How To Give The Moment That Can Change A Life
Jan 16, 2012 Kristen Strong
I read her post, the one where she says writing cards changes lives. Is that dramatic, I wonder? To think a card could really do that?
I recall an earlier time, a time when my thought life sped downhill like a runaway train. I looked at friends who seemingly handled everything infinitely better and wondered why I couldn't measure up as daughter, wife, mama. When the time came for a few of these friends and I to take a trip together, I thought about sitting out. Sure, I needed the rest a girlfriend's weekend would provide. But with this cyclone of insecurity spinning fast, I didn't think my confidence could take another hit.
I confessed my fears through tears to Jen, a true blue confidante. I don't remember one thing she said to me on the phone that day, but I know what she wrote me in a card soon after:
"I want to encourage you to read and memorize a powerful life verse: 2 Corinthians 10:5. Then I want you to do it through the power of the Holy Spirit. Our struggles with whispers from the Accuser are very similar, for me they can stretch into every area of my life. If I do not filter my thoughts through God's word and take my thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ, I become quite paralyzed. When I am faithful in this discipline, I see everything much more clearly and I see my value not overly or underly, but reality."
Not only did she encourage through I've-been-there support, but she pointed me to the Void Filler, Cyclone Calmer, and Perspective Giver. With my eyes on Jesus, I see my reality with accuracy. And this message is life changing.
I attended that girlfriend's weekend and had a gloriously good time.
Sure, I can receive and write this kind of encouragement via emails, facebook messages, or blog posts. And those things are beautiful. But I've re-read that taped-up card and other encouraging, special-to-me cards over and over. There's something about holding life giving words in my hands that moves them into my heart. And if God chose the written word as a means for communicating His love to us, there is power in writing words beyond what we even imagine.
A changed life starts with a defining moment. I wonder how God can use me to be that defining moment to a special person in my circle of influence?
So I return the favor and take a moment to give words wings by sending my Jen a moment of real encouragement in a card. I won't stress about making the words deep or profound. It's not how I write, but that I took the time to write in the first place.
It's not dramatic to believe writing cards changes lives. It's cathartic to know God uses us to change lives. He uses us to bring moments to life, to give life through encouragement.
Can you recall a moment when someone sent you life giving words through a card? Do you keep them and re-read them like I do? Did one in particular change your life like Jen's card did for me?
If you have written a blog post about who you sent a card to, why card writing matters, or whatever is on your heart about the topic, please link it below! If you have written a review in part of (in)spired deals, you can also link up your review post here. Also, we will be drawing the names of FIVE winners from the link-ups to receive a card organizer and a card pack of your choice!
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
A Harvest of What is Yet to Come
Jan 16, 2012 Katie Davis
photo by Kim Nunn
At the age of 18, Katie Davis traveled to Uganda for the first time for a three-week short-term mission trip her senior year. She immediately fell in love with the children and people she met. She determined she would do whatever she had to do to get back to the country that had captured her heart.
After graduation, Katie chose to leave her family, friends, boyfriend, college dreams, and the traditional American path, to teach Kindergarten to 138 wide-eyed children who lived in an orphanage. She began chronicling her journey on her blog, Kisses from Katie. In 2008 she became a mother to three orphaned girls. Later that year she established Amazima Ministries, a non-profit organization devoted to caring for orphaned and vulnerable children and the poor through education sponsorship, feeding programs, vocational initiatives, medical care, and spiritual discipleship.
In October 2011, Katie wrote her first book, Kisses from Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption, released by Howard Books, a division of Simon & Schuster. Now a mother of 13 daughters and resident of Uganda, Katie inspires us to put our faith to action every day, saying yes to whatever needs Jesus puts before us.
***
One of my very favorite things about gazing out at my backyard is our sunflowers. Seeds brought from dry Karamoja and planted in the fertile Jinja soil grow at least ten feet tall and radiant, heads lifted to the sun.
Much to my dismay though, the time we get to enjoy the flowers' bloom always seems brief in comparison to the time we have been waiting – days of pulling seeds from the dead heads and drying them in the sun before carefully pushing them back into the soft red dirt of Uganda. Weeks of waiting and finally some tiny green shoots. Then weeks more of watching as the shoots become thick stalks and climb into the sky. Then follows weeks of wonder as small buds open into something glorious and beautiful.
And then so soon, they bend their heads and begin to die. Something in me is so sad as I watch the flowers seemingly loose their splendor. But my 13 daughters are nothing but excited. They rush to the backyard and hack the stalks down, pulling off the flowers that are today bigger than their faces. I cringe. I look at the bare garden and feel loss, but they feel only eager anticipation. Because they remember: next time, there will be more.
Always, the shoots spring up and reach for the sky. Always they bloom beautiful and then always they bow, bending low to the earth and waiting for my children to run wide-eyed in wonder to the harvest. And always, we plant the seeds and next time there is a bigger harvest, more flowers. Many more. My daughters remember beauty from ashes.
I see beauty in the outcome and sadness in the death, but my girls know beauty in the process.
This is what my loving Father taught me every day of the last year, this beauty in the process. That while a healed and whole family is a marvelous thing to behold, the process that got us there is where He was most glorified and where He drew us to Himself. That a wound all healed and covered with smooth new skin is not nearly as wonderful as the relationship that was built while I bandaged that wound everyday for 8 months and cried tears and laughed stories of my Savior. That dreams die and plans change and seasons end, but He is not done yet. He sees the seeds that come with all the endings and He is faithful to turn them into harvest, into beauty.
Sometimes we look out at our lives and it seems the garden is empty – plans dead as withered leaves, dreams laid waste. Could we rejoice in the season of waiting, believing that God who brought Jesus out of the black tomb and brings green shoots out of hard earth will bring new life out of all dark seasons too? Could we know that beauty is in this whole process, the waiting part too, not just the end result?
This year, I have beheld exquisite flowers, glorious outcomes that could have only been designed by God himself. I have watched Him make family out of strangers. I have watched Him sell a book that I never intended to write. I have watched my little girl walk with her foot flat on the ground for the first time in all five years of her life. I have watched alcoholics become moms who work hard to provide for their families. I have watched my 16 year old walk through processing the abuse in her past and learn to jump rope and have her childhood finally restored to her after nearly 4 years of living in a family. I have watched God answer prayers that I hadn't even spoken yet.
As I gaze in wonder, I remember how He brought us out of the dark and the hard.
I remember how He protected us from the pounding rain and the scorching sun, baby green shoots clinging to Him for dear life. I remember that as we reached high to the Son, He came down and pulled us closer. We turn our heads up in awe and we know what is around the corner, but we look expectantly to the bowing and the bending and the death of all we had planned because we know – in Him, there will always be more. Glorious hope.
By Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie
Kisses from Katie is a story of relentless love and redemption by a would-be college student who moved to Uganda instead. Katie is "writing with the hope that as you cry and laugh with my family you will be encouraged that God still uses flawed human beings to change the world."
Learn more about Katie's story. Watch her book trailer below {click here if you can't see it}
To stay in touch with all God is doing in Katie's life, visit: www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com
Is Wisdom On Your Shopping List?
Jan 16, 2012 danisejurado
I love that God uses the simplest areas of my life to teach me some of the most life changing lessons.
Shopping for groceries and household items is just a part of my usual weekly schedule. I normally don't think much of it. I always viewed it as routine, nothing special.
I tend to be an organizer and list maker by nature. Sometimes I make trips to different stores for favorite items or better prices. This of course means that I make separate lists for the variety of stores I go to.
One morning while I was reading the Bible I came across this scripture. It's a verse I've read many times before, but this time a specific word seemed to jump off the page at me. As if God were saying to me, "Pay attention I have something special to show you."
Isaiah 33:6
He will be the sure foundation for your time, a rich STORE
of salvation and wisdom and knowledge,
the fear of the Lord is the key to this treasure.
"STORE" Now, there's a word I'm very familiar with.
I read the verse again... "He will be the sure foundation for your time, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge..."
I pondered that word, a word I have used so many times in such a casual and uneventful manner.
Was God telling me that He had a store?
No sooner did that question cross my mind when I felt I knew the answer. He does... God has a store! He has a wonderful and very rich store filled with beautiful treasures like wisdom and knowledge. He gently encouraged me to take the time and do some daily shopping in His store for my family's needs.
God's store has an unlimited supply of priceless treasures that are only available from Him and they satisfy the needs of my household far beyond the simple items once found on my lists.
Proverbs 24: 3-4 tells us that it's "by wisdom a house is built... and through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures."
Building a home is so much more than cooking, cleaning, decorating and stocking the shelves with various necessities, it's remembering the most important shopping list of all.
It's a list that can only be written from the heart, by faith in a loving Father who desires to fill each room with rare and beautiful treasures.
I am so thankful that God took a routine part of my weekly schedule that I once viewed as unimportant and turned it into an amazing reminder that He wants to add a few items to my shopping list.
I don't think I will ever write another shopping list again without thinking about God's store and all the treasures He has made available to our family through His promises.
Are there a few things God wants to add to your shopping list?
Single In The New Year
Jan 16, 2012 Annie Downs
Historically, I haven't loved blogging about being single. I mean, I will. I'll do it. But only because I love you. And I know you single girls are out there, so it's only fair that you get a few posts for you every now again. And as you'll see deeper into this post, I want to talk about being single more in 2012 than I have ever before.
So as 2012 begins, I start another of my 31 years on this planet out of a relationship. [Is that the opposite of "in" a relationship? Or should I say (in) a relationship? Anyways....]
Hey single ladies, I want our 2012 to be different. Don't you? I mean, I'm NOT saying I want us to compromise and be different in a "give up hope and grab the next fella in your line of vision" kind of way. I'm just saying that I think we, collectively, could do some things differently and make an unique impact in our individual worlds.
Maybe I should just say, "hey y'all. I'm gonna have a different 2012. Wanna join me?" because maybe the other way sounds bossy?
Ok.
Hey y'all. I'm going to make the choice to have a different 2012.
1. I'm going to be grateful.
Every. day. Thanks to our beautiful friend Ann, we have all learned how to hone this skill. So I'm going to find one reason every day that I am grateful for my life place as a single Christian woman [Example: I got to stay up way late watching a movie last night and no one cared!]. I want to remind my soul, much like David does in Psalm 103, to bless the Lord.
2. I'm going to be generous.
With my time- because I have more of it than any wife or mom. With my money- because no one else lives off my dime. With my stories- because there are tons of girls in their 20s who worry about how to swim these waters and its unfair of me to withhold encouragement. Because dear girls in your 20s, you will survive this and if you'll let Him, God can really bless this single season.
3. I'm going to read from a book every night.
I know, some of you think that goal is ridiculously tiny. But with the amount of minutes I spend in front of a computer screen, my book-in-hand reading time has diminished greatly. So while I'm still the only body in my bed, I'm going to use some of those last moments each day to hold a book and read it.
4. I'm going to be brave.
I am not, mind you, going to jump out of a plane. But I will try to learn some new skills and talk to boys I don't already know and tell my pastor that I want to meet a nice guy in our church. I will do those things that scare me a little.
5. I'm going to cook.
It's easy to convince myself that eating out is just easier and that making meals for one is annoying. And it kind of is. But. I love cooking. So I'm going to do it.
In conclusion, here's what I'm going to do this year: ENJOY. As best I can, as much as I can, I'm going to enjoy who I am and where I am.
Wanna join me?
What are your thoughts on being single in 2012? Link up with us or leave a comment and let's hear your plans!
When You Think You Are Not Ready
Jan 17, 2012 Katie Davis
With a passion to follow Jesus, 18-year-old Katie Davis moved to Uganda to serve the poorest of the poor.
She did not know then that 4 years later she would be single mother to 13, Executive Director of Amazima Ministries, adoption advocate, and author of a New York Times Bestseller: Kisses from Katie: A Story of Relentless Love and Redemption.
Her blog, Kisses from Katie, has received over 160,000 page views in the last month, averaging between 4,000-6,000 hits a day. She inspires men and women alike to live out their faith in Jesus with a total surrender, trusting that His plan is better than our own, always.
::
:
Can you imagine the stench?
Joseph has walked and Mary ridden 90 miles in the scorching sun, the wind whipping around their faces and caking them with dust from the dirt road. More sweat pours from Mary's brow as she experiences the pains of labor for the first time. The stable is packed with all the travelers' animals. Flies buzz around them in the heat and the air is heavy with the smells of sickly sweet hay and manure.
And into this, a baby enters.
I have witnessed this kind of birth before. Woman sighs and baby falls right into the dirt and in the dark of a tiny mud hut with the light of just a thin candle our eyes search for something, anything, sharp to cut the cord. Water is a luxury and too far to fetch at this hour so we wrap the baby in whatever filthy rag-scraps we can find without even wiping her off first.
Joseph, still merely a child himself, searches for anything he can find in the dim light to cut the cord and swaddle his child, probably rags carrying the afore mentioned stench and the dirt of the journey. Trembling and exhausted they wrap Him as best they can, and swatting flies away lay him in the same trough out of which these animals have been eating.
Behold, the Savior.
And in this moment God fulfills every promise and every prophecy. This, God's perfect time. God does not wait for the world to get ready, He enters right into the mess.
He makes Himself very least, no more status or opportunity than an easily overlooked infant in the slums where I spend so many hard hours. Very least so that He can commune with the very most desperate – you and me. He doesn't mind that I am not ready yet and He doesn't mind the wretched condition of my heart or the stench of my sin. God's time is now and He enters into the mess, ready or not.
His perfect timing, now. Now is where He has called us. And we are just not ready yet. We need to clean up the house a bit and pray a little more and seek more counsel and we don't know how to do that yet and oh, we have our excuses. And God says, "I'm here now, and I am ok with the mess because I am here for the messy."
God doesn't need us to be ready for Him; He has been ready for us since the beginning of time and the Messiah is here calling us to commune with the Holy One, to eat at His table.
I want the house to be organized and kids to be clean and nicely dressed and I want dinner to come out of the oven on time, but at the end of the day the laundry still piles and there are still crumbs in the corner and can anyone remember if I brushed my teeth today? And it can't be the New Year yet because I am just not ready for it to be a new year yet.
But I remember when I wasn't ready to move to Uganda. I remember when I wasn't ready to kiss the people I loved the most goodbye. I remember when I didn't have enough money to start a ministry, and I remember when I wasn't old enough to be a mother, and I remember when I didn't know how to parent. I remember when I couldn't cook for fifteen people and when I didn't want to share my house and my things and my life with sick people and addicts. I remember when I was afraid of the slum community that now holds hundreds of friends and when I was terrified that my daughter would never walk and when I was scared that we would never heal after tragic loss. And I remember that never, not once, was I really as ready as I wanted to be. And I remember that God kept all His promises, every last one, in His perfect time.
This new season looms and I don't know what is next. But He doesn't need me to be ready for this season because He is ready. He just needs me to be clinging to His feet.
Now, God's perfect time.
::
By Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie
Learn more about Katie's story. Watch her book trailer {click here if you can't see it}
To stay in touch with all God is doing in Katie's life, visit: www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com
:angel:
Praying for Strangers: The Resolution
Jan 18, 2012
River Jordan
A few years ago I had this simple resolution.
The inspiration for the resolution and the conditions it began with can be found at the website, PrayingforStrangers.com and of course in the book. The most important thing was that everyday I would pray for a different stranger. Someone I passed in the grocery aisle, the bank, or post office. The sidewalk or a restaurant or in the park. It didn't matter where but just someone different everyday. Someone who might stand out to me in a simple way.
At first my prayers were meant to be silent. Something I kept completely to myself without ever sharing with the person that I was praying for them. But a few weeks into that resolution in 2009, something moved me to speak to a woman in a bus station, to tell her she was my stranger and that I would be praying for her that night before I went to sleep. Her response changed my life forever. She literally responded that she had just been asking God that morning if there was anyone in the whole world that was praying for her. We were both shocked at that moment. She went on and caught the bus home to Kentucky. I went on to pray for strangers. About three or four times a week I'd tell them. The responses from these people are more surprising than you could imagine. Over and over again I would hear, "Funny you choose me today because . . . " and then the person would continue their story of what was happening on that day or in their lives.
"I am a pastor and I recently read Praying for Strangers. I challenged my church to pray for one stranger a day in 2012. I've been doing it too, of course."
Some of those stories are documented in the book that I never meant to write. After all, I'm a fiction writer. Don't get me wrong, I strive to communicate eternal truths in my novels but they are through metaphor, through allegory, and a wide array of characters and places. So telling the truth exactly as it happened was difficult for me. It was personal and revealing. It wasn't a story I wanted to share. But over and over again I'd come home and ask my husband, "Do you want to hear my stranger story?" And over and over again he would ask me if I was writing these stories down. "No," I'd reply, "I'm working on my new novel," which was true. The year progressed that way with me 'journalling' stories of the people I had met and the encounters we had shared but my 'real' writing time was saved for the novel in progress.
"You have changed my life.. I am doing that too... my stranger for today? the receptionist at my eye MD office that looked like she wasn't having a good day... but when I told her she was my stranger... her faced changed."
Somewhere along the way that changed. I realized what I was dealing with, the journey I was walking out was larger than the plan I had for my life. That there was something phenomenal happening. I discovered that prayers were thirsty for a touch even from someone they didn't know. And that on any given day the people around me were hurting while wearing a mask full of smiles. That on each day people were walking through life pretending that everything was okay because they didn't know what else to do. But when a prayer stepped up to say,
"Today you are my special stranger and tonight I'll be remembering you in my prayers. I'll be praying blessings for your life and those you love" — it shook their world.
Caused them to stop in their tracks and become real. Pretenses fell to the wayside. And so did mine.
I'm an introverted writer. I'm very good at putting my blinders on and walking though my days focused on what I need to do and most of the time – what isn't getting done because I'm always running behind. Don't get me wrong, I've always cared about children, the homeless, the elderly, the lost, the weak and so on. I care. But caring from a distance for a large group of people or a worthy cause is different than reaching out everyday to a single human being and becoming part of their story. It takes more time, it involves a greater risk, and if I dare to say, in so many ways in produces a great compassion.
At the end of my 2009 resolution I felt I had checked that box.
I had prayed for strangers everyday in spite of when I didn't feel like it. On days I didn't leave home I prayed for someone on the news, a story in a magazine, or a voice on the radio. I prayed my way through thick and thin. On days I felt like I needed prayer much more than anyone I might be praying for. And the year became another year as 2010 rolled over. There I was with a decision lying before me as I walked through stores, took in people, really beheld them. I knew I wouldn't be able to stop this thing.
That one year of a resolution had indeed rolled into something larger. I had so many experiences of how speaking to people and telling them they were my special stranger had positively affected people that I couldn't rob them of that now. I also couldn't rob myself of the experience. What I had learned and what is portrayed in Praying for Strangers is how that resolution affected me. How it changed me. Trust me, you can't pray for over 300, 600, 800 strangers and not be changed. If I was a compassionate woman before, I'm so much more so now. If I was judgmental before, now - not so much.
And I've begun to see how we all fit together in this life. How very much we need each other. In the simplest and surprising ways. And how sometimes the mission field we've long to visit or to serve in is the mission field just out our own front doors.
The new year rolled over again with the momentous 2012 dawning. Since the publication of Praying for Strangers others have gone out into their neighborhoods, their stores, their cities and begun to pray for strangers. Entire churches of all denominations have adopted this resolution in cities across the nation.
There has been such an interest in making a difference in this world that people requested additional information of ways that they might begin to step out and take this journey. In response to those requests there are now Twelve Keys in Twelve Weeks to Praying for Strangers posted on the website including journal reflection questions and small group discussion points. The book club readers guide may be found here.
"My stranger today is named Brenda from the store. She has Lupus which was acting up this week. Praying for her today. Praying for relief from pain."
What began as a book that I never wanted to write has become a lifestyle not only for me but now for thousands of others. I've included some of their comments because they surprise me continually. They move me and keep me looking outward instead crumbling inside myself on any given day when the battle before me seems greater than my strength to overcome it. When I am sad, weary, disheartened – for whatever human reason I juggle on any given day – I reach out to a stranger who may only whisper a quick, "Thank you," as I go on and it makes a difference. My burden lifts. My soul shifts. And I don't feel so alone.
"I recently finished your book, "Praying for Strangers" and I have not been the same since. It really confirmed something in my spirit that I've known for a long time. There are no chance meetings, no interaction with another that is too small to make a big difference. God is so good."
Last night my stranger was a little girl that will never know me. She was about seven years old and wearing a frog hat with green sneakers. I think she must like frogs. I said a very silent but heartfelt prayer for that little girl's destiny. For her protection and joy, for her whole long life ahead of her. Today I still smile when I think of her. And the most bizarre thing to me is that I will never forget her. These strangers take up special residence in my life, they now have their own place. On any given day I remember any one of them and again, pray for goodness in their life. It's only a pause, a passing prayer, a compassionate moment but something in my heart of hearts says it matters. A lot.
As this new year takes shape and form for you, as you step into known routines and unknown days, I would encourage you to consider as so many people have now, embracing this one tiny thing that you can do. To pray for a stranger. It may make more of difference in their life than you will ever know. I have no doubt whatsoever that it will make a difference in yours.
In blessing,
River Jordan
***
About the Author: River Jordan is a critically acclaimed novelist. Praying for Strangers is her first published work of non-fiction. She lives in Nashville with her husband, Owen Hicks, where she produces and hosts the weekly radio program Clearstory. She writes a regular blog for Psychology Today titled, Praying for Strangers. The book was just featured in Guideposts magazine for January 2012 as "A New Way to Pray". Since 2009 she has prayed for a multitude of strangers and continues on that journey.
:angel:
My School of Fish
Jan 18, 2012 Lindsay
Recently, my family took a trip to the Audubon Aquarium of the Americas in New Orleans. As we passed one of the tanks, I noticed a large school of fish swimming together and had a flashback to elementary science class where I learned fish form these groups for protection. God brought to my mind the concept of the"school of fish" He has placed in all of our lives.
This "School of Fish" is exemplified in Acts 2 where the believers "devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer." Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread together in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people" (Acts 2:42-47).
The members of the early church surrounded themselves with others who were of the same mind and were committed to growing in the Lord. This was a time for them to be encouraged, to learn, and to get recharged to share the gospel. Verse 47 continues to say "the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." They were not isolating themselves in a Christian bubble but were still meeting others and sharing the good news message of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
My "school of fish" is a mix of different people from diverse backgrounds. Some of them I have known all of my life, and others God has brought along in the last year. They are men and women who encourage me to stand firm in my faith, teach me who God is, exhibit the love of Christ, and seek to protect me from sin that can overtake and destroy.
My Husband & Family: Seven years ago, God brought my husband into my life. He is a man whose faith and unwavering resolve to trust God's goodness constantly amaze me as we face various challenges and situations in our life. I also have a family whose heritage is to love the Lord.
My Friends: Long ago I asked the Lord to bring godly friends into my life. I can't even tell you how the Lord has answered that request beyond what I could imagine. These women have held me accountable, cried with me, laughed with me, and shared in my pain and joy!
My Mentors: The Titus 2 command has been lived out in my life. There are older women who have poured their lives into me, teaching me how to be a wife, pray, care for my home, study the Bible, and so much more.
I am not sure who you can count in your "school of fish." You may come from a broken home or an unbelieving family, or perhaps you are married to an unbeliever. Whatever your situation is, you can be like the early believers whose goals were to be with fellow believers and to commit to growing in the Lord
If you are blessed to have a large group of fish surrounding you, protecting you, and encouraging you, take the time to thank God for it! Ask God to make you a fish in someone else's life. Continue meeting together, encouraging one another, and praising God together!
:angel:
Joy Takes More Than One Coat Of Paint
Jan 19, 2012 Bonnie Gray
Sometimes we approach joy as if we were taking a pop quiz. The art of joy requires more than one coat of paint.
When my son turned three, TJ graduated from the crib to an actual bed.
Solid wood beds cost a big chunk of money. Add in a super-hero boy, arms loaded with hotwheels and tinkertoy spears — and you've got a stressed out mom in the making.
So we settled on a lower cost, saner approach. We hauled a bed made out of "natural wood" upstairs and I was commissioned to hit Home Depot to pick out the perfect shade of honey.
In short order, I piled cans of wood stains into my cart, each promising tints in thumbnail images that looked menacingly alike. I was stuck on aisle 2 with a string of cans under my arms and in both hands, torn between too many colors.
My left brain would've probably self-imploded had it not been for the guy in a canvas store vest.
I walked out of the store semi-traumatized but got educated on the basics of wood staining:
Buy some samples and experiment with colors on the back of the bed.
Apply a layer at a time and allow time in between to dry.
The stain turns deeper with each application.
One detail: Paint looks different wet than when it's dry.
Last but not least: Have fun! ( I definitely threw him a blank look at this point. )
There's quite a lot of new changes I'd like to make in the new year.
I've taken a faith dare: to see myself as God's delight.
Expressing Joy — in bold and care-free quantities – is a big part of taking on this identity.
Joy is a journey I began last year and now, it's become my soul resolution.
A Soul Resolution
I don't make new year resolutions. They're great for setting goals at work or getting things done. But at the end of the year, my life isn't about what I've done, but who I've become.
I've developed a yearly habit way that goes back to my college days, that's continued into my adulthood — from student to working woman, singlen to married — to life now as a mother and a writer.
I take time out to reflect on my spiritual journey. I look back on the past year to see where I've been. Then I pray and read Scripture to ask God where he's pointing me in the coming year.
Soul resolutions are not about what I'm doing, but who I'm becoming in Christ.
I call it my New Year's "Soul Resolution", because it's more about living it out in my heart, rather than striving to accomplish a goal.
This year, my one word for the new year is "delight", taken from Isaiah 62:4 –
"It will no longer be said to you, "Forsaken," nor to your land will it any longer be said, "Desolate"; But you will be called, "My delight is in her,"... For the Lord delights in you."
Five Principles of Joy Staining
As I try on different ways to experience "delight", I see the same principles of wood staining apply to joy.
We even have someone more knowledgeable than the store reps. We get to practice these Five Principles of Joy Staining with our Beloved Carpenter, Jesus Himself.
"These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full." John 15:11
The Five Principles of Joy Staining
1. Give joy a sampling. Try different things — or doing things differently — to see what joy looks like for you. Experiment in small doses.
2. Give your joy ideas time to dry. Once you try something for the first time, avoid judging yourself or criticizing the experience harshly right away. Give yourself (and others, if they're involved) some space to be imperfect.
3. Joy takes more than one coat of paint. You might not even feel joyful at first. You will find that joy gets a little deeper as you feel the freedom to trust and just try. (I found that by just trying, even as I'm nervous, I feel a tinge of joy!)
4. Joy looks different wet than dry. You're on a journey, not taking a "Joy Test". There is no pass or fail. Joy comes from the heart and the heart is very resistant to demands or "Thou Shalt".
5. Joy is fun! Yes, there is a shade of peaceful, quiet joy that comes through suffering. Don't forget that the kind of joy that is sunny, exuberant and just plain fun is equally as godly too!
Heard of Naaman?
I gathered up these five shots of faith, after being inspired by Naaman, the "valiant warrior" from Aram who was also a leper. He wanted to be healed of his disease. But when the prophet Elisha told him to travel to Israel and dip into the river Jordan seven times, he got angry and discouraged.
After some encouragement from his friends, he decided to do it anyways. On the seventh dip, the Bible says his skin became as soft as a newborn baby!
As you step out new this year — on your faith journey — you may be tempted like I've been thinking, "Who am I kidding?"
Before you throw in the towel —
~ Remember who inspires your new beginning — God.
~ Keep dipping!
On the nth dip — God knows when that is — we will see joy deeper and truer in our everyday experience.
Let's keep encouraging each other. Let's keep painting the world with faith in what God's doing.
I'm not even talking about the "big" things.
In the everyday things that no ones sees, that is where God faithfully meets us — because He sees.
~~~~~
What keeps you encouraged to step out in joy?
Do you have a soul resolution? How is God calling you to become new this year?
Pull up a chair. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Share a comment .
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie and the community at Faith Barista as they swap soul resolutions in January's One Word Faith Dare Series on Faith Barista.
:angel:
An Ordinary Girl
Jan 21, 2012 River Jordan
This past Wednesday, I had the privilege of being a guest blogger here on the Bloom (in)courage Book Club featuring my recent book, Praying for Strangers: An Adventure of the Human Spirit. Many of the follow-up comments reminded me of words that had been whispered to me on book tour. From my very first bookstore visit at Bookman/Bookwomant to kick off the book, Memphis, Dallas, Seattle and up the East Coast one thing became clear to me – I am not the only one praying for strangers.
At my very first event in Nashville a woman approached me tentatively after my talk and whispered, "I just had to come see you after I saw the title for your book. I've been doing this too. I just never tell anyone." In Memphis is was the first woman who had arrived at the reading. She took the opportunity to say, "Me too. I do this. I've done it for years."
In Tupelo, Mississippi at Reeds Gumtree Books is was a different story. A woman approached me to share that she had been on the opposite side of the coin. During a recent flight and a stopover in Atlanta she had been trying to calm herself for her connection as she wasn't an easy flier when a woman approached and said, "I just have to tell you – I pray for a stranger everyday and today it's you. I'll be praying for you." She laughed remembering the moment and telling me how odd she thought it was. And how wonderful. The rest of her journey was so much easier for her as she thought about that woman and the fact that someone she didn't even know was praying for her peace and safety.
The stories continued in every city and being able to visit here has renewed those memories. So many of the comments on Wednesday's post were from other people who had indeed already been praying for stranger. The letters, emails, and comments that began to pour in after the books publication confirmed this as well. People have been praying for people for many, many years. I happened to be the girl who had the resolution who happened to be a writer, who happened to capture those stories and write the book. With all that being said, I'm just an ordinary girl. No different than anyone. Still trying to deal with my own fears and messy struggles in life whether they be financial, emotional, physical, or that mental pressure of a thousand deadlines and not enough time. But like me, so many people have been walking out their days including a small prayer for a stranger they see, pass on the streets, or in an airport.
Others have written to say, "I plan on doing this now. I'm adopting this resolution." Some people plan to embrace this practice daily, others on occasion as the spirit moves them. Some people as well as entire churches have decided to embrace praying for a stranger for Lent this year. The fact is, there is no perfect way to pray for a stranger and maybe no perfect time. We are all just everyday people doing the very best we can to move forward with joy and thanksgiving for our blessings in this life.
The power of prayer is something that was never handed down from the Creator to just a chosen few people. It's accessible to all for all. And the tiniest prayer from the tiniest person may be the very thing that shifts someones world into a better place. By tiny I mean people who perceive themselves that way. One of the most wonderful readers that I've met, this adorable, beautiful woman was absolutely amazed that she could do this. That she had something to offer the world and felt it was the first time in her life that she could do something of importance. As sorry as I am that she ever viewed herself as insignificant, I am delighted that she grasped the fact that her prayers meant as much as mine did. As much as anyone's.
What I discovered in my experience of walking out this prayer journey for three years so far and continuing to do so, is that the world is thirsty for prayer. For kindness. For compassion. For a strangers touch and a listening ear. On so many days of my life it would have meant everything to me to have someone step up in times of trouble and whisper, "today you stood out to me as someone special and tonight I'll be saying a prayer for blessings in your life." Many of those days I might have fallen into their arms sobbing my story. Whatever the story was on that particular day, because although seasons change and our troubled times come and go, life is bittersweet and remains for most of us a challenge in some ways. And we can feel guilty for that because we know there are people not as well off as we are, as free, as safe, or as warm – or we can accept the fact that being human means exactly that.
Some of the greatest moments in my life have been divine encounters with strangers. In some of those moments they were ministering to me. Hopefully, in others it was the other way around. Always, we were a blessing to each other. Being real in the moment. Giving and receiving.
I am so very thankful for those strangers of my past, and for the ones before me. To all those people who have whispered to me, "I've been doing this forever," or "I plan to do this now." - carry on with a great knowledge that your heartfelt prayers hold power. That you releasing that power into someone's life is a brush with the Divine– whether they ever know your name or not. Never underestimate who you are in this world or the good you can do one day, one stranger at a time.
In Peace and Blessing,
River
(If you ever doubt the need for prayer, the desire for prayer, cast about on the internet for the many prayer sites where people post their prayer requests. The needs are many – but we are many.)
***
About the Author: River Jordan is a critically acclaimed novelist. Praying for Strangers is her first published work of non-fiction. She lives in Nashville with her husband, Owen Hicks, where she produces and hosts the weekly radio program Clearstory. She writes a regular blog for Psychology Today titled, Praying for Strangers. The book was just featured in Guideposts magazine for January 2012 as "A New Way to Pray".
:angel:
Step by Step
Jan 20, 2012
Heather Gemmen Wilson
As I write this blog post, I'm in my classroom at Anderson University watching my freshman students make revisions to their essays. It's tedious work, so I give them specific things to look for:
in this reading look for passive verbs and rewrite the sentence to make it active;
now give things and people names (i.e., instead of saying she put the items on the conveyor belt, show me the bran cereal and the ruby red grapefruit);
this time cut repetitive material,
and so on.
Making improvements in my spiritual life is also tedious work, and it's hard for me to see clearly what changes I need to make. Just as my students may look at a paragraph and be overwhelmed when I tell them to revise it, so I feel when I try to determine whether I'm spiritually healthy. Like my students, I may be tempted to throw up my hands and say it's good enough.
Except that I don't want to be good enough; I want to be a beautiful and shining servant of God.
What I need is a step-by-step process for evaluating myself. "First look at this, now this, this time consider X..." So I've created a list, and I thought you might be able to use it too.
look for complaints and rewrite them as words of appreciation
turn my unkind statements about others into words of praise
replace my laziness with productivity
instead of worrying, pray
identify my temptations and remove them (or tame them)
do what I said I would do
don't do what I said I wouldn't do
replace an old habit with a new experience
turn bitterness into forgiveness
How about you? Do you have any suggestions for revisions that we can all make to our lives?
by Heather Gemmen Wilson
:angel:
Step Right Up And See: Our Less-Than-Best
Laura
My right foot has an irksome habit of falling asleep. It goes completely numb at the most unfortunate moments—always without me realizing it. In trying to slip out of Sunday school class early, I wound up stumbling across the room, grabbing furniture all the way to make it to the door. Every man in the room stood up to see if I was okay. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to expunge the scene from memory.
An episode like this doesn't just hurt my pride, it offends my (admittedly overdeveloped) sensibility for what's pretty, elegant, graceful.
I couldn't resist a recent flea market find, a weathered old book titled Charm by Margery Wilson. I'm fascinated by passages like, "To walk well there is only one general rule applicable to everybody and that is this—walk on one line. Don't run on two tracks like a street-car... By walking on one line a woman will appear more graceful, and if there is any soft drapery about her costume she will seem almost to float into a room." What silly, antiquated and good advice, I think, and spend the next ten minutes practicing my walk.
Waddling is not graceful; nor is falling for no apparent reason in public. What does it look like when believers fall down flat in sin or under the weight of sadness?
Sometimes Christians are accused of being too sure, self-righteous, smug. Sometimes we are. Are we watching our backs, suspecting folks are just waiting for us to fall? Are they?
So when we fall, and fall we must, do we make sure no one sees? Can we stand the thought of being caught in our less than grace-full moments?
I don't make small talk about how I snapped at a slow-moving daughter to hurry or lost my patience—again. The icy stares we've given, the cold shoulders, the clumsy words—these aren't what we lead with. And we don't parade around our hardships and hurts, things we worry might make us less.
I'm not an advocate for returning a casual, courteous "how are you?" with a confession or a long sob story. But what about the occasional eye-to-eye "how are you?" that makes us wince if we're in hiding?
No matter how we try to walk head-up (in a line!), gravity and the flesh and a world fallen are laws of this sometimes ugly life. Hitting the floor is no fun.
Now consider the beautiful picture we reveal when we get back up. And what does it show others when we do it not by our bootstraps, but by the loving hand of our Father? I'd argue it's a sight as glorious as a newly born foal struggling to his feet for the first time.
But no one can see if we are strictly undercover sinners and sufferers.
So while I'd rather lose all sensation in my foot only in the privacy of my den, I'd like to have the grace for gratitude that the Maker of my foot doesn't always let me fall down—and get back up— in secret.
:angel:
Seeking Solitude
Jan 21, 2012 12:10 am | Melissa Michaels
There are days I find myself hiding in the shower, hot water beating down my neck, searching for the elusive moments of quiet I desperately need. Whether it is the noise from a family, a growing online business, our young church or our latest endeavor starting a new local concert house, I find myself craving an escape from the constant chatter of computers, smart phones, voices, music and the never ceasing tug of war on my attention.
Every new thing, every new gadget I need to keep track of my life, every new responsibility God entrusts to me adds more noise. Yet, I could argue that a full life of serving God in community with others and providing for our family is good noise, right?
Yet, there are times when I sense the noise in my life is not so good. Such as when I have moments to myself where I could sit in silence and just spend time in the presence of God, yet by habit and nervous energy I reach for more unnecessary communication instead.
I was fascinated by the insights in the book Celebration of Discipline, by Richard Foster:
...a day filled with noise and voices can be a day of silence. If the noises become for us the echo of the presence of God, if the voices are for us, messages and solicitations of God. When we speak of ourselves and are filled with ourselves, we leave silence behind. When we repeat the intimate words of God that he has left within us, our silence remains intact.
Foster quotes Dietrich Bonhoeffer from his book Life Together:
Let him who cannot be alone beware of community...Let him who is not in community beware of being alone... Each by itself has profound pitfalls and perils. One who wants fellowship without solitude plunges into the void of words and feelings, and one who seeks solitude without fellowship perishes in the abyss of vanity, self-infatuation, and despair.
Lately I've been trying to discern the good noise and the not-so-good noise, and the balance between community and alone time in my life. I'm trying to find ways to practice the discipline of solitude in a life that often feels anything but quiet.
Foster recommends several ideas for practicing solitude that I'm trying to implement myself. Perhaps you'd find them helpful as well?
1. Take advantage of "little solitudes" that fill our day:
Early moments in bed before the family awakens.
A morning cup of coffee before the day begins.
The solitude of time in the car by myself.
Embracing the quiet short walk to the mailbox.
We may not have the opportunity for longer periods of solitude, but we can capture little moments as we go about our day. By really embracing those moments we do have for inner quiet, we can be fully present where we are. We can use those moments to reorient our lives like a compass.
2. Find a quiet place.
We have a family room designed as a place to spend time together, but do we have a quiet room to be alone? My quiet room used to be our bedroom. But somehow lately it has become a new hub of activity with dogs, laundry and people! So while I could try to reclaim the peace there (and would if there were no other option!), I'm working on redesigning my home office to give myself a serene place that is off limits to dogs, laundry and noise. It is essential to my sense of health and spiritual balance in life to find that space I can retreat from the world.
3. Use words that are few and full.
Clearly these days we have an abundance of ways to communicate. We can run to the computer or our phones to share words and pictures in dozens of different ways all day long. But what exactly are we sharing and receiving every time we log on? Even though the Celebration of Discipline predates the internet, Foster's words are surprisingly even more true today:
A frantic stream of words flows from us because we are in a constant process of adjusting our public image. We fear so deeply what we think others see in us that we talk in order to straighten out their understanding.
Wow. No wonder being online often leaves me weary and longing for silence! That frantic stream of words and pictures is often noise, distracting me from the presence of God.
I want to strive for more silence by being more selective in words I read, write and speak both at home and online.
4. Withdraw for three or four hours four times a year to reorient life goals.
Longer times of solitude can be so valuable in our quest to seek direction and focus in life. Foster says "our tendency is to over estimate what we can accomplish in one year and underestimate what we can accomplish in ten years." By rushing to set too lofty of goals for too short of a time frame, I might feel compelled to get wrapped up in my own agendas and successes, rather than allowing the will of God to be discovered, revealed and practiced in my life. The frantic rush to succeed fills life with an abundance of noise and chaos, rather than trusting in an all powerful God to supply our every need.
In order to set a healthy rhythm and pace for my life, I need to build in time for silence and reflection as well as time for action and accomplishment. By setting aside that time for reorienting goals several times a year, I'm reminded of my need for the space and time to hear more from God.
Do you wrestle with finding solitude in life filled with noise?
What are some ways you are seeking more quiet this year?
Melissa @ The Inspired Room
:angel:
Sunday Scripture
Jan 22, 2012 incourage
"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion?
Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest.
Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it.
Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.
Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." ~Jesus.
:angel:
Because I'm feeling a little weak today
Jan 23, 2012 Lysa
We all have them. Weak places. Places inside us that make us wonder if we'll ever get it together like the together people. Places that make us feel less than. Less than victorious. Less than a conqueror. Less than strong.
Weak places can sometimes trip us up in life. Weak places can so easily consume us, label us, and knock the life right out of us.
My weak places frustrate me- especially this time of the year. I just resolved to do better three weeks ago at the new year and already I'm slipping in a couple of places. And yet I refuse to resign that I can't ever change.
With the power of Christ all things can be made new. All broken things are subject to restoration. But sometimes I get so tired of trying and I just feel weak. Can you relate?
What is your weak place? A money situation that seems impossible? A temper that flares? An insecurity that stings? A family dysfunction that is always brewing? A food issue that rages even though you just signed up for that new diet program?
One of my most raw weak places for years, was my inability to find peace with my eating struggles. I hated that this had to be my issue. I hated that I didn't seem to have the self-control other women so effortlessly exhibited. I hated that I constantly bounced from feeling deprived to feeling guilty with my food choices.
And I don't flippantly use the word hate.
It's reserved for the most brutal of struggles – which this most certainly was.
I want to share the three best things you can remember if your weak place is a food struggle.
1. The scale can measure your physical weight but never your worth as a woman. Do you know that? I mean do you know it the second you step on that scale and start calling yourself names you'd never let other people call you?
Here's a little activity I want you to do this week. Go get some sticky notes. Write these words on them: beautiful, courageous, able, called, victorious.
Now, put these notes over the numbers on your scale and for the next five days, receive only the truth when you step on that scale.
2. You are more than a sum total of your tastebuds. Remind yourself when you think you want that unhealthy food option that only your tastebuds want that... your heart doesn't want that candy bar. Your arms don't want those french fries. Your brain doesn't want those chips. Your hiney doesn't want that cheesecake.
Only your tastebuds want that... so let your arms, brain, heart and hiney boss your tastebuds around. Let majority rule!
3. Nothing tastes as good as peace feels. Sweet sister, God made you to walk in His peace. You were made to consume food but food was never supposed to consume you. Of all the things Jesus has asked the Holy Spirit to remind us, peace was first on His list!
"But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid," (John 14: 26-27).
Ask yourself, "Is this food option going to add to my peace or take away from it? Because by golly, nothing tastes as good as peace feels!"
I pray these three things breathe strength into a very raw, hard, and sometimes seemingly impossible struggle. Trust me sister, victory is possible.
Even the smallest drop of God's strength is more than enough to cover our frailties, our shortcomings, the places where we deem ourselves weak.
So instead of wallowing in my weak place, I will let the Spirit reveal the one positive step I can take today. I will wash away the condemnation with the warmth of His grace. I will receive His power. For when I walk in His power, I can rename my weakness, my strong place.
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:
The Happiest Way to Spend a Day
Jan 23, 2012 Shaya Kyle
I kept putting one foot in front of the other, but my thoughts? His words had stopped them in their tracks.
Just moments before, I had rushed out the door, this package all wrapped up and in my arms. It was a Bible. And this, a walk from my door to the Post Office, was the first leg of its journey around the world to the Philippines. This Bible will be my little friend Zenia's first, and she is very excited. I walk along, hoping, praying, that she will always love to read about Jesus. I smile at the thought of my friends, these people a whole world away yet so close to my heart.
I'd have to hurry on my mission, since it was nearly time to do something to turn food into lunch. Crossing the block early, I noticed a man in his front yard doing something with a shovel and a wheelbarrow. I didn't know him. I started to call out a greeting. His stopped me, spun me.
"Hi Neighbor! Are ya liven' that dream today?"
There I was, in the middle of a day that seemed so... ordinary. Wonderful, yes, but what did making pizza and paying payroll taxes and walking to the Post Office have to do with living a dream?
And I knew it then, all over again: There's no such thing as an ordinary day. No, not when Extraordinary God has life-dreams for me.
Dare I say it? Dare I answer him with, "Yes!"? My thoughts chased each other. What is God's dream for me, anyway? Am I really doing anything to reach it? Today? How am I spending this piece of forever?
And then He reminded me, "Just because My plans for you are to give you hope and a future (Jer. 29:11) doesn't mean that all those plans are far off in the future. I have a design for your every day. Walk with Me today, and you won't want to leave Me tomorrow. Let Me fill your days, and you'll naturally fulfill My dreams."
Yes. My answer is "Yes!" I called it out to both of them, the stranger and the Lord.
Yes, because today I can serve up the Word, send a smile through the phone line, squeeze a shoulder, say a prayer. The wonder! I can take steps that leave tracks on the other side of the planet. Yes, the miracle of Grace, how He moves in us to accomplish His own plans, how He dreams big dreams for each of us, how He fills our days, our hearts, with Himself.
If Christ is my core, every chore is a glorious project. If He is making my plans, seemingly mundane things can leave eternal marks. I can live His dream today by letting Him live His life in me.
Yes. It's the happiest way to spend a day—swapping dreams and living His together.
By Shaya Kyle, www.thekylefamily.com
:angel:
Our Holes Breathe Hope
Jan 23, 2012 12:00 am | Lisa Whittle
A self-described grappler, struggler and questioner, Lisa Whittle never intended to live a life of public ministry. As the daughter of a pastor, Lisa dreamed of a journey less hard on the heart, lived outside a glass house. But God had other things in mind. After her husband lost his job and as 3 small children circled her feet, she found herself in desperate need of an outlet. It was then she began writing.
Lisa has gone on to author 3 books and contribute to publications such as Catalyst, Michael Hyatt, Relevant, The Deeper Story, Church Leaders, and (in)courage. She is a speaker and an advocate for Compassion International, and as the first female originally-launched Barnabooks author, Lisa is a starter of important conversations in the church. Many of those conversations start on her blog at LisaWhittle.com.
Lisa's newly released book, {w}hole, shares her story and that of many others: holes to wholeness by the power of a gracious God. Lisa says, "{w}hole may be the most honest thing I've ever written. I don't hold back...about anything." It is available, now, wherever books are sold.
***********
I have spent much of my life running away from things that were hard.
I lived to keep busy — writing appointments on my calendar, barely scheduling time to breathe.
I shopped...for clothes that would dress my bones pretty, so I would feel better.
Sometimes I ate, and the food made me happy. The raucous party in my mouth was loud enough to temporarily muffle the growling of my empty soul.
It is the deep down truth I share with others: we all have holes. It is also our truth...that we try different ways to fill them.
But they exist. And in the most inconvenient times, in the most inconvenient places, they rise up...in our relationships, our fears, our doubts, our insecurities and even in our greatest moments of success that lead us to stumble over our own egos.
It is why we need God. It is how we journey, together.
"No matter how different our circumstances may be, we each live and lose and love and cry and work and let go and endure and break down and get back up. It is the universal tie that binds all of us together, and it matters deeply. I know that the fullness of how we love each other as human beings is in our understanding of how similar we really are, and how much we need each other to care. We truly were not meant to take this journey alone." ~{w}hole
But even in our voids, we find great hope. Because holes are the very place that we can most find God.
Where our religion has let us down, our roles have not proven faithful, and our experiences have threatened to be our life definition, wellness can be breathed into the empty spaces of our life – a rich, full life that is not about what we do or what we have been taught or even lived through, but about what has happened between Jesus and us on the pages of our journey.
Where we have lacked and He has been enough. Where we have fallen and He has not faltered. Where we have holes and He has filled them.
Our story doesn't not end with our holes. With Jesus, it is only our beginning.
Because when we are willing to look at those deep down places we discover truth. We feel community. We become brave. We find healing.
As the Jesus, who fills our soul with Himself...makes all things well.
To download a FREE chapter one of {w}hole, as well as a FREE downloadable guide about sharing your own story, visit the book site HERE. Watch the book trailer, read endorsements from Ann Voskamp and George Barna, and find out more about the book and where to get it.
:angel:
What a Parent Wants to Say Before a Child Leaves
Jan 26, 2012 Ann Voskamp
Dear Son who is called to climb a thousand walls,
You have to know how your unfolding from me was a miracle.
That's the miraculous thing about miracles – they really do happen.
How is it in this crazy, holy world does a girl-woman bear a boy-child?
How does she raise a squalling boy-child into a man? I've never been one of those.
And this the thing: there's only so much time to go from point A to point B.
How did I waste so many days? How do I make you know everything you need to know before you go?
How to love a woman and when to say yes and when to wear black socks instead of white and when to ask for directions and when to say no.
That you'll be radical about grace and relentless about truth and resolute about holiness and vows and the real hills worth dying on. That you know how to make a bed and how to make a child laugh and how to write a letter home.
Did you know, right when they laid you wrinkled in my arms, you had this curl of hair, this swirl of hair on your forehead? You got it from me. That turning, swirling cowlick that I got it from my Dad. Who got it from his mother. This is how these things go, this turning around and passing torches on.
I turn around and you're 16.
And you're leaving on a jet plane at 3:30 am.
When the first time you ever get on a plane, you fly for the jungles of Indonesia, the farthest away from us on this spinning blue marble, your father says this farm won't be big enough to keep you anymore. When he says it, he says it a bit like something hurts inside.
He's made his life about showing you what real leadership is: not climbing higher towards power and status, but bending down in prayer and service. He's been dead to all ladders and that's what made him so alive — reaching down, to the lonely, the lost, and the least.
I roll all your shirts and stack them, one upon the other, like all the years, and know that this is just the beginning of the leavings. I bite my lip hard and try to be brave, like the day you were born. How could my mothering take so many u-turns and still get here so fast?
I remember when you were small enough to hold in my arms, warm against me, this sun bathed stone, us engraved into rock here. I hadn't known how fast the wings would come and that you would fly into the dark, into the sun, and so soon. That when you became a man, I'd feel so empty – and so very fulfilled. I wish we had read even more books. And I had said yes to every game of Scrabble.
The Bible's true, son. Every infallible, sword-sharp, breathing word of it. Don't let anyone ever rationalize one beautiful iota of it away. Love it because it's your Life.
And the only life worth living is the scandalous one: scandalous love, offensive mercy, foolish faith. Kiss babies. Always have one friend that feels on the fringe, that you have to pray to love, that makes the neighbors scratch their heads. Stubbornly pray for your enemies till you see enemies are illusions and everyone is a friend and somehow grace. Believe in every woman's God-sized dreams. And rub her feet at the end of the day.
Be the kind of person who says sorry first because that's the only way happiness can last.
And never forget that happiness is when His Word and your walk are in harmony. Never stop keeping company with Christ– and all the sinners, tax-collectors and cast-offs. Be an evangelist and use your words with your hands because you're part of a Body and never stop loving God with all your heart, mind and soul, and loving others as yourself. Make that your creed.
It's true, son: Be different and know everything you do matters. It's what the Christ followers know: One man with God can change a culture. People in your path aren't for you convenience; you're there for theirs. Loving the poor will make you rich, I promise.
Only when you offer yourself as bread, broken and given, to a hungry world, will you ever be satisfied.
The only life worth living is the one lost.
And no matter how loud and crazy and broken the world is, child? Let joy live loud in your soul.
And believe that you are His beloved – it's only when you trust He loves you that you really begin to live. Really, count a thousand blessings more, never stop. Why wouldn't you want joy? Sing to no one and everyone on the front porch in the rain and laugh so much they question your sanity. Pet the dog long.
Because really, none of us knows how long we have. Remember that a pail with a pinhole loses as much as the pail pushed right over. A whole life can be lost in minutes wasted... in the small moments missed. None of this is forever grace. That's why it's amazing grace.
Do it often: grab a lifeline by stepping offline. You'll see your true self when you look for your reflection in the eyes of souls not the glare of screens.
This is what you always need to know: You have nothing to prove to anyone – if you're in Him, you are already approved.
Be okay with not being liked: life's about altars not applause. And be okay with not being seen or heard. It'll let you hear and see better.
It's late when you lay your Bible on the last of the packed clothes and check off the last thing, thinking you've remembered everything.
I know I've forgotten something – many things.
This parenting gig's an experiment in radical grace and the work of every parent is to fully give to the child. And it's the work of every child to fully forgive the parents. This is how it turns, the torch passing from one to the next.
Remember that we made meals and beds and mistakes and memories – and look hard for the good ones.
You zip up the suitcase. I try to keep it in, what's blurring and spilling. And I rummage about in the closet for
that necklace I've been saving for someday and I think today's the day. That necklace one that maybe can call you to what your mother's been stammering at.
And I go to hand it to you. No – put it around your neck.
Like a benediction.
A mantle.
That no matter the road or what paths you cross: Wear the call to His sacrificial, radical way.
You finger the steel in your hands.
You've taken hold and I'm letting go.
Maybe that's what I am trying to say? I will never stop loving and letting you go. A mother and child live the first great love story and there is no love story without loss, and this is always gain.
Remember this no matter where you fly?
Love your mama...
who believes in the thousand-fold miracle that all's grace.
::
:::
:
::
~ Ann Voskamp.... fledgling mama to six kids who are teaching her what it means to fly
Resources :Radical necklace
Q4U: What are your concerns for your kids as they embark in the world? Your prayers?
What's one thing you regret as a parent?
One thing you want your kids to really know?
How can we pray for you today as you parent?
Email readers and RSS readers — Come join the conversation by clicking here?
:angel:
Discovering The Holes That Hold Us Back {and a giveaway}
Jan 25, 2012 Lisa Whittle
Back in the days of 70's stained glass and orange padded pews, I was a happy little girl twirling around in the foyer of my daddy's big church.
The world felt safe. Church people felt good. Jesus existed, to give me sweet things.
But one day, things were different. My father stood in the pulpit and said goodbye to his big church. Lots of people were sad. Lots of people, including me.
My perfect world changed. I was a pastor's daughter, and then I wasn't. My role went away, and I was left with a hole in my heart, the size of Texas.
It is how I journeyed, for years. It is how many of us journey – as victim to our voids, self-inflicted or chosen for us.
So we eat. We shop. We become addicted to things like success, beauty, religion, alcohol, tv, and sometimes even, our friends.
And then...we fear. We doubt. We get prideful, or we get angry. We live, swimming around inside a bucket of shame.
But what happens next is up to us. Because choosing the thing that will make our soul well is a now decision.
Despite the past or what has been chosen for us.
Despite the disappointments, successes, or moments in between.
In the discovery of our voids, our life can begin to change. Oftentimes, it begins with our own soul-searching, in questions like these:
When did my life take a turn?
Is that "hinge moment" (or anything else) a definition or limitation...in the way I view of God, myself, or others?
Do I have the peace, joy, passion for the Gospel, and lasting fulfillment that are symptoms of a whole life?
Am I willing to move past what limits me, even if it means I have to face some hard truth in the process?
When we can see our voids for what they are, we can travel down the path to move past them.
It is the path to the whole, full life...and it is ours, to choose.
**For help in identifying the holes in your life, order your copy of {w}hole, available HERE or wherever books are sold.
{Over 70 million people say that something in their past is holding them back in their life. ~Omnipoll research, {w}hole}
:angel:
Not Perfect, But Well
Jan 27, 2012 Lisa Whittle
"What is it that keeps us from starting down the road to wholeness? It is not that God turns our contrite hearts away. It's just that we do not always allow ourselves to go to such depth and vulnerability. Instead, we claw and grasp and reach and strain to stay afloat by our own efforts. All the while Jesus wants us to face the end of ourselves so He can fully begin." ~{w}hole
{wholeness: soul wellness}
There is no perfect life, no perfect marriage, family, or any earthly thing. This, I know.
And yet, there is a place inside of me that still wishes I can be – that today will be the day that every hair falls in place, every flaw melts away, every second is filled with sweetness.
My humanity holds onto the idea that in order to have a full life, it must always go perfectly well. The truth is, it never always will.
I have come to believe that God is gracious to allow us the lesson early, even in the small things that hurt so big – the playground words that have never left us, the way our nose was oversized and other kids noticed...how our parents didn't have much money and how that made us learn about struggle before we really understood it. Because it is in our perception of perfection, oftentimes, that we miss the richness of reality.
Our life won't be perfect.
But it can be well.
A life that is always safe, always predictable, always able to be controlled by our wants and our will speaks to our fleshly desire for perfection.
But a life that knows true and lasting peace, joy, a thriving relationship with Jesus, a passion for the Gospel, and core fulfillment speaks to our soul's need to be whole.
While the world around us may change, soul wellness is about the permanency of God.
Loving the messy church, despite its flaws...remembering that our religion is something different than our God.
Enjoying a deep, thriving relationship with God whereby we feel a palpable sense of His presence on our daily journey.
Caring about people we have never met, simply because the Gospel has infected us and we can't live apart from its Cause.
Having peace — an inexplicably settled spirit and eternal perspective — even when the world does not play nice.
Living with joy that comes from a deep, organic place and lasts longer than brief, happy moments.
Experiencing fulfillment of the lasting kind that helps us live out our passion and purpose.
A perfect life says...I want to impress other people.
A whole life says...I don't need others to say I'm worthy.
A perfect life says...things can't ever go wrong.
A whole life says...when things go wrong, my soul can still be well.
My friends, until the day we finally see Jesus and become whole in the most completed sense...may we come to the end of ourselves so He can fully begin.
***
:angel:
Remembering Whose We Are
Jan 27, 2012 Especially Heather
I have written on this subject so many times, yet I still need to be reminded of it daily. I need to be reminded that God only has my best at heart, even when He seems so far away. I have been rereading a book (Stones of Remembrance) that I bought when I first found out that I had brain cancer. Upon reading the things that I wrote in the margins, I wonder to myself "where did that girl go?"
The girl that had rock solid faith.
The girl that did not doubt, because she relied whole heartily on her Father.
The girl that trusted her God through the worst diagnosis and prognosis imaginable.
As a I continued to read, I came across the words below:
Crossing Over Our Jordan River
We don't know when God will get us over the river. We don't know how God will dry the riverbed and allow us to cross. But we do know, by faith, that he will act on our behalf. And while we wait, we remember.
We remember our Red Seas, the places where God has parted the waters for us, the impossible places where God came through and the Enemy was defeated
We remember who brought us through.
We remember whose we are. We belong to Christ!
We remember that God's delays are not delays of inactivity, but of preparation. He delays, but he does not deny. While we wait He prepares us for His answer according to His perfect, preordained plan.
We remember and link up with like-minded, stronger people who are going in the same direction. We cant afford to attempt the waters of Jordan alone.
We remember to tell our children, and our children's children that they may see the mighty hand of God and take courage for the rivers they will have to cross. They piggyback on our faith when we share the stories of God's mighty acts in our lives.
We remember to offer encouragement for our friends who walk beside us along the way
~Stones of Remembrance.
In the margin next to it I wrote in bold capital letters "Remember these words when you doubt, because you will doubt. Satan will attack your heart and your mind, he is the master of lies and deceit. Guard your heart, because there will come a time when you will not feel this strong."
Those words spoke volumes to my heart right now, especially since tomorrow marks 9 months that we let go of our 9 year old daughter and released her into His hands.
9 months of pain, grief, anger, denial.. 9 months of questions with no answers.
Yet I still have to remind myself that during these past 9 months, He has also brought comfort, healing, rest, and peace.
He is still God. He is still sovereign. Our steps were planned long before there was time. I don't understand His ways, but I trust His ways.
I don't understand His will, but I know that He will not abandon me, even when I run far away from His heart and plans for my life.
"I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home. I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out; plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. ~Jeremiah 29:11″
He still has it all under control....
:angel:
Pain That Scars
Jan 27, 2012 12:00 am | Natasha Metzler
She sat quiet and still with such deep pain etched on her face, it hurt to look at her. She did not say a word but her lack of speech said plenty. It said that she was having a hard time sleeping again. It said that she was feeling alone and sad and angry. It said that she wanted to crawl into a hole and protect herself from everything around her. It said that every breath that tore through her lungs was just a reminder that a tiny infant she carried for eight and a half months...never breathed.
She was bleeding raw with a wound so deep and jagged it will be impossible for it to ever be smooth. The rough and ragged edges will heal slowly with a constant ache. Forever, the person who she is, who she was, will be marked by that pain.
And she's not the only one.
One after another, I hear the wounds and see the scars and feel the sickening drip of bloody pain. It's the story of life on this sinful broken earth and it is horrible and wrenching and angering.
Death. Infertility. Broken trust. Rebellion. Loss. Broken dreams. Lists and lists of bone-deep sorrows.
I wish... no, I long for some way to explain things. Some secret hidden key to unlock the horror of seeping festering wounds.
A Bible verse. A principle of discipleship. Something. Someway to prove that God has a "happy" thing to counter this depth of sadness.
But guess what? There's not.
We don't have a God who says, in the middle of horrible pain, "I did this because..." There is no explanation. It's not because someone was good or bad or deserved it or didn't deserve it.
It simply is.
And there is no "happy" thing to fix it. For nothing can.
Not another child. Not another dream. Nothing actually replaces what is lost.
Everyone else might forget but the scar-bearer always remembers.
Yet, even in the middle of this raw grating pain, we do have a God. And he does speak, although sometimes we miss it. He doesn't offer explanations but something entirely different.
He says, "I know."
I've never had to face the death of a child but I have experienced my own tastes of death. I've looked at the horrible and not known what to do. I've raged and ranted and screamed, asking why or why not, then crumbled into a heap at God's feet begging for explanation... and I've felt His tears and I've heard His voice.
The truth is that the most precious thing in the middle of pain is to hear that God knows. Not just that He knows about a situation but that He knows my pain. And while I may be angry that He didn't protect me or them or whoever... I also have the knowledge that He didn't protect himself either.
My ideal is to be protected from pain and to help protect others from pain. But God cannot be molded into my ideal. He is who he is.
When Moses asked God who to say sent him, God said, "I AM who I AM." (Exodus 3:14, NIV)
He hasn't changed since then.
And for some reason, this God who IS, the one who created us and loves us, is not afraid of pain. He faces it and He lets us face it.
So those moments that should never be... are.
They were for Adam and Eve, for Abraham, for Job, for David, for every generation since and even for God Himself. So, it makes sense that I will face them and my friends will face them.
Still. It hurts.
So we must cling to the truth. The only truth we have. That our God, the one who IS, the one who created us all, who loves us all... knows.
And we can believe, even in the face of life-altering scars that our Scar-Bearer, Jesus himself, will never leave us nor forsake us.
Never.
Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you; But rejoice, inasmuch, as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy. I Peter 4:12-13 (KJV)
By Natasha, To Live For Him
:angel:
For When You Let Others Down
Jan 28, 2012 Kristen Welch
I opened the mail.
In an instant, I was furious.
I've been having some medical tests run lately to try and diagnose the chronic pain in my neck. One of the tests was faulty and had to be repeated. It involved needles and electrical current. And tears. So, when I received an $800 bill from a doctor I'd never seen-the one who read and declared the test faulty, I was mad.
It was an insurance nightmare and on my fourth frustrated phone call, I lost it.
I ranted and complained and whined to the billing lady on the other end.
It was ugly.
I was ugly.
I got off the phone and it took about 7.2 seconds for me to get the feeling. You know the one. Conviction.
Oh, but it gets worse.
I called my hubby and told him all about it. He quietly asked, "What is the doctor's name? And the lady you griped at..her name?"
He didn't say anything for a long time after I read the names off the piece of mail.
"Kristen, I'm a pharmaceutical rep. That's one of my offices."
-And now the kick in the gut-
"The girl you just told off is the same one I've been witnessing to and I've even been telling her all about Mercy House."
She knew my name. She knew his name.
I'm sure I don't even need to tell you how terrible I felt. I apologized to my husband. I hit redial and called the lady in the billing department back. I apologized.
Thankfully, she was gracious.
It took a while longer for me to forgive myself. I know I'm human, but I know my temper won that day and I regretted my behavior.
Life is a lesson, isn't it? And my Father God knows how to correct me.
I learned a lot that day: When you disappoint (and you will unless you've got some superhuman gift):
Be quick to admit your failure.
Ask for forgiveness.
Deal with the consequences.
Repeat often.
Do you have a hard time forgiving yourself mistakes? Or when you disappoint others?
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
A Letter to the Ethiopian Eunuch
Jan 29, 2012 Amber Haines
Back when the church first began, you traveled to Jerusalem to worship. It's described that your way back home to your Queen and her treasure is a desert road. I imagine your chariot like my car pulled off on the side. Maybe a break to find a little drink. Maybe you say "I can go no further. What is it I'm missing?" You send your questions up, "Who is this humiliated man I'm reading about here? Why is he led to slaughter?"
Far away, right about the time that Stephen is stoned and hearts feel like desert-places, God speaks to Philip, "Go way out of your way for me. Go way into the desert." And the Spirit comes to you there by whispering to Philip as you read in Isaiah. Is he weary, I wonder, until you remind him to speak in scarlet, the story of Jesus?
It must have been so good. Oh I know it was, having been to the desert myself. Deserts make the water so good. When you and Philip see the water and you ask what prevents you from being baptized, and then you get in? What thrills me is that Phillip gets in, too. He gets right in with you – brothers, covered. Did Phillip wonder who was baptizing who?
And like elation from a deep breath, he evaporates, disappears. And your joy, the way you went on rejoicing, as in, you never stopped with it? That part makes me want to sing without care, arms straight up.
It's been 2,000 years, and today Ethiopian men, women, and children are worshipping, all woven with scarlet thread, that joy you brought with the Great Commission. A cancelled adoption process led my husband there to witness it, gospel, a journey to learn how to serve, without bringing home a daughter, one of those desert road experiences that leads to the water.
God's glory is for All. My firstborn asked me to read about it to him, Acts chapter 8, and as I did just 3 months ago, tears filled his eyes, and he spoke your exact words, "What prevents me from being baptized?"
And so he was – on a beautiful Sunday morning in Arkansas, USA. Desert roads up ahead, we read the story – we become the story – and we go on rejoicing.
photo credit
***
Here I've poured out my gratitude for a man who has changed my life, the Ethiopian Eunuch. Let it be that we are not only quick to make requests, but that we are also quick to praise. I praise God for the role of the Ethiopian church in my life, as a part of this global and beautiful body. I praise God, too, for the desert places.
Now your turn! Let us know how God has answered your prayers. Praise Him from whom all blessings flow.
:angel:
Q & A about our (in)RL Conference – Ask Anything!
I Still Believe
The Peripheral
Q & A about our (in)RL Conference – Ask Anything!
Jan 30, 2012 12:40 am | Lisa-Jo
What on earth is this (in)RL conference you guys keep going on about?
Oh I'm so glad you asked! Start here, with the "Why (in)RL?" video and then we'll try to answer other questions in the post and welcome any more in the comments!
{Subscribers, you can click here to view the video}
Why aren't you guys just having a regular conference?
Well, we thought and prayed about it long and hard. And because the heart of (in)courage is community. We wanted to bring the conference to you rather than ask you to come to us.
We also like that it means we won't need to limit the number of tickets. No one will have to sweat the price of travel and accommodation, and moms won't have to leave their kids or worry about child care. We love that it means no one will have to feel left out in any way, shape or form.
But mostly we love that it gives us a chance to connect women in real life. No travel required. Just (in)courage right where you are as a way to engage with instant, local community. We believe the new friendships you'll make will outlast anything we could organize at a specific location. We want to help you form connections that go beyond the blog post so that you can continue to (in)courage one another in real life for months and even years to come.
How much does it cost to register?
It's only $10 and with that you get an (in)RL t-shirt as well as the Simply Marvelous card pack.
Do I need to register on Eventbrite and RSVP to a meetup?
Yup, register here through Eventbrite so we can send you your (in)RL t-shirt as well as the Simply Marvelous card pack and webcast login details. Then be sure and find a meetup near you and RSVP so that the host knows you'll be attending. The heart of (in)RL is for women to connect in person after all.
What are the meetups for?
Because, like you, we think real life community is essential to grow in friendships and faith, we wanted to give the (in)courage community a chance to connect in real life. We figured it would be a fun surprise to discover other women right in your neighborhood that all spend time at (in)courage on a daily basis. So wouldn't it be great if you could spend time together in real life?
Do you have to be a blogger to attend?
Nope, the (in)RL beach house parties are open to women everywhere – whether you blog, just read blogs or have never heard of a blog. Come one, come all!
What time will the (in)RL meetup start on Saturday?
That will be up to each individual host – check out your local meetup page for details.
How long will the (in)RL meetup last on Saturday?
Again, this is up to each host. But the time frame we're recommending is about 3 hours. Meetup hosts will share time and venue based on varied time zones and we'll be providing video content that meetups can tune into, which explore the topic of gritty, beautiful, messy, real life community together. We have a line up of 8 videos each ranging in length from 6-25 minutes for hosts to choose from on Saturday.
How do I become an (in)RL meetup host?
Yay-we're so glad you asked! First, register for (in)RL so that we can send you your (in)RL t-shirt as well as the Simply Marvelous card pack. Then click over to our meetups page and see if there's one planned in your area already. If there is, why not join them? If not, then go ahead and start a new community meetup.
Where should I host my (in)RL meetup?
Anywhere you feel the most comfortable. Be that your own home, a restaurant, a coffee shop, a park, a spot in your church or a barn. Wherever works for you works for us.
How can I spread the news about my (in)RL meetup?
If you are planning to host, there are downloadable (in)RL invites as well as (in)RL Save the Datesthat you can customize and that are available on the Host page.
Where can I connect with other hosts {and swap ideas}
We'd love if you all (in)couraged one another – bring your questions and genius ideas over here to our ongoing BlogFrog discussion.
What is the Beach House in a Box?
The (in)RL Beach House in a Box is simply a resource for our (in)RL hosts. It includes home décor items and guest giveaway kits available for purchase the first week of February at crazy discounted prices. It's not a must for hosts, just a lovely plus if you're interested.
Where do I purchase a Beach House in a Box?
Starting in February there will be 3 Beach House in a Box Kits available for hosts to purchase at crazy reduced prices (Box 1: $25 for over $115 value, Box 2: $40 for $155 value, Box 3: $55 for $215 value.)
On a scale of 1 to awesome, how awesome do you think it's gonna be?
We're giving it a deep fried chocolate awesome two thumbs up rating. 'Nuff said :)
Got more questions – we've got loads more answers over here at the (in)RL Q & A page. And we're totally gonna be responding to every question that you can think up in the comments today - yup, go on – lay your (in)RL Q's on us and we'll try and bring all the A's.
with love and anticipation,
Lisa-Jo, (in)RL fan and (in)courage community cheerleader
:angel:
You may know Jeremy Camp for his hit Christian Contemporary music– he's got nineteen! no. 1 hits and has won several major Dove Awards. He's spending time with us at Bloom (in)courage to share his inspiring story of Discovering hope and healing in the midst of life's deepest valleys–all chronicled in his new book, I Still Believe. Jeremy will be back again tomorrow with more of his story and a giveaway of his new book.
***
I think one of my greatest desires for writing I Still Believe and having people read it would be to show that I'm just an ordinary person like you.
People say to me
"You must best a great man of faith to go through this."
Or they say,
"I don't know if I could handle that and continue to walk through proclaiming God's goodness."
When I hear these comments, I always tell people that first of all God will give you the same grace, ability and strength to walk through whatever He has laid before you because we all have the same Spirit. I'm not this great, awesome guy — well hopefully my wife thinks so — but I desire to grow more just like each of you.
For me this book was an amazing opportunity to share deeply about my story and in that process show you how the Lord has taken me from a life of faith with my childhood and observing how as a young child, God has instilled strength in my life to endure what I went through.
At a young age in California, I met the love of my life- her name was Melissa- she was an amazing woman. She loved Jesus more than anything else in this world. I quickly fell in love with her because of her heart for The Lord. I quickly told her, "Hey I think I'm in love with you." My quick proclamation of love caused the relationship to kind of go south a bit. It was a little too soon at the time to share my love for her, but I for sure knew she was the one. To make a long story short, we ended up getting engaged. However, before we got engaged, I found out that she had cancer, so we were walking through that at the time.
During her treatment she lost all of her hair, and I used to call her my beautiful, bald-haired, brown-eyed babe. She loved that. It was one of our little things we had together. I was so thankful that God prepared me for that time, but you can never really prepare fully for that type of thing yet I know God had prepared my heart in the beginning.
We were married and when we got back from our honeymoon, I remember us going to the doctor to have her re-tested to see how the progress was coming with the cancer treatment. The doctor pulled me aside and he said, "Jeremy, it has come back. It has spread rapidly and there is nothing else we can do for Melissa." And I was like, "What do you mean? What's the next step?" He then shared that she had weeks to months to live.
Melissa & Jeremy, October 2000
This was the most devastating thing you could ever hear being 23 years old and your wife is 21 and you just got married. It was such a battle — having everybody in the world praying and really seeking The Lord. I remember one time Melissa asked me when she was very weak from the cancer – she said, "Jeremy, let's worship The Lord." And so I pulled my guitar out and here we are singing, I cry out for your hand of mercy to heal me, for You are good, for You are good, You are good to me.
This moment meant so much to me. In the midst of no matter what kind of hardship, what kind of trial, He is still good. We still cry out. We cried out until the day she went to be with The Lord.
I remember that day when she took her last breath. God spoke to my heart and said I want you to stand up and worship me. And I did. I stood up even though it was the hardest thing I ever did. I lifted my hands – at that point, I remember understanding obedience. Even in the midst of hardships. And understanding that no matter what we go through, He is worthy to be praised.
So, I hope you can see that no matter who you are, God will give you the grace and the strength to go through whatever trials you may be going through. And He loves you.
In 2 Corinthians 5:17,
He says- Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
We are a new creation so we can walk through those things together as the Holy Spirit has given us this time.
There is also a scripture in 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 that says:
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
What He has in store for us is such a beautiful thing. I pray that you are encouraged, you're comforted and that others will come to know Christ as their personal Lord and Savior through my story. And I tell people, give it [the book] to someone that doesn't know Christ or someone that is going through a difficult time. And I pray that they come to know Christ through this.
That's my heart, that's my desire. So, I pray that God ministers to your soul through I Still Believe.
By Jeremy Camp
:angel:
:Most of us perceive the peripheral as details of minor relevance or importance. My opinion is changing.
pe·riph·er·al
of, relating to, or being the outer part of the field of vision.
The main focus of this photograph is what is in this image. But you cannot imagine how it really was to be there because you cannot see the peripheral; dozens and dozens of hot air balloons, creating a feeling and image so spectacular and surreal, even a panoramic couldn't capture it. They surrounded us....360 degrees.
It reminds me of my dad's house after he died. Describing him as an accumulator of all things was an understatement. The pictures I attempted to take of rooms and rooms literally filled to the ceiling did not and could not capture the immensity and enormity of what my brother and I had to face. It is because you cannot see the peripheral in the photographs. The feeling of being in all that stuff was overwhelming. His death was overwhelming. But in the picture, you could only see one small section. The feeling was lost.
Daily and moment by moment, I see only a small part of a big picture in my life. I meander through my day not noticing all His wondrous gifts.
Being thankful is changing my perspective and taking a film off of my eyes that I never knew was there.
In hindsight, I see a bigger viewpoint that reveals the work God was and is doing in my life. At times, however, I am unable to see the peripheral.
Imagine your day if you went through it aware that you cannot always see the peripheral.
Or that you become aware that there is a peripheral to see. Would you open you eyes wider?
Maybe we would move slower and notice more; not just look, but see; and not just hear but really listen.
Especially those times of adversity, growing pains, and times that seem obscure. And sometimes, just to see the extraordinary in the ordinary.
And Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" And the blind man said to him, "Rabbi, let me recover my sight." Mark 10:51
I pray I recover my sight. All of it. Even the peripheral.
By Christina AKA Homeschool Mom
angel:
Loving a Wild One
Jan 31, 2012 Sarah Mae
"My daughter is so out-of-control...she's been like this right out of the womb! What do I do?!"
"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." Ephesians 6:4
You have a wild one, a wild child you feel is out of control.
You're at your wits about what to do. You don't want her to become a wild out-of-control teenager, but discipline is not working, in fact, she laughs in the face of discipline. Oh friends, how I understand! I have a nearly 3 -year-old little spit-fire, beautiful, crazy girl, who I love desperately, but who drives me mad sometimes. Mad. As in crazy coo-coo. Just send me to the place with the white walls 'cause mama has lost it.
I mean, what do you do with a child like that? Well, I'll tell you what I'm learning.
You love them like mad.
More specifically, try these things (many of which were inspired by Sally Clarkson):
Tell your little one that they are a delight.
Sometimes with this one, the words have to come first. I was not delighting my darling Caroline, but I said the words to her, "you, Caroline, are a delight!" and in my head I would pray, "Oh Father, please make these words true." And He did.
Stop spanking
If spanking isn't working, or things keep getting worse, please don't keep spanking them. Spanking wasn't working for my sweet one, and my friend and mentor said to me, "I really think Caroline would obey you if she could." I took those words to heart...somehow my little one was not getting the message through physical discipline. So I stopped, and I started doing a few other things instead...
More time, kisses, and cuddles
I began spending more time, making more time, for my Care (Caroline). I started cuddling with her more, kissing her more, spending more time at bedtime, praying over her, singing to her and constantly giving her words of affirmation, "I love you Caroline, you are beautiful and smart and you are a delight! God loves you. I'm so glad you are my girl."
Show compassion
When Care hits, I take her hands in mine and I rub them on my face and I say, "hands are for love, not hurting." She knows this so well by now that I can ask her what hands are for and she says, "for loooooooove." When she yells or is unkind, I bend down to her and say, "let's use our words kindly; let's be gentle." I'm not saying not to discipline your babes, for Care a time-out or a small spoon of vinegar works well, but I am saying to be intentionally compassionate and gentle.
Remember who you are: a sinner and a saint
You, my friend, are not perfectly obedient. You and I, we mess up, we try, we fight, we are stubborn, we believe lies, and we sin. But we love God, and He loves us with a wild, unyielding grace. He is slow to anger and abounding in love, graciousness, compassion, and faithfulness. Remember who your children are, little ones with a sin nature, and yet made in the image of God. Train them up in love and discipline, with compassion, kindness, and grace, just as your Father does to you.
My friends, your wild one wants to please you, whether you believe it or not. But God tells us not to exasperate them, not to provoke by being to harsh with them. You can't exasperate a child into pleasing you (you can make a robot, but don't you want their heart?), they will just become more frustrated...or more discouraged. Go for their heart. It takes much, much more time to nurture the heart, but it's real. And it's how to love well.
My Caroline has changed.
Is she still spirited and a bit crazy? Oh yes. But she is much sweeter and more obedient than before. And you know what else?
I delight in her.
By Sarah Mae, Like a Warm Cup of Coffee
...
I Recommend:
Seasons of a Mother's Heart (and pretty much every book by Sally Clarkson)
Heartfelt Discipline: The Gentle Art of Training and Guiding Your Child (I believe this is coming back in print)
:angel:
I Still Believe: What I've Learned The Last 10 years {and a giveaway}
Jan 31, 2012 Jeremy Camp
Jeremy," my friend said softly, "it's time."
I rose and walked back toward the other room, crying all the way. I couldn't believe it, but I knew: The moment had arrived to say goodbye to my wife.
This was 10 years ago. Ten years since I said goodbye to my wife Melissa who was dying of cancer. I've received so many questions since I wrote my book I Still Believe. Many have asked why it took me 10 years to write a book after going through the loss of my first wife. Why did it take so long? I asked myself that question as I was sitting down to write this book and talking to someone that helped me with my manuscript. The words that came to my mind are process and timing.
You see I realized that all that God was teaching me was through this process. I looked back on 10 years and see that I have grown so much spiritually. A decade ago I wasn't ready to write the book, and I know it took all these years reach this point. I always knew I was going to eventually write my story. It was something that I knew God had to change my heart for me to be ready to share my story in a book. I was waiting for that time that I could look back and say God has taught me amazing things, beyond anything I could imagine. And it was just His timing...His perfect timing.
When I started writing I Still Believe, I wrote about what God has been doing now in my life and how I went through the loss and devastation of having to watch my wife suffer through cancer on her journey to go be with Jesus. I also share how I've come full circle now into the point where I have a beautiful family. I have three children now. I have a beautiful wife, Adrienne and my two girls Isabella and Arianne. In August, we welcomed our newborn son, Egan, who has just stolen my heart. They all have stolen my heart. It has been an amazing time, but I think a lot of our lessons in our life are really about God's timing
In my book, I share about something my friend Jon told me.
Jeremy, I know it doesn't make sense but that is a part of the bigger picture. Through the suffering God has a greater purpose. In heaven now, Melissa's reward is great. If we can look at things from an eternal perspective, we can see that her reward is so much greater than any earthly suffering.
The bigger picture: We all have stories to share and sometimes there are things God wants to do in our hearts, there is a process, and it is just timing for Him to teach us these lessons. There were so many things I had to learn first before I wrote my book. I'm so grateful for the process and timing.
How is God teaching you about His perfect timing?
By Jeremy Camp
***
Leave a comment sharing how God is teaching you about his perfect timing to be entered to win one of 5 copies of I Still Believe plus Jeremy's latest CD, We Cry Out: The Worship Project.
We'll be announcing winners on Friday.
You can follow updates from Jeremy at his site, find more information about I Still Believe here and read the first chapter of the book here.
:angel:
Churched: One Kid's Journey Toward God Despite a Holy Mess [Free Download]
Feb 01, 2012 Matthew Paul Turner
My name is Matthew, and while you're probably not familiar with me, you might know my bubbly, talented, beautiful wife, Jessica. While I admit that I rarely visit (in)courage and Bloom, I talk about it all the time. With my wife, of course. And I've sung the praises of (in)courage more than one might think. Why? Because the community and ministry that happens here at this blog is unique, valuable, and inspiring. It's like a church in some ways, a community of believers that encourage, pray, and inspire one another to live well. I know that's true for Jessica. All that said, thank you for what each of you bring to this community, for sharing your life's joys as well as your struggles, and for truly caring for one another.
A couple years ago I wrote Churched: One Kid's Journey Toward God Despite A Holy Mess. This book is funny, heartfelt, and very personal. Through a collection of stories, thoughts, and a few punch lines I share bits and pieces of how I met God.
Whenever somebody asks me for a short synopsis of my church upbringing, I usually say, "Well, I went to a church where my Sunday school teacher burned Barbie to explain hell."
That description, while certainly funny, also describes why I sort of had to survive my childhood church experiences and why faith and trust doesn't always come easy for me.While today, I can say that most of pastors's and teachers's intentions were good, the effects of fear, no matter what the intentions, have a longstanding impact on people. It took me a long time to understand that.
And no doubt, a part of me is still unpacking some of those fears today.
Churched is a humorous retelling of the stories that I've already unpacked, and though most readers certainly recognize the threads of pain and fear, most readers also laugh. And I love that. I believe there's hope and healing in laughter.
I'm pleased to offer the audio version of me reading Churched here on Bloom – for free. Just click here to download it.
I hope you enjoy the stories.
And, because I love hearing the stories of others: If you grew up in church, what's a strange or funny memory from your church experience?
May God bless and keep you.
Matthew Paul Turner
:angel:
When You Need Friends {But Have A Hard Time Finding Them}
Feb 01, 2012 Kristen Strong
I'm out of breath from hurrying {though I'm still late} and forcing my stubborn side-by-side double stroller up the hill to the playgroup location, an indoor playground. I'm nervous, too, since I'm visiting for the first time. I heave the heavy door open and awkwardly bang the stroller against the frame a half a dozen times before making it through. Once inside and settled, I approach moms and chat as best I can while wrangling waggling toddlers. I finally realize this familiar, established sorority isn't interested in pursuing conversation with me beyond introductions.
A short while later, I find a local mom's group. Soon after joining, I volunteer to host a meeting in my home. I clean house, cook snacks, and wrestle kids. Then I wait as not. one. person shows up.
These and other friend discouragements found me thiiiis close to putting a sign in my yard saying, "Desperate woman seeks friends!" If there had been a way to do it without looking so, ya know, desperate I would have done it. After all, I had the poster board and markers.
The most frustrating part? I was willing to put effort into initiating friendships. So what's a girl to do when she's plumb tuckered from trying to make friends but knows she still needs them?
She keeps trying.
Because the only way to guarantee never making friends is never trying again. And if I want near and dear relationships, it's going to take here and now effort.
3 {not as sign-in-front-yard-desperate} things I did to make friends:
Show up. I regularly showed up at Barnes and Noble storytime, the park, and our church. Every Sunday, I would hang around church after the service, talking to other women. My husband would wink and say, "Ya know, baby, we don't have to close the place every Sunday." But fortunately he was sympathetic to my problem and saw the opportunity for what it was: a regular place to meet regular women. Church was a good place to find – like the Nester wisely says – an automatic bench. By staying and talking with women there, I eventually formed friendships with some of them.
Open up. As in, my house. You now know people didn't always come, but usually they did. Sometimes for lunch, sometimes for dinner. Some of them we didn't know well beforehand {at first}, but that was okay. The point of having them over for dinner was to get to know them. Besides, everyone likes to eat! {And remember, you can always give this a go!}
Lift up. I would tell God my friendship frustrations, and I didn't always use my sweet Sunday school voice, either. Since none of my problems surprise Him, I knew I could be honest, whiney voice and all. God's heart was for me to have community, and I was not the exception to the rule {neither are you}. I lifted up my friendship anxieties to Him because He cares.
God's grace rained down on my friendship dry spell, and through that grace I learned valuable lessons in the waiting. It wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Sometimes the harder we fight for something, the sweeter the success.
If today finds you in a friendship dry spell, it's not that you don't have friends. It's that you don't have friends yet. The Author and Perfecter of your faith loves you wildly. We give our burdens to Him and receive His rhythms of grace, His just-right timing for all good things.
What do you do when you're tired from trying to make friends? What have you learned in your own friendship dry spells?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Embedded
Randi Helm
This has been a long few years for me. Like so many, I've been in the throws of dire situations with seemingly no way out. I sometimes look back and think, wow, I can't believe what I've been through, and am still going through.
Pulling the curtain back on my life I get the clear impression that I am embedded. I am nestled right in between a rock and a hard place with little to no wiggle room. This season has formed around my soul and engulfed me.
Softly I hear the voice of my Heavenly Father speak,
"The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still." (Exodus 14:14 NIV)
But in order to hear Him I have had to be quiet and I am not often quiet when I struggle.
When difficult things happen I think it is so natural to fight, kick, fuss and try to change things. When you put your hand in the flame you the pain makes you instinctively pull it back out. I am a fixer by nature. I'm always trying to problem solve and I have not had much success with all the complicated and unresolved problems that loom over me. The frustration that things haven't changed is the most difficult for me.
But there is something that is beginning to change. It's me. At times feel like a child who is held tight during a full blown tantrum. Finally, I am beginning to rest out of pure exhaustion in the arms of my loving Father. I have no energy to fight, fuss or even pray for that matter if I'm being honest. In this emerging moment of my life I really begin to grasp that the Lord understands. I have to face my weakness in order to embrace His sufficiency.
"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." (Romans 8:26 NIV)
When He tells me to be still, He means it. It is for my own good. In being still the Spirit of God goes before the Father on my behalf to pray for me. It's in this act of surrender that heaven touches my soul and I get a sense that there is more to what I'm going through than meets my eye and I begin to wonder.
Perhaps becoming embedded has freed me in a way I had never thought of before. Oh don't get me wrong, I so feel like a prisoner at times but I'm finding freedom in ways I had not expected. Being imbedded forces me to discover the promises of God. I will either be swallowed up by fear, anger and doubt or choose a different path. The power of God is at work here. Only the Lord could make me have a desire to rest in His promises. Left to myself, I would lose the battle with fear.
Once again, I softly hear the voice of my Heavenly Father whisper the words King David wrote,
"Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you." (Psalm 9:10 NIV)
I would not need to hear these words if I weren't embedded. I could not know the realities found in this promise if I hadn't been here.
by Randi Helm
:angel:
To see this picture go to (IN)Courage at www.incourage.me
and you will see it. Sorry, still do not know how to post the pictures here. Someday. This is a pretty project for the handy to do. Kids will enjoy it too. jh
He First Loved Us
Feb 02, 2012 Jennifer
I thought it would be fun to share with you a sweet little heart garland project. Perfect for February. What better time to create a project that reminds us of God's love. Oh, how He loves us. Through our faults and joys and mistakes and sorrows.
I want the reminder. I need the reminder. No matter what happens in this world... He loves me. I have His consistent love. His love for me has taught me to love. I can love with same beautiful, unconditional love.
We love because He first loved us. 1 John 4:19
The love we receive from God allows us to return that love and to spread that love to others. True love originates in God.
So let's get started!
First you need paper. Any kind of paper will work. I wanted to use a paper that had color on both sides since you will be able to see both sides when the project is finished. I didn't have any double sided paper, so I simply made my own.
I used just plain 8 ½" x 11" white card stock and brought out my watercolor paints.
I painted both sides and let them dry overnight. I did weight mine down so the paper would not wrinkle, which it will do a little bit as it dries.
Next, I cut each sheet into 1" strips. That gives me 11 strips from each piece of paper. If you want larger hearts, you can cut longer strips.
Each heart will take 6 strips of paper plus a center strip. Leave 2 strips the full length. Cut 1 ½" from 2 strips and 3" from 2 strips. (For the center strips, I cut some full length strips in half. You will see where this is used a bit later.)
I wanted to put my reminder of God's love right on the hearts. We love because He first loved us. I added white paint to the watercolor and used vintage letter stamps to stamp out the verse. You can use stamps to do this, letter stickers, or write it with your own handwriting! You can also use ink instead of paint.
Stamp your words on the longest strips.
Now you can lay out each heart. Start with one of your center strips. Put one long strip on either side, then a middle size strip on either side, and then a smaller strip on either side.
Stack them up in this same order. If you made any words, make sure they are facing in towards the center strip. That way when you get to the next step, they will bend to be seen on the outside.
Now, if you want to, you can secure these together. You could staple or clip them together while you do the next step. Or, like I did, have your husband step in and give you an extra hand. I decided to use decorative brads, so I did not staple anything.
I put my brad through, starting with one of the longest strips, then through the middle strip and then the smaller strip.
Next, push the brad through all the strips at the bottom. (If you stapled the bottom in the beginning, I would bring both sides of the heart down and then staple.)
Bring the other strips down and secure the brad.
Now do this process over and over and over for as many hearts as you want on your garland.
Punch a hole in the top of your center strip to hang. I strung my hearts up on a simple piece of twine.
I love to walk by and read the beautiful truth, "We love because He first loved us."
I hope this simple heart garland will inspire you to create something to remind you of God's love this February. If you have any questions, be sure to ask in the comments and I will answer them.
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
Those That Know Their God...
Feb 03, 2012 April Motl
The people who know their God will be strong and carry out great exploits. Daniel 11:32b NKJ
What does a really "great exploit" look like to you? What image does the word "strong" conjure up in your mind? For me, the definition of these words varies from day to day. On those bone-dry-so-tired-I-can-hardly-stand days I think a really great exploit consists of facing down yet another load of laundry, dishes and a grocery list. Yet there are other mornings my feet hit the floor and I am ready to take on anything! Perhaps you're the same way. Sometimes being strong is having the strength just to keep functioning, other times it consists of Herculean feats.
The Lord penned this verse through His servant Daniel. Interestingly, that was the Lord's message for His people during a time of bondage and captivity. Is this a day full of Herculean strength or a just-help-me-keep-going day? For Israel, it was a number of just-help-me-keep-going years! They were in captivity.
Is there anything holding you captive today? Guilt? A broken relationship? A bad habit? Bitterness? Whatever it might be, the Lord still says to you, "know Me and you will be strong and carry out great exploits."
Some years back when I was in desperate need of some strength injected into my life, I bemoaned my out of control schedule and circumstances to a friend and sister in the Lord. Her quick reply to my wailing was, "what attribute of the Lord are you forgetting?" Excuse me? Hello? I was telling you about the finances, the schedule, my dying loved one! She repeated her question and she was right. Embarrassingly enough, I have this tendency to forget that God IS God and that means He is the One in control- maybe you do too! And when I remembered that He was still sitting on His throne, sovereignly sifting the events of my life through His loving hands I could rest and even thrive despite the circumstances.
Those who know their God.... The key to having the strength to carry out those great exploits of life from laundry to touching eternity lies in knowing God. That word know is yada, the same Hebrew word describing the act of intercourse. This is not a casual, brief once a week, small talk kind of relationship. It is an intimate, sacred one. Does this describe your relationship with God? Or do you have a once a week, small talk kind of relationship with God?
Some people compartmentalize life. One situation goes in the business file, another in the family file and so on. If your relationship with God has been compartmentalized and consists of just putting in your time once a week on Sunday morning, there is something you should know: God doesn't fit in a file! He doesn't fill an hour and a half on your scheduler. If He seems distant, maybe it is because you are holding Him at a distance. Seek to yada Him and see the great explosion of exploits He works in your life.
By April Motl – Motl Ministries
:angel:
The Power that Lives Within Us
Feb 03, 2012 Dawn Camp
Sometimes we know we need to change, but it's hard to find the strength, the resolve. Maybe it's a bad habit or addiction that we just can't seem to kick, or a good habit that we need to start. Unfortunately, if you're like me you may tend to rely on yourself instead of Him.
I saw The Story Tour in Atlanta recently and Max Lucado was one of the hosts. At one point he spoke eloquently about our weakness and the Lord's strength. His words went something like this:
You may have a problem with alcoholism, but Jesus Christ doesn't, and he lives inside of you. You may have a problem with anger, but Jesus Christ doesn't, and he lives inside of you.
"You may have a problem with ______________, but Jesus Christ doesn't, and he lives inside of you."
I think we all have a thing or two we could use to fill in that blank. Goodness knows I do.
A couple of weeks later I heard the following verse and recalled Max Lucado's words, and the two tied together beautifully in my mind: this incredible power of Christ living within us.
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me:
and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God,
who loved me, and gave himself for me. ~Galatians 2:20
It's when I reach that low point—the "I don't know what I'm doing or how I'll get through this. Please help me" moment—that relief flows even before I see God's mercy in action. Blessings are found just in the letting go and acknowledging His control.
{I imagine God smiling down at this point and thinking, "Finally. She gets it."}
The Lord says, "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9) How can I glorify God if I rely on my own strength? I can't.
The power of Jesus Christ works through our weakness.
What about you? Do you have something that you need to let go of and hand over to Him? Remember, you may struggle with sin, but Jesus Christ doesn't, and he lives inside of you.
:angel:
The End of Darkness
Feb 04, 2012
Heather Gemmen Wilson
The Superbowl is coming to Indy, and every Hoosier wants to get involved (even though our beloved Colts aren't playing—no comment, please. :) More than six months ago, our church in Fishers, Indiana (a suburb of Indianapolis) tried to find out how we could serve, but no more volunteers were being accepted by the Superbowl committee—I think they already had 13,000 signed up. (Can you imagine turning away volunteers? It reminds me of that scripture passage where the Israelite leaders had to tell people to quit bringing gifts because they had too much.) And no wonder they are having such an overwhelming response. This nationwide event is an exciting thing to be a part of! I mean, even when I didn't know what a first down was, I was hosting Superbowl parties in my home. For one day a year, we all come together to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.
The cool thing is that volunteers are not just standing on the side of the road with a big blue hand pointing the way to the stadium. They are taking advantage of the hype to make positive changes in the city and around the nation—from environmental initiatives, to supporting tissue banks to promote the cure for cancer, to renovating youth centers, to encouraging student achievement, to enhancing the arts, to delivering gifts to hospitalized children—and so much more.
Sadly, folks with good intentions are not the only ones taking advantage of the hype. The attorney general recently warned law enforcement officers of the darker side of this world-wide event:
"Greg Zoeller says there will be an increase in demand for the illegal commercial sex trade in connection with the Super Bowl and, he says, we ought to expect that some of sex workers who come here are the victims of human trafficking."*
Officers and taxi-drivers and volunteers are being trained to identify trafficking victims and to know how to respond. Anti-trafficking organizations are praying fervently and ramping up accessibility to shelters for sex workers trying to escape from their en-slavers.
I'm thankful our leaders and grassroot organizations are dealing with this issue head on, but it's dreadful to think we even have to. How could people be so evil that they would abuse other human beings in such profound and humiliating ways? It's hard to comprehend.
I wonder, sometimes, how God bears it. When he looks down at his inheritance, his beloved children, and sees the wickedness that has overcome us, how is it possible that he doesn't avert his eyes, doesn't abandon us altogether? Oh, how I praise him for his mercy and his faithful love!
Someday the Lord will return, and that world-wide event that brings all people together on bended knee will not be tainted by ugly deeds. On that day, goodness will be released to its full degree and beauty will be our only concern. Come soon, Lord Jesus!
:angel:
Celebrate
Deidra
In college, I went to a church where the women wore amazingly beautiful hats and the men wore pocket squares that matched their ties. The choir processed down the aisle every Sunday morning – heads thrown back, steps matched, voices strong and joyful. They sang "I'm glad to be in the service one more time," and no one could stay in their seats when they sang it. It was a celebration. A community gathered – all in one place, with one thing on their minds: telling God "thank you" for getting us through another week.
We clapped our hands and sang together, and some people lifted open hands up to the air – a gesture that seemed to whisper, "Here, God. Take it. It's too big for me, but I know You can handle it. I NEED You to handle it." We'd sing out, and the Hammond organ would punctuate our songs with high-pitched runs, or driving low notes rising from the pedals below. The choir would make their way to the choir stand and they would rock the house. And there was dancing and there was praising and there was freedom everywhere I looked.
When the preacher preached, he stood tall and wore a black robe and stretched out his arms to place both palms flat on the pulpit. He always started with the bible, and the people who sat in the pews turned pages of their own and it sounded like the flutter of wings. His voice was low and strong and he unpacked those words on thin pages so they seemed to dance in the air and we knew God could see us. We knew it and believed it, and it was real and true.
At the end of the service, we'd all stand, and we'd join hands across the aisle. And if you were sitting on the end of an aisle near the window, you'd reach behind you or in front of you to hold the hand of the person in the next row. Everyone connected to each other. No one left out. Together we would sing, "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow," and it was percussive and the drums spurred us on. And when we finished, the pastor would pronounce the benediction and the last word was always, "Peace."
Deidra @ Jumping Tandem
:angel:
NOT a DIY Diva {finding authenticity as keepers of our homes}
Feb 06, 2012 Melissa Michaels
I recently wrote a little ebook called NOT a DIY Diva: How to Create an Authentically-Inspired Life in a Pinterest World. While the concept of being a DIY Diva may not immediately resonate, or perhaps the online inspiration site called Pinterest is new to you, I think many of us can relate to the inner struggle to find authenticity in our life.
And if we are honest, most of us struggle with the comparison game in one way or another.
This book gently opens up the discussion of what we feel inside about our life and home and the subsequent choices we make with how to spend our limited time and funds each day.
As women and keepers of our homes, we really do desire to live in a place of contentment. But no matter what image we subconsciously project on the outside, sometimes, on the inside, we don't think who we are, what we do and what we have is actually good enough.
We suffer from the disease of perfection. We might spend too much money on things we can't afford, time on things we feel we are expected to master, or on projects or activities that are not really our priority at all. We strive to create a facade that ultimately doesn't lead to contentment or effectiveness in life, because it isn't authentic.
It is about my every day struggle (and maybe yours) to figure out what works for me as the keeper of my home in this try-hard to keep all the plates spinning Photoshop-perfect world.
This book encourages us to find balance and make peace with our inability to be perfect in our imagine obsessed world — where a whole lot of people present themselves as pretty close to perfect every single day. Or at least we assume they must be, because that is what we see. Even their messes look prettier in pictures than ours. It is the message we take to heart. We can't measure up to what others present on the outside any more than we can keep up with our own inner image of perfection.
How do we discover and embrace what is good enough, clean enough, or pretty enough for us?
This book encourages you to create beauty out of the home and life you actually have, not the one you exhaust yourself or your finances striving to attain. It gives you permission and confidence to be YOU, the real creative you. It is a short, quick read but I hope you'll find it inspiring and encouraging! And I hope you'll share your journey to authenticity with me!
Enter to win your own copy of this ebook!
You can enter to win a copy of this ebook this week by simply answering the following question. 5 winners will be chosen from the comments and announced on Friday.
When I read some blogs or see people around me who appear to have it all together, I sometimes feel like
_________________________________.
I would love for you to join me at my blog, The Inspired Room, and The Inspired Room Facebook page, where we try to balance living a beautiful life with striving for contentment and peace right where we are. Find out more about this ebook and buy your own pdf copy at NOT a DIY Diva.
:angel:
God At 2 O'clock
Feb 06, 2012 12:10 am | Sarah Roberts
It happened again.
I forgot who I serve. All because it was 2 AM.
By the light of day, I trust Him. I spout the verses that assure me of His might and grace. I smile confidently because the things I tell myself about Him aren't just things I tell myself, they're the absolute TRUTH.
But 2 Am is sneaky. It passes by without bothering me for awhile. I sleep soundly, peacefully through it for weeks. And then one random night, my eyes fly open and I feel every muscle in my body tense. My hearing has improved exponentially and my stomach feels like lead. I climb from my sheets and creep down the hall. I peer out my kitchen window on to the empty street, scanning for movement. My fingers slide across each dead bolt and every window lock. I steal into my boys' rooms and watch the rise and fall of their bellies. I whisper faithless prayers for their protection. Then I slip back down in my bed, eyes wide open. I contemplate waking my husband, but what would I tell him? Fear blankets me for hours.
Maybe it's the dark. Perhaps it is the stillness. It could easily be too many hours watching the 10 o'clock news. My overactive imagination surely bears some guilt.
When I wake up the morning after a 2 AM night, guilt greets me like an all-to-eager pup licking my face. How could I be so irrational? So untrusting? I beat myself up as soon as my feet hit the floor and I am defeated before my day even begins.
Satan, for the win.
Unless.
Unless I see it for what it actually is, a reality of my flesh. Sin. Struggle.
I rationalize my fear. I declare I am simply aware, responsible, conscientious, and most of all prepared. I listen to the voice that says the safety of my family is my job. If I am not on my toes, and bad things happen, it's my fault. I give myself a whole lot of power.
It's all a smoke screen. Healthy responsibility doesn't cripple. Reasonable preparation doesn't debilitate. To deal with it, I have to call it what it is, inability to trust, belief that I am more capable than the God of the universe. I name it, sin.
And then the miracle of repentance is unleashed. I am free. Free from 2 AM fear? Not necessarily. Free from sinning again? Definitely not.
Free to release. I can unclench my fists and let fall the pieces of my false responsibility, and my desperation for control. I can exhale the heavy weight of "all by myself" and see truth.
The truth is He's got this. Every minute of every hour of every day of every person in my home are known to Him. And just in case I'm tempted to believe He's out there somewhere just watching them all play out, His Word assures me that He is in my corner.
"... God assured us, ' I'll never let you down, never walk off and leave you,' we can boldly quote, God is there, ready to help; I'm fearless no matter what. Who or what can get to me?"
Hebrews 13:5-6
The Message
As I release my fear, my sin to Him, He is faithful to offer me compassion and a better way. When the guilt that Satan would choose to warp into despair tempts me to look down, and I instead choose to look up, I see the eyes of my Savior whose love already conquered my 2 AM nights.
By Sarah Roberts, at October Always
:angel:
When You Want to Be Known
Feb 06, 2012 12:10 am | Emily Freeman
Young Truman: I want to be an explorer, like the Great Magellan.
Teacher: [indicating a map of the world] Oh, you're too late! There's nothing left to explore!
- from The Truman Show
I stand in the middle of the red brick road, the sky perfect blue above me, the picket fences perfect white beside me. I walk slow and marvel at the eerily cheerful colored houses, bright but empty. I am Truman Burbank, minus the cameras and the goofy smile. Well, and lots of other things too but you know what I mean. I understand Truman as I stand there, know why he would want to travel the world and explore. Because the thing that makes this place so uncomfortable is also what is supposed to make it great – it's too perfect.I stand in the middle of the busy hallway, children stuck to my side. I want to be real but the line isn't moving and I have to get these children into Sunday school, you know. Sometimes there is only time for fine at church. I am Truman again and I want to explore, be explored, want you to see what goes on behind these eyes. But it's late and I'm tired and maybe there's nothing left worth finding anyway.
I wrote a whole chapter on what it means to hide behind our picket fences, to show the world our prettied up versions, to say we're fine even when we're not because it's safer or maybe we're just lazy. I still struggle with this one, circle around this word authenticity, wrestle with how the meaning changes for me as I get older. I've talked with lots of women about this and there is always the argument that sometimes when people ask how I'm doing, they don't really want to know. And I'd have to agree with that.I hesitate as I write this, though, because isn't this a tired conversation? Haven't we exhausted this concept already? Are there still honestly ways I hide from you and the world and my husband? Is there anything left to explore?
My circle is small and those who really know me are few. But they are there and they are listening and I am thankful. I've grown in my ability to be honest with people I trust. I think it's because of time and grace and being loved anyway enough times. I'm learning that they don't want to see lined up pretty with pastel cheeks, picket fence smiles and covered up secrets. They just want to see me.
Even after all you have read and heard and know about authenticity, is it still hard for you to practice? If yes, what makes it so and what would make it easier?
by Emily Freeman, Chatting at the Sky
:angel:
The Relevant Conference is Now Allume Social! WOOT!
Feb 07, 2012 12:00 Sarah Mae
Bring on the cupcakes and coffee (and some glitter for good measure), we are celebrating today!
Today is the day that we announce the name change of the popular Christian women's blogging and social media conference, Relevant. Relevant is now Allume Social!
What? Why? Where did that come from?
It all started when someone said to me, "have you asked RELEVANT magazine what they think about you being called Relevant?" Hmmm, um, nope, haven't done that. So I did. I emailed the head man over at RELEVANT and asked him what he thought about the fact that our name was the same as theirs. He was very gracious and just let me know that they had the name trademarked. "Well, that settles it, doesn't it?" We decided to begin the journey of changing the name. And a journey it was. HOURS of research and prayer and council and we finally landed on the name "allume" (say it a few times: ah-loom – just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?).
The word "allume" means "light" in French. We, being writers and creatives, have taken liberties with the word which is why we are pronouncing it "ah-loom". We chose this beautiful word because our vision for all we do is that we let Christ, the Light, come into our souls and bring to light all the dark places, and we in turn reflect that light to the world.
"But wait, " you're thinking, "I thought the conference was called allume social?" Oh yes friend, it is. Allume is the new community, and allume social is the conference that falls under the community. Turns out we had a much bigger vision than for just the conference.
Here's a handy dandy graphic to help explain:
Allume is kind of like a conference all year round. We'll be rolling out all the goodness in the near future, but in the meantime...
Celebrate with us tonight? We are having a Twitter party celebrating the Allume launch at 9pm EST under hashtag #allume. There will prizes, fun, and proverbial cupcakes. You can find out more by clicking here.
Allume.com
Allume.com/social
Like Allume on Facebook here.
Follow us on Twitter @allume.
:angel:
Homemaking {Finding Beauty and Passion in Being the Keeper of Your Home}
Melissa Michaels
I tried and failed at a lot of homemaking systems over the years. I read books that overwhelmed me with charts and steps and advice that I knew was wise and insightful, but it just didn't work for me long term. I needed to understand my own passion and style of living first so I could develop a simple daily routine that actually made sense for me.
For years and years now, I've used four daily routines to keep my house what I call "clean enough." These routines keep my home in fairly decent order even on the busiest of days. Having simple daily rituals is how I stay motivated and inspired at home! Once I found what systems and home making style worked for me and my season of life, and I made peace with my imperfection, I could enjoy and feel content with the home I had — rather than be overwhelmed or discouraged by it.
My ebook, NOT a DIY Diva is about nurturing a passion for being the creative keeper of your home. This isn't necessarily a "how to keep house" or "how to decorate" book, but rather gentle encouragement I hope will inspire you to seek beauty in having a home (whatever place you currently call home!), no matter what your own limitations or struggles are. I hope it will encourage you to enjoy the process of a creating a comfortable home that is authentic and personal to you and your family!
You can download a sample chapter of NOT a DIY Diva by clicking the NOT a DIY Diva sample page.
If you would like to find out more about this ebook as well as read endorsements, you can go to the website NOT a DIY Diva (you can also purchase your own pdf copy for $3.99, downloaded directly to your computer immediately upon purchase!).
You can also enter to win a copy here!
If you'd like to connect with other women who want to nurture homemaking, creativity and simple decorating skills (on a realistic budget of time and money!), I'd love for you to join me at my blog, The Inspired Room, each week. I share affordable and doable decorating ideas, motivation to keep up your home in simple ways, and encouragement to live the kind of life you want, in spite of our limitations and struggles. You can also find me on Facebook! I'd love to meet you!
What is your biggest struggle or feeling of limitation in creating a home you love? Let's share in the comments!
:angel:
group of chefs from the Food Network set out to complete what seems like an impossible task: feed 100 people with food that was destined for the garbage.
They expect only to find scraps but as they travel to markets and farms, what they discover is stunning.
Beautiful tomatoes with the slightest imperfections in their skins.
Gorgeous corn blown over by hurricane winds that no one will pick.
Eggs that are not quite the right size or shape.
In the end, they have abundance that turns into a joyful feast.
How can there be so much waste? is the question that lingers in their minds and those of the viewers too. Are we used to rejecting what's good but not perfect?
After I change the channel, the questions still linger.
And I realize that I have done the same in my life.
I fear what I create isn't adequate so I don't offer it.
I think what someone else does is better so I cast aside my strengths.
Maybe you too?
But the reality is that God wants to feed hearts through who we are–just as we are.
Let's dare to put our imperfections in his hands and let them have his way with them, with us.
It just may turn into an abundance of joy for more than we can even imagine.
Holley
:angel:
Remember To Breathe Out
Stephanie Spencer
I am not good at everything. I do not think this is big news to anyone who knows me. It should not be big news to me either.
But sometimes, it is news to me. Because sometimes, I feel like I should be good at everything; particularly when I have spent a lot of time on the Internet, looking for inspiration.
Sometimes the inspiration I think I am finding online is actually suffocation.
I breathe in original craft ideas I should make, powerful writing I should emulate, tasty recipes I should cook, and stories of world travels I should aspire to. Then I breathe in again, this time fashion combos I should wear, profound quotes I should remember, educational activities I should do with my kids, and Bible verses I should memorize. Then I breathe in again. And again. And again.
I suffocate because I forget to breathe out.
I breathe in these ideas meant to inspire me, and accumulate them into a new standard of what I think I should be. I suffocate under the weight of this idealized version of a real person.
I need to remember to breathe out. I need to breathe out with the words "I am not good at everything." And that is as it should be.
Because that does not mean I am not good at anything. Ephesians 2:10 says,
"For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."
Every person, including me, was crafted by God with gifts, to be used for a purpose. I should celebrate and explore the person God made me to be.
As I do that, I just need to remember that I was not crafted with every gift, for every purpose. That is why God also gave me community.
In Romans 12:4-6 says,
"For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us."
I think these verses can apply not only to spiritual gifts, but also to natural ones. So if my gift is crafting, I should craft. If it is cooking, I should cook. If it is writing, I should write. God designed me to use and share the gifts I've been given. God did not design me to spend my energy trying harder and harder to be good at the gifts He did not give me.
If I was good at everything, then I would stand in awe of myself. Since I am not, I can stand in awe of a God who created a diversity of people in a beautiful tapestry of interdependence.
So as we see others using their gifts, we should breathe them in. As we do, we can be encouraged and inspired. We just need to remember to also breathe out.
"I am not good at everything." Ahhhh. That felt good.
by Stephanie Spencer, Everyday Awe
:angel:
What You're Trying to Tell Him When You're Angry ..... {5 Ways to Fight Through to a Loving Marriage}
Feb 09, 2012 05:22 am | Ann Voskamp
Ithink we were standing outside the back door, out by the white pickup under the Big Dipper, when I turned and said it.
Said I hated him.
The dark can make you brave.
Or a fool.
But when you're twenty-two and think you know everything, panic can tear up your chest like this howl that has to rip free.
"I hate it when you stand there all quiet."
He kicks the ground with the toe of his boot, drives his hands deep into his Wranglers. Does he hear me at all?
"Hate how you just pull away. Hate how you always think I'm the problem and it's never you. Hate it, hate it — hate y..."
There. There it is, spewn sick over everything. And the moment that ugliness wrenches free, I feel released — and wretched. Ill.
I want to fling that wedding band encircling my finger and everything. And I want to somehow hold on tight.
I want him to hold me tight.
He turns his back.
How in the world did we get here and so fast and isn't this the mad dance that drives the wedded wild? For the first two years after our vows, it's the only dance we knew.
I'd thought I'd married the wrong man.
I don't know how many meals I ate silent, never lifting my eyes from the plate.
I do know how the dance went: a few steps and we'd rub each other the wrong way, irritation building and intimacy falling apart. I'd discuss and he'd distance. I'd rage and he'd disengage. I'd escalate and he'd escape.
Then the icy silence sets in — all this continental distance between us shifting past each other cold in the kitchen.
He'd say he had a migraine and go to bed right after dinner. I'd cry over the sink with the water running. I didn't know that the first law of love is to listen — listen to the ache under the anger.
No English teacher ever taught me what nearly 18 years of marriage now gives credence to: Anxiety and anger, they come from the same root word.
Anxiety, it can drive anger.
And an angry voice, it can be a cry of fear.
Fears dress up as anger – why didn't I tell him that sooner?
That's what I had to tell him is begging behind my angry fronts: all these anxious fears–
"Are you really here for me? Do you really care? Can I really depend on you?"
Under everything, that's what we're all terrified of: being left and abandoned. We're all desperate for connection and God made us for communion, for koinonia.
And whether I'm frustrated that he didn't take the garbage out or bring the mail in or hang his coat up, whether this is about paying attention or spending money or investing in kids or budgeting time — no matter what words, or volume or tone I use, what my words are stammering to say,
"Can I really count on you? Are we connected? Do I matter to you? Will you love me? "
Please — just hold me tight.
We are always the child.
I didn't know the research said it, but my heart already knew it: Falling in love again isn't so much about communicating better, but about connecting deeper.
Poor communication doesn't disconnect souls — it's the disconnected souls who poorly communicate. When we're well attached, we communicate well and when we aren't fully communicating it's because we don't feel connected.
No matter our age, it never stops, this need to feel securely attached, and messy marriages can be because of attachment disorders. That's what good relationships are: safe havens in the world, this base that makes us brave to venture out into the world — and safe to come home.
That's what He made love to be: for love to bear all things. "Bears," it's stego in the Greek — "a thatch roof."
Love bears all things — love literally becomes a thatch roof.
That's what real love always is: I become a roof for you, a wing for you, a shelter in your storm.
Come to me. Count on me to hold you.
I had once choked it out in this wild desperation: "Are women really like ambulances? When we are most in need of tender care, we're these screaming sirens? And that's why men pull far away — getting out of the way and off the road?"
He had looked over at me. Looked into me. For a moment, we'd stood there, searching each other — waiting for someone to open a door and be a roof. "Can I count on you? Do I matter to you?"
He'd shook his head, chuckled softly — and reached over, grabbed my hand and pulled me right into him.
"So when you're angry — it's really this alarm? That you need care?" He tilts my chin. What if God bound us together — to help us bind up each others wounds?
I nod slowly.
"And what you really need is ER — an emotional response?" He leans his forehead against mine.
I close my eyes.
In this dark, I'm the wild fool who is safe.
And I nod and he holds me tight, his arms enfolding, these trusses all around, and together we stand under this expanse of love, fears flung far away ...
::
::
5 Ways to Fight through to Love:
1. You don't need honed communication skills —
As much as the will to connect hearts.
2. Get to the tender wounded question behind every fight:
"Can I depend on you? Do my feelings matter to you? How do you care about me? Hold me?"
3. In the anxiety that's masking as anger, don't up the ante
Don't up the ante with name-calling, labels or threats of the D word (divorce).
Critical language can register in the brain as the same area as physical pain — which leaves your spouse dealing with their own pain, instead of caring for you in yours.
4. Be your spouse's ER:
Emotionally Respond. Listen to the cries of fear behind the fighting. Hear anger as a cry for attachment, this call for connection. Have the courage in the midst of the heat to tenderly reach out and touch the bruised places. Reassure that you'll always be there, that you care, that you're in this together.
5. Hold each other close and long...
Love bears all things. Be a roof, a wing, a shelter in the storm.
::::::::
Related:
How to {make} Love {into a marriage}
5 Secrets to Make a Marriage Last
The 4 Minute Marriage Habit : How to fall in Love All Over Again
~ Ann Voskamp.... from one struggling heart to yours...
Q4U: If you could ask anything at all about how to make a marriage work — what would you ask?
What's the hardest thing you've worked through in your marriage?
What's one thing you'd tell newlyweds now that you've learned the hard way?
How are you forging through to love right now? How can we pray for you today in your marriage?
:angel:
Lovingkindness Poured Down
Feb 10, 2012 12:20 am | Jacque Watkins
Sometimes waking to sweet and kind words, sets the pace for the whole day.
And I awake to the chime of a 6:04 am text:
"I am praying for you to have a wonderful day! Enjoy the rain!!"
And my heart smiles as I sink back into my pillow, cherishing the quiet morning minutes of stillness and reflection.
And sometimes the kindness of a friend overwhelms.
The rain poured down and the streets were wet, as I drove to the grocery store and back. And on my way home, with Sandi-Patty-hymns serenely playing, my thoughts raced with all I still had to accomplish in this day.
The windshield intersected the raindrops, and the wipers cleared their remnants away, in a steady and rhythmic strumming sound. And amidst their mesmerizing cadence, my thoughts continued on. With self-doubts escalating and deep-questioning fears rising–even when a heart is filled with overwhelmed-ness ...
Sometimes the kindness of a friend overwhelms.
I bolted out the car door in the drizzling rain to get the mail, and little did I know, that the cold metal mailbox held a priceless gift–a treasure.
A treasure that's rare amidst these cyber-heavy and social-media-ridden days–to receive the gift of hand-written words on a page ... words scrolled down with the intent of a heart, and the effort of a human hand.
And my eyes almost couldn't believe what I held. A notecard, hand-addressed to me! And I rushed to open it, quickly tearing the envelope with my eagerness and excitement.
This timely word had dropped out of nowhere, and in the seat of my car
with the rain pattering down, her words poured down like rain on my parched and cracked soul ... soaking in deep. And they brought the rain of my flowing tears, straight.on.down.
This, such a wet day, in so many wonderful ways–this refreshing wetness, all of it wonderfully pouring down.
And I am moved by the kindness and overwhelmed by the thoughts, and like the morning text had hoped for me...I AM enjoying the rain.
I unloaded the groceries and put them away, and my phone suddenly chimed with another random text:
"Hi jacque have a wonderful day XOXO"
And I sat, and I paused, and my heart was SO saturated from the goodness of it all.
And this wet day is His gift to me, straight from His heart–from my ABBA to me.
For a long time, He alone has known what we've talked about in our times together. How I've been floundering ... wondering ... where is my place? Do I really have friends? Does what I say, or do, really matter? And He had sent His nourishing and reviving rained-down water to me this day, through the faithfulness and kindness of these friends who know His heart well. They responded to His promptings, becoming His hands and feet to me, and bringing me the affirming whispered message of His Father heart...
You, my child are loved,
And you matter,
And I have great things in store for you.
And the lovingkindness of our God overwhelms.
And I stand amazed at how he orchestrates the affirmations. I revel in how very much He cares about the little things of our hearts. And I'm in awe how He uses those who are His, to be His hands and feet.
The lovingkindness of our God and of sweet friends, has rained on me today–lovingkindness POURED down, and I am overwhelmed and saturated by its goodness.
May you and I listen in close, to the whispers of His promptings, so that we may be used as His rain of lovingkindness upon one another, is my prayer.
How have you been overwhelmed with the kindness of a friend?
By Jacque Watkins, Mercy Found Me
:angel:
Fragile
Feb 10, 2012 Robin Dance
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word,
a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring,
all of which have the potential
to turn a life around."
Leo Buscaglia
Recently I admitted having thin skin.
On one hand I am Steel Magnolia, resilient and strong and confident. But the tiniest of daggers can pierce skin's shield and impale my heart. Pieces shatter, blood flows, wounds seep. In that moment I take my eyes off Christ and I forget who I am.
No...I forget Whose I am.
Our hearts are fragile, aren't they? God gave us new hearts, hearts of flesh to replace the stony hearts we had before we met Him; a place His spirit could reside, so Christ could live in and through us.
I searched the word "heart" on Biblegateway and it returned 805 verses (NASB). This leaves little doubt to the heart's importance based on Scripture's pure repetition alone. Many were familiar references to the hardening of the heart and to its evil inclination, but also your heart:
is an indicator of what you value. (Matthew 6:21)
can be jealous and selfish (James 3:14)
reflects what you think and believe (Matthew 12:34)
empowers us to do the will of God (Ephesians 6:6)
holds memory and affection (Luke 2:19)
grieves (Romans 9:2)
must be guarded (Luke 21:34)
may be encouraged (Colossians 2:2)
rejoices (John 16:22)
is known by God (Acts 15:8)
is cleansed by faith (Acts 15:9)
can be broken by the actions or words of others (Acts 21:31)
(and this is just a sampling of the more exhaustive list I'm pondering...!)
But how can we know if we don't read His word? And how can we hear ~ truly hear ~ if we're reading out of compulsion or obligation?
With the turn of a new year, many of us claimed a word (or received them as a God-gift) as a banner for these 366 days in 2012. As much as I'm anticipating adventure, though...a question dogged me leading up to the new year–
What if on 12/31/12, I had spent the 365 days leading up to it reading Scripture daily, devotionally...passionately...relationally...?
Less than two months into daily reading, I'm better at the "daily" part of that question than the descriptors that come after; regardless, here's the remarkable discovery:
What once would have splintered my heart is now seen through Spirit eyes.
Though I might still feel the impact of pointy daggers, their sting is softened by considering how God might be using each circumstance to
renew my mind and transform my heart (Romans 12:2)
and
consider others more highly than I do myself. (Philippians 2:3)
If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men. ~ Romans 12:18
There have been several instances recently where I've been hurt by the words or actions of others. My earnest desire has been to restore relationship, to seek peace above my need to be right, to love when I didn't even like, to honor the Lord with my actions. I've recognized changes God wanted to accomplish in my life by shedding light on hard truths delivered by the mouths of others; I've also had compassion where I could have easily harbored bitterness, understanding that sometimes harsh words are a result of the other party speaking from a wounded position–
Evidences of renewed mind and transformed heart!
This pursuit to know God more intimately ~ devotionally, passionately, relationally ~ is driving me to know him more intimately! Does this make sense? As I see myself changing and responding differently, my faith is growing, joy is rising, hope is strengthened..even for this child who doubts!
Thinking back on Buscaglia's quote at the beginning of this post, I can see where it's not just about reacting differently to the things that break my heart; it's seeking out those who are hurting and then ministering Small Graces:
a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear,
an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring...
Once again, God's mysterious ways confound me!
A broken heart, though painful, isn't bad.
In fact, He desires contrition, a broken spirit. Maybe it is only in our brokenness and desperation that we're willing and able to surrender in order to be renewed and changed.
Has your heart been wounded and broken by others? Are you yet able to see how God is using this (ultimately) for your good and His glory? Tell me your stories, lovies–I want to celebrate your renewal and transformation; let us pray for you to have wisdom and spiritual insight to see ALL God has for YOU if you aren't yet beyond the pain.
You...are...loved.
: : : : : : : : : :
By Robin Dance, All-American girl, now living as an Ex-pat in Germany.
: : : : : : : :
:angel:
One Word Is All It Takes {God's Love Notes}
Feb 11, 2012 Bonnie Gray
Do you remember a first love letter?
I remember mine.
I still remember the first time he emailed me.
He. emailed. me.
My throat gasped in disbelief as my head swam off to sea. My heart was standing in front of cheering thousands, I was so nervously euphoric. I was the victor, having captured someone's heart.
Were these words written about me?
I'd read and re-read. If the day got tedious, you would've never guessed it. I could recall how a sentence wrapped around, where a comma was placed, with photographic memory like never before.
All the Dear Jane letters that littered my past disappeared in that moment.
It takes take many words to bring joy in the language of love.
There are so many words that we consume in a day. The ones we speak as parents, co-worker, managers and workers. We wade through emails, entertainment news, tweets, Facebook messages, not to mention newsletters, bills and spam.
The year's just started and our world floods us with sales, specials, diets, programs and resolutions.
But, just one word from God is all it takes.
To give us joy.
To give us rest.
If we really believed God wrote us love letters, we'd carry them like notes in a bobbing bottle in our desert island of stress.
I'm wanting joy this year and it's the kind that can only be found in being loved. Without faith, it is impossible to believe what we're craving is really what God is offering. Faith is the one choice we have for joy.
Let's take out that shoe box and start dusting off those love letters. Read them fresh and keep our eyes open. We've got some of God's love letters coming our way.
God's Love Notes (GLN)
When your days feel weary with words that overwhelm you about your worth, look for God's Love Notes.
Here are some I've tucked away, that I'd like to share.
1. My Regrets.
I will make up for opportunities you think you've lost. You can trust I have something worth the trade of your heart.
"Then I will make up to you for the years that the locust has eaten." Joel 2:25
2. My best efforts are nothing compared to my failures.
Don't despise small beginnings. You are big in my eyes. Your heart is more valuable to me than the results of your efforts. Don't be afraid. I will never give up on you. Don't give up on me.
"Who despises the day of small things?" Zech 4:10
"My Spirit remains among you; do not fear. I will fill this temple with glory. .. The glory of this latter temple (our imperfect selves) shall be greater than the former (self-made lives)." Haggai 2:4,5, 8,9
3. My Negative Traits/Mistakes prove I'm not fruitful. I'm a failure.
You can't do this. That's why I'm here. You are not a failure. Growing takes time. One day, you'll have no idea how it happened, but you'll be surprised my words have an effect on you.
"This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows, though he does not know how. All by itself , the soil produces grain." Mark 1:26-29″
Your words were found and I ate them, And Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart; For I have been called by Your name, O LORD God of hosts.
~~~~~
Share a verse or one word you've received from God with us.
Pull up a chair. Let's swap God's love notes. Click here to comment.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie and the community as they explore Love Unwrapped Series in February on Faith Barista.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture: What Love Is
Feb 12, 2012 incourage
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
1 Corinthians 13:4-7
:angel:
You Are Loved
God's love is different from ours.
God doesn't just give love - He is love.
We are experts at earning the affections of friends, lovers, children, and our families. Coming face-to-face with a God who loves us unconditionally sets us off balance. It's much easier to believe, "If I go to church and read my Bible, God will love me." That makes us feel safe because it seems we can control God's love. It's scary to believe in God's unconditional love.
What if it's not true? Then the deepest desire of our hearts can never be a reality. We watch Cinderella and the prince then hope for our own version of living happily ever after. But life disappoints us, and God is our last chance to be fully, deeply loved. So we do everything possible to please Him because even though we've endured many rejections, His would be unbearable.
But God is whispering the words to our hearts we long to hear if only we can dare to believe them: "You are loved deeply, truly, always." That's the kind of crazy love that sets us free forever. God invites us to take His hand, trust His heart, and believe that the love we've been searching for all our lives is the love we've already found.
--Devotional excerpt by Holley Gerth, from her book God's Heart for You: Embracing Your True Worth as a Woman.
For more hope and encouragement, visit Heart to Heart with Holley and subscribe by email there to receive her free
:angel:
From My Heart to Yours
You're loved-
not just a little, but a lot...
not just on this day, but always...
not just by God, but others too...
(me, for example)
Happy Valentine's Day
from my heart to yours.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God.
I John 4:16 NIV
:angel:
Last Minute Valentine's Day Traditions & Ideas
Jennifer Schmidt
(DIY Iced Coffee)
Often, the fondest childhood memories stem from family traditions that are lovingly repeated throughout the years. Growing up, my family tapestry wove a rich heritage colored with traditions. Family traditions, some intentionally designed with an emphasis on spiritual development, while others planned purely for crazy moments of fun, create a sense of identity and belonging. I always refer to traditions as the "We all" of family. In our unpredictable, busy schedules there are always certain things that family members can count on. Those traditions were, and still are, the "We all" of our family.
"We always" go to the Christmas tree farm on Black Friday. We always have devotions on the beach during our family reunion.
We always serve breakfast in bed on birthday blessing days
"We always" do this....(you fill in the blank).
Throughout scripture there are continual reminders and examples of feasts, fellowship, and celebrations. Times of remembrances occurred over and over - traditions.
When most of us think on this subject, we list traditions that have been established around Thanksgiving or Christmas, but we've never thought to give each month a memory moment of its own. The power of purposeful traditions stem throughout the entire year, not just a few holidays. Once a month memory moments have power when family identity is woven throughout the ordinary, making them extraordinary. When a level of significance is added to the ordinary repetition of life, a tradition is created.
If you haven't already established some creative "We all" Valentine's Day traditions, why not start one this year?
When we savor the small things, our lifestyle embraces the sentiment that the "little things are the big things", and they don't have to cost a penny. Here are just a few inexpensive ways you can start a special Valentine's Day tradition with your family.
Even though Valentine's Day falls on a week day, there are still some quick and easy ways to make breakfast extra special. Spend an Start the day with these special Valentine's Day Love Muffins.
Write little notes of affection, or scriptures to encourage, on red and pink construction paper. While the muffins are baking, fold the love notes in half, and attach a ribbon to the top of each message. When the muffins are done baking, insert your special love notes into the tops of the muffins, leaving the ribbons exposed.
Use your own muffin recipe, a store bought one or use my "semi-homemade" Sour Cream Banana Cake recipe that whips up in minutes. The recipe is not important, it's the combined nourishment of both tummy and soul that's key.
2. Engage the power of encouraging words with the Ten Things I Love about you free printable cards. Tomorrow, have fun hiding these in creative places. Tuck them in a lunch bag, under a pillow, in a briefcase, underwear drawer or maybe even the cookie jar?
3. One of our children's favorite traditions has been our Treasure Hunt of Love. I have varied this idea for different holidays, and it's always been a favorite.
Make this treasure hunt reflect your family's personality. With a mixture of scripture, clues, and silly verses, this can be as simple or elaborate as you choose. Read more about it here: Valentine's Day Treasure Hunt of Love.
4. For the rest of the month, continue on with the Hearts of Loving Kindness Tradition. During February, our family's character/virtue is kindness. By tying the learning of a virtue with a fun tradition, it engages the children's hearts and encourages them to go "above and beyond" in their serving of others.
Phew, I am just getting started, and could share many more ideas, but hopefully that sparked your creative juices.
I am a tradition gatherer, so even though I have tons of tradition ideas on my blog for every holiday and celebration, I always enjoy trying something new.
Please share any plans or ideas you have for making Valentine's Day extra special.
I'd love to hear them.
P.S. Honestly, my family is getting their Love Muffins tomorrow, but then I am giving them a rain check until Saturday. We have to be out the door early, and will not get home until well after dinner. I've realized that I can't be a slave to my traditions or "thee day," and often, flexibility brings freedom. :)
Shared by Jen, a lover of traditions, who is in constant pursuit of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam.
:angel:
Love to the Next Level
Rachel Wojnarowski
Some days the Mama in us is a wee tired and the time for naps is gloriously anticipated. While the workload of being the CHFO (Chief Home and Family Officer) doesn't diminish during this little afternoon break, the hope is that Mom will work without tiny bodies under toe and in a few moments of revitalizing peace, IF the household cooperates.
On one particular day recently, my Tarah had finished all her pre-nap reading requests and as she climbed on the bed, I noticed a little detail that for some unknown reason, I had previously overlooked. Sweet " T" wasn't content to lie on top of the covers for nap like her older siblings previously did in past years. She didn't want to sleep with her head on top of the pillow, draping the blankie over her precious little frame.
Toddler "T" wanted to have those covers of the bed pulled back!
Enjoying the feeling of snuggling into the blanket, face nestled against the soft pillow, she smiled at me and stretched the covers up to her chin. At the ripe age of 2, she knew exactly how she wanted to sleep. A sign seemed to hang over her headboard that read:
If you're going to nap, nap all the way.
As I closed the bedroom door halfway and headed off to the Central Domestic Sub Office, AKA the laundry room, my thoughts turned towards this verse:
So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. I Corinthians 10:31
Sometimes the long term investment of caring can get a little scary.
And loving people? That's sheer work!
But if the mind of Christ is operating through us in totality, lying "on top of the bed with a thin spread of Bible verses" won't cut it. As Christians, our heart and mind must be fully engaged in His Word and totally immersed in His presence.
Begging His Spirit to work through us.
Listening to His voice whisper affirmation to our hearts.
John 3:16
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have eternal life.
If you're going to love someone, love them all the way.
By Rachel Wojnarowski, Faith.Family.Fun.
:angel:
Be Brave {and a Giveaway!}
Feb 13, 2012 12:10 am | Julie Hunt
I decided it was time.
After several years of ambivalence about adding a dog to our already full, chaotic household, it was time. My husband had been willing for years, but I was too overwhelmed with all of the "dependents" in my house, and there was a discrepancy about the desire for a dog amongst my children. But my son was turning 10 and it seemed like the right gift to give him at this milestone birthday. I also finally accepted my husband's advice that the best way for our 7-year-old daughter's intense terror of dogs to be eradicated, was having a dog of our own.
This seemed like an enormous risk.
Her fear was tremendous. I mean, before nearing a house, she would always think to ask, "Do they have a dog, Mom?" If they did, she would scale my body like it was a ladder, in order to be safe from the barking, licking, jumping, unknown creature on the other side of the door.
So, when we brought home Scout, our adopted 5-year-old Golden Retriever, it was a big day – for us all – in good ways and risky ways. Our sign in the hall, which has ever-changing words of challenge/inspiration for our family was changed to "Be Brave" that week. Thankfully, Scout has a gentle, laid-back disposition and is very loving and kind.
For the first six days that Scout lived at our home, Lainey would cautiously move about the house. She liked him. She was intrigued by him. She wanted to pet him and even brush him, if he was perched on his "allowed" spot on the loveseat.
But she remained reluctant to approach him.
She needed to know where he was at all times but began to see that he is not a licker, or a biter, or a jumper. She began to learn his temperament and how to interact with him.
I could see her trusting him a bit more.
One day she proclaimed, "I've decided to try to not be afraid of him anymore!" With that matter-of-fact statement, my husband and I looked at each other with a curious look and said, "Great"!? We were expectant and curious as to how this was going to work.
And it did.
She walked in from school that day and called for Scout, who came trotting down the hall towards her. With a giggle, she dropped her bags and petted him, grabbed his long, red leash off of the coat rack by the door and said, "I'll take him on a walk!" We were stunned and thrilled. And she did it. She took a risk. She dove in. She "tried not being afraid" and it fit!
In our shock, we made comments to her in the coming days about how excited and proud we were of her. I found myself telling her how brave she was with every new "risk" she was taking with him. A couple of days into this she said, "Mom, will you please stop calling me brave?" I was taken aback. "What do you mean? You are brave! I am so proud of you!" I replied. She said, "I don't want to be brave. I am NOT brave anymore. I am NORMAL! I am just Lainey."
And I got it.
She didn't want to be "exceptionally brave" for not being afraid of her own dog. Most children she knows love animals and are not afraid. She was ready for this to be her "new self."
In Relate, I ask participants to consider how they are in relationships: Are they isolated? Do they play it safe? Are they in conflicted relationships? Or are they happy with the health of their relationships? I think about Lainey, and her fear of the unknown, and how paralyzing it was to her. When she was able to test the waters and see for herself the "safety" of Scout, she was able to dive in and take a risk. And she is now delighting in this newfound friendship.
So, I wonder how many of us fear relationships? We seek to play it safe. We run from places where vulnerability and risk are likely to be required. (I tell Lainey that caution and healthy fear of animals is wise! We must not walk up to stranger-dogs and reach towards them without knowledge of what we're approaching.) Likewise, we are wise to test the waters and get to know someone before giving ourselves fully to them. However, once we've discerned the safety of the relationship, we need courage to "try to not be afraid" and see what rewards and joys are found in deep, transparent, invested relationships. And who knows...it might not even feel like bravery after awhile.
***
GIVEAWAY!
So, how are you in relationships, are you isolated? Do you play it safe? Are you in conflicted relationships? Or are you happy with the health of your relationships?
We'll choose FIVE commenters to win a copy of Relate.
{Learn more about Relate: Knowing, Loving, and Forgiving the People in Your Life here}
By Julie, Cup-a Cup-a
:angel:
Daddy's Gifts
Feb 14, 2012 Dawn Camp
During my childhood, my mom did most of the shopping for Christmas presents. She was a practical shopper, buying mostly clothes and necessary items. One mid-December day each year, however, my dad made the yearly excursion to shop for "his" gift.
Daddy's presents weren't practical. They were of the fun, frivolous, open-me-last variety. The anticipation began on the shopping day and built until the much-anticipated opening of the gift. Looking back, my sister and I both recall our favorite as the year of the boom boxes (CD player just doesn't have the same flair as boom box, does it?).
It wasn't just the presents that were memorable. Knowing that my dad took the time and effort to seek out something special each year—that one item destined to become my favorite—well, that was every bit as meaningful as the gift itself.
Actually, it's that feeling of being loved and treasured that I remember most.
Now I like searching for gifts to make my daddy happy, like this mug in honor of my his prized Mustang convertible that I drove in high school.
What about you? What is the most treasured or memorable gift you've received or given?
If you are reviewing a DaySpring Gift Collection this month, link up your review below!
:angel:
Forever Loved
Feb 14, 2012 Angela Nazworth
When my daughter was about four-years-old, she bounced over to me with a hug and a serious-question.
"Mommy, do you know when I'm never going to love you?" (Translation for those of you who may not speak Childrenese: "Do you know when I'm going to stop loving you?")
I smiled and looked down into her large, acorn-shaped eyes, "When?"
With an affirming giggle she replied, "NEVER! I'm just going to love you, and love you, and love you forever!"
Oh how those simple words rejuvenated my heart. After swooping her up into my arms for a shower of kisses, I thought about the eternal love God has for me ... for all of His children. The hours He has spent loving me far out number the hours I've lived on this earth.
In my life time, He has destroyed walls that jailed me, unlocked the shackles that immobilized me, and loosened the blindfold that concealed light from my eyes. He has given me armor to shield me from my enemies and hope to restrain my doubt. Every offense I have ever committed has been blanketed with His forgiveness. I am often ungrateful, yet still He loves me. I have nothing to offer Him that is not already His, yet still, He loves me. I am unworthy, yet still, He loves me.
Do you know when He's "never going to love me?" Never. He's going to love me, and love, and love me forever! Nothing fills my heart as full as that beautiful truth.
"For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing will have the power to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord!" Romans 8:38-39 Holman Christian Standard Bible
Angela Nazworth writes more about God's unfailing love at Womb-Woven.
:angel:
A Heart To Serve
There was this heart so tender.... So eager to serve , give, love and worship.
There was a young woman, a wife, a mom – with this heart so tender.
She was given much responsibility. She found new friends. She loved her family, she loved her Savior, and she loved Serving.
Many years go by. She is still married, still having children, and still serving.
Until... the years that have gone by... with the hurt word, the criticism, the man-made rules, and the friend-ships that walked away- were still there... In her heart... hurting.
What's a girl to do?
Her life of service for her King, now dragging along the baggage of hurt, fear of man, and somewhat anger at the Pharisees that pointed their fingers and said... "You are not good enough for us anymore!"
What's a hurting heart to do?
HEAL...
Let Jesus heal... that broken heart.
Let Jesus take the painful criticism.. The pointing fingers, the critical spirits, and the anger... and let HIM take it away.
He is the only ONE who can!
One by one... that girl allowed the sin of worry, doubt, anger, and fear creep into her Life of Service...
Because of Man. Man-made rules, ideas, and opinions.
When Service becomes a battle of baggage, unclaimed by the one who is carrying it...
It is to be cast at the Savior's Feet.
He never meant for the Love of the young woman for His Name, and her love, and desire to serve .....To turn into a burden that breaks her heart.
Reprieve – Step Back. Rest. Heal. See the vision clearly again.
Let The ONE you serve- Reclaim you, for HIM again.
And when the heart is healed – it will overflow with an abundance of love, understanding, and energy for the Girl that she use to be- serving next door.
Jesus Heals Broken Hearts- mended for His Service- again and again. He healed mine.
By September McCarthy- Embracing Life and Motherhood at One September Day
:angel:
Holding Loosely {And a Giveaway}
In relationships, I have found that we really must find the important balance between holding on tight and letting go. As individuals, we often tend towards one extreme or the other, depending on our personalities, family history and disposition. There are dangers inherent in each of these approaches.
When we hold tightly in relationships, we might very well have a grip on the person, in that we are not going to lose them. But, there is a risk in holding tightly. We just might choke, smother, or suffocate them.
In contrast, if we take the posture of letting go, we will not be as intrusive or harsh as when we are holding tightly. We might easily lose the thing we are holding, and communicate a lacksidasical spirit.
It is risky.
Imagine a delicate, colorful butterfly flitting around your yard and lighting on your hand. How would you hold it? If you held your hands completely open, palms flat, chances are it would fly away. In contrast imagine if you squeezed your hands together and held on tightly, in fear of losing her. It might crush her.
But what if you cupped your hands, to where they created a safe, enclosed, yet spacious place for her to be?
When I was in college, my wise friend, Jen, was counseling me, as I was brokenhearted. I had been misled by a boy and was emotionally wrought. She encouraged me to "hold loosely" to this relationship. She gave me the gift of this metaphor and I have carried the wisdom from that moment with me for two decades.
Holding loosely is the balance between holding tightly and letting go.
It's not losing a hold, and relinquishing, like letting go, but it's not the gripping, desperate feeling of holding tightly. The posture of holding loosely communicates: "I am here, I want to be with you, I am holding onto you. However, my hands are gently holding, with as much space as I can create for you to breath and move,"
This holding loosely corresponds with Jesus' command to "love your neighbor as yourself". How do I want to be held in relationships? Possessively clutched in a way that can crush me? No. Or, conversely – open handed with no hold or security offered or effort exerted? No. Rather, I want to be held in the gentle hold of a loving, open, spacious space of a caring other. There I find love and security and yet room to breath and become my truest self. Within this posture, we love our neighbor as ourselves.
This principle has been applicable in all of my relationships: with family, and girlfriends, children and co-workers, even with my husband and children. We all desire to be known, loved, cherished, understood and not forgotten. And we all want to find grace, openness, and freedom. We want to be our truest, best selves. We often become that within the context of healthy relationships.
GIVEAWAY! Consider your current posture in your relationships. Are you holding loosely to those you love?
We'll choose FIVE commenters to win a copy of Relate.
{Learn more about Relate: Knowing, Loving, and Forgiving the People in Your Life here}
By Julie, Cup-a Cup-a
:angel:
Community: Moving into the Neighborhood
Feb 15, 2012 12:10 am | Sarah Markley
I've visited lots of places, but I've never lived in Paris or London. I've walked through the Louvre and through the British Museum, but I've have not made either city my home.
I've been to Washington DC, and in fact, besides Los Angeles which is in my back yard, DC might be the city in the U.S. that I've visited most frequently. But I have never lived in the city. The Library of Congress: love it. Georgetown Cupcakes: to die for but get there early. Tourist attractions by the armload in all different seasons: in February it was too cold to walk on the Mall and in July it was too humid to walk in the same place. I've been to DC. But even so, I've never made it my home.
They say that until you live in a city for 2 years or 4 years or more you don't really KNOW it. You can't really get to know the people, the good and the bad restaurants, the vibe, or the essence of a place until you've walked in, set down your luggage, and unpacked it. Instead of bringing your reading material from home, you get a local library card. Instead of dropping by the take out place for dinner, you buy ingredients to make a meal. Instead of seeing only the museums and cathedrals, you visit the parks, the Tuesday night summer festivals and the concerts-on-the-green. You live like a local.
We can't really experience a place until we do a couple things: intend to stay and then actually stay.
I think communities are like this too.
We've been talking this month on (in)courage about what it means to be a part of a community, what it means to be engulfed by sisters and what it looks like to have friends. There has been both pain and joy with friendships, and we've all certainly had different experiences in Christian communities like churches and in public communities like schools and neighborhoods. On the surface the idea of community seems easy, like making friends in Kindergarten. But we all know that really feeling a part of a community is something hard-won. Nothing about it is simple.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
And I would argue, "a time to go and a time to stay put." A time to stay awhile. A time to dig in. A time to set down your suitcase and unpack your favorite chotchkies.
We aren't always meant to stick through a hard thing. That was the biggest issue for me when we decided to change churches over 18 months ago. "Do I dig in and stay through this difficult thing even though I'm dying inside? Or is God telling us it's time to leave? We have 'stayed put' for 12 years; maybe it's time to turn the page."
After much prayer and heartache, we decided that it was time to go.
But sometimes we are supposed to stay. If we want to experience real community, we have to make both an intention to stay put and then actually do it.
Joining a new church or a new community is like moving to a new city: At first everything is foreign, everything is strange and nothing feels like home. But after awhile, after a year or two, things begin to become normal. We know what time the bus passes the corner, we know what day the trash trucks rumble down the street at 5 AM and we know whose face it is that will greet us at our new favorite restaurant.
We often leave at the first sign of discomfort or loneliness. We say, but no one knows me! No one understands me! I feel so alone.
What I'm learning about community is that in order to experience it in the way that I believe we were created to, part of it is simply staying awhile. The only way to really become known, to become "with", and to become understood is to stay put and moving into the neighborhood.
By Sarah Markley who is working on the concept of kicking off her shoes and staying awhile.
Do you have trouble staying put? Have you found that some of community is just being there for awhile? What is the hardest/easiest things about a new neighborhood or a new community?
:angel:
When A Comment Breaks Your Heart
Annie Downs
Last month, a few of us wrote about our plans for 2012, especially as it pertains to being single. I read every single comment and this one.... well. You'll see.
Hi, while I appreciate your desire for single women to be encouraged to live differently and sharing principles we all should live by....why doesn't anyone ever validate that being single in your 30s can seriously break your heart everyday. ... I don' t know if there are others out there like me who dreamed of and planned for nothing more than serving beside a husband serving in ministry, raising a godly family and serving those around us, who are just left heartbroken and disappointed and stuck in a life they never wanted, but if there are I wish that someone would write about how to trust God and hope again in the midst of your heart being shattered by unfulfilled dreams and lifeplans that doesn't start with being grateful for things we don't have.
I will write about it.
You want to know why I haven't written about being single for the last ten years that I've been writing? Because it can be awful and confusing and the kind of pain that is hard to describe with words.
It's a deep hurt. And it raises a lot of questions.
Why won't anyone pick me?
What's wrong with me?
Am I doing something wrong?
Am I too ugly? Fat? Skinny? Tall? Smart? Dumb? Short?
Why does God give her a husband and not me?
Why does God answer my other prayers but not this one?
Will I die alone?
And to tell the truth, there are probably fifty more questions. Those are just the ones that I can spout off the top of my head.
So JJ the commenter, your emotions are valid. Way valid. They are real and I get it.
I bet a lot of women do.
The day before I turned 28, I couldn't get out of bed. I have never been that sad before. But on that day, July 6, 2008, I was absolutely unequivocally heartbroken. I rolled over, grabbed my computer from the floor and wept as I emailed my two best friends.
I don't remember the whole email and to be honest, I'm not going to search through my archives. I don't want to read it again. But I remember one very dramatic line- "I can't do this another day."
You want me to get ugly honest about what it can be like to be a single Christian woman?
Sometimes, you don't think you can do another day.
[But I did do it another day. I've done it for approximately 1300 more days.]
I know. There are worse things in the world. I get it- being single is nothing compared to other heartbreaks in life, but it is a heartbreak nonetheless.
Because it goes deeper than being alone at the dinner table or in the bed. If you're a Christian and being a wife is something you have longed and prayed for, having that desire unmet can get super personal between you and God.
It changes from an unmet desire to an unanswered prayer. And no matter what Garth Brooks says, sometimes it does not feel possible to thank God for unanswered prayers.
So how do we trust God, and I mean REALLY trust God, even when these emotions are real and true and living just right below the surface?
I don't totally know.
I know that single women deal with this. But I bet married women do too. We all have things we've dreamed for and longed for and not received when we wanted them.
So as unconventional as this is, and as much as we all wish I'd finish this with a list of behaviors that lead to trusting and contentment, I'm not going to do that.
We are a community here at (in)courage. We care for each other. So I'm going to let y'all care for JJ and for me and for each other.
So let's answer that question...
How can I trust God and hope again in the midst of my heart being shattered by unfulfilled dreams and life plans?
Help, y'all. Help.
:angel:
Relationships: The Schoolhouse of Christ-likeness.
Julie Hunt
I remember a distinct moment several years ago, when I was meditating on the bold verse – Philippians 3:10, where Paul claims, "I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him even unto death". It is such a beautiful, powerful, momentous verse. I thought, "Yes! I want this! I do"! And then I asked myself, "Really?? Do I really want this? What do I most want, truly?" Humbled, I had to admit that what I really want is comfort and ease! If you are real with yourself you probably do too. I find myself wishing for this and feeling discontent when things are painful and difficult.
I want to have a beautiful home, without having to stress out all the time over it. I want to exhibit joy and peace and love and gentleness in my life without having to deal with difficult, draining, disappointing circumstances and people. I want to be fit and healthy and beautiful without much effort. I want people to like me, and serve me, and to serve them. I want my kids to be perfectly behaved while I sit on the porch and read a book. I realize that there is incongruence between what I really want, in my heart of hearts, and what I want on a daily, gut level.
I want to be Christ-like. However, I am realizing that being LIKE Him involves struggle, and discomfort and the vulnerability of relationships. And relationships require work and commitment, humility and yielding. They oftentimes require sacrifice, disappointment and inconvenience! Stephanie Paulsell, in On Our Way, writes about relationships being the classroom for our sanctification. She states, "friendship teaches us to care about another's pain, another's joy...our friends help us to be ourselves, but they also help us to be more than we knew ourselves to be." So, if indeed relationships are where we become like Christ, then we ought to make them a great priority!
How can we learn humility, except in the context of relationships?
How can we learn gentleness, patience, kindness, faithfulness, except in relation to people?
How can we live lives of service, or generosity, if not through relationships?
So, if you truly can say you want to know Christ, and want to follow Him and grow in your likeness of Him, relationships are a requirement! I am realizing that they are the school-house for godliness.
GIVEAWAY! Fill in the blank: One thing I'm learning through friendship is ________________.
We'll choose FIVE commenters to win a copy of Relate.
{Learn more about Relate: Knowing, Loving, and Forgiving the People in Your Life here}
By Julie, Cup-a Cup-a
:angel:
How's Your Reach?
Barbie Swihart
In our fast-paced world, we are always reaching for something.
Reaching for significance.
Reaching for success.
Reaching for position.
Reaching for love.
All of these things are good. But I have found myself asking this question: Am I reaching for the One who can give me everything that I desire?
I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. (Philippians 3:12 Message)
I go through seasons in my life where I become comfortable with the current state of my heart, comfortable with where I have "arrived". And in those times, I forget to reach. I forget to lay hold of that which is yet to be. I forget to strive for the greater potential. When I find myself here in this place, I must call it for what it is — complacency.
Complacency: a feeling of smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one's achievements.
Uncritical satisfaction. It's not striving for the greater good, forgetting that God has so much more for me. Or maybe I just become lazy. It's too hard to reach. Too hard to pull on the potential of heaven and bring it into my own reality. In this place, I have become satisfied with my life — my family, my ministry, my relationships. I am literally wasting my life away, content to be where I am without going forward. As I curl up on the couch in my comfy sweats with my chocolate and coffee, I forget that God has called me for so much more than this. It is not His desire that I live to survive. He has called me to thrive. He has called me to live a life of abundance.
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. (John 10:10)
The enemy of our souls' purpose is that we would waste our lives away on those things that are of no eternal value. He does not desire that we walk in the abundant life that Christ paid for. Everywhere I look, people are wasting their lives away on something — careers, relationships, social media, hobbies. Although these things are good, they are only momentary pleasures. When we become content and satisfied with what we have, we forget to reach and ask God for more.
How is your reach? Are you pulling on heaven and asking God for the fullness of what He has for you today?
By Barbie at My Freshly Brewed Life.
:angel:
The Canopy
Feb 17, 2012 12:10 am | Stephanie Bryant
I was five. The furniture salesman asked my Dad 'How can I help you today. Looking for anything particular?'
My Dad grinned, motioned for the man's attention to head my direction and stepped back.
In my small hands were new bills, recently exchanged from quarters that were ear-marked for Pac-Man but were saved, birthday checks from Aunt Sue, and little tuck-ins that Meme made sure I had on the everyday-normal kind of days.
I unfolded the ad ripped from a magazine and carefully showed it to the man. He smiled and asked if that's what I was looking for.
{Was he kidding? This wasn't just what I was looking for, this white four-poster bed with hand painted flowers gracing the headboard, beautifully adorned with a gauzy canopy, had been my dream bed for over a year.}
This bed was the one that I had wanted, asked for, saved for. The bed that would be the centerpiece of future slumber parties and awkward phone calls with boys. The one that would console my tears prompted by a mean girl and prop me up while I studied for AP classes. This was THE bed and I knew it.
Fast forward more than 28 years and I still love that bed. It's traveled with me from my parents' house to my first home, to the storage shed after I married, and then after our last move, it sits in our garage next to my car.
I think I got attached since it was such major purchase at such a young age. One of the first dreams realized has a way of imprinting on a heart forever.
I convinced myself that someday I would give it to my daughter. But I'm sure that would be like a faded wedding dress that was worn 30 years before to a newly engaged bride-to-be. . . not exactly her taste.
The other morning as I was pulling into our garage, I glanced at the four posters sticking up over cardboard. It made me sad. For the first time I realized that it's purpose was being wasted. As silly as this might sound, I started to pray for God to show me what to do with this bed {plus desk, chair and small side table. My parents bought the rest of the set after I purchased the bed}.
Funny. . . how God prompts us with His Spirit about the smallest of small, the very things that we deem unimportant are sometimes the closest to our heart and hardest to do.
What you don't know is that this week I was praying "that I would imitate the Lord. As a result, becoming an example to all Christians. And that the word of the Lord would ring out to people everywhere, all over the world, because of my faith in God." {based on 1 Thess 1:6-8}
Just a day later, in our church bulletin, was a small announcement for a Furniture Loan Program to international students at our local university. I circled it and contacted Bill this morning.
I confess that I hoped that 'Loan Program' meant that I would get the bed back, maybe a little roughed up, but I would still have it. His email came back with the news that Jesus used. It's a gift, not a loan. Deep down I knew it would be. I must give the bed and all that goes with it to these students. . . and God will answer my simple, courageous prayer through it.
Funny how Jesus prompts us to pray. How He orchestrates timing and reasons that are beyond our imagination. How God can use the dream of a little girl and a canopy bed to reach the lost, teach true generosity, and fling His Word to the ends of the earth.
What are you holding on to, storing in your house or your soul, hoping you don't have to give?
Jesus gently nudges.
He will show you the clear signs and help you notice them when you don't want to. He will give you the courage to do the small so He can free you up to the do the sometimes bigger, for Him.
He will spread your canopy of faith to the ends of the earth and bring joy to your heart.
{Bill is coming on Saturday to pick up the bedroom set. I am weepy, mourning a bit of my childhood, and at the same time I am so thrilled that God will use it for His Kingdom. I pray the Chinese couple who arrive to the U.S. next week will sleep well, feel close to God and accept His free gift of salvation. I know in my bones that I'll meet this couple that sleeps under the canopy in Heaven someday.}
:angel:
Cold Coffee
Feb 18, 2012 12:30 am | Angie
Our coffee had been cold for 2 hours, and despite the fact that the waiter was ready for us to leave, we kept talking.
And talking.
And talking.
I missed the appointment I had scheduled for after the breakfast, and we went straight through lunch in the same chairs.
The entire time I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to say. What in the world was I supposed to say?
I didn't know her well enough to say anything definitive or gripping. In fact, I felt like I was just supposed to be a listener.Even as she went through the details, I found myself thinking the same thing she had been thinking only a few weeks ago.
This could never happen to me.
It had started as a business relationship, and ended with his clothes thrown on the front lawn. And what we were dealing with at that moment was the question of "what next?"
I didn't have the answer.
I teared up a few times, and I leaned across the table to let her know I was listening. Really listening. And I was. But I was also thinking.
If this happened to her, why not me?
My marriage has not been perfect. Far from it, honestly. I don't talk about our fights publicly, and I don't blog about things that I believe are private. For me, there is great good that can come of someone's hurt, but it doesn't always happen during the hurt. When Todd and I have had hard times (and we have had plenty), I didn't write about it, in fact, I stopped writing. It's not what everyone would choose in that situation, and there isn't a right or wrong. But it didn't feel like something that was enough in retrospect for me to speak to. I was in the middle of it. Are Todd and I separating? Absolutely not. Not ever. I love this man with everything I have to love. But good gracious, we are a mess sometimes.
And today, as I sat with a friend, I realized that it was more than a conversation. It was an awakening. My marriage is not perfect. There are days where it's not even great. And others where it's downright atrocious.
As I looked into eyes of hurt this morning, while patrons hustled in and out of the diner, I was spellbound by the circumstances of this story, and how eerily it mirrored mine. It was a phone conversation that led to an argument. It was dinner gone cold while she waited for him. It was one mis-interpreted, mis-construed, misunderstood comment after another, and it had turned into this. And who am I to think that it would never happen to me?
Let me clarify before the rumor mills start churning. I would tell you with absolute sincerity that Todd would chop off a limb before he would have an affair. Truthfully, it is nothing that I think about. I've never, never, never worried about it.
That wasn't what I was hearing from her though, and it rocked me deeply.
What am I cultivating? My marriage, or my platform?
My children, or my blog?
My home, or my credentials?
My heart, or my God's?
I'm not really wrapped up in any of those things. I am a really inconsistent blogger, I am still not very fond of speaking, and the whole "being in the public eye" is more torture than ego. Truth. Absolute truth.
But sometimes my calendar says different.
It isn't about an affair specifically, and I'm certainly not putting blame on her for her husband's decisions (please don't even think that for a second, because it is completely untrue). I just want to feel like my priorities are right. I want to believe I'm putting the weight of my life where God most desires it. I don't want to neglect what's important because there was something else that demanded my attention.
I don't want to run after something and then realize I was missing the entire race.
So let's pull back the lens a little bit and realize that our time is short and our decisions have eternal weight. Where are the places in your life that you have chosen you over Him? It isn't too late.
It's never too late.
Make this day an offering, and consider this an extension of our welcome to use this place as an altar. Don't feel pressure to write any details or even leave a comment. But know that I am praying for you, you sweet friends who visit us here. We all walk long roads. We all wish we could start over sometimes. We all need to be told it isn't too late to make it beautiful.
As a reminder, this is a place where we love each other furiously, and with the grace that the Lord gives us. And on many, many occasions, we are honored to let our coffee go cold for the sake of loving you.
Prayers today, from me to you...
{In the event that infidelity has been part of your story, I would love to introduce you to my dear friend Trish and her husband Justin. They have a ministry called Refine Us that I pray is a blessing to you.}
By Angie Smith
:angel:
How Can We Pray For You Today?
Lisa-Jo
The Bible tells us,
"For where two or three gather together as my followers, I am there among them." Matthew 18:20.
We believe it.
Whether we're gathered around a kitchen table, a newborn baby, a brand new project, a hospital bed or a blog comment box.
So sisters, how can we gather around and pray for you today? It's been a while since we shared prayer requests – let's open our hearts today. And please take a moment to pray for the woman who commented right before you.
With much love on this day of rest,
Lisa-Jo, Gypsy Mama and community manager for (in)courage
:angel:
Faithfulness vs. Prominence
Joy Dombrow
"How have you been? What have you been up to?"
In a rare once in a while, this question is asked of me and I can respond with some interesting tale of a significant accomplishment or a prominent role into which I have stepped. But more often than not, the crickets chirp amongst the silence in my head as I strain to remember something from my days that is worth sharing. It all seems rather unimportant, insignificant. Mind you, I am well aware that what I do has great worth in the eyes of God, raising two beautiful children, loving my husband, and helping to shepherd a faith family. But to relay it to another human being (especially someone that happens to being doing such things plus rising on the prominence ladder) seems, well, so boring. And here is where the comparison game can get deadly.
She is the PTO president and puts on amazing class parties.
She had 100 people at her 40th birthday party.
She is on the speaking circuit, broadening her influence to thousands.
Her blog stats are off the charts.
That pastor's wife runs an international women's conference.
"I don't know how she does it all".
She is running a corporation.
She is changing the world through her service.
She is making a difference.
Okay, so you could continue and extend this list to fit your circumstances, but you know exactly what I mean, right? Sometimes, life seems a little too mundane, a little too inconspicuous and everyone else around you is seemingly making an significant impact on the world. Perhaps the season of folding laundry and wiping snotty noses will pass and/or lead to something a little more glamorous.
But what if it doesn't? What then?
A life of perceived prominence is no more significant than a life of faithfulness. In fact, a truly successful life is a faithful life. It is a life that consistently does the right thing over time, stringing together little choices and decisions which strengthen the fabric and deepen the textures of our legacy.
Perhaps faithfulness will lead to greater influence. God certainly says that if we are faithful with the little things that He will allow us to have more. It is our faithfulness that makes us trustworthy to God. But even if the influence does not broaden in scope, the faithfulness alone is what makes us successful. (And sometimes, prominence can even get in the way of faithfulness).
No, a faithful life usually doesn't receive a lot of accolades. Faithful people tend to get overlooked, since they are about the little things, not the big ones. It is the unglamorous side of the Christian life for it requires moving in the same direction down a long and windy road, believing that the desired destination is just ahead. And therein lies the faith of faithfulness. It is believing in the unseen and trusting that this humble life is the best life, because it is the one He asks of you.
So hang in there dear one, and let me applaud you from my tiny platform. Your faithful life may be overshadowed by the clamors of others more prominent, but it stands in full glory (accompanied by great fanfare) before the King of Kings.
By Joy Dombrow, Living Loved.
:angel:
I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, squinting from the lights above while also trying to open my eyelids so I could brush mascara on my lashes. My mouth opened too, almost instinctively. I wondered why opening my mouth also opened my eyes. It didn't make sense and neither did the way I was feeling.
I had been struggling with paralyzing self-doubt that week, and it was making me question everything. Now here I was now, getting ready to travel to speak at a large women's event and begging God to zap me with confidence or send Jesus back before I got there.
Although I felt honored when I was invited months before, now I questioned why I'd said yes. My internal dialogue was relentless...What if I forget my message? What if they don't connect with my stories or laugh at my humor? What if...?
After I finished my make-up, I turned around to put something in my suitcase and I noticed a huge nine-foot shadow on the wall. I was surprised how big the shadow was, and how much it was distorting the image of my five-foot, two-inch frame.
All of a sudden, it dawned on me: my uncertainty had created a huge shadow—a shadow of doubt.
Just like my shadow on the wall was distorting my shape, my doubt was distorting my thoughts and overpowering my emotions with confusion and questions.
As I stood there looking at the humongous shadow, I sensed God whispering to my heart: You can only see the shadow because you have turned away from the light. Turn back toward the light. Slowly I turned back toward the lights above the mirror, and realized I was no longer standing in the shadow. And that was the day I discovered the shadow of my doubts.
In the shadow of doubt, insecurity paralyzes us with statements like:
"I can't do this."
"Things will never change."
"My life isn't going to get better."
"I'll never have the confidence I need."
Those are some depressing thoughts, aren't they? But oh how quickly they weasel their way into our minds and disguise their voices to sound like ours. Sometimes we agree with them and they become our own.
God doesn't want us living in a cycle of defeat of dwelling in the shadows of doubt. In Isaiah 49:23, He says: "Then you will know that I am the LORD. Those who hope in me will not be disappointed." Yet, doubt and hope cannot live in our hearts at the same time. As God's girls, we need to know and believe that change is possible. We need to hope that life can be different. Otherwise, doubt will win every time and our hearts will be eroded by attitudes and emotions of defeat—but it is not supposed to be this way.
God declares with confidence that things can change—"See, I am doing a new thing!" "I am working all things together for good, because you love me and are called according to my purpose." "All things are possible to {her} who believes" (Isa. 43:19; Rom. 8:28; Mark 9:23 NASB).
In my book, A Confident Heart, I talk about how we can identify and overcome our most common self-doubts. It's a daily process but we can replace our lack of confidence with lasting "God-fidence" – as we learn to live in the security of His promises each day. This week I hope you'll join me here as we learn how to move beyond believing in God to really believing Him by relying on the power of His Truth and living like it's true, no matter what our feelings or circumstances tell us!
By Renee Swope, Leading Women to Live Confidently in Christ
:angel:
On Having It All Together and The Lie of Perfection
Feb 20, 2012 12:10 am | Jessica Turner
As a blogger, I receive emails from readers asking things like:
How do you do it all?
I don't. Seriously. I wish you could see my to list. Or even just my laundry baskets.
How do you keep your house clean?
That's funny. It's a mess most days. Cheerios can almost always be found on the floor. And dusting? That never happens.
How do you find time to cook?
I use the crock-pot more than the oven.
In short, I do NOT have it all together.
I struggle with the same things you do.
There's never enough time in a day. I could always be a better wife, mother, friend.
I am just an average woman trying to make things work, one day at a time.
Some days go better than others and I complete the to do list, but more often, I fall short.
Very short.
It's funny how people's perceptions are often so different from reality.
Doesn't it seem like everyone else has it all together?
It's a lie.
No one does.
Consider these words by Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
Forget Not:
1) to be patient with yourself.
2) the difference between a good sacrifice and a foolish one.
3) to be happy NOW.
4) the 'why' of the gospel.
5) that the Lord loves you.
Such a simple, profound reminder that I believe can radically impact a life. Instead of trying to obtain the "magic" how to from someone, let's remember Uchtdorf's words this month.
Today, prayerfully ask God to show you areas of your life that need more patience, what is worth sacrificing and how you can be happier. Also, ask Him to keep your heart fixed on the truth of His love and to not believe the lie that everyone else's life is perfect.
I'm praying the same for my life. And the next time someone asks me about how I do it all, I'm going to laugh and say, "come on sister, I'm just like you. We can't do it all, but we can remember that the Lord loves us and try to be patient with ourselves."
Free Printable:
I loved Uchtdorf's quote so much, that I asked Candice of Coco Prints if we could offer her design as a free printable, and she said yes!
To help encourage you, please print off this free printable from Coco Prints featuring Uchtdorf's quote (click on the image to view the high res image, then save it to your computer).:
By Jessica of The Mom Creative
:angel:
I Was Her
Lysa
I saw her coming across the arena. Deliberately. Intentionally. Her eyes fixed on the stage... on me... on what I must have represented in that moment, a woman who might understand.
Through the crowd. Up the stairs. Across the stage. She stood next to me pressing her shoulder against mine as I was speaking to 6500 women.
And there she was staring out at thousands. But pressing into one. Needing more than words.
Later she explained she needed to feel God and thought if she stood close enough to me, she just might be able to feel Him.
I didn't have time to carefully plan what to do. I've never had this happen before. I've never seen this happen. It wasn't even on my scope of possibility. But there she was. And there I was. Two women who simply and desperately need Jesus.
And because I am so hyper aware of my own desperation for Jesus every moment of every day, I simply wrapped my arm around her and kept on speaking.
It was a wrinkle in time. Something that wasn't supposed to be and yet was. And I think I now know why.
I needed to remember that ravenous longing I once had to press against somebody who knew Jesus. I was her. Looking at other people's faith wondering how to get that. That depth. That closeness. That unswerving conviction.
I truly thought if only a person with that faith would let me close enough, I'd discover their secret. I'd learn their routines. I'd mimic their obedience. I'd follow them to the ends of the earth until I got it right. Then, then, then, I'd feel close to Jesus. I'd understand the Bible. I'd pray powerful prayers. And all would finally make sense.
However, there is a big difference between being close to people who love Jesus and being close to Jesus Himself.
I can certainly learn from people. "He who walks with the wise, grows wise." (Proverbs 13:20)
But if I want closeness with Jesus, I won't find that in following anyone but Jesus Himself. He is the One who must be pursued.
There have been a thousand whispers from my heart, "Show me, Jesus. Show me how to follow you, be close to you, press into you, be more like you... show me. Show me today. Show me in this minute. Show me, please Jesus, show me."
A thousand whispers. And there will surely be thousands more. For following Jesus can't be put into a formula.
He simply says, "Follow me." And those who dare to whisper, "yes, that's what I want," and then walk in the ways He tells us to, find Him. I've discovered when I position myself to be in the places where Jesus is the focus, I find Him.
I find Him in the middle of a worship song at church. I find Him when I read the Bible. I find Him when I quietly whisper thank you and choose to see the blessings woven all through my day.
That's what I want this woman who came on stage to press against me to know. If you seek Him, you will find Him.
Yes, there she was. And there I was. Two women who simply and desperately need Jesus.
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:
Wouldn't it be great if becoming a Christian meant all of our doubts and fears went away? Have you ever wondered why you struggle with insecurities and self-doubts even though you know you are a child of God?
Maybe God is leading you to do something but doubt has convinced you you're not smart enough or gifted enough. Perhaps you wanted kids and now you have a family, but now you question if you have what it takes to be a good mom. Or maybe you've wanted to change jobs and now have opportunity, but doubt you will succeed at something new.
In Monday's post, I described the day I discovered the shadow of my doubt. After begging God to zap me with confidence {and realizing it wasn't going to happen} I asked Him show me what made me start feeling so insecure and uncertain.
Immediately I remembered Gideon, a man who was also called by God yet paralyzed by feelings of inadequacy.
From reading his story in Judges 6, I knew Gideon overcame his doubts and fears by focusing on what God thought about him, instead of what he thought about himself. But first, Gideon processed his doubts with God in a very honest way. He told the angel of the Lord that he questioned God's presence and doubted His promises because of recent conflicts and defeats.
It was time for me to get honest with God, too. I needed more than a quick fix; I needed to figure out what triggered my self-doubts and led me into such a yucky place of uncertainty.
Earlier that week a conflict with a friend made me doubt I should even be in ministry. After all, self-doubt whispered, if I can't maintain healthy relationships at all times in all areas, how can I help others? I also received feedback on a project that week. Although there were several positive comments, one harsh criticism overshadowed the compliments and consumed my focus.
I had also fallen into the comparison trap and caught myself comparing my abilities as a speaker to others who'd been booked for an upcoming event with me. Self-doubt convinced me I wasn't as gifted as they were.
Conflict, criticism and comparison had sent me into the shadows of doubt.
What about you? When conflict arises at home or at work, do you ever assume it disqualifies you from other ministries or callings? Does criticism ever paralyze you from believing you can do certain things? Or, has comparison ever convinced you that someone else can do it (whatever "it" is) better than you can?
I used to think insecurity was a negative emotion, a lapse of faith, a dip in self-confidence, and I wanted God to simply make my doubts go away. But instead, God has used my doubts to lead me to a place of deeper dependence on Him and His promises.
In my book, A Confident Heart, I share how we can allow God to change the way we think, which will change the way we feel, and eventually transform the way we live!
It's not a quick fix but a powerful process of identifying our doubts, what triggers them and then learning to rely on God's power and promises to lead us beyond the shadow of our doubts.
So, the next time you start feeling uncertain or insecure, ask God to help you identify what thoughts triggered your doubts. Then process that trigger point through the filter of God's perspective. Asking Him if there are lies you're believing that need to be replaced with His truth. Then change your thought process by focusing on His thoughts towards you, instead of your thoughts about yourself. For instance:
When doubt tells you that you can't do something because it's too hard, remember God says you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you (Phil. 4:13).
When doubt tells you that you're not good enough, focus on the truth that God says you're fearfully and wonderfully made; all of His works are wonderful and you are one of them (Ps. 139:14).
Friend, I have no doubt God wants you to live with a confident heart! Some days it will be about what He's calling you to do— but more than that it will be about what He wants to do in you — as you learn to completely depend on Him!
By Renee Swope, Leading Women to Live Confidently in Christ
:angel:
One of the many faces today's churches seem to have taken on apart from God's leading is that of the Stepford wives syndrome – picture perfection, all smiles and saccharine sweetness. To maintain such an image, members of the Church have learned to avoid conflict at all costs.
We sit together on opposite ends of a small rowboat in the midst of a raging storm, refusing to address our differing paddling methods for fear we may rock the boat – never mind that the crashing waves have already rocked the boat to the point of sinking.
Perhaps at first we avoid conflict for the sake of preserving relationship, fearing a friendship cannot weather the storm of contrary thoughts or feelings. Eventually, however, as we watch the friendship die in silence, the truth emerges – what we feared most all along was not losing the friendship, but something else entirely. Perhaps the mirage of a perfectly shaped world, a sense of control, or our pride.
Is this what God asks of us – conflict-free perfection? Is this what He means when His Word says we should not be a house divided, but should be of one mind?
I worked in an organization where sweeping conflict under the rug to remain hidden is precisely what made the house fall again and again. To be a body made of diverse parts inevitably means differences will arise. The mind and feet may want to run while the heart and arms desire embrace.
Such conflict is not bad. How we approach it can be, but the approaching itself is not wrong. There are reasons the parts behave differently – it is good that they do. But we rarely learn what to do with these differences. Many fail to speak the truth while others fail to speak it in love.
Our teachers tend to be parents squashing emotion or exploding in rage;
cultures idealizing happiness as ultimate good, forbidding that any cause discomfort;
churches silencing members for the appearance of kindness, goodness, gentleness – as though God's Spirit is incapable of producing such fruit;
science informing of only two options – the nerves say flee, so we dare not fight.
But I do not speak of fighting, not with fists or with words. [How ridiculous we inculcate children with rhymes causing wonder at words that cause pain. At least bones broken by sticks and stones can heal with time. The cuts of words run deep and fester.]
We cannot all just get along until we first learn to not get along. It is time for the Church to teach the truth about conflict. We cannot afford to continue running.
The Scriptures present peace as an active concept, one to be pursued, not simply arrived at by placating. Ephesians 4 urges believers to speak truth and be angry, even as it exhorts them to "be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you" [NASB].
Heaven does not forbid that one feels pain. The Bible abounds with angst-ridden conflict: Jacob and Esau, David and Saul, Sarah and Hagar, Jesus and Pharisees, God and humanity. All ultimately lead to God's purpose and to transformation of man.
Discovering our own way is not the right or the only way threatens our everyday living, drawing us near to hear God's truth. His truth is enough to overcome, enough to reconcile.
As we paddle along in the storm-tossed dinghy, we can dare to shift forward, to break silence and converse. In so doing, we may find a common stroke that pulls further forward, landing us closer to shore.
By Halley, The Sky Above Us
:angel:
She didn't have much.
Actually, compared to what we have, she had nothing.
But her little was enough.
Imagine the bleak scene: a starving widow in a desperate famine, preparing her last meal-a tiny bit of flour and oil- so she could feed her child and die.
[I've seen pictures of the famine going on in the Horn of Africa today. It's not hard to recreate the horror of the situation.]
A stranger, a man of God, showed up and asked her for bread. She told him her situation. I can almost see the defeat and sorrow etched into the deep lines of worry on her face. Elijah tells her to step out in faith.
She did as he asked. She prepared the bread and gave it to the stranger.
She gave all she had, even though it wasn't much to look at. The flour and oil never ran out. He turned her little into a lot.
Her inadequate offering became adequate.
I look at my container of flour and oil. There's not much in there, y'all.
What I have to offer won't fill both hands. I don't have loads of money or talent. I'm not a very good friend and I let being an introvert determine my day. I yell at my kids and nag my husband. I'm never caught up on laundry and I'm usually overwhelmed. Some days are lonely and I doubt my determination to live counter-cultural and often listen to the voice that whispers, "you are not good enough to do this." There are nights I lay awake riddled with mom guilt and regret.
I am inadequate. I am not capable of the God-size dream He's called me to.
But He is adequate in me.
And that's more than enough.
Think of the unknown people of the Bible. They are mentioned because their minuscule existence changed the very course of history.
God uses all kinds of people and He specializes in the ordinary.
God's view of you is far beyond anything you could imagine. As you walk in your God given identity, you are transforming the world around you. You are bringing the authority of heaven to earth. -Jane Hoyt
You were created for a purpose. It may seem small, but it matters.
He created you exactly like you are. He has ordained a specific purpose for you.
And you possess the potential and creativity to do something amazing for Him. Even if it seems small and insignificant.
It's not. Your small contribution might be the catalyst to change the world.
Don't look at your "I cant's and I'm nots". He created you and within you lies the possibility to fulfill what He calls you too.
There is a great need in our world. At your doorstep. He's not looking for a great world leader or a wise person with their act together.
He's looking for someone inadequate to fill it.
—————————-
Do you ever feel small and unnoticed in this great big world? Are you searching for your purpose? Do you doubt He can use your small offering in a big way? Let me pray with you.
Bible reference: I Kings 17:8-16
by We are THAT family
:angel:
Do you ever compare yourself to others and feel like you don't quite measure up? Maybe you think you're not as smart, capable, personable, or as godly as they are?
It is so easy to think that if we had more or knew more, we'd be secure. The truth is, even people who "have it all" still struggle with feelings of insecurity. The Bible opens with the story of a woman who had everything, but it wasn't enough (Genesis 2).
God had established Eve's worth as His child and the crown of His creation. God had given Eve every woman's desire: intimacy, beauty, security, significance, and purpose. Yet, Satan conjured up feelings of insecurity by getting Eve to take her eyes off what she had and focus on what she didn't have.
Boy, can I relate. Like Eve, I've heard Satan's whispers telling me I'm not all I could be—or should be. One day I was reading her story in Genesis 2 and noticed that the enemy's questions and suggestions were intended to plant seeds of doubt in Eve's heart. He wanted her to doubt God and herself.
The enemy's whispers tempted Eve to try to "be" more and "have" more by seeking significance apart from God's provision. He convinced her that something was missing in her life and that the forbidden fruit would make her "like God."
It was a foolish comparison, but all comparisons are. Yet, don't we do it all the time:
If only I was like her...if only I had a house like her, a husband like hes, a job like her...; if only my children behaved like her's....; If only ________, then I'd feel significant...satisfied...secure.
Paul warns us that those who "measure themselves by themselves, and compare themselves with themselves, are not wise." (2 Corinthians 10:12, NIV) Comparison will always leave us feeling like we don't measure up. We can try to do more and be more, yet it's never enough.
If only Eve had focused on who she was and what she had as a child of God. If only we could, too.
Yet, Satan wants us to focus on our flaws and feelings of inadequacy, then exhaust our energy figuring out how to hide them. But we don't have to go along with his schemes. Instead we can recognize his lies, refute his temptations with truth, and focus our heart and our thoughts on God's acceptance, security and significance. Then we can thank God for His provision and His promises that remind us of who we are in Him:
I am accepted...
Ephesians 1:3-8 I have been chosen by God and adopted as His child.
Colossians 1:13-14 I have been redeemed and forgiven of all my sins.
Colossians 2:9-10 I am complete in Christ.
I am secure...
Romans 8:28 I am assured that God works for my good in all circumstances.
Romans 8:31-39 I am free from condemnation. I cannot be separated from God's love.
Philippians 1:6 I am confident God will complete the good work He started in me.
I am significant...
Ephesians 2:10 I am God's workmanship.
Ephesians 3:12 I may approach God with freedom and confidence.
Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.
Author and psychologist, Dr. Neil T. Anderson says, "The more you reaffirm who you are in Christ, the more your behavior (and beliefs) will begin to reflect your true identity!"
So, the next time we're tempted to use the measuring stick of comparison – let's be commit to measure UP by focusing upward on Christ and who we are in HIM!
Lord, thank You that I'm chosen, holy, and dearly loved. When I'm tempted to find my significance and security apart from Your provision and promises, help me recognize Satan's lies, refuse his temptations and stand firm in my faith. Remind me that such confidence as this is mine through Christ—not that I am competent in myself to claim anything for myself, but competence comes from Him. In Jesus' name I pray, Amen. (Colossians 3:12; 1 Peter 5:9; 2 Corinthians 3:4–5)
By Renee Swope, author of A Confident Heart
:angel:
In all the years of working with people I've learned this, people matter. People matter to God. People have value, purpose and worth.
And one thing I have learned is that many don't even know it. It's what makes the job of those of us that do know, so important. To do this though requires a lot of risk. A risk of heart, mind and emotion. It requires an understanding of Love.
I am continually learning what Love really is. I know that as a woman, I offer a lot just by being a woman. Women are menders of relationships in the world. The caretakers of relationships with another, while God is the caretaker of the heart that loves. That's why the word beautiful is used to describe women.
Its beauty that is unveiled in their lives that restores and refreshes in a world that without God finds very little beauty. It's rough and unlovely. The world can be harsh and cold without warmth and forgiveness. That is what makes the expression of Love so divine. How we Love is a true reflection of Who or what we allow to Love us.
A woman who is loved and knows she is loved is glowing. She beams because her heart's questions have been answered. "You are enough. You are worth fighting for. You are lovely."
So when people ask me, "Sarah, how is it you are so cheerful all the time?" It's because I know I'm Loved. I know I'm not only Loved but Cherished. God's Love is like a seal on my heart. I need not look for it elsewhere. Not in broken relationships, not in food, not in a job, not in my gifts. Simply in the fact, that God loves me for me. This changes everything! It means because I know I'm Loved, I can now offer Love to another!
And because that Love comes from the Lord, it doesn't demand a specific response from that person. God is enough! He is my portion. He is my Redeemer. He is the One who completes me!
And so I have that Love now to express and offer. Out of a heart filled with Jesus, comes an overflow of amazing Love and Grace. Grace that is someone doing for you what you cannot do for yourself. Extending kindness when undeserved. Time, when time is short. Encouragement though frustrations arise. Faith when you find yourself at the edge of Jordan's waters. Hope, when God dries up the Jordan and sees you safely across.
All that to say, we are merely vessels. But we are vessels who hold a priceless treasure when we know and experience the Love of God. Love that goes beyond our own selves. Love that reaches and covers our brokenness as far as the East is to the West. It is a Love that changes us and allows us to be difference makers in a world that needs to be shown a difference.
I am nothing but a pot that has a great bunch of cracks in it. But I see my pot like a geranium pot you might find outside an Italian villa. It's cracked all over and has moss growing on the outside, but out of every crack there is life growing out of it. There is a plant producing beauty and constantly goes through the process of dying to itself to make way for new blooms to grow.
Love allows broken pots to be a vessel for new Life. And it's through that Life and that Love that hearts are changed and Lives are made new and Love is truly known.
By: Sarah Cooper
:angel:
I sat on the couch with sweet, rare friends, and one prayed words that I couldn't understand. They were meant to bless me, and I cried in unbelief. I am none of those things she called me, struggling in the tension of the already but not yet. I believed her, Holley, in theory, but I've only just begun to read and embrace anything that remotely refers to my being "[...] Already Amazing."
The next day I yelled horribly at my children, and then the day after that I watched my son exhibit such control-freak behavior that it nearly paralyzed me and him both. Often if he messes up, he can't seem to get over it. He cries and begs forgiveness over and over again and then falls apart in utter disappointment when he doesn't come through with his imagined "right way" to be. I know he learned this from me, this lack of understanding about grace.
So I wake after such a string of failure that I call a sitter and drive to my favorite coffee shop. I've planned to mope about how I'm going to completely ruin my children. As I arrive, I have the beautiful idea to take breakfast to a favorite friend, who's very recently adopted. I reach for my wallet, realize I've forgotten it at home, and just as I'm backing out of the parking lot, my friend Heather walks out with a paper bag.
She stops me and says she's actually on her way to take breakfast to our friend's house, the same friend I want to go see. After inviting me to come along, she buys my coffee, and it doesn't feel like a coincidence at all.
Our girlfriend's home is the loud of joy and the ache of growth, the heightened sense of brand new and unknowing and beautiful. Her newest daughter is receiving therapy in the bedroom, and I swell with emotion while looking at the fanciest little kid wheelchair, how dumbfounded I find myself at my friends' contagious love for children with special needs or not. I want it, and actually, it's already working in me, how wonderful her daughter is, like all God's children.
God has poured grace in that home, and I hear her raised voice in the other room. I fumble things and watch two girlfriends in the thick back-and-forth of ones who have loved each other into the deepest darkest waters. After a while, things settle. The coffee is half-full.
They ask me how things are, and I cry and say I'm not good enough, that I don't know how to parent with grace, don't know what it means. I need someone to tell me what to do.
And there is no good answer. Every time I try to scrounge for one, my girlfriend looks at me pointedly and says, "No! You're missing it! There's nothing you can DO."
Oh and all my outlines on works-based righteousness come flooding back, how it is all and only Jesus.
Then she tells me a secret story of how deeply she loves her daughter, regardless of anything she does or doesn't do. Will she walk? Let me tell you for certain – her Mama wouldn't and couldn't love her an ounce more if she did. I understand it only shallowly as I might understand faith and hope in the abstract. We can skim the surface or go in to find the depths of those bottomless wells. Words hardly fit such a love.
I imagine if I were like the Apostle Paul or that godly woman who wrote the holy book of gratitude. I imagine if somehow I could be that good, even then I wouldn't be righteous–the secret that both these envied saints know well. I imagined that I never get better, never stop struggling with anger or depression or or or. Even then, I am the same.
I am the righteousness of God in Christ. That work is done. Holley says I'm already amazing. So I sit with it, the grace and the love. I am the daughter, and there's nothing I can do, and I am free. That right there is the good news.
:angel:
When I was in college, I confessed to my roommates a trick I had for staying motivated while working out. I sang the theme song from Rocky in my head.
I'm not talking about Eye of the Tiger, either. I'm talking about Gonna Fly Now, a mostly instrumental anthem that actually only has three words (Gonna. Fly. Now.). This cheesy tune from the 80s was my high school's fight song, and after growing up hearing it played by the band every Friday night of the fall, it got me all fired up.
Or at least pushed me hard enough to finish a 10-minute session on the rowing machine.
Don't feel bad if you're laughing at me right now. My roommates laughed at me then – and still think it's funny to tease me about it ten many years later.
The mocking doesn't really bother me because I know that my ability to coach myself through difficult times (yes, I'm including exercise in that category) is a good thing. I've worked hard to maintain healthy self talk, and encouraging myself is sometimes just as important as encouraging others.
Over the years I've gotten pretty good at thinking and saying, "You can do this. It's going to happen this time. This is your semester/project/job/year."
And when I say those things, I believe them. I do. Mostly.
————————————–
A few weeks ago I sat in my first Weight Watchers meeting of the year. The topic of the day's discussion was "believe." Our leader asked what we believe about weight loss and the program.
As I sat there I nodded and even offered a couple comments to the conversation. Of course I believe this program works. And I know that if I follow the program, I'll lose weight. But later that day, as those words rattled around my brain, I started wondering. Do I really believe that I can do this?
My question wasn't about the program; it was about me. I realized that for all my positive talk, I didn't really believe that I could lose weight. Before I knew it, my thoughts changed, pummeling me with doubt and disbelief:
It's not like this was my first attempt. Do I really think it's going to work this time? I've been trying to do this my entire life. And while it worked once or twice, it never lasted. What's so different this year? I'm not good at this. It is my biggest struggle. It's Just. So. Hard.
————————————–
Before I go too far down that rabbit hole, I remember. I remember what Jesus told his disciples: "Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." (Matthew 17:20)
Just a mustard seed – that's all it takes. When I was growing up, my mom had a jar of those little yellow beads sitting on our windowsill. They really are very small! Surely I could find that much faith.
Then I spotted it: a tiny, foggy ray of hope. I grabbed onto that hope, and I held on with all I have. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . I can do this.
Yes, I do believe. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I just barely believe. But sometimes, "just barely" is enough. It's enough for me to answer, with confidence this time, "Yes, I believe."
What do you need or want to believe today? Can you find just a mustard seed of faith?
This post wasn't sponsored by Weight Watchers :) It's just a small example of big places in our lives where we need to get better at believing change can happen.
:angel:
At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.
After John was put in prison, Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God.
"The time has come," he said. "The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!" ~Mark 1:12-15.
:angel:
I was sweeping the floor under the dining room table last night; Kyle was washing the dinner dishes. It was that sweet moment of the day: the kids are tucked in bed, but it's not so late yet that I can no longer keep my eyes open.
"I've been dealing with really frustrating, conflicting thoughts lately," I started. "I feel like in one day, I'll be swept over with this overwhelming desire to just plant some roots and dig ourselves deep in one location for a long time, and then five minutes later, I'll miss our overseas life, where we traveled all the time and never knew where home would be in a year's time."
"Wow, there's something really wrong with you," Kyle teased.
"I'm serious. Or like school. I'll be so excited about the fact that we can homeschool, loving every minute of it. And then an hour later, I'll be seriously questioning our sanity, and wondering why on earth we're making it hard on ourselves by doing it."
I'm actually this way with so many things. I'll love that our house is teeny-tiny, but then I'll think about how nice it would be to have just one extra bedroom. Or I'll relish in the bliss of living right at the base of mountains, and then not five minutes later, miss living near the beach.
I'll love that the two of us both work from home, but then I'll wonder if life would be less crazy if we had an office somewhere.
I'll be glad we live in a small town, but a second later, I'll wish we lived back in a big city.
Heck, I'll even order the salad, and then look at Kyle's burger and wonder why I didn't order that.
I am a mess.
"Do you ever feel this way?" I asked Kyle.
"Oh sure. I miss a lot of the places where we've traveled and lived."
"But more than just miss. Really wonder if where we are, doing what we're doing, is the best thing for our family. Do you ever feel like the 'best' thing is just around the corner?"
"I guess sometimes I wonder if the very opposite of what we're doing is what we're supposed to be doing."
I went back to sweeping. And then I had that head smack moment. It's the thing that cycles in my life routinely; the liturgical reminder from God. (You know how it is that God seems to do that? That there's a Big Theme in your life that God wants you to learn, over and over?)
"If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." -C.S. Lewis
The reason I want to live somewhere different every five minutes is because there is nowhere, literally, on God's green earth that will make me happy. It's a lovely ball hurling through space, yes, but it's not Home. His fingerprints are smeared all over the place, from Mt. Everest to an infant's toes, but it's not where I'll ever feel.... right. At peace. Satisfied.
That doesn't mean I shouldn't listen to God's voice for where I need to be, what I need to be doing, when to move and when to stay still. But it does mean that although I want to be all over the place geographically, I must always find my roots buried in Him.
He is at work all over the world, and in many ways, He doesn't care where I live on it. But He cares about my heart. And He wants me to find peace where He is. Which is everywhere.
You'll see my night's reminder here—that the grass really is greener where I water it, because He is there, too. So I finish sweeping the floor, and a few hours later, pull the cord on the nightstand lamp, and tuck in to my earthly bed.
We may live in another country in a year, or we may still be here in Oregon. It doesn't really matter. One day, eventually, I'll finally be Home. And it'll scratch that itch of satisfaction and peace.
With what does your heart wrestle?
:angel:
When I asked Jesus into my life at the age of fifteen, I was under the impression that he would do an overhaul of my entire life. Well, he did, just not in the ways I would have thought. I thought, and hoped, that everything would be better, easier, prettier, softer, that I would instantly feel whole for the first time.
The overhaul came alright, but it came in the form of friction between me and each parent; friends that I had been hanging out with didn't understand and I found myself, again, a girl without a confidante; sadly, my emotions remained the hormonal-induced tidal waves that they were pre-salvation and my laziness remained at the typical teenage levels.
But the worst change that I can see looking back was my goody-two-shoes image being magnified through the lens of feeling as if I had just become the poster girl at my high school for Christianity. For Jesus-loving, basically.
I thought I had been keeping my act together as the good girl all those years, but it was nothing compared to the weight I felt once I began to follow Jesus. Grace was not in my vocabulary. If I were a good girl before Jesus, I had to be best girl after Jesus. And if I weren't, people would get the wrong idea about the Savior. All because of me. And I couldn't let that happen. Too many people that I cared about didn't know Christ yet and were watching my fledgling faith to see if it were a phase I'd simply grow out of eventually or something that could actually change who I was.
Twenty-five years have gone by since I first spoke with Jesus in an intimate way. I have gone on to do more sinning post-Jesus then pre-Jesus. But my yearning for the appearance of perfection became stronger as I got older, especially as my circles of influence widened and shifted as an author, speaker and church staff member. I had to look more like my perceived version of Jesus, and nothing would slip through the cracks of that because then what would people think?
It turns out that one can only live like that for so long before things start leaking and coming out sideways. The past few years for me have been a study and experiment in allowing myself to be myself. In sharing with others humungous ways I've messed up and still do. In telling my stories, no matter how pathetic and harsh and how downright unattractive I look in their light.
My latest story is one of divorce. An ending of a Christian marriage. It doesn't get more ugly than that. And there is no covering up. You can cover up a difficult marriage for a very long time; trust me, I know. But you cannot pretend that you're not getting divorced. (I didn't even bother trying.)
By the time the end of my marriage came along, I had been tested and tried through the fires of being authentic, letting people know of my constant sinning, and falling back onto grace. I now believe that it's okay to not be okay. And that no one's opinion of me matters except One.
I am a just a girl, perfectly imperfect, trying to love Jesus, and holding on to the one thing that alluded me for so very long. The truth that it doesn't matter what I do or what I say or what happens to me, grace is there to catch me and remind me that I am loved. Deeply and perfectly and forever. And that is what is changing me.
By: Elisabeth Corcoran
:angel:
So many times I run from you. So many times I hide from your perfect will in my life.
So many times you bring me back.
Ive been sitting here this morning having my quiet time, drinking my coffee. I love mornings like this, where I can sit and soak up my time with the Lord. Lately I have been questioning a lot about my ability (or inability) to fully trust Him. To have complete relinquishment of myself.
My head gets in the way of my heart.
I want my life to not only serve Him, but I want it to be a fragrant offering to Him. There is so much I can't do on my own. So much I cant overcome on my own. Yet He still stands there waiting for me to ask Him for his hand. Its so very hard sometimes to honestly believe that someone else knows what is right for me. It is hard for me to just sit and wait for His will, yet when I do, life holds so much more peace and joy.
Worship is my heart. I want really to worship Him. I want my life to be a pleasing fragrance. I want my worship to be so enveloped in awe and adoration that those around me gain a true understanding of the personal and emotional relationship they can have with a loving God. I bow my pride before Him and pour my veil of worship out. Even in the midst of my ugliness and my vileness, He still longs for that personal relationship with me.
It is what I was created for.
Pouring out my heart. Why is that so hard? Why is it so hard for me to show Him the areas of my life that he already knows exist? Why do I think that I can hide things from an all compassing, all knowing jealous God?
I confess now my selfishness, my pride, my longing for the things of this world. I humbly lay down my life in front of him- like I have done so many times before. I give him my life.
Actually, I give him back the life he gave me.
Have you ever wondered what it feels like to have absolute abandon? Have you ever been in a place in your relationship with Christ where you feel so completely out of control of everything, yet so at peace? I long for that, I long for the relationship with Him that causes me to completely release my grip on my life. I long for the realness of just crawling in His lap and laying my head on His shoulder like a child does.
Complete and utter trust.
Christ is not a lofty God sitting way up there, looking at us way down here. He isn't waiting for us to sing a hymn and light a candle. He doesn't care about our rituals, He isn't impressed with them.
He created us for the relationship. He created us for His joy. He created us to worship Him.
He created us to be REAL.
Sunday mornings are meaningless to Him if they are lathered up in shiny offerings of pride. He wants us to cry with Him. He wants us to share our darkest and most hurtful moments with Him. He wants us to understand that our relationship with him was meant to be intimate, emotional, honest.
He longs for those moments with us.
By: Heather, Especially Heather
:angel:
We love you.
We love that you read here every day.
But it's leap year – let's take a leap together and today take the time you would have spent reading (in)courage and read your Bible or favorite Bible study instead.
Unplugging together ~ much love,
the (in)courage team.
:angel:
Never, Ever Quit
Holley Gerth
"Let's go!" my spandex-clad husband cheerfully declares as we round a corner on our bikes. I've been enthusiastically pedaling along with him but suddenly my eyes see it...THE HILL.
"Did we make a wrong turn?" I ask with hope in my voice. His sprint to the start of the incline serves as my answer.
I start strong.
By halfway up I think I might die.
By two thirds up I'm hoping I will.
I wave farewell to the caterpillar racing past my tire.
The scenes of my life flash before my eyes and I notice a lot of them contain chocolate.
Then suddenly...I'm there.
At the top.
I would whoop and holler with joy except I can't breathe. But I do manage a lopsided grin. And my husband says, "Aren't you glad you didn't quit?" Despite a strong desire to smack him on his spandex-covered tush for putting me through this, I have to admit he's right. Stinking hill. It was worth it after all.
You will want to quit. More than once.
And fear is always at the root of it.
I'm not going to make it.
I can't do this.
It's too much.
But listen here–you can do it. You're stronger than you know. Your God is bigger than you've seen. That hill isn't as unending as it seems right now.
Just keep going and going and going.
Until you leave fear in the dust.
Here's the secret: You're not a quitter...you're a climber. You just may not know it yet.
–Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing {The ebook officially releases today! Woo-hoo!}
* This post is part of a series called 7 Secrets to Overcoming Fear (read the rest here)
:angel:
What's holding you back from decluttering?
Mar 02, 2012 Tsh Oxenreider
When I was 15, my room looked like a shrine to ballet. I had been dancing for 12 years at the time, I was considering going pro, and had even stood in front of the Bolshoi Ballet theater in Moscow that spring.
My room had ballet posters, signed toe shoes from famous dancers thumb-tacked to the walls, and falling-down stacks of Dance! magazine. I even had a six-foot portable ballet barre, handmade just for me. (Bet you're surprised. Because, you know, I have all kinds of time to pirouette around the house with my littles right now.)
But as you might guess—I have absolutely no idea where any of that stuff is now. 19 years later, and I've moved on. God led me in absolutely the right direction (which, for me, was away from ballet), and I don't regret it for one day. You couldn't guess I was headed towards professional ballet if you looked around my house. I hope there's some other ballerina-in-training enjoying that wooden ballet barre right now.
Now, I'm not saying those years don't mean anything to me. I have nothing but fond memories of rehearsals, annual Nutcracker productions, tutus, and even the bleeding toes. I'm so glad I spent much of my childhood in ballet class.
But can you imagine what my house would be like if I kept all my ballet stuff that I haven't used in almost two decades? We wouldn't have any room to make new memories.
I bet you could say something similar. Soccer trophies, prom dresses, homecoming mums, old history papers... We've all collected stuff like this. And except for a few precious items, most of it doesn't reflect who we are now. It'd be silly and unreasonable to keep all of it.
Stuff doesn't usually hold our memories... Stuff is often just stuff. And it can be hard to let go of stuff. We believe it holds a lot of power, and it can be scary to let it go.
• We think if we get rid of something, we're saying the memory behind it doesn't matter.
• We believe that we'd upset the person who once gave it to us, even though we never use it.
• We think we may one day need it, even though we haven't for five years and it takes up space.
Holding on to too much stuff can hold us back. It can keep us from making plans for the future, and it can overwhelm us in the present. It can make our days more congested than they need to be.
In short... stuff can rob us of peace.
And I've found that when my physical world feels crazy and cluttered, my internal world does, too. I'm less motivated to rise out of bed with a good attitude. I'm more reticent to to face the day with gladness, to be patient with my family, to be thankful for the my blessings.
It even affects my heath—I'm not as likely to exercise, to eat well, or to go to bed and sleep soundly. When I don't have the room to work out, or I can't find my ingredients in the pantry... It adds mental clutter to my day, and I give up before I start. And when I go to bed among stuff without a permanent spot, I truly don't sleep as well.
Having a reasonably decluttered home is so much more than just an act of gathering things for your local thrift store. It's a deliberate choice to add some peace and order to your life. You're trading in things for blank space; the inability to find things for a purposeful spot for the things that matter most.
Getting rid of things is a gift. I don't regret not having my ballet paraphernalia one bit... I still cherish the memories of those days, and I don't have to deal with dusting stuff I once loved. I can thank God for those days, and still have the freedom to hope for the future in front of me.
Join me?
If you feel the need to declutter, we're starting our annual spring cleaning series this next Monday, March 5. It's called Project: Simplify, and for four weeks, we'll declutter four hotspots in our homes. You can read more about it here. All are welcome!
Consider your decluttering an act of worship. You're freeing your family to wait expectantly for what God has in store for the future, you're thanking Him for the possessions you truly love, and you're unhinging your spirit from things on earth that will one day be dust. Our stuff is a gift... And yet, it's just stuff.
Have you found that decluttering your physical space also frees you mentally and spiritually?
From Tsh of Simple Mom, who's really going to roll up her sleeves this month...
:angel:
Epic Fail
Mar 02, 2012 Karen Cone
I hear that recording again. It's the one in my head that says, "You are not doing a good job at ______", or "You've really got to start doing_____", or "When are you going to get a grip on _____". And when the message is finished, someone hits the repeat button as if I want to hear that again!
All of these messages carrying the same meaning: Epic Fail (in the language of my teenage daughter). I am falling short. I can't measure up. I've gotta get serious about whatever. It is enough to drive this mommy insane.
And drive me insane it does. I find myself feeling anxious, angry, rushed, pushed, crabby, short-tempered, on edge. Then I try a little harder. I make a new plan. I come up with some ways to conquer the world–at least, just my little world. And guess what? IT DOESN"T WORK! I am only repeating the cycle on a different level.
On these days even my prayers burden me down. "Lord, I'm sorry, I failed at that again," "Lord, I'm sorry
I'm not doing a very good job at this parenting thing." "Father, will you help me to be a better mom, a more patient wife, a more gentle person, a kinder neighbor, etc.?" No surprise that a prayer life would dry up under those conditions.
Finally, I just say to God, "Father, I want to live for you. But I am struggling in every area. I am struggling just to talk to you. If I could just see Your face, if I could just look into Your eyes and see Your grace there. I need You."
And then I hear Him so clearly, not audibly, but clearly just the same: "Karen," He says as He looks into my eyes, "I want you to know that I have never been disappointed in you." Tears well in my eyes as His grace pours over me.
"Never?", I ask.
"Never." He says. And the burden falls away.
I don't have to try harder, do better, be more. I only have to come to Him. He will give me rest. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
At Rest,
Karen
www.souljourney318.com
:angel:
God is in no hurry. Compared to the works of mankind, He is extremely deliberate. God is not a slave to the human clock.
Charles Swindoll
You tell me your desert stretches for miles, and how you lived in it for weeks, months, or years. And I know exactly what you're talking about because I've seen the same friend-making landscape. True, sometimes friendships form quickly, but usually I've had to wait on them.
And really, how many of us like to wait on anything? I want what I want and I want it now, thankyouverymuch.
I can do all the right things in hopes of finding heart-friends, show up, open up and lift up. Still, sometimes it doesn't happen. Heaven knows God wants my heart connected to others, but when those connections remain elusive, what's a girl to do?
Your comments to When You Want Friends But Have a Hard Time Finding Them told me just how many of us have experienced this season. Your insightful words encouraged me, and they made me exhale in relief that it ain't just me. Like so many, Aundrea describes her own season with few friends, and her comment reads like fresh air:
I've spent a good amount of time asking God why this is happening, and what I can do about it. I haven't received a direct answer yet, but He has put some things into my mind:
1. During this time of few friends, I have spent a LOT more time with my husband and kids. Our relationships have all grown exponentially and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
2. I've had more time for God. It's often during times of need that we turn to Him. My relationship with Him has deepened, and I've found myself relying on HIM to minister to my needs rather than running around from person to person, ignoring His wisdom.
3. I've had a lot of time to reflect on myself and do some much-needed soul searching and work on issues I'd been ignoring for most of my adult life in the hopes they'd somehow disappear.
4. I'm learning how to choose friends more wisely. I was so desperate at first that I RAN to every Christian group I could find and desperately tried to begin an intimate friendship with the first woman who had kids the same ages as mine. That was not wise. I made mistakes and have learned some valuable lessons. Intimate friendships take time to grow.
God is now starting to slowly bring women into my life that I probably wouldn't have chosen myself. They're older or younger, they may or may not have kids my age or share my interests in homeschooling or music. But I'm learning to pay better attention and value people for more than similarity. While I still don't have a BFF here in this area, I'm finally okay with it. I really am. I've learned to lean more on Christ and my husband, and I'm pretty sure that is the result of the lesson I'm supposed to learn at this time.
Aundrea has been a real-life friend for 20 years. I tell you this because I know this girl is as likeable as can be; she could make friends with anybody. I've witnessed her in a variety of social situations, and she maneuvers them brilliantly. If she struggles to find friendships in this season, it's not because she's doing anything "wrong."
It's because God wants her focus elsewhere.
Friendship connections become cluttery distractions if they overshadow priorities needing attention. It's a lesson I learned kicking and screaming, but one I learned just the same.
God is the God of perfect time, and He arranges and spends it purposefully. If I've done all I can do to seek something and I still don't have it, there's a good reason. Maybe several. May I spend that time purposefully discovering what He wants me to learn in the waiting.
What have you learned while waiting on friends? On something else important in your life? What do you find to be the most difficult part of waiting?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture: Road to Easter
incourage
Moses assembled all the elders of Israel. He said, "Select a lamb for your families and slaughter the Passover lamb. Take a bunch of hyssop and dip it in the bowl of blood and smear it on the lintel and on the two doorposts. No one is to leave the house until morning. God will pass through to strike Egypt down. When he sees the blood on the lintel and the two doorposts, God will pass over the doorway; he won't let the destroyer enter your house to strike you down with ruin.
"Keep this word. It's the law for you and your children, forever. When you enter the land which God will give you as he promised, keep doing this. And when your children say to you, 'Why are we doing this?' tell them: 'It's the Passover-sacrifice to God who passed over the homes of the Israelites in Egypt when he hit Egypt with death but rescued us.'"
The people bowed and worshiped.
The Israelites then went and did what God had commanded Moses and Aaron. They did it all.
Exodus 12:21-30 {The Message Translation}.
:angel:
From Disappointment To Divine Appointment
Mar 05, 2012 Sarah Stirman
I'm a word nerd. Claimin' it.
I love new words, old words, fun words, big words. I love to make up words, too.
At my house, it seems that if you add the -age ending to a word, it makes it a little more genteel in nature, perhaps more polite in conversation.
"My chestage is so sore from that workout yesterday!" See? You can totally bring that up at your husband's fancy office dinner. Or not.
The point remains: I love words.
So it was that my thoughts drifted while taking notes in Bible study. I was initially trying to decipher how to spell the word "disappointment" while the instructor was illustrating that disappointment may lead us to God's biggest work in our lives yet.
Dis – of course that prefix means not, opposite of, away from.
Appointment — hmmm.. a role, task, assignment.
Whether or not we can spell it, the weight of the word itself brings about heaviness of heart and soul, filling the eyes with tears. We all know that disappointment feels far more heavy than a clinical discussion of the word.
You know disappointment first-hand, no doubt. The job, the child, the house, the husband, the life you were counting on in some regard didn't happen. And your heart was broken.
The last year has been a series of disappointments for our family. A job loss for my husband was unexpected. A new job then required a move for our family, which our teens let us know wasn't in their life plan. Now the new location and cost of living has me sending out resume's and applying for jobs only to hear again and again, "No thank you, you aren't quite right.." or to be told nothing at all.
Faith is leaning into the word itself and hearing Him whisper: "See? Child, I'm telling you. This isn't your appointment. This isn't what I have for you. I have so much more for you. Dry your eyes. Dust yourself off. Move on."
Is it possible that God can use my disappointment to move me to a Divine Appointment in my life?
Consider some heroes in the faith from scripture:
– Hannah, disappointed every month when she still was unable to have a child. Finally, finally... God blessed her with Samuel. Samuel that she gave back to God and who spoke for him.
– Ruth, widowed and alone, found her kinsmen-redeemer, and ended up giving birth to Obed. She has a spot in the lineage of Christ now.
– Sarah, my own namesake. Her disappointment at watching the calendar flip year after year with no children led her to desperation. She eventually would be redeemed, known as "Mother of many."
The sting of my job rejection disappointments may subside as I journey deeper in with the Lord seeking my divine appointment. I'm trusting I'll know it when I see it.
The boxes are mostly unpacked in our new home as the kids are making friends at school, and we are blessed to be employed again. (What is the grace period for living with boxes in your house after you've moved? I'm pretty sure I'm pushing it...)
The hurt of the disappointments is healing while I seek time with the Lord. My faith can be a shaky seedling some days, but I am hopeful that I will grow into His divine appointment for me.
by Sarah Stirman, The Cleft of the Rock
:angel:
You're Already Amazing – Details
Mar 05, 2012 12:31 am | Jessica Turner
We are so excited to begin reading our own Holley Gerth's You're Already Amazing as a community.
We hope this post will answer some logistical questions for you! If you have additional questions, please feel free to leave them in the comments section below and someone will be sure to respond.
What to Expect
If this is your first time reading a Bloom book – welcome! We are so glad you are here. Essentially, each week you can expect to see videos of us discussing each chapter of You're Already Amazing. :)
All posts will be on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, not weekends. The content will always be available here on the Bloom page, so feel free to watch the videos at any time if the days are not convenient for you.
We are so excited that Holley will be joining us to discuss every chapter! Mondays and Wednesdays will be chapter posts and on Fridays we will have a special freebie from Holley to go along with the book. Be prepared to be blessed. Holley really knocked our socks off.
We will also have posts in the (in)courage BlogFrog community to discuss the videos and chapters in more detail. (So be sure and sign up if you haven't yet – it's easy peasy. Just click here.)
Buy a Book, Give a Book – and Get Free Shipping!
You're Already Amazing is currently on sale for $9 on DaySpring.com.
When Angie and I first started Bloom almost two years ago, it was very important that everyone be able to participate, regardless of ability to purchase a book.
If you find yourself in a very difficult financial season and are unable to purchase a book, from Wednesday through Friday this week you can fill out a form requesting a free book. (The form will be posted on this page on Wednesday.) We ask that you please be very honest and only request a book if you truly cannot afford the $10. We only have a limited quantity to give away that largely depends on how many sponsors/donations we get.
This is where the community of Bloom beautifully shows up.
If you are able to purchase a book for someone in need, DaySpring has set up a sweet deal for you starting today.
In addition to purchasing your own book, you can choose to purchase a second book for someone in need for an additional $9. (Feel free to give more than one if you can! To purchase a "Sponsor" book,just go here, click on the image of You're Already Amazing with the green sponsor button on it and purchase the Sponsor book for $9. This option expires March 30)
If you purchase two or more books you get FREE shipping on your book – and DaySpring will take care of getting your donated book to a fellow Bloomie in need. Just use coupon code: BLOOMBOOK (If any other wonderful DaySpring products fall into your shopping cart, those will ship free too! This code will also work if you are purchasing multiple books for yourself).
We are so excited and thankful that DaySpring is again managing all the coordination of the donated books – and taking care of the shipping. What a blessing! Also a special thanks to publisher Revell, who has graciously donated 100 copies of the book to help with this effort.
With each Bloom book selection, we are always amazed by the community of women who step forward and buy books for their fellow sisters in Christ. THANK YOU to those of you who are able to generously give.
If you have additional questions about the sponsor program please visit the FAQ page.
The Schedule
If you're a list-lover like me, here's what to expect:
Wednesday, March 7: Free book post
Friday, March 9: Free book closes
Monday, March 12: Giveaway related to the book
Wednesday, March 14: Sponsor reminder
Friday, March 16: Giveaway ends/logistics re: free books
Monday, March 19: Video introducing Holley
Wednesday, March 21: Post from Holley
Friday, March 23: Reminder for study kick-off
Monday, March 26: Chapters 1 & 2
Wednesday, March 28: Chapter 3
Friday, March 30: You're Already Amazing Freebie
Monday, April 2: Chapter 4
Wednesday, April 4: Chapter 5 & 6
Friday, April 6: You're Already Amazing Freebie
Monday, April 9: Chapter 7
Wednesday, April 11: Chapter 8
Friday, April 13: You're Already Amazing Freebie
Monday, April 16: Chapter 9 & 10
Wednesday, April 18: Chapter 11
Friday, April 20: You're Already Amazing Freebie
Monday, April 23: Bonus video from Angie and Jess
Wednesday, April 25: Wrap-up from Holley
Friday, April 27: You're Already Amazing Freebie
WHEW! That was a lot of info. Thanks for sticking with us.
Love,
Angie and Jessica
:angel:
When Being Authentic Means Shutting Your Mouth
Mar 06, 2012 Emily Freeman
They called me shy. It didn't seem like a compliment. From kindergarten all the way through fourth grade, I was the quiet girl with the skinny arms. And when I did speak, it was always met with Louder. We can't hear you. The fact that my ears stuck out just made things worse for me – it fit the mouse-like stereotype a little too well.
I was a shy girl with the shy best friend. I would have stayed that way if the world hadn't ended in the fourth grade when my parents told me we were moving to Iowa. Make new friends? Are you kidding me? That means I'd have to like, talk. Still, we moved and I left my shy best friend behind.
Several years and several moves later, I had learned the fine art of becoming who everyone wanted me to be in order to be accepted. Not in the I'll-jump-off-a-bridge-too kind of way, more in a I-don't-rock-the-boat kind of a way. I watched people, learned what got on their nerves, learned what people liked and didn't like. I wasn't doing this on purpose. I just really wanted to have a lot of friends. I wanted to be seen as fun. I didn't want to miss out on anything. Shy didn't seem okay.
I often say I'm an introvert in extroverted skin. On the tests, I come out close to the middle, falling slightly on the introverted side. As someone who prefers to listen long, I've struggled through this concept of being authentic and open. I wrote about it here last month. Since then, I've thought a lot about those of us who are introverted and how it relates to authenticity, honesty, telling your story, sharing your art, living in community.
When we consider the spiritual transformation of our lives, it often means being stretched beyond what comes natural and leaning hard into what is supernatural, those things that come from God. At the same time, I can't help but wonder if learning to be open for an introvert looks different than it does for extroverts. Perhaps applying one kind of definition to authenticity is hurtful to some. Perhaps for those of us who are naturally introverted, being quiet is being authentic.
We've talked a lot about community here at (in)courage. But community might look very different depending on your personality. What does being authentic in community look like for you?
I just got Introverts in the Church by Adam S. McHugh and plan to read Quiet by Susan Cain next. Do any of you introverts have any other recommendations?
:angel:
Look Up
Mar 07, 2012 Ashley Larkin
I have a confession to make:
I harbor serious baseboard envy.
Perhaps it might be more accurately described as baseboard covetousness.
To be clear, I don't struggle that others possess better baseboards than my own. I do battle with the fact that they have baseboards at all.
I really want some.
I know it's not right.
Four years ago, on Easter weekend, we moved into our home—a 1904 fixer-upper in the very neighborhood in which we'd prayed for God's planting. A solid roof over our heads, floors that stand firm, doors that close against the wind and rain. Really, what do I have to complain about?
Over the last years, my husband and I, with young ones at our sides, have finished a basement, covered nearly every surface with fresh paint and our children's art, planted vegetable gardens, refinished stairs.
When I look up from mama scattering, piecing part of a task here with a half scrap there, I see this place is not what it once was. And I see life, joy. Such good.
Yet sometimes the lack of these baseboards, simple finishing pieces of wood defining line between wall and floor, undo me.
It's as if I believe their presence would speak completion, enough. So what do I think their absence represents?
Failure? Lack?
On occasion, when I'm particularly overwhelmed with the state of our current home, I look at photographs of our first house—a sweet little 50′s ranch. Charming and finished with its black and white checkerboard kitchen floors, tidy and colorful landscaping, sparkling picture window.
And its baseboards.
Ah, the baseboards.
But how quickly I forget. For in that house, just as in our present one, baseboards crow barred from walls to make way for hardwood floors splintered apart. And it took us three years to remodel the house and replace blanks on the walls with long pieces of wood we felt best fit the little home. Just in time for its fast sale.
On this day discouragement clings, and I shuffle slippered feet and look towards the floor and to stripes of old paint that hold the place for baseboards that should be. An unsightly view. Like a slip hanging from below a skirt, a comb forgotten in a bouffant. As if I don't know what a finished product should look like.
I pause and realize the desire to look right covers a deeper hunger to be right. Feel complete.
Then I hear words of call and blessed redirection: "Child, look up."
I do, reluctantly at first. From slippers to ceiling. It takes a while, but my frantic settles. Then it's as if arms begin a gradual breaststroke through blue and layer of cloud to the Holy One, The Perfecter and Finisher. Past my incomplete to His Fully Complete.
I stop inner grumbling. Stop comparing a false done to the true, good imperfect is. I rest in His adequacy. I hear Him.
Yes, you are undone, He says, and I am the One who finishes you.
These days, those ugly gaps are transformed.
I see them, but all is well in my soul. Once annoyances and triggers of not enough, now they remind me to look up.
Look up, past the undone and to the life, the beauty that surrounds me. Look up to my Perfecter, the Lifter of my Head. Look up to my God, who prepares for me an eternal Home.
To you He says the same: Look up, dear child. Look up.
By Ashley, at Draw Near
:angel:
Waking Up From Someone Else's Dream
Mar 07, 2012 Angela Nazworth
Big Dreams. Big is relative, but we all dream. Many of those dreams may be seeded in reality or at least in the realms of human possibility ... but we all have aspirations blended with a dose of whimsy.
I'm a dreamer. I keep mental lists of dream vacations; top 20 places to visit before I'm 50; family activities; career goals, mission activities, etc. Sadly, many of the dreams and wishes I've claimed as my own, really aren't mine at all. I named those dreams ... talked about them excitedly, and placed each one on an invisible line of dots connecting to my future. I lived like those dreams were mine, but they belonged to the girl I wanted to be, or at least the girl I thought I should become.
Somewhere along the timeline of my life – and I cannot pinpoint the exact day it happened or why it happened – I deemed myself undesirable. I knew that God loved me and that Jesus died for me, but never grasped the entire beauty that resides in that truth. Instead, I viewed myself as someone that God had to love ... and someone whom most humans would never want to get close enough to know, let alone love. And with that warped world view, I began my quest to be wanted. I began changing everything about myself ... starting with my dreams.
Since I thought myself drossy, many of my interests became guilty by association. It is not uncommon for teenage girls to want to look and act like everyone else, so at first, my confused sense of self identity was normal for someone of my age. Yet, my desire to be anyone but me grew and aged with my body and morphed into perfectionism. Knowing that no one was perfect, but thinking that everyone else was superior to me, I began to take parts of others to create the "perfect me."
My friend Casandra is a champion cleaner. Her base boards shine and counter tops glisten. Even the doorknobs on her closet doors sparkle. I added this trait to my repertoire, along with my friend Melinda's impeccable sense of style, and my friend Molly's up-beat demeanor and zeal for multitasking. I could list at least twenty-five friends and acquaintances from whom I've stolen parts of their identity and weaved them into my own.
And I didn't stop at personality traits. I added their dreams and goals to my lists as well. In fact, the sheer notion of me making a dream list to begin with was something my friend Doreen did. When she mentioned her desire to Jet Ski through the Everglades before moving from Florida, I added that to my new list. Why not? It sounds like fun, right? Actually, it does not sound like fun to me. I am terrified of alligators and have no desire to soar into their territory. It doesn't matter that the loud engine would probably scare them away...it only takes one hungry, insubordinate gator to take the bait. Yet for years, and I mean twelve long years, I honest-to-goodness thought that I would enjoy jet skiing in alligator infested waters.
While I think there is no harm in being influenced by Godly friends and acquiring positive traits and ideas, disregarding my talents, dreams, and desires was not only befuddling, it was sin. I was disobeying the voice of God and trying to recreate what He already made.
God didn't create me to imitate His other creations. He created me to serve Him with the specific qualities he gifted to me. And knowing this doesn't make me prideful or hoity-toity, it humbles me. It's OK that I don't want to teach preschool, ride a mule down the Grand Canyon, or deep sea dive.
God also did not create me to be perfect this side of heaven. If assigned mass and tied to a string, my character flaws, quirky habits, and sins would circle the planet at least once. But God did create me for a purpose, and I will never discover or live up to that purpose if keep exchanging my character traits for those of another. It's simply unacceptable for me to hide who I am and yearn to be who I am not.
I still struggle with who I am, but each day I try to take every ounce of my flesh, every molecule of my soul, every pound of baggage, and each and every one of my dreams and I am lay them down – without shame – at the throne of the Holy of Holies. For with His masterful hands, He will use all I am and all I can become for His glory. And that is my dream.
"But that's no life for you. You learned Christ! My assumption is that you have paid careful attention to him, been well instructed in the truth precisely as we have it in Jesus. Since, then, we do not have the excuse of ignorance, everything—and I do mean everything—connected with that old way of life has to go. It's rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life—a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you. What this adds up to, then, is this: no more lies, no more pretense. Tell your neighbor the truth. In Christ's body we're all connected to each other, after all. When you lie to others, you end up lying to yourself."
Ephesians 4:17-25 (The Message)
Read more thoughts by Angela Nazworth at WombWoven.
:angel:
Simply Amazing
Mar 06, 2012 01:12 pm | Mary Carver
A couple weeks ago, I worked on a project with a new friend. My responsibilities weren't as simple as I thought they'd be, and I found myself wondering if I was the right person for the job. I felt uncertain and nervous, anxious to prove myself and do a good job but unsure exactly how to make that happen. Midway through the project, I talked with my friend briefly and she said, "You. Are. Awesome! You're doing great work! Keep it up! Thank you so much!"
She couldn't have been more encouraging, and I was so thankful. Her faith in me gave me the boost I needed to keep plugging along and finish the difficult project well. What's more is that her appreciation and kind words helped me later frame the entire experience as a good one, rather than finish feeling defeated and disappointed.
Don't laugh, but I even saved the text message my friend sent me. It read, "You? Are Amazing," and when my phone informed me that my inbox was overflowing, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of that little love note.
We could all use a little more encouragement in our lives, couldn't we?
If you've ever met me, you won't be surprised to learn that I was quite a dramatic teenager. I can still hear my mom's voice from those tumultuous years, saying, "Life's not fair, baby," and "The world does not revolve around you." Though I'm not [quite] as emotional and selfish as I was back then, my ears still ring with those statements that, as I've gotten older, have proven to be so true. This world is not on my side, and sometimes it's just downright unfair.
So it's easy enough to find disheartening messages. Look around or listen for just a minute, and you'll see and hear criticisms and comparisons that leave us discouraged and feeling less-than and not-as-good-as. That's why it's so important to surround ourselves with messages of hope and love and plain old encouragement.
Holley Gerth's new book, You're Already Amazing and coordinating product line, offers that kind of encouragement. In the sweet voice of a friend who knows you – and loves you – well, Holley helps you understand and embrace the truth that as a woman, you do not need to do more, be more, and have more – because you are already amazing just the way God created you to be.
After reading those words, I felt like I needed to read them over and over again, just to remind myself of these beautiful truths I so easily forget. Just like pulling out my phone and reading that text message again, surrounding myself with the words and images from the You're Already Amazing line is good for my heart.
Surely I'm not the only one who forgets how amazing she is, right? Do you need to be reminded that you, too, are truly and simply amazing – so amazing that God loves you just the way you are, right here, right now?
Let me remind you: You are already amazing. You are wonderfully made. You are perfectly loved.
Do you surround yourself with encouraging words? What helps you remember that you are already amazing?
PS– Did you see that You're Already Amazing is the the next Bloom study pick! Tune in here for details!
:angel:
Beauty In Waiting
Mar 08, 2012 Jennifer
As winter comes to an end, I think about the bulbs we put into the earth months ago. Holes dug, bulbs lovingly placed, covered with soil. Put to rest until spring. If we plant them at any other time, they would not grow. There would be no blooms. They need all that time in the ground, in the dark. Resting. Waiting.
But only for a time.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens... Ecclesiastes 3:1
At times I feel that twinge of impatience about something, but I try to remember there is a time for everything. Practice patience.
Sometimes I begin to feel overwhelmed, but I remind myself that this is just a busy time, a busy season. It will pass.
At times I focus on concerns about this and that. Questioning and wondering, but I remind myself I do not need to worry. He knows.
Soon there will be blooms. The time will come for these little bulbs to burst out of the soil and shine. God reminds me that there is a time for everything. This is His answer to my concerns and impatience and questioning.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiastes 3:11
There is beauty in the waiting. Like those bulbs waiting patiently until it is their time to shine. He is working in me... in ways I can not see or fully understand. In the quiet and dark times, things are happening. Growing is happening. Changes are happening. Even if we do not see them.
In time, at the right time, in His time, we will see. This gives me comfort and so much hope! I do not have to see to know. I do not have to seek immediate gratification because things are coming.
In His time for me, I will see.
He has a time for us. Perfect timing. We just need to wait and trust. He will bring us what is best for us in its time. With this hope, I have no reason to hurry. I can take time for the life moments that are all important. The little moments that can be rushed by all too easily. With this hope, I understand. Whether it be a season of waiting or a season of blooming, He makes it all beautiful.
I feel I am in a season of waiting and that is ok. I trust there is a reason. Do you find yourself in a time of waiting or time of blooming? With His help, are you finding the patience in your season?
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
Let Him Dream for You
Mar 09, 2012 Stephanie Bryant
There is a big difference between doing something for God and working with Him.
He plants a dream, an idea, inspiration, in each us. When we're young, or today, that is His size. {Why wouldn't it be, since it's from Him?}
And that's the key.
A God-sized dream isn't our idea. It can't be. It would be man-made sized and not big enough to hold the very thing that we want to give Him, that He's created us for – glory.
Once it's planted and is recognized as such, a God-sized dream can't be accomplished by us. It's impossible without God showing up in His timing and perfect power, sometimes with eleventh hour timing.
These dreams that are God-sized, they are the only kind to think about. Remembering. . .
Sometimes it takes years to deliberate.
Sometimes it looks very different than anyone else's.
Sometimes it transforms as we grow, in body and spirit.
Sometimes it's not what or how we planned {or really want for ourselves.}
Sometimes it takes considering how He really sees us before we can even begin to connect our heart with His imagination.
Haven't we all created plans that seemed to the world they could be from the Creator? Haven't we wanted to solve the issues of our day, but were only frustrated by lack of 'I have a good plan for you' power? Haven't we tried to serve God by our good works that weren't ours' to do?
When we realize God's thoughts are not our thoughts. {He tells us that.} His ways aren't our ways. {We like it fast and big. Or maybe really slow. . .in the end, not at all.}When we understand He doesn't need our service, only our love.
That God's creativity and imagination are beyond our universe, but free flowing for us. His voice requires lean-in listening, soft and delicate most occasions. {And can at moments be confused with our own voice that says we're crazy for thinking that.}
We can only then begin to believe He has a role, a God-sized dream expressed, for us to fulfill. That role can be a part of the body that may be covered, not recognized, small or a I-never-asked-for-this-center-stage role.
Either way it's not our idea. It's not our dream. It's His through us.
It's truly God-sized, God-breathed, God-thought-of, only waiting to fill a willing vessel.
He dreamt of you. Planned for you.
Will you let Him dream for you?
:angel:
Uncomfortable
Mar 09, 2012 Kelli
I walk along, the path lit only by the sliver of moonlight and a few streetlamps along the way. It's quiet, peaceful, serene. I look up through the swaying palm fronds to see a sky bursting with flickering lights. It takes my breath away and I stop and whisper to everything and no one.
"Who am I, that You are mindful of me?"
Lowering my gaze, I look out over the pond. Lights from nearby houses dance off the water to the rhythm of the bull frogs. Everything is so terribly perfect and yet here I stand...uncomfortable.
I've been uncomfortable for awhile now. Uncomfortable with where I am and what I'm doing. Uncomfortable with life and my surroundings. I've just had an overwhelming sense of isolation, despite the fact that I'm surrounded by people. And you know what?
This is exactly where He wants me.
Six months ago, our little family packed up and moved away from everything and everyone we knew and loved. We left comfort and, like a flock of birds, we migrated South. And life became uncomfortable. My husband began a knew job in a new territory. I began homeschooling our children for the first time in an area where I had no contacts. I don't know what I'm doing and I'm constantly questioning and doubting. I'm uncomfortable.
We've tried countless churches and one after another just hasn't felt right. We miss being known – that feeling of walking into a place and knowing that you don't have to smile if you don't feel like smiling.
We're uncomfortable.
Even together, my husband and I have had to learn all over again what it means to work for marriage. We had been so comfortable before. Our routine was so packed with all the things that made us tick and move that life was easy.
Now it's not. It's uncomfortable. Despite the palm trees and the nearby beach (which is ten shades of awesome, by the way), we still feel lost and a little alone. We still look at one another and wonder...will it always feel this way?
Even God Himself seems a little more silent. As I walk, the warm winter air blowing over me, I try to lay these thoughts and feelings and burdens down, but I'm distracted. The dog starts barking at a mystery animal in the brush (which growls back, by the way...what the heck IS that?!), a frog leaps out in front of me on the path causing me to jump and yelp, laughter floats across the pond from a nearby house and I wonder what's happening that resulted in such a delightful reaction.
All these things work together to distract me. I can't pray. I'm uncomfortable talking about my discomfort. Even with my God.
But I'm also hopeful and watchful – more so than I have ever been. I look closely at His Creation in a way that I haven't in a long time. I listen for His voice more closely than I have in many years. I wait for Him, for the soothing balm to my aching soul.
I long to find comfort in His arms. I am seeking Him where not so long ago, I merely gave Him a passing glance. He took me away from everything that made me comfortable – everything that made me feel whole – and He has placed me in a place where I feel vulnerable and unsure of myself.
I don't understand. I'm uncomfortable. And yet the only thing I can think to say, over and over, is Who am I, that You are mindful of me?
Who am I?
Comfort awaits, I know that it does. I won't always feel out of place, unsure and uncomfortable. But for now, as I dwell in the place where He has set me, I simply listen to the majesty of His creation and marvel at the glory of His name. Somewhere, amidst all the listening and waiting, Comfort whispers softly.
:angel:
Give God Your Art
Mar 10, 2012 Dawn Camp
Most children love to color, draw, paint, create. Mine do. I did. Somewhere along the way, however, I not only ceased to believe that I was capable of creating art, but that it would even be worthy of display or notice if I did.
I'm logical and analytical by nature, skills that served me well enough in school—and life—for a time. I could solve a problem; compose an essay; or ace a test like nobody's business. I began college at an Ivy League school; put my faith in my brain and intellect; and didn't pay much attention to art beyond what could be found in a book or museum.
Then a funny thing happened about six years ago: I wanted my crayons back.
I yearned to write again. Not essays that tested my ability to analyze literature or history, but stories, memories: my family's history. Then I started designing blogs and fell in love with Photoshop. Blog design provided the money to buy my first DSLR and I. was. hooked. This ability to capture a moment and then brush and crop and edit it to reveal life the way I see it: that's heady stuff for a girl whose artistic creativity lay dormant for so many years.
Last year I made a conscious decision to give God my blog. Basically, I asked Him to show me how to use it to better serve Him. I wrote a 31 Days series that combined scripture and photography, and overall produced more faith-based content than in my other five years of blogging put together.
This year I vowed to give God my art. Obviously I've always looked to Him for inspiration—I ask Him to guide my eye and my hand and protect my equipment—but this is a deeper, more reverent desire and its impact has been powerful, a creative high.
I'm working through fear of failure and pursuing dreams: creating, printing, opening my own shop.
Your art probably looks different than mine. It might be produced with a skillet; a hammer; paint and canvas; a musical instrument; or a keyboard. One of my best friends sautés and simmers art in the kitchen. Another designs jewelry, and forms and decorates grand cakes. Another is a masterful planner and organizer and has developed skills that enable her to help children with speech problems.
I believe God gives us an inner desire to compose, conceive, or construct in some way.
Lay your art upon His alter and see if it's returned to you, multiplied.
How do you create (or are you like me, allowing your art to lie dormant)? Do you have a passion you're ready to pursue or a story of how God's blessed your creativity?
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture: Road to Easter
Jesus Predicts His Death
He then began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again. He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter. "Get behind me, Satan!" he said. "You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns."
The Way of the Cross
Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said:
"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.
What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?
If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of them when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels."
Mark 8:31-38
:angel:
You're Already Amazing {Good Reads Giveaway x10!}
Mar 12, 2012 incourage
Oh, how we are looking forward to walking through each chapter of You're Already Amazing with our very own Holley Gerth!
With this heart-to-heart message, Holley invites you to embrace one very important truth– that you truly are already amazing. Like a trusted friend, Holley gently shows you how to forget the lies and expectations the world feeds you and instead believe that God loves you and has bigger plans for your life than you've even imagined.
So grab your copy of You're Already Amazing, find someplace comfy, and join us the next few weeks as we study chapter by chapter with Jessica, Angie, and Holley.
Holley will be joining us next week, with the full chapter studies starting on Monday, March 26th. You can view the full schedule here.
We'd also love for you to consider purchasing a sponsor book for someone who would like to join in on the study but can't afford the book. We've heard countless stories of how YOU have blessed others by purchasing a sponsor book. We have MANY people requesting a copy, and not enough sponsored books have been purchased. You can buy a sponsored copy for only $9– purchase two books and get free shipping with code: BLOOMBOOK. Please read our FAQ page if you have questions on how the book is shipped, shipping costs, etc.
We're celebrating the beginning of the book study with a fun giveaway from a brand new line by DaySpring inspired by the new book!
Isn't that tote just AH-mazing? You can win the whole collection just by leaving a comment below, sharing about one lovely lady who has made an amazing difference in your life. We'll pick TEN winners and announce them on Friday.
With love,
The Bloom (in)courage team
P.S. – You can receive 25% off any regular priced item from the Heart to Heart with Holley collection all month long. Just use code: HOLLEYG25 at checkout!
:angel:
Honey of Communion {Sunrise in the Trauma Ward}
Mar 12, 2012 Alyssa
"In the lion of trial we find the honey of communion." Charles Spurgeon {1834-1892}
"Pull the curtain back," I whispered.
Isabella, my daughter, uncurled her body from the vinyl foldout bed the hospital provided for overnight guests, stretching as she stepped toward the expansive picture window.
The view from my fifth-floor trauma ward window was stunning. We faced a faded indigo southern sky infused with a predawn glow pricked by black pine and maple tree silhouettes now paling into green.
photo-bella santos
Sunrise again.
The honeyed light cut through sleepy low clouds and touched the tips of nodding trees and quiet rooftops, like a mother brushing a stray curl from her child's forehead.
Even the busy hospital was quieted by early morning. It seemed we were in on a secret, as if we were invited to an invitation-only premier.
I pressed a button and raised the back of my bed, adjusted my pillows and waited.
I imagined the chatter of birds, awake long before the sun made its appearance. I imagined the distant turn of a car engine. I imagined the watery, green scent of dew-drenched grass.
I watched fire rise and change the world with a newfound gratitude and tried to breathe deep, slow breaths. The lung was healing.
This interval of sunrise eclipsed the pain from my injuries, a gift of grace savored silently.
"Do you want coffee?" Isabella asked, but her movements told me the question was rhetorical.
She pulled from her bag of whole bean coffee, a grinder; she began boiling water in a traveling teakettle. I broke from my reverie and turned to watch my girl—almost a woman—and the decade of ballet training revealed in her every movement. Unaware of my gaze, she seemed to me a dancer on a stage, performing this domestic task out of its homey context.
The coffee ground and released its perfume. Steam swirled above a low rumbling boil.
My hospital room smelled like home and I swallowed tears.
I grasped for each second as it passed, but my hands held only mist that evaporates with the rising sun.
Isabella placed a mug of freshly pressed coffee, rich with cream, into my hands.
photo-bella santos
With my daughter at my side and the honeyed light of dawn set alight on our faces, we watched our future rise.
"I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." Isaiah 42:16b-17
#
Friend, sometimes we find ourselves in the dark. Death looms, disease destroys, obligations overwhelm and fear threatens to flood our souls. But there is a light, the Very Light proclaimed to Israel long ago:
"Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you." (Isaiah 60:1)
Your light has come. Jesus, the Light of the World, came for all of us. As the glory of the Lord rises upon us, we only need to arise and reflect his light.
Arise. Sit up and take notice. Set your face to the dawn, take the cup given to you.
Partake of this honeyed communion, borne of this lion of trial...or loneliness...or loss.
Be saturated in the light of his glory and face this future, even this exceeding darkness, illumined by the truth of God's promise: He will turn your darkness into light and smooth your rough roads. These are the things he will do. He will not forsake you.
#
Share your story with us. What darkness are your facing? What promise has become your light? What is your honey?
:angel:
I remember the first time I watched a full-fledged, 1980s, gratuitous horror movie.
It was "Nightmare on Elm Street," the one with the school bus and all the teenagers end up in hell or something. It was terrible. I'd been invited to a seventh grade slumber party at Jessica Monroe's house and as we all settled into our sleeping bags, one of the girls hit PLAY on the VHS player.
I'd never seen anything like it in my life.
My parents kept me sheltered from certain shows on TV and we had a rule that we weren't allowed to watch "anything with guns in it." And even though my sister and I had sneaked viewings of different scary stuff, this rattled me to my core.
By the time Freddie Kreuger had shed his razor nails for the last time, almost all of the girls had fallen asleep. Except me. I was awake, alone in a sea of slumbering 13 year olds in a strange house.
I'm not sure if I slept at all that night. I was absolutely terrified.
I hate scary. Whether it is a result of experiences like that or just how my personality is put together, I hate the element of fear and disgust that many Americans thrive on.
I am not a fan of haunted houses. I hate scary movies. So I have lived most of my life avoiding what would put fear into my heart.
This kind of fear went beyond skipping the October parties of my friends and bled over into my life choices. Many of my youthful decisions were made based on fear. I feel like I'm only learning NOW, in my adulthood how to do scary things, and how to, with steeled face, approach terrifying situations with courage.
I believe it can be very simple: leaning INTO the fear and leaning ON what you know to be true.
It isn't always simplistic in the midst of the scary, but the only way to get through something most of the time is, well, through it. Not around it or beneath it. Not above it or with deft side stepping moves. Through.
Leaning IN to fear means letting yourself do that thing that terrifies you. It's pulling off the band-aid, so to speak. Leaning into it means you breathe deeply, close your eyes, and rest in the fact that this is all out of your control. Leaning into fear is the choice to do something fear-inducing because it's good for you, you'll be a better person if you do, and it will give you courage for the next time.
Leaning ON what you know is true is as simple as it reads. The plane won't crash because few do. My children won't die because most children live to adulthood. I won't get attacked because crime has been down in the city. I won't be alone because at the end of it all, I'll still have Christ.
{Knowing that bad things DO happen, I'm addressing the irrational fears that control many of us, wake us up in the middle of the night and hijack our minds and hearts.}
Leaning on God and leaning on truth helps to bring the irrationality of fear back to the rational truth of Jesus. That He cares for YOU. That He loves YOU. And that He'll never leave YOU.
With that, with His perfect love, there is no fear.
Last month my husband and I traveled to Peru with Compassion International. I wasn't scared of leaving the country without my kids and I wasn't really scared of traveling. I wasn't fearful of dangerous situations or of the crazy drivers in the city of Lima. I was, however, fearful that seeing that kind of poverty would forever change me.
For months leading up to it I wondered at that and I was scared.
I decided that I must lean in to it and lean on what I knew to be true. As I leaned into that fear, I decided that I must go and as I went I would open my eyes and my heart to what God would teach me. I leaned on to the truths that I knew God had taught me thus far.
That His grace was sufficient.
That He would provide for each of us.
That even in change, He would walk me through.
I don't watch many scary movies these days but I've been trying to do the things that are scary in order that I may lean more heavily on Jesus.
by Sarah Markley who's heart is still in Peru,
who knows what it's like to be scared out of her mind
and who would love to see the cycle of poverty broken in Latin America.
Do you embrace the "scary?" How do you conquer fearful situations?
:angel:
My Amazing Friends
Mar 13, 2012 Mary Carver
A few weeks ago, I noticed that the two books I'm studying with two different small groups have way more in common than I had realized. You know what else? The women in those groups have way more in common that I'd realized, too.
Though the books are about two completely different topics, the themes are startlingly similar. And though the women in my small groups are from two separate churches, the hurts, struggles and experiences shared during our discussions echo each other in uncanny ways.
In both cases the women in my groups struggle with insecurity and fight a never-good-enough mentality. I'm not really surprised at the parallel natures of these groups of friends, because this is my challenge, too. It doesn't take too much self analysis to figure out why I was attracted to both the studies and the women.
But what has struck me – and stuck with me – is that I'm not the only one fighting the demons of doubt. My friends are hurting, too.
No matter how many times, week after week, these women share their hearts and hurts with me, though, I'm surprised every time.
I can't believe she struggles with that, too!
Doesn't she know how incredible she is?
How can she doubt herself like that? She's awesome!
All this time, I thought I was the only one . . .
No, I'm not the only one who has a hard time remembering that I am loved and wonderfully made, just as I am. It turns out the amazing women in my life sometimes forget it, too.
Thinking about this universal struggle while reading Holley's book (You're Already Amazing: Embracing Who You Are, Becoming All God Created You to Be) and shopping the beautiful line of products that go with it – all this has made me want to run up to each of these incredible women, grab their arms and shout, "You are amazing! No, really! You ARE!"
You are wonderful, a beautiful creation from God!
You are enough, just as you are!
You don't need to do anything. I love who you ARE, not what you DO.
You. Are. Amazing!
I could list all the ways, all the tangible things that make each of the women in my small groups amazing. It would be a long, beautiful list. But the truth is – the truth that I need to remember myself – we are unique, amazing creations made and loved by God. No need to add "who does this" or "who always says that." We are amazing. The end.
Who do you know who needs to hear that she's already amazing?
If you are reviewing items from Holley's Collection OR You're Already Amazing in part of the Revell Blog Tour, link up your review below!
P.S. Stephanie wrote about this same thing on Holley's blog this week. If you've written about an amazing woman in your life, link up over there and share it with us here, too!
Read More | Leave a Comment
When You Don't Feel Beautiful
Mar 13, 2012 Kristen Welch
I stood in the baby aisle at Target, overdue with my first child. Every inch swollen with expectancy. I read labels of diaper ointment and rubbed the foot kicking my side.
Someone stood beside me. I could feel her staring at my profile. I pointed my belly towards her and smiled. She leaned in and said the words like I took her breath away, "Oh, you're so beautiful."
I looked down at my too-tight shirt and tugged it over my child. I couldn't see my feet, but I knew the flesh pressed out of my sandals.
Me? I looked around the empty aisle.
I smiled shyly, smoothing my messy hair. How I longed to hear those words and not just because I was awkward and uncomfortable. I never felt like a beautiful girl. Cute, sometimes pretty, but never beautiful.
And then she tried to sell me Mary Kay.
My face flamed. I dropped the butt paste and turned, leaving my cart and my pride in the baby aisle.
I believed the stranger for a second and then it was back to self-loathing.
I continued to pass mirrors without looking and tried to disappear in a room full of pretty people.
It was years before I believed I was beautiful. It was years before I realized beauty had nothing to do with my complexion or eyebrow shape or latest fashion.
Ralph Waldo Emerson says beauty is an outward gift, but I believe true beauty on the outside begins when we love ourselves on the inside. It is perfected when we love others more than ourselves.
"Beauty is not in the face, beauty is a light in the heart." -Khalil Gibran
Beautiful isn't a feeling. It's His light in our hearts making us glow. When I started taking care of the inside, loving myself, others more, that's when I started to feel beautiful.
I am getting older: my hair is turning gray, laugh lines (wrinkles) are evident and my once-firm body, isn't.
But then I remember:
"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised." Proverbs 31:3
I watch my 12 year old daughter. She is in the discovery stage. She fixes and primps and seeks out beauty in the mirror. I pull her close at night, we read, talk, I pour into her: Beauty on the outside isn't bad, but what are we doing to make the inside match?
I ran my fingers thru her hair the other night and ask: "Would you rather be gorgeous on the outside and just okay inside or stunning on the inside and okay on the outside?"
She said, "Can I be both?"
Source: etsy.com via Angie on Pinterest
I laughed and said yes. But I gave her a challenge. One I want to offer to you:
For every minute, hour you spend primping and beautifying the outside- your hair, clothes, body, etc. I want you spend that same amount of time on the inside.
I reminded her it's not just about doing good works: it's putting others first, serving, encouraging and forgiving. Inner beauty comes from accepting our weaknesses and offering them to God. Beauty is seen in being genuine and spending time with God. It's about who you are when no one is looking. It's about fearing God.
And now I'm talking to me.
Because odds are I will wake up tomorrow and catch a glimpse in the mirror and wonder if I'm beautiful.
My answer will have nothing to do with my appearance.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
I hoard shampoo.
Well, I did for a few months anyway.
It all started when, after eight years of marriage, my husband Ted and I found ourselves sharing a bathroom for the first time.
How did we go that long with his and hers? It boiled down to multiple bathrooms and young children who cared little about sink or drawer space.
The problem is, though, that not sharing for all those years brought with it mystery. I found myself often wondering, What would it be like to share? Would it bring us closer together?
With relocation, came my opportunity to find out. Little did I know it would lead me into a life of hoarding.
Something happened that my dreamy-eyed, new-bathroom-sharing self didn't anticipate. I begin to notice that my face wash – the natural scrub that I ration to make last as long as possible – started to disappear more quickly than usual. Was I really consuming that much all of a sudden?
Then it struck me. Ted was using my face wash – without asking!
For me, sharing in marriage didn't include my favorite face wash – at least not without permission first. I quickly confronted him on the issue. The result? Well, my complaints didn't gain me much. To this day, he still uses my face wash – just a bit more sparingly.
I admit, I walked away cynical. I started to wonder if anything was sacred in the bathroom. What was next? My toothbrush?
When I found my favorite brand of professional shampoo on sale, I stocked up. And then I ... well ... hid the bottles under the bathroom sink behind a box. I'd slip my shampoo into the shower when I needed it and then I'd dry it off and hide it again once I was done.
The truth is I was afraid if I shared it, it would be gone quickly and I wouldn't have the funds to buy more. Plus, Ted didn't care that much about the type of shampoo he used, did he?
A few weeks into my new habit, I realized that my hoarding reflected something deeper than I cared to admit. After two years characterized by loss — miscarriage, two lay-offs, multiple moves, and a house that refused to sell — there was a part of me that feared God wouldn't take care of me. This fear had translated into my bathroom habits.
It was then that I was reminded of Psalm 34:8-9 where David wrote:
Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! Oh, fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear him have no lack!
In my shampoo hoarding, I'd forgotten God's goodness. I'd failed to remember the ways He'd cared for me through difficulty. Sure, we'd experienced multiple losses in the last couple years, but God had sustained and provided for us time and time again.
We'd received money from strangers.
Friends and acquaintances brought us food.
Family members had cared for our house in our absence.
We'd been given clothes for our kids.
We weren't once without health insurance.
After each lay-off, it had only been a month or two before Ted found new work.
More times than I could count, we'd been the recipients of "no lack!"
While part of me misses the days of having my own bathroom, I've learned to co-exist in one with Ted. And, I no longer hoard shampoo. Instead, it sits, front and center, in our shower just begging him to use it.
By Ashleigh Slater
Read More | Leave a Comment
Detour Ahead
Mar 14, 2012 01:10 am | Mary Carver
Last summer I drove several hours out of state for a funeral. I had my three-year-old daughter with me, so I was a bit restricted on just how early I could leave, but according to the directions I'd printed out from the internet, we had just enough time to drive 300 miles, stop for lunch and take one bathroom break.
Getting lost was not on the agenda.
About two-thirds of the way there, I realized my directions were leading us astray. Though Google Maps said I should have turned by now, the road to turn on was nowhere in sight. So, I kept driving.
Well, driving and mumbling, which led my inquisitive passenger to ask (repeatedly), "Mommy, are we lost? Are we there? What are you saying? Why are we going this way? Should we stop for directions?"
After I drove for several miles without seeing the road my directions told me to take, I finally gave up and turned around. I drove back into the nearest town, stopped at a Subway and asked the first person to make eye contact for help. She kindly informed me that we had, of course, been driving the right way and just needed to keep going.
I hurried my kiddo back into her car seat and got back on the highway. Eventually we came to a detour sign and took a two-lane paved road into the corn. We drove for what seemed like hours without seeing another sign. Every mile that passed raised my blood pressure a bit more, convincing me that a) we were certainly headed the wrong way and b) if my car broke down, nobody would ever find us.
We drove through the countryside, seeing nothing but corn and seemingly deserted farmhouses, for about 30 minutes. [No, it was not hours. But like I said, it really felt like it!] Then, thankfully, I saw a second detour sign. We turned onto another state road and . . . did the same thing all over again.
Again with the acres of corn with no detour sign in sight! Again with the uncertainty of knowing if we were truly headed in the right direction! Again with the never knowing if we'd ever arrive at our destination!
Of course we did arrive – with a good half hour to spare, even. But remembering that story got me thinking. That scary detour through the corn is a lot like life, isn't it?
Realizing that you've followed your directions only to end up in uncharted territory?
Looking around and not recognizing any landmarks, but feeling unsure if you should keep going or turn around?
Following one little detour sign down a frightening path, wishing for more confirmation or direction?
Finally spotting another sign, only to end up going down another scary road?
I've certainly found myself lost and trying to follow life's detours before. Quitting my can't-believe-they-pay-me-for-this job to go to graduate school, which I ended up hating, was one. Admitting I'm called to be a writer, even though I don't know what exactly I'm supposed to write about, is another.
Maybe your detour is a painfully long adoption process or the frustratingly slow baby steps to get out of debt. Maybe you're driving blind on the road to your master's degree or trying to figure out how to be content and confident as a stay-at-home mom.
I don't know what your detour is, but I know the One who drew the map – detours and all. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)
It's true. No matter how far off course we get or how deserted our road may seem, God knows where we're headed. He knows that we'll reach our destination – or, rather, His destination for us.
Are you following a detour right now? Have you ever wondered where God is leading you?
:angel:
The Importance of Being the Prodigal Parent
Ann Voskamp
I don't know who said you couldn't, but they were dead wrong.
You could be death wish over a toilet, a flagrant sinner over a credit card, a Pharisee over a pulpit, and it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter a hill of beans.
And it's a hill I'd die on, because that's exactly why a Carpenter really did: whoever you are, wherever you've been, whatever you've done and whatever story you own — you can always come home again.
Waiting at the gate, looking for him, it's why I'm thinking about a bone marrow transplant –
so he knows the truth of that right in the center of his bones too.
I keep craning the neck every time that automatic door slides open, looking for those blue eyes of his behind ever swollen suitcase.
Watch the arriving flights blink up on the screen.
Heart ballooning joy when I see that the Indonesian flight via Seoul flight had landed and he's here. He's somewhere under this roo
It's like labor and delivery all over again and I just need a door to open up so I can behold his face.
Why hadn't someone told me that a mother's labor and delivery never ends and you never stop having to remember to breathe?
He should be at baggage claim by now. Did the father of the Prodigal son, did his neck strain like this?
What if a son comes home with no news that any father wants to know?
When he walks through that door, I don't care what I look like and, I've witnessed it — mothers can be hurricanes of happiness. I descend. Fling arms open wide and it catches him off guard; he flashes a grin, a grace, "Hey Mom."
How can just that one "Hey Mom" be so unexpectedly, exquisitely vulnerable?
How can you look up to your child and see right there, the same infant you swaddled close and how in the world can time have anything on the wisdom of mothers who refuse to let any circumstance cloud their memory of that first love?
And no, I don't get any snapshots of any of this; sometimes the best way to frame a holy moment is to simply live fully in it.
We talk at the same time. I ask him how the missionaries were, how his uncle and aunt running the quest house were, if he remembered to change his shirts.
He tells me that he had mudfest down at a river, worked with men wearing nothing but body paint and a dangling gourd, and he lost his boarding passes for one of the flights in Indonesia but they let him on board anyways.
He's grinning like his father, like he knows it now, that the worst mistakes can be just the beginning the best memories. I think he's at least an inch taller.
His nose is peeling from how many days in the sun. Why do kids keep molting into someone new?
All the way up the escalator, he tells me of teaching Bible stories to kids up near the tribe and I'm listening and I'm not and he stops.
"Mom?" he steadies his luggage on the steps. "What are you thinking, Mom?"
It's so good to hear his voice.I don't want him to stop talking. And I look at this boy taller than I am, browned with the sun of the world, and what I want to tell him is that I'm thinking of when he was two.
When his father would throw him high up and away, straight into the air, and he'd belly laugh, suspended in full space just for a moment, just above us. And I'd touch his father on the shoulder and say, "Be careful — just don't lose him."
"Look." His father would say, arms outstretched. "Look how I just have to open my arms. And he comes back to me." And he'd fall into his father's arms and together they'd laugh in the reunion and I can still hear them. "Just keep the arms open. He always returns."
I know there are no guarantees that anyone comes home again.
I know sometimes what messes our life up most — is the expectation of what our life is supposed to look like. Entitlement can leave you feeling entirely empty.
I know the He only means everything to reshape us and nothing to reduce us.
"Just..." I reach over to pick up his bag at the top of the escalator and I don't know how to say this or why it even matters because he's just come home from a mission's trip and his eyes are all lit and he can't stop smiling.
He's hardly the prodigal but I want to kill the fattened calf and celebrate the miracle of return and how do I make sure he always knows?
"Just — no matter what story you're carrying," We pause at the top of the stairs and I reach over and grab his arm, the closest thing I've got to a bone marrow transplant. "Know you can always, always, always come home."
Who, if you knew their whole story, wouldn't you love?
He nods and forget wondering if maybe someday, some son will be a prodigal. Forget wondering if someday some prodigal son will come home again.
Forget that.
Because I"m the Prodigal.
I've been the Wayward Prodigal Parent. Prodigal in the negative sense. The wasteful one. Irresponsible in my spending.
The Prodigal Parent who's extravagantly wasted too many gold moments, too much priceless time, too much of my spiritual inheritance on the blinking and the shiny and the fleeting. He takes his bag from my hand and I have no idea how his shoulders got so broad. We only inherit so much time.
How do you live so that when your kids think of the Grace of the Gospel, they think of you?
That's the crux of the thing: By being the Wholehearted Prodigal Parent. Prodigal in the positive sense. The lavish one. Extravagantly, sacrificially abundant in my giving.
The Prodigal Parent who extravagantly loves, recklessly spending on sacrifice. The Prodigal Parent who wastes time waiting up, listening for, praying long.
The Prodigal Parent who lives this lavish mercy, this opulent, offensive grace.
I look over at my boy come home. Why hadn't someone told me that parenting was less about avoiding prodigals but more about becoming a better Prodigal parent?
"Mom?" Our son's walks ahead of me towards the parking garage. "When we get home, I've got to tell you all this story about the blow gun and the rats."
I shake my head, chuckling. His father will laugh, I know this.
His son whose flown high up and away, falling back into his open arms.
That would be the last picture he would show us from his travels, the photo of the church there in Indonesia.
And I would trace my finger over it and our son, he'd flash that grin, and we'd laugh again.
That rainbow would arch over everything, all us fallen ones —
falling back into the arms of the Prodigal God
::
~ Ann Voskamp.... from one Prodigal to another
Related posts:
The first segment of this story: What a Parent Needs to Say to a Child Before They Leave
Second segment: When you're worried while they're gone: What to do in Hard Times
Q4U: How are you Prodigal?
How could you become a better Prodigal?
What's your Prodigal Parenting story?
Concerned about a Prodigal? How can we pray for a prodigal in your life today?
Email readers and RSS readers — Come join the conversation by clicking here?
{Twitter Party Tonight!
You can always come home to the Body, the community of sisters.
Will you join us for a party at Twitter tonight? For the launch of our agenda for the (in)RL conference? Come hear about the whole amazing itinerary, of what is exactly happening and when and be part of the joy of Coming Home to Him and His daughters — right where you are! 10pm EST, Twitter, for all the details– come just as you beautifully are! We're tweeting under hashtag #inRL — and we're all just a bunch of prodigals — learning to be like our Prodigal God and extravagantly love and reach out in real life. We can't wait to meet you tonight!}
:angel:
Hope For Marriages
I visited my eight-year widowed grandmother this weekend. It still shocks me to see her without my grandfather by her side. They were a matched pair, a perfect set, now waiting for the beautiful day they will be reunited. And she limps along with a smile, but with the gait of one who is missing half of herself.
I came home to wave at my one-week widowed neighbor. The grief is still too new, too raw to process. For how do you even decide alone what to eat for breakfast when you've been making decisions together for sixty-four years?
And then yesterday I heard the tale I've listened to so many times, told with tears running down the face and exhaustion in the eyes. The details change a little depending on the teller, but the stories are all pretty much the same. How the marriage started well, but has slowly died and is heading to the place beyond hope of resurrection. How wounds have been inflicted and trust has been broken. How love was taken for granted and priorities were shifted. How they wish it could change, but just don't see how.
And I can't help seeing those two women while I listen. Two women who would give anything to be held once more by the man whose socks once littered their bedroom floor. The same two women who will tonight go to bed alone instead of beside the snore that kept them awake for countless hours. The two women who now have only themselves to cook dinner for.
What would those women say in this moment?
I think they would say it's worth it. Your marriage is worth it. It's worth fighting for. It's worth hurting for. It's worth sacrificing for. It's worth healing.
I think they would say that the best marriage you'll ever have is the one you have right now. I think they would tell you to seek God and not be afraid to change where He tells you to change. I think they would whisper in your ear that a lifetime spent with an imperfect person you have chosen to love is too sweet to throw away and that with Him, all things are possible.
And I think they would tell you not to waste time with unforgiveness, for time is precious, and when it's gone, it's gone.
I think then they would hold you close, bow their heads, and pray for you to have resurrected hope. And they would pray until you could say, "Amen...so be it."
***
We recognize that this kind of prayer is best applied in the context of a loving marriage. Where abuse or other broken elements are present, very different choices would likely be necessary.
:angel:
Now I Know What Love Is
Mar 16, 2012 01:10 am | Heather Gemmen Wilson
When the UPS guy dropped a package off at my door, I rushed over, tore it open, and kissed the item inside. Ever done that?
Before I tell you what was inside, let me give you some back story. When the package arrived, I was getting ready to head out the door to visit my 16-year-old daughter who has been attending a boarding school for the past eight months.
It's hard to say that out loud.
It's even harder to admit it's a school for troubled teens.
I'm one of those moms who talks about her kids nonstop. I'm the kind of mom who has birthday parties and takes pictures (obsessively) and makes favorite dinners. I'm the parent who stays up way past my bedtime because that seems to be when teenagers want to talk. I love being a parent—and everything that comes with that job.
So how does that kind of mom decide to send her child away?
Let me just tell you that when my husband and I drove away from her school last summer, I cried so hard I thought my insides would come out. Truly. I didn't think my body would physically be able to handle all that weeping—and yet I couldn't stop. All weekend long I kept crying, hardly taking a breath. In part it was because I missed her already; but it was more than that. I wept because I was worried about her, because I didn't know if they could help her, because I didn't want her to have such a difficult life, I didn't want her be in these circumstances, I didn't want her to need help in such a profound way...
I sent her only because it was the only option I had left.
By the mighty power of the Holy Spirit, Rachael has begun the process of radical transformation (I see her nearly once a week, and the change is tangible); but my little baby girl still has scars (physical, emotional, and spiritual). Sometimes I can hardly bear to see her struggling with her self-worth—especially when I know what a powerful, beautiful, child of God she is.
So when I was getting ready to walk out the door, you can imagine the emotions battling within me.
And that's when the package arrived. And inside was a book written by someone I personally know to be godly, genuine, and wise. And the title of that book: You're Already Amazing. The very message I was hoping to share with my precious daughter—a work in progress, for sure, and yet already, by the grace of God, amazing. God sees the beauty in Rachael. He knows the great things she will do, even if she doesn't (yet).
Anyway, I couldn't wait to put this book in her hands—and to know she would share it with the other girls in her dorm who also need to hear this powerful message.
Thank you for obeying the Lord by sharing this message, Holley. Love you!
by Heather Gemmen Wilson
:angel:
The Cheese Stands Alone.... But You Shouldn't.
Mar 17, 2012 Annie Downs
We used to sing a song called "The Farmer in the Dell" when I was a kid. The song, and the game you can play along with it, ends with the cheese standing alone.
One person left unpicked.
Hi-ho the derry-o [what does THAT even mean?], the cheese stands alone.
A few weeks ago, I asked the single girls who read my blog to throw out some ideas of what kinds of conversations they wanted us to have here at (in)courage about being single. A lot of comments and thoughts later, my mind was spinning and asking how to even begin to cover this stuff.
But there was one that was a homerun for me and my life and my experience.
"What do you do when you are the last single girl in the bunch?"
[Read: I am the cheese. I am standing alone.]
I know what this feels like- I was the last single girl in my bunch. My small group at church was four married couples and me. My weekends were spent with them and their kids at sporting events or watching movies or eating Mexican food. They were my people.
They still are my people.
But before I knew it, three years had passed and I had met ZERO new single men and didn't have a social group with anyone in my life place.
So I have two suggestions for you girls who are smack in the middle of a loving group of married folk:
Keep your bunch.
Your people are your people for a reason- married or not, if they love you well, keep them. You shouldn't drop your friends because they get married. That will only hurt everyone in the situation. Keep them near, dear, and involved in your life.
BUT.
Make some new bunches, too.
I know. You hate hearing this. Or you think, "yeah, thanks Annie. That's not possible for me." I'm going to argue with you on that.
Your local library has book clubs- join one. Your church probably has a singles group- go once. There are cooking classes you can take and yoga classes where you can stretch your friend making skills [you're welcome for that pun]. The Sierra Club cleans up everywhere- try it one Saturday. Scope out online dating- many of the sites offer free trial weekends. Meet-ups are happening all the time about every hobby known to man- find one that interests you and then actually GO. Do you like sports? Google and find where fans gather to cheer for your team and then, again, actually GO.
I hate to say it, but you are going to have to get uncomfortable. I'm not saying unsafe. I'm saying you are going to have to step out of what is easy and into what is new.
I know. It's not fair that YOU have to make new friends and your married friends don't. It's not fair that just because YOU are single that YOU are the one who has to be brave. It should be easier than this- it was for your married friends.
I've told myself all that stuff too.
But the truth is that none of that matters. Because here you are. And you have to find abundant life here- with the friends you have and the ones you are going to make.
I gained tons of courage in this area after reading How to Get a Date Worth Keeping. I learned how important it is for me to branch out and make new friends so that I will grow as a human- it is less about meeting people and more about what it does to your insides to be brave- to refuse to be the cheese.
I know you can give me fifty reasons why you can't meet anyone new. But the challenge is this- are you brave enough to brainstorm two ways that you CAN meet some new friends?
And pray. Really. Ask God to challenge you in this and encourage you in this and show you the open doors where you can meet new people.
He will. He'll help you and show you.
He knows you aren't the cheese.
. . . . .
Let's talk about it, y'all!
What are your thoughts on being the last single girl?
Married women- what would you suggest to the single girls in your life who don't know any other singles?
Single women- how have you found ways to meet new people?
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel:
Wonderfully Made
Mar 18, 2012 Lisa Leonard
My world changed the day I went in for my 38 week visit. My husband and I were eagerly anticipating our little baby boy after a smooth pregnancy and we certainly didn't expect any surprises two weeks before my due date. The doctor did some measuring and felt my large tummy and looked at my husband and I with concern. "The baby is much too small" he said calmly. He measured again and looked at my chart. His first thought was that my due date was incorrect, but I felt certain that they due date was correct.
After visiting a specialist the next day and hearing more words of concern, my husband and I {and our families} became very worried about this tiny baby inside me. I was quickly admitted to the hospital and they began to induce labor. After two long days of laboring {that felt more like two years of anxious waiting and worry} our little David was born. And the room was silent. No one spoke. David didn't cry. It was just quiet. And completely terrifying.
After a few moments, I heard whispering on the other side of the room. As the doctors and nurses bent over David, I heard their hushed tones, but couldn't make out any words. "Tell me what's wrong," I begged. "Please let me hold him before you take him away." Slowly, my husband carried him across the room and introduced me to our tiny, new son. With careful words he recounted what the doctors observed.
David only has two fingers on his left hand.
His neck is shorter than it should be and his head is small.
He only weighed 4lbs 2oz. even though he was full term.
The words swirled around my head but I couldn't understand their meaning. All I could see what this sweet, tiny baby boy in my arms. Relief and fear washed over me at the same time. My mind swirled with thousands of thoughts, "He's going to be okay. He's missing fingers. Life will be harder for him. He's alive. He's adorable. I don't know how to care for this tiny baby."
Of course the following days and months were full of every emotion imaginable; heartache, hope, questions, anger, confusion and love. I clung to the verses in Psalm 139.
13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.
David wasn't an accident. He was created by a loving, all-knowing God. His body was knit together from the very first moment of conception. He is a wonderful creation. And I can tell you honestly, I believe that with all that I am.
But, if I truly believe that David is a wonderful creation, doesn't that mean that I am also a wonderful creation? And doesn't that mean that you are a wonderful creation? Somehow it's easier to see God's handiwork in others, isn't it?
Will you join me in praying today? Lord, please help me today to understand in my heart of hearts, that I am wonderfully made. {Because you are, and I am too!}.
:angel:
This So-Called Life
Mar 19, 2012 Leigh Kay
It's a rarity these days for people to ask children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Regardless of if the question is ever asked, the truth is we all have expectations don't we?
I can count on one hand the jobs I used to dream of having one day. Are you ready for this? I once said to my mom that I'd like to be a 911 Operator. (That's due to Rescue 911, an old TV show if anyone remembers!) Other than that, there were brief contenders of a neonatal nurse or a veterinarian, but it would usually always come back to teaching.
It is the latter that I went to college for – Elementary Education.
I had it all planned out. In an English class in High School, one assignment was to write a letter to ourselves not to be opened until we turned 21. At 17, I quickly penned a note describing what I imagined my life would be like. I wrote what some might think normal expectations would be: graduating college, perhaps dating a great guy, heading into the workforce (teaching in a classroom).
Wouldn't you know it, when I opened that letter at 21 years old – nothing was what I expected.
While I won't reveal all the in-between, not just yet anyway (this is the beginning of my story), I can say that at 29 years old nothing is how I thought it would be.
I graduated college, but at many years past 21.
My degree wasn't in Education – but Creative Writing instead.
I haven't quite entered the workforce in a long term, typical 9 to 5.
And the coup de grace? I'm still single.
We all have expectations. Yet the saving grace to a life is just that – Grace.
What I wanted my life to be by now is almost non-existent to the reality of my day to day. Still a few things — a few great blessings — are here. I have an amazing support system in my family. I have been a part of unbelievable church families in each city and state I've lived in over the years. I have friends that cross boundaries of time and distance.
I may not have accomplished what I hoped by now, but the plans of my Creator are still in play. He has a specific will for each of my days. I may veer too far one way or another, but if I continue to place my every hope and dream first in His hands, that He may sift and direct me in His perfect way, I cannot go wrong.
"Trust in the LORD and do good; dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD; and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, trust also in Him, and He will do it." (Psalm 37:3-5)
When I match my dreams with His will, my expectations cannot be disappointed. Especially when I expect His love and provision in my life. He has blown me away with protection my entire life. So if my yesterday didn't go like I thought it would and my today still leaves me wondering, I can rest my tomorrow in the capable hands of my Jehovah-Jireh.
So can you.
Why don't we do it together? Let's encourage one another. What do you hope for? What are you trying to trust Him with today?
~ by Leigh Kay
:aThe unsaved Christian
Mar 19, 2012 Lysa
Last year I met a beautiful woman about my age at a conference where I was speaking. I don't know many details about her life. I don't if she is single or married... if she has kids or not... if she works outside the home or in her home. But what I do know is she's been going to church for a long time.
Not only has she been going but she's been involved serving, giving, and doing all the right church stuff.
But, something was missing.
"I never could quite put my finger on it until this weekend," she whispered. "I never knew what it really meant to have a relationship with Jesus. But hearing you explain it, something clicked. I walked forward today. I gave my heart to Jesus."
She brushed her long dark hair away from her eyes and I could see the sparkle, the joy, the realization of salvation. Scattered pieces of faith coming together to make the picture of Jesus more clear, more solid, more applicable in her life.
A fresh vision of hope.
And I wondered what part of what I shared made this profound click happen in her soul?
Of course, it was the Holy Spirit moving... but somehow in the midst of me sharing the broken places of my life, things came together in hers.
It got me thinking about us doing life together here at (in)courage. A few moments whispering truths back and forth over the internet learning how to navigate life as Jesus girls. But all that we talk about is for nothing if our hearts stay far from Jesus.
It's not about momentary motivation to make it through today.
It's not about spiffy quotes to ponder and put into practice.
It's not about relationship tactics and turnkey solutions.
It's not about bite-size pieces of peace to make life a little more manageable.
It's not about making our lives look and feel a little better.
It has to be about Jesus.
And drawing our hearts into His reality. His grace. His love. His hope. His forgiveness. And most of all the free gift of salvation because of Him.
If you've ever felt like this woman from this weekend who can't put her finger on what's missing but is just bouncing from one religious activity to the next... sweet sister can we chat?
God doesn't want us to have a religion. A religion is where we follow rules hoping to do life right, and we serve God out of duty because we think we have to.
God wants us to have a relationship. A relationship where we follow Him. And we serve God not out of duty but out of delight because of the realization of who we are in Him.
For years, I defined myself as the broken child of a broken daddy. I went to church to get a little "God goodness" in my life. But it was like putting fresh paint on rotting wood. I was living just like those talked about in Isaiah 29:13, "The Lord says: 'These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is made up only of rules taught by men.' "
It wasn't until I realized I didn't have to be defined by the circumstances of my life. I could be defined by the reality of who God says I am. I wasn't a broken child of a broken daddy... I was a forgiven and loved child of the Most High God... my Heavenly Father.
I didn't need a little "God goodness" to rub off on me... I needed God to invade the deepest parts in me.
I didn't need to be just following the rules. I needed to be following God Himself.
So, I knelt down in the midst of my messy, chaotic, confused life... and started a relationship with Him by simply saying yes.
Yes, I am a sinner in need of a Savior.
Yes, I acknowledge Jesus Christ as the son of God, sent to die on a cross and be resurrected on the third day to save me from my sins.
Yes, I want Jesus to be the Lord and Master of my life.
Yes, I am a now and forever will be a forgiven and saved child of the Almighty God.
Yes, I will follow Jesus today, tomorrow, and every other day I'm blessed with on this earth.
Oh sister, let me quiet the voice of Satan screaming to resist this process because you won't be able to live this out perfectly. Jesus has never ever asked for us to be perfect. He simply wants us perfectly surrendered. I often pray, "Oh Jesus... I am such a mess but I am Yours. Show me... help me... forgive me... reassure me... and pour your tender mercy upon me."
And He does.
And He always will.
My imperfections are safely tucked within the reality of His perfection.
And I simply press on by continuing to say YES moment by imperfect moment... day by imperfect day.
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:
On friendship: 3 proverbial thoughts
Mar 20, 2012 Robin Dance
Sometimes friendship is plain hard.
What should come easily, eludes...
What everyone else seems to have in bountiful supply, you lack...
Never do you feel more alone than when you're in a crowd of women whom you like or admire or want to know, but they appear not even to notice you...
Because we're created in the image of God, it only makes sense that we'd crave friendship...relationship. Triune God ~ Father, Son and Holy Spirit ~ His very nature is relational. Everything was good in Eden except for man's aloneness–God never intended mankind to live a solitary life.
Friendship has been a struggle for me in recent years. The hurtful actions by a few people I valued somehow caused me to lose confidence in myself; which, in turn, had bearing in how I related to others. Sometimes I constructed walls around my heart in an attempt at self preservation, but too often I flat out consented to feeling inferior.
I b e l i e v e d a l o t o f l i e s .
But I've learned to see a beautiful aspect to my void and pain, important not to overlook:
It serves a purpose.
Conflict is crucial to a good story, and aren't all our lives telling good stories? Isn't it through the most difficult seasons that we grow and mature and change the most? If God is only good (and I believe He is) then isn't He using all the circumstances, choices and consequences of my choices, for my good to accomplish His purposes? So when life gets hard ~ yes, through relational conflict, but also in personal crisis (health, financial, marital, etc.) ~ I have a choice to make: to follow the path of least resistance (what a worldly response dictates) or to allow my mind to be renewed and my heart to be transformed.
At midlife, I am still learning the art of friendship.
Three powerful friendship lessons are found in Proverbs–
A man who has friends must himself be friendly,
But there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother. (Proverbs 18:24, NKJV)
To have friends you must first BE a friend. This is one of the few times I prefer the King James or New King James translations of Scripture; all the other ones seem to say something else. Are you waiting on others to make the first move or are you willing to reach out? Of course everyone wants to be on the receiving end, to have someone else interested enough to initiate, but why not be the one to BE the one? Sure, you're risking rejection, but I think the likely benefit outweighs that occasional cost.
A peaceful heart leads to a healthy body;
jealousy is like cancer in the bones. (Proverbs 14:30, NLT)
New Living translation packs a powerful punch; "...jealousy is like cancer...." Painful and potentially deadly. Ouch. I don't think I'm typified by jealousy but I have a destructive inclination of comparing myself to others, particularly when it comes to writing and Accomplishing Big Things. I don't disparage the success of my friends – I celebrate with them! – but I sometimes allow their success to make me feel "less than."
Jealousy will hold you back, keep you down, and create chasm in your relationships; left unchecked it will destroy friendship and cultivate bitterness. Jealousy cannot co-exist with the fruit of the spirit–love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.
As iron sharpens iron,
so a friend sharpens a friend. (Proverbs 27:17 NLT)
Recently, a friend cared enough about me to point out a blind spot; though difficult to accept, I know she had my best interest at heart. I prayed over her words and asked the Lord to reveal what He wanted me to hear. It is dulling to limit yourself only to the friends who will always agree with you or tell you what you want to hear. Allow yourself to be vulnerable enough to invite your friends to tell you what they really think, and then prayprayPRAY for discernment.
Is one of these passages particularly resonating with you today?
By Robin Dance who is especially thankful for truth spoken in love, and grateful when (in)courage readers are curious enough to drop in for a visit.
:angel:
The Need for Margin
Mar 21, 2012 Jessica Turner
MARGIN.
It is a word that is on my mind A LOT these days.
On a recent phone call with a wise friend, she said, "when I consider opportunities, I think, will I be happy I did this when I am 75 and look back on my life? I have too little margin in my life to say yes to things I should say no to."
Oh how that struck me.
You see, up until that call, I didn't think too much about the fact that my life had pretty much no margin.
My days are always go, go, go.
Wake-up.
Shower.
Nurse the baby.
Dress everyone.
Breakfast.
Work.
Work.
Work.
Pick up the kiddos.
Cook dinner.
Clean-up.
Bath time
Story time
Bed time
Husband time.
Blog time.
Prayer time.
Bed time.
And amidst all of that, I say yes a lot. Sure, I'll email you tonight. Sure, I'd be happy to do that. Yeah, I can swing by the store and get that. I'd be happy to plan that. No trouble at all.
When really, all I want to do is snuggle on the couch with my husband and the littles.
So I have started to say no and do less. It has been so freeing to say, "you know, my life has too little margin to do that." "I don't think that is a good use of my time." "This isn't fun for me anymore – why am I doing it?"
With each of those responses, I have felt like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
Little by little, I am working to create more margin.
Margin to do the things I want to do. The things God has placed in my life to do.
It feels so good to consider the fact that my busy life has little margin and that I MUST fill that margin with things that have meaning and purpose.
Please hear me say that this is a journey for me. I am FAR from solving the issue of too little margin in my life, but I am getting better at saying no.
It isn't easy to say no and do less in a society that is all about more.
But being a Christ-follower isn't always easy.
And I truly believe that he does not desire for us to be running on empty.
Question: Do you have little margin in your life? Do you struggle to say no? How can we support one another?
:angel:
A Little Confession about You're Already Amazing
Holley Gerth
I wrote this book for you.
For the friend you have lunch with once in awhile. For the coworker in the next cubicle. For the woman sitting silent in the church pew.
I wrote it for me, too.
And just in case I've got you fooled somehow, I want you to know...this message is still hard for me sometimes.
A few weeks ago I had a meltdown. The ugly-cry, worry-the-dog, bewilder-the-husband kind. I was exhausted. I got my feelings hurt. I did the complete opposite of what nice girls are supposed to do on bad days. The complete opposite.
And I did not feel amazing at the end of that day. I felt like a chocolate-craving wild woman who had lost her mind.
Anyone else ever been there?
So what did I do?
Well, first I picked up the mountain of wrappers and tissues.
Then I sheepishly made things right again. With God. With other people. With me.
I gritted my teeth and decided it was time to take hold of truth again.
Knowing you're already amazing doesn't mean you will always feel that way. Or act that way. Or never have bad days and mess up royally.
It means instead that you have made a choice to always make your messy, glorious way back to who you really are. Who you are beyond the times when you utterly fail and fall and think no one else in the world could possibly ever do the same.
I wrote this book because I need to hear these truths...again and again and again.
They're not a silver bullet. They're just a way to win more battles. To get up faster. To become more and more of who God has called us to be.
I want to us to show up in heaven still wiping the sweat from our foreheads, with smiles on our faces and maybe a few skid marks as we arrive. And I want Jesus to be able to say to each and every one of us, "That's my girl. Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Lord."
I'm glad we can share this journey because none of us are meant to go through this life alone. None of us are strong enough to believe the truth every day. And all of us will wind up with days like the one I had.
Let's believe we're amazing together–as many times as it takes, for the rest of our lives, until we hear it face-to-face from the One who made us that way in the first place.
What helps you believe what's true even on the hard days?
–Holley
:angel:
Un-Invisible
Mar 21, 2012 amberfrench
Invisible: impossible to see or not easily noticed; hidden (The Free Dictionary). The opposite of that would be "un-invisible" – being seen despite the feeling of being unnoticed. Deep down, we all want to be noticed. We want someone to really see us and crave to be loved, despite our flaws and quirks.
I recently participated with a group of women from my church in a book study of Beth Moore's book, So Long Insecurity. Beth makes a consistent point of urging us to show girls and younger women what it means to be secure. She talks about how we're bombarded with images of how we should look and what we should wear – all in the pursuit of being beautiful. She poses a question several times in the book: "what would you say to girls today?" I've been unable to get that question out of my head. What I would tell them are the very things I secretly want to hear as well:
God loves you. He loves your friends and the person sitting beside you but He also loves you. He has the most amazing plans for you.
Jeremiah 29:11: I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for (Message).
He thinks you're beautiful – exactly as you are. There's absolutely nothing you have to do in order to make Him love you more. He made you just as you are – don't think for a second that He messed up. You are not a mistake or a failure. He had a plan for you and saw you before you were even born.
Psalm 139: 13-16: For You did form my inward parts; You did knit me together in my mother's womb.I will confess and praise You for You are fearful and wonderful and for the awful wonder of my birth! Wonderful are Your works, and that my inner self knows right well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was being formed in secret [and] intricately and curiously wrought [as if embroidered with various colors] in the depths of the earth [a region of darkness and mystery]. Your eyes saw my unformed substance, and in Your book all the days [of my life] were written before ever they took shape, when as yet there was none of them (Amplified).
God cares about all of the little things you care about. He's not too busy for you or forgotten about you. He's put gifts and abilities in you for a specific purpose. Even though you might feel you've wandered off the path He has for you, He's waiting for you to come back; it's not too late and you're not lost.
Don't get impatient as you wait (way easier said than done, I know). Maybe you're waiting for the right job or the right guy to come along. Sister in Christ, trust His timing. I know it's tempting to run ahead and settle for less than His best but wait and "rest in hope" (Psalm 16:9). His plans are beyond what you can possibly imagine!
Ephesians 3:20: Now to Him Who, by (in consequence of) the [action of His] power that is at work within us, is able to [carry out His purpose and] do superabundantly, far over and above all that we [dare] ask or think [infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, hopes, or dreams]– (Amplified).
Know He's working things out for you, even though you might not be able to see it. You know God loves you enough to give His Son for you so trust that He wants the absolute best for you. Let that truth seep into the deepest parts of your heart and soul, chasing away the doubts that try to linger. He loves you so much. Even when you feel no one sees you, you're always un-invisible to Him.
Amber French, snidbits
:angel:
On Making God's Will Your Will
Mar 22, 2012 Arianne
It seemed like just a regular Saturday, watching a House Hunters episode and working on a writing project {a.k.a. perusing Pinterest}.
I had a nice iced fizzy drink in a mason jar with a glass straw, feeling all special and happy about the little things in life like mason jars and glass straws.
The kids were enjoying our grassy back yard, my husband was playing with the baby on the floor watching her learn to sit up. I didn't expect what was about to happen.
Instead of just innocently enjoying watching a show where people move to new places and embark on new adventures (while being perfectly satisfied in my happy current existence) I started to get the itch. It's a familiar one, so I knew right away what it was.
It feels like an unsettling, like new places might be desirable, like it wouldn't be so bad to leave this house and find another. Like it might be time to move again.
I tried to ignore it, and continued on with my day. But the itch just got worse.
Soon I talked with my husband and he lovingly called me crazy, reminding me that we just moved to this house last summer, to this city just over two years ago.
But the itch would hear nothing of it.
Pretty soon I noticed my husband feeling the itch too. Comments about how going abroad to serve might be in our future. Out-loud wonderings about where God was taking us next were met with a side-eye and a zipped lip from me {I had to continue to let him think it was his idea, right?}. It wasn't much longer and we realized the itch was a real "thing" and it wasn't going away.
The problem? If you feel God calling you to a new adventure, you really should be prepared for that adventure to be the opposite of what you expected. We expected something fully "new" and what we got was what felt like a punch in the gut instead.
We were being called home to the city we grew up in. Where we hadn't lived in over 11 years. A cross-country move from South Carolina to Arizona was apparently ahead of us, and we were scrambling to make it not be so.
The timing of the move (just 2 months away at the time) and the immense feelings of "been there, done that" were hard to swallow. We can't even say that all our memories of AZ are good ones.
But what we can say is that we are now very, truly EXCITED to be going! We're grateful for this change, seeing blessings at every turn, and fully expecting to flourish in our new home. But HOW did we come around? How did our hearts do a very gigantic 180?
The secret is this: when God calls you to something you don't want to do, cry and cry a lot.
Yes, really.
Get it all out.
Then...ask God to make His will your will.
Those prayers will be answered though, so you really need to mean it.
The beauty in all of this is that those prayers will be answered! You will experience such peace on the other side of that kind of surrender. You really will feel fantastic and excited about the path you once dreaded.
So don't be scared of that itch you may be ignoring, because I have no doubt there are blessings on the other side. A God itch is the kind you *want* to scratch!
Do you feel any kind of God itch in your life right now? What leaps of faith are you hearing whispered to you that you maybe need to listen to?
***
By Arianne, of To Think Is To Create
:angel:
Easter, the Bunny, and Me
Mar 23, 2012 Jennifer Schmidt
As a young mom, with four babies in five years, many years of my life swirled around a few choice things.
One, that all oatmeal pieces were out of my hair by noon. Two, that all my personal undergarments were tucked in when out in public and three, if those undergarments were not tucked in, please don't tell me, I would never be the wiser.
Life as a mom of multiple preschoolers created a constant world wind of craziness, cuteness and strong conviction, but my heart's desire and purpose at that time has not changed from the present: To Know God and Make Him Known.
That desire manifested itself in varying forms throughout my life stages, but imagine my surprise when I found out that celebrating holidays was not as simple as it seemed.
Growing up, my family tapestry was woven rich with traditions, and as a new mom, I was so excited to create that solid foundation of memory making experiences as well. Yet suddenly, I was assaulted with a wide range of varying views from many Christians which I respected the most.
Opinions stretched from, "If you tell your children that there is an Easter Bunny and a Santa Claus, and then they eventually find out that they are not real, when you attempt to tell them about Jesus, and they can't see Him either, they won't believe He exists," to "We have freedom in Christ. It's our responsibility to teach them the real meaning of Easter, and point them to the Cross, but having pretend fun won't hurt them either."
Believe it or not, I am a philosopher at heart, and all these controversial and divided opinions really bothered me. My desire to know God and make Him known led me to weeks of research (on dial up, no less) about the origins of holidays, and how they came to be celebrated, which led to multiple questions that my husband and I pondered personally about what was right for our own family.
I took time to interview mentors that I respected. I prayed about it. I searched the scripture.
My final decision? It really doesn't matter to your family.
I have been called to reclaim the culture for Christ alongside my husband, our children and often, our extended family. How that is facilitated looks different all the time, and it will be different for your family. As my children have gotten older, and hopefully, I've gotten a bit wiser, I've relaxed a bit. I've realized that whether I put a chocolate bunny in an Easter basket will not make one bit of difference in the scope of eternity.
Daily, I need to be pointing my children's' focus towards Jesus. Daily, I need to be reaching their heart and connecting on a soul level. Daily, I need to be modeling for them the heart of a mom whose focus is on Him.
There's reassurance in knowing that my decision on whether the Tooth Fairy comes through the window, Santa comes down the chimney, the Easter Bunny hops down our drive way or I decide to bypass all three, does not impact God's redemptive plan for our lives.
I do encourage all of you to really think through why you celebrate holidays the way you do. Creating meaningful traditions is a powerful balm to family unity. I continually remind myself to be intentional with those choices, and so often it's truly "The Little Things that are the Big Things."
For our family, those "little things" often comes through traditions. For a plethora of Traditions ideas for Easter, find some inspiration from my traditions category,but here are a few of our family favorites.
Resurrection Rolls Recipe
As Easter approaches, kitchens far and near will bustle with the sights, smells and tastes that tantalize our senses. Even now, I can close my eyes and anticipate the tradition Easter brunch that graces our kitchen as we host the annual Easter Egg-stravaganza. For years, family members have brought the same dishes that tempt our palettes. There's something so special about the way family recipes create lasting memories.
That's why I enjoy making these Resurrection Rolls every year.
We enjoy the simple, yet profound truth of Jesus' burial and resurrection that can be shared through this memorable hands on cooking experience. Yes, especially for children, the spiritual lesson that comes from this sweet, yummy treat will be a significant memory making moment.
Joy Filled (or Magic) Jelly Beans to Lollipop Garden
Create pure wonder and delight as your children or guests watch these Joy Filled (or Magic) Jelly Beans grow into their own special Lollipop Garden overnight.
It's amazing what happens when we plant seeds of loving kindness? For the detailed tradition idea, go here.
For a character building tradition twist to the jelly bean garden, read about The Joy Filled Jelly Beans to Lollipop Garden Cake.
The night before Easter, plant the joy filled jelly beans on top of the Garden Cake. These are jelly beans that the children have been receiving all week, each time they chose to show acts of service or kindness to others.
Once the children are asleep, replace the jelly beans with lollipops and enjoy the children's reactions at just what can happen when we sow seeds of kindness in other people's lives – it flourishes.
I hope those sparked some creative juices.
With Easter only two weeks away, I pray this Easter is filled not just with special family time, but many moments to reflect and ponder the wonder of His sacrifice for us. This is a time of celebration.
So let's discuss.
Even among the (in)courage writers, there are varying views on how to celebrate holidays, therefore I know it will be the same with our readers.
I would love to hear – How did you reach a decision on how to celebrate Easter?
Does your family have any special Easter traditions?
Authored by Jen of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, a mom who loves traditions, but changes her mind every year about the Easter Baskets.
:angel:
This Muddy Path
Mar 23, 2012 Nikole Hahn
Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.
– Proverbs 3:3 (NIV)
My feet take me places with no destination in mind. The air is crisp and the sky blue. The buildings of downtown jut from the ground into that blue sky, sunlight reflecting off of the windows. People are everywhere—at the square, protesting down the street, playing in the snow, laughing with someone they love, and here I am just walking with no destination in mind. I'm just walking because I have forty-five minutes to waste before I return to work.
I take the muddy way to the market. Granite Creek runs clear over the road, splashing into the creek bed and runs around gentle bends towards the park. I turn right and follow the muddy path with its left over splotches of snow and icy footprints of dogs and humans into the trees away from the busyness. The prints are just traces gone by, like this day.
There are days I hurry the minutes on the clock, eager for it to end, and days I pray that never end. It's good that God doesn't answer every prayer. Imagine the confusion as God hears me contradict myself. Does she, or doesn't she want this day? That's what He would whisper.
Muddy paths have always been my way. I don't know any other way. I always take the road I want to take, disregarding the sloppy mud and twisted roots. Following God is my way, and sometimes those paths are quite muddied. They are quite well-worn from foot traffic of others who have gone down this road before me. They who have stumbled over the roots, slipped on the mud, and who have grasped for the hand of the Lord to pick them up. You can see their work in the bridges they have built.
I have built bridges and burned them down. I have been brave and cowardly. I have followed God even when others do not see why I chose this path, but I did choose it. This muddy path I take is hard, but I am building endurance and the scenery is beautiful. I stop and take some photos. My camera captures beauty with an amateur hand. You won't find Ann Voskamp or Gail McNeeley or even Emily over at "Chatting at The Sky," in my photos. You will find, however, love. Love of the mud, of the leaves that brown, and the snow that doesn't melt in the shade. On this crisp, cold day, I walk hand-in-hand with God.
Describe your moments with God.
By Nikole Hahn, Nikki's Journal
:angel:
White Space
Mar 24, 2012 The Nester
Last weekend I had a grown-up girl's sleepover at my house. It was pure enjoyment. But, whenever I come off a high of peopley fun, my introverted self craves margin. I've shared before my love hate with my high need for margin in my life. And, I've learned that my home can be a trigger for how I feel. So one of the ways I trick myself into breathing that big sigh of "rest" is by creating some white space literally (on the calendar and in my daily to do list) and also another literally–in our home.
So as much as I loved the pink and the garland and the balloons and the fun, quieting the room helps me quiet myself and reminds me to find true Rest.
Is there a literal place in your home that needs quieting or white space?
:angel:
Sunday Scripture: Road to Easter
Mar 25, 2012 incourage
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying,
"Take and eat; this is my body."
Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, saying,
"Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it anew with you in my Father's kingdom."
When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
Matthew 26: 26-30
:angel:
Jesus & the Pythagorean Theorem
Mar 26, 2012 01:20 am | kaitlinevans
Yesterday, amongst meetings and phone calls and endless reports, a coworker made an offhand comment that did not offend me, but it did make me think.
She essentially made the casual assertion that she viewed Christians as hypocritical in that "they" were constantly trying to be perfect like Jesus.
Each one of us (regardless of faith), on some level, know that none of us are perfect.
Not even close.
Her allegation made perfect logical sense.
In fact, it fits quite nicely into the Pythagorean Theorem.
If A = B and B = C; then A = C.
If Christians are trying to be like Jesus and Jesus was a perfect being (i.e. blameless, shameless, sinless, etc.); then Christians are trying to be perfect.
Yet, we Christians, so broken and so in need of constant grace, know that this seemingly otherwise flawless argument just doesn't add up!
So, how is it that we are both striving to be like Jesus, and yet not trying to achieve perfection?
Amongst finishing a leftover burrito at 3:49AM (I am six months pregnant—hello insomnia and night hunger), the answer suddenly came to me.
The above formula is missing one huge piece: another dose of Jesus.
(And in life, when in doubt, add more Jesus)
See, my coworker would be absolutely right if Christians were identical inside and out to non-Christians.
And what sets apart a Christian from a non-Christian?
The answer looms almost mockingly in my subconscious: Jesus.
Humans on their own striving to be perfect and sinless like Jesus Christ would absolutely be a walking and talking contradiction and constantly hypocritical as it is inherently impossible.
But Christians aren't ever striving for anything on their own. We have Jesus.
Ergo, it is because of a living and breathing JESUS in us and through us (and not by our own actions) that we are striving to be like Jesus.
Jesus is "trying" to be like Himself through us.
And that, my friend, makes perfect logical sense.
by: Kaitlin Evans Perceptions and Passions
:angel:
The Quiet in a Mama's House, a Mama's Mind
Mar 26, 2012 12:00 am | Amber Haines
My sons and I pile on the bed, all of us in a rare still moment, so I can clip their nails. I can hear them breathe. The windows are open, and a storm is coming. Curtains sail.
Moments like these are scattered between yelling matches, bloody noses, and tickle wars. My strong voice outlines strict instruction on how to pick up toys. I take every opportunity I can to name out loud a character I want out of my house and the ones, too, that I welcome. Our voices ring out from here like the hum of stars. We do what we do – live – and it's all messy and loud, and often I've found myself having given all my time to the demands of the noise without even having found time to stop and eat.
My husband has been pursuing quiet for lent, and he's been speaking it to me before he leaves for work. Hands on my shoulders, he says, "Take peace, and find that quiet place with God." I must confess that I often respond with "pfffff" and an eye-roll, like what's he even talking about – quiet, in this house.
We have 4 sons. We are many many things, but quiet is not one of them, and for that matter, Seth and I were loud enough before the kids.
But now that he's mentioned it, now that he's told me to grab those quiet moments and call them holy, I've noticed more and more how I reside in a throne room, even here in front of an entire box of cereal dumped out. Here I am with God at the sink; God on a walk to the mailbox; God outside at the garbage can; God as they stick their focused-tongues out to color a picture.
I'm in the shower, the hot water and the washing all done, but I stand here still. Usually I'm telling Jesus all the things that make me tired, if I'm acknowledging Him at all. But I'm learning, instead, to just be silent.
I'm learning so slowly to cut off complaint and the noise of anxiety, that only then comes the silence, that space where God speaks. I'm trying to cut straight to it, to hear it now. Hear it with me, His telling us, "I am with you [...]"
I recognize the rarity of quiet amid the mental noise that comes from social media, noise from fear of failed marriages like giant trees falling, the actual ruckus at the kitchen table, and the noise the baby makes when he wants to be held – the sound of a pterodactyl crashing into the room.
Weren't we after all made for communion? Yes, and in this is often chatter, spilling the heart out in honesty. But, too, there is simple presence – the table where the drink is passed to us. Some moments we remember the quiet sound of the bread, the veil, split in two. Because we can't talk and swallow at the same time, we call Jesus our bread even in the minuscule quiet moments, and then we take and eat.
written by Amber Haines
:angel:
How Tightly Should We Hold On To Our Dreams?
Mar 27, 2012 Sarah Mae
"The mind of man plans his way, But the LORD directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9
I wonder if sometimes God's dreams for us are "lower" than we think.
"God-sized dreams" might be small, and tucked in, and quiet. Sometimes it's easier to think that "God-sized dreams" mean big dreams, our dreams, the things that are exciting and appealing and out "there."
I've often wrestled with the phrase, "God-sized dreams" because I don't understand what it means. God-sized? Dreams? What does that even mean?
And what of our dreams? What if they are just that, our dreams? Haven't many people followed their dreams as an excuse to go their own way? To leave their families? To neglect the small, mundane, precious things that teach us patience, humility, and compassion?
I think about these things because I am on the verge, the edge of possibilities that could drastically change my life, my small, somewhat quiet life. I'm desperate not to lose the small. I want to hold on to my home and my little ones and my husband and stay within reach.
"Mama, sometimes when Miss Angie's here, we miss you. We like Miss Angie, but only for a little while. We want you."
Miss Angie is the sweet grad student who comes to my home once a week to play with my babes and clean my house so that I can write. A few hours, and then that's it, the babes need their mama. I must respect them, and show them that I care about their feelings. So when the temptation arises for me to go on more trips or have more writing days, I pull back, and I remember, "mama...we want you."
I wonder if what we call "dreams" are sometimes just our desires to pursue the things we want to do, and in and of itself, there is nothing wrong with that. God made us wonderfully with different gifts and skill-sets, and we are to use those gifts for His glory.
But we are first to be faithful, and commit our way to Him. And in that vein, we hold our dreams loosely, because really, if they are His dreams for us, than we have no need to rush or push to try to make them happen.
I have friends, soul-beautiful friends who teach people how to live out their "God-sized dreams" and I just want to understand it. Am I the only one that struggles with this concept?
What does it really mean to have a dream? How far should we let our "dreams" take us? What about if we have little ones in our care who need us to dream with them instead of putting our dreams first? What if we sacrifice our children on the alter of our dreams?
"Trust in the LORD and do good; Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD; And He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him, and He will do it."
Psalm 37:3-5
These are honest questions, things I'm wrestling with. I'd love your thoughts...
By Sarah Mae, Stretching Into Blue (yes, I have a new blog!)
The knock on the door startled me and immediately I started grumbling. It would be nice if, just once, the delivery man could be satisfied with a gentle tap instead of a rushed pounding guaranteed to wake up a napping child. But as I saw the big box sitting outside my door, my irritation dissolved and excitement took its place.
I do love finding a box from DaySpring on my front porch!
Lugging it into my dining room, I tried to remember what was packed inside of this box. The first thing I saw when I opened it was Holley Gerth's new book, You're Already Amazing. Ohhhh, I breathed. It looked lovely. My thoughts quickly turned, though, and I didn't stop myself from wondering, "Am I? Really? And does it really matter, anyway?"
Next I pulled out a beautiful teal tote bag. Teal is one of my favorite colors, so it's no surprise that I loved the bag. But I was surprised when my eyes filled with tears after reading the message on its side.
Dare to
Make that difference.
Take that step.
Follow that dream!
Just like that, my cynical questions were answered. Dreams are why it matters that I am amazing.
God knows that we will never follow our dreams if we don't believe that we can reach them. Those dreams – dreams that He gave us – seem too far, too big, too amazing for little ol' us. But they're not. You're amazing. I'm amazing. And God has amazing dream-catching plans for us.
The theme of Holley's book is echoed in the messages of the Loved by God line. "Dare to make that difference," "perfectly loved," "God made just one wonderful you," "loved by God" – all of these words are true. And that truth is a little bit like dream fuel. It matters if we believe we're amazing, because if we believe we're amazing, we'll follow our dreams. And it matters if we follow our God-given dreams.
:angel:
Espresso In My Bathroom.
Mar 28, 2012 Katie Seaward
This morning I was making espresso, an eggnog latte to be exact, in the bathroom for my husband and I had an epiphany. Our espresso machine is in the bathroom. Our microwave is on the floor in the dining room, and we do dishes in the bathroom sink. If you walked into our home today, you would think that our life is messy.
Things are being gutted; painted, rearranged, and cleaned so there will be newness from the inside. We could have bought decor, painted things, bought new appliances, and it would have looked nice on the outside, and it would have been so much easier. The hardest part is living in the messiness while we are slowly redoing our home.
The early sun was already hot this morning coming through our bathroom windows. While I was pouring eggnog and vanilla flavors into my husband's travel mug, my mind was consumed with confusion about a situation in my life. Late Saturday night I sat down on the couch and shed tears while my loving husband helped me try to sort through what's going on.
I stumbled this weekend after a conversation with a friend.
It exposed in me the areas where I struggle most; deep connection, sincere conversations, every day connections with other women.
I am still trying to sort the situation in my mind, and trying to understand it. I finished the flavoring for Tony's drink, and as I began to steam the milk, God's peace and understanding rushed through me so quickly I blurted out loudly, "Whoa!"
Sadly, I have been looking for deposits in the wrong place. I let my mind wander to things I can't understand; sin, relationships that, right now, aren't functioning in the wholeness and healthiness of God. I have spent time in my mind dwelling on this and trying to figure it out, when it isn't mine to sort. It's God's.
After I felt overwhelmed by God's love for me, I set the steamed milk down and poured Tony's double shot. I felt God's direction for my morning, and I embraced it with excitement. He wants me to put my energy, my focus, and my heart into things that I can understand; Him. He wants to be my confidante; to share my heart with Him. To give Him my undivided attention. To listen.
With Tony's latte ready, I quickly made my own, and went to our spare bedroom which will belong to our little girl, but which now holds all of our homeless possessions. I sorted through the piles of books on the floor until I found my devotional. I grabbed it and got ready to head out the door to work.
I turned around on our porch and locked our glass door, looking through it as I turned the key. I am glad our home is messy right now. That means we are working on it, changing the things that need to change, and making it better.
If our house was clean and things were still in their places, that would be fine, and easy. I wouldn't have to scrub raisin bran cereal out of our bathroom sink, and I would feel less weird because I wouldn't be making lattes in our bathroom.
I guess my heart is a little messy, too. It would be easy if things didn't get uncovered. I wouldn't feel like I was navigating through such treacherous territory. But in the same way I looked through my door this morning at our messy home and was thankful, I'm thankful my heart is being worked on. I wouldn't want to stay the same.
By Katie at A House Blend.
:angel:
Crooked Love
Mar 28, 2012 Angie
I don't know what it is about my deadlines for (in)courage, but it seems like every time I'm about to hit one, I go through something emotional. And usually I start to write a post about butterflies and sunshine and then I decide that I'm not going to finish it. In fact, I don't usually get past that one sentence because I like butterflies but not enough to write 700 or so words on them.
I think this pattern continues because there are life circumstances that are meant to be shared in safe community and I feel {I know} that this is one of them. So, since my posts are typically due on the 15th of every month, you all can just go ahead and pray for me in the days that precede it.
This time it's no different, although I'm tempted to dress it up because it's really a sore spot. I'm already all choked up and sweaty, which is a bad sign.
Here goes.
I have an almost-constant internal dialogue that tells me that nobody really likes me. They pretend to. They put up with me. And then they walk away and talk about how they think I'm this-and-that and not enough the-other-thing.
Do you like butterflies? I do.
Sigh.
Don't say the thing you're about to say, because although I appreciate it {No, Ang! We all love you! Everybody loves you! We have all decided that you are the most-loved, most-appreciated, best-at-everything-ever person in the universe! There has never been another human with your sense of...whoa. Anyway, you know what I'm saying}, it isn't what I'm looking for here.
I just need an "Amen."
Do you ever just need a good, old-fashioned, "Amen!" to remind you you're not in the minority?
These past few weeks have been really, really hard. I've had to face some old demons in the realm of, "Actually, Ang? Nobody needs you. Nobody thinks you're all that great. They smile and nod and tell you that and then they go somewhere else where all the smart and funny people live."
My internal dialogue has a sense of humor, at least.
This morning when I was getting dressed, I overheard Abby telling our new sitter that when I was a little girl people used to throw pencils at the back of my head on the school bus. I don't know what made her think of that story but she remembered a lot of details I had forgotten I even told her. I sat with my head against the bedroom wall and I could hear the muffled words and pieced together what she was saying. I closed my eyes and felt the tears sting because the truth is, words hurt me more today than the pencils ever did.
I think I trust too much and believe that people are always going to love me as deeply as I love them. It doesn't always work out that way, which means that sometimes I am left with the question that haunts us all:
"Was it worth it?"
I must confess, there have been many times in my walk with Jesus that I have wondered if I have wounded Him enough for Him to ask the same question. He doesn't see it that way, I know. But was I worth all of this?
I'm not going to let the melancholy hang around long enough to bruise me, but there is a place for it.
It's the moment where we sit right there in the worst of it. We let the hurtful words, the silence, the misunderstanding, all of it just burn a little on our skin. We don't live there, no. We just visit to remind ourselves that even when it looks like crooked love, it's still under His grace.
We breathe {I breathe}
We pray {I pray}
We believe {I believe}
That it was worth the risk.
I'm so deeply carved that the water always settles in, and the more I accept it, the more I will acknowledge my propensity to be filled with His mercy.
I don't forget the pencils, but I remember the wood that carved them.
I don't forget the words, but I remember the One who speaks truth.
It's the kind of day where I need a refuge, and in that...
It's the kind of day I'm grateful there is One.
:angel: :angel:
Torn Between My Head and My Heart
Mar 29, 2012 Bonnie Gray
Have you ever stayed up late, conflicted between your head and your heart? Sometimes the only way out of a dilemma is seeing God take you through the storm.
I love hiking. Even when it rains. Lightly.
It was my first visit out to Georgia, before the days of iPhones and instant weather reports.
Earlier in the morning, I watched the local news and had been warned there'd be showers on and off.
I'd been out in the rain before and wasn't worried too much about it.
I drove out to a state park. But, as I parked my car, I realized I forgot my rain gear.
There I sat, trying to decide if I should chance it and go for my hike. Should I turn around and leave?
I had driven for over an hour. I decided I didn't come all this way just to turn back.
I looked up at the sky. The sun was shining and it was early in the day.
I have my waterproof hiking boots on. And my baseball cap. I'll be alright.
I set out for my trek up, deep into the woods.
An hour later — mid-point on the trail — it started sprinkling. Then, it poured — in sheets, coming down sideways.
I later found out the weather system up on that mountain is completely different from the one back in town.
Storm clouds moved in over the shade of the trees, darkening the sky. The winds began whirling and a clap of thunder cracked in my ears.
Lightning flashed and there I stood. Cold and wet — in the middle of a thunder storm — on a side of a mountain I had never journeyed through.
That's how it feels to be caught between my head and my heart.
That's what happens when I'm caught in a storm and can't see when it will end.
I try hard to think my way through.
But, sometimes, we just can't predict what we happen.
We may feel like our world is out of control.
The truth is we are not in control.
But, God is.
Walking Back
As I took a walk out by myself last week — praying aloud about being stuck between my head and my heart — I confided. "Jesus, I'm tired trying to figure it out. What should I do?"
Jesus brought me back to a darkened storm 2,000 years ago.
He had sent the disciples ahead of him into the Sea of Galilee.
"Immediately Jesus made His disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side..."
seeing them straining at the oars, for the wind was against them...
He came to them, walking on the sea." Mark 6:45-48
It's hard to understand why God sends us onto a journey knowing we'd encounter a storm.
As I thought about this scene, I initially thought about how Peter walked on water. And how he sank.
Then, God brought my mind to focus in on what Jesus did after he lifted Peter out of the waves.
Jesus walked Peter back into the boat.
"Then He got into the boat with them, and the wind stopped ; and they were utterly astonished..." Mark 6:51
Jesus got into the boat — with them.
In the middle of the raging storm.
The text says they were "utterly astonished". There was a part of Jesus they never experienced. There was a part of their hearts that had never seen Jesus this way.
The Other Side
I'm not sure how I'll get to the other side.
I don't know when.
But, I realized the only way I'll get there is this: Jesus will get me there.
Jesus will get me back in the boat somehow.
And I will experience Jesus in a way that I never have before. It won't come from my understanding of the Scriptures or even from my willingness to follow Him.
My experience of Jesus will come through being carried back into the boat by Him.
If you find yourself like me, in the middle of a journey — on your way to the other side – I want you to know you're not alone.
We're all in the boat together, on this journey as disciples of Jesus –
We go where He sends us;
He can see when the waters are too rough;
When we're straining at the oars;
He comes to us.
In our storm.
He'll get us back in the boat.
He will get us to the other side.
We will marvel, you and I. Astonished and full of stories to share.
That Rainy Day
How did my hike in the beautiful wet forests of Georgia end up?
It never did stop raining. Even though I waited patiently for it to do so, the water kept coming down and the trail became a running creek downhill.
The afternoon would soon turn to dusk. I decided I had to go.
With every step of mud, my boots trudged down.
I got in my car, soaked through and through.
I thanked God I didn't get struck by lightning.
And started driving on the road back home.
That rainy day in Georgia.
~~~~~
Where are you on the journey between head and heart? How is Jesus speaking to you?
Pull up a chair. Would love to savor your words. Click here to comment.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
Decorating with Spring Eggs
Mar 30, 2012 Melissa Michaels
Do you decorate for Spring?
I don't do much specific "themed" decorating, but I do really like decorating with eggs this time of year. I actually love seasonal decorating and changing things around the house.
Decorating for the seasons helps me to find contentment and thankfulness at home. It is easy it is to keep things feeling fresh and new with just simple seasonal tweaks to my decor. The process of nurturing my home through the year is one way I can show love to my family and find joy in simple creativity.
I buy inexpensive craft eggs that can be reused year after year. I found these at Michaels' Craft.
Eggs are so easy to decorate with, simply set them around the house on shelves and mantels, fill a jar, vase or pedestal with eggs, or set one up on a candle stick or pillar. In the photo above I used the new Redeemed Dough Bowl as a centerpiece, filled with eggs. Easy!
Best of all, eggs are a symbol of new life and all the blessings we have in Christ.
Time to get crackin' and set some spring eggs around your house, don't you think? Are you in the mood for spring?
written by Melissa @ The Inspired Room
:angel:
My number one reason for craving more of God daily is because I suffer from IDD–or what I like to call, Insecure Dysfunctional Disorder.
It all started in high school when I developed severe eczema that took the skin off my face and feet. I thought for sure no one would ever love me.
That's when my IDD started.
Not ADD or ADHD, but IDD.
It's amazing how I try to live my life and think everything's fine on the outside. I intentionally stay busy to keep my anxious thoughts from plaguing me. My hope is that my doubts, flaws, and insecurities will stay away for one more day.
When I was single I would allow my IDD to get out of hand. I'd fixate on all my problems and end up believing it they were literally my fault.
It's because I'm fat that this guy didn't like me.
It's because I'm too loud that this guy didn't pursue me.
It's weird to spend the majority of my life being single. The good news is that I learned how to find my significance in God; although there were many times I hoped I wouldn't be single forever.
Now that I'm married, I'm really not sure what to think! I have a godly man who loves me and finds me attractive, so why do I feel insecure?
In my quiet time this week, God brought to my attention the story of Moses and the burning bush. I want to camp out in Exodus 3 because I believe this is where I (and hopefully you too), will find the cure to IDD.
Side Note: It never ceases to amaze me how I easily point fingers at other people, and yet when God shows up in my life—I freak out.
Okay.
Moving on.
Moses probably thought he would be tending sheep for the rest of his life. Nope. God showed up and said now is the time.
"I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering" (Exodus 3:7, NIV).
I love that God saw their suffering.
But not right away.
Back in the day, Moses thought he could take care of a slave master. He quickly realized he couldn't, and I'm sure he had many doubts running through his mind as he fled into the desert for his life. By the time the buing bush comes around, Moses has forgotten all about it. His promise.
Really, God?
Really?
Moses said, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt" (Exodus 3:11)?
What happens when God doesn't show up on our watch? I love that God appears at the time when we're most likely to rely on His strength. Not ours.
That's why I know IDD isn't forever.
It's not something that needs to be fixed with a pill, crash diets, or a shopping spree.
After reading the story of Moses, I don't have to suffer from being insecure. I know that God is always keeping a look out. Even though He may not show up when I want him too, and He might even make me wait longer than we expected—He still shows up!
"But when all's said and done, it is true that it [prayer] needs trouble to drive us to prayer, though every time I feel it is something to be ashamed of" (via Dietrich Bonhoeffer, written while imprisoned by the Nazis).
And that girlfriend is something to feel secure about!
By Renee Johnson Fisher, Devotional Diva
:angel:
The Art of Rest
Apr 01, 2012 Emily Freeman
Sometime between April of 1977 and April of now, I forgot how to rest. Oh, I can fall on my pillow at night and sleep. I can sit and watch Downton Abbey for hours. I know how to read a book on the beach. But sleep is often different from rest. And lots of times I'm watching Downton because I'm avoiding real work. And when I'm at the beach, I'm on vacation so rest is kind of a requirement.
Over the past year, there have been times when I have felt breathless, never able to catch up, not even sure what I was chasing. I forgot how to plan for rest during hours where I am fully awake, able bodied and not on vacation.
When the twins were babies and they would miss a nap, people who weren't parents (or hadn't had babies in a long time) would say to me, Well at least they'll sleep gooood tonight. But every mama knows that tired babies actually sleep worse.
Not surprisingly, when they rest well, they are also more pleasant when they are awake. Sleep and rest were natural and necessary parts of our lives when we were young.
I never got around to applying that to myself.
What if, instead of saving all my rest up for nighttime or because I have a cold or broke my arm, what if I planned for rest on purpose? Would it make a difference?
I'm slowly recovering what it means to practice Sabbath. I think because we're made in the image of God, sabbath rest is built into us. We need it. We crave it. But we have all of these Very Important Things to do. Sabbath is lost and rest is lazy.
That word sabbath has never been a pleasant one to me. I'm sensitive to anything that sounds too much like a rule because I come from a background of being very legalistic towards myself. I had a mentor tell me in college that ironing on Sunday was offensive to God and he was not pleased with me if I were to do so.
Ironing.
There are many reasons I don't like to iron on Sunday, but disappointing God is not one of them. I was devastated. But something in my spirit told me she was wrong, and after that, I didn't confide in her. But I still didn't like the word sabbath.
There is a lot I have to learn about Sabbath rest, but one thing I know for sure: God gives us rest as a gift, not a punishment.
I'm beginning to explore what it means to give myself permission to discover those things that make me come alive, and choose a day of the week to do or enjoy those things on purpose, in his presence.
So far, for this season of life, I've discovered that having one day a week where I don't check anything computer-y (Facebook, Twitter, email, even my beloved Instagram) helps me to establish a rhythm of rest. That day of the week, for now, is Sunday. I don't mop the floors or catch up on all the laundry or clean out the hall closet or my email inbox. I don't open my laptop at all, really. Instead, I rest on purpose.
I choose things that are life-giving to do, either alone or with the family. I make bread, read fiction, sit outside while the kids play, eat dinner with my high school girls small group.
These rhythms are ever moving, changing to fit the things my family and I desire most. You may love mopping the floor and that is something that is restful for you. Only you know.
Sometimes I try something that doesn't really work out. For example, a few weeks ago, my mother and sister-in-laws called and said they were going to Home Goods after church and did I want to go? You bet I did! So I went, and I loved being with them. But shopping, as it turns out, was not a life-giving activity for me. I thought it was, but coming home I realized it wasn't. So now I know to avoid that during the time I have purposefully set aside to practice rest.
"The point of the sabbath is to honor our need for a sane rhythm of work and rest. It is to honor the body's need for rest, the spirit's need for replenishment and the soul's need to delight itself in God for God's own sake. It begins with a willingness to acknowledge the limits of our humanness and take steps to live more graciously within the order of things." -Ruth Haley Barton, Sacred Rhythms
There is no magic or formula or secret. There is only tired you, needing to remember to slow and savor and be. Do you practice an intentional sabbath? Do you do it on Sunday or a different day of the week? What are some life-giving things you incorporate into your daily or weekly rhythm?
:angel:
When Love Hurts
Especially Heather
I remember the day we were told that Emma would never be born; her heart just couldn't take the stress. She was just 24 weeks old in my belly. I remember walking out of that office and praying that the Lord would take her, because I didn't want her to suffer.
10 weeks later, she was born.
I remember the first night, her tiny body so very swollen because her little heart couldn't pump the fluid. I remember the doctors calling and saying that she probably wouldn't make it through the night, that we should come and visit her while we still could.
2 weeks later, she was still alive.
I remember the doctor coming into the PICU and asking to speak with Mark and I. I remember the words I whispered in her ear and praying a prayer over her little body before I left. I remember the words "transplant" and "another hospital", and that this would be her only hope of survival. I really don't remember much else.
4 months later, she received her new heart.
I remember the hospitalizations, the surgeries, the heartbreak. I remember the anger, so much anger.
At God.
At the unfairness.
At the world.
Yet, I also remember the grace and mercy of the Lord, and how He not only held her heart in His hands, He also held mine.
I remember the day we had to let her go. April 22, 2011; Good Friday. She was 9 years old.
I remember leaning over her head, looking at her face through all of the tubes and chords that tethered her little body here on earth. I said the same exact prayer that I said that day in the PICU. I told her that it was okay to go, that I would that I would be okay. I had promised her when she were born that I would fight for her, despite what all of the doctors said, I would fight until she stopped fighting.
I told her that it was okay to stop fighting.
I remember not being able to be in the room when she took her last breath. I often times feel guilty over that fact, but the love that I felt for her hurt too much to watch her go through so much pain....
Then I remembered Jesus, on the cross, and His father looking away as He took his last breath.
There are so many examples of Gods love in that one sentence.
His love for His son.
His love for mankind.
His love for me.
Often times when love hurts, we shut down and stop feeling. We blame and get angry. And in those times, we often miss the one thing that we ought to be doing.
Trusting in God that He will provide for our every need, knowing that He is in control of our lives even when our lives seems so very out of control.
Our issues do not shock Him. The death of my precious daughter did not shock Him. He knew before we took our first breath how many minutes we have on this earth.
Earthly life is terminal. It is appointed for every man to die.
But this life is not the end for those who believe in Christ. We are promised an eternity with the One who created the universe.
One thing that I have learned during these rock hard times in my life is that it is okay to be angry. It is okay to hurt. It is even okay to be angry with God.
What is not okay is to sit in that anger; to remain in that place for so long that satan literally has strongholds in your heart regarding that issue.
When love hurts, where do you run to? Where do you hide? Is it in the anger and bitterness that satan uses as a magnet, binding your heart with his? Or is it in the promises of the the One who created you and knows your every hurt, even when you aren't speaking to Him?
When love hurts, to whom do you run?
{This article deals with bitterness and is well worth the read}
:angel:
Fact: Christian Women Will Hurt You
Often when I meet with women one on one, I hear stories of betrayal and pain. Some work through them. Others don't. The ones that don't tend to stagnate in their growth. They use excuses (though they may not utter them) to dismiss their lack of fervor for Jesus. "I would be fine if it weren't for that other person hurting me." Their lives hinge on one (or many) events where someone in the church harmed them. Some leave the church completely or run from ministry. Others build walls around their hearts.
I've been there. I've lived that. I've felt the deep sting of betrayal by people who should've known better. And these were leaders in the church!
Here's what I've learned in the aftermath of that kind of relational pain: God often uses the very thing that harmed you to heal you. When we lived in France and dealt with some pretty extreme situations, the last thing I wanted to do was trust another Christian again. God brought us home to Texas where He placed safe, amazing people in my path. Still, I withdrew. I didn't realize that to grow meant risk. It meant letting go of the past pain and embracing the present. It meant trusting God enough with my heart to risk again. Believe me. It was scary.
After I wrestled and pushed against the relationships God gave me and leaned into Him, I experienced profound healing and freedom from my bitterness. And I grew beyond the pain that I initially thought would stifle and strangle me the rest of my life.
We forget that God's pathways to growth are often paradoxical. While it's wrong what others have done to you (particularly if they had ill intent), it's just as wrong to cling to bitterness as if it were dark chocolate. Eventually we have to be brave women, entrusting our hearts first to God, then letting Him lead us down paths of healing.
Guarantee: You will be hurt in church. You will be hurt in ministry. You will be misunderstood, maligned, and gossiped about. I wish that weren't true, but it's a fact in this crazy, fallen world.
You will either leave church, ministry, or meaningfully deep friendships because of the pain, or you will give all that betrayal to Jesus who understands well the sting of rejection. You will either be ruled by fear and bitterness, never embracing the joyful life God intends for you, or you will acknowledge the pain, hand it over to Jesus, and dare to risk again.
I want to be the risky one, not the bitter one. What about you?
Mary DeMuth is the author of 12 books, including Beautiful Battle: A Women's Guide to Spiritual Warfare. This blog post gets its inspiration from the chapter entitled, "When Christians Hurt You." Hang with her at LIveUncaged.com.
:angel:
I fling the bread dough up in the air, turn it over and flop it down on the pastry mat. I try to seal the creases. It has been a struggle, this attempt at baking bread. First, the yeast did not activate and I had to start afresh after getting honey stuck in a big clump of my hair. Then I could not get the correct consistency of the dough and I almost ran out of flour.
Sigh... Perhaps, the Lord did not call me to bake my own bread? I stretch it out on the pastry mat, tugging at it for all I am worth, pound and stretch it some more. I am hard on this piece of dough; near ruthless and then...comes His soft whisper.
"This is the way they treated my body", He gently, sweetly, reminds me of His presence. "They had no regard for it; beat on it, tugged it, punched it...my body was treated with disdain."
And then I remembered the days when I would make communion bread for the church. How I cherished that ministry. I would lovingly pierce the bread before I baked it, and as I did, I remembered His body pierced for us...for me. Next, I polished and washed the sterling silver tray, making it sparkle. Joyfully I laundered the old linen cloth to cover the bread as I took it to church and then set it before the congregation to partake.
Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love.
Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works.
Have I? Have I left my first love? Has sorrow after sorrow, disappointment after disappointment, caused this heart of mine to harden? I remember the days following my conversion when the grass sparkled brightest green and the ocean shimmered more glorious than diamonds. When the sky could not have been a deeper blue and wild flowers softly danced in the gentle breeze.
Lord, have mercy if I have.
He then beckons me to come outside and ponder all the beauty He has graced this fair earth with, for the winters are warm here this year. I already hear the song of the dove I so love, and the daffodils have poked through; irresistibly yearning higher towards the light and warmth above. The fruit trees are bud-swelling and spring-time like days would beckon me to pause and feel His pleasure and joy over me once more.
And then He whispers to me to sit at His feet and be alone with Him, for this is the one good thing in His estimation... And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.
Our relationship with God...So very important and that which cannot be taken away from us. It will keep our hearts tender; especially if we ponder Him in the Garden agonizing and then beaten, pierced and nailed for us.
And when we suffer grief or fear, let us remember that every step of pain we have to endure, Jesus blood-stepped up the road of Calvary before us.
Suddenly, I think the baking of bread a sacred thing once more and worth the effort. His body given for me...may I never esteem it lightly. The gift whose worth can never be measured; priceless, precious and when pondered upon through His eyes, able to make the heart soft and tender once more.
I am that bread of life...
Revelation 2:4-5; Luke 10:39, 42; John 6:48
I fling the bread dough up in the air, turn it over and flop it down on the pastry mat. I try to seal the creases. It has been a struggle, this attempt at baking bread. First, the yeast did not activate and I had to start afresh after getting honey stuck in a big clump of my hair. Then I could not get the correct consistency of the dough and I almost ran out of flour.
Sigh... Perhaps, the Lord did not call me to bake my own bread? I stretch it out on the pastry mat, tugging at it for all I am worth, pound and stretch it some more. I am hard on this piece of dough; near ruthless and then...comes His soft whisper.
"This is the way they treated my body", He gently, sweetly, reminds me of His presence. "They had no regard for it; beat on it, tugged it, punched it...my body was treated with disdain."
And then I remembered the days when I would make communion bread for the church. How I cherished that ministry. I would lovingly pierce the bread before I baked it, and as I did, I remembered His body pierced for us...for me. Next, I polished and washed the sterling silver tray, making it sparkle. Joyfully I laundered the old linen cloth to cover the bread as I took it to church and then set it before the congregation to partake.
Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love.
Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works.
Have I? Have I left my first love? Has sorrow after sorrow, disappointment after disappointment, caused this heart of mine to harden? I remember the days following my conversion when the grass sparkled brightest green and the ocean shimmered more glorious than diamonds. When the sky could not have been a deeper blue and wild flowers softly danced in the gentle breeze.
Lord, have mercy if I have.
He then beckons me to come outside and ponder all the beauty He has graced this fair earth with, for the winters are warm here this year. I already hear the song of the dove I so love, and the daffodils have poked through; irresistibly yearning higher towards the light and warmth above. The fruit trees are bud-swelling and spring-time like days would beckon me to pause and feel His pleasure and joy over me once more.
And then He whispers to me to sit at His feet and be alone with Him, for this is the one good thing in His estimation... And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard his word. But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.
Our relationship with God...So very important and that which cannot be taken away from us. It will keep our hearts tender; especially if we ponder Him in the Garden agonizing and then beaten, pierced and nailed for us.
And when we suffer grief or fear, let us remember that every step of pain we have to endure, Jesus blood-stepped up the road of Calvary before us.
Suddenly, I think the baking of bread a sacred thing once more and worth the effort. His body given for me...may I never esteem it lightly. The gift whose worth can never be measured; priceless, precious and when pondered upon through His eyes, able to make the heart soft and tender once more.
I am that bread of life...
Revelation 2:4-5; Luke 10:39, 42; John 6:48
:angel:
When Rocks Look Like Shoes
Apr 03, 2012 Stephanie Bryant
I glance down, catching a glimpse of the coral sheen peeking out from beneath my jeans.
My coral patent wedges tell a story, of a sweet day of His glory, of shoulders coming down tight from my ears, chest full of renewing air. A moment that I was destined for.
I chose on this special day to not quickly move to checkmark the next line on my list. The list that makes me feel worthy and needed.
Why do we work diligently, pray with sweat and then rush through the praise? Hurriedly tell a brief version of what really happened? Almost guilty that the day was more than we could have hoped for. That we don't deserve and therefore won't celebrate that which He has done for us.
Worship isn't always another assignment. . . but is long moments that interrupt the normal to celebrate the breakthrough of His light into our world. In the small and the quiet. In the bigger than we imagined. In the humbling experiences where everyone knows without doubt that we didn't accomplish this feat ourselves.
How do you celebrate? Not the birth day or the starting of a life together. But the parts where God blesses, guiding you through times of great perspiration and labor that causes you to see the edge of the waters of exhaustion.
I know recognition of the Giver of gifts and our gratitude are part of celebration. Remembrance of Grace and expressions of joy, too.
But as my friend Annie so wisely asked, how do you "Celebrate the victory and continue the hustle?" {It's nice to know that I'm not the only one wrestling.}
The world doesn't stop so I can have the day to gather my party, make the phone calls, dance to the music. I want so desperately for God to hold the tide back so I can enjoy what for so long I've waited. I want to recognize that the despair is over and the prayer has been answered. I want for Him to hear my voice in exclamation points.
I've learned that when the water flows into pools of God's promises, then rocks sometimes look like shoes.
"Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and take up each of you a stone upon his shoulder, . . . that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, 'What do those stones mean to you?' then you shall tell them. . . and the stones are there to this day. {Joshua 4:6-9}
We must follow the Lord and His Word into the waters. What do those waters look like for you?
And He asks us to remember the times when He pushes back the world and causes us to walk on holy ground. And for others to know Him through us, forever.
"When your children ask their fathers in times to come, 'What do these stones mean?' then you shall let your children know,'Israel passed over this Jordan on dry ground.' For the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan for you until you passed over. . .so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever." {Joshua 4:21-24}
I want to feast and clink my glass with yours' to share in our victories. I want to mark the day so we might remember what God has done. I want a tangible reminder so that I might answer your question with my story that is really His.
I want to celebrate for I know that it's the only right action in the presence of my King and His loving favor.
How do you celebrate the every day miracles?
{And when you do this, the celebration, then the walls of difficulty will come tumbling down.}
:angel:
Imperfections Turned to Easter Blessings
Apr 04, 2012 SandyCoughlin
Our imperfections. They can be a blessing or they can be a curse.
-A fault, blemish, or undesirable feature.
-The state of being faulty or incomplete.
For me, Easter brings out my imperfections in painful yet beautiful ways, because I realize so much of my sin comes in relying on myself and doing things my way. It also keeps me grounded with a right attitude when my guests come for dinner.
You can almost feel your imperfections, so Easter keeps me balanced and my eyes focused on the Perfect One, who covers my imperfections, and reassures His love for me.
It reminds me that when we're relaxed and all eyes are off of "perfect," when we take that next courageous step of inviting others in, when we focus on what really matters, we find ourselves catching a ray of hope – a glimpse of Easter.
Easter is a wonderful time to celebrate for many, but a daunting and dreadful task for others, and that happens when we lose our right perspective of hospitality:
Hospitality is not about us, it's about them (our guests).
Hospitality is not about comparing or having the best.
Hospitality is not about perfection or having a showy spirit.
Hospitality is about showing love, and having a welcoming heart toward others–with food as the tool.
However great or perfect we think we are, what we're trying to accomplish will never be perfect. So looking around our dinner tables, and seeing and feeling our imperfections (table wasn't set right, flowers are wilting, candle wax never cleaned up from last time, kids are misbehaving, rolls a little overdone, Easter dessert a flop), we realize that Christ's covering of our imperfections helps us to become gracious hostesses.
Acceptance of our imperfections helps us to overcome, to open up, and to take risks.
Don't you think the foundation of hospitality is putting ourselves aside and just loving people?
For me, my fears are diminished when the reality of the cross becomes true in my heart.
This year, for Easter, first and foremost, I want that reality.
Are you excited for Easter, or is hosting an Easter celebration a daunting task that is bogging you down?
By: Sandy Coughlin
Blog:: Reluctant Entertainer
Book:: The Reluctant Entertainer: Every Woman's Guide to Simple and Gracious Hospitality
Facebook:: Reluctant Entertainer
:angel:
My mother quilts.
Not the perfectly stitched kind you see at the County Fair displayed on the walls or the kind that brings large groups of women together clucking and cackling as they carefully place thread in cloth.
She quilts because she loves us and because she knows that something made with hands is something so much more powerful than something made without and that something pieced together with love and intent is much more important than the manufactured. With limited budget she measures out the exact amount of fabric she'll need for each project and she uses each piece.
For a Christmas gift a few years ago she gave me what I named the napping quilt. It's a perfect size, a perfect weight, a perfect soft piece of beauty that has been made BY her FOR me.
In the far corner she placed an even more important piece of cloth than the carefully measured pieces on the front:
It is a small edge of one of her father's {my grandfather's} old work shirts sewn lovingly into my new heirloom.
It is a shirt that would have been thrown away. A shirt that saw the sweat and sun of a Northern Indiana farm more than 30 years ago. An almost thread-bare piece of cloth that was rescued, redeemed, recycled if you will, from a box of shirts that would have been put out for Goodwill. After he died 27 years ago, my mother went through her father's belongings and claimed a few useless shirts for herself.
And THAT is exactly what God does with our lives. He takes the rags and rescues them from the box that is destined for somewhere, someplace else. He lovingly restores us to be used beautifully for him. He repurposes us for beauty, He redeems us for wholeness, and He reclaims us for His own.
This month, you'll see (in)spired deals reviews based around the new Redeemed line by DaySpring. Inspired by the idea that we are messy and broken and in need of being made new by a God who's main business is redemption, the Redeemed line is beautiful.
Ecclesiastes 3:11 says that God has made everything beautiful in His time.
An old shirt.
Some patchwork fabric pieces.
Something that was destined for the garbage but has been made beautiful in a new way.
***
During the month of April, ten items from the Redeemed Collection are 20% off. Take a look at the discounted items here.
:angel: :angel:
The Brilliant Beckoning
Apr 05, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
We can't ever really count on spring.
I know it's April, but sometimes the March lion and lamb analogy works for us now too. One day will be rainy and dreary, cold and blustery and the next will be the absolute gates of heaven on earth: sweet air, breeze from the ocean, cool and crisp like a bright new strawberry.
But in the end, we can't really count on spring to behave like summer does. Spring is for tornadoes and rainstorms as much as it's for brilliant afternoons and bulbs poking fresh petals through damp dirt.
But the amazing thing that's happening to the earth during spring is that it's changing.
Ice cracks, storms rage and summer is beckoned.
"I'll never forget the smell of spring," my Midwestern-turned-Californian father says to me. He grew up in Kansas and left with his mother and sister 45 years ago. He's lived here ever since and still the scent of the new blossoms and spring blooms stays with him. And he speaks this to me, a girl who's grown up in the dryness and snow-less-ness of Southern California.
"There's just nothing like it," he says.
Spring means newness and beauty but it also means change. It's why it's so amazing. Winter drips and melts it's way into the earth. It feeds the green that has been biding it's time to emerge, fresh and beautiful.
We always welcome spring. We throw open closed windows, shake out blankets in the yard and kick off our shoes. We sit, face up to the sun and toes dipped in cool water, eyes closed and we thank God that He has brought us the newness of the season. We welcome it each year with opened arms.
We welcome the change easily.
But hasn't anyone ever told us that change also means risk? In the rest of the world, all change means giving up something in order to move forward, to gain something. Change means risking the comfort of what was to gain the newness of what is.
As we get older we begin to resist and resist and kick-in-the-door of change. I don't want to give up the comfort of what is in order to move into the thing I don't know. It's too hard.
But what we don't realize is that we're living in the middle of winter and spring is begging us to come out and play.
Spring is the harbinger of summer yet for so much of life, we sit bundled up in winter because the change is just too painful. It's just so much easier to cup cool hands around mugs of tea and sit near the fire than to welcome the risk into our lives.
Ice breaks, storms rage but summer beckons.
And in spring, it's a brilliant beckoning.
Today, get out and embrace the change that has been waiting for you. Yes, it may hurt. There may be risk. But don't grow "old" inside your heart and let the world race past you on it's way to a brilliant summer.
What change has been right around the corner for you? How do we welcome rather than dread change? Do you like change or are you tempted to resist it?
By Sarah Markley, who can't wait to scoop up her kids this spring, kick off her shoes and race out into the sunshine.
:angel:
When Grief Overwhelms
Apr 06, 2012 01:20 Especially Heather
Grief is a hard topic to tackle. It takes on many forms, and floods at any given moment. It has been one year since her death, yet it seems just like yesterday.
When we first let Emma go I was numb. I do not remember much of anything from the week that followed her death (and the rest of the month fades in and out). I do remember waking up the next morning in my bed, instead of the hospital bed where I had spent the last 4 months. I remember thinking "she is really gone, that was really it." I remember going to the funeral home and looking at little heart urns. I remember the uncontrollable crying and the looking for her every day.
Every where I looked, I could see her. When I went to get in my car, I would stop and open the back door, the door where her car seat used to be. When I would pick up my house, I would find spoons (she loved spoons) in the places that she use to sit, and I would just leave them. I would find rubber bands with her hair still in them, and I would sob.
I missed her so much, I still do. Yet, over time the missing is "different", more manageable in a way that only those who have lost someone can understand.
"The First's", people say, are the hardest. (Yet I have to somewhat wonder, what about "the seconds", "the sevenths") We have gone through the first birthday, the first thanksgiving, the first Christmas, and now the one year anniversary. Yet, I do not think that next year's holidays or anniversaries will be any easier. You still miss them, you still cry over them, you still long for the day that you will hold them again.
It becomes easier, but still the missing isn't erased by the space of time.
I wrote a post 7 months after she had passed about the last time I ran my fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead. I was struggling with a lot of things when I wrote that, but the biggest thing was guilt.
I can honestly tell you that grief and guilt go hand in hand. Guilt is satan's main tool to defeat, and he used it mightily when it came to me. He often reminded me that I was the one who told them to turn off the machines, I was the one who essentially gave up on her; that I was the one who walked away.
I struggled with that. I still struggle with that. But, I know that satan is the master of lies, and that I did everything in my power to make sure that Emma had a wonderful, love filled life. No one could love her the way I did. No one knows the heartache and anguish I experienced on that day, except for my Savior. He held my heart all the way through.
He still is.
There was a time through my grieving process that I couldn't pray. I had no words. I couldn't bring myself to say what God already knew. It wasn't that I was angry at Him, I just couldn't go over it anymore. Then, I couldn't pray enough, because I felt guilty (there is that nasty word again) that I hadn't prayed.
I longed for people to talk to me about her, yet no one knew what to say. I was astonished at how everything in the world went on with out her. I longed for people to say her name, yet I knew when people would, they would look at me through sorrow-filled eyes.
I finally had to realize that people are just that, people. It is hard when you are grieving not to take everything personally. Others do not know what to say, and often times they say things that they shouldn't. (For example, someone told me with a smile on their face "At least now you will have more free time.") It is so easy when you are in the middle of grief to become self focused and offended.
Ask me how I know...
One thing I have learned since Emma died (and trust me, I am still learning) is that everyone is hurting, and no one person's hurt is more or less important than the other. There are degrees of "pain", but they all are still "pain" . I am reminded daily that there is a world of hurting people outside my front door that need to hear the story that will change their lives.
Not my story... HIS story.
The story that sent an innocent man to die for sins that He didn't commit, for people that didn't believe He was who He said He was. A story that removes all guilt from the equation and replaces it with everlasting peace.
A story of redemption in its finest state...
:angel:
The Real Reason He Suffered
Apr 06, 2012 Sarah Nutter
I used a tissue to wipe up the blood that trickled down my left index finger. Always the clumsy one, I hadn't been holding the crown of thorns carefully enough.
And all it took was one measly thorn prick to get me in tears.
This Good Friday prayer walk I was in charge of for our church wasn't supposed to affect me like this. It's just that that prick hurt a lot.
Mostly, emotionally.
Because it was only one thorn. One out of, like, a hundred. One condemning thorn that confirmed what I'd spent my whole life denying:
That if it had been me...
I never could have made it all the way to the cross.
I couldn't have endured a whole crown.
I couldn't have been silent in the face of the crowd's abuse.
I couldn't have borne Judas' betrayal, couldn't have stood still for his kiss.
If it had been me, I would have called the whole thing off the first time Peter said he didn't know me.
I would have jumped off the cross long before a sword pierced my side, long before "it is finished."
The truth is, sometimes we don't want to think about the physical torture that our precious Jesus went through for us. We watch The Passion of the Christ and are wrecked, literally sick, over it.
But sometimes we'd rather think about that than the other kind of torture he endured on that day.
After all, whips ripping flesh and nails piercing skin don't make Christ's death significant. Not really. Two other men were crucified right next to him—bodies also left to suffocate on crude pieces of wood, to push up on torn tendons and gasp for air, to slump down and choke; a cycle they repeated until dead.
Crucifixion was a form of execution in those days. Violent, shameful, extreme—but not unheard of. And if all we do is talk about how bad it was for Jesus' body, we miss the whole point.
The real suffering on the cross was when the Father turned away from the Son and strapped our sin on Jesus' back and inflicted the punishment that sin deserves and we'll never know.
Those other men may have shed blood that day, but they didn't bear my sin on their shoulders; they didn't endure their Father's wrath. They didn't save my life.
The reason we bow before Jesus is because he could have jumped off that cross, but didn't. He could have shoved our noses in our own filth and said, "Fine, save yourselves." But instead he moaned for us. He begged God for us.
He breathed, "Forgive them."
If Jesus' death were just about physical suffering, it wouldn't mean anything. But because that one act bridged the gap our sin put between us and God, it means everything.
It means that he was despised and rejected by men so we would never be despised or rejected.
It means that he became sin so we could be free from sin.
It means that he gave his life so we could have life everlasting.
It. Means. Everything.
So when I think about the cross, I mourn over the physical suffering of the Savior. But I get on my face and weep at the thought that he endured my punishment. That he stayed on that cross until dead—making the resurrection possible. That he never once turned back but instead said to His Father, "Not my will, but Yours be done." That he bore the suffering and endured the shame and paid the price and defeated it all—to the end of eternal glory.
And my eternal salvation.
:angel: :angel:
Christ is Risen; He is Risen Indeed!
Apr 08, 2012 incourage
John 20
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. 2 So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put him!"
3 So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. 4 Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5 He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. 6 Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, 7 as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. 8 Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. 9 (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)
10Then the disciples went back to their homes, 11but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus' body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
13They asked her, "Woman, why are you crying?"
"They have taken my Lord away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." 14At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.
15"Woman," he said, "why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?"
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him."
16Jesus said to her, "Mary."
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher).
17Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"
18Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: "I have seen the Lord!" And she told them that he had said these things to her.
:angel:
Be the one to BE the one
Apr 07, 2012 Robin Dance
"To live a life alone with God does not mean that we live it apart from everyone else. The connection between godly men and women and those associated with them is continually revealed in the Bible...."
~ Oswald Chambers
We talk a lot about friendship on (in)courage–the need for it, hurting from a void of it, healing from the ministry of it and sometimes to offer advice for the care and keeping of it.
Maybe it's a silly thing to bring attention to, but did anyone else happen to notice that in(RL) ~ a celebration of friendship and community ~ is the same month as Easter this year? Within weeks of ~
remembering the sacrifice, torture and murder of the King of Kings...
rejoicing in our forgiveness, redemption and salvation...
exalting in his Resurrected Life and Glory, the means to which gives us new life...eternal life...real life
we'll gather together as sisters to celebrate the joys of friendship in real life.
"Real life" always means something that matters, doesn't it?
Having been plucked out of my comfort zone to land in a place that has taken a while to regain my equilibrium, God has me in a position to listen and learn. I'm thrilling to this experience of new country and culture, but I'm equally thankful to see personal things I've been missing for years. God is gently revealing my blindspots; change is unavoidable.
I'm learning to appreciate the women in my life in new ways.
Don't miss that key word–appreciate. It is much too easy to take for granted those you love; I'm challenged to become more intentional in expressing my appreciation to others.
One of the best ways I can think of to actionize my appreciation (OH YES I just made up a word! Bam!) is by initiating acts of friendship. Don't we all appreciate it when someone else is the first one to extend a gesture of friendship? So I'm asking you to join me in getting better at being the one to initiate. Especially because that person you're thinking about doing something for is possibly desperately needing you to reach out.
Are you willing to be the one to BE the one?
Here are a few ideas to get you started; I'd love to hear your suggestions for how we can practically speak friendship and love into the lives of those very real people in our lives!
22 Acts of Friendship
Start with yourself. It isn't irony that prompts me to encourage self evaluation; discovering more about how and why I've related to others the way I do is the first step to me addressing my blind spots and becoming the better friend I'd like to become.
Pray. While I don't want to over-spiritualize practicality, praying is also first-step friendship initiation. Prayer should be two-fold: asking God to give you a sensitive heart, communion with Him to heal your own wounds, and discernment to pursue healthy friendships; and seeking God to have the eyes to see those who need your friendship and to prepare their hearts to receive it.
Forgive. If you're holding a grudge or have become embittered towards a friend, you do not have a choice; you must extend forgiveness. With both hands clutched tightly to Christ, believe more than He can heal your shattered pieces; trust that He can redeem and restore what was broken and lost. Dear lovie, there is always something good you can take away from painful circumstance. It will make you a better friend to others if you let it.
Be persistent. When you take the bold step to initiate friendship, rejection can be hard; don't let it hinder you from trying again. Yes, while you might become "the one who always initiates," you might be the only person willing to pursue someone who needs pursuing. And sometimes she's the last person you suspect needs pursuing....
Extend grace. When you consider the incomprehensible sacrifice that God extends to his children through Jesus, it seems reasonable that we should lavish grace on one another. Imagine how your relationships might change if you give the benefit of doubt rather than suspect the worst?
Show up when you know there's a need. One of the most indelible acts of friendship in my life arrived on my doorstep. With our impending out-of-state move looming, Michelle showed up with cleaning supplies in hand. When I answered her knock, "Put me to work" were the first words out of her mouth. That was so much better than a vague "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
Pick up the phone and call. Never have we been more connected, yet paradoxically, increasingly isolated. Do not email or text or even Skype–just call! You'll be a rarity among your friends and your voice (i.e. your interest, effort, intention) will register as important to the receiver.
Mail snails. You know how you feel when you receive a pretty "thinking of you" card or note instead of junk mail or bills? Imagine committing to sending one out a week; at the end of the year, 52 people would have been encouraged by your thought. Always act on that prompt! One time I received a letter from someone I hadn't seen in years, and it was a life-giving answer to prayer.
Shower your friends with surcies or little love gifts. You don't need to spend a lot of money to give a small but meaningful gift; my favorite example to explain this concept is when my college roommate bought me the good, soft tissues when I had a cold and was using dorm toilet paper to blow my nose. Her thoughtfulness spoke love so deeply I've remembered the gesture for decades. Shocking is the beauty in a roadside bouquet of (free) wildflowers! (Thank you, God.) Thoughtfulness is always the gift.
Babysit for free. If you know someone who needs a break, give 2-3 hours so they can run errands, see a movie, walk in the park without wiping noses or behinds or tying shoes!
Be fully present. When you're together, leave your phone behind. If that isn't practical (i.e., your children's school might call), resist the urge to do anything related to social media.
Listen actively. This, in part, goes with #11, but rather than anticipate your response let your friend speak until they're done. If you pay attention you'll notice how often people cut one another off mid-sentence.
Double a recipe. Whether your baking cookies, simmering soup or making a casserole, be intentional about making enough to share every once in a while. Then phone a friend, tell them you were thinking about her, and drop it off. We often do a great job of preparing meals in time of need, but why not do so "just because"?
Drop in for a quick visit. Now, before you strike this one off your list, give it a chance (~smile~). If you're in a friend's neighborhood, why don't you throw caution to the wind, knock on her door, hug her neck, and tell her you were just thinking about her. If she invites you in, great; if she doesn't, her house is probably a disaster zone (which all most of us have experienced before). Assure her you aren't staying but you wanted to let her know how you felt. It will leave a loving impression.
Trade shoes. When you find yourself making judgments against or frustrated with a friend's actions, train yourself to consider what prompted her choices. Remember, you only know part of her story, she's likely a master at hiding her pain.
Tell the truth. Be the friend who tells you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear. I can receive constructive criticism if it's shrouded in love and I KNOW the person cares enough about me to say hard things.
Bite your tongue. Stop gossiping about others behind their backs unless it's to praise their walk, their works or their womanhood. Make your goal to be the person whom it can be said of, "I've never heard her talking about anyone else."
Don't take it personally. Seek and develop healthy friendships that allow room for dissenting opinions. I recently joined others in a spirited but respectful conversation about a very controversial topic; I left the conversation unmoved in my position but having high regard for those who offered an intelligent, mature discussion on the matter.
Look for middle ground. Wonderful advice offered to me years ago from a pastor's wife has helped me time and time again: When you find yourself in the center of a "fight," even if you're certain you're "right," realize there's your side of the story, there's her side of the story...and the truth lies somewhere in between.
Sharpen. Be intentional about becoming a Proverbs 27:17 friend.
Set a standard. Goodness–if we all lived Ephesians 4:29-32, we'd all truly be THE BFF!
Support. When my father passed away a few years ago, I was deeply touched by those who traveled hours to attend his funeral, people who never met him but loved me. At my daughter's high school graduation, I couldn't believe the friends who came to a party we hosted for her. It taught me to support my friends by attending the important events in their lives...the good and the not so good.
I could keep going but I'm interested in hearing from you! Would you share a specific example of a sweet friendship gesture that was unexpectedly extended to you? I'd love to hear your practical suggestions to add to this list.
Tomorrow we celebrate real life in the victory of our King. As I end this love letter to you, I'm praying specifically for you to find hope and healing only in Him, and then to share the love that pours forth to the people He brings into your life.
Dare to be the one to BE the one!
With love from Robin, who day by day is learning to be a better friend. Happy Easter!
:angel:
Sixty minutes an hour
Apr 09, 2012 01:20 Tsh Oxenreider
"Okay, now you're the teacher, and I'm the student." The next-door girls are over and the kids are playing school in the living room. I'm in the kitchen, eavesdropping.
"But now I want to pretend like I'm 19 years old," Tate announces.
"But this is third grade. This isn't high school," her friend reminds her. They discuss Act Two of their game for a bit, and decide to correct course onward to the teenage years. They're still in math class, discussing three plus four. But now Tate can walk herself to school.
She's been like this most of her life, wishing she were older. I remember standing on the balcony of our apartment overseas, discussing her wedding and honeymoon plans. She was four. She also reminds me weekly that when she becomes a teenager, she would like a hot pink laptop.
I was like this, too—in a darn hurry to hurry up with life. In elementary school, I couldn't wait to walk the halls of middle school. By seventh grade, I was ready for my freshman year of high school. And by junior year, I was mentally decorating my first college apartment.
And of course, you know that by the fourth semester of college, I was wondering who I was going to marry. Those entry-level science classes made it easy to space out and mentally plan my bridesmaids' bouquets. Whoever they'd end up being.
I didn't marry right out of college, naturally. I went abroad for a bit, and it's a good thing I did, because that's where I met Kyle. But even there, I'd reminisce about the next step—coming home, getting married. I loved cross-cultural life, but I still yearned for the future. For the next thing.
During our pre-marital counseling, we predicted we'd wait about five years to have children. Of course, Tate was born a few months after our second anniversary.
"The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." -CS Lewis
When I became a parent, life started speeding by much faster. A child is born, I blink, and he's crawling. I turn my head, and then he's walking, talking, having opinions. And I hear from those a few years ahead of me that it'll continually speed by at an alarming rate.
And yet, I still yearn for the day when there are no more diapers to change. When all my kids can read to themselves. When the walls aren't splattered with the evening's dinner.
But really? That's exchanging one gift for another. These days I have now, they are precious, just like the ones I'll have in a few years. Wishing them away is to miss the beauty right in front of me, encrusted countertop and all.
"We steal if we touch tomorrow. It is God's." -Henry Ward Beecher
Of course, we hope for heaven. We have good things waiting for us, and it's good to wait eagerly for them. But we miss out on His gifts for RIGHT. NOW. if we wish for the next gift more than giving thanks for today's.
Tate's now playing LEGO, happy to be seven again. Her friends are discussing the benefits of having a household robot. Her younger brother runs into the room, because he has an opinion on the matter, too. The day is glorious, so in a few minutes, I think I'll kick them out to the backyard, where they frequently play bakery, build forts, and wash their bikes.
"Children have neither past nor future; they enjoy the present, which very few of us do." -Jean de la Bruyere
May they savor today, and enjoy the bounty of childhood. And may I take notes.
What are you savoring TODAY?
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
To Come Alongside.
Apr 09, 2012 Caryn Poling
"Don't panic, I'm in the emergency room – I hurt my back and neck..."
... The text message read, from my Navy daughter in San Diego, CA on December 10, 2011. I live in Florida. A whole country apart.
Moms, can you imagine the images that bounced through my mind at the time?
I could see her paralyzed from the neck down, strapped to a back board, never to move again. Which, now that I think about it, was silly since she just sent me a text? :-/
As it happened, I was talking with a dear friend, Deb, after our women's ministry breakfast. I had my phone set on silent but I felt this urgency to check it. The text had just come in a couple of minutes prior.
Deb looked at me; I think she could see the "panic" on my face. I showed her the text message and as we sat there she took both of my hands into hers and began to pray. I was also able to share this with my other friends at the event that morning.
And my friends came alongside me in support and in prayer.
"All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of his healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too." 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (MSG)
Oh and how Gods perfect timing so amazes me. At a time I needed my friends, godly women, I was right smack dab in the middle of them. When my daughter needed comfort and healing the beautiful voices of my girlfriends were lifting me and my child up before the throne of God.
Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians we are going to have trouble, times of tears and fears and heartache, "hard times".
But isn't wonderful that we have a loving God, who WANTS to be there for us, to give us comfort and to hold us.
I love the way He will bring just the right person to my side at just the right time I need her the most.
How she is able to love on me, comfort me with words and prayers and hugs and time, because she has been there.
And then after He brings me through those times of hardship, heartache and pain, He promises to bring me alongside someone else in pain and heartache.
Someone for me to love on as He loves me.
Someone who needs comfort with words and prayers and hugs and time, because I have been where she is now.
What ever you are going through today...
My prayer for you is that you have a godly girlfriend. If not seek her out, you need her and she needs YOU!
If you need prayer today, comment here and I and others will pray for you.
"...We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of his healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too."
My daughters' injury turned out to be a severe muscle spasm in her neck. Possibly from just over doing it or tension, she is a very active child and works out vigorously, she also has a very stressful job. Praising God!!!
Caryn Poling – a disposable woman
:angel: :angel:
Comparison Will Kill Your Joy Every Time
Apr 10, 2012 01:20 Kristen Welch
I closed my computer and smiled. Joyful.
Skyping with our Mercy House staff in Kenya is part of my weekly routine and some days we deal with very hard issues. But today was full of great news and it was hard not to feel content with all God was doing.
It was time to pick up my kids from school, so I shifted back into Mom mode. I sat down at the familiar picnic table and waited for the bell to ring. The other moms, mostly acquaintances, were talking about their Spring Break plans just days away. I listened. And the more I heard their elaborate plans of lake houses, ski trips, and Disney vacations, the quieter I became.
Someone asked me what we were planning. Two hours before I felt good about our decision to stay home and do nothing. Relax and just be together. And now, as I said it, I felt a lot less, um, joy.
I mentally reminded myself that my hubby doesn't have vacation days since we use them to go to Africa in the summer and pretty much any vacation money we save is for the same trip.
The conversation around me skipped to gorgeous craft rooms and dining room makeovers and microdermabrasian.
And I found myself silently wishing the school bell would ring before I started comparing my craft box to their craft rooms. I absentmindedly touched my face and wondered if I was a candidate for a chemical peel.
Who am I anyway?
Just like that, a heavy cloud hung over me and my perspective shifted to all I didn't have.
How can I go from being joyfully content one minute to feeling sorry for myself the next?
Comparison is a killjoy: it will steal every ounce of contentment in your heart. It will rob you of perspective and leave you feeling empty.
When I compare my clothes, my house, my life to others, I always end up shorthanded. Comparison leaves you feeling defeated and unworthy. Comparison kills joy.
I found a quiet place at home (okay, I hid in the garage while my kids ate Popsicles in the backyard) and I had a serious talk with myself. I stared at the picture above and my perspective returned. I asked God for forgiveness and I rested in the contentment that comes from being okay with yourself. I'm chasing God, not this world.
Now, this isn't about dream vacations or cute craft rooms, or any other item or event in this world. There's a time and season for all of it (except I'm not so sure about skin peels. Ouch). It's simply about being content in all things.
We can all find people to compare ourselves too. Prettier, richer, better people.
But nothing snatches away our joy quicker.
Instead of comparing our lot with that of those who are more fortunate than we are, we should compare it with the lot of the great majority of our fellow humans. It then appears that we are among the privileged. -Helen Keller
True contentment is found at His feet. It is joy unspeakable.
Keys to finding true contentment (and keeping it!):
Perspective:: We compare by nature, but often to people whom we perceive have better lives. The grass is always greener mentality will only leave us feeling like bad gardeners.
Gratitude:: I find joy in being thankful for all He has given me. Even if sometimes it's smaller and not as fancy as others. True joy is a reflection of a thankful heart. And in Him, I have it all–everything that matters.
Recognition:: Every good and perfect gift comes from our Father from God.
Joy is what happens when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are. – Marianne Williamson
Don't let comparison steal your joy. Join me in defeating this enemy today!
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
Read More | Leave a Comment
Upcycled: Reused for Purpose
Apr 10, 2012 Sarah Markley
"Mama. Don't throw that away!" My ten-year-old points to a flimsy lid of an old box.
"Hand it to me! I'm going to use it. Actually I'm going to recycle it."
I see her, with colored pencils and art markers in fists and a large book tucked under one arm. She reaches for the box lid with her other free elbow.
As a mother, I'm in the constant process of picking up and putting-in-proper-place all things that are out of place. The way a mother can "sweep" a bedroom or downstairs of clutter {when she puts her mind to it} is quick and painless. With speed, I'd been grabbing and collecting the things that needed to get put in order before we began our evening routine.
This is where she stopped me.
I know she'd been hard at work on a fantastical map over the past few evenings, recently trading her nighttime reading hour for one spent curled over art paper up in her loft bed, auburn hair sweeping the page.
Recycle it?
I knew she wasn't going to "recycle" it in the way we term it. We put bottles and cardboard at the curb on Monday mornings for the city to whisk them away to some far off reclaiming plant. Or maybe if we are enterprising, we dutifully take our bottles and cans to the center where we are given small change for our efforts.
Either way, this isn't the kind of recycling Hope was talking about.
She was going to turn it into her map. She was going to create worth out of something that was worthless.
She was going to draw valleys, rivers, houses, mountains and then with her amazing ideas name them each. She'd pull from the Chronicles of Narnia, the Wizard of Oz and a few horse books she's read and mishmash words together to create new ones.
She was going to create an entire world on the back of a box lid.
We call it "upcycling" when we use something old and valueless and construct new value with it. We click through Pinterest to figure out how to turn old baby cribs into parlor benches. We recycle our paper and cardboard and pray that our old mail will somehow find their way into post-consumer-waste napkins.
And then we feel good that we've found a new use for something. But God is always recycling hurts to bring growth, upcyclying hard experiences to create understanding and redeeming the old to make the beautiful. And it's more than just that. It's about being made completely new through Jesus.
The Redeemed collection is about Jesus Christ, the work He's doing in us and how we express that to the world. It speaks of how we see the pieces of our lives as used up, messy, or disconnected, but God uses all the pieces together to make something beautiful. If you're hosting an (in)spired deals review, link it up below!
:angel:
Confessions of a Hesitant Host
Dawn Camp
Months ago when (in)RL was announced, it seemed so far in the future. Plenty of time to plan. Plenty of time to clean. Plenty of time to morph into the hostess with the mostess.
So I bravely signed up. Of course I would host! No problem!
But guess what? Now it's April and I haven't done much planning, I haven't done much cleaning, and I can promise you that I will not be the (in)RL hostess with the mostest. I feel queasy just thinking about it.
You see, I have hosting issues. My inner perfectionist whispers that the menu should be themed and so mouth-watering that guests beg for the recipes; my home should be pristine, from the bathrooms to the baseboards; conversation should flow smoothly as I perform introductions and make everyone feel welcome.
Reality, however, looks more like this: our yard has been invaded by clover this spring; everything in my house is covered with a layer of Georgia pollen; books, maps, and my kids' art projects are stacked everywhere. With ten of us living here and a busy schedule, I'm not sure things will improve before April 28.
The truth is, I'm a haphazard and therefore somewhat hesitant host; I never seem to have my act together on time. All of these scenarios have happened:
Guests walk in on wet floors that I've mopped moments before their arrival.
I've forgotten to add key ingredients to recipes.
I've emerged from the bathroom wearing rubber gloves and carrying a bottle of household cleaner, only to realize that guests are already in the house.
I invited four couples to our house for supper at six o'clock, but I thought I'd told them seven.
Initially, my guests end up in the kitchen, because I can't remember the last time I finished cooking before they arrived. I'm usually in my apron, sweating, trying to smile and make small talk while frantically chopping and stirring and moving things in and out of the oven.
Sounds hopeless, right?
But here's the thing: as much as I panic over and dread hostessing in advance, once my guests arrive—in spite of the chaos—I love every minute of it (after the rubber gloves have been hidden, of course).
People ask what they can do to help, and suddenly there's a kitchen full of people chopping ingredients and arranging food and drinks. Someone starts washing used mixing bowls and knives. Another takes over the job of door greeter.
I sneak away to put on shoes and lipstick and return to find laughter and many hands making light work. If everything were ready when they arrived, I don't think my guests would feel nearly so comfortable.
I don't have to be perfect, because we all pull it off together.
If you're hostessing an (in)RL event, please don't stress about your floors and your menu—I'm asking everyone to bring an appetizer or dessert to mine. If you're stepping outside your comfort zone and attending an event where you don't know anyone, just jump in and help the hostess. Chances are, she's as nervous as you are.
I can't wait to hear the stories of local community growing from (in)RL meetups all over the world!
Are you hostessing? Do you know anyone at the event you're attending?
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
The "Roots" of True Beauty
Apr 11, 2012 01:05 am | Christi Milligan
As far as negative reactions went, this one was a doozy. The initial horror had passed, but the wailing from my 14-year-old's bedroom told us that it would be a long time before she would appreciate her new springtime "trim."
There was security in those long tresses – as if the ability to pile, twist and toss her hair offered an outer confidence her inner self hadn't yet mustered. But faster that you can say "overreact," it was gone, and ten-plus inches of strawberry-blond hair lay on the salon floor.
I could relate – sort of.
My own empty box of Revlon #42 lay in the bathroom trash – remnants of my measly attempt to hide the gray that I still blamed on pregnancies, babies and hormones (along with a thicker middle, weak bladder, and chronic inability to remember that hamburger needs to be thawed out more than a half hour prior to dinner).
If I watched long enough, I swore I could see the gray hairs multiplying around my face – a curious thing since my hair was also thinning at the top of my hairline, forcing me to try a youthful yet unnatural "swoop" of my bangs.
There was a new approach to my beauty routine now. I had trashed my coupons for drug store make-up and headed to the mall to become BFFs with the young chippie doling out makeovers. I told my husband that the arrival of my 40s earned me a bigger beauty budget, and that he'd thank me later when strangers would mistake me for his daughter (well maybe much-younger kid sister).
They say that the passage of time turns youth into wisdom.
But I was armed with shopping bags of foolishness trying to arrest the creepy tentacles of time that were pulling down my face. They also formed craggy "laugh lines" that wrongly suggested I'd spent an inordinate amount of time in my 20s and 30s doubled over in hysterics.
This childishness didn't last long. Close girlfriends will tell you the truth, and several refused to tolerate my "I'm-can't-believe-I'm 40"whining. In the course of just a few days, they gave me the verbal slap I needed to jolt me out of my inward focus and force me to look at the truth of God's word.
"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life." Proverbs 16:31
The real beauty of course, didn't lie in that Revlon box, any more than it did in the pile of hair and tears at the beauty salon. It wasn't in the packages, at the mall, or even my #42 Light Auburn reflection post-dye.
The real beauty is how I'm viewed by my Savior because of what He's done for me. It is how he loves me and how He remains faithful – even when I fret over the "gray."
He knows their numbers, rejoices in my age — particularly the years behind me that I've lived as "His." That is my crown. He rejoices that as "A daughter of the King" I will toss aside the foolishness – sometimes quickly and sometimes not – and come back to what I know to be true.
And what I know is that it is not my own righteousness that enables my Father to see me as beautiful, but Christ's.
These are the lessons that I'm hoping to impart to the young girl weeping across her bed – lessons that transcend the color of the hair, the style, the length.
They are lessons that get to the root, so to speak, of what really matters as a child of God.
By Christi Milligan
:angel: :angel:
Why You Need to Find Community {even when you're really hurting}
Apr 12, 2012 Ann Voskamp
Emmeline Steiss told me that she'd stood in a room full of women, all strangers, and they were all the same.
That's when I looked right into her and I could hear it, what her whole life was saying: no woman can ever heal in a state of loneliness.
Emmeline had lived alone. She had loved her cats. She had once had sisters, long ago. She had driven a mint green Chevrolet to town until they took away her license.
And every Sunday, Mama stopped in at Emmeline's and brought her a banana loaf or a plate of cookies, and I sat beside my sister and we listened to her stories in a house that smelled of ache and time and felines.
Why did it take me half a life to feel this: in the space of the differences that separate us, there can be all this unique, creative strength, and in the places where we overlap, all this unifying certain comfort. What is there to be afraid of?
Emmeline had died alone by the time Mrs. Martin found Mama in the back of church foyer. Back by the coat hangers and children darting between legs, where Mrs. Martin had asked Mama if maybe I'd get together with a group of women weekly?
"No, Beryl, no I don't think so." Mama had just said it straight up. "She's not good here. Not good at all."
The details of what had happened doesn't matter. There are times when leaving things unsaid to most, and mostly said to one, can be the way love covers over a multitude of sins.
All that need be said is that community had about hemmorhaged my heart and I dry heaved to breathe around women. Emmeline could have told me: The shields that protect you can easily become the bars that imprison you.
I can still see her — how Emmeline would pet that cat on her lap, the petting like beckoning someone to come. Like this soothing of her wounds.
The truth of it is, I wanted out.
For years, I wanted out of community.
I didn't want gossip to catch my gizzards and bleed me dry.
I didn't want insensitivity to numb the last of the feeling places.
I didn't want love to hurt and the truth is that love means to suffer and there's no getting around it.
Someone said that to me once: that loneliness is far better than rejection. True. And being dead is probably far easier than living. I had nodded. I have lived it — the quiet death of it all. And found loneliness to be more injurious than rejection because it can be self inflicted. There is always someone to love.
I told myself that when Flora Mullander floundered and spewed all the wrong words over me and my skin, right there around the tender places, flamed all raw. And when another woman murmured these white lies that stained, and a friend failed, and a whole community of faith fumbled — That love is a skill that can't be learned in seclusion.
Love is a tree, each person a branch. And a pile of cut off branches doesn't make a tree. Love can only be comprehended in community. You need imperfect people in your life to perfect your practice of love.
There are no solitary saints; all sanctification is forged in community.
That is why I stayed. The chance to love imperfect people is another chance to perfect His love in me. And all the believers are belongers.
You belong in the imperfect pews, you belong in the community that disappoints yet is anointed to keep on pointing to Him who cannot disappoint, you belong to the club of all the failing passing on all His mercy, all the members of the marred sisterhood being impossibly redeemed by love, lit by transparency, perfected by grace.
I had stood one October, at the far end of our lane, and watched a V formation of geese fly straight over Emmeline's.
And I had almost heard it – how their hearts beat slower in community, how together they were doing it, flying further, with must less effort, soaring on the thrust of one another.
When one lone goose falls out of formation, falls hurt and struggling, two more fall out and follow her down. And stay with her until the flying again, until the flying as one arrow again through the sky.
Emmeline had told mama that. That her keeping company with her had kept something inside of her together. And I had felt those broken places in her when she'd said it.
Her petting this congregation of cats there at her feet, and the geese flying somewhere overhead in this perfect gathering of grace.
All calling each other upward and higher on this communal wing.
::
::
::
15 Reasons To Keep Reaching out Even When You've Been Hurt
1. Christ is the Body and He is Love and both can only exist in community
2. God's people are given the ministry of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5) and reconciliation begins first in our homes, down the street, in this pew, around the corner, in community — or we are ministers of misrepresentation.
3. It's only when you reach out to community that your gifts can be used for the kingdom.
4. Joining and participating in just one group or community this year cuts your odds of dying in half over the next year.
5. Community is only and always what people are: beautiful and broken and utterly redeemable.
6. There are no I-slands in the Kingdom, only His-lands, and the notion of lone rangers is purely bad fiction.
7. The wonder of this: "Don't you know that you yourselves are the temple of the Holy Spirit? ... God's temple is sacred and you are that temple." (1 Cor. 3) We are all the "living stones" of the temple of the Holy Spirit. But if one stone withdraws from the other stones? The "you" in 1 Cor. 13 is plural. Y'all together are the temple of the Holy Spirit; we are a temple of the Holy Spirit together – in community. We need each other, all of us. And believing is about belonging to a community. It's when we are committed in community that we collectively live it before the world: God is among us.
8. 2000 years of Christianity is founded on the breathtaking living organism of community.
9. Community is healthy for us: "Those with strong social connections but poor health habits (eating, exercise, etc.) are just as healthy as those with good health habits but weak social connections."
10. There are sisters in Christ who have died for gathering together with their sisters — how could I neglect so great a privilege?
11. "Dor" in Hebrew, it means generation. May we be the next generation to go next door, the generation who knows who lives next door, what they need next door, how they ache next door. The Next Christians need to be the generation of Next Door Christians.
12. The Christian life is the compassionate, crucified, cruciformed life. Not the comfortable life. Community is how God shapes His children into the image of Christ.
13. We love Him enough to meet Him where He is — "Where 2 or 3 are gathered there He is..."
14. Love is a tree, each person a branch. And a pile of cut off branches don't make a tree. Love can only be comprehended in community.
15. Every chance to love imperfect people is another chance to perfect His love in me. This is a way to soar.
::
::
~ to you, with love, from Ann Voskamp
Related Posts: When You've been Wounded, Cheated, Disappointed, & Heartbroken
::
Q4U: How has community hurt you? How have you learned to keep reaching out, to keep staying in community? Why does it matter?
How are you flying down with the fallen?
How could you help someone heal in community? How are you practicing the practice of love with imperfect people?
How can we join you in praying for you and those you love to find community?
:angel:
Email readers and RSS readers – Come join the conversation by clicking here?
For The Mamas Of Preschoolers
Apr 13, 2012 Kristen Strong
"God doesn't expect us to be instant experts at something we've never done before. And he promises to make up the difference."
Scharlotte Rich, The Promise of a Mother's Prayers
I grab granola bars and throw them in my cart. I look up and then I see her, the cute pony-tailed mama pushing two blonde twin boys in a race car shopping cart. And not a one of 'em looks happy, child or mom. One boy complains his brother is hogging the cart space, the other cries when mama says no to more Oreos.
Quick as lightening I rewind ten years, back to pushing a race car shopping cart with my own twin toddlers. I'm doing my best to get the groceries on my list before my two year old boys get the best of me. I referee argument #57 of the morning: who gets to "drive" the race car shopping cart. {Which is extra ridiculous as those little carts have *two* steering wheels. For the love!} I round the corner towards frozen food, praying I keep what loose grip I have on the situation. And right there between the rocky road and moose tracks ice cream, a well meaning older woman says, "Oh, what darling boys you have! Now dear, enjoy every minute of this because it passes so fast. These are the best years of your life!"
"Really?" I lament inside my head. "This is as good as it gets? Well then. I'll need extra ice cream now."
I force a smile to the woman and grab another carton of moose tracks.
My boys are now twelve and my daughter is eight. With those early parenting years in my rear-view mirror, I can tell you they weren't the best years of my life. They were the most exhausting years of my life. Oh, I enjoyed my babies somethin' fierce, and I didn't wish that precious time away. But the days tucked inside those years weren't all dreamy, sunshiney, and Hollywood-y. Some were just plain long and hard. And at that holding-it-all-together-by-a-thread grocery store moment, I needed to hear something that gave me hope.
Here are four truths I wish someone had told my mother-of-preschoolers self:
1. It will get easier. I always think of moms in this stage as being "in the trenches." You are constantly on alert for possible signs of danger and must be ready at a moment's notice to defend your people. As your children become school-aged and older, many challenges fade away. Of course, new, different ones crop up and take their place. But you grow {as a parent} right alongside your babies, so you will be ready to tackle them as they come. And in your not-too-distant future, you will go to the bathroom {mostly} by yourself. You will sleep through the night and enjoy fret-free naps on Sunday afternoons. You will grocery shop without an entourage.
2. Do not buy into false guilt. Of course, healthy guilt is important and part of the repentance process that leads us to ask God's forgiveness. Or, if necessary, our child's forgiveness. But we moms – especially newer moms – are prone to heaping false guilt on ourselves by taking responsibility for things that aren't ours to own. We make mountains out of molehills then drown ourselves in blame. For example, when the boys were in preschool, I forgot about a special "muffins with mom" breakfast I was supposed to attend with them. When they reminded me about it after school, I felt like the worst mom ever. My poor boys had to sit there motherless! They must have felt abandoned! And unimportant! And so on and so on. I turned a little molehill into a mountain and berated myself for basically being human. Nonsense! I had to learn to let the love of God's truth banish the guilt.
3. Always remember the big picture. Little bodies sometimes hold big personalities, and this is a good thing. Oh, I know, it's sometimes an embarrassing, frustrating thing. Kids with big personalities often move to the beat of their own drum and grip a fierce strong will. I used to dread picking up my boys from Mother's Day Out because I just knew the teacher would approach me with furrowed brows saying, "We need to talk, Mrs. Strong." Today, the boy that required those little 'chats' shows such promise today for being a wonderfully secure, confident grown-up. Oh, we're far from done raising him and we have plenty of kinks to work out, but I have hope. As Lysa says, "Remember, the things that aggravate you about your child today might be the very things when matured that make them great for God's kingdom tomorrow."
4. You're doing better than you think. Take heart, mamas. When my thirtysomething self looks back at my twentysomething self, I see a mama who made plenty of mistakes but did better than she thought at the time. Again, I'm not finished with this parenting gig, and I still have time to add to my kids' therapy. But it's nice to look back with 20/20 vision and see that during the earlier years, many of the things I screwed up and fretted over haven't amounted to a hill of beans. If you love and honor God and spend quality time with your babes, you're a good mama. Give yourself grace and use the times you are plumb exhausted to run straight into the open arms of the Ultimate Parent.
So this morning, I smile empathetically at that tired mama in aisle 12 of the grocery. I can't help but look right in her eyes before saying, "Ya know, this grocery shopping thing will get much easier. Hang in there. You're doing a great job, mama."
And you know what else? You're doing a great job too.
What do you find to be the most challenging part of raising preschoolers? Moms of older kids, how might you encourage one of our sisters who is in the trenches?
Kristen cheering-you-on Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Adoption is Final
Apr 13, 2012 Daphne Tarango
My husband and I are in the process of adopting. We've finished our 10-week training and last week had our home study. We're one step closer to getting our children!
I've learned many things during training.
There are 107,000 children in foster care waiting to be adopted.
If these children reach adulthood without having been adopted, they will undoubtedly face difficulties coping with life's demands.
Like all children–orphans want love and acceptance from a family–their forever family.
Instead, they are bounced from foster home to foster home, many times for no fault of their own.
If they are matched with a family, the fear still lingers–they might be "sent back."
Truth is... They can't be sent back. Adoption is final.
Dear one, God wants to adopt you.
Because of his love, God had already decided to make us his own children through Jesus Christ. That was what He wanted and what pleased him, and it brings praise to God because of His wonderful grace. God gave that grace to us freely, in Christ, the One He loves (Ephesians 1:5-6).
Isn't this wonderful news? God decided before the foundations of the earth that He wanted us to be His.
He chose us!
He chose me!
He chose you!
But there's another thing I've learned in adoption class: Adoption is a mutual selection. That's right. My husband and I can choose to adopt a child, but that child must also choose to be adopted by us. It's the same with our Heavenly Father. He's already chosen us; all we have to do is choose Him.
Have you chosen to be adopted by Him, my friend? Have you accepted His blessing of love through Jesus Christ and become His daughter? If you have, then celebrate! Your adoption is final!
If you have not accepted His love...
If you have not acknowledged at some specific moment in your life, "Yes, I choose to be adopted by you, God, through Jesus Christ's love on the cross" ...
If you have not made the adoption choice a mutual one...
I invite you to do so.
Once you're part of God's family, you will never be alone. You will never be fatherless. You will never be without His love. You will not be sent back.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39).
Dear one, take this moment to make it mutual. Say a simple, heartfelt prayer to God:
God, I've been fatherless. I've sought love and acceptance in many ways that have grieved you–my Heavenly Father. But no more! Today, I choose to be adopted by you. I choose to be your son–your daughter. I choose to be part of your large family through Jesus Christ. Today, I choose You–my one and only Heavenly Father.
Thank you that I am no longer fatherless. Thank you that I am no longer alone. Thank you for blessing me with brothers and sisters to come alongside me every step of the way. Thank you that even after I die, I will live with you forever.
Thank you for Jesus!
Love, Your new son or daughter.
Congratulations! Your adoption is final!
I hope you will join your new brothers and sisters in a Bible-believing church.
By the way, welcome to the family!
By Daphne Tarango, DaphneWrites – Comfort for the Journey
:angel: :angel:
When Someone Lets You Go Before You are Ready to Say Goodbye
Angela Nazworth
I almost titled this post, The Day a Bank Broke My Heart ... because this story begins with heartache and job loss. Two months ago, one of my bosses asked me if I could spare a few minutes to meet with him. His voice, chipper on the other end of the phone, didn't hint to the solemness of the occasion. Because of a "strategic change in the direction of the company," my position was deemed unnecessary.
I was not the only person in the company to lose her job, but at the moment the news was delivered I felt completely alone.
Discarded. Unwanted. Unworthy.
The fact that the decision was strictly a business move provided little solace for my ache. Instead, my mind reeled backward to a moment from my teen years when I was dumped by my high school boyfriend. Even my boss' good-intentioned words "Angela, we all think the world of you," reminded me of the clichéd "it's not you, it's me," that often accompanies the ritual of ending a relationship.
I think that what makes breakups of any kind — even the corporate types — especially painful is the act of being let go. I remember that shortly after my 17-year-old heart was broken, a song came on the radio with the lyrics "I'll never get over you getting over me." Oh how I sobbed when I heard the song that summed up my sorrow. The pain of the arrow that pierced deep and severed the relationship didn't hurt as much as the poison of rejection in which the arrow was dipped. If not treated, that poison can permeate and destroy.
What also hurt near intolerable about being let go was that I didn't want to let go. I enjoyed my job. I adored my teammates. I saw a season of opportunity on the horizon. I wasn't on board with being cast off. I simply wasn't ready to say goodbye. Yet ready or not, the word goodbye eventually escaped my dry throat.
Honestly, two-months later, my heart still aches ... even though I've moved on. And though I didn't find any comfort from my former employer, I am daily reminded of the love that surrounds me.
There are many to whom I tightly cling ... a community of loving friends who have comforted me with loving prayers, encouraging cards, listening ears ... and ... chocolate. I also find respite in my Savior ... in a God who created me for so much more than a job at a bank ... for so much more than this tattered, battered world.
"For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ." – 2nd Corinthians 1:5 (NASB)
On Meeting Him in the Morning
Apr 15, 2012 Jessica Turner
In February, I attended Blissdom. During the session Being Present in a Demanding World, I chatted with a group of women who all had young kids. Universally, everyone struggled with finding time to be still, read their bibles and have dedicated quiet times.
One woman said, I wake up to a little hand poking my face.
Another said, I dont have any time for myself during the day.
And each statement was affirmed by nods from the other women at the table me included.
This season of my life has been dry spiritually. Since my daughter Adeline was born in June 2011, I estimate that I have gotten about 600 less hours of sleep than the average woman should.
It is all I can do to work-full time and take care of my family.
And yet, even in hearing that I was not alone in my lack of quiet times, I felt the Holy Spirit pressing me to make a change.
The week after Blissdom, with the words of those women still fresh in my mind, I made an intentional commitment to pursue the Lord more intentionally. I pulled Streams of the Desert off my bookshelf, along with my Bible, committing to read something every night.
The words of March 1 impacted me.
You cannot expect to be victorious, if the day begins only in your own strength. Face the work of every day with the influence of a few thoughtful, quiet moments with your heart and God. Do not meet other people, even those of your own home, until you have first met the great Guest and honored Companion of your lifeJesus Christ.
Meet Him alone. Meet Him regularly. Meet Him with His open Book of counsel before you; and face the regular and the irregular duties of each day with the influence of His personality definitely controlling your every act.
Did you catch that?
Do not meet other people, even those of your own home, until you have first met the great Guest and honored Companion of your lifeJesus Christ.
Those words caused me to realize how different my days might be if I started them with the one who gave me the day in the first place.
So I am on a journey to change my routine. I am not perfect at it yet.
Some days I choose 15 more minutes of sleep before the baby starts her 6 am cries.
But on the days I say yes to the Holy Spirits prompting and I start the day with the Lord, I am a better wife, mother, colleague and friend.
Q: Do you have daily quiet times? Do you have them in the morning? How do they impact you?
:angel:
How Friendship Heals Our Broken Hearts
Apr 16, 2012 Deidra
For one entire year, when we found ourselves in our new church, I began each Sunday morning with a panic attack. Sitting on the bed with a towel wrapped around me from the shower, I tried to remember how to fill my lungs with air. Sometimes I'd walk across the room and turn on the box fan in the window, or flip the switch to the exhaust fan in the bathroom, all to drown out the sound of my heart pounding loud in my ears.
I'd been down this road before, and every time I'd had my heart stepped on by women who shared my faith in Jesus and who loved him big time and for real. Every time, it caught me off guard and sucked the air out, leaving me flat and empty. And sore.
I don't know why we break each other the way we do. I don't know why I allow a careless word to slip through my lips and hang there in the air, knowing the way it slinks between and settles in and crumbles into shards of glass. How can I not see how thin the line between the way things can be and the way I let things be?
We carry the glory of God in earthen pots with dirt caked on and death trying to get comfortable in the darkness where the roots are tender, and He trusts us to let Him shine through all the broken places. He knows how prone we are to wander – to crush and be crushed. And He has this uncanny way of bringing glory out of ashes, grace transforming dis-grace, healing banishing dis-ease.
Eventually, I found a way through those panic attacks. I opened up my heart to women over coffee or tea or a good book. I kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet under me at the end of the sofa and leaned in to hear the stories other women shared. And eventually, my heart got stepped on because that's what happens. It's true.
But also? This heart, all tender and broken and split wide open, has been filled with breath and life and hope – hoisted on the shoulders of women who love well with bruised hearts of their own.The good with the bad, and God right there in it, working it all for His good.
I have this tender, broken heart – split wide open, and filled with breath and life and hope.
Won't you share with us in the comments today about a friend who has helped redeem your view of friendship? We'd love to hear your stories?
:angel:
Freaked Out But Faithful
Apr 16, 2012 Stephanie Shott
Costa Rica? That's not at all what I had in mind!
For seven years my heart heard drums pounding in the distance, lions lying in wait for their prey and Swahili spoken in villages full of precious people in need of Christ. My heart and prayers had taken root in Africa but my reality was beginning to look very different from the vision planted long ago.
I knew God was calling us to the mission field seven years before my husband heard the call. Day after day I cried out to God to place on my husband's heart the same passion He had placed on mine. At times the burden was too much to bear.
But one day, in the midst of the ordinary, God interrupted my husband's heart with the call and everything changed. Like a snowball down a steep hill, our circumstances began to point in an entirely different direction than I had anticipated. It would be Costa Rica where we would begin our journey as missionaries.
I have to admit I began to freak out a bit. Okay – a lot! Costa Rica meant I had to learn Spanish not Swahili. I was frustrated, frazzled and confused. That's when a wrestling match of the Divine kind began to ensue and I started begging God for answers...
Were all those years of prayer wasted? What about all that research? Lord, why would You lead me to pray like crazy for a country I would never step foot on? Why would my heart be broken for people I would never reach?
I may have been baffled by God but the Creator of the Universe was clearly blazing an irrefutable path to Costa Rica. Yet with my heart still clinging to Africa, I began to cry out for clarity and in the midst of the madness He gently whispered... "You prayed for Africa, didn't you!?"
It was then I began to understand not every dream is meant to be fulfilled the way we think it should. My prayers were as real as my burden and not one of them was wasted. God had called me to the mission field to pray like crazy for a people I would never meet and a place I would never go.
He chartered my freaked out heart to minister to a people I never considered and a place I knew nothing about. Not so He could throw a wrench in my plans, not so He could rock my world and hurt my heart – but so He could remind me that faith is following God even when we don't understand.
Even in our grandest attempts to understand the totality of God's plan for our lives we fall short.
Abraham was called to charter a course for an unknown destination. I'm sure it probably freaked him out a bit...but he was faithful.
Moses was called to a head-to-head showdown with Pharaoh. I'm sure it freaked him out a bit...but he was faithful.
Mary was called to be the mother of the Son of God. I'm sure it freaked her out a bit...but she was faithful.
We don't always understand the end in the beginning. The call rarely comes with a blueprint and is usually something that is beyond us. But aren't you glad we can look at those who have gone before us and, like them, declare that regardless of whether or not the call freaks us out, we will be faithful.
By Stephanie Shott
:angel: :angel:
Motherhood and Our Great Cloud of Witnesses, a Mother Letters giveaway
Apr 18, 2012 Amber Haines
In all my efforts to gather them into myself, to fold them back up for keeps like a love letter in my heart, every day is a pulling away. I have 4 boys, each turning man by the spoonful of oatmeal. I nestle one completely in my arms, he pulls back and seeps the milky smile, looks around the room for his brothers.
I know that already at 8 months he aims to follow them all the way out my door. Right now they swing in the trees, high enough to give mothers heart attacks. Yesterday they ran on rusty tin and said bad words on purpose. I came undone. I lose my grip, take to heart all the verses on the Fear of the LORD. It's the only thing that seems to crumple my fears like old grocery lists.
I have these Mother Letters, a stack of letters written by mothers who are walking along side me and who have walked this journey before me. I got them from my husband, who collected them as a way to make Christmas instead of buy it.
On Christmas morning, after dabbling a bit in the blog world, he presented me with a document over 600 pages long, letters from all over the world. Every page began with "Dear Mother," and so began a journey to see my grand and humble position through the eyes of a great cloud of witnesses, women who are in this with me.
No mother has it figured out, all messy – hanging on to hope and reveling in the Glory.
At the time it was too much for me, all these letters. I cried and thought it too big a thing to have all these secret thoughts and intimate encouragements from mothers, the narratives of so many lives. At the time I had a newborn, a 1 year old, and a 3 year old, all BOYS. My eyes were crossed in young motherhood.
Now, down the road a little bit, I read them and swell with tears again in the common exhausted glory, the showerless beauty, the guilt-ridden works, and all the graceful releases involved in motherhood.
It's different at every stage, and I hold these letters close to my heart. I have these pearls, words from mothers in our humble position, all of us trying to sprinkle patience in the rooms of our hearts – holding close and letting go all at once.
The amazing women of Squee! have come along side me and my husband and have worked long with us to chisel away and offer a collection of letters and photographs to you that will encourage the hearts of women in this mother journey while giving them a strong sense of recognition. We aren't alone. Other women have missed the boat. Other women have kids screaming outside the bathroom door, and others have anchored deeply into faith so as not to be tossed out of their minds.
Mother Letters e-book is available now, a collection of letters and photos from mothers to mothers, to embolden and encourage mothers in their messy and glorious journey. If you need encouragement and know other mothers who do as well, we invite you to join us at the release of Mother Letters e-book and write your own Mother Letter, linking it with the Mother Letters Link-Up Party.
***
Let's pay it forward today! Leave a comment and share who you would like to see encouraged by such a collection of wisdom, and we'll choose one winner by Saturday night and send Mother Letters to her as a pre-mother's day gift from you! Go ahead and leave a comment for every way you share with friends about the book for extra entries.
Thank you for sharing the mess and the glory with us!
written by Amber Haines
:angel:
Living The Life He Intended
Apr 18, 2012 Toiya Paige
As I went through my day, it felt like I was walking through a minefield. At every turn, a mini bomb exploded. Initially, I thought the worst had to be over. I believed that the tense morning moments would be the worst the day had to offer. I was wrong. The more hours that passed, the larger the explosions. Finally, I decided to consult God.
"What are You trying to tell me?" I asked. "Why is all of this happening today?"
My most challenging students were displaying their most mischievous behavior. The principal assigned a monstrous task to me that had to be completed within two days. Fellow teachers were asking for professional consults (I am an instructional coach) one right after the other. I felt overwhelmed and underqualified.
I began my interrogation again. "Lord, how am I going to get all of this done?"
Walking swiftly down the hall so that I would not be tardy to my next appointment, I made mental lists of what tasks needed to be a priority and what tasks could wait. I felt myself becoming more and more anxious and feeling less and less capable of handling all the tasks at hand. Silently, I prayed...
"Lord, I cannot do this on my own. Help me to do what You want done, how You want it done, and when You want it done. I am here in this school so You can work through me for Your purposes, not mine."
That simple prayer relieved so much stress and tension from my mind, body, and spirit. I was able to finish the day confident that all would be well because I wasn't in control. He was.
As long as we believe that our lives are about us, they'll never be as fulfilling as we think they ought to be or as fulfilling as God intended for them to be. Deep down there is a void that we instinctively know can be filled with light and peace. It seems to take us such a long time to realize that we cannot fill this void. We have to allow it to be filled by the Holy Spirit. And only then can we live our lives as God intended.
By Toiya Paige, Doing.Life.Differently
:angel: :angel:
The Right Fit {and a little pixie dust}
Apr 19, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver
The second I got engaged, I immediately turned into one of Those Girls. You know, the ones who carry around a stack of bridal magazines and can only talk about things like centerpieces, bows made of tulle and the merits of roses versus daisies. It wasn't long before I had picked out the exact same wedding dress in every magazine, dog-earing pages and circling designers as if I wasn't going to be shopping at David's Bridal.
When it came time for the big day – the big shopping day, that is – my mom, cousins and friends all headed out with me. I flipped through the dresses on the racks and pulled out The One.
Well, I thought it was the one. But it turned out that the gorgeous wide-necked, cap-sleeved tight bodice with the simple full skirt looked terrible on my narrow shoulders. I mean, it just looked awful. I could prove it to you, because my mom lovingly snapped a picture when I tried it on. But honestly, it still makes me a little sad.
***********
When I was in college, I was involved in a campus ministry and as soon as I was eligible (read: a wise sophomore), I applied for a position on the leadership team. I wasn't sure which area of ministry would be the best fit for me, but I sure didn't think it would be the Tech Team.
Making promotional videos? Designing a website? Running the sound equipment? Boring! Who wants to do that? Not me. I just knew that when the campus pastor looked at the list of open positions and compared it to the list of interested students, my name was merely the last one unmatched and, therefore, the logical fit for the stupid tech team.
***********
Several years later my husband and I joined 10 of our closest friends in planting a new church. We decided to start our church with in-home meetings about the different areas of ministry our church would be founded on, and each couple was assigned an area to lead. My husband and I were assigned to the Fellowship Ministry.
Fellowship. As in, potlucks and picnics. Again, I was disappointed because clearly this wasn't the best place for me to serve God. Obviously I could be doing so much more than planning chili cook-offs!
***********
Flash forward a few years, and I'm watching the Tinker Bell movie with my 4-year-old daughter. Half paying attention, I don't catch the entire plot of the movie on the first watch. But after a few more viewings (because if watching it once was good, watching it 10 times is way better!), I realize that little fairy and her friends are handing out some truth along with the pixie dust.
The gist of the story is that Tinker Bell is disappointed to learn that she is a tinker fairy, a fairy who fixes and builds things. Even though everyone can see that she's gifted at tinkering, she wants desperately to do something more exciting, more fun with her life. At one point she says, "Look. You all do things that are beautiful and magical and . . . and important. But me . . . there's gotta be more to my life than just pots and kettles. All I'm asking you is that you give me a chance."
It takes her a while to figure out what's clear to everyone else, but you know the movie must have a happy ending. Eventually, Tinker Bell realizes that she really is a tinker. It's how she was created, and it's when she's tinkering that she's truly in her element.
I'm no cartoon character, but I feel a little bit like Tinker Bell. From wedding dresses to ministry, I've fought who I am my entire life. And just like in this children's movie, that refusal to accept myself has caused hurt and frustration and wasted a lot of time. I've had to learn, over and over, that when I stop arguing – with my mother at the bridal shop, with ministry leaders, with employers, with God – about who I am, it usually turns out that God has put me in the exact right spot. The exact right spot for me, the unique person He created – narrow shoulders and all.
The dress I ended up wearing at my wedding? It was gorgeous. And flattering, too, as my mother reminds me. The year I spent on the Tech Team in college? It prepared me for this little hobby called blogging. And leading our church plant's Fellowship Ministry? It taught me about community and friendship and the real meaning of fellowship and, oh yeah, gave me loads of inspiration for my e-book about planning parties.
God doesn't waste. He doesn't waste talent or time or opportunities or experiences. And He knows what your right fit is. So if you find yourself in places that seem uncomfortable, like they just don't fit or maybe like they're just not good enough, fun enough, fancy enough or exciting enough? Just sit back, take a deep breath and think about Tinker Bell. Or wedding dresses. Or website design, circa 1998.
He's got you where you are for a reason. He made you the way you are for a reason. And the way He weaves together His followers and their gifts, their lives and His mission is beautiful – and way better than pixie dust!
There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them.
There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.
There are different kinds of working,
but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.
(1 Corinthians 12: 4-6)
Have you ever been disappointed with one of your gifts or abilities? How is God using those gifts and abilities now?
:angel:
Escaping The Rut Of Want
Apr 20, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
Twelve years ago I was stuck in a rut of want. There was an opportunity that looked so promising. A publisher expressed genuine interest in my writing. It seemed to be right. It felt right. I wanted it to be right. It must be right!
But it never came to pass.
In my most mature moments I reasoned, "It wasn't meant to be. I trust God and believe in His perfect plans."
In my not so mature moments I wondered, "God, this isn't fair. Why do you keep saying no?"
And in my immature moments I whined, "God, do you care this hurts me?"
Have you ever been there?
Ruts of want are tough places to be stuck.
When God says no, we are sometimes tempted to wonder if He loves us. In reality, it's because He loves us, He sometimes says no.
Read that last sentence again and rub it into your heart. The hurting part. The part that throbs and aches when you see others getting the exact opportunity you want. You fake a smile to hide the pain.
God brought this change of perspective to me through a baking disaster that happened to my youngest daughter, Brooke. She came to me at 9pm one night and asked if she and her friend could bake a cake.
Hope, Brooke's older sister, had offered to help and I was too tired to argue the incessant pleas of a nine year old.
Brooke measured and poured, whipped and stirred, and carefully placed a batter-filled cake pan into the oven. Then she turned on the oven light and watched the cake bake. Her cake became her whole focus. She couldn't stop looking at the cake and grew increasingly impatient with the slow-passing minutes on the timer.
Nothing kills patience like being solely focused on the object of your desire. And tragically, impatience becomes the breeding ground for compromise.
About 30 minutes into the 45-minute baking time, the cake looked done. It smelled done. Brooke and her friend wanted it to be done. She reasoned it must be done!
Hope helped retrieve the cake and place it on the counter to cool.
And it wasn't long until the cake imploded.
The cake couldn't withstand the pressure of an undone center... and neither can we.
If we obsess over the cake and make it our whole focus, character atrophies. If we make growing in godliness our obsession and keep our focus on God, our character matures. And a mature character makes for a solid and well done center.
I thank God everyday for the no's He's graciously allowed and continues to allow in my life. I used to pray, "God, let me, let me, let me!"
I now pray, "God, please never let my success outgrow the character necessary to handle it."
Indeed, it's because God loves us, He sometimes says no.
What 'no' have you thanked God for lately?
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel: :angel:
Waiting For God's Gifts
Apr 20, 2012 01:10 am | Kris
I gather the pieces into this well-worn freezer bag.
Barbie shoes and random matchbox wheels, Lincoln logs, Lego's, a sharp set of fairy wings- none of these suitable for small children to play with. Each of these items, potentially dangerous enough that they have to be reserved for later use.
This "Piece Bag" is a coveted thing around here. They clamor on chairs and pull at the cabinet, "can we pleeeeaaaase just look in it" the younger one howls. I often say "no" because I know what happens when they look in it. They begin to want, they covet, they long for things they are not ready for yet. I know what that's like.
Many things in my life have at one point, rested out of reach, tucked away on the reserve shelf, not suitable for my handling, or mishandling as it might be. I have longed for and wished for and occasionally, whined for things that I wasn't ready for. I know the ache of seeing that special thing glittering just out of reach, and I have prayed the prayers to ease the longing,
As I tucked my middle boy into bed, he looks droopy-eyed at me and he asks for something he cannot yet have. I smile weakly because I know his wanting and I know the challenge of waiting. Patience is a gene that I lack, shortchanged right from birth. I brush his shimmery gold-brown hair aside and tell him about the "piece bag". We talk about how God has a "piece bag" of His own, for each of us, and though the one in our cupboard contains mostly hazardous odds and ends, God's "piece bag" is infinitely more awesome, a treasure chest, overflowing with gifts that He will hand down, in His perfect timing.
We whisper there, in the bottom bunk, about how my special gift will not be his special gift, and how our gifts are as individual as we are.
I watch the snaggle-toothed smile spread across his face, when I tell him that God has a whole "piece bag" with his name on it. And he laughs and then asks in all seriousness, "does it really have my name on it?" I smile while my heart cracks open a little, the tears form in the corner of my eyes.
He asks the question we all want to know—
Does God really have special gifts, set aside for me? Without hesitation I choke out, "Yes! Yes my sweet boy, with only your name on it." He rolls over and closes his eyes; He's smiling now. I stand to leave, his hand finds mine, "I'm really happy now," he says.
I pray his joy lasts as he holds out for what's in his "piece bag". I pray that he lives life contented–not longing too hard, not wishing. I pray that he remembers this night.
God will open His hands, He will give the perfect, appropriate gift with all of His love.Our names are stamped permanently in His heart, in His hands—
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands Isaiah 49:16
Sister-friends, if you are waiting for that special something, if you have a dream hanging in the window somewhere that seems out of reach or unattainable, Can I pray for you in your waiting? Would you just leave a little word below in the comments that I might pray with and for you, as you wait for the time to be right? God has a special "piece bag" with your name on it, and when the time is right, He will give it to you.
Take delight in the Lord,
and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him and he will do this: Psalm 37:4-5
By: Kris (Always Alleluia)
:angel: :angel:
About That Hole In Your Heart
Apr 21, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne
I've been talking about this move we're doing, just 3 days from today, and I still can't believe it's happening. A cross-country traipsing of epic proportions. South Carolina to Arizona, and the only reason I'm not scared silly for the impending culture shock is because Arizona is home (though we left 11 years ago). It's where my husband and I grew long legs and big hearts and eyes only for each other.
We felt the itch last month, got a little worried (ok, we fully freaked out), surrendered and started planning. We grew to not fear the details, anxiety issues seemed to melt away and we learned patience. We saw that we need only be obedient to the process, to allow Jesus to care for the results, and giggled together at 3am over the freedom in that obedience.
All this growing, all this learning, has happened in just the 6 weeks since we decided to move. I can only imagine the growth that God has in the new home, our new city, if this much has happened already!
But there is one thing I still am uneasy about: who will our community be?
We have been in a season of wilderness lately as we are without community here due to various factors. It isn't a big stretch to imagine that God has new community waiting for us. But I confess I have that "new kid at school" jitters about the thought of starting all over with a new circle of friends.
I treasure my online community so much, but so much more can happen when we break bread with people. The in-the-flesh people that can shape us and challenge us fill a community shaped hole in our hearts. God created us with that hole, such that we'd always search to find the missing part until we are home with Him.
We're talking so much of community here lately, I know it's likely been on your mind too. How has God stretched your idea of community?
***
By Arianne of To Think Is To Create
:angel: :angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Apr 22, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
"And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."
Hebrews 10:24-25.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Speak Gently
Apr 23, 2012 Annie Downs
I sat across from Caroline* at our favorite coffee shop in Nashville. We are the same age, but she's married and loves to hear about my single life shenanigans. Having said "I do" right after college, this jungle that is dating in your 30s is super foreign to her. So when I tell her, "yeah, the hardest part is that he flirty texts me a lot but doesn't ask me on dates," she's all, "wwwoooowww.... we didn't even have cell phones when Brian and I got married."
I know, Caroline. I remember. I was in college then too.
We laugh so much. She always makes me feel like my simple Nashville single life is absolutely THE MOST INTERESTING THING EVER.
[It's really not, y'all. Not for a lack of trying on my part, but it is not.]
On this day, in the dead of winter, we held our warm mugs tightly and I shared my doubts and struggles in this season of singleness.
She said, "Well, I just KNOW that God has someone for you."
And I paused. And stared blankly. After a few seconds, I responded, "No, no you don't. You don't KNOW that."
And she blankly stared back, then looked down at her latte. "You're right," she said, "I don't."
. . . . .
Words that hurt accidentally are the worst. Being that a lot of my friends are married, and they have hope for me, they want to say the encouraging things:
"I just don't get why you are still single."
"Are you meeting new people? I think you may not be meeting enough guys."
And the quotes could go on and on. You probably have a laundry list of things people have said to you meaning to be helpful that have just ended up hurting.
And you know the reality? The problem usually isn't found in the person sharing the encouragement- the problem is in the ears receiving the words.
I am sensitive about other people talking about my singleness. So when someone bops in and says, "I just know God has someone for you!" it makes me want to scream and say, "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING!"
[Because I am very mature. Obviously.]
One thing my pastor Pete Wilson has taught us to do is trust other people's intentions, not just their actions. And if I choose to listen to my friends and hear what they are saying through the lens of their good intentions, the words land a softer blow.
I bet women who are trying to get pregnant deal with this too, don't they? Or women who have lost some weight and suddenly EVERYONE says how much better they look now. It's not just us singlets that have to work through this.
We all hurt each other with words, whether we mean to or not – welcome to living in a fallen world.
The only truth that is Truth is the Word of God. So when those hurtful / attempted helpful comments get poured into my mind, I wash them in the Word.
"God has someone for you!" .... well, maybe. But more than that, God has PLANS for me. (Jeremiah 29:11)
"Why are you still single?" .... well, I'm not sure. But I know that God's purpose for my life will always prevail. (Proverbs 19:21)
Listen with your heart, not just your ears. And trust that God's Word is the balm that heals and the sword that slays.
. . . . .
How have you dealt with words that accidentally [or purposefully] hurt you?
*name changed because seriously, she meant well. And I love her.
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel:
Rest In His Presence
Apr 23, 2012 01:10 am | Cathie Quillet
We have a row of vending machines at our church. As the students prepare for youth group on a Wednesday night, the students visit the candy store in the junior high room or the vending machines.
That particular Wednesday night, I watched a seventh grade student walk towards the machines. He stopped, pulled his change out of his pocket and flung some lint onto the floor. He calculated his handful of change and counted it twice.
He perused the drink selection and zeroed in on his soft drink of choice. He started putting his money in the coin slot until the sum totaled $1.25. He pushed the drink selection and I'm sure his taste buds started salivating. The refreshment and caffeine rush were just seconds away. Well, according to his plan at least.
He put his hand in the bottom opening and waited for his purchase to be released.
He waited.
And waited.
Then, he threw a fit as a lot of us do when we don't get what we want. He punched the machine. After all, he deserved the result that he was being denied. Didn't he?
He looked around to see if anyone was watching, so I hid a little bit more to see what happened next.
He backed up like a bull getting ready to attack. He charged, full steam ahead into the pop machine, leaping off his feet right before he got there.
Nothing. He didn't get anything. (Except a good laugh out of me).
He hurried to the closest adult, to complain about how he did everything right, but wasn't given what he was owed. And he deserved it!
My laughter stopped, when I realized that this encounter is all to like my prayer life sometimes. I know what I want, I approach His throne with MY agenda, and throw a good child-like tantrum if I don't get it.
What was a silly spectacle to observe, turned into an ugly look in the mirror.
If I just spend this amount of time in Scripture, then I'll get what I want.
If I pray for ten minutes more than I do, THEN my prayer will be answered.
If I cross everything off my spiritual to do list, THEN...
Why do we minimize God's power to a divine vending machine?
If we do, we minimize His authority, strip the power from the cross, eliminate his omniscience, and tell the Creator of the universe how to do things better. His perfect personal qualities, that make Him the relational and loving Father that He is, are replaced by a robotic Santa Claus who provides what is on my list. After all, I have been a good girl and met the requirements on my spiritual checklist.
What if we adjusted our paradigm and shifted our focus to God being a relational, loving and welcoming God, instead of a pawn?
Imagine the safety, security and acceptance you felt climbing up on your daddy's lap when you were younger? No words need to be spoken. No time limit necessary. Just you and your father.
Breathe it in.
Imagine yourself there.
That's the God we have. Not a robot. He's ready. Accessible. Welcoming. Accepting. No words need to be spoken. No time limit necessary. Just you and your Father.
Breathe it in.
Imagine yourself there.
He says, "Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10
He's ready for you, regardless of your circumstance. He longs to be in relationship with you. He wants to carry your burdens for you. He's ready and waiting to pull you up on his lap, and let you be still. Snuggle into your Abba's chest and rest in His presence.
By Cathie Quillet, Walking In His Plan
:angel:
Community Building
Apr 24, 2012 01:15 am | Melissa Michaels
I've started this post about the importance of being a part of a community, oh ... I'd say at least twelve times. For some reason, I can't find the right words for what I want to say. Connecting is tough.
Writing for (in)courage is often a real challenge for me. I adore this space and I'm humbled to have been a part of it from the beginning, but I still question what I have to offer. I do not feel eloquent or profound. I don't often feel like I have something deep or spiritually enriching to share so I wonder if I should even show up.
And honestly, the real truth is I don't always want to make the effort or take the time to share my life. That is a lot of pressure. Certainly there is someone else better suited for that task. I have other things to do today that are a little bit easier and more fun for me than heart sharing. Like maybe picking out curtains.
I sit here staring at a blank screen. So, I shut the computer and go eat brownies. Alone. It is not difficult to eat a brownie. Especially if you have milk. I can dip brownies in my milk and pick out curtains online and not have to care about anyone else but me. Me me me. It is like a party, except I'm the only one there.
I'm convicted about that. Because when I think that way, clearly I'm all about my comfort and my feelings and my big needs. I'm not thinking about you, I'm thinking about me. I'm taking the easy way out.
As I process what I'm trying to say here, I realize my rambling today on the struggle to write about community is what building a real community is like sometimes. It can be anxiety-producing. It is soul-revealing. It is hard work to be selfless and care about other people. We know we are called by God to love Him — and to love our neighbor. God gave each of us unique gifts that the body of Christ needs to thrive and effectively reach this world. We were created for community, that is God's plan.
So why do we pull back and hold our hearts, our gifts and our time close to our chest, instead of opening up to community and becoming vulnerable enough to love and give like Jesus would? Why do we find so many creative excuses for not showing up, opening up or putting our hearts out there? Why is it so hard to connect and commit to a group of people?
Community is inconvenient and frustrating sometimes. It is easy to avoid connection when we make relationships more about ourselves than about really loving our neighbors. When the focus is on how we feel about the women we are called to connect with in our church or community (when we feel superior, inferior or indifferent to them) or how we feel about ourselves (on our own inadequacy or if we focus too heavily on getting own needs met), we can find all sorts of excuses to not love like Jesus.
If we are introverted or shy or quiet, if someone has offended us or hurt us or is plain old irritating to us, if we are struggling in some way, if our kids kept us up last night so we have bags under our eyes, or we are too tired from work or too busy with our personal life to give to a community, we have found a perfectly legitimate excuse for not connecting. Right? Circumstances are not optimal and community is inconvenient, so we should be off the hook.
I know for me, any excuse for avoiding community will do when I am looking inward instead of outward. Of course we have our own needs, but when getting our own needs met is our primary motivator for showing up (or not showing up as the case might be!), we can so easily slip into becoming consumers of community rather than being life-givers to a community.
There is so much blessing in faithfully showing up and being present in a community. We don't need to show up because we feel a false sense of obligation or guilt or need more to do. But we show up to community in obedience to Him. Because community building is what He asks of us — to really love our neighbors. And in return we will grow in our faith and character and experience what God intends for us through community.
Community isn't easy or perfect, but I'm excited to see what God will do when we make the commitment to show up and build healthy, thriving life-giving communities!
Do you struggle with being a part of a community?
I'm excited to be hosting an (in) Real Life meetup this Saturday, and I hope you will take that deep breath of courage to show up at a meetup near you! You can register for (in)RL here and find a meetup near you here.
:angel:
Friend!
It has been such a joy to share this journey with you.
We've laughed, cried, grown, turned pages together.
I'm wishing {like I say in the book} that I could have coffee or tea with each of you today.
What would you say?
How is your heart different than when we began?
I'd love to hear.
And I'd love to stay connected with you.
You're always welcome over at my little place online, holleygerth.com
Until we get to chat again, remember you really are already amazing and God has more in store for you than you can even imagine...
Love,
Holley
:angel:
Grace For The Woman Who Doesn't Know
Apr 25, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
My friend had just given birth to her first baby, and a tiny one at that.
Little Viv was a preemie, but such a cutie, and was finally home in the arms of her mama. I took a meal over to the family, chili and some fresh baked bread. I had no children at this point, and was so excited for my friend, I had a million questions. And I wanted to see the baby room! We sat down in her living room and she was trying to nurse, but was having a difficult time. I kept blabbering on about who-knows-what, asking questions, and looking around, while she was being polite and gracious but trying to focus on getting her baby to eat – which the baby would not do. I don't know when I finally stopped talking and left, but looking back, I can't believe my friend didn't say to me, "Sarah, can we chat later? I need to nurse Viv now." But she didn't do that; her kindness covered my poor etiquette.
I really had no idea how inconsiderate I was being that day. I would never do that to a mama now unless she asked me to stay and chat.
Maybe you've seen the movie Bridget Jones's Diary. There is a scene in which she shows up to a party in a ridiculous bunny costume, thinking it's a costume party. Turned out, it wasn't. Everyone was dressed nicely, and poor Bridget had a bunny tail on. Talk about a cringe worthy moment!
Do you have any of those cringe worthy or "wish-I-had-a-take-back" moments? A "what was I thinking?!" kind of time? It is those times that I want you to remember right now. Did you ever do something so awkward or foolish? Have you acted rudely at some point, not even realizing it until later? I bet you wish you could erase those times, or at least go back for a do-over. But you learned, right? You have a take away from your not-so-flattering experience. Now think of someone who has done something rude or foolish or engaged in bad etiquette around you at some point. I want you to remember them, and I want you to remember your moment, and I want you to think of grace.
Let your love cover the thing, and extend grace and a smile.
We just don't all get it sometimes, and we are prone to mistakes and sin. We are, after all, human.
Today, let's love and give grace well. Smile at the woman who doesn't know. Smile authentic. You can free with your kindness, and you can lead others to the blood that spells out grace on a cross.
Especially for the woman who doesn't know.
"Treat others the same way you want them to treat you." Luke 6:31
"Grace, then, is grace,–that is to say, it is sovereign, it is free, it is sure, it is unconditional, and it is everlasting." ~ Alexander Whyte
By Sarah Mae
:angel:
When Pain Paralyzes
Apr 25, 2012 01:20 am | Carole McDuffee
Emotional Pain. It can be hard to know what to do when we are hurting.
Inundated with pain and sadness that makes us want to cry for hours, we feel lost and all alone. Our hearts become mangled beyond recognition.
One blow. A twinge of pain. Two blows. Excruciating pain. Three blows. The depths of despair!
Completely subjugated on a bed of affliction, we feel buried under a mound of mental anguish.
As Christians, we tend to feel guilty when we experience negative emotions.
That's when we act in pretense and find the nearest rug to sweep our feelings under while telling ourselves, I can't let anyone know I am hurting. They will think I'm not a good Christian; that I don't 'have it altogether!'
As we repress our true feelings, the slightest provocation sets us off. When they surface, we are shocked! Where did that come from, we wonder?
Comparing ourselves to others, especially the men in our lives, doesn't work. They are wired differently. They compartmentalize their heartache and move on without a second thought.
As a woman, this method is foreign and far reaching.
Overcome with machine gun emotions pelting us from every side, we quickly retreat to our bedrooms with a box of Kleenexes. We cry until we have a sinus headache, our voices become nasally, and our eyes are bloodshot.
Finding out our teenager is on drugs. Our spouse betrays us by having an affair. Learning our unmarried daughter who is still a kid herself is expecting a baby. A good friend we thought we could trust falsely accuses us. A business partner doesn't uphold his or her end of the deal. Our spouse gambles away their paycheck leaving us without money to pay our rent. We read about an innocent child abused by a parent.
Pretending our emotions do not exist is not the answer.
We must deal with our feelings in a healthy manner. Talking about how we feel with a trusted friend or our spouse and praying about them is crucial. It's okay to be honest and ask the Lord to help us work through the issue we are struggling with.
God created us to be emotional beings, but balance is key.
What do we do with all of the pain when it becomes unbearable, causing us to feel we can't take another shard of glass? Stuff it? Run from it? Pretend it doesn't exist?
1. Talk to the Lord about it in prayer!
2. Share with a trusted friend, get their feedback, & pray together.
Our pain, when given to the Lord, is never wasted. It has a purpose. If we choose to embrace it, it will make us stronger and make us more like Jesus.
A stranger asked a Silversmith who was refining silver "How do you know the right amount of heat needed for the refining of the silver?"
He looked up and said, "When I can see my own reflection."
The Lord refines us through pain and difficult circumstances for the purpose of eventually seeing His reflection in us.
Through it all, even our crazy emotions have a purpose. They remind us we are frail human beings in need of the daily grace and strength of God. As our trust in God increases, we come to realize, we are never alone...
He rides the waves of our raging emotions. He knows what we are going through and He's not afraid of our feelings! After all, He's the God of the Universe. Sometimes He calms the storm. Other times, He calms the child!
By: Carole McDuffee
:angel: :angel:
I don't know them.
I've said hi a few times. I've stood in the quad after church with coffee in hand, trying to politely tell my kids "just one blueberry muffin!"
I met Julie the first Sunday I visited at the church's welcome table. Lynn, I met at a newcomer's dinner last month. She smiled, asked me where I'm from, whether I was new in town. The third girl Nicole sat in the row behind me before worship service. I turned to notice she and her husband were flanked by two girls, one around TJ's age. A mommy-comrade-in-arms, I noted to self.
Sure, I know their names, how many kids they have, where about town they live and how long they've been going to church.
But, I don't really know them.
You see, I'm new at my church.
And in many ways, as hard it is to look for a new community of believers to do life with and worship together – it can also be very easy to be new.
It is very easy to just lay low.
To be quiet.
To be safe.
To just smile and remain unknown.
... To keep every interaction from leading to the one door you don't want to walk through.
It's the doorway of being known.
Two Words
If you've been hanging out here at the (in)courage beach house for even a nanosecond, you know something big is happening in a couple days April 27 and 28. Our first (in)RL meetups — real life get togethers — are happening this weekend.
Well, I had been feeling lost as to where I should go or what I should do for (in)RL. It reminded me of playing musical chairs (those icebreakers!). I hate that feeling of being left without a seat when the music stops. You know the feeling.
Because psst... you know, I'm one of the writers here. Should I host? Or should I just join a nearby get together? I wanted to do something small and intimate, but I felt this pressure to do something big. Because you know, I really do believe in community.
I've been hurt and broken by community.
But, I was also put together by community. Real people who cared about my broken spirit became Jesus with skin to me. They nurtured my heart by allowing me to talk about the hard things: the questions that don't have answers and problems that may not be solved. They didn't try to fix me. They accepted the parts of me that I feared could never be repaired.
Through learning to trust them, I received a gift Jesus wrapped for me in others: being known.
At a Tomb
Being known — this is a gift Jesus offers us through you and me.
I've unwrapped this gift in the past. Will I take a step to open this gift new — today?
Will I open myself to know others — and allow them to know me too?
As I thought about Christ's resurrection, God drew me into a scene that freed me to make a decision about how to do (in)RL.
God brought me to three women who met at a tomb.
Mary of Magdalene, Mary mother of James and Salome were all going to do something conventional for women at the time: preparing a body for burial. They were walking together to go and bathe Jesus in burial ointments.
Just the three of them.
Then something totally unexpected happened.
They found an empty tomb.
They found evidence of life.
And they experienced a crazy, amazing turn in their story they did not expect.
I knew God was speaking straight into my heart.
I don't care about the numbers, Bonnie.
I have never placed importance on what you can do for me.
I place importance on you.
Rest confidently in what I am doing — new — in you.
Be known.
On the surface, getting together with new friends might seem a "conventional repeat" of what we've done in the past, in our search for community. Maybe like me, there are stories from the tomb of broken community quietly looming in the back of your mind.
No matter, Jesus meets us confidently. He says to us what he said to Mary that morning — "Peace be with you."
The Way He Is
So, for this weekend, I invited three new friends for my (in)RL meet up. I've picked out the pastries — something chocolately, lemony, and buttery. I'm going to pick up a special lavender earl gray tea for that afternoon. And I will definitely have some yummy shots of hazelnut ready for the coffee drinkers.
Yes, I have an ice breaker. No, it is not going to be musical chairs. I'll let you know how it goes.
Above all, I'm looking for Jesus to meet us there. He is going to provide the life, the sweetness and the ease of heart.
I know He is going to show up and surprise us all.
It's just the way He is. It's His way. Being known.
If you're taking the initiative to get to know others, are you feeling the pressure of expectations?
What will people expect of you — of the time that spent together?
If you're accepting someone's invitation, are you asking yourselves these same questions?
Faith Challenge
I think it's totally normal to feel the way we do.
No matter how many times we've done this whole getting-to-know you-getting-to-know-me thing, opening ourselves is always a new faith challenge.
Maybe you're reading this, and you're feeling the tug.
To initiate a get together?
To accept someone's invitation?
To visit a small group?
Or maybe a big group?
One or two — ten or fifty — it holds the same weight in Jesus' eyes. He sees straight into us and values our faith in Him. When we take steps to move forward, our faith is what Jesus treasures precious beyond compare.
We are all walking through the doorway of being known.
He is holding your hand.
And He is holding mine.
Let's walk through together.
Call. Email. Get together . Whatever it is.
It's never too late. Even now.
"And when two or three of you are together because of me,
you can be sure that I'll be there."
~ Jesus, Matthew 18:20
~~~~~
What your thoughts on the doorway of being known?
What encourages you to walk through — what is it that holds you back?
:angel:
For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name.
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith.
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!
Amen.
Ephesians 3:14-21
:angel:
The Wrong Bullseye
Apr 30, 2012 Laura Parker
"It never ceases to amaze me how good we are at hitting the bullseye on the wrong target." – Food, Inc., Documentary
I'm sad to confess that I yell at my kids most often when I am trying to finish a p90x workout video in my bedroom. It seems that regardless of how occupied they all appear to be before I push play, they descend on my exercise time like locusts on a fall crop. Suddenly, I have my preschooler sitting on me while I'm trying to do push-ups, and I'm pressing pause faster than I can break a sweat. The older two are fighting. My daughter needs help with the computer. My son can't find a snack in the kitchen. And while the skinny people on the video are squatting and planking and tricep-pressing, I am an irritated mom who's morphing into a she-version of the Incredible Hulk {but, considering the Hulk's physique, maybe that would work in my favor, anyway}.
I just want 40 minutes to myself. What is their problem?! Why can't I just have access to a gym and childcare?
And so, I get angry. And unfortunately for my kids, my angry-self is even less attractive than my working-out-self, if you can imagine. There is stomping and verbal "arghs" and frequent words I have to apologize for later.
We had a friend tell us once that "anger is oftentimes the result of a blocked goal," and I agree. Because my goal of fighting this slowing metabolism is typically blocked by the needs of my three young children. And the result from me is always, always, an angry, selfish one.
I recently picked up a copy of Neil Anderson's book, Getting Anger Under Control, and it struck a chord on many levels. Anderson talks about the subtle but important difference between godly desires and godly goals. Anderson writes that a godly goal is anything that reflects God's will for our lives and is not dependent on other people or circumstances, whereas a godly desire, while potentially good, as well, is dependent on others or circumstances. Anderson writes:
"If we believe that our identity and sense of worth is dependent upon the cooperation of other people and upon favorable circumstances, then we will likely try to control them. When we discover that we can't, then those people or circumstances are blocking us from our goals, and we get angry. If any outcome we desire is uncertain, we feel anxious; and if our goal seems impossible to reach, we get depressed. . .
Even Godly desires will become a problem for us if we raise them to the level of goals."
Anderson explains the difference between goals and desires with several examples, one of which is a woman at the checkout line of a grocery store in a hurry to get home. Her desire is to get in and out of the shop quickly, but the cashier is checking out the customer in front of her painfully slowly. While the rushing woman might have had a desire to accomplish her shopping in five minutes, the woman's larger goal of demonstrating the character of Christ is not blocked by the slow cashier. The shopper can still choose patience and kindness, if her desire remains less important than her goal.
And, suddenly my p90x issues came into focus, because I had been elevating my desire for a workout above my goal to be a Christ-like woman. And it seemed a simple shift of semantics, but it was an important one for me, nonetheless.
Because the truth is that I have already been given everything I need for life and godliness {2 Peter 1:3}. Right now. At this moment. And my challenge is to remember that this goal of loving like Jesus is not blocked by kids that interrupt a workout video.
In fact, interrupting children could be just the catalyst I need to embrace it.
"God's goal for our lives is to become the person He created us to be. Paul said, 'This is the will of God, your sanctification' {1 Thes. 4:3}. Nobody–nothing–on planet Earth can keep us from becoming the person God created us to be. The only ones who can interfere with that goal is ourselves." – Neil Anderson, Getting Anger Under Control
********************
What desire do you typically elevate beyond the greater goal of loving like Christ?
********************
Laura Parker, a freelance writer, lives and blogs from Thailand, where her husband is involved in humanitarian work. You can read more about her life in SouthEast Asia at her blog, ALifeOverseas. You can follow her on twitter at @LauraParkerBlog.
:angel:
Sara's Story
May 01, 2012 Jessica Turner
On Saturday night at our Nashville (in)RL meet-up, I had the honor of introducing Sara's Story to a group of 50 women.
Today, it is my honor to introduce it to you.
But before you watch it, let me tell you a little about Sara.
Sara was by far the most incredible woman I have ever known because of her passion for the Lord and commitment to community.
Before the effects of her debilitating disease prevented her from even leaving her condo, Sara was a magazine writer, a memory keeper and a singer. She loved spending time with her family and friends. Her life was normal, busy, full.
Over time, as the disease took over, Sara's life slowed down. But even though her circumstances limited her physically, she continued to passionately create community.
Her blog, Gitzen Girl, became her outlet for connecting with the "outside," and her words inspired thousands from around the world.
I got to know Sara first through my blog comments, then through email, then the phone and Skype. And by the grace of God, we spent a few glorious hours together in person in August 2011.
Sara became like a sister to me.
She was a kindred spirit who understood me when I couldn't clearly express myself.
She was the kind of friend everyone longs to have.
She was *soul* beautiful.
She understood that community was about relationship.
Sara went to heaven on September 24, 2011. (If you haven't done so in the past, read these moving words shared by her friend Shannon at her wake.) Though her time here on earth was shorter than I (selfishly) would have liked, her impact was immeasurable.
So it seemed perfect that, as the DaySpring (in)courage team brainstormed what (in)RL would look like, and the stories that would be shared, Sara's name immediately came up. (Thank you DaySpring!)
Today, please find 30 minutes to sit and watch this movie of women sharing about Sara, and her demonstration of community done right.
You will be glad that you did.
Be sure to also check of the "Choose Joy" printables inspired by Sara, as well as other (in)RL resources here.
Humbly,
Jessica
:angel:
I'm going to break your heart.
May 01, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver
Inviting people to a party (especially from the comfort of my computer) wasn't hard. Baking cupcakes and making centerpieces that don't look like something my 4-year-old made at preschool was a bit harder, but still not that difficult.
What's hard is getting past the "hi, how are you," taking off our shoes and our masks, and really getting to know one another. That part? It's HARD. It's hard because intentionally gathering women into community (and joining them there) is choosing to reach out, to connect, to love even though you might get hurt.
It's possible – no, probable – that one of your friends is going to let you down. She'll ignore too many phone calls, she'll ditch your weekly happy hour for dinner with her new boyfriend, she'll believe a lie she hears about you, she'll roll her eyes at your story, she'll invite all the other girls but you, she'll hurt you. She may not mean to – or maybe she will – but your friend will probably hurt you at some point.
So what is the point? Why should we let people in, when they're just going to hurt us like those other people did? And, to be fair, why should they let us in, when we might end up hurting them?
We've all been disappointed or hurt by friends. Friends who weren't there, who needed too much, who held back, who didn't care. So who's to say our new friends won't do the same?
Nothing. We have no guarantees that the people we interact with, connect with, live with won't hurt us. If anything, we can pretty much assume that those we let in, those we are closest to, those we love most are going to hurt us.
And they don't have a guarantee about us, either. Nobody wants to be the first to admit it, but who hasn't disappointed a friend? Who hasn't said something they wish they could take back or forgotten a birthday or shared a rumor or simply not had the energy to call, to listen, to care? When it comes down to it, we're all guilty of hurting others.
I heard a song on the radio last week. It's a pop song that I've heard (and, I won't lie, danced to) dozens of times, but I had never really thought about the words. The singer is telling a girl he's just met, "I'm only going to break your heart."
Well, technically he says, "I'm only gonna break, break your, break, break your heart" – and he says it over and over. But you get the message. He's warning this person that even if he seems great and their brand-new relationship is all glitter and roses and happy dances, heartbreak is inevitable. Whether it happens tomorrow or years down the road, he's going to break her heart.
What if we all walked around saying that? "Hi, my name is Mary. It's nice to meet you, but you should know: I'm definitely going to break your heart."
Can you imagine? Can you imagine if we went into every new relationship knowing that we're going to get hurt? Not in a fatalistic sort of way, but in an attitude of acceptance and determination. What if we went into each new friendship saying, "I know you might hurt me. And I might hurt you. In fact, we can probably just count on it. But I know it will be worth it. Because you're going to love me, and I'm going to love you. It's going to get messy and awkward and difficult, but if we just hold tight, it will be beautiful and healing and amazing, too."
As I think about the women that I've started getting to know over the past few months, the women who've shared their hearts and dreams and struggles with me, I'm a little nervous. It's one thing to talk about our kids or the book we're reading or even the stories from our past that have shaped us, but to really let someone in? That's hard.
So, deep breath. Here goes. Hi. My name is Mary. I want to be your friend, and I'm going to break your heart.
Tell us about a new friend you've made recently. Or a not-so-new friend you want to get to know better!
:angel: :angel:
Catching Frogs
May 02, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
From suburban Southern California, my family made the trip to Northern Indiana during a handful of summers when I was a little girl to visit my mother's parents who were aging but not yet old. My grandfather did many things: he was a college professor, he mentored teenagers, he was a property manager and he ran a working farm. All at the same time.
As girls, we didn't need a playground because my sister and I had nearly free reign of the property. After visiting the horses, running through the rows of prickly cucumbers and passing the chicken coop, we'd run up to the hay barn. All we needed was a barn full of bales upon bales open on one side to the Indiana summer.
We climbed and ran and jumped and fell and scraped little arms on the scratchy bales. And we caught the tiny frogs that lived in and near the hay. My sister and I competed to see who could catch the most.
The only way to hold a little frog, if you are a little girl, is in your little summer hand.
The frogs were so small that even our little hands held several at a time. We'd catch and hold, and catch another and hold and stuff them into one hand while we used the other to climb and catch more frogs.
With one hand full of amphibians, we ran full speed back to the house, fully intending on showing our "crop" with our mother. We expected the frogs to jump wildly out of our hands as we opened them in front of her summer skirt.
I called for her as I climbed the back porch steps and when she came to meet us, I unclenched my fingers.
Six little frogs. All dead.
I'd been squeezing them so hard during my flight around the barn and on my trip back that I'd killed every last one of them.
I shook the frogs from my hand, disgusted with them now as they flew into the dirt by the back door. I remember thinking that I had been the killer of something alive. That I'd murdered something that was jumping and full of life minutes ago and my stomach sunk when I thought about them jumping back in the barn.
Holding frogs is like holding grudges.
When we are in relationship with another person, we hold a living thing in our hands. Our spouses, our children, our mothers, our sisters. Or even the people that don't matter as much: The other mother at your son's school or the cousin you don't talk with much any more.
We carry in our palms the most important resources on the planet: people.
When we don't forgive one another their mistakes, their humanness, or the ways they've hurt us, we clench our hands around their hearts. And we begin to squeeze.
When we try so hard to carry the hurt further and farther along our journey without forgiveness, we don't know that we are doing it, but we murder them. We hold grudges in our grimy little hands, maybe even with good hearts, but hearts full of hurt. We might even know that the hurts will wound us beyond repair, yet we carry them still.
Not only do we kill the relationship and any chance of healing but in some small way we murder a part of ourselves too when we don't forgive.
The day I killed the frogs a little piece of my girlhood died. It might seem minor, but to a little girl who would honestly never hurt a fly, killing is a big deal. I left a small bit of my heart in that barn on simply trying to carry something that did not want to be carried.
Grudges, hurt and forgiveness should not be carried. We ruin ourselves and we ruin those around us when we do.
Can we let it go today? Can we open our hands, unclench our fists before we kill what we do not intend to kill? Can we let go of our grudges?
by Sarah Markley, who tries very hard every day to keep her heart free and to tries to let go what should not be carried.
:angel:
The Fight of My Life
May 02, 2012 01:10 am | leebirdmerrill
I think my cell phone touch screen is worn slap out.
Time and time again, I find myself checking for email, Twitter mentions, and Facebook wall post. Proof of acceptance. Proof that someone is thinking of me. Proof that I'm OK.
My self-focus is like a rip tide supplanting my footing and sucking me into dangerous depths.
Soon, I find myself flailing in the murky, black waters where all I can think about is me, me, me. In those waters, everything I do and say is for personal gain. Service becomes self-promotion. Prayer becomes public display. Encouragement becomes eager fishing for approval.
Recently, as I lay in bed begging God to restore a friendship I never thought I'd lose, God spoke.
Lee, picture what your life would be like if you hungered for more of me as much as you hunger for human approval. I have so much more to give you. So much more. When will you stop this striving for the lesser thing?
My heart sank deep into the mattress as His words settled in.
What do I do, Lord?
In the quiet, I waited on Him.
With His finger, he traced His instructions on my heart.
Take your "heart medicine" every morning. Let My Word regulate your heart to beat in rhythm with Mine.
"I gain understanding from your precepts; therefore I hate every wrong path. Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path." (Psalm 119:104-105 NIV)
Let Me renew your mind. Every time your thoughts stray toward human approval, call out to Me. Say My name. Sing My praises. Simply say, "Help!"
"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." (Romans 12:2 NIV)
Trip up the tempter. The evil one knows human approval is a foothold he can use to paralyze you. He will continue to jab at you until you jab back. Every time you make the choice to focus on Me, a tiny piece of that foothold crumbles. Continued obedience destroys footholds, giving the evil one no place to stand.
"We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." (2 Corinthians 10:5 NIV)
Hide My Word in your heart. Replace his lies with My truth. When the lies swoop through your heart like a garbage heap breeze, let My Spirit wind clear the air.
"I seek you with all my heart; do not let me stray from your commands. I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you." (Psalm 119:10-11 NIV)
Start now and don't stop. It's time to get stubborn. No more quitting when life gets hard. No more letting your guard down "just this once." No more idols. I am Your God.
"Get rid of the vile images you have set your eyes on, and do not defile yourselves with the idols of Egypt. I am the LORD your God." (Ezekiel 20:7 NIV)
Lord, I'm so sorry. So sorry I keep adding bricks to Satan's foothold into my life. It's time to tear that foothold down. Give me an insatiable craving for Your word and Your presence. Give me a hatred for my sin and a fierce determination to be holy. I can't do it with sheer effort. I need Your power coursing through my mental, emotional, and spiritual muscles. Beef me up, Lord, for Your glory and my good. AMEN
By: LeeBird, Prayer Gifts
:angel: :angel:
On Comparing Yourself
May 03, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne
Every login, every click thru, nearly every email, has the potential to make me feel so inadequate.
The beautiful homes on Pinterest shine a light on my crayon scribbled fingerprinted walls and the many piles of laundry waiting to be folded.
The bloggers with their gorgeous photography point out how badly I need a lesson on how to use a camera.
The beauty tutorials on Youtube make me wonder how I ever survived not knowing how to apply liquid eyeliner before now.
Every new success on Facebook reminds me of my failures.
It's so very easy to get sucked in, isn't it?
But oh, sister, Jesus wants us to be reminded of truth. To ignore those lies that we aren't enough. To step away if it becomes too much.
We all, each of us, are in different seasons of life. We make different choices, and God has different plans. Jealousy can so quietly slip in and take root and slip it's vine-shaped lies around our throat, and squeeze.
Squeeze until we're nearly suffocated, and can't even hear God's Spirit wooing us back to Him.
The best weapon against this stuff? Gratitude, quiet (unplugging), prayer and more prayer.
What to pray for? Ask God to refine your heart and buff out those harder edges that need softening towards others, the edges that make you feel like you don't measure up. The edges that make you forget how blessed you really are, even if those blessings don't look like everyone else's. It's grace to realize when these issues pop up, grace when we can rest in the truth that Jesus is in the business of redeeming. And grace when He forgives us for forgetting it.
Do you need to take time off from the compare-a-lot habit you've acquired? Have you been sucked in in the past and learned your lesson? We'd love to hear your stories.
***
:angel:
Sometimes I Talk Too Much
May 04, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
I was in the 7th grade at a track meet. I was irritated at a teammate. I ran up to a group of runners from my school and started gossiping about the girl. Everyone was perfectly still. No one said a word.
I looked down at the girl sitting at my feet and it was the very one I was talking about.
That's a hard lesson for a 13 year old girl who wants to be seen as a Christian on campus.
My mouth has always gotten me in trouble.
There.
I said it.
It's a confession: I talk too much.
Oh, I'm not a gabber. I hate talking on the phone and I really only blab one-on-one. I'm the quiet one in a crowd.
But I would say 95% of the trouble I get myself into is tongue-related. The other 5% is eating too much, also related. Hmmm....
It's not so much quantity of words, it's more quality. Whether it's conflict with my husband, strife with my kiddos or chatting with a girlfriend, I usually end up regretting what comes out of my mouth.
The Bible offers some great advice on shutting it.
This truth in James 3 is just plain painful:
5-6 It only takes a spark, remember, to set off a forest fire. A careless or wrongly placed word out of your mouth can do that. By our speech we can ruin the world, turn harmony to chaos, throw mud on a reputation, send the whole world up in smoke and go up in smoke with it, smoke right from the pit of hell.
7-10 This is scary: You can tame a tiger, but you can't tame a tongue—it's never been done. The tongue runs wild, a wanton killer. With our tongues we bless God our Father; with the same tongues we curse the very men and women he made in his image. Curses and blessings out of the same mouth!
The tongue- a wild, wanton killer. That about sums it up. I engage verbally with my tween when I should just hush. I throw out the last word with my hubby when I should be quiet.
But the power of the tongue is two-fold! I love the promise my lips hold. I love that when I choose to speak life, it encourages, uplifts, blesses.
It all comes down to a controlled choice.
Summing up: Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble. That goes for all of you, no exceptions. No retaliation. No sharp-tongued sarcasm. Instead, bless—that's your job, to bless. You'll be a blessing and also get a blessing. I Peter 3: 8
I'm thankful for the work of the cross, new mercies every morning. I still struggle in this area, almost daily.
Five Reasons I Need to Hush: (Also titled: Five Truths God is Teaching Me about my Big Mouth)
1. What's in my heart comes out of my mouth: If my heart isn't in the right place, my words will be a reflection. "From the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh..." When my words are negative, when I'm complaining more than praising or in verbal conflict, I usually need a heart checkup. I often find that my lack of control is closely related to my lack of time with God.
2. I can have a greater impact in the conversation by listening more: Memorize James 1:19-20 "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires."
3. It's often our tendency to tear down, rather than build up: It's amazing the difference I see in my kids when I choose the option of building up and affirming them instead of criticizing their behavior or actions.
4. If my words aren't healthy or redemptive to the person receiving it, I shouldn't say them. Ask yourself: Will the people I'm talking to walk away encouraged or discouraged by my words?
5. Be spiritual by being quiet. My pastor says "Sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is be quiet." Just hush.
Take the Word Challenge
Since this is an area of weakness for me, I decided to challenge myself to be quiet for an entire day. It's not that I didn't say anything, I just made an effort to make my words meaningful and encouraging. It was really challenging when it came to disciplining my kids. I noticed my ugly tendency to tear down. I encourage you to try it and ask God to reveal truth to you if you struggle in this area.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
When You Feel Like You Live On A Treadmill
Exhausted, I stare down into the sink. It's clogged. Has been for several weeks. When it does slowly drain it leaves a dark grimy film, and no matter how many times I scour it, the grime returns each time it's clogged.
(Which is daily.)
I stare at the water; it isn't going anywhere. I look up into the mirror, my face red from exertion, hair soaked with sweat. I just got off the treadmill.
The absurdity of it strikes me: I'm exhausted from running nowhere.
In so many ways.
Tears sting my eyes as my reflection blurs sideways. I had thought about it while running, had thought about how ridiculous it was to run, all alone, for forty minutes and not get anywhere.
Why God?
Why am I getting nowhere?
Everyday I get up. You do too. Everyday we obey God in the mundane details of life behind the scenes. We wipe counters, noses, and bottoms. We listen, labor, love–often alone. We wash, work, worship. And then we wake up the next morning and do it all again.
Kinda sounds like a treadmill to me.
I poured this out to Him as I ran, one foot in front of the other, scenery never changing. The only thing ahead of me was a wall.
That's how my days feel sometimes as well.
My exercise is in obedience to God. I'm obeying Him with my body. He clearly called me to this, so I obey. Get up each morning. Get on my knees. Spread out His Word. Ask. Seek. Lace up the shoes. Run the miles. Write the words. Raise the kids.
Repeat.
Sometimes the scenery never changes.
Then why run it?
I ask Him this, these exact words, while pounding out the steps, keeping pace with prayer. His still small voice:
"Because you're training."
Tears fall on the treadmill.
Yes. Of course. He's training me. He's training you. These long days where the scenery never changes. These long days putting one foot in front of the other. These long days with nothing ahead but a wall. These long days alone. When we're sweating and exhausted and getting nowhere at all ... we're training.
We're getting stronger. We're building endurance. We're learning not to quit.
The scenery may never change, but we're changing.
That's why we run on a treadmill. Why we do the duties each day, choosing to delight instead of despise, because we choose to believe He's changing us as we are faithful in the small things each day.
Oh sister, I know the Sacred Mundane can be hard. There's no adrenalin rush in the trenches of life. I know it's not exhilarating to run on a treadmill, alone, staring at a wall and getting nowhere. Doing the duties no one else sees and at the end of the day looking around and wondering, All that work ... for what?
For faithfulness.
Because God is watching, sister. Because God is training you for His glory. Building endurance, building character, growing some choice fruit that can only grow in the shade.
When the scenery never changes, keep running.
When no one's there to cheer, keep running.
When all that's ahead is that same bleak wall, keep running.
When it seems you're getting nowhere, keep running.
Race Day may come and you'll be ready. Opportunity may knock and you'll open that door. But most importantly, a day will come when you hear the most glorious words,
"Well done; you have been faithful with little things. Enter into My joy."
Keep running.
–
{Feel like you're running hard and getting nowhere today? Please know your sisters here are cheering you on. How can we pray for you? Please let us know ... thanks for reading!}
From Kari Patterson, Sacred Mundane
:angel:
Love. And Grace.
May 03, 2012 02:27 pm | Deidra
It's been twenty-three years since I sat in that hospital room, waiting for someone with just a little bit of common sense to walk in and speak some truth into the situation. I mean, seriously? They were going to let me take this baby home? What were they thinking? What was I thinking?
Ten little fingers and ten sweet toes and raspberry lips in a bow. Long eyelashes resting like silk on creamy, toffee skin. And a sweet, baby smell that completely undid me. Didn't these people know that if I took this baby home I would break him? Where was the instruction booklet? Where was the test to see if I knew what I was doing? Seriously. What were we thinking?
Who among us really knows what she's doing when we make a baby and bring him home? When we put him on the bus for kindergarten, or give her the keys to the car, or drop him off at college, or move her into her very first apartment with the door that sticks and the bottom step that squeaks?
Back in that hospital, no one ever came running down the corridor, waving their arms in the air and shouting, "Wait! Stop! This woman cannot take this baby home! She has no idea how to be a mother!" Nope. They just calmly brought me the papers to sign, made me sit down in the wheelchair, and put that baby in my arms. Then, we rode down the elevator and through the door of the hospital without even one glimmer of hesitation from any of those hospital people. The security guard didn't even glance in my direction.
So, we did the only thing we could do. We grew up together. Along the way we broke each other. And we healed each other. And we kept growing up together. There's no way around the mistakes. There is no getting through this motherhood thing without a heartbreak or two. There is no escaping sleepless nights and tough decisions.
So here it is: your permission to be the imperfect mother that you are. Because perfect is just too much pressure. We'll never get there. Not this side of heaven. But we've got two things that make it all work. We've got love and we've got grace. The thing we're really good at? We are good at loving those ten fingers and toes and the way that baby smells and the way they grow and make us grow right along with them. And God has grace enough to fill in all the places we fall short. So go ahead. Be your imperfect self – head over heels in love with that baby or that toddler or that teenager or that college graduate. And hang on tight to God, letting Him fill all the empty spaces with grace.
By: Deidra, Jumping Tandem
{Did you see that lovely picture of DaySpring's Bless this Home Wall Art up above? It's on sale this month for only $24.99– that's $20 off! If you are looking for a perfect Mother's Day Gift, or need to give the husband a couple hints, jump on over and take a look at DaySpring's Mother's Day Selection!}
:angel: :angel:
What Your Heart Needs to Hear Most Today...
May 05, 2012 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
What are the words you wonder about in the middle of the night, the quiet moments, the carpool line?
What are you're afraid to believe but really, really wish you could?
I'm loved,
I really can do this.
I'm chosen for a purpose.
Whatever it is, it's scandalously true.
Not because you dreamed it up. Or you think it would be nice. Or maybe you've finally earned it.
It's true because the God who spoke the world into being has whispered his heart to you too...
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him {Psalm 103:11}
I can do all this through him who gives me strength. {Philippians 4:13}
This is what the Lord says..."I have called you by name, you are mine." {Isaiah 43:1}
We don't have to just wish. We can deep-in-our-bones know. Easy? Nope, not in this fallen world. But with the One Who Loves Us and each other it really is possible.
What's one truth your heart is holding on to right now?
–Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing
:angel:
:angel: Thank you for posting this today, Miss Judy. I truly appreciate your postive attitude. :angel:
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior."
~Habakkuk 3:17-18
:angel:
How to Let Go of Mama Guilt
May 07, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
I heard Gwenyth Paltrow ask it once, and I shook my head in agreement,
"What is it about all this guilt that comes with motherhood?"
Indeed Gwenyth, one does come with the other. No matter one's wealth or status or age, we moms know the pang of guilt.
Oh sure, I feel guilt over a plethora of parenting mistakes, like hollering at my kids and forgetting important school events. And for these smaller things, I'm learning to repent and ask for forgiveness while not buying into false guilt. But then there are the bigger life choices and circumstances that wash a tidal wave of guilt right over me, like the three years our children went to three different schools.
For the first year, our sons attended a private school. While it had many things going for it, it clearly wasn't the best choice for our boys. The second year, I homeschooled. I tried to do it well and to love it, but I failed on both counts. My precious relationships with my boys suffered. So after praying long and hard, my husband and I felt God decidedly urging us to give the public school a go. And the year went swimmingly until the end of the year when a bullying situation hit one of my boys so fast and furiously, the year ended on the lowest of the lows. And while my son now thrives in a fantastic school, I can still get caught up in the guilt, crying over regrettable choices and all the coulda, shoulda, woulda's.
So this leads me to ask: When our own choices and life circumstances throw our children into harsh difficulties, how do we move past the guilt that comes with the territory?
We know to apologize. We tell the Lord and our children we're sorry. Then we take it one step further and ask our children to forgive us. Because as Andy Andrews says, asking for forgiveness can heal virtually any wound.
And then there is something else we must do, and I learned this from the apostle Paul.
If there is one rock star of Scripture who had a reason to feel guilty, it's Paul. Before Paul became a Christian, he was bent on destroying God's children: the church. And he succeeded in persecuting and killing many Christians. But after he met Christ, he penned this to the church in Philippi:
I'm not saying I have it all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward – to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back. Philippians 3:12-14, The Message (emphasis mine)
While Paul referred to himself as the worst of sinners, he still had a healthy perspective about his identity in Christ. And why? Because he did not wallow in his sins or let guilt swallow him. Instead, Paul reached out for Christ. He moved outward, not inward. He knew the law of the Spirit of life set him free from condemnation, sin, and death. So he repented, asked for forgiveness, and moved on with his eye towards the goal: more Jesus.
Paul was not some super spiritual special case. The same freedom he lived is available to us, too. Let's own our mistakes and ask for forgiveness. Let's move outward, not inward. And then, like Paul, let's be off and running, quick to receive God's grace so guilt doesn't have a moment to settle in. Let's make room for the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit to fill every square inch of our heart and soul so that the only things we wallow in is His light and love.
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death. Romans 8:1-2
Do you struggle with mama guilt? What are some ways you combat it so you wallow in Truth not tears?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Barren Beauty
May 07, 2012 01:10 am | jess
What happens when you awaken to the fact that life is not quite what you imagined it to be? When hopes and dreams are not coming to fruition and you can see no way clear that they ever will? What happens when you wake up to a tantrum and it's your own?
These grown up temper tantrums are not the throw yourself on the ground and kick and scream, although sometimes it does seem tempting. No. Grown-up tantrums take on a grown up kind of feel. They are manifested through various ways. It could be a subtle emotional disconnect from husband, children, loved ones. It could be a checking out of the moment and living in the 'what ifs'.
It can be listening to lies that eventually spread to reality skewing what is truth.
But no matter how the tantrum manifests itself, what we are saying is this: 'I don't like this—this is not what I hoped for, dreamed for, planned for and I want it changed...now!'
Surrender is one key to stopping the tantrum.
Surrender to God who breathes stars and by his voice put this world in motion and is also in control of my personal little world.
Trust is the other.
Trust that he has my back and everything I experience goes through the filter of his love—including difficulties. Especially difficulties.
Staying the course when I ride the same conflict wheel over and over again like a little hamster in a wheel makes me want to scream. Staying the course when my decisions are questioned by people who matter can grip me with indecision. Staying the course when I'm not really at the beginning and I am not at the end, but somewhere in the middle feels like an unending road trip.
Growing up on the plains of Montana I know the meaning of 'middle of nowhere' and up there, you have to stay the course to get to your destination. There are no pit stops. The road stretches out unendingly before you and the landscape appears to engulf you. Some have called the plains of Montana desolate and barren, but I have learned to see the beauty.
Is it possible to view this 'staying the course' time as beauty as well? When all seems barren and desolate and I long to turn back or take a different course, couldn't I ask for my eyes to be opened to the beauty of this time?
I need to look for Isaiah 41:18-19: 'I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys. I will turn the desert into pools of water and parched ground into springs. I will put in the desert the cedar and the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive. I will set pines in the wasteland, the fir and the cypress together, so that people may see and know, may consider and understand, that the hand of the Lord has done this, that the Holy One has created it.'
I have learned that the Lord's power is more majestic and amazing when it is showcased against a backdrop of a barren and desolate landscape. Could it be that during this 'staying the course' time, the Lord is simply waiting for me to trust Him and to trust His power in my life?
Could we agree together that no matter the landscape we will surrender and trust Him to turn barrenness into beauty? He will, my friend, and it will knock your socks off. And when he does, will you rejoice with me?
Jess
:angel: :angel:
Gift From Above
May 08, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer
I am a May baby and I received such a sweet gift from my mom for my birthday. A personal birthday cake, in a special mug, just for me. Having your own individual cake makes you feel extra special! We all want to make our loved ones feel extra special. They are, after all, precious gifts from above!
You start with a box of angel food cake mix and a box of regular cake mix in any flavor. (We used a white cake mix.) Mix together in a sealed bag or container. This can be stored in a cabinet for making gifts or your own personal cakes.
Take 3 TBSP of the cake mix you just mixed up and put that into a small bag.
Print off one of the gift tags and the instruction tag. Just click on the tag you would like to use and you will be given the option to download or open a PDF file that you can print out.
Cut the tags out. Punch out the hole. I like to add a little ink around the edges of my tags.
Get a pretty mug that will be used for the gift. The mug pictured is from DaySpring's Ever Grateful line.
Use a piece of ribbon or twine to tie the gift tag and the instruction tag to the mug. Put the small bag of cake mix into the bottom.
You can put a little something extra in the mug as well. The options are endless. I put a few fresh strawberries in this mug right before I gave it as a gift.
The instructions are really simple. You just empty the little bag of cake mix into the mug and add 2 TBSP of water. After mixing, it will cook in the microwave for 1 minute.
That is it! A perfect little, individual cake.
Cut the strawberries to put on top and top that with a spoon of whipped cream!
This is a simple and sweet reminder to those we love that we see them as a gift to us. A perfect gift from HIM to us. You can use this individual cake as a gift for any number of occasions or simply as a loving treat.
Every good and perfect gift is from above. James 1:17
What is a special birthday memory that you hold close to your heart?
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
PS from me, Judy
My special memory is, Each birthday we got to chooe the kind of cake mom made for us. dad liked anything with cherries in it, sis liked chocolate cake and brother just liked cake, no matter what kind (oh, not coconut) I always asked for Date nut cake.
while everyone was still home, mom enjoyed baking and of course, we loved to eat it.
a few years before she passed away, I was going to get to spend my birthday with all the family. My BD is the 26th of November and since I was born on thanksgiving day, always consider that my birthday, date or not.
so mom asked what kind of cake I wanted and of course, I said Date nut. she made it, but when I got to Topeka and the greetings were over, she told me NEVER TO ask for that cake again. She didn't remember it being so much work. LOL She was giggling the whole time she said this. But, I still haven't talked myself into making that cake. after all I can't do better than she did. I have the reciept, so someday i may tackle this. Happy Mothers Day !
It's all for You...
May 09, 2012 01:20 am | Especially Heather
"Mountains bow down to give you glory, oceans will roar with praise. Creation breathes to tell Your story, and to lift up Your name because it's all for You. You are the Alpha & Omega, beginning and the end. You are the Lord my redeemer and in You alone I stand." — Coffey Anderson
My husband flew me out to Cape Cod for Good Friday, and as I was walking the harbor I realized something. I realized that in spite of the heartache in my life – overall my life is really pretty awesome. When I look at my husband {who still swoons over me some 19+ years after we wed} I feel so complete and loved. When I think about my remaining children {who put up with me, despite my overbearing neurotic tendencies} I feel complete and loved.
And when I think of my daughter Emma Grace in heaven, living with the Lord {despite every possible act and plea to keep her here}, I feel overwhelmed with emotions that are no longer sadness or joy.. but a mixture of both.
"You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety" -Psalm 4:8
Sometimes, I get so lost in my despairing emotions that I fail to stop and see the blessings that are right in front of me. I have to be reminded of Gods love, grace and most of all His mercy.
"You didn't have to give Your life, but you chose to. You didn't have to, but You did..."
He didn't have to get beaten and carry the cross that He eventually died on. He could have said "enough", but he didn't. He could have chosen to walk away and leave us in our sins, but He didn't.
″I tell you," he replied, "if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out." – Luke 19:40
He created the universe, and the universe will praise Him, even if we don't. Think about that, the rocks will not keep silent in praise to Him, and yet we choose to not see His abundant mercy and love for us? Let me rephrase that...
I choose not to see His abundant mercy and love for me....
Starting now, I will choose joy. I will choose to praise my heavenly daddy. I will choose to see the goodness around me; The goodness that only comes from Him.
So here is my invitation to you:
Will you join me in choosing to see the bright side of His love? Will you start each and everyday looking for the good instead of the bad? Will you join me in expecting good things? I am tired of being tired, and I know that you are too.
:angel:
Beauty Is In The Heart Of The Beholder
May 09, 2012 01:10 am | Deborah DeArmond
Jesus looks at our hearts and judges us beautiful, clean, His own. Can we find the beauty in others? Can you choose to see them through His eyes?
"Bless her heart! She clearly doesn't have a friend in the world. If she did, they would have told her never to wear that outfit again!"
Meet my "inner judge". She has escaped and is on the loose again. And even when she's captured, it's like trying to stuff a jack in the box back down inside and out of sight.
"Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. For you will be treated as you treat others. The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged." Matt 7:1-2
"The Lord doesn't see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:7b NLT
Even though we know that a way to escape being judged is to withhold judging others, we can't quite get there. After all, I'm not really judging, I tell myself. I'm simply expressing my opinion. The problem is that once we start down a critical path, it's a slippery slope. And we've opened ourselves up to the work of the enemy. God's desire is always to see us built up. The enemy's goal is to tear down.
Jesus was clear – don't go there. In John chapter 8, He himself is cautioning others not to judge Him. As my pastor recently said, "Jesus couldn't get a job today in His own church. He didn't have a Divinity degree, didn't even attend Bible school, never owned anything of real value, traveled around with a bunch of misfits, hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes. He needed a haircut and He never married." That resume would have been quickly tossed into the "no thanks" pile.
All we have is our paltry human standards as criterion. And that's a pretty pitiful set of guidelines. And we forget that we are subject to those same standards from those around us. Everyone but Him.
So how do we avoid becoming the judge once we've shoved her back in the box? Don't carry the box around! Burn it on the altar of your heart! It's not my job to assess and pronounce sentence on those around me on every issue from fashion to lifestyle. It IS my job to love them, pray for them, and share the Word and the joyful acceptance by God of who we are with them. It's up to Him to address those things that are not pleasing to Him. And my guess is that the fact that those shoes do not go with that dress is really of very little interest to Him.
As a parent, the Father is none too pleased to see one of His children judged critically. He is pretty protective. And He has chosen to use some pretty odd folks along the way. I'm pretty sure John, hanging out in the wilderness, clothed in animal skins, got a lot of folks talking.
I will choose, Lord, to see those around me with new eyes. Eyes that watched the crowd mock you while He chose to see me as beautiful, worthy of your death on the cross. "
If you judge people, you have no time to love them. Remind me today Lord, that you alone are appointed and qualified to judge. Help me "burn the box!"
By Deb DeArmond, MyPurposeNow
:angel: :angel:
For A Rainy Day
May 10, 2012 08:47 am | Deidra
I lost my umbrella when we moved. It was cute and girly and a little bit whimsical. Just what I needed on rainy days when the wind whipped up and fat raindrops dive bombed the earth, my windshield, and my brightly painted toenails. Without that umbrella, I'd hop over puddles and skip across the parking lot to make it to the office door before my hair went poof. Before the thunderclouds beat me down.
Sometimes my life is like that. Storm clouds form and burst wide open before I can make my way from one place to another. The rain beats me down and sends me running for cover before the entire day ahead of me unravels and goes poof. Sometimes what a girl needs is a little bit of covering. Sometimes it helps to look up and know He rejoices over us with singing, even when the weather takes a turn and sends us hopping across the parking lot in search of a safe place for our feet to land.
The image of God rejoicing when He looks at me is more than enough to make me smile. I mean, I know me and I know that sometimes rejoicing is the last thing I deserve. I know I can be the source of the thunderclouds in my home, and that my harsh words sometimes can strike like lightning in my family's life. I know sometimes I'm the reason for the storm. I also know sometimes life gets so heavy I can barely see my way through the dark and the fog of laundry and teens out past curfew and things that go bump in the night. But none of that matters to God. Whether I'm shining light, or just muddling my way through the darkness, God looks at me and He starts humming. Girlfriend, just knowing that is enough to keep my day from going poof (even though my hair may still have a mind of its own).
Last week, I replaced my lost umbrella with this cute and girly and whimsical umbrella from DaySpring's Good Things collection. I love it even more than the one I lost. If you're reviewing an item from this month's selection, link up your post below!
:angel:
Testing Unfine
May 10, 2012 01:20 am | Deidra
The Monday after (in)RL, I decided to give Lisa-Jo's "unfine" a try. I decided, when I went to work on Monday, that I would not say I was "fine" if I wasn't. And lately, work has been way less than fine. We've been in a season of crazy expectations, unrealistic deadlines, limited resources, and overworked associates. No. We have not been fine.
Normally, I pass my coworkers in the stairwell, and we do the Hi-how-are-you?-Just-fine-thanks-and-you? thing. Or we gather together in the cafeteria at the beginning of the day where we catch up on the latest news headlines, find out who watched what on television the night before, and share little bits of our lives. We skim across the surface of our families and of our hopes and dreams. We don't go deep, and I'm not really sure just how real we get.
So on Monday morning, when my colleague asked me how I was, I took a deep breath and said, "Oh, you know. Crazy day ahead." Those two sentences were like the key that opened up her heart. She shared with me the struggles of her workload, and then some of her frustrations with her family, and some of her deepest hurts. It was amazing. And beautiful. Right there in the cafeteria of a major corporation, with microwaves beeping and the Today Show talking to us from the television on the wall.
How in the world could I have know that one "unfine" could open up so much? But that's just the point, isn't it? Community is built on the gritty, messy, imperfect bedrock of all the places we are not okay. It's when I push through pretense and take the risk of letting you see my dirty dishes in the sink, or rub my feet when I'm sick, or help me sort through the muck of a family falling apart.
We are not supposed to do this alone. As much as I want to guard my heart and my reputation and your impression of me, God has designed it so that community works best when I am real with you. Community works best when we are real, and sometimes unfine is the most direct route.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
A little beauty goes a long way
May 11, 2012 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
This morning, I stepped over no fewer than five stinky, balled-up socks en route to the bathroom. After breakfast, I scrubbed congealed oatmeal off the kitchen table where the 4-year-old sat. I asked for happy hearts to reign during this busy day, and was returned with blank stares. And of course, there was a dirty diaper.
I'm not complaining. This is the stuff of life, and it's all sign of living with humans, among those I'm rearing and guiding towards maturity. Hugely thankful for that.
And I'd argue there's even a certain beauty to it all—the snot-encrusted face that grins with devotion as he hands me his paci to give it a try. ("No thank you. No... I'm good. Really. Please stop," I say as he crams that sucker against my mouth.)
But this dirty, daily grind can honestly overwhelm me if I don't add a splash of genuine beauty in to my everyday. It's true... I'm a girl. I thrive on beauty.
In all my homes and in all my travels, I've learned that I'm wired to highly value aesthetically-pleasing things. I used to feel guilty about that, as though it meant I was shallow or ungrateful for the less-than-perfect in my life.
I now know it's symptomatic of my being made by a creative Creator. God, more than any other human that ever existed, loves and values beauty. He's the Ultimate Artist. The Master Sculptor. The Genius who thought up color.
Why else would He paint delicate stripes and patterns on deep-sea fish that no human would ever likely see? What is His purpose behind every single blossom on every single tree? Any specific reason snowflakes are all completely unique?
He places a high, high value on beauty. On creativity. I figure it's more than okay that I do, too.
So I like to add a dash of that into my everyday, and I have to say—it helps my attitude. It causes me pause when I'm up to my elbows in dirty dishes. Here are a few ways I do that:
1. I play Pandora or Spotify almost all day long.
My stations change per the family's mood, but music can subtly, drastically, add beauty to the humdrum of home life. Plato once said, "Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul."
2. I often light a candle.
Traditionally-scented candles give me headaches, but naturally-scented soy candles quietly bring order and awaken my creativity. It's surprising how easily a scent transforms mood. I can still remember the sweet cinnamon smell of a childhood friend's house... I want my kids to one day say the same about our home.
3. I open the blinds—and the windows—when it's nice outside.
Natural light is good for your mind, your heart, and your health. I'm prone to Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I can testify to the power behind good lighting. Go out of your way to throw open the sashes of your home and see if you're more energetic. (And I'd love to see an actual sash on a home.)
4. I fill my mind with beautiful words.
Even if it's for five minutes, I aim to read or listen to poetry (or poetic words) each day. Be it a morning in the Psalms, a good word through a podcast while I fold laundry, or a well-written novel before bedtime, words are powerful. And they don't always need be utilitarian, though some of the most beautifully-crafted words and phrases often find meaning in my life anyhow. I just love to inhale, fully digest lovely words for its own sake. For my own sake.
These little things are beautiful, and beauty is essential to my mood. They help me lift my head to the heavens. I like to go out of my way to find it at home.
What speaks beauty into your daily grind?
By Tsh of Simple Mom
:angel:
On The Business Of Raising Boys
May 11, 2012 01:10 am | Krystle Bowen
This is a huge responsibility, this raising of boys.
We are raising the next generation of leaders
We are raising future husbands and fathers.
We are raising boys that will someday have a wife that they need to love, cherish, respect, and adore.
We are showing them, with our love, how to be a team.
How to talk to one another.
Do they see us respecting one another in our disagreements, in our struggles?
Do they see us pray when times get tough and the world is a mess around us?
Do they see us seek joy and praise Him even when we weep?
We are teaching them to treat women with respect, can you see boys, how your Daddy respects me?
How he still, after these almost 9 years of marriage, dates me, surprises me, adores me....
We are teaching them to treat girls, and women well.
In an age where girls flaunt themselves like pieces of property
and disrespect themselves by the clothes they wear,
the words they say and the actions they take...
How do we raise these boys to close their eyes to that, to refrain from that?
How do we teach them to resist those temptations, to stand firm and wait?
To keep themselves until that day they walk down the altar.
In an age where men have been asked to become less than,
how do we teach them to be bold leaders and take the charge and be strong and manly?
We pray, we pray a prayer of desperation....
Guard their hearts, their minds, their bodies.
Put your family first, your job is second.
God should be at the center.
You need to lead, don't let others tell you different.
You were made to be the leader, don't let this world strip you of your manhood and become something less than intended.
Do you see how we protect our family?
Do you see how we spend time with friends and family and do life with others?
Do you see how being a part of a community is important?
I know that you are not mine.
You are HIS and He has lent you to me, to us, expecting great things from your Daddy and I....
as we did not bring your into this world on a whim...but prayed and ached for you all.
Knowing the responsibility and seeing it before our eyes are two different things. Such a heavy load to bear.
So do it. Get dirty, be noisy.
Don't sit still, don't be quiet.
Be loud, make a mess, jump from high places, push the limits....be wild.
Be a boy.
My heart prays you turn out just like your Daddy.
The example he has set before you...follow it.
Do you know how blessed you are to have him as your example?
I breathe a little easier, knowing this.
My tender, over-protecting heart asks God,
"Why did you give me boys?"
These people that need to be let free...
These little ones who will soon let go of me, to cling to their Daddy more.
Oh, if I could only wrap you in my arms and protect you from it all.....
But then, you would not accomplish what He intends for you.
Those battles, those tests...they will make you stronger.
How to pray for that? To pray for hardship and trial so that you will see Him, and see what He has done for you.
That is a hard prayer....
We will not always do it the right way, we will fail you.
But He will not.
By: Krystle Bowen, 3 Little Men & a Mommy
:angel: :angel:
What I Wish I Could Write: For You Mama
May 12, 2012 01:10 am | Stephanie Bryant
{She said it better than I ever could. I knew I'd found a small treasure. It's absolutely perfect.
With the launch of Mother Letters – art that I love – and the celebration of Mother's Day, the longings for motherhood can be overwhelming to my waiting heart. And that gets me thinking about you. Those of you that dread tomorrow, miss your mama or your child, or have a reason to be in pain.
I know you be will encouraged by Adriel's words like I was, no matter what stage of motherhood — or if you're still waiting for that part of your journey to begin.}
Dear Mama,
You're hoping to be Queen for a Day.
You're hoping your labor of love and daily sacrifices and long hours and sleepless service and hard, hard work might be acknowledged in a way that will make your mama-heart go flutterflutterflutter, I. am. seen.
And I hope that for you too.
Your love runs deep. Your reach stretches far. Your presense breathes safe. Your work speaks holy... and so you deserve to be honored, oh Mama-Queen for a Day.
But this year, as you prepare for the day that's all about you...
Remember her who has no babies to embrace.
Remember her who has experienced loss in the womb or loss in her arms.
Remember her who reluctantly entrusted her heart-in-the-shape-of-a-child to someone else's care because, at the time, it was the highest form of love.
Remember her who is separated through deployment or assignment or illness or disease.
Remember her who aches in her soul while her baby is in prison.
Remember her who has waited and counted and worn her knees ragged praying for the day when those two stripes would appear.
Remember her who loves our babies because she's not yet found a man to give her some of her own.
Remember her who burns with regret for letting go when there seemed no other way.
Remember her who parents alone, with those sweet littles still too young to form the words "I love you" on their lips.
Remember her who waits in agony for applications to be approved and a judge's ruling telling her what she already knows. (That she, too, is a mother.)
Remember her who's broken-hearted from being pushed away by a wayward teenager.
Remember her who lacks access to the kind of medical care we take for granted and instead waits in fear of her birthing day.
Remember her—in a far off land—who pushed to her death, while delivering life into the arms of the world as she said hello-goodbye.
And you, dear Mama-friend...
Your surrender is noble and your service is seen in the heavenly places.
You—who are so like God himself in your creating and nurturing and laboring and the handing over of your very glory to another—will you remember how precious the privilege of doing what he does?
Will you remember that your children, your role, your name—Mama—is not something you're entitled, but something released to you as a gift?
Your gift—the one you give and the one you receive—is far sweeter than any that could be packaged up and wrapped with a bow this Mothers Day.
Happy Mothers Day to you, Mama.
May you be celebrated, esteemed, and affirmed in your joy. May you wake up that sweet Sunday morning to recviece your beloved hand-drawn cards.
And as you do, may you remember her, and whisper a prayer for her too – the one who is unable to share in your joy.
(And please, for the love of all that's good, may you also receive your breakfast in bed and a tidy house as you undoubtably deserve. And flowers, many flowers!)
Love,
Another Mama Trying to Remember
This post is part of the Mother Letters project. Read them, mama-friends, and find nourishment for your soul.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture: For the Mothers
May 13, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also.
For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.
For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.
2 Timothy 1:3-7
:angel:
Don't Despise the Small
May 14, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
What seems small in your world? That place where your vision is grand but your reality isn't. Your influence? Your opportunity? Your business? Your blog? Your ministry?
Look at that small place and tell me what you see.
Now, might I be so bold as to slip a little note into your world to tell you what I see?
I see the place from which humility is birthed. That glorious rare quality that doesn't take too much credit. That knows real success is laced with upward glances, bent knees and whispered praises to the only One. The One.
He who gives.
And He who withholds. Not out of spite, not out of ignorance, not out of deafness, and certainly not out of comparisons where others are found to be more deserving.
No. He withholds out of protection. With more urgent restraint than we'll ever possess, He presses back the big to protect the workings of the small.
The small we should not despise.
The quiet nurturing taking place, the unfolding, the stir beneath where none can see.
Soon, a fork in the soul's path must be chosen. One way to haughtiness. One way to humility.
If that soul has never tasted small, it will detest the humble pallet. And crave big, only big, until it is so full of big that being big inflates and distorts and eventually bursts. All things haughty will eventually be made microscopic.
But for the soul that has tasted small, humility becomes their richest fare. The taste that fits. The thing most desired to be be consumed. All things humble will eventually be made great.
Oh the beautiful gift of small.
The delight of knowing what small really is.
Small isn't a belittling of one's calling nor an indication of one's future.
It's a place. A grand unnoticed place. A place to be protected and remembered. A place that keeps all things big in good and right perspective.
Small isn't what keeps us from that grand vision.
Small is what keeps us for that grand vision.
By The Dance of Unspeakable Joy
May 14, 2012 01:10 am | Melody Day
In the spring of 1993, I was a senior in high school. I was preparing to graduate. But graduation was the farthest thing from my mind. As spring came into full bloom and May drew closer, there was one thing and one thing only that I was thinking about and that was Prom. And I, I was a Baptist pastor's daughter.
In case you don't know what that means, I'll tell you: most Baptists don't dance. I had a very tall hurdle in front of me. I wanted to go to the prom so badly that I begged, I pleaded, and I bargained with my dad. Finally he acquiesced. I could go to the prom, on one condition: I had to lay low... I was absolutely not to make a big deal of this. We didn't want the deacons finding out, right?
On the evening of the dance, I donned a beautiful bright pink taffeta dress, I hopped into my date's freshly washed shiny red Toyota and we were off to have fun and be as inconspicuous as possible. And oh, did we have fun!
I didn't realize until the following morning that I had been unsuccessful with the "inconspicuous" part of the plan. There on the very front page of my hometown's Sunday morning newspaper was a picture of me, arm in arm with my date, large as life in our fancy prom duds, our names in the caption box below.
So much for incognito...
Twenty years later, I can laugh about the story with my parents. Sort of. But, I still feel the details of the story like it was yesterday; my face flushes several shades of bright red and my pulse races to new heights.
Back then I was so nervous to see my dad's reaction! I wanted to hide the Sunday paper, but that was futile since I was sure that all of the deacons got the Sunday paper. There was one thing that had been impressed on me long before that day, but now it was stuck permanently to me like glue : dancing is wrong. Except, its not. At least, that's what I've learned since then.
Actually, it was only a few weeks ago that I realized just how right dancing can be.
My children and I were sitting at the breakfast table, getting ready to start our school day. The atmosphere was a bit heavy because of a few things going on in our family; a sick friend was in genuine need, an uncle of mine had passed away recently, and of course there were all of the other frustrations and plain old junk that happens. We were life-less while we sat munching our cereal, completely weighed down by it all.
Instead of beginning our day with the usual memory work that goes with our home school curriculum, I decided to put on our CD of Scripture songs by Seeds Family Worship. We started bee-bopping at the table, singing along. Songs from Matthew and Jeremiah and Isaiah, were ringing out with truths we needed to hear like, "Ask and it will be given to you," and "Call to me and I'll answer," and "Do not fear for I am with you."
We'd heard these tunes before, but they were new that morning. And then something indescribable happened. There was this unexpected, blissful freedom lifting us right out of our seats and propelling our bodies into movement. Singing along was just not enough. Before I knew it we were up dancing and giggling and jumping right out of our sorrows.
Now, I'm sure we looked funny. As you can imagine, I am not a dancer in a groovy, "Oooh! That girl's got moves," kind of way. But, we were moved by the exciting truths from God's Word – and when that happened, there was such a release of joy right in our living room!
Should I be surprised? In Ecclesiastes, it says there is a time for mourning, but also for dancing. Psalm 30 talks about how HE is able to turn our mourning into dancing. It makes so much sense to me as I think about it now: when I begin to meditate on the power of His promises, the burdens are lifted and my feet really do become light.
I'm so thankful for a Heavenly Father who inspires new dance moves at a moment's notice, just when I need to "get moving" with a new attitude! The life He gives really does turn sadness into a dance of unspeakable joy!
By: Melody Day, Daily Portion
Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:
Is Radical Change Possible?
May 15, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
For the past few months I've intended to write a post with this title here at (in)courage, but other ideas kept pushing it aside. I'd planned to share testimonials from friends and family who've experienced real, long-term change in their lives, change that impressed and encouraged me. As it turns out, apparently I wasn't supposed to write until I'd also experienced radical change firsthand.
Major changes can be difficult to make and to maintain, just ask anyone who's tried to lose weight, stop smoking, or quit a bad habit. We've all heard the stories; however, there are successes, too, and that's what I'm interested in examining.
What does it take to make a radical change stick?
Believe in the Need for Change
I visited my doctor in early January for my regular check up and we discussed problems I was having, mostly from being out of shape. She recommend that I start walking or some other form of exercise, which lead me to attempt the 30 Day Shred workout (read my story here).
I took my doctor's warnings seriously, therefore I believed in the need for change and started exercising the next day.
Commit to Making the Change
My friend, Kathryn, decided that she wanted to change from being a night owl to a morning person and made the change in one day! She went to bed early one night, got up earlier the next morning, and never looked back. She feels better now and has maintained her new schedule for two years. I'm a night owl who sees the benefits in changing, but have I really tried? No.
You probably won't experience change if you don't make a commitment.
See a Benefit from the Change
When I first started my new exercise program, my husband asked if I wanted to take a before picture and I said no: first, I was embarrassed by the condition I was in, and second, I couldn't imagine that my results would be very dramatic.
Boy, was I wrong.
I've currently completed 38 days of the 30 Day Shred; I also walk and jog a bit now that the weather is nice. Day 31 meant the most because I completed the challenge and then I kept on going.
I haven't dieted or lost much weight, but this is the best physical condition I've been in in years. Honestly, I'd take this over a 10 pound weight loss. I feel younger, healthier, and maybe a little sassier; the problems I experienced before are almost nonexistent.
The physical and mental benefits of exercising far outweigh the time and effort it requires. I'm managing to jog a hill that usually overwhelmed me to walk. This rediscovered strength and resolve seems to make me braver in other areas of my life.
I see benefits from the change and I'll fight to keep them.
What about you? Have you or someone you know attempted radical change in your life? Did it stick?
:angel:
, Gardenias and Goodness
May 16, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance
Have you given much thought to the strength of sense-memory? How a particular smell can immediately bring to mind people, places or events in your life?
Though I demanded very little in the planning of my wedding, I just had to have gardenias in my bridal bouquet. Out of season and costly, my florist allowed three.
You can almost see little hearts in my eyes. This year we'll celebrate silver!
To the sentimentalist in me, that delicately scrumptious flower paid homage to my childhood and celebrated my Southern roots.
But mostly it honored my grandmother.
Dambarr we called her, one of those made-up names invented by the first-born grandchild, the best attempt my cousin Ellie's tiny lips could manufacture when she was learning to name people, places and things. It stuck for all the grandbabies who came after.
I liked that name for my grandmother–everyone else had a Granny or Grandma or Memaw,
but Dambarr was wonderfully one of a kind. Paradoxically like every other grandmother.
Her death the year after my mother's was painful loss. By the end of my fourth grade summer the two most important women in my life were gone, making precious every memory of them.
Sometime between third and fourth grade, I think my olfactory sense must have matured. I have strong sense-memories associated with Dambarr but none from my mom~
Jean Naté after-bath splash
Jergens Lotion
Face powder in a compact
A ham dotted in cloves
Toasted poundcake
And Jungle Gardenia perfume
When I catch a whiff of any of those scents, my first thought is Dambarr!
Dambarr was a master gardener, and it was among primrose and pansies that she cultivated my love for fresh flowers. I didn't inherit her green thumbs but rather her love for the end result–blindfolded, I could identify most flowers by their scent, something caught more than taught and I know due to the time we spent in her garden.
Lilies of the Valley were my second favorite; sweet and delicious, their diminutive size plus my imagination had me convinced they were actually fairy parasols.
But my absolute favorites were her gardenias, delicate and aromatic...they smelled like...well...Dambarr.
Gardenia's scent is unmistakeable; if a bush is nearby, it's not unlikely you'll smell them before you see them.
Smells are invisible, attention-getters, indicators.
Smoke in the distance, gas in your kitchen, a child's dirty diaper, flowers in the garden.
Often smells demand a call to action or serve as a harbinger of something else. Whether offensive stench or aromatic perfume, an odor is not unto itself; it emanates from another source.
And so it is with our lives in Christ ~
But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things? For we are not, like so many, peddlers of God's word, but as men of sincerity, as commissioned by God, in the sight of God we speak in Christ. (2 Corinthians 2:14-17, ESV)
Don't you love how God purposes all our senses for his glory?
In light of the sense of smell and its evocative nature, isn't this passage thrilling?
Because Jesus lives in us, He lives through us; and though invisible, His aroma is detectable by others. People process and perceive it differently based on where they are in the faith.
It has nothing to do with us and everything to do with Christ because Jesus' fragrance remains consistent.
So. We smell like Jesus.
Is this blowing anyone else's mind or am I the only one?!
When you recall strong sense-memories, those scents that have strong association with your past, does it help you better understand what God is saying through this passage?
I wanna hear your stories. Do you have strong scent-memories that help you make sense of this passage? If you're willing to share one in comments, we can all "stink" to high heaven together. Or if you have a story about a special someone (like gardenias and my grandmother), let's celebrate that together, too.
: : : : : : : :
by Robin Dance who smells like Sun Ripened Raspberry from Bath & Body (except for when she smells like Head and Shoulders?!). She declares PENSIEVE subscribers bless her socks right off her feet and new Twitter friends are always welcome.
:angel:
When There Are No Answers
May 16, 2012 01:10 am | Angela
Psalm 139:13
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
On May 14, 2010 my baby, Charlotte, died shortly after birth. A few hours after she died my husband and I left the hospital with empty arms and broken hearts.
I let friends and family know Charlotte was gone via social networks, it was too difficult to call and tell them our baby died unexpectedly.
I wrote that she was with Jesus, safe in the beauty of heaven for reasons unknown, but hopefully in time we would know why she couldn't stay with us.
As the days without her became weeks and then months the medical files and reports rolled in.
A steady tide of questions with no answers buried beneath the waves. On the death certificate, on the autopsy report and on the insurance reports the most devastating moment of our lives was reduced to one line: neonatal death, cause unknown.
I wanted to know why she died, what I did wrong, where I messed up.
My faith in God went from true, steadfast, and trusting to confused, wary, and hurt.
I continued attending church off and on, my attendance far from regular.
I didn't turn away from God, but I set him aside, stepped around our relationship gingerly, uncertain of the Father who promised to love me, set my path, and keep me safe. (Jeremiah 29:11).
On September 9, 2011 my son, Bennett, was born healthy and safe after a long, stressful pregnancy. Carrying a second child changed my faith perspective. I slowly began shifting closer to God with small shuffling footsteps.
Prayer sustained me and gave me hope at the end of my pregnancy. On the mornings I was too scared to get out of bed I prayed for strength to make it through one more day.
And when I went into labor I prayed for courage, peace, hope and joy. I wanted to be excited to meet my baby. I didn't want to dread his birth day. I thought the fear would lead me to beg for a c-section, but the Lord gave me strength to birth naturally like I wanted to.
Since Bennett's birth my faith has increased tenfold. I realized I don't have to understand why Charlotte died.
God has a plan, He is in control, and it's okay for me to relinquish my need to know why she died. I can accept the uncertainties and unknowns, and the fact that we have not been provided with concrete reasons, with the understanding that God's plan will be revealed someday.
I need to trust and respect the answer I've been given, even though it's not the one I would like.
I can speculate all I like. Maybe God wanted me to long for heaven. If so, that has certainly been accomplished! I can't wait to be reunited with my Charlotte. Maybe He wanted me to rely solely on Him.
Maybe I needed to be broken so I would seek Him.
Whatever the reason, the answer is in heaven. I don't have to search for it on Earth anymore.
I can be content in the knowledge that Charlotte is safe with Jesus and I will hold her again.
By, Angela Rodman, Little Bird
:angel: :angel:
Listening
May 17, 2012 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard
The other day I was driving to my workshop and chatting with a close friend. We speak often, so while I soaked up a few moments of her time, I also mentally made a to-do list and took in the morning sunshine. In the busyness of my morning I gave her only part of my attention. Much to my surprise, in the middle of our conversation, I heard a word from the Lord.
It was too quite to hear with my ears, but much too loud to ignore. "Stop what you're doing" He said, "Listen to what she's saying. Dig deeper. Nothing is more important than this moment."
So I pulled the car over. I asked question upon question trying to uncover more of what she was feeling and experiencing. As the truth unfolded we cried together. We prayed together. When we hung up the phone I sat in stunned silence for a good five minutes. In the midst of our casual conversation, God decided He had some work to do.
I wish I could tell you the whole story of how God opened up her heart and what she shared—but that's not my story to tell. My story is just a small part of the bigger story. It's a simple story of hearing God speak to me and taking a moment to listen. But it was so heart-changing that I can hardly stop thinking about it.
In that moment it didn't seem strange to hear God's voice. It was a gentle nudging paired with an unmistakable direction. "Stop, listen and dig deeper." To be honest, I can't remember ever hearing God speak to me so clearly. But maybe I'm just not listening?
I want to listen better. I want to be willing to hear. I want God to use me, in all my busyness and imperfection. James 4:8 says, "Come near to God and he will come near to you."
Pray with me? Lord please, open up my ears to hear from you. Draw me nearer to you. Amen.
By: Lisa
:angel:
Tugging Feeling
May 18, 2012 01:10 am | Shelbey
Have you ever had that feeling where you know God wants you to do something more for Him but you are not sure what it is?
That's where I am.
God has been tugging on my heart to not only do more for Him, but be more for Him. I've been questioning Him, wondering specifically what He wants me to do. Here's the problem...I need to be patient and listen more intently to God to understand His desires of me. I am naturally a very impatient person, so this is an extremely difficult position that I am in. I want to know right now.
I am sure that God is smiling down upon me shaking His head knowing that His child is struggling with this patience business. He knows that I am impatient. He knows my weaknesses and my strengths. He knows where I have been and He knows where I am going. He has plans for me.
Plans? For me? That is simply amazing.
For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)
God wants the very best for each of us. He wants us to have joy and happiness. He wants us to succeed through Him. He does not want us to hurt, but instead wants us to grow in the Light. He is a loving Father who has created a special future for each of His children.
Be patient. Listen to Him. Focus your life on praising Him. He will provide. He will lead. He will give us the answers we need in His perfect timing.
I will continue to listen knowing that God has the perfect future for me planned out. His plans for us are more amazing than what we could create for ourselves. That is worth being patient for.
By: Shelbey Kendall, This Smiling Heart
:angel:
Between the "What If's and "If Only"
May 18, 2012 01:01 am | Jennifer Schmidt
Thirty minutes, forty-five, sixty, the minutes merge together as emotions whirl.
The same woods that serve as a place of refuge and tranquility for me, now stirs desperation. This place of silence, which should be a balm to my soul, screams, and yet I hear nothing. Nothing except my own shouts bouncing off the trees echoing back, mocking me.
In the midst of this panic, I knew some of the prayer warriors I would want petitioning on my behalf, and I quickly scribbled to my (in)courage friends who were on-line,
10: 50 am "PLEASE PRAY – my 6 year old down syndrome nephew has been lost in our woods for an hour. Calling fire department. I am walking the woods (miles and miles), checking creeks. DESPERATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Have you felt that desperation before? Those "What If" moments that only take an instant?
What if he gets bit by a copperhead. What if he stumbles in the creek. What if....
We've had varying degrees of "What If's" with sweet Edison. You see, this is no ordinary child. As a Ecuadorian newborn, this precious blessing was wrapped in a plastic bag, and stuffed in a dumpster to die. Miraculously rescued, the Lord has already used this little life in untold ways.
I continued to update my prayer warriors with these words. (Messages copied verbatim – typing errors from shaking fingers and all.)
11:24 am "WE still can't find him and 30 people are looking. One of the dogs is with him. which is good. Pray that the creek beds are ;miraculously covered by a shield from teh lord. he nveer wanders
12: 23 pm Still nothing. Canine units have been out for 30 minutes now. After that, will put out an amber alert. He is such an angel. Such a blessing in our every day lives, but we know God has His hand right where he is at. PRaying he is just playing mud patties somewhere and can't get home. I am HEARTSICK. It's been over 2 1/2 hours. He has only wandered one other time. and normally, never leaves the back yard woods.
Hours passed. The fallen trees where the boys built their forts and consider them fortresses, now seem as dungeons.
The peaceful creeks, where years of blessed memories were created, captivated our largest concerns.
Those "What If's" wouldn't leave us alone. We'd combat them with scripture, but they'd keep bombarding us. As the Amber Alert was issued, and we arrived at the four hour mile marker, you can imagine the brutal emotions swirling. My sister cried out to me, "Did we fight so hard to bring him home, only to have just two years with him? Would the Lord allow this?"
I could only reply, "I don't know."
In the midst of our sorrow, we claimed His promises. Yet, we knew that His promises might not be our desire. As we personally battled "What If's," stark reminders of another family's "If Only's" came calling. They came to show support, but memories of their "If only we hadn't built a pool, she'd still be with us," echoed in our hearts.
At that moment, somewhere between the "What If's and the "If Only's, God's Word transcended the situation and reminded me, "He is the same yesterday, today and forever."
His Word is TRUTH! I believe that with every breath I breathe, and regardless of the outcome, I will choose to praise You, Lord.
What happened next is one of those pin point moments in life that one never forgets.
I am going to copy and paste bits from what I personally shared with the (in)courage girls, after they found out through facebook.
"Now that emotions have settled, although tears are still so close to the surface, thank you all for yesterday and standing in the gap in the midst of a nightmare. As we combed the wilderness, literally, there was a peace in the midst of terror, knowing that you all were praying.
Over 100 people ended up coming out, many strangers who were volunteer rescue workers. Once they sent out the Amber alert, we were told to have our friends on stand by, for a mass rescue effort, so many friends did not come because it would have caused more commotion in the midst of the k9 search. We live in the middle of no where and our property backs up to miles and miles of woods.
As my sister in love, a strong and vibrant woman of God, lay sobbing on her bed, I crawled in with her. Since I really had no more words of comfort, I opened the scriptures, the only true source of hope.
It was one of those moments, when I had NO CLUE where to open. I couldn't even think. You always hear that people open the bible and He brings the right verse for their future. Well, I have tried that before and it normally opens to something like, "They ate figs or whatever" and I think...hmm, am I supposed to go on a diet?
Well, this was one of those divinely appointed moments where the Lord was SPEAKING directly into us as I opened straight to Psalms 77. Please read it, and understand this was divine. In the midst of our reading, wailing began to subside. My sister in love's shouts of anguish turned to murmurs of praise. Her shaking body completely stilled. It was SO Powerful. I felt like I was kneeling at His throne, and right then, the rescue worked screamed, "They found him." Ok, off to have another cry. Those emotions and feelings are still so close to the surface, but I just wanted to thank you all SO MUCH!!"
It's been a week and a half since our life was nearly changed in an instant. If you are curious as to how it really ended up, there's much more to the story over at my place (including some emotional pictures.) I still can't quite comprehend His sovereignty of gifting us with more Eddie time. I speak on behalf of my entire family that we don't feel worthy of such a gift,and that's why it's all grace.
We can't begin to understand why this story stayed at the "What If" stage, and never wrapped our reality around the "If only" ending, but I do know that He is right at the center of the two.
I know many of you are somewhere between the fear of "What If" and the sorrow of "If Only."
It might not be a tragedy in your life, but possibly the anguish of finances, sickness, child rearing, work, the list continues. If you are still in the middle of this, I would be honored to pray for you.
If you have your own story to share of the Lord's mighty power in the midst of your "What If," and you'd like to give praise and testimony, I'd be honored to rejoice with you.
The comments are open for both.
Story shared by Jen, from Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, overjoyed aunt.
:angel: :angel:
The Purpose of Loneliness
May 19, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines
from weheartit.com
Music off, television off, phone left on silent, I've been dabbling with the quiet because I need to hear from God, but the truth about the quiet is that it has opened me up wide, turned on my dulled senses, and faced me toward my rawest, loneliest places. It is a constant struggle for me to not reach for my phone, always at my side. With my mouth I say I want to walk with God, but with my actions I crave a culturally acceptable numbness that keeps me from pain.
Many of us know truth with our words and our songs and in our friendship conversations, but it feels rare to experience it in the seething corners of our hearts or in those hurt, magnified memories we keep close and shoved down. We start to feel the quiet working on us, and so we reach for the phone, scroll through instagram.
I'm finding, even as I pursue the presence of God, that the quieter it gets, the lonelier I get and the more I am left to deal with my own thoughts and what I really believe about God. I'm beginning to see how I've discounted that I have the mind of Christ, that I am actually supposed to be able to hear myself think.
I've started asking how lonely was Jesus in His flesh. Who knows what it's like to be God with breakable bones? And then I imagine the desperate, internal communion Jesus kept with His Father, the kind of communion I want with Him, too.
Because of Jesus, I'm starting to embrace the lonely, not hiding from it any more, and rather asking Jesus into it with me. Only then do I find myself truly not alone.
Even in the intimacy metaphor we receive with marriage, even in our most unified moments, we can feel most alone. Even with your most favorite sisters, in huge crowds, and with a boat load of kids, we find ourselves deep in the crevices of loneliness. We find ourselves feeling exposed and unfixed because there is no people fix, no earthly father, no covering that will do other than the covering Jesus gives, the messianic fix.
I believe we blow the horn asking all to gather in community often because we think it will save us – save us from ourselves. Community can point us in the right direction, but it still won't fix us.
We in our lonely can realize a love that hounds, the presence of invisible God, and only from the solitude found there can we reach out to community and practice the healing of togetherness in Him.
What if we allowed the quiet, faced the lonely, and sat in it a bit? Might that lonely place be exactly where the door is, the one on which we knock, the one Jesus promises to open?
***
inspired by the reading of Reaching Out by Henri Nouwen and written by Amber Haines from theRunaMuck
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
May 20, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.
~Psalm 1:1-3
:angel: :angel:
The Power of a Phone Call
May 21, 2012 01:20 am | Jessica Turner
Source
Why is it that we are so "busy" that we can't even take time to call those that we love?
This is a topic that has really been on my heart lately.
You see, I call friends and family every single day. It is a priority to stay connected, even though my plate is very full.
Oftentimes I'll take the 10 minutes I have in the car as I go to and from day care to call a friend just see how she's doing.
Sometimes it's a friend that I have talked to only a few days prior, other times its a friend that I haven't talked to in a couple weeks. Regardless, every time it is so good to connect.
But you see, the thing is... almost every time I'm always the one to pick up the phone.
Now, please hear me. I'm not writing this post for a pity party for my friends to give me a call. :)
Rather, I am writing this as a call to action.
As women we need one another. We need to invest in one another. We need to love one another by intentionally reaching out.
We need to pick up the phone - even if it is just five minutes in the car to say hey I'm here, how are you doing?
About two months ago, I called a friend whom I hadn't talked to in a while. After 10 minutes of talking about our kids, she took a deep breath and told me that she didn't think she was in love her husband anymore. I was the only person she had told, besides him.
Had I not called her, she would still be holding those feelings in, with no one to come along side of her and say, I am praying for you. We will walk this road together.
Your friends need you. And you need them.
Today I want to encourage you to pick up the phone and call someone. Let them know that you're there, that you think about them and that they matter.
By Jessica Turner from The Mom Creative
:angel:
Less, More, Enough
May 21, 2012 01:10 am | Valerie Sisco
I recently had a friend ask me, "Why AREN'T you married?"
The question surprised me. And not just because it seemed a little impolite to ask that question of a single gal in her forties. When I didn't answer for a minute, he asked,
"Have you just been focusing on your career?"
It got me thinking.
Maybe I had wasted my best dating years of my twenties and thirties. Maybe I didn't pray hard enough. Maybe I should have been more diligent about going to singles' events at church. Maybe I should have made more of an effort to meet people. Maybe I'm single because I didn't try hard enough. Or worst of all, maybe I overlooked someone. Was it possible that I happened to miss the one God meant for me in one of those dates over the past two decades?
I have always thought – and still do – that I am right where God has planned for me to be at this point in my life. In the right place. At the right time. With the right family and friends God has already placed in my life. God's timing is perfect.
Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and he will establish your plans. Prov. 16:3
Instead of feeling like I was less because I was single, I asked God if he had more for me. More to do? More to be? I felt him whisper that he might have more for me in the future, but for now this is enough.
This life. This family. This job. This church. This volunteer work. These friends.
This family is a sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew, who I am so blessed to live near, to be a part of their daily lives. This job is in healthcare communications, a field I have been interested in since my college internship at a hospital. This church, where I worship and volunteer as a kindergarten teacher, is passionate about building relationships and drawing people closer to God. These friends, who grace my life, support and encourage.
God tells me I am chosen to live this life. I am chosen to be an aunt, a sister, a daughter, a friend. And I am chosen to be God's holy daughter. I'm not less, I'm chosen.
But you are a chosen people (woman), a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
1 Peter 2:8-10
This life? More than enough for me.
By Valerie Sisco, Grace with Silk
:angel: :angel:
I Cant Pick A Movie.
May 22, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I think it started right before Christmas when a group of girls and I went to see a sappy chick flick. Im usually first in line for love stories, but as I was living the demise of one in real life that hardly even got started, I wasnt feeling it. I went anyways, hoping that a fun film would snap me out of my heart funk.
I double wasnt feeling it when, while waiting in line for popcorn, I spied the man in the never really started relationship come into the theater. Just. My. Luck. Hes headed to a different movie, he told me, with a different group of friends. Cool, I said, and carried away my two tubs of popcorn [I was the delivery gal for our group] with my shoulders back and my head held high, feigning confidence every step of the way.
Inwardly crumbling.
I was jaded from that moment on. The movie failed to please and knowing he was in the theater next door, probably unscathed by our interaction, didnt help things. When the we cant do this anymore break-up moment happened forty-five minutes into the film, and I knew we had another hour, and things were certainly going to work out, I rolled my eyes. For the next sixty minutes.
Because in real life? It doesnt always work out. And Im tired of watching movies where it always does.
So while I have spent the majority of my life sitting front row in a rom com theater, grinning from ear to ear, now I huff when friends suggest it and beg for a comedy or a tragedy- just something that feels more honest. I dont find any romantic movie enjoyable right now. In fact, even writing about this, my lip is quasi-snarled and my eyes are in pre-roll mode.
[I'm sure my behavior is terribly attractive.]
Ive never been like this before. Its not a feeling of hopelessness. Its not a lack of trust in God. Its just a pure frustration. And I cant find a movie I want to watch for the life of me.
[You're welcome.]
Im at that place in my singleness where it all feels impossible- not hopeless, not doubtful, just not logical. Where is this man going to come from? Is it going to be worth the sacrifices Im making now? What am I doing wrong? What am I doing right? How in the world is this going to work out?
In a movie, this is right when the plot twists and a knight comes riding in. In real life, this is right when I do another load of laundry and pay the bills and I keep living
but nothing changes.
I made a promise that when I started writing about singleness for (in)courage that I would write honestly. So even today, where this entire post feels immature and a bit embarrassing and fairly lame, Im gonna go with it.
I often tell the small group girls that I lead of the importance of feeling the emotions you are having- dont ignore them, dont blow them out of proportion, but feel them. Im trying not to wallow in this frustration, but feel it. Name it. And then recognize and remember that it is just a season in the cyclical nature of all things, including singleness.
So if you feel that today, I get it- and there is hope for frustrated ones like you and me.
This wont last forever.
God hasnt forgotten you, or me.
Isaiah 41:17
The poor and needy search for water,
but there is none;
their tongues are parched with thirst.
But I the LORD will answer them;
I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them.
Amen.
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel:
When Your Art Makes You Uncomfortable (and what it's really like to write for (in)courage)
May 23, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
Writing for (in)courage is some of the most difficult writing I do. Y'all, it's hard. The posts I write in this space take me a really long time. I weigh, I consider, I re-consider, I procrastinate. For a few months, I've been trying to figure out why.
It's kind of like when someone comes to my house and likes the way I decorate and then says, Hey, can you come over to my house and help me with my living room?
And I'm all, Sure, I can go to your house, but all I can do is this, what you see right here.
And they're all, Great! That's what I want!
But then I get to their house and it smells different and they have really cute pillows and fantastic taste and candles burning on the coffee table. And I really like and respect this girl and I want her to like me. She says she wants my help, but I look around and think, Why? This place looks great! There is nothing I can possible add to it.
Sometimes writing for (in)courage feels like that, like standing in the living room of a really great friend who wants advice on paint colors. But her walls are already painted awesome. So I stand there, empty handed and awkward with no advice to offer.
I'm not saying these things so you'll be all, You have so much to offer! Really, that's not my point. It's just that after two years, I thought it was time to be honest about the struggle. I write at my own space with freedom and sometimes even risk. But then I pop over here and all of a sudden, I'm so self-aware. Like there's broccoli in my teeth.
I don't smile if I think there's broccoli in my teeth. Broccoli-teeth lead to self-conscious people. Maybe that's why it's hard to write at (in)courage. Because it's one thing to be honest and dysfunctional at your own place. But it's another thing to go out, to be trusted with another audience, and still be free enough and vulnerable enough and brave enough to open up in the midst of them.
Maybe you're not a writer, but there is something else you do that you love. Maybe you are being asked to take that thing you do and share it outside your zone of comfort. I think the Lord is delighted when we delight ourselves in Him. And part of that is doing what is delightful to us.
Freely. Openly. And maybe even in public.
I'm not saying we are to the bone delightful people. On our own and by ourselves, we're quite dreadful, actually.
But we aren't on our own. And we aren't by ourselves. In Christ, we now have hope, life, freedom, fullness.
Are you being asked to share that thing you do in a way that is uncomfortable to you? What does that look like for your personally? There is no wrong. Let's hear it.
by emily freeman, Chatting at the Sky
On The Palm Of His Hand
May 23, 2012 01:10 am | Shanda Oakley
Lugging brushed and tins of paint, we climbed two flights of stairs to the children's ward of the public hospital in San Pedro Sula, Honduras. The walls and windows were bare and dirty, offering no source of entertainment or distraction. The children stayed six to ten in a room and there was one bathroom and a shower to share for the whole floor. Each room had a small sink with cold water and each patient was responsible for their own soap and towel.
We hoped to brighten up the place by painting cartoon figures, animals, and Bible characters: anything to break the monotony for the children.
Down one hall was a room with glass windows and there were twelve cribs inside. Lying on the cold vinyl covered bed closest to the window was a baby, bound in white cloth, and wrapped with masking tape. On the masking tape was written in black magic marker, "682".
I asked of an onlooker, "What happened?"
"He died this morning (seven hours ago). The morgue has not come to pick him up," he replied.
"Where is the mother?" I asked, my first thought being to comfort her and pray with her.
"There is no mother. The baby was abandoned."
This was a phrase I had heard all too often and my heart broke for little 682. He had no name. He had died alone, and lay wrapped in cloth, waiting for the time to be taken away. No one mourned him. No one cared. He would have no burial.
And then I saw a hand. And on the palm of the hand was written, "682."
And it was the hand of God.
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast, and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Through she may forget you, I will never forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands." Isaiah 49:15-16
His earthy mother may have abandoned him, but his Heavenly Father took him home.
Five years later, I look at the women in my bible study and wonder how many of them also feel abandoned by their mothers and their sisters. I think of the one who people avoid because she is boring. Then there is the lady who talks too much and a greeting turns into a thirty-minute monologue. There are those whose problems seem too many and great and we have a tendency to avoid them because we feel inadequate and sometimes just do not have time.
When we ignore these sisters, are we not as the mother who abandoned Baby 682? For, they their names also are written on the palm of His hand.
Today my heart cried for these women as my heart cried five years ago. I made a point to go to each of these daughters of God and gave them a hug and ask them how they were doing.
By Shanda Oakley at A Pause On The Path
When You Need To Feel The Pain
May 24, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Sometimes, the pain we have worked so hard to avoid is the one thing that leads us to where God calls us to go. Sometimes, feeling our need is the greatest work of faith we can surrender to.
I woke up like any other day.
But, when I got up from my bed, a sharp pain shot through my ankle. My leg jerked and my step crumpled. I couldn't walk.
What was going on?
I hadn't done anything strenuous. Hadn't hurt it.
Or did I?
I Didn't Feel
Two months ago, it was a rainy spring Saturday morning. I wanted to give Hubby the morning off for some alone time, so I took the boys to get their energy out — by going to Sky High — an indoor trampoline gym.
The entire warehouse was practically wall to wall trampoline. I was stoked. I jumped higher and higher, laughing as hair and body shot weightlessly up through the air.
Until I landed on my right ankle. And laid writhing in pain.
That night, my ankle swelled up. But, I didn't think much of it.
It's not the first time I've sprained my ankle. The doctors have always said the same thing.
Take ibuprofen. Put your feet up. Ice it.
Stay off of it — take it easy.
So, that's what I did.
I knew it was injured pretty badly, since it was swollen on both sides of my ankle. Especially when it turned black and blue in the days after. But, life was already busy and stressful enough, running the daily treadmill of life, taking care of my three year old toddler and six year old kindergartner.
So, I didn't think I needed to go to the doctors.
I didn't feel I had any need.
Deep Inside
My inability to feel my need landed me at the doctor's office last week, pain pulsing through my ankle.
As I sat there with my feet bare, waiting for the diagnosis, a bewildered podiatrist sitting on his spinning chair asked me, "Why didn't you come in sooner?".
"Huh?"
"Bonnie, you have a broken bone."
"What?"
"Yep. You did a good job breaking your foot, " Dr. Podiatrist sighed as he pointed out the break on the film of my x-ray.
The doctor said I would need to have an MRI. We have to investigate what is going on inside. You see, all the signs of trauma my foot experienced has already left. There is no black or blue to show blood draining. No redness or intense swelling left to observe the extent of the injury.
From all appearances on the outside, my foot was fine.
But, it wasn't. Something was broken. Deep inside, there was pain.
My Need
I drove home, feeling ashamed for not going to the doctor earlier, beating myself up for allowing my foot to get worse. As I added insult to self-injury mixing in a good dose of regret on shoulda-woulda-coulda, I had an epiphany.
Bonnie, you have such a high tolerance for pain.
You didn't even know you had a need.
A real need.
A bone actually broke and here I was – so high functioning — so good at taking care of everything and everyone, I lost sensitivity to my pain... and my need.
As I drove into the garage and parked my car, something in me just unraveled. My heart seemed to throb under a heavy weight and a flood of tears pushed up through my throat. And I began to sob.
What else is broken?
What pain have I masked so well that I no longer have any feelings left to contend with?
It Dawned On Me
I realized some deep seated fears and anxieties I've been battling to calm for many months cannot simply go away if I pray hard enough, study my Bible more thoroughly or double up my commitment to trust God harder.
It dawned on me — deep in my soul — God was gently speaking straight into me –
Bonnie, you are in a lot of pain.
Something is broken.
No one can see it, but I know it hurts. I know it is there.
Don't be afraid to trust me —
– by feeling the pain.
– by feeling need.
It's easy for me to pray and ask God to help me trust Him, when all I want is the pain or the problem to go away.
But, it feels completely foreign and disorienting to ask God to help me trust Him – so that I can feel needy. So I can feel the pain.
This incident with my foot injury gave God, my soul's physician, to speak into some hiding places within me loud and clear.
Of course, I want to get an MRI and get to the bottom of this pain in my foot. I cringe at the thought of having to go the doctors for nth number of visits to try to figure this thing out.
But, one thing I do know. I'm not going to ignore it. I want my foot to heal.
The Mystery of Faith
So, it is also with another heart sickening problem I am having to confront. I am now praying and asking God to walk with me through places I haven't been before: the journey to feel pain — so that I can find comfort and healing on the way.
This isn't a journey that I want to go on.
I'm trying to resist it, by trying to solve the problem and be as high functioning as I can.
I can do capable.
I can do faith.
But God is now calling me to experience the mystery of faith. And He's calling me to it by inviting me to feel pain.
Maybe you are also going through a season where you suddenly find your highly productive, competent-self encountering a wall of weaknesses and confusion.
You may be like me — looking just fine on the outside. The hurt of the past appears to have subsided. You're not black and blue. Nothing is swollen or funny looking. But, inside you've been working hard to move away from disappointment, loss or loneliness. From pain. And from need.
What worked in the past to make you feel better has worked. You've survived.
But, it's not working anymore. Not this time. For whatever reason, the difficulty you're facing right now is eroding the peace you had once experienced from God.
But wait.
God is offering us hope. He says –
Your faith is still there. I just want you to use it differently.
You haven't failed. I want you to know that with me — you can.
I haven't abandoned you...
I am only holding onto you tighter because I know it's time for you to heal.
It's time for you to need.
It's time for you to feel the pain.
It is that time for me, friends.
Together, our journey to investigate the pain starts with trusting God is good. He is the soul physician. He is extremely competent and kind. He has seen everything under the sun and nothing can shock Him or cause Him to abandon us in this process. Even if we feel like He would, He won't.
Let's hold each other up in prayer today.
Let's share what we can.
And for all that is unspoken,the Holy Spirit will fill in the rest.
"Now that we know what we have – Jesus, this great High Priest
with ready access to God...
We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality.
He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all –
So let's walk right up to him
and get what he is so ready to give.
Take the mercy, accept the help."
Hebrews 4:14-16
~~~~~
Where are you with God on the journey to feel your need with Him?
Share a bit of your story? Click here to comment. I'm grateful for your voice here.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie at her blog as she journeys ahead with faith friends along the way.
:angel:
My Delivery Guy's Prayer
May 24, 2012 01:10 am | Deidra
Someone should give my delivery guy some type of award. I am quite sure when that guy sees my address on his route and a box from DaySpring in the back of his truck, he must send up a few heartfelt prayers to God. He probably says something like this:
"God. It seems that today I have to deliver a package from DaySpring to the Riggs woman. You know how she gets, God. You know how she squeals and jumps up and down and how sometimes she even runs out to the truck, jumping up and down. God, all of that is downright embarrassing. You know how much she likes to go on and on about how wonderful those DaySpring products are, and You know how all of that talking messes up my schedule. So God, if it's not too much to ask, when I drop off this box and ring her doorbell, would you please PLEASE let her be out running errands or something?"
Poor thing.
If you've ever been the fortunate recipient of a box from DaySpring, your delivery person may be saying the same prayer. And because DaySpring likes the idea of keeping the country's amazing delivery people praying, they'd like to give five readers of (in)courage the chance to win a Good Things teacup and tote set. Yes! Seriously!
To be entered for your chance to win, just leave a comment below, telling us about the best thing you ever received from DaySpring. If you've never ordered from DaySpring before, tell us what you'd order if you could. We'll announce the winner on May 31st! Oh, and feel free to pass along this prayer to your delivery person.
:angel:
Elusive
May 25, 2012 01:20 am | Angie
It took me a long time to realize the toll it was taking on me.
Because the truth is, I love to hear people's stories. I have a Master's degree in psychology to prove it.
But I also have a history of seeing life through fear-tainted glasses.
It pains me to admit the way it still affects me, because it would seem that a girl who loved Jesus the way I do would just be able to get on the plane without checking the weather reports repeatedly. She wouldn't sit, back against the terminal wall, while her friend (thank you, Heather) strokes her hair and tells her if we need to stay, we'll stay.
I had tears running down my cheeks and I told her I had to get over it.
She spoke softly, and the words fell gently but with much weight.
"And this is part of your life now..."
Yes. The irony of the plane and the girl who doesn't want to speak is laughable. I did laugh, I think.
But then I looked back at the weather patterns.
It's part of my life.
All the babies that didn't wake up from naps and the ultrasounds that bring tears and all of the mommies and daddies who cry...
I need to feel community with these sweet sojourners, but I have realized that sometimes I need to take a step back. With the best of intentions, I had backed myself into a corner where it felt like babies never woke up from naps, and doctors only had news that destroyed lives.
It was making me lose hope.
It might be a different scenario for you-maybe divorce or abuse, or any number of things, but I'm willing to bet you have felt it too.
That voice in the back of your head that whispers, "Why did you ever think your God was good to begin with? And trust Him? You must be out of your mind..."
You may have named that voice, as he most certainly has one.
But you also have a voice.
And you don't have to watch the weather patterns to know the One who controls them.
You just have to believe He does.
I have realized that for me, sometimes enough is enough. It doesn't make me a bad person to say, "I don't think I can read any more emails like this for a little while."
But it's not just the emails. I think sometimes in our humanity we are drawn to that which confirms the worst about life. Buildings explode. People are sold, abused, and killed. Planes fall out of the sky.
I'm not trying to paint a morbid picture here (and to those of you in the fetal position vowing you will never click on an (in)courage post again, take heart...), but I think sometimes we need to call it like it is.
Life is hard. Hope is elusive.
But God wins.
His good, never-failing, constant, abiding, true, deep love...it wins.
And by actively choosing to recognize that, even if it doesn't completely swallow my fear the way I wish it did, helps me evaluate my days through a different lens.
God wins.
When I'm lost in my thoughts and I can't move my back away from the terminal wall, He will still win.
When the call comes in the middle of the night and I'm fumbling for the phone, sweating in terror, He will still win.
It doesn't mean it will always look how I wish it would, and it often doesn't. I'm face-to-face with a huge fear in my life right now that I wish I could just erase and pretend didn't exist. But I don't want to shrivel up and miss the beauty for the ashes.
All this madness...it isn't forever. Thank you, Jesus, it isn't forever...
I've run so hard, in so many directions, for so long...and I just need to remind myself that the race is not finished here. These momentary losses are nothing compared to the spectacular truth of eternity, and my life should whisper that.
Have you felt the sting of this life, friends? Is there a place in your life that you need to hear this reminder today? I speak from a place of ultimate humility, but with the confidence of a King's daughter.
Set your sights on that truth, no matter the battle.
Your Father is coming to win the war...
By: Angie, Bring the Rain
:angel:
Broken Glass
May 25, 2012 01:10 am | Haley Goodman
Recently, my daughter got herself into our downstairs bathroom cabinet that stores all of our candles. She has been known to "explore" this cabinet with me before, and has always been gentle with the items in it.
She was having a "day"... Molars were breaking through her sweet little sore gums and she was a little one on a mission to destroy all things in her way.
I could tell that she needed extra attention, but in the midst of trying to clean up breakfast dishes, piles of laundry, and the scattered toys everywhere, she found herself standing in that room alone.
I had my eyes on her; I could see her ten feet away from me. She was "in my sight" but far enough away from me to be independent.
Within a matter of mere seconds, she grabbed a candle incased in glass and threw it on the ground. I ran as fast as I could to catch her, and my breath was stuck in my throat as I saw her little foot about to step on shattered glass.
With the grace of God, I got there quick enough to grab her.
I didn't have time for graceful movements and soft tender touches. Trying to do anything to prevent her foot from landing in any of the glass, I grabbed her with a fierceness I didn't know I had. With one hand, I grabbed her little arm and lifted her up out of the brokenness she had found herself surrounded in.
My grip was so strong that her tiny head smacked into the doorframe. With tears coming down her face, I saw nothing but fear in her eyes. It was a mixture of so many emotions, muddled with the energy of the situation and firm voice I was using, and of course the literal impact of physical pain.
I could see that she was hurt, scared, and uncertain.
I was hell bent on making sure she was safe.
Away from the mess. Away from the bottom, the shattered glass, the danger. Clear of all the brokenness.
I quickly examined her little body, head to toe.
Heart to belly button.
She of course wasn't wearing a shirt and was without socks on her precious feet.
I expected the worse.
All clear except a minor scrape on her thumb.
How did I let this happen I kept thinking to myself?
I rushed to the sink in the kitchen to wash her finger.
As the water rushed over the blood pouring from her finger, tears streamed down my face.
She quickly calmed down and started playing in the sink.
Her immediate calm soothed my heart.
It could have been so much worse.
Muttered words of thankfulness began flowing from my mouth, tender words of absolute gratefulness to my Father who protected my daughter.
Grace.
His Grace for me, like a special gift that morning.
Undeserved favor- completely unmerited and yet so overwhelmingly appreciated.
How many times has He done that for me?
Grabbed me by my arm, out of the messy situation that I find myself in, with a fierceness that only a parent has for their child.
More times than I can count.
With tender touches He takes care of my bumps and bruises, comforts me, and provides healing for my broken heart.
He takes my brokenness and puts me together again.
He gently reminds me that bottom dwelling, and sitting in the midst of shattered glass is not what I have been called to.
He puts me together again, and then provides peace that makes me whole.
He took my sins upon Himself. He, who didn't deserve to bow down and get his hands dirty in my broken glass, did, for me.
He took my brokenness, and His wounds now heal me.
He always desires for me to be away from the mess.
Away from the bottom, the shattered glass, the danger.
Clear of all the brokenness.
And one by one, piece-by-piece, He is always faithful to put me together again.
"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."
- Isaiah 53:5 -
Written By Haley Goodman OCGoodmama
:angel: :angel:
I Went To Tanzania, Don't Ask Me About It M'Kay?
May 26, 2012 01:20 am | The Nester
some of the floor rubbed off onto my pants–when we went to visit the home of the boy my family sponsors~I still have them in a bag, I can't bear to wash them yet
Now that I've been back a full 13 days from the Compassion Bloggers trip to Tanzania (I'm writing this post the night before it's published if you are wondering) I'm finding the most common questions I get asked are "What was it REALLY like?" and "Can we hear all about your trip soon?" And the clincher "So, how has Africa changed you?". And I know these wonderful, caring people who ask me are lovely and genuine and I wish I had really great answers for them. It's not them, it's me. The introvert in me just wants to say oh, I'd love to tell you all about it, here's a link to my blog. And sometimes I do say that. It's a wonder I have any friends at all.
We went, and we wrote our hearts out. The highlight of the trip for me was getting to meet the 15-year-old boy that my family sponsors. And I certainly cannot put into words, not even one word how Africa has or hasn't changed me. I can barely sleep past 4:30 am still. A big part of me just simply doesn't feel like talking about it a whole lot right now. I just want to be. Before I went on this trip I figured when I got back I'd write a really great post here at (in)courage but right now, I feel like I've said all I can. If I write any more my words will just be getting in the way of the stories we saw. So I'm gonna tell you the same things I tell the friends I still have (the people who can actually put up with me~I have the most wonderful friends) wanna here about my trip, want to hear what really happened? Go read this:: Decorating Truths From a 15-Year-Old Tanzanian Boy because that post pretty much summed up the trip for me.
Also, Mary Carver did a lovely job of rounding up all the posts from the Compassion/Tanzania trip at her blog, stop by and check them out if you have a few minutes.
Who comes back from a trip and doesn't want to talk about it? Forgive me people of the world and thank you for putting up with me.
:angel:
Sunday Scripture
May 27, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love.
When you obey my commandments, you remain in my love, just as I obey my Father's commandments and remain in his love.
I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow! This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you.
There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends.
John 15: 9-14
:angel: :angel:
For Those Who Are Hurting Today
May 28, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
"You know your grandfather is dead, right?"
That's how she told me that my grandfather, the one who hung the moon in my world, had died. It was March 7, 1988. I was eight years old. A ball of flames had swallowed my grandfather up when his P51 Mustang "Dolly" crashed in the mountains.
"I know." I said, but I didn't really know. I knew he had been missing and my grandmother had been crying, but he was fine. He wasn't in a thousand pieces on some mountain where he stayed undiscovered for days.
Yes, he was.
So I went to eat at my friends house. They talked and passed around food and I squashed my tears so I could be good company.
My grandfather was dead. My grandfather, the WWII crew chief of a B-25 Mitchell bomber based in New Guinea, flying raids against the Japanese, was dead. He survived WWII but couldn't survive a trip to an air show.
I sobbed loudly into my pillow that night.
My mourning was all my own, and it had to be done in quiet. Every part of me ached; I loved him so much.
But today I'm saying, "God, I miss him." And I'm letting my tears fall and I'm wishing I could have known him as an adult.
Memorial day is when we remember those who have died in our nations service. My grandfather didn't die on the battlefield, but he was among those who did. And today, I'm thinking about my eight year old self and how my heart pulsed with pain when I found out he died. I'm thinking about all the eight year olds and seven year olds and little ones who have lost their mommy or daddy in a war, and I'm thinking about their hearts and their pain and I wish I could make it all better. But of course, I can't.
Today, let's remember those who bled on the battlefield.
And let's remember those who are left holding the pain.
Father, I pray for those who have lost a loved one to a war. I pray that you would give them arms to cry in, and the freedom to feel their emotions. I pray that you would comfort them, and soothe their spirits with peace. I pray for the little ones who have lost their parents to a war, I pray that you give them great pride in their parents courage and honor. I pray that you keep their little hearts tucked in tightly with yours, and I pray you would surround them with loving arms. Father, today we groan for heaven, for the day when pain will cease and only tearless eyes will be present. Hold our hearts today. In the name of Jesus, amen.
By Sarah Mae
:angel:
On This Memorial Day
May 28, 2012 01:15 am | Kristen Strong
My husband's best friend retired from the Air Force a few days ago, and I cried my eyes out during the ceremony.
I can't even explain why I cried, exactly. Partly because his words to his family were so warm and appreciative. But even more than that, I couldn't help but sense the winds of change in the air. Change has not typically been my best friend, which is one reason God arranged for me to fall in love with and marry an Air Force man. Seventeen years into this military lifestyle, change still may not be my best friend, but we do accept one another and have learned to play nice.
Military families accept change as an act of obedience to the job they are called to do. We accept the sacrifice that comes with it for the same reason. We sacrifice familiarity. We sacrifice our loved one's spot near the birthday cake or Thanksgiving meal. Sometimes, we even sacrifice their presence on this earth.
Our active duty military and their families are proud to serve, but we don't think we are super special or more important than you. In our eyes, we are just living in obedience to the God-created rhythm of sacrifice for a greater good. There is no getting around it: freedom costs. So we do what must be done for what we love. For whom we love.
On this Memorial Day, may the families of our fallen feel God especially close. May they know God holds every tear shed. After all, He knows the pain of losing a cherished one. And through the heartache and loneliness and days chock full of crazy, may all military families know God walks smack dab next to you. He sees the work you do, oh yes He does. It is important, valued, and appreciated. And so are you!
Do you have any Memorial Day traditions? And if you have a loved one currently serving or deployed, might you leave his or her first name in your comment so we can pray?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
No More Waiting
May 28, 2012 01:10 am | Maria B
My fingers are covered in post-it glue.
I've been furiously planning; leafing through pages and pages of "visit here!" slogans and photos of larger-than-life castles, endless greenery and hearty bowls of potato stew. My notes are scribbled and stuck everywhere... from "pack a sweater!" to "eat here!" to "how much is 10 euros?"
In a few months, my cute husband and I will be flying over the Atlantic to visit Ireland for 10 days of vacation and exploring. It's months away and still I could hardly sleep last night; counting the seconds until I get to see those impossibly beautiful cliffs and otherworldly ruins.
All my life, I've wanted to travel. Ever since I learned about the Egyptian pyramids in grade school and then heard the impossible words "they're still here," I've been determined to see "Out There."
But my husband and I are only a few years out of college, and travelling money hasn't been easy to come by. Neither, for that matter, has gas money or rent money or eating-something-other-than-oatmeal-for-dinner money. Don't get me wrong; we've had a blast navigating the beginning of our marriage and the art of creative money-saving (did you know Frisbees can make perfectly good dinner plates?) But in my heart of hearts for the past few years, I've been anxiously sweating over my desperateness to travel.
So when God gave us the gift this year of financially being able to hop over to the Emerald Isle, something happened. I said these words to my husband:
"I feel like my life just stopped being something I was waiting for."
Oh, to repent of that thought!
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt the gravity of how deeply I was betraying the significance of the years I've already lived. These years haven't been significant in that I cured cancer or converted multitudes. Rather, they are significant because they were Now.
God exists now. God says "I Am." Not "I Was" or "I Will Be" or "I'll Be Ready For You When You Get That Thing You Want." He Is, Now, always.
During my travel-less years, when I've answered the phone at work, He's had something to teach me. When I've bought milk and eggs at the store, He's had something to show me. When I've ironed Aaron's work shirts, again, He's longed for me. When I dreamed fitful dreams of far-off places I didn't think I'd ever see, He tried to help me fix my eyes, instead, on Right Then.
One of the most miraculous gifts that God gives his people is that every second we breathe is significant; because in these seconds, we can commune with Him.
Even though I still can't wait for our trip and to see the wonders of God's Irish creations that I've post-it-marked up and down, I want to live Now and realize that I can commune with God both in the break room at work and at the Glendalough monastic ruins.
And that communion, my friends, is what we were waiting for. But then He came, and died. And rose.
Stop waiting.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
In the Garden {Good for the Soul}
May 29, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
While creating a comfortable and beautiful home for my family is something I truly love to do, I actually think I enjoy creating little gardens outside even more. Perhaps it is because God Himself had His own hand on those plants, designing their intricate unique leaves, textures and colorful flowers. He delighted in each detail. That is an incredible thought!
When I am outside digging in the dirt and filling my planters with God's lovely handiwork each summer, I really feel a sense of supernatural peace come over me.
Let's be honest, I don't have a green thumb and many of the plants I bring home eventually die. It is true. I don't mean to, but it happens. I don't particularly sense God's gardening favor on me, but that doesn't seem to matter much. Even though I don't have a clue what I'm doing with plants, I still sense God's love and presence there. He feels near.
Working with plants and creating a little oasis from the world outside in a garden reminds me of the tender care He puts into His creation. Why do I worry? Why do I let myself stress out about anything? Slowing down the hectic pace of life to spend time in my little garden reminds me He is there and He cares, more than I can really even imagine.
Gardening is good for my soul.
Do you sense God's presence when you work in the garden?
Come see more of my little garden oasis this week at The Inspired Room!
:angel:
When Fear Is Removed
May 30, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth
The stress of the unknown weighted me anxious. I had an opportunity to pursue ... a decision to make. A stirring deep within concocted a desire to explore. I didn't know why, but I knew that I must.
I knew that good would come from the exploration. Earth-shattering change was not eminent. Altering my life was not required; but inspection, scrutiny and analysis of situation and self demanded action. Yet, I froze ... suspended in a nebula of confusion and fear.
Questions that I did not want to answer hovered. Undesirable scenarios loomed. A visual of potential hurt feelings flashed in my mind's eye. Threats of failure danced around me. Doubts circled and sang what-if?
I locked eyes with a Godly friend and whined.
"I need someone to make this decision for me. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."
"Explore it," she decided ... quickly. Too quickly for my liking.
"I was hoping for a different answer," I sighed.
Then, she offered instruction. "Take fear out of the equation. Now, what do you want to do?"
I smiled. "I want to see what this is really about."
She returned my smile with one of her own, "Then, that's what you do."
So I explored. And I learned. And I grew.
In its unhealthy form, fear is, at best, an obstacle ... at worst, it is an agent of paralysis and atrophy. When removed from the equation, fear is left without power and the right choice rises to the surface.
"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near." Hebrews 10:23-25 NASB.
So friend ... what decision(s) do you need to make? Is fear keeping you from moving forward? What would you do, if fear was removed from the equation?
By Angela, Womb Woven and Wonderfully Made
:angel:
The King is Enthralled By Your Beauty
May 30, 2012 01:10 am | Christine Wright
The hurt was so deep, I didn't even know it was there. Thank goodness, I thought to myself, almost everyone we knew was finally out of the dreaded "wedding stage" and into the "baby stage".
Well ahead of the curve, I'd passed through the milestones of early adulthood before any of my friends...but that meant by the time they started down the aisles, the pain in my heart had started slowly growing.
I couldn't even tell it was there at first...I just knew I didn't like weddings.
It didn't help that my husband knew enough people that at one point we were going to so many weddings, we had stopped traveling for any other reason. Our world revolved around these "celebrations".
One morning, everything changed.
For the most part, all was quiet on the invite-front, but every now and then one would still come in. My husband innocently asked me if I'd RSVP'd to it. I couldn't believe how snippy I got with him from just that one question. I had not RSVP'd and did not plan on doing it until much closer to the deadline, I explained, very pointedly. You never know what might happen between now and then to save me, I was thinking.
After we went back and forth a little bit, him stating why it was very important for us to go (this is a good place to add that he loves to watch his friends get married...LOVES it), me trying to defend myself, but just getting more upset, I started to understand this was something deeper.
Aware that I needed to pray, I retreated with my Bible. God started re-tracing the hurt. Years and years were unpacked and as they were exposed to the truth, the more embarrassed by my pain I felt. Shamed by the darkness in my heart, I wanted to run and hide.
He gently showed me the story behind my sadness anyway. You see, I never got to be a bride. Never even got to try on a dress.
We married quickly (in jeans!) on the side of a snow covered mountain. It was beautiful, but it left a longing in me I didn't even know was there until that morning The pain of never having had a wedding, so powerful, I thought it might wash right over me in that moment.
I knew The One who could speak the truth into that dark crevasse, where no light had been for so long, was ready and willing, I was just taken aback by how strong my feelings were, and I was ashamed. It was a whopper of a 1-2 punch by the enemy, not only the shattering lies of envy and hatred Satan had placed, but then the shame that kept them firmly rooted in that dark soil.
I sat there with God...Him, patient as always, waiting for me to again realize, life through Him is really the only way. He wrapped me in His mighty love. I finally opened my Bible, hungry for His living word. Not knowing exactly what I needed to read, just knowing I had to see His words...to have them in front of me, to drink them in, get them down deep in my spirit.
God led me directly to Psalm 45. A wedding song.
Truly a God moment. I was reminded in that instant that someday I would indeed be a bride...in a heavenly marriage. I sat in tears for a long time. God took each little shard of hurt, down to the last splinter, and gently removed it from my heart.
It was then my heart rested and I knew I would never look at a wedding the same way.
"The King is enthralled by your beauty; honor Him, for He is your Lord." Psalm 45:11
By: Christine, Living Joel 2:25
:angel: :angel:
A Prayer for the BrokenHearted
May 31, 2012 04:25 am | Ann Voskamp
Father of the broken-hearted daughter...
oh, hear our prayer....
Give Your daughter the wisdom to know it:
Hiding when you're hurting won't heal you and growing isolated can just let infection grow.
Give Your daughter the love to live it:
The secret way to heal a broken heart is to let love leak out like an ocean through all the cracks.
Give Your daughter grace to do the crazy impossible:
It's the hurting and wounded who are always the ones called to be medics — to administer lavish grace, to cast the messy in the best, merciful light.
The best way to tend to your open wounds is to open your arms. Out-loving is the only ointment that healed anything.
Let the broken choose it: When you're most wounded by words, run to the only Word that always brings healing.
Let the broken see it: When you're wounded and need dressing, look in the mirror, touch you face, and see how He clothes you in righteousness, wraps you in promises, swathes you in a Savior — who saves.
When you have Jesus on the inside, you're never on the outside.
Let the broken say it: When you're bruised by lies, believe truth and whisper it louder: I am my Beloved's.
When Love's got hold of you, there isn't a lie in the universe that can pull you apart.
Let the broken trust it: Giving the benefit of the doubt — is what benefits the people of the Faith.
Doesn't love always believe the best, not the worst?
And may that wind the brokenhearted daughter faces, may it fly her hair like a glory flag,
And may the hills that rise before her be but an exhilaration,
And may all her trials be but a trail,
all the stones on the way be but grace stairs to God.
:
In name of Jesus who broke His heart to heal ours...
Amen...
:
:
~ praying with you, with love, from Ann Voskamp
Related Posts: When You've been Wounded, Cheated, Disappointed, & Heartbroken
Q4U: How have you been broken? What's one nugget of wisdom you've learned in the midst of the brokenness?
How can we join you in praying for the brokenhearted?
:angel:
Do You Make Time for the Children?
Jun 01, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
Not your own children. Other people's children and not just the children of your best friends. Children at church and in your neighborhood.
Let me share with you the story of a sweet relationship that started recently because someone made time for and paid attention to my youngest daughter.
Sister Fairy approached me on a recent Sunday morning before church carrying two take-out containers: one contained a large cinnamon roll and the other a cream horn. The previous Sunday several of us went to CiCi's Pizza after church and apparently Sister Fairy took the last cinnamon roll at the buffet just moments before my youngest daughter, Lily, went to get her own.
This sweet lady, a petite woman with a swirl of white curls, worried all week about that roll and brought these two desserts to my little Lily. When she asked if she could give them to her, I immediately said yes.
"Jerry said that with all of those kids I couldn't take this to just one, but I said yes, I can, because Lily's the one that I took the last cinnamon roll from," she told me, with a twinkle in her eye. (Brother Jerry, her husband, is a tall man with kind blue eyes that trickle when he prays and I love him dearly.)
I knew this wasn't about sugar or a possibly spoiled dinner. It was about concern for the feelings of my little girl. What mother could say no to that?
I didn't witness the apology and the giving of the gift, but I heard all about it from my kids, many of whom seemed to wish they'd been in Lily's place the previous week. She shared the cream horn, but enjoyed every last bite of that cinnamon roll.
Two weeks ago we were shocked and saddened by Sister Fairy's sudden death from a massive heart attack. Sometimes when an older church member passes away, my kids don't know them by name unless I give a description; point out where they usually sit; or even show a church directory picture. This wasn't a problem with Sister Fairy; my kids knew exactly who she was.
I told the story of the cinnamon roll to a friend as we walked into services that Sunday and she encouraged me to share, so I stood and recounted this tale and the example that I pray lives on in the telling of it. I'm sad that this bond, this friendship between young and old, was cut short so soon after it began, but I hope it's sealed in my little girl's memory. Demonstrating love and kindness to the youngest among us—showing them they have value in our eyes—might impact their lives in ways beyond today, beyond what we can even imagine.
What can you do to show love to the children around you? Do you have a memory of an adult who paid special attention to you as a child?
By: Dawn, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
Summer Bucket Lists Aren't Just for Kids
Jun 02, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
Last summer I hand-wrote a pretty lofty, but doable list and taped it on the front of my refrigerator. It was our summer bucket list.
My daughters are at this great age where it's very easy to take them places. At the beach they carry their own bags, at the pool they can swim with supervision but not constant helicoptering, and at the regional park they can hike and walk without needing to be carried. This school-aged independence has made for super active {read super-fun and super-exhausting} summers in the last year or two.
Last summer's bucket list had about 35 activities on it and they ranged from the exciting to the normal. And I think by Labor Day we had ticked off nearly all of them.
Go to Art Camp
Go on a nature walk at the nature center.
Collect seashells at the beach
Play-date with Audrey and Amelia
Pack a picnic and take it to the park
An "I'm-bored" gets met with "Let's-pick-something-from-the-bucket-list." So the days we're all tempted to play video games and eat chocolate covered pretzels turn into days we play tag in a field. We do things that are a little outside of our comfortable zone and we all end up loving it.
School is nearly out for us and I'm thinking about what things I want to include on a summer bucket list for my almost-first-grader and my almost-fifth-grader this year.
Then I thought: What would a Mom-bucket list look like?
What if we, as moms and dads, as women, married or unmarried, as daughters of the Kingdom, created bucket lists for ourselves.
We might choose things that put us a bit out of our comfortable places, that take us up off the couch, that let us interact with people and in places that we wouldn't normally be. We could create "bucket lists" that help further the Kingdom and help reach out with love and grace to others. What if we...
Invite the next door neighbors over for a BBQ {You know – the ones we never talk to?}.
Volunteer a Saturday and do errands for an older couple in the community.
Sign up to mentor a pregnant teen or an at-risk child in our town.
Write our sponsor child several times before the summer is over (or sign up to sponsor one!)
Drive someone somewhere who needs a ride.
Memorize a poem or a chapter of the Bible.
Researched an organization we were always curious about.
If we blog, write about your current struggles (with grace) rather than stuff we've already overcome.
Begin the thing we've been waiting to do {adoption process, writing a book, starting your business)
The list doesn't have to be long but it should be slightly different than what you normally do, a bit uncomfortable even. Let us come into this brilliant summer with others on our mind and with hearts open to give and to love.
Add your own: What is something you can do this summer to a.) get out of your comfort zone and b.) share love with someone else?
:angel:
This is a community of sisters.
This is a community of women who promise to have each others' backs.
This is a community of women who cheer each other on.
This is a community of women who believe the best of one another.
This is a community of women who delight in each others' success, celebrate each others' joys and wrap arms and prayers around each others' broken hearts.
This is a community of women who understand crisis – financial, family or faith.
This is a community of women who prays together.
"Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others."
Romans 12: 4-5
Sisters, how can we pray for you today?
What part of you is aching? What part of you has something to celebrate?
We welcome your prayer requests in the comments. And as you open your hearts to us, will you take a moment to kneel down for the sister who commented before you? And whisper a prayer over her alongside your own request.
You are beloved.
You are beloved.
:angel:
When You Get to Turn the Chair Around
Jun 04, 2012 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
The endless blue sky stretched above us. "Let's sit on the patio for lunch," my husband said as we settled in at our favorite pizza place. I chose the seat looking outward, over the low fence and ahead into the world. I couldn't see anyone but my husband next to me.
A few minutes later he leaned in and whispered, "The table of women behind us is reading your book." I slapped his hand playfully and said, "No, they're not." He repeated, "Really, they're reading your book." (This isn't the first time I've mistaken truth for teasing. I did the same thing when he proposed. But that's another story.)
I tried to casually glance over my shoulder without looking like a stalker and sure enough, a table of about twelve women had my book spread out in all directions. I could barely make out underlines and highlights, hear a little of the laughter and intensity in their conversation over what God was speaking to their hearts.
I turned back and sat still, stunned. Soon a grin spread across my face and happy tears filled my eyes.
Because this is how we go through life, isn't it?
We try to be obedient. We take our place at the table with Jesus. We love Him.
But we don't always get to really see the results. We don't always know the impact.
And as I sat there, it seemed He whispered to my heart, "Heaven is when you get to turn the chair completely around."
Right now I type away at a keyboard a lot of the time. It's good and I'm so grateful. It's just that sometimes it's hard too. Sometimes it's lonely. Sometimes I wonder if it matters.
I imagine the same is true for you in whatever you're called to do–being a mama, running a company, volunteering, you know what that thing is for you.
So I want to lean in and whisper to you, "Dear Sister, trust that there is more than you can see. Trust that what you're doing makes a difference. Trust that one day you will get to turn the chair around and see fully."
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. I Cor. 13:12
Until then, God gives us little glimpses. Just like my husband did as he whispered a quiet word or two about what those women were doing that I couldn't see. We smiled together, the two of us. And I think God smiles with us as we sit with Him at the table of life too.
Eventually our pizza was gone and it was the moment. Time to turn the chair around completely and see. And it was the most beautiful sight. Women of all ages and races. The body of Christ.
I fidgeted. I began to sweat. And just before they thought about calling security, I finally stammered out an awkward, "Um, hey, I wrote that book." Then before I knew it I had hugs thrown around my neck.
It felt like a welcome home.
And I tasted for a moment what it would like to really be Home. Sweet Joy.
Seeing the unseen. Knowing and touching and feeling what it means to be a small part of the very big work God is doing in the world.
You may not be able to see the difference that you're making, the lives you're touching, the joy you're bringing. But it's there. It's real. It's truer than true. So sit at that table with Jesus. Do what He says. Give Him your life and hold nothing back. Let Him give you glimpses of glory.
Then one day He'll whisper the words, "It's time to turn the chair around, Daughter." And you'll see, really see.
Then we'll rejoice fully in what He's done together.
Forever.
Woo-hoo!
– Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing
:angel:
When Nothing is All You Have to Give
Jun 05, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
You can't do this. You can't do this. You can't do this.
The words taunt, my eyes fill, heart pounding, red creeps up my neck.
A knock on the door, a lady presents a lapel microphone and instructs me like I'm Somebody. I push it away and ask to stand hidden behind the podium and the thousand eyes waiting for me to inspire them.
"I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this," I try to sound lighthearted as she closes the door.
I can't even breathe. My inadequacy fills the room.
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, I crack at my husband's calm voice more than a thousand miles away.
"I can't do this," I say it out loud, I'm holding back a flood.
"Why?" he says gently
I whisper "Because I have nothing left to give."
He knew how challenging our week had been. He knew how inadequate we both felt during this season of hard parenting. He knew how exhausted I was, he knew he held me the night before as we prayed over our children and gave them back to God again. And he knew what to say:
"That's exactly what you need to say when you walk out on that stage in the next 5 minutes. That's why you must do this. These women don't need to hear that you have it all together and have got this mothering thing down. They need to know you're just like them. They need to see your struggle and know you're real. They don't need to hear from you; they need to hear from Him."
He put me on hold and I took a long, deep breath. We ended the call with my children praying over me. It was a holy moment hearing their voices lifting me up to our Father.
And so that's what I did: I gave them all I had, which was actually nothing.
It was in my emptiness that He moved. He encouraged thru my brokenness. He asked for my all and my nothing was enough.
It's in our weakness, He is made strong.
Maybe when you reach down deep, you come up empty or maybe you give to everyone else and have nothing left for yourself. I'm willing to bet if you're a mother, wife or a busy woman, wearing a multitude of hats, you have days where you run on empty.
So go ahead, give Him your nothing. His hands are open, ready to receive it.
But step back, girl, because when you aren't enough, He is.
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
A Pocket Full of Rocks
Jun 05, 2012 01:10 am | Amanda Ledford
Conner almost always come home from school with rocks in his pockets. His teachers have actually started getting on to him about this. Haha. He always tells them,
"I have to get some for my mommy. "
Why he feels the need to bring me rocks every day? I don't know..but I think it's sweet. I could probably fill up a giant pickle jar with the little rocks he has brought me if I kept them all. I asked him one day why he chose the certain rocks that he did and he said,
"I just did."
Sometimes he says they are shiny or cool...and sometimes they are ugly and dirty...but he presents them in a way as if they are so beautiful. Like I am going to be so enthralled at the beauty of these rocks. Besides the fact that they are from Conner–there is nothing particularly special about them. But Conner thinks so.
I found myself the other day asking God what He could be showing me through Conner giving me these rocks every day. Its pretty neat how God can speak to us through simple things as this.
My answer was this: You are beautiful. I chose you. My grace is sufficient.
I have been reading a book called Made To Crave and its about satisfying our cravings with God instead of other things. So far it's a pretty good book and ventures through other things that people use like drugs, food, and other addictions. I've struggled with the way I view myself–in probably every way–spiritually, physically, etc. Letting myself believe that I'm not good enough..I don't do enough of something...and on and on with these negative tapes in my head...letting others steal the joys of my talents and passions. And making myself believe things that are not true. Lets just say –Satan knows exactly what to do to get me down. But in reading the book this passage has stuck out to me the most–
"I've found my beautiful. And I like my beautiful. I don't have to hold my beautiful up to others with a critical eye of judgment. Like Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not."
God chose me. He loves me. I wasn't a perfect and smooth rock when he found me–I was broken and cracked..yet he still thought I was beautiful.
Today at church there was a man that was baptized. He did not go to our church–he was trying to catch a bus across the street and the station happened to be closed. So, he decided to come in and attend the service. Through the service he accepted Christ and got Baptized—forget the bus ride-he found Jesus! :) He wants that man to find his beautiful and experience Love too. He wants us to find our beautiful.
He wants me to stop and look at my "beautiful" and embrace it instead of trying to find it in other things. He even tries to show me through simple things like Conner bringing me rocks. So now, every time Conner brings me rocks from play time or when I hear the clanging in the dryer from escaped rocks out of his pockets.. I am reminded..
You are beautiful. I chose you. My grace is sufficient.
My prayer is that you will see and hear God's beauty in simple things and remember these words too.
Be brave.
By: Amanda Ledford
:angel: :angel:
You're Right, Christian Women {and (in)courage Writers} Aren't Immune From Cliques
Jun 06, 2012 01:20 am | Lisa-Jo
The last time I really dressed up to impress a man was probably a decade ago when Peter and I were still in the do-you-notice-me-not-noticing-you-noticing-me phase. The last time I dressed up to impress another woman was yesterday morning when I painstakingly blow-dried my hair before escorting a group of preschoolers on a field trip to the farm.
To. The. Farm.
Micah's teacher is the opposite of me in every way. She is petite and effortlessly fashionable with truly great hair. So 7:30am found me determined to tame my own unruly mane. There may also have been eyeliner and a cute purse involved.
No one can make us quite as unsure about ourselves as another woman.
We can stand knee deep in witty conversation holding cup cakes in one hand and our cell phones with brilliant Twitter commentary in the other only to retreat to hotel rooms and whisper in quiet tears to our roommate how left out we felt.
We want to matter to the people we think matter.
Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. "Teacher," they said, "we want you to do for us whatever we ask."
"What do you want me to do for you?" he asked.
They replied, "Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory."
We want them to want to room with us.
We want them to want to read what we wrote.
We want them to want to share bits of themselves with us that they don't share with anyone else.
We want them to invite us in.
Into the shared secrets and secret Facebook groups. Into the late night conversations and group blogging communities. Into the vacation, beach house getaways and photos of sunsets on the beach.
Into the conferences and ad campaigns, into the Skype calls and mom's groups, into the planning committees and vacation plans.
We want in.
Left on the wrong side of the door I can regress into a third grade version of myself in mere minutes.
Lisa-Jo the too tall. Lisa-Jo the awkward. Lisa-Jo the sticky-out-eared-teenager.
Lisa-Jo the too loud. Lisa-Jo the too much mom-talk, too much South African, too much opinion.
There is a voice that whispers all the reasons we deserve to be out.
There is a voice that taunts.
There is a voice that remorselessly lists every time we've found ourselves on the outside and revels in each remembering.
There is a voice that will hypnotize if we let it. That will poison and paralyze our friendships by focusing on the moments when we felt excluded.
The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it.
~C.S Lewis, "The Inner Ring," Memorial Lecture at King's College, University of London, 1944.
Blink.
Blink and see it's a mirage.
The illusion that there's an inner circle we've been left out of; the lie that we've been left out on purpose.
We're built for friendship, yes. We have community in our bones. And when we're desperate and blinded by the taunting mirage of the inner circle we will drink the sand- angry, gritty, bitter and confused.
When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John.
Jesus called them together and said, "You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."
We can fight to find a way in or we can love on the women where we're at.
We can obsess over who didn't talk to us or we can focus on the woman we're talking to.
We can keep looking for a seat at a more popular table or we can pass the bread basket and an introduction to the women sitting right where we already are.
And if in your spare time you consort simply with the people you like, you will again find that you have come unawares to a real inside:
that you are indeed snug and safe at the center of something which, seen from without, would look exactly like an Inner Ring.
But the difference is that its secrecy is accidental, and its exclusiveness a by-product, and no one was led thither by the lure of the esoteric: for it is only four or five people who like one another meeting to do things that they like.
This is friendship. Aristotle placed it among the virtues. It causes perhaps half of all the happiness in the world, and no Inner Ring can ever have it.
~C.S Lewis, "The Inner Ring," Memorial Lecture at King's College, University of London, 1944.
Everyone is on the outside of something. But that is only half the story.
We are all on the inside of something often without even realizing it.
Do you see?
Blink.
Do you see them? Your people.
Look around.
Wipe the mirage out of your eyes.
Now, who do you see?
::
By Lisa-Jo, community manager of (in)courage and cheerleader for kind words
:angel:
Kindness Matters
Jun 07, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer
My husband had just come out of a nearly 13 hour brain surgery and was in intensive care. I had left the room and my mom stayed with him while I was gone. Years later, he still remembers a comforting touch from her. She said no words, no words were needed. It was the simple comfort from a touch that made a difference in that moment. In a time of pain, the comfort a caring touch brought was a gift.
Have you ever taken an extra moment to ask a co-worker how they are?
Have you ever just been there for a hurting friend?
Have you ever been supportive to someone when no one else was supporting?
Have you ever taken the time to notice someone's hard work and thank them?
Have you ever taken the time to pray for someone?
Have you ever listened attentively to someone when they needed to talk?
Do you know what you did mattered? I mean really mattered?
Do you know you could have changed a life? With a few words, with your actions, with listening, with praying. You could have been the one voice in their life at that moment that they needed to hear to change everything for them. You could have been the one person whose support encouraged them to keep going. You could have been the one person to help them see the love of Jesus. Do you know it could be something they will remember the rest of their life? It could be a defining moment in their life.
What would happen if on those days, just because it was little and you didn't think it would matter, you chose to not do your act of kindness? What if it was left undone?
"Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40
Your actions and your words and your prayers and your love matters. Your kindness matters. It matters to those who receive it. Most important... it matters to HIM. He sees. He knows.
He will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them. Hebrews 6:10
We may not be able to help everyone, but we can all help someone. No act of kindness is too small. It all matters. We would love to hear an act of kindness that made a difference for you?
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
Trusting from the Right Position
Jun 07, 2012 01:10 am | Abby Aranzamendez
Trusting God is something that I can confidently say I do. I've been trusting God ever since I knew He can be trusted. Yet how easily I freak out when difficult situations, from which I think I need immediate rescuing, turn even more dim and hopeless. I whine, panic, and doubt. I want to see God's hands now—and quick. When I don't see things changing, I go out of my way to turn things around myself.
No, I'm not moving ahead of God. I'm just doing my part, I reason.
But God makes me realize my trust is superficial. I'm just trusting with my head. Sure, this kind of trust gives me a sense of peace. After all, wouldn't it be comforting when your head tells you, "Yeah, I've got that trusting part covered?" But when things get more difficult to handle, head-based trust doesn't stand up to the test. Soon, it expires.
We know we're trusting with our heads when we try to manipulate things—and yes, even control God—into meeting our prayers. So in the end, trusting with just our heads is not trusting at all.
Proverbs 3:5 tells us to trust the Lord with all our hearts. And only from the position of the heart can we fully trust God. It is internalized and reflected through actions, or sometimes even inaction. It is about relinquishing control of situations and being still while carefully tuning in to God and listening to His directions.
What I learned about God is that His voice is small, soft, and peaceful. So when the voice in my head is loud, has a timbre of worry, and prompts me to do things quick, I know that is not God speaking. And I know I've not been trusting from the right position.
What does trusting God with the heart look like? Quite simply, it looks like the familiar trust fall game. Difficult situations push and make us fall to the ground. But heart-based trust is aware that God has our back. It tells us that even though we don't know how He's going to catch us or how fast He's going to do so, He won't let us touch the ground.
Head-based trust is confident that God can pull off a perfect rescue operation. But it requires all the details of God's plans to make us still. When it doesn't have full knowledge of the details—and God never makes all the details known—its confidence diminishes. Eventually it will talk us into getting on with our own plans.
Head-based trust is impatient. It illuminates our weakness and the urgency of the situation. But heart-based trust builds up our confidence and strength while we wait on God. And certainly, it knows that something supernatural is accomplished as we go through uncomfortable, painful situations.
Head-based trust is short-lived. Heart-based trust can see us through the night and into the morning.
Friends, it's time to check ourselves. Are we trusting from the right position?
By Abby Aranzamendez, a life chronicler at Journal the Sojourn
:angel: :angel:
Love-stuffed
Jun 08, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance
I visited a friend recently whose home had been invaded by giraffes.
Stuffed with fluff and mile-wide toothless grins, they told me plenty about the home I was visiting: it was a happy sort of place with a lot of littles underfoot. Three to be exact, stairsteps from nine months to four years.
Oh, I remember that time of life! Just like my friend Kim, when my third was born my oldest was months away from her fifth birthday. The days were long and some of them demanded e v e r y t h i n g of me just to make it to bedtime. Theirs...and then mine. No one could have loved their babies more or savored each season with more relish than me, but that doesn't mean it wasn't hard at times.
Motherhood and ministry, Jesus and Germany, life and love–our conversation never stopped. And no matter where we wandered in her home ~ usually to follow her babies ~ there was a giraffe or two smiling back at me.
I couldn't help mentioning it; something about them pricked my mama heart, I suppose the memory of my own daughter's collection of lovies. Usually kitties, now given or boxed away. except for Princess, her Velveteen Rabbit.
But our time was limited and talk of giraffes swiftly moved on to other things.
Too soon it was time to go.
As we walked to the door to hug our good-byes, Kim pressed something soft and cuddly into my hand: it was the tiniest giraffe.
"I want you to take this back with you to Germany," she began. "Every time you look at it, remember there are people here who love you, remember you, and are praying for you whether you know it or not."
Her eyes meant business as she looked straight through my own and into my heart, her tone insistent but not demanding, "Don't ever forget it...."
She was speaking life into my future, months down the road, when living abroad might loose a bit of its sparkle and shine. When I might feel lonely and forgotten. How could she possibly know? I wondered.
But isn't this what we all crave, regardless of stage of life or our circumstances?
We need to be crazy-loved.
And we are.
We want to be known and remembered.
And we are.
We cherish prayer on our behalf.
Because this is the will of God.
A grown woman with a stuffed giraffe might sound ridiculous to some people, but to me it is a treasure! In a child's stuffed toy, I have been (and will be!) loved and remembered and prayed for. In a simple, spontaneous gesture, Kim made a difference in my life and seeded joy for the future.
Aren't the best gifts we receive the ones that transcend the gift itself?
Best gifts are tokens of love and affection.
Best gifts are forever remembered.
Best gifts remind us of the giver.
Best gifts don't satisfy a physical appetite or desire but they can encourage, inspire, challenge and bring hope and healing.
Best gifts touch our heart, soul and spirit.
For God so loved the world that He gave...
Yes...! Jesus is the BEST best gift.
Lovies, tell us all about a "best gift" you've received. In so doing, you'll pay honor to the giver and you'll give the rest of us ideas about how we can be best givers.
By Robin Dance, author of PENSIEVE, who gives high regard to, and happens to prefer, a thoughtful re-gift.
:angel:
Lunch Dates and Making Time for Friends
Jun 09, 2012 01:30 am | Jessica Turner
Photo by Dawn Camp
In May, when my daughter was 10 months old, I weaned nursing her on my lunch break. You see, I had spent the previous eight months (since going back to work) visiting her day care every day at noon to nurse her.
Those 30 minutes with her were a highlight of my day, every day. And I would not do it any other way.
However, that commitment meant I could never make plans at lunch.
Since weaning her, I have scheduled a flurry of lunch dates with friends.
And it has been glorious.
I have realized how important it is to have REAL, FACE-TO-FACE time with friends.
As good as it is to connect with a friend on the phone, sharing a meal is better.
The past year has been hard – both physically (literally!) and emotionally draining. I didn't realize that my limited "grown-up" time had also impacted my well-being.
But looking back, I can see that it had.
God created us as relational beings, and it is important that we seek out community with those He has placed in our lives.
Several of my friends and I have committed to putting a lunch date on the calendar every month. As the lunch ends, we pull out our calendars and pick out a date for the next month.
The commitments of life (be it nursing a baby or something else) should not prevent relationship from happening, it just means you have to be more intentional.
With whom can you call and schedule a lunch date?
:angel:
About The Sunday Community:
On Sundays at Jumping Tandem, I post a photo, and a few sentences from the bible (because it helps me make sure I'm checking in with that book at least once a week). I include a linky so you can join in. I like to keep Sundays simple, so link up with a photo or a series of photos, and – if you'd like – some words of inspiration. Then, grab the Sunday button (from here) and post it on your page.
It's become a beautiful, quiet community, where we start our Sundays together. Because I know how crazy Sunday mornings can sometimes be, the linky is available to you on Saturday nights. You can check in sometime between 8 and 9 PM, CST.
Welcome. I'm looking forward to sharing Sundays with you, and I'm so glad to be hosting the community at (in)courage today. Join us? Just link up your simply quiet Sunday post below (the linky stays open all week):
<a href="http://deidrariggs.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.deidrariggs.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/JT-Button-OR.png"></a>
:angel:
One Thing That Will Help You Shine Today
Jun 11, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
For this current military assignment, my husband teaches physics at the United States Air Force Academy. Recently he got a break from the college cadets to give a "physics is fun" demo to several of the science classes at our sons' middle school. And let me just stop right here to say in my book, any sentence with "physics" and "fun" in it is crazy irony. But that's because math and science aren't really my friends.
While I find anything science-y to be monotonous-y, most of the 6th grade and 7th grade classes hearing David's demos thought otherwise. The positive, exuberant comments were so prevalent the boys' homeroom teacher wrote me a kind note detailing all the love floating around in the hallway and classroom.
Now, I know some of those kids are like me and science just isn't their thing. But David is a fantastic teacher to young kids and college kids alike, and he knows how to make the material fun. Of course, it helps that he loves it and gets excited teaching it. And lest you think my man's teaching style is super demonstrative, know he is a true introvert. But his delivery of the material is excellent, so even those young'uns who don't get all wahoo! about science find themselves interested. David gets all things science and is gifted at helping you get it, too.
Now, David knows not all his students love science, but he does not go into each classroom and poll students on it. He doesn't apologize for instructing them on something some might not be all that fired up about. He doesn't worry about what they like, don't like, and how it all relates to him. It isn't his job to worry about all that. It's his job to walk confidently in the gifts God gave him. To just do the thing God created him to do.
When it comes to my own callings, I'm not always this brave. I take on responsibilities that aren't mine to own and fall all over myself apologizing for what I fear may be different from what others want, expect, or enjoy. So when I read what Paul wrote to the Galatians, I receive fresh inspiration on what attitude to have concerning my own calling:
"But when God, who set me apart from my mother's womb and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, my immediate response was not to consult any human being." Galatians 1:15-16
Paul didn't form a committee or ask a show of hands for all those who might think he'd be better suited elsewhere. Given his history of trying to destroy the church, I'm sure many skeptical people would have tried to talk him out of his God given calling. But Paul didn't give them a chance. He knew his assignment, and he stepped out in confidence to complete what he was created to do.
I love the way the Message translates how we are to step into our gifts:
"God doesn't want us to be shy with his gifts, but bold and loving and sensible." 2 Timothy 1:7
When we step out boldly and confidently, enthusiasm usually shows up, too. And when enthusiasm is at the party, fear doesn't have room to dance.
As long as what you are doing is in line with Scripture and God's will, then strap on your favorite dancing shoes and step into that calling. Clasp the responsibilities only He's given you. Complete what you're created to do.
Are you confident in God's plans for you? Even if you may not know what those plans are today? Do you feel you can rest in that confidence?
Kristen getting-braver Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Praying Anything And A Giveaway
Jun 11, 2012 01:10 am | Jennie Allen
We have 4 days together. I want them to count and I believe as a generation of women, we are all reading blogs and dreaming and praying and growing like weeds, and we are all just hurting for God to use us in our sticky kitchens and cubicles. There has to be a way to live a story like this in the suburbs since most of us aren't moving to Africa.
One word.
But I warn you, it's potentially the most life altering word you will say.
Anything.
Zac and I climbed into bed on a completely average night two years ago. We were pretty tired. We just laid there looking at the ceiling, with only small firework fantasies of what God might say. Zac took my hand and spoke the simple words we had been processing for the past few months but not yet been ready to say.
God had been opening our eyes to how precious our temporary lives were and how numbly we were moving through them.
We were over it. We were over building our lives. We were over houses and cars and cute Christmas cards. We wanted something; we couldn't put our finger on it. It was burning in us. We had loved so many other things more than God.
We were ready to do anything.
So we prayed. As sincerely as I have ever prayed any other thing, I prayed in my heart as Zac spoke:
"God we will do anything. Anything."
It didn't feel fancy. It wasn't even a big deal. But the prayer held in it a thousand little deaths. In saying anything, it meant we were handing him everything. My heart raced a little at the thought... and then we fell asleep.
Anything // Jennie Allen from Jennie Allen on Vimeo.
This prayer is not about accomplishing some visually stunning display of martyrdom or philanthropy. This surrender is simply an agreement with the living, active God of the universe saying He can have us completely. But just like my 4 year old jumping off the side of the pool into my arms, surrender requires full and utter confidence that God is real and that He is worth the jump.
So finish the sentence...
I am afraid_________.
We start here. What is holding you back?
GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment answering this question to enter for a chance to win a copy of Anything or post a photo of your fear here.
We will choose one winner each day this week.
I'll start.
I am afraid I will lose people's approval.
So I play it safe and almost miss the stories God has for me.
****
:angel: :angel:
Letting Go of Scrapbooks and a Giveaway
Jun 12, 2012 01:20 am | Jennie Allen
"Today I started a scrapbook," she told me excitedly as we sat talking about God and futures. She had a lot of future ahead. Alex was 19 and a sophomore at University of Texas her blonde ringlets bounced as she talked, I imagined her having a similar expression and posture as a 5 year old asking her mom for a popsicle.
She went on, "I started a scrapbook describing all I hope for... so I can picture it. I just started cutting out the things that I want, a white two story house, a black volvo SUV, even the cute husband and number of cute kids."
I sat speechless, trying not to laugh. I knew this was a girl that adored God and sincerely knew Him. And while, I had never known anyone to be so bold as to build an actual scrapbook, I thought to myself-
I have one of those. We all have them.
We all have the pictures of our lives in our minds, how they "should" be. How we hope them to be- How we picture them.
The powerful scrapbooks of our lives that exist in our heads.
When we will be married.
How many kids we will have.
Where we will live.
How much money we will make.
What our jobs will be.
What our houses will look like.
How our husband will treat us.
The places we will travel.
Who our friends will be.
How our kids will behave.
How close our grandkids should live.
When we will retire.
What our ministries will be like.
At some point we realize life doesn't work that way. We can't control the actual scrapbooks- the ones reflecting the past rather than the future. But we still long to try. We long to try to control our lives and to build the picture of the life we want.
And to let go? The idea that we would actually hand it over to God and say- go. Build it. Whatever you want with mine.... it is terrifying.
What if God has....
Singleness
Struggle
Adoption
A difficult husband
Infertility
Moving from the town we love
An apartment instead of a house
Cancer
Disapproval
Death
Overseas Missions
Financial Hardship
as part of my story? What if He let me suffer? What if He asked me to sacrifice? What if none of my dreams come true?
The very thought of praying anything.... demands everything. We have to face our fears... if we believe God is real, if we believe He has an eternal heart, we have to face the fact that our temporary comfort and scrapbook may be messed with by a God like that.
Acts 17 says that God determined the times set for each person on earth and the exact places where they should live. Isn't that absolutely mind blowing? Nothing about our lives is by accident. And in Galatians Paul writes that before time God planned the good works we would do in our lives.
Our stories are already written by God...
are we living them?
I wasn't. My plans for my life included God and ministry but I was writing my story and when anything too uncomfortable pressed in I got nervous. For years I pushed away nudges about adoption, about writing, teaching. I wasn't going to do things that threatened the picture of the life I thought I was supposed to have until it occurred to me that perhaps I am missing the very best parts and perhaps I care more about this short life than the one that will last forever.
I know I'm not alone. I know so many of us are living stuck and afraid, instead of remembering there is more.
What are you missing because you are afraid?
If I weren't afraid I would ____________.
Life is short! We have to live the stories God has written for us.
GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment answering this question to enter for a chance to win a copy of Anything or post a photo of your story here.
****
Subscribe to Jennie's blog and follow her on Twitter or Facebook.
:angel:
Splashing joy
Jun 12, 2012 01:15 am | Robin Dance
Funny how you have little control over what you'll remember decades down the road....
I was a 20-something, single and living in Atlanta, attending a bible study at Mount Paren Church led by a guy who flew in from Alabama. I was critical of that, the flyin' in part couldn't they find someone local?–I used to judge much more harshly when I "knew" so much more–but his talks were challenging and inspiring, and I was more hungry and eager than proud and unteachable.
His name escapes me now, but the unforgettable story he told about Miss Sophia* has lingered for 25 years. Actually, it's not even the entire story, it was the beautiful way he characterized her–
Miss Sophia was a "natural Christian, the kind where Jesus just seeps from her pores."
Everything about Miss Sophia was consistent with the faith she professed: her service and kindness to others, her wise counsel, her countenance. Even if you weren't a believer, he told us, you'd know there was something different about Miss Sophia. She understood how deeply she was loved by Christ and it seeded her desire for everybody she met to know that love.
But she didn't preach it, she lived it, so intimate a relationship with God she couldn't not share it in everyday conversation.
Right then I longed to be known like that one day.
Maddie, best friend to and one of the authors of my daughter's Closet Epistle, reminded me of Miss Sophia the other day. She was mountain top-glowing having just returned from a mission trip to Haiti.
"I know, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this will be a part of the rest of my life!" Maddie tells me, excited and brimming. She splashes joy everywhere. I'm soaking.
I hand her the graduation gift from our family and she slips a finger through a gap in the wrapping, sliding it along the taped seam and keeping the conversation going. At the last minute I included one of DaySpring's darling totes and when Maddie sees it, reads it, she declares, "It's another confirmation! All week long the theme of 'trusting God' keeps coming up, and here it is again!"
Her graduation gift is a sign from God, a reminder to trust. Whoa!
Maddie may be young but she's well on her way to becoming a natural Christian like Miss Sophia. I have no doubt she'll eagerly welcome the conversation when someone asks her what her tote means.
Wearing your faith for others to see doesn't have to be showy or brash; subtle, inviting and natural...it's the most beautiful thing you can put on.
I can't wait to read your review posts if you signed up for one this month! It wouldn't surprise me if our stories are very similar. Link your post below and be sure to visit a friend or two ~ and leave a comment! ~ a lovely way to encourage our community.
:angel:
It Was On A Tuesday
Jun 12, 2012 01:10 am | Kayla Aimee
It was on a Tuesday, the 85th day, that I walked through the glass doors to hear the alarm flashing, to see the doctors and nurses working frantically over her body as she went limp and gray. Lifted up and carried out, flailing against the arms of the strangers removing me from the scene, I didn't realize I was screaming until they gently told me to stop.
It was on a Tuesday that I discovered the whole of my relationship with the Lord could be condensed down to a thin, flat red line pulsing across a small black screen.
For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son...
Nine months prior I had stared down at a positive pregnancy test and whispered an age old prayer of thanks. I was Hannah, grieved in my infertility and rejoicing at the long awaited promise of a child.
You count your pregnancy by weeks and I was at twenty five when the doctor laid her hand on my shoulder. "We're taking the baby" she said. I breathed deep of the oxygen mask, gripping hard to the cold hospital bed rail and the place where not seeing becomes believing as they cut my daughter from me.
Everything changed.
And in that moment the once indefinable weight of glory was spelled out across the scale they laid her bare on.
One pound, eight point six ounces.
156 days in the neonatal intensive care unit.
People often ask me how my faith was tested during that time. "Not tested," I answer.
Stripped.
I had thought myself knowledgeable. Former Vice President of the FCA, answers were what I had. I studied the Bible. I knew stuff. And around my heart I amassed a collection of religious tokens that began to cast a shadow over the genuinely important.
In my most desolate of moments everything else I had wrapped around my faith fell away and left exposed the single most defining truth: He is who He says He is.
In a fit of incompatible emotions I both raged at Him and begged Him to heal her here on this earth. Either way I would be forever changed, marked by this shift where my faith became intangible. That was where I was that Tuesday, with my face pressed against the glass, suspended between hope and desperation and clinging to the same answer regardless of the outcome:
Jesus Is Lord
Scarlette purses her lips when she is concentrating on something, her brow furrows as she gingerly flips the cardboard page of a rhyming book. "God loves you more than the deepest sea..." I read to her. She is curious about my tears, tracing the path they've made down my cheek with her finger. "Mommy is crying because she's happy" I tell her. She's not even two so I can't explain to her that these simple rhyming words in her favorite book are just a portion of the mercies that are new every morning.
One day I'll give her a bigger book with a soft, leather cover and tell her it's a love story.
The truth is, I did nothing. I didn't live well or believe well or stay strong in my faith. I laid with my face on the floor in the darkness and just let the small, inextinguishable flame of truth do what it is meant for. No one will write my name in history books as a woman of great faith nor will I pen studies giving guidance on overcoming adversity. They'll simply reference an ancient text and see where in one life, it was true:
For where I am weak, He is strong
Written by Kayla Aimee of Only Slighty Neurotic
:angel:
Father's Day Tradition Ideas
Jun 12, 2012 12:05 am | Jennifer Schmidt
My heart warmed when I snapped this picture.
Dressed up and all ready for their special daddy daughter date night, our girls spent time with a devoted father. A daddy whose desire to cherish his princess daughters, and model just how a man should treat a lady is at the forefront of their time together.
This is a powerful example of the lasting affect a loving, caring father has on the life of his daughter - a foundation of strength, value and confidence.
Yet I understand that the absence of that legacy can have an equally powerful affect. A legacy of insecurity, fear or worse, all of which are difficult to overcome.
Father's Day comes with such a myriad of emotions.
With this holiday just around the corner, may we pray specifically for the men in our life?
I pray for our husbands, that they would lead our next generation of sons and daughters, and that we, as their wives, would lift them up, encourage them, and support them in this calling to build a generational legacy for our children, and our children's children.
That's an overwhelming responsibility, yet there's no better time to encourage the Dads and grandfathers in our lives than this Sunday.
Father's Day is meant to be a celebration of thanks to our dads, but often we fall into a typical "card and clothes" present rut. Why not tap into the power of the five love languages, and speak love to him in ways that matter most.
In our hustle and bustle of every day life, people rarely take the time to write down encouraging words, and yet for many men, the need for affirmation through this love language is crucial.
The written word feeds the soul, and on those days when dad has had a discouraging day at work, he can grab these " I love you" cards and be reminded of what really matters.
Read more about how we implement a creative tradition idea by hiding these cards, as well as print them here: "I love My Dad Because..." printable.
Show your dad just how special he is by giving him the gift that keeps on giving. This Father's Day Coupon Book is filled with ways to make his day extra meaningful. This speaks to those dads whose love language is best communicated through Acts of Service.
Most of us don't have time to scrapbook, but a great way to let Dad know how much we love him is to create an ABC book. This is a perfect activity to do with children learning their ABC's, but I did it with older children, and it was so special. We used a Dollar Store album and collaborated on 26 quick pages.
We thought of character traits, inside jokes, and activities we loved to do with Dad, as well as bible verses that we interspersed through out the album. Each item corresponded with a different letter of the alphabet. We let go of perfection, and didn't try to create the next Mona Lisa. For instance, the Letter P "page" might have GO Packers, Patient Father, Penny Pincher, Peaceful, and Predictable, while the Letter "J" might have a silly joke that Dad always tells (a groaner). This might seem too involved for a last minute gift, but we completed ours in only two hours and not only was it a blast for the kids, but Dad loved reading over every page.
Laughter is good medicine, and we all need to laugh more.
On Father's Day, plan a joke telling party with the kids. This belly laugh picture came from a spontaneous evening where our family read jokes out loud to each other. I am sure they weren't that funny, but when one person got going, we just couldn't stop. I know the Lord must love seeing His children embrace life like that, but unfortunately, we don't do it enough.
If you don't have a good repertoire of jokes, feel free to use some of my conversation starter questions.
Traditionally, we begin our Father's Day morning with breakfast served in bed.
Why don't we take it up a notch and declare Dad "King for the Day". The dads in our lives deserve no less than the royal treatment for this Father's Day. Give him a present he'll never forget. Remember that this can be as easy or elaborate as you want to make it based on your dad's personality and preferences.
Since Dad has been King all day, he'll enjoy ending his evening with this adorable Papa Pizza and Father's Day Cake.
This cake is not about the food or a recipe. It's about sharing special words of blessing over Dad at the end of the day in such a simple, yet meaningful, manner. A few days before Father's Day, gather pictures of Dad at all ages.
Have your children or guests write words of affirmation or favorite bible verses on the backs of the pictures. Take turn reading these out loud, and honoring dad over dessert. (More specific directions here.)
Hopefully, some of these simple tradition ideas sparked your creative juices. The most meaningful gifts are often those that money can't buy.
Are there special ways that you celebrate Father's Day?
I'd love to hear your plans for this Sunday.
(Ideas shared by Jen from Balancing Beauty and Bedlam. One mom, who is just trying to keep her head above water today.)
:angel: :angel:
The Three Things Wife
Jun 19, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
When I first got married I was determined to figure out how to do this "wife" thing well. Desperate to be a good wife, I made note of what 'good wives' did.
* She cooks meatloaf.
* She vacuums every day so there are lines in the carpet indicating its cleanliness.
* She sticks love notes in his brief case.
* She buys and wears lingerie.
* She likes wearing lingerie and wears it three times a week.
* She gives him his space when he gets home.
* She hangs up the phone when he walks in the door.
* She learns facts about football and watches games with him.
* She prays for him everyday.
And the list grew and grew.
Eventually, the list in my head of what a good wife does, so completely overwhelmed me I cried. I felt inadequate. I started to shut down.
I assumed the list in my head was in my husband's head too.
I grew bitter. And in a moment of complete exhaustion, I yelled, "Your expectations are ridiculous!"
To which he replied, "What expectations?"
"The list... the list of hundreds of things I need to do to be a good wife," I sobbed through the snot and the tears.
His blank stare dumbfounded me. He had no such list.
I had so broadened my scope of things to do, I had diminished my vision of simply loving him.
Do less. Be more.
"Honey," I said feeling the entanglements of expectations loosening their grip on me, "I can't do everything good wives seem to do. But I can do three things. So, tell me your top three things and I will do those well."
After all, I could spend a whole marriage doing a hundred things half-way with a bitter attitude and an overwhelmed spirit.
Or, I could do 3 things whole-heartedly with a smile on my face and love in my heart.
His 3 things were simple... Be an emotionally and spiritually invested mom with our kids, take good care of your body and soul, and keep the house tidy. (Notice it says tidy- not perfectly clean.) That's it.
He could care less about home cooked meals. He is fine with me hiring someone else to vacuum lines into the carpet. And he's totally okay if I watch 48 hours mystery while on a different TV he watches the man cub events.
Now, he didn't say anything about lingerie. But, he could argue that it is a subplot of me taking good care of my body. The problem is I'm much more of a sweatpants kind of girl. Yes, Victoria has a little secret and I haven't a clue what it is.
But that's a topic for another day entirely.
For today, I've narrowed my scope to three things which has broadened my vision for a great marriage.
I am a three things wife. It's simple. But simple is good.
By Lysa TerKeurst
/
Unforgiven
Jun 19, 2012 01:10 am | Elisabeth Corcoran
"I just can't forgive myself."
I have heard this said by women who have done horrible things, things they completely regret, things that haunt them, things that they just can't seem to let go of and move on from.
And I totally get this. I have huge regrets in my life. A ton of choices that I would give anything to be able to go back and redo. I'm confident that with my wisdom, gained afterwards, I'd choose differently.
But there is no going back. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I no longer believe in Plan B. So I obsess over the wrong choice or the sin and I kick myself and wonder what if and carry the guilt and shame around with me as if it's tethered to my back.
So I totally get the concept of 'not being able to forgive oneself', but I don't believe in it. I don't believe the words are right.
I believe wholeheartedly that when someone claims that she cannot forgive herself – over her divorce or her affair or her abortion or staying too long in an abusive situation or what-have-you – that what she really means is she cannot truly believe that God has forgiven her or is even able to. That what she has done has fallen just outside the boundaries of the grace of God.
We don't want to word it this way though because we know how that sounds. It sounds like we're saying we don't believe the Word of God is true when it says that we will be forgiven of all unrighteousness (I John 1:9). It sounds like we're saying that God therefore is a liar. It sounds like we're saying that what Jesus did on the cross was all good and fine, and that he died for the sins of the world, and that his death conquered and killed sin, just not ours. Our sin was too bad. And we don't want to sound like this is what we're saying.
But if I have done something really awful, and I am sincerely sorrowful over it, and I have asked Christ to forgive me, I am forgiven.
There is nothing else to add to the equation. Self-flogging is not part of the deal. God didn't say that he'd send Christ to die for us and we also need to beat ourselves up for a little while/a few years/the rest of our lives and then we'll be forgiven. Nope, it's just the Jesus part.
And there's nothing that falls just outside of what was nailed to the cross. God isn't up there thinking, "Oh crud, she did that?! Because I didn't make provisions for that...now what am I going to do with her? I guess she'll just have to live with the guilt." Uh-uh, all of sin was taken out. All of your sin was covered over. Even that really, really bad thing you did.
So, you've got a secret? Are you carrying around guilt? There's really only one thing to do. Go to God about it. Ask him once and for all to forgive you, but then ask him to help you experience the forgiveness, to feel the forgiveness, to choose to know it to be true even when you don't feel it. And then, sweet girl, walk in it.
Jesus straightened up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
"No one, sir," she said.
"Then neither do I condemn you," Jesus declared. "Go now and leave your life of sin."
John 8:10-11
By: Elisabeth Corcoran
:angel: :angel:
When You Carry Your Father's Wounds
Jun 21, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Some of us grow up — or end up — soaking up the wounds of those we love. We may have found the inner strength in those moments to carry ourselves through. But, there will come a time to remember. There will come a time to heal.
I was standing in the toy store aisle.
Frozen.
I didn't know what to do.
It was going to be our last visit together, after my parent's divorce. But, I didn't know it at the time. I was a little girl.
My father wanted to buy me a toy. But, my mother didn't want me to return home with one. I wasn't supposed to take anything from him.
So, I told him I didn't want anything. I was okay.
But, I wasn't.
Frozen
It's funny how the most terrible memories of the past can smooth out over the years to simply become a story you tell yourself. It's a familiar scene that unrolls every now and then. What he said. What I said. How the floor of the store shimmered under the gloss of florescent lights. How happy my little sister was, picking toys off the shelf, like she won the lottery.
But, I never realized all the emotions I felt at that moment could be frozen inside me. I am learning that some of the stories that I've merely viewed as childhood memories are still live events — behind the steel trap door of my heart.
No, I haven't buried them.
No, I haven't forgotten about them.
I've simply moved past them.
By being strong.
By surviving.
By growing up.
By depending on God — in the sincerity of my heart — to move myself further away from the little girl in me. Who was afraid. Who didn't know what to do.
But deep inside, that little girl is still there. Deep where I've never had any need for fear, confusion or neediness, there is a part of me who very much alive: the girl in me who carries my father's wounds.
You can't see that part of me looking on the outside.
I certainly didn't.
Until recently.
The Right Thing
I started remembering — the look in my father's eyes.
"Daddy can't be with you anymore..." His voice stumbles. His head drops. I notice how straight his hair is parted to the side, as he crouches low.
I start to feel very nervous. It doesn't feel right somehow. Him. So low. So close. Too low. Too close.
"Daddy just... wants... to..." He starts to choke back tears. Swallows hard. Looks straight into my eyes. I see pain.
He struggles to finish his sentence. Tries again. "Daddy... just... wants to... buy you a toy."
I can't tell you exactly what was running through my mind.
But, I know how I feel right then and there. Thickness fills my little body from the top of my head down, dropping down through the beating heart in my chest, to the bottom of my feet.
I feel trapped.
I don't know what is the right thing to do anymore.
I am afraid.
What should I do? What will happen if I did one thing — or the other?
Who will happen to him? What will happen to her?
What will happen to me?
Wounds
As I stood there at the checkout register, with my father pulling out paper bills from the wad of cash he kept in his pocket, I felt frozen again. Fearful for what would happen after my ride home in his olive green Nova with the peeling roof.
I didn't want him to pay for our new toys with his hard-earned cash.
But, as he placed the plastic bag of toys into my hands and tried to reassure me, "It's gonna be okay... It's gonna be okay...", I knew it wasn't going to be that way at all.
I am learning that day I took that plastic bag was also the day I began to carry my father's wounds in my heart. These weren't wounds he inflicted on me. They were ones I saw opening up in him.
These were wounds I tried to avoid by taking that toy back home with me.
These were wounds I wanted to soak up in me by my doing the right thing.
Things didn't turn out okay that day.
Even though I tried to do the right thing.
Stay Here
As I walked through this memory, with Jesus in the picture now as a grown up, I discovered a heart-altering realization.
I know, Bonnie. Jesus whispers.
I know this wound, Bonnie.
What do you want me to do? I ask Jesus.
You don't have to do anything.
But, what do you want me to do? I ask again.
Stay. Here. With me.
Please. Do s-o-m-e-t-h-i-n-g about this. I'm begging. I'm desperate to do something.
Tell me to do something about this feeling of restless helplessness. I want it to go away.
Let me. Stay here. With you.
"Why can't I just let old wounds die?" I cry out.
Because they don't.
Wounds don't die.
But, wounds can healed — if we make the choice — to face them with Jesus.
Our tender Jesus is never closer than that very moment our wounds become alive.
His love for our private feelings of helplessness and shame never surge deeper — as He holds us with deep compassion, heart aching and hating every moment of our pain.
Jesus hasn't forgotten our wounding.
Jesus hasn't stopped loving us since.
Running Into Her
I don't know if this story I'm sharing reads like a foreign tale from a land you've never visited. There's a part of me that feels that I'm the only one. But, if perchance you find yourself like me — running into that little girl in you who is feeling –
helpless,
restless,
trapped,
disoriented,
between the right thing to do — and the reality of an overwhelming difficulty, painful relationship or heartbreaking loss –
I want you to know that I am right alongside you — treading this water of perplexing circumstances that have placed you in front of your wounded self.
I am reaching out to you today, with a smile and many tears. To say Jesus is next to you. He is next to me.
And I want to encourage you.
I once believed the evidence of faith was having hope when the burden of carrying pain crushes our souls.
But, I'm discovering faith is equally flowing — maybe even more so — when we can fall into the arms of Jesus when we do feel hopeless – in order to know that the little girl in us can be safe and will be rescued.
For sure, this is path of faith and healing is hard and long. Especially for someone like me who has been so good at being adequate or at least, having plans in place to avoid otherwise.
Free to Remember
Is this such a time for you as well? Maybe like me, you find yourself unable to forget.
Maybe like me, Jesus doesn't want you to forget.
Jesus wants us to be free to remember –
the wounds we have carried,
the wounds we have survived,
the wounds we have kept hidden.
We can be free to remember, so that we can be comforted. And to comfort each other.
He wants to say to you and me –
I know what you've carried.
I've loved you completely.
Even back then.
I haven't forgotten.
You can be with me.
This way.
Now.
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."
~ God, Isaiah 49:1, 6, 15
~~~~~
Where are you with God on the journey of healing?
Let's whisper prayers for each other as those who can, share below.
Share a bit of your story? Click here to comment. I'm truly grateful for your voice here.
(Psst... Friends, I want to say a heartfelt thank you to each of you for sharing your tender stories of faith through pain on my (in)courage post last month as you posted comments. You're all so courageous. You have encouraged me so much on my journey of faith. )
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
I am on a journey.
That's what I've been telling myself, as I struggle through a new season of parenting. I have teenage boys. This is a challenge.
I am on a journey, and I'm getting closer to where I'm supposed to be.
The where is actually who — who God created me to be. It's interesting to me that the challenge of being a mother, of helping our children be the people God created them to be, well it actually affords us the same opportunity.
I have five sons (and one little girl at the tail end!). These children of mine (but I won't lie, these days it's mostly the boys) can really give me a run for my money. They are growing and maturing and having those hormone surges that send us all on a wild ride.
"This," I will somedays tell the Lord, "is not what I thought motherhood would look like."
Who I thought I would be as a mother involved a lot more twirling and dancing.
The reality of motherhood often looks nothing like that.
Motherhood is certainly magical and beautiful. It's filled with growth and joy and every good thing. But it's also a lot of hard work, usually brought on by circumstances we never saw coming.
For me, I never imagined I would have five boys in a row. Motherhood for me involves dealing with a pack of boys, all the time. I didn't really plan on that.
On the most challenging of days, I will question the Lord's wisdom. I never doubt his love for me, but I sometimes doubt his attention to detail. Didn't God notice that I am a weakling, that I am not strong enough to get this job done.
"Didn't you realize," I will cry out, "that I don't have what it takes."
In these dark moments — maybe they're moments, maybe they're longer — I am so focused on the task before me that I lose sight of the big picture. I get so frustrated with this boy and this attitude that I forget it's all just a step on the journey.
But that's what I need to remember.
I am on a journey.
I'm training these children, my husband and I are guiding them because while they are exactly who God made them to be, they are not the finished product yet. I get frustrated by the challenges because I see them as my own failures. But they are challenges, and reminders that my work here is not done.
In the end, I have to go back to the Love of God, to his tremendous love for these children of mine. He loves my boys more than I ever could.
And he loves me more than I could ever love myself. He loves me so much that he knew exactly what he was doing when he sent all these boys my way.
He knows that I can rise to this challenge. All I have to do is remember to ask him for help. Because I, too, am not yet finished. Part of the journey I'm on, as I move towards becoming who God wants me to be, is loving my sons in the midst of all these challenges.
God uses circumstances to help us be the person we can be, the person he wants us to be. He loves us just as we are, of course, but he also uses the details of our life to grow in strength and wisdom and holiness.
We are on a journey.
We are on a journey.
Visit Rachel's journey of blissful insanity at Testosterhome.
:angel: :angel:
I Want to Be Best Friends With My Daughter
Jun 23, 2012 01:00 am | Sarah Mae
"Mommy, pleeeease let me stay in bed with you?"
It was past 10pm and she needed to get into her own bed, it was already so late. But those eyes and that smile and these moments, I want to live in them because I know they'll go before I know it.
Besides, she was wide awake.
"Okay, come on, get in."
We snuggle and giggle; she's a ham and she makes me laugh out loud. We talk and pray, and I hold her soft, little hand. She tells me the best parts of her day, and the worst parts. I listen. She asks me questions about life and God. She's a thinker, and I love it. I love discussing faith with her, and I love how she challenges me (I'm pretty sure children ask harder questions than atheists). I'm so glad I let her stay with me.
I love watching my six year old daughter become.
As she is growing into a young lady, I realize how much I like her and want to really know her and be friends with her. I used to think that parents weren't supposed to be friends with their children.
"You are not your child's friend, you are their parent."
I reject that sentiment now, fully and completely. I am my child's parent, and I'm also trying to be her friend. I'm trying to cultivate our relationship now by accepting her, showing her grace, teaching her, loving her well, listening to her, taking her seriously, being honest with her, and respecting her. My "job" as a parent is to help her to live well in this world, to love God and to love others. And isn't it the same as a friend? To share and laugh and learn from each other as we figure out life together? As we go through the ups and downs of everyday, together? As we learn to love and forgive and lean into the Creator, together?
I think my daughter is fascinating, and even though parts of my heart hurt seeing her grow up so fast, it's also a joy coming into a real friendship with her.
And you know what? I'm not just aiming for friend, I'm aiming for best friend. That might seem crazy, and maybe it is, but I don't care. I'm going for it.
"Don't you see that children are God's best gift? the fruit of the womb his generous legacy? Like a warrior's fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth. Oh, how blessed are you parents, with your quivers full of children!" Psalm 127:3,4 (The Message)
By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture: Wonderfully Made
Jun 24, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth
Exactly one week ago today, we moved into our new home in yet another state. My husband and I don't have jobs that allow us to take much time off of work ... and we have two kids ... and we work from home ... and those kids are out of school for the summer. Yep. We have not unpacked yet. Not even close.
But the room I am most excited about decorating is my daughter's. I plan to surprise her by hanging the canvas pictured above in her new room.
Yes, it's a pretty picture, but I am hanging it because I want her to learn the truth that is plastered on that bright canvas.
I want the last words she sees at night and the first that she sees in the morning to affirm that she is God's girl. That she is wonderfully made.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made
Psalm 139: 13-14.
And that truth? It applies to grown up girls too, you know.
:angel:
Learning to Tell Your Summertime Stories
Jun 25, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
Dad is putting up a fence in the backyard. It's summertime and I'm seven. He leaves a space at the tree so we can still cut through to Missy and Shelly's. They have a tire swing and a basement. They get the channel with Fraggle Rock and their mom buys pop in cans, packs of six. I secretly think they might be rich.
I sit at the table at Grandma's house. It's summertime and I'm nine. She has a poodle named Frolics and she paints his toenails red. Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers sing Islands in the Stream from the record player in the living room. I will love that song forever. I have every reason to believe that Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers are married. My Grandma talks about Kenny Rogers as if she wants to marry him. Grandpa walks in from the yard and pulls out a roll of cash money, hands me a dollar and pats my head.
We eat sweet rolls and candy cigarettes.
The girl from next door and I ride fast through the quiet neighborhood, feet on pedals, hearts on sleeves. It's summertime and I'm eleven. We've only lived here in Iowa a short time but I've made fast friends. This town has bike paths. Miles of them. I have found a freedom I didn't know existed as we ride those paths beside the creek, beneath the bridges, fast around corners. I think this must be what it feels like to drive a car.
Henry Griffin grew eight inches last spring and now is the cutest boy in tenth grade. It's summertime and I'm sixteen. We're at a pool party, standing in a circle. He looks down at my bare feet and asks if there's something wrong with my toes. There isn't. But now there is something wrong with me, forever. I've never liked my feet and now the worst kind of someone has agreed with me. I avoid bare feet for the rest of the summer as much as is humanly possible.
This is my 35th summer (36th if you want to get technical). The summer snapshots are endless. The memories shape us, for better or worse. The stories are told and re-told — if not in words, then in our choices, our insecurites, our loves and our aversions.
It's why I sometimes still hesitate when I put on flip-flops, why Dolly Parton sounds like home, why it feels extravagant to drink Coke from a can.
It's important for me to write down the memories. Even if it seems insignificant or small, usually those are the ones that lead to a sentence in the story that perhaps didn't make sense before. Remembering our stories helps us to value our life, to practice kindness towards ourselves, to respect our own stories and the stories of those around us.
What is a summer memory that has shaped you?
:angel:
Tips for Planning a Fabulous {4th of July} Party
Jun 25, 2012 01:15 am | Mary Carver
I've always thought that the Fourth of July is perfectly timed. Halfway between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the patriotic day comes just in time to keep us from going too crazy in the long, hot days of summer.
I know, I know, we celebrate on the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and it just happens to fall in the exact middle of summer. But, really, who isn't ready for a break when July rolls around every year? You're telling me it's a coincidence that our forefathers decided to wrap things up and get on with founding our country?
All joking aside, Independence Day is a great time to take a break from your routine and enjoy time with friends and family. In other words, it's party time!
A party celebrating the 4th of July doesn't have to be a huge blowout [no fireworks pun intended]. But whether you're planning a small gathering with a few friends or a big bash for everyone you've ever met, a few simple tips can help you plan a fabulous party without losing your mind.
This week, I'm going to help you get ready for the best Fourth of July party ever. I'll share a few tips I've learned in my years planning events both professionally and personally, and leave you with lots of things to consider to make your party great. Much of what I'm sharing here can be found in my ebook, Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind}.
Pick a Comfortable Venue
Choosing where to hold your Fourth of July party may seem like the easiest step of your planning, but don't assume that your backyard is the only answer.
First of all, consider whether you are personally comfortable hosting a party at your home. If not, don't force it! Ask a friend, neighbor or family member to help you throw the party at their house. Hold it at a local park or the community room of your apartment building. Or plan a tailgate party at your community's fireworks show.
Of course hosting a party at home has its advantages, including easy access to your own kitchen and the ability to set-up and clean-up as slowly as you want. And having the party at your house often frees up your budget for more food, decorations or other fun party supplies.
Another few things to keep in mind when picking the place for your party are size (how many people are likely to show up and how much room do they need to enjoy themselves?), location (is it easy for people to get to your party, and if not, can you give them excellent directions?), and weather (if you plan for an outside party, what will you do if it rains?).
Feed Your Guests Well
I've heard rumors that you can plan a party without food – or, at least, without a focus on food. If that works for you and your guests, more power to you. But in my world, food plays an important part of every gathering.
When you're planning the food for any party, you'll need to answer three questions:
1. How much food will you serve?
2. What kind of food will you serve?
3. How will you serve the food?
How much food you need depends partly on how many guests will attend, but it also depends on if they're bringing food of their own. A lot of Fourth of July parties are some form of a potluck dinner, which is a great way to save time and money and get your guests involved in the party. Don't just assume the meal with come together, though. If you're providing meat and drink and asking your guests to bring sides and desserts, you might consider asking guests to sign up for specific dishes.
One more thing to keep in mind about party food is how long people will be at the party. Because many parties on the 4th start in the afternoon and go on past dark, you might need more food than you would for a simple dinner party or weekend barbecue.
Kick Your Theme Up a Notch
Integrating a theme is my favorite part of planning a party, and it's so easy to do with a party like this one. You don't have to come up with a theme for a Fourth of July party; it's already there in the holiday itself. Even if you don't love planning parties and want to keep it simple, showing your patriotism with a few bursts of red, white and blue can pull your party together visually and turn a little shindig in the backyard to a fabulous party.
A few ideas:
Serve festive foods like fruit flag kebabs or red, white and blue M&Ms
Play patriotic music in the background
Decorate the tables with Mason jars filled with red and white carnations and a small American flag, decorated with a blue ribbon
Whether you go all out with a vintage Americana theme for every aspect of your event or simply pick up some red, white and blue paper plates and balloons, taking advantage of your party's intrinsic theme at any level can be fun for you and your guests.
Now that you've figured out where to hold your party, what food to prepare and how to delight your guests with a strong theme, it's time to take a party planning break. Come back tomorrow for more tips on planning a fabulous Fourth of July party!
:angel:
Getting Home
Jun 26, 2012 01:20 am | Angie
Two nights ago, I was in a hotel room in North Carolina. I was there as a speaker with Women of Faith, and the day had gone pretty well. I say pretty well because I never think I really do as good of a job speaking as I would like to. I'm not fishing for compliments here, friends. Just being honest. I don't walk off the platform and pat myself on the back. I think about the four things that I meant to say but didn't and then I decide that all the women in the auditorium can't move past the fact that I didn't say the four things. Clearly, they don't know what those things were, but whatever. It all adds up in my head.
So anyway.
I had some work things to take care of when I got done, and it was late when I finally sat still, but when I did, something snapped in me. I sat on crisp white sheets and imagined what my kids might be doing. I pulled my phone out and mapquested how far I was from my house. 8 hours and 3 minutes. Too far to try and figure out a rental car and start a drive at 9 at night.
So I checked airlines to see if I could get home sooner. Then I called Delta and talked to them about it. It's a long story but the bottom line is they don't really care if you miss your kids. I figured out a solution and called Todd to ask if it was okay for me to book it. It was about $150 but would get me home at 10 am instead of 4 pm, and that six hours was worth it. He agreed and I called them back. In that time period, the price went up to $486. I asked her why. I told her I had just called within 15 minutes. She was very sweet but she didn't really have any solutions that didn't involve a debit card. We decided the best bet would be for me to wake up at 4 am and call to try and do a same-day change for $50.
It's a long story and I can already sense that this is rambly and would be the point in our coffee date where your phone rings and you make an excuse to run away from me. Don't run away from me. I'm trying to get to the point but it's just that it's all tangled in my head and (in)courage is my cheap counselor, so I'm just asking for some sisters here.
I wanted to go home.
I could imagine running in the door and them all clamoring over each other, abandoning their neighborhood friends and weeping at the mere sight of me. It had been almost 40 hours since they had last seen me, so these are all viable options.
Long story short, I got on the 7:15 am flight after forking over my fifty bucks. I pulled in my driveway and raced to the back door. Charlotte screamed, "MA-MAA!!!!" and ran to me. My sweet nanny was there and she was so excited because she knew I was desperate to get home. I asked where all the girls were and went to each one individually, awaiting my "6 hours early" party. The response was mediocre, I'll just say that. They did squeeze me and tell me they loved me, but I saw no evidence of long-term planning, such as posters, streamers, or other dollar spot paraphernalia. Nonetheless, I was so happy to be home and settled in quickly (translation: started laundry and told Charlotte to stop eating crayons).
I had a great day with them and soaked them in fully, but that night as I climbed into my own wrinkly bed instead of the crisp white hotel one, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world God was doing with me. How many lives can one person live well? Here's the bottom line.
We are ambassadors of God.
And what that means is that we will sleep on different sheets. We will cry because of the cost. And while we know it is a privilege, we will still ache for home.
The truth of the matter is, my children didn't throw me a party when I got home because they were at peace with my being gone. I know because I have asked them time and time again. It isn't that they didn't miss me, but rather because they have an intuitive sense that I'm showing Jesus to them in my obedience. They know I prefer the wrinkly sheets and the messy kisses to the stage and the plane.
They are steady in my love and gracious with my calling.
But they know. They know it wounds me.
Todd stopped by the bookstore on his way home from the airport (he flew in from Michigan a few hours after I got in) and bought all of his girls a little gift. Mine is a book of quotations by Mother Teresa, and just this morning I came across this beautiful quote:
"We have to love until it hurts. It is not enough to say, 'I love.' We must put that love into a living action. And how do we do that? By giving until it hurts."
Jesus Christ has asked no less of every single one of us. It will look different in your life than it does in mine, but the heart of the matter is the same. We must put our love into living action, and we should not expect anything else than a little hurt to come alongside. It is the least we can do to offer of ourselves, and a beautiful reminder that we should be grateful we can give it at all.
I won't expect streamers when I finally get home. I don't mind if there aren't any parades or fireworks.
I hardly think He will worry about those details.
When I wake in the middle of the night, may I remember that my time here is short and soon I will be home. And I pray He whispers those words to me. The words that remind me it is all for Him and the wounds are minor in the battle for eternity.
Well done, love.
Well done.
Wherever you are today, you have a choice. My prayer is that you put your love into living action, ever mindful of the God who calls you heavenward...
By: Angie Smith
:angel:
Hi Gorgeous
Jun 26, 2012 01:10 am | Paula Whidden
In my twenties, I owned a bird, a Senegal Parrot. I named him L.G., short for Little Geek. In retrospect, it was not a nice name.
Maybe I felt guilty, but over time a habit developed between the two of us. Each morning when I emerged from my bedroom into the small apartment living room, I said the same two words to him.
"Hi Cutie."
The store salesman which sold me L.G. explaine he wouldn't be a speaking bird, so I never tried to teach him to speak. And yet, one day it happened.
As I rose to make breakfast, I walked into the living room. Across the brown carpet, echoing from a black rot iron cage, I heard my small green and orange feathered friend say the same words to me.
"Hi Cutie."
At first, it startled me. He repeated it more and more until it became a daily ritual. Eventually, I welcomed it. These words brightened my day. No one had ever called me "cutie."
Years later, long after L.G. had departed this world, I met a wonderful man who claimed his love for me and promised to honor me throughout our lives. Following our marriage, he began a new habit.
He greeted me the same way, every day, all the time. He said, "Hi Gorgeous."
He had upped the ante. At first, I resisted the strength of these words. "I'm not gorgeous." I told myself. But he seemed to believe the words, so I humored him. That's all it was for the first few years, me choosing to let him think what he wanted.
Then, something happened.
I started believing the words, not in a huge-head sort of way. I believed God made me to be gorgeous, because God made all of us to be gorgeous.
This realization ignited a simple mission within my heart. I wanted to tell every woman, everywhere, the truth of this revelation.
You are gorgeous.
You are made in the image of God. He designed the intricacies of you.
Those things we compare with others, those things we overly self-examine. Large, small, short, tall, blond, red-head or purple streaked, you are gorgeous.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time." Ecclesiates 3:11a
As a mom of two daughters, God reaffirms this truth over and over within my life. While watching small munchkins practice gymnastics or synchronized swimming, I see the various shapes and shades of color represented.
Some excel easily and some struggle, but all those girls are gorgeous. With their brilliant smiles and contagious giggles, they each shine in their own unique way.
We women aren't different, just bigger. We also shine in our own unique ways.
If you meet me face to face one day, you'll probably hear me say it to you. Please know it's not an off-the-cuff euphemism. I'm not humoring you or forgetting your name.
I mean it every time I say it, because it's true. So, let me say it now.
"Hi Gorgeous."
If you believe these words are true, spread the love. Start a new habit to help other women believe the truth of God in their lives.
Who are some of the gorgeous people you know?
Paula Whidden, Faithful Choices
:angel:
10 More Tips for a Fabulous 4th of July Party
Jun 26, 2012 01:05 am | Mary Carver
Yesterday we covered a few basics for planning a fabulous party. A comfortable venue, well-fed guests and a top-notch party theme are three ways to ensure your event is one people enjoy and talk about [in the good way!] for a long time.
Today I'll share 10 more tips for planning your 4th of July party.
"Life is so constructed, that the event does not, cannot, will not, match the expectation."
- Charlotte Bronte
After 10 years in public relations – a twisty career path that has included coordinating press conferences, committee meetings, formal dinners and rowdy auctions – I've acquired a long list of to-dos and not-to-dos when it comes to planning successful events. But the fact is, your heart is way more important than any party prep to-do list. As a recovering perfectionist (and veteran "I'll plan the shower!" volunteer), I know that the best-laid plans and most meticulous event timeline won't mean squat if you walk into your event holding a bucket full of outrageous expectations and unprepared for real life.
These expectations – both yours and those of your guests – will determine the success of your party more than any other detail. You can serve the tastiest food and display the craftiest decorations, but if unreasonable or opposing expectations get in the way, your party could be a disappointment anyway. Recognizing the expectations surrounding your party is half the battle.
Now that we've got that out of the way, though, the other half of the party-planning battle IS in the details!
A few more things to keep in mind for your {fabulous} party:
Who's coming? People are terrible about RSVP-ing. So don't rely on replies to your invitation. Follow up with people you haven't heard from, and always plan for a few extras who decide to come at the last minute.
Food and more food. If your party is going to span several hours (as many 4th of July parties do), plan for more than one round of food. Don't put everything out at once. Hold some back for the later hours. If people are still going strong and showing no sign of heading home early, pulling out another tray of veggies or nachos will make them feel even more welcome and honored as your guests. They'll also appreciate a fresh bowl of potato salad that hasn't been sitting in the sun for four hours.
My name is... Inviting people who don't know each other? Consider having a table with name tags at the door. They could be festive stars and stripes labels or just plain "Hello, my name is _______" stickers. Either way, people will appreciate not having to memorize 15 new names and faces.
Game time! Another must for long parties (especially ones including guests who don't know each other well and/or children): entertainment. Stick a croquet set out in the yard or a dart board on the deck. Place trivia cards in all the seating areas. Set up a station with your iTunes so people can pick songs. (It's like a jukebox but so much cooler! Unless you think retro is cool. Then just get yourself an actual jukebox!)
Quench their thirst! Provide gallons and gallons of cold water. July is hot and your guests will be thirsty. Whatever you do, don't run out of water.
Getting out of the heat. Set up fans if possible, and try to have an indoor option for guests as well.
Prevention is key. Buy a few bottles of bug spray and sunscreen to have on hand. Maybe set them by the name tags at the door, so everyone knows they can help themselves!
Don't send them away empty-handed. Party favors are always nice, whether that means plastic takeout containers with leftovers, super crafty gifts you learn to make from Pinterest, or something in between. But sending people home with full hands is always a nice gesture.
Who's going to help you clean up? This is just about the least fun part of any event, so don't leave it to chance. Ask a friend or two to help or go ahead and plan to spend the next day picking up. Whatever your plan is, figure it out now so you can end your party the way you want – relaxed and stress-free!
These tips and dozens more can be found in my ebook, Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind}. It will help you plan your 4th of July party, as well as birthday parties, high school reunions, family holidays, baby showers and more. Even if the thought of planning or hosting a party normally makes you want to hide under the snack table!
:angel: :angel:
.
Our Hiding Place
Jun 27, 2012 01:20 am | Especially Heather
We all have had hard "things" in our lives. My "thing" is no greater or less than your "thing". My hurts are no greater or less than your hurts. Yet, what we do with those "things" and those "hurts" can define us here on earth.
When Mark and I were told about Emma before she was born, our decisions determined the path her life would take. When Mark and I found out that I had brain cancer, our decisions determined the path our families lives would take. When our family was told that Emma would not come home, our decision determined the path her body would take.
Yet the Lord's will never changed. He was not alarmed nor was He shaken by the paths that He already had planned for our little lives down here.
I had a really hard time with this after the decision was made to turn off the machines. I doubted myself. I doubted my love for Emma. But then a friend asked me one simple question: "Heather, when you turned them off, did she live?" It wasn't up to me whether she lived or died, God had numbered her days even before she was born. If it wasn't her time, she would have still been breathing after the machines stopped. It took me a long time to come to that realization and accept the fact that I did the best thing for my daughter.
God never lost control. He never lost his breath. He never shook his head and said "what now".
"We have been called according to His purpose." -Romans 8:28
Not our purpose. Not our wants or desires. Not our selfish plans.
His.
We are never outside of His plan for our lives. So when those hard questions come, and trust me they will come, remember that we are never given over to "random chance" by our Creator. He is conforming and molding us into His likeness. He is refining our hearts, and with refining there comes pain and suffering.
We see the back of the tapestry with all of the knots and strings... He is in the front making His masterpiece out of our lives. In Romans, Peter says "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us". God is going to reveal glory in His children. He is going to turn our mourning into gladness. He will wipe every tear from our eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.
When the storms come, and questions run rampant in your hearts, where will you hide? Will you hide in fear and hopelessness, doubting that that the one who holds the entire universe in the palm of his hand does not care about you; or will you take refuge in His sovereign plan for your life, hiding in His loving arms until the storm passes and you are able to stand up again.
You will have questions, you will have doubt, you will be angry.
It is what you do with those things that will determine your future stability and well being.
Where will you hide?
By: Heather, Especially Heather
:angel:
Frumps to Pumps – Who You Are
Jun 27, 2012 01:05 am | Sarah Mae
"For by a single offering He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified."
Hebrews 10:14 (ESV)
"The value of identity of course is that so often with it comes purpose."
Richard R. Grant
Before we even get started on this whole business of getting dressed, we need to step back and have a little chat about the importance of understanding who we are and who we are not. We need to understand our identity – that part of us that compels us to do and be in the every day. It's the thing that tells us who we really are and what makes us special or not-so-special. Knowing who you are, your identity, is crucial to living an authentic life that lends itself to the freedom to enjoy who you are.
If you know Jesus, I can tell you a thing or two about your identity.
Here's what I know for sure: I know that if you follow Jesus, then you are perfect, right now, for eternity.
Wild, right? Can you even fathom that? Perfect? That's what Jesus did for you, and it's a crazy mystery, especially seeing as we still sin. But yes, according to Hebrews 10:14, if you are being sanctified (being changed by God in preparation for heaven), you have been perfected for eternity.
This means that you don't have to get there. You are there (in Heaven's eyes). It means that you are not your sin. You are not the bad decision you made yesterday. You are not the stupid thing you said today.
You don't have to be beautiful or smart or funny or good enough; you just have to let God mold you as He sees fit to make you more like Jesus. Accept the molding. Don't strive or try harder; just offer yourself to Him daily. When you do this, when you let your identity be found in Him, you can live your life in freedom. You don't have to pretend or get affirmation from how you look or what kind of clothes you have. You know that you are loved and perfect for eternity, so just live!
And follow the One who made you beautiful. (Frumps or pumps, He loves you the same.)
:angel: :angel:...
The Best Read This Summer — Guaranteed
Jun 28, 2012 01:25 am | Ann Voskamp
You'd have thought I was reading The Dangerous Book for Boys or the like.
The way he kept grinning at me as I read, looking over his shoulder and arching that eyebrow all mischevious at his brother all smirking.
I think this as I read, that maybe this really is the original dangerous book for boys?
The book boys have been reading for the last millennia or two, the one that grabs a body by the shoulders and shakes the drowsy straight stock awake.
The one that binds the bloodied up and romances the lonely, that woos the rejected and cuts straight through to where the soul joins the bone.
A bona fide Dangerous book for everyone.
It's the same every day.
Everyday Malakai pleads for that book when we sit down for our daily read alouds. "Read the Bible first —- please?!"
He Bible begs.
I didn't do anything to make this happen.
I almost think I don't know how it happened at all. But I do.
I opened up the Living Word and let it wield its glint sharp edge. I opened up straight Scripture, a one year Bible, and let it breathe fire flame. I opened up the Bible for the Boy and he could feel the Danger.
This Word is no safe lion.
"You were reading about Joseph. And the brothers. Remember?" I look for my bookmark and he looks over my shoulder and I can feel the boy hunger for more.
We, the Word-God's poiemas, are our realest real, when eating His Words.
"Yessss... Right here..." I smooth the page out.
He breaks into grin anticipation. Littlest Sister, she curls into me, a tendril; Levi and Hope, they sit on the rockers, the young made wise with knitting needles and the books read aloud.
"When Jacob learned that there was grain in Egypt..."
I begin and I read of ten gaunt brothers caravaning across hot desert and of the knees bending fast before Pharoah's man and the lips kissing the cracked dirt at the ditched brother's feet. And these sons of mine break faces in mile-wide smiles at ancient brothers speaking incognito, at supposed strangers and the claim of spies and it reads like mystery, the best — for it breathes real.
And when famine gouges deeper into guts and the brothers' silhouettes slip again across sands, bow like sheaves before the brother masked Egyptian, Malakai's eyes blaze with story light.
And the child, he's made of words, breathed into being by words, breath of the Word, and when I read to him the Word, I breathe into him what he's made of and words pulse the veins and the child feels.
I reach for the bookmark.
"No — more! More!" The room erupts and they plead for more and I read.
Of the furtive steward with the secret silver chalice, and this is really the story, and Malakai, he writhes.
And I read slow of the stealth crawl of the servant to Benjamin's bag, and Malakai, he wrings hands, and I watch his face contort. I don't know if I should keep reading.
And when the house steward pants after those full stomachs bound home for Israel, accusations ready on the tongue, Malakai rises on knees, anxiety mounting in the west, and he presses his chest up against my shoulder and his eyes cling to me. Levi grins his knowing.
I read the words of the steward authoritative, "Whoever is found with the chalice will be my slave; the rest of you can go free." Malakai digs his fingers deep into my arm. He won't let me go. I can't look at him when the words on the page form, "And the cup was found in Benjamin's sack!"
A storm, he splits open over my shoulder and he rains down blackest grief and I am gully washed away.
He heaves with centuries of the brother pain.
He's crying for Benjamin and brothers and over real boys that have walked off the page and right into his skin.
My son's crying over the Bible.
Isn't this the Best Read ever? Why hadn't I thought of this years sooner, to read the Bible to my children not only during "devotions" but as a the greatest read aloud ever, the Greatest Story ever told, reading several chapters at a time? Till His story was all told in a year?
When had I had last wept over Words?
When had I lost my first Love?
I stroke his cheek with one hand, hold the Word in the other.
His own brother offers pain relief: "Kai— it's going to be okay," murmurs Levi, knitting needles stilled. Kai shudders hard.
"You want me to go on?" I whisper it soft.
His yes mangles in wail.
Yes. It's His story that wounds us and it's His story alone that heals us and sadness always needs more Story. The fullest comfort comes from the fullest story. And the fullest Story is the Father story and I stay in it because it's knowing the end of the Story that wipes away the tears.
I read it urgent, for I need to get to the hope: Judah entreats the younger Joseph for release of the youngest Benjamin. Malakai's still woe-wracked on my shoulder. Littlest Sister pats his hand.
And then there it is, what we've read pages and pages for, and I read it through his tears falling:
"Joseph could stand it no longer. There were many people in the room, and he said to his attendants, "Out, all of you!" So he was alone with his brothers when he told them who he was." Kai sniffles, brushes his cheeks.
I read on and the words barb in my throat and tear me a bit open... and the cement inside gives a way and I am alive. I weep with my son. This family, and these brothers, and this love, and our family and these brothers and our love and we are them long ago and they are us now and I am tears.
"Then he broke down and wept. He wept so loudly the Egyptians could hear him..." The Living Word animates in our living room thousands of years later and the story that undammed Joseph has undone us.
"I am Joseph!" he said to his brothers."
He is Joseph! I feel Kai's feeble smile before I see it, the way clouds break up and rays feel warm. I laugh through the ache! He is Joseph! Kai is Kai! God is God! We are well!
The Word has done it. The Word holds up a mirror and the Word peels back the mask and the words are who we are. We weep out of recognition. This story is us. This is the read that is deeply revelational. We see us.
When we pick up Scripture, we do not read, a verb; we become, a realization.
Becoming is the most Dangerous of all.
I slip in the bookmark. Kai's body rests against mine.
Tomorrow we will read more.
~ Written for you by Ann Voskamp
::
::
Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear...
Rev. 1:3
Q4U: What are you reading in Scripture these days? What's stopping you from reading Scripture? What keeps us from being hungrier for Scripture and His Word? Let's be real and encourage each other in the comments...
:angel:
Giving While Grieving
Jun 28, 2012 01:10 am | Roxann Morgan
Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. – 2 Corinthians 1:3-4
When I received the message I immediately started praying, it said that my friend's father had to be rushed to the hospital because he wasn't breathing.
How could this be?
Was there even a sign of this happening?
Wasn't he fine yesterday?
If I was this nervous and scared, how was she coping?
Then, what I dreaded was what I heard about an hour later, he had passed away. I prayed, but my hands were shaking and my heart was crushed, I felt broken, so I was sure that she found it even more unbearable.
I wept for my friend, and in part, for myself. Having lost my father almost 2 years ago, I relived every feeling of grief and heartache. I sobbed and begged God to comfort her as He comforted me. I'm sure the Holy Spirit was present in her time of sorrow, but He immediately reminded me of 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. The Lord wanted me to be of comfort to my friend. I experienced the loss, and also His healing and comfort in my time of grief, I was now able to pour into someone else.
I cannot deny that I was afraid to visit my friend, I wasn't sure what I had to offer her. She kept asking me to visit because she believed that I was the only one who could relate.
How could I help someone else when I was still grieving?
I felt as if my father had passed away all over again. I didn't want to break down and cause her more grief. But even if I did break down, the scriptures reminds us that even if we go out in our time of weeping to a sow seed of faith, we will return with songs of joy carrying a great reward. I'm paraphrasing Psalm 126:6.
The Holy Spirit is always present to help us to respond in a way that will bring about the Father's glory and His purposes. I prayed and asked the Lord to give me words of comfort, and if He wanted me to be there just to listen, that I would do that also.
I was bursting with joy just listening to my friend share her faith even in her time of sorrow. Just as my father's passing brought me closer to the Lord, and what I thought would have surely destroyed me, brought about a growth in faith and encouragement, I'm now seeing this in my friend. Her words brought me comfort, just as I sought to comfort her. The Lord was present and His faithfulness was once again proven. He wanted to bring healing to my heart while using me to bring healing and hope to someone else.
I'm happy I obeyed the Lord. It was frightening at first, but He has done great things. So, I encourage you today to draw close to the hurting and choose to pour into others the way you have been poured into. The Lord has showed me, yet again, that ministry does not require perfection but a heart willing and ready to share what He has given. This is why He created the body of believers. His grace is available to help us to meet the body the way He wants us to.
He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. – Psalm 126:6
By Roxann, In The Cool Of The Day
:angel: :angel:
Beautiful, Artful, YOU
Jun 28, 2012 01:05 am | Sarah Mae
"For You formed my inward parts; You wove me in my mother's womb. I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made..."
Psalm 139:13-14
"Fashions fade, style is eternal."
Yves Saint Laurent
You've got style.
In fact, your style was knitted by the God who weaved the universe. You are distinctly made, and your personality is as intricate and unique as your fingerprint. You are art.
Getting dressed is another way to adorn ourselves with beauty, the way God adorns the sunsets with the magnificent reds and oranges and purples – color amidst the light.
You are color!
You shine His glory and reflect His light that is in you. You are a rainbow.
Express yourself with dignity and honor and beauty. Find the art in your soul and let it shine in how you cover your skin.
Be creative. Have fun. Figure out your style. It doesn't have to cost a lot of money or time. But I want to see the fingerprint of you painted in what you wear, even if it's just in something small. Perhaps it's purple boots. Maybe it's a cute little barrette that you tuck gently in your hair. Maybe it's bunches of necklaces over a simple t-shirt.
Whatever it is, whoever you are, let that flag fly.
All for the glory of God.
"How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone."
Coco Chanel
Want to be inspired to get dressed every day, in more than just clothes, but in who you are? Check out Frumps to Pumps – Your one-month motivotional to getting dressed and staying that way.
Psst...don't forget that you can enter to win a copy of Frumps to Pumps! Enter here!
By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel: :angel: :angel:
What Are You Afraid Of?
Jun 29, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs
My roommate and I woke up this morning to that less-than-familiar sound of extremely tiny paws scurrying through the kitchen.
A mouse.
We never found him [assuming it is a him], but we cleaned up to the last minuscule crumbs that may have looked like a welcome mat. Roomie and I began talking about what we are afraid of, since, you know, this was probably the beginning of an invasion, not a random passer-by. She said, "I'm not really afraid of mice, but spiders and cockroaches are the worst. I can't even handle them."
I stood in the kitchen, sanitizing every.single.surface, thinking that through.
What am I afraid of?
As the oldest daughter in a family of daughters, being afraid of tiny crawly things just was never an option for me, so I'm not scared of bugs, slugs, or thugs. [Well, thugs are kinda scary.] There are other fears in my life, for sure, that don't have four legs. Or a tail.
. . . . .
I wanted to be a missionary to Scotland for 11 years. ELEVEN YEARS. Multiple times in my 20s, the opportunity to move there for a season or two to live kept coming up.
A mission training school.
A youth group internship.
A children's ministry position.
I always said no. Every time.
The timing wasn't every quite right, I never felt like it was God's best plan, but also, in the back of my head....
I was scared.
I was scared that moving to Scotland would mean I would never get married.
So I never did. I let an entire decade go by in hopes that choosing America meant choosing marriage. Now, I'm not saying that staying here was out of God's will- I know He did good things with my life in that decade, I just know that each time one of those opportunities was placed before me, that fear whispered to me.
When I turned 30, I sat with a few friends in rocking chairs on a front porch. I was talking about twirling and how much I expected of this next decade.
And I said, "I'm moving to Scotland."
A new opportunity came about [4 times the charm? Apparently.], and I knew this was my chance. The right chance. The right opportunity to say YES to God and NO to the fear.
I said no in my 20s. I let the fear of being alone, the fear of singleness, keep me from things. And I wasn't going to do that in my 30s.
"What if I look back in 10 years," I said to my friend Lyndsay, "and I'm still single AND I've said 'no' for another decade waiting for something that still hadn't come?"
That became my biggest fear: waiting for a marriage that I am not guaranteed, keeping me from doing good things that bring glory to God RIGHT NOW.
So I moved to Scotland for six months of 2011 and you know what? My life is SO much richer because of that experience. Saying YES to that open door, ignoring the fear, has made me a better human and someday, hopefully, a better wife.
. . . . .
I want to be careful here. I do NOT want you to hear me say that you should choose sinful behaviors or throw caution to the wind because you are tired of waiting on a husband. I don't want you to hear me say that if you are single, that you have "caused" that by being a missionary or anything of that nature. I don't know you or your choices.
I am merely making an observation from my own life and wondering if you've ever seen the same in yours.
Just think, just for a few minutes today, where are you letting fear, my singlet friend, make you say 'no' to God-honoring opportunities?
What are you afraid of?
:angel:
Your choice is in the bag
Jun 28, 2012 10:21 am | Robin Dance
When it comes to shopping, if I have too many choices I have a hard time making a decision. Comparing brands, variation in the product, ingredients, size and cost, sometimes I'll walk away without a product at all when information threatens to overload.
That's why I like the simplicity of "chocolate, vanilla or strawberry." Three choices are perfect (but is there really a decision to make in that scenario? Chocolate–booyah!).
The exception is people; building relationships and developing intimacy is never a one-size-fits-all proposition. Neither is sharing the gospel, is it? The gospel never changes but how we share it should be consistent with the relationship we have with the person to whom we're ministering.
That's why wearing your faith can be a wonderful conversation starter and opportunity door for telling others about Christ; if another person questions a piece of clothing or jewelry you have on, your answer will be proportional to your relationship. You wouldn't answer a a stranger in the grocery store check-out line the same way you'd answer your dentist who's been treating your family for years.
Speaking of lots of choices and having to make a decision, have I got a FUN challenge for you! Click over to DaySpring and look at the extensive line of totes; not only are there choices in material–oil cloth or jute–but the designs are so varied there are sure to be a few you call favorite.
And we have TEN to give away!
Simply choose the ONE you'd like to win, and ten random commenters will be selected to receive a tote! It's as simple as that. Winners will be announced on Monday! And also, through this weekend Totes are Buy 2 Get 1 Free. Perfect time to stock up on gifts!
(Giveaway open to US residents only).
By Robin Dance, author of PENSIEVE and appreciator of a few good choices.
:angel: :angel:
Keep the Romance Alive: The Love Basket
Jun 30, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
When I was newly married, one of my favorite books was called More Hours in My Day by Emilie Barnes. I learned so much about homemaking from that book! As a young wife it was wonderful to have such an encouraging and inspiring resource for setting up my own home and establishing healthy habits for my family.
Emilie shared a sweet idea for showing love to her husband called "The Love Basket." I know, it might seem a little bit sappy, but creativity in marriage is a surefire way to keep the sparks alive, right? We all tend to be a bit more sappy and sweet when we are dating, but can so easily forget that important element of romance later on in our marriages.
My husband and I have been married for 25 years so we know how easy it is to slip into the everyday routines and forget the importance of still being playful and fun!
So what is this Love Basket about?
Emilie shared in her book how she would pull out her picnic basket and fill it with special little things to show she cared. For instance, if her husband had a rough week at work, she'd fill the basket on Friday night with tasty things he would enjoy, like his favorite drink and maybe a special dessert. Then after the kids went to bed for the night, she'd surprise him by inviting him to join him for a little date!
The creative ideas and applications for a Love Basket are endless!
I think the Love Basket is a very fun way to create special dates on a budget. When my kids were very young we didn't have money for dates we'd have creative "at home date" after the kids went to bed. Start this Love Basket date tradition in the summer and carry it on all year round. You can use your basket for dates inside or outside, depending on the weather and the theme of your basket. I bet it will become a very special tradition in your home!
During the summer your Love Basket could be filled with favorite magazines, books, cold drinks and a blanket to sit on. Then you can invite your man out for a reading date at the park or if you don't have a sitter, take him out to the backyard while the kids play in the sandbox!
Or how about filling your Love Basket with favorite card games and fun coupons for prizes? Instant game night date for two on the living room floor! A movie themed Love Basket date would be fun too. Or if you really want to make your man smile, how about a romantic Love Basket date? {blush} I'll leave the ideas for that one up to your imagination.
The fourth of July isn't the only day of the year for fireworks, you can create a lasting spark in your marriage and build fun memories into your relationship with a Love Basket!
What other date ideas do you have for a Love Basket?
How about using a Love Basket to show you care about your kids and friends too?
This adorable picnic basket (i.e. the perfect Love Basket!) and sweet chalkboard for your love notes is available from the Redeemed Collection at DaySpring! You can see the Picnic Basket here and the Chalkboard here. And today is the last day to enter a giveaway for both items at The Inspired Room!
:angel:
When You Carry Your Father's Wounds
I was standing in the toy store aisle.
Frozen.
I didn't know what to do.
It was going to be our last visit together, after my parent's divorce. But, I didn't know it at the time. I was a little girl.
My father wanted to buy me a toy. But, my mother didn't want me to return home with one. I wasn't supposed to take anything from him.
So, I told him I didn't want anything. I was okay.
But, I wasn't...
Jesus wants us to be free to remember-
the wounds we have carried,
the wounds we have survived,
the wounds we have kept hidden.
We can be free to remember, so that we can be comforted. And to comfort each other.
He wants to say to you and me -
I know what you've carried.
I've loved you completely.
Even back then.
I haven't forgotten.
You can be with me.
This way.
Now.
-Devotional excerpt by Bonnie Gray from (in)courage.Click Here to read Bonnie's story and testimony.
:angel: :angel:
Spirit-Led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby's First Year
Jul 02, 2012 01:25 am | Megan Tietz
From fifth-grade forward, Megan Tietz has been scribbling words onto any surface that would stand still. The birth of her oldest daughter seven years ago opened a fresh vein of words, and she found blogging to be a profoundly rewarding medium for sharing them. In 2006, she launched SortaCrunchy to share about her adventures in cloth diapering, babywearing, and all things natural parenting. She has been surprised, overwhelmed, comforted, and inspired by the community of friends and readers at SortaCrunchy.
Megan is the parenting and kids columnist at Simple Mom, and she often surprises even herself with the stories she tells at A Deeper Story. In April of this year, she released Spirit-Led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby's First Year with her friend and co-author, Laura Oyer. She and her husband and two daughters happily make their home in the heart of Oklahoma City.
***
Through the years, I've given away and narrowed down and passed along most of our baby stuff with the idea being that I would keep only what is the most precious, the most meaningful to me from the baby season of life. Tucked away in a plastic bin, there are cards in pink envelopes from baby showers and calendars carefully noting new milestones and tiny baby shoes and, of course, the sleep journals.
Actually, sleep journal is probably far too formal of description for what you would find in that storage bin. They are actually sheets of paper with primitive grids marked out and filled in with ballpoint pen. "Went down to nap at 9:37. Slept 42 minutes. Awake 7 minutes. Had to rock back to sleep. Slept 40 more minutes." In remarkable detail, I read in my own handwriting the obsessive notes from day after day of trying to solve my oldest daughter's sleep "problems."
A long-time sufferer of the exhausting pursuit of the perfect, I was determined that I would handle parenting The Right Way.
It seemed to me that the best way to learn how to do things The Right Way was to read some books. And so read I did. Lots of books. And I asked around for suggestions, and one book in particular came recommended to me highly by friends and family who had found great success in following its advice.
Before our first baby was born, I found comfort in the pages of this book. It carefully explained its common sense approach to answering the questions of caring for a baby, and I determined that The Right Way meant adhering to the book's advice from Day One.
In the days and weeks after Dacey was born, however, the calm, warm comfort I had found in the book's pages turned to icy fear and doubt. I seemed to be failing the program in almost every way, particularly in the realm of sleep. This is when I painstakingly created the sleep journals. This is when I spent hours googling phrases like "baby nap too short" and "four month old won't sleep night" and "baby won't sleep damage brain." I was wracked with worry over the fact that my baby wouldn't sleep the way the book said she should, and I was desperate to fix our problems.
Because at the root of my worry was a growing sense of fear. It wasn't just about her too-short naps or not sleeping through the night by twelve weeks. It was bigger than sleep. It was a fear that if we couldn't follow the instructions for a healthy, well-adjusted baby, it meant we would be facing nothing but stress and heartache for the rest of our parenting days. The books made it clear that if parents didn't direct every moment of baby's day, the end result would be an insecure, demanding child, a troubled home life, and a strained marriage.
Thanks be to God, He rescued me with His Truth. And in the way it always does, His Truth set me free. Come back tomorrow when my co-author Laura will share the antidote to the fear that threatened to choke the joy out of parenting our new babies in that first year of life.
By: Megan, SortaCrunchy
:angel:
#SheReadsTruth — A God-Sized Adventure
Jul 02, 2012 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
I stumbled upon the conversation one afternoon on Twitter. I admit I was eavesdropping on Gussy and became curious by the hashtag #SheReadsTruth in her 140 characters.
I clicked thru to find a beautiful collage of instagram photos from other women that were reading truth. I joined.
I read those red letter words every morning on my leopard chaise lounge in the corner of my bedroom and journaled for the first time in my 33 years.
I have loved every moment and been transformed like so many other of His daughters.
One of the secrets? This time we're doing it together. {Isn't that true? That it's easier when we have each other to hold us up, to listen, to cheer. God's girls in action, loving Him and each other.}
What started as a conversation between @CoconutRobot and @GussySews has become a community of women reading God's Word and lives being changed by them. These creative women recently launched a new site to better serve this organic community that is rapidly growing, based solely on reading the Bible daily.
{I know many of you probably already know about #SheReadsTruth, but I've gotta share a good thing when I come across it.}
The story behind #SheReadsTruth? Gussy tells it so well.
"I had been told for months prior to leaving the country that traveling to Tanzania with Compassion would change our lives forever, that Zack + I would come back new people, that God was going to show us miraculous things. Of course I nodded my head and closed my eyes and said "yes" to them, but really — I wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about.
Our week in Tanzania WAS life-changing. I did come back a new person, God DID show us miraculous things.
But on that first day back I didn't know how to translate any of these feelings.
The next week, however, I could feel myself beginning to decode things a little more easily.
Then one afternoon I was on the phone with Kacia. She wanted to hear allllll the details from our trip, details I hadn't shared on my blog. I remember telling Kacia I felt a strong prompting to start reading the Bible daily. I can't tell you how many times I had said that before — probably over a dozen, to be real with you — but never had I felt like THIS WAS IT, I was finally going to conquer this fault of mine.
Then I told Kacia, If I don't start reading the Bible every day I'm going to become homeless. I wanted some accountability with how serious I wanted to get with this new lifestyle."
#SheReadsTruth was born.
It's so simple and powerful because of the One who called Kacia and Gussy to this recent journey. {It secretly reminds me of how God planted the seeds of (in)courage in mine and Holley's heart a few years ago. I love to watch how He sows and sometimes reaps so quickly. How He plants the God-sized dreams in a willing heart.}
I adore them for their obedience to plant a small seed, take a risk, be obedient to His leading. . . and how their small step has impacted so many already. Thousands of women are reading their Bible every day. The Word is being planted and memorized and already reaping love in our homes and neighborhoods.
Kacia describes perfectly what's happened over the last 30+ days with #SheReadsTruth.
I hope that you can read my smile in these words. Not just a smile confined to my mouth and lips, but one that exudes from my entire being and causes my eyes to squint. Joy might describe it better.
God is moving. Lives are being changed. And it is all about Him.
Another deep breath.
We're doing this together. Are you are feeling discouraged? Send out an SOS. In need of prayer? Let us know. We are a community. We are His children. Let's love each other hard. Let's spur one another on towards Him.
YEOW! Let's start this new plan together strong. Because in Him, we are strong.
Join Kacia and Gussy {and me!} along with thousands others as we complete Soul Detox and begin Living the Surrendered Life. To find out more about the #SheReadsTruth community and join this exciting God-sized adventure, visit their site.
Have you ever had a prompting from the Lord that was clear like this? Did you listen? What was the result? — from Lost but Found, Angie Smith
:angel: :angel:
Spirit-Led Parenting: Finding Freedom From Fear
Jul 03, 2012 01:25 am | Laura Oyer
In yesterday's post, Megan shared the struggle through heartache and confusion that began the journey toward Spirit-Led Parenting. Today, her co-author, Laura Oyer, shares the second part of the message – the one God used to bring redemption to their mothering journeys.
Laura and her high school sweetheart-turned-husband, Mark, have two children – Maya, a sensitive, wise almost-second-grader, and Noah, a four-year-old version of Buddy the Elf.
Laura blogs about the real and ridiculous things of life at In the Backyard, and is a contributor at Grace for Moms.
***********
As Megan shared yesterday, her first weeks and months of parenting were a time filled with fear, namely the fear that she was failing.
Her story echoes mine. We each found ourselves overwhelmed by the weight of failed expectations, intense confusion, and total lack of direction. We've told you how parenting manuals caused so much distress for us when we were new mothers. So why on earth would we write a book on parenting?
Because somewhere along the way, we discovered a beautiful truth: there is another way.
"There is an approach to parenting that looks fear in the face and boldly speaks an answer: Freedom. Freedom from required formulas, unrealistic expectations of our children and ourselves, and the belief that we must force our babies to fit into a mold that may not have been designed for them."
In the lowest, most darkest moments of weathering the shock of parenting babies who in no way acted the way the books said they should, God spoke into our lives a radical idea, that He had a unique path for each family – one that honors the beautifully-created individuality of both parents and children – and that we could embrace the freedom to follow His lead.
"This idea of beginning without a clear plan can be unnerving. We want consistent guidelines and cold hard facts. We want outlines and directions that are easy to read and follow. But Spirit-led parenting doesn't work like that. And the reason for this is yet another radical idea: the first year should be less about training our babies and more about God developing us as parents and human beings. If we let Him, God can use that first intense year of baby's life to train us how to live a life that is fully surrendered to Him. To cultivate in us a trust that follows His lead, seeks Him first, and understands His grace."
Eventually, we had the courage to tell others about this revelation. We shared our stories, and were surprised and overwhelmed by the response. Other parents shared their own journeys, how they had been burned by trying so hard to follow one parenting methodology or another, how the quiet promptings of the Spirit were drowned in the clamor and noise of the Mommy Wars.
And that is how God first stirred our hearts to write this book. We are passionate about sharing the stories of our own lives and those of others to illustrate how the first year of parenting doesn't have to be marked with insecurity, shame, and worry. Instead, it can be a year of life-changing growth and transformation.
"He gently leads those that have young." (Isaiah 40:11)
Our invitation is for you to join us in discovering the freedom that God offers to families everywhere:
Freedom to lean wholly on the wisdom of God in the trenches of parenting ... because He is faithful.
Freedom to embrace the beautiful uniqueness of your child ... because they were fearfully and wonderfully made by the work of His hands.
Freedom – yes – even to fail ... because He loves and redeems and there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
We would love to share our stories with you. Because we know now and declare for the rest of our days that He has truly set us free.
By: Laura Oyer, In the Backyard
Baby toes photo by: sabianmaggy on flickr
*************
Megan and I are offering five copies of Spirit-Led Parenting to (in)courage readers. To enter to win, leave a comment on yesterday's post finishing this sentence: My biggest fear about having a new baby was/is _______________. Your answer can be silly or serious. We'll choose five commenters to win a copy of the book on Friday!
:angel:
Friends For Life (What I Learned About Friendship From A Bunch Of Guys)
Jul 03, 2012 01:20 am | Deidra
My husband has friends he's known since preschool. Real friends. A couple of them are friends on Facebook, too. But most of them say things like, "I don't have time for Facebook." They don't really care about Twitter or Instagram, and don't even mention Pinterest to them.
They stare blankly and listen politely when it comes to social media, because they prefer a phone call to a status update any day.
Last weekend, my husband and I drove 800 miles each way to spend the weekend with the crew. That's what these guys do. Whenever one of them has a life event, the rest of them move mountains to be right by their side. This time around, one of the guys was celebrating the graduation of his youngest child from high school. Not everyone makes it every time. But if one of the guys can't be there in person, he makes a phone call to let his presence be known. (Maybe someone should tell these guys about Skype.)
At the party, I hung out with the wives and girlfriends of these men who've known each other so long. We took pictures of the guys and we listened (again) as they exchanged their most-loved and best-told stories from days spent together as kids, and then adolescents, and then teens, and adults. No matter how many times we get together, the stories never grow old. We laugh until our cheeks hurt and I have to walk away to catch my breath.
"They've really got something special." I heard it a lot that evening. Complete strangers watched this group of men, now pushing (or clinging tightly to) fifty, and we all knew their friendships were for real and for life.
I leaned my elbows on the table top and took a minute to really see them. I wanted to figure out their secret, because friendship like theirs is more than sharing a common history. It's more than driving 800 miles for milestones like weddings and babies and graduations.
You probably already know their secret. It's simple, really. "I love you." That's it. I listened to these men say it over and over again. Unashamed. Heartfelt. Sincere. True.
It's the reason they treasure their common history. It's the reason they drive for miles, or catch the 6 AM flight from the east coast, or tell the same stories and laugh until their sides ache. This is the secret to friendships that last a lifetime: loving someone – really loving them – and not being afraid to let them know.
By: Deidra, Jumping Tandem
:angel: :angel:
It Won't Be Like This For Long
Jul 03, 2012 01:10 am | Mary Beth
Spring Break. Sophomore year of college. Two friends and I got wild and crazy. We drove to Chicago for a Beth Moore College Women's Conference. With my mother. I know. How wild and rebellious we were. Still, we planned this trip for months, and all of us were beyond excited. We were going to hear Beth Moore in a small setting. We had tickets to see Wicked! Everything shaped up for this to be a once in a lifetime trip.
Then we hit downtown Chicago during rush hour. I was driving. Susie, the Garmin, spouted off directions in her monotonous drone. All went well until she told me to turn down Wacker Drive.
If you have been to Chicago, you probably know what I am about to say.
Y'all, Wacker Drive goes underground. Underground in downtown Chicago. I am from small town Mississippi. We do not even have an interstate in my town. We have red lights, but no major roadways. Definitely nothing underground.
I'm telling you it was impossible to get out of this underground maze. Susie was so baffled, she did not know what to tell us. "Recalculating," in the most irritated tone ever, became her mantra. We were stuck down there for what felt like forever. I was terrified, embarrassed, and just wanted to go home.
After minutes that seems like days, we finally escaped and made it to the hotel. But the damage was done. I let that negative experience steal my joy and anticipation of the weekend. I was anxious and nervous for the rest of the trip. My mind was consumed with how are we going to get home without going down that dreaded Wacker Drive again. I could not rest until I was safely back at home. In the midst of my worry and concern, I am sure I missed out on much of the fun in that trip.
Sadly, this is not an isolated experience for me. I often find myself so anxious for the next thing that I miss the right now.
Sometimes I miss the bigger moments of life.
While serving in Thailand as a summer missionary, I marked the days off looking anxiously towards the weekends when we got to go back to the missionary compound instead of really investing in the children around me.
Pushing through to graduation, I forgot to just stop and enjoy being a student and the unique time in life college presents.
Sometimes it's the small things that pass me by.
Worried about getting stuck in traffic on the way home and getting in bed late, I miss the fun of the Rangers winning a baseball game and my husband's excitement in being there.
In such a hurry to get blogs written and dinner cooked, I forget to enjoy playing with my son.
Some days, I breathe in God's grace and enjoy my place in life. But other times I am too consumed with self and anxious to move on that I miss the beauty of the moment. But each day is a gift to be rejoiced in.
"This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it" Psalm 127:1.
Are you anxious to be married? Need to get supper on the table? Anxiously waiting to become a parent? Do you have 10 things still on your to do list? Are you worried about finances or your job? Wondering when the diapers and laundry will every end?
You're not alone, but God did not create us to live captive to our anxieties and worries. Christ came to give us freedom (Galatians 5:1) and life more abundantly (John 10:10).
Stop and breathe in the wonder of that Truth. Breathe it in and let it fill you up.
Now look around and see what you were missing. As the country song says, it won't be like this for long.
By: Mary Beth, New Life Steward
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Freedom in Motherhood, Freedom in Mindset
Jul 04, 2012 01:25 am | Jamie Martin
Jamie joined the blogosphere kicking and screaming. It took a visionary husband with a gentle nudge and neon signs from One above to convince her to add her voice to the multitude. Incredibly God showed up and blessed her efforts.
Jamie writes at Steady Mom about intentional, professional motherhood and at Simple Homeschool about a living education at home. She is a mama to three cute children born on three separate continents.
Jamie is the author of two books: Steady Days: A Journey Toward Intentional, Professional Motherhood and Mindset for Moms: From Mundane to Marvelous Thinking in Just 30 Days. She likes writing about herself in the third person because she can make herself sound cooler than she really is.
***
I took large, quick steps, pushing a double stroller around my neighborhood's block of rural homes. The hot Texan sun blared down, but I hardly noticed. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts–and they weren't happy ones.
"I can't do this, God!" rattled my inner voice. My biological son Jonathan, 15-months-old at the time, had recently taken his first steps. Our eight-month-old, Elijah, had joined our family from Liberia, West Africa just two months before.
These babies adored me and wanted Mama at all times. That was the problem–there were two of them, one of me. The lies in my head taunted that I was far from equal to the task ahead.
When I arrived home I emailed a friend. "The boys think I'm the most amazing person in the world now, but one day they'll find out I'm a big fraud."
She wrote back, assuring me that motherhood did not require perfection as a prerequisite. That grace, love, and dependence on One far more capable was all that I needed.
She believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. And by speaking truth, my friend helped dispel the lies that had taken root in my thoughts.
At the time I didn't recognize them as lies–isn't it incredible how real those voices can seem? But in all honesty it was only my imagination that made me miserable that day. I chose to nurture worry instead of truth.
the moment our boys met each other for the first time
Back then I didn't realize I had any control over my thoughts. I thank God for motherhood because it made me reach the end of myself.
God used my vulnerability to bring me to new levels of joy.
The discovery I began on that day seven years ago inspired me to write my latest e-book, Mindset for Moms: From Mundane to Marvelous Thinking in Just 30 Days. It represents a journey that has led me, not to perfection, but to greater freedom. The freedom that God wants to offer us as we follow Him.
What if we discovered that those programs on repeat play in our minds are not the real us after all, and that we can upload and run new life-changing programs in their place?
A Special Offer for (in)courage readers:
Any (in)courage reader who buys Mindset for Moms in any format (PDF, Kindle, Nook, or iTunes) can receive a FREE PDF version of my first book, Steady Days (a $9 value).
To take advantage of this offer, simply send me an email after your purchase with the subject line "I bought Mindset for Moms" and I'll respond within a few days. Offer valid through July 31, 2012.
For today, let's start by getting honest and completing this sentence:
"I tend to worry about ______, but what God wants me to do instead is ______."
GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment with your response below to be entered to win a copy of Mindset for Moms. (Two winners today; two winners tomorrow.)
My answer? I tend to worry about how my imperfections will affect my kids, but what God wants me to do instead is to trust. believe. and enjoy!
********
Subscribe to Jamie's blog and follow her on Twitter or Facebook.
:angel:
Where the Brave Find a Home
Jul 04, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
The families come in packs of seven, twelve, twenty-two. The mothers hold their pig-tailed babies and the babies hold the tiny flags, waving country pride and gripping a symbol they know nothing about. Maybe I know nothing of it, either.
We gather on the 18th hole of the famous golf course, a line of condos behind us, the harbor before us. We set our chairs up to face the water, spread out our blankets and wait while the sun sinks down slow in front of us.
The couple to our right sits close, whispers long. She holds a sparkler. He holds a beer.
The family behind us throws a football and apologizes every time the youngest wanders over to our blanket. A group of six have their bikes parked to our left. They sit in a circle and laugh about things I can't hear, things they all have in common, things they all understand.
They all belong, or so it seems.
In the midst of a community gathering like this, it's easy to see the beloved-ness of others.
It's easy to watch them with their hot dogs and their jokes and their frisbees from far off and believe they have it easy. The stories of strangers are so convenient, so untainted by the pain of divorce, the threat of cancer, the rejection of friends.
We can't see the fight they had in the car on the way here.
We don't hear the voice of the lover who found someone else to love.
We won't ever know she lost the baby, he lost the job, they lost their mother.
All we see is a group of smiling, hamburger-eating, lemonade-drinking, firework-waiting families on a day in early July.
I am guilty of slapping them all with greener grass, of looking toward the warm yellow glowing windows of their condos, of wondering what it would be like to walk in their easy shoes.
I generally see the world as a half-full glass. But even in the half-full, there is emptiness on top and sometimes that emptiness shows up even as I will it not to.
Brave is a valiant word, but sometimes brave doesn't look extraordinary. Sometimes, for me, it means digging in my heels right where I am and finding home even though it isn't what I wished it was, even in the midst of the emptiness, the longing, the soon-but-not-yet.
It is a gift to learn what it means to be with what is, to find contentment in the right-now, to believe God is still good. Being with what is takes courage. Resisting the pull to compare takes belief.
How do you resist this pull in your own life?
:angel: :angel:
All Beautiful
Jul 03, 2012 12:12 pm | Jennifer
I am a beauty seeker. Seeking makes it possible to be a beauty finder. Seek and you will find.
(A flower yet to open.)
I like to wander and admire. It's impossible not to admire. My dad's farm, my mom's garden, my grandma's flowers, our own yard. Being in the midst of the beauty, face to face with it, is comfortable. It makes me happy. I feel close to Him, surrounded by His work. I am amazed.
(A caterpillar into a butterfly.)
When you are open and looking and searching, you realize things don't have to be perfect to be beautiful. You start to see the beauty in the imperfect. You start to find beauty in the messy. You are gifted a change in your perspective. Because God is good. Because He does not make mistakes. Because He makes it ALL beautiful.
(Blooms turned to seed.)
Everything beautiful begins with God. Ecclesiastes 3:11
(The beginning of a new day.)
It doesn't take long, just take a moment to look around. I am sure you already see something. Something beautiful made by Him. I challenge you today, this week, this month, to be a beauty seeker. Look around and take notice of all the beautiful things that began with Him. Create a post, use words or images, and link up to share with us your beauty finds. This is a fun way for the entire (in)courage community to share together, not just those doing a review post this month.
(A family.)
This Beauty Seeker link-up will be open all month. Take time to seek. Let your heart be open to see. Come back and share at any time. Some of you are hosting a review this month and have story posts, that link-up will be live on July 10th.
(Engaged. Beginning of life together.)
The new Redeemed Outdoor line by DaySpring, encourages us to remember He has made everything beautiful. Beautiful begins with God. It is a wonderful collection to add something special to your outdoor decor.
Everything beautiful begins with God.
Everything.
Join the Beauty Seeker link-up, open all month. This is not the review story post link-up.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Is Your Mindset About God Flawed?
Jul 05, 2012 01:25 am | Jamie Martin
I'm sharing about my e-book, Mindset for Moms, this week–if you missed it, head here to read yesterday's post.
***
I spun around on the tree swing, full of praise. One hand holding the rope, one hand lifted in awe, a grin on my face.
Amazed by God's goodness.
I had dared to dream of a new house for my family. A place where we could love, learn, and fulfill His calling. But my dream was too good, too specific, too unlikely. So I let it go, trusted, remained content.
He had turned around and given the dream, in all its fulfillment, right back.
But why was I surprised? Isn't goodness and mercy part of the territory when it comes to His character?
Christians tend to have a flawed mindset about God. We seem to believe that if we surrender and say yes, that He can't wait to do the most awful things to us–to make our lives miserable in the name of character development.
How could we dare to think this about our loving Father? Is this how we feel toward our own children? Hardly. I am a wildly imperfect mother, yet I always search for ways to bless my little ones.
In the timeless classic A Christian's Secret to a Happy Life, Hannah Whitall Smith tackles this skewed viewpoint of God:
"He is our Father, and He loves us, and He knows just what is best, and therefore, of course, His will is the very most blessed thing that can come to us. I do not understand how it is that Satan has succeeded in blinding the eyes of the Church to this fact.
But it really would seem as if God's own children were more afraid of His will than of anything else in life; His lovely, lovable will, which only means loving-kindnesses and tender mercies, and blessings unspeakable to their souls."
My family and I have made life choices that many would consider crazy and uncertain. Here are a few:
adopted a sick infant who nearly died, my son Elijah from Liberia
adopted an older child with special needs, my daughter Trishna from India
became missionaries and lived fully off of the financial support we raised
moved cross-country to work against one of the darkest issues of our time, child sex trafficking and exploitation
I write this list not out of pride about our decisions, quite the opposite. We wanted to do these things, and it is easy to do what we want to do!
That's the thing about God–when we offer our dreams to Him, He makes us want to do His will. This enables us to move forward in joy and confidence, even when we face life's inevitable challenges.
When we change our mindset about God, we can dream again. And we need not fear giving those dreams to Him, for we'll find His dreams for our lives even better than those we could ever have imagined for ourselves.
"You parents–if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly father give good gifts to those who ask him." Matthew 7 : 9-11
A Special Offer for (in)courage readers:
Any (in)courage reader who buys Mindset for Moms in any format (PDF, Kindle, Nook, or iTunes) can receive a FREE PDF version of my first book, Steady Days (a $9 value).
To take advantage of this offer, simply send me an email after your purchase with the subject line "I bought Mindset for Moms" and I'll respond within a few days. Offer valid through July 31, 2012.
GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment with your response to this statement to be entered to win a copy of Mindset for Moms. (Two winners today.)
"If I wasn't afraid, I would ask God for _______________."
My answer? "If I wasn't afraid, I would ask God for a new opportunity."
********
Subscribe to Jamie's blog and follow her on Twitter or Facebook.
Purchase your copy of Mindset for Moms
Read More | Leave a Comment
On creativity and the beautiful redemption of fear
Jul 05, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance
"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." ~ Joseph Chilton Pearce
These days I'm living outside my comfort zone.
A new country, a new culture and a place where I can't speak the language, and without the blessed invention of GPS, I'd be perpetually lost. Even with it, sometimes I still get lost!
I started out as a scaredy cat on wobbley legs, but I'm learning some things about fear–
It is Deceiver, seeking to confuse or defeat me.
It is Compass, reminding me of my own limitations while pointing to the strength and sufficiency of God.
(From Fraidy Cat.)
God knew our inclination toward fear of life's uncertainties and unknowns, and by his providential grace, he provided remedy through his word.
Fear reveals my frailty and need for God.
Fear exposes void that begs filling with peace, love, courage, wisdom, joy.
Fear recognizes my insufficiency and God's strength.
Fear is a driving force straight to the throne of God. Isn't that a beautiful redemption?!
Have you ever avoided trying something new because you were scared that you'd fail or look silly or you were worried about what others might think?
I know I have. Fear isn't anchored only to life-impacting decision and circumstance, sometimes it's tied to little things, too. There are countless things I've wanted to try but didn't pursue because I knew I wouldn't be good at it.
Which is absolutely ridiculous!
Why do we set a standard of perfection when we're just learning how or trying something for the first time?
A group of friends recently invited me to join them for an Art Day. We gathered up basic supplies–and when I say basic, I mean watercolors and brushes bought at the Dollar Store–and chose a beautiful location for inspiration. I realized quickly I had no natural artistic ability; and although everyone else had painting experience, they were extremely encouraging and generous to me. Mostly I watched them work, learning through their mechanics and impressed by their skill.
In spite of my pitiful sketches (I didn't make it to watercoloring), something magical happened on the dock that day: I let go of the fear of being "bad" at it! Amidst the encouragement of this sweet group of women, and creativity from within begging to get out, I tried...and had a blast!
I didn't allow fear to hold me hostage and keep me from trying. Instead, my creative void that fear tried to fill with doubt and inadequacy was replaced with joy and accomplishment.
My friend and fellow (in)courage contributor, Dawn Camp, created a lovely print –"Give God your art; for her, it means asking how to use it to better serve Him and bless others (she's a wonderfully talented photographer!). What I'm realizing more and more is that my desires are what God has already given me, especially when it comes to the creative.
If you're one who identifies with my fraidy-cattedness, how can I pray specifically for you? What desires has God given you that you've been afraid to pursue because of doubt or feelings of inadequacy? Can I be your biggest cheerleader? Summer is the perfect time to exercise your creativity! Whether by writing or painting or drawing or crafting or WHATEVER, what have you always wanted to try but haven't**?
GirlieQs, I'm convinced you have what it takes, and you can take confidence in the wisdom of my friend Nester ~ It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful.
By Robin Dance, artist not-so extraordinaire.
** yet
Read More | Leave a Comment
An Uncomfortable Flip
Jul 05, 2012 01:10 am | Carrie Stephens
"I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age... and in the age to come, eternal life.
- Mark 10:29-30
My Aunt Mary married a carpenter back in the days of hippies and groovy love. Long before flipping houses was a reason for a good television show, she and her husband, my Uncle Mike, flipped houses under the California sun.
Uncle Mike and Aunt Mary would buy a house that was run-down, live in it while they made it shiny and new, then sell it. They lived out of boxes until there were places to put things. Sawdust settled in corners as walls were torn down and rebuilt. Mary once joked that her children didn't know what carpet was because they lived on cement while the renovations were being done, then left the day flooring was installed.
Hard work and a nomadic lifestyle were embraced until the house became comfortable, then they would move on.
The longer I live the more I find the seasons of life are like one of Aunt Mary's houses.
At first, the conditions are unfamiliar. Unsure of where my soul can rest, I keep boxes of emotions and an inventory of experiences while my heart makes space. I try to figure out what to change in order to make the most of the season. Some seasons require a level of character I have never been able to muster previously. Others challenge me to use lessons of the past in new ways. Always, my circumstances offer the chance to grow more toward Christ.
Every new season brings renovations for my own heart, mind, and soul. Then, just when my heart is resting in Christ in some new way, God moves me on.
The sad part of this is that I may never be comfortable in life. I may not get to hunker down and enjoy the blessing of having everything just right. Really, it's my own fault. I pledged my devotion to help build God's Kingdom when I became a Christian, and building is messy business.
Each uncomfortable season, though, increases my adoration and awe of God's goodness and power. When I remember how He flipped my life with His own sacrifice, I know it is worth living uncomfortably and wholly for Him. How could I choose not to follow Him now, when His love has become my salvation?
Eventually, Uncle Mike and Aunt Mary made enough money to buy two houses. One was to flip, and one to live in. The one they live in is on a hill overlooking the California coastline. It has real flooring, walls that are all where they ought to be, and vast windows so the breathtaking view can be appreciated.
A little renovation and discomfort pays off eventually. Jesus promised us it would, and His promises are secure. If I never know complete comfort in this life, I can rest in the knowledge that I have served a good God who rewards those who seek Him. In my mind I can see heaven. It is more stunning than a hillside view of the ocean, more pristine than a catalog home created by designers, and full of love, peace, and joy.
Someday, I will call it my home forever.
By Carrie Stephens
:angel: :angel: :angel:
By Their Fruit {Blueberry Basket Project}
Jul 06, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer
Jesus said you will know a person's nature, their character, by their fruit.
With so much of our lives online, it can be easy to see only the good and to only want to show the good. It makes it hard to know the authentic person. It can also make it hard to be our authentic self. But we are reminded to look at someone's life, at our own life. A person reveals themselves not by what they say, but who they are.
Each tree is recognized by its own fruit. People do not pick figs from thornbushes, or grapes from briers. Luke 6:44
HE knows the truth. HE knows the person we are in the public and the person we are in private. HE knows the authentic person behind words and any false images. HE knows what is in our heart.
I love this verse for the great reminder to be aware and examine myself first. To think about the fruit I am bearing. I want to focus on bearing good fruit!
Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them. Matthew 7:20
So this is a little project that can be that reminder.
Start with a plastic fruit (or in this case tomato) container/basket.
Clean out your container. Make sure it is dry and ready to paint.
I used white paint, but you could use any color. Paint the inside of the bottom and the inside of the lid. Painting the inside gives this a wonderful finished look through the plastic... almost like porcelain or something!
After the first coat you will be thinking that it looks terrible. Don't worry. Wait for it to dry and give it another coat or two. You just want the paint to look solid through the plastic.
While this is drying, get an old container, blue paint and some small, blueberry looking, rocks. You can substitute blue marbles or blue glass beads for the painted rocks. You could also use red if you want your fruit to be cherries or raspberries.
Mix a little bit of water with the paint in the container and throw in your rocks. I did this in a few groups. Just shake them around. They coat very easily.
Take the rocks out of the paint with a plastic fork or spoon and lay on parchment paper or waxed paper. Roll them around as they dry so they dry on all sides.
This is a PDF file. Simply click on the image and you will have the option to download or save the file.
After you print your 'By Their Fruit' label, cut it out. I used double sided tape to attach it to the lid.
Next, fill the basket with your 'berries'.
I used a few of the 'berries' to sit beside my basket in my kitchen.
This simple little fruit basket helps me to focus on the fruit I am bearing.
Do you like to have reminders like these around your home? What ways have you found to bring them in?
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
Read More | Leave a Comment
Winners & What's up Next
Jul 06, 2012 01:10 am | incourage
The road to Motherhood can be a winding and tricky one. If you're a new mom, prospective mom, or were reading this week's post and shaking your head in agreement– we're right there with you. You'll find plenty of useful knowledge in both books featured this week!
Spirit-Led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby's First Year
Spirit-Led Parenting: Finding Freedom from Fear
The Winners of a free copy of Spirit- led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby's First Year are...
10) Brittnie
32) Brandi Symoniak
56) Christy
79) Jess S
108) Heather
You can follow Megan and Laura's motherhood journey at their blogs Sorta Crunchy and In the Backyard. And find their book, Spirit- led Parenting: From Fear to Freedom in Baby's First Year here!
***
And we love how Jamie reminds us that "motherhood [does] not require perfection as a prerequisite." Jamie found freedom from perfection in her Motherhood journey. We hope you will too with her book, Mindset for Moms: From Mundane to Marvelous Thinking in Just 30 Days.
Freedom in Motherhood, Freedom in Mindset
Is Your Mindset About God Flawed?
Below are the winners of a copy of Mindset for Moms. Winners are listed by comment number and will be receiving an email shortly!
Wednesday's Winners:
16) Krissa
27) leandri
Thursday's Winners:
6) Helen G.
15) Kristena
And here's a look at what's coming up next week! You can take a look at the remaining Recommended Reads Schedule here.
July 9-13
Empty Promises: The Truth about You, Your Desires, and the Lies You're Believing / Pete Wilson
In Empty Promises, you'll learn how to replace, and not just relinquish, life's empty promises by turning your focus and worship toward Him. It is the only thing that will set you absolutely free from the endless pursuit of everything else.
When You Need Your Heart In The Right Place {And A Friendship Manifesto}
Jul 07, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
"Let's be women who no longer compare and compete, but celebrate and complete our friendships...with the unique offering we bring." Renee Swope
On a sun drenched Saturday, us girls gather at Jen's house, each bringing a glass or porcelain plate. On Jen's driveway, we take turns dropping our plate. After each one shatters, we walk around and pick up a few of each other's shards to add to a few of our own.
Because this is what good friends do, become safe places to break wide open and share the shards of the mess.
We take each other's broken plate pieces and place them in heart-shaped molded plaster. When we are satisfied with our individual mosaics, we work grout in between the shards.
Because this is what the best kind of friends do, they hold onto each other's broken parts and encourage Christ's love to enter all the in between places.
Sometimes I've done this well and other times not so much.
If you expect me to be a perfect friend {sister, daughter}, you will be sorely disappointed. I mess up and can be selfish and want to talk too much and listen too little. I laugh obnoxiously loud. I might forget your birthday.
Only Jesus gives us never-disappointing, always-fulfilling friendship and support. And when He guides me to the story of Ruth and Naomi, I smile remembering one of my favorite pictures of genuine friendship.
Ruth had such devotion to Naomi, she vowed not even death itself would come between them. Ruth adopted Naomi's faith, so she knew they would spend life in eternity together. But while they lived and breathed on earth, Ruth would do everything in her power to be the kind of friend who celebrate and complete Naomi. In other words, Ruth would not do anything that would separate their hearts or drive a wedge in their friendship.
Like the colorful pieces in a mosaic, loving friends in practical ways reflects vibrant beauty. And while those outward expressions show love, my inward heart must be in the right place. Because like the grout between glass and porcelain shards, the right heart holds everything together. To ensure a right heart within me, I must make wise day-to-day decisions on how to interact with my genuine friend, to not do anything that drives a wedge in our friendship.
So, I keep this tucked away. I don't follow it perfectly, but it shows my heart's goal.
A Manifesto for You, Friend
I will be a safe place. I won't share your confidences.
I will talk about you behind your back, and I will use words that build you up and show you off.
I will defend your reputation rather than contribute to its demise.
I will show humility through encouragement, and do my best to let my actions reflect the way Jesus sees you.
I will allow a united spirit of completion rather than a divisive spirit of competition enter our friendship.
I will pray for you when you ask me to.
I will be accountable and trustworthy ~ my yes is a yes.
I will be for you and not against you, even when what I say may sting a bit.
I will be there to share in both hard and good, to divide the sorrow and double the joy.
I will give your kids extra grace when they are ornery in front of me. And when they are having a moment, the only thought I'll entertain is it must be your turn for the hard day. Yesterday was mine. And probably tomorrow, too.
I will forgive you when you make a mistake. While I can't control how you behave towards me, I can control how I behave towards you. And I'll do my level best to err on the side of grace and love. Because heaven knows I need to receive it as much as I need to give it.
In friendships, where do you struggle keeping your heart in the right place? What mosaic pieces of friendship would you add to the manifesto above?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
When You Feel Like You Want Just a Little Bit More
Jul 09, 2012 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
Yellow tape blows in the wind as tourists press in to peer over the edge of Niagara Falls. Emergency vehicles swirl their lights as firemen and police officers put their heads together and talk quietly.
"What happened?" my husband asked a man standing next to us.
"Some guy went over the falls."
I suck in a deep breath and whisper a prayer. But it's what the man said next that stung my heart.
"He probably wanted to get a good picture for Twitter. You know how people are. He ignored the signs. Then he got to the edge and slipped over."
It turns out that's not what happened and miraculously, the man survived.
But I kept thinking of those words again and again because it could have been what happened.
A man risking his life for Twitter.
It sounds so foolish.
And yet...don't I sometimes do that too?
Perhaps not my physical life but the life God has given me.
I love social media. It's a beautiful way to connect. Some of my deepest relationships have grown from this space. I feel called here.
And yet like with all gifts from God, I'm learning there are boundaries to be heeded. All around Niagara Falls there were signs declaring to stay behind the rails.
There's a voice within all of us that says, "Just a little bit more..."
One more tweet.
One more email.
One more hour on facebook.
And it happens in our real lives too.
One more drink.
One more purchase.
One more inappropriate conversation.
We ignore the warnings because we think God is holding us back. And He is. He's holding us back from destroying ourselves.
What are your boundaries?
Besides the clear commandments God gives in Scripture, I believe it's different for everyone. One question seems to help us determine the distract: When does this shift from life-giving to life-threatening?
At some point even what's good can become the enemy of what's best. Sex. Food. Social Media. They can all be full of joy and bring life. But they also can destroy us if we let them. I'm weak and easily tempted. The moment I forget that is the moment my heart begins climbing over the rails.
For me, that means I have a Cyber Sabbath each week and I ask close friends to keep my accountable in other areas where I struggle. We can't do this alone.
As I drift off to sleep in my bed that night it seems I can still hear the rush of Niagara falls in my ears. So much beauty. So much capacity for destruction. God, help us always choose the first.
XO
Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing
:angel:
Hiding Behind The Distractions
Jul 09, 2012 01:05 am | pwilson
Pete Wilson is the founding and senior pastor of Cross Point Church in Nashville, Tennessee, a committed church community that he and his wife, Brandi, planted in 2003. Empty Promises is Pete's much anticipated second book. Pete earned his Bachelors degree in Communications from Western Kentucky University and attended seminary at Southern Seminary in Louisville, KY. He enjoys spending time with Brandi and their 3 boys, hunting, gardening and football.
Like most of you my typical day is usually a blur. Between work, chasing three boys around the house, investing in my marriage, building friendships and trying to stay healthy spiritually and physically, it's hard to find time to just sit and think.
But I've also found that I often use those things as an excuse to not pay attention or examine my own heart.
But sometimes life forces you to pay attention or examine the internal questions you can no longer keep quiet. I had one of those moments recently. I was compelled to come face-to-face with what was lurking at the deepest level of my soul.
These were questions I could no longer ignore:
• Why do I continue to say yes to others, even though I'm overextended and hurting those closest to me?
• Why do I continue to struggle with showing my wife love on a more consistent basis, the way I should?
• Why are my emotions affected more by how many people show up at church than by just being in the presence of our caring God?
• Why do I continue to strive to find my identity in things like acceptance, power, and money instead of in who God says I am?
Each and every question that came to my mind revealed another level of self-deception in my life. It revealed another empty promise I was chasing after.
As I've been spending more and more time alone with God, trying to get to the bottom of the empty promises I've bought into, I've started praying, "God, help me to know me. Help me tear down the scaffolding of power, praise, perfectionism, and performance that I use to prop myself up. Strengthen me so I can bear to be naked and vulnerable in your presence, willing to see the areas of my life where Christ-likeness is so lacking."
"Willing to see"—that's crucial. Because most of us are experts at hiding from what we don't want to know about our own lives.
When my middle son, Gage (on the left in the picture above), was just a toddler, he loved to play hide-and-seek. He especially loved the hiding part, so typically I would have to be "it." After sticking my face in my hands and counting to twenty, I would search the house for him, announcing out loud each step I took and each place I looked. Whenever I found him hiding behind the couch or underneath the table, he would quickly close his eyes as tightly as he could, convinced that if he couldn't see me, I wouldn't be able to see him.
Often we play a similar game with God. In our adult version of hide-and-seek, we hide behind all kinds of noise and distractions. We get up in the morning and turn on the TV, hoping it will distract us from having to think. We'll get in the car and immediately turn on the radio or jump on the phone. Our days will be full of surface level, meaningless conversations about the weather, styles, or the latest celebrity gossip.
We actually fool ourselves into thinking that if we don't acknowledge the areas of our lives where we've bought into empty promises, maybe God won't notice them either.
And while self-awareness can be painful, it can also be the beginning of transformation.
I'm praying my book "Empty Promises" will serve as sort of an invitation for you to look deeper into your own life. It's an opportunity to wake up and look deep into your soul to uncover the layers upon layers of self-deception and the truth that lies beneath them.
Giveaway: Answer this question to enter to win one of two copies of Empty Promises.
Are you ever tempted to hide behind the noise and distractions in your life?
***
You can find Pete on his Blog here, along with other Empty Promises Resources.
:angel: :angel:
Pursuing Friendship {and 4 ways to do it}
Jul 10, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
Ladies at My (in)RL Meetup
Recently I met a lady in my homeschool group. We talked for less than 30 minutes, but had mutual friends and interests and enjoyed each other's company. Less than two weeks later I received an email invitation to her house for an end-of-the-school-year homeschool moms' get-together. Admittedly, I was impressed: this lady understands how to pursue friendship.
Although I didn't know many of the other ladies included in the invitation, I decided to go—to get out and meet new people. I spent most of the evening talking to one of our hostess's neighbors, who didn't know anyone else there. We'd never met (and may never again), but I enjoyed our conversation and the evening in general.
Some are natural hostesses like my new friend, who gathered close to twenty ladies at her home that evening; others panic at the thought of entertaining. But whether social butterflies or introverts, we're all wired with the need to connect.
Let's talk about creative ways to get-together with other ladies and actively pursue friendship!
Recipe Dinner Party
Invite a few friends to your house for dinner. Ask them to bring a favorite dish and enough copies of the recipe to share with each guest. Break out your seldom-used china; get fresh menu ideas; enjoy adult company and conversation.
Book Swap
Get together with a few friends at a book store with comfy chairs and hot beverages. Everyone brings a favorite book and shares why they like it: a grown-up version of the school book report. If one appeals to you, borrow it or purchase it off the shelf. You can also do this at a home or coffee shop, minus the easy shopping.
Book recommendations, girl time, warm mugs—what's not to like?
Curriculum Review Night
This one's for homeschool moms, who are always searching for good resources for the kids or for mom enrichment/encouragement. Bring a few of your best recommendations and lay them out to share. Browse each other's picks; ask questions; take notes; find treasures.
Ladies' Night Out
I'll move mountains to attend a Ladies' Night Out, or LNO. Sometimes they're planned in advance; others are the result of a rough week—a last-minute plea for some girl time. They can be hosted in a home or held at a restaurant.
Although an LNO needs no theme, here are a couple of good ones:
Chocolate (yes, I hosted a chocolate-themed LNO)
Prayer mug exchange (bring a wrapped mug with your name written on a piece of paper inside of it; take home another wrapped mug; pray for the giver of the mug you chose whenever you use it)
How many of you attended an (in)RL event? Show of hands! Did you talk about getting together again soon? Have you?
Use these ideas as a springboard for future get-togethers and feel free to leave your own ideas in the comments!
:angel:
Beautiful In Its Time
Jul 10, 2012 01:15 am | Jennifer
Patience. Honestly, patience is a struggle for me. Always has been. But it is something I am working on.
In a world where instant is almost everywhere, it can be difficult to not focus on that and start expecting it. We often want what we want, when we think we want it. We are trying to run the schedule. When we are focused like that, it can lead to disappointment, frustration and worry because it is not about what we want our schedule to look like. It's God's time, it's God's schedule.
We may not know why something happens when it does or why something isn't happening when we think it should, but the best part is that we don't have to. We don't have to always understand. We don't have to know. We don't have to worry. He has blessed us with the peace of mind knowing He knows.
He's got it. It's already planned.
We just need to trust and have the faith to believe that. He knows the when. He knows the why. While we are busy worried about the details... He sees the big, beautiful picture.
He has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiastes 3:11
He made us here and now. We are at this place, in this time for a reason. Embrace it. Enjoy it. Know there is beauty in His plan. This is our time.
Believing we are made for this time means that we know it is good. His plans for us are good. There is no need to look back with regrets and there is no need to be looking for more. Right here in this moment is where He wants us to be. Here is beautiful.
The Redeemed Outdoor collection is about remembering God has made everything, YES EVERYTHING, beautiful in its time! It is a perfect time to add something from this collection because DaySpring has a "Summer Joy" sale going on right now for 25% off the entire website (includes clearance) with code JOY2012.
:angel: :angel:
We Matter, Y'all
Jul 10, 2012 01:10 am | Christina Carter
It's hard to remember that we matter.
On days when the brand new bag of goldfish has not only been dumped out, it's been walked on...
on days that the dog has chewed off the corner of the bathroom door...
on days when you step on Legos or Littlest Pet Shop creatures and almost curse creatively in front of the children...
on days when the baby finds the Sharpie pen and creates a beautiful mural on the rental house wall...
on days when your teenager acts like you are the most ridiculous person on the planet...
when no one will eat the dinner you made and you're up to your elbows in dirty dish water, wondering if you're ever going to get the laundry caught up...
days filled with guilt and regret and feelings of not measuring up...
days when the best thing you can say is, "Well, we survived it." as you fall into bed, exhausted.
It's hard to remember that any of this matters.
But it does.
There are a lot of things I didn't realize before I became a mother at nineteen. I didn't know that I'd never eat another thing without someone asking for a bite of it. (My almost twenty year old still does this.) I didn't know that I would count using the restroom unaccompanied as pure joy. (Because it's so rare.) I didn't know what exhaustion was. I didn't know what fear was. I didn't know what love was.
And now, at 39, with five kids and very nearly twenty years experience, I do.
I know now that every wiped nose, every kissed boo boo, every story I read them is important. I know now that answering a toy cell phone or clapping for a dancing toddler is vital. I know now that every loud, messy, chaotic mealtime feeds not just their bodies, but their souls...and ours.
Every action we do for these little lives He has trusted us with...it builds them up or it tears them down. It teaches them something, for the good or for the ill.
I tried to remember this yesterday when 5:30 came and everyone fell apart...just like they do every day. I had a toddler crying and hanging around my legs...I had a five year old standing by the stove saying, "But I'm so starving, Mommy"...I had a dog whining and barking in the backyard...two different teens to pick up from this place and that. My blood pressure was skyrocketing and my stomach turning thanks to the morning sickness (which lasts all day, I'd like to point out.) I felt myself slipping into irritation and frustration and even a touch of hopelessness.
I looked down at my ankles, where that toddler girl grumbled, where her sister was still starving... and I realized this.
I have a choice.
And so I turned the stove to Low. I got out two bowls and filled them with sliced strawberries. I sat my two littlest ones in my lap and read them a story about a yellow duck. I hugged them tight and they giggled, I kissed their heads- one auburn, one blonde. I breathed deep and thanked Him for this moment, for these ones.
I said thank you for love.
And I asked for the strength to remember this moment at the next crisis point, the next meltdown moment...I asked Him to remind me the importance of my calling.
The truth is, sometimes I will remember and make the better choice and sometimes I won't. But He is with me, either way.
When have you chosen well? When have you chosen poorly? Were you able to see Him in both?
By: Chris, Restoration
:angel: :angel: :angel:
I Will
Jul 11, 2012 01:25 am | pwilson
Pete Wilson is the founding and senior pastor of Cross Point Church in Nashville, Tennessee, a committed church community that he and his wife, Brandi, planted in 2003. Empty Promises is Pete's much anticipated second book. Pete earned his Bachelors degree in Communications from Western Kentucky University and attended seminary at Southern Seminary in Louisville, KY. He enjoys spending time with Brandi and their 3 boys, hunting, gardening and football.
***
I've often thought it was quite ironic that I have actually trusted God for my salvation and my eternity, yet I struggle so much to trust him with the small details of my life. So when I read about someone like Abraham, who trusted God radically with what mattered most to him, I have to ask how. How did he do it? Why did he do it?
I believe Abraham's faith was built on some words God gave him in the original promise. In the midst of a life filled with uncertainty and with a call on his life that was going to bring more uncertainty, God gave Abraham two words to live by:
I will. I...will.
In fact, six times in God's original conversation with Abraham (Gen. 12), God said, in some way or another, "I will."
I realize you may be facing heavy discouragement or deep heartache because you hold tightly in your hands a very detailed picture of the way you hoped your life would turn out. When you compare that picture with reality, the differences are obvious.
But I firmly believe that if you are willing to trust the God who says, "I will," nothing that is of eternal value in this life is at risk. You ultimately have nothing to fear. Fear enters our minds and begins to take over when we cling too tightly to those pictures of what we think our futures should look like, elevating them to idolatry status and diminishing the Artist of those very pictures.
It's those unexpected shattered-dream moments that provide us with twists and turns in life where we meet God. Rarely do we surrender when we feel strong and in control. But when a dream is shattered, when life takes an unexpected turn and veers out of control, that's when we fall to our knees. That's when a new dream can grow.
There's a lot about what happens to us in life that we cannot control. What we can control, however, is our willingness to seek God in the midst of all the craziness. Surrendering doesn't mean we spend less energy on pursuing our dreams, but it does mean we spend less nervous energy. It means we see our dreams for what they are—possibilities and promises and goals, not sources of our peace and security. It means our confidence is no longer in our ability to achieve each one of our dreams, but in the strength and power of the God we claim to follow.
How do you get there? All it takes is a moment where, like Abraham, you relinquish your grip on your picture of your future and say, "Jesus, I want to trust you with that. Even if it means risking all the stuff I think is valuable, all the good things I'm waiting for, I'm still going to trust you."
And maybe even in this moment, God is showing you something in your life that you know you need to let go of—or at least hold with open hands. It may be something good. It may even be something from him. But it's something you've been trusting to give you what only God can provide.
Often, we're unaware that we even have an idol until our dreams get threatened. This is a fundamental truth about idolatry: prosperity tends to mask our idols; crisis tends to reveal them.
As long as things are going well in my life, as long as my picture of the way I want life to turn out matches up with the picture of my reality, I don't think I have an idol problem. But when there is a crisis, then all of a sudden I realize, "Man, I've been banking on this dream in a way that no dream should be banked on."
Our dreams, no matter how great or noble they may be, always make lousy gods.
Giveaway: Answer this question to enter to win one of two copies of Empty Promises.
Are there any dreams you need to let go of or at least hold with an open hand?
***
You can find Pete on his Blog here, along with other Empty Promises Resources.
:angel:
Liabilities and Assets
Jul 11, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
So often we see our failings as liabilities. Or others failings as liabilities.
There's the girl who had an abortion. There's the girl who committed adultery. There's the girl who walked away from her husband. There's the girl who got so drunk on her own power and influence that she forgot who she was.
I think, however, if you ask any girl who has failed {and failed big} and has allowed God to return her to grace, you'll find that those failings are not liabilities but they are assets.
Maybe you are one of these girls.
Several years ago when I created some terrible situations in my own marriage, I came out the other end of it a changed person and we came out a changed couple. In the months that followed I wrestled with a lot of things, but the one piece that is, even now, hard to work through is
If I could change it and go back, would I?
Yes. And no.
My life was so different after, and my new life was so distinct in the aftermath of it all that I don't know what my life would have been had we not experienced those hard days. Would I trade this newness for life without it?
Yes. What I did was wrong.
So. very. wrong.
My addictions were horrible and my heart was a mess and I know God can do big things without our sinning to add to the mix. So yes, if I could go change it all, I would. I wouldn't have been the betrayer, the hurter, the wounder. I wouldn't have chosen the path of destroying. I would take every minute of it back.
But No. Without the wound, our relationship would never have experienced the kind of renewal that it did. I would not have fallen in love with Jesus in the way that I did when I became the rescued. And without my experiences I would never have the authority to speak to others in the midst of the same pain. Without what I've walked through I could never give counsel to a woman over a cup of coffee on a Thursday morning.
It's an upside down idea. And one that is eternally hard to swallow: that God uses the deep dark to create the very, very good.
"In my deepest wound I saw your glory and it dazzled me, " St. Augustine said.
Because Your strength is made perfect in my weakness.
Your glory is made beautiful in my wound.
Your beauty is made evident in all of my failings.
My liabilities are made assets because of Your love.
Who better to counsel a woman through depression than one who has lived through the dark night of her own soul? Who better to help someone walking through marriage recovery than a person who has seen her own returned to health?
In this upside-down Kingdom, our liabilities are made into assets for Him. Our sins are turned into glories for Him. He redeems what has been lost and takes back what has been stolen.
He does this kind of crazy stuff every day.
So we must remember that there's not a one of us who is any bigger liability than any other of us. My betrayals can be used (have been used) for helping couples knit themselves back to one another. And all of our failings can be turned into things that He can reach in and use us for what is good and true and perfect.
Has God used your weaknesses and wounds for His glory? How has He redeemed your own failings?
by Sarah Markley
:angel: :angel:
Breaking From The Herd
Jul 12, 2012 01:25 am | pwilson
Pete Wilson is the founding and senior pastor of Cross Point Church in Nashville, Tennessee, a committed church community that he and his wife, Brandi, planted in 2003. Empty Promises is Pete's much anticipated second book. Pete earned his Bachelors degree in Communications from Western Kentucky University and attended seminary at Southern Seminary in Louisville, KY. He enjoys spending time with Brandi and their 3 boys, hunting, gardening and football.
***
Here's a confession. Criticism often crushes me.
Why? Because I'm tempted to live for the approval of others instead of trusting Christ.
Following Christ with all your heart is tough. Sometimes God calls you...
to take risks
to stand up against things
to go against the flow
to do something remarkable.
But when you live for the approval of others you limit your life to following the herd. You see, most people feel safest when they're in the middle of the herd. What happens when you break off to follow a God prompt, to take a risk, is the herd will criticize you until you fall back with the rest of the crowd. The approval addict is destined for a life of mediocrity because they always have to follow the herd.
I'm not a fan of criticism. I honestly think it's just a cowardly form of self praise but it's part of life. We're surrounded by a lot of hurt people.
So we all have an important decision to make. Are we going to allow the voices of criticism to define us or the voice of the one who gave His very Son for our salvation.
Today I want you to live authentically. And by that I mean, the practice of letting go of who you think you should be in order to embrace who God's calling you to be.
Listen, choosing to be "real" over being "liked" will not be the safest thing you do today, but it might be the most God honoring and rewarding.
Do you know why so few people live like this? It takes tremendous courage. You are constantly bombarded by a culture (sometimes even in the church) that is doing its best, day and night, to make you anybody but yourself. That's why authenticity is the cry of all but the game of few. Letting go of who we think we're supposed to be and embracing who we are in Christ is one of the most courageous battles that we'll ever fight.
It takes courage to be authentic because it takes courage to admit you're not perfect.
It takes courage to be real about your weaknesses, knowing you will not live up to people's expectations of who they think you should be.
It takes courage to break from the herd.
It takes courage to say "I love you" first.
It takes courage to try something when you don't know if you'll be successful at it.
It takes courage to create art.
It takes courage to ask for help.
Giveaway: Answer this question to enter to win one of two copies of Empty Promises.
Do you ever struggle with looking to the approval of others to give you what only God can give you?
***
You can find Pete on his Blog here, along with other Empty Promises Resources.
:angel:
My Mess is the Perfect Place for His Glory
Jul 12, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
"You inspire me" she says as she hands me a bag full of baby clothes for Mercy House. "I wish I could be like you, but I'm just a mom."
Her words sounded like an apology.
I offered a feeble smile.
Because at the moment, I didn't even want to be me.
I was still beating myself up over how I started the day. Before 9 am, I'd lost my temper with my kids. I was rude to my husband and irritated with, well, the planet.
When the house was finally quiet and I'd said my "I'm sorry's" I put my head on my desk and cried. I knew my family would forgive me, they always do. But I have the hardest time forgiving myself.
But this is me: a tangled mess of humanity-more failures than successes.
This is what I really wanted to say to that sweet mama, ten years younger than me, standing at my door, looking in my life, like I had it all together:
I need you to see me, really look at me. I'm no different than you. I'm a mom and wife and sometimes I not very good at either. I have dirty piles of laundry that match the dirty places in my heart. Even though I said yes to a dream much bigger than myself, I struggle everyday trying to find God in the mess. And sometimes that mess is me.
It's okay to apologize for what you've done, but not for who you are.
I think we look at people doing something brave and we tell ourselves, we could never do that. I've said the same thing to myself a dozen times. I truly believe this is a lie that is meant to discourage us and keep us paralyzed.
When we maximize others, we minimize ourselves. In God's eyes, we're all the same.
So, when someone calls me brave or inspiring, especially on days like today, I feel like such a failure. Not just for my obvious mistakes, but for making it appear that I'm something I'm not.
I hope my ugly humanity challenges others to do something extraordinary for Him.
Because if God can use me to inspire another mom while I'm deep in the trenches of motherhood, He can use anyone.
Print this out and tape it to your bathroom mirror:
I am His.
I am enough today.
My mess is the perfect place for His Glory
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel: :angel:
Spark of Hope
Jul 12, 2012 01:10 am | Kaelynn Judd
Psalm 147:3-5, "He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name. Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit."
She sits alone on the cold bathroom floor, with sobs choking her breathing and shaky hands writing frantically. She does not say a word, but the emptiness in her eyes is screaming loudly. Her pen sloppily writes a farewell letter. It says that she can no longer cope. It explains how she has struggled with depression. It shamefully describes her battle with self-injury. Her words are both desperate and bitter. She sighs as she places the letter carefully on the floor.
She moves slowly and deliberately to the bathtub. She lowers her body into the hot water and grabs a razor blade. She desperately tries to take her own life, but just as she finally gains the courage to lower the blade onto her arm, her cell phone rings. Before her mind can comprehend what is happening she has already answered the call. She breathes heavily as she listens.
"Are you okay? I don't know why, but I just had a horrible feeling that something was wrong."
She chokes down a sob. "I'm fine. Just a bad day."
The conversation lasts only a few more seconds and then she is alone again. However, something has changed. A tiny flame of hope has begun to spark in her heart. Perhaps God hasn't given up on her after all. How did that acquaintance know something was wrong? They had hardly spoken.
She drains the tub, quickly dries off her body, and shreds the letter. She throws the torn pieces into the toilet and watches them swirl and disappear.
That is what I remember when I look back six years ago. I was a mess of both physical and emotional scars. I had given up on God and traded my faith in Him for dark addictions and seclusion. However, although I had given up on God, He never gave up on me. He had an amazing adventure planned for my life although I couldn't see it at the time.
Within months of that suicide attempt I would be on a bus to Brazil where God would call me to full time missionary work. A year later I would be speaking at an addiction rehab center in Costa Rica, sharing my story and watching a full grown man cry as he traced self-inflicted scars on his arms. A year after that I would be in Zambia spending a month with an unreached tribe. After that, I would be in Belize serving beside my fiancé (the man who called me in the bathroom) as we painted broken-down homes. The next year I would be with my husband in Brazil as God pieced together the final preparations for us going onto the field full-time.
That brings us to 2012. My husband and I are watching as God miraculously weaves together His plan for our lives. I have never been so happy and so content. Sure I still struggle from time to time. I still wear the scars of my past failures and sometimes I doubt God's plan, but I can tell you this. God has never given up on me. Even when I denied Him and relied on my own strength to solve my problems, He still had plans for me.
Regardless of what you have been through. No matter how broken you are. God has a plan for your life. Just be patient.
By: Kaelynn Judd
:angel: :angel: :angel:
A Reminder to Depend Like a Child
Jul 13, 2012 01:20 am | Jessica Turner
It's the weekend and, like I do every weekend, I sit, with my computer on my lap, loading photos and selecting the "bests" from the week before.
Walking into school, wearing his backpack
Driving his "race car"
Her first birthday
Hugging after bath time
Bubbles
Little moments of joy that make a week.
That make a life.
She just turned one and he is days away from four.
The two of them are already the best of friends and experience more joy from a bathtub of bubbles than I sometimes experience in a day. I can't help but marvel at the blessing of being their mother and the burden of doing it "right."
They depend on me for everything.
Thoughts of the weight of motherhood lead me to cross.
How I can't do it on my own.
The greatness of the love of our Father.
It's funny how God uses the ordinary to teach the extraordinary.
The more I think about the importance of pouring into the two little lives God has blessed me with, the more I realize how much He wants to pour into my own life.
This is such a simple truth that I need constant reminding of – as my Father, God desires for me to depend on him the way my kids depend on me.
As an adult, with so many things stretching me thin, I often start depending on myself and others – but not my Father God.
But thankfully, God knows those struggles and extends much grace. He gently uses simple photos from my week to remind me that He is there, and that I will be able to experience full joy when I depend on Him.
How does God remind you to depend on Him?
:angel: :angel:
I'm Weird, Are You?
Jul 14, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
Our twelve year old rolled her eyes at me as I descended down the stair case on the way to my self imposed "Tacky Day."
"You're weird, Mom."
I guess in that moment I had delusions of grandeur, and that was not the Scarlet O'Hara entrance for which I was hoping. But then our eight year old rushed to my side, with arms wide open declaring, "I think you so cool, Mom."
Yes, that's more like it.
I pondered their opposite reactions that day. What happened in the span of those four short years when "Cool" was so quickly replaced by "Weird?"
This exchange brought me back to my own tender teen years when people's perceptions far outweighed the fun of spontaneity.
When the pull of conformity over ruled individuality.
When influence rooted group think and apathy, rather than bold steps towards innovative leadership.
Now as a grown woman, I look around at my peers, and realize that their response isn't that much different than my eldest daughter. I'm considered "weird" by many.
A few years ago, I had a discussion with Josh McDowell about "the church" as it is today. As I shared my frustration regarding the difficulty in distinguishing the actions of the world from those in the church, and its apathy, he shared this fact.
Decades ago, the most notably quoted bible verse was John 3:16, now it's Matt. 7:1 "Do not judge, or you too will be judged," which quoted on it's own, is completely out of context.
As "the church," many are caught between this delicate balance of attempting to be cool and relevant, while not being too weird or offensive. Without getting into debates on the varying church models, I turn introspective to where I am called.
If I had to choose, I would rather be weird any day.
I want to live large for Him, but I wrestle with how that plays out on a daily basis.
Christ's perfect model never guarantees comfort. In fact, He requires sacrifice, and with that often comes challenges, change, and the need for a big douse of courage. Yet, His bridge building techniques spanned chasms of hostility, indifference, and apathy.
I want that! You should want that.
We must look different.
I want to nail my colors to the mast, so that there's no doubt where my allegiance stands. My desire is to create the aroma of Christ that draws others to the fact that our lives are different, our families are different, and for that, there is only one reason.
So how do we dream those big dreams of creating irresistible influence, yet make them reality?
I am starting right where I am in my own core circle of influence.
My desire is to be known as a friend who guards confidences, and when gossip begins, I end it immediately, and point people to the biblical model. Gossip has such a strong hold among women. Sometimes we don't even realize we are in the middle of it, and we don't see the damage occurring. I want people to know that their reputations are safe with me.
My desire is to be a help mate to my husband, and build up the sanctity of marriage, when so many try to derail it. Bottom line, marriage is hard work and half of all marriages are ending in divorce.
My desire is to be a mother who continually points her children to the infallible word of God as the only truth, the only answer to all cultural, political and societal answers. I want to be a mother who loves and encourages unconditionally, yet delicately balances grace and truth when they fail. With their world and life view being challenged at every intersection, this solid foundation is something that takes time, but that can't be overlooked.
My desire is to encourage women to embrace their role as a Family Manager by sharing creative and relevant ways to live a beautiful life on a budget. (Yes, and many of those might be classified as "weird". :) )
My desire is to expose the lies that we have any hint of perfection going on in this life. I am one huge mess, and that's why I need my Savior so desperately.
I could go on and on as I share ways in which my desire to live counter culturally is just plain weird.
In fact, think back to your high school years. Who are the people you remember most fondly? I bet it wasn't even the "cool" kids.
As I tell our twelve year old, "Know who you have been created to be," (and then I might slide in something like, "and lighten up, it's fun being weird."
Always remember, as His precious daughters, you are fully and uniquely accepted, attractive, significant, and most of all loved!!
Bottom line, I'm weird, are you?
Plant your flag firmly, nail your colors to the mast, and declare it.
I'd love to hear it.
shared by Jen, a woman in passionate pursuit of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam.
:angel:
A Tour That Works For Everyone
Jul 16, 2012 01:25 am | Jennifer De Groot
Jennifer De Groot co-authored That Works for Me! with Kristen Welch. She lives in Western Montana with her hilarious husband, preschool-aged daughter, and infant son. She makes frequent trips to the library and her in-laws' candy store, but her current passport is empty.
***
When I was a senior in high school, I went to Europe. My class and I took a guided tour through an absurd number of countries, led by an energetic, red-headed polyglot named Francesca. I loved waking up, eating a continental breakfast (with Nutella, of course), and lumbering onto the tour bus. Each morning the elderly bus driver greeted me with, "Ciao, Bella." Sometimes Francesca would narrate as we drove through the countryside; other times she'd hand us off to a museum tour guide who was an expert in his field.
I still have great memories of that trip, but when I became a stay-at-home mom, I wished for a practical tour of modern homemaking. I knew I wasn't the first mom having trouble with the transition.
I knew I was onto something when I found the Works for Me Wednesday blog carnival. Having seen the Mona Lisa didn't help me finish my dishes any faster. Reading posts from Works for Me Wednesday did.
When Kristen and I started working on this project, we looked at over 50,000 hyperlinks and wondered, What if we put together an ultimate blog tour guide to the best information that's been posted? What if we could help other women save time, money, and energy with proven tips?
As we found these nuggets of wisdom, we kept thinking how nice it would have been to have this information back when we started out as young women, brides, and new moms.
We call our tour That Works for Me! It includes over 800 tips in 24 very practical homemaking categories, from organization to gifts to gardening. Although we provide a synopsis of each tip, we couldn't offer the tour alone. We joined forces with over 300 bloggers for their expert advice. No one blogger had it all figured out, but collectively, we knew a lot.
Since this is a self-guided tour, we wanted to make sure you didn't get lost, so all of the posts are obsessively organized and hyperlinked for easy access. You can visit the links in any order at your leisure — and return to them whenever you wish.
We wanted to make it affordable, so each e-book costs $8, less than a day's pass to the London Underground.
Despite where you are in your journey, there's a little something in here for you.
If you're just starting a family, check out the Baby section. If you're trying to build your blog, read some Blogging tips. If you're going on a trip soon, see our Travel links. If you're only able to dream about a vacation right now, we have a recipe for homemade Nutella (Tip 712) and a romantic way to start saving (Tip 304).
Although we hope you join us, none of the posts we included are proprietary. The information is all out there in blogland, just as you can explore the streets of Europe on your own. We're just offering you the tour experience.
The tour bus is waiting for you. Ciao, Bella.
Buy your ticket today.
By: Jennifer De Groot
Read More | Leave a Comment
The Awe Factor
Jul 16, 2012 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
Last month, I Instagrammed the photo above. I was in Australia, and the sun was rising to a new day in the land Down Under. Soon after, my husband Kyle commented: "That must be part of the same sunset I'm seeing right now!"
I shivered. He was watching the sun being pulled down our global orb over in Oregon, and I was watching the same star being stretched up on the other side. 15 time zones away, and I was starting a new day when his day was ending back in time. It kinda made my brain explode.
The day before, I went SCUBA diving in the Great Barrier Reef. I saw single fish bearing multiple neon colors; I touched the velvet soft of the interior of a giant clam. These were things most humans don't see on a daily basis. These colors and textures were not there to serve me.
I then thought about the wombats and the cassowaries and the kangaroos and the koalas and the sea turtles. This island is home to over one million plant and animal species, much of it native only to Australia.
Scientists guess there are somewhere between three and 30 million animal species on our planet. Many have yet to be discovered.
And then I watched this in my hotel room later that night, tucked away in the Australian rainforest. And I worshipped God:
His creativity, His hugeness, His omnipotence knows no bounds.
In what ways does God's handiwork give you pause to worship? What's the most spectacular piece of creation you've ever seen?
:angel:
That Works For Me {Giveaway}
Jul 17, 2012 01:25 am | Kristen Welch
tip (noun) \ˈtip\
-a piece of private or secret information
- a useful hint or idea; a basic, practical fact
The ebook, That Works For Me! is full of secrets, more than 800 to be exact!
For more than five years, the blog carnival, Works For Me Wednesday has been a hub of helpful tips for every area of a busy woman's life. Hundreds of bloggers link up every week and thousands of tips have been shared over the past years.
This e-book offers a categorized, organized place for hundreds of practical, "aha!" tips to make your life run smoother. That Works For Me! is a celebration of the WFMW community, with tips from hundreds of different blogs.
It won't organize your linen closets or remove stains, but this e-book will offer you a good place to start. We've searched and compiled and created an organized e-book with 24 popular categories, featuring the best of tips in each group.
Click to Buy a copy today.
You want to know how to take care of makeup brushes? Curious how to make a scarf wreath? How about how to plant grass over concrete? This is the book for you. I love the Internet because it truly is the world's hive mind; the ultimate chat-over-the-fence-with-your-neighbor neighborhood. And this book has compiled the best of the best tips in one place! I love that, and I love that it supports an amazing ministry. Every household could use this book. It's worth every penny.
-Tsh Oxenreider, blogger behind SimpleMom.net and author of One Bite at a Time: 52 Projects for Making Life Simpler
Today, we are giving away FIVE copies of the ebook (retail $8 each) to five lucky commenters. Just leave a comment with your favorite tip for a chance to win! Winners will be announced on Friday.
Kristen Welch, We are That Family
Read More | Leave a Comment
Growing Pains
Jul 17, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver
Last night, I screamed at my daughter, consoled myself with a handful of M&Ms and a huge bowl of cereal (the sugary kind I hide in the pantry), and ended the night by skimming through 11 chapters of Psalms to catch up on my Bible reading plan. I went to sleep mentally drafting an apology email for one of the many deadlines I've missed recently and wishing desperately for a cleaning fairy to take care of the kitchen full of dirty dishes just down the hall. And did I mention that, for the millionth night in a row, I did not step on my treadmill (despite the 5K a mere two weeks away)?
Some days, I really can't get anything right.
But these things, these little things that aren't actually life-altering or -ending, are infinitely easier to confess and address than the more serious transgressions I face in rare moments of honest reflection. It's easy – especially when I'm busy putting out fires and doing damage control for all those little things I mentioned – to ignore the pings of conscience and Holy Spirit, to sweep my sin under the rug, to simply avoid the truth of my soul.
It's easier to ignore it, after all. Who likes to be reminded of her mistakes? Who is comfortable facing her failures? In the moment when we come face to face with our deepest failings, it's tempting to look away, to move on, to pretend like that clarity never happened. Isn't it?
I'm reminded of the way I trained myself to play the piano when I was an accompanist several years ago. When you're the back-up music behind a soloist or group of performers, you aren't supposed to make any mistakes. And if, heaven forbid, you do mess up, you're supposed to do everything you can to avoid drawing attention to your clumsy fingers.
Don't make a face. Don't over-correct and hit more wrong keys. And whatever you do, don't stop.
As an accompanist, I learned the art of covering up my mistakes and carrying on as if nothing had happened. However, by not acknowledging the mistake and correcting it, I often learned the piece of music incorrectly. So instead of covering up the wrong note and moving on, I drilled the wrong note into my head and hands and proceeded to make the same mistake every time I played.
Somewhere along the way, I've adopted this same habit for the mistakes I make in life.
Don't show emotion. Don't try too hard to fix it. And whatever you do, don't stop.
See, I think that's the key (no piano pun intended!). When we don't take time to stop and reflect on our hearts and our choices what God might be trying to tell us, we can't grow. Painful as it may be to fully admit our failures and come to God and those we've hurt on bended knee to beg forgiveness, we must do it. We can't joke our way out of it or blame our way out of it or cross our fingers and hope-they-never-notice-what-we-did our way out of it.
Maybe this is an easy discipline for you. Perhaps you're completely comfortable admitting your missteps and taking full responsibility for the damage you've caused. But for me, as a barely recovering perfectionist, this is so hard.
Even though I write and talk about giving up on perfect, I still find myself believing that while I may not be perfect, I'm pretty close. I try so hard and I'm a good girl and I do all these things and – BAM! It's right about then that I get smacked in the face with a realization or confrontation about some way I have failed big time. And finding out I'm not doing so great, that I've fallen short, to feel it in my gut like a pile of bricks? It can be devastating to this not-so-recovered perfectionist.
And that's where the growing pains come in. In the past several months, my eyes have been opened several times to something significant I've done wrong or not understood or simply didn't know. Each time, I've struggled with accepting my need to grow because to grow means to admit I wasn't perfect before. But until I stop and acknowledge my need for growth (or repentance or change), I'm going to keep making those same mistakes over and over.
Change is hard. But it's so necessary and, in the end, well worth it. In the meantime, though, growing can be painful.
Have you ever experienced these kind of growing pains? How do you deal with the realization that you need to grow or change? Is it hard for you to face your failures head on, fully enough to really deal with them?
Read More | Leave a Comment
The Walls of My Home Are My Constant Companion
Jul 17, 2012 01:15 am | C.C. Almon
As my 12 year old daughter Damaris and I participated in the (in)RL conference several weeks ago, I cried buckets watching Sara's story.
I cried for numerous reasons.
I wished I had known Sara before she journeyed into Heaven. I grieved with those who were so affected by her words and those who hold Sara close in their hearts. And finally, I cried for me. You see, I could relate to Sara's story because I spend much of my time homebound.
Homebound, that's a word that I would never have imagined would describe me. Such a strange word, so sad, so foreign, so isolating, so alone.
I mean, I'm 34 years old. I've been married for almost 15 years and have an almost 13 year old daughter. I loved to run and swim and spend time with friends and family and as much time as I could with our church community.
All that has changed because I now have several chronic illnesses, the worst of these by far being fibromyalgia (a disease which includes many issues such as chronic widespread pain, fatigue, and sleep, memory, and mood problems). I went from doing the work I truly loved (working full-time as a hospital chaplain) to being in a wheelchair most of the time in order to work to not being able to work at all.
My life has drastically changed.
Now, I typically leave the house only one or two times a week for only a few hours at a time (to attend church when I feel up to it and to go to the yarn shop), and only after resting up for days in order to venture out. I have moved from having a very active life full of ministry, exercise, getting together with friends, etc. to spending most of my time in bed or my recliner being taken care of by my hubby and daughter.
Watching Sara's story, I connected with what we have in common.
But Sara and I have a difference as well:
~Sara didn't let her illness stop community from happening
but I have been letting my illness stop community from happening.~
I have allowed my pain and fatigue and the walls of my home to become my cave. I venture out every once in awhile when I am at the place where I just can't stay inside any longer, but then it's back to my dark corner where I feel alone and not heard and not seen.
Seeing Sara choose joy in spite of her circumstances, in spite of her health, in spite of everything that could have stopped her is giving me a new perspective. Honestly though, it is a struggle. It is hard to find community when the walls of your home are your constant companion.
I know I am not alone in this struggle. And so I write these words, knowing there are others within the (in)courage community that are in similar situations. Sisters, let's choose to choose joy and come together to form the community that we all need, that Sara found, and journey through this life together.
By C.C. Almon, "I'm On My Way ~ my journey as a Christ follower, wife, mamma, & fibromylagia fighter"
Image Credit: Home Alone by lobbiaz on Flickr
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Mother Letters: Sharing the Mess and Glory
Jul 18, 2012 01:25 am | Amber Haines
Mother Letters is art in the form of stories, letters and photos from many hearts to yours. Words and images heard and understood in the soul, now articulated about every stage of motherhood.
Mothers are curators. These letters are about capturing the messy, glorious masterpieces that you are creating. God-Art is in the person and the stories lived there.
Find joy and comfort in this collection. Feel strengthened, empowered. It's a mosaic of authentic life, a living poem. Together, we are encouraged.
***
Dear Mother,
I am writing to encourage you and I'm praying that my words encourage me. I'm just a mom, like you, with three young children. Except we spend a lot of time in the emergency room and making scenes at Walmart.
I don't know if I have any profound wisdom or life-‐changing advice. (Because frankly, while I'm typing this, my toddler is applying diaper rash cream to her hair. And my arm.)
But I will tell you what I know today:
I know that God chose me to mother my kids.
I know He sustains me, grants me wisdom, and forgives the parenting mistakes I make.
I know that the Spaghetti-o stain will never come out of my rug.
I know that this is what it's all about. This messy house. This day. This moment.
I know that if I wait for it to get better, for my kids to get older, for my gourmet-‐chef-‐gene to kick in, I will miss it all. And I know that I don't want to miss a second of it.
- Kristen Welch
Free Download for you:
{Subscribers, Click here to view}
Read: Our Story
Buy: Mother Letters: Sharing the Mess & Glory
Watch: E-Book Trailer
By: Amber, The RunaMuck
:angel:
Best Worst Thing
Jul 18, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
I failed at being a wedding planner.
No one wants a planner who gets so undone by the neurotic mother-of-the-bride that she throws up in the parking lot right beside the guest sidewalk.
Really, nothing says, "welcome to my wedding" quite like that.
I failed at being a kitchen gadget saleswoman.
No one wants to see the tip of a thumb sliced off into the veggie pizza at the exact moment I was promising how safe this gadget is.
Awesome.
I failed at being a cafeteria lady at a private school.
My assistant decided her arms were so dry she needed to coat herself with our spray butter. When we took the trash out later that day, we both got attacked by bees and forgot about the pizza in the oven.
Kids don't take kindly to burnt pizza.
I failed at being a receptionist.
It's never a good idea to just succumb to those sleepy afternoon feelings and lay your head down on the desk.
Bosses don't like workers who snore—even if they are pregnant.
Yes, I failed at a lot during those years where I was trying to figure out what to do with my life. At the time each of these things felt like the worst that could have happened. Now, I think they were the best worst things.
Had these things been successful, I would have never discovered the joy of being in the ministry I'm in now.
I see this same theme woven throughout many stories in the Bible.
In Matthew 8:23-24 we find Jesus getting into a boat with His disciples. "Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat." Worst thing.
But in verse 26 Jesus got up and rebuked the winds and waves and things turned completely calm. The disciples were amazed. Best worst thing.
In Acts 5:12 we find the apostles being arrested and thrown in jail. Worst thing.
But in Acts 5:13 we find an angel of the Lord opening the doors of the jail and bringing them out. Later we find them with so much confidence they boldly proclaim, "We must obey God rather than men!" (v. 29) Best worst thing.
I don't understand why we have to go through cruddy stuff. And I certainly know there are many worse things to go through then what I've mentioned here.
We live in a broken world full of broken people. But isn't it comforting to know God is never broken? He isn't ever caught off guard, taken by surprise, or shocked by what happens next.
He can take our worst and add His best. We just have to make the choice to stay with Him and keep following Him through it all.
Even neurotic mothers-of-the-bride who make wedding planners' stomachs work in reverse-can become best worst things.
After all, she gave me some great examples to pull from nearly 20 years later while writing Unglued. Oh I kid. Kind-of.
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel: :angel:
Mother Letters: Fly
Jul 19, 2012 01:25 am | Mandy
Mother Letters is art in the form of stories, letters and photos from many hearts to yours. Words and images heard and understood in the soul, now articulated about every stage of motherhood.
Mothers are curators. These letters are about capturing the messy, glorious masterpieces that you are creating. God-Art is in the person and the stories lived there.
Find joy and comfort in this collection. Feel strengthened, empowered. It's a mosaic of authentic life, a living poem. Together, we are encouraged.
***
Dear Mother,
I have struggled with what to write because there is so much I would want to share: the pain of infertility and of missing someone you've never even met; the whimpering of the 3-year-old mouths; the awe of listening to your own little child's voice as she reads her first book.
But, the truth is, the longer I am a mother, the less I know what you need to hear.
So I have settled upon sharing with you the truth that guides me— that my daughter does not belong to me. That my job is simply to raise her safely and as happily as I can so that she may fly toward a future of her making.
In the moments when my girl and I are knocking heads over whether she will wear a particular skirt, or whether she will taste the greens on her plate, in those moments when my head really just wants to explode, I have to bring myself back to the letting go. Sometimes, it is an hourly chore, for letting go is not my default, but rather a place I purposely seek.
I grew up in the warm bosom of a tribe that moves with the beat of accents and tildes, a people exiled from its own home and country. It was a childhood of many kisses, big sweaty gatherings with tias and tios and cousins twice removed, and so many delicious Sundays at the beach. I often wish I could give the same loud life to my child, save for some of the rules and expectations.
Even now, I don't know if it is because they're Cuban, or just because they are who they are, but in my family there was a lot of "porque, si" and "porque, no," which basically translates to "Because." Just because. I am pretty sure my tribe would not embrace Gibran.
While I do not wallow in regret– especially when it comes to the dance of mothering– I have a few "what ifs" and times in my life when I bowed my head, followed the rules and did what was expected, not what satisfied my spirit.
And so, as I look upon my dark-haired child, so curious, so head-strong, so much herself, I know my greatest gift to her is to stand by and watch her grow into whom she is supposed to be. She came through me and I marvel at the knowledge that while in my womb she breathed because I breathed.
But she breathes deeply on her own now.
And the truth of that frees me to trust the arrow will land where it will.
Much love and peace,
Carrie Ferguson Weir
Free Download for you:
{Subscribers, Click here to view}
Mothers Letters is a collection of letters written by mothers for mothers. Curated by Amber and Seth Haines in partnership with Squee!, it's for every mama who needs to know she's not the only one. Read the complete story behind Mother Letters and get the ebook here.
By: Amber, The RunaMuck
:angel:
On Hostessing
Jul 19, 2012 01:15 am | The Nester
Being a good hostess has nothing to do with how well furnished your guest room is. Or if you even have a guest room. And I just put that pretty picture at the top of the post so the next picture wouldn't scare anyone off too fast.
The lovely Holley Gerth, Stephanie Bryant (two of the founders of (in)courage) and my sister Emily Freeman are all spending the night at my house tonight. And this is the state of the "guest room" as of a few days ago. Think they can all fit on that mattress on the floor?
I actually do have a bed ordered for this room but shipping was delayed and it was no big deal. I know Stephanie will sleep just as well with a mattress on the floor as she would if it were two feet higher.
And Holley will be fine in the twin bed across the hall.
My poor sister might have to put up with some snoring but at least my bed is really comfortable. Besides we grew up sharing a bed so we are used to it.
I used to really worry about my house when I had people over but I've learned that having a perfect looking house doesn't really facilitate whatever it is I want to foster with friends anyway. I want us to connect, rest, have fun, eat delicious food, laugh and just be.
Lucky for me I don't need to have a matching comforter set to make that happen.
Now I'm off to do a little cleaning, because as much as it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful, it does need to be clean to smell good!
Want more hosting inspiration? Read the best post ever written in the history of the world about hospitality.
Do you have fond memories of a gracious hostess? What is it about your visit that you remember?
By: The Nester
:angel: :angel:
On Hostessing
Jul 19, 2012 01:15 am | The Nester
Being a good hostess has nothing to do with how well furnished your guest room is. Or if you even have a guest room. And I just put that pretty picture at the top of the post so the next picture wouldn't scare anyone off too fast.
The lovely Holley Gerth, Stephanie Bryant (two of the founders of (in)courage) and my sister Emily Freeman are all spending the night at my house tonight. And this is the state of the "guest room" as of a few days ago. Think they can all fit on that mattress on the floor?
I actually do have a bed ordered for this room but shipping was delayed and it was no big deal. I know Stephanie will sleep just as well with a mattress on the floor as she would if it were two feet higher.
And Holley will be fine in the twin bed across the hall.
My poor sister might have to put up with some snoring but at least my bed is really comfortable. Besides we grew up sharing a bed so we are used to it.
I used to really worry about my house when I had people over but I've learned that having a perfect looking house doesn't really facilitate whatever it is I want to foster with friends anyway. I want us to connect, rest, have fun, eat delicious food, laugh and just be.
Lucky for me I don't need to have a matching comforter set to make that happen.
Now I'm off to do a little cleaning, because as much as it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful, it does need to be clean to smell good!
Want more hosting inspiration? Read the best post ever written in the history of the world about hospitality.
Do you have fond memories of a gracious hostess? What is it about your visit that you remember?
By: The Nester
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Beauty In The Woman I Never Knew
Jul 19, 2012 01:10 am | Lauren Ruef
There's something in the heart of a woman that responds when she is noticed. It's that hint of enjoyment when a photograph catches her good side, that wisp of hair hinting at beauty. It's far too subtle to be vanity—it's akin to that feeling of looking at a nice sunset or admiring the joy of a child; unexpected and lovely.
Some deep cavern inside her heart fills up as she lingers on the photograph—it echoes a remembrance of something stuffed inside the trunk of her memory. It's like a melody she can hear inside her head but can't think up the words to. She looks again and notices the curve of her lower lip, the arch of her brow and that particular way her hands are folded her lap. It's the memory of her mom.
I came to know my grandmother Marie by way of photograph. We never met but she might have touched me once or twice as I swelled in my mom's belly. I've seen her in black and white and even in my aunts when they look at me a certain way.
My grandmother was a quiet reservoir of thought. She wasn't one to speak her mind, especially about other people. She held her piece. When something was on her mind, she swept the kitchen, wordless and pacing. My grandfather was a truck driver, often on the road to support their growing family but unavailable to debrief her thoughts at the end of a long day.
She gave life to 16 children, all her own: ten girls, six boys in a healthy Catholic-sized family. Nowadays it would prompt some kind of chaotic reality TV show. But large families were a thing of the 1950's. Some people in their small town scorned my grandmother's refusal to use contraceptives, as if she would single handedly overpopulate the world.
She hardly had a room to herself or an ounce of alone time but nurtured her children to become kind people, not mere numbers in a line of many. It's not the kind of life many women would choose, but it was a beautiful picture of that first life giving vision God had for man and wife in Genesis: "Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it."
Grandma Marie died of breast cancer when my mom was 30. I wish I could sit at her kitchen table that housed pitchers brimming with milk and learn to bake bread by her side. She did things simple, living and loving in basic acts. She was a grand woman.
My mom recalls one Christmas Eve when my aunt fit my Grandma Marie in a fine purple suit, the likes of which no one had seen her in. It was a rare moment, the fabric fit her perfectly and she enlivened the room with her radiance. The hidden beauty of my grandma's quiet soul was a treasure to reveal, and a poignant moment not lost in my mother's memory.
A woman lives for these moments, for the hour she is recognized as feminine and lovely. My grandma Marie should've had more moments like this, but the demands of her everyday life made them infrequent. A woman affirmed in her beauty is something right and good. It's the way she should feel. In true form, it is not a vain or shallow thing but something to celebrate, dress up and call out when we see it in others. I wish I could celebrate my grandmother all dressed in purple like royalty. I wish I could hold her hand. But until we meet in the sweet company of our Savior, a photograph will have to do.
By Lauren Ruef, Echoes of Eve
:angel: :angel: :angel: :angel:
Are You Comfortable Wearing Forgiveness?
Jul 20, 2012 01:30 am | Angela Nazworth
A few days ago, I rediscovered a CD of praise music that I had not listened to in quite some time. One of the songs amid the collection is Tammy Trent's version of At the Foot of the Cross. It's a beautiful melody accompanied by piercing lyrics:
At the foot of the cross
Where grace and suffering meet
You have shown me Your love
Through the judgment You received
And You've won my heart
Yes You've won my heart
Now I can
Trade these ashes in for beauty
And wear forgiveness like a crown
Coming to kiss the feet of mercy
I lay every burden down
At the foot of the cross
I had listened to that song hundreds of times before, but on that day, the words " ... And wear forgiveness like a crown" sunk deep into my soul.
Sometimes I am more comfortable in wearing shame than I am wearing forgiveness. I often do this without realizing my error. Yet every time I wallow in guilt, curse my inadequacies and embrace defeat I am covering up the beauty of forgiveness that Christ won for me ... for mankind.
When I chose to wear forgiveness like a crown instead of cloaking myself with my own failures and shortcomings, I'm reduced and Christ is exalted and my confidence in who I am in Him and through Him is restored.
I John 2: 12-14
I am writing to you, dear children, because your sins have been forgiven on account of his name. I am writing to you, fathers,because you know him who is from the beginning. I am writing to you, young men, because you have overcome the evil one. I write to you, dear children, because you know the Father.
I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God lives in you, and you have overcome the evil one.
Are there times when you forget to wear your forgiveness?
:angel:
Trailblazer
Jul 21, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I saw a picture in my head one time as a friend told me a story of his trip through the jungle. He could see the path at his feet before him, but if he looked straight ahead, the brush was so thick that he couldn't see anything but the vines and leaves tangled at eye-level.
He was leading a team, and so it was up to him to use his machete [don't you know he LOVED telling me this part of the story] to chop at the overgrowth to make a way for his people to head down the path. He got scraped up a good bit, but, as he tells it, that was just a minor setback in the bigger story where he was the hero- yes, he called himself a hero – the story that there was a way to walk and it was up to him to make sure those behind him had clear access to travel.
. . . . .
I sat across the table in a coffee shop here in Nashville as a younger single girl told me of her aches and pains and the faith issues that, in her mind, were directly related to her singleness. [I. Hear. Ya. Sister.] She didn't cry, but I held a napkin in my grip because I thought for sure, at any moment, she would. She told me stories, many that I felt she was pulling from my own journal as a 20-something single Christian gal, and I told her what I never knew to tell myself.
I know.
It hurts.
But God has not forgotten you.
He is showing you His love for you, even now.
Believe Him. Believe His Word. Believe His heart.
She asked me why I started writing about singleness this year. What was it about my 31st year, she wondered, that made me finally want to talk about it.
"God." I said, "He just made it clear that this was the right time."
Without hesitation, she said, "I'm so glad. We all need trailblazers. Now that I see that you have done this, I genuinely think I can do it too."
I almost laughed. Trailblazer? Sister, if this is trailblazing, I am the most cut up, ill equipped, whiny leader a team has ever encountered.
I frustratingly hack away at the brush that cuts me on this path of singleness, the thorns of lies that try to penetrate my skin, the leaves of worry and the vines of loneliness that weave so tight before my eyes that the only way I can even know there is a way forward is by the path at my feet. [And even that isn't so comforting because I don't know where it leads.]
"Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path...." I sing in my head as the tears pour and I push forward on this trail.
I've never noticed the innocent young faces lined up behind me, watching the clearing process, and then walking through the openings that my toiling has created.
I never knew this was for them.
If that is the case, then every day I have wrestled with my singleness and the God who knows and loves me through it was so that others behind me would see and then know an easier path?
Then every day has been worth it.
. . . . .
You, my friend, married or single, you are blazing a trail with your life for the younger women behind you. They will have their own overgrowth to challenge them, and they will lead the way for others. But for today, would you be intentional about cutting back as much brush as you can?
Because you are making a way for them, saving them some pain that your bloodied arms prove is real, and honoring their footsteps by providing a clear path.
Never forget that as you are stepping forward with your life, you are a trailblazer.
Someone is watching.
May they learn to blaze with integrity, honesty, faith, and heart.
Much like you do.
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel:
When You Face The Place of Empty
Jul 22, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
I don't want to be one of those people.
Someone who is afraid. Someone who can't deal with hard things. Someone who has failed to overcome the things that could make me fall down.
But, here I was, unable to deny that –
I am afraid.
I think I am going to fail.
I'm discouraged and I can't find my way out.
What I'm really trying to say — what I'm terrified to face is this –
I can't make my place in this world.
And I'm afraid you're going to walk away from me.
You're going to turn your face away and shake your head.
And leave me here.
All alone.
Place of Empty
These are the words I found myself speaking in the dark room of my soul last week. You would've never known I had truly felt this way. Because quite honestly, I have never allowed myself stay in this place of empty for very long.
All my life, I've nurtured a determination to do whatever I could to never come close to this place of alonenness. I am a child of light. Why would I want to face into darkness? I believed that faith was relegated to creating a safe place for myself in this world and for the ones I love.
I never imagined that faith in Jesus is exactly what it takes to enter into this place of truth and vulnerability — this place of empty.
By the grace of God, Jesus knew it wasn't time for me to fully be in that place for most of my life. Jesus gave me a growing faith to survive and empowered me to have great joy to do lots wonderful and beautiful things with Him — and for Him — to serve and love Him. He's given me a deep passion to serve others, to enjoy people and extend an open heart of friendship, comfort and encouragement wherever I go.
But, recently, Jesus somehow led me on a path that He knew would place me at the doorway of fear and confusion.
Jesus knew I was strong enough to finally face the parts of me He wanted to love back to life: my wounded self.
Jesus knew I was going to experience my first panic attack.
And Jesus knew that I would no longer be able to provide for myself, using the strength and hope I have always drawn from.
He knew that I would no longer be able to create a safe place for myself in this world any longer.
Jesus knows because he's been there himself.
This place of alone.
Of truth and vulnerability.
This place of empty.
Heartsick
Did Jesus have panic attacks in the garden of Gethsamane?
I think maybe he could have.
"And being in agony... his sweat became like drops of blood, falling down upon the ground." Luke 22:44.
Jesus had escaped to a private place where He felt safe (Remember? The Jewish leaders had to pay Judas to buy this valuable piece of intel). Matthew tells us "Jesus fell on His face and prayed, saying "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me." (Matt. 26:39)
The Gospel of Mark gives us an exclusive look into a Jesus we rarely talk about: "He began to be very distressed and troubled." Overwhelmed by anxiety, Jesus confides to Peter, James and John. "My soul is deeply grieved to the point of death." (Mk.14:33,34)
Jesus is utterly heartsick, down where pain has never reached before.
No Other Way
Even though Jesus was in total control of His choice to become the scapegoat for sin, I think Jesus experienced desperation in this place of honesty.
Jesus cried out, "Abba! Father! All things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me...". (Mk.14:36) If there was any other way out, He wished for it then.
But there wasn't any other way.
I've been thinking a lot about Jesus as He faced this struggle.
His cry has been my cry. God, please. Anything but this. Isn't there any other way?
Jesus knew He had to face the toughest journey: being broken, feeling scared and enduring abuse. On every level — emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
Even though Jesus placed Himself willingly in God's rescue plan before the beginning of time, Jesus could not escape the place of empty. (Phil. 2:5-8)
I imagine Jesus falling to the ground, struggling to breathe, choking waves of tears, his body shaking, hot from crying his eyes out, his chest hurting from the intensity — and I ask, "How did you do it Jesus? How can I endure something so dark when I am not you?"
He Answers
Jesus answers me by allowing me to hear His voice — thick with sadness — crying in the garden of Gethsamne –
"... yet not my will, but Yours be done." (Matt. 26:39, Mk 14:26, Lk 22:42)
You can accept this Bonnie –
because I know how it feels when God's plan leads the world to see you as wounded. Broken.
I will give you the courage to accept this. You don't have to be strong. I will be strong for you.
Jesus points me to the scene of his betrayal, when Peter tried to stop Jesus from walking down the path of weakness,
"Put the sword into the sheath; the cup which the Father has given Me, shall I not drink it?" (Jn 18:11)
You can swallow this cup Bonnie –
because I drank from it myself. You don't have to fight it. It's time to drink it.
You can feel afraid with me. I will hold you and love you through it.
I look into Jesus' eyes. His gaze is aching. Tender with my pain.
In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus said, "Not my will...". Jesus had a will — and it was contrary to God's will — in that moment of weakness (Heb.5:7-10). It was the human side of Jesus, overwhelmed with the uncertainty of what He had to face. Jesus may have cried out, "What is going to happen to me?"
It is comforting because even as I take this cup in my hand, I don't want this.
Jesus understands this. He understands my fear — and how it makes me feel ashamed because of it.
Time and Again
Unlike me, Jesus did not sin in His temptation to avoid the place of empty. Jesus surrenders and says, "Not my will, but Yours be done."
I too want to get up immediately, like Jesus. To be resolute and face the reality of hard things. But, I want to do this act just once — when in fact, it's time and again we fall and rise with Jesus.
It's time and again. Just as Jesus falls and rises with us. Every day.
From sun up to sun down, Jesus walks with us. When we find we can't make a place for ourselves in this world, Jesus gently whispers –
Come here.
Collapse into my arms.
You can always stay here.
You don't have to go anywhere.
I am your place.
Here. With me.
This way.
Forever.
Are you facing the place of empty, where you once made a place of safety for yourself? Are you finding yourself holding a cup that you don't want to drink?
Maybe like me — you've always walked around that place of empty — or run away from it whenever you feel it brush by you?
If you're on the leg of your faith journey where your place of safety has become a place of uncertainty, Jesus is folding your hand into His today.
Let's embrace the reality of what has happened — what is happening — and what needs to happen.
This is a new kind of obedience, one of the highest calling that our sweet Lord Jesus had to embrace himself as well.
Surrendering to accept where God is leading us — especially into a place of loss and pain — is a surrender to trusting God as Abba, by yielding to His will and goodness in this way.
We don't have to be ashamed.
A Place For Us
No matter what is hurt or broken – whether it's our childhood, a relationship, career, marriage, children, health, finances or ministry — or it's our dreams and opportunities — this place of empty is never out of His reach.
I'm looking into your eyes to tell you Jesus is here. And He's not going away.
Jesus gathers us into His arms to a place where we are truly safe. Safe to experience our traumas, safe to be real, loved and accepted.
I'm smiling, as I show you my tears. We're alike you and me.
We are both stepping into a place of vulnerability.
We are exposing our hurts, so that we can feel the touch of His healing.
We are coming alive in our dying. And my friend, this is where Jesus is shining through – with new strength and new hope – to walk in new ways in this world.
You and I — we are one of those people.
We are safe, hidden in the heart of Jesus.
You and I — we have a story to tell.
Yes, you and I — He's prepared a place for us — the most beautiful place in this world.
It's Jesus in us.
~~~~~
"In the days of His flesh, Jesus offered up both prayers and supplications
with loud crying and tears to the One able to save Him...
Although He was a Son, He learned obedience from the things which He suffered."
Heb 5:7-10
~~~~~
"This hope we have as an anchor of the soul,
a hope both sure and steadfast
and one which enters within the veil [our hearts],
where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us.."
Heb 6:19-20
(Jesus has entered our hearts.
This is where our faith rests, hope that anchors us to God.
He is our place in this world.)
~~~~~
How has God led you to your Gethsemane — where you face the cup before you?
What is Jesus saying to you in this place?
Pull up a chair and stay awhile. Click here to share a comment.
I love hearing pieces of your story, as it's unfolded and unfolding in you today.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie at her blog as she journeys ahead with faith friends along the way.
:angel:
Launch A Life in Just A Minute
Jul 23, 2012 01:25 am | Wess Stafford
Wess is an internationally recognized advocate for children. Since 1977 he has worked with Compassion International, serving as their President since 1993. Wess' own life experiences have uniquely prepared him for his role. He often says, "Everything I really need to know to lead a multinational organization I learned from the poor, growing up in an African Village." Wess now lives on a small ranch near Colorado Springs, Colorado, with his wife Donna. They are the parents of two daughters, Jenny and Katie.
Just A Minute, Wess' second book, was released by Moody Publishers in January 2012. More information, including free study guides, can be found at http://www.justaminute.com
***
I sincerely believe an entire life can be launched with as little as a single phrase, an uplifting word or an act of kindness.
Who believed in you before you believed in yourself? Who said, "You have a beautiful voice; I loved your song," and now you sing for a living or get great joy from singing for others? Who said, "My, what a lovely picture you drew," and now you make your living as an artist?
For me, it was my father who first believed in me. He changed my life in one moment, one sentence, at the age of fourteen. My family had just arrived from Africa—the only country I had ever known—to the United States. While in Africa, I lost nearly half of my village friends to measles, malaria, smallpox, hunger, or snakebite. I had cried myself to sleep hundreds of nights after we buried my childhood buddies.
Now stepping off the ship that had carried my family across the Atlantic, I was a lost soul in this new and foreign place. I had been torn from a gentle African village to land a month later in the biggest, most intimidating metropolis known to humanity. I was shell-shocked.
A man was driving us to a church service one of those first days. My father was in the passenger seat, and I sat alone in the back. The driver glanced my way and said the familiar words, "So, Wesley, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
After a long, awkward pause, my father came to my rescue. "I've been watching Wesley for a long time," he said. "He has seen a lot of pain and a lot of suffering. He has a big heart...he loves helping people who are hurting."
I remember thinking, Really? Is that who I am? Is that what matters most to me? That was the end of the conversation, but not the end of the thought. In fact, it was the beginning for me. With those simple words, my life was launched!
Every life option now found meaning and purpose as it was put to the test of "How does it help people? If it doesn't, then is it even worth doing?"
My father's words echoed through the corridors of my life from that minute forward. Eventually, I found the ministry of Compassion International, where I could pour all my passion into my calling, my purpose, my mission.
Trust me, moments matter—for a lifetime.
Our lives are compiled of many minutes. If you're blessed enough to live out your full "threescore and ten years," you will have been given, from birth to death, the gift of nearly 37 million minutes. And each one spent in the presence of a child is a divine appointment. With each child you encounter, you have the power and opportunity to build up ... or, sadly, to tear down.
This is the foundation of my latest book Just a Minute, in which I share the stories of doctors, soldiers, international leaders, sports heroes, politicians and many more whose lives were indelibly marked by the words or actions of the adults in their lives. Through the stories of Colin Powell, Tony Dungy, Adolph Hitler and others, we see how an encouraging word, well-timed hug or hurtful comment can radically transform a childhood, or even the course of an entire life.
You don't have to be a teacher, a parent, a pastor, or a doctor to make a positive difference in the life of a child. You only have to be willing!
By: Dr. Wess Stafford
Giveaway: Answer the question(s) below in the comments and we'll choose 5 winners to win a copy of Just a Minute. Winners will be announced on Friday.
Has someone ever said anything to you that changed your life in just a minute? Is there something you can do today in just a minute that could change a child's life?
Learn more about Compassion International here and click here to purchase your copy of Just a Minute.
:angel:
Why It's Okay to Not Be Enough
Jul 23, 2012 01:00 am | Amber Haines
When they took my Titus to another room to insert the feeding tube, I felt flush all over, green. My milk wasn't enough. The food wasn't enough, and so they called it "starvation mode" and "failure to thrive," his one year old body the size of a 4 month old. My tiny buddy came back with a puffy, sad face covered in tape.
After having 3 sons before him, I had decided to really do it right this time. I ate and gave only organic foods, and I wanted to nurse him for as long as I could. The truth is that my list of how to do it the right way has grown very long, and the longer that list gets, the worse I am at doing anything well. All the homeschooling, gardening, nursing, and playing in the world wouldn't add up to enough for me.
In the hospital, I had to hold Titus' feisty arms down so he didn't pull out the tube. We had an intense and demanding job in that little room, and suddenly we were the needy ones. We couldn't care for our other boys. We couldn't water the tomatoes or go make a pot of coffee. We didn't have any meals for ourselves or for our children at home.
And how could I ask for help, when I'm positive that I've failed at being a giver. One of the things I've been asking from God is that He would make me a servant. It's one of those prayers I say, "I want to be better. Make me better."
Then He answers this request in the funniest way. He allows me a position where I'm able to do nothing. Then He surrounds me with dearest friends and family, some of whom have the very least in time, physical stamina, sleep, emotional wherewithal, or material possessions. He shows me how they stop and sit with me and my children in their not-enoughness. It seems to me that those who have the very least were the greatest givers.
One friend laid next to me on the hospital bed for a while. I had no idea at the time how just having her sit right next to me helped my heart. I look back and remember our legs right there together, backs against the pillow. We were laughing. She has no idea. None of them know.
Sometimes I think about Paul's thorn, how he must have thought to himself, "if only it were gone, I would finally be enough." If only my milk were better. If only I read more. If only my kitchen were bigger or we made more money. If only I were better with people or were more loving or wasn't so selfish ...
But God's response? "My grace is sufficient for you." When He says this, it's the same as saying, "Don't give me your excuses," while simultaneously saying, "You're not the one doing it anyway."
I suddenly feel so free to shirk the pretense that I could possibly have anything together, and I'm learning that boasting in this weakness – it's the gospel.
When we boast in our weakness, our hearts hurt for the struggles of others, and we are more willing to share even in our little. A sufficient grace makes our weaknesses our power. The accomplishments of others begin to seem right, and whatever I receive, I accept it with gratitude.
My temptation is to say that if I nurse him more or read the Bible more or pray harder, I'll be enough. Our temptation is always to say that our works are sufficient. But for me, let me tell you now, my marriage isn't sufficient and nor is my house. My kids, my friends, and my insurance plans aren't enough.
So when the mighty fall, when the rich go bankrupt, and the greatest dreams land broken, we can say to ourselves and to all the world what is true. His grace is sufficient. Power is perfected in weakness. Only after our deaths are we resurrected.
By: Amber, The Run a Muck
:angel: :angel:
Christianity Is The Gospel Of The Ungodly
Jul 24, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
"Christianity is the gospel of the failed, of the ungodly, the unable, the unwilling, who simply woke up one day invited to God's house and went. Period." John Lynch
A wind has been blowing through my world.
The Spirit, His Spirit, the One wrapped up with mine has been been shaking things up in my heart this week. He has been wooing me back to the heart of the gospel, the heart of what it means to be a Christian.
When He first wooed me I was a little girl. Tucked under covers and teddy bear under my arm, I asked "God" to find my sister. She had been taken by her father, so the story went, and my mom didn't know where she was.
I prayed that God would bring her back. And He did. My mom found my sister and I believed.
A seed is planted.
When I was in 8th grade I heard a Christian music tape, Clay Crosse, and I was blown away. I had never heard Christian music before, only hymns, and I prayed for what the man was singing about, I wanted it.
The seed sprouts.
I found myself in a church where there was singing and clapping and laughter and my spirit rejoiced. "People clap and sing for God? Why have I never seen this before?" I had found my people; I was where the Spirit was.
The dirt moved; it breaks.
I started going to Young Life in high school because it's where all the cool kids went on Wednesday nights. I heard about a man-God named Jesus and I fell in love.
Something green lifts towards the sun.
In college I joined the Navigators ministry and decided I would give my life to Jesus; I would follow Him. I knew I was a mess, and I was afraid He wouldn't love me, but He did. Mess and all. I became His.
She blooms.
God did not draw me to Him through my intellect, He wooed my heart and moved my spirit. When I first met my God, I was vulnerable and passionate; I couldn't get enough of Him, and I wanted everyone to know Him. But over the years I began to wall up my heart. I started letting voices in that said my mind was more important, and the scriptures must be adhered to as though they consisted of textbook facts. I lost my heart and began letting my mind lead. I grew colder, and I made many judgements on others and myself. I wanted to please God, I wanted to fight for Him and stand for truth. I needed meat; I was a "serious Christian."
I started trying to live in the ways I thought were godly. I tried and tried but man, I kept messing up. I was such a failure. Before I knew it, I was a shell of the woman I used to be.
Tired.
Lonely.
Burnt out.
No interest in church, no time to study the bible...if I even wanted to, that is.
Undone.
And then...
I felt it.
The wooing.
It is gentle and quiet, and so kind.
He reminds me that He wants me to have a heart of flesh, not of stone. He reminds me that He is pleased with me, just because I'm His. He reminds me that nothing I could do could make Him love me more and nothing I could do could make Him love me less. He reminds me that I am righteous, right now, because of Jesus.
He's always been there (He doesn't leave), but I forgot about my heart.
My new heart, the one that is not wicked or ugly. The one that is beautiful because it is infused with His.
Today, I remember my heart, and I let myself be in love.
And friend, it is absolutely, unequivocally,
freeing.
By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel:
This House Is Not My Home
Jul 24, 2012 01:10 am | Sarah Van Beveren
We rent the house that we currently call home. And while we save for a house of our own, I feel displaced and unsettled.
I tell myself that the reason for this is because it is not "ours." If it belonged to us then we could invest in the changes I long for.
An island for the kitchen. Hardwood on the stairs. A fresh coat of paint on the trim. Instead of putting money away for a down payment, I could use it to decorate and then our home would feel welcoming and wonderful. And if our house felt welcoming and wonderful, we could enjoy our life together more.
Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. (Psalm 90:1)
I need to remind myself that this house is not my home.
Too often I believe the lie that the things God has created are better than the Creator Himself. I look to the god of comfort for satisfaction, instead of the God of the Universe. I place my hope in throw pillows and duvet covers, golden calves throughout my home.
God has withheld no good thing. I have everything I need, and instead of looking to material possessions to soothe my soul, I need to run to Jesus, confess my blindness and thank him. Everything I have is evidence of God's scandalous grace. I'm not entitled to any of it, and I certainly don't deserve it.
What if the way my house looked was a reflection of the joy already present in my home, instead of using it to obtain that joy?
God is the creator of beauty and has gifted to us the ability to enjoy his creation, but the things we find lovely and comforting in this world should point us to Him. What is beautiful about them is that they are tangible expressions of His glory.
What if I looked around my house and believed truth, that everything is a blessing.
What if I was reckless and gave thanks for my empty kitchen, carpeted stairs, and chipping paint? These are gifts from a gracious Father, and he has blessed me with them and an abundance of more.
When my children are grown, I want them to feel nostalgic for their childhood. And while that will include memories of familiar blankets and baking in the kitchen, I pray that what will stand out in those moments is that God's heart was revealed to them. Where we loved, forgave, served, extended and received grace. Where out of our deep love for Christ, we became that which we were called to be: the hands and feet of Jesus.
For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. (2 Corinthians 5:1)
And so I will continue to decorate and create a warm space for my family. But I will do so as an overflow of the beauty of God through us. I will pray for the strength to reject the lie that these things themselves are necessary for beauty. And I will do so knowing that none of this compares to our true home and the treasure that awaits us.
By Sarah, Truth in the Journey
:angel: :angel:
There are so many things I'm not good at.
And apparently I have an inner monologue determined to record each and every one of them.
There's a voice in my head that tells me I am not enough. Some days it's quiet and some days it's super shouty.
It's the strangest thing, to discover the back of your brain muttering mean things to yourself.
The whisper is so soft, so ordinary, so normal by now that I rarely stop to investigate. I just let the words run through my veins until they seem like a normal part of my DNA.
This house will never be clean.
You'll never get caught up on the laundry.
Your words won't match up to hers.
You're not good enough.
You're never going to get caught up.
You can't do that.
You're just not good at this.
I heard that voice in the car today. I was sitting in a Panera parking lot in our minivan. Alone. Maybe that's why I listened without just letting it wash over me. Maybe that's why I tuned in to the nefarious whispering I'd been letting slide up until now.
I listened and I almost couldn't believe what I heard. I was surprised actually. Kind of amazed that I was capable of such petty meanness to myself. Because the thing about that voice is that it is a nit picker. It delights in destroying the DNA of a day, a dream, a moment bit-by-petulant-bit.
But when I tuned in it sounded more and more like static. Fuzzy, harsh, wirey, unforgiving. But small. My friend Holley calls it devil static – the noise that tries to drown out the truth God is speaking into our lives and through our lives. The noise that crackles and cackles and tries to poke fun at who we are growing up into; tries to derail us out of sheer embarrassment.
I told that voice off today.
Yes, I talked back to myself in an empty car.
Because I remembered that a Father-God who surely loved His Son with all the gut-fire with which I love my Jackson and Micah handed Him over to pay my ransom; to rescue me from a brutal kidnapping He sent His only Son unarmed into the drop spot.
We all know what happened when He arrived.
I called that voice out. And in doing so I could almost hear it deflate. I addressed that no-voice with my whole attention, with my God-inheritance, with my royal claim and I could hear the static fizzling.
I am not nothing.
You are not nothing.
We are daughters of the King. We are bought at a price. We are beloved.
And there is a much greater voice, a voice with all the rich, resonant tones of Truth so filled with love for us that unlike that devil static He
will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.
~Zephaniah 3:17
With singing.
Not hissing or criticizing or comparing or mocking.
With singing.
Much later I sit on a mattress as old as my marriage and just let that beauty sink in.
And a new song plays in the back of my head.
by Lisa-Jo, community manager for (in)courage and cheerleader for kind words.
:angel:
The Motive Trap
Jul 25, 2012 01:10 am | Chris Seay
Chris Seay takes every chance to celebrate and share his love of God with all who will listen. His many talents and leadership qualities allow this storyteller, pastor, writer, musician, husband, father, and son to compellingly convey the story of the absolute love of Jesus, the Liberating King to the church and culture.
In A Place at the Table, Chris Seay examines a culture built on consumption-especially of food- and how it is easy to forget the poor that Jesus cared so much about. Chris invites readers on a journey of self-examination, discipline, and renewed focus on Jesus that will change their lives forever.
***
In high school, I had one of the most unique and unusual jobs ever offered to a teenager. I worked for a recording company that produced and edited content for alcoholics anonymous. The bulk of my job was to attend AA meetings and record those sharing their stories or speaking to motivate a room of fellow strugglers in the battle with addiction. I can hardy imagine anything more life changing than this two year experience that immersed me in the culture of Alcoholics Anonymous and allowed me to hear some of the most life changing stories of my lifetime.
I remember being floored by the honesty and authenticity of those sharing their struggles with addiction and gaining amazing respect for the courage that it took to face an addiction that each man and woman seemed powerless to defeat on their own. I often pondered what it would feel like to be powerless against a substance, to begin to drink, and from that point forward to have no control over my actions, to be truly helpless.
Many decades later, I have a much better sense for what that feels like. I identify with the words of the Apostle Paul in Romans who says,
"I am not able to do the things I want; and at the same time, I do the things I despise."
I often feel an inner battle between what I know is good and what I'm actually going to do. If you are like me, one of the battle grounds of this war within is in the realm of food. I have found that at times I am powerless to my cravings for particular foods. I have unique fondness, you could call it an addiction, to Mexican food, specifically the chile con queso that's famously served up at many of my favorite restaurants in Houston, Texas. I have learned that if I begin to eat even one or two chips dipped in this delicious bowl of melted cheese, than I am unable to stop myself from finishing the entire bowl. For this reason, I have often struggled to lose the weight that I need to lose to be in my healthiest state.
When I have tried to control my cravings, I have learned exactly what Paul was talking about. The more I seem to focus on not giving into my cravings, the more I lean into excess and eat more than ever before. I know well now what it feels like to be one of those brothers and sisters in that circle at an AA meeting that feel totally out of control. Like Paul, I often wonder, who will free me from this body that struggles with sin and lack of self-control.
What I have learned in recent years is that when I focus less on controlling my cravings and instead on something much bigger than just me, my motives begin to shift. When my motives shift, I begin to see victory in areas that I was not even focusing on. I have learned that when I fast and contemplate the plight of the poor and my role as a follower of Jesus and being a part of that remedy, that I engage a part of my heart that is much bigger than my desire to lose weight, become more disciplined, healthier, and better looking. I am at my best when I am focused on being a part of something much bigger than I am, something that is much more than physical pursuits, something that is truly spiritual.
Augustine said our fasting should always nourish the poor:
"'Break your bread for those who are hungry,' said Isaiah, 'do not believe that fasting suffices. Fasting chastises you, but it does not refresh the other. Your privations shall bear fruit if you give generously to another.'"
In other words, if you pass on dinner, don't simply leave your plate in the cupboard; give your portion to someone who has none.
People fast from many different things, in many different ways, and for many different reasons. I would like you to avoid trying to sum up the reasoning for your fast with any singular purpose. It is too limiting in regard to the many things God will teach you on this journey. Would you like to develop a more intimate prayer life? Yes. Would you like to develop healthier and simpler diet that will sustain you long after this fast? Yes. Do you want to identify with the poor and become increasingly generous? Yes. Would you like to abandon patterns of addictive and selfish behavior? Yes. If you are like me and you weigh more than you should, would you like to lose weight? Yes. All of this is spiritual, and not one of these desired outcomes is unacceptable. In fact, I pray that you experience all of them.
We in the church have a nasty habit of trying to divorce the physical world from the spiritual world. The world is all encompassing, and any attempt to segregate anything God created (matter) as something that is not spiritual is not just a mistake, it is a heresy known as Gnosticism. So hear me clearly: my addiction to fresh tortilla chips and homemade salsa (impossible for me to resist) is a spiritual issue. The extra weight I carry with me is a spiritual issue, and it is never more painfully obvious than when I visit brothers and sisters living in extreme poverty. I have felt the gentle and loving rebuke of the Holy Spirit as I held an underweight child. I have too much, and she does not have enough. It is a painful realization, not only because it exposes my selfishness, but also because it is clear to me that my sin is evident to everyone present.
Sharing is at the heart of true Christianity.
Is there a worldly, selfish motive that has trapped you in your Spiritual life? Were you able to give it up or would you be willing too?
Share with us in the comments below and 5 random commenter will be selected to win a copy of A Place at the Table.
FiBy: Chris Seay
nd more from Chris and purchase your copy of A Place at the Table here.
When You're Finding it Hard to be Patient
Jul 26, 2012 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp
When we pour pancake batter into a griddle, they shape up like battered, misshapen hearts that sizzle and pop.
A little one looms dangerously close to heat.
A boy anxiously slops more batter. A lanky one flips prematurely, batter oozing, dripping. The sensitive child bursts into tears that the hearts are all smeared, the rings mashed. Oldest, with egg poised to crack, asks if I want more?
More? More? It's all a bit too much. I sense a loudness, akin to a pleading howl, surging close to my lips.
The Spirit soothes, strokes the frayed edges: "Love is patient."
Love is patient?
Why is patience the first qualifier in the biblical "love chapter" describing the characteristics of love?
I mean, why not first, "Love is gentle," or "Love is tender?" Or, better yet (to my feeble mind), "Love is a flash of divine revelation, a supernatural infusing of the spirit of God." Yes, all that.
But the inspired Words says that the foundation of love is first this: patience.
How can I be patient in the tipsiness of this domestic chaos?
How can I be patient in the pain of now?
When vocal cords pitch screams, when tears brim and fall, when the clock keeps ticking steadily ahead and we just keep sputtering, stumbling along?
Deep breathe.
And it strikes me, an epiphany over the fry of bubbling pancakes, "Love is only patient if it's first grateful for what is."
When I am not patient? My failure to love is first a failure to be grateful for who people are right now.
And my impatience is a result of my unthankfulness – I'm impatient for the children to be someone different, for the cashier to hurry up, for this to get done right now.
The more dissatisfied I am in this moment, the more discontented I am with who they are, with what is happening — the harder it becomes to be patient, to be loving.
Patient people dare to gratefully accept people where they are. Grateful for who they are now, appreciative of works of art not yet finished, but still deeply loved.
Patient people dare to receive the present always as a present — grace.
Patient people dare to live only in the present. Because they know that is where God is.
Lack gratitude — then lack patience — then, ultimately, lack love. To be love-full, I'll first need to be grateful.
It is true: I can love only when I am thankful for the now.
Henri Nouwen suggests that "[t]he word patience means willingness to stay where we are and live out the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us."
In every moment I want to escape, some hidden gift hides, if I will wait patiently and dare to live to fully into that moment.
Deep breathe. Love is patient.
I can smile here — because really — there are no emergencies.
Emergencies are wildfires, screeching sirens, and gaping wounds. In everyday life, we rarely experience emergencies.
As Simone Weil writes, "Waiting patiently...is the foundation of the spiritual life."
Really, what catastrophe will befall if we're late? Or dinner is on the table 15 minutes after six? Or we have to look another 10 minutes for junior's shoe?
No emergencies. Now is good.
Now is not an emergency to rip through, but a moment to embrace with gratitude.
Standing in the kitchen, I turn my head, and when I see the world slant, hidden gift reveals themselves.
The kid leaning over the griddle? That curiosity endears, lights, impassions. Here, let's lift you away from that heat and let you see these frying cakes.
The sensitive child wailing? That tender heart is a unique gift. Why don't we pour another batter heart again and mend yours too?
And there's the way
the light shaft pools on the floor at child's feet
little one's nose curls up when she laughs
the nape of his neck when he bends to see
When the gifts are patiently unearthed from the day's rubble, we build love. Love is what stabilizes chaos.
The kids crush in and I grin.
I think I get it, the order of love, the preeminence of patience — love is patient first. Because it first is grateful for what is.
The oldest flips pancakes, and a boy pours more batter, and the youngest pushes her chair in close to see –
how everything milky and buttery loops patient on the pan, all in these slow, interconnected rings.
~ Written for you with love, by Ann Voskamp
Q4U: 'To be love-full I'll first need to be grateful'. Have you connected impatience with ungratefulness before? How has love stabilized your chaos recently? Can we begin to do this together, friends...unearth the daily gifts? Let's be real and encourage each other in the comments...
:angel:
On Telling Your Story: The Story Of Us
Jul 26, 2012 01:10 am | Alia Joy
Everyone has a story.
Whether it's worth being told is a question we often wrestle with as writers. Do we open our hearts and draw out memories and bind them together with words and phrases trying to make them dance or penetrate or wrap tight around our readers? Do we use our minds to spark a fire in our reader's neurons, inspiring thought and contemplation?
Do we trust that the story written is one that is being authored by the master of all words? Or do we doubt the ink on the sheet, the Helvetica lines marching across the page? Are our words too insignificant, our story too small to be worthy of an audience?
What is our goal in putting pen to paper, typing out lines on the screen, or scratching phrases onto receipts or gum wrappers for fear of losing those precious words?
Do we wish to come alongside each other and lift up our days of jelly stained cheeks and naps that are missed and dreams that seem forever out of our grasp? Do we celebrate wild when we are fierce, even when we are frail? Because God has invested in us eternity.
When our words are read, are we hoping you'll grasp your sides and sink down into a belly laugh that makes you snort, or weep understanding, or grip your fists in righteous anger?
Do we hope to take a little off your plate with something that has worked for us?
Do we need someone to sprinkle our path with wisdom because they have seen the other side and walked these steps and know?
Do we just want someone to type in the comments, "Yes, you get me. Thank you."
Words have lived eternal. In the beginning was The Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. God has told His story in Chapter and Verse but just as scripture is alive, a breathing moving power, we too are filled with story for we are made in His image.
Our days a testament to His grace, in the messy moments of motherhood, when our tongues slip or our tempers flare and impatience leaks out fleshly and feral. And His grace bleeds into the cracks.
We are filled with story in our pursuit of love. In our hearts for the poor, the oppressed, the tiny bodies filled full with spirit, entrusted to our care. Even when our love is imperfect.
We tell it in children sponsored, adopted, birthed. In mouths fed, lives nourished, and families formed. Souls brought whole into grace.
We are filled with story when we spread bare our souls and let our words show His way. In our families, our marriages, our lives as single women or mothers, in our ministries and workplaces and art.
So, tell your story. Shout it out, or jot it down. Share it over coffee and a scone. Share the beauty but don't leave out the mess, the burdens, the fears and failings. It's in our humanity that we connect and see the embroidered threads swirling into images. Of a people redeemed. The story of us.
By Alia Joy writing her story at Narrow Paths to Higher Places
:angel: :angel:
What are your tools?
Jul 27, 2012 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard
As humans, I believe we are meant to create. Creativity is an expression of our souls. It gives insight into who we are and what we think and feel.
Matthias, my youngest son uses paper, markers, crayons, pencils and paints to create his art. He loves to draw and he spends time every day perfecting the details of batman's cape or ironman's secret weapon. It's more than just drawing to him, it's an expression of his imagination and I see him push himself creatively without fear of failure.
David, my oldest son, who has a severe disability, uses keyboards to create his art. He loves to tap out tunes on the piano or electric keyboard. He lays his head close to the instrument, because he not only wants to hear his music, he wants to feel the vibration. Music is part of his soul. As his parents, we take this seriously and we try to nurture his passion to create with sound.
My husband, Steve, has a pastor's heart and he's working in a doctorate degree right now. He creates with words–both written and spoken. He writes to communicate deep ideas in a clear and meaningful way. His words will move your soul and change your heart. His words are insightful and encouraging. His words are his art.
I often have people say to me, "I'm not creative." But I don't believe them. I hear them saying, "I wish I could be creative." I think we all desire to create something beautiful and something filled with meaning–maybe they just haven't figured out where their creative talents lie.
Creating can be incredibly vulnerable. A couple of days ago I had a meeting with a fine jeweler in town. I needed his help setting a stone for a special project I'm working on. As I entered his workshop I thought to myself, "I'm a fake. I don't know anything about fine jewelry. He's going to laugh at me."
Because I'm mostly self-taught as a jewelry designer, many of my methods aren't 'by the book'. In the big picture, it doesn't really matter, does it? But there are times I feel inadequate or insecure because I don't have a degree in jewelry design. A degree doesn't make you an artist, it's time and practice and nurturing skill and creativity that help to make an artist. But no matter how much education or experience we have, creating something from the heart can make us feel vulnerable.
I have friends who uses words as art. I have friends who use fabric and thread to express themselves. I have friends who use a skillet and olive oil to create beautiful (and delicious) things. A camera can be a tool to create, just like yarn, paint, seeds or a hammer can be tools.
Are you setting aside your insecurities to nurture your God-given creativity? What are the tools you use to create art?
By: Lisa Leonard
:angel:
50 of Our Favorite Encouraging Tweets from July '12
Jul 29, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
In the eye of the storm, God is wrapping you around with His whole self. No one walks through the valley alone. @incourage
Don't forget to remember, fear tells you who you are not, but faith reminds you who you are! @ChristineCaine
Beauty is a state of heart, not of hair. @incourage
Love is a roof that absorbs the storms. #1000gifts @AnnVoskamp
Success isn't "not failing;" it's simply trying. @sarahmarkley
Just make friends. Don't network. @inspiredbryant
When you think your dream is done, it's the perfect time for the impossible to happen. @squeeinc
When you say: I feel defeated. God says: You are a conqueror! @ReneeSwope
The more we stand in awe of God, the less we'll stand in judgment of each other. @bobgoff
Reason to be thankful: my gravatar never has a bad hair day. @HolleyGerth
I ask for eyes to see the world brand new every day. @stacey29lincoln
There are times dirt must be ignored. We're headed to the pool! @RachelWojo
I can always give thanks because an all-powerful God always has all things – always under control. @AnnVoskamp
Just remember that God is on your team and He adores you and your children. He will be faithful to you. @Sally_Clarkson
The truth will set you free... but first, it will make you mad, defensive, and uncomfortable. @THEmollybowman
When you let the walls crumble, you begin to really walk by faith into the Light and everything changes. @sarahmae
Bad moments don't make bad mamas. @LysaTerKeurst
What happens in us matters far more than what happens to us. Our experiences don't define us; our response to them does @gritandglory
I think God is whispering to my heart that He is still in the business of doing new things. @stacey29lincoln
God isn't disappointed in our failures; He delights in our attempts. @bobgoff
Our children don't expect us to be perfect, they just want us to love them. @Sally_Clarkson
Exhale a little and think about failure being God's gift of redirection. @TraceePersiko
Sometimes being kind is more important than making our point. @lisajobaker
Be anxious for nothing. God is still in control! @DaySpring
Monday Encouragement: Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7 @compassion
Cast your care on God, and enjoy your day while He works on your problem. @JoyceMeyer
"Ordinary" is often the disguise of the divine. #lessonsfromGideon So keep your eyes open today. @PriscillaShirer
Accepted in Christ, we now run the race "for the joy that is set before us" rather than "for fear that comes behind us." @DailyKeller
I am not nothing.You are not nothing. We are daughters of the King bought at a price. We are beloved. @incourage
Anytime we find our way back to God, He's not just waiting, He's *running* toward us! @incourage
When regret weighs heavy, only turning outward and not inward lightens the load. @Kristen_Strong
Help me, Jesus, to never stop learning what you are teaching. @stacey29lincoln
Fear corrodes our confidence in God's goodness. God has not given us a spirit of fear—but of power, love & self-control. #Fearless @MaxLucado
Sometimes the benefit of the doubt is the very best gift you can give a friend @incourage
The simple act of [loving] is the most unmitigated and courageous display of Christianity we can show our neighbor. @BiancaOlthoff
If you expect the best of people, that's usually what you'll find in them. @incourage
Love is generous. Enthusiastically so. @lisajobaker
Laughter can make moments more memorable. Whether laughing along or with others, it helps us feel good about our memories. @PatsyClairmont
Don't worry about tomorrow. God is already there. @incourage
New things can be both good and scary. Focus on the good and pursue what's up ahead with courage! @LisaRWhittle
"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." Ps. 30:5 — All suffering is temporary. @AGLotz
Chocolate is proof that God is sensitive to our needs... and meets each one perfectly. @incourage
Beautiful is what happens when no one's looking: in the laundry room, back row at church, or changing diapers @incourage
Try and fail. Try and succeed. But always try. We don't know what we're capable of unless we try. @BiancaOlthoff
Celebrate your progress; don't mourn how far you still have to go. @JoyceMeyer
Without doubt I believe the best use of your life is love. @pwilson
Laughter can make moments more memorable. Whether laughing along or with others, it helps us feel good about our memories.@PatsyClairmont
Don't heavy today with yesterday's regrets or poison it with tomorrow's troubles. Fill you day with God; choose to make it great! @MaxLucado
I read on a t-shirt just yesterday & thought of you – "Save planet earth! It's the only one that has chocolate!" @lifesurrendered
Motherhood isn't rocket science. It's harder. @WeareTHATfamily
:angel:
My Pirfect Life
Jul 30, 2012 01:20 am | Nancy Jo
Nancy Jo Sullivan is an inspirational author and speaker. She has published with Random House, Guideposts, Readers Digest, and the Huffington Post.
In her newest book, Small Mercies, Sullivan writes about God's presence in her life through motherhood, family and love. Through poignant reflections, she recalls how she found God even in her darkest moments, such as during her divorce and in the months that followed the death of her Down syndrome daughter. She reminds the reader that God is present in "every mess, burden and blessing."
The mother of two grown daughters, Nancy Jo resides in Saint Paul, Minnesota. She loves hanging out with her daughters, teaching writing classes to kids with special needs, jogging, drinking spinach smoothies and writing about all her imperfect stories.
***
What does a perfect life look like?
When I ponder this question, thoughts of Sarah come to mind.
She was born on a snowy Minnesota evening, over two decades ago. She was our first, a beautiful newborn with auburn hair and a dimpled smile. But within an hour of her birth, the doctors began gathering around my bedside. We believe your baby has Down's syndrome...
Questions, all of them unanswerable, filled me. Why this baby? Why our family? What did the future hold? I had prayed for a healthy child. Now, it was clear that her disability was non-negotiable.
But as the first months and years of her life passed, I fell in love with this amazing child. As an infant she smiled, always. She never went through her terrible twos, threes, and fours. She was too busy defying her disability, grinning widely as she slowly learned to walk, talk, sing, and dance.
Sarah loved fairy tales; all the timeworn stories of princesses and true love. One afternoon, I was reading her Snow White, along with her two younger sisters. With a crown on her head, Sarah pointed to a picture of a regal princess in a sparkling gown.
"Mom...That's...that's....mmme," she stuttered. She got up and began dancing around the room. "I'm...I'm...loved."
I never was sure if it was Sarah's disability or her innate goodness that rendered her incapable of bitterness or resentment. Yes, she was vulnerable, unable to defend herself in a world that was often cruel. Nonetheless, her life was a song of kindness, one that she taught all of us to sing.
As Sarah moved into her teenage years, she began penning her thoughts on the inside covers of her fairy tale books. Each afternoon, she would write at her desk wearing a tiara and dress up gown.
Sometimes, as I passed by her room with a laundry basket, I would take a peek at her misspelled messages: My nme is prncess Sarah. God livs in my hart. Someday my prnce wll come.
One day, she wrote, I have a pirfect life. I patted her on the back and went back to my work, grinning.
During her twenty-three years on earth, Sarah never once lamented about what she couldn't do. Instead, she read love stories. She wrote beautiful messages. She dressed up on ordinary afternoons. She danced. She smiled. She treasured each of her days.
Were there times when her disability was hard on me? Did I have moments when I wished everything was different? Of course.
But now that she is safe in God's arms, I can't recall the hard days.
In the world's eyes, Sarah's life was far from perfect. She bore the slanted eyes and low muscle tone of a Down-syndrome child. She functioned at the level of a first grader. She wasn't wealthy, powerful, or famous.
But Sarah's disabilities did not define her. On the contrary, she saw herself as royalty. The Lord of true love lived in her heart. His light shimmered from her eyes and radiated from the irrepressible joy she shared. She was a princess, God's beloved.
These days, I love to remember Sarah wearing her crown—and think of myself wearing one too, as she taught me. We are all princes and princesses. We need not be perfect to win the affection of our heavenly King. Even if we are disabled by many fears and failings, we cannot be stripped of our royal identity.
So today, put on your crown.
Defy your disabilities and dance for joy.
Your pirfect life is waiting to be lived.
***************************************
By Nancy Jo, NancyJoSullivan.com
Giveaway: To enter to win a copy of Small Mercies, answer, Who has led you to the Lord of true love?
Loyola Press has created a coupon code just for (in)courage readers, good for 30% off the cover price! Just purchase your copy here, with the code "Mercies." Valid through August 31.
:angel:
On having childlike faith
Jul 30, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne
I sat next to my 7 year old on his bed, gathered the quilt around him and rubbed his forehead to help him calm and quiet. As we talked he told me he had questions about life. About God.
He asked me what heaven would be like, when we'd get to heaven and then who was in heaven now. Then he asked me what was going to happen with daddy's job.
I realized then that so much of how I answered was based on the fact I knew he believed everything I said.
He did not question that I was correct or that God was possibly not going to do what I said He would do, nor did he question me when I told him of God's promises in the bible.
When I told him God was going to provide all our needs, he didn't doubt me for a second. When I said all who choose Jesus will have eternal life, he believed those words. When I told him that he would never be separated from God, he knew it was the truth.
It struck me how many times I've questioned those same truths. How many times I've struggled in my faith to find answers that stuck with me. How many times I've wondered if God was really there, really loved me, and really would never leave me.
Lately I've been feeling like during prayer God keeps reminding me to have childlike faith. To just receive what He wants to give me, with simple faith. Sometimes the thought occurs to me – imagine if I believed everything God said?
I know that questioning is ok, and I have a faith in Jesus that can certainly be questioned and still stand strong. His Truth is a tower. I cling to the Holy Spirit that confirms Jesus' words. However, I know when my head is believing but my heart is struggling.
And those moments – when I don't necessarily question the facts, but still struggle to have faith — those are the moments when I can take a page from my kids. I can let go, fall back into childlike faith, and let Jesus catch me.
***
By Arianne
How do you overcome times when your faith is wobbly?
:angel: :angel:
Covered
Jul 31, 2012 01:20 am | Nancy Jo
Nancy Jo Sullivan is an inspirational author and speaker. She has published with Random House, Guideposts, Readers Digest, and the Huffington Post.
In her newest book, Small Mercies, Sullivan writes about God's presence in her life through motherhood, family, and love. Through poignant reflections, she recalls how she found God even in her darkest moments, such as during her divorce and in the months that followed the death of her Down syndrome daughter. She reminds the reader that God is present in "every mess, burden, and blessing."
The mother of two grown daughters, Nancy Jo resides in Saint Paul, Minnesota. She loves hanging out with her daughters, teaching writing classes to kids with special needs, jogging, drinking spinach smoothies, and writing about all her imperfect stories.
***
When I was a little girl, I used to get up early each morning—way before my 8 other siblings—and join my father at the kitchen table. While I ate my Rice Krispies, my broad-shouldered father began telling me stories about a maiden who bore the same nickname as mine.
According to my father, "Ko-cheeze" was a Native American princess who lived along the Mississippi river in the 1800s. As Dad described the thick forests that framed the waters, I could almost see Ko-cheeze canoeing through the waves, her long hair blowing in the breeze. "She wore moccasins and a buckskin skirt. She was a free spirit," Dad explained.
Often, Ko-cheeze would stop to search for precious jewels along the shoreline. I would imagine her dancing around a tribal campfire as Dad tapped his hands on the table like a drum. "Close your eyes—can you see her?" Dad would say.
As I grew, I came to cherish those early-morning moments with my father, because, when evening came, everything changed. At 5:15 pm, when Dad arrived home from his job at an insurance company, he would always be carrying a paper bag that held an eight-pack of beer. Making his way to an upstairs den, he would quietly close the door, sealing himself off. In that dimly lit room, he would watch Wheel of Fortune and begin to drink in solitude.
We never knocked on the door. None of us knew the person who drank in darkness.
"Why does Dad drink?" I asked my mother one night as I did my homework at the kitchen table. "Your father has many regrets," she said. She talked about the untimely death of his father and how Dad quit Notre Dame Law School in his mid twenties. "He keeps everything bottled up inside," she told me.
When I was 19, our family tried doing an intervention with Dad, but he never showed up.
The night after the intervention that never happened, I opened the door of the den and sat down on the chair right next to him. We sat together in the shadows, facing his silent television.
"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes misting.
"I know Dad..."
My father died 10 years later at the age of 55, the age I am now.
I suppose at this stage in my life I could easily call myself a victim or be angry that I grew up in an alcoholic home. But I believe that my father loved me and each member of our family. I've chosen to forgive him for succumbing to a disease that ultimately robbed him of life. The truth is, the best part of Dad lives on in me and in the stories I am now called to share.
In every family, there are hurts that linger and sins that we are called to forgive.
While forgiveness can be difficult, especially when loved ones refuse our help, the Scriptures provide us with these encouraging words: "Above all, let your love for one another be intense, because love covers a multitude of sins" (I Peter 4:8).
Perhaps a family member has closed a door on you. Maybe your child has become defiant or your spouse has betrayed you or a parent has let you down. If so, let God give you the grace to forgive them. Love them intensely. Rest assured that love—yours and God's—will cover a multitude of sins.
***************************************
By Nancy Jo, NancyJoSullivan.com
Giveaway: To enter to win a copy of Small Mercies, answer, How have you been called to share the intense love of God?
I wish to thank my mother, Mary Heiztman, for giving me permission to share this story.
Photo by Rachel Arguelles.
Loyola Press has created a coupon code just for (in)courage readers, good for 30% off the cover price! Just purchase your copy here, with the code "Mercies." Valid through August 31.
:angel:
How to Love Your Home {Even When You Don't Like It}
Jul 31, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
Most of us don't live in perfect houses. We live with random furniture handed down and collected over time. We may live in a less-than-ideal rental or a home that was not custom built perfectly for our taste and needs. Things may be deteriorating faster than we can afford to fix or replace them. When faced with a choice of paying for braces for the kids or updating our furniture, the braces probably will win out.
Yet while decorating the house might seem frivolous when kids need to be fed and bills need to be paid, creating a home you love to live in is not necessarily a sign of misplaced priorities. I think loving the home you have while living within your means can be an act of gratitude for what God has provided.
While it would be helpful and even so much easier to feel the love for a home with more funds or mad DIY skills, I think there is a middle ground for the rest of us on a budget of time and money – the art of creatively living with what you have. Whether you rent or own, you can love where you live and still keep your current priorities in order.
You can see photos in this post of some of my extremely simple "creative solutions" for loving my own imperfect home on a budget of time and money. Sometimes it just takes a little creative touch to make something better than it was, even if it can't be perfect in this season of life. That is often my goal with a project, just to make it better than it was!
There are so many simple ways to fall more in love with your home when we can accept our limitations and make the best of what we have.
Living intentionally and creatively makes it possible to love your home no matter what kind of house you have or what your budget is!
Do you enjoy using what you have to creatively decorate and fix up your home?
:angel: :angel:
Anticipation
Jul 31, 2012 01:10 am | Kelly Buddenhagen
We worry about so many things, anticipate so much going wrong, blow into figurative paper bags about the what-may-happens that seem to clog up precious space in our lives. We also smile, laugh, rejoice, and give thanks over the many beautiful and blessed moments that our Father God showers down on us. What's the connection between both the sorrow and the joy?
Anticipation.
No, seriously. Stay with me here.
Tomorrow, August 1, is my due date for our sweet Emmeline. Now, I know that due dates aren't carved in stone, but I still seriously thought that our baby girl would be here by now. A combination of my firstborn daughter Grace coming early and my secondborn little delight, Libby, also coming ahead of a calculator's schedule really made me believe that Emmeline would follow in her sisters sparkly shoes. Couple this random mama logic with a naïve assumption that the string of July events would continue (my husband and I celebrate both our birthdays, our anniversary, and the birthday of one of our daughers) made us really believe that we'd be having another little highlighted box on this month's calendar. August? Really? There was no way!
Oh yes, where there's a (baby's) will, there's a way!
What waiting for Emmeline has taught me is that when we anticipate an event, it usually doesn't work out how we imagine. Sometimes that's rough knowledge when what we're expecting is being counted down to with joy and excitement, such as the birth of a baby, a wedding day, a vacation or even something as simple as $.99 iced coffees in the beginning of summer (holla!), but sometimes we're awaiting a situation that's been plaguing our hearts with worry and our minds with unease. Our lives usually ride between the two extremes. Again I beg the question, what do they have in common? Anticipation, of the wonder of the good things coming upon us and the anxiety of the bad.
But anticipation doesn't stand alone. It has a wonderful, well-dressed girlfriend who sometimes forgets to put on her heels so that we look right over her purdy little head. Her name? We all know it. Relief. She's right there holding down the back. Sometimes she's the calm breath of joy that we exhale after closing our eyes and basking in the warmth of a dream come true. Sometimes she's squeezing our shoulders as we crumple into a heap, sobbing out our lifted pain along with rivers of praise.
Relief also comes from understanding that things are never as perfect or as terrible as we suppose. We don't have to fall so far or be buried so deep that we turn our eyes from the help – the promise of goodness – that comes from the Lord. I really believed that our third daughter was going to come early and have been completely thrown off, but I've learned that it's another reminder from Jesus that things cannot go as planned. Not the good things, nor the bad things. And you know what? I'm glad! Before this summer is through I'll have another little darling to love and raise for Him, and I'll have received a deeper understanding of God's care for us, His children. Sometimes we worry as we wait and sometimes we shake with enthusiasm, but both scenarios promise one thing – God is control, and nothing will ever be what we think it will. We know that His plans for our good are even better than we could've expected, and His ways of remedying our sorrow are more powerful than we can ever anticipate.
By Kelly
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Sometimes Happily Ever After Doesn't Start Out the Way You Planned
Aug 01, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
Most girls spend years dreaming of their wedding days. Or so the story goes. I dreamed about where I'd go to school and what I'd study. My big book of college profiles was worn and dogeared, a compass intended to point me in the right direction after high school graduation.
Just when I thought I'd figured it out—in May of my senior year with an acceptance letter from an Ivy League college in hand—I met the 17-year-old brother of a friend from a rival high school and everything changed.
I fell so hard and so fast that by August it was difficult to load up the U-Haul with my family and drive 1800 miles from home. From him. As much as I loved the school and the new friends made, nothing could overcome the constant ache in my heart. We became engaged the following March and married in October, in that New Hampshire town where he'd gone with me back to school and rented a basement apartment nearby.
Although I never doubted the man I chose, for years I'd sit in the pew at weddings and wonder if I missed something getting married in a school chapel, in a dress I bought off the rack in that college town, with the justice of the peace presiding and a school newspaper photographer.
Sometimes I'd begrudge the bride who'd return from her honeymoon to move into a new house. Our first four children were born before we owned an actual home of our own.
I'd forgotten that God specializes in conceiving great things from humble beginnings: a shepherd boy who would be king of Israel; a Jewish orphan who would become the queen of Persia and save her people; his own son, born in a manger inside a stable.
Whether your wedding was big and fancy, small and simple, or hasn't yet occurred, let me share these truths:
Your wedding isn't about the dress or the reception. It's about the man. The vows.
You marriage isn't about where you live or what you drive. It's about loving your husband (which is commanded of us, as an act of the will). Two becoming one flesh. Commitment.
Don't be ashamed of simple beginnings (or simple middles and endings, for that matter). Sometimes happily ever after doesn't start out in a way that you planned or could ever imagine. Pray for God's blessings upon your marriage " . . . and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." ~Hebrews 13:5
Do you have a story where God turned a simple beginning into so much more?
by Dawn Camp, who loves that same man just as fiercely 8 kids and nearly 27 years later
Download August's Desktop Calendar!
:angel:
You're the Only YOU We've Got
Aug 03, 2012 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
I walk through my house, thoughts swirling through my mind like the dust bunnies doing dances in front of my vacuum.
I think of other women who have cleaner houses.
Which leads to thoughts of other women who cook better meals.
And that goes on to other women who have cuter outfits, and are better at twitter, and can make small talk with ease.
I wish I could be like...is the refrain that goes round and round in my mind.
Finally I hit the power button on the vacuum, feeling drained myself.
I whisper a question, "God, why do I feel I need to be like so many other people?"
It seems there is an answer that comes so quiet...
Because the enemy would rather have you be like anyone but Jesus.
As we used to say in Junior High, um, duh.
If I'm busy trying to be like Mary, Martha and Margaret then I'm left with no time to be me. Or, more specifically, to let Jesus be who He is through me.
Each of us are made in the image of God. That means we're created to show Him to the world in a way no one else ever has and no one else ever will.
I do that by being who He made me.
And you do that by being you.
So listen, brave friends, let's decide together that we will stop trying to be like each other.
And instead be conformed to the one whose likeness we're made in.
I empty the vaccum into a bag, dust and clutter giving way to clean again. I smile because my heart suddenly feels like that too.
Comparison replaced by clarity–about who I am, what I'm called to do, and the God who's wild enough to choose me for His purposes.
And you.
And you.
And you.
All of us.
Just as we are–and unlike anyone else.
– Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing
:angel:
Around the Corner
Aug 02, 2012 01:10 am | Jan
"Sometimes," she confessed, "I don't want to go around the corner, even though God may have something good waiting for me."
I was at my church's women's retreat when a casual acquaintance shared this during a session break.
"Why not?" I asked, a bit incredulous, thinking that most people would run toward good stuff from the Creator of the universe.
"Because I don't know what's there," she replied. "And it scares me."
Looking at her life and the possibilities it held—young, beautiful SAHM, two wonderful children, a hardworking, attorney husband—I couldn't make sense of it. But I gave her a proper and polite, churchy-lady smile and nodded as though I did.
Then she turned the discussion toward me and asked the 'big question':
What are you wrestling with right now?
Um. Not much, really.
Marriage good.
Check.
Health good.
Check.
Career good.
Check.
Life, in general?
Um. Pretty good, I guess.
Sort of.
I mean, mostly.
No reason to complain really, except ...
I blurted:
"I feel lost. I'm going to turn 50 six months from today and I'm wondering if this is, like, 'the end.' Life is almost over for me and I've done nothing that means anything. Nothing at all."
The don't-I-look-and-feel-stupids moved in fast. Tears welled in my eyes. My face flushed posey-pink.
"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from," I stammered. "It's just that, well, I'm afraid there's nothing around the corner for me ..."
Yeesh.
I sounded like Dorothy when the Wizard empties the last from the little black bag and she—I mean, me—is left without.
She turned and squared her shoulders toward mine, her round, blue eyes smiling directly at me and said something about me still breathing and God not being done with me yet ... then she delivered the whammy:
What you're feeling is just preparation for what's around the corner.
Heart and soul.
Bone and marrow.
Pierced to the core.
A life-saving message from from God's soul to mine through her.
Preparation? Why, I hadn't thought of that!
Her words forced me into a cataclysmic decision to believe God's promise in Ephesians 2:10:
For we are His handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which He prepared in advance for us to do.
There is something around the corner for me; it's just that I'm not yet near enough to make the bend.
By: Jan O'Daniel, Amplifying Joy
:angel:
Homemade Lemonade
Aug 02, 2012 04:00 am | Deidra
Through the window, I can see a steady stream of traffic on the highway. It's a mile away from where I sit, but this is Nebraska and there is rarely anything out here on The Great Plains to block your view, unless it's something you put there yourself. You'd think the traffic on the highway would be a nuisance, but it is strangely hypnotic and I have to discipline myself to keep from making up a story for every driver in every vehicle I see driving by.
Just outside the window, hanging above a white picket fence, two goldfinch land on the bird feeder. I can't hear them from where I sit barefoot at the kitchen table, but one of them is definitely the bossy one. The bossy bird perches herself up above the other one and arches her body downward while she keeps a tight grip on the perch. She gets all up in the face of the other bird and squawks – her pointy beak just millimeters from the bird below her. I watch the little bird on the perch below and I don't see a feather ruffle. Cool bird.
I pour myself another glass of lemonade and look across the table at my friend. She is smart and talented in a Proverbs 31 way, but it doesn't make me feel like I belong on a perch beneath her. She makes me wish I lived in the house next door instead of an hour's drive north on that highway I can see outside her kitchen window. She talks about God and He makes her eyes light up. I want some of what she has, and I don't just mean her recipe for homemade lemonade.
"I'm so glad you wore shorts," she'd said when she answered the door. No fanciness. No pretense. Just a warm welcome of me, exactly as I was. Exactly as I am.
It wasn't long before I'd kicked off my shoes, too. Now, I sat barefoot at the kitchen table, drinking homemade lemonade, the gleeful recipient of the gift of hospitality.
It is a gift.
I'm often on the other side of this picture. "I love having people in my house," I say. I love the cooking and the welcoming and the serving and creating space for someone else to catch their breath. And sometimes, I forget the gift goes both ways.
How about you? Are you usually on the giving side of hospitality, or the receiving side? And also? Do you have a killer lemonade recipe?
Post by Deidra, Jumping Tandem.
Image by Nick Harris.
:angel: :angel:
They Will Be Comforted
Aug 04, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer
There are many losses we must go through in life. Loss of a loved one. Loss of a pet. Loss of a job. Loss of a marriage. Loss of a friendship. Loss of a home. They are all losses. And although we grieve over different hurts and we grieve in different ways, we all have experienced grief in some way. We all will experience grief in some way. It is something that connects us as humans.
There is not a person alive that hasn't had something happen that is extremely hard to get over. There is not a person alive that hasn't gone through something hard to understand. It is ok not to understand.
I think we grieve so intensely because we love so intensely.
My husband and I suffered a tremendous loss in our family last month, the loss of our 10 year old weimaraner, Koa. Our truly beloved companion. It was, and still is, devastating. This grief hit me so intensely, it just went straight to my core. This grief knocked me to my knees. But I know that God will meet me where I am.
I know that God understands my pain. I know that He understands and knows my grief. I know He cares. He is there to comfort us and to carry us through, each and every one of us.
We just need to turn to Him. It is by taking it to the Father that we are able to withstand the pain. By giving Him our grief every morning we can make it through the day.
God meets us in our suffering. He will always be there with wide, open arms to hold us. He gives us strength we need for each day. He will be there to help us when our legs are too weak. When we are shattered and need a simple reminder to breathe, He is there. Our friend is there for us.
We can not receive the comfort we need on this earth, not completely. It can only completely come from Him.
He will be there when we find our strength to stand again and He will stand right there beside us. He helps us find all those pieces and put them back into place. God gets us to the other side.
And in turn, we are able to comfort others with that same love and compassion.
Do you turn to Him with your troubles and grief? Are you going through a difficult time right now... are you finding your strength in Him? Please feel open to share so we may know how He strengthens or we may share with you the love and compassion we have received from Him.
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
Sunday Scripture
Aug 05, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.
Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
Colossians 3: 12-17
:angel:
When Differences Loom Large
Aug 07, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
"To share an uncommon love where we have uncommon ground – now, that's marriage."
Beth Moore, Feathers from My Nest
"Now, listen up, everyone! Breakfast will be served at oh-nine hundred sharp!"
The words reverberate off the bathroom walls where I'm applying mascara. I step back from the counter and nervously ask myself,
"Oh-nine hundred. I guess that's 9 o'clock?"
I step out of the bathroom of my then boyfriend David's family lake house. Mercifully, David walks by and I whisper to him only slightly panicked,
"Okay, this oh-nine hundred thing. That's 9 o'clock, right?"
He grins big and nods.
The lake house was chock-full of his sweet family who graciously invited me to enjoy the weekend with them at their family reunion. It was also chock-full of more military brass than you could shake a stick at. As warm and welcoming as they were, their family lifestyle was quite the departure from that of my own artsy, free-spirited self.
Our early differences stemmed from more than military vs. non military families. David and I came from different church denominations. We voted for opposing Presidential candidates in the previous election. He majored in engineering, I majored in arts. And still today, our personalities sometimes clash. He loves change, I resist it. He's a straight up thinker, I'm a feeler all the way.
Now married seventeen years, I've spent more of my life with him than without. I've been head over heels for this man since the first moment I laid eyes on him, but let me tell you: We are crazy different and it's only by God's divine plan we found each other and are together. Still.
When David and I think about how he and I became us, we see two people with a wild attraction for each other, a healthy sense of humor, and a divine smattering of super glue. Undoubtedly, God meant for us to be together. And as lovely as that sounds, there are times when we both think the other is an alien. And depending on our mood, we find this hilarious or maddening.
Lately, there have been real differences glare obnoxious in our marriage. Not insurmountable differences, but not discountable ones, either. And if I might get super honest with you, there are times my thoughts run away and I'm sure we will never find common ground. How could we when we look at something from completely opposite points of view?
"Sometimes what is most important to us is not obvious and can be seen only by how we respond to our husbands in everyday life." Linda Dillow, What's It Like to Be Married to Me?
Too often, I let our differences get the best of me and I make unwise choices in how I respond to these differences. How I respond to my husband.
But I am learning. I am learning to quit fighting our differences, to put my fists down and open my hands to the mystery of Christ. Jesus revels in bringing uncommon people together for His common good. He is glorified when two people who under normal circumstances wouldn't spend 5 minutes together actually like each other. Love each other. When two people serve Jesus, love not only covers a multitude of sins, it covers a multitude of differences. Unlike any other, His love smooths the bumps, fills the gaps, and heals the wedges between two wildly different people.
There are a million I-am-for-you-and-not-against-you choices I can make for my man and marriage each day, and all those everyday little choices answer to this big one: In spite of our differences, I choose the same team as you, my husband. I choose you.
I choose us.
If you and your spouse {or another loved one} are two wildly different people, would you share a bit of your story with us? How are you different? How do you stay on the same team?
Several of you told me how you considered the Friendship Manifesto from my last post as it related to your spouse. Your comments gave me delicious food for thought, and I thank you so much. If you are interested in downloading a free printable form of that manifesto, please click here.
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Experience Not Required For Bravery
Aug 07, 2012 01:10 am | Shelly Miller
My dress hangs loose but I can't fit into my jeans yet. It's only been a few months since giving birth to my first child when a friend stops me in the church lobby. We both carry car seats with newborns like purses dangling on arms when she pleads with me to start something for new moms. A play group, bible study, anything – because she's desperate.
She speaks teary of loneliness, isolation and tired that smothers joy. We're the same age, wear the same dark circles of new motherhood, but I'm the pastors wife and his wisdom shadows me capable.
I think about how just weeks before, I stood in the closet with hot tears staining cheeks, admitting to him how unprepared I felt to raise a life. What does the only child of a single mother that spends most nights romancing a cheap bottle of wine know about being a mother?
Bravery comes as an unexpected gift, attached to the heels of new life for a mother. I grasp that gift like a fish flopping on the kitchen counter and say yes, I'll do it. Provide a community where weary hearts can rest, find solace in the reflection of their kindred kind.
They flock like birds to scattered seeds on new grass at the beginning of spring. Wear those car seats and diaper bags as badges of honor for the price of shoulders to lean on. Savor His wisdom from Words of Life once a week.
And weary hearts that once lay scattered like rags around the city quickly become a vibrant community in parks pushing swings, around backyard pools and barbecues, lunching beside plastic cities at McDonalds.
Our kids drive cars now and the mothers, we spread out to where His finger points. We worry about the price of gas, college entrance, and fine lines; marvel at how time really does fly, and wonder how silent life will feel just around the corner.
When I reflect upon conversations between many of those same women today, I realize that it doesn't take years of experience or eloquent speech to build a community of lifelong companionship. Just a bit of holy bravery rooted in compassion to listen to the voice of destiny, and then say yes.
Sometimes that yes yields a harvest of flourishing families. A lifelong look into eyes that share the sacred pilgrimage of becoming the people He created us to be.
So, get going. I'll be right there with you—with your mouth! I'll be right there to teach you what to say. Exodus 4:11, The Message
Have you ever wanted to lead something? Perhaps pioneer something new but stuttered in stepping out because of a lack of experience? Let's talk about it and encourage one another here in the comments.
By Shelly Miller, Redemptions Beauty
:angel:
If You Need Rescuing
Aug 08, 2012 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
My breath fogs up the mirror. I swipe another coat of mascara on my lashes.
"Thank you that my skin isn't broken out today."
I step back to examine my attempt at dreamy eyes.
"Thank you that my hair doesn't look strange, even with all the humidity."
"Thank you for my dear friends. This heart of mine is full with their love for me. Thank you for sending them my way. I need each of them and you knew that."
He heard my year old prayers to send me real friends.
I check my phone for the time.
"Thank you for sound sleep last night with no bad dreams. And the opportunity to serve you today."
"Oh and that new opportunity that you've brought out of the blue, that was amazing. I'm blown away by your provision. Thank you, Lord."
___________________________________________
My morning routine has changed. Not with a new loofah or hairbrush, but how I dress my mind. Instead of waking up asking for things, nervous about the day, trying to control my circumstances with rapid gunfire prayers towards heaven, I turn my heart toward grateful.
I acknowledge the small that can break my day or make my attitude.
I like a good 'if, then' statement and this one's a keeper. "Make thankfulness your sacrifice to God, and keep the vows you made to the Most High. Then, call on me when you are in trouble, and I will rescue you, and you will give me glory." – Psalm 50: 14 & 15
My goal is simple. To give God glory. But sometimes I make it more complicated that it needs to be. I love when He reveals to me how to do the desire of my heart. The one He planted there long ago.
Not blood or sweat or try-hard sacrifice, but thankfulness. That's all Jesus wants from me.
{That can be hard to swallow. Take a moment a try to believe that. Do you really? Or does the good girl list creep in. "Surely, that's not all the God of the Universe needs. He'll need more." Well, He doesn't.}
A thankful heart for the big, and most definitely the very small, is rescuing me from the ordinary life. And could rescue me from trouble in the future.
Let's give Him glory, girls. Will you share your sacrifice of thankfulness to God? {I'd love to read one thing from you today.}
:angel:
What Are You Longing For?
Aug 09, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
The structure part of the retreat finishes and we all prepare for bed. Kendra, my co-leader, plants herself on one side of the room, I on the other. We want to be available to any students who may want to talk more privately about the things we discussed during the weekend – things of faith, hope, fear, and freedom.
I watch Kendra from where I sit. She is in deep conversation with a student and I desperately want to join them, want to hear the things that bring this girl to such a broken place and hopefully, to healing.
Instead, I sit on my side of the room and am quickly surrounded by a group of about four girls. The conversation drifts from cats to allergies to dogs. Then back to cats.
Internally, I am exploding from boredom. Externally, I am listening, laughing, engaged.
This talk is not interesting. But these girls are sixteen. And in order to reach their hearts, sometimes we have to smile through the small talk, connect on insignificant issues, feel our way through the pleasantries.
I am emotionally allergic to small talk. Give me a girl who wants to talk the deep and I'll stay up all night. Put me at dinner with a group of chit-chatters, and I'll take my food to go, thank you.
But I don't take my food to go because I like people. Also, I'm pretty good at the small talk. People have actually told me this. I roll my eyes at myself sometimes when I notice ways my outer life isn't consistent with my inner life.
The Man and I read a book together this past winter – Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton – and while I read about her own career in speaking and writing as well as the exhaustion her soul felt in the midst, it resonated so deeply I had to put the book down and sob.
"Exhaustion sets in when we are too accessible too much of the time. A soul-numbing sadness comes when we realize that a certain quality of life and quality of presence is slipping away as a result of too much 'convenience.'... I am noticing that the more I fill my life with the convenience of technology, the emptier I become in the places of my deepest longing."
Ruth Haley Barton, Sacred Rhythms
Sometimes the internet feels like one long session of small talk. It drains the ever-lovin life out of me.
Small talk isn't necessarily wrong or bad, it just isn't my favorite. And the feeling I get when the small talk outweighs the real talk is similar to the feeling I get when I haven't had time to consider my intentions, my longings, and my desire.
Jesus consistently asked people in the Bible the same question: "What do you want me to do for you?" It wasn't a trick question and it cut right through the small talk. He looked straight into their eyes and asked them clearly, what is your desire?
It is impossible to answer questions about desire when our souls shake at the edges from too much activity.
We must quiet the critical voice, search out the secret place, listen for the deep, mysterious longing.
Don't be afraid of the answers. What God has placed within you, he wants to bring out of you. Not just for you, but for us, too.
Barton goes on to say: "I long for the beauty and substance of being in the presence of those I love, even though it is less convenient. I long for spacious, thoughtful conversation even though it is less efficient. I long to be connected with my authentic self, even though it means being inaccessible to others at times."
And so I consider what it is I long for.
I have a deep desire to listen and understand what goes on behind the masks people put up. Even though I wrote a whole book about it, sometimes I'm still terrified to have people see what goes on behind mine. I long to embrace my own smallness, to quiet the competing voices in my head, and to enter into listening conversations with my husband, teenagers, my children, my Father.
We were made in the secret place and to the secret place we must return. To receive. To remember. To listen.
What are you longing for?
typed out in the quiet by Emily Freeman
:angel:
Pleasing People
Aug 09, 2012 01:10 am | Kate Motaung
A few weeks ago, I found myself trying to convince my six-year-old that she could not walk the mile to swimming lessons with her swimming cap on her head.
"Why not, Mom?" she asked. "Is it because you think people will think I look silly?"
"Well, yes," I admitted.
"I don't care if people think I look silly," was her nonchalant response.
Of course I smiled. And with the smile came the realization that I had overreacted. Again.
The same sin in my heart manifests itself in a myriad of different masks – but the substance from which the masks are formed is the same. They are all moulded from a plaster called pride.
I want others to think well of me, to be impressed with my parenting skills, to compliment my children's behavior.
How many times have I scolded my nine-year-old because his shirt was not tucked in, or reprimanded my four-year-old for not wiping the toothpaste off his face like I had asked him to? Tidy appearances are not unbiblical, but what is my motive for such standards? Truthfully, it is to make a good impression on others. At its root is the desire to please people.
If my daughter is desperate to go to church so she can learn more about Jesus, does God care whether her socks match? 1 Samuel 16:7 says, "But the LORD said to Samuel, 'Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.'"
My primary concern should not be what other people think of me or my children, but whether my heart is right with God.
Biblically speaking, I should not place a desire to please and impress others over and above my desire to please my King. I've been convicted by Galatians 1:10 – "Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ."
Paul's words in 1 Thessalonians 2:4-5 are equally convicting: "...We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed—God is our witness."
When my daughter revealed her indifference toward the opinion of others, part of me was glad that I have not yet scarred her completely with my sinful tendency to want to please people. Another part of me wondered how long it will take before her child-like naivety wears off and she becomes more aware of peer pressure and wanting to fit in.
With this in mind, I ask myself: "How can I, as a parent, be proactive and help to protect my children from succumbing to the wants of society as I am so programmed to do?"
For a start, I can help them by ensuring that they are raised with a biblical view of themselves.
Each one of us is a wretched sinner, utterly helpless to do or be anything good without the help of the Holy Spirit. Having said that, it is astounding to think we have been made by God in His image. He Himself knitted us together, He knew us before we were even conceived, His hand formed us and shaped us exactly how He wanted us to be.
If I truly believed that, I would not sigh with such agitation on Sunday mornings when my kids drip syrup onto their church clothes. If I really believed that, I would happily let my daughter walk in public with a swimming cap on her head, as long as her heart is right with God.
By Kate Motaung
:angel: :angel:
The Small Things That Keep You Close
Aug 10, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
I grew up in a ministry family. My father was the local director of an international Christian youth organization and I spent my younger years very much a part of all of that excitement and energy that surrounded that group.
When I was in the tenth grade my father began taking big groups of kids to the mountains where we would spend a weekend worshipping, laughing and becoming introduced to some of the spiritual disciplines. Most of us were "churched" kids who loved Jesus and 1. Were excited to be out of suburbia and 2. Wanted to get closer to God. But we'd each been sitting in youth groups and Sunday School for years hearing "about" Jesus so this hands on approach to God was all a new experience.
We learned about solitude and prayer. We learned about study and Christian meditation. We talked about service and about silence. And then we practiced them.
With a journal in one hand and the Bible in the other, we would spend 30 minutes or longer alone in the near woods asking God to speak to us through nature. We watched pine trees sway and ants build homes and wondered what truth of God could be learned from such things. We read the Bible and asked God to reveal Himself to us in new ways from the Scriptures.
Sometimes we were silent.
Sometimes we just prayed.
Sometimes we meditated on something Jesus said.
All in all, we were being coached in how to live a spiritually interpretive life. We were encouraged to try to find the sacred and true in the minutiae of the journey. And we were being taught how to live with Jesus rather than just learn about Him.
I went to these weekend camps with my dad and mom and other young adults twice a year for almost a decade. I credit this, even above any church service or big Christian conference I ever attended, with what has helped me the most in my year to year life with God.
I've listened to a lot of sermons and sat in tons of Bible studies. Like a lot of us, I've been a part of prayer meetings and Friday night services and worship evenings. I've heard a lot about God and a lot about the Bible. But for me what has stretched far beyond pulpits and what has lasted well into the next decade has been the regular practice of practical, godly, spiritual disciplines.
These are the small things that have kept me close.
When I don't feel like reading the Bible and I go months and months without cracking it's pages, I seem to fall back to prayer and meditation like they are old friends. The idea of studying a child's laughter or why a bird builds a nest near my dining room window comes easier to me because I've done it before and God has spoken to me through these things. I've practiced it with my own hands. The years when sermons seem dry and Bible studies bore are the years I find myself picking out a single verse and meditating on it over a kitchen sink full of dishes, my arms half deep in the soap. And to be alone, to be silent in communion with God is ever preferable to me over many other things.
I'm not at all against church. I love church and I love my church very much.
But at the end of it all, it won't matter what church we've gone to or how many women's Bible studies we've attended.
It will matter, I believe, how we let Him infuse our days with Himself and how we allow ourselves to be taught by the little, beautiful things in life. And I think it will matter, at the end, how we choose to live with Jesus every day.
What are the small things that keep you close to or bring you back to Jesus? How have you seen God in daily life lately?
:angel:
Saving Grace [On Raising Christians]
Aug 11, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
We recently had house guests, the kind that stay a few days.
This always makes me nervous.
I worry about my cooking, if the bathrooms are clean enough...if there's extra room around the table, you know how it is. It can be stressful for Type A people like me.
During conversations, over dinner, and in general, I kept catching myself over-correcting my kids. I was scrutinizing their every move, closely watching for bad attitudes, micro-managing their behavior and wanting them to be perfect little Christian children.
I'm not sure if it was just a lack of grace or a desire to impress our company, but I didn't like what I was doing.
By the end of the weekend, I was exhausted, not from the company or the extra work that goes with it, but from me. I was tired of the invisible pressure.
I was trying too hard to make my kids into what I thought they should be.
I want my kids to have Christ-like character traits. I want them to be Christians. But sometimes, I am conforming them to Christianity, rather than letting Christianity transform them.
I've seen kids raised in Christian homes, sent to Christian camps, schools, surrounded by "Christian" things, only to go wild and delve into sinful activity when those restraints are lifted.
I'm not against raising our kids in positive settings. I think they all have their place. But in every child's life, at some point, there will be testing. If they've only conformed to Christian practices and standards without being transformed by Christ, they will fail.
My greatest desire is for Jesus to be real to my kids. I want them to turn to Him, even before they come to me. I want them to know Him, to fellowship with Him, to touch the scars in His hands and tremble at His holiness.
And this won't happen because I demand behavior that I deem "Christian." I honestly think that making them conform to Christianity at every turn is harmful.
It's my job to lead them to Him. But then I have to step back and let Him move in their hearts.
I waved goodbye to the guests and determined to bestow grace on the people in my house.
Saving grace.
I'm raising my kids to be Christians.
But He will turn them into disciples.
"Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it." Proverbs 22:6
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Aug 12, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40: 28-31
:angel:
I'm Glad I Finished A Half-Marathon. Once.
Aug 14, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I don't love to run.
Edit: I don't run.
It's just never been the exercise of choice for me. Zumba is more my style.
But there are times when I want to run a race. [I don't know why either.]
In March of 2011, I finished a half-marathon in Seaside, Florida.
[That sentence originally said "I ran a half-marathon" but if you knew the ratio of run to walk that I did for those three hours, you would accuse me of lying. And you'd be right.]
I was way behind my three friends. I mean WAY behind them. As in, Katie finished in two hours, I finished in three hours and twenty-five minutes.
We all knew it would go like that. No one was surprised. I'm slow, it's just my way. So I ran the race alone after about the first mile when my friends jogged away and I stopped to work out a calf cramp situation.
A long time later, as I turned the corner at the 12th mile, with just 1.1 miles to go, a figure was coming towards me, jogging. I kinda rolled my eyes, thinking, "Why would someone be doing the first half of the race when it is ending?" And by "ending" I mean that the bus had already driven by me at mile 10 to see if I wanted to get on it and quit the race.
Slow, y'all. I was slow.
As the jogger got closer, I realized it was my friend Katie.
She had come back to meet me, wherever I was on the course, and finish the race with me. So we ran, for 1.1 miles, and we talked about what my friends had been doing while waiting on me for the last ninety-six minutes, I kept asking her exactly how close we were to the finish [I'm sure that wasn't annoying], and she reminded me, over and over, that she was there, and that we were about to finish.
And that day, Katie reminded me so much of Jesus.
I'm glad I finished that half-marathon because I saw Jesus's love at the end. It made the whole race worth it.
By: Annie, Annie Blogs
:angel:
When You Want To Run
Aug 14, 2012 01:10 am | Karin
The first time I wanted to run I was eight years old. I had a little orange suitcase, and I packed it full of socks. I guess I thought the most tremendous crisis I would face would be... cold feet.
I made it as far as our hallway door. I reconsidered, deciding that maybe my bedroom would be more comfortable. I unpacked my socks. The morning came... and I no longer felt the need to run.
I have had the urge to run several times in my life. (I am pretty sure that urge hit me this last week at some point, while the crescendo of whining pierced my thoughts).
The thing is... am I running to or from?
I have run to... college, graduate school, my husband, motherhood, vacations, locations.
As I think about this, I realize I have run from the same.
Not permanently, and sometimes only in my mind. Don't we all do this? Allow ourselves the fantasy of running away when the reality is just too much work... when it doesn't "feel" right... when it isn't what we expected it would be.
Maybe it's the expectation that distorts the beauty of what each person, each place, and each situation holds.
My mind's eye sees precisely what I want it to be... when that doesn't match the view I see before me... the thought enters...
run
Where does this mental running take me? To the next place... to the greener grass... to the glass half full.
The truth is... the mental running takes me from something far more valuable.
Right here. Right now.
Right where He has put me... with the gifts He has given me.
What do you do when you want to run?
Be still
B ehold the beauty of where you are right now
E xpect change ~ when it's His timing
S upport your husband, children, family, friends ~ it will take your mind off yourself
T ake time to enjoy now ~ it will be gone too soon
I magine what good you can do ~ today
L ove God ~ know that He's got your back
L ive and laugh and love ~ the glass is full
No socks needed... no cold feet.
Psalm 46:10
"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth."
By Karin, Sunrise with a sixpack
:angel:
Close Calls
Aug 15, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance
It was instinct and adrenaline, a hopeful protector but futile shield:
"Close your eyes, Abby."
Impotent words, like the reflex a mama uses when brakes are slammed and her arm flings across the front seat of the car.
The big sister in the driver's seat says it to the one born 18 months after her, before her brain has time to process their perilous and present reality.
She's lost control of her car and it's spinning spinning spinning and no one wants to see what happens next.
Before the car landed on the wrong side of the road, bruised in front, battered in back and windshield shattered, I wonder if their young lives flashed behind squinched shut eyes. Did angels embrace them?
I had hugged them goodbye 14 hours earlier.
* * * * * * *
It was rare gift–
a week-long visit with my sister, brother-in-law and two college-age nieces, something that has never happened before and will likely never happen again. Nine of us sardined into our small German apartment, learning how to share a single shower, a solitary toilet...life. It was crazy/wonderful.
My sister and I have almost always been close, bound more tightly due to the death of our mom before she had the chance to buy our first bra. We needed each other though I suspect we didn't realize it so much back then.
That's why I've always delighted in my nieces' interaction with one another–they're about the same age difference as we were, and their friendship is as thick as the sister-blood running through their veins. While my own daughter fiercely loves her two younger brothers, I've sometimes felt like I failed her by not providing a sister.
Living on top of one another for a week ~ and I do mean literally when driving short distances ~ we collectively dismissed convenience, privacy and loss of comfort; minuscule price to pay for my family investing a week with us in Germany. My brother-in-law would call such inconveniences "first world problems" because, h e l l o–we're living in and they're visiting EUROPE!
I've never before seen seven days fly by in such a hurry.
* * * * * * * *
The sisters...
my nieces...
their daughters...
make the nine-hour return flight home without incident.
My sister and her husband planned a few more days exploring Italy on their own, a rare treat and an early celebration for their 26th wedding anniversary. My husband and I joined them the first night.
Beneath the backdrop of verdant mountains whose peaks shyly hid behind clouds, my brother-in-law softly emptied his thoughts: how fortunate we are to journey this grandeur, something our own parents never experienced before death. He also admitted a little guilt of the parental variety, questioning their decision to stay longer but sending their daughters home.
Within hours the girls would have a tire blow out and be spinning out of control on I-985 just outside Atlanta, 30 minutes from home.
Thank you, Jesus, thank you, Jesus...they were the ones to tell us.
* * * * * *
There's a happy ending to our story–miraculously no other cars were involved and my nieces weren't injured.
A thousand "could'ves" and "what ifs" creep into our mind, and the only response is to dismiss them with praise and gratitude to the God who loves them more than we do.
But "what if" what "could've" happened, happened? Would we still be praising and thanking God who loves them more than we do in the face of tragedy?
It's a valid question, isn't it? Because life can be so hard....
As I consider our (in)courage community, I know many dear ones are facing challenges, and heartbreakingly, even tragedy; not every story has a happy ending or the one we'd choose. Just remembering Sara reminds me when thousands longed for a different ending, and yet God deemed her worthy to tell that story. Sara's exquisite testimony continues to travel far and wide because she chose joy in the face of painful human tragedy.
When (not if) you face a time when your faith is tried, when you want to shake angry fists in the face of God, cling to Ancient Truth, our hope, our healing. My eyes and heart are steeled towards God when I remember ~
His story is being told through my life; only in Christ's presence am I am capable of rejoicing always despite circumstance, and that's the story I so long to share.
His ways and thoughts are not like ours, and though it won't always make sense from an earthly perspective, His is infinitely better. (Isaiah 55:8-9)
Everything...everything...is beautiful in God's time. (Ecclesiastes 3:11)
Every circumstance in my life can be used for my good, God's glory and the advance of the Gospel. (Even the hard or horrible ones...especially the hard or horrible ones??)
Close calls provide opportunity to consider what I hope my response would be in a worst-case scenario, when the actual outcome is far better. And when the circumstance is "worst-case," I'm thankful for the truth of 2 Corinthians 1:3-4:
No life experience is wasted ~ that is grace upon grace! During the storms, God is refining, maturing and conforming us to the image of Christ; eventually, in turn, to be able to encourage and minister to others who find themselves in similar circumstances.
Do you have "close call" stories to share? How has difficult life circumstances enabled or emboldened you to minister to others? Or how has someone else's experience been precious to you?
by Robin Dance, a seeker of Truth and beauty.
:angel:
If only you saw what I can see.
Aug 16, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver
I have a confession.
And it's an embarrassing one.
But I'm going to tell you anyway.
I love that pop song by the teenage boy band, What Makes You Beautiful. And when I say I love it, I don't just mean I think it's catchy and will hum along should it happen to come on the radio. Oh no. I mean that I will search it out on the radio, crank it up and sing along as loudly as my far-from-teenaged lungs can manage. I mean that I have convinced my four-year-old it's our favorite song. I mean that I have been driven to defend it to my friends who point out (and rightfully so, I suppose) that I am about 20 years past that band's target audience, and don't I feel just a little ridiculous?
Yeah, I really love it.
Why? Why am I obsessed with such a fan of this silly song? Is it that the first notes of the song (and the video, if you must know) echo the song Summer Nights from Grease, one of my favorite musicals/chick flicks/movies ever? Is it that I admire the songwriter's audacity to consider rhyming "make-up" and "cover up" acceptable? Is it that I simply love the floppy hair and sweet harmonies of British boy bands?
Um, no. (Although, I'm not going to start lying now. I do love every single one of those things.)
I love this song because it says the words I long to hear. At first, I only recognized my desire to be seen as beautiful. I mean, really, what girl (30-something years old or not) doesn't want to hear someone say this? "You're turning heads when you walk through the door. Don't need make-up to cover up. Being the way that you are is enough."
Despite that ridiculous rhyme in the middle, those words are sweet. And sometimes a person just needs to hear that she's beautiful!
But this song speaks to a deeper desire than just that. If I take the lyrics of this song to heart (I'm not saying I do, but maybe I do.), I begin to think, even if just for the moment that it's airing on the radio, that I have something special to offer.
You're insecure (don't know what for!)
If only you saw what I can see!
Everyone else in the room can see it,everyone else but you.
How many times have I wished, so desperately, that someone would notice me? That someone would recognize my potential? That someone would look me in the eye and say, "Hey! I see you. I see you, Mary. I see you and I understand you and I think you are fabulous. God has given you amazing gifts, and I can't wait to see how you're going to use them. You are His wonderful creation, and I see it."
I don't think that desire ends with adolescence. I think that desire lives in many of our hearts our entire lives. And that's why I'm not actually all that embarrassed to belt out this song as I cruise into the grocery store parking lot or preschool pick-up line.
Throughout my life I've been blessed to have a few people who have said those words to me. (Granted, they neither rhymed nor danced while saying them, but I'll take what I can get.) Most recently, my friend Janet has sat across the table from me and shared the most kind, encouraging, I-believe-in-you words I've heard in years. That conversation – or, more accurately, those multiple conversations, because she has continued to feed my spirit with encouragement – changed my life. It really did. Those words healed so many hurts and eased frustrations and, I'm not kidding, changed my life.
I'm beyond grateful for that friendship and those conversations. That's not to say my needy emotional tank will stay full and I'll stop loving What Makes You Beautiful and boy bands. But it does mean that I've been thinking more lately about who I need to say those words to.
For the past few weeks, my church has shared a series of messages about just this. We've heard about how God speaks to us – or sends others to speak to us – to tell us, "I see something awesome in you." Of course we all have unique gifts, talents, personalities and experiences inside for someone to notice, but this series has been a great reminder that a few things remain true for every single one of us. So I want to tell you something.
Hey. I see you. Yes, you, reading this post
and wondering why on earth someone would write hundreds of words about a boy band pop song.
I see you, and I think you are fabulous.
You are God's wonderful creation. He made you, and He loves you.
He loves you so much He sent His son to die for your sins.
Yeah. That much.
And He made you for such a time as this, for the place and time you are living right now.
He made you for this, and you are going to shine. I just know it.
I see you, and you are beautiful.
If only you saw what I can see! Really, if only you saw what God can see. You may not know you're beautiful, but I promise you are. Just read these words, these words that are so much more true and real and important than any pop song lyrics:
Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother's womb.
I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.
(Psalm 139:13-16, MSG)
You were created by God. And just like when He created the first man and woman, "God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." (Genesis 1: 31) He knows you. He sees you. And He thinks you are wonderful.
Has anyone ever told you how beautiful (wonderful, talented, special, amazing) you are? Have you heard God, your very Creator, tell you those truths? Do you believe it?
:angel:.
By: Mary, Giving Up on Perfect
:angel:
When Grown Girls Need A Dad
Aug 16, 2012 01:10 am | Amber Cadenas
I'm riding out the storm in my car.
My husband and I fought, and the fear hounds fierce, so I take keys with trembling lips, my eyes a dam ready to blow. No one warned us marriage could be this hard, this quick – a nonstop flight from wedding fiesta to furnace, no layover in honeymoon bliss. On my way to the door, he catches me, looks me in the eyes, says he loves me so much even though the anger's hot. But I drop my gaze, mumble a weak "I love you, too." I can't flee fast enough.
One mile down the road, I pull into the park's lot, far from the one car that remains. The engine dies and I howl with the wind bending trees outside my door. Fingers on the phone, I wonder who to call in this state of hysteria. And I am hysterical. Better not inflict this on anyone. Better not call someone who needs an explanation, when I don't really know myself. I drop the phone and my head against the steering wheel. The only one I know to call is my Dad. He's the only one who will understand.
It's Father's Day, and my dad's nearly four years dead. But I know another Dad who will answer.
I rifle through CDs, desperate to find the one I need. It's all scratched up in a homemade paper envelope, but I think it's the one. I slip it in and wait. The music of the first song slices the aching silence that holds my wailing, and I know my Dad has answered the call.
One thing I know that I have found
Through all the troubles that surround
You are the Rock that never fails
You never fail
One thing I know that I believe
Through every blessing I receive
You are the only One that stays, You always stay
You never change, You're still the same
You are the Everlasting God
You will remain after the day is gone and things of earth have passed
Everlasting God
I'm here an hour and a half, reclining in my seat, weeping and singing, praying and resting. I watch the wind whip the trees, the light slowly fading as day prepares its bed. A familiar peace seeps into my heart, a voice on the wind whispering, Be still, child. I am here. Tense muscles and swollen eyes relax into invisible arms. I am not alone here. Not anywhere.
He comforts me through song,through wind, through silence. There's no other place I want to be; I am as an infant soothed in his arms. And finally I know, that he's got us in his hands – both of us – as he has the whole world. I'm crying now for love, for the Father who loves me fierce and steady and true. I love him because he loved me first. I love him because he'll never leave. I love him because, no matter how bad it gets, this world is not all there is. He has not left us as orphans.
Words from long ago resound in my heart, bringing the night full circle: "And they will call him 'Immanuel,' which means 'God is with us' (Matthew 1:23)... And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6).
Yes, he is all these things – and infinitely more – in less than two hours. I can return home.
I step inside the door, my husband rises from his seat and opens his arms, and we embrace in messy love.
Thank you, Dad.
By Amber Cadenas, Beautiful Rubbish
:angel:
Why It's Okay to Not be Okay
Aug 17, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines
When we pulled in the driveway, I saw a blue bird flit across the yard, the crispy grass a perfect backdrop. I noticed how good the sunshine is and how good it is to see life in contrast. I spent weeks in the hospital with my little baby who is one year old but the size of a 6 month old. My milk and all the food wasn't enough, but there were good things stacked in the mail and tomatoes to eat here before going bad.
Before we left for the hospital, I felt somehow that I might be in shock. The words "Failure to Thrive" and "Starvation Mode" in association with my own child, those words don't move me like my brain is telling me they should. Isaac is yelling from way up in the tree, and Jude runs in screaming "Emergency! Emergency!" I go out to see my oldest floating in brittle vines about 3 stories over my head. I shake all over and talk him down. Suddenly I fear they'll slip through my hands like water. What of the time we have; what am I making of it? And yet, peace like a river. I do have that peace like a river.
We live in a realm that we can see, the realm where synapses fire and connections are made. In the seen nerves get shot, puppies bark all night, we run out of money, and children get sick. Here we file in pews and respond with appropriate gestures. We all do our very best to make it in the fragile seen places. And then there is this other place, this place of the unseen – the secret place of prayer, of richness, and of safe deep-unto-deep.
Often we say that we wouldn't survive if _________ happened. I'm learning that we can give the Holy Spirit more credit than that. Often we like to think we know how we would act in a given situation, but the truth is that we don't. News that your baby is cratering can give you the feeling that all is at storm, but your boat is calm.
We're not in the clear, here in the seen, this world of trouble. Jesus himself said so. But He said He's overcome the world. So there's a place we go, even when we fail to not be anxious and when our pinched nerves are flaring up – there's a place we go where Jesus can look back on this earth in past, present, and future tense. We sit outside of time with Him a little, and I look at my babies and our generational struggles, and I know we are overcomers in a troubled world.
That's why it's okay to not be okay sometimes. His peace river is trenched low-down deep, and we dredge there in sorrow. That's where we find that Jesus is the very best friend.
By: Amber Haines, TheRunaMuck
:angel:
On Finding the Body
Aug 18, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne
We meet on Saturday nights (I love that our worship is on the Sabbath) and we just jump right in. Sometimes we pray first, sometimes we pray in the middle. We always pray at the end.
We ask God to gather in, to have the Holy Spirit be alive. We each come to the "spiritual potluck" with a dish. One that is from our own gifting, one that God gave each of us.
Sometimes we sing, sometimes not. We wait on God, so there are pauses (sometimes awkward, sometimes not).
Then we break bread together. We each bring something for a meal and partake together with all our (many) children. It's beautiful.
But that's not all.
We live life together during the week, too. Prayer needs, many times in person, are met. Gatherings to laugh and be silly are had. Birthday parties for the kids. Movie time for the guys. Chat time for the ladies. Decision meetups for the parents to decide the faith-path our kids will take.
There are leaders, but there is no hierarchy. We are each there to edify the Body. We are vulnerable and (because we want to be) a bit in each others' business more than I'm used to (I say that as a former shut-in) and it's all love. So much love.
We might disagree and then agree, or maybe we didn't even notice because it was all fine again and smoothed over so quickly. Because the Spirit is so incredibly alive. And powerful. And in charge. And the head of this ekklesia we call church.
This is the Body. I can hardly breathe for the grace. It's immeasurable.
***
By Arianne
Have you found a church Body you can live life with, grow with, worship with, edify and be blessed by?
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Aug 19, 2012 02:20 am | incourage
But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise;
God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.
He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.
It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption.
Therefore, as it is written: "Let him who boasts boast in the Lord."
1 Corinthians 1: 26-31
:angel:
He didn't make me fast, but I still run for His pleasure
Aug 20, 2012 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
Do I? Or do I not? These are the Shakespearean-esque questions I ask myself around 4 p.m. on a daily basis. It's not just a moral dilemma, or an emotional pondering, or even a battle of the will.
It's all those, and so much more for me.
I'm asking myself whether I should tie up my laces and run.
Not run from some personal problem—I mean literally run. To pound the pavement of my suburban neighborhood, with one foot in front of the other, watching the sprinklers with the kids squealing and the teenagers sitting on their hoods playing music whiz by. Or rather, crawl past me at a snail's pace. I'm not a very fast runner.
This is my dilemma almost every late afternoon.
While I haven't been consistent as I had hoped this year (spring in central Oregon is cold, I tell you), I have run more in the past few months than I have in years.
And there's just one difference between all my years of feeble attempts to "get back in shape" and this year... it's my reason for doing it.
Sure, I want to see my pre-baby body again. I'd love to reward myself with ice cream after dinner because I burned calories earlier that day. And nobly enough, yes, I want to be a role model for my kids and be a mom who cares about her fitness.
But those aren't the reasons I'm exercising anymore. Well, okay, those are some of the reasons, but they're more byproducts to my current single, solitary focus.
Which is this: to honor God with the body He gave me.
That's it. And I know that's a Sunday school answer. But it's hit me like a ton of bricks the past few months how I write off making exercise a priority because of time, or tiredness, or even more ridiculous—it's really not that important.
It is important that I take care of this instrument that carries my soul around on this earth, if for no other reason than to give Him glory.
I've been reading Gary Thomas' new book, Every Body Matters, and it's constantly hitting me square between the eyes. Listen to this:
"Christians who don't take their health seriously don't take their mission seriously. What we're really saying is, 'My life doesn't really matter.' But because of the ability of God to work powerfully in any repentant sinner's life, every body does matter."
My body doesn't really belong to me anymore, so really, it's a matter of stewardship, not personal glory. It's about taking care of these muscles, bones, and this skin on loan to me from my Creator.
If I sound like I've got this down pat, think again. I daily battle my will, and many times, I cave. Just ask Kat, my accountability partner. Every Friday, I DM her on Twitter with how much I exercised that week, and there are times when it's not pretty.
But I get up and give it another go, because I'm blessed with two legs that can run, arms that can lift, and a heart that can pound. As Thomas also says in his book, "What if exercise and discipline in eating isn't as much about physical health as about honoring the God who made us?"
Exercising regularly isn't a sure-fire ticket to a long, happy life, disease-free. I know that. But there's something about moving my body and working up a sweat that increases my overall zest for life. Just as sitting on the couch is a downward spiral for me, so is working out an upward one—I think better, sleep better, love better, and work better, all throughout the day. It's as though my body is doing what it was created to do.
Regardless what happens to me in this life, I don't want to be guilty of sullying up my earthbound vehicle, much like a teenager who tosses fast food wrappers in the back of her dad's borrowed car. I want to say this:
"If I'm going to hurt in this fallen world—and everyone of us will—I'd rather hurt and be sore getting in shape than hurt and be sore because my body isn't fit." -Gary Thomas
I'm sharing this to encourage me just as much you, because it'll help me to reread this post on those days when I don't feel like pounding the pavement once more. I'm very much on this journey with you.
I'll end this post with one final thought from Thomas: "By God's design, we are a people with souls who desperately yearn for intimacy with God—people whose souls reside in bodies that can hinder or help this pursuit. Which will it be?"
Join me, will you? Let's exercise our bodies together, if for no other reason than to sing praise to our Maker.
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
Wanting More
Aug 21, 2012 01:10 am | Elizabeth Johnson
Sometimes I lay in bed and cry my heart out. I lay there, needing to go to sleep, but overwhelmed with the desire for more.
I plead with God for more of His mercy, more of His blessing, more of His exceeding abundance in my life. I want more of what He has in store for me, those things that are wondrously beyond my imagination. I want more of what only He can give.
And you know what?
If we ask Him for more, He will answer. He will bestow great blessings on us. He will shower us with His amazing goodness and loving-kindness. He will overwhelm us with His incomprehensible peace.
But first, we have to ask for it:
"Call to me and I will answer you,
and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known."
Jeremiah 33:3
It takes humility. We must realize our need for Him, admit that we are helpless in ourselves. Admit that we are weak. We must bow before Him and cry out for His divine power.
It takes faith. We must believe that He will do amazing things. We must trust that whatever He does (or doesn't do) is absolutely perfect for us. He rewards that kind of faith. He blesses those who call on Him, believing that God rewards those who go to Him in faith.
It takes passion. We must admit our need, believe that God will answer in His perfect way – and keep on asking until we see His answer! He doesn't want a lukewarm, shrug-your-shoulders kind of request: He wants your impassioned heart-tears, your soul-so-full it throbs with feeling. He wants you to ask, and ask again, until you hear Him answer.
And when we do that? When we throw our cares at His feet, begging Him to work, trusting that He will do so?
He answers.
Because He is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, by the power of the Holy Spirit, who dwells within us.
Because His riches are glorious, and immeasurable, and unsearchable. And we are His heirs, entitled to receive of those riches.
Because He is King over all that has been created; He owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and the wealth in every mine.
But first we must call.
If we call, He will answer. If we cry out for Him to work, He will do amazing things. Things beyond our comprehension.
So what mighty works are you waiting for God to do? What great things are you craving for your life? Call on Him!
"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think,
according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church
and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen."
Ephesians 3:20-21
By Elizabeth Johnson, DogFur and Dandelions
:angel:
How Many Bites
Aug 22, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth
My kids and I were eating lunch on the National Mall when large drops of rain escaped from the clouds. We quickly wrapped up our food and headed to the Metro station. Concerned a bigger storm was brewing, I wanted us to get on the train as quickly as possible. Since food is not allowed inside the train cars, I instructed my kids to hurry.
My son held up a small piece of his hotdog and said, "I'm almost done, Mommy. I have about 4 more big bites left."
As someone who takes rather small bites of food, I stifled a giggle. I could have had that hotdog down in two bites. Then I thought of my husband. He could have had something 3x that piece of hotdog down in one chomp, a feat that amazes me.
Sometimes, life is like eating a huge sandwich, but not everyone eats the same sandwich and even when we do, we don't all eat it the same way.
All humans have different capacities when it comes to handling various circumstances. How easy it is to look at our sister and think, "Why is she so upset over that? It's not a big deal. I've handled worse."
When instead we are called to encourage one another and lift up one another in prayer. The time we take to judge could be better spent praying for that individual.
I write this post, because I've been the person who has judged and I have been in the other role as well. What about you?
Hebrews 10:24 – 25
And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another —and all the more as you see the Day approaching.
By: Angela Nazworth
:angel:
10 things You've Got to Know About Fear {Giveaway}
Aug 23, 2012 04:10 am | Ann Voskamp
I mean, that's what they say.
That people's "number one fear is public speaking. And number two is death."
So some crazy comedy guy asks, "Does that seem right?
That means to the average person, if you have to go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy."
And when your bags are packed and you're 24 hours from standing with a microphone on the Women of Faith stage, Lord willing and if the creek don't rise, I confess — none of that's particularly comforting.
But that He says it about 365 times in the Bible, Do not be Afraid — one assurance for every day — so the women of faith believe and obey, and the rock solid truth He won't ever leave or forsake, and there isn't a thing in this world that can ever separate us from the love of Christ — this crazy farmer's wife putting all that in her bag. She's flying with that.
And these 10 Things to Know about Fear:
1. Don't fear failing. Fear not obeying.
2. Fear is a fraud.
Nowhere on earth is beyond the reach of God.
3. All fear is but the notion that God's love ends.
4. Your fears don't decide your fate — your fears destroy your faith.
5. We must do that which we know we cannot — to prove that it's our God who cannot fail.
Our God appoints those who will disappoint — to point to a God who never disappoints.
5. Everything your Father has for you — is over the fence of fear.
6. Travel in the direction of your fears — to let God direct your life.
7. Fear doesn't stop the really bad things as much as it stops you from really living.
8. It's impossible to simultaneously feel fear — and give thanks.
9. Fear is always the flee ahead. God is I AM and His presence fills the present moment.
Just. Rest. in. Him. in. This. Moment.
10. Do not feed the ducks, or the bears, or the fears. Feed your soul — on the Word that is the Bread of Life.
So this heart's ready — relying on Him.
Bags are packed.
Fears won't be checked. {All lying fears have been kicked to the curb.}
Flying in the morning.
And before the sun sets here on the farm, I see it there out the kitchen window, there off the front porch —
That the geese are flying high — straight into the sun.
~ from Ann Voskamp's Jesus-trusting heart to yours
:
:
"I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart.
And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid." ~Jesus John 14:27 NLT
Giveaway: Want to pack your faith bags and fly straight into the Son?
Leave a comment by Saturday at 8 am EST (we'll update this post with the winner) — telling us why you are done with fearing that thing that's been stalking you because your God is bigger –
and we'll enter you to win:
1 gorgeous Redeemed Purse (embroidered with Truth: You are found and treasured: 2 Thess. 2:13)
a set of beautiful Grace Studs (etched with the promise: You are God's Redeemed, Accepted, Chosen Expression of His Love)
One Thousand Gifts: a Dare To Live Fully Right Where You Are — and the accompanying gift book, with selections from One Thousand Gifts and photos from the farm (to tuck in the bag — a perfect read for anxious hearts...)
So, jump into the comments right here and let's cheer each other on — and tell us why you're done with fear and living on the wing of His perfect love that casts out all fears ...
:angel:
Because We All Need Somewhere To Belong
Aug 23, 2012 01:10 am | Jacque Watkins
I first met them last year, while walking the downtown streets of San Juan. We happened upon a small chapel on our way to the El Morro Fort, and really, who could miss the sight of them? Pigeons. Hundreds of them, everywhere.
We tiptoed calmly among them, and one step must have been too firm, because dozens of them flew into the sky at once, almost on cue. Don't ask me how they knew which of our steps warranted their unified ascent, but the crazy thing was, they didn't fly away. No sooner had they taken off, they landed right back on the plaza, returning to the exact spot where they began. They were a unified front who flocked together, taking flight periodically and then always returning again. They did this over and over, no matter how many footsteps interrupted them.
This year, we took the kids to meet the Puerto Rican pigeons. We found them in the same plaza where we met before. They landed on the kid's arms, perched themselves on their heads, and dozens tried to eat right out of their hands.
And no matter how many people walked through the plaza, they stayed. This was their community. It is what they knew. The plaza was theirs. The tree was theirs. Even the wall lining the plaza was theirs. They didn't fight and they didn't leave, because this was their home.
And I'm sure, if we're ever in San Juan again, we'll see them–the community of pigeons known for living in the plaza.
And today, I'm really longing for us all to find community like that.
To find our "people" and hang together.
To fly together when we hear threatening "footsteps" coming,
To stick together and protect one another,
And return again and again to "our place".
Because as women, we tend to be flighty. And sometimes it's just easier to leave the flock–less of a hassle to occupy the same space.
We get threatened when everyone wants to eat out of the same hand, because we forget there's always plenty to go around.
We compare and measure ourselves short, over and over again,
And we decide to quit risking–decide to leave everyone behind, and become isolated and alone.
And the problem is ... being alone just won't work.
Because, we need each other.
We need the one who'll signal us all to fly.
We need the one who signals us to return.
We need the one who's perched in the tree,
And the one whose view is from the ground.
We need the big one and the small one,
And the gray-and-white-spotted one...
Because everyone has something unique to offer. And what would community be if there was no diversity at all?
And so today, if you have a community of your own, give thanks for it.
And if you have not yet found your "people", I'm praying you can find them. I'm trusting you'll reach out and take a risk, and find a beautiful community right where you are.
Because just like the Puerto Rican pigeons, we need one another.
Because there are few things as lovely as synchronous teamwork–pulling together and cheering each other on,
Few things as wonderful as giving our strengths, and receiving from others what we lack,
Few things as sacred as protecting, trusting, and caring for another ...
Together building a place we're known for.
A place that's ours.
A community where we belong.
Do you have a community to call your own?
What has been your biggest challenge finding or staying in community?
How can we pray for you?
:angel: :angel:
The Soundtrack of Our Lives
Aug 24, 2012 01:20 am | The Nester
Do you ever experience something wonderful, heart gripping, awe inspiring, moving or other words like that and then right after it's over worry that you'll forget that feeling? I have. I've wondered if I'll forget how I felt when my boys were little. Wondered if I'll forget how Christmas felt when I was a little girl, and wondered if I'll forget how I felt on the first date with my husband.
My most recent experience that I didn't want to forget was how it felt in Tanzania. The people, the places, the feelings. Oh, to forget would be so tragic. And then I heard two songs. Two songs that I happened to listen to on the airplanes and on the buses on the way back from the centers. Songs I listened to while passing Mt. Kilimanjaro and after meeting Topiwo's family.
And all the feelings came rushing back.
Music can be magical. And just like a smell that can take you back to childhood, music can put you right back into that place you were.
Now that I've learned that music can take me back to a moment, a season, an event, I've tried to be aware of the fact that I can pick out music, listen to it during something and then I'll get those feelings back whenever I want.
If I want to remember the people in Tanzania I listen to Come by Here from Shaun Groves
I see Tanzania when I hear Such Great Heights performed by The Section Quartet (written by the Postal Service). The song doesn't really have to have anything do to with the experience, that's the beauty of it!
Here's my oldest when he was two: Chris Rice Deep Enough to Dream
Here's our first date, our first date really was seeing George Winston play.
Here's Christmas when I was a little girl, my Grandma sang this song right along with the Andrews sisters.
The song they used in my sister's book trailer, when I hear it, I'm thrilled all over again about her book. Lesser Love by Will Howard.
I'm currently picking out some songs for autumn. Songs that will bring me back to this season of life one day.
What about you? What songs take you back? Have you ever purposely chosen a song to represent a season of your life?
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Aug 26, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
~Psalm 139:7-10.
:angel:
By Grace Alone {And a Giveaway!}
Aug 27, 2012 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard
David wears his brokenness on the outside. He is missing fingers on his left hand, he's extremely small for his age and he can't speak with words. When we are out and about, we can't hide his imperfections. They are obvious.
In the early days when David was an infant, I kept trying to think of a way to fix his brokenness. I wanted to make it okay. I wanted to make it better. But in the end, it is what it is. David has seven fingers, and no matter how hard I try, I can't make more fingers grow. The only way to make it okay, was to accept it. To accept the brokenness and to let it hurt. To let it be imperfect. To let it be awful and dark and ugly. And then move forward in grace. In accepting the brokenness I have found hope and beauty. I'm learning that it's by grace alone we face each day.
The amazing thing about wearing your brokenness on the outside is that it breaks down walls. I can't pretend we are perfect—our imperfections are obvious. Our struggles are known to anyone we encounter. And somehow, I think it makes us more real and approachable.
Last week I was at the grocery store and a woman came over to me. "He's adorable", she said, referring to David, "How old is he?"
"He just turned ten", I said, with pride and overflowing love. This conversation isn't unusual. I love to have people engage in conversation with us when they see David's differences. But on this particular day, the conversation took a turn I didn't expect.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes, "My son committed suicide a few years ago." Her eyes searched deep into mine, hoping that if she looked hard enough she could find understanding. She knew that my mommy heart had been broken too. She wondered if there is some kind of glue or tape or string that could help put it back together again.
So I hugged her. Right there in the grocery store. And I told her that life doesn't go the way we think it's going to go. I told her I'm learning that even in the midst of the brokenness, we can find beauty. It's by grace alone that we are able to face each day. And she nodded. She doesn't wear her brokenness on the outside like David does, but on this day, she decided to open up, be honest and let it show.
We are all broken and it's by grace alone we face each day.
I couldn't be more excited to share the updated 'By Grace Alone' necklace with you. It's been one of our best sellers with DaySpring and it's back, ready to encourage you or a friend. So much meaning packed into three little words. You'll find it on sale today ($10 off!)–so hop over and check it out.
By: Lisa Leonard
:angel:
Where Life and Death Meet
Aug 28, 2012 01:20 am | Jamie S. Harper
Source: extraecclesiam.wordpress.com via olives! on Pinterest
My grandpa died today. I think of him, of life and death, of those who have gone before. My dad. My granny (grandpa's wife). My great grandparents. Jesus on the cross.
I think of how I want to paint a beautiful picture, but I feel small and unable. I wonder if my timid words can paint graceful pictures in which you read and think of how lovely the words come together.
Paradoxical is the place where life and death meet.
We grieve. We laugh. We hug and hold hands. We ache. We live in the midst of pain.
It is not only this way when death comes. It is every day – the push and pull of beauty and ashes, gladness and mourning, praise and despair.
I dip my finger into the ashes and make colors there, grays, blues, greens, yellows, oranges, reds, and more. I spread them onto the canvas and art is created from mourning and despair.
I weep because the picture is unfinished yet, but I see that where pain turns to praise, beauty unfolds naturally.
I've seen it, experienced it, my life of despair in a pit, hopeless and alone, now healed, whole, and set free to run wild and unrestrained.
I image that's what Heaven is like only better. No more aging body full of decay to slow us down. No weeping or despair. No lonely days. All hope is there, but still offered here.
So for you who are still in chains living heavy and oppressed, This Crazy God of Grace wants you to know – He heals broken hearts, He sets captives free, He gives light to the darkness, He comforts all who mourn.
Where we've been broken, devastated, and ruined, He rebuilds and restores. I know you may not think it possible, but I've lived enough to know it is true. He loves me and you deep, high, wide, and long, through and through.
He removes the sackcloth of mourning and clothes me with Jesus. This sweet life giving Jesus lets my roots run deep and wide, my branches reach out looking for His light, giving shade to the weary. I am an oak of righteousness to display His splendor. I bend and sway when grief and storms come. Though painful, the branches that fall purify me.
You can be planted in this grace too. May your pain find His everlasting joy here today!
{inspired by Isaiah 61}
By Jamie S. Harper, Brown Paper and Strings
:angel:
Unglued Mama Mornings
Aug 28, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
As we enter the new school year I'm making a bold commitment: No more unglued mama mornings. I want our mornings to go better this year with less frustration, yelling, and chaos.
I started thinking about this last spring when we had a string of really hard mornings.
One day, as I pulled up to the school, the atmosphere inside the car was thick with tension. Not wanting the last words spoken to my daughter to be harsh, I tried to change the course of our conversation before she headed into her day. "Listen, I love you. I'm sorry we had a rough morning."
"We always have rough mornings," she shot back before slamming the car door.
Nothing quite makes a mom feel more successful than a little dialogue like that.
As I rubbed the stabbing feeling in my chest, I thought, "Something has got to change. Each day I promise myself I won't yell at the kids. But each morning something triggers me and I just lose it."
Ever been there?
It's not like we wake up in the mood to get frustrated with our people, right? I mean honestly, I usually wake up in a pretty good mood. But then the stress of getting everyone ready and to school on time makes the crazy creep in.
This one can't find her shoes. That one needs a report printed and we have no ink. The bread for sandwiches is still at the grocery store because I forgot to buy it yesterday. And to top it all off, I have no cash to give the kids so they can buy lunch at school.
The whining. The complaining. The feeling that I can't ever get it all together. It all escalates and sends me over the edge.
Well, I want this school year to be different. I want to be like our key verse today describes: "made new in the attitude of my mind." (Ephesians 4:22-24) The Greek word for "made new" is kaino. One of its definitions is uncommon. I want to be an uncommon calm in the midst of chaos and an example of peace for my kids in a world of pressure. For that to happen, I came up with a plan:
Tell the world to wait.
When I wake up, my mind is like a dry sponge. What I soak up first will saturate me most deeply. If I don't want to be consumed with the stresses of my day, I must soak up what will renew my mind instead — God's Word. Even if it's only for 5 minutes, I've got to put the world on hold until I've checked in with God.
Remember I'm managing blessings.
If I want my attitude to be made new, I must keep things in perspective. While my frustrations seem big, things like lost shoes and less than perfect lunches aren't big problems. They are small aggravations that come with managing blessings.
Let my kids own their 'irresponsibilities.'
My kid's irresponsibility will not become my emergency. I need to communicate my expectations so they know they're going to have to own the consequences of their choices. For example, if they wait until the last minute to print their report and the printer has no ink, they'll have to print it at school or turn it in late. Either way, I can't own this situation and let it throw me into frantic, fix-it mode. I can let the consequences of my kid's choices scream, so I don't have to.
All of this is going to take some intentionality and I seriously doubt I'll do it perfectly. But I'm excited about trying. I'm excited to "put on my new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness." Which is a fancy way of saying I'm excited to have less unglued mama mornings and a lot more peace this school year.
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:
Love Them Well
Aug 29, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
"We're praying for this next chapter," I heard the greeter mention to someone as they walked out of the sanctuary. I glanced up to see who she was addressing, and my sweet friends came into view.
"Chapter, what chapter," I inquired? Anticipating the announcement of an engagement or a trip, or some other fun endeavor, I smiled, and snagged a big hug.
She paused, grabbed my hand, and whispered, "Paul. Cancer. It's everywhere. It's in the bones, liver and gallbladder. There is no cure."
My hug deepened and slowly, raw emotions started pouring out in the form of that huge, soul wrenching, ugly cry. For me, it's an act so foreign, I wasn't sure where to go with my response.
Ever so quietly, I heard her state, "I want you to sing." My sobs intensified.
Today, as I type, tears fall to the keyboard just thinking of those private moments this past Sunday.
I gazed into her eyes. Eyes of a true servant. Eyes that mimic Oswald Chamber's words, "We have to pray with our eyes on God, not on the difficulties."
That is their life testimony. A couple whose eyes continuously gaze on our Savior. Words escaped me, and all I could get out was, "You two are the hands and feet of Jesus."
She comforted me with the assurance , "It's Ok to be sad, we've been sad." Then she added, "But pray that. Pray others will see His faithfulness. Of course, I pray that we would be healed from this disease, and that ultimately His plan is complete healing on earth, but if it's not, we want people to see Jesus through this."
We continued to share. I continued to cry, and as we closed, I declared, "I don't know what to do. What can I do?"
Ever so simply, she commanded, "Love him well. Grab your husband, and do something fun. This month, I want you to say, 'We are going to go have some fun together in Liz and Paul's honor.'"
Love him well.
Applicable to my own life, I've extrapolated that to, Love them well.
Can it really be that easy?
Daily reverberating through my mind, those three little words, Love them well, have made their mark.
You see, I'm a live Life with no regrets kind of gal. I'd like to even think I'm quite intentional with my choices. Next month, I host the Becoming Conference- a weekend designed to bring encouragement and tangible ideas for becoming more frugal, creative and purposeful in our every day lives. It's going to be a weekend of refreshment for all walks of life.
Yet while I have pages of ideas to share, filled with creative and meaningful ways to be more intentional with our time, resources, and families, none of those hold any meaning unless I Love them Well, unless the best intentions take flight.
This past week, those words really hit me hard, because while I have loved my family deeply, I have not loved them well.
My blog is filled with the theme: Embrace the little things, they are most often the big things, and yet all month I've been too busy to savor those little things. I've been too busy to seek meaning and magic in the mundane.
Yet, that excuse is a lie. I find the time for those things that I really want to do.
Busyness is a choice. Busyness robs me of community, and it's my excuse for the ultimate reality which comes from not guarding my moments well.
Loving well looks different for each family. For me, I needed to nurture the small sacred moments that I've been missing. I needed to be present and available, not just living among them.
So yesterday, when our youngest daughter wanted to play salon, which always lasts at least an hour, I changed my "No," to "Yes," and reminded myself that I will never get these moments back.
When our eighteen year old walked in the door at 11:00 pm wondering what was for dinner, I remembered the whisper, "Love them well." While it would be a completely acceptable reminder that the kitchen closed hours ago, I made him some dinner and listened to stories about his day. Even though exhausted after a long day of work, I just wanted to be with him; to share Life with him.
When my eldest daughter wanted to watch TV, freeing up some computer time for me, I insisted, "Let's go outside for a walk and enjoy time together. It's such a beautiful day."
These moments, once spent, can not be reclaimed. Guard them wisely.
Love them well. Love them deliberately.
Three simple words which yield a radical response.
Love them well.
It doesn't have to be complicated.
Love them well.
It just has to be done. It's a choice.
Simple. Deliberate. Intentional.
Love then well.
And now, in honor of my special friends, I'm off to plan a hot date for my honey and me. It's been too long. I need to Love him well.
How are you doing with loving your family well?
Has busyness robbed you of any sacred moments lately, or maybe you have some encouragement for those trying to be more intentional with their time?
I'd love for you to share in the comments.
(Shared by Jen Schmidt, author of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam)
:angel:
When Your Journey Leads You Downhill, God Will Make a Way
Aug 30, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
When your faith journey leads you downhill — with fears and anxiety overwhelming you — how can God make a way?
I inched along my familiar walking path. Uphill.
My legs plod ahead on auto-pilot, just like the countless times they've done along this dirt trail.
The wind is blowing gently, the air still crisp because the sun is still rubbing sleep from its eyes.
I can't seem to feel comfort from any of it.
I'm waiting for peace to seep into me, like it always has whenever I escape into the quiet. But early this morning, it felt like I was walking knee-deep in snow. My feet felt heavy like lead, even though I was simply stepping through summer air.
There was no snow-covered mountain for me to scale.
But, deep in my heart, there's been an avalanche.
A crushing weight of pressure to perform. To shake whatever's bothering me. To move ahead and just get back to being me: the one who can take action. The one who knows how to make decisions — to set a goal and climb mountains until I've reached the top of Mount Everest.
But, I can't shake it.
This avalanche of worry.
Avalanche
This avalanche of
– doubts,
– questions,
and imperfect choices.
It's not the first time I've faced uncertainty. That isn't what fazed me.
No, what I fear wasn't the unknown.
What I feared was the certainty of what's ahead.
The journey God's placed me on isn't going to be easy.
I wanted to find another way out, but anxiety wasn't going away.
I stopped mid-way on the side of the mountain, overwhelmed by how alone I felt in that moment.
Why wasn't God helping me find a way out?
I had been praying night and day, meditating on Scripture by the bulk, confiding in godly counsel, and seeking Him in all the ways I knew to do.
Time was running out. Days grew into weeks. Weeks into months.
Where are you, God?
The View
I don't know how long I stood there crying into the wind, as the rolling landscape I have always sought refuge blurred into a wet, blurry kleenex-emergency mess.
I didn't want to hike any longer. I turned to head back to the car. The morning was rising and I didn't want any passer-byers to catch sight of my puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.
As I made my way down the mountain, something caught my eye.
Far to the right of my shoulder, I see...
Orange.
Flecks of orange scattered out between the expanse of brittle, yellowed dried-out shrubs of summer.
My steps carry me quicker downhill.
I want to get closer. This color — so brilliant. So vibrant.
I don't remember seeing any of this on my way up. I whisper. What is it?
Poppies.
Golden, tangerine, California poppies dotting the hills.
And I wonder. Was I so lost in my avalanche of worries that I missed all this going uphill?
I must have been looking so intensely on my path winding up, that I didn't see the view on either side.
Sometimes determination — having been useful in one season of life — can hold us captive to keep barreling forward, instead of hearing God whisper, "Let go. Change course."
Sometimes the time for determination expires — and walking by faith by letting go begins.
Determination can leave us blind — or we can use it to walk downhill.
To still waters.
Downhill
I didn't see any of these quiet petals blooming among weeds, reaching out softly among the cindery, worn out soil.
And just like the delicate petals of poppies I stooped down to trace gently with my fingers — I felt God speak straight into where my heart could still hear Him:
The view downhill, Bonnie.
There's beauty here. Just for you. Downhill.
Downhill? I don't want to go downhill. I've always traveled uphill.
But, here Jesus was leading me.
God was making a way for me.
It's downhill.
Was I willing to travel this way with Jesus? Will I trust him in the descent — as passionately as I trusted Him in the ascent?
I don't know... I choked, my heart breaking in surrender.
If you promise there will be poppies. If you promise there will be beauty — among the weeds and the barrenness — if you promise me you'll still plant golden petals of Jesus, I will go downhill... with you.
Soil
As I made my way down the mountain, I took the fork in the road that led to a creek downwind — that carried me to a meadow — where a big oak tree sprawls it's long arms across the sky, like lightning across a desert sky.
There, at the bottom of my hike, I closed my eyes and stood silently to pray.
Give me courage to walk downhill, Jesus.
As I whispered out to Him again, I notice the ground I'm standing on is wet from the morning dew.
Soil. Wet. Rich.
Soil.
You are good soil, Bonnie.
And God's words thundered on my soul like wet rain on a sweltering summer day —
"I don't think the way you think.
The way you work isn't the way I work...
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
and don't go back until they've watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
not come back empty-handed.
They'll do the work I sent them to do,
they'll complete the assignment I gave them."
~Isaiah 55:10
I laughed. I cried.
This avalanche my soul's been covered with — this avalanche of worry — cannot keep me from God's ways.
God will make a way to me — even in this avalanche.
God is already making a way in me -- because His word is in me.
It's that simple.
It's that profound.
It's that true.
Whisper To You
God's word in you — all those quiet times you've savored and swallowed His words –
– whether on a written page in Scripture,
– in the voice of a friend praying with you,
– in the stars you see at night,
– or the sun that warms your skin by day
... God's word in you is not going to return void.
You don't need to know how it's going to happen. Just keep walking in the direction He is calling you to enter.
His word — alive in you — and me — through the heartbeat of Jesus in us — will not fail to bring you through.
Jesus is here to stay. His words are going to blossom, no matter how dry or brittle the soil is.
Because you see — poppies are drought tolerant. Their beautiful petals thrive on well-drained sandy or cindery dry soils. At night time or during cold, windy or cloudy weather California poppy flowers close.
But, when morning comes or the weather conditions pass from harsh to mild, poppy flowers open up and stand in the brilliance of color.
There is another view for us to journey through — you and me. And I'd like to whisper some good news to you, as it was spoken to me.
You. are. good. soil.
There is a beautiful view for us to take in.
It's not one we can see going up uphill.
This is beauty that moves in, with the midst of morning dew – as we journey downward.
Downward. It's the kind of beauty that the One who created you promises to blossom in you. It's His seed — His word, coming alive in you.
You and I will see it emerge together. Down by the oak tree where our journey downhill will lead us. Right next to cool waters of the creek hidden below. Even when it's sown in tears and sorrow, I'll see petals of His love and His presence, opening up in you.
God Will Make A Way
Today, if you are staring downhill, hesitant to begin — or continue — your faith journey as it leads you to descend where you once stood — know for certain: God will make a way in the desert.
You and I don't have to do a thing, other than crawl into His arms that are reaching out to embrace you. He has already made His way to where you are standing, waiting and wondering.
He's made a way into your heart — and He promises to never leave — because He has made His home — within you.
The desert and the parched land will be glad;
the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, it will burst into bloom...
Encourage the exhausted, and strengthen the feeble.
Say to those with anxious heart,
"Take courage, fear not.
Behold, your God will come...He will save you."
Isaiah 35:1-4
~~~~~
What is God whispering to you on your faith journey today?
How is God making a way for you?
Pull up a chair. Click to comment.
We encourage each other, sharing the journey. As is.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Swap stories & join Bonnie on her blog — as she journeys ahead with faith friends along the way.
:angel:
An Open Letter To The Girl In The Dressing Room.
Aug 30, 2012 01:10 am | Lauren Alexander
Photo Credit
Precious girl,
I don't know if you meant to weep that loudly or not. I'm not sure if those were quiet sobs that had reached the point of no return, or if this was actually your way of pulling back the curtain on your pain for all to see – what the mirror has done, the lies it has told you, the way it has limited and so poorly defined you.
I so connected with your feelings that I was ready to barge in that dressing room at Lane Bryant and take your face into my hands like you were my own sister and tell those feelings that lie to you what's up. Aren't you counting your lucky stars that I showed shreds of self-control? Plus, the thing about barging into strangers' dressing rooms to preach a Psalm 139 sermon is that law enforcement might not take too kindly to it.
I too remember the stores, the feelings of failure and inferiority, the ways those images I saw in the mirror morphed into these big lies I started to believe about me.
The Enemy had a field day with me.
But he won't get you like he got at me if I have anything to say about it. Look, I know this next part will make you all kinds of uncomfortable. At first. But I will pause to pray right now that you could trust me, a stranger...and trust the heart of a God who is enthralled with you.
I just wanted to pass a note to tell you that you're so lovely.
That red hair–did you know women spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to get their own strands shaded the way God has so artfully hued yours? It was shiny too, and if you write back, please let me know what products you are using because I would also like to use them since they ARE WORKING AND EVERYTHING. But I digress.
Your skin with nary a blemish– as I watched you try on some things that didn't fit and get discouraged, what you couldn't see was just how beautiful you looked in so many different colors. God made you a special canvas to display His glory, friend.
I know it sure doesn't feel like that now. I completely understand. But could I pause to tell you a little secret?
Satan keeps lying to you in those dressing rooms and messing with your image of yourself in that mirror because he is afraid. He's afraid of what will happen if you offered the beauty of your brokenness. He's scared of what will become of his treachery if exposed by God's glory inside you. He knows the most powerful thing in this world is somebody who knows who they are and WHOSE they are...when we take off the smock of lies we've donned and exchange it for a garment of strength and dignity.
I heard it in your tears: deep vulnerability.
"You see, beauty indwells every woman.... it reveals itself for a moment, then fades back into cover. Usually it comes when she doesn't know it...Rather, something is happening that allows her defenses to come down for a moment. For instance, when someone is listening. She knows that she matters. Someone cares about her heart, wants to know her. Her beauty emerges as if from behind a veil." Captivating, John and Stasi Eldredge
Come out of that dressing room and offer your precious beauty to a world that's truly starved for it.
{And don't forget to bring your hair products.}
Love,
Lauren from The A* Team
:angel: :angel:
Falling for Fall {5 Things to Do Now}
Aug 31, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
I love fall. I love everything about it. Yes, I know in some parts of the country the arrival of Fall also signals that a long cold winter is near. But I don't like to think that way. I don't want to live in dread of a cold dark season when I can enjoy the gifts in front of me right at this moment.
I like to embrace Fall as something special that happens just once a year, from September through November. The sometimes still warm-enough sunny season when leaves are turning brilliant shades of orange and brown and red, nights are cool and cozy and the smell of pumpkins, cloves and cinnamon fill my kitchen. That is a great season!
I try to find something to love about every season, but Fall is definitely my favorite.
While we are still in summer mode around our house (school doesn't start until next week!), I am starting to let my mind wander to all the things I love about Fall.
Here are 5 things you can do right now to embrace the season ahead!
1. Slowly transition from summer decor to fall.
I love to use subtle touches rather than go all out with theme or seasonal decor. Perfect fall decor for me would be a few leaves, pine cones, moss or apples gathered together in a simple centerpiece. I've written a lot about Fall decor, you might find some inspiration by scrolling through my Fall decorating category on my blog.
2. Do some early Fall yard clean up!
I shared lots of tips here for things you might want to think about now to prepare your yard & garden for fall.
3. Finish your outside painting projects!
Once the weather gets too cold you can't paint outside any longer so give your furniture and accessories a fresh coat of paint while you still can! I recently painted a Goodwill owl by taking him outside on the lawn to spray paint, you can see how he turned out here!
Now is also a great time to get that front door painted so it will be fresh and pretty for your seasonal wreaths and welcoming guests! I'm speaking to myself here, I've been dragging my feet forever on deciding what color to paint mine. Here are some pretty door colors to inspire you!
4. Establish Fall homemaking routines.
I have several homemaking routines that I use to keep my life sane. My house is not perfectly clean by any stretch of the imagination, but the regular daily routines I've established help keep my house from getting out of control. Fall is the perfect time to just say no to CHAOS and get yourself going on a few simple routines that will make this season more enjoyable!
Here is a post outlining my daily routines:
Four Simple Homemaking Routines {How I Keep My Home Clean Enough}
5. Prayerfully set Fall goals and set up or organize your family command center.
Fall tends to be the season where kids go back to school and life goes back to a regular rhythm. For most of us that rhythm can be at quite a fast pace, so a command center (I use the chalkboard, in the photo above) and a few Fall goals can help ease that transition!
Here are a few posts to inspire you as you get organized for Fall:
When Good Enough is Good Enough
When You Think Your House is Too Small to Be Organized
God made Fall beautiful in so many ways, it really is my favorite season.
What is your favorite thing about Fall?
Every year (for the past five years!) I host a big month long Fall Nesting party at The Inspired Room. If you want inspiration for getting your home in order and pretty for fall and the upcoming holidays, join us at The Inspired Room anytime!
:angel:
Chapter 1, Food: Guest Post
Aug 31, 2012 01:15 am | Hayley @ The Tiny Twig
Americans seem to have a love/hate relationship with food. On one hand, we appear unable to gather without food. On the other hand, eavesdrop on a group of 10 or 20 women long enough and you're bound to catch wind of someone's issues with weight or diet. We look to food for entertainment, comfort, and pleasure. We oftentimes seek convenience before nourishment.
A significant portion of most families' monthly budget go to food. But, are we spending more than we need? And are we spending our money on quality or ease? These are uncomfortable questions, especially when the lines between "needing to eat" and "wanting to eat" are so easily smudged.
I should first admit, I read 7 as a passive observer. As much as I'm inclined to crazy projects and self-imposed plans, I decided to read 7 and take in the wisdom without feeling compelled to mimic the actions. And, because I read for the enjoyment of the words, the words are what stuck out to me. Instead of feeling solidarity in a loathing of dry chicken breast, I felt joy in the prose. I loved that Jen repeatedly talked about not making 7 into law. I read her words and ran with the heart of her ideas.
This stuck out to me. This challenged me. This started a chain reaction in my life. This chain of letters, these lines and words, these are what have started a months long look at what it means to have and to have not.
I thought about these seven healthy foods jam-packed with nutrition, fueling my body. My energy has doubled and I feel really good. I have the luxury of eating healthy, organic food, an extravagance in most of the world...I realized my slightly reduced life is still extraordinary in every way. There is no end to my advantages. For whatever reason I was born into privilege; I've never known hunger, poverty, or despair.
What started out as a discussion about a fast from food, quickly turned from a millennia-old practice into a modern day challenge. How can I celebrate being in such excess when others have so little? How is it possible to continue to live in such a way, knowing full well how little others have. These thoughts bled slowly out of the kitchen and into all my waking (and non-mealtime) moments.
My heart turned toward living in a way that allows my life to have a beautiful cadence. One where the "haves" and the "have nots" dine together and are celebrated equally. My desire turned to parenting my boys in a way that would illustrate to them that the pizza delivery on a Friday night is an absolutely extraordinary blessing in the scope of the world's population.
There was an article recently that got my heart aching and my mind racing. Did you know that 40% of the food in America goes wasted, yet 1 in 6 American's haven't enough to eat? Clearly, this is not a supply issue. The problem isn't that we have too many people to feed, or that we cannot grow enough food to feed the hungry. The problem is, the "haves" are taking more than we need without thought.
I started to wonder, if I was more careful with my grocery planning and budget, could I give that money to feed local people who are hungry? Our church has a food pantry, and it is running terribly dry. Even in our affluent county, there is a high need for food. So, recently, I've decided to carefully plan our meals and buy only what we need. With the newly found room in our grocery budget, I'm buying items on the "most needed" list for our food pantry. A 44 cent box of cornbread mix isn't much to me, but it's a lot to a momma who is struggling to feed her babies.
By Hayley at Tiny Twig
***
Did Jen inspire you to stick to 7 foods for a month? Did this chapter make you step back and reflect on what you're serving on your dinner table each night? If Month One of 7 made an impact on you, we want to hear about it! Link up your posts below or share in the comments!
:angel: :angel:
Sunday Scripture
Sep 02, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
~Matthew 11:28-30
:angel:
What Your Difficult Today Really Means
Sep 03, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
"We serve a God who does way past your way past." Priscilla Shirer
She sobs a puddle in my arms, and I find my own tears mixing in with hers.
"Mama, sometimes I just want to be able to do the one thing I can't do."
Haven't we all felt this way?
It's been 8 months since Faith's surgery correcting her broken neck, and we rejoice the surgery was a complete success. She is able to participate in miles more than we were told would be possible. But as far as those miles take her, she can never resume her first love: gymnastics.
Most days, she plays contentedly with pretty cartwheels and whatnot. But from time to time the itch to push the limits of what is physically wise surfaces, so I furrow my brows and break out the dreaded no. Her two closest friends are knee-deep in gymnastics, therefore reminders and conversation surrounding the sport lean close. And while Faith generally doesn't mind this and has made leaping strides in accepting she can't further participate in gymnastics herself, she misses it.
She pulls away from my arms, watery doe eyes looking straight at me. She shakes her head and sighs,
"Nothin' is as fun as gymnastics."
I tell her it's okay to feel that way. Because there ain't nothin' fun about dreams dying or loves leaving.
She genuinely gives thanks for so much. She knows when God closes one door He opens another. She believes in faith that something better is coming tomorrow, even if she can't see it today.
But...
Today it hurts, and the pain of today makes the promises of tomorrow feel far away.
I read words from Ephesians, where Paul writes of our God who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think. God's dreams for us are way past anything we can fathom. But even if we know that we know this is true, today it hurts.
In the Faithful Abundant True Bible study, Priscilla Shirer explains it this way:
"His way past is so beyond our wildest imagination that it doesn't necessarily mean it's a matter of making us happy right here and now. His kingdom purposes are so beyond. They are so grand and are being worked out in such a way that they might be beyond our mental capacity to comprehend."
He uses everything – especially our unhappy todays – to prepare us for His promise of better tomorrows.
My eyes move further back in Ephesians, and I see Paul mentions "the unsearchable riches of Christ." A bit more research and I am amazed by the translation comparisons for these unsearchable riches, or rather His extraordinary plans:
Endless treasures.
Unfathomable riches.
Immeasurable wealth.
Inexhaustible riches and generosity of Christ.
When our hearts ache over lost loves or dying dreams, we latch onto healing and hope through faith that God has a game plan in store for us that will blow our ever-loving minds. Because God's 'way past' dreams for us make our own look like the dollar store variety.
It isn't easy to believe His 'no' today is for a better 'yes' tomorrow. But God is good all the time. Everything is a grace from Him, even our unhappy todays.
How do you latch onto hope during difficult todays? How have you seen their purpose in creating better tomorrows?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Be Brave
Sep 04, 2012 01:10 am | heather
To live life to the fullest requires one to be brave. After all, life is an adventure of moving from what is known to what is new. It's a journey that requires both courage and faith. Looking back, every life altering decision I have ever made proves it to be so...
Accepting that first dinner invitation from a handsome boy with the kind blue eyes; the boy who would, one day, become my husband. Brave.
Picking up stakes and moving away from my roots in order to start a new life after college graduation. Brave.
Leaving my career so that I could be available to my children full-time, even when the budget said it was impossible. Brave.
Starting the process of bringing home our fourth child through domestic infant adoption. Brave!
Every one of these milestones in my life required more courage than I can muster on my own. And yet, a refusal to step in faith, because of fear, would have denied me great blessing and purpose in my life. It's not that I am a naturally courageous woman. To the contrary, my first inclination is to hunker down and take the safe road. Still, when God puts His best in front of me, I am challenged to be brave. By His power, I want to see what is on the other side of that fear more than I want to hide in my bunker. I suspect I am not alone. In fact, it's a familiar battle waged in the heart of every believer. The unknown is scary. But faith in God trumps fear. Every time!
The Bible declares that God wants His people to be brave. "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." (Joshua 1:9) As women of faith, we are not exempt from that challenge. To the contrary, we are called to walk in faith in spite of our fear.
Consider Deborah. One of the great judges of Israel, Deborah led her people during a time of overwhelming cruelty and oppression. Despite her fears, and I am sure she had them, God called Deborah into battle. Courage, coupled with complete faith in God, led Deborah to grand victory and her people to deliverance. I believe that God used this single woman, the only female judge in Israel's history, to teach us that women must not shrink from life's challenges. Like Deborah, we are all called to be brave, to leave our comfort zones, and follow God's lead.
Confucius wisely declared, "a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." What he failed to point out is that each single step will require faith and courage you do not possess on your own. Deborah had to follow God and leave the security of her judgement seat in order to win victory on the battlefield. The same is true for you and me today, dear sister in Christ.
So, Dear One, put on your armor, take a deep breath, and pray for courage. Then take that first step out of your comfort zone and resolve to follow God's call on your life. To be sure, it won't be easy. It's okay to admit you are afraid. But, the world is waiting. The time is now. Go on, Daughter of the King. Put your faith in action. It's time to be brave.
:angel:
By Heather Arbuckle
Encouragement is a Powerful Thing
Sep 04, 2012 03:43 pm | Mary Carver
I walked quickly through the parking lot, pulling my wiggly four-year-old along, sweating and praying I could make it to the car before the tears spilled out.
No such luck.
As I reached my car, I heard my friend holler out her window, "And just where do you think you're going? Hold on! I'll pull around."
And so she did. I opened the door for my kiddo and turned on the car and its blessedly cool air conditioning while my friend parked her car next to mine and waited for me to walk around to her. Before I could finish saying, "Hey . . ." the stupid tears were slipping past my oversized sunglasses and down my red cheeks.
I told her my story, sniffling and rolling my eyes and whisper-shouting so the kids wouldn't hear. Like a good friend, she agreed with my take on the situation and said the words everyone longs to hear in the midst of an angry cry: "You're right."
She didn't stop there, though. As she maneuvered her two little boys and newborn baby girl out of her van, she said, "You let me know what I can do. If you need me to babysit or host some play dates, I'll do it. I'll help you! I want to help."
Then, after I tied her baby wrap and waited for her boys to move away from my car, we laughed at our awkward parking lot dance. She said, "Oh, I wish this wasn't happening right now. I know you want to leave." And I thought, "Oh, I'm so glad this is happening right now. What a blessing I would've missed if I'd already left."
It was just a moment – and just a chance meeting, really. As my friend pulled into the parking lot, flustered with her own story, she had no idea that I was speed walking to my car, overwhelmed with mine. But she knew, when she saw me, that I needed some encouragement. And despite the three kids in her car and her own frustrations and worries, she took a few minutes to listen, to hug, to care.
And it meant a lot to me, that caring, that friendship, that encouragement. Because encouragement is a powerful thing. Whether someone has died, moved, gotten a new job, suffered a disappointment, gotten engaged or just found out that she accidentally enrolled her daughter in the wrong preschool class, a kind word goes such a long way.
How do you encourage friends and family? How do they encourage you?
:angel: :angel:
The Particular Problem of Stripey Flats
Sep 05, 2012 01:10 am | Flower Patch Farmgirl
Six months ago, I whittled my embarrassingly vast wardrobe down to nine paltry items for thirty days, on journey with Jen Hatmaker's 7.
Today, I stomped around town in pink and orange striped flats, bought for a song at our local grocery store.
These flats encapsulate my inner struggle so perfectly that I'm tempted to leave well enough alone and let them do the talking. But in the end, no one can be expected to concentrate when it comes to talking grocery store shoes – no matter how cute they are.
Here's the deal, I'm not really "that girl". That girl is off somewhere teetering around in four-inch Louboutins, or at least wearing trendy jeans, right? She's not you or me. She shops online under cloak of night. She stuffs bags in the back of the closet when her husband isn't looking. She maxes out all her cards. She's the one who has the big, bad problem. Not this girl. This girl doesn't shop that often. She always pays cash. She's not a name-brand sort of girl. She finds bargains that will make a weaker sister weep.
Do you hear that? That's the sound of rationalizations, or as I like to call them, lies.
Because the real truth is, I just really love buying clothes. Clothes I don't need. Clothes I don't even love. I can't possibly be expected to go to TJ Maxx without bringing home a new shirt. I skim those racks so fast it would make your eyelids twitch and oh, will I ever snap something up. It might be a seventeenth gray t-shirt or a thirtieth striped little number. It might possibly be an ill-fitting prairie-girl blouse that I will never wear but that I must have because I'm stuck in a short-lived cowgirl fantasy.
What I'm trying to say is, I'm Pavlov's dog and "clearance rack" makes me drool.
When I read 7, I did what any fashionista (recovering, repressed, or otherwise) would do – I stuck my head under the covers and tried to believe that the problem wasn't mine. I stayed there longer than you'd think, but every time I poked my head out, my closet stared me down, the stacks of "smart" purchases sneering back, daring me to tell the truth – that I'm consumer-driven. I care more than I should about my image. I'm greedy. I'm entitled.
So, I jumped in. I fudged Jen's number (I promise, it's allowed) and picked 9 items to wear for a month. (You can read all about it here.) In the end, I survived. In many ways, I thrived. And okay, fine, there were isolated moments of muttering unkind words about Jen Hatmaker under my breath as I pulled the hateful red Henley over my head for the umpteenth time.
March came and went but part of me remained changed. No, I didn't burn my entire wardrobe when the month was up. I didn't even donate it to charity. But I now take a harder look at the $12.99 wonder making eyes at me. I'm uncovering the unique beauty of being content with what I already have and, even more shocking, what my kids already have (that's a whole 'nother post).
I have 30 days of proof that what I wear doesn't make me happier, smarter, or more interesting. I don't need three kinds of gingham competing for my attention. Life without stripes is still worth living.
I'm not there yet. I'm still right here, a mess of humanity in frivolous shoes. But my one-month experiment with 7 brought me closer to the edge of less me, more Him. That's a journey worth taking in any old shoes.
By Shannan Martin
:angel: :angel:
Community matters
Sep 05, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance
It was good and it was grace and it was gift I never expected; in fact, I had imagined the opposite.
Headed to a place thousands of miles from home where we didn't know a soul, not speaking or understanding the language, differences in culture and customs, there was ZERO expectation of finding community. Sure, my husband would be meeting people through work, but how long would it take me to meet people. And not just how long, but how?
An overseas move, even if it's only temporary, requires enormous preparation. With a mile-long Must-Get-Done List, it was easy enough to push apprehension and fear to the farthest corners of my mind–isolation, loneliness, missing my children and homesickness–all lingered as possibility. But I was determined not to wallow in possibilities before I even left home, so I just talked to God about it and asked others to pray.
And then we landed 4,800 miles from home.
Instead of meeting isolation and loneliness, however, we found a warm and friendly people welcoming us into their homes and lives, obliterating misconceptions and perceived barriers and stereotypes.
Germans have a wonderful tradition called Stammtisch, loosely defined as a gathering among regulars. In the past sometimes associated with social status, today Stammtish is all about community, intimacy and common interests(1). Two on-going invites were extend–one my husband and I could attend for dinner each week, and a separate women's twice-a-month breakfast group–immediately brought me together with the same people on a regular basis. Our common ground was the ability to speak English, half a dozen nationalities mingling as one.
I (re)learned a valuable lesson from the generosity and kindness of these strangers: community matters.
Over the past seven months I've imagined what my life would have looked like in Germany without these gatherings; lonely thoughts answer. And though community isn't limited to those who follow Christ (i.e., stammtisch is not a faith-based gathering), when you share a common faith, roots grow deep and wide...they reach for eternity.
Because it's important to God we talk a lot about community at incourage; it's why we created an event to encourage you to connect with the women in your backyard. We know God is relational and we're created in his image. As early as Creation, it's clear humans are wired for community because it wasn't good for the one to be alone.
Finding and nurturing community makes a significant difference in quality of life and is unquestionably worth the effort.
I've endured seasons when community was ellusive and I've taken for granted times of plenty. Both perspectives inform my response to Lisa-Jo's question for us this week: "What does community mean to you?"
Community is...
an answer to prayer (Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.)
an illustration of the body of Christ ("Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body...")
In community, among the company of others...
I thrive.
I'm energized.
I'm able to give...and receive.
Wounded places are healed.
I become fully alive, more like myself than when I'm isolated.
And here's the jaw-dropping paradox:
Community doesn't happen when I'm seeking community.
Community happens when I'm seeking Christ.
"Seek the Kingdom of God above all else,
and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need."
~ Matthew 6:33 NLT
When I was scurrying around preparing for our assignment in Germany, I already mentioned I talked to God about it and asked others to pray. He knew my heart, what I feared would be lacking. I trusted this opportunity was of his choosing, for his purposes.
I didn't pray for community; I prayed that God would reveal himself in ways we couldn't anticipate, that we'd trust his leading and be Christ to those who might not yet know him.
I'm a little ashamed to be surprised at the beautiful community we've discovered. But isn't that just like Jesus to respond in a way we might not expect, ultimately far better than we hoped or imagined? How would you complete the sentence, "Community is______"? How has community surprised you?
By Robin Dance who's currently wrestling time relative to motherhood, stillness and the Divine. If you hurry there's still time to enter her giveaway for one of Lisa Leonard's Heartfelt Collection pieces.
:angel:
On Comparison
Sep 06, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
As we drive down the road, my 12-year-old daughter mopes, "Someone unfollowed me on Instagram today."
Really? My pre-teen actually knows how many people follow her and notices when when one stops?
"It's all about the numbers and how many people follow you," adds my 15-year-old daughter.
Honestly, I'm stunned.
Comparisons are helpful: when checking features on big purchases; determining the best price (I comparison shop with the Amazon app on my phone all the time); looking at nutrition facts on food packaging. When we shift our gaze to people, however, comparisons can discourage, debilitate, and depress (or puff us up with pride, depending on how we rate ourselves in the comparison).
My kids fell into the same trap that hooked me six years ago when I started blogging (and I'd be lying if I said I didn't struggle with it still): the numbers game. Why do we need to compare ourselves—or our fans and followers—to others to feel important? Aren't solid connections with names and faces that we recognize better than being observed by strangers?
But in a culture where everyone thinks they're a rockstar, what do you expect?
I roll my eyes now when Klout emails me to say that my score has dropped; apparently I don't put the hours into Twitter and Facebook that they deem worthy. Show me a score that measures face-to-face interaction, how much time I spend doing laundry, and whether my husband and children feel loved.
Can I spend so much time chasing numbers that I cease to live a life worth writing about in the first place?
I want to spend my days striving to follow Him instead of worrying about who's following me.
What about you?
:angel: :angel:
Ungodly Comparison
Sep 06, 2012 01:10 am | Sarah Rogers
God has given me the precious gift of being surrounded by a multitude of amazing women.
I have friends that I admire on a daily basis for the way that they exemplify His character, His hands, His mouth, His heart.
This special blessing is not hidden from the Enemy. He knows these things about my life.
He sees the treasures I've been given to come in contact with so many examples of godly women.
He also knows the burning desire I have to please God, to be the best me possible, to fully live out my potential...
And oh, how the Enemy can work to twist my best intentions into something ugly.
Somehow, a sense of admiration for another woman's caring deed or a godly charcteristic can quickly turn to comparison. This comparison feels justified because I'm measuring myself against all positive, God-pleasing qualities. Then, unconsciously, woeful comparison turns to jealousy and a niggling feeling of insufficiency because I'm not doing what they're doing, and therefore, God (and everyone else) must be observing that I don't measure up.
Though my mind doesn't recognize that this is jealousy at first, the Spirit alerts my heart that something is amiss with her frustrated state.
Knowing I must seek a solution in His words, as always, there is gentle but obvious nudge if I pay attention (which often takes longer than it should), and freedom settles into my wound-up heart as I read:
"You are jealous of one another...
Doesn't that prove you are controlled by your sinful nature? Aren't you living like people of the world?"
-1 Corinthians 3:3
Paul was writing to Christians. He knew that they would be jealous of one another if they didn't keep their perspectives focused on God, and was he ever so right. For when I am in unity with my Jesus, I am well aware of His specific promptings on my heart. I know when He's asking me to do something, and I know when I'm putting pressure on myself to be someone else. There's a stark contrast between His leading my life and my jealous desires to "measure up" to other godly women.
He reminds me that I can be blessed by seeing others follow Him, but I can't be bothered by it. All that does is allow division, disunity, and just plain grumpiness to take root.
Oh, the freedom He wants to let me rest in. Sometimes, my overcomplicating of His desires for me cause so much pain and so much more work for my heart. If I can just remember to rest in His plan and gifting in my life, then I can be perfectly happy when I see him working Himself out in their lives.
:angel: :angel:
You Know You're in Community When...{Link Up and Win!}
Sep 07, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver
Are you living in community?
That question sure seems to be popular right now. The encouragement to develop authentic, doing-life-together relationships with people, the chastisement to stop hiding, stop being afraid of getting hurt – it's all the rage, isn't it?
So we're all plodding along, pushing through our fears, our nerves, our past experience that tells us people can be challenging and relationships can be complicated. We're accepting invitations, asking hard questions, offering a hand or a hug to someone who needs it.
But how do you know when you're finally doing it, when you're doing life together, when you're living in community?
True community can be elusive, like the unicorn or Smurfs. But after searching for it so long with such determination, you want to know when you've found it, am I right?! Lucky for you, I've figured out exactly how to know when you've really found community – and I'm happy to share.
How to Know if You've Found Community
Now, you might think that the first clue that you've created real community among your group of friends is when you get a phone call – or worse, hear the doorbell ring – and realize your friends are going to see your not-ready-for-company house, and you don't panic. (Sure, you might shove a few things in the hall closet, but that's normal.)
Or you might think that true community is clearly happening when you get together with friends and their families, and throughout the evening you realize someone else is feeding your child while you're wiping her kid's nose and your friend just hollered at your husband for his off-color joke while her husband just asked you for the recipe for the brownies in the kitchen.
Then again, maybe you've recognized community when you find yourself needing help – a spare tire, a last-minute babysitter, a couch to crash on halfway through your road trip – and you know exactly who to call. And you don't even feel guilty or nervous about asking.
Or maybe it's when you find yourself hugging your friend's parents at the birthday party without that awkward I-don't-really-know-you-but-I'm-hugging-you feeling, texting her just to say you're thinking of her, opening drawers and looking for the salad tongs instead of asking where they are, confessing your deepest secrets and listening to hers, laughing until you cry over remember-when stories and inside jokes, or spending the night debating everything from the best season of The Office to theology and politics to the appropriate way to wear skinny jeans.
But for me, community – true, authentic, in-your-face-and-your-heart community – has never been more apparent than the night I shared with my friends that I had a bad case of poison ivy. (Yes. Again.) And their response? It was not sympathetic murmurs and gentle hugs, nor was it offers of home remedies or their own poison whatever survival stories. No, ma'am. My friends, my people, my community LAUGHED AT ME.
Oh yes! They laughed. And they mocked. And they said things like, "Really? What kind of, ahem, extracurricular activities were you doing at the church picnic to get poison ivy THERE?"
And as I sat there with tears in my eyes from laughing so hard, I thought, "Yes. This is community. This comfortable like my stretchy pajama pants, familiar as my own reflection, laugh at you and with you, call you out on your crazy and hug you through it family – this is community."
Now it's time for the $64,000 question . . .
Have YOU found community? How did you know when you'd found it?
(in)RL GIVEAWAY: Won't you share in the comments or link up your stories below? We'd love to hear your heart as we all "check-in" on how we're doing with this whole community thing.
And we'd love to give one of you who shares our brand new, hot off the presses, DayBrightener from (in)courage. It's full of quotes from this community – from our friendship-lovin'-hearts to yours!
—>snag yours over here – they're only $9.99!
:angel:
Chapter 2: Clothes- Link Up!
Sep 07, 2012 01:10 am | incourage
If Chapter 2 of 7 by Jen Hatmaker was a doozy for you, we want to know about it! It has been so interesting reading through the comments from Monday's post to hear your thoughts on clothes and excess. We're sharing a bit from Sarah and Kayla below on how this chapter changed them. Click on over to their blogs to read the full story! We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!
Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Sarah @ Truth in the Journey}
I have a confession to make. I dress the way I do so that you'll like me. You, women. I try to impress you with my wardrobe. You see it isn't just our culture that is obsessed with fashion. It's me, maybe you, and millions of other women in the church.
Why? There is a long list of reasons (pride, feeling rejected, wanting to be loved, etc.) and it's important to figure out which one is driving us. Because the reason matters. We spend money on clothes, we spend even more time thinking about them, and probably even more time coveting them. This is more than a waste of time. We're told to look to the things above, not to the things here on this earth. That isn't just a friendly suggestion. It's the reason for our very existence.
click here to continue reading...
{Kayla Aimee @ Only Slightly Neurotic}
After I read 7 I saw abundance everywhere. There was the fruitful, the "I came so that you may have life and have it in abundance" and there was the amassed, the abundance of things that I collected and held on to so tightly that it kept the former at bay.
7 changed my entire life.
But the breakthrough came in my closet. That's not even a spiritual metaphor.
:angel: :angel:
Community Brings Hope
Sep 08, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth
This past August, my husband and I celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary. During those thirteen years, we have lived in eleven different homes, in nine different cities, in seven different states, and in three different geographic regions of the U.S.
We moved. A lot.
We're hoping this nomadic lifestyle will soon come to an end, because moving that often is tough ... wear-down-the-soul tough.
The packing and unpacking are disorientating at best.
Saying goodbye hurts.
Helping your children say goodbye cuts deeper still as you kiss their red cheeks stained salty from tears.
Loading a moving van and driving it across several states with two small children in tow exhausts mind and body.
Adjusting to a new environment — navigating your way around town, finding new medical professionals, meeting with your kids' new principal,etc. — is weary-making at its finest.
Each move brought chaos, frustration, disappointment and tears.
With each move, we also uncovered joy, new mercies and hope immeasurable.
Community acted as an agent of hope every. single. time.
Everywhere we lived, the Lord blessed us with friends who became family (and some actually do share our blood). Sometimes making those friendships came easily and other times we had to work hard at bonding with people. But they were present, always. And yeah, it made moving harder ... but it made it easier too.
Our communities brought us hope both in ways we could touch and in ways we could only feel:
They helped us pack, clean, load the truck, take care of our kids, haul broken-down furniture to the dump.
My heart sisters sought out opportunities to ease my burdens and lift my spirits via sweet cards, humorous texts and unexpected gifts.
They cried with me, listened to me, encouraged me and prayed with me.
They also lent me strength, spoke truth and hugged me so tight that for seconds, no air stirred inside me.
And while every whispered "I hope I'll see you again" tugged the chords of my tender heart it also rang sweet in my ears.
Hope.
Hope for keeping bonds cemented.
Hope for healing hearts.
Hope for bright new beginnings.
It is true that Jesus is the only true source of that hope, but I am convinced that He uses community to help us embrace it.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Sep 09, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
Praise awaits you, our God, in Zion;
to you our vows will be fulfilled.
You who answer prayer,
to you all people will come.
When we were overwhelmed by sins,
you forgaveour transgressions.
Blessed are those you choose
and bring near to live in your courts!
We are filled with the good things of your house,
of your holy temple.
You answer us with awesome and righteous deeds,
God our Savior,
the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas,
who formed the mountains by your power,
having armed yourself with strength,
who stilled the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
and the turmoil of the nations.
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
where morning dawns, where evening fades,
you call forth songs of joy.
Psalm 65: 1-8
:angel:
Out of Sight, Out of Hope?
Sep 10, 2012 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
I store people.
I don't house them in cardboard boxes in my guest closet, but in tiny compartments of my heart.
They aren't allowed to change or escape from the time I duct taped them inside and labeled them with my sharpie.
For some reason I believe each person stays as they were the last time I saw them {or I experienced an expression of one of their issues.}
If I was frustrated with you, I'm certain that you're still the same as those late night conversations in college when you wouldn't listen to reason. If you were wild in high school, I'm positive that you've spiraled out of control since then. If you left me out or said something hateful to me, then I assume you're still as prickly as ever.
I stop hoping on your behalf. {And I'm definitely not praying for you.}
Part of me believes you haven't or can't change.
Trying to protect myself, I put a lid on what God can do in your life.
_______________________________
It was a moment over coffee, sixteen years after graduation. I was anxious to hear about where my friend was now. What transpired was a beautiful encouragement of God miraculously moving and healing. I was in awe of who Jesus had re-birthed this person to be.
"Wow! I would have never imagined what God would do!" My mind was giddy with my friend's redemptive story as I told my husband about our conversation.
Conviction quickly ensued. The Spirit reminded me of those I have written off or stored in a place that I can't be worried, annoyed or hurt by.
A Holy whisper to the deep corners of my heart "Isn't what you're doing a way of not forgiving for the hard times they've been through? Or how they acted when I wasn't at the center of their lives? Or for a moment of their crazy you witnessed?"
Then Jesus flung open the door to my heart storage, and with flashlight in hand, He pealed back the tape. The transformed were brought into the light for me to see. And I was reminded, again, that He can breathe new life into dead bones.
A short conversation over coffee showed me in vivid color Jesus is limitless. He doesn't work in a transformation timeline like we'd prefer. He doesn't always renew the hurt and lost before our eyes. And sometimes there isn't a completed circle this side of heaven.
Every now and then He reveals what He does when we're not looking, in the places that are dark and we'd rather not feel again. He gives us hope for the others that are still wandering with a story of redeemed life.
Jesus reminds us to expect the transformation and keep on loving.
{Maybe you're not like me and continue to hope and journey in Spirit with those from your past. But if you can relate to this revelation, will you open up one of your tiny storage boxes and pray for that person that God brings to mind?}
:angel:
The Tent
Sep 11, 2012 01:10 am | Brooke Caldwell
The clouds couldn't sleep.
All night, they tossed about fitfully,
Gray shadows churning against a black, starless sky.
An unnamed sadness weighed heavily,
Until the clouds leaned into dawn's faint light,
Releasing a downpour of tears.
I woke to the sound of pounding rain overhead,
The sky's sorrow demanded notice.
My heartbeat quickened, my eyes opened full and wide.
I began patting the ground around me,
Reaching down and feeling my feet.
Dry.
Everywhere.
Dry.
Mind still muddled by sleep's reluctant grasp,
I patted the circle of ground around me again.
Still dry.
How is it that a thin sheet of nylon,
Can act as a strong roof, four walls, and secure ground?
How is that possible?
The clouds begged me to join their distress,
To worry, to fret, to cry.
How could everything be okay amidst a storm like this?
But it was.
I let my feet push to the bottom of the sleeping bag,
Dry and warm.
I listened to the pounding drops overhead,
And I said, "Thank you."
Thank you, God, that your provision for me,
Is not too thin,
Or too weak.
Thank you, God, that your covering over me,
Is strong,
And enough.
Even when I can't understand how that works out,
I will lie down and sleep in peace,
Free from doubt, worry, and tears.
I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety. – Psalm 4:8
:angel:
Parts Of Me I Like To Hide: 8 Ways To Come Out of Hiding
Sep 12, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
"The parts of me I usually like to hide are the very parts where God is working through my life and my story."
That's what I said earlier this year, when I was asked to look into the (in)RL camera and answer how community has hurt me and how it's healed me.
I took a deep breath and started talking about how I'd been afraid to open up about bad things that happened to me out in the mission field when I was in my twenties.
I was afraid because when I returned to confide in people — people who were used to the bubbly Bonnie didn't know what to do with the broken Bonnie — the Bonnie who was hurt and confused.
Silence only meant one thing to me.
Rejection.
I resolved to let time do its healing work.
So, I went into hiding. For nearly a decade.
Parts of Me
I returned to doing the normal things I'd always done — routine and predictability. I started getting busy again, exploring next steps, to prove to myself that I had moved on.
Slowly, it seemed everyone seemed comfortable with me again. No awkwardness, no hard questions. Just smiles set out like a welcome sign to tell everyone, "Hey, I'm back."
But, inside. Not all of me was back.
Parts of me had gone into hiding — the ones most in need of community.
Inside, I struggled with fears, insecurities and disappointment. I felt tired and alone.
God eventually led me to a new community of believers who loved me as an everyday person. Because I felt accepted and valued for my everyday struggles, I began feeling hopeful. As people shared their everyday struggles with me, I began to feel safe.
Maybe they'll love me for my broken parts too? I wondered.
Many years of isolating myself in pain, brought me to a place where I no longer wanted to suffer alone. I'd rather risk hurting, than living more years feeling trapped by hurtful memories.
I encouraged the friends who were watching the (in)RL video that it's worth coming out of hiding. Because for all the people who had hurt me, God brought a new set of friends who met me on my journey — to bring healing to my soul.
I Would Not Allow Myself
Little did I know while filming that video clip — I would personally face the challenge to stop hiding and open myself into community in a big way again. Less than one year later.
Hide.
That was my default reaction to experiencing panic attacks for the first time in my life. But, after a month of continuous panic attacks and growing anxiety, I knew — without a shadow of a doubt — that I would not allow myself to hide for another ten years.
I told myself, even if I were to get rejected again — utterly rejected — I'd have to fall back on my training. My faith community training.
Do not hide.
Whatever you do, Bonnie.
Do not hide.
I wasn't going to lose ten more years of being alone.
I knew community healed me before — and I knew community would be key to my healing again. I don't say this lightly, because there is great risk in being hurt.
But, then I think: Jesus Himself needed community. Jesus confided in three confidantes (Peter, James, and John) as He broke down in His darkest night in Gethsemane. The need to relate is part of our humanity and spirituality.
8 Ways
I'm still learning this come-out-of-hiding journey, but I'd like to share 8 ways I encouraged myself to come out of hiding and open myself up to community. I hope it gives you comfort knowing you are not alone and encourage you to know you can do it, too.
1. Don't wait until you're all better before you reach out to find a friend.
Reach out now, while you're broken — and find the people who can truly be your friend. Now is the time to get the support you need.
In some cases, I asked for specific help or advice. For others, I just wanted the support. This is the jist of what I've said, "I'm going through a hard time right now. I'd like to confide in you about it, so I'm not alone in it. It's not something I need solved. But, to make this journey, I need to know someone knows and someone cares. "
This helps communicate to the other person I needed the safety rather than advice or problem solving (unless that is what you need). Because when you are overwhelmed, it's important to have the safety to feel and talk things through.
2. Assume there will be "sunk costs" in this investment in community.
I'm just keeping it real friends. There are people who have not walked this journey of transparency. Difficult emotions make them feel uncomfortable with their own anxieties and it can stress them out. So, don't take it personally if you try to make a connection and the conversation doesn't work out. Understand this person isn't the right match for this season of your journey.
Early on, I had confided to someone who said my anxieties were caused by my failure to trust God — which then plummeted me into a tailspin of discouragement. But, I kept reaching out until I found someone who could encourage me. It turns out I found great comfort in a friend I'd known for a decade, who I never knew she experienced panic attacks — until after I confided in her.
3. View opening up as an act of trust in God rather than a test of someone's acceptance of you.
Finding a friend is another way of trusting God in the journey. You're going to need someone to walk this path with you. When Jesus sent out the disciples out in ministry, He sent them two by two. The new commandment Jesus gives us is to, "Love one another, as I have loved you."
This love commandment is reciprocal, too. Jesus wants you to receive love and He will send someone to love you on His behalf. Seek and we shall find.
4. Create a list of people to confide in. Start with the most compassionate person you know and slowly challenge yourself to move down your list — as you progress further along your journey — adjusting how much you share with your comfort level.
Many of you belong to a lot of wonderful support communities (like Celebrate Recovery, AA, ...), so please share them with us in the comments.
For me, here is the list I moved down. Your list will vary, so custom-fit per your need and circumstance:
1. My best friend. My husband.
2. The most compassionate person who has known me the longest.
3. The most compassionate person who I confided in during the last crisis.
4. The pastor who mentored me.
5. The pastor who married me and Eric.
6. The pastor of my new church. (I was definitely stepping out on a limb at this point (how would he view me?). But, our conversation helped confirm that authenticity was valued in this faith community.)
7. A few closest girlfriends.
8. A Christian counselor/therapist (This was the first time I tried this. It's hard to find the right one! Another post for another day...)
9. A few colleagues.
10. A new friend I met at my new church.
11. Readers on my blog.
5. Say no — and share honestly why you can't.
This one is hard for me, especially if I feel like I should do something or be somewhere. I feel if I don't say yes, I've let other people down or I feel guilty because I've failed in some way.
One way of being open in community is honestly letting others into our world: our needs, our limitations — as well as our passion, what we value and what our current priorities are, even if they differ from others.
6. Say yes — and share honestly where you're at.
There are times God plops a wonderful opportunity in our laps — to invite us to try something new, something we really want to attempt — but are lacking confidence to commit. Give yourself permission to say yes — and share honestly the questions or hesitations you have.
You will be able to find others who identify with you — gain a friend and encourage each other through these conversations.
7. Ask others about their stories. Really listen and be present.
This is a beautiful part of community that never fails to melt my heart when I'm frozen in isolation. When we take interest in others' stories, we give them permission to invite us to the tender places. We offer others acceptance — and we receive the gift of transparency. We gain courage to be present with others and open up about our own journey in return.
8. Choose to believe God is at work in your story. He's living in you to come alongside others to live theirs.
Last, but not least, coming out of hiding is really a question of faith. If Jesus was working in me when life was good, was He still at work in me when life feels bad? Opening up to others when we are in the middle of our stories invites others to join us on the journey.
Because the truth is, there will always be parts of us God is loving us back to life.
We are all living stories being written.
We can help encourage each other while the ink is still drying.
We don't have to reject ourselves or each other.
We can step out in the open and speak fully.
We can embrace the beautiful real stories we are living, instead of hiding behind the lonely stories we wish we were living.
"Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus' sake,
which makes Jesus' life all the more evident in us.
While we're going through the worst,
you're getting in on the best!"
2 Cor. 4:7-12 (The Message)
~~~~~
What are ways you stop hiding and open up in community?
What holds you back?
Pull up a chair. Click to share a comment. Let's do a little community right here. Add to your words of wisdom to the list.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
** Psst... A special word of gratitude goes out to the people and readers who were there for me when I opened up about my journey through PTSD — who continue to be there for me now. Your love and encouragement made this post possible. I expected rejection. Instead, you chose to step out to stand beside me in the messy, sharing your stories. In doing so, you've changed my story by calling me friend.
:angel:
I Have Walls A Million Miles Thick
Sep 13, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
I read this book called, The Cure.
It opened me wide and took me back to the gospel; it's taking me back to how desperate I am for friends.
For community.
For real, vulnerable, come-as-you-are community. I want that. I need it. I'm asking God for it.
I watched 500 Days of Summer and there was a scene of a few co-workers/friends in a bar talking and laughing and singing karaoke and I yearned for that. For the fun and the real; the laughter. It wasn't about the bar or the drinking, it was about the connection these friends had.
In The Cure the authors talk about living mask free, being authentic with all our ugly. Not that we boast in the ugly or want the ugly, but that we don't hide the ugly away pretending it doesn't exist. It is so easy to tuck away the sin; the things we are ashamed about. The secrets that haunt us at night as we're falling asleep. When we keep it in the dark, it's power over us grows. But when we expose it to the light, and we let people into our ugly, and we trust people (even when it aches), sin loses it's power. We let people love us. Grace-light banishes the dark.
And we can be free.
I want that kind of freedom with friends, with community.
So here's a secret, my friends, my community. I struggle with intimacy. I have walls a million miles thick with my husband. Even kissing is hard; sometimes kissing is the hardest. When oneness is supposed to be beautiful and filling, I struggle with feeling dirty. Sometimes I want to scream, and sometimes I just cry quietly. Sometimes I'm okay, and love is good, but other times it chokes me.
In order to be intimate I need to escape myself, put myself in other places in my mind. I have to go away and become something else; I am replaced. It's how I cope, sometimes.
But I'm in counseling, and I've talked to God about it and He knows I can't fix me. I'm undone. But He weaves together, and I trust Him in this darkness because He is light.
I'm open wide and I like it because I can feel the breeze. I won't stay locked up in the dark, and I won't hide. I'll let the Holy Spirit blow through this woman and do the work.
By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel:
I Have Walls A Million Miles Thick
Sep 13, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
I read this book called, The Cure.
It opened me wide and took me back to the gospel; it's taking me back to how desperate I am for friends.
For community.
For real, vulnerable, come-as-you-are community. I want that. I need it. I'm asking God for it.
I watched 500 Days of Summer and there was a scene of a few co-workers/friends in a bar talking and laughing and singing karaoke and I yearned for that. For the fun and the real; the laughter. It wasn't about the bar or the drinking, it was about the connection these friends had.
In The Cure the authors talk about living mask free, being authentic with all our ugly. Not that we boast in the ugly or want the ugly, but that we don't hide the ugly away pretending it doesn't exist. It is so easy to tuck away the sin; the things we are ashamed about. The secrets that haunt us at night as we're falling asleep. When we keep it in the dark, it's power over us grows. But when we expose it to the light, and we let people into our ugly, and we trust people (even when it aches), sin loses it's power. We let people love us. Grace-light banishes the dark.
And we can be free.
I want that kind of freedom with friends, with community.
So here's a secret, my friends, my community. I struggle with intimacy. I have walls a million miles thick with my husband. Even kissing is hard; sometimes kissing is the hardest. When oneness is supposed to be beautiful and filling, I struggle with feeling dirty. Sometimes I want to scream, and sometimes I just cry quietly. Sometimes I'm okay, and love is good, but other times it chokes me.
In order to be intimate I need to escape myself, put myself in other places in my mind. I have to go away and become something else; I am replaced. It's how I cope, sometimes.
But I'm in counseling, and I've talked to God about it and He knows I can't fix me. I'm undone. But He weaves together, and I trust Him in this darkness because He is light.
I'm open wide and I like it because I can feel the breeze. I won't stay locked up in the dark, and I won't hide. I'll let the Holy Spirit blow through this woman and do the work.
By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel: :angel:
Who Can You Encourage Today?
Sep 13, 2012 01:05 am | Mary Carver
Last week my church finished up a series about our "blind spots." For four weeks the pastors had spoken about the people we tend to miss when we look around, the people we forget about, the people who just might need our love most of all. The pastor suggested we channel a little Sherlock Holmes as we go about our day to figure out who might need an extra smile or word of encouragement.
If you use a little deductive reasoning (or is it actually "inductive reasoning"? I could never keep those two straight.), you might start noticing that you encounter lots of people who are desperate for a kind word or listening ear.
You can share encouragement in so many ways:
Smiling at the grumpy cashier.
Looking your kids in the eyes and asking how their day went – and then listening.
Thanking your husband for grilling dinner or putting in another long day at work.
Giving your waitress a generous tip, even if she didn't keep your glass filled to the brim.
Buying Starbucks for your assistant or your boss or your children's teacher.
Telling the janitor or trash man or landscaper that you appreciate his work.
Sending your parents a letter or calling them just to say hello.
Holding open the door.
Raking your neighbors' leaves or shoveling their sidewalk.
Or – sending a card with a thoughtful word, a kind sentiment, a piece of encouragement.
I love the card selection at DaySpring. You can find beautiful cards for just about any occasion or need. Whether you need a thinking of you card, a sympathy card, a you can do it card, an I love you card, a you're my favorite person card or a get well soon card – DaySpring has you covered.
Is it possible that you know a person – or several people – who could use some encouragement? Whose day would be made by hearing that you think they're great? Whose life might be changed by a reminder that you believe in them?
Who can you encourage today?
If you're sharing an (in)spired deals story post this month, link up below!
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Making Friends with Imperfect People {Link Up Your Stories and Win!}
Sep 14, 2012 03:01 am | Tsh Oxenreider
I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression back in 2007. We had moved to the Middle East about four months prior, and needless to say, I wasn't doing well. I got pregnant about two months after our arrival, had a two-year-old to care for in a land where I couldn't speak like one, and doing the most basic of tasks was a major feat.
My instinctive reaction was to retreat into our fifth-floor high-rise apartment and never submerge myself in the culture. As someone who needs daily sunshine and exercise to feel well, I'd hole up for days at a time so that I didn't need to face the reality of life as a foreigner.
I barely knew anybody there except my husband and toddler, and eventually, it was all I could do to get out of bed and brush my teeth. I knew something was wrong when I finally admitted to myself that I didn't want to be there—this goal of living abroad and working for a nonprofit, this objective we crafted our previous stateside life around—was a dead thing to me. It meant nothing.
We invited Kyle's bosses over to dinner, and told them our suspicion of depression. Lovely, wise souls that they are, they immediately encouraged us to find help and an official diagnosis, and to do everything we needed to be well. They released us with blessing, and I'm so glad they did.
I'll spare you the gory details, but a few weeks later in central Asia I was diagnosed with "severe" depression (I had eight of all eight possible symptoms), and we were sent to southeast Asia to find help. (There's a clinic there for nonprofit workers who live abroad.)
I found medication that helped and we talked with a therapist for EIGHT solid weeks, and throughout all those hours on the couch that summer in tropical Asia, one word of wisdom resonates in my mind five years later more than any other:
It's worth it to meet a girlfriend over coffee, even if it's hard. And it's worth it to have people over for dinner, even if I don't feel like it.
Our therapist—let's call him "Roger," shall we, because that was his name—called all this a "partial solution." See, he listened to me bemoan how hard life was in the Middle East, and that I didn't really have any friends because in a city of four million people and no car, it took too long to get out of the house just to meet a girlfriend for two hours.
He countered with this: yes, life is hard. Yes, we've signed up for a strange lifestyle where we've said no to most of our creature comforts. But to say "no" because things aren't exactly how I want them is prideful and unrealistic, and that writing off almost-not-quite was to wave the white flag instead of embracing God's gifts as surprising.
So he asked me to look at my lifestyle as full of partial solutions. Yes, it would take two hours one-way to go meet a friend for coffee, then two hours back. For a total of at least six hours, just to have coffee. It wasn't ideal, but it was a partial solution—taking all afternoon to make a friend was better than making no friends at all.
And yes, having people over for dinner might mean making some cultural faux pas, or nothing turning out right because I'd have to substitute half the ingredients for my American recipes. But it's worth vulnerably putting myself out there, because the trade-off is community and friendships for the whole family. A partial solution might lead to community.
Roger's wise words still rattle around in my head all the time, as we've since moved twice more and become the new people again and again. It's scary to make that phone call and ask a new friend for coffee, and it's uncomfortable to have a new family over for dinner when your house isn't just how you want it.
But it's worth it. It might not be your best friend from college, so yes, it's a partial solution—but it's better than the alternative. It, too, is a partial solution when you go ahead and invite potential friends for dinner, even if your armchair doesn't match your couch—if you wait for perfection, you'll never jump into community.
Life is full of non-stop partial solutions. It feels good and freeing to label a situation as such, because you're admitting that it's not quite how you'd have it if you were God, but that it's okay, because you're not Him.
Don't wait for perfection. If you do, you'll never take a chance on community.
Back in the Middle East, I started meeting women friends for coffee every other week, and we'd have friends over for dinner weekly. A simple coffee date took an entire afternoon, and preparing for company filled an entire day. Partial solutions. But it was a game-changer, because we met some of our favorite people to this day, and I haven't been on depression medication for more than two years.
Vitamin D, exercise, and.... making friends with imperfect people. They'll cure almost anything.
What are your partial solutions in life right now? How are you embracing them so that you're thanking God for His unexpected blessings instead of wishing they were different?
How are you coming out of hiding and connecting with community?
(in)RL GIVEAWAY: Won't you share in the comments or link up your stories below? We'd love to hear your heart as we all "check-in" on how we're doing with this whole bravely connecting with community thing.
And we'd love to give one of you who shares our beautiful (in)RL T Shirt a reminder to wear community on our sleeves.
—>snag yours over here – they're on sale for half off – only $8.49 right now
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
Chapter 3: Possessions- Link Up!
Sep 14, 2012 01:10 am | incourage
If Chapter 3 of 7 by Jen Hatmaker spoke to you in any way, we want to know about it! The Nester shared with us this week how her stuff has affected her life. And Kylie is sharing a bit below on how this chapter changed her outlook on possessions. Click on over to her blog to read the full story! We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!
Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Kylie @ Bus Driver}
Why was this giving away of possessions so hard? I knew the truth. I knew what scripture said about the giving to the poor, of feeding the hungry and clothing the naked. I knew it meant loving Jesus to do unto the least of these. And I do love Him. So very much! Why the tension?! "This is just stuff", I'd say as I cried and filled another bin of baby clothes to give away. But the Holy Spirit had ahold and was not letting go. "This is just stuff," He'd reply, "and you're enslaved to your stuff." OUCH.It was then I learned that terms like sacrifice, rich, poor, excess... were all matters of my heart. I didn't think I had much by American suburban life standards (gag me.) But my heart was wound tightly around what I did have. I remembered a night more than a year ago when I was reading to my kids before bed and the line from Matthew 13:44 read, "then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field." I knew it meant something for me when I couldn't shake it for days. Suddenly the pieces fit together.
click here to continue reading...
:angel: :angel:
Seeing With My Heart
Sep 15, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer
I am a shy and quiet person by nature. I am not one to just start talking to a stranger. I am not one to initiate conversations. I am not one to initiate activities. So when my husband and I moved to a home in the country, I liked the idea. We lived a few miles outside of a small town.
We did not jump into the small town life right away. We shopped and bought our groceries and went to church in a nearby 'city'. People didn't know us, people didn't keep up with us. I thought that is how I would like it.
Then we started to ease into the small town life and atmosphere. We decided to embrace the life we were part of. We started getting groceries at the small grocery store, going to church in our town, and eating occasionally at the local café. It was wonderful. We were welcomed with open arms.
I guess I had forgotten how nice a small community can be.
You know the type of town where everybody knows your name and asks how you are. Where the owner of the small grocery store helps you carry your groceries to the car. Where people are genuinely happy to see you at church. Where your neighbor notices a tree fell down in your yard and offers to help cut it up and move it away. Where the neighbor with a tractor comes by to scoop the driveway after a big snowstorm.
The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. 1 Samuel 16:7
That's what it was, that was it... I needed to start seeing how God sees.
I need to start seeing with my heart and not my head. My head reminds me I'm shy and I won't know what to say and what if they don't like me. My heart says these people are put in my life by God. They are a gift from Him to me. They are a way for me to see and feel His love here on earth. They are a way for me to share the love of God here on earth.
If I wouldn't open myself up and open my heart up to my community, I would miss these wonderful people. I would miss out on what I can learn from them. I would miss the love they share. I would miss the opportunity to grow.
For we live by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7
It can feel risky to open yourself up to people you don't know. It is hard to be vulnerable and it certainly takes courage. It takes stepping out in faith. But I think it is worth the risk, don't you?
Have you had an experience where seeing with your heart was more important than seeing with your head? Have you had a time where seeing with your heart made all the difference? We would love to hear!
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Sep 16, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because,
"God opposes the proud
but gives grace to the humble."
Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
1 Peter 5:5-6
:angel:
On Giving Grace. And Then Giving Grace Again.
Sep 17, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne
This isn't something we like to talk about, but I have to ask you anyway. Let's grab a blanket and sit on the grass and scoot in close. Let the breeze bring in honesty and gentleness and let's be real.
Do you ever look around and feel like you don't fit in with your faith community?
Do you sometimes wonder why the scorecard of your Christian life has more scars than it does love?
This whole business of *being* the Body of Christ – it's not for the faint of heart, is it? It's not only for when we agree with our brothers and sisters, or only for when no one is hurting us and everything is honkey dorey. It's not just for happy times, but also the struggles. The ugly times, too. The times when we want to be anything BUT family.
I don't know about you, but sometimes that is hard for me to swallow.
I've had my share of hurts from the Body. People proclaiming Christ one minute and then lashing out with selfishness, done in His name, no less. I've witnessed the Body hurt others from afar, too, and cringed and cried at what is done to His name. The character of God being painted with a brush that I never agreed to.
But.
But they are my spiritual family. But they are His people. But he loves THEM, too.
Do I still love them? Do I give grace, and then give grace again? And again?
Don't get me wrong, I don't think giving grace and loving means agreeing all the time. I don't believe it means staying quiet or not standing up for my convictions.
But it does mean that the disagreeing, the speaking up, the standing up — it's all done with grace and love. Truly, in our hearts, loving people.
Can you do it? Can you open up a hand first, give that grace, and usher in forgiveness?
Let's take the hurt, let's have it not be in the way, let's allow grace to balm the wounds.
Let's let it go. Together.
***
:angel: :angel:
in)RL Check-In Series: Part 3 – How Do We Forgive Past Hurt By Community?
Sep 18, 2012 01:20 am | Deidra
We're spending 5 weeks chatting on the sofa over hot tea, cookies, and 5 questions about in real life friendship. Won't you join us?
09/04 Week 1: "What does community mean to you?"
09/11 Week 2: "How do we stop hiding from and open ourselves up to community?"
09/18 Week 3: "How do we forgive past hurt by community?"
09/25 Week 4: "How do we build local community: some practical ideas."
10/02 Week 5: "How do we build community right where we are, not letting circumstances limit our connections?"
Every Friday we'll invite you to share your thoughts – link up a post, share a comment, discuss on Facebook.
We loved hearing your thoughts last week on how to come out of hiding and connect with community. Congrats to Brooke who won the (in)courage (in)RL T-Shirt for the post she linked up – here's a peek – you should really go and read it:
He has given me community in a way I could have never imagined just a few years ago. He has nudged me to step out of my comfort zone, beyond the fear and risk rejection. He has encouraged me to join small groups, to volunteer with new people, to try something totally new, to take that promotion. In return, He's amazed me with how He continues to shape and change me.
And the only way to step out of your comfort zone is to lean on and rely on Him, the One you know will never reject you.
We're looking forward to hearing from you guys and blessing at least one of you each week with some of our (in)RL resources.
So, this week we're discussing how to forgive past hurt by community.
Let's not even try to pretend it's easy. Or that we should simply press through, or shake it off, or "let it slide." Perhaps, if we can just allow ourselves to set aside those silly notions, we can get to the other side in one piece. Because being hurt hurts. Plain and simple.
Here's the thing: there are no perfect people. Not even in community.
We— the imperfect — worship together, and we serve together. We share recipes and grocery shopping tips. We help each other move, and we pick up each other's children from school. We share our dreams and we confess our failures. We bake and deliver casseroles, and we wait and pray with each other in hospital emergency rooms.
It is a beautiful thing.
Until it isn't.
A few years ago, I got my heart broken, right in the middle of community. I don't think there are many hurts worse than the ones we receive in community, and I don't wish it on you. I don't wish it on anyone. Most of the time, these hurts catch us completely off guard. I think it would be a beautiful thing if no one ever had to know a hurt like that. After all, community is all about love. Right?
Even when we're at our best, hurting one another is inevitable. Because we're not perfect. And here's the subtle danger in being hurt: letting my hurt feelings keep me from ever living in community again. I can build a wall around myself and keep you at arm's length and I can do life on my own, thank you very much.
But then, what I am supposed to do with this...
You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor. ~James 3:18, MSG (emphasis mine).
This is more than building a wall, pressing through, shaking it off, or letting it slide. No, those are the easy options. The hard work is staying engaged, admitting where it hurts, offering the gift of a sincere apology when necessary, and — when we're ready — offering forgiveness.
It's true that sometimes things get more than simply messy, and then it may be time to step away. But when we're just bumping up against each other in the day-to-day of life together, accepting the challenge to stay is often the greatest gift we can offer one another.
Yeah. Let's not even try to pretend it's easy. Community isn't always easy.
But it's worth it. Community is definitely worth it.
By Deidra Riggs
:angel:
Human Lie Detector
Sep 18, 2012 01:10 am | Mandy Mianecki
"I must be stupid."
My husband's words travel miles, ride cellular frequencies, slice through my heart.
He speaks these words, believes these words. All because he walked out the door and left his MapQuest driving directions lying lonely on his desk at home.
And I think, "No. No, you are not stupid. Stressed, yes. Overwhelmed, yes. Human, yes. Shouldering the weight of providing for five other people, yes.
Loved just as you are, YES!
Stupid? No."
And he's not the only one. Over, and over, and over, from loved ones, I hear:
I'm so bad at this.
I'm a failure.
I'll never be able to...
It's too hard.
I'm afraid I'll...
What if...
And those are just the ones spoken aloud.
Lies, all. How easily the enemies slinks his slimy way in and whispers fear and discouragement to us.
As my husband berates himself, believing those ugly words, I catch myself thinking, "I need to be a good wife here, but I don't know what to say to him. I'm so much better at encouraging women."
Enter more lies! More discouragement! The truth is: I can speak words of life to him.
I want to encourage him, and you, too: Take heart. Arm yourself with this truth:
The only thing that matters is who God says you are. He knew you before you were born, knit you together in your mother's womb, declaring you to be fearfully, wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). He designed you on purpose, for a purpose that only you can fulfill (Jeremiah 29:11). He chose you (John 15:16). He wants you. He cares about every detail of your life. (Luke 12:7)
"In this way the love of God was revealed to us: God sent His only Son into the world so that we might have life through Him."
–1 John 4:9
He loves you madly. In a reckless, sacrifice-His-own-Son-to-save-you sort of way.
Repeat after me, friends: I am loved. I have a purpose. God doesn't make junk.
* * *
What lies are bullying you today? What truths can you choose to believe instead? Not sure? I'd be happy to help you in your combat! Let's chat in the comments below.
By Mandy Mianecki, His Song to Me.
:angel: :angel:
Five Little Words
Sep 19, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
It's ridiculous how much just five little words can hurt.
"What are you doing here?"
And it's ludicrous to think that even now as a grown woman I give those words the same power that I gave them when I was eleven-years-old.
Alongside puberty in a girl comes a painful self-awareness that she is inadequate in comparison with almost everyone else. When I was eleven I lived in fear of someone calling me out of a crowd, of being the center of attention and of people not wanting me around. I was clumsy and self-conscious and never felt like I fit in anywhere.
Before middle school began I tried to envision myself walking into the seventh grade lunch room, searching for a seat and then being asked, "What are you doing here?" By the time I got there, I did find friends but I still lived with the worry of being left out.
I don't need anyone to ask me "What are you doing here?" because I ask it of myself. What am I doing here? I don't belong here or anywhere else.
Though no one ever said it quite like I think they will, their gestures, their snubs and their "lost" invitations plagued me in middle school and early high school.
Years later, words like this still have the power they never should have.
I'm by myself at a wedding. My husband, who often plays guitar and sings in friends' ceremonies, is nowhere to be found. He's with the other musicians somewhere in the back.
It's in a garden, a beautiful spread of roses upon roses and I've sat down in a chair by myself. The thing is, I know almost everyone here, but we've left this church and have moved on. It was a friendly split {on our part} but perhaps unfriendly on theirs? I hadn't thought so. I'm just beginning to realize that I am not wanted here.
"What are YOU doing here, Sarah?" A woman asks as she comes up behind me before it begins. "I just didn't know you would be invited."
Ouch. I have no words so I try to smile.
Several months later I walk through the campus of my daughters' school. A woman, another mother with whom I've been friendly from time to time, stops me in the breezeway.
"What are you doing here?"
Instantly I feel shunned, embarrassed and like I'm in the seventh grade lunch room again. People know me here and I had thought I belonged.
Five little words from her make me feel immediately like an outcast.
This week the theme on (in)courage is forgiveness when community has wounded you. The only way that I know how to begin the process of healing anything, even the pain of five ridiculously powerful uttered words is to begin to participate in the healing process of others.
So I began to say five other words. Five words with power and intention and life.
"I'm so glad you're here."
I'm so glad you're here, I say to friends who step over my threshold.
I'm so glad you're here, I write when a new reader comes across my blog.
I'm so glad you're here, is what we say when we meet another couple for dinner and a walk on the beach.
I'm so glad you're here, I tell my daughters when they wake up on an autumn morning.
And with each positive utterance on my part I am able to forgive a piece of that which has been broken in me.
I'm so glad you're here. Five different words with the power to heal. These words have the power to override the hurt and pain that comes from not fitting in, feeling as if we don't belong and from feeling alone.
Today, friends, I'm so glad you're here. If you've been wounded within community, if you've been carrying the scars of 5 little words, or if you've been cast out of a place of belonging today is for you.
I'm so glad you're here. I am so glad you are here!
Let us tell one another that we value them, that we love them and that we are so happy that we all belong to Jesus. And by that maybe we can begin to allow the broken pieces inside us to heal.
Can you tell someone today that you are so glad they are in your life?
:angel: :angel:
Chapter 4 Guest Post: Giving And Gaining
Sep 19, 2012 01:15 am | Jill Reini
A month or so before I read 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, God had been stirring something up in me. I knew I needed more, but I wasn't sure how to get it or even what I wanted.
Then came 7.
The whole book spoke to me, but the part that really got my attention was the chapter on media.
We had always been a TV loving family, whether watching our favorite TV shows nightly, or going to the theater every weekend to see the latest movie (that was before we had kids.)
After reading the media chapter, my eyes were opened. I started asking myself these questions:
How much time were we wasting on TV and movies?
Was what we were watching good and beneficial?
Who or what was first in our lives? The TV or Jesus?
These were really hard questions for me to answer, but for the first time in my life I sat down and thought about the answers. It wasn't good. Well, it was good, but it was tough. I talked to my husband and we came to the same conclusion:
We were spending too much time in front of a screen. We were numbing our minds to what was going on around us, and we were finding that the more stuff we watched the harder it was to tell what was even "acceptable" anymore.
So we gave ourselves a timeout.
We had previously gotten rid of cable when summer started, so we got rid of the disc part of Netflix. (We still have the instant queue because of the kids, but I think this will be going soon also.) We got rid of some of our movies and TV shows. Same with books and video games. Really we just have too much stuff.
After we did this came the question of how to spend our nights. We were used to watching something when the kids went to bed. This had been our "quality" time. Honestly, we felt a little lost.
But God had a plan.
We soon found out that a group of our friends were meeting nightly for some intense prayer and worship. I was instantly excited. This is what I wanted. What I needed. More of Him.
So, Aaron and I would take turns (because someone had to stay home with the kids) going to the prayer nights. When I was home, I would fill my nights with reading, listening to music, blogging, or something else productive. And when Aaron was home he got busy editing a book that him and his dad wrote together. Talk about life changing.
Jesus moved in our lives like never before. We gave Him our time and ourselves, and He showed us who we really were in Him, and what it was like to give Him our all. We gave Him our time, He gave us His passion.
It was seriously insane. Insane good.
I'm not writing this to say TV or movies are horrible. They're not. In fact, we still watch a show here and there and there's a few movies coming out this fall that I am excited to see. We just realized we were spending way too much time in front of a screen and not enough time in the presence of Jesus.
We felt the prompting of the Holy Spirit to give some of this up, and we obeyed. And He blessed us for it. I have finally realized that Jesus is better than anything I could watch, read, or listen to.
He's everything.
By: Jill Reini, Reini Days
Photo by Alex Courso
***
Tune in this Friday for a link up on Media! If this week's chapter affected you in any way, we want to know about it! So share about it on your own blog and come back and link up this Friday {or share in the comments}!
:angel: :angel:
This One's for the Girls (Two New Books for Teens + Giveaway x10!)
Sep 20, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
Sometimes community hurts. It hurts to be open, to share life, to extend grace when we feel graceless.
One reason why we may often be hesitant to embrace community when we are older is because of the ways we were hurt by community when we were young.
I think of the generation coming up just behind us, of the girls who have big dreams but tired hearts. Of the rule followers, the fear wallowers, the messy and the misunderstood.
I think of the self-critics, the silent judges and the girls who feel invisible.
I think of the girls who long to be loved, accepted, and free.
My heart is heavy for this generation of young women.
How can we teach them to love one another well? To support each other without fear or competition? To be sisters who stand together in the midst of successes as well as failures?
We (Annie and Emily) are taking small steps to walk with girls as they begin to wrestle with answering these questions for themselves. And since we're writers, we did it in the we know how: we wrote books.
Annie Downs wrote a book for teen girls called Perfectly Unique.
I wrote a book for teen girls called Graceful.
And the fun part?
Both books released on the same day. And now they are both available to you.
Last week, Annie and I hung out together and made a little video for you. It is one part informational, one part ridiculous, three parts genuine excitement. We lose it a little around 4 minutes in, but manage to pull it together in time to wrap it up.
Ignore my weird hair. Go.
Read Chapter One of Annie's book (Perfectly Unique).
Read Chapter One of Emily's book (Graceful).
A Giveaway for You
We couldn't possibly introduce these books without doing a giveaway. DaySpring is generously offering to give 10 of you one of each of the following:
A copy of Perfectly Unique: Praising God From Head to Foot
A copy of Graceful {For Young Women}: Letting Go of Your Try Hard Life
A Joy Comes in the Morning Journal
A super cute stainless water bottle
Simply leave a comment telling us one piece of advice you would give your teenage self and we'll pick 10 winners and announce them here on Monday!
Grab your copy of Perfectly Unique for $7.99 and Graceful for $9.99 from DaySpring today!
:angel:
Learning To Trust...One Splinter At A Time...
Sep 20, 2012 01:10 am | Rachel Hammond
She came running to me, cradling her hand, two brown slivers of wood poking out of her fingertip. One gentle touch made her realize how much it hurt, and she immediately curled her hand tightly closed. We went back to the house and settled her down with an ice cube, Capri Sun, and a kid's television show before I descended on her finger with a pair of tweezers. It would only take a second to pull them out, I thought optimistically, and we could then move on with our evening.
Half an hour later, we both lay exhausted on the floor, television ignored, drink forgotten, and the splinters still firmly stuck in her little finger. I had tried everything I could think of - cajoling, soothing, bribing (two marshmallows!), threats, and brute force – but the only thing I had ended up with was a sad little girl with eyes red from crying and her hair laying in sweaty chunks across her face as she screamed, "No! No! No!".
I gave up, wrapped her finger in a Band-Aid, and hugged her tightly before tucking her into bed. Then I sat down on the back porch, rocking and staring out into the trees, as I tried to calm down my adrenaline flushed body and work through the frustration that was still bubbling up inside me.
It would have taken 10 seconds, maybe less, for me to pull out the tiny shards of wood. Over. Done. A pinch, and then the pain would be gone. I was trying to help her and take away her pain, but she just kept kicking and screaming, pushing me away.
But how often do I do the same thing to God?
I kick and scream, pushing God away from my life. I don't want what He has for me, because it might hurt or be uncomfortable. Worried that I can't handle what he gives me, I clutch my heart tightly to my chest, not willing to open my hands and let God prune, fix, grow, and stretch what needs to change in order to prepare me for His purposes and will.
I'm sure that sometimes He sits back, smiles sadly at me, and says,
"Rachel, don't you know that I love you? I only want the best for you, but I can't heal you if you don't let me in. Trust My ways, dear child, and I will bring you to a better place."
I understand her fear, because I have felt it too.
Later, I go in to check on her. She has surrendered to sleep, her bandaged hand sprawled out on the pillow next to her head. I smooth back her still damp hair and pray for her...and me.
"Help us to trust. Help us to uncurl our hands to the ones who love us the most and accept the healing that comes with it. Bless us, Father, even in our lack of trust, and draw us close to you."
By Rachel Hammond, Circle of Quiet
:angel: :angel:
How to Heal Community Wounds {Link Up Your Stories}
Sep 21, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
I said it out loud.
"I can't believe no one called, no one asked, no one offered to help," I complained to my husband.
My old community wounds surface at the first hint of disappointment and surprise me with their intensity. My words sound bitter and I struggle to sort it all out.
Why is it that pain from past relationships cast a shadow over present ones? Why is it easier to remember the negative than pursue the positive?
He squeezes my arm and says, "If someone had done all those things, would you have accepted it? Did you ask?"
The question hangs. He knows me too well. I shrug and confess, "No. You know how I am, I'm an introvert and it's hard for me to accept help. I just wanted someone to ask if I needed it."
And my words sounded hollow in my own ears.
He reassures and reminds me of the deep community we are building. He is right and I feel foolish for drudging up the past because the present didn't live up to my expectations.
"Community is no longer natural or easy under our present cultural conditions. It will require an intentionality greater than that required by our ancestors, and uncomfortable to most of us...." -Timothy Keller
It's hard for me to reach out, to let people in and when they don't meet my (often unspoken) assumptions, I'm disappointed. I have invisible needs and often let the pain of yesterday's community rob me of the joy of today.
"...But building Christian community is not simply a duty. It should not be a distasteful act of the will. Community grows naturally out of shared experience, and the more intense the experience, the more intense the community..." -Timothy Keller
At the end of the day, I want intense community. And after all these years, I am slowly finding it by sharing the intensity that comes from honesty and being open enough to share life, and not just the ups. Being vulnerable in the low times with other women makes sharing the mountain-top experiences even better.
Many of us spend so much energy pulling away from community. Honestly, it's easier to shut people out, but in the end fellowship heals community pain.
We need community, the good and the bad. Because it's exactly God's answer for community pain. People wound us, people heal us.
The next day, I called my friend and when she asked if I needed help, I said yes. And so did she.
When it comes to community wounds, are you tempted to give up on people? Or yourself? How do you overcome the pain that often comes with being vulnerable in community?
(in)RL GIVEAWAY: Won't you share in the comments or link up your stories below? We'd love to hear your heart as we all "check-in" on how we're doing with this whole bravely connecting with community thing.
And we'd love to give one of you who shares our beautiful (in)RL DVD Set and Devotional Booklet.
—>snag yours over here – they're half price right now
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
Chapter 4: Media- Link Up!
Sep 21, 2012 01:05 am | incourage
Did this month on media make you realize how much time you are spending on Facebook? When combined with all the other media sources fighting for our attention, it can get overwhelming. If this chapter convinced you to take a step back from media, won't you share with us? Laura and Carolyn are sharing a bit with us below. We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!
Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Laura @ Awake My Soul}
I pride myself on being SUPER Multi-tasker! You too??
Capable of accomplishing 349 things at one time! At Target I'm able to juggle texting, talking, loading items on the conveyor belt while (if not leaping tall buildings) tying my shoe.
Problem? What that says to the check-out person is "You're not important enough for my undivided attention."
A friend of mine was distracted and multi-tasking checking out at the grocery store, her toddler in the cart trying to talk to her as she unloaded things. She half nodded and said "Uh huh" til he finally took her head between his chubby little hands and turned her face to look at him. "Mommy," he said, "Listen with you eyes!"
Without my magic all-purpose phone, I also find I'm more present to God. My mind turns to prayer more because there isn't anything else to distract me.
Click here to continue reading...
{Carolyn @ Walking Stories}
The media proclaims continuously that we need the most. I want to encourage women that no, we just need our sweet Savior Jesus.
The media proclaims that we need to be our best. I want to encourage women that we are at our best when our life proclaims that God is the best.
The media proclaims that our goal should be to "reach the top". I want to encourage women that Jesus said, "If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all," (Mark 9:35).
I'm at an age where everyone questions me about my goals and plans for life after the big college graduation day. While others my age might have impressive dreams of "reaching the top", I pray that I stay on my knees under the foot of the cross.
:angel: :angel:
Open Doors to Community {Flower Pins & Chocolate}
Sep 22, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
For the past three years my husband and I have been building a church family in a community where we previously didn't know any one. The state of Washington might not be considered a foreign missionary land, but it sure feels like it to a homebody like me when you move to a place where you don't know a soul and are given the seemingly monumental task of starting a church from scratch. People don't generally go to church in the NW, so you've got to be bold and creative in building community.
Finding and building a community is hard, really hard. I get that. Especially for people like me who are happiest as reclusive introverted homebodies. Making the effort to reach out and connect isn't easy, and sometimes its extremely inconvenient, but as a follower of Christ, it isn't really an option. God created in us a need for community.
If there is one thing I know about building community, it is that to be successful, you have to have two things: an open door and someone to go through it. An open door is one in which you have provided a safe, comfortable, welcoming environment for someone to enter in to a community where they may not know anyone. Building community is a two way street to be sure, but someone needs to make the first move by creating the open door environment.
This spring our church's women's group hosted our first ever community Craft Day in conjunction with the in(RL) event and (in)courage. While we didn't have a big team or budget, our goal was simply to create a space where women who didn't previously know each other could feel comfortable enough to sit together at a table, put together a simple craft, eat chocolate and talk.
Our small team of women putting on the event poured out their creativity and love for their community by providing the Craft Day setting with a chocolate fountain, crafting tables with fabric to make flower pins, and tasty food. They opened the door to community by setting a comfortable environment.
The brave women who attended reached out to us in return by walking through the open door and opening their hearts to new friends! Friendship building takes two people willing to make a step. And on Craft Day, we met right in the middle, over our chocolate dipped strawberries and flower pins.
In just a couple of weeks, our church is starting a new MOPS group. We are providing another open door to friendship. We are praying for even more women to take that important brave step by walking through the open door and meeting us in the middle where we can get to know each other!
A local community of friends is SO important, sweet dear ladies, and it can't be built when we choose to stay home instead of participating. Oh, it is so tempting to stay home sometimes, isn't it? There have been times I've set the stage for community and women were too tired or too busy to meet me in the middle. They didn't realize the divine opportunity to encourage others by their presence.
I know we are all really busy and have so much going on. But I encourage you to make real community building a priority in your life. Set aside time for it. God designed us to grow and thrive as followers of Christ in community. We need each other more than we might even realize!
Be a door opener or one who walks through the doors. Either way, you'll be a blessing to someone else and in all likelihood you'll BE blessed.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Sep 23, 2012 12:00 am | incourage
Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.
~Habakkuk 3:17-19
:angel:
Finding Friends
Sep 24, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I moved to Nashville four years ago and when I moved, I knew approximately four people.
Four.
In the whole city.
Seriously.
For a massive extrovert like me, that was hard. Like whoa hard. Like how am I ever going to survive this hard.
Because I wanted friends. I wanted people who knew me, really knew me, and I wanted history and I wanted someone to laugh with.
So I had to find friends.
I know, sounds miserable, right? It was awful some days. And terribly hard.
But it was totally worth it. My friends in Nashville love me really well and are a gift from God. I'm grateful for each of them.
There were a few tips I lived by when I was finding friends. In a world where "community" is more an overused word than a reality, I knew it was going to take a little work to build a life in a new city where I was all alone.
Listen, I don't know everything about everything, I don't know everything about anything, so these are just some ideas that I've seen work in my life and the lives of the people around me. I'm not giving you rules- don't feel pressure. I'm just sharing.
Now I've over explained. You're welcome.
Some tips for finding friends....
1. Ask God. Just plain pray and ask God to provide people for you. He is Jehovah Jireh, your provider.
2. Be true to yourself- to what you love and what matters to you. You love cats? Great. You love running? Super. You love scrapbooking? Call Jessica Turner. When we were teenagers, we decided to like things often because our friends liked them. Guess what? You don't have to do that anymore. Decide what YOU really like and then you can find people who share those interests.
3. Use the internet to help. I think of sweet Sara and how, because she couldn't leave her home, her community, her best friends, she knew through the computer and that often translated into real life. If you are homebound, God bless the internet for giving you a way to have real friendships around the world. But if you aren't homebound, the internet should be your help, not your only.
Search through meet-ups and facebook events and online book clubs. Use the internet as a tool to help you find real life community.
4. Say yes. For the first five months that I lived in Nashville, I made myself say yes. If someone asked me to come to the park, yes. If someone asked me to go to a movie or a church or coffee or dinner, yes. Always yes. Even when it would have been easier to stay home and watch reruns of Reba or get Taco Bell for dinner or get in my car and drive to Atlanta to see my family, I said yes.
5. Attend that group at church that you keep rolling your eyes about. Oh, I know, you're cooler than those other singles. I know, you and your husband won't mesh well with the Sunday School class. I know, that women's group doesn't look fun at all. But go. Just a few times. Make yourself go. If you don't like it, no one is gonna make you go back. But if you do like it, boom. Friends.
If we were sitting at a coffee shop together, I would look you in the face and, with my fingers wrapped around a soy chai, I would say, "be brave."
You want to find friends?
Be. Brave.
. . . . .
How would you encourage other women to find friends? How did you make your friends? In the neighborhood? At church? Online?
by Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel:
7: Chapter 5 — Waste
Sep 24, 2012 01:05 am | Jessica Turner
Read:
Month 1: Food – Guest Post & Link Up
Month 2: Clothes – Guest Post — Link Up
Month 3: Possessions – Guest Post — Link Up
Month 4: Media – Guest Post – Link Up
Jen gives us a much needed reminder this month that God calls us to care for the Earth that He created. Jen asks the hard question below– what would it take for you to become a godly consumer?
Can we unlearn our destructive habits and reimagine a way to live lighter on this earth? What if we changed our label from "consumers" to "stewards"? Would it change the way we shop? The way we think?
My luxuries come at the expense of some of God's best handiwork: forests, petroleum, clean air, healthy ecosystems.
What does it mean to be a godly consumer? What if God's creation is more than just a commodity? If we acknowledged the sacredness of creation, I suspect it would alter the way we treated it. ~ Page 136
Watch:
7 – Month 5: Waste, Bloom (in)courage Book Club from Bloom (in)courage on Vimeo.
{Subscribers, click here to watch}
Discuss:
Did this chapter change the way you view the Earth that God created? Are you being responsible when it comes to using the resources that God provides for us? What practical (and maybe not so practical) changes can you make in your household to take better care of our environment?
Share:
Join us on Wednesday as Stephanie shares with us how this month on waste changed her life. And if you've also shared about this month's topic on your blog, won't you link up with us on Friday or share in the comments? We'd love to hear from you!
Pst, Want to stay up to date on each new chapter? You can now sign up for exclusive emails from Bloom! It's free – just sign up here if you would like to receive emails when new Bloom posts are available.
:angel:
Encouraging Cards Giveaway
Sep 25, 2012 08:40 am | Mary Carver
"Mommy, we need to send her a card!"
It seems like every time I turn around, my almost-five-year-old daughter is asking for paper to make another card. She loves sending cards to people!
Grandma is sick? Let's make her a card.
Daddy had a rough night at work? Let's make him a card.
It's time to go back to school? Let's make cards for all my friends.
The banks are closed for Labor Day, which is a holiday? Let's make a card for everyone!
Even though it means we go through paper at a pretty fast rate and I'm constantly pulling out markers, scissors or stickers for her, I don't mind. In fact, I love that she wants to encourage her friends and family with a card.
While I don't do nearly enough to encourage those I love, I try to do it as much and as often as I can. Whether that means a card, an e-mail or a little gift for no reason (or, you know, for a holiday like Columbus Day), I love showing people I care and making them smile.
I learned that from my mom, and it seems my daughter has picked up the same thing from me. I have to say, though – my kiddo is way better at encouraging others than I am! When I mentioned in passing a few weeks ago that my mom was under the weather and wouldn't be coming to dinner as planned, my daughter's first reaction was, "We should make her a card!" And then she hounded me until we made one.
Apparently, I can learn as much from her as she can from me! That's why every time I send a thank you note, bake cookies for a friend or write letters to our sponsored children, I let my daughter sit with me and help. But it's also why I indulge her own ideas for sharing kindness – even if that means she goes through yet another roll of tape and a stack of paper to make First Day of Fall cards for all her friends!
It's easy to encourage your friends and family with DaySpring's greeting cards. And this month, you can buy 2 boxed card sets and get one free!
We're giving away 10 card packs to (in)courage readers this week! We'll pick and announce winners on Tuesday, October 2. To enter, leave a comment and tell us which card pack is your favorite (click here to view the full Collection!)
:angel:
We're spending 5 weeks chatting on the sofa over hot tea, cookies, and 5 questions about in real life friendship. Won't you join us?
09/04 Week 1: "What does community mean to you?"
09/11 Week 2: "How do we stop hiding from and open ourselves up to community?"
09/18 Week 3: "How do we forgive past hurt by community?"
09/25 Week 4: "How do we build local community: some practical ideas."
10/02 Week 5: "How do we build community right where we are, not letting circumstances limit our connections?"
Every Friday we'll invite you to share your thoughts – link up a post, share a comment, discuss on Facebook.
We loved hearing your thoughts last week on how to come out of hiding and connect with community. Congrats to Mindy who won the(in)RL DVD Set and Devotional Booklet for the post she linked up – here's a peek – you should really go and read it:
We've all got our stories of how we've been hurt. Family and friends that betray. Acquaintances who injure with an off-hand remark. A reader who can leave comments that draw blood. People who can wound and don't even know of the disaster they've left in their wake.
Community can hurt.
But community can heal.
For every bad taste that community can leave in your mouth there are ten times...one hundred times as many that are good.
We're looking forward to hearing from you guys and blessing at least one of you each week with some of our (in)RL resources.
So, this week we're discussing some practical ideas for building local community.
Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to attend an old fashioned Quilting Bee. As I rock on my covered front porch, I feel the warm breeze brush against my cheek. Busying my hands by stitching beautiful fabric squares, I catch up with all my neighboring girlfriends who come together regularly to share community.
I open my eyes, and reality sets in. I don't sew, nor do I have the desire to cut quilting squares, yet I'm enchanted with this concept because there was a fun purpose for gathering, they shared life together, and productivity occurred.
That desire was the genesis behind my Kitchen Sisters' Club (a phrase coined after not enough sleep): a gatherings of friends, who came together to make meals for our family. As a young mom, it was often difficult to justify a "girls night out," yet when I combined the best of sharing sweet friendship with my girlfriends, along side making multiple meals for my family, it was a win-win proposition.
Over the last fifteen years, I have organized these meal making get togethers multiple ways, with many different ladies, and varying sized groups ranging from six to twenty-six. One constant remains. When the need for community mixes with very practical needs, it's truly the best of both worlds.
This past weekend, I led a meal planning workshop at my Becoming Conference where hundreds of women raised their hand in agreement that the "What's for Dinner Question" remains a constant source of strife.
I mean, do we really need to feed them again? They just ate last night?
When I think of meal time, the old adage rings true, "Fail to plan, plan to fail." When I have no set plan, I tend to resort to the same three or four meals over and over again, which doesn't always win the adoration of my family. Since I'm always looking for new inspiration and accountability in the kitchen, meal swapping meets both of these needs, along with a beautiful outlet to spend time with friends.
It's a wonderful way to try new recipes, eat healthier, and fellowship, while saving both time and money in the kitchen. As a bonus, I go home energized and encouraged to do a better job for my family.
So many scriptural principles live out during our time together, including Galatians 6:2. We truly carry each others burdens together as we desire to live intentionally with even the most mundane of tasks.
Briefly, there are three different ways in which I have organized my Kitchen Sisters' Clubs. The method I choose depends on the group and my schedule.
1. Make all the meals at your own home and drop them off at friends' homes.
They, in turn, do the same thing for you on another day. Typically, this group shouldn't exceed four women.
Example: I make four of our family's favorite Taco Casseroles, or possibly my Simple Sesame Chicken, salad, and my easy homemade french bread, and deliver them to three neighbors. Then the next week, they do the same for me. This is the one option where the meals do not need to be freezer friendly, since you deliver and potentially eat it the same day.
( I write a lot about meal planning and easy food preparation over at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, so my readers know that cooking a main dish in bulk takes the same amount of time as one recipe, so one of my biggest kitchen tips is to always double or triple our recipes, so that we'll have another meal for later.)
This first option only works well if you're in close proximity to each other. I know of ladies who have done this for years with the same four friends, now that is a blessing.
2. Host a meal making party in ones home where everyone brings the ingredients for their main dish.
Typically, I have done this with eight ladies.
Each friend was "assigned" one main dish (her preference). She would bring all the ingredients for that entree (x the number of ladies in attendance), and we would then assemble the meals together in my kitchen. So if I choose Mexican Lasagna, I would provide the ingredients for eight Mexican Lasagnas. If I am shopping for one, I might as well shop for eight.
Through much trial and error, I eventually set down basic ground rules, such as everyone had to provide two lbs of meat per meal, the recipe must fit an 8×10 pan etc. For those with smaller families, they just divided the meal in half, and received even more meals for their family. There is always so much fun and laughter to be had by all.
The only down side is that my kitchen is a complete wreck when it's done, but so worth it.
3. Host in either a home or church kitchen – one person organizes, sets the menu, and buys the ingredients.
This requires more work from one person, but there is the option of taking turns with organizing this every month.
The pictures shown above was an evening like this. I set up "stations" with instructions for each meal. I provided all the ingredients (except for two of the meals in which attendees brought their choice of raw chicken or beef in ziplock bags, and we made crock pot meals). The guests then covered the costs of the ingredients.
Hopefully, this quick introduction might get your creative juices going in the meal making department.
What are some of your biggest struggles when it comes to meal time?
If you have the desire to build community through starting a Kitchen Sisters Club, I'd love to help.
These gatherings are such a wonderful time of fellowship, and yet there's a feeling of total accomplishment when the evening is completed. I know that many readers here have probably done similar things, and I'd love for you to chime in with the specifics of how you have set up your meal swapping groups.
On October 1, I will be launching my new food blog, 10 Minute Dinners, where I will be tackling the day in and day out challenge of getting quick and easy meals made, so that I can have more time to spend gathering around the table with family and friends. I will make sure and incorporate a follow up post on the details of starting a Kitchen Sisters Club, including some of your insights that I glean through the comments you leave, so please chime in. I'd love for us to brainstorm and learn from each other.
by Jen Schmidt, Balancing Beauty and Bedlam (and soon to be launched, 10 Minute Dinners)
Free Printable: Just CLICK HERE to download a free 8.5 x 11 printable version of the above quote on friendship.
It's this week's free (in)RL Check-In Printable – featuring copy and art from a postcard in the our new Postcards from God's Beach House, Friendship Set.
{The downloadable print is available through DaySpring.com. This is a free download and your credit card information will not be requested. You'll receive a link to the Printable in your confirmation email. Easy. Free. And Fun.}
:angel: :angel:
Surrender
Sep 25, 2012 01:10 am | Ingrid K Cagwin
I can feel the hackles raise on my neck. I've proven myself a mama-bear to defend my children. But this time, it's the child- the eldest child- that I want to growl at.
I can become the worst version of myself as I look at that smaller image of me, her jaw set that dares me to react. Why is it that our children, those we know are true gifts from God, can unearth this ungodly ugliness in our hearts? How can I honor God, become who He is calling me to be, when all I want to do is knock my challenging daughter down a peg or three?
I pray. I pray prayers of frustration. Of repentance. Of dependence. The truth is that I can't honor God—I am a work in progress, needful of the Artist's help to do or be anything worthwhile. And that includes any parenting of value—I need my Father, his overabundant grace and patience.
And then it hits me what the struggle is, how to define it. The struggle in my heart, the war, is about identity. It's countercultural, and elusive. We might miss it if we don't look. It seems normal, natural, to feel a sense of entitlement. It feels right to demand my rights, because they define me. But they should not. When she challenges my authority, what my heart is crying out is: Respect! Honor! My RIGHTS! And I aim to fire away until I am justly restored what is mine. Until I am content that the relationship reflects who I am. But then I think- who am I?
Who am I? Jesus calls us to give up our rights and to serve. He says that if we love him, we will obey. Jesus "humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross!" Fully entitled to all respect, all honor: God Himself. The One who designed, who created each person that turned against Him, each man that beat him and spat upon Him. Jesus didn't turn on them and insist on His due. He loved them. He loved them from a heart that didn't require reciprocity, from a heart that forgave when it was sinned against, from a heart that was sure of its mission. Jesus' identity wasn't defined by circumstance or by others' response to Him and my identity is hidden in Him.
A new identity in Christ. How does that work? While I still need to set good boundaries with my kids, I am now free to choose how I (re)act when my children misbehave. I can focus on the condition of my own heart. I sin when I react to my children out of a need to define myself—a hope that their relationship to me will inform my identity. I sin when I forget who I am.
Parenting can be a refiners' fire, shaping us to become the daughters—His daughters—that He calls us to be. Instead of the rights I long to claim at any uprising, my new prayer is to hold fast to Jesus. To cement myself in who He is, to have my identity so rooted in this dependence on Him that, when challenged, I remember my calling instead of my "rights." That I recollect my mission—guiding each child to know Him and love Him with all their hearts—instead of needing authority reaffirm who I am. That I take the posture of a servant, because I am following my Shepherd as I help care for His little lambs.
By Ingrid K Cagwin, The Mundane Wrestle
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Start A Craft Day
Sep 26, 2012 01:20 am | The Nester
One of the ways I've gotten to know new people in my town is through craft day. I'd love to take the credit for it but, my talented friends Reeve and Angela are the brains behind it, I'm just the one who is too lazy to leave the house so I've been the host. So really? They've done all the hard work. And if you ask them, they probably don't even think it's hard.
Here's why we started a craft day:
1. we love to do little crafts
2. we wanted to be together
3. we each had some crafty friends and thought it would be fun to introduce them all
It was Reeve's idea to invite me and Angela to join in a Crafty Day Pinterest board. This was SO SMART because we could easily pin potential craft day ideas and then when it was time to decide which ideas we actually wanted to consider, we could all pick our top two or three ideas from the craft board and talk about what would work for a group. Sometimes we met for coffee and made a decision, sometimes we just emailed.
Here's how craft day works:
There are three of us who plan it and we each have a job that we like:
Reeve sent out the emails (OK, so she went all out and made invitations because she's awesome, but you don't have to do fancy invites) email is fine–just have someone in charge of that part who is organized.
Angela usually taught the craft. She's really good at explaining things so it worked out well.
I usually hosted and bought the supplies because I like to stay home but when I am out, I'm usually at craft store. Sometimes we would all go together to get supplies if we had time, that part was really fun too.
Last winter and fall we had craft day once a month (it works best to have it on the same day–like the 3rd Monday or something) and a few weeks before craft day the three of us would decide on the craft and Reeve sent out the invites. We'd get a rough count of how many would be there (usually 6-8) but an exact number didn't matter (like when we did the doily bowls, we had some extra doilies just in case).
I'd buy whatever supplies we needed (usually it was pretty cheap) and fix some food because food fixin' is one of my spiritual gifts and I like doing that. We'd keep a jar out for anyone who came who could to put $5 in for the supplies. We didn't keep track or anything and it always worked out fine.
Angela would explain the craft and demonstrate and we'd all talk and laugh and eat and hot glue off our fingerprints.
It was a great excuse to get together and it's so nice to have something to keep your hands busy while you are meeting new people. Crafts are a great ice breaker and such a low commitment–you could just have a one time craft day for your neighborhood if you want to meet some new people. Or maybe you and two friends just want to have a great excuse to get together, you don't have to invite a bunch of people you don't know.
I wrote about three of our craft days, check them out for more photos and ideas:
Craft Day :: Finger Knitting
Craft Day :: Pom Poms
Craft Day :: Doily Bowls
:angel:
Chapter 5 Guest Post: Confessions of a Reformed Consumer
Sep 26, 2012 01:05 am | Stephanie Armstrong
I bought Seven as a light read. (If you've read the book, you can just insert a hearty chuckle *here*) I knew enough about it to recognize that I might be challenged by it but I had no plans to be bothered by it. In case you're wondering, I rather prefer plans that make me feel better about myself as a general rule. Left to my sin nature and my ever present ego, it's how I roll.
The first few chapters were tough; they basically hit me where my sore spots are. Food, clothes, possessions, media...yes, I struggle with excess in each of those areas, who doesn't? But when I got to chapter five I thought, surely I don't cause much waste and I'm only one person, how much of the Earth am I really affecting? As I began reading about the seven green habits Jen chose, I became so engrossed in each of them that I didn't bother to look up and see the coming train, barreling down the tracks and headed my way. I took one look at the intro and thought I knew how to play along...
Recycle (I don't, it seems like a lot of work. I know I should. I probably could.)
Shop local (Sounds fun?)
Garden (No yard, but I do grow basil and chives in containers, does that count?)
Conserve (Um, quicker showers?)
Compost (File that under hilarious, as in never going to happen)
Drive one car (I would love this. I hate all the costs associated with driving. My husband, not so much.)
Shop thrift stores (Score! I am a second hand shopper and a garage sale girl. I can do that.)
Clearly I was prepared to breeze through this chapter and leave it to those a little more green than I to chew on, because if I'm honest with you, I'm not green. One of the girls from the Council said she wasn't even teal...umm, yes, agreed. I will admit, although seriously flawed, my opposition to the whole "going green" movement is often due to the inner rebel in me. While there are wars erupting, people losing their jobs and homeless people dying alone on the streets, I simply cannot (read: choose not to) find space in my mind to worry about the earth. In fact, when I hear about masses of people jumping on the proverbial bandwagon to abandon the use of plastic water bottles as their life's mission, it makes me want to drive to Costco in my gas guzzling mini-van and load the back end with 36 bottles of "natural spring water" while throwing plastic bags out my windows.
I told you my thinking was flawed. Also, immature.
Seriously though, some of my angst centers on the dichotomy between people who are passionate about saving whales and trees with no regard for unborn babies or the elderly. I recognize that it's wrong to paint whole genres and movements with broad, sweeping and dismissive strokes but if I'm honest, that's just how I've viewed and dealt with the green movement. It seems out of balance and extreme, therefore I've just avoided it as a whole.
I never expected the Lord to use this book and this chapter on waste to bother me as I began opening my eyes to the way that we live. But that's exactly what He did. I began thinking about all the driving we do, the things we throw away, the excessive buying we're responsible for, the way we consume everything and worse yet, why none of it has mattered to me until now? I totally identified with Jen when she said,
We are wasters. We are consumers. We are definitely a part of the problem. I no more think about how my consumption affects the earth or anyone else living on it than I think about becoming a personal trainer; there is just no category for it in my mind.
Yes sister, me too. As I've opened my eyes to our ways, I see how often I consume with no thought for anyone but myself. Not only when it comes to natural resources, but regarding my choices in general. I get so wrapped up in me, that I don't always consider how my choices and certainly my consumption, impacts others.
And that's a problem.
In general, we are a consumer driven society that thinks nothing of making immediate choices with no regard for the generations that follow us.
Broken appliance? Don't fix it, just replace it. Old car? Don't drive it until it quits, move on to bigger and better car payments. Loads of crippling debt? Pay it off tomorrow and charge whatever you need today. Too tired to make lunches? Buy them and throw away loads of plastic packaging day after day after day.
Want, want, want?? Consume, consume, consume....
As I started reading more about the state of our world and where we are headed, I started to recognize the issue of consumption as more than just excess packaging and plastic water bottles. I echo Jen's heart-of-the-matter questions,
What if we changed our label from "consumers" to "stewards"? Would it change the way we shop? The way we think? What does it mean to be a godly consumer? What if God's creation is more than just a commodity?
I wish I had all the answers or the energy to tackle all the issues. I don't. Right now surviving the grocery store with a toddler and a preschooler is all I can handle. Throw in the burden of remembering re-usable bags each time and I might break down in the produce section when I realize I'm failing at yet another thing.
So in the wrestling with it all, I've resolved to start small. I'm questioning a lot. Thinking twice before I buy, figuring out what can be fixed before it's replaced, donating as much as I can to people who could use our stuff, and thinking about my kids and the world they will inherit.
Only in America do we have neat and tiny rooms dedicated to trash and the removal of it from our lives. But the dirty, little secret is that we never really get rid of the trash. We sweep it away, take it to a landfill or just remove it from our sight, as if it never existed. And yet, it does. It remains in some form or another for someone else to take care of. Behind closed doors, in labeled "Trash Rooms."
I'm in process over here, transitioning from the role of a consumer into a steward of what God has given me. I like to think of myself as a reformed consumer, finally coming to terms with the errors of my former ways. In the words of the lady who wrote this crazy book on my shelf,
I'm done separating ecology from theology, pretending they don't originate from the same source.
Amen, sister. Aren't we all done with the bury-my-head-in-the-sand existence that so many of us choose? I'm saying no to that way of life and instead, I'm raising my re-usable cup in your direction and toasting the dawn of a greener day.
"The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it on the seas and established it on the waters." Psalm 24:1-2
Now about that compost pile...
By: Stephanie at Happily Ever After
***
Tune in this Friday for a link up on Waste! If this week's chapter affected you in any way, we want to know about it! So share about it on your own blog and come back and link up this Friday {or share in the comments}!
:angel: :angel:
5 Ways to Serve Your Local Friends
Sep 27, 2012 01:20 am | Jessica Turner
It's been just over a year since Sara entered the gates of heaven.
I miss her every day.
If you don't know Sara's story, please watch this video. Though she was home bound, she impacted lives around the world.
With her in Iowa and me in Tennessee, there were many moments when I couldn't be there for her in the ways that I wanted to be. I couldn't go pick up a Sonic slushie for her. I couldn't pop in to give her a hug. I wasn't there physically.
But she had plenty of friends who were.
And I am so thankful for the ways they poured into her life and demonstrated what community looked like.Here are 5 ways her local community served her and how we can be like them:
1. Bring food: Food is such an easy way to serve others. There were some days when all Sara could stomach were Sonic slushies, and so that is what her friends brought her. Know that someone is sick? Bring them some soup. It's not cliche. It's kindness.
2. Offer to watch someone's kids (or pets!): While Sara didn't have kids, she did have the blog dog, Riley. And some days she would need a break and a friend would scoop him up and love on him a bit. We just moved and I can't tell you how thankful I am for friends who offered to watch my kids while we ran errands and got settled. One day a friend called and said, just bring your kids over and go get a coffee by yourself. She recognized my need for some quiet time and filled the gap for me.
3. Send a card: Nothing brightens a day like sending a card to someone – even if they just live down the street. A class in Sara's town "adopted" her and would often make her cards. These cards brought her so much cheer.
4. Help with housework: Sara's circumstances made it difficult for her to stand for long periods of time and she couldn't go outside. Local friends often filled the gap by doing things for her that she couldn't do – like planting flowers and setting up Christmas lights.
5. Run errands: Again, because Sara was homebound, she had to depend on others to run errands for her. It was a gift that she could call a friend when she needed a prescription picked up or a some extra groceries. Is there someone in your life that you could help by running an errand for them? When I was really sick during my last pregnancy a friend offered to go grocery shopping for me just so it was one less thing to worry about.
I'm so thankful for the gift Sara was in my life – and for all the ways her local friends loved her well.
What can you do to serve someone in your local community?
:angel: :angel:
A Sweet-Smelling Fragrance
Sep 27, 2012 01:10 am | Myra Biernat Wells
"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life." (2 Corinthians 2:14-16a, NIV)
To put it mildly, I stunk! After having endured an entire week in Michigan's Upper Peninsula with only one shower, I was totally ripe. Part of a team preparing a Northwoods camp for opening day, we worked hard during the week. Cleaning, digging, sweeping – even building a new latrine – trying to make the place cozy, yet woodsy. And private enough to find God.
Despite the physical labor, I deemed it too cold take a nightly shower. That's easy to do when your shower is a tin pail with holes at the bottom hanging on the wooden beam of an unheated, freezing bathhouse. Soon my odor began to announce my presence. When I arrived home, no one wanted to stand by me, get near me, have anything to do with me until I went home and took a shower.
Knowing how badly I can smell makes me shutter when Paul says we are the aroma of Christ. How many times have I failed to be God's sweet smelling perfume, but truly stunk the place up? How often have I turned people away from Christ because of my malodorous, sinful condition? Or worse, my lack of love, my failure to give grace?
I want people to be drawn to God by my sweet perfume – the love of Christ – that permeates my words, my actions, my life! I long to do something extraordinary for Him...stirring people to move closer to God, not sending them away with the stench of my failures! Who would already know Jesus if I lived my life faithfully serving and doing His will?
That's when I remind myself God never gives up on me. Even when I sin, He still has marvelous plans for me...plans to advance His kingdom, not reduce it.
This is a constant struggle. I will always wear the scars of my past failures – times when I could have been more patient, more kind, more caring. Times I neglected helping one of his beloved sons or daughters. Times when I could have loved as Jesus loved, but instead created the stench of my toxic indifference.
God's grace will cover me. Through the poignant love of God, He saves me from my failures. I pray every day to shower in grace, bathe in it, perfume myself with it until I am ready to go out into the world and draw people closer to Him.
His grace changes my weaknesses, my betrayals into something He can use for His glory. He redeems my sins. And with His love, He can use me for what is good, true and perfect.
Whether I'm a sweet fragrance or something you'd rather forget, know this: No matter how broken you are – no matter how offensive your aroma is before man – God will always love you and cleanse you with His grace.
By: Myra Biernat Wells, UlitmateJoy
:angel: :angel:
On Making Community: Part 1 {Link Up Your Stories}
Sep 28, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines
It's always a little work to clear a space in my home, the boys' toys and our paper piles always on the dining room table. Today I moved the piles and straightened out the blue table cloth. I moved the pink bouquet of flowers there and set the table. The sink was full of dishes, but we had our friends over any way while the boys watched a movie. We served leftover soup. Ten years older than they are, we're privileged to hear as their story unfolds. We are community, so that's what we do: we tell the running story, and we don't want each other to miss a thing.
I've written several times about our community (here, here, here, and here), and often those posts solicit questions about how our community group came to be. How do we remain in such consistent fellowship and take care of each others' needs so well? Often people even want to know the logistics: where? how often? with children? format?
The thing that's hardest to share is how it got started, because obviously the Spirit doesn't leave much room for formulas. How ours began isn't how yours will because "the wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with every [community] who is born of the Spirit" (John 3:8).
I'm not sure I can properly explain how we started with so little, nearly at zero. Another couple came to our house for dinner, and we were long-lost friends. They had just moved home from overseas, and they had experienced too much to bear, and we met and it quickly came to tears, so we prayed.
When we lifted our heads and gave the hugs, we said let's do this again next week, and so we did, and then the next week we invited another couple to come. One of our friends wasn't even sure what she believed anymore. Again we just said, "let's pray," so we did. And we loved each other in the zero, how little any of us felt we had to give.
That was two years ago, and I do look back and see such a willingness to be awkward, a desperateness to hear from God, to know He was there in our little. So that's how it started: tears, knees, quietness, then sharing. Once a week was hardly enough then, so we often made a way to get together in our tiny apartment for drinks and eating, our kids running wild in the yard. We played music and games. We sing, always; always we sing, breaking through the awkward every time.
Laying it all bare became pretty easy, so as others joined us, they followed suit. That's the best part, the growing, the quirks of humanness, the loud kids, the way one disliked us at first, but he just kept coming, and we loved him into shape. We studied together and tried to work out the "one anothers." We share food, time, and money with one another. We never stop telling the story, speaking the truth, to one another.
Oh and we have misunderstood one another and forgiven, and we have loved.
Last night we gathered for a birthday, and the house rattled with competitive story-telling and children and clanking cups. I walked with my camera around, quiet in my skin, recording glory. The other night one hugged my neck and whispered "you are a child of God," so I take these photos and tears well up. My community group is my family, a line that will indeed be going on generations from now.
Who? We call ourselves church, the body of Christ, hoping for a microcosm of what happens in the broader community of our town, in buildings with signs out front, and also in secret places on a global scale. Our children do come in and out. They see us pray, then go watch a movie. If they come in the room, sometimes we shoo them away. If the conversation isn't too mature, we invite them to sit. In the early days, we led the children in song and taught them a little two-minute lesson. Often we give them stern looks and just tell them to be quiet, so obviously we have room for improvement.
What? We eat. We pray. We sing a lot. We encourage one another with Scripture. We spend a season taking turns telling our own stories, too, so we know the context of other lives, why someone might understand things a different way. We always put our hands on each other and speak blessing and make requests of God. We often end with Doxology.
When? At the very least, we meet once a week after working hours.
Where? We always cram into our homes or apartments.We feel like a secret place, but we also worship together every Sunday morning on about the 2nd row back in the right isle at "big church."
How? Often ragged and tired. Always needy. Usually hungry.
Why? Because we fellowship with the crucified and risen Christ there. How could I not attend a gathering like that?
—
:angel: :angel:
Chapter 5: Waste- Link Up!
Sep 28, 2012 01:05 am | incourage
When you think about what your family throws away everyday, it's probably overwhelming. It has been for Karen and Melissa, who are both sharing with us today on how this chapter on Waste affected them. We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!
Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Via Karen @ The River Into Words}
...Upon arriving back in America (with our cloth diapers in tow), I couldn't wait to throw away some stuff. All the stuff. Oh what freedom was to be had in just throwing any old thing away.
But... I couldn't do it. I'd hold my hand over the trash can and fret. Where will this broken plastic container end up? How long will it rot (or not rot) there? And this sock? It has no partner, no use to us, but when does synthetic fabric break down? Do I just throw. it. away?
This is why Jen Hatmaker's chapter on Waste in her recent book 7 speaks to me. Jen recognizes and calls out the hyprocrisy modern Evangelicals perpetuate: we advocate for the redemption of souls, the regeneration of hearts and lives of eternal worth, while we abuse and misappropriate the earth's resources for our temporal, costly comfort.
Click here to continue reading...
{Via Melissa @ Spouseisms}
Before 'going green' is a political issue, or a social issue, it's a stewardship issue. We, man and woman, were created AFTER the earth and all that was in it. We were given a message to 'fill the earth and subdue it', not 'fill the earth and consume it'. (Gen. 1:28) Cultivate the earth. As Christians we should consume only what we need, not to be hippy-minimalists-reality-show types, but because we are so crazy-in-love with the One who provides that which we need!
Jen likened God's earth to our kids' artwork brilliantly. "If I don't preserve their creations right now, one day I'll have bare walls because I squandered these beautiful offerings when they seemed so plentiful".
This is not an effortless task. When was the last time you did something of generational-thinking that was simple?
:angel: :angel:
What Your Pastor Wants You To Know
Sep 29, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
Originally, I planned on titling this message, "5 Ways to Bless Your Pastor." But as I started interviewing Pastors and their wives about this article, I realized blessing our pastor isn't just about doing something for him. Sometimes the biggest blessing can come from what we don't do.
So, I retitled this blog hoping to truly give insight into what our Pastors want us to know but can't really announce from the pulpit.
I'm passionate about understanding how to love and support those who lead my church. But I have to admit, I'm not a heroine in this article. I'm still learning how to apply the Biblical principle of 1 Timothy 5:17-18.
"Elders who are leading well should be admired and valued. Double up on the honor shown them; care for them well—especially those constantly and consistently teaching the word and preaching. For the Scripture agrees, "Don't muzzle the ox while it is treading out your grain," and, "The worker deserves his wages." "
Paul knew that blessing the Pastor was remarkably important when he said these words to Timothy and now to us all.
A wise, incredibly humble Texan Pastor I interviewed yesterday said, "Some would think double honor sounds excessive, but the reality is no one fully understands the pressures on your Pastor at any given time as they carry with them the burdens of many in the congregation quietly and confidentially... This is not work that you can leave at the office, it weighs on you. I believe it is for this reason Paul calls us to double honor."
So, how do we apply this? Here are some insights shared with me from Pastors and their wives all over the country:
1. Do the basics consistently.
The greatest way to bless your pastor is to be one of those faithful people who attends, serves and gives consistently. This gives such assurance to a Pastor and their staff.
One of the most well studied Pastors I know on church leadership said, "When people do the regular basics and never make a big deal about it, the other stuff you do for your Pastor is so much more meaningful. Some people try to bless their Pastor on their terms and they are loud about it. They don't tithe... but hey Pastor-you can use our lakehouse with strings attached."
Let's bless our Pastor and his staff with the basics. Give gifts without strings. And don't toot our horn about doing so.
2. Let go of the unrealistic expectations.
Almost every Pastor I talked to addressed the issue of inviting he and his family over for dinner. While it seems like something we're doing for the Pastor, it usually isn't the gift they need. More than spending time with my family, they need to spend time with theirs. Bless them with gift certificates. Or schedule to take them a meal and just drop it off- especially during those busy times of Easter and Christmas.
Of course, they will have friends who are close enough where a dinner with that family is completely comfortable and refreshing. But let the Pastor and his wife initiate this. Give them the freedom to have close friends and not feel guilty or exclusive in doing so. One Pastor's wife said to me, "I think the thing that discourages me the most is people commenting on my friendships. Using the word clique to describe my friendships rather than just being happy I have a community is hurtful."
Let's bless our Pastor and his family with freedom. They need friends. And it's okay if we're not dinner buddies.
3. Love the Pastor's wife.
One Pastor wrote and said, "Please give my wife face to face affirmation." Another said, "When my wife hears negative things about the church or me-it crushes her."
Another Pastor's wife gave some interesting insight into how to greet her so she doesn't feel like a heel for not remembering everyone personally. She said, "It's hard when people say-Do you remember me? Instead just introduce yourself and remind me where we've met before."
Let's commit to our Pastor's wife the gift of kind words. I know as a female leader, when someone commits to me that they will only say kind and affirming things about me, my ministry, and my family-it makes me feel so safe.
4. Don't assume other people are encouraging your Pastor.
Send those notes of encouragement. Write the email where you tell him what a difference that sermon made in your life. Don't assume they get plenty of positive feedback-because usually they aren't.
Let's commit to not just be someone who appreciates our Pastor in our hearts-but let's let them know over and over.
5. Keep studying how to bless your Pastor.
Become aware of how your Pastor best needs to be blessed and step into that role. Make it a family mission to be one of those foundational families at church who stays out of the drama, seeks to give not take, and stays for the long haul honoring him all the way.
And don't forget the other Pastoral staff who serve so faithfully as well.
It's Biblical. It's good. And while I've got a long way to go, I'm committed to honoring my Pastors with much more intentionality. What about you?
By Lysa TerKeurst
Lysa admits that she, like most women has had experiences where others bump into her happy and she comes emotionally unglued. We stuff, we explode, or we react somewhere in between. Filled with gut-honest personal examples and bible teaching, Unglued will equip you to: Know with confidence how to resolve conflict in your important relationships and find peace in your most difficult relationships as you learn to be honest but kind when offended. Click here for information on Unglued.
A Sunday Scripture
Sep 30, 2012 01:20 am | LJ
Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.
Now we ask you, brothers, to respect those who work hard among you, who are over you in the Lord and who admonish you. Hold them in the highest regard in love because of their work. Live in peace with each other. And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle, encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else.
Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is Gods will for you in Christ Jesus.
Do not put out the Spirits fire; do not treat prophecies with contempt. Test everything. Hold on to the good. Avoid every kind of evil.
May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.
Brothers, pray for us. Greet all the brothers with a holy kiss. I charge you before the Lord to have this letter read to all the brothers.
The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
I Thessalonians 5:11-28
:angel:
On Making Community: Part 2
Oct 01, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines
In Part 1, On Making Community, I talk about our small group and how it began and how it has remained in fellowship with such gentleness and care for one another, and I don't feel like the topic is complete without my sharing how this group has changed our lives in very tangible ways. I share in hopes that it will change your life by way of perspective – that YOU can love the needy in your midst.
My husband and I, we have been the needy, and our community group saw us as the perfect opportunity to show Christ's love when the pediatricians sent us hours away from home, away from our children, to take our baby to Children's Hospital. We had little time to even pack up.
When I stepped out of the appointment, our friend was in the waiting room with a cup of coffee for me. When I pulled into our driveway, Emily had been playing with my other boys, and the rest of our community descended on us with bags of groceries and a weed eater. One immediately started doing our lawn. One began to clean out our refrigerator because we would be gone a while, and it turned out to be 2 weeks total. One came with a medical notebook with files and tabs, so I could organize my thoughts and keep up with what the doctors would be sharing with us about our Titus. I still use this notebook every week.
They arranged to care for the boys when family couldn't, and they arranged for strangers even to bring us meals while we were in the hospital. They themselves visited us there. We received dinners for weeks after our return home. They gave us money to help with the insane bills, and they cleaned our house, did electrical work, and fixed a broken chair. It's too much for me. One day weeks after being home from the hospital, I looked up and saw that all the books on a huge shelf had been arranged and organized. I closed my eyes and tried to let it root down in me, how to love and to be loved.
One of the greatest things I learned during our neediest time is that much of what comforted us was so extremely simple and free. The greatest gift our community has given us is the gift of presence. It wasn't those who had a comforting story or anyone that said, "I know how you feel" that comforted us. It was the ones who just came and sat, even with nothing to say. My girlfriends held Titus with that feeding tube attached to the pump, and they treasured him, bounced him around, and treated him like a normal child while I stretched my back and sometimes when I stared blankly into the corner.
One late evening after we had expressed deep concern for our own weariness, a friend called and said he was coming over and had something for us. When we opened the door to him, all he had was a tall cup of water. We have a tap-full of water, but we stood in the kitchen there, and my husband drank every drop, silence in the drinking and peace over our house.
I want to encourage you, especially if you're one of the bajillion of us whose neediness is out of control and you're weary for life in community. I want to encourage you to go BE COMMUNITY for someone else. Go and give what little you have, even if all you have is a tall green glass filled with water. Making community is simply acknowledging the living-water in you and then letting the peace of that stream flow into someone else's life.
Post by Amber C Haines
:angel: :angel:
7: Month 6– Spending
Oct 01, 2012 01:05 am | Angie
Read:
Month 1: Food – Guest Post & Link Up
Month 2: Clothes – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 3: Possessions - Guest Post – Link Up
Month 4: Media – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 5: Waste – Guest Post – Link Up
Spending. This is a topic we can all relate too, right? When you really sit down and look at where your money is going, it's probably surprising. Read below for Jen's takeaway after a month of only spending money in 7 places.
I've discovered reduced consumption doesn't equal reduced community or reduced contentment. There is something liberating about unplugging the machine to discover the heartbeat of life still thumping. Maybe we don't need all those wires after all. Maybe we're healthier unhooked from the life-support of consumerism than we imagined. Is there a less-traveled path through our me-first culture that is more adventurous and fulfilling than the one so heavily trod? One that sacrifices none of the good parts of the story but inspires us to reimagine the sections that are bleeding us all dry?
I think maybe there is.
Watch:
7 – Month 6: Spending, Bloom (in)courage Book Club from Bloom (in)courage on Vimeo.
{Subscribers, click here to watch}
Discuss:
Spend some time looking into how many places you spent money at last month. Are you as surprised by this number as we were? In what areas of your life can you spend less and give more? How can you serve those who are 'marginalized in your own community'?
Share:
Join us this Wednesday as Lindsey from A Dollop of Life shares a guest post on how her spending habits have affected her life. And if you've also shared about this month's topic on your blog, won't you link up with us on Friday or share in the comments? We'd love to hear from you!
Pst, Want to stay up to date on each new chapter? You can now sign up for exclusive emails from Bloom! It's free – just sign up here if you would like to receive emails when new Bloom posts are available.
:angel: :angel:
One of the Key Secrets about Joy: {Free Printable}
Oct 02, 2012 05:00 am | Ann Voskamp
When the preacher rings over, I stand there with the phone thinking about the answering machine.
What worthwhile inventions they are.
And how if I had just chosen to let it go to the machine, I wouldn't be standing here trying to push stubbornly awkward words from my flustered brain to my thick tongue.
Technology can connect or cut off and machines can liberate or incarcerate, and the preacher says he's glad I chose to pick up.
How do you live in a community of faith when a community can fail?
How do you reach out when women can bite?
Or wear maddening masks or talk about lifting Jesus high but let you down or seem all coiffed perfectly round while you're chiseled definitely square? I manage the phone between shoulder and ear and make a bed.
The preacher tells me about the new sermon series. I try to stammer two words in a series that make sense. He asks if I have any books on my shelf that might help with sermon preparation? And I am running my finger along the spine of books and it was last week a woman told me she really didn't like women's events or gatherings and there are a thousand reasons why the spine of a woman can curve away from her own.
And then he says it, words of a gentle shepherd, while my finger's somewhere near a dog-eared commentary on Matthew:
"You know – I'm looking forward to the day when you aren't the first one out the door Sunday morning."
When you're read like a book you don't have to look for anything else on the shelf. I lean up against the wall and it supports. What do I say?
How many years has he noticed that I've been running, that I've been bent over and heaving with this side stitch of the getting away, that when you don't think anyone will take you, you take the exit door first.
And I turn Sara's silver ring, bent and hammered, right there on my right hand. I've worn it for more than a year of Sundays now.
A gift from Sara, the woman who couldn't leave her house — to the woman too afraid to leave hers. How many times in the last year I had opened the front door and known that ring's encircling, its certain embrace? I had never even met Sara face to face. But you can pray through pixels and you can strengthen through screens and community happens wherever grace makes a safe place.
Hearts can transplant directly into words and encouragement can save lives.
Sara had laid in a bed, her pain at a 9 on a scale of 1 to ten, and she had sent me words. I sent her sheets and silk pink pajamas and a new keyboard. She had written more words. I had wept over deep barbs. She used vowels and consonants and the balm of the Word to free me. She couldn't leave her house. She was dying.
But she knew it: You only really breathe inside a Body.
She didn't let anything cut her off from the oxygen found in His Body.
That's what Sara had said: Choose Joy. The universe works this way: you can choose joy like your weather, like your very own sky. Like your very own oxygen.
I look out the window to the west, to the conflicted October blue laying out over fields and I turn Sara's ring and the pastor waits in this long gentle patience on the other end of the line and wasn't that what Sara had wanted to encircle me: You can have every excuse — but let nothing excuse you from joy.
Excuses to avoid community can right excuse you from joy.
Why is to so hard to let people love you?
How do you let imperfect love get into your imperfect places?
How many times do I have to learn it — The shields you use to protect yourself can become the bars that imprison you alone.
I had told Sara that and was I ready to feel it: Joy and pain, they are but two arteries of the one heart that pumps through all those who don't numb themselves to really living.
There's no other way to really live. Risking pain is the only way to risk really living — and the only other option is to live safe and dead.
Sara chose joy because she chose community — right where she was, right how she was — even when everything was all wrong. Which was the beginning of turning things right.
And I whisper yes.
I tell the Preacher man yes, I need to stop running scared before I run out of time and I need to risk closeness and one plus one can make a holy community of three.
And after Sunday sermon, I don't run – I stand in the chapel foyer long, listening, and I let women's shoulders brush mine and we are real and velveteen. Babies cry. We pass them back and forth. We rock and we laugh and there is no shame in tears.
Is this the messy threefold cord He intends to use to bind up wounds?
And it wraps around me right there —
one ring ringing me awake to every day's silver-lined choice.
~ written for you and Sara with such love, by Ann Voskamp ... some photos by Jessica Turner
Q4U: Do you think joy is a choice? Why don't we always choose it?
Tell us your CHOOSE JOY story... here is a safe place to do real community together...
:angel: :angel:
Why I Don't Do Perfect
Oct 02, 2012 01:10 am | Wendy van Eyck
When I was seven I discovered that I was not perfect.
I was doomed to go through life with a flaw.
I was just learning to write. I would create lengthy stories, inscribing them in immature letters for my teacher.
I thought it was a sign of my writing talent that the teacher constantly asked me to read the stories I had written to her. I never thought it was because she could not read them without my interpretation.
I never considered that my spelling rendered my teacher illiterate.
After I was diagnosed with an audio perception problem part of my therapy was to visit a speech therapist twice a week.
Her name was Adele. Adele had slightly graying hair and worked from her home.
She taught me to play word games. She would read the word. I would match the word with a picture. If I got it right, the puzzle could be flipped over to reveal a secret pattern. If I got it wrong, I failed.
I found this really frustrating. I failed often, or maybe once or twice, but it was a lot in my mind.
Perfect children did not need speech therapy and they excelled if they did go.
Why could I not do this? Why could I not be perfect?
I would get annoyed with myself and I would cry in frustration. One haunting day tears were making trails down my cheeks and Adele asked me why.
I told her I was crying because I was not perfect.
If I was Adele I think I may have laughed. I think I may have said, "Oh honey, no one is perfect!"
Instead, Adele told me it didn't matter I wasn't perfect.
She opened her mouth and let life tumble out.
Her heart told me that if I were perfect Jesus would have nothing to do.
That if I were perfect Jesus would not have had to die.
And Jesus died so I could be perfect.
She let me know that Jesus died for me, when I was not perfect, because he loved me, accepted me and cared for me as I was.
He loved the problems and the I-want-to-be-perfect-attitude and the little girl with tears speaking her fears.
I did not believe what Adele said for a long time but I remembered her words.
I knew then that she had not said them just to make me feel better; she had said them because they were beautiful, and true, and could set me free from my need to be perfect.
One day, I found them stumbling out my mouth to meet the wound of another broken person, to bandage up their imperfections with hope and truth.
And they can set you free too.
They can set you free from the need to always be the person you think that others want you to be. They can allow you to relax and just be who you are when you're alone or with someone that you trust.
If you allow yourself to inhale the freedom that Christ offers when you realize that you don't do perfect. And you don't need to.
Because perfect is God's department. And he's got that covered.
By Wendy van Eyck, I Love Devotionals
:angel: :angel:
Making Connections When Your Location Keeps Changing
Oct 03, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
"Every experience God gives us, every person he brings into our lives, is the perfect preparation for the future that only he can see."
Corrie ten Boom
She gave me a smile with the good news, and naturally I hugged her.
He told us his family was moving to Maine, and naturally I cried.
Shared moments with close friends, right? Not exactly. The person delivering good news was the receptionist at my auto mechanic's shop. The one who moved? He was the kids' orthodontist.
I still don't much care for his replacement.
So now you know my secret: When it comes to getting attached to people, I lean a tad on the crazy side. Once I feel a connection with someone, it's easy for me to hang on and hard for me to let go. And I wonder: Are you a little like me? Not the crying-because-your-orthodontist-is-moving part. But when it comes to making friends, do you resist new connections in favor of treasured old ones? If you do, I so. get. it.
As a military wife, I get a crash course in making new friends every three years or so. The government finds David a new assignment, our things find themselves a new house, and the kids and I find we need new close-by friends. But you know what? Sometimes I just get plumb tired of looking for them. I'd rather knock some moving boxes off a chair, cross my arms tight, and sink into memories of the friends I already have. They're far away, but they're familiar.
I'm having one of those days when the Lord brings Sara to mind.
Sara, an (in)courage writer and forever joy grabber-giver, was housebound with a disease called Ankylosing Spondylitis until the Lord brought her home last September. While she lived housebound for years, she moved far beyond her four walls. Her exuberant words were hands and arms reaching through screens and building up many. Knowing this, I ask the Lord to remind me of the lesson He has for me through a girl whose lifestyle was opposite of my own.
He whispers it to my heart,
"In her own circles, Sara went out of her way to give what she could."
I say it again to myself,
Sara went out of her way. A woman who had not been able to leave her condo for years – or even open a window to welcome the outdoors – she went out of her way to give what had been given her. Can't I do this?
Yes, but I get stubborn. And I straight up tell this to the Lord,
"Why should I go out of my way to initiate friendships when I've already had to do it a million times and its tiring and awkward? Why don't the people come find me instead? After all, the new people are usually obvious."
And then I hear the answer. For me to receive what Jesus offers, I must open my hands and heart. If I want to find connections close to home, I must do the same. I must go out of my way to do what I can.
True, this sounds counter-intuitive in today's feed-me culture. I know this as well as anyone. In the land of facebook, twitter, emails, and instant messages, it feels natural to stay in-ward.
But wherever God places me, I want Him to use me. So I must go out-ward. I must uncross my arms, rise from my chair, and do what I can to show a welcoming spirit. I must go out of my way to show people The Way.
May we offer smiling eyes, a warm handshake, and a kind introduction to those people God brings in our lives. And with faith and patience as our friends, may we find new connections not in spite of our location, but because of it.
{A little more encouragement on finding friends?}
What You Can Find While You're Waiting on Friends
When You Need Friends {But Have a Hard Time Finding Them}
When You're Not Sure How to Build Near and Dear Relationships
When You Need You're Heart in the Right Place {And a Friendship Manifesto}
Printable Friendship Manifesto
How do you go out of your way to make friends, especially when you don't feel like it? When your circles or location change?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies here, there, and everywhere.
:angel:
Chapter 6 Guest Post: A Realignment of Focus
Oct 03, 2012 01:05 am | Linds
Photo credit: Michael Dales via Flickr
A few months ago, over dinner with a friend, I mentioned the fact that I was lonely. Perhaps lonely wasn't even the right word. Unsettled may be a better description. You see, we had recently purchased a new home, and what to some would be a stepping stone home, to us was our final home. The weird looks I would get when I would say that this was our forever home was nothing new. You get weird looks when you don't have cable or satellite, when you drive old, used cars that are paid off, when you bring your lunch to work while everyone else eats out every day, and when every single article of clothing could fit in half of a closet. We live in such a way that people think we're weird. So it wasn't the weird looks that made me lonely. No, it was the fact that I felt like no one else around me "got it." It was a mild pity party at best, and I was well on my way to being swept into the cultural think tank that told me I needed more than what I already had.
And then I read "7."
To me, "7″ gave me freedom in knowing that sometimes it's ok to be weird. But it went even further than that... it also gave me a realignment of my focus. I realized that my minimalist lifestyle had become so habitual, that I had forgotten the meaning behind the action. I had forgotten that I wasn't just living so that I could hoard my wealth. No, we had lived this way so that we could be in a position to give, and not just give with the leftovers, but fully give from the harvest. Yet somehow, I had lost focus and instead found myself questioning why I saved at all, wondering if the lonely path was even worth the heartache. My dear friend Katie summed it up so well when she said to me: "We [spend] and [spend] and [spend] our bountiful resources that God has lavished on us so that when a big need arises, we can help, but only in a small way. The giving doesn't come remotely close to the gift God has given us."
When I finished "7," I blogged about what it meant to me and what I was learning. I feel like the words I wrote captures my heart more than anything else I could type now:
"...So I began praying that the Lord would really make true the words that were coming from my mouth. That my heart would really break for what breaks Jesus' heart. That my eyes would see what Jesus sees. And what I was reminded of was that Jesus isn't worried about sending my kids to the best preschool, best elementary school or saving for the next house. He certainly isn't worried about my comfort. He is worried about His message. [His message of grace, forgiveness, mercy, love and hope.] And what saddens me is that I was slowly trying to jump onto the bandwagon of being a comfortable Christian. A Christian who went to church, who served at church (Jen often spoke of blessing those who were already richly blessed... my toes were stepped on quite a few times), and then who left the doors of the building and never brought the Savior I know and love to the people who need Him the most. [The least of these became the least remembered.]
I had slowly started believing the lie that [my family] and I need to lead comfortable, safe lives. That we deserved this or that. That I needed a bigger house for ministry or a bigger blog to really speak truth. I believed the lie that missions is overseas, not next door. I've believed the lie that my children should be sheltered from the poor school, the poor neighborhoods, the homeless and the people who live differently from me. I've dug into the scriptures and what I have found is that those who were concerned with the bigger parts of life, the rules and the "looks"... most often missed the mark. It was the ones who didn't have anything who got it. The lady who was a prostitute was the one who was spoken gently to by the Savior. The pharisees? They were most often chastised, for their shallow religion and rules. I don't want to miss the mark. I want to love those who no one else will love. I want to be sold out to the mission of Jesus. Read Matthew 23 and tell me it doesn't rock your world. The ones who were supposed to be the true Christians were chastised by Jesus and given woes that make me cringe just reading."
You see, in getting tired of being counter cultural, I had forgotten that Jesus didn't call me to live a comfortable life, but a life that is spent. Not spent in a sense that I spend all of my money, but a sense that I spend all of ME. I love when Jen said:
"If a fast doesn't include any sacrifices, then it's not a fast. The discomfort is where the magic happens.... When the fast, the death, the sacrifice of the gospel is omitted from the Christian life, then it isn't Christian at all."
I'm called to lose, to lay it all on the line. All for the greater good of the Kingdom. I'm in.
So, I'm back to being weird. To being counter cultural. I'm completely sold out to the idea of living simply so that I can give extravagantly. I'm finally realizing that in order to be completely sold out on Jesus, I have to be ok with the sometimes lonely path. But I'm ok with being weird, especially if it means I'm in the middle of His will. And honestly, there's no better place for me to be.
By Lindsey, A Dollop of My Life
:angel: :angel:
Emerging
Oct 02, 2012 02:30 pm | Angela Nazworth
I've been in a funk. It began about six months ago as a foggy, shell-shocked feeling that I haven't since been able to shake.
I'm not referring to a season of depression or even a lingering state of mild melancholy ... just more or less out-of-sorts.
It makes sense. My funk. After all, 2012 has been an eventful year for me and my family. I lost my job. Found a new one. Moved ... again. And most recently, I began a brand new job (my second one since the layoff).
Even though each event — even the toughest ones — brought innumerable blessings,the sum also has left me feeling spiritually and emotionally fatigued.
Until recently, I adopted a "roll-with-the-punches mindset" and had been ignoring those tiresome, dreary blahs. While I didn't shut God out of my life during the recent changes, I didn't invite Him to step closer either. I felt as though I was too busy to read more scripture. Too busy for encouraging words. Too busy to even take time to plan for the days ahead.
The more I trotted forward at my own pace, the heavier life felt.
Recently, I was reminded that I actually need to fit more into my crammed life. Not more items on my to-do list, but more of Jesus. More of His word. More encouragement from other believers.
The more truth and "good stuff" that pervade my days, the less burdened I feel. The fog has lifted and I am emerging from this sleepy funk.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
5 Ways to Love from Afar
Oct 04, 2012 01:20 am | Jessica Turner
For me, the best thing blogging has brought me are friends.
Deep. Authentic. Rich friendships.
The only problem is that none of these friends live around the corner.
They live in California and Canada. D.C and L.A.
One lived in Iowa.
Now she lives in heaven and my heart.
Sara.
Sara, Sara, Sara. The friend I keep talking about these days. We all do.
She would be mortified by all this talking.
Sara was the first *deep* blog friendship I cultivated.
Probably because she took the time to cultivate too.
Nothing was one sided with Sara.
As I pray about this post and seek what would Sara want to share, I think it would be to not fear friendship. Dive in. Don't be afraid. Even if the person lives across the country.
Cultivating friendships can be challenging – and even more so if you aren't in the same town as your friend. Last week I shared 5 ways Sara's in-town friends served her. Today I am going to share 5 ways to love on your out-of-town friends.
1. Call them – This is the easiest one. Just pick up the phone. I called Sara multiple times a week, which allowed me to really know what was going on in her world.
2. Send them mail – I loved, loved, LOVED sending mail to Sara because it was such a huge day brightener for her. Sometimes it was just a card, other times it was a package filled with snacks or something extra. In this day of email and text messages, people love pen to paper, REAL MAIL.
Also, if you know of a friend's need, surprise them by meeting it! Because of Sara's circumstances and limited budget, it was easy to send her surprises that met a need. Being able to meet needs for Sara was a gift for her, but blessed me the giver even more.
3. Read their blogs & comment- If your out-of-town friend has a blog, read it and engage. I always read Sara's blog, but I didn't always comment. In retrospect I wish I had because it would have shown her that I was engaged.
4. Visit - If budget and time allows, plan an in-person visit. I had the opportunity to visit Sara last August, about six weeks before she passed away. The memories of that afternoon together will stay with me forever.
5. Pray for them – Take time to pray for your out-of-town friends. It can be hard not knowing what is going on in their day to day life, but that doesn't mean your prayers aren't meaningful. Even if you don't know what to specifically pray, your prayers will be heard by their loving Father who knows their needs.
How do you love on your out-of-town friends?
By Jessica Turner, The Mom Creative
:angel: :angel:
Herd Jumpers
Oct 04, 2012 01:10 am | Amanda Hill
Humans are inherently pack animals. I think it's bred into our souls to walk together. Hillary Clinton says it takes a village to raise a child, and even Jesus chose twelve disciples. We all huddle together as families and units, and choose folks that think and eat and pray like we do. When we stray too far from the herd, we are weak and vulnerable. Wolves surround us and start closing in. It's safer to stay hunkered down in the middle.
And yet safe is boring. So I start breaking free.
Growing up, I drifted around amongst the ranks. I struggled to succeed in music. I barely made the tennis team. I waved at the cheerleaders on the sidelines. I was a debater, a participant in all forms of dorky clubs, and a lover of English. In college, I was a Resident Assistant in the dorms and hung out with the music nerds. I couldn't figure out where I belonged as I darted between the herds. I wanted to find my own people.
Finally, I met a man who would become my husband. He, like me, was a wanderer. A strange fellow without a home. Together, we formed our own pack, and I finally knew the feeling of being a part of something. And over the years, through blessings and trials of all kinds, I saw that I was a part of something bigger. I realized that God was there during all my darting and drifting.
I wasn't alone after all.
As I grow into parenthood, I see so much segregation. There are the church groups, and the private school moms, and the writers. There are the artists and the musicians and the book club folks. I still find myself sprinting between them and hope it's not too obvious I'm not a regular. There are times I put on a frilly top with leggings and bangle bracelets and stay in one group for a while, only to feel the longing to leave and join the ranks of another. So I put on my running shoes and sprint quickly through the desolate fields between them. I don't want to be eaten by wolves. I don't want to be caught in the middle. I want to be squarely in the pack. For safety.
I wrote a quote to put in my daughter's room, because I think a mother's words are powerful. It reads:
Be brave. It's more important that you try new things and fail than to sit comfortably in an easy place succeeding. Don't feel that your failures will ever disappoint me, for in those failures you learn character, and strength, and perspective.
Think higher. Dream bigger. God expects you to use your talents to their very fullest.
You are never alone.
Maybe not fitting in is a good thing. Perhaps in the times we are afraid and vulnerable, running in the wide open fields of doubt, we find our true footing. We can rest in the comfort that God is our Shepherd. We can look at the wolves and think you can't touch me. After all, others are running too. Left and right they dart amongst safe places. We grab hands with these believers and form our own rag-tag herd. We laugh. We pray. And we fail. But we keep on running.
For we are loved, and we are not alone, that's what really matters.
By Amanda B. Hill, hill + pen
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Finding Quiet Spaces in a Loud, Loud World
Oct 05, 2012 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
The faraway jet moves closer. I stop what I'm doing, look up into the cool October sky. I'm careless, though, and instead I gaze straight into the sun, white turns green against my eyelids.
The jet is over my head, I can tell by the heavy loudness in the air. Smarter now, I cup my hand at my eyebrows and look up again. Too many trees block the way and the jet sounds change from coming to going.
I'm missing it.
But really? I'm 35 years old. I've seen jets before. Why am I still compelled to look, drop everything to find the source of the growling roar?
The louder the sound, the more instinctual my attention.
Cloaked in quietness, the vine climbs higher, inches her way across the white picket fence. These introverted buds whisper their growing secrets only to those who stop to listen.
I'm missing it.
This time, it's true.
The urgent bursts into the room, dramatic and demanding.
The important things whisper, steady and waiting.
I have a lot to learn.
Every weekend in October I'm in a different city. Good things, all good things. But there is stillness of soul and quietness of heart I long to learn. I've been blogging now for almost seven years, writing books for three.
There is a time to speak, and I've been doing a lot of it.
There is also a time to keep silence.
I want to learn a new rhythm of listening. I desperately need to hear God, to hear the shape of my own desire, to confront lingering fear that still smokes through my insides. I'm writing through the learning for 31 days this month, a small bit each day.
31 Days to Hush: Thoughts on Becoming a Curious Listener.
The irony is not lost on me, this incessant talk of listening.
I refuse to feel guilty for the way I learn best. And so I write through the learning this month, the learning of listening and hearing and waiting.
Do you feel the pull to quiet this October?
by emily at Chatting at the Sky
:angel: :angel:
Chapter 6: Spending- Link Up!
Oct 05, 2012 01:10 am | incourage
What if every dollar we earned had a name on it? Kirsten points out this questions this week as we focus on Spending. Read a portion of her post below and then click through to read the rest on her blog. We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!
Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Via Kirsten @ Eight | Twenty-Eight}
Whether I spend money at seven stores or 70, what I feel most convicted about is how readily, and thoughtlessly, I spend at all. Certainly, curtailing the number of stores at which I could make purchases would eliminate a lot of frivolous spending. But the exercise from which I would glean the most is spending only in $1 bills. I would be forced to connect with each dollar, acquainting myself with whose name is on each.
Some of those dollars have my name and the names of my family members on them. God appointed some of them to be spent in care-taking for our needs. "Our enemy," as John Stott said, "is not possessions, but excess." As I count out each one — be it for the luxury of a new pair of shoes or the necessity of a week's worth of groceries — I will be required to examine on whom I placed priority in that transaction.
Will I choose to indulge myself in luxury or be an answer to the prayers of whoever's name is invisibly-inscribed on those dollars?
Click here to continue reading...
:angel: :angel:
When the Beach House Comes to Life
Oct 06, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
Although the (in)courage beach house exists primarily in the virtual, sometimes it gloriously comes to life: the (in)RL meetups; online friendships that become face-to-face; a late-summer weekend when this site's authors gather to relax, to know each other better, and to plan ways to bless this community.
For me, the trip started in my driveway with Robin, Deidra, my kids, and a sweet Sorento that Kia loaned me for the trip. Don't let anyone tell you that your online friendships aren't real, that they couldn't possibly survive transitioning to face-to-face. These girls are dear to me and we enjoyed our time together on the road, solving the world's problems, drinking sweet tea, and eating chicken.
Now let's visit the beach house!
We ate chocolate.
We shot video segments for (in)RL. (I can't wait to see the blooper reel.)
We practiced our mad dance skillz.
And because we wanted to participate in a service project together, we worked with Habitat for Humanity. This was my first experience with them and I had some misconceptions. I thought their volunteers were primarily socially responsible 20-somethings; however, we learned that most of those who worked on this house were retired.
They were thankful for the arrival of twenty helpers!
Here's a bit about Habitat for Humanity from their website:
We are a nonprofit, ecumenical Christian ministry founded on the conviction that every man, woman and child should have a decent, safe and affordable place to live. We build with people in need regardless of race or religion. We welcome volunteers and supporters from all backgrounds.
Signing up to volunteer was easy; click here to find out how.
We laid sod and spread mulch and our efforts made such a difference!
The new owner worked side-by-side with us. We gave gifts for her new home and shared hugs and tears.
Then we loaded up our dirty, sweaty selves and drove to Starbucks. Yes, we did. But first we walked next door to Five Guys and put away a serious amount of burgers and fries. We'd worked up a healthy appetite and glowed with the satisfaction of hard work for a good cause. We shone with something else, too. I'm sure the locals wondered about this ragged, smelly crew of joyous women.
The good news is you don't have to travel to bring God's beach house to life.
For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them. ~Matthew 18:20
How can you connect with women in your area? What are some ways can you serve and bless others by working together?
:angel:
Hands up for the loop-de-loop
Oct 08, 2012 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
This year, two of my kids are in school. This is not newsworthy, except for the fact that I swore we'd homeschool most of elementary school, and yet here I am, happily (albeit a little reluctantly) sending them to one of those school places instead of learning at home.
In my early parenting days, and for most of my teenage years, I'd have never in a million years guessed I'd want to homeschool. I'm a product of public school, K through twelfth, and never imagined doing anything else.
But when we decided to move overseas, one of the price tags was homeschooling—our Middle Eastern city didn't have any English-speaking schools, and our local neighborhood's school was a bit on the scary side. So I made my peace with the idea of homeschooling, and eventually became sold on all its benefits. There are many.
The point of my post today isn't to weigh the pros and cons of different schooling methods. It's about letting go.
See, I've been utterly in His hands, year after year, with the path God asks me to take; so much so that I'm now more surprised than shocked with life's changes. I could write a book about all the unexpected loops and stomach-dropping dips on the roller coaster ride I'm on with my family, and school has been just one of them. But each one, going through dark tunnels and speeding around the bend with the breeze in my hair, has reminded me that I am not God, and that He Who Is is much more infinitely good, wise, and trustworthy than myself.
Homeschooling—and the lack thereof this year—is more symbolic to me right now than anything. Symbolic of how I like to place on pedestals my ideals, my way of doing things, my preferences, above that which is ultimately best. Of how it's so much easier to focus on the appearance of what's best instead of what's truly the best thing for me and my family. Of how I think I know what I'm doing, but no matter which path He calls me to walk, God will take care of every little significant detail.
When I lean into the wild and wonderful gust of trusting God, I'm held steady by His goodness. When I turn my face to His pleasure instead of the approval of people, I can follow the curves and turns of my path, no matter how steep or sharp or unexpected.
I typically say that we are year-at-a-time, kid-at-a-time people when it comes to schooling because I can make all the plans I want in my heart, but God ultimately determines my steps. For me, to do anything but reevaluate every year is to say I can clearly see our path eighteen years away. I can't. And I've known from experience that He delights in our family following Him like flint into the unknown.
The schooling bit of this post doesn't matter. It's just an example. Being willing to let go is just as faith-full in deciding where to live, how to earn money, what books to read or TV shows to watch, how to relate to people, or whom to marry.
As for me, I want to be ready for anything. To go anywhere, do anything, and join my family into the wild goodness of following our Father. Leaning into change, instead of resisting it, makes the ride that much sweeter.
I can let go of the safety bar as we careen down the hill, or I can hold on for dear life—either way, I'm on a crazy ride. But in one circumstance, I'm reluctant and reticent, and I'm missing out on some of the fun. The other, I'm feeling the sway of every delightful bend.
What crazy ride is God taking you on right now? Are your hands raised in the air, or are you clenching the safety bar?
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel: :angel:
7: Month 7– Stress
Oct 08, 2012 01:05 am | Jessica Turner
Read:
Month 1: Food – Guest Post & Link Up
Month 2: Clothes – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 3: Possessions - Guest Post – Link Up
Month 4: Media – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 5: Waste – Guest Post – Link Up
Month 6: Spending — Guest Post– Link Up
During month seven, Jen takes time to pause and pray 7 times each day. She talks about how difficult this month was for her below:
I found this month very challenging and equally beautiful. Evidently, I don't respond well to interruptions, Spirit-led or otherwise.
But these pauses, plus the Sabbath, plus the sabbatical taught me something: My heart craves a slower life. I want people to stop prefacing their phone calls with this: "I know you're so busy, but if I could just have a second..." I want to figure out what this means for our family. We can't live in the barn forever, nor can we pull out of work, ministry, school, community, mission, family, and all the activities that accompany them. But what can we do to cultivate a quiet ranch heart in a noisy urban world?
Watch:
7 – Month 7: Stress, Bloom (in)courage Book Club by Bloom (in)courage from Bloom (in)courage on Vimeo.
{Subscribers, click here to watch}
Discuss:
Do you find yourself so caught up in the stress of your life that you forget to cover it in prayer?
Share:
Join us this Wednesday as Crystal from Money Saving Mom shares a guest post on how this chapter on Stress affected her life. And if you've also shared about this month's topic on your blog, won't you link up with us on Friday or share in the comments? We'd love to hear from you!
:angel: :angel:
We All Break Differently
Oct 09, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver
The Sunday after we left our church plant, we returned to our previous church home. We immediately began trying out Sunday school classes, looking for a new way to get involved, a new fit, a new family. Soon after, we met with one of the pastors to talk about why we'd come back, and not too much time later, I joined the choir and began attending rehearsals every Thursday night.
When we talked to friends who had left the church plant a few months earlier than us, they were surprised to hear that we'd jumped right back into church after the deep hurts we'd all experienced. "You must be super Christians," they joked.
At least, I think they were joking. They must have been. At that time they knew us better than pretty much anyone, so they knew all the many ways we were not "super" at all. Still, they seemed confused by the way we appeared not to need any down time after our heartbreak.
Our friends were taking some time off from church – time to process and to heal – as were several others involved in our church plant. And who could blame them? What we went through was traumatic . . . and exhausting . . . and life-changing. So why weren't we doing the same thing?
Though our eventual exits took place at slightly different times and with slightly different reasons, we all experienced many of the same challenges and hurts while planting that church. We all poured our hearts and souls into it. We all wrestled with the decision to leave. And in the end, we all left with regrets and heartache. And yet, we all reacted to the end of that season differently.
Even now, nearly seven years later, each of us has followed a unique journey of faith and church-life. Though we started in the same place and went through the same difficult experience, we've ended up (at least for now) on different paths. Going through what we did changed each of our life's trajectory – but not in the same ways.
To be clear, my way of coping wasn't any better than anyone else's. I jumped back into church life right away, but it was years before I felt safe enough to let a church family back into my heart. And even though we returned "home," we never actually fit back into the place we'd spent several years, and eventually, we had to move on in order to move on.
I could spend hours – or, at least, paragraphs – analyzing the whys and hows of all this. I could explain that while some people retreat in the face of crisis, my immediate reaction to trauma – whether it's losing my job, leaving a failed church plant or hearing that a family member has died – is to go, do, act until I can't feel anymore. (Then I fall apart later.) I could even settle into the idea that perhaps I was just a "super Christian" after all.
But really – and those of you who know me will not be surprised by this, I'm sure – the best explanation I can find comes from an episode of a TV show.
In an episode of Burn Notice, the mother of the main character, a CIA operative, asks why her two sons turned out so differently after growing up in the same dysfunctional family (something I've wondered about my own siblings and me, for sure). Here's the response she's given:
Imagine that you're holding on to two bottles. They drop, slowly. What happens? They both break. But it's how they break that's important. Because, you see, while one bottle crumples into a pile of glass, the other shatters into a jagged-edged weapon. You see, the exact same environment that forged older brother into a weapon crushed baby brother. People just don't all break the same, Mrs. Westen. Just don't.
We all break differently. We hurt differently. We react differently.
In the case of my friends and me, none of our bottles was broken better than others. If pressed I'd say that all of us crumpled into piles of glass; our piles just looked different. Because even though I dove right back into one church after throwing in the towel at another, it was a very long time before I actually healed. I was walking wounded, hiding my broken and bitter heart as deep as I could, all the while getting involved and finding a new place to belong on Sunday morning.
My particular (or peculiar, depending on who you ask) response to leaving our church didn't indicate my level of heartbreak any more than baking casseroles or sobbing all day long indicates a person's level of grief after a death. In the moment of crisis, every person will feel differently. And even if two people share some feelings, their responses to those feelings will be different, just as the long-term life change they endure as a result of that crisis will be different.
I think this is a lesson we all need to learn. Because even though you may never plant a church or go through the same difficult experiences I do, one of the few certainties of life is that disaster will come. And when it does, we might react differently than those around us. We might break differently.
And that's okay. God made each of us unique, so it really can't be helped that we all feel, react and break in different ways. That's why we must give each other grace when we go through tragedy together. My pain will look different than yours – and that's okay.
Have you ever struggled with the way others have responded to a shared experience? Have you noticed that we all break differently?
By: Mary, Giving Up on Perfect
:angel:
A Lonely Heart
Oct 09, 2012 01:10 am | Mandy Fahrni
Lonely. I hate that word. Such a sad word for sad people. But sometimes, as much as I'd like to deny it, I feel lonely.
My husband and sons fill my life, and I love that God chose me for them and them for me. Yet still, deep inside, my heart longs for a friend. Someone in the same stage of life with the same struggles, outlooks, interests. It's not too much to ask for, right? Just one close friend?
God had a lot to say about friendship, so my heart asks, "Why not, God? Why not a close friend for me?". I've read often that if friendship seems to elude you, then God is seeking to draw you close to Him. Maybe. Maybe. But still, isn't there just something normal and natural about being human and having another human to relate to?
In these moments of loneliness, I think about my boys. I think about how sad I would feel if one of my boys came to me and said he was lonely and didn't have any friends. My heart would break, and I would feel such compassion and love for him. I would want to make it right and take away his hurt.
God feels that for me. He responds like a parent because He is one. He longs to take our burdens (1 Peter 5:7), to draw close to us (James 4:8), to take care of us (Matthew 6:28-30). He responds like a good parent, because that's exactly what He is. A perfect Father.
Sometimes in the midst of a struggle, be it loneliness or worry or fear, the only thing we can do is rest in God. When being proactive and fighting just isn't in you, just rest. Rest, knowing that God sees you (Genesis 16:13). Rest, knowing that God wants what is best for you (which is ultimately for His glory) (Romans 8:28). Rest, knowing that tomorrow is a new day and God is compassionate toward us (Lamentations 2:22-23).
That desire for friendship will still be there. A night out at the movies with a close friend will still sound wonderful. But your heart will be comforted knowing that you are loved, cared for, protected by the Almighty One who sees you.
By Mandy Fahrni, At Home in the Bronx
:angel:
Chapter 7 Guest Post: Addicted to Adrenaline
Oct 10, 2012 01:05 am | Crystal
This past summer, we went to Arkansas for our annual vacation at the lake with all of my extended family. As is customary, the guys went and rented jet skis one afternoon.
Being the generous-hearted person I am (read: the person who would rather read a book in the cool cabin than risk life and limb doing water sports. Ahem.), I offered to stay back at the cabin with our children while my husband went out to have fun on the jet ski.
About two hours later, my sister knocked on the cabin door and said that my mom was going to watch our children so I could go down and enjoy the jet ski with my husband. While I would certainly have rather stayed put, I knew my husband would love for me to go careening around on the jet ski with him. So I took our children over to my parent's cabin to spend time with Grandma and I headed down to the boat dock where I was told I was supposed to meet up with my husband.
There weren't any jet skis in sight, but I figured they'd be back soon. So I sat down on the dock and waited. And waited. And waited.
(I found out later that the guys had gone back to get gas at the jet ski rental dock and then there was some confusion at the rental place as to when they needed to return the jet skis which took them a long time... they felt terrible when they found out later that I'd been sitting there waiting for them all that time!)
I hadn't prepared to be sitting and waiting at the boat dock, so I had nothing to do — no book to read, no paper to scribble down a to-do list or map out a blog post, no iPhone to check my email, no nothing. And I was afraid if I ran all the way back up the hill to the cabin, I'd miss the guys when they came back to pick me up.
As I sat there, I realized something: I never just sit.
Never.
In fact, with how antsy and uncomfortable I felt, I realized I don't know how to just sit. I have to keep hands or head busy at all times. And most of the time, I'm trying to multi-task to keep both of them busy in three different directions.
The honest answer is: I'm addicted to adrenaline. I want to constantly be going-going-going and doing-doing-doing.
Why? Well, I probably mentally justify that I'm trying to use my time wisely. And yes, of course, I'm not suggesting that I should develop the habit of laziness.
But I've been pondering this recently, digging deep, and really asking myself: have I become obsessed with busyness? Obsessed to the point that I can't even stop to savor the moments? Obsessed to the point that stopping to pray is hard because I can't shut my mind off and focus wholly on Jesus?
That's what I was challenged most by when reading 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. Truthfully, I picked up the book because it looked like a fun and inspiring read.
As my friends well know, I disdain clutter, I don't like shopping, and I'm happy with re-wearing the same things over and over again. (My husband even teased me that if I did the 7 Clothes Experiment — you know the one in the book like Jen did where you only wear seven different items of clothing for a month? — that I'd actually get to add a few things to my sparse wardrobe that month!)
The chapters on clothing and shopping and electronics were just lots of preaching to the choir. And I was starting to feel a little uppity. You know, like, I've got this whole freedom from excess thing down pat. I don't know what the rest of everyone else's problem is, but apparently I'm just a little more holy or something.
Yeah. I should know better than to start patting myself on the back. Every time I do that, God shakes some sense (and humility!) back into me by hitting me square in the forehead with a two-by-four.
And that's what chapter seven in Jen's book was for me. Maybe I only have 12 to 15 items in my wardrobe at any given time, maybe I have clutter-free kitchen countertops, and maybe I can shop at Target without buying a cartload of stuff that's not on my list.
But the trying to load too much onto my plate? Guilty as charged.
You know how Jen talks about the Seven Sacred Pauses, stopping seven times in the day to read Scripture and pray? Well, when I read that, I immediately thought, "Are you kidding me? When would I find time to do that? Isn't reading my Bible and a devotional book every morning enough?"
Yes, I know, it sounds ridiculous to admit that aloud. But I'm being authentic here.
It's almost like my morning quiet time has become just another to-do on my long list of frenzied productivity. Just one more thing to check off my list so I can feel like I'm doing my duty.
It's like I've become so busy doing life that I've stopped living life. I'm too focused on making sure that I plow through my to-do list and can pat myself on the back for being a powerhouse of productivity. In the process, I'm missing the moments and plowing over people.
Chapter seven was the reality jolt I needed to help me step back and re-examine my life. If I couldn't even find time to carve out for stopping to pray and read Scripture more than once in the morning, that might be indication I've got a priorities problem.
So, I've committed to be more intentional to practice the principle of quiet. In fact, I bought a candle that I light every morning as my reminder to take time to be still, to really stop and listen to what He wants to say to me.
Because if I'm too busy for Jesus, I'm just plain too busy.
By: Crystal, Money Saving Mom
:angel:
Sandpaper people
Oct 11, 2012 01:20 am | Robin Dance
Have you ever had people come into your life and, even if it's not intentional, make it more difficult?
Maybe they're critical or judgmental; they're excessively needy and demand more than you can give relationally, emotionally or physically; sometimes they take the opposite position of anything you say or do; or they're just plain mean, undermining or cruel with their words.
Sandpaper people I've called them...abrasive, irritating or generally rough to be around.
Are you like me and see them as thorns, prickly and inconvenient? Have you shared Paul's lament and prayed for God to remove them from your side? When someone closer to me is particularly trying– friends...family...or even my own children, I've begged God to change them.
Years ago as a young mom, I was struggling through an emotionally draining, almost soul-defeating season with a strong-willed child. I read all the "right" parenting books; I prayed, earnest and unceasing, and plumbed the depths of scripture for treasureous wisdom; and I sought the advice and counsel of many. But it would be my father-in-law who would pose an inflammatory question that would ignite fiery indignation within me...changing me forever–
"What if this is about you?"
No sooner had the question left his lips and landed my ears did my defensive torrent erupt. How dare he suggest my son's behavior was my fault! I hurled a half dozen recent incidents to illustrate just how wrong he was. He patiently waited until I finally had to take a breath.
I didn't say how he's acting is your fault he began, his tone gentle and loving. I said maybe this is about you. He went on to explain that maybe, just maybe, God was allowing the dynamics of the relationship with my son to do a refining work in my life.
My father-in-law...the prophet.
But weary and hard of hearing, my cluttered mind and frustrated heart would take days to actually hear his wisdom. It clicked when I was at Target strolling the toys.
A Rock Tumbler ephinany.
My Rock Tumbler set was one of my favorite childhood toys, no less than magic in my estimation. A bag of ordinary rocks transformed into extraordinary polished stones, just by adding water and grit (3x) and spinning them for a few weeks in a tumbler.
Looking at that Rock Tumbler I suddenly understood what my father-in-law had been saying....
A rock will remain a regular ol' rock unless and until it's rubbed the right way.
Different grinds of grit produce different results and all are necessary to produce a polished stone.
Change doesn't happen overnight; it comes in due time.
Like rocks tumbled or rough wood sanded, a person changes over time when external forces rub them the right way.
This revelation might not be new to you, but back then, for me, it was revolutionary.
It forever changed the way I viewed difficult people and circumstances.
My perspective realigned to consider what God was trying to teach me (or allowing me to learn) in challenging relationships and situations. Rather than give in to defeat or frustration, I embraced this opportunity to mature in the faith and grow in wisdom. "WHAT did God have for me in THIS?" was the question I found myself asking over and over again. This didn't make the difficulties go away, but it gave purpose to them.
Yes! All working together for good!
I realized that praying for God to change other people (or my circumstances) was tantamount to telling Him I didn't trust Him!
Sobering. Convicting. And motivating to change myself.
To look at Sandpaper People through the eyes of Christ and not my own is nothing short of life changing. But I'd be lying if I told you this is always my first response to difficult people. Even though I believe it to be true and worthy and right, sometimes I still resist seeing others through the lens of Christ.
Can you imagine the difference it would make if we believed God was accomplishing a Kingdom work in the midst of our difficult relationships?
We would discover opportunity to love and pray for the unlovely; maybe not quite an enemy, but those who make life difficult. (Luke 6:27-36)
Obedience to God would propel us toward peace with others (Hebrews 12:14, Romans 12: 18)
What else can you see resulting from believing God is refining you and conforming you to His image through the Sandpaper People in your life?
Do you recognize at least one relationship where you need to recalibrate your thinking? Can you see God working to change YOU or reveal hard truths in the midst of trying relationships? How do you typically respond?
For my good and your good and for the glory of God, would you join me in getting over our collective selves, and beg God to reveal what He wants us to know? Even go so far as to ask for MORE Sandpaper People to Holy rub us the right way? Do we dare?!
By Robin Dance, who would love for you to join her on her 31(ish) Day Adventure in Europe.
:angel: :angel:
The Journey
Oct 11, 2012 01:10 am | Laura Putnam
I have been writing these words in my heart for so long now. I never believed that they were mine to share, but now I feel a tug. As I finally sit down to write, I feel so anxious to get it all out. I am trying to slow my mind, pace it with my heart.
My Faith journey...
When I was a child we went to church every week. But, through a whole host of reasons, it was always a source of stress and resentment for me. As an adult, I stopped going. Twice, early in our marriage my husband and I went to a church, but it never felt right.
We moved to a new state, a new home and then I was pregnant with my first daughter. I asked my husband to start going to church. That was 12 years ago. We are now very active members of our church community. I teach religion to children, I run a committee, we attend most of the social events.
But even with that, something always was a little off for me.
When I first started teaching first grade religion I became very nervous, what if they asked a question and I didn't know the answer? I went through several years of childhood religious teaching, but I felt like I knew nothing. So, I started attending bible studies, learning more about the bible. Learning how to read the bible.
But still something was missing.
2 years ago, I discovered the world of blogs. At first, I was drawn to the decorating blogs. I still do enjoy them, but I found myself more and more being drawn to bloggers who spoke about their Faith. In this crazy world of blogging, I found women who spoke openly about their Faith. About their love for God and their love for Jesus. Speaking this way was natural to them and part of their everyday.
I was envious. In the past, anyone I had ever spoken about religious topics with made me feel very uncomfortable. That was personal and it wasn't shared. Now, I wanted to be able to speak like these women. But I did not know the path to follow.
Last January our church started a 7 week program called Discovery Christ. Not only did I want to participate but my husband did too. It was life changing. I went through a roller coaster of emotions after completing that program. Anger – now that I knew so much more, how could I possibly be all that? Fear – what if He tested me to prove my Faith?
But then my heart let peace start to set in.
Understanding started to take hold.
Now, here I am today wanting to be the one to speak His Truth. To share my journey.
I saw a bumper sticker the other day: "God speaks: are you listening?" Now I understand that this whole time I wasn't listening. Now, I try so hard to hear Him. And He speaks to me. Some days he whispers. Some days He shouts. Some days I close my ears. I am still learning.
I am realizing that I started this blogging journey with the goal of Finding Home, but what I really needed was to be on the path to finding Him. My journey has just begun, but now I realize that I am worthy of his love and maybe even to be a voice for Him.
I am so thankful that my heart is now open to hear Him.
By Laura Putnam, Finding Home
:angel: :angel:
How To Live a First-Hand Kind of Life
Oct 12, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
"...significant figures in the life of faith were fashioned from the same clay as the rest of us...fan clubs encourage second hand living...scripture, however, doesn't play that game. Something very different takes place in the life of faith: each person discovers all the elements of a unique and original adventure...each life is a fresh canvas..." Eugene Peterson, Run with the Horses
I used to morph into other people.
I hid myself behind a series of manufactured lives.
Being someone else, living out all the good and beautiful things I saw in them seemed better than the vision I had of myself. I was immature, never good enough, awkward, and sad. There was this cloud over me that showered me with lies. This "morphing" began when I met her.
I wanted to be vibrant and wise and mature, all of the things I figured I wasn't; all of the things she was.
She was smart and alive and I had never met anyone like her. I hated her, but wanted to be her. For years I fought comparing myself to her.
Years.
I constantly compared myself to her. She was living out every thing I wanted, and seemingly doing it so well. I especially envied her relationship with Jesus. She always seemed so...spiritual. She just loved God and life, and she oozed vibrance. She could share the gospel in fresh ways and her face lit up when she spoke. It hurt, feeling absolutely small in her presence. Insignificant. A waste.
I was second-hand living, which really isn't living at all.
Then there was the change.
I don't remember when or how, but it happened. I chose to be me. Always. Sometimes quieter, sometimes louder, but always, always me. And I never want to live second-hand again.
How To Live a First-Hand Kind of Life
Remember Your Roots
Piece by piece you were put together by the artist of galaxies. You were His idea. And if you know Him, then you are perfect, complete, righteous because of Him. You are in process, and a serious messer-upper (because hey, you have a sin-infested blood line), but He's got you covered. Be all of you, intertwined with Him.
The combo is beautiful.
Purpose to Live the Story of You
I know that woman says the right things. She's funny and smart and man does she seem to have life figured out. She's pretty too. Why can't you just be more like her?
Because, you're you, so forget her story and live your own (tweetable). You've got one and it loves the unfolding. If you struggle with comparison or morphing to be like someone else, purpose today to live out of your story. Purpose to enjoy who you are; give the world, give me, YOU.
Don't Idolize
You, me, her, us, we are made from the same clay. We all have dirt on our heart; we all need Jesus. You don't see behind the screen, the door, or the smile. You see a piece of a grand human puzzle that only God knows intimately. Don't idolize anyone. It hurts them and it hurts you. Remember the clay.
Keep Your Eyes on the Artist
It's easy to look up to someone else, I know. But friend, if you keep your eye on the artist, if you look up to Him and keep your gaze focused, His other works will just be beautiful to you because they are His. You won't need to be the same, you won't need to compare, you can just enjoy the glory of His grand scale of color and texture and DNA and personality.
You can be in awe of the human puzzle He paints.
"You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day."
Psalm 139: 14-16
By Sarah Mae, the one and only
:angel: :angel:
Chapter 7: Stress- Link Up!
Oct 12, 2012 01:05 am | incourage
Wow! We can't believe we've finished with our study of 7. This Chapter on Stress was a perfect way to end, don't you think? Andrea shares a bit about how stress has personally affected her life below, click through to read the rest on her blog. We'd love for you to add your voice to the conversation, too!
Just link up your post on this month's topic below, or share in the comments!
{Via Andrea @ Easily Amused}
I used to think the Sabbath was a day of rest, a day set aside to forgo daily activities for prayer and contemplation and worship. But I believe that Christ's resurrection means I have already entered the Sabbath. Every day is a day devoted to fasting, prayer, and rest. Every day is a day to know peace and Him and live in that confidence. With every moment of my waking and sleeping life, my life is a liturgy of this rest and peace as a devotion to Him. The whole of it is the taking up of my cross and following Him. It is just that I sometimes forget about it not just being for church services, small group, and while reading my Bible.
Jen observes rest with a Sabbath day and 7 pauses for prayer throughout the day. I assumed she would cut 7 activities out of her life for this chapter. No, and what she does do is much more meaningful. This was definitely my favorite chapter. The seven sacred pauses are The Night Watch, The Awakening Hour, The Blessing Hour, The Hour of Illumination, The Wisdom Hour, The Twilight Hour, and The Great Silence. Many great things were said of these pauses. Many. On 195 in such beautiful phrasing, "These are not a yoke of bondage, but breathing spells for the soul. Remember the point. Don't miss the forest for the trees, even if the trees come in rapid succession all day, making them impossible to keep up with; then they conspire against you on the Sabbath like a haunted forest."
click here to continue reading...
:angel: :angel:
How Can we Pray for You?
Oct 13, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
The Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. And we love how this community of women rally around one another in prayer and do just that. This weekend, we'd like to invite you to share a prayer request below, and say a prayer for the person who has left a comment before you.
What are you giving thanks for?
What hard thing are you facing?
How can we pray for you?
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18
:angel:
Four Ways to Make the Most of Your Season
Oct 15, 2012 01:25 am | Sarah Markley
Once upon a time I dared to dream I might write a book someday. By my age I would have book in hand yet here I am, book still unwritten, ideas dry in my brain.
As much as it's continually uncomfortable to be with groups of people who are successful in ways that I would like, I've just come to understand that my "season" isn't now. That has been a hard road.
In October it's easy to recognize the fruits of the season: pumpkins, pumpkin bread and homemade pumpkin spice lattes dominate Pinterest right now. They are the fruits of an autumn in full swing.
But sometimes we still reach for a watermelon in October or a carton of strawberries near Thanksgiving and they don't taste quite the same as they did in the height of summer.
I've struggled against the season in my life for many years. My kids were too young, my life was too busy, my heart was too dry. And my book was {is} unwritten.
Psalms describes the righteous person:
Psalm 1:3 (NIV)
"That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither — whatever they do prospers."
Fruit IN SEASON.
So I don't have to produce giant harvests at all times of the year {or at all stages of my life}? And the small things I do are good things? I read this Psalm earlier this week and I took a deep releasing breath.
I believe God wants us to do great and mighty things for Him and He's called us to listen and obey Him in this. But maybe my own personal tension between feeling like I should be farther along than I am and wanting to be a good steward of what I do have is simply that I'm in a different season. I don't have to struggle against the season that I'm in.
That book? It will be written. In the RIGHT season.
I'm learning four ways to make the most of my season, recognize that the "fruit" I'm bearing is exactly the kind God wants me to bear and that God designed life to run in beautiful seasons and cycles.
1. Stop Comparing
The grass really isn't greener, even if it looks like it is. So yeah, maybe you don't have a crazy awesome book deal or your online shop hasn't taken off like you thought it might. Maybe your toddlers are in a rough stage and you don't even have the time to go to the bathroom by yourself.
It's okay. It really is.
We are each of us designed to be right in the place we are in. Right now. I'm here to tell you that you were built for such a time as this and no other.
Maybe your kiddos are all hard, all the time, but I promise that no family has it as easy as they may seem to have it. Maybe your shop is still gaining ground, or you are still typing hard on that manuscript. Its okay. I promise it is.
Comparison will steal your passion, chase away your joy and kill your soul.
2. Be thankful for the "fruit" you have harvested.
So maybe you haven't gotten as far as you wanted to by 25, 35 or 55. I know I haven't. I dared to dream that I was going to be a real, honest-to-God author by now. But I'm not. However today I have pumpkins and spice, candles and rain-boots, grey skies and warm kitchens. I have beauty gathered in arms full of harvest, it is smiles and hands-held and feet that have traded bare toes for socks because summer is over now.
The fruit in this season is good fruit. It may not be all that I'd dreamed but it is very, very good. I think we are all familiar with how gratitude can change a heart and a soul.
3. Plant the seeds for the next harvest.
If you are worried about the things you must do, or the "fruit" that you want to see the next time around, there are things you can do to begin to work at it. A book does not write itself. A business does not start itself. Jot down the good ideas you have, find a mentor to help you in your project or ask some good friends for specific advice.
A few months ago I wrote a lengthy email to some trusted people in my life asking them for specific advice. It went something like this: If you could run my life (so to speak) what would you have me do about this ____. The answers that came back were varied, insightful and generally amazing. It helped plant some seeds in me for this next season.
And the time you have? Do something purposeful with it.
4. Be okay that sometimes the season is REST.
Repeat this mantra: It's okay to rest.
When we can begin to understand that there ARE in fact seasons of life and now may or may not be your time to accomplish that dream that you thought you'd have done by now then you can take a deep breath. Our anxieties about it all begin to uncoil and we can be okay with the fact that our life is running the course God has chosen and not the one we have chosen.
There even is fruit in seasons of rest: inspiration, rejuvenation, health. Remember that sometimes "producing" means taking a nap or closing our eyes. It even might mean setting the project down for a few weeks or months to get a different perspective on it.
So here I stand. Coffee in hand with a blank paper. Pray for me and I'll pray for you: that you realize your season and you rest in the place God has for you.
How do you make the most of your season? What have you learned in this season?
:angel:
Give Thanks Pumpkin Tutorial
Oct 16, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer
I have many favorite verses and this is one of them. I strive to have this wonderful spirit of rejoicing and thanksgiving.
Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I say strive because it is not always easy. Life offers us a lot of challenges. There are times when it feels nearly impossible to find the good and give thanks. Life can be hard and uncomfortable. It feels impossible in those moments because we are not in control and we do not understand.
His peace passes our understanding. Through faith, we can put our trust in Him and know in everything, there is something praiseworthy. Everything. We can trust Him and thank Him for the experience because we know He is in control and He knows what is best for us.
Only through Him, can we find that contentment.
Autumn can be the beginning of a busy season. And a busy season may bring with it stress and worry and the whole, 'things aren't going as planned' feeling. I think that makes autumn a perfect time to get my thinking and focus on the right track. It is the perfect time to put a little reminder out into our home for the season.
I want and need this reminder. A reminder that I have a choice. I can choose to rejoice and pray and give thanks always. I can choose to rejoice and pray and give thanks without ceasing. I can choose to rejoice and pray and give thanks in everything.
I am making a choice to enjoy life, to live life, to be filled with joy. That is Him in us. That is how He wants us to live.
This give thanks tutorial can be a simple way to bring this wonderful verse into your home.
I started with a collection of pumpkins from yard sales. They were a variety of colors, so I decided to paint them all the same. I used an off white spray paint and then aged them a bit. If you have pretty pumpkins already, you can skip this painting part and just use your already pretty pumpkins!
Outside, I sprayed all the pumpkins with a few light coats of primer. Light coats will dry much easier and won't leave you with big paint drips. A primer helps you use less of the paint color you pick, but you don't have to prime first.
Next, I painted the pumpkins from top to bottom with an off white color. If you like how the stems already look, you can put painters tape over them so they won't be sprayed with the paint.
I painted the stems with green. Then I used brown craft paint to make the pumpkin look a little aged and more real. This is the fun part. At first, it will look like you are doing something wrong and that it is going to look terrible. Don't worry, it won't! Water your brown paint down with just a bit of water. Work in sections and paint in the cracks of the pumpkin.
Then take a paper towel and rub it off. You will see that the deep cracks will keep more of the brown paint. It highlights all those little lines and bumps and spots that make the pumpkin look like it actually grew outside!
Next I took some tan and brown craft paint and lightly painted over the stem. I wanted to still be able to see some of the green underneath, but covered enough so it doesn't look bright green.
Now that the pumpkins are done, or you have your already pretty pumpkins ready, we will add the verse onto some tags. I found my tags in the office supplies, you can also find them with scrapbooking supplies. I have a simple tutorial here, if you want to see how I aged my tags.
I collected my typography stamps and placed the words on each tag to make sure they would fit.
I used black acrylic paint to stamp the letters onto the tags. You can also use ink. You can also write the words yourself with a pen or marker.
I used pieces of twine to hang my tags off the pumpkins. You could also use ribbon or raffia.
You can set the pumpkins up in an autumn display or line them up on a table, a shelf, or a mantle.
A reminder of the choice He wants us to make. Choosing in everything to give thanks!
What is one thing you are choosing to give thanks for today?
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
When It's Hard To Be Happy for Her
Oct 16, 2012 01:10 am | Lisa Whittle
I can't bring my mind to think it, my lips to say it, my heart to admit it.
I am jealous of her.
She is beautiful and smart and together, and most days I feel inadequate...lacking...unkempt.
But envy doesn't become me, and I know this: so for today I will deny the feelings, pull up the megaphone and try to cheer her on.
It is the truth, friends: sometimes, we all get jealous. It starts early, before we even have words to know what the feeling means.
As much as we want to be happy for the one who seems to have everything or get it, it's a struggle; for there is a greater desire within to hear our name called, catch the eye and get the attention.
We are capable of cheering loud for others, but it is in our nature to cheer loudest for ourselves.
Sometimes, in our effort to move past our jealous feelings we decide things about her that we think will help: that we wouldn't make good friends, that she is cold and has secret, shocking flaws that disqualify her from perfection. Our jealousy judges her, unfairly.
We call it shiny words like discernment and determine to wear our own success differently, should we achieve it.
But all the while, it is our soul that needs the tending.
When we let our jealous feelings run amuck, we jeopardize our own potential. We can't live fully when we invest our time and energy in being jealous of her.
It is then...these things, we most need to remember:
Jealousy never produces good in us. It severs, stifles, and kills spirits, starting with ours.
Envy is not really about someone else. At the core, it is about us not being grateful or content with our own life.
Our heart will only become more damaged by pretending our jealousy doesn't exist. We must call it what it is to help it heal.
Jealous feelings often feel out of control. But there are things we can do, today: focus on our own character building, put our head down and pray, continuously.
When we serve, we expand our love. We defy our jealous feelings by serving the person we envy, and we watch how our love for them grows.
We come together as girls when we start by telling the truth about our struggle with comparison and our honest feelings of envy.
We honor the heart of the Father when we celebrate His good work in another.
We cheer each other on best when we first learn to celebrate the beautiful life in our mirror.
:angel: :angel:
Growing {Link-up your Story Post!}
Oct 16, 2012 01:05 am | Angela Nazworth
Earlier this month, I shared about my emergence from a funk. I had realized that if I was going to truly live beyond "going through the motions" and stuffing my emotions, I needed to live more intentionally ... and surround myself with encouraging reminders of God's faithfulness.
I needed to fit more truth into my life ... a life that seemed so crammed with commotion and change. And by being more intentional, as sweet Gianna reminded me, I would once again be "doing life" with God.
I started by adding some physical reminders in my new office space at work.
I hung up this lovely canvas.
I also added some decor and a coffee mug that points me toward the source of joy.
One of my favorite reminders is my (in)courage perpetual calendar that is filled with beautiful messages from my grace-soaked sisters. The first thing I do when I arrive at my desk is flip the page of my calendar and read the message of the day.
All of these little items serve as cheerleaders. They help brighten my days and whisper for me to turn my attention to scripture. I have found that little reminders like these help increase my craving for more of God's Word.
While everything I pointed to as an example is lovely, please know that you can add reminders to your life without actual products ... a Bible verse on a sticky note can be powerful as well. The key is to be intentional about filling your life with true encouragement.
What are some things you do to help you live intentionally?
:angel: :angel:
If you crafters would like to see the pictures that come with these messages go to: (IN)Courage
and enjoy.
I still haven't learned how to post the pictures that come with the message and unless someone teaches me how to do this. I will continue to do as I have been doing.
God bless who reads this.
Judy
For the New Girl In All of Us
Oct 17, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
"Are you sure you want to go?" I asked my daughter again. "You don't have to go."
She nodded confidently but the catch in her voice told me otherwise, "Will you go with me?"
It was three days before my oldest child headed to junior high school and if that's not big enough in our little world, it was a new school in a new town and she didn't know a soul. When we read about the Back to School Band Pool Party at her orientation, we thought it would be a great place to meet new friends before the big day.
So she gathered towel and tote and I pulled up the van to the Natatorium and the little-girl-look on her worried face was enough to send me back to the security of home. Instead I watched her take a deep breath and open the door and take the first step into the unknown. Her hope outweighed her fear.
She sat her things down and got in line for the diving board. I sat in the bleachers and wrung my hands. I watched a big group of laughing girls walk past her without a second glance. She dove in and I prayed. I looked around for other lone moms of possible new girls and tried to work it from that angle.
She swam over to a smaller group and stood there nervously at the edge. I silently begged just one girl to acknowledge my beautiful daughter. She finally made eye contact, gave a half wave and I watched her mouth a shy, "hi." The girls didn't even look up and then they swam away.
She turned, shoulders slumped. And I remembered how it felt to be on the edge.
My eyes filled. I quickly swiped away stupid tears and saw her searching for me in the stands. Her audience of one. With a smile, I silently sent her the look only a mother can give. The kind that said, "I'm proud of you for trying, this will get better, being the new girl is so hard, but you are enough." And I tried to believe my own words.
I didn't want her to see how hard this was for me to watch her live this moment. How could she know I still run away from the new girl in me?
She stood before me shivering and her eyes reflected disappointment instead of hope. I watched her fight tears and I asked, "Do you want to go home?"
She wasn't ready to give up and when she stepped back in the water for the second time, I don't think I've ever been prouder, knowing I would have run.
For another painful 30 minutes she did everything in her power to meet people. No one responded. It was all I could do not to stand up and scream, "SOMEONE, ANYONE, PLEASE SEE ME. I mean, HER. Look at her." And then all the years of junior high and high school and college and first job and church women's groups and blogging conferences, all my own pent-up new girl angst was there with me in the stands.
We left without her meeting one person. We dumped our sorrow into chocolate milkshakes and we talked long into the night.
Even in her disappointment, she kept thanking me for being there, for not leaving her alone. I told her of all my "new girl" experiences, we laughed until we cried. My wise little girl who now stands taller then me, held my hand and said, "Now I know how new kids feel. I'm not sorry I went. I will make friends. It's going to be okay."
"You're never alone," I repeated, trying to imprint it on her soul. But I went to bed crying and praying that her words would come true.
The overwhelming feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing and all the ugly feelings of the proverbial new girl in me resurfaced. I didn't just see in her a younger version of me standing at the edge of the group, I saw me today: the grown woman who still turns down invitations, spends more time alone than with people and constantly wonders if she will ever fit in.
I see my kids desire to blend with the group, be accepted for who they are. I see the same desire in me, even after all the graduations and time passed, it's still there. I always come back to the same answer: Jesus loves me and I am enough just like I am.
I kissed my daughter on the first day of school and sent her off with prayers and the reminder that she is never ever alone. She met another new girl that first day.
Two weeks later, as I sat in the carline waiting for my daughter, I watched her walk out the door laughing with a girl, a friend. I smiled as a couple of texts popped up on my phone from a few (in)courage sisters, "We miss you at the beach! We love you! Wish you were here."
I believed them. I believe Him.
And the new girl in me grew a little smaller, her voice not so loud.
For the "new girl" deep within you:
Tell her to never give up. Encourage her to keep trying. Help her pull down the walls she builds to protect her heart. Remind her she's not alone. Quiet her doubt. Be brave. Lose the self-loathing. Love her. And don't forget to remind her every day to accept His perfect love that casts out fear.
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
The Power of Love
Oct 18, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth
Last month, Emily Freeman encouraged her readers to write a letter to their teenage selves. I participated in the project and also remembered another time in my life when I could have used a letter from the future:
Right after I got married.
Oh, how terribly selfish I was 13 years ago. Truth be known, a me-first streak still dances within my core ... but when I first got married, that streak ran wide, deep and wild. Combined with ridiculously high expectations and the fact that a healthy marriage requires hard work, my self-centered attitude reeled in heaps of confusion, bitterness and regret.
So if I could magically send a letter through the portals of time, here's what I'd write to my young, willful self.
Dear Angela:
You did it. You realized a dream that formed in your heart during girlhood. You got married. Beauty and happiness filled your wedding day. And about that man you promised yourself to ... let's just say you chose well.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. You don't want to admit it ... not to anyone ... not even yourself, but you're thinking it. You're thinking that getting married might have been a big, fat mistake. You're wondering whether you're really "marriage material," because the past six months haven't exactly been a fairytale.
It's not that you don't love your husband. You do. And it's not that you doubt his love for you. You rightfully believe your new spouse adores you. In fact, knowing you are truly the only girl your man has ever loved still renders you breathless. To be someone's first and only romantic love is a gift without price.
But what you don't understand is the power love holds.
I'm not referring to love in its sugary, syrupy form. Don't get me wrong: Having an abundance of passion and romance in a marriage is important. But that type of love isn't enough.
Right now, I am talking about love that's laced with grit and tenacity. The kind of love that is not limited by perception, personal desires or tangible flaws. The kind of love that's a choice and not a mere feeling.
I'm referring to agape love ... God's love. The very same love that conquered the cross on Calvary is the only type of love capable of clobbering the attacks that routinely assault marriages.
So here's what I want you to do the next time you find yourself wondering if your marriage can survive:
Remember those eminent verses from 1 Corinthians. You know the ones I am writing about, because they often are recited at weddings.
Angela, don't just remember the words, live them.
Even when you're exhausted.
Even when you're sick.
Even when you're hurt.
Even when you're angry.
Even when you're lonely.
Even when you're tired of trying ... tired of listening ... tired of hoping.
You need to give love, accept love and live in love.
Here are a few examples of actionable ways to love your husband according to God's word.
Love is patient. Earning his Ph.D. will take more than seven years (I know, sweetie, I know). Encourage him every step of the way. And after he does earn that title ... well, life actually is going to get harder instead of easier. Breathe deeply and don't give up.
Love is kind. Don't allow your fears and feelings of inadequacy swindle you into thinking that it is acceptable to lash out at your husband.
Love does not envy. It does not matter how many of your friends moved into new houses with fancy furniture after their weddings. Don't waste a moment fretting about what you want and what you do not have. Instead, look at that man who pledged his life to you, and thank God for the priceless gift of unconditional love.
Love does not boast. And love is not proud. Love your husband, but don't try to out-love him. Marriage is not a competition. And when you make a mistake, admit it, apologize for it, accept forgiveness and let it go.
Love is not rude. And love is not self-seeking. Respect your husband and appreciate the man God created. And as you implement ideas to honor him and make him feel special, do not do so in the hopes of winning something from him in return.
Love is not easily angered ... it keeps no record of wrongs. Your first apartment together will measure less than 700 square feet. Believe it or not, you'll live in smaller. As you read this, money is tight, and it gets even tighter. You and your husband won't always agree. There will be plenty of opportunities for anger to barge in. Don't allow it to get the upper hand. Ever. And when your husband makes a mistake, accept his apology and bury the mistake in a pit as deep as the one in which you would want your mistakes to reside.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.
In short, love is powerful. So very powerful. Use that power as it was intended to be used. Wield love not like a weapon, but like a healing agent.
You see, when you exchanged promises and rings with the love of your life, you signed up "for better and for worse, as long as you both shall live." And sometimes, there is a whole heap of worse before you see more of the better. But if you hold onto Christ, and love as He commands, your marriage will be draped with grace and blessing.
It won't be easy. Trust me, it will get messy and even downright ugly at times. But it will be worth it. It will be beautiful. And remember, you're not in it alone.
1 Corinthians 13: 1-9 (New American Standard Bible)
If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails; but if there are gifts of prophecy, they will be done away; if there are tongues, they will cease; if there is knowledge, it will be done away.
By: Angela Nazworth
:angel: :angel:
God's Invitation In the Midst Of the Storm
Oct 18, 2012 01:10 am | Dana Butler
Dear Friends,
I find myself lately in one of "those" seasons. You know... when your heart is heavy over circumstances beyond your control... Maybe a relationship is failing; maybe your job is ending; maybe your child is not walking with the Lord.... And to be honest, it feels a little strange to be writing in order to encourage, while my own heart feels this grief so deeply.
Yet, deeper than the aching and louder than the shaking, this truth echoes in my heart: That when we do share, real, raw, and honest in the midst of all the messiness of life and relationships and hearts... the Father comes then and fills our hurting places... these chasms in our hearts... with His glory, His strength that's perfected in our weakness... and His beauty pours forth out of pain.
And so... even with this heaviness of heart that feels so real and so acute lately, I want to share with you these things that I know... these truths that I hold onto, which are even MORE REAL than my earthly reality:
I know that though everything else is shaken, He is never moved. My Father is unchanging, not at all rocked by these storms. I know that He is my Anchor, my Strong Tower, my Shelter.
And when the wind and waves crash all around me, His whisper to my heart is, "Peace, child, be still. Trust Me now."
So, I choose that. Today, I choose to respond to this invitation into peace and trust. I lift my eyes to Heaven, remembering this promise:
"You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You." (Is. 26:3-4, NKJV)
Perfect peace.
He extends this invitation to us all... to me, right now, in the middle of my ache and uncertainty, and to you, whatever your storm.
So, reaching out to take hold of perfect peace, I turn my heart and eyes toward my Father... crying out this prayer from my depths, like a river flowing out of these aching chasms, a fragrant offering rising to His heart: "Father! I believe that You are who You say You are...no matter what!"
Standing with the wind howling in my face and the waves crashing all around me, I scream it out over the storm: "Father, YOU ARE GOOD, and YOUR MERCY ENDURES FOREVER. You are GOOD, Father! You ARE!!
Your mercies are new today for me, and they sustain me through this moment...and the next...and the next.
I MAGNIFY YOU, exalt You OVER my circumstances. I fix my attention on You alone, and Your faithfulness fills my eyes until YOU are all I see.
I worship You, Lord... I place my hope in You... no matter what. I trust You, God. I trust Your heart toward me."
And suddenly... the tangible, overwhelming reality of this verse floods my heart, and I'm undone again by His tender love:
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit. (Psalm 34:18 NIV)
And His invitation to us in the midst of all this shaking is to encounter Him deeply in the secret place....And in it all, what He's after is our hearts, that we would be wholly surrendered to His love.
I've found that in seasons like these, the sweetest intimacy with Him is found in the shadow of His wings... And I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Oh, my friends... May our hearts hear and respond to His invitations today, in the midst of our storms...whatever they look like.
Father, we hope in You, look to you, run into You, worship You... and we trust You to encounter us more deeply than we ever dreamed possible.
By: Dana Butler, Moments and Invitations
:angel: :angel:
How do you know when you've done enough?
Oct 19, 2012 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
We sit around a table at a local restaurant. My friends and I are sharing a dessert sampler {yum!}. The topic of conversation is guilt–but it's not because of the sugar this time.
Nope, we're talking about the guilt we feel in our everyday lives. The guilt it seems all women feel at one time or another.
Mine comes in a particular form, with a flavor as distinct as the slice of pie staring up at me from my plate. I tend to feel like what I do is never enough. I tell myself, "I'll rest when it's all done." But it's never all done.
My friends lean in gently, "Holley, you're a dreamer. You're always going to think of more than you can actually do."
I almost drop my spoon on the floor. Because that's it. Exactly it.
After that sentence it seems another comes to my heart from the One Who Loves Me...
"And I don't expect you to."
I lean back in my chair with a happy sigh. The guilt slides off my shoulders and slinks off to a corner somewhere.
Of course! We don't need to do everything we can think of to do. That would be called "works." We only need to say "yes" to what God asks of us, which is often far less than we imagine.
We do what we can and then we rest in grace.
This is the way we're meant to live.
I smile at my friends and tell them I feel grateful enough to give them the last piece of dessert on my plate.
Almost.
– Holley Gerth, {e}coach
:angel:
Not Just Hands And Feet
Oct 20, 2012 01:20 am | Deidra
I went to Haiti and it was beautiful. Haiti is beautiful. Haitians are beautiful. I would have to be blind to come away from Haiti without thinking it is absolutely stunning.
Two days before my trip, I went to Scheel's and bought a pair of Keens for my journey and then I came home and sat on my couch and cried. My shoulders shook and I didn't know it was possible to have so much stuff in my head. I called my husband and I couldn't get any words out except, "I'm going to Haiti," and he rode his bike home in record time.
We went to the grocery store, and to the bank, and we went to dinner, and the tears wouldn't stop running down my cheeks, even though I tried to hold them back.
I went to church on Sunday and they wrote down my name when it was time to pray, and the next day I zipped up my backpack and caught a flight to Haiti. I don't know how we get outside our comfort zone without the prayers of people who love us.
In Haiti, two years after the earthquake that shook Haiti (and much of the rest of the world) to its core, I sat in a makeshift school, on the fringe of Tent City and someone asked the Pastor how the earthquake had broken Haiti. "Haiti was already broken," the Pastor answered. "The earthquake just made it naked."
And later, when I walked tiny walkways where 20,000 people still live between tiny patches of dirt, sectioned off by walls of fabric or cardboard; where all the air smelled like human waste and people call it "Rape City" under their breath; I felt like we're all naked together and how in the world is this going on just two hours off the coast of Florida?
Together, we sat beneath the blue and white stripes of the tent that serves as a place of worship and I didn't recognize the significance until Bret Raymond reminded us the story of the Exodus is a story of a people, immensely loved by God, living in tents between what was and what will be.
We stood with the rest when the music swelled in the heat that smothered. Men and women raised their arms and hands in worship and their voices drowned out the sounds of the generator that hummed to keep the fans running and lights burning. I don't speak Creole, and the French I took in eighth grade hasn't served me well. But I didn't need to know the language to know "How Great Thou Art" right here in the middle of Tent City.
It's been one week since my return, and now I know those tears I cried before I went to Haiti weren't mine alone. Now I know, in the same way we can be the hands and feet of Jesus, we can also share His tears.
I don't know what you've heard about Haiti. I don't know what you've seen, or what you may have thought. But Haiti is beautiful. Haitians are beautiful. I would have to be blind to come away from Haiti without thinking it is absolutely stunning.
I saw Jesus everywhere I looked.
The people of Haiti are strong. They have suffered greatly. They carry tragedy in their hearts and there is no denying it. Denying it would be an insult. But God has His eye on Haiti. God walks the dirt floors there.
In the airport on that final day, Lamar Stockton looked at our weary team, overcome with emotion, and information, and anticipation of what it would be like to live our regular lives now that Haiti had made its way into our pores. Lamar has made this trip before, and he leaned forward and looked right at us all. "Don't be ashamed," he said, "of the house you live in, the food in your refrigerator, the nice things you have. God has you where you are for a reason. Don't take that lightly."
You and I? We have the resources to help at least one.
I went to Haiti with a team of bloggers, writing for Help One Now. Do you know Help One Now? You seriously need to put them on your radar. You need to know Chris Marlow. I don't know how else to tell you other than to say that you should follow him, and pray for him, and cheer for him and for the amazing Help One Now team. I cannot tell you how proud I was to walk the roads of Haiti and watch people hug him and pat his shoulder and look him in the eye and say, "You keep coming back."
There may not be a greater gift than to keep coming back.
Someone else you should know? Mike Rusch, Bret Raymond, and the team at Pure Charity. These men. This organization. Wow. Just, wow. Vision. Passion. Integrity. Humility. Pure Charity joined us in Haiti, and helped to make the trip possible. You know how sometimes you just know you're witnessing greatness? Yes. That is Pure Charity. Follow them. Pray for them. Cheer for them. Open a Pure Charity account. They are the real deal.
Together, Help One Now, Pure Charity, and the the Help One Now bloggers are working on a project that will leave a legacy in Haiti. You'll be able to help, and your help will have a lasting impact in Haiti, for good. We'll tell you more in the weeks ahead. In the meantime, we covet your prayers.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Oct 21, 2012 12:00 am | incourage
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
Psalm 139: 7-12
:angel:
When I Want To Be Mean
Oct 22, 2012 01:20 am | Lysa
I looked at the text message in complete disbelief. Why couldn't this person see how insensitive and hurtful they were being?
I don't know who made up the saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can't ever hurt me." Either they had nerves of steel or they lived on a deserted island with no other people. Because not only do words hurt me, but they make me want to fight back and be mean, too.
Have you ever had a little situation with someone where you just knew you were right and they were wrong? Or at least you could make a really good case for your side of things?
Oh how I have this burning need to state my case in these kinds of situations. It's like an inner attorney rises up desperate to defend my rights and get the other person to see things my way. This is pretty normal, right?
Yes. But normal doesn't always mean good. Especially in light of today's key verse.
Colossians 2:6-7 reminds me, "So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness." (NIV 1984)
I should live rooted in Jesus' teaching and overflow with thankfulness. The opposite of this is when I'm rooted in self-centered opinions and overflowing with grumbling. I need to let God show me how to see things from this other person's side and gain a different perspective. In doing so, I will be strengthened and taught.
Colossians 3:12-14 reminds me, "... as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." (NIV 1984)
My job isn't to fix this person or make them see my side of things. My job is to obey God by offering an extension of the forgiveness I've been given. But I can also stay healthy in this situation by remembering forgiveness doesn't mean giving this person access in my life that sets me up for destructive patterns.
Finally, Colossians 3:17 reminds me, "And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord, giving thanks to God the Father through him." (NIV 1984)
Everything I do and say tells a story of who I serve. If I act out of anger and spite, I give in to the ways of the enemy, spreading his darkness. If I honor the Lord with my actions, I serve to further the Name of Jesus and spread His light.
At the end of the day, honoring God leads to good things. Anything else leads to confusion, emotional exhaustion and a lack of good things.
I processed the text message mentioned above with my husband. He said something that brought much clarity. "Lysa, you know when you've taken the high road, God blesses you. You've seen these blessings over and over as you've made choices that honor God. So choose a blessing today and save yourself the emotional turmoil of trying to prove you're right."
He's a smart man.
I know this isn't easy stuff. I'm having to live it in the midst of feeling hurt. But I'm also feeling more at peace being able to see another perspective—a healthier perspective—a biblical perspective. And I'm really excited about the blessings that are surely coming my way.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Whether right or wrong, learning to control our reactions is sometimes difficult. In Lysa's new book, Unglued, she shares personal experience and scriptural wisdom to help us make healthy decisions with our reactions. Click here to order your copy today!
:angel: :angel:
He Kept Me.
Oct 23, 2012 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I listened to my friend Christy talk last week about how she needed God to pull through for her before she stood and spoke before a crowd of Christian women leaders.
She talked of how she paced her hotel room the night before, begging God to release the words He wanted her to say. She retold of her late night and early morning, all standing right before God and waiting on Him to direct her talk.
With three minutes to go before soundcheck, it was finished. The whole talk, delivered and refined with mere minutes to spare.
"He kept me in the waiting," she said, "so I would depend on Him, not myself."
. . . . .
That phrase – "He kept me in the waiting" – won't leave my head.
If you want me to get real honest, like I'm-glad-you-can't-see-my-face honest, one of the hardest parts about being a single Christian woman is that I know God has the power to change my situation. I know He does. I think if He can part the Red Sea He can lead a boy to like it and put a ring on it.
But for some reason, He keeps me in the waiting.
In Isaiah 30:18, it says that God is waiting too- that He longs to be gracious to us. Beth Moore says, "If God is waiting and longing too, just like you, then it will all be worth waiting for."
I'm trying to believe her.
. . . . .
"He kept me in the waiting."
There's two ways this phrase hits me. The one, mentioned above, makes me think of someone keeping a prisoner in a jail cell or keeping a dog on a leash. To hold back. To keep someone from something is to put your hand square on their chest and say, "stay right here." Usually for their good, I know.
But there's another way to be kept, too.
Like to be kept close, maybe like you keep your baby wrapped tightly in your arms.
When I was hurt, wanting to run away, He held me close. He kept me when He could have let me go. He kept me.
He kept me in the waiting.
He holds me as we wait. He holds me close, so I don't feel alone. We wait, together.
And I am grateful.
. . . . .
He holds me still and he still holds me.
God kept me in the waiting. And while I am waiting, He keeps me.
He holds me back and He holds me close.
He keeps me from running ahead of His plan and His plan is to keep me near to His heart.
It all feels better when I think about Him waiting with me, arms wrapped tightly around me, whispering something in His Father voice about how the wait will be worth it, how He is here, and how He won't let me go.
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel: :angel:
Citizens Of A Place We've Never Been
Oct 23, 2012 01:10 am | Christine Wright
The setting was post-World War II Romania. The enemy had come to stay and life was a daily struggle of acceptance. Acceptance of what life had become. Acceptance of the cup given, certainly not asked for.
Death, destruction, loss. Words that became part of daily existence. Despite the tremendous scars, life moved on.
It has a way of doing that, doesn't it?
There, in the midst, was a seventeen year old girl, growing in the post-war bleakness.
My mom.
In the days before the country was locked down, and freedom no longer an option, her father had made many trips across the sea and home again. In a day when such trips were truly journeys, taken on freight-loaded ships, he traveled to the United States for business.
One such trip would prove to change the route their lives would take. Clearly led by our all-knowing Creator, he decided to become a citizen of the United States.
It was a life altering decision, not just for them, but for all the generations that would follow.
My mother, knowing she was born to a U.S. citizen and therefore a citizen of the U.S. herself, really had no understanding of the depth of this truth. It was accepted by her, but she was unable to fully process it.
Having never seen the abundant land that lay beyond her pain, it would be understandable she would doubt.
That would change the day her dad said it was time.
Time to leave the bleak and repressed for a land of possibilities.
They were allowing no one to leave the country, it mattered not a bit if you were a U.S. citizen (it was hard to find anyone to listen to and believe your case even if you were). Her father had found a way but it had to be fast and she had to go alone. Despite having no believable proof of her citizenship, God lined up a monumental series of events, and her life changed.
Within days, she would be saying goodbye to her country forever, and on a ship, alone, at 17, headed to a life she didn't know, in a country she knew little of.
Certain of only one thing because her father told her she was a citizen.
There was no time to be afraid. This was an opportunity. In that land, at that time, those were rare.
How often are we told about that far off land we're citizens of?
We've never seen heaven, but it sounds nice. Tough to imagine though, when we're surrounded by the dreary of this world.
I think about my mom and I bet it's a similar feeling. You want to believe, but really, could it be true? Like her, we have no proof, no card showing our citizenship. We have to rely on what is told to us. On stories we hear.
On what our heart knows to be true.
This is no time for fear for us either. Every day it seems we come up against something else. Our landscape can be pretty dark at times, too. How often do we doubt?
God is moving though. Many times He stands, ready to change not just your life, but those of the generations after you.
Mark Batterson says it well in his book, In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day,
"The genealogy of blessing always traces back to God-ordained risks."
Could He be readying your opportunity?
It's up to you.
He's waiting for you to believe in your citizenship.
"But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ," Philippians 3:20 (NIV)
:angel: :angel:
Oct 22, 2012 11:12 am | incourage
Last week, we invited you to ask Jen Hatmaker any questions that you have about her book, 7. She answered several of your questions below!
How have you and your family maintained the habits formed during the course of "7″? Are there some changes that were just not realistic to maintain, are there others that have stuck and are totally worth committing to?
Great question, and several people asked a version of it. So many 7 habits morphed into lifestyle. Obviously, 7 was done in the spirit of a fast, and a fast is never permanent, but it does pave the way for permanent elements. Food for us has remained reformed. (Except when it isn't.) I shop and buy and cook primarily with whole foods, usually organic. I can never think about food the same. It has been almost three years, and I've barely replaced any clothes I gave away. (Not true for my kids, but we've heavily leaned on hand-me-downs and thrift as they mutantly outgrow everything constantly.) Spending and possessions have been deeply affected by 7; my brain refuses complacency here anymore. It's like a light switched on, and now I can't freaking turn it off. And we are still FULL recyclers, gardeners, composters, Flex-fuelers, and conservers. I am most frustrated with the lack of permanent reforms with media consumption and stress. These two areas slip into entropy so easily. The practice of rest and the discipline of being present remain extremely difficult, and for that I grieve. I even know what to do, but I choose not to. Typing that out is renewing my resolve this very second.
There is a popular speaker that uses great steward principles to get people out of debt and build wealth. Although, he stresses to give once you get to that step, I have been trying to wrap my brain around that concept. I read about how Katie Davis doesn't worry about her 'retirement fund' :) or Francis Chan talks about how treating his possessions like 'the game of hot potato' and I am trying to wrap my brain out this idea of wealth building. I believe sometimes we (personally) have been called to give sacrificial...Do you have any thoughts on this?
This is a difficult subject, and one that will alienate someone any way I answer it, so I'll just try to be honest and gracious. On one hand, there is simply wisdom in living debt-free, within our means, simply, and with a cushion. I fully affirm these tenets of this approach. On the other hand, I find the hoarding of wealth, "live like no one else now so you can live like no one else later," challenged by the gospel. Jesus told "The Parable of the Rich Fool" about a man who amassed so much surplus, that he tore down his old barns to build bigger ones to hold all the grain he couldn't even consume. He told himself, "Take life easy; eat, drink, and be merry!" (Luke 12). To this, Jesus rebuked his foolishness. With such a global disparity in wealth, I'm not sure the rich hoarding their riches is a prophetic response to the kingdom. Our dollars are powerful; they can help the extremely poor find footing on the bottom rung of the economic ladder. Am I okay turning a blind eye to extreme poverty so my life can be more secure and extravagant than it already is? At the end of my life, what story did God tell with the wealth He entrusted me with? What I cannot do is discern this for anyone else, nor do I want to. I have enough hypocrisy in my own life to address before I can possibly make commentary on anyone else.
As a writer and after your experiences with the adoptions and this recent trip to Haiti is there anything you would add to the book? Or that you would re-instate to your lifestyle?
If I could add to 7 now, I'd add a fast on my complacency. I'm not sure what that would look like exactly, but a structured month on serving, investing in my city, connecting with my neighbors, living on mission with my faith community...this could be powerful. I wish I would've used 7 as a tangible tool to turn outward and serve. Even if it would feel contrived (as much of this did at first), I believe powerful relationships could've been formed. Readers ask me all the time: "Where do I start? What do I do? How can I live on mission?" and 7 could've been a better tool in this regard.
My question is how do you move into daily life, without guilt, but embracing the fast and the feast.
Yes. Great question. My worry that 7 would be a guilt-trip was debilitating. It is simply not true or helpful to mire in condemnation here. I believe discipleship in this area is made up of a thousand little moments. There are small, simple ways to constantly stage a mutiny against our own excesses and greed. Most of these are not giant, earth-shattering choices but rather simple, day-by-day decisions that steadily move us closer to God and His agenda and further from our own. The freedom comes in recognizing: THIS COUNTS. The small victories for the kingdom count. The easy choices for non-consumption count. Following those nudges toward people and justice and conservation and love counts. God is for our liberation here; this is one thing I know for sure. What I've found is that over time, over the course of a thousand small choices, our hearts start changing. It's just crazy how God does that. When I was filming a portion of the 7 study with The Council (available in December), my friend Jenny said, "I'm not sure 7 stuck at all." Then as we started talking on camera, discussing the thousand little moments and looking backward in grand, sweeping fashion, recognizing how far we'd actually come, she said, "Oh my gosh. It did!" Sometimes God changes us while we're barely aware of it. He's so sneaky.
Since doing your '7′ experiment, is there anything now that you just can't personally justify doing or buying? What I mean is, do you refuse to buy bottle water, or shop at large department stores, or buy non-organic food, or put regular gasoline in your suburban, or feed your kids fast food? (Just examples, of course). Have you developed any new "non-negotiables" for your family or personal life, since your 7 experiment?
Great question. Let me extend a little grace to everyone here (including myself): hard-core lines in the sand are sometimes necessary, and sometimes they create bondage. I would say I drew some soft-core lines in the sand, and sometimes life just happens and we eat Chick-Fil-A and Cheetos and buy shoes at Walmart because our six-year-old daughter tells us as we are pulling into a playdate that she didn't put any shoes on and we're 40 minutes from home. My rules are "for the most part." For the most part, we don't buy bottled water or use a bunch of disposable plastic stuff, we have limits around media and try to protect Sunday. We don't shop for sport, which helps us not spend. (Thank you for not asking me about restaurants. Ahem.) Well, we did draw hardcore lines around products we know were made through slave and child labor – chocolate, sugar, coffee, certain brands. For the most part, we try to live with integrity after 7, and when we don't, we dust ourselves off and carry on.
Did you lose anyone along the way? Did you have someone you respected, loved, thought you were in this journey with for the long haul that has decided this type of authentic-ness was too much?
Bless it. I'm sure I have, but I don't know who. Lucky for me, I tricked my best friends into becoming The Council, so the inner circle was tight. We also run in a faith pack that goes against the grain a bit in this department. That said, without question people have distanced themselves from me, or at least from the message of 7. Why wouldn't they? I totally get it. I've gotten plenty of proverbial pats on the head here, good for you and godspeed, bye. Let's be honest, this is difficult material. Who wants to be confronted on excess? The key is walking your own story with grace. If people are put off by their own guilt or defensiveness, that's on them. But if they are offended by our aggressiveness or judgment or presentation, that's on us. We need not be the Holy Spirit in anyone else's life. He's doing a fine job already. But even in a gracious personal response, some people will simply find offense, because the subject is too close, the content too threatening. Staging a mutiny against American indulgence isn't going to win many fans. However, the defectors are out there; you wouldn't believe the response to 7, a little project I ASSURED The Council no one, absolutely no one would want to duplicate. I laughed in their faces when they mentioned it. Point: The Council.
How do you balance purchasing organic / local / made in America items versus the higher cost of those items? We want to be eating and purchasing the quality items but what I spend on them in a month (not even in excess) is what someone in a third world country could live on for a year.
Agreed. I honestly found a balance, because though organic and Fair Trade is more costly, I also quit buying a bunch of other garbage (and some I continue to purchase, because, you know, FOR THE MOST PART). I find "Made in America" not so cost-prohibitive at places like Old Navy and several Target brands. And again, if we buy in equal quantity as we ever have but with high-integrity brands, we might go into the poorhouse. This is where "lower consumption" comes into play. Buy less, buy better.
How do you stay humble or walk in humility? These life steps, heart values, mission statements look different for everyone so how do you stay in relationships with those who have a different set than yours?
Oh my. I walk in humility because I am fully, totally, absolutely aware of how far I have to go. I am under no delusions here. I have readers praising 7 who are light-years ahead of me in obedience and lifestyle. I still struggle and fail constantly in every area. It's all terribly humbling. When I have a reader living on the mission field in Guatemala tell me 7 has convicted her of selfishness, I could crawl under a rock. I am a sister on the same journey, struggling, trying, wanting to do more than I am, praying. This is my honest answer. I do not turn a critical eye outward. How could I? I try to give as much grace as I need, which is enormous. It is certainly helpful that my faith community holds such similar values, so my immediate people are encouraging, not discouraging. I am inspired by my community. I really do understand that God is leading us all uniquely, which is why 7 is not a set of rules or a template. In summary, failure keeps me humble, and evidently I am not in short supply; grace keeps me humble, because I've been given so much; God keeps me humble, because He constantly reminds me that He is God and I'm not and that's the end of that conversation.
How do you live with the push-back from traditional churches/evangelicals/American Cultural Christianity in regards to creation care and social activism (or is this even an issue)? Do you feel any need to "self-censor" within particular segments and fight the good fight silently?
I believe my "self-censor" button is broken. And oh my, do I ever get pushback. Peruse my blog comment feed for a sampling. I receive very little criticism on creation care, which is terribly encouraging and hopeful for the future of evangelical participation here. But in terms of social activism and economic restraint and generosity and calling people upward...no one likes a prophet. I'm no stranger to a cold cup of water poured on many a flame I've lit, even from well-meaning Christians who are basically like GAH, can't you just let it be??? Challenging people with much to lose, including myself, is brutal. I applaud my sisters and brothers who are fighting the good fight quietly, in their own hearts and spaces. This counts and matters. As for me, God has not called me to silence, a decision I've questioned him on numerous times. Sometimes I hate it. Lots of times others hate it. But this is my lot, so I have no choice. God has been gracious to me, for my skin continues to thicken (this from a people pleaser...only He could pull this off). I say the same prayer every morning: "God, help me be brave." On the other hand, the groundswell from believers hungry to defect from the American Dream, bursting to live a bigger story, is so GIANT, that encouragement and strength is renewed for me every single solitary day. So many of us are swimming in the same river. God is doing something monumental, and even to be the tiniest little miniscule part of it is thrilling. Every day, I'm standing on my couch, applauding my sisters and brothers in Christ obeying, sacrificing, moving, giving, sharing, and suffering with those who suffer. I am indeed surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.
What about your books? Did you purge? Reduce? Leave untouched? I don't WANT to part with any ...
Purged literally hundreds of books. Cried a little. Replaced a bunch. Purged again just this summer. Another hundred. Still buying more. I am wondering if I will simply remain unsanctified in this department. HELP ME, BABY JESUS.
***
We would like to say an extra special THANK YOU to Jen Hatmaker for joining us on Bloom. If you enjoyed participating in this study, would you let her know? You can find Jen at her blog, on Twitter, and Facebook.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Issues with Stuff
Oct 24, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
This year I set aside time to reorganize our life at home. We needed to get rid of what we didn't need, pretty up some spaces that felt neglected or underused, and create a pleasant place for our family to recharge.
So often we feel the need to simplify or pare down when stuff is taking over our life. Stuff doesn't matter. Experiences are more important. Family is important. Our relationship with God is important. You can't take your stuff to heaven. All true. What we have around us every day DOES affect us in this life, but it may impact all of us in different ways. Stuff might be a controversial subject, but not all stuff is bad for us.
My last home was a beautiful 4700 English Tudor fixer upper. And while I loved many things about it, like my remodeled kitchen and original plaster walls and wood work, the house itself caused me anxiety, especially when my husband lost his job. The house was too big for us to maintain. Too expensive for us to heat. Too much work for us to do as unskilled DIY'ers with little time for projects. It was beyond our means and it felt like we were one house repair or cold winter away from financial disaster. Too much stuff we couldn't keep up with, so we downsized our house and our stuff by half.
Being surrounded by the wrong stuff can zap our time, energy, resources and focus away from what matters. When we have stuff we don't need, we can get bogged down in reorganizing junk we don't care about, dusting meaningless trinkets and hiding excess in the garage or under the bed because we might want it someday.
When we obsess over stuff we can't afford, we spend too much time worrying about how to get what we want in life or being deprived of what we can't have, and less time on simply caring about others.
Too much of the wrong stuff will stifle our potential and limit our time or energy for service. Less of the wrong stuff can free us up to do more good stuff. Are you still with me? Some people clearly have too much stuff, considering how many in this world have too little.
But does that mean the stuff itself is wrong? Or is it only wrong to surround ourselves with the wrong stuff for the wrong reasons?
The right stuff, stuff with meaning, purpose or intention, stuff we can afford to enjoy or share with others, or stuff that is pleasing or appropriate in our life can energize us. It can refresh us to have the right stuff for the right job for the right life and right reasons. God provides beautiful things for our enjoyment.
Stuff can be good.
Minimal stuff might be some people's thing, it might be what energizes them and frees them to use their life as God intended, just as a pretty well-kept room alive with the right balance of pattern, color, fresh flowers and piles of well-loved books might be my thing.
If you've been addicted to stuff or coveting things you don't have, less will probably be more for you. We need to know our own heart and deal with our stuff in a way that is pleasing to God.
The beautiful things I enjoy having around me aren't my "everything" or an idol, but they do serve a good and worthwhile purpose in this season of our life. Having the right stuff puts a spring in my step and brings a smile to my face, but the wrong stuff consumes me.
Most importantly, a good balance of the right stuff doesn't distract us from what God is doing in or through our life, they are a part of his blessing and plan for us right now. When we have that balance, we feel peace in knowing we are where God wants us for this season and we can be content right there.
I have a really hard time with even the good stuff on Pinterest. I enjoy Pinterest in moderation, but seeing too much stuff on a regular basis drains my own creativity and zaps my energy. Seeing 25 More Ways to Decorate a Pumpkin flashing before my eyes yet again sends me over the edge. I can only handle so much STUFF all the time.
Clearly, I have issues. Too little stuff disappoints my creative eye. Too much stuff I don't need stifles my creative potential, weighs me down and distracts me. I need a carefully chosen and well-balanced diet of the right stuff, and that is what this year has been about for me. Finding that healthy balance so I can invest myself in stuff that really matters.
Do you have issues with stuff? Do you have too much stuff you don't want? The wrong stuff? The right stuff? How does stuff energize or drain you? And how does your stuff impact God's purpose in your life right now, in this season?
How many times did I fit the word stuff into this post? Stuff to ponder.
Join me in my adventures to create a home at The Inspired Room.
:angel:
Resting Through the Fog That Won't Go Away
Oct 25, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
I lay down to sleep at night.
And I don't know what awaits me.
Will it be restful sleep?
Or will it be minutes ticking away that melt into the next hour?
I wake up in the morning.
Is it going to a day filled with energy — to start new beginnings and break off old ways?
Or will the day be one lived in obedience — to faithfully get up and surrender to whatever the next hour brings me?
I don't know what each day will bring.
This is what the journey of faith looks like when you're traveling through the thick of it.
These are the days of walking through the fog of everyday life trials –
when change isn't coming any faster than you'd like it,
when the challenge that's pressing in on you intensifies.
You try to ignore it. Try to make yourself stronger so it will pass.
But, it's not going away.
This is the fog from which I'm walking through and writing to you today.
The Fog
It's not always talked about, but the faith journey is like walking through a fog, thick as it rolls over the mountains, onto the trail you're hiking through. Maybe you've driven through the mist at night, as you're looking for that exit — or found it clinging to your windshield early in the dawn, as you begin a long road trip on a cold autumn day.
It happens. When you start out with the most hopeful intentions on a new journey — whether you're looking for an exit from a difficult situation — or maybe just caught in between unexpected changes.
It dawns on you.
Life is going to be different. For you. Or your family, friend, or child.
Maybe it's your health, your job, a relationship or a hope deferred.
For me, it's been a mixture of all four.
The fog can do that. It can suddenly bring thoughts and feelings that you've often wanted to just move through. Instead, you find yourself returning to questions and circumstances that settle down around your mind and heart, like fragments of tea leaves that circle to the bottom of your cup. No matter how carefully you sipped or sieved.
And maybe like me, you begin to wonder...
When will this fog lift?
And how long will God let it stay?
Raw
This fog I've been walking through has a peculiar name.
Healing.
It happens when we're willing to honestly look at the truth of what we're experiencing — and give ourselves permission to allow God to enter into it.
To stay there with Him.
Raw.
As we are.
It's been a very difficult and hard road of healing for me. Because I want healing to happen on my timetable.
Now.
I read Scripture and remember only the instant miracles. And I wonder why I can't receive them too.
But old wounds and old memories that have never given me any problems suddenly ignited into real anxieties and current day fears. It seems so wasteful. All this time spent going through trauma I had long left behind me. Why in the world would God choose to bring them up now, when I've gotten along fine all along?
Healing is oh-so-inconvenient.
Honestly, friends. Don't you think?
But, it turns out when you unlock your dreams and dare your heart to open, our soul isn't a maze of rooms that we can compartmentalize.
Yes, Lord Jesus. Open up this part of my heart. This I can share! No, Lord Jesus. Keep this other part shut. Who would want to open that door?!
God's not moving me any faster through the uncertainty. So like a true engineer, I've been trying to trouble shoot what it is that's keeping God's healing from accelerating in my life.
What is that I'm not doing enough of — or am I doing wrong?
Is there something broken with my faith — or it not enough faith?
I've been looking for answers, but God painted a picture for me instead.
Patches
It happened one morning last weekend, when I least expected an answer. My son TJ had Sunday School "homework" and I was reading a passage in the Old Testament with him.
I hadn't slept well at all the night before. And I was surely walking around that morning toasting bagels and pouring milk for the boys in a fog.
As I read the verses in auto-pilot mode, I was taken to a desert, where the people of Israel for sure felt stranded.
"Now on the day that the tabernacle was erected,the cloud covered the tabernacle.
Whenever the cloud was lifted from over the tent, afterward the sons of Israel would then set out;
and in the place where the cloud settled down, there the sons of Israel would camp....
As long as the cloud settled over the tabernacle, they remained camped.
Even when the cloud lingered over the tabernacle for many days, the sons of Israel would keep the LORD'S charge and not set out...
If sometimes the cloud remained from evening until morning, when the cloud was lifted in the morning, they would move out;
or if it remained in the day time and at night, whenever the cloud was lifted, they would set out.
Whether it was two days or a month or a year that the cloud lingered over the tabernacle,
staying above it,
the sons of Israel remained camped and did not set out;
but when it was lifted, they did set out."
Numbers 9:15-22
A cloud.
It kinda looked more like fog to me.
Yes, Bonnie.
I know about the fog.
I'm with you — in this fog.
Then, I knew. Down in my gut, where my stomach drew a breath and my heart started beating, as I took the Bible from TJs hands and told him, "Mommy wants to read this for a minute."
And I read and re-read the passage. Scanning it line by line.
I understood what God was saying to me, as I saw the cloud over the tabernacle of my heart cover and lift — some times lifting for a moment at night, some times lifting for longer stretches during the day. Some days are good and some days are very bad.
I am not in control of this fog.
God is.
He alone decides –
how long this fog will stay,
when it will lift,
when it will descend once again.
Healing comes in patches, my friends. I am understanding this is how God wants me to walk with Jesus. A patch of fog lifting at a time. Not knowing how long He's going to have me stay where I'm at. Not knowing when He'll be calling me to start out again.
My Heart, His Home
Sometimes, God lifts the fog longer than other times. And on those days, I understand far more than I had in the days before. And I move. As long as I keep moving whenever the fog lifts, I am keeping life with Jesus. And on the days the fog lingers, I stay. This too, is living life with Jesus.
I was greatly comforted — as a smile broke out under my baggy eyes — God's presence has covered this tabernacle residing in my heart.
God's presence is eternally strong, never broken in me, because He's sealed me with His Holy Spirit.
My heart is His home.
I will keep camping, as hard as it is to stay put. But, I will keep looking out for the patches of fog that lift. And when it does, whatever steps He shows me — even if it's just one step — I pray for the courage to step out into the unknown. Even though I am afraid.
This has slowly become my prayer now. Not that the fog will disappear. But, I'm asking for the courage and faith to persevere. Who knows how long this journey will be. Two days, one week, or (grimace) — could it be — one year? Honestly, I can't think that far ahead. I can only take it an hour at a time right now.
As sure as the morning breaks into the noonday sun, this fog will lift. And each day the moon ascends back into the night, and the coolness brings the fog back, I am trusting — that the God behind these cycles that are turning waves, breaking onto the ocean — He remembers and He loves me. This is the thought I rest in. This is the thought that stays.
Stay or Go
Sometimes, God doesn't change the circumstances we find ourselves in, no matter how hard we pray. God is bringing us out to a new clearing in our lives. But, to journey there, we are led to a place where only God knows the way out and we are left with new realities — about how we truly feel and the many questions we wish we could dare to ask.
Is God having you stay where you're at right now?
In the moments when the fog lifts, what does He show you — what does He say?
Even if that one step is brief and seemingly simple, as it has been for me –
doing that load of laundry,
taking that walk, even if briefly,
asking a friend to come hang out for an hour,
calling a friend to just catch up and chat,
enjoying a cup of mint tea that's been sitting on the shelf for a while (and squeezing some honey in it),
taking a long, hot bath and playing some jazz on Pandora after the kids are down,
journaling dark one night about that memory that can't seem to subside,
giving yourself a break and letting the kids eat mac and cheese (again),
closing your eyes during worship on Sunday and letting yourself cry just a little inside,
going back home in the afternoon, to clean out a closet, nap or cry a lot in your bed,
hugging your children and tickling them, just because it's fun to cut loose for awhile,
lying quiet in your bed to think back to the time you swam in a lake or sunbaked in the sand,
lying quiet in your bed and letting this day or this night be as good or as hard as it truly has been.
Don't worry about how long you can sustain or continue that one step.
Give yourself permission to walk on this journey of faith, one hour at a time. One day at a time.
I don't know where the cloud of God's presence has you right now.
But, I want you to know — when the fog just seems to heavy – we are not alone.
We can walk through the fog with each other.
We can walk through the fog with Jesus, friends.
Because He is with us.
Even here.
He is in charge.
We can rest.
~~~~~
"And the Lord said, "My presence shall go with you, and I will give you rest."
Then Moses said to the Lord, "If Your presence does not go with us, do not lead us up from here...
The LORD said to Moses, "I will also do this thing of which you have spoken; for you have found favor in My sight and I have known you by name."
Ex. 33: 14-17
~~~~~
How is God calling you to stay or to go — in your journey of faith?
What picture, words or moments is Jesus calling you to rest in — today?
Take a moment to share. Click to comment. It's always a soul treat to hear you speak.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
Daily Crumbs
Oct 25, 2012 01:10 am | Camryn Zamora
All consuming. Jesus broke bread with His disciples and said, "Do this and remember Me." It wasn't much earlier that Jesus, in teaching on prayer, said, "Give us this day, our daily bread."
And so I ponder these words and the meaning of a last supper comprised of broken bread.
Perhaps the pondering is derived from a meal I'm about to eat – a last meal of sorts.
We set out to do something miraculous – plant a Church in a very messy city. But God seemed to hedge us out of our own dream. We left the City we loved, leaving me to wonder – in the midst of this grandeur destination, had I failed to ask for my daily bread. Did my vision for something wonderful on the horizon, cloud my view of the Wonderful that is ever present.
As I pack boxes with finality, I consider the bread broken over the deep fellowship of 12 lives lived alongside the greatest Dream ever fulfilled. His words didn't echo a feast that would last for years or even a pantry of preservatives to be saved for a distant future. No – His request was for something daily; a living provision that sustains for a single day.
I contemplate the crumbs that I tirelessly swept up as (mess). How often am I looking for a feast while sweeping up the life-giving sustenance that I allowed to crumble all over my floor?
We go through life in search of a destination, and that destination is sometimes disguised by titles like "God's Work," but the reality is – Jesus chose Mary's intimacy over Martha's scurrying. He regarded the moment instead of the matter.
Jesus, He is the destination. Jesus is the moment; He's the daily bread. The journey begins and ends with Him. Our lives are to give preference to the walking alongside Him, instead of us chasing after some "thing," in honor of His name.
And sure, the dreams materialize and He gets the glory – but not if we leave behind a trace of bread crumbs. There is no glory left for Him if we do not consume Him in entirety each and every day.
The church and the ministry, the home and husband, the job and the generous tithing – it means very little to a God so immense that He holds the world together and so charitable that He stoops to feed the sparrow.
We are creatures of the future. The future savings account, the future job, the future family, the future ministry, the future friends. We miss today because we are worried by the tomorrows. Yet the Man of Todays never requested that we ask for tomorrow's portion, but a meal that would feed us for a single day. This is what keeps us trusting – coming back for more – a single day's allotment. This is what keeps us in relationship with the Great Provider.
The savings account empties when we are consumed by daily living. The pulpit hushes when we cry out for a daily taste of His goodness. The family's pressing need of building a future generation takes a knee when we eat freely of just one day's portion.
My eyes scan the city that left me broken, emptied out. And I see all the places where I left bread crumbs – my daily portion discarded like trash.
"Do this in remembrance of Me."
Break the bread. Eat your portion. Daily.
This is the destination. A daily walk in intimacy with the One Who broke His body and became our Daily Bread.
By Camryn Zamora, The Modern 31 Woman
:angel: :angel:
The Myth of the Next House
Oct 26, 2012 01:40 am | The Nester
If an alien came to earth and watched how we use our homes what would they discover from watching us?
Because I'm pretty sure if an alien watched House Hunters on HGTV for a few hours they would deduct that everyone on earth must entertain often, it seems it's all people on that show can talk about. The go on and on about how they are going to entertain in their next house and how they love having people over and this next house is gonna help them do that.
I've realized something about myself and maybe you do it too. I seem to always put the burden on my next house. Because the current house never seems to be ready. It never seems to be quite good enough. It doesn't seem to have the potential that I'm sure my next house will have.
My next house....? That's where the real living is gonna happen.
Compared to your last house, this is your next house.
This post is part of a 31 Day Series called Home. On Purpose. See all the posts here.
:angel:
On Songs of Revelation
Oct 27, 2012 01:20 am | Arianne
It was a late night and all 4 kids were seatbelted in and nearly asleep before we barely began the 20 minute drive home. I knew at least 2, if not more, would be out cold by the time we rolled into our own driveway. I looked through the music playlist to find something that could help those heavy eyelids along a bit further.
"Can you play God songs?" I hear from the backseat.
I smile that happy mama smile that really can't be described and I pick a song. My current favorite. The one my husband and I have been shedding some tears over for a while now.
The notes begin and right away, before a single word is sung, my 8 year old boy whispers to us.
"I really like this one."
How he knows which song it is, I don't know. The words begin to pour out and into me.
Seems like all I could see was the struggle
Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past
Bound up in shackles of all my failures
Wondering how long is this gonna last
Then You look at this prisoner and say to me "son
Stop fighting a fight it's already been won"
My eyes are closed and it's turned into worship and I always have a pain twinge in my heart remembering how long I wish for certain afflictions to end — and then swiftly it's balmed by my remembrance that, truly, the afflictions are not forgotten and they aren't just without end. And He knows. All of it.
It's crazy how a song can give you revelation.
I am redeemed, You set me free
So I'll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, now I'm not who I used to be
I am redeemed, I'm redeemed
All my life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret
But when I hear You whisper, "Child lift up your head"
I remember, oh God, You're not done with me yet
Long ago wounds that have the thickest scar tissue over them seem to soften at the most basic of words that I relate to. I love how God does this work in us.
Because I don't have to be the old man inside of me
'Cause his day is long dead and gone
Because I've got a new name, a new life, I'm not the same
And a hope that will carry me home
I am redeemed, You set me free
So I'll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, 'cause I'm not who I used to be
I do have a new name. And so do you. And you. And you. Has God told you your new name? I have a feeling it might also be Redeemed. Or Whole. Or Loved. Or Beautiful. Or Victorious.
We pull into the drive as the song ends and we all pause. There's a holy hush in the car, and no, it's not just because 2 kids are snoring and we're trying to keep quiet.
The rest of us are lingering there. In that place with God when He holds you just a bit longer. Please let me never stop lingering.
We finally break and begin gathering our things and go into the house and everyone seems to be in this rare mood of reverence.
I tuck them all into bed.
I start the next song.
Do you have a current life-song that's changing your heart (and home) right now? I'd love to hear about it!
***
Lyrics from "Redeemed" by Big Daddy Weave
By Arianne from To Think Is To Create
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Oct 28, 2012 01:20 am | incourage
"You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men.
"You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.
Matthew 5: 13-16
:angel:
Fashion, Make Up, Jesus and Me
Oct 30, 2012 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
As she stretched her arms wide out to her sides, she peered over at me with the reminder, "Now watch me, Mommy. Just watch me."
With her head tilted towards the sky and her tutu arranged just perfectly, she began to twirl. Tentatively, her circle started slowly, but as she embraced the movement, her confidence built. She gazed down, knowing her sequined skirt swished with her, and giggled, "Do I look pretty, Mommy? Do I?"
As I gathered her in my arms, and twirled her around, I melted into the eyes of my precious four year old, fashionista daughter.
She craved beauty. She wanted to know she was beautiful.
"Sweet girl, you are beautiful on the outside, but you know that the beauty that matters most to God is on the inside."
For years, I've prayed that my daughters and I would cultivate inner beauty; that we would radiate the love, joy and kindness that only the Lord can grant. We know that charm is deceitful and beauty is fleeting, yet is there a way to reconcile our desire to don cute new boots and ruby red lipstick with our love for Jesus?
My heart is set on being a woman who whole heartedly pursues the Lord, but as God's girls, are we instructed not to worry about what we wear?
I've dug into the scriptures on this topic, and I can't get past the fact that we were created to enjoy beauty, all kinds of beauty. For me, there are times I even enjoy seemingly trivial things like fashion and make up.
Scripture states we are not to worry about what we will wear, emphasis on "worry." We are not to become engrossed with it. If we are more concerned about the outside, rather than our heart attitude, than we have a problem. Yet I think we have the opportunity to let our outer appearance reflect our inner beauty, and have some fun with fashion, hair and make up.
We are fearfully and wonderfully made just exactly as we are, but do we convey that? Do we carry ourselves in such a way that others would believe that about us?
I'm a sweat shirt and sweat pants kind of girl. I'd be happy to just live in those every lazy day, but as I stay dressed in them, my attitude follows suit. Early in my marriage, I knew I needed to get out of my fashion comfort zone. About four years ago on my blog, I spontaneously shared about my first Red Carpet experience in which I wore completely designer, but thrifted (second hand) fashion. I was dressed fabulously for under $20, standing right next to women who paid thousands for their outfit, and no one was the wiser. Little did I know there was a yearning from women to learn how to dress stylishly, and do it on a budget.
That birthed the on-going Frugal Fashionista series on my blog. For the first year, I struggled with it. It felt uncomfortable. I hated putting pictures of myself on the blog (and still do.) I tried to understand how the Lord was melding my love for encouraging women with my "always a year behind" fashion prowess, but He was.
As I shared seemingly superficial items on Freshening up Ones Wardrobe, Learning how to accessorize, or even my weekly Frugal Fashionista outfits, women became more confident. They began having fun with fashion, while dressing modestly and helping out their family's budget at the same time.
As I think through our mission on (in)courage, it's a home for the heart of women.
Does that allow for talking about both our inner and outer appearance? I think it does. In fact, I know it does.
God cares about every little aspect of our whole women, even down to eye shadow tips.
Last month, when some of the (in)courage girls were at the beach, we started talking about our favorite make up brands. When we got home, this note came through our facebook inbox from one of the beach go-ers,
"Totally vapid question: looking to invest in some decent eye make up....should have written down what you all were using at Hilton Head – remind me/make suggestions will you?"
What followed was one of the liveliest thread of comments we have shared in a long time. Every tip, idea, and favorite product was named. A little cheering section even began with some encouragement to try something new for those that didn't really wear much make up. I cracked up when I read this final comment.
"I can't tell you how helpful this whole eye thread was. I didn't even know I wanted help."
Sometimes being with our girlfriends is like that, isn't it?
I love proclaiming Jesus as Lord. Pouring out our hearts and sharing our struggles openly and honestly makes (in)courage an incredibly special place, but sometimes, Jesus loving girls might just need a little chocolate and some good eye make up tips.
I know it's a delicate balance, yet I can't help but think that one of my heroes, Queen Esther, carried on some very similar discussions with her girl friends before she approached the King.
I sure would love to hear your thoughts on the topic.
Or better yet, if you want to continue the thread of comments from our beach discussion, what is your biggest fashion or make up question/tip? We could all learn from each other.
And I think I just might follow this up later over at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam.
Jen, a mini Frugal Fashionista shares at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, as well as her newly launched food blog, 10 Minute Dinners.
:angel: :angel:
My Chains Aren't Gone (And I Like It That Way)
Oct 30, 2012 01:10 am | Amy
Some days I really just want to be alone.
I love my babies, don't get me wrong; staying at home with my wild and crazy little boys is the delight of my life, and I am glad to do it.
I must be doing a halfway decent job as a mom, because my guys adore me so much that they think they need to be with me every second, even when I go to the bathroom. But every once in a while, it would it be heaven to be able to use the toilet in peace.
And maybe spend a few moments praying or reading my Bible.
All my life I've been taught that the key to growing as a Christian is to spend time alone with God, praying and meditating on Scripture. In Christian circles we usually refer to this as "quiet time."
I think whoever coined that phrase must not have been a parent. Regardless, I rarely get time alone, quiet or otherwise. And I struggled with that for a long time, feeling like I wasn't doing my duty as a Christian.
One day in particular, I had finally gotten a few moments to myself, and was sitting down beside my bed to read and pray. I had no more opened my Bible than I heard my 10-month-old wailing from his crib. Nap time, apparently, was over. And I started to cry.
"I know I asked you for these boys," I lamented to the Lord, "but now I feel chained to them. How am I supposed to grow in you if I never get a break from being a mom?" For days I was in a funk, convinced that parenting was going to be the ruin of me.
Then one morning, God reminded of a simple truth:
Paul had chains, too.
Do you remember them?
Paul was imprisoned over and over for his tenacious preaching that Jesus was the Messiah. When he was in Rome, awaiting his trial before Caesar, he was watched by members of the praetorian guard, Roman troops assigned to the emperor. But these soldiers didn't just stand outside a holding cell, or keep Paul hostage with a weapon. The guards and prisoners were literally chained together.
So Paul knew what it was like to be constantly with others, never alone for a moment. He would have had every right to complain. But he didn't. Do you know what he said about his chains?
"What has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear" (Philippians 1:12-14, emphasis added).
Paul recognized that his chains were an opportunity to serve the Lord. His guardians could not leave, so they were a captive audience for his message of reconciliation to God.
Understanding this has changed my perspective about this season of my life.
I still crave alone time. Adult conversation. Moments away from my boys.
But when I adopt Paul's perspective, the chains become a little easier to bear. My sons are my captive audience. Every day, whether I intend to or not, I am teaching them with my words and my actions.
And at the end of the day, I want to be able to say that "I am in chains for Christ."
By Amy Reasoner, More Than Rubies
Photo by: Steven Depolo
:angel: :angel:
Giving Life to One Another
Nov 01, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
"They're gonna be late!" Chad called from outside. We were still barbequing in October this year. I figured if it's eighty degrees outside we'll just treat everything like summer, including our dinner menu: Tri-tip, green beans and fresh bread.
I walked outside to hear more.
He looked at his phone and saw a message telling him our dinner guests had locked their keys in the house on their way out the door to see us. "I'll just keep the meat warm when it's done cooking," he said. "I was running behind anyway."
In the busy schedules of our families, our friends, who live more than an hour away, were making the trek out here on a school night with their four boys, including a baby, just to see us. This was the only night that worked in any of our schedules.
When they walked in the door a bit later, Susie and I hugged and we thanked them for driving so far to see us. The last time we'd met we had chosen a dinner spot in the middle, so this time it was a labor of love and time for one of our families.
"Oh we love to do it," Susie said after I thanked her for driving so far. "You are some of our life-giving friends."
I agreed that they were the same to us and together we put the finishing touches on an autumnal-summer meal. We gathered the children and ate outside as dusk overtook our yard.
Life-giving.
Refreshing.
Restorative.
As people we can either give life to one another or we can take it. I believe that God created us with that kind of power. We can speak goodness and truth to others or we can speak competition and jealousy. We can act with love and good-nature or we can act with fear and bitterness. We can give one another life or we can take it.
Even with the people we call our "friends" I believe that we can either givers of life or takers.
Life giving people show grace and forgiveness and they love one another. They are grateful for the relationships they have in this season of life. Life giving people feel like family even though last names aren't shared.
Life taking people, however, demand and desire and let hurt and anger fuel their actions. Life taking people let the desire to be the best or the first affect their friendships and they don't own up to the things they've done to hurt others. Being around them feels like a lot of work.
What Susie said made me think about my other friendships. Am I a life-giver or a life-taker with others? What pushes me from the ability to help restore and refresh others to being a person who takes life away?
I know I've been a "taker" before and I hate that I have.
We sat outside long after we should have, past the girls' bedtimes on a Sunday night and let the dishes from ten people pile up in the sink. We laughed and watched the children laugh inside the house as they played games and we were thankful, so very thankful, for friends who help to restore and refresh us.
Do you have life-giving people around you? Have you ever been around people who are life-takers? Have you told your friends they help to give you life?
:angel: :angel:
For Empty Arms and Aching Hearts
Nov 01, 2012 01:10 am | Christie
Five years ago we set out to start our family. Little did we know, as we made that decision with fear in our eyes, how great God's love would be and how deeply we'd need to lean into Him, the One True God.
We tossed out the birth control six months after we got married and expected to be blessed with a bundle of joy, sooner than later.
These five years have given us a front seat on the wildest roller coaster of our lives; month after month of failed pregnancy tests, prayers and pleading for the opportunity to be parents, many days of sobbing on the bathroom floor; and God was there...
After two years of trying to conceive and no baby, we felt the Lord nudging us towards foster care and adoption. In 2010 we took all of the necessary steps towards becoming foster parents. At the end of the year we found ourselves heartbroken at the reality of not being chosen to parent a beautiful two year old little boy. That day we closed the decorated bedroom door and prayed for the Lord to heal our hearts; and He was there...
The New Year brought new hope as we placed our family profile with a private adoption agency. Little did we know that by the end of January, we would be the proud parents of our beautiful Moriah Faith; and God was there...
Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.
Psalm 30:5b
In November of 2011 I went to the doctor for horrible abdominal pain. In that one day, our four years of fervent prayer became a reality and ended in an ectopic pregnancy. The heartache we endured from the loss of our first biological child was a pain unmatched; but God was there...
On Christmas day we decided to move forward with the adoption of Moriah's biological brother who was due to be born in May 2012. We rallied our family and friends from church and we set out to bring our little boy home. We raised every bit of money we needed and were prepared to travel to Florida when we received the call every adoptive parent fears. Our birthmother had the baby and decided to keep him; but God was there...
At the age of 26, I can tell you that the last five years of my life have been the most difficult and most rewarding, ever. I have walked through the infertility and adoption fire and I have come out with a testimony befitting to the One True God.
Friend, I know your pain and I know your sorrow. I know the tears you shed today as the pregnancy test read negative, again. I know the joy you felt today as you held your newly adopted blessing in your arms. I know the literal heartache you felt as the sonogram showed no heartbeat. And, friend, I know the pain you felt today as your birthmother chose to keep the baby you prayed so fervently for.
More importantly, God knows your tears, He knows your heartache, He knows your pain. And He sent his one and only Son to restore it all and to give you hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11)!
Friends, I pray that you know how deeply the Creator of this universe loves and cares for you; today, tomorrow, and always.
In sorrow, in joy, in heartache, and pain. He.is.enough.
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."
Revelation 21:4-5a
By Christie, Satisfaction Through Christ
:angel: :angel:
When You Need A Steady Stream Of Confidence Today
Nov 02, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
"More dreams die by self-inflicted wounds than any other kind. God is for you...and it's time for you to be too."
Holley Gerth, You're Made for a God-Sized Dream
I move quickly towards the bathroom, the only place offering solitude in the whole house. I've managed genuine smiles all day while keeping the tears in, but I can't do it anymore. I'm only walking but I breathe heavy as I shut the bathroom door. I clamp my hand to my mouth but the sobs come fast and hard and there's nothing to do but let 'em go.
"You are completely ridiculous," I say to myself, exasperated. "Get a grip!"
And that's when I hear the quiet knock accompanying a gentle, "Kristen? Are you okay?"
Oh heavens. There's no hiding any longer.
The setting for my meltdown was Hilton Head, the place where I was spending a much-anticipated weekend with writers who've become genuine friends. Generally, I am very comfortable around other women, even women I don't know. I move eager to begin conversations and listen to their stories. But sometimes, I do not trust that my own stories hold up to the same interest. So in this glorious beach house with windows from ceiling to floor, I feel like every writing and blogging insecurity jumped straight through my computer screen and stands in full view for all to see.
Now let me be clear: Nobody inside the beach house ever made me feel this way. Ever. But I don't need anyone else to suggest I'm not up to par. I am my own worst critic, off and running with the enemy's dreadful lies.
So when on this occasion I find myself in a room full of women who aren't just good but excellent at what they do, I am overwhelmed by my own smallness.
I slowly open the bathroom door and see kind faces wrapped in concern. I smile weakly and somehow the words just tumble out,
"I don't belong here. I'm just not good enough."
Arms from Ann, Lisa-Jo, and Holley find themselves around me as well as kind words and prayers that give me fresh perspective of who I am in Christ. But I'm not gonna lie: It is a fight to keep my confidence.
I wonder if the same is true for you, if you've ever felt you didn't belong or just weren't good enough? You see the other women at your workplace or the moms at PTO and believe they have their act together while you fumble all ridiculous and small? You aren't alone.
Feeling small isn't a bad thing in and of itself. But when our mind travels from small street to the corner of unworthy and untalented, we have arrived in a dangerous part of town. We are small because of our great God, not because of great people. People are all the same in that we all need Jesus to bridge the miles between us and God. A smaller me leaves space for God to dish out his bigger, better plans for me. And wrapped in those tailor-made plans for each of us is an abundance of talent and smarts He graciously gives, all useful in His kingdom plans.
The other day, I read afresh Colossians 2:10,
"...and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority."
We have been given fullness in Christ. Today, we are already complete. We are worthy enough and talented enough and just plain enough. I repeat this to myself over and over and before long, the empty press of this world and devil static fade into the distance. It is then I find confidence and security with where God has me today.
Just like you, I have heart desires and soul dreams I want to birth. Some may need to be laid to rest on altars while others spring to glorious life. Either way, I will rally behind His plans for me rather than raise a roadblock. If God is for me, who can be against me?
May it not be me.
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Just Look at Me
Nov 03, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines
A girlfriend and I have weekly coffee on blurry-eyed Friday mornings, and we work well together, a slight quirkiness about us both, listening so intently to one another unless a good song comes on and makes us zone out and start singing. We both do it, so it's funny. Ginny and I both have kids and it's hard, and we need a break so we come, but we don't always come ready to reveal the depths. Often we come to soak in friendship a little. Always we try not to be mushy, but usually we fail miserably.
A few Fridays ago was no exception. I was explaining how recently I've been through a season where I felt carried along. Being in the hospital with Titus was more traumatic than I had given it credit for. I didn't know how hard it was at the time, because I fully believe that God had scooped me up like a sleeping child with her eyes barely peeking open. I saw the bumps, felt the roller coaster, the capsizing waves, and I hardly flinched.
I was being carried by God, with barely a prayer on my tongue or even the knowledge of left from right. One night I stayed awake all night long holding my limp Titus, and I hummed the songs I thought we could sing at his home-going. I may have been in shock. I planned my child's funeral.
I'm explaining this to her as one who understands more than I would ever want her to. She lost her son, and now she has three gorgeous children with her on the daily, one whose needs are very very special.
I was explaining it to her, how I feel like God has just put me down, and I don't like it. He's put me down, taken my hand, and said, "Now walk with me," and I'm watching myself pitch a fit like child. I would rather be carried, and I hear him whispering that He wants me to know Him, interact with Him, watch Him and follow.
Ginny's reaction to this was so dramatic. Both her hands hit open-palmed on the table, and she shook her head down, saying: "If you only knew. If you only saw what I do everyday." She went on to explain to me that when she brought her precious daughter home from the Ukraine and they had no idea the extent of her special needs, what they had to do was carry her everywhere.
Their daughter has learned to crawl and sit up strongly, and now she's walking very well with a walker. I remember rejoicing that she was learning to take more and more foods, praying that she would receive the bites and move her mouth appropriately. Just last week, Ginny sent me a video of her daughter with a spoon in her own hand. She was feeding herself, and I wept to see it.
Sometimes I feel the swell of the waves, the ship about to sink. I feel pressure on my marriage, and community is hard work, and my children aren't always likable. Life isn't coasting how I want it to. It's one of my most precious thoughts I have now to think of how He loves me: to take this image of our friends going after their daughter, bringing her home, and leading her in maturity. How they put her down and teach her to walk because they love her.
With tears rolling down both our faces, Ginny said, "All I want is for Lena to look at me, to interact with me." And it clicked for us both, more like we'd been whacked up side the head. God just wants us to receive Him. He just wants us to look at His face.
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.
post and image by Amber C Haines
:angel:
The World Needs More Love Letters
Nov 07, 2012 12:20 am | Dawn Camp
I stare at the blank card, lost for words. Why is this so difficult? Isn't this what I do when I sit at a keyboard and blog, share a piece of my heart, hoping to connect with women I may never meet? But these words will only reach one. How do you shoot an arrow at an unknown target?
With prayer.
Lord, bless the woman who finds this letter and give me the words she needs to hear. Amen.
* * * * * *
My oldest daughter wants to show me a project she's started. She's struggled lately and it weighs on me. "Go to MoreLoveLetters.com," she asks and I comply, eager to know the source of the light I see in her eyes. We watch this video and read these stories while tears slip down my face.
And I understand.
{Subscribers, click here to watch.}
Later as we walk towards the door at T.J. Maxx she slips away whispering, "I'm going to put a letter in The Hunger Games," and I nod, imagining who will find it . . .
My mother told me once that she worried about me. "You're only as happy as your least happy child," she spoke, knowing the chances that mine would all be happy seemed slim. She's been gone over 8 years now, but the wisdom of her words rings true as my children age.
This daughter writes down how she feels in words. They hurt her to write and me to read: Useless. Hopeless.
"The antidote for feeling useless is to be useful," I scribble in this journal where we write back and forth. "And one way to battle hopelessness is to bring hope to others. These letters you're writing? They're useful. They bring hope."
I don't see her read my words, but I know that she, too, understands. {Sometimes the girl who needs encouragement the most is the ones who does the most encouraging.}
"It is a surreal feeling, to compose a letter to an individual that you have no ties to but at the same time you want the whole wide world for them. I wished them a bright day. A day full of laughter. I told them they were unique & special & really quite smashing. (I might not have used the word 'smashing' but I probably will in the next letter.) Really, we are not told enough, in a genuine noncommercial manner, how brilliant we are. How intriguing and wonderful we are. How much we should be commended for waking up today and deciding to take on the task of being human. It is not an easy task. It is not always fun. But it is wildly worth it. Better that we write all these things down." October 10, 2010 (from moreloveletters.com)
I hear these stories, and I want to be a part of it; I want the Lord to use me to speak words of encouragement into eager ears.
Lord help me make a difference.
The Lord answers my prayers today as the words flow from hand to page and I take design inspiration from scrapbook paper and a perfume box. My tools: a set of markers, a pair of scissors, and a glue stick.
Who will find this? I don't know, but I've prayed for her.
Want to Join Us? A Giveaway and a Coupon Code to Get You Started!
Will you join my daughter and I and others who've chosen to pour blessings on strangers? Visit moreloveletters.com to find out how or take the shortcut and get started here. Have 10 or more friends who could write a batch of letters with you? Sign up to make a Love Letter Bundle!
Use coupon code LOVELETTER25 to receive 25% off all card purchases at DaySpring until the end of November. {The Holley Gerth Hope & Encouragement card pack is perfect and it's already on sale.}
One commenter on this post will win a $50 coupon code to DaySpring!
by Dawn Camp, who believes the world needs more love letters
:angel: :angel:
Everyday Miracles
Nov 07, 2012 12:05 am | Michele Perry
Word weaver. Paint slinger. Grace clinger. Sunset gazer. Pixel tamer. Dream wrangler. Born with multiple birth defects requiring 23 surgeries by age 13, Michele is no stranger to seeming impossibilities. Or to God's relentless Love and His ability to overcome them. She has been privileged to spend much of her adult life in some of earth's poorest and most broken places in India and Africa watching God transform them one life, one family, one community at a time.
Michele's first book Love Has A Face tells stories and lessons learned from her first two years pioneering the work she started with Iris Ministries in South Sudan. Her second book, An Invitation to the Supernatural Life, was just released in July 2012. She writes of her ongoing journey at fromtheunpavedroad.com and you can capture a fuller snapshot of her world over at micheleperry.me. She really, really hopes to see you there!
*****
A few years ago, during the dry season in South Sudan when the wind blew the dust hard and there was no rain for months. The vegetables withered and faded and the diet with them. Soon we were eating only maize and beans every meal. It was the time I ate only green powder and protein powder for months on end because my body does not tolerate maize.
Suffice it to say it was not ideal, but there was some amazing grace.
About two months into that season, I began to pray a little more fervently, "Papa, we need a solution. Not just for me, but a way to get nutrition into the diet of our children. You have the answers!"
Living supernaturally is absolutely practical. And not just in Africa.
A few more weeks went by. One day we had a visitor who worked in agriculture visit our compound. I shared with her my concerns. Her face lit up. "Do you know what is growing on your land?" she asked. Obviously I didn't. I was a city girl who had never even planted a seed before moving to Africa.
She walked me over to trees that had newly sprung up since we had started praying several weeks before. She introduced me to the moringa tree that is known for its incredible nutritional density and drought resistance.
Tears came to my eyes as I realized I was looking right at a green leafy miracle. I had walked past it completely unaware it was God's answer to our prayers, totally oblivious to the supernatural provision of heaven in our midst.
A number of times, God had multiplied the small amounts of food we did have to feed many more people than it should have been able to. Now He caused trees to grow on our land whose leaves had nutrition that would help our children and community become healthy.
I stood there, speech struck right out of me. So many times God is moving to answer our prayers in ways we do not yet see.
God delights to give us everyday miracles born in stables and take us on star-led journeys to discover His promises.
The most supernatural moments are not always the most extraordinary ones. Some days they are wrapped in simplicity, hidden in swaddling clothes and born in unexpected places.
We just have to have eyes to see them.
Dear friend, you reading these scribbled words, you are created to live out an amazing love adventure with Jesus. You are the reason I put pen to paper and splash my heart on a page.
You don't ever have to feel like you are on the outside looking in again. You are invited into your own journey, your own epic romance with the King of Kings Who holds seven stars in His hands and all our dislocated pieces too.
Yes, you right there with wide eyes and hungry heart and a messy kitchen floor. Crumbs and all, you are invited... not to observe someone else's adventure, but to embrace your own.
It would be my joy to journey with you and offer some practical encouragement on things like:
How to find stillness...
Hearing God's voice...
What it's like to have a vision...
"I think God spoke to me, now what do I do..."
What to do in the dry times...
You are not alone. You are cherished, chosen and deeply loved.
His, and yours–
Michele, From The Unpaved Road
{Would you like a sneak peek? I thought you might! You can download Chapter 1 from the kind folks at Chosen Books. Watch the book trailer. Come back tomorrow for an exciting giveaway... In the meanwhile, take a look at some of the endorsements and more information, and why don't you drop by the comment section below and say hi too. I'd sure love to hear from you! I'd particularly like to hear any questions you might have on hearing God's voice, prayer or going deeper with Him. I'll be hanging around and would love to hear your heart.}
:angel: :angel:
Speak Louder Than The Nutella.
Nov 08, 2012 12:20 am | Annie Downs
I tap my fingers on the table and check my phone again.
Nope, I hadn't missed a text or call... in the last twelve seconds.
He said he would call today. He hasn't.
The sun is starting to set, bringing the changing leaves into a brighter brilliance that on most days would put me in awe, but today? It just makes me feel alone.
Another day has started and now it is trying to end and yet my phone still hasn't rung.
I'm still alone.
I feel un-thought-of. That's not a thing, but it's a thing, isn't it?
Thinking that stepping away from the phone might make it ring [my crazy is showing, isn't it?], I stand up, walk to the kitchen, and pull a spoon out of the drawer. Just one scoop of Nutella will get my late afternoon back on track. Still more writing to do, deadlines to meet, emails to compose.
I pause at the cabinet. My counselor says that I have to determine a reason before I eat. [Yep, I see a counselor. And yep, we talk about food.] I usually bulldoze through that question, but in this moment, I actually stop. I stood there, spoon in the left hand and right hand steadied on the handle to open the cabinet to the Nutella.
Because I'm the only one home, I have an outloud conversation with myself.
"I'm not hungry," I say into the emptiness of my kitchen, "I'm just alone. And sad. And I'm about to eat this Nutella because something in my brain says that it will satisfy this hurt."
Whoa.
My grip tightens on the spoon and I slowly close my eyes.
"God, You're gonna have to be louder than this Nutella."
I turn away from the cabinet and I keep talking, saying the deep hurts of my heart and the disappointments and all the ways that I wish my life was different.
And then I'm finished.
I stand there. And nothing happens.
My phone doesn't ring. I don't see an angel. I don't feel some supernatural strengthening in my soul... all the types of things that you would expect this story to end with? They don't happen.
I just put the spoon away and come back to my computer, resigned. To what? I'm not sure, but that is the word I feel.
I'm reminded of my favorite verses, Psalm 73:25-26. My flesh and heart feel like they are failing, but He is the strength of my heart, my portion, forever.
I settle back down in front of my computer, and the background music begins....
I need You more, more than yesterday,
I need You more, more than words can say,
I need You more than ever before,
I need You, Lord.
And it is true. I need Him more than anything. I am so quick to heal all my hurts in other ways when I should just go to Him, every time. I'm tired of being single? I think Nutella will make it better. I don't know what it is you turn to – a person? A drink? A food? A television show? – but we all look for an escape hatch when this world hurts too much. I looked my escape hatch right in the door today and decided against it.
I don't feel better. My phone is still the quietest piece of technology in this whole house and I'm annoyed about it.
But for today, my vice loses, my God wins, and somehow, my heart will survive it all.
. . . . .
[PS- there is NOTHING wrong with Nutella or eating or food or eating food. It's not the Nutella, it's my heart. It's using the Nutella to heal instead of spread on toast. Just wanted to make that clear. Okay, that's all, bye. :)]
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel: :angel:
Catharsis
Nov 08, 2012 12:10 am | Kara Rodriguez
Sometimes gifts from God are straightforward, like a beautiful sunset.
Lately, I've been thinking about a gift that is, perhaps, less obvious—the ability to cry. I inherited my mother's tender heart. We cry when we are sad, happy, overwhelmed, tired, touched or feeling any other sort of strong emotion.
Sometimes this is embarrassing, like when I'm seeing a movie with new friends. I look around and realize that I am the only one moved to tears by the "intensity" of the scene and silently scold myself. For heaven's sake! You're an adult! Keep it together.
But what I try to remember is that this tendency I have is really a gift. I'd always heard that the act of crying is actually a stress reliever, so I took the liberty of doing a little research. In Psychology Today, Dr. Judith Orloff reminds us that
"tears are [our] body's release valve for stress, sadness, grief, anxiety, and frustration...they lubricate your eyes, remove irritants, reduce stress hormones, and they contain antibodies that fight pathogenic microbes."
How cool is that?
We can probably all think of times in our lives when tears were a blessing. While working toward my masters in social work, I had an internship at a big nonprofit doing refugee resettlement. I was assigned my own "case," a precious Bhutanese family that I worked with throughout my time there.
When I met them, they had just arrived in the US. They had been living in a refugee camp for more than ten years in a hut with no electricity, barely enough food, and the constant threat of violence nearby. I can't describe how amazing it was to watch them adjust to their new environment. Though they had little by our standards, they were filled with hope and excitement just to have a safe, clean place to live and the opportunity to work.
As my internship came to a close, I tried to think about how I was going to say goodbye. The oldest son spoke English fairly well, so I decided to write them a letter. I put off delivering it for as long as possible. I hate goodbyes. When I finally pulled up to their apartment complex and knocked on the door, the grandfather answered. The rest of the family was out. My heart jumped as I bowed in greeting to him. "Namaskar." That was all the Nepali I knew. He beckoned me to sit, and my mind raced.
I couldn't wait for them to return. My procrastination had put me in a difficult position.
As I sat there on the couch holding my letter, I was suddenly overcome with emotion. I felt so deeply for this family. They had experienced so much suffering, and I was inspired by their sweet spirits. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, and then I couldn't stop.
It was unprofessional, and it must have seemed strange to the elderly Bhutanese man sitting there next to me. Yet, somehow I think he understood. It was a moment I'll never forget. Our eyes spoke to each other across the language barrier, and I left my letter on the coffee table feeling confident that he would know how to explain my visit to the family.
When my (now) husband visited my family for the first time, we were already making plans for him to move to Texas from his native Costa Rica. We said goodbye at the airport not knowing exactly when we would see each other again. I cried for the entirety of my 45 minute drive home. Tears poured out of me like a dam finally breaking, and I released all the emotions of the last few months.
I cried joyful tears because I found the ONE at last! I cried sorrowful tears as I remembered our goodbye. I ached already to be with him again. I cried tears of worry and fear as I wondered how God would work in this situation. What sacrifices and challenges would we face these next few months? Could we survive?
When I got home, my dad was alone in the kitchen. He comforted me as best he could, and then he asked me a question that no one had asked me yet. "Do you think...maybe...you love him?" Our relationship was still so new, and I had always been slow to open my heart, but I knew immediately that my answer was "yes".
Sometimes our feelings are too powerful to express in words. Our tears say it all. Our joys and sorrows are freed through cathartic tears, and this is truly a gift from God.
By Kara B. Rodriguez, Spring is in the World
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Living Out of Overflow
Nov 08, 2012 12:05 am | Michele Perry
I cannot give what I do not have.
I do know that is stating the obvious, but sometimes it helps me to frame my world with language so I can make sense of its lessons.
Six years of living without electricity, without running water in the middle of one of the poorest corners of the planet as it fought its way back from decades of war has framed volumes of learning. Watching broken little lives be loved back to life and spill laughter again. Trusting God for our food and clothes and safety and healing and hope and everything else.
I am a born problem-solver, a creative to the core. An out-of-the-box thinker, a paradigm iconoclast. And then I moved to South Sudan.
All my good ideas were still good ideas, but they couldn't feed a growing family or heal a dying child, let alone help a warring nation. I needed an overflow that came from heaven, not from earth.
I could not give what I did not have. But Jesus. Beautiful Jesus. He came to give us life and life more abundantly. The lessons mandated by desperation. These burn the deepest.
I can only love out of overflow. Loving out of obligation never works. I know. I have tried. But where God's Love is miracles always follow. Why? Because God IS Love and He is good. Always good. Even when we don't understand.
Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. Romans 5:5
You could say that is why I wrote this book, penned this invitation.
I need to live with heaven spilling into and through my life. Don't you?
But what does that look like practically right where I am, where you are?
And the supernatural. Why would I be interested in that? Deep breath. I am not talking about Hollywood spookiness or staged showmanship. I am talking about the raw reality of God's love making a difference in our world and the ability to walk in close intimate fellowship with Him every single day.
Living supernaturally is simply our birthright in Jesus. And where I lived in Africa, it was a down-in-the-dirt necessity. {Since moving back to America this fall, I have found it pretty necessary here too.}
The transition has been a bit bumpy in places. Learning here too friends. Always learning. Always going lower. If I want to know what I am carrying, I have but to look at what I spill out when jarred.
Abundant, joy-filled, wonder-washed, resurrection forever Life only comes from overflow not obligation, from get-to not have-to, from His goodness not His sternness. Only when I live from this overflow do I leak grace and live out His love story etched in my moments and my days.
This book. It is an altar with my story and an invitation laid bare on it. It would be a joy to share at least part of the journey with you.
Might I encourage you? Be brave enough to stop. To seek out selah spots right in the middle of your busy life where you can slow and come to Jesus. {Those quiet moments you can steal away when the kiddos fall asleep in traffic or the rare occasion you are in line alone at the grocery store.} Lean in then to God's whispers and draw near to Him. He longs to speak to you in every setting.
Open wide your heart to His Spirit and the outpouring of His love. Drink deep. Splash freely. Flow over. Spill life. You and your world will never be the same.
Pssst... I am so excited! Today, just for Bloom I am giving away THREE autographed copies of An Invitation to the Supernatural Life. One of the best ways to grow in receiving more from Jesus is to honor and appreciate what He has already done. To enter, simply leave a comment below telling us one thing you are grateful God has done for you. As we read these testimonies keep in mind, a testimony is a legal precedent. It builds our faith and encourages all of us to believe God for the more we are created for. So let's get this testimony party started!
Always remember. You are loved,
Michele, From The Unpaved Road
:angel: :angel:
Counting Down to Christmas
Nov 07, 2012 03:35 pm | Jessica Turner
It's hard to believe that Christmas is just a month and half away. I have always been one of those people who has counted down to things, so it comes as no surprise that as a child I loved Advent calendars.
My mom would always buy my sister and me one of those simple paper advent calendars – you know the kind – where the little squares open like windows to show little pictures. We would take turns opening the windows and get so excited about what would appear.
I remember one year the calendar was an empty stable and as we opened the windows over the course of December the nativity came to life.
My sister and I would jump out of bed every morning to see who would show up next.
A shepherd!
An angel!
The mommy, Mary!
BABY JESUS!
Now a mom myself, I understand why my mom bought us an advent calendar every year. That simple cardboard calendar was a way for us to comprehend the meaning of Christmas.
This year I'm looking forward to using our new felt advent calendar each morning because its a tangible way to talk about the Christmas story– a literal reminder of love (a heart) coming down (the banner) – just like Jesus came down to Earth.
At dinner each night, as we break bread together, we'll read from our advent tabletop devotional. I believe that the Holy Spirit will use the Scripture, promises of God and questions to minister to our family's hearts – even my little ones, whose hearts are hungry for learning and truth.
The Christmas season is busy, but that doesn't mean it can't be meaningful. My prayer is that each of us will deepen our understanding of love coming down.
By: Jessica Turner, The Mom Creative
:angel: :angel: :angel:
More Than Apple Pie
Nov 09, 2012 12:20 am | Jennifer
But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it. 2 Timothy 3:14
It is a beautiful day, in early fall, when my sister and I both go over to our parents' house for our annual apple day. We get together to make apple pies, applesauce and apple turnovers. It is a day that I look forward to every year. This is the first year that my sister came as a wife. A newlywed! We gather together in the kitchen, around the counter and each take our positions. I am peeling and coring the apples, then handing them off to my sister. She cuts them and mixes in the other ingredients, before she hands that off to our mom. Our mom is making the crust, filling the tins and putting the pies together. We have quite a system figured out. It is a perfect process.
We are hard at work and concentrating on our tasks. The silence is broken when one of us has a story to share or when we burst out in laughter over something silly. The silence is broken when one of us has a question for my mom, who patiently makes sure to answer us. We listen intently... wanting to learn everything we can from her.
She has taught us so much over the years. She continues to teach us... through her words and through her actions. Of course we learn by listening, but I think we learn so much more by watching her. By witnessing her life. We learn about love. We learn about respect. We learn about compassion. We see love. We see joy. We see faith.
We are witness to her sincere faith. A faith that lives in her, which first lived in our grandmother, and in her mother and back through the generations. A faith that has been passed down. A gift. It is a sincere faith which now lives in us.
What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. 2 Timothy 1:13
These are truly precious moments. And at the end of the day, it is not about each of us taking home our share of apple pies, apple turnovers and applesauce. That is just a bonus. It is about so much more than that. We are taking home a priceless gift.
A gift of love and a gift of faith. One that we will keep and not turn from. One that we will continue to pass along.
Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6
Do you have traditions like our apple day, filled with moments that end up being so much more than they seem? We would love to hear about those special moments!
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
On saying it out loud
Nov 10, 2012 12:20 am | Arianne
There's this thing I'd like to talk about. Is it ok if I get right to the point?
We remember that God tells us to forgive but we are hurt, so hurt, and say no, maybe later. Maybe later I'll forgive, because it hurts too much right now.
And then we go about our day with an undercurrent of sadness whisping around and acting as a dark black ribbon running through everything we do. Everything I do.
I don't recognize it at first. I just think maybe I'm down, maybe I'm anxious because of this or that coming up. Maybe I'm cranky because I haven't eaten or slept enough. I always find something to explain it away.
But if I stop and pray, I know there's no physical reason. There's nothing on the to-do list that *really*, in my heart of hearts is causing these feelings. There's something I can't shake, this dark, not-so-dark-I'd-notice-yet-dark-just-the-same, kinda dark rain cloud that won't leave, is calling to me to pay it attention.
And as I pray, I ask God to reveal what that dark cloud is. What's going on? What hanging over my head?
And I hear that voice in my head, my God voice, and it says "my beloved, you need to forgive her."
I balk and decide the God voice is just my mind playing tricks.
But I don't believe that either.
"Forgive her. It will set you free."
I wonder if it could be true, if just by speaking out that I forgive her, for all of it, if that will bring me freedom from this now piling high list of issues I can't shake.
I step out in faith, because I do believe and I want to believe and so I do it. I speak it, I make it so with my words to God and I feel something physically release. I spoke forgiveness. I forgave her right there alone in my car in that parking lot that was so tiny and the rain outside kept me hidden and I did it. I forgave her.
And then it's like suddenly I can breathe deep. Big deep breathes are coming and going and I realize I never noticed I'd been holding my soul-breath all this time. I wasn't breathing. Now I am.
I feel lighter and peaceful and like eternity just shifted in that one tiny spotlight that was shining on that one tiny thing. It no longer hid in the darkness, I no longer held onto it. I was completely set free and I almost couldn't believe it.
And I realized – it has REAL power when I forgive. No it's not just for the other person (they might not even know!) and really, it's not just for me. I think that's limited thinking.
It's also for Jesus and for my soul, to set my soul free, which can only have a ripple effect that just might reach my husband and then my children. They, too, will get to experience my freedom because they are a part of me.
God wants us to step into that freedom, to taste what it's like, to breath for the first time.
Do you have someone you need to forgive out loud?
***
By Arianne
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Nov 11, 2012 12:20 am | LJ
The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
The righteous person may have many troubles,
but the Lord delivers him from them all;
he protects all his bones,
not one of them will be broken.
~Psalm 34: 17-20
:angel: :angel:
Long Awaited Miracle: The Best Kind of Update
Nov 12, 2012 12:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
I posted this on Jan 28, 2011. At that point I had waited, we had waited, prayed, tried, asked questions, begged, and tried to keep the faith for a child of our own.
Each time I was at the end of my ability to be patient and trust, God would send an encouragement that I could hold on to. Meat for my weary hunger. Confirmation that I wasn't crazy or dreaming up a plan that wasn't in His will for my life.
Waiting has been terribly sweet.
"Because sometimes in the waiting for what we long for, we praise God long when the gift comes at long last. Sometimes God has his people wait long, so our gratitude becomes deeper and wider." – Ann Voskamp, The Jesse Tree Journey
It was chosen for me – the waiting.
I choose my response.
I grew weary at the amount of "In God's timing. . ." I've heard after these last 5 and half years of deep desire to be called "Mommy." I know it's true and best, but those words stirred up ugly responses, like a rake to my tender heart.
But God. . . He has shown me grace, a bent down hug when I stumbled into a pit. He gives me revelation that His perfect timing was not only for me, but my future children – His little children. That someday their story will be in the Book with Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Benjamin, Samson, Samuel, and John. All prayed for and believed for by their parents. All appointed for a miraculous time. All chosen before birth by Our Creator, to a specific job in The Kingdom.
All of these, the ones that were prayed for, longed for, waited for – they all point to Messiah – the One we all waited for. Who has come as promised and will come again. The waiting for His return is long-suffering, but Revelation imagery tells us is worth the wait. More-than-I-can-imagine worthy.
So I wait.
Today. . .
The waiting is over!!! Now I'm expectant with hopes and prayers for the miracle that grows inside me.
Seven is a perfect number and that's how many years God prepared us for this moment, to give us a child that will enter the world in God's perfect timing for him/her, for us, for His kingdom. {According to the doctor's estimate, May 2, 2013 our little one will arrive in the world.}
But what I love most of all is how our biggest heart's cry and prayers through the waiting years has already come true. Before our little one takes his/her first breath, God is receiving the glory for this little life.
No one has heard our story and not stated that's it's a miracle. Strangers have praised God with us. Others have been encouraged to wait for their miracle.
God's infinite time is not like ours'. And when the miracle comes, the long-suffering seems like a blink. With our miracle realized, I don't look back but forward with faith. We are so thankful that He had a perfect story for us, one that quickly connects others back to Him.
___________________________________
I know your waiting can be discouraging and difficult. I relate to your struggles. But I am so thankful for the waiting.
Are you waiting on something, someone? Are you thankful for the waiting? Are you allowing Jesus to prepare you for His miracle?
Maybe it's a dream to be realized. Paperwork to be finalized for your child to be brought home. A love to find you and make you his own. A relationship restored.
I've worn galoshes through puddles of glory wondering if I could come up with the best version of how God would be glorified through the rain. My thoughts were not as high as His thoughts. His timing was not mine. {And I'm so grateful.}
I created scenarios in my mind of amazing endings to my waiting. How it would play out, how I would find out a miracle awaits.
I know this. His ways will include waiting. But all miracles are worth the wait.
"I will praise the Lord at all times. I will constantly speak His praises. I will boast only in the Lord; let all who are discouraged take heart. Come, let us tell of the Lord's greatness; let us exalt His name together. I prayed to the Lord, and He answered me. freeing me from all my fears. Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy." – Psalm 34: 1-5
What miracle are you waiting on? {Please share so we can pray for your endurance and praise Him when the miracle comes.}
:angel: :angel:
Learning to Let Go of the Try Hard Life (A Teen Book Giveaway!)
Nov 12, 2012 12:05 am | Emily Freeman
She is at a friend's house to play. She's six and she hates peanut butter but eats it anyway because that's what her friend's mom serves for lunch. She stays quiet about her preference.
She doesn't want to trouble anyone.
On her ninth birthday she listens through thin walls as her parents fight about nothing and everything. She knows there isn't anything she can do to make them love each other again.
She feels a sense of shame that she can't explain.
She turns thirteen and is the third best friend of two fighting girls who both tell her their side. She feels overwhelmed with the middle-ness of it all.
She doesn't sleep well at night.
She walks to her seat near the window in the back of her tenth grade English class, catches the eye of a friend across the room and notices the scowl on her face.
As she pulls a sweater out of her bookbag and shrugs it on half-way, she is aware of a nagging sense of shame and responsibility over the mood of her friend. Is she mad at me?
She feels hurt and rejected but tries to hide it.
At seventeen she learns of her acceptance into the college her entire family attended. She is afraid to tell them she doesn't want to go.
She feels responsible to live up to their expectations.
She laughs like her mama, likes country music, puts fries on her hamburger, and dreams about the future. She stays up too late and regrets it in the morning. She sees the moon in a winter sky. It makes her cry.
She panics in the spotlight but craves it at the same time. She makes friends easily but still feels lonely. She feels both too much and not enough.
She is smart and beautiful. But she doesn't know it.
She moves through life like a well-trained cheerleader, elbows and knees locked, smile on her face. With shoulders tense and teeth clenched tight, she braces for tests and right answers. She is ready for anything. But not really.
In a world where everyone's motives seem to drip heavy with expectation, she wonders if anyone knows who she really is.
There is a different way to live. Life isn't about trying hard to be good. It's about trusting God to be graceful in us.
Teaching our girls to be graceful doesn't mean perfect. It means free.
She is specially marked by God's divine grace. But she doesn't know it yet.
That's why I wrote a book for her.
Graceful: Letting Go of Your Try-Hard Life is a book for teen girls and was released in September. I'm thrilled to share it to you today.
Extra bonus? Five of you have an opportunity to win a copy for the high school girl in your life. Just leave a comment on this post.
And if you are a grown up and this resonates with you, you could grab a copy of my book for women on this same topic, Grace for the Good Girl.
Be sure to come back Wednesday for a link to the free downloadable small group leader's guide as well as a one page flyer for your youth pastor.
Portions of this post were adapted from Chapter 1 of Graceful. Read the full chapter here.
-by emily freeman, Chatting at the Sky
:angel:
To the Woman Who Is Looking for Grace in the Aging
Nov 13, 2012 12:20 am | Kristen Welch
I am getting old.
Before you roll your eyes, it's true. It's happening to all of us, one day at a time.
I remember wanting to be older in my twenties. I wanted to be seen as an adult. I rushed through those years, always wanting more.
My 30′s have been glorious. I felt good in my skin and accidentally discovered chasing your dreams is a good beauty regimen. I stopped hiding from mirrors and put the spanx away. My laugh lines look more like winkles and my "baby" who left me with a thicker middle is now reading.
The gray is coming in strong now, wild.
This is it.
But my 40′s are next, just one page away on the calendar. I can feel myself aging. I see the proof. And some days, I have a hard time embracing getting older.
I found out last week that my husband told someone I was getting "hotter with age." I made him repeat it three times. Hungry for his words because I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm aging gracefully. [I feel the same about him. The stray grays are distinguishing and his confident stance is sexy. Maybe we both just know we are stuck with each other until death and are living it up in our old age. Whatever. I'll take it.]
He said someone he worked with wanted picture proof of this aging beauty. He said he showed them a picture. "Which one?" I asked slightly horrified.
He pulled out his phone and showed them a picture from this summer in Kenya.
The one picture he has where I haven't showered in 3 days. Awesome. Without makeup or pretense or a blow dryer, this is the picture he shows people who want to meet his wife:
I was a bit mortified and he said, "Are you getting older? Yes. But as you age and live in joy, you just become more beautiful."
Why is this so hard for me to hear and believe?
I think I would have had him pull out my Glamour Shots from 15 years ago. I was reminded of a simple truth in that moment, one I often forget when I'm busy focusing on the outside. True beauty is found inside. When we are working on who we are there, it is reflected on the outside. And that's what he sees in that photo.
But I'm old enough to know the danger of putting my esteem in the hands of a man (even a good one). I have to believe that even though I'm constantly changing, I am the daughter of the One who never changes. His affection for me is pure, untainted by sin; He loves all of me very well.
You, with the baby on your hip and spit up on your shirt, you are beautiful. Grandma, with the white head of glory, there is grace in the aging. I'm in the middle of these and I'm looking for it.
You should too.
How to age gracefully:
See yourself as He sees you
Live Scared-chase God's big dream
Find someone younger to mentor
Encourage the woman who reminds you of yourself 10 years ago
Embrace your appearance as it changes
We are beautiful on the inside and out when we acknowledge Christ's deep and abiding love for us. Love that doesn't change with our accomplishments or appearance. It's always, always there -accepting us exactly for who we are or aren't.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel: :angel:
Erosion of the Soul
Nov 13, 2012 12:10 am | Holly Nichols Tabor
My family and I live in the North Georgia Foothills, a hilly place, just miles from the southern trail-head of the Appalachian trail. Living in such rolling terrain, you learn to deal with erosion. Erosion is the gradual wearing away of soil by water, wind, and storms. Webster's says that to erode is to "eat into or away; destroy by slow consumption or disintegration; synonym: grind" and the origin of the word means "to gnaw." Gnawing, that's what has been going on in my life for much of this year.
There's been nothing devastating, just a steady gnawing and grinding of the normal, everyday "tough-stuff-happens" kind of year. No hurricanes or catastrophes, just a constant wearing away of energy, joy, and peace with the grinding and gnawing of irritating stuff.
You know the kind of stuff: you have a good job, but the money just isn't going quite as far as it needs to; no one is seriously or fatally ill, but there is a constant barrage of everyday illnesses and minor accidents zapping everyone's health, energy and mood; everyone in your sphere seems to be edgy, on-edge and just plain irritable; minor traffic accidents that put a further cramp on limited time, money, and energy; crazy-busy, hectic days filled to overflowing with no time to pause, reflect and just breathe deeply. Just the normal, everyday events that everyone experiences, and sometimes there seems to be more of it all at once–wearing you down, gnawing at your energy, your contentment, your peace...not soil erosion, soul erosion.
When you're facing the devastating onslaught of a demon hurricane, you immediately go into crisis mode. As a Christian, you fall to your knees and FOCUS–on Christ, the Center of your ultimate existence, the Creator of your life, the One who holds your plan in His heart and hands. It becomes easy to focus on Him, because to focus anywhere else allows you to see the enemy of destruction beating at your door. For me, the hurricane was breast cancer.
While I fought cancer, God was my center, my refuge, my source of comfort and strength. I was focused on one goal–beating death and finding life. I was focused on Him and health, not the daily grind. It is a myopic way to live, but necessary when you are fighting such a powerful enemy.
Now that my health has returned, and I have reentered the real world, the real world is attacking with a vengeance; and for some reason, the daily grind has caught me totally off-guard. Now, I have soul erosion. Somehow, instead of living "the good life" I have allowed "the good life" to erode my joy–but I am ready to fight back.
Anyone who has lived in mountainous or rugged terrain knows that in order to stop the erosion you must put up special mesh fences guarding the soil from immediate erosion, while giving young plants time to grow, their roots spreading under the surface, creating a tight, protective web, keeping the soil from washing away during the heavy storms to come.
For a Christian, the mesh fence is prayer. You must stay in prayer to keep your focus on The One who is the author of joy. The protecting web of roots is Bible study–delving deep into His word to establish a firm and binding relationship with Him, while once again focusing on His love and joy and finding His purpose for your existence. These are soul erosion protectors, and they are necessary for maintaining your joy in the daily grind.
holly nichols tabor, glimpsejoy
:angel: :angel:
Little Things
Nov 14, 2012 12:20 am | Angela Nazworth
Great joy is often birthed from life's littlest pleasures.
Flour dusted on button noses. Teaspoons of batter filling a mini-donut maker. Tiny tongues licking frosting-covered fingertips. Nibbles. Smiles. Sticky kisses.
Misplaced syllables from a tired mother's mouth making the words "Dotty/Dadder Date" instead of saying "Daddy/Daughter Date." Giggles. Tickles. Hugs.
A creative 8-year-old planning a party complete with homemade games and prizes to honor her favorite animal ... the platypus. Heart tugs. Applause. High-fives.
Over the past few weeks, stolen moments of fun and sweetness like the ones mentioned above held my heart captive and turned the corners of my mouth upward.
They weren't milestones or "big deals," so to speak ... but they were moments that mattered. Little moments that add beauty. Little moments for which I am thankful.
I have found that the more time I take to bask in simple pleasures and to give thanks for the seemingly ordinary, the richer my life becomes ... or rather, the more equipped I am to understand and appreciate the riches I've been given.
What about you? What are some little things that have happened to you recently that brought big-time happiness?
:angel: :angel:
10 Ways to Know if Your Teen Girl Should Read Graceful (plus free resources for small groups!)
Nov 14, 2012 12:05 am | Emily Freeman
I get asked a lot about who I had in mind when I wrote Graceful {For Young Women}. Rather than give you a description of the girl I had in mind, I want to offer you 10 ways to know if your teen girl might need to read Graceful. Maybe I wrote it for her?
1. If she is a first-born child or has the typical characteristics of a first-born (responsible, dependable, organized), then she might need to read Graceful. (I'm not a first-born, but play one in real life).
2. If she loses sleep because of worry about school, homework, or grades then she might need to read Graceful.
3. If she thinks her real life won't start until she finishes high school, then she might need to read Graceful.
4. If she seems overly concerned with the opinions of others, then she might need to read Graceful.
5. If she thinks pleasing God is more important than trusting God, then she might need to read Graceful.
6. If she is a leader at school, in her youth group, and among her peers but tends to keep her problems and emotions to herself, then she might need to read Graceful.
7. If she is a rule-follower who sees all the world in black and white, then she might need to read Graceful.
8. If she is always the "good influence" in all of her peer groups, then she might need to read Graceful.
9. If she seems exhausted, overwhelmed, or distant, than she might need to read Graceful.
10. If she watches the video below and gets teary around minute 2:07, then she might need to read Graceful. (but she can't skip to 2:07 – she has to watch the whole thing).
If you are a high school girl, have a high school girl, or lead a small group of high school girls, here are some free resources that might be of help or encouragement to you as you consider reading or leading a small group through Graceful.
Free Small Group Leader Guide
Six-week guide for small group leaders to lead girls through the book. Complete with questions, examples and illustration suggestions.
Flyer for Youth Pastors
Like what you know about Graceful so far? Want to help spread the word? Download or forward this flyer to the youth leaders or pastor at your church.
Would love to hear from you today! Have you read the book on your own or with a group? What was your experience?
Do you have any questions for me? I'm (mostly) willing to answer anything.
You can also find me on Twitter @emilypfreeman
on Facebook
or on my blog, Chatting at the Sky.
:angel:
A Cup of Soup and Love
Nov 15, 2012 08:44 am | Jessica Turner
I love cooking this time of year.
Crock pot stews and soups are my favorites – comfort food that warms you to the soul level.
Recently I was cooking some soup for a family dinner. My new Love Came Down soup cups and tureen had arrived in the mail and I was excited to put them to good use.
And so I chopped and sauteed vegetables while thinking of Love coming down to earth as a baby 2,000 years ago.
My mind drifted to Mary and what it must have been like to carry the Son of God.
And to Joseph and what those nine months must have been like for him.
And of course to that night in the stable. The birth. Those first moments as a family.
{Makes me think of the Joy Williams' song Wish...}
It's funny how often I meet Jesus in the kitchen. Maybe it is the methodical tasks that free my mind to wander to the holy. Or maybe it's the tangible messages of love and grace on the dishes stacked on my countertop.
No greater love than Jesus.
Yes. This.
I want to drink that message this Christmas season in the same way I drink deep the hot broth of my vegetable soup.
So deep that it fills me to the soul level and makes me burn with a passion that can only be the Holy Spirit in me.
I love having reminders of the why of the season around my house.
Don't you?
:angel: :angel:
Journeying Together
Nov 15, 2012 12:20 am | Lisa Leonard
A few days after my first son was born I had terrible abdominal pain. His labor had been induced, complete with epidural, so this pain was quite literally the worst physical pain I'd ever experienced in my life. On top of that, our baby boy was in the newborn intensive care unit with major health issues threatening his life. I was undone. Between the physical pain and the emotional pain, I couldn't sit, I couldn't stand, I couldn't speak and I couldn't hear. As the pain physical pain intensified, I ran to the bathroom to throw up, but once I got there, I quickly laid down on the cold tile for fear I was going to faint. I was inconsolable.
My husband helped me over to our bed and lay beside me. For an hour he simply laid beside me and softly rubbed my arm, while I cried and moaned. His hand on my arm and that soothing touch felt like my only connection to sanity. I focused all of my attention on his soothing touch. At some point I drifted off to sleep and woke in the morning feeling exhausted but free from physical pain.
That was over ten years ago. And I often go back to that vivid memory when I'm sitting with someone who is experiencing excruciating pain. There are no words to make it better. There is no easy answer that will make the situation better. Dare I say it? There is no verse that will take away the sting. I remind myself how much I needed to feel someone by my side when I experienced that terrible pain years earlier. And in those moments, I know, all that is required of me is to be there. To sit beside my friend and just be. To listen. To cry with her. To hold her while she hurts and to be willing to journey though the pain with her.
Sometimes journeying together is done quietly. It's a steady, unwavering love. A willingness to enter into the darkest places and simply stay by someone's side.
Can you think of a time when you needed a friend or when a friend sat with you. Perhaps nothing was said, you simply grieved together?
Won't you share in the comments so we can take courage in one another?
:angel: :angel:
What Your Facial Expression Says
Nov 15, 2012 12:10 am | Nikole Hahn
"Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves." Romans 12:10 NIV
They used to tell me during my training at Bank of America, "Smile. They can't see your expression over the phone, but when you're smiling it shows through your voice." I've always put that tidbit of wisdom in my mind to retrieve later. It made sense even to twenty-something year old me, and it has stayed with me now at thirty-something. Recently, a comment reminded me that this saying is also true in the spiritual sense.
If we're busy in our mind putting down something like the color of the carpet or someone's actions, your dark thoughts will show on your expression. The small muscles in your face tense and your eyes will look too sharp. This makes a person unapproachable. At church, if my mind fills with angry thoughts, my husband tells me I look like I am in a less than worshipful mood. How can I serve on days like that if I am too busy focusing on what I want rather than what others need?
So when I began instructing people on how to reach out to others, I said, "Smile. Make eye contact. Be approachable."
A person seeking a friend is only going to see my closed expression as I put down things or people, and they will keep their cares to themselves. They will go somewhere else. So the wisdom that Bank of America has taught me during those younger years are still true today, but with a slight alteration:
"Smile. You may not agree with someone or something, but when you're smiling and focused on others you're less apt to complain about trivial matters."
What can I pray about for you?
:angel: :angel:
Grace Before
Nov 16, 2012 12:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
I admit that I struggle a bit with that one well-known story about Susannah Wesley, mother of 19, who would pull her apron over her head when she needed alone time to pray. She'd manage to find a moment of quiet amidst the chaos around her (I mean, can you imagine?) in order to commune with God.
I struggle with that because I forget to do that. When I'm filling the CrockPot in the morning for dinner because it's one-of-those-days, I don't remember to stop what I'm doing, close my eyes, and pray for those mouths that will later eat this food.
And I admit that when I'm reading evening devotions with my daughter just before I kiss her goodnight, my eyes fade and my mind checks out a bit. It's not that I don't want her to imbibe all these good words into her heart—it's that I'm about to pass out, I'm so tired from the day's work.
It's times like these that I remember the necessity of thanking God as we work. Yes, we should be still and commune with God. But there are seasons in life—such as parenting little ones—that make it challenging to grab more than a few minutes of stillness before God.
I believe that a regular, thankful spirit of gratitude is communing with God. Being grateful for all the forks and spoons as I set them on the table, and that we have food to put on them. Remembering the small, simple ways I can weld my soul to God's my filling my words, actions, and thoughts with gratitude:
• Choosing to not complain when the many things we own are strewn about our warm house that provides a roof over our heads.
• Taking my kids to the grocery store, so that they see me make food choices that are healthy for our bodies and our budget—gratitude by way of stewardship.
• Making a list of that for which we as a family are thankful, and displaying it as a reminder.
• Taking good care of our possessions, out of gratitude for our abundance. (Which reminds me, I need to clean out the car.)
• Stopping and snuggling with my kids, smelling their hair as they lob yet another book on the couch, because these days fly by far too fast.
• Taking time to write our Compassion kids, because it makes all the difference in their lives, and it reminds my kids that we have so very much.
• Choosing to go with the flow during the hard days when nothing goes right (this happened last week)—and choosing to go to bed early that night, because His mercies are new every morning.
• Saying grace before almost everything—nothing poetic; just a simple breathing of "thank you" before I go running, before I write, before I wake up the kids for school, before I zip my debit card through the machine, before I fold the clothes. Thanking God for ALL THAT I HAVE and ALL THAT HE IS.
He is good. He is gracious. He is lavish. And He delights in us. There is much to thank Him for as we wash the dishes and wait in the carpool line.
What's one way you whisper gratitude as you go about your day?
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Nov 18, 2012 12:40 am | incourage
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:5-7
:angel:
For Them.
Nov 19, 2012 08:43 am | Annie Downs
Photo by Dawn Camp
This was always for them. The twenty or so teenage girls who would show up at my house on Monday nights.
They weren't a quiet bunch, in general, but that never seems to be the crowd that is drawn to me [not surprising]. Many of the girls I had known for years. Growing up in the same church where I now led a high school girls Bible study meant many of the same little children that I used to babysit or watch in the nursery were now sitting in a circle on my kitchen floor bemoaning the trials of high school.
It was our second school year of the She-Ra Bible Study. The boys met simultaneously at another home, they were called He-Man, so it only seemed fitting that we would invoke the name of his feminine and muscular counterpart. At the beginning of each semester, the senior girls and I would grab lunch and then head to the local Christian bookstore to decide on a direction for the She-Ra Bible Study.
This particular day, the four girls and I had soup in a bread bowl and then spent almost forty minutes perusing the young adult section of our local shop. Nothing really sparked their interest, nothing challenged them right in their spot of need.
We left empty-handed. I honestly didn't know what we were going to do. I shrugged my shoulders as we headed back to my Toyota Camry and loaded up. Before the fourth door slammed, Ashley leaned forward and said, "You know what, Annie? Why don't you just tell us some stories?"
And it clicked in my mind. Yep, I can do that. I'm a talker by nature, to be certain, and my love of writing had recently been set ablaze thanks to a Beth Moore Bible study in which I was participating. So I agreed and set to work.
A 4th grade school teacher during the week, I began spending my Saturday mornings hunkered down at my kitchen table, resources spread out, coffee in a mug, and music playing through the house. Fairly early on, I felt God download an outline of sorts- body parts. Start at the head, work down to the feet, write stories about how to worship Him with what He had given us, all based on Romans 6.
Romans 6:13
Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness.
See, many of my She-Ra girls were in a unique place in their faith walks. These girls were committed to Christ, serious about their faith, but unsure of how to grow deeper as a teenager. We didn't need to talk about how to resist getting drunk, we needed to talk about how to resist gossip. I wasn't worried about whether they would show up to church, I wanted them to show up to serve at the soup kitchen in town. It was about their hearts, not their actions. And since I had known many of them for years (and, even though they hate this fact, I had changed many of their diapers in years past), I knew them really well.
So I wrote for them. I wrote for the girls that I knew. I wrote for the ones who showed up at my house, drank all my coffee and sampled any food they found. The ones who trusted me with their hearts, their struggles, their teenage years.
I would photocopy each chapter, or "lesson" as it was at the time, at the school where I worked and have them three-hole punched and ready to go when the girls showed up. With their coffee snack, highlighter, Bible, and stack of papers, they would spread out all over my house. While music played over the speakers, a hush would fall as the girls dove in. It was a dream come true for me- I bought a house specifically hoping and praying for moments like these- when every room was full of teenaged girls digging into the Word and pursuing deeper relationship with Jesus.
So they would read. Highlight. Make notes. And then we would come back together and talk about it. Before I even had the twinkle in my eye about making these pages into a real book, I made notes as they talked. What they loved and wanted more of, I highlighted. What they didn't understand, I made a mark to myself. What they hated, I crossed out. Mainly for my own knowledge and for future Bible study writings, I wanted to remember the things that teen girls didn't connect with easily and the parts that moved them.
A few years later, those girls have gone off to college, gotten married, had babies, started churches with their husbands, moved to the mission field. And that little notebook of photocopied stories? It's a real book- Perfectly Unique- that many more girls are reading than I could have ever imagined.
Every email from a reader of Perfectly Unique surprises me. The girl in Canada that is finally learning to love herself. The mom in New York who feels like she is better equipped to mentor her daughter. The college student in Alabama who simply needed permission to dream about missions. They are dear to me- even the idea that God would take these writings out of my hand and launch it into the hands of many women who are knowing Him better because of it? It's almost too much for my emotions to handle. I am so honored to be a part of this story, a part of each of the women's stories who read Perfectly Unique and learn how to better love God, love themselves, and love others.
I am so glad that teen girls around the world are reading this book. But in my heart, and in the hearts of those twenty gals from Marietta, Georgia, that are no longer in my living room but instead spread across the globe, serving God in their own ways. This was always for them."
***
Annie Downs is an author and speaker who loves living in Nashville, Tennessee. Flawed but funny, she uses her writing to highlight the everyday goodness of a real and present God. Her first book, Perfectly Unique, released in stores September 2012. Find the book at DaySpring.com for only $7.99. Read more at annieblogs.com
Tune back in to Bloom (in)courage on Wednesday for a Perfectly Unique Giveaway!
:angel: :angel:
How To Change The World By Christmas
Nov 19, 2012 12:20 am | Deidra
I went to Haiti as part of a team of bloggers with Help One Now, and when I came back, I was convinced of this one thing: As part of the body of Christ, you and I have the power and the resources to change the world. We can put an end to poverty. I'm sure of it.
We can definitely change the world by Christmas. And we can do it without spending anything more than what we've already planned.
Here's the thing. We are all going to shop for stuff. We're going to make airline reservations. We're going to buy holiday presents. We're going to get dog food or cat food or fish food. We're going to download music from iTunes. We're going to get batteries for the remote control or for the garage door opener or for the flashlight we keep in the glove box. And, of all the spending we do each year, we're going to do 40% of it between now and December 25th!
So, what if we could leverage the spending we're going to do anyway, redirect a portion of it to raise $100K to fund the Legacy Project, and build that school for 150 of the beautiful children living in Haiti?
You and I, working together with Help One Now, and the incredible people at Pure Charity, can make it happen.
Pure Charity has partnered with more than 1,000 (1,000!) online retailers! Sign up for a Pure Charity account and, when you shop online and buy stuff, a portion of what you spend goes directly to your Pure Charity giving account. Then, you get to decide how that money gets spent!
Now, if you're like me (and by that, I mean, a bit skeptical), you're thinking these shops aren't the shops where you'd normally buy stuff. But wait! Not so fast. Do any of these online spots sound familiar to you?
Apple, ALDO, Petco, Best Buy, DSW, Banana Republic, American Eagle, Ann Taylor, Ann Taylor LOFT, Crocs, Eddie Bauer, Holiday Inn, American Eagle, Enterprise, Marriott, Kohl's, J. Crew, Charlotte Russe, Pottery Barn, Family Christian Stores, Avenue, Southwest Airlines, 7 For All Mankind, Priceline, Bloomingdale's, Dillard's, Petsmart, Groupon, Target, Walmart, Walgreen's
Exactly! And, that's not even the tip of the iceberg. We can change the world, simply by shopping online at the places we already shop. Here's how:
Sign up for a Pure Charity account. ("Follow" me, and then scroll down to "Get Started" and set up your own account. Following each other means our giving is compounded, and that means we'll change the world even faster!) If you're on Facebook, you can sign in through that, or create an account the old fashioned way.
Install the browser plugin. This will make it so a Pure Charity icon will pop up when you're browsing particular stores online (like Target, Gap, even Groupon). If you purchase via the pop up, a percentage of your sales will feed into your charitable giving account. (You spend $, then make $, then give $).
Register your main credit card with Pure Charity. This is the no-brainer part of the process. When you shop, every time you use your credit or debit card at one of their participating merchants, you receive a percentage of your purchase into your giving account.
Now, browse the projects (there are many) that you could potentially fund.
Support your favorite project. We would be thrilled if you'd fund The Legacy Project (to support the current phase, go here), and help build a school for the children at the Yaveh Shemah Home for Children (via bank or debit/credit card). All projects are time specific, with a set amount of $. If that project doesn't fund by the finish date, Pure Charity refunds the money back into your giving account.
Share it with friends! There's a strong social connection to this (a good reason to sign in using Facebook), where you can share buttons and widgets with your friends and followers, to generate interest in a cause you're passionate about.
If you're looking to change the world, this is one way to make it happen.
Will you please open your own Pure Charity account and help fund the Legacy Project? Will you please tell your friends? Will you talk about the Legacy Project and Pure Charity on Facebook and Twitter and wherever else your tribe hangs out?
This is you. This is me. This is us. Changing the world.
:angel: :angel:
Do Less Be More
Nov 20, 2012 12:25 am | The Nester
Every year I write a post called Do Less Be More. And every year I wonder if I really do it. It's fun to declare what I'm not doing and wag my finger at Christmas stress before Thanksgiving. But it doesn't really matter unless I follow through.
Here are my main three ideas that I want to do this Christmas season:
Focus on People
Say yes to friends, snuggle with my boys and husband, enjoy doing things together even the things I wouldn't choose to do.
Be Generous
With my time and money and be mindful of others, that last one seems so simple but I feel like I haven't had my brain for the past two months and being mindful has somehow escaped me.
Slow the Season
Avoid hurry. Watch White Christmas too many times. Cook lots of meals. Sit on the sofa with friends. Take walks in the cold. Keep the computer closed. Rejoice, with the weary world.
Come visit me today at Nesting Place to read what I'm NOT doing this season and for your chance to win over $700 in prizes from DaySpring!
But first, what are you saying YES to this season?
:angel: :angel:
Queen Naina {A JOYN Story}
Nov 20, 2012 12:10 am | Melody Murray
At the very heart of JOYN is to see lives changed. Changed lives – it's why we do what we do. Our artisans live in some of the most difficult environments in the world and it is our desire to connect them with opportunities for change. Our passion is to bring JOY to them, to their families, to their communities. We bring this JOY by providing them with sustainable markets and good design for their products. We use fashion to create better lives.
JOYN gives more than markets. We are passionate about a holistic approach to change – we provide our artisans with good work environments, eduction for their children, english and vocational training, medical care for their families. All over the majority world you can find artisans with handcrafting skills, but very rarely can these individuals sustain their families on their own efforts. They need markets. They need connections. They need opportunities. When we provide these opportunities, we change lives. Its that simple.
We have the privilege of working with over 40 artisans who work in one of the most challenging environments in the world. At JOYN, we utilize as many hand made processes as possible, so we can create as many jobs as possible. Because each item is made by hand, each item is unique and loaded with quality. To learn more about our process, click here.
***
I awoke to a knock at the door and the light had just barely decided to get up, so I knew it couldn't be much past 6am. Iʼve always found it difficult to find just the right articles of clothing to throw on my body in order to feel decent enough to answer the door quickly, but I managed this time without waking too many other sleepers.
I heard her speak softly to me as I cracked open the door, "maʼam...maʼam". It was Naina. She has a face, a voice, a walk, a talk, a past, thatʼs so recognizable...you canʼt miss her. Sheʼs "Queen Naina" as some say – her dynasty and dominion reigns over the streets of our town.
Sheʼs grown up begging. Forced to beg. She has family, but for some reason, in this crooked, broken world, they decided that once she could walk, she should spend her days out on the street holding her hand out, drooping her eyes, maiming her body so that she could make them a few bucks a day. Its so backwards I canʼt even allow my mind to think on it too long without an anger welling up in me that makes me scared of my own self.
Sheʼs 13.
We think.
She just got married off to a 30 year old last month. We think. She ran away from him last night and has now come to my house. She said she was hungry. My husband made her an omelet. Probably the first meal sheʼs ever received home cooked by an amazing dad. What now.
Iʼm 33 and mother of the two sweetest, cutest little rascals I could have ever wished for – five & six, brothers, built-in best friends. They race in for breakfast and greet Naina with a "good morning." Levi sings her a ditty and hops his zebra over her arms as she eats. Micah sits across the table noting intelligently that he really likes how Papa made his egg today, sunny-side up.
He has a current obsession with the various ways of cooking eggs. Naina's just taking it all in. I look at Naina as she snarfs down her egg and she looks at me. She smiles as we sit around the breakfast table, probably something sheʼs never experienced before.
I have nothing in common with Naina. Nothing. Iʼve tried to relate, but how can you really understand someone whoʼs lived a life on the streets of India, scheming up every meal, racing toward any adult who appears to have money, only to stoop so low as to hold your hand out and yank on their shirt until they hopefully drop a few rupees in your palm?
For Naina's whole life, her neuropathways have carried messages of fear, doubt, distrust, anxiety. How do you convince someone you care for them or that you wonʼt hurt them, when they have no context for the ideas of love and trust?
My life is as opposite as it gets. Privileged, blessed, fortunate – these words donʼt even seem to bring the comparison justice. I have had amazing parents, an ideal childhood, a good education and all the support, opportunities, and resources I could ever need to live a life full of good, joy, peace, ease. Sure, Iʼm normal. Iʼve had hard times, hard things happen, hurt. But sometimes I donʼt think I know what trial actually means.
I often think about how I couldʼve been Naina – or any of the other street beggars, lepers, handicapped, outcast, marginalized folks I see daily here. You might think some of them deserve it, but reality is that they were born into this life.
I was born into mine.
You were born into yours. What to do with this mystery?!
I donʼt know much about how to do this. How to live a life among the poor and offer hope, love, Jesus. I often find myself frozen with feelings of inadequacy and confusion. But I do know one thing and I seem to know it more every day.
I understand grace better now. Each day that I come into contact with the poor, each day that I see the brokenness in this world, each day that I open my door to a Naina, I end the day baffled by Godʼs love and provision for me. Undeserved. Undeniable. Oh how marvelous. How wonderful.
Can you imagine what it would be like for Naina to find it? To understand and claim Godʼs grace over her life, and her past? To see who she is in him, and how much he loves her? To see him begin to mend broken things around her? What a day that would be. Not Queen Naina of the Streets, but Princess Naina, beloved daughter of the Creator King of the Universe.
She finished her eggs and said she needed to get back home. I told her weʼd be here, and that this will always be a safe place for her. Itʼs 6:20 the next morning as I write this. The grey light is just fading in over the hills. My slippers and sleep pants are sitting next to my bed this morning.
I await my next reminder of His grace and love and my chance to share it.
By: Melody Murray, JOYN Founder
:angel:
Coming Out of Hiding
Nov 24, 2012 12:20 am | Sarah Mae
"God calls us, as He did Adam, to come out of hiding. No amount of spiritual makeup can render us more presentable to Him." -Brennan Manning, Abba's Child
Naked.
Totally exposed; completely bare; free.
For awhile now the clothes have been coming off, piece by piece, as I discover how bare I actually already am, and what it means to really be covered.
The first covering was given to Adam and Eve when they realized just how bare they were; it was uncomfortable and embarrassing; there was shame brought on by the fact that their sin was exposed. They were naked, and they knew it, and so they hid from the One who knew their nakedness before they did. For their sake, and out of His kindness, God covered them in a coat made of skin (Genesis 3:21). You don't get skin without the kill. And so there it was, the first sacrifice, the spill of blood so that the people would be covered and their shame hidden.
And still we hide. Even though God knows every woven piece of our being, we hide. Our eyes are wide open to our failures, and so we cover because we don't want to be found out. We give pretense and we try to be and do in order to be accepted and loved, but what we forget is that God sees past all of it; He's sees our bare selves and He loves us anyway. We can't be more or better and think that we will some how get closer or be more loved by God; He loves us in spite of ourselves. And yet, He offers a covering still. He offers a covering of blood so that will be free to walk with Him in the garden without shame or pretense or posturing.
He offers the opportunity for freedom.
Our new covering is on the inside, over our spirits, and it transforms us from being shackled to sin and frees us to stretch into our new selves without fear.
We don't have to hide from God (this is actually impossible anyway), and we don't have to hide from people (oh, this one is possibe, and quite frequent).
We are cracked and swollen and desperate. And He already knows our mess.
I'm saying, let's be messy and honest. Let's not try to super glue the cracks, but instead let the Holy Spirit work through them to bring light to a messy world. You can't let your light shine if you try to patch up the cracks.
So here I am, losing my clothes, getting closer to naked. I wonder if this is really what sanctification is about? Not becoming more, but becoming less, until we are fully bare.
Covered yet naked. A gracious mystery that I am falling into. And it's gloriously freeing.
"If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others." -Brennan Manning, Abba's Child
By Sarah Mae
:angel:
The difference between asking how I can pray for you and praying for you
Nov 27, 2012 12:20 am | Robin Dance
Timing for a girls' weekend couldn't have been more perfect (at what age do I have to call us "ladies"? Never, please?). I was home from Germany for only four weeks and the getaway just happened to coincide.
This group picks up right where we left off; commas end our good-byes. Soon enough, conversation gurgles and swirls, an easy-flowing meander in the way men will never understand but women intrinsically know. Talk was common, the parts of our lives we miss during the in-between, the long gaps of not being with one another, the game of catch-up.
They wanted to know about Germany, and because (understandably) I've been asked so many times, I felt like the little old lady who tells you EXACTLY how she is when you ask, reciting acres of infirmity. Except these days, due to my husband's job, my list sounds like an ad for Travelocity.
How do you explain your impressions after drinking from a gushing fire hydrant for seven months?
I give a condensed, practiced response, the one I share until and unless someone really wants to know more.
One of my girlfriends wants to know more, but it's not about Germany, per se; she wants to know about me. And, yes, her lips are doing the asking but, my God, her eyes are penetrating mine and she takes hold of my heart, and with both hands squeezing, wrings hard.
"How are you doing with all the changes you've gone through the past year? How's your heart doing?"
I hadn't seen it coming. Buoyed by laughter and connection and stories, sitting on that bedroom floor with the wall holding me up, I didn't realize my guard was completely down.
I shook my head slowly no, unable to speak, tears burning my throat and stinging my eyes, my own body betraying me...revealing secret hurts. Relational void, disappointment, rejection, loss. These are First-World Problems I've convinced myself, only someone with material excess would dare to ache over these things. I've never worried about my next meal or clothes or a roof; my marriage is 25 years strong and my husband loves me more now than he did then, and my three children are well on their way to becoming the young adults I prayed they would be.
How dare I complain out loud or to myself when blessing abounds? The material, yes, but every spiritual blessing, too.
* * * * * * * * * * *
For most of my years, life has been filled to the overflow. I'm naturally wired to see half-full glasses and silvery linings and shiny bright sides.
And yet here I am, barely able to speak, exposed, in front of God and e v e r y b o d y.
This season of Eeyore was foreign, unwelcome, uncomfortable...and messin' with my head, heart and soul something fierce. You see, I'm inclined to believe life isn't fair; not in the "poor me" kind of way, but quite the opposite: it's not fair how much I've received. I was fighting the urge to look at the Unfair Life from the other side.
In this fallen paradise, though, isn't the Unfair Life this life? Doesn't it serve to remind us we're not made for this world? Is it not the Unfair Life that stirs a longing for Eternity's door?
And yet, there's this Kingdom life, here and now; and is the source of my heartache that I forget where I live, that I sink like Peter because I'm too busy looking at the waves, and without even realizing it, forget that Jesus is right there?
* * * * * * * * * * *
Her question was match lighting soggy fuse and it didn't do me a bit of good to try to stop those blasted waterworks.
Just then, Jesus-with-skin-on opened her mouth.
"Come right here," she said, patting an empty spot on the bed next to her. "We're gonna pray for you."
I shook my head no again and whispered I can't and she gently insisted Yes you can...right here (patpatpat).
All the other ones gathered round and close. They touched me with their hands and with their hearts and with their words. They pressed blessing and understanding and healing deep, deep, deep into marrow.
How did they know exactly what to pray? I hadn't given them details–but in the beautiful, mysterious ways of God, He led them through the veins of my ache and ministered love through these heart sisters.
It could have gone another way, it certainly has plenty of times before. No telling how many times I've been asked "How can we pray for you?"; probably the same number of times I've asked "How can I pray for you?"
Sharing prayer requests can be a good thing, communicating information that might not otherwise be known. But so many times in my experience, we've done more talking about the requests than praying for them.
That day sitting in the center of a bed raw and exposed and snubbing like a baby, with sister-friends surrounding me and loving me out loud, I needed the difference between talking about and praying for. Even if it was a little awkward and I was embarrassed later.
Those holy moments of intercession and my friend's divine prompting to PRAY and not ASK, have had a beautiful, residual affect in my own life beginning with my own children less than 48 hours later.
Tell me your stories; as you read my account, did it spark a memory when someone prayed for you and it made all the difference in the world to your battered heart? Or perhaps a time you prayed for someone in the moment? Or maybe when you've been too timid to pray right then, and instead asked how you could pray later? These are the stories of our lives ~ "...let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds," okay?
If you're a parent to a college student or know others who are, I've found a wonderful prayer guide to lead you in praying for this challenging and demanding time of life. Might you share it with your college pastor or someone you care about?
By Robin Dance, author of PENSIEVE, who's patting the spot next to her, gently insisting for you to Come here!
:angel: :angel:
The Year Of Saying Yes
Nov 27, 2012 12:10 am | Katie
For the last six years of being a mother, I have found that I have been reluctant to say "yes" to things outside of my family. I have felt like my priority had to be my family.
While I know there are certain seasons in life when we cannot say "yes" to a lot of extra activities- I found that there was a deeper issue why I was reluctant. I was afraid to say yes. I've been asked in years passed to step into leadership roles and I have usually declined.
The root cause of my declining I have figured out is fear.
This past spring, the call came from a gal with my MOPS group asking if I would prayerfully consider being one of two coordinators for the following year. Me? Coordinator? With all honesty I thought she had confused me with another woman in the group.
I could not fathom standing up in front of the group leading women in prayer and having all eyes on me.
Do they not know who I am? I have shortcomings and failures! Lots of them! How could I stand up in front and be seen as a leader?
But, then I began to focus on the calling rather than on what I thought of myself.
My husband was on board and encouraged me to say yes. After more praying, I felt like this was God knocking and I needed to answer. I was comforted by the saying that goes "God equips those that He calls." I was gaining confidence that this was what I was being called to do.
So after a summer of training/praying/and preparing for this MOPS year along with other mothers who said yes to leadership roles- I have been encouraged and amazingly inspired seeing God at work. God has been equipping me for this role all along.
Our first meeting has come and gone. I stood up in front of 60 ladies and by nothing short of a miracle; I stood solid, not shaking like a leaf. I served these ladies with a glad heart. I prayed for them all summer and knew God lead them there to our group for a purpose.
The biggest lesson through this experience was figuring out, that it is not about me. It had nothing to do with how I looked, or how eloquently I spoke.
I was so focused on myself that I could not say yes before. I was so focused on my inadequacies and insecurities and doubts that I would not allow God to do a good work through me. By laying down my life and saying yes, use me Lord, I have experienced true joy and contentment that I have not experienced before; from serving others and being the hands and feet of Jesus.
I encourage you, too, to say yes.
We are not all called to EVERYTHING, but all of us are called to something. What is your something?
It might be uncomfortable that which we are being called to. It might feel like a joke, like, really me? Why would I be good at that? Sometimes it is not about being the best at something, or the smartest, or wittiest, or most talented.
God uses us ordinary women to do extraordinary things for His glory, and all we have to do is say yes.
By Katie Brown, Simple & Special
:angel:
The Christmas Party that Almost Wasn't
Nov 28, 2012 12:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
The phone rang, and I just knew it was someone calling about the party.
My stomach sank, and I got that nervous tummy feeling. You know that one that happens when you're tongue tied and the words wont come? The one when multiple conversations play over in your head at breakneck speed, while you try and predict each outcome? Yes, I knew you understood that nervous tummy feeling.
I debated letting the answering machine pick it up, but I knew it was delaying the inevitable.
I glanced around my kitchen and great room. With a plethora of Christmas boxes straggled everywhere, loads of laundry piled on the sofa, and three fully packed suitcases waiting by the stairs, my home didn't caress, "Welcome, I'm so glad you're here." It screamed, "Stay away if you fear for your life."
It was obvious that I needed to cancel the Christmas party scheduled to be held at our home later that evening.
Having been called out of town unexpectedly the previous week, I knew these ladies would understand. I wasn't ready for them, and my house surely wasn't "Christmas party ready."
"Jen, I deleted the email. What time does the ladies night out start tonight?"
I paused. It was the moment of truth. How should I respond? I certainly knew how I wanted to respond.
The Martha Stewart side of me taunted, "Just cancel. They will completely understand. You're not really going to invite them in when your tree isn't even trimmed, are you? I mean look around. One can only get so much done in five hours, and even I can't touch this mess."
But then I heard that still small voice whisper. Truthfully, it sounded more like a scream, and it shouted, "Jen, is your definition of hospitality always supposed to be convenient and comfortable? Do you remember the verse you often reference from 1 Peter 4:9: 'Show hospitality to one another without grumbling,' or what about Romans 12:13′s command, 'Seek to show hospitality or Practice hospitality.' Do you mean it? Why would you cancel tonight? These women are looking forward to gathering at your home."
It's as if I could hear the words from my very own "Welcome Home Hospitality" workshop speaking right at me, and honestly, I needed a bit of a finger wave right in the face at that moment.
Do I invite others into my home only when it's on my terms? Do I? Oh my, I think I might.
What's my purpose in hosting friends or even strangers? Is it to cultivate a spirit of welcome and encouragement; to minister to others, or is it self serving in any way?
I picked up the phone.
"Hey there. It starts at 7:00, but just get here when ever you can. I can't wait to see you."
The clean laundry repositioned itself from the down stairs sofa to my upstairs bedroom sofa. The suitcases were tucked away in a closet. Five large Rubbermaid containers sat patiently in a corner, giving a whole new meaning to interesting party decor, and I quickly prepared an easy, but delicious, cheeseball, alongside my famous Sour Cream Banana Cake (shh, it starts with cake mix, but no one will ever know when you bake them in cute, little pans.) When asked what they could bring, I decided to let them help. Sweet or salty. Whatever is easiest.
White lights sparkled on the tree, but not one ornament adorned its branches.
It was OK. I was OK. I had been released from the bondage of needing approval. It was going to be a great night.
A few hours later, women poured into my home, and that tight knot that I'd been feeling all day disappeared.
Why?
Because these ladies just wanted to share life together, and listen to each others stories. They wanted to laugh and talk and commiserate together. They didn't care if my tree trimming mimicked Martha's. In fact, I am quite certain I heard a few sighs of relief when they walked through my door because not one of us can do it all, yet sometimes we just need to be assured that it's true. We need to see another person's "bedlam" up close and personal to be certain.
And they saw mine up close alright.
In fact, as I started to apologize and explain the situation (yes, I broke my first rule of hospitality – never apologize for ones home, although this deemed a plausible exception to that rule), one precious friend decided, "Let's all help Jen finish her tree."
And so they did, and it was all as it should be. Friends helping friends. Tearing down masks. Climbing on chairs. Sharing Life together.
That night a few years ago, sparked so many thoughts about hospitality for me.
I often wonder why we make opening our home to others so difficult?
Yet, it is. It makes us nervous and tentative and self conscious.
Sweet friends. Hospitality isn't about creating a Pinterest perfect home. It's not even about the yummy food, although I love to create in the kitchen.
It's about just deciding, "Yes, I am available: when ever, for whomever."
This holiday season, let's not over think it. Let's not make hospitality something it's not. Let's not second guess our abilities. Let's just determine, "Yes, I will take that first step and extend an invitation."
Let's make ourselves available and then watch how this whole wonderful thing unfolds, OK?
One woman. One invitation. One opportunity for the Lord to do something simply amazing.
I'm passionate about encouraging and equipping women in opening their homes to others, but I know there are so many reservations. Maybe we can help break down the barriers and figure out some answers to why this is something so difficult for most of us.
Would you care to share in the comments? Did my story resonate?
Maybe you have a hospitality story you'd like to share (the good, bad and ugly stories are all welcome.). I sure would love to hear it.
Written by Jen, who shares her journey at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, along with her newly launched blog, 10 Minute Dinners.
:angel:
No More Fairytales: Faith is A New Kind of Family
Nov 30, 2012 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Psst. Guess what.
I don't want to tell you this.
But, it's true.
I wasn't able to celebrate the holidays the way we all dreamed for ourselves, as a child.
A momma.
A papa.
Aunts and uncles.
And a gaggle full of cousins.
Instead, my husband Eric and I packed up a 9×13 pan of scalloped potatoes, along with four bottles of Martinelli's apple cider into the back trunk, and buckled our three year old CJ and six year old TJ in the back seat.
I turned back to smile at the boys and said, "Isn't this going to be fun? We're going to Auntie Merrianne's and Uncle Roderick's for Thanksgiving!"
But, as we drove off into the cold November air onto the freeway that quiet afternoon, I wondered — What does Jesus think of all this? Celebrating with friends, instead of my family of origin?
Because the truth is, you see, Merrianne isn't really my sister. And Roderick isn't my brother-in-law. But, she's the closest thing I've come by for a big sister.
I met her when I was just twelve. Merrianne was my junior high Sunday School teacher, a recent college grad herself. She became the first person to disciple me. She was the first person to sit across from me in our tofu-sized dining table, sitting in a grimy, dimpled floor kitchen every Wednesday afternoon. It was a two-person book club really. We'd just talk through book topics and pray.
After I went away to college, we didn't spend that much time together. I was often busy. But, she always made it a point to touch base with me, even if it meant swapping voicemails. And when too much time passed between seeing each other, Merrianne would call to stop by. Even if it was just half an hour. She had the gift of hospitality and it wasn't limited to her home. She would come to mine.
Even though I trusted her with a lot of my secrets, I never told Merrianne the truth of how dysfunctional my family life was growing up, how truly lonely and afraid I was.
It was a family code that had always been understood, that I never wanted to break.
Never talk bad about your family. Ever.
The Message of Family
Like a sapling planted right under the downspout of a gutter, this message of family soaked down deep into the soil of my childhood, down to the roots. The fear and shame of coming from a broken family seeped into my faith. I never wanted to be seen as ungrateful or untrusting of God.
I thought having faith in God meant not allowing anything difficult to break me, to never truly be sad and to always love by taking care of everyone and everything. I somehow adopted the notion that walking by faith meant being strong enough to cover the cracks that made life painful and putting the past behind me.
But, what I was really doing was surviving. I was ignoring the past, rather than facing the truth of it.
Because facing the truth forces us to make extremely deep and difficult changes. It calls us to truly walk by faith — into the unknown. It requires courage because we don't know what life looks like on the other side of renovation. We only see the tearing down and we don't want to walk into thin air.
When we are truly walking by faith, we must face what we fear the most: we alone do not have the emotional resources to let go and embrace the reality of choices.
We realize we can't go it alone. We need others who can be God's heart to listen to us, God's voice to welcome us, and God's hands to open the door and hug us.
The old messages from our broken family of origins teach us that the safest place is to suffer alone. To keep silent and to never rock the boat. To never need — to keep doing the same thing and hope that it gets better.
But, while writing a book earlier this year, I stumbled unexpectedly into PTS — post-traumatic stress. My memories have been re-ignited and the truth of how much burden I've been carrying and the pressure of meeting others' expectations of me has been crushing.
That's why I called Merrianne. I knew I needed to confide in someone, to help with the kids. It's a risky and vulnerable position to be in. Expressing need and asking for help. It happens when you're used to surviving without family to count on.
But, I've learned that Jesus understands the loneliness and the isolation of family pain. Jesus understands when we keep it in, it separates us from the rest of the world and makes us feel like an outsider, like damaged goods.
A New Inheritance
Jesus has been showing me He cares and He was there.
Jesus tells me there is no shame coming from a broken family.
Jesus tells me He's always known about my emotional needs and now, He doesn't want me to hide from them.
Jesus also tells me the choice to joy and peace isn't always smooth. Because the truth wants to set us free from old patterns of coping with the unpleasant, especially if others are not happy with our choices.
So, for this Thanksgiving, I truly needed family to celebrate with. People who I felt safe with, who really loved me and my family, without any strings attached.
So, when my oldest asked me why we were going to Auntie Merrianne's, I tell him what I can. "This year, we're doing something different, sweetie."
Even so, I spent the rest of the ride feeling the guilt of unreconciled conflict in my growing-up history. And now that I'm a mom myself, I wished more than anything I could fix things up, so my children could be spared of any broken stories.
I wanted them to have something I never had.
A fairytale family.
But, that's not the family I inherited.
Instead, God has given me a new kind of family to pass onto my boys. A new inheritance.
It's a family that goes beyond what the holiday specials serve up on TV — beyond the Kodachrome images I've culled from storybook expectations throughout the years.
It's a family that Jesus talks about when He calls us brothers and sisters.
"While he was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers showed up.
They were outside trying to get a message to him.
Someone told Jesus, "Your mother and brothers are out here, wanting to speak with you."
Jesus didn't respond directly, but said, "Who do you think my mother and brothers are?"
He then stretched out his hand toward his disciples. "Look closely. These are my mother and brothers.
The person who obeys my heavenly Father's will is my brother and sister and mother."
~ Matthew 12:46-40
It's a family that goes deeper than blood. It is spiritual.
This is the new family I'm creating now with my husband and my two children — along with the spiritual family God's brought into my life.
To gain this new family, it's required me to let go of my fairtytale family — to open up and share, in order to let others in.
I am making the choice to break the old family code, to see if a new kind of family — the one I read about in the Scriptures — can come true for me.
I think of Jesus, how He spent his last meal with his spiritual family, confiding in the difficulty of the coming hours. These are faith friends to share a meal with, have a conversation, hug through some unspoken tears and a bless each other with a smile.
This is the spiritual family who can bring me comfort and acceptance — during times that are uncertain, when I feel uncertain.
This new kind of family is one that Jesus offers to you and me: God's family of faith.
Unashamed
It's hard to confess that holidays aren't perfect — especially when the truth for many of us, is that our earthly families have really hurt or neglected us.
It can feel embarrassing, when our families can't reflect the peace and unconditional love that we long for during the holiday season. Especially as Christians, we can feel tremendous pressure to reconcile broken relationships all in these last weeks of the year. But, reconciliation isn't always possible because it involves two parties. And so, even though we may forgive others, we still have to face the sadness of fractured relationships.
But, because of Jesus, we don't have to be imprisoned by this sorrow.
Although brokenness can't be erased on this side of heaven, Jesus can heal our hearts from the shame of hurtful family relationships.
Jesus Himself stands by us in the land of reality — calls us family — unashamed.
"So now Jesus and the ones he makes holy have the same Father.
That is why Jesus is not ashamed to call them his brothers and sisters."
~ Hebrews 2:11
Jesus whispers –
I know what you long for. You don't need a fairytale family to be part of mine.
Jesus is creating a new family with us — by bringing others to stand with us — unashamed — as new brothers and sisters.
A Whole New Way
If you're like me going through a difficult season of changes or facing a new reality, I'm sharing a bit of my story with you, in hopes of bringing you a word of encouragement, from one spiritual sister to another.
You might have a quiet holiday this year. But, you are far from being alone.
It may not look the way it used to, but it can still be peaceful — even though it is going to look different. Even though it is washed by the rush of tears.
You and I, after all, are not taking the easy way out. We are walking through the narrow gate, onto a path that Jesus is calling us to step forward onto.
I'm writing today's post to you, trusting that I'm not the only one who is walking through the holidays by faith.
Join me, as I make my journey through this month, asking God how I can connect with Him — and others in God's family of faith — in the coming weeks.
It might mean for you, as it has been for me, simply letting others know the holiday is going to be a quiet one when they ask.
I don't give a lot of details, but I let them know this Thanksgiving or Christmas is going to be tough.
It's going to be a quiet holiday. I need to break away from some dysfunctional family dynamics. I need to take care of me and my family this year.
I do get some prying questions, which are sincere and curious. I just smile softly and say, "Yeah, I can't talk about it. Thanks for understanding."
But, I have found to my surprise, that a lot of people's response has been opening up about their own family difficulties, and their own childhood dynamics still at play with their parents.
I've discovered that maybe I'm not unlike a lot of people — who are going through a difficult time during the holidays. And I don't feel so alone anymore.
Then, I tell them about Merrianne. How I got invited to spend Thanksgiving with her family and how peaceful it was to eat a piece of pie at leisure and offer some leftover potatoes for others to take home.
I tell them how my kids call her Auntie and her husband Uncle. I share how thankful I am for the spiritual family — how God makes up for our losses by blessing us with friends in the body of Christ, to become our sisters, our brothers — an extended family.
That's how I've explained why we're spending the holidays with friends who are family.
I tell them, "When God gave us Jesus, He also gave us a bigger family."
I've integrated this truth into the Christmas message with the kids this year: when God sent Jesus into the world, He not only gave us His Son to come into our hearts, He gave us a beautiful new family to add to ours.
God gave us a spiritual family, made of faith, so we can feel loved wherever we go and wherever we are in different seasons of life.
For some of you, you have been blessed by a family who has chosen faith in God, rather than fear and expectations, as the family code. Like Merrianne, you can bless someone else by sharing what you have, by inviting someone over in this Christmas season. It doesn't have to be the day of, if you have your special family traditions. You can invite them over before or even after. I wanted you to know, it makes a difference. You don't have to have a fairytale family either, to offer hospitality to someone this holiday season.
Give yourself the permission Jesus is offering to you. Embrace the spiritual family He longs to bring into your story, to make tomorrow different from yesterday.
In fact, that's what I'm thinking as I look into the future of creating new family traditions with my husband and children.
I see a whole new way of celebrating the holidays.
No more fairytales.
More faith.
More friends who become family.
~~~~~
How is God calling you to step out by faith — and celebrate the holidays differently – this year?
What has God's spiritual family meant to you?
Pull up a chair. It would be great to have you share. Click to comment.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
When You Need To Lower Your Expectations This Christmas
Dec 01, 2012 12:20 am | Kristen Strong
The air moved thick with anticipation of summer and our family's Disney vacation. Before the big departure day arrived, I asked one of my favorite Orlando girls, Stacey, what non-obvious essentials we should pack. She replied with many helpful ideas but told me no matter what I brought, definitely leave expectations of a perfectly magical vacation at home.
I took her words to heart. And lo and behold, once I left the pie-in-the-sky-expectations outside my heart's luggage, there was so much more room to relax and enjoy. Because real magic happens when you forget grand ideals and embrace reality. And the reality is family vacations will include cranky moods, tired behavior - and for us – an ugly virus. In spite of it all, our vacation was one of my most favorites, and we brought home triple helpings of good-for-the-heart family memories.
So now it's 6 months later, and the mountains outside my window play hide-and-seek behind whirling snow. I make a mental checklist of Christmas plans and feel my heart whirling as the pressure of creating a magical Christmas presses in. I want to bake cookies every Friday with the kids. I want to shop etsy.com and Hobby Lobby to find delightful decorations. I want to see the Nutcracker ballet and hear the Presbyterian choir perform Handel's Messiah and look at Christmas lights in every neighborhood.
I'm plumb worn out just thinking of it all when Stacey's words come back to me:
Leave expectations of a perfectly magical {Christmas} behind.
It's a message I needed last Christmas. The combination of an already stressful December with my desire to cram multiple memory making opportunities into the season culminated in me unleashing a massive fit. And on Christmas Eve of all days, I told my kids to shut up.
Nothing says Merry Christmas! like telling your kids to shut up.
Lord help me, I do not want to star in a repeat of that performance.
This I do know: While the season will hold many beautiful moments, it will also hold cranky kids hyped up on sugar cookies and fudge. It will hold tired parents who stay up too late assembling bicycles and stockings. It may even hold ornery company that gets a kick out of stirring up trouble.
So while I expect a disaster or two to invade the season, I am determined not to create an environment that makes it worse. We'll keep our favorite traditions while releasing the rest. After all, too much doing leaves little room for enjoying.
And if in the middle of the Christmas celebrations I find things headed south, I will pray "In the name of Jesus, change my mood, their moods, our motives. Help us see each other as Jesus does." And if I have to, I will go into my bathroom, close the door, and over an altar-sink ask God to redeem the day with His grace.
When it comes down to it, Christmas is blessedly simple. It's about a baby born in a humble manger, when Hope for the hopeless lit up the world on a dark, starry night. More than anything, I want my family to experience the joy and freedom that comes with this Gift. Because when that happens, we'll have all the Christmas magic we need.
Do you struggle with keeping your Christmas expectations down to earth? How do you reorient yourself with a realistic perspective? How do you focus first and foremost on Jesus?
Kristen Strong, wishing you a very Merry Christmas at Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Dec 02, 2012 12:20 am | Mary Carver
He says, "Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."
Psalm 46:10
:angel:
Great Joy
Dec 03, 2012 07:35 am | Jennifer
Fear not.
Good tidings of great joy.
Unto you.
A savior is born.
Christ the Lord.
He is where our joy comes from. From Him and Him alone. That is the joy of Christmas.
Offering you this special reminder of our joy this season, with this free PDF printable. Just click on the image and you will be able to open or download this image, that you can then print to use in your home this Christmas season.
In the top photo, I took this print and matted it in an 11″x14″ white mat and then framed it in a black wooden frame. The black outline of the print is 7.5″x9.5″, it should fit most frames or mats with an 8″x10″ opening. If you need more space, just keep a white border around the black outline.
Wishing you and your family a joyful Christmas season!
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
Beauty in Brokenness
Dec 04, 2012 12:20 am | Lisa Leonard
I talk often about how imperfect life is. Sometimes with all the beautiful photos we put up on our blogs, it's easy to think that someone's life is perfect or charmed. And while I'm surrounded by so many blessings, I'm also surrounded by so much brokenness.
I have a friend who's struggling with depression, another who is facing infertility, a friend who was in a horrible car accident and the marriage of some close friends is crumbling around them. Brokenness is everywhere.
Meanwhile in my own life I'm caring for a ten year old who still has to be diapered, fed and given medication three times a day. He is also tons of fun, super silly and the best snuggle bug, but the drain that comes from meeting his needs day in and day out is real. Not to mention all of the other responsibilities that fill up my day.
I look around me and I see all this brokenness—but what's even harder for me to look at is the brokenness in my own heart. I am self-centered, prone to fatigue, and sometimes discouraged. I think I'm doing just fine, being productive and full of energy, when all of the sudden I feel angry and resentful.
Isn't this the stuff of life? The comfort of the mundane can drive us to insanity. The joys of being a mother are overshadowed by feelings of failure. And the beauty of a new day is clouded by a long to-do list.
I am broken. I am needy. I can't fix myself. That's where I see the incredible beauty of God's grace. There is hope in that broken and needy place.
Psalm 34:18 The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
:angel: :angel:
Measuring in Inches
Dec 04, 2012 12:10 am | Andra Loy
My son overheard me asking my husband if we had enough gas to get to the zoo in Ostrava. So the whole drive he sat in the backseat, stressing about getting there on a low tank of gas and finally asked, "How many inches is it to Ostrava?"
I kept my snort to a quiet minimum and told him he could convert kilometers to inches when we got home. Then I added, "It's a LOT."
Why is it funny? Because it's ridiculous to measure something so far with such tiny measurements. But he's six years old. Kilometers (because we live in Europe) mean nothing to him. He's little and little inches make sense.
But isn't that exactly what we do? We view our life and our circumstances with our little measurements.
"How much longer do I have to put up with this?" "Our family was sick for three weeks in a row!"
"Only two months until Christmas – I'll never have the shopping done by then."
"Only three people responded to my invitation."
And how does our Father measure? The distance from star to star, eternity. And in the same way as measuring 36 kilometers with inches, it's ridiculous to measure our lives, our circumstances, without using eternal measurements. How much less complicated would it be (although mind-blowing)(which is actually a good, fun thing) for my son to use kilometers? It takes no genius to see that the less math we have to use, the easier and simpler the issue.
Yet why does using kilometers take less math? Because the distance to the zoo is already measured in kilometers, not inches. And our lives are already measured, originally conceived and created on the eternal level.
When we try to convert our issues into minutes, days, years – numbers – we end up with bloated perspective (like one million, four hundred and seventy two thousand, three hundred and twenty two inches to the zoo). This translates into impatience, stress, worry, and depression.
We must view life in the light of eternity and measure our days with eternal measurements. "Why has God allowed this issue in my life?" "What is God trying to teach me?" "What is the important thing I need to focus on right now?" "These people in my life were hand-picked by God for me to encourage and minister to; how can I do that?" These are not the ridiculous questions. These questions measure in God's kilometers.
by Andra (I Need a Napkin)
:angel: :angel:
5 Steps to Forgiving Yourself
Dec 05, 2012 12:20 am | Sarah Markley
"I'm just so stupid!!" One of my daughters face-palms herself after a mistake she's made. And I'll admit, it's a big one.
"No you aren't. You just made a poor choice." I go to her, gather her and do my best to infuse truth into her heart and somehow layer it over the lies that have begun to reside there.
I have never told her she is stupid or bad or unlovable. To the contrary. I try to combat those outside influences each day of their lives.
You know you're amazing.
You are so smart.
You've done your best, that's all you can do!
But even my girls are prime examples of just how hard we are on ourselves.
My 10 year old can run 3 good barrel runs but if she disqualifies on her fourth, she's in tears. My 6 year old can stop the attempted goals for a whole soccer game but if she lets one sneak through as goalie, she can't seem to forgive herself.
Why is it so hard? And why are we so hard on ourselves?
As adults we've seen so much more in our own lives worth forgiving then letting soccer goals squeak by or going off course in a barrel race. We've made big bad poor choices that really do affect our own hearts and the lives of others.
We've betrayed people and spouses and we've lied to people that didn't deserve to be lied to. We've stolen and held anger close and we've been bitter. We've also simply made big, life-altering but unavoidable mistakes that have hurt and tripped others and ourselves.
As adults, we've done a lot of things over our lifetimes that truly deserve a face-palm.
Probably the most common question I hear when you tell me your stories is this one:
How did you learn to forgive yourself?
I'm not a step-by-step formula girl, but I've tried to drill it down to five steps, more or less, that have helped me come from a place of understanding the mistakes I've made to being able to forgive myself. {And I've made a few big ones in my time.}
1. Take responsibility for what is yours but not for what is not yours. Here's what I mean. To begin to forgive ourselves we must realize that we actually did do something stupid or silly or wrong or unthoughtful. We have to take responsibility for our actions and behaviors that led us to the place. But we also shouldn't take responsibility for the mistakes and wrongs of others. If my 1st grader gets in a tussle on the playground and screams angrily at another kid, she should take responsibility for what she has done wrong, but not for the actions of the other child. Those of us who are hard on ourselves often take too much blame and we take blame that is not ours.
2. Start speaking the truth. The truth is, you've already been forgiven. The truth is, your mistakes do not define you. The truth is, you are not alone. The truth is, the grace and forgiveness of God are bigger than all of us and our mistakes combined. The truth is, God has deemed us worthy of His forgiveness. When we begin to speak these things we also begin to believe them. And the truth is, your journey to forgiving yourself is one that God with travel with you each step of the way.
3. Embrace grace. Bask in it. Observe it in action. Watch for it. Become an expert in it so you can recognize it when you see it. Begin receiving it from others if you don't. Those of us who are hard on ourselves are also hard recipients of grace. We don't accept it from ourselves (it's why we are on this journey) and often we don't accept it from others.
4. Forgive others. One of the best ways I know how to begin doing something is to practice it. If we practice forgiving one another, the forgiving of our own mistakes comes all the quicker.
5. Let others speak the truth into your life when you forget it. Sometimes we need good, objective truth-speakers in our lives to help remind us that we have already been forgiven. Maybe it is a good friend, a mentor, a counselor or a fellow {in}courage community member. None of us can journey on our own, ever, so even in this it is good to have solid, strong people around us to tell us that we are worthy of forgiveness. And to tell us once in awhile that:
we are amazing,
we are smart,
and we've done the best we can.
Do you have trouble forgiving yourself? What things have helped you?
:angel:
Your Most Destructive Thought
Dec 06, 2012 12:20 am | Jessica Turner
photo by Emily Freeman
Are you someone who thinks a lot about all you have to get done – this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow?
I am.
If I'm really honest with you, I often live gripped by the stress of what I have to do.
To do lists litter my life.
They are suffocating me.
Tell me I am not alone.
Right now I am sitting in a coffee shop, trying to bang out these words for you, but my mind keeps getting distracted by the items waiting for me at home, as well as what needs to be accomplished at work tomorrow.
This fall I had the opportunity to attend a few Women of Faith conferences. At one of the events, Christine Caine said that our most destructive thought is tomorrow.
Her words hit me to the core.
And in this season of reflection the of God of the universe coming to earth as a baby, I can't help but be challenged to slow down and focus on what is in front of me today.
He did.
Scripture says, do not worry about tomorrow. Today has enough trouble of its own.
Will you pray with me?
Lord, we are so distracted. Help us to live focused on what you have in front of us TODAY. We want to live a life of fruit and not become destructive. Give us clarity, purpose and intention to do what it is you have for us, in this moment, today. Amen.
:angel: :angel:
Finding Christ in the Chaos
Dec 06, 2012 12:10 am | tanya @ truthinweakness
I was running late that Sunday morning, and my husband wasn't able to join us for church. That meant the responsibility to get my son checked in on the first floor, then dropped off at his classroom at the end of the second floor, was all going to fall on me. Running late is stressful enough, but the thought of bearing all that rushing around on my own caught up with me before we left the house, and it spilled out in an impatient verbal crescendo.
My son and I spent the 30-minute drive listening only to the pouring rain instead of the radio. Highly unusual for this music lover, but I was wound up and seriously needed to chill. I apologized to him for surrendering to my flesh, instead of Jesus. But in light of our late departure, and the task still at hand, my heart, mind, and body remained in quite a frenzy.
We pulled into the parking lot just minutes before church started, trudged through the rain, and got my son checked in. Then, half way up the steps, he announced that he had to use the bathroom. Unfortunately, there isn't one on the second floor, so back down the steps we went. And because my heels weren't made for hiking, I almost tripped my way down the steps. Close call.
While he was in the bathroom, I took my phone out of my pocked and sighed when I saw that it was 11:04. Four minutes into worship already, and I still had a ways to go.
When he was done, we hiked back up to the second floor (this time more heel wise), and I dropped him off. Then I walked back down the stairs, down the hallway, across the short outdoor walkway to the other building {noticing I was so late that the greeters had already left}, down the long corridor, around the corner to the next hallway {did I mention I go to a large church?}, around yet another corner, and through the lobby toward the entrance. All at a brisk pace. By the time I stepped through the doors and into the worship center, I felt like I had run a marathon.
Surrounded by souls engaged in heart-felt praise and worship, I found my seat like a driver going 60mph who had just spotted the stop sign ahead.
Slam on breaks.
Screeching halt.
Worship mode: GO!
Frazzled and exhausted, I knew there was no way I could flip that impossible switch. Then I remembered something our pastor shared recently. He told us that the name, Noah, means rest.
In the middle of chaos.
So I thought, "Okay, somehow I can find Rest here."
I longed to find Christ amidst my chaos and draw my own soul to worship. But how? . . .
As that thought wandered through my mind, these words began to ascend around me:
O the blood of Jesus washes me.
Yes, the blood it is my victory . . .
And then I knew.
That was the "how" for finding Christ in my chaos. God reminded me that messy morning that the blood of Christ holds the power to worship Him in the middle of my mess – not me! Not a smooth Sunday morning, not tidy life circumstances.
So be encouraged, friend. We're not dependent on our hearts, minds, or bodies feeling in a state of worship – to worship. In fact, our ability to worship isn't dependent on us at all. We're dependent only on the blood of Christ.
It alone IS our victory.
By Tanya, Truth in Weakness
:angel: :angel:
Redeeming Home
Dec 05, 2012 04:04 pm | Kristen Welch
He bangs around in the attic for more than an hour and comes out with insulation in his hair. The air conditioner service man has been working on the ducts that run to our master bedroom, trying to rework the system that leaves the room 10 degrees warmer than the rest of the house.
It's winter and it's toasty, but not from the fire in the belly of the fireplace, it's a Texas winter, the only kind I know. We run our air most months of the year down in these parts.
But the lights from my tree twinkle and the stocking are hung over the unlit fire. We pretend there's a chill in the air and don't let it bother us much.
He calls, "Miss?" At least 10 years younger than my 40 year old body, I answer. Before he gives me the news, he says, "You're a Christian."
It's not a question or accusation, it's a fact. I wonder for a minute at his declaration. I have known this man face-to-face for less time than it takes to answer my front door and open the attic. I marvel at his estimation of me. He must see my question mark face and so he says: "It's your home. It tells the Jesus story."
I see the hand towels at the stove, the God is Good canvas on the wall, the Nativity on the entry table, the family mission statement on the mantel and then Redeemed Christmas pillow on the couch.
I smile wide.
Is there ever a greater compliment to a home?
We talk for over thirty minutes about Jesus, his gift to us at Christmas, about our work in Africa and mostly about redemption. He finishes up his work, covered under warranty and I can't remember the last time I had a better guest in my home.
My floors are dirty, counters cluttered, table sticky. But a stranger felt God in my house and I can't think of a better gift this season.
written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
This month find the Redeemed Christmas Kitchen Accessory Set on Sale at DaySpring! The set includes tea towels, apron and potholders.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Giving yourself away
Dec 07, 2012 12:20 am | Robin Dance
One of my favorite things to do is to gift someone I love with something I know they'll love:
Surcies, little love gifts, the value of which is seeded in the thoughtfulness of the gift, not its pricetag. It's why giving a giftcard or cash is s o v e r y h a r d; for me, gift-giving is an intimate, personal expression of my relationship with the recipient and not just anything will do. Overall, gift giving is the least of my love languages because if you don't give to me (or I don't give to you) it doesn't mean I'll feel unloved or I don't care or love you; in my crazy head, Nothing itself is better than a hollow something (am I even making sense??).
One of my least favorite things to do is to give out of obligation or because a day on the calendar mandates it.
This is the part of the Christmas season I struggle with, excess to those who don't need a thing and a culture that shouts bigger is better and more is never enough. Even in Christian circles, lovies.
I admire those who are smart enough, crazy enough, restrained enough or counter-culture enough to disassociate gift-giving with Christmas within their family, and instead give to those who have materially little to nothing.
I do hope you hear me: I'm not saying that Christmas gift-giving to family and friends is bad or wrong; but based on the time invested in shopping and the amount of money spent from Black Friday through Christmas Eve, sometimes our focus is skewed. Again, even in Christian circles.
It's simple and yet so complicated. We give because God gave.
Thinking on Jesus' humble, magnificent, unimaginably difficult, astonishing birth stills my soul's thrashing during the Christmas Season and helps me to align giving with joy–
In the gift of Christ's life, we can know God intimately and personally (John 14: 6-7). In Him, we receive forgiveness and redemption (Ephesians 1:7-10) and every spiritual blessing (Ephesians 1:3). And in Christ, we receive salvation and eternal life (John 3:16-17).
When giving is initiated and motivated by love for God, it changes everything.
I suppose that's why handmades, homemades and re-mades are my favorite–they're birthed in and from thought, intention, time...and love.
Anything your two little hands produce for me, I will love and appreciate beyond expressable words. And another, perhaps less-often-thought-of item that falls into this category is what I call re-mades; think re-gifting but instead of something given to you that you don't care for, it's something you already own that means a lot to you; when you gift it, you're in essence giving a tiny piece of your heart. For example, my friend Amy collects camels; when we were saying our good-byes prior to my out-of-state move, she gave me a tiny one from her collection as a remembrance. Another dear friend, Erin, knew I collected elephants and gave me a small one of hers for the same reason. Book re-mades are among the best, especially when it contains personal notes in the margins. Anyone who reads one of my marked up books no longer wonders what I'm really thinking.
Gifts from your hands and heart is a small way of giving yourself as a gift.
Please join us this month in sharing your stories and ideas for handmades, homemades and remades ~
Have you posted a tutorial about how to make a meaningful craft or DIY project others might enjoy giving to others?
Do you have a time-treasured recipe for special seasonal treats others are begging for each year?
Would you be willing to share a story (in comments or by linking a new or old blog post) about a special gift you've given or received?
As I'm writing this post, it's surprising to me to realize how often I've written about special gifts–the wonderful idea I had for my husband's 40th birthday, the last gift from my father (though we didn't realize it would be at the time)...and a lavish, desperately-needed gift from God.
PLEASE share your stories and ideas. I'll leave the linky thingamajig open til Christmas Eve, and if you don't have a blog, please share in the comments. The recipe I'm linking is from my mother-in-law: homemade butter mints are fancy, delicious, melt-in-your-mouth sugared art.
With joy by Robin Dance
:angel:
For the Tangles In Your Story
Dec 08, 2012 12:20 am | Kristen Welch
As a young girl, a friend taught me to cross stitch. I loved seeing her beautiful creations and I quickly learned it takes a lot of little x's to make a picture. I didn't love the tedious sewing work, but I was eager to create something. I would count the rows and put one X after another. My work wasn't neat, my knots were bumpy and my stitches imperfect and when I turned my fabric over, the backside looked like a tangled mess.
Sort of like the story of my life.
When I was in the 8th grade, I was in a peer program in my public school. The peer program matched older students with younger ones. I was paired with a high risk 5th grader.
Her name was Tiffany. And she changed my life. Or at least the way I viewed my life.
I grew up in a sheltered home. I had loving parents and a great church. My biggest concern was complexion outbreaks.
I'll never forget the day I met Tiffany. The school counselor introduced us. I knew she came from a tough environment, but I don't think I even knew what that meant. When she walked through the door, my first impression was, "this is what poor looks like." Her clothes were dirty and threadbare. She wore a mismatched headband in her tangled hair. She looked sad. And so much older than she should. She also was tall for her age, and appeared to be just a size under me.
Our first meeting was awkward. The second time, we talked. I will never forget what she told me. "My mom ran off last year. She left me with her ex-boyfriend. It's just me and him and he's mean to me."
I didn't know what to say, so I hugged her.
I still remember what I felt in that tiny room. I wanted to help Tiffany. I had never met a desperate child before. It was the first time my heart broke for someone other than myself.
Through tears, I told my mom and sister Tiffany's story at home that night. They agreed that we had to do something. My sister and I filled 3 huge bags with clothes and shoes. I remember going through my costume jewelry and picking out some of my favorite things for her.
I had never given anyone something of mine before. And it felt good. Handing my used things to a flabbergasted, grateful girl was a defining moment for me. We both cried and hugged. I saw the hope in her eyes.
I couldn't wait to see her in new clothes.
But I never did. The next time we were supposed to meet, she was gone. The counselor explained that her stepfather withdrew her from school. No contact information. No forwarding address. I tried to explain what she told me. The counselor patted me on the shoulder and gave me the name of a new student to meet with.
I never heard another word about her, but I never forgot Tiffany.
My life went on much the same, but I was different. I also struggled to make sense of why I couldn't have helped Tiffany more. Every time I thought of her, I said a quick prayer.
Five years later, I was a freshman in college 200 miles from home. I had just landed a coveted job as a tutor for The Texas Baptist Home for Children. It paid $12.00 an hour, a fortune for a new college student.
I got into the swing of tutoring these troubled kids after my classes. The State of Texas had removed them from their homes for various reasons. I mainly tutored elementary kids.
I came in one day, feeling down. I was dealing with the normal anxieties of young adult life. And I felt alone, away from home for the first time and questioning my purpose.
A new student had been assigned to me. Her name was Tiffany.
It took a few minutes of us staring across the table at each other, getting acquainted. And then we jumped up and hugged.
A hundred questions tumbled out of my mouth. She filled in the years since we'd last seen each other. The State had removed her two years before. She was safe. Happy. And she still carried a piece of the jewelry I had given her. There was hope in her eyes.
Our reunion was brief because Tiffany was permanently placed into a home. A real home.
His eye in on the sparrow....He knew I would meet Tiffany again one day. He had woven the tapestry of our lives together.
Thirty years later, the back of my tapestry still looks a little messy and tangled. I fret and question and worry myself into knots.
But I'm reminded He sees each of us and He is weaving a beautiful story with our lives. We don't always understand the mess, the trials, the mundane, but He is there. Sometimes He is quiet like the gentle love of a friend, other times, He is loud, like the earthquake of an unexpected miracle.
He is always working in us and through us and in the end, it doesn't matter how we get there, it's that we get there.
If you are holding pieces today, or trying to unwind tangles in your life, offer it to Him. God fits the broken pieces together and is the ultimate recycler of our tangled story. For his glory.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
The Good Side Of Conflict
Dec 10, 2012 12:20 am | Lysa
When I was in my early twenties, there was nothing I disliked more than conflict. I won't use the tired cliché that I avoided it like the plague. But, since I just used it anyhow, I'll admit I tried to navigate around conflict at any cost. Especially at the holidays. I mean who wants to address issues in between bites of Grandma's fudge and Aunt Jane's turkey casserole?
I was a 'stuff it and smile' kind of girl. The problem with pretending to be fine when you're really not, is all that pent up steam will eventually come out. And if you've ever held your hand too close to steam, you know how it can burn.
A much healthier approach to the inevitable conflicts we all must deal with during holidays and every day is to face the issue head on with grace and humility having asked ourselves one very crucial question. This question is so crucial that might I dare say not asking it could lead to extreme conflict escalation rather than relationship restoration.
So, what's this crucial question?
Am I trying to prove or improve? That's the question. In other words, is my desire in this conflict to prove that I am right or to improve the relationship at hand?
When I try to prove I am right, I use the circumstances of the conflict as an arsenal to attack the other person. I come armed with past hurts and offenses ready to state my case. I'm tempted to tear down the other person. I react from a place of hurt and anger and can often say things I later regret.
On the other hand, when my desire is to improve the relationship, I seek to understand where the other person is coming from and I care enough about the relationship to fight for it rather than against it. Instead of reacting out of anger, I pause and let the Holy Spirit interrupt my first impulses. I tackle the issues, not the person.
Here are some great questions to ask when we're dealing with conflict out of a desire to improve a relationship:
• Can you help me understand why you feel this way?
• Why don't we both agree to stick to the issue at hand and not pull in past issues?
• What is your desired outcome in this situation?
• How can we meet in the middle on this issue?
My husband I have renamed what we used to call "fights." We now call them "growth opportunities." And the more we've been practicing these principles, the less conflicts we've been having.
But I won't tie this devotion up in a neat holiday bow and end all "cheerio." While Art and I are doing great right now and have had very few "growth opportunities" lately, conflicts with others seem to always be around the corner. So please hear my heart, I'm not saying all of this is easy. Just this week I've had to tackle some growth opportunities that made me feel like I had fire crackers burning through my veins.
Maybe you can relate.
What I will say is that it's possible to let those conflicts lead us to better places in our relationships. Improved places. And that is the good side of conflict.
By Lysa TerKeurst
In Lysa's new book, Unglued, she shares personal experiences and scriptural wisdom to help us make right, godly and healthy decisions with our reactions. Click here to order your copy today!
:angel:
Six Questions That Might Just Change a Life
Dec 11, 2012 12:10 am | Kati Gibson
Perhaps time isn't the enemy – maybe it's how we use it.
In a world of spinning to do lists, places to go, things to plan, and people to love — how do we
remember the most important person of all?
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is,
seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you
died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears,
then you also will appear with him in glory. ~ The Apostle Paul, Colossians 3:1-4 NIV
Perhaps we're designed to do it together.
At the breakfast table, we gather. Slurping milk from bowls of cereal, crunching granola, asking
questions.
"What has God been teaching you?"
"Who have you been loving on, investing in, or encouraging?"
"Who have you been praying for? "
"What have you learned from someone?"
"Do you have any news to share about the Christians around the world?"
"How can I help you?"
And in this place — at home, with family around the table. With friends holding cups of coffee –
it's safe here.
It's safe to even say –
"I have no idea. I'm just barely keeping my own head above water."
Then we walk together. We walk the roads together until we are not only surviving but truly
living. Possibly even carrying each others burdens?
What if we all stopped for just for a moment and asked.
Yes, ask as we gather for meals with our family — of course. But what about you and I — them and they?
Through talking,
we're loving
learning
teaching
educating
encouraging
helping.
Maybe this would do so much more for us than talking about last nights TV show or even
possibly the weather?
Maybe this simple little thing could start a revolution.
Carry each others burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. ~ Galatians 6 NIV, The Apostle Paul
I thank my God every time I remember you. ~ Philippians 1 NIV, The Apostle Paul written along side his friend, Timothy
A friend loves at all times. ~ Proverbs 17 NIV, King Solomon
The beauty of it all, friends? If six are too many – we can always start with one. {and live}
In the words of Jude, a servant of Christ Jesus and a brother of James – Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance.
{Lovingly living} along side you, in humbleness & Grace ~
Kati at Our Glorious Days ; )
:angel: :angel:
A Hijacked Hat Party
Dec 10, 2012 11:00 pm | Amber Haines
A few years ago, Seth and I hosted what we called an Old Man's Hat Party, alluding to the nursery rhyme: Christmas is coming. The goose is getting fat. Please put a penny in the old man's hat. It was absolutely some of the most fun we've ever had, with the spread of food and hot drinks – our friends from several circles joining in one boisterous room. We had placed a hat by the back door, and as our friends joined us, they put money in the hat and then wrote their favorite charity down on a small piece of paper. At the end of the night we drew three charities and got to hear about the good works of each, organizations like Kidmia, Mercy House, and 99 Balloons. After hearing and secretly rooting for one, we drew one final time to decide who got all the money. This year we knew we had to do it again and wanted to shift the focus even more to a time of worship. I had planned to move most of our furniture out of the way and not worry so much with the food spread. We sent an invitation to about 80 people, but as it got closer to time and our little one, Titus, became more ill, I became overwhelmed and sent out sad word that we would be canceling the party. Pure Charity was to sponsor it this time, and I was broken-hearted to not have all our friends in one room doing such good together for those in need, but somehow I knew I couldn't handle it all. I struggled but finally felt resolved to not overdo our family.
The truth is that we're worn out from worry and hospital stays, from ministry and so much output without stopping to take nourishment in. We may have been inviting so many over because we hadn't worshipped together since Titus' immune issues came up. One always has to stay home with the baby.
So when our dear friend texted and asked for the information to get into our evite account, I knew I smelled a rat. I knew they were up to something that involved calling US the needy ones, and I didn't like it one bit.
Our friends, our Jesus family, they came to a cancelled party at our friend's home, and the house was loud with laughing, and there was a table of food, and a record player sent the music out until we gathered quietly together and sang such praise to Jesus. I could have been on my face. I could have disappeared, been like dust under the couch. I was so small.
My girlfriend who hosted corrected my begging when I had asked them not to do it. She assured me that it wasn't about us, the hat by the door to help cover our doctor bills. When we prayed together for Titus, we began with a silence that said nothing but holy, holy, holy, then we whispered Titus' name, and we said words like JOY and healing. We proclaimed the goodness of the LORD even when we didn't understand our circumstance.
Something happened in me because of these friends that hasn't happened in a long time. When I first heard the gospel, I knew I was starving for righteousness with no way to fill myself. This night, the night of the Hijacked Hat Party, I felt it again: my nothingness, the hunger and then the filling, Jesus in the bread, the words read over our ears. How little we have to offer, how tiny we float about in this universe, but then how one hands you an envelope like a payment for work you never did.
I associated myself with the poor, not from the position of giver but rather as receiver, and it hurt and it healed. Suffering, in all its varying degrees, seems to work that way, intertwining wholeness with brokenness.
Worshipping among friends, I looked up to one raising his hands, the one who had lost his daughter. I felt that I looked on ones who reflected Jesus. I felt the compassion of Christ to us all, how He took such poor position on our behalf. I considered it all joy, felt Christmastime in my bones. What an honor it is, church, to be among those who take and eat of such lavishness, how absurd to receive such love.
post by Amber C Haines
:angel: :angel:
Why You Really Can Be Confident
Dec 12, 2012 12:20 am | Holley Gerth
photo credit:clever cupcakes
My husband holds the iphone in his hand and reads ancient words still alive today. I hold my hand up for him to pause. "Wait," I say, "Read that part again." I think in my non-morning person fogginess I must have heard it wrong.
He repeats, "Faith is confidence...." {Heb. 11:1}
Huh.
I heard right after all.
But those words made me wonder what I hadn't been hearing at all, for all my life.
Of course faith is the secret of confidence.
Why had I never made the connection before?
I tend to think of faith as external while confidence comes from within.
But isn't that where faith really comes from too? From our hearts and the One who dwells within them?
I sit back on the couch, rest my head on my pajama-pant-covered legs, sip my coffee.
It feels like a big moment. Because this changes everything.
It means not only can I be confident but also if it's part of faith then I'm commanded to be confident.
Confidence isn't prideful. In the Kingdom, it's actually a synonym for humility. Because the very act of faith means bowing our hearts to another. And only the humble can do so.
I can be confident.
You can be confident.
We can walk through this world with heads and hearts held high as Daughters of the King {who wear pajama pants and don't get up on time and who are beautifully messy inside and out}.
Yes, just as we are.
Will you join me, sisters?
Let's say together that we will dare to live with faith, confidence and joy.
Right here. Right now...
And forever.
– Holley Gerth, author of You're Already Amazing
:angel:
Ripped Jeans & Honest Friends
Dec 13, 2012 12:20 am | Mary Carver
Saying goodbye to summer is never hard for me. After all, the advent of fall weather means I can put away my capri pants, flip flops and [let's be honest] my razor. And it means I can pull out my comfiest sweaters and favorite jeans. That, of course, can be good and bad.
The bad part of jeans weather reared its ugly head last week. No pun intended.
Though I had "buy new jeans" on my to-do list (along with "balance checkbook," "trim nails" and "organize scrapbooking stuff"), I hadn't gotten around to it. Instead, I was making do with two pairs of jeans (neither of which fit well), my weekly wardrobe was depending on a precarious schedule of washing, drying and repeated wearing.
I woke up on a Tuesday morning, grabbed the jeans draped over the foot of my bed and pulled them on. I'd worn them the day before as I ran errands, attended a meeting and laughed with friends over a Chinese dinner. So imagine my surprise when I smoothed my shirt down around my hips and discovered A HUGE HOLE IN THE BACK OF MY JEANS!
I wore those jeans. In public. All day long. And nobody said a word.
After chucking the ruined jeans in the trash and pulling my other pair out of the dryer, I posted about this mortifying discovery on Facebook. I said, "To preserve my dignity and my sanity, I'm assuming that this tear just occurred yesterday and NOBODY NOTICED. Whatever you do, please do not correct these assumptions!"
This, of course, led to a humorous discussion and many kind reassurances from friends who actually have no idea if I've been walking around with holey jeans for weeks (and one promise from a friend who did see me the day before but didn't notice the giant rip between my pockets).
Later, I thought about how desperately I wanted to believe that nobody noticed that tear. And I thought about how I sometimes react the same way to mistakes I make or struggles I can't seem to beat.
Surely they didn't notice what I said . . .
Nobody noticed that I messed up again, right?
I'm just going to pretend like that didn't happen!
Been there? Done that? I have. Many times. It's as if, when I come face to face with a sin or struggle, I revert to childhood, stick my fingers in my ears and sing, "Lalala! I can't hear you!" If I act like I don't know about the problem, after all, maybe everyone else will play along.
But while I want my friends to reassure me that nobody noticed the rip in my jeans (or salad dressing on my shirt or huge zit on my chin), I don't really want them to play along when I try to hide and ignore mistakes or struggles.
It's why I'm thankful for friends who say things like, "Do you think you need to talk to someone about that?" or "Maybe you should try journaling about that . . ." or "I'm not sure that she meant it the way you heard it."
As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.
~ Proverbs 27:17
Do you have friends like that? Are you a friend like that?
:angel: :angel:
To Remember Who You Are
Dec 13, 2012 12:10 am | lynne
I want to rush in and fix it, to step in and fight my son's battle for him – if necessary, knock some heads together.
"No," my husband says, "don't do it."
He looks in my eyes straight. Not blinking. Deep into the places the mother bear no longer slumbers, who has awakened to protect, to maim, to defend.
"We will support him from beside, from a position of strength," my husband says, "not rush ahead of him, putting him in a position of weakness."
He says it quietly, but there is nothing quiet about what is going on inside my heart. I struggle with this truth. Gone are the days when I held my son's hand to keep him from running across the street. Gone are the days when I entered a new classroom to meet the teacher first, while he followed cautiously behind.
At seventeen, our son stands on the brink of adulthood.
We talk about options, the three of us, he, the decision maker, we, now, the advisors.
"You could try this," we say, "or this."
"What do you think of this idea?"
"Are you prepared for this outcome?"
"What will you do if this happens?"
Our son wrestles – with himself, his needs, his pain, his boundaries, and I discover once again what every mother knows– you can cut the umbilical cord, but still be heavy with child.
For three days we talk and struggle into the night, eyes bleary, hearts worn, and darkness, darkness that is always present in the place of death, the last gasp of a dream, the withering of expectations.
I am powerless to put a bandage on his owie and kiss it better. Finally he decides.
"This is what I'm going to do," he says, and formulates a plan.
No longer bent. No longer confused. He sprawls out on the bed, relaxed, a smile on his face. He looks five thousand pounds lighter.
"What happened?" I ask.
"I remember who I am," he says.
I remember who I am. He says it simple, like it is an easy conclusion, but I know people who are three times his age who have never had the courage to declare who they are.
And who they are not.
I am reminded of a story in the book of beginnings, in Genesis 32:22-31, of a man who wrestles. He wrestles in the darkness with God, with his past, and with himself and when the night of wrestling is done, he discovers his true name.
Sometimes we can only find our true selves in the wrestling dark places. And when we discover who we are, we know what to do.
"I remember who I am," my son says and looking at him, I remember who I am too.
I am the mother of a boy becoming a man.
By Lynne Hartke, at Teeter Tottering
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Redeeming Christmas
Dec 15, 2012 08:42 am | Kristen Welch
"Momma? Christmas is Jesus's birthday, right?" She asks as we open the box that holds the new pillow, a gift from Dayspring to ou tight.
She knows the answer. I have given the same answer over and over.
She jumps up and starts searching our Christmas tree for the reminder and proclaims, "We need more Jesus on our tree!"
She's right. We always need more of Him.
We light Advent candles and hide baby Jesus.
Then we seek Him.
My kids search, we offer clues. We pepper our dinner time with reminders of the manger and questions about the foretelling.
It's hard, redeeming Christmas. It's difficult to find baby Jesus in Christmas these days. This season has become more about stuff and such and He is crowded out of His own day with each passing year.
I'm on the hunt for an advent conspiracy. I want to take back Christmas from our mixed up world who celebrates a day without The Celebrated One. I hope you'll join me.
If you are sharing about the Redeemed Christmas Line this month, link up below!
:angel: :angel:
Encouragement for the Encourager
Dec 15, 2012 12:20 am | Dawn Camp
Last month I shared a project my daughter and I've begun, a wild promise to pen words of encouragement to readers unknown. Your comments touched me deeply: some brought a smile, others made me cry. I took the anonymous love letter pictured in that post—my first—and left it on a bookstore shelf tucked inside a copy of Holley's book You're Already Amazing, a good read for someone in need of uplifting words.
Last night my daughter and I led a women's meeting at church and told a group that ranged from 12 to 70+ years old about the love letter project. We showed the MoreLoveLetters.com website and watched the video (after passing around a box of Kleenex) and then discussed the power of words penned and notes cherished.
Our pastor's wife, who underwent major and life-threatening surgery this summer, carries two letters enfolded between the pages of her Bible, love notes composed by teen girls and sent when she needed them most. One lady, whose father recently passed on, treasures a box of letters written between the young man and woman who would later become her parents. A woman, recently ill, told how it thrilled her heart to receive a get-well card passed around and signed at church and then given to her.
Words strung together with pen and ink instead of keyboard and screen are far from obsolete, all the more valuable because the author consciously chooses to take time to form them, to search the physical address book instead of auto-filling the "to" line in the email field.
In our group, the younger generation treasures written notes as much as the older.
After talking, we brought out a basket of cards, pens, colored markers, stickers, etc. and began to write. Some ladies wrote anonymous letters to be left for strangers. Other cards were passed around and signed by all, based on prayer needs within the church.
One of my best friends, who produced a small stack of anonymous love letters, told me she hadn't written that much in years.
I had no idea that I would become the girl who needed encouragement in the days that followed last month's post. Ironically, writing the words you need to hear, to be read by someone else, heals you.
I left a love letter anonymously in a public place today. It didn't happen in a moment when I suddenly remembered that it sat in a pocket of my purse. It was in a moment when I felt so low—so in need of encouragement myself—that I remembered what I held and decided to set it free.
Your words of encouragement hold a power you may never realize. Release them, whether scrawled on a lovely card, a piece of notebook paper, or typed in a comment box.
Do you have a story of a special card or letter that you've saved, or one that you received when you needed it most?
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel: :angel:
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18
Our hearts are heavy, and our prayers are with everyone affected by the tragedy in Connecticut.
:angel:
Quiet.
Dec 17, 2012 12:04 am | Arianne
Today starts a new week. But there's something in the air. Can you feel it? The deep breath that is needed today. Even if it's still a deep sigh.
I find it hard to really talk about anything else at the moment, but I don't want to linger in the wrong spot. I don't want to hover over fear, or shake my fist at the sky or curl up in a ball. I just want to love on people. I want to pray. And I want to be quiet.
One of the lovely women I call friend and colleague lives in Newtown, CT. Her name is Jamie and she is the editor of Simple Homeschool and is talking today about what living in Newtown is really like. I encourage you to read her words and to see today as a fresh day, a fresh word and a moment of quiet.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God."
– Matthew 5: 3-9
***
By Arianne, of To Think Is To Create
:angel:
When "Less" Really Is "More"
New Normal
Dec 18, 2012 12:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
A prayer is answered.
Maybe a long awaited prayer that you can't remember a time you weren't asking the Lord to intervene.
Or He's answered the under-your-breath request in a flash. Maybe before you said 'Amen.'
Either way, somewhere inside, a relieved voice says, 'Finally, back on track.'
Where are you headed? Normal.
The waiting is over. Your life can finally get back to the 'normal' you envisioned.
Why do you want to go back? Frustratingly trying to regain the control you never had. When a gust of holy wind has beautifully rearranged your hair and the pieces of your life. There really isn't a 'new normal.' Yea, you talk about it like it exists, but it's only to cope, instead of embracing the daily adventure that the Prince of Peace has set your feet on.
At this point, you can't see 'normal' in the rear view mirror even if you squinted hard to catch a glimpse. And if you try to look back, to find the way back to 'normal,' to feel safe and familiar, you'll wreck yourself, your surroundings, those you love and the miracle you've been given.
You may not have realized when you started to pray that life would be so different now. Exciting, nervous, adventurous, more Jesus-dependant than when you needed an answer.
Your prayer has set you on a daily adventure with very little that looks like everyone else. Your prayer has revolutionized your life. Your prayer has changed the face of His Kingdom. Don't live like it hasn't and try to go back to the way things were before.
Embrace His answer and love in it.
:angel: :angel:
Dec 18, 2012 12:10 am | debbiemcdaniel
I walked the mall yesterday while my daughter Gracie was at a birthday party. Should have been a great opportunity to get some Christmas shopping done as I waited, right? Wrong. Though I normally love to shop, I somehow felt strangely out of place in all of the frenzy and madness that filled the halls and surrounded the crowds of people.
Everywhere I looked stores, media, and advertising hype seemed to bombard shoppers with relentless reminders of what we "don't" have and what we "need" in order to be "better."
Yet, deep in my heart, I knew that God, in all of His goodness, desired simply to remind us of what we DO have and what brings TRUE peace, joy, and celebration in the midst of this season. After all, it is Christmas! Isn't it "our" season to celebrate? Shouldn't such an amazing time of year be reflected MOST through the hearts of those who believe in the Truth that it brings? Should greed be allowed to rule over generosity? Could rudeness ever be complete master over joy? Would the frenzied, hurried race of the season subdue any sense of peace that should naturally flow from the very reason we celebrate? My mind raced as I walked, I seemed to go faster and faster, yet never stopping to buy even one single gift.
This morning in reflecting back, I was tempted to feel like I'd wasted my time. Stress clung to my mind as I thought about all that still needed to be done. I felt the weight of inadequacy sweeping over me as I compared myself to others who had seemingly accomplished so much more by this date. Decorations still waited to be hung, shopping still needed to be done, social commitments, already on the calendar, begged for attention, yet in the midst of all, I stop.
The quietness of the moment filled my heart and I could almost hear God whisper to me, "less is more...less of this world leads you to more of Me. More of Me leads you to less of this world."
Ah yes, that's where life is. I breathe this in, and let it sink deeper, into my mind, into my heart, into my spirit.
So, it's decided. This year, I'm making new choices.
This year, I will choose to:
let go of the expectations and pressure to make it all Norman Rockwell-ish,
give more generously to those in need,
extend grace to others,
believe the truth that I'm not a better parent based on how much I buy or don't buy for our kids,
be content with what we have,
enjoy people more and things less,
find celebration in HIM.
He.is.the.Reason.we.have.Christmas.
"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:4-7 NIV
By: Debbie McDaniel
:angel: :angel:
Parenting Years
Dec 19, 2012 12:20 am | Deidra
I heard my son's keys unlock the back door early Friday evening. He's twenty-four and in parenting years, that means six years old was just yesterday.
I hardly ever see him during the day. He's got things to do, places to go, people to see. You know the drill. He's grown. I haven't read him a bedtime story in more than a decade; and then some. He's not the hugging type, and when I send him text messages, he answers in one word. Or less.
Every now and then, we'll sit and have conversations about God and science and philosophy and art and I'm amazed by all the things he knows and how he makes me dig deep into things that matter. I don't think there's any way I could love him more. But he's not one for those mushy kinds of conversations.
All day long, I'd been checking in on the news from Newtown, vacillating between tears and disbelief. People on NPR were telling me to hug my loved ones tight and my husband and I reached for each others' hands. But, my children are grown. My daughter lives halfway across the country and my son's got things to do. So, I made tacos and cleaned the kitchen and prayed to God for people who were facing the unthinkable, and just before the news went off on PBS, I heard my son's keys unlock the back door.
I hugged him, and he hugged me back. With both arms. And he let me kiss his forehead and then hold his face between my two hands so I could see him up close. And I told him I love him, and he said it back, and I hugged him all over again, and kissed his forehead and then I held his face between my two hands. I hugged him again. He hugged me back, and I don't think there's any way I could love him more.
He's twenty-four, and in parenting years that means six years old was just yesterday.
:angel:
Behind the Camera
Dec 21, 2012 12:20 am | Melissa Michaels
I love getting Christmas cards. The smiling faces and coordinating outfits, the perfectly selected backdrops. The yearly record of amazing travels, big blessings and small joys in abundance. It's good to reflect on all that is right in the world, especially when so much seems so wrong. But yes, I know it can be depressing sometimes to get those wonderful Christmas letters, when maybe your own life isn't quite so pretty. Or you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders for others who are hurting.
Is everyone's life as picture perfect as they seem? Perhaps some are, but I'm quite certain that most are not.
We all have hurts, disappointments, frustrations, confusion and seemingly unanswered prayers. They just don't look as pretty on the yearly Christmas card.
No one really wants to get a card that tells the whole truth like that in the mail, right?
Unless it is a holiday picture card like this, then I think we can all laugh. {Go ahead and click, it's worth it}. Because we've been there. We relate.
This is the time of year where bloggers like me have parties to show their homes all dressed up in Christmas finery. Filters and careful cropping mask the imperfections. Perfectly decorated corners filled with handmade crafts and homemade treats, an abundance of holiday cheer and beautiful trees all a glow. It's all good though, we need to find that corner of peace and beauty in a dark world.
I'm going to venture a guess, that behind the camera there is probably an "undecorated" and slightly-undone-less-than-festive scene just out of view of the lens.
Because, you know, that's life. It unravels.
The good with the bad, the messy with the beautiful. Filtered light permeating dark shadows.
Both sides of the camera tell the true story of the life we lead. Tears mixed with joy. Messes behind the camera. Seeking beauty in front of us while wanting desperately to turn our backs and run away from the sadness and pain around us.
God knew. He knew. He had a plan.
He sent His Son, a perfect gift for us that we might find joy and everlasting life.
No more pain. No more sorrow.
Joy without tears. Life where there was death. Peace where there was pain. Light in the dark.
Merry Christmas, everyone. Praying God's joy and peace for you all.
:angel: :angel:
For The One Who Has Everything...
Dec 21, 2012 12:10 am | Kristen Etheridge
I have a pest control problem. It's not in the form of rodents or roaches, squirrels or silverfish. No, it's a bigger problem–a much bigger one–in the form of the red-headed 7 year old that lives next door–Sam.
When we first moved in, I found his frequent visits charming. I thought the nose prints that adorned my sidelights were endearing evidence of a little boy in search of signs of life within our house.
I chuckled as another neighbor told me of seeing Sam outside our door at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning peering in intently. I was amused that he watched for our familiar SUV to round the corner and my children to start spilling out of it before making a mad dash across the front lawn to greet us.
But, then, something changed. And I was annoyed.
I felt like his family took advantage of my generosity and hospitality. I had my own children, my own set of problems and issues, and it wasn't fair. I fumed. And, although I never voiced my complaints out loud to him, I'm sure the little guy sensed the shift in my spirit. I was justified, I reasoned.
After all, Sam would just open my pantry and help himself to snacks. How rude. He would whisper requests to my children and have them intercede for him and beg for him to accompany us on outings or stay for dinner or get another snack. He balked at my rules around naptime and homework time and having no food in the living room. I overheard him tell my children that I was 'mean.'
And then, one December day, I heard a knock at the door and there, laid at my feet, was a 'present' of sorts. It was a gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with a Diet Coke, a Coke Zero, a sugar-free chocolate pudding cup, an electronic SpongeBob SquarePants toothbrush, and a party favor from the dime section of Party City. On the outside, written with an ink pen in first-grade scrawl, it said, 'to Abby, Daniel, and Jackson. From Sam.'
It humbled me. And it broke my heart.
Over the next few days, I thought about the contrast between the humble shepherds and the magnificent wise men. I thought about presents beautifully packaged with sparkly bows, of gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and about dirty, worn-out shepherds with tired sheep draped around their necks–shepherds whose only 'present' was their awe of a newborn King.
The truth is, I am much more like a shepherd than a wise man, and my offerings to my Savior are much like Sam's. They are humble, a hodgepodge, used, and come without batteries. But, it is all I have to lay at His feet. And He tells me that He loves me and that it is enough.
I heard Ann Graham Lotz say once that every Christmas she asks Jesus what present she can give Him for His birthday.
She says the answer He whispers into her heart is always one that involves sacrifice.
As for me, I will be loving on the little red-head next door and praying for the supernatural love with which to do it. It is but a humble offering to the One who already has everything. It is my Ziploc bag, laid at His feet.
By: Kristen Etheridge
:angel: :angel:
When Your Soul Needs to Feel its Worth
Dec 21, 2012 12:20 am | Emily Freeman
When I was younger, some of the things my parents did sent me into full-out headache mode with all the eye rolling I did.
Why did they drive without turning the radio on in the car?
Why did they take rides together without any place to go?
Why did they continue to make jokes in front of my friends when clearly, they are not funny?
But the things I rolled my eyes at when I was younger are the very things I'm embracing as I've grown up. Give me a quiet car, a ride with my husband with no place to go, a hilarious joke that my kids won't laugh at.
So when I learned just a few years ago what my dad does as he walks the dog every the morning, I was a little more open and a lot less eye rolly. What does he do? He sets the clock.
Sets the clock?
Sets the clock.
Not the literal clock, but his internal clock. He walks outside, breathes in deep, and considers the day in which he stands. It helps him, he says, to pause and consider where he is, what season and time of day it is, and his place in it.
Maybe it's time for a sacred pause, a breathing in of the day and your place in it.
Have you forgotten who you are?
Do you remember where you stand and who stands beside you?
Do you remember Immanuel came, not just way back then, but right this minute?
Do you remember that he said It is better for me to go away – I will send a Comforter to be with you.
Do you remember that means He is not merely with us, but within us?
Do you remember why a weary world rejoices?
Do you remember why your soul has worth?
Maybe it's time to set the clock. Today is Friday, December 21, 2012.
The world has not ended after all, though for some it might seem so.
We have great hope in Christ, but we may not always feel hopeful. It's important to acknowledge where you are right now no matter what that may look like.
It's important to remember that allowing grief to do its deepest work does not invalidate your faith.
Whether your eyes are filled with love and hope or if your soul sits desperate in the midst of a dark night – might you at least remember that you have been placed on earth, fashioned with care, stunning and valuable? Might you be willing to allow the anxieties to rise to the surface and offer them up to God?
Take a moment to set the clock where your feet now stand. What do you see there?
by Emily Freeman, Chatting at the Sky
:angel:
Molded Ornaments
Dec 22, 2012 12:20 am | Annie Downs
When I graduated from high school, I began getting serious about my ornament collection.
I mean, I'm sure you understand. All 18-year-olds need to really get focused on the important stuff, like making sure you are well documenting your life through the medium of Christmas ornaments. Also, there is something grown up and forward thinking and very mature about starting an ornament collection. Or so I believed therefore so I did.
For the last fifteen-ish Christmases, my ornament collection has grown. Particularly during my mid-twenties, when I owned my first house and was building my adult life and buying lots of home decor things with my extra spending money because who needs to have a savings account anyways? I accrued ornaments that meant a lot to me.
It's not that each one has some emotional story attached, though some do. I just have a bit of a rose-colored-glasses view of that season of my life. I thought marriage and family were just around the corner and here I was setting up a home that would soon hustle and bustle with lots of stockings hanging from adorable hooks on my mantel. Those ornaments, the Atlanta Falcons painted ball, the #1 teacher star from a 4th grade student, the lace angel, remind me of a time in my life that was full of dreams.
They remind me of when I really started to grow up.
I kept each ornament individually wrapped and stored in a large plastic container, safe from all harm.
Or so I thought.
Until the Sunday after Thanksgiving when I headed down to the basement to retrieve the box of ornaments and what to my wondering eyes should appear?
Soggy ornaments.
All of them.
Wet. Molded. Stinky. Gross.
I'll spare you the details of the situation, of how they got wet and managed to remain in some sort of soggy state since the summer [Yes. The summer.], and how I ended up throwing away over half of my Christmas decor in one evening's purge.
Are you cringing? Is a little piece of you crying and looking over to your tree with a heart full of thanksgiving?
I know. It's awful.
But in some ways, it's okay. In fact, in some weird sense, it was good for me. Those ornaments were purchased to build a life that I never had. And every year, as I hung them on the tree, I remembered that.
Two nights later, after the discovery and the purge, the college small group I lead arrived at my house and they each handed me a brand new ornament. I couldn't contain the tears. While there was nothing wrong with the old, the old was gone. And here were the new – ornaments that speak of my current life, almost every one covered in glitter [it is my favorite color after all], and representing who I am, not who I wish to be.
This year, my tree celebrates a life I love – the good and the bad and the sparkle – instead of a life I want. And I think this is the better way.
PS- I learned how to clean molded ornaments. Just, you know, in case you ever need that kind of information.
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel:
For God so loved the world
that he gave his one and only Son,
that whoever believes in him
shall not perish but have eternal life.
John 3:16
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!
2 Corinthians 9:15
:angel:
4 Simple Ways to Hold Onto Christmas
Dec 24, 2012 12:20 am | Sarah Mae
That's the way Christmas feels these days, lonely, quick, gone too soon.
Tonight is a whisper, tomorrow will be loud, and then...
it's over and Christmas is wrapping paper that is so easily thrown out.
The nativity's go back in their boxes, the tree to the curb, and my heart? It feels lost in all the motion of the season.
I want it all to last. The lights and the trees and the feeling and the peppermint mochas and the manger. Christmas is red and January is blue, and I'm already feeling sad.
How can I hold onto Christmas? How can I live Christmas?
I think this...
4 Simple Ways to Hold onto Christmas
The Nativity Stays
I have a thing for nativities, and at Christmas I put out four nativity sets. This year, I will tuck three gently away, but one will stay, all year long.
The Meaning of Christmas Will be Framed
These words will be put in a frame in my dining room:
"She will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins." Matthew 1:21
I Will Serve
I will use this Christmas countdown as a reminder and guide and pick two "serves" a month that I can do with my family. I will do this because...
"Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27
A Candle is Lit Each Week
A Candle lit, because all year is advent, all year, all the years and the hours we wait. Let us not forget that there will come a day that His Light will shine before all men, and all will bow, and all will be made right.
Have a beautiful Christmas eve, friends, and a beautiful year of Christmas.
:angel:
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6
We wish you a very merry Christmas!
:angel:
Still
Angela Nazworth
The last few weeks brimmed with activity. Many times I felt like one of the gifts I prepared to place under the tree: closely examined, shaken about and wrapped a little too tight.
But amid the flurry of decorating, gift-buying, baking, and visiting rested pure joy. Joy in celebrating the birth of our Savior. Joy in the nightly page-flipping of our advent calendar to share the message of hope with my children.
Today, as the kids play with their new toys and my husband heads back to work, I plan to be still. I'm not going to clean, run errands or organize. I'm not going to write down resolutions or work on another project. Instead, I plan to immerse myself in feelings of gratitude and wrap my heart in the peace Jesus provided so that I can be refreshed and renewed in Him.
What are your plans for this day after Christmas?
Romans 15:13
Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe in Him so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
:angel:
The Best of Everything 2012 (and a Giveaway!)
Dec 27, 2012 12:20 am | Ann Voskamp
You hear it, too? The clock ticking down on this year?
Oh, we're all lingering in the wonder of these holidays a bit longer, and pulling up a chair just for you, and passing down your cuppa warm.
Ah, it was the best of times, wasn't it?
Well, really, it wasn't in the least, and it completely was because now is always the miracle that might not have been.
Either way, 2012 came — and it's about to go. And like an old friend, this year needs remembering for all of the best moments — the ones where you wanted to grab a girlfriend and say, "Hey! Did you see that wink of a minute, that falling star of a moment, that crazy grace time bestowed?"
It's going to get happiest loud in here, because we're all Jonathan-friends and we're all leaning in with the good times and don't be shy about what the Lord has done!
So, let the whole (in)courage hood chime in, (and if you're here, that's gorgeous you, sister) and let's make this the best end of the year block party –
The best recipe you couldn't not make again?
The best book you couldn't put down?
The best song that you just couldn't get out of your head?
The jeans that fit best? (It's paramount never to wear pants that hurt...)
The tool/gizmo/idea that worked best? (It's true: One good idea in hand is worth two good friends knowing about it too!)
The risk that returned best? (It's why angels always say it first: "Do not be afraid." You never start living until you stop fearing.)
The best link of 2102? The best laugh? The best living?
The best thing you didn't want to do — but you did anyway? (Happiness comes to them who pursue hard things.)
What was the best habit?
The best holiday? The best gift?
The best sacrifice? (The best way to have more is to give more...)
And wave your friends in here too — the more we share, the more joy we all give each other.
So... what was the Best of Everything 2012?
(Pouring your mug of grace times in the the comment box and we'll all be pitching in with our "Best of..." there too! :)
Can't wait to hear your "The Best of Everything 2012″ ... and for every comment you leave (one, two, ten)?
Every comment's another entry to win 4 gifts that are, oh, about Four Thousand Gifts! : The One Thousand Gifts gift set of 2 books with the calendar — and the brand spanking new One Thousand Gifts Devotional (with numbered journaling space to write down your own "1000 best of everything moments" for 2013!)
"The Best of Everything 2012″ party will just keep singing on here on until Saturday evening, 8 pm EST, and then we get the happy joy of updating this post with the recipient of the One Thousand Gifts gift set who then gets to start the countdown of her own "1000 best of everything" 2013!
Let the best of times begin! Let the linking and the laughing and the loving and the remembering begin!
Email readers and RSS friends, come on join in with your beautiful voice at "The Best of Everything" party right here...
:angel: :angel:
Meet Me In The Kitchen
Dec 27, 2012 12:10 am | jencleveland
There they were night after night; those dishes, waiting for me. That post-dinner mess, with post-lunch mess included, postponed from earlier in the day. Our kitchen lacked the modern convenience of a dishwasher, so it was a chore.
The Lord would be waiting for me there too. He always knew where to find me. But I typically didn't recognize this.
When my children were small, my only quiet moment seemed to ironically come while washing dishes. Food eaten, vegetables negotiated, and dessert obliged meant that soon after, the cleanup process would repel everyone far from the kitchen.
Our house was busy with four young children. We struggled through a very difficult marriage. Quiet was what I really needed. Good Christians had a quiet time every day, and took time to pray uninterrupted.
I mostly focused on was all that wasn't. I longed to be better; a better wife, a better mom, a better believer. Failure was all I saw. I had a daily portion of despair with a side of guilt and anxiety.
One night as I worked through the dirty dishes and pans, a Voice spoke to me over my shoulder. It wasn't audible, but it was unmistakable and startling. It was like a husband standing behind his wife, resting gentle hands on her shoulders, and whispering in her ear. He was the One that I had been seeking, even though I didn't have a quiet time that morning, like all those other good Christians.
What He spoke to my heart specifically contradicted what I had been told by someone close to me that day. It was something that gave me strength. It was surprising, personal, and healing.
The Holy Spirit is waiting near our messes, literal or figurative. He knows that we need His grace to navigate them. We need His presence. He is not repelled by our situation, He is our way out of it.
In the commotion of raising a family or earning a living these days, everything works against discovering the hidden moments when God is speaking to us, waiting to connect. This is what we must fight. We must guard the desire to discover.
We must keep our spirits open even if our calendars are full.
There have been other such kitchen moments, not when I was expecting but exactly when I needed them. Those mundane things like dishes and driving are times to be quiet and listen.
You never know who might join you.
Jennifer
The Quiet Place
:angel: :angel:
Where Norman Rockwell Leaves Off
Dec 28, 2012 12:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
Thanksgiving on the homestead
The candles flicker on the table, while the fire crackles from the side room. The aroma of our feast awaiting permeates the kitchen, while kids storm in from all areas of our family homestead.
We gravitate around the table and naturally reach for the hands of those beside us. We've done this before, it's life breath to most of us. My father, our patriarch, leads and prays words of truth and blessings over our marriages, friendships, occupational choices, ministries and our time together.
It's the kind of evening that Norman Rockwell captured. The kind of evening in which everyone wishes they could be included.
Nearly two decades ago, my family choose to buy land together. With lots of acreages, grandparents, brothers, sisters, and a plethora of cousins, we chose to build houses sprinkled around 20 acres, and have our young families grow up in community with one another – a kids' dream land.
My parents place a life long value on our generational legacy, and they continue to breathe and ignite that vision into us (their now adult children), but little did any of us know the cost involved in making community "work."
Yes, just like the history behind some of Normal Rockwell paintings where tears, poverty, and injustice, were mixed side by side with celebration and joy, being in community, whether with friends or family, is never easy. Often, we don't see those struggles plastered on any magazine covers.
Family tradition of free Christmas Day coffee at Sheetz after delivering meals to those in need/refugees
Statistically, the week following Christmas brings melancholic feelings to the surface for many. With expectation, we wait to capture that perfect Normal Rockwell scene, yet it never comes, and the post holiday let down now surfaces.
As I reflect on my varying relationships, my desire to approach this new year with a renewed sense of purpose towards building community reminds me just how intentional I need to be in this decision.
Yet to breathe life into authentic community, where my desire is to really be known and to know others, comes at great cost and sacrifice of time.
There are no fast forward buttons that come with friendships. It's a decision to work hard in those relationships, and be willing to let go of the "little stuff" (which feels rather large and overwhelming at times). There's a cost to stay committed, even when it's inconvenient, and a cost of extending communication, or as I like to call it "care-frontation", even when we'd rather stay silent. In some of my circles, I've been coined the Queen of "Forced Bonding." Often, someone needs to take that role, and I gladly acknowledge the title.
At (in)courage, all of the writers have focused on varying aspects of community this year, and there has been an out pouring from you, our readers, that this theme truly resonates.
I look at community in the body of Christ much the same way I do community within our family homestead. When people ask how our "Norman Rockwell" family is as close as we are, I chuckle.
"First, nothing is ever as it seems. Second, not everyone desires the same kind of community, and third, it takes commitment, prayer, grace from an All Mighty God, and hard, hard work."
Often within the church, we view community as a "warm and fuzzy, let's sip Starbucks around the fire and share life together," kind of endeavor. There are blissful moments like that, but realistically, it's a "I choose to love and be in community, even when it's painful," kind of journey.
But when that happens, when true community ignites, and we choose to dive into the nitty gritty of life together, the cost is so worth it. Some of you have experienced that, haven't you?
It's then that we sit at the feet of the master painter, and marvel at the real masterpiece He just created.
Romans 12:9-10
Don't just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other.
I want that, don't you?
I'm willing to take the risk in 2013. Won't you join me?
What's one baby step that you can take to bring community closer in the new year, or if you already have a place you belong, can you share encouragement for those still on the journey?
Jen Schmidt: author behind Balancing Beauty and Bedlam and 10 Minute Dinners.
:angel:
A Heart's Homecoming: Taking a Different Route
Dec 29, 2012 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray
A heart's imprint, one winter morning
"Having come to know Jesus, we are forbidden to return by the way we came." St. Gregory
The new year is approaching.
It's right around the corner.
One moment, I'm sure of where I'm heading.
Another moment, I'm thinking, maybe it's time to change course instead.
It's a voice that's not very loud.
It's a voice that's soft. Still.
Like a stone cast upon a pond standing cold in the winter, my heart thinks it's resting when it feels a ripple cascade from the center.
Come back to me, Bonnie.
But, don't come back the way you came.
I want you to journey ahead — by traveling another way.
Like the wise men who traveled long and hard, to follow the star that finally led them to Jesus, God is telling me in more ways than one.
It's time for your homecoming. And I want you to return — by a different route.
Homecoming
I was talking to Marguerit in the church quad after worship service. The week before Christmas.
I tell her it was my birthday a few weeks ago. And it wasn't such an easy occasion to celebrate.
I had mixed feelings about marking a milestone. I looked back on where I've been and I feel the pressure to make this year different. To make it count.
Marguerit is an expert in gerontology. She teaches on the social and psychological aspects of aging. Yes, I know I'm really not that old. People say I look young. I can't take any credit. I tell them it's my Asian genes, that make me look like I'm just hardly out of college.
But, inside I feel old.
This past year, I've had to relive old wounds and memories, that have come alive through post-traumatic stress.
With each flashback, I'm sucked back into a time machine, and I'm four again. I'm alone, standing barefoot, in the dark of a basement. I'm cold and crying, standing tippy toes against the window pane of a gray sky, wondering if my momma has left me for good this time.
The other day, as I inhaled a bite of winter air and moved my legs in its rhythmic pace for my morning walk and prayer, I noticed a heart-shaped imprint left on the dirt path. I thought about the girl who wore those sneakers, and I'm suddenly feeling seven, with floppy hair and choppy bangs that poked me right below my eyebrows whenever I ran.
I remember how lost I felt, gripping my little sister's hand, as we walked down my grandma's driveway, to climb into my father's old green Nova and sit on vinyl seats in the back. Unlike my parents, I never signed my name on any divorce papers. Divorce was a brokenness I experienced in my heart — during those last visits with my father weekends.
Even against the rattle of his old Chevy engine, I rode in a vacuum of silence. But my heart was far from being quiet. There was world of pain that comes from separation that I never allowed myself to experience.
Returning to this world of pain, to journey through it — it's what Jesus calls healing.
This is the journey of healing is my heart's homecoming.
My Full Voice
I was the strong one.
I was the one who always smiled, who only cried just a little. And for the times I cried a lot, it was always alone. And never for too long.
This is how I came to Jesus as a little girl, drawn by the love and the light of a loving Savior, a gentle Shepherd who spoke my name and smiled to see me.
But, now God's taken me on a spiritual journey that leads me back to the places where I've been wounded.
Jesus is there too. But, I'm finding a different Jesus walking with me. He is Jesus with eyes dripping with tears for me. He is intimate friend, chest heavy with understanding, sullen and sober with my memories. He knows the pit of loneliness. He's still my Shepherd, but His arms open to hold me, rather than nudging me to walk forward as He's done in the past.
I'm seeing with painful clarity the truth of life's imperfections and the marks they've left on my soul and in my story.
And it's very disorienting to understand why Jesus would want me to revisit the past, at a time in my life when I feel there's so much more I can do without the healing.
Jesus doesn't seem to explain very much.
Which can be very frustrating.
Instead, Jesus keeps pointing to the changes He wants me to make.
These are not changes that are easy to check off a list. When I make these changes, there will be people who will not be happy with my choices. Expectations are a very painful thing to break.
I don't know how my life will look like, but I recognize the Voice of Jesus, who whispers –
Speak. In your full voice.
I won't be able to explain very much.
I will feel frustrated. Yes, even afraid.
But, I must go.
Because I want to go where God leads me.
I want to go the other way — where the Shepherd of my Heart calls for me to return.
"I am the way, the truth and the life."
~ Jesus, John 14:6
Home Another Way
I'm sure the wise men expended a great many emotional, financial and personal sacrifice and expense to keep following the star — for so many unknown number of days.
You'd think having finally found Jesus, they would finally return home the way they came. In peace and with ease.
The moment they found Christ, they were overjoyed and ecstatic. They were able to finally give their gifts to Jesus and experienced the thrill of reaching their goal.
But, their journey wasn't over. They could not return home the way they came.
They received news their lives were in danger. They had to go home another way.
If you're like me, looking into the new year and wondering, how in the world will I navigate my plans in the midst of sudden changes?...
If you are burdened with anxiety, fearful it's too late — that the journey of faith is taking too much time — with too many detours...
Jesus may be calling you to take a different route, to bring your heart to a new homecoming.
A Different Route
It's scary to unexpectedly find ourselves in a disorienting position — especially if you've traveled long and hard to reach a personal goal or dream for many years.
You and I have journeyed through many different lands, believing we had finally arrived at the cusp of what we thought would give us closure, joy and peace.
But, having reached that place in life, we discover ourselves in circumstances we could have never predicted.
Marguerit tells me God's timetable is different from our own. Jesus himself lived 30 years of his journey hidden, yet God chose to call him while He was single with only three years time to share His purpose.
God chose a different route for Jesus to make His way back home.
It's time for us to make our way back home too.
It's our heart's homecoming.
Back to that place inside us where Jesus is at the center.
To travel together — back to where we are at home with Jesus — feeling safe and loved.
We need to go back via a different route.
—-
"And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod,
they returned to their country by another route."
~ Matthew 2:12
—-
What is the different route God is calling you to take?
How is God encouraging you — in that quiet voice — to take the next step to your heart's homecoming?
Pull up a chair. Click to comment — Share your thoughts, as we turn over a new year.
—-
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie on her blog, as she continues her heart's homecoming journey — returning as the beloved — into the heart of God.
:angel:
20 Questions for Reflecting on Your 2012
Dec 31, 2012 12:00 am | Tsh Oxenreider
Happy New Year's Eve! Whether you're headed to a party or headed to the living room with a bowl of popcorn, New Year's Eve is a great day for reflection. A whole year has passed since the last one. You're a year older. Are you a year wiser?
It's that time of year again, when I share 20 questions to help you reflect on the past 365 days (or in the case of 2012, 366 days). Use these reflection questions however you see fit over the next few days. Feel free to think over these throughout your day. But if you'd like to be a bit more intentional with them, every year I provide a free PDF download over on Simple Mom—head over there to download the document, fresh off the press.
Want to answer these questions solo? Grab a cup of coffee and a pen, and use the space provided on the first three pages of the free download.
Want to chat over the answers with your spouse or with friends? Use the last page of the PDF to cut each question into squares, and then toss them in a hat to draw, one at a time.
On January 1 (tomorrow!), I'll share another round of questions (and another PDF) on Simple Mom. This time, they'll be to help plan your goals for 2013. What are your plans? Your hopes? What would you like to happen for you personally, for your children, for your family?
But for now, use the next 48 hours to reflect on the past 365 366 days...
20 Questions for a New Year's Eve Reflection
1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year?
2. What was the single most challenging thing that happened?
3. What was an unexpected joy this past year?
4. What was an unexpected obstacle?
5. Pick three words to describe 2012.
6. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe your 2012—don't ask them; guess based on how you think your spouse sees you. (If you're not married, have fun guessing the answers from other friends and family, or just skip this question.)
7. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe their 2012—again, without asking.
8. What were the best books you read this year?
9. With whom were your most valuable relationships?
10. What was your biggest personal change from January to December of this past year?
11. In what way(s) did you grow emotionally?
12. In what way(s) did you grow spiritually?
13. In what way(s) did you grow physically?
14. In what way(s) did you grow in your relationships with others?
15. What was the most enjoyable part of your work (both professionally and at home)?
16. What was the most challenging part of your work (both professionally and at home)?
17. What was your single biggest time waster in your life this past year?
18. What was the best way you used your time this past year?
19. What was biggest thing you learned this past year?
20. Create a phrase or statement that describes 2011 for you.
Happy reflecting! And pass over that bowl of popcorn.
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
10 Reasons Why You Should Register for (in)RL – Reason 1
Jan 01, 2013 12:45 am | incourage
On January 14th registration opens for (in)RL 2013.
You're not going to want to miss it. But don't take our word for it. We asked 10 women why you'd want to tune in for an online webcast that last year connected nearly 2,000 sisters in Christ from across the globe. And especially why you'd want to step outside your door and meetup with other women (in) real life. Here's what they said:
Jen from Balancing Beauty and Bedlam shares why you won't want to miss (in)RL this year.
Bonus reasons to register:
It's FREE!
Everyone who registers on the day registration opens (Monday Jan 14) gets a copy of our (in)courage 365 Daybrightener while supplies last (US residents only).
Everyone gets a copy of our first eBook: "Best of the Beach House 2012."
Meet you back here January 14th when registration opens!
:angel:
God-sized Dream = a desire in your heart for more of what God has for you.
Hello, Brave Sister...
I'm talking to you today.
Yep, even if your knees are knocking in your cute boots a bit right now.
The one who has a desire that tugs at your heart.
The one with the God-sized dream that's been waiting.
The one who sometimes wonders, "Is this all there is?"
I'm inviting you to open the door to a God-sized dream in 2013.
Now before you get too nervous, let me assure you that God-sized dreams are not really about size at all–they are about what perfectly fits YOUR heart. It's really another way of describing your purpose. And we all have one.
What's yours?
Whether a crystal clear answer pops into your mind or you don't have a clue, this journey is for you.
You really can take the next steps toward what God has for you this year. Two small ways to start today...
Download The Do What You Can Plan: 21 Days to Making Any Area of Your Life Better. {You can get it on any computer and it's FREE just for January 1st. Happy New Year from Revell!}
Then join me and your sisters for the God-sized dream series. We'll give you the tools you need and plenty of encouragement.
Are you ready?
This year can be different.
You can be different.
WE can be different.
And when we are, the whole world is too.
What's the God-sized dream you'd like to open the door to this year?
by Holley Gerth
p.s. Next week the God-sized dreams series will kick-off with a blog link-up. Just write a post about your God-sized Dream {or how you're scared silly to have one–whatever you want} and share it with us over here on Tuesday the 8th. Psst...you'll be entered to win the print above from Red Letter Words when you do.
:angel: :angel:
We're counting down to January 14 when registration goes live for our (in) real life conference! It's FREE this year – whoot! So save the date for April 26 & 27, 2013. In the meantime, we're delighted to be featuring a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about.
Over the last couple of years, I feel like I have been shedding layers of tough, self-reliant soul-skin, rubbed raw by the experiences and people in my life. Vulnerable moments, painful conversations, life-changing decisions, paradigm-shifting truths, all chipping away at my gnarly exterior that wants to keep saying,
"I don't need you...my life is fine...and by the way, keep your distance."
A year of studying the journey of Jesus through the eyes of Luke, learning anew how the people of the Way are meant to live. We are designed to live in community, modeling the consistent and authentic life of Jesus, as he spoke loving Truth into the people around Him. That is our calling as well.
Finding myself in a place where I couldn't be just "fine" anymore, even if that meant allowing myself to be vulnerable. Being prayed over while I sat weeping with big, gulping sobs. Finally learning that accepting help from your community is just as important as giving help to others.
Making time to commit to community. Not institutions, but individuals. Investing in others, one person at a time, even if it doesn't fit my schedule, my personality, or my tolerance level.
Continuing to journey down the path of motherhood with my "board of advisors," some on Facebook, others through blogging, some over the phone, and many more in person. With every question about how to get lip stain off of a toddlers face or pen off of leather recliners and every passionate discussion about constipation or screen time, I become stronger and more confident. Alone is not an option.
And just this past weekend, I found myself sitting a room of women I barely knew, on a bleak day where I was chilled to the bone, participating in a webcast hosted by (in)courage. I wasn't sure why I was there, but as the words connected with my heart and the group started to share, I felt another layer of soul-skin starting to loosen.
The afternoon was full of beautiful words. I scribbled a sentence from Ann Voskamp, "The guards you put up end up being your own prison that keeps you alone" and circled it for good measure. I wrote in capital letters, "STOP SAYING FINE!" and gritted my teeth in determination. We talked about communities of prayer, the challenge to "do the things we are uniquely wired to do" and how we need to stop worrying about all the things we "don't" do. It was an unexpectedly sacred time for me, unhindered by life's distractions, focused only on soaking in the truth of using our words as "anchors in a storm", and actively participating in community.
I left some of my insecurities behind in that room, replaced by the supple skin of Truth. Love God and love others, and do it well. It felt good to refocus on what is important. Not because it is good for me, but because it is what we are called to do.
By: Rachel Hammond
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Sure Foundation
Jan 02, 2013 12:20 am | Jennifer
I love you, Lord, my strength. Psalm 18:1
I discovered this nest not long ago. I had walked by this particular spot many times in the past few months and had never noticed it. Just a short time ago the leaves of the tree surrounded it and it was hidden. As the seasons began to change, the leaves fell away and it was revealed.
I was surprised when I saw it there and started to think. Through all these months, through all the wind and storms... here it is. The nest remained. Nestled there in the right spot, in the support of those branches, it survived. It was sheltered. It was protected. It was safe.
It made me think about how important it is to know where we find our support. Much like those branches that came together to hold that nest up and offer protection.... so He is our support, our strength, our refuge. He upholds us. He is our place of safety.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. Psalm 18:2
It reminded me of how important it is to have a strong foundation. Much like this perfect spot to build a nest, a home... so He is our foundation. He is our sure foundation.
With God as the foundation of who I am, when circumstances of life weigh on me, when fear begins to creep up, there is no doubt I can withstand it all. I can withstand the hard, harsh winds, just as this sweet, little nest withstood them.
He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the Lord is the key to this treasure. Isaiah 33:6
As this new year begins, I look ahead with such great anticipation because I know where my foundation is built. He is my sure foundation. My life is built on Him and with that proper foundation, I can do anything! My prayer for you... with Him as your foundation, you have a blessed year ahead.
What are you looking ahead to this new year?! We would love to hear!
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
Social Media And Sweaterdresses
Jan 03, 2013 12:20 am | Kristen Strong
We sit starched and sparkly in what my grandma would call proper church clothes: Button down shirt and ties for the boys, dresses with tights and boots for the girls. David, the kids and I are headed to a formal concert, and we have dressed the part well.
In the car on the way to the performance hall, I review appropriate concert behavior. No talking during the performance. No clapping until each piece concludes. No asking for bathroom breaks 'til intermission. My tween kids know this, but I figure it doesn't hurt to remind them how their manners should reflect kindness and respect to the musicians and others in attendance.
The concert saw both music and children in excellent form. Intermission arrived, so all three kids and myself used the restroom. And that's when I lost all credibility to lecture on good manners as I proceeded to exit the bathroom with my sweaterdress tucked up inside my tights.
Awesome and classy, that's me.
While my sanguine personality and I can easily laugh about it, my face still gets a little hot remembering. It was funny, but the looks I received had me regretting the decision to use the restroom in the first place.
Social media sometimes feels the same way. For example, I kindly and respectfully try to engage someone else in a conversation, but they don't respond. I post something {I find} witty or funny, and the response is Cricketville. While I have pure intentions in posting updates or tweets, I sit embarrassed when I get no response. I wonder if I walked into the "room" with my dress caught up in my tights by saying something ridiculous or unintelligent after all.
I wonder if it might not just be me?
When we start to feel this way, it can only mean one thing:
It's time to step away from the social media and step towards a healthy perspective.
1. Remember the social media room is crowded and loud. Recently, I attended a large party at a friend's stunning, spacious home. While I waved and said hello to several folks and chatted with a few, many people I never spoke one word to. Many people I didn't even see. The social media room is like this, but it's endlessly big with new people walking in and out all the time. There's no way everyone in the room is going to talk to – much less connect with – everyone else.
2. Remember we give to give, not to get. When we leave a thoughtful comment or message, it is a present we place in the hands of the person. We give the gift and move on. Maybe they'll say thank you out loud, maybe only in their heart. Either way, we don't stand around, tap our foot, and demand a response. Nobody owes us anything.
3. Remember why you're important. You have worth because you have fullness in Christ, not because of so-and-so's interaction and friendship. Put your hope in Him, not them. He is the only One who fills to overflowing and fully gets who you are.
I cherish online friendships, especially the ones that meander into real life. But even a relationship lover like me admits I can't have one with every person that crosses my path. Neither can you. We all have families to prioritize. We have jobs to do, laundry to wash, words to read, toilets to scrub, walks to take, skies to watch. If we are meant to interact with someone on a deeper level, God will see that it happens.
In the meantime, when the chatter gets loud and you get lonely, step away from the social media. Write offline or read in a corner. Kiss faces. Wrap arms. Snuggle up. Love hard.
And when we do our thing online, let's not get caught up in what others do or don't do as it relates to us. Give a message with a smile, grateful for the opportunity to encourage. If your heart reflects kindness and respect to other folks, there is no need to dwell on your one-way conversation.
Not even if your sweaterdress is tucked up in your tights.
When it comes to social media, what helps you to keep a healthy perspective?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel: :angel:
The Challenge Not to Overcommit
Jan 04, 2013 12:20 am | Jessica Turner
It's a new year and all I can think about is creating margin in 2013.
In fact, margin is my one little word for this year.
I have talked about my need for margin before.
It is something I constantly struggle with in my life. I'm a person that likes to say yes and fill my calendar with lots of activities.
And while they are all good things – lunches with friends, date nights, concerts, kids' activities – that doesn't negate that sometimes they are simply too. much.
Last month I was really excited to go to a Friday night scrapbooking event. It was my first one in three years. I knew it was going to be busy being the Christmas season, but I had to go.
When that week came, we had something going on every night.
And by Thursday I was spent.
Going to another activity was the last thing I wanted to do.
So I didn't go.
As soon as I decided not to go I felt a wave of peace wash over me.
It was incredible. I wondered, why do I do this to myself?
Why do we as Americans do this to ourselves?
We run ourselves ragged, hardly able to savor life because we are so exhausted.
And so this year, I am challenging myself not to overcommit myself, and prioritize quiet days and nights in our family's calendar.
There is freedom in saying no.
In doing less.
In taking time to be quieter and more intentional.
Do you struggle with committing to do more than you should? How has this struggle impacted your life?
:angel:
Worshiping Like a Child
Jan 05, 2013 12:20 am | Mary Carver
"Join me in raising your hands as we worship the Lord."
My eyes darted from one corner of the room to another and then back to my own table. Wondering if I was the only one feeling an increased heartbeat and slight shortness of breath, I nervously freed my hands from my pockets. Is everyone really going to raise their hands?
****************
Every time I'm in a worship service and the song leader suggests we raise our hands in praise (or surrender or acceptance or whatever the virtue of the day may be), I cringe. I get a little sweaty and my mind starts racing.
What is wrong with you? Why can't you raise your hands?
I know. I should raise my hands. I want to. I do. But...
What if I look weird? What if they notice?
It's just not like me. I'm not a raise-your-hands kind of girl.
You mean you're not a praise-the-Lord kind of girl?
Just. Raise. Your. Hands.
Ahhh! It's not a big deal, but it feels like a big deal!
Isn't it enough to tap my foot?
Is this song ever going to – oh, good, it's over now.
Every time.
Now, I know people worship in many different ways. And I'm pretty sure God is just fine with that. After all, He's the one who created us all so differently. I'm talkative and fairly outgoing, but I'm also what some have called uptight and repressed. (I prefer to say I hold my cards close to my vest, but toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.) Either way, I don't typically let my big, important feelings show on the outside – and that includes my deep love and adoration of my Lord.
The product of a small-town, hymn-singing traditional church, it never even occurred to me to raise my hands during worship until I witnessed my friends doing just that in college. In fact, closing my eyes while belting out my favorite songs was as expressive as I got back then – and even that felt out of place.
One Sunday I remember the pastor asking us to sing Amazing Grace. I flipped open my hymnal and promptly shut my eyes and began to sing. When we got to a verse I wasn't familiar with, I opened my eyes, looked down at my hymnal and realized I was on the wrong page. My friend's mom was standing next to me, and when she whispered the correct page number, I felt my face burn with embarrassment. Who closes their eyes at church? That's so weird! Why was I doing that?
I realize now that I was likely the only person who noticed or cared how I worshiped at my hometown church, just like I doubt anyone today is really paying attention to whether or not I raise my hands or clap or tap my foot during worship. Still, I've remained afraid of looking weird or wrong during worship all these years.
****************
"Join me in raising your hands as we worship the Lord."
That day, my internal debate was interrupted by the five-year-old standing next to me. As soon as she saw me notice her raised hands, she wanted to talk about it. "Mommy, why aren't you holding your hands up? Look! I'm holding up my hands for Jesus! You do it, too, Mommy!"
So for once, I did the thing that my heart often longs to do but feels so awkward and even scary:
I raised my hands.
The specific way we worship isn't the point. The point is that for years, I've ignored the urge to let go and worship the way that feels right to me. I've remained content to worship half-heartedly because what everyone else might think was more important than what God has placed in my heart and what I long to say to Him.
For my daughter, though, it was so much simpler than that. She heard the worship leader suggest we raise our hands, she knows that she loves Jesus and wants to express that, and she raised her hands up high. Just like that.
Oh, to be like a child!
Jesus called the children to him and said, "Let the little children come to me,
and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.
Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God
like a little child will never enter it."
Luke 18:16-17
After decades of holding back and arguing with myself and being afraid of what others might think, I learned an important lesson from a five-year-old. Worship isn't about how I look or doing the right thing or following the rules. It's simply about responding to God. Just like that.
This certainly isn't the first time a child has taught me about God (and probably won't be the last!). Sometimes it seems like being around children is the fastest way to learn – or remember – Truth. Have you ever learned a lesson about God from a child?
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Jan 06, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
Therefore, since we are surrounded
by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith,
let us strip off every weight that slows us down,
especially the sin that so easily trips us up.
And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.
Hebrews 12:1
:angel:
Because Rescue Is Coming
Jan 07, 2013 12:00 am | Laura Parker
I met a girl in a brothel named Sarah about eight months ago via covert camera footage. And while I've yet to speak in the flesh to this young woman, I know her story.
Sarah's home country in SE Asia is notorious for both government oppression and extreme poverty, and at the hands of her own mother, she was sold to a human trafficker to pay off a family debt. Moved across borders, Sarah found herself in a neighboring country where she didn't know the language and was at the mercy of the pimp who now "owned" her.
Sarah was 15, and her virginity was soon sold for $600 USD.
Three days after Sarah was sold for the first time, my husband, who was doing undercover investigations into sexual slavery, met Sarah in person. She stared at the floor and fidgeted with a napkin. Contrasted with the other prostitutes who were dressed in short skirts and heavy makeup, Sarah wore street clothes and a hollow expression. My husband and another investigator documented the evidence of her sale to build a legal case for a raid on her behalf, and with the help of a translator who spoke her language, Sarah began to understand that they were there for rescue, not abuse.
Eventually, Sarah wrote on a local bill, "Please rescue me," and handed it to the national investigator, daring to believe that what these two men claimed was true– that she would be rescued and find herself free.
The investigators left Sarah's brothel that night with solid evidence and a promise to return. And then, Sarah waited.
For two. long. months.
Because two months was the timeline in Sarah's case that was necessary for the local police to be effectively mobilized. Eight weeks was the currency which needed to be paid in legal negotiations and red tape in a foreign country that's overwhelmed with the cancer of modern day slavery.
But two months later, on a hot night in the tropics, Sarah's door was kicked down. Rescue came for her in the form of men in swat suits and cars with flashing lights. After several months of suffering in a brothel as a young teenager, Sarah found herself in a police car with a female social worker telling her she was safe.
And Sarah wasn't alone- a total of eight underage girls were rescued by the police and raid team that night.
And here's the thing I can't get away from when I think about Sarah, when I remember her story. Young Sarah was given a promise of rescue, but then found herself still very much in a brothel– trapped by rape, abuse, and fear. I imagine she felt a deep sense of betrayal by these strangers who had promised rescue in whispered voices, but then had kept not showing up each night.
But what Sarah didn't know, what she didn't have the birds-eye view of, was that heaven and earth were literally being moved on her behalf, for her freedom. There were meetings happening in government offices in the capital city, and there was money given and spent to cover the expenses of the raid. There were prayer meetings taking place in the United States for her safety and her heart. There were plane tickets bought and plans formulated and obstacles pushed through with a tenacity that still inspires me when I think of it today. And there was risk assumed by a host of local and Western heroes, members of both governmental and nongovernmental community, who eventually did swarm into darkness, despite the incredible odds,
for Sarah-- this one 15 year- old immigrant.
And this, this to me is the part of Sarah's story I can not escape. Because so often I find myself in a brothel of sorts– a dark place where I can't see hope of rescue, a prison of self or circumstance. I taste in those moments of doubt a betrayal from what I feel are broken promises, a despair that redemption could even be impossible, anyway. And I'm tempted to believe that No One is behind the scenes fighting on my behalf.
And this. is. a. lie.
Of epic proportions.
Ask Sarah, I bet she'd tell you.
**********
January is Human Trafficking Awareness Month. If Sarah's story moves you, consider learning more about the issues of human trafficking and modern day slavery by visiting The Exodus Road. This nonprofit is one which was begun in part by Sarah's case in SE Asia. It is a coalition of organizations focused on rescue and redemption. We primarily do undercover investigations with an emphasis on empowering nationals, but we also support raids, prosecutions, and after-care facilities.
And you can help. If you have a blog (it doesn't matter how large or small!), consider joining our blogging team where you'll get to tell monthly stories from the front lines-- stories of slavery, rescue, and hope. You'll get to use your online voice to speak for those that do not have one, connect with a quickly growing team of justice-minded bloggers, and potentially have the chance to travel with us to see the problems of slavery firsthand. You can check that opportunity out HERE.
If you aren't a blogger, please consider subscribing to our Exodus Road Newsletter, liking us on facebook, or following us on twitter (@theexodusroad).
*********
Laura Parker | Laura Parker Blog | @LauraParkerBlog | The Exodus Road
:angel:
I Had Planned On Awesome (A Motherhood Story)
Jan 08, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Mae
I'm pretty sure I knew I'd be a good mom.
I remember when I worked in a restaurant in high school and some of the employees were all standing around and talking about our futures when I said, "I want to be a stay-at-home mom." One of the men got down on his knees in response and asked me to marry him. He was joking, of course, but I'm pretty sure he was alluding to the fact that not many women wanted to be stay-at-home moms.
I don't really know, maybe I just looked extra cute that day. Either way, his "proposal" gave me a hefty dose of mommy-to-one-day-be self-righteousness.
I went to college and was a human development and family studies major, which to me meant great preparation for being a top-notch mom one day. I was planning on being a counselor so I could be home when my babes got home from school each day. I envisioned myself teaching my kiddos, baking with them, doing crafts, laughing all the time, and being just plain awesome. Yes, these were my future plans.
I got married, and less than two years later was pregnant. In my ninth month of pregnancy I quit my job and began the future I had always envisioned.
Except that after three babies, the "future" didn't look anything like how I'd planned it.
Eight years of marriage and three babies in and I was losing it. I knew I had so much to be thankful for, and that I should count my blessings, but all I was counting were the days until my next break.
I needed to get out, get away, and figure out my life. What had happened to me? I used to be vibrant and fun and ambitious, and I turned into an empty shell of a woman. I felt so lost, so tired, and so very alone.
I was supposed to be a good mom, I had planned on it, but I just felt like one big absurd excuse for whatever a good mother was supposed to look like.
I was drowning.
I felt desperate.
Some days, I even felt trapped. Like I was stuck in this life, this good life that I was supposed to be grateful for, but instead felt a growing resentment towards. How could I be discontent when I had everything I ever wanted? Talk about a conflict of the soul.
Friends, please hear me, I loved my babies to the depth of my being, and I would have died for them. I just had a hard time playing ponies with them.
And I still do.
I'm selfish and lazy, because it's my default, and it's easier that way.
But that is no way to live; there is no fullness in a selfish existence. And so in my conflict, of course I felt empty. On the other hand, I was genuinely experiencing feelings of desperation because I felt so alone in motherhood. I just needed help; I needed a friend, a mentor, an advocate.
I needed to know I wasn't crazy.
I needed to know God heard my whispers, my "I just can't be a mother today" cries towards heaven.
Well, He heard, and He answered, and He gave me a story to tell.
He gave me a story to tell all the other mothers who sometimes feel crazy, or overwhelmed, or confused with how to raise or discipline their children. He gave me a story to tell those sweet mamas who never had an affectionate mom to lean into and receive love and affirmation from. He gave me a story for the moms who feel like they have no support, or who some days, can't get out of bed because life feels just too hard. He gave me a story for those who feel like He's is too quiet. He gave me a story for those who wish they had a mentor, an older, wiser woman to speak into their lives. He gave me a story for those who some days, feel desperate to breathe.
He gave me a story, and I wrote it down for you.
But I didn't write it alone.
I wrote it with the woman that God gave me as an answered prayer. A woman who is wise and kind and gentle and gracious. A woman who taught me to steer clear of formulas and cling to the Spirit. A woman who has taught me to own my life and take responsibility for filling my soul with joy and delight. God brought me a gift in Sally Clarkson, and I'm going to share that gift with you, through my story, Desperate – Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe.
If you've ever felt alone in motherhood, or just so tired, or overwhelmed, or lost, or like you just can't breathe, this book is for you. It's for you on the good days and the bad days and the in-between days that sometimes feel so mundane you could scream.
It's all for you.
And today, DaySpring is giving away the book.
The Giveaway: THREE Desperate sets that include the book, a journal, and a tea cup:
For those of you who want to get their hands on the book right away, you can find it everywhere books are sold (including at DaySpring!). And if you purchase the book this week (the 7th-12th) there are some amazing gifts and giveaways for you (including a year of free house cleaning and a spa weekend away with Sally and me!).
You can learn more about all that by heading to the Desperate website.
ENTER the giveaway by filling out the form below:
a Rafflecopter giveaway
:angel:
Never Underestimate the Power of a Portrait
Jan 09, 2013 12:20 am | Dawn Camp
[Click the pic for an 8 1/2" x 11" printable image.]
I'm not sure why I feel the need to explain how I've volunteered my time each of the last four Decembers, as if it doesn't sound important or necessary enough without justification. I don't serve the hungry in a soup kitchen. I don't gather gifts for needy children in other countries.
I take portraits for families in need.
I'm a volunteer with Help-Portrait, a global event coordinating the efforts of photographers, photo editors, hair and make-up artists, and others on a Saturday in early December since 2009.
This video from 2010 explains the concept:
The thought lingers that the worse the location I work, the more valuable the service I render—that it won't really count until I shoot in a homeless shelter—and yet every year's Help-Portrait reveals anew the truth that need isn't restricted by geographical boundaries.
In the four years I've volunteered with Help-Portrait I've photographed a man with one leg; a woman whose glowing skin is a result of the radioactive cream she rubs on her face to fight brain cancer; and a young girl, eight and a half months pregnant, that I photographed glamour shot-style, hoping she'll see how lovely she is whether anyone tells her or not.
You don't have to be a photographer to serve. At this year's event in Woodstock, GA, my husband earned the nickname "the baby whisperer" for entertaining little ones while their moms were pampered by hair and make-up. You don't have to wait for a Saturday in December, either: the What if I'm the Only One page has great ideas for anyone at any time who wants to do some good with their camera.
Interested? Join me by marking your calendar for Saturday, December 7, and volunteer locally in 2013. Get started here.
:angel:
The Calculated Swing
Jan 10, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Markley
I've always been the girl who needs a mirror to put on her lip-gloss. I tweak car mirrors to my advantage, borrow the backs of napkin containers at a restaurant and even use the rear-facing camera in my phone.
And today, I used the reflection of myself in the computer screen.
I'd been typing the beginning of a different blog post and the Times New Romans bluntly faced back at me. Black on white. Contrast on blank space. Words in the open.
For most purposes, what I could see was a barely-filled Word document. But then I looked a bit closer.
I almost didn't recognize that I could actually see myself in the screen's surface until I needed it and I began to search for it.
And there I was with white headphones streaming from my ears. I was looking back at myself with the beginning of a blog post as the layered backdrop.
There I am.
There I am.
It's a little bit like when those 3D posters filled every spare spot in the mall stores back in the early nineties. We stood in droves in front of them, tried so desperately to somehow shift our focus, and then pray that the 3D image would appear as perfectly as it did for my uncle and my cousin every time.
It was an eager search for a different reality in the same picture.
Sometimes I feel I live most of my life like a subdued Helen Keller, deaf and blind to what is really going on. I see what is stark and pointed and painful, even, but to see myself well or to see others well is a struggle. I don't see until I intentionally shift my focus to see what should be seen.
I react to discomfort and hurt and I fill immediate needs with the things that will fix. I look closely at the big things that wound and the big words that steal, but it takes a calculated swing of concentration to see what is true and what is real. It takes that purposeful searching to see myself.
January is a big month for changes. We want to lose weight or stick to a household budget. Maybe we want to overhaul our personal discipline for reading the Bible or exercising. Maybe we just want our lives to be different.
But different doesn't happen until different eyes are opened. Different doesn't happen until we see ourselves.
We have to open our eyes to what is in order to know what we need to do to change. And sometimes that is the hardest thing to do. To see ourselves for who we truly are is scary and to see our real reflections takes a courage that maybe we don't have.
But it's worth it.
Do we have the courage today to open our eyes?
by Sarah Markley, who is slowly peeking at her own reflection today
:angel:
How to Get the Most Out of Something New
Jan 11, 2013 12:20 am | Kristen Welch
She hangs her new sweater from her aunt in her closet, next to the new favorite pair of jeans she bought with the Christmas money grandma sent. I suggest coordinating the bright new scarf from her cousin. And I get an eye roll.
I should know better than to make wardrobe suggestions to my chic teen. I'll just pull up my elastic-waist mom jeans and move along.
The next day, I hear my 13 year old complain she has nothing to wear to church.
I mention the lovely new things hanging in her closet. "But mom, they are new. I want them to last."
And then I consider The Eye Roll.
Instead I laugh because I totally get her excuse. It's part of our culture, this world that offers new car fragrance spray at the carwash. We love new. New is perfect, clean, never been used. We save up, negotiate, bargain for new things. New is untarnished by old and not impacted by mistakes, time or distress.
There's nothing wrong with new, especially when it's valued in relation to the old.
As we enter this brand new shiny year, we can get the most out of it by abiding by a few principals:
Enter it with gratitude: No matter how we leave the old year, we should offer thanks for it. We should express gratitude for another year of loving God and our families. Even on hard days, we can choose gratitude. We will never regret thankfulness. It's a seed that blossoms into fruit that fills us with joy.
Focus: I'm not much into making resolutions. I feel like I'm setting myself up for failure (perhaps I just know myself well). If you choose goals or resolutions, try to narrow it down to a simple focus. Our family likes to choose a word for the year, a word we need more of (last year was faith) or one we want to show (like gratitude). However you enter this new season, focus on tangible ways to achieve what you're after. Small steps that will lead you to a new place.
Grow into it: I like to buy my kid's clothes off-season. It saves money, but I have to buy bigger sizes because they keep growing. Often the year ahead can seem daunting. How will I achieve my goals? What will happen if? The questions loom. We can worry and fret or we can just take a step and grow by grace into all He has waiting for us. Healthy things grow.
New things are exciting! Who doesn't love something fresh, tied up in a big red bow? But when I reflect on my daughter's words about her clothes in the closet, it's the disappointment I hear most. It's the question mark that is hanging when the new is gone and we are left with what we have.
It's there we discover our two choices: contentment or depression.
Because in truth, something new really brings something that will become old. And when the tags are gone and the new car smell fades, we are left with what we started with. It's the perfect opportunity to be content in all things: whether good or bad, new or old. When we put on the New Year, we are given the chance to reflect Him.
And Christ in our hearts never gets old!
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
When You're Worried About Achieving Your Goals
Jan 12, 2013 12:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
Your heart's desire.
I'm sure you've been making lists, praying about goals, wanting to do better this new year. A time when you feel an opportunity to start fresh. A new day with no mistakes. 365 of them.
I must confess. I don't follow the instructions of motivational speakers. I don't write down my goals. Yes, everyone tells me that's the way to make things happen. The secret to living your deepest longings. To get it done.
{Something inside me just can't bring myself to write or type them out. Maybe I don't have a specific list. Maybe it's so permanent once it's on paper. Maybe my goals don't seem big enough.}
Honest? I'd rather sit with a good friend over a chai latte and converse about the stirrings that are deep within my soul. The kind that only start to make sense when I feel like I'm fumbling for the right words, but say it out loud anyway. To whisper a thought that has been noodling around in my mind but sounds even crazy to me. The kind of heart dreams that only God can accomplish.
Lately when talking with other women along my path, I've realized that few live the dream God has for them. It seems like I'm in the minority of those who've said 'Yes!' It seems the yearly written resolutions to do more just don't work.
The other morning, I was reading my YouVersion Bible app daily reading. This verse has stayed with me for a week. Yes, I've read it, heard it and seen it on plaques in homes before. But when the Holy Spirit is about to teach me something, it lingers.
"Trust in the Lord and do good. Then you will live safely in the land and prosper. Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you your heart's desire." – Psalm 37:3-4
Seems like an equation worth pursuing. An easy one at that. Be happy in God and He will give you everything you want.
{Or maybe not.}
Before this verse, King David tells us not to envy others and their success, even those that are evil. Then, he tells us to trust in God and do good. And finally, he gives us a command to find joy and pure delight in our God, to experience great pleasure in His presence.
I think about who I experience great joy with and it hits me. I really know those people. I've shared my life with them. I love and adore them. I can tell you memorable stories about our lives together. Some that will make you giggle, while others may bring a tear. And they know me just as well.
I'm also committed to each, whether as a wife, daughter or friend. I entrust myself to them and know they each care for me deeply. I trust them with my well being, my body, my possessions and my heart's desire. I know they each want the best for me.
So, why do we think God won't do the same in an unattainable-by-us, perfect way? He waits for us to make Him the desire of our heart. Then our desires change to His will and He freely gives us the desires of our heart. {which are now His. . . and ours'.}
It's a beautiful exchange that creates close love with the Father, makes us more like Jesus and enables us to finally 'live' for the Lord. He will give you the desires of your heart.
Take delight. It's not an 'if you feel like it.' But a command to take joy in our Lord. To find Him at work. Thank Him for all our moments. To be the bright joy in the dark that only comes from The Light.
When we take delight we gain the very thing that was our goal all along {whether we wrote it down or not}. To draw close to God and truly know Him. We have joy once again. And something wonderful happens. . .
King David tells us to 'Commit everything you do to the Lord. Trust him, and He will help you... Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for Him to act." Psalm 37:4-5
Then God will act. He will achieve His goals that are now yours'. Your heart's desire is filled. . . with Him.
___________________________
In this New Year, what is your heart's desire that can only be accomplished if you 'Take delight. . . and commit everything you do to the Lord'? Won't you share it with us?
I love how Francis Chan encourages us: "I don't want my life to be explainable without the Holy Spirit. I want people to look at my life and know that I couldn't be doing this by my own power. I want to live in such a way that I am desperate for Him to come through. That if He doesn't come through, I am screwed."
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Jan 13, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works.
And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do,
but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near.
Hebrews 10:24-25
:angel:
The Year I Didn't Go To Hilton Head
Jan 15, 2013 12:20 am | Deidra
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! In the meantime, this month we're delighted to be featuring a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about. Then be sure and register here — it's FREE!
Did I ever tell you about the time I didn't go to Hilton Head with the ladies from (in)courage? Who am I kidding? Of course I didn't tell you. It's not something I like to brag about. Because it's not brag-worthy. But it's the truth.
For each of the past three years, DaySpring has invited the writers of (in)courage to a retreat at a beach house on Hilton Head Island. The first year I received the email inviting me to join the crew, I nearly fell off my chair with excitement. I got up and danced around the family room. I slid across the kitchen floor a la Tom Cruise (with pants on). I could not believe I was being given such an amazing opportunity! I was rejoicing! My husband had to bob and weave to keep from running into me as I cavorted about in my glee.
Well, the closer the time came for the actual get together, the more nervous I became. I'd read the words those brilliant and brave (in)courage women wrote and I'd feel less and less sure that I would fit in. My resolve began to seep out of my pores like garlic after a meal at the Italian restaurant downtown. I kept "forgetting" to book my flight.
In the end, I made an excuse and I stayed home that weekend. I regretted every minute of it. Photos and blog posts about the retreat on Hilton Head were all over the internet, all weekend long. For weeks and months afterward, those photos and blog posts just kept coming. I was miserable. I cried. I sulked. I chided myself for being so small and so weak.
At the end of that miserable weekend, my husband looked at me and said, "Listen. If they ever do that Hilton Head thing again, or if they ever meet up anywhere, anytime, ever again...you're going. Whatever it takes. You're going." He hardly ever tells me what to do, and when he does, he's not joking. He's dead serious.
So, the next year, I went. And it was glorious. We're just women. Women who don't have all the answers, and who laugh loudly, and who cry big tears when our hearts have been broken. We have fears and insecurities and amazing talent and spectacular faith in God. And sometimes our faith disintegrates into dust and we do the wrong thing or speak the wrong words. Because we're women. Just like you.
I'm telling you this because I know there are women who didn't get to (in)RL last year – for whatever reason. I know there was a lot of talking and Tweeting about it. There were photos. Lots of photos. And it may seem as if you were the only person who didn't experience (in)RL.
Maybe you tend to shy away from community altogether. Maybe the thought of trying to fit in sends you into a panic. I just wanted to let you know that I've been there. But you should know that, when you're not there, you are missed. I want you to know that yes, you'll fit in! You might sweat through your t-shirt, or lose your breakfast on your way to the small group, or lose sleep the night before. But it will be worth it. It will. We were meant for each other. God made us for community. As bad as that sweaty shirt, or lost breakfast, or sleepless night might sound, they don't come close to living life without community.
How do you feel about walking into a group of women you've never met?
Have you ever talked yourself out of an opportunity to experience community?
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
Read More | Leave a Comment
Perfect Plans
Jan 15, 2013 12:10 am | Kim Hyland
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! And these are a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about and come and join us. Register here — it's FREE!
Saturday I hosted an (in)Real Life meetup . . well kinda. You know, the one I've been planning, posting, and Facebooking about for a month now. The one I talked to all my friends about, invited the ladies from my Bible study to, announced in church. The one I prayed over, planned for, got way more creative than is normal for me, stayed up way too late to prepare for, woke up way too early Saturday morning cause I was so excited to welcome my friends.
Yeah, that one.
It was an incredible day. Full of surprises.
Like a failed internet connection.
And it didn't fail until everyone had arrived, and it was too late to cancel what I had scheduled and promoted as a full one-day retreat. I had no "Plan B."
"Man makes his plans, but God directs his steps." Proverbs 16:9
As I made frantic calls to the internet company and tried every technological option my very "un-techy" mind could think of, I prayed pleading prayers.
"God, do you see me here? Do you understand how badly I need this internet to work? How disastrous this is going to be if it doesn't? What the heck am I supposed to do with all these women who've come to my house with the expectation of a really great time of learning and encouragement that I am totally unprepared to deliver WITHOUT THIS VIDEO?????!!!!! I love you. You're really great. Pleeeeeeeease. Amen."
Slowly, the undeniable reality of my predicament began to settle in. My heart was in my throat. Hiding in the bathroom and crying was a tempting but unrealistic option. God and the internet remained silent.
Defeatedly, I looked up from the computer. And I saw my roomful of friends milling around my kitchen enjoying coffee, fruit, and pastries. The warm buzz of conversation was filling the air. Not a single one of them looked like they were ready to cry mutiny. Instead, they were all smiling, engaging each other in conversation, laughing, communing. They looked surprisingly like . . community.
The vision for the (in)Real Life event was to connect women to real life community. The kind you can touch. It wasn't the way I planned, but what happened accomplished exactly that! Using the handouts as our discussion starters, we had phenomenal conversations. Our hearts were knit together and to God. We laughed, cried, worshiped, learned, and ate. Old friends were reunited, friendships were strengthened, new friendships were birthed. We enjoyed and celebrated community. It was an incredible day.
I'm looking forward to purchasing the (in)RL dvd, inviting back all my gracious friends plus all those who couldn't make it, and enjoying the wisdom of the (in)courage writers.
The truth is I'm still a little disappointed that we didn't get to watch the lovely ladies of (in)courage as they sat sharing on the couch. But by God's grace . .
. . we got to be them.
By: Kim
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
:angel: :angel:
Ruined For Good
Jan 16, 2013 12:10 am | Lysa
If you have kids, then I'm sure you've felt the frustration of having things ruined. Maybe you've experienced grape juice on the carpet, scratches on hardwood floors, permanent ink on your favorite shirt, or something similar. Ashley once went up the stairway with a crayon putting tick marks on our freshly painted walls with each step she took. Then she dragged the crayon all the way down the hall to her room. Yes, I said freshly painted walls. I wanted to pull my hair out by the roots!
I'd like to be a mom who handles mishaps and messes with a graceful, "That's okay, Dear." But I'm wired with firecrackers in my blood. So, I have to make the choice to let the Holy Spirit reign me in. This means getting into God's Word every day and praying for Him to give me grace, patience and self-control. I have to make the choice every day to invite God's spirit to interrupt my fleshly tendencies so that I can have gentle answers that turn away wrath.
God helps me with this through perspective changers. He shows me a different way to look at and process things that trigger my emotions. In response to my frustration with my kids ruining things, He gave me a sweet change of perspective that improved my outlook and diffused my anger.
While visiting Art's parents, I took a liking to a writing desk in their home. I mentioned to my mother-in-law that I'd love to have it if she ever decided to get rid of it. But she was quick to tell me that she would never get rid of it because it was priceless. She unlatched the fold-down lid to reveal what made this desk so priceless. In a little boy's handwriting the letters A-R-T were scratched onto the surface. She admitted to being angry with my husband when this happened, but now the scratches that seemed to have ruined her desk are priceless treasures to her. Her little boy's handwriting is saved for her to cherish and remember. The desk had been ruined ... for good.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Sometimes it can be really hard to keep our emotions in control when things don't go our way. In Lysa's new book, Unglued, she shares personal experiences and scriptural wisdom to help us make right, godly and healthy decisions with our reactions. Click here to order your copy today!
:angel:
Hints of Future Passions
Jan 17, 2013 12:40 am | The Nester
When I was a new mom it seemed like the toy stage would never end. At 11 and 12 my two youngest boys are aging out of most toys. My oldest stopped playing with toys at 13 and LEGOs are the only toy my youngest two have played with for a few years. Recently, I walked into their room and I heard them playing but they didn't know I was there. And I heard some of the most beautiful noises I've ever laid ears on. Sound effects of airplanes and ATVs and dogs barking and pretend scenarios with natural disasters, waterlogged motorboats and fast moving motorcycles, it was glorious and I never wanted it to end. I could have sat there all day I begged for time to stand still.
I'm the girl who played Barbies until I was 15 (yes, that's years, yes, I'm embarrassed) and I know how that one fresh piece can spur hours of creative play. Looking back, I wasn't actually playing. I didn't care about the dorky dolls, I was creating houses and decorating. Now I see how that served me so well. And I think it's the same with my boys. I watch for signs of future passions as they play. One builds for building sake to see what he can create, another plans escape routes for disasters.
I'm looking forward to another year of pretend and creativity. I want it to last as long as possible.
Do you remember playing as a child that seemed simply fun and pointless at the time but looking back it fed into a passion and helped point to who you were created to be? A journal? An art set? A baby doll? An Easy Bake Oven? A pocket knife...
:angel: :angel:
Getting Out Of My Box
Jan 17, 2013 12:10 am | Paula
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! And these are a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about and come and join us. Register here — it's FREE!
Sharing my life on this little place in cyberspace is pretty easy for me to do. I'm just typing the words onto my screen. I'm not having to actually come up with the words in a face to face conversation. That is hard, and I like the easy life.
For (in)RL I got out of my box. I got out of this computer box where I do a lot of my socializing and went face to face. It all started a couple of weeks ago when I saw the invitation to (in)RL. The premise is to meet these cyber friends in real life. These people who live in your real community, meet face to face. We all share a common heavenly Father, now let's come together as the sisters we are.
It was really nerve racking for me. I had reasons I shouldn't sign up.
I'm too introverted, so I'll have a hard time talking when I get there. I don't know anyone. We're moving that week, so I'm just too busy.
My husband encouraged me to just do it, so I did.
I had little time to think about it much the next week, since I was trying to get all our belongings moved. Then it was done. We were all moved and I had time to think.
Then came more excuses. I have so much to unpack and catch up on. I really shouldn't go. I don't know anybody. Who would want to meet me anyway? I was stuck in a crappy attitude all week and wasn't sure if I could handle going into a crowded room with a bunch of women I didn't know.
But I went. I met some women that I had only seen on twitter, read their blog, and some I had never met at all, but they're my neighbors. Isn't this a crazy time we live in where we meet friends on the computer and find they live 5-10 minutes away!
I was not the only one there who had fears. I was there with normal women, women who have fears, women who have crazy lives like mine, some of them blog about it, and some don't. We were all there together – daughters of one Father, sisters relating to one another.
We heard some amazing testimonies of community and how God can work and show himself through it, via the (in)rl video. We shared coffee, chocolate, laughter, and some tears. We also had the opportunity to win some amazing prizes from Dayspring. I won this awesome coffee cup.
She didn't have to be perfect because she was... Perfectly Loved {1 John 4:8}
I am excited to do this again. Maybe some of these sisters can come to my house next time. I am most excited that these online friends are now faces that I've seen.
Thank you God for courage to make new friends!
Thank you (in)courage for putting this un-conference together!
Thank you Allison and Anna for being the sweetest hosts!
By: Paula
Photo courtesy of Dawn Camp
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Mothers, Strangers...and Angels
Jan 18, 2013 12:20 am | Robin Dance
It took me a split second to process what was happening when he fell on top of me; though my feet were planted in the check-out line at Walgreens, I was a thousand miles away, agitated and completely out of sorts.
*
*
*
I'm convinced satan delights in the chaos and conflict that so often accompanies a family getting ready for church. Left socks and right shoes mysteriously go missing, an empty milk carton replaces the "full" one from last night, the gas gauge salutes the "E".
And on a Sunday morning a few weeks before Christmas, my husband and I had an argument, the kind where no one and everyone is right. The ride to church seemed twice as long as smoldering silence displaced the miles.
Worship was good, living water extinguishing fire, but residual embers flickered on the way home. At least softening conversation replaced the previous ride's silence.
We had attended the early service because we were hosting a dozen students for dinner that evening. Living less than an hour from my daughter's college, we thought a home-cooked meal for her and her hallmates would be the perfect exam week kick-off.
The menu was simple, two different soups, cornbread, salad and my oft begged for White Wine Cake; since everything was homemade, it would take a while. We had picked up a Christmas tree the day before, and though decorating it and the rest of our home usually takes me a few days, I wanted it pretty for the girls. On top of all this, having just returned from Germany, I was still jetlagging.
I had a lot to do.
We ended up three strands short of lighting our Christmas tree; when I had pulled out last years' lights, ten strands didn't work or I could have easily finished the night before. To make efficient use of time, after church we decided to stop at Walmart on the way home; no matter how much I detest going there, no one does one-stop shopping better and as inexpensively.
To my dismay and duress, they were completely out of white lights. Three weeks before Christmas, and not a single strand of plain white lights at Walmart?! I couldn't believe it; it would mean another stop elsewhere.
Grumbling and inconvenienced, I completed our shopping. Time was ticking. Mentally prioritizing what was realistic to accomplish with the remainder of time I had until the girls arrived, I begrudgingly pushed decorating to the end of my list.
Still, since it was right across the street, we decided to stop at Walgreens to pick up lights there.
My husband and son waited in the car while I ran inside. Right away I found 100-count white lights, furious they weren't on sale. I've never paid five dollars for lights! I picked up three boxes and stormed to check out.
Thankfully, the line was short, three people including me. Apparently the lady at the front had a morning like mine, raving and ranting to that poor cashier about "bait and switch" and "the flyer is very deceptive" and "I just don't think that's right to do that to your customers" when Customer #2 in line decided to cut things short.
Without a sound, he passed out on top of me, my body breaking his descent to the floor.
We froze as time stopped.
When my brain caught up two seconds later I squatted low, my face close to his. His head turns toward mine and I wonder Alcohol? but his eyes wide and clear tell me no, and I'm ashamed for thinking it first. A single tear punctuated the outside corners of each eye. I noticed that.
"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Lord, Lord, what do I say or do next?
"Oscar Hendley," his soft reply.*
I grasped his wrist so he could feel life and I could feel his, and though I don't recall ever feeling hot and clammy skin before, I sensed it immediately.
The cashier squalked into the telephone, "Someone call 9-1-1! We have a customer who's passed out!" and it sounds far away though she's two feet from me.
"Mr. Hendley, do you know where you are?" and he whispers "The drugstore." There's an odd reel of Marcus Welby and ER running through my mind, and subconsciously I'm rolodexing for something more current. First aid classes, life saving training, CPR...anything. Wisdom, Lord, peace...."love him with words" is what I hear, so I do.
I keep wanting to loosen his non-existent tie. He's dressed neatly – tan sweater, brown pants, loafers – and I ask him if he'd like me to help him remove his black leather jacket. His skin is hot but he shakes his head no.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Five, he says.
"Can you tell me your birthday?" May 28th.
"Which one did you celebrate this year?" I want him to think. "I'm 71."
"Well, I wouldn't have guessed that, Mr. Hendley, are you sure you're telling the truth?" and that curls his lips but only a little.
The pharmacist is by my side now and she asks if he has a Med-alert bracelet on. I feel stupid for not already checking his other wrist (but he doesn't).
He's got a bag of prescriptions in his right hand still holding tight, no interest in sitting up. He tells me this has happened a time or two and that he was actually going to the doctor today. I wonder if he's confused because it's Sunday, but I don't question him further.
The pharmacist has returned with her blood pressure cuff and I hear sirens coming closer. A police officer walks in.
I back away as they pull him to a chair. I recount to the officer everything Mr. Hendley told me and he scribbles as fast as I'm speaking.
There's nothing left to do but pay for my lights.
The cashier is kind to me.
"Are you a nurse?" she wants to know. No ma'am.
"Are you a teacher?" she asks with an ignited curiosity. I notice that, too. "No, ma'am, I'm not a teacher."
"WELL, HOW WERE YOU SO CALM? HOW DID YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO?" and though I didn't feel like I did anything special, I shrugged and replied with the truth of what moved my feet to action, why I wanted this grandfatherly gentleman to feel love and compassion if he was frightened or alone.
"I'm a mom."
*
*
*
It was only later that it would occur to me that my Divine Appointment with Mr. Hendley was a gift. My children are older now and they don't need me in the ways they did when they were little; Christmastime is one of those seasons where it is most obvious, and though I love the ages they are now, I find myself looking over my shoulder toward yesteryear.
And, then Mr. Hendley comes along and reminds me that I'll never stop being a mother, and I wondered...Could I possibly have been showing kindness to an angel?!
I wish could thank him.
* of course I didn't use his real name!! :)
:angel:
Know Your Calling
Jan 19, 2013 12:20 am | Amber Haines
My blog has been quiet lately, contrary to my plan. Life always does what it does, and some phases last longer than we ever dreamed they would. The holiday season gave us time with family down that Alabama dirt road, and then an ice storm landed us longer than planned with Arkansas family around the fire. My four boys roared in cousin-laughter, sat in the laps of grandparents, and walked quiet ridges watching for squirrels, learning to listen in the silence of the woods.
I, too, have felt so secret, hearing Spirit speak, the conversation growing longer, waking to the voice in my heart still drawing me in. It's a funny thing, too, all the joy that's happening in the quiet.
If you were to peer into my life, you'd see the actual facts. They would list out like a monologue from Debbie Downer. My youngest child struggles to keep from infection, and he struggles to grow. We can't explain it, and it weighs on my every thought, and add to that how my boys actually just watched our dearly loved dog be crushed in our driveway; Grandma just called to tell me goodbye as she thought she was passing from incredible pain; my closest aunt this week slept for a while and then woke in the arms of her maker.
Somehow in my processing after the shootings in Connecticut, I snapped awake and said "of course." This is all of course, how things get much, much worse before they get better. I keep thinking about pain and what a flash in the pan it has to be compared to glory. It's either that, or God isn't real.
Struggling through I read Ephesians 1. Paul wrote to the church in such a corrupt time. The church had a tendency to act sick, misplace hope, how it still does now, and so he prayed for them, that the eyes of their hearts would be enlightened, that they would know the hope to which they had been called. He reminded them of the true kingdom, the glorious inheritance and the authority, power, and dominion of Christ.
That's it right there! It's hard here, but our calling is to hope in this broken place, and hope calls pain temporary. Hope peels back the veil and enlightens our eyes. Suddenly I see the broken, see things as temptation to lose all hope and to sink low in the darkness, and I see Hope as the greatest element of faith.
Now isn't Faith the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen?
If we believe, the world can crumble and our very eyes witness destruction, but there behind the scenes, hope acts like a pin in my bones. I feel it now, as I long to be in the arms of my aunt again, I am infused with the knowledge of glory. It feels like the greatest of miracles.
Do you know your calling? Do you know the hope to which you've been called?
post by Amber C Haines
:angel:
Share each other's burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.
If you think you are too important to help someone,
you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important.
So let's not get tired of doing what is good.
At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing
if we don't give up.
Therefore, whenever we have the opportunity, we should do good to everyone—
especially to those in the family of faith.
Galatians 6:2-3, 9-10
:angel:
Prayer: Finding the Heart's True Home {Details & Schedule}
Jan 21, 2013 12:05 am | Jessica Turner
What to Expect
We're looking forward to kicking off this study on Prayer with you! Prayer: Finding the Heart's True Home is broken down into three parts. Instead of having the author of the book join us on the couch this time around, we've invited three close friends to join us to each discuss a section. And we're so excited to add Robin Dance's voice to the Bloom team! She'll be here on Bloom for each Chapter study, as well as adding to any discussion in the comments.
There are 21 chapters total in this book- so we'll be featuring about 3-4 chapters per week. Don't let this discourage you, you can always keep up with the latest video posts on Bloom and by subscribing to receive email updates.
You're also invited to join us on our Bloom Facebook Page to interact with other readers!
Buy a Book, Give a Book — and Get Free Shipping!
Right now on DaySpring.com, you can purchase a copy of Prayer for $14.99.
We try our best to make it possible for everyone to participate in the Bloom study, regardless of financial ability to purchase a book. If your financial situation is difficult and you are unable to purchase a book, you can request a free copy this Wednesday. We ask that you only request a copy if you truly can't afford the book and are willing to participate in the study. We have a very limited amount to give away and that will depend on how many sponsored books are purchased.
This is where we could use your help. If you are able to purchase a book for someone in need, DaySpring has set up a "Sponsored Book" option for you.
And when you purchase a copy for yourself as well as a Sponsored Book you can receive free shipping with code BLOOMBOOK! This code is valid on any two book purchase, so it will work if you'd like to purchase two books for yourself or two sponsored books. DaySpring will take care of delivering the sponsored book to a reader in need.
We are so thankful for DaySpring who is providing copies of Prayer for those in need of a free book. We are also SO thankful for each of you– for stepping in and caring for your fellow Bloom sisters by purchasing a sponsored copy. This need would not be met without you!
If you have any questions about the sponsored program, you can visit the FAQ page found here.
The Schedule
Wednesday, January 23: Free Book Request
Monday, January 28: Introduce Robin
Wednesday, January 30: Sponsorship Reminder
Monday, February 4: Prayer Giveaway
Wednesday, February 6: Announce Giveaway Winners
Friday, February 8: Introduce Section 1 Guest, RoseAnne Coleman
Monday, February 11: Chapter 1
Wednesday, February 13: Chapter 2 & 3
Friday, February 15: Prayer
Monday, February 18: Chapter 4 & 5
Wednesday, February 20: Chapter 6 & 7
Friday, February 22: Introduce Section 2 Guest, Melissa Greene
Monday, February 25: Chapter 8 & 9
Wednesday, February 27: Chapter 10 & 11
Friday, March 1: Prayer
Monday, March 4: Chapter 12-14
Wednesday, March 6: Introduce Section 3 Guest, Julie Hunt
Friday, March 8: Chapter 15 & 16
Monday, March 11: Chapter 17 & 18
Wednesday, March 13: Chapter 19-21
Friday, March 15: Prayer/ Wrap Up
Can't wait for you to join us!
Love,
Jessica, Angie, & Robin
:angel:
10 Things I Learned from (in)courage Community Groups
Jan 22, 2013 12:20 am | Stacey
I love that (in)courage truly has built a place for the hearts of women. I feel at home here and it is filled with the most amazing women who are chasing after God and letting His hand write all over their lives. I'm so grateful to be here, aren't you?
This past fall I started hanging out with the leaders of our (in)courage community groups called (in)couragers. They opened the doors of places online for like-minded women to gather, encourage each other, and connect beyond the blog post. It was like watching little lighthouses of encouragement pop up all over the internet. It was a beautiful sight to see. I also learned a few things along the way as well, and I thought I'd share them with you today:
If you are breathing, you can encourage others.
Everyone needs encouragement.
You don't have to be perfect in a perfect stage of life to encourage someone. You just have to be willing.
We are like Jesus when we encourage.
Hanging out with encouraging women is a good thing.
Prayer is a great way to encourage someone.
Social media was made for encouraging.
Encouragement is like a good cup of coffee on a cold day – it warms you up from the inside out and helps kick start your day.
For women, encourage is a love language.
(in)courage gets encouragement.
We are busy right now planning for our second session of community groups. During our next round we will be expanding existing groups and opening new ones. Our plan is to start on February 12 and go through the end of April. I hope you will make plans now to be part of it. We'll have a place just for you. I promise.
"So speak encouraging words to one another.
Build up hope so you'll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind.
I know you're already doing this; just keep on doing it."
1 Thessalonians 5:11 The Message
:angel: :angel:
Some #inRL Thoughts
Jan 22, 2013 12:10 am | Julie - dutchbeingme
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! And these are a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about and come and join us. Register here — it's FREE!
Over the past couple of years I've been an (in)Courage stalker. Periodically reading a post here and there... finding nuggets of wisdom, being humbled and/or encouraged, as well as learning about myself – and that I'm not alone – along the way.
And then I heard about the (in)RL "conference" that would be held locally all over the world. That anyone could join in no matter where you lived. And then my friend Jen said that she would be hosting one in nearby Grand Rapids.
I was in. Even though I was skeptical about what I was going to learn and wondering who I was going to meet while there. And especially with how I've been feeling about my faith lately. {But that's a whole other story for another time.}
Words cannot begin to express the gratitude that I did. Not only did I cry on Friday night... I felt a leading to do something and take a chance like I haven't felt in a long time. On Saturday, I met new friends, reconnected with those I've known and felt a peace throughout it all.
There were wonderful words spoken by so many gifted women. There were stories of community, stories that brought hope and stories that brought tears. And there was chocolate. {An essential for any gathering of this type!} :)
The one big thing that I walked away from this all is that I need community. I need people surrounding me. Whether this is family, "in real life" friends or "online buddies"... I need people that know me and know my heart. People that understand when I say that I'm "fine" or "ok" that my world is silently falling apart around me and that confusion is reigning supreme. People that will rejoice with me in where I go next and cry with me about how scared I am. People that will assure me that all will be ok.
I don't know where I'll be a year from now. I may be here in Holland... in Grand Rapids... or maybe in another place somewhere around the world.
But I do know one thing.
I will always have my local community. My blogging friends. And the (in)courage community.
And I will be at {in}RL in 2013. I'm already looking forward to it.
A very special thank you to the team of authors and everyone behind the scenes at (in)courage and Dayspring for putting this together. And especially to Lisa-Jo for being on twitter Friday night, and for what seemed like the ENTIRE day on Saturday (and most of Sunday too)... the inspirational messages and tweets that she shared throughout the time online was uplifting to so many and each of us was blessed by the work that she did.
Did you attend an (in)RL gathering? What were your thoughts?
By: Julie
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
When You're the Mean Girl
Jan 23, 2013 12:20 am | Angela Nazworth
I recently noticed a statement floating through the Twitterverse that stopped me cold. I am not sure where it originated, but it read something like this: "Men shouldn't try to understand women. Women understand women and they hate each other."
I'll admit it. At first, I giggled at the ironic sentiment. There is at least an ounce of truth to the quote that I found humorous. But after the initial hilarity waned, I felt sad because ... well ... there is at least an ounce of truth there. Not always, but sometimes.
If we're going to be really honest with one another, then we'll all admit to having had our feelings hurt by other women. And while we're riding the truth train, let's also admit that the gal staring you down in the mirror has the potential to be a big ole meanie too.
Am I stepping on your toes? Forgive me. I'll give you some space and focus on my own mean girl tendencies for a moment.
Whenever I allow fear or insecurity to grab the steering wheel of my heart, I make poor choices. Honestly ... there are times when I make downright ugly choices. I'll give you an example.
Until I reached my mid-thirties, many people identified me as the "cute little blond." I'm convinced that I didn't look a day older than 23 until I hit 34. That's also the year I gained those 30 pounds I haven't been able to shed. Being "tiny" was part of my identity. Being young and girl-next-door cute was part of my identity. And while those were only ways to pick me out of a crowd, I placed a high value on such characteristics.
So here comes the not-so-nice part.
Sometimes, when I am around women who fit nicely into the "cute and little" mold ... or even worse, the "gorgeous, sexy and shapely" category ... discontentment settles deep into my core and I begin to mentally dissect the flaws of those other girls. I'll silence my tongue and keep my smile honey sweet, but my mean girl's mind will be churning with thoughts like "Vanessa's complexion is looking a little splotchy today," or "Katie's eyes really are quite large for her tiny face."
My critiques don't end with the young and beautiful. You should see how ill-mannered my inner grammar snob behaves when I'm self-conscious about my intelligence. And oh how I've mentally dissed Rachael Ray and Paula Deen those times I've overcooked chicken or burnt cupcakes.
It is true that my tearing down is mostly limited to celebrities and women I don't know at all, but does that make it any better? I don't think so. Here are a few reasons why.
Just because I don't know those women and my thoughts may not even reach their ears doesn't mean God doesn't know them ... and it certainly doesn't mean that God cannot hear my heart. When I look my mean girl tendencies straight in the eye, I also become uncomfortably aware that entertaining them means I'm arguing with God. His word tells me that we are all wonderfully made creations and not some dime-store knickknacks to be examined and tossed set aside as unworthy.
The flaw-finding is also damaging because although it might give me a five minute ego boost, it is a lift that's based on the lie that my value as a human being is measured on beauty, talents and mental faculties. What I wrote above applies me as well ... to all of us. I cannot recognize my true value when I am trying to efface the beauty and talents of others.
Lastly, allowing my inner mean girl center stage rights is a tragic waste of time. It's a waste because such self-centered behavior hinders love. It tempers service and acts of kindness and makes me a lazy giver. My time ... my life ... would be much better spent offering encouragement to each person I encounter and keeping my heart and actions focused on glorifying God and not my fragile ego.
"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching." Hebrews 10:23-25.
:angel:
25 Point Manifesto for Sanity in 2013
Jan 24, 2013 12:20 am | Ann Voskamp
Nearing the end of January, first month of the year.
Now things are starting to get hard, and new habits, those things that we wear, start to wear thin.
Feeling a bit overwhelmed and not sure how to overcome.
So we nail it to our doors — our 25 point manifesto for sanity in 2013.
1. First things first: Word in. Work out. Work plan.
Open your eyes every morning and just do three first:
Word in: Get into God's Word and let it get into you.
Work out: Work out. Even 5 minutes or this is better than nothing.
Work plan: Write out the work plan. And then work the plan.
2. "What a heart knows by heart is what a heart knows"
Write your memory verses on a sticky note, on a chalkboard, for your pocket.
Because when you are memorizing Scripture, quiet time with the Lord — becomes all the time. (Who doesn't want that?)
3. Flame first.
Light a candle first thing in the morning.
So you remember: You are the light that is put on a stand so that it gives light to everyone in the house.
4. Your work is art: it needs a soundtrack.
Find your music.
Play your music.
Sing your music. This is profound.
5. Step on the Snake Before Breakfast
Before breakfast, crush one hard thing that is tempting you to think there are impossible things.
Before breakfast, crush that one thing and prove that all things are possible with God.
6. Stay in the pool
Michael Phelps said it in an interview: "You've got to stay working in the pool longer than others."
Set the timer. Get in the pool. Stay in the pool. Do you work. Don't get distracted. Don't flit from one thing to another and back.
Don't get out of the pool, don't leave your work, until the timer goes. The way to win is to stay in the pool.
7. Clean a space = clear headspace
Keeping the workspace clean, clears your headspace to think.
8. Go Slow. Life Zone.
Life isn't an emergency. It's a gift.
It's so extraordinary it warrants going slow, held in reverential awe.
Only the slow see their lives. Which makes it seem longer and richer.
9. Take your Laughter vitamins
The more you laugh, the longer you live. You can't afford not to laugh more. Watch this. Make laughter your chocolate.
10. No songs without rhythm
Every song needs a rhythm; every week needs a routine. Tie certain tasks to a day or another activity.
Always memorize after breakfast or always make a double batch of soup on Saturday.
Your life makes music when you play a string of tasks always together.
11. On 25, Take 5
For every 25 minutes "in the pool" working – take 5 minutes off. Live by pomodoros. Really. Life-changing.
12. Unplug to plug into your purpose
Only if you want to plug into peace and purpose and your big picture – then unplug for certain hours everyday.
Constant connectivity effects productivity like a marijuana high.
13.Watch Your Nos & Your Yeses will take Care of Themselves
Everything you say yes to, you say no to something else.
Are your yeses forcing you to say no to what really want to say yes to?
Don't have guilt over a no – because every no is saying a better yes.
14. Daily Stillness Appointment
When is your 5 minute stillness appointment everyday?
Write that midday time in stone. No cancellations allowed. For 5 minutes midday, be still and cease striving.
Know He is God and the day looks very different.
Slow down: You only pass by this way once.
15. If the Heaven's Declare, get out there.
The whole of the sky and the world is speaking endlessly of His glory.
When you step outside and listen, your soul revives. You need that.
You really need one walk outside a day.
16. Work on your Wall before Noon
Before noon, work on your wall; lay three bricks down before 12.
If you don't intentionally work on your wall, the tyranny of the urgent can make your life a rubble heap.
Like Nehemiah, build your wall, building what God has called you to, 3 steps everyday before noon
17. Envision the End Goal
Like God gave Abraham a vision of the stars of the sky and told him he would have that many children, hang up a picture so you always have a vision of your goal.
18. Consistently be Consistent
Random acts of greatness pale in comparison to habitual acts of faithfulness.
It's not what you do every now and then, but what you do everyday, that changes everything.
Do something at the same time everyday and you find yourself a new person.
19. Hard Stops
The only way to get anywhere safely is to make complete stops.
Make hard, complete stops at set times throughout the day to pray. Otherwise you're risking a crash.
9, 12, 3, on the hour, might be times to set an a gentle, chime alarm for – and just stop and pray.
Praying at set times throughout the day is how both Jesus and the early church lived their days: God marking time.
20. Do the Holy, Happiness Habit
Write down 3 things a day you are grateful for. Hunt for His glory. Look for the beauty. Count 1000 gifts.
All research says that giving thanks is guaranteed to make you 25% happier. Who. Doesn't. Want. That.?
Thank Him for this is definitely God's will for you in Christ Jesus.
Take the Joy Dare! Make right where you are your happy place.
21. Ebenezers for the Efforts
Mark little milestones! Celebrate the little things!
A treat at the end of the day, end of the week, end of the project, end of the term.
Hang a bunting. Taste something sweet. Take a happy, thumbs up picture to mark your progress!
Make an album of a year, of the process, of the overcoming.
22. Father Affirmations
You need these everyday. Whisper them aloud, who you really are if you are IN Christ:
I am complete in Christ. Colossians 2:9-10
I have direct access to the throne of grace through Jesus Christ. Hebrews 4:14-16
I am free from condemnation. Romans 8:1-2
I am assured that God works for my good in all circumstances. Romans 8:28
I am free from any condemnation brought against me and I cannot be separated from the love of God. Romans 8:31-39
I am confident that God will complete the good work He started in me. Philippians 1:6
I have not been given a spirit of fear but of power, love and a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7
23. Breathe
Breathing in and breathing out like this will radically change the quality of your life. Breathe.
24. Hard and Bad? Hot Bath
An evening routine of a hot bath at the end of the hard and bad days?
Yes.
25. Rest so you can have the rest of God.
Sleep is more than your friend — it's your God-given fuel.
Tomorrow always begins with the night before, so turn in early so tomorrow can turn out well.
~ Written for you with love, by Ann Voskamp
photo credit 1 and 2
Q4U: What else do we need to keep our sanity in 2013? Let's all jump in and help make this a resource when we are overwhelmed: What verse, what song, what comfort, what great idea — got a link for us? What really works for you when you are overwhelmed?
(Reading in RSS or email? Jump into the comments right here: We're all helping each other out here!)
:angel: :angel:
(in)RL: I Heart Community
Jan 24, 2013 12:10 am | Mel
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! And these are a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about and come and join us. Register here — it's FREE!
I've talked about (in)Real Life a lot lately. And I'm going to talk about it again.
Just today. Promise.
It's just that it was SO. SO. Incredibly. GOOD.
Here's the thing. When I signed up for it ages ago, I was pumped to meet fellow (in)courage readers and bloggers...and just make some new friends. That's totally the ENFP in me. Truly all about relationships.
But I also knew I couldn't host a meet-up, though I did consider it. Too many factors weighed in on that one, and to top it off, I had committed to leading a workout that morning just a few hours before it kicked off. I watched the meet-up lists for weeks, sure that one would be happening at least somewhat close to me.
It didn't happen, and I was disappointed. I knew that if I attended one of the closest ones to me, it still meant more than an hour of driving one way, and I didn't have it in my day.
Instead, I mentioned it to a friend.
I've got an awesome community of girlfriends here. Oh, they're like coffee with extra-yummy creamer on a gloomy, rainy day. They just make my life better, sweeter, and more alive. But the one thing we don't have in common is blogging. Some of them enthusiastically read my blog, and I so value that they show their love to me in that way. But they don't follow other blogs, and so I knew they didn't completely understand what a huge part of my life this place called (in)courage is.
But I opened it up anyway, asking if any of my friends would like to join me.
And two of them did!
Our day looked different from most (in)RL meetups. We already knew each other.
But we still brewed the coffee, ate some awesome food, kicked up our feet...
And something happened that day.
We walked away knowing each other's hearts better. Because let's be honest...we all have joys and sorrows and need those people to love us and pray for us and just be there for us.
I've been so thankful for this community of love that God has given me...but I'm even more thankful now.
As we watched stories unfold...
...like incredible ways God answered prayer for dear sisters-in-Christ
...and how God used a woman who was willing to be obedient to reach many, many women in Kenya
...like the reminder that we were created exactly as He wanted us to be...and WE. ARE. BEAUTIFUL.
...and listened to the beauty of blended voices as women from around the world read Truth together
...we laughed together, we let a few tears drip together (ok...that was probably more me ), we shared our hearts, we loved a little deeper.
We were community. We still are.
The day didn't end up looking at all like what I had originally thought it might...but I have no doubt that God was in it, and He worked it out exactly as it should have been. He knew what I needed more than I did and met me exactly where I was. As He always, always does.
Thank you to my beautiful sisters at (in)courage for giving us this incredible weekend! I want to hug you all! What a blessing you are...and will continue to be...in my life.
Oh, I heart community!
By: Mel
Photo courtesy of Dawn Camp
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
:angel: :angel:
Sometimes when you step out in faith, surrender and hope – you won't always get the result you expected. That happy ending might not be there yet, and in fact, a big curve ball might be ahead instead.
What do you do when everything you expected God to do turns out to be wrong? When an entirely different (and unwanted) path is before you?
Those prayers that you sent up, when they brought back peace, was it all in your mind? When you felt God put it on your heart that things would get better – was that you making it all up?
Oh girl. Will you take a big, deep breathe with me?
Exhale.
Here is what I know for sure.
The truth is, sometimes we are wrong. Sometimes we hear God wrong. And many times things go wrong, and it's not at all what we wanted or expected.
And that is OK.
It really is ok.
Those things you were wrong about? That was just the beginning of this beautiful path you are on. That curve ball is headed at you so that you can learn to stretch and bend and avoid the hit.
There is so much grace. Grace for being wrong, grace for having the expectations of our own plan instead of His, and grace for stumbling around and — yes — even grace for losing hope. And those prayers ALWAYS are heard.
God wants to pick us back up, gently dust us off, and set us off onto the next path (that might hold another curve ball for us, still).
It's that growing and stretching (and oh, it's so uncomfortable) that strengthens the soul muscle more and more. Makes us so much more like Him.
So today as I see that curve ball coming at me, I'm remembering these words on grace and stretching. It's the beginning, not the end.
***By Arianne, To Think Is To Create
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Jan 27, 2013 08:15 am | incourage
Therefore if you have any encouragement
from being united with Christ,
if any comfort from his love,
if any common sharing in the Spirit,
if any tenderness and compassion,
then make my joy complete by being like-minded,
having the same love,
being one in spirit and of one mind.
Philippians 2:1-2
:angel: :angel:
Are You In Need Of A New Year Makeover?
Jan 26, 2013 12:20 am | Melissa Michaels
Do you ever just feel like you want to throw everything you have in the garbage and start over?
Your disorganized house. Your stuff. Your clothes. Your furniture. Your miscellaneous boxes. Your old flabby body. Your kids. Whatever.
Well, of course I'm joking, kind of, but you know what I mean, right?
I'm just talking about being in that season where you are ready in general for a new start.Sometimes you just reach a point where you are tired of how things are. You don't feel like things are working for you anymore and you are ready to do something about it. Maybe you have just been through a tough season or have let parts of your life or health or home fall apart a bit. You know you need to make some big changes. And you desperately feel like you are ready for a fresh perspective.
The new year is motivating for setting new goals and planning a few "life makeovers."I've made many new years resolutions, and the challenge is to be committed to work on those areas of your life for the long haul, not just until the end of January! My goal is to commit to changes over the course of a year, with several manageable goals along the way.
Last year we were really ready for some focused reorganization and updates around our home, after a long season of pressure establishing a church plant and a start up business.It seemed like a really big and exhausting undertaking to get reorganized at home while continuing our efforts to manage the church and business, but we were determined to catch up on some much needed repairs and projects that were weighing us down. We knew in the long run, these changes would energize us and help us to be more productive and at peace at home.
By the grace and blessing of God and our perseverance to complete projects, one year later we now have a home that feels much more under control. We worked on updating our entire main floor and master bedroom one room at a time (or sometimes several at a time!) from the front door right on through the house– everything feels so much better and more under control now! We can start this year knowing we are much more organized and on top of things than we were the year before! That is a great feeling.
If you want, you can follow along with all those home updates and before and afters at The Inspired Room!
This year my husband and I are giving our marriage a little makeover. We are re-establishing time to just have fun together and we are setting some boundaries on our crazy schedules. We are going to start walking together for fitness and to give us time together away from the house. We have some other ideas of things we want to implement to keep our marriage growing and close. After seeing the results of our "home makeover" last year, I'm excited to see how we can strengthen our marriage (by the grace of God) as we focus more time, energy and prayer on that area of our life this year.
Which area of your life would you like to makeover this year? By the grace, blessing and mercy of God, and some determination and goal setting on our part, it is exciting to see that we can make positive changes and makeover parts of our life in 2013.
:angel: :angel:
One Painfully Obvious Thing a Genius Taught Me About Life
Jan 28, 2013 12:20 am | Emily Freeman
My laptop had issues, so I made a a Genius Bar reservation at the Apple store. (Genius = the computer smartees who stand behind the counter and answer your questions about computer-y stuff. Also it just took me three tries to spell 'genius.' I felt the need to confess that).
On the day of my reservation, I show up with my laptop and a handful questions about some stuff and some things. I pull out my MacBook, open it up in front of of the Genius, and start to explain my woes.
He is kind and patient and doesn't call me stupid. As I'm talking, I notice how filthy my keyboard is under the perfect computer light of the Apple store. I mention this and think for sure he will take my laptop to the back room and wash it with some super special Apple-grade, Steve Jobs approved washer cloth.
This is not what he does.
Instead, he pulls out an alcohol wipe from a plastic container behind the counter and swiftly wipes my keyboard clean. It looks new in three seconds.
No magic Apple grade washer cloth.
Just a simple, cheap, I-bought-this-at-Wal-Mart alcohol wipe.
I've had a filthy keyboard for weeks, months maybe. But I didn't know what was safe to clean it with. So I left it dirty. Filthy dirty. Like a kid.
In that moment, I realized something I've known about myself but continue to learn with maddening regularity: I make things too hard.
For a long time, I did this with writing. I'm not a real writer. Real writers already know how to do stuff. Real writers get picked. Real writers don't doubt themselves.
Those kinds of thoughts ruled the day. Until a message built up inside me for so long that my desire to get it out of me outweighed my fear of doing it wrong.
As it turns out, I actually am a real writer. And I don't need a decree from the King of Words or magic dust from the Writer Fairy to tell me so.
You actually are something, too.
You have something to offer.
There is a trail of beauty just waiting to be left by you.
And you don't need permission, from Steve Jobs or anyone else.
Q: Are you waiting for a Genius to tell you that you already have everything you need? Are you making it too hard? What are you waiting for?
"His divine power has given us everything we need for life." 2 Peter 1:3
By Emily Freeman, Chatting at the Sky
:angel:
Moms and Me.
Jan 29, 2013 12:20 am | Annie Downs
My friend group has changed significantly in the last ten years.
While my life place hasn't [still single at 32], the majority of my friends have gotten married and many have had children.
Whether we want to say it outloud or not, it changes things.
Sometimes, in the coolest of ways. In fact, my best friend's six year old son tells people I'm HIS best friend. I don't argue. I kinda agree. He's the coolest. I love being around the offspring of my friends- it's like tiny versions of the people you choose to be around anyways. Who can hate that?
But with the change comes some challenges as well. There are times when I'm frustrated with my mom friends and times when they are frustrated with me. Our lifestyles are so different – our free-time so different – that there are times when the chasm of diapers and naps seems too wide to cross.
Yesterday, a mom friend of mine wrote about all the ways that singles can better love moms. It's such an interesting conversation I think. Because you are in one of those camps- you are a mom with mom-ish responsibilities, or you aren't.
So here are a few of my thoughts on how moms can help grow those relationships with non-moms.
1. I like being around your kids. But I know you need to get away sometimes too. So let's balance- I wanna hang with your kids while you are there because I love them. But when you need a break and want us to grab coffee or a glass of wine, just say! [And if you don't like being around kids, non-mom friends, that's totally fine! But you need to communicate that lovingly and honestly.]
2. I don't mind babysitting. But I'm not your babysitter. If you're in a pinch or me and the kids have talked about making that cookie recipe every Sunday at church, duh. Call me. But babysitting isn't my side job. I'm a friend who loves your family. It's different.
3. Tell me how I can help. If your baby just had a massive diaper blow-out and the big brothers need to be entertained for forty minutes while you have a moment, call me. Let me come over or bring dinner or grab that other kid from soccer. Don't assume I can't/won't/don't want to help. I want to help. Trust that I will say no if I have to/want to.
4. Can I meet some of your husband's single friends? Please? Because if y'all like him, I might too.
5. Remember that I'm busy too. I almost burst a blood vessel in anger a few months ago when a dad made an insensitive comment on twitter about how singles have no idea what it is like to be busy. True, I have never been a parent. But here's what else is true- that guy has NO IDEA what it is like to be single in 2013. So to make the assumption that I don't get "busy" just because I don't get busy birthing is really hurtful. Be honest with me about your daily struggles and when you feel overwhelmed, that's not complaining. I want to hear about your life. I promise I won't assume what it is like to be a mom if you don't assume what it is like to be single today.
6. Tell me no. If I call and want to hang but you are pooped out or pooped on, just say. I can handle it. [And dear non-moms, if your mom friend has to say no, that's not your cue to write her off. Just try again another day.]
7. Send me home. Johnny pitches a fit and Katie is riding the cat around the living room and you feel like our conversation is making you lose your mind because of all the crazy going on? Just send me home. I can handle it. But I'll tell you this, if you send me home five hangouts in a row, I'm probably going to be a little gun shy to hang out again.
8. We're gonna make it. You're still you. I am still me. We picked each other. So no matter what season of life, I want us to be in it. Together.
The other truth? You may disagree with all those points and feel totally different. That's fine. What matters is that you are honest and open with the moms in your life about what you need as a non-mom. Just like with all our relationships, using words and honesty dripping in love and kindness, even when it is scary, is always the best thing.
I think this is a super important conversation to have... so no matter where you fall on the mom spectrum – not one, almost one, one of many, I'd love to hear your thoughts.
How can non-mom friends know and love and better understand their mom friends?
How can mom friends be a loving friend to non-moms?
By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs
:angel: :angel:
I Clicked A Link And Said Yes
Jan 29, 2013 12:10 am | Tami Vanhoy
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! And these are a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about and come and join us. Register here — it's FREE!
(in)courage, I clicked the link, said 'yes...I'll attend', sealing it with a $10 commitment (which is like a $100 commitment in my current budget!).
(in)courage, I resisted the urge to back out the night before, using my oldest son, home on leave from the Navy as my reasonable and understandable excuse.
(in)courage, after driving an hour and a half to the event and circling the block no less than 3 times once I got there, I talked myself out of turning around and going home when I got to the address of this home I'd never been to – and there were no other cars parked and no indication that an event was about to be held here.
(in)courage, I put on my best 'extroverted' smile, dug deep to find my best 'extroverted' personality, stepped out of the car and said 'Hi, I'm Tami'.
One might think I was going before a room of women to present myself for judgment and validation, feeling sure I would be the one standing alone, left out of the 'click' because I just didn't measure up. I wasn't...was I?
How ridiculous was my fear? After all, I was going to a meeting of other like-minded women, put on by the founders of (in)courage, part of the DaySpring company. The event was called (in) real life ~ (in)RL ~ and the theme was 'community'. I should have been excited to meet women who read the same blogs I read and worship Jesus as I do. Instead, I was filled with insecurity and trepidation.
Why in the world did I sign up in the first place?
Obedience.
Psalm 143:8 ~
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,
for I have put my trust in You.
Show me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
I just knew I was supposed to go.
When we come to God on a daily basis and start our day with this question "what do You want me to do today Lord?" we also have to be ready to obey.
And so, I walked in the door with my plate of Mini Pecan Pie Muffins... dying to self and living in Him. After almost a year of hiding and healing some deep wounds, I knew God had asked me to make this step so He could strengthen and encourage me for His purposes and His plans.
When my flesh is afraid, worried, intimidated.... If I am walking in obedience I just need to lift up my soul to Him and He will strengthen me for the journey.
And so my reward for obedience?
....Some new friends ~
...inspiring conversations
...encouraging exchanges
...and new possibilities
I am sure and confident of this ~ my God does not do random things. He has a plan and is weaving a beautiful tapestry for His glory and our good.
The women I met on this predestined day had varied stories to tell of how they came to this one event, and all I could think about was 'why God...what are you weaving here?'
I know it will take time for me to see the purpose for each thread of the tapestry. Threads that He purposefully chose to weave together on this day, at this home, at this time in our lives. I have time. I'll keep asking Him, 'what today Lord', and one day I'll stop and realize this particular tapestry is done and each one of the beautiful women in the picture above will be represented by their contributing threads.
The recipe today is: What Today Lord?
The ingredients are from: Psalm 143:8
The directions are: trust God completely, without question or hesitation. Step boldly in obedience, knowing His love is unfailing and He desires to show us the way to go.
Prayer:
Father, I am blessed by Your daily, even minute by minute, care for me. Your Word tells me...promises me...that You cherish me and desire good things for me. All I need to do is seek You, follow You and obey. Even if I obey 'scared'...You do not condemn my fear but replace it with strength and courage. And so, Lord, each day I come to you asking "what today Lord?" Give me eyes to see Your leading and a heart ready to obey. Thank You Lord, for the blessings of obedience. Keep my eyes wide open to seeing even the smallest of blessings each and every day I follow Your lead. I trust You Lord. I'm lifting my soul up to You so You can fill me up, one day at a time. I come before You in the name of my Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
By: Tami
Photo courtesy of Dawn Camp
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
:angel: :angel:
Living In The Moment When You Only Have The Here and Now
Jan 30, 2013 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray
wet petals gentle at my feet
I'm not sure where I'm heading.
The morning has barely breathed its warmth on the grass. Winter still blankets the hillside, with tree limbs stretching out and bare, like the arms of a child sleeping, tousled out of her grandma's quilt.
I just know I need to keep walking.
Otherwise, I'd just stay in my bed.
I'd pull up the covers and close my eyes, even though I can't fall asleep.
And then, when the hands on the clock tick tock towards noon, I'd get up to make myself some lunch.
I'd ready my heart and gather my strength.
To pick up the kids from school.
I'd ask how their day went, as I walk with them, arm wrapped around their shoulders. I'd hear about Ronny and blacktop soccer, how TJ and his friends played Star Wars at second recess. I'd make a big fuss over the cottonball snowman with crazy eyes that sweet CJ squished together with Elmer's glue that left his little fingers sticky from preschool.
I'm present with my children, as I pull out the fridge door, count two mozzarella cheese sticks, slice some apples and place some Wheat Thins on plates for a snack.
But, as they munch and the afternoon sun starts to cast it's rays through the window, touching my shoulder, stretching long and warm into the room, onto the wooden floors, I remember.
I remember how I spent my morning.
And how for this one day, I tried to live in the here and now. With Jesus.
I whispered tears as I lay on the pillow –
Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life's tempestuous sea
Unknown waves before me roll
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal
Chart and compass come from Thee
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.*
I play this song over and over. They form the only prayer that feels strong and true.
Chart and compass come from Thee
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.
When All You Have
Living in the moment sounds beautiful when you have the freedom to rest — when you are able to reminisce the good times and dream about the future.
But, what if God brings you to a place in life, where all you have is the here and now – when all that surrounds you are the problems of today, wounds of the past and fears of the future?
And what if the here and now is painful, disorienting and difficult?
When rest doesn't come easy — when you are overwhelmed by life's breakers — where does someone like me go?
I know that some of you will tell me, Be still and know that He is God.
I know this because this is what I've been telling myself over and again, like a magic wand whose pixie dust has somehow run out after so many shakes.
But, how can I be still when my head feels dizzy, my stomach nauseous and I can't stop the memories?
You don't have to suffer from post-traumatic stress like me to understand there are storms in life we can't avoid.
This place of no man's land is where I've met my Savior, crying out among the waves and the winds of what I don't understand.
How long do I have to stay in this place of just the here and now?
I want to get back to moving forward — get back to doing — even if it's just a work in progress.
I'll do whatever it is you want, I plead. Just tell me what to do.
There Was No Sail
Maybe that's how Noah felt, as he stood in the ark, lurching and chaotic, with wild animals screeching and his grandbabies tummies seasick and unhappy.
Maybe after so many weeks passing by, closed in by the same monotonous storming, with death and darkness wiping all signs of life outside the ark, Noah longed to see the stars twinkle again.
Maybe Noah struggled to fathom what life after the flood would look like, when life as he'd known it could never return to be.
Perhaps even though Noah knew God would not forget Him, his days still dragged on like a thousand years each morning he woke up to more rain — and still more months of waiting after it did stop, because the waters still left him stranded.
God took painstaking effort to give Noah the blueprints and details of the ark that would save him from the flood.
But, among all the minutia of measurements of timber, windows and even the door, God left out two specifications.
There was no sail. And there was no rudder.
The ark was not designed to be navigated.
The fate of everyone who trusted God enough to walk into the hollow of the ark — and allowed the door to be closed — was placed in the hands of God.
Maybe we were never designed to steer this life, to go the way we want.
Maybe peace isn't instantaneous, but a conviction to run into the arms of the One who can love us in mist of our storms.
When all we have is the here and now, we can allow Jesus to pilot us where He wants us to go.
Living In The Moment By Faith
Living in the moment — when we are doing it by faith — calls us to let go of trying to steer the ark.
Living in the moment — means surrendering to –
– the realities God wants us to live into,
– the things God wants to do in us,
– the people, dreams and places He wants us to let go of,
– the friendships He wants us to enter into,
– the beauty He wants to soothe our hearts with,
– the words of love and deep acceptance He whispers for us to receive.
Maybe you might be tempted to feel as I do, that feeling sad, fearful, or anxious is dangerous territory we shouldn't travel through.
But, for some of us, these are the very waters God has safely charted us to enter into.
Because with Jesus, we are being rescued from all that needs to be let go.
With Jesus, He can take us through the flood and all that it's washing away.
With His arms of compassion, heart heavy with our pain, Jesus is strong and gentle enough to carry us safe through the water.
Even though the waters may run wide — and life as we know it is being all washed away.
Pilot Thee
Jesus will guide us to safe shores — even as we lean weary and unable — onto His chest.
Jesus whispers to us,
I know you are weary. I know you are worn.
Come.
You can be sad.
You can feel lost.
Don't wait until you're no longer fearful.
Come now as you are.
I will pilot thee.
These are the words that follow me, like the first petals of spring wafting through the air.
As they drift into my heart, I drive to the mountains where I begin my steps along a dirt path.
Today, I've decided that I will get up from my bed and go walking.
Even as my thoughts tell me all my cares are still with me, I look down and I notice.
Petals have just scattered so softly, the morning rain hasn't drowned them into the asphalt.
I look up and see the wind blowing cherry blossoms from the stem — and I see beauty staring at me.
In this moment, my here and now lies in these petals.
Because I know Jesus just brushed them to my feet.
Tomorrow Will Be Kinder
One day, our days of trusting will bring us to Mount Ararat.
We will remember it wasn't sin that kept us in the ark.
It was our faith in Jesus that gave us courage to stay pressed into His embrace.
Even as the storms swelled and swept.
We will remember the few and faithful who kept company with us in the ark, as they spoke as friends, pitching in the dark.
On the days that are hard, remember a time will come – when tomorrow will be kinder.
Then, you will be able to shed tears as I have, a little less silent, more held and beloved.
You don't need to know where it's all heading.
The One who loves us — who calls us His Beloved and carries your tears in a bottle — does.
And He's with you.
Here and now.
"You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book."
Ps56:8
~~~~~
How is God calling you to live in the moment — in the here and now — with Him?
Pull up a chair. Take a moment to speak from your heart.
Click to comment and read each other's thoughts here.
~~~~~
* Lyrics taken from "Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me" by Robbie Seay Band. Click to listen.
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith in everyday life.
Join Bonnie and faith friends on her blog, as they travel the journey of faith together, swapping stories one moment at a time.
:angel:
On Being (in)RealLife
Jan 31, 2013 12:10 am | Anna
We're counting down to April 26 & 27 when our (in) real life conference kicks off! And these are a few of our favorite posts from women who participated in last year's event. We're sharing them here so you can get a peek at what all the excitement is about and come and join us. Register here — it's FREE!
This weekend, I went to a virtual beach house with nearly 30 other women. We savored chocolate cupcakes and drank hot coffee. We put our feet up, scooted together on couches, shared blankets, laughed and cried.
Every day, posts from (in)courage make their way to my inbox, and every day I read them. For over three years, (in)courage has made their site a virtual beach house, a 'home for the hearts of women.' We gather in that online space to reflect, share, learn, pray, and encourage one another. Last September, they announced their 'un'conference called (in)RL {RL = real life}. (in)courage would provide the content via webcasts, and we were to gather in our communities and just be together in real life. Before I could think about it, I bought a ticket and created a local meet-up immediately. See, getting together with girlfriends isn't easy for me. First of all, it seems that whenever a group makes plans, someone has to drop out at the last minute. Something always comes up that gets deemed more important than girlfriend time. And how many times have you dragged yourself out of the house to get together with someone when actually, you really didn't want to? Let's be honest... staying at home in our sweats is easy. Saying 'I'm fine' is easy. Letting a friend leave a voicemail is easy.
goodies loaded in my trunk, on our way to inRL
Thanks to (in)courage (and to the Lord, for putting the prompt on my own heart and Allison's, who graciously offered to co-host the gathering at her inlaws beautiful home), nearly 30 women gathered just north of the Twin Cities. We drove from all over the state, wearing jeans and waterproof mascara, just to be together for a few hours. The chocolate was rich, the coffee deep, the conversation sweet.Not risking our hearts for friendships sake is easy. But gathering with women that we've never met before, dropping the 'fine', really being present with one another... that's where the beauty lives. And the funny thing is, I adore hosting. Baking and decorating and remembering little details and greeting at the door and fluttering around... bring it. I love it. But letting my guard down and being real... that's where the trouble lies.
It was so good that I don't even have any pictures – we were so busy being together that we even forgot to take a group shot! Gah.
Mason jars filled with shells and sand and candles were placed around the home, as well as a few lovely products from DaySpring. We prayed and wept as women spoke to us about community, something that we deeply crave and manage to all too easily evade. But on this rainy Saturday, we didn't shy away. We bravely left our homes and families and drove and found each others hearts in a basement room. 1300 other women did the same thing, in 20 different countries. Impressive, isn't it? And I do believe that heaven resounded and satan trembled and our hearts glowed softly as we gathered in real life to praise the One who created us for real life. I believe that in our being in community, in our choosing to hug beyond the screen, in our being brave, we made Him proud. I can't wait to do it again.
———-
You are able to purchase the webcasts and study guides and the super cute (in)RL tshirt. Tell me, who will you gather with in real life? Who are your girlfriends?
By: Anna {girlwithblog}
You're each invited, you know. It's free, it's fun, and it's so rewarding to connect with other sisters in Christ beyond the blog post. Tune in from home on Friday to watch the Webcast and meetup with friends on Saturday and watch together. Go on, you're much braver than you think. Just CLICK HERE to register.
:angel: :angel:
I'd Never Been Told That Before
Jan 31, 2013 12:10 am | Jennifer Schmidt
Clutching the crisp, white note, I held my 20 year old breath as I reread the words scribbled on the stationary by the Director of Admissions at my university.
"Jennifer,
Thank you for your servant leadership this year on our Personal Touch Admissions staff. Your hospitality welcomes each visitor, and your quiet and gentle spirit blesses each one."
I wept. I'd never been told that before, and doubted its validity.
Since childhood, that "quiet and gentle spirit" mentioned in 1 Peter 3:4 served as a reminder that my extroverted and outgoing personality would "never" achieve that elusive Godly disposition.
It started in Kindergarten when that first school progress report reached home. A check mark indicated 'lack of self control' with the accompanying comment, "Jenny needs to stop chatting with her neighbors," and so it began. An endless cycle of second guessing.
By the time I could actually pen New Year's Resolutions, each year's list contained some form of "You'll be more popular if you'd be like the quiet girls. Stop talking so much. Don't talk."
As my identity shaped, my tender heart failed to embrace the other remarks. The ones where the teachers scribbled, "Jenny is a friend to everyone. She always has a smile." Those words didn't matter to me. I wanted to be one of those sweet, quiet ones.
I saw myself as a talker and I didn't like it. I identified this "character flaw" early on and set about determined to stifle how the Lord wired me.
Decades later, time stood still as I leafed through my Junior High Diary. Earlier this evening, I opened to this very page, and as I read, it placed me right back in my childhood bedroom. Emotions overwhelmed me.
"I have totally changed my image. Now I am not "Big" Mouth Jenny but much better."
Much better? In comparison to what?
Oh precious twelve year old self – do you know that you were created in HIS image? The image of God? You are an image bearer of your Creator. He did not make a mistake when He formed you, and He certainly does not want you to spend so much emotional energy concerned with changing your image.
Haven't you heard your parents affirmation? The Lord has wired you in such a perfectly unique way. He has destined you to use your words for His glory.
As I write now, it's through the lens of a forty something year old woman who embraces the truth of scripture. I know that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, fully and uniquely accepted.
I have seen decades of the Lord's faithfulness with myriads of examples of how He has allowed me to use my gift of words to reach the kingdom, so how can I ever struggle with those same feelings that vexed that innocent junior high girl?
Recently, they reared their ugly head.
As our Compassion bloggers Peru team wrapped up our time together with a round table debriefing, a team member questioned the leader.
"With all the teams you've taken, have there been many instances where bloggers have surprised you or are different than what you thought?"
Since many bloggers are self declared introverts, I was curious as to what he'd say. I'd heard the stories of how difficult it was for many bloggers to travel cross culturally and personality played a large part in that.
"Jennifer." He responded to the question and looked at me. "I never thought you'd be so out going. You can't really tell that on a blog."
I was shocked. Seriously? Me? And then my mind started racing.
For all I know, he meant that remark as a huge complement and possibly that my "never met a stranger" tendencies helped take a load off his plate, but for me, I sat right back in Mrs. Dixon's classroom. All the little insecurities that I'd laid down years ago came flooding front and center.
My mind reeled in fast motion, cataloging all my actions of the past week.
Had I talked at inappropriate times? I mean, it was a very emotional week and I know I annoyed them all with my humming of The Sound of Music late at night. I guess when they wanted to write, I kind of wanted to talk through the experiences of our day...
Jen, stop it.
I knew that my exhaustion and emotions opened the door to Satan snagging a foothold on all the God things that had just occurred. I was not about to give that liar victory.
I thought back to 1 Peter 3:3-4, and what I knew to be true about a quiet and gentle spirit.
3 Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. 4 Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight.
1 Peter 3:3-4
The first verse is fairly clear cut. Let's not become consumed with appearances, but then there's that second verse.
What had I learned from my Admissions Director about true beauty?
After receiving that note, I spent hours of inductive bible study dissected that scripture passage.
This verse is not referencing a perfect personality issue, like I always thought. It's a "spirit" issue, a heart issue.
It's the "why" behind the "who."
My desire is to love the Lord thy God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. In doing that, it sometimes manifests itself through an outgoing personality, while at the same time demonstrating a meek and gentle spirit.
It took me decades to realize that truth.
Now does that mean a meek and gentle spirit ooze through me at all times? I wish. Does it mean I still have to work on practicing self control? Absolutely, but it means a stronger personality can still adorn a quiet and gentle spirit. They are not mutually exclusive.
In a way, it goes back to the coined phrase, "The grass is always greener on the other side."
Extroverts wish they had more introverted tendencies, and introverts wished they were more extroverted.
The point is God cares about our heart.
He desires for us to cast aside the labels we've carried far too long, and embrace who we were created to be. To bloom where we are planted with out striving for another image. We are created in HIS image, not some dressed up version of someone else.
When I think of my propensity for wordiness, I remember:
Jen, always listen more than you speak.
When you speak, speak with discernment and love. Speak with passion. Speak boldly, and always speak words of blessing and encouragement.
If this is true, then I welcome the assessment, "I never knew you were so outgoing."
Can any of you relate?
Do you hold onto old labels from child hood or personality traits that you've wished away for far too long?
I'd love to kick those to the curb with you. If you choose to share them in the comments, I'd be honored.
Shared by Jen (or Jenny, if you knew her before she was 18, or Jennifer, if you're being properly introduced.) One of those three share her journey of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam at her lifestyle blog or at her newly launched food blog, 10 Minute Dinners.
:angel: :angel:
The Art Film Phase of an Epic Adventure
Feb 04, 2013 12:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
The kids can be absolutely and utterly insane, but as soon as I crack open a book and start reading out loud, the room quietens. They want to hear the journey through the pages I'm about to take, and a mere few pages in, the three are huddled around me, eyes poring over pictures and minds absorbed in the story.
The sermons that stick with me most are the ones that take me on a story. Either through vibrant illustrations from the speaker's life or a unique allegory told to pierce my heart in just the right way, it's the stories that best stick with us, not the three-point application. Admit it—it's probably the same for you.
The movies that best suck me in and leave me hooked until the credits roll are the ones with a fascinating, remarkable plot—the Bourne series, Jane Austen adaptations, Ocean's 11 through 13. It's the same with the small screen—how else would early twentieth century England be fascinating without the Crawley family and the servants below?
We all love a good story.
And I believe we're all in the thick of a story—our own personal Story, where we're the protagonist. God is the author, and He's orchestrated the perfect setting, characters, conflict, climax, and resolution for our storyline. And our own individual stories, from birth to death, are all part of One Big Story, a beautiful, redemptive plot that leaves us hanging gape-mouthed with wonder and obsession (I'll give you a hint about the end though: it all works out perfectly. Better than we could ever imagine.)
But if you're like me, sometimes my Story isn't that terribly exciting. It feels easier to live out a good story when there's adventure, chaos, and danger, and I've been there before. But that doesn't comprise most of my life. Really, my days are mostly spent changing diapers, getting dinner on the table, paying our mortgage, and going for runs. It's hard to believe you're in the thick of something exciting when your days are—well, less so.
What does it look like to live out a good, relevant, gets-me-up-in-the-morning Story when it still just feels like.... regular life?
Believe it or not, there is encouragement that the mundane is still part of a Good Story. Parenting and living the day-in, day-out of raising three kids is not exactly erupting volcanoes and chasing after the bad guy and falling in love Victorian-style. It's a lot of daily grind.
What gives me encouragement, then, is that the daily grind is shaping me into a better character for my story. Easy stuff doesn't make me stronger. It's the hard, repetitive challenges that build and shape me into a character worth reading. God's not in any hurry to build His characters and then set them off in order to rush to the climax of the story. He's a better storyteller than that. He'll get there.
William Wallace had the darn English to contend with, but it was his early years of turmoil that shaped him perfect to lead the Scots in battle. Lizzy Bennett endured ambiguity, her position in Victorian England, and her mother, but those were the things that made her into a remarkable character we all root for when Mr. Darcy finally comes around.
Those daily drops of character-building were in their stories, too, but we don't really see them.
No life is grind-free, but that grind can be more fun—or at least better-endured—if we trust in the Author of our story, who's got the perfect climax and resolution in mind. Whether our plot feels more like currently in the character-driven art film phase or in the epic climax of tossing a ring into the fires of Mt. Doom, it's all stellar. He has an adventure for all of us.
He hasn't forgotten about you and your laundry-folding days or your hours spent in a cubicle. You're the perfect character for the story He's crafted just for you. And it's gonna be awesome. The angels are popping the popcorn right now, I bet.
What sort of movie is your life like? How do you find contentment during character-building moments?
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
Who Am I? I AM.
Feb 05, 2013 12:10 am | Stephanie Bryant
Warm rays poured down. My face and forearms felt giggly to meet a friend they had missed, the sun. Children played near the fountain with coats draping, begging to come off.
My dad's arm reached around me and gave even more warmth. We sat on a bench enjoying the spring like weather in the middle of winter, waiting for a lunch table after church.
I leaned over to my parents and told them my simple epiphany during the sermon that morning. . ..my identity is in Christ.
Yes, I realize so basic for a Jesus follower. But yet such a huge concept I have come to fresh realization time and time again. A reminder of who I am, in I AM.
The Spirit reveals this is something I've been struggling with and didn't even realize.
I dream for her, the little one that we've longed for, prayed for. I wonder what God has in store for her young life. Great Kingdom plans I pray, for her and the role she'll play for His glory.
And this makes me wonder if I have lived the Kingdom-Role I was destined for. Have I fulfilled the mission God had in mind for me before the foundation of the earth? Has my life up to this point counted? {Don't we all want to know that?!}
As He knits our baby girl together in my secret place, I'm curious about her identity and mine at the same time. I'm transitioning to a new role of mother and I couldn't be more thrilled. But there are so many unknowns looking forward and curiosities looking back.
I will have a new name, mother. I will experience new pains and longings and new joys unspeakable. I am transforming into a new creation yet am still me. Nothing has been taken away, but only added. The juggle, the balance, the curiosities. . . they abound.
I watch others. I wonder. I start to compare. I try to sift through the advice, what not to do, the life examples. But God calls me back to my real identity. An identity that doesn't need a fancy title, to be made important, or be concerned what it looks like from the outside as if a grand accomplishment.
I AM tells me I am His. My identity was never my own. My plans are futile apart from Him. Only His plans matter. Only He can accomplish Kingdom work through me. My identity is hidden IN HIM.
This is what I would say to my daughter someday. I pray to understand it myself so she won't only hear the words but she will see a life that reflects the very ideal.
Doesn't that make you take a deep breath? It does me. The pressure is off. The duties are gone. The wondering is ceased.
I know that He has good plans for me He put forth in advance. He tells me so. {Eph 2:10}
I know that His identity is more important than mine. He tells me to make Him known and not myself. {Col 1:27}
I know that I have died to this life {and continue to do so each day as best I can} but my REAL LIFE is hidden with Christ in God. {Col 3:3}
I soak in this truth like the rays of sunshine I feel on my skin.
Are you struggling with your identity? Are you overwhelmed by the possibilities? Do you want your real life to matter?
Be with Christ in God and let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. {Col 3:15}
:angel: :angel:
Searching For Snow
Feb 05, 2013 12:10 am | rachel
This morning I jumped out of bed because I couldn't wait to peek out the window and see a snowflake. First I checked my phone to view the radar and sure enough the radar was indicating the precipitation falling outside my window was in fact snow.
At first I couldn't see it so I turned on the porch light and peered out into the dark morning. There it was... snow. My eyes teared up. Every time it snows I cry.
I am not an extremely emotional person but snow makes me cry. It is a reminder of grace for me.
Though the winter is cold we get to experience the beauty of snow. Snow is a gift from God. The white powder blankets the dead, cold earth and everything looks fresh and new for a time.
Lamentations 3:22-24
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him."
This morning the snow reminded me of the mercies of God that are new every morning. As seasons and temperatures change God is still faithful to reflect his beauty, majesty and power.
In winter He provides snow which blankets the earth with its beauty.
In the spring when the earth is soggy and muddy, and the thunderstorms are roaring God provides daffodils and other early spring blooms.
In the summer, for relief from the heat, God provides the coolness of water.
And of course in the fall, only God could imagine creating leaves to turn their most beautiful colors right before they die and begin to decay.
His mercies are new every morning, great is Your faithfulness.
God is faithful. With every change of season there is no surprise; there is death and beauty. The old season is gone and the new season is coming. If God is faithful to give us new seasons, of course God is faithful to provide new mercies for me every morning.
Raising my kids in the church has been a great blessing. Not because they will learn to "be well behaved" or it will "look good on their college applications to have been involved in church." It is nice because all around you there are parents who have walked in your shoes, or we could even say, "in your sweatpants."
The other morning God's tender mercies arrived to me in an email from a friend in church who witnessed my frustrations with parenting from the night before.
She wrote:
A word of encouragement from Proverbs:
Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6
When my children were young, I wondered why the word "old" was in Proverbs 22:6. Now I realize that when our children are young, it is the season of life when we train and train and train and train and train. We sow for a very long time and MUCH later we reap. Our consistency and perseverance during the younger years is exhausting, but it is worth it! Time passes so quickly! You will reap in a season to come, but now you are in the season of sowing and training. Keep up the good fight! If you need additional encouragement, the book of Proverbs was my go-to book when my kids were toddlers.
Have a day filled with the assurance of God's promises.
What a blessing to find in my inbox that morning.
The little years are tough. For me it is a season like the coldest winter. Where is my snow?
We have been training...and training...and training...It takes exactly what my friend said to me in her sweet note: consistency and perseverance. It is a marathon and not a sprint.
The goal is not good behavior, a good resume, a decent job, or that they will turn out okay. The goal is godliness.
I don't want my children to be good, I want them to fear the Lord, to serve the widows and orphans, to have a heart that loves God and walks with Him in repentance and faith.
We pray a lot for and with our kids. In the past few months we have been teaching the boys to pray following ACTS model of praying: adoration, confession, thanksgiving, supplication.
I say the underlined parts and the italics are words they come up with on their own.
Adoration: God you are so...
(big, strong, mighty, you made us, you love us, you protect us)
Confession: God, I'm sorry...
(for not listening, not sharing, for hitting my brother)
Thanksgiving: Lord thank you for...
(my family, friends, our house, for forgiving us and for loving us)
Supplication: Lord help me...
(stay in my bed, help me obey my mom and help me love you more each day)
There is my snow. The tears seem to flow when I listen to my kids pray. Just like when I witnessed the snowflakes falling. This is a tough season but there is grace. There are little mercies here and there.
God is present. He is working. God is using the friends in our lives like my porch light this morning to help us see things we can't, to remind us that this season will pass and soon there will be a harvest.
In parenting it can sometimes feel like we are staring out into the dark morning. The dark morning of nos and repeating the same directions over and over.
Search for the snow. If you can't see the beauty in the darkness find someone who has been there to shine the light and give you a little perspective.
His mercies are new every morning. He is faithful in every season.
:angel: :angel:
If You Ever Feel Called to Have a Platform
Feb 06, 2013 12:10 am | Holley Gerth
My toes slip through cool sand and find the first step of the boardwalk. It leads over a dune and onto the beach ahead. As I stand on top of it, I catch my breath. The view is breathtaking. My word sisters pause to look with me. We wrap our arms around each other's shoulders. It's good to be here together. I feel full and whole and grateful. My heart takes a snapshot of the moment.
Months later I stand on a balcony in another city, arms crossed. The view is beautiful too but I can't shake a restless frustration inside me. I think of all the expectations I feel like I have to meet, the duties I'm supposed to complete, the people I hope will like me. My world narrows and I feel alone. What if I mess up? What if I let people down? "Get it together," I whisper to myself.
What made the difference between the two?
One was a platform and the other a pedestal.
Lean and listen, friend: Even if you feel called to have a platform...run-run-run from the pedestal.
Platforms are for sharing.
Pedestals only have room for one.
Platforms are for reaching out and giving back.
Pedestals demand that we hunker down and guard our territory.
Platforms come with space to grow and find freedom.
Pedestals trap us into a life where we can never make a wrong move.
We don't mean to end up on a pedestal. Yet it's easy to find ourselves there anyway. How can you tell if that's happened? Three ways...
- You've lost the joy of what you're called to do because there's so much pressure to get it right.
- You find yourself sharing what you think others want to hear rather than what's really happening in your heart and life.
- You experience a lot of fear, worry, defensiveness and when someone else succeeds it feels like a threat.
Here's the good news: Pedestals can be expanded. You just need to add some new planks.
That happens first when you recognize where you are and that you don't want to stay there alone. Then you reach out to others and say, "Hey, let's do this together. And by the way–this is what's really going on in my life. How can I support and encourage you?"
Then you do a foundation check and say, "God, I think I may have hopped on this thing with my own effort and agenda. Will you please rebuild whatever you need to so that you are my security and source of strength?"
And, finally, when others try to remake your platform back into a pedestal (and they will–even though they don't mean to) you actively do whatever you need to avoid that happening. You speak your struggles, name your fears, own your mistakes and put your arms around the shoulders of your sisters.
Platforms build us (and others) up.
Pedestals eventually brings us down.
Let's stand tall together where we belong, sisters.
Are you with me?
–Holley Gerth, author of the new book You're Made for a God-sized Dream
:angel:
How To Be A Social Artist Ninja
Feb 07, 2013 12:10 am | Kristen Strong
"A person who lives right has more power in his silence than another has by words." ~Phillips Brooks
My gal pal Elyssa shines and sparkles as a friend-extraordinaire. Not only is she a consummate giver, she breathes in the Spirit and breathes out grace to everyone in her circle of influence. While I admire her for these reasons and a hundred more, I admire her most because she is a true social artist.
More specifically, she is a social artist ninja.
This doesn't mean she's necessarily extroverted or wildly demonstrative. I wouldn't call her a social butterfly, although as a pastor's wife she brilliantly maneuvers various social situations. Rather she is a social artist ninja because she is masterful at focusing on you, and doing so in such a fashion you never saw yourself become the center of attention.
Last summer when Elyssa and her family traveled through town, our family had the pleasure of playing host. During their stay, I resolved to keep my eyes and ears alert to Elyssa's social ninja moves. I made it my goal to purposefully direct conversations towards her because I wanted to practice being as others-centered as she.
I started out not too shabby, keenly aware and focused on my mission. But one evening during dinner – somewhere between the king ranch chicken and homemade apple pie – she asked a subtle, simple question. I don't remember what it was, but her question touched me deeply. Before I knew it, I found my own voice going on and on about me and my big life.
The social artist ninja strikes again.
I laugh about it now and take comfort knowing a hallmark of great conversations is this happening both ways, when both people give and take. But if I'm going to err, I would rather err on the side of listening more and talking less. Elyssa does this beautifully because her life speaks of this truth:
She puts others first.
"Don't push your way to the front; don't sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don't be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand."
~ Philippians 2: 3-4 {the Message}
In this world of i-everything, it's hard to remember I need to forget about me.
I remember I am called to lend a helping hand as the Spirit moves us, not lay down doormat-style to abuse. I want no part of that. But if I do want to cultivate a lifestyle that embraces others and runs from narcism – that puts others first – then I must be a listener who cares and participates in conversations through quiet engagement. This doesn't mean I sit mute, it just means I make my words count.
Humility is the heartbeat of all encouragement, and it takes humility to sit with hands and heart open and lips closed.
It takes a social artist.
Putting arms around others – welcoming them into the fold with a listening ear – unfolds God's pleasure. May it be natural for me to embrace others by listening, to actively resolve to be quietly involved in conversations. And in doing so, may the Savior have room to enter in as the real center of attention.
In conversations, do you find it easy or difficult to listen more than speak? How do you actively resolve to be quietly involved in listening?
Kristen Strong, listening with both ears at Chasing Blue Skies
:angel: :angel:
Tryer's Remorse
Feb 07, 2013 12:10 am | Shauna Letellier
With the arrival of the winter months, there are all sorts of ailments floating around including colds, the flu, and "buyer's remorse." You may (or may not) have avoided all these, but as 2013 looms large and your goals and resolutions taunt, there is a more sinister ailment lurking. I call it Tryer's Remorse.
Perhaps a definition of terms is in order.
Tryer's Remorse: The negative, regretful feeling experienced after having exerted great effort, yet still falling short of one's expectation. Often expressed with disgust or embarrassment by the words, "I will NEVER do that again!"
I had my first bout of Tryer's Remorse at cheerleading camp my senior year of high school.
All week we had been instructed in the finer points of voice projection, straight extended limbs, starched smiles, and various airborne bodily contortions called "jumps"—which purportedly increased crowd volume and school spirit.
On the second-to-last day a most coveted opportunity was extended to the entire camp—the chance to audition for the National Cheerleading Association's entourage for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Excitement! Distinction! Prestige!
It was all so dazzling to this average, small-town cheerleader. I strained to hear the audition details but was repeatedly distracted. My mind was filled with visions of giant Snoopy and Garfield balloons clearing the way for me...I mean for us...through the streets of New York City.
I thought I had a chance—a good chance—to make the squad. So, bolstered by the squealing encouragement of my fellow cheerleaders, I signed up for the audition.
After rehearsing the prescribed cheer 259 times in less than 24 hours, I strode to the front of the gym for my audition.
With my polyester sweater soaked in nervous perspiration and my partially digested lunch threatening to make an appearance, I performed the cheer then skipped to the sidelines with my bobbing ponytail patting me on the back.
My fellow cheerleaders received me with giddy high-fives and a blast of "spirit fingers." And I just got sweatier as I tried to downplay my utter excitement!
The next day the results were posted for the entire camp, and my entire squad, to see.
My name was not on the list.
I tried.
I failed.
And I suffered a long bout of Tryer's Remorse.
I will NEVER try again! How humiliating!
I shouldn't have even tried!
I doubt anyone else thought about it for a nanosecond, but I spent the better part of that summer berating myself for even trying.
Later that year, after Tryer's Remorse had metastasized into a paralyzing fear of failure, I found a quote which I inscribed in purple ink on the fly pages of my pink "leather" Bible:
My greatest fear is not that I will fail, but that I will succeed in something that doesn't really matter.
~Wycliffe Bible Translator, William Townsend
Those words were a welcome salve for the injuries of Tryer's Remorse. They also served as a guidepost to help me determine what was worth trying, even if it meant failing.
Tryer's Remorse still occasionally raises its ugly head. Visions of giant Snoopy and Garfield balloons taunt me as they make way for the parade of my past failures.
And it's true that sometimes I have failed at things that don't matter—like making the NCA cheer squad.
And sometimes I have failed at things that matter. That would be devastating if not for grace.
But sometimes, by God's grace, I have succeeded at what matters.
And when that happens, all glory goes to Him for giving me the courage to try.
Do you suffer from Tryer's Remorse? What is one thing you believe is worth trying in 2013?
By Shauna Letellier, Permission to be Real
:angel: :angel: :angel:
How "Unfriending" Shrinks My World
Feb 08, 2013 12:10 am | Deidra
He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. ~Ephesians 2:14
Toward the end of 2012, things got pretty heated in the world of social media. It wasn't the first time, and it surely will not be the last. I'd be lying if I said some of what I saw didn't ruffle my feathers and make me want to fire off a snarky response or a back-handed missive that highlighted the virtues of the other point of view. Sometimes, the devil's advocate in me wanted to jump into the fray, simply for the benefit of having stirred the pot. By some miracle, however, I held my peace.
Peace, I thought, was the better goal. And so, I "hid" updates from my Facebook timeline and I stayed away from Twitter, hoping to insulate myself from opinions and points-of-view that didn't jibe with mine. It worked. Each day, when I logged on to social media, I was met with an array of updates and links that made me smile, and validated my opinion of the world. Before I knew it, and without considering the implications, I had surrounded myself with people who thought like me, spoke like me, lived like me, and looked like me.
Overnight, my world became extremely small — shrunk down to one small choir and the people who were preaching to it. Or, to use a biblical example, one small ear, or hand, or nose, without the rest of the body to make it matter.
I don't want to live small like that, with everyone around me smiling and saying, "Yes" no matter what. I don't want to create a mono-tone community, where I don't ever get to stretch my thinking. Or my faith. Or my courage. I don't want to go through life always sitting at the table, or going to the church, or living in the neighborhood where everyone's story has been painted with the same-colored brush as mine.
Peace doesn't take the easy way out. Finger-pointing and daring you to cross my line in the sand are easy ways for me to build a wall that was torn down long ago. What if my quest for online (and real-life) peace wasn't at all what Jesus had in mind? What if peace is more about staying at the table — with people whose ideas are different from mine — long enough to find God, right in the middle of it all?
:angel:
Being a Christian in a Secular World
Feb 09, 2013 12:10 am | Dawn Camp
Yesterday I bought a new computer. After working and saving for over a year, the last check was finally deposited. I intended to wait until my husband got home from work to go with me, but I just didn't have the patience. After verifying that the money was in my account, printing a shopping cart page showing what features I wanted, and even calling to make sure the computer was in stock, I headed for the Apple Store.
Most of us have a place where we love to shop—where we love to simply be. Yours may be Pottery Barn or Target; T.J. Maxx or Anthropologie (I confess I've never been); Barnes & Noble or Walmart. For me it's the Apple Store.
The employee practically high-fived me when he heard what I'd come to buy. I handed over my printed shopping cart page and he rang it up right there in the middle of the store. I couldn't stop smiling.
And then he showed me that my debit card wasn't approved.
Thankfully I've discovered a small-town bank in a big city. I called my local branch; the employee who answered the phone recognized my voice and I recognized hers; and at the end of 10-15 agonizingly long minutes the iMac was mine.
Knowing the money was in the bank and I wasn't trying to pull a fast one on the Apple Store was the only thing that kept me standing there, arms pinned to my side to hide the sweat, communicating with both parties until the transaction was complete instead of ducking my head in embarrassment and walking away.
Sometimes this is what it feels like to be a Christian in a secular world.
You know you're on the right side—ultimate truth is in Christ—which gives you faith in your position, but the world sure can make you squirm and sweat.
My husband and I are movie buffs, whether at the theater or sitting in our living room. Twice in the last month we've seen Christians portrayed on the screen in a way that made us cringe, once in a movie with at least one current Oscar nomination, once in the middle of the fourth season of a five season TV show we stream obsessively at home from Netflix.
As Christians we are followers of Christ and our lives should speak love and mercy, joy and laughter, not the rigid-jawed, thin-lipped self-righteousness of the Pharisees that I saw portrayed. Too often that's the stereotype that you and I face in this world. It's our job to dispel it—to stand firm when other employees steal from the company; other students cheat; or other women badmouth their husbands—because our principles have a foundation.
Even when the situation makes you sweat.
We serve a God who isn't hindered by technical glitches and whose account is never empty, his grace and mercy ever-abundant.
"If God be for us, who can be against us?" ~ Romans 8:31
Was there a time in your life when your faith in God enabled you to stand firm in a hard place?
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
Is Love Supposed to be Fair?
Feb 11, 2013 12:20 am | Angela Nazworth
"All's fair in love and war" ... or so goes the old saying that traces back to John Lyly's Euphues written in 1578. For centuries, the adage has granted individuals license to cheat on the battlefields of ground and heart.
Ironically, any solider who has fought for his or her country will tell you that there is nothing fair about war. No matter the reasons for entering a fight, terror and ugliness abound savagely. But I'll leave the subject of war for other writers to discuss. Love now weighs heavily on my mind.
Contrary to Lyly's famous line, the only commonality I know that exists between love and war is that neither is fair. Yet, unlike war, it is the unfairness component of love that can add unfathomable beauty.
Love, in its purest, sacrificial form has never been fair. I don't think it was designed to be fair. As God sculpted Adam from the fresh earth, He knew that His most glorious creation would break His heart. Yet still, God breathed man to life. It was not fair, but the beauty surrounding such love cannot be denied.
When the world knew only darkness and despair, God sent hope in the form of His son, Jesus Christ. The sinless man and true embodiment of love was scorned, spat upon, rejected, beaten, and killed by a method that glorified cruelty as sport. The image of my sweet Savior nailed to a brutal cross swells a lump in my throat. It was the greatest atrocity committed by mankind, one in which I bear some of the blame.
It. Was. Not. Fair.
But the beauty ... the stunning, breath-stealing beauty pouring from such sacrifice cannot be denied.
Fourteen years ago this week, my life changed when my boyfriend of only four months sent me on an elaborate treasure hunt that ended with him on bended knee. The night I agreed to be his wife, as well as during the wedding-planning months that followed, delusions of fairness occupied an enormous space of my mental real estate. And as we exchanged vows, slivers of cake and many kisses I envisioned all the bliss the next fifty years could possibly hold. Oh, I knew that our life together wouldn't be perfect, but I was confident that it would at least be fair.
Less than two weeks after my wedding day, I learned that my previous notions were laughable. Fifty-fifty? Equal give-and-take? Those are just good-intentioned, but flawed concepts. Our marriage experienced illnesses that rattled our faith, emotional pain that rammed us to our knees and losses that ransacked our haven. Not only did life hit us with some unjust blows, we also dealt each other some unscrupulous punches. That's what human beings sometimes do when life gets gritty. We mess up. We make mistakes. We get angry with each other. We cause unwarranted pain.
My marriage is not and has never been fair, but it is worth fighting for and it does hold beauty that cannot be denied.
Arms open to embrace one in need of forgiveness ... beautiful.
Fingers entwined as a new life swallows her first gulps of air ... beautiful.
Tears cried for the one who aches ... beautiful.
Hands steadying the one whose body is ravaged by pain ... beautiful.
Laughter echoing throughout corridors ... beautiful.
Feet that stumble as they walk a rugged path, but also glide as they dance ... beautiful.
Lips that touch softly as evidence to both passion and commitment ... beautiful.
Love. Unbridled, agape love, a love that is taught by its Creator, is not fair. But its glorious beauty cannot be denied.
"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing." I Corinthians 13: 1-3 (NIV)
:angel:
Do you have a case of the Mondays?
Feb 13, 2013 12:10 am | Mary Carver
In a couple months I'll have been blogging for five years. That means I've blogged about resolutions at least five times. I've gone through phases – writing about my goals, writing about my failures, declaring an end to the practice of making resolutions in the first place and, most recently, sharing a few resolutions (like eating more chocolate) that I believe we can all manage to keep this year.
But as I've been reflecting on the nature of resolutions and the fact that most of us don't keep ours (and yet continue to make them every year in a baffling display of optimism), something occurred to me. I realized that the majority of changes I've made in my life have nothing to do with resolutions or a date on the calendar.
See, I set goals for myself all. the. time. Eat more vegetables. Exercise more. Organize my pantry. Plan meals before going to the grocery store. Get up early. Floss my teeth. Watch less TV (as if!). And more often than not, I decide to start pursuing these goals next week, next month, next year.
So often when I set goals for myself, make resolutions to change or improve, it's all about the next. I get wrapped up in the planning and the dreaming and the I'm-gonna-do-it-this-time-no-really-I-am, and I forget to actually start.
I say, "I'll start on Monday," but somehow, Monday never comes.
Have you ever done that?
Have you ever put off your dreams, your goals, your resolutions for the next, for Monday?
Have you ever had a case of the Mondays?
The interesting thing about this is that I have, certainly, made changes to my life and met goals I set for myself. Many times I've resolved to change something – and I have!
In the last couple of years, I've stopped speeding (for the most part), started taking vitamins every day (or most every day), remembered to take my canvas bags to the grocery store (usually), made a point to invite friends over for dinner once a month, balanced my checkbook twice a month, read a lot more of the Bible than I did the year before and finished a few of the non-fiction books that have been collecting dust on the shelf for months.
You wanna guess how many of those things happened on a Monday or January 1? {None.}
Have you broken or met your New Year's resolutions for this year?
Have you been waiting for next week, next month or next year?
Or are you moving forward, standing back up when you fall, reaching for those goals?
Have you set goals and made plans, but forgotten to start doing?
What's stopping you from starting now instead of next Monday?
Do you keep your New Year's or Monday resolutions?
Or do you meet more goals that you set through the year or the week?
By Mary Carver, Giving Up on Perfect
:angel:
How It Feels to Be Held By God
Feb 14, 2013 12:10 am | Kristen Welch
We pulled up in our driveway, exhausted. Our unplanned trip to my sister-in-law's bedside and subsequent funeral, left our little family emotionally empty. Raw.
Familiar cars parked in front of our house, vehicles of faithful Mercy House volunteers. They quietly filled in the gaps our journey left, doing what needed to be done in the storage building next to our home.
As I dropped bags of dirty laundry in the laundry room, I saw bags of groceries on the countertop. Ten minutes home and there was dinner at the front door. The mailbox held condolence cards, the phone, messages.
Neighbors, friends and family, community holding us.
The first Sunday back at church we heard whispers of condolence and knowing looks. Compassion.
I believe this- dinner-serving, grocery-giving, burden-bearing- this is what Jesus had in mind when he said love one another.
We wonder how to change the world, how to leave a mark, move the hand of God?
We change the world when we simply meet the needs of another. When we love others more than ourselves, not expecting anything in return.
Because no matter the troubled road we journey (and we all walk it at some point) life goes on. Laundry piles up and bellies need to be fed. When we rake the yard of one who can't, we see God. It's love.
"It's best to start small. Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true disciple." Matt. 10:42
We've been doing a lot of holding in our house. I hold my husband as he grieves his dear sister who died far to young. He holds our children as they try to grasp death and eternity. Our children hold the hand of God with their simple faith.
Our immediate and extended family is held by community.
And it feels just like the arms of God.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel: :angel:
May Or May Not Get Married So Now What?
Feb 14, 2013 12:10 am | Katy Boatman
When I was six, I remember standing in my grandmother's den modeling the shimmering white veil my aunt had worn in her wedding. I held her flowers and walked down my pretend aisle knowing that no matter what, my version of Prince Charming was standing there waiting for me. At six, I'm sure my Prince Charming had dark hair, unnaturally white teeth, tan skin, and looked exactly like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid.
My six-year-old imagination could have told you what my dress looked like, who was attending my wedding, and how tall my delicious cake would be. I could show you where the flower girl would drop her flowers (because I was super experienced at that), and I could tell you that although you may want your bridesmaids to carry your train, I would prefer my older brothers do it. They need to be put to work too, right?
But at six years old, I couldn't tell you much about what a wedding really meant. I couldn't tell you what the words that the bride and groom kept repeating meant, or why they got pretty rings.
The older I got I realized that a wedding was way more than a party with pretty dresses and really good cake. I realized a wedding meant marriage, a future, and a husband (and some really good cake too). It was a ceremony, a celebration, and a chance to share with friends and family my commitment to love, honor, and cherish my new Prince Charming (by this age, he most definitely resembled Justin Timberlake).
As a teenager, I could tell you the timeline of how my future would look. I would graduate high school, go to college, graduate college, and get married. It was a checklist of goals. And it was the only thing I knew.
I knew there were books that talked about dating, and I knew there were books that talked about marriage. There were books that would help me get into college, and books I would fall asleep reading while pretending to study during college. But in my checklist of goals (high school, college, marriage), I never considered the gap.
What if there was a gap between college and marriage? What if that gap was a really long time? What if I actually had to use my degree and get a job? Where was there a book about the gap? Or where was the book called, You May or May Not Get Married So Now What?
Today, I'm 26 and single. I graduated from college three and half years ago, and I have a job in publishing that keeps me busy and challenges me daily. I'm nowhere close to getting married, and I have still never read a book on filling in the gaps. And you know what? I'm completely happy.
When I was six, I didn't walk around with a pretend laptop and pretend cell phone and act like I was on my way to a super important meeting. I walked around in heels and held fake flowers.
It's a funny thing when we try and live out our idea of a plan. We quickly discover that living out God's plan is more of a dream come true than any Disney movie could have premiered. It's just a dream we never imagined. And at 26, instead of cooking dinner for your husband as he gets home from work, you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street writing an article called, "You May or May Not Get Married So Now What?"
And because that's His plan, it's so incredibly good.
By Katy Boatman, Single, Party of One
:angel: :angel:
The Unraveling Of A Marriage
Feb 15, 2013 12:10 am | Lysa
I had a favorite sweater I loved wearing. It wasn't too bulky but was still warm and cozy. The only problem was the threads were loosely woven together. It would snag on things, so I had to be ever so careful when I wore it.
I was always mindful of the delicate nature of this sweater so I could protect it, make it last, and enjoy wearing it time and again.
Until one day I was in a hurry. I grabbed some things I needed for a meeting and rushed to my car. I tossed all my stuff over to the passenger seat, including a spiral notebook. A spiral notebook whose metal binding wire had gotten caught on my sleeve. As I pulled my arm toward the steering wheel, the notebook came with it and pulled a huge snag in my sweater.
I unhooked myself and assessed the damage. Based on what I saw, I should have taken the sweater off, put something else on, and later taken the time to repair the snag the correct way.
But in the rush of all I had going on, I made the tragic decision to do what seemed easiest in the moment. I snipped the lose threads and hoped for the best. That tragic decision started an unraveling process that ended the life of that beautiful sweater.
Recently, my husband and I got into an argument. In front of the kids. Over something so stupid. Right before we were about to head out the door to go on a date.
In the heat of the argument he announced the date was off. He no longer wanted to go. And honestly, I no longer wanted to go either.
I wanted to go sit in a coffee shop by myself and make a mental list of all the reasons I was right. All the reasons he was wrong. And justify my perspective. But it's at this exact moment of resistance that an unraveling can begin.
Doing what seems easy in the moment often isn't what's best for the long term.
I pushed for us to still go on our date. It wasn't fun. It wasn't easy. There were tears. There were awkward stretches of silence. But we pushed through the resistance we both felt, and eventually talked.
Talking through the snags. The pulls. The things that threaten to unravel us.
There is a delicate nature to marriage. It's so easy to forget that. It's so easy to take it all for granted and stop being careful. Stop being mindful. Stop being protective.
The unraveling can happen so quickly.
What's something you can do today to invest wisely in your marriage? To be mindful of your mate? To protect your relationship?
For me? I had to apologize. The right way. By admitting I was wrong and asking for forgiveness. Repairing the snags the right way... tying a knot and tucking it back into the weave of our relationship fabric.
Isn't it funny that when we get married it's called "tying the knot"? For us, this wasn't just an act at the altar. It's something we have to do over and over again.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Are you looking to prove that you're right or to improve your relationships? Lysa addresses how to have godly reactions in the midst of conflict in her book Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy!
:angel: :angel:
How Gentleness Makes Our Children Great
Feb 16, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Mae
He was 2 1/2 and I spanked him. I spanked him over and over and over again, because I thought I was doing the right thing, the godly thing. I needed him to obey, there was no other option.
I was tired and overwhelmed, and I just wanted compliance. I wanted him to honor me by obeying me; I wanted be biblical in the training of my child. I wanted to raise an obedient child so that one day he would be great.
But my son, with the bright blue eyes, he was sad. Very, very sad.
He thought he was bad; not the bad in the understanding that we are all born with a sinful bent, but the bad as in an "I'm not lovable" bad. And he wasn't just sad, he was angry. He was angry because he didn't think he could change. He was angry that he couldn't help his immaturity. He was angry that we just kept trying to spank the immaturity out of him.
And when he looked at me with wet eyes and said, "God doesn't love me" I broke.
Spanking, first-time obedience, over and over and over and over, and honor, and love, and sadness and anger, and we both just broke.
This way of love was not working.
My husband and I learned a new way, slowly and fumbling, we learned how to love our son and nurture his soul in compassionate ways. We began listening to him more, rubbing his arms, looking in his eyes, relating with him (we sin too), and finding ways to guide his heart towards good...towards the kindess and love of God.
I learned the art of stepping down from my rank as the authority and putting myself in his shoes. Remembering the mind of a child, the immaturity, the limited understanding, the just trying to figure out my world curiosity. And when I do this, when I remember and allow myself to see through his eyes, I am following in the way of Jesus.
Jesus, who humbled himself by stepping down from his rank to live as us, among us. He wore flesh and saw through human eyes, and He had compassion on the people. He had compassion on me.
And He has been ever so gentle with me, as I'm just figuring out my world; as I'm figuring out how to fit perfect into fallen. He is in me, perfection, and His Spirit is intertwined with mine, and I'm just working it all out, this life with Him. He is maturing me slowly, gently, with His kindness and compassion.
His gentleness is making me great.
And it is the gentleness that I am learning to show my son, to raise my babies, that I believe will make them great.
"...your gentleness makes me great." Psalm 18:35
By Sarah Mae, author of Desperate – Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breath
Need help navigating the waters of discipline? I highly recommend Heartfelt Discipline: Following God's Path of Life to the Heart of Your Child
:angel:
Wonderfully YOU!
Feb 19, 2013 12:10 am | Robin Dance
After 25 years, he still doesn't completely understand me.
It was just the two of us alone in the car that day, when I casually mentioned entering the HGTV Dream Home giveaway.
"Why do you enter giveaways?" he asks, incredulous that anyone bothers to enter when hundreds of thousands (millions?) will do the same. It's the only contest I enter year in and out, and this year I'm especially hopeful: it's a dream home near our favorite vacation destination.
I smiled and explained, "Well, s o m e o n e will win and I don't stand a chance of being that someone unless I enter." Perfectly logical.
It's silly, I know, especially when the odds are stacked outrageously high against me. But I really, truly, no-matter-how-ridiculous-it-sounds believe I could win.
Sitting in the car that day, our seemingly innocuous conversation led me to realize something important:
One of the things I like most about myself is boundless optimisim.
So I said it out loud.
"You know, I LIKE that about myself, that I think I could win...." and my voice trails as I recall things I have won in the past. A computer. A printer. A Reddi Wip gift pack. A trip to SXSW. Big things and small things, but only because I tried.
But winning giveaways isn't my point at all.
It occurred to me that it's important to see things about myself – unique giftings or quirks or aspects of my personality – to acknowledge and celebrate how God made me wonderful.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
~ Psalm 139:14 NIV
God made you wonderful.
Unless you are a very new Christ follower, this is likely a familiar verse, especially if you have children. But why is it easier for me to see its truth in light of my babies, yet a challenge to believe about me?
In the original Hebrew text, the word "fearfully" means with great reverence, respect; "wonderfully" means marvelous, unique, set apart.
Right after the psalmist praises God for how he was made, he declares God's works wonderful and emphasizes his trust and belief. He recognizes who he is in light of his Creator.
Have you ever considered you're wonderful because you're a precious work of God, created with a unique bent that he designed especially for you?
Have you given yourself permission to delight in the qualities that set you apart from every other creature on the planet??
Right now I'm asking you to think about some things you like about yourself and name them out loud; if you're willing, share them in comments. Praise God for the marvelous ways you're uniquely YOU.
This is important lovies. It is far too easy to become entangled in the comparison game, to feel less than others because they have strengths you lack or they're succeeding in areas where you're stalling.
You're special.
You're one of a kind.
And I think it's beautiful to notice the details of God's craftmanship in you...and, then to graciously express your gratitude back to Him.
Lovies, won't you share even one of your quirks or propensities or talents that others might not quite get but you appreciate? I'd like to know and celebrate with you!
With joy and grace from Robin, who cherishes her quirky belief that sometimes God gives baby rainbows to those who need 'em. ❤
:angel:
Kingdom Come: On the Mind, the Wait, and the Delight
Feb 20, 2013 12:20 am | Amber Haines
I have a tendency toward poetics, but I am certainly no scholar. If I ever did well in school, I had to work for it, maybe twice as hard as others had to work, but once I developed a love of learning, it certainly became easier for me to justify the work. I was a C and D student in high school who turned out a 4.89 GPA in college.
I was in my Sophomore year when I first believed Christ and His words. I read then that I had been given "the mind of Christ," and you know what? I believed it, because He whispered to me the way to go. The Holy Spirit gave me understanding, and I thrived on learning more and more and more of the story into which God had actively engaged me. When I first believed, I spent every single day like I had been raised from the dead.
Oh but then I grew up, became tidy, and I put my passion down a little. My learning became a way to know more and better than others. My walk became tired, and I began feeling unsatisfied in my pursuits. This is when I fell hard, to the rock bottom (the pit), when I needed to be resurrected. As it turns out, we experience resurrection again and again.
He has shown me repeatedly that I must be empty to be filled, that blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. I can't even count how many times I've been brought low in my pride, where in the low-down I get to kiss the feet of Jesus. Maybe it's wisdom, which is Spirit, that I would ever crave the low-down before the height, now to head straight to His feet and cry my tears there until my hair is messy wet.
Lately I've been reading it again, the story like it's real and mine and history and science and future. The Bible is reminding me what life really is and is filling my mind with ancient things, pearls, and the awes of mystery. Jesus Christ lives, and I am walking with Him.What an outrageously mystical thing to say?!
But here's the deal, in my reading and training my mind, I am being transformed, but life has not become a cake walk. In fact, many things have become uglier. The things that used to satisfy me, they're leaving me void.
This past year, God has asked me to wait on Him for several things. Right now, I am waiting for Him, and He's not answered yet.
What I'm learning is that you cannot rightly wait for someone in whom you don't delight. I turn my face away, daily even; I'll ponder a different golden calf, wonder if satisfaction is there, the music, the television, the health of my children, the goodness of sex, or the safety of wealth. None of it works.
"Delight yourself in the LORD, and He will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4). This is a promise. This is the thing HE will indeed give, and it's a mystery that He would give it, Himself.
He is my delight, and I see with my eyes how the world falls apart, our kingdoms and health, but I am indeed ever satisfied here in Him.
His Kingdom Come. His will be done.
***
May I turn your heart to a sister, to Ann Voskamp with her family in Haiti? I know many of us feel like fan-girls toward her, but the truth is that we are sisters, and she is humble, and we see Christ in her, and He draws us.
She's there with Mission of Hope: Haiti and wrote a post about being there, about being empty and crying out to God, and I think it's important to read. One of her children apparently sprained an ankle while there, and I know she's processing the hard and the beauty and will share it with us.
I wonder if in the comment section here today, if we could bless her and her family? I don't care if only three of you do it. Would you speak truth and what you might pray for a sister going with her entire family (even with her mama carrying a sewing machine), that she would know the things of God in the midst of suffering – and that Mission of Hope would receive what is needed?
I know His Kingdom Comes through such things.
—
post by Amber C Haines of theRunaMuck
:angel:
The 1 Thing You Really Have to Know About Your Family
Feb 21, 2013 12:20 am | Ann Voskamp
Iam not going to lie.
When your kin comes knocking on your own back door — come to ask how that trip to Haiti went — how can you look them in the eye and lie?
How can you lie still when babies are drowning in a sea of poverty?
How can you not scream?
I tell Mama that I think I'm angry.
Mama sits down.
And I pace, this hunting for words for the indescribable. And it comes out haltingly, that I think if I open my mouth, it will come right out, this roar. This inhumane, howling moan that only the Spirit can make any sense of...
Angry? She says.
And there's no holding this tattered roar back.
I'm angry at sin that smothers children and selfishness that steals human dignity and apathy that infects the hearts of the comfortable. And I pound my own chest.
I'm angry at me.
Angry at how much I want comfortable more than I want Christ.
Angry at how much I want to forget that grimy boy leaned over a garbage heap, wiping his fingers along the inside of food tray, looking for anything left. I'm wildly angry that I want to forget the struggle of the poor so I can pin the next pretty idea on Pinterest.
I'm angry that I've seen and I'm ashamed that I am angry and I'm angry that I've seen and now I am responsible. More than respons-able – we're response-bound. Once we have seen the poor, we are responsible — we will make a response. As long as your heart is beating, there's no such thing as unresponsive. We all look into the face of the poor and it's either Yes, I will help. Or no, I won't.
There's no getting off the hook.
Faith cannot have a non-response.
We're either responding with indifference or with intercession, either with apathy or aid.
You can't look into the face of the poor and just plead the fifth amendment. Your life is always your answer.
I feel sick that I feel so angry.
Sick that I want to Pin with abandon, that I don't want to be a witness, that I want someone else be an uncomfortable voice for the poor. Sick that six weeks from now I can grow cold and forget. I have.
Why do Christians make their lives tell all these half-truths?
On Tuesday, when I wake up on the farm, my throat is sore. I feel like I've lost my voice. I feel like my heart is sore.
What do you say in the face of disparity that defies words?
It's 708 miles from Port Au Prince, Haiti to Miami, Florida – less distance than the length of the state of Texas.
From a city with no sewer system — where every night workers scoop out latrines with buckets and dump the sewage of its 3 million into open, garbage choked ditches cutting through the city – to not only what Forbes named the cleanest city, but the richest city in the United States of America.
The flight isn't an hour and a half. In ninety minutes, taxing down the runway, we leave the tarped and twigged shacks of people earning less than $750 a year — to suburban McMansions where the average family earns $52,000.
How long can you walk around feeling like you have whiplash? Is heart whiplash what you need to wake your heart up?
Why would we rather turn a blind eye to the needy than turn to the needy and be like Christ? Do we like our own wants and comfort more than we want to be like Christ?
When I walked behind Wesley, I couldn't stop watching the way his arms move.
How they look like these starved, breakable sticks, these bones with brown skin stretched over tight.
It's his head I wanted into, that shaved close head and everything behind those huge sunken eyes. What's Wesley thinking?
What does it feel like to walk ahead of 5 milk white foreigners, walk them through heaps of burnt out scrapped metal, past an open latrine, to your dark windowless house that wouldn't be 100 square feet?
When Wesley's Grandfather's brings the cow into the yard, his shorts are tied up with string. If the body of Christ is tied together with His blood, how does His family live estranged – like the generous giving of grace is strange?
Wesley shows us his Bible. He's standing in the doorway of the shack he lives in with his mother, his Grandfather.
Wesley's mother, she says that Wesley's father lives that way – the mother points — lives in other places with his other wives. She points back into the darkened door, the hard floor. Sometimes he comes here to spend a night. She says it all quiet, says it like there's not much of her left, like she's the one spent. It doesn't look like she has a handful of teeth.
I gently lay a hand on Wesley's shoulder, on my brother's shoulder, ask if he'd like to share with us his favorite Bible verse? Wesley stares at a page. Wesley can't read. He is 12 and he can't read. Who has words for this?
He does have a Compassion sponsor. He hands me their letter.
Attached is a picture of a couple smiling happy in Central Park. Wesley's standing barefoot and wordless in front of a windowless shack with a photo of folks hugging happy in Central Park and how can we help where we are born in this world? This soundless howl pounds in my ears.
Where is the Spirit who interprets all these impossible groans? What is the solution to poverty in this world? What in the world do we all do?
The day we go to the ocean to meet Jonelson, one of the children we sponsor in Haiti through Compassion, he hugs Caleb. He lives on a tropical island, but Jonelson's never been to the ocean before. His mother's trying to feed eight children in a one room house with no running water, no electricity and not much more than $30 a month for them all to figure out how to live, how to scrape something out of the earth.
Jonelson's mother strips him down to his thin white underwear and he stands there at the water's edge not knowing what to do. Drilling his one big toe nervous into the sand.
Caleb digs in his bag for that swimsuit he brought for Jonelson. His mother pulls them up over Jonelson's skivvies.
And when Caleb kneels down in front of Jonelson, to try to beckon him out into the water, the boy climbs up on Caleb's back.
Caleb wades deeper into all that tropical aqua and Jonelson holds on. I stand beside Jonelson's mother and we're two mothers watching our two sons carrying each other, holding on to each other, arms and feet entwined and we're family and aren't we all entangled by something?
Are we entangled in Christ and loving His family or are we entangled in culture and its pressures to have all of its stuff?
When we say goodbye to Joneslon, tears stream down his mother's face. She cups my face in her hands and kisses me on the cheek like a sister.
She puts a grass woven hat on my head and all I can think of is Job saying "justice was my robe and turban" (Job 29:14). In the family of Christ, we wear justice for the poor. In the Body of Christ, our lives should be clothed in caring like our bodies are covered in clothing.
Caleb had packed it – this Canadian t-shirt. He'd given one to little Jonelson. And he'd said it when we'd crawled through the swarming streets of Port Au Prince. He'd looked out on the open latrines and the shacks and the wandering children and he had said it way too loud.
Said it too loud just after the bus engine finally gasped quiet in the heat.
"Sure am glad I wasn't born in a place like this – glad I was born in the land of the strong and free."
And I hissed shhhhhh.
But for days that's what kept echoing – no, shouting — in my head: "It's by and large where you are born." What would your life look like if you were born onto the heaving streets of Port Au Prince instead of all that clean air somewhere west of Central Park?
If you were born onto dirt and mud in the tarped cities of Haiti instead of the windows and water and wealth of the Western world?
You can turn a blind eye to the poor all you want but it could have turned out that you were the poor.
And when our Haitian Compassion translator, Johnny, stands in The Alpha Hotel with its rats running down the hallways, he tells us how, after getting his BA in Florida, he'd got his MDiv in North Carolina.
How he'd come back to Haiti to work for Compassion, and took in 5 starving Haitian orphans to raise with his own 3 and saved to send all 8 of them to university.
How he'd walked out of the Hotel Montana not 30 seconds before it collapsed in the earthquake and how after the quake, how he'd climbed from one tree to the next, all down the mountain from the Montana, all the roads blocked with rubble and death, wild to find his kids and wife somewhere in Port Au Prince that is home.
And that's when I couldn't stop it – when it came out of me, a whisper, but still too loud.
Like an angry fool, I had asked him, laid my hand on his arm and quietly begged him, "Johnny, I know you were born here – but someday — couldn't you take your family and move to a land like the States?"
Just step over the rubble and beggars and latrines and garbage and gangs and just get your family out of this place where you were born and come find the land of the free? It's ugly, but it's what I thought for our friend: You only get one life here and who really wants to spend it in the slums?
And he looked me in the eyes and he waited, searching mine.
Searching for a way to get the truth right into me, me born into the lap of ease of the West and homesick for the farm and wanting everyone to have the relative ease of the middle class.
"But I am Moses." Johnny speaks it deep, his eyes never leaving mine, his fatherly hand gently squeezing mine, soothing out my roaring wail.
"I am Moses. I do not leave my kindred."
And the whole planet and all my heart reverberates.
I am Moses. I do not leave my kindred.
You don't leave your kin to save your own skin.
You don't stay in the palace if you want anybody to find deliverance – especially yourself.
You don't forget who your brother is — when you know Who your Father is.
I turn away, chin quaking hard. I've got a passport in my bag and a ticket to ease and he only gets one life here and he's living in the desperate need of this one for the definite reward of the next one – and how in the world again am I living mine?
If the grace of my life is mostly where I am born, and I am born again into the family of Christ, than how can my life birth anything other than a grace that gives?
I read it just before my plane lifts from Haitian soil, read it standing in a line in the chaotic Port Au Prince airport, what Tim Keller wrote:
"[Anything you have...] It is due to the century and place in which you were born, to your talents and capacities and health, none of which you earned.
In short, all your resources are in the end — the gift of God."
Forget Paris. It's what I found right here in Haiti: It's all in the end a gift and a gift never stop being a gift, it's always meant to be given, and it's all by His grace alone and I bend my stiff neck in Port Au Prince and I'm wrecked and everything gives way.
Why do good things happen to people who happen to take all that good for granted?
Why can I read and Wesley can't, and why do I have the privilege of not worrying where the next meal is coming from and Jonelson's mother doesn't?
And why do I fly home to running water in Canada and Johnny stays here pumping a country for hope and why do the three million of Port Au Prince carry buckets of sewage and why do we have a house of 8 with not one toilet but an obscene four?
I am so angry and so much at me.
When you are born again into the Kingdom of God, how can you ever again forget your kin? Part of the solution to poverty is doing whatever it takes to get your heart to stay with the poor.
There may be miles between the rich and the poor, but how can there be distance in the family of God.
And my mama, my kin —
she reaches over and the world seems small and she squeezes my hand close.::
::
And hath made of one blood all nations of men ...
Acts 17:26
For deeper reflection visit Ann's blog to read about her trip to Haiti THIS WEEK with her husband, six children and mother: Of Women & Sisters and Family and How You Really Speak Lent
{If you'd like to stay with your kindred, consider sponsoring a child through Compassion USA or Compassion in Canada?}
:angel: :angel:
When Flesh Fights Fierce & We Just Want Joy
Feb 21, 2013 12:10 am | Meggan Murkli
Wind gapes through my brunette locks and catches that droplet dripping sorrow and grief. Wet teardrop whisked away to that heavenly storehouse where the God-Man bottles it in His perfect love and healing grace. Clouds are hovering in blue sky and the air is turning heavy with grey. Piercing through, a single ray of fierce light. It fights the black and the cold for a few moments. And I fight the suffering and sin all the same. From those mysterious bowels of cloud and sky, the droplets descend, crashing with a roar upon Mother Earth. Ray of sun shattered in a piercing instant. Feet wade in the fresh puddle. Locks drip wet and eyes close beneath the seeming misery. Tear and raindrop mix into one thundering roar. And it all seems to be too much.
I'm a forgetful creature. A woman of self-absorption, gripped with sin, whose brokenness often blurs that holy perspective. But the skies open and the rain falls and the tears of Grace – that God of abundant grace – descend. And I catch my tears, but only as I catch His. I sorrow, but only as He sorrows. I weep, but only as He has already wept.
His grace doesn't demand our wounds ignored or forgotten. Grace frees us from the veil of shame because Grace already bore the wound, and Grace still wields the scar.
We weep and we mourn and we suffer – Adam's fall ever infectious over these lives we live – and we ache for all of this world's suffering and all of our own immediate hurt to be healed.
Sky sulks. Grey hovers over yellow harvest fields and over my tear-stained soul. I set the kettle on stove and wait for tea leaves to steep into full, majestic flavor. Eyes and heart fastened on the falling happening outside. His tears. My tears. And maybe yours too?
Tears because pain is real and the hurt runs deep.
I pour hot tea into that crackled stoneware. Cinnamon and hibiscus and orange peel dancing wildly together. I feel lifeless. And maybe it's because I'm thankless? After all, that Word says, Enter into my joy through gates of thanksgiving.
Oh, dear Ann unveiled that secret and I'm remembering it now:
Deep chara joy is found only at the table of the euCHARisteo – the table of thanksgiving...As long as thanks is possible, then joy is always possible. Joy is always possible. Whenever, meaning – now; wherever, meaning – here...Here, in the messy, piercing ache of now, joy might be – unbelievably – possible!
The miracle of healing – that miracle we ache after 'neath heavy skies and world's disappointments and failures run deep and utterly brutal scars – it comes when we offer thanks.
It comes when we, with sorrow gripping fierce and darkness laying low, come unto the Healer, with gratitude on our wet, tear-saturated lips & whisper it true.
And it's hard. It's a hard offering up, dear one. But, don't we desperately long for the miracle? Don't we crave after beauty and life abundant? Didn't Augustine say that we are all on this maddening search for eternal joy?
Then this is the secret.
My tea cup is empty. I reach for that white glazen pot and pour until it fills. And I reach for that Word and receive the filling.
John, in His Gospel, says that on the night Jesus was betrayed, He took the cup – the cup of suffering and death and of costly crucifixion – and he gave thanks.
And I take the cup,
of broken engagement,
and loss of love,
and friendship betrayed,
and reputation scarred,
and possessions forfeited,
and plans utterly pierced through,
and almost father-in-law diagnosed with cancer,
and this wounded walk of life,
and I give thanks.
Thanks for the grace and the God of grace Who covers all and sustains all. For the heart of that God-Man and the love of that Beloved, Who is for me and never against me. For the Giver of every good and perfect gift, and that these sufferings are not separate from His goodness. For the Healer, who comforts, but who also cries. For the One in Whom joy is always possible.
This, with love from Meg, at Grace Words.
**Because all is just wild grace, there's a place saved just for you, so stop by...maybe?**
:angel: :angel:
Rushing The Seasons
Feb 22, 2013 12:20 am | Annie Downs
All I can do right now is wish for summer.
The winter in Nashville has been terribly mild and we have barely had a serious cold snap. Usually, I'm the one who loves a good wintery season, all bundled up and such, but this year, winter can't end fast enough.
And I don't even like spring.
I just want summer. I want long days and warm nights outside. I want to wear shorts in the afternoon and feel the sunshine come in through my window at too-early o'clock. I want fresh fruits and farmers markets and rolled down windows. I want a solid thunderstorm. I want last minute tubing trips and long awaited beach vacations.
But the truth is, I know as soon as summer gets here, I'll beg for fall. For the changing leaves and the cooler temperatures and the tall boots and skinny jeans. I will want all the things that the current season doesn't offer.
One day this summer, I will be sweaty and annoyed and everything will feel sticky and I'll think back to today. I will remember that it was 30 degrees and I jogged from house to car, when my fingers were frozen while opening my back door to rush into the warmth of the house, and I'll feel like I wasted winter, wishing for summer. And I'll will wish away summer instead of living it like I am anticipating.
It seems that no matter the time of year, the relationship status, or the prayers unanswered, I always find myself wishing for the next season instead of appreciating the one I am in.
So while my mind longs for summer, I'm teaching my heart to live the winter. And maybe even love it.
:angel:
May your weekend be filled with happiness, not the kind that comes from winning on earth but the kind that comes from the secret things of heaven.
May you let go of the comparisons that exhaust you. Remember it takes two to make a race.
If you're weary of the competition, simply refuse to run.
Choose instead to linger in the morning when the sun begins her rise.
Take a walk around the block just to see what you can find.
Savor the warm mug, the sharp air, the hope of things to come.
Be thankful for the moments you hold in your hands and the people who sit by your side.
But above all else, let the truth of your own belovedness gather in the sacred curves of your soul.
Listen long to the Spirit-whispers of acceptance and know you are made wonderfully well.
Enjoy your weekend, friends.
Are you weary from the race of this week? What is one way you might choose to slow?
post by Emily Freeman, Chatting at the Sky
:angel:
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Matthew 11:28-30
:angel:
On the Days You Can Only Trace The Rainbow
Feb 25, 2013 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Oh, love that will not let me go | I rest me weary soul in Thee |I give You back this life I owe | And in Your ocean depths its flow | May richer fuller be | ~ George Matheson
I stared into the wall at nights in my bed as a little girl.
It was actually the moonlight slipping into the room, through the edge of the window curtains.
But, I looked at how white the light pierced into the paint.
Yet, it wasn't so bright. Because my room was still swathed in the quiet serenity of the dark.
The patch of light would float softly along my wall, like the arms of a willow tree's leaves reflecting onto the water, yawning ever so slightly in the gentle breeze.
It felt good to me somehow to feel lost in that gaze.
Because I wanted all my troubles to go away.
Because for a moment, I would forget everything — the things that had been said and the me-who-I-became when they were spoken. Even the dreams that I wanted to dream.
And as I nestled my cheek into the pillow, wrapping my arms and legs into the folding crevices of the covers, I'd scoot my way close to the wall, where my bed found its home parked in one corner of the room.
I would feel peaceful coolness snuggled there.
It was there many nights I would cry.
And it was also there that I would confide in Jesus.
I would pray.
A Deeper Part
I grew up of course. And I don't stare into the walls anymore.
But, I'm learning there is a deeper part of me that still wants to disappear — to find that place of numbness, where I separate myself from the truth of the things that bother me, from the words or concerns that don't sit right in my heart.
I can distract myself in my grown-up, culturally acceptable ways.
I tell myself it doesn't matter. That I should know better.
I stay occupied. Busy.
Or I retreat into my safe corner.
And just stay quiet.
But, I know deep inside, I'm not really free to live in the moment.
I'm really alone, ignoring my heart — just like that little girl, who had to learn to keep holding onto herself because that was simply what she knew best to do.
It's a very weary feeling.
I wouldn't have admitted so before, but I am beginning to understand.
When you don't allow yourself permission for your heart to speak, you can never step out into the big wide world that God created for you — even as the waters rise and carry your soul through the desert or the storm.
Desert or storm, you and I were destined to walk with Jesus by faith – to trace the rainbow through the rain.
Through The Rain
We were just making our way back home from the coast, my husband, two boys and I. It was raining ever so lightly and I was sitting back, looking out into the great expanse of space along the drive through the winter landscape.
Then, without warning, our situation rapidly changed.
In less than a moment, the windshield was pounded by a smattering torrential downpour and although the wipers whipped violently side to side, to push it away, sheets of water continuously poured onto us, blurring our vision completely.
We all let out a collective gasp and as we drove through the last of the flash flood, it seemed our car jumped out into a clearing of mist and sprinkle.
And in the distance, ever so faintly, against the dark clouds gathering, a patch of white light broke through the canopy like moonlight, next to a mountain's edge.
As I followed that light from the sky, down to the arid terrain of broken rock and mud — cracked like paint on a wall I once knew – I traced a rainbow through the rain.
Trace The Rainbow
The words I write to you this morning come from a place within me where I haven't visited in a long time.
But, I've been wandering, to find my direction — to reconcile what I know in my head, with the uncertain realities of what I'm experiencing in my heart.
This happened because of unexpected changes, frought with anxiety, when what we feel we can deal with is not matching with our experience.
And it is all too overwhelming.
We cannot hold onto all these pieces.
And we are weary from trying to get ourselves to feel okay about it all.
Jesus brought a rainbow to answer cries I've asked in silence, as I struggled to reign in my heart.
Why can't you keep a rainbow in the sky all the time, so I can see it? I answered. Why does the rainbow only last for a moment and then disappear?
You are my rainbow, Jesus answered.
It doesn't need to stop raining, Bonnie.
Because I'm keeping my promise.
I'm staying right here.
Alive in you.
Always.
Trace the rainbow through the rain. He seemed to say.
Tracing the Rainbow
Sometimes we look for joy after the rain.
But, Jesus tells us joy is seeking us through the pain.
Because He is reaching out to touch us, even as we stare into the things that distract us from the life He wants us to freely live.
Jesus wraps us into His embrace as we do this.
And He whispers.
Come walk with me.
Out in the big wide world — as is.
You were meant for more than this.
In the moments your heart is open, how do you best experience your true voice breaking through — touching your soul?
On the days you feel most alone, how can you trace the rainbow of His presence — even if it should last a moment?
Where do you want to go?
What do you want to do?
What do you want to say?
How can you express that deeper part of your life with Jesus?
On the days we seem only able to offer the smallest movements, Jesus is coming alive more than ever in us, folding our heart into His.
"I have placed my rainbow in the clouds.
It is the sign of my permanent promise to you"
~ Gen 9:13 NLT
Pull up a chair. Click to comment.
Let's trace the rainbow together – even if it seems momentary like a memory — sharing it gives voice to what Jesus has whispered to me and you.
~~~~~
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith.
:angel:
Playing at Worship
Feb 26, 2013 12:10 am | hcaliri
Image credit: Cowgirl Fever
I love a good list. Even if the task is unpleasant, I grit my teeth and don't procrastinate.
This might sound like a good thing.
But when it comes to connecting to Jesus, my type A personality has often robbed me of the very thing I'm longing for: joy.
Since I became a Christian, I've known that daily connection to God is important. I've known it's something I should do. So I have. With about as much joy as you'd expect.
There's a place for discipline even when the feelings aren't there. But only discipline leads me to a place of bleakness. Not to Jesus.
Lately, watching my girls play, I'm struck by how enthusiastically they connect to God.
My eldest brings me her story Bible and asks for David and Goliath. She makes up impromptu praise songs on walks. She and her sister put on a worship CD and jump on the bed. They "play" church, strumming on a guitar.
Lately, I'm trying to follow their lead. Instead of checking Jesus off my list of things to do, I'm trying to play at worshipping him.
I put on the training wheels. In my twenties, a "good" quiet time was full of elaborate effort. Now, I'm find more closeness with God when I keep it radically simple. I'll read a short daily devotional from the Book of Common Prayer—the same words, every day. These "rote" prayers have worn lovely grooves into my memory that I return to over and over during the day. That's dearer to me than 1000 concordance references.
I get out the craft supplies. If I find a verse that resonates with me, I write it out with my best handwriting and decorate it with markers or paint. Heck, I'd use googly eyes if it helped.
I join the circle time. When my girls want to play church, I join in. The other day, my oldest led my youngest and me in worship for a good fifteen minutes. She stood on a coffee table and sang the words to some favorite praise hymns. I think it's one of the most uplifting worship experiences I've had—ever.
I start a sing-a-long. We've invested in some great worship CDs that set Bible verses to music. The other day, full of anxiety, I put on the "Courage" CD. I danced around the room (my daughters joined in) for a few minutes. After we stopped, God's Word echoed in my head all day, instead of the fretting I'd heard before.
I find a buddy. I asked a friend to pray with me once a week. Praying together connects me to someone dear to me; knowing her prayer requests motivates me to pray throughout the week.
I tell my Daddy. If even the little I do starts oppressing me, I stop it, and lift my hurt up to God. I ask him to renew a joyful desire for prayer and worship. Being honest with God eases my heart. He has blessed me over and over by answering my prayer.
I like to get things done. I like to feel accomplished. But when it comes to Jesus, I'm finding less of me is more. Less striving helps me sit at Jesus' feet.
I thank God every day for giving me my kids' example to follow. Watching them, I'm leaning on Him more faithfully. And I'm becoming—Praise Jesus!—more like the child he commanded me to be.
By Heather Caliri of A Little Yes
:angel:
When God's Voice Sounds a Lot Like Twila Paris
Feb 27, 2013 12:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
"Honey, go home. You haven't slept more than a few hours in five days. I'll stay with him. Surgery is scheduled for 8 am. You need to sleep when you can," murmured my husband.
Tipping the newborn scales at 10.5 pounds, our five day old son snoozed soundly in his crib at Children's Hospital. Diagnosed with the congenital birth disease, Hirschsprung's, our pediatric surgeon explained that I couldn't nurse our babe again until they completed his colostomy in the morning.
My emotions whirled from the day's diagnosis, but at least we finally had answers.
"Lord, I beg you. Calm my wavering heart. Help me focus my attention on your many gifts," I exhaled, as I processed through my short, choppy prayer. "At the worst, he lives life with a "bathroom bag", and sports won't be his thing. He'll adjust. He can deal with that. Two surgeries are nothing in comparison to what it could be. This is not life threatening. Thank you, Lord. Use this."
Exhausted, broken, yet grateful, I gathered my belongings and began heading to the parking structure.
My brother jogged after me and insisted, "Let me drive you. You shouldn't be driving home by yourself."
"No thanks. I really need the time alone to process all the information of today."
As I trudged through the parking garage, the "What If's" began dancing through my mind. Exhaustion blanketed my thought process and emotions reeled. I begged the Lord to set my mind on things above: His truth, His omniscience, His perfect love that casts out all fear.
Pulling onto the highway, I cranked the local Christian music station knowing that praise music would help squelch any darkness permeating my car. A brand new song by Twila Paris, God is in Control, rang out. Never having played the song before, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My breath caught, and I pulled over to the side of the road to listen more intently.
"God is in Control. We believe that His children will not be forsaken. God is in control. We will choose to remember and never be shaken."
The tears flowed. I couldn't stop.
Gasping for breath, my whimper turned to wailing, as the spirit of the Lord descended into that car. He spoke so clearly. Reaching down His loving arms, He gently rocked me, and whispered, "Remember, Matthew's mine. Remember."
"God is in control. We believe that His children will not be forsaken. God is in control. We will choose to remember and never be shaken.
There is no power above or beside Him, we know, God is in control.
He has never let you down. Why start to worry now? He is still the Lord of all we see and He is still the loving Father watching over you and me.
God is in control."
Oh Lord, how quickly I forget.
Scripture reminds me that You are the same yesterday, today and forever. You do not change.
Ladies, on that summer evening seventeen years ago, God's voice sounded a whole lot like Twila Paris, and I have never forgotten this moment's critical significance on my life. I did not hear a God who only chose to speak audibly to the people of the Old Testament. No, I heard the one and only, true and living God who sang truth straight to this momma's heart in the middle of crisis.
My Savior who loved, and continues to love, my tiny babe more than I ever could, met me in a dark car.
His creative medium that particular day? A song. The outcome? Life Change.
As I finished my drive home, peace enveloped me. I can't begin to explain it, but on one of the scariest evenings of my life, I set my alarm and slept through the night like a baby (a really good baby).
In Matthew 11, Jesus declares, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."
Hearing is a discipline and too often, I make every excuse as to why God feels distant, but I am reminded once again of His desire to speak truth intimately and directly to us, just like that moment in my car.
Often, it's in the ordinary, every day, simple moments of life when he chooses to reach out and minister to us. I love that He uses so many creative mediums to do so, and we just have to quiet our heart and listen expectantly in order to hear what He has to say.
With that in mind, can I ask you a favor?
It's always such an encouragement to our (in)courage community to hear stories from each other.
Is there a time when the Lord spoke so clearly to you that it had a significant impact on your life?
Remember, many life change moments come from simple stories of faithful followers hearing His still small voice in ordinary, unexpected times as well as the big, bold moments. Now is the time to encourage each other and share your story.
I'm so excited to read it.
"When God's voice sounds a lot like Twila Paris" situations typically only happen once in a lifetime (or twice for me, but that's for another time.)
And just in case you were wondering, that seventeen year old baby boy is now being recruited by multiple Division 1 football teams. (Oh yes, the story definitely didn't end that surgery morning when the alarm went off. It was only warming up.) :)
~~~~~
post by Jen Schmidt, author of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, and her new food blog, 10 Minute Dinners.
:angel:
How to make it through a tidal wave
Feb 28, 2013 12:20 am | Arianne
You look around and you find yourself standing at the edge of a shoreline. You can see it coming up ahead. A huge tidal wave.
You have no doubt that it will reach you. You start to tremble. What do you do?
Maybe you consider running, but you quickly realize you're out of time, and there's no way you'll run far enough or fast enough.
So you decide to hunker down. You're praying, and you are reminded of God's love for you. His protection, His affection, it's all there, but you decide to keep those things in your hand. You ball up into the smallest ball you can turn yourself into, hunched down on that shore, hand clenched tight with Jesus inside. You imagine that if you hold that small piece of God, just hold on tight, that it will be enough.
But you start to worry about that wave again. Oh, it's a doozy. You very well might not be able to stand the impact, even with that piece of God in your hand.
So what can you really do?
***
I work through long held heart-issues and I can even get temporary freedom from them. That is, until I wake up the next day and it's groundhog day all over again, and I wonder what all that praying was for. All that surrendering I did. I knew the Truth, I believed — so why wasn't it enough?
This week I shared a story about letting go of shame from my past, 10 years later. And when this happened, just a few days ago, I learned something completely new. I knew what it was that had to be done differently this time.
I don't need to just know that hard stuff is going to hit me, and then steel up and stand there and get pelted while holding tiny bits of Truth in my hand, hoping it's all enough.
What I needed to do was see that hard stuff coming, and become bigger and unreachable. Untouchable, even.
How do you do this, when you face the hard heart-issues? How do you face fear, condemnation, shame, judgment, and all their horrible friends, and get through unscathed?
By letting God's love grow big.
(This is not just a cliche – stay with me here, friends.)
Instead of curling up into a ball and letting the storm hit and just praying I make it through, I can receive His love, let it grow big, and let it make me untouchable. I let His love wash away ALL of the lies I'm believing. All those fallacies. I let His love change my mind about myself.
There is a place of freedom I'm being called into. A wholeness. He wants to make me whole. That place is peace and love and yes, untouchable. Oh how the lines fall in beautiful places.
Let God's love grow you big, bigger than the tidal wave ahead that you see coming. Bigger than that issue which stresses you to your core. Bigger than those people who don't understand you, don't know you. Bigger than those hurts that are not yet healed.
Let Him be big.
***
Arianne blogs at Mabel + Riv, a lifestyle blog about faith, family and style and lives with her 4 children and husband in Phoenix Arizona.
:angel:
God And Bumper Bowling
Feb 28, 2013 12:10 am | Kerry Messer
So many of my close friends are unemployed or coping with awful diseases...and really struggling. Are you in the same boat?
Wouldn't you love to wave a magic wand and make the struggles disappear? Not so fast. God has something better in mind.
Have you ever watched a kid bumper bowl? Unable to manage the weighty ball, the child drops it with a thud onto the lane. Eyes glued to his ball, he hops nervously up and down in an attempt to will the ball toward the pins.
That ball wobbles down the lane slower than grass growing. You hold your breath – praying the ball veers to one side. At this point, contact with the bumper is the only thing able to prevent the ball from stalling out in the middle of the lane.
A minor collision between ball and bumper provides enough momentum to propel the black orb to finally land a sweet kiss on one pin. Pins topple as cheers erupt from the child and sighs of relief are exhaled by on-lookers.
How much of this bowling triumph was due to the strength and accuracy of the tiny bowler? What role did the bumper play?
In the bowling game of life we are unskilled children and the boundaries of our struggles are God-ordained bumpers. His Word teaches us why he surrounds us with limitations,
"From one man He created all the nations throughout the whole earth.
He decided beforehand when they should rise and fall, and He determined their boundaries."
~ Acts 17:26
The nitty-gritty details of your life that make it your life are not stumbling blocks preventing you from knowing God. Quite the opposite. God displays his hand of sovereignty over the "bumpers" of your life with this profoundly tender picture,
"His purpose was for the nations to seek after God and perhaps feel their way toward Him and find Him – though He is not far from any one of us."
~ Acts 17:27
He placed you in a setting with a cast of characters specifically designed to move you in his direction. He padded your gutters!
The stuff you're bumping into, and off of, is not put in your path to aggravate you. God lovingly placed it there to redirect you toward Him and to keep you out of the gutter.
When you collide with daily struggles, don't allow yourself to linger in frustration. Search for how God wants to use them.
What are you bumping into this week?
Will you ask God to use that collision to propel you closer to Him?
By Kerry Messer
:angel:
A Community Mess
Mar 01, 2013 12:20 am | Kristen Welch
The curtains hung half hazard, cups and plates piled high, throw pillows thrown. My hubby wiped the table, I put away leftovers, stepping over a misplaced toy on the kitchen floor, the kids tattled. "Mom, one of the kids said a bad word tonight."
It was just another night of community group in our home, kids and parents at our table, breaking bread -and apparently wall hangings-together.
No one said it would perfect. This loud, messy gathering of friends filling our house and our hearts. Sure there's inconvenience and sacrifice involved, but we cannot deny the absolute benefit of doing life with others.
Community is a lot like family, it takes hard work.
Community is just a messy group of dysfunctional people trying to figure this thing out together.
I'm convinced we cannot fulfill God's unique purpose for our lives without it.
We laugh and commune, hold each other accountable, share the joys and the sorrows. We travel through the mountains and valleys together. Community builds up a treasure chest of shared experiences and the bond grows. Community allows us to set aside our differences.
I don't know about you, but God didn't give me a perfect family. We are a bunch of sinners trying to live out the gospel, getting it wrong more than right.
We are weak and wounded, but when He shines through the thin places, He is most effective in us and through us.
It's the same with community.
"As you live in close contact with me, the light of my presence filters through you to bless others. Your weakness and woundedness are the openings through which the Light of the knowledge of my Glory shines forth. My strength and power show themselves most effective in your weakness." Jesus Calling
We often make community about us. What can this give me? What empty place will this fill? And while the rewards are there, the end goal of search for community is not how community will help us, but how community will benefit the world.
"Jesus had the most rag-tag small group ever – complaining, fighting, betrayal. But He stuck with them, and they changed the world." -Jason Johnson
For His glory.
We need community. Community needs us. "Community is not a luxury but a necessity for life. People need to be involved in meaningful and constant community or they will continue on indefinitely in a state of intense loneliness." -Randy Frazee
How are you pursing community today? Can I urge you to push past the mess that comes with dysfunction and pursue life together with others?
Because we cannot live without it.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel: :angel:
Moving Upward: A prayer
Mar 01, 2013 12:10 am | Robin Dance
O most high, glorious God, how great is my dilemma!
In your awful presence silence seems best.
And yet, if I keep my peace, the rocks themselves will cry out.
But if I do speak, what will I say?
It is Love that calls forth my speech, though it still feels like stammering.
I love you, Lord. I adore you. I worship you. I bow down before you.
Thank you for your gifts of grace:
- the consistency of sunrise and sunset,
- the wonder of colors,
- the solace of voices I know.
I magnify you, Lord. Let me see your greatness–to the extent that I can receive it.
Help me bow in your presence in endless wonder and ceaseless praise.
In the name of him whose adoration never failed.
~ Amen.
From Richard Foster's Prayer: Finding the Heart's True Home, Chapter 8, The Prayer of Adoration.
:angel: :angel:
Teaching Our Kids To Embrace Grace
Mar 02, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Markley
I grew up without a clear understanding of the grace of God.
I knew God saved and that he forgave, but grace, this undeserved thing? It was like liquid through my hands.
It wasn't until I was an adult that I believe I began my journey to understand this vast part of God and I'm still learning every day. However as a mother, I want to raise a family who embraces a grace-filled lifestyle. I've been thinking about how we can actually do this in a church that still shoots it's wounded.
Here are five real world ways that we can begin to raise kids who embrace the idea of a grace-filled God.
1. Give our spouses grace
There is nothing more life-altering, I believe, than simply getting married and allowing that life partner to affect you in so many ways. The people closest to us have the ability to hurt us the most and also have the ability to heal us the best. When we show our spouses grace on a daily basis we teach our children what it's like to live within a circle of grace with our spouses.
What that looks like: Grace for our spouses is a gentle, loving attitude toward irritating habits, toward sharp words and toward hurtful things. It's a daily choice to offer gracious, loving care to our mates even when it's hard. When our kids see this, I believe they begin to understand that a lifestyle of grace is possible.
2. Practice grace in our female relationships
I don't have to tell you that girls can be mean. And I'm not just talking about tweens or teens, but adult girls. Yes, you and me. Our daughters and sons watch how we treat other women. They watch it and they mimic it. They see how we treat our friends and it becomes a part of what they think is normal. If we want our children to grow up in a way that they learn to be grace-filled and be that way in their own relationships someday, then we need to take the first step and BE grace to our girlfriends.
What that looks like: Grace for our friends is truly, honestly forgiving them when they wound us. Girls hurt other girls. It happens too much and when we truly forgive our friends, our children see this. They notice it. They won't hear the grumbling we do when someone irritates us because that irritation will be covered in God's grace. We don't make "black lists," we allow relationships to be renewed if they've been hurt and we take the first steps when things have gone awry.
3. Show grace in our parenting
Our kids are people. I mean, they are fully formed souls and fully completed humans who are deserving of the respect that we give any human being on earth. That said, shame or oppression should never find its way into our parenting. When we parent well (with good boundaries and appropriate consequences for misbehavior) we show our children respect. When we allow their disobedience to be just that, disobedience, and not something that offends us personally, we show them grace. I believe that parenting must be a healthy balance of boundaries and grace (just like God does with us) and our children will carry that on into their own families when they get older.
What that looks like: For every family, this might look different. In my home, it means that once in awhile, after a conversation about why their misbehavior is wrong and both the spiritual and real world consequences of bad choices, I might give them grace. I think that coupled with good boundaries and regular consequences, a "grace" once in awhile is good for both my soul and the souls of my daughters. It also means listening to them (if they are old enough to verbalize this) when they explain why they made the choice they did. Everyone wants to be heard.
4. Reject legalism
Legalism is the antithesis of grace. Legalism says that the law is still king and in essence, Jesus' blood has not redeemed anything. Legalism says that grace is for the weak because "truth" is more important than anything else. Legalism takes "truth" and makes it into an idol. It's important that our hearts and our churches and our groups of friends are free from legalism because it hampers a child's ability to grow up in a healthy understanding of who God really is and how grand His love and grace is.
What this looks like: Choose Christian communities to be a part of that embrace grace. Choose friends and life-doers that embrace a grace-filled lifestyle. Analyze the why's of rules in your home: if there are sufficient moral and practical reasoning behind them, then keep at it. But if a rule is there because it is a rule and no other reason, examine the necessity of it. Talk about the love of God with your children and daily, together, recognize the ways that He loves us and blesses in both big and small ways.
5. Forgive even when there is not repentance
It would be a sad day if there was only forgiveness if there was repentance. God accepts us while we were sinners, before we turn around and walk the other way. A grace-filled life (and one that will trickle down toward your kids) is one where we forgive before the wound has been healed, we offer grace before the "I'm Sorry" has been said and we love that person back into right relationship with us. What if they never apologize? I have realized that there are some wrongs that will never be made right. Do I then live my life in bitterness and unforgiveness toward the wounder? I can't. It's impossible. I forgive before the repentance and that is what makes my heart move forward.
What this looks like: For our kids to learn this, I believe it is a life long journey for them as it has been for us. Is there a one of us, as adults, who doesn't have a little twinge of unforgiveness toward someone? It's hard and grace isn't easy. But when we daily make the choice to forgive, and when we begin to use language of grace and forgiveness in our homes, I believe our children will come away from these 18 years with a foundation underpinning of grace and forgiveness.
Grace in our families looks different in everyone's home, but if we are mothers, I believe that one of our jobs to raise children who love God and His grace as much as we do.
What have you found that helps teach your kids about grace and forgiveness?
:angel:
Climbing the Stairs Like a Toddler
Mar 04, 2013 12:20 am | Jessica Turner
My almost two-year-old daughter Adeline LOVES to go up and down the stairs all by herself.
"I do it!" she screams. "No, Mommy!"
Oftentimes she will want to go down carrying several books and a baby doll, making the trek up nearly impossible – and at a snail's pace.
Sometimes I pick her up to make it go faster.
It's bath time and I'm in a rush.
It's breakfast time and we are running late.
I get impatient and I hurry her.
Oftentimes when I scoop up her 26-lbs of soft baby chub, she screams "NOOOOOO" all the way down the stairs.
And I feel bad that I have let my impatience take over.
I've come to realize that I must let her do it herself.
I must be patient.
She is learning every day. Mastering new skills. Exploring the world.
And when I pick her up, I am hindering that process.
It makes me think about our heavenly Father.
Oftentimes, I bet he watches us moving slowly with too much on our hands and thinks, "gosh, I wish I could pick her up and just take her up those stairs myself."
But He is a wiser parent than me.
He knows that its about the journey too, not just the destination.
And so He waits patiently, knowing that before long we will be running up the stairs.
Just like Adeline.
What lesson have your children taught you about our heavenly Father?
:angel:
Walking By Faith
Mar 05, 2013 12:10 am | Anna White
The waves of death crashed over me,
devil waters rushed over me.
Hell's ropes cinched me tight;
death traps barred every exit.
I used to lead worship at my church, and someone told me once that something happened when I sang. She told me that on some nights when she looked at me all she could see was my heart.
But me he caught-reached all the way
from sky to sea; he pulled me out of that ocean of hate.
He stood me up on a wide-open field;
I stood there saved-surprised to be loved!
Oh my heart, I don't know what to tell it. Since I've been doing this writing it feels like my skin and bone are peeled back and I'm open to the air. I wonder if I can live like this, where things are so bright and life is pressed up hard against my ribs. I'm in an ocean of grace, being pulled out into the deep where I can't keep my head above water and my toes in the sand at the same time.
I feel put back together,
and I'm watching my step.
God rewrote the text of my life
when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.
Things are happening, there's a changing way down deep. Something new is coming, but what I cannot say. I can't see the path, but I keep putting my foot down and every time there's something solid underneath. Maybe that's what walking by faith really looks like, arms held out for balance, eyes off the ground, inching forward. Just putting a foot down over and over and over again until God-light hits the road.
Suddenly, God, your light floods my path,
God drives out the darkness.
What a God! His road
stretches straight and smooth.
Every God-direction is road-tested.
Everyone who runs toward him makes it.
Scriptures excerpted from 2 Samuel Chapter 22, The Message
By Anna White
:angel:
Why "I Might Get Hurt" Doesn't Have to Stop You
Mar 06, 2013 12:20 am | Holley Gerth
photo by Maja Gotti
The words she wrote burn my heart as I read them.
I pull my fingers back from the computer as if it's a hot stove.
"I'm not so sure about putting myself out there," I whisper, "Did you see what she just said to me? What if I get hurt?"
It seems my heart hears a whisper in response: "Oh, you mean like someone might crucify you?"
Big gulp.
Huh.
The Spirit makes excellent points. Like this one: The reality that we might get hurt doesn't give us a reason not to do something.
Jesus died with His arms wide open, His heart exposed so that we could live that that way.
And when we do get hurt {because we will} it is "by His wounds that we are healed" {Is. 53:5}
They are wounds of knowing how hard it is to choose love in an unkind world. Wounds that understand compassion can be scarce when we need it most. Wounds that teach vulnerability is great strength in disguise.
I pull my chair back up to the keyboard. I email a friend and ask her to pray that I will be brave.
Then I type some more.
Because it's the best way I know of to bear witness to this kind of Love.
Love that holds nothing back–and promises to hold me through it all.
– Holley Gerth, author of the new book You're Made for a God-sized Dream: Opening the Door to All God Has for You
:angel:
Giving The Gift Of Presence
Mar 07, 2013 12:10 am | LesleyMiller
We'd owned our little white 1948 bungalow exactly one year, closing just before Christmas 2010 when I was newly pregnant. This year was our first opportunity to hang Christmas lights, and even though I wanted them hung desperately, I knew better than to push the idea.
For six weeks prior we'd been waiting for staging results. It was Hodgkin's Lymphoma, we knew that, but no one could figure out how far it spread. The merriness of the season had been replaced with the cold chill of uncertainty and grief. So when Jonathan asked a friend to help him hang the lights—his spine too sore from a bone marrow biopsy to do it himself—I knew just how much he was craving normalcy too.
Chemotherapy started on a Friday, one week before Christmas. We hunkered down, him determined to roll with the waves of nausea, me determined to roll with his changing needs.
By Sunday night the worst of all possible scenarios happened—I, the caregiver, came down with a stomach flu. With Jonathan facing high risk of infection, he was banned to the futon while I alternated between our bedroom and the bathroom. At 2:00am, just after throwing up again, I heard Anna's cries. She wanted to nurse. I sat at the edge of my bed sobbing. I didn't think I had anything left in my own body to offer her or anyone.
In a state of complete surrender, I posted a short prayer to a site set-up to keep family and friends updated on Jonathan's cancer battle. "I am sick, Jonathan is sick, we covet your prayers," it said.
Perhaps you've had moments like this—moments when you're so weak there are no words for Christ, only tears. I needed other people pleading on my behalf. What I didn't expect was the physical help that arrived too.
At 10:00am the next morning a gentle knock at the door awakened me from a couch nap. It was Shirley, our neighbor who'd lived on the street for over 50 years. She held a Tupperware of soup and homemade banana bread. "I read that you're sick," she said. "Take this, and call me if you need more."
It didn't stop there.
Tammy called to offer help babysitting, and Kara dropped off Cajun stew on our doorstep, and Anna stopped by with medicine, and Sharon cried with me when I showed up unannounced at her house.
These small acts might seem like nothing miraculous, but what made them so was their timing. If you're like me, this past holiday season was non-stop busy. I'm baking bread, licking envelopes, crafting cards, delivering gifts, and doing all the other crazy things we women convince ourselves "need" to get done. But, despite it being just days before Christmas, my friends placed me above their checklists. They chose to be like Mary, who sat at our Lord's feet instead of fretting about the lights not being hung on the house, or the sugar cookies not being ready.
I will probably still write a to-do list next Christmas and in the busy times to come, but before getting presents I plan to be present. Because my friends taught me last Christmas that the best gift is a willingness to show up for people even when they don't ask, in ways they may not even know they need.
We live in a broken world. And sometimes, a certain season is especially painful for families. Who in your life needs less of your presents and more of your presence?
By: Lesley Miller
:angel:
Pop! Goes the Bum Knee
Mar 08, 2013 12:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
As of this writing, I can't bend my left leg. It's in a lovely black-and-gray foam brace that starts at my upper thigh and ends mid-calf, and it's accessorized with a charming pair of slate gray crutches. It's what everyone will be wearing this spring.
Actually, what happened was my family and I went skiing for the day (we're within a few hours' drive to five ski resorts), and I thought it'd be fun to somersault down a black slope with my husband watching. I've been skiing for 25 years, but I prefer the nice, intermediate blue slopes, and yet the only way down the top of the mountain was a short black run.
About twenty feet down, my ski caught a clump of snow, and down I went. And mid-spin, my foot went one way while my knee when another. Pop. Good times.
So now I'm here, sitting in an armchair in my living room while my foot rests extended on the ottoman. In front of me on the coffee table is a heap of papers, library books, water bottles, and a plastic box of baby wipes.
On the floor to the left of me lay a random pile of little boys' dirty clothes, a collapsed purple scooter, and a box of wooden train tracks outpoured. Oh, and three matchbox cars. And a pacifier.
To my right, on the dresser, sits an ever-increasing pile of school papers to sort through. I also spy an overdue library book, mocking me with dime-sized daily charges. Oh look, there's a toy lizard I can't reach. And a blue bowl of half-eaten crackers.
"GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places." -Habakkuk 3:19
I'm learning to burrow deep in to the God of my blessings, because my husband is amazing and doing the work of two parents while I sit and watch. I can read bedtime stories, fold the laundry, and review the week's spelling words. I can thankfully work, because writing requires a laptop and a chair, and I have access to both. And I still have half a lap for my two-year-old to shimmy up and snuggle in my arms, because he wants his mama despite that pesky leg brace.
"I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living." -Psalm 27:13
The messes aren't going away any time soon, and it'll take time for my knee to heal. But God is still good. The sun still shines through my window. I'm surrounded by blessings.
Sure, I wish my knee were healed, and that I don't have to deal with health insurance and surgery and physical therapy. But God is still good. He's still good. I have every reason to rejoice.
How are you learning to rejoice in your current less-than-perfect circumstance?
By Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
When You're Expected to "Pull it Together"
Mar 09, 2013 12:00 am | Angela Nazworth
I have been pregnant three times. I have given birth twice.
Fragmented memories remain of the day I lost my first baby–the child whose heart thumped in my womb for only eight short weeks. I remember the horror I felt when I discovered the first scarlet spots alerting me that my baby was gone. I remember the weight of my husband's hand resting heavy on my shoulder when my doctor confirmed our fears and tried to comfort us with statistics. I remember the coldness that swept through my chest when the nurse assisting with the examination gave me a stern warning as I shakily made my way toward the exit.
"Now I know you've heard some unsettling news, but you need to pull it together," she cautioned as I brushed tears off my cheeks and neck. "You're young. You'll get pregnant again in no time. There are women in that waiting room who are pregnant now and they don't need to be upset. So just get a hold of your emotions before you go out there."
Then, with a pat on my back, she scurried away ... leaving me embarrassed by my grief.
My legs trembled as if I was walking a tight rope without a safety net. Through blurred vision, I forced a stoic expression, entwined my trembling fingers with those belonging to my husband, and walked out of the building. With each step, one thought bounced around my mind.
Pull it together. I need to pull it together. Pull it together.
I've heard those words numerous times throughout my life in various situations. Sometimes they were spoken by well-meaning individuals. Other times, I whispered the phrase to myself.
A graveside vigil. Pull it together.
Job loss. Pull it together.
A loved one's betrayal. Pull it together.
Saying goodbye to dear friends. Pull it together.
Overwhelmed by an infant's colicky cries or a toddler's 40-minute tantrum. Pull it together.
I'm sure that everyone who reads this post can add to the list above.
Truth be told, I think the expectation of "pulling it together" during times of emotional agony is often misguided. Hannah, the mother of the prophet Samuel is a beautiful example from scripture of a woman who mourned honestly before the Lord. Hannah didn't "pull it together." You can read her story in the first chapter of 1 Samuel, but here is an excerpt from 1 Samuel 1:10-16:
"In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly. And she made a vow, saying, 'Lord Almighty, if you will only look on your servant's misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.' As she kept on praying to the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying in her heart, and her lips were moving but her voice was not heard. Eli thought she was drunk and said to her, 'How long are you going to stay drunk? Put away your wine.' 'Not so, my lord,' Hannah replied, 'I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.'"
At that wall, Hannah unraveled the twisted knots of her grieving heart before God and it was messy. Passersby probably shook their heads. Eli mistook her agony for drunkenness. Hannah's core was shaken. Her heart was broken. Her hope was nearly threadbare. She wasn't able to "pull it together,"... not one her own ... but she knew where to turn as her emotions were shred to bits.
The fiery pain of a personal loss is immeasurable. And each person's threshold for heartache is different. There are times when we cannot pull it together.
God doesn't command us to pull it together.
In the moments when torment throbs deep, God doesn't bark "stiffen that upper lip, girl." He instead whispers "come to me dear one, come to me." He invites us to crumple into the comforting arms of Christ ... to pray ... to scream ... to beg with abandon ... to heal.
"For He has not despised or detested the torment of the afflicted. He did not hide His face from him, but listened when he cried to Him for help." Psalm 22:
:angel:
I Want To Run Away
Mar 12, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa
You want to know one of the worst feelings in the world to me? Feeling stuck.
Stuck in a situation where I can't see things getting better. I look at the next 5 minutes, 5 hours, 5 days and all I see are the same hard patterns being repeated over and over and over.
I try to give myself a little pep rally of sorts and tap into that Pollyanna girl that's inside me somewhere. The part of me that knows the glass is half-full and chooses to see the bright side. But Pollyanna isn't there.
Life suddenly feels like it will forever be this way.
And this dark funk eclipses me.
This happened to me when my two oldest daughters were babies. Hope was not quite 16 months old when I gave birth to Ashley. I was thankful for these two amazing gifts. I knew they were blessings. I loved them very much.
But there was this other side of motherhood no one talked to me about beforehand. It never came up at my baby shower or a doctor's appointment or in conversations with the mommies that had gone before me.
In the midst of all the pink happiness, the dark funk came. This desperate feeling that life would forever be an endless string of sleepless nights. Leaky diapers. Needy cries.
Forever.
One night in between feedings I went to the drug store to get some baby Tylenol. I pulled into a parking space right in front of the restaurant beside the drug store and stared inside. There were normal people in there. Laughing. Eating. Having fun conversations. They had on cute outfits and fixed hair-dos.
I looked at my reflection in the rear view mirror.
I cried.
This is my life. Forever.
Suddenly I had this crazy desire to run away. Far away.
And then guilt slammed into my already fragile heart and I convinced myself God was going to punish me for feeling this way and take one of my babies. Teach me a lesson. Smite me for being so stinkin' selfish.
I cried until I could hardly breathe.
I thought about this the other day when I started feeling stuck in a different situation.
A situation that felt so big and made me so sad. I felt myself on that edge of the dark funk thinking this is the way it's going to be forever.
But then I remembered that night crying in my car. I realized those days of diapers and no sleep weren't forever. It was a season. A season that came and went. And this would play out that way too.
It's the rhythm of life. The ebb and flow of struggles and victories.
I closed my eyes and whispered, "Are you here God? Hold me. Breathe courage into my weak will. Help me."
And in that moment I realized all that God ever wants from me is to want Him. Love Him. Acknowledge Him.
In the midst of struggles. In the midst of my victories. "God, I love you. I don't love this situation. But I love you. Therefore, I have everything I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other and walk through until I get to the other side of this."
One step at a time. With the full assurance God is okay with me even when I'm not okay with me.
"If you carefully observe all these commands I am giving you to follow – to love the Lord your God, to walk in all His ways and to hold fast to Him – then the Lord will drive out all these nations before you, and you will dispossess nations larger and stronger than you." (Deuteronomy 11:22-23)
I love how the Scriptures say, "hold fast" to the Lord. The dark funk makes me want to hold slow. Make God the last thing I try when I'm stumbling and falling. But if I close my eyes and simply whisper, "God..." at the utterance of His name He "dispossess" things trying to possess me.
Then I can see this is a season. This isn't how it's going to be forever. Though my circumstances may not change today, my outlook surely can. And if my mind can rise above, my heart gets unstuck.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Looking for a book that will encourage you when you're in a dark place? Check out Lysa's new book Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy!
Read More | Leave a Comment
Powerful Words
Mar 12, 2013 01:10 am | Lexie Thomas
Words.
They move us, excite us, inspire us, and explain us. Lots of times they build us up, growing and nurturing the soul. Plenty of times, though, they are much more sinister. They destroy and tear down and utterly crush us.
I've been thinking a bit lately on the power of words, their power to heal and their power to hurt. Being on the receiving end of painful words, words that cut to the quick, that pierce your heart and ache deep, you know that soon it will pass....but right now?
Right now you can't even breathe for the pain.
"Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear." Ephesians 4:29
It's been on a 3X5 in my kitchen staring me in the face for about a year now.
Because you see, I myself struggle with words. With using them as weapons to pierce and to hurt. Waging war with another through subtle and not so subtle utterances.
Recently I told my husband that I got a taste of my own medicine being on the receiving end. And do you know what happened? I realized that those of us who use words as weapons have been wounded by them the most deeply. We utilize their destructive power because we have been destroyed by them. And like hurt people we lash out in the way we think will hurt the most.
With words.
Experience has shown us that they work, that they wield power and that using them may bring preservation, if only temporarily.
Whoever said that sticks and stones break bones but words really don't harm us?
Words can bring the most harm and can cut the most deeply and last the longest. Yet oddly, as much as it pains being on the receiving end, I keep the vicious cycle alive by wounding in the same form.
But God had something different in mind didn't He?
Something like cutting out those hurtful words and stopping the cycle of destruction in its path. Replacing those words with words that do the opposite. Words that bring life, build up, and encourage. Why?
To pour out grace.
To give grace to those who hear. Grace, in the form of words seasoned with salt (Colossians 4:6).
Doesn't it always come down to just that?
Giving grace in response to the grace we've been given? Grace that was costly to Christ and totally undeserved but free to us beckons us to pour out free grace that will cost us (our pride? the last word?) and probably isn't deserved either. Extending the grace we've been given, not the wrath that we deserve.
Yes, it does come down to grace. Because words can bring harm, but we can choose to pour grace all over instead, speaking words that build up and bring life.
Ceasing the cycle, and receiving anew our own free grace that cannot keep from being given again and again and again.
By Lexie Thomas
:angel:
Because There's Nothing Wimpy About Being An Encourager
Mar 13, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
I've heard it whispered and seen it written in more than one place:
Some encouragers are soft cliché whipper-outers with faith deep as a kiddie pool. Sure, they're nice and all, but they lack thoughtful opinions, creative ideas, and savvy smarts. Their words aren't all that courageous or brave.
I can't deny this has been a fear of mine {says the girl whose blog is named Chasing Blue Skies }. But when push comes to shove, I always revisit the same word to describe this line of thinking:
Hogwash.
Yes ma'am.
As an encourager, there is nothing namby-pamby about you because:
You are fierce. You know there's no mistaking gentle words and a gentle approach for a heart that beats with fiery passion to see others – and help others see themselves – the way God does. You may prefer quiet, intimate places to express certain thoughts, but there's no denying your talent for building others up lights hearts afire like firecrackers in the night sky.
You are brave. You're a word warrior whose sword never gets comfortable in its sheath. You wield it fast and ferociously, fighting lies with Truth.
You are generous. You tip the scales by giving more than you receive. You are quick to celebrate the accomplishments of friends. You aren't afraid to sit silently - to actively resolve to be quietly involved - and let others have the spotlight.
You are savvy. You know when to sit in the silence and when to speak up. Neither silence nor expressing words scare you, and you are skilled in deciphering which situation calls for what course of action.
You are undaunted. You stand as a lighthouse on the shore, giving others comfort and light on clear nights when the stars shine bright and stormy nights when the waters crash against the rocks.
You are gifted. The way you love people through words and beyond makes any grocery store card aisle look anemic.
You are zealous. In a world that freely flings insults, you sling love like there's no tomorrow.
You are courageous. You take the courageous path that shuns cynicism and lingers in grace and Hope.
You are healing. You treat wounds by speaking life into souls and strength into hearts.
You are creative. You brilliantly tailor words so that the listener hears the message in a way that best encourages her.
You are bold. You are a cheerleader who uses her megaphone to celebrate the everyday miracles of unsung heroes.
You are confident. You don't pretend this world doesn't hold sharp edges, but you know that you know that you know there are Hope-filled answers found in the fullness of Christ.
"God is still in the process of dispensing gifts, and He uses ordinary individuals like us to develop those gifts in other people." ~Howard Hendricks
Everyone on earth has a talent for something, but encouragers not only posses their own talents but have keen eyes for the talents of others, too.
They are helpers, not hinder-ers.
They are world changers.
And there's nothing wimpy about that.
{Want to encourage an encourager in your life? Click here to download the above free printable or visit Chasing Blue Skies for other color options.}
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Perfected
Mar 14, 2013 01:10 am | Kate Motaung
Last year, my three kids and I flew from Cape Town, South Africa to Michigan to visit my mom, who was in the final stages of metastatic breast cancer.
Upon our arrival, I was shocked to see the drastic deterioration in my mom's physical state. She didn't even rise from the couch to greet me, but instead waited for me to bend down to hug her.
When she did stand up, she relied heavily on her walker and even then, her arms were visibly shaking as she shuffled along precariously. Her breathing was labored even with the constant assistance of oxygen tubes, and her feet and hands were completely numb from countless weeks of chemo.
Once we got settled in at the house after our long flights, we called my husband on Skype to tell him that we had arrived safely. He saw Mom on the web cam and asked, "How are you?"
Although she was visibly struggling to move, she answered, "Well, I've had a few rough days, but now that Kate and the kids are here, I'm perfect."
I looked at her, slack-jawed by her choice of adjective, and thought to myself, "This woman in her current condition is about as far from perfect as a person can get."
But it did make me think about our relationship with Christ and our current condition as we wait for him to arrive. Like Mom, we are weak, unstable and riddled with pain. But as soon as Christ comes, we will be perfect.
In fact, because of Christ's sacrifice on the cross, we are already viewed as perfect, though we still grow in sanctification every day.
Hebrews 10:14 says, "For by one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy." Isn't that amazing?
Perfect forever.
For my mom, even with cancer cells consuming her entire being, she understood what it meant to be made perfect. She knew and loved the One who had made her perfect, and she rejoiced in him daily.
Not only did she rejoice in her Savior, the author and perfecter of her faith, but she also strived to give testimony to others of His grace in her life as well, even in the midst of tremendous suffering. After all, this is one of our mandates as the people of God, right?
As Colossians 1:28 states, "We proclaim him, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ."
As we slog through the mountains and valleys of life, I'd venture to guess that not many of us would use the term "perfect" in response to the simple question, "How are you?"
Yet because of Christ,
we are seen as perfect in his eyes,
we are being made perfect,
and we will be perfect forever in eternity with Him when He chooses to call us home.
What does your 'perfect' look like?
By Kate Motaung, heading home
:angel:
Because Friendship Is A Gift
Mar 15, 2013 01:20 am | Deidra
"Touch is love made manifest, a way to connect not only human to human and skin to skin, but also with...that eternal, all-encompassing energy that unites us, that infuses us with life, that reminds us that we are indeed all one and that the world is a hospitable place to be... Touching one another is what we humans do. Touch is what we need from one another and touch is what we have to give. It's what keeps us hopeful and what keeps us going, what keeps our hearts opening and softening and trusting." — Katrina Kenison, Magical Journey
I knew I'd regret it the moment it happened. Or, to be more precise, the moment it didn't happen.
Last year, during Lent, I sat on a pew near the back of the sanctuary in a church in town. The back doors were open and the sun cast long shadows along the floor. A soft breeze danced just inside the doorway and I remembered that these weekly Lenten services had begun in the colder, darker days of winter. Michelle had welcomed me and we'd been riding together each week to sing the songs, eat the bread, drink the wine, pray the prayers, and listen to the messages in the days of preparation leading up to Easter.
On this night, our friend Lyla joined us and I sat in the pew with Michelle on my right and Lyla on my left. Together, the three of us sang the songs, ate the bread, drank the wine, prayed the prayers, and listened to the message about just how much God loves us. I wanted to reach out and grab my friends' hands, but I didn't. I had an inner dialogue going on, with one voice arguing that I'd freak them out if I reached out and touched them in the middle of the church service, and another voice telling me I'd regret it if I didn't. Fear of freaking out my friends won out, and I kept my hands in my lap.
Later, in the parking lot, I told them, "I almost reached out and grabbed your hands, but I didn't want to freak you out."
"You should have," they both told me. "It would have been fine."
Last month, my husband and I visited Europe. We walked down street after street, in city after city, and saw pairs of women walking arm-in-arm or hand-in-hand everywhere I looked. They walked closely and leaned in toward one another and it was clear their friendships were treasures. I was smitten and I said to my husband, "I'm going to do that when we get home. I'm going to walk arm-in-arm with my girlfriends."
Friendship is a gift. I have learned that the hard way. Finding someone who will talk you back from the edge, encourage you to follow your dream, stay up talking until 3 AM, eat ice cream with you — straight from the container, hear your darkest confessions without flinching, and keep showing up anyway? A gift. No, a treasure.
If you've got one good friend, you've got a treasure, that's for sure. If you've got more than one good friend, you have what I've heard called an embarrassment of riches. I want my friends to know how much I love them. I want them to know they have saved my sanity on more than one occasion. I want them to know that sometimes my heart overflows with gratitude and love for them. So I'm turning a deaf ear to the voice that tells me I might just freak out my friends if I let them know how much they mean to me. A friend loves at all times. It's as simple as that.
Who are the friends in your life who mean the world to you? How do you let them know how special they are?
:angel:
Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?
"And why worry about your clothing?
Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow.
They don't work or make their clothing,
yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are."
Matthew 6:27-29
Don't worry about anything;
instead, pray about everything.
Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.
Then you will experience God's peace,
which exceeds anything we can understand.
His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7
:angel:
Is the Gospel Relevant?
Mar 18, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
When I first heard the gospel, I had no idea how it would continue to change my life. That initial ticket into Glory Land seemed sure good enough in comparison to the life of pain I had been living. Then as I've matured, I've learned that believing doesn't protect us from a life of pain. It only redeems it. Then there have been the silent times of waiting on God or times I haven't felt God. Again and again, when I hear the gospel, it seems to shift my thinking, but recently I've wondered anew: is the gospel relevant in us today?
Post by Amber C Haines
:angel:
I Want to See The Person, Not the Box
Mar 19, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
It's really easy to put people in boxes and then only see the box, not the person.
I know, because I've done it.
I also know what being put in a box feels like, and it feels like one big misunderstanding. How many of us feel misunderstood? How many times do we misunderstand others?
I've been walking out this Christian life for longer than I recognize (because God chose me before I chose Him) and I'm finally getting used to the fact that so much of this life intertwined with God is mysterious, upsetting, unnerving, practical, impractical, hard, easy, ugly, and beautiful. It's complex, like I am.
Life and people are full of complexities; when we box them up we take the easy road. We can move and place boxes without looking inside. The black ink on the front says, "Fragile" or "Trash" or "Emerging" or "Fundie" or whatever and so we don't have to think. But God doesn't do that – He doesn't put us in a box; He unwraps our hearts. He pursues our souls and He invites the ugly. People are wildly intricate and messy and fascinating. If we box people up, we close up the opportunity to really love. People are one-million dimensional.
I think sometimes we create boxes because we forget that the Bible, the Word, is alive and active, able to reach deep into the complexities of the human make-up. That Word made flesh works inside, in the deep places, piercing souls and spirit, joints and marrow. There is nothing superficial about the work that goes on behind the flesh when the Spirit is moving. The knitting of our being by the Creator of everything is too much to wrap our minds around, let alone put a box around. This is why the greatest commandment is to love. We just don't understand the big picture; we cannot see the completion that God sees.
Boxes are walls that keep us from getting too close to each other.
Boxes are walls that keep us from love.
By Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel: :angel:
Thoughts of Love, Hope and Purpose
Mar 19, 2013 01:10 am | Valerie Sisco
A beautiful bouquet of flowers adorns yet another colleague's desk. I feel obligated to show interest and ask who sent them. What's the occasion? Is it a special day or are you just someone specially thought of? Women I know who have flowers sent to them swoon about how thoughtful, romantic or special their date, boyfriend or husband is. I nod and agree that their date, boyfriend or husband is indeed spectacular. I walk away. But there's that rankling thought. My mind hears that they get flowers because they are thought about. They are special, loved and extraordinary. But my heart hears that I am not so special, loved or extraordinary. I shrug it off and head back to my desk.
If flowers can speak the language of love to a girl's heart, they can also scream doubts to a girl's soul. That maybe I'm not worth getting to know. That maybe I am not quite special enough. That I don't have what it takes to be marriage material. That after years of dating, I can't sustain a relationship to the finish line.
All I hear is that I'm not. I don't. I can't.
But perfect love can. It overpowers fear and doubt. It's the love that comes to meet me in the dark places of my soul after a disappointment, rejection or regret. This love says that God will give me the courage to face my fears and doubts. It says that I have gifts that he will help me use. It says that I can have hope for new adventures that he can lead me to that just might be amazing. My heart hears it. And I know that God is thinking of me. Thoughts filled with love, mercy, hope, and so many plans with purpose.
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord ... plans to give you a hope and a future." Jer. 29:11
When I visited Paris this summer, I passed a flower shop on almost every street corner. The tables of flowers spilled out on the sidewalk with beautiful bouquets in all sizes, from just a few sweet roses to colorful bunches. I saw Parisian women carrying flowers in one hand and a baguette in the other. As they hurried home, I wanted to follow them and join their party. Even though it might have just been a party of one. It made me think that if I lived in Paris, I would buy flowers every week. Just for me.
Because I know it's not the sender of the flowers that's important. It's remembering who brushed the petals with the vivid hues of a sunrise or the faint shades of twilight. It's knowing that God wants me to live out the vibrant life he has envisioned for me, far beyond my doubts and fears. From the day he first thought of me. With special attention, never-ending love, and extraordinary plans. I like knowing that I'm always on his mind.
"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us." I Jn 4:16a
:angel: :angel:
A Note For Megan
Mar 20, 2013 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard
A letter to my niece...
Sweet Megan,
Oh my goodness, you are so grown up already. I remember holding you as a tiny baby when I was pregnant with David. I've loved watching you grow, getting to know your sweet spirit and seeing how God is already working in your heart.
As you know, I grew up as a twin, too. I was one part of a set of two. It was she and I–always together, constantly being mixed up, laughing over silly things and sometimes driving each other crazy.
Being a twin was mostly wonderful. I had my sister beside me on the first day of school. She made friends more easily than I did and I depended on her to help me navigate new situations. Having her next to me made scary things easier.
When we were ten years old, she shaved her legs. She told me she couldn't believe how smooth they felt. It seemed so grown up. So, of course I couldn't wait to shave my legs too!
In the afternoons we practiced drawing for hours, listened to our favorites songs on repeat and quoted movie lines together. No one knew me better than my twin sister.
And because we were always grouped together, I compared myself to her.
I noticed that her hair was a little curlier, her teeth were a little straighter and her grades were a little higher.
Of course, I didn't keep a literal list of our differences, but I kept a list in my head. And I worried that I wasn't as special as she was. I knew I was loved, but a question kept nagging at me, was I as good as my twin sister? As I compared myself to her, I wasn't certain.
One day I realized something simple but life changing. Maybe I had always known it, but I understood it for the first time.
My soul was my own.
I shared many things with my twin sister, clothes, a bedroom even the same blue eyes–but my soul was mine. It was created by a loving God, just for me.
My soul made me, ME!
I didn't need to compare myself to anyone else. I didn't need to have perfect curls or be the best at drawing or make friends as easily as she did. I just needed to see myself the way God sees me. From the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and even my soul, every part of me is fearfully and wonderfully made.
You are amazing, Megan. Just because you're YOU.
Psalm 139:14 {NIV} I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
:angel:
1 Way to Make Easter Everyone's Favorite Holiday {Free Printable}
Mar 21, 2013 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp
I shouldn't have been surprised when the questions came, all these questions rushing like a river searching....
God knew.
He knew how all the kids would ask questions.
All the kids asking questions — wasn't that the prophesy?
"When your children ask their fathers in the time to come...'" (Joshua 4:21).
And He prophesied our answers to all their questions: "And you shall tell your son in that day, saying, 'This is done because of what the LORD did for me... (Exodus 13:8).
Come an eve in early spring, when the trees are budding and the birds nesting high, all the rivers running higher, Jewish children gather around feast tables and they ask the same four age-old questions; questions that answer everything.
Our children ring the old oak farm table and take up the tradition of the quartet of questions.
Keeping "this ordinance in its season from year to year," (Exodus 13:10), I lay the Passover emblems out on the table in the early twilight.
The matzah lies under a linen cloth.
Goblets of juice of the vine flicker in the candle light, sprigs of lush green parsley circle a tray, water drops jewelling leaf tips.
Off to the side, behind the crystal bowls heaped with mashed potatoes and glazed baby carrots, a dish of ground horseradish sits beside a dark, heavy shank bone of lamb. Not our usual fare for a spring evening meal.
Weary and worn from the all-day effort, I have my own questions: Is all this business of keeping Passover unnecessary burden?
Have we knotted the holy day up in redundant encumbrances?
Does this old covenant really have bearing on new covenant living?
Slipping my hand through my husband's, I find answers.
Children pressing in now, anxious for just this, this tradition, this meal before candles, this sipping of goblets.
"This, this is the best Easter dinner ever! Passover!" a son smiles down the table at me — "No — this is my favorite meal of the whole year!"
And the questions now trickle, the same four questions that have come rippling down from one generation, to the next, for centuries; from the children of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob....to our children.
Levi, his young voice pitched high but gentle, asks the first of the three-thousand-year-old queries:
"Why are we eating unleavened bread, or matzah, tonight?"
I pick up the matzah, a flat cracker of bread, striped with narrow lines, and pierced with small holes.
And I answer in the only way I know how, "Because tonight we remember Jesus. By whose stripes we are healed. Yeast leavens, or puffs up, as pride and sin inflates our hearts. Tonight we eat unleavened bread, bread without yeast, to remember Jesus who was without sin."
I break the matzah in half and whisper, "Just like He was broken for us."
These are questions to know where we come from.
Hope comes next, slender fingers reaching out towards the horseradish, face contorted in slight grimace,
"Why are we eating bitter herbs?"
Lifting a small, silver spoonful of horseradish, I trace time's prints back.
"For on that long ago night, that night of Passover for the children of Israel, God said that 'bitter herbs they shall eat' (Ex. 12:8) and so we do too. To remember the bitterness of the cruel slavery of the Israelites to Pharaoh, to recall the bitterness of our ugly bondage to sin."
My husband breaks off a corner of the matzah, topping it with the spoonful of horseradish and offers it to Hope.
"But we eat the bitter herbs with the matzah to remember how Jesus, our Bread of Life, has paid the price and absorbed our bitter sins."
This is the telling of the story that answers the human heart's pleas... and prayers.
Joshua, he's got his question memorized, him joining with children around the world, asking the third question on this night of four questions,
"Why tonight do we dip our herbs twice?"
Picking up the evergreen parsley, I close my eyes to see the answer. My husband speaks quiet. "Our fathers dipped hyssop branches into the blood of the Passover lamb and marked their doorposts." It's tradition now, to pass down this story.
He dips a parsley sprig into the salt water and continues. "As they wept salty tears for their life of slavery, they painted the door lintels with the blood, that the Angel of Death may pass over. For without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins."
He dips the parsley again, this time into a small glass dish of apple and raisins.
"But now we have hope. Because of the blood shed by the thorns piercing Jesus' brow. Because of the blood from the wounds of the nails, that we, in faith, mark on the door of our hearts. Now we wipe away our tears, for we have new life in Christ. We have been rebirthed into His hope."
All around the table, you can see it in their eyes — this relief. I can feel my own.
Caleb, pensive eldest, leans his head on his hand and serves the crowning question:
"Why are we eating this meal reclining?"
I lean into the climax of the story and the traditional answer, it never gets old.
"Because our Passover Lamb has bought our freedom.
"Tonight we remember that we are no longer slaves, but children of the very King of Kings. Free men, royalty, recline while eating. So, as Jesus who reclined at the Last Supper, we too lean back this night, for we are free to come before God who is upon the Throne."
We raise glasses and toast. And there's the answer as to why we keep Passover.
Keeping Passover isn't about keeping laws and regulations.
Keeping Passover isn't about keeping our burdens.
Keeping Passover isn't about keeping some empty, meaningless customs.
On the night of four questions, the answer murmur clear in the stream of time: Keeping Passover is about keeping our way on The Way.
Passover is about keeping something worth preserving: emblems pregnant with the fulfillment of the New Covenant.
Passover is about the questions that keep time to the beat of our children's heart:
Why am I here?
What does all of this living really mean?
Where am I headed?
When will I be all that I am to be?
And this story, His story, His three-thousand-year-old Passover story has answers, told on a quiet evening in spring when the trees are budding under nesting birds.
When all the rivers run alive and swift and on forever, free...::
To Set a Table for a Christian Passover:
1. matzah (or Wholewheat Unleavened Bread)
2. juice of the vine (wine, grape juice, non-alcoholic wine)
3. sprigs of lush green parsley
4. horseradish (bitter herbs)
5. chopped apples and raisins (called haroset)
6. heavy shank bone of lamb
7. boiled egg
8. small dish of salted water
Menu:
Roast Leg of Lamb with Rosemary
Balsamic Roasted Red Potatoes
Baked Asparagus with Balsamic Butter Sauce
Haroset (Chopped Apples & Raisins) for Passover
Wholewheat Unleavened Bread
Baby carrots
And for dessert: New Life
{Free Christian Passover Meal Printable}
Including Menu, Passover Table Setting List and Program with Four Questions with Life Answers {A Messianic Seder}
Sample Pages:
:angel: :angel:
Mary vs. Martha
Mar 21, 2013 01:10 am | Emily Simmons
When I was young, my family always went out to a restaurant for Sunday lunch with my grandparents. Every week without fail my sister and I would be asked The Inevitable Question: "What did you learn in Sunday School today?"
Being smart kids, we knew to prepare a concise, one-sentence answer that would convince the adults that we listened attentively instead of eating our animal crackers in creative ways or passing notes to the cute boys.
On one particular Sunday, my little sister had her answer at the ready. She responded to The Inevitable Question cherubically: "We learned about Mary and Martha and how Mary was better because she wanted to spend time with Jesus."
And that started it.
My grandmother slapped her hand on the table exclaimed rather vehemently, "I hate that story! Let me tell you, sitting at the feet of Jesus is all well and good, but if it wasn't for the Marthas of us in this world, nothing would ever get done."
Giving a regal glance around the table and being satisfied that her point was well made, she went back to eating her lunch. We passed mystified, slightly amused looks around the table and followed suit.
Mary and Martha. Causing family disputes since the New Testament.
I imagine the story of Mary and Martha playing out in Real Housewives of Bethany style:
In her expansive kitchen, Martha is toiling over platters of appetizers laid out on granite countertops. Delectable, mouth-watering scents fill the air. Every garnish is impeccable. Flour dots her designer apron, but not a hair of her perfect coiffure is out of place. Her makeup is flawless. Her frown lines are the only thing that mar this picture of domestic diva bliss.
"Where is my sister? I can't believe she left me to host a house full of guests on my own. The nerve of that woman."
Lifting a lovely platter, she glides on designer heels across marble floors into the formal living room and surveys the scene in front of her. Jesus, her charismatic family friend, sits at the center. Arrayed around him, hanging on every word he says, are his entourage. And there, sitting by his dirty sandals, is Mary.
Martha's do-nothing, flighty, irresponsible sister is sitting there without a care in the world. She never even notices Martha enter. In fact, no one does. The savory smells wafting from her tray of heavenly delights have no effect on any of the ungrateful souls in the room.
Miffed, Martha clears her throat. "Jesus, this is so unfair! These mini-quiches don't cook themselves, you know. Mary's just sitting here while I do all the work in the kitchen! Tell her to come help me."
If the Bible was Real Housewives, Mary and Martha might have an all-out girl fight with name-calling and hair-pulling and shoe-throwing.
But this isn't Real Housewives. Jesus isn't into reality TV antics. He answers Martha gently, compassionately.
"Martha, dear Martha, you're fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it..."
Luke 10:41b-42a MSG
Can you see yourself in Martha? Have you heard yourself saying something like this:
I'd love to spend more time with Jesus, but I have to get one more thing marked off my To Do List.
If I want it done the right way I might as well do it myself.
No one appreciates everything I do around here.
Now, I'm not hating on Martha. In fact, I agree with my grandmother. We need Marthas in this world. If not for the Marthas, who would make iced tea and finger sandwiches? Organize church potlucks? Pick out curtains? Make sure the nativity is just right?
Jesus wasn't telling Martha to stop being a good hostess or neglect her responsibilities. He wasn't belittling the things that were important to her. He was telling her keep her priorities in order.
Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.
Matthew 6:33 NLT
If your life has left you holding a platter of under-appreciated mini-quiches in a room full of ungrateful people, if you have gotten so caught up in making the perfect party for Jesus that you forgot who you were celebrating, then these words are for you:
Dear friend, you are getting yourself worked up over nothing. Seek God first because time resting and receiving at His feet is never wasted. He will give you everything you need.
Did you hear that? Not just some things. Not just a little bit or halfway.
Everything. Everything you need.
What do you need, Martha?
By Emily Simmons, Emily Says
:angel:
The During
Mar 22, 2013 01:20 am | The Nester
As a home blogger most of my job is sharing the mess.
People mistakenly think that our blogs are a bunch of reveals complete with beauty shots. But I've been blogging for over 5 years. Let's say I have 10 rooms in my house. That means I'd have to redo a room every few days in order to have enough freshly finished rooms to talk about. Most of what I write about is the stuff in the process.
At first I hated that part.
Most of us don't mind showing an ugly before with the past owner's furniture and purple walls before we moved in, and then we want to show a pretty after that compared to the before wows and impresses. KaPow! Ta-Da!
I'm learning that the biggest, best and most informative part of the story happens in the during. When the mattress is on the floor and the wall color isn't quite right and there are paper streamers hanging because you are the most indecisive person on the planet. More and more I see value in sharing the how and why of my decisions, and the mistakes I've made along the way. It's the best way to connect with people.
It's the same with life. The real story happens in the mundane every-day-ness and our reactions to our imperfect world and our response to a perfect God.
I'm so grateful for people who have been willing to share their imperfect, right-now life; the good, the bad and the ugly. I look at the world through house colored glasses and this house full of half finished rooms reminds me that I can't wait to live until it's all ready for its closeup.
Because that won't happen for a long time.
:angel:
Golden Girl
Mar 23, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
"This fiftieth year is sacred—it is a time of freedom and of celebration..."
~ Leviticus 25:10a (CEV)
If how I was feeling the morning of January 1st was any indication, this was going to be an interesting year.
As I blinked my eyes open through a haze of dreams, sleepily, happily I mentally replayed the night before: In a beautiful display of passion, persistence and sportsmanship, my college alma mater had pulled out a stunning end-of-game bowl victory to usher in the happiest of new years for their fans.
"It's a new year...." A cheerful thought shape-shifting like mercury; what started as a smile was quickly extinguished by the fire in my knee. Due to an ARE-YOU-KIDDING-ME? temporarily debilitating injury, my room might as well have been at Everest's peak. I was alone in our guestroom, the only bedroom downstairs.
Now wide awake but resisting morning's nudge, my good cheer was buried under Reality's avalanche:
I was born in 1963 and 2013 is the year I turn 50.
* * *
If you've been reading (in)courage awhile, you might remember when I wrote about The Year of Living Dangerously. My husband had accepted a new job that would require us to live in Germany for most of 2012 and my One Word to mark the year was adventure. We packed our bags leaving family, familiarity and comfort zone behind in exchange for living (and for my husband, working) in a new culture and traveling to places we had previously only seen in pictures or read about in books.
It was grand adventure but we never saw it coming, how it would end:
Delays in construction at the plant back home, for us, meant an additional two-year commitment abroad. For a host of personal reasons, that wasn't acceptable.
My husband and I concluded the best option for our family was for him to resign his position a month before Christmas, arguably the worst month of the year to job hunt.
December was a blur.
* * *
I have trudged the past several months, at times wandering in a darkness to which I'm not accustomed.
It is my nature to see bright sides and silver linings and half full glasses.
It hasn't been just one thing, it's been one thing after another; little things that exacerbate circumstance and compound the big things.
Never before have I been concerned about my age; aware, maybe, but not concerned. My 40s have been the season of finding comfort in my skin, giving up my need to please others and discovering the ways God loves me in spite of myself.
Also, my mother died when she was 38 after a five-year battle with cancer. Uncontainable is my gratitude to God for the 12 years I've already lived beyond her lifespan, not only because I'm thankful for life, but more so because I've gotten to know and love and be with my children for 12 years longer than she did!
But despite all of that, on January 1st turning 50 started messing with my head somethin' fierce. To add insult to injury, my doctor's office called with news I suspected but still found shocking.
* * *
In the midst of all this, there was a prompting in my spirit to search for something in Scripture I had read before but to which I hadn't attached personal significance: an Old Testament passage dealing with the "Year of Jubilee". In it, there's instruction to be followed every 50 years: "...when everyone will receive back their original property, and slaves will return home to their families". But here's what reached out and grabbed my heart with both hands–
"This fiftieth year is sacred—it is a time of freedom and of celebration..."
I read it again and again and again, and I might've added a thousand exclamation points.
Sometimes God delivers an Ancient Word exactly when a 21st century girl needs to hear it.
* * *
Seeking God in the midst of despair recalibrated my perspective.
I became Peter walking on water to Jesus, but not before first bobbing under wind and wave.
Truth I knew in my head shifted back to my heart.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 -
one of my favorite passages of scripture,
one of the wisest encouragements regarding life,
one of the most beautiful poems throughout the ages,
came alive in light of my Year of Jubilee revelation–
Now is the time to laugh!
Now is the time to dance!
Now is the time embrace!
Now is the time to seek and keep and speak!
All of life is sacred, yes, but 50...the 50th year...is set apart. There's freedom in this age. There's cause for celebration.
These past several months have been challenging and, at times, even defeating. But I know...I believe...God is accomplishing a Kingdom work in and through them, whether for my good or his glory or both. My experiences, especially the hard times, grow empathy and compassion in a way good times never could, better enabling me to minister to others who find themselves in similar situations down the road.
God redeems the broken into a thing of beauty.
Can anyone relate? Has a milestone birthday ever rattled you from the inside out? Has a challenging life season threatened spiritual, emotional or even physical defeat? How were you reminded of God's faithfulness–maybe in scripture, a song, sermon or ???
* * * * *
It might be my birthday, but I'm giving YOU the gifts!! A few of my favorite friends are providing a week of FANTASTIC giveaways; click over for details (plus, my blog has a new look I'd love for you to see!).
❤,
Robin Dance
:angel:
Many people spread their cloaks on the road,
while others spread branches they had cut in the fields.
Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted,
Hosanna!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!
Mark 11:8-10
:angel:
Capitol City
Mar 25, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
My friend Matt asked, on twitter, for his fans to list their favorite song of his. As a singer/songwriter with a deep well of albums, the replies began to fly in.
As a fan and a friend, my mind immediately swirled back to a few years ago, when I was deciding about moving to Nashville, and I thought of the last song from his 2006 album.
That song entered my life in a season that felt very unsafe and unknown. I was leaving my hometown alone, heading to a place I did not know full of people I did not know, and I didn't want to do it. But I knew it was the right thing, the God thing, even if it meant going alone.
No matter where I turned, God sang His reassurances to me. It wasn't always on Christian radio, in fact- it rarely was. It was at obscure concerts in downtown Atlanta and quiet crooning from indie albums. It was radio commercials and worship songs and love songs and CDs that friends handed me on a whim. God was everywhere I didn't expect to hear Him.
Matt's song, Capitol City, is the one that has long been my favorite and was, to be dramatic and over-emotional, the song that felt like a life-preserver when the waves of doubt and worry and loneliness felt like I would drown.
I heard God in it.
"As you go your own way.... remember do not be afraid...
cause you're right where you should be.... in Capitol City."
I cried when I played it, and I played it a lot those last few weeks in Atlanta and those first few months in Nashville. I heard God say that He was right with me, that He would show His nearness whenever I needed Him to, that I did not need to be afraid.
If anything has been proven true in the last five years, it is this. Nashville is right where I should be. But I shouldn't be surprised – God told me that a long time ago.
Music does that. Lyrics have that kind of power, don't they? No matter what they are written for or who it is about, when God wants to get a message across, He does it. And it can rescue us, heal us, carry us.
What songs has God unexpectedly used to speak to you?
. . . . .
By Annie Downs
:angel:
Where To Look When You Can't Find God
Mar 26, 2013 01:10 am | Jennifer Mays
Time has been a gracious friend to my grandmother. Generous and forgiving, it has given her much and asked for little in return. Her age is nothing more to her than an adornment, and she wears it like a strand of family heirloom pearls, with the grace and charm of the true Southern lady that she is. The passing of time has served only to make her more beautiful, and she has become the irreplaceable jewel of our family.
I came through the back door of her house that afternoon thinking of this passing of time – how it sneaks in unseen and sends the days tumbling, rolling them together into months that stretch out to the horizon of a life in the blink of an eye. I knew it had been too long since my last visit.
She was standing there at the stove, hovering over a pot steaming with the promise of comfort, and spooning up the memories of my childhood. She turned to me then, and her eyes lit up as she offered me her generous smile, one of her sweetest gifts. And she laughed for the sake of joy, wrapping me in arms that had raised up four daughters and six grandchildren, and still were able to lift the fair haired toddler behind me.
My grandmother's laugh is wonderfully infectious, so we laugh together just from the joy of our embrace, and in her arms I am a child again. Her voice is soft and sweet as she whispers her promise that she'll never let anything happen to me, that I am her love and her littlest angel. She holds me there, the woman I am now, the wife, the mother, her granddaughter, and she smoothes my hair and strokes my back and I think of what she's just said, about how she loves me. And it comes to me then...the revelation for which I had searched, the answer to the question I had asked of God as He and I had walked together over the years.
I had so often wondered where God had been during the troubled years of my childhood, when the burdens were almost too much for me to bear and the hefty weight of adult problems were laid upon my shoulders at too young of an age. When the foundation of my youth had crumpled beneath me and lay in the collapse of my parent's marriage. When money was scarce and worries were abundant. When the sharp tongue of middle school girls sliced through the thin layer of my self-esteem, leaving fresh wounds and a broken heart. Surely God had been with me, but I had turned over the memories of my youth and I couldn't find him.
I found my answer that very day, as my grandmother's arms circled around me and my head rested against her. In the painful days of my childhood, the voice of God bore the rich southern drawl of the Mississippi Delta as He spoke words of love and encouragement, and planted the seeds of hope and faith. He bound up my broken heart with hands that were soft and warm, with fingers knotted from arthritis. He gently wiped my tears and held my face in His hands, and His gaze was filled with love and acceptance as He looked upon me through eyes creased with 60 years of laughter and burdens. He lifted me up and held me close as He whispered His promise that He would never let anything happen to me, that I was His love and His littlest angel.
The warmth of remembrance covered me like a thick quilt, and I felt God's hand upon me smoothing my hair and stroking my back. My soul filled with thanksgiving for the God who has never forsaken me, and His grace flooded my memories, washing over them and filling up the empty places. My eyes filled with tears as I drew back to gaze on the loveliness of this woman, the vessel through which God had comforted me. And in her face I saw it – a glimpse of God Himself.
By Jennifer Mays, At Jesus' Feet
:angel:
Beyond Locked Doors: Jesus, Where I Can Hide?
Mar 27, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
"Before the river runs away, I find the shelter in Your Name. Jesus."
~ Fernando Ortega in "Sleepless Night"
I remember what if felt like to be a little girl.
Sitting at the table of my desk.
Writing hard into the pages of my journal.
Because there was no other place for me to be.
No other place to hear my thoughts and seek some sort of answer in the silence. My heart poured out in ink — like the first waters of spring trickling down through moss, rock, and dirt as you walk by and notice the trail is suddenly moist and soft.
I know now, that the door that closed me in the darkness of my bedroom wasn't the only door that shut me into my aloneness.
The door of my heart was where I hid behind, where I placed all my anxious thoughts and concealed them deep within.
So, that I could step out into this world with brightness, to smile, explore and find my way.
I needed a place to put away the things that felt childish, needy, and wanting.
I was ready to grow up, to find my place in this world.
I believed that was where Jesus wanted me.
Out there, somewhere, I believed Jesus was calling me –
to leave who I was,
so I could become who He wanted me to be.
But, now I'm hearing a different Voice speaking beside me.
Before The Red Sun Rises
I'm still here, Bonnie.
I haven't left you alone.
I remember you.
His voice is very still.
Very quiet.
But, I know it is Him.
Because I feel my heart flutter an aching dip — deep in a place where only His voice can reach.
My lips begin to quiver and I say His name.
Jesus.
I close my eyes, and a sleepless night clings to me yet again.
Long before the red sun rises.*
Even though Easter is this very week.
I feel the guilt of how I am not feeling the freedom that I know is wholly mine.
Jesus.
Don't let me hide any longer.
Jesus.
Help me find my full voice. I'm so afraid.
Because it is hidden behind closed doors.
Life On The Other Side
I get up, bare feet cold against the kitchen floor. I warm up a bowl of soup.
I sip and sit, the steam rising from my spoon, illuminated by the low lights turned on over the sink.
I begin to type, journaling onto a glowing screen, as I don't know what else to do.
And as I do, I feel so very lonely there in the dark.
And in that very moment, when I'm slipping into the rush of my worries, a thought takes me to a scene with the disciples.
They are locked in room.
They cannot sleep either.
Unable to fathom what life would look like on the other side of the door.
They are afraid.
Feeling trapped.
Guilty.
At a loss for words.
Yet, their hearts and minds were overrun by questions of now-what, what-if, how, when, who and why.
But, still, there is no easy way out.
Even though Peter and John had both seen the linens discarded in the tomb. They too had retreated behind closed doors.
Without clarity.
They've never gone this way before.
They were so sure, so confident of the way Jesus was leading them.
Now, uncertainty is all that seems to consumes them.
So unexpected.
So all alone.
How Jesus Comes
This is how He comes to them.
Jesus comes to them — not just behind closed doors.
The doors were locked.
This is how I imagine Jesus came and quietly stood beside them.
With eyes of compassion and a heart bursting to touch them, Jesus whispers — "Peace to you!"
And what was the first thing Jesus does?
Jesus shows them his hands and his side.
Jesus shows them his wounds.
I don't know why I did what I did next, exactly. But, I felt moved to get off my chair.
I knelt on the floor.
With the taste of soup still swimming in my mouth, I press my face into the palms of my hands.
And I begin to cry.
I imagine Jesus right there in front of me.
Bending, crouching over me.
As I show him my wounds.
And I cry and I cry, as waves of memory upon memory push through my heart.
Each time I'd stop because I wanted to go back to hiding my heart, I'd picture Jesus again.
Showing me his wounds.
On His hands.
And His side.
And the tears would begin again.
Because I would remember what I've forgotten –
how much I longed for the touch of His hands on mine,
how much I'd give anything to be pressed into His side,
so I could feel the weight of His robes and His arms around me then.
Where We Can Hide
After some time there, I needed to get up and find the Kleenex.
I know Jesus came to me that night, as He once did 2,000 years ago.
And I am so grateful.
Because He continues to come to me now.
Even through locked doors.
Jesus knows how to enter. Even if I don't.
Jesus is the name I can call on.
Jesus is my hope through the storm.
Jesus.
He is the shelter — where I can hide.
And you can too.
"On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together,
with the doors locked for fear...
Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you!"'
After he said this, he showed them his hands and side."
~ John 20:19-20a
~~~~~
How is Jesus coming to you this Easter?
Where are you when you call on His Name?
Where is that you hide — when you think the door is closed — and Jesus comes to you?
Is it a song, a place, a time or are you walking, writing, painting or singing?
Pull up a chair. Click to comment. Take a moment to share. In doing so, Jesus comes alive.
Easter in us — in me and in you. Jesus in us. Right here. Right now.
~~~~~
* A lyric taken from "Sleepless Night" by Fernando Ortega. Click to listen.
By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
Join Bonnie and faith friends on her blog, Faith Barista , as she continues her journey through post-traumatic stress, as they travel the journey of faith together, swapping stories one moment at a time.
:angel:
On Seeing the Good in Good Friday
Mar 29, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne
For so many years I wondered why Good Friday was named as such. I couldn't really wrap my brain around what was so good about it. I felt terrible every single time I would see a Cross re-enactment play. I would make it so real in my mind, and it was so hard to watch. I would sob seeing Jesus go through what he went through. I kept asking myself: Why were we calling the death of Jesus "good"?
Growing up I attended various Good Friday church services where the mood was so very solemn. Sad, mournful and full of regret, I would walk with my head down to my seat in the pew. And I get that sentiment, I really do. I understand the sacrifice was because of (my) sin. I've been taught all the horrible things Jesus had to endure before his death.
But I don't hang my head anymore. Now I know why Good Friday is so very, very good.
From the beginning of time, God knew what was going to happen. He prepared a way. He poured himself into flesh as the solution for all of it. We know all this already, right?
But what I think is sometimes missing from the Good Friday services, is that one simple phrase:
"It is finished."
When Jesus became the atonement, it was all done. All that was yet left undone, became done. His death was the trigger, the catalyst, for these cataclysmic events to come. The resurrection, pentecost, the Lord's return. Once that death happened, everything else was done in God's eyes. It began our call to Kingdom and to looking forward.
He wanted us to look ahead to his resurrection. He wanted us to look ahead to his return. He made it all complete, and there was no need to feel incomplete ever again.
Death no longer has victory over our souls, because it is finished.
Sin no longer is what we are painted with when God looks at us, because it is finished.
I don't have to walk in shame or feel anything but a daughter of the Most High God, because it is finished.
You who walk in the shadows, come forth, because it is finished. The Enemy may try to influence me and you, to sway us, but he can never win. Never.
I don't feel sad on Good Friday anymore. I humbly receive the Lord's gift with gratitude, stand looking high in awe and wonder. At the deep meaning of his death being so innocent, so holy and so pure that it covered every human ever.
Even me. Especially me. Especially you.
He is risen!
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Special Easter Traditions
Mar 30, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
As dogwoods bloom, tulips tip their hand, and cluttered closets are cleaned, I'm reminded that spring is in the air. With the windows cracked open allowing the sacred sounds of robins whistling in their newly formed nest, I'm invited to wonder.
Spring announces birth, renewal, and fresh beginnings. And with this month of April, it also rings a month to cry, "He is Risen Indeed."
With five children in the house, tying in special traditions to our beloved Easter holiday plays an critical role. Traditions are an important part of our family tapestry, and I share a plethora of last minute Easter ideas at my blog. Sometimes, they are deeply meaningful, filled with profound spiritual applications, and other times they are just fun. Many include great food.
These Easter Resurrection Rolls are a sweet combination of both.
This easy, hands-on, delicious recipe not only allows for a special treat, but it also opens the door to unique avenues of discussion with the younger ones. Remember the wonder that I desire to welcome in this spring?
Well, who would have ever thought it could take place through crescent rolls and marshmallows. This recipe is perfect for the youngsters, but also the young at heart.
Share the truth of how Jesus was placed into the tomb (crescent rolls), and then explain how they prepared his body by putting oil and herbs on him (cinnamon and sugar). After waiting three long day (or twelve minutes, which feels like days to the children), we know that death could not hold Him in the grave, and He was alive.
The tomb is empty! He is risen. He is Risen Indeed.
Resurrection Rolls
Ingredients
1 (10 ounce) can refrigerated crescent dinner rolls (or even better, homemade Butterhorn dough.)
8 large marshmallows
1/4 cup melted butter
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon
2 tablespoons white sugar
Directions
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F on lightly grease a baking sheet.
Separate crescent rolls into individual triangles.
In a small bowl, mix together cinnamon and sugar.
Dip a marshmallow into melted butter, then roll in sugar mixture. Place marshmallow into the center of a dough triangle. Carefully wrap the dough around the marshmallow. Pinch the seams together very, very tightly to seal in the marshmallow as it melts. Place on a baking sheet. Repeat.
Bake in a preheated oven until golden brown, about 15 minutes.
Makes Eight Resurrection Rolls
** I have made these without dipping them in any butter, cinnamon/sugar mixture and they are still delicious. The butter just makes them an extra special treat.
Make sure you seal the seams very well. If you don't, the marshmallow will ooze out the sides, which is just fine in our home. You have the option of making the rolls bigger by using two crescent rolls, but still use just one marshmallow. This way, the marshmallow won't come out at all. Have the kids play around with making these. On some of them, we wanted the empty tomb effect, so we left a small portion of the roll open but made sure the side had a little lip to contain the melted mallow.
What special traditions does your family celebrate at Easter?
By Jen, who is in constant pursuit of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam (while making her 10 Minute Dinners.)
This post is one of our favorites we wanted to share with you again. It was originally published at (in)courage in April 2011.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture for Easter
Mar 31, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.
There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."
So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.
Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."
Matthew 28:1-10
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed!
Praying you have a joyous Easter Sunday,
celebrating the miracle and the gift of Jesus Christ's death and resurrection.
Love,
The (in)courage team
:angel:
Freedom In Community
Apr 01, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
Last month I made a big-time confession on my own blog.
I was honest with my community about some large scale problems going on right now within my marriage. Right now. Not nine years ago or in our first years of it all. Right now.
What's different about what I was able to share in my online space and others is that I'm already living in a post-crisis, fully-redeemed marriage. Just click on my (in)courage bio right there at the end. I'm sure it will say something about that.
I'm living in what is supposed to be
healed space
mended wounds
and a restored life.
But what I found that I was actually living in for the past two years is a marriage full of anger and resentment, bitterness, selfishness and pain. It's gotten very bad and we have let it come to this together.
I've been terrified (read, absolutely petrified) to be open to anyone about this (including my own very best friends) for fear that all that I'd worked for would be lost. I've written a long time and spoken for several years about how to have a restored marriage and mine is imploding as we speak. I was worried what everyone would think and would we still have any friends at the end of this?
Those of you who are in any way recovered from any kind of addiction or bad-choice behavior know exactly what I'm talking about. We are scared to continue to fail. We are scared to be open about our real-world journeys because we should be better than that. We are scared to tell people we go to therapy (or we need to go) because we are afraid of the stigma. We are worried that those that have given us grace in the past will somehow run out and look at us with compassion-less eyes.
These are real fears.
But here's why we have to be honest. Because we need to be free. And Jesus came to give us freedom.
Even if it is something that maybe we should know better about or maybe from the outside it sure looks like we have it all together, we must live in such a way that we have women and friends around us who aren't afraid of our worst. We must live in an honest way where we can be transparent about our struggles. When we have this we have freedom.
We cannot perpetuate a community culture or a church culture that punishes the honest. Think of it this way. If I wonder if one of my school-aged daughters is lying to me, the conversation becomes less about WHAT they are potentially lying about and more about the actual dishonesty itself. "Please tell me the truth." I say to them as we sit together. "And I will not punish you for what it is you are lying about."
And the truth comes out.
Being a community that invites honesty is one of the most important things I think we can be to one another. A hand is held out to help rather than slap when a confession is made. The arm is given to hold around someone's waist rather than to push the person away.
When I was honest with my community, it was easier to be honest with myself. And it was easier to begin writing with a freer hand. My community embraced me and wept for me and prayed with me and because of that I now feel much more able to be
mended
restored and
healed.
What about you? How has honesty made you free? Do you feel like you should keep it all together because that is what others expect from you?
:angel: :angel:
The long walk (and a book giveaway!)
Apr 01, 2013 01:10 am | Melanie
Melanie Shankle lives in San Antonio, Texas with her husband, Perry, and daughter, Caroline. She graduated from Texas A&M in 1994 while possibly on scholastic probation. Melanie began blogging in July 2006 when she started her blog, Big Mama. She's also a regular contributor to The Pioneer Woman. In her spare time she likes to shop good sales, watch too much television and laugh at things that are sometimes inappropriate. Her first book, Sparkly Green Earrings, was released in February 2013.
*********
The first book I ever fell in love with was On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I couldn't get enough of it and, to this day, I vividly remember the story of Laura luring Nellie into the part of the creek where she knew there were leeches. It fascinated me. I'm not sure what that says about my personality but let's not examine it too closely.
That book began my love affair with words. I spent most of my childhood under the covers with a flashlight reading Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume and Noel Streatfeild (Ballet Shoes, anyone?) and anything else I could get my hands on.
And something inside me knew I wanted to do what those writers did. String words together and tell stories in an attempt to make people laugh or cry. But no one really walks around proclaiming, "I want to be an author!" It's the equivalent of saying, "I'd like to be really poor and frustrated for the rest of my life as I receive multiple rejection letters!"
So I got a nice sensible sales job after I graduated for college and tucked away notebooks full of angst-filled poetry and short stories that I never showed anyone.
But, lo, technology progressed and the wonder that is the internet was created. Which led to the advent of a thing called a blog. Maybe you've heard of those.
I began to write again. Mainly to capture memories of my daughter's toddler years that were going by at a speed that would make a freight train envious and left me wondering where my baby had gone. Then, after years and years of recording a lot of stories about potty-training and pacifiers and poop, a book was born. The whole story is too long to tell because you would be all WRAP IT UP, NANCY but there was a moment in the whole process of writing Sparkly Green Earrings that I will never forget as long as I live.
About a week before we sent out the proposal, I was talking to my agent on the phone. It was mid-August and my daughter, Caroline, was sitting in the back seat, waiting on me to finish my conversation so we could go into Subway and order some truly mediocre sandwiches with too much mayonnaise and lettuce that is sketchy at best and e.coli tainted at worst.
After I hung up the phone I said, "Babe, thanks for being so patient. That was an important call about the book."
"Mama?"
"What, sweetie?"
"It has taken you a really long time to write a book."
Since I'm never one to miss a teachable moment outside of Subway, I replied "Yes it has. But you know what? Sometimes in life the things we have to wait on the longest or work the hardest for turn out to be the sweetest things in the end."
And then she said something that I know was God speaking through her right to my heart.
"Mama? Sometimes we have to walk to our future even when it feels like we want to run."
It was all I could do to not break down and cry right then. Because it has been a journey and the book has been a dream I've had somewhere deep down since all those nights I stayed up too late soaking up the words of Judy Blume with a flashlight.
The proposal went out about a week later and I held my breath and told myself it didn't matter one way or the other, that I had done what I felt like God had called me to do and the rest was up to Him. Honestly, I half-expected that maybe someone would offer to let me pay them $10 to get it bound at Kinko's and sell it out of their garage.
But that's not what happened. And after much writing and editing and rocking back and forth weeping and sleepless nights, my memoir about motherhood and God and life, Sparkly Green Earrings, became a reality and a tangible reminder for me that not only does God put things in our heart, he brings them to pass.
*I am so excited to be giving away TWO copies of Sparkly Green Earrings today.
For a chance to win a copy, please leave a comment. I'd love to know what your favorite books were when you were young.
You can purchase a copy here.
To find out more you can visit my book page here.
And for the book trailer, please click here, or watch below.
Sparkly Green Earrings Trailer
By: Melanie, Big Mama
:angel: :angel:
You Have Permission to be in Process
Apr 03, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
photo by Carey Bailey
You are not who you were yesterday,
You are not who you will be tomorrow.
You're in the middle of the beautiful process of becoming.
We fight that as women, don't we? We tell ourselves we have to be it all, do it all, know it all now. We deny ourselves permission to learn. And when we can't learn, we can't grow.
I thought about this recently as I stood in the curtain section of TJ Maxx saying these words over and over to myself: You're learning to decorate your house. You're learning to decorate your house.
Doesn't that sound silly? But it was much better than what I said over and over last time: You can't decorate your house. What's the matter with you?
I thought, somehow, that being born a woman should automatically give me the ability to know if the sheer or heavy curtains would look better, which color they should be, and how every shade of light would look coming through them. And when I didn't, I felt like a failure. I've had similar experiences in the photo frame aisle of target, in the bedding section of a department store, in the cutest little home decor shop you've ever seen.
I share this example because it's amazing how small a crack shame needs to slip through in our lives. When did we decide to judge ourselves on everything from our ability to pick curtains to how good a parent we are compared to the mom next to us?
God doesn't judge us that way. He knows "All people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field" {1 Pt. 1:24}. I used to read that verse as simply meaning life is brief. But I'm seeing it with new eyes lately. And I think what God is also reminding us of here is that grass is growing, flowers are growing, WE are growing.
Which means he knows that from our first breath to our last, we are in process. And that applies to everything from picking out curtains to becoming who He's created us to be.
And you know what? God's okay with that. He already knows us better than we know ourselves. And if He's okay with it, then we can be too. He doesn't ask us for perfection. Just growth. Every day, a little bit at a time, all the way until we're Home with Him.
You are not who you were yesterday,
You are not who you will be tomorrow.
You're in the middle of the beautiful process of becoming.
–Holley Gerth is the author of the new book You're Made for a God-sized Dream: Opening the Door to All God Has for You
:angel:
When You Don't Know How To Wait
Apr 09, 2013 01:10 am | Ashley Larkin
The wind rushes the length of my street, stirs the shiny green leaves of the laurel and the delicate red-tinged crabapple, setting berries to shimmy like dangly earrings.
The wind brushes between my socks and the hem of my pants, cues the chimes to play.
I know the wind is real, but I believe in it fresh when I see it and behold evidence that it's moving.
Many years ago in a nearly empty café, I wrote line after painful line, stomach churning over my inability to express myself the way I desired. That day God spoke to me through my own pen that I needed to write, and he would take care of the rest.
God stirred.
At the age of 18, God told me I'd marry a wonderful boy. A few months later, the wonderful boy broke up with me.
Six years later, we married.
God moved.
Fifteen years ago, on a college mission trip, I cleaned rooms in a trash-filled, bloodstained single-room occupancy hotel in San Francisco. I felt deep inside the pain of those who lived there, along with an unfathomable peace. I felt the stirring of God's message: he had chosen me for painful work, walking alongside the broken and hurting.
God rushes, God brushes, God speaks, God nudges. Sometimes in the pebbles of everyday circumstances thrown in water, rippling in slow motion circles; other times with rocks placed right here, creating monuments of remembrance that we heard his voice.
But what of the times all seems still, when we don't see or feel God moving. What of these times we wait?
For the promised child? Our mission field? The dreams we barely dare speak?
As I've waited for God to bring to life my heart's dreams – many still unfulfilled – I've been encouraged by David, who waited more than 20 years between his anointing as Israel's king and the day of his rule.
Sometimes waiting is learning to walk faith new. Sometimes waiting is preparing. Sometimes, we don't know the why. Regardless, what might we learn through the example of David?
As David awaited his kingship, he served in small and large ways – whether caring for his father's sheep, playing harp to soothe the troubled King Saul, serving his brothers on the battlefield or slaying the giant, Goliath.
How are you serving? Do you find it hard to remember God blesses not only great acts of valor, but also the everyday small done in love?
As David waited, he submitted to God and trusted in the Lord's timing – though he experienced times of tremendous fear, loneliness and confusion. Even when jealous King Saul sought to kill him, David refused to take the life of the king, believing God knew better. David made significant mistakes along the way, but he returned over and again to his God.
Has opposition from others caused you to lose hope? Are you struggling to make your way back to God? Do you find yourself scheming or mustering strength to bring about his calling?
Lastly, as David waited, he sought God in prayer, proclaiming his goodness. In Psalm 59 (believed to be written during one of Saul's murderous pursuits), David described the Lord as "Protector," "Savior," "Almighty," "Fortress" and "Loving God."
Do you believe God loves you and is mighty to bring about what he desires in your life? What quality of God can you proclaim while you wait?
Today, friends, whether you see winds blow, or whether all seems still, may you experience afresh God's breath as you serve him, seek him and submit to his love that leads.
By Ashley Larkin, Draw Near.
:angel:
Does Someone Need Your Words Today?
Apr 10, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
My son carried two cards to our mailbox today: one for Sister Nat, a sweet lady at church who's experienced great healing with an experimental cancer treatment; the other for Mr. Harold, an older gentleman who works in the office of the church where the kids and I go for classes one day a week.
I often type prayer requests on my phone to remind me of those who need a card in the mail: I hope you feel better soon. I'm sorry for your loss. You have not been forgotten. But in spite of good intentions, sometimes they're never written.
It took Mr. Harold to make me stop and ask: Who might need my words today?
Mr. Harold has quietly battled cancer while sitting behind his desk at the church. One January morning when he wasn't there, we learned he'd suffered a stroke. Tests revealed a malignant brain tumor from a second, more aggressive cancer, which leaves him with a life expectancy of three months to a year; partially blind and unable to walk; and haunted by the question:
Did my life have an impact?
According to Mr. Harold's wife, what he needs most are encouraging stories of how he positively influenced the lives of others. Don't you need that, too? I do.
I knew I would never forget it if I let our busy schedule get in the way of writing a card before it was too late. My 18-year-old son wrote a separate note, telling Mr. Harold how much he enjoyed the afternoon when they sat outside and played guitar together.
The Bible tells us to "rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." (Romans 12:15) The first is easier, but the second is just as necessary.
My husband used to comment if one of the ladies at church had a nice new haircut or dress (don't worry, no jealousy here) and I finally told him, "Don't tell me. Tell them. We all need to hear this." Give sincere compliments when given the opportunity.
"Therefore encourage one another and build each other up . . ." ~ 1 Thessalonians 5:11
Is there someone that you should write or call? A friend who could use a word of encouragement? A post that you haven't written because it's difficult, but you know it would help others?
We need your words.
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel: :angel:
Beyond Ordinary Forgiveness
Apr 10, 2013 01:10 am | Trisha Davis
Trisha Davis loves people. She loves seeing people thrive. She loves seeing others win. It is that love that compels her to speak with honesty and transparency and call others to an extraordinary life.
Trish is an author, speaker and co-founder of RefineUs Ministries. She and her husband Justin blog at refineus.org. Sharing her own story of ministry, marriage, loss and redemption she longs to ignite a movement to build healthy marriages, families and churches.
She and Justin just released their first book, Beyond Ordinary: When a Good Marriage Just Isn't Good Enough.
Trisha and Justin make their home in Nashville, TN with their three boys, Micah, Elijah and Isaiah.
***
Photo Credit
As Justin and I share our story, the affair gets all the attention, but what I have come to realize is that I had a forgiveness issue long before the affair. I had mastered the art of unforgiveness, and felt clueless about what true forgiveness looked like.
One of the questions I always get is, "How did you ever forgive Justin? How in the world could you forgive him after what he did?" It is one of the most important questions you can ask, and one of the most amazing questions we have the honor of answering. After all, ordinary lives in resentment, but extraordinary lives in forgiveness.
Resentment can have such a grip on our hearts that we need to forgive often for our own healing. That is exactly what we realized as we walked through the cycle of forgiveness. Forgiveness is hard.
Grace is unmerited favor, a gift offered with no strings attached. Forgiveness is a gift that flows from grace. In forgiveness, we give up our right to throw our stones in retaliation for the hurt the other has caused us. Forgiveness is only true forgiveness when you forgive regardless of the person's response.
Spouses in extraordinary marriages live in the awareness of the grace and forgiveness given them by the Father. They embrace grief, anger, brokenness, and forgiveness rather than ignore them. They live in the knowledge that forgiveness is a process, not a one-time choice, and that it may take seventy times seven to finally feel reconciled. And they live in the grace to keep that forgiveness flowing.
Maybe you have fought your whole marriage to be right. You don't think your spouse respects you. You don't feel like your husband believes in you. So this resentment you hold on to is your way of proving yourself or of having the upper hand. This anger you keep just under the surface of your heart is a part of you. You wouldn't know who you were without it. Your anger allows you to be in control.
Living in the hurt of the past allows you to brace yourself to deal with the disappointments and hurt in the future. You find your identity in your resentment.
If that's the case, the truth is that there is a part of your heart you are not just withholding from the person you can't forgive. You are withholding that part of your heart from God. And God longs to heal you, to free you, to form you and shape you into the person you were created to be.
Maybe this resentment you've learned to accept has nothing to do with your spouse. You take it out on your spouse, but it isn't really about him or her. Your past hurts have made a home in your marriage and in the process have made your marriage ordinary. You were abused. You were overlooked. You were raped. You were taken advantage of. He broke up with you. He lied to you. Your dad never came back. Your mom never told you she loved you. Your friend abandoned you when you needed her the most.
In reality, you are terrified that if you forgive, you will be admitting defeat. If you forgive, they win. But forgiveness doesn't excuse their behavior. Forgiveness prevents their behavior from destroying your heart. Forgiveness prevents forfeiting your future by not living in your past. Forgiveness prepares you to move from ordinary to extraordinary.
When you forgive, the person who hurt you doesn't win—Christ wins. He wins another part of your heart. When you forgive, you allow Christ to have not only more of your heart but more of your marriage. Where forgiveness lives, intimacy can be restored.
Who do you need to forgive?
Forgiveness leads to healing, healing leads to intimacy, and intimacy leads to extraordinary.
**********
We'd love to share Beyond Ordinary with you.
You can download the Introduction and first two chapters here thanks to Tyndale House Publishers.
You can watch the book trailer here.
You can read some of the endorsements of the book by visiting the Beyond Ordinary site.
You can purchase a copy here.
And for the book trailer, please click here, or watch below.
BeyondOrdinary from RefineUs Ministries on Vimeo.
We are going to be giving away five copies of the book today! Just share below about a time you've extended grace to someone in your life and offered forgiveness.
Taken from Beyond Ordinary by Justin and Trisha Davis. Copyright © 2012 by Justin & Trisha Davis. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved.
:angel: :angel:
The Way Of The Water
Apr 11, 2013 01:10 am | Adrienne
She stands in the ocean waiting for the waves to come. She sees them coming toward her, flipping over as they make their way to the beach. Almost human how much life they have. She waits. Watches. White caps coming. No matter how long she waits for waves and how many times she keeps her head above them, one comes that covers her. Engulfs. Scares. It is stronger than her and deeper than her and its presence is overwhelming. Then her feet begin to find sand and her head feels air above waves, and she knows that this thing that overwhelms is the most magnificent, beautiful, satisfying thing she's encountered.
That is what it was like when she first leaned into Truth. When she first found her Name-Giver. When she first began to believe. And change came. Because that's what Water does. Waves change everything they touch. Sand castles topple. Seashells are found then stolen again as the tide rolls. And not just waves. All water. Rain drops move mounds of dirt, scatter pebbles, shake leaves. These waves and these rain drops remind the woman of how small she really is and keeps her amateur ideas of control in check.
But the waves don't just overwhelm and topple. They set the shore, give life to sea creatures, bring boats home. And the raindrops don't just scatter and shake. They help lilies bloom, create puddles for jumpers, give life to crops.
The Water-Giver does no less. To believe in Christ is to change. To truly commune with Him is to know that we cannot hold onto selfish pride because it will be toppled when we let Him cover us. We must relinquish control, judgments, pain, life.
All must be, in some way, let go. This is the way of the Water. He moves, scatters, shakes. We will stand and be engulfed by Glory. We will feel the breaking apart of everything that is us. Hearts will tremble in awe of I AM. And every day the Water will overwhelm. And every day, the tide will roll out and our eyes will see the life He has given, the life that comes after the Covering. We will see gratitude where selfishness was chipped away. We will see beauty where sin was washed over. We will see courage in the corners where we wanted to hide. Our deep inner thirst will be quenched.
I know this because I was, and still am, the woman standing on the shore, waiting for the one wave that would actually prove itself worthy of my fear, my awe. Worthy of letting it take over in the best way possible. I was the woman twirling in the rain asking to be washed, asking to feel alive. I was the woman at the well asking for life-giving water. And Christ did not only promise to take over, wash, and give life. He promised to give Himself to me. He tells me, lest I forget,
"...the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life" (John 4:14).
The waves and the rain did not only cover, they came in. I opened and the water entered. It soaked the heart that needed it. When I began to believe, He came to dwell in me and the Truth welled up within me to give life and to tell me my name. That's what it was like when I first began to believe. That's what it is every day when I let Him have His way. That is the Way of the Water.
By Adrienne, who knows Grace Has A Way
:angel:
Three Ways to Be Brave When You Feel Like a Wimp
Apr 12, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
Ever feel like you might possibly maybe perhaps have something to offer the world around you but you just can't manage to find the courage you need to open your hands and offer it?
Or open your mouth and say it?
Or pick up your pen and write it?
Or swing wide your door and let them in?
Here are three ways to be brave when you feel like a wimp:
1. Accept your limitations.
What? I thought this post was about being brave!
Look, I'm all about a challenge, about pushing yourself beyond what you thought possible, about defying gravity and all that. But let's pause for a minute and think about our own limitations.
One reason why I often feel like a wimp is because I am painfully aware of my own limits. How can I be brave in this situation when I clearly can't do this, that, or the dreaded other?
I am guilty of thinking being brave means I have to deny my limitations. But like the bumper rails at the bowling alley, my limits can be a gift.
My limitations keep me from getting too far off course and set me free to move into my calling with confidence.
It's important for me to start here, because it can be easy for me to get busy dreaming and starting and changing the world. And there may be nothing wrong with that until I realize I forgot to plan dinner for next week and totally missed a dentist appointment this morning.
I have limited time, resources, and energy. It's true, I don't have a limited God. But that doesn't mean I am to try to become God myself.
God submitted himself to the greatest possible limitation when he came down to earth. Skin? Are you kidding me? Harness the power of the Almighty Creator within the delicate confines of two lungs and capillaries and a digestive system?
Don't despise your limitations. Learn to work within them. Let them be guard rails for the way you spend your time and your energy.
For example, it takes a long time for me to be honest. Not that I lie – I'm not a liar. I just have a delayed response to what is true. I can't always tell in the moment how I feel about something, don't always know right after I read a passage if I agree with it or not.
I admire people with strong opinions. I might even be one of them if I had more time to think about it.
My personal processing time is a limitation, one I have to be honest about. But this can also be a strength. Knowing I need a long time to process means being intentional about getting that time. It forces me to slow down, to consider, to spend time thinking and praying about things. It keeps me dependent on Jesus.
This may not serve me well on a debate team, but that's why I'm not on a debate team. I will also never run for office or do improv comedy.
See how helpful it is to know my own limits?
2. Embrace your giftedness.
God gave the world the gift of Jesus, but he did it through a person.
Mary didn't seem to feel embarrassed or ashamed about this gift, didn't feel the need to explain herself or manufacture some kind of humility. Receiving the gift given to her by God was the most humble thing she could do. Accepting God's favor of her was worship.
She didn't hide out and question his call over her life. Her soul magnified the Lord and her spirit rejoiced. Then she went to Elizabeth's house to share the news.
Let's do as Mary did -
Receive the gift from the hand of God.
Worship.
Share the gift with others.
Mary's willingness to cooperate with God was a choice that ushered life into the world for the rest of us. Jesus was literally within Mary and came out into the world.
And the Spirit of Jesus now lives in you. How might he want to come out?
It's true, you have limits. But it is also true that you have abilities. They aren't from you, but they have your fingerprints. And now Jesus wants to touch the world through the filter of your personality, your desire, your passions, and your ideas.
Stop waiting for perfect motives and a feeling of adequacy. Move anyway. Offer the gift anyway. Be who you are anyway.
3. Give yourself permission to stay in your corner of the pool.
I wrote a post a few weeks ago, explaining what a hundred lifeguards taught me about my calling. Basically, know this: you can't lifeguard an entire pool at once. You can only safely and practically focus on a small area at a time. That small area isn't the whole pool, but it is still important.
Brave doesn't necessarily mean big. Sometimes it means small and specific (this day, this child, this sickness, this meal). It also means trusting other people with their tasks, with their corner of the pool.
Are you waiting to feel ready? If so, you might be waiting for a long time.
Sometimes there is no ready. There is only belief.
Reminding myself of limits, my giftedness and my calling generally give me courage to move into my world as the woman I already am. This is courage building all by itself.
If you aren't aware of your limits, your giftedness, or your calling?
I wrote a book called A Million Little Ways with the sole purpose of introducing practices to help you uncover the art you were born to make and what it means to release it into the world. I believe when Jesus lives within us, he wants to come out through our lives. But that will look different for you than it does for me.
He came down to come in, and came in to come out, and he'll do it in a million little ways. The book will release in November and is now available for pre-order. Visit Chatting at the Sky to learn more.
:angel:
For The Days You Think You're The Only One Not In The Club
Apr 13, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
Sometimes, the more your dream is woven into your deep places, the more you see it out in the world.
When I ached to be a mama but couldn't get pregnant, I saw pregnant women everywhere. No matter where my feet traveled – grocery stores, movies, church – there they were, members of an exclusive club where everyone knew the password but me.
Of course, this wasn't true at all. But tender things longed for and not held distorted my vision.
As my thirtysomething self looks around the dining room table at three shrinky dink versions of my husband and me, I see plain evidence that God says yes to desires, even if differently than I planned.
But what about those times when the evidence hides and you're convinced your desires are the exception? You are the exception?
We have in this community a cornucopia of writer-artists, women drenched in more talent than a sunrise in colors. Honest to goodness, it's easy – enjoyable! – for me to stand on Pike's Peak and cheer these women for their God given talents and accomplishments. However, it's harder for me to accept my own limitations don't make my work invaluable and invisible. And just like those days of waiting for the second pink line to show up on a pregnancy test, I find myself surrounded by a whole lotta book deals birthed. If I'm not careful, I start to believe my lack of one means I'm not invited to the club, a writing second class citizen.
What a lie.
"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." ~Psalm 37:4
Most desires have deep roots, and God is interested in answering the root desires because He knows that will best fulfill our soul-longing. When I think about this in context of what I want most out of life, I see more than anything I want relationships.
Genuine, real relationships. First with Jesus, then with family and friends.
Since I was seven and writing poems and endless short stories under the live oaks, I've felt a pull towards words. I don't know if mine will ever land in book form, but I can count relationship after relationship that blossomed from beautiful, glorious words.
And it's then I see how God has given me my heart's desire. But I'm not gonna lie: it's super hard not to get side-tracked.
"The challenge in those moments is to not close our hearts–to believe that if God says "not this" to something we hold dear to us that He's still saying "yes" to the desire deep within us."
~ Holley Gerth
Life in the church body isn't a race where each person stays in her own lane, trying to reach the finish line first. Rather, it's a community where everyone sits in a circle – no one further ahead or behind – and brings their gifts and experiences to the table.
You already possess fullness in Christ, and with that is confidence and security that you are enough today. So when we feel the cool temptation to see only what we do not have, may we remember to fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. He can't help but intently pay close attention – soul attention – to our desires. He is infinitely creative and able to meet them in ways that blow our everlovin' minds.
All we have to do is pay attention. Because when we do, we see it's not about being out of a club but in a family whose Father welcomes you with wide open arms, always and forever.
Kristen Strong, sitting with you at Chasing Blue Skies.
:angel:
The Gift of Community (and a Giveaway!)
Apr 15, 2013 01:20 am | Crystal Stine
She told me to return the gift. It was too much. She wouldn't take no for an answer.
I thought I was finally figuring out how to be a friend, to be part of a community. I thought I found someone I could trust, and I let her in to see the real me. Laughter, tears, joy, fear: all of it. I opened myself to this new friendship, so excited to see it blooming.
The night she told me to return the gift she also called me selfish. Said we should no longer be friends if I couldn't see things her way. I was devastated. My heart began to harden toward community.
Sweet friends, I have been hurt by community. More than once I've walked down the painful road of rejection. The kind that makes you want to pull the fuzzy covers over your head and eat double-stuffed mint Oreos. For a long time. By the grace of God, He refused to let me stay there.
When I look back on those moments, somewhere in the middle of mourning the end of the relationships, I see God at work. I see Him drawing me closer to Himself, loving me through the pain, and bending my heart to prepare me for where I am now. Without those hurts, I wouldn't have come across the incredible online community of (in)courage.
Women who go out of their way to spread the love of Christ through the written word and reach deep into the lives of women around the world. These friends? They took a chance on me. More than once. Now they have become an answer to long-ago prayers as they let me help encourage the (in)couragers and watch God do amazing work to build online community groups.
Check out the video intro to our (in)couragers over here. Tune in next week for the full story.
I realize now that, over time, God has turned the ashes of broken community into beauty. Like my blog – I first used my blog as an escape, an online journal to pour out my heart and my hurts where no one would see what I wrote, until God called me to make it public and use it for His glory. And now? That blog full of hurts is a place where God has built community and a God Sized Dream to use my words to encourage women, especially mamas.
And I would never have had the courage to do something like host (in)RL last year, at a time when I was craving real life community. But I knew women on Twitter who were excited about it and they gave me the boldness to go for it! God met me there, in my home with some of my closest real life friends and He started the seed of another God Sized Dream in my heart.
God uses our pain for His platform. My struggles with community have given me a heart for building community and encouraging women – because I've seen the other side. My desire to escape into online community has turned into wonderful, amazing in real life friendships that I could have never imagined. Online community has given me the courage to be in community in real life. So I stay in community even when the enemy tries to convince me I'm not good enough to be there, when he reminds me of my past and brings the scars to the surface. Bottom line? I know this is where God wants me right now. He has refined me, transformed my story of broken community into a story of hope, restoration and joy. He has made beauty of my ashes. Because life? It really is better together.
Click here to come over to our (in)RL page to register for FREE and find out how you can join in on the real life community fun on April 26th & 27th!
Join us today for an (in)courage link up – share a blog post telling us where you have seen God at work in your communities (online or in real life).
Each of you who link up with us (and help us spread the (in)courager's trailer and a FREE (in)RL registration invitation) will be entered to win one of of the amazing new (in)courage ((together)) necklaces by Lisa Leonard!
1 necklace for every 100 blog posts linked up!
:angel:
Feeding on God's Faithfulness
The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you;
he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.
Deuteronomy 31:8
We are on our knees today, friends. Our hearts, our thoughts and – most of all – our prayers are with those affected by the tragedy in Boston.
This is a community founded on prayer. As we join hands across the internet today and lift up our hearts, broken for Boston, let's pray for one another, too.
How can we pray for you? Please, share a prayer request in the comments, then say a prayer for the person who left the comment before you.
:angel: :angel:
Apr 16, 2013 01:10 am | Evelyn Rennich
Recently my husband and I launched a diet of sorts. I've been reading about how our bodies operate best when fed true food, healthy and fresh and whole. As I think about how to effectively feed my body this week, it is natural that I would also explore how to feed my soul. It stands to reason that our souls would also function best when fed correctly.
This observation is why, perhaps, Psalm 37:3 struck me so deeply this morning.
"Trust in the LORD, and do good; dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness." (NKJV)
What does it mean to feed on God's faithfulness? What would it look like? I picture two scenarios in my head.
In the first scenario I see horses feeding upon lush grass in a field. Their heads are down, grazing leisurely. Their tails lazily swish flies away. Their backs absorb the warm afternoon sun. It's peaceful, enjoyable—an ongoing feeding process as they munch and linger.
The second scenario is less relaxing but just as sweet. I picture my boys, two years and six months old, feeding upon each other's energy. The older makes a spitting sound that only a two year old boy can appreciate, and then the younger smiles and gasps. His eyes dance as he encourages his brother to continue. The enthusiasm and volume level escalate as their shared joy swirls around them. They feed upon each other's excitement to keep the playtime going.
I imagine "feeding upon God's faithfulness" to be similar to these scenarios—a restful enjoyment of God's presence and promises all day. Or perhaps a wild revel in His goodness and constancy that makes you want to dance and scream and giggle and maybe even make ridiculous spitting noises.
I continue chewing on that verse, and I wonder why we are encouraged to feed on God's faithfulness as opposed to His many other appealing qualities? His faithfulness is what causes Him to be steadfast, unchanging, true, constant. He won't leave. He won't change. His faithfulness will sustain. His faithfulness will carry you through your day, toddler tantrums and sticky rice on the carpet and all.
Friends, your God won't leave. He won't change. Can I encourage you today to let your soul feed on His faithfulness, however that might look for you? Enjoy Him moment by moment. Find your sustenance in His constancy, His unshakable goodness. Let His joy bubble up inside as you graze on His faithfulness through the hours. You might find that it's the best meal you've ever had.
by Evelyn Rennich, Smallish.
:angel: :angel:
be)loved
Apr 18, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
"Define yourself radically as one beloved by God.
This is the true self.
Every other identity is illusion."
~ Brennan Manning
I assumed she knew.
How could she not know? This Godly young woman's life preaches the Gospel whether or not she's using words–her decisions, counsel, countenance all point to One Thing. Jesus.
I assume you know, too....
We go to church. Read and study scripture. Bookmark Christian websites. Pen our faith in paper journals. Proclaim it with our lips, in our homes, online.
It's not that we haven't heard it or read it. It's too important to forget, yet remembering is so hard. Why...is..that...?
Is it simply that knowing with your head doesn't equal believing with your heart?
Will you declare this with me, right now – out loud – and pray the ears of your heart hear it with believing?
I am beloved.
(Colossians 3:12)
I'm convinced the enemy delights in our defeat. He's been hissing lies since the garden. Venomous fangs punch holes in our hearts, siphoning belief and injecting poison in its place. Ears are deafened, vision is obscured, perspective is distorted.
He peddles junk we're much too eager to buy: the (false) belief whatever it is we have to offer doesn't matter, isn't enough, falls short in comparison to everyone else.
We see the talents of others and stamp them Better. We compare ourselves to family, friends, even strangers (insanity!) and assign them a greater value because they're doing something we cannot, will not, have not or may not even want to do!
Shoulders slump and countenance falls because a distorted mirror reflects imaginary inferiority.
Listen to me, lovies–
God calls you beloved!
God calls you beloved and when he looks upon you he sees his son, covered in your skin, speaking with your voice. He values you and he doesn't need you, he wants you.
I searched the new testament for instances of the term beloved; in the ESV translation I found 66 verses. And though every verse doesn't apply exactly, when you read them at one time, you come away with a sense of how God sees his children–with great intimacy, affection and unconditional love. (Related – if you're interested, a study of the word and related derivatives, its Greek origin and application)
God has made you unique–do you understand this?! You are one of a kind. Precious. Irreplacable.
I want to shout it until you hear, shake you to awaken you from belief's slumber, press it into you until your heart receives what your hard head already knows.
You are altering the future by impacting everyone around you by how you treat them, how you choose to love them (or withhold love), how you listen, encourage, invest. Y o u.
Some of us will make tiny ripples and others will send waves crashing, but each one will forever change the surface of the water.
Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. ~ 1 Corinthians 12:4-7
Some of us are stubby pinky toes and some of us are melodious voice boxes and some of us are fleshy thighs or muscular calves or beating hearts but we're all part of the body, and when it's at its healthiest, all the parts are doing their job and working together. (1 Corinthians 12:14-25)
In 1 Corinthians 12, Paul draws an analogy between the physical body and the spiritual; how every part is necessary.
Verse 19, "If all were a single member, where would the body be?" and in verses 22-23a, "...the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor...."
Every part matters. Lesser is greater, last is first–Kingdom ways refused to be boxed in man's convention. It's a kingdom of opposite value in so many ways.
It is no small thing that you are God's beloved; in fact, it is everything.
Everything that matters, anyway.
If what the Bible says is true, Jesus gave his life for you. Our ears fall numb from hearing that so often, but when I allow myself to linger on this, I begin to see my worth. My value to God. The purpose and significance of the things I do well. Though it is likely that others may share your talents and gifts, not one person on the planet, past, present or future, shares your thumbprint.
Yes, I assume you know these things (I assumed she did, too) but sometimes we need to be reminded. When it feels like everyone around you seems to be achieving greater successes; or doing greater things for the Kingdom; or enjoying the blessing of great marriage or having children or finding the perfect job; or being more talented or generating interest from Very Important People or receiving more opportunities; or maybe it seems like you don't have any talent whatsoever, nothing distinguishable to offer or that you're an invisibility cloak wrapped around vanilla...whatever it feels like...
It's not about what you do or don't do, say or don't say, contribute or withhold–God doesn't love you any less or any more based on your performance. It's simple Truth, impossible for the human mind to comprehend, but it is enough–
You. Are. Beloved.
: : : : : : : : :
With {{love}} from one who needs to be reminded, too.
:angel:
Groceries and Grace
Apr 18, 2013 01:10 am | Erin Rodgers
We'd just relocated to a new area, and I was out shopping for groceries with my toddler son. We had family coming to town that weekend, so I made a special stop at a higher-end, expensive grocery store to pick up some hard-to-find ingredients for a family meal.
While parking the car and wrangling my son out of his seat, I took note of all the Mercedes and Audis in the parking lot. These luxury cars reaffirmed in my mind that we were at a more upscale grocer.
I looked down at the floor of my car in need of a good vacuuming and felt an instant rush of unworthiness.
Inside, after gathering our ingredients, my son and I waited in line to pay. I looked about and saw some business people on their lunch break , dressed impeccably in suits and rushing to get back to work.
I felt a pang of jealousy for what I perceived as their importance.
I also saw the woman ahead of me in line – trendy bag slung over her shoulder, ring finger almost disappearing under her stacked diamonds and her designer label shoes. Once again, I made a mental comparison against myself.
My hoodie and flip-flops didn't quite cut the mustard.
How did I feel walking out of that grocery store? I felt badly about myself and my situation in life. I let the enemy whisper lies into my ear – lies of unworthiness, lies of inadequacy and lies that smacked of materialism.
I was immediately convicted by the Holy Spirit. I had allowed every one of the blessings in my life to pale in comparison to those few superficial observations.
Instead of feeling joy in knowing that I was free to stay home with my son because God paved a financial way for that to happen, I felt unimportant.
When I should have been thankful for God's timing in bringing us to this new area and orchestrating our move to another state, instead, I felt unsure and self-conscious.
Instead of looking at the precious gift at my side and his upturned face, innocent eyes gleaming with wonder, I was looking at "things."
I prayed a prayer of repentance and asked God to forgive me. The Lord used a quick errand to gently remind me that the process of walking with Him requires my eyes to be trained upward toward Jesus and nowhere else.
In the same way that Peter removed his gaze from Jesus and began to slip under the waves, it is the same for us. No matter what situation we find ourselves in – a difficult day disciplining the children, a health matter, financial stress or even a routine stop at the store – it doesn't matter. Jesus is there, holding out His hand, beckoning us closer even still.
There is no greater peace or hope available anywhere.
Thank you, Father, for your merciful grace in our lives. Let us keep our eyes on you, Lord Jesus.
"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:2 (NIV)
By: Erin Rodgers
:angel:
When You Need Permission To Close The Laptop And Let It Be
Apr 17, 2013 01:20 am | Deidra
The other night, I sat on the couch, staring at the cursor on my laptop. You've had that experience, haven't you? Where you sit there, staring at a blank box with a deadline looming heavy over your head. And there sits that cursor. Blinking. I was considering dressing up as a blinking curser the next time I get invited to a costume party. I'd blink my eyes a lot and say bad words. Thank goodness my husband broke into my reverie:
"Let it rest," he was saying.
"Huh?" I said to him, trying to pull myself away from the hypnotic beat of the cursor.
"Let it rest," he said again. "Close the laptop, and let it be."
"But..." I began.
"It will still be there tomorrow," he said. "Nothing will have changed, and nothing is going to change, just because you sit here, staring at that screen."
He had a point. So I closed it. Let it rest. Let it be. And the whole entire world opened up in front of me. Just like that.
I remembered outside and music and food and laughter and holding hands and the sound of snow melting from the roof overhanging our front porch. I remembered fresh air and sunshine.
My husband and I hopped on our bikes and rode a few miles to the lake nearby. We sat on a bench that faced the setting sun, and we talked about the future and what we hope will be and what we're glad we've done, and where we've been.
On the way home, we stopped next to a young boy and his dad, also on their bikes. We waited for the light to turn green, and the little boy was saying, "There are millions of us, racing across the street!" He hunched low over his handlebars, imagining a throng of bike racers, waiting for the starting gun. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" he shouted above the whoosh of cars passing by; and then the light turned green and we were off! All five million of us, in the race of our lives.
The boy and his dad turned off once we crossed the street, but my husband and I pedaled hard and we shouted into the wind, "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" and laughed out loud as the sun spilled pink and orange across the horizon.
Sometimes, the blinking cursor gets more credit than it's due, you know?
:angel:
I'm Cheering for Your God-sized Dreams Today
Apr 17, 2013 01:10 am | Holley Gerth
I'm Holley Gerth–God-sized dreamer, cofounder of (in)courage, life coach and a friend who cheers wildly for you and all God has created you to do. I'm so glad I get to be here with you this week on Bloom. I wish we could have coffee so let's make this the next best thing. XO
***
We started our journey together on Monday talking about how we all long for more in our lives. Finding it seems like something mysterious. We wait for "more" to come to us. But here's the reality: most of the time we discover it along the way as we're saying "yes" to God.
The "more" we long for isn't something we can produce—instead it's something we receive. It's not found inside our comfort zones but instead just beyond them in the wild and glorious adventures God invites us to take with him.
You won't find "more" on your couch.
You won't find it in long hours at the office.
You won't find it in the new car parked in the driveway.
You won't even find it in your friends and family.
You'll only find it in the arms of Jesus.
Behind every "more" we dream of, he is what our hearts really want most. And they will never be satisfied with settling for anything less.
Consider the God-sized dreams in your heart as invitations to a fuller life. A life with more joy, passion, and growth. A life that makes you rejoice on the good days and push through the hard days because you know it's worth it.
You only get one shot at this world. And we only get one you. Make the most of your time here. Dare to dream. Dare to do. Dare to find out just how much God has in store for you.
I've loved sharing this journey with you. I wish we could end with a real life conversation. I'd ask you all about what your heart has heard and your God-sized dream. I'd lean in and let you tell me all about it. I'd smile, nod and cheer you on through every word.
Before we left, I would pray for you too.
And until we get to have that face-to-face chat here or in heaven, I'm going to pray for you anyway...starting right now, right here as I type these words.
Lord,
Thank you for the one who is on this page right now. You know her name, her needs, her dreams. I thank you that she is a woman of faith and courage—a Joshua or Caleb in her generation. I thank you that even though she may feel some fear, she is saying "yes" to what you have placed in her heart to do.
As she goes about her day, I pray that you would continue the work that you've started here. Guide her into the next step of her journey with you. Show her more of what you have in store for her. Provide what she needs all along the way.
I'm so glad you're with her the way I wish I could be today. Give her heart a hug for me. Help her with her dream. Thank you that it's going to change the world, her life and eternity too.
Amen.
As we walked out the door of that little café where we had coffee I'd say the four words we use in the South, when we're feeling happy and want to encourage someone. Yes, here's a little send-off just for you...
"Go get 'em, friend!"
–Holley Gerth, You're Made for a God-sized Dream
:angel: :angel:
A Place of Your Own
Apr 19, 2013 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
Do you have a place of your own?
I'm not talking about having a house or apartment. I mean, do you have somewhere set aside where you go to be alone, a place where you can shut out the world and hear God's voice? A quiet place where you look forward to meeting God and where God is invited in to meet you?
It's easy to slip into only meeting God at church on Sundays. But to really grow and get to know Him, we need to set aside a time and place of our own for the time in between — a place where we can be intentional about meeting up with God as a part of our day to day life.
Maybe it is a corner of your home where you can shut the door, light a candle and pray?
Maybe you have a special chair, a comfy blanket, a Bible and a stack of devotional books on a table designating that is your place?
Or maybe you go to a local coffee shop filled with the hustle and bustle of voices, but you tune them out when you begin to sip your coffee in the corner booth, open your Bible study and begin to read God's word?
Perhaps you and God hang out on the way to work every morning, in your car. That's awesome, God looks forward to that time with you and He'll be there waiting!
You know that feeling when you make plans with someone and are excited about it, but they don't show up or even remember to call and reschedule? Yeah. I think God knows that feeling too. Gulp.
I remember a season of life where I was really down and felt discouraged. I needed to connect with God and sense His presence. But where was He among all the distractions? I couldn't find Him because I let everything else get in the way. So, one morning I quietly went out into my yard by myself and started a garden. You know what? God met me there. I had set everything else aside to be alone and make time to hear from Him. Now I see gardens as a very special place for meeting up with God.
It really doesn't matter where your "place" is. The important thing is that we are deliberate in our intent to meet Him somewhere regularly. We need to create that time and space that is convenient and a part of our daily life. The beach is a great place to meet God but if it takes you hours to get there, you might want to find somewhere within walking distance so you can meet Him daily. And then once you have that place set aside, don't forget Him or get distracted by the things of the world. He's out there waiting, wondering if we will show up and invite Him in.
A day in this world is a loud, busy and distracting experience for me, so I love creating a place of my own — where the rest of the world can be tuned out and I can connect with Him. I've often been the worst offender of putting Him off while I attend to other pressing matters. But when I remember that place – the place I've already set aside for Him, and I picture Him waiting there for me, I am aware of how little everything else matters. I can't wait to meet up with Him there!
Where is your place?
Melissa @ The Inspired Room
:angel:
Hope for the Rejected
Apr 20, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
I knew what I was supposed to do. Go into all the world and share the gospel with every creature. But something in me held back, and it's been holding for so long. Maybe it was holding even long before I was born.
My Great-Grandmother was a young maid for a wealthy farm owner, and she got pregnant, just a young thing, before she was married. That baby, head full of curly red hair, was my grandmother, and she lived with her own grandmother instead of with her young Mama. Nine years later, she finally moved into the house with her mama and daddy and all her younger sisters. She was gorgeous, grew long legs, and became a majorette with a wit and beauty that snagged a handsome country boy. The country boy played a mean game of basketball. Together they had my mama and my aunt, but he didn't stay.
It makes me wonder if we were all born into shame. Do we pass it down, pump it into umbilical cords? Something in every one of us has felt the sting of rejection. Some of us hold back all our beauty for fear of coming under the shame of rejection. I know my grandmother has had a hard time passing down the beauty instead.
Some people might call it a nudging of the Spririt, but I promise you, I felt God stand behind me and start pushing, while I dug my heals into the ground. I wasn't being "called." I was being taken into ministry. I was asking for His Kingdom to Come, but then it terrified me, because I knew I was hindered in my walk. I began to work through all the things that kept me from loving others, because ultimately it was a lack of love that kept me from going freely where I knew to go.
So much of the world that I had tried to control began to crumble when I finally named it: a spirit of, and such a fear of, rejection. When I finally named it, called it an idol, and saw what lies it had fed me, I couldn't help but turn and run in the opposite direction. What I'm finding in this freedom is completely new. It's a race, and I'm finally running.
I've not only been released to love, but I have a new trajectory. I am no longer being pushed, but I am full-on running toward HOPE.
It's funny how strange it is to have HOPE again. It's what draws the poison out.
For a while now I've so overly empathized with those wrestling doubt and disbelief that I forgot about HOPE, and if we forget hope, we begin to only hear the shame. We nestle into the dark, disappointed left and right. But I remember it now:
"Hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us" (Romans 5:5).
The walls I've built against men, and the ones who look so fixed, and yes against my own grandmother, they are crumbling. Sometimes we just haven't yet believed how loved we are. If we would listen – not as the world listens- but really turn around and listen, the Holy Spirit speaks to us within our own broken hearts. He shines light into shame, as when He spoke the word over the void dark of the deep: God loves you. You won't be disappointed. Hope, let's call it Kingdom. It's here and more than that, it's mighty and on its way. Get back up and run.
*This post is part 2 of Let the Game Changer Change the Game.*
:angel:
The One Song No Woman Can Afford to Miss
Apr 23, 2013 04:20 am | Ann Voskamp
I heard of a woman once, who when she was with child, she turned and this song swelled in her, her child's own song, and she would hum it as she washed pots.
Hum it as she did her hair up, hum that song like a beckoning.
And when that woman swayed at the end of her ripening, just before the child came, she had hummed it low between each tightening, how she had hummed that song, her daughter's very own anthem.
And then she sang it during the nights.
When she got up in the middle of night with babe squalling and flailing her fists, she'd swaddle the little one close and rock her, lean over that bald, soft head and sing her song to her in this shaft of moon.
She sang it during the long days.
When the little girl fell, scraped her knee. When she refused to eat. When the rain pelted and the girl huddled. When the earth spun and the girl turned older. When the dark slunk in at the door and the girl groped for a way through impossible black.
Sometimes the mother's voice grew hoarse.
Sometimes the mother rocked herself to sleep with the child's song. I could see it, how she sang it like a prayer.
Sometimes she wondered if anyone heard that song but her.
But when the girl was long and willowy, when her heart had thickened into this long scared callous, when her heart seemed more wall than warm and her arms seemed crossed more into a shield than open like a shelter, the mother had heard it one afternoon under the direct noon day sun — other voices singing the girl's song too.
The grey crowned woman across the way. The tender, stretching girl, born that same long summer when she had lilted those first notes. The sister, all the sisters singing.
The girl, she had grown deaf and numb and hard to all she was and had been and could be –
But her sisters knew her song.
Her sisters knew the beat of her heart when she had forgotten how to be.
Her sisters knew the rhythm of her return when she didn't know the road back.
Her sisters knew the lyrics of why she was loved when she couldn't remember how to live.
Her sisters sang her song — when she had long forgotten the words to herself.
Singing the girl's song, all of them singing it soft and strong and certain — her sisters singing her back.
Her sisters sang her beauty when she saw herself ugly.
Her sisters sang her wanted when she saw herself broken.
Her sisters sang her hope when she only felt hurt.
Her sisters sang her beloved — when she couldn't believe.
It could be like this — It could be honest, what her sisters sang:
This is a fallen world. So everyone has broken edges. So everyone is going to hurt you. So commit who you will suffer for.
It could be haunting, what her sisters sang:
Will you love people by halves, breaking their heart?
Or will you love people wholly, holding their only heart?
It could be hope, what her sisters sang:
If you listen close, you can tell you are cared for by someone by how they carry your name on their lips. How your name is safe on their tongue.
And Christ, He names you friend, and God, He calls you redeemed and forgiven, and in Christ, the Three in One, He christens you free of condemnation and accepted and God's workmanship — and your identity is not in a making a name for yourself but in the name He makes for you out of the shaved off lovebits of His very heart.
Even the trees of the field are singing it and the girl with the shielded heart, she could turn –
Her mother, her sisters, some could hardly sing for the lump of love in the throat, but they, they could raise hands with the sisterhood, the sisterhood beckoning one girl back to the song of who she was and the circle of love that longed to enfold her again...
And they will tell you, that's when you could hear it –
the girl, the Father's daughter, her voice warbling like a rising, her voice singing like a brave winging, and they would see her coming, could see the girl coming, remembering the notes of her song, remembering who her Father made her to be, remembering who she was and Whose she was, and how she ran like she was made to fly.
She knew it in the lightness of her bones, what the friendship of women could be:
Sisters will just keep singing your song
Till it perches in your lost places,
Tuning you to what grace is
and the lovesong of your Father
who never stops singing at all.
It's a true story. Her sisters said that all around her: because we believe — we promise to never stop singing your song.
And because the sisters sang — one woman heard what she didn't know possible –
her Father rejoicing over her with gladness;
quieting her fears with His love
exulting over her with loud singing — so loud it drowns out all the doubts.
His love ringing her alive right there in her turned ears.
"The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing." ~Zephaniah 3:17
~Written for you– sung for you — by Ann Voskamp
Related: Letters to the Wounded #2
The story of the African Tribe who sings the child's song over them their whole life
This weekend nearly 5,000 of your sisters will be gathering in real life in 558 locations around the globe — with (in)RL meetups right around the corner from you. A space to laugh together and be real and extend the hand of friendship — and sing the one song every woman needs to know. That you are loved. That you are wanted. That you matter. That God lavishes love on you.
The body of Christ is a Love Body — come experience it this weekend. Watch at home online Friday night. Meet up on Saturday.It's entirely free — you know you need this. Be brave. Start here. Hear your sisters singing? They're singing your song.
Q4U: How do you feel about women friendships? How have you been hurt? How have you been healed?
Will you dare to join an (in)RL gathering this weekend and let your sisters sing over you? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)
:angel:
Wanting History.
Apr 25, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
Last Sunday, Meghan came to church with us.
She's moving to Nashville soon and our mutual friend in New York connected us, so she visited our church and then grabbed brunch afterwards. Over a table of brioche French toast, we talked about what it's like to relocate to a brand new place where you don't have any friends, especially as a single gal.
"It's hard," she said, "to move to a town where no one knows my history or has any memories with me."
I remembered that feeling all too well. Though I've lived in Nashville for almost five years, that emotion followed me for so long and was so pungent in my life that I can still smell it if I think long enough.
Those first few months (fine, the first twelve months at least) were some lonely days. I just wanted to say "remember when" instead of meeting new people every day. Starting over. "Hi, I'm Annie. I'm from Marietta, it's outside of Atlanta. I'm an author..." blah blah same thing every time blah.
I was tired of it. All the new.
I wanted to think back to that funny moment with Heather. I wanted to look at Laura across a room when her ex-boyfriend walked into the party and roll our eyes because we lived that mess together. I wanted to celebrate Steve's accomplishments because I had lived the hard days with him, too. I wanted to be surrounded by history even while making more of it.
But at the beginning? None of that exists. No house of memories in which to live. And it was harder than I ever imagined.
I didn't realize how much I valued history with people until I didn't have it.
My Nashville life was just full of bricks of friends and stories, laid around, waiting to be put together. And it takes time to build that house of memories.
All that went through my mind in the few minutes around that table as I thought about my five years in this town. How the toiling and stacking of bricks has paid off and how I deeply appreciate my history here now.
It takes time. Do you need to hear that today? Are you discouraged at your lack of history or lack of memories? It just plain takes time. And the courage to say yes to invites or opportunities and the extra courage to try again if you've been burned by a group or a person.
Are you looking for history with friends? For memories with people who live around you? (in)RL this weekend is a perfect opportunity to start building that house. Be brave. Show up. Build.
Can we pray for you as you are looking for history and memories and community? Let us know.
. . . . .
By Annie Downs
:angel: :angel:
Hiding What's Broken
Apr 25, 2013 01:10 am | Christy @ A Heartening Life
I watched intently as my sweet pink princess of a daughter played. She was a busy five-year-old, spunky and imaginative and always on the move.
She plodded slowly towards me, doll hanging by her side. In her eyes I could see frustration and a touch of sad.
"My doll won't stand up!"
I took up the porcelain doll and examined her carefully.
"I don't want her anymore," she said.
Beneath her doll's purple satin and lace dress was a piece of metal where a leg used to be. Collateral damage from a little girl adventure, perhaps.
"I don't want her because she's broken."
Aren't we all broken? I heard a voice inside me say.
The curly blonde doll with the blushed pink cheeks and the blinking blue eyes –something was missing, but she was still beautiful. The doll and I, we hide the broken pretty well. For many years I hid the painful reality of childhood sexual abuse. It was crippling and I doubted my worth.
I explained to my young one that even though the doll could not be fixed it didn't mean she had no value. The lesson seemed lost on her at the time, but not to me. I am as imperfect as the doll with the missing leg. I was hiding my imperfections fearing that if someone were to find out about them they might discard me.
I was tangled in chains, wishing I was whole. Deeply wanting restoration.
Despite my brokenness and my scars, I am beautiful because God tells me I am. Unlike the doll, I can be mended. I am not broken beyond repair. He makes all things new, even me.
Through Him, I have found the courage to stop hiding the parts of me I see as ugly. And share the real me, with a world that needs to know the One who finds value in the broken.
What brokenness are you hiding? What fears keep you from letting people see the real you?
By Christy, A Heartening Life
:angel: :angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Apr 28, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
Now to him who is able to do
immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine,
according to his power that is at work within us,
to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus
throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.
Ephesians 3:20-21
What an incredible weekend this has been! Thousands of you gathered all around the world, taking brave steps into community, daring to sit and share with your sisters – and we know that our Lord has done immeasurably more than we could have asked for or imagined.
On this Sunday after our (in)RL gatherings, we pray that you've enjoyed sweet community with the women in your life, that you've taken time to gather in His name, that you've created – or nourished – relationships that sustain you. Because when you do, He is there.
Love,
Your (in)courage team
P.S. If you missed (in)RL, it's not too late! Videos are still live on www.inrl.us for anyone who registered. And you can still register now and watch the videos.
The videos will be available until midnight on Sunday, April 28.
:angel:
Patience on the Journey of Motherhood Holds Great Rewards!
May 01, 2013 01:20 am | Sally Clarkson
Desperate was the word that captured my feelings as a young mom of three under five years old.
Becoming a mom at 31, I did absolutely adore my precious children, but I was exhausted every day, never quite on top of the messes, sleep deprived and often short tempered. For a few years, I gingerly held life together, but seemed to become more weary and exhausted each passing day.
When my third child, Nathan, was born, he appeared perfect. An easy delivery, he slept through the night immediately and I thought, "This is going to be an easy-going baby!"
That lasted for three days.
From that moment on, he was absolutely unpredictable. He did not sleep through the night until he was 4 ½. When I would try to put him to sleep at nights, even as an infant, he would arch his back and scream and yell for thirty minutes.
From time to time, he was that child in a restaurant who would throw a chicken leg across the room, lay on the floor and kick and scream.
"No!" was his favorite word when Nathan was five years old. As the third child and second boy, it seemed he had to do something every day to get attention to be sure he was not overlooked.
"What am I supposed to do with a child like this?" I prayed every day.
I felt torn between loving my children and feeling inadequate and frustrated most days.
One day, I sat down in total defeat, a sense of darkness hovering over my soul, and wondering what I was doing wrong, I opened my Bible and read...
"Children are a blessing from God, the fruit of the womb is a reward."
Slowly over the next days, as this verse began to capture my imagination, I began to ask God to show me my children from his eyes and to help me to know just how I was supposed to mother them.
Little by little, I fell in love with each child, and began to understand their unique personalities. Working diligently on patience, gentleness and giving them encouragement through thoughtful words, I began to see that I was changing and growing in my ability to manage and give grace to my children. But they were also changing, too. Slowly, they became more delightful, and more responsive.
God lives in my home, but sometimes I ignore Him and don't hear the music He is playing just for me. This journey of mothering is a challenging marathon of moments, hours, days, months, years, and decades. And yet, in each moment, God has sprinkled across our paths beauty, love, and joy. We have only to cultivate eyes in our hearts to observe this Artist's work of life.
Recently, as my new book Desperate – Hope for the Mom Who Needs to Breathe came out, I received a surprise email from my son, Nathan, who had first challenged my life so very much. It read:
Hey, sweet Mom,
I just wanted to take a moment and thank you from the bottom of my heart for living the kind of life you led. I realize now I really did have the best mom in the world.
I never knew how much it would mean, that in the mornings as we spent time reading the Bible together, how much those words would guide me as an adult. You always believed in me and gave me a vision for living my life to the fullest. Spending time being my friend when I know you had a zillion things to do meant more than you will ever know.
It was the feasts–every night, no matter what we ate, candle light and music and talking and talking.
Saturday night pizza and movie nights.
Bedtime rituals every night with back scratches and stories and one mama song
Washing dishes to Christian rock music to make it easier
Taking me into your room with hot chocolate and mama Nathan times to tell me how special I was.
More things than I can count, but, Mama, I always thought our home was the best in all the world place to be and you made it that way be being an artist of life.
As I am here in Hollywood, I see so many prodigals, searching, lost and hurting, because most of them have little support or love from home. I can't tell you how honored I am to call you my mom. The work of moms really makes a difference!
But honestly the most amazing thing to me is the 30+ years you have given your life to serving God, by taking the time to serve all of us. I am so blessed to have you, and the work of your hands will pay off forever in HUGE ways.
Thanks for choosing the hard path of raising me, and putting up with all my "things", and loving us enough to give up your whole life.
Love you, mama, you are the best!
Nathan
Being an intentional mom has stretched me and challenged me more than I ever imagined, but the deep rewards of seeing my adult children become my best friends and watching them flourish, has been more fulfilling than I could possibly have ever known.
By Sally Clarkson
You can get a copy of Desperate at DaySpring, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or ChristianBook.com. You can enter to win one of 5 being given away by going here.
:angel: :angel:
Why We Need Both Roses & Thorns
May 01, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver
Right before I graduated from college, a classmate wrote an article for our school paper. He called it "Roses and Thorns" and listed some of the best and worst parts of his four years at our university. Roses were the things he'd loved, the experiences he'd treasure, the friends he'd miss. Thorns, on the other hand, were the regrets, the mistakes and the disappointments that countered those blessings.
For years, I kept that article – clipped and yellowed after time – on my fridge. Traveling with us from apartment to duplex to house, it reminded me that life isn't all roses or all thorns. No, life is full of both, and acknowledging (and even appreciating) both makes for real, beautiful living.
——————–
I've been working at my church for the past year. Going back to work after two years as a stay-at-home mom was a relief for many reasons – and I loved it. I loved being on "the inside" and seeing the inner workings of the church my family calls home, and more importantly, I loved the people I worked with.
What I didn't love quite as much were the actual tasks I did on a daily basis. Not all of them. But some of them, I could've done without – and a few I flat-out dreaded. For a long while, though, that didn't matter. I was working with people I adored for a mission I believed in wholeheartedly. When I stayed focused on those things, my actual job description simply wasn't that important.
Then another opportunity came my way. And while it looked identical to my job at the church in the people-I-adore and mission-I-believe-in departments, it brought with it work-from-home flexibility and [my favorite part] work that fit into my skill set and gifts. I'll spare you my lengthy and angsty mental debate. Long story short, I changed jobs a few weeks ago.
Despite knowing that I was making the right move, my last days at the church were full of tears. This is silly! I told myself, over and over. After all, I wasn't leaving the church. I'd still be highly involved, leading a small group with my husband and serving in Kids City every Sunday morning. And just because I didn't work with the amazing people on staff didn't mean we would stop being friends.
But I knew, too, that things wouldn't be the same. Relationships would change, and the new person would sit at my desk now and probably rearrange my pens and paper clips a different way.
I would miss my job. A lot.
——————–
One of the things I miss most about working at my church is our weekly staff meetings. What made those two hours on Wednesday mornings so special for me was partly just seeing everyone on our staff gathered in one place, laughing and sharing and updating each other on their ministry areas. But what I miss most, what energized and inspired me and held me over for the following week was sharing our wins and challenges.
No matter what else was on the agenda for the week, our pastor started each meeting by asking each of us where we were winning and what challenges we were facing. Our answers could be personal or professional (although in ministry, the line between the two is often blurred), and we could share as much or as little as we wanted. Most weeks, everyone shared something. And often, we stopped in the middle of the conversation to pray for each other.
Knowing my friends' and colleagues' wins and challenges meant I knew about them, and likewise, telling them about the victories and struggles in my own life let them get to know me. Those minutes spent whispering and shouting, laughing and crying, clapping loudly and sitting quietly opened doors and let us into each other's hearts.
Hearing about the roses and thorns in my friends' day-to-day lives gave me a fuller picture than if we'd only celebrated the highs or lamented the lows.
Sometimes it's hard to share our struggles; none of us wants to be seen as weak or needy. Likewise, it can be difficult to say our wins out loud, too, for fear we seem prideful or even shallow, depending on what we choose to be grateful for. But sharing those things, the ones that lodge in our throats and live in the center of our hearts? THAT is how we truly build trust and relationships and community. No life is all roses or all thorns, but we've all got at least a little bit of both. And knowing about both means I see the real, whole you, living your real, whole life.
Today I thought we could share a little bit of ourselves here in this safe place where we all long to know and be known. I'll start with my roses and thorns, then will you share yours in the comments?
Roses: My daughter is excited about kindergarten, swim lessons and her new devotional book. A blog post I wrote recently got a lot (for me) comments. And I've finally dug my house out from under the clutter and chaos that had been ruling the roost for the past three months.
Thorns: I'm trying to lose weight and It. Is. Hard. I'm nervous about balancing my time and priorities now that I'm working from home. And I've gotten out of the habit of a morning quiet time, and it's wearing on me to go without quality time in the Word.
Your turn! What do the roses and thorns in your life look like?
Where are you winning? Where are you struggling?
:angel: :angel:
Seasons and Silver
From Overpowered to Empowered
May 02, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa
It was one of those days. I was driving to the airport in the pouring rain. The skies were grey. The day felt a bit gloomy. And honestly, so did I.
There were just a lot of little things swarming my thoughts. Feelings of inadequacy stinging. "There are so many things I'm responsible for and never enough hours in the day. I do enough to keep things from sinking. But I just wonder if I'm doing anything well. I don't think I am – doing anything well."
The more I focused on these thoughts, the more overpowered I became. The more overpowered I became, the more withdrawn I felt.
I pulled into the parking space and started the fight with my luggage. My suitcase has two wheels missing. And of course I keep intending to do something about this. But I don't have time. So I make do with a crazy suitcase and a crazy life and a crazy sense I should just pack my family up and move out west somewhere. Live on a ranch where we grow our own food and I cook beans in a black pot over an open flame.
Surely that would fix everything.
Except that I know it wouldn't.
Because the chaos isn't from my circumstances. It's inside me.
I boarded the plane. I stared out the window. I watched the grey clouds envelop us.
And then the grey broke.
Suddenly, we rose above the clouds and the sun was shining crazy bright and far wide and fabulously clear.
The clouds were just a temporary covering. They didn't stop the sun from shining. They just prevented my eyes from seeing the sun. And it wasn't just the sky that appeared a little brighter. My mood did as well.
I started to shift from feeling overpowered to empowered as I realized three things:
Just because I feel it doesn't make it real.
Just like I felt the sun was gone but it was very much still there, I might feel like I'm not doing anything well, but it doesn't make it true. The fact that I have weaknesses doesn't make everything about me weak. I have plenty of strengths.
All I have to do is ask a couple of my friends or my family members to help me see what I do well. I can celebrate those, and then get a plan for bettering things that need improvement. I can start by identifying one thing to improve on this month. And do a little toward making that one thing better.
There are a lot of people who would trade their best day for my worst day.
Yes, I have a lot to manage. And yes, sometimes things get a little foggy. But that doesn't mean I have to stay swallowed up in the grey. That means I need to get my head above the clouds and see all the many places where the sun is shining brightly in my life. So, I can start making a list of things for which I need to be thankful.
My mind needs some space to think.
If I always run at a breakneck pace, I'm eventually going to break. My mind is a powerful tool, capable of seeing things that can be done more efficiently and effectively if I give myself time to think. When is the last time I just sat quietly with a pen and paper and asked the Lord to help me think?
As 2 Corinthians 12:9 teaches, God's power is made perfect in weakness. When I'm sinking in thoughts of inadequacy and plans to relocate out west, I remember that my ability is not based on what I can do. My ability and strength come from the One who can do all things. With the Lord working in me and through my weaknesses, I can feel the transformation from being overpowered to empowered taking place.
If the clouds have been looming close lately, maybe it's time to stop. Pause. Lift your eyes to an altitude that can rearrange your attitude.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Feeling overpowered by your own toxic thoughts? Learn more about combatting that negative inside chatter with Lysa's book Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy!
:angel: :angel:
May 02, 2013 01:10 am | Vanessa Dorsey
Lord, when you favored me,
You made my royal mountain stand firm;
But when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.
(Psalm 30:7 NIV)
Wife. Mother. Friend. Registered Nurse. Volunteer.
Of all the roles I've known in my thirties, the one I was least prepared to hear God speak to my heart was Leader. This sudden whisper, loud as it was, seared my heart forever. Leadership was unfamiliar so I resisted until one morning, months later, I finally came undone. He was calling me away from nursing to lead in ministry...something I never imagined myself doing. I wept as His peace filled my heart.
As I gaze into my autumn backyard, I pause. He took this ordinary girl and did something extraordinary with my life. I get it now. God takes those "less likely" and turns us inside out if we'll let Him. It's breathtakingly beautiful what happens in this great romance between Creator and created...Crucified and called...Lover of souls and the lost. He mends and blends, transforming us and spilling out of our regular lives.
A year ago I chose to step down from this God-whispered calling as my third daughter arrived. I have struggled almost every day. Like the Psalmist, God's favor made me strong and His purpose was my royal mountain! I was standing firm in His presence and power. It was clear. I was certain.
Now I'm dismayed.
I see the reality of change all around. Leaves, once green with life, now a blaze of color as they fall to the hard earth. I wonder does nature fight against the changing of seasons? Does it know that when things feel dry and dead it's only preparation? Do the trees sway in consternation or surrender? Do the leaves swirl in confusion or expectation? Have they accepted what I cannot? A God of changing seasons has my future in sight even as He lets me wither.
He trained us first, passed us like silver through refining fires,
Brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very
Limit, Road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back;
Finally he brought us to this well-watered place.
(Psalm 66:10-12 The Message)
Now my autumn backyard is one of bare branches and crispy, gray grass. Winter has come and with it understanding. Seasons must change for new things to grow. God brings us to an end only to begin again. He takes who we are in one season and sifts our heart...presses...leads us through refining fire...to prepare us for the next.
Like Silver.
The end of a season is not our end. Not when we love Him. When we are willing to travel hardscrabble country with Jesus we will, in time, find rest. We'll come upon this well-watered place where new dreams and callings can grow in our lives because we are different. Refined.
Maybe your winter seems especially long and harsh. Perhaps you can easily count the blessings in your life and yet discontent is reigning. Maybe your heart is still clinging to a season that has ended. You can't let go. It's frustrating and hard. You're tired.
May I encourage you?
God has not forgotten you. Your dreams and passions are not wasted. Perhaps Jesus is asking you to blindly follow...To let the cold of discontent drive you into the warmth of His embrace...To let the unknown of tomorrow bring you into His presence today...To let all you want and need of this life give way to wanting and needing Him more.
In time the meaning of it all will be reflected in your silver.
By Vanessa Dorsey, MixedMotives
:angel: :angel:
This is What (in)RL Means to YOU!
May 04, 2013 02:03 am | incourage
Reading your words–your brave, honest, heart-deep, heart-full words–about (in)RL has been such a gift. You all are amazing and lovely, and we love seeing the many ways you stepped out in faith, connected with soul sisters and made the choice to stay in community–no matter what that looked like.
If you haven't had a chance to take a look at the dozens of posts describing (in)RL experiences around the world, head over there this weekend.
One of the best parts about reading through post after post about women gathering and connecting is seeing how many of you share similar stories. You were nervous, you were excited, you were afraid nobody would show up. You heard us talk about small being the new big, but you wondered why more people weren't RSVPing for your gathering. You scrubbed floors and baked cupcakes, and you ignored piles and dust and let children create centerpieces. You had breakthroughs and heart-to-hearts. You cried tears of laughter and pain and oh-she-gets-me.
Your (in)RL meetups were everything you hoped for–and nothing you expected. And they were all beautiful. We've gathered some of your reflections here. Enjoy!
God used good community to heal me from bad community. I bear the scars of broken community, but they tell the story of healing. It took time, friends. Times of good and times of hard but mainly just time. And love. Then I met these girls, and we were transparent and real and community to each other.
Kaitlyn, It Just Takes One
People on the Internet are amazing. I could not have survived this last year without my sisters from around the web and without their unwavering care and prayer-words for me. But I also could not have survived the last year without the women here in my Sunday-Saturday life, the ones who plunge their tired hands into a sink full of suds and wash my dishes.
Sarah Markley
I learned a lot that afternoon. I listened to some amazing women speak truth right into our hearts. But the biggest lesson that I learned was that when Jesus is present, we do not need to be afraid. And He was there, in the warm smiles and welcoming hugs. He was there, teaching us that if we follow Him, there is nothing to fear.
Vicki Thunstrom
We all long to understand and be understood. That's what community is about – coming together and choosing to understand, even in the hard times.
Anna Radchenko
The women who showed up? They really showed up, hearts open and ready for filling. And God? He did not disappoint. He showed up too. Those hearts met in real life, and Real Life met our hearts there.
Anna, Girl with Blog
We chose to show up. My sisters were brave and chose to meet me. They were gracious as I stumbled through telling them why I love this community so much. And we choose now to stay. To pursue one another, encourage one another. To live life together. Because life together with my sisters is immeasurably more beautiful than I could ever begin to imagine.
Crystal Stine
(in)RL 2013 for me was nothing like the testimonials I read on (in)courage or like the video clips from last year where people talk about the amazing new bonds they formed with total strangers, who went on to become new friends. (in)RL 2013 was nothing like I expected, but everything that God wanted it to be. And, I am so grateful.
Elizabeth Anne, Seasons with Soul
What a breath of fresh air to be able to gather with sisters and just be. No need to try to impress anyone or be something I wasn't. I learned a lot about myself on Saturday too: I am brave. I do know how to make friends. A group of women who have Christ in common have the most important commonality there is. And if you put enough glaze on it, no one will care that the top broke off the chocolate chip pound cake.
One Rebel Heart
Even after five hours we didn't finish view the videos, for one-by-one these precious women opened up and were brave and bared their hearts. They told of their struggles and fears. Some poured free with tears. I could see through to the pain they wanted free of and heart-heavy for them, I leaned toward Abba. "Let's pray." And this, the beginning of something new. Beginning the work of God knitting the hearts of His daughters together because together, we are better.
Michele-Lyn, A Life Surrendered
We introduced ourselves and everyone got prizes. I asked the questions, "What is community?" and "How do we find it?" Slowly the answers came. But then, the third question in, it happened ... that moment when we all knew, "This place is safe and I'm not alone."
Teri Lynne Underwood
We laughed. We listened. We talked about how God made us to be in real live community and why it is a blessing and sometimes so hard. I also ate the most amazing brownie in real life. Yes, I did.
As it turns out, we all have a story about community, staying or not staying, the blessings, and the challenges attached to the people we let in and out of our lives. Each of us could talk about this topic for hours because God made us to fit with other people in one way or another. He made us to need it. He also made us to learn from it.
Stacey Thacker, 29 Lincoln Avenue
You see, it wasn't just about being brave enough to show up at a stranger's house and risk interaction (in)RL. It wasn't just about drinking iced tea and eating baked potatoes with loads of toppings and strawberry spinach salad on the side. No. It was about the real me, seeing the real you, and connecting with one another because of the Jesus in us both.
Jacque Watkins
I didn't want to leave these women who made me feel perfectly loved in community. But the beauty is that I can come back. These women who live just moments from my home. It's a choice to be in community, and I want to make that choice to gather with these women, with all of the women whom God has placed in my life.
My life is richer, my heart full, because of community.
Barbie, My Freshly Brewed Life
The day didn't have to be perfect. My home didn't have to be spotless. The conversation didn't have to flow without any holding back. "Use this space, God. This is your home. Please, just use this space as you need today."
I was so nervous about people coming over. I just wanted them to feel at home here. "Just let them feel at home here," I prayed.
Amy Clare
We did discuss the videos a bit, and we shared... (this is when the feelings of failure can swoop right in!) I wanted to go deep. I wanted to get to the heart of the matter when it comes to Community and why we are or aren't connected in tight... If I am honest, I wanted the tears and the broken and the healing to follow... I wanted truth to reign supreme and love to be made manifest...
Sometimes I want the messy, when what He wants is the covering. Sometimes in order to get to the Real, it takes time... & that is ok... because the whole of the message of the day was the power of Staying.
Karrilee, Abiding Love Abounding Grace
——————-
Thank you, amazing sisters, for sharing your hearts and your stories with us. You are incredible and brave and beautiful, and we can't wait for our next opportunity to meet with you (in)RL, in Real Life.
:angel: :angel:
Confessions of a Secret Perfectionist
May 03, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
I've never been a "house" perfectionist, so to speak. I usually have piles of mail on my counters and a dish full of to-be-washed dishes. But I've been a eating and fitness perfectionist. I'm laughing as I write this because if you saw me or had dinner with me you'd shake your head. I've been a perfectionist in that there is something inside me that says if you can't do it with near perfection, you shouldn't do it at all.
You can't get a full hour of cardio in? You shouldn't even go to the gym. You ate a little too much over breakfast? Well there goes the rest of the day — might as well be a free-for-all.
I know this is wrong. So I admit I'm a secret perfectionist. A perfectionist-on-the-sly. It bleeds over into the way I expect my kids to act in public and what I think my home should look like when friends come to visit.
There is something in this culture that expects, or even demands, perfectionism.
We hover around Pinterest pins and images of perfect people and homes in magazines and we fill our eyes with the way a perfect family looks. We wonder if ours will ever look like that.
Maybe we even look at other bloggers and wonder why we don't have the eye for style or the ease at conversation like she does.
Why don't my kids behave like her kids?
Why does there always seem to be a pile of mail on my counter?
Why are there always little tiny legos in each corner of my house?
Why can't I get my frustration or eating or laundry under control?
When we fail, we often blame ourselves for not being strong enough or wise enough or a hardy-enough Christ follower. Sometimes we think we aren't a good enough mother, even.
Do you know what perfectionism is in reality?
It's self-legalism.
When the rule becomes more important than the relationship? That's legalism. When the why of the rule is lost because the keeping of the rule wins out? That's legalism.
The struggle of the perfectionist isn't necessarily being "hard on herself." I think it goes one step beyond that. Perfectionism is a form of self-legalism in which we impose unhealthy and unrealistic rules on our own selves. When we don't meet up to those standards? We punish ourselves with feelings of not being good enough and feelings of failure.
Perfect is a fallacy. There isn't such a thing. And when we hold on to that idea of "perfect" we hold on to something that isn't real and we try to control everything around us to make sure that happens.
Steinbeck wrote in East of Eden, "And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good."
Even Jesus doesn't expect perfect from us, yet we somehow twist our Christian lives around it to think He does. His whole message is that we can't be perfect and that He came to help us in our imperfection.
Only in recent months have I been able to wrap my brain around a more healthy view of self-care. Meaning, I'm choosing healthy foods without having to have a perfect food log. I'm exercising even if I only have 20 minutes. I'm still lacing up my Nikes and getting out there.
I'm admitting my humanity, it seems, on a daily basis. And in that, I'm releasing myself more and more into daily grace.
Are you a perfectionist? Do you have trouble with feeling like a failure when you aren't perfect?
:angel:
For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life,
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers,
nor things present, nor things to come,
Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature,
shall be able to separate us from the love of God,
which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
~Romans 8:38-39
:angel:
Are You Ready to Recapture the Wonder and Learn to Live Wonderstruck?
May 06, 2013 01:10 am | Margaret Feinberg
Margaret Feinberg spends most mornings with her good friends Coffee and God. Without Coffee, mornings would be difficult. Without God, life would be impossible.
You'll often find Margaret (puppy-in-tow) adventuring outdoors—she enjoys hiking, river rafting, and scanning the night sky for the Northern Lights and shooting stars. She boasts an exceptionally dry sense of humor that she attributes to her Jewish father. Married to Leif for almost a decade, Margaret's known for losing things like her sunglasses on her head, keys in her hand, or her phone for the 12th time in the same day. Luckily, Hershey hasn't been left anywhere... yet.
Always up for an adventure, Margaret is known to drive 50 miles to chase down a food truck and snag Groupons for skydiving on a whim. She prefers watching comedies and laughing until her tummy aches over doing sit ups.
Margaret's books and Bible studies include The Organic God, The Sacred Echo, Scouting the Divine and Wonderstruck. She writes about her adventures at margaretfeinberg.com and tweets from @mafeinberg.
***
I have a hunch that I'm not the only one who has misplaced the marvel of a life lived with God. Faith invites us into an enchanting journey with God—one marked by the mysteries of divine beauty, holy courage, irrepressible hope, and unending love. But in my own life, any sense of the expansiveness of God had faded. I was left with a faith that lacked color, tasting both stale and bland. I knew I needed God to reveal himself once again to awaken me from my sleep, to disturb me from my slumber.
Any sense of holy awe was replaced by unholy indifference. Hope diminished to a manageable emotion. Love became a fleeting expression in short supply. [Tweet this]
Ever felt that way?
If faith is a sea of possibilities, I stood ankle deep, baptized only in shallows of the reality of God. Yet I sensed the Spirit beckoning me to plunge into the cool, shadowy depths marked by indescribable beauty; those unforgettable moments of life that force the holding of breath one moment and the gasping of oxygen the next. Allured by the Spirit, I lunged forward to beckon God.
And I prayed for wonder.
Sometimes the simplest prayers prove to be the most dangerous. If I had known what I was asking or how God would answer, I don't know if I would've had the courage to make the request.
Palms extended, wide-eyed with expectation, I waited for an answer. God did not disappoint. A prayer for wonder asks the Lord to reveal himself in greater measure and hold nothing back, and remains one of those prayers for which God doesn't say "no". [Tweet this]
Who knew such a simple prayer could be so powerful?
God responded in the most unusual ways, ones that filled me with a sense of astonishment and awoke me to the reality of his presence. I still relish the striking and curious ways God answers. The means God employed to awaken me to the beauty awaiting in the most mundane moments of life. The process God uses to transform my hollowness to hallowedness.
People entered and reemerged in my life who expanded my understanding of God and grace. My attention was acutely drawn to patterns and particulars in Scripture I'd never seen before. Whenever God answers a prayer for wonder, the tone and tenacity with which we live our lives and express our faith changes.
Holiness beckons. Divine expectation flourishes. Gratitude abounds. Hope returns. [Tweet this]
We do not have to remain asleep to the presence of God. We can awake, toss back the covers, climb out of bed, and seize the fullness of life that God intended for us. We can live alert to the wonders all around us that increase our desire to know God more.
My hope is that before you ever flip open the first page of Wonderstruck: Awaken to the Nearness of God, that you will stop, drop, and pray for wonder.
Then live wide-eyed to the ways God want to reveal Himself to you in your home, in your workplace, in your child's eyes and words, in your friendships, in every moment of this gift called life.
Will you join me in reawakening to wonder?
Here's a glimpse of the trailer from the Wonderstruck 7-Session DVD Bible study just so you can see a little bit more about what praying for wonder can do in your life:
A Sneak Peek At Wonderstruck from Margaret Feinberg on Vimeo.
(Subscribers, view the video, here)
***
Margaret Feinberg's newest book, Wonderstruck: Awaken to the Nearness of God released at Christmas 2012. You can find it here. Read more from Margaret at margaretfeinberg.com.
This week, we are giving away 5 copies of Wonderstruck! Just tell us one way that you've been wonderstruck by goodness of God in the comments below. We'll announce giveaway winners on Friday.
Join us this Wednesday as we explore what it means to Live in God's Presence.
:angel:
Beauty marks
May 07, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
Mama was sick my entire memory of her but I can still see that time she was draped in an amethyst gown, and through the mystery and magic of a fall, her hair was transformed into that of a Greek goddess. She was the most exquisite creature I'd ever seen. I remember petting her side and her caution not to get her dress dirty.
When beauty is that close you can't help but want to touch it.
It was ritual to sit next on the floor next to her bed, spellbound and legs outstretched, listening to Mama's future predictions: In 1982 you'll be crowned Miss America .... My sister would earn the title a year or two before me. It was easy to believe because all little girls want to be a princess and I had seen Mama dressed like one that time.
Sometimes I wonder if it was Mama who seeded my belief that every girl needs a Princess Dress. More than anything though, her insistence that beauty grew from the inside out shaped my perspective. When I was six or seven years old, Mama was already beginning to wire how one day I would parent my own children.
I doubt Mama realized how far her words and actions would reach into my future. Did she have any idea that sometimes what you say or do sticks forever and can even seep into generations not yet born?
No matter how many people try to prepare you, what you really don't understand before having children – simply c.a.n.n.o.t. understand – is how hard motherhood is.
I glance in my rear view mirror and see the Things I Wish I Had Done right next to the Things I Wish I Hadn't Done. If I'm not careful, I'll melt quickly into a puddle of regret and doubt.
Then I consider my children – now 20, 18 and 16. They're becoming who we prayed they'd become before they were born. Lovies, when you're bone-weary and wondering, I promise your intention, diligence and training in the way they should go is worth it.
Every once in a while I'll receive a paycheck from one of my kids, compensation that doesn't translate to dollars in my checking account. Instead, b e t t e r, a treasure of incalculable value. It usually starts like this:
"Mom, I'm so glad you..."
and they'll tell me something about they way we parent or a decision we made or something different from the parenting style of their friends' parents. It doesn't mean we're better parents, but in whatever the particular case, what we did made a difference for our child.
One of these things I got right for my daughter but I missed for my son: the redemption of a perceived physical imperfection.
Like my own mother, I've taught my children "pretty is as pretty does" and beauty goes deeper than skin and though people may judge others by what they look like, [the Lord] judges people by what is in their hearts (a paraphrase of 1 Samuel 16:7). That's all well and good - it's even true! – but we're bound by our skin suits and we can be awfully harsh critics of ourselves or self conscious about the ways we're different from others.
When I was little, a mole developed on the side of my nose and I thought it was a pimple. I squished and poked that thing until it was a bloody mess, doing my best to get rid of it. Eventually, I realized it wasn't going anywhere but I always felt like it was a flashing neon sign. (Decades later it's still right where it was, but thankfully I rarely notice anymore.)
When my daughter was barely in grade school, I noticed a small freckle on the side of her nose. Haunted by the memory of my own experience, I was concerned one day she would notice her freckle and feel ugly. Like mine, it was right in the middle of her face.
I took a different approach, telling her from a young age how much I loved her beauty mark. Less conspicuous was a birthmark on her thigh, and I would often touch it and reiterate how much I liked her special marks. As she got older, I told her she would know her husband was "the one" when a special fella declared her nose freckle was one of his favorite things about her.
I often told her how pretty she was but praised her more so when she behaved beautifully–when she defended someone being picked on, befriended the friendless, babysat for friends with younger children so we could have adult time when they came over.
She gave me a paycheck recently when she told me she was so glad I had framed the way she looked at her beauty mark–that we called it a beauty mark in the first place!–and that she thought she would have seen it differently (negatively) had I never mentioned it.
It's equally crucial to call out and affirm things about our boys, too. They want to be viewed as handsome and strong — think about how little boys ask you to feel their (non-existent) muscles! — and if they don't receive that kind of encouragement at home, like our daughters, they'll seek it elsewhere.
But even though I got this right with my daughter, I missed "redeeming" a perceived imperfection of my son. Out of respect for his privacy, I won't go into the details; there are simply some things he doesn't like about his physical appearance. Because to me it doesn't detract from him, it never occurred to me to frame how he viewed those physical characteristics.
There's no way of knowing if I could have altered his negative perception but I sure wish I had tried.
No matter how much we downplay physical beauty, there's something in us that longs to be seen as beautiful, as handsome.
If you're a mother, do you understand your power?
Mama, her frail body withered by cancer, dared to dream out loud with her little girls, imagining Princess Tales so we would feel beautiful. She told stories about our future that we could cling to long after she was gone and as long as we needed to.
She framed the way we viewed ourselves, outside and in. She made sure we knew which one counted the most while not insulting us by claiming the other one didn't exist or matter.
A mother's influence survives her own life and touches the future through her impact in her children's lives.
The way a mother sees her children can change the way they see themselves.
A mother heals with her touch, a boo-boo kiss, her soothing voice.
Heroic superpowers worthy of a cape and a tiara...but a mom is thrilled with – even prefers – a potted marigold decorated in thumbprint art and a hand-made card.
True beauty is unmistakable.
:::::::
By Robin Dance who might need a hug–her second baby and first-born son is graduating next week!
:angel:
Find What Feeds Your Heart
May 08, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
I walk through the door bone weary, head throbbing, searching for the nearest flat surface so I can sink into silence. I feel depleted, drained, tired in a way that makes my heart echo with emptiness.
Another day I walk through the door worn out but not worn down, ready for a nap but also ready to get up and go for it again, smiling even through the physical fatigue that tugs at every part of my body. My energy tank is empty but my heart is full.
One task depleted me–like a sugar crash after too much junk food.
The other filled me up–like a satisfying meal that makes you lean back in your chair and sigh with new strength.
Here's the catch: both looked like great opportunities on the outside.
But one was not for me.
And the next time it came around, I turned down another helping. That's hard for us as women {at least it is for me}. Saying "no" to what looks enticing and sweet even though we know it will ultimately not nourish us can be difficult to do. And yet discovering what truly feeds our hearts is essential.
"My food," said Jesus, "is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish His work" {John 4:34}.
What God truly has for us to do on this earth will fill us up deep inside. Oh, yes, we will get tired sometimes along the way. We will have struggles and face obstacles. But what He has for us is not meant to leave us continually empty.
Be careful if you're working hard "for God" and your heart feels hungry all the time.
Stop and ask Him, "Is this really, truly what You have for me? Have I taken in or taken on something You never intended?"
How do we even know what's God's will is?
Part of the process is that we are to "test and approve it" {Romans 12:2}. You might even say "taste and approve it" because just like your body knows what is good, your heart does too. But that only comes through experience.
So don't be afraid to try what's in front of you. Have a bite. Then see what happens.
Is it nourishing?
Soul filling?
Life giving?
Then have some more, my friend. But if it's not, it's okay to push the plate away or pass it on to someone else {because what feeds each of us is different}. You'll know when you've found what you need. You'll "taste and see that the Lord is good." {Psalm 34:8}.
And what He gives is good for you.
"Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live." {Isaiah 55:2-3}.
God offers something better than a busy, full life.
He offers life to the full.
XOXO
–Holley Gerth, author of You're Made for a God-sized Dream
:angel:
For When You Feel Jealous
May 10, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
A few weeks ago, I shared something with a group of (in)courage readers here—something raw and organic, something a bit stream-of-consciousness, but still pressing searing hot into my forehead for several weeks prior. I couldn't not share it with someone, and these gals were the recipients due to nearest online proximity that day.
This was something simmering in my heart, particularly how it related to community and the friendships birthed from it: JEALOUSY. Ugly, schoolgirl-feeling jealousy. It's embarrassingly easy to feel jealous of the skinny minnie in cute jeans at church, or the mom who has that amazing house with the high-end kitchen appliances. But I confess that where I—until recently—felt it run rampant in my heart was on the good ol' Internet.
I've been blogging for five years, and I had never really struggled with feelings of jealousy until the past few months. Watching other lovely bloggers who have a true gift with words do amazing things with their platform, who seem to feel so confident in their voice and their audience, who seem to make blogging look so easy, who seem to have shown up to the field out of nowhere and immediately start hitting homeruns out of the park...
My mind wanted to freely and wildly applaud for them with standing ovation, but deep down, my heart hurt. It hurt because I wished blogging were so easy for me, too, but really? It hurt because I wanted this jealousy clean and free from my life.
This temptation toward jealousy hit me like an unexpected wave in the midst of rolling water, and it left me choking a bit, complete with that icky saltwater taste in my mouth. But right when I thought it'd overcome me into inaction, Jesus met me exactly in my time of need.
When I sensed that wave of jealousy heading near, he'd point me to something He said in the Word, or to something a friend bravely wrote on her blog, or He'd simply orchestrate my day so that all I could do was lean into His calling and just be.
Here are the particular things that have helped free me from this recent, unexpected bout of jealousy.
1. Truth.
Specifically, the verse that came to mind time and time again was Matthew 11:28: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." This doesn't speak specifically about jealousy, but it had been my heavy labor, and this simple verse was my reminder to find rest from the waves in Jesus. And that I would find that rest when I come to Him.
2. A good word.
This post by my friend and fellow (in)courage girl Emily Freeman spoke volumes to me. It reminded me that God had given me my slice of calling to steward, just as he's given you, and you, and you. He is calling me to do well with what He's given me. And if I'm really honest, I can admit that I really like my slice. I don't want any more. It's abundant.
3. Say thanks.
To be offline, away from where the waves come crashing toward my heart, and instead list out the many, many blessings in my life. The tree in my yard blooming pink. My kids playing with the cardboard boxes. The light hitting the floor just so as the sun rises. A literal list of gratitude lifted my heart and freed me from a temptation towards jealousy.
4. Give.
Finally, born out of thanksgiving came a heart free to give. It wasn't much—a simple offer of advice, time to listen, clean counters or laundry folded with no expectation of thanks, a shout from my rooftop of another friend's stellar online work, a happy answer to a question. Once I was released from jealousy, I focused more on how I could serve rather than fester an ugly spirit of wondering why I wasn't being served.
It was freedom to enjoy what was already given to me in abundance, then finding creative ways to share it with others.
It's human to struggle with things like jealousy, but what's superhuman is the ability to rise above it. And thanks be to God, we've been given that strength in abundance, right when we need it.
How do you struggle with jealousy?
by Tsh of Simple Mom
:angel:
When I Became a Mother
May 11, 2013 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard
He came out quietly. There were whispers from the doctors. There was a terrifying tension that filled the room.
After the doctors did a quick evaluation, Steve, my husband, brought David over to me and laid this tiny, swaddled baby on my chest. He was adorable. He had a full head of hair, blue eyes and a button nose.
He also had only two fingers on his left hand, a severe heart defect and, we would soon find out, a genetic disorder that would make life look very different for our new baby.
The day my son was born was the day I began to learn that being a mom was about sacrifice. For me, being a new mom meant g-tube feeds, surgery, doctor visits and sleepless nights.
But most of all, being a new mom meant opening my heart to a new kind of love. This little man came into my life and turned it upside down. He made me better. He made me less selfish.
David makes the sunshine brighter and the stars twinkle at night. He made me a mother, and I love him more than words can say.
Psalm 139:14: I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
I know for many of you motherhood is not what you expected. Maybe it's been more challenging than you thought it would be {it's definitely been harder than I thought!}. Or maybe you've loved deeper than you ever thought possible.
Share with us one way being a mother has changed you. Or if you're not a mother, share one special thing your mother did that shaped you
:angel:
A Mother's Day Scripture & Video
May 12, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
This Mother's Day video – click to view – is based on a blog post written by our very own Lisa-Jo Baker. May it encourage and remind you that:
There are those who say this is ordinary.
Don't buy that for a second.
You are mighty, because you mother.
Therefore, my dear 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 Corinthians 15:58
And for you, those of you without moms, please feel our prayers wrapped around you today and these words tenderly offered:
25 truths for the motherless daughter to hold onto this weekend
Mother's Day for the motherless daughter
Happy Mother's Day. Every single woman who loves, sacrifices, encourages, tends, cares, raises, praises, shapes, forms, nurtures and releases the people who become part of the next generation, no matter how you came to be connected with them, is mighty, and your labor is not in vain.
Thank you for all that you are and all that you do.
Love,
The (in)courage team
:angel: :angel:
Searching For All the Lost Child Artists
May 13, 2013 01:10 am | Matt Appling
Matt Appling is a former child artist turned art teacher, pastor and writer. His work is helping children and adults in creative and spiritual pursuits.
His first book, Life After Art, was released by Moody Publishers April 2013 and explores the intersection of life, faith, and becoming the people God made us to be. Matt can be found every week at his blog.
***
Little hands, dancing around the paper. Faces smiling with gaps where baby teeth are missing. Chalk and paint and bits of colored paper swirling around.
I stand in the middle of the room and just take it all in. The noise, the mess, the chaos of pure, innocent creating.
The day I became an art teacher changed my life. I was a natural child artist. But the years and worries of adult life had made me long forget what it was like to be a child sitting in the elementary school art room, experiencing the simple, innocent pleasure of creating.
The children were all so carefree, so joyful. They were so eager to share what they had created, with each other, with me, with their families. As blank paper was filled with color, I discovered a sense of worship, a feeling of the divine in that room. It was profound.
All those little kindergartners came into my art room, absolutely perfect. I wasn't teaching them to be artists. They already were artists.
But an even bigger revelation was waiting for me as the older children came into my classroom. Second graders, fourth graders, sixth graders. It wasn't just that their bodies were bigger or that their brains held more knowledge, or that their hands were more coordinated.
Somehow, quite unexpectedly, the older the students grew, the further they grew away from their kindergarten counterparts, the less free they seemed to act in the art room. The oldest students were not proud of their work the way the children half their age were. They did not make bold strokes of the brush with confidence. They went timidly, fearfully. It was as if some kind of invisible shackles had attached themselves to their hands. The bigger the hands, the less confidently they created.
The child artists who entered my room weren't growing...
...they were disappearing.
And as I watched, I realized that every class of students was a mirror in which I saw my own reflection. I suddenly saw myself as a five-year-old, feet dangling from my chair, creating freely, generously, joyfully. I saw myself as an eight-year-old, growing in abilities but shrinking in confidence. I saw myself as a twelve-year-old, a mere shell of my child self, invisible shackles and all.
I realized that you, me, and nearly every adult around us have been living as former child artists for years, decades without realizing it. And the loss of our identities as child artists has shaped the way we see ourselves, the world, our faith and our purpose profoundly negative ways ever since then.
That is the heart behind Life After Art. This isn't a book about becoming "artists," or getting tips on becoming more creative or futilely trying to make your life look like your Pinterest boards. It's about becoming the human that God created you to be. In fact, if you don't consider yourself "artsy" or creative, you'll find out that this book is exactly for you.
I have spent so many years wondering what my purpose is in life, desperately afraid that I missed God's calling for me. And what I discovered is that it's not about growing up and learning something new, but looking back and re-learning what was given to us by our Creator...something that we somehow forgot a long time ago.
GIVEAWAY: I am so happy to be giving away five copies of Life After Art to you lovely readers this week. All you have to do is answer the same question I ask every student on the first day of school: "Do you think of yourself as a great artist?" You'll find in the book that it doesn't matter what the answer is! Check back on Wednesday for another chance to win.
I hope you'll come visit me soon. You can find me on my blog or social media or watch the video preview and the first chapter of Life After Art right now! You can also purchase a copy of Life After Art here.
:angel:
God's Help Through Loss
Jesus 'Keeps Me Going'
May 14, 2013 01:20 am | Jessica Turner
It's been a hard few months for me. Some days, it has been a struggle to just keep my chin up and keep going.
If someone asked you what keeps you going, what would you say?
I imagine answers like:
I get enough sleep each night.
Eating healthy.
Perseverance.
Maybe even some I don't knows.
I think I would maybe say an inner drive to live life well and make the best of things, no matter what. Life is a gift.
What I don't think I would say is Jesus. At least, I don't think I would have said that until recently.
Can I say that here on (in)courage?
{gulp}
I love Jesus as Lord and Savior of my life, but until recently, I never really thought about my relationship with Him being what keeps me going.
Here's what caused my shift in thinking.
For the past two months, I've working on the social media efforts to spread the word about a cool new album called Everybody Has a Story. The songs were written by former and current patients at Monroe Carell Jr. Children's Hospital at Vanderbilt and sung by some of the best musicians in the business, like Faith Hill, Amy Grant and Vince Gill. One of the songs on the album was written by a girl named Erica Kilburn, a cancer patient who is now with Jesus.
While in the hospital, she covered her room's walls with scripture.
That alone humbles me.
What a powerful picture of someone who loved the Word so much that she blanketed in her hospital room with its truths.
Her music therapist Jenny Plume asked Erica about how she fights her disease and what keeps her so positive. Erica told Jenny, "Jesus is what keeps me going." Those words inspired a beautiful song, sung on Everybody Has a Story by Melinda Doolittle. Read the lyrics below, which are a mix of Erica's story and scripture, or listen to the song in this video.
Health to your marrow and moistening to your bones
Sing like a sparrow cuz you're not alone
The joy of the Lord is my strength this I know
This is why I hold on
My lips shall greatly rejoice when I sing to you
Oh taste and see that the Lord is good
Give and it shall be given to you
Under his promise I feel strong
Arise take up your bed and walk with me
I once was blind but now I see
All this scripture brings courage to me
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah he's what keeps me going
All things are possible through Christ who strengthens me
If I drink any deadly thing it won't harm me
Your healing shall spring forth speedily
And I will praise you and you alone
Arise take up your bed and walk with me
I once was blind but now I see
All this scripture brings courage to me
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah he's what keeps me going
You thought it would keep me down
But I keep going stronger and stronger
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah, he's what keeps me going
Arise take up your bed and walk with me
I once was blind but now I see
All this scripture brings courage to me
Jesus is what keeps me going
Yeah he's what keeps me going
Today, embrace Jesus. He will keep you going. Wherever you are. Whatever your struggles. He is with you.
By Jessica Turner from The Mom Creative
:angel: :angel:
May 14, 2013 01:10 am | Maryann
The ultrasound technician wrapped us in comfort with her warm British accent and her kind words:
"It wasn't anything you did, dear...this is just nature's way..."
That evening, I told my friend, Kate, that I was sad and confused...but also okay. Maybe I was in shock, I suggested, or too numb to feel. She told me not to analyze that calm feeling but to just accept it as God's peace. With her words, I was released to lean into that peace – into a God who was good, I knew.
Over the next few days I tried to sort out my theology. I thought, This was meant to be, but the phrase surely didn't sit well in my heart. I tried, The timing wasn't right, but I knew the timing had been perfect. Our firstborn son, Isaac, was almost three. The time it took for us to become pregnant with our second seemed very long. Surely the Lord wouldn't give us something we had prayed for, then change His mind or decide it wasn't the right time.
The Lord brought comfort to my mind while I was reading a book one morning. I realized, sickness is not from God, death is not from God. This loss wasn't from God. He didn't author it for our family.
With that treasure placed in my heart, I leaned into Him more... into His rest, even released from asking "why."
And my hope grew. If this loss wasn't from God, if indeed it was actually carried to the cross with Jesus, buried, and resurrected, then this loss could be redeemed... somehow. I don't fully understand my hope but I know it's a key the Lord has given me. It's a promise to hold onto tightly when I'm afraid... when I start thinking, Well, if this could happen, surely many other bad things could happen, too. There is something about the blood of Jesus poured out for healing, in the face of death, which I must hold onto. In this truth, He will overcome... somehow.
After the ultrasound, after we saw there was no heartbeat and the baby had died, we waited for my body to miscarry "naturally." When I miscarried, there was nothing natural about it. The contractions came in waves under my belly, just like when Isaac was born. I remembered, with Isaac, being empowered by those waves of pain that birthed life. I grieved as the familiar contractions birthed only death.
And still I know this loss was not from God; surely He must bring a victory.
In this ending, I'm hoping forward into life.
By Maryann, dailyparable
:angel:
Becoming Content With How God Created Us
May 15, 2013 01:10 am | Matt Appling
Matt Appling is a former child artist turned art teacher, pastor and writer. His work is helping children and adults in creative and spiritual pursuits.
His first book, Life After Art, was released by Moody Publishers April 2013 and explores the intersection of life, faith, and becoming the people God made us to be. Matt can be found every week at his blog.
***
Can I confess something?
I struggle with contentment. That one word is the probably the most elusive in my life. Everyone has something that constantly evades and escapes them in their life. Contentment is mine.
It isn't that I'm not thankful. No, this is a struggle that makes me wonder if I'm doing enough, if God is happy with me, if my life means something. It makes my brain click on in the middle of the night and says, "Wake up, Matt! You're a failure!" No joke. My brain thinks 3 am is the best time to dissect all of my life decisions.
It isn't that I'm not content with my life or my family.
I struggle to be content with myself.
And the more I confess it, the more I discover that I'm not alone. I find good friends at church who are secretly afraid that they have wasted their lives. I find people at work or new acquaintances online who just don't think they're good enough.
In fact, I don't have to go any further than the art classroom where I teach to find all the discontentment in the world.
Let's see, who's coming in? Fifth graders. Perfect.
These fifth graders are so different than they were in first grade or kindergarten. Their cares and worries have multiplied. They no longer look at themselves through the lens of how God sees them, but through the lens of how their peers see them. Everything is image.
And for such big kids, they seem so helpless. Not like the five-year-olds.
The boys don't think they are talented enough. Some of them scribble around on the paper, deflecting attention from their perceived inadequacies by performing below their talents.
And the girls...the girls are much more verbal. They put themselves down so much, it breaks my heart to hear them. The girls at this age spend so much time putting themselves down, criticizing themselves. Their souls are hunched over, weighed down with self-doubt and every kind of anxiety imaginable.
And in a few short years, they will be adults like you and me, still struggling to be content with themselves, still lacking the confidence to go and act boldly in the world because they don't think they are good enough.
I ask them to stop working.
"Where does all of our talent come from?" I ask.
"God," they answer.
"If God made us, and gave us all of the talents that He wanted us to have..." I pause a little, "How much sense can it make to complain about how God made us, to tell God that He didn't do a good enough job?"
And suddenly, I realize that I'm preaching a little sermon that I desperately need to hear myself. Another one. Really, every little message and pep talk and sermon I'm giving the kids is something that I've forgotten how to live and am trying to re-learn, one baby step at a time. Along with these children, I'm trying to slowly realize that we have enough, we are enough. We are exactly what God wanted us to be. We just have to discover how God actually created us in the first place.
Reaching that discovery of how God created us is what Life After Art is all about. It's the journey I'm taking, and I hope you'll take it with me. Let's recover the life and faith we were created to live, by rediscovering the children we used to be.
Did you miss out on your first chance to win a copy of Life After Art? No problem! For another chance to be entered, just comment on this post, anonymously if you prefer, by filling in the blank: "I wish I could be content with _____." We're giving away 5 copies total this week.
I hope you'll come visit me soon. You can find me on my blog or social media or watch the video preview and the first chapter of Life After Art right now! You can also purchase a copy of Life After Art here.
:angel:
Kingdom Come: On Learning to Enjoy
May 16, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
When we spent what felt like 40 days and 40 nights in the hospital with our son last summer, many came to us and said, "God is so good; He's going to heal your son." And we struggled with that, thinking what if He doesn't heal him? Will he not still be good then? We hated that season for how sick our child was, but in another way, we had actually come to love the limbo – that liminal space between keeping and losing, rock and hard place – because it was where we experienced God.
Miscarriages and loss of dreams and loved ones have been painful places, too, where I have heard God whisper loudest His goodness and grace. It has been the pain that has ushered in the eagle wing and His ever presence. Jesus and I have seen some hard, dark days together, and I wouldn't trade the beauty of His friendship in for less pain.
But something strange has happened the past few months. Actually everything is strange since I've given in a little more to Him. One blaring super freaky thing has happened, and I have to say that I've wrestled with it.
It's embarrassing, but I think I feel happy. For Mother's Day I ate a hole-in-the-wall lunch with my husband and my four boys, and the carnitas en salsa verde was so good and my boys were so sweet that I cried. We sold a house and are moving to a place that I love. Things rarely just go well. The truth is that it's making me super itchy, and I'm having to work hard to keep guilt at bay.
It's as if I actually crave the darker days a little, as if friendship were made only for the ones struggling. But what I'm learning is that Jesus Christ is a multidimensional Savior Friend. Sometimes I walk with Him and chat His face off. Sometimes we're just together, and it's pretty quiet. Sometimes He says go and do something, and He leads me in it. And sometimes He is simply smiling at me, saying "Let's enjoy."
I know I haven't earned a smidge of it, so I know that it can all be taken away, and even then He would still be a good God. But part of becoming a friend of Jesus is trusting Him to brace me for pain. It's all an unveiling of my desire to control my own life. Maybe I think that if I'm doing pain well, then I'm winning. I wonder if it's just another way to feel that I can earn my position with Him.
These are not dark days. The birds have been singing, and even though Jesus' love does not add up to whether or not I like my house, He is asking me to let myself enjoy. He's asking me to not fret about losing, to walk with Him in some actual glad things, and to trust Him in it all.
I'm a girl who usually has a conflicted, twisty poet heart, but this season has shown me that Jesus knows exactly how I'm raveled. There's a back and forth about our relationship, because it's real. He doesn't just love me. He likes me. I feel His hand on my shoulder. His is a kingdom of all kinds of good, and I do indeed pray it: Come Jesus, in all the ways. Your glorious Kingdom come.
post by Amber C Haines
:angel: :angel:
Go
May 16, 2013 01:10 am | shadowwonder
Too many times,
it is my first instinct:
Go.
Get somewhere else,
any place
other
than where I am
here and now.
For here is a kitchen
half-empty of food and
full of undone dishes,
this morning's crumbs on the counter
and countless dinners to be made.
Now there are rooms
inhabited by people
who can't always live up
to my impossible expectations.
Behind their faces echo hallways of
unanswered questions, walls of
uninvited pain. And
just around the corner lay
challenges I'm not sure
I can navigate
very well.
Perhaps it would be better
if I go.
This going isn't
walking away.
(No.)
It's a striving to
alter the moment.
It's the suspicion
that a new and improved now
would be
shinier,
easier,
better.
The going I want to do is
a rejection of
what is,
a fear that
this here,
this now,
is somehow
beyond redemption.
But I must remember this:
To go
is to miss the
blessing of
this one life.
To go
is to be
somewhere else
instead of
here and now,
where God invites me to
stay, and
abide.
————————————–
Questions for reflection:
* Are there any parts of your life where you might be inclined to escape—even only mentally, emotionally, or spiritually?
* Where might God be nudging you towards being present during the realities of your day? How might you more steadily abide in Him during these moments?
* Where might He be encouraging you to recognize His hand (and, perhaps, even His blessing) in the midst of questions, pain, or other difficulties?
By: shadowwonder
:angel: :angel:
The Beautiful Life
May 17, 2013 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
My life is always a little crazy, but it is beautiful just the same.
I have three kids and a dog. My husband and I both work at home all day. We volunteer full time as leaders of a church plant while working full time on the side to pay the bills. My husband loves the background noise of music and TV shows. Our dogs barks at everything that goes down the street and frequently run through the house from window to window chasing people as they walk. While my girls are now college graduates and living mostly on their own, they still come home every weekend to work with us in our family businesses. My son is just entering his teen years. Our house is alive and loud with living.
My ears crave quiet, but my heart loves the sometimes chaotic evidence of God's goodness and blessing in our home.
I wouldn't trade the "noise" in my house for anything.
Remember when we talked about finding the right balance of "stuff"?
I am able to embrace a little happy clutter and noise because to me it means that the people I love are here, living a full and meaningful life and are serving God alongside me.
When I see stuff or things we love in our home, I see reminders of my family, their joy, their memories, their sweet presence in our life. Those things are beautiful to me! I love living surrounded by things I love.
I might appear to be a contradiction when I talk about the importance of living with "stuff" we love. I don't love junk, or excessive clutter, but I love the every day reminders of God's gifts and the evidence that life happens here. Those "things" are a part of the beautiful life God enables me to enjoy.
There is a balance between enjoying and living with what we love and having so much stuff that we can't care for or appreciate what we already have.
Too much stuff and we lose focus or become consumed by "things." We can begin to be overwhelmed or distracted by what we have rather than delighting in how God has provided.
My family is never really comfortable when our home is untidy, filled with clutter or actually dirty and in need of a good cleaning. Keeping up our home and eliminating excess and sharing what we have with others is part of our gratitude for what God has provided. While our housekeeping isn't perfect, we enjoy the daily ritual of cleaning and tidying up where we live. We feel better and more at peace when our home is somewhat in order.
As followers of Christ, our hope and treasure is in Heaven.
But God provides wonderful things in life for our enjoyment and we can find delight in living with His gifts and reminders of His own creative example.
I can imagine the joy on God's face when He created the beautiful peacock feathers, or the black and white graphic stripes of a zebra or the kaleidoscope of colors in the garden! He delighted in the variety and beauty of many things He created for our enjoyment!
Perhaps it seems contrary to my mostly quiet craving self, but I do love vibrant color and pattern and being surrounded by things I love. Color and pattern, composition and art just thrills my creative side! A few years ago my sister and I had the privilege of visiting the Musee D'orsay in Paris. I was in TEARS looking at the beauty of a Monet painting in that famous museum.
God is the author of creativity and I'm grateful for His gifts.
If it sounds like my life is filled with beauty, it is. But that is mostly because of how I choose to see it, not because my home or life is perfect or without mess or trials. We've had stress and losses and hurts and sickness and long periods of waiting on God's timing. But God is still good and worthy of praise, even when difficult things happen.
I remember a season when I was suffering from an anxiety disorder brought on by an extremely stressful situation. One of the lessons I learned through that dark season was that it was important to stop and smell the roses, to remember and appreciate the beautiful things God put in our life for our enjoyment, no matter what stinky things are going on around us! And even now when I can't smell the roses I pause to inhale deeply when I brew my morning coffee. Even the smell of good coffee is clear evidence of God's goodness, isn't it?
I want to embrace a beautiful life, whatever that might look like in this season of life, as a gift from God.
Amidst the trials or struggles we have faced or will undoubtedly face down the road, it is the beautiful things that should remind us that He is good, all the time.
And best of all, beautiful things we find around us now can be a glimpse of the even more beautiful life in store for us when we place our hope in Him.
1 Tim 6:17: Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.
:angel: :angel:
I Stole A Television... And Other Lessons In Generosity.
May 18, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
When I was 22 years old, I lived with a family of seven. A recent University of Georgia graduate, it was the summer between finishing my college experience and my first year of teaching elementary school.
I shared a bedroom with a baby girl and took the four older brothers to the pool as many days as possible. The parents were two of my best friends and their basement was overtaken by my homeless belongings, waiting for August to come around, when my new apartment was vacant and ready to be the place where I started being an adult.
During that summer, I found a Bible verse that seemed to say exactly what I was living.
Psalm 68:6
"God sets the lonely in families..."
I wasn't lonely in the "I need more friends in my life" kind of way. I tend to excel at masking any loneliness of that type by filling my life to the brim with events and people and things so that the common observer would assume I was BUSY BUSY BUSY AND HAPPY [whether true or not]. It's kinda my specialty. But no matter, if you are single and an adult [or possibly about to become one, as I felt that summer] there is a degree of alone-ness. And I have seen over and over in the last eleven years of this alone-ness that God has repeatedly set me in families. Generous families.
But this first one? The first family besides my nuclear family to make me one of their own? It is a generosity I will never forget and try to pay forward as much as I can.
When I moved out that August, this family of seven let me borrow their one and only television because I did not have one.
Can you imagine? Five children in your home and you let the college kid drive away with your only TV.
And for months, I kept that television, mainly just forgetting that I had it and should take it back. [Ahhh, the maturity and self-less thinking of my early 20s.]
I finally returned it, I'm embarrassed to tell you when...okay fine, it was Christmas.
Generosity, the real kind, gives until it is uncomfortable. That family was generous to the point of sacrifice – in basement space, in days, in household appliances, in loving me as one of their own.
And I have never been the same.
I've continued to be overly exposed to generosity. And I think I must sit around it every Sunday. During the offering, my pastor always thanks the congregation for "giving to the point that it hurts" and I scan the crowd trying to figure out who is actually doing that. Because they are there. It's just not me.
Yet.
I want to learn to give like that because I have seen, firsthand, how it changes a person. To be the recipient of undeserved generosity blooms something in your soul that cannot be wilted. And while you may sacrifice when you sow generosity, you will reap as well.
Proverbs 11:25
"A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed."
. . . . .
Who do you know that lives generously?
:angel:
I Sat on a Bench, So Now What?
May 20, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
The benches are rusting.
It's been three years since we put the benches in the grassy area of our cul-de-sac. Before we had them, I would watch my neighbors chat for a few minutes at their mailboxes, but never for long. They have lived here over 40 years and simply didn't have the energy to stand.
But after we bought those benches, the ladies in the cul-de-sac began to linger. I watched as they would meet at the benches and sit for hours. Sometimes I would sit with them. As they talked about their grown children, we watched as mine rode their bikes in circles around us.
They've been neighbors for decades and have always had things to talk about. But now, they had a bench to sit on together. Now I could join them, listen and ask questions – what they remember about the war, what they like to read, the weather.
It isn't that they didn't want to be together, but before it wasn't so easy. Now, they had a bench to sit on. It didn't give them something to talk about; it gave them a place to do it.
Last month, over 6,000 of you gathered in homes, coffee shops, churches and parks to celebrate in real life friendship – both new ones and old. In the keynote many of you watched Friday night before the worldwide meet-up day, I shared this story of the benches we put in our cul-de-sac.
Hostesses around the world opened their homes or made a little space in their day to invite those of you who live nearby to meet in real life. In other words, they made a bench for you.
People want to talk about things. They want to relate and live in community and converse and be together. Sometimes they just need a bench. They need a place to get the conversation started, a platform that allows them to linger and find one another.
But then what?
It's been a month since (in)RL and I hope some of you have stayed in touch with people you met at your various meetups. But there's a good chance many of you didn't. There's a good chance some of you went and simply didn't connect with the women who showed up.
There's also a good chance many of you didn't go at all because you are emotionally allergic to small talk and large groups of women.
Gathering for (in)RL is one kind of bench. But it certainly isn't the only kind.
I wrote a post on my blog, Chatting at the Sky, about why I hope you'll subscribe to my blog. My intention was not to get a lot of subscribers for numbers sake. My intention was to invite readers to subscribe because I see my blog as a bench.
I write because it's my way of seeing and sharing the world and I hope people will see something hopeful in the words, something that perhaps calls courage out from places within that have been forgotten.
My blog is a bench I hope you want to sit on.
We hope the same thing for this space here at (in)courage.
But not everyone will see it that way.
The day I wrote that post, I received a few emails from kind readers who honestly admitted they didn't feel like part of my community at all. I have too many readers (I can't possibly know them all), too many comments (I can't possibly respond to them all), and though they appreciated my writing, they simply see things from a realistic perspective.
They were right in one sense. And if I wrote a blog to become personal friends with everyone who reads, well then you might say I'm a miserable failure at building a bench.
The reality is, I can't personally connect with everyone who reads. I write and try to communicate honestly, I try to make these online spaces a comfortable place for people to come and connect in the small ways a blog will allow.
But my expectation of the benches I am building through writing books and a blog is not to make thousands of personal friends. Writing online can become this kind of community for some, but it isn't always.
That doesn't mean a blog or an (in)RL meeting aren't still benches. It simply means those can't be our only benches.
It's one thing to gather around a bench someone else is building – a blog or an in(RL) meeting or a small group hosted by someone at your church. I don't want to deny the courage it takes to attend these things.
Still, sitting on a bench may not be the only thing we need.
Because often times once you get there, you realize it isn't what you hoped it would be.
You realize it's harder to connect than you thought it might be.
You realize that people can be seriously hurtful.
Sometimes the benches get rusty.
This is the hard part. This is looking deep within ourselves and asking hard questions. We have to admit what we need and what we most long for. We have to grieve our disappointments and be honest about how others aren't meeting our expectations.
And we also may need to consider something else.
Instead of asking what you need, begin to consider what you have to offer.
Is that a scary question?
Do you believe you have something to offer?
Do you see a need for a different kind of bench in your own life?
Are you waiting for someone else to build it?
What if they're waiting for you?
:angel:
You Are The Brave Ones
May 21, 2013 01:20 am | Crystal Stine
Dear friends who build benches -
You are the brave ones, the ones who see a need and slide over to make room for your sister. You bring cupcakes and coffee and invite others in with a warm smile. You choose not to wait to be invited before building community. You look out your window and feel God nudging you to be the one – the one who invites, encourages, welcomes, because the woman down the street? On Twitter? Faithfully leaving comments on your blog? You've been where she is and you want to offer her a safe place to sit down, take a deep breath, and feel free to be herself.
The (in)courager leaders? They are bench builders. They welcome strangers from around the world into small group community. They plan, check in, pray over, cheer with, and love on. They are the women who hold open the doors and make room for one more. They stand aside and watch in awe as God shows up and does a good work.
Here are some of their own words, from our last session:
This group was amazing in so many ways. During this past session we had many tragedies that affected our group. As a result we bonded stronger than ever as prayer warriors, bombarding Heaven in behalf of our sister(s) who were struggling. We shared concerns and praises. We are a very strong group! Thank you, Lord!
It's been so beautiful to come together with women struggling with infertility (and those who have experienced it in the past) and pray, share our hearts, have a safe place among women. THANK YOU for opening this group–community can be hard for any woman, but infertile women can feel especially lost and isolated. Thank you for creating a space for us to come together.
I love this. So much. It has helped me be brave enough to connect deeply with women in real life. To share my own hauntings and be a safe place for others struggling to survive each day as a mum.
I am so thankful God encouraged me to go another round and stick with this community thing. He blessed me and taught me so much this time around. This group has been amazing and such a needed thing for pastor's wives. It has truly been a place of exhortation and praise and I am so so thankful for that. God has shown up!
And to you, the bench-seekers? You are the brave ones. The ones who have not given up on community. You who hold onto the hope that there is a place for you, somewhere you can be yourself – exactly as God created you. You trust that God will answer your prayer for women who know what it's like to walk THIS road – your road – and you search for them. You connect with a new friend on Twitter, follow a few Facebook pages, and leave blog comments faithfully, hoping to connect with like-minded sisters.
These are comments from some women – just like you – who found their bench with (in)couragers:
It's a great community where I can share with people who get where I am coming from. We are aligned in experience AND faith, which makes it a lot easier to get great advice, and prayer!
The women in this group supported each other through prayer and art and conversation. I feel as though I have made RL friends even though I haven't met any of them (except for one) in person... I like the fact that each group is welcoming and nurturing–ready with a prayer and a pat on the back or a virtual hand held.
As a somewhat new blogger/writer, the group encouraged me to have more confidence in myself as a writer. They also shared so much information on improving the skill. I felt so blessed to be a part of the group...many new friendships were made.
I felt included! I felt like the other ladies knew exactly what I was going through, my struggles, my joys, in a way that others just can't. It feels difficult to meet and make time to get to know other special needs moms, but to find a whole group of them, and also to share the same faith... It gave me so much peace to know that I am not alone, although physically I am not with them, I felt their strength and courage and it made me feel stronger and more courageous.
This summer? Whether you're a bench builder, bench seeker, or just in need of a fun and encouraging place to connect with some friends, you're invited to join us at the (in)courager Facebook page. We'll be joining with the Bloom book club, kicking back, making new friends, and getting ready for our fall small group session. You can find more details on the Find Friends page!
We can't wait to see you – we have a spot saved just for you.
:angel: :angel:
When You Are Done With Living Small, Living Safe
May 21, 2013 01:10 am | Tonya Robinson
When I was nineteen years old I wanted to go to India on a missions trip.
I had been saved at eighteen in a radical, darkness to light kind of conversion. A Saul-on-the-road-to-Damascus kind of conversion. And what I wanted, more than anything, was just to live for Christ. I didn't care how or what, I just wanted more of Him. But when I went to my parents to tell them that I was going to go to India, they got worried. That's what parents do, right? All they could think of was that their blonde, blue-eyed daughter was going to be kidnapped and sold into slavery. And I let them talk me out of it. There would be plenty of time for that later, they said. When you're older. When it's safer. Later.
That year I met my husband and we married young. We started having children and before I knew it I was a mother who had been pregnant or nursing a baby for twelve years straight. There were always reasons not to go. Who would take care of my kids? What if something happened to me? What if I died, then what about these six little ones, living without a mother? I listened to the lie of safe.
The lie that says living safe is the only way to life. The lie that says living small, protecting, is the way to longevity. But these last sixteen years, I've learned something.
There are worse things than dying for Christ.
Chiefly, living without Him.
Because when you're living for anything other than fully Christ, you're dying. But the fullest life is found only in living fully for Christ. Living for your children, your spouse, your job, it only harvests death. Bits of yourself withering away day by day until there is nothing left.
And when you live small, live safe, live to protect yourself and others, you can't simultaneously live for Christ. It is impossible.
You can't take hold of all of Him without letting go of what you're holding on to.
You can't live for Christ without a willingness to die.
Even dying to the expectations of others.
But dying for Christ harvests only greater life.
I have lived my life for others but not in God's way.
I've lived to please people instead of living to please God.
And that Saul who turned Paul, he said it too, "Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ." Galatians 1:10
I haven't been a faithful servant. I've too often chosen the way of pleasing man over God. I've too often listened to the lie of safe, instead of living reckless for Christ. But this isn't the life I want.
I've made excuses for too long.
After my friend's husband died suddenly and tragically on a mission trip to Costa Rica, leaving behind his wife and four young children, I wondered, where in this whole wide world is safe? Then one month later I almost died in childbirth with my sixth child. And I began to understand, that there is only one safe place in this wild world, and that is in the arms of Jesus. We aren't guaranteed safety while we walk this earth but when we walk with Jesus, he holds us, and promises to bring us safely home to Him. And this one life that I have been given, I want to live it full of Christ.
I'm done.
I'm done with safe. I'm done with small.
I'm done with living for less than just Jesus.
What if I loaded up that big red, 12 passenger van full of kids and we just followed Jesus where ever he leads. Safe or not. What if we just lived for Christ, no matter the cost?
What if I listened to the still small voice beckoning into the deep waters and didn't stop to wonder if I can swim well enough?
What if I went?
This week I turned in my missions application to go to Costa Rica. And all I hear echoing in my head is this refrain from a Switchfoot song, "Why would I wait till I die to come alive? I'm ready now. I'm not waiting for the afterlife."
I'm ready now, I'm not waiting for the afterlife.
How about you? Are you ready to really live for Christ? What deep water is He calling you into?
by Tonya Robinson, Moments in Grace
:angel: :angel:
It's OK to Not Be OK
May 22, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne
Hey friend? Come sit next to me here on my old thrifted couch. I have a warm, soothing cup with your name on it and I want to tell you a few things.
Are you looking at that overflowing to do list and feeling bad about yourself?
Are you thinking of the week ahead and wondering how you will handle all of it?
Are you watching the news with your heart breaking and wondering how to take it all in, when your own daily life is so overwhelming already?
Here's the thing: It's ok to not be ok.
Right now?
Where you are at is ok.
It might not feel like it, and it might not look like it to the rest of the world, but I can tell you confidently that you are ok. And not because you have anything pulled together.
Let me tell you why.
Because Jesus says you are worthy.
Even when you don't accomplish a single thing (yet again) today, you are still worthy. Even when you just survived today. Even when you've forgotten how to thrive. You are still worthy.
He is not ashamed to be called your God. He wants your healing and your redemption and for your broken to be whole – and he will take you there. On your own journey. He is so faithful.
You know how I know?
You see, I get you, because you are me sometimes. And I can look back at the darkness behind me and realize it wasn't as dark as I had once thought. It had bright spots shining in when I wasn't looking. Maybe when I was looking down instead of up.
And those lights are what drew me to the next step. And the next. And the next. One foot at a time, just doing the next thing.
A month from now, you won't be where you are today. Because all things are in either growth or decline, for the glory of the Lord, you won't be where you are right now. Nothing is static. Because you are worthy, and ok, you can choose tomorrow what one thing you will accomplish. Then next week maybe you'll find two things. Even if those two things are washing a load of laundry and then putting it away.
When the expectations of the world are beating at the door and all you can do is pretend you aren't home, just know that even if you don't feel ok, you are ok. And tomorrow you can walk towards that door. And the day after that you can unlock it. And the day after that maybe you'll open it.
But right now, you don't have to be productive. You don't have to be on time. You don't have to be organized or pulled together or stylish or smart or lovely at all. You can just be you and you can just love Jesus.
That is enough for today.
:angel:
Start With a "Yes" to the Little Things
May 23, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
After spending a few days at Disney, I can't help but sing "Dreams really do come true." With princesses twirling and characters dancing, evil is destroyed at every turn.
Little boys and girls can't help but be mesmerized by Mickey's encouragement that if we only just believe, dreams can become a reality.
Yet when I take away the sprinkle of Cinderella's fairy dust, what does that really mean for me?
How can I weave God's calling through the fabric of my every day life without feeling overwhelmed?
The discussions on "Dreaming Big Dreams" have permeated many posts and discussions lately, and as a "Reach for the Stars" kind of girl myself, there's nothing I appreciate more than surrounding myself with others who dream big dreams, yet often, I'm conflicted with my thoughts on the topic.
For me, whenever I wear my Dream God Sized Dreams bracelet it's my reminder to embrace the Little Things.
Just recently, I re-read one of my very first Balancing Beauty and Bedlam posts entitled The Little Things. It's been a theme on my blog for years, and the post began,
"For those who read my blog, you know that one of my passions is CHOOSING JOY.
I love to celebrate the simple things, and stimulate the senses. It is by taking your everyday rituals, and turning them into something meaningful, so that your house becomes a true haven – a sanctuary.
It's about turning the ordinary into the extraordinary, and that extraordinary is often so simple.
I often get asked, "What is your dream?"
I honestly reply, "I am living it."
I penned that nearly five years ago. Those are my roots. That's where I need to return.
Contentment in the midst of simplicity.
Our God Sized dreams vary based on our own personal journey and life stage, and last month on (in)courage, I shared my imaginary conversation. The one where I felt as if I couldn't keep up amidst this amazing group of women.
The bottom line? I don't have too. My journey is very different. I don't share the same dreams, yet that doesn't make one more important than the next.
Again, I glance at my bracelet, and I'm reminded that my big, crazy, God size realized Dream began by saying "Yes" to the little things which ARE the Big things, and quite often, the most important things.
How did I start to realize my dreams and choose joy on a day to day basis?
I began by saying YES to the little things and not worrying about bigger things.
I said "Yes" to:
Picking blueberries in the pouring rain
Choosing Spontaneous Hospitality (for the non-perfectionist) again and again
Being a Crazy "Yes" Mom whenever I got the chance, since so often I had to say "no."
Jumping in a mud puddle, even when I didn't want more laundry to do
Eating frozen chocolate chip cookies dough
Sharing a "backwards night" in which I served ice cream as our main course and encouraged the family to "save" room for our special treat: peas for dessert
Eating dinner under the table with candles and china
Buying a Starbucks treat for a stranger in line, even when I wouldn't buy that treat for myself
As I started saying "Yes" to spontaneous acts of intentional living, my soul was freed up to tip toe into other areas.
Organizing Kitchen Sisters Clubs (meal swapping groups)
Sharing Money Saving Ideas
Serving as a Director for women on their home school journey
Can you see how this slowly evolved?
I didn't make a chart. I didn't create a "to do" list. I didn't have some big "life goals" sheet (shh, I know that goes against all leadership principles).
I allowed my day to day "yeses" to percolate passions that I didn't even know were imprinted on my heart 20 years ago.
The crazy thing?
From those simple, country girl passions, the desire to become more creative, purposeful and frugal, came a God Sized Dream realized.
It all started with saying "Yes" to the little things.
My co-host and I desired an affordable weekend of encouragement and inspiration for our readers; a place to bring the hands-on topics of our blogs to real life.
I packed up my family room furniture (literally), set it up on the stage and welcomed women from all walks of life to become more intentional with the day to day.
We shared life.
We shared ideas on meal planning, furniture painting, home decor, family traditions, frugal fashion, photography, Trash to Treasure and more.
Honestly, I chuckle because it's one of my best kept secrets, and I really don't talk about it much. I guess because this Becoming Conference feels as if I'm just welcoming you all into my home for the weekend, and when you do that, you don't talk on and on about what an inspiring weekend it is.
You just live life together, embracing both the beauty and bedlam of every day life.
My encouragement to you is to just start.
Tip toe forward and say "Yes" to those little things. My whole Becoming weekend began as a spontaneous idea of mine built on that exact premise.
The theme of "It's the little things that are the big things" will be sprinkled throughout the Blue Ridge Mountains during the weekend of August 9 -10, 2013
I invited others along for the journey and they said "Yes."
Won't you join me too? (Literally and figuratively) :)
What's "Yeses" can you declare today?
Our God Sized Dreams begin by tip toeing towards just one new "Yes."
(And I highly recommend dancing spontaneously in the rain.)
Shared by: Jen Schmidt, Balancer of Beauty and Bedlam, maker of 10 Minute Dinners and co-host of the Becoming Conference.
:angel: :angel:
The One Thing To Do When You Are Wrecked
May 23, 2013 01:10 am | Julie Sunne
I didn't want to write this post. There were many sunnier topics I had considered sharing. But this is the one I felt needed to be written because...
...I'm wrecked—torn up inside. And I'm struggling with what to do about it. Maybe you are, too.
You see, our third-world brothers and sisters are scavenging for the last vestiges of anything edible, and I'm living in the lap of luxury. (Yes, middle class America is the lap of luxury.) While they wonder where their next meal will come from, I'm searching for the next best deal.
And I'm finally letting it bug me!
Avoidance Isn't the Answer
I've been stung by the plight of others less fortunate before. But I've never allowed it to take hold of me like now.
In the past, I've always managed to "manage" my compassion. I'd give a little something and then shake it off—to prevent it from digging deep into my heart and hanging on. But for the past year I've been largely unsuccessful.
I'm driven to read desperate accounts of life in Haiti, like this one from Ann Voskamp, or stirring narratives of the difficult conditions in Peru by Angie Smith, and I'm broken all over again.
As much as I'd like to stay away from such uncomfortable topics, I can't. Something draws me to consider those who live a world apart, those I will likely never meet—and beckons me to be undone.
But...
...what and how?
What do we do with starving orphans, whole communities of diseased and dying families, and the discarded disabled?
How are we to respond to true desperation when we have refrigerators and freezers filled to the brim, cupboards overflowing with produce, and closets bursting with clothes?
Do we join them on the streets? Do we sell all we have and live like paupers?
Should we feel guilty for living in the United States?
Do we offer a token gesture, a pat on the head, to make us feel better? Or do we turn a blind eye and pretend they don't exist?
Move
The questions have whirled in my mind. And I've finally settled on the only answer I can right now.
I must move. We all must move.
We must take a step toward the needy.
Each of us must embrace being undone and take action. One step at a time.
The body of believers cannot "do" nothing when some of God's children are suffering. As tempting as it may be, we cannot avoid the harsh reality of poverty and persecution because it makes us uncomfortable. We cannot ignore it or forget about it because it is inconvenient. We cannot write off the sadness and suffering as someone else's concern.
We all must take a first step.
My first one step is this post. To acknowledge the plight of the poor and persecuted. To accept the call to do something.
And I'll be praying for the next step ... and the one after that. Because each step needs to be followed by another—a series of small steps to make a big difference.
Different One Steps
I'm certain we're all called to move for the poor, to let ourselves be undone. Because God didn't plop some of us in developed countries merely to live a life of relative ease. He placed us here to demonstrate His heart of compassion, to be His hands and feet.
But I'm equally certain, we aren't all called to make the same step.
So maybe our job—mine and yours—is to figure out what that move looks like in each of our lives.
This first step may be the hardest.
But being wrecked is not about ease; it is about the broken serving the broken.
Ultimately, being wrecked is about love.
"But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?" 1 John 3:17
Q4U: What might your first/next one step be to serve those in need?
Yours in grace,
Julie Sunne
*Author and speaker Jeff Goins wrote a challenging and inspiring book entitled "Wrecked: When a Broken World Slams into Your Comfortable Life." Check it out. It will make you think deep and reach far.
:angel: :angel:
When All the Negativity & Pessimism is Getting to You
May 24, 2013 02:00 am | Ann Voskamp
My Grandma Barbara Ruth, she ever only saw a cup one way.
Didn't matter if the tea'd been poured out or if the sky'd tipped over or the tap was still running loud.
Every cup she ever held or tipped back or drank from, they were all right empty as far as she was concerned.
She'd been dying of old age since she was 42. Every picnic was bound to get rained out. My grandfather'd be whistling Winn-Dixie and she just knew he was brewing to pick some fiery fight. I loved her like there was no tomorrow. And for Grandma? There likely wasn't going to be another tomorrow.
The thing is apples don't fall far from trees and cups can seem empty for generations.
Seeing the cup as half empty is completely unhelpful.
Really — what's the benefit of being anything other than an optimist?
I never asked Grandma that.
Sometimes I ask that woman in the mirror who looks her, who looks back at me.
That woman who may or may lay awake nights wondering if a son's algebra grades flex enough muscle to pry him into university and if that business idea of his will leave him bankrupt and heart-rent, and if the sky will turn kinder so we can get this year's crop in the ground.
Wondering how can we spend our lives to end poverty and stop oppression and if any of them will go out into this world loving Jesus more than their own comfort and double car garages and culture's applause and their very lives and if their mother has wholly failed them or only just mildly ruined them. Kids eat garbage from dumps. I have yelled. They still bicker.
I see all who they are not. I haven't hugged and prayed and asked for forgiveness enough. The economy could implode next month. I should bake more peanut butter cookies. They should be kinder. Years are ridiculously short and minutes can be relentlessly long and failures can seem eternal.
I have known it, the mornings that I have struggled to get out of bed, the days when I've fumed about all that is wrong in them and me and the world:
When we fixate on the worst in something, we render ourselves incapable of fixing anything.
But attend to the good in something — and we act towards the best in everything.
For our science studies, I sit in the middle of the couch, in the middle of a bunch of kids and I read about weather and seasons and the pressure of air.
"What do you know about this ocean of air you live in?" I read it from the newsprint, yellowed page.
"It's hard to picture something you can't see. It's hard to believe something is real if you can't look at it and touch it." I'm reading words about air and thinking about God. "Are there ways to showing that air is real?"
The science book tells us to get a glass and a bowl of water and Malakai, he runs to the kitchen. We follow the instructions.
"Now turn the glass upside down and push it straight into the bowl of water." I look up at Malakai, Shalom, Levi, all hunched over the bowl.
Kai plunges the glass into the bowl's water. It doesn't fill.
"Why doesn't the glass fill with water?" Malakai grins, shrugs his shoulders.
"You thought the glass was right empty? In actual fact — it's right full." Malakai tilts his head at that angle.
I read the text. "The glass doesn't fill with water — because the glass is right full of air."
And I tilt my head and re-read my life.
That rhetorical question asking if your glass half empty or half full? The truth is that the glass is never half empty — or half full.
The truth is the glass is always right full.
You may not be able to picture what you can't see but only real things fill up space. And the real reality is that your glass is really right full.
And at this angle, the one with the glass so full that it pushes back an ocean of doubt, the world reads differently and the cynics don't wear wisdom but the shoddy armor of the worried and wounded.
The cynics donning armor because they're the aching, the afraid not wanting to be disappointed. It's the cynics who have a limited, bruised vocabulary of no. It can seem easier to reject the world before the world hurts you again.
It's the brave who say a prayerful yes, the brave and wise who believe that the faith-filled yes is what heals things.
It's the brave and free who are the optimists.
And to be an optimist — for a moment, you first have to be a pessimist.
Because sometimes you can only be an optimist when you have a plan for the pessimist in you. So, you play out the law of Worst Case Scenario: What is the worst thing that could possibly happen?
And there aren't wolves, trouble, kids, hatred, debts, messes, betrayal, teenagers, disease, lack, hard times, untruths, diagnoses, or disappointment that can possibly separate you from the love of God. Nothing can separate you from Him.
So the Worst Case Senario? Is only the scenario of not wanting Christ the most.
So the Worst Case Scenario — is only a possible scenario if you want something more than Christ.
If you want Christ the most — there is no worst case scenario.
Live and He's using everything to shape you more into Christ and abundant life in Him.
Die and you have eternal life in Him.
Abundant life versus eternal life — it's impossible to lose!
You can't lose.
When you have a plan in place for the worst — you never go to the the place of worry. And the plan for when all hell breaks lose is that Christ's already broken the power of hell and to live is Christ and to die is gain, so the plan is always joy.
I say yes to a boy who wants to try a crazy experiment of his own.
I begin to make loveliness by picking up one lego. Write one letter and a string of hopeful words to a child in a dump. Focus on the good in a struggler and a straggler. Believe just this moment that everything is being transfigured for His glory. Every step towards something beautiful already accomplishes something beautiful. Beauty and joy are found in every overcoming along the way.
I reach over and brush a hand with belief.
Only those who believe in the beautiful — can collaborate in the miraculous.
The new world is not a mirage. The Kingdom's already coming. If you still long enough in prayer — you can hear its breathing.
You can hear the air filling the lungs of the resurrected and risen ones, filling all the earth.
On the sill, I leave this glass out.
This glass already and always right full...
::
Q4U: How do you most often view your glass? Let's all jump in and make this a resource to help each other believe in the beautiful: What verse, what song, what comfort, what great idea — got a link for us? What really works for you when you aren't feeling overly optimistic?
:angel:
A Memorial Day Weekend Scripture
May 26, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
We always thank God for all of you
and continually mention you in our prayers.
We remember before our God and Father
your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love,
and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.
1 Thessalonians 1:2-3
On this Memorial Day weekend, we want to take a moment to remember all of those who have given their lives for our country. Our gratitude, our appreciation, our respect – it pales in light of the sacrifices you have made. To everyone who serves in our military and to everyone who loves someone who serves in our military, thank you. Our hearts are full, thanking God for all of you today.
:angel:
On This Memorial Day :: For The Heroes And Those Who Love Them
May 27, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
If looks could kill, she vaporized me on the spot.
In spite of her laser beam pupils boring into me, I kept my voice level. Calmly and gently, I addressed my concerns with her child's behavior towards my son, behavior my husband and I believed akin to bullying. She laughed in response, only taking her eyes off me to throw them skyward in an exaggerated roll. Incredulous, she informed me of her knowledge that my husband was in the military, so if any child around here acted like a bully, it was mine. When I asked her to explain what she meant, she crossed her arms and shot words like bullets, listing a litany of lifestyle and discipline habits associated with "soldiers in the military." It soon became apparent she believed we ran our household boot camp style, spitting out tyrannical little bully children in the process.
When I relayed the above events to my husband, he was none too happy no positive resolution to our son's situation could be found. But in regards to the other mother's opinion of the military, he encouraged me to make peace with this truth:
Sacrifice is part of the job, and losing the good opinion of a few misguided people isn't the biggest price.
So many pay a higher price by sacrificing everything.
"There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends." ~John 15:13
We only have to look from one nail-pierced hand to the other to see the God-created rhythm of sacrifice for a greater good. It's true: all good things come at a cost, all things that require service require sacrifice. So brave men and women serve voluntarily so you and I can live abundantly, singing freedom's song.
To all the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine, and Coast Guard servicemen and women, we at (in)courage offer a hearty standing ovation as gratitude for your selfless service. You are brave heroes. You give so much and expect so little. It does not go unnoticed.
To all those family members of our military, we at (in)courage offer you a seat of honor at our table. You are fierce, courageous, generous, strong, flexible while unwavering. You are brave heroes, too. Thank you for all you do behind the scenes.
And to those families of the fallen, may you feel Jesus close to you on this Memorial Day and always. May you feel loved mightily by the One who knows the sting of loss Himself, the One who holds you in the palm of His hand and in the depths of His heart.
We lift you up today.
And we say thank you.
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
Are you a military wife *or* do you know someone who is? Yes? Well then, may I hand you a carefully gift-wrapped present? To honor the significance of your own sacrifices (and those of your loved ones), I have written the ebook Serving You: 31 Days of Encouragement for the Military Wife. And on this Memorial Day as well as tomorrow (Tuesday, May 28th), you may download your copy for FREE. Click here for all the details.
Wait! I'm not done!
Today is my birthday, but the folks at (in)courage and I are offering *you* the chance to receive a few encouraging gifts: the Miss You card set, the Serving Others card set, *and* the Lisa Leonard Gold Connected Hearts necklace.
All 3 items will be given to 3 randomly-drawn commenters below and will bless military and civilian folks alike. Drawing ends this Thursday, May 30th.
If you have a loved one serving at home or abroad in the military, might you leave his or her *first* name in a comment so we can pray? And if you don't, might you leave a word of encouragement to our military and their families?
:angel:
Touching The Artistic Life You've Hidden Deep Inside
May 28, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
"Bonheoffer said that when Christ calls a man he bids him come and die. He never said there wouldn't be brothers and sisters reaching down in joy, arm in arm, to start the long, difficult climb out from the grave together." ~ Kevin Marks
There's an artists meeting.
Happening tonight.
A bunch of creative types. Painters, designers, illustrators, poets, dancers, musicians... writers.
I got the email a few weeks ago.
And thought, "Who... me?"
An artist.
Hmm... No one had ever called me that before.
But here I was being invited to this gathering — because a few weeks before that, I ran into a guy at church in the parking lot.
I was actually there to steal wi-fi. My son's preschool was ending earlier that day. So, I had a little time to burn before picking him up.
Church was close by. So I thought I'd swing by, drive to the back of the church where no one could see me, and try to do some writing.
But, I couldn't log on. I thought I had the right wi-fi password.
So, I looked around. And saw a guy, getting ready to step into his truck.
It was Kevin. The church's creative arts director.
I called out to him across the pavement. "Hey...Kevin...! Do you know the passcode to get to the wi-fi?"
It turns out the wi-fi didn't reach out that far. You had to be inside the building in order to get the wi-fi signal.
Something Unplanned
I hadn't talked to Kevin since last year. I said hi once. I was new to the community at the time (still am, really) and didn't know anyone yet. I was drowning in the deepest part of post-traumatic stress last year, when I would hardly venture out of my house, much less socially engage. I didn't want any talk about writing. It would trigger an avalanche of who-knows-what-kind of anxiety.
When I recovered well enough, I wanted to look into this artist gathering thing at church.
But, I didn't really consider myself an artist. The word artist sounds free. Unhindered. Expressive.
Me? I'm just trying to figure out how to get words on a page again. Without panic attacks.
Then, I decided in the moment to do something unplanned.
I asked him if he had a few minutes.
"Sure. What's going on?" Kevin asked.
Kevin needed to transport some equipment back to the church office, so I knew there wasn't time to tell him my life story.
So, I just spit it out.
Panic attacks. I think I need to kill the book I started writing. To write a different story. The story I've been journeying through. Stress and anxiety. How I'm finding God even though it looks nothing like I'd want it to.
I'm scared to write this way. Without an outline. Without 10 main points and a pretty bow to wrap up each chapter.
That's how I've always written.
Maybe the truth is that's how I've always tried to live life.
Maybe faith is taking me beyond any points I can come up with – to free His story in me.
So that I'm no longer holding onto anything, except the hand that is leading me.
Walk Off Script
Maybe that's what it means to be an artist by faith.
To walk off script with Jesus, as that little girl out into the world.
Relinquishing any other goal, other than being honest in the moment with Jesus.
About what I'm thinking.
What I'm feeling.
About what I'm needing. And wanting.
To let Him in. So that I won't be alone.
To let others in. So that I don't have to travel the journey of faith alone either.
We are all on our journey of healing, after all.
Looking at the broken pieces that seem to fall out of us now and then.
Picking them up.
And placing them out on the open canvas of our lives.
Not because they make sense. But, because they are real.
They are a part of us.
Because those are the places where Jesus is alive in us.
Saying Yes
Kevin later asked me to come and share with the group about my journey of writing. How it led me to have panic attacks and how they have led me to re-write my life and my book in an entirely new way.
I said yes.
Because I knew behind that email was the whisper of Jesus, inviting me to sit with him there tonight.
To meet these nameless faces of brothers and sisters. With Him next to me.
To open my heart. And share from where I'm at.
The week I said yes, I immediately experienced anxiety and panic attacks. Because you see, I would definitely prefer to keep it all tucked away inside. Just like I have for decades.
This will be the first time I share my journey through post traumatic stress in the skin beyond the privacy of a friend.
And it terrifies me, even though that's where my heart is leading me.
To touch the artistic life I've hidden deep inside.
That Jesus remembers.
The part of me that has tasted pain and longs for beauty all the same.
A Deeper Story
I don't know what I'll say exactly.
But, I want to share how something unexpected and uninvited has begun a discovery of deeper, painful stories in me. But, I want to say — just as passionately — how re-living those stories is bringing me to re-write a new deeper story of faith in me.
This deeper story of faith is the one I'm journeying through with Jesus — live today — with you.
And after tonight, I will have taken one step into journeying in the skin with new friends, who are my brothers and sisters.
And maybe, what I'm attempting to put into words on a page will feel a little less scary, because I'm a little more known in the skin.
Because the parts of me that are broken are walking out into the world.
After all, Jesus gathered with his friends the night He was about to walk out into the world completely broken — unrecognizably broken — by faith too.
Do you find yourself, as I do, drawn to hiding out in the "back parking lot," outside of community, to live your artistic life with Jesus?
Have you been waiting, like me, to get better — to scale the face of a cliff in your heart — before you give yourself permission to open up with others?
That step in your journey of faith — the one you've been trying to be strong and protect yourself from by journeying alone — may be the very thing that brings you connection with others.
That wi-fi I was hoping to squirrel away without being known, to write alone?
The signal was strong and clear, as I opened my laptop, inside the building — after asking if I could come in.
For just a little bit.
"...you are a letter of Christ,
cared for by us,
written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God,
not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts."
~ 2 Cor 3:3
~~~~~
Is there something God is inviting you to share in community — in-the-skin — what you've done mostly hidden alone?
Is there an artistic life that you've never allowed yourself to touch — that God may be whispering for you to draw near?
Pull up a chair. Click to comment.
Share where you are in your faith journey today — and let's step into each other's stories.
Because giving voice to where Jesus is speaking to you — and listening to each other in this moment with Jesus here — is prayer.
Pray for my heart tonight. I'm praying for all of ours, along with mine.
~~~~~
If you're on the journey of faith to walk out into the world, I'd love your company. Join me on my blog as I stumble and journey in community together. Let's keep speaking words of encouragement and friendship with each other in our faith stories — as it's being made and lived. As is.
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
What You Think You're Not Good At Is Only Half The Story
May 29, 2013 01:30 am | Lisa-Jo
"You're just no good at that."
There's a voice that tells me this often.
It's funny how it doesn't matter what I'm doing. I can be cooking or organizing the pantry or picking out new curtains or working on a piece of writing or trying to remember to read the Bible to my kids or planning a conference.
That voice slides into my ear and just says the same thing it always says with the same confidence, "You're just no good at that."
I'm a grown woman with three children, a career that matters to me and a blog where I get to share my ups and downs with women who are strong, and funny, and wise, and also in the raw places of raising kids. And many, many times I believe that voice.
I hear it and it sinks in and I feel tired and the venom travels down my veins and makes me want to just give up. Why bother with writing or figuring out ways to make sense of my kids or this recipe book or the way-too-many curtain choices if I'm not any good at any of it.
Because if I can't make my house look like hers or my kids craft like theirs or the words on this page turn out like his why bother at all?
There's a chocolate milkshake that could make the afternoon feel better and help drown out my stupid nagging voice of uselessness.
Instead I sit at this keyboard and keep typing.
Instead I swallow down the fear and the doubt and keep typing through my racing heart and my lethargic fingers.
Because I know that voice is a liar.
I know that voice is not my own.
I know that voice is a one-way-ticket to walking away from all the glory and the beauty that has been planned into my DNA. And yes some of it will be messy. And some of it won't turn out the way I imagined. And much of it will be a work in progress.
But the some things I might not be perfect at, aren't the sum total of no good.
I might not be good enough, brave enough, profound enough. But the God who made me – He. is. enough.
And maybe today you're scared too?
Maybe there's a voice been whispering how no good at anything you are?
Maybe there's a lie been slyly slipping a measuring stick with impossible units to live up to into your life this afternoon.
Maybe you need a sister to snap that stick in half and hand you a flash light when you're facing the dark. I have a sister who prayed these words over me and I'm bringing them to pray over you. Gather 'round, let me whisper this in your ear:
Dear Lord, I come before Your throne right now, lifting up Your sweet child. Thank You Father for the ways You've uniquely gifted her, and given her a spirit — not of timidity — but of power through Your Holy Spirit. Empower her today and in the coming days for all the things that You have placed before her. We praise you in advance for the ways that You will work in her and through her, so that we can look back on these days, and as sisters, say, "See there, look what the Lord did, right in the middle of the fear!"
Give her the strength and courage to move forward, even when it looks a little bit dark around the corner. Also, give her peace ... Give her a light unto her path, and a lamp unto her feet ... and Lord Jesus, she probably wouldn't mind a big flashlight every now and then, a big Light of reassurance that what's ahead is good and right, and that You are already there ... just like You're here. We love You, Lord Jesus, and it's in Your name we pray ... Amen.
OK, sweet sisters, now take a deep breath and say it out loud and clear into the comments what God has called you to do in this season. Not perfectly – just obediently.
Standing here beside you cheering, from behind this keyboard and right out in front of my own doubting voices,
love,
Lisa-Jo, community manager of (in)courage, mom to three, and sister to you.
:angel: :angel:
Love And Cough Drops
May 30, 2013 01:10 am | Kristin Gordley
The other morning I was rushing around trying to get ready while my four-year-old was standing in my bathroom, asking me questions. He watched me use my eye lash curler, and then he tried it himself. As we were chit-chatting about all my beauty products and what they do, he said out of the blue, "Mama, your eyes are pretty and your ear wax tastes good!" I tried hard not to laugh, because I knew he had just tried to craft his words into a statement of love. "Thanks, buddy, I really appreciate it".
Lately I've noticed his efforts to connect with me. Recently when I got ready to go out with his daddy for a rare date-night, he said I looked "beauuutiful". My son is very verbal. He has always been unafraid to talk to people when we are out and about. The first question he asks every morning when he wakes up is, "who are we gonna see?" The wirings God infused in him for enjoying people are already evident. He relishes creative conversations with his dad and I, and he longs for restoration with us when we have to correct him.
But the other day he brought tears to my eyes as I recognized something important he was learning, and in turn teaching me. I had been sick for a few days, and he was enjoying the novelty of playing with my cough drops. While I was getting him and his little brother packed up in the car for a grocery trip, he ran back into the house and stuffed a bunch of cough drops into his pocket. I was a little annoyed because I was trying to get us out the door. On the way to the store he must have asked a hundred times if I needed a cough drop. My repeated "no thank you" turned into, "I'm fine. You don't need to ask me anymore!"
I got them in the cart, into the store, and we were finally making progress. And then I started coughing.....
"Mama, do you need a cough drop?"
I accepted it.....and yet another. And I realized how much I needed his little act of love. In my heart I stopped and thanked God for my son's display of something God has been impressing upon me. Then I remembered the verse that just days before, I found myself studying in a coffee shop.
1 John 3:18
"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue,
but with actions and in truth."
I tell my boys how much I love them all the time. I tell my husband, too. I love connecting with people through meaningful conversations, and reaching out with my words is not a struggle for me. But putting actions behind my love is something I don't always find easy.
Watching my son move from verbally telling me how he felt about me, to choosing to act on his feelings was one of the most surprising and humbling moments I've had as a mom. Active love stopped me in my tracks and it challenged me.
We tend to emphasize loving acts that are big, for all eyes to see. But sometimes the smaller ones are the most meaningful.....like a little hand holding out a cough drop at just the right moment.
By Kristin Gordley, Moments In the Story
:angel: :angel:
I realize that there comes a point when you are supposed to say you understand passages in scripture simply because you have heard them repeated thousands of times.
Apparently I am not at that point in my life yet.
So bear with me while I wade through some of my own ignorance, and feel free to jump in with a few hearty "amens" just to make me feel better.
For the past several days, the passage, "The joy of the Lord is your strength" has been running through my mind. I'm not even sure I would have been able to tell you the book of the Bible it was found in (It's Nehemiah 8:10. I looked it up.) but I knew that the Lord was impressing it upon my heart. So I kept saying it to myself throughout the hours. The joy of the Lord, the joy of the Lord...
It wasn't until tonight as I drove home from a providential meeting with a friend that I started to wonder what it really meant. Why did I keep hearing the words, and what could I learn from meditating on them?
Let me just go ahead and say this has been a season of heartache for many reasons. It's all across the board, and none of it will change the scope of my life, but it has hurt. Deeply. And my attempts to wrestle through the waters have only provided me with yet another reminder that I am a horrible swimmer. I get my head just enough above water to gasp for air and then instead of moving toward the shore, I float until another wave crashes. There are patterns in my life where I have continually chosen the route that keeps the horizon at a distance, and I can't say for sure I know why. There's a part of me that wants to be in the current instead of the safety, I guess.
Whether or not it's healthy, I tend to stay in the areas of life that make me feel like my legs are moving, even if it's just to catch a breath here and there and wonder what will come of it all. Because I get a say this way. I get to put effort into it all and feel like I'm calling some of the shots.
But it feels more like drowning than living.
And recently, the Lord has spoken to me in a different way, and He has urged me to move away from how I've always done things. He's been tender with me as He's called me to Himself in my brokenness. He allowed me to see something I hadn't seen before, and I can tell you in all sincerity that it has changed me.
I do like to be out where it's choppy and I'm soaked through with it all. But I don't think I do it for myself.
Ever since I was a little girl, there was a voice in my head that told me I had to save everyone else, and I've listened. I've actually believed that I know what's best (which I don't) and that I'm capable of rescuing (I'm not).
So that was kind of a rude awakening.
But it's true.
I put myself in harm's way many times in my life because I am under the misguided notion that I am the savior, all the while ignoring the facts.
I can't swim.
How can I save anyone?
The joy of the Lord is your strength.
What does that even mean, Lord?
I have always (forgive me. I told you this was going to happen) read this as saying "The Lord's joy." As in, the joy that the Lord possesses. And somehow that was my strength. But I'm not exactly sure how that works out.
As I said, I had a providential meeting tonight, and it blessed me beyond words. Through tears and reminiscing a hard time many years ago, I was reminded of His faithfulness. I was able to see from a perspective I hadn't had before. We looked back at what seemed to be broken beyond repair and we marveled at what it had become.
And I remembered the words that cut her deep. I had said them, and I meant them. I thought she was wrong. And with tears in her eyes she told me she understood now, and she wished she had heard me then. It wasn't even a matter of right and wrong, and little things piled up because that's what life does, and all of a sudden it was a mess that neither of us wanted to try and stack up into meaning.
But here, now, well-
We could see it.
The joy of the Lord is your strength.
It isn't the joy that belongs to Him-it's the joy that belongs to us because we believe in Him.
It's the joy that comes when everything around us rattles and moans because we believe in something unshakeable.
It's the place we land when we stop believing we know everything of His will and we rest in the safety of grace, knowing He can do what we never could.
It's the joy that leads us to the place we have been called to be; the shore.
Where our toes are bathed in shallow mercy and our eyes watch far out into the water where He is always saving. It's where we stood tonight, and it made sense from here-all of it.
It's where we see Him working and not ourselves. The joy...
And it's spectacular.
What does strength mean? Does it just mean we get to be really brave and tough? No.
According to the original Greek, the word "strength" (ma' owz) means "A place of safety, protection, refuge, stronghold." It means, "A harbour."
Feeling joy because we trust the One who made the waves is what shelters us from the tossing of the waves. The joy of He alone is our harbour.
I don't know about you, but that's good news to me.
And it has become a new commitment of mine to ask myself in every situation; am I trying to save because I think He can't? Or because He won't? Or is it just to feel like I did something marvelous?
None of those are the right and godly answers.
The answer that pleases Him, I believe, is the one that simply says, "Lord, I don't know how You'll do this, but I know You'll do it in Your time, and Your way. And that is enough. So I'm going to make my way to the sand, take a few steps back, and watch in wonder as You redeem what I thought was lost."
Are you being called there with me? To the place of abiding instead of mustering strength? If you are, know I have saved a spot for you right beside me and I welcome you to the place with the most beautiful view this life can offer.
Joy in Him alone-that is the refuge of all.
Come to the shoreline and we'll all cheer as the waves crash and His will makes it right.
It will all be right.
Thank you, Lord. That is joy unspeakable to my weary soul tonight...
:angel: :angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Jun 02, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
He said to the Israelites,
"In the future when your descendants ask their parents,
'What do these stones mean?'
tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.'
For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan
before you until you had crossed over.
The LORD your God did to the Jordan what he had done to the Red Sea
when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over.
He did this so that all the peoples of the earth
might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful
and so that you might always fear the LORD your God."
Joshua 4:21-24
:angel:
Sitting At Home Alone
Jun 03, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa
They were laughing in their matching neon pink t-shirts with the words "Bethany's Birthday Girls" printed on the front. They were going bowling after school. Then to get pizza. Then a sleep over.
When Bethany passed out the shirts by her locker that morning I pretended to be too busy to notice. I stayed hyper focused on unpacking my book bag into my locker. And then I hurried off to my first class.
It was clear. Bethany had made a list of her friends and I hadn't been included.
I thought I would be. We'd gotten together before. I'd invited her to my pool party.
No big deal, I tried to tell myself all day. I had plans that night too.
To sit at home. Alone. And wonder why I hadn't been chosen.
It's been years since I watched those neon pink shirts all pile into a station wagon after school and drive away.
But it hasn't been years since I've heard the negative inside chatter that ensued afterwards.
"You're not liked."
"You weren't invited."
"You weren't chosen."
Here's what I wish I could have told my little sans pink t-shirt self back then...And what I need to remember when those same feelings creep in today...
Don't put the whole of your identity into the smallness of this situation.
Not getting a pink t-shirt that day felt like a defining moment. And maybe it was for that day. I wasn't invited to Bethany's party. And that stunk.
But it wasn't a defining moment of my identity.
It was a moment. And moments shift. People are fickle. People shift.
In the moment Bethany made the list of who to invite to her party, I wasn't on the top of her mind. Not because she didn't like me, but simply because she hadn't thought about it.
It was a small situation.
And I can't put the whole of my identity into the smallness of this situation. Or any other for that matter.
My Pastor used a verse in his sermon recently that echoes these same thoughts, "For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, AND YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN FULLNESS IN CHRIST," (Colossians 2: 9-10).
I have been given fullness.
In Christ.
I can place the wholeness of my identity in that reality... and see everything else as small in comparison.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Looking for more encouragement in the battle against negative inside chatter? Check out Lysa's book, Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy!
:angel:
Blessings for Our Enemies
Jun 04, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
A few weeks ago on a Monday morning, my husband stepped outside to walk the dog.
Before he got out of the driveway, he abruptly stopped, turned around and raced back inside the house.
"Sarah. Your passenger side window has been shattered. Someone broke into your car overnight."
This isn't the first time this has happened to me. There was that one time I parked in a dark parking garage for an early morning session at the gym and someone stole my purse off the seat. My bad. I shouldn't have left it there.
But this time? Nothing valuable was in my car. I've learned my lesson well. But nonetheless, the thief took an old bag that I'm guessing looked like a purse with nothing of consequence inside.
I was more perturbed than I was violated.
Even so, my husband and I traded cars and he took mine into to the auto repair to get my window fixed.
I drove the girls to school in the Prius. As we pulled out of the neighborhood, we talked about what happened.
My seven-year-old: "Mama, why do people steal things?"
Me: "Oh sweetheart, sometimes people steal things because they need money. Or maybe they just were rowdy kids doing things they weren't supposed to do. I don't know."
And I really didn't know.
My daughter just looked down. Both of my daughters seemed sad.
My eleven year old spoke up. "Mama. Can we pray for the thief?"
"Of course we can." I responded.
"Because, what if they needed money to pay their rent? What if he didn't have enough money to feed his family, Mom? What if his family just needed stuff to live? Can we pray that they are okay?"
I looked over at her in the seat next to me.
She looked worried and so grown up. As if the weight of the bigger world sometimes settled on her shoulders. It's a hard space to be in when you're approaching twelve.
So I prayed and she closed her eyes tightly as I watched the road. I prayed for the guy (or kids) who broke into my car. I prayed for his family. I smiled as I prayed because even though she was probably misguided as to the reasons why, she was hopeful. She was innocent and she was brilliant.
This is what Jesus meant when He said to pray for those who persecute you. It isn't a grumbly prayer of "Lord-help-them-stop-being-an-idiot."
Praying for our persecutors is a grace-filled, innocent request on the part of us, the wounded, to honestly ask for blessings on those who do us wrong. We must be a people who want to rain love and grace and blessing on those who hurt us and those who take from us. We must be a church who prays, with genuine hearts, for our enemies. And we must, at the same time, wish them well.
And who knows if anyone has ever prayed for our thief? Who knows what exactly the power of a prayer of blessing can do for a man? Or for a woman? Only God knows if the echoed prayer of a fifth-grader actually reached to the heart of a man who came to steal and destroy.
To the guy who took my bag and shattered my window: I pray God's blessing on you. I pray the innocent love of an eleven-year-old who sees the goodness in you. I pray God's kindness and everlasting love over your life. Thank you for taking from me as it has taught me to pray even more.
Do you believe in the power of prayer? How hard is it to pray for our enemies? Have you seen goodness come from something like this?
:angel: :angel:
When Trying My Best Doesn't Work
Jun 04, 2013 01:10 am | Abbey Dupuy
Image credit: Alan Cleaver via Creative Commons
I grew up believing that as long as I tried my best, it would be enough. "Always do your best," my mom said, and I generally did.
Now that I'm the mother, sometimes even my very best isn't enough to cover everything that needs covering. I was only born with two hands. Most of the time, I could use twice that many (at least).
It's already almost 8:30 in the morning. My husband can't find his keys. My preschooler is demanding more juice and a second bowl of cereal. The twins are crying to be picked up from their cribs, and I know that picking them up will mean changing their diapers, dressing them and bringing them to the kitchen with the rest of us, where the dishes are already piling up and I'm tripping over a basket of unfolded laundry and a pile of matchbox cars and magic markers on the floor. All I want is a cup of coffee, yet I know I'm at least half an hour from being able to sit down and drink it. My son asks again for the juice.
Taking a deep breath, I try my best not to snap at him. "I am trying," I tell him. "I'm trying really hard this morning. I need you to wait a minute."
He scowls at me, stamps his foot on the floor. "But I don't want to wait. I want juice now."
I try again, speaking as quietly as I can manage. "I am trying as hard as I can. I will be right with you."
"Mama," he says calmly, looking up into my face with his little brow furrowed, "trying harder is not working for you, so maybe you should try easier."
In this moment, I want to shake him (or at least pour the juice and set it down with great force – blam! – on the table, so he knows I'm irritated).
But maybe he has a point?
"My grace is sufficient for you...my power is made perfect in weakness."
- – 2 Corinthians 12:9
On mornings like this, I'm the definition of weakness...I just want to sit down!
Some moments in motherhood feel about as futile as trying to climb out of a deep hole without a ladder. These are the days when I wake up and already feel behind, when there are more things to do than there is time and energy to accomplish them. These are days when all the effort in the world can't get me there...when my trying and striving and teeth-gritted stubbornness only makes the hole deeper and the mess bigger.
How is one person supposed to be everything to everyone? How can one woman take care of so many needs? How can one mother respond patiently, kindly, calmly in the midst of a difficult moment with a challenging child on a day that is testing her beyond her limits?
The truth is, she can't. I can't. I'm not infinite...and my limited human resources can only stretch so far before they reach their breaking point.
But God's grace is limitless, and it is sufficient...even for me.
"When I am weak, then I am strong."
- – 2 Corinthians 12:10
I might never be enough, but God is always enough...and with God, I have what I need.
Taking a deep breath, I carefully pour the juice and set it down, resolving to remind myself as many times as necessary that I'm not actually doing it all on my own, after all.
By Abbey Dupuy, Surviving Our Blessings
:angel: :angel:
A Season of Maybe
Jun 05, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver
Have you ever found yourself carrying too many plates?
One of my daughter's chores is clearing the table after dinner. Lately I've noticed her carrying more dishes than is wise, trying to make as few trips between the dining room and kitchen as possible. Given the [very] short distance between the two rooms, I wondered about her behavior.
After I'd noticed it at dinnertime, I began seeing her do it in other settings as well. Picking up her toys around the house, helping me put away groceries, carrying overdue library books out of her room – every time, she was carrying too much, straining as she juggled, refusing help when I offered.
"I've GOT it, Mommy! I can DO IT myself!"
At first I thought maybe she'd been exposed to too many episodes of the Rachael Ray Show, something I watched nearly every evening during that first year or so of motherhood. (Have you ever noticed how Rachael opens the fridge one time – and one time only – and carries 47 things over to her workspace?)
Thankfully, I don't think my kiddo's little brain soaked up anything so specific during those early days when I worked all day and my husband worked all evening. Bottle in one hand and remote in the other, I parked the two of us in front of cooking shows and cop shows every time the second shift seemed too long and lonely.
—————————-
I've heard people talk about a "year of yes," a time to accept every invitation, to take every opportunity, to grow and risk and live fully. I've also heard people describe a "year of no," a time to focus, to weed out, to declutter and calm down and live simply.
As the holidays turned into a call for resolutions a few months ago, I turned the page on a new calendar and decided to declare this my own year of . . . something. My Year of Maybe.
—————————-
Just like my daughter tries to carry too many things at once, I pile so many commitments, projects, jobs and "amazing, can't pass it up" opportunities on my proverbial plate that there's no way I can carry it.
By the end of last year, I had backed myself into a corner by saying yes to too many great things. I felt overwhelmed and helpless to find a way out of the situation. After all, I'd agreed to everything. And everything on my plate was something I enjoyed. It was a real pickle.
Thankfully, after a lot of soul searching and hard decision-making (and whining . . . there was whining), I managed to clear my plate a little bit this spring. And as soon as I did, I gave myself a little shake and recommitted to my Year of Maybe.
From now on, I decided, each time an opportunity came up, I'd respond only with a "maybe" and a promise to think about it and give my answer soon.
Finally, I'd learn to say no.
I'd find some balance.
I'd avoid those awkward conversations when I had to confess I wouldn't be able to fulfill my commitment after all.
Of course, changing my yes-girl ways is easier said than done. Just last week I agreed to help with a project before the person asking had even finished describing what he wanted me to do. I didn't say maybe. I said, "Yes! Sure! I'd love to!" – without giving it two seconds of consideration.
It didn't take long for me to realize I had done it again. I don't have time for this project. Honestly, I'm not even a good fit for the task – it's something I'm not good at and don't like doing. And yet . . . "Yes! Sure! I'd love to!"
*SIGH*
Obviously, my Year of Maybe is a work in progress. And now that we're halfway through the calendar year, I can see it might take me more than twelve months to figure this thing out. I guess I'd better call it a Season of Maybe.
But for now I have about 20 phone calls to make for the community fair I agreed to help plan.
Are you [too] quick to say yes? Have you ever declared a Year of Yes, No or Maybe?
:angel:
Can I Still Be Me While I Wear Him?
Jun 06, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
"I don't want to be a servant. I want to be a Caroline." So says my four-year old hippie child, Caroline.
And wow, that just struck me deep. The contrast. She thought that if she was one thing she couldn't be the other, and that precious one, she doesn't want to sacrifice herself in order to be something else.
And isn't that just interesting? It's interesting to me because it brings to focus how I often live, quite divided. I've bought into this idea that I have to give up all of who I am in order to follow Jesus.
Caroline makes me think about how maybe we, maybe I, separate myself, divide myself when it comes to the call: the call to follow Jesus, to lay down my life, to wash feet, to be servant, to be kind, to be...
a Christian.
Because sometimes I think that if I follow God and I try to be more like Jesus, that it means I have to lose myself, my quirky personality, my silliness, my drive, and all the nuances that make up who I am, who I was created to be. In the losing, I figure I also need to be mature, and wise, and dress appropriately, and not laugh too loud or say stupid things. Sometimes it all feels like I have to try too hard to be all the things I'm supposed to be if I lay claim to the name "Christian."
Not only am I trying to figure out who I am as a Jesus follower, I've also got this life to contend with, this life that I am swimming through, reaching through, trying to figure out my strokes so I don't drown. How does this me, this slow swimmer, this sometimes going under, me, how do I learn the strokes while swimming them?
How do I follow Jesus while just trying to live and make sense out of the everyday?
Can I still be me while I wear Him?
Because I'm thinking, what if in the making of a servant, the making of becoming Christ-like, I lose Sarah Mae? What if I try so hard to a servant, a Christian, that I lose the woman God has woven together? Is this what Caroline thought, that if she is to be one thing she couldn't be another? She doesn't want to lose herself to become something else. And do we have to? Do we have to lose one to become another?
Does "lose your life to gain it" mean we slay our very selves?
I don't think so.
I think Caroline has it partially figured out. She knows, she's confident, that she wants to be herself. I really, really like that about her. But me? I'm not so confident. I want to be better, do better, follow better, look better. Die, right? Die to self.
What does that mean?
Die to the flesh, the things that tug at us to be ugly and unknown and far from the One who made us to be more than our flesh.
He breathed into us, knit us, and I think when He asks us to die, He is asking us to live in who He created us to be. We were born into bad, but that's not how we were created. We were created to be good and beautiful, and we wear Him all over, His image. Isn't that just something? We are the beautiful ones, those who are broken enough to believe it. The ones who are some days drowning, some days flailing, some days begging God, "just show me how to swim and I will!" But He finds us in the waves and He says stop trying so hard, you are in my ocean, let my current lead you.
Yes, that's it, isn't it? We, the beautiful ones who choose to die, to stop fighting the waves and instead let them lead us, we are still who we are, we just...stop trying so hard. We let Him lead.
And wouldn't you know, when we swim with the current, we gain confidence, and we gain strength, and we move forward, one stroke at a time. There is no timer, we aren't in any hurry. And we look around, and we see others, some flailing, some racing, some seeing who is behind and who is before, but we, the beautiful ones who lean into the current, we just nod. We know the waves can be rough, swimming is hard, and so we choose do it together.
I am a servant in the making; some days I've got it down, but most days, I'm flailing. But through it all, I'm me, and doesn't the Father just love me so? And doesn't He just love you so?
Swim on you beautiful one, I'm right there with you, under, over, gasping, feeling, floating. I'm right beside you. And I'm nodding, because I know it's hard, in fact, some days it's a flat out battle to breathe. I know.
And I'm with you.
You. And I love who you are, who God made you to be.
So swim on sister. Swim on in who you are, not who you think you should be. You are beautiful. You are God woven. You are not alone.
Swim on.
Love, Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel: :angel:
The Purse
Jun 06, 2013 01:10 am | Cara Coleman
I asked the Lord to examine my heart, allowing Him full access to those hidden places. I knew from the beginning where He would lead me. I was just along for the ride.
Just as I expected, He led me to my closet.
It was right where I had left it up in the back corner. It wasn't collecting any dust because it came with a beautiful tan bag to protect it from such things. I got it out of its bag and looked at it for a moment. I knew it wouldn't take long for the emotions to take their place and tears to start rolling down my cheeks as I reflected on the person I was when I thought I needed a ridiculously expensive purse to prove my worth.
As I opened the R.E.P (ridiculously expensive purse), I remembered the thoughts that rolled through my head as I'd tote around the purse that was big enough to be carry on luggage. "I hope people are impressed by my expensive taste." "If they didn't think I was important before, then they do now." "Wow this is really heavy to tug around all day but I guess that's what chiropractors are for."
At that time in my life, there was no bag big enough or expensive enough to carry all of my insecurities. I was so busy buying things I didn't need to impress people I didn't know.
I'm not sure when it happened. The change. But I can tell you that this verse rocked me to the core.
Now listen, you rich people, weep and wail because of the misery that is coming upon you. Your wealth has rotted, and moths have eaten your clothes. Your gold and silver are corroded. Their corrosion will testify against you and eat your flesh like fire. You have hoarded wealth in the last days. James 5:1-3 NIV
This excerpt from Jen Hatmakers "7":
This is hard to process, so it helps to imagine standing in front of the families of my Ethiopian children, who were too poor and sick to raise their own beloved babies. As I gaze upon their hopelessness, I imagine them calculating what I've spent on clothing alone, realizing that same amount would've kept their family fed and healthy for thirty years. ~Jen Hatmaker
The Lord has gently revealed his love for the poor and given light to my eyes to see true need. (Psalms 19:8)
For example, by selling the R.E.P I am able to do one of the following: (from WorldVision.com)
Buy school supplies for 30 children in impoverished communities
Provide job training for 28 women
Give care to 28 orphans
Completely stock a health clinic
It's not about the purse, girls. It never was. Amazing women have amazing purses and are able to minister in amazing ways. It was about my heart and my deep need to elevate myself due to insecurities. To put it frankly...I needed to raise my self worth above others with a material object.
Oh sisters, the Lord has so much to teach us about our worth to Him and His kingdom.
We must first be willing to invite Him to those hidden places to expose the untruths and lies that the world has fed us for so long.
Do not conform to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Romans 12:2
Lets get real honest with ourselves here. Is there a place you are willing to invite the Lord for healing?
Is there a tangible object you would lay on the altar?
Peace Y'all.
By: Cara Coleman, The Front Porch Ramblings
:angel: :angel:
Just Be... Normal
Jun 07, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
Photo credit
How shall I say this without sounding overly vague? I'll try this—my family and I have been in the non-profit world of being the hands, feet, and mouths of Christ and his teachings for quite some time now. If you get my drift.
Whether directly "out there" being a light in a dark place, or more "back here" supporting it in various direct and indirect capacities, we're no stranger to this world. For about two decades, I've been involved, somehow, in a global mindset to give as many people as possible access to knowing about the death, resurrection, and teachings of Jesus.
And so when you're entrenched in this world, it's easy to overanalyze, become overly concerned, and overcomplicate this business of "being light." We strategize and analyze a plan for being an available conduit to anyone who might be in need of a bit more hope. We aim to be normal people in our intentions, so we go out of our way to understand what it means to be normal in our cultural context, whatever that may be.
Because I'm no stranger to this approach, I have quite the radar for it—which means I can pretty easily see that this strategy isn't dedicated only to the professional Christian. It's rather widespread, whether it's on social media, at the park, in our front yards, or at the doctor's office. It's the idea that if you're a follower of Jesus, you "should" have your guard up at all times. Be prepared to give an answer. Be culturally relevant while still being different from the world.
It can get stressful with all that pressure, 24/7.
Yes, when you think and act like what Jesus said was true, that means your lifestyle will inevitably sometimes be different than someone else's. And yes, if you're consistent in your lifestyle, that means you might sometimes say something to a neighbor, answer a question asked by a fellow mom at the playdate, or not laugh at the crude joke everyone else finds hilarious at the office.
But might I make an alternative suggestion to the self-imposed pressure to Be A Light, All The Time?
Just be a normal person.
Be a normal person who laughs, loves, gets frustrated, even angry, and sometimes sad. Be a person who gets the stress of paying bills, the exhaustion of nursing babies, and the humor of Nacho Libre. Be a regular neighbor who likes barbecue and is willing to share it over some potato salad and an evening fireside chat.
And when things are rough, don't be afraid to say so. Being a light doesn't mean that every Facebook status has to involve a verse, or that you have to force a pithy spiritual anecdote into every situation. Being a light, many times, is admitting that life is just plain ol' hard.
We Christians sure can add more pressure to being Christians than Christ ever intended. When Paul said that we have been crucified with Christ and no longer live because Christ now lives in us, and that the life we now live in the flesh is lived by faith in the Son of God—that means we got some new DNA. Our flesh wasn't repaired; we got a whole new spirit inside us, and that spirit is Christ Himself.
Relax. Just let the Christ who is already in you be revealed in all its marvelous everyday ways. We're secure. Relationships don't need a project-like pressure attached to it. Go on, and just be a regular friend (Emily said this well recently).
Life isn't always about being "out there," always with a smile on our faces and willing to give a measured account of Christ's death and resurrection in fine-print detail. Sometimes, life is about—well, everyday life. And just being ourselves—normal people—is enough to bring hope where it's needed.
So whether you're in the business of being the hands and feet of Christ, or if you do it just because it's who you are, honor God's creativity by firstly being YOU. He'll take care of all the details. Especially if you just relax and be your normal ol' self.
How are you putting too much pressure on yourself to be a light? And what's your favorite Nacho Libre line?
by Tsh, Simple Mom
:angel:
Someday
Jun 09, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
I've wasted a lot of time waiting on somedays: Someday I'll make a workable cleaning schedule and then we'll have company more often. Someday I'll become a morning person and have quiet devotionals and get things accomplished before everyone else gets out of bed. Someday I'll take a class on graphic design and create the things floating around in my head. Someday we'll have more money and . . .
The list goes on.
Do you wait for somedays? What do yours look like?
Someday we'll have a house that's big enough for entertaining.
Someday I'll have children and be a stay at home mom.
Someday the kids will be older and I won't be so tired.
Someday the kids will be grown and I'll do all those things I've waited to do.
Someday I'll have a bigger blog and more opportunities will come from it.
Someday I'll write a book and then I'll consider myself a real writer.
Do you see yourself in any of these somedays?
Planning ahead isn't a bad thing. God has plans for us, as he tells us in Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Although God has a future planned for us, I don't think there are periods when we're supposed to be in a holding pattern, waiting for those "somedays" before we dive in and do the work he's put in front of us.
If you always think of yourself as a work in progress, when will you consider yourself ready to accomplish anything?
Years ago my children and I arrived at an early morning event with our homeschool group. This was when my kids were little and a new one was born about every two years. That period was a blur of swollen belly and ankles; babies nursing through the night; diaper changes; and arms strong from carrying infant car seats. I'd fixed my hair and makeup and all of the kids wore shoes and clean clothes—a victory!
Afterwards a couple of young mothers told me of their struggle: they desired more children, but didn't know if they could do it, if they could handle the strain of the day-to-day and still hang onto their sanity.
My family's presence that day—the fact that the kids and I looked happy and reasonably put together—was just what they needed to see. It gave them hope that the seemingly impossible might be possible after all.
God used me to encourage these women when I was knee-deep in financial worries, sleep deprivation, and dreaming of those mythical somedays ahead, living in a state of minute-to-minute dependence on him. In 2 Corinthians 12:9 he tells us:
My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.
God doesn't need our strength or worldly success in order to use us. In fact, those things might fool others—or us—into thinking that the credit is ours instead of his.
You don't need a bigger house before you can welcome others to your home. You don't need a large readership for your words to encourage. You don't need children of your own to find souls in need of nurturing.
Be satisfied with the gifts and circumstances that God's given you right here, right now, and use them to his glory.
What somedays are you waiting for?
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
What It Looks Like to Have a Cyber Sabbath
Jun 10, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
I've mentioned a few times that I have a Cyber Sabbath. In other words, I unplug for twenty-four hours each week. I often get asked, "What does that look like exactly?" so I thought I'd share a bit more about that in a post.
First, the backstory. I found myself getting exhausted by social media. Even though I loved connecting with people, over time my life just began to seem louder and louder. And social media never sleeps. Never stops. So I started feeling as if I couldn't either. It seemed as if I stepped away from my screen, then surely I would miss something vital.
At the same time, I started to learn more about what keeping the Sabbath really means. I found out that it's about physical rest, yes, but also about a deeper rest of the heart. It's saying to God, "I'm not in control. You are. And to reaffirm that, I'm stepping away for a certain period of time each week." My friend Bonnie Gray also showed me that rest is about celebration. It's taking time to savor our blessings. It slows time so we can fully enjoy what God has given.
Over time my weariness and God's gentle Word convinced me I needed a Sabbath. I had tried to set aside time like this before but it always felt more like an obligation. This time it seemed like a gift. And it was. I started awkwardly. I put down my iphone and paced the house. What would I do now? What was happening without me? It took a long time for my heart to get quiet. But it finally did.
And here's the most important lesson I've learned: Yes, I need the actual rest on my Cyber Sabbath. But I need the lesson it teaches me about the other six days even more. Because despite my fears, nothing has exploded in my absence. I haven't missed the tweet of a lifetime. The social media stream flows on just fine.
That can only mean one thing. The world {wide web} doesn't revolve around me. Or you.
We both say, "Well, sure, I know that." But sometimes that's not how we live. And when we live that way, we forget not only who we are but who God is.
Sabbath realigns us with love. It reminds us we're not created for tasks but for relationship. It reassures our hearts that we're not slaves but instead cherished sons and daughters. It relieves us of the burden of controlling our own lives.
Because we're under grace and not law, I don't believe there's a "one size fits all" Sabbath. What you and I define as work is different. So what looks like rest to us is different too. If you do physical work {like chasing kids} all week, then the internet may be the most peaceful place for you because it lets you have a physical break. Only you and God know what you need.
Picture the Sabbath as a beautiful box with a bow on top–a separate space in your week that's wrapped in God's love for you. What he places within it is unique to each of us. Will you open it and see what he has especially for you this week?
"Sabbath is both a day and an attitude...It is both a time on a calendar and a disposition of the heart. It is a day we enter, but just as much a way we see. Sabbath imparts the rest of God–actual physical, mental, spiritual rest, but also the rest of God–the things of God's nature and presence that we miss in our busyness." – Mark Buchanan, The Rest of God
XOXO
Holley Gerth
:angel:
Running Out of Reasons Why I Don't Need God
Why We Need to Thank God for Our Problems
Jun 11, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
When my husband and I bought our second house, it was a fixer upper.
Which is a nice way to say we bought a dump.
The weeds in the backyard were taller than I was on tiptoes, the walls were peeling, the bathrooms were stained, the appliances were broken and the carpet was scary. And that was just the beginning.
But as ugly as it looked on the surface, it was ours.
And that made it pretty special. Or ugly special, whatevs.
One night after my husband repaired shelves in the master closet, he rehung all of our clothes on the rod. He moved on to the next project on our list, which happened to be sitting on the sofa because home repair is exhausting. Just as we sat down, we heard a horrific crash. When we opened the closet door, not only had the rods come out of the wall, so had the, um, wall. Huge holes were not exactly functional.
I wanted to cry. And did. I was 9 months pregnant and our air conditioner was about to break, the new church job wasn't a good fit and so the broken closet fit in perfectly with all the brokenness around me.
It seemed like everything we touched crumbled.
The more things fell apart the more we fell into Jesus.
That was more than ten years ago and I can see now what I couldn't then: every ounce of sweat equity we poured into that house would pay off when the market spiked and provided enough money for us to start over. Every tear we cried in that hard place would propel us into a better one.
We can't see where today's problem might lead us. Or what good may come of our current struggle.
But we can trust this: Our problems lead us to Jesus. Our desperation puts us face to face with a God who can fix broken things.
He is the storm calmer. He is the cleft in the rock. He is our strong tower in the battle. He is. There.
I don't know what you're facing today. You may need more money than you can imagine, more healing than doctors say possible, more answers for your questions. You're on the path to God. Because when we can't, He can.
So, first, thank Him for the problem. Then ask Him to show you a way out. When we focus on Christ instead of the tough spot we're in, it might not change our situation immediately, but it changes us. Which is even better.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
Jun 11, 2013 01:10 am | Anne Taylor
A few years ago, I spent a summer training for a half marathon. That year, life was in shambles. Stress and worry consumed me, and I was facing challenges unlike anything I'd ever encountered. Every move I made was calculated to try to regain peace, but my belief in self-reliance was wavering as summer approached.
That summer at home began as it always does, with a 10k that happens every Memorial Day. I was walking through the race expo, eyeing all the runners. They had an energy in their step that I craved. Hope was palpable. I walked up to a running club's tent, asked a few questions, and signed up on a whim to train for a half marathon, a distance I'd never imagined I'd ever take on.
I woke up every Saturday at six in the morning that summer, tied up my laces and drove out to the trail. I'd greet my running buddies between yawns, and off we'd go for three miles, five miles, twelve miles, talking about life and love everything in between. Running became my sacred time. Every other moment of the day was shrouded in hardship, but the few hours I spent with my feet on the pavement were full of light and trust and healing.
Looking back, I realize how serendipitous that season of life was. A moment in time that cannot be recreated. I have tried, I assure you. Life will get hard again, and I'll think, This can be solved by another half marathon, only to quit after two weeks. I trick myself into thinking that I have all the answers, and the reason why light overtook the darkness of that summer was because I was in control.
I am solution hungry, a problem solver, a rescuer. When times get tough, I immediately rack my brain for the steps to take that will soothe my worries and iron things out. I like to be in control. I like the routine of a wake up time, a planned breakfast, a training schedule.
Here's the thing: running requires trust and acceptance. What is before you is all there is. A cadence of one foot in front of the other, a breeze between your fingers as they glide back and forth against your body, the sky above you and the road beneath you.
It is in these sacred moments when it becomes apparent that reliance on God is the only way forward. Times get tough, my body starts to hurt, my heart is pounding and I am out of breath – but somehow, I am still running. I am still moving, I am still alive. No self-made solution will ever equal the sustenance that God provides when I give up control and let life come as it will.
It is easy to forget about the sweat and the tears and the pain, and how God lit the path before my feet that summer, not me. But the important thing to remember is that no matter how many times we mess up and think we can fix it on our own, God always shows up, always turns the light on, always sets up a half marathon training tent. We can and will say, "I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me?"
"The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different." (Romans 7:25, The Message)
No matter the challenge, no matter our belief that we can do it all on our own, God shows up. His peace cannot be manufactured. The hope we crave, the energy we long for, is a product of the faithful One's desire to shower us with love, to teach us about perseverance, to reveal to us the sacredness of life, of the bodies we have, the bodies he resides in, the bodies that can and will keep moving.
by Anne Taylor, Anne the Adventurer
:angel: :angel:
When people you love make choices you hate
Jun 13, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
The anguish in her voice broke my heart.
She had just confirmed her father's affair with another woman after months of speculation, separation and conversation. Hers is a version of the same story I've heard before from others I love, and it stings my heart to listen again.
She asked me hard questions, the kind that don't really call for answers, the words that help you wrestle through Things That Ought Not Be. Questions incensed with fiery righteous indignation and understandably so.
How could he do that to her? How could he do that to us? How could he...?
I was angry for her, once again a witness to the fallout and consequence of someone else's selfish, self-serving choices.
It comes packaged in so many ways–
You learn your teenage daughter – a leader in her youth group and a missions trip veteran – has been sexually active at the same time you discover she's pregnant.
You find your spouse has been making risky financial decisions for years without your knowledge or input, destroying your credit and bringing you to bankruptcy's cliff.
Randomly deciding to use the car your son's been driving, you find cigarettes and a lighter tucked away in the side of the door...and you can't decide whether or not to be relieved that "at least" it's not what your neighbor found in her son's room–illegal drug paraphernalia.
The friend you considered your best, your secret keeper, your kindred, curiously drops out of your life, becomes close to others, never explains why.
Your parents' marriage crumbles when your dad confesses his involvement with another woman, and his profession of love for her poisons your relationship.
No man is an island, no woman lives in a vacuum, and as much as we'd like to compartmentalize, our actions and decisions affect those around us...even if that's not our intention.
So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. ~ Colossians 3:12-15 (NASB)
There's a reason God commands us to love and forgive; if it were optional, I'm convinced we wouldn't.
But people make it so hard, don't they? And in response, aren't we inclined to make our love and forgiveness conditional?
When your life is rattled or upside-downed by the decisions and actions of others, how are you supposed to move beyond the immediate offense, pain and betrayal? Is that even possible?
I believe love and forgiveness are possible and even in every circumstance.
I'm not talking about Christian cliche or pat answer; this is no easy response or simple act of the will. In fact, it's the exact opposite.
Love and forgiveness are possible when we surrender our right to have rights, when we relinquish any sense of entitlement–
to expect others to behave how we want them to
to withhold a loving/forgiving response until they're truly repentant or compliant
when we're the wronged party, or in any obvious sense, are "right"
The ability to love and forgive without condition demands that we practice what we profess.
Supernaturally – because I don't see how I can do this in my own strength – I have to take God at his word and believe that his ways are better than mine.
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. ~ Isaiah 55:8-9
In every situation, there are as many different stories being written as there are people being touched by the circumstance.
Does it help you to know that God is accomplishing his purposes in each of them?
There's redemption in awful circumstances to trust that God is accomplishing his purposes in you, in me. It gives us hope to cling to, even when our feelings are screaming the opposite. My perspective has evolved over a number of years during hardships I'd rather forget; I've said it before and it bears repeating here:
God is good, only good, and I fully believe out of this goodness, he has shaped my thinking to trust whatever circumstances occur in my life – the good and the difficult – are intended for my good, his glory, and in some way, the advance of the gospel.
The battle my friend is fighting finds her trudging through the mud and muck to claw for a way to honor, love and forgive her father when his behavior gives her reason to sever their relationship. Hers is one battle in a sea of countless...like the battles you're facing...and I offer you what I'm praying and speaking over her–
Consider what you can learn about yourself and others in the midst of the circumstance...
Trust that God can redeem this for good in your life, especially as you enter into greater intimacy with him...
Realize your testimony is being told through your response to the situation.
Be mad. Get angry. Scream and cry and punch all the pillows in your house.
And then love and forgive.
Because you are loved and forgiven.
❤ Robin Dance
:angel:
Meet You At The Red Light" (and other things my Daddy taught me)
Jun 15, 2013 01:20 am | Deidra
You know how you grow up in a house with people all around you saying and doing the same things all the time, and you just figure that's how things are in everyone's house? Then, you go to visit one of your girlfriends and you realize not everyone puts sugar on their spaghetti, or sings out loud to Broadway soundtracks, or roller skates in their basement for fun.
Last night, with Father's Day just around the corner, I started thinking about what it was like growing up in the house with my Daddy. It was fun, I tell you. My dad is da bomb! Poor thing, he lived in that house with my mom, my sister, and me, and all of our hormones and mood swings and drama, and he took it all in stride. We even had a female cat. "Yeah," he'd say, "I'm outnumbered in my own house." And then he'd drive us to ballet, or to cheerleading practice, or to get our hair pressed and curled. Or, he'd lie on his back on the floor in the dining room and I'd lay there next to him and we'd listen to Lena Horne singing through the speakers on my dad's hi-fidelity stereo. Some days, our family of four would go for a bike ride; my dad in the lead. On car trips, he'd suddenly belt out a line of "Down In The Valley" just to keep things interesting. Good times.
My dad gave the best advice. He still does. Here are just a few of his one-liners:
1. We don't have money for that. Every Sunday after church, we passed by McDonald's, and nearly every Sunday, I tried to convince my dad to turn into the parking lot and buy me a Happy Meal. I pleaded. I begged. I probably even pouted, and I don't remember a single time that my dad pulled into that parking lot. "We don't have money for that," he'd say, as I watched the golden arches pass me by. It was years before I realized my dad wasn't saying he didn't have a dollar in his pocket. He had the dollar. He just wasn't going to spend it on a spontaneous Happy Meal.
2. Don't sign anything without reading it first. I don't remember why or where my dad told me this, but I read everything, and I do it because he told me so. If my signature is on it, I've read every word. It annoys people sometimes. They want to tell me, "This part just says such-and-such, and this over here says so-and-so..." and I say, "OK. Thanks. I'll read it." Sometimes it takes two seconds, sometimes it takes two days. But I'm reading that bad boy before I sign it.
3. Pay with your credit card, then go immediately to the customer service desk and pay the bill. It was the first lesson I learned about building my credit, and I passed it along to my own children. But not after I'd tried it my own way, run up a ridiculous amount of debt, and had to take the slow and winding road to paying off all that debt. It's good advice. I wish I'd paid attention the first time he said it.
4. If today is "the last chance to buy" it, there's a good chance you don't need it today. You know how people on television say, "Call now!" or you go to the store and the salesperson tells you, "This offer may not last," or "This offer is only good for the next hour." Yeah. My dad's not buying that — not literally, and not figuratively. Just give me your best price. Today or tomorrow. Doesn't matter. Don't make a big deal of it. Just be honest, and give me your best price.
5. They'll call back if it's important. Back when we just had one telephone in the house and it was attached to the wall in the kitchen, I can remember being outside with my dad and hearing the phone ring, all the way inside the house. My dad would simply keep doing what he was doing. We didn't have an answering machine, and I'd be panicked that my dad was ignoring the phone. "The phone's ringing," I'd say. "They'll call back if it's important," my dad would answer. I think back to those moments when my phone chimes to tell me I have a new text message, or Facebook lets me know someone has updated their status. Sometimes I'm tempted to let that piece of information distract me from the moment I'm in and the people I'm with. But if it's important, they'll call back.
6. Meet you at the red light. Some days, on the way home from church, or on the way to ballet lessons, or on one of those road trips, someone would go speeding past my dad, in a hurry to get around him and to who knows where. "Meet you at the red light, buddy," my dad would say as the car sped by. Sure enough, a few minutes later, we'd stop at a red light and — lo and behold — there would be that speedy car, in the lane right next to ours. Sometimes all that rushing doesn't add up to much more than a little extra gas and a longer wait at the intersection.
7. God loves you. When my dad talks about Jesus, and how God has always made a way, and how the Holy Spirit sees him through the tough times, he gets all choked up. He's not ashamed. He doesn't hold back. He's a hugger. He's never met a stranger. People meet my dad and they are instantly in love, and that's not hyperbole. He's a cool guy, and he has been saved by grace, and he's not shy about it. People may not always realize just what it is that makes him tick, but the truth is my dad knows that he knows that he knows God loves him, and he knows God loves you, too.
So, Happy Father's Day, Daddy, one day early. Thanks for making it easy for me to see God as a Father who loves me, just the way I am.
:angel:
Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart
and with all your soul and with all your strength.
These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts.
Impress them on your children.
Talk about them when you sit at home
and when you walk along the road,
when you lie down and when you get up.
Deuteronomy 6:4-7
:angel:
The Divine Appointments
Jun 17, 2013 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels
The dishes piled high in the sink.
The laundry basket is overflowing.
The careless word from his tongue.
The blog post that hasn't been written.
The "what if" and "how am I going to" worries drowning out courage.
The fear that grips you when you are asked to serve.
The phone call from a friend that changes the course of your plans.
The important meeting you insist you are too tired to go to.
Every day it seems like I have to "let go, so I can let God."
I say I fully trust God but yet, when I have a choice, I prefer to be the problem solver. I'll handle this one, God. I like to be on top of things. I've got this day planned out, thank you. I prefer to be in control of my time and make the decisions that suit my personality, my schedule, my needs.
But sometimes He asks me to do the impossible.
The uncomfortable. The inconvenient. The frustrating. The exhausting.
He sends Divine Appointments to knock at my door or sends me a text when I had other plans.
He asks me to LET GO of MY PLANS and SHOW UP to HIS.
I have to let go and let God every.single.day.
When I'm crazy behind on work but I am asked to let it go so I can make it to church on time to greet someone new.
When my husband asks to spend the evening with me and I see the dishes are piled high in the sink and the blog post is still unwritten, I pray God will give me the grace to let the dishes stay for awhile longer.
When a friend calls asking to meet and I was about to crawl into bed for much needed sleep, I pray God would be like caffeine to my exhaustion so through my "yes" He can heal a wound and offer encouragement to a weary soul.
When a word that stings deep slips through to my heart, I pray I can model God's grace and forgiveness.
When I've already given my fair share and God asks me to give or do a little more, I pray He'll pry open my hand and remind me He can be trusted.
It's not about me. There is so much more going on in God's agenda for the day than what I had planned or what I can see.
I pray God can open my eyes a little wider to see what is unseen, make my stubborn heart a little more sensitive to His concerns, and make my weary feet arrive where He wants them to be.
So we fix our eyes on not what is seen, but on what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:18
:angel:
On Puzzle Pieces and Courage
Jun 18, 2013 01:20 am | Anna
We shared a week together at Bible camp, me a college counselor and she a high school camper. We prayed, drank hot chocolate, stayed up talking into the night, held our hands high in worship, sat in the cool canteen, and played field games. All our activities were threaded together with the love of Christ.
Our faith grew that week as we connected and shared pieces of our hearts. She took home a puzzle piece that I gave her, reminding her that she was one piece in a vast puzzle that – though we'd never see assembled – we knew we were an intrinsic part of. A part of a community bigger than we could literally see.
And without that one piece, there would be a hole. You've done a puzzle with a missing piece – the hole it leaves detracts from the bigger picture, right? She mattered to that community, to that puzzle.
Years and college degrees and weddings and children later, we re-connected through the (in)courage 'unconference', (in)RL. I was a co-host of her local meet-up, and she asked in a comment if I had worked at that Bible camp. When we met on the day of (in)RL, laughing and sharing pictures of our baby boys who have the same name, we felt our puzzle pieces coming together. God was giving us a glimpse of the bigger picture, of the whole that only He knew.
We both felt a tug towards encouraging women – specifically, working mothers of young children. When (in)courage announced their new (in)couragers community groups, we knew this was the place for us. And so she & I opened up a shiny new Facebook page, threw open the doors, poured the coffee, and invited women in to breathe.
Isn't it lovely how God uses ordinary, simple things to do extraordinary work? To truly speak into our hearts and lives and fill up our souls? And isn't it wonderful how He lives on the internet? We gather online, in pockets and corners, to encourage and be together when we can't actually be together, and to share our hearts. (in)courage has truly become a 'home for the hearts of women online' where we can gather, and through (in)couragers groups we can take it one step deeper with women who share our circumstances.
Is it scary? Yes! To share our stories and ask for friendship with strangers is never easy. But let's look at where we all gather right now, at incourage.me. The name says it all – in courage. In courage, we join in. In courage, the group leaders and mentors have stepped up. In courage, we offer bits of our stories. In courage, we pray for one another. And only in courage can friendships be built.
Each of us holds a puzzle piece. Each of us has a place in this community. Without our individual piece, there is a prominent hole that our eyes are drawn to. You matter. There is a place for you here. And whether you join a group and talk every day, or quietly listen, or become a prayer warrior for others, or ask others to pray for you... no matter the level of your involvement, your presence has taken courage and it does not go unnoticed.
In our small yet mighty group, all working mothers of young children, we found community. Real, authentic, beautiful community. We laugh out loud and cry real tears. We lift each other up to the One who has gathered us there, and rest in His presence. And this spring several of us met outside the screen as she & I hosted a local (in)RL meet-up. Our puzzle came together – all because of a week at Bible camp, a shared passion for encouragement, and a God who wove it all together.
:angel:
Please Don't Let Me Disappear
Jun 19, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
I shake my head as I flip through our family photo album. Page after page of pictures and I'm not in any of them.
There was a day several years ago when my daughter asked me, "Mommy, I see Daddy with us, but where were you all that time?"
Crickets.
Teeth gritting.
Tongue biting.
My children are going to grow up thinking I was an absent mother. Years from now, they will look through these albums and shake their heads, At least daddy loved us. Look at all of those family vacations he took us on all by himself!
Never mind that I was the one hanging upside down from the rafters to get those adorable shots of my family.
So few of our photos have me in them. What about me?! Why can't someone else be thoughtful enough to take pictures every now and then? What does it always have to be me?!
To prove my existence in the family, I often resorted to taking shots like this one:
I am very mature and am always sure to keep the real problems of the world in perspective. I also never blow things out of proportion or have unrealistic expectations of people.
Joking aside, sometimes it's those annoyances of our everyday that carry hints into the secrets we carry in our souls.
I'm tempted to just say I'm being ridiculous. That may be true – but what also may be true is that there is something deeper going on.
Sometimes annoyance is just annoyance. But not always.
Why does this bother me really?
***
John and I go on a date, sit outside MCoul's under the twinkle lights. We share an appetizer and without thinking I snap a shot of his profile with my phone. I like the way he looks just now, looking off into the distance.
Before I can stop myself, I ask him why he never takes photos of me. I recognize a touch of anxiety within me as I anticipate his response.
My question surprises him, and he answers with, "I don't know. Pictures just aren't that important to me. I'd rather have the real thing."
He's flirting.
I smile, look down.
"Do you wish I took more photos of you?" He asks genuinely, not realizing this is a thing.
I immediately feel stupid – Why is this a thing? It's not like I like to have my picture taken. I don't necessarily like looking at my picture when it is taken, either. I'm not all hey look at me! ish.
I am challenged to be honest even though I don't know what it means. I admit to him I wish he took more photos of me. When he asks why, I don't have an answer.
***
I once heard Dr. Larry Crabb say the deepest fear of a woman is invisibility.
At first glance, I disagree. Invisibility would be awesome! Superpower anyone?
But the more I think about it, the more I can say I understand. I can't speak for every woman, but I can say for me invisibility is a legitimate fear.
I don't want attention or spotlights or even to be looked at, necessarily.
I want to be seen. I want to be known for who I am, seen on the soul level, regarded. Please don't let me disappear. Please turn your head in my direction, look into my eyes, and see me.
Maybe that's what it is with me and photos – I want to know my husband sees me. On the surface level, photos would be proof.
But a photo isn't really what I want.
John and I have been married for 12 years this month. Like most marriages, our relationship has always been changing, but over the past two years it has changed the most, mainly because my husband is beginning to see me. He is curious over me. He moves toward me – even when I am frantic and chaotic – with courage and intention.
It hasn't always been that way. And he still doesn't take pictures of me.
But now I don't care as much.
Are there any situations in your life right now that are causing you anxiety or even minor annoyance? Might you be willing to take a closer look and see if there is anything deeper going on?
:angel:
Many Are The Plans
The Cost
Jun 20, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I've been thinking a lot about the cost of marriage lately... which should shock none of you. (Hi, I'm Annie and I'm the single one around these parts.)
(And before I go much further, let me just bounce this in here: you aren't all going to like this post. I'm okay with it. I'm not sure I like it either. But I want to talk about it with you, whether we are happy with the outcome or not.)
I like how I spend my life.
I spend a lot of time with college students here in Nashville that are part of our college ministry at church.
To be fair, I spend a lot of money on college students as well – buying meals when we eat, grabbing coffee, finding a book I think they need.
I also spend a lot of time with my friends. Pretty much, I spend as much time as I want with my friends.
I spend a lot of time reading and a lot of time writing.
I get to spend my money how I want to, albeit as wisely as possible.
Also? I sleep in the middle of the bed.
I've really grown to appreciate how I get to spend my life – doing the ministry I love with the people I love. And in July, I'm going to the beach. I know what day I'm going down there, but I don't know what day I'm coming back.
Because it's my life and I get to spend it how I want.
I've wanted to be married since I was old enough to define the word. I'm not sure what God is doing in my heart and mind, but I spend some portion of every day lately being really grateful for exactly the life I have right now.
I wonder if this selfish single living for my entire adult life has made my brain start to not desire anything else? Is this an effect of being almost 33 and single? That what I currently have actually looks better than what I've always wanted?
Or maybe this is right? Maybe this is what it means to be content with where you are? Is this an effect of being almost 33 and single and being (gasp) okay with that?
My friend Lyndsay wrote a very interesting piece about the complexities of being single after college and the lack of rose-colored glasses once you reach a certain point. And I think she may be right – I never saw the cost of marriage as a 21 year-old college graduate. I just saw it as EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED.
And it is. I still want that. I still think God gives us beautiful gifts in relationship and I hope that marriage is a part of His story for me, even if unforeseen costs are attached.
Because you know what I haven't factored into a single sentence of this post?
Love.
We are willing to give up lots and give lots for love.
Had I gotten married at 23, I would have never known any different. I would not know this travel-when-you-want, do-what-you-want, minister-where-you-want, it's-all-about-what-I-want lifestyle.
I'd be a mom (I bet). And I'd be in love (I hope). And it would probably be awesome.
So the rewards would be great. I know that.
But for today? 33 and single? The cost of giving up this life I love seems great, too. It seems that even the best gifts have some degree of taking up your cross, don't they?
I don't know.
People often say, "marriage won't complete you" and I used to respond with, "I'd like to prove that for myself" because seriously, quit saying stuff like that to single girls.
But the truth is? I know they are right.
Because even though I am single today? My life is complete.
. . . . .
Your thoughts are welcome here... let's talk about this. How do we fully embrace the season we are in without giving up hope for the next? Or can you only fully embrace when you think this is the best it is going to be?
by Annie Downs
:angel: :angel:
Jun 20, 2013 01:10 am | Crystal Stine
There are days that simply don't go as planned. Like the day I went through my entire morning routine, left for work, and didn't realize until I arrived for a meeting that I never put a stitch of make-up on my face.
Or the days when I set my alarm to wake early, to commit to reading the Word before my family rises, to find quiet time with God and ....my toddler decides it's a great night to need mommy. all. night.
As I've walked through this season of God Sized Dreams, praying that God would place on my heart a desire to do exactly what He created me to do, I've realized something. My plans don't matter. Sure, it would be great for all of my days to go exactly as I imagine, never forgetting to pack lunch or ... you know...hypothetically forget deodorant. Ahem.
But when it comes down to it? When I really pray about the plans God has for me, it's His agenda that I desire. My plans might look great on paper. I'm Type-A enough to actually have plans ON paper. I sit and imagine "if this happens, then I could do this, and then maybe they would offer me that and it could all work perfectly!" Those plans of mine are exhausting to create and would likely be even more tiresome to carry out to completion. God doesn't want worn out worship. He doesn't desire for His children, His daughters, to carry burdens of plans and agendas until our arms are so heavy we can no longer reach them to Him. He wants us to rest in Him, giving Him back the desires of our hearts so that He can plan, pave the way, and guide us.
We can come as we are to the foot of the cross with the deepest, wildest dreams of our hearts and know that we serve a God big enough, strong enough, wise enough to take them and make them beautiful in His time. He will take the parts of us that we don't think are good enough, the ones we forgot to put make-up on, the ones that might be less than perfect, and He will refine them until there is beauty from the ashes.
My plans will never be perfect. But I can rest in the arms of the One who knows exactly what to do with the dreams He's given me, trusting that His ways are best.
By Crystal Stine
:angel: :angel:
When God Does Things that Don't Make Sense
Jun 21, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne
We have been in a season lately of healing and redemption, but it's not been without many trials. We reached the point where we simply could do nothing – no pro and con list, no trying to be logical, nothing – but let the Lord guide. We had blown past what made sense or what was reasonable, and found ourselves on the other side. The place where nothing makes sense.
I could share several stories with you but here is the latest one, the one that is still a bit raw and confusing to me. It's the story of how God took us from a homeschooling family to a public school family.
We had lots of reasons for homeschooling, and they involved all kinds of things. And this isn't to really talk about that debate (because we know how that can get, right?), I strongly believe a family has to decide what is best for everyone in their home, and what path God leads them down, and it could be one of many paths (including home or public school). This is just the story of how God surprised us with a life change we didn't see coming, because he had already sent us in the opposite direction!
We re-evaluate every year our homeschooling choice, but the truth is we thought we would always homeschool. We never thought it would change, despite lots of other circumstances changing (where we lived, our financial state, etc.). I think doing school "differently" and to the beat of our own drum had become a part of our identity that we never saw shifting.
But then over the last month or so, a rumbling began inside of me. I started to notice some things at home and I started to wonder. We had some big changes in our house with my husband's work and the resulting shift in our family was huge. It started a ripple effect of sorts, which was what got me thinking outside the box and asking God what I was supposed to be doing. Most of all, I knew no one was happy, and I knew something had to change.
As I prayed over what that change was, the surprising thought that the kids might be headed to public school in the fall kept coming into my mind. I cannot emphasize enough how much we thought this would never be the path we would take. Soon I realized what God was pressing into my heart: we needed to give public school a try.
So they start at public school in the fall. And save for some Montessori preschool for my first born, they have never experienced this. It's going to be a BIG change for them, but friends are telling me that it will be harder on me than on the kids. The thought is painful but makes me soar a little bit with relief.
This decision doesn't make sense for us for many reasons, mostly because it's a right turn from the path God previously had us on. But we are doing it anyway. With a big leap of faith, prayers for grace and mercy, we will hop on this train and take the right turn and know that greatness is ahead.
Have you ever been on the path God sent you and then suddenly he told you to turn right? I would love to hear your stories!
:angel:
When Everything Changes
Jun 26, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
This past month, I've had the hardest time writing a single word because we've been in the limbo of packing and waiting for a move. Boxes stack to the ceiling and our closing date keeps moving, and we aren't sure what's happening. It's disorienting, and the only way I know how to describe it is that it feels a lot like willingly stepping into flood waters. Everything is swirling. I'm not sure which way is up. I tried to orient by organizing and throwing things away.
I tried to orient with a yard sale, by making room. There a woman tried to get a better deal on a pretty pillow, but I clung to it, trying to keep my head above water. Finally I let it all go. None of it kept me straight. In this flood, the yard sale whirled by.
We're getting another living area in our new house, and so to keep afloat, I've loaded cart after cart with beautiful rugs. I'm going to pick my favorite. I think it'll be so grand. I close my eyes at night and see patterned kilim and cotton dhurrie. I cling to one. It's going to be okay. Everything will so pretty, but then the rug sells out. Silly me. The flood has grown into a raging river, and I don't know how I'm breathing in it. The shoreline's a blur. The rug is gone.
It's my children, too. I reach for them to keep me up. On the last day of preschool, my third-born sang, and my heart raced. I wanted to stand and say "No, no, no. Slow this down." I'm reaching my hands out to grab on, but it's too fast. The kindergartener only a few days later sang, "I am a promise. I am a possibility." A great big yellow construction-paper sun beamed behind him and the rest of the class. I took photos of him and his best friend, all the promise in the world. I wanted to rip the sun down and fold it in my pocket, put it in a file. Before my oldest ran his first 5k, I held his face. He was just a baby. Now he runs toward a finish line.
There's no time or space for friends. I hardly get it together for my family. Surely it's a phase. I'm alone in the waters.
And then at church, we are singing, and I think I've inhaled the waters. I think I've gone under, and it's getting pitch black, but then my feet hit hard, and I'm lifted up. It's a root, a great big root, and I'm at the base of a tree, and I'm lifted. We're singing praises. We're thanking Jesus, and I see that I'm grafted. I can see it two ways. One way is temporary, and the other is eternal.
I see the whole rushing chaotic thing below me, how there is no other real way to keep above the slipping world than to open the eyes of my heart, not when a woman has four sons like me. Not when she has a past that threatens to swallow or a future that she can't control. I don't understand much right now. But I know this.
The only way to keep afloat is to cling to Jesus. He's not moving anywhere. He's established. The world will change in the blink of an eye, but Jesus Christ is the same. He was with me just yesterday. He's holding me up today, and tomorrow He's going to make sure I'm where I'm supposed to be.
Have you ever felt yourself overwhelmed by the flood when everything changes? How do your orient yourself?
By Amber at The Runamuck
:angel:
How to Live Your Best Life?
Jun 27, 2013 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp
"I don't have much time left, really."
My father's voice on the other end of the line reminds me of my grandfather's.
It's been nearly ten years since I heard that voice. I'm making beds. I can see Dad at his breakfast table.
"At best, maybe fifteen years. I'm on my last chapter." He pauses and I let the empty space beckon answers.
Grandpa died at eighty. Dad will turn sixty-three this coming year.
"I need a plan. I don't think I've had one."
I pull the sheets up, smooth out the bed's coverlet in coming light, then wait, listening to Dad think.
I'm hesitant to say anything. Best he find the way.
But I'm still, just standing here, knowing that we are moving out into hallowed ground. I wait. Then venture into the space with only a question.
"Well, how do you want that last chapter to read, Dad?"
"I want to end happy."
I sit on the edge of the bed, sunlight warm on my back, and ask slowly, "And what do you think brings happiness?"
He's probing in the silence, the back corners of being, looking for what lies in unexamined places. I'm praying.
"More farming."
"More farming?" I make an effort but I know the words still sound incredulous.
"My father farmed his whole life and made nothing . . . But he thought someday folks would pay farmers for their work. That might happen in my lifetime. Can't quit now. And maybe someday the grandkids will talk about how I could grow a crop of corn."
I can see Dad sitting at his table, looking out the bay window, watching rows of pride growing up into light.
"What about the people? The relationships?"
I let the words sit.
And he goes in another direction, approaches it all from the other side.
"Alan Strand called the other day." Every time I've seen Alan Strand, he's wearing denim coveralls, a worn-through cap.
"He was trying to figure out whether to spend the time he's got left restoring another tractor, buying a new engine for it — or if he should try to track down his daughter. He hasn't heard from her in ten years. Doesn't even know where she is."
Now this seems pretty obvious to me.
"And he decided?"
"The tractor."
I shake my head, only a bit stunned. The words dribble out. "He intentionally considered the options, voiced them to you . . . and then decided the tractor?"
"Yep. He knew how to do the tractor. Little risk. The daughter, she was all risk. And you know . . ."
I can't stop shaking my head. None of this makes any sense.
And yet it does.
"Do we give up what makes us really happy — farming, restoring tractors, writing, study, whatever we are good at — a lifetime of happiness—for a few days of happiness at the end? Do we sacrifice what makes us really happy day in and day out, for a few days of happiness with the people at the end?" Dad says it certain and I can hear the pain. "There are no guarantees with the people."
I'm stirred.
Before I can think, I rush along, finding what I'm looking for, my rock.
I say the words more to myself than to him, words leaving my mouth before I can think.
"Jesus said, 'He who loses his life will gain it.'"
The other end of the phone is quiet.
Tentatively, I step out a bit further. "Maybe making small sacrifices in personal pursuits – in the end we will know a happiness we couldn't have imagined."
I circle back, wondering if he's following.
"Maybe this is one way we live out what Jesus us calls us to." I say the words again, deliberately, for they seem new to me, richer in ways I hadn't considered. "He who loses his life will find it."
Dad lets his voice expose where he is. "Yeah. Maybe . . ."
I let him find his way . . .
"But maybe none of us can change really." His voice sounds so old . . .
"Great artists, great actors, great politicians, it's all the same. They do what makes them happy and that means they don't have much time for people. Balance is a hard thing. Nearly impossible if we are going to do something well. And we're wired the way we are. Maybe those around us just have to come to accept it."
I hurt inside.
"I am too old to change. I know farming." He sounds just like Grandpa.
Then he's talking about the price you can get for a bushel of corn and the weather forecast for the next few weeks.
And I'm thinking about the times I've been in my own bubble with my own agendas of accomplishments, drifting away from people and the true happiness disguised.
I'm remembering with a strange sadness a woman standing amidst the floral memorials of her mother's funeral, telling us of her mother's far-and-wide reputation for the important stuff of bleach and immaculate housekeeping.
I'm thinking about the time I've chosen to wash windows, tend a flowerbed, answer an email, instead of playing a game of bananagrams with a trio of loud boys, read an Eloise Wilken story to pleading eyes.
My pride was tangled up in the tasks.
Why doesn't it always matter more to love well?
Is it because relationships don't bring us paychecks or praise?
Loving well, stepping over hurt, laying aside self and desires, draws on more of our interior resources than investing in a career, a skill, a personal pursuit. And yet, there are no promotions. No public status. No guarantees.
Relationships grow only in the soil of humility, selflessness, open-handedness. Relationships are inherently risky: for all that, you can't control the outcome.
Investing in relationships requires courage. It mandates daily fortitude and intentionality to make moment by moment decisions to prioritize relationships while balancing vocational demands.
Do my daily decisions support my belief that relationship is the essence of reality? Or do I merely pay lip service to relationship — while the use of my hours clearly reveals true priorities?
The value of your life — is the value of your relationships. With God and men.
Dad's talking about what he's got to get done this week. I am my Father's daughter.
"Look at the time." I can see him turning there at the table, looking up at that clock ticking loudly over the kitchen sink. "And what am I doing sitting here? I've got so much to do and here I am talking the day away with you."
I have to smile. Dad's customary call always ends with this customary adieu.
"Always good talking with you, Dad."
And then he's gone.
Off to write more farming, more of what he's good at, into that last chapter of his life story. And I gather Bibles for church and more of hearing Jesus' words to come crucify self, words I need to hear again and I'll forget and need to hear again.
So we're on the cusp of a week of holidays, days of flag waving and patriotism.
Farmers don't know holidays. Livestock needs feeding 365 days a year. But we finish barn chores early, eat dinner, gather lawn chairs to head up to the lake and fireworks over water. Something we rarely did as kids. We try to make memories. We try to leave the work. We keep trying the investing in people.
Sun's sunk deep down into water, only a glow of embers burning along the horizon, when we haul our lawn chairs across the grass up at the lake. The shoreline's full of people. Shadows and glow necklaces and laughter and kids slurping blue freezies out of plastic.
I point straight ahead. Is there a spot there for the lawn chairs? The Farmer nods. Yes, there — there's enough room for us there.
There should be room enough for us there beside that silhouette with a farmer's cap. Kids run with their chairs slung over their shoulders.
The silhouette turns. The youngest turns. And then she laughs, running through shadows into shadows.
"Grandpa!"
He set aside self — he wrote sacrifice into his story.
I walk through shadows.
My hand finds the shoulder of that flannel plaid jacket and he finds my hand. He pulls me closer. He brushes my cheek with that leathery skin.
"Ann . . ." His voice is soft, full of things he can't say.
"Dad." I squeeze his hand, a long, lingering pulse of all I feel.
And then fireworks bloom.
These mirror images rock gently on water, two spaces merging and petals of color falling.
The children pull up on Grandpa's lap, lean in close.
And I think how children will talk about this yield of time.
How in our dark places, we sacrifice and find faces and light and happiness unexpected.
The skies explode. Light rains down. I am in this story with these people. What is the plan for this flash of days?
I look over at Dad.
We are not too old to take courage.
We are not too late to sacrifice.
We are not too lost to reach out to each other and linger on the rim of time.
Relationship is the art of sacrifice that makes the days a masterpiece.
Somewhere in our dark, we can forget all that is lost —
for the tender wonder of what could be found . . .
"He who has found his life will lose it, and he who has lost his life for My sake will find it." ~Jesus
Q4U: How do you feel about your relationships today? How have you been hurt? How have you been healed?
Will you join in the conversation here? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)
By Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience
:angel:
The Artistic You: Finding Your Heart's Way Back
Jun 30, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Photo by John-Morgan
I sat there, at one spot on a table that stretched long, parked adjacent to other tables, wrapping us into a square donut of seats.
Faces blinked back at me from across the room on the other side. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
I was at an artists meeting that night.
And I was the keynote speaker.
I walked into this room with two legs, I began.
But, if you could really look deep inside me tonight...
I took a big, shaky breath.
You would see that the legs to my soul... are broken.
My lips start to tremble and my hands start to cool and shake, even though it is a warm summer eve.
I gulp and continue.
The reason is — because you see — I've spent a lot of the hours of my days this year in my bed. In my home.
Afraid.
Not because I don't love to be with people.
But, because of panic attacks.
They were triggered by memories that have come alive — doing something I've always loved.
Something I've always dreamed of doing.
Writing a book.
Places Still Tender
This is how I introduced myself to a group of painters, designers, illustrators, poets, musicians... writers.
It sure didn't sound inspiring to me at all.
At one point, I even had to stop and collect myself.
I was overwhelmed by the surreal experience of recounting my story out in the open.
Even as I shared my story, I questioned whether there was any value in exposing pain that has been endured so privately.
I felt for sure I was making everyone feel uncomfortable and awkward.
Until I saw one woman's eyes start to tear. Then, another man's head dip, in a knowing nod.
There is beauty behind the pain.
These are the words I found myself speaking into the room with my new friends.
When you get closer to what truly moves your heart, you will touch the places that are still tender.
Because that creative place where you feel most safe is often where you've gone — when you've been most wounded.
Where do you go – to find safety, to express pain and beauty, in your world?
It's there — in those private places of freedom — where you meet with God and your creative self speaks.
That One Thing
When I finished speaking, I ended by asking if any parts of my story resonated?
The first question broke the silence.
"Have you always known you were a writer?" Someone asked.
I pause for a moment, to consider my answer. And the response I chose to give sparked a beautiful response — stories flowing from everyone's childhood around the table.
I've always been a writer, before I called myself one.
Writing has always been that one thing in my life — since I was a little girl — that no one could ever take away from me.
I didn't have to be good at it.
I didn't have to think about it.
Writing is just what I did.
It's the most natural thing I can do.
The artist in me is a little girl.
The Little Girl In You
"How about you?" I scan the gazes of new friends who suddenly feel closer than the space between us. "When you do your thing — play music, paint, design, blog about fashion, take cooking videos, build models, write, take photos — when you create — are you doing what came most naturally to you, as a child?"
Energy suddenly stirs the room, reminding me of the wind of the Holy Spirit that once blew through a room full of disciples gathering together. They began speaking in a way that was different — that drew people from the outside closer in.
That's what art does. It connects us to each other, in those places we are most vulnerable, opening what is private, finding language for what's unspoken. For what's important and real.
Everyone started telling their stories — of themselves — as little girls and little boys.
What they've always loved to do. Before they knew what it was called. Before it became a struggle to claim artistic enjoyment as God's legitimate imprint of Himself in us.
The artistic you. I discovered this is everyone's continuing journey of faith. To touch the artistic life we all hide deep inside. It's the artist's way. The child in you.
Is there an ember of God's creative voice flickering in you?
What is the one thing you've always enjoyed doing as a little girl, that felt most natural to you?
Take a moment to see yourself as that little girl right now. Where is she and what does she like to do?
As you picture her, let your heart find its way back to where it longs to return.
Because that artist in you is God's little girl.
"For I am mindful of the sincere faith within you...
For this reason I remind you to kindle afresh the gift of God which is in you...
For God has not given us a spirit of timidity,
but of power and love and discipline."
1 Timothy 1:5-7
Pull up a chair. Click to comment. Share from your heart and let's close the space between us. Your company warms this place here.
~~~~~
If you're on the journey of faith to walk out into the world, I'd love your company. Join me on my blog as we journey in community together. Let's keep speaking words of encouragement and friendship with each other in our faith stories — as it's being made and lived. As is.
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
What My iPhone Reminded Me About Parenting
Jul 01, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
Our home internet connection is a fickle and undependable thing. You can only imagine the state of our wifi network. My iPhone needs to update apps at least once a day (yet another sign that I should delete a few, if you ask my husband), which is usually an exercise in frustration.
Crazy as it sounds, God used something as simple as app updates to remind me of a valuable rule of parenting: persistence.
Typically when my apps start to update a message pops up and says Unable to Download Application: Done or Retry? I always hit Done.
If it didn't work the first time, why would it work the second?
After two weeks trying to update the same app, I finally hit the Retry button. That didn't work so I hit it again. And again. And again. Until it finished.
You know what? Each time I hit retry, the download didn't really start over. The status bar jumped to the point it had reached the last time and started from there. Every time it went a little further until finally the download was complete.
This taught me one thing and reminded me of another: I can be more stubborn than my internet connection, and sometimes even if you don't immediately achieve your desired end result, something is still being accomplished.
See, I've been frustrated in the parenting department lately. Are my kids listening to me? Sometimes it feels like I'm talking to the proverbial brick wall.
If you're a parent, you can probably relate.
The app update lesson made me think of these wise words in Deuteronomy:
Therefore shall ye lay up these my words in your heart and in your soul, and bind them for a sign upon your hand, that they may be as frontlets between your eyes.
And ye shall teach them your children, speaking of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.
And thou shalt write them upon the door posts of thine house, and upon thy gates:
That your days may be multiplied, and the days of your children, in the land which the Lord sware unto your fathers to give them, as the days of heaven upon the earth.
~Deuteronomy 11:18-21
If God believed your children were going to absorb all the valuable lessons he wants you to teach them on the first or second try, he wouldn't tell you to speak of them all the time (when you sit, walk, lie down, and rise up) or to write them upon the door posts and gates of your house.
Your kids may not want to hear you speak the same lessons over and over, but they need you to be consistent. They need to know that absolute truth exists and that you believe in it absolutely.
The world will hand them situational ethics, so you must teach ethics that stand up in hard situations. Be a safe place for them to test ideas and see if they hold water, but don't be afraid to speak truth.
"Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!" ~Isaiah 5:20
I remember a conversation with my father when I was in my mid-twenties. I told him my position on a political issue, something that I thought sounded good, that I felt I could support. His calm reply spurred me to ask more questions until I realized that I'd accepted face value without researching implications, taken a stand without understanding.
You're never too old to learn a lesson from your parents.
I remember things I believed as a teen, like "Who cares what anyone else thinks if I know I'm right?" Children can be foolish and stubborn. I was. I bet you were, too.
You aren't failing if your kids aren't perfect. Give them the same grace that your heavenly Father gives you. Give yourself some grace, too. Everyone else's children aren't perfect, either.
So what's a weary mom to do? Be persistent and consistent and pray that your children will come to know truth, as you dare to speak it and lay its foundation one day at a time. Hang in there.
Do you feel like you just keep hitting Retry? How can we pray for you in your parenting today?
{Please click over to my blog for a downloadable desktop calendar for July!}
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
Being Brave Enough to Be Real
Jul 02, 2013 01:10 am | Brandy Bruce
She and I hadn't seen each other in more than a year. My dear friend Laurie and I live in different states, so our lunch dates are rare and all the more special to me. I sat across from her at a quiet restaurant and gave her the quick update on my life: "Work is fine; my husband is fine; the kids are doing great; life is busy but good," and so on. Then I stopped. This was a very real friend who cared about more than just surface-level stuff. I could be honest with her.
"I don't want to pretend with you," I suddenly said. "My husband and I have had a rough few months. It's been hard. It's getting better, but we've gone through some of the hardest days in our ten-year marriage."
She didn't even blink, just nodded.
I'll be honest with you; even typing those words to you now makes my heart race a little.
It's not so easy, is it? Being real with people?
Going through difficult times is the opposite of fun. I'd choose fun any day of the week over moments of crying and hurt feelings. But here's what I shared with my friend that day:
"Laurie, I would never choose to go through that difficult time again. But I think God met me in those moments; I think He's using those moments. And I was so desperate for God's presence in my life that even in the pain, I felt relief. Relief that I could see God working in me again. Relief that this time I didn't doubt His involvement. Relief that when I needed Him, really needed Him, He was there. I'd reached a point where I wasn't sure anymore."
She shared a story with me that told me she understood exactly where I was coming from, and I felt this sense of gratitude. I'm not the only one desperate for God. I'm not the only one who has struggled with doubt. I'm not the only one who's had difficult moments propel her into God's arms.
I realized something after I opened up and told Laurie the truth of where I was at that moment in my life. The honesty felt good. In the midst of blogging and facebook and all the social media we send into cyberspace, our lives can look like a constant reel of highlights. We're always smiling in the pictures we post. But those are just snapshots of lives filled with good days and bad days and moments of pure joy and moments of brokenness.
All of us experience joy. But all of us go through difficult seasons of life too.
My husband and I celebrated our 10-year anniversary this year. We've been a couple for more than 14 years. We've had a great marriage and have two wonderful children. So when we hit a difficult place in our marriage, I was shocked. I expected ups and downs in our marriage, but only itty-bitty downs, I guess. Not trenches.
Before we hit the trench, I'd known my relationship with God had cooled into a distant but cordial relationship. I also knew it wasn't the best place for me, but I'd gotten used to it and hadn't taken the initiative to change it. The predicament between my husband and me changed that. What a blessing to realize that God was right there, waiting to help us get back on track. I realized that I was desperately longing for God to pursue me. I needed Him. And He still wanted me.
It was a life-changing lesson to learn and it's made all the difference in my marriage, my friendships, my role as a mother, and my heart as a believer.
By Brandy Bruce, A Little Bit of Brandy
:angel: :angel:
Happy 4th of July!
Jul 04, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
On this 4th of July, we are once again reminded of the privileges we enjoy–and we are exceedingly grateful for everyone who protects those freedoms. Thank you to the men and women serving our country–and thank you to the family and friends who love and support them.
Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
2 Corinthians 3:17
Happy Independence Day, friends! We wish you rest and refreshment, fun with family and friends, an endless supply of chocolate and a frizz-free hair day no matter how you celebrate!
:angel:
For When You Fail
Jul 06, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
Last week was bad.
Not the kind of bad you can blame on a broken dishwasher or a lost job or someone else.
It was a week filled with me, failing.
I wasn't a great mom or a good wife. I yelled too much and didn't listen enough. I was short-tempered and impatient and just generally stressed. My family was frustrated with me.
At one point, I finally put myself in time out, which is another way of saying, I locked myself in my bedroom and ate a lot of chocolate and left my husband in charge of All The Things. My cat joined me and within minutes she was mad at me too.
Sure, I can come up with excuses that might justify some of my behavior. But I had a choice how to handle my frustrating week.
And I failed.
It hurts to admit it, even though we all have days (weeks) like that.
We live in a world that doesn't like failure. It's ugly and messy. Our world wants perfection: Perfectly manicured people who never mess up.
Maybe it's because when we fail, there are always a handful of people ready and waiting to point it out. Failure makes us uncomfortable, unless it's in someone else and then it's news.
Failure makes us want to cover up our mistakes, to excuse them. Failure makes us want to run away.
But we were created to fail. Because it's in our failure that we see our need for Jesus, the One who never fails.
Through my mistakes and pain and spills and why am I freaking out about a sticky floor-kind-of-day, I am drawn to the One who runs to me. He does not turn away from my shortcomings. He is not afraid of my humanity.
I cut my hand chopping veggies the other night, before I could even grab a towel, the blood in my body rushed to the wound. That's what it was created to do. Our blood was designed to wash out the impurities and clot to protect us.
It's a lot like the wounds in life. When I fail as a parent or a wife or person, Jesus' blood goes to my injured heart. It rushes to the place I hurt. Because that's what it was created to do.
"But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin." (1 John 1:7)
He is there to wash away my regret and my sin, to help me forgive myself, to remind me that every day is full of new mercies.
Because really failure is an opportunity for grace, to give it to others and receive it for ourselves.
When I fail, it's the perfect time to fall into Him.
by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.
Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves
be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
Galatians 5:1
:angel:
Blessed is the Nation
Jul 08, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Studio JRU
Along with the month of July comes fun parades and picnics. The melting ice cream and jumping into swimming pools. Those delicious barbecues and beautiful fireworks. This is the month in America that we celebrate our nation and we celebrate our freedom.
We have so much to be grateful for. This freedom is a gift many have sacrificed to protect. It is a gift from God. It is a gift that was purchased at a high price on that cross.
Remember Him. Honor Him. We must choose how we will use our freedom. Wholeheartedly for Christ.
For you have been called to live in freedom, my brothers and sisters. But don't use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love. Galatians 5:13 NLT
To know God is to be blessed.
This scripture is in our home as a reminder of the gift of freedom we have in Him. I would love to share it with you. You can just click on the image {a free PDF printable} and you will be able to open or download the image, that you can then print to use in your own home.
Personal use only, please. (And for those of you who have asked, the print is also available in my shop.)
In our home, I put this print in an 8″ x 10″ black frame. The print is 5″ x 7″.
Using our freedom to serve one another in love... what a wonderful thing that is.
So how do you use your precious gift of freedom? We would love to hear!
By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:
When My Happy Gets Bumped
Jul 09, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst
Most days, I wake up fairly happy. It's not like I wake up in the mood for a party but generally I'm not grumpy when I arise. I wake up and things seem pretty good, level, and fresh with possibilities. And then inevitably something will bump into my happy.
An early morning meltdown by one of my people. It's amazing what a bad hair day can do to a teenager's attitude.
Or a forgotten something for school. And one of my people wants their irresponsibility to suddenly become my emergency.
Or an e-mail from somebody who clearly gets high from trying to bring others down.
Or me misjudging our time and suddenly everything is rushed and hurried and stressful.
Or my husband Art fussing because he wants to keep the house at 68 degrees and I can't stop shivering until the temperature hovers closer to 72. It's amazing how much of a difference 4 degrees makes. (Seriously, 68 is like living in an ice cave. I'm just saying.)
Anyhow, things happen. Things that bump into my happy. And suddenly I'm a little off kilter and a little less nice.
Can you relate?
Well, I'm learning something about a little mental perspective I need to have when things bump into my happy. In that moment, Satan is scheming to have me help him out. If he can just get me jostled to the point where I react out of anger, it's like lighting a spark near a puddle of gasoline.
Even the smallest spark can ignite quite a fire. A fire that will spread and feel much bigger than what the situation ever should have been.
Take the temperature discussion for example.
It should be just a simple discussion. But, add a little anger and suddenly things in my brain escalate to the point where I've just about convinced myself Art is completely insensitive and couldn't care less about me.
Is that true? Of course not. He just likes to sit in his house without sweating. Surely, we could find a compromising temperature or I could go put on some socks and a sweatshirt.
Instead, when he bumped my happy, I sparked, and a 'growth opportunity' ensued that left us both feeling a little burned.
In other words, I played right into Satan's scheme and helped him out. Remember, Satan's very name means one who casts something between two to cause a separation. Be it a temperature issue, tight finances, a misunderstood statement, or one of the millions of little things that can bump our happy... we must remember we do have a choice.
We can choose to play into Satan's schemes and add to his attempts to separate us from God's best.
Or, we can choose to fight for our relationships and against Satan's attempts to trip us up.
When I think about it in these terms, it helps me realize who my real enemy is.
My real enemy isn't any of the people that bump my happy. My real enemy is the one who tries with all his might to get me to jump into a grumpy mood and help him tear down all that I love.
Well, you better back up and back off, Satan. I'm on to your schemes. And I have a totally new game plan for when my happy gets bumped. Starting with finding just the right pair of socks and a sweatshirt to wear in the ice cave I share with my burning hunk of love named Art.
What bumps your happy and sends you off kilter? Could this realization that it's not just you feeling jostled but a scheme of Satan's to separate give you a different perspective? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.
By Lysa TerKeurst
For more encouragement on the days when your happy gets bumped, check out Lysa's book Unglued. Click here to get your copy!
:angel: :angel:
Love In The Dark
Jul 09, 2013 01:10 am | Danielle Ayers Jones
As he sat there in the dirty, stinking, cell with his back against the cold wall, Joseph had every reason to be miserable.
Sold by his brothers as a slave into a foreign land, he'd risen to "top slave" in Potiphar's house. He'd been responsible and in charge of his master's possessions. And what was his reward? Because of his purity and respect for both his God and his master, he'd been thrown into prison, all because he wouldn't sleep with Potiphar's wife. She'd taken her revenge for his refusal, seeing to it that he would rot in jail.
Yes, Joseph had every reason to be downcast, depressed, and disheartened.
But then there's this sentence, sitting right there, in the dark with Joseph:
"But the LORD was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison" (Genesis 39:21, ESV).
I wonder how Joseph felt that steadfast love. There were no Bibles in his day. Was it through prayer? A voice? A feeling?
God didn't show Joseph love by rescuing him or changing his circumstances. Oh, we know Joseph eventually gets out, but Joseph didn't know that was in his future. Joseph was in prison for over two years, that much we know for sure. And somehow, in the dark of prison, God was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love.
The phrase steadfast love in Hebrew is hesed. It is a word that has no exact parallels in English. It is also often rendered as "loving-kindness" in many translations.
I have to admit this verse took me by surprise the other morning when I read it. It was almost shocking.
When circumstances have turned for the worse in my life—whether it's been my parents separating or my husband losing his job—I'm tempted to ask God "why me?" I want out. I wonder if God's punishing me for doing something wrong.
But here's what Joseph's story teaches me: I can be smack in the center of God's plan for my life and experience His love in the midst of dark, hard, confusing, and seemingly hopeless circumstances.
God was building character in Joseph during all those hard years. He was making him into the man he needed to be once he was released and would become one of Egypt's most powerful men.
And so, when I face hard times and uncertainty, I want to open myself up to God. I want to ask, what character does God want to build in me? And I want to experience God's precious steadfast love in the midst of whatever dark, dirty, and stinky circumstances that come my way.
By Danielle Ayers Jones, danielleayersjones.com
:angel: :angel: m
For When We Have to Wait
Jul 10, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
I gave up mothering for a frozen pizza last night.
It was Sunday night after a long weekend and I opened the freezer. Score. A frozen Tombstone. I preheated the oven to 400 and flopped back down on the sofa.
This mama is done. Over it. Exhausted and Sunday night lite-dinner was going to be frozen pizza.
I had no guilt. I carried no shame. Frozen pizza is an entirely acceptable Sunday night dinner for a tired family.
My husband offered to pop the pizza in and he set the timer. The pizza came out of the oven 20 minutes later and needed to cool on the counter.
The smell of hot pepperoni must have spurred something in the girls' stomachs because not 30 seconds passed before one of them wailed "I'm hungreeee!"
I looked over at her, "Seriously? Pizza is out and it's cooling. You can wait five minutes."
"But I can't!!" She came back at me.
"Of course you can." I reassured her.
"Eat a banana," my husband piped in.
{In our house, "eat a banana" is the panacea for most ailments}
She just couldn't wait. Waiting is hard and it's not natural. Or at least we think it's not natural.
I'm glad God didn't create women to give birth the moment they understood they had life growing in their belly.
And that a line prevents me from riding the roller coaster over and over again. I have to wait. At least not at my age. Thirty-eight years equals headache and nausea after two rides in a row.
I'm glad that I can't think a song or a book into existence. That the writing is a process and a birth of its own. And I'm glad that our children take so long to grow. I couldn't bear to give them away to the world as soon as they were born.
There is so much waiting in life.
We wait for everything. I joke with my ever-late husband that I've spent most of my adult life waiting for him to do something: get home, get to the dance recital, finish in the bathroom.
But we are an impatient people. We wait for a living, but we still can't grasp the idea that waiting isn't only a part of life, it is necessary.
What IF we gave birth when we figured out we were pregnant. Nothing would be ready, not our homes or our hearts or our families. And IF we could think a book into existence? We'd be robbed of the joy. There is so.much.learning in the writing. So much valuable learning in the process.
And there is so much learning in the waiting.
We learn patience and long-suffering and tolerance when we wait. We learn forgiveness and self-awareness and we learn how to slow down. When we wait it is one more example that life is a journey to be walked through not a destination to be won.
Waiting makes us mature and age well, I believe.
So next time we are forced to wait, for a child, for an ever-late husband, for a project or a venture to be born into existence, maybe we can rest in the waiting, knowing that it's making us ready for the next thing.
That is the grace in life: that even in the long night before the morning, there is goodness even there.
:angel:
Holy and Altogether Home
Jul 12, 2013 01:00 am | Lori Harris
Bread & Wine Guest Post #3
I wore lipstick and heels and the stones moved under the thin soles of my shoes, my heels digging down into the surface of the ground.
We walked over cobblestone and pebbles and I will forever remember the way those stones felt under my feet...
Holy and altogether home.
The doors opened and we walked in together, the four of us. I sat next to her and my love sat next to him and one candle flickered, its heat warming my face.
The wait staff moved in and out of our space, pouring water and filling glasses and I laughed as the waiter explained the menu to me. He could have spoken broken English to me for hours and I would have never stopped smiling at him. I memorized his face, his hands, the way the light bounced off of his black hair...I memorized the moment.
I smile now as I turn that moment over and over again in my mind.
We devoured tortilla chips and good salsa and I remember watching my other half from across the table and I remember him leaning back in his chair, laughter erupting from his belly. He was wild with life as he hung strands of words in the air like Christmas lights and I remember the warm feeling that fell over me as I watched him come alive.
The hours slipped through our fingers and I felt myself grasping for more.
More time, more food, more closeness around the table.
I leaned in to my edge of the table and with my eyes, I begged her to keep talking, to keep sharing bits of her life. I swallowed every word she spoke. I was needy, starved for friendship and a kind word and she fed me.
Lavishly.
My fingers are simply lost on the keyboard as I sift through the moments around the table. I don't even remember the words she spoke or the way she spoke them, but I remember her and the way she shimmered in the candle light.
She looked like Jesus.
The wait staff cleared our table and I bought time by way of Mexican coffee.
Flaming Mexican Coffee.
I remember the heat of the flame, the way the waiter threw cinnamon onto the rim of the mug, each throw catching fire in the flame like sparklers on New Year's. I remember us laughing out loud, the fire dancing in our eyes, the whipped cream floating on top of the coffee.
We sipped the dessert through straws and I imagined heaven being like this, all sparkly and creamy and sweet to the taste.
Filling to the body, satisfying to the soul, and...
Home.
By Lori Harris, And This is Grace
:angel:
Summertime Stories: (in) Classics
Jul 13, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
Summer is a great time for catching up and taking a breather and sipping lemonade on the porch with the neighbors or the kids or your husband or all of the above. So today, as you begin your weekend, kick back and enjoy a few (in)courage summertime classics about living our summers to the full, making memories and telling our stories, and remembering The Best Story of All.
——————–
The Word has done it. The Word holds up a mirror and the Word peels back the mask and the words are who we are. We weep out of recognition. This story is us. This is the read that is deeply revelational. We see us. When we pick up Scripture, we do not read, a verb; we become, a realization.
The Best Read This Summer — Guaranteed by Ann Voskamp
The summer snapshots are endless. The memories shape us, for better or worse. The stories are told and re-told — if not in words, then in our choices, our insecurites, our loves and our aversions. It's why I sometimes still hesitate when I put on flip-flops, why Dolly Parton sounds like home, why it feels extravagant to drink Coke from a can.
Learning to Tell Your Summertime Stories by Emily Freeman
I write it out to remember the smell of the driveway and the drive, the morning air with hornets buzzing behind the dew berry bushes. We all have to stop once in a while to gather up these good summer days, no matter how sometimes our hearts can ache. Look around. We are blessed here, even just with this breath.
A Deep Summer Breath by Amber Haines
I know I've said it, but I'll say it again—if Susanna Wesley, 17th century mother of 19 kids, managed to find some rest, we 21st century gals can, too. The story goes that when she'd pull her apron over her head, the kids knew to be quiet. She was getting some alone time to pray. We can, too.
Summer Breaks: Not Just for Kids by Tsh Oxenreider
The list doesn't have to be long but it should be slightly different than what you normally do, a bit uncomfortable even. Let us come into this brilliant summer with others on our mind and with hearts open to give and to love.
Summer Bucket Lists Aren't Just for Kids by Sarah Markley
Too often, as adults, we are so caught up in the "big" stuff that we miss out on the simple joys. At least I know I do. Today, go jump in a pool. Laugh until your belly hurts. Take time to revel in the simple.
Don't Miss the Simple Joys by Jessica Turner
Instead of focusing on what we "can't do," let's focus on what we CAN do! Let yourself and your family find delight in small pleasures that ARE accessible to you this summer. Make a list of little things that could bring beauty and happiness to your summer. Experience as many of them as you possibly can!
Six Tips to Enjoy A Beautiful Summer {at Home} by Melissa Michaels
——————–
For more seasonal posts, check out the sweet "Seasonal" tab on the front page of our pretty new (in)courage site, as well as in the sidebar of the blog!
What memories are you making and stories are you telling this summer?
:angel:
When You Feel Like Running Away
Jul 16, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver
Sometimes a difficult day comes out of nowhere, surprising you with its frustrations and challenges. Sometimes, though, it's just the last day in a line of difficult days, days that have worn you down with their bumps in the road and unexpected troubles.
Today was one of those days.
I woke up to a house in chaos, which was no shocker given that I'd gone to bed in a house of chaos. As the calendar flipped to the warmest months of the year, my second trimester and the two weeks when both my babysitter and parents went on vacation (leaving me to work from home with a five-year-old who demanded to know, every few minutes, "Are you done yet? Can we play now?"), we embarked on the desperate frenzy of house repairs necessary to get our house listed before month's end.
It wasn't the brightest move, I'll give you that. But at the time (and, really, even today) it seemed necessary and unavoidable. It was also the recipe for the perfect storm.
After days of decluttering and dealing with a handyman who didn't show up, a mortgage banker who didn't give straight answers and a husband whose work schedule prevented him from Fixing All the Things When I Want, I was done. D-O-N-E, done! I wasn't sleeping well, my blood pressure was rising, and the tears were close to the surface pretty much all the time.
So when Sunday included a Tantrum of Screaming Proportions from my five-year-old (WHILE WE WERE AT CHURCH, thankyouverymuch), more cleaning and scrubbing that my poor arms were used to, and a kitchen with half of the new flooring but none of the baseboard and an unplugged stove, I couldn't handle it.
As I trudged down my hallway after putting my [remorseful and once-again sweet] kiddo to bed, headed toward the computer to finish the work I'd avoided all weekend, I slammed my bare toes into some piece of something metal that had been unplugged from somewhere.
And I just lost it.
I stood in the hallway, sobbing like a baby and thought, "That's it! I'm running away from home. I can't be here anymore. I. Just. Can't."
Of course, it was nearly bedtime by then, and the logical, grown-up thing to do was to simply go to sleep. After all, things would look brighter in the morning, right? At least my appliances would be back in their rightful spots and I could go about re-cleaning the kitchen that had been spotless before the tools and the man entered the picture. Right?
But . . . things weren't really brighter this morning.
I woke up to semi-urgent emails from work and stumbled directly to the computer to problem solve. As I typed and thought, my kiddo – after approximately one minute of being content to snuggle next to me and watch her favorite cartoons – was repeating, in quick succession, "Mommy, what's for breakfast? Will you get me breakfast? Can we eat breakfast now?"
Oh good, a chance to go into the kitchen.
The flooring was finished, but the baseboard wasn't. The refrigerator and stove were still standing firm in the dining room. And the dining room table was hiding under a layer of cleaning supplies and McDonald's cups and various fixing-the-house litter.
Super excited to see her babysitter again (Hallelujah! That 13-year-old angel is back from vacation!), my kiddo still pitched a fit over the outfit THAT WE PICKED OUT TOGETHER. The one I bought and washed and folded and NOW I'M YELLING AGAIN! Losing my temper after she lost hers only made us both cry, and then I barely had time for a shower. And my contacts wouldn't stick to my eyeballs.
And, oh look, the salon down the street from the babysitter is having a pedicure sale, which is perfect because my toes have been neglected way too long BUT I DON'T HAVE THE TIME OR MONEY FOR THAT THIS WEEK.
As I climbed back into my car after big hugs and gritted teeth (and a promise to return that afternoon), I thought to myself, "I cannot go back to that house."
Sure, I knew it would be quiet. But it would still be in chaos. And I simply couldn't face it. Not yet. Not today.
So this morning, at the hour between breakfast (which I'd already eaten) and lunch (which I skipped in favor of a nap), I pulled into the diner near my house, walked in and ordered a stack of pancakes.
I sat there, eating alone and reading my Bible on my phone, waiting for peace or inspiration or perhaps a reminder that God was in control. Instead, I found an Old Testament God-will-smite-you kind of story with vague application to my life – and ended up with syrup on my glasses and my phone.
Oh, how I wish I had a clever way to wrap up this story, friends. If only I'd gotten some sort of sign on my way home from my table-for-one brunch or had some epiphany while scrolling through Scripture on my phone. Maybe it will all click next week. Or next month. Maybe.
But for now, I just want to tell you that I understand. Some days are too hard, and you need to run away. Not forever, but for just a little while.
It's okay. Go ahead. Hide in your bathroom or buy an ice cream cone on the way home. Make time for the pedicure, or ask a friend to watch the kids while you walk aimlessly around Target for an hour. Stop at the diner and order pancakes – and don't share your bacon.
When you want to run away from home, you're not alone. You're not alone in the wanting, and you're not alone in the running.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
~ Deuteronomy 31:6
Have you ever wanted to [temporarily] run away from home? What did you do?
:angel:
Faith Beyond A Check-List
Jul 15, 2013 08:10 pm | Angela Logan
I think I would have made a great Pharisee. You see, I love rules. They provide a check-list of sorts to measure my life against, to prove that I am a "good Christian." Read the Bible every day: Check. Go to church every week: Check. Don't get drunk, don't swear, don't steal: Check. Give a tithe of your first fruits: Check...usually. Love your neighbor as yourself: Che... Wait a minute, where did that one come from?
As kids, we needed rules to help us know the difference between right and wrong, as well as to keep us safe. Rules were good. Even as adults, having a few rules is a good thing. But if our entire pursuit of God becomes a long list of dos and don'ts, shoulds and should-nots, then we have distorted the Gospel. In fact, the closer we draw to God, the farther we should get from legalism. Grace becomes the new "law" of our hearts, and it manifests itself as love for God and His people.
The last section of Hebrews 5 addresses a group of people who have not been pursuing spiritual maturity. They have remained babies of the faith and have stopped trying to understand anything beyond the basics of the Gospel. The writer of the book (likely Paul) urges them in chapter six to step it up and start pursuing maturity. One sign of that maturity is loving God by loving and serving other believers. Hebrews 6:11 reads, "Our great desire is that you will keep on loving others as long as life lasts, in order to make certain that what you hope for will come true."
I am pretty good at digging in and searching out some deep truths of God's Word. In fact, sometimes I get so wrapped up in these "deeper" things that I have to remind myself to go back and look just at Jesus. But when I read in Hebrews 6 that maturity shows up in how we love each other...well, then I have a little trouble. Because, like I said, I like rules and I like people who play by the rules. So much that I forget that my Christian brothers and sisters are real people: imperfect, struggling with sin just the way I am.
Hebrews 6:11 says that I need to focus on loving others as long as I live in order to make certain that what I hope for (salvation) will come true. This would be easy to use to distort the Gospel of Grace, taking the burden of salvation on ourselves, but that's not what the author is getting at here. Instead, he is saying that our love for people will be an indication of what's going on in our hearts. Galatians 5:22 says that when the Holy Spirit is guiding your life, He will produce in you fruit – evidence – of His presence. Love is part of that fruit. Thus, a life abundant in love for others is evidence of a life governed by the Holy Spirit, Who is God's guarantee of our inheritance of eternal life (Ephesians 1:14), and a life governed by the Holy Spirit is one that is constantly striving for deeper spiritual maturity. And so it makes a full circle.
I will probably always be a person who likes rules. But I am learning to live my life by only two: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength;" and "Love your neighbor as yourself." And in this, I pray I begin to look less like a Pharisee and more like my Savior.
By Angela Clark Logan, My Heart Ministry
:angel: :angel:
4 Tips for Vacationing With Your Family
Jul 18, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
When I was growing up, we didn't take vacations. I think we went camping once and we took day trips to Brown County. (And yes, it was just as exciting as the Hecks made it look in The Middle – you've gotta love Indiana entertainment.)
Taking legit vacations started when I got married.
We go to the beach every summer and stay for free at my husband's family condo.
We recently went to the mountains and stayed in a tent.
We even went to Disney World once.
But I'm not the most organized person when it comes to packing or planning. So if you want to read vacation tips on traveling long distances with littles, go ahead and read this post by Tsh because she is the expert. Or if you are a single girl, come back here tomorrow and Annie will share some tips on vacationing with your friends.
I'm not so great at offering details on how to pack or where to stay or how to keep your kids happy in the car. But I have spent a fair amount of time considering the things of the deeper life. And I have traveled enough with my family to know that the soul doesn't take time off just because it's time for a family vacation.
Here are four tips to prepare your soul for some unending time of fun, chaos, memories, and rest.
1. Leave your mindless obsessions at home.
No matter where you go, the list-making, future-looking whir will follow you. You can sit outside a bakery on a street in Paris and be miserable for all the noise in your head. You can watch the calm ocean waters and the deep blue sky as they mock you with all their peace and quiet. You can breathe in the deep mountain air right along with your worries.
It isn't the place that brings peace. You have to bring peace with you.
And that means leaving your mindless obsessions – the insecurity over that project you're working on, the fear about the outcome of the inspection, the awkward conversation you had with the dog-sitter on your way out the door – these you have to leave at home and are only as big as we make them.
Vacation isn't just to vacate a place, but to rest from the whirring in your head, the running list and the constant looking to the future.
You have to fight for slow, and sometimes the fight looks like sitting on the rug with a deck of Go Fish cards.
2. Choose a breath prayer before you go.
If you're traveling with your kids, especially if they are very small and need you to be constantly engaged, the chances of you having any time alone to pray on vacation are slim to none. Babies still have to be fed in the middle of the night no matter if the ocean is right outside the window.
For me, having a prayer that fits the rhythm of my breathing is a life-line during stressful times, vacations included.
Brennan Manning's prayer was Abba, I belong to you. The seven syllables fit perfectly with the natural rhythm of breath. Mine is a bit longer, taken from a prayer by Ted Loder, Lord Jesus, Gather me now to be with you.
I don't have to stop, close the door, or even leave the chaos to pray these words. But they give me something to ground me, words to wrap my soul around.
Ruth Haley Barton says this about the breath prayer in her book, Sacred Rhythms:
"The breath prayer . . . does not come primarily from the mind, which is where most of our words come from; the breath prayer arises from the depths of our desire and need. It is powerful because it is an expression of our heart's deepest yearning coupled with the name for God that is most meaningful and intimate for us at this time."
Take a little time before you leave town and discover your own breath prayer for this particular season of your life.
3. Get at least one photo with the whole family in it (including you).
Can't afford to travel with your own personal photographer? Don't want your kids to look back at your photo albums years from now and wonder why Daddy was the only parent who loved them because Mommy never went on vacation with them – clearly because you weren't in any of the photos?
This one is a little more practical, but for me it's important. Photos help me to see, to remember, and to tell the story of the times my family has had together over the years.
Find reflective surfaces – mirrors, windows, the glass at the top of the lighthouse – and take a family picture with you in it. I try to do this every place we visit.
4. Pack a light heart.
I'm terrible at this. I tend to predict gloomy futures at the first sign of trouble - She's throwing up? In the back seat? Right now?! - And I immediately predict our entire vacation will be spent sharing germs and puking on the beach.
But my gloomy predictions rarely (if ever) come true, at least not to the extent I fear they will.
Take the moments handed to you, each one as they come. Let the sun highlight your hair. Let the minutes pass as you sit and watch them play. Stand with your feet in the grass and your face to the wind, close your eyes and breathe in deep.
You have this one moment in this place with them. Resist the urge to rush into the future to tackle problems that haven't happened yet.
Do you have any tips for vacationing with your family?
:angel: :angel:
Dandelion Os {And When You Can't Find The Words}
Jul 18, 2013 01:10 am | Ruth Povey
He fell asleep midway through blowing seeds from a dandelion clock. Twenty-months-old and strapped into his pushchair, his lips were fluff-covered and forming an O. I stopped mid-walk to adjust his seat, to lie him down and tuck him in cozy. Careful, I eased the dandelion stalk from his mischievous hand.
You wouldn't know that an hour earlier, I'd lost him in our huge church building. Clearing away after toddler group, I'd glanced up frequently between throwing toys into boxes – then suddenly he was gone. I'd scanned the room, as my slightly-nervous walk became a crazy-lady run and I'd blurted out 'blue and yellow checked shirt' at everyone and anyone.
I ran down corridors and up stairs – did I mention the building is huge? – and checked cupboards and even braved the men's toilets but nothing. Fearing the very worst and forgetting how to breathe, I scoured the car park and all I could pray was please. All I could think was how scared he would be and he'd been so clingy that morning and was he crying his baby heart out?
But they'd found him – the other mothers, who would never stop looking when a small boy was missing – so I was falling apart in the car park and he was being retrieved from behind a tech desk. The boy who spends every waking moment trying to get close to laptops and wires had found himself in his element.
The same boy who scribbled black biro on my white leather sofa before eight in the morning and the same boy asleep mid-dandelion O in the afternoon.
Sometimes we can't find the words to pray and we're so desperate, so frantic, that elaborate prayers and words just fail us. All I'd had was please and even if I'd not had that, my spirit would have cried out and doesn't Jesus hear and feel that? Doesn't he know how we're crumbling and tell it to the Father?
If you don't have the words and all you can form is a dandelion O, it's okay. It's okay that you don't even know what to pray for and all you know is who you're crying out to. Jesus intercedes and He's calling out on your behalf. You're frantic, but He's already working on it and you haven't even asked, but He's heard.
And He knows just what to make of your dandelion Os.
By Ruth Povey – {learning one day at a time}
:angel: :angel:
Vacation Tips for the Single Ladies
Jul 19, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
In May, seven girlfriends and I caught a cheap flight to the beach for a three day mini-vacation.
Let me explain the science of why we fly versus drive, so as for you to not just consider us spoiled brats. Nashville to 30A, the panhandle strip of Florida where we like to go, is about a seven hour drive directly south (which we have done, multiple times). With seven girls total, and all our junk, that would have been two cars worth of gas driving seven hours. So we leave Nashville at 8am, we're there by 4pm.
The flight? Leaves Nashville at 8am and lands at 9:15am.
So for close to the same cost, you are at the beach by 10am.... instead of the driving option which, at 10am, has you passing through Huntsville, AL, home of Space Camp and astronaut ice cream, but no ocean view.
You get it. We flew.
We are all single career women in our late 20s/early 30s and while we have a lot of fun in our Nashville lives, we also are busy and stressed and hard working.
We needed a break. To read. To nap. To tan. To bike. To just be.
For single gals, it can be hard to prioritize vacation in your budget or calendar. Sure, your job may give you days off, but you want to visit family or reorganize your house or stay in town because none of your friends may have the same vacation days and vacationing alone isn't necessarily the most fun. (Though I'm sure it can be a good time, I'm 100% extravert, so being alone is rarely the choice I make.)
But since Valentine's Day, since this same crew of girls cooked a delicious dinner together, we'd been planning to celebrate Lyndsay's 30th birthday at the beach.
And we had the absolute best time.
. . . . .
I learned a lot about what makes for a successful vacay with the gals on that weekend and so I thought I'd share those thoughts with you:
This is not a go-big-or-stay-home situation. If you want to keep your budget tight, hop on VRBO.com and find some cute place to stay in a nearby town or even in your own town!
Plan way in advance. If your friend group is anything like mine, we get full calendars quickly. So by putting a May vacay on the calendar in February, it was blocked off early and nobody double-booked or had to back out.
Serve each other. One of the sweetest parts of our trip was that everybody chipped in to help clean and cook and drive and etc. It certainly made for low stress and high appreciation of our friend group.
Don't pressure. Everyone does not have to snorkel and don't judge a gal if she naps every day. Unless y'all are doing a vacation bus tour across Italy (I'm jealous), then everyone should be allowed, at some degree, to move at their own pace.
Prepare your budget. You know who you don't want to be? The girl who stays home from dinner because you don't want to spend that kind of money. Your group needs to discuss ahead of time what kind of budget you plan to spend and you need to set aside that moola.
Unplug. Don't live your vacation on instagram or Facebook. Live it over hot chocolate around a bonfire or on a pack of bicycles or eating ice cream by the pool. LIVE it. Be present for your friends.
. . . . .
Don't let being single hold you back from vacation. Make some calls and some reservations and some plans and get outta town this summer!
What other tips do you have for vacationing as a single gal?
By the way, Emily Freeman shared her vacation tips for families yesterday. Check it out!
by Annie Downs
:angel: :angel:
In which our recipes carry our stories – and the scent of garlic
Jul 19, 2013 01:00 am | Sarah Bessey
Bread & Wine Guest Post #4
I didn't cook a lot as a teenager. It wasn't for lack of trying on my mother's part. I simply wasn't that interested in cooking (however, my interests did include: writing bad poetry, reading classic literature, eating sour candy, listening to 90s hip hop, and making out with boys). When I moved away from home at eighteen, I subsisted on the university cafeteria's vast cereal bar and whatever could be heated up in my hot pot. After three years of macaroni, ramen noodles and canned soup, like most students, I was nearly pickled with salt.
My then-fiancé/now-husband graduated when we were 21 and moved into an apartment with one of his best friends. So we cooked almost every night, playing house and feeling quite sophisticated and grown-up.
However, we quickly discovered everything we cooked was unbelievably garlicky. We finished our spaghetti and our mouths would be burning. After an attempt at my mother's Caesar salad, I could smell garlic coming from my pores. Our breath stank so badly, it was the best deterrent for hanky-panky that any abstinence-only educator could have dreamed up. We could NOT figure out what the problem was. We were following the recipes exactly!
One day, after weeks – literally weeks - of the Great Garlic Stink of Y2K, we happened to catch a a cooking show on television. Before our dumbfounded eyes, the chef picked up a clove of garlic (or what we thought was a clove....can you see where this is going?) and peeled off two or three of the little buds on it.
THAT is a clove?
We thought a clove of garlic was, you know, the WHOLE BULB of garlic.
So if a recipe called for four bulbs of garlic, we were putting in four entire cloves of garlic.
Think about that for a moment.
On the bright side, we were incredibly healthy for a few weeks there.
Nearly fourteen years later, we can't use make Caesar salad without a smirk and a reminder to "only use a clove now, not the whole bulb."
That's the fun of cooking over the years, perhaps: the family stories for each recipe. We figure out which recipes we love, which ones aren't fun to make, which ones were a disaster from start to finish. As the years pass, we know which recipes make for good leftovers, which ones the tinies will actually eat, which ones work for quick family meals on a weeknight.
As we grow into our communities, we swap our recipes and the stories that accompany them.
My own recipe box is filled with scribbled cards from my grandmothers and aunties, my mother and my mother-in-law, my friends and my neighbours. I think that's part of why I loved Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist. She honoured the stories of our everyday meals – the community where they were born, the family where they showed up on week night tables, the times when the food nourished and satisfied, and invites us to remember our own stories.
I have a tiny wooden box filled with recipes, yes, but it's also a tiny box of my stories and traditions, our family's gatherings and laughter, our disasters and victories, our sorrows and our ministry to each other. When I cook, I'm part of a lineage of good work and good memory. The recipes in my little box become more dear with each preparation. Part of how we love each other in a family is by gathering around the table and storytelling through our shared laughter and tears, disasters and victories about the food on our table. At the top of that list in our house: there is, in fact, a difference between a clove of garlic and a bulb of garlic.
Your turn: Tell us about a cooking disaster (because misery {in the kitchen} loves company!).
By Sarah Bessey
And today's Second Helping!
Feasts and Fasting
I've gone to bed every night with my Bread and Wine Audio Book reading itself to me over my iPhone.
So the words about community and life, the glorious relationship between breaking bread and pouring wine and thanksgiving have been my lullaby each night. I drift on my pillow, head sunk deep and restless to this notion of tasting life and the constant battle I have with food as idol and enemy.
And I think I want to make time in my life for setting the table. For making a place and carving out space to invite people in, but then do I really? Because I feel I am at capacity now.
And sometimes I think my tastebuds have failed me. That in the midst of the everyday I have failed to savor. That the rush and appetites of my life have more to do with frantic filling than with letting the aroma of the good things settle on my tongue and linger. That even my relationships skim at the surface of things as the opposition of the urgent makes me rush past blurred faces.
I bulge at the seams of this overstuffed pace. The frantic tyranny of what must be done. I have never found balance. I live a lopsided existence tilting full scale into whatever I'm passionate about at the moment. And maybe that's okay. Maybe balance in some sense is a myth. Maybe multitasking is nothing more than spreading thin what could be plumbed deeper if only given more time to accomplish it.
I think of slowing and savoring. I think of the parking lots with fast food bags and binges and shame in the greasy fingered stains on my soul, empty containers of ice cream dripping down the sides onto my night table and the ache that never fills. I think of secrecy and shame every time I think of the glorious pleasure of food.
Because you see, I am a fat girl.
* * * * * *
Oh, friends–you simply must continue reading Feasts and Fasting
by Alia Joy over at her site Narrow Paths to Higher Places.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Jul 21, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
Photo by Dawn Huczek
I thank my God every time I remember you.
In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy
because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now,
being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you
will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.
It is right for me to feel this way about all of you,
since I have you in my heart
and, whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel,
all of you share in God's grace with me.
God can testify how I long for all of you
with the affection of Christ Jesus.
And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more
in knowledge and depth of insight,
so that you may be able to discern what is best
and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ,
filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes
through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.
Philippians 1:3-11
:angel:
Slow To Anger: Is It Really Possible?
Arianne Segerman
As the summer burns on, I notice my patience is burning too, but burning into non-existence. I find each day more and more difficult to build up patience and wait for my children to find their way. Whether it be their way to obeying the rules, their way to having good attitudes or even their way to being grateful people. This time of year feels like forever.
But there's something that God has been showing me lately that is actually working against this patience shortage. And that is: instead of telling my kids to chill out I tell myself to chill out.
I've noticed more and more that when I stay in a good place (abiding in Christ is my "good place"), I feel peaceful as a mother too. I feel chill. And I don't get as frustrated with the kids being kids (how dare they!). I still see areas where I can direct, for sure. But my own emotions don't have to get all caught up in it.
One of the biggest things that has changed is when I chill FIRST, my children often follow that lead even without realizing it. It's like the whole frenetic energy ball in the room gets the power cord pulled out of it. Everything powers down for a minute. Their individual craziness, even if it doesn't simmer down, doesn't affect me the same way.
It's pretty amazing what kind of power simply telling myself to chill out has had on us. And I didn't even realize I needed to chill out!
My kids start bickering; I chill out first. They don't like the chores I gave them? I chill out first. They don't listen? I definitely chill out first.
I still do all my same parenting, I just precede it with this big 'ol gut check first; and it's like everything settles into place before I get (and instead of me getting) wildly impatient and frustrated.
What was that about being slow to anger...? Oh yeah. {wink}
So tell me, how do those of you who have school-aged kids get through these last few weeks of summer? Our school is starting up in just two weeks!
I'd love to hear your ideas and tips for moms needing that second wind right about now!
:angel:
A Prayer for All the World's Sons {In Honor of the #RoyalBaby}
Jul 23, 2013 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp
Lord, let there still be a few good men.
Sure, in the end, there's a small chance we'd like no rings through nostrils or studs through tongues or ivory plugs through earlobes, but the only mattering part is that he's pierced by Your love, marked by grace, run through with mercy and one untiring sense of humor. A world tilted as wild as this one needs a little bit more of that.
May he always know True North.
And the way to the laundry basket and the stove and wide open big sky.
Please, Lord, please — only a minimal number of broken bones and emergency rooms?
But always a heart bit tender and broken so Your love and light can leak out. May the good lines in the books and the movies always make him liquid a bit, the way poetry can water the hard and forgotten places.
When there are guys trying to score, may he remember that real men win by going last and putting others first.
May he be one of the real men who are dead to all ladders, who always go lower, to the least and the lonely and the lost. Everyday.
May he love babies toes and old ladies and loud laughing and unlikely underdogs and Jesus.
Make him one of the Real Men braving the Truth — Because if Christ is The Truth — then where there is Truth, there is Christ, and why ever be afraid of the Truth?
Make him one of those Real Men who knows how to simply say sorry, how to serve without applause, and how to give grace — because Grace isn't some soft, ethereal notion. Grace is a verb, it's a noun, it's a thing, it's concrete, it's like air. Just try living without it.
Make him one of the Real Men fighting injustice — because he knows the peace of Christ.
Make him one of the Real Men taking peer pressure – because it only makes him stronger in Christ.
Make him one of the Real Man taking responsibility for his body. Responsible men — are response-able. Make this his job. A woman has her's. Have him focus on his. Real Men don't focus responsibility on the women staying "pure" because none of us are pure but focus on the men not pressuring — because no one tries to crush a diamond.
Let Christ captivate him and not the glossy magazine covers of the Walmart checkout. Because Real Men don't objectify alluring women. Real Men edify all women.
Make him one of the few men saturated by the Book, who doesn't care whether that's cool or not, because the absolute bottom line is: Unless a man looks to Jesus, a man doesn't know how to treat a woman.
May he never stop looking to Jesus.
May he feel what he feels, may he wear his heart be on his sleeve, may his life plant a million seeds of happiness before he's planted.
And may his face always be willing to face the wind, may his knees always be willing to bend, and may every one of his steep inclines, incline him more toward You.
This world needs to more than a few good men to tilt and lean a lot more wildly like that.
In the name of the Son who will never leave our sons...
Amen.
Q4U: What's your prayer for this world's boys?
One prayer for the new boy of Prince Will and Princess Kate?
Tell us about life with boys and its blessings and challenges?
(Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)
Written for you with love, by Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience ....
:angel:
Waste of Time
Jul 24, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Photo by Artiom Gorgan
It was our second playdate.
Technically, it was my four-year-old son CJ's playdate. I was there visiting with the mom at the breakfast table, sipping water. She was asking how my book writing's going. I tell her it's not easy, not like handing in homework. Not even like writing at work either.
"It's hard to write on a blank page," I confess. "There's so many ways of telling a story. How do I know which way is right?"
"It's like being an artist," my friend adds.
"How about you?" I ask. "What do you like to do that's artistic? Do you like to write?"
"I like to write," she pauses. "But, if I ever had the time — which I don't — I'd want to paint."
My friend doesn't know I've been on an anxiety-ridden journey to uncover the shadow artist in me. I'm suspicious now there is one in her.
"Oh, you like to paint," I echo. "What do you like to paint? Can I see?"
She tells me she used to paint in college. But, she hasn't painted since. Really? ...Not even once? I prod. It turns out she did. When she returned from her honeymoon years ago, she painted a beach and sky. Can I see it. I smiled. Please?
She leads me into her bedroom. And it's beautiful. A canvas of brushstrokes of color. A memory.
My friend tells me she loves how it feels when she paints. But, then she sighs. Life's so busy, keeping up with everyone's schedules.
"Do you ever feel selfish — like it'd be a waste of time if you painted?" I ask. "I do. That's how I feel about writing."
My friend said what do you mean? So, I told her about the spelling bee.
Not So Shiny
I was in second grade. I didn't even know what a spelling bee was, until I stood at the district level spell-offs one evening. I don't remember much, but I ended up being one of the last two girls left standing. I was so excited, because we had been told the top three contestants would get a trophy. And I would at least be number two.
I'm gonna get a trophy!
But, then I got really nervous. Because it dawned on me.
I. could. be. the. champion.
I could actually win this thing.
The moderator took time out to ask everyone to clap for us, explained the rules once again, and reminded the audience to please be quiet. I looked over at the spectacled girl standing next to me from Cumberland Elementary. She had won the year before. She sure looked smart. Only one of us would advance to the next level. Could it be me?
As the moderator announced my next word, I thought I had it in the bag.
"Lunch. L-U-C-H. Lunch."
I'm sorry. That is incorrect.
I knew how to spell lunch. I don't know, for the life of me, how I left out the n. But, I did. The whole room sighed with a unanimous, "Ohh..." I felt the panic and looked over at my mom. She shook her head in disappointment.
Afterward, I walked over to tell her I still won a trophy. But she said, "I'm not surprised you didn't win. The other girl was much more confident. She looked like the winner."
At the awards ceremony, I stepped up on stage to claim my second place trophy. But, it didn't seem that shiny anymore. In the car ride back, my mom sighed, "What a waste of time."
I never did win another spelling bee after that year. It wasn't the last time she'd tell me something about me would be a waste of time.
Wasting Time
After I finished telling my mommy friend my story, I told her that is what I have to fight every time I try to make time for me. I have to fight against voices that tell me I'm wasting my time, especially mine.
It doesn't just happen when I write. Whenever I want to do something purely for enjoyment, with no other added "value" or "purpose," I think it's a waste of time. I think of a gazillion more "important" things I should do. I tell my friend maybe her experience wasn't exactly like mine. But, I asked her –
What was life growing up for you as a little girl?
Were you encouraged to explore and enjoy doing what you liked? Or was there a focus on getting things done, not wasting time?
I wasn't planning to stay long that day for my son's playdate. But, it turned out to be a special summer afternoon, listening to the heart of a new friend and her stories.
"Maybe we can drive out to the museum in the city one morning, when the kids go back to school?" She offered with a smile.
"Yeah. Maybe," I smiled back.
I told her hopefully, I'll finish my book by then.
What is Better
It's very easy to be distracted by what appears to be more important.
Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made when she opened her home to Jesus.
She came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me
to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things,
but only one thing is necessary.
Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
Luke 10:40-42
What's harder is taking the faith to spend time with Jesus, by doing something we enjoy. It may not look or feel right, just like it may not have seemed right for Mary to sit, while so much needed to be done around her.
When God gave instructions to build the tabernacle where He would dwell, He gave people the gift of artistic design "in all kinds of crafts" — "to engage in all kinds of craftsmanship" to adorn, decorate and make everything. (Ex.31:11)
Now that Jesus is here, you and I have become the tabernacle where God dwells.
We are the living temples, where Jesus lives. (2 Cor.6:16)
Each of us is created with beauty in mind, to reflect God's artistic imprint.
There is no sunset, flower or rainbow that does not reflect the time God spent making it come alive with color and feeling.
You and I are no less.
"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,
what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?
...You crowned him with glory and honor."
Psalm 8:3-6
~~~~~
How may God be inviting you to enjoy something that feeds your soul, that may feel like a waste of time?
What was life growing up for you as a little girl — were you encouraged to explore and enjoy?
Pull up a chair. Click to comment. Share your voice and let's enjoy a summer breeze together.
~~~~~
If you're on the journey of faith to walk out into the world, I'd love your company. Join me on my blog as we journey in community together. Let's keep speaking words of encouragement and friendship with each other in our faith stories — as it's being made and lived. As is.
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel:
Delivering a Miracle
Jul 26, 2013 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
I watch her eyelashes grow. I stare at her pink pouty lips. I caress her dark baby hair as she feeds.
Amazed by grace. Overwhelmed by His love for me. My arms now full of answered prayers.
My daughter is here and I have learned God not only listens but answers us as we boldly approach His throne.
She smiles and my heart melts.
I can hear the heavenly Hallelujahs. She giggles like she hears them, too.
I've blown out candles on chocolate frosted yellow cake for seven years, praying (trying to be brave and not weep) for the hope of this child . . . for God to fill our home with a family.
I knew this day would come. God gave me faith, encouragement and a clear vision.
But I wish I remembered the first time I saw my daughter.
I had planned and rehearsed how her birth moment would unfold. But you can't ever be prepared for how God answers prayers. Or foresee extra miracles on top of the one you're living.
My pregnancy was an easy one. I was truly thankful for only a few weeks of nausea and energy soon after. I won't go into details of how much weight I gained. {Lets just say, I'm glad I'm tall to carry more than double expected.}
I was almost two weeks overdue. I went into labor on Mother's Day. God-ronic.
Strong contractions ensued. I was in active labor for 17 hours with very little progress to show for it. I had planned on a natural birth at the hospital, but was open to God's leading.
Sometimes the miracle that you've prayed for is harder and sweeter than you could imagine. Unexpected yet still good – like rock candy.
Not dilating more than 4cm, the doctor broke my water. Nothing. No more progress. The monitors showed our daughter was under stress. We finally agreed to a c-section and the medical team started to prep me for the operating room.
My husband left to get scrubbed in to join me in surgery. The next few moments are sort of fuzzy. Our daughter's heart rate dropped to 60 and the situation became an emergency. Nurses rushing in, everyone yelling, sounds of Velcro and plastic ripping. "We're going now. Get Dr. Hannah."
I wasn't scared. God gave me a mother's peace. {Another miracle.}
The last I remember was the doctor asking if I could feel three clamps on my stomach. I did. Which meant the epidural hadn't taken. They knocked me out.
As I laid on a hard table, unconscious, trusting, God saved my daughter's life. In 60 seconds she was pulled out of me and into the world. She had a knot in her chord and it wasn't long enough for her to reach the light. This explained why my body wasn't delivering her. But God's purposes prevailed.
Gabrielle Elise Bryant arrived into our lives on Monday, May 13, 2013, at 2:41 pm.
Still heavily medicated, fresh from post-op, my eyes couldn't focus but my heart consumed the moment that I first met my daughter. I was filled with unspeakable joy and intense reliance on the Jesus that entrusted our daughter to us.
Our doctor visited us three times while I was recovering. His eyes were big as he told us it was scary. This coming from a man who has delivered over 4,000 babies. And then he mentioned the next unknown miracle . . . he found a huge cyst on my ovary and endometriosis. He was curious how I was able to get pregnant.
"I know you tried for seven years and she's your miracle. But you don't realize how BIG a miracle she is."
God answered our prayers for a child, for His timing and protection and for Gabrielle's life to bring great glory to Him all of her days . . . starting the day she was born. Without the hardships, the waiting, the gut-wrenching seeking, the glory wouldn't be as bright and seen by so many.
I know Jesus danced and laughed with joy at her heavenly birthday party that day in May. He had been anxiously awaiting her arrival into the earth just as much as we had. Gabrielle was finally here and her life was already glorifying our Lord.
We went home a family. A long-awaited miracle.
Gabrielle was delivered into our arms but we were the ones that were delivered into the arms of Grace.
Now Gabrielle is almost 11 weeks old and a pure delight. We love her dearly and pray daily God will continue to glorify Himself in and through her life. The miracle is alive and well. Thank you, Jesus!
{When a story brings a gasp or tears or laughter from deep places, the world pauses and knows that God is love . . . and Love is alive and well. My unique story, your story, is worth telling because it is His.}
Are you telling others about your miracle? Now is your chance. I'd love to read how God has shown you grace and answered your prayers.
:angel: :angel:
On My Grandmother's Dishes & Becoming What We Behold
Jul 26, 2013 01:00 am | Anna
Guest Post #5
I go through dozens of Grandma's collected pieces of china, each one delicate and fine.
And my mom, she had a story for each one:
"Oh, that was THE candy dish! If I snuck a piece, I had to lift the silver lid just right, so it wouldn't make any noise."
"She set out that nut dish – with this silver spoon – at every circle meeting."
"She put mashed potatoes in that bowl!"
I scour the internet for details on the precious china & glassware, and what I find makes me gasp. Each piece is worth actual dollars! Some pieces are worth several actual dollars! The day I loaded her white Haviland china into the back of the minivan, I drove almost as carefully as the day we brought home our son. As I set each piece in its new home in my cupboards, I pause to really look at them. Light and tiny but very much present atop of plates are lines where knives scraped across them decades ago. 'She actually used these!' I marvel.
And that thought strikes me hard, because I am a saver.
Gardenia perfume I wore on my wedding day? I spritz it only on our anniversary. Beautiful teacup from my wedding shower? I haven't used it since. Crisp white linen napkins, received for our engagement? I only bring them out for Christmas dinner. All these gifts, collecting dust.
And most likely, their giver wouldn't be too happy if they knew their gifts to me were just taking up space.
While some things are more meaningful when held onto, the idea of saving my best things doesn't sit well in my heart. What else do I save? My best listening ear is reserved for only dear friends in crisis. The best of my servant's heart is reserved for those who can somehow serve me back {ugly, but true}. The best of my God-given gifts are reserved to the point where they become buried and I argue when He asks me to use them.
It's as though the things we save will save us.
'Don't hoard treasure down here where it gets eaten by moths and corroded by rust or—worse!—stolen by burglars. Stockpile treasure in heaven, where it's safe from moth and rust and burglars. It's obvious, isn't it? The place where your treasure is, is the place you will most want to be, and end up being.' - Matthew 6:19-21
My friend Sally said this week, 'You become what you behold.' What am I becoming if I am holding back the best of my things and the best of who God made me to be out of fear? It's what Shauna has shared with us throughout Bread & Wine; the opening up of our table has little to do with the actual food. Rather it has everything to do with the spirit in which it's offered, and the acceptance that while the food may be cold and un-edible, the experience may still be warm and sweet.
"It's so easy to think that because you can't do something extraordinary, you can't do anything at all." (p. 209-210) – Shauna Niequist, Bread & Wine
There is deep power in the loving of others, and we are able to both give and receive that when we gather around the table and give our best.
—–
My grandma's dishes are now unpacked in my kitchen cupboards. Over time, I will add to the faint knife scrapes on the plates, so that when my son goes thru them in 60 years, he too will have stories to tell.
by Anna, Girl With Blog
AND TODAY'S SECOND HELPING!
One Plate at a Time
I have not always been a girl's girl. Growing up in a neighborhood of boys, I played hard and long with my brother and his friends; eschewing Barbie and her crew for tall leafy trees to climb; deep cool ravines to run rampant in; and the half-built cinder-block structures near the soccer field in the park that made a great fort.
This trend continued all through school as I made friends with the girls...but kept my best friendships for the guys and their ability to keep things simple and uncomplicated.
Fast-forward 20-something years in my life and I'm all about my women friends. My grown up girlfriends. I'm still a fringe-of-the-party kind of loner, but there are a handful that I hold close to my heart.
I'd seen some of them online before I met them in person – friends of friends who shared a monthly supper club in common – I'd see their likes and comments on mutual friends' Facebook posts; hear about them at church gatherings; come into a conversation where someone told a story about someone else and there was that name again.
And then I met them.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Oh, friends–this is Rebekah's first ever Guest Post and I think she might be the most excited contributor of this study! Please click to continue reading One Plate at a Time at her blog Three Bees in a Blue Bonnet, and be sure to comment so she knows you visited.
:angel: :angel:
A reminder at the end of the week
Jul 27, 2013 01:20 am | Lisa-Jo Baker
For the hard week, the long week, the backed up, broken down week.
He sees you.
For the good week, the full week, the love lived in the floorboards and round the kitchen table and back out again week.
He sees you.
For the smudged eyes and runny mascara week. For the shouted prayers and broken promises week.
He sees you.
For the aching heart, hurts-to-breathe week. For the lonely week. For the lost week.
He sees you.
For the empty tank and forgotten errands. For the dirty dishes and loads of laundry week.
He sees you.
For the wrinkled week, the long week, the rundown week.
He sees you.
For the laughter shouted week, the friends around the exciting news week, the beloved week.
He sees you.
However your week ended. However your week began. You are as beloved today as you were at the start of it.
He sees you, friends. He sees each individual unique week you've lived.
Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. ~Hebrews 13:8
He's got you and this week and the next one.
May you find all your peace and accomplishment in the One who spoke this week into being. Won't you share with us one thing that made this week special?
With much love
Lisa-Jo, community manager for (in)courage
:angel:
How Can We Pray for You?
Jul 28, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
Photo by Martin Pettitt
We are called to pray for one another, lifting up our praises and our concerns to the Father. And this community, the (in)courage family, is incredible and generous with those prayers. Today let's take a few moments to pray for each other. Share a prayer request in the comments, then pray for the person who left the comment before you.
What are you happy about today?
What is troubling you today?
How can we pray for you?
Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray.
Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise.
Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church
to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord.
And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well;
the Lord will raise them up.
If they have sinned, they will be forgiven.
Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other
so that you may be healed.
The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.
James 5:13-16
:angel:
Power Hour
Jul 29, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
Having teenage and college-age children in my house is educational.
One of my intentions as a mother has been to cultivate an atmosphere where my children had the freedom to tell me anything...everything if they were only willing. I realize the latter is a lofty goal and not likely to be the case, but everything isn't really the hope, anyway; anything is.
Practiced advice handed down to me from a mom just a few years my senior formulated my "tell anything" philosophy when my children were still in grade school: "Don't react when your children tell you something shocking."
Martha's counsel has proven easier said than done at times, but I've never forgotten it. For years I've tried to listen with open ears and an inexpressive but engaged face, to invite the stories I wanted to hear, the stories they're desperate to tell. The freedom to share helped them process Hard Things and figure out how to respond without fear.
Sex, drugs, alcohol, cutting, food disorders, pregnancy–even when it's among the Youth Group set. Especially when it's among the Youth Group set. No reaction.
I've learned children are most inclined to share when they feel neither judgment or condemnation, whether its directed at them or their friends. They're less likely to tell you anything if every conversation invites you to step on a soap box or lecture about virtue or question another's salvation. Quoting Bible verses will keep them from telling you the next time, too.
The moments are sacred when a child allows you to enter their world.
It is in everyone's interest for you to remember you have two ears and one mouth and you should use them in that proportion. Listen twice as much as you speak. At least.
* * * * *
With all this in mind, the stage had long been set when my college-aged daughter asked me if I knew what a Power Hour was. It was clear she wasn't talking about anything remotely related to Robert Schuller's Crystal Cathedral, the first thing that came to my mind.
She explained, "It's when you drink as much as you can in an hour and then hook up with someone."
Blink blink.
(No reaction, Robin...no reaction....)
It's important to add here I wasn't worried about this as it relates to my daughter; she's one of those rare creatures who has made a lifetime of choices setting her squarely in the path of Purity, not for purity's sake or to please her parents, but because she's convinced this is what God desires.
In that instant, though, my heart ached for the countless teens and 20-somethings who make that choice every day. Drink as much as you can in an hour and give yourself away. Some mother's son...some mother's daughter.
She wasn't telling me because she knew anyone who takes part in a power hour; she wanted to tell me about her friends' redemption of the Power Hour: how a few young people in her sphere are reclaiming that phrase for good, who have re-imagined it in a way that drips of the Gospel. Good news.
What is their version?
A group of friends set aside one hour to pour words of encouragement into one another–kindness, attentiveness...life...love. The essence of 1 Thessalonians 5:11:
"Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing." (ESV)
Interestingly, they begin with physical attributes; not general "you look pretty today" but features and mannerisms and the things that distinguish who we are. The things we do we don't even realize we do or maybe the things we don't like about ourselves...or even the good things no one has ever named (but you're dying to hear).
From there they move on to character; affirming the good things they've observed in one another, calling out strengths and talents and giftings they've witnessed, likely when no one knew they were looking. How they treat people, work ethic, how they spend their time, how they're maturing in the faith.
For a solid hour, those present take turns building one another up. Encouraging, positive, life-sustaining words. They dwell on what is:
true
honorable
just
pure
lovely
commendable
excellent
worthy of praise
the embodiment of Philippians 4:8 (ESV).
Rather than drink for an hour and rob another (and self!) of purity, dignity and respect, they pour into each other for an hour and offer grace, affirmation and beauty.
The world is full of negative messages that can seed insecurity and doubt. Couple that with how cruel and thoughtless we can be to one another at times. (And this isn't limited to teens and 20-somethings!) To counter that, what if you planned a Power Hour of your own? What if you set aside an hour on a regular basis – whatever regular means to you – and poured life and love and living water into your children or spouse or a small group of friends? Or if you're a leader who works with a campus ministry or high school or middle school youth group–why not have a Power Hour the next time you gather together?
Q. Parents: How do you react when your children tell you shocking news? How are you cultivating an atmosphere for your children to speak freely? If you aren't, what steps will you take to give them this freedom? If you're willing, share examples of Hard Things your children shared and how your responded.
Friends: Could you use a Power Hour? Do you realize you're in a pattern of negative-speak with the people around you–family, friends, co-workers? What specifically can we do to redeem our words for our good and God's glory?
With love and gratefulness to the One who gives us only Good Words,
Robin
:angel:
When Friendship Is God-Given
Jul 30, 2013 01:10 am | Christen Price
Even though we were eating chips and salsa, it wasn't the heat of the peppers that had tears streaming down my face. My God-given friend, Ashley, was telling me her latest story about trying to dye Easter eggs with her 20-month-old twin girls. Let's just say it was a fail. The tears that night weren't out of sadness, but laughter. Since I'm a mom of twin girls too, I could easily relate to her story.
Ashley and I don't just share stories about our twins. We have shared life adventures since we were in dance class at three, cheerleaders at sixteen, and married our high school sweethearts at twenty-three.
I think God started our friendship so long ago because he knew just how much we would need each other today.
Because I know she gets it when I quietly say my oldest is strong-willed while my youngest is an angel. How could two girls, identical in looks, born only two minutes apart, be so different yet wildly the same?
When she is hesitant to say yes to a family beach trip with our bunch because her girls don't sleep well, I tell her that I care more about spending time with her than I do sleep. And, who better gets traveling with twins than me?
Or, how we offer each other advice for ways to connect with other moms in our communities since we've both moved in the past year. Moving is tough, don't you agree?
Growing twin girls is exhilarating, challenging, and stretches us both beyond our wildest dreams. We have each other to call after failed grocery store trips, play dates, and pediatrician appointments. When we get together in real life for a night at the fair, with our husbands and two double strollers, onlookers stare at us with the same look they give the guy with five arms. We are truly a sight to see.
Having a friend whose life is so intertwined with mine has to be God-given. Nothing else can explain the bond that we share. Ashley texted me this passage from her devotion Instructing a Child's Heart and I have to agree with it: "Friendships are for the purpose of glorifying God, encouraging others, showing love and compassion, and gaining encouragement to do what is right."
Isn't that the truth? Real friendship is about showing each other compassion when running late for lunch and encouragement after the it's-been-one-of-those-days tears. Friendships are a unique form of love, binding individuals together through traditions, inside jokes, and advice. God gives us friends because he knows we aren't meant to glorify him alone. He is meant to be shared, like Oreos and milk, cute necklaces, and what products work on curly hair in this summer humidity.
Our waiter came to our table and asked us if we needed anything else. "No," we replied. We had each other. After paying, we walked outside much later than we had originally told our husbands, and hugged. We both needed that night, more than we needed the chips and salsa.
Question: Who is your God-given friend? How has she encouraged you?
By Christen Price at illuminate
:angel:
He Will Make a Way
Aug 01, 2013 01:10 am | Tammy Strait
Toes barely touching the water I look out at the horizon. The mountains cast their shadows deep into the lake; a cloudy grey sky threatens rain. We link arms, my brother and I. Barefoot, we stand on the beach. A bond about to be forged in the deep, cold water; the miles we are about to travel. We gaze in silent surrender to that distant place. Knowing, and yet not knowing, what lies before us.
Adrift in the moment we lose track of time. A cannon blares and we dive. A mass of bodies pierces the stillness of the once calm lake. A thundering storm erupts beneath the water and we are separated. Calm, silent surrender is immediately overtaken by panic and fear. Alone. Kicking, thrashing, drowning. It's happening. I'm going to die. I roll onto my back coughing water out of my lungs and stare fixedly at the clouded sky. As if looking directly into the Father's eyes I cry out: "Lord, where are you? Please. Help."
An army of arms closing behind me, I turn quickly and begin my stroke. Stay calm. One, two, three, breathe. One, two, breathe. Rhythm, timing, uninterrupted in prayer: "Lord, go before me. Make a way."
Much of life can feel like drowning. Arms flailing, legs kicking, we struggle to get our head above water. Pushed and pulled down by others trying to get by, ahead. We coach ourselves: one, two, three, breathe. One, two, breathe...
So many times we're scared to leave the safety of the shore.
Or we stay in the comfort of the shallows.
But we're called to go deep.
We believe if we train hard enough or practice long enough, we will succeed on our own. That hours spent in the pool will help us when we face open water.
But when the water gets deep and our feet no longer touch, we realize that our strength is not enough. Our weakness becomes frighteningly real as we face the unforgiving depths of the darkness.
For me, nothing captures the faithfulness of God like my swim on Ironman morning. People ask: what was it like? I pause because there's no way to describe it without sharing the intimate presence of a faithful Father.
Amongst thousands of bodies equally frightened and terrified of drowning; He went before me. He made a way.
In that moment I realized we are companions of fear, each of us afraid to unclench our fist and surrender to the One who knows the depth of our soul. Who hears the desperate cries of our heart. We know this and yet we struggle to believe it is true.
And we're faced with the paradox that we cannot fully rest in Him if we don't follow Him into deep water.
I've always been afraid of a shallow life. Yet too often fear of depths still scares me enough to stay on the shore.
But I'm tired of shallow living. Finished with the safety on the shoreline. If you're ready I'll swim with you in open water, past the boundary into the depths of our fear. Because I believe He will meet us there.
Meet us where we can no longer rely on our own understanding or strength. Where we must believe in something bigger and greater than ourselves. When we realize He is all we need. He is all we've ever needed.
Where in your life are you afraid to follow God into deep water? What makes you believe He won't make a way?
Come with me.
Toes in the water, eyes on the horizon.
Dive. He's waiting.
:angel:
Pigment & Perfume {and what really matters}
Aug 02, 2013 01:20 am | Angie Smith
They are long, delicate strokes of a paintbrush on my cheek, and they distract me from what I have to do when she's done.
We chat about life and make-up and hair products and the fun parts, but eventually the truth spills out in a choked whisper.
"I hate this." I say to her as the bulbs flash and the music plays a few minutes later. The photographer is a friend, and he knows I've dreaded this the same way I did the last one.
But the make-up artist doesn't know me, and I think she's surprised.
In most of the photos, I am serious-faced. In a few I'm pretending to laugh, and in others I'm staring off to the side, likely dreaming the studio will transform itself into a library. At one point he sets me up in front of a circle of bright lights, and I try to look straight ahead but I'm wincing inside. He takes a few and suggests something else, asking me if it felt too vulnerable.
I like him because he has that kind of intuition, but I shake my head no. No, it's not too vulnerable, I say. But it is. All of it.
She watches me while the wind pushes hair off my face and even though we're virtually strangers, I know she understands. Gentle hands on a brush, deep words on her tongue. I sense that she's more interested in knowing people than she is in giving them the appearance of perfect cheekbones. I decide she's a little bit of a refuge in the storm of insecurity for me, and I'm grateful.
It will wash off later tonight while warm, soapy water fills the sink again. And I will look into the face that my children know as mommy. I'll breathe it all in and try to let it go. But the lens doesn't ever go away completely, not for any of us.
Am I making something that matters?
So much of life is seen through the camera; it's pigment and perfume and the fleeting sense that maybe none of it will amount to more than a shadow of who we really were.
The hours I've spent in books and studios, in hotels and interviews – all of it can feel more like a stage than a legacy. And it makes me question my time, my priorities, and what I'm leaving behind on the filmstrips.
When we finish, she starts to pack up her things and says sweetly, "I don't really care about makeup."
She smiles, and I understand the weight of her words.
She loves the people, the purpose, and the heart behind it. She's gifted at the art, no question. But that's not really the ultimate draw for her.
She doesn't put stock in the bottles and pins, but she didn't miss the opportunity to use them as a means to a beautiful end, and her ministry resides where her obedience settled.
I don't want to waste my time, but even more importantly, I don't want to call something a waste of time when it's really an instrument entrusted to me. The temptation is ever-present, isn't it? And the enemy thrives where that questioning begins, leading us down roads of insecurity and striving.
I hear the clicking of the camera, the typing of the keys, the sound of the dishwasher, the car doors opening and closing, and the way she breathes when she's ready to sleep.
All of it will be swept away one day, distanced by years and memory, washed away like soapy water.
And it looks meaningless when you're knee-deep in the search for meaning, which is exactly why we sometimes miss the forest for the trees. We're so caught up in our own ideas of importance that we look past the brush He has lovingly placed in our hands.
Hours bleed one into another, tasks pile high while I wonder if I'll ever be what I was meant to me. But there is a vulnerability that comes when we stare deep into the camera, stand still when we want to run, and trust that one day it will look the way it should.
I wonder if there's an area in your life where you're tempted to believe that your role is periphery to the important matters, or where you feel like you're treading water. I believe that even in those tender places, He has equipped you to use the temporary to make a mark on eternity.
Ask for His wisdom and courage, and trust the tools He has given you. If you are willing, I would love to know what areas of your life you resisted or doubted, and what came of your obedience. Let's encourage our sisters to look for His will instead of our agenda, and to walk in full confidence of what He will do with it in return.
Love and prayers to you today,
Angie
:angel:
The Daily Struggle
Aug 03, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
On a summer morning we walk toward the house amidst air so moisture-laden you could wring it out. My sister Megan knows somebody who will give us a tour of the beautiful old house, the same house that is featured in a new movie called August in Osage County. I don't know much about the movie except that its backdrop is the county I grew up in, it's based on a play, and it stars Julia Roberts, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Meryl Streep.
The house creaks with history, and we enjoy learning parts of it while the kids run circles in the cavernous rooms. I wonder what the original owners would think if they knew Hollywood had camped in their kitchen and driveway. I also wonder what the producers would have done if this house hadn't been here. Osage County isn't chock-full of hundred-year-old spacious homes surrounded by acres of property. But this one is here, and as I stroll the second story veranda, a thought wades through the thick air,
This house stands strong today because someone invested in building something of quality long ago.
You just never know how your actions today will alter your tomorrows.
I keep thinking of this as the calendar slides to August sticky and slow, like popsicle juice down my arm. I lick every last drop because I don't want to miss the last taste of summer. Our family has been traveling and hiking and gardening and reading and swimming and wearing jammies 'til noon. I love it all, but there's a price for all this summer fun.
In the Strong house, dust camouflages the color of every furniture piece, laundry loads stand tall as my daughter, and piles of disorder threaten to stage a coup. About the time I get down about this is when I hear my grandma's voice calling Cleanliness is next to godliness! If I actually bought into that, I'd be concerned for the state of my soul.
But sometimes I do buy into the wrestling that goes on in my mind, the kind that convinces me no matter what I'm doing, I'm making the wrong choice. For example:
When I hang with the family. (You should mop these floors rather than rely on the dog to do it for you.)
When I clean. (You should pay more attention to your family than your dust.)
When I write. (You should be doing either of the above or a thousand other productive things.)
Sometimes the Enemy goes to not-so-great lengths to steal my contentment. But the Lord gives my anxious heart rest by asking one simple question:
Kristen, how will your actions today alter your tomorrows?
I turn a new direction where a cool breeze meets my face and a sincere message meets my heart: God wants me to care for the hearts in my home first and foremost. For me to do this, the above (and so much more!) must all be invariably accomplished, and in different seasons the amount of time spent on each one changes. But when something other than what I'm doing in this moment wearily tugs on my sleeve, I can choose the action that will best influence our tomorrow so that a hundred years from now, my family legacy will still stand strong.
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. We are free from any agenda other than what He guides us to this day. This moment.
That big white home in Osage County, Oklahoma stands strong because someone invested in building something of quality long ago. For today and all our tomorrows, may the same be true for your family and mine.
Do you sometimes struggle with the pull to be somewhere other than where you are? How do you tune into God's agenda and rest in His contentment moment by moment?
Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
Nourishing the Soul
Aug 05, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one.
~ Oscar Wilde
"A joyful heart is good medicine..."
~ Proverbs 17:22a
When people come together for a common purpose with the heartfelt desire to demonstrate their love for God by simply loving others, something remarkable happens:
Beauty is born, lives are changed and Kingdom comes.
This is the essence of Bloom: women with a love of reading coming together to mine the treasure buried within a book's pages, thinking out loud with one another, seeking God in the midst. Regardless of what book we choose to study, our common goal of knowing God more intimately binds us into a reading community where we are maturing as individuals, together.
Bloom studies are never intended to replace personal Bible study but to complement them. We also hope as readers thrive among a virtual community, their hunger for real-life community will grow, and maybe even provide that gentle nudge to be brave and seek a Bible or book study where you can sit shoulder to shoulder with other women...close enough to hug when you need it.
Because sometimes a girlfriend's physical touch brings healing to a wounded heart. Community is inherent in our Triune God – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – and because we're created in that image, it's a natural craving.
We've just completed our summer Bloom study, Bread & Wine: a love letter to life around the table by Shauna Niequist (have you tried the Breakfast Cookie recipe we shared last week?). Bloom founders and study hosts (and, of course, (in)courage writers) Jessica Turner and Angie Smith spent a day with Shauna digging into some of the chapters that meant a lot to them; and that they thought would be significant to woman joining the study.
This is how Bloom studies typically go: Angie and Jessica will join the featured author to discuss their book in detail, and if the author isn't available they'll invite guests to take part (like our previous study of Prayer by Richard Foster). Their conversations are videoed, and each week Bloom subscribers can view their videos and read the posts written to companion them. Because all studies are archived, you can go back and watch/read them all at your convenience.
Last week, we began our wrap-up of Bread & Wine with a community-wide link-up for which we hope YOU will share something you've written (there's still time!):
There's a beautiful Mary & Martha giveaway up for grabs among those who link up (valued at $144)! Three participants will each receive the Heirloom White Platter, the Antique Teal Serving Bowl and the Memo Board with Easel from the Grace & Gratitude Collection (more about the items on pages 50-53). Having followed the study isn't a prerequisite; posts written on the general topics of food, community and hospitality are welcome, as well as favorite family recipes or even reviews of Bread and Wine. You can even link old posts as long as they suit the topic. (You must link by 8/9/13 to be eligible, and comment to writers of the posts before and after your link number; U.S. addresses only, please.)
As promised, we're sharing something FUN to begin your week on a happy note. Laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. By the time we got to our last cooking video, we might have gotten a teensy case of the sillies. The Sofa Girls talked long and deep about the content; I typed notes furiously throughout the day (in order to write companion posts). And after nearly eight hours of filming? Well...there are bound to be a few moments that otherwise don't fit into a Chapter Video.
Like these.
Watch...and enjoy.
Please subscribe to Bloom so you'll have first notice about our upcoming fall study and information about Recommended Reads between studies. Like Bloom on Facebook to continue our community's on-going conversation and to share what you're reading. And for convenience, we've created a playlist of Bread & Wine videos so you can easily find them for quick viewing.
I've enjoyed every minute of our study of Bread & Wine; and I hope every one of you joins us in the fall!
~ Robin, Bloom Coordinator
:angel:
Bench Flooded By Water
Help
Aug 06, 2013 01:20 am | Deidra Riggs
I used to dislike having my foods touch each other on my plate. I'd hold my fork in my right hand and use the tines to separate each item on my plate. I wanted to own a stack of plates with dividers in them so I could put the vegetables in one compartment, the protein in a different compartment, and guarantee they'd never run in to each other.
"It all gets mixed together in your belly," a friend once told me. I knew that. But still.
Also? And, I'll admit this is a bit strange, but when I was a little girl, I didn't like other people touching me. Riding in a car, with three people crammed into the back seat — me in the middle between two grown-ups, with my feet on the hump in the floor, my skinny knees jutted toward the little plastic light mounted in the roof of the car. I'd wrap my arms around my knees and try to hold my little body steady over the bumps and through the turns in the road, so that my skin didn't touch the skin of the people on either side of me.
I don't know what my aversion was, or where I got it into my head that it was best to keep a reasonable distance. I'd have been glad to build compartments in the back seat of every car, just so I could ride down the Garden State Parkway without giving up any personal space.
It wasn't so much about me touching others. It was more about them touching me.
If I'm being honest, I have to confess I'm like that in my grown-up life too. I like to live life in the comfort zone of my own bubble of personal space. I don't mind reaching out to you, because that's on my terms. But when you start reaching out to me, I begin wondering what to do with my arms and wishing I could find a polite way to say, "Um, excuse me. But do you see the bubble here around me? Did you happen to notice that it's a boundary?"
One day, I heard someone say that each time I say "No" to a person who reaches out to me with compassion, I rob that person of the opportunity to exercise her gift. I wish I could tell you where I heard this, but I honestly can't remember. Suffice it to say, it made an impact on me.
I started thinking about all the times someone has offered to help me by cooking a meal, running an errand, making a few phone calls, or just saying, "How can I help?" I'd hear the offer and immediately reply, "Oh, I've got this. Thanks for the offer, though."
I was grateful they had offered. But I didn't really know how to accept. I didn't know how to say "Yes" without having the strange feeling I had revealed a chink in my armor. What's up with that? I had to wonder to myself.
So I started paying attention. When someone offered to help me, I said, "Yes." It sounded like one, simple, three-letter word to anyone within earshot, but on the inside, it sounded more like, I think what you're supposed to say here is yes, and even though you have a strong inclination to do the usual thing and brush them off and try to point out the little bubble thing you've got going on, you really and truly ought to say... "Yes."
Ta-da! The world kept spinning on its axis!
The ground didn't open up and swallow me. The person asking if they could help got right to work without batting an eyelash, and I had one less thing on my crazy list of things I had to accomplish.
Me walking around with my lines drawn, my compartments established, my walls built high was keeping me far from understanding the truth about the Body of Christ. Jesus tore down all the walls we build up to keep each other at a distance. I'm the one who keeps trying to build the walls up again. You too? Sometimes, I build those walls so high, I can't see my way to the top, and I wonder how in the world I'll ever get out again.
On a good day, I remember Jesus telling me that He, Himself, is the Way. He's the way through the walls I build up. So I turn the knob, swing that door wide open on hinges oiled with grace, and there you are on the other side, smiling and asking me, "How can I help?"
:angel: :angel:
Aug 06, 2013 01:10 am | Heather Lewis Powell
In talking with the Samaritan woman Jesus assured her, "anyone who drinks the water I give him will never be thirsty. In fact, the water I give will become a spring of water in him. It will flow up into eternal life." John 4:14
"I will bless any man who trusts in me. I will show my favor to the one who depends on me. He will be like a tree planted near water. It sends its roots beside a stream. It is not afraid when the heat comes. Its leaves are always green. It does not worry when there is no rain. It always bears fruit." Jeremiah 17:7 – 8
I recently heard of a simple bench building community. The story is of neighbors who knew each other by sight and sometimes chatted by mailboxes. Then one day, a bench appeared. The bench became a natural spot to sit and watch the kids play and ride bikes. Gradually those who had brief chats by mailboxes would find themselves gathering at the bench to share life's joys and struggles together (sometimes for hours). Neighbors who had known of each other for years actually grew to know each other thanks to the neutral ground of a bench. The bench created a bridge to community.
Oasis (DivorceCare) was a bench of community for me. Every Monday night, we'd tentatively open up and share our wounds, our hopes. I am grateful for the glimpse of God's redemption in each story, even in the anguish and heartache.
Earlier today, heavy-hearted and lonely, I stopped for a short break in my workday. The outside called to me. I wanted to hear the birds and wind in the trees. With only a few moments, I started down the walkway longing to be wonderstruck by God's presence. Craving His peace. I noticed water had flooded the area along the path from the recent storm. I prayed, "Lord, will you flood me with Your Spirit, Your Goodness, as a result of the storm of unexpected divorce in my life? I long to be saturated by You, Your Living Water, Your Grace, Your Hope. Flood me, Lord. Don't let this pain be in vain."
Halting abruptly, I chuckled as I saw a bench around the bend with rushing water surrounding it. Recalling the recent story of the Bench, I was wonderstruck by the sound of the water, the sunlight reflecting through the green trees and this glorious bench appearing to float in the water. My soul sighed within me. I couldn't go any further unless I was willing to get soaked.
You are my Community – God places the lonely in family. I miss the family I once had. I miss my husband and miss being a wife. That dream has been shattered. But I have you, friends near and far whom God uses to mend the broken pieces of my heart. I admit, right now . . . I need you in my life. The independent side of me cringes as I acknowledge this need. I prefer to be strong, capable. Truth is: I have been hurting but if I believe and trust in Him, streams of living water will flow from me and I will not fear the heat or worry because I will be firmly rooted in Him. And if we are purposeful in seeking Him, intentional in building community with each other —- I believe we will get soaked as we are flooded by His Living Water.
It takes risk. Have you been lonely lately? Thirsty to know He sees you and believes in you? He believes in you and me enough to die for us. Will you meet me at the bench rising above the storms of this life to spur each other on?
Let us not forget about one another as we move forward. It takes effort. Reach out to Him, extend a word of encouragement to someone who needs it. You are Beloved of God. I am too. Breathe. Look around, be wonderstruck by His Love for you. It doesn't have to be earned, it just is. You are His.
By: Heather Lewis Powell
:angel: :angel:
Let Us Be Known By What We Love
Aug 07, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
"Gator Hater! Gator Hater!" the kids yell throughout the van while I scan our surroundings for the cause. There it is: the license plate on the car in front of us reads G8TRH8TR. Gator Hater.
I've lived in Georgia long enough to be familiar with the rivals on our southern and western borders. One of the strongest sports rivalries even polarizes Georgians: Georgia Tech vs. the University of Georgia. We transplanted from Arkansas, a place without professional teams where an entire state unites behind the Razorbacks.
Staring at that license plate while the kids chant its message I hold onto one thought: how sad to be defined by what you hate rather than what you love.
By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another. ~John 13:35
I ponder this for days, turning it over and over in my mind: how often do I live like the driver of that car, allowing myself to be defined by the wrong things?
Do I want to be known for having a clean house and feeding my guests well, or for truly making them feel welcome?
Am I known for having something interesting to say or for listening with my full attention?
Do others know more about the things I oppose or the things I support?
I start to catch myself when I frown and admittedly it's more than I'd like. Is it easier for me to show disapproval or love? Do I tell my children and my husband things I wish they'd change or revel in the things I love about them?
It's easy to point out weakness in others or areas that need change. I do it often enough. But my shoulders hunch and pride blinds when criticism points in my direction.
Lord, soften my heart. Make me quick to show grace, slow to censure, ever teachable. Let my life reflect what and Who I love and not petty grievances and thoughtless words spoken.
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
{If you're looking for an August desktop calendar, you can download one here.}
:angel:
When You Wonder if You'll Ever Measure Up
Aug 08, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
I don't remember the first time I felt it. (This could be a story about me")
It could have been in the third grade when I was the last one picked for the kickball team or when I met my first mean girl at 12. Or it might have been when I opened my mouth to sing like my musical brother and sister and discovered I was tone deaf.
Not being enough has sort of been a faithful companion in life....always there, reminding me of ways I didn't fit in or belong. When I didn't date much in high school or couldn't get pregnant for the first five years of my marriage, I believed the ever-present words whispered in my ear.
When I walked into a room full of stylish, pretty women, and searched for a familiar face, I knew the words that would pop into my head.
I don't remember the first time I didn't measure up.
But I do remember the first time I stopped measuring.
I was a freshman in college, rooming with my twin sister. I called my mom on the phone and when she answered, I said hurriedly , "Mom, did you know I'm petite?"
She laughed at my crazy question and said, "Of course, honey. You're 5'2. That's petite by most standards. Why are you asking?"
I replied, "But Mom, I'm the big twin. I had no idea I was petite!"
Years later we still laugh about my epiphany.
But this new realization was remarkable to me. I had spent my entire childhood being compared to my twin sister, who was my opposite in so many ways (not just because she could sing well). We were born five minutes apart and I towered over her 4'10″ frame. I was shocked when someone referred to me as petite.
But that's because I was measuring myself by the wrong perspective.
And that's what comparison does: it skews our view of ourselves and we begin to believe the lie–
The one that says we aren't
pretty enough
smart enough
stylish enough
skinny enough
tall enough
young enough
Enough.
And honestly, maybe we aren't by the world's measurements. We truly can never be all those things and certainly not at the same time. But that's okay.
"Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think any thing as of ourselves; but our sufficiency is of God." 2 Corinthians 3:5
We don't have to be enough. Because He is. All the time. And even better, through Him–we are enough, just like we are. He makes up for what we lack. He takes our inadequacies and unrighteousness and trades it in for His perfection.
When we can't, He can. When we don't, He does. When we don't measure up, He does.
And this is enough for all of us.
Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel: :angel:
Your Name In Christ
Aug 08, 2013 01:10 am | Crystal Brothers
"My name is NO NO, but Grandma calls me precious" (sorry, I don't know how to put the photo here")
A few days ago, a Facebook friend shared a photo similar to the one above with the same text.
And that photo really spoke to me.
Like this precious little girl, you and I have an accuser. The Bible says in Revelation 12:10 that Satan is accusing us before God, day and night.
Satan is the father of lies, and he will lie to you about who you are and what you are.
He whispers in your ear that you are a failure. That you're not good enough. That you're useless. That you're unloved and unlovable.
He tells you that you aren't pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, talented enough, or wealthy enough.
He wants you to compare and find yourself lacking, and to think that all the women around you are better than you.
He tells you that you don't matter. That you can't do anything for Jesus. That your small contribution to God's kingdom isn't enough.
He says you're a bad mother, a bad wife.
He reminds you of all your sins. And he says that you have to live in that place of defeat.
In short, he tells you that your name is "failure."
Like most convincing lies, his are peppered with truth. You see, without Christ, so much of what Satan says would be true.
Like this little girl, we also have a redeemer. Praise God! A voice of truth, and life, and power.
And while Satan might tell you that your name is failure, God calls you something entirely different.
God calls you his child, his heir – what an honor!
God says that you are loved, unconditionally – while we were yet in sin, He loved us!
God calls you fearfully and wonderfully made, and precious in His sight.
God says that you are worth dying for! His word tells us that there is now therefore no condemnation in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1).
He says that we are more than conquerers in Christ Jesus; that we are overcomers. We have all victory and power over Satan through Him.
So, even if this world and the accuser make you feel that your name is failure, never forget that the Almighty God of the universe calls you forgiven, blessed, redeemed, loved, and precious in His sight.
And, that same verse in Revelation tells us the rest of the story. Our accuser does not win this war! The victory belongs to God alone:
"Then I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, "Now salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of His Christ have come, for the accuser of our brethren, who accused them before our God day and night, has been cast down." -Revelation 12:10
Satan is jealous and he hates you. You have a favored position with God and he wants to strip that away from you. But we know the end of the story! Christ reigns and the enemy is cast down.
I pray that God's words of life, truth, and power will speak into your life and overcome the lies of the enemy on your heart today!
(I didn't provide references for all the quoted or referenced verses in this post, but you can find a great list of affirmations in Christ on Joyce Meyer's website.)
Can you share some encouragement today? What is your favorite verse of encouragement that reminds you who you are in Christ?
By Crystal Brothers, Serving Joyfully
:angel:
of the Greatest Hymns in Church History
Aug 09, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
Plato once said, "Music is... wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything." God has created music similar to certain extravagant parts of creation, like the redwoods and the turquoise Mediterranean waters and the northern lights: it begs us to stop everything and pay attention.
And when truly excellent music angles our attention heavenward? It changes you. And when enough lovers of God collectively listen to the words and the music—it can cause a shift in the Body, the Church. It changes us.
There are many, many hymns in thousands of languages throughout the history of the Church (all of which began first as poetry). But there are a few select hymns that have stood the test of time and are with us today because they have changed us as a Body. Their birth shifted our collective trajectory for the better.
Here are some of the greatest hymns to have changed the Church. I've included certain versions I love, plus a final playlist at the end.
(Note: I am a native English speaker, so my list of faves falls in that category—but there are countless hymns full of truth in languages all over the world.)
8th century
1. Be Thou My Vision
This humble prayer began as a medieval Celtic poem in the eighth century, but it wasn't translated into English and put to music until 1905, by Mary Byrne.
Recording by Abigail Zsiga
1225
2. All Creatures of Our God and King
St. Francis of Assisi was known as a lover of nature and animals, and he also loved music. He wrote over 60 hymns, including this one in 1225 reflecting his compassion for creation. It caused the Church to stop and recognize the power and significance of nature, and not just human nature.
Recording by Patty Griffin
1674
3. Doxology
Thomas Ken was born in 1637 and orphaned soon after. Raised by his sister and her husband, he became an Oxford scholar and eventually became chaplain to members of royalty before becoming a bishop in the Anglican church. He wrote a manual of prayers in 1674, including a three-verse one simply named Morning Hymn. The doxology (which is simply a combination of two Greek words to mean 'word of glory') as we know today is the final verse of this poem, and it's often sung without music.
Recording by Gungor
1758
4. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Robert Robinson was a rather difficult, headstrong boy, so when he turned 14 in 1749, his mother sent him to London for an apprenticeship (his dad died several years prior). He got in to even more trouble in London, and when he was 17, went with some of his friends to a meeting to make fun of Christians where George Whitfield would be preaching. It moved him deeply, and began his search for God where he finally became a Christian three years later.
He became a pastor, and at age 23, he wrote this poem to accompany one of his sermons, its words full of admittance to his own fleshly nature compared to God's divine. It was set to music in 1813.
Recording by Sufjan Stevens
1773
5. Amazing Grace
Considered a folk hymn, it was first published in 1779 but originally written for a New Year's Day sermon in 1773 by John Newton, an English poet. Its focus is on the redemption found only in Jesus—a simple but profound truth during a lot of Church division.
The song actually wasn't too popular until the American 2nd Great Awakening in the early 19th century, and it then became widely known as an African American spiritual.
Recording by Jadon Lavik
1835
6. Just As I Am
When poet Charlotte Elliott was at a dinner party in the early 19th century, an elderly man asked her if she was a Christian. She considered his question inappropriate, but later asked him what he meant. Charlotte eventually decided to follow Christ after talking with him, and wrote Just As I Am in 1835 soon after, remembering his words that she could come to Jesus "just as she was."
This later became a popular song during Billy Graham's crusades in the 20th century.
Recording by Nichole Nordeman
1861
7. Holy, Holy, Holy
Reginald Heber's widow found the words to his poem written in private (we're not sure when), but it was years later, in 1861, when a publisher found it and asked John Dykes to compose the music. He wrote it in 30 minutes and first named in Nicea, in honor of the First Council of Nicea in 325, the first effort to attain consensus in the Church.
Recording by Sufjan Stevens
1873
8. It Is Well
Abolitionist activist Horatio Spafford had a nice life in the Chicago suburbs with his wife and five children and always welcomed guests in their home. Then in 1870, his 4-year-old died of scarlet fever, and in 1871 the Great Chicago Fire destroyed most of his investments (which were in Chicago real estate).
In 1873, the family wanted to sail to Europe for much-needed time away from their tragedy and to help in a revival, but on the day of departure, Horatio had a last-minute business emergency. He sent the family on ahead and planned to follow on another ship in a few days. But their ship was struck by another ship and sank in 12 minutes—the remainder of his four children died and only his wife was saved and brought to England. He immediately set sail to be with his wife, and as his ship passed the place where his daughters drowned, he penned It Is Well, and music was composed to accompany it in 1876.
Recording by Sara Groves
1885
9. How Great Thou Art
Carl Bobert was a Swede was walking home from church and listening to the church's bells in 1885. A sudden, awe-inspiring storm gripped his attention, and then just as suddenly as it arrived, it subsided to a calm. After watching this display of nature, he went home and penned this poem. He published it in 1886, then it was matched to a Swedish folk tune in 1888 and then translated in to German in 1907, Russian in 1912, and finally English in 1925.
Recording by Martina McBride
1923
10. Great Is Thy Faithfulness
Thomas Chisolm spent most of his life sick, but in a rare bout of health, he went on a missions trip. While traveling, he corresponded with William Runyan, a good friend of his, and they often exchanged poems they had written. Runyan found this poem of Thomas' so moving that he composed music to accompany it, publishing it in 1923. It wasn't noticed until several years later by a Moody Bible Institute professor, who requested it be sung in their chapel services.
Recording by Sarah Macintosh
1863
11. Before The Throne
Charitie Lees Smith was the daughter of an Irish pastor and his wife, and in 1863, at age 22, she wrote a poem called The Advocate to accompany one of his sermons. She continued to write other poems and eventually had them published in 1867 in a book titled Within The Veil.
Almost every line of her poem is taken directly from different parts of Scripture, making it rich with theology—useful for sermons. We're unsure when its name was changed and music was written for accompaniment.
Recording by Shane & Shane
There are many, many more hymns (heck, I didn't even touch any of the 6,000 hymns written by Charles Wesley!). They are poetry of our history, and I think it's important to keep teaching these words and melodies to the next generation, so that we can keep these doctrinally-rich hymns in the Church.
Here's the playlist, so that you can pipe each of these hymns throughout your home or in your ears today. They'll help keep your focus heavenward.
Which hymn is your all-time favorite?
:angel:
Sunday Scripture
Aug 11, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
Just as a body, though one, has many parts,
but all its many parts form one body,
so it is with Christ.
For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body
—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—
and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.
Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.
But God has put the body together,
giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it,
so that there should be no division in the body,
but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.
If one part suffers, every part suffers with it;
if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.
1 Corinthians 12:12-14, 25-26
:angel: :angel:
August 11
Psalms 119:14
I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches.
Thoughts on today's verse
Our treasure and our truth come from Scripture, God's guidance to avoid Satan's harmful traps and live in God's blessed life.
Prayer:
Holy God, thank you for your written word, the Scriptures. May they come alive in my life just as they do in my heart and mind. Through Jesus I pray. Amen.
:angel:
Years ago my daughter wanted to be a Girl Scout Brownie.
She saw the group of little girls in their brown and blue uniforms standing together after school on Fridays, giggling and waiting to go on to whatever adventure was next for them. It was hiking one day, cooking class the next week and a whole host of other little-girl-centered activities.
One day as we piled in the car she said, "I want to be a Brownie, Mama!" No doubt, she simply wanted to be in the "uniform" club, among the girls who get to wear something that gives them a special identity during the day at school.
I told her I would see what I could do and over the next few days, I set out to find one of the Brownie leaders.
"No. I'm so sorry. But we've decided that this is a closed group," she told me.
I guess I was a Girl Scout newbie at this point and I didn't understand that someone could "close" a group. Why wouldn't they want more girls? I offered to help, to be a leader, to let the girls meet at our house even.
"No. Again, I'm sorry. We just don't have any more room."
I'm sure there are more heartbreaking conversations one can have with a child, but this one hurt for sure. "Baby," I started. "The group is simply not letting anyone else in." Even I didn't understand the concept I was trying to explain.
It brought up all the times that I'd been left out in school. The times they saved the seat for someone else and the times they talked about the slumber party over the weekend I hadn't known about. Or the time they all said let's play hide-and-go-seek but they really played ditch-em. And I was alone. I hated that my girl was being left out.
We humans love to say to each other,
You can't play.
There isn't enough room for you.
Oh, I'm sorry, this seat's taken.
This is an exclusive group.
It's not like we want to be mean, really.
We say these kinds of things because it makes us feel, I believe, more IN ourselves. Included. Incorporated. Inside. Just IN.
And so what we do is exclude.
We are afraid of losing our own inside status and we are afraid of being left out ourselves, so we push others out of the way. We are afraid that we will be the one they play ditch-em on.
And to be honest, it just feels good to be on the inside.
What if we decided to push against this paradigm, to open our hearts, and our minds, to others who might not be inside? And what if we recognized the fear in those people who do the excluding, that they are simply worried that they won't be a part of the group themselves? What if we stopped worrying about whether we were IN or OUT?
What if we decided to be includers rather than excluders?
There are people around every one of us who are dying to be seen, to be loved, to be included in a simple conversation. There are people who just need someone to remember them, to say "hello" or to really care about the answer to "how are you?"
Did you know that we can be world changers simply by opening up our hearts?
I don't think those Brownie moms were trying to be mean. They didn't intend to create an exclusive club, I'm sure.
The next year, a few of the other mothers began our own Girl Scout troop. And we decided from the very beginning that it would be open to whoever wanted to be a part. We started by inviting all the girls in the class and continued on with the idea that this would be for everyone.
I think this is at the heart of God, that we open the doors up for everyone who would be a part, that we become inclusive rather than exclusive.
Have you ever been excluded? How do you try to include others?
Do you believe we can change the world by opening up our hearts?
:angel: :angel:
You Don't Have to Do "More"
Aug 12, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
We all hear it sometimes...the whisper in our hearts that says, "You really should be doing more." It usually intrudes right into the middle of our ordinary. When we're washing dishes. Or changing diapers. Or driving to work in the morning.
A wise friend of mine says that lie is a dangerous one because every time we tell ourselves we should be doing "more," it leads to less...
Being less present where we are right now.
Less peace.
Less joy.
Less love for those who are right in front of us.
Can you trust that you're where you're supposed to be in this moment, doing what you're supposed to be doing, and if that's supposed to change then God will make that clear to you? Yes, be open to new possibilities. Learn. Grow. Take steps forward.
But say "no" to the lie that you must do more.
It's simply not true.
So take a deep breath, lean into grace, and live fully where you are today...God is already taking care of tomorrow {and He's the only one who can}.
XOXO
Holley Gerth
:angel:
Tips for (in)couragement: Part Two
Aug 14, 2013 01:20 am | Crystal Stine
If you missed the Part One, you can read it here.
"Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn't love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that." Ephesians 5:1-2, MSG
1. Invest
2. Inspire
3. Think outside the box
4. Commit
5. Be brave
These first five steps? I've seen them in action over the last month. I've seen women who have only met online walk into airport terminals and hotel lobbies, eyes and arms filled with love and grace. I've felt the power of a community of prayer-warrior women change my anxiety to bravery. I've seen love poured out in gifts of cupcakes, kind words, genuine kindness, and overwhelming generosity. And I've seen my heart – broken and scarred by past hurts – healed and inspired by community that puts God at the center.
Last month you were invited to share your favorite (in)couragement ideas, and they were amazing! Today, as promised, I'm sharing 5 more "go to" tips for (in)couraging your community:
6. Trust
When you've settled into your new community, when you feel as though you've found your spot on the bench, and you're making connections with your sisters, trust them. Share the good, the bad, the prayer requests with the knowledge that they'll keep it between themselves and God if you ask them to do so, and do the same for them. As you open up and allow them in, they'll do the same, and you'll see opportunities to encourage one another unfold.
7. Pray
Something beautiful happens when you share your story with your community and they commit to praying. It might look like waking up in the morning to text messages, Tweets, and emails checking in to see how you're doing, voicemail messages letting you know you're being prayed for, and private Facebook messages filled with prayers for your situation. Online friendships don't have to be stuck on the computer screen. Join Voxer and leave little prayer messages if you don't feel comfortable trading phone numbers. Send an email with a prayer if you aren't able to text. Be creative in your connections. But at the end of the day, remember them in prayer, and check back in to let them know you're still thinking about their situation.
8. Write
Maybe voicemail and Facebook messages aren't in your comfort zone. If you would typically send a "thinking of you" card in the mail to a real life friend, consider doing the same for your online friend. Once you've built community and trust, ask your friend if she'd mind sharing her mailing address with you, so you can send her something special. Or if you aren't comfortable with that, ask for her email address so you can send an eCard!
9. Celebrate
There will be times when the "thinking of you" card will need to be the "celebrating with you" card. And at times, it can be hard. Maybe your friend got a job that you've been longing for, or launched a new blog that was an instant success and you wonder "why not me?" Encourage her. Celebrate with her and rest in the knowledge that God's timing for you, for your dreams, for you turn, are perfect. When your online friends write something beautiful, share it and cheer loudly for them. You may not see the benefit of it immediately, but one day, she'll be there to cheer for you, too.
10. Love one another
Jesus gives us a new commandment in the Gospel of John: "love one another." It's how we're set apart from the rest of the world. Maybe it looks like sharing an amazing tip that helped you become better at what you love to do, when the world says you should keep that to yourself. Or maybe it looks like stepping away from your role as wallflower and jumping in to offer a word of encouragement to someone.
I've seen women go above and beyond faceless, meaningless online connections and develop incredibly meaningful, Christ-centered friendships. I've stood humbly back and watched God put women together in small groups where they feel safe, where they can find encouragement and where "what's in it for me" becomes "how can I serve you?"
There is something in it for you, though.
When you choose to encourage, when you take the time to commit, to pay forward what God has so graciously given to you, you will be blessed. You will stand in awe as months later these women you poured your heart into now stand behind and beside you as you walk through a season of challenge. It's the kind of return on investment only God could orchestrate.
:angel:
What to do When Your Art is Rejected
Aug 16, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
It took J.K. Rowling 17 years to write the Harry Potter series.
Adam Scott originally auditioned for the part of Jim Halpert on The Office. He didn't get it.
An aspiring author wrote her first draft of a book and sent it off with hopes of publication.
"After rejection number 40, I started lying to my friends about what I did on the weekends. They were amazed by how many times a person could repaint her apartment. The truth was, I was embarrassed for my friends and family to know I was still working on the same story, the one nobody apparently wanted to read."
In the end, she was turned down 60 times.
Then, after five years of writing and three and a half years of rejection, the 61st agent finally accepted this woman's idea.
Her name was Katherine Stockett.
Her book was called The Help.
Rejection doesn't mean your idea is bad or lacks potential. It could mean that, but it doesn't automatically mean that.
What it does mean, though, is there is still work left to do. I've read that Leonardo da Vinci once said, "Art is never finished, only abandoned."
What if Katherine Stockett had stopped after her first rejection? Or her 15th? Or her 51st? What if she had stopped working to make the art better?
I know there is a danger of becoming an obsessive workaholic, focused on our own idea of success and accepting nothing less.
That's a problem all by itself. But what I see and experience more of is the opposite – quitting too soon, losing hope too quickly, and falling into despair at the first sign of rejection or difficulty.
I don't know what occupies your time today. I don't know what passions or anxieties you are holding in your hands. I don't know what kind of project you just gave up on, which relationship you hope to mend, or what dream you are waiting to see realized.
But I do know that part of the art is the process. And part of the process is rejection and disappointment.
How you handle that could be an art all by itself.
:angel:
Jesus Loves Those In Messy Marriages
Aug 15, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst
I threw the cup of orange juice across the kitchen. It felt good to do something, anything, to release all the surging anger and frustration. And I didn't even mind cleaning the pulpy, sticky mess.
It felt soothing to know how to clean something. I knew how to wipe away this mess. And I liked seeing the mess disappear.
If only my marriage mess could be fixed with soap, water, and a handful of paper towels. If only.
I whispered, God, why does this have to be so hard?
Have you ever been there?
I think many of us have. Whether we're in a really tough marriage or just in a rough patch, marriage can be messy. Hurtful. Lonely.
No one ever told me about this side of marriage before I donned the white dress and danced to MC Hammer at the reception.
But after 20 years of learning, growing, and pressing through the messes to see something beautiful form in the midst of it all, here's what I know....
Jesus loves those in messy marriages.
He loves my husband and me in the midst of it all. Jesus doesn't love the mess of hurt, isolation, and bitterness. Those are things He wants us to work on. But He never stops loving us.
Yes.
Jesus loves me. And His grace is strong enough to extend His love into every part of me. The good parts of me. The broken parts of me. The ugly parts of me. The bitter parts of me. The loving parts of me. And even the part of me that throws orange juice.
Yes, He loves me.
And Jesus loves my husband, Art. His grace is strong enough to extend His love into every part of my husband. The good parts of him. The broken parts of him. The ugly parts of him. The bitter parts of him. The loving parts of him. And even the part of him that looks at me like I'm crazy when I throw orange juice.
Since Jesus loves both of us, He's the best source of help for our marriage.
I don't say that without a deep awareness of how stinkin' hard it is to go to Jesus when I'm mad as fire at my husband.
And I certainly don't say it in naive simplicity. Gracious, I know some of you are facing marriage situations that rip your heart into a thousand pieces every day.
But still, I know Jesus is the best source of help.
Honest cries for help lifted up to Jesus will not go unheard. He sees. He knows. He loves. And Jesus will direct you as long as you stick with Him.
Jeremiah 17:7-8 in the Message reminds us:
"Blessed is the [woman] who trusts me, God,
the woman who sticks with God.
They're like trees replanted in Eden,
putting down roots near the rivers –
Never a worry through the hottest of summers,
never dropping a leaf,
Serene and calm through the droughts,
bearing fresh fruit every season."
So, how do I stick with Jesus? I proclaim I'm sticking with Jesus:
Jesus, I'm sticking with You.
I'm giving You what I don't understand and what I can't fix.
I'm giving You what I don't like about me. I'm giving You what I don't like about him. And I'm giving You what I don't like about my marriage.
I'm listening for Your instruction. I'm positioning myself to go where I'll hear Your Truth. To talk to others who love You and serve You. And to read wise instruction from good books and most importantly Your Book — the Bible.
And even if it kills me, I'm not throwing any orange juice today.
Amen.
Jesus loves those in messy marriages. I should know. Though Art and I have a wonderful marriage now, we can still hit a rough patch every once in a while.
But you'll be happy to know I haven't thrown any orange juice across the kitchen lately.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Need encouragement for those spittin' mad, orange-juice-throwing moments? Check out Lysa's book, Unglued. Click here to get your copy!
:angel: :angel:
Slowing Down To Breathe
Aug 15, 2013 01:10 am | Suzie Lind
I'm one week into a ten-week sabbatical and am barely beginning to unwind. With three kids in school and one toddling around the house, unwinding starts with a lot of undoing and unloading.
I've cleaned the house and gone through every closet but one, purging whatever I possibly can. It's been productive, but mostly what it has been is slow.
Last month, I was having a hard time taking deep breaths. I wasn't sure if it was stress, an anxiety attack waiting in the wings, or if asthma was making its come back.
A few days with an inhaler and beginning this Selah, my lungs have now refueled with air. I can now breathe. Deeply. Slowly. With all the oxygen I need.
During these slower mornings I find myself savoring Romans in ways I haven't been able to before. God-breathed words about His kindness and the inner workings of the Spirit are bringing praise to the surface of this weary soul.
—
Life moves us quickly from here to there and it's easy to skirt over things we don't want to come to terms with. We put off messes too difficult to talk about, hoping someone or something will show up unexpectedly to make everything better, until one day there is no more room to hide.
I shove my messes in a closet thinking, "I'll deal with this later." If you can't see the mess on the outside, there is a momentary sense of relief and deception of it no longer being there. Then one day, the inevitable happens. There is no longer space for shoving, hiding or sweeping under the rugs. Eventually what's hidden must come out and the messes must be dealt with accordingly. Most of the time, it's me. I am the mess.
We do the same thing with the words of God. You know the ones. The ones that make God seem angry, intolerant and harsh. It's easier for us to flip the page and go onto the next chapter, dismissing the hard words to another time and place thinking they no longer apply to us. We hide from the words that may bring out the messes of who we are.
Amazing Grace saved a wretch like me and yet sometimes I pretend to not be broken.
A hardened heart no longer feels the depths of what it's supposed to feel. Be it love, joy, pain or suffering, the hardened heart is indifferent, inoculated, maybe even medicated by avoidance. Romans 2 says a hardened heart stores up wrath and I wonder...with all this storing up we do with things we don't want to deal with, are we suppressing the kindness of God which sometimes looks like discipline?
God's kindness is intended to lead us to repentance. {Romans 2:4}
It is written... "the Lord disciplines those He loves" and even when it hurts and doesn't seem pleasant, later on we will see its benefits. Hebrews promises our discipline will produce a harvest of righteousness and peace. The hard things we deal with now, the yucky stuff we are going to stop shoving in our closets, the lessons learned in these times of discipline are not only for our own benefit but they will also do good for others.
Slowing down gives God a chance to deal with my chaos in my house and in my heart so I can really see how He loves me. Even though it may be uncomfortable in the process.
How has slowing down helped you process difficult words or circumstances?
By Suzie Lind, Hemmed In
:angel: :angel:
For When Your Floors are Tacky
Aug 17, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
Beyond ecstatic, I hung up the phone overcome with gratitude.
After seventeen years in our home, the home with five children (four teenagers), three dogs, and two cats tearing up the same worn carpet and ripped vinyl floors, one of my favorite flooring brands invited me into a partnership to replace those nasty things (the floors, not the kids.)
Sure, it was an absolute "want," not a "need," but since we're committed to paying cash for all our purchases, it felt like a hug from above that skyrocketed this superficial purchase housed at the bottom of our "To Do" list right to the top.
Told that they wanted our flooring done within two weeks, I spent the next few days pondering all the laminate and hard wood flooring choices. Wow, I had no idea there were so many options. How does one make such first-world decisions?
Dreams of sleek floors filled my thoughts. Thoughts that no longer included positioning furniture over nail polish spills, coffee stains and dog accident residual allowed the creative juices to flow.
I hosted a large gathering later that weekend, and as I shared my plans for new flooring, a close relative exclaimed her excitement, "I am just thrilled for you. You deserve it, plus these floors look so tacky now."
As the evening continued, my eyes gravitated toward those tacky floors.
Those tacky floors that welcomed guests from cities and countries around the world. Those tacky floors that invited children to wrestle and giggle and build forts. Those tacky floors that told stories of a life well spent.
It's been nearly one year now since that pivotal week. The week I spent dreaming about my new floors. That same week my old floors screamed "tacky."
Throughout this past year, not a month goes by that our ten-year-old daughter doesn't ask, "Do you think that company will ever follow through with their promise about our floors? They shouldn't break a promise like that."
"You're right. They shouldn't, honey, but it happens, and our floors are just fine."
"No mom, they are tacky. You know they are."
The last time she reminded me of this fact, I pulled her down on the sofa and began to reminisce.
"Do you see that stain? Remember when Lola got into the chocolate and we thought she might die? But she didn't. The Lord took care of your special puppy and that stain reminds us of that.
And the tears in the kitchen vinyl? You crawled for the first time in that spot and took your first steps right by that crack. Now you are ten years old and dropping cookie dough that you've made from scratch, all by yourself, on that same tacky floor.
This coffee spot? I smile every time I see it because women shared life together that evening. We cried and giggled and assured each other that we will make it through the exhausting days. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and it's a joy to welcome them into our home and remind them of that regularly.
Sweetie, I know you don't like these floors, and it's OK to think about buying new ones, but for now, I want you to love them and all that they symbolize. LIFE. Life to the fullest."
As we cuddled together reminiscing, contentment covered us. Our home life flows from God's abundance.
Yes, worn carpets stare back at us. Yes, ripped flooring is still a reality, but they are ours.
Our home, our memories, our reminder of God's faithfulness throughout a decade of uncertainty.
Sometimes, all we need is a perspective change and this time the Lord used a seemingly insignificant and superficial disappointment to remind us of His goodness.
Don't let this moment fool you. I'm still saving my pennies to replace those floors, but for now, I'm embracing each moment that we have left with them.
So, let's give three cheers for my tacky floors.
Floors where thousands of feet have walked during hundreds of gatherings. Floors that have celebrated new life and floors where mourners lay grieving from death too early. Floors that witnessed grace in action and floors that still hold secrets from foolish decisions. Floors that have shared Life – a life well spent.
Thank you, Lord, for my tacky floors.
They are messy, just like me, and there's something awfully beautiful in that.
Do you have your own "tacky floor" story?
Why don't you join me in the comments to celebrate our perspective change?
Shared by: Jen Schmidt, author behind Balancing Beauty and Bedlam and 10 Minute Dinners
:angel:
New Clothes For School: A Mommy's Prayer
Aug 19, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
My friend Babette is from Holland.
She didn't understand why her American mommy friends were getting their knickers in a twist last week.
I had brought over some strawberry pastries for us to enjoy in stealth while our boys played paper airplanes in their bedroom.
Babette was making shots of coffee for us with her Nespresso machine when she asked me. "So, what's the big deal about back to school clothes shopping? Why are parents all stressed out about buying new clothes and shoes to wear when school starts?"
"Didn't you wear new clothes on the first day of school when you were a little girl?" I asked, reminding her I only take decaf.
"School supplies, sure. But, not clothes. We don't have that practice in the Netherlands." She replied, passing a cup of warm decaf and sugar for me. "So why did you buy new clothes for TJ and CJ?"
This year, I wanted to save some money. So, I just got a few new outfits for the boys to wear the first week. Nothing major since the kids haven't outgrown their sizes.
Nobody's ever asked me this before. The funny thing is, I wasn't exactly sure why either. "I guess it's just what you do. You don't want your kid to feel left out."
"Yeah, but these are second grade boys. I don't think they care." It didn't make sense to Babette.
I started thinking. "It's about letting kids know school is important. It's a special occasion."
"Yeah, but it's seems more than that. Everybody's all stressed out about it." Babette wasn't convinced.
I thought some more. "Well, I guess I want to make a good impression for the teachers. I want them to them to know that TJ and CJ are loved and well taken care of."
"Maybe that's it," Babette says, as she joins me with her coffee at the table.
A Different Set of Clothes
Our conversation got me thinking.
I've got the the school supply lists checked off and their outfits laid out for the new school year. I've got the externals of getting ready lined up. Have I spent as much energy and thought focused on what's on their hearts and minds as well?
How can I clothe the heart and mind of my boys for the new school year?
How can I clothe my own mommy heart as I meet new children, moms, dads and teachers?
I reassure my kids everything will take time. All will be well. I'll pick them up and we'll have a yummy snack at home together.
But, inside, I can't help but worry. Will there be friends they can play with at recess or will they feel a little lost about what to do? Will they like their teachers? Will their teachers like them?
And how about me? I'm just recovering from post-traumatic-stress. I am not able to be very social. Meeting new people makes me feel anxious. I can't volunteer much right now either. Will other parents like me too?
As these concerns weighed on my mind, God brought to mind a different set of clothes — from this verse in Colossians 3:12 –
"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved,
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience...
And over all these virtues, put on love."
I was reminded to pray my Mommy Missional Prayer.
It's my heart's prayer for my sons, since I first began sending my children to attend public school.
I've always had a heart for missions, having once served vocationally in the mission field. Having returned to civilian life, I've always felt impassioned that who we are makes the mission, not where we go. People are God's mission field. Wherever they are.
So since becoming a mom, I've felt so honored and amazed at the opportunity to disciple two beautiful new hearts for Jesus — in hopes they will touch and bless others they meet at school.
A Mommy Missional Prayer
As I thought about how I can clothe their hearts and minds, I prayed my Mommy Missional Prayer.
"Lord, you sent the disciples out two by two into the world. I want to ask please bring one friend who can be your welcome for CJ and TJ at school this year."
I prayed also for my own heart.
"Give me your grace to listen when they come home. You know how I stress when they tell me their worries. I need your Holy Spirit to make my heart a place of safety and encouragement for my boys. Help me to love them like you, Jesus."
I am, after all, sending my children out into the world — not to be of it, but to be in it. Here in California, in the heart of Silicon Valley, there are people from every nation. The mission field is here at the doorsteps of our school.
"You are in CJ and TJ's hearts, Lord Jesus.
They are your little missionaries to love different friends they will meet.
I pray your light in them would shine bright.
Give them eyes to notice someone who they can be a friend to.
Give me wisdom to listen and support them.
May teachers and parents who come to know CJ and TJ see You –
through their kind and sweet spirits."
Then, I thought about myself. I can't do anything big. I'll be happy to pack lunches and get to them to school on time.
So I prayed, "Lord Jesus, you know I am weak and frail. But, if there is a new mom I can connect with — even just once — guide my heart to engage. Use me small. Use me gentle. Use me kind."
"The disciples came to Jesus asking, "Who gets the highest rank in God's kingdom?"
For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room,
"I'm telling you, unless you return to square one and start over like children,
you're not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in.
Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child,
will rank high in God's kingdom...'"
Matthew 18:1-10
The truth is, we are all little girls and boys deep inside. That's how Jesus calls us to live as parents. As His kids too.
We Are His Children
As we send our little ones to school this week, let's not forget we are His little children ourselves.
We don't have to have it all figured out. We don't have to war game it all out — trying to protect our children from all the hurt and possible disappointments in life.
We can't.
But, we can all run into the arms of Someone who knows all will be well. We can tell Him our troubles. Even if it gets complicated (because it can), Jesus wraps His embrace around us. He can connect the dots, when we can't.
He stands us with us in the middle of the school yard. As we shake and tremble in line with our boys and girls on the first day of school, straightening on our shirts and wondering if our hair looks okay.
Jesus reminds us –
I am with you. Even on the far side of the playground. Even in the back row of desks. Or the corner of the rug. I am always with you.
I will help you.
"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10
Even though we can't see our little ones at school — we can't be there to sit next to them at lunch — Jesus has his angels assigned to each of his children.
That includes you and me.
"And Jesus said, ....'Whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me...
You realize, don't you, that their personal angels
are constantly in touch with my Father in heaven?'" Matt 18:10
~~~~~
Let's pray for each other.
What is your prayer for your son or daughter for this school year?
What is your prayer for yourself as school begins? You are precious God's daughter too.
I know many of you are wonderful "aunties" and "big sisters" of friends' children — grandparents and teacher too. Please share your prayers too.
Are you a student yourself? We want to remember you as well.
Pull up a chair. Click to comment.
Photo by Kathy via flickr.
~~~~~
If you're on the journey of faith to walk out into the world, I'd love your company. Join me on my blog as we journey in community together. Let's keep speaking words of encouragement and friendship with each other in our faith stories — as it's being made and lived. As is.
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel: :angel:
Behind the Scenes with Red Letter Words!
Aug 19, 2013 01:05 am | Dee Kasberger
I was nervous. Really nervous. I was having lots of fun creating prints and playing around with different designs and giving them to friends and family members for birthdays and baby gifts. I was finding my style. Well, then said friends and family members liked my prints so much that they started to encourage me to put them for sale on Etsy. So my husband, Tim, and I had this conversation every day for at least 2 weeks..
Me: Do you think I should start an Etsy store?
Tim: Yes.
me: Really?
Tim: Yes.
I Can Do Everything Through Him Wall Art
I already knew the Lord had put the desire in my heart to have His Word in prominent places in our house. Now I felt He was leading me to put in out there in the world. After much hemming and hawwing around and generally dragging my feet (quite similar to the process of starting to tell my story on the blog) I did it with reservations. What if nobody liked what I had done? It was my whole heart out there. What if everybody liked it so much that I couldn't keep up with orders and everything fell apart and everybody was unhappy because mom was too busy and stressed out?
Because I am a wife and a mom and child of God and Red Letter Words was and is my hobby.
When my mind got to the point where it was quiet enough to hear what the Lord had to say about this, he reminded me of another desire I had in my heart which was to glorify Him with whatever spare time I was given. And I was reminded that He wasn't going to give me this desire and vision without providing the means to accomplish it.
Let Your Light Shine Pillow
So that fall of 2009 I was busy. Really busy.
And then someone contacted me through Etsy that changed everything.
It went like this:
Do you license your work? Do you want to license your work? I work for Demdaco.
Um, let me think...Yes, Yes, Yes! Yes I absolutely do want to license my work!
Many many phone calls and emails and brainstorming sessions later Urban Soul came onto the marketplace in January 2011.
One of the things I do every month is write down goals. Habakkuk 2:2 says to Write down the vision and make it plain on tablets so that he who reads it may run with it. Some of the goals are very specific, but others are super open ended like this one:
Do what I can to bring God's glory to lots and lots of people. I feel like this totally leaves the door wide open for God to come in and do what He will.
(Speaking of open doors, one door that was opened was The Heart Collection – a line of art prints and candles that feature quotes from Holley Gerth!)
The Day Had Come Wall Art
So all of this comes from a simple desire to have our favorite scriptures displayed boldly and prominently in our house.
What is your favorite scripture to display in your home?
By: Dee, Red Letter Words
This month only, use the coupon code: UrbanSoul25 to receive free shipping on your Urban Soul Purchase over $25! Click on over to shop around!
:angel: :angel:
The Tilt Of My Heart
Aug 20, 2013 01:10 am | Amy Smith
It was June 21st – the summer solstice. With my heels still deep in the thick of loss and a longing to put the pain of spring behind me, I had been waiting for this day – for the earth itself to proclaim summer's arrival, the start of a new season.
So, it just seemed wrong – that a day filled to the brim with the promise of a new beginning would bring a letter bearing the same old news. When I pulled the envelope from the mailbox, I was curious. It was not the usual self-addressed, stamped envelope I include with my manuscripts. This one was the publishing company's envelope. Did this mean what I hoped? As I breathlessly peeled it open and unfolded the letter, it was clear it did not.I took in the familiar words – "not quite right." My heart sank.
I've dreamed of being a children's writer since, well, childhood. I have notebooks full of stories and almost stories – full of misspellings, penciled words now faded, and all the unabashed hope of a little girl. I've also spent most of my life running from this dream. A high school English teacher once told me that I should be a lawyer or a writer. Ten years later, I chose the former. It just seemed safer. And I don't mean in the traditional ways, like financially or professionally – I mean emotionally. Pursuing a dream can be scary. My dream scared me so much that, after deciding to attend a college with a noted creative writing program, I dropped out of my creative writing class the first week of freshman year. I never took another one.
In the years that followed, I flirted with the dream, but never made a move. I always found a reason not to – I was too busy, too stressed, too depressed, too unsettled.
But there's something about dreams. I think God gave them wings. And they can catch us – no matter where, or how fast, we run. Last year, with my white flag of surrender waved high to the heavens, I started writing again. And I started submitting my work to children's magazines. And I started getting rejection letters. And they just. keep. coming.
Sometimes the dreams God tucks most deeply into our hearts take the longest to come true. Have you noticed this? And when our dreams aren't fulfilled as quickly as we'd like, it can be confusing, heartbreaking, faith shaking. It can make us feel like pulling away from them, and even Him. But if we do, then we miss the real purpose of dreams – of all things – that they bring us closer to our Father.
I flunked 9th grade Earth Science. It's true. I spent the summer of 1992 with a very patient tutor. But, I'm pretty good with Wikipedia. And here's what it says about the summer solstice:
"The summer solstice occurs when the tilt of a planet's semi-axis...is most inclined toward the star (sun) that it orbits."
I linger on this awhile. And I think about the One that I orbit. And I pray that the tilt of my heart will always be most inclined toward Him – whose love shines steady and bright over me in every season, no matter what the day brings.
:angel:
Speak Love
Aug 21, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
Last year, when the Girls of Grace tour asked me to be a speaker, they asked if I would be able to talk about the power of words.
Um. Yes.
I'm not sure science has proven this true, but I think I have said more words in my thirty-three years than any other person ever. (Right, like I said, no proof. I'm just guessing.) And Proverbs 10:19 likes to remind me often that people who talk a lot seem to sin a lot too.
Hmph. Rude.
But true.
So I knew I could handle getting up in front of a few thousand teenagers across the country and pleading with them to do it better than I have, to use their words well, not waste them or destroy with them, but to build with them.
Y'all. It was a dream come true.
But after two events, in the fall of 2012, I began to feel a little stir on my insides: God wanted more on this topic. We were on a mission, me and God, and I knew it. A mission to teach young women how to use their words.
So I wrote a 30-day devotional and gave it away at Girls of Grace events.
You know what I thought? I thought that was God's big dream. I thought that was the end of the story.
A few weeks later at our event in Grand Rapids, one of my Zondervan team members who was instrumental in getting Perfectly Unique on book shelves stopped me after my talk on words.
"That's your next book, Annie."
What. Huh. First of all, I GET a next book? The opportunity blew my mind. And secondly, WORDS? Wait. I thought God's story was done with the devotional. Apparently not.
A year later? Speak Love.
And it feels bigger than a book or a devotional or a talk on a stage.
It's time to change our culture and the way women use words.
I know. It seems big to say, "LET'S CHANGE OUR ENTIRE CULTURE!" but if I've learned anything in the last year, it's that God's dreams don't stop growing and it is way more fun to jump on board than to think the story is done.
And when it comes to talking about how we use our words? We can't do it enough.
You probably grew up knowing a mean girl. I did too, and you probably have been hurt by words. I have too. But you know what else? I bet you have hurt people with your words.
I have too.
But I'm ready to lead the charge to see that change. Will you join with me? Will you use your words to speak life, not death (Proverbs 12:18)?
What does that look like? It looks like holding your tongue when you want to unleash venom. It means sharing stories of hope and words of encouragement. It means writing and singing and calling and answering.
Speak Love released this week and it is with a bowed and humbled heart that I begin this next chapter of whatever God is writing. I would say that this book coming out is the end of the story, but I've learned better that to assume that again.
How have words affected you?
by Annie Downs
:angel:
10
Ways to be a Happier Mom
1. Life is not an emergency.
Life's a gift.
Just. Slow. Down.
2. Now is not a forever grace but amazing grace.
Do whatever it takes to wake to wonder right here.
3. Sometimes the slowest way is the fastest way to joy.
Make time today, even a moment, to read Scripture and memorize it.
Without the lens of His Word, the world warps.
{Slowest=fastest to joy}
4. Laughter is the cheapest, holiest medicine.
Preschoolers laugh 300 times a day. Aim for double that. Tickle someone, (yourself!), if necessary. This is good!
5. Motherhood is a hallowed place because children aren't commonplace.
Co-laboring over the sculpting of souls is a sacred vocation, a humbling privilege.
Never forget.
6. Homemaking is about making a home, not about making perfection.
A perfect home is an authentic, creative, animated space where Peace and Christ and Beauty are embraced.
{Perfect does not equate to immaculate.}
7. A pail with a pinhole loses as much as the pail pushed right over.
A minute dawdled here, a minute scrolling here — they can add up to your life. Write down your intentions for the day and prayerfully live the intentions and spend your life well by paying attention to the moments — which pays thanks to God.
A whole life can be lost in minutes wasted, small moments missed.
8. Believe it: I have all I need for today.
The needs of our day are great but our God is greater and we call Him Providence because we believe: He is the One who always provides.
{And when God provides, He should be praised, and if God always provides, shouldn't praise always be on the lips?}
9. Slow. Children at play.
The hurry hurts the kids.
Time's this priceless currency and only the slow spend it wise enough to be rich.
If we had to actually buy our time, would we spend it more wisely — spend it more slowly?
{God's Word never says Hurry Up. God words only whisper: Wake Up.}
10. Love is patient.
Parenting's this gentle way of bending over in humility to help the scraped child up because we intimately know it takes a lifetime to learn how to walk with Him.
Patience. Love always begins with patience and patience is a willingness to suffer.
Bonus:
The art of really celebrating life isn't about getting it right — but about receiving Grace.
The sinners and the sick, the broken, the discouraged, the wounded and burdened — we are the ones who get to celebrate grace!
Regardless of the mess of your life, if Christ is Lord of your life, than we are the celebrants out dancing in a wild rain of grace — because when it's all done and finished, all is well and Christ already said it was finished.
Q4U: What is your plan to be a happier mom (happier person!) this fall? Let's be a community and resource to cheer each other on to happier living (parenting!) this fall! Jump into the comments with Just. One. Thing. you are going to do toward happier living:
Will you join in the conversation here? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)
By Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience
:angel: :angel:
Why You Need To Climb...
Aug 22, 2013 01:10 am | Jennifer Kostick
I don't know what it is. I cannot really put my finger on it. Why does it seem that the closer I get to reaching my goals the more inadequate I feel? These feelings are becoming an uphill battle and the climb becomes steeper and steeper with each new day.
However, if there is anything I've learned, anything at all, it's that the stronger the battle rages the more I can be sure I'm doing the right thing. And do you know what? I'm willing to bet it is the same for you.
Giving up and giving in is not an option. It isn't for me and it can't be for you. You have gifts and a community of supporters who are waiting to watch you climb that steep hill, defeat those giants, and reach the apex. Oh yes, even if you don't feel it, you are loved. Your heart and life are beautiful. Your soul was designed for His delight.
Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Therefore let us, as many as are mature, have this mind; and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal even this to you. Nevertheless, to the degree that we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us be of the same mind. Philippians 3:12-16 (NKJV)
"Let us walk by the same rule." Yes! "Let us be of the same mind." Yes! "... reach forward to those things which are ahead. "Yes, Yes and YES!"
You don't have to be a writer to identify. Whatever gift God has given you is priceless. He wants you to use it to give Him glory. When I feel like giving up He says, "Keep going." And today, I want to convey the same to you.
Keep going, sisters! Keep fighting to climb the steep mountains that you are facing. God is a God of love. He loves you enough to have blessed you with more gifts and talents to pursue than you could have ever thought possible. So climb. Hold on tight to Him and climb with all you have. Climb for His glory. Climb for His grace. Climb for all of us who are waiting to see what God will do through you.
You can...
You will...
You must climb.
By Jennifer Kostick, aGirlontheDoorstep
:angel:
Getting Nudged Out of My Comfort Zone
Aug 23, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver
I have this cat, Peanut. And she's really sweet and affectionate and gentle with children. But she is also just about the most annoying thing on the planet.
She talks a lot, but that's not really the problem. In a house full of big talkers, I can hardly complain about that. (And just so you know, I'm not a completely crazy cat lady. My cat does not, in fact, talk like a human. But she sure chatters and squeaks and meows . . . pretty much every minute she's awake.)
The thing that drives me up the wall about Peanut is that she is stubborn. Or lazy. Or both – I'm not really sure where the issue stems from, and I don't have time for kitty therapy. All I know is that when I try to make her move – off my spot on the couch, off the dining room chairs at dinner time, off my leg when I'm trying to sleep at night - she refuses.
I know! She's a cat! How can she refuse to do what I tell her? [Yes, friends, this is indeed sarcasm, because even cat lovers know that the feline species pretty much does whatever it wants to do, end of story, amen.]
I might not be crazy, but I do really like cats – especially my own. So when I want Peanut to move, I'm gentle. I nudge her with my foot or pat her nicely on the back. When she won't even deign to open more than one eye at my request, however, I move onto more urgent communication.
Still, nothing moves that cat. In fact, when I attempt to do so, she often raises her head and yells at me. "MROWWWW!" she shouts, indignantly, as if I'm severely inconveniencing her by WANTING TO SIT ON MY OWN COUCH.
Obviously I'm the human and she's the cat, and eventually she's forced to move. But she makes sure – every single time – to let me know how Very Unhappy she is about it.
It's annoying. And . . . it's a lot how I behave when God asks me to move.
Get up early to read my Bible?
But, God, it's just so hard!
Reach out to that person who makes me feel uncomfortable?
But God! It's so awkward! And I don't like being awkward!
Apply for that job? Quit that job? Start that project? Move to that city? Stay here?
But, but, but . . . GOD! Do I HAVE to? It's so HARD!
Try this new thing? Go to a new place? Talk to a new person?
Oh, I don't know. I like how things are now. It's comfy here, easy even. No, thanks...
It doesn't really matter what God asks of me. From small changes to big risks, my first instinct is to dig my claws into the couch and stay put, so to speak. Change is hard, and my comfort zone is soft and safe. So when He asks me to follow, my immediate response isn't always one of obedience.
Nope, I can be as stubborn – and, let's be honest, as lazy – as my cat.
Of course this metaphor only goes so far. Because right now God is asking me to move, sure, but He's also asking me to stay put in some situations – situations where I'd much rather run, move, change, go. See, our comfort zone isn't always defined by a lack of movement. Sometimes it's the other way around.
But no matter what feels safest to me in any given situation, my calling – to follow Him, to trust Him, to obey Him – is more important than my comfort.
And so when God begins nudging me, gently because He loves me, I do my best to keep my scaredy cat instincts in check. But I also tell Him how I feel. I'm pretty sure He can handle it. So those conversations are [slowly] starting to look a little different:
Get up early to read my Bible?
Oh, man, that's hard. But...okay. I'll set my alarm for 30 minutes earlier. Help me find the energy to get up when it goes off?
Reach out to that person who makes me feel uncomfortable?
Her? The one I had that awkward conversation with? Um...all right...I'll start with an email...today.
Apply for that job? Quit that job? Start that project? Move to that city? Stay here?
Wow. Really? REALLY? Okay. I trust you. Help me trust you...
Try this new thing? Go to a new place? Talk to a new person?
Whew, I don't know. I was just settling in here. What's my first step? Will you help me?
I'm trying to listen right away and move – or stay – the way He's asking. It's not easy, and sometimes I still act like my grumpy, stubborn cat. But hopefully this way I can move WITH God...instead of making Him resort to pushing me off my proverbial couch. (After all, I might have something in common with my cat, but I'm not sure about always landing on my feet!)
Have you ever struggled to respond to God's nudging? Do you have a hard time leaving your comfort zone when God calls?
By Mary Carver, a work in progress who's Giving Up on Perfect
:angel:
What it Means to Take Heart, Part 2
Aug 24, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
Read Part 1 of What it Means to Take Heart, but only if you promise to come back. Here, I'll sit and wait for you.
I'm on a bench at the park. The shadow around me is a tree, and I have a notebook. There's a bush just here where bees kiss sweet white buds all over. It smells like sugar and autumn, sounds like buzz of bee, bird, and weed-eater. Women have actually gathered below me here to hula hoop together. I'm laughing. Some days afford us the sun, a breeze, just enough quiet then a phone call, invitations to enjoy and be enjoyed. Yet as I get older, I know more and more of the crumpled-heart, those who never get a fill, who labor with no fruit, the ones betrayed and bowled over.
I awoke a few weeks ago as from a dream, and almost with my eyes I could see how deep I had fallen into the hopelessness that comes with the trouble of this world. Before that day, I hadn't been able to see around in the dark, all the teeth threatening. This was the pit, maybe, except it was in my kitchen and my minivan.
In John 16, right after the passage of the coming Holy Spirit and then how our sorrow will turn into JOY, Jesus says to his disciples in verse 33: "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world."
In part 1 of these thoughts, I asked what it means to "take heart," because the truth is that I missed the mark this summer, and I never want to go through that kind of sorrow and confusion again. So if Jesus Christ Himself told us that in this world we would have trouble, then we better believe it's coming, but He says to take heart because He has overcome the world. Take heart, as if there's a choice here to suffer in a way that overcomes. Take heart, because if we don't take it, we lose it. We are either overcomers with Christ, or we are overcome with despair.
Now this is exactly the point where I would like to bold bullet point some step-by step instructions, but I have none. There has only been one hard, beautiful truth that has wrapped around and roped me up from the dark, and when I type it, to the untrained ear, it will sound like the worst of news, but to me, it is salvation.
I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ lives in me.
Christ lives in me. Try to wrap your brain around that one, huh? But friends, when I first believed, my life had been such a mess that it was easier then for me to see myself as dead, like my ghost had left me and Jesus had entered my skin to move me about. I knew I had been rewritten. So when He moved me into unknown territory, I was warrior courageous because I knew it was He who moved me and who overcame.
"Take heart" has also been translated as "be of good cheer," which sounds to me like "just be happy," so I had to get out my 50 pound concordance, and wouldn't you know it that the word in Greek means something so much stronger than that? "Take heart" means to have courage. The root of the word means to exercise bold and confident courage! Of course the world around us is an unfair mess of circumstances. It's the sick world. But inside me lives Jesus, and He is before all this, He is indeed after, and I am in Him, Ancient of Days.
Sometimes the question is simply about whether or not I believe that I am in Him and He in me. This summer I wasn't sure of the answer to that question because I had denied the power of God living in me, shrinking under the fear of something terrifying that He's asked me to do. I wish I had believed that He would do it all along. I wish I weren't so weak, but in that very weakness, He reminded me of my death, that day I first believed, the first day of my life.
It's a funny thing how suffering has led me so many times straight into His arms, into an honest way of peace. The pit of my bed was the weak place from which I could renounce the lies and shout that HE LIVES IN ME. Imagine my dry bones standing up.
So this is me coming to you as a minister of the gospel, confessing that I have struggled with doubt and disobedience and a terribly broken heart, and I am begging your ears.
Take heart, sisters. I believe it's true that He lives in you. All these little deaths we die are straight avenues into His arms. Don't miss it. Take heart. It's a stone-real fact that the character of Jesus Christ indwells you. Every kind of courage and peace and triumph is in Him, and He has overcome the world.
Do you believe it?
How would you live differently if Jesus Christ really did indwell you?
:angel:
When Seemingly Worse is Better Than Sameness
Aug 26, 2013 01:20 am | The Nester
I'm writing this post completely for myself. So that in a month, a year and heaven forbid, two years, I can remember....
My husband and I just bought a fixer-upper. Every room has 25-year-old decor complete with floral or lighthouse wallpaper borders and dark green paint. Every room is pleading with me to put it first on the list of making it lovely.
We gutted the kitchen and now I have no stove but I do have crooked nails and wires hanging from an open ceiling.
The boy's bathroom has a pink sink and almost but not quite matching tub and toilet, also from the pink family.
The pool is sparkling blue one day and mud colored the next as we figure out the best levels for the chemicals as they mix with our well water.
We have no internet and our hopes of a decent, high-speed connection are fading fast. The internet is kind of my job, by the way, which helps pay our mortgage.
We have to switch our cell phone carrier and get new phones, our boys are starting a new school today, and the dog is itching something fierce.
We also spent our hard-earned money on the World's Worst Barn. And I punctured the end of my big toe with a nail. Insert Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day comment here – almost.
There are definitely moments of completely suffocating overwhelm of the "what in the world have we done, we are idiots" variety. But I can't actually get myself to feel that way for very long.
Because through all the junk in our lives, the Lord has used the circumstances of where we live to teach us, to guide us, to get our attention. I trust He'll do the same through this home.
I simply cannot bring myself to be too distressed about the hot mess that is our new home because we hoped and prayed for years for this next adventure. We've lived in four different rentals in the past six years while paying off debt and looked so forward to the next house we bought. And in those moments where I secretly long for high-speed internet and that free garlic in Egypt, I'm reminded that the path to that free garlic was slavery.
And for us, we hoped for this very house, with all its quirks, all summer. For us, not owning this place would have meant staying where we were. And we were so over that.
I'm not saying I won't have my days. Just the opposite. I know I will. I'm sure I'll shed a few tears and yell at my husband and be short with my kids and curse the lack of water pressure all in the name of fixing up a house. Mark my words.
But ultimately, I hope I remember what a wonderful gift this house is and what a joy and honor it is to get to gut the kitchen and have nails and wires hanging and have the means to find a great deal on a secondhand dream stove and to have a pool even though it looks like diarrhea.
Amen.
:angel:
Missing Out
Aug 27, 2013 01:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
I praise the Lord with one hand holding my daughter, embracing all that comes with being a new mom, and with the other I grasp for more.
The more I can't hold or handle right now.
Somewhere a weed of discontent has started to grow in the dirt of my soul.
The battle is raging . . . for my peace and to darken the glow of possessing a long-awaited miracle.
I find myself checking Facebook to see what "they" are doing, wondering why I can't get my act together.
I wonder why that cool friend of mine who just became a mom seems to know a secret I don't.
I wonder if I'll ever feel pretty again like "those people" on TV.
I wonder how "those women" are so much more creative than I.
{Nothing to complain about here but extreme tired, a closet full of pre-pregnancy clothes that don't fit and saggy boobs. {Yep, I just wrote boobs on (in)courage.} It's true. Taking a shower is a miracle with a baby. And talking to yourself is purely educational for her development, not because I get lonely in the afternoons.}
I'm loving every moment with my three-month-old daughter. I stare at her sweet face and have to pinch myself that this is real. She's finally here.
But whether you're a new mom like me, frustrated in a not-so-ideal job, dealing with a health issue, waiting on a dream to come true or just on Pinterest too often comparing your home or your kid's birthday with someone else's glossy image, you know what it feels like to miss out.
Or at least to believe you're missing out.
I'm here to tell you it's a lie. The entire concept of missing out.
You're not missing out. No ma'am. It just feels that way.
You're probably like me and think if you utilize more of your down time, become a better communicator, stay up later, have closer friendships, be a killer multitasker or get your creative juices finally flowing . . . then you'll feel better, more a part of what's happening.
"Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus." 1 Thess 5:16-18
The truth is you're right where you're supposed to be. Doing exactly what God had planned before the seas were parted from the land.
You have a purpose in your situation. You're not missing out.
You would miss out on the good plan God has for your life if you were anywhere else, doing something "more important" or trying to be special.
You would miss out on God Himself.
I would rather think I'm missing out at times than miss Him.
Join me in choosing contentment and allow God to draw near to you, right where He's placed you.
:angel: :angel:
Don't You Know Who I Am?
Aug 27, 2013 01:10 am | Kacey Bess
After a couple days of attending the women's conference at our church, my hubby asked how it was going. For sure, there had been awesome moments of praise and worship and an outpouring of great messages, but somehow I felt disconnected from what everyone else seemed to be experiencing around me. You would think it'd be a time of great refreshing and recharging, but somehow I felt empty.
It made no sense, but the best I could come up with is that the conference had a different vibe. When he pressed further, I sputtered out something about it being too trendy. I could tell he was confused by this odd description, and certainly I was too.
That is, until I came across this post on the blog, Black and Married with Kids.
It all began to make sense.
Less than.
There hadn't been anything wrong with the conference. The problem was the tiny voice permeating throughout my head telling me I was less than all the other women at the conference.
It told me I didn't measure up to the ladies walking through the parking lot with their perfect hair and makeup. Or the ones sliding in the pews looking fresh off the pages of In Style magazine. And even the ones standing on the platform with their commanding knowledge of God's Word and superhero-like faith.
I couldn't connect to what was happening during the services because I was so distracted by appearances–how fabulous everyone else seemed–that I'd forgotten who I was.
When we feel the lie named "less than" creeping its way inside our head, these are the moments when we need to stand up straight, puff up our chest and shoot back with diva-like attitude–Don't you know who I am?
I am created in God's own image; in His image he created me. (Genesis 1:27)
I am fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalms 139:14)
I am filled with all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:19)
I am the temple of God and His spirit dwells in me. (I Corinthians 3:16)
I am from God and greater is He who is in me than he who is in the world. (I John 4:4)
I am God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that I would walk in them. (Ephesians 2:10)
I am complete in Christ. (Colossians 2:10)
I am a child of God. (John 1:12)
I am a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession. (I Peter 2:9)
I am saved and called with a holy calling by God. (2 Timothy 1:9)
I am one of God's chosen. (Ephesians 1:4)
This is who I am. This is who you are.
Far too often, we give the devil free reign over our thinking. We naively fall for the lies. It's likely that the only reason that sly fool is messing with you in the first place is because he's seen your future and knows what he's up against.
Since the women's conference, I've had a chance to rewatch many of the conference sessions, and can I tell you what an amazing word I almost missed – lessons on retraining our thoughts, the power of rest and flourishing in our purpose. Good words that have rallied me to pursue my dreams even harder.
Rather than letting feelings of insignificance beat us down, we must use God's Word to boldly declare to the enemy (and perhaps even ourselves) who we really are. I assure you, it's a far cry from less than.
By Kacey Bess, Next Level Mama
:angel:
On Transformation in the Everyday
Aug 28, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne Segerman
I want to share this story with you, about how God literally transformed me while we were working on a monthly budget, but I don't want to talk about money. Can you grab a glass of something cold (or a mug of something warm, depending on your weather) and sit with me awhile? Because this post isn't about money.
So let me get really real for a minute. We have never been really great with money, as our problem was twofold: not enough income and never learned about finances properly. And because of that first reason (not enough income – and by not enough I mean more than most in the world, but for our family size and our location, we are extremely tight each month), we never really thought there was any point to the second reason: learning about money.
But I had slowly been feeling this nudge by God to do something more about the second reason. To learn more about handling finances and really, to just do a budget already. It was never a condemnation, as if God was angry with me or I was disobeying by not having taken these financial steps before, but more that he was just saying "it's time."
I think in the past I decided that doing a budget would be scary (spoiler alert: It WAS scary, but only at first). I convinced myself there was no point in budgeting when we lived in a time of financial scarcity as a family. I couldn't have been more wrong.
So, we did it, we set up time with a financial counselor to do a budget for September and learn a lot of other things too. Logically I was doing fine. I was looking forward to this appointment, because I felt like we'd see a) that we had been doing pretty well in our decisions; and b) that our money just needed a little organization and it would stretch a bit further.
But emotionally I had become really resistant by the time our appointment arrived. I could feel myself wishing I could cancel, or otherwise shrink into a hole in the ground. I wanted to escape, but I did it anyway.
Then as we sat down and began, I started to feel like I might burst into tears. I told my husband and the counselor what was going on, because for some reason I felt it important to give them a play-by-play. Five or ten minutes later, I told them I felt like I was going to throw up. I wasn't upset or thinking about anything negative in relation to the money stuff; I just was having this weird physical reaction to what I was doing. Naturally they thought I was just stressed out, but I knew it wasn't stress.
Suddenly I felt like it was very important for us to stop and pray. Why I hadn't thought of praying before this financial appointment, I don't know, but I learned my lesson for sure. We stopped and grabbed hands and I prayed things I hadn't had on my mind at all (I love it when that happens).
I prayed that I would be free from any shame of financial failure of the past. I prayed that I would know how God saw me, as whole and beautiful and free, and that these steps were going to be wonderful for our family. I prayed I would ignore any lies of the enemy telling me we couldn't stick to this budget, or that we would never get out of the situation we had been in for so long.
My husband prayed as well, and when we were done I felt like a huge weight had been lifted. All my physical symptoms were gone. I felt healed, body and spirit. We continued on with our appointment and it went fine and we are excited (as much as you can be) to begin the new budget next week.
Since that day I've felt a lightness in my spirit that can only be described as the transformative work of Jesus. How he heals with surrender, the way I was surrendering during my prayer. How he heals with obedience, the way I agreed to the appointment and showed up for it. And I know the obedience and surrender were only possible by the Holy Spirit within me in the first place, because when I got involved, I got scared and wanted to escape.
I love when the Lord uses the practical things of life to heal little corners of our heart that we maybe thought were "fine", or that we thought because of mistakes of the past were just a burden we had to bear. God doesn't want us to do any of that heavy lifting. He asks us, gently, to let him have it all.
What areas of your life have you felt transformed in lately? How has God's spirit been working on your every day life, in healing your heart?
Or maybe you feel like it's time to have God work on your heart in this way? I would love to hear your stories!
:angel:
A Woman Just Knows
Aug 29, 2013 02:30 am | Angela Nazworth
I have two kids, and like most children, they say some pretty cute things. Sometimes, their phrases are unintentionally comedic. Like the time when my son was three and handed my husband a naked Barbie doll and innocently said, "Daddy, here's a naked girl for you!"
And there are also times when their choice of words leave me pondering deeper truths. Like when my daughter exclaimed that there was no need for her to try squash because ... "A woman just knows what she wants and what isn't for her."
At first, I laughed off her comment, but then I realized that she wasn't 100 percent wrong in her assertion. Nor was her assertion 100 percent right.
Sometimes I just know something is wrong for me. For instance, I've never set my hair on fire, but I know it's not something I want to try. When I was younger, I wanted to get my belly button pierced, but since I have this thing against unnecessary pain, I knew that a naval piercing wasn't for me.
I also know that many people consider chocolate-drenched grasshoppers a delicacy. I'll pass. If I want some crunch to my chocolate, a small pack of Pretzel M&M's will do just fine.
Sometimes the situation is less obvious, like when I have the opportunity to use sarcasm as a tool to subtly attack someone. Or when I am tempted to tell a "little white lie" to get myself out of a jam or a potential embarrassing situation. In those situations it isn't so much a gut feeling as it is a lesson already learned . . . but still I can recognize the early warning signs.
Sometimes a woman just knows when something is wrong. And then there are times when a woman knows what she wants, but doesn't quite understand what she needs.
My daughter's body needs the vitamins and minerals that accompany each bite of a fresh vegetable. So one could argue that she needed the squash. But she didn't want it. She didn't want to look at it. She didn't want to smell it. She didn't want to get it near her mouth. And she sure as sugar is sweet did not want to eat it. She's a girl who knows what she wants...and by default, what she doesn't want.
However, had she given the squash a chance, she may have found out that she truly liked it. Eating squash may have become a want of hers.
As I think about this simple example of typical kid-ness, some self observations jump to mind. As a strong-willed woman, I often know what I want. At least, I think I do. But when I take the time to examine my wants closely, I discover that they don't always line up with my needs.
In fact, some of my wants conflict with each other.
I want a healthy body. I want to eat whatever I want to eat whenever I want to eat it. Conflict.
I want my marriage to thrive. I want my own way. Conflict.
I want a clean and organized home. I want someone else to be responsible for the cleaning and organizing. Conflict.
I'm learning, at a rate that is both slow and sure, that in order for me to choose the right want, I must first understand what it is that I truly need.
When everything else is stripped away, one need remains at the core . . . one need fulfills all others.
More Jesus.
I am a woman who needs more of Jesus and less of herself. I need to be close to Him . . . know His character . . . His word.
I need to be more like Jesus . . . more patient, loving, discerning, bold.
And when I embrace that need it grows into a soul-deep want . . . into a must-have.
What do you want most in this world, and does your want conflict with a need or is it inspired by one?
The LORD is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The LORD protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the LORD has been good to you." Psalm 116:5-7 (NIV)
:angel:
Rush To Judgment
Aug 29, 2013 01:10 am | Kathy Cheek
Following a blowout that one of our daughters had on her way back to college a few years ago, we were parked at a gas station unloading Mary's trunk to retrieve the spare tire. We were three hours from home and still three hours from our destination with Randy and me in our car and our two daughters in Mary's car.
Mary's trunk was filled with back to college items, which she and her sister Amy were helping their father stack on the pavement. I was preparing to help also when someone appeared out of nowhere as I stepped out of our car. A stranger with dirty, stringy, greasy hair and a wild look in his eyes that instantly made me uneasy asked if he could help, and I promptly replied that my husband was putting the spare tire on the car and we didn't need any help. I was thinking to myself, I hope he accepts this answer and walks away. He basically gave me the creeps.
Just as I said we didn't need any help, Randy told me he couldn't get the last lug nut off, and he had tried with every wrench in his toolbox.
Aaron, or should I say, Crazy Aaron as the girls dubbed him, piped up, "I'm a mechanic. I can help you. There's an auto parts store down the road, and I can take you there to get the right tool." Randy agreed and jumped into a beat-up old pickup truck with Crazy Aaron and headed to the store.
They came back a little later and Crazy Aaron popped that last lug nut off with the new tool. Randy whispered to me, "He drives like a psychopath! I'm glad we're back!" Aaron proceeded to put the spare tire on; he seemed eager to help.
Randy pulled me aside to softly tell me that Aaron had shared that he had recently lost his job. Randy told me he wanted to pay him generously for helping us. I had cash in my purse and Randy took out more than I would have guessed Aaron's help was worth. But God had already convicted Randy to give him above and beyond what seemed the appropriate amount.
Aaron with the stringy, greasy, dirty hair and wild look had tears in his eyes and his voice trembled when he saw how much money Randy was giving him. He said to us, "You have no idea what you have done for me today! Thank you so much!"
I felt about an inch tall. My rush to judgment now had me swimming in shame. I apologized to him for brushing him off so quickly when he first arrived on the scene.
And what was he doing on the scene? He had run out of gas and was able to coast to the same gas station where we pulled into after the blowout. He had to call his dad and pleaded for money to put gas in his truck. His dad had just arrived and gave him twenty dollars and told him, "there wasn't going to be any more where that came from."
Then, Aaron turned around and saw us and came over to help.
I still think about that day and wonder, did God send Aaron to help us, or us to help Aaron? The answer is both. God crossed our paths to help each other and to meet our needs – and He also taught me not to make quick assumptions about people.
You know, when Aaron smiled, he didn't look so scary anymore. He left us with a smile that day as he drove off in his pickup truck, driving a little reckless if you ask me.
We all smiled too, as he drove away, absorbing the events that had transpired that hot August afternoon. God had been very good to all of us, even Crazy Aaron.
And my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19
If I am not the only one who has ever made a rush to judgment about a person, will you share your story and tell us how/what God taught you through that experience? Maybe we can learn from each other...
By Kathy at In Quiet Places
:angel: :angel:
Parenting, Pop Stars and Prodigals
Aug 31, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him coming.
Filled with love and compassion, he ran to his son, embraced him, and kissed him.
~ Luke 15:20b NLT
For as long as I can remember, I've butchered song lyrics.
In Manfred Mann's Earth Band's Blinded by the Light, I thought it was "wrapped up like a douche another runner in the night" instead of "revved up like a Deuce..." (which still didn't make much sense to me); in 10cc's I'm Not In Love, I heard "requesting quiet" for "big boys don't cry."
My worst offense involved an old camp song called Violent Love, a story best told in context.
Sweet and innocent, these days of my youth. Blissful ignorance.
In every generation, there are performers who press buttons and drop jaws; those who make both young fans and their parents roar (but for opposing reasons). What one loves, the other hates.
For my parents, it was Elvis, who, when he finally appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show, was filmed mostly above the waist; apparently, his hips couldn't lie.
For me, it was Madonna. Like a Virgin and Papa Don't Preach–she pushed the edge as far as you could go.
Until I realized the edge is boundless.
A new Queen of Shock was recently crowned; whether or not you saw her performance on the VMAs, you've likely heard about it. Wagging her tongue and her tail, Miley Cyrus has everyone talking.
Just five years ago the former Hannah Montana star declared "There's only three guys that I love right now, and that's Jesus, my brothers, and my dad." The young woman I wrote about then is tucked inside a train wreck.
First instinct is to judge her. I've seen accusing fingers pointing at her parents, too. But the loveliest written response I've seen is courtesy of Annie Downs in her post How do we help Miley?
Speak love.
Speaking love is powerful; it's how Antoinette Tuff, an elementary school bookkeeper, talked a man who entered her school with 500 rounds of ammunition into peacefully giving up.
An ordinary mama diffusing a human time bomb with patience and kind words.
* * *
Thanks to wise counsel from others I respected, I avoided a "One Size Fits All" approach in parenting, learning that each of my children would require something different of me. Of course we set standards in our home, but to approach very different personalities without consideration of our children's differences would be an exercise in frustration, a set-up for failure.
One of motherhood's secrets, something I hadn't anticipated in advance, was that the convictions I held at one point in time wouldn't apply in all seasons, for all time.
Early on, it never occurred to me that the choices I made when my children were in grade school didn't make as much sense when they were in middle school, and definitely not by high school. To have remained rigid and resolute would have chipped away at my credibility. It would have made me seem out of touch and inflexible.
I chose my mountains carefully and prayerfully.
* * *
If you haven't learned this yet, you will: Good kids "do."
Good kids will make bad choices. Cheating on tests, lying, shoplifting, drinking, sexual activity, gossip, drugs–a thousand ways to disrespect themselves or others.
When this happens, everyone is best served if you can find a way to the heart of your child.
Which is much harder than it sounds.
I recently suspected something was up with one of my children. While it wasn't as public or disturbing as Miley's behavior, what I didn't want – what could have easily happened – was a) for my child to shut down; b) for a great wall to be built between us; c) to set up being lied to.
No matter what it might feel like sometimes, your children do not want to disappoint you.
Do you realize they would rather tell you want you want to hear than disappoint you? Sometimes it's to avoid punishment, but mostly they'd rather lie than hurt you.
Sometimes the consequence (to you) of imposing stiff consequences (to your children) yields an even costlier consequence to both....
I begged God for favor and truth to be revealed in our situation. With humility, love and grace, I explained my concerns and that I feared a, b and c above. With all sincerity I extended the assurance I could better live with the ugly truth than pretty lies.
What resulted was a beautiful, honest conversation, and as it turned out, the truth wasn't nearly as bad as the conjurings of my wild imagination. Still, had this occurred when my child was younger, there would have been a punishment (at least for the deception); but wisdom and experience informed my conviction and I realized the better choice was to listen, love and allow freedom of discussion. Only in that freedom was the way paved for truth to be shared.
* * *
Our culture fights the way of Christ; I'm sure you've encountered countless ways you have to battle this within your home. Choices and decisions exist today that were unheard of when we were younger (regardless of when you were younger). And it's why I'm especially thankful for this well-known encouragement ~
Train up a child in the way he should go,
Even when he is old he will not depart from it.
~ Proverbs 22:6 NASB
If you have a child who's wandering, whose heart concerns you, whose state of soul terrifies you, don't despair. As long as there's breath, there's life and reason to hope.
Let go of your hurt, your right to be right. Let it go. It doesn't change your child and it certainly doesn't help you.
While his/her choices have disappointed you, he/she is not a disappointment.
While he/she might have repeatedly failed at meeting your expectations or honoring your wishes, he/she is not a failure.
Come to terms with the above in your own mind so everything in you communicates these things to your child.
Make a refuge for your prodigal to return, a space where love thrives without condition.
Resist the urge to condemn and pass judgement, whether it be toward your children, other parents and their children...or even pop stars.
Instead, meditate on 1 Corinthians 13 to remember love's breadth and depth; then speak it with your words and actions.
Would you take a minute to share specifically what this means to you?
–
Shared in love by Robin Dance, who, when most of you read this will be cheering her beloved Clemson Tigers on to hopeful victory over the Georgia Bulldogs (in other words, please forgive me if I don't respond quickly–college football will be holding me hostage!).
:angel:
So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God,
for whoever has entered God's rest
has also rested from his works as God did from his.
Let us therefore strive to enter that rest,
so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience.
Hebrews 4:9-11 ESV
As we wind down from one season before diving into the next, we pray that you have a moment (or more!) of rest this Labor Day weekend.
Love,
Your friends at (in)courage
:angel:
Friendship: Here We Go Again
Sep 02, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Strong
From my spot on the gray and white front porch, I never heard them coming until the driver tapped his car horn. My eyes bounced from my laptop to the white car driving by, and I immediately recognized the two friends inside. I sprang up, hooked one arm around my laptop just in time to save it from tumbling to the ground. I pumped my other arm so hard waving I nearly took flight right off the porch.
When the car rounded the corner out of sight, my tears came out of nowhere.
What is your problem? I scolded myself. So now passing cars make you cry?
I plopped down on the wrought iron bench and shook my head. I knew exactly what my problem was. Once again, I found myself in a season of changing friendships, and it took a mad wave at friends in a passing car to make me realize just how long I've gone without solid, in-person girlfriend time.
When we moved to Colorado Springs in the summer of 2010, we reveled in a family first: built-in community. From the moment our feet hit the high desert ground, we delighted in military friends and other family friends who hitched their horses here, too. Unlike our usual circumstances where we began friendships from scratch, we found ourselves knee-deep in quality relationships that all but fell from the sky onto our doorstep.
But a few months ago, one of those friends went back to work full time in a demanding job. Soon after, two other friends moved away. Other changes came as well. And just like that, my built-in community up and left the building, and it feels like our family moved again even though we haven't gone anywhere.
Now, when it comes to goodbyes and making new friends, this ain't my first rodeo. I am adjusting to the change faster than in the old days, but that doesn't mean the season of without or waiting isn't hard.
I mull this over as I peck keys at my favorite café when two girls my age sit down at the table next to me. They are laughing and sharing in equal amounts, painting a picture of friendship worthy of an art gallery. The one closest to me has a kind face, and when she mentions having an 8th grader, I smile and say to myself,
Me too! Me too!
I would love to ask her where she lives, where her kids go to school, and oh, by the way, could she use an extra friend? But it isn't quite that easy.
On the other hand, prayer is easy. So over my blended honey vanilla chai, I whisper,
"Whomever I'm meant to be friends with, Lord, please just work it out."
As the words of my prayer soar upwards, I trust He catches them.
You can trust He catches yours, too.
If you find yourself in a season of waiting on friends, please know this: God values your life so much, He gave it a higher priority than that of His own Son. You can rest assured that every component of your life – including your friendship needs – is tucked inside His care.
Yes, I could be in a season of waiting on friends because He wants my attention elsewhere. But God is a God of follow through and finishes, and I am learning to live in each friendship season with hope-filled contentment.
"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!"
1 Corinthians 13:12 The Message
It would be a little dramatic and a lot of fun if I could tell you that kind woman from the coffee shop showed up at the park or the PTO and we became fast friends. She hasn't, but He has. The view is muddled and I can't see how this friendship season is going to work out. But in my heart, I hold undeniable signs of God's care today woven with His faithful promises of tomorrow.
And one day it will all come together, an unimaginably beautiful picture of friendship.
Do you have a picture of friendship worthy of an art gallery or are you in a season of changing friendships (or maybe both)? What are you learning when friends seem far away?
Kristen Strong, hopes high at Chasing Blue Skies
:angel: :angel:
Say Goodbye To The Mean Girl
Sep 02, 2013 01:10 am | Annie Downs
About a year ago, I was a speaker on the Girls of Grace tour, talking with thousands of teens each weekend about the power of words. One morning, back at my Nashville home, I was getting ready and just thinking/praying through all that was going on at our events. And I saw this sentence run across my mind like a news ticker in Times Square.
What if we killed the mean girl?
I immediately began to argue with that news ticker.
It's not possible.
She's everywhere.
There's a movie about her.
We all know her.
But then I felt like it was less of a random question and more of an invitation.
God was inviting me to step into what He was already doing – rescuing teen girls from the words of others and calling them into something new.
A few months later, the idea of Speak Love was born and as I began to write the book, I realized this was more than an invitation – it was an opportunity to have a front row seat to the show of our lifetime.
The mean girl is going to be a memory. I know, I know, it seems impossible. I get that. In moments, I think it feels that way too.
But then I remember that oceans part when G0d says and dead people breathe again when Jesus speaks and I remember that nothing is impossible to God and He's the one doing this anyways.
And I'm excited to be a part of what God is doing in the next generation. What an honor we have as adults to help lead this army of young women who are ready to use their words to speak life. God is calling us to teach the younger women a different way to use their words. He's inviting us to be a part of a massive culture shift where unkind words won't be welcome and speaking love, deserved or not, will be the norm.
(I think that's why this post about Miley Cyrus exploded on my blog – because people are tired of the pressure to be unkind and are looking for Christians to say the different thing.)
Speak Love is a manual to walk young women through this new way of using words in how they talk to God, to others, and to themselves.
And so, it's with much excitement, a little fear and trembling, and total awe that our God invites us into His work, that I say goodbye to the mean girl.
I hope you will, too.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Giving Yourself Grace
Sep 05, 2013 01:10 am | Vanessa
My life is probably a lot like yours. Busy. Full. A bit crazy and hectic, with so many things vying for your attention. On most days, I handle it all pretty well.
And then on others I feel myself buckling under the immense weight of self-induced guilt. The whispered thoughts attack me from all sides.
Your daughter's baby book is waiting to be finished, and you haven't even ordered recent pictures.
You aren't keeping a clean enough home. Just look at all that clutter piled up. You'd have more counter space if you just cleaned.
You've fed your son buttered noodles and broccoli for five nights in a row!
Your yard isn't going to plant itself. How can you stand to have a lawn of dying weeds among all these lush landscapes of your neighbors?
I try desperately to ignore this inner voice, this whisper that points out my shortcomings and failures. I try and I fail. I allow the guilt to shove me to the ground where I feel desperate and alone, wondering how I'll ever manage to stand back up. I call out from the wreckage, and my friends, dear sisters in Christ, send me these lovely words:
Give Yourself Grace
These words often bring me some peace, but what do they mean? How does this work?
This seems all well and good, this premise that we free ourselves from our guilt, that we tell ourselves "It's okay!" But the more I prayed on these words, the more I felt a nagging voice urging me to look further and dig deeper.
What's wrong with giving ourselves grace? The answer is nothing...as long as your heart is first open to the full grace in Christ.
"Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance...cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate." – Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Cost of Discipleship
If we are to be freed from our self-induced guilt, we must first turn to Him, repent of our sins that have gotten us into this mess to begin with, those sins known and unknown. Let the Holy Spirit open your heart to receive his mercy and pardon, and accept His grace fully and joyfully.
The thing is, we don't have the power to truly pardon ourselves. When we attempt to skip a step and go straight to self-grace, we cheapen it. When we attempt to give ourselves grace, we abuse it. We misuse it. We distort it until it's no longer grace, but an excuse. The grace we show ourselves is earthly, weak, and incapable of providing the redemption we need, even for the smallest of sins.
Truly giving yourself grace isn't about giving yourself anything. It's about being open to His grace and fully accepting it, not just for the big hurdles, but for the tiny every day stumbles.
All the glory is His alone, and all true grace comes from Him alone.
:angel:
How the Boring Stuff Matters
Sep 06, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
When I first arrived in Turkey many moons ago to live our family's new life, I was the mother of a two-year-old. A few months later, I became pregnant with our second-born. Two years later, I became pregnant again, miscarried; then six weeks later, got pregnant one last time with our third-born. Most of the years we lived abroad, I was either parenting a toddler, dealing with the bodily unexpected times of pregnancy, nursing a newborn, or some combination of it all.
Of course, that's not why we moved 6,000 miles from our home turf; to change diapers and worship the porcelain god. But that's what I ended up spending quite a bit of my time doing. I'd meet my tutor at a tea house several days a week to learn the language, I shopped at the local markets, I'd walk to the nearby park to practice language with locals while the kids played, and I got to know our neighbors—but otherwise, my life was at home, doing pretty much the same mundane stuff I was doing as a new mother in the States.
I found it odd that God brought me all the way to the other side of the world to, well, raise little kids and manage a home.
In fact, I found it more than a little odd. There were many days when I was frustrated at my supposed time-wasting, emotionally exhausted from feeling unused, and quite honestly, a bit bored from it all. At least living everyday life in my own culture meant access to English television and coffee with old friends. What on earth was I doing with my days?
"If God has come in the flesh, and if God keeps coming to us in our fleshly existence, then all of life is shot through with meaning. Earth is crammed with heaven, and heaven (when we finally get there) will be crammed with Earth. Nothing wasted. Nothing lost. Nothing secular. Nothing absurd.... All are grist for the mill of a down-to-earth spirituality." -Paul Stevens, Down-to-Earth Spirituality: Encountering God in the Ordinary, Boring Stuff of Life
About a year into our life in Turkey, a fellow American friend confided this in me: "I've become so frustrated at my lack of usefulness here that I wonder if God brought me all this way not to use me, but for me to better know Him." Our lives' daily liturgy, when focused on how grandiose, or useful, or even productive they might be, can become the bastion of frustration when we end our days not having accomplished much more than the humdrum of life.
{Photo by Tsh}
My friend's comment changed my perspective for the remainder of our time abroad, because it reminded me that no matter where I am or what roles I've been given, the point of my life is not usefulness, but in knowing God and enjoying Him forever.
This realization is nothing short of revolutionary. Tasks like laundry, nose wiping, errand running, and job clocking stop becoming a burden, and start becoming ingredients for our spirituality—a real one, where we relish in the fact that we are God's and God is ours, regardless of our usefulness. Even when we're given "big" tasks, like living cross-culturally or serving in leadership, these roles become less of a pressure to perform and more of an assignment to better know Him when we acknowledge that all of life, big and small, is crammed with heaven.
We are His children, and just as we don't love our own children because of how useful they are to us, neither does God's love for us depend on how productive we are in our days. He is passionately wild about us, even when the majority of our waking hours are spent in the everydayness of it all.
{Photo by Ann Voskamp}
At the end of our life, we won't be able to look back and remember most of the hours of our days, but we'll remember what those hours produced. My hopeful goal is intimacy with God, knowing Him as a true Father and friend. Don't fret or curse your mundane tasks. They're grist for the mill of a down-to-earth spirituality.
by Tsh Oxenreider
:angel:
God is No Respecter of Persons
Sep 07, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
I learned a life lesson in the first grade. Social status impressed my teacher, Mrs. Smith: if your dad was Somebody, she preferred you. Six years old may be young, but children are incredibly perceptive.
I was not preferred.
Later something interesting happened. My dad sang and played the guitar and periodically appeared on the John Chick Show, a live morning program featuring country music on KTUL TV out of Tulsa, Oklahoma.
I wanted to see my daddy on TV, so my mother sent a note to say I would miss school that day. When Mrs. Smith discovered the reason for my planned absence, she told me to come to school and our class would watch the program together.
Smart man that he is, my daddy dedicated a song—I think it was Puff the Magic Dragon, a childhood favorite—to Mrs. Smith's first grade class.
Not surprisingly, my daddy became a Somebody and I rose in Mrs. Smith's estimation.
Although I recognized what happened, I didn't like this ranking game: my tender heart rebelled against it. It still does.
{Do you see me? I'm the solemn blonde on the far right of the middle row.}
When we moved to Georgia as young newlyweds I didn't know who was supposed to be important and who wasn't and I liked it that way. I don't want to judge or be judged by a subtle system that ranks our value as people.
And then the internet changed everything.
I discovered that scores of women like me exist, women who chose motherhood or career or both, but share a passion for words. We peck our keyboards during nap times; moments snatched on busy afternoons or in coffee shops; and those precious, sacred hours late at night or in the wee small hours of the morning when our households sleep.
For many, it's a ministry: our vehicle to proclaim the message of the One who holds our hand while we cling to those entrusted to us, who sustains us when we're sleep deprived and broken. Who gives us hope.
I remember that initial excitement, seven years ago, finding other women online who shared joys and struggles similar to mine within their own families.
But then corporate America discovered us. And the publishing industry. And the ranking game began again, just like in Mrs. Smith's first grade class.
This system is more subtle and rarely happens face-to-face. It might look like missed opportunities, sponsorships denied, sweet deals handed to the next blogger instead of you.
But sometimes it looks like paths paved by the work of our sisters, who've shown brands that consumers trust our voices, and publishers that women need them.
A million criteria exist to rank and pit us against each other—and as much as we resist, you and I will use every one of them—but thankfully God shows no such favoritism.
Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons:
But in every nation he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.
~Acts 10:34-35
God views us as equals, cleansed by the blood of His son. Our merit is in Him, not the work of our hands.
If you've been given an online platform—a blog, a Facebook account, membership in an email group or online community—use it to elevate Him and let Him determine the opportunities it will produce.
But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.
~Matthew 6:33
Does online community sometimes make you feel like you're back in school, competing for rank and attention? How can we keep perspective, stay encouraged, and glorify Him?
{Download your September desktop calendar here.}
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
Close to the Broken-Hearted
Sep 09, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
When I was pregnant with my first baby almost 12 years ago we joyfully announced it to our friends and among our church family. I remember one Sunday as I walked through the halls at church I stopped one of my girlfriends on her way to the children's classrooms.
"Did you hear? We're expecting!" I was so excited. First baby, first morning sickness, first everything. She stopped and chatted and she, who'd already borne a few babies herself, shared some of her wisdom.
I told her that I was working, how I was feeling and what I was nervous about. In the course of the conversation, to allay a pregnant mother's fear of something, she waved her hand down and said, "Pshaw. People get pregnant and have babies every day; you'll be fine."
She didn't mean any ill, and perhaps it was the progesterone coursing through my veins or maybe one of her kids needed her in the children's church. Or maybe it was because God hadn't taught me radical grace yet, but I almost reeled in horror.
I thought, yes, people get pregnant every day but I don't get pregnant every day. How dare she reduce one of the biggest occurrences of my life to one that happens "all the time" to "everyone?" Isn't my experience special?
My grandmother is dying right now. And by the time these words go to post, that might even be inaccurate. I might be scanning Travelocity for plane tickets for a funeral.
Last Thursday after my mother had called me and said the word "hospice," I drove myself to the store and found myself weeping on the way. And I cursed myself because my grief surprised me. She's my grandmother, not my child or my sister or even my own mother or father. She's special to me and holds my history in her gnarled hands, but there is some distance, both geographically and emotionally.
Yet I wept.
And I began, mile by mile, to give myself the permission to grieve a death that is imminent but not yet occurred. I began to give myself the permission to recognize that grief, however small or big, is absolutely real and right to the person experiencing it.
Just visit a care facility: we age, our bodies and our minds break down, and we die. It happens every day. The pragmatic part of my heart tells me not to grieve from my core because this was always going to happen. The pragmatic part of my heart says that it's okay because things like this happen every day.
But it's happening to me. And it's happening to us. And to her.
And it really hurts.
And because of that it is special and close to the heart of God. Jesus tells us that not a sparrow falls that He is unaware of. And that He is close to the broken-hearted. He is even close to broken hearts that break when we don't want them to and hearts that break over griefs that may seem minor to the rest of the world.
So if you're a girl like me who somehow along the way hasn't given herself the permission to grieve even the small things, know that God grieves with you.
Or if you're a girl who grieves big and hard at both the minor and major things of life, know that your heart is precious to God.
And if you're a girl who is broken-hearted today whether or not you chose this or it chose you, please know that broken-heartedness is where we feel most drawn to Him.
Births and deaths happen every day, but the one that is in front of you right now is the most important in the universe to the God that created all of us.
Rest well in that and give yourself the permission to feel all that your heart has been created to feel.
:angel: :angel:
Secure in an Uncertain Future (and Book Giveaway)
Sep 09, 2013 01:10 am | Stasi Eldredge
I was 22 years old when my father told me that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. We thought he was clear, done, finished. The CAT scans had told us the cancer had been defeated by the rigors of chemotherapy and radiation. I had shared the good report with my praying Bible study group to cheers.
But it was back. And there would be no reprieve this time. At the unwelcome news, I was no longer 22 years old but 6, and I crawled onto my father's lap and told him I was scared. He confessed to me that he was scared, too.
An unknown future. A fight for more years all but lost. What would this crossing over from this life to full LIFE entail? Many of you know. I will just say here that it was a painful, trying, grace filled five months that followed my father's confession. Yes, I will tell you that. I will also tell you that his last mumbled but well understood words to me were, "I love you."
Holy words that I treasure in my memory and in my heart.
I face an uncertain future today. I am 54 years old and though I am not facing cancer ravaging one I love, I do not know what awaits me beyond the moments of this very one I am living in. I am 54 years old, but I still feel at times 22 and yes, even 6. Change is on the wind and change always feels like loss. I want to climb up on my Daddy's lap and confess my fears.
So, in my spirit, in prayer, I do just that. Maybe you have a father who is still alive – in whom you are safe to confide your emotions. Maybe you don't. But whether you have one whom you can see and feel and trust, or like me, you do not, we all have a good and trustworthy Father waiting. Understanding. Caring. His arms are open to us, even his lap is open to us and though we do not know what is coming, He does. Though I am often uncertain or afraid, He never is.
I'm climbing up there for a while today. And I'm not climbing down. Not until I'm good and ready but when I am...I will still be held throughout every moment of this day and the unknown that is coming. I am held for the rest of my life. And so are you.
——————-
Stasi Eldredge is a wife, mom, women's ministry director, author and speaker who loves sharing the goodness of God with women. After becoming a Christian in college, Stasi joined Youth for Christ, heading up a ministry to pregnant teenagers and teen mothers. She's been active in ministry ever since, including theatre ministry, crisis pregnancy center ministry, women's ministry, and children's ministry.
Stasi loves the joy and freedom that comes from knowing the passionate, stunning love of Jesus Christ and lives to see others come to know him more deeply. She is co-author, with her husband John, of the bestselling book, Captivating, and the author of Becoming Myself: Embracing God's Dream of You. Connect with Stasi at RansomedHeart.com.
Today we're excited to give away five copies of Stasi's book, Becoming Myself: Embracing God's Dream of You.
Becoming Myself is a hope-filled book for anyone who wonders if her life will ever change—if she will ever change. In Stasi Eldredge's most intimate book yet, she shares her own struggles with self-worth, weight, and her past as she shows readers how God is faithfully unveiling who we truly are.
What do you do when life is uncertain? Share your answer in a comment to be entered to win a copy of Becoming Myself.
:angel: :angel:
Blessed Spaces
Feeling Guilty?
Sep 10, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst
I gathered the restaurant bags, sighed, and crammed them into the overstuffed trash can. A friend had sent me a recipe that day that involved peeling and chopping and simmering. I imagined her trash can full of fresh veggie peelings and other things that proved her kitchen produced way more homemade goodness than mine.
And a little thread of guilt wrapped around my heart.
Sometimes I feel more guilty for what I'm not than thankful for what I am.
But there was sweet grace waiting for me in a little yogurt shop that night. My daughter had asked if I would come and speak to a Bible study she was helping organize. "Mom, I think there are going to be a lot of people that show up."
So, instead of cooking that night I ordered out. Again. And drove to the yogurt shop with the girl whose heart was full of excitement and expectation.
People were everywhere. Young people. Invited people. And parents. Nearly 200 people packed inside the yogurt shop and overflowed outside. My daughter smiled.
I took the microphone and spoke from my heart. I told my story. I taught truth. I invited the people to let Jesus be the Lord of their hearts.
And many who had never done so said yes to God that night. A teen girl who had tried to commit suicide last year. She stood to accept Jesus. A young man with tears in his eyes. He stood to accept Jesus. A mom and a dad. They stood to accept Jesus. Along with many others.
In the yogurt shop.
With a woman whose trash can was filled with take-out bags.
A woman who isn't the greatest cook. But a woman who wants to learn to be more thankful for what I am than guilty for what I'm not.
Maybe you are the friend with the veggie peelings in the trash can and steaming homemade goodness on the table.
Celebrate that.
Or maybe you are like me. And your gifts are less tasty.
Celebrate that.
And cut the threads of guilt with the edge of grace.
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel: :angel:
Sep 10, 2013 01:10 am | Lora Armendariz
I hated waiting. I glanced out the window for the millionth time in the last half-hour and groaned. Where is he?
To this day my worst pet-peeve is waiting for people to show up to dinner. My mind will angrily scramble about with dozens of reasons for frustration whenever I'm forced to delay serving dinner. Dinner will get cold. Things won't taste the same. I'm hungry. Don't they understand how much work it is to get dinner on the table? It's so very rude not to show up on time.
Tonight was no different. My husband had to go out to another ranch to get some work done so I knew he would be late, but I was still angry about waiting.
I paced about, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I could watch TV, but I just wasn't in the mood. Perhaps a book? No, I was too agitated to sit still for that. A movie? Absolutely not! The moment I got fifteen minutes in my husband would no doubt show up and want me to rewind.
Going over to window again, I pulled the curtains out of the way and peered outside, willing the headlights to appear in the driveway. Nothing. I sighed. Somewhere in the back bedroom I heard the baby turn over in her crib, making a soft rustling sound. The house was quiet and still. I felt alone.
The heater next to the TV was on and I went over and floated my hands over the warm air. God, what am I supposed to do right now? My mind quickly answered before I even tried to listen to His response. Well, Lora, you know where your to-do list is...
God? What do I do with myself?
I closed my eyes and recognized that pull, that distinct draw from the Holy Spirit, communicating something from my Heavenly Father.
Spend some time with Me.
It came upon me in a wave of understanding. I hopped between tasks like a mad kangaroo each day, anxious to complete a million chores and accomplish a dozen goals. I didn't ignore God. After all, I had my daily devotional that I studiously pulled out with my coffee. I opened my Bible every Sunday, too. And I shot out prayers like popcorn all throughout my waking hours.
But when did I just sit down and chat with God? Not just pray, but also to listen?
I let out a breath and let the world fall to the background. I let my frustrated thoughts about dinner fade away and I spent some real time with the most important Man of my life. In those blessed minutes He filled me with peace and His grace, and I was reminded of how loved I am by Him. When the sound of the front door brought me back to reality, I acknowledged it with a peaceful smile. I could almost see God smiling back and saying, "Lora, I'm always here, you know."
And He is always there, waiting and willing us to turn to him in those quiet moments so we will hear his voice. It might be a few seconds as I wait in line at the bank or watch the microwave spin a plate during its cycle. But why look at those moments as wasted time when we could be letting God fill up those blessed spaces.
Dear, Lord, help me find those spaces you blessedly leave unfilled so I can spend some time with you.
by Lora Armendariz, Everyday Miracles
:angel: :angel: :angel:
He Remembers
Sep 11, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver
We gathered at the farm, bringing baseball gloves and brownies, walking slow to the edge of the pond and watching the lines and lures swim back and forth. We talked about things unimportant, quiet things and loud things, full of memories and teasing.
We all knew why we were there, though none of us mentioned it out loud. On the weekend of what would have been his 38th birthday, my brother-in-law's presence was strong even a year, more really, after his death. Moving fish from one pond to another, roasting hot dogs over the fire, digging into casseroles fresh from the oven and Pinterest, and smack talking our next round of poker would've suited him just fine, I think.
But his dad must have felt differently. At one point he said, abruptly, "Yesterday was his birthday, you know."
Yes, we knew. We remembered. It's why we were there. But for my father-in-law it wasn't enough. He loves having a full house, but it seemed he needed us to say, out loud, why his house was full that weekend in particular.
Everyone grieves differently.
Some of us grieve long, while others grieve shorter but harder perhaps. Some of us grieve every morning when our feet hit the floor, and some of us grieve in those moments when the memories hit us in the gut. Some of us grieve poetic and peaceful, and some of us grieve ugly and angry.
As I've said before, death and grief and everything that comes with it – in one way or another, to one person or another, it's all inappropriate in some ways.
I think of all the ways I've grieved "wrong."
I think of laughing over memories and inside jokes with my cousins during my granny's visitation, much to my mother-in-law's dismay. I think of screaming at my mom when she suggested one.more.time. that I get busy and cook some food after my friend's car accident.
I remember joining my family at a birthday party the day after I lost my job, where I never sat down. I walked, numb and ignoring my family, from one room to the next, picking up empty plates and refilling glasses, afraid to stop, afraid to think, afraid to look anyone in the eye.
I think of the way I returned to my home church the very Sunday after leaving the one we'd help plant, the one that broke our hearts. I think about how I didn't stop to take a breath, perhaps partly because I was afraid it would hurt too much to breathe. I think about how we all break differently.
And I remember earlier this spring, when I told a friend about our plans to go to the farm on the anniversary of my brother-in-law's death. She couldn't understand why we were choosing to commemorate this sad anniversary, why the date was so indelibly marked in our memories.
Sure, she'd lost people. She'd grieved. But she did it differently – and without mentally circling days on the calendar in black permanent marker.
Some of us remember quietly; some of us are a bit louder. Some of us remember every date of every sorrow every time it comes around; some of us mark time not by days but by how much less it hurts this year than the one before.
And it's okay. It's all okay. We all hurt in different ways, and we all remember in different ways. And what makes sense to me might be a mystery to you. But that's okay.
Because, see, no matter how we choose to remember the painful events that shape us, God remembers right along with us.
He remembers when it happened and how you felt and why you cried. He remembers in the quiet of the evening and when you see the date on your phone and when someone mentions her name. He remembers when you walk to his grave and when you drive down that street and when the flags dip low.
He remembers.
Today our nation remembers, and many of us still grieve. No matter how your heart beats today – broken or healed or somewhere in between – take comfort in knowing that He remembers. He is close to the brokenhearted.
Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. . . Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.
~ John 16:20, 22
Join us in praying for those remembering sorrows new and old today. Join us in praying for our nation, our sisters, our own hearts as we remember.
:angel:
What I Learned From A Circus Performer
Sep 12, 2013 01:10 am | Kara
The whole world watched in wonder and fearful amazement as we collectively held our breath and silently breathed a prayer for high wire artist Nik Wallenda this summer. Glued to the TV, I sat in my living room and was drawn into the unfolding events of his live performance, sure that I would be witnessing his death.
"Who dares to walk across the Grand Canyon on a tight rope," I skeptically wondered.
I soon found out only someone who trains well, dreams big, and walks with Jesus. And when the evening was over, I was forever impacted by this circus performer and knew I would never forget what he taught me.
Family matters. Without the physical and emotional support of his family, Nik could not have lived his dreams. A father, a wife, an uncle, a grandfather. A whole circus ring of precious family and dear people who truly provided the safety net needed to keep going. I ask myself, "Does my family know I'm in their ring? Do they know I am their safety net?
Am I a safe person emotionally for my children, my husband, my circle of friends and family? Do I let fear rule the day or can I trust God with my children and their dreams, no matter how big or small, safe or dangerous?"
With each step, say "Thank you, Jesus." Life is not easy. Walking across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope is no walk in the park, either. Some days walking by faith and not by sight is not so difficult, but other days it seems just as good to throw in the towel and give up. As Nik took each delicate, perilous step, he simply said, "Thank you, Jesus." Each step. Step after step after step. As he slowly crossed the canyon, it seemed that he genuinely knew each step was a gift of God.
And somehow I was impacted by his walk as I walk this journey of faith, too. With so many difficult and unknown steps ahead of me, I want gratitude to well up in my heart much like Nik's. I want to simply say, "Thank you, Jesus." When the steps are easy, but especially when the steps are hard.
Dream big. Some dreams seem big. Others seem small. Most of my dreams, quite honestly, seem scary because I'm simply afraid of failing. And if I'm honest, I'm also afraid of what others might think and letting a few people down. Frankly, some of my dreams feel like the equivalent of walking across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope.
But after witnessing Nik's life performance to a watching world, I am daring myself to grow courage and dream big again. To use the gift and talents and passions that God has uniquely given me. Not to my husband or to my parents or to my neighbor or to my dearest friends, but to me, Kara Butte, child of God.
I used to love going to the circus as a child and wonder about life as a circus performer. But then I grew up and got all practical and serious and perhaps somewhat stuffy about what it means to be a responsible adult. Watching a humble high wire artist live his dreams this summer encourages me to have child-like faith once again to unleash the artist in me. To value the community of people around me, to thank Jesus each step of the way, and to dream wild, wonderful, fearless dreams for the kingdom of God.
And this time, I might really want to run off to join the circus after all.
by Kara Butte, {circus dreamer} of His Story to Tell
:angel:
Finally.
Sep 14, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs
I've been struggling with the word FINALLY lately.
A friend of mine, still single in her 40s, got engaged recently, and as you can imagine, Facebook exploded into a million pieces of pure happy. It was very sweet to watch everyone rejoice with her as she has found a really good dude who loves her well.
But one comment rubbed me the wrong way.
"So glad this FINALLY happened for you!" a well-meaning friend wrote.
And for weeks, I've tried to figure out why I bristled at that. What was it that bothered me about that exclamatory sentence? It was kind, full of excitement, genuine, and...
FINALLY.
When something FINALLY happens, it is like everything up to that point was just waiting, surviving, and watching for any sign that change is here to rescue the situation.
You know who deserved to feel a FINALLY? The Israelites in the desert. But you know why they FINALLY-ed? Because they were wandering. They were lost.
Just because I'm single doesn't mean I'm wandering, waiting to find the Promised Land of milk and honey(moon).
When you say FINALLY, I picture crawling into the Promised Land, parched and sunburnt, with tears rolling down my face at the final relief of it all.
Sorry, but that's not my reality.
My life is very full and fun and even on the bad days (and there are bad days), I'm not in a desert. I'm living. I'm working. I'm playing. I'm laughing. I'm cooking. I'm crying. I'm alive.
I am not lost because I am single. I do not need to be rescued from this life. Yes, I totally want a husband to walk this life with me and partner in the things that God is doing, but I don't need to be saved from the desert.
This life? It actually may be the Promised Land.
So when the right dude comes into my life and he can put up with my crazy and decides to stick around, I hope we all celebrate, just like we celebrated my friend and we will celebrate for you, singlet. We can cheer and throw a party and thank God for answering prayers.
But don't say FINALLY. I may be single, but I am not wandering. I am not lost. I am complete and on the right path and I have not been abandoned.
And the same is true for you.
By Annie Downs
:angel:
Autumn Reflections: (in) Classics
Sep 15, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
For everything there is a season,
a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-2
Can you feel it? Whether you're pulling out sweatshirts this weekend or still running your air conditioner at full blast, autumn is undeniably drawing closer. Kids are in school, football games are in play, and stores are full of apple and pumpkin everything. Fall is {almost} here!
As we stand on the edge of another seasonal transition, let's take a moment to reflect on the seasons of our lives and our landscapes at the same time we stop to appreciate God's own unchanging, wonderful nature.
——————–
The New You: Why Kindergarten Isn't Just for Kids by Bonnie Gray
But sometimes we still reach for a watermelon in October or a carton of strawberries near Thanksgiving and they don't taste quite the same as they did in the height of summer.
We look back now on kindergarten and life seems simple. But, to a five year old, his world just got a lot bigger. His awareness of his need for friendship and acceptance is growing with each new challenge.
And so, this is true for you and me. Each of us is standing at our individual doors of kindergarten in faith. No matter how long we've walked with Jesus, we all encounter new seasons of change.
Four Ways to Make the Most of Your Season by Sarah Markley
It's easy to recognize the fruits of the season: pumpkins, pumpkin bread and homemade pumpkin spice lattes dominate Pinterest right now. They are the fruits of an autumn in full swing.
Give Thanks Pumpkin Tutorial by Jennifer
Autumn can be the beginning of a busy season. And a busy season may bring with it stress and worry and the whole, 'things aren't going as planned' feeling. I think that makes autumn a perfect time to get my thinking and focus on the right track. It is the perfect time to put a little reminder out into our home for the season.
8 Tips for Getting Your Home Ready for Fall by Melissa Michaels
Even though decorating is my passion, I try not to over-complicate my decor by getting too fussy or over the top with the changes in seasons. I enjoy getting my home ready for friends, fall parties and church groups, but I can't spend too much time fussing over things or I won't have much time left over for guests!
Fall is Falling by Lisa Leonard
Can't you just hear the leaves crunching and smell the cinnamon rolls?
Finding Beauty in the Mundane by Dawn Camp
Fallen leaves crackle and crunch beneath my feet as the beauty of God's creation is revealed anew in the change of season.
——————–
For more seasonal posts, check out the "Seasonal" tab on the front page of the (in)courage site, as well as in the sidebar of the blog!
What are you reflecting on this fall?
:angel:
When It's Time To Leave Safety And Choose
Sep 16, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
She is beautiful, cute and young.
She is going to wash my hair.
And later, she will blow it dry, make it smooth and long, so that it curls just slightly at the ends.
She will take a roller brush and do magic with it, like the wand Cinderella's fairy godmother circled in the air with pixie dust.
I'm getting my hair done. And to everyone around me, I'm just another woman enjoying some me-time at the hair salon.
But, I'm really just a broken, healing little girl inside, learning to take steps out into the world — to walk her out and give her a voice.
I'm learning not to hide. I'm learning to leave the way I've always done things, to discover new ways of connecting with people.
I'm learning to choose.
Not to melt into the background. To stop saying I'm okay. Even when I'm not.
I'm learning to dare — to trust there is beauty in being cracked open — and letting others see, too.
As she lowers my head back into the sink, she cradles my neck.
Do You Know What I Mean?
"So what do you do?" she asks, as she squirts a few pumps of summer-smelling shampoo into my hair.
I want to tell her what I always say. I'm a stay-at-home mom. I take care of the kids.
Instead, I tell her what I'm just beginning to dare speak into the open air, even though there's a voice that whispers: Imposter.
"I'm a writer. I like to write." There. I said it. My heart starts racing.
"Oh..." her eyes grow wide and curious. "What are you writing about?"
Oh, no. Now, I did it. I didn't want to say. Maybe I should say something generic. I closed my eyes against the spray of the warm rinse of water.
"Well, it depends on what's happening. I write stories about what I'm going through." I take a deep breath. And I let it out into the open. "I'm writing about anxiety. Childhood trauma. About making choices. To feed your soul and care for yourself. I'm learning to find my voice."
"Oh, wow. Really?" She replied. I couldn't tell if she was really interested, or was it her polite way of signaling this conversation was getting too personal.
I decide to test the waters some more.
"Yeah... You know it's easier to blend into the background. To make everyone else happy, so you don't have to afraid of what happens if they're not." She was quiet and my eyes were still closed. So, I stopped talking. Oops. That was TMI. I thought.
As her fingers worked conditioner through my hair, massaging my scalp, she asked, "What do you mean?"
"It seemed like nothing I chose was right. It could be something small — like when I used to go shopping and I liked a certain outfit, my mom would say, 'How cheap.' She had a way of turning something that looked shiny to me one moment into something wrong and ugly."
I took a breath, my chest tightening. "Do you know what I mean?"
"Yes. I do." She replied as she propped me up and tucked a towel on my head, like origami.
Everyone Has To Leave
Later, as this fresh-faced twenty-something gorgeous girl spritzed my hair and began to expertly run the hair dryer over my frizzy strands, she began to tell me her story.
She grew up with a loving momma and daddy who always encouraged her to be true to who she was. But, she lived a different story with a man who did not love and cherish her as she ought to have been.
"It's funny how I had to learn to choose to take care of my soul, later in life, even though I grew up as a happy child."
Then, she said the wisest thing that flew the doors of the little girl in me open. She said, "I guess everyone has to learn to leave something or someone at sometime. Everyone has to learn to choose."
I started to cry as strands of wet hair dabbled over the smock on my shoulders. "You're right. I am learning to leave."
These weren't just tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. I realized I wasn't so alone in the world. That my journey through pain and rebuilding from scratch is a journey we all have to make at one point. Over and again. Through the many seasons of life.
I felt connected to this girl and she felt connected to me. We laughed and got teary eyed, and it felt like we were far away and close at the same time.
It reminded me of Jesus.
Choosing You
The night He gathered with the disciples before He had to make the final trek of leaving. Leaving His friends, His mother, the people He came to love, His favorite spots along the hills, seeing the sun set and hearing stories of people He'd met and healed.
He knew He had to face the cross — where He would ultimately leave the Father's embrace and where for the first time, He'd split open with heartbreak — because everyone He ever met his whole life would leave Him when He needed them most.
Jesus did it. He left everything.
So that He can be with you and me.
So that we don't have to be alone.
Jesus chooses you.
And me.
You Can Step Out
I don't know what journey you are on today, friend.
You may be like me, learning to leave for the first time inside your heart, even though what has happened was many miles of years ago.
You might be like my new friend. You've had a wonderful, beautiful journey in the years behind you. And yet, you may have stumbled on a fork in the road, unexpected.
You have to choose. To leave safety. To find your voice.
To find that little girl in you again. And to take care of her. And let her walk out into the world.
You are not alone.
Even if it feels that way.
Because Jesus sees you. Understands you. Loves you. Accepts you.
You and I can step out.
He chooses you.
As is.
"I chose you...
From far across the earth
I brought you here...
I haven't forgotten you."
Don't be afraid. I am with you.
Don't tremble with fear.
I am your God.
I will make you strong,
as I protect you with my arm...I am holding your hand
so don't be afraid.
I am here to help you."
~Isaiah 43:8-10, 13
~~~~~
How is God calling you on a journey to choose?
How is leaving part of that journey?
Pull up a chair. Click to comment. I'd love to hear from you. You know how much I am grateful for you.
~~~~~
I'm learning to take my first steps out into the big, wide world — with my heart wide open. If you're walking on the journey of faith out into the world too, I would love to get to know you and enjoy your company.
Join me on my blog as we journey in community together. Let's keep speaking words of encouragement and friendship with each other in our faith stories — as it's being made and lived. As is.
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
:angel: :angel:
To the Woman Who Doesn't Like Herself (and book giveaway)
Sep 16, 2013 01:10 am | EmilyW
Dear Daughter of Eve,
You carry the seed of life in you. You are muscle and mind and heart. You walk with the calm of the hills. There is beauty in your gait, in the way you hold your shoulders, in your bending to hold a child close, in your rising for those who are mistreated.
You are womb-an. Woman. You create with every breath, and there is no shame in your sexuality, in your curves, in the way your heart beats for home and I long for you to be set free.
Free to love yourself the way your Creator does, the way your children do, the way your man does – the one who vowed till death do us part – and I long for you to embrace your wounds and your pain and then, let it all fly. Like one of those sparrows whom the Lord sees, let it fly.
You gave birth to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to Leah and Rachel and Mary; you gave birth to Billy Graham and Shane Claiborne and Philip Yancey, to Mother Theresa and Madeleine L'Engle and Margaret Thatcher. You are She whose body gave way so another could run and dance. Whose voice was silenced so another could speak and sing.
We are more than our mistakes and you've been carrying yours since the days of creation when the first of us took that fruit and disobeyed her Maker. When she tried to take control because she was convinced God didn't love her.
And since then we've been hurting because we don't believe we are loved. Or lovable. Or loving enough.
All we do is feel guilty and then we take it out on our bodies. We eat Twinkies and over-exercise and then, pints of ice cream and hang over a toilet and we drink too much wine and we don't laugh nearly enough.
And we're always doubting the way our loved ones look at us because we can't believe they would find beauty there. We think they're looking at our faults, and "Remember that I love you," my husband is always saying. "Everything I do and say is out of my love for you."
We would die for others, though. We are up all hours of the night nursing our children and giving love to our husbands and rising early to pack lunches and do load after load of laundry. We are martyrs who hate themselves and it's time, daughter.
It's time to awaken your soul. It's time to put on some lipstick and go dancing.
You are the right shape, the right size, the right build because you are YOU. Your hair is perfect because it is yours and your waist and your thighs, too.
I commission you, then, to rise and be a woman. Be all that a woman can be. Take joy in your femininity, in your uniqueness. God created male and female and you, friend, have a specific job to do.
So go on and love yourself so that you can love others with an everlasting, full-hearted, spirited kind of love that laughs long and cries hard and wraps its arms tight around the world.
With all my heart,
One of your own,
Emily.
***
Friends, I am a former anorexic who has written a book, along with Dr. Dena Cabrera, called Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty and Life After Pregnancy, which celebrates our femininity and our strength as women, while teaching us how to LOVE ourselves so we can, in turn, love our husbands and our children.
I'm excited to give away FOUR HARD COPIES this week, so please leave a comment below on what you love about YOUR body and we will choose a random winner.
Otherwise, you can pick up your own copy of the book HERE or at any Barnes and Noble bookstore. (For the book trailer, endorsements and sample chapters, please visit the official book website HERE)
Emily Wierenga is an artist, blogger, journalist and the author of Chasing Silhouettes and Mom in the Mirror. She blogs regularly at www.emilywierenga.com. You can also connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, LinkedIn or Etsy.
:angel: :angel: :angel:
We Need You & Your God-Sized Dream
Sep 18, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
I can almost hear the breathlessness in her email as she types, "Please don't share this with anyone. If it gets out, someone else might do it."
Later in the day a woman confesses, "There are already so many people doing what I feel called to do. How can my voice even make a difference?"
Then a friend says over dinner to me, "Even when I make progress there's still someone doing it better than I am. Shouldn't I just cheer them on?"
I nod in understanding at the fear, questioning, and hesitation in these statements. When a God-sized dream first comes to us it often feels like a brand new revelation—as if no one else in the whole history of the universe has ever thought of this idea. Then quickly we realize that whatever we want to do or share has already been done or said before. So we sigh and think, "Time to start over."
But that's the reality of God-sized dreams. Wise Solomon said "there is nothing new under the sun." But he didn't say, "there is no one new under the sun." Because every one of us is one-of-a-kind and there will never be anyone else like us again. It doesn't matter if someone else has said it or done it already. You haven't. We need your version, your perspective, your voice in this world. You're simply irreplaceable.
And you are here for such a time as this—to share this God-sized dream with your generation. I love how Scripture says, "David...served God's purposes in his own generation" (Acts 13:36). You are called to offer what God has placed within you to our world right here, right now. No one else will live the exact amount of time you will, in the place you will, with the people who God will have cross your path.
You can't say "oh, they'll get what they need from someone else" because if God intends them to receive it through you, that's not true. "We are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do" (Eph. 2:10). In other words, there are things in this world that only you can do. That means that there is no such thing as better in the Kingdom—only different. You are not competing with your brothers and sisters. Instead all of us are completing God's plan together.
Lisa-Jo Baker says it this way:
No one can steal your dream because God has built it into you.
No one can write your book or design your art.
No one can launch your venture like you.
No one can do that secret impossible that you've got your heart set on instead of you.
You are the DNA of the dream.
Even if you both started with the exact same premise you'd end up glorious worlds apart as distinct as your fingerprints.
Because you are.
What God gives you He gives you on purpose.
We need your part. We need your heart. We need your God-sized dream.
XOXO
Holley Gerth, author of the new devotional Opening the Door to Your God-sized Dream.
:angel: :angel:
The Day Mum Went Swimming
Sep 18, 2013 01:10 am | EmilyW
Mum went swimming the other day. She wore a brand-new bathing suit. It's been three years since she recovered from brain cancer, and I don't ever remember her swimming before.
My brother says she has. He says I just don't remember and he says this with his face bent down a little, protecting the memory. But for all of our long-distance trips in our rusted mini-van with the hand-sewn flower curtains and no air conditioning, for all of our tenting in Arizona and the sun drying us off the minute we stepped from the water, I don't remember Mum in a bathing suit.
She was always covered. The home-school way, some would say, because we were home-schooled and she wore long flowing skirts or a jean dress and I wore the shortest shorts I could find. My long legs like sticks for the anorexia and Mum didn't know how to handle her willful oldest child so she handed me over to Dad who'd been too busy writing a sermon to see what I'd done. And I'd be spanked with a hand or a wooden spoon or belt, and my shorts got shorter.
Showing skin got me attention and I was starving. God didn't approve of me, I knew that, because vanity was a sin and modesty was the Christian code but I was too hungry for love to be fed by religion.
If I'd noticed Mum swimming, I might have felt a little freer. All I knew was, I shouldn't care so much about my looks and that Mum shrugged out of Dad's embrace when he tried to hug her and she didn't think she was beautiful so she didn't tell me I was.
And then Mum got brain cancer. I went home at 26 to take care of her, to feed her from a spoon and read to her when her head drooped and to help her to the toilet. To change her Depends on the days she slept straight through and to sing to her when morning came. I went home to help Dad who never stopped trying to hug his wife and finally she returned his hugs when she was awake.
And modesty wasn't an option for the woman who couldn't pull up her pants or pull on her shirt and she couldn't stop telling me how beautiful I was.
I thought I was going to lose her. And I wished I'd never stopped hugging her those two years when I was sick. Because Mum was dying and no amount of anything mattered for the way she suddenly did.
And then, after eight years of dying she was suddenly gloriously alive. The doctors rubbing their heads, because the tumor was gone. And in the face of death, life – no matter its size or shape or details – becomes excruciatingly stunning. Like the sun, after days of rain.
And Mum began to walk and talk again. She stopped sleeping all hours of the day and re-learned how to cook and clean. And she hung up a plaque that said "Life's short, eat dessert first."
Then she put on a swimsuit and went swimming.
And I don't know that she's ever looked so beautiful.
***
Friends, I am a former anorexic who's written a book, along with Dr. Dena Cabrera, called Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty and Life After Pregnancy, which celebrates our femininity and our strength as women, while teaching us how to LOVE ourselves so we can, in turn, love our husbands and our children.
I'm giving away FOUR HARD COPIES, so don't forget to enter to win on Monday's post! We will choose a random winner at the end of the week.
Otherwise, you can pick up your own copy of the book HERE or at any Barnes and Noble bookstore. (For the book trailer, endorsements and sample chapters, please visit the official book website HERE)
Emily Wierenga is an artist, blogger, journalist and the author of Chasing Silhouettes and Mom in the Mirror. She blogs regularly at www.emilywierenga.com. You can also connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, LinkedIn or Etsy.
:angel:
Making Time for Me
Sep 19, 2013 01:20 am | Jessica Turner
This past summer, I didn't read any books. And it made me a little grumpy.
My husband semi-jokes that I am happier if I am reading. If I am having a rough week, he'll often suggest that I leave the dishes 'til morning and go curl up with a good book. (I married a good man, eh?)
At the beginning of the year, I set a goal of reading 30 books because in 2012 I read hardly anything. That goal has been so rewarding not just because I have read so many fantastic books, but because I am investing in something that I enjoy.
As I've gotten older, I have come to recognize the importance of making time for me and what I'm passionate about. The catch-22 is that as I get older, I have more responsibilities that can make "me time" challenging.
But somehow I manage to carve out the time and I think I am a better wife, mom, co-worker and friend because of it. That sounds dramatic, I know, but its true. When I work in time for myself, I feel more balance and am able to better pour out into those around me.
Usually for me, that time is spent working on my Project Life album, reading a good book, crafting or baking something I pinned on Pinterest. But, that's just me. You might chose to spend time on you doing yoga, collecting stamps, sewing or something else entirely.
It doesn't matter what it is, what matters is that it fills you up.
God uniquely created each one of us with passions that invigorate us, yet we often push them aside for laundry, cleaning, errands and a host of other activities. I'm not saying those things aren't important (clean underwear is a good thing), but rather that those things can't rule your life. God delights in His creation using our gifts.
This month, what if you were to look at your schedule and find one extra hour a week for yourself? Do you think you could do it?
One extra hour is less than 10 minutes a day, but would add up to 52 hours for you! Think of all the things you could do with 52 hours. You could start that book you have been wanting to write, organize the photos on your hard drive or take a new class at that gym.
I believe this investment in ourselves could be the start of something big and meaningful. Will you join me in making time for what you love?
NOTE
This week I launched a short survey asking women to share how they spend their time for a book I am working on. Would you please take just a few minutes to share where you are in this journey? Your answers will be a cornerstone of the book's research and I would be so, so grateful. Thank you.
Question:
What is something that you love to spend time on? More importantly, how do you make time for yourself and this passion?
:angel: :angel:
Sep 19, 2013 01:10 am | Jody Collins
Ten minutes before two in the afternoon, I'm sitting at my desk with a sigh of, "Ahhhhh...," hands folded in prayer.
My heart is full, my spirit content and the words of praise only God understands pour from my lips.
It is so good to have this me-and-God time. His presence is sweet—I savor it like the first sip of good strong coffee, satisfying, rich, deep—and totally worth the wait. I was "supposed" to be here bright and early in the morning, but you know what they say about the best laid plans....
It was the first Monday of summer vacation. The night before I had determined, "I will start things off right."
I jotted down notes—my days would look like this:
7:00 ish Get up
7:30 God's Word, prayer and journalling (and a cup of coffee!)
8:00 ish Go for a Walk
8:30 Sit down and write. Every day.
10:00 Carry on with whatever needs carrying on
This pattern would not only get me closer to Jesus, but would make a better writer, guaranteed.
Unless I overslept on this First Monday.
Which is exactly what I did.
I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee at 9:00 a.m. for some God-sized dream sharing—Big Stuff. Our assistant youth pastor and I were going to brainstorm and I wanted to be all prayed up, spiritually full.
Instead, I bolted out of bed at 8:19. Totally missed my alarm. I barely had time to fix my hair, get dressed and brush my teeth before heading out the door. (Oh, and I had to come back to the house because I forgot my planner. Ack.)
I felt unprepared, like a failure. I wanted to be a veritable fountain of light, overflowing with God's wisdom while we talked about Important Things. And I so wasn't.
What did God do in my coffee get together with my pastor friend? He spoke to both of us, confirmed the work He was doing, stirred us both in prayer and brought encouragement about this big idea. She was excited to receive and I was energized by her affirmations that I was actually hearing from God.
And I had to wonder, as I sat there at my desk—does God CARE what time of day I come to spend with Him in His Word?
Is there like a rule that says, "Morning is best, really, for your quiet time, because that's what Jesus did?"
But what if I was a barista at Starbuck's (like the gals who served us) and I had to get up at 3:30 in the morning so I could open the store at 4:30? In the morning? My son was a barista for a number of years—I used to joke that God was the only other one up at that hour of the day.
Would God expect me to get up "first thing" for my quiet time and devotions?
I think not.
STOP, I heard God say, with the expectations and the "shoulds" and the rules. Just Stop.
Just COME.
Come when you can–
When you're full
When you're empty
When you have an hour
When you have 10 minutes.
Just Come.
And you will be filled with a fresh, satisfying, rich drink of water that never runs out, available 24 hours a day, seven days a week.
Better hours than even Starbuck's keeps.
Promise.
By Jody Lee Collins
:angel: :angel:
How to be a Better Friend
Sep 20, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
I spent a rare weekend with friends, and I had never felt so loved by a group of girls in my whole life. I'm usually one of those who is slow to trust, but there's something different about these friends of mine. I only see them once a year, and when I leave them, I feel a little bit more confident in who I am. They all seem to be striving to come closer to the truth about themselves, and truth in Christ is the best thing that ever happened to a woman. When I leave them, my love for them will have always doubled, but one of the greatest, most lasting thing I've noticed is that I walk away more tender with myself. I see myself in a new way.
I've been thinking about what makes these ladies so special, and the following list on how to be a better friend is what I learned from them. It's a list I made for myself.
1. When you're sitting with me and you look down at your own crossed legs and notice the cellulite dimpling every way it can, don't shift yourself to the side or smooth things out. Sit still. Look down and decide that your skin is beautiful, that I am beautiful, too.
2. When you're hungry, and everyone else has only had salad and half a cookie, pick up the tongs and dip them deep into the pasta. Go back for the cream sauce. Eat a whole cookie.
3. When you haven't been able to get out of the bed, and I'm not catching all the red flags you're waving about the darkness pressing in, pitch a fit if you have to. Do something to shake me by the shoulders. Be straightforward. Say it out loud that you were created to be loved.
4. When you're rested, you don't feel so crazy inside. Your unrest can be contagious. Go to bed when you're sleepy, unless it's to stay up and watch Duck Dynasty with me. Even then, after a good laugh at Uncle Si, go to bed.
5. Know yourself. Appreciate the rip currents in your life that are personal to you, and then by George, don't go swimming toward them. Don't lose yourself to sugar or sex or alcohol or clothes or your kids. On second thought, you can't really not swim toward your kids. In that case, let God be the rip current. It's okay to swim there, even if it makes you sound like a walking-talking Sunday-morning devotional.
6. Love your art. Make room for it. Always keep your eyes and ears open for it. Give yourself permission to enjoy what you make. The light in your eyes is brighter that way.
7. Forgive the ones who hurt you. You have no idea how your peace becomes mine.
8. Be uninhibited. Love the kind of music you love. Dance with that crazy dance face of yours that makes me double over laughing. I would never wear the clothes you have on, and I love that. When you stop making appearances your god, you become the most beautiful person in the room. I like your kind of pretty the most.
9. Say thank you. When I nearly keel over dead at how awesome you are, don't make excuses for the good work God has done in you.
10. Love God. But also? Love yourself. How can you love me if you don't love yourself?
I know it can sound self-indulgent or self-centereed to talk this way, but I'm not talking about that at all. Sometimes I think we feel guilty when we care for ourselves, when we place value on ourselves as God's image-bearing child.
I've come to believe that the friends who are best for me are the ones who love themselves, too. I've been given permission this week to love.
So tell me, what are the ways that you can love yourself better?
:angel:
Sunday Scripture
Sep 22, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
"Then the King will say to those on his right,
'Come, you who are blessed by my Father,
inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world.
For I was hungry, and you fed me.
I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink.
I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home.
I was naked, and you gave me clothing.
I was sick, and you cared for me.
I was in prison, and you visited me.'
"Then these righteous ones will reply,
'Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you?
Or thirsty and give you something to drink?
Or a stranger and show you hospitality?
Or naked and give you clothing?
When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?'
"And the King will say,
'I tell you the truth, when you did it
to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters,
you were doing it to me!'"
Matthew 25:34-40
We are so honored to be partnering with you, our (in)courage sisters, to bless the mamas and babies of Mercy House Kenya this fall. You are feeding, clothing, caring for the least of these in an amazing way! To take part – or to learn more – visit the (in)Mercy project at Pure Charity.
:angel: :angel:
Confessions of an Emotion Stuffer-Downer
Sep 21, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne Segerman
I would love to talk real talk with you for a minute. Let's grab a spot on my couch and I'll make you some green tea with honey and I'll make sure we aren't interrupted because this is a bit of a hard thing.
I have always been a pretty expressive person, and proudly so. Emotions on my sleeve, I figured I was good at processing my hurts and letting them out and not holding stuff in. I appeared to be someone who dealt with her Big Stuff, someone who wasn't in denial about life. I've been through very hard things and let God deal with them and surrendered, and I guess I thought I was done doing that. You can see where this is going...
But then this summer God pretty much hit me over the head with a truth I'm still working through. I push my true emotions down and away and into a box where I have no plans to access them ever again. Then the emotions I do let out are sort of the skimming off the top type. The fat on top of the pan that you can discard without any effects to the actual dish. The emotions that are rather safe, because they aren't *real*. The happy spazzy side of me, the deep, peaceful, introspective side of me. Both are aspects of me, but both are hiding an insidious truth and therefore aren't really my real self.
I was shocked to realize that I'm actually an emotion stuffer-downer. Those emotions that were always on my sleeve? They are actually the product, the effects, of what's been shut off. Sometimes you might see anger or shame, but they aren't at the root. That happiness you might see, yes it is real, but only surface-real. Not deep, let freedom ring, kind of real.
Here is what was at the core of me that I didn't even know was there: good ol' fashioned fear.
It's as if all my true self was hiding and I created this other self to cope with life. And I know that sounds dramatic, but it was a coping that had to happen because of hard things I went through, and now God wants it all healed. The old story is done ruling me, and a new story is being formed.
What I want to know is this: Do you have deeply rooted fear? Maybe you don't feel afraid, but do you have total peace about your career, or your marriage or your family — your life? If you don't have peace, there is a chance you have some fear in there that could stand to be dug up. In fact, I feel like "digging" is too gentle of a metaphor. I want us to rip out the fear by the scalp and throw it across the room until it hits the wall and is dead. I want the fear gone and gone.
You see, that fear is not from the Lord. He is love, and fear is the opposite of love. And if God's perfect love casts out all fear, it should be ridding me of fear. If I'm still afraid deep inside me, I'm not letting God get at me deep inside my heart.
So I let him go there, to those tender heart places that were so wounded I let them be covered up and forgotten in hopes the pain would hurt less. He is knitting those wounds together now, a newness that is holy and beautiful, because the fear was ripped out and a new story is forming and, oh girl, it's a good one.
Maybe you don't relate to any of this at all, and that's ok. I'm so glad you're in that healed and beautiful place.
But if you search your heart – allow God to search it – and you come up with some kind of fear at the depths of you, hiding and pretending to not be there, then you know what I'm talking about. God is ready for you to let him grab that fear and take it from you and give you a fresh well to draw upon.
Know that the process isn't easy, but it is so rewarding I can't say it enough — IT IS WORTH IT.
Face those fears, don't run from them any longer. You are safe, you are loved, and you can trust the One who wants to heal you wholly and completely. Let God's perfect love push out every inch of the fear that binds.
It's time.
:angel: :angel:
Because I Loved You
The Faces Behind Mercy
Sep 23, 2013 01:20 am | Kristen Welch
By now you might recognize the bright, glowing faces of Mercy House.
These precious girls and their babes are the literal poster children for miracles and God-sized dreams.
But there are countless faces you and I don't know. I've never seen the face of the mother who writes the $25 check every month that pays for the clothes and shoes the residents wear or the mom who balances her budget and decides her family can give $10 that will buy a bag of charcoal to power the jika (outdoor stove) to prepare a huge pot of beans because the electricity is out again.
I wouldn't recognize the family that sacrificed a vacation to give $1,000 to pay for a c-section or the dad who gave a donation in his pregnant wife's name at Christmas that made three counseling sessions possible for our new traumatized girl. Or the mom who invites her children to think of others:
"While trying to teach my girls that not everyone in the world is as blessed as we are in the USA, I asked them to pick out toys and clothes that we could sell and donate the proceeds to a good cause. My girls are 3, 6, and 9, and they did a wonderful job helping with the sale. I gave them a few options to choose where to donate the money. When I got to Mercy House, they were horrified by what had happened to the girls who now live in Mercy House (I only gave them a brief overview). They immediately wanted to give the money to Mercy House."
I don't know the hundreds and hundreds of faces who make a maternity home in Kenya possible for pregnant girls who had no other options. But I know that every small gift has mattered. Not only has it offered hope and fulfilled the vision of Mercy House, it's changed the giver.
"We've learned that our small gifts and support, when combined with others' small gifts and support, can create a HUGE difference. 12 girls rescued, 12 babies saved. This is just amazing to us. Daily, our kids ask about 'our family in Kenya.' They look for ways to give to The Mercy House. Being a part of this journey helps us give our kids a wider, more comprehensive worldview. And it opens our eyes, too.
When we see the newest pictures of Precious and how big she's growing or sweet Esther and how her insecurity is being transformed into confidence right before our eyes...well, I don't know how to put that into words. We're excited to be a part of The Mercy House family. So long as The Mercy House is rescuing people in the name of Jesus and showing them the love of God, the Goodwins will be standing by their side, supporting every move. We love watching God move in Kenya and work through The Mercy House!" ~ Lindsey Goodwin, monthly donor
"God called me to mentor young mothers-to-be. I thought I would actually BE doing the mentoring/teaching, but God's ways are bigger and better and more amazing than mine. My support (with so many others) allows those He has called in Kenya to physically be with these amazing young women. I love seeing the transformation of these lives because God is working around them, in them and through them. Lives have been forever changed. And those babies are so cute!!!
Being part of this story has opened my eyes to many things...to the plight of young girls everywhere, to the reality of a slum, to the far-reaching impact that one person's obedience can have. This story has deepened my faith in the miracle-working God I worship and my heart is more tender." ~ Carol Darden, monthly Mercy House donor
The face behind Mercy House looks a lot like Kristen Howerton's of Rage Against the Minivan:
I may not recognize all the faces behind mercy, but God knows everyone. He sees. And your gift of love, no matter how small, makes a difference.
Phase 1 of (in)Mercy is over halfway there and the 24 residents and six staff members will be able to ride to church and doctor's visits, to the market without taking multiple trips in a new-to-us van!
Mercy House doesn't exist in Kenya because of large government grants or big corporate donations. It rescues and loves the least of these because of you.
Stay tuned for Phase 2.
:angel: :angel:
Sep 23, 2013 01:10 am | Alexandra Kuykendall
I placed one foot in front of the other, grateful the library staircase was long. Each step was a crossing over from everyday life of a nursing baby and school drop-offs and work emails into a few hours of writing. Once inside, my feet took me on autopilot to my spot on the second floor, the window that looked across the commons onto the chapel with the cross.
But first I had to walk between bookshelves.
Rows of books written by people who believed enough in the topics at hand that they gave hours of life to pound out the words. It was a repeated daily passage into the physical, emotional and spiritual space of writing down my story. I walked through the aisles, past the authors who had gone before me, trusting if they could do it, I could too.
Once at my desk with a view, my laptop out and my coffee waiting to be finished, I read an email. From my mother-in-law, a seasoned writer, who sent me almost daily encouragements as I tried to type my soul out, story by story, line by line, word by word. Her email included a blog post written by the writer for which she and I shared an admiration: Donald Miller. She loved his emphasis on story and I admired his honesty. This particular post was entitled The Best Writing Advice I've Ever Received. And this writer who I admired oh so much simply said he was divinely nudged with the phrase, "Love your reader."
Love. Your. Reader.
You, who I pictured sitting across that library table from me sharing some coffee and conversation. You, a willing listener to hear the details of my own journey, deserved to be loved as I told them. I loved through the particulars that I thought you needed to hear. The ones that talked of a broken heart as a girl, searching for significance in all the places a girl would, of a young woman falling in love and the fear in it, and midnight marriage prayers only a few years later. Of motherhood and all of its expectations and waves of emotion that I wasn't prepared for. I told of the questions, the doubts because I wanted you to know you are not alone. I wanted to love you.
And how interesting this phrasing – Love your reader – when the whole premise of my story is love. Three burning questions that get to the core of who we are: Am I lovable? Am I loved? Am I loving? When I consider what truly defines me, it is Love. The Love Giver, who gave his very self on the cross. Who CHOSE to take on the worst of the world in order to heal it. To heal us.
His reason: Because I loved you.
For God is love.
And yet so much of my journey is confusing that love. Is looking for validation that yes, I am lovable, and that please, please love me kind of ask, and the failing after failing of loving the people around me well. Only when I look at The Artist's truth and ask Am I lovable? Am I loved? Am I loving? do I get a proper sense of my worth. He tells me his Grace covers it all. I don't have to be everything, or enough, he is enough. I can rest in his pure and generous love. The Artist's Daughter.
I had it all in my heart as it was now my turn to pound out those words.
Because I believed in the topic at hand, that Grace is given and it is enough.
Because I loved you.
——————-
Alexandra Kuykendall works at MOPS International (Mothers of Preschoolers) where she encourages mothers of young children to keep growing as they take on their new mothering identity. She is a regular contributor and consulting editor to MomSense magazine, Connections magazine, and the MOPS blog. A frequent speaker for MOPS, Alexandra has been featured on Good Morning America. As the mother of four young children, she continues to refine her mothering identity. She lives in Denver, Colorado, with her husband, Derek, and their daughters.
Alex is also the author of The Artist's Daughter: A Memoir, a book full of short, moving episodes that transport readers into her life that included a childhood in Europe, a spiritual conversion marked more by questions than answers, a courtship in the midst of a call to be with troubled teens, marriage and motherhood – and always, always, the question of identity. Through her personal journey, women will discover their own path to understanding the shape of their lives and a deeper sense of God's intimate presence within it.
Today we're excited to give away FIVE copies of The Artist's Daughter! To be entered to win a copy, leave a comment telling us about something you've learned since beginning your faith journey. Winners will be chosen randomly and announced on Friday.
:angel: :angel:
:angel: :angel:
A Prayer for a Daughter
Sep 24, 2013 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp
Father who breathed into this daughter...
I pray for this girl being formed into eternity....
May the wind always be in her hair
May the sky always be wide with hope above her
And may all the hills be an exhilaration
the trials but a trail,
all the stones but stairs to God.
God, clothe this girl in a gown of grace
Grace, the only dress that makes beautiful,
the style of Your spirit.
Nourish her on the comfort food of the Word,
Word, that makes her crave more of Christ,
have hunger pangs for Him.
Enclose her in communion with You
You, Love who makes her love, who folds her heart into a roof
that absorbs storms for souls,
that makes her tongue speak only the words that make souls stronger.
May her vocation in this world simply be translation
Translating every enemy into esteemed guest
Translating every countenance into the face of Christ
Translating every burden into blessing
When it's hard to be patient... make her willing to suffer
When it's ridiculous to be thankful ... make her see all is grace
When it's radical to forgive ... make her live the foundation of our faith
And when it's time to work ... make her a holy wonder.
May she be bread and feed many with her life and her laughter
May she be thread and mend brokenness and knit hearts
May she be dead to all ladders & never go higher, only lower, to the lonely, the least & the longing
Her led of the Spirit to lead many to the Cross
that leads to the tomb wildly empty.
Oh, and raise me, Lord, from the deadness of my own sins to love this beautiful girl like You do...
In the name of Christ who rose
and appeared first
to one of His daughters...
Amen...
Q4U: What's one prayer for your daughter? What's one prayer for your daughter that has come true? How can we pray for your daughter?
Will you join in the conversation here? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)
By Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience
:angel: :angel:
Sep 24, 2013 01:10 am | Paulette Sackett
Last night I read a story from an old children's Bible. It was about Elijah the Prophet running from Jezebel. The pages showed a slightly yellowed image of a winged angel bending over Elijah as he lay weary on hard ground, a meal of bread and water set near and waiting. The story quotes Elijah from I Kings 19 when he says "It is enough! Now, LORD. . ."
Oh how I felt those words in my own soul. My eyes blurred and I struggled to finish the line.
"It is enough! Now, LORD, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers!" (vs. 4)
There's a burning ache in my heart that never leaves me. I am grieving.There have been too many losses and disappointments in too little time. Like Elijah, I want to give up, yet at the same time I desperately need God to use me, to make all this loss and struggle have purpose. "Oh God, I can bear all this if it leads to helping others know You. I can take it if I can somehow see You in it."
That's been my plea with God for more than two years now. But the light at the end of the tunnel is still dark. Several years ago I put my career on hold to follow God's call to ministry. Our family has left multiple homes and cashed out 401Ks and given up all security to serve the Lord in full-time ministry. And now my husband's promising career as a pastor is in the toilet, and he's applying his vast theological knowledge as a car salesman at the local dealership.
I swallowed hard as the tears spilled. I took a deep breath and continued aloud:
Then as he lay and slept, suddenly an angel touched him, and said to him, "Arise and eat." . . . So he ate and drank, and lay down again. (vs. 5-6)
I connect with Elijah's disoriented exhaustion. Like him, my husband and I have "been very zealous for the Lord God of hosts." (vs. 10) All we've tried to do is serve you, Lord. What is going on? But sometimes God gives us what we need, not what we want. Elijah wanted to die. The struggle was too great. But God did not answer his prayer. Instead He silently saw to Elijah's needs. Bread, water, rest.
I paused. I saw a shadow of the Holy Eucharist in the faded loaf on that page. I saw the rest, the passage of time, and the watchful care of God reflected in that white-winged image. The story went on to tell of a journey that led to greater ministry. But I only stared at the picture, stuck there with Elijah in that lonely, hard place of exhaustion and frustration and silent ministration.
Slowly I felt peace take root amidst the burning in my heart. I may lay weary on hard ground in my frustration and God's silence. But my God is bent over me, strengthening me with the bread of His Word and the water of His Spirit, and offering rest "under the shadow of the Almighty" (Psalm 91:1). Bread, water, rest. It may not be what I want right now, but it must be what I need for the journey ahead.
So I will eat, and drink, and lay my life down again with thanksgiving. There is more yet to come.
:angel: :angel:
Easy Meal Ideas & the Power They Hold
Sep 25, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
As the crisp, fall air brushes my cheek, it marks that time of year when the hustle and bustle of my hurried schedule wreaks havoc on our family dinner time.
Making meals. Gathering for meals.
I desire to fight for that time together, yet when the 5 o'clock hour whips around that "What's for Dinner?" question often echoes through the halls, unanswered.
My internal dialogue screams, "It feels like I just made dinner. How can they be 'starving' already? Our schedules are too crazy. I can't keep up."
My mantra for meal planning convicts, "If you fail to plan, you plan to fail," and yet too often, I talk it, and I outline it on my Printable Weekly Menu Planner, but fail to execute.
Yes, breathe that sigh of relief. You're not the only one. We are on this journey together and quite frankly, dinners are always better looking on Pinterest.
For years, I taught meal planning workshops entitled, 4 Meals in 4 Minutes. I demonstrated my Power Cooking techniques and encouraged women to bring their family back around the dinner table. I'd arrive home after class exhausted and see remnants of frozen pizza wrappers. The irony was not lost on me, and I determined things had to change.
Food is a means to satisfy hunger, but mealtime holds the power to revolutionize the way families and friends connect.
Stories are sprinkled throughout scripture that center around the breaking of bread. Sharing food in a meaningful way breaks down barriers, encourages us to engage more fully with each other, and allows life-giving conversation to occur. Jesus knew this truth, and He modeled it consistently with his disciples. Meals wove throughout His ministry.
When we're committed to their importance and realize it's not about an intricate recipe created, but about the gathering, it changes how we think about food.
With five children, four of them teenagers, frozen pizzas are still a staple in our home. Unfortunately, evening dinners don't occur daily, but I prioritize the moments we do have.
When food is served, ambiance is set. We always eat by candle light, even if it's just mac and cheese, because that ambiance soothes the soul. We disengage from the outside world and share the "highs and lows" of our day, discuss something the Lord is teaching us or pull a question from our conversation starters jar.
As I attempt to steward our resources well, especially this month since I am doing a NO Spend Freezer and Pantry Challenge, eating out is the exception to our meal plans. By implementing a Power Cooking hour, I spend less time in the kitchen, and more time gathering. Creating an action plan of my quick kitchen tips, allows for many easy dinners and frees me up to enjoy meal time, rather than dread it.
1. Identity the obstacles that keep you from getting dinner on the table.
Do you love to pin recipes and mark them in magazine, but then can't find them when you need them? Create a simple Meal Solutions Notebook so that all ingredients and directions are at your fingertips.
Is this the fussy time for your children? Keep a special box of toys just for dinner time and make sure to serve them some fun "hors d'oeuvers" to tie them over until the main dish.
There is a solution for every obstacle. Identity the problem and maybe we can help in the comments.
2. Create a 10 Minute Dinners recipe list.
Poll your family and find out their favorite fast meals. Know those meals by heart and always keep those pantry staples stocked. When your day hasn't gone as planned, you have these meals ready in your repertoire. A few of our fast family favorites are Cheesy Cheddar Ranch Chicken, One Dish Baked Ziti, Asian Pork Tenderloin, Easy BBQ Crockpot Chicken, and Taco Casserole. For variety, I make sure there's a mixture of crock pot, grill, stove and oven baked recipes.
3. Spend one hour of concentrated time focused on prepping as many food items as possible.
When I first did my one-hour kitchen experiment, I attacked that hour like I would any high level executive job. I used the rice cooker, crock pot, grill, oven and even my food processor. It was multitasking mayhem as I raced to see how much I could accomplish in one hour, but realized this needed to be a weekly priority. It revolutionized my meal time.
If you only have a few minutes, begin by prepping your proteins. There's such frustration in realizing the ground beef for tonight's chili is still frozen solid. By already having the ground beef pre-cooked and divided into freezer bags, it can easily be thawed in the microwave or right in the Dump and Run Taco Soup. Chili, spaghetti, or lasagna pulls together in minutes when the meat is ready. Weekly, I cook five pounds of ground beef in the crock pot (yes, crock pot), separate them into one or two pound servings and season them accordingly for upcoming meals. I believe in working smarter, not harder.
The same principal holds true for chicken. Grill chicken in bulk or cook up ten pounds of chicken breast at once (I've even prepped 30 pounds in an hour.) Then dice, slice and/or shred the cooked chicken in seconds, and bag it up. Again, weeks of chicken meals such as Simple Sesame Chicken, chicken salads, wraps, enchiladas, pot pies and casseroles can be ready quickly by just being intentional with that one hour of kitchen prep.
When proteins are completed, move onto veggies and carbs. By dicing onions , celery, carrots and peppers for the week, I save a lot of money and time. Salad gets washed, cut and divided. I cook, but not overcook, beans, lentils, macaroni, rice or potatoes for the fridge and freezer. Depending on my priorities for the week, I may make up Muffins, Waffles, Egg McMuffins or Egg and Cheese Puffs in bulk. Again, identify your needs and the time allotted for your Power Cooking session. It's so worth the effort.
4. Find a Friend to Journey with You
"Many hands make light work," as my father always reminded me. When a group of friends gather in community, even by holding each other accountable and working together on meal making, it turns the mundane into something magical. Some of my most enjoyable evenings have been when my friends gathered for a meal swapping time. We laughed, shared life, and went home with new meals for our families to enjoy. I knew tummies would be fed, just like my soul had been reached that evening.
Oh friends, these are just a few of the many tips I've learned to implement over the years and hopefully, this spurred on your culinary creativity. When I get organized in the kitchen, it's amazing how many other things fall into place.
Let's encourage each other in these small ways. Everyone has to eat, so let's take back that chaotic dinner hour and enjoy our time together.
I'd love to learn with you. Might you join me in the comments?
QWhat obstacles stand in the way of your meal time? Do you have a time-saving tip that helps you in the kitchen?
by: Jen Schmidt of Balancing Beauty and Bedlam and 10 Minute Dinners
:angel:
The Almost Extinction of the Drop-In
Sep 28, 2013 01:20 am | The Nester
It had been years.
I've become so accustomed to emailing and texting and long pre-planned get-togethers on the calendar that the drop-in had become almost obsolete in my life.
Until that day when I was gifted with a drop-in visit.
Last winter I had the biggest deadline of my life. I quarantined myself, wore and slept in the same clothes for days, sent my husband and boys off on multiple three day weekend trips and got to work. I said no more often than a two-year-old and focused on one thing: my deadline. I agreed to no extracurricular activity that needed to be planned in advanced, only listened to music without words, and the dog and I spent way too much time locked up in my bedroom surrounded by empty iced coffee cups.
Then it happened. My doorbell rang. And no one was scheduled to be ringing it.
And in walked an angel and a miniature angel in the form of my friend Maria and her one-year-old adorable baby boy. They came up into the underbelly of my project – my filthy room surrounded by wrappers and imaginary crumpled up papers and stagnant air. And the baby played on the ground and smiled and flirted with me, and Maria sat on my bed and told me stories and asked me questions.
It was glorious.
It was just what I needed.
You know how when people are in the hospital and therapy animals come visit them and it actually helps? I felt like I had just had emergency friend and baby therapy. There was something about the no expectations, drop-in visit that was pure joy for me. She knew I might not be there, she knew I would be knee deep in my own mess, and that didn't matter to her.
After Maria's drop-in and the unexpected joy I felt from her visit, I made it a point to drop in on someone else – and and the timing of that drop-in was surprising, needed, and something the old, pre-Maria's-drop-in me wouldn't have felt comfortable doing.
Last month after we closed on our house, we missed a surprise drop-in and still, the very thought that Donna and Hannah drove almost an hour to surprise us almost brings me to tears. We weren't home, the back door was locked, and the dog door that leads to our back porch was open. Donna even made a video of Hannah crawling through the dog door so they could safely leave gifts of bread, a bottle of wine and flowers out of reach of the critters.
The drop-in is surprising.
The drop-in is risky.
The drop-in is lovely.
Let's not let the drop-in become extinct.
When's the last time you were the drop-inee or drop-iner? Was it worth it?
:angel: :angel:
When You're Worn
Sep 26, 2013 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth
During my nearly forty years on this planet, I've traveled through several seasons of life where only one word can be used to describe my state of being: worn.
The last time I felt that way passed by just a few months ago. Nothing catastrophic was bombarding my world. I wasn't sick or clinically depressed. I was simply exhausted by an army of everyday burdens that seemed to have banded together with the mission of taking me down:
My husband and I were on a serious hunt to purchase our first home ... and we live in one of the few "seller's markets" left in the country.
As exciting as it was, a new house meant we would soon be moving again –bringing our stats up to 13 different addresses in 10 different cities, in 7 different states all in a span of 14 years.
Our six-year-old son was being bullied in school and our nine-year-old daughter cried herself to sleep every night because she dreaded the idea of moving away from the friends she had just made.
A dear loved one was battling a tremulous situation that threatened her safety.
I took on a few more responsibilities at work and was anxious to prove myself.
I was worn.
One soggy Saturday morning in May during this period of weariness, I heard my husband calling me from downstairs. I ignored him. Instead of sliding my legs across the bed so I could stand up, I pressed the right side of my face deeper into my lumpy cotton pillow. As I started to shutter the sun's rays with my blanket, I noticed the pair of black pumps I had kicked off the night before. The shoes appeared to be in decent shape when on my feet, but from my vantage point that morning, I could see that the heels on each one were falling apart. There was even a small pebble imbedded in one of the soles.
"Hmph. That's how I feel," I thought as I closed my eyes and pretended that I didn't hear my husband's calls.
I've experienced other mental and spiritual wear and tear moments that were more traumatic than the day described above. Moments when breathing required more strength than I thought my lungs could accommodate.
There have been times when the consequences trailing my own grievous mistakes smacked me breathless. Days when rejection shredded my confidence and the hurtful choices of others knocked me to the floor.
There was once even a time when I had forgotten the existence of hope because grace, mercy and redemption were hidden far underneath a trash heap of lies I had no business believing.
Have you been there? I'm guessing you have been.
When a culture brimming with deadlines, conflicting priorities, information overload, and technical connectivity is thrown smack-dab into a broken, hurt-filled world, populations of worn people become as much a fact of life as sunshine and rain.
Living is tough business because life gets messy ... even with Jesus. Sometimes, Christians don't like to admit that ... as if we'll appear less worthy if we show actual proof that we need a savior. But looking straight at our weaknesses and admitting that sometimes even the "small stuff" isn't so small is often the first step to rejuvenation.
When I'm worn ... or even showing symptoms that I am heading in that direction, I know that there are two things I need to do: 1) Pray for strength; 2) Search for truth.
The prayer doesn't need to be eloquent and verbose and the search for truth doesn't require a concordance or Greek translator; because when your spirit is threadbare, baby steps in the right direction go a long way.
Here are five scriptures that I read and reread when my spirit needs refreshing.
Romans 5:1-5
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Hebrews 11: 1-3
Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God's command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.
Psalm 25:5
Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long.
Psalm 119: 25-27
Cause me to understand the way of your precepts,that I may meditate on your wonderful deeds.
My soul is weary with sorrow; strengthen me according to your word. Keep me from deceitful ways; be gracious to me and teach me your law.
Each of those verses are precious to me in times of weariness because they are easy to digest during chaotic moments, yet are packed with the essential nutrients my soul needs to recover. They are filled with hope, encouragement and direction. And while reading these and other scriptures don't change the circumstances that wear me thin, they do strengthen my resolve.
:angel: :angel:
The Unlikely Idol
Sep 26, 2013 01:10 am | Leeanne Burda
It was a normal June day full of sunshine. I had taken my then two-year-old daughter to the pool one afternoon to play. As she played in the water I noticed her paddling with her face in the water like we had just practiced in her swim lessons. "She's doing great," I thought to myself. A few seconds went by and I realized she wasn't bringing her head out of the water.
I went to her and picked her up out of the water and her eyes had rolled back in her head. Her little body was limp. I started beating her back. The lifeguard came to me. After a few seconds water came out of her mouth and she starting coughing. She was okay.
How did I miss her being in distress? I was 12 inches away from her in the water.
How did the lifeguard miss it when there were two kids in the entire pool? Why? How? I remember tucking her into bed that night and thinking, "How will I ever get over this visual in my head?"
For one year, every day and many nights, I would wake up panicked over that event. My children's safety became a deep fear for me that I couldn't even fully articulate to my husband. I suffered deeply over guilt of the accident and fear of what could happen next. The closer we got to spring the next year, the more anxious I became.
One Sunday I was home from church with our newborn and my husband gave me a summary of the Sunday sermon. He told me that our Pastor spoke about giving the Lord the praise for everything in your life. Many times we suffer in the 'what ifs' and 'what could have happened' instead of seeing the provision and protection of the Lord. At that very moment I felt this wave of conviction come over me.
I knew at that point I had made my children's safety an idol. I was steeped deep in a sin that was all consuming and it had shackled me down for over a year. "Dear children, keep yourselves from idols" (1 John 5:21) filled my heart.
Safety and healthy fear is not necessarily a bad thing. I teach my children to fear running into the street because a car could hurt them. We lock our doors to our home as a proper level of safety for our family. But what began to happen in my life, based on my painful experience, was that no one could protect or care for my children but me.
I became so convinced of this that I even didn't trust my husband. One day I started crying when he was going to take them on a bike ride. I gave him a list of five or six things he had to do to make sure nothing happened to them. In a gentle way he said to me, "Don't you know I would lay down my life for them? You have to stop this." But I didn't stop and it got worse. I cut the Lord out of this area of my life and it felt very dark. Tim Keller summarizes an idol best in his book, Counterfeit Gods:
"It is anything more important to you than God, anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give. A counterfeit god is anything so central and essential to your life that, should you lose it, your life would feel hardly worth living. An idol has such a controlling position in your heart that you can spend most of your passion and energy, your emotional and financial resources, on it without a second thought." (Taken from Tim Keller's Counterfeit Gods)
I didn't see my own self-dependence growing until my husband shared the sermon details with me that day and the Holy Spirit penetrated my heart. I immediately confessed my sin before the Lord and asked Him to give me a spirit of gratitude for protecting my daughter. All I thought about the previous year was, "Why did that have to happen" instead of, "Thank you, Jesus, for protecting her."
My heart immediately changed and for the first time in a year I didn't wake up thinking about it. I had renewed confidence in my husband and others entrusted to care for her. I gave that area over to the Lord and He freed me.
My heart's cry began like Psalm 51:1-4 but in God's great compassion and mercy, my heart began to sing a new song of praise just like from Psalm 40:1-5.
Do you have an idol in your life? God can free you from it and give you victory. He restores all things!
:angel: :angel: :angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Friends love through all kinds of weather,
and families stick together in all kinds of trouble.
Proverbs 17:17 (The Message)
:angel: :angel:
For When Your Child Feels Out of Control (and You Do, Too)
Sep 28, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Mae
The movie was almost over when my sweet little girl fell asleep in my arms.
I looked at my other children and gave them the "shhh..." lips as I attempted to gently lift myself and carry my girl to her bed. As I tugged gently on the blankets and pillows surrounding me, her eyes opened. I picked her up and carried her up the steps heading toward her room.
"No mama, I'm not tired, I don't want to go to bed."
"Yes, honey, it's bedtime. I'm going to carry you to bed and lie down with you."
And then,
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The wriggling began.
The screaming, the crying, the desperation in her body for me to let her go...she started acted crazy.
But I know this, and I've seen it before, and I know she is just so tired. She is not being bad, or disobedient; her body is acting out. Her little self is a mess as she is between sleep and awake, and her brain is fumbling to figure out which it wants to be in.
I put her in her bed and sit next to her. She yells at me, tells me go, tells me she wants to get up. She is sweating, and kicking.
I close her blinds, turn on her fan, and close the door with me inside her room.
I lay my head down close to hers, and I just say, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay."
More kicking, arms flailing, more shouts.
"It's okay, honey." I rub her head.
And just when I think she will never settle down, I decide to start singing.
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound..."
Five seconds doesn't go by and her mouth closes with her eyes. She leans into me, tucks her head in between the pillow and my cheek, and wraps her arm around me.
I keep singing.
Her breathing slows, and she is going deep.
I wait a few minutes, rubbing her head, nuzzling into her hair, and then I say quietly, "I'm going to go tuck in your brother and sister." She nods, and sinks into a final sleep.
I get up, go out, and thank God for the delight that is my little girl. That precious one who just needs her mama when she feels out of control.
That girl, she's a lot like me.
There are days I feel out of control, anxious, frozen by the day ahead of me. I start to panic. Can I make it through my day?
And then, as soft as a breeze on my face, I feel it. I feel the Spirit inside me calming my anxious heart, reminding me that I am not alone, that He is with me, keeping me tucked in close as He sings over me.
I can make it, I'm okay. And my little girl, she's okay, too. We're going to make it.
No matter how out-of-control we feel, or how desperate, or how overwhelming life feels sometimes, we have a Father who is close, and kind, and gentle, and who will never leave us.
In fact, He delights over us.
Today, in the midst of whatever anxiety surrounds you, meditate on these words...
The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.
Zephaniah 3:17, ESV
And if you time, take a few minutes and let your soul worship: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMYReIv1ax4
:angel: :angel:
An Encouragement To Daughters
Sep 30, 2013 01:20 am | Robin Dance
And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him.
A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart.
~ Ecclesiastes 4:12
For all but the first four months of high school, I had a boyfriend.
It was a tumultuous thing, this teenage romance, full of all the drama and conflict of an 80s John Hughes film. Break-ups. Make-ups. Cheatin' hearts. Both of us.
I remember practice-writing my married name a thousand times – my first and his last – and I even set our wedding date for September 17, 1985 (I liked that date for no particular reason at all). As fate and young love would have it, we went our separate ways by college and eventually lost touch altogether.
Years later, when I heard "our song" begin to play at our ten-year class reunion – The Commodores' Three Times a Lady – I asked my husband of then eight years if he minded if I asked my old beau to dance. He was fine with it, but my friend declined–his wife didn't approve.
It was the last time I saw him.
* * * * * ** *
The way I see it there are two ways to live with regret:
1) To be bound by it, anchored to your past, where your history informs your present and you're too paralyzed to move forward (negative and unproductive).
2) When you recognize if you were given the chance to go back in time and make different decisions, understanding then what you know now, you likely would. It doesn't mean you're continuously beating yourself up over it; you simply have the benefit of knowing the consequences of your past decisions and realizing there was a better choice you could have made.
Unless you happen to end up marrying your high school sweetheart, maintaining a close friendship with him after marriage probably isn't the best idea. Conversely, your relationships with your girlfriends are something you can hold onto always and forever.
This, among several reasons, is why we encouraged our children to pursue friendship with members of the opposite sex when they reached high school. While we didn't forbid dating, we discouraged it by encouraging group outtings and spending time with their friends.
Our oldest made this easy; early on she made the decision not to date/have a boyfriend in high school.
My daughter was so different from the girl I was in high school and I admired her for so many reasons:
reserved and resolved, she was a young woman with strong convictions. Her faith was growing, evidences noticeable in part by her concern for others. She was determined and compassionate and spoke truth into the lives around her. And her inner beauty magnified her outer.
For those reasons and so many more, I thought all the boys in her school were dirt dumb and bat blind not to be chasing after her regardless of her decision not to have a boyfriend (it's not like she broadcast it).
Her two best friends made the same decision regarding dating anyone seriously in high school. Rather than dealing with the kind of relational drama common to many (and to myself during that same season), they invested in their friendship.
Those three cords were strong and beautiful.
Observing their friendship I realized something special I had missed out on by the choices I had made.
* * * * * * * * * *
One day this summer the three girls were home from college spending the night at our house. It was during a conversation with them that I realized they were questioning some of their choices back in high school – did their decision not to date anyone even matter? Had it all been for nothing, assuring a naïveté about the opposite sex that didn't really serve them?
And so with the strongest conviction I could muster, I told them no! It was not for nothing!
Making a counter-culture decision and sticking with it is one of most mature, challenging and protective choices you can make for yourself.
Not getting seriously involved with a guy...
spared them the teenage drama and heartache typically associated with on-again/off-again relationships.
protected them from temptations that are so difficult to resist, sometimes you give in to what you never thought you would.
fortified their friendships with one another and strengthened their friendships in general.
I wanted them to understand how rare that decision is and that it set them apart in a beautiful way. That what they may lack in experience with the opposite sex is really no set back at all and that the right guy will not only understand but will value that choice.
I told them if I could go back to high school knowing then what I know now, I would never have dated a guy all four years; I would have invested my time and energy and affections into friendships that could last a lifetime.
* * * * * * * * *
My in-laws were babies when they fell in love at 14 and 15. High school sweethearts who married in college, over 50 years later their affections still sizzle. I adore that kind of love story. I also have friends who have remained in touch with the fella they dated in high school.
In other words, I recognize not everyone's choices and circumstances align neatly with what I'm suggesting, and that's just fine! I would never presume a "one size fits all" approach to personal conviction.
My prayer, my purpose, is simply to encourage.
This is a love letter to the girls who've never dated; to those who have never been asked out and to those who were asked and declined. To the wallflowers or late bloomers or girls who made intentional choices.
Whatever your case, this is a gift.
Choice and circumstance has protected your heart and maybe even your body, and allowed you time to invest in other relationships and interests. It's given you time to grow up and mature in your faith.
It's not something ever to regret.
Q. I bet opinions are all over the place with this one; care to share yours? Or your wisdom, encouragement or experience? I'd love to hear.
~ Robin Dance
:angel:
Jesus In the Loveliness
Oct 01, 2013 01:10 am | Heather Caliri
{Photo by Viviana Ga}
I had about a half-hour to spend time with God.
My two children, three and six, were happy in front of a video. For now.
To be a mother is to hurry, but it was Sunday, and the sky was a swirl of white on blue. We'd recently moved back to our hometown after six months abroad. We now had a yard—green grass, an archway of bougainvillea and a lime tree.
The apartment we'd just left in Buenos Aires was lovely, but its balcony narrow, with a view of buses and a Laundromat.
Looking at the sky, I decided: I will sit outside with God. I will make a pot of tea. I will read the Bible.
I have gone through periods of my life where I sit regularly with God and Scripture, and times where I do not. Sometimes I couldn't, because the devotional had become a litmus test I used to measure whether I was worthy.
Sometimes, it took not reading the Word for a while to remember that God is the one who is worthy.
But lately when I read the Bible, I feel like a child, learning to sit still with her Daddy. Learning the family history and realizing that I'm continuing its stories.
So I put the red kettle on the stove and turned on the burner, watched the coil grow as orange as a poppy.
Then, in the living room, I heard my children shift. One of them whined at the other.
The video would now end in twenty-eight minutes, since I'd taken time for tea. And that's if they didn't wander off, need anything, or fight.
I eyed the pot. Perhaps I could do without the tea? It would be faster. I would have more time with Jesus.
The guilt rose. I didn't want to put off the Bible reading until the last few minutes of the show, squeezing Jesus into them. It was a day of spaciousness, and I wanted there to be enough time for him.
The kettle hissed at me.
{Photo by Shardayyy}
Help, Lord, I said.
And in the midst of the anxiety, the answer came.
There was enough time for the kettle. Enough time for tea. There was enough time because Jesus was there with me in the kitchen as I prepared for the Bible. Jesus was there as I lifted the kettle off the burner and filled the pot. He held hands with me as I selected a tea bag. He carried me as I carried the pot and my Bible outside.
He was there, now, and I couldn't possibly squeeze him out. Because he's in the loveliness as much as he is in the reading of His Word.
It is hard for me, a perfectionist, to learn how to be with Jesus. It is hard for me to know this wanderer who meandered with no to-do list. The one who said, "Beautiful," to the woman who wasted the nard. The one who kept telling his greatness-obsessed followers to become like children.
My children cannot be hurried when they are enjoying something.
I took a deep breath and sat in the blessed shade. The teapot steamed, and I found I was looking with anticipation at the Bible. I wanted to approach it with a soft heart, with a playful spirit, and with the hope that I will never need to hide from it again.
I am trying to learn to savor God's Word, to savor the time I spend in it, and to find God in everything beautiful.
:angel:
Life as a Choose Your Own Adventure Book
Oct 02, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver
You know how, sometimes, when you're talking with a friend for a long time, you can end up talking about something so random, so unrelated to your original topic that you can't help but say, "How on earth did we get HERE?"
I love trying to think back and remember which rabbit trails and diversions landed us smack in the middle of, "Remember that time we took the road trip and lost your car?" when we started the conversation with, "How's the family?" It's as fun as working backward to figure out when I first met a friend or started reading a blog or heard about something or someone that used to be new.
It's interesting and kind of fun to see how one twist, one turn can so drastically change a conversation, a relationship, a life.
—————-
Did you ever read those Choose Your Own Adventure books? I did. Loved them. But I'm not sure I read them the way they were designed to be read.
See, every time I had to make a choice, I either dog-eared the page (sorry, librarians) or simply kept my finger in that spot. That way I could go back after reading one scenario and see what would happen if I took that other road. I liked keeping my options open.
Who am I kidding? I still like keeping my options open.
—————-
After working in my first post-college job for nearly a year, I left to start graduate school. But after one semester I knew that program wasn't right for me at that time, and I resigned my assistantship. My former employer hadn't replace me yet, so after what I jokingly referred to as my sabbatical, I returned to my job.
I'd kept my finger in that spot and went back for a do-over.
So many times since then I've wondered about that string of decisions. Should I have finished graduate school? I never ended up earning my master's degree, after all. Should I have resisted the temptation to return to my job I loved so much? It was never the same after that.
Later I left the ad agency I worked at for a supposedly better position at another, supposedly better agency. It WAS a good job at a good company – but it wasn't for me. My manager was amazing – brilliant, hardworking, on her way up, and willing to mentor young women like myself. I could see that if I stayed there, learning about things I wasn't interested in and working more hours than I was paid for, I would become just like her.
That wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't what I truly wanted for my life. Later, when I was laid off from what I thought would be my dream job full of meaning and accomplishment and work-life balance (is that even a thing?!), I wondered if maybe I'd gotten it wrong.
I could worry myself down that track for all sorts of experiences.
What if I hadn't joined my friends for that church plant (that failed)?
What if I hadn't shared my heart with that friend who misunderstood me?
What if we hadn't bought this house? Or opened that credit card?
What if we hadn't taken that trip? Or started that project?
But the thing is . . . life isn't a choose your own adventure story. We don't get to go back, to do life over, to change our minds, to choose a different adventure.
Or . . . can we?
—————-
Well, not exactly. We can't turn back the clock, change history, or – in most cases – get back that job we gave up. We can't spend our lives regretting our choices, wishing we'd chosen other paths, longing for do-overs.
Life is no choose your own adventure book.
But our God promises to forgive our pasts, our mistakes, our sins. And then? His mercies are fresh – brand new – every morning. And we can rest easy in the peace of a God who has plans – good plans – for us, a God who removes our sins as far as the east is from the west.
And then? Then we can be still and ask Him, "What's our next adventure?"
By Mary, who's spending the 31 days of October giving up on fairy tales – even the kind where you choose your own ending.
:angel:
We Will Reap A Harvest
Oct 03, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Studio JRU
The crop dust fills the air as the combine goes by for another round. I sit and wait for there to be a good stopping point to hand over a quick lunch in the field. With a full heart, I watch my family harvest. It nearly takes my breath away.
I think about the blood, sweat and tears that is in each crop. I can't help but think about the incredible faith it takes to be this caretaker of God's land.
The watching and waiting for all those little seeds. The praying for rain in years when the crops have all but dried up. The praying for no more rain in the years when the fields sit under water for weeks at a time. The praying that nothing more will break down when they are in the middle of planting or harvest and don't have time to stop to fix a tractor or run for a part. The countless hours of work, from sun up and often until well after that sun goes down. They never give up.
What a crazy way of life, but it is what we know. God chose my family to farm... to be caretakers of the land. What an honor.
This autumn month has brought with it the harvest season. There was a time to plant. There was a time to wait patiently with faith. Now is the time to harvest. Harvest always comes.
I think this verse is such a beautiful reminder of harvest for each of us.
Don't give up when the journey seems overwhelming.
Don't give up when your prayers have not yet been answered.
In due time we will reap. Maybe not on our timeline, but in God's own time. We will reap a harvest as long as we persevere. The fruits will be seen and enjoyed in their time. God's blessings overflow!
I would love to share this reminder of harvest with each of you. You can click on the image {a free 5″x7″ PDF printable} and you will be able to open or download it, to then print and use in your own home. Personal use only, please. For those that ask, the print is also available in my shop in an 8×10 size.
In this beautiful autumn season of harvest, how does God just take your breath away?
Created just for you, by Jennifer at StudioJRU.
:angel: :angel:
When Your Bench Represents Pain
Oct 03, 2013 01:10 am | Amy Clary
Community with women can be hard. We're all a jumble of big hearts, emotions, and minds that can remember a long list of wrongs. Some of us approach community with no reserve and others are cautious. Still, we build these places in faith and long for community.
I recently spent time praying for and encouraging someone I know. Her story is one where hurt feelings led her to isolation...and isolation led to hurt feelings as she shooed her community off her bench. While she shared her story with me, I saw her locked away in a secret garden. She had Jesus with her, but had built up walls around her to keep people out.
The sad part is she didn't see the walls of her own secret garden until I gently shed some light on them. And after she ran her hands along the ivy grown on garden walls, feeling the grit of brick below, something in her broke and she was ready to find the door and open it up again.
"I've dusted off my bench and invited her back in" she said in conversation about a friend.
And I prayed. Oh, how I prayed that the invitation would be received well.
But it wasn't.
This bench proved to be too hard to return to. Years upon years of being kept away from it made it painful to even consider...hard to trust.
Life gets gray sometimes, and in that haze we can say or do things that hurt those we've shared a bench with. Suddenly, that welcoming and cozy place can become one that represents pain for those who were hurt.
What now? What do we do with a bench that triggers memories of pain?
In her offering this situation to God, He gently spoke to my friend's heart. "A bench beyond repair won't safely hold community. It's time to build a new one." He encouraged her to begin again, reaching out of isolation for hands to pull her back into community. Then, He perfectly placed hands to hold hers and helped her create a new bench.
She's still prayerful for the restoration of that friendship, an acceptance to her invitation and forgiveness for years of pushing away. I'm praying for that for her, too. But in the meantime, she's learning not to isolate. She's learning to trust God's design of community and knows that isolation only brings more isolation.
Can I encourage you today? If you're finding yourself in the same position as my friend, it's time. It's time to pray and ask God to show you where the walls are in your garden. Ask Him to show you where the key is to the door and then leave the door to that secret, guarded place open. The bricks in the walls are made of the things too hard to admit or too embarrassing to apologize for. They are the "whys" and that's what you need to discover. It's time to let Him heal your heart. It's time to trust Him and His people again, building a new bench and reaching out for hands to hold yours.
God means to restore community for you. He means to take that part of you that you've turned into isolation and turn it for His glory and your good. He means to help you finish the race well with friends who are bosom buddies; girls you can giggle with and love on and cry with. His idea of community is beautiful and trustworthy and all about you. You can trust that.
:angel:
showing myself a little kindness
Oct 05, 2013 01:20 am | Lisa Leonard
My plane landed at 9:30 pm Sunday night. That's 12:30 am on the East Coast and since I'd been soaking up time with my {in}courage sisters all weekend, I had quickly adapted to the different time zone.
I was tired, but determined to make progress toward home. It's a three-hour drive from the Los Angeles airport to our home in San Luis Obispo. I grabbed a coffee, picked up my luggage, hugged my traveling partner good-bye and merged onto the 405 freeway north.
I traveled for a couple hours and started to feel the dark night wooing me to sleep. The smartest thing to do was to stop and get a hotel room, even if only for a few hours of much-needed rest. I pulled off the freeway in Carpinteria, a tiny beach town and checked into a hotel. As I settled into the bed, I felt my body relax and sleep came quickly.
I set my alarm for 6:00 am and as soon as it went off, I hopped out of bed, anxious to get on the road again. I threw on clothes, zipped up my suitcase and grabbed another cup of coffee as I headed out of the hotel and into the parking lot. My keys were already in my hand and I clicked the button to unlock the car.
Nothing happened. I clicked again. And nothing happened. A feeling of dread mixed with panic swept over me. Oh no. No. Ugh.
The car was dead. I figured I must have left the lights on the night before. I was tired and in a hurry to get out of the car. I called AAA and sat down on the curb to wait.
"I'm such an idiot," I told myself.
"I'm so stupid!" I repeated in my head.
Over and over I called myself names and berated myself for my mistake.
If you were there with me and it was your car, I would have told you, "No big deal!"
I'm sure I'd remind you it only set us back half an hour. I would have hugged you and told you not to be so hard on yourself. It was just a small, simple mistake.
But for myself I had no grace, only harsh words and criticism.
I began to wonder, at that early hour, how my perspective would change if I was gentler with myself. What if I showed myself kindness?
"It's okay," I whispered to myself.
"It could happen to anyone," I told my self comfortingly
The sun began to peek over the hillside and cast a soft glow through the trees. I exhaled. The glow of the morning light was breathtaking. Maybe I would have missed the sunrise if I hadn't had to wait for the tow truck to come start my car.
Within a half hour I was on the road, heading towards my family. My head was filled with thoughts of how imperfect life is, and how there is still beauty to be found. I am flawed and yet, I can show myself kindness. I make mistakes, but there is forgiveness.
It's okay to be kind to myself. I want to be gracious instead of critical. Isn't that how Christ is with us?
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end.
They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
Where can you show yourself some kindness today? Where can you replace criticism with grace and forgiveness?
:angel:
He says, "Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth."
Psalm 46:10
:angel:
Leftovers
Oct 08, 2013 01:10 am | Jody McNatt
Rarely are there any leftovers.
The dinner hour screams through and by the time my kitchen closes down for the evening — dishes done, counters wiped, garbage emptied — there's hardly a crumb.
And if there does happen to be an odd bit left, it's usually gone by 9 pm when the bedtime snackers re-enter, re-open and re-mess up said kitchen.
I'd call them mice, but they are teenagers.
And there's absolutely nothing mousey about a teen who grows two inches each day and wears a size 11 shoe. Nothing minuscule about them at all. They don't nibble, they gnaw. They don't scurry, they scavenge. They're not mice, they're mammoths. And, what's more, they bring friends.
With five children in the house, we have no problem getting rid of groceries. Even a trip to Costco isn't enough. I can fill my cart with oversized boxes of everything. One hundred cheese sticks and the XL two-pack of peanut butter should make it through the week. I toss in an 84-count of whatever and feel hopeful piling copious amounts of convenience foods into my cart.
Costco is not for the breezy shopper in espadrilles. Costco is for combat boots. There's no petite packaging; they sell by the vat, the barrel, the bucket-full.
I'm not really worried about the feeding of the five children, though.
I'm wondering what we're pushing around in our lives that never seems like enough.
It's easy to bring what we have to the table and yet still feel insufficient — even insignificant.
Because often what we do bring isn't enough. We try to stretch it by the strength of our own hands and with the power of our positive attitudes, but when we lay it out we're astounded by its diminutive size.
Our stuff can feel like nothing when placed near great need.
Like the boy who had five barley loaves and two small fish in the face of 5,000. It didn't take a disciple to see it wasn't nearly enough. It was too little, laughable, ludicrous right from the start.
Except Jesus was a guest at dinner that day.
And when Jesus is invited to sit at our table He changes proportions.
Jesus multiplies the minuscule.
"Make the people sit down," He said. I can barely get my five to sit still at our table, and yet in one biblical sentence, the disciples seat 5,000 men. Regardless of what Jesus was about to do with bread and fish, His success in seating is miracle enough for this woman.
However, Jesus didn't come to dinner to help with the seating arrangement. He was there to demonstrate a great lesson in what He can do with just a little.
What He can do with our little.
"The boy had five small loaves of barley bread and two small fishes." With 5,000 people to feed, it wouldn't have mattered if the lad had pulled all of Costco out of his pocket. God makes it clear they were small loaves and small fish — breadsticks and minnows, maybe.
But God is in the small things.
He isn't dependent on how much we bring.
He makes much of our meager.
"My grace is sufficient for you ..." 2 Corinthians 12:9
And no matter how little we are, or have, or bring ... He is enough.
But don't skip over the ending. "They filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves which were left over by those who had eaten."
Friends — after feeding 5,000, there were leftovers!
Leftovers!
Jesus is not JUST enough. Jesus is MORE than enough.
:angel:
Every Book Starts With a Sentence
Oct 09, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst
One of the most common things people share with me when they find out I'm an author is that they want to write a book. And I believe they should.
Not everyone will be published but having your thoughts, life lessons, and creative stories captured in a place outside your mind is good. I would treasure one page of wisdom written by my great-grandmother. But all her words died with her. And that makes me sad.
So, if you feel inspired to write – write.
If not a whole book, one page.
If not a whole page, one sentence.
After all, a book always starts with a sentence.
But if you do feel called to write a book, how does one do this? Where do you begin?
For me a book usually begins with paying attention to three things:
• A string of life lessons I'm learning with a common theme
• Conversations I have with others where they bring up this same theme
• A deep conviction that God wants me to park my brain and heart on this topic for a good long while
Then I put these initial thoughts about the theme of the book through a filter of questions:
• Is there an audience (beyond just my mom and my best friend) interested in this theme?
• What problems are these audience members having for which my book could be a possible solution?
• Do I have some fresh, unique, and reliable answers to share that meet the felt need of this group of people?
• Have I struggled enough with this theme to be authentically relatable as I write about it?
• Have I made enough progress in this area to handle the material in a responsible and biblical way?
I use these questions to help me hone the concept of my book. And it's usually in this pondering and questioning of the concept of a possible book that 75% of my possible book ideas die. Because if I can't make it work in the concept phase of a book, I won't stay interested enough in this topic to write 60,000 words.
And heaven help the reader of a book whose author has lost interest in their own material 20,000 words in. Have you ever read a book that started off great but then started boring the mess out of you? Me too. It's disappointing. And it's usually because the author didn't hone their concept enough before jumping into writing the book.
Once the concept is fully explored, it's time to develop the content.
I start with the word count and chapter count. A typical non-fiction book for me is about 60,000 words. I personally like shorter chapters that are pretty consistent in length. So, if my chapters are going to be around 5,000 words... I will need 12 chapters.
As I look at what these 12 chapters will be, I draw a circle with 12 spokes coming out of it. In the circle I write the "focus sentence" of my book. A focus sentence is that one statement that encapsulates the value I want my reader to get from this message.
Note, I didn't say that I write what the book is about. Nope. I write a sentence that reminds me exactly what my reader will get from this message. For example, for my book Unglued, my focus sentence was:
"This book will help a reader make imperfect progress with their reactions and therefore their relationships as they know with confidence how to better handle conflict."
Then I start writing possible chapter ideas that stay very true to this pure focus. I use key words from my focus sentence to seed my chapter ideas and keep me "focused."
So, based on the sentence I shared above, I will come up with some chapter ideas on IMPERFECT PROGRESS, REACTIONS, RELATIONSHIPS, EXTERNAL CONFLICT RESOLUTION IDEAS, and INTERNAL CONFLICT RESOLUTION IDEAS.
Then I start writing. With a sentence. And then another. And another.
And as I write these sentences that form chapters, that eventually form a book, I remember each sentence matters. It's my responsibility to write sentences that are authentic and inspired and true and well crafted. Not English class perfect. More conversational. With threads of personality that clearly demonstrate a consistent voice my readers have come to expect from me.
These sentences, they matter. After all, it's not often whole books that change people's lives, but rather sentences tucked within chapters.
And at the end of the day, that's why I sit at my computer and tap these keys for hours at a time. I love untangling thoughts that might possibly be used by God to help another.
It's a process, this book-writing thing. It's hard and messy and crazy time-consuming. But what a wondrous thing to have words that live on beyond us. Sentences that linger and continue to inspire. Yes, please.
By Lysa TerKeurst
Do you want to write sentences that will change someone's life? Lysa and her Proverbs 31 Ministries team are launching a monthly membership training program called Compel: Words That Move People, to equip you to do just that. Click here to find out more information.
:angel:
Over-Committed
Oct 10, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley
When we were in high school we used to pass notes in class. Remember those? That was well before texting took over.
Sometimes we made it interesting by doing origami-stunts with our notes, writing in the backs of novels we traded back and forth, or once in awhile, we made it our goal to fill in every white space on a piece of notebook paper. We'd write from top to bottom, all the way left to right ignoring the red vertical line down the side of the page. We'd write around the three holes punched and we'd fill it all in with our fifteen-year-old thoughts.
I always think about these notes when I begin to feel like I'm over-committed. I feel like my life (a little like it is right now) is like that side-to-side notebook paper. I've filled in all available spaces with things to do, things to write and things to complete.
The fact is that everyone needs clear, free margins in their lives. My problem is that I'm a work-at-home mother, and so there are no clear boundaries between work and rest or between responsibility and play. I gladly fill in all my margins with stuff and when I run out of room, I try to cram more stuff in.
School volunteering, driving for the field trips, volunteering for the potluck at church, organizing the fundraiser, exercising, leading a table at the mom's group, helping drive carpool, writing blog posts for other people's blogs, and not to mention, doing the work that we do have that really does pay money. Fill in your own blanks; many of us over-commit ourselves.
When we fill in our margins, we have no time to relax, to think, to be creative or to dream. All we do is DO and we don't have any time to BE. And we certainly don't have any time to just rest.
Here are five questions to ask yourself to begin to evaluate if you are over-committed. Chances are, if you are obligated to too much, you already know it.
1. Do I have any time built in to my life to rest?
Ask yourself, do I have any weekly or daily time built into my schedule to break away from commitments and let my brain, body and heart rest? Is my life so filled in that there is no time for that at all?
2. When I am resting am I thinking about other things?
Sometimes when I'm taking a break my mind is racing about all the things I have to do when I'm done "resting." My nap is interrupted by my own brain. When I can't really take a break and be present in my Sabbath, I know I'm doing too much.
3. Do I have trouble saying "no" when someone asks me to do that one extra thing?
Sometimes we are women who can't say "no." And if we are people-pleasers then it's even worse for us. We don't like to disappoint others and say "no." If you are a "yes" girl, you might be doing too much.
4. Does being a part of things make me feel valuable?
This is me. When someone asks me to do something or when I see a need, sometimes the basest part of me wants to be a part just so I can feel valued. It makes me feel better when I'm on leadership for something or I have access to All The Things because I was at the meeting.
5. Do I know myself well enough to make accurate evaluations about my time?
I admit, I struggle here. I want to help and do and be a part so much that I think, "I can do this. I have time." But I really don't. At times it takes my husband or my kids to notice that I'm too busy because I don't have an accurate gauge myself.
If you do find yourself in a place of over-commitment, first think about beginning to practice the word "No" to any new commitments. Then evaluate what you have said "yes" to and see if there is anything you can gracefully and humbly step away from. Consider your emotional and spiritual health in this and prayerfully consider if there are any other people that can step up and fill the void you might be leaving.
Keep white space in your life. Keep your margins clear if you can. And by all means, try to schedule in time for Sabbath.
What about you? Are you over-committed? Do you have trouble saying no?
:angel:
Communion in Mismatched Plates
Oct 11, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
I loved Myquillyn's recent post about the near-extinction of the drop-in visit because it conjured up memories of my greatest fear when we lived in Turkey: the drop-in visit. As a culture that straddles both European and Middle Eastern cultures, unannounced visits were perfectly normal.
In fact, they are considered an honor—it's a great blessing to have guests in your home, so for people to drop by with no warning is to tell you that you are seen as a real friend: hospitable, a soft place to land, worthy of someone else's afternoon.
And I have to admit, that totally stressed me out.
There's layers of psychology behind that, but I won't bore you with it right now. Here's the real reason it was stressful: because I'm a perfectionist in my flesh, and if someone came by unexpectedly, they'd see my laundry piles and encrusted kitchen counters and children with no pants.
I learned to deal, but I can't say I ever succumbed to surprise visits being an honor. But three years later, I can look back and safely say I learned about how I'm made because of that cultural norm, and how God can use my inner driving need for perfection to remind me that He alone is perfect, He orchestrates all things in His goodness, and that I can rest in Him as perfectly loved.
I'm not loved for my near-perfection, and neither are you. We're loved because He is love, plain and simple.
Furthermore—our friends don't love us for our perfection, either. In fact, don't you breathe a little sigh of relief and smile a bit when you come to a friend's house and you witness a peek of their crazy? There's something comforting in seeing reality in others' lives.
When my family goes to a museum-quality house for dinner, I spend most of my time making sure my little kids don't break stuff. When we go to real houses, I let them run off and explore, and I lean back and savor the dinner served on mismatched plates.
Drop-ins don't happen often in the States, but my time in Turkey has taught me to let go of the never-happening ideal of perfection—not only for my own good, but for the good of others. When we let others into our real, imperfect lives, we're inviting them to be their true selves in our presence. And that, friends, is where true intimacy is birthed. That's real friendship, real life, real communion. Our imperfection can remind each other of only-God's perfection.
Let's let down our hair a bit with each other. Let's let people into our real life, our real home, crayoned walls and all.
What imperfection in your life will you embrace this week?
:angel:
Be Present, Even When You're Most Afraid
Oct 12, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray
Like whispers of God in the depths of my heart... Shells uncovered by the storm the night I flew into Georgia wash up onto shore as I walk the morning...
I didn't want to go.
Even though a part of me did.
Back and forth, I couldn't decide.
It was a last-minute decision — whether I should really get on a plane and fly to Savannah, Georgia, to spend time with my (in)courage sisters.
The morning I was supposed to be packing, I laid in bed.
I wrapped the covers around me. I didn't want to go anywhere.
That's what happens when I start feeling anxious. I feel cold. My body is hijacked, preparing for something threatening, and my nervous system gets focused getting ready to take flight or fight.
I feel light-headed.
I don't want to leave the safety of my home. I like being able to just be by myself – or control when I would see people and how I would let them see me.
I didn't want to risk social engagement. I don't have the emotional strength to figure out what to say, to whom, when to say it and how.
It's odd because my therapist tells me this is actually good — not trying to figure everything out.
Being present.
It means moving out of survival mode and allowing myself to be — as is. Thawing out to come alive.
Free to be full as well as broken.
Free to be me.
It would be my first airplane trip in two years. Since I've experienced post-traumatic stress.
Not Okay
I've had a breakthrough earlier this spring.
I began to write about my story stumbling through brokenness and overwhelming stress — in hopes of taking others a journey to discover God's voice in their stories and celebrate the beauty of faith.
And now, that story will be published in a book next summer.
But, my journey of faith has just begun. I need God even more. Every waking moment. Of every day. And every midnight hour I breathe on my bed.
You're not okay, Bonnie. I heard Jesus whisper on my heart.
And that's okay.
I want you to go.
Because I love you.
Just the way you are.
I don't know why, but I just cried and cried and cried when those whispers hit my heart — like the first pelts of rain in autumn dropping from sky onto dirt, dried and cracked, caked over by the summer heat.
I didn't know what would happen if I stepped onto an airplane to go somewhere unfamiliar with so many others. I was scared. But, I wanted to believe God loved me — as is.
So, I dragged myself over to the keyboard, shaking and with lips trembling, I wrote an email to everyone telling them how afraid I was — how I might burst into tears all of a sudden or suddenly get really quiet — but how it's okay if that happens.
It's part of my journey to heal.
I wanted to be present.
Even if it meant I wouldn't be perfect.
I wanted to go.
As I clicked "Send", I knew there was no going back.
Maybe the only way out is ahead.
Even if it means I might fall apart. At least I would fall apart being known — rather than being lonely.
I Couldn't Take It
As I buckled myself into seat 18A on an airplane buzzing, rattling and roaring down a long runway, I closed my eyes and started feeling panic hit the pit of my stomach.
As the plane started shaking, accelerating and slowly starting to tilt my body up, I felt the push of anxiety starting to gather and wind up tight inside me. I covered my eyes and face with my hands and instinctively bent down low, jackknifed with my head leaning towards my chest. But, the anxiety wouldn't stop.
I held my breath waiting for the my body to resolve itself, but the higher the airplane climbed, the more terrified I felt.
I couldn't take it any more and completely became overcome with gut-wrenching sobs, breaking into waves of pouring tears.
I pushed the button for the flight attendant. And asked her through choking tears, Can I have a glass of water? And Kleenex?
I can't hear what you're saying. She couldn't decipher the words I was struggling to get out.
And there I cried in, squeezed in economy class, embarrassed by the sound of my messy unraveling breaths against the thick hum of the flight.
I tell you this story because I learned on that flight what I would have never learned if I did not fall apart with Jesus in that disorienting space between earth and air, praying so desperately – Help. me. Jesus. –
Sometimes, you have to be present.
Even when you're most afraid.
Even if it means you will see a side of yourself that you don't want to see.
Because if you take those reticent steps holding onto Jesus' hand, you will find yourself in His arms if you do collapse.
Sometimes, there comes a time when there is no going back.
Gather Your Courage
You may be looking ahead of you at the next step and it isn't one you want to take either.
But, you also know the journey that's led you to where you stand today isn't one you want to repeat and go down again.
So, you will have to gather the courage you have. Even if it's as small as a mustard seed.
Your courage may feel so tiny, it seems like any sudden gust of wind will blow it out of your grasp.
It's okay. That's how the the Kingdom of God lives inside you.
Jesus will be your courage.
He will be your best step ahead.
Because He loves you.
He. loves. you.
He will never let you go.
Twelve hours later after leaving my house, two airports, a connecting flight, and another car ride, I found myself stepping into the entryway of a beach house on Tybee Island, one carry-on bag and a laptop strapped onto my shoulder.
Hands of friends swooped in to hug me, invisible hands slipped the bags from my body, as I trembled, shook, broke down and fell apart — tears pouring out of every pore in my body. It was there I sobbed as quietly as I could into the arms of sisters and friends, who kept whispering, "You made it. You made it. You made it." Over and again.
And I knew, in the deepest parts of me, the little girl in me who is broken had taken her first steps out into the real world.
She was present.
I don't understand how, but I felt full and broken at the same time.
And it made me feel both sadness and soul-changing beauty.
I was present.
With Jesus.
Are you taking steps out into the world — in a way you never would've chosen for yourself too? Yet, faith is calling you ahead?
Dare yourself to take one step to be present.
Tell someone your fears. Let someone in your journey.
You can start the way I'm doing here. Give yourself permission to write the words you're feeling in your heart. Journal in community. It can be a first step to being present.
Let your voice be heard.
"It is the Lord who goes before you.
He will be with you;
he will not leave you or forsake you."
Deuteronomy 31:6
~~~~~~
Be present now.
Pull up a chair. Click to comment. Let's share.
~~~~~
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith in everyday life.
Looking for some company on the faith journey? Join me as make my way on my blog Faith Barista.
Psst... Do you like to journal your heart? I want to invite you to share your faith journey in community with me through words. I serve up a weekly writing prompt and we swap stories. I've been away recovering, but I'm ready to write together again. Click here to read more. Then, click here to sign up for more information.
:angel:
Five Ways to Make Art in Less Than an Hour
Oct 14, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman
"Find that extra hour or two in the day that belongs to nobody else but you and make it productive. Put the hours in, do it for long enough, and magical, life-transforming things happen eventually."
–Hugh MacLeod, Ignore Everybody: And 39 Other Keys to Creativity
By now you've probably noticed I have a thing for art – both the kind we make with our hands and the kind we live with our lives.
I wrote an entire book about uncovering the art you were made to live because when I talk to people who are made in the stunning and spectacular image of God but genuinely believe they have nothing to offer the world, I get a little twirly inside.
Are you aware of a scrap of a desire deep within you but your first response to it is to toss it aside and label it selfish instead of considering is as sacred?
Or maybe you respect the idea of your art and your desire, but you don't see any tangible ways to practice it at this stage in your life?
We tend to think we have to have weeks to re-charge, endless open days to plan and prepare, a retreat to re-center and re-focus. Those things will help, for sure. If you get them, soak them up and roll around in the blessing of them. But most of us don't have the luxury of wide-open days or weekend retreats on any type of regular basis.
So what's the alternative? Never pursue the art?
What do we do when all the time we get is in whatever drops are left over after wringing out the day? I wouldn't write this if I didn't believe it, but Hugh MacLeod is right: beautiful things happen when we take those drops and begin to fill the bucket.
With the first few small efforts, the bucket still looks empty and I'm tempted to think nothing is happening. But that would be a mistake, because every drop saved is one drop closer to full.
It's true, "full" may not mean fame or attention or accolades. But if you're open to it, it might just be the first important step to becoming more fully yourself.
Here are 5 ways to begin to fill the bucket in less than an hour:
1. Consider the gifts where you are right now and use your time to write them down.
2. Write (paint, play, bake, create) for 30 minutes. Reject every temptation to believe you are wasting your time.
3. Dare to believe you have something to say and say it out loud.
4. Sit in the quiet just because. A lot more may happen there than you might think.
5. Don't try so hard to block out the critical voice. Take some time to listen and decide if it's true. If it isn't? Dismiss.
Do the work you love when the early morning lifts up her head with a smile and a high-pitched song. Sit at the table and make your art when the evening sky fills up the yard right outside your window. There is no formula and there is no wrong. There is only you, showing up as the person you already are, willing to offer whatever you have, no matter how small.
Go make some art today.
It's not to late to join the Bloom Book Club! We'll be reading A Million Little Ways together starting October 21. Visit the Bloom book page for all the details. If you don't have a book yet, you may also want to enter your name for the chance to win one. Winners announced on Wednesday – Details on the Bloom book page.
:angel:
Hanging on The Edge of Community
Oct 15, 2013 01:10 am | Tonya Salomons
The sun had slipped beneath the waves, the glorious pinks and oranges lighting the sky. It was as if God had taken up finger painting and the pale blue was His canvas. All of it a stark contrast to the dark shadows that lurked in the corners of her heart.
She sat at the mouth of the river, overlooking the lake, on an out-cropping of rocks. Beneath her was a firm and solid foundation yet she couldn't help but feel as if she were perched on the edge of a cliff.
She was familiar with faith, familiar with the born-again, come to Jesus moments that dotted her past. She would even tell you, despite her current state of mind, that she believed in the sacrifice of a good Savior. What she wouldn't tell you is that with each declaration of bravado she built walls of pretense, only as a means of protecting her from the very thing that hurt her the most – community.
She wouldn't tell you about the times when criticism bit and feelings of inadequacy were fed by the remarks of "you're not good enough, we're going to ask you to step down." She wouldn't tell you that in her desire to be loved, to belong, she thought she had to earn her place in the Body of Christ.
She wouldn't tell you about the Sunday she left, tears streaming down her face, after someone in leadership publicly addressed her inadequacies. How in that moment the church door slammed shut and her mind became closed to community.
For a while she was okay with that. For a while she would make up the excuses and find the millionth reason why staying in bed on a Sunday morning was better than darkening the door of a church.
But on that hot summer day God's creation began to woo her back from the edge. She knew she had to dig in and find her way back to Him or let herself fall into "as good as it gets," choosing a life without faith, without community.
She felt the breath of the Holy Spirit and heard the question that needed to be asked, "Do you want to be saved?"
Just like God called the dry bones to life through Ezekiel, she could no longer ignore the fire in her own bones. She couldn't ignore the fact that the brittle and dusty parts of her could actually live again. With a hesitant voice and eyes wet she whispered, "Yes," to her Creator.
And as that final crescent of sun kissed the water, she knew that her path had only just begun.
She knew God had destined her for community. Knew she needed friends, a stalwart of soul sisters to help her recapture her dreams, to surround her in the times when doubt's screech is louder than the faint heartbeat of her desires.
God was working in her life to bring her to a place where relationships would be built on nothing more than the beauty of each person's story. Friends who would press in close and whisper fears to each other. Companionship, where tears would be collected and held in trust until their prayers, the sister lament, could fill each person to the brim with His purpose for their lives.
God used that moment to show her that salvation happens in the middle of community. Soul food is served in the middle of community. Healing happens in the middle of community.
God showed her that she belonged in community.
:angel:
Find a Safe Place. Be a Safe Place.
Oct 16, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp
I sit in a circle, head bowed, as three friends pray over me. Warm tears run down my face and I instinctively struggle to hold myself together, but I come undone and won't let go of these hands that grip mine.
Why did I have to travel away from home to friends who usually smile at me across a screen instead of across a table to come to this point, to feel the healing power radiating through this circle of women?
Because I haven't allowed myself a safe place.
No matter how put together we may look on the outside, we all experience dark times. Job loss. Illness. Struggling marriages. Broken dreams. Sometimes the problems aren't ours, but belong to someone close to us and we suffer for them.
We aren't made to handle this alone. Our Lord is a present friend and a ready ear. Trust Him. But seek a steady shoulder to cry on and a sympathetic friend to listen face-to-face.
For some this may come easily, but for others—like me—this level of vulnerability simply doesn't.
Find a Safe Place
Look for someone you trust, who won't judge or gossip. Maybe a wise older woman at church who's survived your stage of life and learned valuable lessons in the process. Maybe a long-distance friend with an outsider's perspective.
Just talk to someone.
Be a Safe Place
It would be easier if we wore signs around our necks, visible testimony to the struggles we face. But we don't.
So we need to work hard to read each other's signs.
When your girlfriend casually suggests a girls' night out this week, her calm tone may belie how desperately she needs some face-to-face girl time. Kind words and a sincere "How are you?" may provide the impetus for a much-needed conversation.
Be a safe place for friends who need to talk.
Do you have a safe place? How can we read each other's signs and provide a safe place?
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
I Choose the Necklace
Oct 17, 2013 01:10 am | Katie Kenny Phillips
Crocodile tears, these were not.
These were leaky eyes. Panicked eyes. The visit to the dentist for this little one had not gone as planned.
It first involved x-rays that mama bear had to put an end to. Then the scraping. And the electric tooth brushing. It tickled, in that uncomfortable way. I felt his pain as I held his sweaty, stressed-out, clenched hands in mine.
All this and finally clean teeth.
But there was hope in the goodie bag. The prize: a gold token. In the hand of this babe, he looked like a gambling man upon seeing the Vegas strip for the very first time.
The prize machine held so many choices. He popped in the token and out dropped a necklace.
I learned later that he had chosen the necklace on purpose. He'd seen a boy at some time, somewhere, who had one. It was as if wearing a necklace was my son's newest and most passionate aspiration.
It was a tiny, delicate, beautiful cross.
He gasped. It was magnificent.
We made our way to the car, having affixed the new precious possession around his neck. He began babbling immediately, which was no surprise, but his words turned spiritual before the door slid closed.
"You know what I love most in the world, Mom?" he asked. One could only guess with that child, as this topic has ranged from diving boards to honey mustard to Mom to his kazoo.
No, baby, what do you love most?
"God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. And this necklace."
I laughed. So sweet, that one. Leave it to a freshly cried-out four-year-old to turn a traumatic visit to the dentist into a holy love-fest. How he could so quickly forget was beyond me.
As I drove home, I shook my head thinking back to a time not too many years back when the oldest one was deathly afraid of the water. I found the best swim instructor with the best references. And that boy cried the entire lesson, screaming "I'm drowning!" while his mama hid in the bushes, silently crying herself.
As soon as the excruciating 20 minutes were over I met him at the pool's edge. He smiled at me. "Well, that was fun," he said. "Seriously?" I wanted to yell. "What lesson were you at? I just had a heart attack listening to this one right here!"
But these responses–such simple, turn-of-the-heart responses–revealed something deep. Something was hard. Then it was beautiful.
I've cried and fussed my way through plenty. There was a recent season of my life when we were waiting on a test result for the middle one and I thought I would all but explode in the waiting. But I wandered and worried and wondered until all of a sudden it was over. It was hard. And then it wasn't. But did I ever stop and think something like, "That was ridiculously difficult but gosh, this is a pretty necklace"?
I struggle. We struggle. In the water, in the chair. With our writing. In relationships. With our Father.
But then we don't.
And we have something beautiful to show for it–whether it's a thing, a confidence or just the flat-out assurance that there is, in fact, another side in all this and we can make it.
There could be something to these teary, panicked-eyed souls who can suffer, then take a token and turn it into a gift.
I want that. I choose that. I choose the tears and the panic. And then, thanks be to God, I choose the necklace.
:angel:
Stop Apologizing for Who You Are
Oct 18, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth
Stop trying to downplay your gifts.
Stop trying to minimize your successes.
Stop trying to skim over your strengths with, "Oh, that was nothing."
It was not nothing.
It was the spark of God within you.
It was who He created you to be shining bright.
It was what He called you to do coming forth into the world.
Don't listen to the whiners, the discouragers, the critics, the-good-in-your-life-makes-me-feel-bad-crowd.
You have nothing to be sorry for, sister.
Those things aren't a reason for an apology–they're reasons for gratitude, celebration, and praise.
Hold your head high. Keep that joy in your heart. Let your light shine.
It's the proper response to what God has done (and is doing) through you.
And if anyone tells you to tone it down–they can take it up with Him.
XOXO
Holley Gerth
Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. Matt. 5:16
:angel:
When She Looks Like Jesus
Oct 19, 2013 01:20 am | Amber Haines
Once she loved me. She had held my face and known me like a mother knows a child: the smirk, the thumb smearing dirt from the face, leaning her forehead into mine. She was with me. She put her hand on my back and prayed for me deep. She made a home for me, served hot bread and good wine, but it's been a long time.
Our baby has been sick again, and I've travelled. I've fallen in love with Jesus' people from all over. My brothers and sisters here have had to divide and conquer. I don't have a group here anymore. On Sunday mornings, I've gone back to her, and when she opened the door, she didn't know my name, and I had a hard time recognizing her face.
I haven't known how to find my way back home.
—
Waking in the morning, waiting for the coffee, I'm not sure the exact thing that makes me so angry. It feels chronic, like green eyes and Scottish blood. My heart beats like stomping feet. I pour the drink and go to the quiet room for my routine time alone, my quiet time. I've said that I'm not afraid anymore. I threw fear off like an ugly coat. I'm afraid my fear turned to anger. I peal it back – down to the anger. Down to the fear beneath. The fear that always, every single time, opposes love.
—
This pilgrim thing is not my favorite part.
I cling to the ones who share my strange taste in music. I cling to those of you who write in the same vein. I touch the spines of my favorite books like pictures of old friends. Once a couple asked why I don't ever just write what I mean. I cling to you okay with the I-don't-knows. I keep kilter with the ones who are a little off a rocker, more comfortable on porches with ashtrays and melting ice cubes.
I don't belong here. I'm the girl from the woods with a Bible in her hand, and I don't always understand why I don't much feel at home.
I walk with Jesus, and the more I do, the more homesick I am. Are you a wanderer, too?
—
I have friends who have never understood the struggle with love for church. I'm not sure people understand that I don't mean THE church. The picture I have of the spotless bride of Christ (she is me), and then that after party? Oh I am so good with that. I love her now and forever. It's just the going to church thing, like it's a place on a mountain where God hovers like a cloud.
Church is not what happens on Sunday mornings, is it? Is it?
Maybe it is. Maybe that's a big part of it. Maybe I wanted it to be the whole. Maybe I wanted Sunday mornings to mean nothing at all.
—
If a hammered dulcimer plays, you can guarantee that my husband and I are about three seconds from a good lip quiver, because hammered dulcimers sound like Rich Mullins, and his music points home. At church, Josh had the dulcimer, and Seth had guitar, and then Shelly put her hands in the air exactly how I know we'll all be doing when we see Jesus face to face. We were throne-room singing. That's usually why I go.
When I first sat down, I looked around and saw in the sea of people only two that I know. But next to me were two of the only people of color in the room. At the awkward meet-and-greet part, I couldn't place her accent, but she's not from anywhere close to here. I wondered how far away from home she felt, her Spirit-Filled Bible in her lap. I felt close to her.
On my other side came to sit one of our elders, and he is one of those tender-tough ones, looks like he could beat your face in or kiss it – either one. When we sang our Rich Mullins, he might have been deaf for the tones, but he sang like he had written every word. I fell in love with him there, a man who is tender-tough. When I turned to him at the awkward meet-and-greet, he said my name and asked of my sons.
—
I was angry because church hasn't felt like home in a long time. I'm starting to think it was never meant to feel like home, not any more than Rich's music and my Mama's banana pudding. But at church, when I got Titus early from nursery, and I asked the people in the back to pray, he limped his unfed body into mine like he would fall asleep. They gathered around us, and one whispered over us in praise. One said Jesus is Healer; that is His name. One said Seth and I were brought together to bring forth a godly generation. One prayed against the fear and brought the Bible verses out. They put their hands on my back, called me Moses.
Once in a while you find yourself in the arms of your broken church, and she looks exactly like THE church, and THE church looks like Jesus. It's worth pressing on, going to commune with the homesick ones, going to find a hand to hold, a bag to carry, wine to taste.
I am a pilgrim, and I get so homesick.
Little church, you don't have to know my name to be beautiful. I just want to see Jesus. Let me be like the child to you.
Suffer me not.
:angel:
On being impatient for healing
Oct 21, 2013 01:20 am | Arianne Segerman
I've been blessed in the area of broken bones and large puncture wounds. What I mean is, I haven't broken anything but my pinky toe, and I've never required stitches. I sprained my ankle once, I've had shin splints and I gave birth five times. So, I know what it feels like to wait on your body to heal, and not be able to speed anything up.
In fact, I've heard that a sprained ankle can take longer than a broken ankle to heal, depending on the injury, so it makes sense why I have such a distinct memory of being about 13 or so and feeling like I would never walk again. The healing took so very long, I often thought perhaps it wasn't healing at all. Any small improvement that I made disappeared inside that worry-lens that I looked through. I couldn't see any good that had happened because I completely focused on what I still couldn't do.
I often look at how God made our physical bodies and ponder the metaphor that we humans are. We are in His image, we are a reflection of the One who created us, as well as a reflection of Creation itself. Every wild and crazy physiological thing I learn about the human body and how each part functions astounds me because I know there is some beautiful way that the natural is symbolic of the supernatural.
So it is with waiting on a physical injury to heal. The way we heal slowly, from the inside out. The deeper the gash in my arm, the longer until I will no longer feel pain. Even longer until I will no longer notice the scar. Our skin layers heal inside first, the outside being the very last thing to heal. Isn't that exactly how our soul heals, too?
Even now, I am in a season of healing long-standing brokenness in my life and in my heart. Just like I remember feeling that ankle sprain take forever, and often seem like it wasn't healing at all, I keep stepping back into impatience. I want to feel all better now, God, why is it so slow?
I have that lens on, the one that makes me see everything in a scarcity way. The one that makes me view life as everything I do not have. I do not have a history of healing. I have a history of pain. Healing happens eventually, but so slow you can't even tell. But really, none of that is true at all. Those are the lies of that incorrect lens.
Our healing is sometimes like the turning of the earth. We always know it's happening – night comes, the sunrise comes again. God is knitting together each layer of healing, slowly, slower even than I would like. But I can look back and see how many days and nights have passed already. I'm always bending towards healing.
If you find yourself in a season of healing, but not quite sure what is taking so long — this is for you. I feel like it could be talked about a little bit more – that the healing sometimes takes a while. Sometimes God swoops in and instantly, miraculously fixes a situation. Sometimes God quietly and miraculously and eventually fixes a situation. None is less a miracle. None is accidental.
I can wait on you, Lord. Give me your lens, that I might be steadfast in healing. Give me the freedom to exist wholly in this place, with the wound healed a little, but not all the way. Let me rejoice in each layer of healing. Let me rejoice.
***
By Arianne Segerman, of Mabel + Riv
:angel:
Why You Should Smile Right Now...
Oct 22, 2013 01:20 am | Ann Voskamp
When a nurse calls early and says she has the results of the chest x-ray, I'm standing in the kitchen.
A kitchen of muffin tins and cracked eggs and two frying pans and the bacon already gone.
She puts me on hold to get the file.
I scratch away at the glass splattered stovetop with a razor, as if there's this way — this way to cut things right down to the bone.
The nurse gets back on the phone and talks about those x-rays I had over the weekend and I'm wondering why in the world getting breakfast for three starving teenagers, two bottomless boys and a curly-haired tomboy, and a hard-working Dutch farmer, leaves one kitchen looking like something eggy and oiled exploded volcanic?
This stovetop is going to need more than a razor.
"But your doctor looked at them this morning and it look's like, from your chest x-rays..."
Who let porridge crust like a fossil formation to the side of the counter? And why pile plates in the sink like these sticky skeletal remains?
"It looks like you have pneumonia."
And I stop... look up and out the window. Look out across the weedy tomatoes. Out to the corn leaves all chaffing in the wind.
If the joy of the Lord is my strength — if the joy of the Lord is my strength, the oxygen that keeps me standing —
why do I deprive myself of joy's oxygen?
"Why deprive myself of joy's oxygen?
The swiftness and starkness of the answer startle.
Because you believe in the power of the pit.
Really?
Do I really smother my own joy because I believe that anger achieves more than love?
That Satan's way is more powerful, more practical, more fulfilling in my daily life than Jesus' way? Why else get angry?
Is it because I think complaining, exasperation, resentment will pound me up into the full life I really want?
When I choose — and it is a choice — to crush joy with bitterness, am I not purposefully choosing to take the way of the Prince of Darkness?
Choosing the angry way of Lucifer because I think it is more effective — more expedient— than giving thanks? than living joy?"
~ One Thousand Gifts
My chest hurts.
Braced against the counter, I hack-cough like I'm hoping something in me might break — like the hardest places.
"So your doctor would like if ..." I cradle the phone, stack the dirty bowls so I can fill the sink with hot water.
Cynicism isn't strength and ranting doesn't rejuvenate and frustration can never accomplish what Faith can.
Does my life testify to my belief in the power of complaint — or the power of Christ?
"The doctor would like if he could get this turned around for good this time...."
And I'm nodding.... it's so time to be well.
If neither height nor depth nor death nor anything in heaven or earth can separate me from the love of God — surely neither can messy bedrooms or dirty sinks or loud kids or ugly days separate me from the joy of the Lord.
Really — if nothing can separate me from the Love of the Lord — can anything separate me from the Joy of the Lord? Breathe.
"So the doctor's set up a treatment plan for you...."
And the cough gives way to this happy relief.... I can feel it — A smile is where the first strong surrender to His will and His joy begins.
Why let anything steal your joy?
If the Joy of the Lord is my strength, then why let anything steal my strength?
The Joy of the Lord is our strength — and anger leaves everyone weak.
The corn out the window — the chaffing of the leaves, it could be strings of something like a song. And the clattering of plates, it could be a chorus, the water running — and why not laugh and why not breathe? Why let the naysayers say there's not enough reasons to enjoy right now?
I wash dishes. Scrape off the stove. Go fill a prescription. Change the laundry. Read aloud to the kids. Hack-Cough. Heave. Straighten. Step over the mess. Breathe. Smile.
Smile.
Let something steal your joy — and you let something steal your strength.
And it comes — the lungs healing, the oxygen filling.
-with love for you by Ann Voskamp
Q4U: What's stealing your joy right now? Distractions? Fear? Busyness? Stress? Worry? Anger? Is it worth it? What if you tried the Smile Project: Smiling every time you felt something stealing your joy? What's keeping you from joy right now in your life? How could that change?
Will you join in the conversation here? (Email and RSS Readers — come join the conversation here?)
:angel: :angel:
Cliques and Community
Oct 22, 2013 01:10 am | Tracee Persiko
Recently I sat at a Starbucks watching a group of high school girls hang out. I listened as they talked about their day, and thought, "You know... Nothing has really changed about the conversations and topics of high school."
We are a culture that operates out of created groups. We learn how to belong through gravitating toward like-minded people. Every high school has the same social groups now as they did 15 years ago when I was there.
We called our like-minded group of friends our community, but in reality they were cliques. There is a distinct difference. Cliques do not allow room for community.
I watched these girls and laughed because my friends now are so different. My closest friends are made up of a mismatched group of gifts, personalities, fears, looks, and passions. One of my closest friends and I joke all the time that we would not have been friends in high school. Our "reputations" and judgments would not have let that happen.
Community ceases to be community when it becomes a clique.
There is no room for community in a clique. Cliques are closed to anyone new joining in. Cliques enforce a hierarchy of judgment someone needs to pass in order to be allowed in. You essentially have to "try out" to be a part of a clique.
It makes me sad when I see cliques in the Church. Clique mentality has no room in the community of the Church body. We are all made in His image. We are all invited to walk a life journey with the same God.
Look at the disciples.
Some would say that the twelve disciples were a clique. I would say that they were the first real community. Look at the mixed match-up of those guys! The community of disciples consisted of different personalities, passions, interests, looks, temperaments, gifts, strong wills, extroverts, introverts, popular, and the loathed. There was no reason these guys should've been doing life together! They didn't make sense to be together as a group.
But isn't this true community?
Community is made up of all of those who are trying to do life well, and follow after the same invitation to do life with Him.
Community takes a chance on people. Community sees and invites the heart of another to be known and loved.
What are your thoughts on community?
What makes community for you?
:angel: :angel:
Why Don't They Just "Get" Me?
Oct 29, 2013 01:10 am | Claire Necessary
Relationships of ALL types grow our faith. I was recently reminded of this as I sat listening to a diverse group of women share their hearts in my church's community group. God continues to show me the power of community, particularly the kind that happens without my manipulation and control. I was shown that I serve a God who is far bigger than my tiny homogenous world I try to construct.
Why do I put my energies into creating an inner circle of "perfect" friends so that I can live in a Christian version of a TV show where everyone effortlessly shares all of life's intimate moments from the sacred to the hilarious? I can easily convince myself that the Gospel has something to do with being surrounded by people who are exactly like me. I don't think we can escape living in a broken world, but I want to wade through this life with people who have the same budget as me, have kids the same age, and have the same sense of humor and style. They must also duplicate the exact same beliefs as me. Their theology, language, and Christian sub-culture must mimic mine. I simply want it to be easy.
It is a fact that God made us for community. We all desire to be accepted and we all have needs that are met through relationships in our lives.
But there is this blurry line that is hard to see when we cross it. There's this place we can end up where we have shut out people that God places in our paths for specific reasons, whether to be an influence or to grow us. When you surround yourself with people who are just like you, you are validated, praised, and admired just the way you want to be. But I am seeing that God leads people into our lives for His purpose, not our own.
Recently, new relationships in my life are with people who are not just like me. They have different backgrounds, beliefs, ways of life, and priorities, and many are in a different season of life. I find myself struggling to relate. I want them to "get" me without putting in effort. I want to halfway explain something and then say "y'all know what I mean" and have them automatically and thoroughly understand the depths of my soul. This limits spiritual, emotional, and mental growth.
Isn't it better to allow ourselves to be stretched and to allow God to show us things through others who have seen life through a totally different lens? Knowing where people are entails us actually taking the time to get to know them, and then caring enough not to force them to see things our way. When I do this, I am changed.
In this small group of women, I hear someone praying in a foreign language and am reminded that God hears the prayers of all his children around the globe. I witness the excitement of new believers, and, thankfully, it rubs off on me.
Above all else, we are to love one another. I am trying to follow this simple command and not whine when no one in my life "gets" me. Whether or not it conveniently fits into the screenplay I've naïvely written for my life, that is not really the point of it all. I am called to love my neighbor, no matter who they are. The miracle is that I end up on the receiving end as well, oftentimes receiving more than I give.
:angel:
Simply Beautiful :: Guest Post by RoseAnne Coleman
Nov 01, 2013 01:10 am | RoseAnne Coleman
As I read Emily P. Freeman's newest offering, A Million Little Ways, I was amazed that such a young woman (under a century old) could have such a wise soul. I'll wager that Ms. Emily was surprised herself as God poured His light through her words like water flowing to the ocean. That is what our Father does through us.
Many restrict Art in their lives due to the fear that form will not match the Inspiration.
However, when the glass becomes more important than what fills it, that is takes the roller out of coaster—no stomach-stealing thrills, no brave hands untethered, no desire for another ride right now. Who would want to ride a coaster without the roller!
Inspiration is Pure Light; form, the rainbow prism shinings. Artistry comes in all kinds of packages. We just need to look for it and allow Art to beam through our pane, inspiring us first, then inspiring and encouraging others.
Although I recognize some of my gifts, organization is not one. However, this week I was hit with a double whammy—two out-of-state visitors arriving, my guest bedroom and library looking like a "dirty clothes/scraps of paper/last year's unused Christmas cards newly promoted" bomb exploded, filling each room knee-deep in—Aw, you get the picture.
However, two gifted friends came to my door, a rescue party of two. Suzanne and Donna arrived and created the most beautiful art amidst disaster zones. To my astonishment, they even were laughing, having the best time visiting while establishing order and peace in my home, one shovelful at a time.
Order from chaos–socks in drawers, books in library, office supplies on shelves where others of their kind had already been placed during a previous rescue party.
"How beautiful the hands that serve/The wine and the bread" to RoseAnne in her home"– (Paris, Twila. "How Beautiful," elyrics.net)
A Rescue Party of Two—the beautiful, artful hands of Christ to me.
I witnessed another example of two amazing people allowing God to show His living/breathing art through their lives as believers, as a couple, and as the parents of SIX children.
Bearing no offspring of my own, I didn't know what to expect from a supper table ringed with kids from 14 to two. I first noticed the artful way their mother, Sandy, handled the flow of bodies through her kitchen with the ease of an air traffic controller; all the while kindly and attentively asking questions about my life, while finishing supper prep for nine.
"We are having Mexican, since I knew you liked it," Sandy softly said with a little shoulder shrug shyness. I marveled at this homeschooling mother's ability to order her moments as I eyed the freshly baked cake and beautifully browned enchiladas on the stove, accompanied by beans and rice, corn and salad—along with children who were clothed, asking questions about my travels, filling cups, helping with the smallest diners.
After a sweet blessing from the littlest one and added on to by Luke, the dad, Sandy began to serve plates. I noticed the children's waiting to eat. Luke explained, "We decided to have everyone wait to eat until Sandy has served all and has her food, too. If we didn't, Sandy wouldn't even eat a bite before being asked for seconds."
Hungry kids waiting to eat? No whining about being starved, wanting Mom to just hurry up?!
The beauty of respecting their mom and wife by delaying their own satisfaction was dazzling.
Later, after clearing supper from the table and Sandy's making fresh whipped cream for dessert topping, we all dug into delicious, white peaked pumpkin cake. Luke and Sandy talked to me about their deepest desires to love and serve Jesus well in how they raise their children, in how they live every moment. Even in the most beautiful cathedral with pooled stained glass light beams, I could not have been more inspired by the Body of Christ than that night with this family of eight who struggle every day for the means to support them all but are intentional in joy and godliness–in the midst a family of eight.
It is so clear Sandy and Luke want to find beauty, allow beauty, invite beauty even to the most meager of moments to see Jesus themselves, to show Jesus to their six children, to be Jesus to me–and now to you, Friend.
Beautiful Rescue Party of two.
Beautiful enchiladas.
Beautiful marriage.
Beautiful kids.
Simply beautiful.
RoseAnneColeman :: Let's be Facebook friends!
* * * * *
:angel:
Gifts of Gratitude: (in) Classics
Nov 02, 2013 01:20 am | incourage
Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly
as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom
through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit,
singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.
And whatever you do, whether in word or deed,
do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus,
giving thanks to God the Father through him.
Colossians 3:16-17
As we enter this season of busy-ness and plans, let's take a moment to reflect on the reason for the upcoming holidays and all the days in between. Let us take time to remember that all good things come from above and thank our God for all things and in all things.
We've gathered a few (in)courage classics about gratitude and thanksgiving for you this weekend. Enjoy!
——————–
How to Give Thanks Like an Artist by Emily Freeman
When we write, we remember. When we read our own words, we understand. But when someone else reads words we wrote, we come alive. In this time of year for thanks and for giving, be thankful for your art. Be graceful in the giving of it.
My New To-Do List by Jennifer Schmidt
There are so many things to do today as I rush to ready ourselves for our grand feast: a feast to feed the tummies of so many of our loved ones. Yet as I rush, shop, clean, cook, bake, and referee, sometimes I forget to just breathe, and savor the moments we are creating.
While I want to feed tummies, more importantly, my desire is to feed souls.
When You Don't Want to Say Thanks by Tsh Oxenreider
You know the only way I'm able to change my attitude from grumbling to grateful when I just don't feel like it?
I just choose to say thanks. I don't wait for my emotions to change.
Little Things by Angela Nazworth
I have found that the more time I take to bask in simple pleasures and to give thanks for the seemingly ordinary, the richer my life becomes ... or rather, the more equipped I am to understand and appreciate the riches I've been given.
On Being Thankful by Heather
In this seasons of "firsts" when everything around me tells me that I have nothing to be thankful for, I look back and remember all of the blessings that have been bestowed on me, despite the heartache that has come my way. I remember the words of my Father and smile...
"These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace.
In the world you have tribulation, but take courage;
I have overcome the world."
John 16:33
Because Thanksgiving is More Than a Holiday by Ann Voskamp
Stress decreases by half – simply by multiplying our thanks. Why in the world don't we do this?
It wasn't complicated. It wasn't easy.
It was beautiful, the way thanksgiving gave us our lives back.
——————–
For more seasonal posts, check out the "Seasonal" tab on the front page of the (in)courage site, as well as in the sidebar of the blog!
What are you thankful for this season?
:angel:
Living a Life That Matters
Nov 04, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Mae
You can't go back.
The days roll forward with indifference; it's up to you to make them count. It's up to you how you shape and stretch the hours to form the life you choose to live.
"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." Annie Dillard
Your children are at your mercy with their hours and their days and their mornings and their nights. You are the god of their time. Are you digging your fingers into the clay that is the moments and molding something worth keeping?
How are your days?
Yes, you're tired, I know. Some days you wish you could just have clear direction; you wish that the voice of the One would speak louder the voices of those who you aim to please. You want to please Him, but those voices...that person who you feel like you must live up to, or offer defense of your choices, or feel unworthy compared to them. If you just knew what to do, or what was pleasing to God, or who to listen to, you'd follow. In the depths of your heart you're surrendered to the man who hung on the cross. The man who says, "Anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple."
You want to follow; you want your days and the hours to matter. You want to push out the voices and cling to the One voice that matters. You want to live well and have integrity.
Here's how you live a life that matters:
You choose surrender to the cross. You stop trying; you surrender.
You count the cost of your "yes." The yes to surrender, the yes to the Bible study or the book club or the blog or travel or alone time or...
Every "yes" has a cost that a wise person must weigh.
"For which one of you, when he wants to build a tower, does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if he has enough to complete it?" Luke 14:28 (NASB)
The only "yes" you should give without reserve is that to serve for Christ's sake. The cross is heavy and painful and blood-stained. If you choose it, you choose surrender. You choose to serve and to lay down.
"Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple."
Luke 14:33 (MSG)
We must not love anything or anyone more than Jesus. But I believe that when we love Him above all, esteem Him above all, and surrender to Him before all, He will to mold our moments.
He will knead and roll and create beauty and life out of this clay, the clay that can only but be still before Him.
Let Him mold you and your days. Whisper off your mornings to Him, being conscious that you will accept the shape He gives. Say yes to Him, and guard your "yes" otherwise. Count the cost of your "yes." Serve. And by the way, serving doesn't mean you do more. When you serve "the least of these" you are serving Jesus. I think for many of us, the "least of these" is the eternal ones in our care. Don't forget to serve your family.
"The dedicated life is the life worth living. You must give with your whole heart." -Annie Dillard
What are you dedicated to? Do your hours match that dedication?
By Sarah Mae
P.S. Today I am re-releasing my eBook, More Than Candy: A 25-Day Countdown that Counts. It's about doing work that matters during the advent season...it's about making a difference to the "least of these." The first 100 people to purchase it (it's only $4.99 on either Kindle or as a PDF) get the DaySpring Redeemed Christmas Countdown Chalkboard for FREE. I'm also giving away a Willow Tree Nativity from DaySpring. Head HERE to check it out!
:angel:
Afraid to Turn the Next Corner
Nov 05, 2013 12:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst
You know how some people love the thrill of being surprised? They love surprise parties. They would love to show up at work today and be told they are actually going on a surprise vacation and be whisked from their desk to paradise in just a few hours.
They would love to have one of those makeover shows show up at their house with a film crew and be told they're getting a whole new wardrobe.
Surprises feel thrilling to them. Like the thrill some people get when a roller coaster ride you thought was over suddenly takes off again and starts doing upside down loops. They throw their hands in the air and embrace the thrill of the unknown.
They call that fun.
I don't.
I love a good birthday party. But I don't want it to be a surprise.
I love a good vacation. But I don't want it to be planned for me.
I love winning stuff and would freely accept a gift certificate for a new wardrobe. But I don't want all the clothes to be picked out for me.
I like (not love) a roller coaster. I don't mind when it finally crests the lift hill and then careens downward like the bottom just fell out of the world. But I don't want it to take unexpected twists and turns.
This dislike of surprises can usually be managed with all the things I mentioned.
My friends know not to throw me a surprise party. No one is looking to give me a surprise vacation or new wardrobe. And before getting on a roller coaster, I thoroughly check it out and know its patterned route.
But life is different.
Life twists and turns and throws loops into those places we think will be flat and smooth. Because that's what life does. Sometimes it all just catches us off guard.
And at the end of the day, I guess that's why I don't like to be surprised. I can't stand to get caught off guard. It makes me feel exposed and afraid.
But slowly, I'm learning it's not all bad to be a little exposed and afraid.
That vulnerable place reminds us we have needs beyond what we manage. It reminds us we need God. Desperately. Completely.
And into that gap between what we can manage on our own and what we can't, that's right where faith steps in and has the opportunity to find deep roots. Roots that dig down and break up previously unearthed places within us.
My faith doesn't just need to grow big, it needs to grow deep. Yes, I need deep faith roots.
Deep roots anchor us when surprises blow like strong, unruly winds.
Deep roots hold us steady during the next storm that didn't show up on the radar.
Deep roots find nourishment when the surface gets awfully dry.
Deep roots allow for growth not previously possible.
Deep roots yield rich fruit.
So, I'm learning to not be so afraid of what might be around the next corner. Even if it does catch me off guard. I close my eyes and whisper... "deeper still."
"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit," (Jeremiah 17: 7-8 ESV).
By Lysa TerKeurst
If you're looking for encouragement to grow deeper faith roots, check out Lysa's book, Unglued. Click here to purchase your copy.
:angel:
Lessons From a Tenderhearted Father
Nov 05, 2013 12:10 am | Kendra Duty
There are many days when I feel overwhelmed being a mom of three young children. Of course they bless my heart in so many ways, but I feel emotionally weighed down on the demanding days of discipline, mediating disputes and constant shepherding. My heart breaks when I see my childrens' sin running rampant, an abundance of offenses that affect everyone –especially me.
The majority of outward sinfulness exudes from one child in particular. He is a walking, talking cloud of simultaneous joy, strife, fun and sin. We've found him in a variety of precarious situations ranging from walking outside by himself three doors down the street (a 3-year-old escapee!) to chasing his siblings around with scissors trying to cut them. When he gets upset, he runs to his room, slamming the door. Then, when he is good and ready, he will come out screaming with joy, ready for another adventure.
I have another child who is almost perfect. She plays independently, makes up adventures outside and loves to read, so you will often find her cozied up in a corner with her idea of a good book (think Mary-Kate and Ashley adventures!). She's also the safety patrol, the justice police, and the snack monitor. She's all about order and putting the wrongdoer in his place.
As I was reading the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15, it hit me that these two children of mine are just like the younger and older brother. And the father — Oh, can I empathize with his plight! First, he is primarily dealing with the sin of his younger son, who basically wished he was dead when he requested the inheritance and left home. Then, he has to deal with the older son who can't comprehend his radical and irresponsible grace.
Isn't this how it goes at your house? You finish shepherding one child, feeling at peace with the the situation and relieved that it's over, and as you are leaving the room another child throws a big fit, has an accident or you overhear a dispute in the next room. Awesome. Just what you wanted to do right now.
This father is in the same boat. He may not be dealing with minor things like wiping spills and divvying out Legos, but he's still a parent wrestling through loving his kids, just as we are.
Between the excitement of his youngest son coming home, arranging a big feast, hosting, pleading with his oldest son, and the heartbreak of his rejection, he must feel pretty overwhelmed! I can empathize because I have felt all those things before.
Dealing with a child's rejection, shepherding another child who may seek to earn God's favor, planning meals, hosting parties, and also the flood of emotions — it can give us a sense of what he must have been going through.
Now, switch roles and set the scene as it truly is. The wonderful father from the parable is our Father in heaven — the God of the universe, Creator and Sustainer of life. The One who loves us constantly though we reject Him. The One who sees us from afar and sprints to us, rejoicing at our repentance like a little joyful child. The One who lavishes His grace and provision on us, though we're far from deserving it and try desperately to earn it.
As our kids age, we will no doubt become more emotionally invested in them, leading to more joy and more heartache. By the power of God's strength alone, we can emulate grace, love and tenderness, like our gracious Father.
:angel: :angel:
The Price of Ignoring Our Problems
Nov 06, 2013 12:20 am | Mary Carver
Shortly after buying our home, our washing machine overflowed and flooded our entire garage. We frantically called a plumber and anxiously awaited his diagnosis. We'd barely adjusted to paying our monthly mortgage and all the utilities and STUFF that go with homeownership at that point. So when the plumber looked us in the face and announced that our pipes were BAD and needed several thousand dollars' work as soon as possible, we were devastated.
Quickly, though, we moved into survivor mode. In other words, we pretended like the problem didn't exist.
Oh, we knew – and worried – that our pipes could collapse at any moment. That fear, honestly, has held us at least partially captive for the past decade. Every time our toilet gurgled or our sink drained slowly, we cringed, holding our breaths and wondering, Could this be the time? Has our plumbing ticket been called?
And in the meantime, because the problem had not been properly solved, we were forced to call that plumber back to our house every few months to put a Bandaid on the issue.
Isn't that sometimes how we go about living?
We notice a problem but think it's going to be too messy, too risky, too complicated to fix right now. So we make do. We work around it. We ignore it.
Funny thing, though. Much as this girl who avoids confrontation at all costs would like to believe that ignoring issues will make them go away, I think we all know IT DOESN'T. It simply creates obstacles in our lives, as we go out of our way to avoid the underlying issues causing trouble.
Ignoring the problems might mean we don't have to make the big investment up front, but eventually, what might have begun as a small problem will erupt into something bigger, messier and often costlier than we ever imagined.
Last night, a plumber spent four hours in our house, trying to clean out our drains. I waited patiently for news, shushing my daughter every time she asked when he would ever be finished and go home to his own house. And when he walked into our living room, nearly in tears at the news he had to deliver, I found myself reassuring him that it was okay, that we'd known this was coming, that we'd pay whatever it cost and yes, isn't it too bad that we didn't sell the house before this happened?
Despite our greatest wish and best ignoring intentions, our plumbing problems hadn't gone away. In fact, when I did the math, I was less than surprised to see that we'd spent approximately the same amount of money on dozens of occasional plumber visits than we would have had we simply fixed the problem ten years ago.
This story isn't simply a cautionary tale about old houses with old pipes. It's a clear reminder to me – and maybe to you, too? – that it's better to deal with problems right away, rather than to delay the confrontation, the complication, the cost of facing a challenge and finding a solution.
Maybe your problem is a misunderstanding between you and your husband that you've been avoiding. Or unmet expectations that you sweep under the proverbial marriage rug.
Or perhaps it's a co-worker who irritates you with her overpowering perfume or his insistence on taking credit for every success or her tendency to gossip and stir up trouble.
Are you ignoring a communication breakdown, a disappointment, a mistake that you can't truly move past? Are you telling everyone who asks – even yourself – that you're past the pain, over the heartbreak even though you continue to hurt and bleed? Are you pretending like everything is okay, while going out of your way to avoid a person or a place or a topic of conversation?
Is it possible you're paying the price of the problem, even though you have chosen not to face it?
Today could be the day you face your problems instead of averting your eyes or walking the long way around. Today could be the day that, finally, you can relax your jaw and breathe deep. Today could be the day that you stop allowing those ignored problems to hold you captive.
And when you choose to face those problems and work through them? God will be with you. Remember . . .
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)
I can do all this through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:13)
For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. (2 Timothy 1:7)
Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord! (Psalm 31:24)
Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. (Ephesians 6:10-13)
The final bill to fix our plumbing problems was a mighty blow that's going to take a while to recover from. But as frustrating as it's been to go without running water for a few days and scrape together money that we don't really have, it's also a strange relief to finally get this situation fixed for good.
Maybe it's time I take that approach with a few other problems I've been avoiding.
What about you? Have you been ignoring a problem? How would it feel to finally face it?
:angel:
By Invitation Only
Nov 07, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Markley
I lived most of my life on the edges of cliques. I walked the borders between groups of friends and I bridged gaps between people. And this, of course, was all unintentional because I always would have rathered to just be IN.
Into the inside jokes
Into the shared experiences
Into the sameness while I stood apart.
Groups.
Cliques.
Circles.
Closed...close...cloistered.
Just the nature of a group implies that it is a closed thing and someone will always be hurt.
I don't know that there are any of us who haven't been wounded in some way by being excluded. I have. You have.
Yet I realize I'm a part of a lot of groups myself. I'm a part of closed groups. I'm a part of small, close things that no one on the outside gets. I'm a part of invitation-only, cloistered circles that are quiet and safe and lovely. I've also weaseled my way into groups of friends that are large and nebulous and free. Everyone knows everyone and everyone loves everyone and there is a whole lot of back-patting and I'm-praying-for-you's.
But I also know the pain of being left out.
I've stamped my boot in the spring soil even as recently as this year saying I-would-not-will-not go that conference because All of the People are a part of a group I will never breach. Stamped my foot like a little girl and took my dollies and went home.
I'm not a part of that post-college circle with whom I always dreamed of sharing laughter and meals. I'm not inside of the central group at the school or the core group at church. I'm on the outside of so much.
So I am both on the inside and on the outside. I've been the wounder and wounded. I've been the cloistered and the excluded. And I would venture to say, so have all of us at some level.
The truth is we all like to surround ourselves with safe people. We pad our worlds with love if we can and often that love comes in the form of friends. We feel the safest when we are known.
Maybe the need to become known is why we operate this way.
It's why even the most friendly of us will naturally find ourselves leaning toward our "people" in a large group because it feels safe. It's why when we walk into a big room we scan the crowd for familiarity. It's why we say the words, "Save me a seat."
We are known.
That place of wanting to be known is what drives us to form cliques and groups and circles of safe, loving people. But what we really want is to be known intimately by the One who created us and who thought about us before time began.
I wonder if we could take more intentional steps toward
Being known by God,
Being known by our families,
And being known by ourselves.
Then maybe the exclusion/inclusion wouldn't have the same impact and we wouldn't feel the same pain.
Even so, knowing all of this still doesn't make it feel good when we aren't invited, when that invitation goes to the other girl and not to me. When the invitation says, Hush. Don't tell so others won't feel bad. What is wrong with me that I can't be a part of that group? What is wrong with me that I am not chosen?
Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you or with me. In fact, we've been chosen and invited before the start of the world.
So may I have a heart and soul that is open to the whispers of God when He invites me to
"go talk to her,"
"go love her,"
"go listen."
And I enter into relationships that I would never have dreamed would have been for me.
I'm invited.
You're invited.
We're invited by the One who's throwing the only party that matters.
:angel: :angel:
Catching Joy
Nov 07, 2013 12:10 am | Kaitlyn Bouchillon
I'd be willing to bet you've experienced some deep, hard things. Moments that can't be erased and memories that still haunt. Life change happened, whether you wanted it to or not.
But for all the struggles and questions and hard times, there is a joy.
It might have slipped you by, unnoticed in all the chaos, but I pray you found it.
On the other side of every trial is unending joy that will light up every dark place.
As the beauty of changing leaves shifts to a season of grey and white, I'm struck by how empty the world feels, void of color.
It all seems so looming, the changing of the season. There are certain days on the calendar that signal change, and as the temperature drops and the leaves fall I know one season is about to fade into the next. Thanksgiving is around the corner and I'm reminding myself of one simple word that changes everything:
eucharisteo
I will be thankful.
I will remember His goodness.
I will look for the light of Spring when Winter seems long.
I will be thanks-giving, counting it a joy as I jump in the Fall leaves and drink way too many pumpkin spice frappuchinos at Starbucks – because life is short and all is a gift, no matter the season.
I don't want to miss the gift of now by looking too far into the future. The present is a present, a gift waiting to be unwrapped.
How many joys have I allowed to slip by because I was too focused on the past or too worried about the future?
Every moment holds something of value – even the painful moments when you feel as empty of life as Winter. The fallen leaves may be hidden and the flowers of Spring have yet to bloom in your life, but as everything is blanketed by snow and you begin to feel empty, know that He is providing refreshment. This is a new season and it is a gift. The leaves will fall, the snow will melt, but don't wait until then to count your blessings.
We know it's coming, this change. We can't run from it or avoid it, so might I encourage you to embrace the new season of your life, even considering it a gift?
For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
Don't miss the good memories of laughter and popsicles, late night movies with friends, or the way the sun hits the leaves when you lay under the trees. Remember that each moment, each person, every trial and joy, is preparing you for His work. Corrie Ten Boom says it best: "Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives, is the perfect preparation for the future that only He can see."
Catch the joys today, savor the moment and relish in the beauty. Don't let the moment slip you by; there is light amongst the snow and beauty in the falling of leaves. Everything is but a season.
Have you recently entered a new season of life? Are you in a place of Winter? What joys are you counting today?
:angel: :angel:
When You Don't Want to Say Thanks
Nov 08, 2013 12:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider
Giving thanks. Sometimes it's hard to do when the holiday set aside for thanks-giving involves in-laws, slushy weather, disastrous kitchens, and crazy kids, not to mention those deeper extended family issues that materialize only on these blessed events.
But nonetheless, we are to do so. To give thanks, that is. And if you're like me, continual thanksgiving conjures an image of this mama who smiles with a knowing head shake at the eternal stickiness on the doorknobs. A risen-early woman walking amongst the fallen leaves in grateful worship to her Creator. Perfectly fine with the dirty dishes.
These can be true. But they're not usually true for me, if I'm honest. When I'm in the liturgical rhythm of laundry, laundry, laundry, my natural instinct is not to lift my arms in praise. I wish it was.
You know the only way I'm able to change my attitude from grumbling to grateful when I just don't feel like it?
I just choose to say thanks. I don't wait for my emotions to change.
I change Finn's dirty diaper, I scrunch my nose, and I murmur without a smile on my face, "Thank you God for this little body You've entrusted me with."
I open my inbox to untold unread emails and say, "Lord, thanks for this technology and these people in my life and this laptop." I'm still bummed about all the email I need to process.
I open the minivan door and witness the horror that is the cacophony of clutter, and I say, "God, thanks for these little people that are home with me."
And slowly, slowly, something miraculous happens. My heart changes. It really, really does. It's usually not unicorns and sparkles outwardly, but it is prettier on the inside.
I'm still not in love with the poop or the what-is-that-on-the-floorboard?, but I'm a little more in love with the Giver of Life. I'm more aware of the unbelievable gifts soaked in my life. I'm humbled.
And so it is the same on Thanksgiving Day. There's people and noises and casseroles and chaos, and often a sweet potatoed floor. And those perpetrators are reasons for thanks—they're gifts from God.
This season, don't wait for your feelings to flourish. Say thanks anyway, and see what happens.
In what parts of your life do you have to consciously choose to say thanks?
by Tsh Oxenreider, Simple Mom
:angel:
The Sweetest Revenge
Nov 09, 2013 12:20 am | Michelle Lazurek
During my years as a pastor's wife, I've received my share of persecution from church members. One particular time came when a friend of mine spread some gossip about me. Although the rumors weren't true, it damaged my reputation as a trusted leader within the church.
When I found out about it, I was devastated.
How could a friend do that to me?
How could she be so cruel and heartless?
As one of my first hurtful experiences within the church, I didn't know what to do with my feelings.
I wanted to retaliate.
I wanted to yell and scream.
I wanted to make her feel as bad as she made me feel.
Above all, I wanted revenge.
In my grief, I cried out to God. How can I handle this pain in a godly way?
One day, he showed me.
On a women's retreat, I spent the morning getting ready. As I dressed and began my morning routine, I heard God whisper softly into my heart: Wash their feet.
I wasn't sure what I had heard. Had I been right? Wash their feet.
I searched the kitchen of the retreat facility, scouring it for a basin and a towel. All I could find was a stainless steel bowl and a hand towel. It would have to be good enough.
Still confused about the unexpected calling, I kept it to myself.
The speaker at the retreat began her second session of the day and preached on Matthew 5:43-45:
"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.'
But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,
that you may be children of your Father in heaven."
Then I knew. I had been right all along.
Through my tears, I announced I would sit up in the small loft area above the main meeting area and that God was calling me to wash their feet. I assuaged their fears about being vulnerable, and let them know it was more uncomfortable for me then it would be for them.
I took my place up in the small loft and sat in silence, hoping at least one person would appear. I situated the basin near a bench that each woman could sit on. One by one, each woman sat down. I knelt beside them, gently dousing their feet with lukewarm water. I took the towel and dabbed every inch of their foot until they were completely dry. My nerves slowly melted away; I was actually enjoying it.
Then she appeared.
She sat down on the bench, took my hand and said, "I should be the one washing your feet." I let go of her hand and I placed her foot in the water. She, in a place of authority wiping her tears away as she stared down at me, I hunched over the basin looking up at her, washing the feet of my Judas. My one chance to retaliate, my ultimate revenge, all washed away in the stainless steel basin that day. Instead of hands clenched in revenge, I opened my heart to let the crimson- stained love of my savior in. I didn't need my feet washed—my heart was already clean.
It was the sweetest revenge of all. Instead of temporarily bandaging the wound of my heart by getting revenge, I let my savior heal it instead through service.
We all have had a Judas in our lives, someone whom you trusted with the key to your heart that takes the key and throws it away. Your tendency is to want to seek revenge against them. But God offers us a different way:
When someone damages your reputation, serve him.
When someone spreads lies about you, pray for her.
When someone hates you, love her.
Because demonstrating the unconditional love of Jesus is the sweetest revenge of all.
:angel: :angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Nov 10, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts.
For as members of one body you are called to live in peace.
And always be thankful.
Colossians 3:15
:angel: :angel: :angel:
Courage To Be Broken: My Real Thanksgiving List
Nov 12, 2013 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray
"Comes a time, on the journey, you wonder how you will survive,
There comes a time, when you're thirsty and so alone...
There is a pool in the desert, where water flows from fountains unseen,
Saving water, healing water flowing over me." The Choir, Flowing Over Me
You don't have to die, in order to feel like you're not really living.
You can even be loved by the man of your dreams whose arms as husband gently encircle your waist every night in bed — you can love the world's most beautiful two boys, the ones you'll always remember resting warm and soft in the cradle of your neck as newborns — and yet feel something missing inside.
It's hard to talk to other people about what you find difficult to face yourself.
They might think you're being ungrateful.
They might think you're not counting your blessings.
They might think your faith is broken.
But, it's not that way at all.
There is something deeper going on inside.
The Place Inside
I know what this is like.
To make it on my own. To be okay.
It's a numbness. In places no one can see.
It's me from my childhood. Still alone. Holding everything together.
It doesn't show up at work, when I used to stand up making presentations in conference rooms.
It doesn't show up when I'm hanging out with my friends, or even at church, where all is as it should be.
And if you saw me at the grocery store, or driving my kids to soccer, running errands, you would think all is fine.
This place inside me where I pull myself together is where I go whenever I'm feeling down, confused or stressed.
In the privacy of my soul — where my memories lay — lies the wounded me.
Greater Faith
You know, the month of November is the time of the year when we talk about being thankful.
But for someone like me, who is going through the journey of healing — having to remember all the people, places and stories that have wounded me — what I'm thankful for may not be what everyone else has on their list.
Before my journey through debilitating anxiety, I was able to ignore the undercurrent feeling of shame I've hidden growing up in a dysfunctional home.
I wanted to be strong and courageous — by being competent.
I didn't understand God could make me strong and courageous — by being broken.
I was still young in my journey of faith.
It wasn't time for me back then, as a little girl, to understand it takes greater faith to be broken than being competent.
Even Though
It's what Jesus chose in the Garden of Gethsamane, the night everyone was remembering Passover and giving thanks for God's protection from passing death.
It was the night Jesus chose not to pass death.
It was the night Jesus felt like dying –
even though He had just celebrated the Passover meal with His closest friends,
even though Jesus had given thanks, for the bread,
and even though Jesus had given thanks, for the cup.
Jesus confided –
"My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.
Stay here... With me.
I'm very sad. It feel as if I'm dying..."
Matthew 26:37-38 (NIV, CEB)
Jesus didn't want pain, but He wanted us more.
So, Jesus chose to be broken.
This Thanksgiving, my heart is opening up.
My soul is awakening with each painful memory coming alive.
I'm stepping out — even in my numbness — to give thanks.
Not because I'm strong.
Not because everything is picture perfect.
I have something this year I've never had before.
I have a heart that is becoming real.
My Real Thanksgiving List
This year, I'm opening my heart to My Real Thanksgiving List.
I'm thankful –
I can be in need, so I can go on a new journey to find comfort.
I can feel sadness, so I don't have to live separated from my heart. I can cry and feel afraid because it means I'm real.
I don't have to want suffering, but I can choose to embrace it. Because God doesn't see it as shameful. He is going to stay with me. As long as it takes.
I can fall apart. Because Jesus is holding me tenderly and His tears are dropping onto the hands that have gone limp from praying too long and too hard in silence.
I'm thankful I can hear Him whispering –
I haven't forgotten you.
I'm not going to leave you.
over and again, even as I choke out in sobs to Him in return, "I don't want this. I don't want this."
I'm thankful I can finally stop to look at my wounds and investigate how they got there.
I'm learning to say no in ways I've never dared — to say yes to me and yes to God.
I'm thankful I can smell the rain and remember the dreams I've given up — so I can ask God if I can taste them again.
I can ask God, "Is it too late?" and still doubt, because God is faithful even when I'm not.
I'm thankful for beautiful things I'm finding among the devastation of letting go.
I'm thankful I can be broken and real. Because Jesus still chooses me.
Something Beautiful
I am finding new friends who understand that both sadness and joy can co-exist. Who aren't trying to fix me.
Friends who trust that love is greater than any resolution.
Friends who understand the journey of faith takes us off script.
Who share their own stories of struggle and dreams.
Who can touch the deep places.
Friends who remember the earth was once formless.
Empty.
Yet, God was still moving in it, making something new and deep.
Something beautiful and real.
It was so real, that when God looked at what He was holding — after placing His lips and breathing into the dirt — He saw something come alive.
Something He never, ever made before.
It's what God sees looking into your heart and mine today.
He is making something beautiful out of you.
Remember
As we walk into the heart of the Thanksgiving season, and all those picture perfect images and stories start flashing onto our screens, remember The Real Thanksgiving List taking shape in God's heart — inside of yours.
This list is coming alive in the real stories He's walking out with you in the current chapters you are living. Today.
We can be thankful.
Jesus is going to keep loving us — the same way He calls the stars out on the darkest nights every day.
He whispers your name. And mine.
Tenderly.
"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
He counts the number of the stars;
He gives names to all of them."
~ Psalm 147:3-5
~~~~~
What is God whispering on your heart today?
What is on your Real Thanksgiving List this year?
Pull up a chair. Express the journey inside you with us here. It matters. Click to comment.
~~~~~
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith in everyday life.
Looking for some company on the faith journey? Join me as I make my way on my blog Faith Barista.
:angel:
Don't Let It Pass You By
Nov 13, 2013 12:20 am | Annie Downs
A few years ago, Bronwen, myself, and Marisa decided to go to New York City for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was the first time in my life I hadn't spent Thanksgiving morning watching the parade in my parents' home with my sisters, but there it was, live right in front of me.
Forget the fact I had food poisoning and let's just focus on the fact we were in New York City on Thanksgiving Day.
It. Was. Awesome.
We got to our spot on 70th Avenue and Central Park West around 5 am, and within a few short hours, the parade began to pass us.
Floats.
Balloons.
Celebrities.
Marching bands.
All the things you see on television, we saw too, except the Broadway performances.
Santa Claus and the reindeer made their way through our intersection around 10 am and it was done.
The massive and tightly packed crowd started to disperse as soon as the policemen let us onto Central Park West. The girls and I couldn't quit talking about the parade. The floats up-close are incredibly detailed and artistic. Some of our favorite television stars and musicians were right in front of our eyes. The balloons are bigger than you can even imagine.
We giggled and recapped as we walked all through Central Park, back to where we stayed, grabbed our luggage, and headed back south for the winter.
I will absolutely never forget it. It's one of the coolest things I've ever gotten to do.
It wasn't a typical holiday. But being a single adult doesn't always lend for typical holidays. The three of us saw a really fun opportunity and we decided to go for it.
When moments like that happen, when chances like that arise, don't let them pass you by.
If I'm getting real honest, there are memories like this, attending the Thanksgiving Day Parade, that I thought I'd share with my own little family, and maybe someday I will. But in the back of my mind, in some filing cabinet that is dusty because I rarely open it, is a file of experiences and memories that I have always thought I'd save for when I got married.
I don't want to buy a house until I'm married.
I don't want to travel to Europe until I'm married.
I don't want to start my own business until I'm married.
I don't want to get involved in that ministry until I'm married.
I don't want to visit Napa, California, until I'm married.
It's one thing to enjoy watching a parade pass you by; it's quite another to watch life pass you by for the sake of "someday I'll share this with my husband."
Don't wait.
Open your eyes to the opportunities that God has placed in front of you and say yes to them. Go on that mission trip. Visit that new city. Attend that dance class. See the parade in person.
Live your life.
I guess the holidays sometimes, to me, feel like a season where I bemoan all the memories I'm not making instead of looking around for the ones waiting to be made.
Don't let those pass you by.
And seriously. Go see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in person. And if you can get us seats in the bandstands, I'll meet you there!
by Annie Downs
:angel:
Jesus in the Metadata
Nov 14, 2013 12:20 am | Dawn Camp
I had a dream recently, the night after I participated in a Help-Portrait event at the Allume conference in Greenville, South Carolina. I saw a sheet with a list of names, highlighted in blue, of those who worked at this event to primp, pamper, and eventually photograph fourteen 5th-8th grade girls who participate in a local mentoring program for at-risk students in need of extra support.
Have you ever dreamed the same thing over and over, all night long? This was one of those nights, one of those dreams for me: that piece of paper with the list of names.
I awoke knowing the dream was about the One whose name wasn't on the list but came anyway—as present in meaning but visibly missing as that "understood you" we learned about in English grammar class—Jesus Christ.
As sure as the camera I held in my hand, Jesus and I worked together that day.
He didn't walk up from the hotel lobby or in off the street like the people who saw my camera and backdrop and laughingly told me they'd come for their head shots. But he was there.
When those young girls smiled their shy smiles and their sassy smiles; told me their names; and allowed me to create testimony to a day when greeters, stylists from a salon school, photographers, and a support team dedicated themselves to showing them just how valuable, special, and beautiful they are, Jesus allowed me to be His hands and His feet in this world, a merging of the virtual and the visible.
His eye and mine at the viewfinder, our fingers clicking the shutter. I pray these girls felt His love emanate from me.
Help-Portrait isn't about taking portraits; it's about giving them.
About Help-Portrait
In January I told you that the last four years I've worked with Help-Portrait, a global movement of volunteers including greeters, photographers, make-up artists, and hairstylists, who join together on a Saturday in December to give back to their communities by photographing—and delivering those photographs—to those in need.
When the first commenter said, "I'm interested to join this . . . but you may have posted this too late?" I committed to sharing this in time for this year's event on December 7.
Click here to find out how you can get involved. If you're bold enough to start a new Help-Portrait event in your area, you'll find helpful planning tips here.
You don't have to be a photographer to volunteer. My husband served as a greeter last year and entertained kids while their mothers got their hair fixed and make-up applied. A lady read about Help-Portrait on my blog three days before last year's event, signed up online, and we worked together most of the day.
If you're looking for a way to give back this Christmas season, volunteering with Help-Portrait is a great choice. Join me?
by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:
Let's Have a Talk about Emotional Modesty
Nov 15, 2013 12:20 am | Holley Gerth
Hey, Friend, pull up a chair and lean in close because I want to have a heart-to-heart talk with you about something that's important for all of us as women.
A few weeks ago a friend of mine were chatting. Her husband is in a leadership role at a church and she shared how women often confide in him in ways that are personal. That led us to a discussion about how easy it is to share your heart with men who are not your husband these days. There are plenty of opportunities to send a Facebook message, email, or open up to a guy friend. Yet here's the thing: I believe that baring our hearts makes us just as vulnerable as baring our bodies.
If a man is not your husband, do not share your heart with him.
And if you are single, do not share your heart with a married man.
Let's embrace emotional modesty. Emotional modesty means we see our hearts as a great treasures only to be shared with the man who is our spouse. "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it" {Proverbs 4:23}. Women are more vulnerable to emotional affairs and where our emotions go, our thoughts and bodies often follow. We know that, right?
We don't go into situations thinking, "Oh, this might be the beginning of an emotional affair." Instead we have a bad day and find a sympathetic listening male ear. Or we discover we're writing longer emails to a particular coworker. We reconnect with an old flame on Facebook.
If you find yourself emotionally drawn to someone besides your spouse ask, "What unmet need is this highlighting in my marriage?" Then go to your spouse or both of you go to a counselor and find a way to get that need met.
My husband is incredibly practical and I'm highly emotional. For the first years of our marriage there were times I felt disconnected from him because he approached life head first and I approached it heart first. With some wise advice, lots of patience, and weekly breakfast dates we began learning to communicate. And we're still learning.
Here's what I didn't know when I tied the knot: Marriage takes work, friends. A lot of work. There's a myth that says, "If you love someone you won't have to work at it." But I've come to believe the truth sounds more like this, "If you love someone you will work at it." When you emotionally attach to someone else, it lets you avoid that work. And in the moment, that feels pretty good. But it has devastating consequences long-term.
Whew, this was a hard post to write. I hope you hear my motivation behind it and it's this: I love you. I love your marriage. I love your heart and I believe it's a treasure worth guarding. And I love your daughters–so please talk to them about this, too.
Let's help each other with this, friends, okay? We're made to live in community. We're made for connection. God just gives us boundaries for doing so because he wants what's truly best for us.
Emotional modesty is hot.
And, girl, you're looking blazing beautiful today.
XOXO,
Holley Gerth
:angel:
One Way to Listen for Your Life
Nov 16, 2013 12:20 am | Emily Freeman
I get teary this time of year. Not sad, exactly. More like thoughtful.
Fall turning over into winter brings out the beautiful melancholy, that may be part of it.
I think it also has to do with the season of thanks and giving, the anticipation of advent, the deep knowing that Christ is our hope and it's not because I did anything to deserve it.
Over the past several years I've been intentional to consider those times when I get teary. Not to over-analyze or find meaning where there isn't any. Rather as a way of listening to what touches my soul.
Tears are the simplest way to listen for your life.
Recently I spent some time in the mountains of North Carolina serving as a retreat speaker at The Cove. Our worship leader for the week was Bryan Morykon, a singer, songwriter and self-proclaimed recovering perfectionist. Our first night together as a group, Bryan sang his new-to-me song, and as I listened, I was reminded of an old, sacred truth:
"Be kind to one another. Jesus will show you how.
You've got to keep those words of life in your heart
so they spill right out of your mouth."
-Bryan Morykon, Be Kind
He sang the gospel that night.
Instantly, all of my relationships seemed so much less complicated. As the simple tune weaved its way into my heart, I remembered again what it means to love, to forgive, and to depend on Jesus. And my thankfulness showed up as tears.
Simple words with a simple melody carrying a profound truth.
It's becoming more important to me to consider those moments when I tear up with respect rather than dismiss them or worse, apologize for them.
I wonder what it might look like for you to consider when the tears debuted from the depths within you? Was it a song lyric? A kind gesture from a friend? A question from a child? A line in a movie?
When was the last time you felt the stinging gift in your own eyes, this most natural reminder that you are alive, here, human?
Maybe it's been a while for you. There's nothing wrong with that. But the next time the tears rise up to meet you, don't brush them aside.
Greet them, receive them, and listen for the life they bring.
The song I quoted here is from Bryan's album, The Smallest Seed, which is available to download for free right now!
:angel:
For the days you get nothing done
Nov 18, 2013 12:20 am | Lisa-Jo Baker
I didn't get around to the laundry this weekend.
The boys' hamper is overflowing. Literally. There is an assortment of super heroes all gazing up at me forlornly from the bedroom floor. There is an epic battle between the Legos raging on the run down dresser I've been meaning to paint for months now– headless horsemen by the hundred.
I didn't get around to cleaning the kitchen or re-organizing the kid's play area. There are boxes I meant to sort through and toys I meant to pitch and they're all still lining the hallway higgledy piggeldy.
There are leaves that didn't get raked and the three lawn chairs we've been meaning to move into the garage for weeks. They're still braving the cold outside. Along with the patio umbrella.
I didn't find that missing library book – the one I can't even remember checking out.
I didn't make a list of Christmas gifts or address the Christmas cards I ordered a couple weeks ago. I didn't buy that twin bed sheet that is long overdue for a boy whose bed needs as much help in the freshness department as possible.
I meant to pick up the wild collection of plastic weapons that decorate our front lawn because we're the house in the neighborhood that hosts the armies of kids who use the back yard as their battlefield. But they're all still out there. A weird polka dots of plastic blues, oranges, yellows and reds.
And there are socks by the dozen that still aren't matched.
I had to call Peter tonight to warn him what he was coming home to, because that level of chaos can quite take the breath away.
So I told him what we did do.
I told him that we danced tonight.
Three bare-chested children to the wail of South African anthems beat their chests and their drums and their feet to the music as their mom watched to the beat of her own busting heart.
There was cutting of paper that left a rainbow trail across the dining room and into the kitchen. There were purple glue sticks and improvised drum sticks. There were shoes and shirts tried on and discarded and repurposed and then left again in all the places they shouldn't have been.
It was loud. And we feasted on cheese and crackers and each other.
Some days, most days, the list of chores is long and it needs to get done because we need to be ready and organized for the week. So we go, go, go and we do, do, do and there isn't always room for dancing.
But some days? Some days I wipe everything off the list and put my feet up on the sofa and crank up the music. Because some days I remember I'm more than the house cleaner in this joint. Some days I remember that I'm a joy bringer.
I'm a dance partner.
I'm a drum aficionado.
I'm a candy lover.
I'm an artist-in-residence.
I'm a renaissance mom if I want to be to the three tiny humans I'm raising.
And by gosh, some nights that means there won't be clean dishes.
...but there will be dancing.
:angel:
Why Do We Really Dread the Drop-in?
Nov 19, 2013 12:20 am | The Nester
A month or so ago I wrote a post called The Almost Extinction of the Drop-In. If you didn't read it, you might want to read it first to catch up. I was surprised at the response to the post. The comments fell into a few groups:
1. people who LOVE drop-ins
2. people who don't mind them but want a warning
3. people who don't like drop-ins
My main and most surprising observation was that the people who didn't care for a drop-in didn't feel free to say, "Thank you so much for dropping by, but it's a bad time," or to simply not answer the door. Just because someone drops by does NOT mean you are required to invite them in. I think that's where the drop-in breaks down and gets a bad reputation–when we aren't willing to tell or accept the truth.
Some well-intentioned people are abusing the drop-in on both sides. They are showing up too often and staying too long. They are inviting people in when they should be telling the truth: that it's simply not a good time.
Here are my non-scientific tips so that the drop-in-ees and drop-in-ers can all get along. Maybe one day the drop-in can return to its former glory, a not-to-be-dreaded-gift.
For Drop-in-ers
1. Don't drop-in with the assumption that you will be invited inside.
If you are a drop-in-er, above all, you must be able to accept an "it's a bad time." If someone tells you it's not a good time, believe them and don't take it personally. Think back to your response the last time someone told you no. Did you handle it with grace or did you second guess and get your feelings hurt? If you cannot deal with drop-in rejection, that's probably a sign that you shouldn't be dropping in on people.
2. If your friend says, "Yes, come in!" aim for a 15-minute visit. Wouldn't it be great to leave them wanting more of you?
3. Drop in joyfully.
Think back to your last drop in. Would the person you dropped in on call your visit a joy or a burden? Aim to be a joy as often as possible. There are always times when we need a friend's shoulder to cry on. By all means, I want my friends to feel free to absolutely stop by when they are hurting–they had better! But if I know that every day I'll be required to give an hour-long counseling session, I might shy away from the door knocks.
4. Just because you know someone and pass their house every day doesn't mean it's a good idea to drop-in regularly.
5. Just because someone is on staff at your church or married to a staff person doesn't mean they have a personality that enjoys a regular drop-in. We are all created differently and that's okay.
For the drop-in-ee
1. It's your responsibility to only invite a drop-in inside if it's a good time.
You are NOT required to invite a drop-in inside. It's not their responsibility to know if you've had an argument with your husband or if you have diarrhea or if you just need to be alone! It's your responsibility to let them know it's not a good time. You are free to say no. Without explanation.
The worst possible thing to do is to invite someone in when it's not a good time. Southerners, I'm talking to you. To invite someone into your home and then to be secretly mad at them for being there or staying too long is ten times worse than being honest from the start and thanking them for dropping by but kindly telling them it's a bad time.
You and your friends deserve better. Tell the truth. You can do this. I certainly wouldn't want someone to pretend like it's good timing if I dropped-in.
If you aren't close enough to someone to tell someone it's not a good time, then you aren't close enough to them for them to assume they can drop-in.
In other words, if someone feels close enough to drop-in on you, then they are close enough to trust you if you tell them it's a bad time. Please, please take this to heart. It saddens me how we are doing this all wrong. Tell the truth. It's okay. Their reaction to the truth is not your responsibility.
2. Evaluate your motives.
Do you not want your friends to come in because your house is a mess? I've been there, too. Sometimes this is a sign that we are trying to impress people and focusing on the wrong things. Consider welcoming your friends into your mess from time to time. If your reply is, "Well, then they will judge me and go talk about my dirty house to all our friends," this might be a good time to re-evaluate your friendships.
3. Learn how to kindly end a visit.
Ending a visit starts at the beginning. If you have a surprise drop-in and you want to see them but can't afford to spend the entire morning chatting it up, right from the start set the time limit with a quick little, "I only have 10 minutes but I'd love for you to come in for a second so we can catch up."
If you need to end a visit, then take that responsibility. It's an art. Say something like, Well, I am SO happy that you stopped by (as you stand up), and I wish I could visit longer but I have to (insert reason –a deadline, scheduled phone call, a pile of work, an errand what have you) (as you walk to the door).
Whatever you do, do not try to reenact an Andy Griffith episode and give all sorts of manipulative cues and twitches that you are tired or need to do something. And WHATEVER you do, don't get mad when your cues aren't interpreted. Closing a conversation is not mean. It's a skill and everyone needs to know how to do so graciously.
The best advice usually comes in the comments and the last post was no different. If you want to drop in on someone, great! Simply text or call first to see if it's a bad time. (And if they don't text back or answer, don't drop-in).
Also, there are different kinds of drop-ins that require different types of sensitivities so feel free to discuss in the comments.
A neighbor dropping by your house with a plate of cookies to welcome you to the neighborhood is quite different than a neighbor stopping by your house with her kids every day after school assuming they'll be invited in to play for a few hours.
Obviously, this is simply my perspective. I'm an introvert who almost never drops in on anyone outside my inner circle of friends but I also actually enjoyed the close neighborhood life when a neighbor would pop in and stand in the kitchen and talk as I made dinner. I'm also very confident in telling someone it's a bad time and quite well-versed in politely letting people know I need to go do something else and the visit is over. I appreciate having friends who know I love them and who trust me if I told them it wasn't a good time.
Your turn! I want to hear your thoughts on the great drop-in debate!
:angel:
Gratitude is the Catalyst
Nov 20, 2013 12:20 am | Arianne Segerman
At the beginning of the year, I picked a word of the year for the very first time. I always wondered why people chose one word, because how did they decide? And then somewhere around the first week of January, a word hit me and it was so obvious it was from the Lord that I tucked it into my heart and have carried it in my mind ever since.
My word was Intention. It meant that this year my family would no longer just survive — we would THRIVE. And it would start with me being intentional.
As I sat down to write down some words for you guys today, I realized that one of the biggest ways I've learned how to be intentional is by being grateful.
When I am slowing down my mind so that I can be intentional with my actions, words, heart, I do so by doing one important thing first. I look around me and find things I'm grateful for in that very moment. The sun, the birds, the cluttered house, the heart beating, the breath. Once I focus on that gratitude, I notice something happening.
It's as if all the things around me start to rise up. They start to fill the room. Fill my soul. And they rise higher than my stress level. And that gratitude takes form and begins to shape my thoughts and actions. Suddenly, I'm intentional.
I've become intentional with my husband, my children, my work, my diet, my sleep, my friendships and even my self-care. I can't even tell you what a life-changing thing this has been for me (I highly recommend it).
I have gone years with huge life struggles, and I know what it's like to feel as though "being intentional" is a luxury only people with an easy life get to do. I get it, I do. I "survived" for a long time with that belief system, but it held me back so much. I definitely wasn't thriving.
Only did I start to thrive when I took a hold of the things God had laid out on a platter before me saying, "Here, my daughter, take this life, take me, and soar," and realized I had the choice to make things different in my mind. My revelation was that my perspective really could be God's perspective. And it wouldn't take all that much effort on my part. In fact, it took surrender and an easy trade.
God's perspective is that I'm worthy of a peaceful, joy-filled life. And that I deserve to head in that direction and keep going until I find it, or I find Him. He wanted to do it, to change my perspective. I need only take the platter from Him – full of His gifts – and give Him my plate – full of burdens and suffering. The easy trade.
Have you ever thought about living an intentional life? Do you use gratitude as the catalyst for change in your life?
I would love to hear your stories!
***
By Arianne, of Mabel + Riv
:angel:
When You Want Your CHRISTmas to Have More Christ and Less Crazy
Nov 21, 2013 12:20 am | Ann Voskamp
~ excerpt from The Greatest Gift
'Big and glossy and loud and fast -—- that's how this bent-up world keeps turning.
But God, when He comes to us — He shows up in this fetal ball.
Christmas is coming – and who doesn't want to come into startling wonder:
He who carved the edges of the cosmos curved Himself into a fetal ball in the dark.
He tethered Himself to the uterine wall of a virgin, and lets His cells divide, light splitting all white.
He gave up the heavens that were not even large enough to contain Him and lets Himself be held in a hand.
The mystery so large becomes the Baby so small, and infinite God becomes infant.
The Giver becomes the Gift..."
~ excerpt from The Greatest Gift
Come into the wonder? Let this Christmas come into the wonder again?
Let this Christmas come into the wonder of more Christ and less crazy?
Come to Christmas at the Farm — today! It's today at 12 noon EST! My friend, Liz Curtis Higgs and I, we're over here at the web premiere of Christmas at the Farm and we're laughing, sharing recipes, talking about how to have a Simplified, Sane and Sacred Christmas (with a free printable/framable).
This could be Christmas like you've never quite experienced before — but have always been yearning for.
You breathe different in a room when you know it's not about the good you can accomplish but about the grace you can accept.
You breathe different through a season when you begin it by breathing in grace —
Come exhale at the farm today —
Your personal invitation to today's webcast Christmas at the Farm:
RSS readers please click here to see your personal video invitation –and Lizzie and I looking happily ridiculous.
Liz Curtis Higgs, this crazy farm hick, and you — Laughter. Live Chat. (Bad) Singing. Cookies. Recipes. The Word. Jesus.
And the free printable/framable: How to have a Simplified, Sane and Sacred Christmas.
Come over the hills and fields of snow — for Christmas at the Farm with Lizzie and Annie and a whole lot of Jesus.
Before the seasons gets kick started into high gear — maybe your soul really needs the gift of this? Of Him.
See you today, 12 Noon EST!
P.S. If you're unable to join Lizzie and I for the web premiere and the livechat on at 12 Noon EST, today, November 21st, no worries — the farm door will be left wide open just for you, to come to Christmas at the Farm whenever works for you!
Resources: Ann Voskamp's newest book: The Greatest Gift: Unwrapping the Full Love Story of Christmas
Wooden Advent Wreath with Mary Figurine : Christmas countdown : "I found the one my heart loves" Ornament :
Q4 you:
What's been hard about Christmas for you?
What do you really want for Christmas this year? What do you really want your CHRISTmas to look like — the kind of Christmas you've always yearned for? What are your ideas of simplified, sane and sacred Christmas? Can't wait to hear your ideas too in the LiveChat today over at Christmas on the Farm!
:angel:
6 Habits for Happiness at Home
Nov 24, 2013
Melissa Michaels
I'm not always diligent in keeping up with all the good habits and routines I should practice every day. Sometimes I just have a hard time getting started with a new habit, but more often I seem to have a hard time keeping up with them.
But there are some things I do that I know for sure change my outlook on my day. No, I'm not talking about running five miles a day or going to the gym (although those would be great habits). I'm talking about very simple actions that don't take much effort but can dramatically change how I feel throughout the day. The habits and routines I practice at home make day-to-day living a more joyful experience.
Here are 6 simple daily habits (in no particular order and certainly not all of them!) that contribute to my general well-being, happiness and gratitude at home.
1. Pray with purpose.
I keep a written list of people and needs to pray throughout the day to keep my mind focused on God's presence in all circumstances. Here is a cool prayer app you can use to keep track of prayer requests on your phone or iPad!
2. Count blessings.
Whenever my heart start to wander towards discouragement, I jot down a few of God's many blessings. It helps! I also love to decorate my home with many reminders of what matters most to me. Being surrounded by personal mementos, family photos, favorite memories, quotes and verses help me to focus on gratitude for what I have already been given.
3. Make the bed every morning.
This might seem silly, but for me making the bed is one of the dominoes that starts a chain of other good daily habits and feelings of happiness and gratitude for my home throughout the day.
4. Polish the sinks.
There is always so much housework to do, but if I can only keep up with even one household cleaning task every day, it should be my sinks. Life feels so much less stressful and I feel happier and more productive when our sinks are polished clean and not full of dishes or toothpaste globs.
5. Light up the darkness.
I love the ritual of turning on a few lamps around my house in the evening (especially in my entry and main living areas) to light up dark corners. The ambient light makes my house feel so warm, welcoming and cozy! I make it an intentional habit to feel gratitude for my home as I turn on the lights each night.
6. Practice random acts of kindness.
Everyone needs encouragement and we all need community. Even if we are busy, or naturally homebodies or introverts, it doesn't take much effort to reach out, build a little more community and make someone's day a little brighter. Besides the occasional coffee date to chat face to face, I've been working on remembering to send out quick notes friends to let them know I'm praying for them and taking the time to leave encouraging comments or compliments for friends or acquaintances on a social media sites. That small effort makes my day happier, too.
What are some of your daily habits that change the course of your day for the better?
:angel:
Thanksgifting
Nov 25, 2013 Robin Dance
Children know.
There's absolutely, positively no fooling them–they know.
I was a frazzled mama of three, my oldest still four when the youngest was born.
It was all I could do to manage house, home and a part-time ministry position, feeding one from my body and two from the table...or, the car seat. Happy Meals aren't just about the children; sometimes they're sanity's tether.
Mamas are master jugglers. If we aren't interested in selling our young ones to the circus on their wildest of days, we might be tempted to join it ourselves. I'm certain the skill set transfers, and center ring at the circus is darn near a Calgon bath.
Children sense when we're distracted. They know when we aren't really listening.
Tiny hands grasping your cheeks and turning your face toward theirs is demand for full attention.
"Listen, Mama," they say without a spoken word. Chubby toddler fingers have very loud voices.
Sometimes I wish I had the freedom of a child–
The inhibition to demand full attention...
The liberty to let you know it hurts me when you're half engaged in our conversation and more interested in what's streaming on your phone.
The tenderness to ask you to enjoy our time together without a camera chronicling every moment.
You see, I'm not pointing fingers at you right now. I'm looking in the mirror...
and wincing.
Oh, lovies–I'm a blogger with an iPhone and an Instagram account! I have almost 3,000 pictures on my phone (and on my old one I had even more). I love to capture memories in photographs because it helps me remember.
So, please....please, hear my heart? I am not condemning or criticizing anyone! Rather, I'm challenging myself and whoever would like to join me with a simple philosophy for the holidays–Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year:
Love fully. Love well.
This means doing what Jesus talked about in Mark 12 and practicing Philippians 2:3-4.
Two of my children are now in college and my baby is a junior in high school. Though I can barely stand thinking about it, my reality is that it is rare for all five of us to be together – to share a meal or sleep under the same roof – powerful motive to engage them without distractions when I have opportunity.
Once you realize you have 18 Thanksgivings and 18 Christmases with your children living under your roof and authority, you realize how quickly time flies. Yes, they'll always be your babies, but I'm learning once they have a foot out the door, it's never the same. That's not a bad thing, mind you; it's the natural order of life. But to a mama, it sure can be a hard thing.
I had opportunity to hear Laura Parker (co-founder of The Exodus Road) speak recently. Though it wasn't the main point of her session, the most poignant takeaway for me was a challenge to do well the next thing in front of you. In context, she was sharing the story of a woman who saw this as opportunity to love well the person she was with. Putting myself in those shoes, it means regardless of the circumstances or the relationship I have with the person in front of me, I can love them well by giving them my full attention; not thinking ahead to what I'll say next, not looking around to who else I might want to talk to, not checking my phone.
We love strangers, friends and family the same way: by being fully present when we're together.
(And aren't strangers just friends waiting to be discovered?)
There is so much to do in preparation for holiday gatherings, I'm living that reality as I prepare to host our family gathering on Thursday. To-Do Lists are a mile long with shopping and cleaning and getting home ready for family and friends (or getting your little people ready to visit others). There are just as many ways to become distracted as there are recipes for turkey and dressing.
But I'm more convinced than ever that the most important To-Do is simply to love well the people right in front of me.
That is the Gospel fleshed out in my life.
By Thursday morning I hope the cleaning's done; but if it's not, it will still be enough.
By Thursday afternoon, the table will be set, the food will be prepared, and whatever got done will be more than enough.
I'll likely take a few pictures to help me with that memory loss thing, but my greatest hope is that I'll love my people well – that they'll be affirmed, esteemed, encouraged and fully attended.
My hope is that as we feast on good food and share the company of those with whom we share blood, we'll be full to the overflow with Thanksgiving because we've valued one another in a way that honors God and each other.
How can we make this holiday season memorable, friends? I wouldn't suggest following my son's advice(!), but I sure would love to hear your suggestions for making memories.
:angel: :angel:
Whispered Grace
Nov 26, 2013 12:10 am | Amy Lanham
"Thank you." The words passed from his lips with concerted effort in barely more than a whisper. My sweet dad, fighting a several year battle with Parkinson's disease, didn't let the atrophying of his vocal cords prevent him from offering his thanks on a regular basis.
My dad's diagnosis came shortly after his retirement from thirty-eight years of teaching secondary math. The disease first presented itself clearly to us in his walk, which became more of a shuffle. Initially the medications and exercise routines helped tremendously, but in 2009 he began a sudden and irreversible decline.
Dear friends, I cannot begin to tell you all of the horrendous things this disease did to my poor dad's body. When he passed away in December of 2011, he could only turn his head and raise his arms.
In the midst of his deterioration, my grandmother passed away from a brain aneurysm, my cousin's husband developed terminal liver cancer in his 40s, and my own husband discovered his blood carries leukemia. Life became a bit overwhelming for our family to say the least, especially since I was a stay-at-home mom of two young children.
During this season I gained courage from my discovery of Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts. I clung to Laura Story's song, Blessings. I trained my brain to dig for the joy surrounded by the broken. I strove to give thanks amidst the bleakness around me. My dad's example shown like a beacon pointing to the proper attitude to maintain.
My dad never complained. He did everything the doctors told him to do. He fought through all of the physical therapy like a champion. And, regardless of the level of treatment he received by some of the nursing staff at various facilities, he would take a deep breath, tighten his abdominal muscles, and do his best to utter thank you so they could hear him.
I would read to him or massage his feet, assist him to the bathroom, help change the bottle with his "food" when he got a feeding tube, adjust his covers, and put moisturizer on his lips, and for all of this I heard, "Thank you."
A friend commented he hoped his daughters never have to be in the position to do any of that for him. I hope that, too, but I can say that helping my dad with his most basic of needs is the single greatest privilege I have ever experienced.
If we do not offer praise for the beautiful, how then will we offer praise for the ugly?
Take this season to develop the habit of praise. Start a journal. Use the One Thousand Gifts app for your phone. Keep an ongoing family list of praises on a wall or in a book at the dinner table. Recount three "grateful things" at the end of the day with your children during prayer time. Flex your gratitude muscles so you may continue to do so during the desert times, because they will come. Simply choose one way to offer recognition to the Creator of all things good.
I witnessed the power of gratitude in the face of the formidable firsthand, and I will forever be changed. Will you join me?
"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the God of gods. His love endures forever.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords: His love endures forever."
Psalm 136:1-3
:angel: :angel:
A Thanksgiving Scripture
Nov 28, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
Come, let us sing to the Lord!
Let us shout joyfully to the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come to Him with thanksgiving.
Let us sing psalms of praise to him.
For the Lord is a great God,
a great King above all gods.
He holds in his hands the depths of the earth
and the mightiest mountains.
The sea belongs to him, for he made it.
His hands formed the dry land, too.
Come, let us worship and bow down.
Let us kneel before the Lord our maker.
Psalm 95:1-6
Many of us will celebrate Thanksgiving today. All of us can come to Him with thanksgiving today – and every day.
Friends, we are thankful for you, thankful for your hearts and your presence in this community. You are loved and we count you among our blessings. Thank you. And Happy Thanksgiving!
Love,
the (in)courage team
:angel: :angel:
The Rhythm of Thanksgiving
Nov 28, 2013 12:10 am | Kayla Aimee
Three years ago you were born even as I fought against nature and attempted to hold you in. This is not how the baby books tell you to approach labor. Quite the opposite, actually. Apparently I was supposed to work with the contraction, breathing out and letting it deliver you into this world.
Instead I gripped bed rails and held every breath attempting to stop you from slipping away from me, in both body and spirit.
They took you anyway, through an incision, so all that effort to fight my own body was for naught.
And at twenty five weeks gestation you had a birthday, fifteen weeks before your due date, now residing on the same calendar page as Thanksgiving rather than Valentine's Day.
They pushed my bed toward a recovery room down a hospital hallway adorned with festive fall decor, in the exact opposite direction they were wheeling you.
On our first Thanksgiving together I stared down at your face, cupped in my palm, the size of your skull so small that it failed to fill it. A nurse cleared away the tubes from your nose and your mouth and removed the tiny little shades covering your eyes so that I could see you properly, the flesh of my flesh.
When I was a little girl I traced my hand with marker and meticulously colored in each outline of a finger to form a turkey. Scrawled in shaky cursive on each feather was a thanksgiving for family, for food, for my cat Bosco who curled up on my feet at night and for winning the Pilgrim Hat Making Contest.
(I was a very competitive child.)
We went around the table and passed words of thanksgiving with the gravy, for family, for food, for fellowship and for football.
(Depending on which team was winning.)
Many thanksgivings have left my lips but none so full of truth than the day that I whispered it over you softly, so as not to overburden your yet unformed ears with the sound.
Then they draped a blanket back over your isolette and I couldn't see you, but I could see your heartbeats on a monitor and I counted every one in thanksgiving to its unsteady rhythm.
Another heartbeat. Thank you, Lord.
Another heartbeat. Thank you, Lord.
She forgot to breathe. Let her breathe, let her breathe.
Breathe.
Please breathe.
She took a breath. Thank you, Lord.
Elsewhere other families broke bread and bowed heads while I sat in the dark and uncovered a thanksgiving that I didn't know could exist in such suffering, one that entangled itself with my existence and would become a light unto my path.
I don't need a calendar for Thanksgiving now, all orange and brown, marked by apple cider and falling leaves.
You rolled over and it was Thanksgiving, hot summer sun beating down on the window.
You spoke a single syllable and it was Thanksgiving, snow falling softly from the night sky.
You took shaky steps toward us and it was Thanksgiving, blooms still in buds outside.
I know that our story could have ended differently and I'm still counting the Thanksgivings with heartbeats, a new rhythm of life where all of the smallest things really do call for rejoicing.
"Thanksgiving always precedes the miracle." – Ann Voskamp
And at night, when I tuck you in with your tulip blanket and feel your chest rise and fall with breath and pulse of a heartbeat underneath my hand, I can see it in the flesh.
Thank you, Lord.
"In everything give thanks." – 1 Thessalonians 5:18
:angel: :angel:
The Ultimate Cinnamon Roll
Nov 29, 2013 12:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
I woke to the phone ringing.
A recorded message announced the first school delay. Snow flakes graced not only the grass, but the roads as well. In North Carolina, that reality rocks everyone's equilibrium, and as a Wisconsin transplant, I still chuckle.
With our eldest home from college, visions of grandeur raced through my mind. The desire to fill his love tank with picture perfect, Norman Rockwell memories struck.
Cozy fires, beautiful decorations, home cooked meals in which we linger at the table each day, the Christmas plate filled with an unending supply of cookies, but most importantly, the aroma of my homemade cinnamon rolls awakening the children from their slumber became a priority.
I dashed downstairs and pulled the flour from the pantry.
Christening this first snow with delight needed to happen, and nothing was going to stand in the way.
And then it hit me. I remembered my reality and I looked at the clock.
Obligations, previously held commitments, and messes loomed. My heart desperately desired to create the kids' favorite Copy Cat Cinnabons, or at least my Overnight Refrigerator Rise Cinnamon Roll recipe, but the reality of life stood in the way.
Stress rolled in. The Norman Rockwell dream vanished.
I eyed the family room sofa filled with five loads of unfolded laundry. I rounded the corner of the dining room to catch a glimpse of the dog's mischief, which didn't smell too pleasing, and then remembered the boxes of stacked donations to take to Goodwill. It was just a small start to the huge amount of purging that needed to occur, but in the process complete chaos ensued. So much so that when our son arrived home he questioned, "Aren't you completely overwhelmed right now?"
"Yes, yes, I am, and I feel like I can barely keep my head above water."
Yet in that moment, an epiphany occurred.
It's eye opening how the Lord sometimes uses the simplest of acts to reveal the deepest truths.
He reminded me of what's important through the tale of my three cinnamon roll recipes.
In that moment, I purposed in my heart to claim this December as His. Unrealistic expectations might need to be released, but my heart's desire need not be crushed.
This advent season celebrates our Savior's birth through the most simple of arrivals, so why do I need to complicate it with self-imposed distractions that might conflict with elevating my worship of the one, true King?
I shoved the flour back on the shelf and grabbed the store bought prepackaged dough. I hit preheat and spent time praying over those blessings of mine asleep in bed.
I prayed that our family's priorities would stay focused on the One for which we celebrate. I begged for help in decision making, and wisdom to choose wisely during the next month, both with my purchases and time well spent.
And so while those 5 Minute Christmas Tree Cinnamon Rolls baked, life lessons spoke.
While not through some overtly super spiritual act, but through those little things that make a big difference, I remembered that I do this for them, for Him. It's not about me and not meant to impress.
In the midst of the ordinary of everyday, He uses the simplest gifts.
It's quite obvious that my son never knew whether I slaved over the stove all day or spent five minutes popping rolls on a cookie sheet; he was just grateful for the little things that spoke love to him.
The Ultimate Cinnamon Roll was realized! It came from time together. It came from the delight that occurred when they walked down and saw what was waiting.
Over the next month, give yourself that same permission.
Relax! Enjoy! Embrace the simple.
We don't give ourselves enough permission to do that and in turn create unnecessary stress amidst the "most wonderful time of the year."
I've learned that special moments, created with love, intentionality and simplicity, are embraced and appreciated just like those that took weeks of planning.
With that being said, I will be making my Copy Cat Cinnabon recipe on Christmas morn because it's what I love to do. It will take hours, but I will enjoy every moment without the stress, but until then, Pillsbury may be my secret weapon and no one will be the wiser.
What steps are you taking to enjoy your Advent Season?
Are you being proactive now to make sure that you can enjoy those moments that are most important?
(Shared by Jen Schmidt, Maker of three cinnamon roll recipes and balancer of both beauty and bedlam.)
:angel:
How to BE Patient
Stephanie Bryant
I was patient for her arrival. Knowing God was sending her in His best timing, for her and the world she was to serve.
But in the dark of the night of little sleep and baby rocking, my self cries, "Enough already!" and forgets about the beautiful miracle I have the privilege of caressing into dreamland.
{Have you forgotten about the miracle God has given you? You know the one. The One, too.}
She is entrusted to me, like each one of the miracles God has bestowed on my years. He asks me to steward her and all the everyday blessings He pours on us.
He asks me to sacrifice my desires for His. He asks me to live like He does. He wants me to be Holy like He is Holy.
I cry out, "Lord, make me patient."
{My impatience is an expression of my ungrateful heart. The feeling of inconvenience shows how I want things my own way, in MY timing. And pride is underneath it all.}
I scare myself sometimes at how my temper can flare, how I grit my teeth, how love seems to vanish and patience is trembling with fear at my selfish rage.
We've all prayed for it. Asked for more of it. Wish we could start over after we've lacked it. Patience.
_______________________
Love is.
First, love is patient.
I wonder if it's possible to embody the other attributes of love without patience? To be kind, not self-seeking or boasting, to be humble and not easily angered. . . all of these require patience with myself, others and, most importantly, my God.
With her on my lap, she suckles nourishment from my body. The very blood coursing through my heart is transformed into the food that feeds her growth. I watch with amazement at God's design as she drinks in more of me.
Life is in the blood. True life is in the Jesus-blood that covers me, my sin and hers already.
I am thankful and fearful at the same moment. I know myself. I know my thoughts. I'm nervous of how I'll react in the trenches of my new role as mama. I want to love her. I desire to be patient and teach her the same.
I'm amazed by my daughter's patience with me. She can't always communicate what she feels or needs. She doesn't set the schedule for the day. She is teaching me.
I cry out, "Lord, make me patient."
A still small voice rumbles in my insides.
"You're praying the wrong prayer. Why do you ask me for an outcome, a blessing, rather than the One who gives? I Am. I am the One you need."
The Spirit reveals His fruits. He calms my heart and gives me peace. The first of His fruits – love - tastes so sweet.
The second fruit He reminds me is patience, the very one I'm worried I won't have enough of to be a good mama to her.
God in me. The only way.
_______________________________
God is love. Love is patient. Patience is fruit from Him through me.
I cry out, "Lord, give me more of you."
Then, and only then, will I be patient.
And with this I draw near to Him and He draws near to me.
He is loving to me and it looks like patience. He is answering my prayer for my daughter to know the Lord. First, through me.
I pray she will love Him, serve Him and be fruitful. That she will experience His patient love by my hands.
I will BE patient, because of Him in me.
_________________________
Is it just me or do you struggle with patience, too? Where do you need more patience in your life? Do you desire the fruit or the One who grows it in you? Join me in wanting more of Our Lord and watching in amazement as He bears much fruit in our lives when our focus shifts.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Dec 01, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
In the beginning the Word already existed.
The Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He existed in the beginning with God.
God created everything through him,
and nothing was created except through him.
The Word gave life to everything that was created,
and his life brought light to everyone.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness can never extinguish it.
John 1:1-5
{SHARE IT! Click Here to use our NEW sharing tools.}
:angel:
A Soul Feast & Homemade Apple Pie
Dec 03, 2013 12:10 am | Elizabeth Anne
I like it when the communion assistant knows my name. I lift my slim rim to meet the silver V of the chalice. The blood of Christ shed for you, Beth. I say Amen and tilt the sliver of plastic, that liquid ruby sliding down, over wafer crumbs still in my mouth.
This soul feast—it's what's to sustain me in the week to come. But I'm never quite sure if I do it right.
Is this the day? The day I feel communion take hold in my body? The time the wafer and wine feed me week-long, nourish me, make me more Christ-like? I try the quick ACTS formula before communion, thinking it might ready my soul better, though worship during worship always seems better suited to the childless.
Adoration: God, I praise you, for you are mighty. Your wonders never cease.
Dispense raisin handfuls.
Confession: Dear Lord, there are so many ways I've failed you this week. I've been impatient, selfish, snapped at my kids, didn't love my husband as I should. I'm sorry. Please forgive ...
Retrieve matchbox car under the pew to quell rising squeal from 3 1/2 -year-old.
Thanksgiving: God, your blessings are many. You give us so much ...
Admonish 8-year-old for all-too-audible "is church almost over?"
Supplication: ...
The usher finally clears his throat; I'm not sure how long he's been waiting for us to retrieve our cups.
So, here I am, again, communion-complete. And, I feel content. I always do. I'm happy, whole, for this brief moment, until the kids start squabbling because someone accidentally stepped on someone else's foot. And, the nourishment ceases. Or, I cease to recognize it.
A quick text from my husband's cousin has turned into having all the family over for Sunday dinner—a group that includes great-grandma, my in-laws, my sister-in-law and her family, and, of course, the cousin and her family. There will be six kids total, four of them under six. I have a few hours to make and clean up from lunch, put the toddler down for his nap, prep dinner, tidy house, and make homemade apple pie.
Usually, I'd be all awhirl with frenzied activity, but this afternoon, I select a lower gear; I strap my phone on, runner-ready, and plug earphones in {though this is an exercise in paring and pastry}. A made-from-scratch apple pie takes time.
I spread out rinsed apples, chopping board, chef's knife, compost bucket, peeler. I tap Pandora on. Soon, I'm done peeling and start to make squares of cores. I slide the blade down one side, shaving off a cheek of white flesh; and repeat.
Ten Shekel Shirt starts singing "Beauty." I've never heard it before.
I slice thin, palest golden half-moons. The mound grows, and my mind leans into this minute alone, this music, this lyrical loveliness.
Tell me that mystery and majesty are
Drawing me
Sometimes when I get real
The greatest presence I can feel
It's like a fire inside that burns me deep
And I come alive
I'm slicing apples, and it's so stunning, this moment, my eyes prickle with joy. I've come alive to His splendor in this humble space, and it's nourish-worship, feeding my soul right now.
___________________________________________________________________
Perfect Apple Pie
Dough:
2 ½ cups flour
2 tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
11 tbsp. chilled unsalted butter cut into small pieces
7 tbsp chilled shortening (I use coconut oil instead for its health benefits and yummy taste!)
4 to 5 tbsp. ice water
Filling:
7 medium apples, peeled, cored, sliced
¼ cup each light brown sugar & granulated sugar
1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
½ to 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
¼ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. salt
2 tbsp. unsalted butter
1 tbsp. plus 1 tsp. cornstarch or arrowroot powder, if you have it
Method:
For dough, mix flour, sugar and salt in food processor. Add chilled butter and shortening and pulse until chunks are pea-sized or smaller. Sprinkle water over dough and pulse until dough holds together. Form dough into a ball with hands and separate in half; press each half into a disc, wrap up, and refrigerate for 30 to 60 minutes.
For filling, combines apples, sugars, lemon juice, spices, and salt in large bowl; toss and set aside at room temperature for 30 minutes (up to 3 hours). Drain liquid from apples. Add butter and liquid to a small saucepan and cook, swirling liquid over medium-high heat until syrupy, about 5 to 10 minutes. Transfer apples back to large bowl, toss with cornstarch, and pour syrup over apples.
Move oven rack to lowest position and heat to 425 degrees. Remove chilled dough and roll out bottom crust and place in a 9-inch pie plate. Fill with apple mixture and roll out and place top crust. Press edges to seal and cut about 4 steam vents in top crust. Bake on foil-covered sheet for 45 to 55 minutes or until juice bubble through slashes. Remove from oven and cool for at least 30 minutes to help the filling set. Serve warm or at room temperature.
:angel:
Getting Out of the Way of Yourself
Sarah Mae
I was going through some old posts of mine, and as I read them I thought, "These are pretty good."
Now before you think I'm being arrogant or some such thing, let me tell you that I struggle deeply with feeling like a fraud as a writer.
I fight and squirm when I have to write, and I've all but convinced myself that I have no business writing. So when I tell you that I said to myself that I actually like some of the things I've written, it's kind of a big deal to me. It tells me, maybe I can write, maybe it doesn't matter what I think so much as that I get out of my own way, keep my eyes on purposes of the kingdom, and just keep on writing. Ain't nobody got time to be neurotic. It's a self-disease, this constant critiquing of self.
And it just distracts us from the glory work at hand.
If you've got business to do, and God has put you in a place to do it, get out of your own way and get on with it.
"Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.
And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."
Hebrews 12:1
Throw off the constant self-critique and RUN! David's prayer in the Psalms isn't that he would search his own heart, but that God would search it and show him the way. I think we've been doing too much self-searching and we need to let God do the searching and the revealing and the healing.
How can we run if we keep looking this way and that, and checking our feet and wondering how we look as we run? Let's get all Eric Liddell with ourselves and just move, even if we look crazy in the process (apparently he looked all crazy when he ran, arms flailing). I'm okay with crazy, as long as I'm thoughtful and focused on the goal. Which reminds me, what is your goal?
My goal, my finish line, it's not to get to the end of my life and go, "Whew, done! Did well!" It's to run right into eternity into the arms of my savior, and I can only do that if my eyes keep directed at Him.
What direction are you going?
Friends, let's stop tripping over our own feet, our own inadequacies and quirks and not quite awesome grammar, and let's just run with whatever God has put inside us! Whatever it is! Writing, baking, mothering, clerking...whatever! Run, girl! Feel the wind, the Spirit in you as you move to His rhythm. Keep on.
He'll do the work in you, just keep on.
Love, Sarah Mae, SarahMae.com
:angel:
Don't Kick the Anthill
Lysa TerKeurst
I stood at the little red dirt mound watching ants. They were busy. I was not.
The afternoon had been a little too slow for me. Several of my friends had gotten an invitation to the community pool. Another friend was at camp for the week. Even my very last resort, the pigtailed aggravation that lived in the apartment below ours, was busy. "She's napping," her mom had informed me.
I walked away thinking, "She's 6 years old. Only two years younger than me and she still takes naps? That's the awfullest thing a mom could do to her child. And this is now the awfullest afternoon ever."
I sat on the swing of the sad little playground behind our apartment complex. I scuffed the toes of my red Keds, making lines in the dirt as I moved slowly back and forth. If a child could have died from boredom, I felt quite terminal at that moment.
Then I spotted the anthill.
I walked over and stood there. Just about the time I was thinking about how lucky all those ants were to have so many friends, I heard a scratchy little voice call out to me.
"I bet you won't stick your foot through that anthill." Pigtailed girl had woken up from her afternoon slumber. And for heaven's sake I would not, could not be shamed by a girl who still took naps.
I knew with my mind I shouldn't kick the anthill. I knew with my heart I shouldn't kick the anthill. And I knew deep down in my soul I shouldn't kick the anthill. I knew. Every part of me knew I should walk away from the anthill.
But some silly part of my mouth betrayed me.
"Yes, I will!" I declared as I kicked my foot into the middle of ant Hades.
It didn't take long to feel as if someone had lit 1,000 needles on fire and was stabbing me mercilessly.
Since that day I haven't kicked an anthill. At least not in the literal sense.
But I have gotten myself into situations where I invited trouble into my life that just didn't need to be there. Especially in the area of saying yes to something I absolutely should say no to.
I will know with my mind I should say no. I will know with my heart I should say no. I will know deep down in my soul I should say no.
But then my mouth will betray me, "Yes, of course I will do that."
And then?
The sting of the three d's comes...
Dread – As I write yet another thing on my schedule, I feel the weight of overload.
Disappointment – In order to make this happen, I will disappoint someone. Time is like money in the bank – there is only so much of it. And once it runs out, any further expenditures will cause an overdrawn account.
Drama – Dread and disappointment will ratchet my emotions to a tipping point. A tipping point that's not healthy for me or those with whom I do life.
Here's what I'm trying to preach to myself: Just because I can do something doesn't mean I should do it.
I kicked the anthill that day for three reasons... I thought it proved I was something. I thought it would impress nap girl. And because I didn't think through the cost beforehand.
Maybe, before saying yes to one more thing on my schedule today, I should ask myself...
Am I trying to prove something?
Am I trying to impress someone?
Have I thought through the cost of saying yes?
It's not bad to say yes to opportunities. But we really should consider whether this is an assignment or an anthill.
Take the assignment if it's yours. But, don't kick the anthills.
"He who heeds discipline shows the way to life, but whoever ignores correction leads others astray," (Proverbs 10:17).
By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:
Peace in the Making
Dec 07, 2013 12:20 am | Sarah Markley
It happened in the kitchen.
Around a skillet of cheesy eggs and another one full of turkey bacon. Breakfast for dinner only happens when Daddy is home late from work.
Everything else in my life has been calling so loudly. The children's homework. The house that does not clean itself. The laundry baskets and Christmas planning, the holiday parties that need wrapped hostess gifts and the school programs. The other for-pay jobs I do each day even when I don't have time.
The details. Oh, the details that keep us crawling to the finish line of Christmas.
It all screams so big and loud so that even my own brain cannot fix itself on anything for more than a moment.
And I must write. I must. Not for my blog or my {unwritten} book or for anyone else. But for my own sanity.
But there hasn't been a stitch of time. Each stolen minute is filled with the loud calls from everything else in my life and one needs quiet to create, right?
I sat for an hour with a blinking cursor while I answered everyone else's calls except the ones that would calm the urgency inside.
So tonight I lost all sense of adulthood and advent and crumpled once again into a folded mess of a cardigan, jeans and boots in the dining room.
It was then I decided that breakfast for dinner was just as good as anything.
I asked the eleven-year-old to make the eggs and the seven-year-old to empty the dishwasher. And they sensed I was needy. I'd already apologized forty-five thousand times in the last hour.
So they obeyed with wide, empathetic eyes.
I pulled the bacon out of the refrigerator and retrieved the skillets from where I'd hidden them inside the oven.
"Maybe you need a few minutes by yourself, Mama." The oldest said as she swept crumbs from the counter. "I can make dinner." My heart. My grief at my own brokenness. My whole spirit begging not to be a failure as a mother.
It was all that it took to break my sense of urgency and mania.
"No. Let's do it together." Burners on. Skillets hot. Bacon dropped onto the heat. And we moved in the kitchen together. All three of us, two generations of sensitivity and womanhood and youth as we worked together to create a simple meal.
She beat the eggs. "Like this, Mama?"
She used a fork instead of a whisk.
"Yes, now add a bit of milk."
The seven-year-old found a step stool to reach the high cabinet. She put the glasses away while her little voice sang a happy song she'd heard on the way to school this morning.
"The princess and the frog..." she sang while her sister poured eggs into the skillet.
There was peace in the making, in the creating and even in the working tonight, beauty in the simplicity of a meal made and a meal eaten together. There was redemption in the whisking of yolk and white and in the sizzling of meat on a stovetop. There was grace in the teaching and in the praise and in the song.
And these girls teach me over and over again what it means to be a woman. They teach me over and over again what grace with hands and feet look like. And they teach me the quiet in the heart of a Sabbath Savior that loves to meet us when we are weak.
:angel:
Grace for Your Unmerry Moments
Dec 09, 2013 12:20 am | Holley Gerth
Confession: Sometimes I have a bad attitude at the holidays {please tell me I'm not the only one}. I want peace on earth but then I wind up feeling tempted to run over people with my shopping cart when they're rude. I want to spread cheer but then I get PMS and just want to spread chocolate on every surface I can find. I want to shine brightly like the lights on a Christmas tree but then I get too busy and just want to say "lights out" so I can get some sleep.
I used to feel guilty about this quite a bit. What kind of person was I if I got all grumpy at the most wonderful time of year? And besides that, it's the birthday of Jesus. Surely I must be a heathen and not know it. Dang. But then I realized this: Even if the holidays are here I'm still human. And there's not some super-spirituality switch I can flip on like the lights on the Griswold's house at Christmas. No, ma'am.
Struggling at the holidays is just proof that what Christmas is all about is true: I need a Savior. And the same grace that covers me the rest of the year is there for me in my unmerry moments, too.
Does this mean I just do and say whatever I want? Nope. But it does mean that when I mess up and fall short of the expectations of myself and others, it's okay. It's not a time for guilt and condemnation. It's a time for celebration because the moments when I fall are when the message of Christmas means most of all.
Crazy? Yep. But so is sending the Son of God to be born in a manger. The whole gospel is full of surprises and upside-down thinking. That's the wonder of it all.
So if you've been threatening to give yourself a lump of coal for Christmas because you just can't seem to get it together, take it a bit easier on yourself today. Remember that you're loved, accepted and that God doesn't want perfection from you. Instead he wants to give you whatever it is you need–perhaps a bit more patience, some laughter and a lot of extra grace. And you can share all of those good gifts with your friends, family and even the person you thought about running over with your shopping cart, too.
XOXO
Holley Gerth, best-selling author or You're Already Amazing {great for Christmas gifts!}
:angel:
Sometimes I Forget To Be Grateful
Dec 13, 2013 12:20 am | Dawn Camp
In the two weeks before Thanksgiving, our dishwasher quit emptying out the dirty water; our washing machine wouldn't spin at the end of the rinse cycle; and our old faithful van started herking and jerking in a way that frightened me but delighted my children, who declared it as good as sitting in a massage chair.
My husband is an awesome DIYer. We only hand-washed dishes for three days while he determined the problem and then ordered and replaced the dishwasher pump. Eight people generate an awful lot of dirty dishes. We only flooded the kitchen twice in the repair process.
The washing machine quit spinning out the water at the end of the rinse cycle on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Eight people produce as many dirty clothes and towels as dishes. I stayed calm through the analysis and repair process on the dishwasher, but the washing machine was a different story.
My husband stayed up until 1:30 a.m. Tuesday night going back and forth between the computer (repairclinic.com and YouTube washing machine repair videos) and taking the machine apart, but still no definite solution.
Wednesday morning I kicked into what-if-I-need-a-new-washing-machine? mode, so I left home and spent the day researching the latest models. I found washers larger than mine, with more settings than mine, and lovelier than mine (red!) and I was smitten. Smitten. {Yes, I'm the kind of girl who can be smitten by a washing machine.}
I hardly noticed the transition from fact finding to checking delivery dates. My husband later told me I wasn't supposed to shop, just research. When I looked puzzled, he said, "Fact finding with the intent to purchase is shopping." Live and learn.
He stayed up until 2 a.m. working on it that night. The result? You guessed it. He figured out how to fix the washing machine, too. Admittedly, there were moments when I wasn't sure I wanted it to work again . . .
I'd seen the greener grass on the other side of the fence.
When we thought the transmission might be going out on the van I've driven for 11 years and 206K+ miles, I imagined power door locks that work (mine quit); no more dings and cracks in the window (a 15-passenger van attracts rocks to the glass and other people's car doors to the sides—it's a big target). In my wilder thoughts I envisioned heated seats, dual sunroofs, and easily parking in any space.
But our mechanic replaced two coils (whatever they are) and that van was back in business.
We're familiar with the phrase What Would Jesus Do?, but lately I've been thinking what would Jesus own? If He walked among us now, in 2013, I'm willing to bet my washing machine, dishwasher, car, phone, and computer would be nicer than His.
Would He even have those things?
It's easy to become discontent. To want more. To forget to be grateful for what He's given me. My blessings come from God. Being dissatisfied with what I have is like saying, "I'm not happy with what you've given me," and that's not where I want my heart to be.
I did get something new in the process: a rearranged and more functional laundry room. The washing machine fact finding/shopping trip gave us the idea to stack our washer and dryer, and then we brought a large set of metal shelves in from the garage and put them on the side of the wall where the dryer used to be. I have loads of extra storage space and even a bright and cozy rug on the floor. Cost: nothing.
At Christmas, more than ever, I want to model for my children a grateful heart and a deeper appreciation for what I've been given. Don't you?
What simple blessings are you thankful for today?
by Dawn Camp at My Home Sweet Home, newly grateful for her old ride and appliances
:angel:
The Noise & the Notes
Dec 14, 2013 12:20 am | Angie Smith
If I'm being honest with you, I only went to the Christmas tree place because I knew my kids would want to look back and see pictures of me there with them.
I didn't want them to think I was a Scrooge, or that I was preoccupied, or that I didn't care about all the moments that will string together in their minds to create childhood memories. So I did go, and I smiled when the flash went off, but I wasn't really there.
I knew we were going to be getting on a bus in two days and we weren't going to be back for nearly three weeks. I was panicked about packing, getting my work in order to bring with me to make sure I wasn't falling behind, and mentally gearing up for being on the road touring in such a hectic season.
Todd dragged the tree into the house while the kids bounced around and plotted ornament strategy. I walked behind him, kneeling intermittently and lamenting the number of pine needles being embedded in the carpet after every step.
We weren't going to even see the tree for more than a few days total, so we were tempted to just bypass the whole thing, but again, THE MENTAL SCRAPBOOK AND ALL.
It was late by the time it stood up in its metal base, and Todd made a makeshift untangling station for the lights while the kids camped out on the floor waiting for the big moment. Some time later (and my memory is fuzzy, but I believe it was at least 10 hours), the plug slipped into the wall and all the room filled with hazy blues and yellows, reds and greens, and the sense that it might just be well after all.
They wanted to decorate it because Todd was leaving in the morning, but the process of digging ornaments out was a little daunting at 11 pm, so we kissed their heads and whispered, "Tomorrow."
I slept late, waking to the sounds of little voices above me and feet running back and forth in a hallway they don't normally use. I slipped on my glasses and stumbled up the stairs to find what can only be described as, "Christmas just vomited everywhere."
They had found the boxes tucked deep in closets and had literally taken out any item that even remotely resembled a holiday theme.
There was a garden picket sign, propped against the wall pointing the way to a pumpkin patch. It sat next to a rocking chair that had been decorated (and I use this term very loosely) with at least three full strands of garland and a snowman I don't have the heart to throw away despite the fact that our dog swallowed half his face a couple years ago.
I bet he was happy to see what was outside that box. Well, with his good eye at least.
I stood in the doorway, my stomach turning, and wondered how in the world I was going to clean this up on top of everything else I was supposed to be doing. They had discovered a horrific instrumental Christmas CD somewhere in the chaos, and it was playing in the background of what I had now decided was my official undoing.
I was motionless as they continued their frenzied routine, and I glanced down to see the dog dressed in a Christmas tree bedskirt, his eyes fixed on the wall in what appeared to be a therapeutic coping mechanism.
Finally, Charlotte looked up at me.
"Hi Mommy!" she shouted, and the others turned to face me, their eyes bright with anticipation over what would surely be my awestruck praise.
I fell short of the goal, stuttering out the words, "Is that an Easter bunny?" while pointing at the mantel.
Three different manger scenes were spread out on the ground like a crime scene, and the bubble wrap was being put to good use by Kate. Repeatedly.
My eyes welled up with tears, my hands covering my face instinctively so I wouldn't ruin their celebration. Abby knew right away because she always does, and she started walking over to me while I shrank to a sitting position. Between the music, the pop-pop-pop-pop of bubble wrap and the lack of one square inch of visible carpet, I had simply reached the end of my mental rope.
"Mommy, are you okay?" She whispered. I nodded yes but my shoulders shook in disagreement.
Abby sat with me for a few minutes while I got myself together, trying to dig through the clutter in my mind before facing the clutter on the floor.
What I wanted was what I saw everywhere else. A warm fire and a string of popcorn, the smell of hot chocolate and the sound of ANYTHING BUT THAT MUSIC.
It's the kind of scene I remember from my own childhood, and I want them to have it, too. And now it was all a mess. Goblins and shepherds and pastel eggs were the least of my worries; I felt like I had failed to give them this moment and now they were grabbing at what was left of it.
Truly, it was a ridiculous scene.
And one I will never forget.
Because when I finally opened my eyes I saw a joy I feared I had stolen. In all my "trying to make it perfect" sketches of what Christmas should look like, this would never have occurred to me.
But God uses moments when you can't see past yourself to remind you that He can.
Baby Jesus was lying on His side facing a string of Valentine's Day hearts, and I was captivated by the simplicity of what I saw.
Despite everything, He remained.
I begged God to bring me peace, my eyes focused on the tiny figurine, and two words echoed through my mind:
He did.
He is real, you know.
More real than anything we could haphazardly string around the room in an attempt to hasten the season of hope.
He saw me smile for the camera and make a tilting motion with my hands when Todd asked if the tree was straight. He saw me on my knees, picking pine needles from the path, and He saw me climb the stairs the next day.
And if you ask me, He knew that somehow in the hustle of boxes and seasons, that baby would lie in front of me speaking a thousand volumes about what I was missing all along.
Smile for the camera, but look past it to Me.
When the tree is crooked and your head is shaking, remember why it stands here at all.
When you find yourself on your knees, desperate to make things right and clean and good, stay there and worship the One who did.
Climb up to the mess of your days, a life that feels scattered and out of order, with more than you think you can fix, and find Me right in the middle of it all.
It's not a new story – this "trying to focus on the Lord instead of all the other Christmas hoopla" theme. I know that.
But maybe today you needed to be reminded as much as I did to look beyond the boxes and the hours, the nagging sense that you have to get it right, and the countless obstacles that come against a grateful heart.
It is a mess; I won't deny it. And the music is often noise instead of notes.
We're paralyzed by expectation and forgetful of the expectancy.
It looks all wrong from the doorway sometimes, doesn't it?
My prayer for you (and for myself) is that I am reminded daily how little my own hands can do to "make" Christmas. After all, it's not about what they might remember me doing anyway.
It's Him I want them to remember – more than the soundtrack of our days and the smell of a fresh-cut tree.
And so I picked up the baby, tenderly placed Him in the manger, and whispered into the chaos of it all:
Lord...let them never forget.
:angel:
A Sunday Scripture
Dec 15, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about:
His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.
But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."
All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:
"The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel" (which means "God with us").
When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife.
Matthew 1:18-24
:angel:
A Lamp That Will Light the Whole World
Dec 16, 2013 12:20 am | Emily Freeman
Lately it's been a struggle for me to write. It's a combination of the natural post-partum discouragement that comes a few months after releasing a book combined with the simple fact that I haven't been writing consistently.
When writing isn't a regular part of my day, it becomes more and more of a big deal. And anything feeling like a big deal makes it harder to approach.
I read somewhere that writer's block isn't really a thing. No one ever has talkers block. And writing is just talking on paper.
We only have writer's block when we think what we write has to actually be good, and the pressure of writing something good keeps us from writing at all.
When I don't write every day, or nearly every day, this is what happens to me. Maybe you too.
Today, it's time to write. I fiddle with my ear buds. There isn't any music in them, only silence. I use them as plugs to drown out the noise of the house, the dog, even the rain. Sometimes the sound of the rain inspires. Today, it annoys.
Julia Cameron says creativity is a lamp, not a candle.
Plug it in, turn it on and the current does its work to light the room. Not necessarily glamorous. But functional. Useful. Lit.
A candle is romantic, offering a more beautiful image of the creative life – a Muse visiting with orange, yellow skirts, dancing in the corner of the room. But fire on a wick flickers with the wind and blows out in a puff of smoke.
It's mysterious and peaceful, but it's hard to hold onto.
It's true, I would rather look at myself in a mirror by candlelight than lamplight. But candles don't show the full picture. And they aren't powerful enough to light the room.
John and I went to hear Andrew Peterson on Saturday night. He sang with Jill Phillips, Andy Gullahorn, Ben Shive, Andrew Osenga and Ellie Holcomb in their annual Behold the Lamb of God tour. My soul swelled up in that room because every note and lyric pointed straight to Christ, our hope of glory.
Proverb 29:18 says where there is no vision, the people perish.
No hope? No life.
The concert Saturday was a reminder of hope, a reminder of the one story the Bible tells, one of a brave little boy who, as C.S. Lewis points out in Mere Christianity, "came as a baby because he needed to slip quietly, even clandestinely, through enemy lines."
Maybe the people were waiting for a candle, a romantic idea of a Savior, of a powerful king with an obvious agenda. Instead, they got a lamp in the form of a baby. An unlikely hero from an ordinary family born in a stable on the outskirts of town.
A lamp who seemed unremarkable and non-descript.
A lamp who was only inspiration for those who had the eyes to see it.
But a Lamp who would light the whole world.
In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
Luke 2:8-11
:angel:
Pregnant with Christmas: The Birthing
Dec 18, 2013 12:20 am | Lisa-Jo Baker
Lisa-Jo wrote a beautiful Advent series a while back called Pregnant with Christmas. Today's post was the final part of that series.
The first time I give birth, I am afraid. I am in South Africa, home after a decade away, and afraid of the vast unknown of child birth.
The second time I give birth, I am more afraid. Because this time I know what lies ahead.
I realize that pregnancy, like marriage, is an act of courage and submission.
"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May your word to me be fulfilled." Luke 1:38
For the joy set before him, he endured the cross. Hebrews 12:1
Every second-time mother knows the intimate joy of holding in her arms a being whose life is so new, so delicate, its skin is still translucent with heaven. She knows the smell of baby breath and the delicate warmth of a heart that is beating with all four chambers for the first time.
She knows.
But she also remembers.
She remembers the hard work of growing, carrying, and delivering that child into the world. She bears scars. And she needs to gird her courage around about her to do it again.
Jesus knew why he was coming. Birthed of a mother, he came to deliver us. He came to carry us in his sinless heart and birth us into his Father's family. And he knew what the labor pains would feel like and what the delivery would cost him.
Death and life. Ask any pregnant mother and you will find her thoughts equally consumed by both. Birth is hard and messy work. It is intimate and exposed at the same time. And the God born in a barn ended his days executed like a common criminal. Bloody, messy journey. A thirty three year gestation period to deliver us into the hands of God the Father.
"I have revealed you to those whom you gave me out of the world. They were yours; you gave them to me and they have obeyed your word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you...Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one." John 17:6-12
He was born so that we might have life – and have it to the full.
I want to sing my thanks with the angels.
I want to run to kneel by his side with the shepherds.
I want to give him extravagant and exotic gifts.
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." Luke 2:14
Even though I know they'd be mere finger paintings, macaroni necklaces, mere doodles outside the lines to the King of the Cosmos. But I also know he'd treasure them.
Because I am his daughter. Carried, birthed, delivered.
And so are you.
And so are you.
:angel:
More Love
Dec 19, 2013 12:20 am | Deidra Riggs
We moved around a lot when I was young, but by the time I was three years old, we'd settled into a little yellow cape cod on a suburban cul-de-sac in New Jersey. My dad commuted over the bridge into the city each day for work. My mom taught piano lessons in our living room and worked herself into the plow position with her girlfriends on the Oriental rug.
In the summer my sister and I climbed trees, rode our bikes, and ran through the sprinklers in the front yard. In the fall I walked to school, on a trail that someone had named the Pony Path. But as soon as the temperature dipped just a bit, my thoughts turned directly to Christmas.
Christmas meant Virginia. And grandparents. And more love than one child could ever hold onto.
Each Christmas, my parents packed up the car and drove us South – below the Mason-Dixon line – to the state where they'd both grown up. After hours of driving, we'd pull up in front of my grandparents' house, my mom and dad weary from traveling so far. No matter what time of day we arrived, my grandmother would fling open the door and come running to greet us. Her arms spread wide, my grandmother called to us as she ran to the sidewalk to squeeze us tight. Each time I thought my heart would burst wide open from all the love that she poured in it.
I thought surely one day the love would just spill out all over the sidewalk and folks would have to step around it on their way to work on Monday. They'd shake their heads and glance up at the porch there where my grandparents lived. They'd say to one another, "Ida's children must be home again. Looks as if they brought the grandchildren, too. Just look at all that love piled up here on this sidewalk! More love than one child could ever hold onto!"
Inside, I'd sit at the kitchen table with the chrome legs and Formica top that was flecked with spots of color on a white background. On the stove, a dollop of sweet cream butter melted its way to the bottom of a pan of White House applesauce that burped slow bubbles over a soft blue flame. I'd swing my legs and rest my chin on my hands on the top of that table. I don't know if we talked or not – or if it was good enough just to be there, sharing space with my grandmother and her love.
On Christmas Eve, she'd tuck me into bed beneath a window that looked out onto the alley in back. I'd wait until she'd kissed my forehead and shut the door behind her, then I'd scramble up onto my knees and press my forehead to the glass, and watch for shooting stars that might streak a path across the night. At first light I'd spring from bed and wake the house with fits of joy, then tumble down the staircase into one more Christmas morn.
It was extravagant.
All day long the love dripped from the ceilings and crammed its way into the corners and spilled out from beneath the tree in circles that were piled up high. And it seeped down into the marrow of my bones and found a home and still, it was far more than one child could hold onto. I tried to catch my breath and wondered at the miracle of love so great as this.
One year, on that trip across the highways to Virginia, we breezed past suburbs and bungalows on cul-de-sacs with tiny, sparkling, colored lights glowing and twinkling and dancing as we passed by. It was late and dark and we'd been riding for awhile in silence. But then, my mother exhaled deep and turned from the glass to face us in the darkness of the car. A band of light reflected across my dad's eyes as he drove us and he watched my mother as she said, "Do you see all of the beautiful lights? Aren't they just beautiful?" And I remember nodding and thinking that I especially liked the white lights that hung across the garage door we had just passed by. I remember thinking that the world was filled with wonder.
"You know," my mother said, "we wouldn't have all of this if it hadn't been for Jesus."
I thought that she just meant the lights. We wouldn't have the lights if it hadn't been for Jesus. But what she meant was all of it. The love piled up on the sidewalk while applesauce cooked on the stove. The love shared at the kitchen table and the window that looked out over the alley while stars left streaks across the sky. The kisses on my forehead and the love that dripped down from the ceiling and Light to shine and lead the way.
We wouldn't have this extravagant Love that reaches for us in the dark and fills up our hearts and seeps into our marrow and makes us press our foreheads to the glass to search for light across the sky.
:angel:
If You're Longing For Beauty: God's Winter Song For You
Dec 21, 2013 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray
"Through the many winters, Your touch brings me comfort
Your song lifts me up and carries me to Spring...
Through all the tears to come, All my many trials
Till the end of my longest night, I will search for you..."
~ Michael McDonald, Through the Many Winters
Have ever seen the snow fall in the moonlight?
It falls tenderly, fine like the whispers of a newborn's eyelashes, curling ever so gently as she dreams.
It cascades down through a clear winter night sky, floating, like the last autumn leaf carried down from yesterday's rainfall.
I was bundled warm, making my steps slowly outside, enveloped by the safety of the mountains in a canyon.
It was so still.
And so dark.
And yet the moon shone so bright.
The trees all beautifully bare stretched their arms up, like a child reaching out to catch snow fall.
As I paused along the trail, I looked up at the stars dotting the horizon, I could hear the trickle of a creek echoing down below.
It was a perfect night.
I was young then and yet, I understood what it meant to feel lonely.
Alone.
Everything Beautiful and Quiet
Something about that moment, surrounded by everything beautiful and quiet, spoke to me.
I found my voice crying.
Because beauty reminded me I wanted comfort.
I needed peace.
I wanted to be held.
I was tired.
I desperately wanted to rest.
But, I cried bitterly not knowing how. I wondered where God was in all this, and I felt so small and lost.
As I looked up at the stars through the blur of tears, they seemed to shimmer, dancing like water sparkling over pebbles running in the creek early spring.
Somewhere in my burning heart, that first star of Christmas that the wise men glimpsed one night and followed for oh-so-long — across so many deserts — moved in me that lonely night.
That Traveling Star
I thought about that traveling star.
How bright it spoke.
How that light brought them comfort.
How that light carried them one night at a time. One hour at a time.
Until it brought them to Jesus.
Until it brought the search for hope to end in joy.
All the many trials, found along their search, yet the wise men did not stop.
Through Our Many Winters
Through our many winters, God will never stop carrying us on our journeys.
We can keep following.
As dark as the night gets, God's light will never disappear.
Even when our courage and strength fails us, God will give us the grace — even if just for a moment — to search for the light.
And He'll give us more grace to follow where it leads us, no matter where life's journeys take us.
Because one night, thousands of years ago, before you and I were born, Jesus knew we would need Someone, to help us make it through the night.
Jesus stepped into the darkness, to live every day and every night we have cherished and feared to embrace.
Jesus lived the hard life every day with purpose.
Because He wanted to become the Light that would make His home in us.
Forever and always.
A Sign
In the darkest of nights, God placed a star in the sky.
This star was a sign.
That I can keep journeying no matter how far I needed to travel.
Because Jesus is with me.
Jesus is my light.
As we journey into the last few days before Christmas, you may find yourself wondering what the new year holds for you. Your loved ones. Your friends. Or your dreams.
Find some alone time. For quiet. Journal some words. Read the Christmas Story when the lights have been turned down low. Enter a different space listening to music with the Christmas tree lit after everyone has gone to bed.
Give yourself permission to steal a moment to be alone with God.
Reflect on the signs God has placed on your path.
And if the aloneness feels too hopeless like it did for me, dare to let someone in. Call someone. Tell them your story. Dare to be vulnerable. Even at Christmas.
Everyone, after all is in the middle of a journey. Everyone wants someone to come alongside them in the waiting, searching for God's light in new ways. Jesus Himself chose to take the long journey home from a manger to a cross, so we don't have to travel alone anymore today.
God's Winter Song
Let beauty remind you.
We all need comfort.
We all long for peace.
You were made to be loved.
You were made to be held.
You were never made to be alone.
You were made to find rest.
Put on a warm coat. Wrap a scarf around yourself, slip your hands in some gloves, and quietly put on your hat. Step outside, if just for a moment.
Look up as you watch your breath warm the winter air.
See the stars.
And listen.
Like snow falling through winter, hear God's winter song echoing –
I came for you then.
I'm here for you now.
You don't have to be alone anymore.
In the moonlight.
I see you.
I am with you.
I love you.
You can have peace, hope, joy and love with me.
Hear God's winter song in you.
You are His.
"Even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you."
~ Psalm 139:12
~~~~~
How is God using beauty to touch your heart this Christmas?
How are you following the Star God's placed on your journey of faith?
Pull up a chair. Pause for a moment. Share your voice here. Click to comment.
~~~~~
Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.
{ For soulful encouragement on the journey of faith, join me at Faith Barista.
Swap some stories as they're being lived. As is. }
:angel:
For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given:
and the government shall be upon his shoulder:
and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor,
The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end,
upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it,
and to establish it with judgment and with justice
from henceforth even for ever.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this.
Isaiah 9:6-7
:angel:
The Day After Christmas: How to Live After the Miracle
Dec 24, 2013 12:20 am | Stephanie Bryant
The day after Christmas.
We don't like to think about it as we plan for the big day tomorrow. But it always follows Christmas. Every year.
December 26th can feel like a deflated balloon after the most special of birthday parties.
Depression or regret can start to take root, and I want to consume more dessert (for breakfast) as my focus shifts to goals for the new year.
Reading Luke 2 this year left me wondering what the day after Jesus's birth was like for those that witnessed firsthand this blessed miracle. Let's put ourselves in the place of each of the main characters for just a moment:
The shepherds are visited by an angel and told the Savior of the world has been born. God had sent the angel to tell them to go find Him. The God of the Universe broke through the cosmos and the social barriers of the day to tell these lowly-status men Great News . . . and invite them to see it firsthand. They saw the Army of Angels praising God! Then, off to see the Savior of the World.
Mary was recovering from delivering a baby. Yes, a miracle from the Lord, the One all of eternity had awaited, but still a baby. She had sweat and pushed and cried among the animals on hay. She didn't have a cute layette to dress Him in but had to wrap him in cloth scraps and put Him in a trough. She watched as the brightest star she had ever seen shone over her son's manger and strangers began to come and bow before Him. She kept these things in her heart as any young mother would do, making memories in her mind that no camera could truly capture.
Three men traveled from distant lands to see what prophecy had foretold. They were wise and kings in their own regard. But this was what they had studied, charted stars for. They curiously came to see the King of Kings.
Most representations of this scene bring a lump to my throat and tears of joy. How humble and glorious all at the same time! If in a movie, the music crescendos and the credits roll.
But what happened the following morning? What did the day after Jesus's birth bring?
Life continued.
The shepherds shared this Great Joy with those in town but went back to watching their flocks and working their herds. They went back to work.
Mary was feeding our Lord, changing his cloth diapers and recovering herself. I'm sure Mary and Joseph were exhausted from their journey to Bethlehem and already sleep deprived as new parents quickly become. They were overjoyed by this Miracle that God had given them. I'm sure consumed with thoughts of "What does this mean?" and prayers to be the parents that Jesus needed. Mary and Joseph began raising Jesus.
The wise men returned to their lands to share what they had experienced. I'm sure they ruled their households differently now. They had seen the light and knew the True Glory. Each would be a different king because of that night in the manger. Each returned to their role as wise man and king.
Each of the God-chosen individuals had witnessed The Truth, experienced Jesus for the first time and He had set them free. Free to be. . . to be the person God had created them to be and to live the life, work the role He had placed them in.
Each shared with others their experience, their encounter with Jesus in their own way. Each went to work. Each embraced the role they had been given by The Father of the Christ Child.
We will experience the Savior, Emmanuel & the King of Kings tomorrow. It's His birthday we're celebrating.
But on December 26th, how do you live in freedom? To do the work. To share this great joy, Good News you have witnessed and experienced in your own heart?
How will you share with others about your experience with the Christ Child?
What will you do as you go back to work in the fields?
How will you rule in your household differently because you've encountered the King of Kings?
Because what we do after the miracle is as important as experiencing the miracle itself.
:angel:
A Winter's (Tree) Tale
Dec 24, 2013 12:10 am | Aubrey Sampson
Each December the weather in Chicago transforms into a super-villain, wielding the cold like a weapon, freezing everything in its path. A few years ago, with winter's formidable appearance on the forecast, I sent my husband and three sons to choose a Christmas tree before the roads were rendered useless. I stayed behind and began unpacking ornaments, heating up cocoa, and digging out holiday music, all to set the tree-trimming mood.
A few hours later they returned, mischievous smiles on their faces. "Guess what we got?"
My husband lugged six enormous cardboard boxes into our living room. The boys declared, "Surprise, Mom! It's the biggest tree in the world!"
I pride myself as an easy-going woman. I live with four of the male species, so I'm not generally rattled when they come home with things like dead cockroaches or the latest fart joke. But, I also consider myself a cultivator of beauty and simplicity. When I imagined our Christmas tree, it was charming. It was tasteful. It was alive.
I never envisioned a monstrosity of a plastic tree masquerading as a Douglas fir and towering three times the height of my husband. Standing eighteen-feet tall, six-feet wide, and pre-lit with brash blinking lights, the thing is gaudy enough to have its own act in Vegas.
Still, I could've responded with a teeny bit more patience.
"What in the world were you thinking? I don't care if you get a refund or ya' burn it. Get it out."
And just in case my point wasn't clear, "By the way, you've ruined Christmas."
The boys started crying. My husband slammed a door.
The winter villain had struck down in our home, crushing everyone's dreams, all because I wasn't getting the picturesque Christmas I demanded.
That night, after everyone was in bed (cocoa untouched, ornaments unhung), I snuck downstairs to examine the tree, trying to muster some ounce of grace for it. Instead, I sat on the couch and bawled. God, I need you to help me let go.
The boys spent the next day unwrapping their great-grandparents' handmade ornaments— the wooden rocking horse, the toadstool, the steeple, the manger— and hung them on the new tree with wire that my late Papa himself, fifty winters earlier, had twisted with love.
He, a soldier, fell for my grandma when she asked what he did in the army.
"Tanks," he answered.
"You're welcome," her witty response.
They were married the following year, for fifty-six more, until the day he died.
I imagined the two of them carving, sanding, and painting these ornaments. Fantasizing about future grand and great-grandfingers that would one day unwrap their advent treasures.
I realized that my family and our Christmas memories are the fullness of that dream.
"Hey guys," I confessed sheepishly, "Mama owes you and daddy an apology. I'm so sorry about how I acted last night. Can we please start over? Thank you for bringing home this...this...absolutely incredible tree."
That evening, in a pile of giggles and whispers about gifts to come, the boys fell asleep under their beloved giant. Their chubby cheeks flashed red, green, and blue under the twinkling lights.
This year, as winter begins her ascent and as we set up the tree that won't quit, there is a part of me that still craves a postcard Christmas; white lights on a quaint blue spruce. But, then I stop to praise God for our oversized tree.
It is, after all, my very tangible reminder that He creates warmth and light.
He thaws even the coldest of seasons.
:angel:
A Christmas Scripture
Dec 25, 2013 12:20 am | incourage
An angel of the Lord appeared to them,
and the glory of the Lord shone around them,
and they were terrified.
But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid.
I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.
Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you;
he is the Messiah, the Lord.
This will be a sign to you:
You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."
Luke 2:9-14
May today be the happiest, warmest, most Christ-filled holiday for you and yours!
Merry Christmas!
Love,
the (in)courage team
:angel:
For all the Married Ladies
Dec 27, 2013 12:20 am | Robin Dance
When you read this, it will be the Friday after Christmas when children are home from school and some families are still on the road. Many are braving the mall to take back what doesn't fit or to empty gift cards when prices are at year-end lows. Surfing the internet isn't the highest priority, even among the most devoted enthusiasts.
A perfect time for personal confession, yes?
Ok...deep breaths...here goes...
*
*
*
My marriage isn't perfect and I envy those that seem to be.
What? You say there's no such thing as a perfect marriage?? But it sure looks like it on the internet...
Instagram shots of hand-holding couples looking happy – no, downright blissful.
Facebook updates dripping with praise about how thoughtful/generous/funny one spouse is to another (on the day yours forgot your anniversary).
Blog posts extolling the virtue of a wife or the victories of a husband.
Husbands and wives who tweet love notes to one another, who sound so gloriously happy.
Or maybe in your real world, you see marital perfection at church on Sunday morning or at work on Monday morning or in your head every morning.
From observing one tiny piece of a puzzle, you make flawed comparisons upon which you draw faulty conclusions, and the image you construct isn't just imperfect, it's dangerous.
It's hurting your marriage.
It hurts mine.
Comparing our marriages to anyone else's is wrong.
If things are going well for you, it's risky because it can foster a sense of superiority or complacency; pride is a threat to your relationship (dare I remind you what it precedes?). If things aren't going well, it's risky because it can create unreasonable expectations or justify or excuse sin, all potentially damaging.
Marriage is wonderful for so many reasons but that doesn't mean it's always easy (I wonder why it has to be so hard sometimes). I'm thankful for seasons filled with roses and sunshine, but over 26 years our marriage has weathered storms and negotiated thorny valleys. Among many important lessons, I've learned this this powerful truth:
Love isn't a feeling and it isn't in a falling; it's in the staying during Winter's darkest days.
Lovies, if you're in a season when all feels hopeless, please don't give in to it. Hang in there. Persevere. Get through it. When change seems impossible, pray for the eyes to see what God is accomplishing in you during this time.
Love isn't about your feelings; love is your decision to honor a commitment, a covenant...a King.
Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad...and sometimes it's downright ugly.
As you consider New Year's resolutions...
as you sift though a lot of words to find your One Word...
as you continue to count 1000 gifts or list your goals for 2014...
will you plan to invest in the single most important relationship you have on this earth?
Are you willing to invest in the single most important relationship you have on this earth?
(Before anyone wants to take me to task, I'm writing this for a ministry site to women, assuming your priority relationship is with Christ.)
Five suggestions to help you get started:
1. Plan an overnight getaway without your children. Do whatever you can to make this happen, and while you're away, be fully present with one another. If you're celebrating a milestone anniversary or if it's been a long while (or never), splurge for an extra nice place. Resist thinking "we can't afford it." It might well be the best investment you make all year.
2. Practice what 1 Corinthians 13 and Philippians 2:1-4 preach. Be intentional about incorporating these actions into your everyday love expressions. Speak love with words, yes, but also with what you do and how you respond.
3. While you finally realize you can't change him, remember you can change yourself. We want our husbands to be mind readers and, intuitively, to understand what we need and want. When reality doesn't meet expectation, it's easy for frustration, disappointment or even bitterness to take root. Rather than focus on what he's not doing, evaluate what you can. Become a student of him; try to speak love in a way you typically don't. Surprise him. You might just surprise yourself.
4. Take it offline. Don't tell him how great he is in a Facebook status or brag on him on Twitter; email or text him directly. Better yet, slip a love note in his wallet, on his car seat, or in red lipstick on the bathroom mirror.
5. Invite him to discuss this post, to be honest with you. Ask him to share his thoughts and ideas for investing in your relationship; if you're committed "for better or worse" how can you tip the scale more often toward the better side?
It's the little things that can undermine your relationship and erode affection. Begin the new year pursuing a better marriage.
:angel:
Unwrapped: The After-Christmas Blues
Dec 28, 2013 12:20 am | Angela Nazworth
The days between Christmas and New Years can feel heavy. The gifts are unwrapped, only cookie crumbs remain in the pretty tins, and returning to school or work is only a few days away.
In many ways, the passing of Christmas is comparable to reading the last sentence in an enthralling book. In the early chapters, the stage is being set. Then the main character is introduced, the plot begins to unfold, and new events and dialogue can be found on each page. But as the book nears its end, the excitement winds down. There's usually resolution within the story ... yet the reader isn't necessarily ready to let go.
I felt this way when I read the last line in the Hunger Games trilogy. I wanted to read more about Katniss, Peeta and the world that they lived in, so even though I was satisfied with the tale Suzanne Collins spun, I felt sad when the story ended.
I wanted more.
If we read the glorious story of the first Christmas and stop after we get to the part where "the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told" (Luke 2:21), it's only natural that we're going to feel a little let down.
If you stop there, the story – although beautiful – ends and you, the reader ... are left wanting more ... no ... needing more.
The fastest, most surefire way to fight and win against the after-Christmas blues is to remember that the story doesn't end with the chorus of angels and a visit from wise men.
If we keep reading, we learn more about baby Jesus. We learn about preteen Jesus giving his parents a scare after he had been presented at the temple. We learn about his baptism, his followers, his character, his commands of love and the ultimate sacrifice.
And when we get to the part of the book in the twenty-fourth chapter of Luke where the stone is rolled away and the tomb that was sealed is empty ... we know that the story continues still today for those who follow Jesus.
The story of Christmas doesn't end in a manger or on a cross or anywhere in ancient Israel. The story of Christmas continues today. It rushes forth with passion when we sing songs of praise. It covers our fears, our failings, our inadequacies. It gives us the power to speak truth and act with kindness and love.
When we recognize our role in the ongoing story of Christ's love, the days after Christmas can be even more enriching than December 25.
"Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching." – Hebrews 10:23-25
:angel:
Wise in My Own Eyes
Dec 30, 2013 12:20 am | Jennifer Schmidt
With my cozy blanket pulled all around me, I snuggle down into my thrifted sofa and spend time soaking in my surroundings.
Reminders of real-life living touch every corner of our home.
Mismatched socks in a pile, leftover cold coffee waiting to be reheated for the third time, pen marks from my special needs nephew who christened the wall, our fireplace mantel adorned with cuts of fir from our woods, my second-hand piano waiting to be painted something bold and lastly, my eyes settle in on our broken double-paned window.
Tucked away in a back corner of our sitting room, that cracked window still holds a golf ball from years past.
I haven't thought about that day in years, but I remember it well.
A typical afternoon, our three boys hooted and hollered in the side yard. As I peeked out the window, I saw them all swinging their golf clubs.
"Boys," I yelled out the back door, "aim your clubs in the opposite direction or someone's going to break a window."
Two of the three yelled back in affirmation, while the eldest responded with all the gumption his ten-year-old wisdom could muster, "Mom, there's no way I will hit the window. Absolutely no way! I know what I'm doing."
We went back and forth about obedience and choices, but he was sincerely convinced, there was no pending problem.
As I reached the opposite side of the house, I heard it!
Literally minutes after our exchange, that professional golfer hit and shattered the very window of which I had warned.
A few choice words flew from my mouth and I ordered him inside immediately. Livid doesn't describe my frustration.
"All I asked you to do was point your club in the opposite direction. How difficult is that for you? It's not. It's simple."
"Mom, really, I am sorry. I was so sure that I wouldn't hit it."
Years later, that golf ball stills serves as a reminder, a marker of sorts.
2014 is the year to finally replace that hidden window, but as I ponder the life lessons that visual represents, it's many.
My son didn't set out to crack this window.
His heart attitude wasn't, "I will purposely disobey my mother because I want to do wrong," but rather, it stemmed from a scripture of old, "Every man did that which was right in his own eyes." (Judges 21:25.)
He acted on his own authority and in the belief that he knew better. Ultimately, his wisdom and knowledge failed him.
As a mother of five, I'm continually discussing Proverbs 3:7 with our children. "Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil." (NIV)
Yet the more I quote it for them, the Lord opens my eyes to how much it's meant for me (and maybe for you?).
Over the last few years, I've been fortunate to surround myself with wise, Godly women who continually cause me to think.
Proverbs 27:17 states, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."
While I firmly believe that, I've recently seen a subtle shift in some of the views that they've shared, and it's been challenging to step outside their strong collective thinking. Their wisdom, which once stemmed solely from scripture, is now a mixture of choice scriptures and personal feelings that don't necessarily align with scripture. Their counsel is increasingly given without wanting to offend, but therefore it never quite confronts sin.
Every where I turn, society is challenging believers to look more like the world.
Christians pulling away from the theology that scripture is the inerrant (without error) Word of God, and philosophies assuring us that truth changes. "It's relative, and of course, a good God wants us all to be happy."
I look at the golf ball stuck in the shattered glass, cobwebs dusting the edging and am smacked with the reminder, "Wise in my own eyes. Wise in my own eyes."
Oh, Lord! Are we becoming a generation that is so wise in our own eyes; a society resting on political correctness that we are missing out on your Glory? Do we feel the need to "dress up" the Gospel with our own slant so that it's more appealing?
I love finding Christ smack dab in the middle of my mess. He is well-acquainted with grief; a man of sorrow, a savior full of compassion. Joy is often found in the midst of heartbreak and sorrow, but this promise of happiness and good fortune that I keep hearing about, I have yet to find in scripture.
As I sit, listen and read, I think back to that day with my son.
He was so sure he was doing the right thing. He earnestly believed what he said to be true, and therein lies the problem. Feelings fail us. Opinions, whether based on spiritual, social, or even political issues, must be vetted through scripture.
As the new year ushers in, I pray that my feelings and opinions never get in the way of His truth.
As the Lord continues to mold me, may I grow in righteousness as my own sin is revealed. I pray my tongue utters wisdom and my mouth speaks boldly what is just without compromise.
Since our golf ball serves as my object of remembrance, maybe we can each pick our own marker for the new year; a tangible object to remind us that true wisdom is found at the foot of the cross. A mark of remembrance to be bold in His truth, compassionate with His love and humbled by His wisdom.
Q4U: Have you ever kept a tangible object as a reminder of an important life lesson or situation? Would you care to share? Is there an area that you've been convicted of to speak up boldly for Him?
:angel:
Rewriting Resolutions & Choosing One Word
Jan 01, 2014 12:20 am | Mary Carver
About two years ago a certain fast food restaurant popped up two blocks from my house. Every time I drive out of my neighborhood, I come face to face with its yellow siren call of grease and goodness. (You know, the horrible kind of goodness that most of us don't admit to liking?)
I truly don't eat many meals there – unless you count breakfast. (You know, that meal some people call the most important one of all?) If you count breakfast, I might be what you would call a regular . . .
The funny thing is that for years now, I've ordered the same thing: two skinny, cheesy breakfast burritos. They're cheap and easy to eat in the car, and despite many promises from Pinterest, not all that easy to duplicate at home. So every time I go there, I order burritos.
Earlier this year, however, I started losing my taste for the burritos. I was less satisfied every time I ordered – and, yes, ate – them, and I'd declare that the last time I'd order and eat those cheesy burritos. Still, guess what I'd order the next time I pulled into the drive-thru? For some reason, I couldn't quite remember my decision to change and stuck to the same old thing.
I do that a lot. Not necessarily with food (although, yeah, I do that, too) – but with life in general. I've heard that the definition of insanity (or stupidity, depending on who you ask) is doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different response.
As we begin this new year, many of us are looking ahead with hope for fresh starts and fulfilled dreams and changed lives. But are we going about it in the same old way?
Be honest. How many of you have scribbled down a list of resolutions? Maybe you're calling them goals this time, but they look eerily similar to your resolutions from 2013 . . . and 2012 . . . and, well, you get the picture.
I know I'm guilty of this. I've written, "Lose weight" and "Read through the Bible" on more lists than I can even recall. Every year, I promise myself, my friends and my family that THIS will be the year! THIS will be the twelve months in which I write a book and run a 5k and remember to floss my teeth. No, really, it will!
But somehow, those lists and declarations never turn out the way I imagine.
What if this year we did something different? Is it possible the result would be different, too?
One Word 365 is a community and a movement. It's about forgetting resolutions and scrapping your list of goals that you'll forget by next week – or be overwhelmed by in the same time frame. One Word 365 says:
Choose just one word. One word that sums up who you want to be or how you want to live. One word that you can focus on every day, all year long.
It will take intentionality and commitment, but if you let it, your one word will shape not only your year, but also you. It will become the compass that directs your decisions and guides your steps.
Discover the big impact one word can make.
One word. 365 days. A changed life.
Will you be brave and commit to just one word? Do you believe that one small word can have a big impact on your life, on your world?
We believe it at (in)courage. And I'm choosing one word for myself. (Read more on my blog.)
If you're choosing One Word for the next 365 days, will you tell us about it? Share your word in the comments, so we can join together and make THIS YEAR the one – the one where we change, the one where we live, the one that makes a difference!
For more information about One Word 365, visit OneWord365.com, Facebook or Twitter.
What's YOUR one word?
By Mary, who's giving up on perfect and resolutions by letting God rewrite her life this year.
:angel:
Laying Foundations When You Want to Build Walls
Jan 03, 2014 Ruth Povey
The friend I'd arranged to meet that day never showed up. A message to say she was running late and then I suppose she decided not to bother at all, because there I was following my toddler around the park two hours later; and there she was on Facebook, updating everyone about where she'd been instead.
If several arrangements with other friends hadn't been cancelled during the last few weeks, I might not have cried. They had very valid reasons and I knew it wasn't personal, but there's always that fear – am I just not worth the effort?
I might have held it together if I didn't remember being twelve years old and publicly uninvited to Joy Baker's birthday party, because her mother had said sorry, only 20 children when there were 21 in our class. If I couldn't recall the thousand other times in this fractured life I'd been too much or not enough; if every rejection hadn't burned into my heart, branding me unwanted, I might not have cried.
But that day, drained of the energy to try anymore, I did.
Have you been here too, a wave of pain solidifying into bitterness? Our heavy hurt can form bricks, willing us to build high, defensive walls. Barricaded in, we're safe aren't we? Where no one can touch us, we can't be hurt.
One Wednesday morning before cold crept in, desperate to escape this current loneliness, I made my way into a park full of other mothers and their everywhere children. Making conversation does not come naturally to me, but I said actual words to real-life people and then they replied. There were no kindred spirit moments and I didn't walk away with a friend for life, but every friendship formed has to start somewhere.
Every choice to keep reaching out is a foundation laid.
The weather has turned now and there's a magic about the hotpots and gloves and fairy lights; there's something so wonderful about wrapping your hands around a mug of hot chocolate while the sky looms grey, framed by a frosty window. And I want to share it – to extend an invite to share gingerbread and hours and laughter with another. I don't want to fashion walls to keep others out. I want to open up my home and my heart.
Friendship takes courage. We risk rejection. But what if, deep breath and jumbled words, we try again?
Be bold enough to tear down walls, lay foundations and brick on brick, strengthen one another from the ground up.
Reach out brave and try again.
**********
Have you ever found yourself in a period of loneliness? Have past hurts left you afraid to reach out? What steps could you take to connect with others?
:angel:
The Problem With January
Jan 06, 2014 12:20 am | Sarah Markley
"Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin." — Mother Teresa
When someone asks about my "five year plan," when I see people that I know and love on Instagram planning out the next 12 months in a family meeting, or when I see girls that have blog posts scheduled 30 weeks out, I begin to break out in hives.
I'll never be like that.
I'm not a planner. Not like that. Nor am I really a budgeter. And perhaps that's a problem to some of you. I don't look at January and say, "Wow! What a blank slate! Let's plan out the year!"
I simply move gently from December and the holidays into a new month with hope and anticipation that this year will be a little bit better than the year before. I do it quietly, without fanfare, and without a ton of planning.
I guess I'm more of a "today" type of girl.
The problem with January, besides the fact that all public gym facilities are completely swamped, is that we expect so much from the future and, because of the new-slate-ness of the month, we are tricked into thinking that it will be different this time around. We look down the road and see all of the possibilities and then camp there, and only there, sometimes. We choose words to guide our year and we set out to lose weight, eat clean or read the Bible every morning.
And there is nothing wrong with this at all. There just seems to be something missing in the middle of it.
In my teens, one of my friend's mother was always going to "start her diet on Monday." I would always think, why not start it now? Why are we waiting until Monday? What is so special about Monday?
There isn't anything wrong with planning or waiting until a good day to begin a new program, but if the change is something we want to make, let's begin now. The problem with January is that if we need to make a change, let's do it today, not wait until a new year flips over every year.
Mother Teresa makes a good point (quoted above): Let's not wallow in the past or really figure out the future. Today is important and only that. She was really echoing James when he warned about thinking too hard about the far future. He says, "The reality is you have no idea where your life will take you tomorrow. You are like a mist that appears one moment and then vanishes another."
It really is about today.
It isn't about yesterday or about the future but about the now.
It is about the people and the love that is put in front of us right now. It is about the justices today that we want to see righted, it is about the problems that we can begin to solve today. It is about the simple, small change we can make in one life, right now. It is about the kind word, the quick note, the forgiveness we can give this minute.
It is about today.
What change will you make today? Are you a planner? What is God putting in front of you today?
:angel:
Bigger Cup Sizes and Thin Skin
Jan 07, 2014 12:10 am | Karin Madden
I wish it didn't matter to me. I wish I could say I don't care.
I want to be liked. When I am not, it hurts. I wonder what I must have done to cause this perceived dislike, and return the favor – certain it is the other person's problem anyway.
The skin thickens.
I heard a story once. A priest speaking at a retreat compared us to cups.
The larger our cups get, the thinner the sides. The thinner the sides, the more others can see Christ through us. We pour ourselves out and fill ourselves with Christ.
A woman excitedly responded,
So we want to have a bigger cup size!
The priest smiled and replied,
I choose not to answer that.
Laughter erupted in the room and the woman blushed,
Oh dear.
She is right. We want to have a bigger cup size and thin skin.
I could sit and tell you how tough I have been.
When I was pregnant with our fourth child my husband was deployed. Our oldest child was four. His eczema had gotten so severe that he did not sleep during the night and could not bathe for 3 months. His hair and his nails stopped growing. He scratched his skin into piles on the floor. I swept the piles and changed his sheets every day. He scratched, and bled, and suffered. It was torture.
After our fifth baby, my husband was again deployed. Winter had arrived. Two unusual snowstorms blanketed our home with 50 inches of snow for months. Home with five kids under the age of eight, I pulled myself up the snow-covered basement stairs to shovel a path for our elderly dog.
Two weeks after our sixth baby was born, my husband deployed for the eleventh time. I was home alone with six children, a newborn, no sleep, and homeschooling.
Through every one of these deployments I was petrified my husband's plane would crash, or a mortar would fall in the wrong place (if there is actually ever a right place for a mortar to fall). I would be left here without him.
There is a tough skin every military wife knows. The days and weeks and months go on, while we raise children alone and worry for the safety of our husbands.
There is a tough skin every mother knows. We toughen up for battle against mean kids, mean parents, and less-than-understanding teachers. We armor up for the fight with insurance companies and those who leave us on hold for the next available attendant (who seems to have left the country).
We grow up and toughen up. Our once thin-skinned innocence grows calloused. We think this is the way it has to be. We are mothers and have much to bear, so we get tougher.
What if we softened just a little bit? What if we let our cups grow, stretch, and thin at the sides? What if our shells became transparent enough to see more of what is inside?
What if we became thin-skinned... on purpose?
We would likely get hurt here and there.
We might lose an argument or two because we know being right isn't as important as being friends.
We might ask for help, though pride wants to firmly root itself in our souls. Pride may have been taking up all the space, leaving no room for something beautiful to grow.
Grace may slide into this space and fill us from the bottom up.
What if we emptied our cups of the baggage, burdens, and burnout?
What if we emptied ourselves, and stretched our souls to make room for just Him?
This over-sized, thinned-skinned shell of who we really are could then give Him some room to move. Fill us to brimming. Brimming to pouring... all that He has.
As for me, I want a bigger cup size.
How about you? In what areas are you stretching and thinning?
:angel: