“You are My witnesses,” declares the Lord, “And My servant whom I have chosen, that you may know and believe Me and understand that I am He. Before me there was no God formed, and there will be none after Me.”  Isaiah 43:10 (AMP)

He alone is our God and we are his witnesses.  

We can attest to God’s sovereignty and His faithfulness by our testimony, our personal story of what God has saved us from and how He has changed us.  If we have accepted Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, we have an incredible story to tell.  It is one of love and forgiveness, full of grace and mercy, new life and hope.

Stories can be an incredibly powerful tool.  When it comes to new products, one of the most compelling reasons to buy something is a shared story or experience from someone you know in real life.   I can know all about a product but usually won’t be persuaded to actually buy it until someone close to me shares a positive experience with it.  And then, I’m all in.  Often, their excitement will spread and I become a walking billboard for the product, a witness to its greatness.

The shepherds were the first real witnesses to Jesus.  In a sense, they became walking billboards for the Savior of the world.  Their experience couldn’t be kept to themselves because it was the most joyful news they had ever heard, and it was for everyone. After seeing for themselves, they told everyone they could. As word of mouth grew, people everywhere heard the good news.

Luke 2:15-18 says, “When this great army of angels had returned again to heaven, the shepherds said to each other, “Come on! Let’s go to Bethlehem! Let’s see this wonderful thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”  “They ran to the village and found their way to Mary and Joseph. And there was the baby, lying in the manger.  The shepherds told everyone what had happened and what the angel had said to them about this child.  All who heard the shepherd’s story expressed astonishment.” (TLB)

The shepherds were all in. They heard a story, followed it to the source and then shared with anyone who would listen.  For those of us who have heard the good news and traced it back to Him, our job now becomes to share that good news with those around us.  Our lives act as a witness to the world that His story is an integral part of our own story.

We have an opportunity every day to be all in, but especially this advent season as we reflect on the birth of baby Jesus.  We have a story to tell of how the birth of a baby boy thousands of years ago set into motion a love story that would change our lives forever.  This week let’s ask God to use our words to astonish people with his love and let’s live our lives in a way that will bear witness to the mighty God we serve.

A prayer:  Father, we acknowledge that You alone are God.  There was no one before You, and there will be no one after You.  Give us an opportunity this week to share our story with somebody who needs to hear it.  We give you full access to our lives and to the stories You are still writing.  Give us the words to speak, that we might be witnesses to You, our Mighty God.  

John 3:16

It is probably the most well-known Bible verse of all time.  “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.” (NIV)  The Message paraphrase says this, “This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son.  And this why:  so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.”

I love this verse.  I do.  It’s the introduction to God’s love story for us all.  It reveals God’s character and His plan.  It’s inclusive, and teeming with love.  But it’s the following verse, John 3:17, that reads like an exclamation point to me. “God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was.  He came to help us, to put the world right again.”  (MSG)

So many people go through life believing that God goes around pointing an accusing finger, shaking His head in disappointment and sighing at our shortcomings and failures.  But it’s simply not true.  His heart is to help, not to condemn. He sent His only Son into the world to set it right again…to set us right again.

He is our hope.  Not just for life everlasting, but for life right now. 

God’s hope is available to us whether we’re drowning in a sea of laundry or a sea of depression.  We can experience true joy whether life seems relatively easy or we are walking through some of our darkest days.  We can learn to trust His heart whether our circumstances make sense or not.  We have hope for this life right now because Jesus didn’t just come to tell us how bad things are, but He came to help make things better.

Whether this season finds you thriving or just barely surviving, the truth remains the same.  God is our hope and He came to mend things.

A prayer:  Thank you, Father, that You alone are our hope.  Whether we feel especially hopeful or not, You remain our constant.  Help us truly believe that You are not in a continual state of disappointment with us, but rather that You delight in us.  Psalm 149 reminds us that You delight in Your people and You crown the humble with victory.  Father, today, crown us with your victory.  As we humble ourselves before You, please mend broken hearts and fractured relationships.  Thank you for coming to help.  We look forward to the day when all will be set right by You forever. Amen. 

It’s finally summer and you know what that means!  Well, aside from lax schedules, entire days spent outdoors and lots of late nights, for me it means more time to read.  Some of my favorite books have come from recommendations from others and so I thought I’d share a few of mine with you.

I was listening to a podcast recently, “That Sounds Fun with Annie F. Downs” and she was interviewing Anne Bogel who shared some great book recommendations.  Bogel has two podcasts herself, “What Should I Read Next?” and “One Great Book.”  Bogel’s forte is all things books and reading, so if you are a book lover, you should definitely subscribe to her podcasts.  For those of you stressing out over finishing a book that you don’t really have much excitement for, can I offer a piece of advice?  Let it go.  Give yourself permission to not have to finish it.  Move on and find a book that does excite you and get reading!  We spend enough time doing things we don’t want to do, don’t make the joy of reading become a chore.  That’s my advice.

Holly Furtick has an online book club on Instagram and she recently recommended “Belgravia,” by Julian Fellowes.  I was looking for a new read, so I bought it and basically devoured it.  Julian Fellowes is the creator of Downton Abbey, so if you enjoyed the show, you’ll definitely want to check this one out.

Why I loved this book: It was an easy read.  Set in the early 1800’s,  it touches on British Society and a man desperate to rise into the aristocratic ranks.  The first chapter sets the stage for the rest of the story which occurs some 25 years later.  There are some twists and turns in the plot, characters you love to hate, and some you hate but feel sorry for, and of course some people you find yourself rooting for. Everything wraps up rather neatly in the end (whether that makes you happy or disappointed to know, you can be the judge.)

I’m currently reading “Lost Roses” by Martha Hall Kelly.  If you haven’t read her other book, “Lilac Girls,” go right now and get it!

Why I loved/am loving these books:

“Lilac Girls” is inspired by the life of a real World War II heroine, Caroline Ferriday.  It weaves together the story of three women:  a New York socialite, a polish teenager & a young German doctor.  It tells the harrowing story of the medical experimentation that took place on countless Polish women while being held by the Nazis at Ravensbruck concentration camp.  I seriously cannot recommend this book enough.  If you love WWII historical fiction, this is a must read!

“Lost Roses,” which I am currently reading (and is sitting on my dining table taunting me to read it) is a novel set a generation earlier and features Caroline’s mother, Eliza Ferriday.  It is a prequel to “Lilac Girls” and I am all in at the moment.  It’s also inspired by true events and follows the story of three women from New York, to St. Petersburg and Paris.  It’s a beautiful story of women’s friendships set against the bleak backdrop of some of our history’s darkest days.

I read a book two summer’s ago that made it on my “must read” list.  Beneath A Scarlet Sky, by Mark Sullivan, is one of my all time favorite books.

Why I loved this book: 

It’s set in Italy during WWII (I know what you’re thinking, “again with the WWII era,” and all I can say is, I will not apologize. It is also based on the true story of a forgotten hero.  The novel follows Pino Lella from his days as a normal teenage boy who wants nothing to do with war and then eventually joins an underground railroad, helping Jews escape over the Alps.  He is forced to enlist as a German soldier by his parents in an attempt to protect him.  However, at the age of eighteen becomes the personal driver for Adolf Hitler’s left hand in Italy, General Hans Leyers.  As he works for Leyers and has an opportunity to spy for the Allies, he witnesses the horrors of war and continues to fight for freedom and for the chance that he will one day be reunited with his love.

Just buy the book and you can thank me later.

One of the books on my nightstand currently is a book I’ve already read and plan on reading again this summer.  “La la Lovely,” by Trina McNeilly, is exactly that, lovely.  From the moment a dear friend gifted this book to me, I knew I had been given something special.  The  size, the font, the front cover, all of it spoke of beauty and as I turned the pages, revealed even more.

Why I plan to reread this book once a year:

Inside the pages is an invitation to something we often need reminding of, a call to behold beauty.  Often times we think beauty only exists in pretty places.  But beauty is deeper than simply pretty, and often times our disappointments, failures and the jagged edges of life produce the deepest beauty.  From personal stories, gorgeous photos and even some helpful decorating tips, the author invites us to not only behold beauty, but also to pursue it.  “To find beauty within the broken is to behold, ‘to keep and remember,’ the goodness of God.”

Everyone will get something out of this book but if you’re a #2, #3 or #4 on the Enneagram, (part of the heart Triad) you will likely find this book to be deeply moving and inspiring.

Speaking of the Enneagram, I recently purchased a book that I am really enjoying called, “The Path Between Us” by Suzanne Stabile.  Now, before I go any further, I should let you know that I believe the Enneagram can be a useful tool in discovering who we are and how we relate to those around us.  I don’t consider it to be an authority in my life nor does it trump the word of God, but I do believe it can be useful in helping me understand not only myself, but also a resource in helping me discover how to relate to other people.  Relationships are highly valuable to me and this has become a tool in helping me better understand myself and my loved ones.

Why I loved this book:

This book dives into the nine different Enneagram types and how they each behave and experience relationships.  Often times our behaviors (seen) can be similar to another person, while our motivation (unseen) can be vastly different.  Understanding these motivations and the dynamics that each personality type can bring, can help us better understand ourselves and others.  I have found it wildly helpful in better understanding why I sometimes react the way I do in certain situations.  It has also opened a dialogue between myself and some of the most important relationships in my life, and allowed me to catch a glimpse into areas of dysfunction in my life.  At the same time, it has allowed me to fully embrace the unique traits and attributes that God has placed inside of me, embracing all of it with an increased desire for growth.

I hope one of these recommendations has sparked an interest for you.  Reading has always been a wonderful retreat for me and I hope it can be one for you as well.  I traveled all the way to Santorini, Greece last summer and do you know what I did?  I hunted down a local bookstore that I had been fangirling over on Instagram called Atlantis Books.  It was this crazy, eclectic, wonderful bookstore that Aaron and I spent over an hour rummaging through.  It was one of the highlights of our trip for me.

If you have a book that has inspired, helped, or even just entertained you, I’d love for you to share it in the comments below. I’ll leave you with this quote from C.S. Lewis that I feel like I could’ve written, “You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” Happy reading.

Sometimes the really important work in life doesn’t feel very important when you’re in the midst of it.

Instead, it feels hard, looks quite unimpressive and would be easier to just dismiss.  Because of this, I often find myself wanting to move on to things that look or seem more important.  I want to work on the seen things.  Our minds are trained to believe that if nobody sees the quiet, hard work, then does it really matter? In a world that glorifies what it sees, or what is posted on FB or Instagram, often it’s the small personal areas of our mind, heart & soul that we neglect.

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

To be honest, I’ve been in a bit of a “blah” season of life lately.  Nothing particularly awful, but just a lot of normal crap.  You know what I mean.  Life is like that sometimes.  But what I’ve noticed is that when I feel like this, it’s easier for my mind to wander.  I am more prone to comparison, a tad more easily offended and just overall, a less fun person to be around.

But being that you don’t actually live in my mind with me, (go ahead and say a quick “Hallelujah” right now) I can easily present a fairly put together package on the outside while inside, my thoughts are leading me astray.

Chances are, you’ve experienced this yourself at one time or another.  From the conversations I’ve had over the years with countless women, it seems to be something that we females struggle with quite a bit.

What I’ve discovered over the years is that although there isn’t a whole lot I can do to stop these crazy thoughts and feelings from sneaking in, there are things I can do to stop them in their tracks.  Just because they come, doesn’t mean I have to invite them to stay.

Here are a few things I do that have really helped improve my odds of staying “sane” through the blah feelings that inevitably come.  They are unseen things.  But they are important and worthwhile things.

1.  Choose to believe the best. 

Choose to believe the best about whoever it is that is racing around in that head of yours.  Sometimes this is easier said than done. But so often, the inner dialogue of our mind can take on a persona all its own, and if we’re not careful, we can actually find ourselves making up stuff that didn’t even happen.  We can rehearse things so many times in our mind that we actually invent conversations that never even took place. We take on offenses that were never intended for us. Not that I’ve ever done something like this of course, but I’ve heard it can happen. It’s like playing the old game telephone.  We start out with something benign and up with something cancerous.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

But listen, it’s our choice.  We get to decide if we will choose to believe what our feelings are screaming at us in the moment, or if we will choose to believe the best about the situation or the person in question. I’d rather choose to believe the best about someone and risk being wrong.  If I am wrong, it hasn’t done me any harm and ultimately says more about the other person than it does me.

In my worst moments, when insecurity meets with isolation, I have thought straight up crazy thoughts.  I once thought one of my very best friends didn’t even like me. We laugh now, because of course after I broke out of my fog I could see how ridiculous it was.  But in that moment, in the midst of all my feelings, it felt very real.

Feelings come & feelings go.  In moments where you’re high on all the feels, make the conscious decision to stop your downward spiral and choose to believe the best.

2.   Make a move, shift your focus. 

When you’re feeling blah, and your mind has too much time on its hands, sometimes the best thing to do is to make a physical change.  Whether that’s going from the couch to the laundry room or taking a walk outside, move your body and shift your focus.

For me, a lot of times it helps to do a task.  I’ll throw a load of laundry in or clean the bathroom, something that kind of takes my mind off of things for a while.  If it’s nice outside, there’s nothing like a long walk or a short run to clear my mind.  Sometimes, if I’m really in my head, I will turn on music to help drown out all the crazy.  A 5-minute dance party with music blaring and all my signature dance moves done in the privacy of my own living room has been known to cure a lot of the crazies.  But whatever you choose, it’s a shift of focus off of yourself and onto something else for a while.  It can help clear your mind and give clarity to the situation.  Sometimes a shift of focus is all we need to help shift our perspective.

3.  Empty out, Fill up. 

You’ve heard the saying, “garbage in, garbage out.”  Well, it’s true.  But the opposite of this is also true.  “Good stuff in, good stuff out.”  You can find this truth in Scripture.   Luke 6:45 says, “A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.”  (NIV)

When my mind has jumped ship and my emotions have me feeling like I’m in a downward spiral ready to burst into flames upon entry, the thing I most need is the very essence of who Jesus is: grace & truth.  I need both His grace to comfort me and His truth to guide me. And I get both of these as I read His word.

I can’t tell you how often His word has healed my troubled mind. A prayer of surrender (empty out) and reading the Bible (fill up) has saved me from my crazy thoughts a thousand times and more.  Time spent in prayer, studying His word or listening to worship music are all great tools to get our hearts and minds back on the right track.  There have been times when I have noticed a shift in the atmosphere of my home due to the worship music playing in the background.  Never underestimate the power of inviting God’s presence into your space.

As life would have it, I’ve had to put these into practice myself while writing this post.  And to be honest, it wasn’t easy.  I struggled. (But hey, I did get a four mile run out of it!) There are going to be times when we have to actively fight against the thoughts and lies that come our way.  And although it often goes unnoticed by others, it never goes unnoticed by our God.  He knows us and he understands us better than we do ourselves.  And I believe He values the unseen, difficult things we do.  Perhaps even more so, at times, than the things we do that are visible to others.

If you’re going through something hard, if it seems like the work you’re putting into it is going unnoticed, believe today that God sees.  He cares about your situation and He values the time and work put into the difficult, unseen areas and seasons of our lives.  Remind yourself again today of His love and His faithfulness towards you.  Psalm 26:3  “For I have always been mindful of your unfailing love and have lived in reliance on your faithfulness.” (NIV) Let’s live our lives relying on the faithfulness of our God.

*I’d love to hear your thoughts on what has helped you when you find yourself in that “crazy” space that we all find ourselves in from time to time. Comment below!

I recently spent a glorious week basking in the Florida sun with my daughter and some of our dearest friends. The trip was an early birthday present for my daughter and her friend who have been asking to make this trip together since they were in the First Grade. The forecast for our time there was absolute perfection and the weather lived up to its promises.

We spent our days swimming in grandma Mary’s pool, sightseeing & discovering different beaches. I am a sun & sand lover by nature but honestly, my favorite thing about the beach is the ocean.
There is just something about the sound of the ocean washing into shore that sets my soul at ease. There is something so familiar about the salt infused air as it enters my lungs and causes a deep relaxation to settle in. I was reminded again of the holiness that exists within His creation.

As I stood looking out into the ocean, the sun shimmering off the surface and causing it to sparkle in golden hues, I met with the Creator of it all. The ocean as my altar, my heart knelt in the sand and a holy exchange took place. My offering a simple one, myself. His, one of grace and steadfast love for me. It’s overwhelming, that kind of exchange. One where you bring nothing and yet receive everything.

There are moments in life that kinda take your breath away. Where you wish time would stand still and you could hold onto it just a little bit longer. This past week was like that for me. There were occasions when I would look at Hannah, on the verge of becoming a young woman and yet childlike enough to still find a thrill in unearthing seashells, and she would catch my gaze and hold it. Moments that made my throat grow tight and stung my eyes as tears threatened to find their way down my cheek. We walked the beaches hand in hand, without much fussing over words. Sometimes beauty is so evident that stating it seems futile. And sometimes moments need to be experienced more than they need to be preserved. And so we tried our best just to linger in it, the beauty and the holiness of the moment.

But life isn’t always so gracious, sometimes it’s hard & callous and it robs us of our breath as the jagged edges of pain and loss tear their way through us.  As I listen to the stories coming in from the Florida school shooting (so close to where we just were), my throat grows dry and tight. My eyes once again burn with stinging tears, as I struggle to make sense of it all.

The victims, each name becoming its own personal prayer:

Helena, Alex, Cara, Carmen, Peter, Nicolas, Gina, Martin, Jaime, Joaquin, Scott, Alyssa, Alaina, Chris, Meadow, Aaron & Luke.

I find myself at an altar once again. This time instead of warm, soft sand covering my feet, my knees feel the stiffness of the rug beneath me and my face is tucked into the cushions of my couch. My altar looks a bit different, but the same exchange that took place at the shores of the ocean will occur here too. I will come with nothing but myself, my questions, my pain, my doubts…and He will bring all that He is, just like He always does. His peace, wisdom, comfort & love.

Just the mention of their names will be my simple prayer today. My only prayer, as words escape me. Because just like a perfect moment can steal your breath away, so can unimaginable loss. But there is one more name I know, one more prayer to say today, and that is Jesus. He is my prayer. He is my answer. He is my hope.

I was reading recently about WWI and about the story of the Christmas Truce of 1914. It was a little over 4 months into the war when on December 7th, Pope Benedict XV suggested a temporary hiatus of the war in order to celebrate Christmas. Although the warring countries refused any official cease-fire, on Christmas Day the soldiers in the trenches decided to declare their own unofficial truce.

On Christmas Eve of 1914, the sound of German and British troops singing Christmas carols to each other could be heard from across enemy lines. On Christmas Day, German soldiers emerged from the trenches, crossed through no-man’s-land, (a desolate area comprised mostly of decay and rotting corpses) and approached the Allied lines while calling out “Merry Christmas” in their enemies’ native tongues. Although it seems the Allied forces at first thought it to be a trick, they quickly realized the Germans were unarmed and then climbed out of their trenches to shake hands and even exchange presents with the enemy soldiers. There was also a documented case of a game of soccer taking place between soldiers on opposing sides. For that day anyway, the fighting ceased and the term enemy was replaced with fellow soldier.

I find this story fascinating. With our world seemingly at war with one another and hate distorting our vision, we could desperately use a cease-fire of our own. A day of rest, a break from the constant warring with one another.

Our world is being torn into pieces as our eyes bear witness to the devastation. And just like no-man’s land, all of the fighting and hate has left a barren wasteland where people lay injured, broken and dying. Conversations like mud puddles, stomped underfoot on our way to proving how right we are. Sharing opinions in a respectful way has become lost in the sound of gunfire as it reverberates in our chest and sends a tinging sound to our ears. Our words being the ammunition necessary to fire our weapons.

What this world needs is more people who will emerge from their trenches of self-preservation and brave the desolate walk through no-man’s land. Those who are willing to embrace the humanity in us all that lies just on the other side of the battle line.

Somewhere amidst all of the fighting we have lost sight of the fact that we’re not sworn enemies, but rather, fellow soldiers. Human and hurting. Trying our best. Fighting our own hidden battles.

And yet someone needs to go first.

So who will start the singing? Who will be willing to learn another’s native tongue in order to speak words that will convey love, peace and hope? Who will make the effort to come to another, perceptions surrendered, and be willing to embrace all of the things we still have in common?

As this year draws to a close and with the new year upon us, we have the chance to start fresh again. To determine how we are going to respond to those around us, to set the tone for how we are going to handle disagreements. We can draw up our own truce. One that will set the tone for the year ahead. A declaration to fight for those around us instead of against. One where we are intentional in connecting with others over all the things we still have in common. One where love is emphasized instead of minimized.

We don’t have to wait for someone else to declare an official cease-fire. We have the power to initiate our own. Let’s make the decision to put down our weapons and pick up the hand of the person next to us. Let’s choose love over hate. Perhaps those first few shaky steps out of our trenches will inspire the person next to us to do the same. Then maybe we’ll be able to experience the depth of the beauty that exists in our shared humanity and we can exchange the greatest gift of all – love.

The news sears its images into my head and slices my heart into tiny little pieces.  Twenty six of them to be exact.  The concrete steps that led them towards Light are now darkened by the shadow of death.  As a hallelujah chorus began to ring out, the sound of gunfire drowned it out, bullets spraying over a congregation that would exchange their celebration song for cries of mercy.

Lying mangled on the floor are lives and hope extinguished.

And we rush to make sense of it all.  To tidy it up and put a label on it so that we can process it and move on.  We’re always so ready to move on.

But I think what we really need is to just sit with things for a while.  With people.  With heartache. With disappointment.  Let it linger for a moment longer, the discomfort of not being able to make sense of it all.  There is something holy that takes place when realize that we don’t have all the answers.  It’s an acknowledgment on our part that we submit to a God who does.  In a world where we pursue and seek comfort at all costs, we sometimes bypass the benefits that come from being a little uncomfortable.  

Questions and doubts, unimaginable pain and loss, they point us towards Him.

I don’t understand.  And I am mad, terrified and sick to my stomach, all at the same time. I don’t have all the answers.  As I talk to my children about it, I wish I could explain it all away.  That I could process it all with one simple conversation and then just move on with my day.  But I can’t.  And honestly, I don’t even think I should.

My kids need to see that I don’t have all the answers.  That there will be times when I am left with nothing other than, “We still have hope, He is our Hope.”  I want them to see me linger over important things. These are the moments in life when we show our kids exactly where our hope comes from.  It doesn’t come from our own wisdom.  And it doesn’t disappear in the face of adversity or even sheer evil.  Our hope IS IN God.

And although there are times, like the events that unfolded in a small town church in Texas yesterday, where it looks like all hope is lost, like it’s crumpled up in a heap on the floor, with God – it never is. Because our hope was there inside the church before the gunman entered, He was there in the midst of the chaos and in the horror of the aftermath.  He was there as people took their last breath before coming face to face with Him.  Our hope was with the victims and He is with us too.

He is our ONLY Hope.

Our giant oak tree came down today.

The city sent out a crew, on our request, to take out the gigantic tree that sits near the road and is eating into our driveway.  Standing on our sidewalk, all you can see for blocks is an army of trees lining the boulevard, standing tall and proud, keeping guard like a watchman.

It’s a beautiful stretch of foliage that in the summer gives way to a canopy of lush green leaves and in the fall, with the late afternoon sun gently resting on them, takes your breath away with the dazzling hues of crimson red, golden yellow and burnt orange.  Honestly, I will miss the grand old oak.  But we have had too many close calls and several accidents involving people trying to back out of our driveway. It was starting to impede with everyday life. 

When I returned home late this morning, they were already hard at work taking it down.The noise level caused me to hurry inside the house quickly, still managing to catch some sawdust in my eye as I passed by.  From a quieter distance and without any foreign debris interfering with my vision, I stood by our large front window, mesmerized by the scene unfolding before me.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the almost ballet like dance that was being performed in my front yard. And starring workmen wearing hard hats and neon green vests at that.  As Levi and I gazed at the scene together we realized that although this massive tree wielded great strength, the workmen were in complete control of each branch that fell.

It was amazing to watch them work.  There was an intricate web of rope used to secure and tie off the branch that was next up to be removed by the chainsaw.  As the blade found its way through the last few inches of the branch, separating it from the trunk, it fell almost in slow motion as it neared the ground and gently swayed back and forth under the direction of the workers.  Never did they wonder which branch was going to fall or where it might land.  They were in charge, they knew.  The branch would land exactly as they had planned.

So often in life when we are in the midst of hard stuff, from small branches being removed to entire trees being uprooted, we wonder if God will really be able to handle it.  We doubt his ability to work on our behalf.  We worry that our branches will tumble to the ground with a thud and we will be left with the marks of its haphazard descent.

But as I sat there watching the men work, watching the control they had over the process and over each and every branch that was removed, I was reminded again of the incredible way God cares for each of us.  He is in control.  Nothing happens that he does not see or does not care about.  Not a single branch falls that he’s not aware of.  He is there in the midst of our mess and  upheaval, gently guiding the fallen branches down.  Never does He wonder what is going to happen or exactly what that might look like.  He’s in charge, he already knows. Every branch will land under his watchful care.

He stands guard over us, directing the descent of our difficulties.

Psalm 121:5-8 says,

“The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life;
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

So if you’re going through something messy or difficult where you feel like chaos is reigning and you’re not sure whether you’re going to make it through, be reminded that He’s got it all under control.  Rest in the fact that he stands guard over you and takes great care in causing those things to fall gently into place under his watchful charge.  He watches over our coming and going both now and always.  Amen.

I love getting gifts.  Some of my favorite gifts to get are little things that don’t cost very much money but that I rarely buy for myself. A magazine on fashion or decorating, a bottle of new nail polish or a new Starbucks mug from their “You Are Here” series.

But to tell the truth, what I love almost as much as the gift itself is the way it’s packaged.  I love things that are presented beautifully and lovingly. That can mean a simple piece of twine wrapped around a magazine or a cute little chalkboard tag attached to it.  One of my favorite gifts I ever received was packaged in a brown paper sack, threaded at the top with some twine and tied into a tidy little bow. Inside was tea, a bag of fresh cherries & some chocolate.  It was so simple and so thoughtful.

“Brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my favorite things…”

As Christians, we have the greatest gift ever! We have the truth of who God is.  Unfortunately we sometimes miss the mark with our packaging and our delivery.  I’m not saying that anything needs to be added to the message of the cross.  The truth of who God is and His redemptive work on the cross stands on its own.  It’s not about adding to the gift, it’s about caring enough to make sure the gift is presented in a way that lines up with the value we have placed upon it.  Ensuring the authenticity of our gift speaks to the value we have placed on it.

Sometimes we forget that the way in which we deliver things can be as important as the thing we are trying to deliver. 

When we were in Florida this past spring we bought a Christmas ornament from Magic Kingdom.   We have a tradition where we collect Christmas ornaments from our family vacations.  I loved this ornament and I wanted it to get home in one piece so we took extra safety precautions to make sure that happened.  We wrapped it several times in thick paper, tucked it neatly inside a small box, and then surrounded the box with more padding.  We thought about putting it in our suitcase but then decided we weren’t sure we trusted the airlines to be gentle with it. (So untrusting of us, I know.)  We placed the carefully wrapped package in Aaron’s carry-on so that we could ensure its safe return. We cared enough to put extra time and love into getting it home in one piece.

But what if we had gone through all the trouble of wrapping and packaging only to get home and realize there was nothing in the box?  It sounds ridiculous but that’s what happens when we forego truth, it’s nothing but pretty packaging. It lacks substance.

Jesus was such a great example to us of truth wrapped in love.  He walked this earth showing love to everyone without abandoning the truth.  In dealing with the woman caught in adultery Jesus showed compassion towards her and caused her accusers to leave. LOVE  But then he followed it with these instructions, “Go and sin no more.” TRUTH

Truth & love do their best work when they coexist together.

So why is it that we tend to polarize the two, feeling the need to pick between the side of truth or the side of love? When we choose truth at the expense of love we ostracize people.  When we choose love at the expense of truth we omit God’s word.

Truth and love don’t have to live independent of each other, but so often lately in our culture they do.  We regard them as points on a continuum, truth at one end, love at the other.  They wave to each other from across the distance but never dare to come together for fear that joining forces will somehow chip away at their individual importance.  But that’s not what Jesus modeled for us.  In fact, scripture tells us that our maturity depends on both. 

Ephesians 4:15  “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is Christ.”

“The Bible tells us that truth is that which is consistent with the mind, will, character, glory and being of God.  Truth is not subjective, it is not a consensual cultural construct, and it is not an invalid outdated, irrelevant concept.  Truth is the self-expression of God.” (Taken from the Truth War, by John MacArthur).

The Holy Spirit guides us into truth.  John 16:13 says, “But when He, the Spirit of Truth comes, He will guide you into all the truth (full and complete truth).  For He will not speak on his own initiative, but He will speak whatever He hears (from the Father-the message regarding the Son), and He will disclose to you what is to come.”

My prayer for all of us, myself included, is that we would learn to embrace both the truth (the full and complete truth) and the love of the Father, Son & Holy Spirit. That we wouldn’t be tempted to pick up one without the other.  My prayer is that we would fully embrace the truth and take the time to wrap it up in the love of Jesus Christ as we offer it to each other and to a world in desperate need of Him.

A couple of weekends ago we traveled up north to our old stomping grounds of Hibbing, MN. As soon as we turned onto Hwy. 53 a receiving line of pine trees appeared and welcomed us, gently guiding us north toward our destination.  If there is a stretch of road that holds more memories for my husband & I than this, I am unaware of it. The 30 plus mile stretch would tell stories of two young kids heading off to their first ministry position together, it would tell of trips to Duluth for the sole purpose of a single cup of Starbuck’s coffee & it would smile and sigh as it recounted it all, fond memories of days gone by.

I had forgotten about the air up north, how when you breath you take in the heavy scent of pine.  I had forgotten how the shades of green from the pines and poplars mix together to form a brilliant new color. Somehow I had forgotten about the golden glow that covers it all as the evening sun sets.  I forgot how dark it gets up there, the sky turning ten shades darker than any night sky back home.  The thick blanket of darkness overhead becoming the perfect backdrop to offset the tiny glowing lights of the Big Dipper and the rest of the constellations.

When gazing at the night sky that weekend I felt smaller but somehow no less significant.  As if the twinkling lights that dotted the darkness pointed to my, to our, innate worth. They hung there suspended above as a reminder that we all have our own unique light to add. And when we do, it only enhances the overall beauty. 

And while I spent the weekend taking in all the raw beauty that nature was extending to me, I  was surprised to discover some of the most spectacular sights nestled into a rather odd place: an old mine dump.

Let me explain.

Hibbing is part of a group of towns in northern Minnesota referred to as the Iron Range.  The town essentially exists because of the iron ore mines located there.  We loaded the kids up in the car and made a stop at the Hull Rust Mine on the outskirts of town, a place where when you first pull up you could almost mistake it for a scenic overlook somewhere out west.  It’s a huge pit that encompasses miles and miles of iron ore and the enormous trucks needed to transport it.  The crew works different areas at a time, mining for the iron ore. Once they have gotten all of the ore from the ground, the leftovers, called tailings, are loaded into one of the huge trucks and then dumped in a designated location. There are enormous mountains of these tailings. Piles and piles of this rusty red colored rock, stacked high and wide.

And as I stood there staring out at the tailings, I couldn’t help but make a connection between those jagged red stones and my own life. Basically the tailings are the leftovers, the residue. My mistakes, disappointments and failures taking on the shape of a pile of rusty colored rocks. Sometimes it’s hard not to look at those piles and think “What a waste.” The tailings, like my own pile of regret, lay there taking up space. All of the valuable fractions of the stone have already been extracted, this is in essence a pile of leftovers.  It’s hard sometimes to not look at our tailings and wish them away.  It’s easy to think they don’t have anything to add anymore.  But I have to tell you, as I  stood at that pit and took it all in, I realized the tailings only enhanced the beauty.  They added a certain color and form to the landscape that made it all the more impressive.

Often times, the broken, ragged pieces of our lives add the depth and dimension to our picture that the smooth & painless times never could. 

When we give God our mistakes, disappointments & failures we can learn to walk through those tough times with humility and a willingness to learn.  We can learn to narrow our focus on what God wants to teach us through it.  We can come through the other side with a sense of gratefulness for the growth instead of a sense of bitterness from the blow. And when we learn to do that, we can look at our pile with a new perspective and find that grace has painted those those red rocks into our landscape and sometimes, the breathtaking detail of those broken and jagged pieces can become some of the most exquisite points on our canvas.

Today, if you’re going through something hard or you’re dwelling on a past mistake or hurt, allow God to show you a detail about it that you might be missing. Allow Him to use all of your experiences, tailings included, to paint a picture that only He can.  Trust his hand, his heart & his timing for your life.  And know that “He has made everything fit beautifully in its appropriate time.” Ecclesiastes 3:11

I have made it almost 4 decades without the date July 16th evoking any real emotion in me.  But this year  there is a somber angst in my soul. This year, the anniversary of the Vel d’Hiv Roundup haunts me like a heavy regret. I find myself staring at black and white photographs of people being dragged from their homes, corralled like cattle into buses that would land them, along with thousands of other innocent
victims, imprisoned in the Velodrome for the next week with very little food or water and without lavatories.

As I sit here researching pictures and articles depicting some of France’s darkest times, I am astonished and embarrassed by my lack of knowledge of what took place on those hot July days some 74 years ago in Paris. Just blocks away from the towering majesty and watchful eye of the Eiffel Tower lays a plot of land that if it could talk, would tell secrets of mankind’s ability to dehumanize and to hate.  It would whisper dark horrors in the still of night, the kind that make you long to wake-up and realize with acute relief that it was all just a dream.  The kind that begs your heart to slow its beat and causes you to check in on loved ones.

The Velodrome d’Hiver (Winter Velodrome) also known as the Vel d’Hiv, once an indoor cycling track hosting bike enthusiasts, became a place of imprisonment and isolation as French policeman rounded up close to 11,000 Jews that first day. Children between the ages of 2-16, along with their parents, were arrested and dragged from their homes. The twisted irony being that although many Jews had been forewarned of the danger, they believed the deportation would target only men, as it had in the past.  Consequently, the women and children did not go into hiding.  This made “Operation Spring Breeze,” the repulsing code name for this cruel and inhumane act, a success. In the course of two days, over 13,000 Jews were arrested and held captive in the Velodrome.

In the week following the arrests, Jews were taken from the Velodrome to the concentration camps of Pithiviers, Beaune-la-Rolande and Drancy. At the end of July and beginning of August, the Jews being held in these camps were separated from their children and deported. Mothers clung to their children, holding on in desperation as police officers ripped them from their grasp. Mental pictures were taken as parents and children alike tried to sear their loved one’s faces into their memories.  For many, this was the last time they would ever see their family again.

Before deportation, each prisoner’s head was shaved and his or her body subjected to a violent search, thereby stripping them not only of their hair and clothing, but also of their dignity.  By the end of September 1942, almost 38,000 Jews had been deported to Auschwitz from France. In 1945, only around 780 of them remained alive.

And of course this is only one sliver in the overall story of the Holocaust.  So many lives were lost, so many futures cut short.  And my heart implores my mind to make sense of it all. I try to come up with something to make the gnawing sick feeling in my gut go away.  I wrestle with questions that have no answers.

What I do believe is this: It matters deeply that we care.

It matters that I feel sick to my stomach over it and that I talk to my children about what happened on this fateful day.  It matters that we take time to remember. To wrestle with our grief, our pain and our loss. When we are able to connect our pain and loss to someone else’s our hearts become entangled as well. And it’s nearly impossible to hate someone you have let into your heart.

It seems so simple. Little. And not near enough.  When in truth, it’s the biggest, bravest thing we can do.

We can care. We can love. And we can never forget.

I recently had the opportunity to write for a blog called the Mudroom.  I love their tagline, “The Mudroom is a place for the stories emerging in the midst of the mess.” And that’s exactly what life is, our stories emerging in the midst of the mess. Because let’s face it, life is nothing if not messy.

Love is something that can be hard and messy at times too.  It’s like a banged up, bruised up family heirloom that holds all of our secrets.  We cling to it throughout the years, knowing that even with all of its faults, it holds immense value to us.

“Old love carries our disappointments, pain, and failures together in the same tender hands that hold our memories, laughter and dreams. Amazingly, it’s in the compilation of them where we discover the deepest, strongest roots of love.”

To read the rest of my post and check out their blog, head over to The Mudroom.

I woke up this morning to a chorus of birds singing outside my bedroom window. I love mornings that greet you with sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass. It just seems like everything is setting you up to have a wonderful day.

It’s my favorite time of year, when the back door that opens up onto our enclosed porch stays open all day, inviting people and sunshine alike to come on in and put their feet up for a while. It’s the time of year when the outdoors makes its way indoors and we are all the better for it.

If you’re looking for a few quick tips to help bring that outdoor look and feel indoors to your decorating, let me help! Here are a few quick and inexpensive spring decorating tips to update your decor.

1. Add the Color Green.

It really doesn’t matter whether it’s a pop of green in a new throw pillow for your couch, or a plant or some fresh limes thrown into a clear vase. The color green will make your space feel fresh and spring-like.  One of my favorite things as of late are boxwood wreaths. They are SO beautiful!!! I recently purchased one online at Target that I wanted to place in the middle of an old wooden door that I have hanging on my living room wall.  When it arrived however, I realized it was too small for the size of the door. So, I bought an adorable white wreath hanger and hung it on there. It adds a perfect splash of color and was pretty inexpensive. The best part is, the wreath hanger can actually be used for a number of other things as well. So, as the seasons change I can take the wreath off and add other things (pinecone wreath at Christmas?) or even use it as a clip to display pictures or pieces of art.

2.  Add a Terrarium.

So…I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not (you’d probably have to be either hiding under a rock or possibly just a mother of really young kids who hasn’t made it into Target for a loooong while now) but…terrariums are SO IN! I found mine for 40% off at JoAnn’s.  Now, here’s another piece of advice. NEVER BUY FULL PRICE AT JOANN’S. There is just really no reason to. They always have coupons & always have store sales. Many times they have a 40% off any one regularly priced item coupon. So, check the ad or better yet just download the app and you can access your coupons from there.

Terrariums have the added decor benefit of bringing some geometric shape to your space. And whether your design is modern, shabby chic or traditional, geometric shapes can be added to it and will freshen up your space.  Throw some moss (green!) into it and you have a great piece to display on your kitchen or living room table. My terrarium is a little smaller so I added it to a serving tray I already had (also found at JoAnn’s, clearanced out) and then added a few old books (you can add color this way too) tied together with some string or twine. I had a tiny little porcelain white bird that I added to the top of my books and done! So cute and easy and you can make your own little vignette by using what you already have laying around the house.

3. Pick some Flowers.

This is a pretty simple one. Most of us have some sort of flower or bush in our backyard that we can pick from. So grab a vase or other fun container (Mason jars!!!) and see how creative you can be. If you are lucky enough to have a lilac bush near you, then you’ve got it made. Like seriously, Martha Stewart’s got nothing on you. Adding a bouquet of lilacs to any room is an instant makeover. And the smell….oh my! They are really just one of God’s greatest creations. So venture into your backyard and see what you can find.

Another great way to display your flowers is by setting them up a bit higher. Whether that’s on an old book or some smaller piece of wood, it elevates them and gives them a place of prominence in your house. Several years ago we had an old birch tree in our backyard cut down. I was sad (husband’s idea, not mine) and I was lamenting this fact until I realized that I could bring a piece of that old tree inside. So, I had my husband cut several pieces a couple of inches thick and I use them to display all kinds of stuff. It is a virtual staple on my kitchen table and holds everything from little sugar canisters, to my essential oil bottles to flowers. It all just looks prettier on my birch wood! 

Hope this inspired you to get a little creative in your spring decor!  I’d love to hear from you about what you do to get your home ready for spring by leaving a comment below.

The seasons of our lives are ever changing.  Some of them come and go on a rather consistent schedule, ready to usher us into the next stage. But then there are other times, times when we’ve been stuck for so long in the same spot, times when winter seems to be the only season we’ve ever known and we begin to lose hope of ever seeing green ground again.

In expectation of what was coming, we did our best to prepare for it. We dressed ourselves in winter parkas, donned our fur lined boots, pulled tight the drawstring of our hoods under our chins, and slipped into our wool mittens.  We settled in for a long, cold winter and lost all hope of spring.

But have we missed the signs of a new season approaching? Do we need to get up off of the couch and press our faces to the window once again? Will we still see snow or will we by faith believe there are tiny green shoots getting ready to push through the ground?

During the cold we layered to protect ourselves from the elements but now we realize that we’ve also layered over our hearts. Maybe a bit too much? We have unknowingly suffocated our heart with layers of doubt and unbelief. Layers that were initially put on to protect us have now paralyzed us.

And God is whispering to us to take off the layers.

He is declaring it spring and asking us to dress the part. It’s time to shed the layers of the past and get ready for what’s coming. He’s wanting to exchange our heavy winter boots for a pair of summer sandals, our disappointments for his hope. 

I’m in a bit of a change of seasons myself lately.  It almost feels as if things are shriveling up and dying to make room for new growth. Tiny green buds are starting to poke through and as beautiful as they are, they are also a bit startling. Like the whiteness of my legs after a long winter. But just because it’s a bit surprising or shocking to us, doesn’t mean it wasn’t part of His plan all along.

The very definition of season is a time characterized by a particular circumstance or feature. And it’s as if God is whispering to us that those circumstances of the past aren’t going to mark us anymore. The season we were once stuck in isn’t going to define who we are.  He’s leading us into a new time, a new season that has its own unique features, if we will just learn to let go and trust Him.

Seasons are just that, seasons. And no season was meant to last forever. So if you’ve been stuck in a season of your life for a long time now, maybe it’s time to believe by faith that your new season is coming. It might be time to start dreaming about what that will look like, to start prepping your heart for what’s ahead. Perhaps you need to walk to the window, press your face hard against the glass and ask God to give you eyes to see what’s really going on. The last time you checked, it was still winter out there. But maybe, just maybe, this time when you look you’ll see signs of spring.

Wash me.

From my past and all of its hold over me.  The poor choices I have made and the harmful acts that have been done unto me.  This pain and this heavy shame, that roll in like ocean tide, knocking me off my feet and leaving me catching my breath.

Save me. Make me. 

White again. Cleansed again. Whole again.

For I believe that the act of one man set into motion a Wash Cycle for all mankind. 

His death on a cross for me, for you…was an act of washing. Of setting us free.

What can wash away my sin?

nothing but the blood of Jesus.

What can make me whole again?

nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Nothing can for sin atone, 

nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Naught of good that I have done, 

nothing but the blood of Jesus.

Nothing but….nothing other than… ONLY

the precious blood of Jesus.

Only through the washing and yet everything gets included under the washing.

Every mistake. Every sin. Every prideful attempt. Every hurt. Every loss.

Everything we bring to Him.

We are washed by a blood that makes all things new again.  A washing process that scrubs out our stains and leaves us white, clean & whole.  He takes us, our dirty rags and all and he soaks us in His grace. We are tossed and turned and sometimes we wrestle in the wash, feeling the full weight of our desperate need for a Savior.  But then He gently rinses us off, removing all traces of our muck and our dirt and He sets us apart.  We are clean. We are made right with God. We are saved.

Saved from ourselves, from our sin and from eternal separation from God.

We have been made righteous by his blood.

This is all my hope & peace, 

nothing but the blood of Jesus.

This is all my righteousness, 

nothing but the blood of Jesus. 

Oh, precious is the flow

that makes me white as snow;

No other found I know,

nothing but the blood of Jesus. 

I L-OOOOVE decorating.

It’s something that really gets my artsy vein pumping. I have a hard time leaving my furniture in the same spot for very long, I
like to switch things out and rearrange them.  Most of my time spent sitting on the couch in my living room involves dreaming of the perfect piece to add:  a seasonal decor item, something from the new Target line that whispers sweet nothings in my ear or that appliquéd pillow with just the right POP of color.  Then I’ll start daydreaming  about that old slab of wood lying in my garage that is just begging me to do something with it. Paint me, put some cool knobs on me, cover me with chalk paint. Do something to me!!!

I’m drawn to things like old wooden ladders, cotton branches, painted furniture, chalkboards & olive buckets. They seriously make me happy!! Recently I’ve discovered that most of the things in life that I enjoy and am drawn to, leave me holding this one word: beauty.

It seems to be the common denominator.  I love to express beauty in my writing, in my home decor, in my friendships, my wardrobe and even my cooking.  But for so long I feel like I’ve shied away from vocalizing these thoughts and feelings. Feeling mildly ashamed and thinking in my head that somehow it’s shallow of me. That it’s shallow to want to make things beautiful.  After all, there’s a hurt and aching world out there, surely there must be a higher calling than just wanting to make things beautiful.  When spoken out loud it seems so Superficial. Like an ugly stepsister to Shallow and I don’t want to be related to either one of them.

And yet…  Jesus was all about bringing beauty to this world.  From Creation to the grave. Even his blood stained hands reflect the beauty of his unfathomable love for us.

Proof that beauty can be a marker of love. 

I’ve been following this idea around lately, this idea that even the everyday physical can be spiritual.

The belief that God can take my offering, my life, my work and make it a spiritual act with spiritual significance. 

And this idea itself is something beautiful.

Our physical acts become spiritual when done with love. Sometimes the most spiritual things we do are physical acts. The dinner we cook for our family after a long day, the note we drop in the mail to encourage a friend, the laundry we do in the wee hours of the night so our kids can wear their favorite sweatshirt to school the next day. These are all physical acts that when done in love, reveal beauty.

Love produces beauty. It always will. 

Because it’s beautiful to cook a meal for your family after you’ve worked hard all day and are bone tired. It’s beautiful to celebrate and encourage friends. It’s downright gorgeous to give yourself more laundry just because little miss wants to wear her favorite shirt tomorrow.

It can literally change your life when you believe that the mundane things you do during the day can have a spiritual significance. And I know, oh I know all too well ladies, that it’s hard to feel the weight of our significance while slathering peanut butter on bread in the morning for the kid who just realized school hot lunch was sloppy joe’s.  I realize that much of what we do feels oh so physical and not at all spiritual.

But I would gently remind  you of the same thing we whisper into our kids’ ears from time to time, “Just because you FEEL something, doesn’t make it TRUE.” 

We have to constantly remind ourselves of truth. And here’s a truth for you:Love paints a beautiful picture. Love is what makes the mundane act of making a child’s lunch beautiful.  Love is what gets us through a tough day of parenting only to be reminded at tuck in time what a blessing that strong-willed child is. The brushstrokes of love cover our days, gently blending in the rough edges of life and leaving us with our own masterpiece, one that is nothing short of breathtaking.

We’re all trying to make life more beautiful. I believe it’s something God places inside of us,  the desire to create, to make things beautiful. And whether that’s a song that is composed or a cozy living room that has been designed, beauty is revealed.  As we do our best to bring our own unique slice of beauty to this world we are reminded that the most beautiful act ever performed was by God. The act of sending his own son to this world to die on a cross for our sins, is by far the most amazing example of a physical act becoming spiritual.  There’s nothing that compares with the beauty of his blood stained hands that were nailed to the old rugged cross.

Love produces beauty, it always will.

“It’s just a box. A plain old box.”

The words that ran around in my head all morning upon the realization that my daughter was taking an undecorated shoe box to school for her Valentine’s container.

I tried my best to shove all the crazy down. You know, the crazy that makes you start asking yourself all kinds of questions. Questions like: Will people think I’m a deadbeat mom because of this? Will other kids laugh at her because it’s not decorated?  And then of course on the heels of guilt for me is always lots of excuses. So, I started in: Well, she took a shoe box because I didn’t have enough time. I had to work all day yesterday, I had to get my husband and sons ready for their weekend getaway. There were conferences this week and small group leader’s meetings to host and on and on….

In the middle of my crazy I caught a glimpse of my daughter sitting at the counter eating her breakfast, smiling, happy & content. So I asked her, “Do you want to add anything to your box?” She just glanced up at me and said, “No mom, I think it looks great. It’s just a box, but it’s a pretty one.”

I looked at the box again and thought “She’s right. It is kind of pretty.”

“It doesn’t really matter what the outside looks like anyways, all the goodies go inside.”

She’s right of course. The outside isn’t what matters most. It’s the stuff inside.

We spend so much time and energy making things appear beautiful on the outside when all the while God is whispering to our hearts that his desire is for us to beautify our insides. And one of the best ways to do this is by simply loving others. John 13:35 says, “Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.”

Our love for one another is the thing that will prove to the world that we are His.

As I scrolled through my FB feed this morning I saw pictures of some pretty amazing Valentine’s boxes. Time was taken, thought was put into them, love was given. My dear friend Sarah spent her late night hours finishing an act of love her daughter Olivia started that included homemade loom bracelets and perler bead crafts, each in the favorite colors of her classmates. Unfortunately Olivia got sick and wasn’t able to finish them all, so mom stepped in to help.  And I contend that this, this small act of love, is what shouts to our world that we are Christ followers.

Because truth be told, the perler beads and the loom bracelets aren’t what matters. What makes all the difference is love. The love behind the idea to make something special for all of her classmates and the love behind a mom staying up late to accomplish it.

A box can be just a box…if there isn’t any love attached to it. And a loom bracelet is just a loom bracelet, without a mother’s love tied to it.

Which also means that my daughter’s plain old shoe box, when carrying the names of her classmates written with love, is so much MORE than just a plain old shoe box. 

Because love is what makes all the difference. His love for us should be the driving force behind our love for others. So, this Valentine’s weekend let’s make an effort to love well.  It doesn’t matter so much the details involved as it does the love behind it. Let’s do what Pastor Dave shared about last weekend in church, let’s be people who love well over time.  Love: It’s what makes all the difference. 

Don’t do it.

I know it’s tempting but don’t.

Christmas is over,  New Year’s Day has come and gone.  All of the lights, the tinsel, the cranberries and the pine boughs that have decorated your house for the past month or two suddenly feels like a relative that has overstayed their welcome. It’s time to pack it up and head out.

Sure, it may be time to put away your decorations but this is no time to pack up your Hope with your Christmas bulbs.

It’s time to pull out the oversized plastic bins labeled ‘Christmas Decor’ and throw everything haphazardly inside. At times cramming things in, hoping that when we open it again next year nothing will be smashed or broken.  ChristmasTIME  has expired and this stuff has to go. If we have to employ the power of our bottom end to add some force to the cover, then so be it.  I haven’t met a lid yet that my rear end couldn’t close.

Of course there are those of you who start out a little different. You are careful to pull out the bins, organize as you go, wrap each bulb carefully in tissue paper and then gently place them in their own individual containers.  You take each strand of lights & wrap them carefully so that next year they will roll off the line without any tangles or knots. But even the majority of you that start off like this will eventually join the ranks of us that stoop to whatever measure is necessary. It’s just a matter of time.

So go ahead and pack up your Christmas leftovers, just don’t pack up all the Hope you’ve been collecting over the past month. 

There’s something magical about the Christmas season. It ignites our hearts with love and hope. We start believing again that there’s hope….hope for that strained relationship to be restored. Hope that we can be the kind of parent, spouse & friend that we desire to be. Hope that we can learn to live our lives with a little more grace for ourselves and for others.  Hope that this world really can change with a simple, small act of love.

After all, that’s what the Christmas story reminds us of…that baby Jesus (our simple small act of love) changes our world and brings us hope throughout the year.

So don’t store it away until next year.  Hope is not a seasonal item. 

Go ahead and display it. Make a place for it in your home and in your heart. Carry it with you. May it be your constant companion on all this coming year has in store for you.

I hate being misunderstood.

Lately I’ve discovered it’s something that I really struggle with. It frustrates me. I don’t like it when people only see or hear a “snippet” of something and then draw a biased conclusion based upon it.  It makes my inner person want to stand up and scream, “That’s not fair!!!”  I want to explain myself & let them hear my side of the story. I want to defend myself. As my husband would say, “Kitchen Jessica” would make an appearance. (This is the name he has given me for those times when I just have to get something off my chest, set the record straight and unleash all my big feelings on him…and usually this takes place in the kitchen.)

Throughout this past year, I have found myself having this feeling often.  It’s my constant companion,  bubbling just under the surface. This desire to defend.

The problem lies when I want to defend but I know that it’s not what God wants me to do.  Sometimes (probably most times) I think God just wants me to turn to him, trust him, leave the defending to him.

This is something that I really admire about Mary, the mother of Jesus.  She had an unwavering trust in God to place her honor and reputation in his hands. If anyone can relate to being misunderstood, or misrepresented, it’s her.  One minute she’s a virgin pledged to be married and the next she’s pregnant with the Son of God.  Suddenly her life is turned upside down and she’s marked with misunderstandings. People whispering behind her back about who the father might be. Speculation as to her virtue.  Snide remarks and pious gazes following her around wherever she went.

If I were Mary, I’d wanna yell it from the rooftops, set the record straight: “Listen, this isn’t what it looks like!”  I’d want to kick into defense mode. Kitchen Jessica would have a few choice words.

But here’s Mary’s response:

“Yes, I see it all now. I’m the Lord’s maid, ready to serve. Let it be with me just as you say.”

She doesn’t turn into “Kitchen Mary” and start complaining about how people will misunderstand her and what a scandal this will be for her. She doesn’t stomp her feet and unleash all her big feelings everywhere. She just trusts.

And this act of trust is simple and it’s beautiful. But it’s also so very powerful.

While reading, I noticed the way in which the angel Gabriel greets her in such a personal and encouraging way. He doesn’t just jump right in with the big news. He starts off with this:

“Good morning! You’re beautiful with God’s beauty, beautiful inside and out! God be with you.”

Can you imagine receiving that kind of greeting? It kind of takes the edge off of having an angel appear unannounced at your door. These words set the tone for the rest of their conversation.  I find it very telling that these are the first words that God chooses to have Gabriel speak to Mary. As a woman, this greeting chips away at my defensive parts and leaves me raw and vulnerable. It’s more than a greeting, it’s a declaration really. A declaration of identity and of love.

When we are secure in our identity in Christ and reminded of his love, we lose our desire to defend ourselves.

The strong desire to defend loosens its grip on us and we are free to exchange our defending for resting. My prayer today is that when we sense that intense desire to defend we are reminded to first turn to God and allow him to speak a declaration of love and identity over us.  And as we allow that truth to settle on us, may we choose to rest in him.

Psalm 62:5-8

Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God[c];
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.

Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.

It seems as if everywhere I turn lately I see it.

Taking on different forms and different names, but I see it just the same. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of it head on, other times a peripheral vision of it. At other times I can feel it, sneaking up on me.  It taps me on the shoulder and then runs and hides. Like a young friend initiating a game with me. Except it’s a game that I don’t want to play and it is no friend of mine.

It sits in the waiting room of the doctor’s office,  lounges on the couch in the family room, waits in line at the grocery store and even makes an appearance on the evening news. It’s no respecter of age, race or religion.  It’s a world traveler in many regards.

Following the tracks it leaves behind would lead you to a fracture point.  A beginning point, however small, of where it all began.

Brokenness.

It surrounds us.

I saw it on the images that plastered my television screen last night. I saw it in the face of a man who lost multiple friends  & coworkers in California yesterday. I don’t know him. I have never even seen his face before,  but it didn’t feel distant or removed. It felt real and honest and incredibly close.

I hear it in the conversations I have with friends struggling with issues in their parenting, their marriages, their friendships.  Real issues that have them barely holding on, struggling with decisions and wrestling with their faith.

I felt the sting of it as I cried with my childhood friend on the phone last night whose dad lost his battle with cancer yesterday afternoon. She has lost both her parents to cancer in less than 2 years. She’s 38, the same age as me, and  I cannot imagine walking through life at this age without either of my parents.

I saw it in the eyes of my oldest son last night as he shared his heart with me about a friend whose family is going through a divorce. He’s scared of it, the brokenness.

Aren’t we all?

It can be so very real and so very heavy.
And it likes to tell us stories. It spins tall tales of how we are alone in our brokenness. Of how nobody else can understand what we’re going through. It seeks to isolate. It whispers that we are not enough, that we are failures and unloveable. It seeks to seize us with fear. It paints a picture so bleak we are unable to see past it. It has an uncanny ability to cloud our perspective and cast shadows of doubt over us.  It wants to paint everything in a template of grey and gloom. It seeks to fill our hearts with despair and depression. 

But what if the word brokenness had multiple meanings? What if brokenness also meant invitation? An invitation to share our brokenness.

Our brokenness shows us our need. A need we all have.  A need for mending, for reconciliation, for redemption.  A need that points us to our Savior,  Emmanuel,  God with us. A love that came down from heaven and took on the form of a baby that he might be, in every sense of the word, our Emmanuel.

The light that is shed on our brokenness points us to the Light that if we follow, will lead us through the darkness. It will lead us through and out. It will lead us to a place where the brokenness is displaced, expelled by the Love, the Light of the World that came down for us.

And as we are vulnerable about our brokenness we have the unique ability to share the hope we have with a lost and hurting world. This Christmas season let’s be honest and vulnerable.  Let’s be willing to meet people in the middle of their brokenness and share ours with them as well.   Let’s also point them towards the hope that we have in our Savior, in baby Jesus, in our Emmanuel God with us. Let’s let our brokenness lead the way to our redemption.

We went to an apple orchard a few weeks back and came home with a bounty of delicious apples of all sizes & varieties. The honey crisp apples were some of largest apples I have ever laid eyes on but I also discovered my new favorite eating apple there, the Liberty apple.

We have been having apples as snack for weeks now.  We’ve had sliced apples on their own, dipped in peanut butter,  slathered in homemade caramel dip, apple crisp and apple pie.  I won a dehydrator off of a local auction site (the extent of my excitement over this was somewhat embarrassing) and set off to make some apple chips.

During my apple binge I discovered a great recipe for apple crisp. It’s a little different than the normal recipe but it’s delicious. It’s from “A Taste of the Country” Seventh Edition.

Apple Crisp

1 c. flour

3/4 c. rolled oats

1 c. brown sugar

1/2 c. butter, softened

4 c. chopped & peeled apples

1 c. sugar

2 T. cornstarch

1 c. water

1 t. vanilla extract

Vanilla ice cream, optional (not really)

Directions:

In a mixing bowl, combine first four ingredients. Cut in butter until crumbly. Press half into a greased 2-1/2 qt. baking dish or a 9-in. square baking pan. Cover with apples. In a saucepan, combine sugar, cornstarch, water and vanilla; cook and stir until thick and clear. Pour over apples. Sprinkle with remaining crumb mixture. Bake at 350 degrees for about 1 hour or until the apples are tender. Serve warm, with ice cream if desired. (Duh, obviously) Yield: 8 servings

The only thing that made this dessert discovery better was remembering to pull out my new dishes from the Pioneer Woman’s line.  They are so beautiful I can’t even…

They are a gorgeous shade of turquoise and when I first laid eyes on them my heart literally skipped a beat.

Seriously, I am in love with these dishes. And a scoop of this apple crisp with a small dollop or two of vanilla ice cream offset is like a culinary work of art.

I can’t wait to make another dessert, mainly just so I can use these dishes again.  So grab a few apples a
t the store today & throw this in the oven after dinner. I guarantee you your family will thank you. Your children will be indebted to you and you can use it to your advantage. Hey, it’s always good to have a little leverage as a parent. Hope you enjoy!

Staring down at the cold hard granite, I slipped some sugar into my tea and began stirring. The tea was just a distraction. Something to take my mind off the fact that I had no idea what we were going to have for dinner that night. It’s 5:00 already!?!

The thought alone was enough to make me come undone.

I was a failure. Or at least that’s what I’d allowed myself to believe.

Visions of Pinterest boards danced in my head.  Facebook posts of gourmet dinners threatened my sanity.

The black marbled countertop looked back at me accusingly. “Remember when you first moved in here? Remember all the promises you made?”

And I had. I had told myself that my lack of desire to whip up a home cooked meal, every night for the rest of my darling little family’s lives was hinged to the fact that I hated my old kitchen. It was tiny, cramped, dark and ugly. Surely in my new kitchen, with its sparkling granite counter tops & built in pantry cheering me on, I would succeed in creating a culinary masterpiece for my people for the entirety of our days.

Once upon a time, happily ever after, the end.

But I was wrong. So wrong.

And now, standing here in the very place I vowed was going to bring me the fulfillment and the satisfaction I desired, I realized it hadn’t been enough.  This dream kitchen of mine that I thought would satisfy me wasn’t enough.  And somehow through a series of wrong turns and accusations I came to another conclusion: I wasn’t enough. I’m a failure as a mom.

Who says? 

The enemy would love for us to just accept every name he tossed our way. He’s got a long list of them. Liar. Insecure. Hypocrite. Unworthy. Failure. The list goes on and on. And he tosses them at us when we’re most vulnerable.

But that’s not who God says we are. That is not who we are. It’s not our name.

Instead, he calls us: Just. Secure. Authentic. Worthy. Loved. Forgiven. 

The God who spoke our world into being is the same God that lovingly leans in and whispers to us that we are His…THAT is who we are!

I haven’t been able to get the lyrics from the song “Good Good Father” out of my head lately.

“You’re a good good father. That’s who you are. That’s who you are. And I’m loved by you. It’s who I am. It’s who I am.”

Today let’s allow God to tell us who we are. Let’s ignore all the other voices. Whether they are lies the enemy is telling us, a person we trust or admire that isn’t seeing us the way God sees us, or just our own harassing doubts.  We are loved by God. It’s who we are. 

It’s the first day back to school here in my sweet little hometown of Austin, MN. I spent the morning pouring through posts & pictures on Facebook of friends & family sharing glimpses of their morning.  There were the sweet little smiles of Kindergarteners waiting for the big yellow bus to pick them up and take them off to school for an entire day.  There were excited Seniors ready to conquer their final year and enjoy all the lasts this year will offer them. Some parents posted of their excitement to ship the kids off to school and to a more structured routine. Others were white knuckling it as they dropped off their kids and the door shut behind them.

But no matter what season of life you find yourself in this morning, we all want the same things for our kids. We want them to have a great year. We want them to learn, to be a good friend, to stand up for what’s right, to learn respect for others and to have other trusted adults speak encouragement into them.

We have so many hopes and dreams for our kids.  They are as unique and individual as our children themselves. But we also know that this world holds no promises that they will sail through life without any problems. In fact, we know that to be impossible. So today as we have prepared our kids in every other way: bought them new school clothes, new shoes, paid the fees, did the supply list shopping, bought the special calculator for their pre-Algebra class and packed their lunches….can we do one more thing? 

Let’s pray over our children.

Let’s take a minute and ask God to give them the ability to learn the concepts being taught, to give them His love so that they can be a good friend, to give them the confidence and bravery needed to stand up for what’s right. It’s all in Him. Everything we need is in HIM.

Here are 2 of the verses I’m praying over my kids this school year. I inserted “my children” into them to personalize them.

“Give my children a spirit of power, of love & of self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7

“My children will know the love that surpasses knowledge-filled to the measure with all the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:19

This year I pray our kids would know God’s love and share God’s love. His love is what our world needs. It’s what we need. Have a great “back to school” day!

This one word has followed me around this advent season. And to be honest, it has been following me around for most of this past year.

Emmanuel.  God with us. 

It seems fitting here as I gaze out the window at the beautiful fresh fallen snow on the ground. As I watch the snow flakes continue to fall onto the painted white ground. In the advent season, the days leading up to our Savior’s birth, the name Emmanuel is heard often. As we read scripture verses, as we sing hymns, it’s repeated over and over. And we think of the tiny newborn baby coming to be…with us. His amazing grace all wrapped up in swaddling clothes, laying in a manger. The first time Jesus is with us.

Where I didn’t expect to find Emmanuel was in the hot, dry heat of Zambia, Africa. The name Emmanuel doesn’t seem like it belongs in a desert. Hanging there dry & dusty without a trace of snow or mistletoe. Seems like an awkward place for it. But just as he made his entry into this world in a way we least expected, he met me on the warm soil of Africa in a way I least expected.

We were up bright & early to make our way to a village to pass out shoes with Soles For Jesus. To tell the truth the trip had taken a bit of a toll on my “mama heart” and I was missing my kids. Which I wrestled with because here I was amidst so many children who had so little and I was here to help. To love on them. To share God’s love with them. To bring them shoes. This wasn’t the time to thinking about my own kids. I opened the van door and walked out to where a group of people had already started assembling. And that’s when I saw him. This little boy running straight towards me, arms open wide. I had just enough time to crouch down and open my arms wide as he jumped up into them. And there he sat. Holding me. Arms around my neck. And he was in no hurry to leave. So I stood up and walked around with him, head on my shoulders, arms around my neck. Like he was my very own. He didn’t move for probably 15 minutes. The way he drew his body up into a big ball and wrapped his legs tight around me reminded me so much of my son Levi who I dubbed my “spider monkey” years ago. It was like therapy just holding him. Later I learned his name. Emmanuel. God with us. 

The rest of the day was met with this same name over and over agin. I couldn’t escape it.  It seemed every time I asked a person their name their response was the same: Emmanuel.

His very personal way of reminding me that he was with me.

And he whispers the same today. To me and to you. To all.

He is our God and he is with us.

He’s with us through the joyous times and the discouraging times.

He’s with us through loss. Unimaginable, heart breaking, staggering loss.

He’s with us through the hurt and pain of rejection.

He’s with us through the bumps and bruises of parenting.

He’s with us when we’re feeling like we’ve got things handled pretty well and he’s with us when we can feel life unraveling around us.

It doesn’t matter where we are or where we go. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christmas time or we’re on the African plains.

He is with us.

He came to be with us. He desires to have a relationship with us.  He came to share His love with us. And his heart desire is for us to share that love with others.

I pray that throughout this next year we would truly understand the holy weight of the word Emmanuel. God is with us. I think it just might change everything.

 “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). Matthew 1:23

A favorite Christmas treat for our family is homemade Egg Nog. This year my 7-year old daughter Hannah helped me whip up  a batch for a Christmas party for our Kids’ Ministry Leaders. After sampling it for what she said was her first time ever she decided it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. We had to whip up another batch a few days later for our family to properly inhale, I mean enjoy. It’s super easy & because it’s Christmas the calorie intake doesn’t count. Enjoy!

 1 dozen egg yolks (beaten)

1c. sugar

1 pt. 1/2 & 1/2

1 C. heavy whipping cream

1 qt. egg nog (any store bought brand)

1 gallon whole milk

vanilla to taste

rum flavoring to taste (I usually omit this as I don’t always have it on hand)

nutmeg to garnish

yield: ~1 1/2 gallons

Separate egg yolks. Beat the egg yolks & add sugar. Beat well. In another bowl whip the heavy whipping cream with some sugar (regular or powdered sugar, whatever you have on hand). Set aside. Mix all the cold ingredients & the egg & sugar combination in a large bowl. At the very end, fold in the heavy whipping cream. Add spices to taste.

I throw a nice heaping tablespoon of nutmeg across the top. Looks so pretty & gives it a great taste!

They say beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.

It’s a romantic notion. But also one that suggests that beauty can somehow change or shift depending upon the person observing it. Take for example me. I’m not altogether sure most people would look at me and think I’m beautiful. I’d like to think I’m not overtly offensive to most, but still the word beautiful seems a stretch.  It’s a description we tend to save for those things or  people who are truly special to us.  The interesting thing is that while most would not bestow this title upon me, my husband does. He absolutely thinks I’m beautiful. At times it baffles me. Early on in our marriage I just flat out thought that he was full of it. That he was just flattering me.  But I’ve come to realize that he truly believes it. When he looks at me he sees more than just my outer or physical attributes, he sees who I really am. He knows me. And he believes me to be beautiful. And you know what? He has believed it and spoken it over me for so long that I’ve come to believe it about myself.

I was biking the other day and feeling a bit melancholy about life in general and about how fast my kids seem to be growing up.  I was riding through a part of the bike trail that was secluded with trees and dotted with little lavender flowers. The sky was a brilliant blue dotted with puffy white clouds overhead. And as I took in all the beauty around me, I couldn’t help but still feel a sense of sadness.   Yes, there was beauty here. I could see that. Anybody could. But my heart was heavy, pondering where the beauty was in life’s brokenness.  You know, the aches and pains of parenting. How is that beautiful?  The friend who lost her mom to cancer.  What could possibly be beautiful about that?  The loneliness of the single mom soon to be an empty nester.  What part of that has beauty?  There are just so many parts of life that don’t look beautiful to me.

But I began to wonder if maybe we’re looking at it wrong.  Maybe beauty doesn’t lie in the eyes of the beholder.  Maybe beauty lies in the arms of the holder.

When beauty is dependent upon the observer, then the definition of beauty shifts and changes depending upon who is observing.  But beauty, true beauty should be a constant.  Never changing, never dependent upon another’s perspective.  True beauty just is.  It stands independently.

Perhaps true beauty doesn’t lie in the viewing as much as it does in the holding.  Perhaps beauty lies in the arms of the One who holds it all together.

“…everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. He was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment.” Colossians 1:17,18 

If that verse doesn’t scream beauty, then I don’t know what does.

And maybe, just maybe, my inability to see the beauty doesn’t dictate whether or not the beauty exists.

We live in a world that says beauty is all about what we see. But I felt God challenge me to stop looking and start sensing the beauty around me.

When I am going through a tough parenting season and I look at my situation, I don’t see beauty. I just don’t.

But sometimes a friend will encourage me to keep going. They might pray for me and remind me of God’s faithfulness to me in the past.  And then, even though my situation is still the same, even though I still don’t see anything beautiful, I sense something beautiful. I feel God at work in my life, in my circumstances, and that feels beautiful to me.

And for my dear friend who lost her mom to cancer. There is nothing beautiful about the cancer or the loss. There just isn’t.  But if you dig a little deeper and talk to her you will find there is much beauty to be found in the aftermath of the ugly. Like the beauty of her knowing that she serves a God who walks through the loss with her. The gift of realizing how precious life is. The desire to connect with her kids on a deeper level because of the loss. All of this is beautiful. 

Maybe today you can see the beauty around you. Maybe it’s pretty obvious to you in your current circumstances. Thank God for that. Thank Him for the moments we can see the beauty.  But maybe today your circumstances seem a bit more bleak and you’re struggling to find any sort of beauty in it. Maybe it just doesn’t look beautiful to you, no matter what angle you come at it from. It’s just plain ugly!  Can I encourage you to let God hold your ugly?  Maybe a sliver of beauty will appear in the simple process of letting go and having him hold it all for you.  Maybe you feel like a hot mess. Like you’re just barely hanging on. Can I remind you that even in these moments or seasons of life that seem downright out of control….there’s a God who holds it all together and wants to walk through it with you. Beauty doesn’t always look like we think it should. But if we trust him he will hold the ugly for us and point us towards the beauty. He can create beauty out of anything. Ecclesiastes 3:11, “He has made all things beautiful in his time.”

I keep trying to sum up my trip to Africa in a word or a few short sentences. I have so many wonderful friends & family members who supported me along the way and they want to know, “How was it?” 

And so I keep grasping for the right word. There must be one. Or the right the answer. Something to say to the neighbor in that 5-minute window we have that will capture all my thoughts and feelings about the incredible country and the amazing people I met during my trip. But honestly, there’s just not. And it almost seems to cheapen the experience to not share it all. To just say, “It was amazing” or “Life changing.” Although it was, in fact, both of these things.

So because this blog is such a great venue for me to express myself and to share my heart with you, I will do my best to give you a glimpse into my time there.

If I was only allowed one word, and let’s be real, “Who would put such silly stipulations on sharing an experience?” But, if that were the case, the word that keeps surfacing to my mind is
wrecked.

Wrecked:  Any building, structure or thing, reduced to a state of ruin. Or in my case, any person. Wrecked: to tear down, demolish. My thoughts and ideas. My preconceived notions. “Wrecked: When a Broken World Slams into your Comfortable Life.” (A book by Jeff Goins.) 

That’s pretty much how I feel. I am feeling bruised from the cold pieces of this broken world that have slammed hard against my comfortable life.

It’s like I exchanged my heart for a sponge this last week and came to Africa dry and porous.  I soaked in the people, the villages, the culture and the breathtaking landscape. But more than that-I soaked in their eyes as they looked at me.  Their eyes told a story. For some it was a sad, hard story. Others looked at me with hope, their eyes shining. Many took my hand and squeezed it saying, “Thank-you. Thank-you so much!” or “God bless you!” And all of it I soaked in.

The very first feet I washed were the strong & beautiful feet of the oldest female leader in the village of Chiyali. As I took her feet & guided them to the wash basin, a feeling of humbleness like nothing I have ever experienced before washed over me. My hands were trembling as I grabbed the washcloth and slowly started washing her feet. Then I took the towel and started to dry her feet, daring to look up into her eyes. Scared I would unleash a flow of tears I would be powerless to stop, but knowing this was not the time for holding anything back, I laid my hand on her shoulder. I looked deep into her eyes and said “God bless you for all that you do.” She looked at me, a perfect stranger, her eyes full of love and gratefulness as she thanked me.

She thanked me.

This incredibly strong woman that has spent her life serving her family and her village, working the ground to produce crops to feed her family and tending to the needs of the poor in her village. She IS a Proverbs 31 woman and she is thanking me? 

I’m still letting that one settle.

And so it went. People greatly moved by our act of love displayed in the washing of their feet and the gifting of a pair of shoes. One pair of shoes.

37.

That’s the number of shoes I currently have sitting in my closet.

And guess what? I’m not having to wear them to walk 3 miles to get the water I’m going to use for the day. No, I have them to match all of my different outfits. Ugh.

In one of the villages there was a little girl, probably about 7 or 8 years old who was very excited about her new shoes. I couldn’t help but think of my own daughter Hannah who is the same age. She was smiling from ear to ear and was just staring at her shoes as if she had just been handed the greatest gift of her life. And I guess in some ways it was. The interpreter told me that it was the very first pair of shoes she has ever owned. She has never owned a single pair of shoes.  The excitement in her smile wrecked me some more.

And I soaked it in.

My heart-turned sponge is saturated with faces I can’t let go of. Don’t want to let go of.

It’s dripping with the idea that life is best lived simply.

That living with less doesn’t include living with less of God.

I have never met a people group with less who love more.

Philippians 4:11-14 was written by the Apostle Paul but this morning when I read this verse, all I could hear were the voices of my African brothers and sisters saying,

“I’m glad in God, far happier than you would ever guess—happy that you’re again showing such strong concern for me. Not that you ever quit praying and thinking about me. You just had no chance to show it. Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. I don’t mean that your help didn’t mean a lot to me—it did. It was a beautiful thing that you came alongside me in my troubles.”

Whatever you have, wherever you are, you can make it through anything in the One who makes you who you are. 

This truth should wreck you too.

I love it when something “clicks” in my parenting journey. I love it when there’s a connection point for me or my kids, or both if we’re really lucky. As a mom I’m constantly devouring anything I can in regards to parenting. Books, blogs, magazine articles, absolutely anything. Sometimes I wonder how I can take in so much great information and still be such a klutz when it comes to applying it. But when those “connection moments” happen, it can be pretty powerful.

My adorable strong-willed middle child has taught me more about myself than I sometimes care to admit. I spent the first several years of his life thinking we were nothing alike. At some point along the way it hit me that actually we were a whole lot more alike than I’d first been willing to admit. And at this point in our relationship I think it’s safe to say that at times it’s like looking in the mirror. Stubborn is the word that I use to describe my son but when referring to myself it somehow translates into “passionate.” Sounds better, don’t you think?

The two of us have embarked on a journey together that has taught me to celebrate the little things. Small victories. Baby steps people! And so I have spent the last few months specifically praying for divine wisdom in understanding and relating to my son Levi. And true to form, God has been giving me glimpses into my son’s heart.

I’ve discovered that my son really thrives when I speak out encouraging words to him or about him. If you’ve read the book The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman, then you’re probably already guessing that my son’s love language is words of affirmation. And, you would be right. But God has really helped me go even deeper to realize the impact that other people’s words have on my son. I’ve been slowly realizing this but something happened last week that just brought it all home for me again.

A friend of mine wrote me a sweet note. In it she basically explained how she had seen Levi firsthand be kind and understanding to her son in the midst of an agitating situation. The letter wasn’t real long. She basically just shared what she had seen transpire and then said this simple statement. “Levi is a gem of a kid.” And I have to tell you, I was holding back the tears. It encouraged me so much! That simple note said so much more than the words in it. It was like God was speaking through the letter reminding me that my prayers and my tears and my heartache have not gone unnoticed. He reminded me again that we are all in our own stage of growth and that He is still in the process of writing our story. Levi’s story. My story. Our family story. He’s not done yet…He’s still writing.

I don’t think I had finished reading the letter for more than 30 seconds when I had a thought pop in my head. I decided I would read it to Levi in the morning. Sure, I wanted him to know that I was proud of him, but I had also begun to see the significance of other people’s encouraging words.  The next morning it just so happened that my two other children were sick and sleeping in so it was just Levi & I getting ready for school. He had on his favorite football robe, his Star Wars blanket all wrapped up tight around his neck and his hair was disheveled.  I grabbed a chair, pulled it up next to him and told him I wanted to read him a letter that a friend of mine had sent. He listened intently, his face beaming with pride and his mouth turned up at both ends into the widest smile he could muster. About halfway through the letter I noticed tears starting to stream down his rosy little cheeks. By the end of the letter we were both crying.

I was so moved by his reaction to it. And then he looked up at me with his big beautiful eyes and his tear-stained face and said this: “Mom, I know you love me. And I know you’re proud of me. But it’s really great to know that somebody else feels that way about me too.”

It took my breath away. The honesty in that moment. The way he was able to understand what he was feeling and then explain it to me in simple words. That, in and of itself, was something for us to celebrate.

So tonight I am thankful for a friend who took the time to write a kind word. Thankful for the progress my little man has made in his relationships. And even more than that, I am thankful for a God who as amazingly complex as He is…. is also sweetly simple.

“If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you.” James 1:5

So whether you’re in a difficult situation or a tough season of life right now, I want to encourage you to keep praying. And be specific too.  Ask for the wisdom we so desperately need and he so desires to give us. I truly believe that because I had been praying and asking God for wisdom and understanding with Levi that God dropped the idea of sharing the note with him into my heart. We were able to share a beautiful moment together that bonded our hearts together. And you mamas know that it’s those “beautiful” little moments that get us through the larger and more frequent “ugly” ones.

I don’t think it was a coincidence that it was just the two of us in the kitchen that morning.  God’s hand is in the tiny little details. We just have to be watching for them. Sometimes they are so little they are easy to overlook.

There is something supernatural that happens when encouragement is taking place. God can do a deep work in those little moments of life. I think of how a friend who took a moment to write a sweet note was able to not only encourage this mama’s heart but also the heart of her son. I bet she had no idea.

Romans 14:19 says, “So let’s agree to use all our energy in getting along with each other. Help others with encouraging words…” 

Acts 20:2 says, “Traveling through the country, passing from one gathering to another, he gave constant encouragement, lifting their spirits and charging them with fresh hope.”

So what sweet little word of encouragement is God whispering to your heart today? Who will you share it with? You never know the power those words may carry. 

Pulling the covers up tight around my daughter’s face the way she likes them. Just her little wide eyes and the very top part of her nose peeking out. Tucking the blankets up and under her feet, making her all snug and cozy. I lean in and whisper to her how thankful I am that she’s mine. Leaning in, I kiss the top of her head as I say a prayer over her. In that moment He whispers to my heart: I want you to lean in to me like you lean in to her.

But leaning is kind of personal. A certain amount of vulnerability comes with it. After all, we don’t tend to lean in to people we don’t know all that well. Or trust all that well.

Leaning often means relying. Which for some of us doesn’t exactly come easily. Relying has to do with trusting. And sometimes we’ve been hurt deep enough that trusting seems more foolish than wise.

But He’s so beyond all our excuses and our hangups. He’s so much bigger than our fears. He takes our everyday moments and uses them to speak to our hearts in a way that we can’t help but hear.

He leans in to us.

He reaches out to us.

He bends down and pulls the cover up over all our insecurities and fears. He whispers words of love. And by leaning in to us, he breathes life into us.

That’s why he wants us to lean into Him. He wants us to hear those whispers. Those just barely audible moments when something incredible is said. done. created.

In us. to us. through us.

The same way our children find comfort when we lean in to them, we can find comfort as we learn to lean in to Him.

Maybe He’s got something he wants to share with you and all you need to do to hear Him is shift your body a bit closer and…lean in. 

“For anyone out there who doesn’t know where you’re going,

anyone groping in the dark, Here’s what: Trust in God.  Lean on your God!”

Isaiah 50:10

The other day I was enjoying a long bike ride. I headed out not really sure where I was headed.  I just knew I had to get out of town and into some woods where I could breathe some fresh air. Where my thoughts could get lost in the song of a bird sweetly chirping. It was as if my soul was calling out to me to connect to something bigger. Something pure.

Somewhere around the 5 mile point I realized I would eventually have to either turn around and follow the same route I had taken to get there, or, I would have to forge ahed and find my way back home. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to forge ahead. I didn’t want to take the same old boring path I had just come from. After all, I had seen it all already. I wanted the new and fresh path. The one with all the possibilites. The one that was yet unexplored.

But then a very subtle and yet familiar feeling came creeping into my mind. Fear. It whispered in my ear that it would just be easier to turn around. “Go the way you already know”it whispered. “What if it’s too hard this way?” “Too long?”

I decided to forge ahead. And as I crossed the road and pedaled my bike into the woods waiting for me I turned to see a deer standing perfectly still, staring at me. I slowed down and then stopped, staring back at it. Taking in the beauty and the wonder of the moment. We held our gaze for a while before the deer turned slowly, showed me his fluffy white tail, and bounded off down the hill.

And in that brief moment I realized that I would’ve never had that “moment” had I not chosen to forge ahead.

Life is like that too.

There’s times when the path ahead is unknown. Or perhaps it’s a rough, overgrown path. Maybe even one that requires us to get off our bikes and do some “pruning” before we can hop back on and make it through. But God has “moments” waiting for us when we choose to forge ahead. He has encouragement and hope just beyond the bend. There are blessings and answers to our prayers that lie ahead, along the path.

 The Road Not Taken

by:Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I love this poem. It captures such deep emotions. And although I am no poet, I can’t help but think he got just one little thing wrong in it. It’s not really the “road” itself that makes all the difference…it’s who you choose to “walk with” that makes the real difference.

Don’t let fear cause you to turn back. Don’t go back the way you came from. Have the faith to take the path in front of you, regardless of how it looks. Knowing that no matter what it holds, you won’t be walking it alone.

Hebrew 10:39 “But we are not those who turn back and are lost. We are people who have faith and are saved.”

I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately. I have a lot to get done in what seems like a short amount of time and I’m….Well, I’m tired. I feel the question from a girlfriend running around in my head. Do you ever feel like you’re doing a million different things but you’re not really doing any of them really well? My answer is “Yes.” My answer is “Often times I feel like that.”

But I want to do them ALL and I want to do them all REALLY WELL. And my guess is you want to do it all and really well too! I want to be SUPER mom, SUPER wife, SUPER pastor’s wife, SUPER employee, SUPER cook, SUPER writer, SUPER decorator, SUPER stylish….you get the idea. The problem is when I start trying to be SUPER at all these things, I end up being SUPER at none of them.

I have so many things to do. So little time. And yet I made the decision to find a quiet place, to sit down with my bible and journal and just be…until God refreshes me. Because I’m burned out. And the first thing that comes to mind when I speak those words is this scripture. Matthew 11:28-30 “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.”

And as I allow these words to work themselves out in my life I realize that the heavy and ill-fitting things that I have been walking around in, the ones that are making me so tired, they weren’t put there by Him. I put them on myself.

Tomorrow is good Friday. My son asked me the other day, “Mom, why is good Friday called “good?” There’s not really anything good about it, it’s more like sad Friday.” And after we talked a bit we both came to the conclusion that it’s not “good” like when we use the term “I had a good day.” That means that everything went smoothly, it was nice, maybe even fun. But Jesus dying on the cross for our sins is “GOOD”. It’s good- FOR US.  It’s all in who the good is directed towards. And the good of the cross is directed toward Mankind. Towards me. Towards you. His last and final work on the cross was to sacrifice a perfect life for, well, for me. A sinner. And when you think of it like that, the adjective good could be replaced with great, amazing, life-changing.

Christ died for me so that I can live freely and lightly. And if I’m spending too much time entangled with all of the ill-fitting things I have put on myself, I am robbing myself of the joy that comes in living freely and lightly. Living and learning the unforced rhythms of his grace.

With Easter around the corner the color green is springing up everywhere. It’s a symbol of “new growth.” Of something “new and fresh”. It also happens to be my favorite color. And you may be surprised to see how many times the word “green” appears in the Bible.  Romans 15:13 says, “Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!”

Ah. That’s exactly what I need. Life-giving energy that comes from the Holy Spirit. I need his green hope. His hope that is fresh and new and full of life. I need to step back and simplify things. I need to decipher between the things in my life that are important and MOST important. And when I ask God what is MOST important for me, at this stage of my life, He answers in the way only He can. With a love and an understanding that is unique to me and my circumstances. And then I can learn to have the “real rest” that he talks about as I walk with him, in His unforced rhythms of grace.

Good Friday is good because we had to have that before we could have Easter. And Easter is the very definition of “green hope.”

This Easter season my prayer for you is that you would be aware of the green hope that is available to you. Whether for the first time ever, or just as a reminder again of all that Christ has done for you. That your heart would be open to hear what He wants to speak to you, and that you would live in the “green” freedom and rest that was given by the “red”shed blood on the cross. Happy Easter!

Unanxious and unintimidated.

These two words don’t necessarily describe me. I’d like them to. I’m working on it. I’m just not quite there yet.

I’ve spent far too much time feeling anxious. I hate even admitting that, but it’s the truth. My heart starts racing, sometimes my palms get a little sweaty. Thoughts start swirling around in my head and at times I begin to actually feel physically sick. A knot begins to form in my stomach. The skin around my neck and shoulder area gets all red and blotchy. Ugh. Just writing about it is making me feel anxious!

I’ve discovered over the years that Fear and Anxiousness seem to go hand in hand. They are like best friends that don’t part ways easily. Oh that Fear, she’s a tricky one. She seems to attract so many “friends.” She kind of reminds me of the mean girl in high school that stalked the halls with her posse (anxiousness & intimidation) lurking close behind. And you just knew if “she” (FEAR) wasn’t there that her group would fall apart because she was the glue that kept them all together.

I was working on something for our upcoming ladies’ conference at our church and was looking up scriptures about beauty. 1 Peter 3:3-5 has such great insight.

“What matters is not your outer appearance-the styling of your hair, the jewelry you wear, the cut of your clothes-but your inner disposition. Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle gracious kind that God delights in.”

This is such a great verse!  Probably one you’ve heard before too. But there’s more. I kept reading and it says this,

“The holy women of old were beautiful before God that way, and were good, loyal wives to their husbands. Sarah, for instance, taking care of Abraham, would adress him as “my dear husband.”

This brings a smile to my face because I can’t help but envision Aaron (my husband) sitting in a cushy chair as I stand tall and proper next to him, waiting to serve him with an “As you wish, my dear husband” response. (Insert fanning and feeding of grapes here.) Perhaps this would be as good a time as any to let you know that for several weeks during the height of our obsession with Downton Abbey we would refer to each other as “milady” and “milord.” “I’m heading to bed honey, you coming?” “Yes, milord.”

It says that the holy women of old were beautiful before God that way. In what way? They were good, loyal wives. I want to be beautiful before God in that same way. Now obviously this doesn’t mean we have to address our husbands with “yes, my dear husband” all the time. Let’s face it. Some of us could just stand to work on not yelling out a list of needs the minute he walks in the door. So, addressing him with “yes, my dear husband” may cause him to fall over with a heart attack. But what it does mean is that we can show our “beauty” simply by being good and loyal wives. Maybe we could stand to work on greeting our husband with a hug and kiss when he walks through the door. Maybe we need to get a reign on our tongue and just refrain from complaining and criticizing. God says that’s what’s beautiful! I was reading part of a blessing prayer for women by John Piper and his prayer was this, “That, if you are married, you creatively and intelligently and sincerely support and respect your husband as deeply as obedience to Christ will allow…that you influence him spiritually primarily through your fearless tranquility and holiness and prayer.”

If we want to have a spiritual influence through our fearless tranquility then we have to say goodbye to fear. Goodbye to anxiousness, to intimidation. Verse 6 says this,

“You’ll be true daughters of Sarah if you do the same, unanxious and unintimidated.”

As we cultivate our inner beauty, the gentle gracious kind that God delights in, the anxiousness and intimidation that threatens to weigh us down, will gently slip off of us. As we cultivate our inner beauty we will be gifted with the courage & confidence that comes in knowing to whom we belong.

Father I pray that today you would show us how to creatively, intelligently and sincerely support and respect our spouses. That you would cause us to be the true daughters of Sarah that you have called us to be…unanxious….unintimidated…FEARLESS!

Unaware

Of your steadfastness

In the midst of my circumstances

my selfishness

my humaness.

Your strong and gentle arms carry me through

Unaware

Of the limitless characteristics you possess

you provide

you impart

you ARE

In a fluid movement you reach out

to where I am

And all that I was

gets lost in who you are

undone in all you are

Restoring

Freeing

Trustworthy

Creative

Powerful

Forgiving

Protecting

farther reaching than even these

for I am unaware

Jeremiah 29:4-14

Yesterday morning the sunrise was amazing. My daughter noticed it right away and brought it to my attention. We tiptoed to the living room to look out the front window at the breathtaking display of orange, yellow, purple, blue and red that had painted itself against the sky. It was beautiful. We sat in silence for a minute, just her and I, taking it all in. I looked down at her, still just staring off into the distance. And then she  turned and uttered a few thoughts that I have been wrestling with ever since.

“I suppose the baddest thing EVER would be if a mommy & a daddy were just not right for each other anymore.”

It took me a moment to catch my breath. I looked at her sweet little face as I gathered my thoughts.

“Oh honey,” I said. “Mommy and daddy are always gonna stay together, we love each other a lot.” She looked semi-convinced.

“Yeah, mommy, I know. But some people just aren’t right for each other anymore and they have to break up.”

What? How has this thought crept its way into her mind?

We continued to have a conversation about “break ups” or the word she was really struggling to define, but didn’t even know it, divorce.

And as we talked, my heart was a little heavy. Heavy because in a sense, a bit of her innocence had been lost. Heavy because of the wording she used. Just not right for each other anymore.

I’m not writing this to condemn divorce. I believe, biblically speaking, that there are situations where divorce is a viable option for some. What makes my heart so heavy is what I believe is revealed behind the thought “we just aren’t right for each other anymore.” A lack of commitment. Which, I believe, stems from selfishness.

We live in an age where our word, our commitments seem to mean less and less. We have this mentality that if things get tough, then we have the “right” to get out of it. We want things to be easy. We want them to be comfortable. We’re a bit selfish.

And I have to tell you that I struggle with this in my own life. Selfishness. It rears it’s ugly head in my parenting more often than I’d like to admit. Sometimes in my relationships. With my husband and with my friends…sometimes I’m selfish. My personal time. I’m often selfish with that.

But what the conversation with my daughter reminded me of is this: think sunrise. The morning. The new beginning. The fresh start. I can make the decision each day to stick with my commitments and to be less selfish.

1 Samuel chapter 2 says, “He rekindles burned out lives with fresh hope.”
His mercies are new every morning as Lamentations chapter 3 says.

 Psalm 32 says this,

Count yourself lucky, how happy you must be—
you get a fresh start,
your slate’s wiped clean.

Like most moms, I have spent this weekend loving on my kids a little more. Their sweet little faces have been cradled in my hands and I just can’t stop the hugs and kisses from pouring out.

 I went upstairs last night to tuck in my oldest son. The lights were out and I was trying to contain the emotions that were bubbling at the surface. My son asked me, “Mommy, did you just get out of the shower? Your face is all wet.” And suddenly the tears that I had been trying so hard to keep at bay came rushing out.  I shared with him the tragic events that took place in Connecticut on Friday morning. I tried to explain it in a way that a 9-year old mind could comprehend. But I found the task daunting as my own 35-year old mind struggles to make sense of it all.

He had some questions and he also had some fears. I spent a little longer than usual on “tuck in time” this particular night. Tickling his back. Thanking God for his life. And then choking back tears as a picture of one of the little boys whose life was taken flashed through my mind.

I was getting ready for church this morning and I turned the news on for a bit. The nightmare that played itself out in real life came crashing into my home, into my heart again.

So it was that I found my heart heavy and weary, much like my physical body, as I lumbered my way into church this morning. I was feeling overwhelmed by the sadness, the darkness, the loss.

But somewhere between a hug from one of my 3rd grade girls and the beginning of our kid’s worship service, my heart began to swell with an emotion that had been hiding out for the last two days. Hope.

The kids started worshipping God. They were singing, laughing, jumping. And the joy on their faces started to match the hope in my heart. The upbeat song turned to a slower one and their little heads began to bow. All around the room their small hands started popping up, raised high in the air. And it struck me so hard, so fast that it nearly took my breath away. For a moment I was overcome with such a deep and amazing sense of hope that it quite honestly seemed to fly in the face of reason. But hope, true hope, the kind we find in the finished work of Christ on the cross, does exactly that. It flies in the face of reason. Even amidst terrible tragedy and senseless loss, in our darkest hour, in God, there is hope.

John 1:1-5 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ² He was with God in the beginning. ³ Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. ⁴ In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. ⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

As I was watching the kids worship God I was struck with a determination to do my part to be a light in this world. I was determined to encourage these kids to be a light in their homes, in their schools and in their communities. Because after all the discussions have been had regarding gun control, mental illness and school security measures, there will still be one factor that remains. We live in a broken world. A fallen world. Darkness. And the only way to fight darkness is with light.

In the days and weeks that come my heart & prayers will be with those families, friends and community that lost so much. I will be praying that the Holy Spirit would comfort them as only he can. I will be praying for our nation & our leaders that God would inspire them with divine wisdom. But I will also do my part, in my own little sliver of this world, to let my light shine. I will realize the importance of my role. I will take some responsibility for the lives that I come in contact with. I will encourage my own children, yes, but I will also encourage my neighbor kids, the lives at the preschool where I work, the quiet little girl who comes to kids church and sits in the back by herself. I will do my best to show them how to let their light shine.

The kids sing a song in kid’s church with some pretty powerful lyrics. You should hear them belt out “Let Your Light Shine.” They sing with such passion and trust. Sometimes we as adults can learn more in a few minutes of worshipping with kids than we can over hours worth of “grown up” discussions. Today was one of those days for me.

Let Your Light Shine

My heart is heavy. A friend is going through a great loss and it’s one that I’ve experienced myself before. Although it’s been 9 years since it happened, I find myself reliving that experience again. The day I learned that the baby I was carrying inside me no longer had life. The dreams and plans I had made for us as a family shriveling up and dying quicker than they had first arrived. Suddenly, and without warning, I was no longer a “mom.”  And the very core of my being felt hollow, lifeless like the baby inside me.

And so my heart is heavy right now for my friend. A friend who has just begun her journey of grief. Because I know there will probably be some moments of anger. Anger at God. Anger at those around her. Anger at the situation. There will probably also be moments when the hurt & pain seem so deep that she will literally ache for the child she never got to hold. There will be moments when she wonders why God would allow this to happen. Why someone who has loved and served Him and sacrificed for Him would have to endure something so heart wrenching.

But what she doesn’t know yet is that there will come a time, in her future, when the very remembrance of that life lost will stir up within her sweet memories of God’s amazing grace. That that there will come a time when remembering will be accompanied with it a deep, strong abiding sense of His faithfulness.

What she will discover is that God is not offended by our anger, our questions or even our indifference toward Him. He is not unable to handle our heartache. There is not a worry or fear too big for Him. What she will discover, as she continues to walk out her grief journey is that her ability to see God in a new way will be a direct result of her vantage point. That because of where she’s standing, she will see different facets of God’s character. And anytime we are guests to His hand at work in our lives our posture can be nothing but that of gratitude.

What I wish I could tell her, but I can’t, is that it’s going to be easy. Or quick. It will be neither of those. But the process and the journey, when she is on the other side looking back, will be the part that she holds dearest in heart. Because in that journey will come the sweet moments of God’s grace that will touch her soul like nothing else can. The journey will be marked by His loving kindness on display through individuals and situations that are uniquely orchestrated for her.

What I can tell her is that she can walk in the security and knowledge that God will go through it with her. What I can remind her of is His promise in Psalm 34:18.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” The Message version says, “If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.”

And what a promise this is! For any and all of us today who find ourselves brokenhearted, God is right there. He is near to you. He is near to me. He will help us catch our breath.

So to my dear friend, I would tell you today to be honest and be real. Wrestle with it. Because you serve a God who desires, above all else, to have a personal and real relationship with you. Wrestling makes it personal.

And let his healing love cover you like a blanket…

“Quiet as warmth that comes from the sun, silent as dew during harvest.” (Isaiah 18:5)

Favor. It’s a word we don’t really use a lot in today’s society. But it’s something I’ve been praying for lately. The favor of God that is. I’m finishing up a book by Mark Batterson entitled “Circle Maker.” In it the author refers to the favor of God as “God doing something for you that you cannot do for yourself.” I want that. I want God working on my behalf to grant me favor in my family, in my marriage and in my community. I want his favor to rest on Cornerstone Church that we may continue to touch our town for God’s glory. I want Him to do something that I cannot do for myself. I want his favor.

I’ve been circling promises regarding God’s favor recently. I’ve been praying them over myself and my family and my church family. But, as I was searching scripture, I found an incredible promise.

Proverbs 18:22 says this, “Find a good spouse, you find a good life-and even more: the favor of God.”

What an incredible verse. I really wasn’t expecting to stumble upon that one. In fact, I had to re-read it to make sure it said what I thought it did. And as I was praying through that verse I felt God whisper to me. Here I was praying for the favor of God because I believe it’s such an incredible and powerful gift BUT…and this is where God just kinda tucked this truth into my heart- I can actually “be” that favor for my husband by being a great spouse. That’s a little mind blowing to me.

Another definition for favor is having an advantage; a benefit. I want to be that for my husband. I want him to regard me as a benefit and an advantage to him and to his calling as a pastor. I don’t want to be a whiner, a complainer or a wife that’s hard to live with. Although, admittedly there are times when I resemble this far more than the “favor” I am asking to be.

Proverbs 21:9 says this, “It’s better to live alone in a tumbledown shack than share a mansion with a nagging spouse.”

Those are tough words. I don’t want to be a nag, I want to be a support. Another definition of favor is this: to make easier or more possible; to facilitate. That’s what I want, what I desire. I want to make things easier for my husband, to link arms with him and work alongside him to help make his God given dreams come true; to be a facilitator.

Here’s a few of my favorite verses regarding God’s favor.

“You have granted me life and FAVOR and Your care has preserved my spirit.” Job 10:12

“For you, O Lord, will bless the righteous; with FAVOR You will surround him as with a shield.” Psalm 5:12

“For His anger is but for a moment, His FAVOR is for life.” Psalm 30:5

“Generous to a fault you lavish your FAVOR on all creatures.” Psalm 145:16

There are so many amazing promises in the Bible about His favor! As you go through your day today know this: God desires to cover your life with His favor. All we have to do is ask Him for it. And if you’re married then you have an amazing opportunity today- You can be the favor of God for your spouse! By being a good spouse we can be the benefit, the advantage and ultimately the blessing that we are called to be. May the “favor of him who dwelt in the burning bush” (Deuteronomy 33:16) be upon you today.

I’ve been reading the book [easyazon-link asin=”0310333024″]The Circle Maker[/easyazon-link]by Mark Batterson lately. In it he shares a saying that’s been passed down in his family for generations and it goes something like this “You can’t never always sometimes tell.”  Translated it essentially means this: Anything could happen. And when applied to our prayer life this phrase holds a holy expectation that God can at any time, in any way, show up and do the unexpected.

When’s the last time you felt like that? When you felt like anything could happen at any moment.That the dream you’ve been holding onto for years could come true at any moment.  That the prayer that you’ve been praying for decades is on the verge of being answered? I don’t know about you, but it’s been too long since I’ve prayed with that kind of true expectancy accompanying it.

There is both power and surprise in prayer. When you circle a promise in prayer, then anything can happen. The “surprise”here is not one that jumps out at us & shocks us because we don’t believe it will happen. The surprise lies in the fact that we have no idea where or how God is going to do it. The shock factor is in the revelation of just how amazing and creative God gets in his answers. And I think for many of us, the element of “surprise” is what’s missing in our prayers. We believe He can but do we believe He will? Our anticipation for the answered prayer, the miracle we’re waiting for, is greatly lacking.

One of the reasons I believe our anticipation wanes is the fact that we seem to take our every day miracles for granted. Or, as Mark Batterson likes to call them, our “manna miracles.”  The kind that happen day in and day out. The kind that seem to lose their “luster” in our eyes because we’ve become too accustomed to them. Take the Israelites for example. What a sorry bunch! Here God was providing a miracle, causing manna to fall out of the sky for them to eat each and every day. And instead of thanking God for the miracle they had, they were busy complaining about something else they wanted. You would think the Israelites would have been happy with whatever food there was to eat considering the fact they were no longer slaves. They were finally free!  And yet instead, In Exodus chapter 16 we find them very dissatisfied. Verse 2 says, “The whole company of Israel complained against Moses and Aaron there in the wilderness. The Israelites said, “Why didn’t God let us die in comfort in Egypt where we had lamb stew and all the bread we could eat? You’ve brought us out into this wilderness to starve us to death, the whole company of Israel!”

Wow.  They had just been set free from the tyranny of the Egyptians, no longer being beaten or made to work grueling hours in horrible conditions and all they could think of was their stomachs? In Numbers 11:4-6 it says this, “The riffraff among the people had a craving and soon they had the People of Israel whining, “Why can’t we have meat? We ate fish in Egypt—and got it free!—to say nothing of the cucumbers and melons, the leeks and onions and garlic. But nothing tastes good out here; all we get is manna, manna, manna.” They sound like a 2-year-old taking a fit! And like most toddlers who are taken to fits, they were focused only on themselves and their wants. Daily living had taken it’s toll and their focus had shifted inward, onto themselves. They needed a fresh perspective.

And that’s exactly what happens to us at times. We read the story of the Israelites complaining and we’re a little amazed at how ungrateful they are. But really, don’t we do the same thing?  Don’t we sometimes turn a blind eye to all the blessings we have only to focus on the one thing we don’t? Doesn’t the daily grind sometimes take its toll on us and slowly but surely our focus begins to shift inward. We start looking to our own interests instead of the interest of others. And when we’re focused inward we can’t see the miracles that God is doing all around us. We miss out on all that God’s up to.

The best thing for us to do when we find ourselves in this place is dig in to His word and the promises He has made. In prayer ourperspective gets an overhaul. Matthew 6:6 is one of my favorite scriptures. It says, “Here’s what I want you to do: Find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace.” I love this verse because it’s a promise we can circle. He promises us that when we get before God and come just as we are we can be assured that our focus will shift off of ourselves and onto God. Talk about a “manna miracle”. And what comes next? He promises we will begin to sense his grace. And His grace has the ability to grow in us an excitement, a holy anticipation for all the promises we have yet to claim. Prayer can add the element of surprise to our lives that we all seek. And when we begin to pray expectantly to God (a God who Ephesians 3:20 tells us is able to immeasurably more than we could ever ask or think!!) well…you know, You Can’t Never Always Sometimes Tell!

Just gave myself a “time out” from my middle child. My adorable, high energy, too smart for his own britches, strong willed child.  As I’m writing this the tears are falling onto my laptop because, well, I just can’t seem to stop them today.

Parenting is the toughest job you’ll ever have. That’s what everyone always says. What they don’t say is that by “toughest” they mean the most exhausting and exhilarating job you’ll ever have.  And usually both at the same time. They don’t say that you’ll learn more about yourself than you ever really cared to. But you will. Because truth be told, one of the things that makes parenting so hard is the ability it has to expose us as parents. The ability to bring to light our own areas of weakness, our own selfish motives, our own bad attitudes.

When I’m disciplining my son for a shortcoming I see in his behavior or character and I sense a check in my spirit that it’s something I still need to work on myself, I become exposed. When we’re working on anger issues with our children and we find ourselves wanting to punch something hard or scream with frustration, we are exposed. When we’re helping our children learn about forgiveness and we are reminded of someone we need to forgive, again, exposed.

And sometimes being exposed ourselves, in the midst of everything else life is throwing at us, feels a bit overwhelming. But we have this promise, this hope.

“God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning! How great your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22

I am so thankful for fresh starts, new beginnings, even if it’s just the beginning of a new day.  Sometimes all we need is just the knowledge that we get to start again “fresh” tomorrow.

Psalm 51:10 “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”

I am thankful that I serve a God who can cleanse my heart & set me right again, can renew a right spirit within me. As quickly as I ask, he can answer.

[easyazon-image-link asin=”B001J1O8C0″ alt=”Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (1932)” src=”http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51adVjBYGfL.jpg” align=”left” width=”360″ height=”500″]And I have to guess that my kids are probably just as happy about getting “fresh starts” as I am. Because our kids are human too, and so they have their “off” days like the rest of us. The great thing about kids is their ability to bounce back. They can have a really pretty rotten day and then the next morning wake up all sweet and obedient.  And though at times I refer to this as their “Jekyll & Hyde” syndrome, most days I wish I was more like that.  Able to just let go of the past and ready to move on and embrace the future, with nothing weighing me down.  So, as I journey on in my parenting I find that my kids are constantly teaching me something. Funny, because I thought I was the one who was supposed to be teaching them. But I guess the truth is, we’re teaching each other.  It’s a learning process that oscillates between child and parent.

And ultimately, my goal is to give them the tools that I use myself when I am in need of a time out. I want to show them scriptures like the ones mentioned earlier. To explain the promises, the hope, the power we have in Christ. I want them to know, in the very depths of their souls, that God’s love couldn’t have run out on them, that his merciful love couldn’t have dried up. Because he is faithful, and his mercies are new every morning!

The other day at the lake I lost something really valuable.  Something that kind of makes me ache inside to even think about.  In reality it happened in a matter of seconds but in my mind it was like being stuck in slow motion.  I was trying to will myself to catch the ring before it hit the top of the waves and sank to the bottom of the lake.

It took up residence on the ring finger of my right hand over  12 years ago.  I still have vivid memories of the night my husband gave me the ring.
We laugh about it now because there was a “disclaimer” of sorts before giving it to me. He wanted me to know that it was NOT an engagement ring. I thought that point had been rather driven home.  It had been his mother’s ring.  She had worn it.  I had worn it.  And I had hoped that perhaps my daughter would one day wear it as well. It had been a part of a set, a matching ring to the one his dad had worn and my husband himself still wears.  But now this symbol of love, this symbol of commitment & family…it sits on the bottom of a lake in Iowa.

I thought telling my husband was going to be hard.  He was the one after all, who was always telling me I should take my rings off before swimming.  And I was the one never listening.  But he took it really well.  Much better in fact, than I would have had I been in his position.  Although his first words were still, “That’s why it’s always a good idea to take your rings off before swimming.”  After feeling for the ring on my finger more than a dozen times yesterday, and coming up empty every time, I finally just broke down crying in the car. I felt so terrible. To have lost such a valuable item, something that meant so much to him especially after losing his dad several years ago, it made me ache with regret.  And true to his character, my husband looked straight at me and said what any wife in my situation would long to hear.  He said, ” I don’t need that ring. I don’t need anything. All I really need is YOU.”  It was exactly what I needed to hear.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night.  I had been dreaming I’d lost something important. And then I realized the awful truth all over again.  And as I was lying awake in bed replaying the moment again, wishing I hadn’t tossed that raft to my son Levi, wishing it hadn’t flown off my finger into the deep as I did so, wishing I had just taken it off to begin with, I began to think of the words my husband said.  And it was like God whispered to my heart, “That’s how I feel too.”  All I REALLY need is you.

He doesn’t need me plus my striving. He doesn’t need me plus my talents. He really just needs me.  Because when I give myself to him, when I surrender it all, then He has all he needs. And lying in bed last night the Holy Spirit reminded me again of his grace.  His amazing, undeserved, all encompassing grace.  All He really needs is me. Not the “me” I wish I was. Not the “me” I want people to believe I am.  Not even the “me” I am yet to be.  Just simply me. Just simply you. Maybe today that’s exactly what you need to hear. The vacant spot on my finger will be my reminder.

Most of us have played the game before.  Pretty basic idea.  One person counts while the rest hide and when the counter gets to 10…well, “ready or not!”  When my daughter first started playing this game she would hide in the same place over & over again.  She would run into her dad’s closet and slam the door behind her, giggling the whole time.

After a few rounds of her hiding in the exact same spot my oldest became frustrated.  “This really isn’t very fun mom, I know exactly where she is!” he said. So, I encouraged her to try a new hiding spot. But, she thought she had stumbled upon something pretty great and she wasn’t about to give it up to try and find a new spot.  And so, my oldest continued the game of pretending he didn’t know where she was hiding.

Recently, I was struggling with some things that had me playing my own grown-up version of the game with God.  I had my favorite “hiding spot” and I was camping out, hoping he wouldn’t find me.  Of course that’s as silly as my daughter believing that her brother didn’t know where she was hiding. But, I was letting myself believe that He couldn’t see all the ugly that I was trying so hard to hide.  Truth be told, I thought I had found the perfect hiding spot. And God was probably thinking the same thing as my oldest son. “This really isn’t very fun, I know exactly where you are!”

Have you ever come to a point where you realize the “ugly & messy” that you need to deal with is gonna take some time and some serious effort on your part?  I could feel the depth of it and I knew it was something that had been growing over the years.  Something that wasn’t gonna just be plucked out of my life with a simple prayer.  It was something that was going to need some uprooting, some tilling & some cultivating. And that’s always hard….it’s usually messy…and it’s definitely not fun.  And so I was kind of stuck in “hide out” mode, hoping I could just ignore it and go on with things.  But, the faithful seeker that He is, he kept looking.  And in that gentle & quiet way that He loves to speak, he dropped some questions into my heart. “Why are you hiding this from me?” “Is it really any easier trying to hide it than it would be to trust me with it, to talk to me about it, and to let me help you with it?”

He wasn’t walking around trying to figure out where I was.

He was trying to figure out why I was trying to hide something that He could see.

I think we do this a lot in our lives. We have things that we’re ashamed of or we feel guilty about. Areas where we’re still in the learning process & haven’t quite mastered yet.  And it seems many times our first instinct is to head straight to the closet, slam the door and hide out.  But, “ready or not, here He comes”…to remind us that He’s great at “messy”.  To remind us that he’s got a great track record of taking the “painfully difficult” and making it bearable.  To teach us that to wrestle with it is part of the process.  And maybe, even to tell us that in the midst of our ugliness, He sees something beautiful in us. So, if you’re working through something that’s kinda messy or kinda ugly, know that He already sees it & He loves you regardless.  Don’t bother with the hide & seek games, He’s standing right beside you.

Acts 17:24 “Starting from scratch, he made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find him.  He doesn’t play hide-and-seek with us. He’s not remote; he’s near.  We live and move in him, can’t get away from him!”

It’s that time of year again.  The leaves have turned & with them the temperatures, signaling a time to once again reflect and give thanks. The weather has changed & with it so have we.  Instead of going outside & enjoying our time outdoors we start to retreat inside to our warm, cozy houses. And kind of parallel to nature, our hearts start retreating as well.  Nights are darker earlier & we find ourselves with a little more time to sit in our favorite spot in the house &  enjoy the quiet.  Time in solitude is naturally conducive to reflection. And so, we find ourselves thinking back over the past year and all of the “mountain tops” & “valleys” we’ve experienced along the way.  For some this year has been their hardest yet.  This past year has held deep hurts & longings unfulfilled.  There are those who have lost loved ones this past year and the pain is still raw.  For still others the past year has been filled with hope & restoration, perhaps even new beginnings. But no matter which of these you find yourself identifying with, this one thing is true for all of us:  “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.”  Psalms 136:1

We have this hope.  Whether we are in a place where we can actually “feel” that way or not is entirely separate from the FACT that it is true.  We serve a God who is good & who is steadfast: fixed in intensity or direction; unswerving devotion; marked by firm determination or resolution. These are words that descirbe his love for us, love that endures forever!  If there were ever anything to give thanks for, this is it. So, whether you find yourself today trudging through a valley or enjoying that amazing mountaintop view, his steadfast love is there with you.

I watched a movie last night, kind of a new favorite of mine.  It’s called An Old Fashioned Thanksgiving and it’s based off of the book by Louisa May Alcott. Such a great movie, especially this time of year.  It’s a great reminder that the basics, like love and family, are the things that matter most.  The beginning of the book starts like this: “They were poor in money, but rich in land and love, for the wide acres of wood, corn and pasture land fed, warmed, and clothed the flock, while mutual patience, affection, and courage made the old farm-house a very happy home.”  May this Thanksgiving be one where God reminds us again of his steadfast love.