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.

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.

Good-bye sweet girl.

These are the words that were silently spoken by my heart this morning as I watched my daughter leave for school.

I stood there, from our front door, watching her walk away.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.  The chilly air kissed my face and my bare feet were planted on the cold, wet concrete steps.  My heart felt like it was stuck in my throat and tears, like prisoners, tried escaping down my cheek.  All at once it felt like a decade had passed me by in the blink of an eye.

Today my baby is 10.

I remember the days, they don’t seem all that long ago now, when I would find myself dreaming of a time when my kids would be more independent.  I remember anticipating the days where all three of my children would be able to feed themselves, get dressed on their own, and do basic hygiene without any help from their mama.  And I realize, a little despairingly now, that my dreams have come true.

Looking at her I see both the little girl she still is and the young woman she’s becoming.  She’s caught in between two worlds right now, balancing them as best she can.  There are times when she laughs and her single side dimple takes center stage and a rush of images of her as a toddler comes sweeping over me.  She had the craziest curly hair that was somewhat unruly, usually finding its way out of her clip or pony and falling promptly over eyes.  At one point her nose actually turned orange due to all the orange colored fruits and vegetables she consumed, which only added to her wild look.  She has always been my brave, spirited, eclectic old soul.

I remember holding her for the very first time, soaking in all of her delicate features, inhaling the sweet scent of newborn, and feeling like our family was finally complete.  I remember when the doctor announced it was a girl, I turned to Aaron and asked him if it was true, as if somehow needing him to verify it.  He nodded his head at me, a gentle smile forming and tears beginning to well up in his eyes and I jut came undone.  It felt like the journey we had been on to create our family, to carve out our own little tribe in this world, was somehow finally complete.

The only thing that keeps this mama heart from snatching all three of my kiddos up and trying to defy time by keeping them with me for ALL OF THE DAYS, is the richness these past years have brought with them.  Each stage, each season, has had its own unique challenges, yes, but also its own rewards.  We are currently in a season where all of my children are developing their own sense of humor.  These children of mine are actually quite funny!!! For someone who values laughter as much as I do, I consider this our new sweet spot.  The highlight of the last two weeks for my husband and I has been a series we now refer to as: The Swimming Saga, where my oldest recounts interesting and hilarious highlights from his swimming class.  He’s got a whole bit on it and it’s hilarious.

So while the days of rocking my babies to sleep is behind me, I am working on learning to embrace this new season and all that it has to offer.  Watching my baby girl morph into a young woman is bittersweet.  There are moments that catch on my heart and cause me to unravel.  But honestly, I think that’s okay.  I think it’s a sign that we’re loving well.  So I will say good-bye to you each morning that you head out the door sweet girl and welcome all the days ahead.

So, I’m turning the big “40” here in a few days and while this milestone birthday can be a bit depressing for many, I find myself excited for this next decade and all that it will hold.  Honestly, turning 30 was kind of hard for me. And yet, as leery as I was heading into those years, some of my greatest personal growth occurred during that time. Here are a few things I have worked hard at in the last decade that have also enriched my life immensely.

1.)  Girlfriends that love fiercely.

One of the best things about being this age is that I’ve learned how to choose well when it comes to my friendships.  I’ve discovered that great friendships don’t just materialize, they are made.  It takes time and energy to form a deep and lasting friendship.  A friendship that’s worth anything to you has undoubtedly endured misunderstandings, hurt feelings and a few bumps and bruises along the way.  But that’s what makes them so valuable.  You’ve invested your time and a decent amount of work into the relationship.  You’ve taken risks and have shared vulnerable moments together.  If it’s a truly deep friendship you have probably had to lovingly correct, ask for forgiveness and possibly even work through moments of jealousy. But strong, healthy friendships go there.  They do the hard, deep work because they know the reward is worth it.  These friendships, the ones that love fiercely, that go the extra mile and are committed to digging in and doing the hard work when life calls for it, these are amongst the sweetest gifts God gives.

I think one of the reasons that friendships can be so incredible at this age is that most of us have figured out who we are and who we want to surround ourselves with.  We have settled into our lives and are more confident and comfortable with who we are which often time allows us to be a kinder, more gentler version of ourselves.  I also think we’ve learned that it’s not only okay but also pretty normal to have only a few really close friends.  We just don’t have the time and energy to be everyone’s best friend and we’ve realized that it’s okay.  We’ve given ourselves permission to cultivate the relationships we’ve chosen. We have discovered that it is our choice who we decide to let into our inner circle.  We have the right to choose who we let our guard down with, are completely honest and vulnerable with, and allow to speak over and into our lives.  These kind of friendships are also usually pretty rare so when we find ourselves gifted with them, we recognize their true value.

2.) The ability to say NO.

This is an area that I’m still perfecting but have made great progress in. What is it about being a woman that makes it so hard for us to say no to things? We say “yes” all day long in attempt to make everyone happy and yet often times, at the end of the day we are the very ones who are unhappy. Unhappy because we haven’t done a single thing for ourselves the entire day. It’s amazing to me how discovering the importance of taking just a few minutes a day, every day, to do something that feeds you, can be such a benefit to not only you but your entire family.  Reading a magazine or a book, taking a hot bath, exercising, taking a short nap, whatever it is that will feed you that day, take 20 minutes and do it!  When I was housebound for years with my three little kiddos, ages 3 and under, I would hand them off to their father (Here, take YOUR children honey) the minute he walked through the door and I would GET THE MAIL.  Seriously.  I would walk to the end of the driveway, alone, no littles hanging off of me or clinging to my knee, and I would get the mail.  I must’ve had baby brain to have not picked something a little more exciting, but it was my lifeline.  Sometimes I would find myself circling the block before coming back inside. Of course there were the occasional longer lap days and one day in particular where I walked for 3+ miles contemplating whether there would even be a return trip.  We laugh about my mail breaks to this day but honestly, there were days when that 5 minute break made all the difference.

I think it’s important to note that there will be seasons in our life when we are able to “yes” to more and also seasons where “no” will be our wiser answer. One of the best books I’ve read regarding this is Lysa TerKeurst’s book, “The Best Yes.” In it, she talks about making wise decisions in the midst of our endless demands. I think the key word here is wise. It’s really important for us as women to know what our priorities are and learn to start there with our time and our “yes.” From there, depending on how much we have left to give, we can fill in. When we start by saying yes to the things that are our non-negotiables or our core values, we give them first priority and they get the time and attention they deserve. We will have to learn how to say no to perfectly good things if we have any hope of saying yes to the best things for us.

3.)  A husband who is a best friend.

I don’t think I really understood this concept when my husband and I were first dating.  I mean sure, I knew I wanted my future husband to be my friend but I didn’t really understand the depth that our friendship would reach.  A husband/wife relationship is so unique because it encompasses so much.  I have no other relationship that combines the role of friend, lover and co-parent.  We both know the importance of putting each other first, remembering we were first a couple before we became a family, and yet we also climb into bed with each other every. single. night. So there’s a very real struggle against the monotony of it all.  Which is why I love that after all these years, 17 in August, he is still my very favorite person in the whole world.  He is the one I always want to spend time with because he’s not just my husband, he’s my best friend.

I remember when I was a young girl thinking about the characteristics I wanted most in a future husband.  My top two were that I wanted him to be my best friend and I wanted somebody who likes to laugh.  If you know me, you know how really true this is.  I love to laugh!!! I have an obnoxious snort that sometimes escapes when I’m laughing and has kind of become my signature trait over the years.  If you get a snort from me, it essentially means that you are hilarious. If you know Aaron, you know that I got what I wished for with him.  He loves to laugh and is highly entertaining when telling stories.  His sarcastic humor is something I cannot get enough of!  I can’t tell you what a gift it has been over the years to have my best friend by my side, laughing through the ups and downs of life.  We have literally laughed our way through some of life’s hardest moments.  A good sense of humor trumps almost anything in my book and it seems the older I get the easier it is to laugh at not only my circumstances but also myself.  And this is something that comes with age as well I think.  The older you get, the easier it is to take yourself less seriously and learn to roll with whatever life throws at you.  I am so incredibly thankful to have a partner who values laughter as much as I do.

This friendship, even more so than with my girlfriends, has not just happened either.  It has taken hard work, tears, learning to communicate (honestly, still working on that one) and a sacrifice of self.  It has been a daily decision to remember the commitment that I made (to both God and to my husband) and then a living out of that commitment.  It hasn’t always been easy but it hasn’t always been hard either. The work that we have put into our marriage over the last 16+ years has yielded a great reward.  I get to do life and ministry with my best friend, and for this I feel incredibly blessed!

4.) Having a healthy body image.

Okay readers, this one probably took the most work and longest time to finally come by, but I did it!  It only took me almost 40 years, bahahaha.  I am such a quick learner.  Listen, before you start either hating me, fighting back jealous thoughts or just flat out suspecting me to be a liar, let me explain.  This does not mean, not even for a second, that I don’t have moments where I feel ugly, fat and downright unloveable.  I am a woman after all.  These thoughts still creep in from time to time.  What it does mean is this: I have a genuine appreciation of my body.  I am thankful for my health and a body that allows me to do the things I enjoy doing.   I am grateful to have the strength and energy to exercise, go on bike rides and hikes with my children and take my dog for a walk.

I have come to the conclusion that I will never be in as great of shape as I sometimes wish I could be because of this one simple fact: I love food.  Like, I just really enjoy food.  And over the years I’ve realized that for me,  good food > a perfect physique.  I basically work out so that I can eat and I’m totally okay with this.  I have also gotten to a point where I can look in a mirror and feel comfortable with the skin I’m in.  Those incisions across my lower abdomen remind me of the three lives I carried into this world.  The scar across my belly button and to the right of it, a reminder of God’s protection over me when my appendix burst.  The wrinkles and laugh lines, proof that I’ve savored countless happy moments with my people.

There will always be areas that we wish looked a bit differently. Perhaps a little fuller here, a little less full there.  Overall though, I am content and thankful for this body that God has given me.  Over the years the things that I once thought held such beauty have fallen away.  I used to think that a nicely toned bikini body was beautiful but now I can honestly say I don’t think there’s anything quite as beautiful as the smile that exudes from a woman who is confident in the love God has for her.

5.  The art of choosing celebration over comparison. 

Theodore Roosevelt got it right when he said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.”  It’s so true. And it seems to be an area that a lot of women struggle with.  I’ll admit, it’s been a struggle for me over the years.  In a world where we are critiqued and judged for the way we look, the decisions we make regarding our parenting, our health and even our finances, it can be hard not to compare.  But one thing I’ve learned over the years is the positive effect that celebrating others has had on me personally.    

When we make the decision to celebrate others, we are also making the decision to take the focus off of ourselves.  And honestly, this is where it starts.  When our focus is on us, we find ourselves looking inward and we tend to live very small, self-absorbed lives.  When we switch that focus outward though, we are able to embrace the beauty of a spacious life.  When we understand that there is room enough for all of us to flourish, that God in his infinite wisdom has shaped each of us with unique gifts and talents that are only magnified and multiplied when celebrated collectively, we can see the distinct advantage to exchanging our comparisons for celebrations.  So go ahead, start celebrating the wins that are all around you.  You’ll find that when your win comes, you’ll be surrounded by an even larger crowd of people cheering you on!

These are a few areas that I have worked hard at over the last several years and they have been such a source of comfort to me.  In many ways, these decisions and these relationships have made me who I am today.  I am so thankful for a God who is patient with me as I learn and grow and make mistakes along the way.  I’m thankful for my husband, my family and my friends who add so much to my life!  I am praying for all of us that as we make those hard but good decisions that God will bless our efforts and that he would be our constant companion through it all.

“Find rest, Oh my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation.” Psalm 62:5-7

“All you need is love.  All you need is love. All you need is love, love.  Love is all you need.”

The lyrics to the Beatles’ famous song play like a soundtrack in my mind.  A classic. It’s a catchy feel good song.  Each beat like an anthem declaring itself to my heart.

Everywhere I turn lately, it’s all I hear.  Love is the answer to everything.  We are love warriors and we have hashtags stating #loveisloveislove, Madonna even chanting it at the end of her speech at a recent women’s march. “We choose LOVE! We choose Love! We choose Love!!!!” She screams this into the very same microphone that only moments before amplified her thoughts of blowing up the White House.

And I wonder….Is this really all we need? Is this the love we need? If we just chant the word enough, or if we scream it loudly from a microphone, or maybe if we hashtag it to death, will something change then?  Will the word love be enough to heal our our broken hearts? our communities? our country?

It seems as though love has taken on a loftiness about it as of late.  Tenuous in nature, it is sweeping across our nation making unsubstantiated claims.  It has become an abstract, vaporous idea that invites people to adhere their own personal definitions to it.  Suddenly, love can be whatever you’d like it to be.  And while this idea presents itself as being inclusive and freeing, I believe it does us a disservice.  How can we all claim that love is the answer when our definition of love is so vastly different from one another?

It feels to me like the word love has taken on the properties of a chameleon, changing its definition to blend into its surroundings. 

Even in Christian circles, the word love has been touted to rally people together for a cause.  And sometimes, just for personal agenda.  It has lost its meaning in a world saturated with muddied definitions. Oh, don’t get me wrong, love is really all we need.  But perhaps a clearer understanding of the word is what is really needed.  Because there is only one love that can bring true freedom and healing.

The world’s greatest love story ever told is one that includes us.  John 3:16, “For God so loved the world…” It’s in the pages of this great love story where we discover what true love really is.

The Bible tells us that love is very patient & kind. Never jealous or envious, never boastful or proud.  Never haughty or selfish or rude. Love doesn’t demand its own way.  It’s not irritable or touchy.  It does not hold grudges and will hardly even notice when others do it wrong. It is never glad about injustice, but rejoices whenever truth wins out. (1 Corinthians 13)

The Biblical definition of love is not a formless fluidity that changes its shape and meaning on a whim.  Nor is it a self-serving idea that is used to manipulate people or things to our advantage. It is not something that if we just dig deep enough into ourselves that we can unearth and it’s not something that the universe is calling us to.

Love- true authentic love, the kind that can heal individual hearts and change the landscape of a nation is…

born of human flesh, torn and bruised for us. 

It is bloodied and beaten and given freely while we are yet sinners. 

It is weighty, substantial and concrete. 

It’s a love that we can depend on.  A strong, selfless, sacrificial love that comes from God, who is himself love.

1 John 4:7 says, “Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God.”  I love how the author here uses the words continue to love.  It’s a reminder to us that it’s an ongoing process. We must continue on in the love that He gives us as we extend it to those around us. Whether we agree or disagree, we must continue to love.  Whether we are experiencing warm fuzzies or cool indifference, our call is to love.  Whether it’s to our advantage or our disadvantage, our job is to continue on in love.  So how exactly are we supposed to do this?  We can’t. Not by ourselves and not in our own strength.

It’s only through him that we can love at all.  Love doesn’t come from just chanting words or holding hands or singing a song in solidarity.  Love comes from God alone.  “Everyone who loves is born of God and experiences a relationship with God.  The person who refuses to love doesn’t know the first thing about God, because God is love- so you can’t know him if you don’t love. This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only son into the world so that we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about-not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they’ve done to our relationship with God.” 1 John 4:8-10

Love is God and God is love. 

Perhaps a more fitting hashtag would be this: #loveisgodislove.

We crave love. We were designed by our Creator to crave love.  So when the word love is tossed out in a passionate speech, people cling to it like a life preserver.  We want to believe it will save us, that it will free us and that it will set everything right.   We hope and long for something like love to come along and pick up all the broken pieces and put them back together. We are desperate for love because we are desperate for God.

His love is the only love that can do all of that! His love saves, redeems, restores and frees.   It’s nothing we can muster up on our own. It’s not some lofty notion floating around in the universe.  It was birthed in the heart of God and is offered to all.  His love for you, for me, and for anyone who is willing to believe is the greatest love story ever told.   

It’s been eight years to the day that my father-in-law passed away.  And the old cliche, “time heals all wounds” this many years out, seems both true and an awful lie all at once.

The sharp pang of loss, the kind that took our breath away for days, weeks, and even months after isn’t our daily companion anymore.  We have whole blocks of time where we don’t even think of him.  But it’s never truly gone either.  It’s in hiding now, jumping out and scaring us at will.  The realness of it sometimes settling in on us again like it did the very first time.  Because there will never be another ANYTHING with him.

There are moments when I catch my husband’s eye and I can read his mind.  He’s smiling on the outside but inside he’s wishing his dad was here.  Here to listen to Levi play the trombone in his Christmas Band Concert, here to receive a homemade card from his little Hannah and here to watch Jake slowly morph into manhood.  The feelings of being robbed of something truly wonderful sets in only to be reminded of the amazing man my mother-in-law has found in the years since.  I remember being so mad back then that my kids wouldn’t have a grandpa to make memories with. This year I spent hours compiling a photo calendar that included precious memories already made with their new grandpa who loves them like they were his very own.

When we are making big life decisions, Aaron will inevitably share how he wishes his dad was here so they could talk and he could gain some wisdom.  He misses his dad’s counsel perhaps most of all.  Not that his dad would ever actually tell us what to do.  No way, that wasn’t his style.  But he would ask questions that would get us thinking and help us look at the situation from different angles so we could make the wisest, most informed choice possible. His was a subtle Jedi-mind trick type of counsel.

I remember back then (we lovingly refer to them as the “dark days”) wondering if I would ever hear my husband’s laughter again.  There was a time so dark and silent that I wasn’t sure we would be able to reach each other again.  The loss of Aaron’s dad was like an earthquake, the perceptible shaking of our world as we knew it, but the aftershocks were the hardest. The magnitude of them although smaller, were also very sporadic, making it almost impossible to prepare for.  They would come without warning and leave destruction in their wake.

As I sit here typing, my husband’s gregarious laugh, the one that is impossible to hear without immediately giving way to a smile, slowly floats up from the basement and settles quietly.  It reminds me that our grief, although not gone, is allowing us to breathe these days.  Just last week, as Aaron was making lefse (a tradition passed down from his father) we locked eyes. Mine quickly clouded with tears as we both felt the loss of his presence in a more tangible way in that moment.

And so, although time has caused a gashing wound to be covered with a layer of love, the wound itself is still there, underneath.  It more closely resembles a scar now, reminding us of the love we shared, the pain we endured & the hope we have in Christ to be reunited again one day.

Here’s to the all the wide open, gashing wounds out there, to the scars, and to those on their journey towards becoming a scar.  Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” May you know today that God is with you in your brokenness and that he alone has the power to save you.

I’m weary.

Maybe you feel it too?

A heaviness from life’s struggles and unmet expectations covers me like a weighted blanket.   Residue from hurt and pain over the past year lingers and makes a case for me to climb up under the covers and never come out.  I’m tired.  And maybe a little sad.  And admitting it only seems to add shame to the mix.

But I also have joy.  Not a warm, fuzzy, happy feeling dripping with sentiment, but a settled assurance, a quiet confidence and a determined choice.  

Pastor Dave shared a biblical definition of the word joy in his sermon a couple weeks ago.  It’s from Kay Warren’s book, “Choose Joy Because Happiness Isn’t Enough.” In it she says joy is, “The settled assurance that God is in control of all the details of my life, the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be alright, and the determined choice to praise God in every situation.”  I have gone back to this over and over again during the past couple of weeks.

I grew up believing joy was a feeling.  I’m wired in a way in which I feel “all the feels” so joy has been something that somewhat eludes me. And yet the Bible talks about the joy of the Lord being our strength so I felt this inner struggle to be feeling joyful all the time when in reality, I just wasn’t. I was missing something though, I was basing it on a feeling when really it’s a decision.  A decision that each of us gets to make.

We all know feelings come and go but joy…

it can remain.

Joy is steadfast, not dependent on any factor other than the decision we make to have it.

Joy doesn’t depend upon my feelings or my circumstances.  It won’t leave me today because I’m feeling weary and sad.  The characteristics of joy are unmoving, solid, settled & determined.  None of these random fluctuating feelings, but instead an anchor for our souls. It’s something we choose not something we feel.

That’s why today, even though I am weary, I will choose joy.  As I make that decision my feelings might fall more into line with a happy disposition.  And they might not.  Regardless, I am reminding myself that God is in control of the details of my life and that ultimately everything is going to be okay because he is my Emmanuel, he is with me.  Whatever I go through, whatever life throws at me, he is by my side, walking through it with me. I’m going to praise him in every situation.  I’m going to choose joy. 

Today I am weary, a little sad and joyful….all at once.

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 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.

I don’t know if you’re anything like me but sometimes I can get really down on myself about my parenting skills (or lack thereof.) I’m constantly worried that I’m not saying the right words, at the right time, with the right balance between love & discipline. It’s enough to drive a person crazy!

This last week the flu hit me hard and nailed me down to the couch the better part of the week. It just so happens that it was the same week my husband was scheduled to be out of town for a conference and I was feeling uber mama guilt for being sick. As if I really had any choice in the matter. It’s not like I raised my hand and volunteered. “Pick me! Please pick me to be sick!”  But I felt guilty anyways. You get it, I know you do.

As the week drug on and my strength drained out, the only adulting taking place was from that of my oldest son Jacob. As the dishes piled high, so did my guilt.  And trying to rid myself of it was about as useless as trying to scrub a greasy, baked on pan without soaking it first.

Staring at my life from a horizontal perspective at first made me feel frustrated. I felt bad I was asking more of the kids and offering less of myself. I was frustrated the kids’ favorite meals and board games I had planned to fill our week had suddenly been exchanged for scrounging the fridge for leftovers and mindless tv watching.

But gradually, as the dishes were being cleared from the living room (where we ate “dinner” every night), and my water bottle was being replenished, as the dishwasher was being filled and ran, the medicine was being administered and the blankets were being tucked in around me….I began to see what was really going on.  My kids were stepping up and doing what needed to be done.  They were…*gasp* being responsible!

Why is it we work so hard to raise kind and responsible kids only to be surprised when they actually display some of these characteristics?

As I eventually learned to let go of the guilt and embrace the fact that I was going to have to rely on my children, I let myself enjoy some of the pampering. Parenting is such an enormous task, it really is. And sometimes the day to day mundane tasks can blur the image of what is really taking place.  Because when I sat back and really watched my kids, this is what I saw: I saw Jacob taking the initiative to clean up, I saw Levi sharing his blanket with me as we snuggled,  I saw Hannah and Levi at the end of the couch doing their reading minutes together. I heard Jacob instructing the younger two in the morning, getting them off to school with all their belongings, I heard their love for me and their faith in a God that heals as they prayed over me. Each day as they returned home, they would all check in with me to see how I was doing, seeing if I felt any better. Love. Care. Initiative. Responsibility. Prayer.

And I’m not sure I would’ve seen all of that that had I been healthy.  So sometimes, when we just can’t change our circumstances, the best thing we can do is to embrace them.  To look for the good from our particular vantage point, whatever that might be. And to take a moment and embrace the beauty that is there already. Because even in the mundane, there is still beauty to behold.

“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. 

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!

“The right word may be effective, but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.” -Mark Twain

I have been trying to hit the pause button in my life a little more often lately.
It seems the busier life gets, the less time I have to pause and yet….the craving for the pause grows stronger within me.

To be perfectly honest with you, pausing can be hard for me.  With all the hustle and bustle of life I find myself scurrying from one noisy  thing to the next. And while I crave the quiet I am also at times uncomfortable with the quiet. 

The noisier life gets, the more accustom to it that I become.

The chatter, the pick-ups, the drop-offs, the obnoxiousness, the arguing, the laughing, the instructing. It’s all going on at once. It’s my constant background noise. But then suddenly I will find myself with a moment void of kids or responsibilities (oh glorious moment!) and I will sit down with my tea and start reading my devotions. And there are mornings where I could do this for hours and never grow tired of it.  But other times I feel exposed, vulnerable and bare in the wake of the silence. It’s uncomfortable. And there’s a part of me that yearns for some noise. Just a little. Something that will distract me from the painful process of growth.

Isn’t there a Pinterest craft I could be working on? Perhaps I should try my hand at a fancy new recipe. There’s always a kid’s room that could use some cleaning & organizing.

Why is it that I always feel I need to be doing something?

Because doing something is always easier than being someone.

The kitchen needs to be cleaned & and a load of laundry thrown in? Bam! Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have both done. Check. Moving on…

My heart needs a little attitude check? I need to take some thoughts captive and make them obedient to Christ? Hmm…might take a little longer than that half hour time slot.  Being not only takes more time than doing, it’s also usually more painful.  Sometimes I wonder, “Is it worth it?”

But the other day I got a reminder that YES, pausing to be in His presence will always be worth it. Letting him take the chisel to my hardened heart and mold me into the person I was designed to be will always be worth the pain.  I was reading in Psalms 23. “True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.”

The words were like water to this dry & weary soul and I realized God was telling me that pausing helps me catch my breath. Taking time to be in His presence, read the Bible and listen to His voice…all these things help me catch my breath. This verse just feels so personal to me. I feel like God is calling us over, saying “Come on over here, sit down on this big comfy couch with me. Put your feet up & grab a cup of tea (or coffee, or whatever your liquid vice is) and kick back and relax with me. Let’s catch up. Tell me what’s on your mind. Let me tell you what’s on mine.  I promise when we’re done you will feel refreshed and ready to tackle the rest of your day. Hit PAUSE for a minute so that when you hit PLAY you can embrace all that I have for you today. I’ll send you off in the right direction, don’t worry.”

He’s assuring us that the pay-off for the time we invest in Him will be worth it!

In music, it’s the pauses that make the rhythms.

Perhaps in life it’s the pauses that make the rhythms too.

Perhaps learning how to pause is a very essential part of learning how to live. 

And here’s a thought. Maybe my pauses don’t always have to be on the couch with my Bible and tea. Maybe I can pause in a car full of kids in the middle of a hectic day. Maybe I can pause while walking in to work.  Maybe I can pause in the middle of a dicey conversation.

Perhaps it’s learning the art of deciphering when and where and how long we need to pause.

In music there is something called a caesura, or a grand pause which indicates a brief, silent pause, during which time is not counted.

What if we could learn in our own lives when to take a break? To pause and linger over something. To tarry for a while. And to not “count it ” against ourselves. What if we saw it as the gift it is instead of crumbling under the weight & pressure to assign guilt to anything that doesn’t have an appearance of producing?  Sometimes we don’t take the pauses we need because of our pride. We wonder what others might think or say if we don’t look like we are “busy doing something.” But then other times we hesitate to pause because we think we need to carve out a whole block of time when really all God is asking from us is that we give him the next few moments.

As we spend time with him I believe we will learn to discern what type of pause we need.

Psalm 27:14 in the New Living Translation says this,

“Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.”

I love this verse. I love how the words brave & courageous are tucked neatly inside the bookends of “wait patiently for the Lord.”

Waiting patiently, pausing, can be an act of bravery & courage.

What type of pause do you need in your life today? Is God asking you to carve out some alone time with Him. Maybe more than your usual time that you spend with him day to day? Or is he reminding you today that even in the midst of your busy schedule you can pause and give Him a moment. Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

“Silence is the pause in me when I am near to God.” -Arvo Part

 

Life is so messy. It just is. The older I get the more I realize I don’t have it all together. And neither does anyone else. For many of us, we are just trying to do our best to navigate this world we live in while trying to shine His light in a lost, confused and messy world.

Today while I was out running (yes, be impressed, I am conquering the couch to 5K app as we speak), I was imagining what I looked like to the poor souls who caught a glimpse of me & my red hot face. I literally cannot run longer than a minute without my face turning 50 shades of crimson. The poor groundskeepers at the church, the garbage men and some sweet frail old man out for a walk with his dog, whose pace almost matched mine, but I digress. All subject to it. This hot mess that I am.

And then I felt God whisper to me, “Yes, you’re my messy masterpiece.” And the thought made me smile. Because while I am a mess, I am His mess. It doesn’t so much matter what I am. Wife, mother, friend, pastor’s wife, wanna be runner…the list goes on and on. But that list doesn’t matter. What does matter is whose I am. 

I am His.

I am His when I am cooking a nutritious meal for my family.

I am His when I slap the Wendy’s take out bags on the table for dinner. (Thrifty too because after 4:00 p.m. kids’ meals are $2.00 with a free Frosty!!!)

I am His when I am comparing myself to others.

I am His when I have a healthy confidence.

I am His when I am loving others unconditionally.

I am His when I am harboring resentment and bitterness.

I am still His. I am a work in progress. I am His messy masterpiece.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying we just do what we want and throw the excuse of “Well, I’m a just a hot mess, I can’t help it” over everything and take no personal responsibility. We need to spend time in God’s word and to put into practice loving others. But in the day to day rhythms of life, while we are doing that, it’s easy for us to get lost in the mess and feel like we’ve failed. Like somehow we aren’t enough.

And today I’d like to remind that you aren’t. You are NOT enough.

Encouraging, right? Well, don’t leave me now. I have two more words for you that change everything.

He is.

He is enough. And when we identify ourselves with Him, when we give Him access to our lives, we become his messy masterpiece and in Him we are enough. We are not enough without Him, we are more than enough with Him.

When he looks at us, he sees a masterpiece, because we are His. It’s why I can look at this:

and tell you it’s my favorite “Starry Night” work of art of all time! Because of whose it is, my daughter Hannah. I love her, she is mine and when I look her I see a beautiful masterpiece.

So today be encouraged, because even if you feel like a “hot mess,” God is looking at you and He sees a beautiful “hot mess of a masterpiece.” And He’s thinking, “I love you, you are mine, and when I look at you, I see a masterpiece.”

I’m gonna steal a quote from “Pretty Woman” and say I think that comparison is also a slippery little sucker. (Insert image of an escargot flying across the dinner table.) It can start out rather harmless. We tell ourselves we are just pointing out the obvious. Stating facts is all. But if we’re not careful those ‘obvious facts’ quickly become bits of information that we allow to play over and over again in our mind. The more we focus on it, the more obsessed we become with it. And if we’re not careful, we can find our comparisons flying out of our hands uncontrollably, just like the slippery snails. We find ourselves trying to weigh things out, wanting everything to be fair.  Problem is, life isn’t fair. And the more we think about it the less content we become with who or what we have in our own lives.

Comparison left unchecked brews discontentment. Discontentment is a state of mind that robs us of our time, energy & joy. So if we’re not careful to take our thoughts captive & make them obedient to Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5) then we find our eyes wandering and our heart growing discontent.

Matthew 20 tells the story of a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. There was an agreed upon price of a denarius for the day of work. A few hours later the landowner goes out and sees others standing in the marketplace, not doing anything, and says to them to go work in his vineyard. He says, “I will pay you whatever is right.” This happens several more times as the landowner goes out again at about noon, 3:00, & 5:00 and hires additional workers.

At the end of the day, the owner of the vineyard calls his foreman and tells him to call in the workers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first. Verse 9 says, “The workers who were hired about five in the afternoon came and each received a denarius. So when those came who were hired first, they expected to receive more. But each one of them also received a denarius. When they received it, they began to grumble against the landowner. ‘These who were hired last worked only one hour,’ they said, ‘and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.’

I can’t tell you how many times I have read this passage and sympathized with the workers. I feel for them. I can put myself in their shoes. Here they have been doing manual labor for the entire day under the scorching rays of the hot sun. They are tired, dirty and thirsty. They look like they’ve been working hard all day. Their hair is disheveled and there’s sweat & dirt caked on their sunburnt faces.  I can imagine them setting down their tools only to look up and find Mr. One Hour of Work (5:00 man) standing there with barely a hair out of place and his clean, callous-free hands reaching out to accept his denarius. Talk about unfair!

But this morning as I was reading this story again the Holy Spirit helped me see things  a bit differently.  Expectations are slippery little suckers too! When we decide in our own mind the way things should go…our expectation of the outcome, instead of trusting God’s heart, we can find ourselves feeling a little ripped off.  But I love how God shows us in this story how He is constantly trying to teach us to trust Him.

The response of the owner of the vineyard mirrors God’s response to me when I want to throw down my tools, stomp my feet and scream “That’s not fair!!” Verse 13,  “But he answered one of them, ‘I am not being unfair to you, friend. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the one who was hired last the same as I gave you. Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money?  ‘Or are you envious because I am generous?’

It feels as if this one question strips everything else away. My answer to this question will determine whether I continue to live a life of comparison or whether I make the decision to live a life full of thanksgiving and gratefulness for what I have already been given.  A life that trusts the hand of God.

Are we envious because He’s generous? Are we envious of the gifting He’s placed inside of others? Are we envious that He has given our friends financial blessings? Or that our friends children are better at sports than ours? Are we spending our time looking around comparing everything and feeling ripped off?? Or are we going to make the intentional decision to stop comparing and start celebrating?!! We need to keep our focus on Him, quit looking at all the things we don’t have and start thanking God for what we do have. And when those around us are blessed by God’s generosity then we need to celebrate with them! 

Celebrating with others brings us into their  journey with them instead of standing on the sidelines being a spectator.  It may only take a few steps to move from spectator to participant but I promise you the vantage point will change everything. Not to mention that we want others to celebrate with us when it’s our turn.  It’s no fun celebrating all by yourself. 

I have a sign in my kitchen window that says, Eucharisteo (or thanksgiving) always, always precedes the miracle. It’s a reminder to me to always be thankful. The miracle of living a life free of comparison will come after we learn to live a life of gratefulness. I am so thankful for a God who patiently shows me how to cultivate a heart of gratefulness. I pray that today we learn to trust His heart as He continues to teach us and stretch our hearts.

To my friend.

Thank you for sharing your journey with us. For dreaming big. For showing us what it looks like to be wrecked by something and then putting action behind those feelings. 

Thank you for showing us that when you allow yourself to dream God-sized dreams, are obedient on your end, and then trust him to do his part…ANYTHING  is possible!  Thanks for the reminder that love is always reason enough.

Thank you for showing us in a very tangible way, the face of determination.  Thanks for sharing the highs and the lows with us. Reminding us that when chasing after dreams it may not always be a smooth and easy road. But that doesn’t mean we should quit or turn back. We keep plowing on ahead. Because some things are worth fighting for. Hungry children. They’re worth fighting for.

Thank you for reminding us that we can share God’s love in an infinite number of ways. Sometimes that’s in conversation, sometimes in relationship and sometimes….in running.

Thank you for encouraging us to find our own creative ways to share God’s love. His creativity is woven into us. We each have the ability to share God’s love in a unique, creative and personal way.

Thank you for inspiring us to dream big dreams ourselves. To look inside and take inventory of the unique talents and gifts inside each of us and realize our potential to change the world.

Thank you for rallying a community together. For showing us that together is better.  For giving us something outside ourselves, bigger than ourselves to strive towards.  Thanks for showing us what living life large really looks like. For reminding us that sometimes the journey is just as important as the destination and that including the right people on your journey can make all the difference.

Thank you that at 2:21 a.m. I can’t sleep and I’m up writing because I am excited, inspired and my heart is stirred.  I’m excited because 100,000 + meals will be delivered to hungry little bellies across the world. I’m excited because this race has caused people to live connected to one another.  I’m excited to see what inspiration may come from watching someone do something beyond themselves for the benefit of others.  

Thank you for running the race to win. And thanks for running it for something even better than a gold medal.

1 Corinthians 9:24-25  “You’ve all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally.”

One of my favorite people that I’ve never actually met. That’s how I referred to her the other day to my sister-in-law. I was talking about my new friend, Jen Hatmaker.  She’s a fun, stylish, hilarious (with a healthy dose of sarcasm thrown in for good measure) mama that loves God with all her heart. The kind of person you are drawn towards. And when it comes to people like that you don’t have to actually meet them to feel like you know them.

Of course, reading a book they’ve written will help forge that “sister love” pretty fast too. Anytime someone shares their heart and their faith journey with you it’s hard not to feel an instant connection, regardless of the miles between you. This is how it happened with me & Jen. She drew me in with her writing that gave me access to her zest for life, her “this is how it is” no nonsense approach to sharing the real her without all the pomp and circumstance. She made my mama heart swell with her love for her kids (the 3 she had and the 2 beauties she adopted from Ethiopia.) And after watching a couple of episodes of her new HGTV show “My Big Family Renovation” I was all in. I mean any girl that decides to renovate a house while raising 5 kids and allows cameras to follow her around at a time that I can only guess held some of her “darkest hours EVER” deserves my applause. I mean really. Shortly after signing up to be her EF (e-mail friend) (you can too by clicking here)  I stumbled upon the opportunity to read a copy of her revised and updated version of  “Interrupted.”

I will admit that I just finished this book a couple of days ago.  And so, while I wish I could fill this post with a review of the book that is wrapped up nice and tidy with a big, beautiful bow on top…I cannot.

I cannot because I have been suspended here while I digest it.
I feel like someone has pushed the “pause” button and I’m caught between what I thought I knew and what I am just now discovering. Or perhaps more just a fuller realization of the life Christ really wants me to live. And I’m trying to figure out what my action step should be. The step that will help put some meat on the bones of my belief. And the idea of looking in the mirror to catch a glimpse of the life God’s offering me only to walk away and immediately forget what it looks like…it leaves me feeling sick.

I’m kinda stuck because in order to move forward things have to change.

I have to change.

I can’t just read it, and “uh-huh” it and go about life as usual anymore. And it’s not just about the book. Interrupted is a tool that I believe God will use when the hands that open the pages reflect the open heart accompanying it.

And while my physical self feels paused my mind and heart are feeling anything but. They are working overtime, running back and forth, going over previous footage of my life, rewinding and unwinding so much of what I thought I knew.

This book for me was not so much a new idea as it was a resurgence of an idea that had gotten lost in the shuffle of life. It has challenged me to get back to the basics.  The basics I had forgotten. Or ignored. Or turned a blind eye to. 

And that were now staring me in the face, begging the question, “What are you going to do about it?”

It’s similar to going on a hike. And getting lost. (Not that I’ve ever done that before. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) At some point you realize  that you’re off the beaten path and you’re not sure where you are or how you got there. You just know you gotta get back.

You started out on the right trail.  But then suddenly, after looking around at your surroundings, you realize you’re not where you want to be. You have to go back to the last place you know you were headed in the right direction and start again. One foot in front of the other. Baby steps.

This is where I find myself. At the last known marked spot. 

And I echo Jen’s words in the book when she says, “I wish I could go back. Then I could go to the optometrist without crying in the parking lot for fifteen minutes because I can afford the extravagant gift of good eyesight. It was less heart wrenching to tuck my kids into bed without envisioning the millions of children who will sleep on dirt with no mother to attend to their needs that night………I enjoyed not feeling raw all the time. I liked imagining I was something rather than realizing I am nothing. I can’t unknow what I know, and I can’t unsee what I’ve seen; it leaves me aching.”

The words that leave me aching now may not have had the same impact a year ago. But God has been breaking me. Slowly. His timing in our lives is one of our greatest gifts although we don’t often realize it. Because while I was reading this book my heart was being transported back to Africa. It’s as if every word I read brought to mind the faces of the children I stared into during my time in Zambia this last May. Those eyes. Those haunting, beautiful eyes. Those hands. Those strong worn hands. Those feet. Those filthy lovely feet. 

That’s when the faces of my African friends turned into the faces of my neighbors. And it cracked my heart wide open.

God was showing me that the love I had for those African villages was the kind of love that was needed in my own neighborhood.

The need is great. The need is everywhere. The need is next door.

The need showed up in Wal-mart a few days later.

It wasn’t anything big. To be absolutely honest, I’m embarrassed to share the smallness of it. But I will anyways.

I couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, but by the looks of it she was short on money and the line of people behind her were gearing up for a mutiny.  We were in checkout aisles next to each other and I felt God whisper to my heart, “Give her some money.” So I did what any good Christian would do…I stalled. I was next in line and I couldn’t very well just leave my groceries there and walk away to help someone else. I mean, I could’ve lost my spot! But my heart started beating harder, faster, louder and I knew God wanted me to do something. So I told God, “Okay, okay, if there’s still a problem over there when I’m done checking out, I’ll go see if I can help.”  As I’m sure you could guess, by the time I had finished paying and packing up the groceries in my cart, there was still a need. I walked over and asked how much she needed. I handed her two bills and she gave me one back saying, “Just this one will be enough. Thank you.”

I barely made it across the parking lot to my car before I started coming undone. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. I sat in my vehicle with my puffy eyes and wondered how something so small could impact me so greatly.

Could it be, as Jen writes, “We have an innate craving to live on mission with God in the dangerous, exciting world. Out there is where we come to life, get over ourselves, are fed.”

Could it be that something as small as getting out into my grocery store (my world) and living on mission with God (listening to his promptings, even the little ones like covering someone’s grocery bill) could help me get over myself and feed me? 

I’ve been contemplating Jen’s questions.

“If we’ve been in church for years yet aren’t full, are we really hungry for more knowledge? In our busy lives, do we really need another program or event? Do we really need to be fed more of the Word or are we simply undernourished from an absence of living the Word? Maybe we love God, but are we loving others? If our faith is about us, then we are not just hungry-our spirits are starving.”

Are you ready to let Jesus’ teachings wreck your comfortable Christian life? Are you okay with living in a state of “pause” for a bit while you ask God to help you figure this stuff out? Are you okay with being cracked wide open, being left vulnerable and raw? If so, then this is the book for you.

But if not, then this is still the book for you. (Sneaky, huh?)

You see, I’m not sure I would’ve answered “yes” to all of these questions myself a month ago.  But here’s the thing: The “rawness” I was scared of has become my greatest gift. My vulnerability rubbed me raw until all I had left was Jesus.

That’s all that’s left. That’s all I need.

So, because I have enjoyed this book so much and to say “thank-you” to all my loyal readers, I am giving away a brand new copy of the book Interrupted: When Jesus Wrecks Your Comfortable Christianity. The more you like, share & tweet…the better your chances of winning. So go ahead and comment, share, like and tweet. And may the odds be ever in your favor.

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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 had been waiting to get my hands on a new book on my Kindle for a while.  Finally a night with no prior engagements. I grabbed my blankets and drew them up close to my chin and started in.  I had only gotten about halfway through the first page when my husband, who was starting a new book himself, started laughing. I began again and got to about the same point in my book when my husband starts laughing again, quite hysterically. By this point my curiosity was getting the better of me so I turned off my [easyazon-link asin=”B005890G8Y”]Kindle[/easyazon-link] and asked him to read me a little bit from his book.

I guess you could say I was pretty much hooked after the first sentence of chapter one where the author, Peter Haas, starts off with this: “The first time I ever cussed into a church microphone was right after I became a youth pastor.”  

Maybe it was because my husband & I had served as youth pastors for several years in northern Minnesota ourselves and it brought on a rush of memories.  Maybe it was the candor in his sharing.  Perhaps it was just that I knew his book was going to elicit a few good laughs from me.  I hold in high regard anyone who has a great sense of humor.  Whatever the reason, the next morning I snagged the book from my husband’s bedside table & spent the rest of the day devouring it. And that’s how I spent my day, reading from cover to cover, Peter Haas’s new book, Pharisectomy.

[easyazon-image-link asin=”1936699443″ alt=”Pharisectomy: How to Joyfully Remove Your Inner Pharisee and other Religiously Transmitted Diseases” src=”http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/5170mNl0bOL._SL160_.jpg” align=”left” width=”107″ height=”160″][easyazon-link asin=”1936699443″]Pharisectomy: How to Joyfully Remove Your Inner Pharisee and other Religiously Transmitted Diseases[/easyazon-link] Now I’ll tell you right now that there will be some people who won’t even pick this book up because of the title.  After all, who wants to be associated with the idea of needing to have your inner Pharisee surgically removed?  And unfortunately, the people who probably need this book the most are likely to be the same people who believe they have no need for it.  Someone perhaps like me.  A Christian who has been raised in the church her entire life.  A bible college graduate.  A pastor’s wife.  But the theme and premise of this book was something that had been stirring in my heart over the last few months. I had experienced some subtle nudgings and even a few  harsh pokes from the Holy Spirit over the last couple months while reading another amazing book, [easyazon-link asin=”0736916393″]Grace Walk: What You’ve Always Wanted in the Christian Life[/easyazon-link], by Steve McVey. [easyazon-image-link asin=”0736916393″ alt=”Grace Walk: What You’ve Always Wanted in the Christian Life” src=”http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51Zroseb3EL._SL160_.jpg” align=”right” width=”103″ height=”160″] I had been slowly learning, perhaps relearning, a very important lesson.  Law means that I do something for God while grace means that God does something for me.  And I was learning that the approach I was embracing was having a direct result on the joy I was experiencing in my journey with Him.

You see there are two very different approaches we can take towards God’s Law. There is the legalistic approach and then there’s the grace-driven approach.  The first, the legalistic approach, occurs when we obey God’s Moral Law in order to earn God’s love and attain God’s righteousness.  This pharisaical approach is the epitome of legalism. The other option, the grace-driven approach, occurs when we understand God’s free gift of grace.  Understanding this approach will cause us to realize that our righteousness has nothing to do with our behavior. The author, Peter Haas says this, “The difference between a Pharisee and a Christian is not that one teaches the Law and the other doesn’t.  Rather, the difference is in how the Law is taught and the motives that drive our obedience to the Law.” And so for many of us who have been in church for a while, it can become easy to neglect the subtle nuances between whether our works are deriving from a place of  “I have to” or “I get to.”  I love how the author sums it up like this, “In Christ, faith is our only obligation; the rest of God’s Law is celebration.”

In the fourth chapter of his book, titled, “Checkbook Christianity”, Haas talks about the idea of people being like checking accounts.  His point is that you’ve got to make “deposits” in people before you can make “withdrawls.”  By making deposits into people’s lives we earn the right to teach truth.  Without this “love deposit” our truth can actually cause rebellion in a person.  Haas says, “Truth was never meant to be delivered outside of the context of a loving community.” Speaking truth is easy, earning the right to speak truth takes time and effort.

In his chapter titled “Christians vs. Children of God”, Haas lists 3 cautions in remaining healthy followers of Christ. Caution #1: If you judge based on format or style instead of fruitfulness, you’ll miss God. Caution #2: When you judge, you become isolated from the grace of God in other people. And lastly, Caution 3#:You can’t antagonize & influence at the same time.

One of my favorite chapters of the entire book was Chapter 6 entitled, “The Art of Hedge Making.”  In this chapter the author discusses classic behaviors of a well-meaning legalist.  He starts out the chapter discussing the idea of not all beliefs being equally important.  He does this in a very easy to understand way with his belief continuum.  Basically, the continuum starts with Fundamentals which are the essentials, and then works its way down the chart to Inferences, Speculations, and Opinions which gradually become less and less essential.   Haas brings it all together by stating this, “But, in light of these varying levels of belief, it’s important to understand: Every human being has the sinful tendency to take their opinions, inferences, and speculations and pass them off as fundamentals.”

The author points out that having boundaries or “hedges” isn’t the problem.  The problem occurs when we take and force those personal convictions onto other people.  According to Haas, there are 5 ways that “hedge making” can hurt us.  The first is that it often becomes a substitute to for listening to the Holy Spirit or discerning God’s will.  The second, hedge making can cause people to seek God’s word less.  Third, it causes your church to become an elitist. Fourth, it causes churches to become a hostile place for skeptics and new believers. And lastly, church becomes the ultimate distraction from God’s mission.

In chapters 7 & 8, Haas examines something he refers to as a “pet purpose.”  We all have one. A pet purpose is not a bad thing.  It is essentially a function of the body of Christ that specifically inspires you.  But as Haas states, the problem lies when “Christians or churches get so overcommitted to their pet purpose that they start to define it as more spiritual than others.” When this happens our “pet purpose” becomes a “rabid pet purpose.”

Haas takes a minute in his book to go over the five main themes to a biblical church.  These themes are taken from the book Purpose Driven Church by Rick Warren.  They include evangelism, fellowship, discipleship, ministry and worship.  If you want to be a healthy, biblical church, then the aim is to develop all five of these themes.

The author ends these two chapters by giving three solutions to helping keep ourselves and our churches effective and free of problems.  The first is that healthy churches create “dog parks.”  Secondly, healthy churches avoid church service Christianity.  And the last is healthy churches create an others-oriented culture.

The last chapter delves into the generation gap and how we can bridge that gap in our churches. As Haas states, “There is a direct correlation between the median age of a church and its odds of reaching unchurched people.” Research has shown that receptivity to the gospel decreases with age. Studies have also shown that as churches and their leaders age, their odds of both growing and reaching unchurched people decreases. Haas shares his belief that we need to start looking for more anointed young people that we can empower. He believes that these young people will know how to reach their generation better than anyone else.

[easyazon-link asin=”1936699443″]Pharisectomy[/easyazon-link] is one of the best books I have read in years. It was thought provoking, informative & witty.  Although my personal journey of learning to remove my inner Pharisee has been a process, I believe it is one that has been God ordained.  No matter where you are in your faith walk, I believe this book will help. It will provide you with insight and a fresh perspective.  And most importantly, it will leave you with a feeling of hope.  Some of Christ’s last words are recorded in John 13:34 “A new command I give you: Love one another…By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”  We are called to be a loving community and by doing so we reveal our Father to the world around us.  When the world sees the love we have for them and for each other, they will understand God’s love.  1 Samulel 2:7 from the Message version says, “He rekindles burned-out lives with fresh hope!” Only God can do that.

If you interested in reading[easyazon-link asin=”1936699443″]Pharisectomy[/easyazon-link] or [easyazon-link asin=”0736916393″]Grace Walk[/easyazon-link] you can order them by visiting my recommended books page.  Order it and have it shipped right to your front door or send it to your[easyazon-link asin=”B0051QVESA”]Kindle[/easyazon-link] today.

I am mother to three of the most amazing kids & am madly in love with my husband who just also happens to be my best friend.   I am passionate about all things faith & family.

We live a rather quiet & simple life…I wouldn’t want it any other way.

MY OTHER INTERNET HANG OUTS

Here’s a great recipe if you like rhubarb. (And probably even if you don’t).  It’s super easy & delicious! A couple of you were asking for it and some of you I know love to bake so here goes…

Crust:

• 2 c. unsifted flour
• 3/4 c. powdered sugar
• 1 c. butter

Filling:

• 4 eggs
• 2c. sugar
• 1/2 c. unsifted flour
• 1/2 t. salt
• 4 c. diced rhubarb

For crust:

Combine flour & sugar; cut in butter until crumbs form.  Press onto bottom of 15″x 10″x1″ jelly roll pan.  Bake at 350 degrees F for 15 min.

For filling:

Blend eggs, sugar, flour & salt until smooth.  Fold in rhubarb.  Spread over hot crust; Bake for 40-45 min. at 350 degrees F until filling is lightly brown.  Cool & cut into squares.   Makes 28 bars.