Not On My Own Understanding

The days are growing longer, my body more weary by the day, as this littlest one stretches and outgrows my womb.  I'm ready for her to be here...and yet I'm not.

My mind wanders, as it usually does when I am physically tired and there are too many unknowns looming ahead.  I don't like this not knowing.  I want to plan, to know, to be prepared. 

But only God knows when and how this littlest one will arrive.  And sometimes, that truth is hard for this planner to swallow.

As my husband packed up the van Saturday morning to take our four year old mountain biking on some nearby trails, I tried to ignore the anxious thoughts crowding my mind by loading up the car with my firstborn and our not-so-much-a-baby-but-still-my-baby youngest son for a trip to the fabric store. 

I smiled at their silly banter and their smiles that always melt my heart...and then my four year old, usually the biggest comedian in our home, caught me so off guard with wisdom far beyond his years.

"Mommy! He's going to take care of you!" he said in a sing-song voice as he continued to bounce back and forth. 

"Who is?" I asked, completely surprised by a near serious statement from the mouth of my silliest son.

"God is!" he said with complete confidence. 

My anxious thoughts stilled and my heart grew calmer as I remembered the simplest truth that I too often forget.  Funny that it took my four year old to remind me of what I already knew...and how my own words to him the night before as he struggled to fall asleep were words I needed to hear myself.

The next day, still weary, and feeling the emotional toll of saying goodbye to dear friends, the anxious thoughts returned, stronger and harder than the day before.  I wept in my husband's arms, the tears coming deep and wide as I tried to put into words the turmoil in my soul. 

"Do you trust God to take care of our baby?" my husband whispered, holding my head up so I could look into his eyes and really hear his words. 

"Do you really trust Him?" he repeated, when I could barely make out a hesitant "yes" through the tears.

"Sometimes...I think I know in my head...but my heart is at war with my head." I said, as the storm began to calm and I realized the truth I was wrestling with all along. 

I say I believe He will take care of me, of my children, of our unborn baby, of every single one of our needs...but do I really trust Him? 

The closer we get to my due date, the more the memories flood: long, difficult labors, tears of frustration and defeat, monitors beeping and doctors whispering, my arms aching to hold our firstborn...our second-born, the waiting rooms and NICU stays, the sleepless nights filled with what ifs and fears beyond our control...the littlest one gone too quickly from my womb, the friends whose stories were far different than they had expected or hoped for, the babies missing from their mother's arms. 

Motherhood is never a guarantee, no matter how many milestones we pass.  I know too well how many ways "everything will be okay" has been one big fat lie. 

But I also know how many ways "God will take care of you" has always, always been the only truth I can cling too in a sea of unknowns.  Never once has He left my side.  Never once has He been surprised.  Never once has He given up on me.  Never once has He stopped loving, stopped caring, stopped working all things together for good.

As I lay in bed last night, He brought these words to mind, words I've heard and memorized over and over...but, somehow, they became more alive and real to me more than any other time in my life.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.

(Proverbs 3:5-6)

I held onto the second line of words for a moment longer as He whispered truth deep into my wayward heart: "do not lean on your own understanding".  There are so many things I don't understand...and yet I try.  I ponder and I wonder and I wrestle over and over in my mind...and still I don't understand.

I don't understand why there are so many messy pieces to my story.  I don't understand why it hasn't been easier.  I don't understand why some babies live...and some babies die.  I don't understand why storms happen and why He doesn't always calm the storms.  I don't understand why I wrestle with intense emotions and a heart that feels so deep and wide. 

His ways are far above my own and no matter how long I wrestle with understanding, I will never come close.   

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

(Isaiah 55:8-9)

And again, He reminds me:

Whoever trusts in his own mind is a fool,
but he who walks in wisdom will be delivered.

(Proverbs 28:26)

I'm a fool every time I listen to the anxious thoughts and allow them to consume me...but God never gives up on me and He's always there to take me back in His arms.  He has already given me far more than I deserve and when I simply rest in Him, no matter how much I want to wrestle with the unknowns and try to understand the "why's", He will deliver me from the prison of my own mind.  

And so, today, with mercies anew and grace that knows no bounds, I will rest in the One who knows far more than me and the One who has already proven faithful, time and time again.

You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.
Trust in the LORD forever,
for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.

(Isaiah 26:3-4) 

 

On Being Brave

It was a perfect summer day...wind blowing through the trees, sun shining bright, summer foods prepared and ready to enjoy, family gathered round...and a big swimming pool looming in the background.

As a kid, I spent my summer days in my swimsuit, splishing and splashing around with my brothers and sisters in our own backyard paradise.  We'd dry off just long enough for lunch and then jump right back in as soon as our food had settled in our bellies.  My dad would join us when he came home from work and we would laugh as we taught him what we learned in swimming lessons and he would put on his swimming goggles and ear plugs and try to copy what we demonstrated.

Sometimes my mom would join us too, especially when my dad was swimming with us, because she somehow didn't trust his lifeguarding skills enough.  He was much more a kid than an adult when he dove in that pool.  Other times, she would watch and smile and photograph our silly summer fun.  She never appeared uncomfortable or afraid to put on her swimsuit and join us.

When my body started to grow and change, shedding my carefree childhood days for the confusing and uncomfortable transition as a preteen, putting on a swimsuit became a daily battle.  I'd squeeze into that itty bitty swimsuit and try not to cry as I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Swimsuit shopping was even worse, because finding a swimsuit that fit my ever changing body and was also cute and comfortable became nearly impossible.  I'd fight back tears as I tried on swimsuit after swimsuit, wishing with everything in me that I could fit into the cute two pieces, but resigning myself to the not as fashionable and often boring one piece swimsuits...because at least they covered my not so flat belly and the stretch marks that had already begun to appear.  

Still, I pressed on and I put on that swimsuit anyways, walking outside with a towel covering me until I could quickly throw it off and jump in the pool before anyone noticed how uncomfortable I really was.  Because the moment my feet hit the water and I joined my family for another day of swimming fun I forgot about the too tight swimsuit and my tears of frustration at the way my body was changing and growing.  The water became freeing as I dove under and swam around, laughing and joining in on the water games my family made up as we splished and splashed along.

So, years later, when my firstborn begged me to take her into the big swimming pool on that perfect summer day, I knew I had a choice to make.  I could continue to allow the negative self talk to ruin my summer and miss out on a chance to create a lasting memory...or I could take a deep breath, squeeze into that swimsuit, and jump into the water with a smile as I reached out my arms for my daughter to jump in with me.

Someone told me later that day that I was so brave for joining my kids in the pool while the rest of the moms sat and watched.  I didn't think I was very brave, because there was still a battle raging in my mind.  But the more I allowed the water to free me from those thoughts that weighed me down and the longer I stared at my daughter's smile and my son's carefree laughter, the more I realized that those thoughts don't have to own me.  

This body I'm living in may not be perfect, but perfection doesn't equal beauty.  Beauty is found in the way my body has grown and changed to carry life, the way a smile on my face can chase away any dark clouds, the way my children's faces light up when I embrace the moments with them that are far too quickly slipping away, the way my words can build up and encourage others, the way I can choose to live as a beloved child of a gracious God instead of a prisoner to this imperfect flesh.

Long after we had dried off and changed back into our clothes, my kids couldn't stop beaming about how they got to swim in the big pool with mommy.  If I had allowed the negative thoughts to own me, I would have missed that opportunity to see my daughter swim across the pool with only a noodle to keep her afloat saying "I'm swimming, mommy!  I'm swimming!"...or to see my son giggle as I held him tight and he kicked his feet to swim from one side to the other.

 my mother in law snapped this photo and I'm so glad she did...

a moment frozen in time that I'll not soon forget

And someday, when each of my children begin to shed their carefree childhood days and their bodies start to grow and change in ways that confuse and frustrate, I want them to remember how their mommy jumped in that water, stretch marks, imperfections, and all.  I want them to know that beauty isn't about skin and bones, but about life and love and embracing the gifts that each day brings.  


*Thank you to Jessica of The Mom Creative for inspiring me to make the choice to put on my swimsuit and embrace the joy of the moment.  I'm so glad I didn't allow those negative thoughts to own me.  These photos, those smiles, and the memories frozen in time were so worth it.

 

Finding Spiritual Whitespace: A Letter to My Younger Self

Dear Middle School Me,

Right now you're confused and hurt and wondering where you fit in this world.  You feel things deeply but everyone tells you you're "too sensitive" and that you need to "lighten up".  You throw yourself into your school work to forget about the friends who push you away and the way you never seem to fit in anywhere.

Plus, you're so afraid of failure, so there is really no other way.  That one time you got a D on a history quiz and the disappointed look on your parents' faces haunts you.  You'll do everything possible to never feel that pain again...even if it means pushing those hurts and pains and the way you feel everything so deep and hard into the furthest corners of your heart.

You learn to hide and forget, but I want you to know that you don't have to.  It's okay to feel deeply every moment of your life, because it's the way God made you.  He made no mistake when He knit you together in your mother's womb.  I know it doesn't make sense now and you wish you really could just let things go, but God knows that your tender heart is needed in this world of pain and suffering and sorrow.

You pour your words secretly into your journals, letting the tears fall at night when no one is watching, hiding your words in the darkest corner of your closet.  You've always dreamed of being a writer, but that dream seems so far away now...and, besides, who would ever want to read your words anyways?  The only words you can find right now are a jumbled heap of hurts and fears that don't make any more sense on paper than they do in your heart. 

You long to be loved, but all you see when you look in the mirror is an overweight girl with crooked teeth and huge glasses. Clothes shopping is your worst nightmare, because the mirror only magnifies every flaw and insecurity.  You hate summer, because it means shorts and swim suits and exposing more imperfections that you work so hard to hide from the world.

Someday your body that you try so hard to hide will bring life into the world and you will smile at every stretch mark and the stories they have written in your life.  You will curl up next to your love, the man who promised in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health...and he will gently caress every stretch mark and flaw, whispering words of beauty and love that take your breath away.  He will marvel at the way your body is growing and changing as it carries life and he will look at you with a love so deep and strong it will change the way you see the skin you are in.

You will be broken even more and you will question so much...but the One who knew every piece of your story long before you were placed in your mother's womb will not let you go.  Just when you think you can't take anymore, He will whisper words of love and life and breathe grace and peace into all your hurts.  You will break, but you will heal and your healing will be part of the story and purpose He began writing into your life long ago.  

And someday you will share your words with the world and start writing your story as a memoir, embracing your long ago dreams and finding the confidence to love the beautiful mess your life has written.  People will read your words and tell you to keep on writing.  You'll write when nothing makes sense and somehow writing your story will help you understand who you are and why you're here.  The words will fall from your heart and hands like poetry and wash over you like healing waters.

So, though you want to hide and all you feel is hurt and brokenness, I want you to know that you are beautiful...just the way you are.  Not one of your tears is forgotten and God is not finished with you yet.  He really does work all things together for good and He will use your broken pieces to not only make you whole again, but to breathe life and encouragement into so many other lives.  Though there is weeping in the night, joy will come in the morning and you will be more than okay. 

Linking up my spiritual whitespace moment with Bonnie Gray and a community of women Finding Spiritual Whitespace.

 

When Hard Is Just Plain Hard

I can't remember where I found this photo, but I saved it from a Google image search a while ago.

I've seen a few different posts and shares on facebook lately with quotes that say something like this: "There's always someone who wishes they had what you have." For some reason, it bothers me every time I read these quotes.

It's been a tough week for me, for many reasons.  I've been struggling with some underlying fears that needed to be addressed, allergies and sinus pressure that are worse with pregnancy, and just plain exhaustion from lack of sleep and kids who are testing every ounce of my sanity. 

I realize that everyone has their own struggles and that my struggles may seem minor compared to someone else...but when you're in the thick of your own hard, being told that your hard isn't really that hard can feel like a crushing weight of defeat. 

Yes, we each have our own struggles.  None of us are perfect; what looks picture perfect on the surface may simply be hiding some difficult trials or circumstances that would surprise even your closest friends. 

It's easy to hide behind a facebook status, a smiling photo, or even a quick "I'm fine" when asked the customary "how are you?".  But being vulnerable enough to share our deepest hurts and pains can be downright terrifying...especially when the response might be "well, at least you're not going through..." or "you know, it could be worse...". 

It's so easy for me to play the comparison game and I think that's what bothers me the most about these quotes.  It's good to have a healthy dose of perspective, but the underlying tone of these messages is to compare our lives to someone else. 

Comparing my life to someone whose struggles are far bigger than my own is just as dangerous as comparing my life to someone who appears to have it all together.

Yes, your hard may be harder than mine, but hard is still hard.  What we really need when we take away the mask and show our real mess is to be loved and known for who we really are.  So, maybe, instead of pointing out how one person's struggles are harder than another's, we should stop comparing and simply be present.  

***

 
If you're looking for a place to be real and trying to find your brave in order to share your deepest heart's cries, tonight is the start of a beautiful online conference put on by one of my favorite online communities, (in)courage.  Check out their free (in)RL conference; it's not too late to join!

 

There Is A Season...

photo credit

I wrote these words just over a year ago and I've been thinking on them often lately:

I love everything about autumn: the vibrant colors of leaves losing their summer green, the gentle, cool breeze sweeping through the windows, the smell of pumpkin spice lattes and a steaming bowl of soup...but I know that all too soon winter will come and with it the gloom of darkness. So, today, I am putting on my "armor" and remembering that there is a season for everything and that God has a purpose and plan already mapped our for me. And I'm holding onto this peace, HIS peace, that surpasses understanding. 

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." (John 14:27)

Our family has been going through a season of sifting lately and it's been hard, so very hard to hold onto hope when I can't see much past today.  I asked a friend the other day if maybe God was wrong in giving me the word HOPE this year, because it just doesn't make sense.  She gently but firmly reminded me that hope isn't defined by our circumstances, but by the God who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.  He knows what He's doing and He is not surprised by the things that knock us clear off our feet. 

I've gone back and forth with the idea of doing a 31 series for October, but I have felt Him urging me in a different direction.  First, because there is so much sifting going on, there are days I simply need to take a step back from everything and find quiet rest in the stillness of just being here.  I knew if I committed to writing every single day, it would become a chore and I would obsess over it, neglecting my quiet time with Him and my responsibilities here as a wife and mom. 

Second, I don't think just one topic would be enough to write out everything He is doing in my heart in the midst of it all.  When I sit down to write, often I have no idea where my fingers are going to take me as the words spill out.  I always feel refreshed when I simply write, without an agenda or deadline.  Sometimes I need structure to motivate me to write when it's hard, but too much structure can suffocate my writing. 

Third, I don't want to just write for the month of October.  I want to write and write and write, whenever the words come and I find myself here staring at a blank screen.  But, I also want to write more than just a few blog posts.  I still have a dream to put my words into a book and if I ever want to finish the one I already began, I need to give that writing priority over writing here.  So, some days I will write here and some days I will write there, but always I want to simply write. 

With all that said, I do have a few plans for my writing here for the next few months, but it will be much less structured than a 31 day series.  I have a few mini series I want to either start or continue and I look forward to sharing them with whoever comes to read my words. 

Living Gluten Free - I wrote an introduction of this topic with promises of continuing writing about my journey of gluten free living, but I have yet to follow through.  I'm going to continue this mini series once a week on Thursdays with no specific end date in mind.  I will simply write until I feel like the series is complete. 

Holding Onto Hope {Truth Reminders} - It may only be fall here, but the way our lives have been rocked by some really hard stuff, it feels like we're almost in the middle of another winter already.  I know that the only way to wade through the storm without drowning is to hold onto the only anchor that is firm and secure and that is HOPE.  I will share this mini-series on Mondays, focusing on what it means to hold onto hope, but it won't begin until October 14.  I have a fun book launch to share with all of you next Monday (October 7) written by a blogging friend who has become dear to me on a topic that echoes my own heart's desires. 

{Back to School, Back to Writing} - I participated in several of Creative Soul's daily writing prompts for the month of September, but there are some I never got a chance to write.  I'm going to continue sharing some of these on Fridays. 

{Back to Basics} A Walk Through Ephesians - I mentioned on facebook the idea of writing a series on the book of Ephesians, because it's the first book of the bible that I really studied in depth and it has been integral to my walk with Him.  I'm going to share this series on Tuesdays starting sometime later in the month.  I want to take some time to really dig through these truths again before sharing my thoughts and some challenges from His words here. 

And, of course, occasionally there will be stand alone posts that simply speak my heart whenever I need to just write. So, that's the plan, but it's only tentative.  I look forward to sharing more of my heart with each of you here.

 

In Between

 photo credit

It's been quiet around here, which is both a good thing and a bad thing.  It's good, because it means I'm busy living life, but it's also bad, because writing is so very good for me and it means that life is too busy to find time for writing.  I've learned in the past few years, especially since I became a mom, that I need to write, because it's something that is as much a part of me as breathing.  It's the way I communicate and process life best. 

Someone asked me the other day how in the world I have time for writing in the middle of raising three little ones.  My answer?  I make time for writing, because I need to write.  Sometimes it means taking a step back away from social media so I can free myself from the noise and distractions that give me the biggest writer's block.  Other times it means carrying around a notebook and writing on the back steps while the kids are playing in the backyard.  It's different every time, but it's always good for my soul when I make the time to write. 

I always find it strange and awkward to tell someone in real life that I'm a writer.  I don't have my name plastered on a book or a best selling novel on the New York Times best seller's list.  I am simply a momma who loves to write and spills words on a computer screen for whoever wants to read them.  I'm not even a well known blogger and sometimes it feels strange to even call myself a blogger. 

How do you explain to someone who has rarely even read a blog before what it means to expose your heart in words on a screen or how some of my sweetest friendships have been formed through the internet?  There was a time when I scoffed at even the thought of using instant messenger and the first time I heard about facebook I laughed.  Now?  Facebook has become as much a part of my vocabulary and every day as blogging. 

I get teased a lot by family and friends in real life that I spend way too much time on the computer and sometimes it bugs me more than I wish it did.  I am so hard on myself to begin with, so sometimes the teasing just adds to my feelings of failure.  Other times I wonder how to explain the blessing the internet has been for me as a stay at home mom of three little ones who craves community as much as alone time. 

I am a very outgoing person, but there are times as a mom that I wonder if I'm not as outgoing as I once thought.  The exhausting day in and day out of mothering often leave me parched for community but too tired to seek it.  I want to call up a friend and meet up at the park, but I'm too tired to take a shower, get dressed, and wrestle all three kids in the van.  So, I hole up at home day after day and the more I remain in the safe cocoon of my home the harder it becomes to seek out and grow real life friendships. 

Social media has become a life line for me.  On the days when simply getting out of bed is enough achievement, I find comfort and community in the women who meet me here, right where I am.  I post a facebook status and remember I'm not alone through the comments, messages, and wall posts of women who understand and get exactly where I am.  I read a blog post or send an email and find women who know exactly what it's like to be craving community at the same time you crave time alone. 

Sometimes coming here or to my facebook page is all the energy I can muster and it's easier to find community online than in real life.  I have found some beautiful friends here, but I can't forget the real life community God has placed right here in my everyday life.  I just don't always know how to find them again after time spent curled up on my couch and behind a screen.  I know my limits and sometimes my limits make it a lot harder to connect with people in real life. I'm not the mom who can run here and there and everywhere on limited amounts of sleep.  I don't function well on little sleep and I function even less on busy.  So I sit here, stuck in between the online and in the flesh connections, wondering where exactly I fit. 


* I've been pondering Lisa-Jo's Five Minute Friday prompt from last week, but I couldn't quite find the words to explain something that's been on my heart lately until today.  Too often, I find that five minutes isn't enough time for me to really spill my heart in words.  I need to sit and ponder, wait and wonder, until the words finally come. 

 

Pursued With A Relentless Love

photo credit

Last week was rough, which is, in fact, the understatement of the year.  My husband was away on a business trip from Sunday through Friday, which is not a normal occurrence.  I packed the van with everything but the kitchen sink for a week at my parent's house, because there was no way I was single-parenting three kids on my own. 

The first night, I wrestled two over-tired kids into bed one-handed while bouncing the littlest one on my knee lest his own tired whimpers become full on screams.  My husband called in the middle of the bed time routine and I made the mistake of putting him on speaker phone so the kids could hear his voice.  After the phone call was finished, I tucked them in, kissed them good night, and curled up on the living room couch to nurse a now over-tired baby.  Not even five minutes later, I heard crying for daddy from our three year old and a distressed four year old begging mommy to help her sad little brother.  

That was just the beginning of a week spent drying tears, breaking up fights, dealing with epic temper tantrums, and disciplining one disobedient act after another all while running on constant doses of coffee to keep my sleep deprived self from falling asleep standing up.  By the end of the week, I felt like a complete and total failure.  All three kids finally fell asleep within minutes of the drive home on Friday, while I fought to keep my own eyes open and counted down the hours until I could collapse into the arms of my husband.  

Once he was home, I couldn't seem to put into words just how hard the week had been.  I wanted to forget it all and simply relish in the joy that he was home, but I couldn't shake the feelings of failure.  I finally sat in his arms Sunday night and whispered, "I just felt like no matter how hard I tried all week, I just wasn't good enough."  Plain and simple - the kids wanted their daddy and, as much as they loved me, and as hard as I tried to meet their needs, I couldn't fill their need for daddy. 

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized that this is exactly how I feel a lot in my relationship with Him.  No matter how many times I read His words and soak up His truths, I always seem to struggle with being good enough.  It was in voicing this fear out loud that I realized - I won't ever be good enough...and that's the point.  

Why can't I seem to grasp how deep and wide is His grace?  It's that lie I've believed for far too long - that somehow I have to earn His favor, to do enough or be good enough.  But the truth is, I can never earn His favor, no matter how long or how hard I try.  Grace is simply this: a gift of undeserved favor freely given.

"For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 

For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ." 

(John 1:16-17)

I call myself Girl of Grace, but too often I struggle to fully embrace the fullness of His grace.  But, maybe that's the point too.  Because when I come to the end of myself, exhausting all my efforts, leaving me completely empty...I can finally surrender and grab hold of His grace that is all sufficient and more than enough.  For when I am weak, He is strong.  

Yesterday, as I studied the day's passage from my study of Luke with Good Morning Girls, I was struck by how relentlessly God pursues even one lost sheep.  There may be ninety-nine sheep safely grazing in green pastures, but He will seek and find that one lost sheep no matter how long it takes or how hard it is to find it.  And again, this morning, as I read the story of the lost coins, I was reminded that, as Matthew Henry says, the lost coin had little value as does one sinful man...and yet, God still pursues that one lost "coin" and rejoices when it is found.  

"But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, 
His love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; 
and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination 
that we shall be cured of those sins, at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him." 

(C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity)

Perhaps C.S. Lewis explains this mystery of grace even better when he says how God is quite relentless in His pursuit of us, "at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him".  And that cost?  It was death on a cross, a death that was meant for sinful man but bore on the shoulders of the only sinless "man", who was really God in the flesh.  For, even while we were yet sinners, He died for us.  That picture of grace...the fact that, even though we reject Him and even run the other way, He still chose to give Himself as a sacrifice once and for all.  He saw everyone of my faults, every time I stray, every way I fall short...and He still loved me and chose to pursue me with such a beautiful, relentless love. 

As I continue to process the truth and magnitude of His most precious gift of grace, I've been challenged that instead of looking at all the ways I fall short and focusing on how not good enough I am, I need to instead fix my eyes on Him, the author and perfecter of my faith.  I want to grab hold and embrace all His promises, to see who I am in Him instead of who I am in the flesh.  And so, I am going to begin a series of posts here on Monday mornings called {Truth Reminders} Whose I Am where I will write through the process of uncovering and claiming the truths of who I am in Him.  Will you join me?  

 

{Bigger Picture Poetry} Truth Magnified

photo credit: Jonas' Designs

I bought myself a swim suit today,

A task I've dreaded in the past.

Because that dressing room mirror?

It magnifies every imperfect flaw

And brings back every insecure lie

Ever spoken to my heart.

But today truth won

And grace spoke,

Of curves and stripes

That bore precious gifts

Of battles fought and pains endured

That brought forth hope and healing.

So that mirror today?

It magnified Him

In an unexpected peace

And security found

In the arms of love

Who calls me His own

And graciously gives all things.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this month's Bigger Picture Poetry prompt.

 

{Bigger Picture Moments} Rejuvenate: Memories

photo source

 

 

Memory is a funny thing.

Sometimes I remember the strangest details of an event years ago, like the food we were eating or the shirt I was wearing. 

But then there are events that my brain tries to forget, pushing them as far back in my memory bank as possible.  It's just too painful to remember. 

Until one little moment triggers that memory: a phone call, a smell, a bible verse, a song, a simple question, a medic helicopter in transport.  Suddenly, without warning, I am transported to that memory...and all the hurt and pain comes rushing back like a flash flood.

I have to stop to catch my breath or pick myself up off the floor, praying fervently for the anxiety that is triggered by the emotional trauma of those experiences to not hold me captive again. 

Because, the truth is?  I still have panic attacks.  They are fewer and far between, but they are still there, lurking under the surface in the disguise of a memory. 

I wake up in a sweat, my teeth clenched tight, throwing off the covers, and leaping out of bed.  Was that a real memory or an exaggerated nightmare? 

Sometimes I can't tell the difference between the two and for the rest of the day I am on the verge of tears, wrestling with my thoughts and fighting the constant battle to take captive my thoughts and think on these things instead. 

But I keep on fighting, because I know the One who promises victory and knows every one of these memories I can't seem to forget. 

I know there is One who holds every single tear I've cried in the palm of his blood-stained, nail-pierced hand. 

So I keep on looking up, standing firm in this faith, knowing that He is faithful to continue the work He has begun in me, one day and one broken piece at a time.



 

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this week's Bigger Picture Moment.

{Bigger Picture Moments} Rejuvenate: Even If

Photo credit: rwangsa

I've been thinking a lot lately about where I've been.

 I know: I am not defined by my past, but part of healing from the past is to see where I've been. 

 And as I look at where I've been, I see what God has done.

He is the God who heals and the God who restores...and the God who makes all things new.

The more I embrace His mending work in me, the more I see that He has never forsaken me and that His grace has been there all along, even when I couldn't see it.

Sometimes, waking up and feeding my soul with His life-breathing truth is more of a chore.  I open His words and read, but the words seem lifeless and the fire of desire and hunger for Him lies dormant, but still I come.

I seek Him even when it's hard and even when I don't want to.

Because I know that those seeds of truth will not come up void.

When the darkness was heaviest and the storms were strongest, I kept on reading, studying, and seeking.  I got out of bed for one day more even when my body protested.

Because I knew the storms would one day calm and the raindrops would give way to rainbows.

And He was faithful, even when I doubted and even when I continued to break.  He carefully picked up my broken pieces and quietly began His mending work, even when I couldn't see through the flood of tears.

So now, even if the forecast threatens and the storms loom, I know I will be okay.

I know: even if the darkness shadows again, the same God who brought me through once will carry me out again.  

And with that simple truth, my soul finds rest, rejuvenated by the painful memories of days that once held me captive.

The darkness may come, but His power is strong enough to calm any storm and mend any broken pieces.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this week's Bigger Picture Moments.

 

Five Minute Friday: What Mama Did

 
It wasn't the way she folded my laundry, washed the dishes, cleaned the house, or shuffled us from one activity to the next that I remember.  No, my mama was much more than that.  

I remember her sitting in the ER when I was fighting for every breath I took, arguing with the nurses and doctors to get me help now.  I remember her holding me down to take medication she knew would save my life.  I remember her holding me at night, rubbing my back, listening to the wheezing and coughing that seemed to never end.

I remember the day our family doctor told her during a routine physical that something wasn't right.  I remember her driving the two and a half hour drive to see a pediatric cardiologist who confirmed our worst fears.  I remember hearing the words heart surgery and how strong and brave she was when I knew she was just as scared as me.  I remember the hours she spent researching, taking notes at every appointment, and advocating for the best care possible.

I remember her tucking me in, holding me tight, and whispering words of love and affirmation the night before the surgery.  I remember her staying up all night after the surgery calming my anxiety and listening to every one of my fears and concerns.  I remember her lecturing my doctor about pain medication when he took me off morphine and gave me Tylenol, demanding he get me something better for pain or else.

I remember seeing the tears of joy in her eyes the day I became a wife and hearing her shouts of joy the day we told her she was going to be a grandma.  I remember her holding my hand through the pain of contractions and seeing the pure joy on her face when she saw each of three children being born.

I remember calling her on the way to the NICU in tears and her holding me as I cried myself to sleep that night.  I remember how she came to the hospital every single day of both our NICU experiences, caring for me, cooking me meals, offering me advice, and being an extra shoulder to lean on for strength and support.

My mama has shown me what love lived out loud means and taught me how to be strong and confident every time life has thrown me for a loop.  She has walked me through storm after storm and never once given up on me.  She is more than just my mama; she is my counselor, my advocate, my cheerleader, my friend. 

Linking up with Lisa-Jo for this week's Five Minute Friday.

 

Who Am I...That He Should Use ME?

Photo credit: andrewmalone

Moses was going about his day, keeping the flock his father-in-law had entrusted to him, when he saw a burning bush that didn't burn up.  And as he went to investigate, he heard someone calling his name.

"Moses!  Moses!"

Without hesitation, he answered, "Here I am" and God began to speak to Moses the specific purpose He had created him for.  Before Moses was even created in His mother's womb, God knew Moses would be born for such a time as this.

But Moses was afraid.

I've read Moses' story over and over, but lately I've been struck by how similar his response to God's calling is to my own.  Moses responded in fear, questioning God's calling the same way I so often do.

"...Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh 

and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?" 

(Exodus 3:11)

Just like Moses, I know what God has called me to, the specific purpose He has for my life, but I wonder, "who am I" that He should choose me?  I know my failures and I know how often I fall short.  I'm nobody special or significant.  So why would He choose me? 

"...But behold, they will not believe me or listen to my voice, 

for they will say, 'The LORD did not appear to you.'" 

(Exodus 4:1)

I know God's purpose for my life, but I often wonder "what if no one else believes this is my purpose?" or "what if people laugh at me for following Him?".  Who am I to think God would use me in this way?  I would laugh at me...so what if everyone else does?

"...Oh, my Lord, I am not eloquent, 

either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, 

but I am slow of speech and of tongue." 

(Exodus 4:10)

I may have a love for writing, but too often I see the words others write or the way others speak of their own calling and begin to doubt yet again.  "I'll never be that good?  Who do I think I am?  There are far better choices than me, Lord..." 

The more I question, the more I doubt...and the more I doubt, the more I fail.  The real question should be, "Who am I to think God will not do what He says He will do?  If God has called me to this...He will see me through it."


When I voiced my doubts out loud to a friend and my husband, they both reminded me, "How many times did God use people far less qualified than you for His glory?"

If God could use a virgin woman, the wife of a simple carpenter, with little in the way of wealth or influence...how could he not also use me?

If God could use a harlot to protect his people from inside the walls of Jericho...how could he not also use me?

If God could use a shepherd boy to lead His people as king...how could he not also use me?

Time and time again, God used the least of these for His glory, proving time and time again that no amount of wealth or notoriety was greater than Him.

"But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; 

God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; 

God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, 

to bring to nothing things that are, 

so that no human being might boast in the presence of God." 

(1 Corinthians 1:27)

God may call me to a specific purpose, but it's not because of any qualifications I have.  It was never about me at all, but, rather, about the God who is far greater and more worthy than any man or circumstance on this earth.

And, as a friend reminded me, "And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" (Esther 4:14). 

***

Come back tomorrow for an exciting announcement about another step God is asking me to take as I follow His calling for my life. 

 

My God Sized Dream: Creative Soul

Photo by Alita

On New Years' Eve, my husband and I sat up waiting for our littlest peanut to fall asleep.  We talked about our dreams and what we hoped for in the new year.

"What is the one thing you've always wanted to do, but haven't done it yet?" he asked me.

"Write a book..." I whispered, almost afraid to breathe out loud this dream I'd kept hidden for too long.

"Then, write it," he said and as simply as he stated it, I heard God whisper, "Yes, this.  This is my dream for you too."

And then, over and over my news feed was flooded with links to an event with this community. I opened the links day after day, wondering if it was possible for me, the mom times three with a newborn in tow, to go.  Should I even ask my husband?  What if he said no?  What if he said yes?

One night, as I wrestled these doubts, trying to ignore the yearning of my heart, a sweet friend sent me a message.  Any possible chance you might be able to come? she wondered.  It was all the nudging I needed...but, still, what if He said yes?

It would be a two hour drive by myself with a newborn to an unfamiliar place with women I had only met online, a quadruple threat to the anxiety I still fought.  What would they think of me in real life?  Did it really matter?

What if I exposed my heart out loud in a live writing circle, without a screen to protect me?  The pressure mounted and the what ifs threatened, but I know God is bigger and so I stopped, lifted my eyes, and listened quietly for His still small voice.  Take that step, dear one, and follow me, He whispered, and so I followed.

That morning, nudged forward by a friend, my husband, and the One who guides my every step, I walked into a room of faces I'd only seen on a computer screen and somehow I felt at home.  I hugged the one face I'd seen before, a friend who had walked with me through storm after storm, never once giving up and always pointing me heavenward.  I met new friends too and in less than a day I felt my anxieties crumble and my spirit renewed as I took this leap of faith.

As we waited for dinner at the end of a perfect, soul refreshing day, I took another step forward, hands shaking and heart pounding, and shared my dream, the book He wants me to write.  And with genuine smiles, these two, one new sister friend and one sister friend who knows me well, spoke confidence into my heart.

"I can't wait to read your book," they said.

And with a few simple words, I continue moving forward, following this God sized dream, not knowing where He will lead but assured that He already knows the destination.

My God-Sized Dream: Just Write

Photo Credit: Horia Varlan

Last week, I shared my God-Sized Dream here.  It was a huge step for me to share something publicly that is so close to my heart, but I know this is God's heart for me too.

After writing that post, I sat and pondered where to begin.  I sat and I sat and I sat.  Until today.  Because I realized the only way to start is to just write.  Even if I don't know where to begin, I needed to put pen to paper...or, rather, fingers to keyboard...and start writing something.

This morning I got an email from a sweet (in)courager friend that made my heart skip a beat.  I just felt like it was God saying, "Yes. This.  This is the story I want you to write."  I felt this incredible peace after months of wondering if and what God wanted me to write.

So, while the littlest one was snoozing away and the older two were happily at play, I opened my laptop, clicked on Microsoft Word, and started to write.  And it was like my fingers were writing this story for me as they tap-tapped away.

Or maybe God is using my fingers to write my story in a way that will change me and encourage other women someday.  Who knows what will happen next?  God does, because He's had my story written long before I was even formed in my mother's womb.

Linking up with Holley Gerth and a community of women embracing their God-Sized Dreams this year.

 

My God-Sized Dream: Writing My Story

Photo credit: tgifreytag

Last year, I began a new journey of calling this my space to write my story.

I accepted this calling to share His story through my words and began to write the words He wrote on my heart.  

I learned to embrace my calling as a writer and took part in my first Writing Circle.

I also started writing a book, something I've always dreamed of doing...but, somewhere along the way, I got lost.

I started to doubt that I really had a book in me and wondered if this was just a pipe dream...or a God-sized dream.

But enough wondering...and wandering...

It's time to write His story in me and to embrace the God-sized dream He has placed in my heart.  

This year, I'm going to learn to write dangerously, to allow my story to be written the way God wants it written, to finally write down the story (or maybe stories?) He wants me to write.

He has placed this God-sized dream in my heart for a reason...and I'm going to write it.

Linking up with Holley Gerth for a year of embracing our God-Sized Dreams.

Linking up with Heather of Extraordinary Ordinary for her weekly Just Write exercise.

 

One Word 2013: Hope

Last year I began a new tradition of choosing One Word to focus on for the year. It's amazing to look back on how often God reminded me of that One Word. These are a few posts I wrote about JOY, but the word Joy permeated my day to day life throughout the year.

Joy: Heart & Soul of Thankful Praise

You Have Filled Me With Greater Joy

 Fresh Brewed Sunday: Count It All Joy

 Joy Dare: Week 4

As a new year begins, I am grateful that His mercies are new every morning and that there is beauty in fresh beginnings.  One of the definitions for the word new is unfamiliar and strange.  Last year, there were so many unexpected changes happening that I felt at times like I was wondering foreign lands, like Abraham as he left the land he knew for the unknown land God had promised him.

God, however, was not surprised at all by these changes.  Before I was even formed in my mother's womb, He had already written out all the days set before me.  Sit and ponder that last sentence once...because it is nothing short of amazing.

The new year looks to me like a clean slate, a blank canvas, a fresh start...but it is also a future yet unknown to me.  The unknown can be scary and overwhelming to me, but not to God.  He already knows what this year holds and He will not leave me to walk those foreign lands alone.

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This year, as I journey forward to a future I am completely unfamiliar with, I hear Him whisper softly One Word to my heart: HOPE.  And as I ponder that word, I hear the melody of a familiar hymn dancing through my mind. 

My hope is built on nothing less 

than Jesus' blood and righteousness. 

I dare not trust the sweetest frame, 

but wholly lean on Jesus' name.  

On Christ the solids rock I stand.  

All other ground is sinking sand.

As I begin to hum the tune, I think about a verse that God spoke to my heart over a year ago, in the midst of one of my hardest trials.  He reminded me of this truth over and over again, because I needed to remember that no matter how hard or scary life is, there is a hope that is more solid than even the firmest foundation on earth.  And that, my friends, is Christ alone.

"Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?  

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation." 

(Psalm 42:5)

I have a feeling this is One Word that will continue to change me and challenge me throughout the year as I focus on the One who alone is my hope.