Panties... Again

Do you know that horrible sinking feeling when you rush to get ready for the day, and about eight hours later - when you eventually find yourself in front of a mirror, you discover that you have had the most awkward panty line ALL DAY...

Or,

If you find when you come home from, oh, EVERYWHERE, after the gym and you take off your black gym pants to discover that there is a gaping hole in the backside and that your red, red, red panties have been displayed to the universe...

In case you didn't guess,

this happened.

Two weeks ago.

Horrible, horrible discovery!

Or,

When you thought you learned your lesson about talking about panties on a blog, but you continue to do it anyway...

Do you know that feeling?

Actually,

that last one has nothing

to do with that same feeling.

I'm just pointing out the same fact

that you will all notice,

that I should have learned my

lesson already,

but haven't.

Well, I've had that same shivering, heavy, blushing feeling in my stomach for the last two days.

Except the sensation is coming from something much more significant than issues with undergarments.

I've been wearing something that doesn't fit.

Not clothing, but an idea.

When I picked up this idea, this way of thinking, it seemed like the right size.

But just like those pants with a hole in them, this belief has left me exposed.

Today, I discovered that I don't have the slightest idea who Jesus is.

I've loved God and given him a lot of significance in my life, for a very long time.

I am very good at being very Christian.

But today, I realized that while I love God, I have been loving and serving and surrendering to a very secular, and very wrong feeling about who God is.

Here is my problem. My panty line if you will.

I assume God has limited resources.

I put on this idea about God, and try and fit my life smoothly over it.

But the idea is too tight. It doesn't fit. The rest of my life looks bulky and bumpy and ugly, trying to rest over that understanding of God.

When I believe that God has limited resources, I don't ask him for much.

I, the generous and people-pleasing soul that I am, try and ease God's burden.

I think, "I won't ask for much, because God has to save his energy for people who REALLY need it."

I will work really hard, and be really good, so that God doesn't have to do much to keep my life going, after all, he is awfully busy.

The problem is, living that way doesn't require any faith.

It doesn't build relationship.

Or joy.

Or hope.

Or passion.

The idea that God is limited and that my job on this earth is to be one less person who requires something of him is not only ridiculous, it is WRONG.

There is nothing small about God.

There is nothing limited in him.

Quite the opposite.

God is OVERFLOWING.

What happens to my world if instead of trying to make God's load lighter, I begin to recognize his power and ability and DESIRE to pour out on me, and through me to the world?

Well...

The answer is that ANYTHING can happen.

If I begin to believe what the bible says about Jesus and his relationship to his father, and his good gift of the Holy Spirit, then suddenly I have to believe that when the bible says he is able to do more than we can ask or imagine... it really means he is able!

If I ask him to do more that I imagine, and I only imagine an average, uneventful life - sure, God can do more than that. I could have a pleasant and comfortable life.

But what if I asked God for something big?

Am I willing to believe that he could... WOULD... do even more than big?

I met an incredible man this weekend. He prayed joyfully and fearlessly for healing for people around me. Some people were healed, some were not. He said people always ask him, "What if you pray and nothing happens." When asked this question he responded energetically, "What if it DOES?!"

I've been walking around with my insecurities and fears bulging out of what I've thought about who God is. I have been prancing around, swinging my opinions, thinking everything fit, only to discover that my ideas and understanding are unflattering and ill-fitting, leaving me exposed.

Exposed to more fear, more insecurity, more foolishness.

So I'm changing my clothes.

I'm putting on something that fits.

God is not only good, he is able.

He has no lack.

And I am made in his image.

He has instructed me to ASK.

So from here out, I'm going to ask, and I'm going to ask big.

Ask for healing, ask for miracles, ask for favor and joy...

And in case you are getting worried,

I don't want to

"name it and claim it,"

and I don't really have a deep conviction

that I DESERVE

to have over-flowing bank accounts.

Those images

have probably

had something to do with

my retreat from believing

that God is abundant...

I don't want to be that

(greedy, self-promoting, entitled),

so I responded by

not asking for anything...

Stop for a moment.

Where have you been afraid to "bother" God?

What question have you wanted to ask, but haven't felt like it ranks on the list of REAL needs?

What would happen if you asked God TODAY to fulfill that desire in your heart?

You say, "But what if I ask and God doesn't answer?"

To which I respond to you dear friend,

WHAT IF HE DOES?

Pray big.

Flash

Yesterday I had a flash.

Sort of like a firework behind my eyes, only I couldn't see it. I just knew that one moment my mind was dark and the next, truth seemed to be exploding and shining light into the dim places.

It was one of those afternoons when the dread of "out of control" was washing over me.

I was hunting for a piece of paper.

To make a list.

Or four lists.

Or maybe just to make a note of "be better at everything" lest I forget that I'm not living up to my unrealistic and unholy expectations of myself.

One particular relationship in our house has been draining me for weeks. I was tired and worn out by the frustration and consumed by a "fix." The kind of consumed where your mind can't rest. You start by thinking about the problem. And thinking and thinking about it. Then you urge yourself to find a solution so you aren't just one of those perpetual whiners. But your search for a solution takes you on a bumpy road, filled with potholes and signs that bear all of your insecurities and paint in bright colors the fears that YOU, in fact, are the source of the frustration to begin with. So if you want to fix it, you have to start by knocking yourself all to pieces and then rebuild yourself as a new, in control woman.

Control.

When I get flustered, I want control.

I want a list to tell me how to get that control.

To make order.

To own and manipulate.

As I simultaneously lamented my failures and clung to the abilities that I believed could put me back into a sense of controlled, or controlling, well-being, I had the flash.

I realized that when I am overcome by a weight of "out of control" it means that I have tried to take something that is not mine.

When I can't settle into my life and relax in the ebb and flow of my days, it means that I have abandoned what has been very specially planned and saved for me while I'm on this earth and traded it for a heavy, impossible load.

When I take something that belongs in God's hands, and try to trap it into my own, I upset the balance of my relationship with the Creator.

It should come as no surprise that I feel out of control.

I never had control.

And in actuality, it sure sounds a lot better to know that someone who is everywhere and knows everything and can do anything is the one who is leading this pony.

Why on earth would I actively choose to spend my days in a frenzy, making lists to tell me what to do, how to change, what to stop and what to start? Why not, instead, when I feel that so-very-strong temptation to take something that is not mine, could I not realize what I've done and open my hands immediately.

My temptation, when feeling unsettled, is to curl up into a tight ball and hold what I think is mine close to my chest with my body ridged and weary around it. Who would have imagined that the solution would be instead to expand and stretch and open my arms to allow all that is not mine, all that I should have not tried to control in the first place, to go. To be in someone else's hands. To be in the hands of one much more capable than I.

Can I tell you, when I realized this, I was in my bathroom. I was trying to catch my breath and find my bearings and trying to shake off the soul-crushing weight of being a failure at making my life fit into my skewed understanding of "good."

I saw the pop of light and watched the little trickles of glitter fall over my weary mind and my heart that was bruised by the heavy load I had been trying to hold.

I made a decision to open my hands and drop my list and believe that God loves me.

When I left the bathroom, the difficulties were still there.

But so was peace.

I haven't fixed anything. The things that were hard before I went into the bathroom are still hard. The difference is, I feel more agile and sure footed when walking this trail.

The difference is, when I look at the trouble, I don't need to fix it.

My breath comes easily, in and out, trusting that as I take the time to breathe, God is caring, and participating, and holding all that is his, handing me beautiful pieces to look after as he sees fit.

My habit of holding too much has taken its toll, and I am sure that I have some recovering and restoring to do, but I see another way of approaching life. With my feet shod with the readiness of God's peace, I plan to walk in it.

Care to join me?

Trial By Fire

Andy and I have now finished our first week of in-home work. We relieved a couple so that they could have a week off. After a crash-course of how their house worked they handed over their keys and left us to the lions.

I felt a little foolish during training, but I made a special point to ask what I was allowed to talk about on this here blog, in regards to the kids who Andy and I are interacting with.

You will be happy to know that I can still share about this adventure, I just have to be vague in reference to the kids. No names, no ages, no identifying details. I knew, going into this ministry, that I would be working with kid who needed a safe place and a refuge from unhealthy and unsafe families and situations, but until this week I didn't KNOW.

I spent Wednesday night sitting with a young woman as she experienced an intense flashback to the brutal events that brought her to GAP. She was mentally trapped in a memory of abuse. She couldn't hear me, but she gripped my hand as she screamed and moaned. Andy was upstairs with some of the high school boys, and each time they moved or came into view she was terrified.

After a consultation with her therapist I got her a drink of water and lead her, unseeing, to sit outside. As we sat on the porch swing, she calmed down. When she could hear me, I started to tell random stories. Anything that I could think about that was unrelated to the world she knows. I talked about my mom's new paint colors, about moths, about driving to Arizona.

Eventually, she sat limply on the swing, but started to ask me questions. She asked about how Andy and I met, and about school and about why we moved. After a long time of swinging and talking, she said she was ready for bed.

I got her another drink of water and stayed up while she brushed her teeth and put her pajamas on. In the morning she acted like it wasn't a major event and just moved on with her day.

At some points of the week, we felt like we the girlfriend in "The Parent Trap." Kids hid things from us (the phone and remote) they told us tall tales, they frightened us with the realities of bobcats and javelinas (okay, that was just me that they scared)

Javelinas,

in case you are like me and

have never heard of them,

are a sort of wild pig.

Sometimes called, a skunk-pig.

They travel in packs and

are highly aggressive.

They have large, sharp canine teeth

and a gland somewhere on their body

that can produce a stench kin to a skunk.

They eat cactus and small children, so I've been told.

They are blind-ish and as a result travel about at

dusk and dawn.

They terrify me.

They have taken on a mythical quality

of evil and if I see one, I might decide to

scream.

In the course of two days I was told that I was beautiful, and that I was ugly. That I was cool, and that I was mean (said with as much venom as a frustrated elementary school boy could muster). Kids jumped up to help us when we asked, or they jumped up, literally, on counters and couches in an attempt to exactly the opposite of what we asked.

I worked with two elementary schoolers who could barley read and struggled to write.

Andy did impromptu workouts outside and the boys thought it was a treat to do lunges across the driveway.

I prepared food according the the mandatory menu (the menu will have to be a whole other post, or two or three) and I also whipped up food that got rave reviews from the kids. I consider it a personal triumph that in a house of seven kids, from elementary to high school, every child but one ate the asparagus I made and asked for seconds and thirds. And that happened after many cries of dismay when I pulled it out of the grocery bag.

One teen in our care took a special liking to Andy. Though he also like to spin stories and push the boundaries, he seemed to battle within himself - "do I want to help these newbies, or do I want to make it miserable for them?" He did a little bit of both, but when he said, "You guys are weird. I've never met anyone as weird as you." He said it with a hint of admiration and later in the week he casually dropped the suggestion, a few times, that when we have our own SPLASH house we should ask for him to come live with us.

Andy and I both felt like we were able to, by God's grace and strength, to handle each event that came our way. We developed genuine care for the kids we were with and I cherished the moment that the boy who fought with me the most asked me to come read and pray with him before bed.

Both Jack and Joey got fevers while we were there and Andy was attacked by some sort of sickness early in the week. When he went to bed by 8:00, I managed the house by myself and it was fine. I remained healthy until we left and as soon as I was in the car I was struck by what I think was my first-ever migraine. I sat motionless in the van as we drove home. Then I went straight upstairs to throw-up and fall hard-asleep for a few hours. Andy, the champion of all husbands, took the boys to the park and left the house silent for me to rest. When I woke up I felt a million times better and ate a little dinner before turning in early.

At the beginning of this venture I wasn't sure I was going to be able to say that it would be "fun," but after this week, I can say that it will be. I loved almost every minute of this week. I love the kids and I love the staff of this ministry. I love my husband and was amazed again by him as I watched him interact with the kids.

Yesterday afternoon we learned that we may be in our own house very quickly. We toured it and Andy and I both agreed that we could make it our home. It is in the process of being cleaned and stocked with furniture, and though it is not ready our program director said that if she received a call today with a sibling set of six kids, she would send them to that house and tell us to get there ASAP.

Andy and I still are working out how we will make sure to give our boys the individual time and attention that we want them to have, but we feel like we have time to make those discoveries.

Last night, as we both sat with Jack and told stories and prayed, Jack wrapped his arms around our necks and said, in the tone of voice that belongs only to sleepy preschoolers, "I love you guys."

We love you too Jack.

We love you too!

We have today and tomorrow to rest and do laundry and then on Monday we walk into another house. A new set of kids and a new routine.

If you had asked me four months ago what I though of someone who did this job, I would have immediately thought of all of the hard parts. But today, I see the hard parts only in light of the miracle of being able to, even for just a few days, communicate to a child that they are safe and cared for and important.

And that Jesus loves them.

Today, I am amazed.

FAQ: What is a "houseparent"?

Andy has officially resigned from his job.

We are now officially "all in."

His company paid for us to move to AZ, and Andy had agreed to at least a year here. With that in mind, we offered to pay back the moving expenses. Andy's boss, while sad to lose an incredible employee, was very supportive and told us to keep it and leave with his well-wishes. So, now we are jumping through all the hoops and signing stacks and stacks of paper to get us ready for our new adventure.

Yesterday I had to go get fingerprinted. That was exciting!

Actually, it was very boring.

And I went to the wrong place... twice.

But my boys were troopers and stayed polite and pleasant for all three stops. Jack was slightly distressed that my hands got so dirty and for several minutes after we got back in the van he asked me to retell the event, spending extra time and details on the part where I washed all the dirt off.

I realize that I haven't give lots of specific details about our upcoming life.

You may be wondering, "What does that mean, 'houseparenting'?"

You might be wondering, "Who will feed all those kids?"

You are probably wondering, "What about Jack and Joey?"

Well, I will tell you.

Probably not all right at this very moment, because frankly, that might make a really boring post, and honestly, I still am not sure that I am completely clear about what I have signed myself up for.

But I can tell you, in this very post, what Andy and I *think we* have signed on for.

Our eventual goal, after training, is to be the resident parent-couple at one of the ten houses owned and operated by GAP Ministries. We would live there and treat it as if it were our own home. We would have 8 available beds and would probably see a pretty regular turnover in kids.

In Arizona, once a child has been removed from a home by CPS, the parents or guardians have one year to remedy whatever the situation is that caused their children to be removed. When the state removes the child, they call GAP to see if there are any beds available. When there are, a child that comes into one of our houses could be there just for the weekend, while a family member steps up to take the child, or they could stay the full year and later be placed with a permanent foster family.

Andy and I will be responsible for welcoming each child and integrating them into a "home" setting. For some this could be teaching them proper hygiene, it could be modeling a healthy husband-wife relationship, it will probably be teaching them how to live at peace with those in the home, it will mean developing and maintaining a routine for the home - including chores, financial management and solid study habits, and for all of them it will involve managing a lot of appointments (case workers, parent-visits, court hearings, school, after school activities, doctor, dentist, etc.).

The goal of our role really is to create a home and invite children who need a safe place, to participate in the home experience. The ministry we are working with encourages outings and celebrations that contribute to the family vibe. If Andy and I wanted to budget and do the leg work, we could drive our whole house to Disneyland. We can take them swimming and hiking and to the art museum... whatever we feel like coordinating. We can take the kids for pajama rides to get ice cream on a school night if we feel like it! I love that about this ministry, that they put so much emphasis on creating a home and facilitating family.

Before surrendering myself to this transition, I spent some time going over all of the pages I have written in the past of what I want to define our family and our home. What I want us to major on. The things that I feel are critical expressions of who Andy and I are and what we want to teach our children.

I wanted to make sure that those things, that I also feel are God-given, would not be violated by this new undertaking.

Over the last three years I have kept random pages of thoughts and ambitions for my family, my marriage, my parenting... I have kept them all in one place, but haven't actually ever put them all on the same page, or read over them as a whole. As I did so, I discovered two major themes: peace and hospitality.

Those are the words that over and over and over again call to me. They embody what I want of my home and what I pray daily:

Lord, please fill this house with your peace.

Lord, please use our home as a sanctuary for those who need rest.

When I was growing up, my mom painted our front door. It was beautiful. A bright, shiny red frame with the following sentiment artfully written:

Peace to those who enter here.
Courage to those who go forth.
Let those who go and those who stay
Forget not God

Over the last year especially, as Andy and I have transitioned through three different houses, those words have filled my brain. That is what I want my offering to this world to be. A home of peace. Peace that speaks not of my hostessing skills or my cooking or my decor, but peace that seeps into spirits and invites my guests and my family to know God, the Prince of Peace.

With those two words, I feel such invitation to this new ministry. During a short part of our decision process I wanted to run away and say, "not right now." But when I saw those two ideas, in my own handwriting, alive on page after page, I knew that this was right.

What I want for my own children, I want to offer to orphans.

Peace.

Hospitality.

And as I talked to my own mom, and was refreshed and encouraged by HER enthusiasm and confidence in me, I thought, "the kids I am about to meet will probably never hear their mom say what I get to hear from my own mother." If there is a mom who is not able to speak comfort and encouragement, or who chooses not to celebrate her child, I want to do it. I am discovering that mothering, for me, is not just about Jack and Joey. It is becoming about every child who needs a woman to speak gentle words and to offer fresh food and to cheer for all of the little victories.

So for me, that is what I have signed up for.

To mother.

To promote peace and offer hospitality.

Of course there will be all the details of living and of managing and of learning. I expect hurt. I expect frustration. I expect challenge. But I don't fear it. Because over all of those things I know that God is able to do more than I can ask or imagine. And when I ask for his peace to fill my new home and to bring rest to those who need it, I know that I am praying HIS heart and can expect to see his hand and meet him face to face.

Turning Our Hearts

Yes, it is true.

Andy and I are considering being "houseparents" for a truly incredible organization that welcomes foster children into home-models while they are in transition between being removed from their homes and being placed with permanent families.

...

Since relocating, Andy and I have been on a wild adventure of seeing God move in mighty ways on our behalf. It is remarkable what has happened in our spirits as we have made space to listen and interact with our Heavenly Father.

Originally, we decided to move for a "break." We wanted to take a year and refocus and step out of what was starting to feel like a cluttered life.

As our departure neared, and as we have been adjusting to the move, it has become more and more clear to us that while the idea of "something new" was the driving force in our move, it isn't the point.

A week before we left, Andy shared with me that while he felt like he was being obedient to the Lord in pursuing his teaching degree, it still somehow felt selfish. We had built a nice little plan revolving around summers off and comfortable houses and close family. But something was stirring in his heart, causing him to open up to possibilities beyond our plan.

Just two nights before we hit the road, one of the pastors at our church was praying. As he prayed it was one of those, "there is someone here..." prayers. He said that he felt there was "someone who was on a path, a path that might not be bad, but that God was asking them to turn from their path and work for other people's eternity."

Immediately Andy and I both knew he was talking to us. At that point, our move wasn't about a rest any more. It was about waiting to hear what that would mean for us, and opening our hearts to God's invitation to work intentionally and specifically for his glory.

Through a series of divine appointments we have met a couple who currently work full-time as houseparents in a home that serves as a transition place for foster children. They have a family of three boys of their own and currently host six foster kids.

As the husband was sharing what they do, and about the organization that he works for, both Andy and instantly knew that it was our next step to find out more about it. The ministry is called GAP Ministries and after two or three emails the directors asked to meet us for dinner. On Thursday we connected over the phone and I said Andy was off on Tuesdays and Wednesdays and we could meet any time in the next few weeks on those days. She disappointedly said, "You can't meet this weekend?" We made plans for an evening dinner yesterday and at the end of that dinner she said, "We are starting training for another couple on Tuesday and Wednesday if you want to come."

So we have spent the last two days touring houses that host kids (there are 10) and starting the process of training (there is a ton!).

So, the wheels are turning and we are moving toward a MAJOR adjustment in what we thought we would be doing. The ministry is extremely well run and Andy and I are both amazed at the thought they have put into how they operate.

We have committed to waking through the doors that keep opening until we see a great big red light. At this point, I don't expect to see that red light, so we are moving our minds and hearts toward planning to be foster parents for anywhere from 6-10 kids.

The job requires two full-time parents so it would mean that Andy would leave his job.

I feel so unqualified for such an undertaking, but I know that I can't turn away from this - I might be swallowed by a giant fish!!

From the moment we opened ourselves to participating in this ministry, everything has felt like confirmation. From the songs on the radio, to the bible stories I read to Jack, to things that we have talked about over the years that are coming to our minds in a fresh way, to the scriptures Andy and I have been reading on a daily basis.

This is what Andy read the other morning in The Message:

"So here's what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life - your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life - and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it."

Romans 12:1-2

We feel like we are being asked to surrender our "sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking around life" to a whole new way of existing. We are under no illusions that it will be easy or even fun, but we know that this is what we are to be faithful to now.

It is both terrifying and exhilarating to set our feet so firmly on a course that God has invited us to. So, as we continue in the process of learning a whole new way of living, and preparing our entire family for a life of ministry, we would so appreciate your prayers.

In-Between

*Um, I still have only been getting about two hours of sleep at a time (that makes about 7 months of sleep deprivation). I have a feeling that when I read back over this post it will be a little confusing and rambling, but it makes me feel like myself to write things, so I'm just trying to capture things when I can.

I also had a toddler bouncing on my lap the entire time.

So if you make it through the whole thing, kudos to you! Good luck!

...

Most days, I really, really love bedtime.

Some days I love it because it means I will be putting both of my li'l pumpkins away for the evening and freeing my hands for some activity of my choosing...

or the dishes...

but still,

doing dishes with two free hands

is infinitely easier

then doing them

with no free hands...

But those days are surprisingly rare.

What I really love about bedtime is that it is the part of our day that Jack and I both are most familiar with.

It has been the same, give or take a few details, from his birth.

It is a chance to end on a good note.

Some of the hardest days have ended with the sweetest cuddles and nighttime songs.

I also love bedtime

because it reminds me

of one of the most

memorable parts of my childhood.

I remember my dad

tucking me in until

I was in high school.

The stories that he read to me

hold special places in my heart

and I can't wait until

Jack and Joey are

old enough to enjoy them too.

As Jack has been getting older, he's been getting sneakier. He knows how to make me do things that weren't part of my original plan and he gets his way far more often then I would have thought he would.

His new ploy has been to prolong bedtime by asking me to "nuggle" him. If he is feeling very ambitious he will ask to "nuggle on the couch" which I almost always refuse because it will inevitably lead to him asking to watch a show, or eat a chocolate chip or play hide and seek.

And we all know what happens when you give a mouse a cookie...

When the couch request fails he asks me to lay down next to him. I usually oblige while we tell our stories or sing our songs. Recently he has decided that mama's bed is more interesting then his own and will often ask to have his stories there.

Last night, after sitting quietly on the deck and watching the stars and listening to airplanes and cars and frogs, I knew it was time for him to be in his own bed, by himself, with his eyes closed. So when he asked me to snuggle in mama's bed, I lovingly told him that it was time for bed. Then I closed the door and moved on with the evening.

Jack usually is in bed around 8:00. Somewhere around 10:00 I wandered into my bedroom only to discover that my cheeky little monkey had silently crept out of his bed and tucked himself into mine!

With our light still on, he was passed out on my pillow with a book tucked under his arm.

It was one of the sweetest, most charming things I have ever seen.

And for some reason it made my heart ache.

Mothering is so complicated. Complicated seems a much more accurate word then "hard."

There are the tedious parts: the dressing and undressing, feeding, figuring out naps...

There are the disgusting parts: diapers, spit-up, sick babies...

There are the sweet and silly parts: wild dance parties, tickle attacks, funny faces...

There are the rewarding parts: seeing your child learn new skills, words and emotions and hearing them say please and thank you, even when you aren't there to remind them...

But then, there are all those parts in-between.

Last night was one of those in-between parts.

When I looked at him curled up in my bed I suddenly remembered that some day, he will face major disappointments and I might not know the words to make them better. Some day he will make significant mistakes, and he may not choose to tell me about them. Some day, his feelings will be hurt, he will struggle, he will be responsible for his own actions.

The part that is totally captivated by Jack's wonderful personality and is truly enjoying seeing him grow up was face-to-face with the part that recognizes that my job is to prepare him for his adult life.

That is a little bit scary to me.

So while I was bursting with the sweetness of finding my toddler asleep in my bed, I was also sobered by the significant responsibility that I bear as a mother.

I'm not sure what to do with those in-between times, but I have a feeling that I don't do much different at this point.

I keep enjoying bedtime and continue to feed and diaper and play. I watch him, and teach him all that I can about shapes and colors and good attitudes and socially acceptable behavior while playing with other children.

Every day I open my hands a little wider to give him space to learn what he is capable of and remind him that I see great things in him.

I remember that as much as I love him and want to protect him and offer him every good thing, even my best efforts will fall short somewhere.

Every day, as I lead two wonderful boys, I must let myself be led by a parent far more capable and wise and creative then I can ever hope to be.

There really is no other way.

So Lord, thank you for these lives entrusted to me, let me enjoy them, but not hold too tight to them.

There is a much longer conversation here, happening between me and God, but I'm not sure it will be terribly interesting to you.

But I hope, that if you have been enveloped in those in-between times, that I am right there with you. Luckily we serve a God who is never in-between. He is over and in and around and under... covering over all of our lack.

Peace to you in the in-betweens friends.

Where's The Sugar?

I love Jesus.

I love his church.

I love the church despite the fact that it is made up of humans.

And a lot of times humans get things wrong.

Especially large groups of humans all milling about together and trying to humanize holy things.

Joy is holy.

Suffering is holy.

Rest is holy.

Hard work is holy.

...

Somehow, although my mind knows that Jesus invited his disciples into a holy -and HARD- life, my emotions have absorbed the Christian-group-think-candy-coated idea that Jesus makes everything better.

Recently my candy coating seems to have melted in my hand.

Instead of a safe, colorful, shiny and sweet capsule for the melty, chocolaty, palatable gospel, I have a sticky mess.

I'm stained.

Crunched.

Not very pretty.

Not neat and tidy.

The problem is, I'm right where I know I should be.

I am truly confident that I have been following Jesus to the very best of my ability. I don't feel like I'm being punished or paying the price of folly. I feel like I have been obedient and what I have received in return turns out to not be a pat on the back and a full bank account, but rather a forecast of difficult situations stretching ahead of me for a long way.

A small part of me, the part that wants to fit into the acceptable mold of happy churchgoer, is tempted to be disillusioned. Is tempted to feel small, because after all, what kind of press is it giving God if I say I'm following him and my life looks pretty lame right now?

But a bigger part of me feels... I don't even know what yet. I feel like my eyes have been opened. Like I've just accepted a challenge to duel. To fight against the woe-is-mes and the preconceived notions of sugary sweet salvation.

To stand up and say that Jesus is real and loving and life-giving in the midst of struggle. In the midst of frustration. In the midst of mourning. In the midst of dragging my feet and feeling reluctant to face the day because it is likely going to be REALLY HARD.

Jesus is bigger than hard.

Jesus is bigger than disillusioned.

So here I go. Into another day of "this is not what I imagined." It may not be what I dreamed of for my life, but when I said, "Here I am Lord" I meant it. I'll say it again.

Here I am.

I've counted the cost.

Where you lead, I will follow.

Let's go.

The Well

I've been a bit of a crank lately. It seems like I'm extremely prone to irritability and anger, two qualities that don't at all match the way I think of myself or the self that I want to be.

Here is my theory.

Actually, here is the lead-up to my theory.

I enjoy thinking of my life in seasons. My additional word to describe life lately has been "capacity."

When I see someone who is better then me - well, not better than me - but someone who seems to be able to keep more balls in the air or fit more hats on her head, I remind myself that each of us have a different capacity.

I also try and give myself grace when I can't seem to hold as many things together. I recognize that my capacity can grow and shrink depending on the amount of sleep I get, exercise, emotional factors...

I'm in a season where my capacity is very small. I don't get much sleep. I've just moved and am adjusting to an entirely new way of living. I am parenting two small children who require near-constant hands-on attention.

Today I was particularly moody.

That brings us back to my new theory.

In my pondering over why I am having such a hard time keeping an even keel, I thought of a new word picture.

A well.

I can see myself as a well. Deposits being poured in, and water being drawn out. I see all the people and projects of my life standing around the well. My sweet friends are pouring huge buckets of delicious clean water into my well. Jack walks up to the edge and gleefully dumps his little cup into the well, all the while using a giant sized bucket to draw water right back out and fling it on the ground in a colossal tantrum.

Commitments I've made pull water up and out.

Andy pours water in. I draw water from my own well to pour back to him.

In and out.

The water line moves up and down.

Sometimes I'm full to overflowing, sometimes it looks like I'm going to be completely dry.

I think my emotional struggle lies in the fact that I moved from a season where my well seemed so full to a dry spell.

My capacity is small, simply from the nature of my life stage. I am trying to conserve my water, save it for Andy and Jack and Joey, and some days it feels like water is being drawn out of me with huge buckets, against my will. I'm fighting to have enough for everyone, but there just isn't.

I get angry when I feel like my water has gone to something that is less important to me that one of my boys. It irritates me when I have to give them less so that the other realities of life (laundry, grocery lists, complicated relationships) can get a few drops.

This picture shed some light on my mood, but it also brought me to the solution.

I've been trying to keep my well full on my own. I try and conserve where I think I can. I monitor everything that goes in and comes out. I stress when I see the levels getting low and I get giddy when I've just received generous amounts of water poured back in.

But Jesus said, "Whoever believes in me, as the scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him," and, "... if you knew the gift of God ... you would have asked him and he would have give you the living water."

I've been trying to live fully on lifeless water. The only solution for my dry well, is to fill it from a source that never runs dry.

Oh Lord, forgive me for trying to keep my well full on my own. I've been stingy with my water where I could have been generous. Please fill me with your living water and teach me to give it freely.

Unbelievable!

I found myself today shaking my head in disbelief. How can God love me so much? How can he provide so fully for every need? How do I manage to forget that he cares for me when I am so constantly reminded of his provision?

Two weeks ago Andy unexpectedly lost his job.

He called me and let me know he was coming home early and why. My first reaction, before he got home, was tears. Mostly because I'm pregnant and a lot of the parts of my body seem to function on their own accord.

Despite the initial flow of tears, my overriding thought was, "This is okay."

Andy got home and I heard what happened and we talked and we both felt the same way, like God had something amazing in store and that better things were ahead. What could have been a crisis, either to us as individuals or in our marriage, is instead an opportunity for a new adventure.

So much has happened in my spirit the last two weeks. I have grown in gratitude for my husband, who loves and trusts the Lord. I have seen scriptures that I skimmed over in their familiarity come to life in new ways. And I have experienced the grace of God - the kind of grace that makes me draw a breath and worship in amazement.

We don't know what the next step will be as far as employment, but we do know that our landlords have offered to let us live, RENT FREE, indefinitely. Our other expenses are covered for the time being through unemployment. Not only has God seen fit to provide for our practical needs, he also prompted an acquaintance of ours to gift Andy with four tickets (face valued at $300) to the Apple Cup (a dream for Andy!) next weekend and an additional gift from some dear friends that means we don't have to stress about buying Christmas presents. The same day another friend dropped by two nights worth of dinner complete with desert and sparkling juice.

Who am I to deserve such love?

Who is this God that I serve that provides so much more than I can ask or imagine?

What is ahead?

I don't know what is next for us, but it truly must be something wonderful. And even if it doesn't seem wonderful right away, I will celebrate that my God is good and loving and faithful and generous.

God is good.

On Guard!

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."

Proverbs 4:23

The past few weeks I've spent a lot of time in my own head. Thinking, asking questions, reading, recognizing themes in my life.

I am always seeking to find balance in my life. On one hand it feels like a never-ending chase and on the other, it feels like a worthy goal and admirable lifetime pursuit.

All of this introspection and meditation has led me to the Proverbs and to other well-known scriptures. It has been a refreshing few weeks of re-learning to love God's word and ingest it, so that it slowly becomes part of my person.

Proverbs 4:23 is one that was really "popular" when I was in high school. In a lot of scenarios it felt like it could be interpreted as "Above all, guard your virginity..." But now I'm a married woman and sex is good and right and wonderful- and this verse is still in the bible! It didn't disappear, so it must still have value for those of us who aren't guarding our lady-gardens.

I've been pondering and praying and hoping that I could understand what it means. The wellspring of life sounds like a pretty crucial part of living, so I figure it would be worth some contemplation.

And here is what I've discovered in my life: I need to guard my heart.

Are you amazed?

Brilliant, I know.

Rather than guarding my heart from a premature relationship or romantic infatuation I need to guard my heart from:

Unrealistic Expectations

Fear

Jealousy

Self-obsession

Greed

Dissatisfaction

Flippancy

Hard-heartedness

...

These things creep in so quietly, and are so culturally approved, that I don't even notice that they have taken up residence in my thoughts and emotions until I am in the midst of a melt-down or am thinking cruel thoughts toward someone I am supposed to love.

When I am obsessed with my own expectations of how an event should work, or how Jack should behave, the life drains out of me. When I focus on what I don't have rather than what I do, my days feel long, lifeless and always wanting.

So, if I want the wellspring of my life to be overflowing and fresh and sweet, I need to be actively guarding against those things that would strangle my heart. When I am disappointed because Andy didn't say just thing I wanted to hear, I need to guard my heart from bitterness. When I look at a friend who seems to have it all together, I need to guard my heart from self-criticizing. When I make my Christmas list, I need to guard my heart from greed and envy.

At each turn of the day I have to be on the lookout. It is so much easier to stop something from taking hold of me than to loosen a thing that already has a grip. But at whatever point, it needs to be done. I want to be a woman who overflows, whose spring produces clear, refreshing water. Water that revives, nourishes and heals the lives around me. And to be that, I need to guard my heart.

Lord, please teach us to be on guard. To be active in filtering out those things that want to gain access to our heart, but don't bring us life. Shine your light on the righteous and reveal the things that carry death. You are good.

Between Me and God

"He tends his flock like a shepherd:

He gathers the lambs in his arms

and carries them close to his heart;

he gently leads those who have young."

Isaiah 40:11

That is what I need at this moment.

Gentle leading.

I have been trying to push myself. To lead myself. But not gently. With guilt or with pride, or even with anger some days.

But my leading is erratic. I take long detours. I am not well planned. I try to show myself the way and I get lost.

And tired.

And sad.

And confused.

But here is the light. I KNOW that shepherd. I am part of his flock.

And I have young!

So I get to be led gently. I get to follow someone who knows what the heck is going on!

And someone who has compassion on me in this season of my life.

I don't have to do the packing. I don't have to make the plans. I don't have to schedule a babysitter.

This trip is one that is all taken care of.

I get to follow the gracious leader.

Do you hear that?

It is a sigh of relief.

It is me setting down everything that I packed "just in case" and realizing that all the things that I need have already been taken care of.

The other great thing about gentle leading is that it implies that I am still going somewhere.

Mothering a toddler sometimes feels quite restrictive. Choices seem limited and most days I spend more time doing things that "empty my tank" than things that fill it. Sometimes I just feel stuck, like I've ground to a halt as a woman, as a wife, as a person in general.

But not so!

If I am being led (or more correctly, if I am following) that means that I am on the move. Somewhere. Anywhere. I don't know where. But I know that I'm not stuck. I'm not frozen. I'm not paralyzed.

Oh Lord! Thank you for your grace. Thank you for your compassion. Thank you for taking a life that has begun to feel lifeless and breathing your strength into it. You truly are a glorious God.

Fulfillment Reading

Today, I was at MOPS and the speaker, a woman who is on the other side of parenting young children and is now enjoying her grandchildren, was talking about perspective in mothering.

She made a very brief comment that she thought that she "was taking her fulfillment reading too often" as a young mother, and I was totally struck by that concept.

I get discouraged on the days when I am messy and tired and feel beyond inadequate to parent. I wonder why I am not totally in love with each day I get to be Jack's mom. Some days I struggle to show the joy and gratitude I have that I get to stay home with Jack. But I know, that despite the frustrations and disgusting things I touch, I really do love my days as a mother. 

It may be that I am just "checking my measurements" a little too often. In the same way that if I stepped on the scale every hour of the day, I could see huge fluctuations in the number based on what I've eaten, when I last used the bathroom and what I'm wearing, my mood and the filter I see my life through, is going to change daily, even hourly.  It is probably going to change based on those very things that make my weight bounce around. 

My perception of my life and myself is imperfect. While I like about myself that I am introspective and ask questions of my motives, emotions, and thoughts, I need to remember not too put too much stock in ME. I will fail.  That is a given.  I will be overcome with joy. I will get the giggles. I will cry. I will overreact. I will enjoy simple pleasures. I will make great discoveries and forget lessons I thought I had learned. 

My sense of fulfillment is going to change each moment.  It just is. So I need to learn to not gauge my life by my senses. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. Where I am fickle, he is steady.  Where I am ignorant, he is wise.  Where I am overwhelmed, he has overcome. 

I know that I am emotional and erratic and illogical on occasion.  Thank goodness I serve a Savior who is steady and solid and trustworthy. 

So today, I look at my fulfillment reading and instead of saying "full" or "empty" it says:

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

...neither weight gain nor weight loss...

...neither feelings of inadequacy nor feelings of self-importance...

...neither repetitive tasks nor great adventures...

...neither financial fears nor great wealth...

...neither obscurity nor fame...

 Nothing in all creation, will be able to separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus. 

Pleasant Learning and Three Side Notes

I'm learning.

This morning could have been disastrous. The door to one of my kitchen cupboards maliciously jumped from its hinges and attacked me.  It now lays (lies?) peacefully on my stove, waiting for Andy or the landlady to return it to its home.  I am out of chai, my morning kick start. The baby I watch on Fridays came over in a grouchy mood. Our car appears to be on its last leg.

I could have sent Andy a text message telling him that the cupboard broke, but what can he do about it at work?  I've learned that if he can't do anything about it from where he is, then it just frustrates him, and I don't get the compassionate response I'm looking for.  So, the door news can wait a few hours. 

I'm out of chai.  I have been for three days. For the first two hours of the morning I pined away.  Hoping that miraculously someone would offer to bring me a Starbucks.  I even considered getting annoyed that nobody had offered.  After all, I posted my plight on FB, shouldn't all my friends come running with caffeinated beverages? No? I'm really not that self-inflated, but don't even try to tell me that you have never found your mind wandering down that path. So, instead of becoming irritated, I whipped up a pretty good imitation of an iced latte to satisfy my need for a sweet, cold, creamy, caffeinated start to my morning. 

The cranky baby (who I love dearly and am glad to have come over once a week) finally went to bed and Jack found his rhythm

Side Story:

That is the first time,

I think in my whole life,

that I have typed or written

the word RHYTHM

without needing spell check.

I love the word,

but for some reason I can

never

ever

remember how to spell it.

I always want to use a

U.

What?

Spelling is not my strong suit.

Obviously.

for the morning.  He is now playing peacefully in the corner with some blocks. My house is quiet except for the sound of worship playing in the background and my fingers clicking on the keyboard. [Amendment: Before I finished this, the cranky baby woke up still cranky, so my house is quiet except for the music and shrill whining and intermittent crying and Jack talking to the other baby asking him why he is so cranky.]

Also,

Jack has his first scraped knee.

He is officially a boy!

He didn't even cry.

What a tough guy!

Our car, our car. A few days ago it started overheating if I drove it more than, say ten minutes. I drive a pretty impressive beater.  I am actually still driving my first car. Since this anyway. It has been a trooper of a car. No real repairs needed.  Or maybe just one.  I can't remember exactly. But it really has just kept going and going and going. But now we are at a place where we need to decide, do we spend our money on fixing our junker or do we spend a little bit more and get our vehicle for the next few years? 

While all of these decisions could have been an opportunity for marital strife or "I'm right, you're wrong" attitudes to settle into our conversations, it hasn't been that at all. I am learning more and more how to trust my husband and his process for making decisions. I know when his strengths are not my strengths and I think he is learning the same. We're learning to show each other courtesy and respect and we are learning together to trust God for his best. 

When our car started overheating I asked Andy if he was worried and he simply said, "No. It's God's car." Oh wise husband of mine. 

I'm learning how to worship and study God's word as a wife and mom (sheesh, how 'bout it takes me a year of motherhood to even start to get this figured out). I'm learning how to love. I'm learning how to make space in my life to hear the Holy Spirit and space to enjoy the life I am living today.

I feel like I say the same thing over and over.  But I am a slow learner I guess. Each day it feels fresh. Each day feels like a new chance to see God's faithfulness or see my own attempts at a "good life" fall short. 

I hope that I am always learning.  I hope that my character is being refined and than my attitudes are becoming more and more in line with the attitudes of Christ. I hope that I don't measure the quality of my life by "happy" but rather by joy, contentment, peace, obedience and love. 

I hope that I remember this all tomorrow when I wake up.

I give you permission to remind me if I start sounding a little cranky or forgetful or selfish. 

Third and final Side Note:

I was talking to a sweet friend

earlier this week.

I think I was complaining.

I was processing.

Asking questions.

You know how girly conversations go.

And she,

with no apology,

no preamble,

told me I was being selfish.

That is what real friendship looks like I think.

Thank you Allison.

Deep Breath

Let's have an honest conversation, shall we?

Being a mom is hard. 

Being a wife is hard.

Being a woman is hard.

Being a Christian is hard.

Every day is full of a bombardment of lies masquerading as truth, relationships and their perils, emotions that come from nowhere.

It would be untrue if I told you that I am always happy, always put together, always godly, always tactful, always loving, always healthy.

It would be much more accurate to tell you that I ate a brownie for breakfast (again) and immediately felt guilty, or that I ran three miles last week and felt on top of the world only to remind myself that it really isn't that far, or that I want to write and make things beautiful but I'm scared that the things I create don't matter. 

It would be painfully transparent to confess that I daily have to remind myself to keep realistic expectations about my marriage, that I struggle to be inspired as I read my bible, and that I feel so small in this world. 

But there is beauty in struggle.  I can see it.  I can see the sun coming through the windows. I can see rain feeding the desert.  I can hear Jack laughing at some small pleasure that I have missed because of my grown-up responsibilities. 

This morning I was talking with a friend who has been processing difficult emotions and struggling to see where truth is in the midst of pain.  And I was reminded of how big God is.  Of how wise.  Of how compassionate.  

He is not caught unaware by my emotional surges or my questions or my confusion.  He is not ruffled by my anger or indifference or forgetfulness.  

He loves me, not just in spite of it, but through it.  He is present and active and attentive.  He is not distant, just giving a passing grade.  He is near.  Teaching, holding, laughing, weeping.  My Jesus.  My Friend.  My Companion and King.  

I can't say that I know where to go from here.  Or that I have a plan of how to love Jesus more, or make things easier.  I sort of wish I knew those things.  I like the feeling of control that a plan of action gives me.  

But I don't need one.

I know that Jesus has a clear vision for me, for my days, weeks and years.  He sees where I intersect with other lives, how I influence decisions or the development of a precious child.  He sees so much beyond what I can even imagine or comprehend, that for today, I am not even going to try.

I am simply going to trust him and love him.  

Let him lead.

Let him love me.

I am going to be still and know that he is God. 

Ahh. *big breath in*

It feels so good. 

Spoken To

Yesterday, after a day of trying to reconcile my emotions to truth, I walked into church and was handed this note by a sweet friend:

"Emily, there are dreams and visions in your heart, put there by God himself.  Write them down and continue to trust the God that will complete the amazing stuff he has begun in you."

Accompanying the card was a pocket-sized notebook with "ideas... can change the world" on the cover. 

Immediately tears started to roll down my cheeks.  My sweet friend came over for a hug and told me how the gift came about.  As she escaped to Starbucks between services (she's an employee at our church and Sundays are super busy for her) for some quiet time, she saw the notebook and "just knew" she had to get it for me.  In her words, it was one of those "Holy Spirit Moments." She felt silly, but did it anyway.

I can not tell you how amazing it was to be reminded that God cares for me.  For the teeny, tiny details of my life.  

While I love motherhood, it has changed the way I dream.  Where I used to see endless possibility, I for some reason now see roadblocks and insignificance. I struggle daily to see my activities as worship, not as worthless. 

I get trapped in the smallness of my life and forget that God sees so much further than today.  

More significantly than that.  I think I also forget that God CARES.  But he does!  He sees me, he remembers me.  He is responsible for those dreams that I keep tucked away.  And, if I were very, very honest, I might say that he doesn't even want them to be tucked away, that some of them are for now, and I am just too afraid to believe that. 

In October I wrote this.  It is still fresh in my life.  I still need to remember these truths.  

My prayer for us - as women, as wives, as mothers, as lovers of Jesus - is that we would see what God is doing.  That we would see beauty, in ourselves and around us.  That we would be courageous and know truth.  That the world would be changed because of women who believe God's promises.  

I hope that today you are encouraged and that you allow yourself to be reminded of God's care.  The small things matter.  You matter. 

Peace and Joy to you friends.

Longing

Okay, so I know I just posted the pictures of Jack's haircut and you are probably thinking, "Emily, why didn't you just make one post instead of two different ones?  Silly girl."

Well, you are right about the silly part, but I do have a line of reasoning that at one time sounded logical to me. 

I'm not sure about that now.

You can judge:

1. My last several posts have been VERY long and I was trying to practice brevity today.
2. I thought I would save this post (not all the explaining part, but what will come) for tomorrow so that I would have something to entertain you with, but it won't leave my mind so I have to do it NOW.
3. I wanted to tell you about Jack's trim, but it didn't really flow with my other thoughts.
4. I'm just like that some times.
   

So here is what I have been thinking: 

Do you have in mind a way that you find yourself asking God to use you?  Is there something that just calls to you, but you know you can't tackle with your own strength?

That might not be clear.  Let me try again.

For example.  Do you really wish you could influence high schoolers to develop a sincere and deep relationship with God?  Do you ask God to give you the gift of healing, even while at the same time you would be terrified if he actually did?  Do you long to be used to lead individuals to a place of intimacy with their Creator through worship?

I long to be used.  But I am afraid of it too.  To open myself up to be sent, to be available, to be obedient means that I relinquish control.  It means that my actions would reflect GOD's glory, not feed my own selfish ambition.  It means that I might see miracles and I honestly don't know how I would respond to signs and wonders.

I love Jesus.  I am grateful.  I pray, read my bible and journal.  At the same time I am immersed in a culture of depression, cynicism and judgment, not to mention the "I did it my way" mentality that is so forcefully promoted.  To be called by a big God means that he might actually do big things around me.  I might be "that weird Christian girl."

That is just a tiny bit scary. 

But it is what I crave.

I know that I honor God by loving my husband, by stewarding well what He has given us, by praying over my baby.  I also know that my faithfulness with the little things is essential.  I can't help but wonder though, will I ever be trusted with something bigger?

But big and little are my own definitions.  I am certain that God does not see the impact of me cheering on my husband as any less important than a pastor preaching to hundreds or a worship leader writing a beautiful song.  My scope is so limited.  God sees the ripples that go out from my obedience and, to HIM, they matter.  

If I could choose where to be sent, I would choose hurting marriages.  It feels foolish to even say.  Andy and I have been wed for two years, which is not all that long, but in those two years I have been so challenged and rewarded.  I have seen how easily bad habits form and I have experienced the deep joy that comes from being in a unified relationship.

We have all heard, "marriage takes work." No matter how much it is touted, it is still ambiguous.  What does that mean? What kind of work? 

I think, by God's infinite grace, I am starting to understand.

I hurt for husbands and wives who seem burdened by their wedding bands.  I am pained to hear sharp criticism come from the mouth of a woman toward her spouse, whether he is present or not. I am crushed to see my peers buried in busyness, obligation and performance instead of filled with life and freedom.

A sense of urgency has been growing in my spirit.  It cannot wait until I am "more experienced" or "older" or whatever.  If my spirit is stirred, it is called.  

Yet I am still afraid. 

I think that fear is good.  It reminds me that I, Emily, will not be the one to change marriages.  I, Emily, will not be the one to speak truth.  I, Emily, am simply a woman who has opened herself to Jesus Christ to be used as HE sees fit.  

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom..." Proverbs 9:10

"Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity."  1 Timothy 4:12

So I set forth today, acknowledging to you all that I have opened myself up to God's lead in a fresh way.  Until I see the next step, I will stand tall in my youth, inexperience and fear, and believe that God is my god and he is delighted to send me. 

Your prayers are greatly appreciated.  

Red Shoe Revelations

On Saturday the snow was starting to melt, but because there was so much of it the side streets and driveways were treacherously covered in dark, gritty slush.  

Gross.

Very gross.

I had planned to meet my good mommy-friend at, where else, Target.  We both had money from Christmas and were eager for an excuse to get out of the house and swap mommy stories.

On Friday I had ventured out with Lizzie to spend some of my aforementioned Christmas cash.  I had found not one, but two dazzling red shoes on super clearance.  

Exhibit A: Deep red flats bejeweled with huge, bright gems ($10).

Exhibit B: Shiny ruby heels ($12).

That brings my red shoe total to three, or four if you count my satin zebra slippers with red leather accents.

Is that terrible?

You are probably wondering if my revelation from God was that I had too many red shoes.  It wasn't.  Whew!

Maybe he is saving that for another day. 

I hope not.

Anyway....

You know how it is when you have new things to wear.  You want to show them off as soon as possible.  And, seeing as how I was cooped up for weeks and weeks and weeks (maybe I'm exaggerating, but only a little) I was excited about the prospect of being SEEN.  It seemed like a good occasion to christen my new footwear.

Because it was a simple outing and I only expected to go from my car to the store, I donned the flats.  Sure there was still snow on the ground, but by Saturday it was very melty, remember?

My house to the car.  Fine.

My car to the store. Fine.

Inside the store, waltzing around.  Dazzling.

But then we added a trip to my bud's house.  She warned me that her parking lot was a mess and impossible to navigate with the said slush.  But never fear, there was a "trail" from a nearby strip-mall that would take us right to her door, and the public parking was much better for little cars. 

Great!  More visiting time!

It turned out though that my bejeweled shoes were no match for the muck.  My first step out of the car landed in a puddle up to my ankle, completely submerging my new shoes in dark, oily, ice-cold water. 

EWWWW!

The trail was no better. With each step, I saw my new, sweet slippers darkened, smudged, sullied by the snowy wasteland.  

I considered crying.  I considered whining.  I considered forgoing the whole visit in an attempt to save my shoes.

But my heart heard a little whisper.  "They are just shoes."

Okay, I realize that that may not be a major revelation to most of you.  But in the process of coming to terms with the mess that is motherhood, I have taken refuge in fashion.  I like looking together.  I like being "that mom" who makes it seem so easy.  

There is nothing wrong with looking good.  Or with my glittery red shoes.  But there is something wrong when they own me. Which I confess was starting to happen.

So as I sloshed through the puddles, and watched the toes of my shoes blacken (you can see it in the picture) I just smiled.  

I was with my friend, headed to a warm cozy house. I could have mourned the wreckage of my purchase, but instead, I choose to let it be.

We had a yummy lunch, lots of laughs and a successful hair-dying.  I would have missed out on so much had I been absorbed in the state of my shoes.

I wonder how many other moments in my life I need to say, "They are just shoes."?  "It is just..." I don't want to be a woman who is blown and tossed by the winds.  I want to be steady, secure, sure.  I do not want to be distracted by disappointments and miss the joy that is waiting to be lived. 

Exhibit A, the flats, were just the first taste of my realization.  The heels took their turn later that evening.  But I think, that part of the story will have to wait until tomorrow.  

Stay tuned for Red Shoe Revelations: Part Two.  

Tomorrow.

I promise.

John 10:10

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

I have confession.  In the last weeks I have fallen victim to the thief.  What has he stolen?  Joy, confidence, acceptance, energy, peace.  What has been left in the wake? Fear, guilt, anxiety, sadness, confusion.  

I was weak and I let the thief walk away with my dreams and hopes.  I barely put up a fight.  I don't think I knew what was happening until they were gone.  

The thief is a master of disguise.  In a season of life where mothers are expected to be tired, overwhelmed, distanced from spouses, and even depressed, I accepted the changes and didn't question.  I assumed they would just go away.  

But here I am.  Seven months into motherhood and discouraged.  I battle daily to find simple pleasures, to approach another load of dishes or laundry, or sometimes even Jack, without grumbling, to LIVE THIS SEASON TO THE FULL.  My thoughts turn sour at the slightest bump.  Instead of my usual optimism and confidence in God's love and provision and my ability to hear him, I assume the worst.  I assume that I am alone, unwanted and doing everything wrong.

It hurts.  It feels crushing.  I almost want to give in.

BUT I WON'T.

Jesus said he came that "they might have life, and have it to the full."  That EMILY might have life to the full.  

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1

"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." 2 Corinthians 3:17

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control."  Galatians 5:22,23

"... I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10

I was reading in Genesis last week and came to the chapter where Abram and Lot are about to part ways.  God says to Abram, "Lift up your eyes from where you are and look north and south, east and west.  All the land that you see I will give to you... Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you." Genesis 13:14,17

I distinctly heard God call me to look up from where I am.  In the middle of the day, I see a dirty house, a needy baby, dinner to make, not enough time to enjoy the company of my husband... those things discourage me.  My feeble view of the future looks like more of the same for awhile, instead of the life of adventure and purpose that I crave.  

But God sees all of the north, south, east and west.  He sees it ALL.  He knows where I am now and he knows what he plans to give me.  It is going to be more than I could ever even think to ask for.  

So his challenge to me?  To Go. To walk the length and breadth of the land.  To love him each day and to flourish in the midst of diapers, in the midst of loneliness and in spite of the foggy future.  Just GO.  Live it up.  Thrive.  Set down roots of faith in him and obedience.  Keep my hands open to receive daily doses of the joy and peace that I need.  Live with gratitude and endurance.

This season, this battle, this daily fight to accept the gift of full life, is necessary to shape me for the things God has in store.  Truthfully, that knowledge doesn't really make it feel any easier, but I have to learn that my feelings aren't always going to reflect the truth of who God is and how he's working in my life.  They can be a tool, but I've been relying on them too heavily.

So now, on to the art of living.  God, please seal this truth in me.  

Courage to you friends as you look north, south, east and west and as you go claim the land God has promised you.  

The Chase

I wonder how many hours and tears and thousands of dollars I have spent in the pursuit of beauty.  

A lot of days (maybe... almost, most days) I feel like I keep my beauty cravings in check, but then a day like today comes along and I am reminded of the true state of my heart. 

Today was haircut day.  I intended to just look at a few pictures of styles before I went to my appointment, but before I realized what I was doing, I had spent an hour looking at pictures of Victoria Beckham's beautiful hair AND perfect face AND sculpted body and losing every ounce of confidence I've ever had, all the while forming a list of the items I simply must acquire to up my beauty quotient - none of which I actually need. Why do I so easily buy into the culture of beauty when I know it is not what I want? (actually, I really do want to be beautiful... just not in that worldly, expensive way)

The hope of coming home more lovely than I left is always there on haircut day. Sometimes I cry when I realize that a trim didn't change the scale or shrink my nose or give me more money to buy all of the high-fashion accessories that I crave. Sometimes I keep my head and heart straight and just go about the business of getting my hair cut.  And every so often I am able to be totally pleased with me, just the way I am. 

Today my hair turned out fine... but not like the picture of Posh (ya think?!).  I confess that left me disappointed.  Silly girl that I am.  Maybe one day I won't be won over by that foolish hope and cruel disappointment, but today, again, I was.

But here's the crux: 

I serve a creative God.  He thought of and executed everything beautiful on this planet.  I firmly believe that my love of beauty starts as something holy, delight in what He has crafted and designed, but it quickly becomes distorted, misplaced and cheap.  Instead of being in awe of HIM, the creator, I identify the creation and admire, verging on worship, it.  I want it to be the other way around.  I want to be transformed by the creator, not transfixed by the creation.

Oh Lord, please forgive me.  Change my heart.  Give me a new measure of beauty.  Make me aware of what influences me and what I allow to speak into my heart. Strengthen me to live in a way that admires beauty, but is not consumed by it. Thank you for your faithfulness.  And thank you for all things beautiful.