Open wide your doors!

This Christmas, my goal was to keep it simple. I typically put up two trees, one with white lights and one with colored lights. But this year I gave myself permission to not...and it feels so good. I picked three areas to focus on, no more, no less. My front porch. Our family room Christmas tree. And my dining room table. That's it.

My front porch was inspired from a store front. The minute I saw what the store owner had put over her front doors, I knew I would do it over mine. The ribbon reads "Open wide the doors, that the King of Glory may come in. Psalm 24:7". Don't you just love it...is there not a more perfect scripture verse in all the Bible?

The store that inspired the verse, had embroidered the ribbon that read the bible verse. Well that wasn't in my budget, so I used a gold Sharpie paint pen and it worked just fine.

And with the "King of Glory" as my theme, the crowns were added to my wreaths.

Our Christmas tree:

The only other space I decorated for Christmas was the dining room table. It is a collection of candles, plants, over-sized trumpet ornaments, and ribbon. Most of this I already had, and I just clustered it all up together and called it a centerpiece!

And finally, because these three darlings that are visiting Santa are mine, and because one of them is about to have a birthday this week, and because they are about to be out of school, and because I haven't bought the first Christmas present, Playing Sublimely is closing up shop for the rest of this year. But oh how I hope you will join me the 1st of January! Darcy has been working her magic on some renovations and we plan to be up and running with a new look by the 1st of the year. There will be a few changes in store for us around here, and I can't wait get back into writing in 2011! Merry Christmas my sweet friends, and won't you open up your doors wide and let a whole lot of Glory come in this Christmas season! There is a sweet baby in a manager that I want to draw close to these next few weeks. I adore you all and will see you in January!

Much love in Him,

Linking up with Kelly and The Nester this year!

The One within the pages

I wasn't kidding last week when I told you I was struggling. Oh how serious I was being with you...and I'm still struggling. My Mom called last week and said "I can tell you are about to lose it". She is a few hundred miles away, but she can still tell when her daughter is about to come undone. But there is something surprisingly therapeutic about writing (especially when you feel called to it), and I always feel a little less crazy after expressing my feelings here. Even more so when I hear back from someone that says they are in the exact same place. It's not a "misery loves company" kind of comfort, so much as it is a "you have a friend next to you treading water" kind of comfort. There is hope in that. There is comfort in not feeling like the only one. My girl Jill (that I have grown to adore through this world of blogging), wrote to me in response to my disturbing admission that I sometimes consider putting down my dog and said "if it makes you feel any better, almost daily I consider having my dog put to sleep and then strategically laying her in the road like she got hit by a car. You are not alone" . I laughed every time I thought of that the rest of the day. Tell me you do not love her! Her dog recently brought her the leg of a deer, and then she had to play tug of war with him to get it out of the his mouth. Now that is a woman who deserves to wrestle with thoughts of wanting to put her dog to sleep for bad behavior.

This comfort of "there is someone right next to you treading water", is what I love about the Word of God. There isn't a feeling that I am experiencing that cannot be ministered to somewhere within those pages. From start to finish, that Book is packed full of comfort and encouragement. I have been telling you in recent weeks that I am currently studying both the lives of Moses and Esther. I always fall in love with the characters that I am studying in the Word. The first time this happened to me was when I was studying Abraham. I went into that particular study, dreading it a little (because how exciting could Genesis really be), and I came out on the other side of the study unable to get enough of it. At that particular season of my life, I could so identify with the struggles in that first book; and at this particular season of my life, I can so very much identify with Esther and Moses.

And what I find time after time is that at the root of it all, when you trace the source of the comfort back to it's origin, I always find that the One in which I am actually identifying with, is the One that wrote the story. It's not necessarily Moses' screw up, and his fleeing Egypt that I find comfort in; but rather the One that He met when he finally collapsed in the desert at The Well (Exodus 2:15). It's not Esther's great dilemma that encourages my heart to trust, but rather the One that was in the heavenlies orchestrating the entire course of events above her. His Name is the One that brings the comfort through struggles. It's the way He faithfully ministers to the ones within the pages that illustrates His character, and begs me to come and rest, and to trust that time is in His hands.

Mighty to Save

The folders come home from school with my girls every Monday. If I'm being real, I kinda dread them a little. I can expect to park myself in a chair for about 45 minutes every Monday and read, and read, and read; and then pray, and pray, and pray that I will not forget all the information I am supposed to know after all the reading. These folders always come bursting with artwork as well; and from time to time a masterpiece emerges from the monotony, and this overwhelmed heart of mine stops and smiles. It happened this week with Caroline's art...
Did you know your Daddy is mighty to save too? He is the author of your salvation, He wrote the story. He knows the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. He knows all the ways we mess up and fall short, and He knows how desperately we need a mighty savior. We tend to think we are only worth saving when we are like my Caroline, young and innocent and drawing pictures about how her daddy is her hero and saves her. And then we grow up and start thinking that God sees us differently. We start believing that He sees us like we see ourselves: shameful, guilty, less innocent adults that have wandered from our daddy's side. We start believing that He is mighty to save all the others more deserving of His strength. We forget what He has done for the prodigal son...or in my case, the prodigal daughter.

If a girl's life can have a theme song, then this song is mine. I need to know that I do not have the one mountain that my God cannot move. I need to be reminded that He rose and conquered the grave, not for a few elite, but for those like me, and for you. For "The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing" Zephaniah 3:17. Oh how He adores you sweet friends...

The Voice of Truth is telling you to Shout!

The more I read of biblical giants, the more I stand in awe of my God. For none of these characters that I have been studying started out as giants at all. Moses wasn't born a leader, Joshua wasn't born a courageous conqueror, and David wasn't born a king. There is a common rhythm to which each of their hearts beats, and God doesn't want you and I to miss the tempo. Each of these men stepped into a life they never dreamed they would live. They were born anything but what they became. God does that with the willing, He creates in us a heart more like His, if we will allow Him. These men were called to extraordinary circumstances and through faith, they fulfilled their calling.

I was reading the beginning of Joshua's story last night, and I couldn't help but catch something that I know was very intentional, something God meant for you and I to cherish as a gift. The scene is this: Moses had died and Joshua had been selected by God as the new leader of the Israelites. He had an enormous task ahead of him...finally leading God's people into their promise land. So what does God repetitively say to Joshua three times within the first chapter: "be strong and courageous". That tells me something about the state of Joshua at that time...he wasn't feeling strong and courageous. He was getting ready to lead an army into a land occupied by "giants". Joshua was among one of the spies that Moses sent to explore Canaan, he had seen the men that occupied that land, he had experienced 40 years of wandering in the desert, and 40 years can do a lot to a person's confidence. Though he and Caleb were the only two spies that were trusting in God's ability to deliver them into the promised land, 40 long years had gone by at this point. And after all, Joshua was only human. Those 40 years had to have created in him doubt and fear. I wonder if he was starting to question the task at hand. I can't help but think he was, because God doesn't waste words, and 3 times He told Joshua to "be strong and courageous".

We know that God's word is alive and active, it is as relevant for us today as the audible words of God were to Joshua while he was standing outside the promise land preparing for battle. That is so very encouraging to me in my daily walk toward my calling. I am not expected to in my own strength be strong and courageous. God understands fear, He understands doubt, but He also very clearly understands who He is. He knows that the battle we face is already won. He knows that the enemy we are up against has already been defeated. God is confidently sitting on the other side of the tomb telling you and me, "I promise, you can trust Me, believe me when I tell you that I can do this".

God has taught us through Joshua that we are called to faith in the One that is capable. We are called not to our own strength, but rather to trust in His strength to knock down the walls at Jericho. All God is looking for is a few good men and women who like Joshua will say "Get your supplies ready. Three days from now you will cross the Jordan here to go in and take possession of the land the Lord your God is giving to you for your own." Joshua 1 :11. Won't you be one of those women that bear His name and march into your promise land with confidence! I speak to myself as much as I speak outwardly to you. I don't want to keep wandering around in the desert, not when I know my God is handing over to me a divine land that He has set aside for me.

There is a young mother of 4 at my children's school that was recently diagnosed with cancer. I do not know her personally, but I think and pray about her often. And through the communication of others that do know her, they have told me that she is fully trusting in our God to bring her through this. I am so impressed with that. It is one thing for someone like me that is not being faced with an immediate Canaanite army staring me down to say "trust God and be strong and courageous", but when a mother of 4 that is fighting cancer can confidently make such a claim...it is worth listening to. Don't you just know that God is looking down on her saying "That's my girl!". She, like Joshua, has been met on the battle field by the One that is capable of winning the war. They were met on the edge of their promised land by the God that has already delivered the land to them, and by the God that is still promising us today that He will never leave us or forsake us. It's His voice of truth that we are called to listen to. Tune your ears to His voice dear friend, He is telling you to march into your Jericho and "Shout! For the Lord has given you the city!" Joshua 6:16. And then watch as your God does amazing things, for He has given you a front row seat to watch the walls of your Jericho tumble to the ground.

Oh how He loves you

We took our girls to see and worship with the David Crowder Band last night. Though Caroline fell asleep halfway through the concert, it was still a sweet time. And so as I needed reminding last night, I wonder if you too could use reminding today. Do you know that He is jealous for you? He sees all that we too often fill our time with, and waits and longs for you to draw near to Him. Do you know how great His affections are toward you? Greater and more powerful than that of a hurricane. Do you know that you are His portion and He is your prize? He is your great reward! And if His grace is an ocean, then my friend you are sinking in it.

Oh how loves you! Happy Friday sweet friends!

Stop Doubting and Believe

His story really starts many years before he was born, because his story started with my story. I was wrestling with disbelief and fear and depression. I was wrestling with all things in the world that are horrible like 9/11 and cancer and suffering. I went to church and tried hard to have the blind faith that I was supposed to have. Because believing was supposed to easy, right? Those that really believe, those real Christians, never struggled with blind faith. It was easy. So where did that put me? Because I was struggling.

And then one week the struggle was overwhelming. I remember crying and wondering what if we are all just wrong? What if He really never did raise up from the dead? What if I really am not redeemed after all? What if there still is a record of all my wrong? What if? I walked through my church doors that Sunday with all my "what ifs". And in case no one has ever told you, that is exactly where God loves to have you. God delivers the broken and the disheartened. He meets the needs of his people that cry out to Him.

That Sunday my beloved pastor preached on Doubting Thomas, on that Sunday my God met me right where I was and told me to stop doubting and believe. He is a personal God, who desires a personal walk with you. He doesn't miss or overlook the sufferings of His people.

Fast forward many years later to when we found out I was pregnant with a son. I knew his name would be Thomas. He is my personal reminder of the grace and patience and love and deliverance of my God. It is rare that I say my son's name and do not think of that Sunday when God stood before me with holes in His hands and said "Put your fingers here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." John 20:27

Today my Thomas turns two. What a blessing his life has been to us! One day our God will stand before him with the same proposal he had for me that Sunday, a proposal of rest if only I would believe. He stands before all of us at some point in all of our lives with that proposal. May our responses be that of the no longer doubting Thomas who responded with "My Lord and my God". Won't you stop doubting and believe.

A high privilege?

Being a mother is a high privilege, but it doesn't always feel that way. And in the midst of my current parenting struggle, I am reminded of Jesus' mother Mary. When the angel Gabriel promised the birth of Jesus to Mary, he proclaimed that she was highly favored (Luke 1:28). But then there came the time when Simeon prophesied about Jesus' life, and told Mary that one day a sword would pierce through her very own soul (Luke 2:35). I wonder which truth Mary was pondering as she watched her son die on a cross? That of a high privilege? Or that of a her heart that was feeling the agony of a sharp pierce?

Though the example is indeed an extreme one, the illustration is still clear. A high calling, or a high privilege, doesn't always translate into joy and happiness. Please do not misunderstand. God is always working for the good of those that love Him, and God is always in favor of those that fear Him, and God does indeed promise eternal joy and peace...but He has never promised an "easy calling" here on this earth. In fact, I dare say He never has. For He doesn't call us to that which we can accomplish on our own. We are called to that which must be done by and through Him. We are called to that which will reveal His glory, and His power, and His strength, and His ability...not our own. So why is it that we as parents sometimes forget this in our parenting? For the high privilege of raising a child, must first begin in the low posture of praying for grace and strength and mercy and wisdom.

Are you struggling in this privileged walk through parenthood? This last month has been an ongoing struggle for me, and just this week I finally dead-ended on a street that has brought me face to face with my own limitations. As it turns out, I am not the perfect parent that my kids are in need of. A shocking revelation...I know. But thankfully, He never intended for me to play that part in His script of my life. And instead of me desperately trying to play a false role, He would rather I just sit at the foot of the cross and ask for His strength to do it right.

Have you rested from all your parental laboring at the foot of the cross lately? You would have lots of company there, if you chose to come and stay awhile. I dare say that mothers make up the majority of the population sitting in the dirt at the cross. And in this instance, it's a good thing to be a needy, desperate, broken woman. As long as what you are needy, and desperate, and broken for is the One who can fulfill your every need. Come join us beneath the cross.

A psalm worth believing

The same God that knit you together in your mother's womb, and watched you while you were in your secret place... still watches over you today. The same God that knows the number of hairs upon your head, and has more thoughts for you than the grains of sand...is thinking good thoughts of you this very second. Your God knows your path, and hears you when you cry out to Him. Resist the tendency to allow your emotions to dictate whether or not you believe that your God loves you; as our feelings are sometimes false. Even if you do not feel loved, know with great certainty that your Father in heaven adores you beyond comprehension.



Walk through your Monday believing Psalm 139, you won't be able to resist smiling.

The Proposal

Today you will find me at one of my favorite places, I am guest posting for my sweet friend Emily. Come and visit us over at her place: Chatting at the Sky. I would be honored to have your company...

Are we missing The Creator in the creation?

It is difficult for me to imagine vacation to look much different than an ocean crashing against a sandy seashore. For me it is nearly impossible to separate the two, as having time to unwind so often accompanies the sun and surf. I suppose I could blame it on my upbringing. I was raised in a coastal town, and I spent every summer with my toes in the sand. I know what it means to love the beach and long for it's quietude.

But while flipping through a magazine on my most recent visit to the shore, I came across an article that I immediately began reading too much into, and therefore allowing it to burden me in a way that the author certainly never intended. She was calling her readers to spend time this summer acknowledging the wonders of the coastline and to "renew our bond with the beach". She described our beaches as "beautiful and peaceful, strong and majestic, alluring and rejuvenating". Though I do understand the spirit in which she was writing, and though I cautioned myself at being overly cynical and critical, I couldn't help but want to scream "the creation is but a reflection of the Creator!". Yes, the coastline is peaceful and majestic and strong, but it is such things because it was intended to show that which is our God. Our calling to a bond is not with the ocean in all it's majesty, but to the One that is majestic. We are not called to the peaceful and rejuvenating waters of the sea, but to the One that is able to rejuvenate with an everlasting peace. We mix this up so often. I look around at all the blessings that God has poured out over me, and I often find myself unintentionally worshiping the blessings rather than the One that has given them. It is so easy to do if we are not diligent to guard ourselves from it.

I long for quite time at the beach every summer, but if I am not careful I will end up walking away unfulfilled. Because to experience the ocean without experiencing and knowing it's Creator, is to miss the point. To sit on the beach and not remember that we are but a speck of sand in God's story, yet know and trust that He still loves and cares for us, is to miss the point. To watch the waves crashing against the shore and to not remember that Jesus walked across them and then calmed the waves by simply speaking, is to entirely miss the point of the waves existence all together. To sit on the beach and not be moved by the Creator, is to just sit in the sand and get hot and sweaty.

And of course, all this wonder isn't reserved for only the coast. To see a rainbow and not remember His promise is to miss the blessing.
To see a full moon rise over the heads of your children, and to not acknowledge His power and authority, is to entirely miss an opportunity to be humbled.

And to watch a sunset in your backyard and not faithfully trust that the sun will rise again tomorrow (after all, the sun is but a copycat of The Son who rose again just like He said) is to completely miss an opportunity to worship.

To miss the glory of the Creator in all the glory of the creation, is to just miss the point. If you visit the beach this summer and attempt to renew your bond with the sand, it is going to leave you still longing for something more. Renew it instead with the One that spread the sand against the shoreline, the One that filled the sea with water, and then your thirst for peace will be quenched.

Sharing my gift today with Emily and all the sweet friends over at Chatting at the Sky. Come join us!

He loves me, He loves me not

He loves me, He loves me not...I am so guilty of this. Every time I think I am past it, doubt and insecurity march right back into my life and cause me to begin questioning what I believed just one day before. It is as though the path that I am on with the Lord sometimes resembles more of a track, we just keep looping around the same path over and over again. I desire our road to look more like a path through a meadow; maybe one where the morning dew still floats atop the grass, and the sunlight causes it to glisten and reflect a golden glow. Or maybe I envision our walk to be down a beach, calm and serene, yet at the same time powerful and majestic. But often all I can see is black concrete underneath my walking shoes, along with metal stadium seats packed full of onlookers mocking my lack of progress. I hear what they are saying even though they are whispering, I hear their condemning words. Do you ever feel this way? Do you ever feel like you spend way too much time plucking the petals off daisies, allowing your emotions to swing back and forth between "He loves me and He loves me not"? Do you ever feel like you are looping the same track over and over again, wrestling out the same issues with God? Do you ever feel drained from your apparent lack of progress? I do, and it can be exhausting.

There is a glimmer of hope that I cling to when discouragement begins to weigh down my spirit: God wrestles with those that He loves. Do you remember Jacob? He had buried himself so deep into the ground that there was simply no way out for him. His brother (that presumably desired to kill him) was approaching with an army of 400 men. To say that Jacob was discouraged would be an understatement, He was terrified. And so he wrestled through all the sin that had brought him to where he was...and he wasn't alone. God was right there with him, wrestling it out, just waiting for Jacob to humble himself before his Maker and accept his blessing that the Lord desired to give him.

When you are feeling your walk with the Lord keeps bringing you back to the same place, consider the possibility that maybe you and God still have some wrestling to do. Consider the possibility that it is not that God doesn't love you that you find yourself back at the same place again, but rather that He loves you too much to let you move on before you have received His blessing. Though our flesh tells us that we are back at this same place again because we will never be free of our sin, allow the Spirit to speak a bolder truth over your situation. Maybe God is just waiting for us to humble ourselves enough to receive the blessing that He has set aside for us. Believe Him when He says He loves you. His Son has the scars on his hands and feet to prove it.

The sick dog

My daughter has been sick. Sick with the kind of illness that requires a mother to say things like "do not breath on anyone, touch anything, or even make eye contact with your brother and sister". I pulled out the Lysol, the bleach, and the gloves, and did my best impression of a quarantine. Of course I failed miserably as within an hour Thomas was walking around drinking from his sister's cup. I tried control, it didn't work for me. It really never has.

But sometimes sickness can be the gift. We dread it of course, even pray against it, but sometimes only in our weakness do we still ourselves long enough to acknowledge our weakness...and then subsequently acknowledge His strength. I'm speaking as someone who has no authority to say such things with any pretense of expertise, as from a physical perspective I am healthy and well, having never walked the path of a true and painful illness. However, I walked briefly along side of a friend once that carried a 6 month old baby girl in her arms, and also a terminal and aggressive tumor in her brain. During one of our visits she stated quite plainly, "I am grateful for the cancer because it has drawn me closer to Jesus". She considered the cancer, a gift. While I with little strength and faith was crying, falling apart, and mourning her before she was gone; she was still and grateful. Even today, I am not sure that I believe such a true and wise heart to be possible. I sing songs about trading my sickness for the joy of the Lord, and deep down I feel it ringing true for me only metaphorically. Can it be that God reveals himself to the weak, the sick, and the humble, in a far greater way than to those of us that walk with false perspective of our wellness? Could it be that we are the ones missing out on His glory? Could it be that they are the chosen ones to see His mighty strength, and that if we could taste it even for a moment, that we too would say things like "I am grateful for the cancer"?

After I gave up attempting to control the sickness in my home, I allowed my Ella out her bedroom and into the playroom. In the midst of her subdued play, she sat on the floor and constructed a model home for her stuffed animals. Though she wasn't attempting comedy, I couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably on the inside at what she had created. Oh the poor "sick dog" outside the gate. We all pity that soul that has been moved outside, the one that has been forced to live outside the "right" of what life should look like, the sick one. But perhaps there are a few "sick dogs" outside the gate that would not choose to be locked back up inside the pin for anything in the world. They have tasted the stillness and the strength and the glory of the field outside, and they are the ones looking back in...pitying us. Have you ever dared to consider that?

Linking up with Emily at Chatting at the Sky to unwrap this gift...

Great Expectations

I was on plane several months ago, and I sat in front of a woman who was sitting and talking with a friend. She was preparing for her son's high school graduation, and she was explaining what a great kid he was and how blessed she had been. My sentimental heart got the best of me, and my ears perked up to listen to what would surely be a long resume of impressive actions that had this proud momma bragging. She said "he never got into drugs and he never got any girl pregnant". For me, it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the plane, and I began frantically looking up for the emergency air bags to drop from the overhead compartment. My cynical side wanted so desperately to turn around and look this woman right in the face and say "seriously?!?!?". But my overriding personality of avoiding an uncomfortable situation at all cost took over and I just sat there. I was sad. I was sad for her and her son. But I think I was generally just heartbroken for our generation.

This world tends to oppress. It oppresses the tired and weak, and it preys on the ones that love, and on the ones that are loved. It preys on the ones that need love, and the ones that think they are not loved. It is the arch nemesis of love and it desires to defeat all that is love. And since God is love, this world we walk through each day certainly is an enemy of God and his people. But what sort of people have we become that we are proud of those that have done nothing more than "not gotten into drugs and have not gotten anyone pregnant". I realize that I know nothing more than a quick polaroid shot of this woman and her son. Maybe she comes from a long line of drug users and to her, this was a major victory. I can understand that. It would be a major victory, certainly in this day and age where drug use is so prevalent. But what I would dare to argue is that my God is bigger than overcoming and breaking family histories. Oh he is capable of it, and willing to show his power through such an accomplishment, but he is so much more than that. And for some reason, I just don't think those were the circumstances of this woman's story. I think this woman had so lowered her expectations of "good", that to her, the landmines that her son had avoided had become his defining attributes of greatness.

I think I am guilty of this too...are you? I often find myself expecting much less of a situation, than I know in my heart God is capable of delivering. Are you in a current situation where you are counting on God to deliver something mediocre at best. Are you asking him for the bare minimum of what you can handle. Are you asking him to get you through something only by the skin of your teeth? I pray you will hear me when I say this to you, God is not in the business of delivering mediocre. He couldn't do it even if he wanted to, for he cannot be less than he is. In fact, he tells us he is "able to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or imagine" Ephesians 3:20. So what are you asking for? Is it something great, or minimal? Are you praying that your children would grow up safe and healthy, or that they would grow up to be strong, bold, and confident witnesses of Christ? Do you see the difference? And this is only the part I can imagine and think to ask for...he is capable of even greater things than these for his blessing overflows for those who love and fear him.

I am very aware that there are days where we are too weak to pray for greater things. In fact, there are some days that it is a miracle that we are praying at all. I don't mean to appear self righteous over that. I have been there. Believe me when I tell you that I have known a deep low, a low where even low expectations would have been better than where I was. But I feel like that credits me the right to speak boldly about the power of Christ and expecting great things. The next time your eyes look towards heaven in prayer, think big. Boldly approach the throne of grace, and in the name of Christ make a bold request. He didn't bring back to life the dead, and roll away the stone of defeat, so that we would meekly approach him in request to accomplish the ordinary. He isn't ordinary. He desires you to have great expectations of his capabilities and power, it is proof that we are believing him to be who he says he is. Start expecting great things, expect the extraordinary.

For the love of...love.

It was 9:30 and they should have gone home to study for exams. But then someone started talking about movies, and then someone said 'Leap Year' was the greatest movie ever, and then someone popped popcorn, and then someone else went to the store and bought candy, and then I said okay and pushed play. What is it about a love story that will quiet a room full of girls? Part of it is certainly the Irish accent of the main character. That's never a bad thing. But it's more than that, I think. It's the surprise of the relationship, and the tenderness of his commitment. It's the realness of his attitude, and the rawness of his emotions. Somehow it all comes together in a scruffy package of dreaminess and they all sat in my family room swooning. Or maybe it was just the accent...we really could have just stopped the movie after he uttered his first words.

What romance these girls desire, and oh how they love a love story! God most certainly wove into their souls a longing to be a part of something that includes a white horse, a pretty dress, and a good man with an accent. Which got me thinking. God doesn't create in us a pure desire that He himself cannot satisfy. He made us girls lovely and captivating and lovers of love as a counterpart to the perfect One who can quench that longing. So I guess what I am trying to say is, we know that God will indeed come back on his white horse, and we know that he gave us a lovely white dress to wear as his bride, and I am now convinced beyond measure that God will also have an Irish accent...and I can't wait to hear him say my name.

Truth and the Liar

Change is hard for me. It sneaks up on my world every time, and I tend to not see its' relentless, approaching march for two reasons. One is that I am far too disorganized and scatterbrained to know that the day has come for change to happen. It is that phone call coming in on the line where you look at the Caller ID, and it jolts your memory that you are supposed to be somewhere other than in your house answering the phone. The second reason change is often a surprise is that I tend to simply ignore the reality of its presence with an "ignorance is bliss" kind of attitude. If I pretend it's not happening, and I pretend I don't feel it's presence, then perhaps 'change' isn't really staring right at me.

The end of the school year is upon us. I have longed for the days of summer for several months now. The ease of not having to load three children into the car for carpool at 7:25, or not scrambling to find something edible in my pantry to throw in a lunch box and call nutrition, and not having to endure the torture of learning to phonetically code a word during homework every night... it's things such as these that I have been waiting on. I have anticipated this time, and now the time has come. The marching troops of change have finally arrived on my doorstep, so why was I fighting a lump in my throat as I read Ella's last newsletter of the year?

Could it be that the joy of living is in the mundane, everyday moments of life? Could it be that to deny yourself the gift of packing lunches is to miss the face of God entirely? I think so. I think it is a lie that we believe all year, "oh if I can just make it to fall break, then there will be down time". Or "once we get to Christmas break, then we can all relax and enjoy our time together". Or "once summer is here, things will seem less hectic". It's nothing but a lie. It speaks against Truth that tells us "this is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it" Psalm 118:24. The verse speaks nothing of only rejoicing in the day, if you don't have to drive carpool. The Liar comes to deceive and rob us of the joys that come with a car packed full of children on their way to school. He would like nothing more then for us to live out our days looking for what tomorrow might bring us. What a thief He is.

As I read Ella's final newsletter I smiled as I saw her memory verse for this week "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. Against such things there is no law." Galatians 5:22-23. It's strange, there is no mention of anticipation or anxiousness here, and yet I live out so many of my days pretending as though that is the spirit that is alive in me. I know that ultimately the Spirit of Truth will be the one that prevails, but along the way we grow weary fighting battles that we were not meant to fight. For the love and joy and peace and patience and kindness and goodness and faithfulness and gentleness and self control of the Spirit has already slain the anxiousness and anticipation of the Deceiver. I should really stop returning to the battlefield of what has already been conquered, and just get on to the victory party with those who believe. Because the party banner they have hung reads all the fruits of the Spirit....and they're partying whether I choose to believe and show up or not.

Thanks Emily for allowing us to unwrap our gifts here.

Discerning His Voice

This might have been the best part of my recent trip: a breakfast smoothie by the pool, looking over the side at nothing but ocean, and a good book. My husband was sitting next me with some awful book in his lap, something about guns, the mafia, and witness protection programs...not my choice of a good read. I told him "don't come crying to me when you are not able to discern the voice of God". He rolled his eyes.

How about you, have you read Priscilla's book? I am almost done with it, and I must say that it has been a needed read in this phase of my life. The phase of life when you are busy raising little ones that are always busy, thus making my "life equation" equal busy all the time. The phase of life when if you don't get in the shower before 5:30 am, it is likely that your body will never see water that day. The phase of life where you are constantly needed by a lot of little people that are all moving in different directions. You know the phase, right? It also happens to be the phase where I have found it difficult to hear the voice of God. Now please do not misunderstand, this is my problem and not God's. He is there, He is always there...the problem is that sometimes I am the one not present. I am too often anywhere and everywhere other than in God's presence; quiet, still and humble. And after awhile I start to long to here His voice and I begin to slow my days so that I might hear it. If I don't, I will eventually drown under all the stuff that has risen to the top of a false priority list. I begin to clearly see that stopping and slowing is the only way to really survive, to really hear the voice of God.

Do you know Him?

I know at Christmas time we sing "It's the most wonderful time of the year"...but I don't buy it. Don't get me wrong, I do love Christmas. Christmas is full of grace and giving from our God, but do you ever sense a blanket of sadness over it? There is just something about His lowly, humble, poor birth that makes my heart feel heavy. And then there's His life, though there certainly were times of happiness, what a burden. What an emptiness He must have felt to have left the splendor of His Father in heaven, seated high on His throne, flocked by angels and praise, only to come to a dark place and know the life He was going to live.

But then there is Easter. I know that you are thinking if ever there were days of sadness, the days surrounding Easter would certainly be the most sorrowful; but my heart is not heavy this time of year. It's not that I am unaware of the suffering, or skip over it quickly just to get to the empty tomb. I get it, I get it as much as my simple, earthly brain can wrap itself around the majesty of it all. It's just that I get the urge to stand up and clap, rather than sit in sadness. Do you know what I mean? There is something so wonderfully incomprehensible about Easter morning to me, that my heart wants to leap out of my chest. Can you imagine being Mary at the tomb and seeing that the body was gone? Can't you just see her standing outside His empty tomb "weeping" John 20:10? And can't you just hear her heart pounding with joy when Jesus calls her name, "Mary" and then she responds in exclamation now knowing that it is Him "Rabboni!" John 20:16? Can't you feel it? My sister's name is Mary and I have heard her say that this is one of her most favorite verses in scripture, because she can here Jesus saying her name. She can identifying with Jesus meeting her at a place of sadness and saying her name...I like that. And though I'm a little jealous, He really is saying my name too, as well as yours. He meets us right in the midst of our broken lives and calls out our name.

So as we approach this holy week, get excited! Pick up your baggage, your junk and all your messy sin and start walking up that hill to the cross. If you are like me, you might have a few suitcases full, it doesn't matter. Throw one over your shoulder, and tie a rope around the other ones so that you can drag the whole line of them up that hill of Calvary; and once you're there, have a seat. Actually, we might be better off if our faces were face down in the dirt...if you know what I mean. And then just rest, rest in what He has done for you on the cross, because Jesus said it himself "It is finished" John 19:30. Believe Him.

So in the words of Dr. Lockridge, "Do you know Him"? What a week to meet Him if you don't! And for those of you that do, I hope you have a chance in church on Easter morning when you can stand up and applaud, for He has accomplished mighty things for you!

Happy Easter,

A Tuesday reminder

It was a quick reminder early this morning of His faithfulness. A blooming tree in my neighbor's yard. I am not sure that I have ever longed for a spring to come more than I have this year. It has been a cold, hard winter for the body and the soul. I suppose it's due in part to the age of my children. It's a busy age, and though it's lovely, it is also tiring. So this year, though I attempt patience, it looks more like excitement. Excitement that the long days of summer are drawing nearer. Excitement that the bare trees are stirring inside because their Creator is starting to whisper "wake up", and so they obey. Excitement that very soon my kids will be chasing fireflies again in the summer evenings in the backyard, and this year Thomas will be old enough to try and keep up. Excitement that my God choice my broken heart to take up residence in, and that this morning He sent me flowers on a budding tree...just because He loves me.

Linking up with Emily today to unwrap my gift.

My Bride-Groom

This day was a gift. It was a gift in the midst of 2 very busy lives that rarely have time alone. This breath-taking, beautiful fall afternoon in Paris with my husband was a lavish reminder of God's love...and I have been thinking a lot about love today. I have been thinking a lot about how love doesn't always shine on us in beautiful settings like this one. In fact, I dare say love is often most beautifully revealed when life isn't as picturesque as it was this day in the French countryside.

On this Valentines Day, I haven't been able to get my mind off one of my most favorite love stories. A story that when I heard it retold by this author I was studying, I found it hard to keep my composure. It is a story of love and redemption, and in short it goes like this...

She was young and in a terrible relationship. They were on again, off again, on again, off again. Each time she was with him she felt guilty for participating in such a sinful relationship, and when she was apart from him she longed to have back the sense of security she thought he gave her. And then she got pregnant. Now what? What would she do? How could she live with that? She was a Christian woman (teaching bible study) and living a very different, secret life behind closed doors. So she chose abortion, and then hated herself even more, and finally left the man for good.

Then she met another man, a godly man that she fell in love with. He too fell in love with her and she feared everyday that he would find out about her past and her sin. She drove herself mad with worry and fear, everyday fighting the conflict inside her. She loved him and wanted him to know about her life and past, but knew that he would turn and run in disgust at who she really was inside if he ever discovered the truth. And so she hid and suffered until she could not take it anymore. She recalled the day she told him the truth as terrifying. She paced back and forth in her living room saying over and over again, "I just have something to tell you and I am so afraid". She had herself worked into such a knot of hysteria, when finally she couldn't take it anymore and blurted out all the truths and realities of her past, in full anticipation of his immediate departure. As she finally gained the courage to look up at him, he was on his knees, and he said, "Will. You. Marry. Me."

What a perfect heavenly reflection of the Father's love for us, and may I boastfully say for me. Though my story isn't the same as this woman's, it contains the same predicament, a desperate girl in need of a loving Savior. For He knows all of our dirt, all of our garbage, all of our tangled messes. He sees the lies of our lives, and the darkness of the pits from which we dwell. He sees deeper than our freshly pressed clothes, new manicure and flat ironed hair...and loves us regardless. And as if that isn't enough, He goes deeper and more intimate still, and says to the one on her knees, trembling with fear, "Will you marry ME?". And so for that I am grateful and eternally in love with my Bride-Groom.