That time I got to spend 2 days in the hospital...

So I have had 3 babies. All delivered via C-section. Not my first choice, but it is what it is and life travels on. So, the only time I have been a patient in the hospital is snuggled with a newborn and a 6 inch belly incision. Let me just say, adjustable hospital beds?... the bomb dot com. Especially when you have a 6 inch incision and a newborn in one of those little clear bassinets. I swear that bassinet is "the man's" way of introducing you to the new ways in which you will contort your body to reach your baby. It starts with bassinets in hospitals, moves to the awkward angles you dare not move from, lest you wake the sleeping princess, and continues on to shoulder dislocation reaching into the back seat from the front in your minivan. It's a slippery slope people.

So, I was admitted last week and diagnosed with "bronchitis with asthma exacerbation." I have looked those words up and separately I understand them, but smoosh (yes, I said smoosh) them all together and I'm sort of at a loss. Apparently, I have asthma now? As a adult who has never had any kind of breathing issues....ever. That is a topic for another day because now that I have my laptop back and I'm not supposed to leave my bed, the research gene has been initiated and my keyboard is on FI-AH (that's "fire" for those who don't know my penchant for re-writing words.) I'm calling some environmental or food allergen out, but don't have enough evidence for a conviction yet.

So I have been laid up for 6 days now, either in the hospital or at home. Unable to walk around without coughing and doing nebulizer treatments, steroids and all manner of lovely drugs. On a side note, the boy-child absolutely loves to turn on the nebulizer machine for me. The smoke billowing out of the mask makes him almost as happy as a cookie....almost.

Last night, I missed celebrating Christmas with the hubs and kids and in laws at Camp Tejas - an apparently super cool Christmas spot near our home. Lights, Fireworks, Inflatables, fake snow and sledding. So I was bummed. And I texted a friend about my bummy-ness (see, more made up words).

Her response went a little something like this:

For now, this is your "new normal." It's like being impatient for your kids to speak and once they do they never stop. God has made you STOP for a bit. Rest in His goodness to you. Life will continue on the other end of all this. Press on precious one. 

So, of course, this got me to thinking about resting. God proclaims Sabbath rest as one of the 10 Commandments. So obviously it's important. I mean, He named it up there with don't murder. DON'T MURDER. DON'T STEAL. DON'T LIE....and REST.

Why does it seem so difficult that God could favor "the rest" over "the work?" Does anyone else struggle with this? In our society of drivenness and self-sufficiency, it seems so counterintuitive that He could align the need for rest with the need for not killing someone. Obviously, the consequences for those sins will be different on earth, point being, God sees rest as vitally important.

I feel like I so often embrace rest as a failure or as "less than" the work I have in front of me. We mamas tend to do that, don't we? The kids NEED us. We push past the pains of tired eyes and aching bodies and minds that are wearied to the bone in favor of folding that last pair of size 2Ts. Don't get me wrong, a strong work ethic and drive are essential for a successful and full life. But He calls our rest vital. How do we reconcile that?

How do I reconcile that for the last 6 days I have not played any games, poured any milk or changed any diapers (well, there was one...)? How do I reconcile that the lack of work is God's idea for me in these days? That His plan for me is to lay in bed. That somehow He can take this illness and make it glory? I don't have answers. I've read books, watched the Braverman's (oh bless the creators of Parenthood!), coughed 'til I'm sore, had migraines, slept and slathered myself with essential oils. And somehow, He will be able to use even this...even THIS... for His glory?

In my pride, I want His glory to be found in my selfless dedication to my children. In my pride, I want Him to shine through my singing or writing or effective disciplining of my children. I don't want Him to shine through the countless women bringing meals and caring for my kids. My American self-sufficient, sin-ridden, prideful self rises up against that. My sin nature bucks the sweet rest that this army of servants have afforded me in this hour of need.

If I'm honest, I want Him to be found glorious in the things I do for Him. Deep down, I don't know how to handle it when He chooses to find glory in how others serve me or in the times when I fall utterly feeble. I want Him to be found in my strength, not in my weakness.

And then, He speaks. Clear and quiet with a calm that rushes over my soul....

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

Oh Lord, may I always be found to rest in Your perfect will and timing. That You alone know what is best for me and that You Lord receive glory from this life in whatever ways You choose.

Guest Post: Dancing in the Rain

As you may or may not have heard, I was in the hospital last week. Bronchitis with Asthma Exacerbation...apparently I have asthma now?! What. The. Heck. I want a second opinion.

Anyway, I'm home and resting. And I wanted to share that I got to guest post last week over at Red Tent Living again. Love those writers. They do all the good feels for my soul.

Check it out....riiiiiiiiiiight.....oooooooover......here

More about being a hospital and bedridden mama for 6 days to come soon.....

Do you wuv you?

I love playing this game with my kids where I whisper to them...

"Do you know what?"

"Whut mama?"

"I love you!"

Emma particularly loves it and takes it a step further...

"I wuv you too mama......and I wuv Norwah and Hudson and Daddy and myself and YOU!"

"I love Norah and Hudson and Daddy too, Emma!"

"Mama?...Do you wuv you?"

Wait...whaaaaat? Do I love me? Does that feel like a strange question to anyone else?

We have a policy of answering honestly in our home, and so I didn't feel like I could just flippantly say Yes. Because sometimes, I don't love myself as much as I love all these people under my roof. Sometimes, I love them exponentially more than I love myself. I answered her with a yes, but ya know how God uses our kids to refine us? He was, in this moment, and speaking through 2 year old lips.

I think it struck me weirdly because most people in our society view loving yourself as a bad thing, as an arrogance that stinks rank. We prefer words like pamper or "treating myself". When often (not always, but often) all we are doing is using some external force to fill a love void. And we find that it works for a bit. But, next day, we are back at it again, fighting the lies we hear in our heads - be it from the enemy or from harsh words spoken or action done all those years ago. I seem to fight almost daily with loving myself. I don't want to love myself too much because that's pride and arrogance, but I keep hearing that I can't love anyone else well until I love myself. And what does that kind of love look like?

I think for me, in this season, it looks like grace. Grace for the moments when I an undone. Undone can come in so many different ways for all of us, but for a mama of 3 small kids in the middle of a move in the middle of the holidays it comes in the form of my home. I seriously think there must be some frat boyz hiding out in the closets. My theory is that they all emerge after we are asleep and move with stealth-like ninja quickness to watch my TV, nosh on Cheetos and soda, play with my kids toys, throwing them aimlessly around my house, and then strip naked and leave their laundry both in clean piles in baskets and dirty...well...just everywhere (like, I seriously found a dirty sock in the hairbrush drawer. Seriously, frat boyz?) And they all must be carrying around bottles of Febreeze. Cause it don't smell like frat house up in here, but it sho' do look like one. So if anyone comes visiting...just blame it on the frat boyz.

I mean, seriously, I woke up today hearing all this condemnation about how I should kick out the frat boyz and grow up and be the 34 year old mom that I am and have a spotless house. Did I mention we are moving in like 10 days? And that I have 3 small children? And that I'm packing this place up mostly by myself? And trying to buy the Christmas gifts? And figure out where to ship the gifts because we have no permanent address at the moment? So...grace.

Grace for myself that I am hospitable and the frat boyz can stay until we move into the new place. (But then it's gonna be all "You ain't got to go home, but 'chu gotsta get the heck outta here!") And the Christmas tree may not go up this year. And the presents will come, at some point, to some address, somewhere. Grace that the kids will survive a year without starting any kind of Forman traditions. Grace that crockpot meals are fantastic and beautiful sides prepared with loving care are for the birds when you're moving. Pizza and Movies. Pizza is acceptable and movies essential in this season. And paper plates. And grace to laugh off the things that don't really matter at all or that I can't control. For example, our new house was ordered with 2 sets of porches and stairs....and we have 3 doors. C'est la vie. Grace is the name of the game for wrapping up 2015.

It just hit me....Emma was the one who asked me if I loved myself and started this whole train of thought. And Emma's middle name? Grace. How fitting.

Sisters

“A sister is both your mirror – and your 

opposite.”

– Elizabeth Fishel

These two sisters couldn't be more opposite. One, an independent, make-sure-everyone-follows-the-rules, but tender-hearted, kind of girl. She loves her family fiercely and has been known to go through a pack of 500 sheets of construction paper in a week. The other, a crazy-haired jokester who can make us laugh with the wrinkle of her brow. Books and quiet moments alone fill her soul brim-full. But she also wins the "Most likely to be found cuddling with mama and daddy" award.

I love these moments. When their worlds collide and I catch them enjoying life together. Interacting about the great green world around them and just being sisters. I pray the Lord blesses these sweetest of moments with His stickability and they continue to find themselves chatting about the simplest of things. 

The Soul Mess: Guest Posting Today!!

I am super excited to let you all know that I am guest blogging over at RedTentLiving.com today.

This is the first time I've submitted anything to Red Tent, so I'm humbled and honored to be blogging alongside some amazing women with breathtaking stories.

Just click here to go check it out!


A little about Red Tent Living:

Red Tent Living is an invitation.  Here, women come to just be and be together.  Amidst all of the impossible, confusing, and shaming ideas of what femininity is in our culture today, we find respite and meaning in gathering together and sharing our lives with one another.  Your femininity is not an essence to be quickly taken in, nor is it contained in the labels of your age, location, season of life, or vocation.  That is why in this venue, we choose to reframe what it is to be a woman.

There is power in regular connecting and honest sharing. Our own gatherings and discussions can become places of rest, becoming, and creativity.  We don’t need to let other people define femininity for us…we can do that together.

God's back in dark seasons

All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all that I have not seen ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have recently come out a darker season of life. Those moments when I'm not sure which way is up because I let the enemy speak too loudly. I let him murmur a little too long in my ear. And I find my self upside down and sideways because I have replaced the clear voice of the Father with the dull pain of the enemy's condemnation and lies. He [the devil] was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth because there is no truth in him. When he lies he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies. (John 8:44)

But now on the other side of this dark season, I see the Lord more clearly. I see how His hand was moving and working for my good...for His glory. His. Glory. Oh that I may be a tool for His use! For His glory! That He would mold and shape and make me into whatever brings Him the most praise and honor. That I would humbly bow and submit. For He knows all things. He holds all things. If it weren't for Him, to dust we would return. If He removed His hand but for a moment, all things would come shattering down. 

I was listening to One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp on Audible. (If you haven't read this book, do it. Just go buy it right now. Ah-may-zing....) She spoke so clearly to where I was....

Wasn't that too His way with Moses? "When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by. Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back. (Exodus 33:22-23 NIV) 

Is that it? When it gets dark, it's only because God has tucked me in a cleft of the rock and covered me, protected, with His hand? In the pitch, I feel like I'm falling, sense the bridge giving way, God long absent. In the dark, the bridge and my world shakes, cracking dreams. But maybe this is true reality: It is in the dark that God is passing by. The bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by. God is in the tremors. Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by. In the blackest, God is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will. Though it is black and we can't see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ is most present to us, I-beam support in earthquake. Then He will remove His hand. Then we will look. Then we look back and see His back. 

I am so thankful that the Lord is near to me. That He hears when I call and He responds. I mean, seriously? The God of the Universe....responding to me?! Caring about me? Loving me? Listening to me lament my daily problems? I am thankful that He is near. That in the darkest of nights, He is passing by. 

Would I still be good?

I recently heard a story of a mother who accidentally mixed her one month old baby's formula with vodka. The baby is going to fine even after her blood alcohol level reached a staggering .29% (according to a USA Today article). But the child's toes turned red, her legs started shaking and she was rushed to the emergency room and then intensive care.

As I listened to the story being told while holding my middle born, I felt my gut tighten. What if that was my child? It was a total accident. Dad filled a water bottle with vodka to take it to a friends house and left it on the counter. But by the grace of God, it could totally be our home. (Not that we are in the habit of carrying vodka around in water bottles, but you get the point.) 

Then the whisper came: "Would I still be good?" 

Dads that die driving home from the job worked so hard to bring the bread and bacon.

Moms struck still in word. Cancer. 

"Would I still be good?"

Financial security ripped away when the oil drops and downsizing rises.

The spouse came to work with the news. I thought he had gotten fired. But no. Worse. Heart stopped beating. Lungs not filling. "Your dad died." 

"Am. I. still. good?"

I recently heard Tim Keller say that it's often hard for us to identify our idols. We often think we don't have any. So rather than trying to identify idols, begin to identify the things that would cause you to reject the goodness and sovereignty of God. Would the loss of anything in life, a child, a spouse, an identity, a social standing, anything, cause you to reject the goodness and sovereignty of God? Once you identify those things, you will know what your idols are.  (And that is grossly paraphrased. He is much more eloquent than I ever could be.)

So, the question has been coming to me often. Would I still be good? If your child dies? If the man I'm soul-joined with didn't come home one day be it from death or just a choice to walk away....would I question His goodness?

He stands by and doesn't intervene in situations when we think He should. When we scream "if You are so good, why didn't You stop this?! Why did You let someone do that to me? When things are precious to me, I don't just stand by while someone else utterly destroys them! Why didn't You stop this?" When the why's won't stop flooding our minds....how do we respond to Him then? IS HE STILL GOOD?

It's in these moments that we have to allow our minds to rule over our feelings. Where we stop the reckless rape of our minds by the enemy and cling tight to the shoulder of His robe, burying our face in His neck, knuckles white and fingers frozen in a grip that won't be let go of. This is where we fall, helpless, hopeless, confused and lost, but believing and trusting beyond all that we can see. He is who He says He is. And He says that He is good. His words are clear, black and white for all to see:

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are my ways your ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

He works all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28)

He is the same, yesterday and today and tomorrow. (Hebrews 13:5)

In Him is life. (John 1)

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord Your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isaiah 43:2)

I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people I formed for myself that they might declare my praise (Isaiah 43:20b-21)

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is in the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit. (Jeremiah 17:7-8)

This is not an exhaustive list...not by a long shot. Just a few verses the Lord popped to my mind. He is good. And nothing can change that. Not death, not life, not abuse, not abandonment, not financial ruin, not a car wreck or a diagnosis. Nothing can change who He is. And He is good. 

Oh Lord, may we run this race set before us with endurance. Teach us to take thoughts captive and submit them to your truth. We can know your character as clear as we see our faces in the mirror. Give us a hunger for your word and a hunger to know you more. Draw those who don't know you and find us faithful in the midst of the earthly. Amen. 

Before The Throne

I was listening to Francis Chan speak via YouTube the other day and I was taken by something he said. He talked about how when he prays, before he starts speaking, he thinks about the image of the throne of God from Revelation 4 and 5. He talked about how when he takes a few moments to visualize this it changes the tenor of his prayers. Take a moment to read them...

At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. 3 And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne.4 Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads.5 From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. In front of the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits of God. 6 Also in front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal.

In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back. 7 The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle. 8 Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings. Day and night they never stop saying:

“‘Holy, holy, holy

is the Lord God Almighty,’

who was, and is, and is to come.”

...

Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. 12 In a loud voice they were saying:

“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,

to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength

and honor and glory and praise!”

Revelation 4:2-8 and Revelation 5:11-12

I was raised in a generation that has tried to make God more "seeker friendly." I grew up hearing that God was just like my best friend, that I could talk to Him just like I do anyone else. That He could handle my screaming and arguing and mess. And the life that He and I have lived hand in hand over the last 27 years has proven that He can handle my hot mess ugly cries. He is not swayed by them. He is not wringing His hands, walking the floor of heaven frustrated, angry or looking at me in disbelief. He is solidly on His throne, surrounded by (at least) 100 Million angels.

Unfortunately, in our attempts to make Him more accessible and less "angry and judgmental" to a seeking world, we have stripped Him of the awe we should have in His presence. I mean, if I stop and visualize those images from Revelation before I speak to the Lord, my prayers change dramatically. I no longer stand in His presence asking for the petty things. My prayers automatically become more respectful, more awe-inspired, more peaceful and I no longer see myself standing in the presence of God. I am on my knees, without option, laid out before the God who spoke breath into my lungs and who by His word holds all things together. I mean, the fact that we and all our filthy rags can even enter into His presence is humbling. Add to it that we can enter into His presence, speak to Him, He hears us and answers us? I mean, are there words for that? He. Answers. Me. A being that can utter a whisper and create life has a desire to speak to me. To hear me. To answer me. What do I choose to bring Him? Do I bring Him the eternal matters? Or the stupidity of my days? Do I bring Him the heart aches and soul groans for those who don't know Him and the pain of living in this fallen world? 

Lord, may I bring to Your throne the things that matter. The bigger picture. And when I bring them, may I leave them with You. Trusting that You alone can orchestrate this life into something beautiful and honoring to You. And thank You, Lord, that just like a parent, You delight in Your children. You delight in our honor and respect of Your rightful place. And You delight in the simple things that we bring You as well. May we find the balance of the Big and Small as we grow in relationship with You. 

Building a Home

As many people know...we are building a house! What most people don't know is that we started this journey a couple years ago.

Dave took a job in Houston (51 minutes from our home) back in 2013. We immediately considered moving to a small town between our current one and the city. But it didn't sit right and we wanted to wait until we were sure this company would be the place Dave planted his flag. Well, suffice it to say, it's planted. Firmly.

We looked periodically at homes for sale, but in the town we are moving to, there are few homes that fall into our median income price range. They are either multi million dollar ranches or small homes on very little land in dire need of repair. Dave doesn't have time for dire repairs, if ya know what I mean.

And, the way that we have structured our lifestyle revolves around our church community. They are our people, wherever the Lord has us, those are the folks we "do life" with. And our church was still in our current small town. So we stayed put and the pops racked up miles on the Camry.

Then the Lord called us to the city of Hempstead and to Hempstead Bible Fellowship. And so we started actively looking for a home there.

This lead us back to the original issue of no homes really matching our needs and income level. So we decided to build one. We found a sweet little piece of land, contacted a builder and now...7 months later...we are almost there.

The foundation is in, the utilities are being put in and the road is starting to take form. In other news...if you ever decide to build a home, do it on a piece of IMPROVED property...ours was unimproved and mercy...it's been a road to say the least.

BUT, they tell us that in just over a month we will be ready to move in! We are so excited to finally be close to being in our new home, and being close to our new family at HBF!

Anyway, the whole reason I started this post was just to add pictures of the babies. Cause they are the cutest and who are we kidding....everyone loves the blogs with pictures best. :-)

It's a GIANT SANDBOX, MOM!!!!!

They love mud.

Brush piles and no shoes. This is the life.

Forget the shoes. Let's do this barefoot.

Writing More

I'm trying to write more. It's a cry of my soul. I often find that my thoughts and emotions don't always make total sense until I get them out through the clicking of the keys or the scratch of pen to paper.

If you look back at the frequency of my blogs, you'll find I do this about once a year. I declare with great gumption and forthrightness: "I'm going to write more! I NEED to write more! I'm making the time! Hello again blog word!" And then I do for about a week, and trail off into the land of other things more pressing. The soul cry neglected for the world staring eyeball to eyeball.

Isn't that life though? The art of balancing the soul cries with the actual cries coming at us from all corners. The crib, the hunger, the laundry, the coloring and crafting and running and playing, the bill paying and the dish washing. The poor, the widow, the orphan...the pure and faultless religion that God our Father accepts (James 1:27). The cries come at us from every direction, seemingly all the time.

I recently read that:

Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day, “and only under dire circumstances do I allow myself to shut down before I get my 2,000 words.”  He finishes a 180,000-word novel in three months.  He says, “If I don’t write every day, the characters begin to stale off in my mind—they begin to seem like characters instead of real people.  The tale’s narrative edge starts to rust and I begin to lose my hold on the story’s plot and pace.  Worst of all, the excitement of spinning something new begins to fade.  The work starts to feel like work, and for most writers that is the smooch of death.”  Credit: here

Now, I know Stephen King has 3 kids, but I doubt they are still in diapers these days. So bless him for his 2,000 words a day. (I wonder if he was able to do that when they were in diapers?!) I would just like to eek out the ones that will be most helpful to my soul in these moments.

How does a writer get to the point where they think others will want to read what they write? I mean when did Stephen King say: "Ya know, I think I will call a publisher...someone else might find these 180,000 words of mine worth $20 a copy." Maybe it's just the drive of the goal of being published. I recently had someone tell me that I should write a book about my life experiences. When she said it, I have to admit, something in my soul sparked. Almost like a little lightening bolt to my spirit. We'll see what the Lord does with that. ;-)

For now, I'm just trying to balance the everyday pushes and pulls with the cries of the soul the Lord put in me. I seek to honor the soul He put in me and the soul work He has put in front of me.

Commitment in the Rain

In May, Texas got more rain than any other month on record. It was a good thing too because it was followed by months of little to no rain. The rivers dropped, burn bans started popping up and kids were set loose to explore the great outdoors again.

It started raining again today. Flood like rains. Downpour. Traction Control light on my van freaking out like of rain. Part of me wanted to go stand in it. Let the drips and drops pelt my head cold, feel the water trickle down the little hairs on my arms. Another part of me was glad for our roof and glass panes of protection from the driving storms. 

I drove out to the farm of a friend of ours. They have 4000+ chickens on any given day, along with cattle, pigs, turkeys, and various other animals. During those flood days back in May, they were so flooded out, the farm was wrecked. 300+ pound pigs were rootin' all over the place because of downed fences and wreaking havoc everywhere they went. It was a mess. And today, as I drove up the gravel road, tires creating water walls like Moses standing at the edge of the Red Sea, I was reminded of those days. 

I thought of our friend and the rain he had to willingly step out into this morning. He and his workers in mud boots and hooded jackets, in and out of the torrential pourings without option. Without option not because he really didn't have one. But without option because he had made a commitment. Commitments to his family to provide, his animals to care, shield and protect them, and to the hundreds of families his farm feeds every month. Once made, commitments are no longer options. 

I am guilty of making a commitment and then not keeping it. From the smallest things like not drinking a 5th cup of coffee that day to forgetting an appointment to breaking the vows I set on my wedding day to cherish, always love and always sacrifice for. I know that to be born is to be set up to forget, fail and otherwise stumble. It's the nature of this broken world.

But our society has gone the way of commitment ineptitude. We find someone who actually does what they say they will and we are baffled by their astounding character. We stand in awe of someone showing up on time to serve in a church week after week after week. In our small town, to find a contractor who will show up to quote a job is an amazing feat. And to have them actually complete the job they quoted, is downright unbelievable. Yet, for those who are men of their word, they are promised to see job after job after job roll in. People want to work with those who are committed and follow through.

I don't know exactly what prompted all this rambling except that I hope by diligence and doing the hard work, I can raise children who do what they say. I hope that when their generation grows up and becomes the farmers, contractors and church volunteers of the world, that my kids stand out, not necessarily for their intelligence or wit, but because they are men and women of their word.  I pray that I can raise them to look out the window, see the rain and jerk on the mud boots with a smile. 

A New Season is Upon Us

I have tried starting this a few times and there is no easy way to begin one of the most bittersweet posts I've ever written. So here we go, bear with me....

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...Ecclesiastes 3:1

A season is ending for us tomorrow and man... our hearts are heavy. 

Dave has accepted a worship leader position at a new church. Well, I suppose our whole family has accepted a worship leader position. Because when the leader of our home was called into ministry, so were we. 

But this new adventure came without much warning. Dave wasn't seeking a position. We are not disgruntled or frustrated or angry or upset with our current church. We were not looking to change churches. We were perfectly content. Comfortable even. But as the writer of Ecclesiastes says: There is a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing (Ecc 3:5b) We have embraced the people of Redeemer Brenham as our own and now it's time to let go. 

The Lord did not prepare me five and a half years ago for how the people of Redeemer would come to weave their way into the deepest parts of my spirit. I wasn't prepared for what true community under the banner of Christ Jesus looked like. I wasn't prepared to walk rocky terrain along side people who love no matter what, accept despite my faults and embrace in order to heal and grow. People who truly, deeply and honestly understand what it means to meet felt needs and share whatever they have. I had not known this type of genuine Christ like love until now. 

We have walked through the darkest season of our lives with these folks holding our arms high. They identified broken places in our lives sometimes before we could, and were prepared with the Gospel to help put pieces back together. They have mourned with us in ways we didn't know people were capable of.

They laughed, jumped, shouted and cried when we announced not one, not two, but three pregnancies. They have held our babies in their arms and hearts and prayers. They provided meals for a solid month after each of the kids was born and some of them have even done my laundry and cleaned my toilet. (Poor, sweet souls. Bless. Bless. Bless.) And we've helped those same friends welcome over 22 babies!! 25+ babies in five and a half years? I'm just sayin'....don't drink the water.

We've gone through a church merge together. A healthy one that was an amazing testament to the Lord. Click on the link and watch that video - it's freakin' awesome!!

We've done bible studies, women's ministries, run sound and led worship. We have gone berry picking, on retreats, thrown wedding showers, thrown baby showers (a lot of baby showers) and shared in kid-watching duties. 

And then there is food. Sweet mercy the food. I thought I knew how to cook before I came to Texas. And I was so, so, so, so....SO...wrong. We love sharing food together. And there is a lot of it. Something beautiful happens over shared meals. There have been multiple times I've gotten a random phone call that someone heard I was having a rough day and they are bringing dinner over. I've repaid the favor gladly on multiple occasions as well. You know you've found a sweet spot in life when people drop dinner off because your entire family has been sick for a few days. 

The teaching of this church has been revolutionary in our lives. You'd think two adults who were raised in church their whole lives would have some rock solid theology. Don't get me wrong. We knew what we believed, but we needed help reinforcing the foundations started decades ago. And we found it under the teaching of Justin Hyde and Marcus Lawhon. They filled in gaps for us that made the whole tapestry of salvation and this crazy Christian walk make sense. 

So here I sit on the eve of our last day of worship with the people who have been "our people" for over 5 years. To all of you at Redeemer, I am eternally grateful for the ways the Lord has shown His deep, all surpassing love through you. I am thankful that you have taught me so much, from how to birth babies to how to cook Lemon Fusilli. For the ways you have challenged my actions and the thoughts behind the actions. For the lifelong friends I know we have made. And for the ways you point to Jesus. Oh the many, many ways you live out His love in your daily walks. I know we aren't perfect...Lawd knows we gots lots to work on, right?!...but we are seeking His heart. Thank you for an amazing 5 years, I will never be the same. 

Reset and Repeat

Every night around here there is a routine. After we eat dinner, the hubs usually gets in the floor with all the little people and wrestles, flips and otherwise tosses them about. We put them to bed, and then finish the clean up for the day. It's a "reset" of this crazy space. All the toys back to the playroom, shoes, jackets and the random clothes tossed about head back to the kids room, dishes in the washer and the kitchen counters wiped down.

It used to make me angry. Silly, right? But it did. I would get so frustrated at the end of the long days. "I'm so tired. And they are just going to trash it again tomorrow. As soon as they wake up, crumbs will be back on the floor, toys will be everywhere....and then I'll just have to do it all over again. So what's the point?!" I confess some nights...okay most nights...the playroom just stays the tornado wreckage that it is.

Lately though I've begun to enjoy waking up to cleanliness. I like that I can walk in my kitchen in the morning and not be greeted with a sink full of to-do's.

Tonight as I was making the rounds. I thought to myself: Reset... and Repeat Tomorrow. My mind's eye started examining those words between the picking up of size 3 shoes and sippy cups. And He struck me with His truth.

Every night when heads hit pillows, it's a reset. And when His grace makes the sun rise and His mercies are new, it's a chance to repeat...or not. Every night I can rest soundly knowing that tomorrow His mercies will be new and I will have the opportunity to retry what I missed today. Or to repeat what I did that honored Him or to attack the parts of my personality I'd rather weren't there with the truth of who He says I am (remember that icky insecurity?!). His mercy is new every morning. Just like my kitchen sink is open and ready to receive the breakfast carnage, so my heart and mind can be ready to receive all that He is.

I'm so thankful that He speaks in the everyday. That in the midst of the mundane evening pickup, He is present, reminding me of His attentiveness, grace and mercy.

So apparently I'm insecure...

So apparently, I'm insecure. I guess I've known for a while that I struggle with finding my identity in Christ. I wasn't taught how, and no one I grew up with really exhibited this mindset. Further, as I've grown into adulthood, "finding your identity in Christ" seems to be this elusive skeleton of an idea that I haven't found anyone who can boil it down for me into digestible chunks. It's always this grand notion with some kind of imaginary checklist that I can't seem to find anywhere.

Oh I know the bullet points:

 I am a child of the King of Kings! 

I am worth dying for! 

I am so treasured that the God of the Universe sent His SON...HIS ONLY SON....to DIE a horrible death just for me. And if I was the only person on the earth, He still would have done it. 

I could go on for days with these truths. But for my entire existence, I have struggled, nay, failed, at moving these truths from my head to heart. I agree with those who've said it before and am absolutely convinced that the longest distance anyone must travel in life is the distance from head to heart. WHY? Why is so hard to convince the heart of truthful things about our Creator-God-Father-Friend?

So, I struggle. I wrestle with what others think of me. How they perceive everything....every. thing....about me. It's not a constant thing. Most days, I am confident in who I am, what I'm doing, how I'm doing whatever it is. I do well to stay away from Facebook and Pinterest and Instagram, where, let's be honest people - we will never measure up to all the perfectly pictured moments of sunsets and reading lists and checklists and grocery lists and chore charts. I mean, just bless.

But some days.  OH. Some. Days. 

I can feel your shoulders drooping and your eyebrows lifting with me. The deep sigh comes from me too, sister-friend.

Some days my whole life just seems like one big ugly cry. I just can't seem to find my footing. I KNOW the truth of the Word and what God says about me. But I flounder. I gasp for air under giant waves of insecurity. And then I adjust what I would do, say, act, feel, wear to whatever I think they're thinking.

Does this mom-friend think I'm being too hard on my kids? Too soft? ....Adjust.
Is she, he, them watching what I'm choosing to eat?....Adjust.
Oh gosh, that woman in Wal-Mart just asked NJ a question and she didn't know the answer, I really should teach her that....Adjust.
I know that she and I don't agree on certain topics, and even though my opinions are biblically based and she calls herself a believer....mmmm.... I will just hear her out, smile and nod and by NOT responding I won't cause any problems.

I confess most of this ugly rears it's head when it comes to my kids. To my parenting abilities. To my mothering, homemaking, wife-ing. You know, the places we women find our identity and worth more often than in Christ. Ouch. That one stung a little, huh? Yet again...how to move the truth from head to heart?

I don't have the answer. I see so many, myself included, finding identity and worth and value and security in the temporal. The enemy has deceived in the places closest to our hearts. He's cunning like that. Sly dog. He has reached right in to the places we devote our life's work to - home, kids, marriage, family - and convinced so many of us that if all those things are flowing along nicely, we are OK and our "place in life" is solid and secure. Oh what shaky ground it is. He has convinced us, lied to us, walked us into the garden and handed the apple and we have bitten like big fish. Oh that we could go back and replace the lie. Replace the lie dug deep into our hearts and souls and spirits that our identities lie in these houses of brick and mortar. That our worth is wrapped neatly into the behavior, education, and cleanliness of our children. Oh dear friends, we KNOW it isn't. Our minds KNOW this truth. But our BELIEF is blocked. Our hearts are guarded and afraid and unsure.

I, for one, am tired of being guarded and afraid, unsure and insecure. My God didn't call me to that. He didn't send His son to die for me so I could live a life full of that! I look forward to the ways that He is about to alter my heart-believing. I never have these rants without a change being close behind. I embrace it. I look forward to it. I can't wait to see what He is about to do.


PS...I seriously wish for one week, we would all post our worst moments to social media, the makeup off, hair in tangles, the thing we actually just really "oh my gosh did I seriously" said to our kids. Close-up shots of ring around the tub, the dust on the fan blades and the overflowing trashcans. DO I dare say it...the PLAYROOM!? I mean..can you imagine?! HA!!!

Humbling

I have recently felt the Lord saying that He is preparing me for a season of humbling. Not a "pride comes before the fall" kind of humbling, but a humbling of reformation. I have felt Him saying that He is going to take me into places that will, by their very nature have a refining effect on me. Physical places He will take our family into, emotional places that He will use to chip away at my soul damage, spiritual challenges that will shake my foundations...

I confess I'm a little nervous.

I look ahead to 2015 and feel like He is going to strip away the comfortable. That these days of knowing what to expect, how to function in my little world, and exactly how I fit into that world will all change, like a pre-schooler dumping and reworking a puzzle board. There aren't that many pieces in a preschool puzzle, but when it gets dumped, it's gonna take them a minute to put it all right again.

I am so thankful He has prepared my heart. Isn't that just like a dad? "Honey, this trail we're walking has not been easy. But it's been somewhat predictable. We're about to start climbing some rocky terrain. And you can't always trust the rock under your next step. I'll test it first. I'll go ahead and make the path steady and true. Trust me, okay? You may want to deviate. You may think you see an easier way to get to the top. But trust me. I know the best way and I will lead you through."

And in that trusting, stepping where He steps and pushing through the hard climb when He leads me there, I know I will be better for it. My family, my children, my little world...will be better for it. I pray for the guts to see it through. I pray for His strength and the great ability to dig deep into who I am and what He wants to change in me and to walk boldly yet humbly into these refining fires.

Here's to 2015! May I walk worthy of His calling and find all the richness of this life He has planned.