real

for the hard places

a moment

I found myself taking deep breaths this morning, wanting to suck up all the atmosphere, every  single moment, to hold them in my chest, force them through my veins, keep them with me where they can't be taken. This is holy. Life is holy.

I hear my grandparents' wind chime singing to me outside from the front porch.

"Re.mem.ber...re.mem.ber..." That's what the chimes beckon. I hear my grandma's voice like an angel's. I agree that I will. I will remember.

Found myself confessing to a daughter that I am quite ridiculous at times; yes, forgetful and ungrateful. I'm sorry. I don't deserve this good but He says otherwise. I must always agree, especially when it doesn't add up. Easy to do when it falls in my favor.

I've kissed cheeks extra long and hard today. I looked a bit longer at eyebrows and teeth and freckles. Subtle changes, I don't want to go unaware. I've cried at least three times now. Mother's Day. A day to be. A day to see. A day to remember.

I was given a compliment so generous it made me blush. When God says this is who I am, in all of my weakness and inability...blatant deficiencies...in all of my begging to not do what is known, to be something that I've not yet known...just agree. Just agree with grace, in faith, that you will be just what he says. That you already are, in the greater reality.

My hands, heart, home, all full. I look longer the shorter my days become. It's such a whirlwind but there are altars that will not be moved. There are moments that are consecrated in my heart, unto the Lord. And in between the few of these are many, many wasted moments that I cannot recoup, that I cannot even recall. What I gather, in all the fullness, is really just a handful. I simply cannot take it all in, in the span of this one life. I am blessed. Unashamedly I say, I am blessed.

The Tale of the Traveling Teal Maternity Top

Once upon a time there was the perfectly teal maternity top. This wasn't just any top, let me tell you. She {yes, she} was fairy-tale ideal in texture, length, color and especially fit. She covered the bulging belly modestly when none other could. She seemed to be the top that went the distance. In Jesus speak, this top went the second mile - you know, the ninth 'inning' stretch, through the end times of pregnancy when all the bowls (take your pick: ice cream, salad, noodle...) are being poured out. Yet, this maternity shirt was clearly sealed by God himself, having no stain or residue to speak of. {A moment of silence for all the maternity tops lost to oil and vinegar salad dressing. *pause*...and a Shout stain remover 'Spray Salute' in remembrance.}

If memory serves me right, (it most often forgets to serve me at all) this bargain beauty has humble roots, being a yard sale find, rescued by Mom Karum - or something of that nature. Despite this rocky start and clearly being underestimated by the yard sale SELLER, this shirt has held her weight (and ours, too!) with the perfect blend of polyester and cotton, having both give and comfort. It's kind of like heaven and earth kissing but minus the sloppy wet kiss part. (or unforeseen kiss, per the radio version) Now, there was a somewhat outdated crocheted, scalloped collar, {don't we all have a little something we'd like to change about ourselves?} but given all of her pros, it didn't deter us from proudly sporting her at our longest hour. Oh, no. This girl has got some miles on her! She has journeyed through nearly every child (roughly 11), has been to Thailand and back, has endured leaks and snot and tugs and crushing weight, without even so much as a whimper. She's been an old, faithful friend that has grown right along with us, through thick and thin. {but mostly thick}

And so, this old gal has done a tremendous job of covering our backs (pun intended) and surely deserves some sort of glorified preservation ceremony in not only our hearts but also our childbearing stories. She has been a part of every season of the pregnant (and nursing) soul. Been vollied back and forth and shall finally be laid to rest with the best of 'em. {In good fashion, I might add, which is fitting. Oh, another clever pun!}

And so we pay tribute to the Traveling Teal Maternity Top that has loved us so well, held onto us as we held out for nine months. We honor the Honors brand and say, THANK YOU, from the bottom of our bellies, for always covering ours, no matter the season or fit! Rest in peace, treasured pal and tale.

With mucho respeto,

Tab and Amy

the cross

It is my heart's meditation...

buy the truth, sell it not

A few truths I have been taking consolation in...

Jesus is a beautiful intercessor and he put himself between me and the accuser, on purpose.

Jesus bore every emotional/physical/spiritual whipping for every man who has ever lived and will ever live. He EVER LIVES to make intercession for me.

Jesus did not open his mouth to defend himself when accused. His extreme display of humility...I have no way to comprehend this. Awakens more love in my heart for Him.

Jesus was not afraid of what man could do to him. He knew not self-preservation.

Self-preservation will actually kill you; a silent, lonely death.

Anger is only as powerful as I allow it to be. I don't have to feed it, fuel it or respond to it.

It is not OK to spiritualize dysfunction. I must agree with the cross over its deadly wages and the provision for the healing of it.

Unsanctified mercy will not bring a pardon on the day we stand before the One whose eyes are like fire. Do not give it, do not receive it.

Relational codependency is not the same as unconditional love. One enables, the other empowers.

Often times emotional manipulators guilt, marginalize, dismiss, or discredit so as to maintain the upper hand, to gain control.

I never have to be emotionally manipulated when Christ has made a better way.

Sowing and reaping is such a painful/glorious process.

Before something can experience resurrection power, there must be a death.

What is in my heart will always come out of my mouth. No man can tame the tongue.

Change always equals conflict.

The right choice is always the hard choice; the one that requires more time, energy, resource, faith than I have on tap. But there is grace...

The Father will never play the victim. Even when I have torn his heart in two, He maintains His posture, His promise to be steadfast in love.

The LORD suffers so long. It is endearing to me. So patient. So kind.

If I am a son, I endure discipline. If my life is unruly, I must examine my heart.

Jesus has a jealous jealousy over my life. Others may, I cannot. My life is not my own.

Pruning is so severe at times but those who produce fruit are the ones who get the pruning. It is a double-edged sword resulting in life and death.

There is a peace that passes understanding, that touches untouchable depths.

It is good to get real with God.

There is real grace that gives real power to live in real victory.

I must not have more excuses than truth.

I must not take consolation in a lie.

I labor to rest in Him.

I labor to lay hold of the joy set before me; Christ crucified.

I am rich, rich, rich in friendship.

I have communion deep with my Father.
Guilt is an awful motivator and it whips its slaves.

I have asked my children to forgive me for the times I've tried to emotionally manipulate them with anger, fear or great big emotions.

I have asked my Father to forgive me for my doubt of what He is able to do, of what He is able to cure.

I have found that letting go and falling into grace is the scariest but safest place.

There is a supernatural grace and freedom that come when you entrust God with your relationships. Even the one you have with Him.

Sometimes to save a thing, you must be willing to let it die entirely. This takes great faith and prayerful watching and waiting.

Saying no to fear and control require a setting of my will, a conscience/cerebral decision that eventually work their way through my heart and spirit and penetrate the way I live my daily life.

Forgiveness is blessed. To give it, to receive it.

Never give up hope. Ever.

I will stand before God one day, accountable for every idle word and deed. Holy terror and comfort.

God cares most about how I treat those that He has entrusted to me; my children.

My Father is not angry with me. I am a son and will never suffer the Father's wrath.

Wisdom is learning from the mistakes/prudence of others.

Mercy triumphs over judgement.

My God is gracious, slow to anger and rich in love.

The Lord will never do my part and He will not require me to do His. I must cooperate with grace.

Trust is established in truth. You cannot build on a lie.

Jesus didn't endure what He did so that I could live a defeated, deflated, dysfunctional life. He came that I would have life and life abundant!

Repentance is a requirement for true peace and pardon. It is conditional.

The road is narrow...very, very narrow.

His promise to me is greater than.

Christ's body is beautiful because it was broken for my sanctification. I don't have to live as a bond servant to sin but rather, a bond servant to Love.

Obedience is costly but disobedience is more costly.

Jesus had not one who could rightly discern Him...and He was the son of God, perfect in every way.

The measure we use to weigh a man is the measure we will be weighed.
Turning the other cheek, going the second mile...

Bless those who curse you. Always.

He makes everything beautiful. He makes all things new.

Hurting people hurt people. Jesus died for both.

God is able and willing to turn my world upside down, in order to have every part. I am OWNED!

Truth is a refuge.

Nothing...NOTHING...is impossible with God. Does my life echo this?

Every motive of the heart is laid bare before Him.

We may fool ourselves but we can never fool God.

There is nothing more cleansing than a good heart to heart with my Father.

My Father is healthy. Healing.

My Father loves when I love Him with my choices, honor Him with my words, obey Him with my life.

My Father is a good, good Father and His leadership over my life is perfect. I can trust Him. He is able to keep me. Always and forever!

perspective

Lord, have mercy. I'm so forgetful. I'm so unable to keep perspective, and not just in trials but in the mundane. Ann Voskamp calls it soul amnesia, the inability to remember all the good, the God. Perhaps there is a pill that can cure me; a corrective soul surgery that forever corrects all that's skewed? Help, I need a doctor! I need the Healer.

Are any irritations ever truly valid? I mean, really? Any demand made on my time, does that not mean I posses time? Any demand on my body, does that not mean I have health and lungs full of air? Any demands for grace/forgiveness/mercy, am I not positioned to receive more than I deserve, anyhow?

1000 Gifts has been calling me again. No, actually, whispering to me because gratitude, thankfulness, thoughtfulness...they don't make a scene. They simply make a statement. Beautiful, humble, simple statements that require a settled heart, a cleared mind, a heavenly perspective. And quite frankly, most of the time I would rather just hurry this thing along. Does my day have a place setting for thanks? For Eucharisteo? For the making, taking and breaking of eternal bread? Some days my soul goes hungry and when I'm hungry, I'm grouchy!

I was looking for an email address this past week and in my search, some unopened emails from my recently deceased grandmother came up. Unopened. She sent me a lot of forwards, with videos and glittery graphics and silly jokes. Most of the time I felt I didn't have to time to indulge in them. But a memory came to mind of years ago when my inbox was being flooded by 'junk' mail and I actually turned on a filter that caught and tucked away all of the fwds to multiple recipients, sent out by my beloved grandma. I opened that unopened email the other night and it was indeed a silly joke. Found another one, read it as well. Wanted to find more, just to see her name, just to enjoy her personality, even if it was sent to dozens of her friends and not just to me. It's different now because she's not here but her emails remain in my inbox. Every junk mail now precious, pieces of her that she forwarded to me. I wept. How ridiculous am I? It was email. Just lots and lots of them and what would it have hurt anyone to have my inbox fill up, only to empty it out? My chest hurt I cried so hard. Why must I learn on THIS side of the lesson? Why can't I see this when it's before me, not just behind me? Kudos to the one who coined, 'hindsight is 20/20.'

The demands of life whip me, drive me like a race horse. Go faster, push harder, do more. In fact, what was once simple has become complex; more factors, more players, more twists and turns. But the Spirit within me says no such things. It says stop, pause, rest, wait...trust me.

'The fast have spiritually slow hearts.' - 1000 Gifts

I'm really getting nowhere then, aren't I, at this rapid pace? And my haste makes so much waste in that I forfeit the grace that could be mine; grace that could turn irritation into celebration, into enrichment, into Christ likeness. God, I thought I knew this! I thought I had an angle on this! Darn you soul amnesia! How quickly these lessons leave me.

'Without God's Word as a lens, the world warps.' - 1000 Gifts

My heart confession/petition to God:

When my children seem determined to cause a blood vessel to explode in my brain, Lord grant me perspective. I would rather have them nipping at me than not. I would rather a million irritated moments with them than none. I would rather a million tears with them than a life of dry eyes. They are SO MUCH WORK but they are the best work that's ever been entrusted to me, the greatest gift You have given me. And when I lose perspective and forget all that your hand has provided, HELP ME LORD, to remember, to choose to pause and recall your goodness, your faithfulness, even while I have been unfaithful. Help me to recount your tender mercies to me, your endless graces given to me, that I would choose thanks over irritation, that I might choose bread over a stone. Because no matter what, no matter how bad it may get, no matter how maddening it may be, no matter how 'valid' the trial, pain, loss YOU SAID I can choose joy, thanks, praise, and quiet trust.

Most of us will never know the level of betrayal you experienced, the rejection, despising, scourging, beatings and duh, death! And you gave thanks. You saw and see perfectly. I want to see better than I see right now. I am skewed, my perspective jaded by pain, disappointment, irritation, entitlements and so forth. How can one whose eyes have been touched by the Healer, still see so poorly at times? Oh, I am a mere vapor, God, like the grass in the field, how I fade and with me, heaven's perspective.

I have felt that I have been lost and found many times in my journey. I guess I was never really lost to the One who has kept me but I have felt lost in the frenzy of life, felt lost in that I've been grasping for heaven's truth. And then I find it, yet again, because He is faithful to come to me in the small, foolish things like unopened email, and then I'm ashamed at myself and thankful all at once. And I'm so happy to be found, to have found yet again, this beautiful thing/One called Truth. It's always a warm welcome, hot tears and all, fully embracing me when my mind and heart have gone wretched. Perhaps that is part of the beauty of it all, losing and finding over and over again. I am forever reintroduced to redemption, no matter where I am or what I'm dealing with. And it's sweet every time. It's peace every time. It's joy, every single time.

True saints know that the place where all the joy comes from is far deeper than that of feelings; joy comes from the place of the very presence of God. Joy is God and God is joy and joy doesn't negate all other emotions - joy transcends all other emotions. though my marriage tree may not bud and though my crop of children may fail and my work produce little yield, though there is no money in the bank and no dream left in the heart, thought others may chose different ways to live their one life, till my last heaving breath, I will fight to the death for this: "I will take joy" (Habakkuk 3:18) - 1000 Gifts

go on and grow slow

I love her bedhead hair in the morning. It curls up over her ears, makes a fuzzy nest on the top of her head. Her skin is like the sweetest peach. I think I could eat her up, bit by bit. It would have to be nibbles since she is so busy. We have run-ins all the day long.

She is getting big. She has always been big. My baby, never so much a baby. I marvel at how almost 2 years could have whisked right by me. Surely I was in the room when this all happened. She's so long...so tall. Over 100% on the charts. I watch her sisters struggle to carry her on their hips. She is two-thirds the size of her brother who has 5 years on her. But yet she is just a babe, full of babble and chatter and nonsense that she takes quite seriously.

She reads her books like a proclamation! Most of the time, it's a thick chapter book, upside down, turned open to the middle. And her little face will come up every once in a while, to see whom she might be entertaining. And if an audience is near, she will give a quick smirk and plunge back into the black and white pages.

She loves to move. She loves to be free. She loves to do what she wants to do; go where she wants to go. She was meant for wide open spaces and pleasant boundary lines. She was made for momentum and play and for work that keeps the hands and body busy. And she will find rest just as she does now, in the moments in between; in the moments you blink; in the moments you sit a spell only to be back about it all before too long. She was born for great things...for God things.

How she has already tasted and seen that He is good. Her appetite is good, and for good things. She craves real food and is brave and eats anything and everything. She takes great delight in her meal times. If she is walking about with a snack she really enjoys, she will dance as she eats it. She lives life to the fullest!

She is a little mama, if I ever did see one. Her babies are most precious to her. She holds them close, thumb in her mouth. A baby with a baby. She finds comfort, she gives comfort. And kisses. So many kisses she gives freely to her babies. But, mama has to beg for one of those. She likes to tease me, holding out her affections, making me work hard, barter with her. And she knows exactly what she is doing, sneaky grin on the side of her face, her eyes all slanted and twinkling. When she is ready to give it up, only then will I get a sacred kiss. She is not easily moved unless she WANTS to move. A strong will, indeed.

And shoes...she's an honest girl with her shoe fascination. Any size, any type, just as long as they make a loud clunky sound as she steps. She loves to announce her coming in and going out.  Makeup is a wide-eyed temptation for her and if she gets hold of my blush brush or facial sponges, it's just a matter of time before I feel my toes getting a makeover. So silly.

Peek-a-boo, is simply, "BEE!" and requires little hiding but LOTS of vocal projecting. "Wuuun, doooooo..." will never be followed by three because that's our job. Her cup is a 'bobby' and mom is, 'mommy' and now sisters have become, 'didthy' and it all makes my heart melt, every single time.

Pouty lips and cheeks and she looks like her daddy. Mouth wide open, eyes glistening, she is her mother made over. I see flashes of us and yet she is her very own person with her very own faces and mannerism. She shuffles and swings her one arm just like her Mimi. She makes you work hard for giggles and affections, just like Teniel. She will get louder than you, if need be, just like Tess and she will wander around endlessly like her fellow dreamer, Taryn. She'll wrestle Teague down in a heartbeat and only let him up for more. She is quite a precious package, already. She if full, full, full. And we get to enjoy the overflow.

I don't want to forget...so grow slow my great big little one. Grow slow so I can remember and capture it all.

Fathers

 

No matter who you are...where you are...you have a Father.

 

 

 

 

Listen, my heart...

 

My Father in heaven is perfect. He leads me perfectly. He loves me perfectly. He sees me perfectly. He knows me perfectly.
Listen, my children...

Your Father in heaven in perfect. He leads you perfectly. He loves you perfectly. He sees you perfectly. He knows you perfectly.

 

Listen, fatherless generation...

 

You have a perfect Father in heaven.  He leads you perfectly. He loves you perfectly. He sees you perfectly. He knows you perfectly.

 

 

"Even the best of them...are just brothers in the end.

 

I'm the only Father.

 

Man can't be God and God's not like man."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pause

Thank you, God. Just thank you. Again and again.

fix you

I use to think it was my job to fix people, things. By nature, I am a 'fixer-type' personality, also known as peacekeeper, mediator, bridge-builder, caretaker, etc. Any one of those fits the bill. But through the last few years I have learned a hard lesson, that I cannot fix anything or anybody. I can't even fix myself. Only Jesus is the true fixer-upper and for me to assume this role is simply prideful, exhausting, and even enabling at times to the one who is broken. It is not my job to fix. It's my job to introduce the Fixer to the one who needs fixing. He does the fixing and sometimes he uses my hands, feet, life to aid in the process.

I believe the Lord has made me to be a responder. If I see a need and I can help meet it, I try to do that. If I see a hurting soul and I have a free hand or ear to offer, I will do this as well. But many times in the past, I have thought I was the only one who could meet needs, even taking on a false responsibility and guilt in meeting specific needs for specific ones. It has required more faith on my part to not rush in and try to fix a situation but rather wait on the Lord to do something deeper, something eternal. Who am I to interfere with His processes, to constantly 'fix' in a surface way a deeper hemorrhage that only the Surgeon can attend to? Again, my pride. Hard lesson to learn and ultimately harm for the already hurting.

I know that as a parent, my fix instinct is STRONG. I don't want my children to make painful mistakes, obviously. But to rush to the place of every injury and slap on a band aid is not really fixing anything. And it's not really love, either. It's fear. It's me, as a parent, fearing my children actually having to deal with pain and perhaps, not dealing well with pain. I don't want my children to suffer. Who does? But, this is not the Lord's heart posture over us, as His children. While He does not delight in seeing us hurting, squirming, wrestling, He does not always automatically rush to the scene of the crime and make it instantly better. Many times He lingers in the background, giving us just enough space to invite Him into the trauma, into the pain. Sometimes He tarries long in His response, even as hard as it is for us to fathom. Sometimes He allows things to get worse, well before He makes them better. That's because He is the True Fixer, and he fixes perfectly, not superficially. He does deep work that takes a lifetime to perfect. He is not a genie in a bottle, He is God. He is not afraid of pain, has taken it on in the fullest form. Therefore, He knows that pain, struggle, need, brokenness and the like, is not too much for His children, either. He said to not fear, He has overcome the world. Knowing that Jesus took on every hardship known to man and overcame it, should instill a perfect peace inside of me, that I can do the same; that my children can do the same. He faced great need (didn't even have one friend who really 'got him' or who could stay awake and pray with him), great opposition and insurmountable persecution. And the Father spared Him none of it. In fact, the scriptures say that Jesus was taught obedience through these things. What kind of parent allows this?!!! A perfect one.

While Jesus healed all who came to Him and performed signs and wonders, He was not rescued when it seemed He should have been. As the old song goes, "He could have called 10,000 angels..." But there is always something bigger, greater, deeper going on. He was securing our eternal healing in the midst of all that pain. God is indeed the perfect Fixer-Upper. He knows just what He's doing and I would do well to trust and follow His way.

letting go

It's been a perpetual season of letting go...

A season of letting things die...myself included.

I don't always die so well. Really, don't know many who do but for Jesus; one man, perfect in life and death. He died well.

The grieving of letting things go, letting things die is bittersweet.

Speaking of Lazarus...Then Thomas said to the rest of the disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” John 11:16

...that we may die with him...a friend, a loved one, a family member...the Christ.

So many journeys I don't want to take. So many roads I'd rather avoid all together. Many cups I want to pass.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” John 11:21 & 22

Bitter is the sting of loss. Sweet is the promise of hope.

And then the offense of death, of stripping away what is precious, of four days in bewilderment at how the One who could turn this all around, stayed away. Even saying, "and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe."

Why so much dying in the midst of the Resurrection and the Life? Why so many salty tears mingled with sweet wine?

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die;  and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” John 11:25 & 26

Do I believe this? Not simply physical death, bodies buried in tombs but, death to intangible things, undefined things, unseen things? Things that take faith to even see? Things that seem to die before they are even yet alive, seemingly? Things that are precious, invaluable?

Jesus wept.

Two words that fill thousands of pages in my heart. He cries with me. He cries for me. He understands loss, though nothing was ever truly taken from Him. He gave it all away freely, and all his loss is my gain. He wept and He weeps, still.

"But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” John 11:37

Oh, how I've asked the question but comforted myself like Martha...“I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” There will be a resurrection. There will be life anew. What was once dead will be made alive again.

But Jesus meant it for greater glory. For glory that traveled to the grave and back. Glory that eyes could hardly perceive. For no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind can perceive...

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”  The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face. John 11:43 & 44

He calls forth life out of death. He calls forth light out of darkness. He requires that which has been stolen to be returned. He commands that all things crooked be made straight, that every low place be raised up and every high place be leveled. He calls forth truth out of deception, the prisoner from his prison, the lame from their sickbed. He is entirely contrary to what we see, to what we know, to who we are.

It will always be, die to live...lose to gain...let go to get God. Let go, and trust Him as your most precious 'things' die. Let the contradiction take place. Let the bewilderment run its course as you cling to the HOPE of resurrection and life. Nothing is really useful unless it first dies.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 12:24

All That is Hidden
Bernadette Farrell

If you would follow me,
follow where life will lead:
Do not look for me among the dead,
For I am hidden in pain, risen in love;
There is no harvest without sowing of grain.

All that is hidden will be made clear.
All that is dark now will be revealed.
What you have heard in the dark
proclaim in the light;
What you hear in whispers
proclaim from the housetops.

If you would honor me,
Honor the least of these:
You will not find me dressed in finery.
My Word cries out to be heard;
breaks through the world:
My Word is on your lips and lives in your heart.

If you would speak of me,
live all your life in me.
my ways are not the ways that you would choose;
my thoughts are far beyond yours,
as heaven from earth:
If you believe in me my voice will be heard.

If you would rise with me,
rise through your destiny:
do not refuse the death which brings you life,
for as the grain in the earth
must die for rebirth,
So I have planted your life deep within mine.

trust

I can feel how narrow His ways are. I can see how fine the line drawn is. And then I am forced to pick a side, to pick a 'truth' and then stand for it with all of my might, build my very life upon it. The questions comes, every situation, every scenario...who/what are you going to believe? Who/what are you going to trust? Who/what are you going to place your faith upon? God or man? There are so many things to believe, trust, hope in but only One will prove true in the end. Only One is left standing once the fire of testing has had its way. If I don't believe what He says is true, I call Him a liar. If I don't trust His goodness, I call Him bad. If I don't cast my hope upon Him, I trust in idols that are unable to truly save me. Even the kings of the earth hope falsely when they trust in their riches, favor, and power. There is only one name that will truly save and that is the name of Jesus.

Psalms 20:7 "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God."

Psalms 40:4 "Blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods."

Psalms 84:12 "LORD Almighty, blessed is the one who trusts in you."

Psalms 118:8 "It is better to take refuge in the LORD than to trust in humans."

Psalms 125:5 "Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever."
Proverbs 3:5 "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding..."

Proverbs 11:18 "Those who trust in their riches will fall, but the righteous will thrive like a green leaf."

Proverbs 29:25 "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is kept safe."

rich

I do not covet another's life. I don't want anybody else's life but the one I have in Christ. I am so entirely rich with the one that I've been given. My portion, my boundary lines, they have indeed fallen in pleasant places. Does that mean I possess every worldly pleasure known to man? Hardly. I many times make due with what I have but I'm thankful. So thankful. My cup runneth over, and over and over. Little is much when God is in it. He makes all things abound to me because He is abounding in love.

Proverbs 15:16 "Better a little with the fear of the LORD than great wealth with turmoil."

My children are phenomenal. Each one of them is a gift from heaven, no matter the difficulties, sacrifices, the tensions at times. I would lay down my life for each one of them. They are the fruit of my womb, a reward from the Lord; a reward I do not deserve, mind you. I could have never imagined that God would have given me this much life, blessing, goodness. Surely there is nothing I could have done to deserve the kindness He has shown me, in blessing my life so richly. I am eternally indebted to his greatness. I am so thankful for my children, for this new life that is growing on the inside. I'm growing richer every day in God's grace and glory and that's the only kind of rich I really ever want to be. My life, my heart, my arms are full and that is the mark of the blessing of the Lord. He is more than enough.

alive

I'm so glad to be alive. So glad to feel joy and pain. I'm so glad God rescued me and gave me a life I could never deserve. I'm so blessed to be the wife of a patient, thoughtful husband; a mother to brilliantly beautiful children; a friend to incredible souls; and even more than all that, a friend of God. There is no loss or disappointment, failure or devastation that could ever take what has been given me. For what I posses is eternal, untouchable and will never perish. What I've been given in Christ is what I am, who I am. Nobody can truly take that away from me. Man may demand it of me but it can never be. You can't touch it with human hands, you can't even put a price on it. It's this precious thing called life and I've only one to live. And it belongs to the One who gave it to me and I know that nothing can pry it from His grip. What a deep assurance to know that I'm perfectly kept by God, that my days have a number to them, that my life is written in a book and it is a phenomenal story, with a phenomenal ending. I'm so glad to be alive in Christ.

a hard day

We lost two kitties today. One was a baby kitten, not even a week old. Failure to thrive is all I can gather. It looked just like Paige, having the same father. It was the calico one. The girls ran out early this morning to check on the babies. The gray one was already stiff but was nestled up with the orange one, as if it didn't know. Hard morning, lots of tears and then a funeral behind the shed with songs and prayers. I do not like losing things that I love.

And then right before dinner this evening, we find our most precious Paige in the road, bloody, eyes bulging. It was awful. An awful way to lose a very special friend. The worst part is that Paige was pregnant. I just happened to take some pictures of her today. This is the two of us on the back porch swing. I was reading the Word. She was being the sweet cat that she was. She was as soft as our rabbit.

I've never met a cat as sweet as Paige. She truly was a source of joy in my life and I'm so very sad that she and her unborn babies are gone. I miss her already. Tears.

signs

Ezekiel 36:26-28

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. Then you will live in the land I gave your ancestors; you will be my people, and I will be your God.

Sometimes God gives us a sign...of His goodness...of His presence. And sometimes He gives us two...

life

Sometimes it all feels like a movie, like slow motion; a book unfolding at the speed of the reader's ability to comprehend it. There are these pregnant pauses, moments, and the theme music is cued and the whole unforeseen thing comes to a crescendo and it spills divinely over. It reminds me that I am still alive, still incredibly alive; admonishes that every pore in my skin is indeed open, vulnerable and not the heavy armor that it at times feels to be. It is larger than life but dainty enough to tuck away in a heart-shaped locket. Lost in wonder at how two complexities can coexist at once, like harmony and melody, terrible and wonderful, God and man. This life is wild and fluid yet must surely be framed so on-purpose-like by the Creator of it all. It's for Him to behold with his privileged perspective. It is foolproof from afar, no doubt. It all makes sense in context, from that place of deep space where all is motionless with a quiet hush; where all is seen and understood and not absorbed in the chaotic details of the soul's traffic. Magnificent perfection. Heavenly composed peace. 

Beginnings and ends. Life and death.

the unexpected

I can honestly say that God has brought some of the greatest gifts in my life through unexpected circumstances, scenerios and surprises. So glad that He is God and I'm not

the beauty of devastation

I think one of the most merciful things that God could ever allow in our lives is what might seem to be total and utter devastation. Don't get me wrong, I don't love pain, I don't enjoy suffering, I don't innately want hardships, conflict, trials or anything that is synonymous with such things. In fact, I actually like to laugh until I can't breath, savor the moments as they come, drink deeply from the joy well, etc. If I could do this all the time, I probably would. But now, lying level in this place that I am in, whatever the address is, I find it all has a different feel to it. Life, that is. Laughter now crests over quickly, becomes tears and a smile that is pulled from a place deep inside of me. Gratitude looks like not being able to say all that's in my heart because there is just too much. Eternity feels like gentle brushes and breezes, blowing over me, into me. I'm just different. Life is different, but in the very best way. So sincerely thankful, for everything; especially the hard things.

In preparing my heart for service this morning, the title of this blog post kept running through my head. I was thinking about how much beauty has come from this wilderness I've been in. The Lord has been so gracious, so giving, so kind to me in allowing me to walk through the valley that this last season has been. It's just like Him to do it this way. It's just like Him to give life for death, to level to establish, to allow loss that I would gain. I see that there has been severe loss, severe tearing of the heart. Yet, what has been poured into me, what has been measured back to me from the heart of God is much more valuable. I can't get away from the notion that I am incredibly rich, that I posses all things because I posses Christ. How can you be bursting at the seams when you are so entirely emptied? How can you posses prevailing faith and hope when you've just limped bloody off the battlefield? Jesus. Only Jesus.

I think most of us put a maddening amount of energy into staving off the Cross of Christ in our lives. I'm certain I have. When we are confronted in the gardens of our lives, as Jesus was, with the cup of the fellowship of His sufferings, I think we inwardly plead, "Please not that, God. Anything but that." 'That' constitutes something different for each one of us but, it does exist, perhaps even as our deepest fear. I believe God puts His Divine finger on those very things for a reason. I think He actually intends to drive out fear, bring faith to the places that if not exposed or confronted, would serve ultimately as the thing that keeps us from really dying; the thing that keeps us from the Cross of Christ. And it's fellowship we gain when we say yes to the beauty of devastation, to the scorn and glory of Calvary. What could have been seemingly more devastating than watching God's son (the one who's supposed to save all) die a brutal, unjust death by crucifixion?

During worship today He touched me and I was undone and in my moment of weakness, out flowed these prayers that always get me in trouble. He corners me with His worth, His glory and I'm left powerless to say no, to turn Him away. He has His ways.

Lord, do whatever you want.
Just be God.
Mess me up.
Flip the script.
Turn my world upside down.
I want you, no matter what it looks like.

I just prayed a world of hurt right there but you know what? God is really wise. He's so wise that what looks like total devastation, what looks like a criminal's death on a rugged cross; what seems to be hopeless, dark, even dead, He makes beautiful. He makes all things beautiful, especially the suffering Savior's labor for my soul. He got what He wanted on that cross. He got me.

It is a gift to suffer severe loss in this life, to suffer seemingly unrecoverable devastation. It is meant for abundant life, no doubt. It is meant for an eternal gain that makes the riches in this life seem like dung. It is wisdom to suffer loss in this day that we would not suffer on that day. This is at times what mercy looks like in light of an incredibly wise Maker who can see both the beginning and the end. He is glorious in infinite wisdom.

Wow...the beauty of devastation when the power of the Cross resurrects it. Selah.

my best friend

Lamaze class and my bad poodle hairdo
juvenile giggling over bad art illustrations
pushing babies in strollers
Cindy Crawford kicking our butts
Stories and stories and stories and...'are you still my friend?'
Cathy Flack's ladies group
Cathy Flack's quiche Lorraine
prayer
"How do you shred lettuce?"
"Surely you jest!"
coffee with amaretto creamer in your checkered coffee mugs
Fanny May brownies
stretch marks
M.O.P.S
FIRE! Fire on ya!
KC hotel room video confessions
serving you chicken thighs our first dinner date (and not the boneless/skinless kind!)
a blackhead story
polka dancing
Roy Lessin bible studies
Char Lessin taco dinners
prayer
highlighting your hair the first and last time
Pat & Steve
Doug & Kathy
you fixing Tim's orange handled scissor botch up on my hair
poppy seed dressing
Deja Vu coffee shakes
a bad dog we gave you
our wasp attack incident
Jim Clayberg
running hard after God together
walking through fire with you
X-rated birth footage
me in a wig in a birthing room
yard sales
your amazing fingernails
prayer
homeschooling chaos
the Christmas mouse
sobbing goodbyes the night before you leave for Thailand
getting lost
getting lost again
your house smelling like a health food store
releasing you
you releasing me
cashew chicken and sticky rice
packing up my heart and sending it overseas
the green maternity shirt
Fels Naptha
some very special meals/times with Lidia and Kelli
a yard sale in a snow storm
prayer
tears
delirious laughter with Joel
getting you high on caffeine
a rough but memorable weekend at Cedar Lodge
camping and the best burgers ever
nutritional healing
coconut oil
your oil and vinegar dressing
Callahan's chicken salad and bread
Jambalaya and a Chocolate Mess
handwritten recipe book
knowing your handwriting well
Outreach Center
The Lord's Place
"You are an intercessor"
bread and juice and a candle on the floor
prayer
endless Mike Bickle teachings
Gary Wiens and a front row encounter
consecrated snot mound in KC
fevers and long nights
baby showers
prayer meetings that smell like coffee and old carpet
counseling
 a fearful trip to the health department
knowing me really well
seizures
fibromyalgia
allergies
Dr. Murphy
size 8 jeans
nursing bras
dirty dishes
birthing babies together
ADD
prayer
Skype
cardamom
mint chocolate chip ice cream
DaySpring
mean talking in your sleep
dreams
filthy minivans
diapers
mating socks
Apostolic Prayers CD
books
Vintage Inn
awkward high pitched singing that made me laugh until I cried
harp and bowl
trafficking sets 10pm - Midnight
Derek Loux
1000 Gifts
Ezekiel Rain
dying and crying
Lidia's cooking
breakthroughs
miracles
love
love
love
love
love
love
love
missing you to tears
May 23rd around noon