I can't tell you how many times I've sat down to write. Blogging has been a part of my story ever since Andrew and I got married. It's been subject to the ebb and flow of moving, babies, loss, and mostly reliant upon when I've felt inspired. If I were to look at the number of posts I've published this year (and in the past couple of years), it would be fair to say my blog could be deemed, as Miracle Max declared; "Mostly dead".
Don't get me wrong, I've wanted to write! I have countless thoughts and beginnings in draft, but none that felt qualified for the publish button. Some things I've needed to write for myself, just for the sake of processing. Other things were an attempt to force creativity and fell horribly flat. I've questioned if I've taken it all too seriously, or as in the case with my painting, that I've just lost my mojo. I've seen with other disciplines that certain things just require practice. However, my underlying premise for these creative outlets has been to write or paint "For the joy of it."
I haven't looked up the last time I posted, but can tell you it's been a long time. The painting area I set up has also been long neglected, with brushes going untouched for well over a month or two. This bothered me for a while, but I've come to peace with it. I've know that I can't measure my worth by anything other than what God says about me, so when some things slip through the cracks, it's okay. If or when those things resurface, it will be for the joy of it. It will be genuine, and meaningful for me, and hopefully for you, too.
The other day as we were driving home from church, Olivia noted how the trees were looking ugly without any leaves. I told her while that may be true, the trees needed a rest from a full year of growth and producing. In accordance with the rules of being a 6 year old, she asked: "Why?". I returned a simple answer: "Well, it's their time to sleep." To think about this further, we see that with anything in nature, if something is forced to produce, it will eventually run out of energy. After a time, hens run out of eggs, grass grows and dies, fruit bearing bushes will reach their peak and need to be plowed under, and as Olivia saw, even the trees need to sleep.
Seeing God's order in creation has reminded me that rest is natural and good. If the trees need to take a powder, then it stands to reason that you and I do, too. Waiting for my mojo to return has been a form of forced rest. It's found me savoring a slower life. It's enabled me to do more prioritizing, and allowed for greater depth in my ministry to my family. This has looked like more reading aloud and audio books with the girls, feeding my brain with different podcasts I wouldn't have made time for, pouring more thought and time into what food I put on our table, decluttering our home, and made more breathing space in general. It's brought peace.
At 6 months pregnant, I find myself tiring out and overwhelmed far more easily than I was even few weeks ago. I couldn't have anticipated when this slowing down would happen, and see it as the Lord's great kindness to have limited or even restricted what, who, or to where I might've committed my time and energy. My nature is to do all the things, see all the people, and produce-Produce-PRODUCE!!! For most of my life, my DOING has been a great part of my identity and self worth, so when my blog, painting, and ability to do a lot of things has hit the skids, it's required some heart reassessment. Ultimately, He has guided me to peace in this resting time. I'm not saying I haven't fought it, because I certainly have tried (and worn myself out). Rather, I'm seeing the benefit and absolute rightness of this mandated stillness.
For right now, I'm taking a cue from the trees, and letting the hard grown leaves fall from these branches. It's time to rest. It's time to put away any guilt for not going hard and producing. I'm feeling the call to be more of a Mary than a Martha, and remember Who calls me to the better things.
I know I can't be the only one, so I'll ask. Is the Lord calling you into a season of rest? Is your value wrapped up too much in what you're doing? Are your yeses (to even good things!) limiting the depth of your current ministry? Will you remember the trees and unburden your branches? If this this you, I'd love to hear your feedback in the comments, or a pm! For those of us doers, resting can be a struggle, but it's one worth fighting for.
November 21, 2017
May 29, 2017
Get your Own Cheetos, Devil!
I've caught myself believing a lie. As it goes with most lies, it's incredibly subtle. You don't really notice it until it's kicked off it's shoes, pulled up a chair, and starts demanding that you share your Cheetos. This is disturbing on a couple of counts. The first is that I like to consider myself as having a keen awareness of anything that tries to sneak into the door of my heart or mind. But I failed. Secondly, I'm a firm believer that unless we're the best of friends, you can't have any of my Cheetos. Seriously, get your own bag.
The lie that I'm talking about is this:
That there is a scarcity of God's goodness.
When I read these words, I shudder a bit. Seeing it so plainly in black 12 font seems too obvious for it to have taken any bit of space in my heart. It's a classic, textbook move, but I fell for it: to see what God is giving others that I deeply desire, but may not have again: more children.
The Tease
Darling pregnancy announcements, cute new maternity clothes with jeans finally designed to look good and stay put, beautiful blossoming bellies, due dates, showers and the expectation of a precious bundles...all right in front of me, but not for me. It may look differently for you. Other people's homes, spouse, marriage, or job may be what's deliciously dangling just out of your reach. When I'm steeped in self pity, its easy for beautiful things (that I normally LOVE to rejoice in with others) to become little knives that cut and drain the life out of me. The lie deepens when you feel that thing has been given to someone else for the sole purpose of spiting you.
The Timing
Timing is everything when it comes to fooling a person. Making us feel less-than, unimportant or forgotten should happen when we're completely exhausted, busy, or distracted. It should happen late at night, ideally just before going to sleep. Laying in bed awake, thinking about something is a great way for a wound to fester.
The Truth
The enemy is so skillful in leading us down the path to self pity. By the time we get there, wallowing around feels like the truest thing we could ever do. Though it may feel totally justifiable to start hanging up streamers, balloons and order a cake for your pity party, the truth is that self pity is rooted in selfishness. For me, the cycle looks like this: Being glad for what the Lord has given me, longing for increased blessing but knowing it's not guarenteed, beginning to forget or doubt God's goodness, seeing/hearing about others receiving that I long for, comparing what they have, feeling sorry for what I don't have, then diving headlong into full blown self pity, doubt, and all manner of ugliness. Thankfully, God is long-suffering and faithful. He pulls me up off the floor, dries my tears, helps me clean up the mess of soggy kleenex and droopy streamers, and points me back to the cross.
Sadly, the cycle I mentioned can only happen when I forget the cross and what Jesus has accomplished. It shames me that I can so easily forget Him and the best gift. I'm reminded of the necessity to follow Paul's words about dying daily. DAILY!!! Life in this broken world, with it's shadows and struggles and the indwelling sin nature is the reason we must do battle every. single. day. To leave our swords on the table is the same as flinging open our front doors, and inviting the enemy in to sit on the couch and snuggle up. We have to continually preach the gospel to ourselves, because we are so prone to forget it. We have a choice between walking in death, or in life and it's fullness of joy. It's worth the fight!
Today, I see the lie for what it is. DEATH.
I choose to believe the truth that God is infinitely good to me. To remember that He withholds no good thing to those who walk uprightly. His picture of fullness for me will likely look different than it will for you. So it's unfair to compare gifts or even burdens, because they are uniquely given with intention, to refine and grow us. More for someone else doesn't mean less for me. As I've popped the last of this round's pity party balloons, I'm determined now more than ever to keep my eyes on the cross, and remember that there is NO scarcity of His goodness.
Have you found yourself believing a lie? This lie, or another one? I encourage you to join me in picking up your sword. Let's do battle for our soul's sake, and to reclaim the joy that is ours when we are walking in the truth. Afterwards, I'll invite you over to share my Cheetos.
The lie that I'm talking about is this:
That there is a scarcity of God's goodness.
When I read these words, I shudder a bit. Seeing it so plainly in black 12 font seems too obvious for it to have taken any bit of space in my heart. It's a classic, textbook move, but I fell for it: to see what God is giving others that I deeply desire, but may not have again: more children.
The Tease
Darling pregnancy announcements, cute new maternity clothes with jeans finally designed to look good and stay put, beautiful blossoming bellies, due dates, showers and the expectation of a precious bundles...all right in front of me, but not for me. It may look differently for you. Other people's homes, spouse, marriage, or job may be what's deliciously dangling just out of your reach. When I'm steeped in self pity, its easy for beautiful things (that I normally LOVE to rejoice in with others) to become little knives that cut and drain the life out of me. The lie deepens when you feel that thing has been given to someone else for the sole purpose of spiting you.
The Timing
Timing is everything when it comes to fooling a person. Making us feel less-than, unimportant or forgotten should happen when we're completely exhausted, busy, or distracted. It should happen late at night, ideally just before going to sleep. Laying in bed awake, thinking about something is a great way for a wound to fester.
The Truth
The enemy is so skillful in leading us down the path to self pity. By the time we get there, wallowing around feels like the truest thing we could ever do. Though it may feel totally justifiable to start hanging up streamers, balloons and order a cake for your pity party, the truth is that self pity is rooted in selfishness. For me, the cycle looks like this: Being glad for what the Lord has given me, longing for increased blessing but knowing it's not guarenteed, beginning to forget or doubt God's goodness, seeing/hearing about others receiving that I long for, comparing what they have, feeling sorry for what I don't have, then diving headlong into full blown self pity, doubt, and all manner of ugliness. Thankfully, God is long-suffering and faithful. He pulls me up off the floor, dries my tears, helps me clean up the mess of soggy kleenex and droopy streamers, and points me back to the cross.
Sadly, the cycle I mentioned can only happen when I forget the cross and what Jesus has accomplished. It shames me that I can so easily forget Him and the best gift. I'm reminded of the necessity to follow Paul's words about dying daily. DAILY!!! Life in this broken world, with it's shadows and struggles and the indwelling sin nature is the reason we must do battle every. single. day. To leave our swords on the table is the same as flinging open our front doors, and inviting the enemy in to sit on the couch and snuggle up. We have to continually preach the gospel to ourselves, because we are so prone to forget it. We have a choice between walking in death, or in life and it's fullness of joy. It's worth the fight!
Today, I see the lie for what it is. DEATH.
I choose to believe the truth that God is infinitely good to me. To remember that He withholds no good thing to those who walk uprightly. His picture of fullness for me will likely look different than it will for you. So it's unfair to compare gifts or even burdens, because they are uniquely given with intention, to refine and grow us. More for someone else doesn't mean less for me. As I've popped the last of this round's pity party balloons, I'm determined now more than ever to keep my eyes on the cross, and remember that there is NO scarcity of His goodness.
Have you found yourself believing a lie? This lie, or another one? I encourage you to join me in picking up your sword. Let's do battle for our soul's sake, and to reclaim the joy that is ours when we are walking in the truth. Afterwards, I'll invite you over to share my Cheetos.
February 15, 2017
The Silver Shoes
The past few weeks have been rough on my little family. It started with Andrew getting a cold/cough three weeks ago, followed by my getting the flu, then the girls coming down with colds and a fever after that. I guess you could say we know how to party.
Being mostly house-bound, and in attempt to avoid cabin fever, I've been extremely grateful for the magical wonder know as audio books. When I was growing up, my siblings and I listened to "Your Story Hour", and Odyssey tapes with a great ferocity. We couldn't get enough of them. In our house, if your birthday was coming up, you were closest in line to getting the newest released set of tapes (and later CDs), which meant that you ruled sibling-dom. Odyssey tapes were like currency to us pre-internet adolecents.
You needed chores done? Wanted your back tickled? Desired your bed made in such a way? DONESKI. We became quite skilled in bargaining. It would go something like this: "I'll let you listen to JUST SIDE A if you do _______ for me." "Oh, but side A is only X minutes long, and X chore would take me X amount of time, so really I should get to listen to THE WHOLE TAPE." Throw in exaggerating the length of a tape, or strenuosity of a chore, add pain and suffering clauses, written contracts in kid scratch, and you get the idea of how dearly we valued our audio stories.
Remembering how much I enjoyed listening as a kid, combined with post flu recovery and NOT wanting to read for hours on end, I was happy to fork over a few bucks on some newly discovered audio deals. As I'd recently screened The Wizard of Oz with Olivia, I figured she would enjoy the book even more than the movie. This particular unabridged version was narrated by Anne Hathaway. If I ever loved her as an actress, her voice acting only endeared her to me further. She made the book come alive with unique voices and such drama that had Olivia riveted. Within three days, Olivia had listened to the 3.5 hour long book narration TWICE! My child, who MUST meet her daily word quota, was rendered nearly mute, hands occupied with playdoh for hours on end, as her mind came alive with a new story.
As I listened to Anne unfold the tale, what struck me was how vastly different the book was from the movie. Yes, okay, so you've got me. I loved to read as a kid, but sadly, never read The Wizard of Oz. I guess I figured they were closely similar, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I was mesmerized as I listened along, to hear a few familiar parts, with the rest seeming entirely new.
Toward the end of the story, there was a part that made me catch my breath. It was after the Lion had received his courage, the Scarecrow his brain, and the Tin-man his heart. All of her friend's desires had come true, while the Wizard's promise to return Dorothy home had been thwarted. At her wit's end, she found herself before Glinda, desperate to know how she could get home. Glinda told her that she had ALWAYS possessed the power to return, if she had just clicked her silver (yes, silver) heels together three times. Pondering this thought, Dorothy's comrades shared that if she had clicked her heels much earlier in the narrative, that each of their journeys would have turned out vastly different. Dorothy's displacement from her home, from her comforts and everything she knew, in short, her suffering, had ended up fulfilling their quests for wholeness. It had made them better characters by the end of the book.
This thought has stuck with me, which is likely why I'm not letting this post go unwritten. It's a truth I've been learning in a new way since we began saying goodbye to our babies. The truth is that we are not an island. That what might feel like being ripped apart may work as the perfectly timed catalyst for other people's growth and wholeness. This makes me see suffering in a different way. It rightly tugs my thoughts away from how my trials are effecting JUST ME, to how those struggles (as well as my response to them!) may change the lives of those around me.
As much as I may have wanted to click my heels to change our story, to be loving an almost one year old son (his sister, and siblings after) that's not how it was supposed to go. There is a purpose, or perhaps many purposes for how things have happened. I may not ever know why, but I do realize that just maybe, we have walked this road not only for our own growth, but for yours as well. At least that's been my prayer.
I don't know where you are on your journey, or what hurts you're enduring, but I hope you'll be encouraged that this (whatever THIS is) isn't just for you. What you're going through has the power to bring greater holiness to us, too. Some of us need to walk down the road a while, carrying a deep yearning for something, before we can think new thoughts, have our hearts moved, or be given greater courage. Your story may be just the thing to grow it in us. Without you, we might not be the people God wants us to become. This community thing is life changing. I believe your day of healing and being made right is coming. But for now, hold tight inside of your shoes, and don't let anything stop you from continuing on your journey, and from taking us alongside you.
"Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9
Being mostly house-bound, and in attempt to avoid cabin fever, I've been extremely grateful for the magical wonder know as audio books. When I was growing up, my siblings and I listened to "Your Story Hour", and Odyssey tapes with a great ferocity. We couldn't get enough of them. In our house, if your birthday was coming up, you were closest in line to getting the newest released set of tapes (and later CDs), which meant that you ruled sibling-dom. Odyssey tapes were like currency to us pre-internet adolecents.
You needed chores done? Wanted your back tickled? Desired your bed made in such a way? DONESKI. We became quite skilled in bargaining. It would go something like this: "I'll let you listen to JUST SIDE A if you do _______ for me." "Oh, but side A is only X minutes long, and X chore would take me X amount of time, so really I should get to listen to THE WHOLE TAPE." Throw in exaggerating the length of a tape, or strenuosity of a chore, add pain and suffering clauses, written contracts in kid scratch, and you get the idea of how dearly we valued our audio stories.
Remembering how much I enjoyed listening as a kid, combined with post flu recovery and NOT wanting to read for hours on end, I was happy to fork over a few bucks on some newly discovered audio deals. As I'd recently screened The Wizard of Oz with Olivia, I figured she would enjoy the book even more than the movie. This particular unabridged version was narrated by Anne Hathaway. If I ever loved her as an actress, her voice acting only endeared her to me further. She made the book come alive with unique voices and such drama that had Olivia riveted. Within three days, Olivia had listened to the 3.5 hour long book narration TWICE! My child, who MUST meet her daily word quota, was rendered nearly mute, hands occupied with playdoh for hours on end, as her mind came alive with a new story.
As I listened to Anne unfold the tale, what struck me was how vastly different the book was from the movie. Yes, okay, so you've got me. I loved to read as a kid, but sadly, never read The Wizard of Oz. I guess I figured they were closely similar, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I was mesmerized as I listened along, to hear a few familiar parts, with the rest seeming entirely new.
Toward the end of the story, there was a part that made me catch my breath. It was after the Lion had received his courage, the Scarecrow his brain, and the Tin-man his heart. All of her friend's desires had come true, while the Wizard's promise to return Dorothy home had been thwarted. At her wit's end, she found herself before Glinda, desperate to know how she could get home. Glinda told her that she had ALWAYS possessed the power to return, if she had just clicked her silver (yes, silver) heels together three times. Pondering this thought, Dorothy's comrades shared that if she had clicked her heels much earlier in the narrative, that each of their journeys would have turned out vastly different. Dorothy's displacement from her home, from her comforts and everything she knew, in short, her suffering, had ended up fulfilling their quests for wholeness. It had made them better characters by the end of the book.
This thought has stuck with me, which is likely why I'm not letting this post go unwritten. It's a truth I've been learning in a new way since we began saying goodbye to our babies. The truth is that we are not an island. That what might feel like being ripped apart may work as the perfectly timed catalyst for other people's growth and wholeness. This makes me see suffering in a different way. It rightly tugs my thoughts away from how my trials are effecting JUST ME, to how those struggles (as well as my response to them!) may change the lives of those around me.
As much as I may have wanted to click my heels to change our story, to be loving an almost one year old son (his sister, and siblings after) that's not how it was supposed to go. There is a purpose, or perhaps many purposes for how things have happened. I may not ever know why, but I do realize that just maybe, we have walked this road not only for our own growth, but for yours as well. At least that's been my prayer.
I don't know where you are on your journey, or what hurts you're enduring, but I hope you'll be encouraged that this (whatever THIS is) isn't just for you. What you're going through has the power to bring greater holiness to us, too. Some of us need to walk down the road a while, carrying a deep yearning for something, before we can think new thoughts, have our hearts moved, or be given greater courage. Your story may be just the thing to grow it in us. Without you, we might not be the people God wants us to become. This community thing is life changing. I believe your day of healing and being made right is coming. But for now, hold tight inside of your shoes, and don't let anything stop you from continuing on your journey, and from taking us alongside you.
"Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9
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