When Friction Starts a Fire {This Day Thursday:Renewal}

We tend to think of our values as neat nouns that fit in specific lists. The “values” list. And the “not values” list. At least that is how I tend to see them and explain them when called upon to do so. We don’t speak or act in certain ways because they just aren’t in line with our values. Some values are at the top and are indispensible. Some nearer the bottom and open to debate.

And then it happens, one value bumps into another. It budges in line. I value life more than money. Time more than money. But when money is required to enrich our lives or schedule, I’m forced to examine which I value more at this point.

It sounds technical, but it’s really not. Choices is all we call it. Maybe you sit and ask yourself, “Which do I value more?” Or maybe you just ask, “Can I afford to do this?” But what you are doing is weighing your values in the balances and seeing which holds more weight.

Where am I going with this? It has come into the forefront of my mind a lot in the last months as I’ve embarked on a brand new thought process with food. And no, this isn’t one of those “Watch out, she is on her diet again” moments. And yes, even if you have the healthiest body image in the world, you can still benefit from this line of thought.

Painful emotional times are often the result of friction between values in real life. For example, my RA is greatly influenced by the foods I put in my mouth. That caused some friction based on what I should eat and what I wanted to eat. I valued the health of my joints and the subsequent happiness of my home more than I valued bread (regular bread that is). So I eliminated gluten.

Cutting out gluten offered some relief, but not enough. So I took another step- no grains. Again, I valued health and happiness over overnight oatmeal (really, really yummy overnight oatmeal), so the sacrifice was made.

All the way until I found myself completing my first Whole30 and pursuing a paleo lifestyle minus the evolutionary theory.

It’s been a while since I researched anything so thoroughly, but in the process I came to a greater understanding of how awesome our bodies are and how God made us with such care.

But God also showed me more and more about the value of His law in my life, His Gospel in my renewal, His Word in my diet, and His wisdom in my decisions.

I will take four posts (at least that is the plan) to reflect on these things, because they matter to me and I believe they matter to you. But in case you are skeptical, take a moment to answer these questions:

* Am I sin-sick?

* Am I making choices that are inconsistent with my values, or harmful to those I value?

* Am I wearied by the junk I see happening around me?

* Am I struggling to see God's love in the events in my life?

* Am I enslaved to the bad choices I make?

* Am I in need of encouragment to keep making the good choices I am making?

Really you could have just answered the first question, but if you answered "yes" to any of these please stick with me in the coming weeks. God might not be calling you to a pantry overhaul, but He is calling you to a fulfilling, satisfying life with Him starting now- and I would love to walk with you. 

The Gift of Kindness {GratiTuesday}

Let me just make this clear before I begin- I am way more fun with kids that don't belong to me. Right, I know none technically belong to me at all, but you know what I mean. A neighbor kid comes over, a visit with my nieces and nephews, and I am pretty fun. Not crazy fun mind you, but pretty fun.

So when I was feeling fun with my kids the other day, I decided to make the most of it. It was one of those times where I turned into a monster and it was a good thing. One of the very few times.

I grabbed the toddler and pulled her into my arms as I collapsed to the ground. I roared, "You'll never get away!" She screamed, "I need save! I need save! Waaaa! Waaaa!" Her rescuers snatched her from my clutches and climbed on top of me for a wrestling match. As I rolled on the floor tickling the kids, (this actually happened- I'm still shocked) I rolled onto my back.

It was then that I got a firm heel to the eye socket.

With one powerful swing, the two-year-old kicked me in the eye. Direct hit. I held my eye, not quite in tears, and looked at the perpetrator, smiling triumphantly. The other kids all turned to her with shouts of, "You can't do that," but she was just so happy that she had incapacitated the monster momentarily that she kept shrieking, "I did it! I did it!"

We laughed. It was hilarious really.

I write today because on Thursday I will be giving thanks with my family and I pray you find yourself doing the same things with family and/or friends. I write this story because we fall victim to fatigue and "too much togetherness." If not with family and friends, then with other people throughout the year.

And honestly there are times we just want to kick someone in the eye because let's face it, they can be a real monster.

But people aren't monsters, no matter what act they put on. And a swift kick to the eye socket rarely rescues anyone. Ok, maybe never.

I am praying that as we all navigate our holidays that one thing prevails, kindness. Not necessarily our kindness to others (though that would be cool), but God's kindness to us.

The Lord is righteous in all His ways and kind in all His works.

Psalm 145:17 

In all His works, God shows mercy and love and kindness. Overflowing kindness that comes from a love that knows no bounds. And He infuses us with that love! What a gift! For that we can be truly thankful.

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P.S. To all my family and friends with whom I am able to celebrate any of life's adventures... I don't want to kick you in the eye. I really love you so much! XOXO

Your Outside Voice! {Three Word Wednesday}

It could have annoyed me. The squealing, the dawdling, the giggling. I could have let it get to me. Had my children been the culprits and my attitude gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, it most certainly would have.

But it was me. Me! Squealing. Dawdling. Giggling. With one of my very dearest friends. And then we added another friend to the mix and it escalated.

Time to myself is a rarity and a gift. Literally. A birthday gift. A night away. Without the "office." I love my job, but everyone needs a moment to give your brain a break from responsibilities. Even homemakers.

So there we were doing all those things that girls a fraction of our age do, and loving it. And after our stay, right after the magnetic plastic keys were placed at the front desk, I turned around and saw her.

My aunt. From Chicago (which was hours and hours away from the hotel, by the way.) I called her name. She turned, did a double take. 

Then came the shriek. The scream. The unavoidable utterance that disregarded the dozen or so other people in the room. We used our outside voices.

Hugsscreamsquestions! "What are you doing here?! This is SO WEIRD!"

My uncle and cousins joined in. It just so happened we were in the same city (2+ hours from my home), same hotel, on the same night. And had our schedules been off even 10 minutes we wouldn't have ever known it had happened. Thanks, God. Still thanks. You're the best. 

Introductions were made with my friend. More hugs. Goodbyes. And I climbed in the truck high on love.

Driving home I thought that's gotta be what heaven is like. Enjoying our friendship and freedom, and then screaming. Uninhibited shouts of joy! Imagine joining our brothers and sisters in eternity and all the shouting. What a party!

The thing I tend to forget is that the party starts here. Shouting for joy happens here. Happens now. No amount of junk the devil throws at us will quiet the joy and freedom we have received in Jesus. That's where satan trips us up. If he can quiet the true joy of believers, he can drown it out in the tears and murderous threats of hatred. When thanksgiving remains at a dull roar the lies of hopelessness flood our ears.

The reality is there is necessary grief at times. But there is necessary thanksgiving at all times.

I am too often silent. I feel it in my bones. The guilt of rejoicing in the small while others are in pain. The lies crowding my senses until thankfulness is not even a memory. 

But the Bible repeatedly tells us to use our outside voices. All the time. Sometimes we need permission. Whether you need it or not- here it is. Boast in who your God is. Boast in His love. His power. His resurrection. His goodness. It is your privilege. Your gift.

Let's get noisy, people! Praying your joy is raucous today. Raucous!

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Linking up with the beautiful and busy Simply Beth again today!

If you are looking for a soundtrack for your joy, either to inspire it or reflect it, may I suggest the newest album from Rend Collective? It is raucous in the best possible way.

Labels Worth Keeping {Three Word Wednesday}

I'm back!!! What WHAT?! And for a Three Word Wednesday from my dear friend, Simply Beth! Not promising any new revelations. Kept up with the writing and communicating over the summer about as much as I anticipated- which wasn't much. But it was a nice healthy break and I am ready to write!

Soooo... I've been thinking...

The other day I performed my ritualistic and somewhat cursory, scan of my Facebook feed. I'm not here calling anyone out, so I'll keep it vague. A person I know referred to their spouse in a pretty derogatory way. Not an angry tirade against their spouse. Just a pattern of speech that seemed to flow pretty freely. Kind of a "ball-and-chain" reference.

Not a fan.

At. All.

And it just so happens I've been contemplating the devil's calculated use of divide and conquer with us simple human beings. It's all over the Bible. Just look at the first humans. Their consumption didn't separate us from God alone, but from each other.

The first husband and wife, and every couple since then. Every person since then.

Contrast that with Christ and the ministry of reconciliation He has given to us.

 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.

2 Corinthians 5:17-19

People think it is the labels we put on each other that divide us. I think we're just using the wrong labels.

I've heard my husband refer to me in many ways. Not one derogatory. Our current favorite is true love, a label adhered during a conversation following Frozen.

This isn't supposed to gross you out. And please don't think our every word to each other to be drizzled with the nectar of love. It's just different. A good different. It reminds me who I am talking to and about. It seasons my words.

It keeps me from buying into the idea that our words are just words. That the careless words we speak in haste won't become a pattern in our lives. Because words can pack a punch. We know it's true. And if the devil can play into one insecurity using a comment I shouldn't have made (yes, I am culprit numero uno), then it's time I figured out a new speech borne of a new creation. It's a totally different language- not in an effort to appear better than others, but as a revelation of who I am in Christ. And who they are as well.

Because kind words pack a punch too. And praise God for that.

"Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person." 

Colossians 4:6

So I'm bringing back labels. Labels, like most habits, don't exist in a vacuum. We are born seeking an identity. To whom do we belong? Those of us blessed to know the Lord find our identity in Him. But removing the negative labels we have allowed to litter our self-image isn't enough. We won't keep them off unless we replace them with something new. 

That's what Christ did. He replaced the A of the adulterous woman with the F of forgiven. (John 7-8)

And in giving us the ministry of reconciliation, He has called us to do the same. To grab the emotional goo-gone and windex and scrape away the labels that wallpaper the broken hearts around us. To apply the ointment and adhesive of forgiveness and purpose. Labels like "His." Like "My Neighbor." "Brother." "Sister." He cemented us together in the Body of Christ for a reason, and that's not to do any verbal amputations, but to minister, heal, and work together in His kingdom. 

God spoke and it was. His Spirit in us gives us the ability to speak true life to our neighbors. Praying the Holy Spirit works that in you today and this week, into your heart and your words. Wouldn't it be an awesome thing to see reconciliation in our own lives? Our own neighborhoods? Our own towns? Praising God that He can make it so. Love you all.

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And if you need a soundtrack to this particular post, let me direct you to YouTube and the fabulous stylings of Toby Mac in "Speak Life" and Matthew West in "Child of the One True King." I know there are many others. Please feel free to share your favorites with me. I'm always looking for good tunes!

Marigolds and Miracles {What to do When This Mess of World Steals Your Peace}

The husband is back! Safe. Sound. Here. Praise the Lord.

In his absence, my parents ventured north to help me around the home. Thank you thank you thank you...

My parents each have a specific set of skills and I know that. So I made lists. Mom and I went grocery shopping, and she assumed the role of "Laundry Fairy." My dad's list consisted of fix-it type stuff that needed to be done that we just never get around to doing. That and gardening.

"You still have a rabbit?" His question referred to the rabbit residing in our backyard our first year here. The animal was huge and destructive. And impossible to intimidate. It was because of this rabbit that I started planting marigolds. Even after the rabbit disappeared marigolds have kept their vigil and rabbits have kept away from my garden.

This past weekend, as I put my garden in the ground, sowing seeds and plants into the black earth, the marigolds stood small sentries.

Then I thought of my children.

Little sprouts growing, bearing fruit.

It is enough to scare the daylights out of me. Because I'm not guarding them against ravenous rabbits, but a lion seeking someone to devour.

And Christ's admonition falls heavy on my shoulders, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them..."

If Christ was talking about simple Sunday school and church, I could rest easy. Check and check. Enroll them in VBS... Check. After-school church programs... Check.

But something tells me that Christ is talking the walk. 

And I am easily convinced that if anyone is hindering their walk with Christ, it's me.

Casting stones and careless words. Is that really giving my children Jesus?

Not to mention a world ravaged by wars, strife, struggle. Abroad. Domestic. Human beings are capable of such atrocities and I am one and the same. What can my feeble efforts do to stop the world from breaking my young ones to bits?

I drown in thoughts, reaching toward scriptures until I surface. I am buoyed by one in particular:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Philippians 4:8

At one time I hastened through this verse, summarizing "just think about the happy things," as though pixie dust and happy thoughts would carry me over cares.

But that's not what it says. Focus on what is true. I list the truths, deliberately. The Truth illuminates the dark dread. The Beauty of Christ is the antidote to the fear poison.

I can worry myself sick. Fears consume in ways no "happy thoughts" can battle. But when I focus on what is true, just, pure, lovely, commendable... I am reminded of God. Of His love, power, mercy, providence. It has never depended on me. That was never the point. All along I was only to plant the marigolds and trust the Maker. 

Relief. Release.

Plant marigolds. Build fences. Resist the fear that would compel us to smother our sprouts "for their own protection." 

Instead, trust the Only One who has overcome the world. The One who began this good work in us in the first place, and Who promises to bring it to completion. 

Where His truth reigns, there reigns peace. Where His wisdom prevails, there prevails peace. Where His peace permeates, the world cannot overcome.

And it is in His peace that the big kids and little children of the world encounter Christ.

But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.

James 3:17

Embarrassing Grace

We made it through the first few verses of the passage and stopped to discuss. My daughter and a third grade boy sat across the table from me. They answered the questions I asked them and we looked down at our Bibles to continue reading.

"I already know this story." It wasn't arrogant. Just an off-hand remark from my daughter who indeed knows and remembers the story well.

"I do too," I replied. "But I'm learning something new from it right now."

"Really?"

"You bet." 

I wasn't lying.

I asked them, "Why did Jesus wash the disciples' feet?"
"Because He loved them."
"Ok," I answered, "but why wash their feet? Couldn't He have just bought them something pretty?"
"Jesus doesn't just give pretty things to show His love."

She was right of course. We talked about how Jesus took the place of a servant, the lowest of the servants, and He looked at what made them dirty. He put the nastiness right in His face.

"I see it. I see your filth. And I'm not avoiding it. I'm not condoning it. I'm not glossing over it. I'm not giving you pretty things and ignoring the muck that has accumulated from a life of weary travel. I'm taking care of it."

I wonder how rigorous a cleansing it was. It always looks so poetic and gentle. Clear water cascading down caramel toes. How His hands must have felt.

I asked the kids what they thought went through the disciples' minds as Jesus did this.

"Uh? Okkkkkaaayyy?" I'd agree with that answer.

Peter couldn't handle it. "You shall never wash my feet." (John 13:8)

He was embarrassed. Embarrassed by His rabbi. Embarrassed that the man he followed would do something even below Peter's station. At that moment he probably would have been happier with something pretty.

And I get that. Because after reading this passage and hearing a sermon about a love that never gives up, I wonder why. I don't get it. I'm embarrassed.

Why, Lord? Why do you keep doing this? Day after day. It's the same old dirt. I can't keep it off my feet. I try and try and try. Why demean yourself to wash me when I'm just going to do it again? You are holy, so holy. Don't do this to yourself. I've tried it all already. I'll totally understand if you want to quit on me.

And I know I'm not the only one who feels this way because just an hour later one of the cutest children on the planet (who is not even mine) asked that very question of my husband during the children's sermon. Her three year old brain registered Christ's sacrifice, and her three year old lips questioned "why"?

"Because He loves us so much."

She took that in. "When will Jesus stop loving us?"

"Never. He will never ever stop loving us."

Her foster mother smiled. Eyes around the sanctuary glistened as the mystery of God's love was explained in the simplest of terms to the littlest of souls. Broken hearts in the room swelled with the abundant love of Christ.

That three year old heart bears the pain of abandonment. The people meant to care for her have given up on her. This morning, she was given the knowledge of a love that never ends. Never ever. It's something her mind just couldn't comprehend.

We are so used to giving up. We can't escape it. At some point in our lives someone has given up on us.

We've given up on ourselves.

So when God makes Himself low enough to put His face not into our face, into our feet, and say I will wash and wash and wash. Every day. Because love doesn't give up.

It's just too much.

And He was leading by example. "For I have given you an example that you should do just as I have done to you." His gift of love was one to be shared, never contained.

So who are you going to embarrass today? Who will find a love in you a love that never quits? Step away from the pretty things. It's time to get dirty.

I'm praying for you this week, Sweet Friends. Praying that you are overwhelmed by Christ's love. Praying that His love steps into your life in a way that inspires you to serve others. Praying that you know you will always give up on yourself before Jesus does.

Because Jesus will never stop loving you. Never ever.

Just One Day {He Will Deliver}

I can't think of a more appropriate way to begin Lent than an Ash Wednesday morning meltdown.

If you are preparing to read a hilarious account of my children's impetuous hi-jinks, think again. The meltdown was mine. And when you think meltdown, think nuclear. Think Mt. Wild Woman eruption. Think oatmeal expanding in the microwave and running down the sides of the bowl. Yuck.

That was basically it. All because of my own hang ups with the quality of my housekeeping. I guess the good part is that the only one who ended up in tears was me.

"I quit. I'm a horrible mom. I'm getting a different job."

My husband held me, rubbed my back, reassured me that I was a "good mom." But my conscience told me otherwise.

We decided to come up with a plan. My husband is giving up yelling for Lent. I told him if that was the case with me, I would have blown it already. In fact, if I had given up yelling, swearing, or crying, I would have blown all of those in record time.Thankfully, I just gave up coffee.

Wait a minute... "Do you think that's why I'm acting this way?"

"Well..." I could hear the gears turning as he contemplated the best response. "Maybe that would explain it a little."

He reminded me that the company coming wouldn't care what the house looked like. Rebecca would understand. She has five kids and is so full of grace, it just sloshes right out of her every time she moves. (You like that image, Sloshy Rebecca? :) )

"I know," I said. "That's not the point. I'm just asking for one day. I'm not asking for every day. I'm not even asking for every week. I can't get my house together for one day. Just one day!"

So today is the day after and I guess I can only say Thank God.

I wrote about Lent last year. About how its turbulence shakes us out of the inevitable settling in our souls for the comforts of this world. It's about returning to the Lord. Looking to the stone that the builders rejected.

I'll give it to you straight, yesterday was a day where dawn to dusk I had to lean on Jesus to get me through.

And that is a gift.

I was reminded of that it in my desperately needed quiet time this week too. In Genesis 12, God promises to give Abram's offspring the land at Shechem. So Abram builds an altar and worships God there.

The land hadn't been delivered to them yet. It was just at God's word that Abram found reason to worship. There was no "show me the money" attitude that we so often require today when it comes to worshiping God.

Just one day. That's all I was asking. God promises to deliver. Only He will give me days without end. One day my act will get put back together. The tears, the yelling, the poison words- those will be done. There will be no more begging for help, because my Helper will be there.

In the meantime, until that land is mine, I will believe His promise and I will worship. The altar may be a coffee-stained counter, or a laundry-covered basement, or a tear-stained pillow. But He makes beautiful things out of dust.

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Linking late with the always fabulous, Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday <3

Human Humidifiers- Why Jesus is More Than Just an Inside Deal

Hurrah! Welcome to my celebration post! Today marks the 1 year, 4 day anniversary of this blog! Woot! Really, I just got curious as to when I started this whole deal and flipped back to my first post. 40 Days (posted 2/13/13) was my humble explanation of what Lent really is, and why I was starting this blog. It's nice to look back on past writing and think it ain't bad, but it also ain't quite me.

Then there's this quote: "So will I give something up? Well, it's noon on Ash Wednesday and I still haven't decided. Will I decide to "take" something up? Ta-da! Blog! Looks like I may be taking up courage this Lent. And then perhaps this 40 days will give way to a more incredible resurrection joy that my writing can only hope to convey."

BOOM! So there you go, I've been on this blog here for just over a year and I think I will be celebrating that somehow with my kids this President's Day. God is good.

Now on to the actual point of writing today...

I've been through a whole season of Messy Monday's and yet this one didn't hit me until last night. I've had ideas bouncing around in my head for a few days, none materializing into anything worth publishing, but then the precious preschooler looks at me at supper last night and tells me, "Mom, you will haf to put someping on my lips because de orange hurts dem."

Citrus fruit really picks a heckuva time to be in season. Her lips flamed red as she wiped them with her napkin. Her attempts to wipe away the burn.

It's on the faces of kids all over the place. The wind-burned lips and cheeks. Our own hands cracked red and bleeding from the lack of moisture. It pains me to think what state we'd be in without our humidifiers. So when my dear one pointed out her dry condition, the first thing I thought of was living water.

God designed our bodies with this incredible need for saturation. And not just on the inside. Sure, we need to ingest water to survive, but we need more than just that. Without moisture seeping in from the outside, life becomes painful. Citrus fruit burns. The cracks in our skin and souls are easily irritated. Those things that would give us pleasure: our adorable kids, our talented friends, our endearing spouses, grate on our nerves. The kids become pests. Our friends a source of envy. Our spouses a nuisance.

We try to fix it ourselves. We clean up our act- rubbing our souls raw. We steep our hands in water for an hour a week, thinking that one hour will make the difference when there are 167 other hours in the week to dry us out. We slather on yummy lotion that is more scent than salve.

Meanwhile, the moisture within us wicks away little by little until we are dry. Bone dry.

We wonder why there is so much pain, so much hate, in this world.

Satan is drying us out.

And it's hard to bring healing to others when we are just so irritated.

Hey, Christians, I have news for you. The world is in need of some serious humidifiers. Some human humidifiers full of the living water. Not just the ones on TV and the radio. Not the kind that publish books and grace home libraries. The ones who need the living water the most, the ones dying without it, are the ones who don't watch those TV shows, listen to those stations, or read those books. They are the people who walk from place to place in your world, and they are cracked and bleeding.

God put you in their atmosphere deliberately. No accident there. He loves you. He loves them. And you can never hear that too much. That's what humidifying does. It permeates the world with life-giving water.

Let's plug in for a moment-

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. Colossians 3:16-17

Paul was talking about Christians living alongside other Christians. Christians get dry too. I have been a lot lately.

In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. Matthew 5:16

Jesus was talking about believers living alongside nonbelievers.

The common denominator is this- Everyone needs God, and God alone gets the glory. That is the honest truth. God is the balm that heals. Jesus is the only living water that satisfies. He reminds us that we are His instruments. To each other. To the world. So fill us up, Lord, with your presence. And plug us in! 

Who is your human humidifier? Who encourages you? Who showers you with Christ's love? Thank God for that person. Ask Him to show you ways to thank them for the gift of encouragement, love, and truth in Christ.

Who can you share Jesus with today? It doesn't have to be a testimony- just thankfulness and light can be balm to a wounded soul. A listening ear goes a long way.

Are you cracked and dry? Are you in need of extra encouragement? Visit my Facebook page and message me. Let me know how I can pray for you.

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It's really been a great year! I've been exhausted by life lately, but I thank God for bringing you all into my world in this special way. Thank you for your words of encouragement and your open arms. Thank you to my wonderful husband for his understanding and patience with me. He learned quickly how to tell when I was mentally writing, and he has taken up the cross of a writer's husband with grace. Love to you all!

He Is Faithful

Last week, I was diagnosed with two not-so-rare disorders. On the same day.

The first: Misophonia- literally "hatred of sound", is a neurological disorder in which negative experiences (anger, flight, hatred, disgust) are triggered by specific sounds. A dear friend listened to me complain about virtually every sound my family makes while eating. Dr. Phil did a segment on it, which she happened to watch that night, so she led me to my self-diagnosis. It's mild, don't worry.

The second: Compassion Fatigue. Later that morning, I told the Lord what I needed and He delivered Amy right to me- from 3 1/2 hours away! She suggested I had compassion fatigue. Basically, I was burned out. I'm no Mother Theresa, but I was just tired and wanting to hole myself up away from the world. Pity-party of one please.

I prayed. I read. I got through those hard days. I went to worship on Sunday and Bible study on Monday and things were looking up- WAY up. And not because I really did anything- God was reminding me that I didn't need to do anything except spend time with Him. My Martha was overcoming my Mary.

Then this morning hit, and the tasks of the upcoming garage sale started to tighten my chest. I was short, snippy. My house was too messy, my kids too loud, and my temper too wild. A quote from yesterday's cursory sweep of The Screwtape Letters, by C.S. Lewis, came back into my memory- "It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things into their minds; in reality our best work is done by keeping things out." It was a smack of reality- my mind was filled with the to-do's and crowding out what rightfully belonged there.

Hadn't we just talked about this in Bible study? Quieting the inside chatter, thinking on those things which are true, Word in-Word out? Do not be anxious about anything...

My mind swept the Bible in my memory. What was that faithful verse I saw on the desktop? I ran to the computer and there it was on that pale yellow sticky-note. The words that brought me His Peace:

The one who calls you is faithful. He will do it. 

1 Thessalonians 5:24

Throughout the week He fulfilled this verse over and over in my life, more times than I know. He kept me like He said He would. When my world was out of whack, He brought me His peace, His Spirit. He strengthened me.

He was faithful. He still is. He always will be.

I pray for you, dear Friends. I really do. I thank God for you. Please pray for me- that this verse reminds the both of us of just how faithful He is. Pray for our church sale, that if it is His will all goes well, we raise the funds needed for our men to travel to Kenya. Pray that those who come are blessed by the items, food, and people, but most of all that they witness the love of Christ in every breath breathed within those walls. Our God is so faithful.

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Linking late with the lovely Simply Beth!

Ready, Set, Go

I'm a simple woman. I have this formula for movement. Essentially it's this- the stronger the beat, the faster I go. In fact, if you could just remix everything in my world, I'd probably be the most efficient woman on the planet. Bumpin', that's the word I was looking for. I need something bumpin'.

Following said formula, I emptied the dishwasher with passion a couple days ago. I cleaned up after supper with the enthusiasm I once had clubbing yea so many years ago. I just wish I could pop-n-lock. And those glimpses I caught in the window, those reflections that confirmed that no matter how awesome I am in my own mind- I still look like a mom dancing, they didn't deter me one bit. I played "Ready, Set, Go" on repeat and my husband just smiled as the opening measures cycled again and again. My son said I was weird- bonus.

I danced to "Ready, Set, Go" yesterday as well. Best 69 cents I've spent in a loooong time. If you like bumpin' music, it's by Royal Tailor. Anyway, I told my husband these were my three words for Wednesday. I just didn't tell him it would be about him.

We've been married 9 years today. "Ready, Set, Go" could be our theme song. I met his sister in college. We were out with the choir one night and, while I don't remember the exact conversation, I'm pretty sure it went something like this:

Me: Boys, like, totally suck. I'm done. 
Melissa: Yeah, I hear ya.
Me: I give up.
Melissa: You know, I should totally hook you up with one of my brothers. Then we could be SISTERS!
Me: That would be so AWESOME!

I met his folks the next day, introduced myself as their future daughter-in-law and decided to just go ahead and start calling them Mom and Dad. Didn't have the son picked out yet, but it was pretty much a done deal, right? Met his Aunt, Uncle, and Grandma. This could work.

Talked to the guy online for a while. Then on the phone. Met him in person one January, married him the next, had our first child the next. Moved and ministered. And I know the cornfields of Iowa don't seem to be a "ready set go" kind of atmosphere, God is showing us that ready, set, go is His call- not ours.

God has taught me a lot over the past nine years, the majority of it through my family.

The one that sticks out today- God doesn't wait until you think you are ready- for anything. Because half the time I have thought I was ready and certainly wasn't. The other half, I doubted my readiness and He supplied all the ready I needed.

I am married to a man who is ready always- at least he seems that way. He looks for opportunities to share Jesus with people. That may seem like a no-brainer with him being a pastor and all, but trust me, it's not. I could go on and on about how much he rocks, but I don't want to make anyone's teeth hurt from all the sweetness.

Thank you awesome readers for indulging this little post dedicated to an amazing gift I've been given. I know if I would have had any hand in it, I would have screwed it up a looong time ago. And now you've all also been privy to his anniversary card, since I haven't made that yet... You are welcome. Love you all and have a wonderful Wednesday:)

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This sappy post is being forced upon anyone else who links up with the FABULOUS Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday:)

If you are looking for the song that bumps my world:

The Incomplete Illusion {Messy Monday}

You may recall we are having a garage sale.

You also may recall that some things tend to be incomplete around here.

So when my husband suggested we take out every single glass from our cupboard, as well as those cowering under the kitchen sink, and those in the boxes we still haven't unpacked since we moved here, I said, "Go for it." Meaning, "You do the heavy lifting and I will tell you what stays and what goes. I mean, we will together decide what stays and what goes. Right."

The glasses, mugs, cups, sippies, water bottles, and other miscellaneous junk covered our floor. Occasionally we would run across a complete set of glasses. In our house we have a word for that phenomenon: Miracle. Our house is where complete sets come to die, so our eyes widened and our brows furrowed when we'd run across even numbers of the same beverage containers.

Then I saw my sweet mugs and did a happy dance. I have a few random mugs that I adore, but I have one set that is particularly close to my heart. I rescued the set a few years back from a second-hand store. They're quirky, with a handle that looks like a capital B. They are my Sweet B mugs. And I had every single one!

A week later, I prepared to meet my dear friend Simply Beth. I wanted to give her more than a ride- I wanted to give her a gift to remember her trip and our time together. Something that would mean something. I racked my brain. Do I head to Hobby Lobby or Family Christian Store and pick her up something cute? Do I make her a necklace with beads formed by the Suubi women from Light Gives Heat? Do I buy some sweet Iowa State scrapbooking paper and make her some bookmarks to use in the pile of books she's reading right now?

I sipped my coffee and thought. The coffee in my Sweet B mug. It's a simple mug. Simple. B. Simply Beth. And she's sweet just like the mugs. That makes sense, right? But who wants a random mug? And you have a complete set!

What is the point of a complete set? Really, we were so excited to have found some. It was like we had arrived. We were real adults now. Adults who could keep four mugs together, even six, so we must be able to keep our lives together, right? Look at us! We have it together! But when I have coffee company over, I never give everyone the same mug- way too confusing. Who wants to spend the morning asking, "Wait. Is this one mine or yours?" So a complete set seems kind of... superfluous.

So I decided to give Beth a mug because she is now a part of my life. And when you have been made complete in Christ, there is only one thing to do with your life- give it away.

That's why all those epistles start with the writers praying for churches from a distance. That's why they call each other brothers. Because being adopted into God's family makes us brothers and sisters. You know that already I'm sure, but in a society where we can spell me with two i's, we need to be reminded that wii is a fun way to play, but a crappy way to live. Each of us complete in Christ is joined together to share lives because our lives no longer belong to us anyway. We are a body, a family, a kingdom together. That's how we are called to live.

The world would look at my collection and see it as incomplete, but I know it's not. It's more complete than it was before, because it's being shared a state away. My adorable mug resides in a cupboard far away, holding a reminder of the love of Christ that binds together sisters from two different mothers.

It's just another example of how Christ fills the empty, common things with a love that knows no bounds.

Praying for you all, wherever you are, and thanking God for uniting us in Him. What a huge family we have, let's invite some more:) Love you all!

Imagine That! {Messy Monday}

A sssshhhhhhhhhup! tore through the air as I removed the adhesive backing from her comforter. I took a step toward her bedroom door.

"My sticker!"

I stopped. I held up the tag. "This?"

"Yeah! My sticker!"

I tried hard (really hard) not to sigh exasperation at my three-year-old as I handed her back her "sticker." You know those sticky tags they put on the back of clothes that tell their size? The kind I would always forget to take off and so wear ignorantly all day long? 

That cute little "Jumping Beans" sticker that makes shopping at Kohl's just a little too easy- that was her sticker. She smiled sweetly and clutched it close. She slept with a tag.

It's been a while since I have posted about this child, but she has a knack for inspiring me.

Maybe it's the fact that I can go on a rampage around the house about missing puzzle pieces (and honestly, some of these puzzles have 9 pieces- 9), and fifteen minutes later she'll walk up to me right properly and ask, "Would you like a piece of candy, Sweetheart?"

"Why yes please. I would love a piece of candy."

Her petite fingers will yank open the hot pink zipper, slide into the silky Hello Kitty bag, and pull out... the missing puzzle piece. "It's candy."

Maybe it's that I have several misshapen diaper boxes around the house because they have been stuffed with pillows and other amenities to make her rocket trip that much more comfortable.

Or maybe it's because she fills up her chair cushion swimming pool with a wii remote hose.

Whatever it is in her that inspires me, one thing is certain- she has imagination. Praise God for that. It's that imagination that keeps her occupied right now as I write. I'm writing from a forest, in case you were wondering. 

Anyone who knows her knows that she is my biggest challenge, but today that's a positive thing. Because her imagination is pushing me to see past myself. 

God, the Author and Creator, and the Author of Creativity does this all the time. He pushes me to see past myself. He sees what can be, what will be, and when I take a moment to listen to Him I am just dandy. But so often I stand at the bottom of the mountain. I see the incline and think I am out of shape. I see the boulders and think There's no way I'm getting over those things. I see the brush, the crevices, the struggle and think I just can't handle that. 

And that's exactly when God calls down from the mountain, down from where visibility is at it's maximum, and says, I already have. He's already been there. But love is not far off. Love climbs back down. Love comes close. Love doesn't tell me, "You can handle it." Love tells me, "I can handle it." And then Love makes a way for me. 

When it comes to imagination, our problem is not that we don't have any. It's that we limit it. We must learn that somewhere along the way. Our lives are too small. And so is our God. We might not say it in those words exactly, but we confess it in our worries.

What if we imagined bigger? What if, instead of seeing our lives as a sum of so many parts, we believed God's word when it tells us, 

"Behold I am doing a new thing, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." (Isaiah 43:1) 

What if God became the variable that caused our sum to grow exponentially? I guess there is some math in the Bible:)

I don't have the biggest family, the biggest words, or the biggest following. But I do have the biggest God. The only God. And do you know what else He says to us? 

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine." 

(Isaiah 43:1)

I have those words sitting on the window ledge by my kitchen sink to remind me that God knows my name. He has redeemed me personally. Which means He loves me. Which means I have absolutely nothing to fear because He has both mercy and might. 

The same holds true for you! Read God's words to you, His child, and know that He has called you by name, and redeemed you completely. He did it out of love for you, and there is nothing to fear. Imagine that!

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Today I am linking up with Angie at Inspire Me Monday! Stop over and read some great stuff!

We're All Puzzled

We are having a garage sale.

This is the first one I have attempted in a while. I'm talking about 9 years. I think we did one with the church right after we got married to fund a youth group mission trip. Pretty sure that was the last time.

It's just a daunting task.

So these past years I've collected our treasures and given them away or donated them somewhere. Simply because I don't want to do the pricing thing., and because other people need those things.

My husband came in the door as I was purging toys the other day. "You ready to get rid of that stuff?"

"Yup."

"Good. What do you think about having a garage sale?" I gave him a You're kidding, right? look.

He wasn't kidding. The concept was simple. No pricing. We set up in the basement of the church. Freewill donation (maybe a section for things that need a bit bigger of a donation, we'll see). Every penny goes to fund my husband's and his friend's trip to Kenya in a few months to share Jesus.

I could do that. He put it on the calendar before I could back out.

Yesterday, I figured I better get to work with the organizing and boxing and whatnot. What better place to start than the puzzle closet? I opened the closet and perused the shelves for the puzzles we have neglected lately. Those would be the first to go.

There was just one problem. We have dozens of puzzles, and I guarantee you half of them don't have all their pieces.

New plan. I picked out the puzzles with the fewest pieces and counted the pieces in each. The complete ones were the first to go. The larger puzzles, we'd have to tackle those another way.

Another plan! (And I thought I wasn't a planner!) I'd wait until school was out, then have the kids grab some puzzles and we'd have some family puzzle time. Genius!

In case you are wondering how that went over, I've transcribed some of our wholesome and fun conversations below. I was going to put my words in red. Like Jesus. Jesus always spoke in red. But red doesn't show up very well round here, so we'll go with blue.

Ok, guys! Grab a couple puzzles and we'll work on them together.

Do we have to?

Yes, you have to. But I'll help you! It'll be fun.

(Eye rolls from the boy. He grabs a puzzle. The girls are a little more accommodating. They grab several and even manage to spill one 6 inches from the closet. )

Mom, this is hard.

I'll help you. Just let me help your little sister here first. No, get away from that! Can someone please get the baby away from the table?

Mom, this is hard.

Yeah, I know. I'll help you- I just have to clean these up first.

I don't like doing this.

Yes you do. Stop whining and finish it.

No I don't, it's too hard.

You've done that puzzle a hundred times. It's not too hard.

Can I be done?

Really? You can't just help me out on this one?

No. Can I please be done and go play?

Fine.

Thanks.

It's too bad you won't get any ice cream, though.

What?!

Your sisters get ice cream after supper because they are helping me. 

That's not fair! I want ice cream too!

It is too fair. I want to get these puzzles done. Anyone who helps gets ice cream after supper. If you choose not to help, that's your own choice.

He huffed and sat back down. His sister finished the puzzle with him as he provided some comic relief that had me wanting to beg him to go. Go play. It's fine, really.

It didn't go quite as I envisioned, but some progress was made. Some of the puzzles had all the pieces. Some didn't. I decided to finish some more after the kids were in bed.

One puzzle had given the 8 year old a tough time. 150 pieces, it should have been a cinch. The kids went to bed and I sat in front of the sparkly princess puzzle, ready to knock it out.

I despise that puzzle. I probably shouldn't admit this, but that sucker was hard. I'll blame the long day. And the fact that most of the pieces were identical in shape. I'd get to where I thought I was on a roll, then I'd pick up a piece, put it in its place, and realize I had to change about 3 other pieces around it because they were wrong.

"This is hard," I told my husband. He just laughed.

I say that to God a lot. Sometimes it seems that as soon as I get a piece in place, I have to reorganize everything else. And sometimes that is hard. Not to mention, I know I don't have all my pieces.

When we do puzzles, I tell the kids they have to wait to add the piece in their hand. "Another piece has to go there first. Then you'll be able to connect that one." The waiting for the right pieces can be hard too. I just want to get it all in there as soon as possible, and when it gets too hard, I just want to say, "Can I be done now?"

Of course, God is more gracious and wise than I am. His not yet isn't said in exasperation, but understanding. He is waiting too. And He loves me way too much to let me just give up and "go play."

He loves you that much too. We all have our own puzzles to work on. And everyone is missing pieces, at least for now. Sometimes we see things that fit, that should work, but we don't see the whole picture. We don't realize that those things that should work in our own mind don't actually belong there at all. Even the edge pieces can be tricky.

But there is a wonderful promise that I sing to myself, when things get tricky, or confusing, or frustrating:

And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. Philippians 1:6 

It's not my job to see the whole picture. It's not my job to see how everything is supposed to go. I only need to trust, place my pieces where He leads, and praise Him for the good things He is working in me. And they are all good things.

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Linking up with my buddy Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday today!

Eyes to See {Messy Monday}

If I was to measure the distance from her nose to the treats she sought, it could not have measured more than 8 inches.

I laughed my frustrated laugh, "They are literally right in front of your face."

"Huh?" Her eyes searched the counter and settled on the gummy worms my husband was now pointing to.

"Ooohhhh!"

In my helpful fashion I mused, "You must have zero peripheral vision." (To be sure, this was not the first time that day that her eyes had completely missed an item I asked her to fetch...)

"I was looking for a bag."

There it was. The moment I handed my giddy son his gummy worms and watched him skip into the living room, I showed initiative and went ahead and pulled more worms from the bag. I placed them in neat, equal piles on the counter.

She wasn't looking for neat, equal piles. She was looking for a bag.

Haha, Lord. I get it.

He does this to me all the time. I ask for something. I search for it in confusion. Then there it is. Right there. Right in front of my face.

I prayed that I would be able to make it through Glenn's funeral music relatively intact.

I then wrenched my back something fierce while working out, and spent the majority of the funeral focusing on the electricity massaging my back to keep the inflammation down.

Ok, it doesn't seem much like an answered prayer. It certainly wasn't in a package I expected, but the singing went awesome. As easy as breathing. (I'll blog more about the funeral on Wednesday.)

And I shouldn't be surprised. God's always wrapping up answered prayers in His own packages.

A deliverer in a basket in the reeds.

The Messiah in a little baby.

A healing cleanse in a dirty river.

Body and blood in bread and wine.

You are an answered prayer. You are to me, and to so many others. He hears our prayers and so often we want a magical finish. From what I've seen, God can definitely do that, but more often He changes the packaging. He wraps it in flesh. He wraps up His answered prayers in fallible people with hearts for God.

You are going to meet people today with messy lives. People who are praying for an answer, for a miracle. You might not be the answer, but you can be the one who points them to The Answer. You can show them the love and support that they need to get through this. You can be the one who receives the help from the person wondering if there is any purpose to their life.

Today I pray God give you the eyes to see His answers, no matter how their wrapped. And I pray He gives us all eyes to see that He has chosen us to point out His Answer to a broken and hurting world.

God bless your Messy Monday, Friends! I love you dearly!

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Today I am linking up with Inspire Me Monday!

Supernatural Hope {Fearless Friday}

I learned a few years back that just because death is common to all man, that doesn't make it common to our souls. Back then I lost my mother-in-law and two babies.

This past week, I lost a friend.

Details unnecessary beyond,"cancer sucks."

Tomorrow I sing for his funeral and I haven't practiced the song yet without crying. I guess I'm just hoping that if I practice it enough, I'll be all dried out. I already tried the "pretend it didn't happen" approach, hoping that would get me through Saturday, but it didn't work. The praise team sings too, and I'm just hoping no one expects a Grammy Award winning performance, because we were a mess at rehearsal.

He played guitar for us and I can't tell you how beautiful his music was.

So, he and his wife are my Fearless Friday. Because 7 months ago everything was fine, and now... it's not.

I thought about this yesterday as I drove home from Omaha. Perhaps they weren't fearless. Each appointment brought more and more bad news. They just knew they'd show up and he'd take tests and the results would come and... more bad news. That pattern can certainly cause some fear.

Still, the only word I heard out of their mouths was peace.

There were tears. More than I can imagine. I find it amazing even now as I write just how freely tears can flow. But when all was said and done, they had peace.

They could see something beyond this present circumstance, and that vision was supernatural. That strength, that perseverance, that optimism that they displayed- that was supernatural. It was fearless.

Because God reigned in their hearts and in this situation.

Fearlessness has nothing to do with your circumstances, and everything to do with your God.

When God is God, love overshadows fear. It doesn't annihilate the pain. It doesn't eradicate heartache. It gives hope. Supernatural hope.

"When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory.

And I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me."

How He Loves, David Crowder

I don't have the words right now to tell you just how wonderful and loving this man was, this couple was. We were awed and thankful, so thankful, for their peace and their presence. I just ask that you pray. Pray for his beautiful wife, his kids, his grandkids, his friends. Thank God for His faithfulness. Ask for strength and comfort and anything else you can think of. And pray for those of us singing tomorrow. Lord, I Need You is hard enough to sing without crying. 

For now I'm just thanking God for His promises.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, 

and death shall be no more, 

neither shall there be mourning, 

nor crying, nor pain anymore, 

for the former things have passed away.”

 Revelation 21:4

Thank you all for your words of encouragement to me. I appreciate them so much, and it warms my heart to know that God is using me to bless others. I am so thankful for each of you. Have a blessed weekend.

Love,
Lauren

When You're Just Not Sure What You're Worth {Messy Monday}

We're not a family that plays by the rules.

Wow, that sounds way cooler than it is.

What I really mean is, at one point every week there comes a time when we flip the rules of value and worth on their heads, and it's all based purely on a whim. That point is offering.

Our church does kids' offering a bit differently than the churches I remember from my youth. Instead of a Sunday school offering, the segment of our worship service dedicated to collecting adult offering is also a time for the children to come forward and bring their offerings as well. Big kids pass the plate. Little kids run to the front of the church and drop their offerings into the fishbowl. The fishbowl offering then goes to the missionary we've elected to support that year.

Funny thing about fishbowls- they can get super loud when you're tossing coins in them.

It is for that reason that once a week any amount of change is greater than any amount of dollar bills. I hand the kids their dollar bill and they aw and pout. I give them a handful of pennies and they're giddy. The clink of the coins far surpasses the number on the currency.

I blame their childhood naivete. I also blame my husband. Here's why:

Every October, the hubs and I attend a benefit dinner called "Christmas in October." It is put on by the retailers in our town (whoop small towns!) and the money raised goes to a fund to help the children of our town celebrate Christmas. The town businesses also contribute some sweet door prizes that you get to choose from when your name is called. Last year we got 6 months of free cable between the two of us.

This year, we received a sneak peek at some of the goods, and from the moment my husband saw the piggy bank, it had to be his. He kept talking about it. Coveting the cleverly folded two-dollar bill that served as mo-hawk in the top slot of the pig. Of course it was filled with coins, but the real hook was that two-dollar bill. He adores those things.

Anyway, the night of the banquet, my name was called relatively early on. I raced over to the table and scoped out the gift certificates, centerpieces, wines. Time was of the essence. There was the envelope, "3 months free cable." And there were the pigs. Two of them. 

I hesitated as my eyes darted between the pigs and the certificate. I had to determine which was more valuable. I knew what I had to do. I snatched the swine and presented it with both hands to my husband. He was ecstatic. For the rest of the night, our table guessed at just how much money was in that thing. Look at all the... pennies. Ooh, a silver dollar! Maybe there are more of those in there! What if there's a twenty hidden in the middle?...

We got home and poured out the porker. Twenty bucks. Total.

But for that night, those twenty bucks were far more valuable than the free cable.

Maybe you don't see it that way. But my choice put love far above money.

Guess who else did that... Did you guess Jesus? Then you're right! 

As I saw the eyes of my children light up when I handed them their offering coins yesterday, I thought about how God is always flipping my idea of what is truly valuable. By nature, I don't get monetary compensation for my job. There are times when I'm tempted to think that my lack of exciting business trips, or social contacts with important people really just reflects that I'm not really that important. 

I couldn't be more wrong. And if you ever feel like you just aren't that valuable, you couldn't be more wrong.

Jesus came to an "unimportant" family and lived in an "unimportant" town. It always cracks me up to read Nathanael's response when Philip tells him they found the Messiah: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (John 1:46)

Jesus called children to Him, "unimportant" by society's standards for sure, and warned the people about leading one of these precious ones astray because the "kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." (Matthew 19:14)

Jesus sat before hundreds and thousands of "unimportant" people and went into detail about the blessed people in the world. They are the 

poor in spirit, 

the mourners, 

the meek,

the hungry and thirsty for righteousness,

the peacemakers,

the persecuted,

the reviled.

As a parent, my job is to make sure my children know God's standard of value.

As a writer, my job is remind you God's standard of value.

As a blessed daughter, my job is to simply believe God when He speaks, regardless of what I see. Praise Him that He finds me valuable enough to give me the strength to believe that. And that He gives me you dear friends to remind me when I forget.

You are loved. You are valuable beyond words. So valuable, in fact, that The Word became flesh, lived, died and rose for you. It is my prayer that the knowledge of that moves past your eyes and mind into your heart. It is my prayer that you believe that today, and that those words that speak life into you may spring forth into the lives of those around you. It is my prayer that our neighbors find out just how valuable they truly are in God's eyes- even in their Messy Mondays.

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Are there any moments in the Bible or in your life that have stood as reminders of how God values the things that the world disregards? Your comments and conversation are valuable- to me, to God, to others. Bless you this week!

And today I link up with Inspire Me Monday!

Cherish It

It all started with a simple card and a few pinecones, but in 1.2 seconds it became an explosion, sending it's glittery shrapnel all over our kitchen...

I've been given the gift of a unique Advent.

For most of November I resolved that this Advent would be different. That we would stop. Really stop and take stock of the important things of the season.

I just had no idea how we would do it.

I'm not really a "forward thinker." I let the tasks of today distract me from plans for the future. So while I planned to slow Advent down for our family, I was figuring on tackling the "how" when I got to it.

Then I received a gift! My sister-in-law's family gifted us with just what I needed. Just what I needed!  The Perfect Advent Calendar. That's what it's called. And she wanted to make sure I was prepared, so she gave me a heads up that I would need to look it over prior to December so I would have all the supplies ready. She is a forward thinker, a planner. Have I mentioned that I'm not?

December 1st I opened our goody box and perused the contents. My daughter and I strung the cards on the ribbon while the other two girls limbo-ed beneath. We organized the activities and I made my list of supplies to get at Hobby Lobby. (I admit I enjoyed turning a trip to Hobby Lobby into a "need.")

Now each day we pick the card in the slot for the day and perform it's directions as a family. Drive and look at Christmas lights, wear Christmas socks and take a picture, play a family game, watch a family movie, bake cookies, etc. During the family time, you discuss how this reveals God's love and grace. There's a scripture verse and a prayer. And each day is cleverly titled with a _______ it. Bake it. Build it. Deliver it. Play it. You get the idea.

None of them say Survive it, though a couple of times that has been my only goal.

Messy Monday happened last Thursday as our family embarked on memorializing The Legend of the Silver Pinecone.

After Googling the story the real fun began. Glitter sprang forth in happy showers over the glue painted pinecones. Smudged with hands, shaken onto bare feet, pressed into my neck and hair by an affectionate toddler, the glitter was everywhere.

The title of Thursday's card? Cherish it.

Cherish it.

In the middle of the chaos? The fights? The pleas? The family time that suddenly turned train wreck?

Cherish what?

The little hands, minds, hearts growing in the love of Jesus. This is what I wanted to slow down to see, and I guess it took a great big mess to remind me of that.

It doesn't take a perfect calendar to tell me to cherish. (It helps, not gonna lie.)

And as I look around me and see people going crazy over stupid stuff (that's right- I said stupid- and I'm including myself in this group of people) sometimes the biggest gift is to be reminded to cherish it because He cherishes us.

The train wrecks we are. The bickering. The grudges. The ridiculous expectations. The impossible comparisons. The mistakes over and over and over again.

Cherish what? What could He possibly cherish?

Our hands, minds, hearts. That's what. We are so incredibly beloved, especially in the messiness of life.

He is willing to go through the messes with us because He cherishes us.

 

That's worth pausing over.

That's what Advent call us to. We pause not in some holy pursuit to perfect ourselves, but because we know that when God calls us to reflect on Him, we inevitably see one overarching truth - He cherishes us. No matter what. Pure Gospel there.

That's what sent Jesus to earth, and what sends Him into the very midst of the explosions of our lives.

That's what He tells you today and everyday.

I cherish you.

Praying that the Lord gives you reason to pause and awe over His tremendous love for you. Praying He calls you loud and clear to cherish the messy moments in your life because they are reminders that He is with you in the midst of them. He cherishes you, Friends.

Holiday For Prodigals, or, I'm the Jerk

I'm about to make a radical change in my Advent scripture line-up.

I know, I know. Why deviate from the beloved Christmas story? Why postpone pondering the prophecies of the Old Testament fulfilled in that little person born in Bethlehem?

And after all, I have all year to reflect on the other portions of the Bible. Studying the birth of Christ at Christmas really just makes sense.

Honestly, I'm doing it because Christmas is a holy day for the prodigals.

Of course we have other terms for the Christmas and Easter Christians. Chreasters, Submarine Christians (they only come up twice a year- if that).

I've been thinking about that over the past few days- the beloved Chreasters- and I regret to inform you that I have been, well, a jerk.

I'm not beating myself up. I'm convicted, not condemned. But the real deal is I've become this guy:

Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, "Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound."
But he was angry and refused to go in.

Luke 15:25-28

Now I'm pretty sure everyone loves the parable of the prodigal son- as long as they identify with the prodigal. The disgraceful idiot who squanders his inheritance, lives destitute with pigs, and finally returns home to the Father who has never stopped loving him, never stopped waiting for Him- yeah, I'm that guy.

We'd rather be the stupid one, not the jerk.

This morning I realized, I'm the jerk.

I don't pout at the door of the church, ignoring the masses whose faces I don't recognize, but I mentally tsk-tsk and want to shake them. "Don't you get it?! We get this Christmas deal ALL THE TIME! WAKE UP!" It sounds like compassion, but it is borne just as much out of frustration.

One thing is certain, I don't celebrate them. (My stomach just turned typing that one.) The packed church brings no lasting joy in the knowledge that, in just a few days, life will return to normal and the church will be half-empty again.

I guess that means that I possess the ability to look at a glass that's filled to the brim and see it as half empty.

Then I remembered this verse:

And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 
It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.

vs 31-32

Christmas is for the prodigals. It just is.

I'm not saying three hours a year is enough to satisfy the needs of a weary soul, or that all that makes our God worthy of praise can be summed up in a couple annual holidays. I'm saying it is fitting to celebrate and be glad because they are there, and Jesus is there, and the Father is running to meet them, which means that is what I should do.

Because I am a prodigal too.

So this Advent I prepare not only to welcome the Christ-child, but those for whom He came. People like me- who need the embrace of the Father. People like the ones Jesus was telling His parable to- sinners and tax collectors, Pharisees and scribes. People who, like the nasty dirty shepherds, sit on the outskirts of society and venture in to the crowd hoping to remain invisible rather than feel the judgment of the "holy" every-Sunday Christians.

I prepare my heart with the what-if's:

What if the shallow, temporary goodwill the world preaches about during this time of year was completely blown out of the water by the never-ending, unconditional warmth and love shown by God's people in His house and world?

What if, instead of settling for the anonymous "acceptance" of a disinterested society, people experienced the intimate, I-know-you-and-accept-you-just-the-way-you-are true love of God through His body, the church?


Wouldn't that be the best Christmas gift we could give them?

Wouldn't that embody the purpose for which He came- not just to sacrifice, but to reconcile?

It is my Advent Prayer that the Lord loves the jerkiness right out of me- out of us- so we can love with a full heart the same people He loves with relentless passion. And so, when faces of our towns darken our doors for one of the few times this year, we will not be the stumbling blocks that trip them up on their way to the manger.

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Today I'm linking up with a few friends: Woman to Woman, Doing You Well Wednesday, and (of course) Three Word Wednesday with Simply Beth. Click, join, read, write, enjoy!