Owning Your Right Here Purpose

Working in the universe that is the local church, I have been thinking about Christmas since about the beginning of October. You know, just a couple months after Hobby Lobby displayed their Santa crafts in the back of the store. If you are not in the mood to contemplate Holiday cheer, I'm inflicting it on you anyway. So, sorry not sorry ;)


This past weekend I had the privilege to attend a conference for the "Belong Tour". In case you've never been to an event like this, these big-time writers, singers, fitness trainer Christian women put together a conference to speak and create a space for women of all walks of life to "Belong". Good premise, good conference. I thought of things in a new way. I was inspired. And I bonded with some amazing women. If the conference was designed to make me feel like I belonged, mission accomplished.


It was also a great avenue for children to be adopted through World Vision, for supporting families wracked from life-threatening illnesses in their children, and for us women to find our "lane" (our purpose), get into it, and do great things in the name of the Lord.

The last thing spoke to many women, no doubt. Me included. Here I was watching women do the things I love to do- write, teach, and make music. Check, check, check. Congrats, ladies. You are all living my dream.

But towards the end of the conference and in the days that followed, I have had to step back and recalibrate. Honestly, my dream is not to be up on the stage with those women. I wouldn't turn it down, but I am not making that my end goal.

Here is my end goal- and here is where Christmas comes in. (I know you've been waiting for it.) My end goal is to follow the path I am on and not spend so much time planning for the future that I miss this stuff going on right here and right now. At the end of my life I will not be disappointed that I never made it big. I will be disappointed if my life passed me by and I was so distracted by the future that I was never fully in the present.

I want to be like Mary. We look at the people that line our bookshelves or teach on stages and think that is about the most obvious evidence of greatness there could be. But here's what I think- and this is especially for you parents of young kids- your life may feel like it is in a holding pattern right now. You may look forward to those things you can do when the kiddos grow up a little, but the truth is there is value in what you are doing right now. This minute. (After all, you are reading this blog.)

Mary had a baby. One step in the direction God asked her to go. It wasn't fancy. Quite the opposite. It was about as basic as could be. But after that she was amazing simply because she continued to be present. We see it in the Gospels. She was there until the end, and beyond. What if I could simply be wherever Jesus is? Even if He is just in my living room?

I'm accepting the fact that anyone can write a book. Some will even be successful. Maybe one day I will see my book in a bookstore. Maybe I won't. But my purpose doesn't lie in the pages of a book. It lies in simple trust. One step, no matter how mundane, can be transformed by God into a life of beautiful service, and if He is the only one who ever sees it, that is enough. He rewards what is done in secret. And He has given us tasks so specifically designed for us we can't even fathom it. I am the only wife to my husband. I am the only mother to my kids. No one else gets to do that.

So I want to encourage you where you are. Maybe you do feel like you are in a holding pattern. Maybe you would like to live your life like a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book and go back and try a different path. But God has you here for a reason. All He desires is your trust. He lavished love on us when He sent His Son for us and He has. not. stopped. since then. You are precious. You are His masterpiece. Own it.

Sick, Tired, and Totally Blessed Out

It took ten minutes maybe to get the phone call from the school. We had just dropped our youngest off at 4K and made our way to pick up some coffee before a kid free morning date at Aldi when my husband's phone rang. He answered it, listened, hung up, and turned us around. Unbeknownst to us, Heidy was sick. That cold sore I saw in her mouth that morning? The one that made me think "weird"? It wasn't weird. It was Hand Foot and Mouth Disease.

And let me tell you- HFMD is no joke. We are on Day 6 of the illness.

Yet, this whole experience reminds me of what a loving God we have. It actually illuminates 4 important points to me about our relationship with God and each other.

1. Our sickness does not sway God's love. God is not disgusted by us. He is holy. He cannot be in the presence of our sinfulness, yet He loves us completely. No matter how feverish and slobbery and whiny my daughter is, my heart is full of love for her. Her chubby little legs are still adorable. Her arms strung around my neck warm me to the bones. There are times, recent times, when I am disgusted by myself. I repeat my sins. I am whiny. I don't trust God. I am spiteful and short with my kids and husband. I make myself a martyr and then resent others for not noticing. I am jealous. I am lazy.
And I am still loved. I belong to the Father, and He knew what He was getting when He bought me. His love is everlasting and unconditional. When He looks at us He doesn't see lemons. He sees His children; His sick children clothed in the sacrifice of His perfect Son. He doesn't love me any more or less than He did yesterday because He loves me completely every day. And He loves you in the same way.

2. Quarantine might be a good way to keep a virus from spreading, but when it comes to sinfulness we are way too late. Quarantine isn't an effective lifestyle. We aren't to dabble in ungodly living, but the goal is not to lead lives where grace is unnecessary. The goal is to get out there and love our sick neighbors actively and completely. And if we sin in the process (which we will because we are sick too) there is grace for that. There is a reason that Jesus said when you visit the imprisoned, you are doing it to Him too. Quarantine works for disease control, but it was never meant to be a permanent way to live. God, reveal to me the people I have avoided...

3. We should be less concerned with "catching something" from others, and more about others "catching something" from us. Grumbling is contagious, but Grace can be too. If I am more aware of the Grace I am carrying in my body through the work of the Holy Spirit, I will be less worried about the potential sickness of sinfulness around me. The words of others may sting, but they won't cling. The baffling decisions people make to ruin their lives or the lives of others will move me to action and compassion instead of judgment and division.

And here may be the best one of all: God is looking forward to our healing even more than we are. A couple nights ago my daughter was feeling well enough (thank you Tylenol and smoothies) to dance. She donned her hot pink fedora and black cowboy boots and smiled for the first time in days. I nearly cried. It was a glimpse of my little girl coming back to me.

I used to think our good works pleased God because in Christ we are His kids and He delights in the fact that we are showing His love to those around us. I still think that's the case, but now I think there is another side to it. I think in those moments where we serve and delight in God, we are a glimpse of what we are truly meant to be. Like my dancing daughter. The snapshot may be blurry, but you can see in that moment a vague indicator of the joy that will be ours when we are our fullest and truest selves. And that glimpse touches the heart of the God who alone knows who we were created to be. As much as I long to be healed and whole, God longs for it all the more. But He is gracious and patient and willing to wait for that day with us. I can't think of anything more comforting than that.

So please continue to keep my family in your prayers as we trudge through the sick season, and I will pray for you too. One day we will all be healed and we will all be together.

When God Fills the Empty Spaces {Messy Monday}

I have a strict "whatever" policy about matching socks. Maybe I'll match them. Maybe I won't. Whatever.

As I rummaged through the single sock laundry basket the other day, I snatched up the No Nonsense pair I'd folded earlier, and thought of Angie. The giver of the socks. And appropriately enough "no nonsense" is a phrase she clothes her personality in quite often.

She showed up at my door with two packages of white, sturdy, No Nonsense brand socks. 

"You want these?"

Someone had given them to her, but they weren't a style she liked. Too long.

My response? "Free socks? Uh.. YEAH!"

And just like that, I was the proud owner of about a dozen pairs of brand-spanking-new socks.

That was years ago and I still wear them. Sometimes I get to feeling domestic and even darn them. These things are quality.

I didn't get it. Free socks? Who would turn down free socks?

I don't know. Who would turn down free salvation?

Socks take up serious real estate in our drawers. Honestly, I've turned down tons of free stuff because it just takes up space. Things that would be nice to have, but that I don't really need. 

I guess even free stuff can be too expensive when we're talking about the space of our lives.

I see it with the Gospel all the time. America is one of the hardest mission fields simply because we have so much stuff to drown out our need for Jesus. Even the kids that sit in our church once a week struggle with this. The church says I need Jesus. But my mom and dad seem to be doing just fine without Him. Who is right?

I'm not talking just about unchurched families either. I'm including myself in this one. 

There is a daily struggle with pride, with the desire to get things done. And what kills me is that even though I get burned over and over again, I still play with the fires of spiritual multitasking.

Jesus offers me this: Time. Time to sit with Him. Time to remember my redemption in Him. Time to ponder who He is. And what is the one thing I always feel like I'm lacking? Time. The Giver of time is giving me the thing I need- Time. And I'm too busy to just stop and take it.

I could blame motherhood, or even church. But the truth is the blame rests in this distracted and hungry heart.

This heart that realizes its void and reaches for what is convenient, instead of what is right. Like my toddler recognizing the empty space in the 3/4 full milk jug and filling it with tortillas, refried beans, and a Nutri-grain bar wrapper, I shove things into the empty spaces that have no business being there.

So when my neighbors obviously need Jesus, but instead consume alcohol and possessions and all manners of worldly trinkets, maybe I shouldn't be so perplexed. Maybe I should try on some compassion.

Because I have been there too. And while I am free from death and sin, that devil will try anything to direct my heart to everything except God.

There is hope. Hope for me. Hope for them. Hope for you. Hope for all of us. Compassion and hope are the truths that clothe believers, because believers need them too. 

More important that getting the socks matched, or the supper made, is showing my kids and neighbors that this empty jar can only really be filled by God alone.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God 

and not to us. 

2 Corinthians 4:7

Afflicted, perplexed, persecuted. All of the above. But God has power that surpasses them all. And that is what we carry, Christ's death and resurrection. Filled to the brim with His grace because we so desperately need it. May He take up more and more space in us, until people cannot look into our lives without seeing an emptiness filled by God Himself.  

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!

"Worth It" Friends

I'm suffering from a vacation hangover. I feel I should report that any consequent memory loss is simply due to sleep deprivation or old age. While the hubs headed to a Sr. High youth gathering, the rest of us ventured out to see friends for 25 hours of joyful Jesus-loving happy time.

My mom told me I was more adventurous than she used to be. Who just packs up their 4 kids by themselves to drive 3 hours to see friends for one night? Then we joked that it was really more a matter of survival than anything else.

But the truth is- they are worth it.

I pray you have "worth it" friends.

You can't truly define a "worth it" friend, but in the fashion of Mr. Foxworthy I'll give you some brief examples:

You Might Have a "Worth it" Friend if...

1. Your house is crazy busy and a total mess, but you shoot them a text or a phone call because they have been on your heart lately.

2. You realize you haven't talked to them in a couple months, but when you call them it's like no time has passed.

3. You don't have to shower, wear makeup, or change out of your pajamas to see them.

4. You can talk about the most disgusting aspects of health and children, really it's ok. Shoot- you probably even ask their medical opinion.

5. You can ask each other questions about pretty much anything- even those things that require real honesty.

6. You never judge- and you never feel judged- even when you don't do everything exactly alike.

7. You have no idea how dirty or clean each others' houses are because you are just so excited to be together!

8. You can search each others' kitchen cabinets, refrigerators, and drawers for anything you need.

9. You can laugh and cry together.

10. You make each other "better" people.

(Now share this list with ten other friends in the next 8.5 minutes or in 17 days your old 5th grade teacher's niece will receive a disturbing letter in the mail marked, "You are pre-approved!")

This isn't some sappy list to forward. It's just ten reasons I carted four kids halfway across the state to chill with this family.

Because I knew it would totally be worth it.

Maybe you see where I'm going with this.

Of course, Jesus is totally worth it, but that's not my point. Harsh much, Lauren? I didn't mean that to sound flippant. It's just that my real point is this:

We have a God that comes to us.

And He came because we are worth it.

Not in and of ourselves. It wasn't our worthiness that sent Him here- it was His.

He created us and watched as His blessed children traded His love for their own pride.

Then He watched it again. The Old Testament shows scene after scene of betrayal- all by humanity.

And the faithfulness of God.

Because He knew it would be worth it.

It would be worth the birth. The persecution. The abandonment. The betrayal. The death.

It would be worth the tired feet. The chapped skin. The aching muscles. The hunger. The fatigue.

It would be worth the dirty looks. The cutting words.

It would be worth the separation- the total separation from the Father.

It would be worth it because we would finally be together. The Bridegroom and His bride.

So He left it all behind, traveled from the throne of heaven and into His creation with nothing.

To offer Himself up and redeem us. To set the captives free.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba, Father! So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.

Galatians 4:4-7

It's Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter all wrapped up into one glorious holy day. One that we will be celebrating for all eternity.

As the next few days and weeks turn into one giant countdown of parties, presents, houseguests, and travels, may we be mindful of the One who truly is Worthy and who loves us beyond compare.

Rats in the Cellar and the Strong-Willed Child

Shortly after becoming pregnant with our second child, I decided to get to the library and check out some more parenting books. This new endeavor would naturally take more parenting skills that I had yet to develop. I perused the shelves, in search of any of the books I had seen in the bookstore, but was too cheap to buy, until one book caught my eye. I snatched it up, took it home, and set to reading.

 

The name of the book, The New Strong-Willed Child by Dr. James Dobson. After all, other than some clinging issues, our first was a rather compliant child, but I couldn't afford to take any chances. I needed to be "prepared" in the eventuality that this second one was more headstrong.

 

I read the first chapter. The second. Then quit. It freaked me out. A young mother, I was already struggling with the idea that I would be capable of loving another child as much as the one I already had. If this second child acted like any of the case studies in Dr. Dobson's book, I was petrified that I wouldn't love the child at all. Plus, it just looked like so much work to love that kind of child. And mothering one obedient child was tiring enough.

 

Our second, a son, had issues like every other kid, but being strong-willed wasn't one of them. Antagonizing, anxious, goofy, sensitive- he's all of those. Strong-willed? Not really.

 

Then I had the privilege of raising a third child. For this child I prayed. And God let me have it. I wonder why Dobson's book doesn't grace our shelves as a source of constant wisdom.

 

 

 

You've gathered it from previous posts. She's our spit-fire. Our "wild card." Jekyll and Hyde. Time-bomb. She's even been referred to (lovingly) as Sybil on a couple occasions.

 

After a series of hard days this past week, I finally got around to asking people to pray for me as I navigate this relationship. The switch she flips between happy and irate was on a hair-trigger, and so was mine. It was rough and I was coming unglued.

 

It was her fault, I believed in the heat of the moment. I couldn't possibly be expected to respond civilly when she was always catching me off guard. But too much musing in bed revealed what I knew to be true. It was on me.

 

It reminded me of a point C.S. Lewis made in Mere Christianity. (Which is amazing, considering this morning I went into the basement to grab something, only to stare blankly at the overflowing shelf, completely lost as to what it was I needed. I headed back upstairs. Bingo. Paper plates. I chanted "paper plates" the whole way back down.)

 

"On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in the cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man: it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am." Mere Christianity, Book 4, Chapter 7

 

So I am embarking on a thankfulness journey, again. Not because it is November. Not even really of my own will. "After the first few steps in the Christian life we realize that everything which really needs to be done in our souls can be done only by God." Mere Christianity, Book 4, Chapter 7

 

It is starting because of this relentless love. Turns out, I can love a strong-willed child. No matter how long their season of stubbornness lasts.

 

And that's not on me, or in me. I have the rats of selfishness and anger running around in my cellar.

 

The relentless love begins, continues, and ends with God. I'm the strong-willed, weak-willed, disobedient, fickle child. And yet He rejoices in me. He delights in me. He loves me and He even likes me.

 

He rejoices in us. He strengthens us. He makes us new. He shines the light of His love into the cellars of our souls, and doesn't recoil at the rats.

 

Again and again and again.

 

And there is one person who reminds me of that day after day- my third-born. God will show me the good. Give grace to our short-comings. And if the only thing I see at the end of the day besides my regrets and her tantrums is His relentless forgiveness, then that's a good day.

 

Pray for me in this please!

If there are any prayer requests you have, please message me at my Facebook page!

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Today I am linking up with the fabulous writers at Faith Filled Friday! Click on the link and join us! Write, read, enjoy:)

I Check Jesus

The worship service was awesome, in case you were wondering. I sure do hope you aren't tired of reading the disastrous exploits of a young family in church, because I can tell you there is more where this came from.
 

The boy displayed near-OCD tendencies, adjusting of his mohawk while sitting in the front of the church- kneeling tall, facing backward on the pew to survey the crowd during the sermon.

The three year old was relentless, producing uncontrollable and inexplicable sobs throughout the service- the full realization of their origin not occurring until 15 minutes after we arrived home- whence she fell asleep.

 



So I quit my job as soon as I got home. It happens sometimes. I tell my husband that his kids annoy me, and then I take a breath before heading back out into the fray.

I meandered out of our bedroom, embraced by exhaustion and insanity, and then Scott mentioned his amusing exchange with our son.

 

It seems that while Scott was opening up the floor to any other announcements after church, our darling boy asked him to announce that there was a new sign up sheet in the back of the church. "For who you like better- Jesus or the devil."

 

"Yeah. I don't think so, Bud."

 

I asked our son if there was indeed that sign up in the back of the church. He confirmed it and went to fetch it for me. (There- it is recorded. He listened and obeyed. Remind me of this in the future, please.)

 

Scrawled in kindergarten handwriting on a communion card were his words (which I shall translate into modern English for you): "The wan (one) you lik (like) more. Check one. (I think.) Devil / Jesus."

 

Reasons for praise carried from the sanctuary to the kitchen.

 

I laughed and lauded. Then I asked, "Which one would you check?"

 

"Mom, I checked Jesus!"
 

 

Then from the oldest girl in the living room, "I check Jesus!"

 

And the three year old, "I check Jesus!"



 

They spoke the name of the devil with no fear. And the name of the Savior with no hesitation.

 

The name that is above every name, spoken by the young, the weak, the unruly. And how that must please Him.

 

Because they were borne of His will, not mine. And the hoodlums that send me to my room crying for just a bit of peace, are full of the life that He gave them. In the kitchen last Sunday, they spoke the name of their most important family member as though He was right there.

 

Out of the chaos a simple sentence, and the rest just melted away.

 

"I check Jesus!"

 

In the face of all the mountains of chores, deadlines, relationships, may I remember to Whom I belong. I am His and He is mine. You are in charge, Lord. I check Jesus.

 

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Today I am linking up with the writing family over at Simply Beth. Stop over! Read! Write! Link up! Encourage and be encouraged:)



Love Answers

My kids are not funny. Well actually, they're circumstantially funny quite a bit. Unintentionally- accidentally-they are hilarious. But deliberately, not so much. The older kids are getting better. They are honing their comedic skills, reading joke books and mastering the art of the punch line, even if they don't get the joke.

The three year old has a ways to go. Like last night:

Her: Knock-knock.
Me: Who's there?
Her: Apple.
Me: Apple who?
Her: There's a wolf outside! AHH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I must be quite the actress, because she translated my attempt at a laugh as, "Great joke, Babe! LOL! You're on a roll. Keep 'em coming!"

She turned to the second grader, "Knock-knock!"

The good thing about three year olds? Most of them look like three year olds. So you expect nonsense. You give all the right answers and they respond out of left field, because that's what they are supposed to do. It's their job.

Other three year old mentalities are a little harder to manage- because they are trapped in adult bodies. You give all the right responses and they respond out of left field, and you are left feeling exhausted, frustrated, and angry. You explode.

Where did that come from? What are they thinking? Didn't they hear what I said? I didn't say anything wrong! They are acting like such a three year old!

The funny thing is that whether we are three, thirty, or beyond, chances are we still haven't mastered the skills we need to predict human response: mind-reading and heart-seeking. No matter how many books we read, how much Dr. Phil we watch, how much therapy we sit through- we just can't get a handle on the inner workings of other people.

Look at those questions above again. Only this time, switch the "they"s and "I"s.

Honestly, we can't get a handle on our own hearts, minds, and actions.

That is a privilege the Lord reserves for Himself alone.

Isn't that awesome?! That's what David thought!

 

 

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
    you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
    and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
    behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
    and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
    it is high; I cannot attain it.

Psalm 139:1-6

So then is there no hope for us? If God alone knows the right thing to do, do we throw in the towel? No way. Because God didn't ask us to fill in for Him. He told us to love.

And love answers.

Love isn't about being right. It's about being there.

Love is about the Truth. And Truth is about Love. You cannot divorce the two. But being right is never the end goal. If it happens in the process, then I guess that's a bonus. But speaking from experience, any time my thoughts and energies were devoted to being right, I blew it on the love end. Any time my thoughts and energies were devoted to loving (really loving- not just sycophancy) the truth was served as well.

So, I'm pitching the palm-reading and turning in the turban. Enough of the predicting. I'm about 0 for a million, so I guess I wasn't that good anyway.

We're much better equipped for the love job. God makes sure of that. It's still hard and unpredictable, but it's worth it.

Praying you connect with God's love today, and love someone else in the process.

 

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This morning I am linking up with Missional Women for Faith Filled Friday!

A Christian Response: Why My Kids Are NOT the Center of My World

Just recently, I read an article quite a few Facebook friends posted on parenting titled, Why My Kids Are NOT the Center of My World. It was passionate and challenging. And for that reason I really liked it.

I write this response not because it was wrong, but because it was incomplete.

It was a very strong indicator of a parenting issue I've seen grow by leaps and bounds in my generation of parenting. There's a purposeless people crisis going on right now- fostered by crippling parenting techniques.

So we’ve hopped aboard the parenting pendulum that swings to either “modern” parenting that enables children- thereby disabling them from increasing their skill set and contributing to the world, or “old school” parenting- giving the kids a 24/7 dose of the loving reality that they aren’t the center of anyone’s world.

So as a Christian parent, how do I handle the truth that our Heavenly Father sacrificed His one and only Son so that we could be reconciled to Him? That action clearly indicates that I am worth dying for. I have value. How do I parent my kids and combat the lie that they are the most important person in the world, without swinging into the lie that they really aren’t that special?

By changing the focus. I like to call it our third dimension. Believers get another option. Ultimately, it’s not about us or them. It’s about Him.

Center of the Universe- we simply aren’t it. But that’s not because we aren’t that special compared to the population of the planet. It is because God is so surpassingly special.

I didn’t grow up learning to serve others and love others because that was the way to serve society. I didn’t grow up learning a good work ethic because that was how America was built, or because I owed it to the community around me.

I grew up learning those things because I grew up knowing God first loved me and acted on my behalf.

It’s not discipline that grows good kids into good adults. It’s love. It has always been love.

That doesn’t mean living for your kids. It doesn’t mean living in spite of your kids. It means living with your kids, and living for God.

It means teaching your kids that they have value beyond what the world says. And as a matter of fact, so does everyone else. So it means teaching your kids to treat every single human being as God would treat them- with love. Because everyone- every single person has value. God doesn’t screw up. He doesn’t make mistakes. (1 Cor 1:25-31)

It means teaching them that, while the world may be harsh, while they may be shoved and disregarded by mean people, they have the ability to take all those hurts and anguishes to a God who loves them. Who sympathizes with them because He endured it all. And endured it for them.

It means teaching them that it will all be worth it. That when you die to self and live for Christ, all that other crap isn’t that big of a deal.

It means teaching them consequences. Because God uses discipline to prune out the branches in our life that would block out His presence and shrivel our faith. It hurts- daily- but our faith is strengthened most in the times we realize our need for Him.

It means teaching them perseverance. To not give up. To never quit or grow weary of doing good. It means teaching them to follow through because God has it all worked out and will complete that good work in us. (Galatians 6:9)

It means teaching them thankfulness. Teaching them to pray in thankfulness because every moment is a gift. Every moment has been given to us- good and bad- by a faithful God who never deigns for us to go it alone.

It means teaching them to be prepared. Because attacks will come. They’ll be disguised in human flesh, but the devil is on the prowl. (Ephesians 5:10) And God doesn’t leave them stranded ever. He prepares hearts, and the battle is His alone. They need only be still and let Him do His work.

It means teaching them to forgive like you’ve been forgiven.

It means teaching them that God’s near enough to talk to.

 It means that our lives are all wrapped in to one big story- His story. And that they are so crucial to it because His love for them is one of a kind. His love in their life glorifies His ultimate goodness.

It means teaching them to wait, because God’s timing is always best. (Galatians 4:4)

It means teaching them to live passionately, because there is more to life than working hard and accumulating knowledge. More than skills and money. Even more than faith. Without love from God, you can wipe your be-hind with all good stuff of the world, cause it’s worthless. That’s why it doesn’t fulfill. It wasn’t meant to. (1 Cor 13)

It means teaching them to live by faith, not by sight. It means teaching them to live courageously, because courage looks beyond the trials to the end goal. There will be times when their circumstances seem too much to handle- but godly courage lifts their eyes to the One who holds their future. It may be risky, but God is right there. (2 Corinthians 6:5-7)

It means bringing them to Jesus. Not on Sundays- every day. Because their troubles don't keep a calendar. They don't care what you're doing on Friday night- they might just show up. And if your dear ones are only acquainted with a weekend Jesus- they are going to be lost. Plus, Jesus is just so awesome. Really. And you can grow in your love for Him and each other simultaneously- BONUS!

I'm sure it means teaching my kids lots of other things too. There are oodles and oodles of scripture passages- you are welcome to add any in comments- that I could have used. But see, I was supposed to clean the office when I sat down to write this and I'm not good at multitasking when I type. My bad. But it's ok, because I know my value goes way beyond my typing-tasking prowess. So I won't let it get me down. See how that works? ;)

We will not hide them from their children,
    but tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might,
    and the wonders that he has done.

Psalm 78:4

Take a Picture

"I should have taken a picture."

His eyes surveyed the kitchen in search of the photographic gem to which I was, no doubt, referring. He found nothing. "Of what?"

"Of this." My arm swept the room. "It was clean this morning."

Really clean. I don't mean clean for a home of 6. I mean, legitimately clean.

But in the battle of stuff and counters. Really, the counters were just outnumbered. And trampled. By the stuff.

And I was tempted, so tempted, to view the morning scrub as a wash. Why? Why, when it's just going to get messy again?

Ever feel like a hamster on a wheel? Always moving- never getting anywhere? Wake up. Shower (maybe). Feed. Eat. Drink...

Fear not, for I am with you...

In a world where my most immediate threat is the flu bug or if the snow pants from last year will fit the kids, those words could threaten hollowness.

But they don't.

Because my most immediate fears come from within- not without.

What if it doesn't matter?
What if I miss something?
What if I can't protect them?
What if they don't need me?

Because, while I feel like my little feet are scrambling over already trodden ground, I see the progression of time. Measured it in foliage, store merchandise, farm machinery consuming the hillsides. Reaping what they sow, I know I will too one day.

What if I screw up?

He answers that fear as clearly as He does every other fear- with His name.

Screw up? Lauren surely will. It's a when, not an if.

But God never screws up. He created me, recreated me, and I bear His name.

But now thus says the Lord,

he who created you, O Jacob,

he who formed you, O Israel:

 

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name, you are mine...

 

Everyone who is called by name,

whom I created for my glory,

whom I formed and made."

 

Isaiah 43:1, 7

I should have taken a picture. Not because it was so awesome (which it really was), but because this ground that we tread, as worn as it may be, is hallowed ground. The Lord of all creation dwells within us, blesses the messes, and uses it all for His glory.

Praying that your world reflects the glory of your Lord today, no matter how cluttered, dusty, or grimy it may be. The Father chose a trough to hold His only Son, and He has chosen us as well!

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This morning, I am linking up with Simply Beth for Three Word Wednesday! Want to read some wonderful posts on three words? Just click on the button on the right!

Laundry

Can anyone please tell me when laundry made it to the list of credentials for a good mom? Like there is some weekly diagnostic test as to the efficacy of my mommy-hood, and laundry is right there at the top.

Sister, I fail.

And I have half a mind to crawl into a little fuel-efficient time machine and do a little rewriting of history.

A few years back, I read a well-meaning blog post from a young mother who really insisted that cleanliness and laundry be at the top of our list of things to do because that was good stewardship. It revealed to the Lord, and everyone else, just how thankful and grateful we are to God for His good gifts. Really, she meant well. We should appreciate His gifts- we really should.

But thankfully, my young mommy self puzzled and stewed and ranted, and finally read and prayed enough to know that not all gifts are created equal.

I simply cannot put clothes on par with kids. And if you want to know my real reason for the epic disaster that is my laundry-littered basement, it's those kids. And the laundry genie I ordered a few months ago still hasn't arrived...

First things first. Priorities. Lessons from motherhood. Laundry shouldn't be its own circle of hell. Laundry doesn't need to be the cruel tyrant in the kingdom that is my life. God is the only Lord I have, thank you. So, if you happen to have to wade through the ocean of clean or dirty clothes in my basement, or smell my shirt and realize I really should have just cleaned it again after I wasn't sure if it sat too long in its own wet after being washed, here is a good idea of the things I was doing instead of watching the washer.

Feeding kids. I do this a lot. Like, every five minutes it seems.
Reading to kids.
Talking to kids
Playing with kids.
Reading to me.
Cooking.
Laughing.
Tickling.
Talking to my husband.
Shopping for groceries.
Shopping for us.
Quiet time.
Talking to sister friends.
Singing.
Dancing.
Writing.
Praying.
Running.
Sleeping.

To get to laundry would take a five minutes all its own. In the meantime, I'm extending grace. To you. To me.
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Today's post is part of a series called Five Minute Friday, hosted by Lisa-Jo Baker over at the Gypsy Mama. A ton of rad writers take her prompts and, for five minutes- or thereabouts- patch an amazing global quilt of God-glorifying blog posts. Click on the Five Minute Friday button and join us! I feel like I should also give a shout-out to the awesome gift that is my husband. I don't raise these kids or do this laundry without a partner in crime- you rock, Scott!

Ordinary

 

“It never failed to amaze me how the most ordinary day could be catapulted 

into the extraordinary in the blink of an eye.” 
― Jodi Picoult, Handle With Care

 

She sprawls, eyes wide and smiling. One foot, then the next. A little cotton sock, flowered pink, stretched over five chubby toes, the ball, the heel, the foot. She wriggles, all smiles. I take my index finger, gently stroke it down the center of her sole. And in return, her squeals stroke my soul as well.

 

Best. job. ever.

 

So ordinary, yet I wonder at how her laughter lifts me so, and if God perchance feels that delight when we laugh at His playfulness. At His gifts of joy.

 

More time. More day. More ordinary. Lunch at school. 6 year old fingers clutch my sleeve tightly as he smiles and points to his friends, "She's here! My mom is here!" All that time that has flown by in a gust of ordinary, but I'm given the gift of stopping, sharing, eating beef and bean nachos with some of the most remarkable kindergarteners in the world. Time for recess. Oh I miss that! Watching the boy play soccer, the girl play basketball, and the hordes of children not from my womb, yet in whose world I get to play a part. Even just a smile.

 

The weather is not ordinary. Warm for October. So we take advantage of a night when everyone is home, and resolve to play basketball at the church.

 

Lost shoes. Lost balls. Lost minds. Lost time. But we are out the door, and within 15 minutes every single child has cried, except one. The toddler, for whom crying is the primary language, is the only one who doesn't bawl about something, or everything.

 

The crying is sprinkled with intermittent laughter, berry picking, applause.

We travel home in the sunset...

 

She's three, but she sees my phone and hears the clicks and understands. Her perspective just slightly off from mine, she sees what I miss.

 

"Are you taking a picture of the heart tree, Mom?"

 

I am now.

 

 

And as we race back to the house, over the cracked sidewalk, hampered by tiny toddling feet and clutching fingers, I carry the balls and the little one up the driveway, and I see that the preschooler must have been too spent from the evening's recreation to carry her doll all the way inside.

 

Or even to keep her completely dressed.

 

I laugh, head shaking. Completely tickled.

 



Tickling, that sensitivity to touch, it's not just physical.

 

When I am overcome by the grumps and growls of life, I have lost touch with my Maker. Become blind and calloused to His presence in the day to day. To be sensitive to the One who touches us in the ordinary is a gift, and an everyday goal.

 

Today I am praying you will see and feel Him- especially in your ordinary.

 

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Joining Lisa-Jo Baker, and other brave and brilliant writers, today for Five Minute Friday. Though I confess, this took a bit longer than 5 minutes... If you'd like to read other perspectives on the prompt "Ordinary," or want to join us in the fun, just click on the button to the bottom right!

 

Messy Monday: Found

Yesterday was a moment to let dishes sit and lunch turn to crusty cement on our kitchen table, because my kids were ready to play outside. I was ready to play too.

 

We headed into the sunshine to run, bike, and roller skate while the men-folk played football in the yard. My three-year-old emerged from the cluttered garage with a packet of cilantro seeds that had apparently been shuffled into the unknown for the duration of the summer, as well as a package of Easter stickers from goodness knows where. She toted both in the woven white and magenta basket on her bike until a moment of enlightenment.

 

An impromptu game of hide-and-seek sprouted organically from our play. I climbed atop the tube slide, pressed against the wooden wall of our church's ark. I heard her giggles as she found her sister and they set off in search of me. One minute later a laughing face shouted, "I found you!" I was caught, but there was a consolation prize. "You want a sticker?" For each time she found me I was given a shiny Easter sticker, and of course so was she.

 

I drove to pick up our pizza, stickers emblazing the fact that I was a proud parent of a preschooler. I owned every bit of it.

 

To bear the marks of my daughter is a gift.

 

To bear the marks of my Savior, immeasurably greater.

 

For the run-down, bone-weary moments, we have a Savior who points to our lives and says,

 

Remember when I found you?

 

When we are tempted to feel failure as our very definition, He points to our lives and says,

 

Remember when I found you?

 

As though we could be emblazoned with days and moments that sing for joy, I belong to Christ!

 

 My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,

 

As though we could roll out of bed to the sight of our Savior smiling in the morning sun,  Found you.

 

when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
 

Remember when you hid behind your pride,

And I found you?

 

Remember when you couldn't see a way out of the darkness,

And I found you?

 

Remember when people were cruel and you cowered inside yourself,

And I found you?

 

Remember when the pain covered you with a patchwork of injury,

And I found you?

 

Remember when your anger was so great you feared it would consume you,

And I found you?

 

 for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.

Psalm 63:5-7 

 

Over and over until our whole lives are just enormous testimonies to the Founder and Foundation.

 

Three Word Wednesday: Walk As Children

Let's be honest, humankind has a pretty lousy track record with snake-related distractions. And my children are no different.

There is a new found freedom in our household, and it comes in the form of the two oldest kids adventuring the whole 1 block home from school by themselves. I'm not going to lie, I'm still nervous about this most days, and frankly, they haven't done a whole lot to assuage my paranoia.

Like when they didn't come home last week. Ok, we give them a grace period of about 15 minutes seeing as they have an uncontrollable urge to assault every person they have ever met ever with a barrage of hugs and high fives. I must say, I love that about their school.

But when 20 minutes have passed and still no kiddos? "Better go get 'em," I tell my husband, and he heads out the door.

It wasn't the first time a snake would be blamed for the transgression of man. This snake was a pet, and the student who brought it to school had a blast showing it off.

And my kids are easily distracted.

So when I tell you my three words, don't think I am inviting you to distraction, or irresponsibility. It is certainly not a call to childishness. Goodness knows we don't need any more of that.

Walk as children.

 

"For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light  (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true)," Galatians 5:8-9

The point of this passage lies more in walking in the light, discerning right from wrong and avoiding the ways of darkness.

But golly, what if we were to do that as children instead of fuddy-duddy adults?

What if our days were less about plowing from Point A to Point B, and more about exploring the sights along the way?

Because if you have ever E-VER tried to walking anywhere with a child at a reasonable rate to keep on some agenda accomplishing pace,

and if that child has ever thrashed about to get out of their stroller so they could walk themselves,

and if you have felt the knot of anxiety welling up in your heart and the feeling of powerlessness in compelling your child to walk in a straight line,

and if you have then determined that all of Satan's powers have now been concentrated into every itty-bitty crawling thing and colorful plant that could possibly lead your child astray,

and if you have then prayed to the good Lord above that you make it to your destination before nightfall,

then you know what a curious thing childlike fascination is.

And sometimes you might want it back yourself.

Because sometimes walking grown-up style is tedious and boring, and who doesn't want to skip now and again? Hold hands with a friend? Run as fast as you can? Question your world?

Just plain play?

Take the detour that eats up the time we claim as our own and spend it doing something worthwhile: marveling at how good our God is. After all, kids do it all the time.

When through the woods and forest glades I wander,

I hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.

When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur,

And hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze,

 

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,

How great Thou art, How great Thou art.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,

How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

-How Great Thou Art

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If you'd like to join in Three Word Wednesday, write your own three words, or just read some good writing, simply click on the button on the right and link up!

The Samaritan Woman and The Next Big Thing

We run into a funny obstacle when we read our favorite familiar Bible stories: we know how they end.

During Bible study the other night, the Bible Study Beauties and I spent some time with the woman of Samaria at the well. As that camped about in my mind the next morning I realized a very simple, but startling truth. She didn't know she was going to meet Jesus that day.

Think about it. The woman didn't wake up, go about her chores, hoist her water jar thinking, "Off to meet the Savior of the world." In fact, I would contend that she was more likely preoccupied with meeting up with haters than True Love.

I reread the account of the woman that Jesus just had to meet (John 4:4). We are so much alike, Sister.

I may have a husband, but that doesn't mean I don't go about my daily tasks with my mind on anything but the Savior. It doesn't mean that sometimes I take care of my kids and console my wearied heart with the empty dreams of what I will do in the next season of my life; the things I will accomplish when my kids are all in school and I am no longer tied to diapers and sippy cups. As though this season is merely a hiatus in an otherwise planned and significant life.

The Samaritan woman and I have been bogged down by the burdens of the day to day, but taken the moments to think about the next big thing.

"I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ). When he comes, he will tell us all things." (John 4:26)

And then comes the part that blows my mind:

Jesus said to her, "I who speak to you am he."

This foreign woman living in sin deeper than any disgusting well received the gospel from the Gospel, her downcast eyes lifted and opened to a reality that her ancestors longed to see. And she got to speak to Him. See Him. Hear Him.

His words are the same for us day-to-day sinners with our nose to the grindstone and our eyes on the tasks at hand. The ones who in the brief pauses of the tiresome day look forward to the next big thing, not realizing just how big this thing is right here. Right now.

And I like to see that God's sense of humor allows Him to reveal Himself in even the most commercial of arenas. The Samsung Galaxy Translation: The next big thing is already here...

I admit, I'm an iPhone user and a proud one at that. But Samsung really hit the nail on the head with that phrase. (I'd have preferred that they not made us iPhone users all look obsolete, but that's for another post.) It's like they tapped into one of the most basic methods Satan uses to lure us away from the grace and beauty around us- his lie that what we are, where we are, is not as good as what and where we should be.

Jesus meets us at the wells of our lives and hands us the dirty laundry, the full dishwasher, the crying baby, all gifts.We are so busy accomplishing and looking forward to what's next that we miss His presence, reminding us that He is the only big thing, and He is here. Already here.

So let's vow together to look at where we are and see Him here. In His Word. His sacraments. In our service to the least of these. I don't think Jesus would have stressed so often the responsibility of caring for children if it wasn't such a big deal. We see big things people do, famous people recognized for their big works even towards furthering the kingdom, and forget that the biggest ways Christ demonstrated His love for the world were done in the small things. Born in a manger. A carpenter's son in a small town. A small band of common men for followers. A criminal's death on a cross. Even his miracles were accomplished for those who were, or believed themselves to be, the least worthy.

And then there is the perk to rereading those old favorites. We know how they end. With a risen and ascended Savior. So if we are to spend our time looking for the next big big thing, let it be living in anticipation of His blessed and joyous return.

Messy Monday: Keeping Score

I've been rocking out a lot since school ended. My seven year old love love LOVES Britt Nicole, which is fine by me because I just can't overestimate my affinity for a good beat. It puts me into some happy, motivated place. And I've needed it recently.

For whatever reason, I have been in a funk lately and just given into it. You know, you just sit there and go, "I know I shouldn't be thinking this, but I don't care. Let me wallow in my baseless whining." So much easier it is to just let myself be jealous or a victim than to intentionally remind myself of who I am because I belong to Christ. (But here's the secret- that's really just a lie. Giving into the "easy" just drains the spirit in the long run, while fighting it and feeding the truth renews our strength like the eagles'.)

So Britt Nicole and the like have been serenading us frequently since my daughter is home from school full time, and as I was cleaning on Saturday she sang a lyric that struck me anew. One of those lyrics that I think, "Oh, I hope my girls learn this truth. Remember this truth," when it's really me that needs to hear it. I guess I haven't outgrown as much as I'd hoped...

Everybody keeps score. Afraid your gonna lose. Just ignore, they don't know the real you.

 

Now to be fair- no one keeps score on me. I keep score on myself. I'm the one who forgets the real me.

 

That's what turns me into my pity-party mess...

 

As soon as the words hit my brain, I realized that's what I've been doing lately. Keeping score- and everyone else is ahead. Better moms, wives, singers, writers, etc. Everyone just seems more worthy.

 

Then a piece popped out of my mental archive. Turns out this must be a recurring theme in my life because I just wrote about it for the church newsletter... So here it is!



It’s Not About the Score

 

There is something amazing about little feet and legs and bodies chasing a ball on a blanket of green. Maybe it is just me, but to watch kids on a soccer field, running with all their might, kicking, passing, scoring, celebrating- my heart just bursts into little pieces when they are exhausted and smiling.

Last year, I remember my son running up to me after every goal their team scored. Jumping, bounding, giving fives. I thought just like our relationship with the Father. It hit me that the pride and joy I felt in both my little soccer players was a gift- a glimpse into God’s regard for His children. His regard for me. The insignificance of my daily chores suddenly became reasons to give God a high five and be reminded that my Coach was right on the field with me, and celebrating my every play!

 

This year started much the same way. The aunts and uncles and grandparents received pictures of their grandkids, niece and nephew, scoring goals and taking names. The grace and beauty of their form and footwork- it was no less than perfect art to me. My heart ached with love as my kids talked nonstop after the games about how they played.

 

Then my son's team lost. Quite handedly. It was one of those games where we wondered if the kids packed their cleats and shin-guards, but not their feet and brains. And you could see it on their faces; they were just as baffled as the rest of us. They were trying. Trying hard. But nothing connected. Like everything we had done the past few weeks was undone in one night.

 One boy was devastated. He probably would have torn his clothes in mourning had he the strength. His brother, on the other hand, did manage to score- and brilliantly-on his own team. But you should have seen his face light up. I just smiled that I-can’t-break-this-kid’s-heart smile and held out my hand. With an “I scored!” he gave me five. I then gently suggested he try scoring in the opposite goal the next time.

 My son wasn’t too rocked by the loss. “We lost 9-1,” he told his Auntie Sarah, and that was about it.

 My son didn’t feel like a loser. He felt Grady Jensen, the soccer player who lost a game. He knew what was really important- that even when he lost, his mother and father still loved and cared for him. It became immediately apparent that the real demonstration of my love was much more significant when he had nothing to “offer” to earn it. His ability to keep things in perspective was an example for me to follow.

 

It is easy to define ourselves by our roles. We rate our job performance on a spectrum from Loser to Winner and determine God’s love accordingly. Then we lose it. Nothing connects. We wonder where we left our mind. Some days I ask God, “How can you love me? I’m such a horrible mom.” I turn myself into a mom who follows God, instead of a child of God who is also a mom. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ… Ephesians 2:4-5 (boldface mine)

What makes the difference?

 

Relationship. A relationship entirely dependent on a loving Father. A relationship that is not contingent on what we have to offer- which is awesome because, outside of Jesus Christ, there isn’t a human being on earth that has ever made the grade.

 

We all lose, but we are not losers. We are champions in a very literal and eternal sense. All those other vocations we have- those are just gravy. Those are graces upon grace; things we do for the glory of God because we can, not because we have to climb some ladder of success to achieve significance. In fact, it is when we are at our lowest that we are forced to look up, and God’s love reveals itself most faithful …so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God. Ephesians 2: 7-8