To Know

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Each and every day there are things I just don't understand.

I like to understand.  I like to know.  This morning, I was struck with the reality that I don't hold ambiguity very well.  Many of us don't.

I remember taking a personality test a few years back that proved that my ability to tolerate ambiguity was quite low... or underdeveloped.  I didn't really need a test to show this.  I know it well.  Each and every day.

Yesterday we had some hard and sad news.  The news included certain pain.  But, also much ambiguity.  ...as does most difficult news. 

If I am honest, in my line of work, we have hard and sad news quite regularly.  But, don't we all?  I mean, really!?  Don't we all.  Each and every day.

I felt like yesterday's news hung around my neck like a dark, wet blanket.  Heavy.  Hard to carry.  How many times did I pray... Lord, I am just sad. Father, I feel so very sad.  
All day long, questions filled my mind...  Why?  Why, Lord?  What are You up to, here?  What are You doing? What should I do?   

I want to know the answer.  I like to know.

This morning I had a lovely moment of fleeting light and a lift to the heaviness of the damp, sad news.  Psalm 90 reminded me,

"Lord, You have been our dwelling place from generation to generation.  Before You made the mountains and brought forth the earth, from everlasting to everlasting You are God"  (Psalm 90:1,2)

As these words were read, I could feel the lift and the peace swell deep within my heart.

He is.  And, He knows.

Stephanie, I know.  

Is that enough?  Today, yes, it is enough.   God isn't ambiguous.  He, Himself, is firm, certain, clear, and definite.  He has always been.  He will always be.  From always and for always...  and He knows.

You know, Lord.  

Solid One, my rock.  You are the place I live.  You are my home, my refuge, my hiding place. You are my dwelling place.   

Can you just sit and wait, Stephanie?

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It was 2 in the afternoon when the electricity went off.

Surprised, I got up and went in search of the landlady to let her know.

I had come away for a few days of quiet retreat with the Lord.  Staying in a tiny little cottage down the road from my house, I had been having a great time journaling and praying.  

Hardly even bothered about the electrics, I stuck my head out of the cottage and happened upon the landlady to let her know about the shut-down. She wasn't surprised; but apologetically explained that she would have it all sorted by 4----a few hours time.  No worries, right?  

The hours past quickly as I continued to worship, journal, read and pray.  I first realized the passing of time when I noticed the darkening of the room and I started to get a little cold (the heating is connected to the electrics).  I got up in order to start the kettle for a cup of tea.  ...no electricity.   Looking at the clock, it was now 5 PM...  and the daylight was quickly leaving.  My little cottage was starting to get dark and cold---and I just wanted a hot drink.  

So, slightly bothered now, I popped my head out of the cottage in search of the landlady.  She was no where to be found.  So, I ventured out...  finding the electricians hard at work by flashlight and lanterns.  Yes, darkness was indeed quickly descending.  

I politely asked them when they might be done working... and they assured me that it would only be another half hour at most.  As I turned away from them and began walking back to my dark cabin, I felt the strong urge to cry... sadness was welling up---hard and fast.  

Wow!  These strong emotions...for this relatively small thing, Lord...  What is this about, Father? I want to weep here.  What is really going on in my heart.  

I sat down and picked up my journal and with the trickle of light from the descending sun,  I wrote: "This is definitely not only about the electricity!" 

I spent the next few minutes crying and writing...  trying to articulate all the "small" and large things that have been frustrating lately.  ...the myriad of things that I am and have been waiting for.  

Waiting.  It is not an easy thing to do!  I am not a patient person.  ...and there is a lot of waiting and ambiguity in this life.  

The landlady said it would be working at 4:00... it was now nearly 6 PM.  I was cold, getting hungry, tired, and it was dark.  I was imminently loosing my the ability to do any journaling or reading.  

The next hour was spent in utter frustration.  In and out of the cottage, I went.  Making my annoyance known in small ways... I paced, I sighed.  I asked again--- when?  When will this be sorted?  I kept getting the same answer...  only a few more minutes.  Surely just 20 more minutes.  

The sadness I had been feeling slowly and steadily turned to anger.  Utter frustration.  

As I sat in the dark cabin... verses kept coming to my head, on after another.  Wait on the Lord.  Wait for the Lord continually (Hosea 12:6).  Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him (Psalm 37:7).  I wait for the Lord, my soul waits!  (Psalm 130:5)  

Just wait.  Can you just wait?  

Stephanie, wait on the Lord. 

At 7:15, I texted my husband:  Dark.  Cold.  Hungry.  Electricity is still out.  I am done.  I am so frustrated.  Waiting in the dark...  

He wrote back:  Do you want me to come get you?  

Clear as a sun-filled day, I knew in that instant the answer to that kind question from my husband...  

I knew.  I knew I needed to wait.  

I texted back...  I don't know.  ...No,  I think God is asking me to wait.  

He texted back...  Ok.  Wait it is.  Hmmmm...  Waiting in the dark.  Praying for you right now.  

Yep!  He knows.  My husband knows all the things we are waiting for.  

In that moment, I put my phone down.  I  walked over with distinct purpose and sat on the couch. With stubborn resolve... with a sorta-"fine, then!"-mild tantrum feeling, I sat down.

OK, Lord,  I am going to wait!!  I don't know how long, but here I am...  Here I am.  I am waiting.  Into the dark, I went and I sat. Hands on my knees, sitting with obstinate determination... I sat and chose to wait. In that moment I felt surrender.  

It was only seconds, hardly even a minute later...the lights came on.  

Just like that... as if with perfect comedic timing the Lord responded to my final surrender with: Good!  Well done.  Finally!  And, bam! the electricity came on.  

It was 7:30 PM and God had another life lessons for me...  Can you wait, Stephanie?  Just stop, sit down... be still and know that I am God.  Not the first time we have been here!  But, indeed, here we are again.   Just waiting.  

Sorting and Slowly Saying Goodbye

She is sorting her room.  It's time.  In 12 short weeks, she will pack up and leave this home... beginning the launch into a new world.

Bravely, she has been sorting and purging her things.  Her clothes...  ah!! but, I remember her in that shirt, that dress, that sweater!  

This girl, my sweet girl.  The one who keeps everything... the girl who remembers gifts given to her from 10 years ago.
With courage, she sorts and she purges.

Her art... her crafts...her jewelry... her books...   ah!  I remember those art books and the years of painting with those brushes!   ah!  I remember her devouring that book series.  

Unlike some, we don't have the freedom (or the "illusion" of freedom) to assume we will be in this physical place forever... so she has to pack it all up.  It all needs to be put in a box or a bag... a few things to store for "memory" sake (can Grandma's attic even take any more of our things!?)  ...a few things to fill a dorm room.

Most of her things...  most---we will just give away.  The first load went today.  Dad drove it up to the local charity store and offered these things as a gift.  We lay it down and give it away.  It feels heavy as we carry the boxes of books and label them "free to a good home".  ...in a strange way, the books feel like they have life in them---tied so strongly to a lovely memory of her.  Her childhood in a pile stacked in a box.  ...memories of her snuggled up in bed, reading.

It's a strange journey we walk here on earth.  All of us.  We know, somewhere deep, that this earth is not our home.  We are not long for here.  We know this.  Scripture tells us that walking this sod is only a quick, whispering breath in the scheme of time and Reality.

"Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business, and make a profit.” You do not even know what will happen tomorrow! What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If the Lord is willing, we will live and do this or that.” (James 4:13-15)

Our lives are just a mist...  a mist that appears and then vanishes.  

So why does it hurt so much to let these things go?  Why does this pink sweater, this piece of art, that necklace, and these books... why do they tug at my mother's heart and hurt so much.  Why does the box of books feel so very heavy as I lay it down? 

I am pondering and sorting with her, I think.  I am sorting through memories.  Sorting through the truth of these last 18 years...  

I told her today that part of me wants to do it all over again!  She was such a joy to parent.  Like a good, familiar book that you want to snuggle up to read over and over again---I want to 'read' those years just one more time.  

But books are not always for keeping---they mold and gather dust.  The jewelry rusts.  The sweater will fray...  And, the sweater is not her. These things are not full of life.

And, ....and, my girl is not for holding-on-to.   I can't keep her.  She was never mine to begin with...  I must let go.  I must continue to release and surrender.  

Bravely, today I sort and purge with my girl.  I remember and rejoice.  I regret and rehearse.  With courage, I allow the very-now of sadness and grief to come.  I let go and lay down.  I hope and I pray. I trust and I press-in to the One who IS always.  

For, I, too, am launching into a new place...  

Small things

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Small, seemingly insignificant moments in my every day.  Seconds.  Minutes.  My spiritual growth seems so clearly linked to these moments.   Awareness and attentiveness to the small things a key.  "Paying attention to what you are paying attention to" is what Curt Thompson writes is crucial to the renewed mind in Christ.  

It seems that these every-day, mundane realities and problems are where some of my greatest battles are fought and victories won.  

These real things---the laundry pile, the “to do” list, the spill on the floor, the thing I forgot to do, the mistake, the friend who is struggling, the phone call I need to make--- these things fight for my attention, my thoughts and my allegiance.  Now, fair enough, each small moment can be linked to big, tough realities; but it is that wisp-of-time that counts.   That spark of a moment.  In those passing seconds, growth can happen.  

When the sudden concerned decision about what to make for dinner, or the drifting thought to 'that’ part of my body which is less than ‘perfect’, or even that creeping fear when I feel the physical ache in my stomach again--- it is in these small moments that something big and important is found and fought for.  It is here that I have a choice.  

Planning, thinking, calculating, doing, answering, figuring, fixing, worrying, or hiding… these are my natural bend.  Sometimes these natural skills are gifts from God, to be sure; but these pathways can become quick idols and in those snippets of seconds these coping strategies can steal from my faith and trust.  

This morning I heard something else.  Was it the Spirit of Jesus that whispered, just as the 'calculating and planning' had begun in my head?  A peaceful, gentle word:  “You know… there is another way.” 

There is another way, Stephanie.  

It was in this moment today I had a choice.  Worry was tugging on my mind.  Which “drawer” in my mind would I go to?  Which pathway would I choose?  His Spirit reminds my heart that He has given me peace, rest and a place to sit---still and secure.  This “drawer” is available to me in that moment.  Every moment.  

Can you trust me now, Stephanie.  For this too?  You have another way available…  Talk to me about what to cook for dinner, about your friend, about your body, and about your laundry pile.   Talk to me.  Rest in me.  Remain.  Ask.  Seek and knock.  

There is another way.  In this very moment.  

Looking for the Rainbow

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It rains often where I live.  A lot.  ...I mean it... it rains a lot!

As I sit here and glance out the window, I see the rain begin again... It is our 'normal' here.  And, I don't hate it.  I know that I live in a very green land and, in truth, we are green here because of the rain.  Green and rain go hand-and-hand.  Today, though, I realize that it is raining while at the same time it is bright and sunny. With that recognition comes excitement.   My heart leaps with a happy thought, "There will be a rainbow!"  Somewhere I know there will be a rainbow.  I just have to find it!  Go looking for it...

Praying, a few months back, for my two children, my mother's heart was asking that my kids would be spared from pain--- this specific pain, that pain, ANY pain, Lord.   Spare them from any pain, Lord. In that moment, as the cry of my heart issued forth, my attention was drawn immediately to the window.  I looked outside and saw the rain.  In the quietness and with a gentle whisper, I felt the Lord breathe a truth into my heart...  In order for green and growth, we need sunshine AND rain, Stephanie. Both are necessary.   

Sunshine and rain.  

I know this.  We all know this.  But, oh!, how we feel when the rain and storms of life come.  With this kind reminder from God, I began to pray differently.  Okay, Lord.  Yes, I want my children to be 'green' with life!  I want them to grow and flourish in You.  So, Lord... I trust You with the rain.  Bring rain AND sunshine in my children's lives.  Only as much rain as necessary, Father!  ...Lord, protect them from floods and storms that are not necessary to their growth.  Protect them from hail and destructive hurricanes.  But, I say "yes and amen!" to Your gifts of sunshine and rain in their lives.  

I pray.  I begin again to trust and believe--- Lord, help me with my unbelief.  And, I ask that they would grow.  I also pray that they would look for and see more and more rainbows.  Go looking for it...

How I Wish I Had Gold!

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I received an early Christmas gift last week and it was a massive surprise.  Extravagant and unexpected, this gift shocked me when I saw it.   My kids now fondly call this gift "The 'Oh my goodness!'" Apparently, that is what I said over and over again when I saw it.  I was so surprised!  Those were the words that came out...  "Oh my goodness!... Oh! my goodness! ... Oh! my goodness!"

In reality, these were hardly words and mostly just raw emotion.  I was overwhelmed.  I was so thankful.

Tonight as we were singing some familiar Christmas carols, I was struck with a line in one of the songs... "so bring Him incense, gold and myrrh, come peasant, king to own Him"  (from What Child is This?).  As I sang these words, I had this unexpected, deep, almost-groaning-desire well up within me and my soul whispered a prayer...  Oh! Jesus, if only I had gold.  

Oh! Jesus if only I had gold.  I would lay it down.  I would lay it at your feet.  

I was overwhelmed tonight with the thought of This extravagant gift.  Jesus.  "a son given"  (Isaiah 9:6)

Jesus.  Given.  And, my heart was washed with a sense of awe and an "Oh! my goodness!" that was beyond words.

What can I lay down tonight in response to This Amazing Gift--- Jesus, my brother?  My friend.  My loving and grace-filled Savior.  My redeemer.  My everything!  How can I say thank you?   Words fail me.

I could lay down this extravagant Christmas gift given to me last week.  Yes! Absolutely, in a heart beat.  I lay it down.  But, really, it would be just pittance.  Pittance.

What can I lay down, Lord Jesus?  I will bring it...  I will lay it at your feet!

What is my gold?  What is my incense and my myrrh?

There is only a deep, welling desire to worship.

Oh how I wish I had gold!

"Haste! Haste to bring Him laud..."  

The Beauty of Death

The piercing wind and cold has come to this beautiful land.  We must use our fire each day to keep our house warm and a simple, quick walk to take out the trash leaves me deeply cold.  I must sit in front of the blazing wood fire, in order to take the chill off my back and keep it out of my bones.

Fall has come and winter is on it's heals fast here!

As I took my morning walk yesterday, out and into the fields around our house, I was struck with the beauty of death.

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All around me the leaves are dying and falling.  They littered my path in browns, oranges and red.  What beauty to behold in this always-green place I live.  Color scattered!  They die and fall.  As they die the display such splendor.

Beauty in death.  As I walk and pray, I am reminded of the Scriptures that I have been directed to as of late:  "teach me to number my days rightly, that I may apply my heart to wisdom."  (Psalm 90:12) and "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."  (Mark 8:34)

Not all death is beautiful, I know.  I know this deeply and watch other deaths around me every day with a profound, deep, lingering sadness.  Like seeing the once berry-full-bushes which gave me such joy as we ate our way through the fields only a month ago.  Now, they look horrid... withered, black, abandoned, and tired.  Will they ever produce again?  These remind me of ugly deaths.

But, some death can be beautiful.  Death can fall with color...

Thomas a Kempis reminds us, "My dear friends, abandon yourself, and you will find Me.  Give up your will and every title to yourself, and you will always come out ahead, for greater grace will be yours the moment you turn yourself over to Me once and for all."

Reuben Job reminds us, "Jesus always invites us to choose life by forsaking our way of life for his way of life."  

And, Henri Nouwen writes, "In the act of prayer, we undermine the illusion of control by divesting ourselves of all false belongings and by directing ourselves totally to the God who is the only one to whom we belong.  Prayer is the act of dying to all that we consider to be our own and of being born to a new existence which is not of this world.  Prayer is indeed a death to the world so that we can live for God".  

A greater grace.  Choosing life through death.  A new existence that is not of this world.  To live for God. To live in God... through God.  This can be a death that sparkles with color!

Would denying myself... my choice to die to me and choose life, real life--- His life in me... Could that death be colorful and beautiful?  I think so.  This is what I am pondering today.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.  The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me."  Galatians 2:20

re-post from October 2011

Painful Release and Surrender

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What must she have felt the day she dropped Samuel off at the temple?

What pain must have ripped through her chest, tugging at her heart, as she turned and walked away?  What sorrow did she encounter as she slept her first night alone... her baby boy now ushered into the house of God.

I can only taste Hannah's struggle now as I pray over my boy and realize the desperate need I have to release him.  Release and surrender, once again.

Like Hannah, I asked for him.  My sweet boy.

I pleaded with the Lord.  Praying over my womb, I asked God to give me a warrior.  Within weeks of becoming pregnant, I knew he was a boy... and I knew his name.  He would be called, "Asked of God".  He was a direct answer to my prayers of God's warrior.

Early in my life young teen life, because of my health issues, I was told that it was unlikely I would ever bear a child.  But, God knew better.  God gave me two precious ones.  I asked for them both... my two sweet miracle-gift babies.

Like Hannah, I asked for them.  And, God chose to answer with a massive and beautiful, "Yes!"

...but, also, like Hannah, I know they belong to Him.  They are His.  His creation.  His kids.  His delight.

All along I have known they were gifted to me.  A stewardship offered. They were precious possessions on loan to me, their mother.  They have always been His, before the foundation of the earth (Jeremiah 1:5, Ephesians 1:4) ---His cherished ones, knit together in my womb.

And, I have indeed, time-and-time-again, surrendered them to His care.

But, somewhere deep within, these two sweet babes still tug so tightly to my womb; almost like they are still attached.  And, if I am honest, somewhere deeper within I hear an unhealthy, sinful cry:"mine!".

My babies.  My children.  Mine.

Mine to care for. Mine to guide.  Mine to fix and make perfect.

Oh! The sickness of possessing and holding too tightly.   The tug and the ripping is a painful one.

What must it have felt like for Hannah to go to the temple that day and hand her miracle-gift over to God? We are told in 1 Samuel 2, that she turns and walks away with praise on her lips, declaring God's power and glory and goodness.  She will declare His faithfulness and His goodness.  My heart finds courage in her worship song!

I taste the bitter and the sweet pain of release tonight as I hear the call of their Father, my Father.

They belong to Me, my love.  They are mine, my daughter.

My loving Father gently calls and reminds my heart that these two sweet miracles are His to care for.  His to guide.  His to fix and perfect.

I need to release.  I need to lay them down again.   Tonight I need to drop my boy off at His house, and let him live under His roof.

"I prayed for this child and the Lord granted me what I asked of him.  So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord." (I Samuel 1: 9-28)

I Left My Hearing Aids Behind

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My father-in-law came for a lovely visit.  The day he left, in the early morning fog and grog, he accidentally left his hearing aids at our house...

He flew home over the Atlantic ocean handicapped with minimized hearing ability.

What a huge bummer!  I can just imagine regularly having and relying on an aid... glasses, pain meds, crutches, braces, or hearing aids... and then suddenly being without them.  I think I would feel pretty vulnerable.

When we found them, we rushed to the post office and sent him the hearing devices...  Express Mail.  Two day delivery.  After a long conversation and much discussion with the post office staff, we were assured... indeed, he would have them soon.  Within days, they promised, the aids would arrive and he will have them in his possession again.

I need aids to help me hear, too.  I need help to spiritually hear, that is.  And, sometimes I leave "my aids" behind in the early morning fog.

Daily times in God's word, my journal, prayer cards, friends to share with, books I read and worship music are only a few of the "glasses, braces and crutches" I use daily to help me see, hear and walk rightly with my heavenly Father.  There are days, though, that I leave them behind.  Accidentally, of course.  I forget them or misplace them or simply overlook their importance.  I leave them until I feel vulnerable and have trouble hearing, of course!

Are you hearing Me, Stephanie?    Are these the words the Spirit has been whispering into my soul this past week?  I am not sure... I am wondering as I type today.

The hearing aids that my father-in-law left at my house didn't make it to him on time.  In fact the parcel was stuck, for no apparent reason, in our country.  They sat, neatly wrapped---carefully protected---in someone's outbox in the middle of the UK.  Days and days left behind.  No worker with the post office could tell me why.

They got left behind again!

Then, they got stuck in the US customs bureaucracy--- a red-tape nightmare of paperwork and misunderstanding!  All the while, my father was handicapped in his ability to hear.  Days and days were passing.  Every day more vulnerability, more frustration.  I was frustrated.  VERY frustrated.  No, actually, I was down-right angry.

When I got the news they were still in the UK, thoughts sped in and out of my mind... and spilled out of my mouth.  'I spent X amount of pounds to send this package!'  'They promised me they would get there!'  'This just isn't right?!'

Are you hearing Me, Stephanie?  

Angered with ridiculous paper work, I was thrown into a tailspin of irritability and defensiveness.  I don't need this right now, I thought.

Stephanie, listen for a minute, ...be still.  Are you hearing Me?  

Literally, the night before the 'hearing-aid-parcel-fiasco' begain, I had copied two quotes into my journal,

"You must utterly believe that the circumstances of your life, that is, every minute of your life- have come to you by His will and by His permission and is exactly what you need" ~Jeanne Guyon  

"One who makes it a rule to be content in every part and accident of life because it comes from God, praises God more than one dedicated an hour of singing psalms."~William Law

Yeah...  uh. huh.  Got it.  Yep.

The words did make me stop at the time I read them.  I pondered.  I prayed.   I read these words, thought on them a bit, ... and THEN walked on, leaving them to rest on the table and quietly tucked in the book. Yep, I left my hearing aids behind!

The very next day, the parcel bureaucracy began... and I was utterly frustrated.

Are you hearing Me, my love?

I sat down to pray with some friends (good friends are great hearing aids!)  As we prayed I started to hear a bit more clearly... to see things as if with better light.

"Utterly believe"...  Guyon had written.  Oh Father, You are speaking to me again of faith and trust.  Surrender and rest in You...  

"Every minute" "every part and accident of life" "by His permission" "Exactly what you need..."  Are you listening, Stephanie? 

Dear Lord, again, today I think you are reminding me that I can remain in You.  I can relax in Your love.  Even in this "accident", I can trust.  I can see and trust Your hand on all things.  I can trust You as my loving, powerful Father...

I found my hearing aids this morning and put them in, turned them up!  Unapologetically, I am picking up my 'crutches' and walking with help.  Indeed, I walk with a limp and need those crutches!  I am turning on that worship music at full volume today.  I need the aids of friends, God's word, worship music, thankfulness lists, and good books to read.  I don't want to leave them behind.

I want to hear you more clearly.  Today, I will listen, Father.  Teach me, I pray.  

Get out of the car!

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It is truly amazing what a bit of time, a bit of space and whole lot of quiet will open up in the soul.

Why is it so natural for me to feel like a "bother", Lord?  What is this?  

This is where our conversation started.  Quiet and space---a special set aside time away with the Lord--- allowed for me to dive deeper, sit longer and listen.

I feel like I am always bothering people...  with my issues, my needs, my emails, my phone calls, my sharing, or my posts.  I know this is a feeling---not a reality---but, it is a strong feeling, Lord.  Why do I have this?  Where did this all begin, Holy Spirit?  Please show me...  

This isn't the first time I have questioned the Lord regarding my soul and my painful places...  I have learned this wonderful technique of listening prayer from a dear friend and mentor.  "Wholeness prayer" is what she calls it.  Simply put, God guides, answers and leads us forward to wholeness through prayer: a simple conversation.  And, I have seen such amazing victory in my life and the lives of many others using this type of prayer.

I often ask the Lord these kinds of questions about many areas of my life.  Why am I so worried about my health---so afraid of loss---so angry about this event---so drawn to this sin, Lord?  Where did it start?  Show me Your truth, Your Light, I ask.  Please show me You, God!  

Do you see a stuck place in your life?  ...ask the Lord about it.
Why am I stuck with this same response, Lord?  Why is this so hard for me?  And then listen.  Sit and listen.

What do you see in your mind's eye, what might His Spirit whisper into your heart, what Scripture comes to mind, or what memory floods?

Tell Him what you are seeing, sensing, feeling as you listen... converse with Him.  He is a real Person---a very real Counselor that knows you inside and out.

When did I begin to feel like a "bother"? Where did this start, Lord?  Or, when did I begin to feel this way?  

As I sat and listened, after some time, I remembered an event from my teen years.  I had visited a trusted mentor with a problem.  I had walked into their office and began to share, ...to cry, ...to vent.  During the time and even as I remembered this memory (these 23 years later), it became very clear that this person was agitated, annoyed and distinctly bothered by my sharing.  I don't know that they said so directly, with words... in fact, I am sure they probably didn't.  But, their frustration with my pain was clear and loud.   They were bothered by me, by my tears and by my sharing.  I was clearly "in the way".  A bother.

As I sat and thought over the memory, asking the Lord, "Show me your truth, Lord Jesus"  The memory continued.  I remember getting up from my seat, exiting the office quickly and getting into my car to drive away.  This isn't my imagination---this is a memory.  At the time, I remember thinking, very distinctly, as I buckled my seat belt, "Just shut up, Stephanie!"  Click.  Buckled in.  "I won't ever share like that again!", I vowed in my heart.

Hmmm....

I believe this is what the Lord wanted me to see...

As I sat with this image and the shame of the moment---deep shame, visceral shame flooded me at that time and even flooded me afresh as I remembered how embarrassed I was with my "behavior" (how dare I share my heart so vulnerably and smack dab in the middle of the day!)--- I asked the Spirit of Christ again, "Please Lord show me Your Truth, Your light.  What are Your thoughts."  

Even as I asked, I had a clear answer...  Get out of the car.  Unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car! 

Get out of the car?  was my response to this thought.  Really?  Is this from You, Lord?  

It isn't what I was expecting, to be sure.  I was expecting something akin to, "You are my beloved daughter. I am always listening to you.  Or, I see you."  But, nope.  Get out of the car, Stephanie.

It took nearly 20 minutes and many, many times re-asking the Lord what His thoughts were...

Until I finally, in my mind's eye-now (not a memory), finally... with prayerful imagination, I unbuckled my seat belt and stepped out of the car.

In that moment, deep relief flooded my heart!  One moment of obedience and submission of spirit--courage to prayerfully "step out of the car" and bam!---peace.  Deep peace flooded.    It is hard to describe.

He knew that that moment in time---20 years ago-- I had made a choice of will to listen to the lies of the enemy!  The enemy of my soul had told me to shut up and stop sharing.  And, I chose to buckle myself into the lie.  Click.  Buckled down and silenced.

Yesterday, it was a response of my will, my spirit and my trust to unbuckle that lie...  and silence the Liar and Destroyer.  It was sweet release.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself... Stephanie, 17 years of age.... standing on the outside of the car.  Breathing fresh air!  Free. Free to be me.  To share and to keep "pestering" with my vulnerability and my weakness.  Free to cry.  And, free to play.  Free from the thoughts of that mentor, free from what they believed about me.

Free.

I am sure that I will still struggle with feeling I am a "bother" from time to time.  There are deeper places for the Lord and I to dive-into... in His time.  But, I will have this special moment of Light and Truth to take into the battle for freedom.

This freedom is only one amazing benefit from a bit of space, a bit of time and whole lot of quiet.

Hiking boots...humility...and a friend

Most days when I go for my morning walk in the fields, I am so very glad I have worn my hiking boots.  Returning home, they are caked in mud and have repelled what-seems gallons of water.  I am so grateful that I have a good pair of boots.  I need them here where I live, to be sure.  I am dependent on them for comfort and stability.

Dependence.

He visited our church last Sunday.  Following up on his experience, he responded, "I wouldn't go back.  I don't like how much they all depend on God."

He didn't like the dependence he saw.  It was off-putting and not attractive to him.

He isn't wrong.  His assessment is correct; even if, to my mind, his response is sad.  Christians are, by definition, "dependent" on God.

It is all about dependence.  It is all about surrender.  And, reliance.  And, a laying-it-down.

But, unlike this friend, my heart hears these words and with them comes an a feeling of invitation.  An invitation to forgiveness, to mercy, to rest, to freedom and to love.

I would argue that we are always dependent---whether we like to admit it or not.  It isn't really a choice to be dependent or not.  Am I alone in, simply, dependence on a morning coffee to keep away a headache?

We are, by nature, dependent beings.  We need things...food, water, air, ---just to start.  We depend on the laws of nature and we depend on our friends, our spouses and our parents.  We depend on boots to cover our feet in the muddy fields.

Dependence on God.  What do those word sound like to your ears?  Do they sound  like a "crutch" or a brace you don't like and don't want to hinder, squash or hold-you-back.  Or, does it sound like a good, sturdy, comfy pair of hiking boots---necessary, wise, and wonderfully freeing while walking this life's journey?

For me, I suppose, I am learning that dependence and submission---humility, really---are like these robust hiking boots.  Humility-boots that make the journey steady and straight; boots that allow for a variety of terrain and weather.

When describing the life Jesus lived on earth, Andrew Murray suggests that one main characteristic of Christ's life was exactly this:  dependence.  (Humility by Andrew Murray)

"By myself, I can do nothing.  I seek not to please myself but him who sent me." (John 5:30)

Murray simplifies true humility as being the "consent of the creature to let God be all, the surrender of itself to His working alone."

Jesus shows us this in His life on earth.  "He teaches us where true humility begins and finds its strength--in the knowledge that it is God who works all in all, that or place is to yield to Him in perfect resignation and dependence, in full consent to be and do nothing of ourselves."

"This life of entire self-abnegation, of absolute submission and dependence upon the Father's will, Christ found to be the source of perfect peace and joy."  ~Andrew Murray

Perfect peace and joy sound like comfort and strength to me.  What an invitation!  I suppose, in part, it is because I know the kind Father that issues this invitation to me.  I have met this Jesus, who shows us these things and says "come to me and I will give you rest for your souls!"

Although I can make my educated guesses, I don't truly understand why this is so off-putting to my friend.

But, what I do know is that I am so glad I have my hiking boots to put on when I go for my walk tomorrow! Unfortunately, I don't always choose to put them on---and then I come back with soaked, cold feet.  I do have a choice each day.

But, the fact is, I can always choose them---and it is a good, wise thing when I do.

The beauty of resting...

Her voice rang with simple joy as we talked, "Stephanie, I go to sleep each night so excited to sleep and so grateful for my warm, soft bed.  I wake up each morning so excited to start the day---what will He have for me today, I wonder each morning with joy!"

Sharing her heart and sharing this victory of perspective, she spoke these words over the long distance phone line.  Her words brought more than a smile to my mouth---they brought a smile to my soul.  Can a soul smile?  Mine did.

Happy to fall asleep.  Happy to wake up.  This!  This is joy.  This is contentment!

My friend---this mother, this wife, this daughter--- spoke words of deep contentment.  It isn't a place she was, naturally is---or has always been---no, this is a place she has come to.  Contentment is who she is becoming.  My friend was once a woman who might fall asleep exhausted, worried, or disappointed with all that didn't get done that day.  And, she was a child of God who woke tired, sometimes feeling unready for her day, overwhelmed by all that needed to get done.

Her Father in Heaven has brought her here.  She arrived to this sweet rest and contentment walking on the road of Love--- journeying with and in God's love for her.

I had just been thinking about contentment earlier in the morning.  Reading in Hebrews 13, I was struck with the command of God to "be content with what you have".  But more than just a commandment, what struck me was the why and how answers that are found right along side the statement from our Father.  "Be content with what you have... because God has said 'Never will I leave you and never will I forsake you!' Say to yourself, the Lord is my helper;  I will not be afraid!"  (Hebrews 13:5,6).

This contentment we are commanded is found in, and only in, a trusting of God's loving Presence and His help.  It is a trust and resting in His love---a love that is forever and never leaves.

...His Presence that is always enough.  His faithfulness and steadfastness is why we... it is why I... can be content.

I can trust God enough to rest well at night.  Surrender and lay down the burdens.  Lay down the work, done and undone.  Release and let it all go.  With a thankful heart I can rest and sleep in His Presence.

And, I can trust God enough to wake to the day ready for His loving Presence to guide, strengthen, surround and sustain.  I can trust Him to give me just what I need and to never leave my side.  I can say of Him, my God is my helper!

I, too, can fall asleep this way--- and so can you.

Can't fix me

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I feel broken.  ...out of sync.  So frustrated by my own sin, I feel the weight of guilt and shame heavy on my heart.  True and healthy Holy Spirit conviction is long gone.  Forgiveness has been asked and received from my Jesus.  But, the heaviness remains.  The guilt hangs around and lingers.   My head still hangs low...

This strategy of my enemy and the wounds of my heart work together and leave me feeling discouraged, listless and worthless.  Pulling out of the shame and walking in freedom feels intensely difficult... as if, this is the "right" place for me to be.  This place of defeat is the "right" punishment for my sin.  I must pay, it feels.  I must do something... I must fix this!

And, certainly, the Lord is finally "done" with me.  Right?
These are the ebb and flow thoughts that swirl around my mind and soul today.

Why so downcast, O my soul?  Put your hope in the Lord!  

These words fill my journal page as I wonder about the state of my heart... and how to fix it.
How to fix it??  Really, Stephanie.  Did you hear that?  I am still trying to fix it!

So, I sit.  And, I read and I take in the words of a woman who walked this road nearly 150 years ago...
"To state it in brief, I would just say that man's part is to trust and God's part is to work..."

"Only God, who created us first, can re-create us, for He alone understands the work of His own hands.  All efforts after self-creating, result in the marring of the vessel."

"Settle down on this one thing, that the Lord is able to save you fully, now, in this life, from the power and dominion of sin, and to deliver you altogether out of the hands of your enemies."

"The most difficult burden we have to carry in life is self.  Our own daily living, our frames and feelings, our especial weaknesses and temptations, our peculiar temperaments, these are the things that perplex us and worry us...  you must hand yourself to the care of God, and leave [it] there.  He made you, and therefore He understands you and knows how to manage you, and you must trust Him to do it."

This wonderful lady, Hannah Whithall Smith, writes of a parent's love toward their child.  "He loves us, loves us, and the will of love is always blessing for the it's loved one".  I read these words last night as my daughter snuggled next to me with her own book.  She can't seem to get close enough to me.  In this warm, God-timed place, I read, "the baby toils not, neither does it spin; and yet he is fed and clothed, and loved, and rejoiced in...  This life of faith consists of just this:  being a child in the Father's house."

...being a child in the Father's house.  You are my well-loved daughter, Stephanie!    

When my daughter sins, I watch with deep joy when conviction comes and I rejoice when forgiveness is asked.  It is my joy to her her repentance and my bigger joy to forgive and offer mercy to her, my sweet girl.  But, what might I feel if she would roll around in the guilt and shame of her sin for days!

I read these simple thoughts about being a child in my Father's house and I can't help but reach up and caress her hair, my daughter, as she sits next to me.  What deep grief I would feel if she wouldn't, or couldn't, leave the sin done and forgiven!  What if she wallowed in it and punished herself and didn't believe my love!

Lord Jesus, I believe that Thou art able and willing to deliver me from all the care, and unrest and bondage of my life.  I believe that Thou did st die to set me free, not only in the future, but now and here.  And, Lord, I am going to trust Thee to keep me.  I have tried keeping myself, and have failed most grievously.  I am absolutely helpless, so now I will trust Thee.  I will give myself to Thee; I keep back no reserves.  I believe I am Thine.  I believe Thou dost accept that which I present to Thee; I believe that this poor, weak, foolish heart has been taken possession of by Thee, and Thou hast even at this very moment begun to work in me to will and to do of Thy good pleasure.  I trust Thee utterly, and I trust Thee now!  ~Hannah Whithall Smith

It is man's job to trust and God's job to work.

Open Handed Trust

photo source:  copyright Bob Emblem

An open hand communicates and implies trust.  Open hands suggest release, waiting, and anticipating.

It is the opposite of a clinched fist---a "stands with a fist" stance.

And, for me, it seems to often come back to trust.  Trust, again?  Time and time again, this seems to be the theme.  My theme.

Do you trust me now?  God Spirit sweetly whispers into my heart when I find myself in a tight spot.

Do you trust me with this?  or with that?  Do you trust me with him?  or with her?  He invites me to open my hands to Him, His love, His control, His goodness, His work.  He invites me to surrender.

He invites me to release those I love.  He invites me to love-deeply, yes, and to pray fervently, absolutely!  But, He wants me to lay them down and walk away.  He invites me to intercession which asks a Father for help and then ....trusts the fact that He indeed listened to my request.  He heard my heart.  He will do what is best.

To this place of rest, this childlike trust, is where He invites me again today.

My default mode, as I have shared many times, is to control or fix.  I want to make it right and manipulate. I want to be the author and the perfecter.  

There is a fight within me; a deep, seated fight that seems to speak old lies to my mind and heart... saying, 'if I do release or let-go, it won't get done or it will get out-of-control'.  Inside, I fear that if I release things, or situations or people then they will be left "unfixed!" and "imperfect".  As if...  As if!  it is my job to complete the work in them!  ...this "savior mentality" is not only ungodly, but very unhealthy and certainly unhelpful in building trust in my relationships.

Trust me, Stephanie.  Lay it down and trust me.  I am the Beginning and the End.  I own the cattle on one thousand hills.  I hand-placed the foundation of the earth.  I am the Author and the Perfecter of Your faith... of their faith.  Do you trust me now?  

This is the sweet invitation.  So, I release again today.  ...yes, again!

I say and confess, I open my hands, kind Father!  I let go.  I trust You Lord--- Maker of Heaven and Earth.  You own the seas and all that is in them.  You will make all things beautiful in Your time.  


It is amazing what freedom that is found in trust.  It is remarkable the beauty that can be found in simply opening your hand.

photo source

Stands with a Fist

I just know that I am right.  I am right and you are wrong...

Sometimes when my husband and I have an argument, there is a deep feeling that rises within that says "I will not be put down!"

I am right.  You are wrong.  Period.  ...End of discussion.

And, I stand with a fist!

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Last night, I felt this rising within.  I felt the tiger-Stephanie raring it's head and I stood in a defensive stance.  You are wrong!  ... Without the actual words, this is the sense... this is the feeling... that rose up in my heart toward my husband.  

In the midst of the argument (which wasn't going very well at all--- I might add), I had to excuse myself for a visit to the bathroom.  What a blessing this "nature's" interruption brought!

Being away from the argument for even a moment, brought an opening.  ...a tender call of the Spirit.

What was He saying? I am not even sure.  I was too angry to hear His voice!  But, He was calling, inviting, reminding...  

And, I bowed my head and answered with a cry for help, "Help us, Lord.  Help me, Lord".  

When I stand with my fist poised in defense or offense, I am never ready to hear.  But, Father God interrupted my stance and whispered His invitation for more---  I offer you peace and love.  I offer you long-suffering and patience.  I offer you mercy.  Grace.  

Ah!  There is the word.  Grace.  

Does Grace ever stand with fist?  

I knew in that moment that I was returning to the discussion with my hand down.  I knew I was ready to admit my hardness, my wrong.  I knew, most importantly, that I needed Jesus desperately in that moment.  I wasn't right!  Only He is good and just and righteous.  

This morning, I was listening to a song by Aaron Shust .   "I have learned to live to lose", he sings.    Living to lose.  What a concept!  

We come out of the womb primed and ready to win.  I toddled my way through the world knowing that I was right and that I deserved first dibs on that toy!  And, I am taught and I teach myself to win.  What might it mean to live a life ready to die.  To live every disagreement ready to bow my head and lose.  

To live to lose...  is this real, genuine humility?  It rings bells of "turning the other cheek" and "I count all as rubbish that I might gain Christ and ...be like Him in His death".    

False or feigned humility, false submission, "being a doormat" and victimization are not what Christ is offering here; because, certainly, I can submit on the outside and pridefully, forcefully, deeply, stand-up-on-the-inside at the very same time!  I can stand with a fist and you don't even know it!  

I believe He is offering me a life of grace.  I believe He is offering me a life of love and peace...  He is offering me a trust in Him that allows me to put my fist down.  

I don't know.  But, what I do "get" today... is that I am most definitely not always right!

Shocking, I know. (smile)

Tired Questions

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It is hard when I get tired.

When I am tired, I am just not my best.  Who is?  I suppose this is true about anyone..

As tiredness creeps up, it feels like the temptations of old strategies, coping patterns and sin tendencies are crouching at the door of my heart... a tiger ready to pounce.  And, I just want to sleep and let 'em pounce away!

I have written of these tired temptations before...  I feel them again tonight.

All my life I have been learning how to cope with tiredness.  We all have, I guess.  You, too.

For so many years, so many pattern-making years, I have run to a variety of things to find my rest.   Some of these patterns have been nearly harmless. Many of these places and patterns have been destructive.  Or, in the least, these strategies have not been helpful or uplifting.

I have run many places... In recent years I have learned to run to God.  But, for so much time, Father's love has just been one place among the many.  ...and not usually the first-chosen place, to be sure.

I guess the questions I am asking tonight is...  why have I come here again?  What could I have done different to avoid such tiredness?

This tiredness I feel in my body tonight, this physical exhaustion... is this a must?  Did I have to get here?  I know there are choices I have made today.  There are choices I made yesterday, in fact, that have affected today!  There are choices I continue to make that push my body, my emotions and my mind beyond my God-given capacity.

Physical tiredness is an inevitable reality of this tentliving-life we live on earth, I know.  Jesus, my Savior-Brother, fell down tired after a long journey into Samaria (John 4).   He certainly knew exhaustion.  ...and was revived by "food" the disciples knew nothing about.

This is the food I need, Jesus!
   
Another questions I feel welling up is... and now what?  Where do I go from here?  When I am tired, where will I run?  That tiger that sits in the dark corner, those temptations, will I turn to them and invite them to pounce?  Or will I claim the freedom I have in Christ to say "no!" to them.

I can tell that crouching tiger--- my sin, my coping strategies--- to "sit" and "stay" in Jesus name, just like I can tell my dog to sit and stay.  (A big difference being that the sin-beast must submit to the Name of Jesus... and my dog doesn't always obey! smile).

Why am I here again?  What can I do next time to avoid this exhaustion?

What will I do now?  Where will I go to get the deep, soul-quenching, body renewing rest that I actually need?

...just lay down, Stephanie, and trust ---and rest in Him.  
Find rest, O my soul, in God alone!  (Psalm 62:5)

But, indeed, it is hard when I get tired.

Something Heavenly

Do you ever look at the news, or hear the voice on the phone, or watch someone's behavior, or read the email and just wonder if He really is hearing your prayers?  Is He really at work?!

Yesterday, I walked and prayed.  ...and a niggling doubt lingered.  Does this really matter?  Do you hear me, Lord?

I do wonder sometimes.  Is He working in this world?  Inside of me...  In others...

Sometimes I wonder and sometimes I forget.  But, today, He has reminded me again!  Yes, Stephanie, I am at work!  

He is at work... And, I am reminded that whatever God does is big!  ...and good.  ..and important.  From the small minute details of life to the partings of those Red Seas... whatever He does is Divine and Big.

In your life and in mine.

So, I shoo away that niggiling thought and say, I trust You Lord.  Today.   Because my Father is always at work and whatever He does is big!

My job is to "Trust the Lord and do good" (Psalm 37)  My job is to respond and rest in His love and His plans.  My job is to surrender and open my hands.  It is my job to "give in" and allow His work.  It is my job to look, listen and ask.  It is my job to do what He wants and to work with Him and for Him, in this world...  in others...  INSIDE of me!

Friends, we are just this side of heaven.  And, something is happening in you and in our world that is larger than life... something heavenly, something Divine!  

It is better...

So, I went to a funeral today.

I didn't know the man myself, but went to support and show love to a friend. And, I am so glad I did.

There is something so true about Solomon's advice in Ecclesiastes 7:2: "It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart."

Not to be morbid, but it does a heart good to contemplate death. Truly, it does a soul good to remember the fragility of life here on earth.

I took it to heart today.

The preacher reminded us all that we each and every one have at least two things in common: 1). We never really expect to die, or expect the death of those we love. and, 2). We all die.

We all die.

All death... even those you know are on the edge... all death is a bit of a shock. All death surprises us. All death doesn't feel right. It is never the right time. You never have "enough" time with someone that you love. Not really.

I was reminded today that life here on earth, this body... this earth... is just a whisper.

David in Psalm 39 says, "You have made my days a mere hand-breadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath. Selah" A breath. That's all.

As I type this, I stop to take a breath. In and out I breathe... each breath so short.

David end's this statement of truth with "Selah". Selah can mean "to pause, to think about. To measure... to wait. To praise".

You have made my days a mere hand-breadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life is but a breath. Selah

Selah... I can say to my Father, my Maker.

My life is short. My days are numbered. My years are few. Life here on earth is only a breath. ...only a whisper. Selah, Father. I pause. I sit and wait in this thought.

I pause. I am silent with the thought.

I worship.

...so thankful that I had the privilege to attend a funeral today.

Lay it down

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I was feeling out-of-sorts.  Heavy.  I was feeling raw and bugged. What is it, Lord? I whispered in that quiet moment of reflection. Why is my heart like this? What is going on, Lord? You know my heart better than I do... speak and show me, Lord?

A verse came to mind, ...but it felt personalized, ...and it stung. "You want to be the Author and Perfecter of your faith. You want to bring all things to completion". This is what I heard. This was the answer to my question of my Lord.

Ouch. Is that true, Father?

I didn't need His answer. I knew it was true.

I would like to be done. I would like to be perfect, yesterday! Finished. Complete. Holy. And, I am not. (Shocking, I know! smile) And, as I see it, I won't be anytime in the near future!

I know this may sound silly to some. This may seem like a no-brainer thought. This concept is a "duh!" for so many. But, for me it is a struggle. And, when I see my imperfection or weakness I feel angst. I can rock around in guilt or condemnation. I can make plans. Or rules. Or "self-help" strategies to help "bring it to completion". Or, I can put on a mask to cover the weakness and show forth "strength"or perfection. All these are strategies of my old nature--- my natural Stephanie-self. "Old man-strategies" as my friend calls it.

What I am realizing again today is that I need more surrender. Dependence. Release. I need to repent and receive. I need to sit down and surrender. I need to live in and by His Spirit... my new nature. I need, by His grace, to release all control and manipulation. And, I need to trust. I must plead with Father to fill me with His Spirit. He must teach me to lean into Him, trust His love, watch and wait for His work, and respond to His movements in my life.

Not an easy "to do" list, right? And, thus the problem!

I can't do it. Only He is the Author and Perfecter of my faith. Only He is the one who will bring me to completion and make all things new, and good. Him.

Essentially, I need Him. I need more of Him. Less of me and more of Him.

I wrote in my journal, "lay down you". And, then added later after more prayer about this, "Lay down you, so that you can be more of the real you in Him."

Teach me, Father. Teach me to lean into You, Jesus. Fill me, Holy Spirit and lead me into more of You, more Truth.

Our dependence upon God ought to be so entire and absolute that we should never think it necessary, in any kind of distress, to have recourse to human consolations.~Thomas Kempis

Lame oven... lame body

So a month ago my oven was pretty lame. Only two burners worked, and not very well. The oven was inconsistent, not hot enough and/or scorching any and all food I attempted to cook. You just never knew!? Or at least I didn't know... operator error is always a possibility.

My landlady graciously offered to buy me a new oven and I was thrilled. I waited in anticipation of this new oven!

I now have the new oven and I am grateful. The burners work wonderfully and it is beautiful and clean. But, of course, it isn't perfect. (shocking, I know! smile) This oven is smaller. My old oven was small. This oven is tiny. And, on Saturday I found out my oven dishes don't fit!

In a morning attempt to cook scones for breakfast, it became clear that all my oven pans and baking sheets don't fit. It was a moment that almost produced tears. Crazy, I know. Tears over an oven?? And tears over a beautiful, new oven, at that?!! But, ...my pans don't fit!? Frustration. ...even anger.

It is amazing what a very silly thing, like an oven and baking sheets, can show about the state of my heart. As I internally writhed and quaked over this desperate plight... this horrid oven... I knew at once that my emotional state (and outburst) had very little to do with the oven. And, yes, soo very little to do with the baking sheets.

You see, I am exceedingly frustrated these days with this "old" body of mine... this tent that God has given me to live in on earth. It really is very lame sometimes! Only a few "burners" work well and sometimes it is too hot and often not hot enough... okay, well maybe I am stretching the analogy too far. But you get the point. (smile)

My body is breaking down and I have suffered with this long term illness and pain too long... or so it feels. So it seems.

One would have thought I had long ago dealt with this emotionally. I have been dealing with this for over 25 years! But, I am learning that the Lord seems to have me on the same path over and over again.

Okay, He says, Now we re-visit My love. Now, we are back to re-visiting trust and surrender. Oh, it looks like it is time to re-walk the concept of grace.

And, okay, now it is time to re-visit suffering and pain.

Each time He and I journey down these familiar paths they are deeper, maybe even harder, and ...well, sweeter, too. So, again together we walk down the road of my personal pain. And, I process, lament, and learn.

I was reading in a beautifully tender book written by Amy Carmichael, Rose from Brier. From a place of pain, in the midst of pain and deep suffering, Amy writes about her journey. She talks about the need to surrender to the Lord. She writes about a place where one is able to say with a whole heart, "Dear Lord, yes."

When I read this, I was immediately annoyed by her advice. I was agitated. I still wanted to lament and writhe. I wasn't ready to say, "yes". Not yet.

But, sitting in my kitchen with my too-big baking sheets and my new lame oven, instantly I knew I needed to hold up my hands and say, with pain, "Dear Lord, yes". "yes"

Yes, dear friend Jesus, to an oven that won't fit my baking sheets.

Yes, dear Father, to an upbringing that was packed with pain and hurt.

Yes, dear All-knowing Father, to a body that is broken and suffering.

Yes, dear Lord. Yes.