How Did I Get Here?

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Off kilter and out of sorts.  I didn't wake up feeling this way.  A few hours into the day... that is where I was.  Out-of-wack.  Not at peace.  How did I get here?

Curiosity, is what Brene Brown suggests:  just remain curious about what you are feeling and experiencing.  Look at it and ask "why"?  

Awareness and awakeness are the words I have been using for the last few years.  Lord, make me more awake and aware.   Larry Crabb calls it the "red-dot-moment".  (That shopping mall map that tells you with a red-dot:  "You are here")

Where am I, Lord?  

I know that Scripture assures us of our inheritance in Christ.  We have been given a great gift because of His sacrifice.  A gift of the now and the "not-yet", to be sure: but, a gift to open today and enjoy.  He has given me a living inheritance:  He has given me His peace and His love to remain in and within which we can abide.   I have a home, a place to sit and I can rest.  A pathway to walk that is peace, joy, hope and security.  This is the inheritance that is mine.  And, yours.  Ours in Jesus:  our true home.  I can always live there.  It is 'on offer' to me always.  

I am struck by the deliverance of Israel in Exodus 14 and then the song sung to God in Exodus 15--- God's heart for His people:  His good plan---  unfailing love and strength can be our dwelling, His holiness. (Exodus 15:13)

"You will bring them in and plant them on the mountain of your inheritance—
the place, Lord, you made for your dwelling, the sanctuary, Lord, your hands established." Exodus 15:17

This plan was fulfilled in Christ Jesus.  Because of Him, we have a place to live.   You and I are planted; rooted and established in love.  I have a secure, paid-for-place to live every moment of every day--- an inheritance of peace and love.

But, I forget... I wander.  I stray away from my home.  I get up from this restful place and I step off the path of His love.  I get off kilter in the brush and bramble beside the road.   Like my brothers and sisters the Israelites of old, dark "pursuers" ride toward me; from within and without.   Horse and rider yell out at me or whisper from within "be afraid... be very afraid".  Lies.  All lies.  This also can happen any day.  Moment by moment.

When I remain curious, by His help, I am becoming more keenly aware of when I am off the path and out-of-step with His Spirit.  This morning was one of those moments.  Becoming aware is such a huge, beautiful key!

I became aware... hours after wandering... and simply stopped and asked the Lord for help.  Holy Spirit, help me.  I know where I am.  Now, how did I get here?  

I sat, prayed, quieted my heart and listened.  He brought to mind one small thing---then another--- It was one small flash-point in my morning.  A simple, quiet, niggling--certainly not earth shattering---reality in my body (my health) that triggered worry.  Ah!  more awakeness...  more awareness.   Thank you, Lord. This small moment had clearly brought up bigger, older fears.  Old patterns of coping--- worry, wondering what-might-happen-if, calculating.   It had started with the one instance... then next a piece of news in email (now further off the path!) and then the memory.  Ah!  Like a quiet cascade... the journey to wander at that point was in full swing.

Okay, I had wandered off the path.  Now, I knew when I left my home of peace.

Thank you, Lord.  Now, would You bring me back.  Bring me back inside, Lord.

He says... Open Your hands and surrender to My love and speak Truth to Your soul!

I choose to surrender to Your unfailing love.  I accept "what is" and choose to stop thinking about "what might be".  I offer my body to You--- You are my good Shepherd, my kind Father...  my Creator.  You made my body---so I give it to You to care for!  I am yours.  I don't have to worry.  I don't ever have to fear. You have a place of love for me to rest in---to live in.  I resist the lies in the name of Jesus.  I stand firm, by Your blood, against the worry and fear.  Even when I am in pain... even when my body is wacky... Your Love, Truth and Light are secure.  I receive it!  I let go of fixing this, figuring it out, or worrying about it.  I open my hands and receive Your love and this place of peace.  I choose to sit down in it and rest.  

I sat down in peace and walked on.  My body's reality hasn't changed, the news on email was still hard--- but where I am walking is different.  Stand firm, be still, AND move on (walk forward)--- this is what God tells His people in Exodus (Ex 14:13-18).  What a paradox!  Stand firm.  Walk onward. Trust and obey.

Out of the brambles.... back on the road.  A few hours away---  I now welcome and delight in the gift of peace.  For now, by His grace, I abide in His love.  Lord, make me more awake and aware!  More of You Jesus in me.  

"I will sing to the Lord, for He has triumphed gloriously.  The horse and his rider have been hurled into the sea.  The Lord is my strength and my deliverer.  He is my salvation.  ...The Lord is a warrior"  (Exodus 15)

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...

A New Place to Live

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Egypt.  A place where God's people were enslaved.  It was also a place they lived and worked.  They had families, settled in homes, cooked, ate, drank and married... 400 years of "normal".  This was their home; but, they were not free.  God hears the pain of this reality---their slavery--- and He makes a way for them to leave.  He gives them their freedom.

For a few days, I have been feeling out of sorts.  ...not free.  ...not at peace.  In reading Exodus 13 this morning, I had the thought---and a prayer rise up: what is the Egypt you delivered me from?  

I, too, lived in Egypt long ago...  working, living, settled down... but not free.  And, through Jesus, God has delivered me out. What did my "Egypt" look like?  What is the Egypt You delivered me from, Lord?

my egypt was ...love starved.  ...a dry and desert place.  ...lacking  ...a place where I lacked the deep knowledge of His unconditional love, so I ran about looking and longing for it.
my egypt was ...lonely  ...sad  ...driven and productive  ...a place where I was "hustling for my worthiness" (as Brene' Brown talks about in Daring Greatly.)  ...hustling for love, for okay-ness,  ...hustling for peace.
my egypt was a place where I had to earn my okay-ness and it was dependent on what others thought of me  ...it was a place where I felt I must be perfect to be loved.   ..it was a confused place  ...a nervous place.  ...a place I had to be ever calculating and fixing.

As I processed and prayed through this passage, I was struck by God's heart for His people.  He has such great compassion, understanding and wisdom.  He makes a way for the Israelite people to leave Egypt---yes; and, yet, because He also knows them so well, He makes the way longer and more arduous. He knows if the way is shortened, they would be tempted to go back.   With a wise and loving heart, God 'burns the bridges' that lead back to lead them back to Egypt.  He takes away their options.  He makes retreat impossible.

"When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter. For God said, “If they face war, they might change their minds and return to Egypt.” So God led the people around by the desert road toward the Red Sea." (Exodus 13:17-18)

He delivered me, too, from "my egypt".   And...He also knows my heart so well!  He knows that I might change my mind and run back...  just like my brothers and sisters, the Israelites.   Indeed, I do feel the temptation to live in that egypt from time-to-time, to be sure!  We are so prone to run back to what feels normal or comfortable---even if it is slavery.

These last few days, I think maybe I have been living in the memory--- or in the shadow of my egypt, Lord.  

God reminds me that He burned that bridge for me with Christ's "it is finished" sacrifice.  He says "the old is gone and the new has come!"  (2 Corinthians 2:15)

As they are leaving Egypt, God reminds them... yet again... to take no yeast from Egypt.   He reminds me, again, this morning that I need to be aware of the "yeast" I used and lived with, in my old"egypt" land.  These are old things... things to be seen, noted, and discarded.  It is where I once lived.  But, not where I live today.  Or, at least, not where I must live today.  Instead He has delivered me into a new place...   a place of freedom.

So, I ask Him now.  What is the promised-land to which I have been delivered, Lord?  

My promised land is ...rich in love. ...a place where I can know and walk in the deep knowledge of His unconditional love.  I don't have to run anywhere or do anything to find it.
My promised land is  ...full  ...connected ....relational ...a place where I don't have to earn my worth---it has been earned for me!  ...a place where I have been given, as a gift, peace and joy and fullness.  I have enough.  I am enough in Him.
My promised land is a place where His Presence is always with me.  ...grace and mercy are in abundance  ...I am strong and okay and firmly planted on Him.

I want to live in this reality today, Lord.  I want to live with You in this land... my promised land: Your love.  

"As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you.  Now, remain in my love." (John 15:9)    Live in my love

Stack of Friends

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I have started to refer to them as "my friends".  A little weird?  Maybe.  

Some evenings, my family giggles and tells me to "go have some time with your friends"... and I sit in my chair and pick up 'a friend'.  

These friends sit there stacked on my table... bought with love and care with saved, special birthday money or Christmas gifts---  my books.  My stack of "friends".  

I am realizing more and more what a relief I feel when I read.  ...and, in particular, when I read books that challenge me; books that are truly 'beyond me'.  I like a book that is just a bit difficult for me to understand.  It strangely relaxes my mind and moves me to think in ways that are refreshing.  Funny? Maybe.  I don't know.  

I have noted this phenomenon to other people and some look at me, smile in a way that communicates---"yep, I totally get you."  Others have different friends... the piano, the paint brush, the computer, their tvs, cds, or their hiking boots.  

Don't get me wrong.  I love LOVE real, human friends more.  There is profoundly more relief in my soul and more fulfillment when I sit with a human friend and talk about life, love, you, me, and God. These are the friends I treasure most, to be sure!  

But, I can't lie... I do like a good, long "conversation" with an author...  Okay... enough of that.  

One friend I am 'talking with' right now is a book entitled, Anatomy of the Soul, by Curt Thompson. And, I am loving our conversation!  This book is a life-giving, hope infusing look at the brain and our minds.  Curt Thompson writes about our redeeming God, who has set-up our brains for redemption and renewal. With salvation and the indwelling Holy Spirit, we really are given the mind of Christ and can be renewed day-by-day.   Did you know that your very brain has been wired in such a way that those habits you hate in yourself, those responses you don't understand and are frustrated with, ...even those memories you loath... they all can be renewed and redeemed---made beautiful for His Kingdom?  I stand amazed at Dr. Thompson's way of integrating Scripture, science and psychology in a hope-filled way.  

If you know me well, you will know that I have always said, "I don't have many memories from my childhood".  This is what my husband has heard for over 20 years.  And, in one very real way, it is true.  I can't articulate the facts of my childhood very well at all.  ..where I schooled.  ...what house or where I lived.  ...the teacher's name ...or the specific 10th birthday party.  I don't seem to have much access to these facts at this point.  These feel like 'lost years'.  

Until...  until my friend Dr. Curt Thompson suggested I sit and try to remember in a different way.  He suggests in one of his exercises...   

"Start by thinking of your earliest memories.  Record it and continue to write as much as you can from the first decade of life.  Do not become overwhelmed by trying to write about later events or keeping strict chronological order.  Simply record what comes to mind---paying close attention to sensations, feelings, images, colors, and the like—not just facts." (excerpt from his autobiography exercise) 

So, I decided to start this process last week.  I set aside some moments of quiet and solitude.  I only began with age 0-6...  really believing there was nothing much there.  I was astonished when I sat and thought of these year; looking specifically for sensations, feelings, images and color.  OH! my!  all sorts of "memories" came to mind.  I filled a few journal pages.  Dr. Thompson suggests that our brains hold memories in a myriad of ways--- smell, sights, sounds, etc.  And, most of these memories are not necessarily transferred to the chronological, facts, part of our brains.  Don't worry about the facts, he writes.  

As I sat and remembered, I saw many things.  White and green.  Yellow.  Cold snow and scary tall trees.  I remembered many things.  Mostly happy.  Which, if I am honest, surprised me!  I saw beautiful, surprisingly happy memories of green fields, swimming pools, a swing set and white! (the vanilla ice cream acquired in magical-never-ending-supply from a little white hut at the club my grandparents belonged to).   I saw snow and snow ice cream.  I saw a yellow bedroom and a friendly neighbor.  I remembered a long, tree covered, cool walk to the school bus.  There were also sensations I remembered as I sat quietly... gleeful, magical, happy and profoundly sad.   Multi-colored.  Multi-sensory.  

I am remembering.  And, I stand amazed.  Thanks, Curt.  ...my husband and children are loving hearing these, too. Which is good fun!   

Believe me, if I am honest, this journey hasn't and won't be all fun and games.  I know.  I truly feel a bit of trepidation and am hesitant about the idea of sitting to remembering the next decade--- those hard, sad years, the 'trauma' years that have 'defined' me for most of my life.  But, for some time now, I have been intrigued by the idea of multi-colored memories (thanks, Disney's 2015 "Inside Out" for this beautiful image!).  For years (even before Disney), I have been praying and on a hopeful search for the happy in the midst of the sad.  ...believing there must be both.  If both live in our mundane every day---why wouldn't it not be true of my age 10?  Curt Thompson agrees with me, I think, and is showing me a way forward in the search.

I am grateful for this new 'friend' from my stack---who is teaching me a bit about my brain and my God.   ...another step in knowing and being known.

Because He lives...

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In church this morning we were asked to fill-in this statement: Because He lives, I can...  

I have been thinking a lot about the word freedom lately.  Generally speaking, I am, by nature a bound person.  I can be bound-up in "shoulds" or in what other's think.  I can be bound-up by the judging voice in my own head, criticizing and reprimanding me.  I can be bound up in the dual shameful feelings of being "too much" or "not enough".

Bound and not free.  Bound by worry about the future.  What if it gets worse..  Will I be able to handle it?  ...what will I say?  Bound by regret from the past--- what I did, what I should have said, or didn't say.  What I could have done or shouldn't have attempted.  We are bound in compulsions, comparison, anger or unforgiveness.  Bound-up in insecurity, in judgment, and in discord.  We are, by nature, a bound people. We bind each other and, most poignantly, we bind ourselves.   I bind myself.

I found myself bound in frustration this morning at church.  Annoyance and frustration: the small, niggling kind--- not the full-blown-loose-temper kind.  I was frustrated with someone and it was distracting me.

Stephanie, there is another way...  As I sat in worship and asked the Holy Spirit to fill me with His way,  I thought again about freedom.   It is for freedom that Christ has set you free.  I am free.  Because He lives I am free...  today.  Every single minute of every day.

What is binding me right now, Lord?  

Judgement.

But, Lord, what they are doing is wrong...  

Mercy triumphs over judgement.  (James 2:13)

These are the words that rang in my head and brought clarity to my clouded thinking.  Mercy. The antidote.  I don't have to judge.  I feel the need, yes.   The urge and the natural tendency, yep.   But, there is another way.  Judgement isn't my job.  ...So NOT my job!  Mercy is the cure for the disease of judgement.

Brene Brown, in her beautiful book Rising Strong, says that "love is the last thing we need to ration in this world".   I don't have to ration or limit how much love I show another person.  I simply can't love too much.  You have been forgiven much, can you love much here?

Can you give too much mercy today, Stephanie?

In the quietness of my heart, mercy was given.  Love offered.  Blessings genuinely prayed for the person I was frustrated with...  Rest was restored in my soul.  Mercy did triumph this morning! Because He lives.

Because He lives... I can be free to love and offer mercy.  Always.



--------this was my answer to the statement.  Here are a few other people's "fill-in" that made my heart smile:

Because He lives, I can....   Be happy.  Be myself.  I can forgive.  I can be forgiven.  I can make mistakes.  I can face tomorrow.  I can be the person He made me to be.  I can love.  I don't have to worry.  I never have to be afraid.  Forgive.  Worship.

Stuck on Yeast

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So, the Lord and I have been chatting about yeast the last few days.  I have just found myself stuck.  I can't quite get past it.  Is there something here for me, Lord...

In January I began a delightful ---very, very, slow---journey through the Old Testament.  I have been stuck in Exodus 12 for over a week now.  Is it coincidental that I am fastened to the Passover at this time of year?   I don't think so.

Through these days in Exodus 12, God and I have been conversing about all sorts of things...  the blood on the door, the "judgment of the Egyptian gods", the changing of the months/calendar...  I am asking and seeking and knocking. Lord, show me more of You.  I want to know You.  

I have been looking for His heart and His Truth.  ...looking and listening to know Him more with every sentence.

And, I got stuck.  ...on yeast.  What is up with the yeast, Lord?  I don't understand.  He tells the people over and over and over again (at least 5 times in one chapter) to get rid of the yeast in their homes for the Passover celebration.  To eat bread without yeast.  It is spoken of more frequently than the sacrificed lamb.  Clearly important.  Why, Lord?  Would you tell me more?

For days I have been walking through my day, musing when it comes to mind.  What is up with the yeast, Lord?  While blow drying my hair yesterday morning... will you tell me more about the yeast?  

This isn't the first time I have been 'stuck' in a passage during this new journey.  The Zipporah and foreskin passage had me stunned for some time,too.  (Exodus 4)  I felt Him give me a slight bit of clarity on that one... but, there have been others.  And, I don't assume God has to share all His secrets with me.  But, certainly, I can ask.  ...and, seek and read and wait.

So, I have been waiting...

I know that many people would say that yeast represents evil and the purging.  Purity is an issue here.  And, I think there is something important about this.  Obviously this is important to God.  But, I also had in the back of my mind the memory that Jesus says something about yeast...  and the Kingdom of God.  Certainly the Kingdom of God is not evil---or something that needs to be purged, right?  And, in Exodus, God tells them to get rid of it for only a short period of time.  Not forever.  So, certainly it isn't about the yeast---or that it is something utterly horrid (like getting rid of the adultery or the blasphemer).

Then, yesterday, I sat again with my journal... asking.  I felt a leading to look at what Jesus DID say.

Oh!  Okay, Lord, thanks.  Here we go!!  A clue.  Love it!  

Jesus does warn them a few times about the yeast of the Pharisees.  ...and the yeast of Herod.  ...and the yeast of the Sadducees.  Okay, Lord, so it isn't ONE particular type of yeast.
And He talks about how a 'little goes a long way'--- the kingdom of God is like yeast and a mustard seed.

Yeast impacts, yeast permeates.  It permeates.  

Then, as I continued through my day... and, the conversation continued.

A random thought in the kitchen...  Where did yeast first come from?  

Oh!  that is an easy search---google!  Thanks, Lord!  

Yeast was first noted to be used 5,000 years ago in Egypt.  They believed it was a miracle (not understanding the science behind fermentation).  Bingo!

I almost wanted to cry.  I was getting it now.  He was answering me.  Something inside me was shifting.  I think I get it a bit, Lord!

The Israelites had been living in Egypt for 400 years.  They had adopted so many things, to be sure, from Egyptian society and culture.  Yeast was only one small reality that had likely become "so normal" to their every day---so essential, so important.  Yeast and it's wonderful power had been taken into their lives from Egypt.  And, God says... get rid of it for a time.  Watch out and be on guard against the yeast of the Egyptians, Jesus might have said.

Do without it.  You don't need this 'miracle'.  I will provide for you.

 I wander through my day wondering... what "yeast", Lord, from this culture that I live in, has become "just normal" or expected.  What am I relying on?  What ways of thinking have permeated or impacted me?  What "benign" realities from this world am I resting in... what teachings, or thought systems do I need to "be on guard" against and look at.  .   ...or rid myself of for a time.

So, for today, my chat with God about yeast continues...

Grandma Asked... to know me.

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Grandma wrote yesterday to wish me a happy birthday... and in her card, she said it again, "Are you still writing, Stephanie?  I miss it."  Grandma has lived a long, happy and beautiful life.  She loves people and she loves God.  What she says matters to me.  She has said it before.

Why am I not writing anymore?

A little over two years ago, I just stopped.  Practically speaking, I developed an intense pain in my right shoulder.  I finally realized that my shoulder is negatively affected by typing.  In fact, I feel it's ache as I type these sentences.  So, this was one true reality.  One reason.

But, if I am honest, there was more...  I stopped for other reasons, too.  So many reasons.

...same 'ol lessons.  ...same song, second verse.  ...nothing new to say.  ...insecurity in my writing.  ...do we really need one-more-blog?  ...and, what do you think of me when you read?

But, bigger than any of these 'reasons' was the most poignant battle of them all:  a quiet, ugly, little, years-old, dark whisper which clamored in the back of my mind--- 'no one really wants to read or know.  what you say doesn't matter.  who cares anyway.  why would you write? you are not worth knowing'

This.

This dark whisper, sown into my heart as a child, reared up and I stopped writing.

Years ago, in an effort to be known and to open my mouth--- to speak louder than that old lie---, I began the journey of this blog.  But, was I more known here?  Not really.  Or maybe slightly more known... to a few people, I suppose.  But, I certainly didn't feel more known. Certainly my hunger for being known was not being fed by this blog.    

Something is shifting in me lately though.  I am learning.  Always.  He is teaching.  Always.  There is so much I am learning.  And, I feel the urge rising in my heart once again to speak and to write.  Maybe I feel the gumption to tell that old lie to "Shut-up!" and "Back off".

So, today I write here.

In truth, I have never stopped writing.  I can't help myself.  I write everyday.  Journals and journals filled with God's heart, my mess, His victories.  But, today, I write here.

I write because I heard Grandma Ginny ask again.  What love!  She wants to hear my voice here. She wants to read.  And, that means so much to me.  I love her and I want to be known by her.

Grandma, we were all made by God to be known.  To know Him and for Him to know us.  ...and, in turn, to know each other.  Thank you for wanting to know me and asking about my writing.
...maybe, I will begin again.

Look at Me!

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How often do we hear it when we are out and about?  At a public swimming pool, a park or the beach...  we hear the cry, "Look at me, Mommy!" or "Watch this!"

Look at me!  

Little children are always clamoring for their parent's attention.  They are blunt and forthright about this longing...  they cry out!  Watch me.  Do you see me!?  Look at me!  

Little girls twirl in their skirts.  Little boys run fast and jump high.  They want to show you something--- they want to show you themselves.  

They want you to see them and take note!  Look at me!  is the heart cry of every child.  

This is my heart cry sometimes, too.  Is it yours?  I think we all still walk around asking the same question from time-to-time.  Do you see me?  With our words and our behavior, we twirl and we run and jump high! We want to be seen and noticed.  We want to be known.  "Look at me!" we cry out.  

I was struck with this thought yesterday as I was reading in John 9.  "As He was going along, He saw a man born blind" (John 9:1)

Jesus saw.  

He took note of this man.  Jesus took note of a man that was overlooked and unseen (and unseeing!)...  He saw him.  Then, to top it off, after healing this man and being separated from him for some time, Jesus goes out of his way again to look for this man.  He searches for him again.  And, Jesus finds him!  (John 9:35)

Jesus sees and He searches.  He is so personal.  He walked around this earth so awake, aware and open!  

Recently, I was thinking and praying about my own struggle with vanity and insecurity.  I was thinking about the temptation toward self-focus and pride.  What is the answer to this age-old plague within me?!  There are times I just want to be noticed.  Just like a little girl in pink, I want to twirl and shout, "Look at me!"

I feel this tendency rising within and I experience a deep need to be noticed.  My natural Stephanie-answer is to correct these feelings and tell them to go away... "you bad feelings-you!"  

Is this the way, Lord Jesus?  As I was praying, I asked the Lord what He might say to this...  Lord Jesus what would You say to this?  Why do I clamor for attention and notice, Lord?  

After processing a few reasons for the "why" in my personal history...  I, then, felt the tender whisper of His truth waft across my mind, "Stephanie, I see you."  

I see you!  

Ah!  my spirit felt relief with this thought  Ah! The answer...  My answer is Him---the God Who Sees!  

I don't have to stop, punish and suppress that childish need to be seen! This age-old question, "Do you see me?!" has been answered!  Yes, I see you!  I have always seen you and am ever watchful.    

I don't have to stop twirling in my pink skirt.  I simply need to remember that I am seen!  He sees me.  I don't have to cry out any longer, Look at me!  He saw me in my mother's womb (Psalm 139:16).  And, He sees and searches for me every day.  

He sees you, too.  So twirl for Him!  Run fast and jump high today.  Bring a smile to His face today!  He has always seen you.  And, He always will.  

Old Habits Die Hard... Time to Chuck Em Out!

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How many of us wear the same old sweatshirt or slippers over and over again... simply because they are comfortable.  Or, known?

I  do. You?

And, maybe in the same way, I think I have gotten used to drama and chaos in my soul.  I've gotten comfy in my insecurities and snugly in my habits of relating badly. Have you?

In contrast, these last few months, I have sensed an increasing peace and quietness that is filling my heart.  I feel relaxed.  For anyone that knows me well... that is a huge statement.  I feel relaxed.

I feel more deeply relaxed than I think I have ever felt before.  A soul-relaxing is happening within me and I believe it is a miracle of the Spirit of God.  Years of praying for trust and faith to build... and a profound rest seems to pervade my soul.

Not that I don't have worried and fearful moments.  Not that I am without anger or sadness or frustration.  Of course not!  No, these are still with me.  Absolutely.

But, honestly, they seem to be situated or even "floating" on top of a firmer foundation- a foundation of rest and joy that God has been building in my life.

Interestingly, though, as I sit to ponder... I am aware of a new discomfort in my soul.  I realize that, if I am honest, I am a bit uneasy with this quiet, peaceful state of mind and heart.  It is as if the feeling of peace is bringing dis-quiet and discomfort.  It doesn't feel "right" or "natural".

Peace feels suspect.  I question it.  I'm skeptical.  Should I feel this calm?  What am I missing?  Is something around the corner?  ...Am I just in denial?  

I wonder and question and then I worry...  And, with the worry comes strange relief... Ah!  now, I feel "normal" and comfy again!    A bit crazy, I know!

I think I have gotten far to used to chaos and commotion in my soul.

Why would peace and joy be suspect and anxiety, guilt or irritability feel "comfortable"?  Or, just known?

I suppose that "wearing" these worries and sins and fears all my life has made them snugly and comfy to my soul... like stinky, wretched old slippers.  Do I actually miss the stirring and straining?

I think it is high time to throw out these noxious old slippers and settle into the new ones God has provided. This is the gift He gives me--- a gift He gives all His kids.  With salvation, He gives us a new normal.  Rest. Peace.  Freedom.  Joy.  All these things are mine to wear... every day.

Which will I put on today?

Grace for a Cracked Little One

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It cracked!  Oh no!!  

It cracked and we both instantly felt afraid.

Straight through the delicate, beautiful, pink flowers was an obvious crack.

Mom!!!  Mom, what do I do!?  The look in her eyes was sheer panic. I felt it, too.

The heat of shame flushed down my neck as I realized what had just happened.  The borrowed tea cup had just cracked!

They had freely given my daughter this precious item to use... but, it had also come with a warning.  Be careful!  Please be careful, she had said, it is very fragile.  She had been careful!!  I watched her carefulness.  Proud of her, I watched as she heeded the generous warning...

But it didn't matter.  This precious piece of history was now leaking tea...  it had cracked.

My girl had just needed one more tea cup and saucer for the Christmas tea she was hosting.  Last minute, we asked around... neighbors.  And, this one was given.

It was 50 years old.  Bought on a honeymoon to commemorate a marriage.  A precious treasure that was then stored away... hardly ever used.  But, freely given.  They wanted her to use it.

And, she had been so very careful with it!

But, it clearly cracked and leaked.  We both felt afraid and ashamed.

Mom, what do I do!? 

In that moment, I calmly advised her to lay it down.  She had done her best, I told her.  We would deal with the problem after the party.

Lay it down, my sweet girl. 

Go enjoy your party.  Enjoy your friends.  It is not a worry for now.  Lay it down. 

Sweet girl, they will be graceful.

These last words were spoken with a hopeful prayer behind them.  Oh! Father, help them to be graceful!

We hang on so tightly to things, don't we!?  We treasure this world and our homes and our bodies.  We grasp and we grab and we just tug a bit tightly.  Or, at least, I do.  When our world and our bodies and our things break---we feel angry, we feel hurt.  It hurts when our things crack.

What grief might this cracked-precious-thing bring to my dear friends?  The thought made my stomach turn.

The Christmas tea went off without another hitch.  The giggling and singing of girl-friends wafted through the house.  She had moved on and enjoyed!

But, she hadn't forgotten.  After the laughter died down, the games were finished and the party was over, she looked at me again with fear.  Go with me, please, Mom!  I need you.   We walked hand-in-hand.  We walked the tiny, delicate, now-damaged memento home to her owners.

Do you know what they said...

The word grace hardly even describes the response.  It felt bigger, sweeter, and even more tender than grace.

The minute my sweet girl confessed the crack, those old eyes sparkled and even laughed a bit with light in them, "Oh!  Honey! Don't you worry another minute.  I am so sorry you were troubled about it at all.  Honey, I am going to heaven soon... and I am NOT taking this with me!"

I am not taking this with me! 

As we left, I thanked her for her grace.  She chuckled out loud this time, "Oh, dear! If I can't give grace at this age, then none of us have hope!"

My girl and I left their home with a lightness in our step and praise on our lips.

I guess we had many lessons to learn that night...  a lesson in trying your best and things still cracking!  A lesson in letting things go and enjoying a party anyway.  I think we had a lesson in prayer and hopeful expectations.   And a lesson in repentance and humility.  A lesson in the giving and receiving of grace.

Most certainly we both had a lesson in what really matters.  In holding a bit less tightly to this world.

A lighter hand.  A looser grip.

If it cracks a bit... it really is okay.  There is grace for that, too.

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..."  

Darkness Can Do Me In

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These dark, northern hemisphere mornings can just do me in.

The alarm rang this morning and it was just entirely too early.  It felt so very dark.  And... so very cold. Every fiber in my body wanted to stay in my warm and cozy bed... and stay in my warm and cozy sleep, too!

I didn't want to get up.

I just plain did. not. want. to!  Do you ever feel this way?

With a quick, whispered plea-prayer for help, a strength from within pulled and tugged me out of bed.  One foot in front of the other.

These are the moments I am so grateful for the day-in-and-day-out quiet times in God's Word.  Each day, I journey downstairs in the early morning and I eat a meal from Scripture.  In prayer, I drink from my Father's well of grace, love and goodness.  He feeds me on His Truth--on Himself.  These daily meals are the drink, food and spiritual calories that my heavy feet are desperately reliant upon when the truly hard mornings and hard days come.

But, today's early morning darkness and chill didn't dissipate with my quiet time.  It didn't dissipate with my forced-exercise (me forcing me, for clarity sake!).  I. dont. want. to!  was all that really bounced around in my soul.  Like a child having a tantrum, my body and my heart fought each morning's step... each routine.

It didn't dissipate when the sun finally did rise and my children bounded down with joyful greeting.  It still lingered when we began to read God's word together as a family.  I still wanted to go back to bed.

But the routine was there and the Truth was not far behind.   Truth began to speak tenderly into my heart in these moments.

Truth pushed me out of bed and followed me downstairs.  Truth sat with me, in tender patience, as I wandered aimlessly about in my "time-with-God".  Truth followed me into the kitchen this morning and then into the bathroom.  In fact, Truth from last week's God-meal flooded into my mind as I threw myself into the shower...  "My soul finds rest in God alone.  ...Find rest, O my soul!"  (Psalm 62)

Like a quiet voice, these words wafted across my mind.    Find rest, O my soul.

It was in that moment something seemed to alter and awaken.  In that moment the Truth seemed to find a home in my hungry heart.  Ah... my soul seemed to say... ah!  Yes! 

My soul needs rest.  Rest. 

In God alone.  

Find rest, O my soul, in to God alone.  Find rest, Stephanie, in God alone.  

These words, God's Truth,  filled me and moved me and washed over me as the water rinsed my shampooed hair.  His Truth had followed me all morning long and He was, indeed, all the rest I needed today.

For today, I am not done-in by the darkness and the cold.

"Surely Your goodness and Your mercy will follow me all the days of my life!"  (Psalm 23)

You are Here

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For a while now I had been trying the Prayer of Examen and finding myself quite frustrated.

Each night as I would prayerfully consider my day, I had trouble really remembering or getting in touch with what I had experienced internally.  I could remember the day's events, of course, but had a hard time expressing to God all that I had been feeling in that given day. The "Examen" step where you are to "pay attention to your emotions" as you analyze throughout the day was frustrating and felt unhelpful.  Apparently, I generally walk through a good portion of my days very much unaware and very much in auto-pilot.

So, I have been trying something "new" these past few weeks.  I am trying a "Stephanified-version" of the Ignatian Examen.  Maybe we could call it the Examen for the Unaware.  Or the Examen for the Memory-Impaired.  Whatever you want to call it, I have been trying something new!

And there is something big and beautiful shifting inside me as a result!

Three or four times a day, I attempt to purposefully stop whatever I am doing.  (I do have alarms that ring to help remind me!) I stop and internally ask one simple question:  Where am I or where have I been these past hours?

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Someone told me the other day that Larry Crabb calls this "a red dot moment".  That little-red-dot.  You know when you walk into a shopping mall and are looking for the shoe store or the card shop.  The mall's large directory stands looming before you and you scan.  You look for where you need to go, of course.  And, then you scan for what?  What do you find? ...A little red dot and the words, "You are here".  That little red dot helps you tremendously, doesn't it?  Now, you can find the card shop.  But, if you don't know where you are in relation to that large map... you could be stuck.

Maybe it is an overstatement, but I have felt slightly stuck for years.  Years and years I have been asking God for more awareness and more consciousness of His Presence throughout my day.  I think He is answering my prayer in a strange and unexpected way.   Where I have been asking Him to show me Himself... He is teaching me to see myself, instead.  I think He is teaching me to really see myself.  Where am I?

I am not "looking" for Him perse, anymore.  I am trying to find me.  And, in return, I am seeing Him!  He is showing Himself to me.  As I become more aware of where I am,  I am sensing Him with me... in the processing.  In the awareness.  He is with me right in the "red dot moment".

I stop.  I ask myself, Where am I?  Where have I been these past few hours?

...sad.  upset.  ...harried. ...overwhelmed. ...joyful. ...irritated.  ...worried.  ...prayerful. ...peaceful. ...fearful. ...angry.  ...annoyed.  At any given part of my day, I can "be" in any of these places.

There is something shifting inside me.  I believe the Holy Spirit is shifting something deep within.  Awareness seems to be the key.  I don't even feel a great need to analyze or judge these "places" or these "feelings". They just are.  Realities.

They are just true.  And, they are covered and contained by Him and in Him.

As I have been watching these moods, these feelings, these reactions... I am seeing some patterns.  God and I will need many new discussions about the whys of these realities.  Why do I feel this way, for example... when this or that happens?  But, for right now, that doesn't seem to be the point.

I know where I want to go.  I know the "shop" I am aiming for:  more awareness of Him and His Presence.  I am realizing that first I need to know better, or figure out more truth, about where I am before I journey toward that End.

"How can you draw close to God when you are far from your own self? Grant, Lord, that I may know myself, that I may know thee.” ~St. Augustine

What do you see?

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Sometimes it is simply a matter of how you look at it.

What is it I see and of what do I make note?

Today, I can look out the window and notice that the hydrangea plant isn't flowering much and isn't getting very full.  It seems to still be more green than red--will it ever be full of color?

Or, I can look at that same hydrangea plant and remark on the radiant deep red that colors the top half of the bush.   I can note how the colors combine and compliment each other reminding me that Christmas is coming---red and green!  It is simply a matter of how I see.

I can notice and complain about how the hydrangea bush seems to be growing at an odd and awkward angle ...  or, instead, I can declare the remarkable way it is growing outward and upward, stretching and straining toward the afternoon sun!  This plant will do anything, even a strange crick of it's neck, to drink in the sunlight.

What do I see when I look at that same-said plant?

Day-in-and-day-out we all have a choice.   I have the choice today.

I was exercising this morning to a work-out video.  In the video, the instructor says, "If you can do any of this work-out, you have reason to praise God!"  I was so deeply struck with her perspective.  In that moment, I was frustrated that I couldn't do this-and-that... that my stamina was so limited.  She was looking at the same-said workout with a different lens.  She reminded me that I have reason to praise God!  I can move and jump and all my limbs work today!  I can exercise.  And, that, in-and-of-itself, is reason to worship.

What will I see today?

Will I note those things that are undone?  Or can I notice and rejoice in those things that have been accomplished...

Will I note the lack of faith or the worry in my heart, or enter into those moments when I feel close and experience trust?

Sometimes it is just a matter of how I choose to look at it.

I want to see the deep red of the hydrangea and rejoice as it lifts it's head toward the light. I want to be thankful for breath in my lungs, feet that work and faith that resides deep in my heart.  I want to be watchful and aware today and see, in wonder, all the good and perfect gifts from God, my Father.   Give me eyes to see, Father.  


**funny postscript.  Just after writing and posting this blog, I walked into the school room with my son's corrected math homework. As I handed it to him, he asked, "How many did I get wrong?".  Son, I said, don't ask how many you got wrong... ask me, "How many did I get right!?"  He laughed at me and asked again, "Mom, how many did I get wrong?"
...we all have a choice.  Day in and day out.  How many things will I see aright today?  

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

Shut Up!

 "Eve, don't listen to the liar!" by Paul Gauguin (Photo Source)

Sometimes I have to just tell her to "shut up".

Sometimes I need to say "Step back! Step-off! and Shut up!

Do you ever hear her or him... that inner critic, that judge and shame-dealer?

She pokes and prods and tells me how lame I am or what a failure I am.  She tells me to give-up and that it isn't worth it.  And, sometimes she tells me that I am unloved or unlovable.

When she "speaks", she is tenacious.   Always, she is a liar.  She is mean, unforgiving and ungraceful.

Today, she is plaguing me.  Like fingernails on a black chalk board, her "voice" is grating and shrill. It is time to tell her to "shut up".  Enough already.  Be quiet, in Jesus Name!

The Voice of Truth tells me a different story.  His Words are true and kind.  They are gentle, humble and dripping with grace.  And, with His voice,  all things can be calmed.

...even her ugly critiques.

So, this morning I say, "Enough is enough!"  In the name and power of Jesus, be still.  And, shut up!

All the Beauty by JJ Heller 

I know that she's a liar when I look into her eyes

But I believe in every word she says

She's out to start a fire burning everything I have

I can't put it out 'cause it's all inside my head 

And then You sing

I hear You sing

You call me lovely

You call me friend

You call me out of death and let me try again

You call me beloved

You call me clean

Then you show me all the beauty that you see in me

I still hear her whisper and sometimes I hear her shout 

You're not good enough and you will never be 

But if I focus on Your singing I can start to tune her out

'Cause You came with a love to set me free

I know that You love me enough to die

And I will try to see the value that you place on me

And You say I'm worthy

Voice of Truth by Casting Crowns

What God Actually Wants From Me

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I have read it so many times before.

But in that moment of time, the words seemed to jump off the page and fill my mind and heart with such emotion.  His Word moved and shifted something deep within my very soul.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and all your mind.  (Deuteronomy 6:5)  We read this verse together during a wonderful bible study I attended on Thursday night.

Thou shall love the Lord...

This!  I thought.

This is what our Almighty God asks of us---of me.  This is what He wants---what He really wants from His people.  His greatest command.  His greatest heart desire.  My God wants me to love him.

This is what He requires... love.

Love Me, He says.  Love Me with your whole life--with all you are.  

Love Me, Stephanie.  

In our home education studies of Ancient Civilizations, the kids and I have been studying the multitude of ancient religions.  From before written history, humanity has been worshiping and practicing religion. Most every culture has had gods... or even a god... that they worship.  But, besides the Jews, none...  absolutely none... are given such an intimate request and command:  Love Me.

Other "gods" need to be managed or feared or placated.  They need to be appeased and fed and avoided.  They want obedience or submission or worship.  For weeks as we have studied these other religions I have been moved and blessed by the fact that God Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, My Father...  is so entirely different than any other "god".  His Word is so very unique.  He has always been unique and different.  He has always been set-apart.  And, He will always be.

He alone is God!

He reveals Himself as something totally "other" and He offers something that no other "god" can offer:  a love relationship.

What an invitation!  He offers us relationship and He asks one primary thing from us.. our love.

I am struck by the thought that when my husband asked me to marry him, he too was asking something from me.  He was telling me that he loved me, yes; but, he was asking one thing from me--- love me, Stephanie.
Can you love me... can you return my love?

This.  This is what my God, my Husband, is asking of me today.  Can you love Me, Stephanie?
Love Me with all you are...

Life Long Journey of Grace

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It's a journey of grace, my sweet son.

Every day.  Needed grace...

My son has been reading a great book, Growing Up Christian by Mark Jacobsen.  In this book the author challenges students to take their faith in God seriously... to make it "there own".  He pokes a bit at the non-Christian student living in the home of Christian parents.  He wants his readers to think, to analyze, and to test their faith.  He writes in a winsome way, to be sure; but, my eleven year old son hears something different as he reads.  He has taken it to heart so seriously that he has been in tears a few times.

Confused.  Agitated.  Upset.  Am I even a real Christian, Mom?...  he has wondered and questioned out-loud.

It is journey of grace, my son.  A journey... one foot in front of the other.  

My son deeply loves God.  My son also struggles with the need to be perfect; or the desire to be "already done".  He struggles with frustration and defensiveness with his own weakness and sin.  He wants to be perfect today.  Yesterday would have been nice.

Hmmm...just like his Mamma.  Nature or nurture?  I don't know.  But, I heard his heart and knew his pain as he struggled through today's chapter on pride.  He questioned and felt angst!  I think he was even angry at the book.  I get it.

In this chapter, Mark Jacobsen is inviting the reader to a sweet adventure in humility.  He is pointing out the difficulty of pride in our lives.  He is offering suggestions and pathways to walk to becoming more humble. Very helpful, for sure.  But, to my son, he heard condemnation.  He grieved the fact that he isn't there yet.

I am so prideful, Mom!  

And, if I am honest (which Jacobsen encourages), I don't even really want to be humble at all!   All this was said with exasperation and frustration--- not with the author, exactly, but with himself.

His father's words were priceless... "Oh, buddy, don't worry... you will be struggling with your pride for years to come!"  We all laughed.

One foot in front of the other...

It is a journey of grace, my boy.  Every day.  All day.  Needed grace.  

I keep telling my son... and telling myself... that perfection is not for today and probably not tomorrow either. He chuckles when I say this.  So, do I.    Of course it isn't!?  We can laugh together at our insecurities and our quirks.

Perfection isn't for today; but, instead we have just grace.  Just simple, marvelous, unexplainable, incredible grace.

I remind him often that we have fresh mercy every day and we can fall into His unfailing love and faithfulness.  Just as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, he will indeed sin or at the least he will want to sin.  And, just as sure as the sun will set tomorrow, God has grace for that too...

I need it today.  You?  I need that never-ending, abundant grace poured out from my loving Father.

Every day.

Made With Love

photo source

Things just taste better when they are made with joy and love!

These words popped out of my sweet girl's mouth this morning as our family delighted in the breakfast creation she and her brother made.

Mouth full of sticky, gooey goodness, she declared this truth:  When something is made with joy, it tastes so good going down.

I agree, sweet girl.  I agree.

I had made the recipe before:  "Apple Fritters".  It is a tasty recipe.  We all enjoyed it last time.  But this time, something was different.  They were astounding!  So very, very yum!

"Why?" I wondered.  "What did you guys do differently?"  I asked as I licked my fingers with delight.

"Things just taste better when they are made with joy and love!"

She isn't wrong...

She and her brother had planned this cooking extravaganza together days before.  They had anticipated the activity and been excited to do this special breakfast for me and my husband.  And, they had laughed, sang and worked with fun the whole time.

These doughnuts were fried-up with joy and sprinkled with love.

The cooking, the cleaning, the emails and the work I do every day...  what is it that makes the difference?  What, indeed, makes these things "taste" good--to me or to others?  What is that spoon-full-of-sugar that is available for every task and every job?

May I learn from my children, Lord.  May the work of my hands... the tasks of my day... be done with joy and with love.  May songs, laughter, and relationship flavor all that I do!