A Lil' Sentence Does a Whole Lot of Good

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It didn't feel inappropriate or untoward.

It did surprise me, though.  It caught me off guard.

An older man, slightly humped and bald with wisps of grey hair around his ears walked passed me... maybe we was nearing 80 years old?

When we passed on the sidewalk, I smiled at him.  His face immediately lit up---bright and beautiful--- he seemed to grow younger by 20 years.  As he looked up he immediately said, "Well, you are the prettiest thing I have seen today!"

I literally felt the shock of his words and quickly replied, "Thank you, you are very sweet!"  Then we went about our day...  Me moving forward, the gentleman walking the other way.

Our paths crossed for only a moment.

In the first moments after we passed I prayerfully wondered if his comment was inappropriate.  In our current world---which is over-sensual and over-sexualized; with such an emphasis placed on outward appearance---was this wrong for him to say such a thing to a stranger?   I wasn't sure.

But, a few steps further down the road and I could literally feel myself walking taller and with more confidence.  I felt younger, too.  A bit of the child in me seemed touched and maybe even dancing.  The strength and energy in my stride caught my attention.  How had one little sentence brought such a significant subconscious response from my heart, my body... my very being?

It is hard to estimate and count what this little, kind compliment did for my soul.

I kept prayerfully wondering... watching my thoughts with curiosity...  A few steps further down my path, I pondered if this was my ugly-sided vanity rearing it's head.   Could be.  But, this felt different.  This felt purer.  This felt sweet.  Who can know their own heart, truly?  (Jeremiah 17:9)  Only God knows.

As I prayed, though, and walked a few steps further... I had a simple thought:  Words are powerful.

This man crossed my path for one very short moment.  And, his words had power.  They impacted me before I could 'think'.  His words had taken affect before my conscious mind was even aware.  My response to his sentence was something to 'look back on' and wonder about.  His words had a distinctly positive and uplifting impact.   At least, it felt positive.

What might my words do today?  What might I say to my husband, my son or my daughter?  What might I say to my neighbor or the stranger at the store?  Can I use my mouth to bring about blessing!?  Can I lift someone's head and help them to walk just a little bit taller?

It didn't cost that man anything to compliment me.  In fact, I would venture, from the look on his face, that it befitted his soul to offer me that rose.  He moved onward a bit taller, too. 

Lord, use me to bolster and to bless!  Father, help my mouth... all I say...to be used to raise up and to lift.  Fill me with Your Spirit, Your love and Your thoughts about this beautiful world and the beauty that fills each face.  "For out of the same mouths come blessing and cursing, brothers... it should not be!" (James 3:10)

Wanting to Write Faith

I am so naturally inclined to fix things...

Or.  Should I say I am naturally inclined to try to fix things? Or... even more accurately, I desperately want things to be fixed.  And, by things---I guess I should say people.

Yep.  People.  I want to fix people.  

I am so naturally inclined to want to try to fix people.  Myself, very much included.

A friend recently reminded me that people---any person--- "Is not a problem to be fixed".  People are not a problem.  People are a beautiful, created soul.  Each person I interact with is a unique soul to be loved, heard, seen, and encouraged.   NOT a problem to be fixed. 

Oh how I need to remember this...  

Why do I so want to fix the world, others, and very-especially myself?  

If, indeed, Jesus is the author of faith and the finisher/perfecter of faith (Hebrews 12:2).  Then, at no point in any person's journey, is it for me to try to fix and/ or correct their faith.  I can't create faith---I can't author it.  And, I certainly can't perfect faith.  The job of  the Almighty Author is to write faith and then bring each faith story to completion. 

I just get to read.  I get to love the story... or not.  I get to engage my heart, 'get really into' the book, and open up to what I see in the story being written.

People are as different as any two books!  

My job is to read the "stories" God is writing and bringing along my path...

I can interact with them, engage my heart in the story I am reading.  I can certainly cheer for the Hero of the story, applaud the good I see, and---like any good book--- profoundly long for the lovely outcome and conclusion the Author will bring about!   I can really, really want a happy ending.  

But, plain and simple: I am not the Author of Life.  I am not the Author of faith...mine or yours.  

Am I just talking to myself here?  

Because, I am so naturally inclined to fix things...  

Drink Deep

After living in Britain for nearly ten years, I understand why they always talk about the weather.  In fact, I now find myself doing the very same thing.  There are many reasons... but, inconsistency and the unexpected are first and foremost.  Who really knows what today will bring?  Absolutely no weather app helps out here in my village.  (We have tried them all!)

We have all been shocked and surprised by this current 'Mediterranean Summer'.  Generally speaking, Wales is not a warm climate in any regards.  I am fond of saying that, living in this land, I have been bone-cold for 9 years straight!!  The wet, chilling cold (and dark) has at times been a small trial for this California-girl’s body.  But, recently, we have had the most amazing sun, warm days, dry and blues skies.  I have actually felt uncomfortably hot (which is absolutely wonderful!) and even have a slight sunburn from sitting way too long outside. 

But, with this dry warmth has come a brand new problem.  My grass is dying and my flowers... well, they look very, very sad.  To make myself clear, I have NEVER once had to water my lawn or my flowers.  Never.  It is that wet---pretty much all the time.  But, with this new, lovey 'Summer-vibe' comes a new, and harsh reality:  plants and green, living things need water! 

I have a large, beautifully vibrant hanging basket at my front door filled with summer flowers.  I have been quite meticulous in my attempts to keep it alive and well. Yesterday, I watered and tended it.  This morning it looked so very sad!  Drooping.  Dying.  Desperate.  Quite sad, really, ...as if only one day without water and all it's life had been slipping away.  As I watered it, I could literally see it revive in front of my eyes.  It was quite remarkable, actually.  As it drank, it seemed to lift it's head very slowly and cry out with a relieved sigh, Thank you!--- looking at me with a satisfied smile.   (Okay... no, my plant didn't actually talk or smile at me...)  But, the revival of life was real, none-the-less!  

Indeed, living things survive on water.  

Awaking today in the morning's cool air and heading out to the garden to water... I felt a nudge and sweet whisper.  Water yourself, Stephanie

Water yourself.

We, too, live in a dry and weary land (Psalm 63:1).  What must we look like day to day when we forget to drink from God?  We need---truly and profoundly need---to sustain ourselves and water ourselves with His Presence, worship, and His Word.  If not, we also easily become droopy.  Dying.  Desperate.  Sad, really. 

Scripture refers to God multiple times as the living water.  (Jeremiah 2:13) He is a living drink without and within!  We must drink deeply....daily... throughout each and every day! 

Lord, I will water myself today.  Thank you for being my sustenance.   I will sit and linger a bit longer---drinking in His love, His Truth and His strength.  For "His love is better than life itself" (Psalm 63) 

Okay, God... let's have some FUN

A few months ago, as I was being prayed for, a brother felt he heard God whisper the word Fun into his heart.  After the prayer time, he approached me and said he felt God wanted me to have more fun in my life---especially in this season of transition with my children launching into the world and out of my nest.  He then asked me a pointed question, "What is fun for you?"

I was dumbstruck.  The feeling of utter confusion must have wafted across my face... because he laughed out loud.  "Ah!" he said, "That is probably where you need to start!"

I have been a wife for nearly 25 years and a mother for 20 years.   Almost half my life I have had the privilege of nurturing and raising two amazing children.  I have worked part time from home and we chose to home educate, as well; and so... my time has been very much all about them.  I truly don't regret this in any way, shape, or form.  I feel blessed by this truth.  But, when it comes to fun for me... well, ...I just didn't have an answer.  The question actually felt strange in my ear and hard for my heart to comprehend.  I know what is fun for my husband.  I know what is fun for my son and my daughter.

In all honesty, I am not sure I could have answered this question even 25 years ago.  'Fun' doesn't come naturally to me... I don't 'do' 'fun for me'.  Or at least, that is how it felt.

I began to pray.  What IS fun for me, Lord? Lord, help me know myself.

My 'go-to' solution to any dilemma is to pray and then read.  When in doubt, I say, read a book!  On the heels of this prayer time, a friend 'just so happened' to send me a book about the God-given creativity in every human being, The Soul Tells a Story by Vanita Hampton Wright.  I wondered if creativity and fun went together?  So... why not... I picked it up and gave it a go.  Maybe God would begin to answer my question in this way...

For years, I have had a very regular debate going with my husband.  "I am not a creative person" was my stance.  We had the--- 'yes, you are'... 'no, I'm not'--- going for years.  From the beginning, Ms. Wright suggests that creativity lives in each and every of us;  innate in us, creativity is like one fingerprint of God's design as 'made in His image'.  He created.  He creates still.  We also create.  Wright does a fabulous job explaining that creativity is so uniquely colored and varied with each individual...and so, I guess, sometimes it just isn't noted.  Or, understood and labeled as "creativity".

Or, in fact, it just gets lost for some of us.  In the first chapters, she offers a set of exercises which explore what was 'fun' for you as a child.  Like venturing back memory lane, you are searching for what was in you naturally... maybe what got hid away, or set aside.  What did you do as a child that you enjoyed?  What made you happy?  What did you do for fun?  For me, this question alone took quite a bit of time, quiet, prayer, and memory-journeying to find some answers.

I now believe with all my heart that I am indeed creative.  (My husband will be pleased with this!)  And, I have slowly ventured into the effort of 'doing' more fun things in my life.  Opening up.  Pressing in.  Things I used to do...?  Things that I have always wanted to do... or wondered about?  Slowly.  One thing at a time.

My newest venture has been into the realm of watercolor painting.  The ever-present practical-Stephanie assumed (wrongly, as it turned out)... that this was a cheap hobby.  So, I started here.

Today, I boldly---and it does take significant courage, mind you--- I share (below) a few of my first attempts to have creative fun in my life.  I figure, for the faithful few of you that read these posts, you hear the ins-and-outs of many vulnerabilities and very often the weaknesses in my life.  So, why not... I'll share this vulnerable place of creativity and strength, too.    And, I will assure you... I am really enjoying it!

...having a little bit of fun.  Thank you, God, for whispering on my behalf.  

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.   

Instructed Day after Day

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I love education.  I love learning.  I really do.

Give me a few quiet moments in my day, and you will find me watching a Ted Talk, reading a book, or listening to a pod cast on the Enneagram or the topic of brain science.  I just can't get enough.  Every time I scroll past one of those MasterClass advertisements online, I just want to take the class.  I wish it wasn't so expensive---I would totally sign up!  I don't care what the topic---although to be fair some are more intriguing than others to me---but, I just want to watch and learn.

I really love learning.

I have always said, I could happily be a full-time student.  ...Sitting in class, listening to lectures, reading books, writing and discussing interesting topics.  I was born a student.

So... it struck me this morning as I was reading Psalm 19:1-2:

The heavens declare the glory of God;
    the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Day after day they pour forth speech;
    night after night they reveal knowledge.

It struck me as I studied the Hebrew words here in this text.  I have a teacher who is always speaking, always declaring and recounting.  I have an instructor available to me day after day who will reveal to me knowledge and wisdom.  I do indeed sit in a classroom night after night.

What do the heavens teach and declare?  What do the skies proclaim and recount?
What is God's creation speaking forth to me---every single moment of each day?  

I can learn so much from God's handiwork, His creation.  It speaks.  It tells and teaches me about Him that made it... it instructs me of His glory.  

Lift your eyes, Stephanie.

May I continue to learn to sit up, take notice, listen to this lecture, read it, take notes and discuss this all important topic!

God Laughs

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I think God laughed at me.

I am pretty sure of it, actually.  I can't say I heard audible laughter---just something deep and profound---

... seriously, I am pretty sure God had a good ol' chuckle.

There has been an issue that has tormented me my whole life long... since the earliest of years in my life.  This issue, I have written on this blog numerous times, can only be summed up in two words:  gluttony and vanity.  Big, ugly words, right?

Seasons of this struggle have been harder than others, to be sure.  Through the years, at times, I have felt lovely green pastures of freedom and rest.  But, recently the valley of this struggle and the temptations have been dark, intense, and stifling.  ...not to sound too dramatic.  Honestly, though, it can be constant and it can be suffocating.

Gluttony for me can be defined as the focus on food...  too much, too little, the right kind, the wrong kind, the taste, and the lust for---

Vanity for me can be defined as the focus on my body shape, type, weight, or being admired for my outward appearance---

Even as I write these things so black and white on the screen, I can feel the heat of shame and the embarrassment rising up my neck.  Bear with me, please.

I just finished an excellent book, It's Not How You Look, It's What You See by Lisa Bevere.  Funnily, it was handed to me by a co-worker who offered it into my hands as a "resource" for others.  Because, of course, I couldn't possibly struggle with such an issue.  Right?  Someone so "seasoned" in my relationship with the Lord.  Ugh... the masks and the assumptions we make about each other!!  Yes, I struggle with this!  And, boy-oh-boy is it a doosy in my heart.  Lord, have mercy.  

In this book Lisa Bevere, deals with this issue head-on and calls it exactly what it is...  idol worship.  Even in my crazy honesty here--- I will easily name it issue.  Today, I call it sin.

Idol worship.  Wow.  My struggle is that I worship a particular body type.  I worship "thin".  I worship a particular weight on the scale.  I worship food and what I think it will feed in me... the taste, the substance, the filling.  It is a terrible cycle.

I am asking God to instruct my heart in this... to write new truth in my life.  With David in Psalm 32:8, I am asking God to "instruct and teach me in the way I should go."

Today, afresh, I repent.  I choose to resist the world's (and my) definitions.  I choose to crush the idol of thin.  I choose to smash the idol of food.  I am done with the fear of fat and the lie that chocolate is what I need/deserve this afternoon.  I am done with my solutions, my plans, my ideas, and my way forward.

For the last six months, I have been counting calories for the first time in my life.  With keen awareness of this sin-reality in my heart, I have never owned a scale and never been on a diet.  Weird, I know, for someone who struggles with this sin.  I just knew these would be destructive for me. 

But, in desperation, six months ago, I started using a phone app to count calories.  Faithfully, I have been eating the "right" amount of calories that would ensure weight loss.  It is just mathematics, right?

According to my app, I should have dropped 15 lbs... 

I haven't lost a single pound.  Not a gram.  Not a single ounce.  (I am weighing myself like a crazy lady at the local pharmacy---due to "no scale rule!")  NOT a single pound.

Friday, I was out and about town and jumped on the scale.  It read the exact same number it always does (yes, I know the scale works!).
Exact.  Same. Number.

Like the punch line of a joke.  There is the number---staring right back at me.  And, I just stood there.   Really!?  When I stepped off the scale this time, I knew that God was laughing... 
I could just hear/feel/sense His big, belly, friendly, love-filled laughter---  Really, Stephanie?  Really...? 

Does that sound cruel?  It really wasn't.  It didn't feel cruel even at the time.  He was laughing at me, with me... all around me.  Another one of His miracles--- His cosmic jokes.  He miraculously kept the weight on.

As I walked home with His laughter in my heart, whispers filled my mind...  Weight is an ugly idol, Stephanie.  You aren't going to loose weight this way.  It isn't going to happen.  So give up the number.  That is not the point.  Let it go.  Can you let it go, Stephanie? 

I could feel beautiful agreement and submission in my heart...  I feel strong and healthy, Lord.  I want to take good care of this tent.  That's all, Lord.  I know that You alone are my hope, my happiness, my fullness, my joy... not these other things.  

Through the following days, I ponder and I pray.  I repent and I sit.  What is the point, Stephanie?  What are you really after?  Why?  I will instruct Your heart in the way You should go.  I will teach You new things.  

It wan't the first time.  I am certain it won't be the last...
But, yep.  God laughed at me. And, I most certainly won't be getting on a scale anytime soon.

Can you change me?

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Do you ever feel absolutely sure you are right about something?

I read somewhere that a true, genuine conversation can only happen if both parties are ready and willing to be changed by each other.  Conversation and dialogue only happen when I sit anticipating my viewpoint will indeed be altered because of this discourse.  Problem is...  what happens when you think you are absolutely right?  Period.  Full stop.

This prideful, closed way of "communication" happens much, much more frequently than genuine conversation.

I used to think it was certain personality types--- mine or my husband (ha!), for instance!---which felt they were "right" or "correct" all the time.  Or, maybe it was family of origin training.  Certainly my family has it in spades!   All I knew was that I struggled and was upset when my viewpoint was challenged or questioned.

The more years I live, I am convinced that this is true about everybody.  Every-single-body struggles when their point of view feels threatened.  Maybe not on all accounts, to be sure; but, just poke around a bit to find that person's topic-of-certainty.  Push it.  Or have a slightly differing slant or question... and you will feel the mechanisms of defense.  (Defenses are many...and they do tend to suit each personality.)

Don't get me wrong, I am a firm, firm believer if absolute Truth.   I believe that God gives us insight into and understanding of His Truth... certainly He has given us a huge leg-up with the gift of Scripture (the unchanging Truth).  We have a great deal of clarity on many areas from God's Word...  "all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23), for example.  Pretty clear.  I can hold this and many other biblical truths securely. But, I also know that my ability to understand God's ways and truth is significantly limited.   So many things I hold true are impacted by Stephanie-ism.  (Definition of "ism": a distinctive practice, a system or philosophy.)  Stephanie-practice.  Stephanie-system.  Stephanie-philosophy.

Just as there are indeed rock-solid, unchanging Truths in Scripture; equally so, there are many 'not so black and white' areas that I am learning to be at peace holding more tentatively in my hands...

...What one thinks about global warming, boarder control, working mothers, or homeschooling.  How one decides to parent a small child or keep a house.  How one interacts with their adult children, their aging parents or their neighbors.  Where and how one chooses to work, to play, or to rest.  What one thinks about exercise and diet. What one does with their time, their money, their energy... for example.  In these areas, I long to have genuine and true conversations with others.  While I believe that God's Word touches and impacts each of these areas... the "certainty" case is not closed or locked.

Can I be changed by another's ideas and their thoughts?  Can you change me?

All these things above, I think about.  And, I certainly have my opinions on each of these issues---as I am guessing you do, as well.  But, can you be changed---even if just slightly?

Yesterday, I had a conversation where I felt 'changed'.  Honestly (and slightly embarrassingly), going into the interaction, I felt very "right" in my discernment and advice.  Our first interaction about the topic did not go very well.  It was a few hours later over coffee, when this friend and I re-visited the dialogue where the thought twigged for me, "A true conversation is one where you are ready to be changed".  In that moment, I prayerfully looked across the table ready to be impacted.

Was it my openness or just the grace of the person talking with me that allowed for the topic to be resurfaced?  ...maybe a bit of both.  But, I distinctly felt a profound "aha" moment while this dear one was explaining her values and view point.  It was a lovely smack to my pride when I realized that I had been looking at the issue from one singular point---a limited way of thinking---truly unknowingly.  Her words and explanation changed me, even if just slightly.  In that moment, I had available to me another way of seeing the issue and her decisions made sense to me in a way that I had been unable to see before.  Our conversation changed me.

As I reflect on this today, I wonder and quiz myself a bit as to how often I do this with God--- let alone other people.  How often do I pray, assume, and walk forward in the "right" way, without a humble, surrendered heart ready to be impacted by my interactions.

Problem is... I generally think I am right.  Period.  Full stop.

Lord Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner and fallen short of Your glory.  Change me from the inside out.  

Where are You?

There are days when God feels very far away.  Or, maybe I might say my relationship with Him isn't great---isn't close.

In the Kazakh language, when translating the common Biblical phrase "in Christ", the term "tightly bound together with Christ" was used.

We know that this closeness... this depth of relationship is available.  But, sometimes it feels far away---out of reach.

I am realizing that on those days---or in those seasons---in reality, it is me who is very far away.  As trite as it can sound, it is not that God has moved or changed.  It is me who is far away.  And, in truth, I am not 'far away from God'--- He is ever close.  In fact, I am far from me.

In these moments, it isn't that I can't find God.  It is that I can't find myself.

I have been wandering for days and nights recently in the feeling of "far away".  David's Psalms bouncing through my head, "Where are you, O God!? Why are you far from me?  Will you remain distant forever, angry at me forever?"...these words ringing in my ears through the watches of the night, I have been tossed and turned with angst and exhaustion.

Realization hit today, though, as I finally sat long enough to ask the heart question of myself, "Where are you, O Stephanie?"

Where are you...  

God asks that of Adam and Eve those first fitful, painful, disastrous moments in recorded time.

Where are you, O Stephanie?  

Given time, pen and paper, a bit of quiet, and a reluctantly-willing heart, I sat and asked myself the very question that God asked Adam.

The answer wasn't pretty.  I, too, was hiding.  Hiding in shame.  Angry at myself for sin and choices to run away.  I was tired.  I was sad... profoundly sad. Under the anger sat frustration, embarrassment, worry, fear, hurt, insecurity, sadness, judgment, and pain.

While this may sound over-dramatic, I truly believe these are the feelings of every day life:  Everyone's every day life.   I just think we are really good at hiding from ourselves.

After prayerfully listening, to the best of my vulnerability, to my heart and asking where I was...  I sat for another moment.  And, the thought dawned on me...

You O Lord, where are you?

The same place I have always been.  I am.  Here.  Creator.  Sustainer.  Redeemer.  Rock.  Alpha and Omega.  I am Under...Over...In...you.  I am.  

I am Love.  

I used to feel that God would move far away or I couldn't find Him.  But, I am most certainly the one who moves...  I so easily move away from myself, from others, and ultimately from Him.

I have heard this trite saying, too... many times.  But, today, I experienced Him walking in my garden with me and asking me to stop and answer the age old question... Where are you?

Advent Needed Today

Last night it was at 2 am.  Sometimes it comes in the quiet of the morning... or maybe it comes into the stillness found when I am chopping vegetables for dinner.  Worry.

Worry comes.  Unbidden.  Unwelcome.  But, it comes and I find myself fighting for breath and truth---searching for a solid rock for my emotions to rest upon.

Worry.  Often about yesterday.  Most often about tomorrow.  The thoughts swirl around my mind and my heart.  Dizzy with what feels "real"...but, in reality isn't real at all.  It isn't now.  It's a story.  It is only a fictional piece playing in my mind:  Re-membering yesterday and fore-telling tomorrow.  What might have been?  What I should have done.  What I did wrong?  Will I have enough?  What might come?  What could be the end of this story line?  What if?

Last night it came at 2 am.

The darkness and loneliness of night makes the battle evermore fierce sometimes, doesn't it?

Truth fought hard at the corners and edge of my mind last night.  Do not worry.   Do not be afraid.  Do not be anxious about anything.  I heard the whispers.  But, these words felt so far off.  He felt so far off.

Lord, why is it so hard sometimes for me to take this in?  Why can I not live in this freedom that you offer and bought for me?  

Lessons long learned.  Lessons taught and written about here.  Freedom found.  And, so easily lost... again.  I believe.  Help me with my unbelief!

Morning came.  It always does.  Oh, my Dayspring!  "...through the tender mercy of God, whereby the dayspring from on high hast visited us, to give light to them that sit in the darkness..."  (Luke 1:76-79)

His faithfulness found me here again.  This morning I came.  I sat and waited.  I listened to His Word.  I asked.  Today, a fresh day.  A day to stand on His Truth and He, Himself, as the rock that can steady my heart.  His hold ever secure in midst of the fictional flood that overwhelmed me last night.

He came.  Today, He came.  My Dayspring.  My love.

Love comes.

Truth comes.  Light floods.  Welcomed.  Asked for.  ...hoped for.  The coming.  The Advent again this morning.  Fresh coming.  His whispers---ever steadfast---won and pushed through this morning.  No longer at the edge, His Presence filled.

Advent means the arrival.  The coming.  The rising.  The dawning.  My Advent, my Jesus!  Oh how this heart needs Your coming each and every day.


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The Loaves

"Fraud alert!" is never a good email subject line.  Right?

Usually these alerts amount to nothing.  Something I did has triggered the credit card or bank alert system. But, not yesterday.  

Yesterday 1,000 dollars was taken from my bank account.  After seeing the alert, I logged into our bank and my savings account sat there staring at me with 0.08 cents as it's balance.  Black and white.  8 cents. The money was gone!   

In the following micro seconds, while staring at the 8 cents,  I had a fervent stream of  deep fear and worry.... my daughter's help for college, travel to my brother's wedding this summer, the car breaks...  AH!  How?!  NO!?!  

And then almost immediately the phrase came into my mind... understand and remember the loaves...

Quiet and whispered...  remember the loaves, Stephanie.  

The phrase floated over my consciousness, as I sat staring at my empty bank account, and I could feel a peaceful invitation.  Actually, maybe a smiling, happy invitation:  Come in... You need never be afraid.  You can be unmoved.  You actually can trust Me right now, too.  

Recently, my son and I have been discussing this "loaves" phrase from Matthew 6: 50-52 " Take courage!  It is I.  Do not be afraid.  Then He climbed into the boat with them and the wind died down.  They were completely amazed, for they had not understood about the loaves; their hearts were hard"

Directly after watching Jesus feed five thousand people, the disciples get into a boat and get caught in rocky, difficult weather and water.  They are afraid.  Jesus walks to them on the water and that freaks-them-out maybe more!  The minute He gets in the boat, the water calms.  This surprised and shocked them, too.  What?  Jesus can do miracles?  What?  He can walk on water?  ...and in His presence, the wind dies down?!  It is almost as if this was the first time they had seen Him do miracles.  But it wasn't!! They had already seen so much.  In fact, He had JUST fed five thousand mouths in front of their eyes.  (with twelve left over baskets of fish and loaves, I might add!) 

But, their hearts were hard and they hadn't taken it in.  They hadn't understood.  They weren't remembering.  They were walking into this new situation---rough, tough seas and the ghost of Jesus--- and they were not translating His previous work to their difficult-now.  

How often do I do this?  How often do I forget?  

Oh! How many thousands of loaves has He given me and others I love!?!  Oh... how many answered prayers has He heard and answered.  He has lavished His very Self on and in me.  Years and years of fresh, daily miracles:  His power shown forth in food and the elements.  In the midst of difficult and the hard He has been present.    

In that early morning moment in front of my empty bank account, I stopped.  I hear you, Lord.  Almost with a slight giggle myself, I said out loud:  I understand the loaves, Lord!  I will remember and not harden my heart.   And, I left it.  ...not physically, of course.  There are phone calls and emails to be written---follow-up needed.  But, I left it emotionally.   I really left it.  

The whole day I left it.  Because of the time zone issue, there was nothing to be done till evening.  But, I dropped it and moved on in my day with peace and joy.  

With the trust, there was an implicit assumption and understanding that it may mean the money was gone for good, never to be recovered.  Sometimes God says, "No" to our requests.  He doesn't always give us physical loaves, to be sure.  Jesus never promises that the boat isn't going to rock!! 

If the money is gone for good...  Jesus, You've got this and You are with me!  

If it can be recovered... Jesus, You've got this and You are with me!  

I need never worry.  

I do worry sometimes.  And, I do harden my heart.  I don't always hear or respond to His peace-filled invitations.  But...  

Today, I understood the loaves.  

*In the end, the situation was sorted by the bank.  The money was returned.  There was indeed theft and apparently someone in New York had my debit card (even though I have it in hand here in the UK).  The joys of this dark and clever criminal world we live in!  But, in truth, all is well.  By the end of the day... all bread was back in the basket!  And I have plenty.    ...but, actually, in truth, I had plenty and enough when the bank account showed 0.08 cents.   

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.  

A Friend's Lament...Tears as Intercession

When I heard the news, I immediately burst into tears!

Tragedy struck my friend's family last weekend and I could barely believe my eyes as I read.  NO!  I can't possibly be understanding this correctly... No, Lord... NO!

The stream of tears surprised me.  Tears, like I have said before, are not a norm for me... and yet, they came like a torrent.  I wept for my friend.  I wept for the loss of a brother.  I wept for the children. Very few words... only tears.

It was as if the Lord was allowing me to feel, just a small tiny bit, of what she and her kiddos must be feeling when they heard that their father was gone.  ...in an instant.  One car.   One moment.  And, his life here on earth was over.

The shock.  The trauma.  The confusion. The pain.  ...oh! the grief, Lord!

While, I know, we don't grieve like those without faith... (1 Thessalonians 4:13) We have a great and enduring hope!  I am certain, without any shadow, where this man who loved God is now living--- oh! the glory of the resurrection! 

BUT, while we don't grieve without hope; we do still grieve.  We must grieve.  We must lament. We turn our hearts and our tears into a Psalm to set before the Father's heart.   When I read the news, I wanted to wail, to rend my garments and put ash on my head.

Our hearts are made for eternity.  Death is a separation that cuts and bleeds and tears at our very God-made natures.  We know we are made for more... for always-togetherness.  Death feels like a harsh blow in the now.

For days now, I have been carrying this friend.  Night and day.  As if I am walking so very closely to these dear ones.  It is like I can hear their hearts, feel their cries.  I have been feeling deep and profound sadness for days.  "When one part of the body hurts, the whole of the body hurts."  (1 Corinthians 12:26)  I know I am not alone in this pain-carrying.  I see it on social media.  Others are affected by this loss of a friend, a brother, a mentor.  We grieve and we pray.  We worship and we try to lend a hand.  What else do we have?

I believe that God gifts us with this grief-intercession in order to bear the burden and lighten the load. Jesus Himself is the "light" yoke (Matthew 11:28)--- and we are His hands, feet, mouth, and His eyes as we cry.

Lord, may my tears to you be an offering---an intercession.  Would You count all our tears as we grieve and would You have mercy and hear our cry?  We know this world is not our home.  We put our trust in You alone.  We believe that You are the God of all comfort; that you, Jesus are a man of sorrows, well acquainted with suffering.  Oh! How this mamma and those children need You right now.  We ask, ...we know..., that you will come alongside and cover.  Just as their daddy once covered... would You be their shield and their rock; their strong tower in the midst of this time of trouble.  

~~To support and carry this family, please consider giving to their go-fund-me account. We can lend a hand and lighten the load, even if only slightly.

Defiant Against a Dark Morning

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There are just those days...  

There are mornings when I wake up and it feels really dark.  ...the sun is shining and the sleep was fine---but, the cob webs are thick in my brain and my heart feels heavy.   A dark cloud hovers.  I just feel very tired.  Sad.  Dark.  Do you ever feel this way?  

This morning I crawled out of bed with a hovering weight and exhaustion...  wishing for more hours in bed.  As I sat down, methodically following my stubborn routine of "God-time first", I opened up to Psalm 25. And, there it was... 

There it was in black and white print---life on a page.  An invitation.  Light to be had.  ...an offering:  

"In you, Lord my God, I put my trust"

On dark and difficult days, I have a choice.  Do I open up and let the light in?  Do I lift my face and speak truth to my soul?  

This morning, as I read these words, I knew there was an invitation.  Trust Me.  

Trust me for your enough again today.  In Me you have all you need.  Trust Me for all you need.  Trust that I am bigger than it all.  

In exhausted surrender, my head fell back into the arm chair, face raised... 

I can only whisper these words today---  You are bigger than it all!  In, You, Lord my God, I put my trust!  

I sat...  for how long, Lord?  I sat and I asked.  I prayed.  I listened.  In You, Lord my God, I put my trust!  

Into my heart began a faint song...  words that rang true and echoed life.  "We are more than conquerors through Christ"   (song here... do have a listen, if you can...such beautiful truth in this song!)  

I found my phone and listened on repeat--- these words becoming my prayer.  

There will be dark days...  we have them.  We all do.  The heavy dark speaks lies to us and makes us feel we are separated from Him in some way.  This is not true!  We are never separated from His love.  Never.  

Seek Him first...  open His word, looking for His heart and His invitation of life and light.  

For, indeed, we are more than conquerors through Christ!  
"In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us!  For I am convinced [that nothing] will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus, our Lord!" (Romans 8:37-39)

Songs of My Heart

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Like a stream of consciousness, the memories come unbidden.

I was simply sitting down to blow dry my wet hair and then in my mind's eye, I am there...  nearly 20 years ago, but I am "seeing" it and feeling it, like it was yesterday.

While in this season of launching my first child, there seems to be this movement in my mind... seemingly random memories coming like a wave.

Different things trigger the memories---a picture, a smell, a song, a comment.  This morning it was music.  As I often do,  I hit play on my "Worship" playlist.  I sat to begin a regular morning routine of makeup and hair.  Within only a few notes, the memory came rushing in...

link for song...  take a listen, if you can

The song begins with ..."It is our confession what we are weak... so very weak!" 

In a moment, I was taken back...  holding, rocking, clutching a baby girl.  We had taken this little one with us across the ocean into a backwater country.  Young and terrified, I stood over her crib, holding her tiny body while her fever screamed at my momma's heart, "Be afraid, be very afraid!"  

It is an intense fear that we feel as we hold our little ones and watch them writhe and struggle against sickness.  It is a deeply intense fear that we all feel when we are out of control... when we can't fix it, we can't make it okay.  

That night long ago, it was this song that I sung over her.  As I held her and prayed, the words seemed to flow out of my soul---a song, a prayer, a confession---

 "It is my confession, Lord, that I am weak---so very weak---but, You are strong!"

It's our confession, Lord that we are weak…So very weak, but You are strong

And though we've nothing, Lord…To lay at Your feet

We come to Your feet and say, "Help us along"

A broken heart and a contrite spirit, You have yet to deny

Your heart of mercy beats with love's strong current.

Let the river flow, God.  By Your Spirit now, Lord we cry

Let your mercies fall from heaven! Sweet mercies flow from heaven!

New mercies for today--Shower them down Lord, as we pray

How long did I rock her and sing this song over her that night?  It feels like I have been singing and rocking this over her for her entire life!

Today, as I writhe and struggle with the feelings of launching her.  As I watch her sadness, her pain, and as I feel my own...  As we truly roller-coaster-ride the ups and downs of this launch:  ...excitement, hope, anticipation, mixed with the high fever of grief, frustration and terror...

As her tears, and mine, scream at us, "Be afraid, be very afraid!",  I am in that selfsame place I was 18 years ago.  

I am holding her, rocking her with my heart, and I am praying these very same words... 

Help us along!  New mercies for today, Lord, shower them down as we pray!  

And, each time I sing this.  Each time I pray...  He holds and He rocks.  He stills.  In these moments, I know He sings over my soul.  Even when I can't hear it, I know He is singing...  He is always singing His song.  

Today, I choose to listen and lean in.  I let Him hold me and rock me.  Today, I say "yes" and hear His words--- Be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go (Joshua 1:9)

My Enough

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In this season of life sleep is not always a given.  There are many mornings when I feel heavy and exhausted after the restless or sleepless night.  It had become a daily habit of mine to tell the family at the breakfast table how much sleep I had gotten...  "I only got 3 hours of sleep last night" ...longing for those around me to take part, sympathize, and understand.

It was only a few weeks ago that I had the thought... why am I keeping track?  What is the point?  Is it helping me in any way to know?**

Brene Brown in her fabulous books often talks about a 'mentality of scarcity'.  We walk around struggling with the "not enough" feeling all day long.  Scarcity.  I am not enough... or I don't have enough.  Not thin enough.  Not smart enough.  Not tall enough.  Not funny enough.  Not enough time.  Not enough sleep.  Not enough energy.  Not enough fun.  Not enough money.

This 'not enough' mentality--- scarcity--- haunts us and follows us around throughout our days. But, it's a lie.  This way of thinking is absolutely false.

In contrast, we are told that we have "all we need for life and godliness"...  (2 Peter 1:3).  Scripture tells us that God gives us all we need...

It is false to say I don't have enough for life.  No!  In Christ, I truly have all I need!

"The way to slowly die is to believe you live in scarcity---not abundance" ~Ann Voskamp

According to Scripture, when we live in Christ, we live in abundance.  Abundance of grace. Abundance of strength.  Abundance of peace.  Abundance of life and light and truth...

So, I have decided to stop keeping track.

An older friend here told me she read an article that said it is helpful to not look at the clock when you wake up in the middle of the night.  The news article stated that it helps you fall asleep quicker if you don't know... or don't look.  I started there one night.  (and this was quite a discipline)

Now when I am tossing and turning... or wide awake... I just don't look.  I cover my clock with a book!  Why do I need to know?  It only brings trouble to my mind, it never helps.

I just stopped keeping track entirely.  I don't count.  I don't keep track and I don't tell my family how much sleep I got, or didn't get.  I actually don't know!

My goal in the morning, instead, is to swing my feet around, plant them firm on the ground and stand on the truth that I have enough.  For today.  For life and godliness, today, I have all I need.   In this, I can be very thankful for any and all sleep.  Slowly, I am trusting I got exactly what I need.  Jesus is my enough.  He has given me all I need today for life and for godliness...

Today, I had just enough sleep.  If, in fact, I didn't get much; then, He will give me enough energy for what He is calling me to today.  In Him, I have enough.

I speak to my soul...  Trust the Lord, Stephanie.  Trust that He is Your enough.  Trust that in Him you have abundance.  He has given you what you need.  And, indeed, He will give you what you need for today.  



**Of course, it is helpful to keep track of these things when we are struggling to take good care of ourselves.  ...am I giving myself the vegetables I need?  Am I giving my body exercise and healthy care?  Am I going to bed at a beneficial time---allowing for enough sleep?  In these ways, it can be super helpful to know... or keep track.  But, this isn't my problem.  I am taking good care of my body--- heading to bed at a decent hour.  I am just simply not sleeping.  (a very common problem, so I hear, with women 'my age' and older!)  

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...  

What does freedom look like?

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When talking about our fragile bodies, the word "mass" is never a good word. Mass is just a bad, bad word.

When the word mass comes with a measurement of length and depth and is found in your 17 year old daughter's abdomen... well, it is an absolutely sickening, horrid word.

She had been in pain.  We knew that the daily pain had been increasing... with frequency and intensity.  But, you just never expect.  We didn't expect it.

On January 14th, they found a mass in my daughter's upper abdomen.  The ultrasound tech poked, prodded and spent an extra 20 minutes measuring and trying to discern the realities of this mass.   In that beautifully new, pristine white, sterile, cold room, the doctor explained that there was a 3.6 cm x 3.5 cm x 1.5 cm mass.  He showed us the sonogram---there it was, plain as day...even to an untrained eye.   It needed more investigation and he scheduled a CT scan for the following day.

The next 48 hours was a wild mix of emotions.

We were in a different, foreign country.  We had only arrived the day before.  My husband was scheduled to speak at a 400 person conference in Asia on the topic of "Freedom".

Freedom.

For the past three months, as he had been preparing his lessons for the conference, it had become our family mantra, "What does freedom look like in this, Lord?"  ...when my email account is failing, when my friend is in depression, when my unsaved family member is in the hospital, when I spill beetroot juice on my white sweater, when the university decisions for our kids hang in the balance, when we are grieving the upcoming launch of our girl.... In these things, small and large, what does freedom look like?  

In jet-lag, in shock, in someone else's home.  With this news... what did this mean?  What was next? The mantra question just hung there around us, whispering into my soul.

What, Lord, does freedom look like in the midst of this?  

After we sent out an email to let our prayer partners know of the mass... the email responses began to come in.  Our friends, so many of our friends, were standing with us.  Praying, they wrote.  One after another wrote to us and told us, "We are praying!"  Our family, our friends... they were praying for us. These emails were a sweet balm.  As they came into our inbox, we read them together, prayed and felt the comfort of Father's kids worldwide standing in the gap.  Asking.  Pleading. Praying.

Our friends who live in this foreign land---they cooked for us, shuttled us to and from the hospital, prayed with us.  Laughed with us.  Cried for us.

Freedom looked like being the weak ones---the ones in desperate need of prayer and help.  Freedom looked like the comfort of the Body of Christ.  Freedom looked like unhindered asking... His kids knowing God's heart, His power and the possibilities asking on our behalf.  

For those who follow this blog regularly, or know me personally, you will know I am not a big "crier".  I don't cry easily.   I have often said that I have plenty of tears inside, they just don't seem to make their way out of me!  My crying friends  (which tend to be some of my favorite people) know that I envy them.  I tell my free-to-cry friends often what a gift their tears are to me.  If only... If only I could cry like that!

These past months, though, something beautiful has been shifting in me.  I finally asked a free-crying-friend to pray for me.  I asked her to ask the Lord to give me the gift of tears.  He has been answering.  Slowly but surely, I am crying!  ...weeping, in fact, at times.  I rejoice in this health.  I am still not a "crier"...and I don't anticipate that my personality will change... but, I am more free to allow the heavy, hard, tear-filled pain come and have it's way.  I am finding freedom to feel. Freedom to be sad---deeply sad---I am finding freedom to cry.

What, Lord, does freedom look like in the midst of this?

So, with this horrid, terrifying news, I quietly excused myself to the guest room...and I wept.  I wept freely and with faith that He was with me, He was hearing.  Lament in the purest form... I poured out my heart in tears to the Lord.  Pain,    pain,    pain... that was all the words that came with the tears. Just deep pain.

My baby girl.  My darling baby girl.

Pain. Pain. Pain.

Freedom in the Lord looked like pain and tears for me that night.  Freedom looked like feeling. Lament and surrender wrapped up in pain... there was deep freedom.

48 hours of deep pain...  waiting, watching, feeling...

As we waited in the hospital for the next poke, the gross green-colored juice to drink, and the IV... my daughter began to sing a song.  I don't remember what song it was... but it was quiet and it was worship.  It was surrender.  We joined her and sang.  A quiet singing in the busy, bustling hospital room. Freedom looked like surrender.  Freedom looked like worship.

On January 16th, the very same doctor looked at us and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.  He said he couldn't explain the discrepancy.  The mass was gone.  The CT scan showed a clean, pristine, beautiful abdomen.  No mass.  No problems.  All was "healthy and good" in my girl's abdomen, he said.

It's a miracle!  I said this without really thinking.  It just popped out of my mouth as an exclamation. "We asked Jesus to take it away!" I told him.  He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled.  "There is no mass," he said.

No mass, he said.  These are good, good words.

We walked away with two CDs in our hands:  an ultrasound with a mass and CT scan without a mass.  Walking away with a documented miracle, and deep relief, my daughter and I jumped, danced and cried in the hospital!  Right there in that place, we freely expressed our joy.

Freedom looked like proclamation and witness.  Freedom looked like profession of joy, praise and worship---  Dancing and crying and hugging... looking a bit "mad" I am sure to any on-looker.

As we exited the hospital, aware that we wouldn't be back anytime soon, the phrase came into my heart... He said "yes!"

He said yes...  

I knew that freedom looked like receiving and rejoicing in His "yes" to our asking, our praying, our pleading.  Freedom looked like knowing He sometimes says "no"... but, today, He said yes.   Trusting Him for His answers.  The freedom to ask and to trust His kind, His all-knowing heart...

In this... In this there is freedom.

What Lord does freedom look like in this?  

...freedom looked like being exactly who I am with and in Jesus.  ...Needy and weak.  ...Honest and real.  ...it looked like surrender and worship.  Weeping. lamenting, rejoicing and laughing.  ...freedom looked like asking, hoping, pleading, expecting.  ...freedom looked like receiving and proclaiming.  ...witnessing and trusting.

You Lord, present in the the unknown, the scary, the painful,  the "no" and the "yes".  You, Lord, Present in the lament, the worship and the joy...  You, Lord, are our freedom.  
You are freedom, Jesus.  You.

It is for freedom that I am set free.... (Galatians 5:1)

Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom... (2 Corinthians 3:17)