Into the woods
Walk on…
This way…
Growth
Your turn
Give me love
Faith
Doing dishes is a waste of time. They just grow back!
I’ve decided that doing dishes is a waste of time. They just grow back! Especially in my house with teenagers and their smaller siblings running rampant. They hide in dark corners and conspire about how to get yet ANOTHER cup when my back is turned. And it doesn’t help that the older ones have learned to cook. I come home from work to find that they’ve become creative gourmets without the aid of a full-time dishwasher. Granted, they are old enough that I can pull the “I’m the mom and YOU can do the dishes” card. But still, the reality exists that there are always dirty dishes around no matter how many times we wash them.
Life is like that. We do the same things over and over. We sleep, we wake, we eat, we read our Bibles, say our prayers, work, talk to friends, drive the same roads, cuddle with our kids, laugh, eat again, pay the bills, empty the pantry, go to the grocery store, come back home, lather, rinse, repeat…and it’s wonderful. Somehow, in the midst of the sameness, there’s always an adventure. There’s joy and comfort. We humans like consistency after all.
Our spiritual lives echo this pattern. We die to ourselves daily (1 Cor. 15:31). We read the same Bible over and over and never even begin to exhaust its bounty. We pray daily and it continues to refresh and revive us. We “repent and do the first works” (Rev. 2:5) um, more than once. The cool thing is that no matter how many times we blow it and dirty things up, there’s always a dishwasher. His grace is sufficient for me! (2 Cor. 12:9)
Okay, maybe doing dishes isn’t such a waste of time after all.
Behind the Broken Glass
I’m standing in a room alone. It’s dark, foggy, shadowy and gray. Before me, a mirror stands singularly. It’s the centerpiece of the room. It’s as if my presence there is more triviality than importance. Everything revolves around this monument of reflective glass. It haunts me.
Though it has no voice, I can almost hear it calling me into its solitary world. The room begins to spin. I hear jeers and laughter. Whispers from the past combine into dissonant noise that surrounds me, spinning, spiraling with noxious intent. They wrap me up and I find myself face to face with this fragile monster and I allow myself to look deeply.
The image before me is clear at first, just plain ol’ me with my pale, freckled skin, sharp features, ordinary hair, small, uneventful eyes, thin lips. As I stare, the image begins to change before me. From my perspective, it’s as if it’s zooming in and becoming clearer. It feels as though I’m really seeing myself for the first time. Every line, dimple and extra pound expands. I never realized how much weight I’d really accumulated with my last pregnancy. I’d never realized how pallid and sallow looking my skin had become. My long, natural hair used to be beautiful and flowing. I always thought it was lovely. Now it looks stringy, unkempt and dull. I feel as if there should be a law about letting oneself look like this. What have I allowed myself to become? 
From the other side, I see this whole scene unfold. Suddenly, I’m an outside observer watching the event as if it were a movie playing in 3D. I still feel everything but reality is with me and I am aware.
As she stands before the mirror the glass shifts and shakes, contorting slowly, imperceptibly to her. Cracks and jagged, broken edges jut out in various places causing her reflection to look more like something she might see in a fun house mirror than true form.
I’m standing behind the broken glass watching her weary face, hearing her thoughts as she contemplates her new diet and exercise program (which will start TOMORROW). I feel her shame. She wants to hide, to blend in with the crowd just outside this room and pray they don’t see her at all. If she can avoid being seen until she fixes everything wrong with her, maybe she’ll be okay. Maybe the monster will release her from this prison. But some things she can’t change. What then?
From behind the broken glass, I see her. I see who she really is. She is beautiful. I see her dignity, her faith, her strength, the sparkle in her eye, the grace in her smile. She is so much more than the lies the mirror keeps telling her.
I reach through the glass with both hands wide. I call to her. I take her hand and help her through to the other side.
Suddenly, the room is clear. The fog and gray are now light and clarity. I open my eyes, whole. I am home. I can still feel the glass like a distant presence. I know it’s there. I know it will fight to pull me in again but I am no longer afraid. I know now it’s broken. It has no hold on me.
Now I will look for it. When I see it appear, maybe I can have the opportunity to reach through and help another captured soul through to the other side. Behind the broken glass there is a world of freedom.
Keep it Simple
I can be so forgetful! I am stubborn and independent in nature. I have this way of going about life as if it were solely mine to live, as if I can handle everything just fine by myself. The weight and responsibility of the world rest upon my shoulders alone. The earth and all its inhabitants are at the mercy of my strength and abilities. God help us all!
I’m sure you’ve already guessed that this trait can tend to get me into trouble from time to time. If nothing else, it leads to my becoming overwhelmed and having mini meltdowns every now and then. The meltdown episodes serve as reminders that I was not designed to hold the world in orbit or pull the stars into position. Whey my best efforts drive me and everything around me into chaos, I remember to cry out for help.
Psalm 116:1-7 “I love the Lord, because He has heard my voice and my supplications. Because He has inclined His ear to me, Therefore I will call upon Him as long as I live. The pains of death surrounded me, And the pangs of Sheol laid hold of me; I found trouble and sorrow. Then I called upon the name of the Lord: ‘O Lord, I implore You, deliver my soul!’ Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; Yes, our God is merciful. The Lord preserves the simple; I was brought low, and He saved me. Return to your rest, O my soul, For the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.”
Inevitably, there will be times when I find trouble and sorrow. Sometimes it’s my own fault for trying to do everything my way. Sometimes it’s just life doing what it does…throwing a curve ball or two my way or blasting me out of the current all alone and seeing what I do next. (See the following video to understand the last reference)
I hope and pray that when trouble surrounds I remember to look up. When I call upon the Lord, He hears me. He is gracious and merciful despite my simplicity of mind. When I keep it simple and remember to remember Him, He reminds me that I can stop trying to conquer and vanquish every obstacle and simply return to my rest. I can trust His ability to carry me through everything. He protects and preserves me, meets my every need and has dealt bountifully with me. I can rest in Him.
Today I will resolve to keep it simple. I will slow down, take a deep breath, say a prayer of thankfulness, drink a cup or two (or pot) of coffee, relax and go about my day with the confidence that I can do everything I’ve been called to do in Him and that’s totally awesome!
Book Blessings
A good book is both a blessing and a curse. I love a good book! There’s something enchanting about getting lost in the pages, absorbing the verbiage. I’m completely elated by the inspiration and revelation I gain and gather up like a proud mama rounding her little ones up. I’m in love with well spoken words and poignant metaphors. I gobble up good books.
That’s where the curse comes in, I often become so engrossed that I neglect all of my domestic duties. Who wants to do laundry and dishes when there’s a book on the table calling out, begging to be the center of attention? This is especially troublesome when I get close to the end. I always reason with myself that it’s better to just finish it up so I can accomplish something. Of course, when I’m finished with one good book, it inevitably leads to beginning another…and the cycle continues.
One might think that such a pattern would enhance great knowledge and wisdom. On the contrary, I find that the more I read, the more I realize I don’t know as much as I thought I did. This realization only leads me to seek more knowledge and read another book. Maybe learning to acknowledge that I know little is wisdom after all.
Ah, and then there’s the sensory benefits of a good book. I love old books! I love the way they look. I love the way they smell. I become giddy when I walk into old libraries. I can feel the history awakening joy deep within my soul. The curse in this is that I long ago ran out of shelf space to house my expansive book collection and needed an intervention from my husband to convince me that I probably didn’t need to hang on to EVERY book that makes its way through my open hands. I’m forcing myself to avoid the bookstore and embrace the library and even (gasp) read Ebooks instead.
I know I’m not alone in this love affair. I’m sure many of you also put off mundane things for a little more time curled up on the couch with the written word. My daughter is the perfect example of this. I know that I shouldn’t plan on seeing much of her after a trip to the library. Even if she is in the room with us, she will be so engrossed in the book before her that she won’t hear anything else happening around her. I love this about her though I have to remind myself of that occasionally when I’ve repeated her name louder and louder ten times trying to pull her out of her trance to come to dinner.
As in everything else in my life, I’m attempting to learn balance. I hope to learn to accomplish great things and still fulfill my calling as a wife, mother and servant of the Lord while being able to devour every good book I come in contact with. I’m optimistic that this is an attainable goal. So I “press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:14) With book in hand and appetite steadily growing, I will accomplish great things today. Happy reading everyone!
Unruly Tongue
From the outside looking in (or the inside looking out) I find myself wondering why I’m saying what I’m saying.
It’s that crazy moment when the spirit is screaming for me to zip the lip and I’m still going and realizing somewhere in the middle that I already regret what I let slip out.
Ah, unruly tongue, I want to wrangle you. I’d like to wrap my arms around the python and squeeze. Maybe it’s to prove that I have mastery over me. Maybe I’d like to show some fruit instead of being a cursed fig tree. Maybe I just don’t like messing up. Whatever the reason, can I undo what I’ve done? Can I suck the words back into my lungs and pretend it never happened?
“But no man can tame the tongue. It is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison” James 3:8
At the end of the day, there’s grace. I’ll stand up again, awake and ready. I’ll try to tame my mouth but the truth is, I am utterly dependent on the Comforter. Only the Holy Spirit can remind me to wrangle my words and reveal to me the truth about my heart. He is my ever-present help. Through him I can make it through this crazy world with tongue and flesh in check, ready to lay my life down again on the altar of grace.
Then when I’ve messed it all up, he wraps me up in his love, showers me with mercy and covers me with peace. I can’t help but fall more in love with him daily. So I’ll press on today with this my goal, “O Lord, open my lips,And my mouth shall show forth Your praise.” Psalm 51:15. Maybe today I’ll learn to bite my tongue a little harder before it bites me.
Lazy Soldier
My quiet time is evolving. Where I once sat cozy on the couch with coffee on the table beside me and a mountain of books, three different translations of the Bible, a devotional, whatever Christian living book I happened to be in the middle of etc., now I sit with baby on one arm and tablet or IPhone in the other perusing my Bible app and the R.A. Torrey book I downloaded with my Kindle. I sneak in verses from the “real” paper and binding version of the Bible here and there throughout the day when passing by. It’s not bad, just a different experience.
This morning I was reading in Jeremiah and then Matthew and what kept coming to me was that the amount of relationship we have with God is entirely up to us. He constantly encourages us to seek Him. In that, in our seeking, He is faithful to be found and to draw near to us. We hold in our hands the ability to either be near Him or distant. Not the most earth shattering revelation but as I adjust to my new routine, I find myself needing to sneak in moments of intimacy with the Lord. I have to grab a scripture here and there instead of spending an hour soaking up the richness of the word. I have to remind myself to pray when I’m glued to the chair being a mommy. All of the sudden, my relationship and intimacy with God isn’t easy or easily attained. I have to dig for it. I have to seek and pursue and want it desperately, something that admittedly, I forget to do sometimes. I’m starting to think this is a good thing.
“As we advance in life it becomes more and more difficult, but in fighting the difficulties the inmost strength of the heart is developed.” – Vincent Van Gogh
“And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.” Matthew 11:12
We tend to fight for and work for the things that matter the most to us. I so often hear people complain that they have no time to read the Bible or no time to pray and I can understand this completely. It is difficult to carve out moments in the day when the demands of this world can be stilled in the mind long enough to truly focus on scripture. It is difficult to silence the voices of this world that press into our minds (all the things to be done, all the things said to us, all the happenings around us) long enough to engage in active and meaningful prayer. I contend that in those difficulties, we can attain the greatest prize. We, with violent persistence, can resolve to fight for that which really matters. We tiptoe clumsily through this mundane existence, watching life go by us and forget that this is merely a drop in the ocean of eternity. This life, this here and now, is fleeting and only that which is eternal will matter. Shouldn’t we diligently fight to find those moments of clarity? Shouldn’t we run with all that we are to the wellspring and remember to drink deep?
I fear I have become a lazy soldier. I pray today that I will begin to violently run toward that which matters. I pray that in that pursuit, I might become strong. I pray that in ALL things, I would learn to seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness. At the end of the day, that is the prize and nothing else matters.
Welcome
It’s been awhile since I took a moment to stop and spend a few moments at the keyboard. This is mainly due to the odious fact that in times when I need to release that spark of divine thought the most, I am tempted and often accede to occupying my mind with lesser things that require no thought or even slight use of intellect. Instead of tapping into the source of comfort, I so often delve into the well of apathy, a quality I wish I could observe like a speck in someone else’s eye rather than staring blankly at the beam obstructing my own. Either way, it’s been an eventful couple of weeks.
One week ago, I gave birth to my fourth child. He’s heaven wrapped up in baby skin so soft and kissable that I am forced by a power so much greater than me, to stop and breathe him in. I revel in tiny fingernails and the way he can spread and curl his toes. It is another reminder in this dilapidated world, that God not only exists, but creates with brilliant stroke, the most beautiful artwork. His hand reaches into the deep and molds and fashions perfection.
I recently heard of a study which showed a high percentage of people turned to faith in God after having a child because they felt they had witnessed a miracle. Truly, they have. My mind reels at the thought of someone looking into the marvel that is childbirth and a newly birthed baby and walking away unconvinced that there is a creator.
I write this now, with baby in one arm, partly to share our joy with you and partly to remind myself in the days to come, that I cannot forget to pour out that which is in me. Only in releasing what is given, can I attain more. Only in attaining fresh vision and revelation, can I continue to grow. Only in growth, can I teach or inspire those around me, my children, my sphere of influence.
Welcome little one! I am so in love!
Fortress
II Samuel 22:2 ““The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer“
There are days when my strength deceives me
I can manufacture the ability to stand my ground
I can rely on myself or those around me wrapped in skin
I grow tired
There are days the wind blows hard
I fight against it
I climb
I stumble
I fall
You pick me up and hide me in the cleft of the rock
Safe in your fortress, I surrender
I find rest
My back aches, my feet are tired and I am weary
Carry me
Perspective
Photo by Rachel Woodland (my daughter)
The sun sits full above the earth beneath. The day is in motion, bustling as my list gets longer though I work through tasks one by one. I am taking this moment to still myself and realize how blessed I truly am. Tiny baby feet kick my middle filling my heart with love and the knowledge that everything’s okay. The older kids are off to school and I know I’ll see their smiles soon and have a chance to hug them and laugh with them.
We sold my old van yesterday…the one I refused to drive at some point because it was just too unreliable and I wanted better. We sold it for the amount the junk yard was willing to pay us for the scrap metal. The family that picked it up was so thankful and appreciative and felt privileged to be able to drive it home. We told them about every problem it had, every hiccup, the fact that the a/c was broken and the passenger’s side window couldn’t be rolled down because it wouldn’t go back up, the missing headliner, yet they talked about how they’d never let the kids eat in it and mess it up, how precious a blessing it was to them. I realized our perspective was skewed. I realized how blessed I truly am.
The funny thing is that I can remember the days when there wasn’t food in the pantry and the car didn’t run and the floors had holes and the house had rats. I remember the beans and cornbread for weeks straight because that was all we could afford. When I lost perspective I don’t know, but somehow I forgot to remember to be thankful for the blessings I have now. Worldly possessions matter so little, but I can so easily take them for granted or worry about how we’re going to pay for the baby that’s on the way or whatever.
Yet here I am, in my comfortable home, with clothes on my back, food in the kitchen, transportation in the driveway, kids that amaze me daily, a husband who overwhelms me with love, a new baby bouncing to the rhythm of the keys as I type reminding me of life and new beginnings; and I can become overwhelmed by the trivial.
Lord, let me never forget to thank you. Let me stop when the hectic hits and gain a little perspective. Let me remember to hold everything in my life with an open hand realizing that it all belongs to you. Let me give freely and love deeply. Let me surrender everything for the sake of your kingdom. All you ever asked for was all of me and I am yours.
INSPIRED BY THE COMFORTER 