Chance, or Something Else?

My husband recently wrote a piece entitled "Ten Quotes That Changed My Life."  I was intrigued by the thought as I read it, and my mind has been composing my own list ever since, making me realize my life has indeed been impacted and forever altered because of both written and spoken words.

Coupled with that realization was a recent walk through a bookstore and the face of a book I spotted with a title along the lines of Chance Encounters That Changed My Life.  I didn't pick up the book, but the title started another list of top tens in my mind.  When I pause and consider my life as a timeline, I can see the random encounters with a few people pop up in big, block letters.  It was those "chance" conversations that altered a course, changed my direction. 

The friend who casually invited me to a youth group where I met a youth pastor who invited me to a missions organization's rally where I heard about a group I would eventually travel with to a far-away nation where I would have my life forever marked with a passion for sharing the gospel on foreign soil.

The aquaintance who happened to tell me about a drama team that was auditioning for new members, which I attended and where I met my future husband.

The pastor I met at a friend's wedding rehearsal who would eventually become our pastor and take us under his wing, sending us out to the city in which we lived for fourteen years as leaders of a church plant.

The church meeting we attended at someone else's church and by someone else's suggestion where we happened to buy a book that changed the course of our ministry and gave it sustaining purpose.

Seemingly small conversations that led to big revelations.  Seemingly small events that led to huge changes.

Chance encounters that weren't by chance, after all, but rather part of the big picture we can not see as we live out the minute moments of our lives.

Those life-altering words could happen in the very next phone conversation.  The course of your future could change through one encounter on the very next trip to the grocery store. 

And I find myself wondering if there were others.  Other words, other encounters that I sailed right through, never picking up on their significance, never seeing the stamp of God on the ordinary that was meant to change my life.

So I kneel and pray that I don't miss them. 

I pray my ears will always hear His voice, speaking when I least expect it, "Pay attention to this, baby.  I'm sending these words, this encounter to you, and they come with a gift attached.  Don't miss out on the opening."

And I look forward to the next package, wrapped in the chance encounter.

How to Prepare Your Family for the New Year

"Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it."  - L.M. Montgomery

I grew up reading the Anne of Green Gables series, and even at a tender age, that line fascinated me.  Now that I'm an adult and understand what it means to regret mistakes on a grander scale than when I read those words at age eleven, I appreciate them even more.

And it's that same sentiment that has caused this week to have always been one of my very favorite weeks out of the year.  The last few days in December, when last year stretches behind with all of its memory, its triumphs, and yes, its mistakes, while next year stretches out ahead with all of its invitations and opportunities.  

A fresh start, with no mistakes in it.

I think of it like a giant etch-a-sketch just waiting to be shaken until all the lines disappear.  Some years, I'm pleased with what I've drawn over the last twelve months and just want to tweak a little here and there.  But, if I'm honest, most years I'm ready to hoist that thing over my head and chunk it as far as I can in order to hit the cosmic reset button.  

But, whichever it is, that's the magic of a new year.  Anything can happen.  This really can be the year that I make the changes.

And the crazy thing is, I do.  

Don't give up on me too fast here.  I don't mean to say I make ALL the changes.  I usually start out with a pretty good sized list and whittle it down from there.  And yes, that last sentence is code for saying I buy the gym membership and go four times the first week in January and then not again until October 2nd. But, it doesn't all go that way.  There's most often a few essential things that stick.  And that may not sound like much of an accomplishment, but over time, over the years, those few essentials add up to a lifetime of successively better choices.  They are the building blocks for self-improvement.  And when I apply them to my family, they become the foundation for healthy relationships and good memories.

So, go ahead.  Shake that etch a sketch until you forget that the skinny girl who works the front desk of the gym has no clue what your name is and thought you might be there to sell Girl Scout cookies when you walked in the day after Thanksgiving.  Shake it off.  And then start dialing with the knobs, a little here, and a little there.  And while you do it, see yourself a year from now, doing the same thing again.  Except next time, you'll be a little stronger and a little healthier and a little more joyful than you are right now.  Because you're growing.

Here's a few of the things I like to take stock of during this week.  I don't focus on all of them every year, I just choose the ones I think are most needed and concentrate on coming up with a plan that is attainable.  I also find that writing it down is important, to keep me motivated and to help me track my progress next year.

Self-care:  

• How am I doing at pastoring my own soul?  What do I need to do this year to improve that?  (Click to listen to a podcast where I speak about the practical ways you can do that,)
• How is my body?  What are the simple ways I can begin taking steps to make myself stronger and healthier?
• How is my relationship with God?  In what ways do I want it grow?  In what ways does He want it to grow?  

Family-care:

• How healthy are our relationships?  In what ways can I foster good relationships among us this year?  Do we need to make some different choices to get there?  (Click to read about instituting creative family nights!)
• How healthy are our finances?  Do we need to make some shifts or some sacrifices to get where we need to go with our money?
• How healthy are our conflict resolution skills?  What could we do to focus on solving problems with better communication and less stress?

And beyond:

• What am I most passionate about?  What am I going to do to see that area grow in my life?
• What is causing me the most anxiety?  What am I going to do to see that brought towards a place of peace?
• What can I give away this year?
• What is the most enjoyable thing I can imagine I could do this year?

Fashion Forward

I most often write about the things God is doing and speaking in the quietest places of my heart.  But, today, there's just something I need to confess.  And it seems loud and not very spiritual at all.  But, it has to come out.


I am a fashion mess right now.  I'm not really sure how this happened.  For most of my life, I've been able to look around the room, take stock of the styles and trends represented, and think, "Yep.  Smack in the middle.  Not too far ahead, like a Paris runway model, but not far enough behind to be reppin the Amish runway style."  And I was good with that.  "Just enough to keep up" was kind of my motto, but not so vested that I had to buy a complete new wardrobe next season when whatever current trend that was all the thing became the thing that wasn't the thing anymore.


But, something has happened.  It's not that I'm the Amish runway model, exactly.  I'm just confused.  It's like I went to sleep, woke up, and can't make sense of my closet.  Do my jeans work anymore?  Am I supposed to always roll them?  I did that already, in the eighties, but my old tight-roll method doesn't seem to apply here.  And the boots.  I had just gotten used to the tall boot thing, but now they're short.  Some with the wedges, some with the fringe, but none, apparently, with socks.  So now there's a little gap of skin between my boot and my jeans, which is, by the way, the same crisis I experienced when Jennifer Garner rolled out low rise jeans to American culture on "Alias" and suddenly I looked decidedly much more Amish because I was terrified to follow suit.  First of all, there was the fact that while she rolled it out, she didn't roll out, if you know what I mean.  I, on the other hand, was pretty sure there would be a good deal of rolling if I attempted it.  But, second, there was the other fear that people would see my skin.  And if they thought my face was fair complected, seeing the paleness that is my stomach was going to cause some serious blinding which I might in turn be sued for.  Which is exactly my new problem with that bare skin between my jeans and my boots.  It's white, people.  Really, really white.  Which means if I wear the popular black pants and equally popular black booties, my leg resembles a double stuffed Oreo.


And then there are the off the shoulder tops (we did that back in the "Fame" days of the 80s, too), the geometrical everything, and the necklaces that look strangely like my mom's twisty beads from back in the day.  I just have no idea what to do with all that.  I go shopping and try to buy an outfit that has the "look," and I end up going home with a tea towel and a mall pretzel.


Which is why I'm doing something I would never have done before.  I now subscribe to a service that ships clothes to my house.  It means I have a stylist.  Her name is Erin.  And she looks at my measurements and sends me things that fit.  And what's more, I try them on in my own closet, following her instructions with how to pair things, and strangely like every single thing she sends. 


And the crazy thing is when I look over her choices for me, I usually can't find a one that I would have picked up in the store.  Not a one.  And yet, Erin sends them to me, and they look fabulous.  She is somehow able to discern the look I want (not necessarily trendy, but classically stylish) and piece together the puzzle of my wardrobe with just a couple of new things that really work.  It's like she's able to see where I'm going and get me there without the hindrances of my own self-critiquing brain.  She's gifted, I tell you, gifted.  And lest you think other stylists would be equally as gifted, I'll let you know that the company once tried to change my stylist and the entire shipment was such a disaster that I wrote the equivalent of War and Peace, Fashion Edition in one epic email until they called me and told me Erin would be my stylist again, and forever be my stylist.  I'm serious.  I'm pretty sure they have now doubled Erin's pay and given her a corner styling office just so she'll never leave them for fear of receiving Moby Dick, Fashion Edition in their inbox.


I'm not going to tell you which styling service I use because I'm afraid you'll think I'm getting paid to write a promo for them, but I will share this with you, my one deep and slightly spiritual thought for this shallow rambling.  How many successful options have I passed by over the years because I was confident they weren't for me and would never work?  How many times have I missed the fabulous in favor of the safe and tried and true?  I think the answer to that may be more than I'm comfortable admitting.


I am in fact quite uncomfortable when I think about the times I've refused to try something a lot more important than new jeans for fear that I would look foolish or find out that I'm not good at it.  The times that I've censored myself from success because I was just downright afraid.  The times I've refused to follow the bold longings because I wasn't sure where they would lead.


I wish Erin had a service for that.  But, since she doesn't, I'm going to have to listen to another stylist.  One who knows me better than I know myself.  One who doesn't care what I look like when I'm trying something new.  And One who is confident He can get me where I'm going, if I'll trust Him.

Next

My son is home from college on his fall break.  He brought a friend home with him who needed a place to stay, since he lives across the globe and can't fly back for the few short days of break in the school routine.  It's been good to have them here, sleeping until almost noon and eating all of our food.  Evidently it's really exhausting being a college freshman.


But, what I've loved most is listening to these guys talk and plan for the future.  Next semester's classes.  Next summer's mission trips.  What comes next, after college.


They're in such an exciting time in life.  The time where "next" is wide open and could contain anything.  Nothing is set in stone and nothing is impossible.  And yes, "next" is a little scary, too, since it's wide open and could contain anything.  But, judging from these men's faces, it's more exciting than scary.


And that's where I pause.  Because somewhere in life, excitement for next has a habit of turning into playing it safe.  And playing it safe makes a cozy nest of comfort that becomes hard to leave when it's time to climb the next mountain of next.  And if you choose not to climb the mountain, you become a settler in the village of almost and maybe later.  And if you stay too long in a village like that, you lose it all.  You lose all sense of zest and wonder over what's on the other side of the mountain.  You lose your joy for the journey itself.


If that's where you are right now, I wish I could box up that tangible sense of next that's been permeating my kitchen table between the hours of noon and midnight this last week.  I wish I could  wrap it, add a shiny gift tag, and ship it to you today.  But, that's the thing, isn't it?  Next can't come from someone else.  It can only come from the deep places.  The places that make you who you are.  The places you dream about and share only with those you feel safe.  The places you long for, but sometimes can't even find language to give them shape.


Yet, longings have a way of making themselves known, and so they come out in expressions of joy, bursts of happy that rise up when we see our feet leaving the village and heading toward the mountain trail.  The deep satisfaction that occurs when our lives intersect with purpose that is bigger than the running of errands and writing of checks.  


Frederick Buechner writes, "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." 


And in the very reading of those words, there is a stirring, isn't there?  A sense of beckoning to find the trail that leads over the mountain to the place of your gladness.  To the place where you can pioneer a new village, one that will be a refuge for the weary travelers who come behind you, filling their hunger with good things and helping them find their own deep gladness. 


A place where regret for the years of settling in the village fades away with one question.


What's next?

Transition

I have a bathrobe I adore.  It was once white and it was once fluffy.  It's now mostly white and decidedly unfluffy.  But, I don't mind.  I wear it every morning to shuffle in to the coffee maker.  I put it on every night with my glasses and a messy bun to watch Netflix with my husband.  And sometimes, when I come home on my lunch break, I put it on over my clothes and curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee to just breathe before I head back into life at full speed. 


As much as I'd like to be known for Princess Kate fashion, I have a sinking feeling that if my kids were asked to draw a picture of me, I might be wearing that robe.  And I don't even mind.  In fact, I'm not sure I'll ever get rid of my bathrobe.  I can't.  Because when I put it on, I feel at home.  When I wear that robe, I'm completely, absolutely, 100% comfortable.  And I like that feeling.


It's a feeling I don't have much of at this particular juncture in life.  I am completely, absolutely not comfortable.  Instead, I am in transition.  Transitioning in every conceivable part of life.


Transition.  The process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another. 


The definition doesn't sound like it should be hard.  It sounds clinical, like something you should be able to observe from a distance before remarking, "Success. The subject has now changed."  But, I'm not finding it to be easy or clinical.  I feel more like someone has taken my bathrobe and is holding it hostage indefinitely.


A change in jobs.  A move.  A son going to college.  An uprooting of everything familiar.


New city.  New home.  New assignment.  New relationships. 


They're all big, white, fluffy robes.  Lovely, but untested.  Warm, but unfamiliar.  And I know the only thing standing in between me and comfort is time.  I love my robe because I've had it a long time.  I know it well, and it knows me.  We have mutual respect.  We've been there for each other.  We both smell faintly like my dachshund.


And I can arrive there again, even in a new place.  It just takes time. 


I think that's the reason the clearest word from God I know I've heard during this season of transition is, "Be patient."  It won't happen in one day.  It can't happen in one day.  Very few treasures in life can be purchased in a day.  They take time, which is what makes them treasures in the first place.


And I think that's why He's gone out of His way to hold me.  It's a prayer I often pray.  "Hold me."  In two words, I'm asking Him to come into this moment, into this unsettling place I find myself, into the insecurity and the change.  I'm asking Him to pick me up, wrap His arms around me, and put me on his lap.  I'm asking Him to look me in the eye in the middle of my uncertainty and to let me know it's going to be ok.  I'm asking Him to be the thing, the one thing in my life that never changes.


And He does.  Every single time, He holds me.  And He has never once changed.  His love, His stability, His character, His compassion, His faithfulness.  They have never changed. 


He is the friend who never leaves.  And He never smells like dachshund. 

Ready or Not

I now have an eighteen year old.

I have an eighteen year old.

My son is eighteen years old.

It doesn't matter how I say it or how many times I repeat it, nothing about that sentence makes any sense to my brain.  But, it's happening.  Happened already.  He's eighteen years old.

One of hardest parts is facing the fact that I'm actually old enough to have an eighteen year old.  I vividly remember turning eighteen, being eighteen, loving eighteen.  Eighteen is when I spent two months in Peru, moved to college, met my husband, and started doing grown-up things like voting, buying my license plate tags, and eating salad.  It's the year my parents moved across the nation, and I had to find my own place to live when school let out.  The year I got a real job.  The year I looked into the face of a man who wasn't too much older than me and said yes when he held out a ring with hope in his eyes.

And all of those things are here, waiting for my own child who isn't a child any more.  All of those experiences, those decisions, those learning curves, they are all lined up like mile markers in front of him because he is eighteen years old.  My son is eighteen years old.  

And I know it's not like his life is just beginning.  It's not that he's at mile one.  He's had eighteen years worth of mile markers to prepare him for this.

The first step.  The first word.  The first french fry, which I distinctly remember celebrating.  The first day of school.  The day he decided to follow Jesus.  The first week-long youth camp.  The first time he knew more math than I did, which happened closer to the french fry than the youth camp.  The first crush.  The first time he pulled out of the driveway on his own. 

They all got us here, to eighteen.  And they all made him ready to move forward.  To vote, move to college, meet someone special, eat salad.

I'm just not sure they've done anything to make me ready.

And yet, it doesn't matter.  The eighteen year old mile markers are here if I'm ready or not.  And all I know to do is the one thing I know I've learned being a mom.  I pray.  

I pray that the God who walked me through my own mile markers will hold the hand of my son and lead him through every one of life's experiences that will start coming faster and faster in this new season.  

I pray he will have courage to make the tough choices in a way that honors the God he loves.

And I pray that the God who gave me this child to begin with will hold my heart when the man he has become walks away from me.  

I pray I will have the courage to cheer him on from a distance as he faces the mile markers that don't require me to be beside him anymore.

My son is eighteen years old.

New Seeds

For the past couple of years, my husband and I have made it a priority to get a way during the month of December to spend some time together.  It's a hectic, crazy time of the year to try to carve out a couple of days, but we are discovering it's actually a wonderful time to do it. 

Because disconnecting from the noise at the end of the year makes it easier to start fresh in a new year.  We've had some late night talks, a romantic one by a fire and a humorous one by a space heater, where we've emptied our souls of the clutter and kindled some new dreams.  We've asked each other uncomfortable questions, laughed together, and prayed together.  And somehow, on the other side, we were ready.  Ready to plow into a new season, confident we're playing on the same team.

It's been a blessing to see the fruit of this simple act in my marriage, but I was even more surprised to discover that for the last couple of years, the same thing has been happening in my relationship with my God.  Somehow in the turning of the calendar page from one year to the next, He speaks.  And I have learned to treasure standing under the spigot of words that flows from His mouth.  Just as Mary "stored up all these things and pondered them in her heart," I want to take each word that comes from the Father and tuck them away in the storehouse of my soul, to take them out again and turn them over and over until they become more than words, but seeds.  Seeds for new things. 

Because the Lord loves new things.  He loves to take the tired and worn out, the cracked and broken, or even just the familiar and comfortable...and breathe life into them, turning them inside out, and calling forth a new work from an old vessel. 

And so my prayer is that I will not cling to the lifeless shell of last season's seed, but allow Him to bury within me a new one. 

And then for Him to do it again.

"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."  - Isaiah 43:19

Author's Note: If you are looking for some resources for the new year to deepen your time under the spigot of His voice, I would recommend these.  I have provided links for where they may be purchased online.  Have a blessed and fruit bearing 2015!

FOR WOMEN:

• The "Quiet Times for the Heart" series by Catherine Martin.  There are several books in this series, but the one I have linked to at Amazon here addresses specifically how to grow in intimacy with the Lord.
• "Road Signs" Bible Study, an 8 week DVD course that is written/produced by my friend Paige Allen (she was a guest speaker here for us last year).  Our ladies' lifegroup just completed this study, and it was a big blessing for many women.  The link will take you to the order page.  You can toggle to choose one book or one DVD/book.  (If money is tight for you, you can purchase just a book and borrow a DVD from me!)

 

FOR MEN:

 

• Knowing the Heart of God:  A Year of Devotional Readings to Help You Abide in Him by John Eldredge.  Nobody speaks to the male mind quite like John Eldredge!

 

FOR EITHER MEN OR WOMEN:

• Sparkling Gems from the Greek:  365 Greek Word Studies to Sharpen Your Understanding of the Word by Rick Renner.  It sounds intimidating, but it's not.  A favorite of mine that I go back to again and again.
• Beautiful Outlaw:  Discovering the Playful, Disruptive, Extravagant Personality of Jesus by John Eldredge.  It's not a devotional book, but it's one that I read last year that made me fall in love with Jesus all over again!

 

If this an area of needed growth, please don't delay in pressing in.  Whenever my time with the Lord grows a little distant, I find that being aggressive and, often, finding a new resource, will bring fresh life and clarity to my ability to hear from Him.  Don't let your love grow cold!  Invest in it.

Advent Devotional, Week Two

Author's Note:  This is part two of a four part Advent devotional series for families here at Treasure the Ordinary.  May you be blessed as each of you find ways to prepare your hearts for the celebration of our King's birth.  Merry Christmas!


Week 2 Advent Devotional - "Security"

Opening Question: What is something you don't like to do alone?  (Parents, with younger children, you can go first to set the tone.  Example:  folding sheets, going to the dentist, etc.)

ASK [younger children]:  What are some of the names we studied last week that Jesus is called?  (Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace)

ASK [older children]:  Has the Lord done anything else in your heart regarding names/labels after we talked about it last week?

During our time together today, we are going to look at one more name Jesus is called.  It was prophesied in the Old Testament in the book of Isaiah, chapter 7.  It's mentioned again in the book of Matthew after Jesus was born.

 

READ: “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel”—which means, “God with us.” – Matthew 1:22-23

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem, it meant that He had left His Father's home in Heaven and come to live with us here on earth.  He chose to put on a body like ours and come live here with people so that He could show us how to become God's children.  

After He died, He went back to Heaven to stay with God there.  But, He really didn't leave us, because He sent someone to stay with us here until He comes back to get us.

 

ASK:  Who did He send to stay here with us?  (the Holy Spirit) 

[Older children can read John 15 with you at this point in the discussion.  Help them make the connection that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Christ, who lives within us 24/7.]

ASK:  If God is Emmanuel, and His spirit is with us at all times, are we ever truly alone?   Why do we FEEL alone sometimes?  (we forget He's there, we don't stop to listen to His voice, we have trouble seeing/understanding what He's doing, etc.)

No matter what we feel, the promise of God is that Jesus is "God with us."  This means He was with us years ago when we were born, He's with us right now, and He will be waiting for us in our tomorrow.


ASK:  [younger children]  How can we remember God's promise that He's always with us?  [Consider having each child make a poster to hang close to their bed that shows God is with them, even when they feel like they are alone.]


ASK:  [older children]  Which one of these means the most to you right now?  That God was in your past, that He's in your present, or that He will be in your future?

 

Close with prayer over your children.  Parents, this is a great opportunity to talk to your children about the fact that God will always be with them, and that you are also available to them when they need to talk or when they feel alone.  Let them know that is why God puts people in families, so that they are not lonely.  (Ps. 68:6)

Advent Devotional, Week One

Author's Note:  As a mother of four children, spread out in ages by 7 years from the oldest to the youngest, I have often felt that family devotionals either speak to my younger children or speak to my older children.  It's sometimes difficult to engineer a discussion that involves them all.  So, this Christmas, I would like to provide my readers with an Advent resource that can potentially spark dialogue with all the people in your house, no matter what their age! 

To that end, I will be posting a family devotional, one for each week of Advent, throughout the month of December.  May you be blessed as each of you find ways to prepare your hearts for the celebration of our King's birth.  Merry Christmas!

Week 1 Advent Devotional - "Identity"

Opening Question: What is your favorite nickname you’ve ever been given?

Begin by showing your younger children the two sections of the Bible, the Old Testament and the New Testament. 

ASK [younger children]:  Which part of the Bible do we find stories about Jesus?  (New Testament)

ASK [older children]:  Which part of the Bible is your favorite to read, the Old Testament, or the New Testament?  Why?

It's true that the stories of Jesus are found in the New Testament, but the Old Testament talks about Him, too!  It may not use the name Jesus, but it does mention other names that Jesus goes by.  Just like you have a nickname (refer to your child's name here), Jesus has other names.  And when they are mentioned, we know God is talking about His son, Jesus.  See if you can find His names in this Scripture from the Old Testament.

 

READ:  “For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.  He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever.  The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.”  Isaiah 9:6-7

WRITE:  Let the children write the names of Jesus down on a piece of paper as they find them in the Scripture.  They may enjoy decorating it.  When you're finished with the devotional, hang this in a place they will see it throughout the week.

ASK [younger children]:  Were these good nicknames for Jesus?  How is He these things?

ASK [older children]:  Which of these names of Jesus is meaning the most to you in your life right now and why?

*  If you have younger children, this could be a good place to pray out loud as a family, giving thanks for the way Jesus is these things in your lives.  Older children can continue on with the following discussion.

When people give nicknames, it's often meant to tease or poke fun.  When God gives nicknames, it's to build people up.  He changed Abram ("Father") to Abraham ("Father of Many").  He changed Jacob ("Deceiver") to Israel ("Prince of God").  He changed Simon ("Reed") to Peter ("Rock.")

ASK:  Is there a label you've been given by the world that makes you feel small?  It might be a nickname, but it might also just be an attitude that you feel other people associate with you (i.e.  lazy, nerdy, etc.). 

READ:  "Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it."  - Revelation 2:17

There will be a day when God will let you know your name that He has for only YOU!  You may not know exactly what the name is right now, but you can get to know His heart for you and what He thinks about you.  Let's pray and ask Him to speak to us tonight about what He calls each of us.  Let's allow that to take precedence in our hearts over anything the world or other people might try to label us.

Close with prayer over your children.  Parents, this is a great opportunity to bless your children with words of life!

Still In It

Today is the last day our house will have a child in the single digits.  Tomorrow, the youngest turns 10. 

She is thrilled. 

Her mama is trying to be thrilled.

I love this season we are in, with children getting older, able to do things we've never done before, having conversations we've never had before, laughing together at things they've never understood before.  The most enjoyment I've ever had as a parent has been this last year or so, seeing each of them beginning to embrace the individuality of who God has created them to be.

And yet, a pause is necessary to reflect on what will happen tomorrow.

A page will be turned.

A new chapter will begin.

There are no little ones in our house any longer.  They are big people, dreaming big dreams, doing big things.

But, I know it's not over.  We are in this parenting thing for awhile. 

Because they are also still making big piles of laundry.

So, tonight, as I tuck in a nine year old for the very last time, I will hold her close and do my best not to cry until I close the door. 

And then I'll go start another load of laundry.

It Takes All Kinds

Our family came across a poster this last week that caused a good laugh in our house.  It read, "Introverts UNITE.....separately....in your own rooms."

Because we have a full house of six people that is also pretty evenly divided when it comes to introverts and extroverts, we could see the humor.  The extrovert bunch love to go and do, they love crowds, and they are energized by being around people.  The introvert bunch loves the moments of solitude (hard to come by in a house our size), intimate moments with close friends, and being energized by quiet reflection and creative endeavors.

Neither are wrong.  Just different from each other.

But, I also came across a passage by theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer this week that carries a warning to both.

“Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. He will only do harm to himself and to the community. Alone you stood before God when he called you; alone you had to answer that call; alone you had to struggle and pray; and alone you will die and give an account to God. You cannot escape from yourself; for God has singled you out. If you refuse to be alone you are rejecting Christ’s call to you, and you can have no part in the community of those who are called.”

“But the reverse is also true. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone.  Into the community you were called, the call was not meant for you alone; in the community of the called you bear your cross, you struggle, you pray. You are not alone, even in death, and on the Last Day you will be only one member of the great congregation of Jesus Christ. If you scorn the fellowship of the brethren, you reject the call of Jesus Christ, and thus your solitude can only be hurtful to you.”

“We recognize, then, that only as we are within the fellowship can we be alone, and only he that is alone can live in the fellowship. Only in the fellowship do we learn to be rightly alone and only in aloneness do we learn to live rightly in the fellowship."

“Let him who cannot be alone beware of community. Let him who is not in community beware of being alone.”       (from Life Together, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

So, like everything else in life, balance is required. 

My introverted self needs community to be sharpened.  My extroverted friends need some quiet time to deal with their own hearts.

And we get to live life together...just sometimes in our own rooms.

More Than Getting Older

My pastor husband made me ask myself a startling question in his sermon on Sunday.  It caused me to pause.  It caused me some discomfort.  It caused me to keep asking it of myself until I had an answer.

Am I growing in maturity?

I am obviously growing older.  My ability to bounce back from a night spent sleeping on the floor testifies of that.

But, am I maturing?  And much more specifically, am I maturing in my spiritual life?

I like to think of myself as a mature Christian.  I have for years now.  But, that simple question caused me to dig deep and sincerely evaluate my own growth.  It's not enough to be a "mature" Christian.  I need to be a "maturing" one.

And over the last three days, the Lord has been gracious to help me answer the question.  Yes, I am maturing.  But, I could be maturing faster if I would allow Him more room to work.  And that's going to cost me something.

It's going to cost a little more self-honesty.

It's going to cost some humility.

It's going to cost some time.

Because there are some trouble spots in my Christian walk.  Some places that I keep having to "go around the bush" again and again.  Some areas that I find myself repenting and starting over once more instead of being able to walk a new road, blaze a new trail in my spiritual thinking.

And it's these spots that need my honesty, some humility, and some time.

When I look back over my spiritual "maturing," I can see I've grown the most when I had an actual plan for growth.  When I submitted my thoughts to the Lord, received His response in return, and we hashed out a new way of looking at something together.

It's this pattern I want to see reproduced in my life.  This constant communication with the One who cares about my growth because of His great love for me.

That's why I'll be talking to Him about my trouble spots this week.  And coming up with a plan for growth. 

Because when I'm growing in maturity, I'm looking more and more like who I was born to be, and less and less like the flesh I won't settle for.

"Meanwhile, Jesus kept on growing wiser and more mature, and in favor with God and his fellow man."   - Luke 2:52 (ISV)

Looking Forward

Our oldest turned sixteen last Sunday.  It's taken me a week to wrap my head around that.

Sixteen.

I remember turning sixteen.  I remember writing in my diary that night that a woman had told me she wished she was sixteen again.  I felt sorry for her and told my future self not to live looking backwards. 

And now my son is sixteen. 

He was born two weeks early, we brought him home wrapped up in a blanket on a hot August afternoon, we blinked, and now I'm calling to schedule his driver's test.

And I'm so proud.

And I'm so thrilled.

And I'm so sad.

And I'm so very desperate.

Desperate to remember the here and the now because I never thought I'd forget how soft his baby skin was or what his toddler voice sounded like, but now they are memories that are hard to conjure up.  And I don't want today to become the hard to remember moments of tomorrow.

And yet that's how life works.  Time really does march on.  Memories  really do fade.  And we are left with the new here and now.

So my sixteen year old self might have had the right idea.  I can't live looking backwards, trying to hold on to the moment that was meant to be enjoyed in the moment. 

But, I can love this moment.  And I can love the next moment. 

And I can treasure the young man who will be pulling out of our driveway all alone this week.  And I can tell my arms that are aching to hold the baby version of him one more time that it's not over. 

It's never over.

There will always be the here and now.

And when the here and now moves into eternity, I know beyond a shadow of doubting these arms will find their way around this boy of mine and his brothers and his sister. 

And I'm really going to love that moment.

The Necessary Ache

Tonight, I tucked in an eight year old for the very last time.  Tomorrow, she turns nine.  And she's our last.

Which means we are to the "half way" point with our youngest.

And this mama heart of mine is full of gratitude for the joy these kids bring and at the same time full of something that makes my throat hurt. 

We are hurtling through time and space, these kids and their Daddy and me, flying past one milestone after another.  It's all a blur of growing and stretching and learning and messing up and learning some more and talking it through and laughing and learning some more and crying and holding and letting go and learning some more.

So the something in my throat that hurts is needed.

To make me stop. 

And breathe. 

And take it all in. 

And store up the memory. 

So that when I plunge back in to learn some more, I remember why we're doing this after all.

Porch Ponderings

I have a bad feeling the following confession makes me a lazy dog owner:  My favorite way to play fetch with our doggie is in the dark.  Not because it's more fun for her, but because she can't find her fetch toy in the dark.

And oh the joy of sitting on the porch in peace while she searches high and low.

Terrible, I know.  But, she really could avoid the trauma of the fifteen minute search if she would just get smart.  As it is, every time she sees me stand to throw the toy, she takes off running in any direction that strikes her fancy at the moment.  Not once has she ever waited to watch me throw the toy to see which direction it took flight.  Not once has she ever paused to listen for where the soft thud comes from as it lands.

Nope, she's already gone, usually sniffing in the complete opposite direction from where she needed to run.

And there I've sat many a night, drinking my coffee, often giggling to myself at her persistence in the search.  She usually finds it after a long time, but sometimes I eventually have to help her, walking over to where it sits. 

It's always been funny to me.  Until last night.

Because last night, it occurred to me to wonder if God sometimes finds himself sitting on His porch, wondering when I will take the time to ask Him what His plans are before I rush out to accomplish my own.

How many times has He wished I would pause and see which direction He is heading? 

How many times has He needed me to stop and listen to His voice instead of plunging ahead into darkness?

How many times has He had to come redirect my path to avoid the dangers I couldn't see or lead me to the blessings He had waiting for me?

I don't think I'll stop playing fetch in the dark with my sweet dog.  But, I'm thinking from now on I'll use those quiet moments on the porch to ask God what He's up to. 

And then I'll spend the rest of the time just listening.

Why Hope Exists for Less of Me and More of Him

There is a verse of Scripture jostling around in my spirit today.  A verse that speaks of my Jesus. 

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin."  Hebrews 4:15

I love this verse because it removes the "God card" factor.  Jesus didn't just play a God card and exempt himself from the possibility of sin.  No.  He was tempted.  In every way I have been tempted, and then some.  And at levels I have never had to face, for he was tempted by the destroyer himself, face to face.  (Matthew 4)

But, he's been there.  His heart has been tempted the way mine has. 

I sometimes imagine it.

When he saw his cousin beheaded, was he tempted to give in to disappointment and let a seed of bitterness sprout?

When his own hometown, his family and friends, could not see past his "ordinariness" and rejected his claims to be the Messiah, was he tempted to give in to anger and let a root of unforgiveness grow?

When the teachers of the law struck his face and spit on him, crying out that he was blaspheming the very name he shared with His father, was he tempted to give in to hopelessness for their redemption and let the tree of mankind wither and die?

When he was all alone in the garden, knowing the cross was coming the next day, was he tempted to tell God He didn't want to do it His way anymore?

These are real situations Jesus found himself in.  Real people he had to look in the face.  Real heart issues that so easily ensnare.

I find myself there all the time.

When God doesn't do what I thought He would do.

When people aren't as mature as I thought they were.

When someone assumes the worst about my intentions.

When my way looks better...or just easier...or just satisfies my wants more than His does.

And I don't always handle it the way He did.  For He didn't sin.

Oh, my Jesus, how I love you for that.  You could have, and you didn't.  You showed me it can be done.  And then you died for the times I would try to follow in your footsteps and fail. 

And today I have hope.  Because You did it.  Because You're still whispering that I can learn.