Stop, Still, and Listen

My little one kept leaning forward, looking over the bench.  After many attempts to hold him back while I laced up my tennis shoes, I heard myself.  Stop Blake!  Sit still.  Listen to me.  Do you want to fall?  I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt!  Now, before you think I'm completely ridiculous for speaking to a one-year-old, who's just learning words, as if he'd understand me, let me assure you:  I already know!  I heard myself and laughed almost immediately.  But, then I heard the words again, inside my own heart.  Stop!  Sit still.  Listen to me.  Do you want to fall?  Because...I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt.  

I heard those words in my own heart, as if God had said them.  Then I realized that he has said those words to me, many times over.  Stop.  Sit still.  Be still.  Listen to me.  I love you and what I want for you is for your good.  I don't want you to lean past me or go ahead of me.  I am trying to keep you from being hurt.  But how often do I listen?  How often do I trust that he wants the best for me?  How often do I believe that he really cares whether I fall or not?  Ouch!  The not-so-pretty reality is that I find myself, at times, in a place where I need to go back to the basics of trust.  Pure trust.

For me (and for most of us), trusting in my Heavenly Father is linked to a slew of other life issues, experiences, and relationships...and how I have perceived them.  I wish it was easier.  I wish I could trust inherently.  But, that's not the case.  I read a statement earlier that confronted me, once more, with the struggle that I face again and again:  Until we settle what we believe is true about God's character, we will always question his motives.*  

In this, I am like a little child, learning to trust and fully believe that my parents want to keep me from hurt and harm...that they want the best for me.  They aren't simply trying to rain on my parade.  My one-year-old is learning the word no, but he doesn't like it.  There are adventures in cabinets and under furniture and leaning over benches that he would like to have.  But he has to learn to trust that I see the bigger picture.  I see what can happen if he leans too far over the bench.  He has to learn to listen to my voice.

The hilarious irony for me is that I don't want full-rein of my life; I find great comfort in knowing there is a God who is ultimately the author of it all. Yet, at times I fail to believe that he wants the best for me.  Sadder still, at times I doubt his love for me.  When I have moved ahead of him--when I have chosen to take the reins rather than wait to hear his prompting--it has invariably left me hurt and wanting a do-over.  When will I learn?!

Answer:  when I sit still and listen to him.  When I slow down the chaos of my life to just sit.  And breathe.  And be.  Because if I can still myself and my thoughts long enough, I will hear gentle reminders of his love.  If I will just be still.  If I will just listen.  

There is a God who loves me and you.  He loves me even more than I love my babies.  He is capable of far more perfect love than I can give.  He longs to protect us, and give us good gifts, and see us made whole from worlds of mistrust and abuse.  But, until we settle what we believe is true about him, we won't fully trust him.  People have and will let us down--that's inevitable--but God is incapable of being anything other than loving towards us.  If we can put our trust in anyone, we should learn to put our trust in him!  

Lord, my trust and my faith are so small.  I want to trust you but then I doubt and waiver.  I can be so fickle.  Thank you for being patient and gentle with me.  No matter who has loved me well or who has completely let me down, help me to learn to trust you despite the hurtful memories or painful past experiences.  Your word promises that you have good plans for me:  plans to prosper me and not harm me, plans to give me hope and a future.*  When life gets too loud, help me learn to be still so that I can hear your voice.  When I doubt your love for me, please give me gentle reminders.  Thank you.

*quote from Grace for the Imperfect Mom 
*Jeremiah 29:11

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee and Holley Gerth today.

Five Minute Friday: Hide

This week the Five Minute Friday theme is: hide.  The idea is to set a timer for five minutes and write, no editing or over thinking.  This is a big challenge for me. I tend to over think most things.  But I'm doing it anyway.



I had a good friend recently tell me that she felt refreshed about a new opportunity... Just thinking that she could go somewhere and not have to wear a mask.  That she didn't have to go to a masquerade party...this time. I understood. 

I have been in places in my life where it seemed so many were hiding behind a mask. Some masks were even those of humility or sincerity. And not that those qualities weren't there at all. It's just that there was so much more. So, so much more. And why did they...why did we....always have to hide?

I am making strides to throw off masks. I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want to be associated with those who hide. I simply want to be known. And I only need to be truly known by one. Only one matters. The one who named me!  Let me never hide from him!

Once again attempting Five Minute Friday: Hide

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

She rattled off her list of six; she scribbled them on paper and placed them front and center on the fridge, with a tacky magnet holding it in place.  Her list of six.  Six friends she would invite.  Six friends to whom she would send invitations.  Six friends she hoped would come.  

I learn so much more from my children than they learn from me.  I am confident of this.  They teach me love, grace, joy, and forgiveness each day.  This one in particular.  This tough child of mine.  This one I wrestle with more than any other.  This one I cry over.  This one for whom I seek God's wisdom and direction in how best to love, guide, discipline, and simply enjoy.  How do I best extend love and grace to her?  She is the one I wrestle with.  How ironic!  She is the one I named mercy and grace.  She is the one who teaches me mercy and grace, through big and small struggles, every day.

Six friends she would invite.  And one of the six?  She was the one my daughter cried over for two years.  She was the one we had conversation after conversation, about how to love.  She was the one I reminded my daughter to love and pray for....despite.  She was the one who unleashed unkind words and told my daughter that oh no! she wasn't invited to play with them!  And now, the one who unknowingly caused such pain...she was invited.  By my daughter, full of fiery emotions and an iron-strong will.  By my daughter, full of mercy and grace.  My Ella Grace had completely forgiven.  Had possibly forgotten.  And had unhesitatingly chosen and invited.

I learn so much more about God's love from my children than I could ever hope to teach them.  And this one whom I've lost countless hours of sleep over?  She has taught me the most.  

It seems much like my struggles.  Like my broken and ugly places.  The parts I don't want to look at.  The parts I don't want anyone else to see.  The ones that have kept me up at night.  The ones that have brought unrelenting tears.  The ones I have no idea how to fix or change or manage.  Those are the struggles that have taught me the most.  Those are the struggles that have landed me on my face, begging for God's divine assistance.  Those are the struggles God has used to reveal his nature and his love toward me.

My daughter forgave, forgot, and invited.  I know another who did that.  And not because I deserved it either.  Yet, I am free to come to him at any time, because he forgave, forgot, and invited me.  My God loved me so much that despite all the mess and mistakes he knew I would make in my life, He offered the greatest gift.  And no matter what gift her friend may bring to the party, my daughter has already given the greater gift.  She forgave, she forgot, and she invited.  

I'm not qualified to teach much of anything through what I write or what I say.  I am the student.  I am constantly messing up this parenting thing--I'm not gonna lie--but God's gift to me, in my children, is astounding.  I am reminded of his promise:  and a little child shall lead them.*

Isaiah 11:6
I'm having Coffee For Your Heart today with my friend Holley Gerth

I'm also linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

Five Minute Friday: Tomorrow

Full of hope, full of possibility, tomorrow is.  Tomorrow always feels and looks better than the end of today.  I suppose at the end of my today's, I generally feel some sense of regret.  I regret something I said.  I regret that thing, that most important thing, that I failed to say.  And often, I regret that thing I should have done...but didn't do.

I dream of tomorrow often.  Tomorrow I am a better wife, a better friend, a better mama, a better sister, a better neighbor.

I also think of the astoundingly refreshing truth, which is that Jesus is in my today just as much as he is in my tomorrow. So even though I have regrets, he has only good thoughts toward me tomorrow.  Just like he had only good thoughts toward me today.  And maybe tomorrow, I can give myself a little more grace.

Participating in a Five Minute Friday writing prompt. The subject is: Tomorrow

Don't Delay Hope

Have you ever come to the point when you realize that you've allowed yourself to become cynical?  Or worse, jaded, in an area of your life?  Maybe it's with your job, with a friendship, with your finances, your parenting, or your marriage.  Maybe it's with a dream you used to hope for.  Becoming cynical is the essence, I believe, of losing hope.  And it's completely contrary to the nature of God.  But, do you know what?  It's a very easy way out!  And I've been there.

I'm not so proud of this, but it's the truth.  I have allowed myself to come to the point where I had lost all hope, at different times in my life.  Or, I refused to hope at all.  Because, isn't it easier to not hope, and therefore not experience disappointment, than to hope and possibly face tough disappointment?  Easier, yes.  But does it feel better?  No, not in my experience.  There is a verse in the book of Proverbs that explains it this way:  Hope deferred makes the heart sick.*  I used to think that that meant it was God's responsibility to come through for me, without much tarrying , or my heart couldn't bear it.  But the word deferred means put off(an action or event) to a later time; postpone.  This puts the responsibility on me.  I can choose to hope, or I can put off hoping.  God doesn't delay hope.  He is our hope.  He simply cannot delay hope.  And he doesn't want us to, either.

But, to hope, is to allow yourself to be authentically vulnerable.  Recently, I had to admit to myself that I wanted something quite a bit.  It had been easier, in the past, to delay hope, and act as though it didn't matter too much.  But I started to feel like such a fraud.  I felt as if I was lying to myself perpetually.  I was.  The truth is, God wants us to hope for certain things.  He gives us longings and desires to hope for.  Even more amazing is the reality that all, not most--but all, of what he wants us to hope for is ultimately for his glory, even if we can't comprehend the magnitude of that.  We read in Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'  He gives us a hope.  He gives us many hopes, really.  So, each time I minimized that thing that I really wanted, I was denying God the opportunity to give me the future he wants for me.

Not long ago, I read something profound that Oswald Chambers wrote.

Keep your life so constantly in touch with God that His surprising power can break through at any point.  Live in a constant state of expectancy, and leave room for God to come in as He decides.

I just have to confess that this literally floored me.  Yes, I've heard similar statements before.  And certainly, I've heard faith-messages preached on this concept.  But it always seemed more about what I could do to earn a miracle from God, rather than on His awesome power alone.  My part is to expect and to hope.  Because, after all, love always hopes.*

So, when I got that unexpected text (that brought me immediately to the thing that I greatly hope for), I had a choice.  I could dismiss it, trying to convince myself that none of it mattered anyway (so that I wouldn't have to face any disappointment if nothing resulted).  Or, I could allow myself that moment of excitement that said What if? and then turn it over to God in prayer.  He knows the plans he has for me,* doesn't he?

In my experience on both sides of the spectrum--jaded cynicism and expectant hope--I have to honestly say that hope feels a heck of a lot better.  It may be scarier for a moment, because it's never as easy to be vulnerable and real, but it leaves me in a better place spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  Remember what hope deferred does to your heart?*  As a mama to five precious beings, I want to be able to allow them to hope also.  I don't need to teach them to hope, because children are born dreamers!  But I do need to allow them to dream and to hope.  The world, with its cynicism, will begin its attempt to crush their dreams at an early age.  My job is to train them to persevere in hope.  To not delay hope.  Watch out world!  Because, on the other side of deferred hope, is longing fulfilled.  And the Bible declares that a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.*

*Proverbs 13:12; 1 Corinthians 13:7; Jeremiah 29:11
I'm having Coffee For Your Heart today with my friend Holley Gerth

Here All Along

Sometimes I wrestle with joy.  Or maybe the more accurate truth is that sometimes I wrestle with discontentment.  I wrestle with remaining joyful and content at all times.  I have a good life.  A really good life.  Not a perfect or problem-free life.  But I have a good life.  God has answered the biggest and best prayer I have ever had in the form of a wonderfully loving, selfless husband and five fun, smart, and uniquely amazing children.  Day by day, life has its ups and downs but truly I am a blessed woman.  However, I struggle to remain joyful and content.  I forget, at times, to count my blessings one by one.  And sometimes, I truly believe that I have lost joy.  That I can't find it.  

Recently our family added to our chickens.  We love our hens.  My oldest son takes such good care of them.  It's a win-win for us:  we wanted our kids to experience the responsibility of having pets, but not indoor ones just yet due to my son's allergies.  I have become a bona fide egg-snob.  I won't order eggs out anymore; they just aren't as tasty.  So, we added more baby chicks to our brood recently and our kids were thrilled.

Just like the first time around, our kids began picking "their" chick and naming her.  (Honestly, amongst those of the same breed, I can tell no difference).  But our kids usually can.  And it matters.  My daughter Ella promptly decided which one was hers and named her Lilah.

The following day, after moving our chicks to their new temporary home until they join the older hens, Ella could no longer tell which one was Lilah.  She was distraught.  Ella is a passionate young girl and is extremely emotional, like her mama.  I am continually seeking God's help in teaching her not to allow her emotions to cloud rational thinking.  Ahh...such an easy thing to do!  Smirk!  That being said, she was more than just a little upset that she couldn't find Lilah.

The day dragged on and Ella was inconsolable.  She had lost her Lilah.  We assured her that she would figure it out.  But Ella was still upset.  Later I was at the kitchen sink when Ella ran through the door and exclaimed "Mama!  I found Lilah!" "Yay! I'm so glad!" I told her.  Her joy was so evident.  She ran back out and I grinned at my husband as I whispered, "She was there all along." 

You know where I'm going with this.  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the reality hit me like a ton of bricks.  God nudged me, grinned with the love of a Father who knows best, and said "kinda like your joy, huh?!"  He knows.  He has deposited joy on the inside of us.  Readily available as a gift of strength in all of our days, we only need to access it.  God promises us that in His presence is fullness of joy!*  It is with us as His beloved children.  

Just as my daughter's new baby chick Lilah was there all along--though not recognizable to her--joy has always been available to me. Too often, I fail to recognize it.  I am so guilty of looking for joy in the wrong places.  I am waiting for it to chirp or peep in such a way as to say "Here I am!  This is where you can find me!"  Maybe in a new place I'd never thought to look?  But the truth is that I only have to look inside.  Joy has been deposited inside me through the love and goodness of God, in the gift of His son.  If I trust in Him, then I can rest in His hope.  I can be filled with joy!*  It's that simple!

My prayer is that I would remember joy is here in Christ and nowhere else.  Help me with this Lord!  My joy can't be found somewhere that God didn't place it.  He placed joy in His presence.  We will only be met with disappointment when we seek for joy and fulfillment in the wrong places.  Lilah was there all along, waiting to be recognized.  The joy of the Lord is waiting for me to recognize it and access it.  In Him alone, it has been here all along.

*Psalm 16:11
*Psalm 28:7

I'm having Coffee For Your Heart with my friend Holley Gerth today

Our Greatest Opportunity

Love is our greatest opportunity. If we want to see people change, if we want to influence their futures, we’re to love them profoundly. ~Andy Stanley

As followers of Christ, we have a responsibility to love as He has first loved us.  I have two dear friends who share the same favorite bible passage:

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  Romans 8:38,39 ESV

He loved us first.  And what an amazing love He has for us.  Nothing I do can separate me from His love because I am in Christ Jesus.  His love is in me.  Even when I don't feel it.  Even when I seem unable to live it.  Even when I am unfaithful, this promise remains.  Nothing can separate me from His love.  I understand why my dear friends both claim this passage as their favorite.  What comfort!  What reassurance!  What responsibility we then have, as His followers, to demonstrate His love to others.

Although this reality of the love of God is often difficult for me to grasp, I can understand it more clearly when I look into the eyes of a child.

 Somehow, when I look into the eyes of one of my precious children, I get it!  I can better grasp it.  Because, you see, I can't imagine anything that a child of mine could do, or not do, that could separate him from my love.  My love is far from perfect.  My love doesn't hold a candle to the love of God.  But the love I have for my children is very real and I can't imagine withholding it.

I have at times imagined scenarios that cause me to ponder how I might respond to my children.  I have considered bad or sad choices that they might make.  (God knows I know about such choices.)  And yes, sometimes I allow myself to be fearful of certain possibilities.  None of us want to be devastated by the choices of our children.  Still, I cannot imagine any possibility in which I would be able to withhold my love from them.  I would rather not breathe.  

God's love for His children is endless and it is fully and completely perfect!  He is able to forgive with no reservations.  He is love himself.  And as He so freely promises that nothing can separate us from His love, we realize that we have a responsibility toward others.  As Andy Stanley stated, we have an opportunity...to love them profoundly.

One of the things we talk about frequently with our children is love.  Any of them will tell you that they often hear me and their Dad saying: show love, show kindness.  We want them to see love our too.  It is my hope that they feel our love toward them in tangible ways.  It's not perfect and it's not complete, but it's there and I want them to know it without question.  We recently decided that we could help our children learn to show love in a more tangible way.  That as followers of Christ, we could do something more impacting.  We began sponsoring a child through Compassion International.  The excitement and joy on our children's faces as we made this decision together was priceless.  They began drawing pictures and making origami for this child long before we received our welcome packet in the mail.

They now have a friend in Haiti to love and pray for.  This has opened up several discussions about showing God's love.  We cannot do everything.  But as a family that has the privilege of being regularly reminded of the love God has for us, we can definitely do something.  We all can.  When we realize the depth of His great love for us--and that nothing can separate us from it--we have to do something!  We have a responsibility.  We have the wonderful opportunity to share His love.  And how much it makes our whole family smile that our special child to sponsor, love, and pray for is named Lovelie.  She is our constant reminder of the depth of God's love for all of us.

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.  We might not be able to fully grasp this great love, but we can do something.  Let's share that love.  Let's teach our children to share that love.

I'm having Coffee For Your Heart with my friend Holley Gerth today.

Congrats to Holley on her new book, You’re Loved No Matter What: Freeing Your Heart from the Need to Be Perfect