Reveal (Luke 2:35)

So much is hidden.  One piece because I am embarrassed to admit to it and what it says about me.  Another because I am scared of its power in my life - both for good and for evil.  A third because it hasn't been dwelt on lately and I've just plain forgotten about it.  And yet another because it and its potential have not even been discovered yet.

Whatever the reasons, so much of my heart is hidden from you.  You, the stranger I've just met, the casual acquaintance, the family I've known my whole life, the close friend, and even you, my husband.

God who reveals hearts, be gentle with me.  Reveal to me the smallest bits of the ugly hindrances inside of myself, in a way that I can grieve, repent, and overcome them by Your power.  Reveal to me the smallest bit of the beautiful potential inside of myself, in a way that I can embrace, imagine, and engage with it by Your power.

And I know I'm not the only one.  Each person I meet and know and love has so much hidden as well.  So, as it is helpful to those I love and to me as I love them, reveal their hearts to me as well.  Bit by bit, so that I can empathize and love them for all they are.  So that I can empower them to live up to their potential in You.

Ice Crystals

Ice crystals cover the windshield, cracks patterning their way across like an intricate burst of glory.  Sunlight simultaneously glares with blinding force and lights up this frozen artwork with its majesty.  The temperature dips ridiculously low and I am forced to let the vehicle run to warm up, pull out my warmest mittens, and shiver inside my jacket.  Defeatedly, I adopt the raised shoulders and clenched elbows posture of the season and fill my mind with dread that this signifies the beginning of the longterm deepfreeze.  Without these things, the intricate glory could never be.

May each circumstance of my week be an invitation to conversation with You.  May the coldest moments of each day be my cue to run to Your warmth.

Vague

All evening the incomplete thoughts were just below the surface.  Each the beginning of a question that never fully formed.  Each more of a vague nagging than a concrete feeling.  If the questions would have been finished, there would not have been any answers.  If the feelings would have been labelled, there would have been only the same wondering hope as their source.

I don't know who you are, how you will come into our lives, or when to expect you.  I don't logically even know that you are real.  But my heart sure says you are and I miss you.

Juxtaposition

You pull me in and the words in my ear make me fall for You all over again.  Your voice booms as it whispers and I hear You utter entwined messages as only the Divine can.

Deep and inexplicably selfless love rejoices over me in glorious melodies that flow from Your lips as you convince me of my worth in Your eyes.  This is the message I have known since childhood, but its words now take root in my heart and take shape in my life in ways altogether new and mesmerizing.  

Alongside the majestic singing are the murmurs that speak to my freshest wounds.  As You reveal Your love and Your self to me, my failings of word and thought and deed become painful for me to look at.  The closer I get to You, the more I see just how broken I am, how sinful and unworthy.  So You softly breathe the assurance that You forgive.  You see, You know, and You cover with Your Son.  

You belt out Your greater-than-I-can-grasp love for me

while you whisper Your greater-than-I-can-imagine grace for me

Here I walk in this juxtaposition, both worthy and unworthy

and I will repeat it to myself until I know and rely 

with every fiber of my being

and every step of my day

greater

greater

greater

How He Came

For All (Luke 2:10)

For the hurtful one who deserted me, letting our friendship slide like it didn't mean to him what it did to me.
For the draining one who is needy and self-centered and takes so much more than he gives.
For the uncomfortable one who is socially awkward and unaware and leaves me shaking my head.
For the defensive one is over-sensitive and difficult to talk to and makes me wonder where I went wrong.

For the unattainable one whose house is spotless and seasonly decorated and magazine-perfect.
For the intimidating one whose children are well-dressed and well-behaved and well-rounded.
For the gifted one who succeeds at whatever he does and excels wherever he tries.
For the gentle one who can navigate conversations and relationships with ease and grace.
For the self-controlled one who doesn't yell or lose her temper and whose demeanor exudes patience.

For all the people that raise my blood pressure and lower my hopes for mankind.  For all the people who inspire and intimidate me with their got-it-together-ness.  The good news that is cause for great joy is for all the people.  The saving grace of Jesus is for all people.  The intimacy I crave and enjoy with God is for all the people.  The love, joy, peace, strength, and wisdom I rely on daily is for all the people.

None of us is more worthy than the others.  None of us is less worthy than the others.

Left with Love and Grace

You kick your brother, forcefully and unprovoked.

I love you.

You taunt your brother and chase him around laughing at him.

I love you.

You whine and complain about your breakfast.

I love you.

You throw tantrum about getting dressed.

I love you.

Having abandoned time-outs, consequences, yelling, and threats for the day, I'm left with love and grace.  Which sounds so much less difficult and messy than it really is.

While you whine and complain, while you throw yourself on the floor, in between kicks and yells I whisper.  I love you.  I love you.  Can I lay with you here on the floor?  I love you.  Can I hug you?  Can I rub your back?  I love you.

Know that there is nothing you can do to get outside of my love for you.  Believe that there is no transgression that renders you unworthy.  See that my love for you extends beyond your ability to comprehend.  Feel that my love for you flows over every bit of you - even the bits I am working hard to shape.

I love you, my son.

Full (John 1:14)

Skimming the pages of my Bible that live in my memory, words like Full, Abundant, Overflowing, Surpassing, and Greater catch my eye as they fly past.  They always have.

A lifetime ago, they compelled a spontaneous and instant response, my hands rocketing outwards to grab on to them and with me dragging along behind.  I'd see my grip tighten and my knuckles whiten as I clung to their promise that this emptiness could be filled.  The twin monsters of loneliness and unworthiness danced around mockingly, trying to swallow my heart whole with their lies.  But hope clawed its way out of their jaws never letting go of its life-grip on those soaring, majestic assurances that one day.

Today my response is less urgent.  Its subtleness startles me as I reread those same words and recognize that the longing has changed.  I am not empty; I don't 'need' to be filled.  My life is full of good things, precious people, valued gifts.  My soul is filled with passions, dreams, and hopes.  My days are filled with the glorious mundane that is sweeping up Cheerios into dustpans and children into my arms.  My heart is full and overflowing.

He is full of grace and truth.  Though the realization arrived more subtly, I slowly reach out and take hold of the words as they meander past.  I don't have to grasp them so tightly this time.  They comfortably melt into my warm palm.  These are mine.  I've known them for years.  Their extravagance defines what I know of Him.  Their hope and abundance describes what I desire for me.  The tide is turning as I gently, repeatedly, cozily draw near to Him.  He is here and one day I will be *full* of Him.

Other

So many stories and experiences reinforce the 'otherness' of You.  You create all things from nothing and I see You outside of time and space.  You send floods and rainbows and messages and I see Your power and control.  You are in the clouds and the fire, crossing the all but God-forsaken desert.  At your command, the waters become stormy or calm or parted down the middle.  You are clothed in majesty, surrounded by an emerald sea, the only thought on the minds of all the creatures who bow before You.

Everything about You is so resplendent and awe-inspiring.  You are more powerful than my mind can fathom, greater than I will ever know.  Despite its 'otherness,' I do not doubt Your glorious greatness for a moment.

It's that glory, Your glory full of grace and truth, wrapped up in swaddling clothes, that mystifies me.  You became weak, temptable, powerless, needy, dirty, broken, human, messy, bruised, hungry, limited, mistreated, common, vulnerable flesh.  You made Your dwelling here among us.  With me.  In the world I know.  As a person I can know.

Fully God.  Fully with me.  Emmanuel.

That Your Greater would choose to become mine?  That is the truth I must claim hourly.  Your greater grace extends to every dark corner I offer up.  Your greater love for me both humbles and excites me.  You take great delight in me.  You are greater than all other gods.  And you will do greater things than these.  How can my response be anything but this: Thank You, Jesus.  You must become greater, I must become less.

Overshadow

By Your power, Most High, overshadow me.
Overshadow my anger with Your greater grace, my weakness with Your perfect strength, my quick reactions with Your long-suffering patience, my lies with Your praiseworthy truth, my laziness with Your overflowing life, my tears with your all-encompassing joy, my fear with Your otherworldly peace, my selfishness with Your humble sacrifice.
You must become greater, I must become less.
Overshadow me.

Wife

Things are happening.  There's bubbling beneath the surface.  A smile plays at the corners of my lips, even as I think about how He is moving.  What was choice is now desire.  What was practice is now life.  I love Him.  And He loves me.  And He is changing me.  Because love does.

But.  Oh how I wish there was no but.

But as I step off to the side and watch myself for a moment, I see a glaring hole between the caring phone calls, deliberate check-ins, prayerful emails, grace-filled conversations, compassionate listening, encouraging cards, generous offers, and hospitable invitations.  Those all look so righteous and holy and wonderful, but in the very center of them all is a cavernous gap called wife.  In that role, I am so weak.  He does not get the careful, caring, passionate love that I pride myself on doling out to everyone else around me.

And I feel ugly for selfish and hypocritical for it.

Lord, only You can fill me with that which I cannot manufacture.  I don't want to try harder.  Please, grow me love for him so that it cannot help but show in words, actions, touches, affirmations, tones, and attention.  You are the King of Greater.  Fill me with greater love and greater joy for my role in this house.

Don't look, Lord, this is too gross and messy and embarrassing.
I don't want You to know that's what I'm like.

But I extend grace.

But not for this, Jesus.  Not this time.  It's too much.  It's too awful.

But that is what grace is for.

But I'm not even asking for it.  I don't want to put words
to what I've done, to who I am.

But my grace surpasses.

But it's going to happen again, the same mistakes over and over.

I am so sorry.

But I give greater grace.

Greater?

Greater than you could earn.

Greater than you could repay.

Greater than you deserve.

Greater than your struggles.

Greater than your pain.

Greater than you could comprehend.

Surpassing, increasing, abounding, overflowing.

But I give greater grace.

My deep, dark corners where I keep the things that no one should see are not too deep and not too dark for you.  

Pondering 'greater'

The one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.
from 1 John 4:4
The Lord is greater than all other gods
from Exodus 18:11
for there is a greater power with us than with him
2 Chronicles 32:7
for God is greater than any mortal
from Job 33:12
I know that the Lord is great, that our Lord is greater than all gods.
Psalm 135:5
You will see greater things than that.
from John 1:50
He must become greater, I must become less.
John 3:30
My father...is greater than all
from John 10:29
they will do even greater things than these
from John 14:12
Greater love has one man than this; that he lay down his life for his friend's.
John 15:13
We know that God is greater than our hearts
from 1 John 3:20
But He gives greater grace
from James 4:6

Some more Luke 1:34

It's always back to the same 'how?" for me.  All the other 'how?'s we can handle, but this one...this one is as insurmountable as ever.  Nothing I can do or say will change it.  In fact saying something will make overcoming this obstacle less likely or even devastating.  Because this 'how?' is first of all, integral to the next step.  This 'how?' is humanly impossible and illogical.  And thereby essential and divine.  This 'how?' is what makes this thing God's and God's alone.

Luke 1:34

In the waiting, there are so many questions.  I can list off the reasons why I know this is my calling.  But the list of how's is even longer.  How will Bernie and I ever be of one mind?  How do I wait?  How long will I have to wait?  How will I know when it is time?  How will it start?  How should I approach it?  How can I prepare?  How will we afford it?  How do I stay passionate for the long haul?  How do I overcome the doubts?  How do I cling to a vision that is not concrete?

Mary's words echo through my mind as I wait and wonder, "But how will this be?"

God of all passions, gifts, and dreams
God of my specific calling
Misunderstood God
God of Mystery
I don't want to question or doubt or undermine You
Lord I believe, help me overcome my unbelief

Not Doing Anything

I know you said you're 'not doing anything', but when I look at you that is not what I see.  Maybe you didn't imagine yourself here, but I see you stepping up to the challenge.  Maybe days feel repetitive and boring, but I see you choosing to smile and engage with your son.  Maybe you feel impatient, but I see you gently redirecting his energy.  Maybe you feel lonely, but I see you taking courageous steps to connect.  Maybe you are scared, but I see your overflowing gratitude that he is healthy.  Maybe you cry at times, but I hear the joy in your voice as you describe his accomplishments.  Maybe you are uncertain of the future, but I see that you are sure of your love for him.

Your son is blessed to have a mama who is deliberately growing as she raises him.  You may not feel like you are doing anything, but you are being his everything and that is exactly what he needs.

Emmanuel

Will You speak to me?  Will you poke holes in the veil that divides my little human bits from your vast divine expanse?  I can sense that You are just right there.  But I want more of You.  Let me see what You see, if only for a moment, and I will cling to those truths.  Let me hear Your words, and I will carry them around with me.  Enter my day, Jesus.  Be my tangible Emmanuel.

Deepest Longing

It's happening.  My deepest longing is becoming Him.  These months of practicing adoration have initiated a shift.  No longer am I deciding to proclaim verses over and over, knowing in my head that they are true.  Subtly, their truth is taking root and sprout the beginning of something beautiful and personal and meaningful.  Relationship.  Desire.  Moments of peace sneak in and I want to be with Him.  Moments of chaos pummel me and I glance up and cling to Him.  Moments of wonder or joy or fear or pain are all breeding the reflex of gripping His hand tighter.

It feels like I'm just emerging into this new life.  Just being born of God.  Which, might be a bit ridiculous, or might be a entirely incredible.  But I will take it for all it's worth, knowing that it is a gift.

Stay

I just want to stay right here
Clinging to this thing I feel
Your love shines on my heav'n-turned face
My heart warms basking in Your grace
I'm all aglow and I have nowhere to go
I just want to stay right here
Clinging to this thing I -- CRASH

Exalt Devo 2

As we go into the Christmas season, I am reminded of the significance of Jesus' birth.  The words are easy to say and sing and gloss right over.  Jesus was born.

Jesus who, let us not forget, is God.  Divine, Holy, Creator, Exalted, Father, Glorious, Perfect, Loving, Powerful, and Everlasting.  Was born - meaning became human, entered the world of His creating.

At Easter we will celebrate his rescue plan for our sinful selves, but at Christmas we celebrate the moment this holy, exalted, powerful, loving, eternal God willingly chose to become one of us.  With confidence, we can say that He understands our needs, our struggles, our passions, our dreams, our joys, our challenges, and the entirety of our human experience.

Think about the times you have particularly felt that Jesus understood exactly what you were experiencing.  When has He felt remarkably close?  When has He been exceptionally praiseworthy?  When has He been especially comforting?

This evening, let's stand and praise Jesus together, that He understands and stands with us in every part of our lives.  As I begin, let us lift our hands in praise of a God who became human.  I invite you to be courageous and praise Him aloud for a specific time, good or difficult, that you knew that God got it and was right there with you.  Just say a word or a sentence and let's pray together, celebrating what it means that Jesus was born.

Jesus, thank you for becoming one of us.  We want to thank you for the many times that we have known beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you hear, and see, and understand us....
This Christmas, Lord, let us not forget the immense impact of the fact that Jesus was born.  Amen.

Exalt Devo 1

You know those days when you mess up?  Not the ones where the photo radar catches you or you discover you've been mispronouncing a word all your life or you swear in front of your Oma.  The ones where you hurt someone you love.  The ones where you say things you regret the second they are out of your mouth.  The ones where your reactions are ungodly, your attitudes impure, your motives selfish.  The ones where, even while you are still kicking yourself for the last blunder, you can't help but fall again.

We are so flawed.  We are so weak and powerless.  So human.  So sinful.  A thousand times we've failed.

I know a lot about days like this because I live with many small children.  Sometimes I can't even tell when these days are starting, as they begin fairly benign.  Maybe one kid will get out of bed and immediately go to claim the favourite cereal bowl for himself - this month's favourite is yellow.  Not necessarily malicious, just centered very much on the interests of self.  But it doesn't take long to devolve into shoving matches over who gets to hand out the vitamins, hollered accusations about who is being too loud, and words like 'poopy-head' being spat in each other's general direction.  Sometimes, but not always, we manage to avoid teeth marks on flesh.

Maybe it's easier to think of on toddlers.  Maybe it's easier to think of as just happening the odd time - to delude ourselves into believing that that's not the real us.  But those days are more reflective of our hearts than we would like to admit.  We might not push, yell, name-call, or bite, but if we are honest, that sinful ugliness is right there inside of us and it comes out in one form or another day in and day out.

So what happens with my kids, in the middle of those days when I want to hide in the shower, eat their whole stash of Halloween chocolate, or take up drinking?  Eventually, after they are separated, the tears are wiped away, and the drama has quieted, my four-year-old asks to pray.  He asks to pray because he already know that he can't just decide to change his behaviour.  He knows that resolving to do better is not going to fix things long-term.  And he knows that spending time sitting with Jesus is what his heart needs.  In simple words, he shares his struggles with Jesus, confesses that he is weak, and asks for more love in his heart.  Oh-so-innocently, he trusts that Jesus has the power to change him on the side.  Those few minutes fill him up and he marvels at the power of Jesus inside of him.

The trouble with being a grown-up is that we are more practiced at hiding our sin.  And we are better at appearing more competent at doing things by our own power for longer periods of time between major down-on-our-knees-before-the-Lord melt-downs.  Let me tell you, daily surrendering on the inside, is so much better than fighting to do things ourselves, somehow trying to prove that we can.  We are so flawed.  We are so weak and powerless.  So human.  So sinful.  A thousand times we've failed.

But God?  He is everlasting and His light will shine when all else fades.  He is never-ending and His glory goes beyond all fame.  Would you do what my four-year-old knows we need to do?  Would you go to Jesus now?  A thousand times we've failed, still His mercy remains.  Should we stumble again, still we're caught in His grace.  In our heart, and our souls, let us give Him control.  Let Him consume us from the inside out.  Take a few minutes right now, in your own heart,  and tell Jesus where you are at, confess what you need to confess, and then praise Him for His grace and for who He is to you today.

...

Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades.  Never-ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame.  And the cry of our hearts is to bring You praise, from the inside out, Lord, our souls cry out.  Amen.

Power (Isaiah 40:29)

Today I feel weak.  Tired and stuffed-up and not at my physical best by any means.  And the truth for the day is that you give power to the weak.  The sinking feeling of irony when I read the verse this morning is being replaced with evidence of truth over and over as you give me power in my weakness today.

I praise you, Father, for being extreme.  You don't use half-hearted words, make whimsical claims, or empty promises.  You don't just give me a little boost, or the bare minimum to make it through the day.  You give power.  To me.  Thank you for being the source of the power that motivates, energizes, and courses through my body, mind, and soul.

Full of Grace

Colossians 4:6
Let your conversation be always full of grace

Why is this so much easier with anyone outside of my household than with those inside?

Listening with grace comes easily, when I am with the friend who is struggling with her demons, wondering if God has given up on her and if she should give up on God.  Extending grace is second nature when it comes to a family member, whose particular pains and struggles I know about.  Offering grace to a neighbour is natural, when I know that I am one of few examples of Christ he has in his life.

But with my children?
But with my husband?
Those are the conversations I wish were full of grace.  Brimming with grace and empty of frustration, exhaustion, insensitivity, anger, mocking and eye-rolling, passive aggressive comments, and selfishness.

'Lord, let my conversations be always full of grace' is almost too big a prayer to pray.
But let grace fill every crevice of my sad and weary heart.  So that it would overflow into thoughts and into words and into conversations.  For today I pray, 'Lord let there be a portion of grace amidst my conversations and grow me to a place where I might step be drowning in the very fullness of grace.'

Tough

This is tough.  But you are tougher than you know.  Dutifully, you carry your day's load of books - mostly Franklin and Berenstain Bears.  You whisper that you will tell the nurse which story is your favourite - even as you are shy to even think about speaking to a nurse.  You ask if it's still snowing outside and wonder wehether we will get the room beside the Christmas tree.  You don't want to be here any more than I do, yet you excitedly check around the corner from triage to see what show is on in the waiting room.  Toopy & Binoo get your cheer of approval.  You blast right through the intake process of thermometers, blood pressure cuffs, and the finger clip with the red glow.  As a nurse prints your bracelet you call out to her that you got a bracelet at Tinkertown too.  With every new doctor or nurse that enters the room, you avert your eyes, wisely not trusting these people with sharp objects.  But slowly, each of them gets you to open up a little bit more, some of them even earning a sly smile or goofy grin.  A few hours later we pack up to go, your body filled with the medicine it needs to fight this bugger, your bag filled with as many stickers as you had needle-pricks, your mind filled with thoughts of the Franklin book that the last doctor suggested, and your heart filled with the pride and confidence that only come by overcoming.  You are tougher than you know.

2 Thessalonians 3:5

Direct my heart into Your love, where it is safely harboured
from the opinions of others, especially my own.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it skips a beat with excitement
and then pounds only to know more of You.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it grows deep roots
that can weather every doubt and difficulty ahead.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it is filled to overflowing
with Your goodness and grace and mercy and peace and joy and patience.
Direct my heart into Your love, where it can channel
the Resource those around me so desperately need.
Jesus, direct my heart into Your love.
Jesus, direct my heart into You.
Jesus, direct my heart.

THAN(i)K(o)FUL

The way you go back outside to push the stroller into the garage while I am undressing your brothers after our first real winter walk.  You don't say a word before or after and I don't even notice until half an hour later when I remember to go put it away myself.  As I find it perfectly returned to its place and the garage door closed - who knew you could even reach that high? - I am so overwhelmed with thankfulness for you, Niko.  Your awareness of what needs to be done, your willingness to help out where you can, and your humility to allow your work to go unnoticed.  I am so honoured to parent the amazing little dude you are.

Rev 2:17 A Name Only the Two of Us Undertand

As I have had more and more people share their journeys and struggles with me, I have come to think of myself in a new light.  I have recognized my genuine attentiveness and have marvelled at this aspect of myself that I had never noticed or labelled before.  I have added Listener to my names for me.

When I became a parent, elements of patience and humility came out previously untapped places in my heart.  As the challenges have grown, so I have grown in response to them.  I was made to do this and without the blessing of children, God would never have been able to reveal this part of me to me.  I have added Humble to my names for me.

Living in community during my two trips overseas exposed a part of me that yearns for deep and lasting connection.  The friendships I built during those times had so much more depth and meaning than any I had previously experienced.  Having to leave them, brought such pain and the insight that I needed one or two relationships of that level at home on a permanent basis.  I have added Made for Relationship to my names for me.

The years of work I did with people who have special needs opened my eyes in many ways - not the least of which was to a passionate part of myself.  Through those experiences, God showed me what I had suspected about my heart for the overlooked and that my gift to see and feel compassion for those needs was not universal.  I have added Compassion to my names for me.

The challenges of school and friendship and hormones that accompany teenagehood, made my cling to my faith, my foundation, my family, and my Father.  While I recall many questions and doubts and temptations, I also recall holding on to Truth through it all.  My faith became stronger as I chose to make it mine, independent from the faith of all those around me.  I added Deliberate to my names for me.

Every time I find myself taking on a new role, facing a new challenge, or entering a  new stage I get excited to see what new aspects this will reveal about God and what new characteristics this will reveal about who He created me to be.  So the concept of getting a name from Him that only I will understand gives me goosebumps.  What does He see in me that I have yet to notice?  What secret gifts and passions and truths has He placed in there for us to discover together?

Missing my Marriage (3)

In an effort to love Bernie as deliberately and thoughtfully as I do my friends to whom I am not married:
Today I will thank him for his capacity and skill at sharing the parenting well.
Tomorrow I will kiss him passionately.
This week I will speak in only uplifting words and tones.  (I will not second-guess or verbally roll my eyes.)

Golden

Back and forth, I've got this split personality going on inside of me.  They're not yelling at each other, but there is constant bickering narrative: They are still so young and full of energy.  Why can't they just walk in a straight line?  Let kids be kids.  Can we ever do anything without looking like a gong-show?  They will grow out of this soon enough.  I can't wait for a calm entrance with regular blood pressure.   Try to savour these moments.  Walk in a straight line, dammit!  And on and on it goes inside.  Waiting for that golden moment when they are walking beside me, faces washed, laces tied, chatting peacefully.  A moment is void of running, chasing, competing, tripping, falling, hollering, wailing, and whining on their part and void of calling, reprimanding, and sweating on mine.  Is it so much to ask?

That's not my only golden moment dream either.  A shower with no one shouting for me.  All five of us sleeping until 8am on the same day. Listening to a sermon.  A day without discipline issues.  Everyone dressing themselves, walking out to the van, and buckling themselves.  Children playing pleasantly and supper made.  Reading a novel cover to cover.

Lord, don't let these hopes be the ones that shape me.  Don't let them dictate my attitudes and interactions with my children.  My constant hope of knowing You, seeing You, loving You, serving You, becoming more into Your likeness - that's the golden moment that I want to be the undercurrent of my day.  May You have cause to love my loyal heart that would rather inhale your peace than fixate on their chaos and our collective mayhem.  I'm taking a deep breath (and another and another) and defiantly pinning my allegiance on Your truth above the truth I seem to be sinking in.

Disillusioned

My favourite thing about you has always been your genuine interest in other people and ability to be enthusiastic in sharing their joys.  As a kid, I loved seeing you spend hours crocheting three baby blankets for each of your nieces' babies.  When I was a teenager, I realized that the way you could rejoice when someone shared their good news with you on the phone, was not a universal personality trait.  When we were finally able to tell you that we were going to have our first baby, I am sure you were every bit as thrilled as I was.

I longed to have that ability too - to be selflessly and authentically supportive of someone else's joys and triumphs.  I have always tried to see the many ways that I am like you, searching for that gift in myself.

A few years later, my observations seem to be shedding such a different light.  I see cynicism and skepticism and my childhood image of you darkens around the edges.  I see relationship rifts and a strip of perfection is peeled off of the ideal version of you I have known.  I see self-righteousness and believing the worst of others.  As my tears fall, I reach for one of those baby blankets, finger the crocheted edges and dream of the time when what I used to know of you was all I knew of you.

You are still who I once knew, but you are also more.  And I am learning to love the you I know now.

To 18-Month-Old Lachlan

My son, you are rockin' the 18-month-old world of discovery these days!  And it gives me great cause for laughter, for groans, and for expectation to be party to these discoveries of many kinds.

First there is the realm of trouble-making discovery - an exciting realm for you, to say the least.  You can unpack entire cupboards in record speed and you hear the sound of the dishwasher being opened from the farthest corners of the house.  You narrowly escaped great injury when I walked in to the kitchen to find you pulling the handle of a pot of boiling water from the back element of the stove toward the edge, a feat you had only accomplished by first wrangling a chair out from under the table, pushing it across the room, and hoisting yourself onto it.  You've given me practice at cleaning up a potpourri of basil, turmeric, and cinnamon from the floor and fishing your most-loved teddy out of the toilet.

The realm of self-discovery has been going on much longer and, yet, it is still mesmerizing to behold.  While it began early with exploration of fingers and toes, you are now discovering language and communication.  You are attempting words like 'mama,' 'dada,' 'sock,' 'baby,' 'ball,' 'car,' 'milk,' and the extremely important 'cookie,' grinning when you see that we understand.  And you are realizing that you also understand us, as you are eager to show that you can do what we ask when we say 'go get your bear' or 'go give Daddy a hug.'  You get beside yourself with giddiness when you become aware that your big brothers are deliberately trying to get you to giggle.

My favourite realm right now is discovery within family.  I cannot help but treasure up the moments when you are figuring out how you fit in to us.  Your eyes light up when the shenanigans of your brothers can include you, because when you are 'kaboofing' with them on the bed, we can all feel how perfectly you belong.  Watching you recognize that for yourself is a powerful thing for a parent.

To know that you are so confident, at this young age, that you are always in the centre of our love for you brings me to my knees before Jesus as I seek wisdom to parent in a way that you can remain secure in that love.  And it simplifies my own Father-daughter relationship as I remember that there is nothing I have to do or be that could put me any more at the centre of God's love as be watches me 'kaboof' and chuckles to Himself contentedly.

1 John 5:20

I want to sit at your feet and listen, because you are the one whose words make sense.  They are authority given voice.  They are truth and comfort and wisdom and grace in a baritone that makes my knees shake.  You are the one sent to be born in the very same flesh I was born in.  To dwell among us and be one of us.  To know my human experience for yourself.  And you are the one sent to change that human experience forever and for right now.  To speak simply and open the complexities of the universe.  To be of HIM and like HIM and from HIM and bring the whole of HIM down here so I could begin to understand.  You are the only logic and peace and order that ever make me whole.  I want to sit and your feet and hold up my listening heart to you.

Seen

God, who is unseen, You see what is done in secret.  (Matthew 6:6)  Right now, I don't even need to know that you reward these hidden things.  Just clinging to the hope that they are seen is more than enough for me as I wrestle.  There is so much and it is so heavy.  My processing has slowed down because my heart is bogged down.  It is loaded with a hefty heap of burdens-of-others lumped together with a substantial helping of discovery-of-me as I recognize in myself empathy and gut-wrenching compassion for those whom I love and whose lives I touch.  I recognize that You are giving me greater and greater grace by which to see the people around me, though I never would have thought that grace would bring such a weightiness.  As so much is quietly going on inside me and in the fragmented whispers of my ongoing conversation with you, I thank You, Lord, that you have eyes to see what no one else does.  I, every bit of me, am seen.

Why Do Church?

Maybe it's because it's so long and so tiring.  Three hours is a long time to keep the kids walking not running, in sight, safe, occupied, focussed, decently behaved, fed, bathroomed, and generally pleasant in a public setting.  Also, it's a long time to be close to a bunch of people I like and would enjoy talking to, but always feel multi-distracted.

Maybe it's because the exhaustion and multi-tasking has been going on for so long.  I feel like I remember when it was enjoyable, relaxing, and energizing.  It was both socially and spiritually satisfying.  But that was a very long five years ago.  And the end of this stage doesn't seem to be in sight.

Maybe it's because I'm not involved enough to see the good stuff that is happening.  I remember when I used to know more of what was going on and why it was going on.  But it just isn't practical to do more in this season.

Maybe it's because it feels bigger.  It's grown and I don't know the people or the programs or the leadership.  I don't know what decisions are being made or why they need to be made in the first place.

Maybe I've been there too long.  Thirty-one years is a long time in the same place.  At some point does it stop being faithfulness and start being laziness?

I don't actually know what it is, exactly, but I'm starting to wonder if I belong at our church.  It scares me a bit to even think those words, because it has been so long and it is all I know and I do so love the community I have there.

But even on the good days, when the kids are contained and happy, when I get to chat with someone, and when I hear the majority of a sermon, I'm still not fully convinced.

And there is the conundrum that if I shy away from involvement I feel like the whole church experience does not have a lot of value.  Yet if I get involved, I so often feel disheartened.  Years of being turned down for music ideas.  Processes that move so slowly.  Repetition and predicability and so little vision or passion or excitement or change.  My spontaneity and my personality don't fit in.  Maybe I just wasn't made for church.  I don't want to bail, but I need to be reminded of why I am doing this.  Instead it just feels like another disappointment is on the horizon.

Give me grace, Lord Jesus, for my brothers and sisters.

All of Me

The phrases in my head and the sparks in my heart are all saying the same thing.  Abandon everything to Jesus.  Let Him reign in your life.  Give it all to Him.  Trust completely.  Withhold nothing.  Don't be lukewarm.  Hand over control.  Follow wholeheartedly.  Be all in.

Every which way I look, every book I read, and every song I sing keeps coming back to the drastic.  Die to myself and live only for Him.  The corners of my soul have their concerns, but I can feel the centre growing.  I can feel embers being stirred and the flames beginning to lick at the edges of revival.  

My logical self wants to know what it will look like.  What specific arenas of my life am I withholding?  What would it look like to give Him control in those places?  Really, concretely, what would need to change?

But the part of me that just loves Jesus for who He is, that part just wants to grow the love.  It doesn't want to worry about the consequences or the difficult things it may be asked to do.  It doesn't care about the details and it not fixated on the steps of growing or glorifying.  It just enjoys the moments, the whispers, the intimacy and wants to let the trickles of His glory turn to a deluge.  Just by loving, by listening, by breathing His goodness in and out.

Quote of the Day

Me: Niko, why are you still awake?
Niko: I'm not.

God of Deep Compassion

The things that make my heart beat faster with compassion are from you.  They make me feel that awful thing in my gut and at the same time get my excited to do something.  To help, to fix, to get involved.  They touch me deeply and my passion bubbles up from a sacred place within me.  That's what it feels like to be in the middle of God's will for me.

When S answered the question of what motivates her, it was so obviously of God.  I had never thought of truth as a motivator because it's not one that affects me that way, but she had barely started speaking and her voice got more firm, her words flowed more quickly, and she became more animated.  Authority rose up in her and it was easy to see her in the middle of God's will for her.

Adding that concept to my mental picture of Jesus, makes me see beyond the words of John 11:33 and into Jesus' heart.  "When Jesus saw her weeping...he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled."  I have a God of compassion, who feels to His very core.  His responses are not the calculated actions of someone uninvolved in the situation.  Rather he sees me, His child, and his heart is moved.  His breath quickens, his stomach tightens, his pulse races, his fists clench.  He feels with me and for me as I journey.  I have a God of deep compassion.

Filled and Overflowing

A weekend away from normal, hours of uplifting conversation, many laughs between girlfriends, the kind of sharing that connects people, worshipping with 9,000 women, and soaking in such great speakers have left me filled.  I arrived at the conference in "a pretty good place" with Jesus.  A place that seemed better and better every time I heard what other people are dealing with.

So I am thankful.  Thank you, Jesus, that we could afford the financial cost of the weekend.  Thank you that Bernie is such a competent father and was willing to look after the boys.  Thank you that each of the kids was in a place where they could handle me leaving.  Thank you that we were all at full health.  Thank you that we have so much family who can help out.  Thank you that Syl was willing to go with me.  Thank you for the pain and hurt you have spared me in my life.  Thank you for my roots.

And thank you for being with me in this place of goodness, where I can go and soak up truth and your story.  There are many snippets that are ringing in my ears still, but the underlying thread is your story.  I was moved to hear of how powerfully present you have been in so many people's lives - from the speakers to the music artists to the people I travelled with.  I was challenged to remember no matter where I am right now, every part of my life and faith journey is a season.  And that you are most powerfully present when you seem to be most apparently absent.

I feel filled, Jesus.  I feel filled from this weekend and I want it to overflow.  It is so easy and natural for me to overflow your love onto my friends, neighbours, and acquaintances.  It is easy to see their needs and acknowledge them.  That comes naturally for me.

But I want this filling to overflow onto my family.  The place where I am more stressed and less polished than anywhere else.  Onto my husband, who sees the worst of me.  Onto my kids, who see the most of me.  Onto the ones who are already predisposed to being annoyed by me.

Trust and God's Story

Of all the things to put my trust in, putting it in You seems most logical.  I want to stop taking back 'control'.  Of course, it's not really control I'm taking back, just the imaginary feeling of it.  But knowing I don't and can't ever have control, doesn't seem to stop me from pretending I do.  Having ideas.  Making plans.  Dreaming and scheming.  Good things, but my things.  On my terms, in my ways, with my timing.  To be counted as my accomplishments if I succeed.  And to be hidden as my failures if I do not.  Or perhaps, at best, to be learned from and improved upon as my lessons if I do not.  But even still, it's all so self-centered.  So natural, yet so very much missing the point.

God is weaving an incredible story in and through those who are willing to keep in step with His Spirit at work around them.  I want to be one of them.  I don't want to miss anything.  I don't want to walk right past an opportunity to be involved in God's story because I was preoccupied with my own selfish stuff.

Besides, my stuff is so pale and limp and lame compared to His.  I know how much God loves me, and I put my trust in His love.  The place where I couldn't be safer.  The place where my ideas and passions and dreams will be of Him.  The place where he can mold and shape the big hopes and the hidden corners of me.  Daily.   Hourly.  So that there is no 'my things' outside of Him, because 'my things' are already smack in the middle of Him.

God, the story of You and us is amazing and tumultuous and devastating and elating and suspenseful and altogether Yours.  Thank you for the intimacy you share with us, Your created.  Thank you for inviting me into the story even as You inspire me with it.  Thank you for what makes me uniquely me.  Lord, I want to find myself in You and You alone.  I want to trust in You and You alone.  The words I want to say are words I am scared-silly to say: Make me humble, make me dependent, make me only Yours.

Room for Baggage

You can't talk to him that way!  It's just not fair.  Not from your spot on the corner of the couch.  Not half-reclined with your arm across your chest.  Yes, he is emotional and full of outbursts.  Many of them are uncalled for and most are unnecessary.  Yes, he is rowdy and full of energy.  Much of it is explosive and all of it is exhausting.  Yes, his arms flail and his legs kick and his voice booms out of control.  Some if it is age and stage.  Some of it is personality.  Some of it is circumstances.  Some of it is choice.  Some of it baffles him as much as it does us.

But it doesn't even matter why he does it, what's going on inside, whether there was a legitimate trigger, or how you are feeling at that particular moment.  If you snap at him, your reaction is the same as his: you aren't controlling your emotions or acting in a polite and acceptable way either.  Sure, yours is less disruptive, less prolonged, less of a full-body experience.  But it's just an adult version of the same thing: uncontrolled and improperly expressed emotions.

And you know what else?  If you're not down there on the floor interacting, you don't have the right to react.  You can get annoyed and it can tick you off that it's noisy, rude, or otherwise unacceptable behaviour.  Totally.  It irritates me too.  But you're not giving him an idea of what to pretend.  You're not inviting him to join you in an activity.  You're not racing cars or constructing towers or setting up farms or playing super heros.  Unless you are right there with him, engaged and redirecting as you go, you don't have the right to bark at him.

Please stop.  Please show him the love you say you have for him.  It won't be too much longer before he feels the disconnect that I see.

Marvel

Even though I spend so much of my day modelling, guiding, and teaching my kids about respectful behaviour and relationships, when I catch them embodying those principles to each other, I marvel.  It's not that I didn't think it could or would ever happen.  If I thought that I wouldn't be trying so hard to impart my wisdom.  But I am still a teeny bit surprised that it is happening right here in front of me, that it looks so natural, and that these things are becoming a part of them.  I marvel at how far they have come.

I feel like I know my kids well.  Nobody else has spent more time with them than I have.  Nobody has witnessed as many firsts or coached as many accomplishments.  Nobody has wiped as many tears or sneaked as many hugs.  I know a lot about their gifts, passions, interests, abilities, and characters.  Yet they amaze me over and over.  They do something that will fill me with pride as I delight in them.  And while I am proud of the thing they have done, I simultaneously marvel at what it says about who they are.  I see their accomplishment, but even better, I see the beating heart behind that accomplishment and marvel at who they are at their very core.

Jesus has been teaching me for years and years.  When He sees me living those teachings, embodying His will, keeping in step with His spirit in me...well, I suspect that He marvels.  He might marvel at how far I have come.  How I am growing.  How He is growing me.  Perhaps His heart even swells with pride when I have a particularly big breakthrough.

Jesus knows my gifts, passions, interests, abilities, and character.  He put them there, after all.  But in the moments when I have given Him plenty of space and freedom to move in me and through my hands and words, in those moments he must marvel like a giddy parent.  He must marvel at how the things I do or say reflect His love in my life.  He must marvel at how those great moments point to a living, breathing, beautiful soul that He crafted that with the capacity and drive to do His will.

Lord, today I marvel at You because You first marvelled at me - even as I marvel at how much vertical and horizontal square footage 5 cups of flour can cover.

Why I want to Foster

After finally saying out loud that I think I'd like to foster, I feel very self-conscious about it.  I feel like I need to have good, solid reasons and know for that this is what I want to do and why I want to do it.  I feel like it needs to be more than "a good thing to do".
(Sidenote: what I really want if for the I's to be we's, and I won't actually pursue this if they never become we's.)

I want to foster because the stories of kids whose families can't provide the safe homes they need make me angry and trembly and make my gut knot with compassion in a way that few other injustices do.

I want to foster because I have imagined giving a home to other people's children for as long as I can remember.  For 'irrational' reasons and long before I even realized that that wasn't normal.

I want to foster because I have a burden to share the Very Good Thing we have going on here.  Not the easy thing or the relaxing thing, but the good thing.  I want to pass on the blessing of a solid marriage relationship and of a supportive network of church, friends, and family.

I want to foster because there is a major issue in our city of injustice between races, and it seems that only love and personal connection can begin to heal that rift.

I want to foster because I have always pictured a full house of kids and thrived on managing the chaos.  God has given me a gift for this and I want to be faithful in using it to serve him and others.

I want to foster because God is pestering me to do so.  Pestering and preparing.  I have so many life experiences that have equipped me, on various small levels, for this.  I have begun to recognize and identify aspects of my character that are gifts not everyone has.

I want to foster because God is pulling my heart that direction and if I don't listen, I will miss out on part of his plan for me.

Like a Weaned Child

I am calmed and quieted, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother's milk.  Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.  Psalm 131:2

When Niko was in the newborn stage, he was so so good at snuggling in and sleeping on anybody.  He liked to be upright on a chest and would just burrow himself in there (I think Karen will have a memory of him doing this to her once during church).  He was so cozy and cuddle-able and content - especially on Bernie's chest.  But pass him to me, and a slow but steady transformation would occur.  He'd start shifting and wriggling.  He'd begin to turn his head from side to side and grunt.  Before you know it he was completely awake a desperate for milk.  Where peaceful sleep had been totally blissful only minutes ago, now only hunger remained.  

So I imagine being calmed and quieted as the place where Jesus is really all my heart wants and needs.  I don't find myself distracted at the faintest hint of a milky fragrance, because I have learned that my whims don't ever take me to that place of complete rest.  That peace is only found snuggled tight, cozily dozing on Jesus' chest.

That said, my weaned children certainly don't cuddle the way they did when they were still breastfeeding, so maybe I missed the message of this verse.

That said, David never breastfed anyone.

Project E

You are not as gruff as you seem.  Your tough and apathetic exterior is a facade.  But I can see how that is easier to show the world than exposing them to your life of single-handedly supporting a family of five on a marginal salary.  Your burden of being the spiritual head of the household.  Your baggage of the mental illness that plagues your home.  Your heart heavy with loneliness as the husband who was supposed to be your partner in all things feels like he is another one you have to care for.

I am glad that you found our group.  I have been bitter before, at how your poison of negativity can drag us down.  But this time I will love you for you, challenge you carefully, and see if we can't both grow a little.  

Turner Of Hearts

It's not on me to put in the requisite minutes of meaningful daily devotion time.  Or to ensure that I pray often and deeply enough.  Or to see the beauty of God in every moment and person.  Or to love everyone I come in contact with.  Or to practice the presence of God at all times.

Those are all really good and wonderful things.  But it's not up to me because God, You are the Turner of hearts.  There are times when I will be on top of it and be doing everything "right".  And there are times I will be floundering.  Most days I am somewhere in between, but my relationship with You is not just another ball I have to juggle.  Not just a category of my life I can give a grade on any given day.  Because it's not on me.

Thank You, Jesus, for being the One to turn my heart back to You in the big and memorable moments.  And thank You for being the One to turn my heart back to You in the little whispers and gentle nudges.  Thank You for bringing me back little by little and pulling me closer bit by bit in a faithful moment by moment way.   Thank You that it's not up to me.

Foster

Every story I hear about abuse and neglect and broken messed-up families makes a deeper cut of compassion into my heart.  I can't gloss over them.  Those stories are the ones that grab my attention each time I see, hear, or read the news.  Sadness swells inside and I feel a yearning to do something.  What I have here is so good.  Not easy, mind you, but good.

I have a solid marriage.  Not perfect and certainly not bump-free, but solid.  It is hard work to maintain, but we are both willing to work hard.  It gets tense here and there, but we can always talk it through.

I have three happy, healthy kids.  They aren't perfect either, but they are learning and growing and are secure in their relationships with us and each other.  They are loved and respected in the way they deserve.

I have an incredible support network.  Parents, siblings, friends, and a church help out, back us up, support us, pray for us, and encourage us.  It is a wide circle of connections, but deep enough in a few places that I can rely on them to be there when I cannot.

The conversation of fostering comes up around me so many times.  Clearly our city needs more good, healthy, strong, caring foster families.  So many people mention that they want to foster, yet so few are.  I want to take steps of action and put my compassion to good use.  I want to share all the good in this house with the little ones whose houses aren't blessed with the same.

Jesus, give us courage to move ahead.

You have the Words

O Lord, to whom would I go?

To the world of friends and supporters I have built up around myself.  To encourage, to corroborate, to challenge, to enliven.  And they do.  But they cannot speak into the places I have not let them see.

To the mothers who know what day in and day out kids feels like.  To understand, to sympathize, to commiserate, to inspire.  And they do.  But they, too, cannot speak into the cracks that are so deep and thirsty.

To the internet with its (over)abundance of stories and ideas.  To be seen, to be heard, to be declared worthy.  And it does.  But it, especially, cannot speak into the real-ness of my real needs.

To my husband who loves me so fully and unconditionally.  To build up, to fill up, to hold up, to open up.  And he does.  But he cannot speak fullness when he is so drained.  He cannot be expected to single-handedly sustain me.

But You have the words that give life.  Thank you, Jesus.  I praise You for being the one who encourages, corroborates, challenges, enlivens, understands, sympathizes, commiserates, inspires, sees me, hears me, declares me worthy, builds me up, fills me up, opens me up, and holds me up.  Your words are the words I need to hear.  They bring light out of darkness and life out of death.  You speak truth.  You speak from a place of grace and gentleness and compassion.  Let my words be few as I learn to hang on every word that comes from Your lips, O Lord.

Safe in the Knowing

It was dark and the sound of the water under the bridge was so relaxing.  The ice cream and the moon invited us both deeper, it seemed.  We bantered back and forth, expressing some frustrations and possible solutions.  The commentary very telling about where we were at and the different places we were coming from.  Yet an understanding of gentleness and friendship made it feel very safe.

Fist-clenching opinions gave way to heart-wrenching feelings as you shared about the last time you saw your dad.  It was so real and so raw.  I knew in that instant, that you were letting me in deeper.  Into a place not every friend got to visit or speak into.

I tiptoed close to the edge of openness, wanting to share my real thing too.  A deep breath, a tiny step and I would have soared over the precipice, allowing you to know my heart a little more.  But I hesitated.  There is risk in being known.  I second-guessed and before I knew it the moment was gone.

But with Him, my second-guessing is irrelevant.  I don't have to feel that heart-fluttery wondering or take a deep breath, deciding whether to share that thing that feels too close.  Because He knows.  He knows before I realized it myself.  He knows and it didn't shock Him.  He knows and it didn't make Him question me or doubt me or judge me or mock me.  It didn't even make Him love me any less.  And in the moment of closeness with Him, when I could bare all or not, I don't even have to make the call.  Because He knows and I am safe in the knowing.

All the Ways

The way you deliberately ask your little cousin to repeat what he said so you can try to decipher what his words mean.  The way you gingerly hold a new baby and notice how perfect he is.  The way you graciously let Emerson play Trouble with you, but by his own rules.  The way you are so much more likely to melt-down in tears of utter disappointment than of angry rage.  The way you gently redirect Lachlan, using your baby-voice and calling him Lachley.  The way you excitedly look forward to "our small group" coming over and are a little offended that they are not only coming to play with you.  They way you are endearingly disappointed in yourself when you have a rough day of listening.  The way you uncontainably leap into a bear-hug after doing something you are exceptionally proud of.  The way you confidently teach Emerson how to stand in net so that he can make a few saves.  The way you are courageously overcoming your fears as you venture out on your own and even reach out to make new friends.

The way God is glorified in you is spectacular in these moments.  The way God sees the wonderful you he created is evident in these portraits.  The way I love, guide, teach, discipline, struggle, wonder, and pray is worth it for these rewards.

Barefoot and Pajama-Clad

The way your cries woke me in the middle of the night, yet I came up empty in my search for you.  The way my heart longs to comfort you, but I find my self barefoot and pajama-clad in the hallway, wondering why I am out of bed.  The way I hesitate to share this haunting, only taking a deep breath to say words when I know my friend can listen compassionately at that moment.

This is close to my heart.  You are close to my heart.

Glory of Leaves

The left-over summer green leaves the glowing golden-orange leaves the electric yellow leaves the fire-y red leaves the darkened purple leaves the daily changing leaves the crisp crunchy leaves the wind-blown rustling leaves the bright blue backdrop to the leaves the sun shining through the leaves the soon-to-be-jumped-in leaves proclaim the glory of the Lord
The God of all nature
Creator of Beauty
Master Craftsman
Who made everything glorious

Joy in ME

The giddy kind of joy.  The one you cannot contain.  It giggles and grins and jumps up and down.  You can see it coming as it does a little jig and gives spontaneous bear hugs along the way.  It doesn't care what it looks like as it shrieks excitedly and bursts into song.  It is all-consuming and contagious.  I see it in my kids on a daily basis - with the pride of accomplishment or the delight in a seemingly small treasure.  To picture that joy on God?  To picture that delight because of me?  Not because of what I have done today, not because of my successes, not because I have it all together.  Just because I am me.  He takes great delight in me.  In who I am.  He rejoices over me with singing.  On that day when I sit on the couch and hide my tummy from even myself,  when I regret yelling at my child, when I know I could have accomplished so much more, when I hate that I ate too much, when I feel lazy and ugly and unlovable.  No matter what I have done or not done, He delights and rejoices in me like a giddy 4-year-old.

Join In

The Creator I love and adore, the One I am training the eyes of my soul to look to every chance that I get, the one that I praise for His glory and grace, He is the One who made you, my son.  He formed your adorable dimples and stunning eyes.  He knit together the muscles that have such talent in sports.  He connected the wires of your brain that can learn math and maps in an instant.  And he placed within you passions and gifts to love and serve others in your own unique way.  I don't want to be so busy looking for the thing I value, that I'm missing what God put in you.  There is nothing wrong with you learning to see the world and those in it in many ways.  But I don't want to push my ways on you in a way that they eclipse yours.  I want to join in with what God is already doing in you.

Father, direct my exploration to where you have gifted Niko so that I can help him understand and develop those gifts.  Guide my curiosity as I live with eyes wide open to see where his passions align with his gifts, so I can better nudge his soul and character into who you are growing him to be.

No Reason Not To and Every Reason To

I'm not sure why people get excited about open letters to someone else's children detailing what they all need to know and hope they understand about sexuality.  I don't get how 'liking' a letter such as that has any affect on your child's understanding and idea of a healthy sexual perspective and relationship.  You feeling like a letter says it all doesn't do anything for your kid.  Even you writing a letter to your kid doesn't do much for your kid.  It's got to be part of life and learning and conversation regularly and over time.  Like everything else we teach them is.

If I wouldn't wait for one awkward sit-down conversation to teach my kids about other important things, why this one?  If I wouldn't dread and avoid teaching my kids other stuff, why this?  If I wouldn't shy away from their questions that lead to anything else, why sex?

I'm willing to share knowledge and information and truth - in kid-sized words and portions, of course,- about everything else, so I need to do it here too.  And in fact, many times, as parents, we volunteer this information when the kids are not even asking for it (hygiene, manners, discipline, faith, etc).

There is nothing wrong with sex.  There is much significance and responsibility surrounding sex.  So no real reason not to talk about it.  And every reason to talk about it.

I will tell my kids simple true things about sex very early and all the time because:
- I don't want it to be a vague thing they piece together from other kids, adults, media, and innuendo.
- I don't want them to first hear about it somewhere other than home.
- I want to have the biggest say in how they are hearing and processing the information.
- They are surrounded by people having babies and naturally ask questions.  It seems unfair and completely pointless to deny them the answer.
- I want it to be a natural conversation like any other topic they ask or wonder about, as opposed to this thing I talked about one time while reading a carefully chosen book.
- They learn and process best by hearing things slowly and naturally over and over, as opposed to one or two critical conversations.
- It's important for them to know their body and what it is for.
- I want to be able to talk to them about it during the years when it will really matter.
- God made sex and it is good.

I don't know how to achieve all those ideals without making sex a part of honest and commonplace conversations in our normal life.  So even in the moments when it feels a bit awkward to me to talk about it, I'm taking a deep breath and faking that I'm okay with it all.  Because I want to be talking about it openly.  Because it's important to be talking about it openly.  So that they will be talking about it openly.

Love that Surpasses Knowledge

To know this love that surpasses knowledge is overwhelmingly beautiful.  The God who has the capacity to love so extravagantly that he sacrificed his own son for humanity chooses also to love just me.  In my smallness and ordinariness, He loves me fiercely and inexplicably.

The way Emerson cannot possibly fathom how my heart skips a beat when I turn my head and can't see him and races with every passing minute that I search for him.  So His love surpasses my knowledge.  But more.

The way Niko cannot fully grasp how my hear swells with pride and glows with honour when I overhear him tangibly live out any one kind, loving, generous, gentle ideals I have been teaching and modelling for years.  So His love surpasses my knowledge.  And even more.

The way Lachlan cannot picture the depth of emotion my heart experiences when a moment of delight becomes a shared look of admiration, which turns into a smile, which gives way to a clumsy hug and sloppy kiss.  So His love surpasses my knowledge.  Yet more and more.

Extreme
Excessive
Lavish
Extravagant
Unfathomably huge
Inexplicably colossal
Deep and wide

Words cannot describe what my mind cannot know.

Yet this love is the love I know.
To know this love is a privilege and honour.
To know this love means everything and changes everything.
To know this love is intimate.
To know this love is experiential.
To know this love that surpasses knowledge
surpasses knowing anything
or anyone or anywhere else
This Love Surpasses

Learning Beauty

Rhythmic falling of runners on pavement
rain falling stunningly fragrant
Despite the desired perfection of the connection
between my reflection and my soul direction
lies call out, unrelenting in their misrepresenting

Go for a run, they holler smugly
or you'll gain a tonne, Big and Ugly.
The standard's way above you;
reach it now or he won't love you.
It's a pity you're not itty-bitty
or you'd have a chance at being pretty
My hunch is your lack of crunches will only add uns to your uns.
Undesirable
Unadmirable
Unlovable in my head
Untouchable in my bed
Unenduring in youth
Unalluring in truth
You need to earn beauty, say the mean voices
But I know there must be umpteen choices

It starts out gentle, this mental battle
cloaked in truths, it is still a judgmental sentiment
and detrimental to my fundamental elements

By now my ritual is habitual
and my rebuttal anything but subtle.
He says I am altogether perfect in form
I know He speaks truth and that you're misinformed
He says I am beautiful and He made me so
I try to be dutiful and let these words grow
Day in and day out I choose them to be true
since I'm only me and You, well, You're You

You need to earn beauty, say the loud voices
turns out you need to learn beauty
and my soul rejoices

Hosea 2:14

Regardless of what came before.  Or, better yet, because of what has come before.  Because I am far away, which is only ever of my own doing.  Despite my apathy, stubbornness, laziness, disobedience, self-centredness, or whatever else is in the way.  You promise to win me back again.

I cannot even wrap my head around the way You work, Jesus.  Your love for me seems to know no bounds.  I am so small and insignificant without you.  And in my biggest moment of weakness and sin, You reached out and offered me this indescribably valuable gift of salvation.  Eternal life with You in heaven one day.  Powerful life with You here on earth right now.  Only because you love me.  Only because you want to.  As if you haven't done enough, Your love only grows.  You pursue me. You pursue me when I go astray.  When I get lost or scared or absorbed in my own selfish life, there You are being the One to initiate, to try, to call, seek.  You promise to win me back again.

Like the most perfect of lovers, You follow and watch with only love in Your eyes.  You wait for the moment I just might be receptive and then You put Yourself out there again.  You make Yourself vulnerable to me.  For me.  You remind me of what we had.  Of when we were happy.  Of what my life was like with You.  You reach out, tentatively, to touch my hand.  Testing the waters.  When I wince, You whisper with even more love and gentleness, turning my heart back into mush and I find myself falling for You all over again.  You stroke my arm and I know You are the One that I am made for.  You step toward me and I lean into your embrace.  You speak tenderly to me and win me back once again.

My Portion

On days when I am very conscious of eating and living health-ily, my portion is deliberate and I am focussed on what my body needs, not what my taste buds want.  I eat things that are good for me, giving me the energy and strength I need to be active and alert.

Some days I feel down and tired and my food intake reflects that.  I might need a pick-me-up part way through the day that I wouldn't even think of on other days.  An ice-cold Pepsi, some chips and salsa, or a chocolate chip cookie might be the only thing that hits the spot.  And while my physical body might not need it, per se, my emotional hunger is equally important at times.  

Other days for other reasons, the food I eat is part of a social situation.  Out with friends or at a special event, my portion may be vastly larger and more frivolous than average.  It reflects the atmosphere of fun and frivolity in which it is being consumed.  It is almost symbolic of the relaxing and enjoying that is going on around it.

My portion.  My portion is what I have allotted to eat.  What I have eaten.  What I have needed to eat.  What fills my physical need or emotional need.  

Need.  Whether it is big or small, my portion is reflective of the circumstances and needs around it.  

Psalm 119:57

You are my portion, Lord.

Some days you provide my strength and energy.  You are good for me and almost functional in a way.  Other days you fill an emotional need that is deep.  You pour into a crevice that needs healing.  Still other days the portion you provide is in excess - symbolic of your lavish and overflowing love for me.  

Regardless of how or why or when or how much I need you on any given day at any given moment, you are my portion.  You are all I need.  All I need.  My needs change hour by hour, but you are all I need.

Thank you, Jesus, for being my praiseworthy portion.

No One Ever Spoke

Your voice
Your words
Your guts
Your compassion
Your glory
Your power
Your courage
Your charisma
Your sermons
Your lead-by-example
Your meekness
Your grace
Your obedience
Your gentleness
Your comfort
Your silence
No one ever spoke the way this man does.  John 7:46
The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.  John 1:14
Today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts.  Hebrews 3:7

Rapt with Anticipation

Dipping my paddle in for the first stroke and pushing off shore, I am rapt with anticipation.  The details of what lies ahead are unknown; our route is charted yet the many variables mean things could veer substantially off of our loosely laid plans.  I don't have a clue what the weather or terrain will bring, both of which will greatly affect our excursion.  Adventures are bound to be had, some of which will be funny and some of which will require gritting my teeth and hoping that they will one day make entertaining stories.  There is bound to be much joy and wonder.  There is also bound to be pain and difficulty.  It all comes with the canoe trip territory.

And I am rapt with anticipation.

How is it that I can voluntarily venture into completely unknown paths with the confidence that rain or shine, windy or calm, easy or difficult I want to be here and experience it all?  Because I know that the experience in all its forms and facets is powerful and somehow leaves me wanting more.

Are there other arenas of my life I could approach the same way?  

Today, God, I am choosing to adore that you are the God who leads me on paths I have not known.  You are the God of adventure.  You are the God who goes before me into unknown and uncharted territory.  Paths I have never seen to lookouts I did not know existed.  It is very possible that there is nothing safe about following you there, yet perhaps I can approach these feats of mystery knowing that whether they are easy or difficult, whether I feel equipped or not, whether they are familiar or not, whether they are full of joy or pain, I can be rapt with anticipation.  Anticipation that you are leading and you can do so much good.  God, You are awesome and if You are the one guiding me along unfamiliar paths, then You can teach me abundantly along the way.

Creator of the New Me

God you are the Creator of me
and the Creator of the new me
the one I don't always recognize
but really quite like
The new me created with new capacities
for righteousness
for holiness
for godliness
not because I'm trying harder
but because you made it that way
Thank you for making me who I am in the first place
and thank you for the soul-overhaul that screams of you
That gives fire to my passions
success to my abilities
direction to my desires
meaning to my moments
Your love
in all its height and width and depth
breathed creative life into me
on the day of my salvation
And on every day of insight
my faith grows higher and wider and deeper
All praise and glory and honour and thanks
To you
the Creator of this new me

Looking-Glass

This looking-glass warps time as I see the future and the past at once.  In your checkered shorts and polo shirt, you're all ready for this morning's photo shoot.  You were surprised by your own handsomeness as you looked in the mirror while getting ready and I nearly died of cuteness while attempting not to giggle.  Trying hard to do everything the photographer asked, you were so grown up, taking this so seriously and wanting to do your best.  With your arms folded across your chest, it was like junior high was around the corner.  Yet laying on your back and looking into the camera, your face shone just like it did when she took the same photo of you at age one.  She made you say the kind of silly boy things that I can picture making you laugh until you are 15 - or maybe 50.  But the laugh they elicit shows those dimples and you are just a chubby-faced toddler again.  Your eyes sparkle as though you both know this is just a game to make you smile and still you can't help losing yourself in the goofiness of it.  Your shaggy hair is adorably tousled from the front and a testament to your big-kid-grow-it-out plans in the back.

All alone with you, I have the luxury of remembering so many of your firsts (because they were my firsts too) and imagining where your character will take you as it evolves with age.  You and I, right now, we are living in a little muddled puddle where past and future amalgamate in cloudy confusion and neither of us quite knows whether you are big or little.  It's a messy, mesmerizing mesh of worlds.

As You have Loved Me

As I have loved you, so you must love others.

As You have loved me.  Just like You have loved me.  In the same way that You have loved me.

God who models love, no wonder there is such a desire in me to love well.  It only makes sense that You who love with every breath, would place that urge in my heart.  I am, after all, made in your image and you model love in ways my heart longs for.

Lavishly.  There is such extravagance about you.  All loving things done in excess; undeserved grace given in abundance.  Without thought of it being wasted, you rain down your blessings on me.  Nothing I have ever done or ever will do could bring out this extraordinary love.  It is just who you are.

Unconditionally.  We toss this word around without considering its weight.  When I think of what it means for you to love me unconditionally...I am stupefied.  To love me unconditionally means you must love every single hidden dark ugly corner of my soul.  You love me when I am right there next to you keeping in step with your movements in my life and world.  You love me when I am far from you, indifferent to your thoughts and will.  You love me entirely independent of what I do or where I am or whether I am choosing to be in relationship with you.  Which means that I hurt you - a lot.  And you love me in the middle of that.

Fiercely.  With all-consuming passion, you love me.  With tears of ecstasy and joy, you created me just so.  With tears of pain and agony, you died for me.  You are emotionally invested in me.

Thank You for loving me lavishly, unconditionally, and fiercely.  Thank You for modelling love that I can strive for.  Thank You for loving me as a Father, Husband, Friend, Saviour, Brother, Creator, Redeemer, and King.  I would never be anything without Your love.  Thank You for putting Your love inside me.  Thank You for teaching and enabling me to love by loving me first.

Strong-Maker

He screams when his clothes get even the teeniest bit wet and we've been through this a thousand times before and he can recite the solutions and he knows it's trivial and temporary and he is fully aware that we hate his response and that most kids don't react that way and that it's actually kind of irrational to freak out about it and yet he screams when his clothes get wet and I cannot.

He hits his brother on the head and it's not fair because he is way bigger and stronger and he knows he shouldn't be doing it and he could solve the problem with words and he could just walk away and he could avoid time-outs and punishments and anger and fights and disappointment and he could choose to let it go and still he doesn't hardly ever and it happens twelve times a day and I cannot.

That's the thing, is that it happens so often.  If my kid was a monster the odd time, I think I'd be okay.  But he whines a lot.  And he overreacts more than he reacts.  And he instigates fights.  And can be aggresive.  And wild.  And obnoxious.  And deliberately disobedient.  And in so many moments, he is none of the things I am teaching and guiding and striving and hoping and praying and working and speaking and modelling.  Sometimes I am desperately wondering what to do next.  Most times I am just wondering what I have done wrong.

Because I cannot.

I cannot even imagine how to turn this behaviour around.  I have tried so many things.  When I sit back and look at the situation, I am rational enough to see that I am doing things right.  And yet, I cannot see the way through.  Nothing I do matters.  Nothing I do is enough.  I am so helpless.  So hopeless.  So insignificant.  So weak.  So incompetent.  So exhausted.  So ashamed.

But He speaks.

That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in tantrums, in exhaustion, in meltdowns, in helplessness.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.

And I must speak back, whether I believe it yet or not is irrelevant.

Jesus, you are the strong-maker.  But you don't just make me strong by using my areas of gifting, ability, and confidence.  You make strength from utter weakness.  From this exact arena in which I feel nothing but incompetence as I watch day after day of failure.  That is where you make strength flourish.

Power, energy, spirit, fortitude, resilience, power, influence, supremacy.  All those things?  In my weakness?  Because of you and only you.   It doesn't make sense by my logic, but you are in the business of turning things upside-down.  If anyone can make me strong where I am weak, it is you.

God who makes me strong.  God, you make me strong.  The 'evidence' of feelings and of results aside, I choose to believe that here in my day-to-day struggles with Niko's behaviour, you make me strong.  In my moments of helpless, hopeless weakness, you make me strong with the strength that can only come from above.

One day, maybe I will understand why the weakness was necessary.  But in the meantime I will cling to your truth and declare it back to you.

You turn my utter-weakness into strength.

Why God is Not Good

"Everyone has at least one, most a half dozen or more: Life-reasons, my reasons, to believe that God is not good.  To believe that God is not who He says He is."

Mine:
- my body * My constant years-long battle to accept my shape and that it is beautiful.  To embrace its quirks and curves as lovingly made my its Creator, stop wishing them away in the mirror, stop checking if that last run shrunk anything.
- autism * Falling in love with several kids who have autism and struggling to reconcile such a debilitating disorder with a loving Creator.  Watching families struggle and kids pull away inside themselves.
- Timo * Losing a friend too soon.  Losing him in such a traumatic way.  Watching it eat at Karen and our group.
- miscarriage & stillbirth * Grieving with friends.  Seeing how baby loss hurts for a lifetime and being so helpless.
- parenting * Experiencing the biggest joy and the one thing I always knew I wanted to do.  And then realizing how difficult it is.  Loving my son, and simultaneously hating so much of what he does.  Feeling ashamed that I am ashamed of his behaviours.  Trying everything in my power and creativity only to see no change.

Each of these thing, I carry around with me always.  Some are fairly surface, but some have such such deeply entangled roots.  They affect how I see Jesus and how I see everything and everyone around me.  They stunt my ability to grow in faith.  Depending how close they are to the surface at any given moment, they dictate my responses to my husband, my children, my friends, my God.

This is why I need to adore.  If I become what I behold, then I need a paradigm shift.

Here goes.

These Have been Percolating

All from Sara Hagerty's blog, Every Bitter Thing is Sweet:

- Adoration takes me out of my thoughts and into His.

- Everyone has at least one, and most a half dozen or more: Life-reasons, my reasons to believe that God is not good.  To believe that God is not who He says He is.  They are a hidden handicap.  We carry them around negligently, as if we can live life fully alive and still have them...Without God's encounter they are toxic for our hearts...My calling, my family, my friendships, my view of Jesus are all subject to how I see Him in light of my "not yet".

- Adoration is breathing deeply of who He is and exhaling purity.  It's training my mind and heart to look up.

- Adoration wars against a life lived in response to our wounds.

- No asks, no pleas, just simply telling God how great He is.  And then asking Him to remind you how that greatness in print in front of you has already taken shape in your life before you.

- When you can't get out of a deep, dark hole, you make a garden there.  Any way to find beauty.

- Turning my mind from my own depravity to His glory.

- Beholding.  I'm learning to behold something other than myself, craving the One I've been beholding, because how could I not?  Enough glances towards this Man and words overflowing from those looks and I'm starting to believe He is who He says He is.  In my daily, for my daily life.

The Shoes that Weren't

The shoes that revealed most of his feet.

Soles and tops barely connected.

His dirty, dust body.

His torn clothes and disheveled hair.
An awkward lump in the back of the bus.

An awkward lump in my throat.

I don't know poverty.

And I don't know what to do it.

It makes me silent.

Uncomfortable.

Self-conscious.

Aware of my sheltered, privileged life.

Surprised at how close it is.

Unequipped to help well.

A bit unsafe.

And embarrassed that I feel that way.

Reminded how little my kids know.

Burdened with the need to pass on information;

Information I myself don't know how to process.

The blind leading the blind.

Which I'm pretty sure is a bad thing.

But not as bad as those shoes.

Just Say Go

Jesus, what do you want me to do?  I want to love so big.  I don't want to sit here and pour everything into my kids.  I want to pour into those you have called me to love and have it spill over onto my boys as I go.  I want to teach and guide and enrich and open my kids' worlds as you do all those awesome and terrifying things to mine.  My family doesn't have to be my end goal.  I can raise them while carrying my cross.  You have a calling on my life that includes but is not limited to motherhood.  I want to use my gifts and passions to love those who You would have me love.  And my kids will learn more and love more if they live alongside me for Jesus than if I alone am their saviour.  So I don't want to wait.  I want to be faithful in adventurous, exciting, risk-taking, meaningful, heart-altering ways today.  Just say go, Jesus.

Helicopter

Your  mom loves you, oh the whole world can see that she loves you, little man.  Her love seeps out of every word and look and touch and action.  And she is trying her very best for you.  This mothering thing has taken over every inch of her body and soul and energy and waking hour.  She is in it with all of her being.  For you.  And I can see that you know it.  Every fall, every hurt, every wrong done to you hurts her too.  She will protect you and fight for you and defend you until the bitter end.

I'm just sorry she doesn't believe in your independence, dude.  You are on the brink of being able to do so many great things.  Things you could do if she would step back.  Things you would do if she would stop offering you a way out, a way back to her arms.  You would be nervous, of course, but the pride and confidence you would gain from tackling big things would be incredible.  It would be so exciting to watch you thrive and grow.  YOU would be so excited to see yourself as someone who can.

A Little Farther Up the Parenting Road

In this weekend's warp-to-the-future experience, I got to see my cousin's family with kids ages 7 to 11.  Their 16-month average gap between kids is even more ambitious than our 19- and 21-month gaps.  To watch them on the flip-side of tantrums and hitting and dependence was a tantalizing tease and also an energizing encouragement.

As they talk of the difficulty of the two's and three's it is with such a different perspective than most of the stories I hear.  Because the stories that surround me are told in the exhausted voices of those in the middle of these hope-sucking challenges.

But these guys?  They are a few miles ahead on the parenting road.  They remember well the aroma of a dirty diaper and the pitch of a frenzied tantrum, yet their memories are of years gone by - not of yesterday morning.  They have already persevered, shed tears, prayed for wisdom, and come out victorious on the other side.

And the other side looks amazing.  Calm voices and tempered emotions.  Skills and independence.  Responsibility and helpfulness.  Respect and reason.  And also so much of the good I am already familiar with.  Jokes and sillies.  Hugs and cuddles.  The joy of accomplishment.

I will not dream endlessly of the days to come.

But I will try to keep their perspective in mind when fighting the daily battles and struggling with strong wills.  It is worth it.  It is for a purpose.  One day I will see what I have been working, sweating, praying, hoping, loving, guiding, disciplining, explaining, teaching, striving, and believing for.  At that point parenting won't be accomplished, but it will have changed.  And at the lowest point of the day or the week, all I need is the hope that the challenges will change.