Personal update 2: the cabin

The cabin.

The writing retreat.

I had hope that with more than 24 hours to myself, my laptop and journals and music, I could somehow process all the things going on inside of me for the last month and pour myself into the book.  Read, journal, write, process, pray, seek, and be led by God.

I have never had time like this before to work and to be honest, I was a little nervous with that much time by myself.

Can't you tell?

I want to share some things I came away with from the weekend, but first, I want you to see what I saw.  Here is my office set up.

This really was the perfect office.  Curled up on a couch, writing and reading and candles lit.  It was perfect.

This was my retreat view from where I sat.  It hailed most of the day, but by late afternoon, I got to out and take a walk.

I enjoyed light food and lots of coffee all day long.  I grazed, and when I was hungry, I ate, and yes I even drank coffee at 10 pm.  There were no rules.  The goal was to be inspired and find dreams and plans and words for the book.  It was perfect!  It was a day where I could go at a slower pace because I didn't have kids interrupting me every few minutes, or I wasn't restricted by a time frame surrounding naps or babysitters.  I could just be.

And then I took a refreshing walk to get all the pent up energy out of my blood.  I wanted to take this photo, because I stood in this spot for more than 15 minutes.  I stood and looked at the road stretched out before me.  I let the sounds of the lake and the country seep into my blood.  Sounds that are foreign to us where we live.  It felt like with every breath I took, more of the tension left my body, and more quietness and stillness entered it.  All the expectations started to cease to exist and only listening to the Lord seemed to matter.  I didn't want to move.  I wanted to stay in that spot until the only thing that remained were the answers.  But looking at the road ahead of me, I realized  I wasn't sure where the road led, but only the way to find out was to take one step at a time.

After my walk, I spent the evening wrapped in a blanket on the porch enjoying my new office.  A place full of peace and inspiration. 

So here is what I learned and discovered with my weekend in the wood.

1. I really enjoy time by myself.  I am good company.

2. You produce very different work when you aren't restricted by a time frame or deadline or children's needs.  I had the ability to really let the work come out of me, instead of rushing it, or throwing a bunch of words on paper hoping it sticks.  I could sit and ponder, and roll thoughts around my head and get the good stuff out on paper.  It was this amazing experience no to be rushed, but let thoughts and ideas and words formulate.

3. I got to work on my business, the book, my talk at the end of the month up in Duluth, my talk in the NE this fall, and my business concepst.  I had papers all over the floor with ideas and concepts and dreams and starting points for ministry.  It was this really amazing brainstorming session where I got to share my dreams with God, lay them out in front of me, and as I sat and prayed, I got hints of more ways to make them become a reality.

4. It is scary as hell to sit there in a cabin, all alone, with the time you have been asking for to make the dream come true, even one that you don't fully understand, and you have no more excuses.  I had no excuses.  I had to face my fear of this dream, the overwhelmingness of it.  I got to settle into those feelings.  Experience them.  I got to embrace it.  Look at it.  Evaluate it.  And most importantly, work towards. it.  It's easy to dream.  It takes a lot to actually work for it.

5. The closer I drove to the cabin, the more peace I felt.  While at the cabin, I felt inspired, I felt encouraged, I felt rested, I felt motivated, and I felt calm.  I'll confess I even danced a little bit with the music blaring and it felt wonderful.  I felt free.  And the words just came out of me.  I wrote a bunch of stuff I didn't even know I was thinking.  I wrote it, I looked at it, and I pondered on it.  I am excited to read what was going on in my head and my heart.  To process it and explore it.

It makes me very excited for my future.  As I said, I have felt like I am on the brink on something new and different.  This weekend was this incredible time of exploring that.  Of dreaming around it.  Of finding clues to what my future holds.

And I can't wait to share it with you.

I also walked away from this weekend with a secret love affair for a weekend away alone in the woods.  This may become my most spiritual exercise.  I hope.

Personal update 1

I don't know where to begin.  So I'll just start and hope I finish where the story begins.

I remember two distinct times that I felt completely insecure which then led to total fear.  The first time was in High School when the boy I had a crush on for a very long time told me he liked me. I know it sounds like that would be a dream come true, but the truth is, I had been living a double life up until about that time, and I was incredibly lost and broken and confused.  I felt unworthy, and hypocritical and stupid and foolish and most like every bad teen movie.  I was a cliche, which made it even worse.  I didn't know who I was, so I spent years making every wrong choice to find the right one.  I couldn't say yes to him because he didn't know the bad choices I had made.  I was scared that he might see how lost I was.  He thought I was great, and I didn't think I was.  He saw good in me, and all I could see was the bad.  I wasn't good enough.  And so I said no. Then I graduated High School and almost immediately moved away.  Running scared of...myself, really.

The idea is the same when I got my first real speaking gig.  I was chosen to be the keynote speaker to 850 students my first time out.  That was a big deal for me.  And I was overcome with feelings of insecurity.  I kept thinking, who am I that I was chosen for this role?  They have this image of me that just doesn't feel true.  If they really knew me, they wouldn't like me.  They would have picked someone better.  I am not good enough for this.  Clearly I was still wrestling with self acceptance and fighting hard to make the right choices and be who I thought I was supposed to be.  

Still fearful to really lean into who I was.  

To say the things I really thought.

To feel like being me was the best choice.

There are lots of things to say about my past and history and all these emotions, and I can't get into all of it here.  But there are a couple things I want to pull out of these experiences.

First, the more we try to hide who we really are, the more disconnect there is.  We create the two selves, the one every one sees, and the one no one sees.  Then we have no one to blame but ourselves for no one really knowing who we are, because we don't trust them to know. This existence is lonely and sad and full of doubt and regret.  Regret because you realize you are never really living your life. Second, the only thing insecurity gives us is a life lived in fear.  I am not sure where my insecurity came from, but I can attest to the life lived in fear.  I used to be so afraid of everything.  

Afraid to take chances, afraid to say what was really on my mind, afraid of making a mistake that I couldn't come back from, afraid of just being me.  I don't know why, and at this point, most of the time I don't care why.  I do know I don't want to live that way.  I desire to be brave and courageous and take chances and do things my way, instead of the way everyone else is doing it.  It took me a long time to get to that point.  A lot of prayer and hard work and conversations with my husband who has stuck by it all and loved me anyway. I don't really live in a place of insecurity anymore.  The fear creeps up every now and then when I am trying new projects or talks, but surrendering them and pushing through it comes easier. That's why I can so easily recognize these feelings when they creep back in.  They are huge red flags for me, because as I said, I generally like myself.  

I'm not insecure anymore, which is why this last month has been so overwhelming for me, and why I haven't written really about anything.  (If you don't remember, the book campaign happened this month.) To write about anything that has happened this past month,  I must first confess to the gut wrenching truth. I must tell you that I am scared out of mind.  I wish to be courageous and brave and fearless, but I'm not yet there. Henry called me out on it very early on during the campaign to raise money for the book project.  He would hear me self doubt and cut down and one day he interrupted me and said, "I never realized you were so insecure."  My response was, "I'M NOT!  What's wrong with me?" Doing the campaign was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in recent years.

It may seem like my earlier experiences have nothing to do with this moment now in my life, but in actuality, it has everything to do with it.  Except, this time, there was no mask or double life. See, the thing is I have made my career and my life to be as open as possible.  After spending so much of life trying to be someone I wasn't or running from who I was, or whatever my problem was, I promised myself that no matter how hard it was to be truthful, to be vulnerable and open, I would try.  Even if I was ashamed of how I dealt with something, or the way I felt, I would be honest.  I would embrace everything about me and invite my audience into that space with me.  I will often joke with Henry that when we take the stage together, I always come across as the big hot mess who needs counseling and he has it all together.  But that’s who I am, and that is why people hire me.  I am not two people anymore.  It’s just me.  But now that it’s just me, the vulnerability is even harder, because there is no hiding.

It may seem silly to you, but it was incredibly difficult to put together a campaign asking for money to support a book that my partner and I want to write.  I wasn't asking for your help for Haiti.  I wasn't asking you to support a child in need in a third world country.  I wasn't asking for money for any noble cause.  I was asking for myself.

That changes everything.

I had to publicly put myself out there and say, “Hey!  Do you see me?  Do you like me?  Help me make a dream come true!”  And that’s fine and great, until you realize you might not get the money.

Then what?

It’s like waiting to get picked for the kickball team all over again, except its just not your class that knows no one wants you, it would be everyone. 

That month of the campaign had me praying for God to release this hold on my heart more than I can ever remember.   I didn't want you all to have power over me.  I only wanted to care about being obedient to God’s call in my life.

But the trick is, to be obedient to that, I needed the money, which meant I needed to pay attention to the campaign and ask.  I had to put myself out there, over and over and ask for help.  Ask you to believe in me.

And then you did.

But you didn't just give to meet the goal, we surpassed every goal we had and more money than we budgeted.  I am still having a really hard time wrapping my head around that one.  My heart was pounding a mile a minute the day we surpassed our goal.  It wasn't a dream anymore, it was reality.

HOLY CRAP it is now a reality!

Now I can't run or hide or be lazy.  You said you believed in me, in us, and now we get to do something amazing.

Have you ever felt like sometimes it easier to sit on your couch and dream of all the really cool things you could do, and in your imagination, you are awesome, talented, you don't screw up because you know exactly what you are doing, and you win everyone over because you're amazing?  But because you know deep down, that really isn't reality.  Reality looks like hard work and trying over and over and making mistakes and taking risks and lots of practice.  And in the end, the risk that you might not even be very good at the thing that you dream of doing with your life.

I think that's why we sit on our couch.  Our imagination version of ourselves could never compare to the reality of who we are.  People who are risks takers, brave and courageous  the people who don't leave life with regrets are the one's who kill and bury the dream version of themselves and instead, just live their life.  They embrace their real self and go for it, leaving it all out on the table.

I have a tendency to be the couch sitter.  But I am tired of that.  I want to be a dreamer, a risk taker, a brave spirit with no regrets.

That's why I feel overwhelmed.  Not by the to-do list, though it is extensive.  I am trying to embrace a new reality and truth for myself.  I am trying to forge a new way of really, truly embracing all of me, letting go of all false selves and live my dream.

I asked you to believe in me and you did.  Can you even comprehend what that means for someone who spent so much time hiding away?  Again, overwhelmed.

So many of you went out of your way to encourage me, say nice such kind words about my ministry and my dream.  I didn't ask that of you, you volunteered it, willingly.  Again, overwhelmed.

Even more of you said that by pursuing this dream, you felt inspired to want to do more with your dreams.  That is HUGE!  I am so humbled and honored to be apart of that process that God is doing in your life.  Again, overwhelmed.

I sit on the brink of a new beginning to my ministry and our life.  Something has shifted and changed in my career.  I can't explain it fully, but I can tell, things are beginning, or shifting, or changing.  I still am a little nervous, because I don't know what that means, but I know that God is in this with me, and my husband and my children.

Feeling this emotionally overwhelmed the last month has made it hard to process.  So I went to a friends cabin for the weekend as a personal retreat.

That is part two of this story.

Stop Traffick

I haven't written in a bit, and for me this is the perfect thing to come back with.  I couldn't think of a more urgent issue than to address this one.

There is a dear friend of mine who is a well known national speaker and founder of HappyFunTime Industries that is writing and directing a short film called "Stop Traffick".

Wes and his team of people are cut from some of the highest quality of work you can find.  His intelligence, his heart and his persistence for true interpretation is amazing to watch, because he balances it with humor, honesty and grace.  It is a pleasure to call him a colleague.

When I saw that they were doing this project, I grew so excited for the prospect of what it means for this issue.  For such a high quality product to be out there to draw attention to a very serious issue that I believe gets overlooked here in America.  When I told Wes I wanted to blog about it, he sent me this info.  Please, please, please check it out!

Did you know that over 100,000 

American

 children are trafficked for sex. Or that the average age is 13? Human trafficking is an assault on our youth. But the tide is turning. And Wes and his team of Hollywood filmmakers are taking this problem seriously.  

Here is what Wes has to say:

"We think the problem lies in ignorance. But we know that film is a powerful educator! 

We want to produce 'Stop Traffick,' 

a short film shot in Las Vegas, NV and Bakersfield, CA as it tells a startling story of trafficking... and HOPE... in America"

But this film, starring Stephen Baldwin (The Usual Suspects, Midnight Clear) and Lauren Sweetser (Winter's Bone), can't be made without our help. 

The next 7 days of donations are critical to our mission of immediate intervention and education. Every hour and every dollar counts!

You can also learn more about Wes's partnerships with organizations that are on the front lines battling Human Trafficking. 

Your immediate donation matters

...it will fuel a film that will help combat Human Trafficking… a problem we know can be solved in our lifetime!

Keep fighting the good fight!

After watching the video, if you were effected at all,  PLEASE pass this blog along, re post it, tweet it, donate to it, blog about it, tell others.  We are talking about real lives here.  Lives trapped in slavery.  Lives that matter.  That is the key isn't it?  The issue of the value of someone else's life.  By donating even a small amount to this project, you give value to a young girls life.  You tell her she is worth it.  You tell her, that even if no one else see's her, you see her.  You gave to change her life.

Please, check out this project, and give any little bit you can.

Thank you Wes and your team of people for giving a voice to this.  For spending time and money away from your families to help in anyway possible bring a voice to these young women.  We want to partner with you and give hope where there is none.

Thank you.

Inspiration breeds inspiration

I had mentioned either here or in person how in our home we try to read scripture together every morning.  We do that not because we feel we have to, or because this is what good Christian's do.  Honestly we do it because of our philosophy of Big Picture Parenting.  We believe that as our children leave our home every morning and attend school, we want the word of God in their heart.  We want them to know scripture, to feel comfortable searching God's word for insight into his heart and to really know what God says about life and love.  To really know God and not just what people say about him.

Then I went and had a play date with a friend of mine a couple months ago.  As we were sitting in her kitchen, she had index cards covering her walls with scripture written on them.  As I took a closer look, she had the first couple dozen chapters of Proverbs up.

I fell in love.

I asked her what was going on with all the proverbs posted on her wall and her response was, "I got the idea from you."

I had a look of total confusion.  We have never done anything like this, so it didn't really feel like my idea.  "I don't get it" was my response.

She told me that she appreciated how much we were trying to create a love of God and his word in our children.  She said as her and her husband were trying to raise up their kids, they wanted God's wisdom strong in their mind and in their heart.  

I Love it!!!

See, I pray for God's wisdom over my children almost as much as I cook their meals.  These young boys and girl are faced with choices every day about who they are, who they are going to be, and what they stand for.  Choices of fitting in, going along with the crowd, sticking up for the kid getting picked on, helping someone in need, it will never end.  I want them filled with the knowledge of God's love and his desire for their life.

So instead of just praying wisdom over my kids, this felt like the perfect compliment to put it in their hearts.

The proverbs are also an easy way to find just a couple of verses to read in the morning.  A couple verses read, then discussed leaves us with a perfect small 5-10 min devotion.  It has sparked such great conversations and questions from the kids, and having them written down, on days when we don't have time for a new one, we can pick one off the door and read it again.

The other great benefit of having it written down and up where we can see all the time, is I can stop and read encouragement every time I  need it.

The best part of all this...

I shared a desire of my heart and a small tradition that I do with my kids.  Another mother took that idea and made it her own.  I saw what she did and she inspired me to follow suit and take it another step further.

This is the best part of living life publicly   The way our hearts, our desires, our traditions can inspire others and in turn, we can be inspired by them.

Thank you Jessica!

Social, ethical, parental responsiblity

In times of crisis, I wish I had a medical degree.  I wish I had the freedom to pick up and go to where help is needed.  To comfort people in despair.  To organize volunteers.  To lift away debris and bring the hurting to help.

To work.

To help.

To love.

To be human.

But I can't.

There are people here in this house who desperately need me to survive.  They need me here, and so I can't be there.

When tragedy strikes, and I hate to admit that most of the time it is news on main stream media that I hear due to my lack of media watching and listening, I can't seem to tear myself away.

Today was no different.

We don't turn the TV on, because seeing the images of blood streaking the Boston streets would only serve to put fear and anger in my children.  And so I listened to the radio in the kitchen while I cooked.  Even when it felt like too much, I had a sense that if I turned the radio off, I would be turning my blind eye or deaf ear to the situation.  It felt wrong to leave the tragedy, when so many others couldn't.

And yet, you have to.  Not forget I mean, but take a breather.  Let it sink in.  Allow the gravity of the situation to have it's rightful place.

In these moments I often wonder what my role is.

Where is my responsibility in this?

I think about my children sleeping in their beds right now.  I think about how impressionable they are.  I wonder on what their futures hold.  What battles they will have to fight as young men and women.

I really hate to admit that I have lived a long time in "retreat" mentality.  Pull away, live off the grid, stop all the media from being in my house, go simple, don't invest, it's too much out there, so I'll just live small in our own little world.

But really, all that means is that I escape all responsibility and I hide from being apart of the solution.  What my greatest sin with that way of living, is teaching my children to do the same. When I don't engage, they will never know how.

As parents it is critical that we understand the importance of what our job is.  If you have small children living in your home, then you understand the absolute power you have in your words and actions in shaping the minds and hearts of the young people who look up to you.  The way we engage, or ignore problems.  The words we use to describe hate crimes and those who hurt.  The way we talk about different cultures and religions.  Our words will directly shape the way our children see the world and the people in it.

Humans history is filled with wars and killings based on greed, power, selfishness  and sickness. It won't ever go away.  So how do we deal with that?

The only power I have right now, today in my circumstance is to raise up children who will desire to be apart of the solution, not the problem.  To be helpers.  To be supporters.  To be advocates.

To give my children a language to communicate their thoughts and feelings, so that talking through problems is the first solution.  To teach the power of communication, understanding, forgiveness, and compromise.

To install in my children a longing for justice and a heart for the wounded and hurt.

To equip them with the tools necessary to find solutions to problems.

To in every way possible, give them an acceptance of all people, without judgement so that they can see the man behind the culture, the religion, the uniform.

To talk about the scary things that happen in a space where it allows your children to voice their questions and concerns and worries and wonderings. 

To give them your thoughtful observations and passion against evil.

Today felt overwhelming.  The obvious tragedy brings with it a sense of hopelessness.  After the hopelessness came the urgency in the awareness of the responsibility of raising my children.

Raising them to not run from the fight, but equipping them to be prepared for it.

In my opinion, Jesus hasn't shown up yet, so I would rather we were a family who actively cared about the solution, instead of pretending that all the problems don't exist.

We have a responsibility as parents.  Our children are what we are giving to the world, to the next generation.  They will inherit all of our mistakes and all that is wrong and right with our world.  I will say it again, my greatest mistake will be not preparing them for that.

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   If God is for us, who can be against us?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.

When you are weary of the battle

I don't know about you, but I grow weary and tired of how hard it is to fight for what you want in life.  To battle all the things that threaten to take away your values and priorities and hope.

Everything the last few days has grated on my emotions.  Feelings that felt raw and ready to explode for reasons I couldn't figure out.

I knew I was tired.

I knew I felt worn down.

I knew I felt like I wanted to give up, sit on my couch, eat ice cream and pop corn and drink wine and iced coffee.  Snuggle under a blanket and just read a silly book or watch TV all day.

I was tired of battling the kids, myself, our neighborhood, our budget, my time, the book...well everything, and I craved relief.

I wanted relief from all the intentionality that we try to live in.

I wanted a break from all the rules and guidelines.

When talking with Paul this afternoon about why, "Why are we so easily frustrated and cranky, and so ready to give up?"  We realized it was because we are always fighting.

We are fighting for our kids faith in God.  We battle to find the time to invest in devotions, conversations, intentional time dedicated to exploring faith and what it means to believe in God in their world today.

We are fighting for our marriage.  We work hard on finding time to be together, trying to use communication that builds us up instead of tearing us down.  We evaluate all the time, what do you need to be OK?  How can I support you?  How can I love you during this hard time?  We are working hard on putting the needs of our spouse before our own.  To see the love of your life through the eyes of Christ.  To keep the spark alive.  To turn young love into something deep and rich and powerful that still contains magic and spark.

We are fighting for our safety.  How can we live in a place of trusting God to be enough and not living in fear, while still being safe in the choices we make?  Not making judgements on the kids walking around our neighborhood.  Not assuming that every person sitting in their car is there waiting on trouble, or that every person who knocks on our door is wanting to break in when we leave.  Our families safety is always, constantly present first and foremost in our mind.  We are always prepped for battle when it comes to our safety.

We are fighting for our money.  Money has a way of just disappearing and we are fighting to keep ours.  We are always aware of what we are spending, and fighting to keep money in our pocket so that we can be free from debt.

We are fighting for our own dream and for the dreams of our spouse.  Paul and I are both filled with ambition and determination and our greatest desire is to fulfill God's desire for our life.   It's hard in the mundane, every day chores and hurdles to fight for something bigger.  Something grand.  Something special that lives in your heart.  You have everyday choices that you have to weigh against the grand scheme of things.  This is one of the hardest things to fight for everyday.

When we intentionally live out our lives, it means we have evaluated and prayed and come to a set of standards of how we live our life.  How do we spend our time, our money, our resources?  Do these things hold up to the priorities and values that we live by?

But that also means that we just don't live carelessly anymore.   Everything we do at that point means something.

Most often however, if you have taken the time to evaluate your life and have decided to live by certain standards, those standards will grate against the lifestyles around you.  When that happens, what do you  do?

We have a choice to give up on our standards and value of living, or we fight.

We try to have a family meeting every week so that we can take stock of our resources and time and money as we evaluate all the options that we face every week that want our time, our money and our energy.

And so we choose to fight.

But you can't fight every moment of every day.  Some days, when the battle becomes too much and it tears down your spirit, you need to take a break.  You need to sit and pray and release control back to the creator who loves you.  You need to remember that God is still God and we are just one person in one moment in time.

And so we surrendered.  Not to our ideals and priorities, but to the God in charge of those ideals and priorities.  And in that surrender, it gives us strength to keep fighting.

 

1 whine =1 penny

I HATE Whining.  

When I say that, I mean it feels worse to me than the fingernails on a chalk board phrase.

I HATE whining.  And my kids do it. All. The. Time.

That's when I asked myself, "What would Bill Cosby do?"

What's funny is I have found myself asking that question a lot with my kids getting older.  I grew up on the Cosby show and they had such inventive, creative ways of dealing with their kids.  So what would Bill do?

Well, I am not sure that this is what they would do, but it got my creative juices flowing.

After so much whining and then so many frustrated "pleas" from mom about "stop whining", Paul and I got together, and decided we needed a plan.

We called a family meeting and discussed our two current issues that needed correction.  

Whining and Disobedience.

We sat the kids down and prayed first.  Praying has its all calming power to refocus everyone and get us all on the same page.  As much as 2, 5, and 7 year old can be on a page.  

We talked about how we wanted them to succeed and we talked about how much they were probably really tired of being corrected by mom and dad.  We wanted to create a way to help them and remind them about the things that come out of their mouth.

Then we brought the Bible out and read a few verses about honoring God with our words and whining.

Are you communicating with a self-controlled voice? (that NEVER happens here!)

How does God want you to communicate?

Titus 2:12 says, "Whining is an ungodly form of communication.  God wants you to use self control, even with our voice."

Also check out, Proverbs 25:28, Galatians 5:22-23, Ephesians 4:29, 2 Peter 1:5-8.  These helped us point our kids to WHY we ask them for certain behavior.

Then came the idea.  

The kids will get 10 pennies each morning.  (This idea actually came from the Bernstein Bears when Sister Bear was biting her nails.  Apparently, Paul and I are incapable of creating our own inventive parenting techniques.  We just steal from imaginary families.)  Every time they whine, they have to put a penny in the jar.  We went and got an old canning jar, and asked the kids what we should their money should go towards.  We decided to make it the "Car Repair Jar".  

So every time the kids whine, we save money for the next time our car is in the shop.  This will never amount to much, but we really liked the idea.  I had middle make a sign for the jar, (forget pinterest and all their fancy Martha Stewart like ideas, we just use scrap paper and markers.  We are old school, its cheaper.)  The next day we went to the bank to get a whole stash of pennies.

The kids were super excited because they started counting how many days they needed to be extra good to get a whole $1.  It lasted a day.  The second day, each kid lost four pennies.  At one point, Little looked at me, knowingly complained and whined about lunch while she marched right into her room and got two pennies to put in the jar as she finished her whining.  I laughed right out loud at her.  Wrong move I know, but I couldn't help it.

So here we are... the jar is filling up.  We don't argue as much about whining.  They whine.  We say, put a penny in the jar.  If they whine about putting a penny in the jar, that will cost you 2 pennies.  They have figured out that if they boldly say, "someone else is whining!"  they also put a penny in the jar.

It may sound silly or over the top, but did I tell you how much I can't stand whining?  This seems to be working.  Even Little now will catch herself, stop, and say what she wants to say instead of the old habit of IMMEDIATELY turning up the half cry/half baby talk to communicate what she wants.  I would say that is progress.

We tell our kids, we understand that whining will happen.  What we want from you is for this NOT to be your first choice of communication.  

But you know the thing about intentional parenting and communication and discipline?

If you aren't consistent, it doesn't work.

There have been a few times that Paul and I have looked at each other and said, "We just gave ourselves one more thing to manage and think about.  If we don't stay on top of this, then it won't work."  And yes that is true.

And though we still whine here in this house, because we are normal people who struggle to learn good habits, it is slowing working.  And every few days, or at least once a week, we ask the kids, why do we have a "NO WHINE" jar?  We want them to know its not just about how annoying it is, but that God desires better from us.  We can glorify him and honor others with the way we communicate.  That is why we do this.  (And it drives me nuts.)

And we raised $1.15 for our next car repair!!!!!

I don't which is harder, teaching our kids good habits or saving for the next time our car breaks down.

Who I am instead of who I want to be

I called up a friend the other day, one whom I haven't spoken to in awhile and we were casually chatting.  As with any conversation it was basic and going through the routines.

How is life?  The kids?  School?  The job hunt?  On and on and on.

It was fine.

It was comfortable.

It was socially normal and expected.

Then she asked about the book.

So a couple things went through my mind.  The first thing I said was, 

"It's fine.  It's going good.  Hard to write and find the time."  

And with all those things being truthful, I still wasn't revealing the true matter on my heart.

I was scared and spending far too much time caring about what other people thought.  I was worried that people won't like it, or they won't support it.  I hadn't prayed over it in awhile and had taken total control of the matter back in my own hands.

I know my friend would understand this truth.  I know she would pray with me and encourage me.  That wasn't the issue.

The truth is, I didn't want the be the girl who was struggling.  I didn't want to be the girl who had slipped in her faith and started to do it all on her own.  I didn't want to be the girl who had to learn a lesson, who after years of overcoming her insecurity, was feeling more insecure than ever before.

I wanted to be the girl who was doing it right.  Who didn't fall into temptation of making this book about me.  I wanted to be the girl who surrendered her will to God every morning, prayed without ceasing over her work, created good habits to make it happen and could do it all.  Doesn't that sound great?  It sounds like a wonderful story of great faith and spiritual leading.  I wanted that story.  I wanted to for once in my life do it the right way.  

But that wasn't what was happening.

And so, in a moment of feeling brave and wanting to be honest, I said what was true.  I decided not to be who I wanted to be, but who I really was instead.

"The book is going well, but I have noticed lately that I am far too scared about what others think.  My mind seems overrun with thoughts of feeling less than I am.  I am scared that someone else could do it better.  I worry that it will fail.  I get nervous thinking about how others will value the quality."

There. 

I had said it out loud.  The dark things that were crowding my brain.  The hard things that were taking away my faith.  After I say them out loud, I have to own that they are true.

To this, my friend encouraged me in my dream.  She filled my heart with kind and encouraging words. And then she said, "You need to read the book of Joshua.  Joshua is filled with courage and trusting God, and that is what you are doing.  You are doing something courageous and your ability to trust in God is the only thing that will carry you through.  Read Joshua and find comfort and truth in what you are doing."

All my tension and worry went away.  

This, right here, is why we are writing a book.

This is what the book is about.

In the midst of even our struggle and weak faith, and total control issues, God is still present and working.  When we are capable of taking off our expectations and ideals, and can be real with the people around us, God's truth becomes clear.  Friends, mentors, blogs, pastors, scripture, podcast, whatever and whenever you find it, truth can be revealed.

I was reminded that day to be honest.  It does no one any good to pretend to be something they are not. My honesty encouraged my friend, and she was able to encourage me as well.  She spoke encouragement and pointed me toward truth to heal my wound, my insecurity, and my weakness.

If I haven't told you yet here, I am telling you now.

My friend Henry and I are writing a book about stories.  Stories we live every day that hold deep spiritual truths.  These stories are used in communicating about our faith with others.  These stores enrich and encourage others.  These stories point towards heaven.  These stories bring heaven to earth.  They nurture love and forgiveness and God's ultimate power and goodness.  There is power in the stories we live here on earth.

We would love to share this project with you.  Henry and I are interested in making this a community project.  If you are interested in pre-ordering this book and supporting the writing process, please donate to our campaign at  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-than-a-story/x/2561912.

If you are interested in knowing more about the project after the funds are raised, during the writing project, please visit our website www.pearabull.com or like us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mightier-Press/301285753332675?ref=hl 

I am excited about this book.  I am also really excited about all the ways is shaping my heart and creating a deeper trust in him in regards to all the stories of my life.  Thank you for being apart of this journey.  Thank you for showing up and walking through life with us. 

Be blessed friends. 

The thing we don't talk about

Why don't we talk about sex?

I mean married people, why don't we talk about sex?

Especially sex after children.

I am convinced that we could fill books with horror stories about the times we accidentally walked in on our parents doing it and now we are just waiting for the day it happens to us.  Or all the ways we have to maneuver "quality time" with our spouse while our children watch TV, sleep, play outside, or even while having dinner.  I mean when five minutes presents itself, you just have to take it.

I had a friend tell me one time that her children wanted to know what her and her husband were doing in there for so long.

She told them they were jumping on the bed.

I remember how I felt right after we had each of our three children.  I had someone in my personal space every minute of every day.  I was holding someone, someone was pulling on my leg, someone was breastfeeding, and the worst was following me into the bathroom.  Don't get me wrong, I LOVE MY CHILDREN.  I don't wish them away from me, I desire for them to draw close to me.  But I would be lying if I said 5 minutes to myself didn't sound like heaven.  (OK...10 min, maybe more.)  But someone was ALWAYS touching me.  Did I make that clear?

ALWAYS. TOUCHING. ME.  And it would drive me insane.

Then my husband would give me that look, and please forgive me, but really, when he wanted to snuggle close and get "reconnected" it just felt like one more person in my personal space.  And the really sad part is, I really like getting "reconnected".  My husband is the sexiest man I know, and even more, he is immensely generous and good to me.  I love him.

But right after children, it felt like his greatest gift to me was leaving me alone and letting me sleep.

One time in the midst of being busy and having lots of things to do, and lots of lists to keep track of all that I had to do, my husband gently looked at me and said, "How do I get on the To Do list?"

After having children, finding the time to have sex is like a big strategic game of "Chess".  Every move you make effects the next 12 moves of the game.  If I wash the dishes for her and sweep the floor then she will be in a better mood.  If I read to the kids now, they will play nice after, which means I can get dinner done on time, which will put us on schedule for bedtime if I can keep one kid from terrorizing their brother.  If my spouse puts the kids to bed, then I can get supper cleaned up which will help put her in the mood, and then maybe, if there is any shred of energy left after wrestling the kids to sleep, we can have "Marriage counseling".   (That's our code word here.  We figure if an apple a day keeps the doctor away, then time in the bedroom, or closet or bathroom or wherever the kids won't find you, keeps the therapist away.  So far our form of Marriage Counseling is working.)

If you are the parent of small children, you would be lying if this has never happened to you.  Maybe it doesn't happen all the time, but it has happened.  Just own it.

With children around, your youthful body and energy is used on the little people running wild in your home.  You become a machine that cleans and cooks and drives to doctor appointments and school plays and activities.  You are the farmer, financial planner, cook,  counselor, doctor, lawyer, and community activity director.  Even in the midst of simplifying life, children have needs.  Your home has needs.  People need to eat and they need clothes to wear, and they need somewhere to sleep.   They need time to talk with you about issues they are having with friends and school work.  Devotions need prepped, and quality time is a priority for the family.  You give more than 100% each day, and still it's not enough.

But what about the two of you?  The parents who are in charge of it all and struggle to keep their eyes open past 9pm.  I don't know about you, but most of the time I collapse into bed still in my clothes.  I feel guilty and promise to be better about it tomorrow.

How can we find time to reconnect when everything at life is pulling at you and winning.  We give and give and give and after you are covered in food, wearing the same clothes three days in a row, how in the world are you supposed to feel sexy and want to "reconnect"?  Seriously, why can't sweats be a turn on?  Then I am trying to remember that I am a woman first instead of a mom, let alone a wife.

It feels like a cruel joke.

Paul and I have been through many different phases in our marriage where this special time comes easy, and when it's difficult to make it happen.  There are times when the stars align and we find we have energy to invest in this part of our marriage.  Then there are the times when we barricade our door, pretend we don't hear the kids yelling at each other, convinced they will figure it out, and hope against hope we can stay in the mood.

Marriage with young kids is hard.  The demands and questions and decisions you have to make fly at you faster than you can even register what's happening.  You live in a place of being reactive instead of proactive, let alone intentional about "quality reconnect time".

Everything about this subject is tricky.  Even writing about it is tricky.  You have desire meets reality, love vs. responsibility, expectations creating miscommunication.

Paul and I have found that the only way to navigate through these risky waters is to keep talking about it.  We have to keep talking through our mis guided signals.  Our miscommunication.  Our exhaustion. Our need.  Our hurt.  Our desire.

This very specific part of our marriage is a key to its success.  It keeps us connected.  It keeps us attracted and interested in one another.  It keeps our desire and love for one another strong.  But it has also hurt each other.  We have unintentionally wounded each other with our tired rejection, or our words that weren't meant to hurt, but they did.

But to create a thriving marriage, we have to keep talking about it.  Every time our life changes, the rules change, and we have to take the time to talk with one another about how to make time for sex in the new stage of life.

So carry on dear warriors, fighting for your relationship.  Making your marriage a priority.  Connecting and communicating with your partner.  It's more than hard work, it's constant, every changing, reevaluating work.

But it is so worth it.

Even if the only five minutes you can find, finds you in the closet with the door locked.




 

Feeling exposed and scared out of my mind

It's easy to build self confidence and contentment in the privacy of your own home.  I have done that for years now.  No one to really see the cracks in your defense system.  You can almost pretend they don't exist.

It's terrifying to put yourself out there and wonder.

Will people like me?

How harsh will the judgments be?

I put myself out there when I speak, when I write, when I invite you in to share this life with me.

I have built my career on being authentic and real and transparent, but recently, those limits are getting tested in changing waters.

I never realized how vulnerable it would feel to ask people to support you.  To walk alongside you and say, "I want your dream to come true!"

Because...well...what if they don't?  What if they were just being nice?

The reality is, I only have a voice because of you.  I could write blog after blog, but if no one reads it, then it isn't serving its purpose.

I could write a brilliant faith evoking message, but if no one shows up, then it can't bear fruit.

And I could write a wonderful book full of stories that point toward kingdom living, but if no one buys it, then my ministry lays dormant.  My ministry only exists because there is an audience.

The deep secret fear that seems to be coming up in full force lately is, "What if nobody cares?  What if no one is listening?  What if people will think its stupid?"  And the big one for me is, "What if nobody likes me?"

What does that say about me and my ministry if people don't want to stand behind it?

For the last few years all of my speaking gigs have been lived out where I have felt most comfortable.  My families high need diet being my excuse to not stretch too far outside my comfort zone when it comes to my career.

But here I am now, writing new material.  Searching and preparing for gigs I have never done.

And now I am writing a book.  Yup, I am going to do it and write a book.

This is all new territory.

It's scary as hell.  Can I say that?

I feel exposed.  I feel terrified.  I feel insecure which I haven't felt in years and I don't know what to do with all those feelings.

What if you don't want my book?

What if it's all just a bad idea and I should go back to simply living.  (Not living simple, that is something all together very different.)

To say "it's hard to put yourself out there" is a statement that doesn't quite convey the risk you take in taking a chance.

You put your dreams and hard work out there for others to experience, and the goal is to share Christ through it all.  But its risky to invite you in.  There was a beautiful TED talk that explored the gift of asking.  You can watch it here.

But what if no one is listening?

(If you want to know more about the book, I'm waiting for the promo video to come out and then will invite you all into the project.  I would love the company!)

Hope in Despair

I have to laugh that for all the grief I give my husband about a painting that hangs over our couch in our home, I am actually including it in a blog.  

A few years ago, my husbands best friend, Lloyd Garrelts had a desire to add "artist/painter" to his list of many talents.  He had decided long ago that if he were to ever become a painter, it would start with a large black canvas that had one small white dot on it.  To mock modern art, he would call it "Hope in Despair".  It communicates that no matter how small the evidence of hope may seem, it does change the landscape.  The despair is not untouched.

When our friend turned 40, Paul commissioned him to start his dream, and paint on the largest canvas we could afford.  For days he came to paint.  Lots of pepsi and wine got drank, and the dream became a reality.  I was in full support of my husband trying to help make dreams come true, till I was told that in order to be a true work of art, it is commissioned by someone and hung in their home.  So here it sits, in our home, a big black wall of canvas, reminding us that dreams do come true.

Hope in Despair

When I was driving down our street the other day, I saw this...

It is a large Chalkboard with the painted letters, "Before I die..."  I got really distracted by it and wanted to check it out, so I pulled over and walked right up to it so I could read what people were writing.  This is what I saw.

Amongst the desires for fame you also find hope to know God, hope to end the pain, hope to find love, hope to truly find oneself.  It was simply beautiful.

Here, in my hood where we are frequently on the news for destruction, anger, stealing, killing, rape and fires, I found this.  A long list of hopes and dreams that people have for their future, even in the midst of the despair, hope can be found no matter how small.

I saw a big black canvas written all over with white paint.

Hope is not lost.  Even in the midst of all of the despair, hope can be found.  We can't survive without it.  People here have big dreams of finding love and God and repairing what is broken.  Amazing things happen when we work together towards that dream.

Today I felt like it is well with my soul.

Hope has not been lost.

When faced with death

My thoughts are jumbled and my emotions are tied in knots.  Fear, sadness, anxiety, hurt, justice, peace and anger all rage war to be the emotion that claims victory over my heart.

I have been in one other waiting room in my life where the patient faced possible death.  I sat with an 18 year old girl in the summer between High School and College when she was supposed to be believe that all things were possible.  I sat there with her and thought, "Her mom is going to come out of this.  They always say there is a chance of death, but it never really happens."

Then the doctor came out, took this young girls hand, and had to tell her that her mother passed.  They couldn't save her.  She was now alone.  Her father died three years earlier, and now, there, on that day, she lost her mother and was alone.  Completely alone.  I understood at that moment the phrase, "the world stopped.  It stops for just a moment."  It's true.  In that moment, the world around you ceases to exists and its like someone hit a pause button.  You pray, you cry deeply with EVERY fiber of your being that you heard them wrong.  Please God, tell them to take it back.  You wonder if you heard wrong, because you know that in that moment the earth stood still for you.  That moment happened eight years ago, but I remember it, I can close my eyes and feel like it was yesterday.

Last week I joined my entire family down in Houston because my cousin Ryan was having life threatening, high risk surgery.  They were removing his lung and tumor, and only one doctor in the country would even attempt this procedure.  If you would like to know more about his condition and story, he is an avid blogger and beautiful writer.  You can read about here www.nobodyfightsalone.com.

Here is a picture of Ryan at his Cycle for a Cure.

I won't recount his story for you here, but I will tell you my perspective.  I had been home eight hours after speaking at a conference all weekend and Little and I were headed to the airport to fly down to Houston to join all of my family in support of Ryan, his wife Andrea and their two small boys.  My focus had been on work, prepping sitters for the kids, food and the new book launch.  I came home, spent a few precious hours with my family and then Lu and I left.  When you have a 2 year old, flying is a big adventure, and so you play games, sing songs and generally live moment to moment.  Paul had told me before I left, "I am concerned that you haven't processed exactly what you are walking into down in Houston."  I ignored him, knowing he was right, but not wanting to dwell too much on it.

See part of the reason we were down in Houston was to say good bye.  Ryan had less than a 5% chance of surviving this surgery, and so according to statistics, this would be the last time we saw him.  But of course you are hoping, praying, and hoping again that you are really there to help with his recovery.  To be there with his wife and parents and kids.  To give your support.  But in the back of your head, in the dark place you don't want to say out loud because if you say it out loud, God forbid it might come true.  We were there to say good bye.

When Little and I got there we were hugging our family, saying our hello's, thankful for the opportunity to see them, and yet, knowing why we were there.  The joy of seeing them was followed by an immediate heavy feeling of the possibility of death.  Emotions were raw.  We were all holding tightly onto our thoughts and feelings not wanting to reveal what we were thinking or feeling.  The goal was to stay positive and create one last night of wonderful memories with all of us together.

The night before the surgery we all gathered for dinner and celebrated Ryan's wife birthday.  It really was great to see everyone, we don't all live close to one another so this was a rare occurrence.  After the meal was over, the emotions shifted.  The energy in the room changed.  I turned in my chair and saw Ryan sitting quietly in his chair, tears threatening to fall.  My first reaction was hard a blow because I have never once seen him falter in his positive attitude towards fighting this cancer.  Now I understand that I don't live with him and there is no way that he could be positive every moment of every day, but as a dedicated reader of his blog, I know that he chooses to be positive as much as he possibly can.  Seeing the reality of what he was choosing to do, seeing his humanity in that moment brought all the emotions I was trying to avoid come flooding into my heart.

Ryan was choosing this surgery to give him the best chance of living cancer free.  But the risks were incredibly great.  The risk of death was high, and in that case, he would be leaving a wife, a three year old and a 9 month old son.  Two children who, if he died, eventually would have no memories of their father.  He had to choose a surgery that meant, he was in truth, saying I can die at this moment and I will accept that.

I watched him in that chair trying not to loose his emotions.  He was surrounded by his family and I would assume was feeling the weight of his choice and potentially his last night with everyone.

How does one even comprehend those emotions and choices?  I found I was hugging my daughter harder that night.  I kept thinking how incredibly brave and courageous he was that night to willing make that choice so that he could against the odds, live a longer life with his family.  He was so brave, and full of courage, and I would assume, so alone in that moment.  Completely and utterly alone in his thoughts and emotions.  Even surrounded by the people who know and love him the most, no one could imagine what he was going through.  He was alone in thoughts.  He was alone in feelings.

And my heart broke for him.  My heart broke for his family.  I hated sin in that moment.  I really hated it.  Call me ignorant, or simple minded, and maybe my faith is simplistic, but I don't get angry at God in those moments.  In the moments of complete and utter fear of the circumstances around me.  I get angry at the fact that sin is apart of our world.  That we invited in.  That we have to live with our consequences on this earth until we are made perfect in eternity.

Please hear me, I am not saying that because of Ryan's sin, God gave him cancer.  I am NOT saying that.  What I am saying, is that we live in a sinful world full of brokenness, disease, death, and tragedy.  No one is untouched by it, and just because you are a child of God, doesn't give you a get out of jail free card to pain.  We are all touched by and live in a sinful place.

And maybe the reason you could call my faith simplistic is because I have personally been untouched by tragedy.  Those closest to me have been inflicted with much pain and disease and tragedy, so I am not a stranger to it.  I don't ever view God as a bystander, just watching horrible events take place.  I never wonder where he is, or question why he doesn't stop tragedy from our lives.  I guess I have always understood that he can't stop it for everyone.  If he stopped death, disease, and tragedy from everyone, than we would be in heaven.  I also understand and have experienced the peace and healing and life giving relationship with God that comes out of such pain and hurt.  I have seen redemption be born out total darkness.  I have witnessed the body of God raise up to their calling and help and be responsible for those who have been broken.  It is the most beautiful thing to behold, watching God's children living as God intended by loving others in their pain.  Experiencing them sacrificing themselves for others.  We don't get those beautiful moments of joy and depth without the pain.

Would I rather see Ryan completely healed and healthy and free of pain.  Of course I would.  I would choose that.  But God is doing something with this story.  He is working in Ryan's life.  He is bringing healing and he is raising up the body of God around him.  There is redemption happening there.

So in my moment of feeling his loneliness, with a lifetime of memories of my cousin, and complete awareness of his choice, all my tears threaten to fall.  I didn't just want to cry, I wanted to sob and cry out and let the emotions take over so I could feel the depth of them, and then let them go.  I went to him, kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him.  I had no words of wisdom and nothing profound to say.  What I wanted him to know is that his life mattered and changed me.

Then I walked out with my daughter and my dad and sobbed.  The unflattering cry where tears mix with snot and your whole face is wet and red.  I just allowed myself to feel for him, for the hurt of so many others who have been touched by uncontrollable pain.  That night all our hearts were heavy.

How do you live in a reality of something dark and scary, but try to hold onto a little bit of hope?  Those emotions are so conflicting with one another, its hard to let either one win out.  You don't want to hope so much that the reality will be hard to accept.  And you can't let go of any glimpse of hope, because living becomes impossible.

So it brings me back to the waiting room the next day.  I had nice conversations with uncles and aunts and cousins.  I played games with Little.  And the whole time, even though there might be faint smiles on our faces, we were all just waiting.  Waiting for the bad news, hoping for the good news.

We were told to go back to the hotel because his surgery started later than expected and they didn't need us all there.  That's where we were when we got the news that the surgery went very well and Ryan was in recovery.  My grandmother is the only one who cried out in joy and wept.  We sat there.  Completely shocked.  At least I was.  I couldn't believe how much I was prepared for the bad news.  My own history had prepared me for the worst, but the worst didn't come that day.  We immediately came together and prayed our thanksgiving to God and then I wept.  It was a miracle.  There really is no other option.  It was a miracle.

We are all guaranteed death.  We will all in some way experience pain and hardship and tragedy.  The hard days will come, and maybe they are even already here.  I am a believer that God is still good even in these moments.  I have to believe that.  And I was prepared for that.

But we got life that day.  Ryan got life that day.  His boys got their dad that day.  His wife got her husband that day.  His mom kept her son that day.

And postponing the tragedy just a little bit felt good.

It felt good to celebrate life, even just for a little bit longer till the next hard thing.

Thank you Lord.

We can't lose hope

We live on the wrong side of the tracks.

We also live on the wrong side of the bridge.

And on the wrong side of the river.

If people are familiar with Minneapolis, then they usually ask, "Where do you live?"  Our response is, "We live in North" the nickname and location of living on the wrong side of...well...everything.

And their look is always the same.  One of fear, sadness, pity.  That is the most common response.  One I was used to when I would tell people I lived near Detroit.  I've been getting that look my whole life.  Now there are some who love North Mpls.  Just like in any urban dwelling there are friends and neighbors who love to create an urban/hipster/artist/liberal/earth conscious environment in the city. We would fall into that category.  But eventually, every person who lives in an urban setting, and one that is known for its long history of crime and abuse, needs to ask,

How long can I live here and still be safe?

As I sit here and write at 2pm in the afternoon, a dear friend of ours is fixing our back door because our home was broken into for the fifth time.  And yes, we do have a security system.  We got that after our house was cleaned out 10 years ago at Christmas and vandalized to a disturbing degree.  With the system in place, we have had four more assaults. (And this is just the personal attacks, whereas our neighborhood  is a place of high activity for random shootings, murders, robberies and rape.  And by neighborhood, I mean our street and back alley.  It is a normal occurrence for friends at parities of ours to come away with some sort of ghetto hood tale to retell when they leave.)  I hesitate to write this because 1. It makes me feel like the girl in an abusive relationship who doesn't know when to leave because she finds an excuse after every attack to stay.  Or 2. We will have even more people joining the campaign to tell us to leave.  I understand, we should move, but truly, I don't want to hear it.  That isn't what this post is about.  And I don't want you to feel sorry for us.  Everyone has struggles in their life, and currently, our neighborhood is ours.  This isn't a contest to see how scary and sketchy our hood is compared to yours, its just our reality.  Simple.

When we first moved into our home there was a host of friends who lived in the hood.  There was talk about how it was a hard place to live, but everyone had hope that it would it would get better.  Slowly, friends were moving away because the crime was hitting closer and closer to home.  And yet, we have remained.  People have slowly been giving up hope that anything will change in North.  That no matter how many young families move in and improve their home, make a life for themselves, they will eventually get scared off and move away.  The others that stay can't afford to leave and so they hunker down in their homes and don't participate in the improvement of the hood.  That was our neighbors story for 30 years, until the tornado came and claimed their house, forcing them to leave.

Five years ago the Lowry Bridge got shut down for repairs and then eventually was blown up to be replaced by a beautiful bridge that was stronger and sturdier than before.  The Lowry bridge is one of the main veins that runs from North Mpls to NE Mpls.  Before the bridge went down, NE Mpls was considered the crime epicenter of our area.  After the bridge went down, it got locked down and concentrated in North.  Crime has since remained and flourished where we live, whereas, NE has become the "New It" place to be.  It's been interesting to watch the transformation of NE Mpls and how the art scene has exploded there.  Old buildings have turned into art warehouses, co-ops have started, small creative consignments shops have started, coffee shops and local cafe's decorate dozens of corners.  Tourists visit Uptown Mpls, locals who know the inside tract hang out in NE, and many are too afraid to come to North.

You can tell that locals here are excited and anticipating the shift of culture for North.  They are hoping that with the bridge opening, which it did this last fall, that the good things that are happening in NE will make its way into our little area.  The warehouse district is also spreading closer and closer to our area.  We are only two miles from downtown and the warehouse district is the "New It" place to live.  So on the other side of the bridge is the New place to be, and the other side of the Highway is the New place to live.  Old buildings are being resurrected.  Art and co-ops and small business are popping up all over.  New life is being breathed into the areas surrounding us, and we wonder,

Can it infiltrate, or will it just compound and lock the crime into our hood?

Two years ago our neighborhood was hit by a tornado.  Though it sounds terrible, and in the moment it was, it has given a face lift to home after home in our area.  For 18 months what was a war zone has turned into a mosaic of beautiful homes.  In my mind, this can only serve to help North siders feel proud of our little hood.  However, we get nervous to hope.  To hope that things can turn around.  To hope that our little hood in Mpls could be a safe place to be after hoping for more than 10 years.

Last summer was the hardest on our family.  Crime has slowly moved closer and closer to our home.  A few years back a girl was murdered in front of our home on the corner.  Two summers ago, I was trampled down by the S.W.A.T. team breaking down our neighbors door looking for stolen weapons.  Last spring while making breakfast we watched the police throw smoke bombs in the home across the alley from us and bring out 5 hostages.  But last summer, in the middle of the night, gunshots and bullets rang out in our backyard and alley.  It brings on a whole new dimension when your husband dives over your body to protect you from stray bullets.  It's when I truly felt scared for the first time.  Things shifted for me then.

How long can you hold out hope that things will change?  10 years ago things were supposed to be looking better for North Mpls, and yet, to me it just feels like it has gotten worse.  Everywhere I turn in my neighborhood there are bars on the windows, gates on the doors, graffiti on the walls and garbage on the street.  So many homes are boarded up and abandoned.  When I drive my kids to school passing business after business gated to protect themselves, I think, what do my children see?  How do I explain to my children that our home got broken into...again... without inflicting fear in them?  How do I create a safe place for them, when our safe place has been robbed?  When the evidence of vandalism is all over our broken back door?  How do I reassure them that they are OK, when I am not even sure I believe it myself.

Today I realized how often my spirit is ready for battle.  I live in a neighborhood where before I leave the house now, EVERY time I leave the house, I need to brace our backdoor with a 2x4 wood beam.  I need to be on guard to keep my family safe, while at the same time resting in trust that God is bigger than our fear.

I want to hope that things are going to be better where I live.  I want to hope that I could feel safe in my home.  Right now my spirit is uneasy as I look at our open drawers that were rummaged through and my bed that was moved around by men who robbed us.  My personal space was invaded again.  Strangers were looking and tearing through our stuff.  And somehow I become distanced from that because, well, its happened before.

This whole post is jumbled in thoughts.  It is fearful and somewhat hopeful that all the good things happening around us could finally come and be apart of us in our neighborhood instead of always just being slightly out of reach.  We live in this confusing place of protecting ourselves, but trying to let go and trust.  Looking over our shoulders waiting for the next attack, but trying not to let fear dictate everything we do.  And finally raising children who see God's goodness in everything.

Living in the hood felt very personal today, and somehow I had let my guard down.  I want to only see the good things happening around us.  The parkway coming to our street, all the community gardens, the park parties.  But I'm not gonna lie, lately, all I see are the bars on the windows and the drug deals happening in the cars in front of our house.  My heart is heavy with the lack of hope I felt today.

When you start to feel hopeless, you realize how important hope is.  We need to have hope.  We need to be able to believe.  Believe that God is still good.  Believe that people can choose love instead of hate.  Believe that people can change.  Hope that sin and hurt won't overtake a city.

When the kids and I talked about the break in today, we prayed for the young men who broke into our home.  And I guess that is what I am asking from you.  We as a family need your prayers.  Prayers to head God's direction for our lives.  Prayers for my children that we as a family can talk about this, but that they won't live in fear.  Prayers that Paul and I can help our children understand. Prayers that hatred and bitterness would not claim our hearts and home. Prayers that we won't loose hope. But prayers especially for the young men and women, not only in North but all over the world that choose hatred and anger, and retaliation for the hurt they are struggling with.  Hatred breeds hatred.  Those that choose to hurt others are deeply hurt themselves, and need our prayers.

Close friends and family asked me today how I was doing.  They showed concern and I am so thankful for them.  I guess this post is my response.  A jumbled, confusing, scattered response.  But that is how I feel right now.  Jumbled.  Confused.  Scattered.


Update:  Sometimes I forget how far these posts go.  Sometimes I write because I need to process what is happening in our lives, and I forget that there are hundreds of you reading it.  Thank you so much for the outpouring of love that you showed me in the last 12 hours.  Thank you for your prayers, and your kind words.  Thank you to my friend who showed up today at my door to visit with me over coffee.  I love being apart of the Church.  The church that lives in the hearts and soul of the people I am honored to call friends and for those I have never met face to face but pray for us anyway.  I want you to know that God has used you all to encourage me and find strength in my trust in our Lord.

There is so much I love about where we live, and it was never my intent to degrade North Mpls. What I will do is give an honest opinion about the fact that here, in this urban setting, we have the gift of daily surrendering our control to God.  We are taught and challenged to trust.  We don't sit comfortably and safe in our home, but many times I see that as a gift.  Yesterday I just didn't want the gift.  I also want to say that we never moved here to this neighborhood to do "ministry".  We do however believe in living as Christ like examples wherever we are, wherever we live, wherever we work.  So we try to shine brightly here.  And when the time comes and we are able to move, we would like to venture a bit more out into the country.  But even if we still decided to move today, we would remain here until our home sold and all was in order, which means we still live in a tension of fear and trust.

Thank you for being being with us.  For loving us and for walking through life with us.

When there just isn't enough

What do you do when you feel completely and utterly overwhelmed and incapable of actually making it through half a day without everything going to hell in a hand basket?  (And, really, where did that phrase even come from?)

I don't know how to exsist in my own skin when I feel I might burst like I do right now.

I have this amazing husband who I love spending time with.  I love creating a space in our home where he feels warmth and love and encouraged when he gets home.  (notice I did not say clean, I just meant generally happy people he comes home to.)  I long to invest in our marriage where the only thing we want to do in the evening is spend time together, talking about life, dreams and faith.  I never want the spark to leave us.  I want there to be time every day where we can invest in some real way in the foundation of what makes our family.  I also want to be able to support him in his dreams and be on his team for making his dreams work.  I love him and want more time for him.

I also have these incredible, spirited, funny, normal acting out kids that I JUST LOVE TO PIECES!  Good grief, is it possible for a mom to love her kids more than I love mine?  When they came home today from school, we put on an old vinal record and played card games for an hour.  I just kind of want to hang out with them all the time participating in dance parties, reading stories, building snow forts, playing legos, coloring pictures, the list goes on and on.  I want to pour into them spiritually, preparing thier devotions and creating a family structure that is based in God's truth, and his freedom for creating and love.  I want to teach them to lean into God when they need answers so that they know it isn't me or Paul, but He is the one they should seek.  I want to have time to prepare crafts and activities for us to do as a family.  I want time to teach them all sorts of character building qualities that are important for this life.  I want them to have time to play freely, participate in chores, help with the planting and growing and preparing of our food because this is a life skill they need.  I want so much for them it feels overwhelming today as I try to figure out where to put my efforts in my last hour of free time tonight to prepare for them tomorrow.  I love them and want more time for them.

I am blessed to have amazing people in my life.  I mean, really, incredible people where my desire never matches my reality in loving and serving them.  Investing in them.  Knowing them.  Encouraging them and uplifting them.  I want more time to remember all the small and big things going on in their lives.  I want to be the friend they can count on.  The friend they can call in a crisis.  I NEVER want any of these people to think, "She is too busy for me to call".  That would break my heart.  I love them and want more time with them.

I serve on this beautiful board of servant hearted folks that make up the Haiti Mission Project.  I recently made a mistake that will cost one of our members more time and energy than before to help correct my mistake.  My mistake of neglegence.  One of my great fears revealeved.  That I really just am too busy or too lazy to stay focused and committed to this task.  I love Haiti.  I love this ministry.  I am in love with the people we work with.  I am honored to work alongside the other board members.  How do I committ more time or energy to making our dreams and plans happen in this wonderful little country?  I love them and want more time for them.

I believe with my whole heart that God put a gift and desire in my heart for sharing his life giving love with others.  I currently couldn't define exactly that looks like but am in the process of figuring it out.  I know it means writing.  I know it means speaking.  I know I need to do it to feel alive.  But writing my book right now feels crazy.  Planning a small tour seems impossible.  Organizing all the business details to make that happen takes up more time than I want.  So then I should get an assistant and look what it would take to make that happen to free up more personal time, but in the end, paying someone else takes pay away from my family which needs it.  And that all just makes my head hurt.  But I love this and want more time with it.

Then there is my love of reading, cooking, sewing, gardening, working out, sleeping, painting, and writing. I love all these things and want more time with them.

What do you do when you have too much you love and not enough time?  Giving up on any one of these feels kind of wrong.  I know that there are seasons in life and through each season, one love takes the front seat while another the back.  Lately however, they all seem to be screaming "SHOT GUN!".

My head is spinning, and my heart feels like I ate too much at Thanksgiving.  I also know that everyday you survive, you just keep chipping away.  You just try to make a little improvement each day.  You invite God into the process.  You surrender your control and expectations, and let him take the lead.

But today, I felt like my baby spoon was in no way the tool I needed to face the mountain.

And some days are like that.

Some days, you just thank the Good Lord you survived the day. You go to sleep.  Rest your weary body and soul, and tomorrow, see if you can start over.

This is where I am today.  Coming home from a weekend youth retreat where I was incredibly sick for two days, in the game of life, today won.  It kicked my butt to the curb.  But, tomorrow is a  new day.

Thank God for new beginings.

A letter to my husband

My dear sweet husband,

Valentines day is coming.

You wrote a song once about how much you hate this day.  That really Valentines should be a day off from striving to love the ones you love all year long.  Love shouldn't exist within the confines of this one day.

Even though we both agree, it's kind of a silly holiday, we like that it reminds us to appreciate the ones we love.  To celebrate love wherever it exists. And to applaud the courage it takes to stick to love when it moves from a feeling to a commitment.

You, sweet husband of mine, are really good at giving presents.  Thank you for always trying to find something special that's just right for me.

This year though, I thought we could put aside the gift giving.  I don't want the candy or flowers or fancy dinner out, even though we've never done those things.

I don't want you taking your time away from us shopping for something that you heard me say I liked six  months ago because you know it would surprise me that you remembered.

I don't want you worrying about money, and trying to find the right thing that says, "I love you".

I thought I would make this easy for us, and just tell you what I want.

I want you to see me.  I mean really see me.

I want you to see past the sweat pants that I wear all winter long because its too cold to wear anything else.

I want you to see past my fabulous outfit that I put on to go out.

I want you to see past the mom who is in charge of the house and lives under a check list.

I want you to see beauty in  my aging, child bearing body, because those my dear are the trade offs of living a life time with someone and experiencing the joy of our children.

I want you to see beauty in the wrinkles on my face, because you caused most of the laughing ones and some of the worry ones.  Those are the scars you left on me.

I don't want you to say "I think you're wonderful", I want you to tell me WHY you think I'm wonderful.

I don't want you to say "I love you" I want to know WHY you love me.

What is it about me, specifically, that makes me amazing, or cherished, or lovable by you.  What sets me apart from every other woman you encounter.

In telling me WHY, you communicate that you still see me.  You see my goodness and you see my pain.  You see me every day, but do you notice me?  Do you notice the little things?

The other day you came into the kitchen, tugged at my hand to pull me away from the counter where I was prepping food.  You danced with me, right there in the middle of the kitchen.  You knew I was stressed  I had been in there all day, and you brought me relief.  You pulled me out of my crazy place, and put me in your arms.  You said nothing, we danced till the song was over and then you released me.

I felt seen in that moment.

You are good at noticing the little things and always thanking me for all I do.

This letter isn't written because you are bad at seeing me.

I write this letter because it is easy to go unnoticed behind the mom uniform, the chef's hat, the speaker's dress, the servants sweat pants, and the tired eyes.  It is so easy to get lost in those things.

Your words and encouragement seep into all those tired and broken down places.  When you see me, when you really see me, I feel...well, I feel like me.  Bright eyed, lovable, young, in love, appreciated, cared for.  I feel alive because someone sees me.  I am no longer the invisible frame that moves about the house making everything work for everyone else.

So, please, I don't want a present this Valentines day.

What would mean the world to me, is if you took a moment to see me, and told me again, why you picked me.

Your Wife

How much is too much?

I needed to shovel the snow for the third day in a row yesterday.  Little and I came home and I went to work.  Then I remembered that we have neighbors who live three houses down whose dad is out of town for the next two weeks.  So its just the mom, who works full time, the grandma and the 2 year old daughter.  It sure would be kind if I could help out and do this one small chore for them so them so they wouldn't have to do it and bear the cold and risk slipping on the ice.  Easy right?  Shovel your neighbors walk, 15 min, done.

A confession is that I don't usually think about helping my neighbors and shoveling their walks.  Sad, but true.  I just go about my business and do my own thing, get my work done and then move onto the next thing on my list .  But this past Saturday, middle came out to help me shovel and I thought this was a good activity to help teach him how we can help people in all sorts of ways, even on our own block.  (Sad that I often will only think of helping others when I know it will help me teach my kids about compassion.  Man I have a long way to go in understanding a full change of heart.)

So we shoveled their walk two days ago.  Now I am out there shoveling again, and I think to myself, no one is here to see me or learn from me.  Why aren't I shoveling their walk again?  OK, so I will go and shovel their walk.  But in order to get to their home, I need to pass my immediate neighbors.  My immediate neighbors who I have lived next door to for 10 years and I have never once shoveled their walk.  They don't speak English, but we have lived peacefully, watching our kids playing together for years.  The grandma has helped me weed my garden and we have shared plates of food with one another every time a baby is born in either home.

Would I really walk past their snowy sidewalk and not help out?  They have 15 people who live in that house.  Many capable people who could shovel.  But just because they can shovel their own walk, doesn't mean I couldn't show kindness to even them.  So I just kept shoveling.

The house after that is our neighbor who I struggle with.  Their little boy who is hard for me to love, but God challenges daily in the summer months that kids act out for a reason.  And he has his reasons.  Two years ago while holding Little, we got ran down by the S.W.A.T. team as they busted down this neighbor's door looking for a stolen weapon.  Then we watched the little boy who watched his dad and his uncles hurl curse words and slander while they cleaned up glass from the broken door and window.  Things are hard at that house.  Are they not worthy of kindness?  Would a kind act show this family compassion and a little bit of joy?  So I just kept shoveling.

Now the house between the family I just told you about, and the mother with her husband gone has been abandoned since the tornado.  It sits, neglected, all doors and windows boarded up.  We thought the city might own it, but a few weeks ago a couple guys came and cleaned the house out.  Now it sits with a For Sale sign on the lawn.  I'm not gonna lie.  We all loved when this family left.  They were really hard to love.  There were all sorts of shady things happening in that house.  Cops were a regular there, and a few years back they received a lot of attention of shooting and killing their dog in the basement.  But mostly, it really bothered me the way the oldest son talked to his little brother.  The way he would interact with him.  You knew bad stuff was happening there.  ANYWAY, it is one abandon house that sits between all my shoveled walk, and the house I am trying to get to.  So I shoveled.  I don't know if anyone was going to come and shovel.  I doubt it.  And I thought of all the people who would walk the sidewalk getting to the bus or to work, and I thought about the mailman.  So I shoveled it for them.  Then I shoveled our friends walk.

As I was shoveling, I thought about all the things I had just written about.

The family who is capable and has lots of people to shovel.
The family, who for honesty sake, kind of scare me.
The empty home with no family, but so many past mistakes.
The family in need.

I was placing judgments on who was worth my time and kindness.  Who REALLY needs help?  Those are the people we help right?

Being in the tornado almost two years ago really has changed me.  Like never before, was God's call for us to simply live out our lives, loving the people around us mean as much to me as it did after that experience.  No kindness goes unnoticed, because in every act of kindness, there is love, and where there is love, God is present.

Well, after I was done shoveling, I noticed that all I did was reveal all the Ice underneath the snow.  And my first thought was, "Grap!  For real?!"  So I went into our home and got our bag of salt, selfishly thinking to myself, "Now I have to go and buy more salt because I am going to use it all up and I wasn't planning on spending money on this, and Paul is just going to love that I am salting the walk of crack house.  He's gonna love me for this."  But, come on, really, it would be a terrible thing for me to shovel, only to reveal ice and then let someone slip.  I love the way God just keeps pushing me further.  "Just give a little bit more Dani.  Give till you can feel the pain of letting go of your stuff, your money, your time for someone else.  I want you to feel giving, not just be a convenient giver, because that is really no servant heart at all."

So I salted everyone's walk.  I knew it was right.  I knew God was teaching me in this moment and shaping my heart to look a little more like his, and I am thankful for that, really.  So I didn't say anything to my neighbors or to my kids.  This was just about serving and loving the people around me.  Truthfully, I'm not sure they would know we are Christians by the way we live.  I mean, we go to church, and we talk about kindness here and they know we are believers, but that's only because they've asked.  I am ashamed by how little I have done to serve the people right here on my street.  This. This is why God is shaping my heart.  To make me less selfish, and I am thankful for that.

This morning I had a wonderful devotion/prayer time before the kids got up.  I went to the kitchen and started my routine.  Then big woke up and when we looked out the window he saw it had snowed again.  AGAIN!  Four days in a row.  He said, "mom, I think we should serve our friend by shoveling her walk again.  I mean you could do it." And that is when I rolled my eyes.

SERIOUSLY GOD?!!!  FOUR DAYS IN A ROW YOU WANT ME TO SHOVEL HALF A CITY BLOCK AND SALT IT?

Yes all the shouty capitals were in my head.  And then a quiet understanding came to me.

When are we done serving?

When ever is it enough to stop giving?

Where is the line for not loving your neighbor?

So my heart got worked on a little bit more today.  My understanding of faith, love, serving, obedience and God got a little bit richer today as yes, I did shovel everyone's walk again today.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm a little less selfish today, and little bit more focused on God.

(But then secretly I tell myself, you have to really get it today, otherwise it will snow again tomorrow Daniel-son.  I think God might just be Mr. Miyagi.)

So yes, this girl still has a lot to learn.

Just Show Up

"

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed" - Mark 1:35

I think devotions are extremely important, and yet I think many of us are scared of them.  I know I used to be.  I thought every devotion needed to have this earth shattering moment where God spoke directly to me and my world would be changed.  That my heart would be full and I would walk away renewed and in touch with my soul.   But then there is the question of "what to do for devotions?"  Pray? Journal? Read?  But read what? The Bible? A book? What book?  Of Poetry .short stories with meaning...a chapter in the Bible, but then where do I start with that?  Good grief, it's just easier to ignore it all together.

I think Satan speaks these things into our Spirit to keep us from even trying.  We come to a devotion/quiet/ meditation time with expectations.  We hear people speak of how God is changing them, speaking to them, revealing things to them.  We show up once, it doesn't happen, and it becomes harder the next time to be as open, be as vulnerable.  We show up again and we read text but it doesn't really get down into our soul. (and then there is the issue of being terrified of what God might reveal to us, or what we might see in our own souls that we don't want to see and will have to confront.)

I can't believe I am actually going to say this, but because I hear Tony Horton's voice every day in this house, (God bless my husband for his dedication to his health and workouts), I am going to repeat what he tells his clients,

SHOW UP.  JUST SHOW UP.

You don't always feel like it.  You may suck at it some days.  You may feel nothing some days, but you have to show up.

SHOW UP

I had a friend who decided to just show up to silence every morning for 30 minutes.  She wasn't sure what she was doing.  She wasn't sure if she was going to think on a passage, or say something, or wait.  She didn't know, but what she knew is she needed to show up.  If she kept showing up then something was going to happen.

There is no right way to do devotions.  Over our last Sabbath, I read all of C.S. Lewis' "The Great Divorce" I never opened my Bible or prayed.  But I read a book on spiritual matters.  My soul was stirred and my heart was full of new thoughts regarding God and his love for me.  That was my devotion time.  It was refreshing because there are so many days where I read the proverbs or the Psalms or Hebrews and...there's just nothing.  I don't know what I am supposed to be hearing or learning.  Nothing jumps off the page at me and grabs me.  I read.  I close the book, and then I'm done.  It was nice to feel something after doing a devotion.

We have to acknowledge that there is a lie here that says that devotions have to be hard, complicated, intimidating, long, life changing.  Most devotions/quiet times/meditations are just showing up.  Because something beautiful happens in the showing up.  When we consistently show up, we change our habits to include a greater force than ourselves.  We train our brains to remember that we are not alone and are under a higher authority.  It forces us to remember that God is there.  We are not alone.  God is there.  When we show up it creates space for God to be God.  When we show up we will slowly chip away at our independence and fear and control issues and slowly and gently God will take them from us and replace them with his compassion, forgiveness and love.

JUST SHOW UP.

Doesn't matter what you start with.  Doesn't matter how terrible your prayer is.  (I love to pray. I like to pray more than I like to read the Bible.  I like to pray more than I like to listen to God's answer.  Some would say they like listening to me pray.  But in devotion time, my prayers are horrible.  They are scattered, they are confusing, they are distracted.  They are jumpy, meaning they go from something very real and deep to something like, "please God help me not to forget that my son needs a special treat today."  A lot of times, my prayers are begging God to help me stay focused.  I struggle with saying the things I think I am supposed to say and what I really want to say.  They usually end up being both, just in case.)

Devotions can be short to get started.  Devotions can be listening to a song with a strong spiritual meaning.  It could be reading a book that teaches you or encourages you in spiritual matters.  It could be a Bible Study.  It could be a Portals of Prayer, which I've actually never read before.  huh.  It could be prayer.  It could be journaling.  Doesn't matter, just show up.  God still shows up, so you won't be alone.

Start where you need to start to have success.  If that means 15 min. three days a week, then start there.  Start in a realistic place where you will have success and be encouraged to get to the place you want to be.  Remember, there is no right or wrong in this.

But let's be honest here.  If we aren't spending time re plugging into our spiritual source, how can we expect our faith to flourish?  How can we be strong and courageous if we aren't doing anything to strengthen it?  Our Christian faith is like any other living thing.  It needs to be fed and strengthened, otherwise, it withers and dies.

I wish I was better at devotions on a daily basis.  A lot of times I am so exhausted from staying up late trying to do too many things.  This last Sabbath was a big reminder to me how important taking time out, making it a priority is.  Taking time to learn from the one who made me.  Feeling my soul shine a little brighter, feel a little more alive, a little more real and full.  And to learn a little bit more about the one who loves me.  To challenge my preconceived ideas and stretch my understanding.

I need to remember...Just show up.

It's not about how to do devotions.

It's about why we do devotions.

Inner dialog: The cycle of dysfunction

I wasn't going to continue on my last post, but my post about raising my daughter led to a wonderful long conversation with my grandmother.  A conversation that shed some more light into the things I was trying to communicate in the previous post.

I sounded pretty terrified and insecure in my previous post, and all those things I said were true, sometimes are still true.  But what I realized is how much God has healed me from so much of that fear.  It used to be, if anyone ever paid me a compliment, I quickly pass it off to having pulled off a fun outfit.  All my confidence and beauty rested in how thin I was and how great my outfit was; my superficial appearance.  My acceptance never went any deeper than how I appeared to others.  I say with confidence now, how God has used the last couple years to slowly reveal my inner self to me in a way that I see and love because it is the me he has transformed.  I now believe that I am lovable even on my bad days, (sometimes believing that is still really hard), but that I still deserve love because God has claimed me and has transformed me.  My worth doesn't come from how much I get done, how great my kids behave, or my fantastic closet, though that is my favorite part.  I am the same me on good and bad days.  I am normal.  I am loved.  I am a creation designed by the creator.  I won't ever be anybody else, and I am more OK with that than ever before.  I like me now.  I'm still not proud of my behavior most days, but I understand that mistakes are a part of life, and God is still working in me.  I still don't shower for days, yell at my kids when I am tired and immediately regret it.  I waste days on TV sometimes and get down on myself for not being more than I want to be.  I am proud, and selfish, and angry still, but I am also forgiven, redeemed, selfless, and giving too.  I am a strong combination of good and broken.  I am human.  But I am me, and I kind of like me, because God has placed good in me, he has placed his Spirit in me.

I would like to pass that Spirit filled confidence onto my daughter.  I would like her to see in me a woman who seeks God in all she does.  A woman who tries to love others as best she can.  A mom who did her best and rejoiced over her children.  I would like her to see a REAL woman who accepts who she is and lives her life to God's glory.  I want to give her that.

What I don't want to give her is a negative inner dialog.  I don't want the bad things I say about myself to be her guidelines for what a woman should be.  If she hears me always angrily calling myself fat, than she will understand that 1. her mom doesn't like herself, and 2. that the measurement for fat, is the weight her mother is at and apparently that is a bad thing.  Now I'm not overweight, but if she hears me saying I'm fat, than she must remain thinner than me to NOT be fat And if I don't like myself, what does that say to the child who looks up to me?  This is very confusing to a child who thinks the world of her mom, the person who outweighs everyone else on the planet.  No one is better than mom, at least for awhile. And what does that say, when your favorite person doesn't like herself?  Cuts herself down, and disregards the child's compliments that they are beautiful?

If someone pays me a compliment, and my immediate response is, "Oh no, I don't have any make up on, my hair is a mess and I'm in sweats.  I look terrible."  This inadvertently communicates to her that in order to be beautiful, I need to be put together.  I need make up, I need my hair done and I need to dressed in a fun get up.

Why are so many of us women are always cutting ourselves down so easily?  We are so incredibly harsh on ourselves.  Why is it so impossible to see the beauty in ourselves?  Because the thing is, we are the measuring stick by which our children will understanding beauty and confidence and self acceptance.  In the way we talk about ourselves, we are giving them their inner dialog.

So, my children will never hear me call myself fat.  EVER.  Even if I feel it, I have never said these words in front of them.  One time Big heard me say, "oh man these jeans are getting tight, I have put on some weight."  His immediate response was, "Mom you are NOT FAT!"  I said without hesitation, "You are right, I am not fat, however, I probably shouldn't be eating two desserts a day and sneaking one as a snack.  It's not healthy, and not fitting in my jeans is a good indicator that I should stop."

My children won't ever hear me criticize myself in a photo.  Doesn't matter if the camera added 10lbs, or if it was a bad angle, the photo was there to capture a memory. I don't want them hearing me care more about my looks and cutting myself down, than I do about the fun moment that photo captured.

When I get dressed up to go out, I have decided to use the word fun when asking how an outfit works.  "Is this outfit fun?  Does it match?  Would different shoes be better?"  This may sound really silly, but the last thing I want to hear or have them understand is that the outfit makes me beautiful.  The outfit may be beautiful, I may be beautiful in it, but what I am wearing, in the end does not make or break me.  The beauty is in my confidence.  The beauty is in how I treat people.  The beauty is in how love lives in my life.

I try to take captive every negative thought about my looks before they leave my mouth.  This way, in every way possible, they don't have a mother who cares most about the way she doesn't like they way she looks.  However, in my behavior, my children always hear my repentance and prayer for God's strength to do better, so that there is more love in our house than anger or frustration.  I want the comments they hear me say about myself always to reflect my character, not my looks.  I hope they understand in this, that character and spirit are far more important to work on than the way we look.  (with all obvious health issues aside, this is purely cosmetic talk here.)

You may think all of this is a bit over the top, but I don't care.  For as long as I can remember, I only had negative inner dialog.  Do you know how hard it is to change your entire mindset?  It's taken me awhile, and I would like to save my daughter as much of that pain as possible.  Your inner dialog about yourself COMPLETELY effects the way you interact with other people.  Your partner.  Your family.  Your co-workers.  Your friends.  Your neighbors.  And the way we see ourselves, talk about ourselves, becomes our children inner dialog, their frame work of how to understand who they are.

Don't get me wrong, I still struggle with some of these things.  It's hard to live one way your entire life, and then try to think completely different.  It takes time, but God is faithful, and he has worked miracles in my heart already in this.

God is bigger than all of this, and heals every kind of pain and issue, but can't we participate in ending the cycle?  Helping give them a healthy self awareness?  A love for themselves because they are created by God?  This is what I want to give my daughter.  I used be very afraid that I couldn't overcome my own demons and create a healthy inner dialog for myself to ensure that I could give her one too.  But God is good, and he has done wonders in the dark places of my head.

And in the end, when I read this, its not even at all about the way we look.  It's about who we are.  .

Stopping the cycle of dysfunction

***Yes, you probably noticed the blog is different.  I tried to update it a little.  There is still some work to be done, but I am happy with the progress.  Maybe in a couple weeks, my blog and website will be in one spot.  Simplify right?***

Back to this blog...

I wasn't blessed to have faced all of my demons before marriage and incidentally before having children.  So it has become their burden as well to walk this life with me, broken, struggling, full of mistakes.  Just as  my husband hasn't laid down his dark spirits either, but I walk with him through dark times.  Our sweet innocent children haven't had major heartbreak yet, so their time will come.  I am not talking about sin, I am talking about the issues in your life that tear at your spirit, the ones you live with and are afraid to let go of.

For years, I  didn't want a daughter. I was scared she would see the demons.  In true honesty, I am more terrified I am slowly revealing the demons to her and handing them to her in a fun package that will weigh her down for the rest of her life.  I am handing them to her in the things I say, in the way I talk about myself, in the way I talk about other people.  Dark things that don't reflect confidence, or security.  Negative self talk, eating issues and one of my greatest downfalls, comparison.  Always seeing the better in others and the worse in myself.

The first day I had both my boys in school I cried a lot because I missed them.  I was a wreck for awhile, seriously, I didn't think it would be that hard.  But on that first day, I had a friend trying to cheer me up, and she said, "You get all this time with Little.  You have this rare three years of just you and her, and you get to teach her what it means to be a girl.  To be a woman."

My fear and insecurity and treacherous negative thoughts enveloped me at the thought of teaching someone else how to be something I don't even know how to be.  I am to be her role model.  Her example of a woman.  A wife.  A mother.  A christian.  A girlfriend.  A girl.

I took this picture the other night when I was up late, and Little woke up sad.  I pulled her out of bed and crawled on the couch to snuggle her and rub her back till she peacefully drifted back to her dreams.  I laid there looking at this face and just praying to God that I wouldn't screw her up so deeply that even He couldn't fix her.  How do I love her enough to hopefully not pass along all my issues, all my faults, all my insecurity about what it means to be a woman?

And then God slowly spoke in my ear..."give them to me.  You can't give them to her, if you've given them to me."

(what I love about this picture is that by just looking at it, you would never know the doubt, fear, control issues and insecurities that lie deep within someone.  Everyone is more than skin deep.)

See in order to teach Little how to love herself for who God created her to be, I need to face my issues with who I am and love me because I too belong to my creator. It's easy for me to say to my children, "I don't love you because you got a golden ticket at school, or you learned how to tie your shoe, or helped wash the dishes."  The same is true for the mistakes they make.  I don't see the good or the bad, I just see my kid, and I love them because they are mine. (I know they are God's and I do pray that my control issues will always allow me to understand that and not hold on too tight.)  But really, its just because they are apart of me, they are mine.  That is why I love them.  And I know that God would express the same opinion  about me if I dare ask that question and open my ears to hear the answer.

I love that face.  I mean I really love that face and the personality that goes with it and the girl that she is.  I am wholeheartedly in love with my daughter.  That night while she laid on my chest, I just wept.  I want the most for her life.  I want her to love without abandon.  I want her to have real confidence, the kind that comes from knowing that no matter what, she belongs to God Almighty and no make up or boy will ever change that.  I don't want her to be a people pleaser, always bending for the approval of others to the sacrifice of herself.

I deeply wish she won't be a perfectionist like me, never pleased with what she creates because it won't ever be good enough.  I don't want her inner dialog to be negative thoughts that tear at her character and value in this world.  I want her to live a life outside of guilt, unlike her mother, who is a struggling recovery addict to guilt.  I want her to feel comfortable in her body and skin without make up and a dress.  That she could love herself just as much in sweats as she would in glitter.

I deeply desire that she would know that her beauty is far more greater and goes much deeper than her skin. She will be told she's beautiful her whole life, because she is, and I am terrified that it will take her a lifetime to realize that it is her heart and character that make up her beauty.  I don't want her to use her beauty to manipulate people like her mother did in High School.  I don't want her to use her beauty to obtain privileges that aren't rightfully hers just because she has big stunning eyes.

I don't want her to think she has to perform for us to gain our acceptance.  That she needs to be funny, outgoing, creative, exciting all the time, but that truly we love her without those things.  That she could be whoever she wants or needs to be and that is all we ask, for her to be true to herself and in tune with the creator who made her.

I desperately want her to realize that I don't want her to be me, but I want her to be her.  I desire for her to forge her own path.  To find out what being a woman looks like for her.  To love and respect who've I become, but look at me and say, "I want to do things different."

Helping her means having to face my own demons.  Helping her means letting go of all my baggage.  Teaching her means forgiving myself.  Guiding her means loving myself.  Respecting myself.  Believing in the woman I have become.  It doesn't mean perfect, it means respect.  Respect for the mistakes I've made and the forgiveness and understanding I've gained.  It means respect for my body and how it ages.  How I talk about myself will speak directly into her self talk of what a woman is.  Oh man, I am one respect away from quoting the song, so I'll stop before my inner Aretha comes out.

So far this girl has her own strong opinions about everything.  Her clothes, the way her animals should go to sleep on her bed, her hair, her toys, her books, her food.  She has nothing short of the strongest will I've ever seen.  I don't want to break that with giving her my issues.  I want to help train her in how to use that.

I want to help her embrace her life.  I want her to always love food, art, music, people, books, God and her family.  I desire for her character to run deep and her faith to be strong, so that when she is faced with trial, she can confidently stand in the grace she has known all her life.  I prayed a lot that night with my daughter tucked in tight with me.  I let go of my fear and insecurity of raising her.  I held on to my other issues, because apparently I'm not done with those yet.  But I don't look at her with fear anymore.  I look at her with hope.  I am hopeful because I know God is capable of healing me and helping her.  I have hope, and in that hope, I can love my daughter with abandon and fearlessness.  I don't know what "a woman" is supposed to look like, but I look like me, and I'm what she's got, so we'll start there.

And the thing I pray over Little every night is, "Let your insides match your outsides sweet girl."  And I believe God answers prayer.