fireworks eternal

 
"Is this the grand finale?" Reese kept asking.

Because it's the grand finale we're really waiting for. The other fireworks? They're just leading up to the main event. Sure we ooh and aah at them, but they're not really what we came to see.

We're waiting for the moment when light and sound go crazy sparking the night sky and reverberating deep in our souls.

Last year as we thrilled to the rapid fire fire-light's, the Holy Spirit nudged me..."And God is greater."

Think on that...

We applaud what burns and fizzles in seconds, what lights the sky but a breath and an echo that fades.


But God is greater!

For surely He spoke to me in that moment to remind me that His glory will far surpass the grand finale of human-made pyrotechnics. He will be brighter, more dazzling of color and His voice will thunder. And He will not fizzle or fade. God is our fireworks eternal.

january :: february

January 2014: snow, snow,snow; not one full week of school the whole month (!) due to cold/snow days and scheduled days off; training as a Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) Children's Leader for me; huge snow piles; visits to the pond at Dad & Mom's to feed the ducks and geese; Dave entering his second year in the Master's program; continued work on the house rehab; many times of feeling anxious and overwhelmed balanced by lots of sledding down hills and some cross country skiing

January 2013: It's hard to believe that a year ago, Dave started the Master's program full time and we only beginning to prayerfully consider whether to sell our other house. I remember praying that we would move by the end of February, but am so thankful God didn't move us until July!

finding beauty in the sunsets despite the frigid temperatures

this was after one brief thaw - the massive snow pile gave the kids a leg up for climbing the tree

a skating party?

February 2014: more snow and cold; squeezing in some more sledding; winter hikes on a river bed, sliding down steep hills on our bottoms, walking out on the lake, the kids learning the joys, and dangers, of tunneling into snow banks - this was the first time in years we had enough snow to even make a snow bank!; traveling to celebrate Nan's 90th birthday with a pit stop at Niagara Falls on the way home; Brie, Reese & Luke starting Tae Kwon Do; looking back at the pictures, it's hard to believe how much snow we had!


February 2013: We began preparing the house to move although we 100%  "there" on selling it; I was preparing for my first mission trip into the city and learned so much about urban missions; God was really using the BSF study we were doing on Genesis to speak to my heart about this new adventure He had us on of a major change in direction for Dave and moving homes.

And to think God washes us whiter than snow!

ready for another run

apparently, a toppled tree makes for an amusing shelter :)

I've heard of giving bunny ears in a picture, but this is a little ridiculous ;)

I've got cabin feveeeeeerrrrrr!

Nan & Moses on our walk at Crawford Lake before the birthday celebration

C'mon Jack

cousins sitting on a lizard

my first time seeing Niagara Falls frozen like this - it reminded me of meringue

and the American side view

Reese who? (taken at the Hershey store at the Falls)

returning

Well, we've moved. We're in. And has it been almost a month already? It seems ages ago.

Despite our much smaller living accommodations, I'm grateful we're back in the same flat (the European word for "apartment".... "apartment" is a clunky word. "Flat" sounds sophisticated) we started out in when we were first married. The shadows of our old rhythms and routines greeting us and helping us to settle in.

Though it was funny to think of me sitting at our dining table 12 years ago, addressing our wedding invitations. Never did I think we'd be bringing four children back to the same place, eating at the same table. And I would never have imagined Dave and I making the sun room our bedroom with its nine (!) windows or that our old bedroom would house two of our energetic boys in a new-to-us bunk bed.

We've returned. Older, larger in family though smaller in frame, and, happily, knowing God is at our side - He was a relative stranger when we first left.

There are some other things I wish I could return to. Like the years when my grandparents were both alive and living in their duplex on Northfield Dr. I find myself missing them greatly and I'm not sure why exactly. My Grandpa died more than 12 years ago and my Nan 3 years ago. Does missing loved one really grow stronger with age or is it something else?

Perhaps I'm missing is the simplicity of childhood and early adulthood. The times where I couldn't exactly do what I wanted, but I didn't have to pay the bills or prepare the meals or be responsible for keeping the clean. I miss the days of someone else caring for me instead of me caring for me plus four other precious souls who need their bodies and spirits fed.

"Sit on my knee and tell me all your troubles?" An invitation my grandpa often extended when we visited. And I would smile and giggle to myself because very rarely would I have any "troubles" to share. I miss hearing that now - when I really do feel burdened at times with the decisions and doings of being a full time mother.

I have a sneaking suspicion is using this dull-grief-ache to remind me how fleeting are the years of childhood and how I am to make the most of them right now. Not mine of course, but those of our four dear arrows.

As Brianna approached her 10th birthday it stunned me to think we already were approaching one decade (!!!) as parents. Ten whole years with the next ten threatening to zoom by in a flash. Will we be able to make the most of them? To squeeze in enough kisses and cuddles and laughter and stern words of correction to train them in the way they should go. To press into the challenging times of whining, complaining, arguing, tantrum throwing and blatant disrespect when really, I'd rather bury myself in a book, the bed covers or chores or just plain walk out the door in search of a new job description.   

And I've now run out of any creative ways to wrap up this post, save to ask you a question: Is there any time or place in your life you find yourself wanting to return to? What do you think God might be speaking to you through this desire?

when God moves you

Fifteen years ago, God laid a dream on my husband's heart. Last December, He made it quite clear now was the time for David to pursue that dream.

Two years ago, I began praying that we would move - a desire placed there by God, whispers of greater dreams to come. Tuesday, this was planted in our front yard.
 

And the emotions swirl.

Excitement. Apprehension. Sadness. Joy. Gratitude. Plus many times of questioning our sanity...if we're doing the right thing.

Because for the past nine years, God has blessed us with a beautiful home with a made-for-kids backyard on an idyllic street. A home which has accommodated our growing family and changing interests and comfortably welcomed in many, many family and friends over the years.

It's hard to shed the second skin.

It's harder when you are shedding that second skin for a much smaller one. (At least, we think it will be much smaller. We're waiting for the final word from God on that one).


But when God moves you, the skin which once fit so well begins to chaff.

So we shed this skin in faith that God has a better one in store. Skin more suited to these God-sized dreams we've been dreaming. It may take a little getting used to, but we can trust our Maker - the One who is in the business of trading our fig leaves for cloth designed and wrought by Him.

urban mission trip revisited

Two months out and I'm finally ready to recap my urban mission trip experience. :) Speaking about the experience at church on Sunday gave me the push to put pen to paper and capture the thoughts swirling 'round my brain since experiencing our city in a whole new way.

Since it's been so long, here's the recap, though if you really want a refresher here's the link to the series I did preceding the trip.

• I've wanted to go on a mission trip ever since my parents began leading teams down to the Dominican Republic   
• The trip was three days - Friday evening to Sunday afternoon
• It was in the city next to ours which equaled 15 minutes from home
• It was $150
• It was clear there was no reason to not go
• To prepare for the trip, we were required to attend an urban poverty seminar where we learned about the differing perspectives between the lower and middle classes and the daily challenges faced by the urban poor  

our bunks

Here's what I did...

Friday: After choosing our bunks at the mission house, we ate dinner and play games with teen girls who were refugees from Liberia followed by a discussion about the future of urban missions

Saturday: Work day. There were several projects available. I had the opportunity to bake with and read to children in the city's worst neighborhood and learn how that ministry was lifting up the community in so many ways. That afternoon I helped sort clothes for a homeless ministry - a ministry that began with bringing spaghetti to homeless people in the downtown area. After dinner, we learned more about refugees, immigrants, student visas and the "undocumented and discussed the challenges generally faced by any non-English speaking person trying to integrate into American life.

Sunday: We worshiped at an urban church, had lunch and then learned about an Arabic ministry out of the nonprofit which partnered with the church for the mission trip.

baking cupcakes for the kids to take home to their mothers

Throughout the trip, we worshiped, prayed and sought God's heart for the city. It was a whirlwind of a trip and I would have loved to spend a much longer time working among the poor and foreigners among us. And perhaps some day I will.

But for now, while motherhood is my full time ministry, I'm asking God to continue pressing upon me the lessons He's been teaching me for months now and used the urban mission trip to solidify. And it's this:

I used to content myself with giving money or my stuff and thinking that satisfied God's call to help those in need.

But it doesn't go far enough.

clothes stacked and sorted for the homeless ministry

Yes, it will feed the hungry and clothe the naked - for a while. But it doesn't address why they were hungry or naked to begin with. And it does nothing for me either.

Because I believe that God asks us to minister to the "least of these" not just to meet their needs, but to meet our needs to. I believe He loves us so much He wants to see us changed for the better spiritually as much as He desires circumstances of the poor  improved physically.

I have witnessed this change in myself and I've seen God's glory in new ways and the good news of the Gospel has become that much clearer.

And here's the interesting thing and something I learned in the urban poverty seminar: relationships - the giving of our selves - are the very thing the poor value most.

Relationships are the currency of the poor.

So all of us have this amazing opportunity in our own backyards. Not only can we feed the hungry and clothe the poor, but we can build relationships with them. And when we do this "extra-mile" giving, our lives can become as transformed as the ones we serve.


If you feel the tug on your heart to explore urban ministry opportunities and are not sure where to begin, leave a comment with your email and I'd be happy to help you find resources to get you started.

lately

So I know I still haven't posted on what happened on the mission trip. And I will get to it...soon. I think I'm still processing through how it is impacting my life. It's really easy to be all fired up and raring to go coming off a mission trip. But I'm learning that the deeper, God-impacted ways often take a little longer to settle in and take on definition. And I want to share about those lasting imprints and not just the superficial ones. So I wait a little longer...

And the things that have been on my heart often these days revolve around urban ministry, relationship building, learning about the hurts of this world, giving the religious spirit in my life the boot, pressing into my calling as a mother, praying for financial peace and desiring joyful, Christ-contagious living.


Because I'm a reader, I find myself seeking out reading material to give greater definition to my rattled thoughts and to hear God speaking in new ways.

If you're reading this, I'm assuming you too enjoy a good read, so here are some of the books I've consumed lately to accompany these themes:

Urban ministry & relationship building: How to Hug a Smelly Guy by Jeff Johnson

Learning about the hurts of this world: In Land of the Blue Burqas by Kate McCord and God Grew Tired of Us (we watched the movie last night )

Giving the religious spirit in my life the book: God Without Religion by Andrew Farley

Pressing into my calling as a mother:  Cleaning House by Kay Wills Wyma - I haven't started this one yet. I just learned about it today as Amy is hosting a book club starting April 18. But it fits with this growing theme for me.

Praying for financial peace: Total Money Makeover & Financial Peace by Dave Ramsey - which ironically also brought on anxiety but I'm trusting God to show us the way as let some of these money lessons settle on our hearts

Desiring joyful, Christ-centered living: There's only One source for that - the Bible. So I'm grateful for the BSF study on Genesis and John MacArthur's study on Acts that I'm doing with our Life Group.  

Any other recommended reads for these categories? How has God been speaking to you lately?

pregnant with expectation

I feel like I'm pregnant.

I'm not (!) physically, but spiritually, I am.

I am heavy with waiting to birth whatever God is going to birth in me, in us, in this season of Dave-going-back-to-school-and-neither-of-us-is-working-in-the-traditional-sense-of-working-for-a-paycheck.

There is a time in pregnancy when the due date approaches, when the back aches and the waddle exaggerates and just turning over in bed is a special op maneuver and you know your baby can survive outside the womb that cradles... It's at this point you say "Now Lord. I'm ready for this baby to be birthed today. Please, let it be NOW!"

But He says, "Not yet."

So with every passing minute, you wonder if it is the minute for labor to begin. But the minutes keeps ticking into hours, into days, into weeks? Thankfully, those final stretch minutes don't tick into months and the longest I've heard any women going past their due date is three weeks.  A very looong, feels-like-another-trimester three weeks.

This is where I am right now.

Except I don't have the assurance of an end date in sight. Scripture is hardly comforting in this matter if you're looking for God to answer quickly. After all, Abraham & Sarah, Isaac & Rebekah, Jacob, Rachel, Joseph, Hannah, Elizabeth and countless others were waiting years, decades, to hear God's "Now!" And will I be able to wait that long?

Enter: Faith.

It carries us beyond our ability to see, to hear, to bear. Through faith, we ride the current of God's faithfulness to see us through the gestation period. And when I don't think I can bear it one. minute. longer., He reminds me how the ones who waited and trusted in Him were blessed beyond all they could ask or image...

Abraham & Sarah...received a son in the line of Christ
Isaac & Rebekah...blessed with a twins - a double portion
Jacob...returned home with a family, wealth, a new name and to a brother who no longer wanted to kill him
Rachel...birthed a baby who would save his family from starvation
Joseph...elevated to second in command in all of Egypt
Hannah...birthed the prophet who would anoint David king over Israel
Elizabeth... birthed the prophet would would prepare the way for, and baptize, Jesus


Is there something you too wait for in expectation? Or do you have a story to share of a time you waited on God and are now reaping the blessings of waiting in faith? Please share that we may pray and be encouraged.

transformation

Friday: Reese dressed as Willy Wonka for "Dress as Your Favorite Character" Day at school. At first he wanted to be a character from "Around the World in 80 Days" but couldn't remember the characters name. He was easily transformed with the additional of a paper hat and spiffy vest with matching pants and a collared shirt.

Sunday: Luke wanted to build a city and invited me to join him. Math tools, Lego (of course!) and our dining table transformed to a mini urban center.

Later that night, Dave suggested we measure Brie's hair to see if it was long enough to donate. It was! And with *several* snips she changed from our wee 9-year-old into a most definitely soon to be 10-year-old.

Monday: I cooked up additional play dough colors for Ben. He smooshed and smashed them into a cake creation and generously offered me half of the final product. I'm not sure if he would do the same if it were a real cake. But then, neither would I be able to manage to eat it all anyway.

And God spoke "tranformation" to me though them. I've been praying for God to change those inner places desperate for His Light and saving work.

But when push comes to shove, my flesh prefers the changes to happen as easily as donning a hat or bringing together many pieces to form something new. I remind God He can do anything so why not perfect me in Christ right this very. minute. Poof! A new me.

The reality is these transformation occur slowly and often involve a LOT of cutting away and smooshing and smashing - the kind that mixes up all the colors so you can't separate them no matter how hard you try.

It's the mixology of God.  

And we cannot be separated from His love. And we are made alive in Christ. And we who were separated are now brought near by His blood.

And that is good news.

Jesus was a refugee

 {Continuing with the "relative foreigner" series this week as I gear up for my urban mission trip this weekend.}

Twenty (!) years ago we moved to England. So I know what it's like to be an "alien in a foreign land."

Despite the fact that I cried for the first month of moving there because change challenges me, it wasn't exactly a hardship. After all, we already knew the language (grin), were familiar with some of the traditional foods (my grandmother was a British war bride) and I attended an American Community School which minimized the differences in my high school education. Enhanced it, in fact. (See the bottom of this post for some fun differences we experienced across the pond.)

My mom saw it as a 2.5 year vacation. I think coming back and readjusting to life state-side proved the bigger challenge.

But what if that move was not really our desire and to a country where the language, customs, people, everything, were completely foreign to us? I think I might have cried longer than one month.

So the plight of the refugee is especially close to my heart. And knowing God chose this status for His Son in His tender years makes it all the more dear.

Because it's hard to imagine leaving a country you love, mostly like displaced because of war. Or trying to navigate multiple airports without a guide. Or arriving in your new country where the language barrier makes every. day. harder. And receiving a whirlwind tour of your new home and encountering a stove, a fridge, a light switch for the first time.

And over the course of the next few months, trying to learn English, get a job, find childcare, get around without a car, decipher the piles of paperwork arriving at your door and try to navigate the establishments that are just part of the American scenery...schools, grocery stores, banks, post offices, libraries, restaurants, not to mention the laws and customs spoken and unspoken.

It's exhausting and overwhelming just typing it.

But there is hope for these families because of refugee mentor training programs. Dave and I are signed up to attend one later this month. We're hoping to join the other couples in our church who mentor refugee families, helping them to transition to North American life. And a quick online search or inquiry at your local city government could reveal a similar program available in your area if you have a refugee population settling there.

Jesus was a refugee. He still is. And the good news is that He's in my own backyard.

Do not oppress an alien; you yourselves know how it feels to be aliens, because you were aliens in Egypt. (Exodus 23:9 NIV 1984)

Life in England: A Snapshot of Differences

• The door handles are placed much higher on the door, perhaps to prevent children from opening the ones they should not touch? (my theory)
• I don't know if this still is true, but twenty years ago, the stores closed by 5 p.m. or 6 p.m. - planning required!
• The fridges were smaller requiring frequent trips to the store - the focus was on fresh
• If we desired it, we could have had our milk delivered in bottles daily
• The parking spaces were much narrower, but the cars were smaller too
• They served ice cream in the movie theater
• Cadbury (chocolate) vending machines were in the tube (subway) stations.
• "Mind the gap" was not an advertisement for the chain store - it was a caution for tube travelers to mind the space between the platform and the tube
• Ploughman's lunches are standard offerings in pubs - usually consisting of bread, cheese and fruit
• I miss, miss, miss the roundabouts - they make so much more sense than stop signs!
• You couldn't turn left on red (equivalent to us turning right on red. the whole driving on the other side of the road thing)
• Peanut butter was not such a big deal there (gasp!). Marmite (yeast extract) was. What would I do now without the PBJ standby for the kid's lunches?
• They had unique flavors for their crisps (chips) like prawn cocktail.
• To my delight, most black candy was flavored black currant, not black licorice

Jesus was homeless

{Continuing with the "relative foreigner" series this week as I gear up for my urban mission trip this weekend.}

It's a thought that brings me up short. Jesus was homeless. God again choosing the absurd things of this world to shame all that would appear to make sense.

Crazy.

Yet there must be some lesson in this for us comfort-loving creations of His. Perhaps along the lines of what it means to really live by faith? Day in day out trusting Him for the daily bread He promises if we seek His kingdom first.


So far, my relationship with the homeless has been one of distance. I see them on a city street corner and I see evidence of their "shelters" in run down parts of the city. Never in suburbia, mind you, because when we have, we don't want the have-nots reminding us what we are all a few steps away from.

I pass them by at highway on-ramps and off-ramps conveniently designed to keep our interactions brief, impersonal, unless we step out of the car...

I'm tired of this distance, these walls that keep us from knowing poverty and homelessness personally. From knowing the faces and the stories and deep thirsts and hunger of the hurting among us.

So what I am to do?

I don't know exactly. At this point, the best ideas I've had so far are striking up a conversation with a beggar on a street corner, even if it means parking somewhere and getting out of my car. Or driving around the city on a Sunday morning with a huge pot of oatmeal in our car, looking for the hungry, sharing a meal before we head off to the place we called church. Somehow that feels right. Being the church, not just visiting it.

Any other wacky, Jesus-loving ideas out there for loving the homeless, Jesus-in-disguise? I'd love to hear what you've dared to do or want to dare to try.

If you're looking for additional reading material, here are two books I can recommend. The first I've read, the other is on my list (but I've heard from a friend it's really good):
Under the Overpass by Mike Yankoski
How to Hug a Smelly Guy by Jeff Johnson

for Bob

It started with Bob. 

I first "met" him in a parking lot when the weather was dancing between warm one day and cold the next. He sat in his wheelchair holding a sign stating his need for help followed by the kicker "God bless."

Often advised against handing out money, I decided to help by purchasing food in the store which brought me to that parking lot in the first place. With my assortment in hand, I drove over to Bob (although we hadn't met formally yet), got out of the car and told him I had a few things for him. I asked him his name, exchanged benign pleasantries and went about my day, glad to have "helped" someone.

I saw him several times after that and would often buy something for him from the store, each time bringing him my purchases, giving a quick smile and hurrying about my day, glad to be done with this mortifying "good deed" of the day. I'd rather give without anyone knowing, least of all the intended recipient. Maybe it's because this felt more like bringing treats to a dog, rather than authentically loving a complete stranger as I love myself. 

Anyway... I soon began to wonder if he might like to be asked what kind of food was his favorite. Since there is a pizza place in the same plaza as the food store, I decided to ask him, expecting he would be pleased with an inquiry about his personal food preferences.

Instead, I received a lashing about his need for money not food because someone had ripped him off and all he wanted to do was buy his sons something electronic for Christmas. (Please do not judge him for this...I learned at the poverty seminar this past Saturday, that these types of diversions provide a means of temporary escape for people dealing with tough circumstances daily. Kind of like those week long vacations and cruises people with money enjoy taking now and then.)        

Crushed, I started back to my car. Contrite, he called me back, apologized and gave me an order for the pizza he'd like.

For a long time after that, I told God I just couldn't give to this guy anymore. I knew it wasn't really helping him with the things he really needed help with. And I felt helpless for not knowing how to help him. Interestingly, I never saw him in the parking lot after that - though I did see him in another part of town, but as usual, I was driving and was "too busy" to stop. Typical.

Ever since then I've been praying for God to show me how to make a lasting difference in the life of the poor. Because donating money, clothes, food, whatever stuff I no longer need or am just plain bored with, it doesn't change a thing. Yes, it helps. For a moment.    

But it doesn't really change the situation that brought a person to poverty in the first place. Because I'm assuming that most people in poverty did not choose it as a way of life. If you know different, please tell me.

However, I believe Jesus did. After all He chose to be born into poverty. Got right down in the dirt with us. But I don't get the sense it bothered Him. After all He was the one who told us not to worry about things like what we would eat or wear. And I will gladly give the clothes, food, money, stuff to people who chose to live by faith, like Jesus, trusting God will bring them what they need when they need it.

But for the downtrodden, the oppressed, the impoverished, giving stuff just isn't enough.

I recently finished The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne Don't read it unless you're ready to take off those rose-colored glasses of who the church is now and see who she is meant to be. The Way brought to life. Here. Now. A living way to help the poor among us.



And the poverty seminar clarified why I've had this holy dissatisfaction with handout giving lately. It's because it lacks the one thing people in poverty value - relationships. And relationships are where authentic living and transformation begin to bloom.

It started with Bob, it continues with the mission trip and only God knows where He will take me from there. But I trust it will be to the deeper places of His heart and the deeper places where He hurts for His children and so if it's down in the dirt with the poor than there's no better place I could be, because He got there first.  

do you have 30 seconds?

Great!

If you have less than a minute, forget about the rest of this post, just click here to visit the International Justice Mission's campaign to ask President Obama to help make freeing modern day slaves a priority.



If you have more than 30 seconds, then please feel free to continue reading... :)

As I mentioned yesterday, I'm dedicating this week to information about and ways to help fight poverty and homelessness and learn more about refugees.

One of the quickest, easiest ways I've found (so far) is by signing up for emails from the International Justice Mission. They help me stay informed on issues that must be bring God to tears (and so I must cry out too) AND provide quick ways to make a difference just by signing my name to a petition. Because one of the causes of poverty and social injustice starts with legislation.

Really, it's hard to come up with an excuse not to get involved when all I need to do is fill out a few fields to add my name to a petition.

But they also have ways to delve more deeply into helping unravel the knotty issues of earthly living. Here's a link to their "Getting Involved" page if the Lord is tugging on your heart strings to learn more and do more. 

And if you know of other resources which provide simple, clear strategies for fighting poverty, homelessness and modern-day slavery, please comment with the information.

relative foreigner

On Friday, I dip my toe into the mission field for the first time. I won't be going far from home. Just a few miles, but it will be a world apart from mine.

It's an urban mission trip. One designed to open the eyes of the insulated to urban poverty, the homeless and refugees - the world at our doorstep.

Really, I couldn't say no. I've wanted to do a mission for years - ever since my parents began leading teams to the Dominican Republic on construction missions. So a mission trip in my own backyard, for one weekend, at a very affordable price...well, any excuse for not doing would just be an excuse.

This week, to gear myself up for the trip, I'll be sharing information and resources related to the issues of urban poverty, homelessness and the plight of refugees. Think of it as a mini-mini-series.

I hope you'll join me on this venture and begin to see your neck of the woods with new eyes as I already am experiencing. And I'll post about my experience sometime next week.

Part of the requirements for this trip was to attend an urban poverty seminar which I did this past Saturday. It was amazing and intense.


If, like me, you are a relative foreigner to these issues, here is some information I learned this weekend that may open your eyes as wide as it did mine:

• The currency of poverty is relationships, it's what people in poverty value and center many of their choices around. The middle-class? All about achievement and it's probably no surprise that money drives this circle and our decisions.
• There are many answers to the question, "What causes poverty?" I can sum it all up in two words: WE do. We, all of us, cause poverty. It's a mix of personal choices, unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances (does anyone ask for mental illness or a debilitating injury?), legislation & politics and structures we, the "haves," put in place to protect us from the "have nots."
• Scary thought: like many of our institutions, the church largely emulates middle-class values and structures. This isn't necessarily a bad thing as many of these values keeps things from descending into chaos. But it becomes a problem when the church is meant to be a body cohesive and inclusive and if one part of the body (the poor) feels it doesn't belong because these structures are intimidating, then we have some walls to tear down.
• In poverty, power and respect cannot be separated, but they are separated in the middle class. For example, an impoverished person will leave a job if they do not feel respected by their boss. Someone in the middle class would stick that job out, especially if it's a stepping stone to the next rung of the ladder.  

accepting imperfection

Today, Ben and I stirred a pot together. Brownies for my sister's birthday (this time topped with coconut, not peanut butter).

 And I am being stirred.

It's that old momma guilt churning up again. My desires and duties mixed with questions of priorities and the reality that Ben will not be this size forever and probably will be off to school in a year-and-a-half.

Today the pot bubbled vigorously. 

I wanted it to be a morning focused solely on birthday lunch preparations to celebrate my sister. But the reality of Ben needing, deserving my attention at least some of those hours bit hard. And here's where the guilt comes in.

Shouldn't I want to lay down my work and sit down with him? Enjoying life at knee-high level, oblivious to the relentless tick, tick, tick of the clock, clock, clock? Especially when I read stories of parents, like Daisy's, who are in the trenches battling for their daughter's life. 

I do...

And yet, I also delight in doing things for others, beyond my four wee arrows. And I like tidying up the house somewhat because life feels lighter when I'm not tripping over shoes, toys, books, large boxes from a new sink, and sloshing through crumbs and dust bunnies. And there's the reality that if I don't cook, we don't eat.

And I think this guilt comes from expectations I put on myself for what I think a good mother looks like. And other people's idea of what a good mother looks like.

And I wonder if the women of yore ever felt this struggle. But perhaps they were just focused on surviving and dealing with the reality that survival and the most basic of chores took hours. Days even.

So could these modern inventions designed to make our lives easier, make them harder in other ways? Because now that we have more time for other things, we mothers open ourselves to guilt if we place our to do lists above spending time with our children?

I don't know.

What I do know is that God placed me in this specific time, place and location for a specific purpose. And I am constantly going to fail at living out that purpose perfectly. 

I need to let false idol of achieving perfection in my own strength go. Some idols are harder to fall than others.

So for today I face imperfect me and decided to accept her warts and all. And chose to have Ben help make the brownies. And let him play by himself for a while. And cooked some more. And accepted God's grace at having my mom stay for the afternoon which freed me up to read to Ben and play at knee-high level. 

And it feels pretty good. This acceptance of God's grace and the warts. This acceptance of imperfect me.

the ride of your life

I've been going through Genesis with Bible Study Fellowship (BSF - it's international so there may be one near you if you want to check it out). It's amazing how much God has been speaking to me through Abraham's story and the whole trusting/believing Him thing.

This week we're reading about Sarah and the birth of Isaac and how God brought her laughter with his birth. And I think that is the kind of joy and laughter we can expect when we believe Him to do the impossible and wait on Him to bring life where it appears no life exists.

I wonder if that's why He had Abraham and Sarah wait so long. He could have given them Isaac earlier, just after Sarah went through menopause. But perhaps He wanted to remove even the slightest inkling in their minds that they could conceive a child on their own. There must have been a reason He wanted them to recognize they pretty much had one foot in the grave before He gave them new life and resurrected what was dead (see Romans here).

This brought me such hope because Dave and I are at the beginning of the waiting season. We're not sure how God is going to work all the details out and how close to He will bring us to death in certain areas of our lives. Because some things have to die before we see resurrection.

But what do we do in the meantime, while we await the resurrection, while we feel we are hanging, on barely to our hope, our dreams, our life. 

I think we choose to believe we're on the roller coaster ride of our life. Maybe it's cliche, but hang with me for a moment.

I think most people would agree roller coasters are thrilling to ride. Right?

We find joy in feeling our stomachs reach our throats, scare ourselves with the plummet down the first big hill and get banged around the loops and twists and turns of the track. We perceive this is fun because we trust the safety mechanisms will hold and the car will stay on the track.

Imagine that exact same ride done in an ordinary car. Not so fun. I'd probably throw up or pass out from the sheer terror of it. Because I couldn't trust that everything would turn out all right in the end.

And that's what God's been speaking to me lately...that I'm to trust I'm on a roller coaster with Him the power behind the car and the safety net that will keep the car on the tracks. He whispers, "Enjoy the ride. I have you covered. And that first big hill? The one you're speeding down and convinced you're about to crash at the bottom? That's the one that's setting you up for the ride of your life. So enjoy it. Laugh out loud. Raise your hands in the air. Scream with joy. And I'll meet you there at the end."

 We're just gearing up for the real ride before us, chugging up that first hill. Click. Click. Click. Holding our breath, closing our eyes, anticipating what is to come. Click. And though I can't promise God I exactly adore the feeling of my stomach in my throat, I will ask Him to keep me trusting Him for the thrilling ride that's ahead. Because He's got this. It's in His hands. 

a year with no mistakes in it...yet

It's taken me 36 years to see the value in making resolutions at the new year's advent. I resisted in the past because it seemed so...so...pedestrian (I had to look up a good word to capture my attitude toward this new year trend). And making resolutions simply for the sake of making them, but without realty caring whether I broke them or not seemed disingenuous.

But now...

Now I'm beginning to see the wisdom and blessing in dreaming up goals for the new year...one with no mistakes in it - yet (to loosely quote L.M. Montgomery). I certainly made plenty of mistakes in 2012, so the potential of a mistake free year in 2013 is rather appealing. Do I really think I will go an entire year without making one mistake?

No, but there is hope and God's mercies are new every morning and with each rising of sun in sky comes the invitation to embrace the day the Lord has made and to try. my. best. to live the dreams He places on my heart.

And then, of course, there's the fun of looking back from December 31 to see which resolutions stuck, which ones faded away and those not fully realized but the summit is nearer now than 365 days ago.

So here are a few of mine for 2013:
1. Memorize one Bible verse a week with my family.

2. Read the Old Testament in one year to my children. 

3. Get back into exercising on a regular basis and minimize the times when that plan becomes derailed. I finally went for a run again yesterday, snow covered sidewalks and all because I'd finally had enough of not doing any cardio beyond carrying laundry baskets up and down stairs.



4. Continue to press into what it means to love God fully and fully love others as I love myself.



5. Cultivate a habit of holy thanksgiving. I took Ann's joy dare last year...

...and will do so again this year, but with the goal of writing thanksgivings every day and especially in the hard times.

6. Prepare for birthdays and special events at least one month before they happen. Lately, I've developed a habit of throwing things together within a few days before the event which doesn't leave much time for really giving it my all or savoring the event itself.



7. For Advent (because I felt this year's was a total fail): meditate on an aspect of the nativity and/or a Scripture verse and write a devotional for each day of advent. I'm hoping this resolution will help prepare my heart for celebrating Christ's birth and receive God's greatest gift to us.   

losing weight and writing

I'm trying to lose weight.

No, not that kind. In fact, it's hard to keep weight on with a low(er)-fat, whole foods, cut-back-on-the-sugars vegan diet.

The weight I'm trying to shed is the weight of stuff. As Jesus fills me with more of Himself, it just doesn't leave much room for the things the world tells us is important. And I'm desperately trying to shed pounds. I've shed many in the past few months, but I have so much more to go.

There's part of me that struggles to believe that making do with less really does lead to the life abundant, but a tiny shred of faith hangs on, urging me to press in and press on and give away meaningfully. I think this would be much easier to do in a culture where most people have four questionable walls and a sketchy roof and rags for clothes and garbage for food. After all, having trendy knickknacks and well appointed furniture just doesn't enter the picture when you're trying to survive.

But in this culture? Now that's tough. Would I feel the same about inviting people into our home if we went smaller, or didn't have enough chairs to go around or lived somewhere less beautiful?

If we downsize, will the number of moments where I feel the walls pressing in on me outweigh the moments of joy of small, intimate, light-weight living?

I don't know.

All I know right now is the desire to lose the weight.

I want it in my schedule too. Which is why I'm struggling to post and write online. I love writing and sharing but it takes so much time. Even "quick" posts aren't really that quick at all.

So I'm trying a new thing and asking God to order my steps and shape my days. Yes, I've done that in the past before, but there was always a part of me that had some goal in mind, a purpose to live out, an agenda to fulfill. Basically, I was trying to relinquish control without really relinquishing it.

Which doesn't work at all.

So I'm prayerfully asking God what He would have me do with the desire to write. Will it mean a new direction, a different one, or will this be a time to lay it all down? Thankfully, He knows the plans and the answers and in that I can rest.

Thank you Lord, that I am not in control.


    

day 31: this is just the beginning

This is it - the last day of writing for 31 days on diving deeply into love.

Let me just take a moment to praise God because from the second week on, I wasn't sure how I was going to make it this far.

{Hallelujah! Thank You, Lord. Amen}

But that's the way God works...carrying you beyond your own strength. 

And really, this is just the beginning because it takes more than 31 days to learn how to love deeply. I need more time to soak in what it means to dive into love deeply. Writing these posts was wonderful, but it also made it harder to be still and focus on the challenges.

All of this writing? It was just God's way of getting me to think about how to love Him heart, soul, mind and strength and to love others...those I love already, the poor in spirit, my (gulp) enemies, strangers, myself.

I need more than 31 days to complete all of the challenges. I'm still stuck somewhere between weeks one and two, though I did manage to squeak in a few challenges from weeks three and four by God's grace.

photo source

So let today be the first day of the real adventure in deep love diving. May it become a lifestyle, conscious choice and a second skin. That's my prayer for today and every day here on out and may these pages and these posts reflect God's love and encourage others to do this deep love dive too.

If you joined me for one or more days of diving, what challenge challenged you the most? And how is God growing you in the areas of love?  

*Images for the Deep Love Diving banners and buttons were courtesy of this site.

day 30: how love grows your prayers

Last night came "the storm."

Trees waved wildly, power flickered then went out, glass from our second story porch landed on the neighbor's driveway, wind moaned through cracks and crevices, pushed doors open; slammed others shut.

And I rejoiced that even in the worst of storms, we can feel God's peace and know Him to be stronger than the strongest wind and seek Him as our fortress and shelter.

I thanked Him for the inner calm through the storm.

That's a good thing - rejoicing when the world rages around you - but when you dive deeply into love, God begins to expand your horizons and changes your prayers.   

And when you reach the mark of peace that surpasses all understanding, God doesn't leave you there. He moves you to the next step.

He moved me last night.

He reminded me that although I might feel all calm and peaceful and trusting in Him, there are many who don't know Him or whose peace is easily shaken.

And when you are learning to love deeply, suddenly He expands your prayers from focusing on "me and mine" and opens you up to pray for others and think of others in ways you never considered before.

So will you join me in magnified prayer?  Let's ask Him to:

• Show us how we can help the elderly or homebound when they lose power - perhaps with a meal, extra blankets or bringing them to a place with heat
• Use His provisions of heat and electricity during winter storms to bless others who have lost theirs
• Wake the workers who need to get to their jobs, especially if their alarm clocks stop working while they sleep
• Expand the patience for us all while we are waiting for power to return and give grace to the people who are working to clean up messes and restore electricity
• Use these storms to help us shine His light and love into the lives of those who do not know Him

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*Images for the Deep Love Diving banners and buttons were courtesy of this site.