When the Answer Doesn't Come

As I lifted my dear family up in prayer one day in late September, my words seem to reverberate off the ceiling and back down to me. I couldn't remember how long I'd been praying for him. Days, months, years, decades? Was I crazy to continue petitioning God for an answer that may never come? Was I truly interceding on behalf of this person or was I simply wishing for an ending that was impossible?

As these questions and doubts circled through my brain I remembered the words of Pastor Cymbala in his study, "When God's People Pray." He jokingly said the hardest part of the wait during any test or trial is the last thirty minutes. We want to give up. We don't see a result and think persistence is futile, but sometimes the response is just one prayer away.

Our finite mind's wait for an answer may seem never-ending, but our infinite God's work has only begun. Tweet this!

So, with my limited understanding of God's thoughts and ways, I continue to look upward. I pray because there have been times when I had no doubt that He had reached down and touched His hand on my life. Sometimes the answer is almost immediate.

About a year after moving to the area where we currently live, I went through a period when I felt extremely alone. We weren't making new friends the way I thought we would. We were trying, but failing, to connect with our community, and I felt incredibly discouraged. I cried out to God one day and asked Him to show me he was there with me, to relieve this feeling of loneliness from my heart.

Within a half hour, I received an unexpected knock at my door. It was my neighbor and friend who I was beginning to know, and she stopping by to drop off some hand me down clothes for my boys. And to give me a hug. Although she'd never hugged me before, that day, when I needed an act of love so badly, she did. Coincidence? I don't think so. God used a neighbor to show me He was there, and all I had to do was ask. 

Since that day, we've found a church home, formed new friendships, and are volunteering in numerous ways in our church and in the community. He has answered me in ways I never imagined. So regardless of whether the answer to my intercessory prayer is minutes away, years away, or in another lifetime, I will continue to call out in the name of Jesus. 

If you're struggling through a difficult time right now and wondering whether God hears your cries for help, know that He does. Keep calling on Him. You could be a prayer away from an answer that will change your life.

Undiluted Joy

Today I'm joining hundreds of other writers to write for five minutes flat about one word. No hyper-editting. No backtracking. Loving and encouraging your fellow writers. Won't you join us over here?


Today's word: joy

GO:

When I was fifteen years old, I met a boy who challenged everything I ever knew about joy. I was on a mission trip to a town living in extreme poverty just south of the Mexico border. This kid who was no more than twelve years old was confined to a wheelchair. Living in a home that was no more than a shack. Dirt floors, no doors or windows, hardly enough shelter to protect his family from the elements.

And he was filled with pure, unadulterated joy. It was contagious. The Light of Christ shined through him so brightly, so potently that you were drawn to him. I wanted to taste this happiness he had that was not dependent on any material thing this earth had to offer.

Joy in it's most tangible, undiluted form has nothing to do with the car we drive, the size of the house we own, or the clothes in our closet and everything to do with a God who made himself flesh and turned our world upside down when he said, "The last shall be first."

And the beautiful thing about this God, my God…the CHRIST is that when we ask for more of Him, he will never disappoint. You want to know the best part? Once he fills us, our focus is not inward, but outward. He will pour until your heart is overflowing, and you will have no choice but to spread the love that is hurting within you to touch every person you meet. 

Just one person. And the ripple effect begins.

STOP.

When You Face Rejection

As I perused the publisher's rejection letter, I felt like I was in middle school gym class all over again, waiting for one of the team captains to call my name. The words "unable to place" and "good luck" stood out in crisp contrast to the white of the page. Although this wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, I felt the need to crawl back into bed even though it was 3:30 in the afternoon.

One of my first writing teachers had prepared me for this. He once told me he'd considered using all of the rejection letters he'd received over the years as wallpaper for his office. His writing space. A twisted sort of motivation to keeping trying, and to submit only his best work.

As much as we try to prepare ourselves for rejection, it always stings. We make ourselves vulnerable, wrapping the essence of ourselves in words and then bravely put them on display for the entire world to see. And sometimes the world simply doesn't have the have the same connection with the words that we do.

We call out to God in prayer, asking him to bless our pursuits while telling ourselves that we really do desire his will and his timing, but when we receive the dreaded answer that we must wait, we hang our heads in despair. We don't like it. We tap our feet with restless uncertainty, trying our best to tame the fire that burns within us. Wondering how we can possibly handle another decline, another "no." But when He finally answers, we realize that his plan far exceeded anything our wildest dreams could've set in motion.

Our culture fervently screams "now is best," but God calls us to yield and rest.

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord. 'Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future.'" Jeremiah 29:11

When Doubt Rears Its Shadow

photo courtesy of lindabutlerphoto.com

What if self doubt didn't have the final say? I wondered as my fingers hovered over the mouse board, dancing with the idea of attending my first writer's conference. My husband and usual sounding board was away on a business trip, so I sat there for ten minutes having an inner monologue. Finally, I took the leap.

I clicked the register button. Phew! It's done. Feelings of excitement mixed with nervousness washed over me, and I rode on the high of that combination until the following weekend.

Immediately after opening my eyes and springing forward into Daylight Savings, the uncertainty seeped in. Did I honestly say that I want to meet with a publisher? I've never written a book proposal before. I have no list of accolades to add to a query or to present at this meeting. I don't have 20k + Twitter followers. Who am I to think these people would choose me out of the hundreds looking for a book deal?

At that moment, I felt like Gideon could have been my brother. God had given me confirmation before. I was brainstorming ideas for a book, had a "light bulb" moment, and prayed asking for validation of the road He wanted me to take. He provided. And here I was asking for further proof. Another push.

My devotion that afternoon led me to these verses from Job 42. "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted." As the tears welled in my eyes, I thanked God yet again for his mercy. His patience with me, even when my faith is as tiny as a mustard seed.

I know my future meeting with a publisher may end with a rejection letter. And quite possibly another may follow. But I also know this: I would rather try and fail than spend my life wondering what could have been possible if I went for it. If I went after that dream.

God placed it deep within my heart so many years ago. It's been molded and etched and pressed upon until I finally realized.

It's all for Him.

Are You Willing?

It's Friday. Where hundreds of writers come together every week over at the lovely Lisa-Jo Baker's blog to spend five minutes writing about one thing. One word. No hyper-editing. No getting in your own way. Just writing, flat out. The most important rule: encourage the writer who linked up before you. Won't you join us?

GO:

The question was starkly clear. I tried to dilute it with conditions. Ifs, ands, buts. However hard I tried to evade giving an answer, I knew it was pointless. Are you willing? I kept hearing the question pulsating over and over in my head. Are you willing to put your trust in Me?

As I thought about all of the times in my past when He was faithful, my confidence grew. I remembered His promises. That it is impossible for Him to fail. Impossible for him to go against his word.

With my entire body trembling, I put one foot over the boat, then the other. Perhaps that was the easy part, because I realized once both feet were on the water that a thousand distractions were begging me to take my eyes off Him. The wind, the waves, the darkness. But the more focused my gaze became, the less my doubts threatened to overtake me. I continued to move forward.

Sometimes the water and the waves overtake me. I divert my eyes for a moment. That's all it takes. But he never lets me stay beneath the surface. With steady hands, he lifts me up. Time and time again.

STOP.

Doing "A New Thing" When You're Proud and Scared

I want to share a little secret with you, my readers. My friends who I receive so much encouragement from day in and day out. I've stated before that one of the main reasons I waited so long to start a blog was fear. And this is painfully true. But it was also pride. You see, I had this notion in my head that blogging was a cliche thing for an aspiring writer to do. That it cheapened it somehow. Because let's face it. Anyone can start a blog. In much the same way photography has become a saturated market, you don't have to have a degree in Journalism or be a college professor or have any list of credentials behind your name to have a website on the big, endless world of social media. It seemed the predictable, stereotypical next step after becoming a stay-at-home mom. And those of you who know me know I loathe stereotypes.

Another deterrent was that I knew if I started a blog, it would not be a typical mom or family blog. Although I love reading friends' posts sharing their kids latest antics and funny stories, I knew that if I wrote something for the internet it would be deeply personal, vulnerable and real. Because I think women have a deep seeded desire, both in mothering and day to day life, to know they are not alone. I wanted it to be a ministry of sorts. And as I stated before, that terrified me.

After resisting what I sensed was God's urging for several months, he spoke to me through a friend who I'd shared some of my writing with. Her advice? Start a blog.

You know what I've discovered? God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble. I am no better than anyone else, but He chose to love me. His plans are bigger than my own. Far exceeding anything I could hope or imagine. And when I bare myself, when I lay out my heart and words for everyone to see, whether it be with scrutiny or judgement or gentleness and kindness, He gives me grace. He opens my eyes to places I never knew existed.

Although this blog is still a baby, in the eight short months since I put my tiny stamp on the internet I've become aware of an entire community I never knew existed. They have loved me without ever having met me or seen me and put aside all sense of entitlement for the sake of support and motivation. Because that's what encouragement does. It abandons all sense of worthiness or self pride for the sake of another living, breathing, God-created soul.

Through this site, my writing has gone places I may never go. I am amazed. It has skipped over continents, time zones and seasons and given an uplifting start to someone else's day. And that, dear readers, is my desire. To shine a little light into someone else's world, whatever they may be going through at that particular time in their life.

In the blogging world, I know I've barely touched the tip of the iceberg. There is so much to learn and so little time at this point in my life to absorb it. But I know that if I entrust it to God's hands, my writing will continue to take me places I've never dreamed possible.

Writing is meant to be shared. Your story is meant to be shared. Never underestimate the power of it.


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

Toward the Light

Darkness. It is a setting which existed even before the formation of the earth. Before there was light to oppose it, to shine into it. Before the two entities were separate, there was only dark. 

It only takes the tiniest bit of light to penetrate the dark. A candle, a flashlight. A kind word or an unexpected smile. But sometimes, we simply cannot see it. Our vision is obscured by negative thoughts, the seemingly futile circumstances surrounding us, and self condemnation. Our glass isn't just half empty. It is bone dry.

For over a year after having my first child by means of an emergency c-section and losing my grandmother the following day, I lived in the dark. Although I'd battled a cycle of depression for most of my life, the events surrounding the birth of my son sent me into a pit so deep I thought I would never clamber out of it. I had a loving husband who treated me with the utmost respect and a beautiful child who was healthy and the most flawless thing I'd ever done, but none of it could permeate the desolation that followed me everywhere. We lived in a gorgeous area of Northern Utah surrounded by majestic mountains and vistas through every window of our home, but I felt as though I was living in a black hole.

Mental illness is not a subject which many people like to discuss. Some people shirk around it, try to make jokes and belittle the matter, and others simply ignore it. But it is real. It affects people in various ways and the symptoms are vast, but a chemical imbalance in the brain is not a condition you can simply snap out of or escape by just trying harder. No amount of busyness could improve my mood, and when caring for a newborn, there is plenty to do. 

At my six week check-up, I told my doctor about my emotional state and was prescribed an anti-depressant. Although I have heard of many success stories from people who take one regularly, it did not work for me. My state of depression progressed to nearly suicidal. I couldn't sleep, I barely wanted to eat, and was dismally attempting to care for an infant in my zombie-like state. 

A year after my six-week check-up I had a regular OBGYN visit and my doctor noticed I was still suffering from PPD. He prescribed another pill, which gave similar results, and at that point I decided to see a therapist. For me, making the decision to talk to someone I didn't know about my emotional and mental state was more scary that taking a medication which altered my brain. I was terrified. There was pain which I had buried so deep for so long that I was convinced that if it was brought to the surface I would crumple right there on the sofa in the patient room. But admitting you need help is not a sign of weakness. It shows strength. A faith in something you may not be able to see just yet.

I would be lying if I said it was easy. There were some fervent tears shed on that couch, but I can honestly say that seeking professional help was one of the first steps I took toward seeing the light again. I was able to cope with issues I kept hidden for most of my adult life and receive objective advice and perspective from someone who was not involved. Other steps forward were finding a supportive group of moms and reaching out to the community around me, becoming involved in our church and serving others. Each of these actions opened my eyes to the big, bright world around me. But the biggest step was surrendering all of my burdens to a God who is greater than my fears, anxiety, or self-loathing. He is a God of peace, love, and mercy.

For several years, I never shared this experience with anyone except for my closest friends and family. Now, I share with anyone who asks. I want people who feel as though the light will forever elude them to know there is hope. Even when you don't see the light, it is still there.

I believe in a God who often uses medication and science to heal, but this method clearly didn't work for me. Sometimes the most difficult step toward healing is admitting you need help. Saying no, I'm not fine, and being okay with that. The worst reaction you can have to depression or mental illness is to ignore it. Restoration begins with admission that there is a problem.

Acknowledging the dark is the first step toward seeing the light.


"'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'” John  8:12

Hope in the Unseen

This past week has been one of the most emotionally draining I've experienced in a while. I wrote in one of my posts from last week that I'd been experiencing an inner turmoil of sorts, like I was waiting for something to happen. And something has. Nothing that I ever would have hoped for or imagined, but the unthinkable. The tragic.

You see, I serve as Co-Coordinator of our local MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group, which is an amazing ministry of women who support and love one another during all of the ups and downs of motherhood. We introduce women who may not know Jesus to a Creator who loves them unconditionally in a non-threatening, neutral environment where many simply need conversation with another adult and time to recharge. Many women who've never stepped foot in church or simply stopped going are drawn to it as a result of MOPS.

Last Friday, I was informed early that morning by our Coordinator that one of my friends and very active members of our group had experienced what I can only comprehend as the worst kind of loss. Her son had died.

I had woken up several times the previous night and unable to fall back asleep, had prayed. Although I didn't know what requests to bring before God or what was making me so restless, I felt the unspeakable need to pray. When I awoke the next morning and checked our MOPS Facebook page, I discovered why. The mom had posted that her son was in the hospital, had coded and was on a ventilator. So again, I came before God, not sure what the status of the situation was. Until about fifteen minutes later.

When I volunteered to become a MOPS leader, I knew that difficult times would arise. It never fails. I began my leadership experience in Utah about a year after giving birth to my first son. But I never dreamed anything like this would happen. My immediate response, which was the repeated sentiment of the leadership team, was that we did not feel equipped to respond. We had no words. We were grief stricken, spent much of the morning in prayer and tears, and any condolences we could offer felt trite and hollow.

As I sought wisdom from the Lord through prayer and spoke with family, our Pastor, and a friend who had also lost a child, I heard the same reply repeated over and over. Be there. That's it. There is nothing you can say that will do much to ease the pain. Just be there. So that's what we did and will continue to do throughout this process.

Over the course of the week, as acquaintances have responded with questions, comments and support, I've experienced emotions ranging from sadness to anger to grief, and I cannot, I will not presume to know what the family is going through. I've been made painfully aware that there is indeed a difference between curiosity and concern, and that while some people will try to mask one as the other, it doesn't take much guessing to see where the heart really is. Concern says, "What can I do to help?" Curiosity says, "What happened? What are all the details?"

One question which we all ask, and one I know the mother has already grappled with, is, "Why?" Why would God allow this to happen? And that I simply cannot answer. My heart feels as though a weight has been placed on top of it, and glimpses of my children running and playing over the past few days remind me how blessed I truly am.

What I do know as that God is good even when life isn't. And although that may sound cliched or simple, if I had faith only when life's circumstances were joyful, well my faith wouldn't really be worthwhile or helpful. If I trust God only when life is easy, where will I go when life is hard? Although I've never experienced loss of this magnitude, I've gone other places when existence is painful. Places that further added to my pain.

Jesus is my hope because nothing else makes any sense when everything crumbles. If I had all the answers, it wouldn't be called faith.

A few days after all of this happended I received my quarterly MOPS magazine. Wow, what a blessing that was. Filled with great articles and encouragement. I was near tears, reading an article entitled, "Don't Lose Heart: The Unseen Truth" when I found just the verse I needed to hold onto in the coming weeks. It has become my mantra.

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18

The only words that have brought any peace to my heart are His words.

Although I cannot see Laken, I know his Heavenly Father sees him. The Creator who made him and loves him with a love so deep and wide I cannot fathom it. Although I don't always see the good in the ashes laying all around me, I trust that the Spirit will bind and mend and heal in a way which only He can.

If there has been a light in the midst of the dark this week, it has been my MOPS group. Any differences have been put aside to focus on what is important, and wow, what is important has become starkly clear. There is an unspoken unity among us. We share the same heart and purpose, and I've been honored to work alongside such a compassionate group of Godly women. 

I know that our entire team is devastated by the events of last week. We grope along, trying to find the best ways to comfort this wonderful mom who has just had her heart broken. Sometimes, we just have to take the next step in faith, even when we don't feel as though we have the equipment. When we don't think we have what it takes. Those are the moments when the Spirit steps in, he takes our hand, and reaches through us.

Toward those who need us the most.

We place our hope in the unseen.

Restless in the Wait

My mom is on a purge cycle that has lasted for the past few, oh I don't know, years? She likes to go through their attic and mail me her findings from my school years. Most of the things she sends me I look at, think, "Why?" and throw in the trash. Moving as much as we have over the past six years does that to you. However, several months ago I made my trip to the mailbox and discovered this little treasure, which I wrote circa 1992.

So I was 13 years old. And apparently unimpressed with the church service which was taking place while I scrawled it out on the back of their bulletin.

I chuckled off and on for the better part of the afternoon after receiving this poem, which my mom had saved all these years.

It made me think about church, faith, and even after decades have passed, the boredom can still seep in if I allow it. My spiritual life can become as dead as the leaves lying under the six inches of snow in our back yard if I am not constantly stimulating that muscle, that need, that ever thirsty, never satisfied taste for living water.

Sometimes I feel as though I'm waiting for that next "big" thing to happen. That next milestone or move or valley or opportunity. I become restless, searching for the next door or window, only to find it isn't there. But the great cost in living this way, in feeling this constant internal turmoil is that I miss the grand moments that are happening right there in front of me. Tiny miracles. A sunrise over a fresh blanket of snow. A new word or phrase from my two-year-old. A question from my oldest son which needs a well thought out answer instead of being brushed off.

Cuddling with my little ones on the couch and chasing them around the play hut as they play hide and seek? That's important. Making sure my son understands his homework? It matters.

Today, after being stuck in the house for the better part of three days between sickness, snow days and school cancellations, we went to Chick-fil-a for lunch. Although it was blistering cold out, the sun was shining the the fresh snow, the sky was a clear blue, and a beautiful day for a drive. On the way home, Jaden requested to ride on the "bumpy road." An unpaved, dirt road which is haphazardly placed between our road and one which runs parallel to ours. My kids love it. So as we're bouncing around, putting all of our SUV's four-wheel drive capability to the test, I let myself soak it the joy of this little fragment.

In this life, we will never fully "arrive." We aren't satisfied because we are eternal beings, our souls ever aching, always hungering for our Father and home is in Heaven. That next "like," next hit, next trip or pair of shoes or event? It will come and pass, but we'll still be craving more. In the same way, as followers of Jesus, our journey to become more like him never ends. There's always another step, another leap, another leg of the race. He is the only One that can truly satisfy, but that the same time we must constantly refill our cup until we reach our everlasting destiny.

There are seasons when we need to act, to move, and moments when we simply need to be still. To listen. To wait. Oh God, do I loathe waiting. Ironically, one of my favorite verses in Scripture is Psalm 46:10, "Be still, and know that I am God." Perhaps because so often I cling to those words, knowing they will quiet my spirit, even if just for a little while.

God, give me the wisdom to know the difference. To not look down at my pedometer and see that I've taken twenty steps when you prompted me to take one. Help me not to become spiritually vapid during the stillness but ever anticipating, ever hungry, ever yearning for You.

As I wait on God, I am comforted by these words from Sidewalk Prophets. I hope for anyone else out there who is feeling restless, they give you peace as well.

"Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." Psalm 27:14

Clearing the Clutter

Replenish me with your living water, O God.

I love the ambiance of the Christmas tree and the quiet glow of the decorations that surround the house during December, but honestly, I also love the way the house feels after I take it all down.  Uncluttered.  Returned to it's normal state. More spacious. Our tree was so dried out from the weeks it tried to survive until Christmas that I practically needed body armor to remove the decorations from it's prickly branches. To me, taking the tree down is symbolic of the New Year: A fresh start, new beginnings, a clean slate.

Although the holidays were filled with amazing memories, lots of extra calories, and trips to see loved ones we don't have the opportunity to visit often enough, they also left me feeling a little drained. When asked by a friend what my husband got me for Christmas, I realized how well he knows me. A 90 minute massage. When I first saw the gift card in my stocking I wondered, "Will I even be able to move after that long?" But maybe not being able to move wouldn't be such a bad thing. I am cashing it in. And soon.

I wrapped up the end of 2013 by completing a Proverbs 31 Ministries online Bible study of A Confident Heart by Renee Swope. During the one of the last chapters of the book, she has her readers complete a personality test, with the goal being to learn more about the person God created you to be and embrace the personality traits He's given you. I'd taken the same test when I was in high school, and I learned that while I have grown spiritually, become more confident, and less introverted, my personality is the same. I am a Phleg-Mel. You can read more about this personality here. In a nutshell, my personality type strives for peace and perfection, which are often at odds with each other.

With these character traits, the holidays can often be a stressful time.  I want to make it to every holiday party so as not to disappoint everyone. I want to find the perfect gifts but stay within our budget. And at the end of it all, I just want to lie down and hibernate for the rest of winter.

One of the important truths I learned from that last Bible study of the year is that "not all good things are God's things." (Renee Swope) While meeting the expectations of everyone who enters my life may feel necessary and important, not only is it impossible, but it's likely not in line with what God wants for my life. My goal? To walk in the Spirit. To respond to His still small voice and pursue the calling God has for my life. Often, that means saying "no" to people I care about so I can focus and doing what God's wants me to do, and doing it well.

Often, I feel as though I'm being pulled in a hundred different directions, and that still voice fades into the distance, drowned out by the noise of the demands of little mouths, the running of the dryer, and the endless annoying dinging of my phone. These responsibilities are important, but my goal, what I strive for, is to always put God first. As I was reminded by a recent devotion, it's ok to tell me five year old that I need a few minutes to read God's word. And how awesome is that for my child to see me making time for Him?

God, as I immerse myself in your Word, I know that I will hear your voice more clearly. You have stated that if I seek your Kingdom first, all these things will be added to me. Things I worry about but should place at the foot of the cross. I pray 2014 will bring me even closer to you. Amen.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34

Is God Enough?

I've walked the road of trying to fill myself with things other than God many, many times.  And every time, I have failed.  Whether it be staying busy, shopping for clothes I didn't need, or having one more drink, nothing sustained me and filled me like the grace and love God poured into my life when I sought Him for the first time.  It is a daily commitment and oftentimes, struggle, to keep Him at the center of my life, but as Paul writes in Galatians, "I have been crucified with Christ so I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."  It is only by the Spirit that I can live the life God has planned for me.  I make the decision to live by the Spirit instead the flesh moment by moment, day by day.  And when I fail, He is there to pick me up again when I return to his loving arms.  Although in this life we only catch little glimpse of his glory in comparison to what awaits us in Heaven, it is in those moments when I sense his presence and know I've done his will that I feel most complete.

Only Jesus, the name that is above all names and by which every knee shall bow, is enough. He is sufficient to cover my sin, to pay the the debt which I never could.  "For if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!" (Gal. 2:21)  Even though there are times I try to perform, behave, or meet some arbitrary standard of worthiness, I always find myself at the foot of the cross, the only place where I am righteous in the sight of God.

I believe many women spend their lives searching for that special friend or soul mate who truly "gets us." Who understands our little quirks and nuances.  Who doesn't get angry when we fall short because they understand we are only doing our best.  I spent much of my life trying to find that person as well.  But the truth is, God is in the only one in this universe, or any universe, who truly understands the depths of our being.  He made us and knows things about each one of us that we don't even grasp ourselves.  As in says in Psalm 139:1, "Oh Lord, you have searched me and you know me."  

Searched me.  Wow.  I don't know about you, but that statement blows my mind.  When I look up the word search in the dictionary some of the definitions which are listed are, "to examine thoroughly in order to find something," and some synonyms are "look through, forage for, seek, leave no stone unturned."  Is there anyone one this earth you can say has searched you?  My guess would be no.

I'm eternally grateful that I have a God who knows every aspect of me and my personality, yet loves me anyway, to walk through this life with me.  We will not leave this journey here on earth without battle wounds, some of us more than others.  But God's endless love and provision is enough to get us through to the finish line.  One of my favorite books in the Bible is Philippians, and it remind us that, "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6)  When I remember this promise, I am filled with peace in the midst of the storm.

Why Worry?

Sometimes I imagine myself physically tossing my worries and 

anxiety into the ocean, to be swept away to a distant land.

Earlier this week I was practicing an act I've been prompted toward by some spiritual leaders in my life.  I was praying God's word and speaking his promises out loud.  This action is also mentioned in the opening chapters of a Bible study I've been doing, A Confident Heart by Renee Swope. I spent weeks resisting the idea because I felt silly walking around my house talking, seemingly, to myself, but the more I engaged myself the more I realized what I'd heard and read was true.  I wasn't distracted.  My mind wandered less frequently.  I felt conviction in what I was praying.

One of the verses I prayed during my time alone with God was Philippians 4:6, which gives a prescription for worry and anxiety.  Instead of feeling anxious, we are to trust God. We present our requests to Him.  We surrender our circumstances to Him and thank Him continually.  Then the peace of God will fill our hearts and minds, and we will be free.  Although the instructions are fairly simple and straightforward, often the practice of them is not as easy.  Or so I discovered as the day progressed.

I sat down later and began studying chapter nine of A Confident Heart, which is entitled, "When Doubt Whispers, 'I Can't Stop Worrying'" and was just finishing up a blog post when my Dad called.  He started the conversation with our normal small talk and then blurted out that my mom was in the hospital with symptoms of what she thought was a minor stoke.  The only word I heard in the entire summary was the word "stroke."  My independent, stubborn, seemingly healthy mom.  My mom who hasn't spent a day in a hospital since the birth of her children.  I tried to mask my nervousness by asking tons of questions.  Questions which he didn't have the answers to.  Tests and more tests were needed.  The ones they'd already conducted were inconclusive.  By the end of the phone call I realized that I could only do one thing.  Wait.

Like most people, I do not like waiting.  My parents live over five hundred miles away so my natural instinct, which was to jump in the car and race to the hospital, was not feasible.  My five-year-old was still in school, my youngest was napping, and after I called my husband and relayed the news, I was left alone in a quiet house with my thoughts.  Thoughts which, unless they are focused and filled prayer and God's Word, can become very dark and negative in those types of situations.

I believe that when I prayed from Philippians and read the chapter about worry that morning, God was preparing my heart and mind for the coming news.  As I waited for more information and test results I recited that verse again and again, focusing on the words and trusting that God would protect my mom.  I thanked him for all the blessings in my life.  As I focused on everything I had to be thankful for, the dark thoughts became less overwhelming.

My mom is being released from the hospital today, and although she will have to undergo physical therapy to regain function of her right arm and hand, which were affected, her spirits are high and her brain alert.  I am amazed not only by her strength and determination, but by God's provision and the many people who prayed, visited, and called.  She was surrounded by people who loved and supported her both near and far away.

Being given a stark reminder of your parent's mortality is heart wrenching.  As a child, you want to protect them from harm in the same way they watched over you as you were growing and return the act of love they communicated throughout life.  But when circumstances spin beyond control, you can turn inward or reach outward.  Toward the God who is sovereign and holds the whole world in the palm of his hand, toward friends and family who love you and love the people who mean the most.

As I look back on the past few days, I am amazed to see God's hand and how he cared for each of us.


"You go before me and follow me.  You place your hand of blessing on my head." Psalm 139:5 NLT

I Am Not

Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study Renee Swope's book, A Confident Heart.This is an online Bible study which will take place over the next five weeks.

For today's topic I chose an experience where I felt like a failure and responded with a resounding #IAmNot.



I am a far better writer than speaker. I once heard a preacher quote the statistic that on average,  people are more afraid of public speaking than they are of death and I believe that 100%. However, a week ago felt God pushing me to share some of my testimony with my MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) group, and since I was very inspired by this online Bible study, I volunteered to do so.

I serve as Co-Coordinator on our MOPS Steering team this year, and our theme for the year is called A Beautiful Mess: Embrace Your Story. My testimony, along with the short devotion and verses I planned to share, would be the perfect opportunity to highlight our theme.

After days of rehearsing what I was going to say in my head and preparing an outline of the points I wanted to share, I believed I was somewhat ready. Or, as ready as I would ever be. My story contained several experiences which are extremely personal to me, which I'd only shared with a handful of people until that point, but I knew there were women in that room who needed to know they were not alone.

Until that day I never realized how much more difficult it is to stand in front of a large group and share your heart, to reveal things  which are deep and caused you pain, than it is to simply make announcements and talk about everyday matters. I was shaking like a leaf. It was painfully obvious that I was nervous. When I sat down after five minutes, I needed to throw up. I was sure that half of what I'd said didn't make sense.

I felt like a failure. Why did I think I could do this? I wasn't a speaker.

About ten minutes after I floundered through my speech, a fellow mom approached me. She told me how much she could relate to my words. She said how we shared similar experiences. She told me she was grateful  I shared.

I sensed God's still small voice saying to me, "If what you said spoke to even one woman, you have accomplished what I sent you to do." I knew somehow, despite my nerves, despite my mouth becoming unhumanly dry a minute into my testimony, He had spoken through me. I couldn't have done it on my own.

Although I don't have the burning desire to speak in public again any time soon, I know that I did not fail. Do I have room for improvement in the public speaking realm? Absolutely. But I am not a failure. That I am not.

Unpacking John 1:12

Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study A Confident Heart by Renee Swope.  This is an online Bible Study which will be taking place over the next six weeks.

For this week's  topic I am unpacking John 1:12. In other words, taking a closer look at this verse and telling you what it's meant to me.

Although I've steered away from the verse mapping so far during this study, I couldn't resist the urge to unpack this verse because the book of John has meant so much to me since becoming a follower of Jesus in 2009. John 1 is, to me, one of the most powerful passages in scripture.

It's important before we look at the actual verse to keep in mind what John is trying to accomplish in writing this Gospel. Each book of the Gospel had a specific purpose, and John's was no different. Others were to show Jesus was Messiah, Savior, and King. John's was to show Jesus is God.

In the verses leading up to John 1:12 the author is establishing the fact that Jesus was both fully human and fully God, and He always has been, even before the foundation of the earth. He is the eternal source of all light and truth.

In verse 12 we read, "Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God."

The following words stood out to me while reading and meditating on this scripture:

All:  every, any. Jesus is not just for the Jew but for the Gentile also. For everyone who accepts Him. Just as Adam and Eve were given the choice of whether to obey God or go their own way, we are given free will. The Holy Spirit will pull at our hearts, but the decision is ours.

Received:  accepted, to take into one's possession, as in gifts. The freedom and life we have in Jesus is a gift. We do not have to work for it or earn it.

Name:  identity, designation. Accepting Jesus also means believing in who he is. He is the Son of God, the only way to eternal life.

Children:  son, daughter, family. When I become born of God I am a new creation. I have been spiritually reborn. Although I will still have fleshly desires and temptations, because of the Spirit in me, I no longer am a slave to them. 

When I let these words and their meaning resonate in my heart, I am overwhelmed by the grace and beauty of the simple message. God left his Heavenly home, his Father and all the unfathomable glories in his grasp to be a mere human and die for me, a sinner. All I had to do is receive the free gift extended to me to have freedom from the power death had over me. I am eternally grateful and will forever praise His Name, the Name above all names.

Moving Past Mom-Fail Moments

Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study A Confident Heart by Renee Swope.  This is an online Bible Study which will be taking place over the next seven weeks.

The topic I chose for this post is a #movingforward story.

This week I had one of those epic mom fail moments.  You see, for those of you who don't know me, I am a stay-at-home mom.  My oldest is five and started kindergarten this year.  I honestly never thought kindergarten could make a mom feel so unorganized and inadequate. When I was his age (yes, I said it), I spent a total of three hours at school and took a nap there.  My son is there a full day, has no nap, and comes home with homework and a folder full of flyers, papers for parents to sign and return, and announcements every day.  But I digress.

So on Wednesday I had one of those moments when all I wanted to do was find a hole to crawl into and bury my head.  I feel as though I've been in a fog the past few weeks and it finally culminated a couple of days ago when I was given a not-so-subtle alarm to snap out of it.

My haze started in mid October when our family faced financial difficulties as a result of the government shut down.  Later that week a long distance phone call to my parents revealed that my brother, who suffers from drug addiction, had been arrested.  A couple of days later our furnace stopped working, leaving me stressed about our already shrinking bank account.

In the midst of my haze, I somehow forgot that my son got out of school three hours early on Wednesday.  There was no flyer sent home and as a mom of a high maintenance two-year-old who relies heavily on reminders of dates and changes in schedules, I was out of the loop. So that afternoon I heard someone banging on our front door while my youngest was napping.  Of course, my first response was annoyance because I didn't want them to wake my son.

Imagine my surprise when I look out the window and see my kindergartner standing there with my neighbor and her two boys.  My neighbor with the perfectly manicured yard, who is head of the PTA and highly involved in the day to day activities of the school.  My neighbor who was kind enough to walk my son home from school when his oblivious mom forgot.

I thanked her repeatedly and my son, fortunately, could've cared less who walked him home.  So did I move on?  No.  I spent the next couple of days worrying.  Far too little time rejoicing in the fact that my son was safe, and too much time wrapped in my insecurity over what others would think.  I would be know as that mom.  The scatter-brained mom.

I am so grateful for Chapter 5 of A Confident Heart because Renee reminded me that what others think about me is ultimately unimportant.  What God thinks of me, however, is endlessly important.  And to God, I am a masterpiece, created in Christ Jesus to do good works.  Yes, I will fail.  I will make mistakes.  But if I learn from them and confess my sins before God, He is just and faithful to forgive, to give me a clean slate and remember my sins and mistakes no more.  Thank you, Jesus.

As I move forward, I find so much freedom in praying and speaking God's promises aloud. I will continue to meditate on them each day.  Speaking aloud gives my mind less room to be distracted.  I spend far to much time feeling anxious about the opinion of others, and must move out of the shadow of insecurity and into the light of my Savior.  He is the God of second chances.  A God whose love is perfect even when I am not.  I will stop looking in the rearview mirror, dwelling on my past failures, and look to my bright and shining future.  A future declared by My Father to have purpose and meaning.  A plan to prosper and not to harm.

A Path to Surrender

Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study A Confident Heart by Renee Swope.  This is an online Bible Study which will be taking place over the next eight weeks.

This post's topic is the point when I fully surrendered my life to Christ. Renee talks about this experience in her own life throughout chapter 3 of her book.

Reading Renee's story, I found so many similarities between the two of us.  I spent much of my life looking to things other than a life surrendered to Christ to fill me and fulfill me.  Sex, drugs, alcohol, you name it.  I dated many different boys throughout high school and college, thinking that if I found the right relationship, I would be content.

Although I grew up in the church, I never fully understood that having a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ also meant trusting him with my heart, relinquishing control, and having faith that his will for my life is always the best path. I left the church as a teenager because of anger toward God… anger because of the abuse that a dear friend had experienced at the hands of my childhood pastor, anger because of the drug addition my brother was, and still is, under the shadow of, anger at my parents for being enablers instead of enforcing consequences, anger at myself for never fitting into the cliques at youth group and school.

So I ran… I ran far away from God and tried to immerse myself into the college life, which for me mostly meant parties and boys. And drugs. Lots of alcohol. Some studying here and there.

One of the first major turning points in my life came when I met my husband. He reached his time of surrender a year before meeting me, and after going on only a few dates, I could picture myself marrying him. He was unlike any person I'd ever met. We married after about three years together and throughout that time I could feel God pursuing me. I began going to church every now and then. I sent up a prayer here and there. But I still wasn't ready. I was trying to behave, to stay clean, to live a life I felt was worthy. Of what? I don't know. I just didn't get it. I couldn't grasp what I was missing.

There were two major events which catapulted me into the realization that I needed God in the deepest way. That I would seek Him and find Him when I searched with all my heart. 

The first was a cross-country move to Utah. I had lived in the same place, Columbia, South Carolina, my entire life. Utah is very different culturally than the "Bible Belt" of the south. The second was the birth of my son, which coincided with the death of my grandmother, and sent me into a long battle with postpartum depression.

Anti-depressants left me feeling worse and unable to sleep in my already zombie-like state. Exercise helped my mood but couldn't fill the void in my life.

God continued his pursuit of me. A series of messages entitled "God is Bigger…" at the church we'd been attending really resonated in my heart. A friend and follower of Jesus reached out. She didn't look like the typical "Christian" that I'd stereotyped them to be. I finally admitted I needed help with my depression and began seeing a Christian therapist. 

I was sitting on the living room coach of our home in Utah, after putting our son to bed, reading "The Purpose Driven Life" with my husband when I made the decision to follow Jesus with everything that I had…heart, soul and mind. To live a life surrendered. It was time. There was a chapter where he extended an invitation and I took it. 

I made the choice to leave my life of ruins and come to the living water which never runs dry.

I remember the first chapter of that book hitting me like a freight train.  "It's Not About You." Wow. How convicting. How liberating. How freeing to not have to think about myself so much. To get over my own neurosis. To realize that I have a purpose that has nothing to do with my self-loathing and everything to do with glorifying the God of the Universe. A God who loves me and cares for me so much He sent his son to die in my place.

Since that day on November 10, 2009, I've realized that God is sovereign even when I don't understand my circumstances. That despite my control-freak tendencies, my life is in his hands and there is freedom found in knowing He's at the wheel. He is a big God who will reveal Himself to me when I earnestly seek Him.

It is a day by day process. There are so many distractions begging to divert my attention from the One who gives me peace. But I'm learning. Each step. Each leg of the race. I will keep my eyes on Him. I will let him mold me to become the woman He made to be.

At the Well

Today I am participating in Proverbs 31 Ministries' blog hop as we study A Confident Heart by Renee Swope.  This is an online Bible Study which will be taking place over the next nine weeks.  

For today's blog hop topic I read chapter 2 of Renee's book and looked at the story of the Samaritan woman at the well in John chapter 4.  As I read the story, our study leader Melissa Taylor challenged us to ask God to meet us in the story, see if there are areas of our hearts that need repair, and identify similarities between our story and the Samaritan woman's.

image courtesy of wikimedia.org

The story of the Samaritan woman in John chapter 4 touches me on so many levels.  From the way Jesus gets straight to the heart of the matter to the way he seeks out this woman who had probably been rejected by her community for years.  I love how Renee Swope points out in her book A Confident Heart that while most Jews simply traveled around Samaria to avoid having anything to do with this loathed people, Jesus was very intentional about going through Samaria.  He knew his Father had work for him to do there. 

I can identify with the woman at the well because like her, I often try to avoid the issues which most deeply affect my heart.  As Renee talks about in chapter 2, I often would rather tell people I'm "fine" than delve into the problems of my life, fearing that the burden would be too heavy for most or that I will push people away.  Other times, I feel as though my troubles are trivial in comparison to what's going on in someone else's life.  I begin thinking about those living in third world countries who struggle to provide food and clean water to their families, and wonder why I can't seem to handle all the resources and blessings God has given me in a responsible way.

I believe the Samaritan woman deeply desired just to be seen.  To be loved for who she was.  She was with her fifth man, a man who didn't even want to commit to being her husband.  Often, I struggle with the desire to be seen also, and lately, what I feel God pressing repeatedly onto my heart is "I see you."  I believe it's a lifelong lesson but it's one I've really been in the trenches of lately.

Being a stay-at-home mom is often a thankless job.  I love my children with all of my heart and I do not question my decision to devote my time to them, but often I just want more of…something.  I started blogging about four months ago because although I've been writing since a very young age, I felt as though God was pushing me to share my writing with others.  Often, when I look at my statistics, I wonder why I continue.  And then I hear God gently saying again, "Keep going.  I see you.  I will complete the work I started in you."

My dream is become a published writer for Women's Ministry.  I believe this is a God-given dream that he has placed in my heart, and that He will see it to fruition.  But like so many women, I often doubt myself.  I am hoping through this study, I will replace my doubts with confidence.  I know that God's timing is always perfect, but as humans we often want to just get to the finish line, get the next item checked off our list, and see instant results.  But this boxed way of thinking is not how an infinite God operates.

God, help me to see that your plans are always better than my own.  You cause all things to work for good for those who love you.  I love you so much, God, and although I often feel weak, because your power is made perfect through my weakness, I am strong.  Thank you so much for this promise.  In Jesus name, Amen.

Welcome the Silence

The beach...one of my favorite places to enjoy silence. Just the waves and the breeze.

This tired mama has been sick for the past five days with some sort of viral infection which ended with laryngitis. So, for the past two days I've been unable to speak except for in a whisper or short, raspy spurts.  Somehow I've managed to escape this diagnosis my entire life, but my husband gets it every year.  He's been empathetic and gave me an interesting piece of advice: Enjoy the silence. (Mine, obviously, not my boys) Use the time to think.  Our mouths get us into trouble way too often.

At first, I became a little defensive because as a stay-at-home mom and somewhat introverted personality type, I do a lot of thinking already.  I've always been better at expressing myself in written form rather than verbally.  However, after giving what he said some time to sink into my exhausted brain, I realized he had a point.

It's something that God has been pressing on my heart more and more.  How every time we speak, we have the opportunity to give grace, to be a light in someone's dark place, to encourage and bring hope.  All to often, we instead use our mouths to complain, speak words of anger, slander others, and stampede over other's dreams. 

I want to be the grace giver.  And I'm trying.  Little by little. Step by step.  Do I fail?  Yes, all the time.  But I get up and try again.  Sometimes I beat myself up a little but I keep going and make every effort to keep my eyes on what's ahead instead of what's in the rearview mirror. 

I know there will be days when I simply need to vent. To find a person I trust and unload, to share my troubles and sometimes just empty into a listening ear rather than find a solution. But I pray that even on those days, I can reflect the peace and assurance I have in Jesus in the process.

Confidence is a trait I've struggled to embrace my entire life.  I've come a long way in the past five years, and that is mainly due to my relationship with God through Christ and seeing myself as He sees me.  But it's also because He gave me a supportive, incredibly loving husband, who builds me up and tells me I can when my natural tendency is self-doubt.

I want my children to believe in themselves.  More than that, I want them to know they are God's masterpiece.  On a couple of recent occasions I've heard people say that the voice we use with our children becomes their inner voice.  If we are constantly yelling, using exasperated tones, or telling them they can't do something, the voice in their heads will reflect constant defeat.  I don't know about you, but that is not what I want for my kids.  

I have the choice.  God help me, but I can decide.  

Being sick has forced me to choose my words more sparingly because of the effort it takes to speak.  Perhaps this is a practice I could use more often?

God, guide me.  Let me show others the grace you have shown me.  Give me your eyes to see them the way you do.  May the words of my lips honor you and reflect you love.  Amen.

"…Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry,"  James 1:19

When Your Patience is Tested

My inquisitive five-year-old. He has his Daddy's engineering brain.

We had family photos taken the other day.  The shoot was on a farm out in the middle of nowhere, and although the scenery was beautiful and the weather was perfect, I found myself trying very hard not to get lost on the way there.  My husband works relatively close to the studio, so I drove separately with my five-year-old and twenty-two-month-old boys. After spending an hour getting them dressed and ready and trying to keep them from ruining their outfits, we climbed into the car.

 As soon as we pulled out of the driveway, the questions spilled out of the mouth of my oldest.  I also noticed the car was on E.

Where are we going? Why? Why are you slowing down? Why are you stopping here? What's the car in front of us doing? Where's Dadda? Did he take the blue car?

I wondered why I hadn't turned on the DVD player. Oh yes, because we created that rule. No DVD player for trips less than an hour. Why did we create that rule again?

The questions continued.  At the first twenty or so, I answer with calm.  Around question forty  I am losing my patience. 

Patience. It's a word I've thought a lot about lately. A characteristic I strongly desire to be present as I raise my children. Because not only is it vital if I'm not going to lose my ever-loving mind, but it goes hand in hand with love.

Cocking my head and yelling at him to be quiet, well, that's not love. Have I done it? Absolutely. Did I regret it? Yes.  Have I lost my temper? Yes, all to often.

I've heard several women in my life say that they never ask God to give them patience because they know the result will be a trial which tests this virtue. In other words, patience must be learned. And I agree that it is like a muscle which must be stretched and exercised in order to grow. Especially in circumstances when we are waiting on God. For an answer to prayer. For something in our life to change.

But in that moment, I didn't have time to learn a character building lesson.  I had time to mutter two words, "Jesus. Help."

I turned my head slightly and told my inquisitive boy, with as much serenity as I could muster, that I was trying to find my way to a place we'd never been and needed to concentrate. I told him to enjoy the drive and listen to the music.

To my complete amazement, he did what I asked. He was quiet for the remainder of the trip.

Now, will this always happen? I'm sure it won't. But can I call on the name of Jesus to give me the stillness I need? You bet I can.

Galatians 5:22 tells us that patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit.  Another words, a supernatural ability.  One that goes contrary to my flesh.  When we receive Christ and are given the Holy Spirit, this seed is planted.  Others include joy, peace, kindness and gentleness. The more I abide in him, the more these traits will grow and become evident.

In raising kids, there are times when I need the power of the Spirit right them and there. Sometimes, He simply tells me to step away for a moment if I am able. I know that a minute in the next room will not give my boys time to kill each other.

Other times, stepping away is not an option.  And while I know my patience will be tested and grown as I continue my walk with Him, I'm so glad I can call on his name in those moments when my exasperation is at its peak.


"....But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it." 1 Corinthians 10:13