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Finding Light in Everyday Moments

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She teaches me daily. Since day 1, she has been our sunshine-seeker. She has always quietly embraced transition with an ease I sometimes envy. And she loves wholeheartedly. I remember one blustery winter morning in VT. These were the kinds of mornings when all you really wanted was a day in bed. You woke up with frigid fingers and toes, even beneath a bundle of blankets, and the responsibilities of the day squashed any attempt to burrow. I was barely waking up to this sensation when her tiny frame wandered into my bedroom.

“I can’t find it, mama”, this little voice beckoned to my sleepily. There was an urgency in her tone despite the drowsy hour. After a series of questions and–eventually–my departure from the pursuit of warmth, I realized that she was searching for the sun. It was a cold day in every sense of the word, and the sunshine—her favorite friend—was hiding behind snow clouds. She was devastated. Little fingers fumbled over my curtains as she desperately tried to roll them higher because “maybe he’s just hiding”. But he did not [and would not] emerge for quite some time. Her faith that the sunshine would appear still, never waned.

This is how she has always been. She’s my encourager when she senses spirits are low, a peacemaker when there is familial tension, and a hugger when the need arises(and sometimes even when the need isn’t fully realized to everyone else).

In her bitty years, this looked like sun-searching and big, wet kisses. And now in this season, it’s deeper. She gives everything in everything–the way she loves, friendship, a task, habits…everything. Sometimes this means that something with which she’s become so familiar(like sucking her thumb) is harder to break. But even then, her optimism doesn’t fade. She’s bright, cheerful and fighting to believe the best.

Recently, I’ve seen glimmers of spiritual depth. She has always been my caring, compassionate one. Often quick to step in with a hopeful solution or comment, she believes wholeheartedly. And I’m thankful I get to watch that develop as she grows. I can mark this by several new data points:

A few months ago, we attended the funeral of a precious friend. This was her first, and she wondered aloud what was to be expected and what behavior might be appropriate. We talked at length, and when we were finally there, I was blown away. In the flurry of my own responsibilities, seeking to interact with others, cleaning when needed, leading singing, etc, I hadn’t heard how the day was going for my children. Later, I was approached by the daughter of our recently deceased friend who shared that speaking with our daughter was a needed balm; a highlight of the day. When I shared the story at home, she remarked that she “just walked around talking to people”.

“I went up to folks and said, ‘hi’. My name is _____. What’s yours?”

A few nights ago, I took two of my daughters to the theatre. We learned that the main character was struggling vocally, and so we prayed. Afterward, when he was standing alone as other cast members were shining with excitement, my sunshine-seeker walked up to him alongside a friend and made a point to tell him, “you did a great job”.

And finally, today. You somehow learned that we have new neighbors with a little girl about your age, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when she rang our doorbell asking for you. All afternoon you played only to wander back inside a after a little while. You were–again–searching. When I inquired, you mentioned a Bible, because “I want to tell her the Easter story”.

My darling girl, your courage to look for the light has always taken my breath away. It is foreign to me—your relentless tenacity towards hope. I pray that the Father uses this to protect and preserve you, no matter what the season. You shine so brightly, and I cannot wait to watch how God continues to work.

God’s Faithfulness in Marriage: 12 Years of Electing Love

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A few Sundays ago, we celebrated 12 years of marriage. 13 years together, but 12 of sharing life–homes, cars, jobs, children. My husband very eloquently surmised this as a milestone because, “We completed 12 years of grade school, so it’s like we’re graduating”. 🙂 How romantic!

In many ways, it was just another ordinary day. It was Sunday–the busiest for our family. Full of meetings, singing, interactions with the community God has provided here in Maine. On this day, like every other Sunday, we were awakened early by the sound of our littlest. This is a hallmark of the day for us both. Like always, everyone ended up in our queen-sized bed(which seems to be shrinking!) and I eventually slipped out to begin the day’s routine. Coffee(or tea, if you’re me), breakfast, and hurried preparation for Sunday worship. In the midst of the morning’s rush our eldest sneaked into the kitchen and whispered, Happy Anniversary, Mama. You know, my favorite part of August is watching your video. Tearfully, I hugged this one who has recently become one of our most sentimental children and tried to recall when we started what has become tradition.

It must have started back in our first year–before anyone else came along. My own Mama, knowing how bittersweet moving away from my beloved Southern roots had been, sent a big box of green peanuts. All the way from Georgia! This was(for those who may not know) for the purpose of creating one of our favorite snacks–boiled peanuts. I remember sitting back on our porch in San Diego waiting as the smell of salty water sifted through our first[tiny] real home. When they were finally finished, we relished the treat while while watching our wedding footage. It was a sweet memory for us, and is somehow now a tradition embroidered in the fabric of our family. We must have had several pounds this year, but the peanuts were gone within just a few days!

As I reflected on the day–complete with a celebratory meal, homemade cards from the kids and(of course) our special viewing party–I would not have changed anything. If you would have told me 12 years ago that we’d be here–far up in the Northeast(having survived almost 10 years of NE winters!) with four precious children[and a dog]in tow, multiple moves and jobs behind us, I may not have believed it. The sweetest part(besides the gift of the little tribe of souls we’ve been given) for me has been the growth. I realized Sunday–as I was called out of a service to change our youngest–where my husband was preaching as the pastor of our church[this was a particular highlight of the day!]– I never would have dreamed we’d be here. Not even just our geographic “here”, but all of it.

In our anniversary card, Tyler wrote the passage he has prayed over our marriage from the beginning–

 I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear me forever, for their own good and the good of their children after them. 40 I will make with them an everlasting covenant, that I will not turn away from doing good to them. And I will put the fear of me in their hearts, that they may not turn from me. 41 I will rejoice in doing them good, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul. Jeremiah 32:39-41

It is by God’s faithfulness that this is our here. That passage in particular is speaking of God’s chosen people facing an impending judgment through exile. This was because of their own foolishness in pursuit of something that would never satisfy. They were overthrown by outside forces and obstinate; refusing the Lord’s laws and commands(which were for their very good). But the Lord promises restoration. Even amidst the pronouncement of a sure and coming judgment, the Lord repeatedly promises mercy. He assures the people through this very vulnerable prophet [Jeremiah] that peace will come.

As I considered this, I was struck by the many times we’ve failed–in marriage, life choices, parenting, etc. But God is always faithful. In His kindness, He has carefully and tenderly preserved our lives over these last 12 years. And we have nothing on which to stand except His very character. It has not been through any merit of our own, or even any of our most meager efforts. It is all by the sovereign hand of His might and will. This is exactly what the passage speaks of–the Israelites were not chosen because any good existed within them. In fact, it was the exact opposite. They had rebelled wickedly and decidedly. But they were chosen. And God–in His divine affection-promised to: focus their hearts to fear Him, produce a harvest of righteousness for generations, to love them covenantally, and to continue doing them good[forever], that they would be rooted in faithfulness.

I had always read that as–the Lord will make his people faithful. And I don’t think that is entirely wrong. But there was a little whisper of human merit in that belief. It now seems to me that it is only always the faithfulness of God in which we are rooted. He continually pursues, provides and protects–keeping us ever in step with His Spirit(Deut. 31:8, Psalm 145:20).

And so, as we sat there rejoicing over the last 12 years, I couldn’t feel anything but weepy. Because I fail miserably more often than not. I am impatient, selfish and grumpy[particularly in the evenings]. I am a melancholy, overly-sensitive and critical jerk sometimes, but the God of the Universe chose me. I couldn’t tell you why, honestly.Except for the merciful doctrine of election. And as we stumble along together for many, many, many[I pray!] more decades together I am grateful to cling[however feebly] to his “mighty and outstretched arm” (Deut. 26:8).

Soli Deo Gloria

God from the beginning chose His people; when the unnavigated ether was yet unfanned by the wing of a single angel, when space was shoreless, or else unborn, when universal silence reigned, and not a voice or whisper shocked the solemnity of silence, when there was no being, and no motion, no time, and naught but God Himself, alone in His eternity. Charles Spurgeon

They Went to the Beach.

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Back in October, my extended family left for our annual family vacation. This is a trip in which I have not participated for the last 8ish years, and somehow–that week–not being there felt different. In some ways I felt the same familiar ache of living so far away, but in others there was a decided resolve in it. A resolve that [despite my deepest heart yearnings to be with those who loved me first] I would not wallow, but would instead choose to be present.

I realize that this may sound trite or over-popularized. One night during that week, I was invited into several different scenarios and thus felt torn in many directions. But there was[for reasons I can’t explain] an echo of that same longing I knew too well and had battled continually. I wanted nearness. I wanted familial intimacy. I wanted to remember the warmth of being known and loved, no matter what. I desperately wanted to be in multiple places, but I knew that they needed me. They being my precious ones. Daddy was out of town, and I sensed this rare opportunity to just be with them.

Also during that beach week—while my family was far away, I felt the pressure of being home–the constant need to be doing dishes, laundry, cooking meals…not to mention investing emotionally, spiritually and physically in the lives of my little tribe[including nurturing littles who need thoughtful, biblical redirection hourly…sometimes moment-by-moment!]…Some days I do feel weary…and often over-stimulated to a sinful point. But I set apart this day–amidst my own personal weariness–to cherish them.

So we went to the movies. Since there are 6 members of our family, this is a rare occurrence. At home in our daily mundane, I saw my own familiar ache in their little eyes and heard it in countless moments of frustration. Getting out of the house just made sense. So we did it. We journeyed over an hour’s length to see a special movie unavailable in our area, and enjoyed popcorn and candy while lounging in reclining movie seats[a luxury in and of itself]. It was loud and a little chaotic, but joyfully so. My littlest bounced up and down in the seat and eventually landed in my arms, my son grinned from ear to ear providing colorful commentary(which worked better since few others were seated among us) and my big girls beamed. Afterwards we indulged in Chik-fil-a[a personal favorite, though not all of my babes share my enthusiasm].

There was something sacred in it, I think. Not in the movie or the fried chicken. But in the prompt to seize the hours. Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t concern myself with chores or the daily to-do list. I didn’t worry about what wasn’t accomplished or our present messiness.  I just enjoyed them. We just enjoyed each other, in fact.

This was a needed reminder to me of Zephaniah’s words in chapter 3:

The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

Although these words were written to the people of Judah, the beauty of the Word is it’s accuracy, relevance and reliability. The Lord’s authoritative voice is just as true and definitive as it was then.

In the busyness of motherhood, I often forget to delight. But the Lord–in His holy perfection–does not. Somehow He simultaneously upholds and rules while also harboring an intimate knowledge of his beloved. And so–in the same vein that He is both concerned and connected with all of my needs, longings and shortcoming–He is also just enjoying me. What’s more, he is singing[some versions add loudly] over me!

These precious ones are growing so quickly. And this day back in October was ordinary–like most of my days–but the Lord used those mundane moments to bring me[yet again] to recall His goodness and the personal call to reflect upon the sweetness in watching how He redeems ordinary.

| S E R V A N T |

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I haven’t said much about our time in Maine here because these last two weeks have been busy! Our days are filled with unpacking, picnic playdates at the park, exploring our neighborhood, etc. Of course my sweet littles are processing still—which sometimes looks like bickering, outbursts of tears, silly moods, needing more “mommy time” or anything in between. We have tried to shepherd their hearts tenderly(with the help of so many precious new friends and MUCH prayer) but some days I’m tired!

This last week a new friend recommended “couch time” every morning. It’s where we sing, read(about cultures, poets, authors), recite and learn. It is simply a time to sit together in stillness and absorb before we dive into the chaos of the day.

This past week we’ve discussed Philippians 2 and the idea of serving like Jesus. We’ve made a game of yelling, “servant alert” every time we see(which delights our littles to no end)!

Today—when my middle girl and I had to miss corporate worship because our sweet boy has a cold, we were disappointed. I was here at the house with three under 4 who sorrowfully watched their big sis walk to the church(which is right across our backyard) with tearful eyes.

Throughout the morning I took the opportunity to catch up on housework. It’s sometimes easier for me to busy myself if I’m feeling particularly down. I tried hard to keep things lighthearted in the midst of missing fellowship. But my middle must’ve known, because she stayed in her room boasting of “surprises” and “don’t come in, Mommy”! I figured maybe she was creating a new look with her dress-up clothes ☺️

But…

as she led me to her room—eyes bright and shimmering— I couldn’t believe what I saw. We stood there together as she whispered, “I cleaned it, Mama”.
And no, it’s not perfect. But it’s her best. As I verbally took in every detail, she beamed.

Mamas, the Lord knows our hearts. He knows our deepest needs and desires. In the weary moments when I’m wondering if any effort I make will bear fruit, the Lord graciously bears me up with the promise that nothing done in His name is in vain.

1 Thessalonians 15:58

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This Present Darkness

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There is a point during winter at which everything[for me, at least] feels heavy. The seeming permanence of the season weighs me down as the snow[though beautiful] continues to fall with no promise–or even glimpse–of any sign of Spring. Life in rural Vermont promises nothing less though, and I do at least appreciate its direct–though sometimes painfully blunt–nature. This is something I’ve grown to love during our time here–the consistency and resilience of the culture seeps into your soul before you have time to do anything but appreciate it.

And yet…

The days are long, cold and sometimes very[and quite literally] gray. This proves especially difficult for a highly introverted mama with tiny people who have no full way of expending energy. We have to embrace the bitterly cold days however , bundling up to spend at least some time outside, crafting, having tea time, telling stories, building tents, etc. I am endlessly grateful for our sizable, partially finished basement–perfect for racing cars, running, dancing, gymnastics, etc. These things are my saving grace on long days when I can’t seem to catch a break and my spirit feels grumpy.

Coming to Vermont I knew this weather would impact me as an INFP prone to seasonal depression. But right now this weight feels heavier than ever. The potential causes for this are numerous–depending on the day, my attitude, my expectations, etc. But mostly, I think, I’ve been discouraged because of the looming cultural darkness I’ve observed all around me. Sometimes it helps to step away from news/media/etc. and just breathe. I hope for better things. I pray for mercy, but ultimately I cannot ignore the reality that things may not get better here on earth. This is the result of living in a fallen world.

Today while sharing a beloved book(my favorite in the series) with my eldest, my heart found words which spoke into my heaviness pristinely.

The sailors on the Dawn Treader have sailed treacherous seas in search of lost lords, stumbling upon enchanted islands bearing witness to giants, monopods, treasure, dragons, magical people -and everything in between. Always hopeful at the prospect of finding Aslan’s country. And now–near the end– they find themselves surrounded by a suffocating darkness. This is a darkness uniquely known, yet never before felt, leaving everyone woefully worn and repressed to go on. It seems inescapable.

“Never get out!” he yelled. That’s it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out!

Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting-top and whispered, “Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now”. The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little–a very, very little–better. “After all, nothing has really happened to us yet, ” she thought.

“Look!” cried Rynelf’s voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, but the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight. Caspian blinked, stared round, saw the faces of his companions all with wild, fixed expressions. Everyone was staring in the same direction: behind everyone lay his black, sharply-edged shadow.

Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong, sweet voice what seemed to be words, though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose and began to fly slowly ahead,bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, Courage, dear heart. And the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s and with the voice a delicious smell in her face.

In a few moments the darkness turned into grayness ahead, and then, almost before they dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realized that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Lewis)

Do I wonder why? Do I pray that things will change? Do I worry about the future? YES. But I was reminded that this darkness permeating the world is no news. The fact that people wounded, broken people walk the earth hurting other wounded, broken people is no surprise–not to me, and especially not to the Father.

In the weary winter days, the gloom sometimes leaves me feeling defeated. But my hope is not lost. There is always light, there is always peace. There is always a joy readily available when my gaze is transfixed on the “things above, not the things on earth”.

This week—I saw that light in the form of warmer days. The snow finally started to melt, the sun shone brightly and even though the wind whipped our bodies to and fro as we lingered outside, we could bear it. It was my heart’s personal charge to have courage; to endure. To live in remembrance of the immutable, unfading Light. And I do not take it for granted.

And so whenever these winter days envelop my spirit, feeling unbearably woeful and heavy, I want to look back and remember God’s faithful hand.

He does not leave us in our darkness, but instead pierces through with an unchanging, unshakable hope. We must watch for it. We must wait for it. For it is there all along.

REDEEMINGTHEMUNDANE

When Dreams Lose Their Glimmer

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I have written about dreaming before. Not the sleeping kind. But those desires carefully curated and hidden away in the uttermost depths of the soul. When I was tiny, I thought my dream was to be a dentist. This was quickly foiled upon the discovery that mouths are gross. Then as I grew, I believed(and this was an idea that followed me all through college) that I would be a performer. 

I would be on Broadway, or in television. And I would orchestrate my success. 

But then things didn’t really unfold that way, and I can remember feeling a little bit lost. I lingered there longer than I should have, pursuing different avenues in the same vein,  waiting for something to happen and it just never did. No matter how hard I worked, nothing really happened and –somehow–the dream faded. It didn’t sparkle and shine the way it once had.

One of the redundant lies our culture proclaims is that we must pursue our passion. We hear this in an inspiring biography of someone who “never gave up” or we see it printed on a graphic tee shirt on instagram. Follow Your Dreams. Believe in Yourself. Do What Makes You Happy.  While I am not opposed to the idea that we’re all individually driven toward some specific bent or another, I don’t necessarily find these mantras(for lack of a better word) wise. 

It was the staunch transcendentalist Thoreau who once said, Our truest life is in dreams awake. 

While I don’t align with his particular worldview, I think Mr. Thoreau has a point. 

I spent years pursuing dreams that I believed with every fiber of my being. And I don’t regret that. But I do think there is something to be said for considering the heart of the matter. Was my desire to be known? Or to do something for the sake of bringing glory to the One who gave me the desire to do it? Sometimes, I think it was both. But in the end, I saw at my very core that the desire was to fill some void that was never empty in the first place.

Now, as a wife, mama, etc. I wouldn’t say that I’ve stopped being a dreamer. In fact, my INFP personality leaves me full of ideas almost constantly(bless my patient husband).But things look different. Nothing turned out the way I imagined. I’ve realized who holds–and even cultivates–these dream-like longings of my heart. And I see–with every seemingly mundane moment–the beauty in fixing my gaze on the One who authors my wild ideas and quiet ambitions.

For years I used to regret never pushing myself harder, or giving myself space to pursue my passion. But oh, what freedom I found in embracing what I was given! And what a peace in knowing that it was not only the right but very best thing for me. It wasn’t that my dreams died, it was that they didn’t shine nearly as brightly as they once had. The familiar glow that lifted my spirits for so long had lost its place.

That’s because the One who formed me directed my gaze towards the good, pleasing, perfect plan that was mine all along. My heart is finally at rest not in the why, but the who.

redeemingthemundane

In the long days, when I feel my hours have been wasted and left wanting…when I cannot muster the courage to wash another dish, or wipe another countertop…when discipline seems exhausting and consistency wavers in my own feeble spirit, I want to look back here and remember the goodness and grace in fixing my eyes on the One who has held my heart all along. Whoever I am, whatever I do is meaningless if He is not there at the center.
Today, whatever your now is, however your heart may grieve over what’s lost or left behind, remember Him. Recall His promises. Remember whose you are, and rest in knowing that these ordinary moments–which may not look as you expected–are not for nothing.

His plan and purpose is far greater than anything you could have imagined. He is good. He is faithful. He will give you grace to carry on; to truly and fully live in dreams awake.

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A Million Dreams Are Keeping Me Awake

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I was reading some of my old thoughts recently and was struck with the harsh reality that I live in a state of ingratitude. This particular stream of words considered the stuff of dreams. What were they? What were mine? What had changed? What had I planned so long ago for myself that was left unaccomplished? 

I was living in San Diego, CA at the time, working two jobs while also trying to hack it as a military spouse whose poor, sweet husband was out to sea more often than at home. I loved my work. I loved where we lived. And of course, I loved being married to my best friend. But somehow on this day, I was feeling a little dreary. I had stumbled upon a YouTube channel of some classmates from college(we all graduated with the same BFA in Theatre together) Instantaneously I was both impressed by their successes and[for a moment] disappointed in who I’d turned out to be. Nothing that I had planned for my life had turned out as I imagined. Briefly, I wondered if I had given up or lacked ambition in the first place. I ended up skimming the rest of the page to the very bottom, only noticing these emboldened words, the dream is following Christ. 

This week I’ve been pondering what it means to dream. The thing is, I barely recall what I felt that day. I couldn’t have imagined then that the haunting ache of desires that could not be would dissolve. Time is a tincture in that way, I think. Just as they say time heals all wounds, the passage of seasons–of joy and discomfort–has erased entirely my longing for what might have been. It was the famous virologist Jonas Salk who said, “Hope lies in dreams, in imagination and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality”. And while I understand what he meant, I respectfully disagree. I think–at least for now–that dreaming requires perspective, not just a desire to do.  If I”m dreaming from a faulty foundation–whose hope lies in what I deem to be the next best thing–then I won’t ever be fulfilled. No matter how hard I imagine, or how courageously I strive to make those dreams happen, my heart will never rest.  We can “dare to make the dreams reality” but even then, where are we placing our hope?

Today as I watched my son tinkering with pots and pans, it was as if God graciously reminded me of that awkwardly tall middle school girl who used to wonder if she’d ever be a wife or mommy one day. Because then, it seemed overwhelming to believe that I would ever be noticed by a boy. Or of those days rehearsing through tears because nothing I accomplished seemed good enough. And even of that day, writing alone in my California kitchen–when my heart fell to pieces all over again at the familiar fear that I wasn’t living well. All at once I was lost in the journey so far–of schooling, marriage, moving, mothering–and my heart soared.

The dream is following Christ

Isn’t it interesting that in our formative years we waste so much time wishing the days were better, or more productive or the very best? When, in reality(and this is a theme I continue learning) we should number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom(Psalm 90:12)?

God in his perfect goodness sees those heartfelt desires. He delicately handles the dreams of each season–weeding out the treasure that won’t last, and producing fruit from those inspired by Him.

redeemingthemundane

But in His patience, he doesn’t just throw out what seems right and good in our hearts at the  time. Instead, he carefully crafts the dream for our good and His glory. He listens, He loves us faithfully and He continues to point us to the ultimate dream–communion with Himself. 


Today, whatever your dream is–surrender it to Christ. He knows your heart, and He desires to do immeasurably more than you could ask or imagine for the sake of His name and His renown. Anything you could dream for yourself pales in comparison to what He can do in and through you. Rest in the truth that the unfading dream lies in following Christ today, tomorrow and forever.

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This Woeful Wondering

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 To him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy—to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore.  

Jude 24-25


We live in a broken, fallen world. Every day, I wake up and struggle with that. As a wife and mother, most days I wrestle with feeling overwhelmed by my daily tasks. There is always something that needs to be done, but this season is precious! How do I savor the sweet moments with littles while also keeping the house clean? Sleep doesn’t feel restful, because there is too much to be done, and when I actually close my eyes it seems brief. On top of everything, there is this gnawing anxiety in my stomach regarding the future. Where will we go? What will our nation be like? What is going to happen to my children? What will their years as parents entail?


51/2 years ago, I became a mama. It was—apart from marriage—the most sobering transition I’ve faced so far. I carried this tiny baby in my womb, and suddenly, she was out in the world and we were magically parents. Did this mean I would know how to meet her needs? Not necessarily. I had to figure it out.
Now, almost 6 years later, I have two more precious babes and life has been a whirlwind. I have loved every minute—even the messy, disorganized, smelly ones. But, some days, admittedly, I feel like I am barely surviving…barely hanging on by the thread of my last cup of [insert caffeine-infused drink here].

Recently, my heart has felt heavy. In just a matter of decades, this country has rapidly changed. In my heart, it feels like things continue to get worse. And I am grieved. I walk around daily wondering how we could ever move into it. But then I realized: it may not be that this world has gotten worse. Maybe I’m just noticing its fallen nature more. I remember years ago crying out to the Lord regarding my own heart:

Father, I want to do this well. Show me. I don’t want to feel drained of energy constantly, and discouraged because my heart is finding hope in the temporal. Help!

In a [rare] quiet moment that day, He whispered,
I am here. I am for you. I love you. I am holding you. In every season, in every transition, whatever the circumstance, I do not change. Embrace my fearless love. Rest in my unchanging ways. Cling to me as your hope. And remember that in everything, I am God. I am in control. You are not meant to merely survive. Run to me each morning. Lay your burdens on me; I can handle it. In doing that, you will flourish.

The truth is: this world is no worse than it was after the Fall. Hurting people have–and always will–continue to hurt other people, ultimately because they have lost sight of (or never saw) their need to be whole. But the beauty of beholding brokenness is found in the grace of recognizing our need for rescue. This world and its desires will continue to deteriorate around us–and believers may suffer–but there is hope in knowing Christ! He alone is our solid Refuge and Strength(Psalm 46:1), and He is in control. No matter what happens, we can rest in His sovereign will. We can stop, fix our gaze on Him, and endure well–prayerfully engaging in opportunities to point others to Him.

Beloved friends, do not lose heart! Wherever you are this morning, however you feel, whatever you face, stop and take a moment to meditate on who God is(Psalms 103-104)! He is the Creator, the Holy One, the perfect Redeemer. As we fix our eyes on Him, the wearying circumstances of earth will surely grow strangely dim, and our hearts will press on in encouraged certainty. Oh, to have a heart fully fixed on his face! Oh, to rest in who He is! May our fickle hearts find peace in Him alone!


Other helpful avenues of encouragement:

1.  Seek out community. Specifically biblical community through a local body of believers(Hebrews 10:23-24). God has not called you to live out this purpose alone. Find a friend or a group of friends to walk alongside and pray with you. It helps, I promise. Plus, you’ll meet some wonderful people. In every season, God has provided faithful friendships that have spanned our marriage, despite many life transitions. Just recently I was thanking God for providing godly and goofy friends–those people with whom I can breathe and life feels a little less lonely. It has been a rich blessing and I am grateful.

  2.  Pray. By yourself. With another woman. Both. You will be reminded of what God is doing and how to continue praying to that end. Plus, you’ll become more aware of your daily dependence on Christ (2 Chronicles 7:14, John 15:5)
3.    Memorize the Word. Find a passage to claim over this situation and know. Chew on it daily until it is burned in your mind. That way, when the Enemy tries to attack, you can fight him with the inerrant, infallible, sufficient promises of God. Let this very word counsel your weary, restless heart. (Psalm 119:23)
  4.  Pour out. For me personally, when the hard days come, I ask the Lord for opportunities to serve Him—whether through checking in on a friend, writing a note, making a care package for someone, etc. I’m learning there are many ways to creatively love people even when you’re tied down by a busy schedule. Psalm 126:6 is one of my favorite promises–the Lord will be honored when we seek to invest rather than isolate.
5.  Be vulnerable. Share your struggles. The more open and honest you are with others about how you have been challenged, the more opportunities you have to share about what God has done! As a dear friend and mentor once told me, “We’re all in this boat together. We just need to know we’re not alone”. And chances are(as I’ve learned) you aren’t.

What about you? What is your calling today? This week? In this season of life? Who are your “people”? What is your burden? Surrender it to the Father.

He is more than able to keep you from falling…

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Why Bother?

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

Gather. You’ve seen this word a million times. Hanging over the dining room table at your friend’s house, on the wall of the fellowship hall at your church, painted on artfully arranged coffee table blocks at your favorite cafe. And yet, I think we’ve all taken it’s meaning for granted. The chaos of this past year has somehow managed to seep into 2021 and we’re losing steam, aren’t we? For most of us, the idea of starting fresh held so many promises. But as so often happens, the shine of the new year is already blemished, and that lofty thought of starting over has lost its appeal.

This past Sunday, I was reminded of the need–my need–to be with people. This is a confession, of sorts—one that this introvert never imagined making. But here I am, admitting my dependence. I–the one who is very easily “spooked” by people–need people. But not just anyone and everyone–the people of God. And this is something I feel in my bones especially now. Over the past year, we’ve seen violence, death, sickness, fighting and everything in between. It has taken my breath away more often than not. But a surprising grief has overcome me–trickling in carefully and consistently the longer I push it down. This is a sadness that can’t be realized until it becomes deafening. It has moved me to my knees, and given me a longing for home.

When I consider what the people of God have endured throughout history, I am humbled at their perseveration through perseverance. The ancient heroes of the faith were not unfamiliar with suffering. They knew it well. It surrounded every breath, step and thought. Yet they were unafraid. Some experienced the loss of family members and friends–some even suffered unto death. But this was not a reason to cower in fear. In fact–it prompted a renewed vigor to remain steadfast, to pray without ceasing, to rejoice and to be thankful.

This is not so today. As I’ve observed the people of God–my own heart included–I sense a heartbreaking spirit of fear and apathy. Those words are not often linked, but here nothing pairs better. 2020 was horrendous. I never want to relive it, and I recognize that so many have suffered loss in ways I could never understand. I am familiar with my own demons, and understand the weight of hard days. There have been seasons where hopelessness drags on within and I have to fight to consider whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, commendable, lovely, excellent and worthy of praise.

But the truth that continues echoing in my mind–particularly in those dark moments–is: are we not meant to suffer? The King of Kings emptied himself that He might bring us into complete communion with God. In His perfect goodness, Jesus came, suffered and died. Isn’t it a gift to endure suffering well that He might be glorified? And yet I see fear encircling everything we do, threatening to overtake our lives. We do not serve. We do not meet together. We do not look for opportunities to gather and worship. All because we live parlayzed. I confess that I have even avoided opportunities that I could have taken because of this very thing.

But on Sunday I was gently reminded that this is not who we are. I recognize that every circumstance and conviction is different, so please do not hear me condemn. I realize that wisdom must be at the foundation of every decision; we must live cautiously(please don’t do anything foolish)!

But I am pleading: if at all possible–could we make it a priority to be together? To worship together? To serve together?

redeemingthemundane

Isolation is not healthy, nor is it really necessary for everyone. As far as it depends on you, could you prayerfully consider joining your local Body of Believers?

This year has already left us feeling defeated and discouraged. And this world is full of brokenness. But this is not where we place our hope! The Gospel was, is and always will be enough. And the Lord promises that–although we will suffer–He will hold us fast.

We can rest in who He is, and we can lean into the promises of His word alongside biblical community as often as we’re able. We will suffer, but we don’t have to endure it alone.

redeemingthemundane 
7 But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. 8 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— 10 that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.  --Phil. 3:7-11
23 Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. 24 And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.---Hebrews 10:23-25

16 Rejoice always, 17 pray without ceasing, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.---1 Thess. 5:16-18

9 Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. 10 Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. 11 Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit,[a] serve the Lord. 12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. 13 Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.
--Romans 12:9-13

Who’s the New Girl?

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

Hi! I’m new here. You may be asking yourself–WHO I am and WHY I’m writing. Understandable. Some days I do that very thing. Here’s the skinny…

I’m a mama. That’s my job. I’m not a craft genius(although I do love a good project), a podcaster(even though I can talk quite a bit…)and I don’t even have a regular or part-time job outside of being here…in my home. This may sound like a complaint. It isn’t! But what I’ve noticed in my brief time on the blogosphere is that most people have a more concrete reason for writing than mine…which is simply to write.

At the beginning of 2020(whew…what a year!) my third little love was born. He was my first boy. And though I wasn’t new to parenting, I felt wearier than ever! It may have been the combination of COVID-19, world events, another life transition, or the fact that this is year 3 of being a seminary wife(more on that later 🙂 ). Whatever it was, I realized I felt tired. In the past writing has always been a solid means of rejuvenation. Usually for me–a proud INFJ–my spare time is usually spent reading or journaling. But why make it public? Because–as I’m realizing more and more– I’m not an isolated case. There are more of you like me out there, I just know it! So here I am… praying that what I write resonates with you somehow, too.

I WANT TO…

encourage and exhort

|A SNIPPET|

Here, you’ll find…

  • yummy and easy recipes[tested and true]
  • thoughts to encourage and inspire
  • truth in my transparency
  • family moments
  • helpful life hacks
  • funny anecdotes
  • family resources
  • a weekly playlist!
  • Biblical meditation

You may have just stumbled along this page, and you might not think you’ll glean anything. That’s okay. However if you’re still reading after my ramblings, thank you. Your presence here means more than you know. ❤