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The End of All Things

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

Recently, I was asked if we plan to homeschool long-term. A dear friend was wondering if I had considered the future and what home education might look like in the middle-teenage years.

My honest answer was that I don’t know. I prayerfully reassess every year, based on each individual child, the needs of our family, time, schedules, my emotional capacity, etc. And so every year I move remembering the Lord’s “precious and very great promises”(2 Peter 1:3) to me in His word, and soldier on—whatever the choice may be. And every year, we laugh, cry, and grow—in every way.

My personality makes no allowances(in my flesh) for risks. I do not like them; I would rather know the outcome. So choosing to educate my children has always been in faith. And God, in His mercy, brings fruit(1 Corinthians 3:6-8).

I am certainly no homeschool only advocate. I have learned[through my own errors] that projecting your convictions on others can be detrimental relationally. But I am an advocate for living out biblical conviction, and I recognize that it manifests differently based on circumstances/seasons/family ideals/location/etc. I could count the ways I’ve been enriched through our journey, but I think that says less about our personal choice and speaks more to the faithfulness of a Sovereign God(Col. 1)

Over the last year, in our journey with one of the children, I had become discouraged regarding progress. I wondered(as I often do) if this child was excelling or “on track”. This stems from my toxic trait of falling into a comparison “trap” with others.

But this morning, over family devotions at the breakfast table, I was reminded of the end of all things. We had just read aloud the words of David in Psalm 37, and my instructions were to pick a verse that stood out. I laughed internally thinking no one heard or understood a word I said. But then that same child for whom I have labored in prayer and concern to the Lord, jolted out of her seat and began pacing around the room, clearly mid-hunt. I waited and watched, then inquired gently,

How can I help?

Paper. Was all I heard. I need paper.

I gathered the materials she needed[pens, and scissors, too] and observed.

Of course her paper was shielded as she tuned out the chaos of morning breakfast and wrote with fierce concentration.

When she finished moments later, I gazed upon her work.

It was a slip of paper, cut out with the words:


I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken

It wasn’t textbook “perfect”. But in the midst of a very loud, distracting moment, these words enlightened her heart. She wanted to hang them up so we could memorize them over the week and look at them every day.

I couldn’t help but consider Peter’s words:

“The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer. Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaint. As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another as good stewards of the multifaceted grace of God. Whoever speaks is to do so as one who is speaking actual words of God; whoever serves is to do so as one who is serving by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”
‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭4‬:‭7‬-‭11‬ ‭NASB2020‬‬

My prayer for all of my children is that they might grow in the love and knowledge of the Lord. That they might serve wholeheartedly, living in light of the Gospel of grace.

Because the end of all things is not academic excellence[though I know that is important in its context and should not be ignored].

The end of all things is knowing Christ.

Peter wrote these words at the end of a life marked by steadfast[though imperfect] service to the Father. He had known betrayal(of his own accord and by the disloyalty of others), physical and emotional suffering, and imprisonment. He knew his end was near. And appropriately, some of his final words to the dear believers in exile included a charge to endure to the end. A

And admittedly—beneath all of my anxieties and fearful wonderings—that is my prayer. I desperately desire that my girl—and all of my little ones—will endure faithfully in the end and to the end[when God-willing, they will run into the arms of the One for whom they’ve struggled tearfully and faithfully all along].

I routinely doubt myself-as a wife, mama, educator, counselor, etc. This is particularly felt in the realm of home education. Most days I feel very ill-equipped. And I do wonder if what we’ve chosen in faith is right or best.

But that’s just it, isn’t it?

Whatever we choose, we do it in faith. We do it trusting the perfect provision of our Lord(Phil. 4:19), remembering those precious treasures in scripture we’ve clung tightly to for so long. We do it because the Unchanging, mighty God holds us fast. We do it because we know that at the end of all things to live faithfully for the glory of God and by His grace is our best expression of worship. He has given us His very son, and so at the very least, we must surrender every mundane moment. We can choose to see Him in it in gratitude and in worship.

| S E R V A N T |

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

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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Small Beginnings of Grace

/ Walden World / 4 Comments

Our middle little has been particularly challenging the last few months. Not because of a stubborn spirit. Not for failure to obey. Not because her heart is hard. It is, in fact, quite the opposite problem–her tenderness. I hesitate to use that word problem because being soft-hearted is something I pray often over my children. But lately—and I’m not sure if it’s because we’re juggling busyness again, or just for the fact that I have 3 under 5—her little emotions seem to have run haywire. Some days my husband and I exchange puzzled glances wondering how to move forward. I suppose, however, that is not uncommon in this journey of parenting, as a whole. But this feels different. Our sweet girl cries instantly over seemingly the smallest details—my tummy isn’t hungry for this food, I wanted to give you one more hug, my chalk isn’t coloring right, my barbie car won’t fit., the water in the bath tub isn’t right, my pants won’t go on..and the list goes on and on. You may be shaking your head at my overstatement of the obvious—she’s a toddler. In fact, she’s not just a toddler, she’s three. That’s the age so far that has challenged me most. I think most can agree that it’s easy to Google developmental milestones to see why. 3 is that magical age(at least for the kiddos in our family) where they’re learning to deeply interact with the world and relationships around them. They’re asking questions. They’re exploring. And they’re responding as they learn to think critically. With our eldest, we didn’t experience an amalgam of emotions because she is more logical. She asked, we answered and she(for the most part) trusted us. When we didn’t know the answer, we would research together and she retained much. That is just the way she was made. But with our very fragile, tender middle it is entirely different. That’s not to say that both of my daughters don’t harbor gentle, sensitive spirits. I’ve seen it manifested in both on different occasions and under different circumstances.

However I recently discovered that—like me–our sweet girl feels deeply. When she is hurt, she’s down hard. When she is joyful, her spirit bursts forth with singing. When she is feeling silly, she’s the family comedian. And even though her emotions seem to weigh me down sometimes(because I don’t often know how to respond, or don’t have the capacity to respond in patient love) these are the very means by which she will be used mightily one day.

The other day I stumbled upon these words which express what my heart has needed so well:

Let us not therefore be discouraged at the small beginnings of grace, but look on ourselves as elected to be ‘holy and without blame’. Let us look on our imperfect beginning only to enforce further striving to perfection…otherwise, in case of discouragement, we must consider ourselves as Christ does, who looks on us as those he intends to fit for himself. Christ values us by what we shall be, and by what we are elected into. We call a little plant a tree because it is growing up to be so. ‘Who has despised the day of small things?'(Zech. 4:10). Christ would not have us despise little things

The Bruised Reed, Sibbes

I think I realized that on my weary and worn days, when I’m feeling irritable or sluggish, I only see those emotions negatively. Every complaint, or cry of frustration and woe just exasperates me. But I’m forgetting to see those small beginnings of grace in my sweet girl’s life. Yes, she’s the first one to cry–and sometimes wail-(at an eye-twitching pitch)-when she doesn’t get her way, or she is angered by some insignificant detail of the day. BUT she’s also the first and last person to hug her baby brother before nap and bedtime(something she requests daily). And she’s also the one who prays fervently for my aches and pains every night as we tuck her in( Lord, please help mama’s tummy. Please make mama’s headache go away, Lord, I’m so sorry that mama’s nose was bleeding today. Please make her better). She’s quick to notice when people are hurting, or lost in sadness. And she’s there to help, hug, or just be present in that broken moment. She is our feeler in every sense of the word. But there’s also a hidden consistency there that I often miss–her faithful spirit. In every emotion, she commits. I know that sometimes this is expressed sinfully, but it is a trait there nonetheless. She is unwavering in her tenderness and strength. And when this is expressed appropriately it is stunningly beautiful.

But sometimes, as she reminds me, “it’s just hard being 3”. So on those long days(which have been many as of late) I want to remember this. Her little heart won’t always use these gifts well–because she isn’t perfect. But the potential—the goodness–is there, because these are those small beginnings of grace for which we, as her parents, pray regularly. We ask the Lord to work within her heart, to draw her to himself, to make her see his pure, abundant love. And these precious, fragile emotions might just be the means by which she sees who He is and serves those around her. If only my own sinful heart wasn’t obscuring the view…

I’m so grateful that God has allowed me to see more of His gracious, steadfast spirit in this privilege of motherhood. I’m forever thankful that He doesn’t deal with me impatiently, but quietly and tenderly. He is constantly, faithfully drawing me into deeper rest and recognition that I can’t mother well apart from His matchless mercy and grace.

And I’m going to try–especially when my heart feels faint—to look upon my sweet little one as who she might become instead of seeing her flaws(of which I have many, too).

Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.

1 John 3:2
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This Present Darkness

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

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
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A Million Dreams Are Keeping Me Awake

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

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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Armchairs: a Lesson in Faithfulness

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

 I don’t know about you, but this past week was a bit of a grind. I usually slink into a rhythm after the holiday scramble, but this month our family’s schedule had no choice but to jump head-on into busyness. Unregrettably(and with surprising enthusiasm) we have embraced full days, falling into bed both exhausted and hopeful. Mostly because the weariness of busyness feels right; normal. And we are desperate to be in that wonderful world of routine again. 

I confess that sometimes, the exhaustion of busyness leaves me listless. I(unlike my sweet husband) do not embrace the transition into a new routine well. For me, this has been most visible in my commitment to starting the day early. 

The dawn of the new year brought  a belated Christmas gift of two[long-desired] armchairs. These were chairs we had considered for years, but never allowed ourselves because “the timing wasn’t right”, they were “too expensive” or we had “nowhere to put them”. At the beginning of the year, we made a grand commitment(this was more mine than my husband’s because…he is far more disciplined than I am) to rise early together. I finally realized that the only way my introverted personality would find rest would be to embrace the unthinkable–an earlier alarm. Truth:  this is not me. I really love sleep. I mean, a lot. Ask any member of my family and they will wholeheartedly agree that I really enjoy being in “comfy clothes” snuggled under warm blankets. But I noticed that every time I awoke with the girls(meaning they came in with their standard,  “Mom, can you get me some milk?” morning greeting) I was cranky. Understandably so, right? Because who else wants to wake up to demands? In their defense, they don’t understand that questions can feel demanding sometimes. As far as they’re concerned(and there is some truth to this) it’s my job to meet their needs. But you get it, right? Thus the decision to arise early–like uncomfortably early(for me) was made. And so, morning-by-morning I cringed as my alarm rang out painfully early, and stumbled through our dark, cold kitchen to those beloved chairs. We bought them, I reasoned, and so I must. 

And so–I trudged through those first few days grumbling, yet consistent. It was cold, I was up before the sunrise, and it felt off. But then I remembered my fuzzy red polka-dotted robe. And there was a fireplace. And I could finish my tea without having to reheat it. And I got to spend time with my husband before the kids woke up. And this was the only time of day to enjoy my winter village[which is actually what I’m calling my Christmas village since I haven’t had the heart to pack it up yet] in quiet calm. And…and…

Something strange happened as I continued my date with the chairs: my heart changed. I began to see the fruit of this simple act of faithfulness. 

I recently finished reading the book of Joshua. His last charge to the people of Israel before his death really struck me. In fact, any time I see someone’s final words in scripture, it grips my heart. There’s something about the balance of caution and tenderness in Joshua’s tone that seemed to resonate with my heart this morning, in particular. After gathering the Israelites before him, Joshua recounted all the good things that the Lord had done for the people: freedom from captivity, providing a land promised and preserved just for them, destroying kings, cities and strongholds that they might prosper for the sake of God’s glory, preserving and purifying families throughout generations, etc. And then the passage shifts to Joshua’s command. The very first words uttered are these: 

Now therefore fear the Lord and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness. Put away the gods that your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. And if it is evil in your eyes to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

Then…

The people answered, “far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods…”

Joshua 24:14-16a

At the ripe old age of 9 years, I gave my life to Christ. This is something that I pray for my children daily–that they might have a desire to know and love Him from a young age. For as long as I can remember, I have known stories in the Bible. Many of them are familiar–like old friends–But I have to admit(and maybe you’ve never felt this) sometimes my heart needs to seem them afresh. Sometimes, in my flesh, I don’t see the stories of scripture with wonder and awe. And sadly, I lack that passion filling my eyes in other, younger spiritual seasons[when I say younger, I mean those foundational years…when everything was exciting and new]. This discourages me at times, and forms an incorrect self-doubt within my mind. Of course, this is due to the inconsistent, temporal nature of my own fickle heart. Never has it been because God changes. It’s always only ever me. I get in the way, so to speak. 

Too often, I am like the Israelites–making lofty commitments, foolishly attempting faithfulness in my own strength.

Sincerity and steadfastness do not come naturally because I am flawed. Honestly, this realization discouraged my heart earlier this week. But then I considered those armchairs. It isn’t always easy to get up earlier. And in fact, I really struggled most days, but it became routine. And I my heart became thankful. That, to me is a very modest example of what it means to pursue this mysterious, unattainable-in-my-own-flesh faithfulness to which I’m called. When Joshua charged the Israelites, he knew that some of them would fail. He even reminded them later(vs. 19) that it would be impossible to serve God with their own hollow promises[ He was far too holy for that]. 

But God, in his perfect grace and goodness, will always preserve those who are truly His. 

We saw Him do it continually with the Israelites, and I’ve seen it in my own life, too. When steadfastness becomes a strain, I am reminded of my need to continue looking to Christ, by whom true sincerity and faithfulness is possible. 

For me, that means honoring little commitments for the sake of the biggest one, and watching how God graciously meets me there. It means offering my often faithless, grumbling heart to the One who created it, knowing that He alone will restore, supply and sustain[producing greater joy!] to the very end. 

redeemingthemundane

Today, whatever your faithfulness looks like, know it isn’t overlooked by this completely Holy, yet perfectly loving Father. He sees you doing the dishes, working on your business, changing dirty diapers, caring for your house-bound friend or family member, striving at your cubicle,etc. He knows your needs, and He will give you grace to carry on, for the sake of your good, His name and His renown.

PS–feel free to ask me how my morning routine is going–the Lord knows I need the accountability! 🙂

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This Woeful Wondering

/ Walden World / Leave a comment

 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

On Advent

/ Walden World / Leave a comment
2020-12-25T12:00:00

  days

  hours  minutes  seconds

until

Christmas

Does productivity make anyone else feel valuable? It only seems fitting that every year December finds me waiting for something. This time last year, I was [quite possibly] bigger than a [tiny] house waiting on our littlest love. I prayed he would come early, but as he wasn’t due until the beginning of this year I wondered if he would. And he didn’t. I was restless, achey, wobbly and harried. The robust energy with which I embraced the Christmas season felt forced and insufficient, which made me feel insufficient. And God, in his grace, met me with peace from every anxiety and rest in the waiting.

This year I find myself waiting, yet again. And there is a sense of goodness in it. At the beginning of the holiday season( literally ON Thanksgiving) I became ill. Not the 24- hour bug kind of ill, the virus kind. Which meant scary things like isolation and quarantine. Even for an introvert, nothing about staying inside appealed to me. I planned to go full-throttle Christmas Queen with my girls, and I was excited to not be pregnant so I could have crazy-mom-at-Christmas energy to go and do all of the things. But then it hit hard. And I was down for almost two weeks. Nothing about that felt productive. I couldn’t even hold my children. I could barely shower, and my fatigue left me feeling useless every hour. Yes, it was that bad. The Monday after resting for what seemed like an eternity(over 2 weeks, people!), I tried to resume normal duties. I couldn’t. I spent the day in bed trying to work on things I had put off, trying to clean, trying to do something–anything! But I just. couldn’t. do it. And I didn’t just feel crummy physically, I felt emotionally depleted. Nothing I did worked. Nothing was accomplished. I felt SO invaluable and SO defeated.

But I’m learning that sometimes the most productive thing I can do is allow myself to rest.

Redeemingthemundane

What is going on, Lord? Why doesn my heart feel this way? I wondered quietly. It wasn’t until yesterday, when I described my emotions to a new friend that something clicked. It was something she mentioned in passing, but as I listened I realized my heart needed it: “Susanna, I’m not enough. And I just needed to admit that. I need help. I need Jesus”.

There’s a sweet song by Rain for Roots that paraphrases Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28-30:

Come to me. Walk with me. Learn the rhythms of my grace. Come to me --I have all you need. Learn to rest even while you are awake.
Are you tired?
Are you worried?
Worn out from the day?
Have you been in a hurry? 

I will slow the pace.

The words kept running over and over in my mind like a gently babbling brook. And as I pondered my friend’s words, I made the same admission: I cannot do this. I cannot be enough. I need Jesus.

The lie were told as women is that we are enough. And in that, we can do it all. In fact, we can HAVE it all. We can juggle a million and one things. And shouldn’t we? This is the age of women! This is OUR time! What I’m realizing more and more-what God continues to impress upon my heart—is the truth that I am imperfect, flawed and fragile. The sobering truth for me—for us all-is that our bodies were designed to need rest. To be quiet. To weaken over time.

We’re restless, aimless people ever seeking fulfillment in our own pursuits. We need people. We need to do. But more importantly, we need to know that our neediness can only be met with peace by the One ordained it.

Redeemingthemundane

Last night I sat down with my mental “to do” list for today streaming through my mind. That same friend who was kind enough to let me see her imperfections suggested giving myself one goal a day. She said that it was something she had begun to do and it caused her to measure her days without feeling overwhelmed. So, today I tried it. And it worked! Less because of more and more because of perspective. It just happened to be a more productive day than the others. And I was tempted to glory in my flesh until I remembered this lesson.

And so this season, even though I’m humbled to be learning something I (in my pride) feel I should already know, I’m thankful. Thankful for the reminder to slow down and rest. Thankful for the grace given to remain steadfast(even if it’s only breath-by-breath). Thankful for the gift of waiting.

Dear friend, wherever you are, whoever you are, remember the freedom in admitting you are not, in fact enough. Run to the Faithful Savior who always is.

Rest on a Friday

/ Walden World / 2 Comments

Well, I’m writing from the comfort of my bed this afternoon. This is not something I had planned. In fact, since it is the day after Thanksgiving, I had every intention of letting the Christmas festivities commence. You’re going to laugh…but since 2020 has been a heck of a year I took the opportunity last week to put up my beloved Christmas village and sprinkle bits and pieces of Christmas all around the house. I was careful to preserve the dining room(the center of Thanksgiving dinner), and I tried desperately to save the Christmas music I knew so well for my quiet, solo moments (I didn’t want to exhaust the melodies of Christmas for the rest of my family)! And so today was reserved for indoor Christmas lights(because I put the outdoor lights up last week…when in Vermont one must seize the opportunity during warmer days!) , ornaments and the rest of the house. But…here I am, sniffling my way through a very drowsy morning-turned-afternoon.

It is this kind of day that could make the more productive(or, I should say productivity-seeking) personalities among us(like myself) frustrated. Gosh, I am so thankful that our God is not this way.

HE doesn’t see these rest-filled moments(that masquerade as laziness in my own heart) as wasteful, but rather a necessary reprieve. And isn’t that needed perspective?

I have been camping out in Psalm 119 the past week, and—let me tell you—it has been a balm for my soul! I’m learning that as a mama to three little bitties, my very forgetful brain meditates better when I’m chewing on the same passage weeks at a time. The Psalmist continually speaks of life found in the Word(17, 25, 37,50, 88, 93, 107, 116, 149, 154, 156, 159). Today my physical body is failing me(only in a minor way, but I am still hindered by how weakened this cold has made me). It reminds me of the truth that this life—this body, this world—is not my home. The Lord is ever-refining that I may daily be brought to that remembrance. And there is such goodness in that!

But I wouldn’t have noticed(not today, at least) if my mind was consumed by the Christmas chaos I had planned. No; because my schedule changed entirely, my mind has remembered the source of true rest—found in Christ alone. And that(however frustrated I am, and however foiled I found my plans) is exactly what I needed.

It seems so fitting that the Lord has given me pause before my very favorite(and always busy) time of year. It is His gentle reminder to stop, fixing my eyes on Him, and rest in WHO He is. As we near the Advent season, I’m so grateful He has hushed my restless heart; so humbled that He’s not exasperated to correct me(yet again) but peaceably calls me to quiet reflection. It is a perfect faithfulness of which I am undeserving. 

This blessing has fallen to me, that I have kept your precepts. ~ Psalm 119:56

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! ~ Psalm 27:14