When Crickets Chirp...

If you are one of the few precious people who read this blog, you may have noticed that I’ve been quiet for awhile.  Like… pretty much since before Christmas.  Way too long.  Maybe you've heard the crickets chirping here. :) Sure, I’ve done a few product reviews and those are always fun, but I really haven’t taken the time to express my own thoughts in awhile. 

To be honest, I haven’t really known what to say.  The Lord has had me in this “quiet season” right now.  It’s a season of rediscovering what I know to be true about Him and yet discovering things about Him that I’ve never truly known before.   It’s a season of reshaping my faith and shutting my mouth so that I can really hear His Word and His voice in new ways.  And, it’s a season of stripping… of painful pruning and trust walks, when I can’t see where He’s taking me. 

(a precious 5-year old version of Jesus coming back in the clouds) 

This week marks two years since my sweet husband went to be with Jesus.  Everyone prepared me that the second year post loss would be harder, and boy, were they right.  I’ve been faced with some really difficult trials this year, and been up against some obstacles that I’ve never encountered before and could have never guessed were coming.   Our circle of support has also grown smaller, but I was prepared for that too, thanks to wise words I’ve read from the lovely Kay Warren.  The grief pops up in less expected ways that I'm not as prepared for. Through it all, I’ve had to continually learn more and more to let Jesus be my total sufficiency, and trust Him to provide all that we need in His perfect timing.  That timing, of course, is far different from my own. 

Yet, He has been so so faithful in gently guiding me on this journey and giving me a strength I could never conjure up on my own to endure whatever each day brings.   He has humbled me greatly as I see more and more, that this life has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Him.  He has challenged my faith through the lives of others who have walked this journey before me.  He has brought broken dreams to the spotlight of my prayers and has given me the boldness to bravely approach Him with my shattered heart, entrusting Him again and again with those dreams.   And when I do, He beautifully pours in me the hope, though some days bleak, to continue dreaming and trusting. 

I want to see Him continue to work, and to accomplish those dreams He’s put in my heart.   But for now, I believe it’s about being still and letting Him fight for me as I learn that in quietness and confidence is my strength. (Is. 30:15)

Pastor James MacDonald visited my church recently, and preached from James 1.   When he spoke on James 1:3-4:

"...for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing."

He explained that steadfastness, patience, or whatever other word your Bible translation gives, is the Greek word “hupomena”… which means "to remain under."   This is the true challenge of trials and hard seasons in our lives.  Will we choose to remain under when all we want to do is to get out?  To stop fighting it and endure for as long as is needed, learning what our Father wants us to from it?  What a lesson learned that will help us through anything we will face in life!  When we learn how to “remain under” well, it is a funnel through which all other ministry and life opportunities will grow. 

This brought so much clarity to me and encouraged me, as I hope it does for you, that God is using the hard seasons to teach us so much.  The process of learning how to remain under will not only help me now, but in whatever seasons that are ahead.  

So for now, I choose to remain under even when it’s painful.  And remaining under may mean more quiet.  More seeking instead of speaking.   I may be quiet for awhile longer.  The crickets may keep chirping around here, but amidst the silence, a lot more can be learned than it often can in the noise.  

I honestly don’t really know what’s ahead.  I have big dreams and plans, even for this little blog, but they are all in God’s hands.  

And I'm learning that there’s no one better to hold them.  

It's November.

So... it's November. October just flew by with some travel and crazy mingled in with the blur. I tried to get all of my 31 posts done, but realized that if these were words I believe my Father gave me to share from my heart, then they couldn't always come on such a scheduled approach. Instead, they are on His time table.  Then when I saw that one of my favorite bloggers, Emily, posted her need to continue her 31 day challenge into November, and her sister - the creator of the challenge, none the less - is doing the same... well, I'm totally fine with stretching it out now. :)

I hope to continue the last 11 posts in this series over the course of the next two weeks, so I hope you will check back here for them. In the meantime, my heart has been preparing to usher in the month of November, and with it, the realization that the holidays are just around the corner. For someone who has been through loss and is trying to keep plugging along through a lot of hard when most everyone around seems happy and festive, the holidays can be a time when you just want to run for the nearest exit and hole away in your comfy little home until they are over. Or, they can be a greater reason to focus on the hope we have as an anchor for our souls because of Jesus. His love. His sacrifice. His securing of a future that is bright and free of pain and loss.

There are two ways that I have found so far that are helping me tremendously with that, and I want to share them here in case you are also trying to choose joy throughout the next couple of months.  You get that it can be easier said than done.  But it can be done.  Day by day.  Sometimes moment by moment.

First, Ann Voskamp's "thankful tree,"

Our family has done this for a few years now, but we used to just find a pack of paper leaves somewhere (which has been a challenge some years!).  I love how Ann's have verses of praise on them that can adorn your tree.  We just got all of our leaves cut out and can't wait to get started with one thing we each are thankful for each day for the entire month of November.  Go here to find them.

Second, Sara Hagerty, a new author that I seriously cannot get enough of right now, wrote an incredible book I just finished called Every Bitter Thing is Sweet.  She introduces a practice of adoring God, where she finds something about His character to dwell on each day.  I haven't been doing this for long, but already it has encouraged me so much to keep my eyes on Him more often and not on my circumstances.  She has printables to help her readers with this reflection, and you will just love them!  Go here to find them.

So... happy November, everyone.  No matter what we are facing right now in life, may we look back at the end of the month in gratitude not only for what He has done for us, but what He has done in us.

And so it begins...

It's been a good summer... but a long one. I love my littles dearly, but summer now means I have to be intentional about having adult conversations. I think the combination of the heat, the length, and just a lot of overall hard going on all around us - well, it's had me quiet and a bit discouraged.  This world can do that, I've learned, and I think that's ok.  Those hardships help us to focus on what truly matters and live each day with eternity in mind, knowing this is not our home.

But today begins a new chapter for our family.  All three of my precious kiddos are at the same hybrid school this year for the first time.  All three have amazing teachers who I already love and know are "God picked" for them this year.

What's hybrid, you ask?  It means that during the school year, I have 2 1/2 weekdays each week to focus on myself, God's plan for me, and have the time to make connections with other adults that He has put in my life. All while my children are being loved on and taught by some wonderful teachers.  And the other 2 1/2 days?  Well, I get to be involved in my kids' education, homeschooling and being there for both the struggles and joys found in learning and life itself.  What a blessing.  

I'm excited about what the Lord has for my kiddos to learn this year, but I'm also excited about what He wants me to learn too.  I've had a couple new opportunities already pop up that I'm thrilled about, and my arms and heart are wide open to what else He may open up for me.   I want to be writing regularly on this blog, and have two new kinds of posts I want to make regulars, because they are things I'm frequently asked about. :) 

Soon you will be seeing this:

(I'm always asked what books we are currently reading... so this is an easy way to regularly answer...)

and this...

(how I make things work for us, try to juggle all the hats I've been given to wear... easy meals, organization, cleaning, etc!)

So be sure to come back regularly for a visit, and introduce yourself if you haven't already! :) 

Here's to a great school year for all of us mamas out there too!  

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." -Jeremiah 29:11

Germinating.

Sometimes, the Farmer chooses to plant seeds a little deeper in the ground.  It takes work for them to pop through the ground and breathe in the deep refreshing air and sunlight with newly formed and growing leaves.  It takes time to see any results.  It’s really dark down there, under that rich soil. 

But the soil is full of nutrients that the seed needs in order to grow.  The Farmer also knows that the depth of the seed's roots can determine its long term strength.   During the seed's darkest days underground, a lot of beautiful work happens that no one can see.  The seed is germinating.  It’s growing its roots, so that it can remain strong when it emerges from the soil and faces the wind and the rain.   The beautiful flowers that will bloom in sunlight are the result of its time first spent in darkness.  A great work is being done in that tiny seed while no one can see the beauty of what’s really happening. 

Like children waiting to see flowers, we grow impatient as we wait for the seeds of our dreams to grow.  Our futures… they can look so bleak and confusing.    What is happening?  When will things change?  But the miracle of growth is just that – a miracle.  It’s not something we can always have a system and a plan for.  Different seeds - like different dreams - take different amounts of time to produce fruit.  And when you factor in what kind of soil, how often they are watered, and how much sun shines on them - the process is often out of our control. 

The next time you see a watermelon, consider with amazement that it started as just a tiny seed, growing up to 200,000 times its weight.  Now that takes some time, but the results are great.  Worth it.  And incredibly amazing.  A true miracle.

I need the patience of the Farmer.  I need His long term perspective, His faith, and His loving watch care over His seeds.  

So the next time someone asks me what I’m up to, maybe I’ll respond with, “I’m germinating.”  

And it will be the honest truth. :)

“Faith is what keeps those dreams alive, even when it seems as though they are dead and buried.  But that is the very nature of seeds.  They go underground.  They disappear.  And while it may seem like they are dead, they are not.  They are just germinating beneath the surface.”

–Mark Batterson, Draw the Circle

I am not enough.

I am sure you’ve heard the saying that “it takes a village.” I’d be the first one to raise my hand in agreement. But I’d also be quick to go a step further and assure you that it also takes an Almighty God directing that village. At least that is how it’s looked pretty clearly in my life lately. And I don’t know if I could function a full day without that truth.

I am not enough. You need to know that about me, because you’d find it out soon enough anyway. I am seriously not enough in my own strength, no matter how hard I try. There are three kids living in my home, and only one mom. And now, there is only one parent doing what God designed to be a two person job. I can do the very best job I possibly can do, and I will still pretty much always mess up something. Last week I did a pretty good job getting everyone where they needed to be, but made a pretty big mistake in my job that could have had some pretty bad results. (Thankfully, it didn’t!) Another week, I’ve had everything done that I needed to for work, but really messed up when it came to really being there for my kids, not listening to what was on their hearts. And then there are those times when our own bodies and souls are getting so little attention because we are so busy taking care of everyone else, that we end up sick. Yes, you guessed it - that’s me this week.

But the way I see it, the sooner we come to the realization that we will mess up, the better off we are. It means that we can more honest with ourselves and more real with others, and I for one, crave that in a friendship. I heard Pastor Matt Chandler say recently that “there is no freedom in a lack of honesty”, and it’s so true. So I guess, if nothing else, I have honesty to offer you. :) I am not enough on my own. I cannot do it all. I will try to juggle as many plates as I’ve been given to juggle, but I can assure you that I will probably drop one regularly.

And that’s where the village comes in. This beautifully orchestrated body that Christ has ordained to help meet each other’s needs and carry each other’s burdens. And I know that it ultimately comes from Him, because most of the time the help received begins with a “God put this on my heart” type statement. It’s using their own talents and giftedness, in a beautiful and unselfish way.

(last day of 3rd grade)

(last day of 1st grade)

(last day of preK)

Last week, my kids finished school. It was the first complete school year we went through without B, and it wasn’t easy. Yet, they finished strong with honors, and with character award choices from their teachers that made me cry and would make their Daddy so proud. So, besides thanking God, I need to say a huge ‘thank you” shout to my village. To those who help with rides to and from places, and childcare when I need to be somewhere with one and the others need to be watched. To those who continue to provide us with meals and gift cards when we have busy nights trying to squeeze in a meal before a sports practice. To those who have helped with the funds needed for the kids to participating in activities they are eager to try. To those who encourage both me and the kids when things get hard, and remind us that Christ loves us dearly. To those who regularly pray for us and encourage us by letting us know that they do. To those who understand that grief is a lifelong journey, not a sprint, and who accept me as I am in that moment without trying to change me. To those who give me a shoulder to cry on when I need it, and a night out to laugh and be free from life’s burdens for awhile when I need that too.

You are all beautiful members of the body of Christ, and your role, whatever it is, is far from insignificant. It is blessing our family, and it is helping us move forward successfully knowing that we can do all things -even the hard ones - through Him who gives us strength. Thank you, to each and every one of you.

Our family loves and thanks the Lord for you!


"I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy." -Philippians 1:3-4

I choose to dance.

It’s late and I never write this late, so perhaps none of this will make any sense – but that’s ok, because I write more for myself anyway, and it’s been too long since I stopped and shared my thoughts.  My kids have been on spring break this week, so any daytime writing time just hasn’t been a possibility.  I think the words just keep piling up in my head and heart until they just have to come out, which is where I’m at tonight.  :) 

Usually, the words also revolve around a theme I’ve been learning, and tonight is no different.  This quote has been in my head this week:

"Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass... it's about learning to dance in the rain."

You’ve heard it, I'm sure.  Probably a million times, just like I have.  But it’s been circling around in my head especially this week.  Like I mentioned, this week was spring break for my kids, and I had high intentions of planning a lot of fun adventures.  Our local pool just opened back up too, and I told the kids we would get to spend time there this week.  But… then, it started raining.  And then got windy.  Then got cold.  Then got rainy again.  And basically our plans got washed away with the rain showers. 

But I’m getting pretty experienced with changed plans.  So instead, I’ve been really productive with getting some projects done around the house while the kids begged to watch Frozen again, so that we can be out enjoying the nice weather when it comes.  And between the work, we’ve read books, played games, eaten quite a few desserts, and laughed a lot together.   So no, it’s not a spring break any of us will probably be talking about for years to come – but then again, who knows?  Maybe it will be.

I am not a good dancer.  If I can’t even dance well on a dance floor, you had better believe that I would immediately slip and fall if I tried to dance for long while dodging puddles during a rainstorm.  But I’m thankful this quote means more to me than just the literal translation.  Because there have been a lot of life’s storms around me lately.  Aside from our own hardships, there have been several people we know and love going through some really hard things even this week.  It makes me want to throw up now just thinking about what they are having to endure. 

If there’s one thing I’ve seen in the last 14 months, it’s that life can change instantly, leaving us in a pile of tears and questions.   Every one of us wakes up in the morning having no idea what we will be hit with that day.   Maybe it will be something exciting.  These days, I wake up hopeful that it will be.  But I also wake up with the realization that this world is full of pain and hardship, and I can’t wait for the pain and hardship to go away before I do things.  Because nothing but our Heavenly Father and His love for us will ever really be a certainty in this world. 

So, I choose to dance, and for me, to dance means to live.  Depending on the type of dance, I may have to go slowly and follow a learning curve, but I still choose to try.  To choose to be the best me I can be today and not wait around until tomorrow to first find out if it will be a better day.  To stay up late reading books sometimes even when I know I’ll be tired in the morning, because it’s the only “me time” I’ve gotten for the last few days.  To push myself in the gym even when I know I’ll be sore the next day.  To watch Spiderman cartoons on YouTube so I can be the best storyteller possible to my little boy who is missing his daddy’s great bedtime stories.   To sit and play another board game when the sink is full of dishes.  To go after dreams, even when I have no clue if they will ever come to fruition.   

Because dancing is way more fun than just watching or wishing.  

Just breathe.

One of the things I’ve begun to do to help me through this grieving process is running. Yes, I know some would call me crazy – but believe me, I needed it. Something that keeps me healthy, gives “me time” with worship music coming through my headphones while my children are well cared for, helps me feel better about myself, helps cut down on stress, and gives me goals in otherwise now pretty mundane days of caring for small children? Well, I’d call that a win ten times over.

I have regularly worked out at a gym for years, but never have been able to run due to asthma. And until now, I never really minded. But now? Well, I’m a little bit of a crazy determined woman who has needed to accomplish some things I could never do before. I decided to use my “couch to 5k” app to train myself for a 5k on Father’s Day, honoring Bryan’s legacy and beating my own personal odds.

I have to admit – the start of my training was awful. I had to get a pricy inhaler that I must use at the beginning of the run. I spent the majority of each run trying to catch my breath, gasping for air while mentally telling myself over and over that I could do this. It was quite humiliating to feel so out of shape when I had before considered myself to be pretty fit. I called a few friends who I knew had beaten asthma and are great runners today, hoping they would share their secrets with me. I found it was something they all just had to persevere through.

Then one day, I was reading on my Kindle to try to make the time on the treadmill go by faster and be distracted from how hard this was. I came across a passage reminding me that the Hebrew word for God, Yahweh, was written without vowels and pronounced with the sounds of taking a breath in and breathing it back out. Go ahead and try saying it to yourself right now.

YHWH

Amazing, right?

This God who created the universe, who put the stars in the sky and who has held it in place through thousands of years, longs for us to breathe His name with every breath we take. The easy ones, when we laugh hysterically with joy at life’s wonderful moments. The sad ones, when we cry uncontrollably at the hardship we’ve been given to wade through. And, the difficult ones, when we gasp for air, praying it continues to come – praying we can just keep breathing.

A good friend told me that the Lord’s taught her more lessons while running than in Bible studies she’s done. I’m understanding it now. Even running can be worship. And worship, as Louie Giglio profoundly put it in a recent sermon, is giving God His breath back. After all, don’t all of our breaths come from Him anyway? He’s the only reason I wake up with breath in my lungs each day.

And so, I run – both on the literal treadmill, and through this “treadmill” called life. I give it my all, so that when it’s all said and done, I will have run the race and endured the faith. And that 5k? H and I ran it together, and it was so invigorating. We’re actually doing another one together tomorrow! I may never be the fastest runner, but I am determined to keep running… and to keep breathing.

In and out. In and out. 

One breath at a time.

 

I'm back.

Hope… everyone seems to be grasping for it these days, desperately searching for it through life’s unanswered questions and hardships. We look to a lot of things to meet needs and fill the ache and the holes in our souls, coming up empty again only a little while later.

It’s been over six months since my beloved B went to be with Jesus, and I’ve done plenty of my own aching and searching. And every time I’ve been at my absolute lowest, laden with grief and consumed by tears and unanswered questions, my Jesus has met me there… and I’ve seen it for myself. Hope. That promise that He has won and death has been overcome through His victory on the cross, and that He truly does make beauty from ashes in His timing. The extent of it all I may never fully know until I reach Heaven myself, with a new body and perspective and God’s Son standing before me, wiping away my every tear with His nail pierced hands and reminding me that it was His guidance and love for me that brought me through the hard.

But some glimpses of it, I see every day – through children with such resilience that they can giggle and act out plays and play jokes on each other when the pain of losing their father still runs so deep. Through family and friends who care and bring meals and offer to babysit and make the load a little lighter when I need it most.  Through Starbucks gift cards sent through the mail just when I need a little "pick me up". Through rainbows and sunsets and walks on the beach.  Through early morning and late night quiet when I open the Scriptures and see His love for me, and read story after story of Bible characters who faced their own hard, whom we admire today as we see themes of hope woven throughout their lives.

 

And so, this hope is like manna – that every day “what is it?” mystery of sustenance that the Israelites received long ago during their wilderness period. His grace and strength gets me through each day, usually with just enough for that given day. And when I lay my head on my pillow at night, I can be convinced that it will be there for tomorrow. Just enough for each day, I remember. I don’t have to know how to handle more than He gives me for that certain day, and when I try to take on too much, it all goes awry anyway. Like rotten manna.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know Who holds tomorrow. And I am convinced that His hope IS the anchor for my soul. And so I pray that moving forward, this little blog, as a window into my thoughts and our lives, would be a place of seeing the hope that only He can give when the dark of night is faced and the beauty of the morning sunrise is still yet to behold. There is hope to be found, and unexpected joy, even if it’s in little glimpses as we wait for God to fulfill His promise and make beauty from these ashes. Our pain is real and our story is messy. But I know the Author of hope and the Creator of beauty, and I’m clinging to Him for both as we continue to trudge forward.