It's back... What We're Reading Wednesday

I love to read. I love to discuss books I've read. And I feel like I never get enough reading time these days. So, in the hopes of continuing to find and discuss reading time, I'm starting this back up on my blog. This was originally inspired by my friend Brooke, and I love the idea.
So this week, here's what we're reading:

I just started this in a book club online, and it's like a breath of fresh air. It's reminding me that God created me to reflect His beauty in specific ways, and even when days feel the most mundane they could be, life itself is still art.


And, this one... A beautiful story of loss and hope by a previous American Idol contestant and worship leader. I'm just starting this one too, but it's already been an encouragement in helping me remember I'm not alone in my journey of loss.

And as for the kiddos:


H is just finishing up this one for a school book report, and loved it! Went right along with her crazy big imagination. :)

 
L is a huge Magic Tree House fan! He flies through these books these days! And last but not least...


N does a book theme for his homeschool time each week, and this week it's on this fun book!

Would love to hear what you and your littles are reading! Feel free to comment, and happy Wednesday! :)

Anchored.

I’ve got this current obsession with anchors. I wear anchor designs, decorate with anchor themes, and can’t get enough of a couple songs with anchor references. And it’s all because of this verse:

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure." -Hebrews 6:19a

An anchor... connects a drifting boat to steady hard ground.

An anchor... prohibits much drifting.

An anchor... is used for support.

An anchor... attaches moveable objects to immoveable.

An anchor strengthens.

And my anchor? Well, it’s my hope. That secure that provides a foundation for my soul in the midst of my insecure. This world is temporary, fleeting, and filled with emotional highs and lows that literally drain me at the end of each day. I need Someone that is strong, does not change, will not allow me to drift with the current tide, and that I can lean on for strength.

And that’s my Jesus. The answer for every broken heart longing for healing. The bedrock my faith is grounded in when I don’t understand the ever changing world around me. The source of my hope that will not and cannot change.
 
And the best news about that?

All that He is, He is for you.

Just a shell

We were there once again at the grave side. Another month had passed. I’ve tried to visit once a month, but don’t bring the kids as often. Especially before the grave marker went in, there was nothing to see but dirt, weeds, and bugs. Nothing pretty about that, and not really where any of us long to hang out. Yet life has brought us there… to this place of seeing the ugly all around, but always longing to find some beauty in it.

So this morning, like in all of the other mornings that have come before and come after, I chose to focus on the hope that we have in the promise of the resurrection, and not in what I currently see. The words almost leap from my mouth as I try to help the kids understand it too. “Guys,” I say through my tears, “this is not Daddy. This is not where he is. We celebrate his life here, we remember how amazing he was and we cry because we miss him so much. But all this ugly – this is not him, and this is not where his story ends. It’s where his old body lies, but he doesn’t need that body any more. He’s perfectly happy and been given victory with a beautiful new forever that has begun in Heaven.”

"It’s just like an old shell you find at the beach,” I continue to explain. “The sea creature that used to live in that shell no longer needs it. He’s happily found a new home that fits him better now.”

And right then, my L comes running over holding these two little snail shells.

He gets it. And as I look around the cemetery, this ugly place filled with weeds and bugs and buried corpses, I realize that there are these little snail shells everywhere. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, with nothing inside, reminding me that day and every day I visit that this is not all there is to life, and of the beauty to come. A reminder that there are glimpses of beauty that can always be found when I’m dedicated to looking for them.

I honestly don’t know how anyone gets through something like this without the assurance of Heaven. I cling to that assurance every moment of every day. I long for the day when I myself no longer need this current shell of a body, complete with its constant sicknesses and weaknesses and fears. But until then, this frail body forces me to turn to my fully strong Savior for its strength. 

Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.

But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain. -1 Corinthians 15:51-58

Ambidextrous.

Ambidextrous. The word is defined as being “able to use both hands equally well.” I don’t know if I fit that exact definition when it comes to the word “equally,” but I’ve always been quite proud of my ability to do things with both hands. To use that as an adjective that describes me in any of those "get to know you" games. Though I’m a left-handed writer, I learned as a child to eat with my fork in my right hand, so as to avoid awkwardly bumping the elbow of the person sitting next to me at the table. As a schoolgirl, I got sick of looking for the one pair of lefty scissors in the bin during art class, and have cut with my right hand for as long as I can remember. And though I’m not all that stunning to watch in a game of baseball, I catch much better with the glove in my right hand.

It was not until recently that I have seen the meaning and the challenge of that very word in spiritual matters. I’m reading an incredible book called A Grace Revealed, which is the sequel to the very best book on grief that I’ve laid my eyes on, entitled A Grace Disguised. A Grace Revealed is all about the story of redemption that our Father is constantly writing.  In the book, a spiritual hermit from long ago named Abba Theodore is quoted:

     “This power we also can spiritually acquire, if by making a   
      right and proper use of those things which are fortunate, and
      which seem to be on the “right hand,” as well as those which
      are unfortunate and as we call it “on the left hand.”

You see, God is able to use both prosperous times and times of adversity to advance His purposes. He remains faithful and true throughout both, working through both prosperity and adversity to show His redeeming power. But the secret, I’m finding, is in something that is much harder for me to submit to – being spiritually ambidextrous. Being willing to surrender to both the good and the bad, the easy and the hard, and letting Him develop me into a person who can go through both still willing to trust and obey Him.

         “We shall then be ambidextrous, when neither abundance nor want
     affects us, and when the former does not entice us to the
     luxury of a dangerous carelessness, while the latter does not
     draw us to despair, and complaining; but when, giving thanks to
     God in either case alike, we gain one and the same advantage
     out of good and bad fortune.”
            (John Cassian, in The Conferences of John Cassian: The Wisdom of the Dessert)

I'm convicted.  It looks like I’ve got a whole lot of submitting and praising to do to be able to use both sets of circumstances equally well for the glory of God.

Just something I’m chewing on today…

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.

 

Guest posting today...

So appreciate all your sweet comments of encouragement after my last post and blog restart. I'm still trying to figure out how to juggle writing with all the other demands I've had on me since the school year started. Today, I'm actually over at Susan Merrill's blog sharing a little about that juggling act. Here's an excerpt...

Almost seven months ago, I entered the world and label of being a “single mom.” I had been blessed with a wonderful husband of almost nine years who shared so much of a parenting partnership with me. From the time we brought home our first child from the hospital over seven years ago, he shared in the feedings, sleepless nights, sick days, and bedtime routines. I know some might say that I was royally spoiled to have a husband who was so hands-on and involved, and I probably would have to agree. But along with the grief that comes with the suddenness of his passing away, that’s definitely made the transition to doing it all alone so much harder...

 

You can read all of this post on Susan's blog here. Thanks for stopping by, and have a great weekend!

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.

Finally...an update.

It's been two months since I've posted on here. A lot has happened since then, that I haven't been able to find the right words to share through my tears - until my dear friend Rachel asked me to write a guest post on her blog.   So here is my story...

When God began to burden my heart to help care for widows and orphans back in 2010, I had no idea that a few years down the road, I would be looking right in the mirror at a widow, and in the very next room of my home, at fatherless children. Back then, I felt a dramatic urge to jump in to orphan care with both feet, wanting to let Him use me to bring hope to people worlds away from my own. His timing seemed slow to me, but I was convinced that it was right. After becoming involved in various orphan care ministries, my wonderful husband Bryan and I knew it was the right time to begin our own family journey to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia. All of our paperwork was completed and sent over there in July 2012.

Oh, how my heart began to care for our future daughter as the months went by, even though we knew nothing about her, we would probably still have quite a wait ahead of us, and nothing is guaranteed with adoption. Our children began praying for their little sister almost every night. The Lord was blessing us with good health and bringing in all of the necessary funds needed to accept a referral when the time came. All of the pieces seemed to be fitting in place to open our home and our arms to a little girl in need of a family’s love.

And then February 26 of this year hit, when my amazing husband unexpectedly went to be with Jesus, and life, as we knew it, seemed to crumble underneath us. Adoption, along with other things that are close to my heart, now began to seem like dead end dreams. And yet, I’ve had to choose to believe that they cannot be as they currently seem, for I know God never wastes our passion or our pain. So here I sit, humbled and feeling a bit helpless to be among the widows, accepting the help, when I wanted to be the one giving the help to other widows. I head to the mailbox each day and open card after card offering hope to my now fatherless children, reminding us that our Heavenly Father cares more about us than we will ever know this side of Heaven, and that we are never forgotten by Him.

There is so much that hurts, and that I don’t understand about our current situation, and about my Savior. What I do know, though, is that He is caring for us, and He is using others around us to show His love as we begin this difficult trek down a rough road. The kids and I are being held in the palm of His hand as we walk through our days on this earth, and my sweet Bryan is now being physically embraced in His arms as he takes in the amazing wonder of Heaven. Eternity is real, and the hope of it gets me out of bed each morning. Our family, though small amidst a world of needs and pain, has a story that He will continue to write. I have no idea what the future holds and can tend to become fearful and overwhelmed when I look too far ahead. But I know my Savior has got me today, and I have to remind myself, sometimes moment by moment, just to rest in that reassuring and everlasting truth.

“The Lord…upholds the widow and the fatherless…” Psalm 146:9

You can see more current info about our family on Rachel's blog here. And yes, I plan to be back here blogging more regularly in coming days. This blog will be under construction in coming days too - but it's not going anywhere!  Stay tuned...