God Is Good...Really?

A few weeks ago Jackson went missing.  We couldn't find him anywhere.  He had wandered off.  An army of us went out looking for him, and with every step I took I found myself praying, screaming out his name, and wondering if this was it. If this would be the "big one".  You know, the story that defines my life, the detour from my set path, the heartache that would either drive me to God or away from God.  Because I was wrapped up in pursuit of my son, I did not track how many minutes went by from the moment we realized Jackson was missing to the moment my eyes caught a glimpse of him way off in the distance.  I was told it was somewhere around 18-20 minutes. When Joel and I found Jackson, a huge wave of relief came over me.  I couldn't even walk.  I had to sit down.  I needed to breathe.  Adrenaline and fear, desperate pleas to God and terror, nearly sucked the life right out of me.  Touching, holding, and kissing my son was surreal.  And I thanked God with a shaky voice and shaky hands.  Over and over and over again, gratitude and thanksgiving spilled from my lips like a waterfall.  Thank you, God!  You are so good!

Later, when I was quiet and alone and had time to think and recall the events of the day, I wondered "what if".  It was bound to happen.  I couldn't help but consider what would life be like if I hadn't found Jackson?  What if he had been taken by someone?  What if he had been hit by a car?  What if...?  It isn't healthy to sit and stew on the "what if's", but I think the biggest question I had that haunted me was "What if...something bad had happened...would I still believe that God is good?"

This is the question I have been pondering for several weeks now.  It is easy to say "God is good" when life is good, or we get the answer to prayer we have been hoping for, or we get the primo parking spot at the mall, or the sun is shining, or right after we've booked tickets for vacation, or in that first sip of our favorite Starbucks indulgence.  Mmmm...God is good.  I wonder if my faith, my view of God, is perhaps a little out of whack.  I wonder if we get a little too narcissistic?  The minute one little kink in our plan arises we suddenly think the world is coming to an end.  And I wonder about those individuals who have truly experienced tragedy, and somehow, someway, have been able to utter through tears and pain that "God is good", know something about God that I don't know yet.

For days I was unable to acknowledge God's goodness because I doubted my ability to find him good if Jackson had not been found.  I honestly wondered if I could still believe God to be good had I lost my baby boy.  Then, one morning as I was reading the Word and meditating on all of these crazy thoughts I'd been having, I came across a Psalm.

Psalm 30:8-10

To you, O Lord, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy: "What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit?  Will the dust praise you?  Will it proclaim your faithfulness?  Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me; O Lord, be my help."

It isn't that God's goodness is contingent upon circumstances.  He is good regardless of which direction my life goes.  I believe that my happy ending in finding Jackson when he was lost and nowhere to be found, was God's mercy in my life.  I can't define it.  I don't deserve it.  And I can't explain it away to someone who's pain and grief of a lost child are with them daily.  For whatever reason, only known to God, he extended mercy to me, to my family, on that day.  In the grand scheme of our story, there would be no gain from this devastation.  That doesn't mean that difficulties will never come my way, or that I am somehow excluded from the harshness of life, but this was not it. This would not be my "big one"...my one defining moment.

God had mercy.

One of the many things that I love about Psalms is that there is always an upward focus.  Regardless of circumstances, the writer looks to God, places complete trust in God and gives all praise and thanksgiving to God.  Our hope, no matter what we may be going through, is that God's goodness will see us through anything and everything that this sinful world throws our way.

The final verses of Psalm 30 says this:

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever.

In plenty and in want, there is hope and assurance that God will take our wailing and turn it into a beautiful dance, a garment of joy and unending songs of his goodness, graciousness, mercy, and love.

Yes, God really is good.  Sometimes it doesn't feel that way, but he is.  He sees our pain, our challenges, our joys, and sorrows, and through them all, he is good.

Everything I Need

Sometimes I want something new.  Sometimes I want lots of new somethings.  Sometimes I don't even know why, there is no real necessity, but I just gotta have new stuff. I'm not going to project my weaknesses onto all of you, so I'll just assume that this is something that I alone struggle with.  (Although, something tells me that there are others who have to battle out the urge to splurge too.)

This weekend I received an e-mail from one of my favorite shopping boutiques.  Forty percent off of already marked down sale items...this weekend only.  Something leaped within me.  I need.  I want.  I must have...  These thoughts continued to monopolize my mind all through Friday.  And then again on Saturday.  I started scheming and planning out my attack on Ann Taylor Loft.  When could I steal away a few hours to shop till I dropped?  How could I finagle the finances to satisfy the consumer craving of my soul?  It seemed the only day that would remotely work out in my favor (and I would have to really squeeze it into our already over-stuffed schedule) was Sunday.  Late Sunday.  With a twinge of conviction tugging deep, deep down in my soul, I set my sights on a Sunday afternoon shopping spree.

Then, because I have to believe the Holy Spirit - who is forever looking out for my very best and could see I wasn't acknowledging His subtle nudgings - decided to speak up a little louder.  In my quiet time Sunday morning I read Psalm 23.

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

The first verse stopped me in my tracks.  I shall not want.

The Message translation says this: God, my Shepherd!  I don't need a thing.

Gentle, but clear, I was reminded of the abundance I have received from the Lord.  Yes, I have everything I need.  Whatever void I was feeling - emotional, spiritual or simply materialistic lust - would never be filled will a new blouse, a new sweater or a new pair of jeans.  That void, that urge to splurge, was a soul calling out for God to come and satisfy in a way that only he can.

Without shame or condemnation I turned the direction of my focus on the Shepherd, the One, who has given me everything that I need, everything that a girl could possibly want (and then some), and poured out a heart of thanksgiving and gratitude.  Rather than catch the final hours of the sale, I found rest in the peace and contentment of God's constant and complete provision.

He is everything I need, even when forty percent off is desperately calling my name.

Hide Me

For the past few weeks I've been working my way through Beth Moore's Bible study Breaking Free.  With each new day of homework a new challenge is laid out before me.  Am I willing to delve deep - to the most inner parts of my heart and soul - allowing God to open up old wounds, new hurts and daily struggles in order to walk away from this ten week study fully embracing freedom and grace?  It's not been an easy task.  I find myself longing to run and hide; hide from people, hide from uncomfortable situations, hide from the truth inside.  However, each time I feel the temptation to run in the opposite direction of true freedom and liberation, I sense the Holy Spirit gently pulling me back and whispering words of comfort to my soul.  He is urging me to stop running from the junk hidden behind walls of false peace and protection, but rather run and hide in him.  As he reveals those areas in my life that are holding me back from fearless abandonment, he also reveals to me the shadow of his wings, the covering of his presence and the peace of his protection.  There is no fear in deliverance because God is always there to watch over and hide me in his shadow.

Psalm 17:8

Keep me as the apple of your eye, hide me in the shadow of your wings.

Psalm 32:7

You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.

Psalm 91:1

He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High will abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

Wherever you are in your journey, remember, God is with you.  His eye is forever upon you.  When your feet are two steps away from running as far from your mountain as they can possibly take you, remind yourself that there is no better place to run and hide than the shadow of the One who loves you more than life itself.  His wings will hold you firm and secure, and he will protect you from unnecessary harm.  He will give you the grace and strength to face your biggest fears and conquer your mountain once and for all.  Run to him...hide in him.  Know freedom in the secret places of your soul.  Find refuge in the shadow of the Almighty.

Mr. Amy

First, I just want to commend and acknowledge the working moms out there.  I have always had the utmost respect for you and all that you do, but now that I am working (part time, mind you), that respect has doubled...no...tripled!  How you do it all, I don't know.  You are the true super heros, in my opinion. As we are working on getting into a nice groove with our new schedule, I'm afraid my poor blog has received the short end of the stick.  It pains me.  Truly, it does.  As I lay my head on my pillow each night recounting all the activities of the day, the one thing that looms overhead is how negligent I've been with this blog.  I'm still working on finding balance.

While I don't have the brain cells to articulate what God's been doing in my heart and mind over the past week, I thought I'd jot down a few of the highlights:

• Allergies to cockroaches are nothing to laugh about.
• Sometimes empathy is all you can give.
• There is no sitting down on the job when you work at a preschool - there is no time to sit down.
• My son calls me "Teacher Mommy".
• I have surprised myself at how much I can actually do in a 24 hour period.
• God's grace truly is sufficient, and his power is made perfect in my weakness.
• Waking up before the rest of the world to be in the Word and pray, as difficult as it is some days, pays off when someone asks for prayer, and there is a pool of spiritual strength to draw from.
• God isn't expecting perfection, just willingness to try.
• I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
• And finally, I have grown quite fond of being called "Mr. Amy" by the little three-year-old boy in my Friday class.  It comes out more as a "Mith-ter Amy", and my heart melts.

The lunches have been packed and prepared for the rest of the week, book bags are sitting by the door, clothes set out, and the coffee pot ready to brew at 5:15 am.  Mr. Amy will be getting back to work in the morning, ready to take on a new week.

September

September is one of those crazy, transitional months that I look forward to all through August and then panic and stress out when "the first" finally arrives.  I can't wait to get back into the swing of routine, shuffling kids out the door for school, and the pre-mature glimpses of the approaching fall season.  At the same time, I worry that I'll forget something (like someone's school supplies or my mind, perhaps), spend half my day running late for the next thing, get to work with that unprepared feeling, and never get enough sleep.  It's the little unforseen bugs in the system that keep me up at night.  Usually, by October, we've worked out all the kinks, but until then, I'm barely hanging on by a thread. Needless to say, amidst all the transition and figuring out of schedules, new routines and such, I have discovered a trick for survival.  I have found something that warms my every fiber from the inside out, calms my frantic nerves, and comforts me when I wake up at 4:30 am trying to plan out my day.  September calls for a heaping dose of Psalms and Starbucks.

Psalms speaks to my soul, reminds me of God's faithfulness, his provision for all of our needs (no matter how big or small), and his unfailing love in spite of my failure to live up to my own expectations.  Starbucks makes me smile with their soy caramel machiattos and pumpkin spice lattes.  They remind me of how glorious fall can be with the changing colors, cool, crisp mornings, my favorite sweaters, and Notre Dame football.

September will not overwhelm me.  I will soar above the chaos with Psalms and Starbucks.  They will see me through all this transition, and October will roll right in like an enormous pumpkin on my doorstep.

This is September.  This is how I survive.

What about you?

Verdict In: Not Guilty

John 8:32 You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

When I was a little girl growing up in Kenya, my parents would pack up the family twice a year, and we would head off to a week-long missions retreat. During the day, my parents would sit through business meetings and sessions while the kids played or had some sort of structured activity time.  In the evening, we would all come together after dinner for a church-type service.

I loved going to our mission retreats.  They were truly the highlight of my year.  Whether it was the anticipation of going to the beach for a week, or seeing my MK friends who went to boarding school, or the super-cute MK boy who lived in Malawi (and all the girls swooned); there was so much to look forward to.  However, along with my giddy excitement came a nagging sense of guilt and fear.  Not only would I be seeing the cute boy from Malawi, but I would also be seeing lots of missionary Aunts and Uncles.  I loved my surrogate family very much; however, I lived in a perpetual state of fear that God was whispering in their ears all the bad thoughts I'd had, or the fact that I neglected to do my devotions for over a month, or the times I had lied to my mom and dad throughout the year.  They were about the most godly people I had ever known, and I was certain they were going to call me out, read my mail, and the true ugliness of my soul would be exposed.

This never happened, of course.  The only time someone had a word from the Lord for me was to encourage and uplift, never to condemn and judge.  Still, the fear was always there.

Interestingly, I still struggle with guilt.  Whether or not I've done anything wrong, I am always waiting with baited breath for someone to come and call me on the carpet for all my sins.  I have discovered that I am a victim of condemnation...and that has never been God's intention or plan for my life.

Paul tells us that there is no condemnation for those of us who are in (who know and are known by) Christ Jesus.  No condemnation.  No guilt.  As far as God is concerned, our slate has been washed clean, and we can stand before him blameless.  We are in Christ Jesus.

Jesus is truth.  Jesus is the embodiment of all that is right and holy.  If we are in him, and if we know him, then we know truth.  Truth sets us free.  And the truth is that God sent his Son to die on a cross and conquer death, so that our sins could be covered and forgiven.  The truth is that we are sinful people, in spite of being new creations, but because Jesus is in us, we receive a pardon for our past, present, and future.

Just as Jesus is the truth, he also reveals the truth.  This has been a powerful lesson for me.  I know Jesus.  Therefore, I can go to him, in whatever state I am in, and ask him to lead me and guide me in the truth.  I love how David articulated his plea for the truth in Psalm 139:

"Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.  See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

If my mind is cloudy, and I am feeling the weight of oppressive guilt and shame, all I need to do is call on God.  Ask him to search my heart, invite him in to my thoughts, and allow him to lead me on the path that will bring him glory.  As he reveals his truth (not mine) to me, then I experience freedom in him.

If I have stumbled, then he gently lets me know, and he will guide me to repentance.  If I am simply walking along with undue guilt and shame, then he will bring clarity and assurance.  Either way, I am free.

The fact of the matter is those of us who are in Christ Jesus are no longer guilty.  Do we still sin?  Yes.  But true conviction, brought by the Holy Spirit, should not choke us up in guilty chains.  Rather, conviction of sin should motivate us to Godly sorrow and a hunger for repentance.  Guilt is not from God.  Shame and condemnation are not from God.

The verdict is in, my friends.  And it reads, "NOT GUILTY!"

*For more on this subject, I would highly encourage you to read the book How People Grow, by Cloud and Townsend (authors of Boundaries).

And So We Lick Our Wounds

Sydney was beside herself.  As I was pulling away from the carpool pick-up line I couldn't help but wonder who this little monster was in the back seat of my car.  She had asked me if we could go to Starbucks for a girls' day, and I had said no.  I warned her before I dropped her off at school that this Monday was not a "girls' day Monday".  Fair warning as far as I was concerned.  Either Sydney forgot our pre-school conversation, or she was attempting to talk me into changing my mind.  When she realized that there would be no argument from me, she lost it.  I was the meanest mommy in the world...for 20 (long) minutes. Several hours later, and after a little bedroom time for Sydney, we sat down and had a little talk.  I asked her what she was feeling?  We started talking about her day, her friends, and her math speed drill.  The more I pressed her about the speed drill I could see tears welling up in her eyes.  She hadn't finished hers in time and felt embarrassed in front of her friends, not to mention upset with herself for what she perceived as failure.  The tears grew into sobs as she continued to open up to me.

I knew in the car that Sydney's outrage was not really about me, even though at the time it was directed towards me.  I knew there was something else going on deep inside her and the only way she knew how to deal with her self-loathing was to react rather than look inward.  It was an easier way to go for her.  Rather than deal with the painful feelings, she tried to put her pain on me.

On the other hand, one can never tell when Brooklyn has been hurt or offended.  It's not until she runs away and hides from us that we realize something, or someone, has upset her.  Sometimes she simply disappears, without a peep.  When Brooklyn has been found she is usually curled up in a ball, whimpering in sorrow.  It takes incredible patience and a gentle hand to get her to open up and express what is truly bothering her.  Rather than speak up when the offense has taken place, Brooklyn prefers to withdraw, run away, and hide from the very people who love her and want to help her.

As I was thinking about my girls and how they deal with their hurts, I was reminded of how we, as adults, do the same thing.  We may not throw our bodies on the floor in protest or let others see our ugly sides, however, in our own way we either lash out or run and hide when someone has hurt or offended us.

Sometimes we say mean things to people.  Sometimes we call them on the phone and give them a good earful.  We feel justified.  We are going to have our say, regardless of the other person's feelings.  Sadly, the end of this scenario is usually pain on both sides, and a broken relationship.  The reaction to hurt brings more hurt.  Rather than looking inside at our own brokenness we look at everybody else and blame them.  It is too painful to face the real problem, in the immediate.  However, the consequence of never facing the reality and root of our pain is a pain that will live with us for the rest of our lives.

Sometimes we simply run away and hide.  We pull a "Brooklyn".  We've been offended.  We've been hurt.  We feel overlooked or perhaps insecure about our ranking in a relationship.  Rather than speak up and say something, we distance ourselves to the point of isolation.  Instead of choosing vulnerability, which hurts for a brief moment in time, we walk through life never knowing the power and fulfillment of true relationship.  We are afraid of being abandoned, so we abandon.  We walk away from the very people (imperfect and flawed, to be sure) who love us and care about us.

We are lying to ourselves if we believe that the deep, dark issues inside of us will eventually go away if we either find the perfect friend, family, church, or job.  If we never learn to stop and take a closer look within, we will forever be attacking and withdrawing and sadly, never growing.  If we want to grow, and I believe we really do, then we must put a stop to the way we handle pain.

The pain we feel, if we will allow ourselves to feel it, can actually lead us and guide towards healing.  It's hard work.  It requires risk and trust and reaching out and vulnerability, acceptance of our role in the pain and willingness to confront our fears.  When we read or hear what healing involves we choke up, we resist, we justify, and if we're not ready to go there yet, we run away and lick our wounds.  Because this seems a much easier option.

Cloud and Townsend in their book "How People Grow" write:

"Bad pain comes from repeating old patterns and avoiding the suffering it would take to change them, because many times people suffer because of their own character faults.  Bad pain is basically wasted pain.  It is the pain we go through to avoid the good pain of growth that comes from pushing through.  It is the wasted pain we encounter as we try to avoid grief and true hurt that needs to be worked through."

As harsh as this may seem, and going deep into our pain can be brutal, there is a heaping load of grace, love and forgiveness that God pours out on us as we take this step.  He reveals his presence through his Word, but most importantly he reveals his character through fellow believers walking the path along with us.  We are never alone.  God's word promises he will never leave us nor forsake us.  I believe that includes his people, too.

Here is yet another growth step: will we lick our wounds or risk exposure of our wounds so they may heal?

Simple...but not easy.

Sand

As I anticipated my return home from vacation I could feel the creative juices swooshing in my head.  Sitting still while the waves of the Atlantic crashed at my feet, new insights poured into my mind like the ocean water filling every sandy nook and cranny of the warm, dry beach where I perched like a hungry seagull.  I have often said that I find myself again when I am at the beach.  Salty air, sunshine, time with family, piles of shells collected in a make-shift bucket,  and the sound of the ocean faithfully restore clarity and peace of mind.

Sydney asked me what sand is made of.  I explained to her that sand is simply rock, shells, and coral that have been crushed into tiny pieces by pounding waves.  This process takes years and years and years.  The constant jostling and ripping from the weight of ruthless waters breaks apart these hard objects  and turns them into the soft sand we love to sink our toes into.

I'm home now, but my heart is still processing the simple lessons of the sea.

Are we not all a little bit like the tiny grains of sand on the ocean floor?  We get knocked down and crushed by the relentless waves of hurt, personal pain, and fear.   Shame and condemnation break us to pieces and leave us scattered along the beaches of life.

And then God comes in.  God restores.  God makes something beautiful out of our sharp edges and disfigured forms.  He offers grace where once we were pounded with condemnation.  He ministers mercy where once we were hammered with judgment.  He softens our hearts through the pain...through every wave that threatens to destroy.

Grace has brought me back to my little spot on the sand with the hot sun kissing my shoulders and the foamy broken waves tickling my feet.  Grace has washed over the condemnation, and grace has set me free.  Grace is softening my hard corners and smoothing out my rough edges.

Freedom

I can't really claim to be an expert of sorts.  I'm not a theologian.  I'm not a parenting guru.  Until recently, I've managed to kill all plant life in my keep - no kidding.  (I'm just thrilled that tiny green strawberry buds are peeking out from our little garden this year.  This...this...is a miracle.)  I'm not known for my cooking skills, and I'm a newbie frugalista.  All in all, I'm not that impressive.  

However, I do have a few thoughts now and then, and today I'm thinking about freedom.

What kind of freedom?

Not freedom to go "girls gone wild" on the world.  I'm not endorsing irresponsibility.  Not Fourth of July and fireworks displays (although highly entertaining and lovely).  And not the "Free Love" hippie movement of the 60's.  The freedom I'm talking about is freedom in Christ.  Freedom to live out my life in the way that God created and designed for me to live.  Freedom to love.

I Corinthians 10:23-32

"Everything is permissible" - but not everything is beneficial.  "Everything is permissible" - but not everything is constructive. Nobody should seek his own good, but the good of others.  Eat everything sold in the meat market without raising questions of conscience, for, "The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it."  If some unbeliever invites you to a meal and you want to go, eat whatever is put before you without raising questions of conscience.  But if anyone says to you, "This has been offered in sacrifice," then do not eat it, both for the sake of the man who told you and for conscience' sake - the other man's conscience, I mean, not yours.  For why should my freedom be judged by another's conscience?  If I take part in the meal with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of something I thank God for?  So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.  Do not cause anyone to stumble, whether Jews, Greeks or the church of God.

What this means to me is that I choose to do certain things and abstain from certain things, not because I am afraid that God will smite me dead for being ungodly, but for the benefit of my brothers and sisters.  Other's salvation and well-being should be more important to me than what I do or don't do.  And I deeply long to live this out with a sweet spirit.  God has given us freedom, and if we embrace it fully, we may become the most irresistible people on the planet.

There is no room for selfishness in this kind of freedom.  This is what makes following Christ so challenging, not all the rules and regulations that seem to bubble up when people hear the word "Christianity".  Following Christ means we lay down our own rights for the rights of others.  Treating our neighbors, our friends, our families, our enemies, the way in which we want to be treated.  That's some tough stuff when you get down to it.  It means I don't live for myself, but I live to love and serve others.  And it is only by the grace of God that I can do this at all.

Fear tells us that we don't need God, because God will only tie us down and make us miserable.  "Needing" God is weakness, and we don't want to be weak.  So, we wrap up in thick layers of self-sufficiency.

Fear tells us that the only way to stay on God's good side is to follow a man-made mandate on how to live a life pleasing to God.  If you step outside of this moral code you are being selfish and worldly.  So, we envelop ourselves in belief systems that give us do's and don'ts that promise to ensure our eternal security.  (Galatians 5:4 "You who are trying to be justified by law have been alienated from Christ; you have fallen away from grace.") This type of "Christianity", by the way, is the very thing that turns so many unbelievers off to God.

Fear breeds extremes - one direction or another - and neither extreme does anyone any good.  However, freedom - true freedom - produces a fruit that even the most hardened sceptic can't ignore.  Galatians 5:22 "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control."

True holy living, I believe, is clinging completely to Jesus.  Holding him close and allowing him access to hold us closely to his character.  Holy living is walking in the freedom and beauty of God's most precious law: the law of love.  If we could only capture in our hearts and minds what this really, really means, there would be no doubt that following Christ is the only satisfying way to live.

"How little people know who think that holiness is dull.  When one meets the real thing...it is irresistable.  If even 10% of the world's population had it, would not the whole world be converted and happy before a year's end?" - C.S. Lewis

I want to be irresistable.  I want to be the real thing.  I want to take the freedom that God has given to me, by grace, and walk in it with a sober awareness that this freedom to love is the same freedom that will lead others to Christ.

Friday's Free Advice - Oops...I Did It Again!

I've had better weeks.  This was definitely not one of them.  

I make mistakes.  In fact, I make a lot of mistakes.  If I were to think too long and hard on all the mistakes I've made this past week alone, I'm afraid I'd end up drowning in defeat.  I've made big ones and little ones.  Some of them I didn't even realize were blunders until, upon further introspection, realized that I messed up bad.

I hate that I make mistakes.  I so desperately want to make the right decisions, think with a sound mind, and operate my home with sweetness and grace.  Sadly, I can't keep up with my good intentions.  No sooner am I infused with a fresh "can do" attitude, then I'm slapped back a few steps with "what were you thinking?  What a mistake!"

Please tell me I'm not the only one who struggles with this!

Since I'm pretty certain that I am not alone when it comes to mistake making, I'm going to share with you how I deal with my mishaps and blunders.  Today's Friday's Free Advice: The common cure for the common mistake - forgiveness.

First, acknowledge that you've made a mistake.  Conviction - not shame - tugs at our hearts when we've acted out of our selfish nature and not the nature of God.  Accepting the conviction and realizing that we've done something wrong is the first step to overcoming.

Second, confess it.  Tell God what's going on.  Get it out.  Be real.  You don't need an M.Div. to tell God what you're feeling or what you're struggling with.  In your own words, tell God what's happening.

Third, ask for forgiveness.  Once you've unburdened your heart with the junk going on inside of you, simply ask God to forgive.  He will.  Immediately.

And finally, let it go.

Psalm 130-11-13

For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.  As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.

I've had to do this a lot this week.  Thankfully, God's grace transcends my humanity.  He knows my heart; he knows the intent is pure, but the vessel is broken.  He forgives and allows me the freedom to get up and try - over and over and over - again.

Happy Friday...make the most of your day...and don't let your mistakes hold you back from walking in the freedom God has for you!

Emotional Writing

One of the things I have had to learn in my blogging venture is that it is never wise to write a post in an emotional state.  Whether it be hormones, a bad hair day, or just plain old irritation, writing under such duress is never a good idea.  I would call it "emotional writing".  For some, pulling out a pint of Ben & Jerry's or spending money they don't have might bring a fleeting sense of satisfaction.  For me...it is writing out "how I really feel" that calms my emotions.  Unfortunately, what ends up happening is I look back at what I've written and cringe.  Only once have I actually posted one of my emotional writing rants, and ended up pulling it an hour later realizing that, as justified as I may have been in my feelings, sharing them with the world was not a wise choice. Today, however, I am making an exception to that rule.  Today I am going to let my unedited emotions break loose and share from the depths of my heart what I believe to be God's desire and calling for women (men, too, to some degree).  And also, what I believe to be God's calling on my life.

Isaiah 61:1-3

"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.  He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of despair.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor."

(I could have easily highlighted the entire paragraph - it's so good!)  Matthew Henry's Concise Commentary on the Bible describes this passage as a picture of the coming Messiah, his character and his office.  When I read these words, I am instantly drawn to the message and proclamation of freedom.  Freedom from the past, freedom from the constraints of sin in our lives, freedom from sorrow, despair, and oppression.  Jesus came so that we could have life, and live it to the fullest.  His plan for each one of us is as unique as the person we are.  Not one individual on this planet is like any other.  We are all fearfully and wonderfully made.  Therefore, our futures, God's plans for us and the way he chooses to work in our lives is going to be tailor made...and absolutely wonderful.

Freedom.  How I love that word.  I love the liberation I feel when I know in my heart that I am right in the center of God's will...his perfect plan for me.  No one can take that away.  There will be those out there that will try.  They will believe with all their hearts that God has somehow revealed to them some hidden secret to knowing God's plan for every person, or that somehow there is one specific path that God expects all of us to walk.  (Before I go any further I feel that I should point out that I am not talking about the fundamental truths of salvation.  There is only one way to God, there is only one way to salvation.  Not many will follow because the cross of Christ will be too much to bear.  Yet, doesn't the Word say, "my yoke is easy and my burden is light"?)

Back to the emotional writing...

Paul says in Galatians 5:1 "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery."

So here is what I believe to be God's desire for women, and the role we play in this life:  First and foremost, love God, seek God, study his word, know him, draw close to him, trust in him and obey.  Give him your life, your cares, your worries, your fears, your failures, your insecurities and your struggles.  When you draw close to God, when you are in his word, you will then know his voice.  As a woman, wife and mother I am of no use if I am off willy nilly doing my own thing, flittering about making choices and decisions without being rooted in the Word of God.  When I know the voice of God, and then obey his directives, then I am at peace and I am a blessing in every role I play.

Second, a friend of mine was sharing with me that she had been praying about a major decision that would effect her family.  It finally came down to choosing between what was good, and what was best.  Funny thing, though, God's best for her and her family is not God's best for me and my family.  When it comes down to making decisions (like being a stay-at-home mom, or working outside the home; homeschooling or sending your child to school; family values; husband and wife roles within the home (not referring to headship here); the way in which you choose to raise your children and how) God directs and leads each woman and family in the way that is best for them.  We are all called to be disciples of Christ and spread the good news, but how we do that is not going to be the same.  What God reveals to be his best for you, will not be what is his best for me.  I respect, love and and admire those who simply do what God has called them to do.  It is a beautiful thing to me to see women living out God's purpose for their lives.  It may looking nothing like mine, or we may have lots of similarities...either way, I find an obedient heart irresistible.

Joel and I made the decision that I would be a stay-at-home mom when we had children.  There was absolutely no twisting my arm on that one (anyone who knows me well would shout out "AMEN" to that).  I love being home with my little ones.  I take pleasure in it, and I am grateful that I am able to do this (not all moms can, and there should NO shame on a woman who, for financial or personal reasons, works outside the home).  At the same time, I am not simply a stay-at-home mom, I have other dreams, hopes and desires - all God-given - that I have yet to see unfold completely.  As my children are getting older, and becoming less and less dependent upon me, I am finding that opportunities to be involved in ministry outside my home have been opening up.  As I prayerfully consider each one, I do so realizing that my first priority is my family.  Not every opportunity is the right opportunity.  Still, I am excited to see how God is going to use my life, my gifts, my abilities and passions as time goes on.

As far as my children are concerned, I am raising all three (two girls and a boy) to first and foremost know God, love God and know his voice.  That is top priority.  Their salvation is more important to me than knowing how to bake muffins or having the top grade in their class.  What they choose to do with their lives is between them and God.  If Sydney wants to run for president, well, I'll campaign for her!  If both girls want to be homemakers, then I'll stand by their sides and mentor and love and encourage that.  If my son chooses to be a teacher, lawyer, missionary, pastor, doctor...whatever...I will support him.  Only God can reveal his perfect plan for their lives.  My job is to teach, train, discipline and guide them to become responsible, well-adjusted, independent adults who will love God with all their hearts, minds, souls and strength.

This is a long one, and I could keep writing on this topic.  Above all else, is it not the fruit of the Spirit that should be evident in each one of us?  You can do everything "right" in the eyes of man, or according to a Christian standard, but if the fruit of the Spirit is void in your life, then what's the point?  If you have felt that there is a standard that you haven't been able to reach or attain, is it possible you have been reaching for something God never intended for you to have?  If you have been bogged down in shame because your life hasn't turned out the way it was "supposed to", is it possible that you've been looking at someone else's "best" not realizing that God has a "best" just for you?  Too often I see women weighted down with so much guilt because they are trying to be something or someone God never intended for them to be.  Can I just say that God sent his son, Jesus, so you could be free to be you?  He didn't create you with all your idiosyncrasies and quirks, gifts and abilities, so that you would fulfill someone else's call.  He came to set the captives free (not just the sinners, but those bound up with insecurities, fear and condemnation).  Jesus came to set you free.  If you are struggling then he invites you to come and sit with him, talk to him and allow him to reveal his "best" for you.  When you know the truth, you will be set free.  Free to be you.

Galatians 5:22-23

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Against such things there is no law."

Hello, Rubber...Meet Road

The journey to find grace doesn't add up to anything if there aren't a few real life circumstances to move it from head to heart.  The challenge is not so much letting go and embracing freedom (which can be extremely difficult if you've been accustomed to seeing God as a great dictator up on his throne), but rather when the rubber meets the road - when all that God has revealed collides with the demands, stress, expectations and shame that the world out there starts throwing our way.  The safe and warm cocoon where healing took place is exchanged for a wounded world that does not extend grace and mercy the way God intended.   

And so, this is where I find myself today. 

When the rubber meets the road is when God's word lights our path.  Each time the enemy brings condemnation, we overcome by embracing truth.  Truth sets us free, but the only way we can know the truth is if we are seeking it out.  We may not understand our circumstances, and we may be up against a battle we are too weary to fight, but God promises to fight for us.  He promises us that he will never leave us.  God is looking at our hearts.  His demands are simple: trust and obey.  His yoke is easy, his burden light.  His expectations are not beyond our reach. 

Romans 8:1 "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."  None.  Not even a speck.  When we fully embrace him, we fully embrace the life of freedom he died to give us.  We are not dead in Christ, but we are alive.  

I needed to remember that today.  

When the rubber meets the road, the Word of God becomes the lamp to my feet, and the light for my path (Psalm 119:105).

Summer Give-Away Winner...& Going From Hero To Human

First...Congratulations to Tristan...winner of the Summer Reading Give-Away! Thank you to everyone who participated and shared your favorite must-reads.  I'm adding them to my list for sure!

*Sigh*

Let's just put it this way, when the day starts out with, "Mommy!  The tooth fairy forgot to put money under Sydney's pillow last night!" you know you are kicking the day off in a deficit.  Especially when the previous day was filled with super human moments of error.  Yesterday was Sydney's birthday, and things did not go as planned.  Here's a little rundown on the past 24 hours...

• I promised Sydney a scrumptious dinner and birthday cake as she danced her way to the car heading to school yesterday morning.  Two minutes later  Joel reminded me he had a wedding rehearsal in the evening.  He wouldn't be home.  (I knew this.  It's been in my day planner for weeks.  It totally slipped my mind.  Not a great moment in mommy history, knowing that when Sydney got home from school I would have to break the news to her that we were going to postpone her birthday dinner.)
• When Sydney received the news of my broken promise she proceeded to fall apart as though the world was coming to an end.  I took a deep breath and let her cry it out.  After an hour of listening to a very wounded child (she tends to live her life in a perpetual state of drama), I tried to console her.  Even though she had lost a tooth at school and got to wear a paper crown all day, the very fact that I broke my promise was enough to flush her whole day down the toilet.
• Since Joel was gone I suggested Burger King for dinner (I'm not a fan of fast food, but I needed to find a way to redeem the day).
• As we entered the garage to load up the car I heard a huge gasp behind me.  I turned to see Sydney spying a poster (that I had made for her Kindergarten graduation filled with pictures and artwork and cherished memories that was being stored in the garage because it was a treasure) wedged underneath my front tire.  It had slipped off the work table and I drove over it...completely oblivious, I swear to you.  The pain in her face was confirmed when she cried out, "How could you!  How could you!  You don't care about me, or my birthday, or my special poster!  This is the worst day ever!"
• I stood speechless.
• Before bed I apologized again.  I wanted to say, "Hey kiddo...I'm only human...get used to being disappointed with me."  But instead, I wrapped my arms around her and told her how blessed I am to have her as my girl.  How grateful I am that God gave her to me.  And how amazing my life is because she is a part of it.  I told her about the day she was born, how the sun shined and how I loved looking at her 6 pound, 12 ounce, 18 inch body.  How soft her skin was and tiny her toes were.  I could almost smell her fresh-from-the-womb downy hair and wrinkly skin.  Sydney was a beautiful baby, and I love watching her grow into a beautiful little girl.
• After this treasured moment with my birthday girl, she slipped her tooth under her pillow and smiled up at me.  Tomorrow would be a better day.

And so, today began with, "Mommy!  The tooth fairy forgot to put money under Sydney's pillow last night!"

Thankfully, Sydney knows that I am the tooth fairy, and after yesterday I believe her expectations of a super hero mommy have been lowered tremendously.  At seven years of age, my daughter is keenly aware of my humanity, and somehow she still loves and adores me.

So, this evening we will be enjoying a scrumptious dinner, cake and presents in honor of Sydney...our birthday girl.  And tomorrow...she gets her ears pierced.  This birthday is shaping up to be unforgettable...kind of like Sydney herself.  She is truly unforgettable.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl!  You are more than I could have ever dreamed or hoped for...and I am so blessed to have you.  Your birthday reminds me of the precious gift your life has given to me.  I love you!

The "Face"

I have a love/hate relationship with make-up.  I love it because it covers up all most of my facial flaws, and adds color so I don't look nearly as tired as I actually feel.  I hate it because it is such a hassle to apply and remove.  If I could simply leave my house "as is" I would be perfectly happy.  However, "as is" is scary.  I know this for a fact because my children, who have no motivation for lying, have told me flat out, "Mommy, you look scary."  So, you see, make-up, while somewhat of a chore, is a necessity.  

I have a friend who very rarely wears make-up, and looks beautiful.  She has that even-tone-silky-smooth-I-want-to-hate-you-but-I-love-you-because-you-are-my-friend kind of skin.  She has truly been blessed.  Me...not so much.  Therefore, I leave my make-up free days for the weekend and my family.

I remember my mom referring to her make-up as her "face".  She couldn't go anywhere without putting her "face" on.  As a little girl I thought that sounded crazy.  I totally get it now.  The "face" is the identity that the world out there has come to recognize, know, and feel comfortable with.  If I were to show up to church on a Sunday morning without my face, there would probably be some concern.  Or maybe perhaps a few horrified individuals.  Like I said, I look scary.

There's another "face" I wear.  This "face" is the person everyone out there sees every single day.  The person who says "hi" in the church foyer, or forgets to say "hi" because she's running late to pick up one of her kids from Sunday school.  This is the "face", or persona, that everyone around me has come to know, to some degree, and feel comfortable with (or at least, come to grips with).  To be honest, there are mornings when I wake up and I don't particularly feel like putting my "face" on.  I'm tired.  I'm stressed.  I've spent most of the night worrying about my family, the future (not a very spiritual thing to do, I know...but I confess, it happens).  I get overwhelmed.  I feel lonely.  And yet, I know that if I were to walk out my door without putting on my "face" I might make a lot of people feel very uncomfortable...I might scare them.

I don't think I'm the only woman on the planet that feels like this, even though sometimes it would appear that way.  I would imagine we all have a deep desire to be known and accepted without our make-up on.  To know that more than just our families will accept the scary two-toned skin that lies beneath the Clinique foundation.  And if we were all perfectly honest, while we so desperately want to be make-up free with each other, we, too, find it difficult to allow others to be make-up free with us.  I say this not to point a finger, but really because as God has been working in my life in the area of grace, this has been a key issue he has brought to light.  As God lavishes me with undeserved grace and mercy, I find him challenging me to do the same for others.  I haven't always hit the nail on the head, but thankfully, God forgives and gives me a second chance.

God's grace is sufficient for me...and it is also sufficient for you.  God's grace poured out for, and in, me, is the grace he desires for me to pour out on others.

One powerful thing I am learning on this grace journey is that as I accept this unconditional gift and apply it to my life, the need to wear my inner "face" begins to fade away.  I don't have anything to be ashamed of, fearful of, or embarrassed about.  I am fully known by God, and feel the freedom to be fully known by others.  It may look rough, and it may lack polish, but it's the real thing.  It is the face without the "face".  The face that God loves, accepts and has chosen.  And more importantly, the part of me that will ultimately reflect Jesus to others...which is truly my heart's desire...above all else.

2 Corinthians 3:18

"And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

My hope...my prayer...for my face to reflect the true face of God....one day at a time...one step of grace at a time...

Sweet Spot

“When life’s biggest disappointments cause a bitterness that you just can’t seem to shake, know that the Lord wants to step in and reveal the miracle of his restoring power in your heart.  He can take your biggest struggle and heartache – the one that causes your chest to ache with frustration – and turn it into the sweet spot on which your spiritual outlook hinges.”    - Priscilla Shirer from her Bible Study, “One In A Million”.

This statement has lingered with me for several days now.  Our current heartache, whatever that might be, is the very thing in which God can, and will, transform into a sweet spot. 

A sweet spot.

When I think of sweet, I think of honey, homemade chocolate chip cookies, kisses from my kiddos, the night Joel proposed to me, the first time I saw my babies on a sonogram, and walking on the beach with sand between my toes.  Those are all marvelous things to me.  The word sweet does not conjure up thoughts of heartache, struggle, and pain.  When I think sweet, I don’t think about a wilderness journey.  Yet, just maybe my perception of sweet is off.  Perhaps the very thing in my life that frustrates and overwhelms me is the very thing that God is using to draw me close to him – causing me to cling to him with all my might.

Life is so multi-dimensional.  There may be clouds hovering over one area while sunlight shines down on another.  Sometimes there are more clouds than sun, and finding a sweet spot is like looking for sugar in a saltshaker.

When we moved into our current home, we had a baby and a two-year-old.  We didn’t need a lot of space, and really couldn’t afford much more than our tiny townhome at the time.  We dreamed big.  We anticipated living in this house for a couple years and then moving on up to something bigger to meet the needs of our growing family.  Then two things happened all around the same time: I found out I was pregnant with Jackson, and the housing market plummeted.  Needless to say, five years later, we are still living in our two-bedroom townhome with no yard.  Believe me, there have been days when I have felt the frustration of this situation so strong and wondered how long will we have to live like this. 

Last fall, as we were settling back into the routine of school, ballet, Bible study, etc, something very powerful occurred to me.  I was putting up what few fall decorations I have and began reflecting on all of the autumn seasons we’ve spent in our home, how each year has been a little different from the last, and just how much life and memories we have lived here: Brooklyn learned to crawl and walk, Jackson was brought home from the hospital to this very house – the only home he’s ever known - miracles witnessed in our kitchen and living room, Christmases, Easter egg hunts, birthday parties, and countless Friday Family Movie Nights.  This little townhome, that sometimes feels like it’s closing in on me, is our home…a very sweet place.  And to my children, it is not a piece of real estate that has depreciated in market value.  It is their home – their sweet spot.  

God has taught me so many things here too.  He’s taught me to think creatively, outside the box, stretching me to find ways to maximize our living space.  He has also taught me to be content, no matter what situation I am in.  I realize that this issue of mine may seem petty and small in comparison to all of the real heartache and sorrow out there in our world.  However, this is one cloud, a piece of the bigger puzzle, revealing that as much as I would love to have a picture-perfect life, not everything will always be picture-perfect.  This little ‘ole house is not something that I simply have to put up with, but it has truly become a sweet spot for me.  I am so grateful that our plans to move on up fell apart, because it has been here, in this townhome, that the most precious moments of my life have been lived…and I really don’t want to move away from that any time soon.

 

Allowing God to turn our biggest disappointments into a sweet spot is not always an easy thing to do, but once we release them into his hands, there can truly be none sweeter.

Psalm 19:9-10

The ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous.  They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.

"Do Over" Day

Have you ever wished you could stop, rewind and re-do a moment in time?  I have...pretty much on a regular basis.  This past weekend, especially, I needed a "do over" day. On Saturday morning Sydney managed to wedge her bedroom door shut while she and Jackson were inside.  I couldn't get it open - not even a single budge.  They were trapped.  I body slammed it so many times that I now have a lovely bruise on my left shoulder.  I could hear wailing and screaming coming from the other side of the door.  This is why we have an "open door" policy in our home.  Doors remain open at all times, unless the parents have designated otherwise.  Too many near-loss-of-fingers incidents.  We had to put the open door policy into effect.  On this day in particular, Sydney was getting wild, decided to shut Brooklyn out of the bedroom, and pretty much closed herself in for a thirty minute time-out.

Was I frustrated?  Yes.  I was.  Did I manage this situation in a calm and peaceful manner?  Hmmm....I could have done better.

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Some friends had invited us over to their home for lunch after church yesterday.  We enjoy this family so much, and their girls are the same ages as our girls.  The afternoon was going well until their youngest daughter came running inside from the backyard and announced that Brooklyn had told Jackson to throw dirt on her.  And he did.  My children were on the fast track to cranky-ville, and it was becoming clear that they were suffering from a severe case of nap-deficiency.  Not an excuse for bad behavior, but certainly a contributing factor.

As I was sitting in my friends' living room, holding Jackson and Brooklyn on my lap (both in full blown melt-down mode), singing "Little Mister Roo" all I could think about was, "Can I have a 'do over'?".

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Jackson was up at 3:30 this morning.  His, "Mommy! Mommy!" cries pulled me out of a deep coma.  He needed help going potty.  I couldn't get back to sleep after that.  I laid in my bed thinking about all the things I need to do today, all the things coming up this week, all the things I am running behind in, and how much I wish I could escape to a nice, warm beach somewhere.  Needless to say, when my alarm went off at 5:30 am, I turned it off, rolled over and closed my eyes.

I woke up late.  Bad start to the day.

Stop.  Rewind.  Try again.

Psalm 103:11&12 "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us."

Romans 4:7&8 "Blessed are they whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered.  Blessed is the man whose sin the Lord will never count against him."

In my world of "high expectations" I really blew it a time or two this weekend.  It is Monday morning, and as I look to the past I fear it has set me up for a less than stellar week.  I wonder if I could do the weekend over, somehow I could set everything right again.  Not so.  "Do overs" are great, when you can actually do something over (like one of my kids waking up on the wrong side of the bed - they get to stop, go back to their room, and try again).  When you can't, there is always the assurance that once forgiven by God all is restored.  We don't have to rewind to try again.  We simply get to start fresh.  Start new. Start over.

So, rather than stop.  Rewind.  Try again.  I am going to stop.  Receive forgiveness.  And start anew.  I think I like this way better than a "do over" day.

Friday's Free Advice - When All Else Fails...

I live in the Northwest.  Rain is part of the package.  In fact, it is 99% of the way we do life here.  My daughter, Sydney, who is a native, has made it very clear to me that there is a difference between rain, drizzle, and a slight sprinkle.  It’s pretty much all the same to me.  When wet stuff falls from the sky – hard, soft, fast or slow - I call it rain.  

A couple of days ago, I was waiting to pick Sydney up in the carpool line at her school.  We were parked a good distance from the building.  On a dry day it would make for a nice, refreshing jaunt.  On a day like this one in particular, it could only be defined as something out of a nightmare.  We were getting dumped on.  The real rain was pouring.  After I had given Jackson and Brooklyn their stave-off-the-boredom-while-waiting-for-their-sister-snacks, Jackson started bouncing in his seat saying, “Mommy, I need to go potty.”  (This seems all too familiar to me.)  “How bad?” was my reply (hoping the bouncing was more for dramatic effect).  “Mommy, I need to go potty now!”  “Can you wait until we get to Sydney’s ballet school (which is a good thirty minutes away)?” Futile.  The poor guy needed to go.  What to do?

As I visualized myself wading through the puddles and raindrops with two children and a broken umbrella, I could feel a panic attack coming on (I’ve never had one, but I’m pretty sure that’s what was happening to me).  Not to mention that I was dressed “up” for a class I would be teaching that evening (a parenting class, no less).  I found an old zip-lock baggy, and was struck with instant inspiration.  Maybe he could tinkle in the baggie?  But then what?  There was no trash nearby…nowhere to dispose the evidence.  Jackson was beginning to wriggle and bounce even more intensely.  Then I noticed one of my water bottles.  I brought two with me that afternoon: one for the car, and one for later.  I quickly chugged the remaining water from bottle number one and turned to Jackson.

“Jackson, you are going to go pee-pee in this bottle.”

The look on Jackson’s face was a mixture of confusion, shock. and a little fear.

“Jackson, this is going to be fun.  You are going to put your pee-pee in this water bottle!”

I began unfastening him.  He was warming up to the idea.  We got everything situated…and…”tah-dah!”…mission accomplished.

The first words out of Jackson’s mouth were, “Mommy, this is fun!” 

“Yes, it is.”

Then he added, “Look!  It’s yellow!  My favorite color!”

Oh happy day!

Have no fear.  The contents were emptied out on an unsuspecting bush later after the rain died down.  And as far as I can tell, there has been no emotional damage done.

So, tell me…when all else fails, what do you do?

Friday’s Free Advice:  Share your “When All Else Fails” stories.  I would certainly love to hear them!  Mommy moments are much more fun when shared with other mommies…who have been there a time or two.

Grace For A Budding "Frugalista"

Last week I quickly jotted down a few thoughts on grace.  After three decades plus of serving God, it would appear that my heart has reawakened to the glorious grace he has for me…that he has always had for me.  Where on earth have I been?  Oh, yeah, that’s right…I’ve been over there in the corner, comparing myself to the mom whose five-year-old is learning multiplication while I don’t even understand the directions for Sydney’s first grade math homework.  And wouldn’t you know it, just as I have stepped into the irresistible life of grace, the enemy has been on alert – prepping for that one moment of weakness when he can swoop in and tear me down.   

I spent a weekend get-away with a couple of girlfriends recently.  It was fabulous.  We got out of town, sat around in our sweats (hello…comfy clothes is my love language!), ate scrumptious food, watched HGTV and a good ‘ol chick flick, and - just to be certain this was a full fledged girls’ weekend - there was a whole lot of talking.  While the headache from sleep deprivation nearly took me out the morning after, I had a truly amazing time.  However, there were a few moments of internal struggle for me off and on throughout our conversations.  You see, I have incredible friends.  They do just about everything great.  I think I’ve mentioned this fact before in a previous post.  As we chatted it up about motherhood, our kids, and our hubbies, I almost had to pinch myself because, for a moment, I truly thought I was in the presence of female greatness.  They do it all.  Not that their lives have been perfect because each has had her fair share of personal struggle, but they’ve handled every challenge superbly.  And to top it off…they are serious coupon clippers – down to their portable coupon file-a-folders.  When they broke these babies out, I thought I would fall off my seat.  One gal asked me if I “do” coupons.  Yes, I do “do” coupons, but apparently not like they do.  Listening to them gab on and on about all the free stuff they get with coupons, the $5 Target purses and a lifetime supply of Coke, a little voice in my head started taunting me. 

“You only thought you were a good steward of your money.  Look at these women.  They really know how to manage what God has given to them.  God only blesses those who steward their money well.”

Ugh.  Needless to say, I left that conversation with a huge knot in my stomach.  This kind of thinking, however, is completely distorted.  In the past I would have allowed the untrue message to eat me alive, but not this time!

My thoughts turned to God’s truth (and even with the truth in mind, I had to battle this one out):

“And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.  Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness.” – 2 Corinthians 9:8 & 10.

The beautiful thing about grace is redemption.  The beautiful thing about redemption is freedom.  And freedom is exhilarating and irresistible.  I live my life surrounded by spills and dust bunnies big enough to hop right out the door on their own, yet in the midst of it all, God is there, ready and willing to help me clean up the dirt and grime all the while holding me firmly and lovingly in his tender grasp.  And as for coupons, well, I’ll keep doing my best.  If I never win a “frugalista of the year” award, so be it.  God’s grace abounds to me in all things, and at all times.  When I am weak, he is my strength.  When I head out the door for the grocery store and forget my coupons altogether (which happened just the other day), he doesn’t judge or shake his head at me.  Rather, he helps me shop more wisely because he knows how much I depend upon him and his ability to supply and increase my store of seed.

And I’m pretty sure that my amazing girlfriends will still love this budding “Frugalista” in spite of my coupon file-a-folder deficiency! 

I’m learning to walk in God’s grace at all times, and in all things.

Daily Dose Of Grace

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." - 2 Corinthians 12:9 Amy's translation: "His grace is sufficient when my house hasn't been cleaned in two weeks, when Sydney's make-up homework pile is six inches high, when I haven't opened my Bible study book in over a week, and especially on those evenings when dinner comes from a can.  His grace abounds when I'm exhausted, sad, overwhelmed and sleep deprived, because when I am weak, He is strong."

The power of God's grace has pierced deep into my soul, and without it I am afraid I would live in a perpetual state of guilt.  His perfect love and all-sufficient grace have flooded my soul like an April downpour, and I'm soaking wet.  Washing away the guilt that I lug around on my shoulders every single day, He is inviting me to sing in the rain that will blossom into a beautiful array of May flowers.

I'm on a journey to rediscover God's grace in my life, and I hope you'll hang in here with me.

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.  Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." - Galatians 5:1

Grace

Today I am grateful for grace.  

Grace from a friend when I'm not quite together and feeling terribly sorry for myself.

Grace from my husband when I accidentally smack him in the face first thing in the morning (I really thought I was barely touching him, but apparently at 6am my touch is not so gentle).

Grace from my family when meals aren't ready on time, and the dishwasher is full to overflowing leaving us with no clean dinner plates (thus the reason we keep paper plates on hand).

Grace from ministry directors when when my children get sick and need me the most, and I have to drop the juggling act for a little while.

Grace from my sister when days go by and I haven't called just to see how she's doing.

Grace from my Heavenly Father.  I haven't lived a perfect life.  I've messed up...a lot.  But God has been so good and so faithful to me.  Even now, when I struggle thinking I need to somehow earn God's approval, He bends down, lifts my head and whispers, "GRACE" to me. 

Ephesians 2:8-10

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast.  For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

As I reflect on Good Friday, and all that was sacrificed on this day thousands of years ago, I remember it was God's grace poured out upon that cross...for me.  I can barely comprehend such a love.  What a gift!  And I am completely grateful.

Grateful for God's grace.