He could have left you alone.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
in the testing
The moment you're really tested - the treasured is stripped from you, your reputation is smeared, you best efforts fail in what feels like every area - the moment you're tempted to believe that God has targeted you for some sort of galactic "whooping"...remember this truth.
He could have left you alone.
He could have left you alone.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
what's in a name?
I hated the bus ride to and from school as a kid. And, to be honest, as a teenager! Boarding the bus, especially in the afternoon, was great reason for sweaty palms, heart-pounding panic, and nearly teeth-chattering fear. I wish I were exaggerating!
The bus was a free zone: no teachers, no monitors...just sixty kids and a forty-five minute free-for-all of cursing, intimidating, fighting, and downright meanness. Some days you were the intimidator, other days the intimidated.
Most days, I was the intimidated. I tried to be quite and invisible until someone chose me as a target. And even then, I'd wait as long as I could until I stood up for myself. One time, a girl stood in my face yelling curse words at me for quite some time before I finally stood up and yelled back at her. She slapped me and knocked me back into my seat. I didn't get back up. But, I was kicked off the bus for three days while she went on with her tormenting discipline-free. Lesson learned? Just stay quiet.
(My parents didn't discipline me for my bus suspension, by the way. The sentiment I got from them was almost as if they put my on their shoulders and paraded me around, proud of the fact that I hadn't gotten into a hair-snatching, face-scratching, out-and-out battle with this girl. They just drove me to school for three days, without complaint.)
I always dreaded school. From kindergarten through twelfth grade. Many of my interactions there were very hard on such a sensitive kid. Consequently, I had a horrible view of myself. I believed far too much of what was said to me or about me. I soaked it in. By high school, I was despondent I'd ever be worth anything or ever be accepted. I was more than despondent, I was depressed.
I felt God didn't see me or know what I was going through. I searched Scripture and was comforted by the fact that He, too, was despised and rejected. But that still didn't make me feel loved and valued. It just let me know I was in Good company.
My junior year, when a friend traveled to England, he returned with a gift for me. It meant a lot that he thought about me in his travels. But what meant more was the lesson I learned from his gift. He gave me a tea cup. It would be about eight years before I embraced a love of hot tea, so I was a bit confused. But when I read the cup, I knew it had been carefully selected. It said, "Amanda, your name means, 'Worthy of Love', and you can say that again!"
Worthy of love. I had no idea. No clue that the name I carried - the name that had become synonymous with shame and humiliation, actually said over me each time it was spoken what God was crying out for me to hear, "I love you, I love you. I made you beautiful. I made you worthy to be admired, loved, by others. By Me." Worthy of love, with your frizzy hair, bountiful hips, lack of braces, and offbeat sense of humor. Worthy of love regardless of what small-minded folks may say. Worthy of love because He declared it over me. Even my enemies unknowingly declared that I was loved when they spoke my name. How awesome is that!?
That's how the Lord got to me. Every verse I memorized about His love set the stage. And each person who demonstrated care and love toward me watered the seed. But God used an even smaller, more common thing, to say, "Amanda, I love you. You." God starting a soul-healing work in me through a tea cup which sits in my cabinet still today. He has continued that work, and He will finish it.
And that work is part of the reason we have taken, are taking, so much time to name our son! His name will proclaim over him all the days of his life what we feel is important for him to know. It will speak of his calling, his God, his identity. So, to us, a name is not just a name, but an opportunity to speak life over our boy every time we call his name.
What shall it be!? Well, we will certainly have to decide before we take him home from the hospital! And when he decides to grace us with his presence, we will declare his wonderful, magnanimous name to the whole world! Our Fragments family included.
--------
If you don't know the meaning of your name, give Google a holler and find out! I've actually used babynames.com a lot, even pre-pregnancy to find the meaning of names. (MANY are accurate. But, for some, I had to do a little more research.)
The bus was a free zone: no teachers, no monitors...just sixty kids and a forty-five minute free-for-all of cursing, intimidating, fighting, and downright meanness. Some days you were the intimidator, other days the intimidated.
Most days, I was the intimidated. I tried to be quite and invisible until someone chose me as a target. And even then, I'd wait as long as I could until I stood up for myself. One time, a girl stood in my face yelling curse words at me for quite some time before I finally stood up and yelled back at her. She slapped me and knocked me back into my seat. I didn't get back up. But, I was kicked off the bus for three days while she went on with her tormenting discipline-free. Lesson learned? Just stay quiet.
(My parents didn't discipline me for my bus suspension, by the way. The sentiment I got from them was almost as if they put my on their shoulders and paraded me around, proud of the fact that I hadn't gotten into a hair-snatching, face-scratching, out-and-out battle with this girl. They just drove me to school for three days, without complaint.)
I always dreaded school. From kindergarten through twelfth grade. Many of my interactions there were very hard on such a sensitive kid. Consequently, I had a horrible view of myself. I believed far too much of what was said to me or about me. I soaked it in. By high school, I was despondent I'd ever be worth anything or ever be accepted. I was more than despondent, I was depressed.
I felt God didn't see me or know what I was going through. I searched Scripture and was comforted by the fact that He, too, was despised and rejected. But that still didn't make me feel loved and valued. It just let me know I was in Good company.
My junior year, when a friend traveled to England, he returned with a gift for me. It meant a lot that he thought about me in his travels. But what meant more was the lesson I learned from his gift. He gave me a tea cup. It would be about eight years before I embraced a love of hot tea, so I was a bit confused. But when I read the cup, I knew it had been carefully selected. It said, "Amanda, your name means, 'Worthy of Love', and you can say that again!"
Worthy of love. I had no idea. No clue that the name I carried - the name that had become synonymous with shame and humiliation, actually said over me each time it was spoken what God was crying out for me to hear, "I love you, I love you. I made you beautiful. I made you worthy to be admired, loved, by others. By Me." Worthy of love, with your frizzy hair, bountiful hips, lack of braces, and offbeat sense of humor. Worthy of love regardless of what small-minded folks may say. Worthy of love because He declared it over me. Even my enemies unknowingly declared that I was loved when they spoke my name. How awesome is that!?
That's how the Lord got to me. Every verse I memorized about His love set the stage. And each person who demonstrated care and love toward me watered the seed. But God used an even smaller, more common thing, to say, "Amanda, I love you. You." God starting a soul-healing work in me through a tea cup which sits in my cabinet still today. He has continued that work, and He will finish it.
And that work is part of the reason we have taken, are taking, so much time to name our son! His name will proclaim over him all the days of his life what we feel is important for him to know. It will speak of his calling, his God, his identity. So, to us, a name is not just a name, but an opportunity to speak life over our boy every time we call his name.
What shall it be!? Well, we will certainly have to decide before we take him home from the hospital! And when he decides to grace us with his presence, we will declare his wonderful, magnanimous name to the whole world! Our Fragments family included.
--------
If you don't know the meaning of your name, give Google a holler and find out! I've actually used babynames.com a lot, even pre-pregnancy to find the meaning of names. (MANY are accurate. But, for some, I had to do a little more research.)
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Waves
I was prepared for waves of nausea, fatigue, and something that varied from discomfort to pain for a full 40 weeks. No doubt crescendoing at the end.
I was not at all, however, prepared for wave upon wave of emotion - crashing on one another and making it difficult to get footing between assails. High tide, low tide. Thrill. Panic.
....
Monday night, as Webb and I left work, we planned to run some errands. We were headed about twenty minutes away, to Wal Mart, when I asked, "Babe...do you think we could eat at Longhorn? It just sounds really, really good to me."
"I don't mind, but that's an hour away. You are realizing that means our entire night will be out and about, right?"
"I do. I know. It just sounds really, really good right now. And not many things do."
He sighed a bit, but smiled, "Sure. Longhorn it is."
My husband. Such a gracious husband to moody, unsatisfiable, pregnant woman.
As we neared the next town though, I threw out another request, "But babe, we have an hour drive and it's going to be an hour and a half before we eat. And I'm hungry now...really hungry..."
"Ok?"
"Can we just drive through McDonald's here on the way?" I suggested it like this is something normal people do - pre-dinner dinner.
"Let me make sure I'm right," he clarified. "You want to drive through for a cheeseburger, and then you want to eat a steak?"
"I know! But I'm just so hungry! I haven't eaten since 8:00 this morning!"
"Amanda. That's a little bit crazy. It won't take long to get there, I promise."
And the quick-approaching McDonald's was on our left, and then it was in the rearview mirror.
He drove by it. And I, instead of contenting my heart with the steak I would eat in just a bit, BURST into tears. Not teared up, or was just disappointed. No. BROKE into SOBBING.
"Oh my gosh!!" the shocked man in the seat beside me slammed on brakes, swerved into the turn lane, and made a beeline for McDonald's.
"I didn't realize it was this serious! You just want a cheeseburger, right?" he asked with slight panic in his voice.
"Yes..." I uttered between sobs.
..."And a small fry."...
At that, laughter broke the tension of the moment just a bit. I heard how ridiculous I sounded and started cracking up. And he laughed, knowing I was completely out of control and I knew it.
"Can I get a mighty kids meal, with a Diet Coke, please?" he requested.
I sat beside him crying, apologizing and thanking, "I'm sorry! But thank you. I'm sorry!"
When I offered him some fries or a bite of burger, he shook his head like, "Take food from a lion? What kind of idiot does that?"
And we laughed. And an hour later I ate four ounces of steak and a baked potato. Could have eaten more.
I wasn't at all prepared for these waves. Tears at the slightest thing. And I certainly thought if I had navigated the first trimester without any of this, it surely wasn't coming for me. I would make it through pregnancy unscathed! False.
But I am so thankful for such a wonderful husband. I tell him every single day, "You are the most amazing husband any pregnant woman could have. You know that, right?" To which he often replies, "I do know that," with a smirk on his face.
But why all the waves? Why the crashing down of thrill, panic, sadness, excitement, worry, anticipation...one right after the other?
Now more than ever I need the peace only He gives. His joy - a calm delight. And yet every offer He extends, I refuse. If I am to receive peace, I must forego my striving. I must settle my agenda. I, with no exceptions, must surrender - exchanging myself and my plans for true, lasting peace.
This is the peace I've prayed over our son. The reason his nursery is decorated in neutral, calm colors. The reason I often pat my belly and speak softly and reassuringly to him. The very peace that I want him to have more than almost anything else.
And yet, I expect myself to pass on something I am refusing for myself. My son will not simply, "Do as I say." I know this. He will take his cues from who I am. He will walk the way I walk. I cannot pass on what I do not hold.
"The Lord will fight for you. You need only to hold your peace."
Picture it - He hands us peace and says, "Hold this. I'll be right back." And that is our only job. To hold it, ponder it, let it feel at home in our hands.
Today, that is your only job. Forget all the rest of it. He only looked at you and said, "Hold this. I'll do the rest." You must, if you don't do anything else, clutch it. Don't let your hands be so full of all else that you have to let go of the one thing that will help you endure all that otherness.
That's what I'm speaking to myself today. "No matter the wave, wrap yourself around the peace. Though you tumble through the water, unable to distinguish up from down, cling to the peace. For this is only a wave. It has an end. And what you hold does not. It is inexhaustible."
"He will fight for you. You need only to hold your peace."
(Photo credit: Ann Voskamp)
I was not at all, however, prepared for wave upon wave of emotion - crashing on one another and making it difficult to get footing between assails. High tide, low tide. Thrill. Panic.
....
Monday night, as Webb and I left work, we planned to run some errands. We were headed about twenty minutes away, to Wal Mart, when I asked, "Babe...do you think we could eat at Longhorn? It just sounds really, really good to me."
"I don't mind, but that's an hour away. You are realizing that means our entire night will be out and about, right?"
"I do. I know. It just sounds really, really good right now. And not many things do."
He sighed a bit, but smiled, "Sure. Longhorn it is."
My husband. Such a gracious husband to moody, unsatisfiable, pregnant woman.
As we neared the next town though, I threw out another request, "But babe, we have an hour drive and it's going to be an hour and a half before we eat. And I'm hungry now...really hungry..."
"Ok?"
"Can we just drive through McDonald's here on the way?" I suggested it like this is something normal people do - pre-dinner dinner.
"Let me make sure I'm right," he clarified. "You want to drive through for a cheeseburger, and then you want to eat a steak?"
"I know! But I'm just so hungry! I haven't eaten since 8:00 this morning!"
"Amanda. That's a little bit crazy. It won't take long to get there, I promise."
And the quick-approaching McDonald's was on our left, and then it was in the rearview mirror.
He drove by it. And I, instead of contenting my heart with the steak I would eat in just a bit, BURST into tears. Not teared up, or was just disappointed. No. BROKE into SOBBING.
"Oh my gosh!!" the shocked man in the seat beside me slammed on brakes, swerved into the turn lane, and made a beeline for McDonald's.
"I didn't realize it was this serious! You just want a cheeseburger, right?" he asked with slight panic in his voice.
"Yes..." I uttered between sobs.
..."And a small fry."...
At that, laughter broke the tension of the moment just a bit. I heard how ridiculous I sounded and started cracking up. And he laughed, knowing I was completely out of control and I knew it.
"Can I get a mighty kids meal, with a Diet Coke, please?" he requested.
I sat beside him crying, apologizing and thanking, "I'm sorry! But thank you. I'm sorry!"
When I offered him some fries or a bite of burger, he shook his head like, "Take food from a lion? What kind of idiot does that?"
And we laughed. And an hour later I ate four ounces of steak and a baked potato. Could have eaten more.
I wasn't at all prepared for these waves. Tears at the slightest thing. And I certainly thought if I had navigated the first trimester without any of this, it surely wasn't coming for me. I would make it through pregnancy unscathed! False.
But I am so thankful for such a wonderful husband. I tell him every single day, "You are the most amazing husband any pregnant woman could have. You know that, right?" To which he often replies, "I do know that," with a smirk on his face.
But why all the waves? Why the crashing down of thrill, panic, sadness, excitement, worry, anticipation...one right after the other?
Now more than ever I need the peace only He gives. His joy - a calm delight. And yet every offer He extends, I refuse. If I am to receive peace, I must forego my striving. I must settle my agenda. I, with no exceptions, must surrender - exchanging myself and my plans for true, lasting peace.
This is the peace I've prayed over our son. The reason his nursery is decorated in neutral, calm colors. The reason I often pat my belly and speak softly and reassuringly to him. The very peace that I want him to have more than almost anything else.
And yet, I expect myself to pass on something I am refusing for myself. My son will not simply, "Do as I say." I know this. He will take his cues from who I am. He will walk the way I walk. I cannot pass on what I do not hold.
"The Lord will fight for you. You need only to hold your peace."
Picture it - He hands us peace and says, "Hold this. I'll be right back." And that is our only job. To hold it, ponder it, let it feel at home in our hands.
Today, that is your only job. Forget all the rest of it. He only looked at you and said, "Hold this. I'll do the rest." You must, if you don't do anything else, clutch it. Don't let your hands be so full of all else that you have to let go of the one thing that will help you endure all that otherness.
That's what I'm speaking to myself today. "No matter the wave, wrap yourself around the peace. Though you tumble through the water, unable to distinguish up from down, cling to the peace. For this is only a wave. It has an end. And what you hold does not. It is inexhaustible."
"He will fight for you. You need only to hold your peace."
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
making room
Friday afternoon when I came home, I decided to start on Baby H's room. "Decorating already?" you may ask. Nope, not decorating! The room we intend to be Baby's room has been our storage room for two years. Storage. Which, in my world, usually means, "I have no idea where to put this. Throw it in that room and shut the door so I don't have to think about it."
Old clothes, winter clothes, hubby's hunting clothes, our luggage, keepsakes, pictures, books, tools, extra furniture, kitchen supplies, Christmas decorations, and old TV, workout equipment that I (intend to) use - and a partridge in a stinking pear tree.
My first task was to pull everything out of the room to see what was actually in there. And I thought, "It's just one room. I could probably finish this before Webb gets home this evening."
Yeah. I thought I could handle this...
...and more, in three hours.
What I hadn't thought about was the fact that everything in that room had something to do with every. other. room. in our house. And what began with "organizing a room," turned into, "rearranging every room, closet, nook, and cranny in our home".
But! The final result made my heart smile with anticipation...
(Sorry about the graininess - it's a panorama that didn't go quite as planned.)
I've decided to do Baby's room in all neutrals. White crib, gray bedding, white dresser, pale walls.
Webb's and my life is fast-paced, on the run, and at times we bear some stress from the (most-of-the-time beautiful) work the Lord has called us to. (I know none of you has met an overwhelmed pastor, right?) Well, with that being the case, I try to make every part of our home a peaceful place. I don't bring a laptop or iPad in the bedroom to work. We try to cover our home with prayer and serenity. And I wanted that same feeling in Baby's room. He or she will have plenty of noise and color every other moment of the day. I hope this nursery will be a place of true peace for them.
The chaos that ensued in our home after I tore that room apart reminded me of a spiritual truth.
Often, we close the door to a certain part of our hearts; we're reluctant to let Jesus work in there. We know each thing He puts His finger on will lead to some other part of our hearts we need to release to Him. If He points out our problem of offense, we will most likely be led to confront our pride. If He shows us our unwillingness to give, we will likely have to confront our fear of poverty - our ultimate distrust of Him. Let Him expose our dislike for a person; He'll often lead us to that same trait in ourselves.
But that is true discipleship - nothing withheld, no door locked, no part of us unscathed by His purifying fire.
Open the door, today. Let Him start the cleaning out process you may have been avoiding.
The peace and beauty to follow will be worth it.
______________________________________________________
We have one week until we (hopefully!) will find out if Baby H is a lady or a gentleman! We are so excited - can't wait to share the news with you.
Monday, August 12, 2013
soul care - take time to replenish
"If you really want me to. But, if I go with you, you better hear me saying, 'I love you desperately much,' through every minute of that event."
That was my response when my husband asked me to attend a reunion for our university last week, an evening occasion inviting every person from every class who ever graduated from Southeastern University.
Nothing sounds more daunting to me than walking around "mingling" for two hours and making small-talk with about 500 of my (totally not) closest friends. I used to think I just wasn't a "people person". And I wondered why the Lord would call someone like that to ministry. What was He thinking!?
But then, I realized I absolutely love people! I just like to enjoy them one at a time, with real, deep, meaningful conversations. I sincerely enjoy spending relaxed, quality time with one or two people who know me (and I know) well. And finally, I discovered, I'm an introvert! I love people AND I love being alone! During my twenties, my greatest fear when thinking about marriage was that I'd never be alone again. Which was very difficult to understand when coupled with my lasting and persistent desire to be married.
My weakness? A large room, full of people I only sort of know. I've learned to cope; I'm quite used to "working a room" now. I can put the brave face on, meet and greet, hold conversations, and have a few laughs. But, I have a limit. One hour or two of that sort of interaction, and I feel like I've worked a 12 hour day and I want a cup of coffee and a nap!
Crazy, I know. And if you're an extravert, you're probably tempted to think, "You're pitiful." I applaud your people-given energy! In fact, I need you in my life so much I married one of you! He balances me out. Especially in moments where he pushes me to go to a reunion and actually enjoy myself.
The truth is, if you're an introvert, you often don't fit the mold. Meeting new people might be anxiety-laden, making small-talk is laborious, and the daily grind can be more tiring for you than for those who get energy from being with others. Our world is busy. And, no matter how contrary it feels, we all will spend more time out-and-about, socializing, than we will spend doing what feels natural - being alone and traveling the deep recesses of our souls while reflecting.
So, introvert, you've got to be especially diligent about replenishing. Replenishment is important for every soul God created. It's a part of soul-care. And I got some great information from a few ladies in ministry while in Florida last week that I was so excited to share with you.
Here're a few ideas for replenishing the tank:
Get in the Word.
Nothing will refresh a depleted soul like the salve of God's words to us. Get your coffee (or tea), close the door (even if you only have 5-10 minutes), and breathe in His words.
Do something different.
Break from your norm a minute! Stroll a store (alone, of course;). Drive a different way home or make a loop. Walk a new trail. Get out of the routine and reflect somewhere new.
Take a personal retreat
Do that thing most people around you would consider torture. It's been 5 or 6 years since I did this, but GO AWAY! By yourself! My first experience was forced. My best friends actually picked me up at work, blindfolded me, drove me an hour, and dropped me at a resort. Bag packed, separate vehicle left behind for my use. And nothing but Jesus, me, a journal, and a pool for 24 hours. Perfect. (Sidenote - if you know an introvert who seems particularly overwhelmed, this may be just the ticket to ease the load!)
Talk to a friend.
Sometimes, just telling the story from beginning to end and hearing a fresh perspective will lift your heart and make room for the next thing. And even if nothing sounds more daunting or intimidating than trying to say what's swirling in your heart, give it a shot with one of those friends you know just "gets" you. No worries if it takes you a while to get to the point.
Get serious about taking these opportunities - it's not likely anyone will just hand them to you. And, if you take them often enough, you'll enjoy living, loving, and serving so much more! And, let's be honest, you'll probably be a little more enjoyable yourself!
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
When Your Heart Surprises You
We have traveled our hearts out this summer, and we're not done yet! I definitely enjoy being on the road, seeing new places, and hugging family and friends. But I must say, I'm ready to be home for a while! Webb and I came home late a few nights ago, and I stood in our kitchen and said, "Man this house is so cute and cozy! We should totally move in here..." We laugh as much as we can.
Last week, during one of our road trips, I rushed into the gas station bathroom. (My bladder is not as patient as it was pre-pregnancy!) I realized the only feasible stall to use was still quite untidy, but I took my chances. Leaving, I saw beside the toilet a toilet brush and the urge hit me to really quickly clean the throne for the next person. Just scrub a little and wipe it down a bit. (And then of course scald my hands with water the temperature of 1000 white, fiery suns.)
But, I resisted the urge and gathered my purse, thinking, "The next person in here wouldn't even know how it was before. They wouldn't appreciate what I did for them. And the worker probably doesn't even care it's dirty. Why bother?"
I immediately felt shame flood my heart, rise up my neck, and blush my face. I was shocked at the reality of my motives. To be seen, to be appreciated, to be known as good. "Where is my servant heart?" I thought, "What have I become?"
It used to be my joy to perform unseen, unknown acts of service - A distant quality of our Father. All the fun was lost if someone knew it was me! What great excitement to serve someone in a way they didn't know they needed. I loved knowing that whoever I was serving could just receive - never feel obligated to repay, return the favor, or adequately thank someone.
And now here I am, wondering why I would serve in anonymity. I was surprised at my heart, and ashamed of its immaturity.
God whispered to my defiled conscience, "The true measure of servanthood is serving anonymously, serving those who won't know to thank you, serving those who may never respect or value you or what you do, and serving for an audience of One. Are you still my servant, Amanda? Or do you need more? Is the title "servant" enough for you? Or do you need others to praise you, appreciate you, applaud your efforts and 'selflessness'? Can you serve Me with gladness, know I see you, and be content with that?"
"I can, Lord. You know I can. Help me return to my first Love, and restore humility to my heart. I am sorry."
When your heart surprises you, it's time to let Jesus mold it over again. It's a potter/clay moment. We are given a distinct choice: submit and grow, or resist and diminish. If we choose to grow, He'll give the grace to do it.
Last week, during one of our road trips, I rushed into the gas station bathroom. (My bladder is not as patient as it was pre-pregnancy!) I realized the only feasible stall to use was still quite untidy, but I took my chances. Leaving, I saw beside the toilet a toilet brush and the urge hit me to really quickly clean the throne for the next person. Just scrub a little and wipe it down a bit. (And then of course scald my hands with water the temperature of 1000 white, fiery suns.)
But, I resisted the urge and gathered my purse, thinking, "The next person in here wouldn't even know how it was before. They wouldn't appreciate what I did for them. And the worker probably doesn't even care it's dirty. Why bother?"
I immediately felt shame flood my heart, rise up my neck, and blush my face. I was shocked at the reality of my motives. To be seen, to be appreciated, to be known as good. "Where is my servant heart?" I thought, "What have I become?"
It used to be my joy to perform unseen, unknown acts of service - A distant quality of our Father. All the fun was lost if someone knew it was me! What great excitement to serve someone in a way they didn't know they needed. I loved knowing that whoever I was serving could just receive - never feel obligated to repay, return the favor, or adequately thank someone.
And now here I am, wondering why I would serve in anonymity. I was surprised at my heart, and ashamed of its immaturity.
God whispered to my defiled conscience, "The true measure of servanthood is serving anonymously, serving those who won't know to thank you, serving those who may never respect or value you or what you do, and serving for an audience of One. Are you still my servant, Amanda? Or do you need more? Is the title "servant" enough for you? Or do you need others to praise you, appreciate you, applaud your efforts and 'selflessness'? Can you serve Me with gladness, know I see you, and be content with that?"
"I can, Lord. You know I can. Help me return to my first Love, and restore humility to my heart. I am sorry."
When your heart surprises you, it's time to let Jesus mold it over again. It's a potter/clay moment. We are given a distinct choice: submit and grow, or resist and diminish. If we choose to grow, He'll give the grace to do it.
Monday, July 22, 2013
I Can't Wait
“You’ll teach me of hearts and dreams and all the most important things and all that I have lost along the way.
And I can’t wait.” Sara Groves
I have so many things to learn. Glaring deficits of character, good habits by the wayside and bad ones in hand, and a penchant to speak my mind when silence would benefit us all.
But I hold so much in my heart I can’t wait to bestow! Love, joy, peace, patience...though there are days in short supply...He gives new every morning and I can’t wait to share them.
I keep hearing, “Well, you’ll understand when you have kids,” and, “You just wait until you can’t remember the last full night’s sleep you had,” or, “enjoy having nice things in your house now.” But the words are muffled and I just can’t bring myself to care! Right now, I am far too excited to share life with you to care about the parts of life you will change.
Let me tell you a little about your family...
We have big faith, huge dreams, and the biggest God. We are short on criticism and long on praise. We worry a little too much. Some days, we’re messy. We choose to believe the best about each other. We forgive. And, in the midst of that, we try to take Jesus way more seriously than we ever take ourselves.
And when I meet you sometime in January, remember that I will need you to teach me just as many things as I teach you.
“How do you sleep so peacefully?
How do you trust unflinchingly?
How do you love so faithfully?
How do you dance so joyfully?
Oh you'll teach me,
Of hearts and dreams,
And all the most important things,
And all that I have lost along the way,
I can’t wait.”
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