Foreshadowings

"Plenty, misery, recriminations, sympathy. All such an exaggerated picture of the man-made way of life in a God-made world. If it all didn't prove the necessity of Heaven, I don't know what it means. I believe that all this loveliness (of Spring) showing through the rubble and wreck are just foreshadowings of the joys we were made for."
      - Walker Hancock, from the book The Monuments Men

Hancock and the other men saw the beauty of the European countryside and the world's most beautiful and enduring works of art. They saw these things in the midst blood, death, and destruction.

Sometimes I feel the same way. One friend bitterly rejects me while another comes alongside and comforts me. The flowers at a funeral can bring a smile among tears. My heart can be broken and blessed at the same time. The joys and blessings are the foreshadowing of what I'm created for, or rather, whom I'm created for.

Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword separate us from the love of Christ? No, in all these things we are more than conquerers through him who loved us.

If he is for us, who can be against us?

Hopefulness

https://youtu.be/q68QRLGTfxM

Mrs Darcy from the Pride and Prejudice soundtrack is one of the most hopeful pieces of music I've ever heard.

Sympathy

Many years ago, we led a small community group. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago, but the young couples with no children now have multiple children. That means it was almost a decade ago. Gee whiz, I'm getting old. Anyway... many years ago in that small group, we made deep friendships that still make us keenly aware of each other in this life. Nowadays we are spread out. One family in Oklahoma, one in Leeds, one in England, and then us in Springville. We are all over, but those early days of eating together and forgiving each other when our kids (ahem, my kids) would make a mess. They learned to parent by assisting us with our four and learning from our mistakes. I remembered to focus on my husband by watching these newly married women and their devotion to their men. It was a marvelous time. I look back on it very fondly. 

About a month ago, Melody (the one in Leeds) posted one post after another as each of her four little ones fell ill with fever. It wasn't all at the same time, but drawn out. One would perk up and another would fall. This resulted in weeks of sleeplessness and isolation for her. I prayed diligently for her because I remember when that was me and I felt all alone in the world. 

Over the last week or two, Michelle (in England) has kept us updated as one child after another has fallen ill. Ruptured ear drum, fever, colds... leaving her exhausted and lonely. Melody commented with a response that resonated with deep love and sympathy, having just begun to emerge from her own cave of maternal duties. The interaction, though small and seemingly mundane, has resonated in my heart. I keep going back to it. I think it is because I know that Melody's understanding of Michelle's situation is deeply personal having so recently experienced it. It was also because I know them. I know that her words were deep, heartfelt and tinged with grief that she could not be with Michelle in person. These are women who truly love each other and are separated by distance. I think is was also because there was a profound spiritual truth lurking at the edges of my mind.

Jon Piper said in his book 50 Why Reasons Jesus Came to Die, "A lifetime of temptation climaxing in spectacular abuse and abandonment gave Jesus an unparalleled ability to sympathize with tempted and suffering people... therefore, the Bible says he is able 'to sympathize with our weaknesses' (Hebrews 4:15). This is amazing. The risen Son of God in heaven at God's right hand with all authority over the universe feels what we feel when we come to him in sorrow or pain..."

When Chris read this passage to us in family worship time this morning, it all clicked for me. Just as I sympathized with Melody and as Melody sympathized with Michelle, Jesus sympathizes with us. He feels what we feel. He knows. This gives me such boldness in prayer. I don't irritate him or weary him with my prayers, any more than Melody rolled her eyes at Michelle's dilemma. No! He never tires of hearing us. The main difference though is that he CAN do something. Mel can't leave her 4 little ones and hop on a plane, no matter how badly she wants to. But Jesus, through the ministry of the Holy Spirit, can comfort us. He can strengthen us. He gives life and hope and peace. 

What an amazing thought! We can never overburden Jesus. His arms are always ready to receive us and he does so with a heart bursting with sympathy and compassion. What wondrous love is this. My soul aches with it. 

Writing Makes Me Sweaty

Spring can't seem to make up its mind. Sunny and beautiful. Raining and cold. Ahhh, Alabama in March. You're killing me.

I want to say something really profound about life and seasons and some such. But I've got nothing....

What I do have is a burning desire to start writing again. Facebook is like the stick in my bike spokes though. Why does it tempt and taunt me so? I feel like the rat in the experiment that keeps running to the sugar water instead of doing whatever it was supposed to be doing. ... that was very un-specific example. Sorry.

Even now I am tempted to check social media. I'm tempted to delete it all, but I've been advised to "build my platform". Ugh. That sounds pretentious. I have a Twitter account now, just for the Writer-me, not the normal-me. And someone liked my first tweet. That was really cool.

Anne Rice said, "To write something, you have to risk making a fool of yourself." I feel ya, sister.

So keep an eye out; I'm almost finished with a collection of short stories, which includes my first ever not-happy ending. It was exhausting to write and yet, very freeing. I've also got another novel started. Cross your fingers.

How Can I Rest?

Do you ever feel like life just punches you in the face? I did yesterday. After an amazing week of being with sisters in Christ and praying and reading my Bible all day, I came home to life.

My family was wonderful. My neighbor-friend cleaned my house and it was all lovely. All the things in my life were swimming along. Then I opened the mail... and then I talked to the accountant... and then I went to the cardiologist... and evil knew right where to smack me. Money. The creeping sense of panic in my gut. The fear and urge to plan and strategize. The temptation to despair and shake my fist at God like the pirate I used to be. 

But God was there. He whispered in my ear while I got ready for the day. Am I not with you always? He was there in my words as I talked to my children about why I was upset. Haven't I always taken care of you? He was in the heart of my dear friend Melissa when she messaged, I'm sorry you're having a bad day. He was in His Word when I sank onto the sofa in weariness to read. The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. He was there. 

He quiets my soul and soothes my fears. I don't have to fear. I don't have to pick a fight with him so that he will remember me. My name is written on his hands. Hands that bear the mark of his death for my forgiveness. He will provide. Just as he always has. 

*deep breath*

Rest.

Oh the Deep, Deep Love

The body of Christ is a funny thing.

Augustine said, "The church is a whore, but she's my mother and I love her."

Sometimes she is hard to love.

Lori Sealy said yesterday, "If you're struggling to love the church, focus on her foundation."

But...

Sometimes the church is hard to look upon because her beauty is stunning. Blinding. Awe inspiring. Sometimes she is a beautiful reflection of her Savior.

I have seen her beauty this weekend and felt like a ten year old girl awed into silence by the bride at a wedding. I am struggling to find the words.

I did not realize that I was growing disillusioned with the structure of the church until I saw it functioning like it's supposed to. I did not realize I was functioning in fear and shame until I was challenged with freedom. I did not realize that I felt unimportant until I was told strongly and in no uncertain terms that I am loved, valued, and important... that my relationships with the women in my church matter.

I had forgotten that "community and compassion are covenant words," in the words of Susan Hunt.

I had forgotten that God is in the still, small voice - nose to nose with me.

Susan Tyner, one of the session leaders, said, "Our limitations lead us to a limitless God." What a thought. God - limitless, omnipotent, and all-knowing - meets us in our limitation and powerlessness.

What a day. What a great, great God we serve. What beautiful sisters I have.

Magical Days

Today I'm remembering the games Ty and his friends made up when they were young.

Knifing - Play fighting that began with real pocket knives until the moms realized they were playing with REAL POCKET KNIVES and banned them.

Boot Camp - exactly what it sounds like. Was introduced into boy culture when Bren graduated Marine Corp boot camp. They took turns screaming at each other as they made their way through increasingly dangerous obstacles. Again the moms had to intervene when we realized they were scaling the shed.

I call the next one Avatar - they realized that the kudzu vines were thick enough to walk on. I walked outside and heard their shouts of joy. It took me a minute to realize they were about 20 feet in the air, walking on top of the kudzu-covered trees. It paralyzed me with fear and I made them get down, explaining the danger of falling on a stob or small tree and impaling themselves. They didn't tell me until years later that Ellas did fall and was scraped up by a broken tree branch. How they survived their childhoods is beyond me.

Kingdoms - a highly inventive multi-level game involving elves, warriors, etc. The currency of this game was used aluminum foil. USED foil. So the moms were enlisted to use more foil and for heaven's sake, don't throw any foil away! Weapons of imagination were encouraged. Store bought swords were lame. Sticks of perfect shape, size and weight were highly sought after and woe to the parent who found said stick and threw it away. Weapons were forged of spray paint and duct tape. Armor was fashioned of used Rubbermaid container lids and cardboard. Players completed complicated missions and quests and "leveled up". At one point this game had players in 2 states and 2 countries. Over a dozen boys would come on Friday night to play. I will occasionally still find foil coins imprinted with their Kingdoms logo and smile.

Airsoft- Not a game of their invention but I'll still count it. Gilly-suits, full face masks, $200 guns and Camo abounded in this obsession.

Then there were the standard hide and seek (in the dark), freeze tag, football, smear, and various full contact games.
I'm sure I've forgotten some

I kept unlit scented candles on my table for when they would all stream into the house for water or food and the smell... my word, the smell. We would pass the candles around to sniff to counteract the odor. It offended the boys but that couldn't be helped.

I don’t know that any of us really appreciated the awesomeness of Friday nights until later when the boys were grown and had jobs or sports events. Looking back, those were magical days.

Pride and Prejudice

Pride and Prejudice...

oh how I love this story.

I fell in love with the book my senior year of high school. It was assigned reading and no one wanted to read it. I fell in love with Mr Bennett's sarcasm and Mrs Bennett's nerves. The way the relationship between Lizzie and Darcy unfolded seemed so true and realistic to me.

Then I saw the Laurence Olivier film version and the hook was set.

In 1996, the miniseries aired in the States. Colin Firth... Done.

But the 2005 film adaptation... the more I watch it, the better it gets. The cinematography, the music - gah, it owns me. The scene at the end, at dawn, in the mist, with the music swelling and Darcy striding across the field and Elizabeth's breath trembling... my heart beats hard in my chest.

I love the story. How Lizzie is so strong-willed and looks down on Darcy for looking down his nose at everyone else. How she learns his character and grows to respect him. How that respect and admiration comes before the attraction and feelings. Then the love that comes out of that goes bone deep. How Darcy is lonely but has an enormous capacity to love and how he sets that love on Lizzie.

Chris always rolls his eyes when I say it, but this story tells our story. I am the most stubborn, emotional person. He is reserved and watchful, shy. I thought he was the most arrogant man in the world when I met him. He thought I was reckless and childish. But then I got to know him and grew to respect him, even when I didn't like him. The love that has grown between us over these last 23 years is deeper than I ever thought possible. I thought it was just a fairy tale, but the way he looks at me still, the way he is grateful that I chose him, the way I look at him and see everything that I admire in a man... that is grace - not a fairy tale.

Random Thoughts for This January Night

Random thoughts for the day:

1. My house is really quiet most of the time now. Except for the piano, guitar and singing. Other than that, pretty quiet. Gone, for the most part, are the days of racing cars up and down the hallway and slamming doors and everybody talking or yelling at once. They're all pretty grown up and articulate themselves without all the screaming.

2. I have just a few more months of everybody living under the same roof. Just a few. Surreal.

3. Because of numbers one and two, I am really looking forward to our big trip this year. Lots of memories to be made and they're all old enough to remember them.

4. Brody started art lessons today. He wants to be able to sketch the Roman Forum, so line drawing it is. His teacher, Mrs Rachel, is particularly fond of, and good at, architectural drawings. He's in good hands. Today he sketched a wooden tool box with a rope handle. It was very, very good! He walked down the drive and sketched the neighbors house. She saw him sitting out in her yard and texted me. She thought his sketchbook was a dinner plate and he was sitting out there eating and staring at her house. Ha.

5. I started running last August. I hadn't run since high school. I forgot how much I like it. I worked my way up to 5k, now I'm trying to work up to 10k. Yesterday I ran 4 miles. It shocks me that I'm able to do that. Shocks and awes and makes me really grateful. I'm learning about self-control as a fruit of the Spirit.

6. My kids are all about fitness. Ty and Gracie are actually weight lifting. Gracie is in the 500 lb club and Ty is almost to the 1,000 lb club. Maggie works out several times a week and Brody rides his bike every day, adjusting the gears to make it harder. I'm proud of them!

7. I am going to read through the Bible this year. I think I've read it before, but never in a program of which chapters on which days. I'm curious to find out what I've never read before.

8. I got to spend the day with KimHill today. I had to take the Honda to the dealership to have the airbags replaced because of a recall, so she picked me up and we went shopping. We also ate lunch at Red Robin and almost cried when we put our calories into My Fitness Pal afterwards. That was a thousand calorie meal. I couldn't believe it! And I got water and no bun. Good grief.

9. I don't like that I feel self-conscious about so many things. I feel embarrassed if I talk about running. Or my eating healthier. Or reading through the Bible. I know. I know. I just typed it out in this blog post, but no one will see it if I don't post the link to Facebook. Why does it make me self-conscious? I think I'm afraid that someone will mock me, or make fun of me.
When I first started losing weight, I told NO ONE except my kids and Chris. They have been my biggest cheerleaders. Ty always high-fives me when I hit a PR with my running. The girls dress me and tell me how cute I am and how small I'm getting. Chris just has this quiet, solid way of grinning at me that encourages me. And he talks me off the ledge periodically.
I wish I could just live my life without thinking about what other people are thinking. Or without comparing myself to my mother- which always makes me itchy and sad and vaguely hopeless feeling.
I wish I could remember the truth of the gospel and my true identity. All of the time.

10. I can see, hear and feel God taking away my childhood coping mechanisms. It is terrifying and freeing and gorgeous. Reminds me of Eustace shedding his dragon skin.

I'm sleepy. And since I want to get up early to run, I should go to bed now. Enough rambling...

I ran across one of my mother's many journals today. This one was actually a small three-ring binder, black, nothing fancy. It was kept during the late nineties, when my two oldest children were tiny, and when her marriage to my father was falling apart. It broke my heart to read it and some of the pages were immediately put aside to be burned.

The pages I kept were, for posterity, a cautionary tale. I'm sure that if I were to take samples from all her writings and place them on a table, one could place them in order according to their desperation. Desperation for freedom, for hope, for release from shame. Desperation for a fix to her problems that would be quick and painless. Page after page of resolves, of ideas and strategies. And page after page of scripture.

She wrote out one verse twelve times. In twelve different translations. She claimed promises that she had no understanding of what their theological meaning was. And I realized that she labored always to experience freedom, but she never knew rest.

She expressed over and over her desire to bring hope to the hopeless, but then in her own words, she expressed confusion and shame - the opposite of hope.

Oh how I wish that I could have known the gospel the way I do now! That I could have offered her rest and peace.

How many women do I come in contact who, as my mother wrote, "are dying inside, like a machete buried deep within and twisting"?

No amount of resolve can make us right with God. No amount of obedience can bring peace. It is never enough. Our flesh only condemns us.

We are loved. Really, truly, deeply. We were chosen when we were enemies. And we are still loved when we are failures.

She knows now. Even more fully than I possibly can.

#daddymoments

Gracie is learning to tie neck-ties. She's decided she wants to know and so, she taught herself. She couldn't quite get the bow tie. So now she and her daddy are sitting in the living room practicing using Maggie as the mannequin. It is a sweet moment.

10 Things I Wish I Could Tell My Younger Self About Parenting

1. There are going to be things you regret. Period. You will blow it, lose your temper, shirk your responsibility, shrug them off until tomorrow, hurt their feelings or make them feel bad about themselves. In short, you will sin against them not matter how hard you try not to.

2. You are not your mother. That could be good or bad. Perhaps you spent your childhood watching your mother slip deeper into mental illness. Perhaps your mother was infinitely patient and gentle. You are not her. Move on.

3. It's not personal; it's business. This Godfather quote is very appropriate. Your toddler isn't refusing to eat his food to piss you off. It's his job to decide what he likes and hates. He's handling that responsibility badly, but it's not got a thing in the world to do with you. Same goes with cleaning rooms, finding shoes, potty training, etc.

4. A good spanking is infinitely better than humiliation and shaming. They will forget the means of discipline if it is accompanied with love.

5. Stop. Stop what you are doing and make eye contact. That 60 seconds out of your day to stoop down, make eye contact and explain your expectations will make a lot of difference. To not do it will cost you more in the long run.

6. Pursue their hearts, not their behavior. Why is he having a meltdown? Why is she refusing to make eye contact? Why is he arguing? Any number of issues come to light when you pursue the heart. Maybe he's made an idol of those video games and needs you to step in between him and his idol, even though he'll get angry. Maybe she feels like you're not really listening to her, so why should she listen to you. When you want to kick them to the curb, stop and take a deep breath. Say a prayer and then dive into the murky water that is the soul of your child. Attempt to turn them towards the light.

7. Pray. Pray. Pray. Repent. Repent. Repent. Pray for their hearts, for their understanding, for them to see their sin. Repent of your impatience, your selfishness, your false identities, your pride.

8. Believe. Believe. Believe. That God loves them more than you can imagine. That He works in them. That He saves them, not you. That He is patient with you, and that gives you the grace to be patient with them.

9. Enjoy them. Watch them. Never choose sleep over a conversation. Be their biggest fan.

10. They are themselves, not reflections of you. They are people, just like you are people. They have aversions, pet peeves, guilty pleasures, and individual thought processes. Preteens especially crave to be valued for themselves. Stop trying to change them. That sweet boy that you tried desperately to indoctrinate and make love classical music may just like dubstep better. That's okay. It doesn't mean you have failed. It means he's his own person... with bad taste in music. (I kid.)

All of these things can be summed up in one: Love them. Love them, for themselves, not for how they reflect on you. Open your heart to them. Pour your energy into them. Adore them. Be their champion. And go back and read number 1 again.

With Glory Just Around the Corner

"... I couldn't get everything right...In addition, I was not achieving well..I had nothing to hide behind. This was a gift. With a light shining on my inadequacy I needed something I couldn't produce. Grace. I needed to hear I didn't and couldn't get it right, but I had someone I could run to who would embrace me like a dad after a game telling me he was honored to be my dad and was pleased I was playing the game. Through grace, I began to see God looked into my heart and not my performance and was simply pleased I was out practicing, competing and in the process of growing up. His grace said 'slow down and relax, this is a long process'." - Gordon Bahls

These are the words I needed to hear today.

If you continue in your faith for long enough, digging deeply into the heart of the Father, you will be confronted with your inability to "get it right". Sometimes people will say something that rips your insides to shreds. The one that seems to recur among my friends and in my readings is that you're not gifted. Maybe you don't finish what you start. Maybe you are so emotional that you're told you can't be trusted. Maybe it's something else. But it will hit you right in the deepest part of your heart. It's a piece of your heart previously untouched. A place that is so tender, so intimately personal that you feel you just can't recover. There is no going back. How can you even be in the same room with that person again? How can you attempt to share God's love with others when you are decimated and suddenly unsure of yourself.

This is not a singular issue. I can think of several friends and acquaintances walking this path. They limp along dripping brilliant drops of blood in their wake. Their limps are noticeable when you look in the right place. They struggle with despair and feelings of uselessness. They are told sometimes to suck it up, get over it, move on, or their necks are on the line. But their struggle is real.

Do you know what I have learned from these saints?

Go deeper. Deeper into the heart of God. Deep enough even to lie in the grave with Christ*, as it were. For in that place you find a balm for the aching, stinging, bleeding parts of your soul.

Abba is there. He holds us. He sustains us. He brings peace. He comforts us. He delights in us. Even when we get it wrong. Even when we screw it up. He dances over us and invites us into the dance.

What does it matter what man says? What can they do? Can they separate us from the love of God? (Romans 8:35) What does our reputation matter? So what if we can't get it right? 

The blessedness of owning nothing, in the words of Tozer. Wholly surrendered, utterly obedient, possessing nothing. Not owning our giftings, not our words, not the affirmation of others, not the approval of authority. But lying quietly in the grave with Christ, listening to the gentle whispers of the Father, not unlike Elijah in 1 Kings 19. Or as Brennan Manning puts it, "abiding restful union".

God does us a mercy when he prunes us. Think of the tree. It has two branches cut off; one because it is dead, but the other branch was producing fruit. So why, oh why, would you cut off that branch? John 15 says so that it will produce even more! It may feel like abandonment and punishment, but it is the picture Jesus gives to show abiding. He in us, and we in him. What a grace!

So what do we do then when confronted with the very person who does not love us well? How do we have a loving relationship with them when they are so unsafe? I don't have all the answers to that, it's still confusing to me as well, but... but maybe we should see them as the pruning sheers. Yes, they made us bleed, but they were in God's hands the whole time. And we are deeper in the arms of Jesus because of them.

"Friends, when life gets really difficult, don't jump to the conclusion that God isn't on the job. Instead, be glad that you are in the very thick of what Christ experienced. This is a spiritual refining process, with glory just around the corner." 1 Peter 4:12-13 The Message (italics mine)





*a line from Spurgeon's sermon entitled The Shame and The Spitting. Well worth reading.

A Few Thoughts This Beautiful Sunday Morning

I'm sitting here in my comfy bed watching the news before church. I'm still sleepy after a late night last night, but I'm wide awake. So here are a few thoughts...
1. I'm not as young as I used to be. The kids danced the night away at prom last night and were tireless. I on the other hand feel like I was run over by a truck. To be honest though, I don't think it was one night of activity that wore me out; the pace of my life is a little much sometimes.
2. It is a surreal feeling for the South to NOT be called the most racist area of the country. According to the news and a recent study, the Northeast is the most racist now. I think there are still strides to be made here, but there is a harmony. Maybe we learned our lesson through the Civil Rights movement. Our racial harmony is hard won.
3. For $300 million, I would let someone pound the heck out of me too. This boxing match is insane. Insane. People paid $10,000 per person to watch two small men beat each other up. I do not understand.
4. I leave for my annual girl trip in a few days. For 14 years now my husband has given me a few days off with my friends and I cannot recommend it enough. It is so appreciated.
Well, time for church. That is all.

So I'll Remember

Today, I got to play with a doll house. I played with a doll house with the sweetest little old lady name Sarah. We cleaned it and then we put all the pieces back into the house. I handed her pieces of furniture and then together we would decide where they should be placed and Mrs Sarah would place them. Should the clock go on the mantle or is it too big? What do you think of putting the sewing machine in the baby's room? Oh, look how cute that vase is! Then we would giggle together and fold our hands under our chins and smile. When we were done, we plugged it in and I took pictures.

While the rest of the Preservation Society slaved away with Murphys Oil Soap and Windex, Mrs Sarah and I relived a bit of our childhoods together and it was the most fun I've had in a long time. Just thought I'd write it down so that I'll never forget it.

Why Do You Travel So Much?

I get asked why I travel so much. I've even overheard someone say something disparaging about my travel frequency. It's got me to thinking today and remembering something I wrote on a train in England.

I would LOVE to address the overheard conversation, but I cannot think of a way to do that without defending myself and bringing up deep wounds from the past. That would accomplish nothing edifying and would only stir things up. So we will ignore it.

So the question, or questions, before us today are why do I love to travel so much? I think the better question is why do I travel at all? To where do I travel?

Not to state the obvious, but traveling enables me to see a place. That may sound redundant, but I think it's an important point. Seeing a place gives an experience of that place, and experience causes a relationship to be formed. It is a relationship between the intellect and the heart. Suddenly, something imagined in the intellect, perceived in the mind through accounts and photographs is reconfigured, reoriented into a 'real' place with life and movement. It is much easier to remember a real place. Your heart can hear it, smell it, watch it. Travel for the sake of travel is much like doing anything for the sake of itself, it is empty. But travelling to make something more real, to connect it to your heart, is a different matter entirely.

So the next question is, to where do I travel?

Anywhere can be a destination really. It could be a place from a childhood picture book or the home of distant relatives. It could be the subject of a song or poem. Or... it could be the home of a friend.

I have friends who are ministers of the Gospel in other countries and I've learned something from watching them. One, it is hard. Two, they are often forgotten.

I think we would all assume that their jobs wouldn't be easy. Surely, we think, these missionaries knew this going into it. They're smart people after all. They're prepared. Right? Well, let me ask. Are you always prepared for hard things? Maybe we are, but does that somehow make it magically not hard anymore? Can we then skip through the death of a loved one just because we knew it would be hard? It's an irrational and selfish way of thinking.

Now if they are experiencing hardship, loneliness, discouragement or tiredness, how can I help? Sometimes, it is writing a prayer on a card and mailing it. Sometimes, sending a package. Sometimes... I travel. I can travel to bring them peanut butter or books. I can walk their familiar paths. I can go to their place and in that place, offer encouragement. When I do that, problem two disappears. They are no longer forgotten.

The beautiful thing for me, the traveler, is that in the process, I meet their friends and make them my own. In this way, the kingdom of God unfolds before me and I see another thread of the great tapestry that God has woven. But be warned, making new friends, especially brothers and sister in Christ, is one of the most beautiful, edifying and heart-rending things one can do in this life. Heart-rending because it necessarily means saying good-by, sometimes until eternity.

Sometimes I think this traveling can bring sadness. Sadness at the brokenness in this world. Sadness at having to say goodbye again. Sadness at seeing struggle and not being able to do anything about it. But that sadness can and should be lifted up by hope, for God is not done. God has not forgotten his ministers or abandoned them in the harvest field.

I travel, not just for myself; I travel for my children and future grandchildren. The first trip had the effect of God exploding in size in my own mind. The second trip changed everything. Maggie felt the call to missions. Ty felt the call to become a pilot. We all felt the renewed call to church planting. Massive things happened because of that trip.

I have been to the very southern tip of Ireland, where the wind is wild and the sea is gray. I have stood at the foot of the Eiffel Tower at night when it was glittering with light. I have trudged through the mist and fog of the Lake District. I've stood outside Westminster Cathedral and listened to Big Ben chime noon. I have hiked in Yorkshire and had my breath stolen by its beauty. I have walked reverently through the shell of a cathedral in Coventry and whispered to its ghosts. And I have met Emma, Liberty, Dan and Lorna. I have laughed with Laura and picked up kids from school with Dana and bought groceries with Ginger. I have lived and been real and I will never regret it.

So to ask me why I travel is to ask me why I write or make friends. It is a question I can try to answer but it is too deep, too big, to ever truly be able to explain. You might as well ask me to catch the wind. It's too mysterious for that.

If you ever get the chance to travel, I encourage you to take it. Take it with both hands and maybe even give it a hug. Go to that new place with an open heart, expecting to meet new family and possibly have your heart broken. Go. Love. Hope. See God in a brand new light.

Understand

There are so many things in life that I just don't understand.

I don't understand people who stir up drama. I can spot them a mile away. They always say things like, I'm not one to stir up drama, but...

I don't understand what's happening in Missouri right now. How is looting, arson, and robbery going to make white people like, trust and treat black people any better? Won't it have the opposite effect?

I don't understand why people that the church has sent as missionaries are so quickly forgotten. Aren't we responsible for the ones we send?

I don't understand how once strong, deeply connected church leaders get so far off track. Why doesn't the Spirit expose their pride before they destroy other people? Or call them to repentance?
I don't understand a lot of things. Some things I think I might understand, but then find out I really didn't have a clue. Other times, I do understand.

I understand my own faithlessness. I lose heart, give up, give in, have a pity party, and wallow. I understand my shallow faith that is so quick to forget the Father who loves me and has everything in His hand. I understand my fear that maybe this is all a joke or maybe I'm not saved after all; the fear that I'll completely fall on my face.

I understand that my sin entangles me like the thorns and briars of a young wood. It snatches at my hair, grips my clothes, cuts me and scrapes my skin, then leaves it's poison to add an ongoing ache.

I understand suffering. The separation and grief of death. The quiet and bone -deep sorrow of listening to a loved one's final breath. The agony of trying to get life's last blood out of carpet. The terror of PTSD.

I understand it because I've lived it.

I may not understand God, but I cling to Him by faith. I wrap my arms and legs as tightly as my spiritual muscles can hold. I shout the truth of His love and forgiveness until my throat is hoarse. And when I am too tired, too weak, too faithless and fearful, I surround myself with friends who will keep shouting it to me.

Thankfulness

Tonight I am thankful for many things.

There are things in my life that aren't exactly fun, like my stupid teeth. More specifically, the infected socket that was scraped for fifteen minutes by my dentist and now seems to be feverish. That pretty much sucks. Or like one of my most favorite people in the whole wide world, my Uncle Teddy. What an amazingly wonderful man, who is currently struggling physically with fungal meningitis and complications. That sucks. Or the irritating and completely self-involved customer who just left us a bad review because, *gasp* her food took 45 minutes to come to her table when the restaurant was packed and she's confronted with the fact that she is NOT the center of the known universe. Yeah, that sucks too.

But...

In the midst of all that, I am thankful.

Thankful that I live in the age of dental implants. Otherwise I would be the poor lady with no teeth and terrible halitosis.

Thankful that I have had the blessing of Teddy Jones in my life for the past 41 years. Thankful that he has loved me and my children and husband so well. Thankful that his love for his sister, my mother, connects me to her still. Thankful for the way he can point out my sin with one phrase, "Now Cris." Thankful that he is getting medical treatment and will be with me a bit longer.

Thankful that I get to be a part of a restaurant that has a voice for the gospel in my town. Thankful that people, for the most part, love being there and use us a gathering spot. Thankful that, but for a very unkind people, we can make people smile and be happy.

I am also thankful for the hours spent with my children, remembering funny stories or laughing about old movies, or talking about their future. I am thankful that they want to talk to Chris and I about dating and sin and really, really important things. I am thankful that all those years of thankless sacrifice have a reward and I get to see it and experience it.

I am thankful for friends who are honest and share their struggles. Thankful that with grace, we can be open and transparent about our sins and craziness and not be destroyed and condemned. I am thankful that the best people I know want to be my friend. That's amazing to me.

Now I am off to bed because my pain medicine will kick in soon and my face hurts and I have to get up early in the morning.

Inner Life and Personal Theology

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm off the mark, but I think we don't need to know everything our loved ones think. Maybe there's such a thing as too much honesty.

When I'm tired I think mean, selfish thoughts. When I'm selfish, I wish that other people would just do things my way and be happy about it. When I'm in my flesh, I think things completely opposed to what my redeemed inner self truly believes.

Out of the heart the mouth speaks... but does that apply to my redeemed and reborn heart? In Romans 7, Paul explains that the flesh is a separate entity from who I am in Christ. "So it is no longer I who do it (sin), but sin that dwells within me." So that evil that comes out of my mouth, is the evil that lies close at hand. (V21)

I don't know all the deep things of God. I DO know that I don't want to know the grumpy, selfish thoughts of my closest friends towards me. There is grace to cover that. I let love cover that sin. (1 Peter 4:8) And I don't want them to know my grumpy, selfish, sinful thoughts- that's why I try very hard to not say them out loud. That's why gossip is so destructive; it indulges the flesh. The very flesh that should be crucified daily, not fed and petted.

Rambling That Led to an Epiphany

My second child had his last first day of school. He isn't the most chipper person of a morning so no photos were taken. How is it possible that I'll graduate another child this year? That this man-child is really my sweet baby boy who refused to sleep in his own bed for the first year of his life? It stuns me sometimes.

My oldest child will be leaving the country in 10 weeks. Leaving. The. Country. How can my heart stand it?

Have you ever had a time in your life when things that happen are so deep, so troubling, so exhausting, that you just couldn't bring yourself to articulate them? When the things that trouble you aren't huge, traumatic, attention-getters, but rather tiny little shards of glass in your soul? Almost innocuous looking, but painful nonetheless.

I miss my father-in-law beyond anything I thought possible. How can the world keep spinning when he is not here to guide us? I miss everything about him.

...

What were those other things that were bothering me? My grief is blotting them from my sight momentarily.

Oh yeah...

I broke my foot. I don't want to talk about that, but suffice it to say, I don't like my cat very much.

Customers at work can be such selfish buttheads. It's hard not to get my feelings hurt sometimes. That sounds so shallow, but when you pour your time and energy into a kingdom endeavor and Captain You Planet comes along and tries to destroy you on social media because their chip basket didn't get refilled fast enough... well, it can turn a person against humankind for a time.

I miss my Nanny. The happiest times of my childhood were spent at her side. I've realized in the past month that she anchored me to my mother and my great-grandmother. Now she is gone and I am the anchor for my children. It's lonely in my life without her.

My kids are growing up so quickly and it makes me grieve. I adore them so deeply and spending time with them is the best part of my life. When they are grown, will they still long for me and home? Will they remember all I've taught them? Will they lay down their lives for this eternal kingdom God is building?

I wish I could communicate to my friends with little ones what all those well-meaning people mean when they say "enjoy this time". Little ones are so hard. They cry and throw fits and loose your keys and get snot all over everything. They break your nice things and refuse to eat your fancy food. They leave their toys everywhere and refuse to flush the toilet. They fight and bicker and slap at each other. They keep you up at night and wake up too early in the morning. They, generally speaking, ruin the life you've become accustomed to. They take and take... and just when you think you have nothing left, they start to give back. They gain wisdom and understanding. They clean up after themselves, bathe without being told, drive themselves to work. They begin to do for themselves and in the process, allow you to get back to that life they previously ruined. You can start sleeping all night and your house stays cleaner. You can sleep later and have nice things. But the trade off is they start getting ready to leave you. There are times when the lack of sleep and snotty noses seem like a worthy trade-off if it means you can keep them close for a little while longer.

I don't know if that is true for everyone but it is very true for me. Life is always changing and it makes my head spin. My dear friend reminded me today to make an event of my grief. It does more harm than good to try to soldier on and get over myself. There are things in my life that need to be lamented. I've lost loved ones to death; I'm losing children to life. My life, it is a-changing.