:the one where i meet her in the small moments:

it's a gentle nudge in the moments before the sun has topped the trees. a calling of sorts. there was a time when it was something to be checked off my list. devotions? check. prayer? check. now it is like a friend waiting with coffee in hand to hear about my best and worst moments. she leans in as i whisper the things that haunt my soul, my struggles. her brows furrow as she takes in every word, branding them on her heart. when i cry, she cries. when i laugh, she laughs. she nods her head as i pour out. she's been there. she's walked this road before.

she reminds me of her love and the folly of it all.
that is why i meet her in the morning.


*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday
*just writing with heather the eo

:the one where i talk politics:

in the days preceding the election my heart felt heavy. i'm a fan and frequent user of social media but in regards to politics it became down right poisonous, spewing venom in every direction. well meaning people writing ugly, hateful things in the name of jesus. i felt anger in my heart more than once for insults voiced that i took personal.

conversations and studies involved the election process. we watched shows, thank you very much PBS for using Martha Speaks and Arthur to make politics tangible for my five year old. i took all three kiddos with me to vote so they could see first hand how things work. eisley asked questions and i answered them to the best of my ability. one day she expressed her desire for a particular candidate to win, who was not my choice. i asked her why and we had a conversation over snack about our political views. at the end of the talk we were still friends. she did not insult me, nor I, her.

as i thought back on our conversation i realized it would never occur to eisley to dislike me or lose respect for me because my views are different from hers. i am still the same mommy that makes her breakfast every morning and comforts her when she is scared at night. who we vote for does not change who we are. it is not a barometer for worth.

so the day after the election i avoided social media as a whole. instead of fuming over statements out of my control and making unnecessary judgements....

we baked.

we colored pilgrims.
we giggled.
we blessed friends and family.
we ate lots of pumpkin bread.
we took pride in hard work.
we solidified our forever friendship, in spite of our differences with love, laughter and lollipops.

let us go on loving one another.

:the one where i am thankful for puke and snot:

more times that i can count, i looked down to see my stunning, blue eyed, boy looking up to me, tissue in hand, an offering in exchange for a clean nose. red cheeks and fever haunted him throughout the day, affecting his ability to play. he wanted to play, with all of his might, he wanted to play. but his little body would only allow him a few moments of enjoyment before weakness took over.

baby girl took a bath in banana vomit, twice. twice i changed her soaked clothing and bathed her tiny frame. twice i changed her sheets. twice i snuggled her and put her to bed, hopeful she would rest well.

at the end of the day, i fell into the couch, exhausted. the weight of my body sank into the leather, while my favorite blanket melted over my tired legs. for a moment i felt frustrated. frustrated that the things i needed to accomplish today were still incomplete. the floors still dirty. the laundry still hidden in the dryer.

a text changed my perspective.

"my sister found out she lost the baby today."

i laid in a pool of my own tears, my mama heart breaking with hers.

i woke the next morning with a renewed spirit and an altered attitude. i wiped noses and bottoms with a thankful heart. i cleaned up puke with gratitude. i answered calls in the night with joy and patience.

today i am running on three hours sleep and a heart full of fresh mercy. i lingered over baby girl snuggles this morning and laughed hard at the new found comedy between the little guy and his daddy. i will continue to linger and breath in these fleeting moments with a thankful heart. for my children are a gift, puke, snot and all.

:the one where we aren't really good at it:

teaching kids to live in love, compromise and show kindness at all cost is hard work. i think it's because we aren't really good at it ourselves, or at least i'm not.

first day of swim class and lieutenant hard-core stands in front, dividing the children into groups. i sit, thinking to myself, i'll be like jesus until she's mean to my kid, then all bets are off. turns out lieutenant hard-core is actually lieutenant teddy-bear but when you've got forty kids in water that do and don't know how to swim, lieutenant hard-core is quite welcome.

he walked by and shoved her bike over for no apparent reason other than he's a boy and boys like to damage things. she cried the cry of one thousand bee stings. i met the little dude on the side walk, eyebrows high, in true mama form.

 it was an accident mommy!
well then help her pick it up buddy.
he did immediately followed by an i'm sorwy eiswy, unprompted.

moments later she was teaching him to ride his bike, cheering peddle durgin! peddle! while jumping up and down.

this back and forth, tossing on the sea of kindness and cruelty, singing hosanna one minute and crucify him the next, never stops, does it?

growing every day, learning to balance the two, taming the latter. bringing every thought into submission until we become like him.

giving without expecting return.
going the extra mile.
turning the other cheek.

we will walk this road together little ones, learning as we go, for two (or three) are better than one.

:the one where i follow him in the joy and wreckage of life:

he shared from the heart about the love of god. spoke of forgiveness. like many others he emphasized the importance of leaving the past in the past. he gave an illustration of trying to drive while looking in the rearview mirror and how that would present itself difficult. so we should keep our eyes forward in life, not looking to the past.

move forward.
don't look back.
god has forgiven it, you need to forget it.

i've heard it a lot lately. when i hear it i think about my past. the ugly messy past. there were some rough patches, poor decisions and nasty consequences. parts of it erect pain. other parts, shame. yet i cannot leave it in the past. i cannot only look forward and move on. this is my story. the past, present and future. my story woven into his plans. he uses it all. i am who i am because of the past. in spite of it even.

the past shaped me.
the past influences the decisions i make today.
the past is still teaching me lessons.
the past created a heart of compassion for young people.
the past developed an undying love to my husband.
the past has helped me choose my friends wisely.
the past is teaching me to love a jesus-down-in-the-trenches kind of love.

the past plays a major role in my future....and maybe yours too.

forgiven? yes.
forgotten? no.

"churches should be places where people come to hear the story of god and to tell their own. that's how we find out how the two relate. tell your story with all of its shadows and fog, so people can understand their own. they want a leader who's authentic, someone trying to figure out how to follow the lord jesus in the joy and wreckage of life."

-chasing francis; a pilgrim's tale (ian morgan cron)

::how to encourage those in crisis::

he came in as he always does after assessing the babies. we perked up ready to hear that we had brought another awesome kid into the world. when my eyes met his, my heart dropped, and i knew something was not right.

he went on to describe an episode he witnessed in our newborn baby. i felt the tears welling up and fought them tooth and nail. the doctor walked out and my eyes found his, the one who would carry this burden with me and we fell apart together.

he made all the phone calls.
he handled all the text messages.
he stepped forward and let me withdraw.

they came and took our baby. two of the most precious women along the way- the transport team. they were gentle and compassionate. totally aware of the difficulty we were facing as parents in letting our 1 day old baby girl be taken away by strangers to a strange place.

we made our way to the NICU and found our baby girl in the hands of another angel. she loved on rohen holding her, stroking her hair, sweet talking her as if she were her own. she along with several doctors informed us that she would be there at least 4 days for blood work and testing to see what caused her episode.

four days seemed like an eternity to me.
four days that turned into a week seemed even longer, until i met her.
she said "you must be new here."
i said, "no, we've been here a week."
she said, gently with her hand on my shoulder, "you're new here."

she had been there seven weeks and would be going home with her little one soon. another woman and her baby had been there 107 days and would be going home the monday following our discharge. in retrospect, one week is so minimal in comparison to what most go through. but each day is drawn out and overwhelming when you are in crisis.


{a few things that encouraged us during this time}

• phone calls and text messages galore. i often did not answer the phone if someone called (had to keep those flood gates closed) but the voice mail and text messages were so encouraging.
• a friend of jacob's sister sent us a basket full of snacks, roll of quarters and coloring books for the kids.
• another family member sent money for meals. we ate nearly every meal in the hospital cafeteria and it did get a bit pricey.
• friends and family brought coffee and meals numerous times.
• a friend came and took jacob out to dinner one night, his wife sent socks and a hoodie and my favorite tea.
• friends came and brought our favorite candy.
• family and friends took time to sit with us, laugh with us and show they care.
• our family cleaned our house and washed our clothes so we wouldn't have to wear the same thing the whole week.
• our family arranged for our two darlings, 5 and 2 to be cared for the entire week and we never had to worry.
• my father-in-law and brother-in-law jumped off our van when the battery went dead. (i may or may not have left the interior light on)
• everyone gets credit for overlooking the terrible smell of our stinky feet from wearing the same pair of toms all week. (however, i did get a new pair mid-week and i will share that story another time)
• prayer. lots and lots of prayer.

more to come on our NICU story.

luke 8:50

"hearing this, jesus said to jarius, don't be afraid, just believe and she will be healed."

what are some other ways to reach out to those in crisis?

::thoughts on trust::

i find it difficult to trust.
to trust the provision of sacrifice.
to trust the walking on water.
to trust the healing of a sick loved one or bringing them back to life.
to trust the hungry will be fed.
to trust the provisions for tomorrow like the lillies and the birds.
to trust the good things that are working out around me.

then i read something like this and see provision.
then i talk with this person and see healing.
then i discover this and this and see the hungry fed.
then i talk with this person

and she tells me that we should make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and feed those that don't have any food. that we should give them some of our toys. that we would share our clothes and she is jesus with skin on.

then i remember
"there is much that we cannot understand, but our lack of comprehension neither negates nor eliminates it" written by madeleine l'engle and i find comfort.

whether i trust or not god is at work.
providing.
healing.
feeding.
loving.
so today i will trust that which i cannot understand and rest in gratitude as i soak it all in.

i'd love to hear your thoughts on trust.

:the story::

:

sabbath.
it begins with early morning cries from the boy. our time together has a starting place. he asked for cheerios in a language only mommy can understand. then a follow-up question, always expected, "where's daddy?" this kid is crazy about his daddy.

i start the chocolate chip muffins, a sunday morning ritual of sorts.

then the coffee....always coffee.
while waiting for it to brew strong i mix up cream for topping. my children know this sound and come running for the sweetness left on the beaters. they lick away all that is left and stand with faces covered in sticky goodness.

they not-so-patiently wait for the timer for the muffins to alarm. when it does, each takes their place for the warm-gooey goodness.
they have been served and i have loved serving them.

i sit, finally, coffee in hand.
thoughts about last nights bible reading with eisley flood my mind. the prodigal son and how her bible book pointed out that  jesus told stories so people could know what god is like.

i wonder, does my life tell a story that shows others what god is like?

these are the thoughts that fill my day.
sabbath.


*linking up with heather for life made lovely

::he is involved [take 3]::

:photo:

as we were driving to meet with him my friend said in passing, "he couldn't even walk a few years ago. he only got around on a scooter."

it baffled me for a minute, having encountered him once before, and he seemed like the picture of health.

later we sat and he spoke with his thick southern accent, reminding me of a football coach, with deep blue eyes that became misty at times.

he explained the degenerative neurological disorder that has eight descriptive words in the entire name- that i could not repeat let alone spell. he shared how it revealed itself his last year of medical school and progressed over the following twenty years. every pressure point on his body caused excrutiating pain. he described it as the pain you have when you hit your funny bone, magnified by one million.

he couldn't walk.
he had to sleep with several pillows tucked into various places to relieve the pressure. just as he would get settled to fall asleep he would have to use the restroom. however, his body would not function properly so he had to catheterize himself. then go back to bed and repeat the process of tucking pillows here and there to get comfortable. finally, passing out from exhaustion for at most, two hours at a time.

he had been to every specialist.
he was taking the most pain medication he could without stopping his breathing and it didn't touch what he was feeling.
there was no cure.
there still isn't a cure.
people do not get well with this disease.

the words he spoke brought tears to my eyes.
"i bought a gun. it was going to be my last christmas."


i sat perched on the edge of my seat hanging on every word he said. i'm captivated by medical mysteries. i asked, "so how did you get better?"


he hesitated with his response. squeezing lemon into his tea. eyes fixed away, remembering.
he was vague.
careful with his answer.
"it was from above."


i didn't move. i needed more details.

i am constantly looking for god's involvement in every day life. in my search, i have learned that he is involved when i am involved and that he might just need my help to accomplish all he desires. but this....this is different. this is the healing recorded in the bible. this is the type of thing i question if it still happens.

he went onto say that a family member had been asking him to come to a prayer meeting. he is a believer, still hesistant, he resisted for a long while. as a last resort and to the brink of breaking with pain he could no longer endure, he said yes.

by the end of the week after the prayer meeting his nerve function showed 25% improvement.
within two weeks it had improved 50%.
within a month it had improved 75%.

he is walking.
he no longer feels pain.
he is healed.

how are you seeing god's involvment in every day life?

*linking up with heather for just write

::he is involved [take 2]::

i am constantly looking for god's involvement in my life and the lives of other people. i question almost daily why he doesn't step in and do something about the children being sold into slavery and sex trafficking? why doesn't he make food fall from heaven in the horn of africa? why doesn't he heal those children that fill brenners hospital from cancer?

then i have conversations like the one i had with krissy. she didn't say anything new but she said exactly what i needed to hear.

last night i was reading traveling mercies by ann lamott and came across this passage:

Again and again, I tell God I need help, and God says, "Well isn't that fabulous? Because I need help too. So you go get that old woman over there some water, and I'll figure out what we're going to do about your stuff." Maybe Rick [who has stage four cancer in this story] had told God (as he understands God) that he needed some energy that morning, and God had said,"Well great, because Sam Lamott needs a ride to school. Could you do that for me? And I'll be getting your some strength."

another example of how when we get involved, god gets involved. or maybe i should say his involvement becomes evident.

i am processing these thoughts.
i am aware and looking for opportunities for when god might need my help.
for i am convinced, when i am involved, god is involved.

i'd love to hear your thoughts. when and where do you see god's involvement?

::he is involved::

she sat next to me, coffee in hand, listening as i asked the question i always ask.

why isn't he involved?
where is he in this situation?

she knows my heart. my struggles of belief and doubt.
she spoke wisdom.

he is involved.
this is when god says, i am waiting for you to to love this person. i am waiting for you to step into this situation. i live in you. when you are involved, i am involved.

my defenses grew.
i thought to myself, look at the circumstances of her life. couldn't he just step in and do something.

later i thought about her words of wisdom when my defenses and need to be right had ceased.

if his involvement is evident when i become involved then...

::the nights that sleep won't come::

:photo:

it was but the slightest thump thump.
below the surface.
so gentle i had to be still and prayed for quiet so i could notice it again.
the little one making itself known.

those nights when sleep simply won't come, i place my hands just below my belly button and wait, nearly holding my breath.
thump thump.
comfort washes over me and holds me like a warm blanket.
i think of Him. the creator of all things.
it is in these moments that i trust Him most.

He is here.
He is present.
He is involved.
He is still creating in and through me.

:photo:

He is the potter, i am the clay.
the clay...spinning and molding and being shaped with the promise of beauty in the end.

how are you recognizing Him today?


* better late than never, linking up with heather's {just write}*

::jesus and monkeys::

"if i've learned anything over the past five years it's that doubt is the mechanism by which faith evolves. it helps us cast off false fundamentals so that we can recover what has been lost or embrace what is new. it is a refining fire, a hot flame that keeps our faith alive and moving and bubbling about, where certainty would only freeze it on the spot."

-Rachel Held Evans :: Monkey Town

just finished reading Monkey Town by Rachel Held Evans. her journey is unbelievably close to mine. so many of her words hit home and speak volumes to me. i highly recommend this book to anyone on a journey of faith and discovery. to read more of rachel's work stop by her blog.

:stand up and speak:

***

"then peter stood up with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd..." 

acts 2:14

peter.
a fisherman.
called to fish for people.
peter.
a follower of jesus.
peter.
over zealous...yet afraid when push came to shove.


can you imagine the overwhelming feeling of despair peter must have felt when jesus died and was buried?

what just happened?
this wasn't the plan?
the empire was supposed to change?
we were supposed to lead a revolution?
i thought we were striving for something.
my whole world.....upside down.
dead?
he's dead?
what did the words he spoke mean?
was he really the messiah? the chosen one?
or was he just full of it....and i was gullable?

fast forward a few days...
jesus goes back to the place he first called peter.
jesus calls him again.
peter... "what about that guy?"
jesus: "if i want him to remain alive until i return, what is that to you? you must follow me."

fast forward a bit more....
"then peter stood up with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd..."

you have a voice.
jesus is calling you... "follow me."
no matter your mistakes.
no matter your history.
no matter your doubt.
no matter your fears.
"follow me."
use your voice.
speak to the crowd....or the one.
"follow me."

::endure the rain::

::photo::

knucles white as i tighten my grip on the stearing wheel. i hate driving in the rain. nerves take over and every moment feels like i'm slipping. about to loose control and spin into a fatal destiny. i worry. i look for the end. i keep pressing forward. the only way out is through. through the rain. through the darkness and fog that hovers so low i can hardly see. through the turmoil that overtakes me.

it goes on forever...or so it seems.
when will this end?
surely i'm through the worst.
surely there is clarity over this hill....or the next...or the next.

and then when i am over it. about to pull over and wave my white flag to say i cannot continue. there it is. sky peeking through the clouds. just barely but i can see it. i can see the end. my shoulders are less tense now. i know it is almost over. the worst is past.

i see green. everywhere green. lush green trees and beautiful flower blossoms.
beauty.
all around beauty.

it's the rain that gives life to those trees.
it's the rain that brightens that shade of green.
it's the rain that fill the flowers full so that blooms emerge.
it's the rain that makes it beautiful.
without the rain, there is no growth.