:the one where he shouted and i moved:

he ran the full length of the platform with enthusiasm. he shouted and sweated a lot. i am unsure why someone yelling would motivate me to a deeper relationship with christ. but it did. by the end of the night, fueled by adrenaline and the emotion of thousands of students around me, i found myself face down on the nasty stadium floor.

it wasn't part of my plan, this place. this university that required skirts below the knee, curfews and supervised dates. this university that did not allow television, shorts or secular music. this university that teaches the earth is 6,000 years old, dinosaurs were on the ark, and certainty saves.

the selfishness of my eighteen year old existence wanted desperately to leave town. the town that i now, can never imagine leaving. the town where three grandparents, two aunts and uncles, five first cousins and thirty plus extended family reside.  yet i needed to leave. i needed a fresh start. i needed a place where no one knew me and that's exactly what i got.

i left high school a believer, at least when people were watching. i care far too much about what others think. both a flaw and a virtue.

i left college a in love with the One that loved me first, last and all the moments in between.

in the months following the sweaty-man-marathon-inspired-conversion. i developed a love for the written word. the WORD. i woke up early and went to bed late devouring every word inspired by Him. i read oswald chamber's my utmost for his highest daily, certain that each page was written specifically for me at that place and time.

i quickly climbed the spiritual ladder set before me and became a small group leader on my hall. five girls came to my room each week to read scripture and be encouraged. little did i know this was paving the way to the future when girls would grace my home weekly, growing us both by leaps and bounds.

as part of the small group leader requirements, i met with my SLD (spiritual life director) once a week for accountability.

accountability [noun]: the state of being accountable, liable or answerable. 

the day before my meetings my stress level went through the roof.

what if i couldn't remember what i had read in my devotions?
what if i couldn't articulate how god was working in my life this week?
what if i was not spiritual enough?
what if i was not growing enough?

i popped my knuckles as i waited outside her door. my stomach in knots.

***

we leaned over the table close to hear each other. music loud and people too close for comfort in a coffee shop. she talked about her marriage and family. i did the same. we talked about our love for simplicity and our belief that we are called to live simply and love extravagantly. loving extravagantly looks different from one person to the next. we are all working out our own salvation. we laughed loud and hard and cried a little too. at the end of the night i felt full to the brim in my soul. though we never opened the bible or prayed, i felt holy. i thought of kicking off my shoes for the holy ground we stood upon.

what is holy but what is sacred, dedicated to god?
what is sacred but what is dedicated to some religious purpose, consecrated?

let us dedicate our moments to god, encouraging one another to do good, love him and love others.
take off your shoes sisters, for we are standing on holy ground.

:the one where we turn on a small light:

so, i am not what i thought i'd be. trying to figure out how to practice the way of jesus with my children by my side keeping them safe, yet reaching out into the ugly-messy that is all around us.

it's so simple for my children. this has to be what jesus was talking about when he said the kingdom of god belongs to such as these. kids keep it simple. i'm trying to figure out how i can get to the homeless shelter with three kids in tow because jesus reached out to the homeless and was after all, homeless, and my children are bringing heaven to earth right where they are.

we went to the grocery store to get supplies to bake bread for our neighbors. never a small feat with three under five. i dressed and loaded three precious little ones into the mini van and we made our way. i unloaded them giving them a pep talk about not running, being good listeners and using their manners.

we started down the aisle and they started saying hello to every person we passed. they made eye contact and waved. one older gentleman, in particular, took to them. he watched them with joy strewn across his face. he delighted in my children and they in him. he giggled as they were fascinated by the toys that lined the rows saying i'm just gonna look mommy. he was not bothered when they ran in front of his buggy or twirled into his space. their joy was contagious and he caught what they were passing around with an open hand.

after loading babies and groceries into the van, then unloading once we arrived home, we began baking. what would normally take me twenty minutes took about an hour. we talked and giggled and eisley took in new skills. i found myself in awe of this little one with such a big heart. we packaged our bread and delivered it to our neighbors and she felt the joy of giving with no agenda, expecting nothing in return. that joy spilled over into my mama heart, a rare and precious treasure to be pondered all of my days.

we are all ordinary people. who can within our own small ways 

turn on a small light in a dark room 

-miep gies

:the one where Virginia, Santa & Jesus intersect:

she asked to watch a movie while the babies napped. we snuggled close under the brown blanket that can always be found thrown over the back of our couch. we chose Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus for viewing pleasure. i fully intended to sneak in a little shut-eye while she took in the show, but i couldn't. i was captivated.

instantly displeased with charlotte, the wealthy little girl that lacked love and projected this lacking on to the other children with cruelty. she is the one that crushed Virginia's spirit when she wrote a letter to the editor asking if there was a santa.

yet the man, homeless and begging in a dirty old santa suit, only asking for a penny, receiving none. he was the hero. he was the one that said the words that are still ringing in my mind. the words, i wrote down in blue ink on scrap paper with rain clouds drawn by my snuggle buddy.

"believing in santa isn't something you prove,
it's something you do"

i often struggle with god's involvement in our lives. like when a woman i know, carried her baby nearly to term only to lose it, deliver and never know it's warmth. or when i watched that documentary on sex slavery and saw innocence stolen from some as young as three years old. and that time our friend was in a car accident, i laid in the floor in a pool of my own tears begging god to spare his sixteen year old life and he didn't. these things trouble me.

then there are times where he is so present i am certain of his involvement. like when baby girl was in the NICU and our family and friends gathered round and never left us. nurses sang hymns, unknowingly lifting my weary spirit. or as people rescue babies left and right from a predestined life of sex slavery through adoption.i see him in a friend who carpools my child because the babies are sick. and that fourteen year old boy that was told he had lymphoma, flew to St. Judes childrens hospital to be told it was merely and infection, not cancer. that church family that swoons over baby girl and holds me tight as wounds heal. i see him in friendships and surprise parties planned. i see him in home studies and first sentences read. i see him in mothers uniting to grow up givers of self and lovers of all. i see him in babies announced with dancing and tears around the camptire.

i see him, in action and in deed.
i see him beyond absolutes and doxologies and ideologies.
i see him in the doing.

let us do.


*linking up with carissa for miscellany monday

:the one with candy corn and jesus:

i walked into the room and saw him in the floor. mouth full of candy corn with the open jar right in front of him. i looked at him and said his name, he fell into my lap crying mountains of tears speaking words i couldn't understand. i said nothing for a moment. the weight of the situation shocked me to silence.

far too many times in my wanderings have i found myself somehwhere that was not part of His plan. too many times the road of feel good was more desirable than the road of right. i have been there, little one. red handed, dirty, mouth full of things unlovely and impure. then grace entered in and my wandering turned to dwelling. dwelling in grace, for there is always enough.

grace poured from the depths of my soul on to my boy that day. grace that was used but never used up. grace that covers a multitude of wrongs and continues to cover.

i hugged him and told him he was forgiven and that mommy was not mad at him. tears the size of gum drops overflowed the rim of those brilliant blue eyes and he knew.

forgiveness.



*just writing with heather

:the one where it doesn't change who you are, it reveals who you are:

she spoke with poise and confidence. i looked on in admiration, the first lady, a mother. the melody of her words have echoed in my mind repeatedly.

 

"becoming president doesn't change who you are, it reveals who you are."

 

of course i gave up my dream of presidency long ago, but i am a mother. the same rings true in motherhood.

 

becoming a mother doesn't change who you are, it reveals who you are.

 

all the insecurities and fears i thought i had overcome rise to the surface when babies are born. realizing i am both completely selfish and unselfish. wanting time for myself yet giving every second away to six blue eyes looking up at me in need. realizing i am human and super-human in that humans yell and fail sometimes. super-humans love this crazy irrational love that heals all wounds and knows no bounds. realizing my materialism, yet choosing to simplify because "the most important things in life aren't things." realizing motherhood is my kryptonite bringing me to my knees in weakness. yet finding over and over again He is my strength.

 

no becoming a mother does not change who you are, it reveals who you are. the ugly-messy-beautiful,

:the one where it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt:

he popped his blonde head up as soon as i opened the door, are we going to the post office and the park? yes, the post office then the park buddy. i promised an after nap adventure and an after nap adventure we would have topped with a little education. we've been studying community helpers and what better way to learn than to see the people and places in person.

the post office was tthe first stop. not an easy task with three little ones and not a task i normally look forward to. however, today i approached it as a learning experience. a sweet gentleman let me and my crew go ahead of him which i think he probably regretted quickly. the computer froze and would not process my shipment. of course no one behind me knew that. so that gentleman had to wait much longer than he anticipated.

we talked about community helpers and they asked the sweet lady behind the counter some questions and chatted with her daughter, a fifth grader, while we waited. they asked for snack about 350 times but maintained their composure, thank you jesus.

next up the park to see the ducks. they played and laughed and got entirely too close to the water giving me heart palpatations. i watched the older ones closely as i planned different rescue maneuvers in my mind in case they happened to fall in. not long into our adventure, the coopster spots a tree she simply must climb. the little dude and i plop down on a bench so he can finish his snack while baby girl just hangs out in the stroller. moments later eisley screams and comes over crying rubbing her chest and belly. she said she got stung by a bug so i go over to investigate. sure enough there was an odd spiny, tiny creature on the tree that she must have laid on while climbing. it was dead but one of the little spiny things went into her skin. she cried and cried and cried. she said things like:

i wish daddy were here.
why did you choose that tree?
why didn't you check to see if there were bugs on it?
i'm never coming to the park again.
i'm never climbing another tree again.

now this girl loves to climb trees. here she is climbing the tree at her grandparents house IN A DRESS. a dedicated tree climber indeed. but she got hurt. she was wounded doing something she loves. so she decided, if something i love can hurt me then i just won't love it anymore.

as i turned over the events of the day, i felt a heavy shift in my soul. i get it little one. my heart still hurts from wounds received throughout the years. yet, if i stopped loving all the things that hurt me i would love very little. i don't want to love little. i want to love much. so much it hurts.

yes, love so much it hurts. then love some more.

:the one where we are made for more:

the kettle whistles. i pick it up and move to the sink to pour steaming water over fresh coffee, my eyes scan our yard as i wait. i sigh. those darn weeds are growing in the play area again. the area we dug out carefully and covered with mulch for a nice appearance. the area where the slides and playhouse and sandbox reside. weeds. we pull and we spray and they go away for a bit but they always come back. this tending, it gets old.

you aren't welcome weeds, i think as i pull and pluck each one.

i keep a constant eye on that place. searching for any sign of weeds that may arise so that i can step in before there is a full fledged overtaking.

so familiar this turning of words and thoughts. so much like that place that harbors both beauty and bitterness. i tend and pull and tug and stand back admiring the cleanliness. moments later there it is, the ugly. so i tend and pull and tug some more.

constant this dance between forgiven and fallen.

then He whispers ever so quietly, you were made for more sweet child.

made for more.

made for beauty.
made for community.
made for motherhood.
made for love and love making.
made for encouraging and being encouraged.
made for showing forgiveness to a fallen world.
made for laughter and delight.
made for joy

made for more.



*just writing with heather today

::the one where she knows god::

Mommy, you know what?
God is everything.
He's an artist.
He's a doctor.
He's a policeman.
He's a writer.
He's a painter.
He's a king.
He's a taxi.
He's a rock.

-Eisley Cooper, 5 years old

Who is God to you today?

::communion [four year old style]::

:photo:

she set-up the tea party during her afternoon rest time, also known as, my work time.
she peeked her head out of her room a number of times announcing the deliciousness that awaited me. her excitement enticed me. i couldn't wait to finish working and enjoy what she had laid out.

i walked in and there was an empty chair with a lamb pillow pet on top  for me to sit on. she informed me that she was sitting on a kitty cat pillow pet. in front of me were tea cups and plates, sprinkles and cupcakes, an orange for her and an apple for me. we talked about the days happenings and then enjoyed our goodies in our best pretend characters.

we realized her friend, an old porcelin doll gifted to her by grandma, had joined us at the table and we had not offered her anything to eat.
where are our manners?
i broke my apple in half and gave our guest a portion and thanked eisley for making enough to share. she broked hers in half and said:

"this food is like god. broken for us."

communion.
eucharist, in its most beautiful form....led by my four year old.

"eucharisteo-thanksgiving-always preceds the miracle"

-ann voskamp

::i wanna go wich you::

i've never seen blue eyes so adoring for one person.
he is his shadow.
he is the first person he asks for when he wakes in the morning.
he is the last person he wants to see before bed at night.
total devotion...that's what my little guy has for his daddy.

when jacob leaves our home there is always pitter patter close behind and words that ring in my ears and cause my heart to explode into a million tiny pieces.

{daddy!!! i wanna go wich you!!}

he wants to go where his daddy goes.
he wants to do what his daddy does.
he wants to be just like his daddy.

oh the lesson to be learned here.

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn't love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that.

ephesians 5:1 {the message}

::beauty in the distance::

:photo:

the fourty minute daily commute gets long and old. i pass the time with the help of these guys:

• homebrewed christianity podcast
• simple mom podcast
• pandora
• NPR radio

there is a particular spot in my drive where i top a tall hill and descend into the foothills of the mountains. hitting this spot is the highlight of my drive.  the blue ridge mountains come into clear view. it's glorious all on it's own, but yesterday as i anticipated this spot, looked out, and breathed in the majesty of the creator, i saw something more. something more beautiful than the sight that woos me every day. out in the distance, past the initial beauty of the blue, i could see snow caps. just a slight dusting to but enough to notice.

beauty.
beauty beyond.
beauty beyond where i am now.
it's there. in the distance. within reach. all i have to do is keep going.

do you feel weary?
do you feel overwhelmed?
lost?
do you feel like each day gets harder?
like you cannot go on this way for one more minute?

keep going friend.
there is beauty in the distance.

::grace enough::

the sun goes to bed earlier now.
darkness leads to an unavoidable slowness.
a yearning to be still and know.

the early morning sun calls us outside to enjoy the last few warm days of fall.
i sit and soak in the rays warming from the inside out.
i watch them, hoodies in place, explore the changes of nature.
crunching leaves.
smells of woodburning fill the air.
exploration takes on a new form as they discover the small patch of woods behind our house.

she makes her way through the trees and brush like she's been there 100 times. the little one gets stuck and calls for her. she runs to show him the way. she becomes his rescuer.

rescuer.
a term we have been using a lot.
we are teaching them about another rescuer.
one who rescued zacchaeus from a life of theft and emptiness.
one who rescued the adulterous woman from a life of insecurity and searching.
one who rescued people from a life of rule following to a life of love.
one who rescued the world from good enough to grace enough.


*linking up with life made lovely

::thoughts on comparison::

:photo:

recently i was taking a drive and found myself stuck in traffic. a drive that should have taken 45 minutes turned into an hour and a half. as i moved further down the road i realized that there was a car that had hit the guard rail. he was fine- outside of his vehicle talking with the police officer. he was also completely off the road.

the only reason traffic was so delayed was because everyone was watching what was happening on the side of the road.

as i drove by, and took my turn rubber-necking, i realized that this is exactly what we do in every day life.

we often get caught up in what she is doing over there.

how is she parenting her children?
is she attachment or parent-led?
does she spank or gently guide?
does she stay at home or work outside the home?
does she keep her house clean and laundry caught up?
does she homeschool?
does she exercise? is she skinnier than me?
does she cook every night?
is her home decorated and maintained?
are her children wild or obedient?
do her clothes have puke and snot on them too?

we spend so much time evaluating what everyone else is doing that it slows us down in our journey to the destination we have been called to.

it happens to everyone.
we compare and then because of those comparisons we self-loathe.
we spend time criticizing ourselves and get caught up in the- but i can never be like her- mindset when we should be pushing forward.
god did not call us to mimic those around us.
god called us to live like him and that may look a little different from one person to the next....and that's okay. press on dear friend. press on.

I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus...  phillipians 3:14