Becky's Blog

The Gift of Dirt

2012-01-24T21:48:00.000-05:00

Sometime this past fall, some dear friends of mine decided that my driveway needed a face lift. I think they were just afraid they would lose their vehicles in the holes in the driveway, but of course they exercised great kindness and caution and didn't actually say such a thing. Much like my other friend who got stuck in my driveway the previous winter, ending with my then 9 year old behind the wheel and the two of us ladies pushing the car out. But I digress... So, before I could say "no, you really don't have to do this" it started happening. Excitement was building. The kids were thrilled. The trucks started rolling in. With dirt. Lots of dirt. They dumped it and spread it and it looked very, very dirt-ish. And brown. Very, very brown. Brown was not the color I was hoping for. And I was a little sad inside as I realized that my limestone drive was no more. It was now dirt. Brown dirt, in case you haven't caught on to that yet. And if you don't believe me, here you go...

So there I was, staring at the very brown driveway. Choosing to be thankful, because after all, it was a gift.  So I really shouldn't have been disappointed by it either. Even if it was dirt. That was brown.  So I had to really check my attitude at that point in time, and came to the conclusion that whether dirt or limestone...I would be thankful. And I started praying it wouldn't rain too hard because that would have made a serious mess.

Thankfully, God had mercy on me and one of my face-lift giving friends drove by, saw the status of the now brown drive and immediately called apologizing that apparently the wrong thing had been delivered.

(And all God's people said "PHEW!"...or at least this God's person did...)

Long story short, the wrong stuff was redistributed to create not only a better drive, but an additional turnaround space. The right stuff, and lots of it, was delivered to cover the entire thing, and people driving small cars no longer have to live in fear of losing their vehicles and their supply of oxygen while slowly sinking, safely belted in of course, into a ginormously muddy hole and trying to send off one last Facebook status update and/or tweet containing a witty hash tag before meeting their Maker.  (My apologies for the run on sentence...apparently I've had a bit too much caffeine today. Or not enough. The jury is still out on that one.)

My friends had no idea that God was using them to not only bless me with a tangible gift of provision, but with two (count 'em TWO) pretty stellar reminders...for me, for my kids, and now for all of you.

Numero Uno:
"Becky...did you really think we would order DIRT for your limestone driveway?!?!"

"Um, well, uh, I don't know..."

"Seriously? You really think we would be that ridiculous?"

Hanging head in shame...

"Don't bargain with God. Be direct. Ask for what you need. This isn't a cat-and-mouse, hide-and-seek game we're in. If your child asks for bread, do you trick him with sawdust? If he asks for fish, do you scare him with a live snake on his plate? As bad as you are, you wouldn't think of such a thing. You're at least decent to your own children. So don't you think the God who conceived you in love will be even better?" Matthew 7:7-11 MSG

We do this, don't we?  We work up the nerve to ask God for something, or to simply realize that He does in fact give His children gifts, and then expect Him to give us dirt instead of limestone. I'm not the only one, am I? Here's the thing...He wants the best for us. Not the dirt. Not even the limestone. He wants the next step up, which I'm not really sure what it would be using the driveway analogy (epic failure), but you get my drift. Yes, our desires need to line up with His, which may mean starting out by asking one thing and allowing Him to morph it into a desire that's more in line with what He thinks. But I'm telling you...when you do this, brace yourself for some seriously good gift giving. God loves us. More than we can fathom. And He has good stuff in store for us. More than we can imagine. So stop expecting dirt...understand His heart and intent and generosity and look for something amazing, thanking Him before it ever takes place.

Numero Dos:
When my youngest saw the "dirty driveway," she got sad. "Mom, was that supposed to happen?" I explained to her no and that it was going to be fixed and that she wouldn't stain her white shorts if she fell down on the driveway the next time she was riding her bike on the dirty driveway.  No, nothing is simple with her...and I'm not sure where she gets it so don't bother asking.

Sure enough, the drive was fixed and un-dirtified before her very eyes and with the additional turnaround it ended up being even better than we had anticipated.

"MOM! How awesome that the mistake was able to be used to make something even better!!"

Preach it, sister...I mean daughter. This is the story of my life, I tell you.

"...he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory." Isaiah 61:3 NLT

This concept rocks, does it not? Ashes, mourning, despair...mistakes, hurt, destruction. These things are not deleted, but they are used and eventually replaced with beauty, blessings and praise. The disappointment of dirt in our driveway turned into a blessing of bigger and better. And God pulls this off so well, and so often, in the lives of those who are willing to let Him.

These two lessons/reminders blow me away. They applied to my life back then, and they apply in an even greater way right now. You would think that by now it wouldn't shock me so to see God do "His thing." But it simply never ceases to amaze me. Never ever. I'm so humbled and grateful and excited at the ways that He takes care of His kiddos. And though life will never be neat, tidy and perfect...I'm ecstatic when I look around my world and see the ways that He is doing some pretty incredible things. Growing pains still hurt like heck...but oh my, is it ever worth it.

I used to secretly mock people that tried to take every single "dirt" situation and try to turn it into a lesson of some sort. Well, mock may be a strong word...but I didn't always listen real intently. It sounded so cliche. So churchy. But I've walked it out...and I'm still walking it out. I'm listening and learning and living and loving it. It's played out so powerfully in my life, and is continuing to do so...and I can't not share it. It's something that I realize God has entrusted me with, and so I shall make the most of it.

Dare to ask God the impossible. Ask Him for the desires of your heart. Expect the best. Even above and beyond your definition of the best. And even if it happens to come in the aftermath of some dirt being dumped all over you...know that God can take that and make the finished product a thing of beauty.

There is Snow...So Here We Go

2012-01-16T10:35:00.002-05:00

It looks like Christmas outside. And I'm not gonna lie...I like it. I love the snow. It's gorgeous. The clean, fresh, pure blanket that gradually and gently covers the otherwise not so pretty looking landscape of the winter season...it's nice. The irony that such delicate and beautiful drifts have been formed by the harsh winds that take advantage of the vulnerable open spaces...it's poetic to a snow lover like myself. It's another reminder that some of the most beautiful things are formed out of some of the most furious elements. As my devotional read this morning: "The beauties of nature come after the storm. The rugged beauty of the mountain is born in the storm, and the heroes of life are the storm-swept and battle-scarred." Isn't that good? Isn't that God? If you stick with Him through all the storm and battles, well, I promise you that at the right time you will start to see the beauty...the heroism...the stunning drifts that glisten as the ever-so-welcome sunshine hits them just right.

Believe it or not, the above paragraph was not really the intent of me tapping away on my keyboard this morning. I just figured since I had a leisurely day today, and it looked Christmas-y out, that perhaps I should interrupt the most recent lull in my writing and dive into the updating about our Christmas.

It's the most simple update ever. One word. And it's not a recap or conclusion or finale. It's a continuation. A springboard. A beautiful pattern. An overly simplistic summary.

Emmanuel.

God with us.

And it's not the first time you've read those words here. I realize that. But it's all I've got.

Christmas festivities with the family were fantastic. I love my family. I love the way we can laugh together and cry together. We can talk about ridiculously insignificant things and we can sink our teeth into things that require much coffee and chocolate to discuss properly. We can mock each other for doing things such as dumping the entire contents of a toiletry bag into a toilet...unflushed...not that I would do that (sigh). We can encourage each other, despite all of our flaws, and know that we are in the presence of people that love us. It's a good thing. Very, very good.

Grandma spent some time in the hospital, but is doing well now. I dominated Skee Ball at Chuck E. Cheese thanks to my aunt and uncle and their insistence that we go hang out there. We ate a lot. Stayed up too late a lot. Had too many movie nights to count. Played games. Spent lots of time being blown away by God's goodness to us. And wore our pajamas...a LOT.

Christmas morning was an incredible time together. The kids' pre-present prayers were breath-taking. Their perspective was convicting. And I won't even tell you how many times I cried. Nor will I post the pictures that my daughter captured of me crying. It's just better for all of us that way (who knew I looked like that when I cry?!). I'm a blessed woman...thankful for all the wonderful moments and experiences and lessons that my kids are to thank for. No...the entire two weeks of 24/7 in each other's faces wasn't sheer delight. We obviously have our moments around here. But when I see a sister hug a brother, crying, because he chose to thank God for providing his medicine rather than focusing on getting to open Christmas gifts...well, that seems to trump all the less than perfect moments. Know what I mean?

God was with us. Every waking moment. Every moment we were slumbering. He knew the behind the scenes perspective of everything that was allowed to cross our paths. Every event. Every word. Every emotion. He knew the purpose behind all of it. And He knows the purpose behind all of the present day things, too.

He sees the places we have left open for Him to create. There is vulnerability and risk in those open fields...yet without it, there would never be opportunity for Him to whip the wind just right as the snowflakes make their way to earth, leaving a sparkly and uniquely designed thing of beauty. To do that in our lives, it is clear that He really is with us. For us. In us. And as much as the word Emmanuel makes of think of Christmas, I think it's a rather appropriate word to use all year long.

And there you have it.

No Apologies

2012-01-01T20:00:00.000-05:00

It's been a relatively calm day today. Much calmer than I expected. The kids and I enjoyed our time at church together, did a LOT of relaxing, took down one of the trees. And the kids are asleep early, so I really have no excuse to put together such a lazy post. I've got time, peace of mind and plenty to talk about. Don't I always? :) But...I'm not going there. Instead, here's a Song for Sunday that I know I've posted about more than once. And I'm doing it again. I'm offering no apologies to those of you who keep track of my repetitive nature. Nope. Not one. And here's why:

1. Because as we sang this in church this morning, I was reminded how apropos these words are in my life. For the New Year. And for just about every situation somewhere in between those two spectrums.

2. Because as I looked down at my four precious children who just a handful of hours previously had been cuddling with me on our friends couch watching the ball drop, I saw their mouths moving. They should have been zombies...not active participants in worship. Honestly, I'm astonished they woke up to even go to church this morning after the late night, but they did. And they did it all on their own. Sure, we got there a tad late, which resulted in a front row seat, but that's OK. I don't typically put my children on display intentionally. But if someone happened to notice them singing those words, I'm OK with it. I know I'm sure glad I noticed them.

3. Because I'm pretty sure that since most of you are still in New Year's mode having just finished the first day of 2012, you won't realize how repetitive I am. Or you'll realize it and forgive me since it's a holiday. Or maybe you need a song to bop around in your brain other than Auld Lang Syne. Or perhaps you could already use a reminder of God's faithfulness. Any way you slice it...the song is at your disposal to listen to, yet again.

4. Because I got the coolest phone call from a friend with a "God is soooo faithful" story. And it rocks.

God truly is faithful. Through every battle, on every mountain, in every battle. He's there. No matter what or who or how your enemy appears, He is victorious in us and around us. Often working in miraculous ways that we don't even realize until that perfect moment in time when He shouts "move that bus!..." or the supernatural equivalent. Loosely speaking, of course. And I'm shutting up now before I say something truly embarrassing...

Here you have it, Never Once by Matt Redman.

God is faithful.

Thus Far

2011-12-31T17:14:00.002-05:00

"Thus far the LORD has helped us.”

I Samuel 7:12

Fitting verse for a devotional intended to be read on December 31. Right?

Thus far...

In two words, the past is remembered. God's faithfulness to help is declared. A continued journey is implied. These words actually point forward as they reference what is behind.

We're all there, right? It's New Year's Eve, so we kinda have to think about 2011 and what was great and what wasn't. We kinda have to come up with some resolutions that we promise we'll keep this time. We kinda have to get out the party hats and the big ole smiles and just know that 2012 is going to be better than 2011. It's what we do.

So if you're reading this, I'm assuming you either googled for something and are realizing right about now that you should press the back arrow and try the next link down on the list OR you want to know what I have to say on this the last day of 2011. I won't even start to guess at your reasons for why you want to know what I have to say...but I'm sure there are plenty of different ones.

Not to be anti-climatic, but I've already said what I need to for this year. In the many blog posts that I've poured out over the past 12 months...and in the two words that title this post.

Thus far...

2011 has been a year of "thus far" for me.

I remember the past. I remember the times that God sent encouragement to me at my darkest hour from some rather unlikely sources. I remember the times that God displayed His healing power. I remember the times that God has revealed His truth into my life and the lives of others. I remember the times that He provided for our needs and blessed us with gifts beyond necessities. I also remember the many times that I hesitantly admitted that it is in our crises that He has the greatest opportunity to be glorified. In our darkest hours that His light shines the brightest. In our most profound weakness that His strength is most evident.

I declare that God is faithful. To provide. To teach. To comfort. To guide, convict, forgive, love, restore and bless. To protect, defend and honor. He is faithful to take our ashes and turn them into a thing of beauty. He is patient and gentle when He needs to be. He is righteous and holy and bold when that is more appropriate...always faithful to choose the best option for each situation. He is faithful to tend to His children, faithful to discipline them, faithful to make all things right and just in His time, in His way.

And I understand fully that this is only the beginning. The journey will continue. There will be joys and hurts. There will be times when my faith is stretched. There will be times when my faith is as strong as it has ever been. Throughout this implied journey continuation, He will be good on His Word.

I'll be honest...sometimes I worry about the future. I worry about things outside of my control. Things that "shouldn't" happen but do. Sometimes when I think about 2012, and I'm sure I'm the only one, I'm tempted to focus on the yucky. The hurt. The unknown and the potential for bad stuff to happen to good people. Oddly enough, they don't make party hats with any of those sentiments.

But God says don't worry. About anything. A good friend of mine reminded me of this as I sobbed on the phone the other day. I was hurting. I was angry. And they were natural reactions to what had taken place. Reactions that needed to be entertained for awhile in order to fully process everything. BUT, worrying is never something that should be entertained.

So there it is. My New Year's Eve post. I'm not going to give you a year in review, because that would take hours to read, let alone write...you'll just have to wait until the book is published. I'm not going to let you in on any resolutions, because I don't really do those. I have goals, sure. And there are certain areas of my life that I'm working on, yes. But things that magically become priorities when the clock strikes 12...those you will not find. I'm not going to make predictions for the future, because I haven't a clue. God has so uniquely designed my life and various chains of events at this point in time that I simply cannot even imagine what He is going to do next. This past week alone has shown this to be true in rather overwhelming ways.

Whether I'm overly simplistic today, overly tired or overly ready to pack my kids up and go party hard (um, kidding...when you have four kids "party hard" means staying up until 10 and letting them drink caffeine since it's someone else's house that will bear the brunt of their hyperactivity), that's all I've got. It's been quite a year. A year that has shaped me into the person that I am today...the imperfect yet cherished princess that God has gone out of His way to care for. God has helped me through the entire thing...right up to the last hours of drama that 2011 has tried to squeeze in. And it will continue...all of it. Especially God's faithfulness to help me. And to help you.

Thus far...

See you next year!

This is what the LORD says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:16, 18-19

And That's a Wrap...

2011-12-24T22:34:00.000-05:00

So, I was tempted to name this post "I'm in Love, I'm in Love and I Don't Care Who Knows It"" for several reasons. A) I love ELF. It's one of our favorite Christmas movies, and that just so happens to be one of my favorite lines.
B) Because it's true.

But I didn't name this post that for several reasons. A) I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.
B) It may be just a tad too strong a phrase to use in regards to pajama pants. But I'm telling you, peeps, I am currently sporting the BEST ever pajama pants in the history of pajama pants. Kudos to Old Navy for fabricating something so fleecy and cuddly and cutesy...with a "tall" option for those of us who need it...and in snow leopard print to top it all off. Genius. Doesn't get much better, folks. Not at all. I really do think I'm in love.

But alas, this post is not in existence for my pajama pants alone. For there was much more to this day than my snow leopard print sleepwear. Much, much more.

For starters, I was able to wrap up some various thoughts and feelings of mine over the course of a 2 hour phone call with one of my mentors from Chicago. It was one of those calls that enables a broader perspective to take place of the narrow one. A call that encouraged and blessed and just flat out helped me in so many ways. It was a slightly early Christmas gift: gifts of time, affirmation, confirmation and a bit of laughter thrown in for good measure. I am very blessed.

I wrapped up my baking for the week. Despite the millions of cookies, cupcakes and batches of caramel corn marked off the list, there were more recipes calling my name. The aroma of the popularly classic Chex Mix (with my own seasonings...just can't deal with that little spice packet deal-io) filled the kitchen this morning. And this evening we were all drooling over a new aroma...Candy Cane Chocolate Cheesecake Bars with a coffee crust. Talk about heaven. Did I mention my new favorite pajama pants have a stretchy waist? Pass the pan, please...

I am close to wrapping up the listening of necessary Christmas albums. Today, we managed to get through some of our favorites. Michael W. Smith, Amy Grant, Glee, Mannheim Steamroller, Harry Connick Jr, Casting Crowns, Third Day...yet it seems like I'm missing some.  We'll be sure to include them as we travel to and fro.

I wrapped up the wrapping, of course. Though it does seem to me that it's a bit ridiculous to wrap gifts you know the kids will be unwrapping in a matter of a few hours. But tradition is tradition, and so each stocking gift was wrapped regardless of the turn-around time for opening them.

And there are other things which indicated some sort of closure today...Christmas Eve traditions of new jammies for the kids and watching the Garfield Christmas special I watched when I was a kid. The phrase "one more sleep 'til Christmas" permeating the bedtime routine. "Silent Night" being sung to some very sleepy children with very droopy eyelids. The day is almost over. Tomorrow will be here soon.

Tomorrow. Christmas. Jesus' Birthday. Much excitement. Deeply rooted meaning. The celebration of an event that changed the past, present and future in one fell swoop. We do our best to commemorate that event. Giving gifts. Spending time with loved ones. Special services and programs. Extra acts of kindness and service. A bit more concentration on what the life of Jesus means for all of us. All good things.  Yet they are things that dare not be included in the "wrapping it up" of the season. We cannot afford to forget these things on December 26th with the intent on just picking them back up when it's convenient sometime around Thanksgiving of the following year.

God's gift to us is ongoing. Yes, He gave us His Son. But just look at Jesus' name...look at all the things He gave us in that one gift...

Prince of Peace.
Wonderful Counselor.
Emmanuel, God With Us.
Light of the World
Bread of Life
Physician
King of Kinds
Messiah
Alpha and Omega
Bridegroom
Savior
Lord
Son of God and Son of Man
Good Shepherd
Redeemer
Man of Sorrows

and one of my personal favorites...

I AM. As if God was saying, "Look...I've already said it all. I've done it all. I've tried my best to explain who this Son of mine, this Jesus, is. So let me just wrap it up...let's just go with I AM."

I love it.

There is not one thing that we need that God is not. He is everything. Everyday. My response to that reality should also be everyday. Not just at Christmas and Easter. Not just when things are going swell. Not just when things seem they can't get any worse. God is my everything, everyday. And so I will do my best to serve Him with all I have to offer, everyday.

And that's what I remember as I wrap up today...as I wrap up my interaction with the ole blog for a bit so that I can visit family and play host to out of town guests and relax with my kiddos...as I wrap up the anticipation part of Christmas and move on to the day itself. I remember that God doesn't just give me everything I need, He actually is everything I need. Every single day. I remember that His Son, Jesus, came to this earth so that I could experience a personal relationship with Him on a daily basis, not just an at arms length religion when I find it convenient. I remember that no matter what the circumstances are in my life, Jesus is Emmanuel...God with us. God in us. God for us. I pray that you, too, will remember those things as you go about your business and your busyness.  He's too important to be overlooked.

And that's a wrap...

Merry Christmas. I hope you have the most meaningful one yet...and try not to let your envy of my snow leopard pajama pants ruin it for you. :)

When You're Just Not Sure if You Should Rest

2011-12-23T11:35:00.001-05:00

It's a busy time of year.  My body grows weary. The Tylenol, Vitamin C and Echinacea have taken a permanent and prominent place on the kitchen counter.  The tears flow with fewer warning signs and greater frequency. Last night, my kids literally had to awaken me from my slumber on the couch to request that I tuck them in. Twice. This season is sprinkled with more emotions than I can keep track of without having a notebook close by. I am weary.

There's that "zone" I tend to get in. The to-do list zone...Santa cupcakes, caramel corn, cookies upon cookies upon cookies. Gift wrapping. Extra particular budget balancing. Plus all the normal laundry and homework and cooking and cleaning. This zone is task oriented. Machine like. It can work to my advantage - when it doesn't take on an unhealthy life of it's own.

Then there's that other zone. The zombie zone. The one that won't allow me to slow down. The one that won't allow me to rest. There's nothing pressing to be accomplished, yet my mind and emotions and spirit continue to whirl with a myriad of things. This zone is not task oriented. There are clearly zero machine-like elements. It is created out of habit and sustained by worry, pride, fear, insecurity and my perceived lack of "permission." Because somehow sitting still isn't OK? Resting my body and mind and emotions and spirit is somehow not being a good steward of my time? It is this zone that is often accompanied by a mentality of "I cannot afford to miss an opportunity to grow or learn or accomplish." But this zone never works to my advantage.  In fact, it does quite the opposite.

Tis the season, you say? Well, yes. I suppose. But this is not something unique to the month of December. It is not applicable solely to the hustle and bustle. It's life. If you're on any kind of a journey with purpose, it's just reality. Plain and simple. I think there is a reason my devotions had the following entry slated for December 23, yet I am acutely aware that I need this reminder more often than not.

The journey is too much for you. I Kings 19:7

What did God do with Elijah, His tired servant? He allowed him to sleep and then gave him something good to eat. Elijah had done tremendous work and in his excitement had run "ahead of Ahab all the way to Jezreel" (I Kings 18:46). But the run had been too much for him and had sapped his physical strength, ultimately causing him to become depressed. Just as others in this condition need sleep and want their ailments treated, Elijah's physical requirement needed to be met. There are many wonderful people who end up where Elijah did - "under a juniper tree" (I Kings 19:4)! When this happens, the words of the Master are very soothing: "Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you." In other other words, "I am going to refresh you." Therefore may we never confuse physical weariness with spiritual weakness. (Taken from Streams in the Desert)

I do this. I equate physical weariness with spiritual weakness. I'm afraid if I let on to people that I'm tired that somehow they will think I'm not as close to God as I ought to be. They may think that I'm hiding something when I say that I'm doing OK or putting on a show when I appear to be thriving. And I may even question myself...especially when the strength sapping starts to morph into discouragement.  But this does not mean that I'm totally messed up. It means that I'm human. It means that I am being reminded that my physical, emotional and spiritual layers are inseparable. It means that I need to be taken care of. And if God can recognize these truths in Elijah and tend to his needs without judgement, pretty sure He can do the same for me.

Perhaps the Christmas season is leading you to the juniper tree of exhaustion. We can all relate to that, yes? Perhaps your entire year (or longer) has contributed to the journey. Or maybe you just got done with your own version of running to Jezreel.  There is no shame in admitting that you need rest. In fact, I think a simply put "I am tired" confession can often be the most spiritually significant thing you can do.

There's a difference between asking yourself if you can rest and asking yourself if you should rest. Your to-do list, schedule and responsibilities will help to answer the first question. This little story about Elijah may help answer the second question.

To you parents that are helping your children walk through some rough stuff...keep up the good work. But don't forget to teach them, by example, how to rest.

To those of you planted firmly in the front-lines of ministry...God will sustain you. But take time to rest.

To those of you walking through significant medical traumas in your own life or the lives of those you love...God sees your tears. And He will give you rest.

To those of you coming out of a year in which you daily wondered if you could hold your head above water...God is faithful. And He wants you to rest.

God will refresh you.

God will refresh me.

So if you're just not sure if you should rest...consider the fact that your uncertainty may be all the reason you need to lean against that tree and allow God to give you something good to eat.

I’m too tired to trust and too tired to pray,
Said one, as the over-taxed strength gave way.
The one conscious thought by my mind possessed,
Is, oh, could I just drop it all and rest.

Will God forgive me, do you suppose,
If I go right to sleep as a baby goes,
Without an asking if I may,
Without every trying to trust and pray?

Will God forgive you? why think, dear heart,
When language to you was an unknown art,
Did a mother deny you needed rest,
Or refuse to pillow your head on her breast?

Did she let you want when you could not ask?
Did she set her child an unequal task?
Or did she cradle you in her arms,
And then guard your slumber against alarms?

Ah, how quick was her mother love to see,
The unconscious yearnings of infancy.
When you’ve grown too tired to trust and pray,
When over-wrought nature has quite given way:

Then just drop it all, and give up to rest,
As you used to do on a mother’s breast,
He knows all about it—the dear Lord knows,
So just go to sleep as a baby goes;

Without even asking if you may,
God knows when His child is too tired to pray.
He judges not solely by uttered prayer,
He knows when the yearnings of love are there.

He knows you do pray, He knows you do trust,
And He knows, too, the limits of poor, weak dust.
Oh, the wonderful sympathy of Christ,
For His chosen ones in that midnight tryst,

When He bade them sleep and take their rest,
While on Him the guilt of the whole world pressed—
You’ve given your life up to Him to keep,
Then don’t be afraid to go right to sleep.
By Ella Conrad Cowherd

Skip the Sugar-Coating

2011-12-21T06:38:00.000-05:00

"Are we going to do that blood thing again?"

OK, wait. Sorry.  Let me set the stage here a little. The one asking me this question is Brooklyn. Brooklyn has one volume level: loud.  We're in the church foyer...walking into the sanctuary. Not a terribly quiet moment, but quiet enough.  And, by the way, she has zero tact. It is what it is. No sugar-coating for her. She skips that step every time.

"Mom! Are we going to do that blood thing again?"

It sounded so stinking gross.

Apparently the look on my face was worth more than my words ever could have been. She knew that I had no idea what she was talking about and offered some more information.

"You know...the blood and cross thing."

"Ah. Communion?"

"Yes, that's it."

"No, not today. And by the way, Brooky, it's actually grape juice."

"I know. But it's about blood. It's the blood and cross thing."

The word "communion" sounds much more delicate. Refined. Sophisticated. Neat and tidy and church-ish.

"The blood thing" sounds repulsive. Like it belongs in a horror flick. Nasty and messy.

But isn't that part of it? For us to be reminded of the brutal, horrific, repulsive death that Jesus died? All because He loved us. And He loved us a LOT. Shouldn't we be OK with being reminded of that? Often, if we're honest, I don't think we are. Because it reminds us of how brutal, horrific and repulsive our sin is. The sin that put Him there. The sin that brought Him to the earth as a Babe to begin with.

Brooklyn doesn't sugar-coat stuff. But I'm pretty sure most of us would like to.

I know that the story of Christmas is a lovely story. It's beautiful and poetic and wonderful. It is peaceful.  Visual images that make us feel warm and safe inside. And it most certainly involves a lot of very wonderful gifts that God has offered us - joy, hope, peace, provision, life eternal. In a world and a time where despair, doubt, pain and confusion abound, we need to focus on those things. But we are totally missing it if that's all we look at.

I'm not suggesting you replace the reading of the Christmas story with a graphic telling of what childbirth is really like or show the crucifixion scene from the Passion of the Christ to your 2 year old. Heavens no. But if we really want to glean all we can from the Christmas story, we must first be authentic and raw and brutally honest about our desperation. How we can we expect anyone to believe us when we say Christmas is about our need to be saved if we aren't real about what it is we need saved from? It may be messy and repulsive and as jarring as a random statement about blood in the church foyer. But it is what it is. It's not about sugar coating ourselves to make everyone believe that we have it all together...and if they come to church than they, too, can take a dip in the falsifying sugar. No. It's about being real. Vulnerable. Authentic. Because it is in our imperfections and screw ups and weaknesses and gut-wrenching need that others will find hope. The hope is not actually found in the mess itself, but in the One who sent a Baby to clean it up that mess.  Yet if we never admit there is a mess to be cleaned, then where is the significance?

God didn't say goodbye to His Son just for us to downplay the significance because it's too embarrassing to admit that we aren't perfect. Jesus did not agree to be born as a lowly Baby and live a very misunderstood and hard life, ending in torture and death, for us to rationalize away the need to be honest about who we really are and the ugliness we are not only capable of, but guilty of.  All of those gifts that He offers us through the miracle of the swaddled Savior can only be grasped if we first let go of the other junk we are wrapped too tightly in ourselves.

As we are reminded of Jesus' birth, let us also be reminded of His life. Of His sacrifice.  Let's skip the sugar-coating, hiding, masking, disguising and denying our need for Him. Because the way I see it, that need was the true beginning of this season. And I'm thankful for the wonderfully loud and poetically blunt 6 year old beauty of mine that issued such a fabulous Christmas reminder.

11 Things to Justify this Post

2011-12-20T06:48:00.001-05:00

1. Regardless of what you know or think or think you know about me: in addition to coffee, chocolate, high heels, broadway musicals, sushi and scarves, I also happen to enjoy watching sports, playing video games, Salt and Vinegar chips and Star Wars.

2. My brother told me about it. And he doesn't usually mention things that aren't worth people's time.

3. I like the real version of this song.

4. If Mark Lowry, who recorded the real version of this song which I mentioned liking in #3, had thought of it first...he so would have beat this guy to the punch.

5. I've been a bit touch and go with my blogging lately. Not because of anything dramatic, just because life is busy.  Busy life = lazy blogging from time to time. Can't get much lazier than this...

6. It's December. And you can't really post something like this in August.

7. It's really, really funny. And there are quite a few spectacular lines that literally make me burst into laughter.

8. I want my son to realize how cool I am. Posting stuff about Star Wars tends to help me out in that area.

9. I like the Christmas lights. Subtle. Festive. Overall a nice touch.

10. It's better than the other Star Wars Christmas video I was contemplating posting.

11. Did I mention it's funny?  Because it is. And who couldn't use a big ole laugh right about now?

Christmas: Towards or Away?

2011-12-19T11:56:00.000-05:00

It went in one ear and out the other. I knew the statement was true. I knew I needed to hear it. I knew it would continue to bounce around in my brain. But at the time, I was so emotionally and physically depleted that I simply could not grasp those words the way I needed to. In fact, the more I think about it, I'm pretty sure that maybe I didn't actually believe them at the time.

"God has equipped you, because you are here."

It had been a rough night. A long one. And when it seemed to be over, it was punctuated not with an exclamation point of excitement. Not a comma of calm. Not even the ever so popular "dot dot dot" indicating a sense of wonder about what was going to happen next. It was punctuated by a question mark. And me, curled up in as close to fetal position as I could get. Crying like it was my job.

"But Becky, God has equipped you, because you are here."

I often forget that my son has been diagnosed with a mood disorder. Seems weird, but he has made such positive strides over the past year and a half, that I honestly forget sometimes. And there were some other things behind his struggles besides the mood disorder. Sure, I could dismantle the situation and spell out all the contributing factors, but there's really no need. Bottom line: God has changed some of those factors...and a miracle has taken a very obvious place in the forefront of it all. My son is doing well. Mostly. But we do have nights from time to time that cause me to remember the meltdowns that used to be every night. And it's brutal. Add in the other "life" stuff that is typical for all mommies, the dynamic of being a single mommy and a few things unique to yours truly and I was pretty much done.

"God has equipped you."

Mary was an ordinary lady. Just minding her own business when God flipped her entire reality upside-down and then some. A baby. Conceived miraculously. Unmarried. "And, oh yeah, remember that Messiah I've been promising you? Um, about that..." I admire Mary. I respect her. I am inspired by her. But I know she was all human. So I know she struggled. The feelings of inadequacy. Physical exhaustion. Emotional depletion. Ignoring rumors. Having to choose between believing the unnatural truths or settling into the more natural doubts...between walking towards Him or away from Him.

Fear. Unknowns. Overwhelming circumstances. A lot of pressure to do the "right" thing from all sides. Walking towards God, knowing the work He had done in her, yet aware that many did not understand. And though I can't recall any scripture verses that would back me up in this, I have a hunch those feelings didn't magically disappear when the wise men showed up with some gifts for her Child. And I also have a hunch that the human voice of reason inspired by the ultimate Voice of Truth spoke into her world just as it has mine.

"God has equipped you, because you are here."

It's calming. To know that the mere fact you find yourself where you are is the overwhelming proof that you are equipped to handle it. Not on your own strength or with your own resources or because of your own abilities. No. He puts you where you are knowing that you must rely on Him to equip you. That's how He works. No matter what we give Him to work with, He can cause it to morph into something that honors Him and puts us where we need to be.

(Just in case you're thinking what I'm thinking...I realize that our sinful choices as well as others' choices can certainly throw a wrench into His works. They can put us in places where He never really wanted us to be, well over our heads. But when we live a life that is surrendered to Him, no matter what the past looks like and no matter what other peoples' choices look like, He will equip us to move forward with blessing and the confidence that He is in control.)

I've heard people say that the phrase "God never gives you more than you can handle" isn't actually true. That God does give us more than we can handle...if we try to handle it on our own. Rather, He gives us what we can handle as long as we are plugged into His source of power. However you choose to look at it...God hasn't left you stranded.

You may have to ride on a donkey to get from point A to point B. You may not be welcomed in a setting any more glorious than a barn. People may misunderstand. And you may find yourself competing with me for the job opening of "crying like a baby...and a ticked off baby, at that." But God will give you a Joseph to make the journey with you...or many of them. God will send shepherds to reassure you that God's voice is active, accurate and confirmed. God will send you gifts, using some of the most unlikely people to deliver them. But most importantly, God Himself is right next to you. Watching you. Helping you. Offering a never ending supply of peace, provision, direction and hope.

But you must choose Him.

I must choose Him.

We MUST choose Him.

I must choose to believe that He has equipped me to survive and thrive exactly where He has led me to settle. Doing exactly what He has instructed me to do. As the song that the Bethel College choir sang many times in my days there and in days since says..."He never failed me yet." Even though I have failed Him plenty, His record is impeccable.

I'm not Mary. I'm Becky. Our circumstances are drastically different. Our journeys unique. And I would never claim to be as strong or beautiful or spirit-filled as she was. Also, in case you weren't aware, she was chosen to give birth to the Messiah and I was not. But our status of human being is the same. As is our Lord. So I can look at her journey and her challenges and know that it's not a stretch to realize just how much assurance her story can give me on a personal level.

In between all the family time and special programs and excitement and "stuff" that accompanies this season, I've been reminded of God's presence. Of His faithfulness. Promises. Healing and hope. That I am where I am. As are you. Honestly, those reminders can be difficult. Sometimes they are birthed out of hurt. Loneliness. Questions. Fear. Or even meltdowns. But in my mind, the ends really do justify the means. What I have learned and experienced are worth it all.

He will equip each of us to handle wherever that place may be. As long as that place involves Him holding the prominent place in our hearts and minds, He is free to work for our best and provide exactly what we need for each step of the way. He will give those people, confirmations and gifts...at the perfect time and in the perfect way.

We can walk away from Christmas 2011 with so much more than credit card bills, expanded waistlines and a few extra gray hairs. And we can also walk away with more than hearts filled by those we love, memories made with those we cherish, joy from watching children on Christmas morning and carols sung...whether around the piano, in our churches or on someone's front porch. We can walk away with poignant and life changing reminders of who God is. Who He REALLY is. What He gives. What He desires. Hopefully, it won't be in the walking away that we realize all of this in a new and fresh way. Hopefully, it will be in the walking towards Christmas that we bask in the fullness of these things.

It's possible that I would have been walking away from Christmas with these thoughts rather than towards if my son hadn't had his meltdown the other night. Or it's possible that God would have implemented a different type of reminder. I don't know. What I do know is that He is who He is. I am where I am. And I'm going to continue to walk towards Him...towards an intentional December 25th...towards His plans for me. It's just better that way.

Luke 1:26-33 (MSG)

In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to the Galilean village of Nazareth to a virgin engaged to be married to a man descended from David. His name was Joseph, and the virgin's name, Mary. Upon entering, Gabriel greeted her:

Good morning!
You're beautiful with God's beauty,
Beautiful inside and out!
God be with you.

She was thoroughly shaken, wondering what was behind a greeting like that. But the angel assured her, "Mary, you have nothing to fear. God has a surprise for you: You will become pregnant and give birth to a son and call his name Jesus.

He will be great,
be called 'Son of the Highest.'
The Lord God will give him
the throne of his father David;
He will rule Jacob's house forever—
no end, ever, to his kingdom."

Chewed up Corn or Warm Brownies?

2011-12-13T14:56:00.000-05:00

I was standing at the counter, dishing up dessert for the kiddos. Warm brownies, which are fairly common around here, with peppermint stick ice cream on top, which is not so common. The kids had been looking forward to it since the moment I had started mixing the brownie batter some 30 minutes previously. They knew it was coming. They were excited.

The counter I happened to be utilizing for the dessert dishing is close in proximity to the trash can. I had actually taken the trash can out of it's cupboard disguised home...so it was sitting on the floor directly next to me. The kids had scraped the remnants of their meal into the trash. Corn. Noodles. The few fatty parts of the roast. Delicious, right?

I looked up to ask my 7 year old if she would prefer her ice cream directly on top of her brownie or slightly off to the side. My eyes raised just in time to catch her eating corn. Out of the trash can. Corn that had at the very least flirted a little with the chewed up and spit out pieces of fatty beef.

"Cam...seriously? I'm dishing up dessert and you're eating out of the trash can?"

She just looked at me, spit out the corn, waited patiently for the ice cream to be perfectly perched upon the brownie and took her place at the table to enjoy her very special treat. Not another thought.

Me? Well...it was gross. For sure. And I shook my head plenty of times as I put the trash can away. But then, I was reminded me of the times that I've chosen the trash can corn over the dessert of choice in my life. When I've looked up at God with my big blue eyes and a "what?" look on my face, caught taking something that clearly pales in comparison to what He has in store for me. And if I were to be completely honest, I'm pretty sure that I've actually expected God to settle for the chewed up and spit out parts of my life rather than the very best...the part of me He deserves...the warm brownie with peppermint ice cream.

Am I stretching it a little? Or maybe it's too obvious of a correlation to make this post anything special. Not sure. But either way, I was reminded.

I was reminded that God wants nothing but the best for me.

I was reminded that God deserves nothing but the best from me.

And I was reminded that I should always put the trash can away immediately after the kids clear their plates. Because even though it reminded me of some good things, it was still really gross.

P.S. Not surprisingly, this whole thing also started a conversation about how some kids have no other option but to eat out of the trash can...but I'll leave that for another post. :)

All I Want for Christmas

2011-12-11T20:18:00.006-05:00

Saturday's post was a rather heartfelt one pertaining to Christmas, and Christmas gifts and some very powerful things God continues to show me and then use to grow me.

This post, however, is not. So consider yourself warned. And if this is the first time you've visited my blog, don't let it scare you away.

Additionally, do not think that I'm trying to subliminally suggest to all of you to go out and buy me these gifts, no matter what the post title indicates. But I simply could not let this one go. (A special "woohoo" to LT for embracing my passion for dill pickles and dill pickle flavored potato chips and passing these links along to me...)

I must say, I'm afraid these items could very well put my commitment to artificial dill flavoring to the test. I'm just not sure I could actually indulge in these items, regardless of my passion for all things dill. Yet secretly, I kinda want to put them on my Christmas list...that doesn't exist...that I don't actually give to anyone. But if such a list did exist...and I gave it to somebody, these would be on it...

This first one actually sounds good to me...

But, I happen to like sunflower seeds. So that's not all that unbelievable. This, I'm just not sure about...

As for this one...

...why would you want to freshen your breath with something that smells just as horrific as the offensive odor you're trying to cover up? If you really want to eliminate your halitosis, try this...

Oh wait. Nevermind. Same problem.

Shiver.

Let's just be grateful that the chap stick mentioned in Saturday's post wasn't this kind and call it a day...

I've conveniently discovered this company has an entire bacon line, expanded to include bacon flavored floss and bacon scented hand soap. Yummy.

You can also find nacho cheese mints and a gumball combo pack with hot dog, beer and peanut flavors represented for those of you that are truly spectacular in your desire to gross others out.

But what really makes me laugh are the comments left on the website about how these things actually taste good. Seriously?! One person mentioned that the mints would be a great addition to a diet plan including hamburger seltzer and french fry flavored rice cakes. While I may not always be as humorous as I think I am, that dude is funny. And I would TOTALLY buy french fry flavored rice cakes, by the way.

I think I'm going to frighten my children and let them know that the traditional items of chap stick, toothpaste, mints and gum which they usually find in their stocking will be replaced with these items. As one reviewer said, it just could be "worth it for the creepy factor alone..."

Now if there was a dill pickle flavored Jelly Belly, well, that would be a whole different story...but alas, I'll just have to stick with my popcorn flavored ones until they stop wasting their time on the flavors such as skunk spray, black pepper and rotten egg.

Gross.

The End.

I Know of...

2011-12-10T10:08:00.000-05:00

I know of a mom. One that is just barely making it. One whose faith is being stretched in the provision of needs, and without much extra. Which kinda stinks at Christmas. So she decided to do without a few of the "normal" things that usually go into the stockings. Like chapstick. Silly, little, insignificant chapstick.  But it wasn't without a fight.  And God dealt with her on this issue...this issue of not buying chapstick and the many things that were behind it. She obeyed. And within days, discovered that somebody in the most coincidental and random fashion that God could possibly orchestrate, bought all of her kids chapstick.

I know of two friends. Two friends that could very well be a cover story entitled "Unlikely Friends." One friend asked the other friend about having a girls night out. There were many options of days to choose from. Go figure that the day that ended up working for both of these busy friends was the perfect day...not just for one reason, but several reasons. Some reasons they were able to easily pinpoint...but they seemed to have a sense that some of the reasons are TBD. Nonetheless, there is only One who could have possibly known which day was the necessary day.

I know of a little girl. A little girl who was just recently asked what her number one Christmas gift wish would be. The little girl thought about it, and then in a very matter-of-fact manner with over the top specificity declared what she wanted.  Her answer, down to the very color, was the exact match for something that her parents had acquired months ago, putting it away for Christmas. They didn't know what she would ask for. She didn't know what they already had planned. But God had lined it all up beautifully.

I know of a little boy. A little boy with some sensory issues, making certain fabrics intolerable for him to wear. His mom, at the request of some kind-hearted anonymous gift givers, put together a list of things he could use for Christmas. She forget to mention the specific fabric that was required on the clothing she suggested, however. I'm guessing by now you can probably figure out what happened. The mom opened the box to look at the clothing before wrapping it for her son. She wept.  The fabric was perfect. And bonus...the outfit is designed in his favorite color combo.

And I know of a plethora of other people and situations. But I think you get the point.

Some of these stories are mine and some are not. But it really doesn't matter which is which, now, does it?

No. Because it's not about the mom or the friends or the little girl or the little boy or any of the characters that make up the cast of the "others..."

It's about Jesus.

"Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are?" Matthew 6:26.

When I read that, I can't help but contemplate my own take on it...look at the mom and the friends and the little girl and the little boy ...they keep on keeping on, through the uncertainty and the silence and the what ifs, yet your heavenly Father gives them chapstick and calendar coordination and their number one Christmas gift list and the right kind of pants...WE ARE VALUABLE TO HIM.

That's Jesus, alright. Whether the name Jesus causes you to think of a babe in a manger or a Savior hanging on a cross...it's one and the same.

Jesus. Who knows all and is all to all.

In each of these situations, there was a period of silence. God did not tell the mom He was going to provide chapstick.  God did not tell the friends why that date was the right one. God did not tell the parents of the little girl that the gift they were holding on to for her would be her number one wish. And God did not tell any of the people involved in the story of the little boy much of anything. He just silently guided.

In a devotion preceding a rehearsal some days ago, this idea of silence was talked about. Specifically the 400 years of silence between the Old and New Testaments. How hard was that for those people? The people that had been hearing from the prophets about the coming Messiah, only to have nothing for their ears to feast upon for 400 years. And to think that I get in a tizzy about just a day or week or month in which God has said nothing more than "you're on the right path...keep it up." No visible signs and wonders. Yet, just like the mom and the friends and the little girl and the little boy, there is purpose behind the silence. It is freeing God up to do something bigger and better. To turn His attention toward other elements of the plot. Making sure that none of the players know exactly what is going on until it is the perfect time. To know too soon would take away some of His glory. To know too late, well, that's just not how God operates. That kind of silence is not a punishment. And it may or may not be a test. I think that it is  an indicator that God trusts the ones living in that silence. Knowing that silence is not too much for them to handle. Knowing that those ones will make the most of the silence. Knowing that the end result, in which silence is required, will be more grand and glorious than we could ever fathom.

Bottom line: it's just better to let God do it His way. His timing. His balance of silence/signs & wonders.

I know of this struggle.

I know of this silence.

And I know of His faithfulness.

P.S. It's always worth it.

P.P.S. I also know of the reality that I will need this reminder just as much as the next guy on yet to be determined days in my future...so to those of you reading this that have the knack for calling me out when I need it, continue to do so. I'm OK with it.

Already?

2011-12-08T13:53:00.000-05:00

A friend mentioned to me the other day that they missed my blog...my response was a mutter-ish one about how I guess I hadn't written for awhile. And something else, but I'll keep that comment to myself.

But now I'm all kinds of messed up, because it's already December 8th. I was going to write the somewhat expected "my how times flies...it's already December" post a week ago, but now it would have to be the "my how time flies...it's already a week into December" post, and I just don't know about that.

Instead, I will throw a random smattering of thoughts/updates together that pretty much confirm to you all that I temporarily lose it every once in awhile, especially when I realize it's already nearing the end of the year.

For starters, I am soooo looking forward to my 3rd and 4th graders school Christmas program tonight. I can't believe it's already time to find all those red and green accessories in order to make sure they look Christmasy, yet still meet their approval in not making it look too Christmasy. I simply cannot wait until they're teenagers. Please note the sarcasm. Seriously though, I am very proud of the 2 of my kids that will be a part of a fantastical show tonight. And I'm still feeling pretty blessed that this public school system incorporates songs like "Breath of Heaven" into their repertoire...

Speaking of which, I know people have differing opinions on the matter, but I love the Christmas tree that fills up the main intersection downtown.  It makes me smile. And, no, I do not mind the "no left turn" policy while it is up, because I just think it's awesome. The official lighting of the tree was earlier this week, complete with hot chocolate, cookies, music (always love hearing my daughter's group sing...which they did that night...which is why I started this paragraph with "speaking of which") and an accidental giving-in to my son when he asked for a ride on my shoulders. I swear the kid is a monkey. Before I could even say a word about, his bum found a place to perch upon my shoulders and it was just easier to carry him to the van that way. Luckily, he has zero meat on his frame or I would've really been hurting the next morning. All in all, it was worth it. When I tucked him in he looked at me and said "I love you, Mom. You're the best ever. Thanks for letting me ride on your shoulders. Can we do that again tomorrow?" He's so precious...

A slightly different "already" came in the form of both of my grandparents coming home from the hospital. It's been a week that has gone from report to report of my grandpa's mild stroke and pneumonia to my grandma's ER visit (to a different hospital of course) to both of them returning back home. I adore my grandparents, and it's dawning on me that they won't be around forever. That thought is brutal to say the least and it caused all kinds of emotions to surface, some having to do with them, some having to do with me, some even having to do with how my situation has changed over the past year. And I'm telling you, I'm not necessarily proud of all the various emotions I allowed to creep into my brain...BUT, I'm also glad that I was able to update my awesome prayer warriors that they were "already" home and that I've been able to process and file away my own stuff I was dealing with.  God even paved the way for me to even go up and spend some time with them a few days ago...forcing them to let me put up their Christmas tree and decor. It was a day of blessing, for sure. And I'm glad I'll be able to spend some more time with them in a matter of 10 days or so.

Dad continues to recover from his knee replacement surgery. His journey has been full of "already"s. Already off pain meds...already up and about...already making the trek to see his grand kids perform tonight. I'm truly grateful for the way God has been a part of his healing and my mom's amazing care taking.

I'm already rambling, so I better close up shop. But before I do, I just want to say that I'm already finding so much joy in this month of December. It's in the little things, the big things...predictable places and unpredictable. I'm astonished at how God is already filling and warming my soul up in a way that far surpasses what even homemade soup can do to a girl. It would be weird to say that I'm surprised, because nothing really surprises me anymore. But for some reason, this joy and peace that exists, though sometimes I let it get buried under all the yuck, well, it still gives me that "aha" feeling.

Holidays can be tough.  No question there. And I'm guessing that many of you would agree with that statement. Yet I am reminded that God can and does go out of His way to remind us that we are precious in His sight, regardless of what month it is. I hope that you are able to recognize those reminders, whether you're the one that needs them or the one He has called to give them. Because there's no such thing as "enough already" with God. He takes delight in lavishing us with His unending love. I'm pretty sure that's what this Christmas thing is all about. And no matter how often I find myself exclaiming "already?" in regards to this season, I am ready.

Bring. It. On.

The Black Bundle that is Worry

2011-12-01T09:47:00.000-05:00

A woman had a dream...in her dream, she was walking along a highway with a large crowd of people, all of whom seemed very tired and burdened. The people were all carrying little black bundles, and she noticed that more bundles were being dropped along the way by numerous repulsive-looking creatures that seemed quite demonic in nature. As the bundles were dropped, the people stooped down to pick them up and carry them. Like everyone else in her dream, she also carried her needless load, being weighted down with the devil's bundles. After a while, she looked up and saw a Man whose face was loving and bright as He moved through the crowd, comforting the people. Finally He came to her, and she realized it was her Savior. She looked at Him, telling Him how tired she was, and He smiled sadly and said, "My dear child, these bundles you carry are not from me, and you have no need of them. They are the devil's burdens, and they are wearing out your life. You need to drop them and simply refuse to touch them with even one of your fingers. Then you will find your path easy, and you will feel as if "I carried you on eagles' wings" (Exodus 19:4). The Savior touched her hand, and peace and joy quickly filled her soul... Taken from Streams in the Desert

I wouldn't consider myself a worrier, necessarily. I mean, most of the time I am able to recognize the burden bundles that litter my path and simply disregard them. Most of the time. But I'm not content with most of the time. I want to grow in the consistency of my faith. And just when I think I'm getting closer, I discover that the jaw clenching of worry surfaces and those little black bundles are perched upon my shoulders.  I need reminders like the one above.  Visual images.  Timely challenges to just let it go already.

For me, there is a reason that Matthew 6:34 says "So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries" (click hear to read the verse in context). I tend not to worry about today. Today seems more manageable. More tangible. More "here." Tomorrow is where I have issues. I worry about making ends meet.  I worry about the brakes on my van. I worry about my hospitalized Grandpa and his health and the what ifs. I worry about my kids spiritual and social and academic lives. I worry about my future in general. My kids' future. I worry about my parents. My family. I worry about knowing what's next and where it will be and how I will know. It's all tomorrow stuff.  Which is not even here yet. So why do I weigh myself down so? It's silly. I even worry about worrying sometimes...after all, isn't there is a responsibility to lend an ear to those blaring worries and figure out an action plan, etc., etc., etc. Isn't there? Sure. Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe that's just an excuse to worry.

Sometimes my worry is birthed out of pride. The pride that I can handle things on my own. That I'm smart enough, strong enough and spiritual enough. And we all know where pride leads...nowhere. And fast.

Sometimes my worry is birthed out of forgetfulness. You'd think after the oodles of stories in scripture, books and magazines...in my life and yours...you'd think that I would remember God is faithful. If I can trust Him with my yesterday and with my today, I'm pretty sure He can handle my tomorrow and next month and next year. Yet I forget that simple fact at times.

Sometimes my worry is birthed out of other things that seems to dispute the feeling that I'm not really a worrier by nature. No, I'm not one that regularly imagines issues that don't exist and then let them control my day. But as I dutifully digested the above story this morning, I realized that I needed the reminder. Desperately. For last night was a night of worry. Perhaps even some issue imagining. Boy was it ever. Understandable? Absolutely. Did it solve anything? Not a chance.

God will take care of my budget, my van, my grandpa, my family, my kids, my future and even the imaginary scenarios. He will. It's a fact because He says it is.  But since He knows how thick my skull can be and how guarded my heart is, He very graciously provides a very impressive resume for my perusal as I wrestle with this whole worry thing.

He doesn't have to do that, you know. The resume providing. His word should be enough. But He does it anyway. Because He understands. He understands our limited vision. He understands how hard it is to let go. And yes, He understands the pressure that December can create with rising heating costs, Christmas, end of year budgets, tired vehicles, tired kids, tired mamas...and all those cold weather issues that creep up. It is not coincidental that He made sure we actually had a date on our calendars to help us with that whole Philippians 4:6 thing...

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

I wonder if that's why Thanksgiving is at the end of November? So we don't have any excuses. Thank first. Ask second. That's the order He assures us will work. And it does. Go figure.

I've used countless forms of imagery to assist me in laying my burdens down, in ridding my life of worry. I've read the verses and listened to the songs. It's still gut-wrenchingly difficult. It's still discouraging when I have a night of worry even when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He has it under control.  It's still a bummer when I wake up in the morning and realize that I focused more on the future unknowns than the current blessings.

Thankfully, God is patient and kind. He still offers irrefutable evidence of His faithfulness. Small gestures. Proof that He cares about everything on my mind and then some. He gives me countless reasons to rejoice in His faithfulness.

I don't know where you're at today. I don't know how the realization that it's already December 1st makes you feel. I do know where I'm at today...and that's a better place than I was last night. Because today, yet again, I am choosing to attempt to drop that ugly ole burden down and just rest in knowing that I'm taken care of. Choosing to attempt is not guaranteed success. I am human, after all. But it's a start, and a continuation and sometimes it's the ending, too.  The ending of all this worry garbage...one black bundle at a time.

I know that many of you have lots going on. Lots of things in your life that are difficult to not worry about. I know this because you've told me. And because, like me, you're human. So let's get rid of the black bundle that is worry. Deliberately and specifically.  Let's learn to live freely and lightly.

And let's do it together.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly. Matthew 11:28-30, The Message

11 Things You Learn Whilst Using Another's Kitchen

2011-11-29T06:50:00.000-05:00

Part of the fun of Thanksgiving this year was spending time in the kitchen with my mom, my kids and my Michigander Aunt on Thanksgiving Eve. Of course, since we were at my folks house, the kitchen being used, used and overused was my moms. Not mine. I learned a few lessons that may come in handy for all of you culinary experts that find yourself utilizing a kitchen other than your own at some point this Christmas season. Don't say I didn't warn you!

1. You will always spill more than when using your own kitchen. Especially powdery substances.

2. No matter how many times you look, the towels are not in the drawer which would logically correspond with the drawer containing the towels in your own kitchen.

3. Do not assume the other kitchen will have the ingredient you need or you will end up making an emergency trip to the store.

4. Do not assume the other kitchen will have another ingredient you need or you will end up making a second emergency trip to the store. Not that this has ever happened to me...but, um, well that's the word on the street.

5. Look carefully at the fine print to determine which burner you actually turned on. It doesn't matter which burner you think you turned on...it doesn't make it any hotter.

6. As long as the other kitchen has a coffee maker and a secret stash of chocolate, all else can be figured out one way or another. It's all, and I do mean ALL good...

7. Using a recipe that is older than the hills which contains words like "scant" and promotes vague directions such as "add enough flour until it's enough" is always more fun when there are other people to take part in the guessing. And the tasting. And the analyzing.

8. Do not mock the owner of the kitchen for loading the dishwasher and never turning it on. It won't end well.

9. Unless you plan on being subjected to a 30 minute lecture, do not even think about mentioning the lack of a stand mixer which requires you to (gasp) stir something by hand. And for heaven's sake, do NOT point out that the hand mixer offered in love to alleviate your hand stirring induced carpal tunnel is older than you are. Once again...it won't end well.

10. The funny dance moves that seem to work out in your own kitchen don't always translate well to someone else's.

11. Enjoy yourself. Laugh. Talk. Create. Be thankful for the time shared and memories created. And then eat hearty...because you are going to need as much energy as possible to get that mess cleaned up.

A Song for Monday

2011-11-28T11:02:00.000-05:00

Doesn't have the same ring to it, but alas, it is not Sunday. It is Monday...in all it's crazy glory. And it is today that I listened to this song for the first time (where have I been?!).

I have two words, especially in regards to the line "But when anything that's shattered is laid before the Lord, just watch and see, it will not be unredeemed"

The two words are as follows:

Yes and amen.

I get this. I've lived it.

Oh, and P.S...for this restoration and redemption thing...I am truly grateful. And humbled. But mostly grateful.

The cruelest world, the coldest heart,
the deepest wound, the endless dark
The lonely ache, the burning tears,
the bitter nights, the wasted years
Life breaks and falls apart
But we know these are

Places where grace is soon to be so amazing
It may be unfulfilled
It may be unrestored
But when anything that's shattered is laid before the lord
Just watch and see
It will not be unredeemed

For every choice that led to shame
And all the love that never came
For every vow that someone broke
And every lie that gave up hope
We live in the shadow of the fall
But the cross says these are all

Grateful: It Never Ends

2011-11-26T11:44:00.002-05:00

It really never ends, does it?

It's the little things, like laughing uncontrollably with my kids at this rendition of Mahna Mahna. Intrigued at how my childhood years and theirs seem to collide. And yes, grateful that they can and do. (click on the title and scroll down a bit to see what I'm talking about).

It's the big things, like realizing just how good God is as the kids and I clean up leaves and sticks and who knows what else on my folks property. Dad recovers from surgery, mom takes such good care of him and of us while we take over their abode for several days, kids transfer their eagerness to serve into several hours of hard work outside. I'm blessed to be able to get out of town and relax and have what could possibly be the best Thanksgiving yet. And, though slightly silly, I realize how blessed I am to have a tree-less property to take care of. God knew way in advance what I could handle on my own. Or "own-ish." I have some amazing people that help me out tremendously. They are absolute God-sends and I don't know what I would do without them! So to be more accurate, God knew way in advance what I would be able to handle along with the people He would send me to fill in the gaps. The bottom line is that God has blessed us with a home to live in today, and for as many days as He decides for us in the future. I'm grateful for that.

It's the in between things. The every day things. The special occasion things. The "I didn't see that coming" things.

It truly never ends.

I always thought of myself as a grateful person. And I think that most days I was. But in the words of Emeril, it's been kicked up a notch. In a season of life where everything was up in the air and nothing was predictable...gratitude increased. Of course, truly, that's how everyday is if we really thought about it: up in the air and unpredictable. So let's change the word "was" to "is" in my previous statement, and realize that if we do not live everyday with an off the charts level of gratitude then we are completely missing it. Completely.

All over the place, pumpkins and leaves and cornucopias are going back in their bins, replaced with wreaths and lights and countless configurations of red & green. Mums replaced with poinsettias. Cornstalks replaced with Christmas trees. Pilgrims replaced with the manger scene. But I'm not done yet. Because, truly, it never ends.

For my kids, health, heated home, clean water and food to eat. I am truly grateful.

For slippers, blankets, flannel sheets, hot coffee and hot chocolate. I am truly grateful.

For friends, advocates, defenders, protectors, supporters and people that believe in me. I am truly grateful.

For God's grace, love, mercy, truth, forgiveness, hope, healing, restoration and perfectly designed future. I am truly grateful.

For people that put up plastic sheeting on my windows, surprise me with a face lift for my driveway and create a clean stove in my kitchen. For those that give me meat for my freezer, gas station gift cards, kind notes in the mail, and phone calls on rough days. For those that give my kids the gifts I wish I could give them. I am truly grateful.

For silly movies that bring back such fond childhood memories. For coupons. Good books. Squash biscuits. Time. The ability to listen to music. The privilege to make music. For safe travel, fuzzy socks and cuddles with my kids. Old traditions. New traditions. The privilege to pray with and for people. For the people that do the same for me.

For the unexpected. The expected. And the ability to understand that each have their place.

For this and so much more. For that fact that the never ending urge to give thanks means there is a never ending flow of God's faithfulness.

Life is messy. I am imperfect. Days can be tough. Reality can be unfair, whatever that means. But I am a blessed woman. Truly and completely.

The list of things to be grateful for is long. It never ends.

And for that I am truly grateful.

Grateful: The Parental Units

2011-11-23T08:14:00.000-05:00

If you predicted that I would talk about coffee in this series of gratitude (which I did, of course), then hopefully you also predicted I would talk about my folks. Because as awesome as coffee is, my parents are way awesomer.  Bonus, I get to hang with them this weekend. My dad just had surgery and I'm sure is feeling a little stir crazy since he can't leave the house for like 700 years, so hopefully we can bring he and my mom a little comic relief if nothing else. And we will also rake leaves. Since there isn't a leaf in sight on our property, it will actually be kinda fun to do that I imagine, but I'll get back to you later on that.

Back to my parents being awesomer than coffee...

It can best be summed up in the telling of what took place one day in my living room. One of those days that seems like yesterday and like an eternity ago all at the same time, when it reality it was just a year and a half ago...one of the opening chapters of my story. I called my folks. I told them I needed to meet with them. They said OK and hightailed it over here. I would like to point out that they live several hours away. Not down the street. Not a town or two over. It was a road trip. But they had figured out I wouldn't have asked them to do something like that if it wasn't important, so it was a no-brainer to them. That's the kind of people they are.

They arrived. I poured coffee for dad and I. I cut to the chase, unpacking 12 years worth of stuff I had never shared with them, or anybody else, in record time. They tried to hug me. I wouldn't let them. I unpacked some more stuff I had never shared with them, or anybody else. They tried to hug me. I let them. After hearing things that no parent wants to hear... of my hurt, of my failures, of just how drastically different my life was at age 30-something than any of us would have ever expected...it changed nothing about how they viewed me. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Like Christ, my parents love me for who I am, not what I am or what I do or what I don't do or what "status" I have. Who I am. It's awesome, if you really think about it. But as I said before...my parents are awesome, so I shouldn't have been surprised.

They have been with me every step of the way. I wouldn't have blamed them at all for reacting differently to my situation. In fact, I have had countless people say that as well. To my parents it was a no-brainer. Just like that trip to my house. It's what parents do. But I had hurt them by keeping things from them for a long time. They thought they had done something wrong. They thought the distance that at times existed was because I was upset with them. That fact right there totally breaks my heart. It also breaks my heart to realize that if I would have continued to hold them at arm's length rather than call them that day, they love me enough to not push their way in. A severed relationship would have been me and my stinkin' pride's fault. Honestly, I don't really spend much time dwelling on that, because it would have been awful, and it didn't happen that way.  But I do realize that's part of what could have been, which makes me even more grateful for what is.

They've been members of my team. And just like the rest of my team, they've said things I haven't always liked to hear. They've pointed out perspectives that aren't always comfortable. They've challenged me. And that's OK. It's part of what makes them awesome. Of course, I didn't feel that way when they were grounding me from hairspray in my pre-teen years because I had gotten lippy with them...but you'll have that in the era of 80's hair. I mean...does anything warrant taking away a girls hairspray? I think not.

I sat in one of four parent/teacher conferences yesterday and the conversation turned towards a topic I didn't really expect to come up in such an early elementary conference. This teacher is a friend of mine whom I've known for a good 15 years or so, I do believe. She's an awesome teacher with a heart the size of Montana. We talked about how early these "social status" games start, with girls especially. And how hurtful it can be. We talked about how kids pick up on things and then incorporate them into their own attitudes. Sometimes good, sometimes not so good. Sometimes from their peers, often from their parents. I don't like games. Especially ones that seem to have unfair "rules."  As a mom, I don't want my kids to be punished for my shortcomings. I don't want them to be limited by my weaknesses. I don't want them to be defined by how much money we have or how typical we appear. I don't want them to be judged based on parts of their reality that are not their fault. Yet sadly, it can happen.  Yes, I do hold the power to teach my kids otherwise, but it's such a helpless feeling when you send them off into the wild blue yonder day after day. So, we talked about a lot of things along these lines and figured very little of it out. I'll be honest, I was disheartened. Until the teacher said these words:

There isn't a day that goes by that your child walks through those doors questioning your love for her. She is secure in you and your love and your care and no matter what anybody else thinks about you or her, she knows she's OK.

The same could be said about me. There isn't a day that goes by that I question my parents love for me. No matter what door I'm walking through, I am secure in that. I know they aren't perfect. I know that their awesomeness is because of a Bigger Awesomeness that they have chosen to live for. But, truth be told, they're still awesome. My parents are the epitome of the Christ-like love that each of us should live out.

And for that I am truly grateful.

Grateful: The A-Team

2011-11-22T10:34:00.000-05:00

It's time you know: I enjoy The A-Team. Furthermore, I feel the credits from this old-ish TV show are awesome. I wish I could make gun sound effects to insert here to further solidify that fact. Heck, I wish I could make gun sound effects period. My brothers rock at those. I was always jealous of them when we were kids for that reason. But it is what it is. And there you have it...confessions with Beck.

OK, so as much as I totally adore The A-Team, and how much I love love love it when a plan comes together, that's not exactly what I'm planning on writing about. Just so you're not disappointed...

I'm talking about my team. I've mentioned them before. The group of people that God directed me to assemble to walk alongside me in this journey of healing, restoration and lots of "new." Not just the friends that I have, which I am also thankful for, but the people that have intentionally entered a different kind of relationship with me. The ones that really know me...the good, the bad, the ugly...and have helped me to never ever ever be content with "good enough" or "that'll do."  Each of them made a conscious decision to be on the team when I asked them. Each of them have filled unique positions on this team. God's called some of them in just in time for the big plays. Others have been there since the first proverbial practice. You've got your upfront members and your behind the scenes ones. At times they've passed the ball to one another, called in subs and have forced me to take a time out.  But all of them have blown me away with their willingness to listen to God before they ever listen to or speak to me, even if that means saying things that have been hard for me to hear. And believe you me...that has certainly happened.

When things started getting crazy at the onset of my reality change a year and a half ago, I had people that came around me to try and just keep me afloat. And I needed those people. But it was as things settled in and the trickle effect of everything continued to gain momentum that my A-Team really came into play.  I leaned on my kitchen counter one afternoon, crying, yelling at God because I was just so ticked off and hurt and scared...and, well, it was clear that I could not do this alone. That night was a very significant continuation of me realizing that I HAD to have a team. Not just a supportive group of friends, but an intentional and purpose-driven team. A group of people to hold me up when I was unable to stand on my own. People that would pray on my behalf when I was speechless or angry or a combination of the two. People that would create a dynamic that was conducive to my healing...surgery healing, not just band-aid healing...and to my restoration. They did just that as they have walked with me on several levels.

Accountability: Not always a fun word, but so important. And not just during times of crisis, but all the time. Accountability is uncomfortable. It's intentional. I've found it must be requested...it rarely ever just happens. That's part of the impact of accountability. It exists out of a desire to be better and to find people that God can use to help that process. My team has kept me accountable in every possible area...finances, attitude, spiritual disciplines, relationships, eating, sleeping...you name it and someone is asking me about it. I don't always like it. But I need it. We all do. And I'm blessed that so many people were willing to put themselves out there and be there for me in that way.

Adjustment: There's been lots of it. And they have been with me through every step of it, sometimes gently supporting me as I work through it on my own, sometimes holding my feet to the fire when I've had a hard time letting go of the painful old and walking into the beautiful new. There have been growing pains. But nothing worth doing is going to be easy, and my team has helped me adjust more fully to that mindset.

Affirmation: They have encouraged. Given me the "atta girls." Reminded me of who I am in Christ. Believed in me. They've spoken truth into my life. They've lifted my spirits and reminded me of how far I've come and the good things that God has in store for me. And they've done the same for my kids.

Attitude: They've helped me keep mine in check. They've assisted in dismantling the ugly parts of it and creating a new one. And I say assisted because my attitude is always my choice. It's one of the very few things I truly can control. No matter what is thrown at me, I must choose what I'm going to do with it. But having someone call you out when your attitude stinks always helps that process.

Amen and Amen: They pray for me and with me and make sure I'm doing the same (Amen #1).    And then when they see God answer a pray or perform a miracle or do a mighty work, they agree with me in recognizing that HE did it and that HE is faithful (Amen #2).

I could say more, but I think you get the idea. I haven't always listened to God the way I should, but I am so grateful that I did in this instance...in the putting together of the A-Team. I'm grateful that they said yes and have followed through. I'm grateful for the part they have played in how far I've come and the healing I've experienced, realizing that all the plays they've been involved with has led us to a victory. I know that this team is a huge part of why I've been able to transition from my very important and appropriate "all about me" healing and restoration time back into a place of serving and singing and giving. Not that the journey is over. Not that the team isn't still assembled. I will never again live without this kind of a team. In fact, I believe that's how God would like it to be for each of us...not just rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn, but spurring one another along in love, remembering that the love needed most just may be the tough kind of love that doesn't feel all warm and gushy. But it's good. And necessary. And something I will never stop craving. Regardless of what you are going through, but especially if you are facing something pretty earth-shattering, can I humbly suggest that if you don't have a team that you start praying about assembling one? It will look different for each of us based on who we are and what life looks like, but it has the potential to absolutely rock your world. Which is what my team did for me, through the grace and strength and wisdom and timing of God.

And for that I am truly grateful.

Grateful: The Coffee Code

2011-11-18T11:20:00.000-05:00

Did you really think I wouldn't talk about coffee when referencing things I'm thankful for?  Never fear, though, this is going to be short, sweet and to the point.

Yes, I love coffee. I drink it pretty much everyday. I like the taste, the warmth and the extra ooompf if gives me in the morning.  And afternoon.  And evening. I've gone a few weeks at a time without drinking it. So, yes, it's doable. Just not preferable.

But way more than the coffee itself, I love the Coffee Code. It's not something that suddenly started over recent months...it's always been this way. It's just that I think I appreciate more now. Sometimes coffee is what it is. Hot and full of caffeine. But often, it's code for "let's get together and talk...REALLY talk."

Countless conversations have been had over a hot cup of coffee. Serious ones, funny ones...all meaningful. Sometimes at my house after the kids have been tucked in, sometimes at someone else's house when the kids are at school...or if we're really lucky, in a coffee shop with no kids as far as the eye can see. Dare I even admit to you that the phrase "go to coffee" was actually a fleece that I laid out as I was trying to determine if there was a next step that needed to be taken in renewing a connection with a friend of mine? Guess I just did...and in case you ever wondered how cool God is, He totally caused that exact phrase to be spoken by somebody who had never spoken it before in their life.  The rest is history. Except for what still remains to be revealed in the future...

Coffee conversations show up in every single chapter of my story. It would take me hours to even scratch the surface of the impact the Coffee Code has had in my life. As wonderful as it is, the impact is obviously not about the coffee. It's about the people God has given me. The person that I hope I am for others. It's about being real and open and honest. It's about new friendships, restored friendships and deepened friendships.  It's a common denominator for a number of pretty sweet moments that have taken their rightful place in my list of blessings.

And for that I am truly grateful.

Grateful: Children that Teach

2011-11-17T14:40:00.000-05:00

We were having our annual November conversation the other night.  The one spurred by this simple dinnertime question: what special thing shall we do to help someone out this Christmas?

As a grown-up, I rip this question to shreds and then some with all kinds of thought processes: What can we afford? What looks impressive? What will bring the most yield? What organization has earned a spot on the Branch list of special-ness? What will bring the greatest sense of joy and accomplishment to the kids? Do we do the same thing as always? Do we mix it up?  Choices, choices...

The kids, though, they don't think. They just do. Because that's just how it should work. They have toys, clothes, food and water. Other kids deserve the same.

"So, what are you waiting for, Mom?"

No strings attached. No strong arming. No politics. Just pure, unadulterated need meeting. It's precious. It's convicting.

So as we discussed options around the dinner table, I told them about someone I know that is gathering all kinds of people that have no clue who each other are and giving us a chance to work together to provide a well to a community through Samaritan's Purse.

Their reply: "Show us!"

I knew what would happen. Same thing that happened when we looked at the Compassion website a few months ago...they would not be able to turn their backs on the faces of those in need. They would not justify inaction by using the "well, we already" excuse. They would be the voice of God Himself telling me that it really doesn't matter if I think 2+2=4, when God calls you to do something, He can cause 2+2 to equal 16 if He needs to. I doubted, God hit me over the head, I said "ouch and OK" and we now rejoice every month as we pray over the pictures of our extended Compassion family. That whole process was quite a profound one in my world, and an ongoing one. I won't soon forget it.

I knew this was going to open up a can of something, so to speak, yet I surfed around online anyway, explaining to them how much money was needed for a well, the impact it would have, the type of community it would go to, how many kids would be saved by the well, etc. I was holding my breath, waiting for them to tell me to do something about it already.

But they didn't.

They left the room. Hudson spoke for all of them:

"That's it...I'm going to get my wallet!"

Eight legs marched up the stairs and back down. Eight hands started dumping bills and change on the counter. Four mouths inquired if the change was in fact OK...and then demanded that I pass it along to my friend.  Exclamations like "Let's get those people some water!" and "We are going to help you, thirsty people!" permeated the air.

As they counted it up, they forbid me from giving any of "my" money. I wasn't allowed near my purse. They wanted to do this one on their own. They calculated the sacrifice, each of them giving differing amounts according to what they thought they should do. They knew how many birthdays' savings it would cost. How many chores would need to be done to make up for it.

They didn't care.

Correction...they cared more about the faces of those in need than they did the faces staring back at them in the mirror hanging over the faucet that gives them clean water each and every day.

I know this response took place because of many influences: their school that has a contest in order to help stock local food pantries, their preschool that collected toys for local families, our church that gathers gloves and mittens for a local ministry to distribute to families, my amazing mom who each year looks through every page of Samaritan's Purse gift catalogs with each of them more times than she can probably even count...allowing each of them to pick out something for her to purchase for a child in need. They hear stories, they recognize over-doing it. And yes, I believe their increased sensitivity and awareness is also in part because of the way they have seen people surround and support us in tangible ways through the craziness of the past year and a half...and even still to this day.

Bottom line is this: they get it. And then they teach it. To me.

And for that I am very grateful.

P.S I would be completely off my rocker to not mention how you can add to my kids' pile of one dollar bills and loose change in contributing towards this well...I take no credit for the amazingness of pulling random strangers together for a purpose as great as this, but I will gladly do what I can to send you in FPFG's direction. (Just please do not ask her anything in regards to how big my hair was when we went to church camp together in Ohio.)

Click here to donate. It's secure. It's specific. It's self-explanatory.

Click here to read more about FPFG and the way that she has allowed God to use her voice to truly make a difference...as well as the gift she has given each of us by inviting us to get on board. I know she would be the first to tell you that she is just another flawed wife and mama doing her best to get her Jesus on and teach her kiddos to do the same. However, I will be just one of many people who will tell you that she is the real deal. She listens when God tells her to do something. Then she does it. I will never forget the random night about a year ago when I realized this to be the case on a personal level. She chose to neglect the fact that we weren't exactly close friends and that there are certain conversations you just don't have with people other than your besties. God used her in my life that night and I know He has used her in many other lives both before and since then. Needless to say, God has given her a platform. She is being a good steward of it. It's impacted my kids. And for that I am also truly grateful.

Grateful: I've Got Mail

2011-11-16T06:45:00.000-05:00

As I kid, I loved getting mail. Because when you're a kid, all mail is good mail, right? Magazines. Birthday cards. Letters from pen pals. None of that e-mail or texting or IM stuff. It was all about the pen and paper. As much as I loved writing, I loved being written to even more. I remember literally wallpapering my bedroom in the "3rd House in Williamston" (we moved a lot) with letters that my cousin Heather wrote me. She had the BEST smiley faces ever. She is a tad older than me, and I really looked up to her. Still do, as a matter of fact. So alongside my favorite box (yes, I had a favorite box...did I mention we moved a lot?) her letters were prominently displayed for regular reading. Of course, sometimes she wrote on the back of a page...how exactly to display those letters properly was always a dilemma, but I managed.

As an adult, I don't always love getting mail. Because when you're an adult, a lot of the mail is not good mail. Add to it all of that e-mail and texting and IM stuff, and it's less about the pen and the paper. But one thing remains: as much as I love writing, I still love being written to even more. I don't wallpaper my room with the mail I receive, but I do have a box of cards and letters and notes. And if it's an e-mail, I print it out and throw it in there. I'm so sneaky like that...

This "Grateful" series is a slightly thematic one. As I've reached some milestones of closure, healing and restoration in my life since a year and a half ago, I think it's only fitting that I spend some time remembering and sharing some things that I've come to be deeply grateful for in this process. I'll be doing my best to keep it real and personal, but not cross the line of "that really should have been shared in a face to face conversation, or maybe not at all." God gives us stories to share...so that He can be glorified and others can be drawn in closer to Him.  My prayer is that this series, starting with my post yesterday, will do just that. Moving right along...

Over the past year and a half I have been reminded time and again how powerful the mail has become, those letters and cards and notes. The ones written by hand. Addressed by hand. Stamp slightly crooked if you're lucky. I cannot even begin to tell you how critical these pieces of mail have been in my life. Much different shapes than the eggs I talked about yesterday, but just as big of an impact. Just yesterday I received a card from an older couple at my church. A couple that I don't really socialize with on the weekends or anything, but I know them both from various interactions. The card was simple. The message to the point. But to read the encouraging and affirming words penned by hand was breath-taking.

Needless to say, I've spent a lot more time writing little notes and addressing envelopes by hand over the past year. I love technology, but you just cannot beat getting something good in the mail.

Reading over my journal list of blessings I made reference to yesterday, I was shocked to see just how many of the things listed involved me walking down the driveway to my beat up ole mailbox held together with duct tape. Notes of encouragement. Anonymous gifts. An occasional shipment of cookies or cleaning supplies from good friends.  The bills started to become blessings once I realized that a need was just another opportunity for God to do something cool. And even the few pieces of not-so-cool correspondence were turned around to achieve things that were positive and significant...I can't help but chuckle at how ticked off those instances must have made satan.

I'm not even kidding you, it literally got to the point where I would pray about when I was supposed to go get the mail. If something discouraging was in the box, I wanted to make sure God had adequately prepared me. If something encouraging was in the box, I wanted to make sure I saw it at the moment I needed it most. If it was full of nothing but Oriental Trading Company catalogs and sweepstakes entry forms, I wanted to make sure I was stable enough to handle the disappointment (as much as I used to love looking through OTC). I tried to explain the significance of when I would get the mail to somebody just recently, and I realized how weird it sounded. But in all honesty...it was a REALLY big deal for awhile. And even now, God continues to poke and prod my heart in various capacities after opening and closing my mailbox which is no longer sporting duct tape, but does have a few missing pieces.

It seems like a silly little thing, and the fact that my mailbox has had such a rough go of it (click here if you need something to pass the time and find my mailbox issues of interest to you) makes it even sillier...but to me, I guess it's not so little or silly. Claiming my mailbox as a sacred place where God-things happen on a daily basis is something that God has done intentionally. He knows the significance, even if nobody else does.  It's been a key component in my story.

It's also been a reminder. Not just a pop-up window from Microsoft Outlook reminder...one of those convicting stick-around-for-awhile reminders. A reminder to write my Compassion children. A reminder to write my own children. A reminder to not moan and groan when the bills come, but rather count it a blessing that God has assisted me in managing those bills and providing what is needed to pay those bills. A reminder to write notes and cards and send anonymous goodies to other people. A reminder to prayerfully consider what He would want me to do with each of the opportunities to give funds to organizations and people doing really big things to meet really big needs in the name of Jesus.

Most of all, it's been a reminder that God talks to us. He communicates with me. Little ole imperfect me gets to have personal interaction with the Holy and Perfect Creator. And even on the holidays that give my wonderful mail carriers a break and leave my tattered mailbox empty, I have more than enough love letters to read. They are contained in a fairly large book. Perhaps you've heard of it? The Bible. The letters in that book are just as relevant and timely and powerful as anything else He sends my way...and the postage has already been paid. :)

And for that I am truly grateful.

Grateful: The Egg Chapter of my Story

2011-11-15T07:01:00.021-05:00

This past year and a half has been quite a journey. The kind that I wouldn't wish upon anyone...but the kind that I wouldn't give back, either. Seems oxymoronic, sure. But that's the best way I know how to describe it. Because pain causes growth. Change causes refocus. Brokenness makes room for wholeness. Emptiness makes us realize where we can really get our fill...

Among other revelations, it's been a year and a half of recognizing that giving thanks is not just a nice thing to do or a way to gain perspective. I've discovered it's actually a weapon. One that can be used to combat complacency, selfishness, self-reliance, a critical spirit, materialism, pride...and the list goes on. Many people do a "thanks" series this time of year using their websites, blogs, sermons, Facebook posts. I like that. It's a good thing. And I'm thinking I just may join the ranks of giving thanks by telling you all a few chapters out of my life-story that God has been writing in recent months...

There was a point late last summer where I literally didn't know how on earth I was going to feed my kiddos. Single mommyhood began, my employment ended and I won't even begin to go into all the other reality shifts that I was facing all at once.  Looking back, it is a true miracle that I didn't completely fizzle out. No exaggeration. Those were some dark, dark days.  Praise God for His sustaining power, strength and blessings. I had hit rock bottom, but on the flip side, I was starting a whole new way of living: by faith. Yes, I had always had faith that God would provide, but as an adult, I never really NEEDED Him to literally provide the food on my table and the strength to simply make it through the day. Well, that level of need changed pretty quickly, and we all buckled up for what we thought would be a bumpy ride...the driving-on-dirt-roads-in-Michigan-in-a-vehicle-with-no-suspension" type...turns out it's been more of a most-amazing-roller-coaster-EVER type. That just shows you how good God is.

So, things changed and continued to change. And we started praying. It was the kind of desperate "You better answer, God...or else" kind of prayer. The "or else" wasn't a threat. It was a reality. There were no other options. God needed to provide physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. It was all Him. He was the only thing, the only person that could rescue us.

And then the eggs entered the scene. It may not seem like much, but to me, it was the first time I realized that God truly could and would provide the most basic of needs for the kids and I. Food. Which contributed to the realization that He would also provide the other basic needs we had: stability, support, companionship, trust-worthy people, hope, help, healing...the list goes on.

Here's how it went down: We went to church one Sunday morning.  By the time we got there my energy was already depleted. I walked around like a zombie, pretending I was the same ole Beck...knowing that it was pretty likely that nobody believed me, since most everyone knew the surface level at least of what was going on in my life.  I tried to appear calm...but my guts were tied in quadruple knots and I just wanted to collapse and cry, begging for help, admitting how terrified I was of my future and how alone I felt. I knew the church was where we all needed to be, I had been on staff there for crying out loud, but I cannot even begin to tell you the amount of effort it took for me to get us there. I got the kids where they needed to be, sat in the same section up front that the "old Becky" always sat in, muscled my way through the service trying to not use an entire box of tissues and then as quickly as possible went to re-claim my children and get the heck out of there.  But I was stopped in the foyer.

I was told that there were some farm fresh eggs in the refrigerator that we were welcome to take. As many as we could eat. And there would be more there the following Sunday. And the Sunday after that. And the one after that. Now, there's nothing extremely emotional about eggs, right? But I cried. And I cried hard, of course, not until I had my head buried in the industrial size refrigerator lest anyone see me. In the grand scheme of all I was going through, I suppose it's not a big stretch to believe that free eggs would make me cry. But, well, I guess I'll leave it at that. I tried to sneak out of the church as incognito as possible...my pride not wanting anyone to see that I was "reduced" to taking free eggs, let alone crying about them (yes, I do realize that pride does us no favors...).  As soon as I safely closed the door to the minivan holding my four precious children who were inquiring about lunch, I lost it. Wait, that sounded wrong...I didn't lose my lunch. I lost my composure.  In other words, I bawled like a baby.

ish items became a lifeline between God and us. We prayed for food. He gave it to us. This ongoing dialogue between us and God continued. Knowing what I know now, I realize those eggs were just the very beginning of God revealing His faithfulness, lavish provision, compassion and desire to love on His children in a new and deep and ever so relevant way.   If I had been too proud to accept them, or admit that I needed them, or minimize their significance, well, I hate to think of how different things would be for us now.

I have a list several pages long in my journal of all the ways God has cared for us specifically over the past year and a half. That list contains some things of all shapes and sizes, for which I'm very grateful, and over the next few days I'll be sharing some of those with you. But the one that stands out to me the most? You guessed it.

Eggs.

Sorry...I don't know about you, but I need a little comic relief right about now. I'm way over my daily tear allowance. :)

God knew just how far to stretch me to increase my faith. In this particular part of my journey, He had to stretch me to the point of not knowing where I would get food to feed my kids. He let me get to that point, because He knew I had some things I needed to learn there. Since then, He has blessed me in ways unspeakable with income opportunities and amazing sources of provision, often through surprising and even anonymous gifts (and if you happen to be one of those that has blessed us in this way...here's a virtual squeezy hug for you, as my daughter would put it). No, I'm not in the same place I was when the eggs appeared, and for that I am grateful. I'm not going to get all super-spiritual-ninja on you and try to appear holier than I am...I like stability and predictability. And food. So, no, I don't wish for the return of those days. Yet I still desperately need God to make everything work. And He always does just that. My days are full of awesome reminders of His faithfulness despite the stretching. Reminders that I still need. Reminders that I will try my best to always welcome. There are things we go without, sometimes willingly and sometimes out of necessity...but we're just fine with that. Actually, we're more than fine. We're better because of it. God provides for every need that comes our way and has taught us an awful lot about the difference between what we think we need and what we really need. He's also shown us the power of prayer, the importance of generosity, what sacrificial giving looks like, how to take our what we have and use it to bless others and the fact that God delights in giving us gifts, too...the "above and beyond." For my kids to be able to grasp these concepts at this age is awesome. Oh, who am I kidding? For me to be able to grasp these concepts is just as awesome, if not more so.

I'm thankful for those eggs. I'm thankful for the people that gave them to us. They were the start of something that I had no idea was going to continue way past the season of Eggs for Lunch Sundays.. They were a catalyst for spiritual growth for all 5 of us that ate those eggs. They were an opportunity to make positive memories out of challenges, to build stronger bonds with each other, to learn lesson upon lesson upon lesson.

And I'm not at all stretching it to say that those eggs were nothing less than God saying: "I love you, Beck. You, too, Ash and Hudson and Cam and Brooky. We're going to make it...together."

The eggs may not be in my refrigerator anymore. But they played a very critical part in my story.

And for that I am truly grateful.

Whatcha Trying to Say?

2011-11-14T11:19:00.000-05:00

My friend sent me this snippet from her devotional the other day...

I read this today in my devotional...

God chooses people He can depend upon. He knew what to expect from Abraham and said of him, "I have chosen him, so that he will direct his children...that the Lord will bring about for Abraham what he has promised him." God knew Abraham would "direct his children (Genesis 18:19)." The Lord can be depended upon, and He desires for us to be just as reliable, determined, and stable. This is simply the meaning of faith...God knows that you can withstand your trial, or else He would not have given it to you. His trust in you explains the trials of your life, no matter how severe they may be. God knows your strength, and He measures it to the last inch. Remember, no trial has ever been given to anyone that was greater than that person's strength, through God, to endure it.

Hmmm...whatcha trying to say, Lord?

I always feel this compulsion to explain to the world that I am fully aware that my "trials" are minimal...often even trivial...in comparison to others. God has given me food and a house.  Good health and healthy children.  He is the Master of provision and encouragement.  His goodness and faithfulness unending. So what do I have to complain about?

Satan wants us to remain distracted. And so often, he uses the medium of pity to create that distraction. I think that pity is related to pride. And pride is of no use to the Lord.  We need to stay away from that whole "my life really stinks" thing. I get that.

BUT...I'm pretty sure that when God says to cast all of our cares on Him, there was either a few missing pages with the sliding scale that would qualify us to do that, or He never intended us to compare our heartbreak to others.  I think He'll certainly overhaul our priorities. Convict us of selfishness. Show us all the areas where we first need to thank Him before we jump into our woes. Think of others before thinking of ourselves. Absolutely. Those are all critical parts of being a Christ-follower. But let's not forget that He cares about all of us and every part of us.  Limiting His smallness is just as wrong as limiting His bigness.  In comparison, my life is well, it's simpler than the many faces of "the least of these." But to deny God's desire to give me strength in my own little itty bitty trials, I think, would be wrong.

So, as I read these little snippets of encouragement...as I continue to plug away at the healing process that is taking new twists and turns on a daily basis...as I experience things that are challenging and exhausting and invigorating all at the same time: I know that God knows. He knows how much of what I will need each and every day. Then He offers it to me. The choice to receive it is mine. It's a simple concept, really. One that I can claim in my own life. One that I can claim in the lives of the many that I am privileged to pray for. And one that I must implement in tangible ways as I consider the fact that God's desire is for me to turn my strength and provision and encouragement around in order to meet needs in other people's lives.

God knows what He can expect from us.  He selects our trials carefully and perfectly, providing the strength to get through it, and the grace to actually thrive while doing so...then eventually uses the whole thing to encourage, bless and strengthen others as they walk through what God has allowed them to walk through. And then they help someone else...and so the process continues.

Pretty cool the way God works it all out, if you ask me.

Be encouraged, friend. Regardless of which part of the process you find yourself in today, He is at work in your life just as He has been in mine this week, this weekend and even today.  His strength, perfect. His timing, flawless. You can trust Him.

I think that's what He's trying to say to all of us: We can trust Him.

He Said My Name (I Saw Him, Part Two)

2011-11-09T11:18:00.000-05:00

Don't worry...I've cried all 27 times that I've watched this.

I cry because I get it. Because I've been there. We all have, haven't we? If we're honest, the answer is yes. We deny Christ daily with our actions. Attitudes. Words.

Some of us find ourselves in a place where the spotlight is or has literally illuminated our denials of Christ. Some of us find ourselves in a place where it just feels as though that is the case even though nobody really knows all our garbage.  But He still knows.

Peter totally screwed up. He turned His back on the Lord. Literally. Repeatedly. And it broke Him.  Peter wept. Bitterly. Definition of rock bottom right there, folks.

And then Jesus said his name. "Tell the disciples and Peter..." Could just as well have been "tell the disciples and Becky..." or "tell the disciples and insert your name here."

God responds to brokenness. He is close to the brokenhearted...whether you're broken because you've realized how you have denied Christ through your own choices, broken because of the choices others have made or a combination of the two.

God responds to brokenness with a healing touch that far surpasses human understanding. Sometimes that healing requires discipline first. Sometimes it requires time and energy to literally put yourself in a place where you are able to heal. Sometimes it involves a complete redefinition of who you are, who Jesus is and what your future looks like. But it always involves Jesus saying our name.

For me personally, the aftermath of my most recent brokenness has involved all of those things. My brokenness was in part because of the choices I made and in part because of the choices other people made that were completely out of my control.  I had to deal with my own garbage, take the time and exert the energy to heal and redefine somethings in my life. It took a good dozen people...my "team" to help me walk through this over the past year. A team of amazing and spirit-led people. Some of these folks were no-brainers...family members, best friends, pastors of both my past and present. Some of them were individuals I never in a million years would have imagined becoming so close to.  We literally laugh at the fact that God placed us in each others lives the way He has.  It's hysterical! God has used these people as Jesus with skin on, His helpers...to convict me, support me, provide for me, encourage me, pray for me, teach me and hold me accountable in every area of my life.

I'm thankful for this team of people that have filled the role of the angel...delivering the message to tell "the disciples and Becky" that He is alive. That everything is OK. That He has never stopped saying my name.

I'm thankful that God has given me opportunity to declare my love for Him.

And I'm thankful for His command to "feed His sheep." For His restoration. The very same invitation that Jesus extended to Peter to continue to serve Him, he extends to us.

It starts with brokenness. It's filled with grace. It ends with restoration.

As I sat in church this past Sunday, watching this video and soaking in all the other elements of the service, I started thinking about the events over a year ago that led me to write this post called I Saw Him. Amongst others, I wrote these words that day:

I saw Him in the eyes and arms of a church who gathered around a broken individual...offering forgiveness, acceptance, love, support and encouragement. A church that has been given a chance to be Jesus, and started that process in someone's life in a very real and touching way.

I've seen Jesus many times between that day and this. I've heard Him say my name just as many times. Sunday was just more of the same. Same room, same Jesus, some of the same people...but a new part of the journey. It started with brokenness, has been filled with heaping amounts of grace, mercy & love and ends with restoration...or perhaps it simply begins again. Yes, that's more like it.

As I was dialoguing last week with one of my pastor-team members from another church, anticipating the significance of the coming Sunday, he said this:

I was driving home from Bethel yesterday, and some voice on the radio said, “No matter what you’ve done or what has been done to you, YOUR FUTURE IS SPOTLESS!” For me, it was the voice of Christ.

For me, it's the voice of Christ, too. The same voice that says my name. The voice that reassures, comforts and encourages. The voice that lovingly confronts me with all the stuff that is hindering me from knowing Him better. The voice that promises hope and future and promise. The voice that demands the waves to be still, commands satan to step aside and promises to defend, protect and use little ole me.

My future is unwritten in my eyes. Uncertain for sure. And sometimes it's a challenge to refute the fear that goes along with that. But when Jesus looks at it, it is spotless. Sins are forgotten. Hurt is healing. It's a clean slate for Him to do whatever He wants. He knows exactly what is around the corner...always has...and He is molding me and shaping me to be an exact fit for the future He wants for me. He has not once walked away from me.

If I would have ignored His voice...if I would have assumed that my past is something that disqualifies me from having my name spoken by the Creator of the Universe...if I would have refused to declare the holiness and saving power of His own name...if I would have swept my new and messy reality under the rug in hopes that nobody would notice...things would be much different. While there have certainly been moments that I've been tempted to just give up, I simply was never able to get past the fact that Jesus said my name. Reassuring me that things were going to be OK, asking me if I loved Him and telling me to feed His sheep.

Once you've heard it, once you've embraced it, once you've received the amazing grace that God offers each and every one of us...you don't soon forget it. Nothing is too big, bad, ugly, confusing, painful, out of control, messy or course-altering for Him to redeem. Nothing.

If nothing else, my prayer for this next part of my journey is that others will hear Him say their name. That He will use my story in a way that makes His voice a little more audible for those around me. That this renewed passion I have for people to experience true freedom in His grace will encourage just one. That I will continue to have ears tuned in to His voice...His grace...His call.

He said my name. And He's saying yours, too. Are you listening for it?

11 Things that Rock

2011-11-06T20:05:00.000-05:00

1. The incredibly cheap mums and free pumpkins I acquired to adorn my front porch are still intact. Mums aren't dead...pumpkins aren't rotten. Score.

2. I have been blessed to see my best friend from out of town 3 of the last 4 weekends. We didn't even see each other that often when we worked together. Lots of miles, but lots of smiles.

3. My mom. Thanks to her, my two fall birthday girls had awesome parties with some of their awesome little girl friends. I may be able to put "event planner" on my resume, but she is the BEST at little kid birthday parties. Hands down.

4. Lincoln Park After Dark OPI nail polish. And the people that know me well enough to know that it's the best. gift. ever.

5. God's knack for designing/planning/orchestrating some of the most unpredictably unique, appointed and anointed friendships at just the right moment in time. The kind that meet our needs and bring Him glory in one single swoop.

6. Weekends.

7. Mondays (sorry...but I do love me some routine after a wild and wacky weekend).

8. A stapler that actually has staples in it that one time in a blue moon that you need to staple something at home.

9. People that make me laugh hard enough to snort. Not that I do snort...but if I did...those people would rock.

10. Sushi. With chopsticks and plenty of wasabi, of course.

11. The reality that God will never waste anything that is given to Him. Whether it's a life, a circumstance, a good thing, a difficult thing, a small gift, a large gift, an insecurity, a confidence, a fear, a promise or a faith that is the size of a mustard seed. He'll take it. And He'll use it. Every single time.

Counting Sleeps (not Sheeps)

2011-11-03T21:23:00.001-04:00

After listening to my children have conversations like this...

Maybe someday we'll buy a tree for our yard.

We can't. That's church day.

No...SOMEday. Not SUNday.

Well, Sunday is a day. It could be that day.

Yeah, but it's not.

Why?

Because I said SOMEday, not SUNday...and you can't get trees on church day.

Oh. Right.

...it's no wonder that my children have taken to counting down to significant events by announcing how many sleeps are left until such and such happens instead of how many days. It's just easier that way, apparently. Two sleeps until grandma comes. Three sleeps until a birthday. Seven sleeps until a friend comes over. 9,254 sleeps until Mom starts paying us back for all the grief we've caused her. It works for them.

Of course, I often have difficulty tracking this. Do I count power naps in on the sleep count? What happens if I find myself eating a bowl of magically delicious Lucky Charms at 8:14 PM as I am tonight? Doesn't the evening presence of a morning food cause confusion somehow? And what if I wake up during the night, fall back asleep, wake up, fall asleep...I can only imagine the hullabaloo that causes for my fingers as they try to keep track of the sleeps. And yes...sometimes I do count on my fingers. Mock if you must. But be nice, because you know you do it, too.

Scripture tells us in 2 Peter that a day is like a thousand years in God's eyes. So I don't think God counts down to things like we tend to. Which is a good thing. That could get even more confusing than my late night consumption of breakfast cereal.

Maybe Jesus counted down when He was living on earth...

5 sleeps until the Magi come for a visit.
14 sleeps until I get to freak out the disciples by walking on water.
37 sleeps until I am going to be brutally tortured and murdered because that's how much I love Becky Branch.

Um, yeah. Wow and ouch.

I've been thinking a lot about God's grace lately. Digesting every morsel of anything I can get my hands on in order to understand it. Not that I ever will. It's a crazy thing.

I wonder how Jesus counted down the sleeps until He was able to offer His full and free grace-gift to me. To you. To the very ones who necessitated His death.

It's a silly thing to think about, really. Except to say that Jesus knew it was coming. He knew what was going to happen. He knew that as His Father God deployed Him to be born as a wailing, naked baby that life would not be all fun and games. He knew as soldiers were beating Him that He was allowing each and every strike to rip His flesh for their very own salvation. Isn't that ironic?

And He knew that when it was all said and done, that I, too, would need His grace-gift time and time again. For I am no better than the crowd who mocked Him. The soldiers that beat Him. The friends that betrayed Him.

I have a feeling that Jesus didn't count the sleeps until His own harm...rather, I have an inkling that if He counted down the sleeps to anything at all, it would be the number of sleeps until He could offer the gift I cannot do without:

Grace.

It's existence doesn't mean that He waters down the truth or makes light of sin.

It doesn't mean that there isn't natural consequences and even punishment for wrong-doing.

It doesn't mean that things will always look the way we think they should.

It doesn't mean that it's a one time only gift exchange...it would be a rather lopsided one anyway. My life for His grace? Doesn't seem like a fair trade, does it?

It does mean that He allows room for restoration and redemption. Time and time again. He picks up the dirty and broken pieces, does some crazy ninja-juggler thing with them, says "voila" and completely takes our breath away at how He is able to create such an amazingly beautiful masterpiece out of the trash we cluttered up the floor with.

He moves on. Beckoning us to come along with Him. Assuring us that there really is no need to count down the sleeps...because every single sleep will eventually lead us into a new day. A day with new mercies and continued faithfulness (see Lamentations:3 for more on that one).

Don't get me wrong, I will still join the kids with great gusto as they count down sleeps to various occasions of excitement. And I have a rather current list of my own, too, though a tad more mature in nature...well, except for the fact that I may or may not be counting the sleeps until a certain Muppet movie hits the theaters...but don't tell anyone. That's just between you and I.

But better than any birthday or movie or visitor or coffee-date or party or just about anything else, is the fact that we can bank on Jeremiah 29:11 being true - God has plenty of good things in store for us, even if we don't know exactly how many sleeps there are until they happen.

And it all starts with accepting His grace-gift.

Which means I no longer have to fret about how power-naps and cereal snacks alter things, do I?!

Nice. In that case, I need a refill on my Lucky Charms...

BBB

2011-11-02T08:37:00.000-04:00

I'm all about the time-saving shortcuts this early in the day. Of course, now I have to explain that BBB means Belated Birthday Blogging, which in essence caused me more work in the long run. Oops.

In the midst of all the excitement that the Branch house has been under the influence of lately, it dawned on me that though I had a 6 year old turn 7 in my house last month, I had yet to bring any attention to her. So as I'm preparing for my 5 year old to turn 6 this month, I figured I had better give a shout out to my Cam-a-Lam. Not that she'll notice. Her reading skills are pretty astonishing, but I have rules about computer usage around here, so I highly doubt she will read this. BUT, that's not the point. The point is not to do this for her, it's to do it for me...and whatever ones of you there are reading this. Because if you've ever met Camryn, you remember her well. The reasons for this certainly vary, but she definitely leaves her mark on your heart.

I could probably sum it up in three words: Camryn is incredible. She has facial expressions that would put any Hollywood actor to shame. A heart bigger than Arkansas. Blue eyes that will reel anyone in in approximately 2.14 seconds. A little voice that absolutely soars as she sings songs to her Jesus. Dance moves that I could only dream of pulling off. A compassionate spirit that would rival with that of Mother Teresa. She's stinking hilarious. And cute. And determined. A very special gift from God.

It seems as though I've gone from her being proud for sitting up by herself,

to her being proud for being able to read all by herself in just a few blinks of the eye (and yes, she went from a black eye to a set of eyes enhanced by some pretty stylin' glasses, too...)

Camryn has had an impact on many. She doesn't meet someone without having a lasting impact on their lives. And I myself am included in this category of impact. I'm proud, humbled and blessed to be her mommy.

Happy Birthday, Camryn!

My Thoughts on...Surrendering...and Significance.

2011-11-01T09:56:00.000-04:00

"I surrender all. I surrender all. All to Thee my blessed Savior, I surrender all."

Simple words. Simple tune. Simple predictability that if you grew up in the church, as I did, or if you've frequented camp meeting, as I have, or if you ever found your way to any kind of special missions service, as I've done, this song would be sung. Probably more than once. With an indefinite amount of repeat signs peppered throughout.

The concept of surrender is simple.

The reality of surrender is intense.

I'm finding myself in a position of understanding that not one day passes that there isn't something I need to surrender.

Some days, like the day I posted this, it's my fears that must be let go of.

Some days, it's my hopes.

Some days, it's my stuff.

And some days, it's God's yet-to-be-filled-in-a-way-I-can-see-them promises to me.

Plans, dreams, money, time, fears, hurts, ideas, fame, attitudes, children, the past, the present, the future, our rights, or the vague yet ever-present umbrella of "the unknown." Anything that can stand in the way of dancing cheek to cheek with my Savior. It's gotta go.

In our society, surrender is often equated with defeat.

I beg to differ.

Victory. Freedom. Life fulfilled. It all comes through that little phrase...

"All to Thee, my blessed Savior, I surrender all."

I remember my mind-set as a teenager that as long as I surrendered once, maybe twice a year, I was good to go. That was acceptable. Showed that I was open to God, but not too desperately out to lunch. After all, pastor's kids have a reputation to uphold, right?

I probably held on to that mindset longer than I would care to let on...or even realize.

The thing is, is that if I'm truly doing my best to walk in stride with Christ, I will have a constant attitude of surrender. A constant need to surrender. A constant desire to surrender. Big stuff. Little stuff. In between stuff. Anything that keeps me from pressing into Jesus and becoming more like Him. It. Must. Go.

God has never been as real to me as He is now. And my goal is to be able to say that each and every day. My goal, or rather my commitment, is to grow closer and closer and closer to Him, allowing Him to be more relevant and real and rich in my life. I'm humbled at the work He has done in my life, the ways that He is restoring me and the future that He has in mind for me. As I see certain elements of that unfold, it leaves me a little shell shocked at times. In a good way. Yet I'm also aware that even those promises, those hopes and dreams, the "good" stuff that He has assured me are coming down the pike...those need to be surrendered, too. Because they will likely involve some growing pains, which are never fun. And it will never look the way I think it will look. At least, I hope it doesn't...because His imagination far surpasses mine.

Surrender requires vulnerability. Letting go. Faith. Unknowningness.

But in putting myself in that "oh wow...this is kinda scary" place, it allows Someone else to swoop it and do the "I'll take it from here" thing. And I like that. I REALLY like that.

Today is a significant day. Do not ask my why. I do not know. I just know it's a significant day because God told me it was going to be. Every other time He's warned/promised me a day was going to be an important one in my life, He has come through on that warning/promise. And I do think sometimes it is just as much of a warning as it is a promise because God's significance often shows up in ways that I do not desire or predict. And it often comes with resistance from the enemy. But it's always really, really good. So though He has promised today will be significant, I have to surrender that right back to Him. I may not understand for 25 years why the significance. Or, it may be quite obvious. It's happened both ways over recent seasons of life, well, except the 25 year thing. That's a ways down the road...but you get what I'm saying.

As I've been praying this morning, I realize just how much significance and surrender go hand in hand. Because though there have been particular days that God promised and delivered specific and special significance, the bottom line is this:

Each day that I live a surrendered life is significant.

Significant now. Significant eternally.
Significant in my life. Significant in the lives of every other person I come into contact with.

Sometimes that significance is tangible, physical, see-able. Sometimes it is not. But it's significant because living a surrendered life means living a life that God is free and clear to move and do and be. And that right there is about as significant as it gets.

Letting go. Surrendering. Whatever else you want to call it...it's never easy. It means turning our backs on what we know, what comforts us, what is predictable, on our own ability to control. It leaves us feeling naked. Perhaps frightened.

But it also opens us up to a whole new world of possibility. A whole new level of living. As cliche as that may sound, it's so very true.

Let me just say, that if you've ever wondered if God is going to take care of you or do what is truly best for you as you go through the surrendering process...if you've ever wondered if you can really trust Him with that terribly uncomfortable and vulnerable position of surrender...if you've ever questioned if there is a need to surrender every single nook and cranny of your life to Him...

Let me just say that He will. You can. And there is.

Safe

2011-10-26T11:58:00.003-04:00

Safety.

As a mother, it's a word that holds one of the top slots on the the wish list of what I want the most for my children.

Safety from harm and hurts of all varieties. Physical. Mental. Emotional. Spiritual.

There are things I can do to help create safe environments for them. Whether it's avoiding harm altogether or cleaning up the aftermath. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's hard. It involves relying on the wisdom from my Creator that no amount of parenting classes or counseling sessions or 'how to" books will ever come close to. Yet there are times that even on my closest-to-perfect days in this highly esteemed role of being a mommy that I simply cannot make any promises.

And I hate it.

Load ME up with as much hurt and harm and unsafe-ishness as you want. Harm me. Hurt me. Do whatever you want to me. I'll deal. But don't you dare mess with my children.

Please, God, don't let anyone mess with my children.

Of all the things that I've had to work through given my desire to keep everything neat and tidy and controlled, this is the hardest. I don't think anyone would fault me for that. But I have moments where the fears that satan tries to infuse into my very soul are not manageable for me. Fears about completely random and irrational things. Fears about things that are a little (or a lot) more understandable and rational.

It's one thing for me to trust God with my own safety. To know that He will guard me. Protect me. Cradle me. Give me the grace and strength I need to weather any storm. But these little lives which have been entrusted to me...well, that's a whole other level of trust to walk through.

And I don't always do it as gracefully as I would like. Sometimes I cry a little too much, or try to take too much into my own hands. Sometimes I let my imagination get the best of me and start planning more "escape routes" than anyone should ever have scribbled into their already cluttered mind.

Help me, Lord. I don't know how to do this.

If you're looking for answers, you will not find them here. Not from me. Because today, perhaps like some of you on other days, I am scared. I'm full of the kind of fear that is not of the Lord. The kind that well thought out plans will not erase. The kind that makes me crave for a reality that is different than the one I find myself in.

Yes, God has walked through every iota of the wilderness with me. And thankfully He has surrounded me with people and promises and a brain with enough sense to help me to escape a 40 year sentence in that wilderness.

Yes, He has protected me from much, always faithful to give me what I need to survive the things that He, for whatever reason, has determined I could actually handle along the way. Sometimes I don't agree with Him on that one...but He is in charge. I am not.

Yes, I have learned, witnessed and praised Him for His faithfulness through all of it. And I have very good reason to believe that He is preparing to reveal another phase of this journey that just may shake things up a bit...in a "God is good" kind of a way.

And yes, of course, I do realize that the One that has been faithful to me in walking through my own junk is the same One that will continue to do that in my life and in my kids lives.

But it is still hard. Right?

It is still enough to drive me to my knees and plead for God to sweep me up and cuddle me tight.

It is still enough to bring me to that place of knowing that no matter how much I think I can handle or control or predict, that I am nothing without Him.

It is still enough to make me realize that as much as I hate seeing my kids hurt, God hates it more. And He is just and fair and right. And He has their back just as much as He has mine.

But they're just kids, God. They can't handle this. It's too much.

And yet I have to know that if He filters and dilutes what touches me, He will do the same for them.

The disciples went and woke him up, shouting, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” Jesus responded, “Why are you afraid? You have so little faith!” Then he got up and rebuked the wind and waves, and suddenly there was a great calm. The disciples were amazed. “Who is this man?” they asked. “Even the winds and waves obey him!”

I don't enjoy the feeling of knowing I'm no better than the disciples who went out on the boat with Jesus. Knowing that I should probably be a little embarrassed by the fact that I'm yelling at the Creator, questioning the outcome of the storm...fearing for all of our lives. Knowing that I totally miss it sometimes. But also knowing that His response to me is as sure as sure can get.

God is not only safe, God is safety.

He does not promise safety from all the yuck.

He DOES offer us safety from death. The kind of death that wants to eat away at our souls while we're on this earth and the kind of death that could overtake us eternally.

The irony is that it is only the death of ourselves...the death of our own ideas and plans...that in fact gives us life.

A life in which fears will certainly come, but they do not have to consume.

So I guess that the true safety is not contingent on what fears surface, but rather what fears are redeemed and turned into a testimony of God's faithfulness.

It's still hard. I still struggle. And honestly, I don't even feel completely safe in being this transparent about the whole thing. I have no idea whose eyes are reading these words that I type. But it is what is, yes? And I know that God can use all things. Even my thoughts...good, bad, ugly or fear-consumed.

I won't ever apologize for wanting to protect my kids from harmful actions, thoughts, words or intents. And I don't know if I'll ever feel badly about giving a limited amount of attention to those things in my own life, either.

Letting fear consume me? Well, that's different.

Lord, forgive me.

I'll keep working on it...

More than a Feeling

2011-10-19T13:48:00.000-04:00

God sometimes does influence us with a simple touch or feeling, but not so we would act on the feeling. If the touch is from Him, He will then provide sufficient evidence to confirm it beyond the slightest doubt.

Consider the beautiful story of Jeremiah, when he felt God leading him to purchase the field at Anathoth. He did not act on his initial feeling but waited for God to completely fulfill His words to him before taking action. Then once his cousin came to him, bringing the external evidence of God's direction by making a proposal for the purchase, he responded and said, :I knew that this was the word of the Lord" (Jer. 32:8). A.B. Simpson

Jeremiah waited until God confirmed his feeling through a providential act, and then he worked with a clear view of the facts, which God could also use to bring conviction to others. God wants us to act only once we have His mind on a certain situation. We are not to ignore the Shepherd's personal voice to us, but like "Paul and his companions" (Acts 16:6) at Troas, we are to listen and also examine His providential work in our circumstances, in order to glean the full mind of the Lord.

Never say in your heart what you will or will not do but wait until God reveals His way to you. As long as that way is hidden, it is clear that there is no need of action and that He holds Himself accountable for all the results of keeping you exactly where you are.

(Taken from Streams in the Desert)

I remember that night... as if it was yesterday. The memory is one of the most distinct ones I have. God whispered these words to me:

"Becky, I will never ask or expect you to act on emotion alone. Don't be afraid of somehow missing something or being in disobedience if it involves figuring out and sorting through emotions only. If I need to speak to you, I will use a different form of communication. In the meantime, hold fast to the path you are on. I am with You every step of the way."

I cannot tell you what relief that brought to my heart. I quickly wrote it down in my journal, suspecting that there would be other nights, mornings, afternoons, that I would need to reread those words.

I was right.

But it's ironic, because when I studied the book of Jeremiah several months ago, I didn't pick up on the significance of his situation as it's explained above.  It makes total sense.

I'm a woman. No shocker there. And us women, well, we tend to have a distinct advantage (or disadvantage, depending on the day) in understanding how emotions can impact us. For me personally, the struggle of listening to my emotions and acting on my feelings was intensified because of the nature of the hurt that I've experienced in my life. I realize that I don't hold a monopoly on hurt by any stretch, I just know that the specific types of hurt that I've had over the past few years had caused me to doubt myself in every way possible. I didn't feel I had any worth other than the falsely defined worth that people had placed on me. I didn't feel that I could reason or discern because of the way in which I had been trampled on.  And I didn't feel like I had the strength to make the choices that I knew had to be made because satan had been working overtime to destroy the very core of my spirit.

I started to understand that I had been taken advantage of. I had been used. I had been hurt very deeply. Satan used some extreme measures to try and steal as much of the real "me" as he possibly could.

As many of you know, those experiences impact not only the body, but the mind and the spirit, too. It can absolutely crush you through and through. Now hear me...God is capable of re-inflating, let me tell you! But that night in which God spoke to me, I was not feeling it. Certainly not to the point of being able to have of confidence of who I was in Christ, let alone finding the ability to act in that confidence.  Satan had been doing his best to keep me feeling hopeless, helpless, controlled and all shrunken down. He did this by stirring up all kinds of emotional turmoil, knowing full well that I was having a hard time trusting my emotions. I was having a hard time trusting, period. Frankly, I was confused. But here's the deal...God knew all that, too. Which is why He said what He said.

He met me where I was, with full knowledge of all the baggage, old scars, fresh wounds and challenges that had settled into my lap. And He reassured me that He wasn't in the business of trying to fool me. I wasn't a mouse trying to find my way through the maze to get the cheese while He tried to muffle a sinister laugh as He watched me scramble.

He's not like that.
He's clear. He's sensitive. He's trustworthy.
Not full of trickery. Not cruel. Not even capable of betrayal.

In fact, He chose to put Himself in a position to be "tricked." Treated with cruelty. Betrayed. So He knows exactly how it feelsto be me. To be you.

He knows that in those dark hours, it is important to have an trust-worthy ally. Someone who deliberately bends down to your level. A promise to communicate and guide and direct in a way that is easily understood when everything else around you is far from understandable. Replacing confusion with clarity. And that's what I think happened to me on that night as I called out to Him. And what happened to Jeremiah as He sought Him out regarding a big decision.

I'm thankful beyond words for the ways in which He has always followed up that gut feeling or women's intuition or whatever you want to call it with "sufficient evidence to confirm."

I'm thankful beyond words that He has proven the above quote to be true..."As long as that way is hidden, it is clear that there is no need of action and that He holds Himself accountable for all the results of keeping you exactly where you are."

He wants us to succeed. And He gives us exactly what we need to do so, whether it's whispers on a lonely night or a cousin to assist with the purchase of land. He often plants those gut feelings and emotions, but as the song says, when it comes from Him, it's more than a feeling. It's a first step in telling us where He wants us to go and what He wants us to do. It's a matter of us having our eyes and ears open to what He wants to show us. Surrendering. Realizing that sometimes our feelings can and will lead us astray...not all of them are from the Lord. His "sufficient evidence" will prove that as well. And yes, sometimes it's in our own best interest to learn patience and obedience while we wait for God to follow up. But it's always in our best interest. And that confirmation will always come at precisely the right time.

I don't know if you relate more to Jeremiah's story or to mine. They are different, yet they are the same. And whichever one seems to resonate more with you, I hope you catch the fact that God is faithful. He is fair. And if you seek Him, He will never ever leave you hanging. He knows where you are. He will meet you there, speaking a language you can understand. His prompting may start with your gut, but it's more than a feeling...it's merely the front edge of seeing His all-encompassing way of reaching out to us on every level (mind, soul, body and spirit) unfold in sheer perfection.

A Tale of Two Weekends, Picture Book Edition

2011-10-17T13:02:00.001-04:00

Last weekend could be sufficiently summed up with one picture, and one picture alone...

In a rather spontaneous and last minute fashion, Saturday was deemed M&M Day (Mom and Me Day). With the help of my mom's stellar childcare skills, some gifts cards and plenty of coupons, I took each of my kids on a mini-outing. Of course, they all involved coffee and a snack or a meal. Needless to say, I think I may need to replace the title of M&M Day with the title of LSHLBBCHO Day (Let's See How Long Becky's Bladder Can Hold Out Day). It really was a ton of fun...each outing a little different from the others, the course of each being determined by the child of the hour. The coolest thing of all is that each of the kids got to experience an "extra" determined by their Heavenly Father while we were out and about. Bargain leg warmers for my fashionista, a free sundae for my caramel-addicted little man, extra fresh strawberries for my fruit loving Miss Thing and surprises galore in the midst of playing Old Maid in the coffee shop for my opinionated Mini Me. And let's just say that it did my mama-heart a world of good to hear them recognize the Giver of the gift. And, of course, they each got a bag of M&M's at the end of the day.

As for this weekend, well, we filled it as best we could with the kind of Fall Fun that must be had in the Midwest. Such as...

Jumping on a giant pillow.

Trying to pose for a family photo while the wind threatened to knock you over.

Cuddling on a train ride with fabulous friends.

Trying to smile through shivers.

Sitting on straw.

Leaning on straw.

Throwing straw.

And what the heck...might as well jump into the straw hole of doom, too.

There was corn to play in,

and pumpkins to pose with.

Bulls to ride on,

and animals to gaze upon.

Throw in a few days of being hosted (and spoiled) by one of the most wonderful non-family families that exists, a best friend for good measure, a short trip to IKEA simply because they have the coolest escalators ever, a very cool experience meeting in a home church (you'll hear more about that part) and some serious jamming/singing/laughing/talking on both the ride to and from...and all was well in the world.

Yes, the week smooshed in between the two weekends had it's own set of glamorous events. My daughter celebrated turning 7 by getting glasses. Haircuts. Open House at school. Projects. Lessons. And a few surprises along the way...a number of conversations, experiences and significant moments that have found a prominent place in my Journey Journal. I'm always astonished at how God chooses to reveal Himself to us. Never predictable. Always perfect and promised filled.

The weekends were unique: One weekend involved deliberate individual time. The other found it's fun in the midst of many. One weekend was in good ole Indiana. The other in a different state altogether. The phrase "going to church" meant much different things on each weekend. My bladder was put to the test on both weekends (welcome to my world), but that's one of the only similarities. Well, besides the fact that God provided for each weekend to happen at the perfect time, designed meaningful moments for each and that we simply had. a. blast.

It really doesn't get much better than that...

Hide and Speak

2011-10-13T09:43:00.002-04:00

"God will fight the battle for you.

And you? You keep your mouths shut!"

Exodus 14:14

If there are two things that the Creator knows about me, they are these: left to myself, I would probably deal with challenges in my life by either hiding or by speaking up and proclaiming my opinions to the world. Opposites in some ways, but for me, those options feel a lot better than vulnerably throwing myself out there and/or being silent. And if you know anything about me, I guarantee you are laughing right now. Because God has asked me to do a lot of those things as He has helped me work through both my control and my pride issues. So, I've done my best to be obedient in that. Not hiding. But not speaking either. Just letting Him take care of things for me.

Which is why Exodus 14:14 cracks me up.

Correction, which is why God directing me to Exodus 14:14 three or four times within a time span of 24 hours from completely unrelated sources cracks me up. So much so, that it has taken me a good week to even process the humor. And maybe the significance, too.

So here's the bigger picture...The Israelites have been freed from slavery. They are on their way to bigger and better things. God has made Himself known to them with some rather impressive displays of His power, creativity and sense of humor. They understand His grace, mercy and love. They've also seen His justice, discipline and "I've had enough of you, Pharaoh...no more chances" on display. We don't often like to think about that side of God, because it doesn't feel good, but it's there. God has no favorites. He loved Pharaoh just as much as the next guy, but He was sick of him making bad choices and lying about his intentions, and his time was up. But I digress...

So the Israelites are free. Moses is leading them to a life of blessing. And then they freak out. Pharaoh's army is after them. Crud. Now what?

"As Pharaoh approached, the Israelites looked up and saw them— Egyptians! Coming at them!

They were totally afraid. They cried out in terror to God. They told Moses, "Weren't the cemeteries large enough in Egypt so that you had to take us out here in the wilderness to die? What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt? Back in Egypt didn't we tell you this would happen? Didn't we tell you, 'Leave us alone here in Egypt—we're better off as slaves in Egypt than as corpses in the wilderness."

Really? That's what you're going with? You'd rather be slaves than have to walk out your faith in a God that has already shown He is faithful? And you're going to turn on the very one that God has chosen to rescue you? Sheesh.

Moses spoke to the people: "Don't be afraid. Stand firm and watch God do his work of salvation for you today. Take a good look at the Egyptians today for you're never going to see them again.

God will fight the battle for you.
And you? You keep your mouths shut!"

And then God put his two cents in:

God said to Moses: "Why cry out to me? Speak to the Israelites. Order them to get moving. Hold your staff high and stretch your hand out over the sea: Split the sea! The Israelites will walk through the sea on dry ground. Meanwhile I'll make sure the Egyptians keep up their stubborn chase—I'll use Pharaoh and his entire army, his chariots and horsemen, to put my Glory on display so that the Egyptians will realize that I am God."

(As an aside...I find it hilarious that God is able to take people that are full of themselves to, at the end of the day, display even more of His glory. Booyah.)

I highly doubt that any of us have an entire army chasing us. But who hasn't felt pressed on any given day? Who hasn't felt like they are under attack on any other of those given days? While I firmly believe that sometimes those things that feel like are attacks are actually God's fair and appropriate discipline for those He loves, there are certainly times that is not the case. Times that satan wants to flex his muscles a bit and try to beat us down, using whatever is available for him to use. And in those times, we may lose sight of who the true enemy is. We may think it's people. Or businesses. Or governments. We may be tempted to fight our own battles and speak loudly to anyone who will listen. Or, on the flip side, we may be tempted to hide like cowards. To run back to what we know, even if it is slavery and certain death.

Sometimes God will tell us to speak. There have been times in my own life where He has told me to be quiet, but then slowly revealed the times and people to which that silence no longer applied.   And sometimes, for our own good, He will tell us to go under the radar. Not hiding, persay, but laying low. The key in those times is being driven by wisdom rather than fear. And again, I've had that happen, too.

God gave me an opportunity last night as I was chatting and praying with my ten year old to talk this out. She was dealing with a very fresh situation that made her feel kinda scared, kinda hurt, kinda ticked off and really uncomfortable.   I shared Exodus 14:14 with her. We talked through the options...was this a time to go under the radar? A time to speak up? Or a time to simply be quiet and let God fight the battle? A time to remember all the ways that God has shown up in the past? A time to recognize that God is always fair and just in His dealings...which means our job is to simply be obedient and graceful in our actions and attitudes, take a step forward, give Him a chance to be honored and let Him decide what to do with Egyptians.

We decided on all the latters. And we will trust God to show us if that approach needs to change.

Hiding and speaking were my autopilot for a long time. I praise God that He decided to keep giving me opportunities to reprogram that autopilot. Or rather, replace the autopilot altogether. As I told my daughter, that doesn't mean I don't struggle or screw up, sometimes saying more than I should and sometimes closing the blinds and ignoring all forms of social media and communication. BUT, He's been faithful. To teach me. To give me wisdom to know which is the best thing to do in various situations. To give me the chance to help my kids walk through some of the same stuff.

I don't know what's pressing in on you. Maybe you have some junk in your life that you haven't dealt with...unconfessed sin...and so it's actually God's love-birthed discipline, requiring you to accept it rather than fight it. Been there done that, my friends. It's rough...but it is so worth it.  "If you reject discipline, you only harm yourself; but if you listen to correction, you grow in understanding." Proverbs 15:32. Who doesn't want understanding, right? There is never too risky a move or high a price to pay to gain Godly understanding, or wisdom. Discipline is scary, hard and humbling. But it's worth it.

Or maybe it truly is satan doing a muscle flex right in your face...and the best thing you can do is to stand firm, look to the future and walk forward into the sea. And to do it quietly. Also scary, hard and humbling. Also worth it.

I've always been a "gotta figure it out myself" kind of gal. I wouldn't recommend it. It is not reliable. Not. At. All. God, however, is. Whether it's discipline or satan muscle flex. A time to be silent or speak up. Lay low or stand tall. God already has it figured out. He knows all. Ask Him what to do if you're not sure. He'll tell you. I promise.

Whatever you do, do not let fear control you. The fear of the Lord, well, that's appropriate. I don't want Him to have to pull a Pharoah on me and drown me in a sea because I ignored all His other attempts to set me straight. There's a healthy fear that should exist, because we are told God is just and holy and fair (2 Chronicles 19:7). But all the other fears, well, those are not of God. So as you let Him fight the battle for you, remember this as well...

"Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.”

Deuteronomy 31:8

Funny or Not So Much...It All Depends

2011-10-11T12:57:00.001-04:00

There's been some funny going on here in days of late. Sometimes it's been clearly funny. Sometimes it's been the kind of funny that requires considering the source...like my children and their joke telling. Sometimes it's been a sad/weird/what the heck do I even do with that/guess it's best to just laugh kind of funny. And sometimes it's been the kind of funny that I'm not sure if it truly is funny, or it it's just me, or if it's only because I'm a rare breed musician type and there are certain things just left in the safety of a music office so that I don't get openly mocked.

Whatever the case may be, this cracks me up. And I'm slightly (but not completely embarrassed) to admit that when I watched it this morning within said music office of safety with fellow rare breed musician types...I laughed out loud. The sheer impossibility of this is just rather amusing. As if anyone has that many fingers. The terror that creeps into my soul as I see the amount of black ink continue to increase throughout is humorous. And then there's the ending...well, I don't know. Just call me weird and get on with your day. And piano students...watch out. I just may force you to try playing this if you don't practice your Hanon and scales like good little boys and girls (Insert evil laugh here).

I still am trying to figure out how they got a recording of me at my senior piano recital in my college days...

It's Sunday. Here's a Song.

2011-10-02T16:41:00.000-04:00

Videos like this one assure me that the lyrics written have not been penned without an obvious grasping of reality.

They give me a glimpse into the heart of the artist.

And though I have never shaken their hands or read their biographies...I think Tomlin, Maher and Giglio get it.

"As I pour out my heart..."

They get that there are stories.

"I lift my hands to believe AGAIN."

A before and an after.

"Be still, there is a healer."

There are wounds of every variety.

"You are faithful, God, forever."

And they get that there is another One who gets it, too.

So whether today is a day that you feel and sense and grasp His faithfulness, His grace, mercy, healing and strength...or whether today is a day that it takes everything you can muster within you to simply remember and choose to believe those things exist, even though the "feeling" seems to be at least as far away as the moon is...

Whether you are peacefully soaking in the river of His love or whether you are barely sticking your toe in, trying to decide if you really can trust Him or not...

Whether it is a day that you can lift your hands, or whether you need someone to lift them for you...

May this song be an encouragement. A reminder. A challenge. Just like it was for me.

Be still, there is a healer
His love is deeper than the sea
His mercy, it is unfailing
His arms are a fortress for the weak

Let faith arise
Let faith arise

I lift my hands to believe again
You are my refuge, You are my strength
As I pour out my heart, these things I remember
You are faithful, God, forever

Be still, there is a river
That flows from Calvary's tree
A fountain for the thirsty
Pure grace that washes over me

Some Requests

2011-09-29T17:25:00.000-04:00

My son is quietly playing Legos in the living room. He requested to bring them all down here so he could "be" with the rest of us.

My eldest daughter is listening to her Christmas practice CD, singing along happily. She requested a highlighter so that she can make sure she does her personal best in her home practice time.

My two younger daughters are playing school in the front room, armed with spiral notebooks and pencils. They requested that Miss Branch (that would be me) "meet" with them so I can hear a progress report regarding my children's math facts.

How could I ever request anything more simple, yet more fulfilling?

This time, these memories, this indication of a redirection and re-focus in my own mother's heart and Christ follower's perception...it's beautiful.

It's not without it's own set of challenges...I mean, it is me we're talking about. The one guilty of hiding behind busyness and always saying yes and even "ministry" things in order to avoid my own pain. My own sin. My own selfishness. My own pride. But that has changed.

My to-do list, for now anyway, is not full of things centered around other people or maintaining certain images that simply must be upheld.  It's centered around my new reality. My new vision and purpose. My kids. My own growth and health and peace. It's an adjustment, yes. I did not request it, per say. But you will not find me requesting an exchange or an upgrade.

Christ served. The end. It wasn't glamorous nor was it prestigious. And if I want to be like Him, I should be requesting more opportunities to serve selflessly. Silently. Under the radar.  Should I not?

I've got some of that going on...and there are things on my to-do list which are related to the opportunities God has given me to provide for my family and to impact His Kingdom. It's not like it's all dentist appointments, school field trips, counseling appointments and intense one-on-one time with various human beings...though some days it does feel like it, believe you me. But this season that I'm in...with all of it's growing pains and adjustments and relearning...it flippin' rocks.

There is waiting and unknown, as I cling to the all that the Promiser says and I listen to all the words that the prophets in my life pass along to me. But there is a joyful anticipation.  I sense that another season is approaching. One that will involve more growing pains and adjustments and relearning. Some may feel this rebuilding season of the past year has gone too fast. And there were times that I felt it was going too slow. But at the end of the day, or the season, it is Christ that determines the timeline. And I know that I know that I know that I'm where I'm supposed to be, just waiting for Him to unfold the "next."

In the meantime, the only request that I have is that God would teach me what I need to be learning right now. Preparing me. Refining me. And I'm pretty sure that God's request of me is along those same lines. I do believe that He enjoys His part in the "beauty from ashes" process.

I'm sure that momentarily I will have to referee my children, the bacon may start to burn and somebody will have a crisis. The prospect of my third child needing glasses may sink in. Some behavioral and medicinal challenges with my son may overwhelm me. The rain may get to me. But right now...this moment...I have no requests.

I am content. Not perfect. Not always level headed or without heartache. But content.

I am content in the work that God is doing in my children and I. Not apathetic. Not done learning and growing, not by a long shot, my dear friends. But content.

But I also, at the moment anyway, have no more requests. Just a list a mile long of things that I can be thankful for...and an even longer list of all the things I know I am going to be thankful for in the future. Because I don't have to request plans to prosper me, use me, heal me and shine through me. God's already promised those things. So now, I can just wait for it with a belief that He is already well on His way to making that future bigger and better than I could ever think of to request anyway.

My request for you? Believe the same in your own life. Trust the process. Start the journey. Believe that God knows best. And when I forget all those things on the hard days...please, remind me.

Get Your Laugh On

2011-09-28T07:01:00.001-04:00

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter."

E.E. Cummings

Well, if that's really true, than these silly little stories shall prove to you that yesterday was certainly NOT a waste.

The first thing out of my rather groggy 1st graders mouth yesterday morning, stinky breath and all: "How many sleeps until the dentist?" You see, my two youngest daughters are ~~mad at~~ furious with me. Why?  Because I scheduled the older two kids' dentists appointments before theirs. They are literally counting down the number of sleeps until D-day (that would be Dentist-day, for those of you that didn't catch it). Most kids count down for their birthdays or Christmas. Mine count down for fluoride and plaque scraping. I do not understand them. I tell them so. They just laugh and tell me I'm weird. Yeah...like I'm the one that deserves to be laughed at. Honestly.

As the afternoon grew gloomier and gloomier, we decided a game of I Spy was in order. Now, I Spy can be a rather fun game. It can also be rather boring. But when you play it with my youngest child, it is neither of these things. It is freaking hilarious. Because she stares at the item she has selected with more focus than a lion that is stalking it's prey...and then she cannot for the life of her figure out how her opponent successfully guesses the item right off the bat.  So she just giggles. And giggles. And giggles. And pretty soon, her opponent decides to use the same technique to create more giggling. And then everyone is giggling so hard that it's hard to actually see the color of anything anyway. Game over. Good times, I tell ya. Good times.

My voice student arrives. She's preparing for a performance. I grabbed a mic stand out of the garage for her to practice her stage presence and the like (don't all people keep mic stands in their garages??   Oh. Really? Well then, never mind.)  The music starts. I feel a giggle about to erupt. I desperately try to contain it, I really do try, but I cannot. I bust up laughing, unable to explain why I just interrupted her very heartfelt rendition of the song "True Colors." She looks at me as if I'm certifiable...which isn't too far off...but still. "I'm sorry," I tell her once I'm able to compose myself. "You have black grease all over your nose and I can't possible sit here and watch you sing this song without laughing until I cry. Your singing is fine...but...well...please just go wipe it off." It still makes me laugh just thinking about it. It was hilarious. But maybe you had to be there...

Bedtime. I went to tuck my kids in. I walked into the blue bedroom and pulled back the blue covers to reveal what I thought would be my son in his blue pajamas. It wasn't. It was a conglomeration of not-blue tissues & stuffed animals along with an impressively creative use of a car track filling in for his legs. As I was realizing that he pulled an "Escape from Alcatraz" maneuver on me (which happens to be one of my favorite movies...don't ask, I don't know why) something grabs my leg from under the bed. And growls. I wet myself. Well, not quite. But I did jump. He got me.  He got me good. And he knew it, too. His laughter proved it.

Ah, laughter. It's a good thing. It's a needed thing. I can remember days that I didn't laugh much at all. But that has drastically changed...and I feel I need to put you all at ease about that after yesterday's post. I have my moments, yes. But one of the many things that God has restored in my life is my laughter.  Some of the most poignant reminders of God's faithfulness are when people say things like "It's good to hear you laugh, Beck." If you hear me laughing, it's the real deal. It is literally impossible for me to fake belly-laugh, my courtesy laughs are awful and I detest being tickled.  Seriously. I hate it. My laughter can only be created out of the kind of joy that runs true and deep. And I do not AT ALL take that laughter for granted. Woody Allen says it best...

"I am thankful for laughter, except when milk comes out of my nose."

OK, perhaps that's not quite the closer I was looking for. How about this one...

"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength" Proverbs 17:22.

Yes, that's better.

Make sure you laugh today. And if you can't find anything to laugh at, come on over. I'm sure I'll do something stupid enough to cause at least a slight giggle to surface.

The Brave Face, the Tissues and Russian Roulette

2011-09-27T10:16:00.000-04:00

Last night was one of "those" nights. You know what I'm talking about...the stars and planets and tires for that matter were all aligned perfectly, creating the biggest cry baby this side of the Mississippi (and yes, I said those letters out loud while I typed them...giggling slightly at the last 4, because I'm just immature that way). I was a mess.

Oh, don't get me wrong...nothing terribly catastrophic happened. I had a wonderful evening with my kiddos, ending with Brooklyn claiming the title of wrestling champion in the final round against this old mama of hers (Fair and square might I add. Don't cross her...she will crush you). The walls shook with laughter. The floors shook, too, but I doubt they were laughing much. Bedtime was smooth. Conversations were authentic. It was a good night.

And then the stars and planets and tires all ganged up on me.

I held it together while I exercised. I put on my brave face for my friends on "The Sing Off," because they clearly can tell the emotional state of their audience (I'll spare you the trouble...I'm rolling my eyes at myself). And then the last song was completed and the stars and planets and tires gave me one last shove and I was a puddle.

Sheesh.

I did all the things I normally do when faced with this scenario...reviewed who I am in Christ, who Christ is, all the ways He's been faithful, my determination to not allow satan to mess with me, the promises God has burned into my brain. I did it all. And I hate to say it, but I ended up doing the Russian Roulette thing with my Bible. You know what I'm talking about...randomly opening your Bible to see what God wants to say to you. The thing I used to do when I was in Jr. High school when feeling like I needed something really profound and exciting and inexplicable (Oooo...so maybe instead of being pathetic I was exhibiting the "faith of a child?" Yep, let's go with that). Except I kinda think that I might be have been cheating just a little because I know my Bible will open up to Psalms, since the Psalms have been open permanently for the past year, AND since I was, after all, the Sword Drill champ in Sunday School. I can find Psalms with my eyes closed. So, it's highly likely that I was limiting God to speaking to me in that particular book, but, well, it is what it is.

I read Psalm 145. Which was actually a very good fit for where I was at last night (go on...click here. You know you want to read it). It's one of my favorites. God and I exchanged some words. I went to sleep...exhausted. (Note to self: exercising when emotionally distraught may cause you to actually spend too MUCH time on the elliptical. At least I have some ibuprofen in the cupboard...)

So this morning, after taking my ibuprofen and downing some coffee and throwing away the tissues from last night, I read Isaiah 30:18:

So the Lord must wait for you to come to him
so he can show you his love and compassion.
For the Lord is a faithful God.
Blessed are those who wait for his help. (NLT)

That's good stuff...too good to stop with just one version. Luckily BibleGateway.com and I are close friends. Let's try another:

But God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you.
He's gathering strength to show mercy to you.
God takes the time to do everything right—everything.
Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones. (MSG)

Nice.

Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the LORD is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him! (NIV)

And because I'm all hopped up on caffeine, let's go with one more...

And therefore the Lord [earnestly] waits [expecting, looking, and longing] to be gracious to you; and therefore He lifts Himself up, that He may have mercy on you and show loving-kindness to you. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) are all those who [earnestly] wait for Him, who expect and look and long for Him [for His victory, His favor, His love, His peace, His joy, and His matchless, unbroken companionship]! (AMP)

And there you have it. Or I have it. Or we have it.

God longs to be gracious and kind and loving to us.

He is a just God. He does things the right way.

And if you are waiting for something, whether you know what that something is or not, you will be blessed. Lucky. Envied. Fortunate.

Sometimes I look around and think "What the heck is going on here, Lord? Seriously?!" If my kids aren't in the same room, I might even say it. Loudly. Sometimes there is a specific reason. Sometimes it's completely out of the blue. Sometimes it's in my own life. Sometimes it's as I watch and pray and wait for something to shake loose in somebody else's life.

Waiting stinks. BUT...

Who do you believe? Do you believe our fast food/fix it quick/drive thru everything under the sun culture that says you deserve an answer and you deserve it now?

Or do you believe the Creator of the Universe? Who says He is longing to pour out love and compassion and mercy? But He will ALWAYS wait until it can be done properly. He will ALWAYS act justly, defeating and punishing and flat out destroying the enemy and rewarding the faithful (see Psalm 145 for more on that one). And you will be blessed.

Perhaps I shouldn't have cheated when I played Russian Roulette with my Bible. Perhaps He would have chosen this verse for me last night. Or perhaps I'll stop over-analyzing and just accept these promises, knowing that even as I've already shared this verse with a few folks today...it was timely in their lives, just as it was timely in my life coming from one of my friends.

It's rainy here. Pretty gloomy. But the rain is a good thing in the grand scheme of things. And it won't always be this way.

And so it is with the waiting, too...

I Normally Don't do This

2011-09-26T09:17:00.001-04:00

If you're on Facebook, chances are you've seen this quote or variations of it floating around on a good number of status updates. I read it a few weeks ago (before status updates were overtaken with venting about the new format) and it struck me. But because the stubborn side of me refuses to do anything considered a "trend" I didn't repost it. I didn't blog about it. But I can't stop thinking about it, either.

I've been talking with one of my best friends about the roles of men and women within our culture...within our families...within the body of Christ. We've looked at Scripture, we've looked at real life examples. What God intended. What can and does happen as a result of sin. From Adam and Eve on down the line. It's been a good dialogue. It's been one that continues to challenge me as a mom trying to raise my children with healthy and Godly perspectives and truths, while clinging to the fact that God can take situations that weren't His ideal and still make something stunningly beautiful out of them. Because if you haven't caught on by now, that's where I'm at in my life. Things didn't turn out the way I had dreamed as a little girl...pretty sure nobody daydreams about their "fairy tale ending" involving being a single mom of four in their 30's. Or at any age for that matter. But, for reasons that are numerous and not known by the vast majority of the population of this small town I call home, this is where I am. God is more real to me now than ever. And though the journey has been the hardest thing I've ever experienced, I am better because of it. I am closer to my Jesus...and that is one seriously intense sliver lining.

So this trendy quote...here's one version.

We need to teach our daughters to distinguish between a man who flatters her and a man who compliments her, a man who spends money on her and a man who invests in her, a man who views her as property and a man who views her properly, a man who lusts after her and a man who loves her, a man who believes he is God's gift to women and a man who remembers that a woman was God's gift to man.

The way I see it, to teach our precious girls anything else is to teach them that they aren't worth as much as God says they are worth, thus leading them to believe something other than truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

To teach them that anything else is to teach them to run towards the counterfeits satan uses to try and lure us away from the Almighty. And frankly, those counterfeits are often far more damaging than the "obviously bad" apples.

To teach them anything else is to NOT teach them to act as though they are deserving of the very best. To open the door to compromise all the wider.

As for the boys...well, we need to teach them a whole heckuva lot of things, too. To love God first and foremost and without abandon. To view themselves as leaders with great responsibility, importance, promise, expectations and value. To treat our girls in a way that shows them how valuable they are in God's eyes. And to treat themselves in a way that indicates that same value.

Bottom line is this: We are made in God's image. Men. Women. With uniquely designed personalities, roles, passions, gifts, strengths, and yes, weaknesses. But we matter. God said so. I believe it.

The above quote is a good one. But I think it boils down to a pretty simple truth: if we love God before we love ourselves, others, or anything else...our attitudes and actions and words will fall into line.

Yes, we need to teach our girls those things. But let's also teach them to guard their hearts...

Prov. 4:23 “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.” (NLT)

...for their is a great reward in sight when they do.

Matthew 5:8 "God blesses those whose hearts are pure, for they will see God.” (NLT)

I want my girls to understand their value, their worth...and for them to understand it so deeply and personally that they make consistently good choices when temptation surfaces. I want my boy to understand that his Heavenly Father sets the bar pretty high in what it means to be a real man, but that God and other Godly men are here to help him see that, learn that, want that, be that.

But more than anything, I want all of my kids to see God.  In creation. In Scipture. In their circumstances. In me (yikes!). In themselves. In others.

I want them to see that they are royalty...worthy of the very best, with a very high calling. Made in God's image. Worth the very life of His Son.

I want them to see that actions and words are a result of heart and attitude and how right they are with God.

That they absolutely need to be on guard against falling for or being a counterfeit.

That us grown-ups aren't always the best example of being or seeking the type of person that the quote describes.

But most of all, I want them to see God. And to live in such a way that makes this obvious.

So while I normally don't do this...I just did. Trendy FB quote with a little bit of "Beck" thrown in for good measure, for what it's worth.

It's not enough to believe it. To preach it. To quote it. To use words to convince people that you are it. I've tried all those things. They don't work. And the pride that comes with thinking that you've got a "good enough" handle on things will destroy. You have to internalize it.  Surrender it. Live it. In word and deed. In private and in public. If you do, you'll see God. It's a promise in Scripture and I could give you plenty of examples from my own life, too.

If you don't take a thorough approach to this heart guarding thing, well, God sees that. And He will pursue you until you either tell Him to get lost (which hopefully you won't do) or you let Him do His thing. Restore you.  Give you back the years that that locusts have eaten (Joel 2:25-26).  Give you back a double portion of honor and provision and joy.  (Isaiah 61:7-8). Those are promises, too.

Promises which I humbly cling to, thanking God every step of the way.

Colossians 3:17 "Let every detail in your lives—words, actions, whatever—be done in the name of the Master, Jesus, thanking God the Father every step of the way." (MSG)

For My Fellow Runners...and the Rest of You, Too

2011-09-23T12:15:00.001-04:00

Many of you local running friends of mine ran a race last weekend. I didn't. It bummed me out. But I am soooo incredibly proud of you guys. And I will be joining you next time around. You have my word.

This week has been a pretty successful one in establishing some new approaches to this whole "four kids versus one mom" thing that exists under my roof. I'm thankful for God's faithfulness in that...as He has provided wisdom and patience and has rewarded both the kids and myself with a pretty obvious dose of joy and peace and contentedness. I'm noticing growth in all of our lives, and it's so encouraging. I will fail every single time if I try to be a mom in my own strength. God loves my kids more than I do, though, and so when I allow Him to really dig in with me...it's a very good thing. Still chaotic. Still full. Still full of character building moments. But that's OK. He's helping all of us take things in stride and go with the flow and not let the temporary situations control our attitudes and outlook...instead even my kids are starting to truly grasp the eternal significance behind choices and relationships and "stuff," and choosing to not worry about things that don't really matter or reacting poorly to things we can't control. Makes me smile. And makes our time together so much more fulfilling. I couldn't ask for much more! My kids rock.

OK, back to running. Which was supposed to be the purpose of this post, but apparently my fingers have a mind of their own. So...amongst other things, I've started a new training routine in the hopes that it will allow me to have a respectable time for the next race I run...and understanding I have certain training limitations to consider.

My goal in training now is to work with what I've got and to be consistent.

My goal in racing has always been to not fall down, throw up or come in last.

However, after watching this clip, I have a new goal. One that will stick with me forever.

To NOT EVER look like any of these dudes...

Yesterday...

2011-09-19T08:06:00.000-04:00

...a day in which I was humbled and baffled by the impact of sitting in a small room pre-Sunday morning service with fellow sinners doing their best to do this whole "Christ-follower" thing, having a real conversation about real things and coming to no real conclusions except for the fact that we need each other to grow. And that we MUST be real.

...a day in which I am honored to sit in a room with like-minded people post-Sunday morning service, munching on sandwiches, realizing that God has sparked something.  And this something is about to be unleashed - for such a time as this.

...a day in which blessings come in the form of strawberry plant starters from neighbors and fake tooth necklaces for five bucks. Where a wardrobe of used clothing is more than enough and making cootie catchers out of scrap paper is the preferred form of entertainment.

...a day where eavesdropping on a 6 year old and an 8 year old playing Guess Who (which happens to be one of my favorite games) with COMPLETELY wrong rules could not possibly be any funnier.

...a day where I realize that the words "Mom, you're embarrassing me" are a testament to God's faithfulness. Because in that moment, it did not matter what has or hasn't happened in the past few years and who was or wasn't watching in the past few minutes...the "nope, not gonna happen" that I've been working on in response to the attempts to steal my joy was working.  I bopped around publicly and ridiculously to the live music and ate the discarded portions of my children's treats and I didn't care. Because I am fine.  I have my Jesus and my family and my people that He has divinely put into my life and I need nothing more. I am still Becky.  And I still embarrass my kids.

...a day that is over. It will never be re-created. It will never be changed. It is done. Reminders of yesterday will linger. But today is new. New opportunities. New reminders. New battles to be fought. New steps to be taken. New approaches to embarrassing my beloved children.

Yesterday was what it was, and today will be what it will be. And let's not even think about tomorrow...

The more I hang around this temporary earth home, the more I realize just how simple the choice is. I can either open my eyes to what God is doing and run towards it or I can turn my back and pretend I never noticed. Standing still is not an option. Pleading the fifth is unacceptable. And living in the past will only damage me and everyone else that is impacted, whether by choice or chance, by this miraculous in and out function my lungs perform time and time again.

So here's to making today count. To being thankful for the many things there are to be thankful for. To taking delight in the simple elements of what can be a complicated existence.  To understanding that there is typically more to a person, situation and statement than we ever realize.

Here's to creating another "yesterday" that we can look back and see that though imperfect, it mattered. It was good. No regrets.

I Cannot

2011-09-16T21:19:00.001-04:00

I sat there on the floor. Watching it all unfold yet again. This time surrounded by four children instead of one infant. That infant? Now 10 years old. Baffled at the fact that this ever happened. Remembering exactly how I felt watching the news on that September day...because I felt it all over again.

My daughter wiped the tear from my cheek. The tear that shouldn't have to be there. I try to make it go away. I cannot.

And we talked. We talked about what would possess someone to go to such extremes to hurt someone else. Many someone elses. The conversation was good, not pleasant, but good. For people to act in such a way, well, there was something greater at work in them. Someone. And it was not God.

I sat there around my table. Watching the looks on four astonished faces. Wondering what they were thinking. Knowing that it likely wasn't good. We talk that night, and as the days go on, the suspicion is confirmed. One daughter afraid to go to bed and another one afraid to go somewhere else because of the mean person that they heard say mean things and what if they try to do it again and what if they try to say something even worse and what if...

I wipe many tears from my daughters cheeks. Tears that shouldn't have to be there. I try to make them go away. I cannot.

And we talk. We talk about how God is the voice that we listen to. God is the One who will protect us, no matter where we are. Sticking our tongue out at someone that makes bad choices is not what God wants us to do. We need to pray. So we do. The conversation was good, not pleasant, but good. And on a much smaller scale than September 11th, they see the difference between God and not-God. And they choose God.

They inspire me to do the same.

I struggle sometimes. I struggle with the concept that if I believe God is at work, I must believe that there is also an adversary. Who hates us. Who wants to destroy. One who wants to destroy the lives and peace-of-mind of thousands upon thousands on the national news. One who wants to destroy the feeling of safety of one or two or three or four little children behind closed doors. One that will plan out their operation in a way that pays no attention to innocence or age or venue. One that will use whatever and whomever he can get his stinkin' hands on to carry out this operation.

It ticks me off.

It ticks me off big.

It ticks me off that there are people who feel that monetary profit warrants selling children into slavery.
It ticks me off that there are people who feel that improving their own reputation warrants lies to destroy others.
It ticks me off that there are people who feel that those with disabilities don't deserve a chance at life.
It ticks me off that power hungry people can use their positions to control entire people groups or nations and make their lives a living hell.

It ticks me off that there is an enemy.

I mean, come on, who wants to admit there is an enemy? It's weird and uncomfortable and spooky.

The Psalms talks about enemies all over the place. I have to admit, there was a season of my life in which I would gladly and with great ease do the "insert name here" thing when I read those passages. And I may slip every once in awhile and still do that. Followed very quickly (perhaps begrudgingly) with a confession and prayer for the name I inserted, because the last thing I want to do is to be judged for trying to be the judge. That's not good. Not. At. All. Bottom line is this: the enemy is not man. Or woman. Or terrorist group or slave ring or corrupt government or law maker or random meanie face that shows up out of the blue.

If the true enemy was a human, and the true target was a human, then there would be no guarantee that the bad guy would ever be defeated.

The true enemy is satan. The true target is God and His Kingdom. And there is approximately 17.4 trillion guarantees that the bad guy will be defeated. Give or take. God will defeat satan.

I think that sometimes God gives us permission to fight back. To stand up for the least of these. To defend the weak and innocent. And I think that sometimes he asks others to do it for us when we fall into one of those categories.

When we let Him fight our battles on the real level on which they are created, we are guaranteed a tally mark in the "win" column.

Our most powerful weapons are repentance. Brokenness. Humility. Love. Surrender. Less of us and more of Him.

Can I explain away September 11th to my kids? I cannot.
Can I explain away random acts of meanness to my kids? I cannot.
Can I explain away abuse and slavery and persecution and injustice and intimidation and hate? I cannot.
Can I explain in no uncertain terms that bad stuff will never ever happen? I cannot.

Can I let God both define and conquer the enemy? Tuck in the precious little lives He has blessed me with? Issue one last kiss and a final wiping of the tears and an assurance that God is always with them?

I can. And I will. Not always perfectly. But I will give it my best. The more I believe it to be true in my own life, the more I can help them to believe it is true in theirs.

And it is true. Hands down. No holding back. I would stake my life on it.

God wins.

Satan doesn't.

And I cannot afford to forget that.

I cannot.

Don't Pray for Me, Part 2

2011-09-14T09:00:00.000-04:00

Some of you prayed for me yesterday. You rascals. :)

God is faithful. He did the Ephesians 3:20 thing:

"...far more abundantly than all that we ask or think..."

He even sent a very specific type of bird to fly around the perimeter of my property for about 10 minutes to remind some of us that had gathered to pray in my living room of His presence. Of His control. Of His attention to detail. Of His sense of humor.

Of His God-ness.

I know it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Him.

And I know that it is evidence of the power of prayer.

The power of the cross.

The power of His holiness and perfection.

Grace.

Though we don't know all the details of His master plan, we are reminded yet again of His many promises in Scripture. It humbles me. It excites me. It keeps me centered.

So even though you didn't know what you were praying for (other than not me) thank you for being a part of the bigger picture in my life and the lives of those around me. I love the way prayer works. The way that people can be led to pray and not know why. The way that people can be led to pray...know why, but not know what about. This whole unity/community through prayer thing is nuts, I tell ya. Nuts.

And someday, I can't wait to tell you the rest of the story.

Frankly, I can't wait to know the rest of the story myself. :)

When you are tempted to doubt His ways...don't. Don't do it. Don't give in. Satan wants nothing more than to paralyze us with fear and throw us off track with deception and doubt. Don't let him. It sounds so trite. So cliche. I get that. And at many points in my life I probably would have rolled my eyes and used my best California girl accent to deliver a very loud "whatever" right in the face of whomever said such things. I might have even accompanied with a finger snap. But I'm telling ya...God is God. We are not. And even though it is sometimes scary and uncertain and uncomfortable...He has your best interest at heart. He has the best interest for those around you at heart. He really does.

And He is faithful.

Seriously.

I bless God every chance I get; my lungs expand with his praise.
I live and breathe God; if things aren't going well, hear this and be happy:

Join me in spreading the news; together let's get the word out.

God met me more than halfway, he freed me from my anxious fears.

Look at him; give him your warmest smile. Never hide your feelings from him.

When I was desperate, I called out, and God got me out of a tight spot.

God's angel sets up a circle of protection around us while we pray.

Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see - how good God is.
Blessed are you who run to him.

Worship God if you want the best;
worship opens doors to all his goodness.
Young lions on the prowl get hungry, but God-seekers are full of God.

Come, children, listen closely; I'll give you a lesson in God worship.

Who out there has a lust for life?
Can't wait each day to come upon beauty?

Guard your tongue from profanity, and no more lying through your teeth.

Turn your back on sin; do something good.
Embrace peace—don't let it get away!

God keeps an eye on his friends, his ears pick up every moan and groan.

God won't put up with rebels; he'll cull them from the pack.

Is anyone crying for help? God is listening, ready to rescue you.

If your heart is broken, you'll find God right there;
if you're kicked in the gut, he'll help you catch your breath.

Disciples so often get into trouble; still, God is there every time.

He's your bodyguard, shielding every bone; not even a finger gets broken.

The wicked commit slow suicide; they waste their lives hating the good.
God pays for each slave's freedom; no one who runs to him loses out.

Psalm 34, The Message

Don't Pray for Me

2011-09-13T06:41:00.000-04:00

Alarm clock: epic fail.

And by this I mean that I woke up far earlier than I wanted to this morning.

So I prayed for my day. I prayed for a friend that is sick. I prayed about a plethora of other things.

I thought about coffee. But I still haven't made any yet. Which is odd.

And then I realized that though I don't do this often, I needed to involve you all in my day. I needed to ask you something.

It's come to my attention that though there are many random passersby on my blog, strangers that are searching for coffee terms or song titles on google or others that are simply "curious," there are many of you that love me. Pray for me. Care about me. Inspire me. And to you, I write this post.

Like all of us, there are different parts of our journeys that we look back on and say "Whoa...that was significant." And I would have to say that as I look back on the past several weeks of my own journey, I've found myself saying that alot. God has been doing some crazily awesome and unpredictable things in His effort to keep me where He wants me to be. Some really good things. Some surprising things. Some things I did not prefer. But nonetheless, He is God and I am not.

If you enjoy praying for me, don't do it today. Yes, that's what I meant to say. I don't what this to be about me, so don't pray for me...pray for the journey that I am on, and the significance that God has in store for all those impacted. I know, I know. If I were reading these words on someone else's blog I would likely feel slightly annoyed at the mystery and lack of detail and secretly shun the author for awhile. But you guys are better than me.  I guess I'm just realizing that as we look at our lives through the big picture lenses that there is often greater significance behind events and conversations than we realize. And it's at those moments that I am tempted to simple say "Um...I'm in over my head. Becky out." Which on some levels is OK, because it really shouldn't be all about me anyway. So honestly, if you pray today, don't pray for me.  Pray that God's will would be carried out in this part of the hemisphere...including the little ole part that my journey is involved in as it continues to unfold at a God-determined speed...and today in particular.

P.S. Anyone want to write a follow-up song for Michael W. Smith?  "Don't Pray for Me, and I Won't Pray for You." Hmmmm...maybe not.

P.P.S.  If you really feel led to pray specifically for me, I'm obviously cool with it. I need all the help I can get. Let's not forget that. :)

I Can Relate to This...

2011-09-12T09:56:00.000-04:00

...coffee cup.

(I don't want to lead anyone astray here...my kids are truly champs each and every morning as we get all four of them to school and balance extra kiddos on some mornings, too. They are pretty stellar, and this morning was a really good morning. But, if you've read my blog for more than one week or so, you know how coffee and I work together. So there ya go.)

...struggle that author Kyle Idleman point out in his book "Not a Fan." It's all about being a follower of Jesus rather than just a fan and the messed up thinking that so many of us have about the difference between the two.  It's got me thinking. Repenting. And determined. And though I'm a horrific book reviewer, I will likely talk about it in the future. It's a must read.

...post by Anne Jackson..."Go With Your Gut or Else..." Yep. I hear ya.

...song by Shane and Shane. Embracing Accusation. It's kind of eerie, honestly. But it's true. If satan is the father of lies, that means he's pretty doggone good at lying. And what makes a lie more damaging than throwing a bit of truth into it just to really make things confusing? I can relate because just like everybody else on this planet, satan is right about me. I'm not good enough. Wise enough. Perfect enough. Strong enough. Patient enough. I'm not. And I'm certainly not worth much of anything on my own. Left to myself, I'm a disaster. And I'm cursed. Satan forgets the second part though...He who knew no sin became sin so that I wouldn't have to rely on my own "enoughs." He took the curse and dissolved it in one single action (Galatians 3:10-14) Dying on a cross. Bleeding and suffering.  When I approach the situation with a repentant heart, I am covered under the blood that He sacrificed. If I even dare remove anything out from that blood of forgiveness and grace (in my life or anyone else's), I am in sin. I am wrong.   So though satan may be correct when he tells us we're cursed and unworthy, he forgets about the whole Jesus part. The part that makes it possible for me to be so unworthy and screwed up, yet so loved and accepted and even valuable. Not sure that I can honestly say I'm a pro at embracing accusations...but this particular one that satan tries to get me to accept, well, knowing the end of the story I can handle it (you can click here to hear the story behind the song in the words of the man that wrote it).

I have no witty or insightful way to end this post. Just isn't going to happen. Maybe on a non-Monday. Or for a post that possess a train of thought that is easily followed by someone other than me and maybe my mom.  But that is not today. And it is not this post.  So that's all I got.

The end.

The Eyes Through Which We See

2011-09-08T09:17:00.000-04:00

It was a very normal kindergarten physical, as normal as anything can be when my youngest is involved. She was doing all those check-up things things that adults find routine and kids find intriguing. Reflexes. Weight. Height. Blood Pressure. Then out came the eye chart. The shape variety, not the letters, because that's how the doctor's roll with a five year old.

Star. Circle. Coffee chop. Square. And then she paused. We all stared at the next symbol.

Brooklyn loudly (because she has one volume setting, and that is loud) proclaims: "A cross!!!!"

I smiled on the inside. The nurse smiled on the outside.

"What?" Brooklyn asks, with a quirky little grin on her face. "It's a cross like on Jesus died."

She didn't say it, but I know she was thinking it. "DUH!"

She continues through the shapes. I ponder.

The eyes through which she sees has been impacted by her upbringing. Though simple, it caused her to look at that shape through the eyes of the powerful reality of Jesus' death. And that caused me to give thanks.

My son went up to his room yesterday.  The painting supplies had been cleaned off and put away hours prior. The walls were dry. I discreetly followed him up the stairs.  His legs took him all the way around the room. His arms caressing each wall as if it was a fine antique...tenderly, with respect. His eyes widened.

"Mom, I have a new room! I don't have to look at the old room anymore. I don't do that anymore."

I smiled, knowing that the "that" to which he referred was the throwing of furniture and punching of walls when his anger and hurt and fear was too much for him to bear. The old Hudson. God has done a new thing in his life. Nothing short of a miracle, with the Miracle Giver choosing to use a number of different contributing factors.

The eyes through which he sees have grown, turning him into one who recognizes that his past is his past. A part of who he is and the difference he will make in this world, yes. But it's done. Over. The end. And he will never take those freshly painted walls for granted.

I received a phone call yesterday. From a person whom I have always held in the highest esteem, well, since the time I sat under his leadership in college anyway. Why? Because He knows God. I mean he REALLY knows God. You can tell. You knows that the words that come out of his mouth are directed by the Holy Spirit. He knows things he wouldn't otherwise know. He proclaims truth with boldness that others would timidly shy away from. I trust him, because 1) He lives it out, 2) he is always right when he speaks prophetically into situations and 3) he's amazingly humble. He's knows all about my journey. Every little messy detail.  It scared me to death to tell him on some levels. But it has been one of the best things I could have ever done. The affirmation and perspective I have received from him, though he refuses to take credit for any of it, has always shown up at the perfect moment in time. His words tend to take me by surprise, because he just doesn't care about being PC. He concerns himself with truth. People. Eternity.  There is no doubt that he sees through the eyes of Jesus. He's just the kind of guy that you know you had better listen to if he speaks into your life.

God caused our paths to unexpectedly cross this past summer. There, in the midst of dozens of people and children and chaos...he spoke something into my life that I will never forget. At the time, he didn't even know all that I was going through.  Yesterday, this time utilizing the technology of the telephone and working through slightly less chaos, he spoke more than one somethings into my life that I will never forget. This time knowing all about what I was going through. He looked at my life, and my situation, and my day...and he addressed it through the eyes of Jesus. The conversation was long. It was emotional. It was one of the most affirming ones I have ever had. Towards the end he said to me "Beck, I see some things that you can't right now." And he went on to tell me what. I firmly believe that God was using him to give me clarity, direction, healing and hope. It's the kind of experience that gives you goosebumps the size of Arkansas, even in the summertime. The kind of experience that is permeated with God's lavish love and care and concern and truth.

Our upbringing shapes our vision. Our experiences shape our vision. Our training or education or God-given insight. So does our willingness to embrace truth and allow the Holy Spirit to work in our lives.  Our choice to look beyond the surface and dig deeper is obviously a big part. But hopefully our vision is shaped first and foremost by something else: looking through the eyes of Christ rather than our own. Hopefully His eyes are our auto-pilot. Hopefully His eyes are the eyes through which we see.

Hopefully we can look at any given situation and choose to ask how it fits into the bigger picture. The eternity picture.

Hopefully we can look at verses like James 4:6 ("God opposes the proud but favors the humble") and choose to assess what kind of eyes we are looking through. Proud eyes? Falsely humble eyes? Truly humble eyes?

Hopefully we can look at our sin and see it the way God does. If it's unconfessed

Hopefully we can look at the simple things, as my children tend to do, and look at them through the eyes of someone who takes nothing for granted, and is reminded of Jesus everywhere they go.

Hopefully we can look at our lives and see ourselves the way Jesus does...imperfect, yes. Capable of hurting Him and others. People who will never measure up no matter how many checklists we work through, tasks we complete, words we offer or attempts at proving to others just how awesome we are we try.

We are in desperate need of a Savior.
We are worth the very death of God's Son.
We are cherished.

The eyes through which He sees are perfect, holy, eternal and full of grace and mercy. They are truth...the ultimate x-ray able to see to the deepest depths and able to cut through the hardest and thickest stone wall. He uses Scripture to help us understand this 20/20 vision of His. And, I believe, He uses Spirit filled people to help us as well.

The way I read 2 Corinthians 5:14-17, He promises us this: If we choose His eyes rather than relying on our own, He will reveal Himself. He will teach us how to look at ourselves and others through His eyes. And then He will reveal His plan...in the proper doses at the proper time. That's where patience and trust comes into play...and believe you me I do NOT have that all figured out.

Frankly, I'm sure there have been plenty of times that I've looked at the "+" symbol and have seen just that.   A plus sign. Not a cross. Not a reminder of Jesus. And frankly, I know that God, in His perfect way, gives me what and who I need to open my eyes a little further. To change the eyes through which I see.

And I'm thankful that He does.

Christ Wins

2011-09-06T06:49:00.001-04:00

It's short. And the words in quotes are not my own. But when you awaken so early that even the sound of the coffee brewing is one that you'd rather not hear...with the air crisp and God's peace heavy, it can be the most simplest of phrases that mean the most. And though I have several things brewing in my head about God's goodness and the craziness that humbles me as I look around and see Him doing His thing, this is what pierces. This truth from Ann Voskamp's blog A Holy Experience.

Yes, days are unpredictable. I cannot control them.

But the Lord reaches out and grabs my heart with a grip that I will never allow to lessen or loosen. One that despite my past failures and hurts is tighter than ever before. Squeezing me, uncomfortably so at times, yet with benefits beyond comprehension.

And for this I am grateful.

I love abiding in His firm yet gentle hand.

And because of this I am not afraid to proclaim it...no matter what surrounds me. No matter how unworthy I may be. No apologies.

The battle is not against flesh and blood.

And Christ wins.

"But I keep turning back to this, me on an axis of my own: Christ wins.

Roads can twist and what untwists me is just that: Christ wins.

I can fall and all hope can fall and the day can skin it’s shins hard and this is a startling fallen world — but what can trip peace when I know Christ wins?

This doesn’t mean I’m negligent and don’t commit – it just means I already know Who conquerors.

It means I know that the ultimate truth is, that no matter what is ultimately the problem, Christ ultimately wins.

It means I can risk and I can hold on and let go and I can say yes to God — Christ wins. All is grace because all can transfigure.

Christ wastes nothing and He repurposes pain for His purposes and He’ll use up all of creation for His glory."

2011-09-04T06:55:00.000-04:00

This video shakes me up a bit.

It awakens me.

It reminds me.

God's been opening my eyes to lots of more. Sometimes more is uncomfortable. Maybe even scary. When you start moving past the surface nice and neat stuff and into the more behind it all, it's not for the faint of heart.

But not this kind of more. It's not scary at all. This kind of more is beautiful.

Nick V is a normal ole guy that loves Jesus with everything. Sure, he doesn't have any arms or legs...but he has the same struggles, doubts and temptations as the rest of us. When you're in the room with him, however, you can't help but catch on to this more....this hope he has through Jesus Christ.

I hope you're reminded today...of whatever more you need to be reminded of.

He Never Fails

2011-09-01T15:10:00.000-04:00

The stones in the wall said, "we have come from mountains far away - from the sides of rugged cliffs. Fire and water have worked on us for ages but have only produced crevices. Yet human hands like yours have made us into homes where children of your immortal race are born, suffer, rejoice, find rest and shelter, and learn the lessons that our Maker and yours is teaching. But to come to the point of being used for this purpose, we have endured much. Dynamite has torn at our very heart, and pickaxes have broken and split us into pieces. Often as we lay disfigured and broken in the quarry, everything seemed to be without design or meaning. But gradually, we were cut into blocks, and some of us were chiseled with sharper instruments until we had a fine edge. Now we are complete, are in our proper places, and are of service.

"You, however, are still in your quarry. You are not complete, and because of that, as once was the case with us, there is much you do not understand. But you are destined for a higher building, and someday you will be placed in it by angelic hands, becoming a living stone in a heavenly temple."

Taken from Streams in the Desert, L.B Cowman

Afflicted city, storm-battered, unpitied:
I'm about to rebuild you with stones of turquoise,
Lay your foundations with sapphires,
construct your towers with rubies,
Your gates with jewels,
and all your walls with precious stones.
All your children will have God for their teacher—
what a mentor for your children!
You'll be built solid, grounded in righteousness,
far from any trouble—nothing to fear!
far from terror—it won't even come close!
If anyone attacks you,
don't for a moment suppose that I sent them,
And if any should attack, nothing will come of it.
I create the blacksmith who fires up his forge
and makes a weapon designed to kill.
I also create the destroyer—
but no weapon that can hurt you has ever been forged.
Any accuser who takes you to court
will be dismissed as a liar.
This is what God's servants can expect.
I'll see to it that everything works out for the best."
God's Decree.

Isaiah 54:11, The Message

We all remain in our quarry, do we not? Waiting to see exactly what we will become? Wondering just what it will look like when we are complete, in our proper places and of service? All that we weather now has the potential to take us out of that quarry. Useful. Beautiful. Full of purpose and impact. The sharp instruments may hurt. The dynamite may startle and scatter. But the Creator is the Master of all tools He uses.

And if the deceiver makes an attempt to use those tools for destruction rather than beauty-creation, he will be stopped.

Satan will lose every time.

God will win.

But we must trust Him.

Simply choose to be willing to endure. Not like it. Not love it. Just choose it.

Disfigurement and brokenness is required to make beauty. Ironic, yes?

It's that upside-down way of thinking.

The One whom we serve is actually serving us...shaping us...forming us, and yes, rescuing us.

There is much we do not understand. True.

But there is One whom I do understand.

And He never fails.

My Opinion on a Few Life Changing Things

2011-08-31T07:18:00.001-04:00

People that reply to mass messages sent out on Facebook often cause me great confusion, as I often do not know who they are and it makes me feel like my account has been hacked.

People that reply to the people that reply to mass messages on Facebook often cause me great joy, as I often laugh hysterically at the fact that I am not the only one confused...I'm just smart enough to not let on to everyone else just how confused I am.

Peanut Butter Snicker Squares should be illegal in the continental US. Maybe just in the Midwest. At least in my kitchen.

Coffee is best served when left in the cup, as opposed to on the floor with a bit of a splash on the wall for good measure...oh and maybe all over that notebook, too. Happens to the best of us.

Getting my hair done in the evening is always such a bummer. It looks so awesome when my hairdresser is done with it...and then I go home and sleep. Ah...the crazy life of a middle-aged mama.

And by now you may have realized that I fibbed a little in the title. It won't happen again. Today at least. But in all seriuosness...here's something that really is worth your time.  It was worth mine, anway...

When God says to step into the next __________, do it. If He says it's time, it's time. Whatever that "next" may be, if He says move, ya best be gettin' your precious bum off the couch and start movin'. Heavenly Father knows best. It might be the next step toward a goal, a calling, a relationship, a process, taking a stand for or against something...who really knows? Well, I'll tell you...God does. If you have put yourself in a place to hear Him, and He says something, you better do it.

I knew this week would be significant based on the number of appliances that have gone out. Satan gets mad at me when I continue to move towards the Lord...and though I'm still working on that, trusting God to truly be the Author and Perfector of my faith, there are times that I think it is OK to admit that I've succeeded in stepping into the next _______ in my life. As long as I make sure that we are all reminded that it's God working in me that makes that possible.  So, consider yourself reminded. Anyway, satan tried to discourage me by wiping out a few key appliances. (Funny thing is, it actually gave me more time to spend with the Lord, so the joke's on him anyway).

I do realize it's only Wednesday...and I do realize that means there are still several days left to see why satan is mad at me...but I also realize that God has shown up in incredibly unexpected and super powerful ways. Not because I deserve it. Not because I'm perfect. And not because the other people involved in these divine appointments are perfect either. Just because God said it was time to reveal a little more of the very large picture of His plan to a few of us.

So we took a step of obedience.  Not actually realizing what God was doing in the other hearts involved. Following His lead as to what that looked like. Allowing Him to make it happen.

And it was awesome.

I can't imagine what's around the corner. Well, obviously coffee (duh!)...but other than that, I can't imagine.

So, my opinion that just may matter in the grand scheme of things...if you hear from God, listen.  Let Him confirm it if there is any uncertainty it was Him. And then obey. Be willing to step into the next phase of the plan He has orchestrated for you..."for such a time as this." And then prepare to be flabbergasted (I adore that word) in a very GOOD way.

But it's going to be a step of faith, you say? Sweet. All the more room to grow and lean and learn. Trust me...you'll be glad you did.  It truly could change not only your life, but the lives of those around you currently and those who will be around you in the future.

We can always trust the Voice of Truth...God, that is. He will never lead you down the wrong path. Whether He is telling you to head towards the next phase now, or to wait a little while for reasons that only He knows. Regardless of man's approval or understanding, He's got your back.

True story.

I Am Soooo Not Ready For This

2011-08-29T13:45:00.000-04:00

Luckily, I already have a really good therapist just a few towns over, because if this in any sign, I'm really going to need one in the future...

Brooklyn: Mom, can I use your phone to call my boyfriend?

Me: WHAT?!?!

B: Mom, you know I have a boyfriend. I am 18 years old.

M: Oh, right. Ahem. Yes, you may use this pretend phone and call your pretend boyfriend.

B: Thank you, Mom!

M: Sigh.

B (into phone): Hi, boyfriend? Yes. It's me. Really? Awesome. I don't know. I'll ask.

B: (to me): Um mom, can I go to the prom? Please say yes please say yes PLEASE SAY YES! You never say yes please say yes you always say no please say yes.

M: The prom. With your boyfriend. Does he treat you like a princess?

B: Moooooommmmmmmmm. Of course.

M: Does he love Jesus?

B: Yes.

M: You can go.

B: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!

M: Sigh.

Camryn: WHAT? She always gets to go to the prom1 No fair!!!!

Me: Oh. My. Stars. You have got to be kidding me.

B: Sorry, Camryn. Maybe someday you can go to the prom. But my boyfriend asked me.

C: I want him to ask me.

M: Double sigh.

Five minutes of silence...

B: Mom, I'm getting married.

M: Oh no you're not.

B: My boyfriend asked me. And I'm 19 now.

M: You can't get married until you're 40.

B: WHAT?!?! Ugh. How about 30?

M: Deal.

B: YEAH!!! I get to get married when I'm 30.

C: No fair! I want to get married when I'm 30.

M: Sigh infinity.

I am soooo not ready for this.

How He Loves Us

2011-08-27T21:36:00.000-04:00

I have friends mourning the death of a parent.

I have friends facing a nastily aggressive form of cancer...which is actually just the tip of the iceberg of all that's going on.

I have friends maneuvering major illnesses of their children. Their own flesh and blood.

I have friends working through stuff...stuff that really, really hurts. Stuff that is not of God. Stuff that is downright despicable, completely undeserved and just not fair. Not a death or an illness, but an affliction all it's own.

I have conversations with my daughter that lead quite naturally into deeper conversations about all that becoming a lady stuff and that man/woman stuff...and I'm terrified. Terrified because with all of my heart I want her to avoid all the hurt that I've walked through myself. And I cannot protect her the way I wish I could. I can only affirm and encourage and teach and prepare her. And trust God. But somehow, when I allow myself to remember the hurt that I've hidden for years and years, it's hard to do that. Ya know?

Hurricanes flipping people's lives upside down.

Sex trafficking stealing the joy from innocent little princesses.

It's hard to feel that hurt, too.

And I feel all bent over and awkward and weak. My body may not reflect it, but I feel it. Do I ever.

So I sit on the hard floor and I sip my umpteenth cup of coffee at 4 in the afternoon because it's just been one of those days and I allow the tears to fall. And I actually allow my kids to see them. Which is not usually the case.

They hold my hand. They wipe salty drops of moisture off my cheeks with the precision and compassion that only a child can offer. And we all find ourselves still, listening to the words of the song that is suddenly and gently caressing our ears...piercing our very souls...

When all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory.

And I realize just how beautiful You are and how great Your affections are for me.

I try to utter something profound about how I want them to agree to NEVER forget how much the Lord adores them and how they are His beloved and that they should never allow anyone to tell them otherwise or let themselves be treated in a fashion beneath that of being of Royalty...

We are His portion and He is our prize, drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes...

But it's a mess of incoherent blubbering, I am certain of it. And I stop the attempts to somehow say the right thing.

If grace is an ocean we're all sinking...

I sit and breathe.

So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest.

And it does.

I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way He loves me.

And I don't.

For the more time I spend focusing on the regrets or the afflictions or the specific spot in your heart that aches when you have no choice to admit that not all people are full of love for their fellow human beings...the closer satan gets to experiencing victory in that particular battle.

My therapist says it's good to process those things. But...

He is jealous for me.

...my Lord says it's even better to hand them over to Him.

Love like a hurricane, I am a tree bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

He yearns for me to bend because of His tangible presence, not because of my burden. The burden that is much more suited for Him.

He loves us.

Tonight, God is uttering something profound...and He wants us to agree to NEVER forget how much He adores us.

Oh, how He loves us.

His words, unlike mine, are not an incoherent mess of blubbering. And, unlike mine, they are not triggered by hurt experienced and/or hurt observed. They are words spoken as only the Creator can speak.

And though I risk my audience of readers corporately deciding that I have lost my marbles and need to drink less coffee before I sit down and write evenings blog posts...He's OK with raw. He knows that authentic is what will cause people to connect, and when we connect we relate, and when we relate we heal, and when we heal we can inspire. As long as we hold firm to His truths.

For God so loved the world...

This crazy, messed up, hurting and hurtful world...

For God so loved all the people that have every right to throw their hands in the air and shout "IT'S JUST NOT FAIR! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE THEM STOP!"

For God so loved me. And you.

How He loves us.

Will you agree to never forget that?

And if you are feeling the physical or emotional affliction, or even if you're the one causing it, know this: It is eclipsed by glory. It is temporary. It will not be victorious. God will be the ONE standing at the end of it all. So hold on to Him, and He will anchor you.

2 Corinthians 4:16-18 "That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever."

(Song lyrics from How He Loves, Kim Walker

Random is Such an Overused Word

2011-08-26T07:52:00.000-04:00

Yet it pretty much sums up what I'm about to clog your brain with...

I'm not so sure about the "your status on this day in 2009" whatchamacalit on Facebook. It kinda weirds me out. That's a lie. It REALLY weirds me out.

I'm thinking that it's OK to admit I'm a fair weather fan of Twitter. However, I'm also thinking that since I've been rather non-committal about frequenting the thing, I've missed out on some good morsels of wisdom and plain ole funny-ness. So, I'm back. But no promises how long BeckBranch will last.

My kids must have been told to get out all their naughty yesterday in light of the fact that I'm cashing in a gift card for a hot stone massage today. That way they could blame their behavior on wanting to make sure I get the most out of my money...or that the giver of the gift card got the most out of their money. God bless the creator of the hot stone massage... God forgive my children for feeling like they needed to make the before and after comparison so intense.

I injured a few toes in mid-March. It was rather obvious that I would lose at least 3 toenails. It made me sad, as I figured it would interfere with flip flop season and my obsession with having pretty toenails. However, it is now the end of August. And I just lost my first nail yesterday. My kids compared it to having a loose tooth. They would often ask me how "wiggly" my nail was. Disgusting. They also started fighting over who would get to keep the nail once it fell off. Disgusting times 10. And I have two more to go...which is just dandy. Luckily I made it through flip flop season without grossing anyone out. Which is all that really matters.

It's been awhile since I've had a bag of Sumatra coffee in my cupboard. Ridiculous. This tragedy has been remedied by a wonderfully graciuos soul. And I'm quite sure the bag in there now will not last long at all. It's awesome. So. Stinking. Awesome.

Turquoise nail polish is also awesome.

So is Paula Deen's Peach Cobbler.

And coffee with friends. Even if it isn't Sumatra...

I gave my 10 year old daughter her first voice lesson last night. She's been begging and begging, and so I agreed to give her a few mini lessons solely to prep her for an up-coming audition. I know she's my daughter and all...but holy voice like an angel Batman...she is goo-oo-ood. A real natural. And I'm so proud and grateful when I hear her say to me "Boy, Mom, I wonder how God is going to use my voice to make a difference." She's too cool.

Now if you'll excuse me...I've got some relaxing to do.

Ta-ta.

11 Things (plus 5) that Make Me Hungry for Cheese

2011-08-25T07:07:00.001-04:00

I think that post title may be even to "cheesy" for me. Ha ha groan. But in all honesty, my brain is tired. Keeping up with school and schedules and figuring life out along with all the stuff God is doing in my world - while trying to balance that with all the things that are obviously out of my control and I need not give the time of day to - yeah. You know how it goes. I'm not alone. And this tightrope, though I'm privileged and excited to walk it, has drained me of quite a few of my words, except the ones necessary to explain to you how absolutely addicted I am to blueberry juice infused Craisins. So, since I promised long ago that I would at some point share some of the most recent family pics, and I don't want to post all 90-ish of them, I will try to limit myself to 11(plus 5) of those "say cheese" moments to blame for my mozzarella cravings, very few words and go back to my Craisins. And probably make another pot of Sumatra. God bless the stuff.

Thanks for my new cousin-in-law for taking the pics. She's a keeper. Check out her blog or her website if you're in the Mishawaka area and need a photographer.

The fam...

And the kids.

Sassy...

Smiley...

Studly...

And stunning.

The girls...

The little man...

The never forgotten angel.

Upside down...

Or in the air.

Back to back...

Heart to heart...

And side by side...

From head...

To toe.

I am one blessed woman.

The Choice

2011-08-24T14:43:00.001-04:00

It didn't dawn on me until a good friend of mine pointed it out. Which I think is actually a good sign. To me, it means I'm not focusing and living on the whole "it's been ____ months since ____ happened" thing. But since my friend brought it up, I gladly contemplated The Choice.

It's been a year since a particular choice was made. A choice that wasn't easy. A choice that wasn't mine to control. A choice that I didn't predict looking the way it did. Yet it was a choice that didn't take me long at all to see it was the absolute over the top best one possible.

It's a choice that had the potential for God to do a lot of good with if He was allowed to thoroughly work in it. While I can't honestly speak to how/if/in what way it panned out for anyone else...I personally thank God every day for the rescuing and protecting He did in my life through that choice. For the way that He put me in a position to finally understand just how precious I am in His eyes. Though life isn't always a bed of roses, I see how much more painful and more hurtful and just "not right" life would be if the choice hadn't been made.

There have been many choices between then and now that He has used to make my relationship with Him way more genuine, my life way way more fulfilled and my understanding of who I am way more Biblically accurate.

I'm grateful that God values me enough to see to it that such choices are made.

Grateful and humbled and excited all at once.

As I continue to bathe in His wisdom, rest in His peace and rely on His faithfulness, He continues to orchestrate choices in a way that fulfills His best for me and for my family.

That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good.

Romans 8:28, The Message

Why do I share this with you? The same reason I share a lot of things with you. Because Psalm 96:3 told me to.

"Publish his glorious deeds among the nations.
Tell everyone about the amazing things he does."

What God has done in my life is amazing. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Him. And It cannot be stopped by anyone, regardless of how much influence or power they think they have. Even I couldn't stop His plans to complete the work He has begun in me (Phil. 1:6 And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns).

He didn't begin the work a year ago. He began it on the day when I gave my life to Him...as a five year old cutie pie nestled in her bed in the Great White North. And despite my choices and the choices of others which could have seemingly halted anything God was wanting to do...He will not be stopped. I cling to and claim that promise with great expectation.

The same holds true for each and every one of us. God will continue HIS work. Things will be worked into something good when we live a life of love towards HIM.

The Choice and the events leading up to it certainly play a part in my story from here on out. But it doesn't define me. And it certainly doesn't limit me. It actually does the opposite. It ended up being one of the best gifts I could ever ask for. A perfect example of God's compassionate care for His lambs.

Christmas Eve in August

2011-08-22T21:15:00.000-04:00

Before you start judging me...yes, I know that the typical summer/Santa correlation is Christmas in July. And no, this is not another post about the absurdly meaningful nightly tradition of singing Silent Night to my daughter...but if you would like to refresh your memory on that one, feel free to click here.

This post is not about shopping or singing.

It's about anticipating.

As in the "little kid on Christmas Eve" anticipating.

There have been seasons of my life in which the only thing I anticipated each night was a difficult time sleeping and a string of struggles the next day. And while I still have the occasional bad night and my fair share of imperfect days...I don't see that on the radar for tonight. Or tomorrow.

But I don't know why.

For the past week or so, I've noticed a weird stomachy thing that I couldn't pinpoint. Like little butterflies, but not the typical kind. Honestly, it started making me nervous.

I don't know for certain of any open doors, closed doors, new doors or already passed up doors coming down the path. I don't know of any amazing opportunities or life altering events.

But these dang Christmas Eve Butterflies...they will not. Go. Away.

I prayed about it the other day. It wasn't a real spiritual prayer...more like a "Lord, what the heck is going on?" kind of prayer. I'm pretty sure I heard Him chuckle. "Like I'm going to tell you, Beck." More chuckling. Sigh.

I've had feelings of anticipation regarding specific situations before...sometimes good, sometimes bad. But this is different. I have no clue what door I may or may not be approaching, where it will lead and whether it will be the wide open variety or an "in your face" slammed shut variety (and for the record...I'm a firm believer that God is behind the closed doors just as much, if not more, as the open doors).

Yet somewhere between the "what the heck" and the chuckling, I'm getting a clue.

It's called hope.

Wikipedia puts it like this: Hope is the emotional state which promotes the belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life.

Well, I suppose that's cool.

But I like this explanation better: Hope is the confident expectation, the sure certainty that what God has promised in the Word is true, has occurred, and or will in accordance with God’s sure Word.

God has more to say to me these days about hope that isn't limited to events and circumstances in my life and those craved "positive outcomes."

In fact He whispered something like this: "Rebekah...I have plenty in store for you to have hope about. Good stuff. Stuff that will indeed show You that my Word is true. But I really want you to grasp the hope that you can have day in and day out when you think about the TRUE hope that awaits you...that's what I want you to see."

What a God we have! And how fortunate we are to have him, this Father of our Master Jesus! Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we've been given a brand-new life and have everything to live for, including a future in heaven—and the future starts now! God is keeping careful watch over us and the future. The Day is coming when you'll have it all—life healed and whole.

I know how great this makes you feel, even though you have to put up with every kind of aggravation in the meantime. Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it's your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of his victory.

I Peter 1:3-7, The Message

Well when you put it that way, Lord...

And I sat there, post-whisper, realizing that if I could get my hopes up about some circumstantial good thing coming down the line...why don't I get way more excited way more often about the hope and the joy and the promise of an eternity spent with Jesus?

And who I have shared this with lately that wouldn't otherwise know?

Insert awkward silence here.

While I do have good reason to believe that there is great validity to pondering these anticipatory butterflies I've been having lately, I also have good reason to believe that the only reason they amount to anything at all is because they tie into the reason for TRUE hope, as so delicately pointed out in the above scripture.

What will the week of August 22, 2011 have in store for me? I do not know. Though I do believe there is something. But if I don't make a choice right now to make it more about the hope of eternity versus the hope of a Christmas Eve feeling in August, I will miss it. And I do not want to do that.

Wikipedia gave it a good honest try, but regardless of what events and circumstances and "positive outcomes" are in store for you or me or anyone else out there...there is much greater hope in Jesus Christ. Hope that is beyond earthly opportunities, butterflies or Christmas Eve anticipation.

"I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

The Wow Factor

2011-08-20T12:16:00.002-04:00

My best friend from high school is facing some crazy stuff right now. Her older sister is suddenly facing something that could possibly take her life within the year. It's intense...and genetic. So my best friend and her younger sister are now going in for testing. How I loathe the fact that I do not live closer to her. I just wish I could sit and cry and pray with all of them. Yet I am wowed by the fact that my dad "happened" to be traveling up north within hours of the hospital. And his schedule just "happened" to allow him to go visit them not once, but twice. Praying. Delivering Bibles and books. Just allowing God to use him in their lives.

I firmly believe that his willingness to go and be and do is going to have even a greater impact than he realizes. He was the youth pastor of this best friend and I...and though he's not serving in that role anymore, God uses him like crazy.

It wows me.

My best friend has twin daughters that were given a less than 1% chance of surviving. They beat the odds, not just surviving, but thriving. God has a hold on their lives in a way that gives me goosebumps in 90 degree weather. They are on the autism spectrum. They are 6. And they are sharing Jesus with their aunt in an incredible way.

Wow doesn't even begin to express.

As I was sharing this with my kids, explaining to them that we need to pray for my friend and her entire family, my 5 year old wowed me. She wanted to pray, as she has taken a great interest in praying for people's health needs in particular. Of course I let her...but I didn't tell her what to say. This is what came out of her mouth:

"Help her get better. Please let her know Jesus in her heart so she doesn't go to hell because then she would never get to meet Jesus. God, put your power on her."

Wow.

As I was tucking my 10 year old daughter in last night, she showed me her prayer journal. I had been trying to get the kids settled in bed so that I could go for a run since my mom was here to hold down the fort. But the kids had differing ideas than I did in regards to how smoothly bedtime should go...and I was clearly getting frustrated. After I took several deep breaths and made things right with each of the kiddos, I went back to my daughter's room...which is when she showed me her journal. My name was one of 5 on the list. Next to it, she wrote the request: "please use me." I asked her what that meant. She explained to me that she wanted God to use her to encourage me. That she wanted me to know that we are going to be fine. That I'm doing well taking care of all of them. That God will take care of us. And that we're in it together. She closed her sermon by thanking me for teaching her those very things...and that it was time she said them back to me.

Talk about wow.

And though I can't really say much...I've been more than wowed at the people that God has led me to, and those that He has led to me. People that connect with one or more part of my journey. Reminding all of us that He never wastes our hurt or our experiences when surrendered to Him. I literally find myself uttering the word "wow" under my breath.

This entire week, I've mulled over the fact that God and man look at different things. Man looks at the label. God looks at the heart. Man operates based on assumptions. God operates based on truth. Man relies on stereotypes. God relies on the fact that He knew us even before we were knit together in our mother's womb. Man makes decisions based on the potential for a reaction. God could care less if people think His plan is going meet our approval. Man gets distracted and rather consumed by the temporary. God is eternity-minded.

God will use a retired youth pastor as a life changer, regardless of what his current vocation is.

God will use 6 year old children with autism, regardless of how the world views their "quality of life" or potential to contribute to society.

God will use a 5 year old as a prayer warrior, regardless of her occasional temper tantrums..

God will use a 10 year old as a counselor, regardless of her own emotional ups and downs.

And God will use a single mom of four, regardless of her story. At least that's what I'm realizing as I settle into this new reality of mine.

God will do it all at the perfect moment. In the perfect circumstances. Involving whatever and whomever is willing to let Him close enough to do His thing. Labels, assumptions, reactions and temporary scenarios don't phase Him. Thankfully, His ways are higher than our ways.

It's humbling. It's encouraging. It's convicting. It's hope-giving and life-fulfilling.

It's got the wow factor all over it.

And just in case you wondered...

God will use you, regardless of _______________.

You just have to give Him the chance to wow you...and that starts with complete and total surrender.

Always has. Always will.

It's a "beauty for ashes" thing (Isaiah 61:3).

And it wows me every single time.

His Arms are Longer

2011-08-19T08:55:00.000-04:00

This was supposed to be a first day of school post. But that was Tuesday. Today is Friday. So it will be a first week of school post instead. Because sometimes busy just happens. Not an "ugh" kind of busy. More like a "niiiice" kind of busy (extra vowels intentional...'cause that's how I would say it). It's been good stuff...awesome connections with friends, one of my spiritual superheroes, my mom, little humans and that Jesus character. And though it's been quite some time since I ate anything from McDonald's, I shall borrow their phrase and just say that I'm lovin' it.

Anywho...

My church does a very significant thing each fall as it gives the congregation members the opportunity to "adopt" a student for the year. A prayer buddy of sorts. I love it. It has played a huge role in my own children's lives in the past, and I know it will continue to. Prayer does that. Plain and simple. As for me, my passion to pray for my kids and their teachers and my prayer buddy this year is at an all new level. What a privilege to be able to make such an awesome investment into these precious lives. Precious lives that are growing up WAY too fast. The structure in which I currently sit is now the home of a kindergartner...

A first grader...

A 3rd grader...

And a 4th grader...

Words cannot express how proud I am of these kids. How blessed I am to be their mom. Their spiritual growth has been significant over the past year and it is humbling to be able to join them in that journey day in and day out.

I pray for them differently than ever before. They are full to the brim of the ability to make an impact on their world. It's a beautiful (and somewhat challenging at times) combination of the tenderhearted, discerning, bold, and the wise. I could brag on them for hours. I won't. But when they look back on some of the writing their mom has done, I want them to know how proud I am of them. And how much I adore them.

We've bonded this summer. On so many levels. And though I know that they are in the good hands of some incredible teachers and that they have the Lord on their side to both teach them and protect them...it was hard to say goodbye on Tuesday morning. I'll admit it...I had a little tear. Or two. Maybe three. As they excitedly ran off, I whispered a few extra prayers before plunging into my day.

Interceding.

Thanking.

Trusting.

As much as I love them, God loves them more intensely. As much as I know them, God knows them more intimately. As much as I want the best for them, God wants even more of the best. If I've learned anything in my semi-old age, it's that God is more than capable of handling my life. Their lives. And pretty much everything else I can think of.

It's not the first time they've walked out of my reach and towards something else. It won't be the last.

My arms are only so long. But no matter what they are walking towards, I can and will trust that God is actively fulfilling His many promises to me and to them, and that they will never be out of reach of the Father who will continue to watch over and care for them.

Clearly, His arms are longer...

Struggling

2011-08-14T21:29:00.000-04:00

I've been struggling lately.

It's normal to struggle from time to time.

It doesn't mean that I have forgotten God's faithfulness or that I doubt His sovereignty.

It doesn't cause me to cease from worshipping or thanking Him.

It's just the honest truth. Things have come up that have not been enjoyable. But God has been very good to me. He is faithful and kind. He is my Provider and my Protector and my Defender and my Everything. Regardless of if I'm handling life-stuff in a "brave Beck" sort of way or not.

Struggling doesn't shake me. It strengthens me.

It's in our weakness that He is strong. So if I'm relying on His strength, admitting my weakness makes the strength all the more obvious and available and powerful.

I've been working on breaking an addiction to worrying about what people think about me. Yes, it's healthy and quite Biblical to be aware of how people view us if we claim to be Christ's followers. Believe me...I get that. Yet at the same time, if I'm carrying myself in a particular way with the sole purpose of meeting other people's approval, I'm completely out to lunch. God isn't honored by that, and it doesn't do any of us any good either.

But I do that. Wouldn't want someone to think I'm doing too well. But also wouldn't want them to know that I'm struggling either. It's a game. A dangerous one. One that satan can use to isolate and confuse.

God has proven to me over and over again just what it means to have to rely on Him for literally all of my needs. And He has been more than generous in the ways He has cared for me. To Him be all the glory.

I also have my days that are less fun than the others, for various and multiple reasons. We all do.

I was planning on ignoring my blog for a few more days yet, but I just had to share what I read tonight before preparing for this week. Given the various "things" that have gone on over the past week or so, it really hit me...

Nothing that is not part of God's will is allowed to come into the life of someone who trusts and obeys Him. This truth should be enough to make our life one of ceaseless thanksgiving and joy, because God's will is the most hopeful, pleasant and glorious thing in the world. It is the continuous working of His omnipotent power for our benefit, with nothing to prevent it, if we remain surrendered and believing.

Someone who was passing through the deep water of affliction wrote a friend:

Isn't it glorious to know that no matter how unjust something may be, even when it seems to have come from satan himself, by the time it reaches us it is God's will for us and will ultimately work to our good?

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him" (Romans 8:28). Think of what Christ said even as He was betrayed: "Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?" (John 18:11).

We live fascinating lives if we are living in the center of God's will. All the attacks that satan hurls at us through the sins of others are not only powerless to harm us but are transformed into blessings along the way (Taken from Streams in the Desert).

That's perspective, is it not?

My job is not to pretend that I'm living a life free of sorrow.

My job is not to pretend that I'm living a life void of blessings either.

My job is to be aware of both sides of the spectrum, and to connect the dots between the two in a God-minded sort of way.

My job is to be genuine, authentic, honest and transparent. That transparency may be limited in some cases...not every person is to be considered "safe," with whom we should trust with our deepest and most intense experiences or emotions. But since God promises wisdom to those that ask for it, we can trust that He will always show us what transparency looks like.

Of course, my real job in all of this is to dialogue with my Father. Talk to Him. Listen to Him.

Trust.

Obey.

Surrender.

Believe.

I can say to satan as Jesus said to Pilate... "You would have no power over me at all unless it were given to you from above." John 19:11.

Doesn't mean I won't struggle sometimes. But it does mean that nothing can get to me until AFTER it passes through the fingers of the One who created me.

Struggling gives me the opportunity to cling to God in a way that days full of ponies and roses don't require. In a deeper way, involving more choice than emotion. More intentionality. More growth. More faith.

It may stink sometimes. It may hurt. But all that struggling is worth it in the end.

Cool Air Reflections

2011-08-11T21:56:00.000-04:00

Cooler temps have graced us with their presence this evening...which means that dinner was cooked over an open fire, as was dessert, the coffee has started brewing for the 2nd time today and the posture of "reflection" has started inching it's way into the ole thought process.

Of course, it doesn't help that my talented new cousin-in-law started up a blog and posted a few more of the pics from our session last weekend. Farren did a great job. And you should really click here to check out the photos. Seriously. Do it. Cuz I don't mean to brag...but my kids are freaking cute. And they even made room for their dear old mama bear.

The offspring are more than cute, though. They are a blessing. Trying at times. Exhausting at other times. But I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I wouldn't trade going to a soccer game when I could think of a few other places that might be a tad more enjoyable...even if it means watching my son kick the soccer ball over the fence when he's taking a break or watching my daughter pick her left nostril relentlessly, feet firmly planted in one spot on the field with no concern whatsoever about where the ball may be.

I wouldn't trade the conversations with my 10 year old sitting around the fire...even if they are filled with the verbal back and forths between a mother and her child when young desire to help meets parental boundaries and sibling perception.

I wouldn't trade the one on one "big girl" time with my youngest...even if it includes impressive (and freakishly muscular) displays of her determination NOT to get her immunizations.

The fall-like cool air that has been known to tease us this time of year in Northern Indiana does something to me. It's completely unpredictable in the most predictable way. But it most always leads to thinking. Because at the end of the day...which happens to be now...when the cool air meanders into the house and the aroma of cinnamon coffee fills the air, it's all good.

The amazingly strong youngest child of mine not only survived her shots, but she also survived another doctor's appointment, school supply shopping and a waiter at lunch who insisted about talking to us about Kate Gosselin since I apparently fool him every time I walk through the doors, which I would say has been about twice the entire year. Whatever. But the most memorable moment was when it dawned on her that she had been "brave and courageous." That was her Bible verse to memorize for the day. And God saw to it that she had an opportunity to live it out and see Him at work. It was awesome.

The 10 year old that is desperately trying to find her place as the oldest of four also saw God at work. Immediately following our multiple-topic heart to heart around the fire, a neighbor from across the way came over with a wheelbarrow full of firewood. Just because. You should have seen the grin on my big girl/little girl's face. "Mom...God wanted us to make sure He knew he was still thinking about us." You bet big girl/little girl. You bet.

The boy that thoughtlessly kicked the soccer ball over the fence? He very thoughtfully took time out of his busy schedule today to write and perform a puppet show for the 6 young girls that occupied our living quarters. He had them in stitches. He taught them powerful truths. And he did it all because he simply wanted to.

And as for the nostril obsessed daughter of mine...well, I'm not even sure where to begin. She is one of a kind. And I'm really OK with that. God uses her in quite amazing ways, that one. Her passion can never be questioned.

So no matter how many deep breaths I had to take today in order to keep my cool...how many caffeinated drinks it took to keep up with everything...and even how many tears were shed because I couldn't magically make everything perfect for the kids as they do the kid thing or for me as I do the mom thing...it truly is all good.

I have just a few more days to enjoy the kids before school takes over. And I really am going to miss hanging out with them outside, in the van, in the kitchen or in the newly re-invented basement/family room. It's turned into quite an awesome place of connection for us thanks to some minor cosmetic details, some major furniture adjustments and some other downright fun additions compliments of some lightening and my insurance company. I love hanging out with them down there...and anywhere really.

I'm going to miss them. I'm sure that when the false start to fall is replaced by the hot and sweaty days of August and I'm not constantly being followed around by a little human wondering what I'm doing and I can put away my referee uniform and I'm reminded of how delightful routine is, I will find a way to cope. And to eliminate run on sentences. But I truly will miss the extra hours of laughing, playing, reading, praying, crying, sleeping in, staying up late and just "being."

Unless that's just the coffee talking...

In which case, I would appreciate it if you would just let my coffee and I fool ourselves while we enjoy the quiet, the cool and the new basement.

Much obliged, friend. Much obliged.