puzzle pieces

What if a renowned painter took his masterpiece and cut it into millions of little bits? Odd-shaped pieces that made no sense on their own, that look funny and incomplete. If you found one on the road you would immediately know this fragment is a part of something bigger. It’s an incomplete picture. A part of a whole.

What if we are puzzle pieces? Cut out of a larger design, meant to find where we fit. Only then can we see more of the beauty that is singularly realized when we are placed next to other people. When we are fitted into the spot we were originally created for.

I think we get a glimpse of this when we figure out what we are good at, the areas in which we excel. For some of us it’s math or a love of language; perhaps standing on a ballfield or painting makes our hearts sing. We discover some skill or passion and think perhaps this is my purpose. It feels good and right to hone in on, say, running or designing or counseling. We are problem solvers, peacemakers or leaders just waiting to find our spot in life. We feel energized and purposeful when we are in these roles.

So many of us are looking for where we fit in. Sometimes it’s within our own family, “What role do I play . . . the planner, the organizer or the comic relief?” Where do we plug into the work force? As the dependable one or the empathetic one? What is a good job for me with my skills and background? What about our communities, be it urban or rural? We might ask ourselves if we take or give, do we help or hurt?

These are the questions all Christians should be asking of themselves. And really it starts with the church. By church, I do not mean a particular assembly or even a physical building, but the invisible church that all believers are part of once they enter the fold. We are fitted to fill a void in the church body. Galatians 6:10: “As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are of the household of faith.”

It’s interesting that Paul explains the church in just such a way—as a body. “So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.” (Rom 12:5) A body is only valuable when it is alive and animated, it houses our spirits and our souls, and it is the spirit that is eternal, everlasting and timeless. Just like a person, if all the systems don’t work together, something gets out of whack. We need all of the parts to work in harmony.

Have you ever heard of kinesiology? The basic definition is the study of the mechanics of body movements.

It is not limited to just muscular movements, but internal systems; like how your kidney function effects the rest of your framework. Beyond that even, how the foods we eat and emotions we deal with can take a toll on the functions of our anatomy. I find this study endlessly fascinating. How everything within our body effects everything else, and sometimes it’s hard to figure out where the problems even started? Is it a milk allergy or stress. . . I could talk about this all day.

But as someone who has historically not been a big churchgoer, I have felt challenged on this issue in the last few years. After all, the Bible tells us we need each other. We need other believers, and this was the kicker for me . . . they need us!

I have told myself: I’m in the Word, I’m in Bible studies and prayer groups, I have Christian community, I listen to teachings online. I have described it as a pieced-together church. I have all the elements without the actual commitment to a group of people. I hand-picked my group; these are people I like and get along with, what could be wrong with that?

While there is nothing “wrong” with it, I have come to see that it isn’t the full picture. Our personal friend groups are not the same as a church. When we surround ourselves with easy, amiable and like-minded people, we are not challenged to serve the unlovely or practice patience or self-control as much as we are when in a church setting—be it a huge assembly or a growing home church. It’s easier to sacrifice for people who appreciate me and love me. Now that is great, we should all be so blessed; but what about the more challenging teachings of loving the people who are difficult, if someone asks you to walk a mile, walk two or forgive someone 70x7? Am I called to do these things only in my bespoken group of friends?

Perhaps for some of us it’s easier to serve in a big setting where it isn’t personal and apt to get messy. We can sorta melt away and know others will pick up the slack. While as Christians, we are all in the big invisible church of believers, we are also to plug into a smaller piece of the puzzle. In our homes, workplaces, towns, schools and of course churches. In these places we can bring something to the table, something that might be missing. . . if we didn’t show up. God has shaped us and formed us through our experiences, our natural gifts and acquired knowledge to play a role in the body. To keep it working properly.

Have you asked God what your role is?

Have you spent time in prayer seeking His direction for your life?

What part are you uniquely suited to play?

Sometimes we need someone to pray for us. Last week, I talked to a friend going through a really hard time and she said she couldn’t even pray, I immediately knew my role, I could pray when she could not. What about when someone is tired and weary from struggles, what a blessing if we were to clean their house or make them a meal. When others have questions about the Bible we can meet them for coffee and talk it through. If a friend needs some words of encouragement, we can speak against the enemy’s lies. We all have different strengths to offer our church and community. Nobody is going to ask me to make them a meal, or it they did they would quickly have regrets; but if they are stuck on a biblical principle, I might get a phone call. This is a spot I have been fitted to fill, and I’m really glad there are people I can call to help put my house in order or drive me in bad weather.

We feel how uncomfortable it is to be slotted into the wrong spot. We are called to stretch ourselves for sure, I’ve had to bring a dish to pass (so stressful) while someone else is pushed to witness when its uncomfortable. But I sometimes wish we could have a barter system of spiritual gifts. Could someone come get my house ready for guests and I’ll talk to your co-worker about the Bible. I have actually done this and it’s great. To me this a well-working church body. Trading off our strengths and weaknesses.

This is why we need the church. I need people to speak truth over me, pray for me, expose my delusions when I’m looking at things wrong or believing lies. When we “Walk in the Spirit” we will “by love serve one another.” (Gal 5:13) Once we become believers, this is part of the call on our life. The assignment is greatest in our own homes (and usually the hardest place to walk out the fruits of the spirit). Next is to other believers, our siblings-in-Christ, this is no easy feat either. We often expect more of these people, and yet we all disappoint and need grace and understanding even when we “know better.” When we walk out in the world we often have lower expectations, so in some ways it’s easier to be forgiving and patient. Yet, we serve in all these fields, We are needed and fashioned to bring God’s truth and love everywhere we go, no matter how it’s received. No matter if it’s reciprocated. No matter if we feel equipped or not. No matter if we feel like it . . .

Our gifts are not for us to elevate ourselves, but to bring glory to God. To serve others and point towards His kingdom; away from the temporal towards the eternal, and away from death towards life. Our gifts are a shadow of God’s goodness, that when fitted together with others’ gifts, make a more complete picture of how God designed the church to function.

If we could somehow step back and look at the whole puzzle neatly fitted together, we would see how there was an intentional design all along, with a cross shaped piece right in the middle.

It is only when Christ is at that the center that any of it makes sense. His love brings order to the chaos. Meaning to the meaningless. Value to the mundane. He alone gives us purpose, fitting us into the exact spot we were shaped for in this life.  

Further reading:

A lesson from childhood: Sharing

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Drafts on Balsamic Reduction: How to thicken Your Faith

If you know me at all, you know that I’m no cook. I do not come by this naturally. I actually come from a line of women who are remembered for their dishes. My great-grandma’s homemade bread is only spoken of with awe to this day. Shortbread cookies, pies and soups still show up on my family’s tables with a dignified nod to their maker and perfecter, with a whisper, “this is Grandma’s recipe.” My own mother is famous (among my friends, that is) for her scones which are regularly requested among them because they are amazing (as is she).

This brings us back to me, the “non-cook.” Can I keep people alive? Yes. Is anyone going to bake a cake and whisper my name someday. No! If anything, I will be known for my charcuterie boards. But I do love to eat and I do really love sauces. I’m far more interested in the sauce than anything else. I always, always ask for extra. So when my family introduced me to balsamic reduction glaze, I was smitten.

I love a flavored vinegar. When the main thing you make is a “mean” salad, a flavored balsamic vinegar is like the piéce de résistance. I’ve tried some with notes of fig, chocolate and cherry, but my absolute favorite is a reduction glaze. All the luscious flavors are boiled down to this thick gloss that is just bursting with flavor. I put it on everything: salad, pizza, bread.

Has your faith gotten watery?

Why is reduction sauce so good? Because it’s been reduced down to its pure goodness. This makes me think of my faith. Sometimes my faith gets watery. It slides around and I can’t quite gather it up in my mind. My feelings dilute it and stretch it out to something tasteless. I’m unsatisfied by this weak faith. Where are the notes of peace and joy? Nobody would ask for extra of this concoction. My weakened faith is full of lies and misconceptions—that I’ve added.

The world and our culture have watered down my doctrine into something that sounds nice on a menu, but there is no substance. When I really need something to grab onto, this watered down version runs through my fingers. It has lost its color and is clear and just shows whatever thing is popular or easy.

A pure faith—a reduction, if you will—is boiled down to its finest form; what is true about God, about His Word, about me (and you). It doesn’t change. It is rich in color and flavor. It satisfies all my longings. I want an extra helping of this sauce. I want to put it on everything. My pain, my hurt, my losses. It makes everything better.

I’m trying to figure out how to make a reduction sauce faith. One that is sticky and tacky and stays where I put it.

I love to introduce people to the wonder that is balsamic reduction, therefore, it is often my contribution to a dinner party. I recently toted it along to a friend’s house, where we preceded to put it on salad, swirl it in our butternut squash soup and over homemade sourdough bread. She told me later that she tried to recreate the meal, but didn’t realize my sauce was a glaze and not just regular vinegar. It shocked her when she dumped some balsamic over a slice of bread, thinking it would be a lovely dark drizzle, but instead was a watery mess.

How often is my faith a watery version of what God is actually saying in His Word? The deep jewel-toned truths are what I need when things get difficult. I need something that will stick when I’m hurting, doubting and struggling to find God in a challenging season. It’s easy to trust Him when things are going our way. When we feel the Lord’s blessings, we can point upward and say, look how good God is . . . He has given me what I prayed for; what I longed for has come to pass. And while all good things come from God (James 1:17), what do we do in the times of hardship? When we are facing sickness, yet again? When we have gone to all the doctors and can’t get answers? When the bills are sitting dusty and unpaid on our desk? When that relationship we have worked so hard on is still in pieces on the floor?

Is God still good?

Do we point upward and say, this is really hard right now, but I know God hears my prayers?

Do we have a sticky faith that knows, though the night is long and dark, God is at work, even when we can’t see His hands?

I’m not good in this area. I’m much quicker to sing His praises when I’m “feeling” loved, when I see things lining up the way I hoped they would. When prayers are answered in my favor. Yet, I long for a faith of more depth, more substance, more staying power. I wondered how I could boil down my faith to the pure ingredients that are full of flavor, making even the driest of seasons, rich in faithfulness.

These last few months have been a time of learning hard things in many ways. When I look at the fruit of the Spirit, I’m most interested in the love, joy and peace slices and less inclined towards the patience, self-control and long-suffering cuts. Have you ever dipped a large spoon into a fruit bowl, hoping for some strawberries and blueberries and come up with a mound of melon. Sure, melon is fine; I want to be patient with the chatty lady checking me out (when I’m in a hurry) or with my dog when he pukes on the carpet (again). But where are the raspberries of joy?

There is something fundamentally off about a fair-weather faith. It’s easy to work hard at a job you love or put time into a relationship you enjoy. Yet, we are so often called to places that we don’t enjoy or feel well-equipped to handle. This is a time of simmering down our beliefs to basics. Does God always love us and want what’s best (best for our character and walk), not necessarily what is easiest? Does God want us to stretch and grow in our reliance upon Him? A time of learning these, shall we say, “less” fun characteristics, will give us staying power when things get hard.

When we are walking through a time of difficulty, learning to lean not unto thy own understanding (Pro. 3:5), but allowing God to do a work in us, we have so much more depth to offer those who cross our paths. When a friend calls and says she doesn’t know how to carry on or how God can possibly be in her illness, her marriage, her finances or her parenting that has gone sideways. . . we have something to offer. We sat down with that spoonful of melon we were served and learned new levels of knowing God.

So, how do we achieve a reduction sauce faith? How do we depend on the Holy Spirit to produce more fruit in our life?

First, and most importantly, we must know what God teaches us in His word. The reading of the Bible chases out any watery beliefs we have picked up from social media or our pseudo-religious co-worker. We learn what God really teaches. Not that it will always be easy, not that we won’t suffer, but that our Saviour also suffered (Eph 5:2) and that we can go to Him with all our fears, worries and tears because He understands (Heb 4:15). We learn that God will never leave us and He is always working on our behalf for our good even when we can’t see or feel it (Rom 8:32).

For we have not a high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities;

but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.

Hebrews 4:15 kjv

Secondly, spending time in prayer gently simmers biblical principals into our minds and hearts. I asked the Lord to help me understand the hard truths and to give me a peace in my spirit that transcends my circumstances. A joy that can’t be taken from me when the berries are out of season, when the garden is ugly and bare. We know spring will come again, there will be new life and new hope. Through the leading of the Holy Spirit, I am learning to store up fruit and preserve it in my heart—to get me through the winters of life.

And thirdly, a Bible study or prayer group where we can gather with God’s followers, carries us along as our faith is stirred and encouraged. We can season each others’ walks with lessons we have learned along the way. We can teach and learn, adding nuances to our faith that cannot be gathered in one life time. Like a dinner party where everyone brings something to share; a time in community and ministering to others which adds richness to our lives.

As we work on this boiled down faith, wherever we are in our walk (brand new or decades old), we have something to share with the body of Christ, the church and our communities.

I love to share the goodness of God, the long-suffering of Christ and the peace of the Holy Spirit. Suddenly, joy has more meaning and the blessings are sweeter, set against the lessons of the other fruits. They all work together to point us towards the glory of God. He is a God for all seasons—the winters and summers, the sour and sweet, in times of joy and in times of mourning. A full-bodied essence, a well-rounded reduction sauce that we carry with us to all situations.

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In His footsteps

I heard once that as soon as they finish painting the Golden Gate Bridge, it’s time to repaint again. Well, that’s how shoveling the driveway has been lately. So faced with yet another snow day, I needed to run into work and my son was along for the ride. We were greeted with an unplowed driveway (or possibly one that was shoveled 10 minutes ago; it’s hard to say) and since he had left his boots at school, he was clad only in tennis shoes. As I am not in the habit of leaving my winter gear at various places (seriously, every time I walk by the lost & found at school, I need a laundry basket to haul it all home), I laced up boots for the blizzard and he did not. Alas, being the great parent that I am, I said, “I will walk to the door in my tall boots and you follow in my footsteps, since the snow is literally up to your knees . . . which is why we have boots.” Anyway, who can bother to remember appropriate foot wear? (Not him!)

I was equipped to handle the weather. I had donned all my armor, so to speak: coat, hat, gloves, (clears throat) boots. I had checked the weather report and saw blizzard and got out the big guns—my Russian princess coat, the gloves you can’t even bend your fingers in and a hat, complete with the ball thingy on the end (that means you are serious, by the way). I was ready to go. I’m one of those weirdoes, who kind of likes winter, but fully know part of the reason is that I’m well prepared for it. I have good gear, so I don’t feel the icy chill one would, say, without a coat and boots.

I do believe it’s a fairly common phenomenon for children to not want to wear their coats and hats. In fact, in my house it’s almost a daily argument.

Me in a bewildered tone: “You need a coat; it’s 12 degrees out there.”

Said child: “But if anything, I’m too hot right now.”

Me (still bewildered): “Yes, well, you are inside where it is heated, but you are about to enter the tundra where the wind chill is like 8 degrees. I promise, you will want a coat.”

With no faith and under threat of duress, said child, dons his coat as if he is doing me a favor! Then 20 minutes later wants to come in because . . . wait for it . . . he is cold.

Children and so many of us tend to live in the moment, don’t we? Everything is fine now; I’m warm and don’t need any more layers. The Bible tells us . . . In this world, you will have trouble (John 16:33). . . We are warned over and over again that we need to be ready for battle. Our enemy, Satan, has a blizzard planned. We know it’s coming because we can check the forecast (the prophetic Word of God) Yup, 100% chance of warfare; wear your winter coat. Parents, teachers and reasonable adults can look outside and see snow and logically say, you will need your boots. God has also “looked” outside and knows that storms are coming.

Our All-Knowing God, like any good parent wants his children to do well in the elements and, say, not lose a finger to frostbite. So, he gave us some gear to put on. It’s called the armor of God. You can read all about this armor in the book of Ephesian (chapter 6) and there are many good studies that focus on this crucial teaching of the Bible. I have done several, but one of my favorites is by Pricilla Shrier, called the Armor of God. I highly recommend it.

When you get ready to go out in the world put on your:

Belt of Truth

Breastplate of Righteousness

Shoes of the Gospel of Peace

Helmet of Salvation

Sword of the Spirit

Shield of Faith

Ephesians 6:10-18

We, in our ignorance or immaturity, don’t always think we need these things. We are comfortable and from our point of view, we can’t see any warfare. But God, our loving Father, says to put it on daily. We don’t always like to listen. It takes time after all to zip up a coat and dig a hat out of the bin. We need to study the armor so we understand it, take the time to pray about it, build our faith and trust in Him. It is far easier to just walk outside. But like a kid, we will only last about 20 minutes before we feel like we are going to lose a toe and want to come back inside. Winter is a hard season, in many ways; I believe it can be a picture of life’s struggles and hardships. Our spiritual life has cycles, just like the seasons of the year - the cold, dormant winter moving into the the spring and the renewal of life.

Winter (physically and spiritually) can be depressing. I think of the part from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, where the witch made it always winter and never Christmas. Wouldn’t the enemy just love to overwhelm us in our winter seasons. We feel cold, isolated, shut off from the sun (the Son). Yet, God gave us winters in our lives for a purpose, each unique in its lesson. Perhaps you are feeling lonely or you would give anything for some alone time. Perhaps you have been battling health issues and feel as if you have more questions than answers. Or a friendship you counted on has unexpectedly froze. An exciting business venture seems stuck or yet another promotion passed you by. Whatever the “winter” is you are dealing with, God knew it was coming. And while we would much rather he had rerouted the storm, it still hits. Sometimes one after another.

The good news, though, is that you have a loving Parent who knew it would be cold outside. He bought you some winter gear and laid it out by your door. He won’t wrestle you into it, but it is there for the taking. We will feel the chill of this fallen and broken world, and yet, the Lord knew this and prepared a coat to keep you warm during this season of life. It’s so much better with our armor intact. We have a loving Savior who has walked ahead of us. Jesus arrived fully human (as well as fully God), so He knows what it’s like to walk knee-deep in struggles. He left His footprints for us to follow in when we bring shoes (instead of boots) to a snowstorm. His steps lead us to know the Word, to be in communion with our Lord and Savior through prayer and to be in community with other believers. Have you ever been surprised by a neighbor snow blowing your driveway? What an unexpected blessing! In turn, who can we bless even in the midst of our own blizzards? Maybe you can babysit for an overwhelmed mother, invite a lonely co-worker to coffee, offer prayer (and cookies) to a hurting friend, teach a new Christian about the armor of God, or shovel someone’s driveway (more than once in a day?).

What is God doing in this winter of your life?

What lessons?

What calling do we have even during the blizzards?

Look for God’s footprints in the snow (and wear your coat!)

looking for the lessons

Take heart: Why Our Struggles Are Important

I never want anyone to struggle. I don’t want to walk through hard things. I don’t want you to either. I want our lives to look like a beautiful Instagram feed; where all the tones match, the background is well-balanced with books and succulents and everyone is bright and happy in their organic cotton clothes. Not only that, but full of interesting, if not witty, things to say about life, love and rescue dogs.

My life does not look like this. And that is important, because I’m going to need your help. If my life was problem-free, I would not need your prayers, time and support and we would both miss out on how God uses you and me to move in the lives of people.

As a writer, I have always been told I need a brand, a voice, a genre that people will expect. When you are starting a blog or website it is best to have a look or brand (you will notice mine is mostly typewriters and coffee) in muted tones no less. My life, unlike my website, does not have a theme like “dark and moody”; that is just me every morning before coffee. Or you might find me “bright and colorful,” which is how I feel when someone brings me a cookie (or preferably a baker’s dozen). I’m all over the place.

Life Isn’t A Staged Instagram Post (We Don’t Get 20 Takes)

My real life photo album would look more like this:

First photo: my rescue dog puking on the carpet (not the wood floor, nope the carpet, the one we are going to change out as soon as the dog stops eating uneatable things outside).

Next pic: a demitasse cup of coffee (note the theme) on my coffee table; no, wait . . . you can’t actually see my coffee table because it looks like a LEGO hospital with legs and heads everywhere!

Photo number three: me ruining a perfectly good photo with my friends by being the only one who blinks (always). Actually now that I read this all back it is a recognizable theme: Struggle. Is that a genre? Dickens seemed to think so.

Again, I don’t want to struggle, I want it all to work out. I want all the ends to meet. I don’t want to run out of thread or have the wrong color or just have lost the spool all together. Sometime my struggles are the result of my own sin or bad choices. Like staying up too late to read and then being tired and grumpy the next day and trying to withdraw money from the bank, getting denied, freaking out(!) and then realizing that you are at the wrong bank. Sometimes the struggles are a result of other peoples’ bad choices like when someone steals your identity and empties your bank account buying men’s outdoor gear a week before Christmas. And sometimes struggles just happen, like your kid getting sick on the day you have a big presentation at work, or it downpours on an outdoor party that you’ve spent weeks planning.

Struggles Bring Us Into God’s Work

If it all worked out we wouldn’t really need each other. I wouldn’t need you to listen to me over coffee when I’m worried and upset. You wouldn’t need me to puzzle through relationship problems for hours in a parked car in your driveway. I wouldn’t need that meal during a busy and stressful time. You wouldn’t need me to pray about your job. We wouldn’t need each other’s parenting advice or someone to let our dog out or pick up our kid. We would have it all together and be self-sufficient, untouchable and confident. Yet, in Galatians we are taught to—Bear one another burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.

Instead we struggle and it creates cracks in the image we want to send the world. That we know how to parent that child and how to communicate in our marriages. That we can handle everything that is coming our way with a smile. I often find myself stressing over the wrong things, focusing on how things look instead of how things are. I want all the homework turned in on time, the lunch box to be a balanced meal instead of an array of snacks (because that’s all he will eat at school and I can’t throw away another sandwich). I want my words to my family to be uplifting and not just an outpouring of my own frustrations. Like an Instagram feed, I want it to look staged and perfect. I want to have 20 takes and pick the best one. Let me try this conversation about not forgetting your homework folder a few times and pick the one that is best, not my knee-jerk, freak-out one—definitely not the one to go with.

But instead of having time to fix my lipstick and smoothing down my flyaways, life just keeps snapping the pictures and they are not all flattering. My instinct is to hide these pictures, not share them with my friends and family. Not tell people my fears and my failures. I want to be a woman that trusts God, that boldly just says, God is working this out. I do believe I can have faith and trust in Him. I believe His Word. I pray because I know it matters and I know He hears me. Yet, doubts creep in, fears dance around in the shadows taunting me; they know me, they know just how to get my attention. These are moments I want to hide, I want to tell you over text that I’m just busy. I want to make excuses to stay home because these pictures are not pretty. They are blurry and the lighting is real bad.

Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.

Philippians 2:4

Ironically, oh so ironically, I dislike this in other people. I don’t want you to hide your hurt, I never want you to pretend things are okay when you can’t sleep because of worry or you are mad at your spouse. I want to walk through that with you. Your struggles are good for my walk because they make me re-examine what I believe about the Lord. Your struggles make me look at God’s Word for answers. They make me pray boldly for you while you cry on my couch (surrounded by all the LEGO pieces). I need to see your trials to see that it’s not just me that feels overwhelmed, tired and out of my depth. And you need the same from me.

Sometimes other people’s issues put our own in perspective; sometimes they make us feel less alone, but they can always give us an opportunity to do the Lord’s work. I can speak truth against a lie you are believing. You can lay hands and pray over my headache. The Lord can use my words to give you insight into a hard relationship and he can use you to meet a practical need, like letting my dog out when I have a day of solid meetings. Sometimes it’s big warfare work, coming against a stronghold in someone’s life and other times it’s something more simple like your husband dropping off a Mexican hot chocolate at work when you’re having a hard day. But I feel God’s hand in the big and little ways others help me in my struggles.

Life was feeling pretty hard while I worked on this piece. But God showed up in big and small ways. He used His people to bless me physically, providing for my needs in practical ways. Even sweet notes full of encouraging words with coffee cards inside (my love language). Someone told me she was having a wretched day when she wrote me a note of encouragement (which I found especially touching). When we can bless people out of our hardships, it’s all the more meaningful. Even in the midst of our own struggles we can do God’s work. I know there was much prayer which lead to the way God used this time to open me up to hear His truth. The Holy Spirit lead me to some teaching that I needed to hear about God’s provision, about His love and His character. I found myself broken and trying to heal. Learning a lesson I could only learn when I felt scattered in pieces. We all need to struggle to grow.

Take heart: I need your struggles and you need mine.

Do you try to hide your struggles? Do you delete the bad photos and only show the world the staged pictures?

How has another person’s struggle helped you to go deeper in your faith so you could encourage them?

Have you seen God’s hand in your life through the acts and words of other believers?

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Drafts on The Unlived Life

Your flight has been canceled! How many times have we arrived to the terminal to be told those soul-crushing words. We had a plan. A ticket, even, as proof of the direction (literally) our life was headed. We had it all mapped out only to be told we would not be partaking in those particular plans. Has there ever been a more fitting metaphor for life? When we are young we make such grand plans. With nary a thought for cost, delays or an entire re-routing. We say such things as, “I shall never get married” or “I will have three kids, two boys and a girl,” with no concept of any interference. We boldly pronounce that we will leave town as soon as we can, securing a flat in a faraway country or a lavish ocean-front home. Dreams are free. Free of cost, free of reality. Free of the entanglements and strange twists of life. But all too often dreams get canceled.

We are just coming off the holidays and I always try to make a point of watching It’s a Wonderful Life. I have seen this movie more times than I can count; I even acted in the play in college. The older I get the more I realize just what George gave up. I’m sure you are familiar with the movie, but in a slight recap, George Bailey has big plans. He grows up dreaming of travel and excitement. In one scene he is purchasing a suitcase for his adventures. The first piece of luggage he is shown is met with a head shake, no that is not big enough! It will never hold the numerous stickers from all the countries he plans to visit. He has a life plan and it is getting out of his little town to see the world. Bag in hand he heads out to say goodbye to friends and family. But, alas, George never puts one sticker on that suitcase. It turns out he didn’t need the extra large one, or for that matter, any luggage at all. That life was canceled.

Do you have a suitcase in your closet for that life you never lived? Most of us do. Have you packed up a wedding dress that never walked down an aisle or put away baby clothes that were never used? Did you plan to finish college and got sidetracked by a baby? The move to Paris or Rome never materialized and you live in the same town where you grew up. The job pays the bills, but you had dreams of a career in fashion or owning your own restaurant. You thought you would go out to conquer the world, but instead you deal with chronic pain or depression and conquering the day is all you can manage. Or you were going to show your kids the world and everything you loved as a child, but they live in their own quiet world that you can’t quite reach.

Most of us are George Bailey with a life unlived. We did the right thing, we stepped up when a parent needed help, we held back when a child needed us. We pay the medical bills instead of booking that voyage. We take in a struggling friend or we do rounds of endless doctor appointments with our spouse. We put the suitcase in the closet and shut the door. Perhaps you made a series of wrong decisions. Invested in the wrong person, left when you should have stayed, stayed when you should have left. Either way you feel like George when it all starts to cave in around you. You look longingly at the empty suitcase and think if only . . .

We Make Resolutions (And Then Life Happens)

So here we sit in the foothills of the mountain that is this year; this decade even, and we are asked to make New Year’s resolutions. To write down what we hope to achieve these next 365 days. I can strive to write more, have less clutter in my house and find something to be thankful for each day. But the truth is I will forget about these small goals in a month’s time. We never talk about these aspirations in March or July. They are long forgotten because life happens. We move again, someone gets sick, someone gets born, we switch jobs, we age. There are triumphs of course. We meet the right person, we get a promotion, we start a business, we finish school. But the trouble with even achievements is that they fade. In It’s a Wonderful Life, George has wonderful things happen. He marries a lovely woman, has four children, helps countless friends, grows the business and supports his country during wartime. He is a beloved pillar of his community.

I do not for one minute think, if George had left town that day and taken his trip, we wouldn’t be having this same discussion—it would just be in reverse. He would have traveled, but never found, say, love or real meaning. He would see the world, but have no sense of home. We humans are genius at longing for what we do not have. If it wasn’t that thing, it would be another. I’m easily tricked into thinking, if I had what I wanted, than I wouldn’t want what I have now. That if I had gotten on that “flight,” I would be happier somehow. I would have a wonderful life. But it is a lie. If we travel, we long for home. If we are secure, we want adventure. If we have responsibilities, we want none and if we have none, we ache for them. We are funny, fickle creatures. Always chasing something. Always wanting more . . . or less.

We are always chasing something.

Always wanting more … or less

We all have suitcases in our closets

I can tell you my perfect life as I’m sure you can tell me yours. We are told the trick is balance. But we can’t, no matter how hard we try, stay in balance; we just hit it once and while, on the way to being out of balance. I’m all for being mindful and intentional. Make New Year’s goals; I did! But what the Bible says in Philippians 4: 11-13 is true; we must learn to be content in whatever state we find ourselves—in plenty and in need. I’m always in both these spots in various parts of my life. Flush with friendships, but struggling at work or dry spiritually but in good health. The life I wanted is not this. How could it be? I long for balance, for perfection and something is always out of sync.

If I could make it all work, I would not need a Savior. My goals are sweet, but small. They speak to the here and now which will never, ever be enough. I can have the best marriage, kids, job, vacations and it would not come close to being enough. One of the greatest blessings in my life are friends, as dear as sisters, and family I enjoy like friends, but it is only a taste of what I long for. Achieving dreams is amazing. I met a goal of getting over 100 pieces published and it was rather exciting and a feather in my cap; but it does not give my soul purpose, it is merely a feather, ornamental. I very much wanted our unique little house with the wall of windows and mid-century modern fixtures, but I have to be very careful not to complain about its lack of a second bathroom and doors that don’t close tight. Opening our own business was exciting, but at the end of the day, it’s a job, and a hard job at that. All the dreams that do come true are still not enough.

God knew it would never be enough. Our bodies were not designed to die, but to live. Our hearts were not created for envy and longing, but for a perfect, complete love. Our minds are meant for good, for edifying thoughts, not negative and evil imaginings. We use our liberty to create bad as well as good. We are victims of others’ free will and they are our tragedies, as well. So thus the world goes: broken, lost, and hurting even in the best of circumstances. The Bible teaches us to control our thought life, to think on things that are good and lovely; not because we will necessarily manifest a better life that way, but because we will need this discipline to navigate life. (Read about this in Philippians 4:6-8) It is a bumpy road. Sometimes the plane leaves on time and we get upgraded to first class and life looks good; but other times we have to sleep in the airport, just to find out we are seated next to a fussy toddler (who is oftentimes our own!).

This post is not about how we miss one flight to make another, different but better excursion. Our lives are a lot of canceled trips, lost tickets, sick on Christmas Day, missed opportunities and so forth. And in many ways we just miss out. But we are mostly nearsighted. We look at the life unlived and we mourn, while God sees eternity, knowing the end from the beginning. He knows our hurts and our disappointments, He is farsighted! Where we see loss, hurts and failures; He sees the refining of our souls. He knows we are pilgrims, just passing through. As it turns out we didn’t miss the flight at all, we are still waiting to board. It’s a bit of a delay, so we set about doing things, having families, working that job, putting our hearts into a ministry . . . all while we wait to live our (yet) unlived life.

Do you find yourself longing for an unlived life this side of eternity?

Have you considered that even if you had that dream life it would still never be enough? Can you think of some examples of people who have it “all” and still struggle?

What can you do to keep your focus on the things that are “good and lovely"?

The Christmas Dress

This post is different than my regular writing. I’m actually sharing a short story (under a different title) that I wrote for a lovely girl’s magazine called Brio. I wrote this piece last year for the December issue and now that I own the rights to the story again, I’m free to share it here. Its just a simple little story that was inspired by my beautiful cousin, Kelsey (but she has great taste in bridesmaids’ dresses).

The Christmas Dress

by Emily Downs

Leave it to her brother to ruin Christmas. Sabina stared in the full-length mirror at her red and green plaid dress with a giant velvet black bow at the back, added for good measure. She looked and felt like she was twelve instead of almost fifteen, her next birthday.

Her mom rushed into the room, “Oh Sabina! You look beautiful.”

“Of course, you would say that! I look like I am starring in a Christmas play of Little Women.”          

Mom walked up behind her, “My own little Jo March.”

Sabina spun around. “Mom, I can’t be seen in this. Why do I even have to be in the wedding?”

“It’s an honor to be asked and Delia wanted you and your sister to be a part. I think it was very sweet of her.”

So sweet, Sabina fumed in her head, to dress her like a colonial girl. Not to mention she was now wearing a matching dress with Samantha, her 10-year-old sister, who could not be more annoyingly thrilled about the forced twin outfits.

Sam ran into the room all bouncy ribbons and bows. “Look at us, we look the same.”                                                                                                                               

“My dream come true,” Sabina said dryly.

Sarcasm was lost on Sam and she beamed.   

Mom gave her a look. “Sabina, I want you to remember that this day is not about you. You are a bridesmaid for your brother and Delia, this day is for them.”

“I’m doing it aren’t I? I’m in this dress.” She picked up the plaid dress with disgust, holding it out.

“Your heart isn’t right,” said Mom flatly.

“I can’t make myself like this dress.”

“I’m not asking you to like the dress, but the attitude with which you do things counts just as much as actually doing them.”

Sabina sighed loudly and looked away.

“You know, daughter,” Mom lowered her voice, “The Lord tells us in his Word that He doesn’t look at the outward appearance, but at our hearts. Anybody can go through the motions, but doing it with a loving attitude, that is what pleases God.”

Sabina shrugged, “As long as I’m doing it, what’s it matter?”

 Mom touched her shoulder, “You have the chance to bless other people with your attitude, don’t miss out on that today.”   

Sam spilled her juice and mom leaped to action to save the dress from a juice stain, which Sabina secretly thought, couldn’t make the dress any worse. She was glad Mom’s attention was off her for a while; she didn’t need a lecture in a good attitude. The pictures would end up all over social media and her whole school would be able to see her humiliation. Nobody seemed to care about that.

She stomped off to the bathroom. Pushing open the door she heard crying. Delia was sitting at one of the vanities crying. Sabina wanted to quietly back out of the room, but Delia spotted her in the mirror.

“Oh, Sabina,” she sniffed, dabbing her eye with a tissue. “Sorry you caught me crying.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sabina, “I can go.” She felt instantly uncomfortable. What if she didn’t want to marry Simon anymore or something awful? She should get her mom.

“Come in.” Delia turned from the mirror and faced her.

“I knew I would be emotional today, but it really just hit me.”

Sabina sat in one of the peach chairs in the lounge area and her plaid dress puffed up around her. She tried to pat it down without making a face.

Delia sighed, “I’m so glad you are in the wedding, it means a lot to me. And you look so pretty in that dress.”

“Sure,” said Sabina with a frozen doll-like smile.

“I don’t know if Simon told you, but my mom loved Christmas. It was her favorite day of the year.”

Sabina’s fake smile slipped a little. “I didn’t know that.” She knew Delia’s mom had passed away when she was in high school, but they had never talked about it.

“I’m not sure how to get through this day without her.” She started crying again.

“I’m sorry,” squeaked Sabina, and she meant it. She had never stopped to think about how hard this day would be for Delia without her mom.

“My mom got married on Christmas Eve, too, and those dresses,” she waved at the plaid fabric engulfing the peach chair, “are the same dresses my mom used when she got married. I showed pictures to the dressmaker and she copied them.”

Sabina stared back at her and felt something start to melt in her heart.

“Well, I better stop crying or I’ll never get my makeup done.” She swiveled back in the chair and started applying blush with a shaky hand.

Sabina watched her for a minute and felt like time had slowed. She looked down at the dress she had hated so much and saw something different. She felt her heart change. The dress was not about her or how she looked or what her friends thought. The dress was about Delia’s mom. About how she was without her mom on her wedding day, something Sabina couldn’t imagine.  

“Delia,” she said in quiet voice. “I think this dress is really beautiful.” She wasn’t lying; it really was a beautiful way to honor her future sister-in-law’s mother. She suddenly didn’t care about any of that other stuff. Instantly, she knew that this was what mom meant by blessing others with her attitude. 

Delia turned back to her, “Do you really think so? I know they’re old-fashioned, but I think they are really pretty, too.”

“Yes,” said Sabina and tears spilled out. “I’m so sorry you have to do this without your mom.”

“Oh, look now I have you crying; here have a tissue.” She laughed, “We have to pull it together.”

Sabina laughed too and wiped her eyes. “Thanks for letting me be a part of your wedding and for letting me wear this dress.”

Delia got up to hug her. “I’m so excited to have you as a sister. Here, help me with this makeup.”

At the reception, Mom brought Sabina a piece of cake. “You did a great job today. Delia told me what you said to her in the bathroom before the wedding. That you told her the dress was beautiful.” Mom raised an eyebrow.

Sabina took a bite of cake and nodded. “It really is. I mean that it was her mom’s dress. And,” she said reluctantly, “it might have felt good to do it with the right attitude.”

Mom laughed. “You will never regret letting the Lord use you to bless others. And,” she said with a tip of her head, “it just might come back to bless you.”

Sabina rolled her eyes, but then laughed. “I guess I did have fun today.”

“It’s amazing how our heart can change what our eyes see.” Mom hugged her, “Your heart does look beautiful in that dress.”

*********

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7b

selfie with my story (I love the illustration)

Although this story was written for a young audience it makes me think about the state of my own heart. I can do the right things with the wrong outlook and it falls flat. A Christmas pie dropped on the floor is still a pie, but nobody wants it. As a parent, I’m always talking about doing things with a good attitude because it really does matter. I want the pie served on a plate (preferably with whipped cream); I’m not all that interested in eating it off the floor. Although an argument could be made that floor pie is better than no pie, but it is clearly not the same experience as plated dessert. Eating it off the floor is really not the mood we were all hoping for here. Like Sabina in the story, she was willing to be in the wedding and wear the dress, but her bad attitude was ruining the actions.

How can we change our hearts when it come to the holidays this year? Maybe something as simple as having patience with the long lines at the bakery, asking the harried shop owner how they are doing or waving at an overworked postal carrier. Taking time to really listen (with patience) to that relative that likes to complain and instead of getting annoyed, maybe trying to redirect their thinking towards all their blessings. One less present to buy and to wrap for the kids traded for an extra Christmas story at bedtime. A moment of acknowledgment for the person who lost someone special and is experiencing the holidays without them for the first time.

We go to the work soiree, the family gathering, the school mixer and we are so often overextended that our hearts are not in it. It feels like one more thing to do, one more present to buy, one more veggie tray to pick up. But what if we change our attitudes and look for someone to bless. A sweet outlook can be infectious and perhaps help someone who is really struggling. A merry heart can make a dreaded task sweeter and allows us to bless others in the midst of the swirl of holiday pressures.

A merry heart doeth good like a medicine . . .

Proverbs 17:22a

Drafts on Floating through the Holidays

Winter came early here in Michigan (and perhaps the whole country). Quite suddenly, we had no idea where our ice scrapers were and snow pants were seemingly sold out overnight. And all this, before I even had a chance to assess if we had any matching gloves (by the way . . . the answer is no; I somehow have only seven right hands - if anyone can explain this to me, please do so). And just like that, the holidays are upon us. While I love the first wave of the season, from pumpkin everything and gingerbread lattes to twinkly lights and Christmas music; it’s all the ambiance with none of the stress. I can enjoy the decorations in my favorite coffee shops and fill my car with Carol of the Bells, until the second wave steamrolls in: then these twinkly lights start on full stroke mode, the music becomes too loud and too frantic and there’s so much stuff to buy and wrap and all the traveling . . . oh, my!!

This year I have decided to try and float through the holidays.

Sounds great, right? 

But how does one float?      

A basic staple of any swim class is learning to float. It doesn’t seem like something we would have to be taught. After all the human body is almost naturally buoyant. If we just relax and fill our lungs with air, we sit on the surface of the water with hardly any effort. Yet, as I sat on the sidelines of a class of beginners’ swim lessons, floating was anything but natural. It was downright terrifying.

My son did not take to swimming easily. He, like many kids, was afraid to go underwater. It took some tough love from a wonderful swim teacher to convince him to put his head underneath the surface. Ms. Liz was loving and patient, but no nonsense. She would listen to his fears and say she understood, but he would, in fact, be going underwater. I completely trusted her and I knew it was very important for him to learn to swim. I, too, understood his fears, but I knew this was an important lesson—vital to a kid that lives in a beach town. As I would wade through his fears and tears to get him where he needed to be to learn to swim, I wondered how God looks at me as I fight an important lesson He is trying to teach me. He understands I’m afraid of the unknown and what could go wrong, but He also knows I must learn to swim in this world.

Once my child went underwater a few times, lo and behold, he not only liked it, he loved it! In fact, a new problem arose as the class stood in line on the submerged ledge; instead of being afraid of putting his head underwater, he was always underwater! (Duly missing the instructions in his lesson.) While I gave him my “get it together eyes” from the sidelines, as the teacher had to ask, yet again, for him to keep his head above water; it secretly made me smile to see him enjoy the water so much. Not only do I want him to be safe, I want him to enjoy the freedom and delight of swimming. Just as we learn all the safety lessons from studying our Bibles, I imagine God smiles, seeing his children enjoy life, but like any loving parent, He wants us to do it safely. He designed us for relationships and he gifted us with talents and skills, he gave us passions and callings, but he knows we could easily drown in them. Unless we first learn to swim.

In the swim class, Ms. Liz would have the kids lay on their backs and practice floating on the surface of the water. She taught them that if they ever get in trouble to just flip over on their backs and float. (A skill we all need during this holiday season.) Well, my child could not do this, he would immediately panic, struggle and sink. The instructor would  say, “Do you trust me not to let you go under?” He would nod yes, but his heart wasn’t in it. Has the Lord asked you to trust Him as he untangles your hurts, moves you forward in something new or closes a chapter in your life? And while you are nodding yes, is your heart panicking? What is He asking of you in this season of celebrations and time with family? Are we drowning under doing it all? Doing it perfectly? Sinking while your arms are full of pumpkin seasoning and rustic sleigh bell gift adornments.  

Ms. Liz helped my son by letting him rest his head on her shoulder as he tried to float. That way he could feel something firm underneath his head and she would whisper to him, “I got you.” I see myself in this, God lets me rest my head on his shoulder (my crazy spinning brain that just needs to rest) while I’m learning to float. When I’m tired and worn out by this world, the demands of life, the fear of moving forward in faith — I can’t even float, I just start to sink. We start to think our gifts aren’t thoughtful enough, our party clothes aren’t sparkly enough and that the cookies came out a bit too chewy (well I don’t think that because everyone knows I will break my own oven to get out of baking). I can rest all my inadequacies on the shoulders of the Lord. I can lay my worries and fears on Him.

Last year my sister came home for Christmas and she texted us and said, I will not be bringing any gifts, the gift is my presence! And you know what? I loved it! I do enjoy giving and getting gifts, but the ultimate gift I can give to you and you can give to me is to be in each other’s lives. So that necklace or scarf I got you is just bonus. I can float though the pressure of . . . is it the right color or the right thing? Should I have done more? This is not the real gift. What you are really unwrapping is a ”thank you” for being there when I call too late or need too much. This one day and this one gift will never be worthy of all the times you made me laugh or got me out of a jam. So, I’m just going to float this pair of gloves over your way and if it’s still in the bag I bought it in, well . . . that’s okay, too.          

The interesting thing about floating is that there is a lot of trust involved. Our bodies will lay on the surface of the water, but only if we relax and let go of all the panic and fear weighing us down. I wrote in my last post (Drafts on Ebb Tide) about how the enemy tries to drown us with lies about how unforgivable we are, how we will never overcome our pain or how we can’t handle our present situation. Sure we can struggle through the water with these burdens, but eventually when we run out of our human energy, we will need rest. The enemy knows we can never float with these things weighing on us. His lies are meant to make us sink. And we can go under in a million ways: drinking too much, escaping into entertainment too often, finding our worth in unstable things like status and money and looks. I personally can feel depression and despair start to pull me away from the people in my life that would uplift me; everything looks dark and I just want to stay under a blanket to cope. And the whole point of the holidays is lost in the enemies lies. And the point? A thankful heart around the thanksgiving table and star-lit eyes over the babe found in the manger. Peace in our souls and good will towards men is the point.

Floating is rest. The rest we need. God designed our bodies to need breaks. When we sleep we heal and recharge. He built night into day, sabbath into the week and our bodies float so we don’t have to always be swimming. When my day swarms me; emails, laundry, hurting friends to pray for, research for my writing and 3rd grade math (which in my case means watching instructional youtube videos and still not understanding) and then I have to come up with something for dinner on top of all that?!

Swim lessons; life lessons

I need time in my day to just float and on those days that I can’t even float because I feel too crazy, the Lord lets me lay my head on His shoulder and whisper, “I’ve got you.” I open my Bible and the living Word soothes me and I ask the Holy Spirit to help me and He buoys my soul (even though nothing in my physical world has actually changed). So I heat up soup and toast bread and laugh at 3rd grade math because seriously, what else is there to do? And I float.

We float because our lungs are full of air. My air is God. He fills me. He holds me until I can swim again. When things are really bad, when I’m afraid and lost He lets me lay my head on something firm. His Word is firm. His character is solid. His truth is enough to carry all my weights until I let Him cut them loose. Then when exhaustion hits, I know what to do. I flip over on my back and float. A prayer in the car. A Bible verse check on my phone. Truth is in my head and faith in my heart, where it can’t be lost or misplaced. It’s really not that hard as it turns out, but it feels scary. Like my son in swim class, it takes a leap of faith, that feeling as you start to sink, but then somehow you don’t. The Holy Spirit brings you back up to the surface where you can lay there and just breathe.

So this year I’m going to try and float through the holidays. The gifts will never be enough, I will be overly tired from traveling and a little jittery from all the coffee. I most likely will not be at my best. So if you want to have a little cry in the spare bedroom or borrow my undereye concealer come find me. I’m going to try and not panic and just rest in God.

My advice for this busy, crazy festive season is to start practicing floating.             

In what areas of your life are you drowning and instead of flipping over on your back to float—you are panicking? Is it finances? Health? Relationships? 

How do you drown in the holidays? What would it look like if you tried floating through? Simple unwrapped gifts, less commitments, buy the cookies? (I mean, I have to because my oven is broke)  

Drafts on Ebb Tide

Change is a constant companion in our lives. Like the ebb tide of the waves, the new washes up and the old is swept away. It is relentless. When we are young, this feels slow, as if we will be children forever; remember when summer felt like it would go on forever? One sandy beach day disappeared into the next, marked by dripping popsicles in the hot sun and counting fireflies in the evenings. I never once thought about change on those long carefree days. But change was always there, with me, even when I was unaware. Now as a middling adult, I’m keenly aware of change and the passage of time. My childhood seems a lifetime ago. The changes I have gone through are staggering. The hardships and the growth that followed has formed me into an entirely different person.

As I write, I’m perched at the window bar of a coffee shop and my view consists of blowing leaves and pumpkins on hay bales: it is autumn. This is my favorite season. I identify with its many layers—a clear sun followed by unexpected clouds, cold rain and gusty winds. I have often wondered what our favorite seasons say about us. Fall is a time of change, cooling temps, tall boots and burnt orange sweaters, The days are short, but bright. It is the last brilliant moment before the world resets with a long sweep of cleansing cold, unforgiving air. It is change wrapped around me like a scarf, held in my hands like hot apple cider.

The older I get the more I realize that change is part of the game; it’s not going away. I’m constantly growing and learning. And in that growth, I must face the fact that there needs to be growth, because I’m still not there yet. I see this in my marriage. After 15 years together, we are still figuring it out. Our partnership, all and all, is fairly smooth, but then last weekend we had a fight about a juicer. Yup, a juicer! So guess there is still room for growth there, or at least a glass of carrot juice.

Parenting is arguably the biggest vehicle of growth around. Having a baby is like an instant death to your old self and born in its place is this soft squishy person who cares about bizarre things like the shape of pacifier nipples and who keeps a journal of wet diapers. Who is this person? And in a way you relive your childhood all over again with all the great things, like reading Make Way for Ducklings, but also all the hard things, like when your first fish dies (R.I.P. blue beta fish). And you change. . . you are a parent to a baby and then a toddler and then suddenly the baby is driving. And while you were fine to drive at 16, surely that cannot be true today!

Twisting in the Waves

Change also comes in the form of hardships. Tragedies like divorce, loss or severed relationships that can close off parts of us until they shrivel up and die. We can’t even access that part of our heart anymore. Maybe you have lost someone or perhaps your marriage feels like far more of a struggle than it’s worth, a needy child is chipping away at you and there is no time for anything you enjoy. The grind of life . . . has well. . . ground you up. Those long easy days of summer are a distant memory that play in your head like a movie you watched once. Ten-year-old you would never recognize your life now. Your dream journal seems completely unrealistic. Obviously, you are never going to work for SeaWorld at this point (although, the Blackfish documentary really finished off that dream).

Blackfish aside, I don’t know where you are at today. Perhaps life has come up roses with a few thorns or perhaps it’s thistles with a few flowering weeds. Life is always in motion, the waves are always reaching for us, trying to push us forward or pull us back. Sometimes there is little we can do about our circumstances. My childhood was punctuated with tragedy, there were long summer days and nights on the porch counting fireflies, but storms blew in unexpectedly. Loss and tragedy are big part of my identity. Of who I am. They shaped me young into twisty ways that are taking a lifetime to untangle. But I’m working on it.

The enemy has spent years whispering in my tender ear that this is who I am. That these knots cannot be untangled. The blood supply has been cut off and growth cannot take place. And you know what? In many ways it’s easier to let these areas lie dormant. I’m strangely comfortable in it. Like when your foot falls asleep and you are unaware until you try to move it and as blood flows back into those veins, it is painful. As I have reopened some of my past, it too, is painful; but I no longer want to be pushed into a shape that God did not intend for me.

So I look back at things that happened to me and I start to look at it all through the eyes of the Lord. Sure, He can use these things and He absolutely does, but also He does not want me to be bound up in my losses, my hurts, my disappointments.

When the waves reach for me, I start to sink in the quicksand of my emotions, being sucked under by the past. Bound—unable to swim; sinking into depression and despair. At times, the Lord sends others to swim along side of me to encourage me to keep swimming; but more so, Jesus Christ, my Savior, wants to see me unbound, free to swim over the surface of what tries to pull me down.

Learning to swim

He will Walk on Water

When our minds turn to depression/anger/bitterness/ apathy, we start to feel the weight of our past, our pain, the things that haven’t worked out. It’s too heavy, we are tempted to stop swimming and just sink. We look away from God and we start to go under. We are trying to swim with broken legs and twisted arms. If we are standing on the beach and we see our child or a friend struggling in the water, would we not rush out to help them? Of course! And God our Father does the same. If we cry out, He will walk on water to save us from sinking. But more so then save us from drowning this one time, He wants to teach us to keep our eyes on Him so we don’t sink; showing us how to navigate rough waters, to swim because He knows storms will arise often in our lives. While I want Him to remove me out of the water altogether and put me up on dry land, He knows the world we live in and that it will never stop trying to pull us out to the depths. In John 16:33, Jesus says, “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

The waves will roll over my head, the enemy will try to convince me to stop swimming. But the Lord, the Lord Almighty will teach me to swim. The Holy Spirit will buoy me, the Great Physician will heal me, the power of Christ will strengthen me. We will face my crippling hurts together and He will breathe new life into the dead parts of my soul. He will unshackle the weights the enemy has chained to my limbs, and teach me to use them again. I will keep my eyes ever on Him—reading His word to renew my mind and speaking His truth to my hurting spirit. I pray in the power that changes things, changes me; I try (in His power) to cast off the old weights and get my stride. It does not come easy, it is work. I’m fighting the current. But the more I immerse myself in the things of the Lord, the stronger I become. I can only write about this because I have lived it. I have been bound up and I have been set free. Matthew 11:28 says: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest! “ The ebb tide will never stop, but the difference now is that (in Him) I can navigate the rough waters—I can swim..

In what ways is the ebb trying to take you out? How are your limbs bound up?

What would it look if you let the Lord unwind the areas in your life that are twisted up?

Are you being called to help someone else learn to swim?

Drafts on Margins

Let’s see, do I have everything? Computer and cord, blanket scarf (in the unfortunate event air conditioning has turned a lovely fall day into the polar vortex), library book to return, shopping bags and list, Bible study (in case I get a few minutes in car line) and the snack bag (never forget the snack bag!). This is how I leave my house most days. I run from one thing to the next, always having to think three steps ahead. Do I have the notes for that meeting, the right shoes to get a work out in and enough food to get me through the next six hours? It’s a lot and as you can imagine, I often fall behind and have to call my next meeting and say I’m running late. I jam too much into a day and if one thing gets off track, the whole day is off-the-rails and I’m running, running, running!

Have you ever noticed how pages come with margins? That lovely clean space around the perimeter of the words so there aren’t letters or punctuation marks running right off the page and falling into the abyss. Margins offer a space to work that leaves a little room. Margins keep all the thoughts confined to the middle of the page. But perhaps the best part is that they leave room for mistakes. I make a lot of mistakes; how about you? I misjudge how long a conversation will take, what the expectations are, or I show up in the wrong shoes with the wrong attitude. Margins allow time to find parking and to take the long way round if the bridge is out. So, if I get a little lost or need to take a phone call, margins give built-in sidelines to my day—to my life, which gives me space for such things.

Am I Available?

Margins give us room to breathe. A few minutes to collect ourselves and the space to help others. More importantly, margins give room for God to use us. When I pack my day so tight, I’m not available for any assignments He may have for me. Maybe a conversations that starts out about the weather (a fav topic here in Michigan) takes a deeper turn and demands more time or maybe one of your kid’s friends asks for a ride home, but really it’s a divine appointment for prayer. If I don’t have any margins in my day for such things, I will miss out on what really matters. Is my goal to check off my to-do list? Or to bless people? Do I get up in the morning with the goal of turning out three loads of laundry, replying to work emails, and helping with the school play? (Surely these things need to be done.) Or is my goal to be available to those who may need me?

The other day at the grocery store, the checkout girl was new and young and she was struggling. I had built in extra time to go the store so I was able to be patient, but the woman behind me was loudly complaining about how slow the line was moving (I saw myself in this woman), but I just smiled kindly as the girl apologized for needing to repack my bags a couple times; she was going to need some encouragement to get her through the next client. I have to build margins into my day and hope others build margins into their days when I might . . . say, lock my keys in my car (and then my son’s piano teacher has to load up her 4 kids and mine and come get me at the post office and then drive me home to get the spare key and drive me back again!). So . . . I might need some big margins.

Creating White Space

Last week I talked about making time for kindness in our days: see Drafts on Kindness in Tiny Beads. I have been pondering just how does one build free moments into our hectic lives? There is no easy answer and it looks different for everyone depending on where we are in life. Perhaps getting up a little earlier than usual? One of my friend’s gets up at 5:00 a.m. to get her time with the Lord in before her children wake, and I believe she also gets in a whole pot of coffee (I mean—it is 5:00 a.m.!) To me that is a ridiculous time; clearly meant for sleep! But I guess we are all different. Of course, we can not stack our days so tight, perhaps spacing out meetings in case they run late (don’t they always?). If you have small children (or just any children or even a dog) getting ready to leave 20 minutes sooner so you have time for the lost shoe hunt, muddy paws, spilled juice on the one day you actually thought—maybe, just maybe, you could finally wear white again.

I just got a text about a playdate after school today; and while I did say yes, I put a hard border on the time. If I make it home by 5:00 p.m. instead of 5:30 p.m., that extra half hour margin will allow me to be a more patient mother at bedtime, which is most often when we have our best talks about God and life. (I’ll let you know how it goes . . .) Update** So, I did make it home around 5:00 p.m. and still felt crazy trying to get it all done; but when my son asked me later to read to him about the weird creatures in the Bible in Ezekiel, instead of being ridiculously past bedtime it was just sorta past bedtime—so I went for it. I was glad there was that little clean margin on my page for that conversation.

These are simple ideas, and I know there are just days that have no margins (and sometimes the Lord calls for our time when we feel we have no time to give). Yesterday, a friend texted me after her child threw a fit about having to wear pants to school and then they got in the car late to only realize she was completely out of gas. This is the type of day where the words are written right on to the edge of the page with no room to breathe. Maybe there is something you need to say no to in order to have more time in your life for God to work. My husband and I have had seasons of saying no to good and fun activities, like sports and sitting on the board of great nonprofits, because it just made our days spill off the pages. Things I would love to volunteer for or writing projects that I would be thrilled to take on, but knew it would just fill my days to capacity and I need (I think we all need) margins for the Holy Spirit to move.

I find when I don’t build space in my day, I get crazy, I have no patience, no time and I more than not end up with a headache that has me stuck at home anyway. I want to take it all in. I want to fill every second of my day with coffee dates, work projects, community events. I think of those old letters people used to write when paper and postage were expensive and they would literally fill ever inch with teeny-tiny writing, even on the envelope.

Does your life look like a Jane Austen letter?

But my eyes need a place to rest—white space, if you will. Gaps from the words of life to just not have to focus and think and try. Margins allow us to write postcripts to our day, underline and draw arrows out to the edges; making note of this or that, praying for this person or that person as the Lord lays it on our hearts. I know for me, I may need time to take an unexpected phone call. I may need time to comfort and encourage hurting people; taking note of what they are really saying and what they really need. I may need time to stay late and talk. Sometimes I need your margins and sometimes you need mine. I’m trying to keep clean edges on the pages of my day.

What does the Lord want to write in your margins?

Is there space for Him? Or have you filled your days tight like a Jane Austen letter?

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DRAFTS on The Time I Melted the Dog’s Face

Don't worry; this is not a post on housework. But it is about a time I tried ironing or also known as the time I melted the dog's face. There are many, many things I struggle with like the aforementioned housework; and then there are things I'm just plain bad at and ironing would fit into that category. But sometimes we are forced to do things we have no business doing. That is just life. The day of reckoning came for me when I dragged my six-year-old to the craft store while I picked out fabric for a project. As you will soon see, I'm no good at crafts either, so I was forcing my friend, Tracy, to make me a shower gift (I do this all the time) and in exchange I continue to be the Ethel to her Lucy. 

After an exhausting hour in the store, against my better judgment, I allowed my son to pick out a craft. He selected these things called Perler beads. The idea being that you take these beads and put them on a peg board to create something like a turtle or a cat. Then you iron the beads to melt them together. Easy— right!?

So, I unearthed my iron from the basement. As I plugged it in, my son, *Wolfy* asked what it was. Which makes sense because I had yet to iron anything in his lifetime. I replied that it was, in fact, an iron. He asked what one did with an iron and I said, “iron things”. He asked the next logical question: is it scary? And I answered: I think so. At that extract moment, the iron let out a hissing spray of steam like a medieval dragon and both my son and dog dove under the bed in pure fear! This is what happens when you don't iron regularly . . . or at all.

Once I tamed the beast and coaxed the team out from under the bed, I set to my task of ironing this beaded puppy. It must be stated here that my son was called puppy for at least two years, so the love for puppies is fierce. He had worked long and hard on his creation (because Perler beads are no joke) and my only job was to fuse it together with a little heat from the hissing dragon. Wolfy and Scout quickly left the room as I cranked it up all the way and laid it on the dog. When I pulled it away, it looked a little —well—perplexed. I sent Tracy a picture and she texted back: Awww, you melted it’s face.

Yup, I melted the dog's face. My dog, Scout, was not wrong to hide from the threat of a similar fate.

We all have things we struggle with, but can't get away from as parents, spouses, friends, employees and writers.

Fortunate for me, ironing doesn't come up very often, although my mom would argue that perhaps it should, but other things do—more important things. Perhaps forgiveness is hard for you or patience and when you are forced to pull these things out they are rusty and scary and quite frankly could melt a dog's face.

Maybe it’s a part of your job, such as being nice to rude people or maybe you are in a parenting stage that you are just plain bad at like having sympathy for teenage problems. Perhaps being happy for others who are achieving your dreams, when getting there yourself is proving difficult. 

This is great lighting, but this poor dog’s face is much more melted than it appears—we all love a good filter.

What is the "ironing" in your life? Is it something tangible like caring for an aging parent or is it something emotional like serving your boss who you feel should not be in charge of anything. I did go on to iron a turtle, a cat and another dog with varying degrees of success. No one who knows better, will be asking me to iron anything, but I can do it when life demands.   

Ironing aside, we are all asked to do hard things. Challenges we feel unequipped to handle. When we are naturally good at something we tend to do it in our own might; thinking, yes, I’m good at connecting with people or I’m trained for an emergency. But when something arises that is out of our wheel house we acutely feel the lack of our own abilities. It is in these moments that I have learned (often the hard way) to find strength in someone else, someone bigger than me — my personality, education, background — when I’m out of my element, I have to turn to the Lord. He tells us in His Word that our weaknesses are made perfect in His strength. Do we believe this? What does it look like when we live this way? I have to lean on Him to walk through the anxiety and fears that often accompany the areas of my life that make me want to pull the covers over my head.

Parenting asks so much of us, as does marriage or work. At times, demanding things we don’t feel able to give, but know we must. God does not ask us to go it alone. He says come to me, you who are tired and weary. Why does quitting sometime seems easier? Because I’m trying to do it on my own and I simply can not do it. Writing this blog forces me to talk about it, ask people to read and share it and that makes me want to cringe. It makes me want to quit. But I asked the Lord to bless my writing, to use my words to be an encouragement for the weary, a needed word or bright spot. It is only in His strength and not my feeble attempts that any good will grow out of these scattered seeds. Perhaps you feel this at your job or in a relationship, you feel the weight of doing it alone, when the Lord never asked this of us.

Write about something you tried to do in your own strength. How did it go? (Did you melt the dog’s face?) What would it look like if you tried to rely on God’s strength instead?

*This is my son’s chosen nickname, which I’m using for blogging purposes—but ironically one of my fav names growing up was Wolfgang and I distinctly remember my mom saying she hoped I would marry a man that would not let me name a child this. Ha! The Wolfgang name will be victorious. I don’t get this last sentence?? This last sentence is from my mom and it makes me laugh so hard I had to leave it in maybe nobody gets it but me(?)

Drafts on the Comments Section

I have been word-bombing blank pages with my thoughts since elementary school. The journal covers may have morphed from prancing horses and snuggling puppies to vintage travel with Jane Austen quotes, but the idea is the same—I need to write. I find putting pen to paper not only a way to organize my thoughts, but a form of therapy. As my emotions perch on the lines of the pages, I can look them square in the eye. In high school, I can remember writing so hard I ripped the paper (bc teenage feelings are that strong). Some words came carefully, as I tried to get them just right, and others poured out like a faucet, open at full tilt, left to overflow the sink and splash around on the floor.

As I grew older, I started writing pieces to share with others. I wrote poetry for my friends and short stories for class. Teachers and family encouraged me to pursue writing. I would work on stories for weeks before reading them aloud to my sisters. Their excitement over my characters and the dramatic and often tragic storylines would thrill me and encourage my writing. I learned that I didn’t want to just write in journals for myself, but I wanted to write for others. I started taking creative writing classes and reading books on the subject. After attending a writing conference I quickly realized this is what I wanted to do. College beckoned and I went on to earn a professional writing degree and started publishing my homework in magazines.

One of my favorite aspects of being an author is opening a notebook and letting others read my words. Like anyone in the arts, we don’t want our creation to stay tucked away in the studio, we want the world to see it and react. I have written pieces for others like a gift, the same way a potter fashions a cup or bowl with someone in mind. I have friends who cook or sew or make chocolate—I write words. Poems about friendships, articles about my mom’s love and short stories about my dad’s farm. This is an expression of gratitude. I want to see their reaction, like when we find the perfect gift for someone, we can’t wait for them to tear off the paper and see just what they mean to us.

When I started this blog, I really thought it would be mostly about writing and its brewdy sidekick, coffee. I had hoped to encourage writers, provoke ideas and share tips. I knew my faith would enter in at times because it is such a big part of me and my writing. After a handful of posts, with nods to my faith, it began to take a more prominent role, no longer watching from the wings, but stepping out into the spotlight. And it felt right, like that is where it belonged the whole time. Like when the star of the show gets laryngitis and the understudy has to go on and he is amazing! I love to write about publishing and little lessons from my life and will continue to do so, but I have felt that there is more to say. Like perhaps my writing is a form of worship, a love letter to my Lord. And I hope it comes across in my words. I don’t want to live a faith that leaves people wondering.

God did not leave us to wonder. He wrote a book for us so we could know Him. It’s an amazing love story! And like any good book, it has it all—humor, drama, adventure, loss and Redemption. God had His book commissioned—to be read; it has an eternal message we all need. I hand out business cards, post on social media and try to casually tell people in conversation that I have written something (not of Biblical proportions by any means!) but I would love it if they took the time to read my blog. The hope is that lots of people will read it and even more so, leave a comment!

Readers comments are the fruit of my labor. When someone takes the time to tell me what my writing meant to them personally, how it was just what they needed that day or that they shared it with a friend, I’m overjoyed. All the hard work feels worthwhile. I try hard to not have high expectations, for it’s a slow process and I’m figuring it out one hurdle at a time. Which brings me to a recent post I wrote and how it had no comments, not one! I was rather disappointed. Perhaps it wasn’t that great of a post; blogging is such a different thing than writing articles for magazines. Blogs are just quick shots of life, not poured-over manuscripts for which someone thought worthy of pay. I assumed it just wasn’t a comment-worthy piece until I realized I hadn’t turned on the comments section!

This got me thinking about how often I feel that God isn’t speaking to me. I’m praying, asking for answers and guidance and if feels like He stays silent. But have I turned on my comments section? Am I looking for the answers in the right place? God has authored a book and as it turns out, many of the answers I’m looking for are in the pages of His Word—God’s comments section, if you will. If we want to hear God speak we must turn on the “comments section” by opening up our Bibles. Something I have not always done. In my younger years of being a Christian, I did not read my Bible very often and I wondered why God was so quiet. Turned out He had plenty of notes and suggestions, if I cared to read it.

Once I realized I had not turned on the comments section of my blog post, it all made sense. Of course, I wasn’t going to hear anything! I have always wished I could get an audible response from God or even if He wanted to write me a letter—I would wait by the mailbox everyday! Well, He did write me a letter - I just need to turn on the comments section or better known as “opening up” His Word. Of course, God speaks to us in other ways, in our spirit and through His followers as we are His hands and feet (“Now then we are ambassadors for Christ…” 2 Cor 5:20a). He often sends someone to encourage or redirect us. I have sat across many a café table from someone lamenting that they just wish they could know the truth. I love to say God sent me to tell you to turn on your comments section. He is Truth . . . and He has so much to say.

Have you ever been confronted by something you journaled, perhaps putting those thoughts on paper made you examine them in a different light?

If you have journals, look through some old musings and write about how your feelings have changed.

Are you looking for answers when you haven’t turned on your comments section?