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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The Hitch

Before there were parking spots there were hitching posts. You would ride your horse into town for say bonnets and holsters and other cowboyish things. You would circle the dusty block a few times looking for a good spot to park your horse. Hitching posts were set up in front of dry good stores, the sheriff’s office and saloons so you could tie up your four-legged ride and he wouldn’t wander off.

From the horse’s point of view, the hitching post was a stop in the journey. One minute you are galloping along with the wind in your mane and then, boom, you are roped to a stake in the ground and you aren’t going anywhere. You are quite literally tied to a post with nothing more to do then watch the tumbleweeds blow by until your cowboy (or cowgirl) comes back to untie your reins.

Do you ever feel like this in your spiritual journey? You are running along, reading the Bible, learning God’s truth, trying to apply it and then you come to a screeching halt and you find yourself tied to a hitching post. You can’t seem to move forward.

So many things can act as a hitching post in our lives:

Time (I’m so busy now - when can I ever find time to read and study the Bible?)

Desire (I would rather do other things.)

Struggles (Life is in survival mode; I don’t have time to sit with the Lord.)

Disappointments (I have tried investing in faith and been left hurt or wanting.)

There are many reasons we may find ourselves at a standstill in our faith. I have at times found myself lost in the canyons of doubt or stumbling on a narrow precipice; hearing the coyotes howl late at night and wondering if I will make it home safe. These times in our faith can be scary and discouraging. Yet, I will attest to their importance in our lives.

Over the years I have hit many a hitching post. So many challenges have come against my faith. Big posts and small ones. Like the big questions: Is the Bible all true? Why does God allow pain and suffering? And the smaller ones - like not spending time in the Word or isolating from Godly friends.

I have spent long seasons at some of these posts. Not moving forward. Stuck! (Usually because I did not want to do the work to figure out the answer.) Questions of belief and a worldview that eventually need answering. I’m often uncomfortable with these spots. How do I find the answers? What if I don’t like the answers? So there I remain.

Are you tied to a post right now in your journey?

Do you struggle to believe God’s promises apply to you?

Perhaps you can’t understand how a supposedly loving God allows so much pain in the world?

Maybe you don’t think your past can really be forgiven.

Until we come to terms with some of these types of questions, we can’t really move forward.

Spiritually, we are stuck at that post.

What do you need to figure out in order to move forward in your faith?

I have found that if we don’t spend too much time stuck on a hitch, it can actually be a time of growth. I want answers to those questions. The understanding that comes out of spending time in pursuit of them is actually very valuable. My faith is enriched, my witness is stronger and my ministry has more depth just because I spent time wrestling with these questions. The key is the wrestling part not just watching the tumbleweeds blow by . . .

Other posts that I find myself tangled up on are ones I need to just fight against. Making time to invest in my faith. Forcing myself to be in community when I just want to stay under the covers or buried at my desk. Speaking truth instead of giving into the lie in my head—before I start believing The Enemy.

What is your hitching post right now? Is it big one that has you completely stuck or just a series of small stops?

What can you do to move forward?

Start by praying. Ask the Lord to help you understand His ways. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct they paths. (Pr. 3:5-6) Ask for wisdom. For the Lord giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding. (Pr. 2:6) Next start researching. Chances are wherever you are are stuck, somebody else has been stuck there as well, and perhaps they have written a book or recorded a podcast. Ask a trusted friend who seems to be solid in their Biblical knowledge. Once I started searching, I found a plethora of resources and over time, I curated a list of go-to websites or authors to consult when trying to get past a hitching post.

It’s really important to be in the Word of God while seeking answers. The Lord speaks to us through the Bible. I never cease to be amazed at how the Holy Spirit brings all things together. (See 1 Cor. 2:10) Sometimes it’s years later and other times, it’s that very day! I will keep hearing a same verse or a similar concept from several sources. When I first started studying the Armor of God (Eph. 6:11-18), it kept coming up everywhere—in the books I was reading, in conversations, in the Bible verses that just happened to be be my daily reading and on my preset radio station. Out loud, I ask God questions (usually in my car) and then I wait to see when and how He will answer. The more I’m engaged in seeking, the more avenues I have open to hearing an answer. What am I reading? Listening to? Talking about? Who am I hanging out with?

Don’t stay tied to that hitching post!

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Drafts on the Ordinary Life

I wear my great-grandmother Gertrude’s (this name makes me smile) wedding band on my ring finger. It is simple. Just a silver band. Very plain. Nothing anyone would notice or comment on. I actually have a rather eye-catching diamond ring sitting in my jewelry box at home, that I haven’t worn in years, opting for Grandma Gert’s ring instead. Sometime after having my son, I just found the simpleness of it better suited.

The ring dates from June 26, 1923! I know this because the exact date is etched on the ring. My great-grandfather, Robert, gave her this ring with their initials and wedding date carved inside. You see, from the outside, it looks like a perfectly ordinary, some would even say boring silver band. But if you could see inside, you would say that’s where the beauty is—hidden away. In flowery script, an important date between two important people (at least to my family) is memorialized.

How sweet to wear a great-grandmother’s ring. To know this tiny piece of jewelry was exchanged under vows by two souls that would later be responsible for producing my family (who just so happens to be some of my favorite people) is a lovely thought. I never met my great-grandma, Gertrude. We did not walk this earth at the same time; and yet, I carry a little piece of her with me everyday. It is quietly etched into the most unassuming piece of jewelry I own.

I also know some very unassuming people. They are just ordinary, everyday people. They have jobs like teachers or nurses or data analysts. They have ordinary families with the regular ups and downs; the kid that hits a home run, the dog that digs up the garden—again, the marriage on the back burner as they care for an elderly parent or whatever. Just life. Nothing eye-catching. Nothing that would make someone stop mid-conversation and say your life sounds amazing. Nobody is asking to see their plain silver band in the way you would a precious gem. Their lives don’t look like diamonds. The sun doesn’t catch on facets of their life and sparkle and dazzle all those around.

Besides, we tend to romanticize our dream job, our ideal family, that perfect trip. And, yes, these things have their moments. The promotion at work, the book deal, the vineyard wedding and the sleeping baby all have their thrill. I have had some of my own big moments—drinking coffee in Paris and seeing my first article in print! And even the everyday joys are such blessings. I delight in my friendships and in laughing with my husband and seeing my child love literature as much I do; it adds such sweetness to life. But honestly, in this season of my life, the thrilling moments are nestled in deep between just a lot of ordinary living.

Do you feel this way?

Is there just so much ordinary?

Do you feel like a plain silver band, that no one would notice?

And yet, when we become children of God, we are immediately taken out of the ordinary and remade into the extraordinary. Our plainness is transformed into breathtaking beauty, but it all takes place on the inside. Just like my ring, a very important script is written on our soul: “You are mine.” The day we say “yes” to our Lord and Savior, He claims us as His own. He immediately sets out to change us. He takes our plainness, our ordinariness and etches truth in a beautiful font upon our hearts.

So someone passing us on the street won’t stop and say, “wow, you sure are special!” And yet, if they sat with us, shared a cup of coffee and a deep conversation, they would see we are different than just the plain silver band they took us for. We are full of light. We have exchanged our heart of stone for a heart of flesh. We are like-minded with Christ and Holy Spirit led, or at least striving for these things.

When I look down at Gertrude’s ring, it does not impress me. When I look around at my life it also often fails to impress. It looks like a lot of laundry to do that will just need to be done again and again, vacuuming up dog hair that collects everyday and stacking tea cups in the dishwasher. And then there’s lunches to make, spelling words to go over, fights over screen time and who is going to walk the dog? And don’t even get me started on dinner (pasta again?). We cut the lawns, fix broken furnaces, shovel driveways and change light bulbs and I could yawn at the mundaneness of it all.

I have to remove Gertrude’s ring to be able to read the inside and see its worth. It actually wow’s me—really, when I take the time to read the inside; it’s beautiful! I have to look at the inside of my life to be impressed, as well. Behind all that cleaning and shopping and driving, behind work meetings and endless emails to be answered, behind the is-this-all-there-is thinking and there-has-to-be-more wondering is something special for the Christian.

God has written it on our hearts; He has made us special. We have been called out of darkness into His marvelous light.

We have been selected as special. We are an off-menu dish, the collection kept in the back room, let into the VIP area sorta special. You can’t tell from the outside. But we are called by God to work for Him. We have been bestowed with gifts and prayer power to change the very fabric of this world. Once we choose to follow Christ, He points directly at us and says, “I have a job for you.”

“Who me?” We look around, surely He is talking to someone else.

The guy over there with overflowing charisma or that woman with all the money and connections. Sure God could really use their lives, but not mine; did you hear about the laundry I have to do?

“Yes, you,” He says again.

Some people shake their heads and just walk away; I have nothing to offer, I think you have the wrong guy. Others say I don’t want that job, to raise these kids, work at that office, live there? I want something more exciting - with travel and covered business expenses. I don’t want a special needs child or a challenging marriage; I don’t want a ministry where I have to talk to people. What else do ya got?

But you are special. He has a special job just for you.

The Lord has been doing a work in me (in you). At times I think my life is just plain hard, but what if all this struggle in life is actually a training ground. Some of us have been training hard! Those issues in our thought life, with that parent, the guy at work. Yup. Training. So, when God calls us to encourage, help, pray, teach, admonish (gulp), we have already practiced. (Perhaps failed.) And practiced again.

Once we become a child of God, we are no long ordinary. Our struggles are no longer commonplace. And our responses are no longer typical. We have the Word of God hidden on our hearts, prayers on our lips and eyes for eternity. While we walk this earth we may look like plain silver bands, but there has been a promise written on our hearts and one day we will be like precious stones.

Perhaps you are going through a season or a whole life of really hard blows. And you are thinking, I would love some ordinary. Well, not only will the Lord take our ordinary, He will take our down right awful and use it for His glory.

To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.

Isaiah 61:3 kjv

Don’t let the enemy make you feel small or plain; your worth has been etched on you by the very finger of God. Even better: Your name is written on the palm of His hands (Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands. . . Isa 59:16a). So when Satan tries to whisper in your head that you don’t matter or your life is too small or too ordinary, he is just worried. He doesn’t want you to use your God-given gifts to bring glory to the Lord. so he is trying to bury them in the everyday tedium of life. But your prayers are just as effective from a dark basement apartment as from the mountain tops. You can read Scripture over a cluttered coffee table, the same as over a still, blue lake.

You, my Christian friend, are anything but ordinary!

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How does Your Garden Grow?

I was sitting out in the backyard trying to write; it’s been a real struggle (more on that later). Perhaps you have noticed the lack of blog posts? My backyard is cute, although a little on the unkempt side, but with a small tree growing in the middle of the patio and built-in benches, it has great potential. If someone was more inclined, it could be quite lovely, but I have let it go pretty wild. That is until my son listened to the audio version of The Secret Garden six times in a row (I’m not even exaggerating), so now, naturally, he is all into gardening. I’m more of the let your yard go natural (or wilding) as I like to call it; spell check, however, does not agree that this is a thing.

Thanks to The Secret Garden (which I wish had stayed more of a secret) my son, in cahoots with my mother, is trying to tame our outside space. All on his own, he started weeding and watering “things” in the backyard. My mother was completely impressed with his initiative and promised to come over with a car full of actual plants. I have lost track of all the new additions: six potted plants (in teal to match my doors), ground cover and ferns galore. We (I have helped) have tilled, dug, planted and watered. How much work it is to get things back into order! My backyard, like my heart, wants to run wild.

Entropy (also known as the second law of thermodynamics) is what happens when we do nothing. Order runs to disorder. This is clearly evident in my backyard. When we moved in eight years ago the garden was lovely. Colorful flowers in oranges and purples broke up the lush greens, Hostas ran along the fence and the rocks were all in their proper places next to the house. It was picture perfect. And each spring I did mostly nothing and incidentally, each spring less flowers appeared. Over time the hostas completely died out! I blame the dog. Holes started appearing in my once flawless lawn (for which I also blame the dog). Weeds grew as big as small bushes (I somehow want to also blame this on the dog.)

In short, doing nothing resulted in our cute, cultivated landscaping going back to its natural state. Wild! Slowly at first. All the hard work someone had done held up for a few years, but eventually and almost completely, it fell into decline. I think one flower came up this year (until my dog laid on it, for clearly this was the best place in all of the yard to lay). This makes me think of the state of my spiritual life. I have spent seasons doing the ground work. Breaking up the hard rocky earth of my heart. Digging out lies that I started to believe in my rebellious and young adulthood. Daily watering seeds of truth and being rewarded with flowers and eventually fruit. Painful but necessary pruning of my once held beliefs about God were plucked out as I spent time in the Bible. More growth and more increase as long as I put the work in.

But then there would be dry seasons.

Times where I’m paying more attention to the world than reading my Bible.

I’m complaining more than praying.

Fears would start to sprout around the good fruit of my faith. I would complain and worry more than I would pray. Irritating, prickly thistles make themselves right at home among carefully cultivated flowers of peace and patience. Unlike weeds which seems to pop up without any help, the fruits of the spirit are hard won. I do not naturally go towards love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness and self control (Gal 5:22). I have to get dirty, break a sweat and carefully water these plants almost daily in hopes of a yield. Yet, it just takes one stressful day at work, a differing of opinions or my check engine light coming on and weeds start sprouting up all over the place. I don’t have time for this and pop there is a thorn trying to choke out one of my fruits of the spirit. This is too much work, I’m sick of trying.

I have struggled to write these last few months. I have thought, what is the point? Have you struggled to parent? Work? Clean? Even care? Did you, like me, take in more of the world than the Word? A root of hopelessness took hold, slowly at first but then it gained ground and started to cut off my vine of joy and then my peace and slowly all my fruit started to have spots and then worms. I no longer had fresh, sweet fruit from which to eat to sustain my faith. I was instead chewing on weeds, which are bitter and empty of nutrients. My writing dried up.

Earlier this week, I told my son he should water his plants. He got out the hose and started making his way around the yard. As he turned the corner on the house to soak the ferns, the hose got stuck. I was working on the patio and I watched him start to struggle. He was pulling and pulling on the hose and it was getting more and more stuck. Instead of going back to see what the trouble was he had wrapped himself up in the hose to get more leverage and pulled with all his body weight. I yelled to him to stop! “It’s only going to get worse if you keep pulling”, I told him. “You have to go back and see where you got hung up.” From my vantage point, I could see that the hose was stuck on his bike, which was getting pulled into the wagon and was about to topple over one of the yard games. The more he pulled on it the more damage ensued.

I was instantly annoyed, but quickly saw the analogy. When something gets stuck in my faith, I want to just pull at it, hoping it will pop free. I don’t want to walk back to the other side of the house and see what is going on. As I became fearful, depressed and irritated over the last few months, I wanted to just pull free of these feelings. I didn’t want to examine why I was feeling these things on such a deep level. Sure our emotions get stuck on things—that child that won’t listen, a fight with our spouse, the car won’t start, the check didn’t come. But the deeper things, the hopelessness, the oppression that won’t let up; that’s when my thought life becomes tangled up in something solid. It is caught on a bike and a wagon and unless we go back and untangle it, the knots will only get tighter until eventually the water supply is cut off.

It was planted in a good soil by great waters, that it might bring forth branches, and that it might bear fruit, that it might be a goodly vine.

Ezekiel 17:8

Good plants need water and if the watering hose is caught in my doubt and disbelief, they will shrivel up and die. I often struggle with where God is in my pain. I find myself wondering if He cares. Does He see what is happening? My weeds of fear and worry seem to need no tending. This is as old as the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve lived in a perfect backyard. Fruit aplenty, communion with God as easy as a walk on a shady trail. No stony ground, no bugs eating away at the berries, and they didn’t even need a watering can. Everything grew easily without effort.

Yet, when this first couple decided to eat of the forbidden fruit, their days of ease (and ours) were over. Their choice led to the great responsibility of knowing good and evil. We, today, walk in that garden; one that sprouts weeds and thorns more readily than fruit. Where communion with God is easily choked out by the cares of this world—the bikes and the wagons and all the stuff that gets in the way—the more we pull at it the more entangled we become.

My son had to walk back and carefully, thoughtfully figure out how to unhook the garden hose from his things. In the same way that I have to walk back in my thought life, in my actions and see where I got hung up.

Do I care about this world too much?

Was I making this my “forever home,” when in essence, I’m just passing through?

Did I start to think the here and now is what matters most?

My comforts and my happiness so often get tangled in my “things.” I need to look good, feel good, have nice things and enjoy life to be in a good spot. When ultimately, my faith should be sure no matter what my life looks like. In good times and in bad times, like the Apostle Paul says, my faith should remain constant. My emotions won’t of course, but my faith must be on solid rock, so the storms of life won’t toss it about.

He only is my rock and my salvation; He is my defence; I shall not be greatly moved.

Psalm 62:2

What are my weeds of doubt and sorrow, but too much love for my life and my comforts? What is the worst that would happen? My way of life is threatened; my actual life is threatened? These are scary thoughts to my flesh, but they should not be to my spirit. My spirit is not made for this life. It is bound for the next—it is heaven-bound. No sickness or loss of freedom or devastation can take that from me.

We must work hard to keep our garden in order or it will quickly fall into entropy.

What does this look like for you?

For me it’s time spent alone with the Lord. Sitting in my garden in the morning before I start the day. I breathe Him in by reading the Word and and exhale His truth through my prayers.

I minister to others and let others minister to me. (I ask for others to cover me in prayer.)

I listen to teachings and ask to be lead by the Holy Spirit.

At times my flesh feels that these things are not enough, but my spirit longs for them, knowing they are the transforming of my soul.

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Drafts on the New To-Do List

Today, I came across an old to-do list. It included signing my son up for golf lessons and for art camp for the summer. It made me pause. Will our near future include sports or group activities? I was planning to attend a writing conference next month, one that I had been looking forward to for two years. It is indefinitely postponed, just like the rest of our lives. Pending. Waylaid. Held up. My packed calendar, dotted with coffee dates and meetings and deadlines is now all null and void. I’m not even attempting to reschedule, which is perhaps the most disheartening part. There is no real end in sight.

My once full calendar in now startlingly empty. As if someone took it and dumped it upside down and time scheduled for friends, work, school activities, group Bible studies and writing in a bustling coffee shop all came tumbling out and slipped away. . . just like that. One day I was worried about having enough time and then seemingly overight, wondering what to do with all the extra time.

The New Normal

While none of us have experienced an almost nation-wide quarantine, many of us have had our lives changed overnight. I know I have. More than once. Sometimes we see it coming. Perhaps a move or a divorce or a sick loved one. We know change is coming. It’s not always bad either. A marriage, a baby, a new career path. Our lives are one thing and then the next day they are another. The sudden changes are the most shocking. A few years ago, I had texted about plans with one of my best friends for later that day—but later that day, I would be standing next to her hospital bed. I never got the chance to talk with her again. It all happened so breathtakingly fast.

Perhaps you have had something sudden like this in your life? You have found yourself looking around and saying, now what? What does my life look like going forward? How do I pick up the pieces or find my new normal? How do I rebuild?

Changing Roles

Our lives have been changed almost overnight. All the liberties we’ve enjoyed; so thanklessly gone. School and work to now be conducted from the walls of our homes. So many of us woke finding our roles changed from homework helpers to full-time teachers in a live-in school where nobody ever leaves. We wade through history lessons and confusing math problems, pretending to know obscure elementary English grammar rules, while secretly looking up plural possessives. I have great ideas of writing a book or organizing the junk drawer that doesn’t even really open anymore. And yes, I have seen your posts online—quarantine day 2: organized all my closets; quarantine day 3: taught the kids to play the mandolin and grow our own sweet basil. Yet, I feel like showering and making the bed is a win for the day.

Sudden change brings out different sides in all of us. Many of you will rise to the occasion and color coordinate your homeschool folders, while my dog has walked over ours with muddy feet at least 3 times now (and I write little sorry notes to the teacher in the margin). But I’m sorry about so much more than a muddy dog print. I’m sorry I’m not a teacher or an organizer; I’m sorry I’m not using this forced time at home to achieve more around my home or write a book (although there still may be time). Apparently, not having enough time was not the real problem.

What is on your new to-do list?

As more and more is stripped away, I find there is less and less to distract me from what I really should be doing; and it’s not teaching or writing or cleaning or even panicking. It’s seeking God. Long prayers where I lay it all out—the way I do on coffee dates with girlfriends. Time spent in study, deep study where I doggedly sniff out the meaning layered in the ancient words. And just time at His feet, waiting for healing in my heart and direction in my life. Who is God? Where is He in this? How is it with my whole city shut down, basically my life outside of this house, that I’m still distracted from doing what I need to do? Somehow I’m still focused on the wrong things. God says. . . Know Me. Trust Me. But I’m distracted by my worry of what this all means.

The last year or so I have spent my mornings in prayer. This is the one part of my pre-quarantine life I have held onto (it surely isn’t a normal bedtime). My prayers have gotten noticeably longer. More requests tacked on to the end til the appendix is as long as the book itself. I pray for all eight of our parents by name (and my grandparents); I mention my friends one by one, lining them up before me with their specific needs during this time. I ask for stability in a space that feels like it could easily tip. I ask that we will be extra sensitive to the leading of the Holy Spirit—pray for this person (maybe even call them); tell us where we can go and where not to go. Help me listen to the still small voice in new ways. I pray for our leaders, our decision makers. I pray that fear will not drive us (me), but that we will have a peace and trust in God almighty.

Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.

Psalm 143:8

Is your Bible worn with good use?

Life can change without any notice. We prepare for a life of singleness and meet someone. We build our forever home and have to move. We meet new friends we weren’t even looking for and we say goodbye to people we thought would always be there. What is that saying? “The only constant in life is change.” Will this generation ever look at a fever and cough the same way? Will we at times stop and look at full grocery store aisles and think what a beautiful sight. I believe gathering with friends will feel less like an everyday activity and more like something special.

Uncovered Idols

I have been studying the books of Kings and seeing how Israel turned its back on God and chased after other gods. What gods have we chased as a nation? What have I chased personally? Is this a time of calling us back? A time of taking away our idols? Sports. Beauty. Money. Success. Family. I have sat in the dark of my bedroom and asked God to show me where I have gone astray. Where is my heart off? Where have I let things creep in? I believe the world is (has) changed in a very fundamental way and I want to emerge from this time ready for what awaits. I pray that I will “hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering . . . “ and that it will keep me steadfast and rooted. I think more will be asked of me. More confidence in what the Word of God says, more boldness in my life and quick, ready answers for those who ask, why I follow God’s words.

I hope in many ways this does change me. That it teaches me to trust in the Lord more. I found my weak spots in this very quickly. How about you? I read the Word and I pray like I mean it (because I do), but yet worry sneaks in like a tick, unnoticed. It digs in deeper each day trying to poison my faith. I need to treat it like the invasive demon bug that it is. I need to pluck it out with cold, hard tweezers. With precision and purpose, dropping everything else I’m doing and dig it out before it causes real and lasting damage.

What do you need to go after?

What is God calling you to during this time?

Know His Word.

Pray like it changes things.

Teach your kids (family/friends) the most important homeschool lesson of all.

Minister to others.

Who will you be after all this is over? The same or someone different?

Drafts on Christmas Lights

Christmas is such a unique time of year. As a kid it’s so intense, mostly about the gifts (let’s be real), but also, all the special things like decorating cookies and twinkling lights and watching favorite movies while snuggled up in red plaid pajama sets. Yet, as I entered my teens and young adult years, it lost some of its charm; I couldn’t quite get those old feelings back. The lights were not quite as bright and the wreath cookies not quite as sweet. The pressure to find the right gifts and fit in all the events started to feel like a chore. As a parent, I get to enjoy the wonder of it all again (but this time on the other side-the work side). The wonder isn’t going to put up its own lights or remember whose gift is in which identically wrapped box after the dog eats the tags off.

As a child of divorce, your lack of not being able to do it all and be everywhere is never felt as deeply as at Christmas; although in retrospect, it was good practice for marriage. The minute I told my Grandma I was engaged to my husband, she blurted out, “I get Christmas Eve” . . . it was July. We still talk about how smart that was. We were too distracted by wedding venues to realize we should probably add a disclaimer, but my husband congenially agreed. Guess where we go every Christmas Eve? (I’m taking notes.) No matter what your arrangement, you can never be in enough places or bring enough gifts or food. Because the thing with Christmas is, that it highlights what you are good at and what you are bad at. My mom can wrap a gift so that the wrapping is the gift, where I just gave a friend a gift with the price tag still on (it was on sale) so at least she knows I can find a good bargain.

While I’m beyond blessed with family and lavished in blessings, I am at the same time more keenly aware of the brokenness that many may feel during this season. The losses are felt in a more profound way this time of year. The strings of white lights reflect not only the awe and magic, but also the loss and heartache. The people that are missing, the fractured relationships, the pushed down depression or anger or bitterness that may surface in the cold air of December. Like Charles Dickens’ famous line “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” Christmas for many of us can be a tale of two Christmases The joy of eggnog by a fire with those we love and trying to smile while Aunt Claire asks you why you aren’t married, have children, or didn’t bring more dinner rolls or Uncle Clyde asks if you have been promoted, published your book or if you would like to hear about his eczema issues (just kidding he doesn’t ask).

Unlikely of Places

As the holidays approach, most likely you are being asked to contribute or attend an event, that although you will show up (with cookies) your heart isn’t right. Perhaps there are family members that are difficult (see eczema story), maybe you feel judged or unappreciated? Holiday gatherings can bring out old insecurities and emotions we thought long buried. We revert back to our childhood roles that are just not who we are anymore. Frustrations, jealousy and misunderstandings may float through our heads as we drive to parties and stay to dance around our conversations. The enemy wants us at our worst during these times. He wants us ineffective and distracted, and while it can be lovely to chat about the job and kids and how amazing the tree looks, maybe there is someone that needs to hear something deeper. Maybe a hot cocoa in a comfy corner by the fire can lead to healing words over a deep struggle. When our hearts are right, the Lord can use us, even in the most unlikely of places.

When we feel warm and fuzzy over Christmas, it’s easy to think everyone feels this same way. After all isn’t that what we see as the cards start to arrive, lining our windowsills—smiling faces looking back in holiday cheer. Isn’t everyone enjoying the parties and shopping and looking forward to the day of being reunited around a tree? What we don’t see in the cards are the sleepless nights over our jobs, anxiety over grades, the toll of finances and the health issues yet shared. We see the good, as it should be, but also not the whole truth. I’m trying not to be fooled into thinking everyone one else is problem-free this season.

I wrote an article years ago on what goes on behind a photoshoot; all the people at work to make that one picture look perfect. Fake hair, fake eyelashes, fake food and computer generated images make models and homes look flawless. I myself have modeled in these shoots and there is not only a small army of professionals styling each set, but also liberal airbrushing to catch any possible flaws. When I look at Christmas cards, I enjoy the adorable children and creative settings, but I try not to think that they have it all together; especially, as I look around my house, at tinsel waiting to get stuck in my vacuum and I still can’t find the O from my silver letters that spell NOEL. (My son keeps asking what NEL means!) I’m behind on shopping, decorating and baking (i.e. buying random things to bring to parties because I can’t remember what I signed up for). Quite obviously, I do not have a team of stylists working on my Christmas card setting (which I’m actually not sending for the third year in a row).

I’ve decided with the house lights off and the Christmas tree lights on, that it looks almost pretty—but those lights also cast shadows. I gathered with some of my best friends last week to celebrate, but one of us is missing (she went to heaven two years ago). I miss her so much and when we are all together, I feel like I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering who is missing from the table. As we shared salted rosemary bread and warm cookies, we also shared our loss. While I gather with family and friends, I’m overwhelmed with my love for these people. The Lord has been healing my heart with hope of knowing this life isn’t all there is and I will see those who have gone ahead, especially, my sister (who has been in heaven far longer then she walked this earth). I have mostly known life without her, but I still feel her absence more keenly at these times of emphasized togetherness. I, also, long to sit again on my grandma’s bed and tell her all my problems or ride one more time with my grandpa on a sulky, training a young race horse.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord!

The first nativity wasn’t this polished

As I smile for pictures by the tree lights, know that I’m happy and blessed, that I love eating snowman-shaped cookies and watching you open my haphazardly wrapped gift. The Lord is filling my longings with promise and as I look at my nativity set, I know that He, the Christ Child, came to suffer & die for mankind. He is lit by the glow of my tree in this moment; however, He was not in a polished glass manger scene, but in a dirty, smelly stone cave. It was most likely not well-lit, or warm or comfortable, but yet He brought the gospel of peace (“He restoreth my soul”). He would start His life on the run from men that wanted to kill Him, yet would not be angry. He would be called out of Egypt to a humble life, strikingly void of any grandeur, yet He would not be bitter. He is a King, but came as a servant. He was born, so that He might die. He gave all, so that we might gain everything.

The tree lights pale in comparison to my Saviour’s light. He illuminates all my blessings and all my faults, all my efforts and all my failures. He promises to be the strength in my weakness, the grace in my failures, the joy in my soul and He uses everything for His purpose. He is no longer a helpless babe in a manger, but God come in the flesh. He has known hunger and betrayal and deep loss, He knew His purpose and never looked for the easy road, He did not seek an earthly treasure, but one that does not rust. This time of year as the twinkling lights dance in the darkness, I’m in awe that even the tiniest of lights can be seen. I can be a little light in someone’s struggle because His light shines though me and perhaps brightest through my pain. A string of lights during the day goes unnoticed; it is in the darkness that they really shine.

**update: The missing O from NOEL has been found and returned to its rightful place!

What do the tree lights illuminate for you this time of year?

How can you be a light in someone’s darkness?

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 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?

Drafts on Smuged Windows

The window next to my front door is always covered in nose prints. If you have read my earlier post, you will know that my dog, Scout, is always very concerned by what is happening on the other side of the door and the evidence of his curiosity (some would say obsession) is always very apparent on the windowpane. So I often find myself cleaning this window. I spray it down and clear away the doggy nose prints so I can see out the glass again. It looks good, sparkly and clean, transparent for about thirty minutes. Sometimes I think, why do I bother? This window will always be smudged. Yet, if I don’t keep up on this task, it will get worse and worse, layer upon layer, until my natural chemical-free cleaner won’t do the trick and I might have to bust out a stronger version to cut through the grime.

One day, as I polished the window—yet again, I was struck with how this window is like me. I get smudged and tainted by life; I can start the day off fairly sparkly, but I leave the house late, forget my phone charger, catch every red light and I already have a layer of grime. It doesn’t take much to mess up a windowpane, but then add that next layer - just one longing look at something I don’t have (in Scout’s case a squirrel) in mine, a book deal or a professional cleaning service - and my view is dirtied. I press my nose to the window and think I need more to be happy. But the reality is that if I had the book deal, then I would want the book to sell well, and if I had a cleaning person, then I would want a cook, which would lead to a gardener (and frankly, I don’t have room for that much staff in my house). In short, it would never be enough.

I have lots of aspirations, and I’m working towards many of them right now. Starting this blog was a dream I had for years. I sat with my nose to the window forever, envisioning my own website, a place to write what was on my heart, things I have learned—little shots of life. It brings me great joy to string words together, to craft them into ideas that can move through the world on their own. I have worked hard to pull it all together, and many people supported me and walked along side me to make it happen. My husband’s unfailing encouragement, my friend, Cordelia, who helped me build the site and ultimately pushed the button to just go live (I would still be trying to make it perfect), my cousin of Lighttighttank has done amazing photo shoots to make my vision come to life and my mom has bestowed her gift of editing and insight on my pieces. And just as important, YOU, my reader (with bonus points for sharing). I spend time praying, thinking, typing, reading and rereading. And, then, I press my nose to the window and I want more. Like all of us, I want to be acknowledged, loved, told I matter and rewarded for my hard work.

Sometimes we send little pieces of ourselves out there and it comes back void. As a writer, I often experience rejection. In the publishing world we have a saying—it’s not rejection, but redirection. I have had lots of “redirection” in my life. How about you? Sometimes instead of pulling back and looking at how far I have come, I look out the window and stare at what I want. The window fogs up and I have a hard time seeing past the condensation. I get in my head and ponder what it is I think I need; what is supposedly keeping me from finding happiness. There will always be another squirrel to chase. And if there is anything I know about squirrels, it’s that there are lots of them. I have a lot of dreams, some are big and exciting and others are small and simple. I want my words to matter on a big scale, but I also want to drink amazing coffee out of beautiful cups. Both these things make me very happy. The first one takes lots of time and patience, where as, the coffee is very obtainable.

I’m doing a project on myself right now, where I really take the time to appreciate my blessings. This means pulling away from the window for a time, to enjoy a homemade scone or marvel that I live in beach town or to simply be enthralled with the slice of heaven that is having hot water on demand. The more I think like this the more my selfishness, envy and self-pity is chased away. It does a good work on my soul to contemplate how very different my life could look like if I had been born in a different time or place, without all the luxuries I so often thoughtlessly enjoy. There is a time to look out the window and dream, but if I do it too much, the window gets covered in longings and what-ifs. Sometimes the door is flung open and we get to run after our hearts’ desires. But just as often the door remains shut and the Lord says this is not for you now, but look at what you have already - '“for with Thee is the fountain of life”. Human nature is so prone to want what we don’t have, to want more instead of less and to think what another has is better than what I have.

I don’t want to fall into the trap of spending all my time staring out the window when life is happening around me. I may not be able to have a weekend getaway with my husband, but we can share small plates on a sunny rooftop bistro in our hometown; after all not everyone has someone special to split a goat cheese crostini with. I spend a lot of time driving my child around to lessons and sports and friends’ houses, but we get a lot of time in the car to pray, we do our best praying in the car. Writing is hard and its doesn’t pay well, but it’s portable, so I can do it from quaint little coffee shops. What could your sentences say about your life, relationships and your faith? Where are you spending time looking for something more, when you are missing all that is right before you?

I want to look out clear windows and see a reflective glass not marred with smudges. As I wipe off my old way of thinking it floats in the air and clings to the surfaces of my life and it has to be swiped away. Just as our bodies are constantly shedding and regenerating, so must our minds be renewed. “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind”. (Rom 12:2a) I no longer need to think I am not enough or my life is not successful because I have too much dog fur floating on my floors or not enough likes on my last post. Happiness, or perhaps a better word, contentment is a tricky thing. There will always be too many squirrels to chase—I want to say, we should enjoy the squirrels we have already, but I had a squirrel in my home once and I did not enjoy it one bit, so the analogy falls apart here—but you get it!

Write about the dreams that keeps you pressed to the window.

What are some small things you can appreciate while chasing the big dreams?

What are some of the lies that keep messing up your mirrors? How can you work to clean those off?

Please share your response on Typeset or any other writing you would like to post. It can always be anonymous - just let me know when you send the email in the submission form..