Dude, Where's My Car?

Saturday morning at 6 a.m. our car was stolen.  It was running in our driveway as my husband was loading it, getting ready to hit the road with our oldest to go on several college campus visits in Kansas.  He ran inside for the last few things and came out to an empty driveway.

I kid you not.
It's so crazy it's almost funny.
Except it's not.

His computer was in there.  To say his life is on that computer would not be much of an exaggeration.  As a teacher and a pastor, that computer holds years of lesson plans, teaching material, sermons, etc.

His suitcase was also in the car.  My husband is pretty low maintenance, so due to the fact that he would be going to church and attending two campus visits, he packed his "best" shirts.  All of them.

And then we found out that because we only have liability on the car, it's not covered by insurance.

Really!??!?  I can honestly tell you that the purchase of a vehicle was not in our future plans or budget.  I haven't even asked about whether the computer is covered by home owner's insurance.  I'm guessing because it was in the car and not in our home it's not.  Ugh!

Have I mentioned before that God has been really working on my heart in the area of trust?  Well, He has, and He is.

So, of course I'm thinking, here is my test.  I'm ready to prove myself.  I'm ready to walk this road well.  I'm ready to trust in spite of my circumstances, and I start to pray.

I started out praying that the Father would be in the situation at hand.  Then I prayed that He would allow the car to be found and returned.  Then I prayed that whatever happened would bring glory to Him.  Finally, I just prayed that His will would be done.

Is there a right or wrong way to pray when you're trying to trust?

I found myself in a wrestling match as I tried my hardest to determine what I was trusting God for.  I assumed once I had this settled, I would experience peace.  So I began running through the options in my mind.

Trusting Him to restore all that was lost felt like I was putting Him in a box, but I did trust that he could restore these things if He chose.
Trusting Him to be over the entire situation and use it to bring glory to Him felt like the noble thing to do, but it sure didn't eliminate the feelings I was experiencing as I began to process what this loss would mean for us.
Trusting that the Father's will would be done felt like the right thing to do, however it left me wondering why I couldn't get myself to a peaceful place in all this.  I mean if I really trusted the Father's will, shouldn't I be at peace?

Sheesh, I'm fairly certain I lost the wrestling match simply out of sheer exhaustion.

So 32 hours later, I just sat.

I sat on my couch in front of the window and soaked in the sun.  For the first time since Saturday morning I just stopped and waited.  I was reminded of the passage in Lamentations that says,

"I say to myself, The Lord is my portion; 

therefore I will wait for him."

As I waited, as I soaked in His warmth, I was filled with peace.  And it was here that I recognized my mistake...or should I say mistakes?

First, I made the assumption that if I trusted God in something, I'd no longer have to wrestle with hard feelings.  Second, I was convinced that I needed to figure out what it was I was trusting God for.  Again, once this was determined, I would be able to let go of all the emotions that came along with a situation that was hard to understand.

I realized this was not the case.  I also realized this had become an issue of control.  I wanted to prove myself, remember?  I wanted to pass the test that was before me.  Ultimately, I wanted to control the situation in some way that would guarantee these uncomfortable feelings would be alleviated.

Right there I made the biggest mistake of all.  

I assumed I could do this on my own.  I also assumed that if I did it right, I could avoid the messiness of hard feelings.  If I could just figure out what the "right" way was, I could control the outcome of my emotions.  And so it's here that you can safely assume I am a huge work in progress (and a long ways off from mastering this call to trust).

Lucky for me, the One that I am learning to trust (if ever so slowly), is patient and gracious.  I experienced His peace before I had any of my ducks in a row.  I experienced His peace before I had proven myself, before I had passed the test.  I experienced His peace as a gift, not something to be earned, not something given as a result of worthiness, but as a gift.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, the amazing thing about my Father is that He knows me and He knows my heart.  I believe in this situation He knows my desire to trust Him.  He also knows my issues with control.  He sees my heart and the way it longs to run hard after Him and He is fully aware of how quickly I can get off track.  I'm guessing by now He just sits back and chuckles to himself as He watches me flounder through trying to control things, simply waiting for me to return to Him once I've worn myself out.

Finding myself in that worn out place,  I did return to Him.  Here, He reminded me that it's only through His Spirit that I'm even able to trust Him, and that peace is not a commodity paid out to those who earn it.  It's something that comes as a result of pressing into the One who promises us life, even in the midst of trouble.  It comes from relationship, through time and conversation, through vulnerability and yucky feelings.

Today I'm trusting my Father with the help of His Spirit.  I don't know what it is I'm trusting Him for exactly.  I'm trusting that He is in control and that He will see us through.  There are moments I feel peace and I'll be honest in saying there are moments when my stomach flips and I find myself panicking, wondering how this is all going to work out.  In those freaking out moments, I'm forced to run back to the Father.  I'm forced to remember who He is.  I'm reminded that I cannot do this on my own.

What I wanted to be a once and done decision, has become a moment by moment choice, the choice to engage in the relationship.

Having to walk this road has taught me so much already.  I don't know that I'm completely thankful for this opportunity, but I am thankful for what I've learned.

One day we may even look back on this and laugh.  Ok, maybe not.  But I do believe we will look back and be reminded of God's love for us and His desire to be in deep relationship with us.

To My Girls -- What a crazy weekend, eh?  How many times have we looked at each other over the last couple of days and just shook our heads?  Right now I don't know how this part of our story ends.  My hope is that as we do our best to walk this road, you'll recognize in Dad and I a desire to trust, a longing to be in deep relationship with Jesus, and the understanding that we are broken people saved by grace.  My prayer is that you have and will continue to experience God working in you as you live your own stories.  As you wrestle through the hard, never forget the value of pressing into the One who created you.  Go there first, go there before you have it figured out, go there with your questions, your feelings, your unknowns.  I promise He'll be there, always.

One Day...

This is what my bathroom currently looks like.  To be honest, this is not a rarity.  One day this will not be.

One day I will not spend precious minutes of my morning looking for my mascara...only to find it in the makeup bag of one of my daughters.

One day I will get ready to leave the house for the day and every last light will not be on.

One day I will no longer have to enter into bedrooms to find my missing pieces of silverware, plates, cups, and bowls.

One day I will not have to horde my socks for fear of losing them to someone else.

One day all of my shoes will remain in my closet, unless I choose to wear them, and all of my hoodies will remain in my possession.

One day my entryway will not look like a drop zone of shoes, backpacks, coats, random school papers, various books, and sometimes old lunch bags.

One day I will fall asleep and no longer be woken up by the sound of someone taking a bath or a shower during the late hours of the night.

Sometimes those days sound dreamy.  But lately I've been reminded of just how fast time flies.  And before those "dreamy" days become my escape, I realize the other side of what that time will look like...

One day it will just be Vaughn and I sitting around the dinner table sharing our "highs" and "lows" of the day.

One day I'll walk in the door and there will no longer be voices that call out, "Mommy!"

One day I will no longer hear laughter coming up through the vents.

One day I'll lose my "in" on all that is trending and up to date.

One day when it's cleaning day, I'll be down to 2 pairs of hands instead of 6. (say it's not so!)

One day I'm guessing my house will feel oddly empty and quiet.

I remember longing for the day when all my girls might sleep through the night.  Now, there is an ache in my heart as I realize how close we are to only tucking three girls into bed at night instead of four.

Thinking about such things reminds me of seasons.  For every season, there are things that I love and things that I don't.  Some seasons for me are easier than others.  Winter is not my favorite season.  It's cold and the days are short.  It's cold.

But my second oldest was born in the winter.  And some of our family's favorite memories are made as we travel "home" each Christmas during the winter.  Without winter, would spring feel nearly as glorious?

I'm learning to embrace whatever season I'm in.  I'm trying not to rush past it, to hope for something different, or to simply miss out on the present.  I don't want to live wishing for what has been or fear what is to come.  I don't want to be consumed by regrets or be distracted by always wanting more.

I want to embrace contentment and trust.  I want to make sure we always have margin in our lives to soak in the present.  I want to value the ordinary, the everyday, the normal, because that's where we're living most of our days.

Giving thanks helps me do just that.

As I take the time to recognize the Father's hand at work in my life, as I give thanks for all He has done and is doing, my cup overflows.

Ann Voskam writes that giving thanks is "an invitation to slow time down with weight of full attention."

My prayer is that as my heart gives thanks, as I give my full attention to what is happening around me, time might slow, my eyes might see, my heart might feel, and I might be transformed through simply being present.

To My Girls -- I am so thankful for each of you...thankful beyond words.  Thanks for putting up with my crazy when I lose sight of the big picture and I lose my mind for just a second as I recover my "things".  I know there are days when you catch me just staring at you...I'm trying to soak you up.  I don't want to forget these days, or the days that have passed or the days to come.  I want to enjoy the moment, while hoping for the future.  I already have so many treasured memories, and I love nothing more than to sit around the table and listen to you girls talk about "remember when....".  My hope is that we will continue to make memories as we embrace the everyday.  And I know full well that each season will be a gift.

Making Mistakes

Awhile ago I read this blog post written by Lori Harris.  I connected with it on multiple levels.  A couple of weeks later, I was living my own version of the post as I stood face to face screaming profanities at Brien, who would not get out of my house. (I shared about Brien in a previous post)*


Before anyone gets too stirred up by this, it's important for me to explain that my safety was not at risk and that Brien is someone we consider a friend.  Yes, I also understand why it would be difficult to understand why I would be screaming such things to a friend.  Would anyone believe me if I said I started out that day with a heart longing to love well...that ten minutes before all hell broke loose I sat at our table and actually prayed with Brien?  I have a hard time believing it myself...but it's all true.

Maybe I should back up...

Two months ago, a dear friend of mine lent me the book Kisses for Katie.  The book stirred things so deep in my soul it scared me.  There were a number of overarching themes in the book that truly captured my heart.  For several days I walked around in a fog feeling undone by all that I was processing and feeling.  During those days, the Father was speaking to me. One of the things He asked me to do was to love those that He placed in front of me.  Brien was included in this.  I immediately began praying for my heart where Brien was concerned.  I still so desperately needed Jesus to give me more of His heart for this man

And so, the day came when I was given the chance to walk in obedience.  It was a difficult day for Brien, and I felt led to go pick him up and feed him lunch.  We talked at length during the car ride to my house about his struggles and frustrations.  I tried to encourage him, while still speaking truth to him.  When you're dealing with mental illness, all of these conversations border on the line of cray-cray in ways I can't even explain.  But I could feel something different happening in my heart and I was able to keep my calm and stay true to loving Brien at that given time.

Fast forward about an hour and a half, after feeding Brien and asking him if I could pray with him (to which he agreed, an act of God in and of itself.) and it was time to go.  It was here, my dear friends, that the train began to come off the rails.  And by coming off the rails, I mean not only derailing, but promptly driving full speed ahead into a brick wall and therefore ending in a fiery explosion of destruction.

To say Brien was having a hard time leaving my house would be like saying it's a little chilly at the top of Mt. Everest.  To say I was starting to lose my cool would be like saying...well, you get the picture, and it wasn't a pretty one.

Without going into details, the situation got heated and for a small window of time I think I lost my mind.  I did have the where with all to call someone to come assist me in getting Brien to leave.  However, even that proved to be far more intense and upsetting than any of us could have foreseen.

By the time Brien was gone, I was an emotional mess.  The adrenaline that had been pumping through my body was draining, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and go to sleep.  The weight of what just happened fell heavy on my heart.  The tears that flowed were tears of anger, frustration, confusion, sadness, and disappointment.  So many thoughts, so many feelings.

The most logical place for me to go after something like this, is to question my heart.  What could I have done differently?  How could I have loved Brien better?  How much of the Father's work did I undo with my actions and words?  Usually at this point in time it would be about me.

However, as I laid in bed that night and another wave of tears hit me, I realized that my heart was breaking.  I couldn't shake the image of Brien, alone, having to deal with the fall out of the day all by himself.  I felt his loneliness, I wondered if he was cold, I knew he was hurting.  And for the first time I began to pray for Brien out of longing instead of discipline.  God was doing something.

Two days later, my phone rang.

It was Brien.

Nothing could have prepared me for the words that were spoken.  "I'm sorry...I lost it...I know I won't be allowed to come to dinner this week...I'm sorry."

Friends, this was monumental for Brien.  Apologizing is one of the hardest things for him to do.  And yet the spirit in which he was speaking to me on the phone was different than anything I had ever experienced from him.

After sharing words of forgiveness and encouragement, after communicating that we were going to keep walking this road together, I hung up.  Vaughn was sitting next to me during the call.  As the tears began to flow again (I'm telling you, it seems to be a constant some days), Vaughn asked me what I was feeling.

My response was, "How can I be so angry with someone and so dang proud of them within such a short amount of time?"  My heart was full.  Brien's phone call was testimony to nothing short of a miracle.  A miracle that was worth recognizing.  Knowing the situation, we knew the miracle could be short lived, and it was, but it was miraculous none the less.  Baby steps...

I love these words written by Lori Harris,

"This afternoon, as I ponder how you’ll receive this post, I feel led to encourage you towards more love and good deeds. Make mistakes in trying to love your neighbors. Risk the hurt heart or the anger or the fear. Risk being made a fool. Risk having to explain to your children why so and so said such and such."

I have failed over and over in my attempts to love Brien well.  I have begged God to give me more of His heart for the outcast, the overlooked, the hurting.  I never dreamed that on one of my worst days, in the midst of what seemed to be a huge set back, through all the mess that went down in my house, God would choose to further his work in me and in Brien, redeeming what felt lost, reminding me that He is bigger than our failures.

Since this time, we've already experienced a number of setbacks with our friend.  But we've also seen some things that spark in me hope and wonder as to what God is doing. 

This way of Jesus is messy, I've said it before. 

I can't help but believe, though, that the mess does not undo the Father.  I'm fairly certain He is not surprised by it.  As a matter of fact, I think he's probably used to it.  Some days I wonder if He isn't simply waiting for us to quit trying to tiptoe through it...if He's longing for us to simply dive in head first, risking the crazy that may ensue, maybe even getting a little beat up in the process, but running hard nonetheless towards those things that are of Him.

If we wait until we know we'll get it right, I'm convinced we'll miss out on some of the most valuable, most transformational parts of the journey. 

I don't like to miss out.

To My Girls -- I know you've witnessed numerous events that look similar to the one mentioned above.  You are no stranger to the mess.  I can only hope that as we embrace the mess together, you will see the value of taking risks in loving well and deeply.  My prayer is that you will not fear making mistakes, but understand that without them we cannot learn.  May you find such hope and security in the Father's unconditional love for you, that you are freed to run crazy hard after the way of Jesus.


*I have been granted permission by Brien to blog about our times together.

Saying Yes

I've been watching a lot of Prison Break these days, along with Call The Midwife (bet you would've never put those two together).  I've read two fictional novels in the last week and a half.  I finally decided to replace our dishes after 19 years of marriage, so I spent an entire day tracking down enough pieces from various Walmart's to complete a set of 12 (Thank you Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond!).

I know that these are the things I do when I'm avoiding.

Sometimes my feelings are so deep it hurts to process them.  Sometimes the future is so unknown it scares the life out of me.  Sometimes the discouragement is so thick I can feel it turning into anger.  The weight of all the "what if's", the "what are we doing's", and the "what could be's" is so heavy it's sometimes hard to breath.

We've been doing a lot of processing at our house...yes, still. (Will there ever be a day when I don't use that line in a post?) This journey can be so hard sometimes.  And that hard comes in so many different forms.  For me, lately, it's been emotional.  My heart longs to see transformation.  My being is hungry to be a part of something.  My soul feels a bit like Donkey on Shrek when he's standing among all the fairy tale characters jumping up and down yelling, "Me! Me! Pick me!"

I want to feel picked for a purpose and I want to see that purpose bear fruit.  I want to see more of the Kingdom breaking through.  I want to see lives transformed.  I want to experience more of the Holy Spirit in my life.

I also want to know what God is up to and what that is going to look like for me.  I want to know how long this season of discernment is going to last and how it's going to end.  I want to eat pie for breakfast, and chips with my lunch while still being able to fit into my jeans (a.k.a. yoga pants).

I realize I want a lot of things.

I think the Father wants a lot of these same things for me (minus the pie and chips, maybe...although I am convinced there will be lemon meringue pie along with Doritos and guacamole at the great banquet table in heaven).  But I also realize that there is an underlying desire for something else throughout all of these other desires, and that's for control.

Are we honestly having this conversation again?

I'm about 10 years into this surrendering thing and the end seems nowhere in sight.  I have felt the peace that comes with opening up my hands and letting go.  I know the hope we have in serving a sovereign God, a good God.  Why, then, can I not master this skill of trusting, of believing, of resting in a surrendered state?

The other day I was talking on the phone to my mom (I may or may not have been crying).  I was frustrated and confused.  I knew the right answers, but that didn't stop the strong emotions.  After listening patiently, she finally spoke truth into my situation like only a mom can.  She gently told me to get back to the present and simply be willing to say "Yes" to whatever the Father was asking of me that day.

The minute the words left her mouth, I knew they were for me.  But I still felt myself rise against them a bit.  Isn't that too easy?  Who's going to think about the future?  Who is going to discern?  Who is going to come up with the next step?

Knowing my mom is a woman of great wisdom, I've been working at saying "Yes".  I'm doing my best to stay in the present, to simply do what is in front of me. 

Yes, I will do our laundry. 
Yes, I will read with my youngest. 
Yes, I will prepare for kids club. 
Yes, I will lay down my anxious thoughts in a conversation with my Creator. 
Yes, I will lay down my anxious thoughts. 
Yes, I will lay down my anxious thoughts.

On my hard days I find myself swinging from one side of the spectrum to the other.  At one point I can feel so hopeful and excited about what God is stirring in us that I can hardly see straight, only to become so doubtful and overwhelmed I begin to question everything we're doing.

On my good days, though, I'm learning to stop myself before the emotions get too intense.  I'm learning to ask myself what it is I am to say "Yes" to on that day.  I'm working at trusting what I know to be true instead of what I feel to be true.  That's a biggie for this girl who seems to ALWAYS be feeling something.

My goal is to learn to say "Yes" to hope consistently and to find joy in the waiting.  That's my goal...someday, sometime, may it be so.

To My Girls -- My prayer is that all four of you would have hearts that always choose to say "Yes" to Jesus, even when it may seem unclear as to what you are saying "Yes" to, even when the "Yes" feels hard.

Planting Seeds

When we moved into our neighborhood 5 years ago we did so with a vision of engaging our community and loving our neighbors.  We spent hours and days brainstorming ways to connect with those that lived around us.

In my dreams, deep relationships would be formed, long conversations would be had, life would be spent doing together as the days turned into months turned into years.

We knew it would take time.  We knew it might be a steep learning curve.  But we dove in all the same.

5 years later we've learned a lot.  I can tell you what doesn't seem to work more than what does.   I have far more questions now than when we started.  I've felt discouraged, burnt out, and cynical.

And then last year happened.  To say it in the most simple, concise way, last year was hard...hard on so many levels.  It was a year of holding on for dear life and being forced to trust like never before.  It was a year of wrestling, of questioning, of processing, of clinging and then of letting go.  It was a year of darkness and surviving.

But in that darkness and in that drive to survive, it became a year of growing and learning and changing.  Last year forced us to daily cling to our mantra of faithfulness and obedience.

This year we're still seeking to live faithfully and obediently despite our questions, despite the unknown, despite what we thought might be.  Kids Club is one way of doing this.

Every year we've lived in our neighborhood we've done Kids Club.  Every year except last year...it just didn't happen.  But this year the kids were begging and we knew it was time to start it back up.

And so, once again I trekked out to the bus stop and handed out flyers.  You could hear the whispers, "Kids Club?"  "Are you going?"  "Thursday nights?  I think I can come!"

As we prepared for our kick off night, my heart was in a new place.  I saw these kiddos through different eyes.  I knew what we were doing, as simple as it is, was right.  How can you go wrong loving on kiddos?  How can you fail when you're sharing the love of Jesus?  How can you question speaking truth and life into young, sponge-like hearts?

But the kids aren't the only ones being ministered to.  Before week one even happened, three of our "older" neighborhood girls showed up at our front door.  With their shy smiles, and their accented words they wanted to know if they could still come to Kids Club.  We've always posted an age range of 4-12 (really assuming anyone over the age of 12 would not be interested in coming).  But these girls had been with us from the beginning and they weren't ready to be done.

I told them they were too old to come to Kids Club, but that they weren't too old to help.  The vision was coming to me as I was speaking.  What might it look like to allow Kids Club to grow with our kids?  What better way to continue learning than to help teach?

A deal was quickly made.

If these girls would agree to show up at my house on Tuesday afternoons, I would tell them what that week's lesson was about.  Together we would then come up with a craft or activity for the kids to do following the story, and the girls would be responsible for leading whatever we came up with.

I'll be honest in saying I figured the girls would forget to come, and that was ok.  I figured they would still show up on Thursday for club and that would, of course, be ok also.  But low and behold, my doorbell rang that first week and there they were!  I had totally forgotten, but they had not!  Last week they "led" their first activity.

Again, this week my doorbell rang.  Again, I had forgotten!  Luckily I was home, though, and we talked through our second lesson, coming up with a craft idea.  Tonight we'll once again let them "lead".

Is it a surprise, really, that I'm being ministered to just as much as I'm doing the ministering?  Isn't that usually the case, especially when it comes to children?  Watching these neighborhood kids never ceases to teach me, to challenge me and to encourage me.

The homes they come from are all different, some more broken than others.  But they're kids, and all kids long to feel loved, long to feel a part of things, long to be known.  My hope is that even if for one hour a week we can speak this into each one of them, we can share with them hope, we can tell them about Someone who not only created them but loves them unconditionally and offers them life, then maybe they will learn to walk in these truths and even end up sharing them with someone else.

As much as it feels right to us, it doesn't necessarily to everyone else.  Each week I look across the street to see a little boy and his sister sitting on the step watching from afar.  They've asked their dad if they can come, but the answer has been "no".  My heart hurts as I see them looking over longingly.  I will not stop praying that one day they'll be able to join us.

We always hope that our intentions to love well are received over the misconception of having some kind of agenda.  We pray regularly that we might find favor in the eyes of those that live around us.  We strongly believe in this way of life and are learning to find joy in it, despite the disappointments  and frustrations.

My prayer is that the seeds that are planted on this street might someday grow, flourish and produce much fruit.  What I wouldn't give to know the ending to this part of our story.

To My Girls -- What a blessing it has been to watch you minister with Daddy and I through Kids Club.  Each of you bring your own gifts and personalities to the table.  I love to see you running out to gather kids up, or sitting with the little ones on your lap during the story. It blesses me as you volunteer to answer the questions, or help around the craft table.  Your warmth and graciousness reminds me of how I want to be.  Thank you for working with us.  Thank you for being generous.  Thank you for loving well. 

Enough

I'd love to know if there is anyone living on this big, beautiful earth that doesn't like the feeling of being in control.  Anyone???

Anyone out there who just loves the thrill of the unknown, the out of control, the sense of helplessness that comes from not being able to fix something, the anxiousness that arises when you realize how little control we do have in this life?  I could break out into a cold sweat just typing these words.

Once again, I'm just going to come out and say, I may wrestle with control issues.  My friends and family might argue that using the word may is living a fantasy.  A girl can dream, though, right?

I think I've shared before that I like to have a good plan. I am happy when I know there is some organization to what is happening. I work hard to be prepared. I embrace order...again, all ways of saying I like the feeling of circumstances being under control.

This is something I've realized more and more about myself in the last couple of years.  I'm a weird mix of easy going and crazed control freak.  For the most part, I'm pretty laid back about the little things in life. (I really don't care where we eat when we're out on a date.  And as long as my girls are fully clothed I don't get worked up about whether what they picked out to wear matches or not.  My oldest wore sweat pants to school for the first 12 years of her life, and my youngest just walked out the door this morning in hawaiian shorts, a Tabor College basketball t-shirt and silver glitter sandals.) I lose no sleep over these things.

 However, when it comes to circumstances...when it comes to pulling something off, or having a vision, a dream, when it comes to life happening in deep ways, I know and recognize my desire for control.  I want plans to go well.  I want success for myself and those I love.  I want that feeling of knowing where we're going, working hard to get there, and being confident of the end result.  And if the end result isn't a good one, I'm actually ok with that.  I just want to know that beforehand.  Is that too much to ask?

I just want to know!

The unknown often feels like my enemy. So much can happen in the unknown.  There's the possibility of pain in the unknown, failure, broken dreams, loneliness, mistakes, tragedy, suffering.  Is there the possibility of goodness and celebration and hope in the unknown?  Of course, but these are not the things that keep me up at night.

It's the hard unknown that can feel suffocating.  That speaks lies into the truth of what I already do know.  But sometimes I forget that truth.

Last week a friend told me she was processing the question, "Why isn't Jesus enough?".  My first reaction was to dive into a long conversation with her about why I thought so many people struggled with believing that Jesus is enough.  These poor people, always looking to something else to meet their needs, never choosing to rely on Jesus in the hard.  Why can't they see that Jesus is enough for them? (Why do I always assume it's someone else who has the problem?)

We actually did talk about what this looks like for the church, but it was while I was saying something about how "others" just don't seem to get it, that I heard the words, "Am I enough for you?"

I disregarded that little voice because I was making a point that concerned others, not me. (yes, go ahead and roll your eyes...I deserve that.)  And even though I was choosing to not engage in that particular conversation, I heard the question being whispered and thought to myself, "Of course, Jesus you know you're enough for me."  All of that went through my mind while I was still addressing someone else's issues.

If you've read any of my other posts, you know that sometimes it takes a couple turns around the bend to get me to realize what God is saying to me.  I really am thankful that He is patient and long suffering because there are some days I think He must want to walk away shaking His head.

Lucky for me, instead, He chooses to keep pursuing, relentlessly, with those things that He wants me to know and learn.  I'm learning to feel loved by this instead of shameful that I didn't already know it to begin with.

And so those whispered words would not quiet.  The question, "Am I enough for you?" kept playing in my head.  With time, it turned into the question, "What does it look like for Jesus to be enough?"

This question captured my mind and I began to play out different scenarios.  The anxiety I was feeling about a situation involving one of our daughters...what did it look like for Jesus to be enough for me in this?  The financial questions we had...the challenging relationship I was in with a friend...the ministry questions we are processing.

When things are going smoothly, when all is well, to be honest I often live as though I don't even need Jesus.  But when I am reminded of the reality that I am not in control, and there are a lot of unknowns that I have to face everyday, I am forced to answer the question with my choices and behavior.

Will I choose to trust?  Will I choose to believe?  Will I choose to put my hope in a Savior?  Or will I choose to flounder, to freak out and grasp at anything and everything to try to regain that control I so desperately want?  Will I allow my thoughts to run away with me and live in the fear that comes with all the "what if's"?  Or will Jesus be enough?

It sounds so cliche doesn't it?  Even as I was sharing my thoughts with Vaughn on all this, I kept thinking, "This is the most ridiculous, cliche thing ever!  Why is something so bumper sticker-esk, rocking your world?"

Can't you just see it?  You pull up to the stop light and read on the car bumper in front of you, "Is Jesus Enough?"  You roll your eyes, assume some holier than thou is in the driver's seat, come up with some snarky response and accelerate at the green.

I get it.  Because I'm uber sensitive to super churchy lingo.  No one wants to hear it.

But this question for me has nothing to do with being super churchy.  And although it seems like a pretty basic question, I am finding the answer has huge repercussions for the way I choose to live my story.

If my answer to this question is "Yes", than I am giving up that control I so desperately fight for.  I am surrendering to the sovereignty of my Creator.  I am putting my hope and trust in Jesus, living out the belief that no matter what, He is enough for me.  I am agreeing with the writer of Lamentations in saying, "The Lord is my portion...(3:24)"  He is enough for me in all things.

When I give in to anxious thoughts, to jealousy, to a critical spirit.  When I throw a fit because I don't believe I deserve what is happening.  When I manipulate and run ahead of circumstances with my own plan, I am answering the given question with a resounding "No".

I can see how a lot of my days have been filled with the answer, "No".

I want to change that.

As the Father continues to gently pry my fingers back from holding on so tightly to my own plan, my own way, I am slowly learning what it looks like to say "Yes".  I want nothing more than Jesus to always be enough for me.  It's a process.  It's taking time to retrain my mind and my heart.  But the freedom that I have already experienced in saying "Yes" is enough to keep me asking the question.

To My Girls -- I want nothing more than for you to become fully you, the unique individuals Christ has created you to be.  I want you to know love and happiness.  I want you to live on purpose, sharing the love of Jesus in whatever you do.  As your momma, I hate thinking about you going through any kind of pain, turmoil or struggle.  But the world we live in is a broken one.  We are guaranteed hardship.  My prayer is that as you grow, you will learn what it means to look to Jesus in all things.  That He would always be your portion, and that you find freedom and hope in trusting His sovereign ways.

Hoping To Be Surprised

I love to be surprised...if it's a good surprise that is.  If it means my sister showing up at my door from a state away, or a night out planned by my husband, who doesn't love that?  One time I had a friend schedule a house cleaner to come and clean my house before I hosted my husband's 40th birthday celebration.  Just dreamy!

In my opinion, a good surprise comes from those who really get you.  Those people that know concert tickets aren't your thing, but Broadway tickets would be on point.  Friends that can surprise you with a piece for your wall and it fits in perfectly with your "taste".

I've come to learn good surprises make me feel not only loved, but also known.

We're currently praying to be surprised at our house.

School started this last week and it's felt kind of rough for my 13 year old.  One day before classes started, she found out she had been put in a class separate from all of her friends but one.

Middle school is just plain hard.  You couldn't pay me enough to relive those years.  The inner turmoil, the drama, the tears, the questioning, the longings.  I'm convinced it's even harder with the addition of social media.

What?  So and so is hanging out with her BFF?  I thought I was her BFF!  Besides, she said she couldn't hang out tonight.  Evidently she can, because she is!  Just not with me!  (These are the conversations we try to navigate through at this age.)

Anyways, all that to say Middle School is hard enough when you're with your friends.  It's doubly brutal when you've been separated from them, while they're all still together.  And so, to say the year ahead feels doomed might sound over dramatic, but at 13 this is how we communicate.

As a mom it's hard to see your kiddos struggle.  I admit to being a "fixer".  I fix to avoid pain, I fix to avoid conflict, I fix to avoid being uncomfortable.  Nothing brings out the fixer in me more than when my kids are hurting.

But I know better...at least I'm learning to know better.  Fixing is rarely the best solution.  It's no secret that most often it is the hard in life that molds us over the easy.  In the hard we're challenged to make a choice.  What will we choose to focus on?  In the hard our belief system is tested.  We say we trust God, but do we really?  In the hard we either become victims or overcomers.

Every person wants to be known as someone who sees the good, who trusts always and who overcomes.  But in order to be known as this type of person, we actually have to walk through the hard and choose.  Choose joy even when we don't know the outcome.  Aaaggghh!!!!  This is so much easier said than done.

As I'm preaching this to my daughter, I'm really speaking it to myself.  Because inside I'm throwing my own fit.  I'm ticked that this is the way our year has to start off.  I'm sick for my daughter who has worked hard to find her place only to now feel displaced.  I don't feel like we deserved this.

But Lord knows no one does.  I'm learning to recognize that circumstances like this have nothing to do with whether we deserve them or not.  But they have everything to do with molding us into the one we have been created to be.  It sounds beautiful in theory, but it's super hard in real life...especially when it's your child that's being molded.

Since fixing is out of the question, I've had to process what it looks like to walk alongside my daughter in this.  The tightrope I'm walking between being empathetic while still calling my 13 year old to something higher is a thin one.  Most days I feel at a loss.

The one prayer I keep coming back to is "Surprise us Lord!"  I have asked my daughter to commit to keeping her eyes open for ways the Father might choose to surprises her.  I figure no one knows her better than her Creator, so who better to know ways to speak love to her through the unexpected?

So, last night I asked my daughter if she had seen any evidence of the Father's hand at work and she gave me an adamant, "no".  Ugh!  How crazy is it that with that one answer I'm ready to bail on praying?  Oh ye of little faith!

The thing about surprises is that you never know when they're coming.  The not knowing in this situation just might be killing me slowly...I didn't say it was, I said it might be.  Obviously my daughter is not the only one being molded here.

I want to be committed to this prayer on my daughter's behalf.  At this point the surprise may just be  making it through the year with minimal tears...right now we'll take that.  But I'm boldly praying for more.

I want nothing more than for my daughter to experience her Father at work in her life.  I want her to be able to look back and give testimony to the way He was faithful.  I fully understand that this may not look the way we might hope, but I also trust that the Great Creator loves and knows my daughter more deeply than anyone.  Any gift He gives will be good.

Matthew 7:11 says, "So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him."  

So I'm asking...

I'm asking for my daughter to be molded, I'm asking that she might have eyes to see the good, I'm asking for her heart to be strong.  And I will be hopeful on her behalf that her heavenly Father will find a way to surprise her in all this.

To My Girls -- My prayer is that in the hard of life you will choose to trust, choose to believe, and choose to find joy.  It will rarely be easy, but it will bring life.  May you find hope as you walk through these seasons in knowing that your heavenly Father is at work, always molding you to look more like Jesus.  Don't run from these situations, instead ask the Father to show you what He wants you to know.  And always remember that God is good.  He is loving and gracious.  He is faithful and always walking alongside of you.  Hard is not bad, hard is not something that is being done to you, hard is simply a way for us to press more deeply into the loving relationship we have with our Creator.