A Day In The Snow (Ok, really only 45 minutes)

Monday was President's Day.  The girls did not have school.  The two youngest decided they wanted to go out and play in the snow.

15 years into parenting and I'm still learning to embrace these moments instead of listening to the voice in my head that is whining about the piles of wet clothes that come as a result of such activities.

Five minutes before they went out I heard another voice...one that said, "Go out with them, they would love it!" (I'm learning to listen to this voice more and more)

 (Do you see that camper in the background? It belongs to our neighbors, but I stare at it longingly on a regular basis)

As I started to get dressed, the girls were in shock. (This momma does not love the cold or the snow...give me a beach and I'll play with you ALL DAY LONG!)

It really was a beautiful day, though.  The snow was perfect for snowballs.

We had just gotten started when my 15 year old stuck her head out the door and asked if she could join us.  Be still oh my heart...

We were outside for only about 45 minutes.  Vaughn surprised us by joining us half way through (he's usually the one to do this, but I told him I would go out this time).  We were missing one.  Kyan was sledding with some friends.

I've blogged about it before...trying to be present, learning to embrace the moment, not forgetting that I still have littles, along with bigs.  Those 45 minutes were worth every piece of wet clothing currently laying in my garage. 

And now, I will continue my countdown to summer. (please do not leave a comment reminding me that summer is a number of snowfalls away...I'm well aware of this!)

To My Girls -- Thanks for always acting excited when mom joins in to play.  I cherish every one of these moments with each of you!

Dinner with Brien

Last night we had our friend Brien over for dinner.  And I use the term "friend" loosely.  I don't know that Brien would call me his friend.  I do know that there have been times that my feelings towards him have not been "friendly".  To be honest, I don't fully know what it looks like to really be a friend to this man.

Some things you should know about Brien: He is a health nut. He prefers organic if possible.  He will eat a big salad at anytime of day if offered to him (including breakfast).  Brien currently has an obsession with doing as many push ups in a day that he can.  He likes to cook when given the opportunity.  If you want to dive into conversation with Brien, ask him what the hottest pepper is.

Brien is also homeless.

Brien came into our lives about 4 years ago.  He is our most faithful attender on Sunday mornings as we gather in our home with our missional community.  He's admitted that he's not super interested in God or Jesus, but he loves a good meal, and is always looking for company.  Brien doesn't like to be alone.

The temptation is to make some kind of statement about loving and serving the poor and needy, and ending this blog post here.  It would definitely create a picture that supports our vision of living missionally.  To be honest, I could add a number of details and stories of how we've opened up our home to Brien, given him a place to sleep, a warm shower on a regular basis, a place to wash his clothes, and essentially present a pretty romantic picture of living the way of Jesus.

But today is not that day.  I've learned that what can be presented as romantic, is very often far more messy than we'd like to admit...like roll in a wet muddy pasture of cow manure, messy.  How could we have known that when our hearts became captured with all that Jesus was calling us to, it would not feel like what we thought? (ok, what I thought)

I'm just going to be honest with you, Brien drives me all sorts of crazy!  He has a real issue with boundaries.  He's ungrateful.  He is extremely difficult to get along with, and He is selfish.  None of this is new news to him, I've been very honest with him about my feelings. (notice the romance fading)  However, being in relationship with Brien has taught me more about myself and about loving Jesus than anything else in my life.

One Sunday morning, as I was looking across the room seeing Brien sitting there, the Lord whispered in my ear, "What if that is me, sitting here in your living room?"...

My heart sank.  I had not been a gracious host towards this man.  I talked at him and rarely listened, sometimes I even ignored him.  I made it my primary role/goal to "teach" him, instead of love him.  As I heard this voice in my ear, my response was remorse, frustration, and sadness.

Sitting there, I began to picture washing Brien's feet.

Let me tell you right now that I immediately knew this was not something that would ever happen.  I knew it would make Brien incredibly uncomfortable.  Not to mention that fact that it would just be plain weird to go over and ask him if I could wash his feet.  I'm fairly certain the symbolism would have gotten lost in the translation.

But I could not get this picture out of my mind.  For weeks I would have conversations with the Lord that sounded something like this, "Lord, I would do this as an act of obedience to you.  I want to do this.  I think it would be good for me to do this.  But it's NEVER going to happen!  So, know that I hear you and I would if I could, but maybe just knowing my heart is good enough here, yes?" (Ok, so when I said conversation I really meant I was doing the talking)

The Lord did not respond.

That is until one Sunday morning when Brien pulled me aside and said he had a question for me.  He had just been released from the hospital after battling a serious infection in his hand.  As he stood there with his hand still wrapped in gauze, he asked me, "Would you consider giving me a pedicure?"

I'm just going to cut to the chase right here and tell you that the minute the words came out of Brien's mouth, I knew what was happening.  I didn't even have time to be shocked.  The Lord was giving me access to Brien's feet.

Again, on paper this is such a beautiful story.  However as my friend Jaimie and I tackled this "pedicure" (picture the scene from Dumb and Dumber and you'll know what were dealing with) beauty was not at the forethought of my mind. As a matter of fact, once we began there was an intense battle raging between my brain and my gag reflex.

I'm going to be honest when I say that I had really anticipated this whole thing to feel like a deep spiritual experience.  I wanted it to feel like a deep spiritual experience.  Instead, it was all I could do to focus my brain on feeling nothing for fear of what the alternative might look like.

I walked away from that day confused.  Really? Was that it?  All those weeks were leading up to that?  Were you even there, Jesus?  I didn't feel you there. (Because this is all about me, right? Ugh!)

Needless to say, I was smack in the middle of a lesson in obedience and I was once again reacting like a selfish child.

Matthew 25:40 says, "The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'  

My first response to this is YES!  I will do it for the least of these, because I want nothing more than to do it for you, Jesus.  I will go out and serve and love in your name!  There is nothing I want more than to do this!

It sounds beautiful doesn't it?  We know it's right don't we?  Then why the heck doesn't it feel the way I thought it would?  No one has ever recommended a book to me that talks about what it's like to live missionally and feel like no one is really interested.  There are a lot of days that that's how I feel.  And I wanted it to feel different.


As I look back over the last four years of our lives, I realize that selfishly I wanted to feel needed.  I wanted to feel like I was really doing something amazing for the Kingdom.  I wanted to be that person that you read about in books, living radically and changing lives.

And I wanted it to feel good, to feel satisfying and rewarding.  I did not envision sliding around in the muck and messiness of living this way.  There is no manual that walks you through the tension between generosity and enabling, between graciousness and boundaries, between knowing the right thing to do and not wanting to do it.

Ultimately, I know it's not about feelings.  But I'm such a feeling kind of person, so this is hard for me.  I'm learning it's about obedience and faithfulness, despite what I may or may not be feeling.

Last night I felt ready to love and serve and bless but by the time Brien left I was feeling frustrated, angry and confused.  There's still work to be done in this heart of mine.

Ezra Taft Benson is quoted as saying, "The great test of life is obedience to God." If that's the case, I've got a lot of studying to do.

To My Girls -- Girls, you have walked this road with us.  You have seen us at our best and at our worst when it comes to situations like this.  My prayer is that you would ultimately remember that Daddy and my hearts' desire was and is to walk this Way of Jesus always as best we can.  May your hearts be captured with the same way of living.  You will make mistakes and it's rarely easy.  Do not be discouraged by the wrestling it brings about.  There is nothing worth pursuing more!

The No-Screen Challenge

Confession...I don't feel like a very creative mom.

It's just not one of my strengths.  Growing up, I remember my sister always getting out the craft supplies and "creating".  I never had the desire to join her.

I really just wanted to play pretend.  And some might say that is it's own creative, but really I just wanted to be in relationship in whatever way I could (even if it was a make believe relationship).

Once I became a mom, nothing changed really.  From day one I dreamt about my babies growing up and being old enough to interact with me, to have conversations and be in relationship with me.  I pictured us experiencing life together, but rarely did I picture us being creative together.

So, you can only imagine the tick I immediately developed when my 7 year old came home from school talking nonstop about a 4 day no-screen challenge.

Now, before you judge, let me reassure you that I am not the type of mom that gives my children limitless access to screens.  My children read daily.  We eat dinner together as a family with a no-screens policy.  My youngest two often disappear for long periods of time, getting caught up in creating their own stories through role play and pretend.

Just the other day the two of them created this little piece of something or other by finger knitting.  What is finger knitting you might say?  I have no idea!  It's something they learned at school.  You can see the end product below.  Looks pretty cool, right?

What do I do with this?  I have no doubt there are mothers out there that could take this and turn it into something quirky and whimsical...and if I saw it I would think "I love that, I want that in my home!"

Right now this is sitting in my trash can.  I could only take it laying around my house for so many days!

Ok, back to what I was saying...why the tick, you ask?  Why the sinking feeling in my stomach that these might be the longest 4 days of my life? (Oh I hadn't shared the sinking feeling part with you?)

To be honest, I don't really know.  Maybe it's because there are certain times of day when screens seem kind of helpful to me.  Those times when I just need everyone to be occupied while I have an uninterrupted conversation with Vaughn.   Those times when I'm making supper, fielding homework questions, and answering my phone all at the same time.  If during those times one of my little ones is quietly on a computer somewhere, I'm not complaining.

And as long as we're talking about this, I kind of like our morning routine which includes the littles waking up and coming downstairs as I finish up on the treadmill.  Is the TV on? Yes...but is it ok to feel like we kind of bond during this time as we catch up on The Biggest Loser, or Project Runway?

I'll admit my reaction was primarily selfish.  In and of itself the fact that my daughter wanted to take this no-screen challenge made me proud.  I loved the thought of her stimulating her brain in more creative ways.  I just dreaded the possibility of it meaning that I might be hearing the phrase, "What can I do?" every other minute for the next four days.

When I hear that question, something happens inside me.  I feel as though I should be able to make suggestions or provide the materials for my children to create, to craft, to find their inner artist.  But the only words that consistently come out of my mouth are, "You could color."  Due to this being my go to, I'm pretty sure I burnt my kids out on coloring by age 3!

But the day arrived and the challenge was accepted.  As the first afternoon was upon us, Aleah began thinking about things she could do.  At that moment something of the Holy Spirit nature came over me and out of my mouth came the words, "You could write a story."

I don't know why I said it...probably because the only materials it required was paper and pencil, and I knew we had those things.  Must I remind you that creativity is not my strong suit!

It doesn't really matter, though, because she agreed and immediately set herself up to start writing.

Half an hour later, she presented me with a story about our camping trip we took this summer.  A story that involved me wading into freezing cold water, doing everything I could to free up a lily pad that had the most beautiful flower on top of it.  A flower that had caught Aleah's eye.  A flower she felt she could not live without.  I had almost forgotten about this.

The next morning I was on my treadmill.  Like usual, Aleah came wondering down, sleepy eyed having just woken up.  The TV was on and she immediately went into the office to practice piano.  By the time she was done I still had 20 minutes to go and I really did not want to have to turn the TV off.  (It's all I can do to keep my mind off of what I'm doing on the treadmill)

I immediately got distracted by what I was watching (which is the whole point), but after 5 or so minutes I looked over and realized that Aleah was alphabetizing all of our DVDs by title.  She had them lined up across the floor and was working her way through the G's. 

By this time, the educator in me was being revived.  As we talked about what to do when the first two letters of two different titles were the same, I found myself smiling.  Few things compare to watching your child grasp a concept.

That's when the realization hit me.  I'm living in two different worlds.  I have two teenagers in the house.  In a previous blog I mentioned what this looks like, having to take a step back, having to simply be available when needed, learning to let them begin to step out on their own at times.  In this scenario, you can get lulled into thinking everyone is doing well because everyone can take care of themselves.

But I still have two kiddos in elementary school too.  And this is not the case for them.  They are at a very different stage, a stage that requires me to remember what it was like when my first two were this age.  A stage that involves, whether I like it or not, a bit more creative thinking.

I know it's not my strength, but I'm slowly remembering that there were days with my oldest two when I pressed in and channeled the spirits of all things creative.  I'm fairly certain we may even have some home video footage documenting such days, which may or may not include someone wearing a beak and someone wearing an eye patch holding a large knife. (I told you my creativity was questionable) I never regretted those days.

All that to say, my eye has recovered and the tick is gone.  We have one more day to go in the challenge, and I couldn't be more proud of myself, I mean Aleah.  Sometimes on this journey we need wake up calls, or reminders, or just a small kick in the tush to help make us our best.  The no-screen challenge did that for me and I'm eternally grateful!

My two youngest

To My Girls -- I am always in awe when I see you expressing yourselves creatively.  My prayer is that you will find ways to access this part of you, with and without my help!:)  Thank you for challenging me to be a better mom in this area.

Everyone Is Living A Story

Don't judge a book by its cover.

It's such a cliche'.

And yet this is what I do....literally.  If I don't have a specific book in mind when I head to the library, then I can be found roaming the shelves, opening myself up to the callings of each cover design and title font. How else do you pick out a good read without knowing the content?

Unfortunately, I do this with people too.  I've always been a people watcher.  There have been times when Vaughn and I are out on a date and he will stop mid-sentence because he's lost me.  He waits, as he realizes that I have been sucked into observing someone from across the room.  When I realize he's quit talking, I apologize, and then I quickly fill him in on what I'm pretty sure is happening in the adjacent conversation.  Pathetic, I know!

To people watch is one thing, to make judgement calls as a result is something entirely different.  Sadly, I am guilty of both.  Lately, I've had a number of opportunities to interact with groups of women I didn't really know.  After giving myself the 'ole pep talk, you know the one that sounds like, "Just be yourself...Your beauty comes from the inside...People like someone who is easy to talk to and likes to laugh...yada, yada, yada." (Do we ever get over this stuff?) I dove into the groups.  And low and behold, not everyone seemed as happy to meet me as I was to meet them.

Ok, maybe that's an exaggeration, since we didn't really know each other, we weren't really officially meeting, and we were just interacting in a larger group.  But I was watching them, and there was something there.

I assumed the worst...and the judgements began.  My thoughts may or may not have included the following, "They seem very closed off...I don't think they really like me...You know what? They don't have to like me, I don't need them as a friend...What is their problem?...I feel like they're judging me...They seem very arrogant."...and on and on it goes

Until I decide to bail, because nobody likes to feel judged! (ironic, right? It's just kind of sick...)

And here is where I experienced the whiplash of a hard lesson learned.  After my time with these ladies was over, I began to hear some of their stories from others who knew them better than I.  Stories that involved tragedy and loss.  Stories that took my breath away and made me rethink all I had to be thankful for.  Stories that were still being written with women clinging to the hope of a happier chapter ahead.

As I listened, my heart desperately desired a "do over".  I wanted nothing more than to have another chance to love on these women, to serve them and bless them, to be the hands of Jesus in any way that I could for them.  But our time together had passed.  And I was left still worried about protecting myself, and making judgment calls instead of remembering that everyone is living their own story.

Sometimes we get to hear these stories, and when we do it connects with something in us and there is little that can stop us from pouring out.  But I'm realizing that there may very well be times that I never know the story.  What then?  What brings me to a place of looking outside of myself?  What motivates me to serve and love, all at the risk of not knowing how it will be received?

My heart knows the answer is obedience.  My Jesus calls me to love, to bless and to serve.  I have assumed the role of deciding who gets to experience this part of me, but that role is not mine.  My role is to simply remember what it means to walk obediently before and in place of choosing to judge, and to love and serve anyone the Father brings into my story, whether I know theirs or not.

To My Girls -- My prayer is that you will always have gracious hearts, seeing the good in others, always being willing to put yourself in someone else's shoes in place of judgement.  You will never regret making the effort to love generously and well.

My Weekend At The Craft House

I don't love to cook, and I don't feel like I'm very creative...but I love to eat and I absolutely swoon over pretty things.  So, when my friends asked me to come be a helper at Craft Weekend how could I say no?  I figured I'd make up for my lack of skills by being the best dang dish washer, kitchen cleaner, margarita pourer and coffee server I could be!

So last weekend I flew out on Thursday and got to spend a little extra one on one time with Kimberlee and Meg before all the ladies arrived.

 I have to say it makes my heart happy that these two friends of mine from different seasons of my life found each other.  They make the most amazing team! There's just something about watching someone minister out of their gift mix, and these two are doing just that!  I'm blessed to call them friends, and to have the opportunity to watch them in action.

I also love any opportunity to spend time with other women.  I'm a people watcher, so it was a thrill for me to just watch these ladies create, interact, and be filled.  Hearing their laughter made me smile.  Hearing some of their stories made me feel.  Watching them in this creative environment inspired me.

And then I had the privilege to serve them.  These ladies who are wives, mommas, sisters, friends, and caregivers, each one with their own story, each one taking time for themselves, and I had the honor of giving them the chance to be served even if just for a few days.

I'll be honest in saying, serving is always WAY more fun when it involves Kimberlee's cooking! These are single serving pot pies.  So fun, right? And de-lish!

Everything she made was TO...DIE...FOR!!!!!  And she does it with such ease.  She's one of those that half the time she doesn't even measure her ingredients and it turns out beautifully...blows my mind!

I'm fairly certain heaven will involve scenes like this...

with big farm tables of amazing food, surrounded by friends, and beauty, and laughter!

The ladies crafted late into the night.  I am always in awe of those who are wired with a deep creativity.  Meg is always gracious to me knowing my creative insecurities.  I remember being captured by her artistic ability early on as we grew up together.  We are all created in the image of God, it is evident that God imparted His creative side into Meg when she was formed in her mother's womb.

She walked me through making this cuff...I have to admit, I'm in love!

The best part of these weekends for me is always the connecting.  The sharing of hearts, the listening, the telling, the encouraging, maybe even the crying (it just has to be done sometimes).  It doesn't matter to me where it happens, be it in the van on the way home from the barn, or across the Starbucks table waiting for my flight.  My heart is at home when I'm able to connect with those I love.

So, thanks Kimberlee and Meg! Thanks for inviting me, and thanks for sharing life with me, even if it does span state lines with long months in between.  You two are awesome at what you do and it's a blessing to watch you minister and serve others! Love you both!!!!!

To My Girls -- My prayer is that you will always have a friend who knows you.  A friend who brings out the best in you.  And a friend that you can do the same for in return.

How God Redeemed My iPhone (even though it didn't need redeeming)

Friends, I'm going to tell you right now, I am technologically challenged...and I'm only 39.

It's one thing for an "older" person to struggle with all the new phones, all the social media options and everything in between.  But I'm 39 for pete's sake!  I'm not that old! Just figuring out how to get this blog set up and going took heroic efforts, not from me (heck, I had NO idea what I was doing!), but from my husband, daughter, and a multitude of friends who so graciously walked me through the process (and continue to do so).

I'm sure it doesn't help the fact that I've always been a bit late to the game.  I got email and a cell phone around the same time...like 9 years ago.  If you think back 9 years ago, I was not only late to the game, but the game was over and a whole new one had started!

But you know what?  I didn't care!  And at that time, as we got ready to move away from our family and friends, I had my phone and email...what more did a girl need!?!? 

Let me just stop here and say this, I also sometimes struggle with change.  Once I got my phone, I didn't really want to upgrade.  I knew my phone...it was almost as if my phone knew me.  Me and my flip phone, well...we were handling anything that was coming our way, and we were doing a dang good job of it! (even if I didn't have texting!)

As the years passed, I did grow to understand (and appreciate) the importance of change when it came to phones.  Although, I'll still admit that it took me awhile to transition from texting on my number keypad, which I had gotten very good at I must say, to an actual keypad with letters (are there correct terms for these separate keypads!?!? Who knows!)

(I loved this phone!)

Anyways, it was a surprise to no one a year and a half ago when I gave my upgrade to my oldest daughter, so that she could get an iPhone.  It just made sense...with this crazy new phone she could text, have access to the internet, take pictures, and even call! (ok, the "call" part is pushing it..but she could if she wanted to!)

Teachers were even having their students use their phones in class.  Did I want her to fail high school as a result of my own selfishness?  Of course not! Plus, I really liked my slide phone...what more did I need? Along with this was the fact that I always felt like the whole smart phone thing seemed a bit "worldly" (yes, I did just say that....do not close out this post just yet, I'm coming back to this!). So, my daughter upgraded to an iPhone, and I stayed in my happy place.

Over time, though, my happy place became less and less happy.  If other people used emojis in their texts to me, it read like hieroglyphics on my phone and at random times my phone would be unable to download various messages.  Being the communicator that I am (only meaning that I love to communicate!), not being able to read the texts sent to me was becoming unacceptable!  And so it was time to upgrade (thank goodness we had an upgrade in the family!).

But what was this churning inside of me?

You know that comment I made about my feelings towards smart phones?  Well, those feelings returned.  Was I honestly going to dive into the world of being an iPhone owner?  What would that say about me? These phones, it's as if they're taking over the world...did I really want to be a part of that?  Wasn't it more noble to live "simply" (i.e. keep my outdated phone with zero capabilities to help me figure out where I am when I get lost while driving)?

As I sat with these questions and tried to process why I was experiencing such turmoil, I was able to come to the realization that all of these thoughts and questions were merely a cover up for what I was really feeling.......fear.

Not fear that I was going to make some kind of moral mistake.  Not fear that I was taking part in something that might be unpleasing to my Father.  Oh no, I realized I was simply wrestling with the intense fear that my brain just might explode while trying to figure out how to navigate through life with this piece of technology.  And I began to dread the time and effort it would take to figure it all out.

I also feared how stupid and insecure it might make me feel.  Oiy......the truth comes out.

(I don't even know how this picture got on here.  One of my girls did it.)

But friends, here is the GREAT part of this whole long, rambling, what seems to be meaningless story.  I am here to say that me getting an iPhone has been one of the greatest most blessed experiences of my life (ok, maybe a bit of an exaggeration) and here's why...this crazy phone has provided me numerous opportunities to connect with my two teenage daughters, and I don't mean via texts or calls.

For the last 15 years, I have been the "teacher", the "expert".  I have played a major role in helping my daughters "figure it out".  But as they get older, they are figuring out how to learn on their own and they are needing me less.  This new season has left me floundering a bit.  I am so used to pouring into my daughters.  But now, I'm learning how to simply make myself available and wait for them to come to me.  It feels very foreign.  I need to find new ways to connect, but what does that look like....

I realize, at times, it just might look like reversing roles.  And my new phone has allowed me to do just that!  Being as severely challenged as I am in the area of technology/social media, I have needed my girls more times than not in the last three weeks.  But now it's my daughters that are teaching me, and I am looking at them with wide eyes of confusion.  They are the ones saying, "I've shown you this already, remember?" and I am the one saying, "Oh yeah, I forgot." (insert sheepish grin)

I can't tell you how much fun I had sitting on the couch with my oldest daughter and her friend as they walked me through what all the emojis meant.  How do people know these things!?!?  Or how hard we laughed as we sat across the living room sending random snapchats to each other.  My girls even took the opportunity to give me a lesson on how to take a good selfie...did you know that your supposed to cut off part of your face sometimes?!?  I had no idea!

(our first group selfie)

I also learned how powerful it can be to allow our children the experience of being the "teacher",  that few things break down walls like laughing at ourselves and putting our kiddos in the role of feeling needed, and that twitter is something that I'm not sure I'll ever fully understand.

So for now, I'm just going to try to embrace this new season.  Vaughn and I continue to pray that the Father might give us wisdom and insight as we parent.  I by no means feel equipped to walk my girls through their teenage years in the world that we live in, but I don't have to.  I serve a God who promises to help me in all things.  And what a creative God he is.  Who would've thought that He might use an iPhone to answer a few of my prayers!

To My Girls -- Thank you, girls, for doing your part to keep me a semi-hip mom.  Ok, maybe just a mom that's not completely out of it!:) Thank you for laughing with me (because I'm certain you are not laughing at me!).  Thank you for your random snapchats, for humoring me by laughing at my emoji use, and for still rescuing me with my technology questions.  Most of all, thanks for letting me be your mom.

Living My Story

Living a better story...

Donald Miller looks at this concept in his book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  If you haven't read it, DO! This book has wrecked me...in a good way.  I've been through the book several times.  The first two times I was challenged and inspired.

The third time rocked me!

The timing, the season I was in, the circumstances surrounding me, were all aligned in such a way that the question in this book, "What does it look like to live a better story?" third time around, left me feeling overwhelmed, doubtful, and discouraged.  I found myself longing to have the money to travel internationally with our girls, on mission together, giving them a bigger world view and a sense of who God is through these types of experiences.  Unfortunately, we don't have the money to fly 6 people anywhere right now.

I was captured by the idea in the book of living adventurously, and through this adventure, experiencing God.  I pictured our entire family biking through the mountains together, taking in the amazingly, creative work of his hands...and through this experience drawing closer together as a family and closer to God as our creator.  However, one small detail keeps this from being a reality....none of us have bikes! (ok, that's a big detail, I know)  And right now, six bikes just don't fit into our budget.

And so I swung to the other side of the spectrum and began to dream about all the ways we could live a better story through selling our house and all our possessions.  We could move to the inner city of Denver and live simply, relating to and doing life with the families that are in those neighborhoods.  There is a part of my heart that could get really excited about this....except for one thing....it's not where the Lord has called us right now.

And so I'm left with the question "What does it look like to be a middle class family, living in the suburbs, living a better story day to day?" At first I didn't love thinking about this...because to be honest with you, none of the answers sounded very romantic.  I realized that I had become captured by this idea of doing something "big" and "amazing".  Something others could point to and say, "Wow, they're really doing it!"  I longed for a sense of true purpose...I wanted to find purpose in something worth giving my life to!

And yet, my life kept getting in the way!  There were meals to prepare and laundry to do.  There was cleaning that needed to be done in order to host church in our living room.  There was homework to oversee and car pooling to cover.  And none of this felt like much of an "adventure" in any way!

Here is where the doubts came in and the discouragement.  Here is where the whispers of the ever crafty enemy were heard and listened to.  He must have had a script, because he knew just what to say.  It was as if he knew me... 

"You are wasting time with your life."

"What can you point to that is making a difference in this world?"

"Vaughn is a pastor AND teaching 8th grade in a high need, hard to fill teaching position.  Now that's living a better story!"

"You have friends that have found ways to incorporate ministry opportunities into their business, who have adopted orphans, who are volunteering in various ways."

"What are you doing that looks like anything?"

"You don't even feel equipped to parent your teenage daughters, so don't use the parent card to make yourself feel better!"

Ouch...that last dagger really hit its mark!  And I almost started to believe these lies.  Ok, I actually did believe them for several days...several very dark days.

But slowly over time,  I began to hear another voice.  This voice was so much more gentle. There was something in me that recognized the truth in what this voice was saying.  This voice, too, knew me, but I also heard a deep love in this voice.  This was the voice of the One who created me, the One who called me, the author of my life.  This was the voice of my Father, and so I listened...

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Luke 10:27)

But Lord!!!!

Really!?!?

You know I love you. And you know that we've tried to love our neighbors well. But I'm ready to do something exciting! Something big...something truly worthwhile (oh yes, believe me when I say that I felt this).

Then there was silence...

For several more days the Father allowed me to walk around like a spoiled brat, throwing a temper tantrum because my Daddy wouldn't help me do great things in His name.....or would He?

Little did I realize the work that was being done in my heart as I lamented the story I was living. And slowly my eyes were opened to the way my Father was at work in me and through me...

A spontaneous, meaningful conversation with a daughter, an opportunity to speak truth into a friend, the awareness to remain present in the given moment allowing myself to "re-see" the little lives around me and the value of pouring into them.

Gradually my heart is becoming captured once again with the everyday. I've been here before. I know the truth of living here. But somehow I had wandered...somehow I had lost my way.

Graciously my Father is bringing me back. Reminding me that living a better story is about loving Him and loving others. Reminding me that I was not meant to live someone else's story. Reminding me the value of being faithful with what He has given me and where He has me right now, knowing He will be faithful to me in return.

So, I ask myself once again, "What does it look like to be a middle class family, living in the suburbs, living a better story day to day?"

Right now, for me, it means continuing to press into my relationship with my Father...seeking Him, listening to Him, obeying Him, trusting Him.

It means battling hard against the lies of the enemy, reminding myself that my role as a mother is one of the greatest stories I have ever been invited to be a part of.

It means continuing to explore and wrestle with the idea Vaughn has had for doing a neighborhood meal once a week in our home. (We have numbers of friends who are doing this sort of thing in their own neighborhoods.  Is it time for us to do the same?)

It means being aware of those around me.

Donald Miller writes, "The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. The point of the story is never about the ending, remember. It's about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle."

I'm in the middle....and I'm being molded. My prayer is that through it all, I'm loving my Father and those around me well.

That feels like a story worth giving my life to!

To My Girls -- May you always remember that living a good story is simply about obedience and faithfulness.  Listen to what God is calling you to and obey.  Walk faithfully with Him (even when it's hard and it hurts) and I have no doubt that a great story will be the result.