Things My Children Are Teaching Me: Listening Skills

"I want to be a good listener!"

Bottom planted on the last step, she stomps her feet. Thuds reverberate across our old wooden floor.

When that doesn't get my attention she flops over like a rag doll beating her fists, shouting it again.

It has become her go-to phrase. Code for "I don't want to be in time-out." But there we are again, sitting on the stairs.

"Why didn't you listen to me?"

She glares at me. I glare back.

"I forgot," she says, innocence washing over her face.

"You forgot."

"I want to be a good listener now."

"If I had a nickel..." I contemplate whether to keep arguing or walk away so she can stew for a minute.

I want to scream. At her, at the wall, I just want to scream.

"Why can't you just obey?" I wonder, forcing my lips shut. "Why can't you just follow the simplest instructions?"

Behind eyes that plead for mercy, and despair in her tiny voice, I see anger and contempt. Her words feign compliance, but we've been through this dog and pony show before. She wants to do her thing.

Right there, in the middle of our showdown, it happens again.

It always happens right in the middle of things.

I'm not sure what to call it yet... an awareness... a lightbulb moment... though it's far more than a strange feeling or a new thought.

It's a flash of conversation, between God and I. He, showing me, what a fool I am. The error of my ways.

"You do the same thing," he points out.

"No I don't." I list off a good many ways I've been obedient, even faithful.

"Only when you want to be," he says.

I pause.

"You obey me in the big things, but you're slacking off in the small things. Things you decide are not such a big deal. Things that don't appeal to you. You busy yourself. You're not listening."

Ughhh.

I finish up with my child, who has a face so much like mine, and send her on her way.

I sit there for a minute. My turn on the stairs.

"Will you show me what I need to be working on? I think I forgot."

"Sure," he says.

"Will you help me see when I have my blinders on?"

"Of course," he says.

"Stay with me?" I ask.

"Yep," he says.

Simple. Ordinary. Every day. Beautiful.

I’m drawn to the concept that we participate with all of creation in proclaiming God’s glory, and that we are the caretakers of the earth. Theologians call this Creation Care.

I sipped the rest of my coffee as I thumbed through my textbook. The wind flickered over my pages, but I was just grateful to be outside before the weather turned. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of yellow and heard a thump behind me. There it lay on the cold cement. It strained to move, but could hardly roll over. 

My heart lurched and without thinking I went to it. I can't just let it lay there.

I held it close to my chest, shielding it from the wind. What now? I thought. I gingerly stroked it's head, and reassured it that everything was fine. I suppose I talked to it the way you might talk to a puppy. I hoped the sound of my voice, and the warmth in my fingers might help. 

It was incredibly stunned, but eventually came to and started looking around. 

I pushed away feelings that I was doing something totally weird, and in that moment became keenly aware that God was present. Right there, with me and the bird.

I’m not sure how else to describe it. I was full of love and inexplicable joy.

There we sat, and I marveled.

The bird and I were both created to glorify God, and God was sustaining the bird and I in every way. 

I couldn’t help but think that the tiny helpless bird in my hand was also a picture of me in the hand of God.  

I thought of the psalmist who asked of God, Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 17:8)

I reflected on the beautiful old hymn penned by Fanny Crosby, 

He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock

That shadows a dry, thirsty land

He hideth my life in the depths of his love

And covers me there with his hand

But mostly I just sat there with the bird, keenly aware that the bird and I were doing what we were made to do. The bird was glorifying God by its very existence. It lives and breathes and learns to fly. It builds a nest and seeks out its food. Everything it does is an act of worship. A beautiful song of praise to the One who created it. It is magnificent. 

The same goes for me and you. 

Simple. Ordinary. Every day. Beautiful.

We get to join the birds, and the flowers, and the rain, and the oxygen, and live a life of proclamation. 

God is good, and he has created great things. He is truly magnificent.

I eventually held my hand up, no longer in a shielded position but trying to encourage the bird to take flight. 

And off he flew.

Servant of Who?

Jon walked in the door after a week-long conference and handed me a little devotional on Romans. It had been a long week alone with the girls, and I was grateful for a chance to refresh and refocus.

I tumbled in, but didn't get far. Chapter 1, verse 1 stopped me.

Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God.

I read it a few time. 

Paul, a servant.

I thought about the word, and what it means to be one. 

I pictured someone in a king's castle, waiting quietly beside a throne for directions. Or busy working on the day's tasks. I let my mind wander a bit. 

Mostly though, I pictured someone waiting for direction.  

I thought about my life, and if daily activities reflected the role.  

We call him King Jesus. We believe God sits on a throne. In our prayers we say "Lord," and we ask him to order our days. 

But the question stood. Am I servant-like?

My pausing left me reflecting on my own habits. 

What a Servant Really Looks Like

What would if look like if I consistently lived out this role of servant? I sat with the question for a while.

I've always viewed "servanthood" as willing to help out when needed. But honestly, does a servant show up when needed?  Or does a servant show up and wait for directions?  

I think it's the latter.

I think we've got some messed up, backwards theology.  

What I mean is this: We have this impression that God is for us. And this is about us. We've twisted things around, making God the servant - expecting him to be waiting to help us in every need. 

We expect God to love us, and meet all our needs, and hear our cries, and help us get through life. 

And yeah, he basically does all those things.  I mean, kinda. (There is more to this idea, but that will have to be a discussion for a different day.)

I'm not saying we shouldn't expect those things from God. That's not the point.

The point is that those things are not the point.  

They are not the purpose.  

Our faith shouldn't be about what God is doing for us, and sometimes we make it about us. 

We get it backwards.  

We're supposed to be the servants.  Waiting on God.  Listening for his instruction.  Hanging out as he shows us his plans.  

*Raise your hand if you forgot that today.*

I love the end of the book of John, where Peter has denied Jesus three times, and Jesus comes back to confront him about it. Essentially, Peter had a moment where he decided to ditch his allegiance to Jesus, and worry about himself.  

Raise your hand, because #dailystruggle. 

Jesus asked Peter what he was going to choose. To decide where his allegiance lay - whether he was going to follow, or go his own way.  

You can hear the awkwardness in their exchange. Remember, they were the closest of friends, and Peter had bailed.


Catch what they say in John 21:15-19.

Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” (He was talking about his vocation/career/personal fulfillment.)

“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”

Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”

The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. ...Then he said to him, “Follow me!”

Jesus wanted to know if Peter was going to show up and wait for directions. Jesus had a big job for Peter, but he needed Peter to understand that he didn't come to meet Peters needs and give him a better life. He needed Peter to get to work.

What Does It Look Like To Be A Servant?

Let's be careful about how we organize our days.  Just like Jesus was asking for Peter's allegiance, and obedience, Jesus asks for ours.

Allegiance and obedience looks a lot like being a servant.  Waiting for direction.  Staying close, for whatever need might arise.

Before we throw up a quick prayer that God will help us get through our day, or help us find our keys (so guilty, every day), and then run off to tackle our day, let's stay close.

Let's stay listening.

Let's stay waiting. 

Let's stay asking what God needs from us.  

I can tell you from experience, this takes practice. Sometimes we don't hear right away, or it doesn't seem like God is listening to our request, or answering our prayer.  Most likely, it's because we just need to practice waiting and listening.  

Practice it while you're brushing your teeth.  Lord Jesus, I am your servant.  How can I serve you today? 

Practice it while you're filling the dishwasher.  Precious Father, what do you need from me today? 

Practice it while you're riding the elevator or sitting at a light.  God Almighty, what do you want to change in my thoughts and habits, so I can be a better reflection of you? 

Practice it while you're screaming at your children to be quiet.  Sweet Holy Spirit, help me not to kill them today... wait, that was just a joke!  But seriously, I can always take parenting advice from the Holy Spirit, if I take the time to listen. 

I encourage you to spend a few moments every day for the next week, waiting on the direction of the Lord. See what he unfolds for you. I'd love to hear how this goes for you, as we seek God together.

You are loved!

What a Trip to the ER Taught Me about Emotional Wounds

It had been a lazy morning, and after coffee, and playtime, and making a list of all we planned to accomplish for the day, I was finally getting dressed, when my phone rang.

"You need to take me to the ER."

"What happened?" I wondered, as I rushed downstairs.

When I got outside Jon grinned sheepishly at me, covered in dirt and sweat, with blood running down his leg and splattered all over the grass.

Tearing out an old ramp on our property, he had stepped down on a piece of jagged wood, slicing open a quarter-sized piece of skin on his calf.  Eww, I know. 

This wasn't what we had planned for our Memorial Day holiday, but, leaving a blood-soaked shoe in the grass, we headed for the ER.

The worst part was cleaning the wound. Dipping a sponge in solution, the nurses carefully disinfected around the wound, and the wound itself. He was grimacing something fierce, eyes shut tight, clenching his whole body in pain.  My mama bear instincts kicked in, and I found myself furiously kneading his shoulder, which was no help at all, except to make me feel a little better!

Stitched and bandaged, we headed home. I thought about wounds as we drove in silence.  On our bodies, and in our hearts.

If we hadn't gone to the ER, or cleaned out that big gash in his leg, it probably would have gotten infected, which would have led to other problems.  Despite all the pain he went through, choosing not to clean out that wound would have been a terrible decision.

We're so careful to attend to wounds on our bodies. Even through the pain, we clean them and bandage them, applying healing salve, or stitches, or sometimes just a tiny bandaid with a princess on it. Science and life experience have taught us that we have to act quickly, and we have to push through the pain, or we will have a bigger problem on our hands.

We know what we need to, and we do it whether we want to or not.

Unlike our physical wounds, we usually don't respond with the same sense of urgency to the wounds of our heart.

We nurse our aching hearts, letting our wounds fester, poisoning our thoughts and leaking into our attitudes and actions. Instead of attending to the hurts that plague us, we sit with our pain and brood over how hurt we are. Or we tell ourselves we're not that hurt, and shove our feelings away.

Can we shine a light on our hearts for just a minute?

Sitting in our pain, brooding over our hurt does us no good at the end of the day.  It is actually harmful. Like my daughters who beg me not to clean their ouchies, we spend wasted energy in fear of our own pain, and would rather leave our wounded heart gaping open than go through the painful process of cleaning out the ickies (yes, that is a technical term) inside us.

But it is just as dangerous to tell ourselves that we shouldn't be hurt by something, and try to ignore the hurt without processing through our grief or pain, as it is to acknowledge our pain without dealing with it.

It is important to know when to let something go, and when to recognize that we've been hurt.

If we don't, at some point, everything will boil over, causing more pain and grief.

Whether our pain comes from life's unexpected twists and turns, from the hand of another, or from our own inner voice, dealing with it always brings healing. Healing allows us to walk in freedom - strong, capable, and at ease.

Thankfully, we don't have to clean out our wounded hearts by ourselves.  Thank goodness we have a Comforter, the precious and gentle Holy Spirit, who reveals just how badly we are scraped up on the inside, and then gently helps us to clean out all that has caused our pain, binding us up again so that we can walk upright in healing and wholeness.

So what do you say, dear child of God? Will you join me in the brave and bold steps toward a cleaned-out, mended heart?  The first step is to say, "Lord, show me my heart. Help me to see what needs to be healed." And then let him lead from there.

You are loved!

P.S. I would love to pray for you! If you need someone to pray with you, please don't hesitate to ask!

When God Calls

I took a break from writing. I felt the nudge to step away for a while and do some listening.

For the girl who has always had something to say, I have found myself with nothing to say.

Heart quiet.  Mind still.

It's not so much that there is nothing to say... no, it's not that at all.

The choice to stop talking and start listening allowed me to move into a closeness with God that has been feeding my soul in new ways.

Last summer, over coffee, I told a close friend I was getting the sense that God was inviting me into a new stage.  The simplest way I could describe it was to compare my journey to a level on a video game - I had gone as far as I could in the level I was on, and it was time to go further.

I had this picture that stuck with me - I was walking by a wall that went on as far as I could see in either direction, too high for me to see over.  It was covered with ivy and overgrown bushes, and behind the weeds and branches I found a door.  I sensed it was time to go through the door, only I wasn't sure how to open it, or what would be on the other side.

On this break from writing I took steps to reevaluate my habits and refocus my thoughts. I am learning to quiet my heart, and to wait on the promptings of God.  To shift the focus of my prayers from me to Him.  I also read a lot, seeking the wisdom of others much wiser than myself. The book Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster was instrumental in renewing my desire to spend time with the Lord, and the book You Are What You Love by James K. A. Smith changed my perspective on my daily habits tremendously.

Out of this, a really cool thing has happened. Prayers asking for God to change me and guide the direction of my life faded, as I started praying to God about who He was. Don't get me wrong, those old prayers were good, and helpful. Still, God was calling me deeper, and it was time for new prayers.  He faithfully guided me in this new direction.

The longer I spend focusing on God, the more I want to know Him.  The more I know him, the more in awe of Him I became.  Even my Bible reading has become more enriching as He speaks to me through His Word.

The foretelling of Jesus in the book of Isaiah struck me deeply.  To picture Jesus, with nothing attractive in his outward appearance, and yet, for 2,000 years people have been so drawn to Him.  My prayer became a desire for people to be attracted to me because they sense the love of Jesus resonating from me, rather than because of any outward attraction that I might hold.

The story of the Israelites in a 40 year journey through a desert, following a cloud, impressed on my heart the need to stay directly under the instruction of the Lord, and how much He cares about the provisions we need along the journey. We know the stories of how the Lord delivered the people out of slavery, and provided food and water, ultimately leading them to their own land of freedom. It never occurred to me that they literally stayed under the pillar of cloud and fire, and only moved when it moved. I think about how different their story would have been if they decided they were done following the cloud, and set off on their own. Part of me wouldn't have blamed them - a year seems like a long time to sit under a cloud! But God provided and protected under that cloud. I have a richer understanding of guidance and obedience because of this story, and it makes me re-evaluate my own desires and plans. Am I following the direction of the Lord? Am I asking where it is He is leading me?

It was even good to be reminded He created each star in our vast universe. Nothing is lost to Him.

I am humbled and satisfied by this newfound presence, as I am more keenly aware of His constant nearness.

I find myself praising Him for the billowing clouds that roll overhead, and the tiny blades of grass that never cease to sprout up in the perfect shade of green.  I praise Him for the bees, marveling in His perfect plan to pollinate our plants all over this green earth through these tiny creatures.

I thank Him for His provisions, as He always seems to go before us, anticipating our every need.

My prayers used to revolve around me.  My fears, my needs, my wants, and my emotions.  But after shifting my focus off of me and on to Him, I have found my fears have faded, my needs and wants are an afterthought, and my emotions steady.  I am simply in awe of who He is.

I think this is called peace.

We seem to be hardwired to seek satisfaction, and we run after it our whole lives - both in healthy and unhealthy ways.  The longer I sit in the lap of the Father, the more I marvel that the truest satisfaction is found in Him.  

Overcoming Hurt

I got a text from a good friend the other day. 

How do I let go when it's so hard?  When it hurts so much?  When all I want to do is sweep in and take control? 

She's not alone in her struggle.  

Life wasn't supposed to turn out this way, we say. 

I had it all planned out, we say.  

What happened?  

The easy answer would have been for me to tell her that Jesus sees, and Jesus knows. To sit in the peace that God has her circumstances under control, even if she couldn't see it.  

I couldn't do that to her.  

Hard and messy isn't satisfied by easy answers and sweet thoughts.  When we have wounds gaping open that won't heal, an easy answer doesn't begin to bind up the pain, or help us work through the hurt. 

I dug in and laid a few things out for her.  Nuggets of truth I've learned along the way.  Lessons I'm still learning (emphasis on still).  

Tender to her pain, I started to type.

I know you're struggling and I'm sorry that you are.  A couple things I'm thinking of:

ONE: LETTING GO SUCKS, BUT IT'S A NECESSARY STEP

I think you are on the right track. Letting go is sooo hard.  But yes, letting go of the control and leaving it in Gods hands is the best place you can be.

TWO: START WITH YOUR OWN HEART

When I feel like I am not hearing from God or like God isn't answering my prayer, I have learned to start with myself. 

I ask God to show me any sin in my own heart, and anything I need to repent of. 

God will ask you to get your heart right with him before he will answer your prayer to work on someone else's heart. 

I learned that when I used to ask him to change Jon (HA!).  

So often I find myself unaware of sin that has rooted in my heart. Ask him to show you.

THREE: RECOGNIZE WHAT IS OUT OF YOUR CONTROL

Part of the problem in your situation is that other people are causing your pain- people who are still working toward a right heart with God. This is out of your control. God is calling them, and wants to work in their hearts, but they have to say yes to his call.

FOUR: PRAY FOR THEM WHEN THEY HURT YOU

Pray for the truth. 

Pray for (those causing you pain) to see and respond to the love of Christ. Pray that they have soft hearts- hearts that God can mold and shape. Pray that they have a desire to be changed.



If you're reading this, I don't know your struggle, or what has hurt you - whether it is a snag that has laid dormant, quietly infecting your heart, or whether your heart has endured blow after blow, leaving you bruised and bloodied, reeling, struggling to breath, to get up, to stand up and walk. 

I don't know your struggle, but I've shared a little in your pain.  It is part of our human condition.  We hurt each other.  We get hurt. 

Today, whatever your struggle, Jesus wants to walk you through it.  He doesn't want you to sit alone in your suffering, dwelling on a happy verse, like an Advil for an amputated limb.  He wants to walk you through your pain.  With you.  Guiding you.  

Will you let him? 

In the life-giving words of Isaiah in chapter 61, foretelling the mission of Jesus who was yet to come, 

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,

Because the Lord has anointed Me

To preach good tidings to the poor;

He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,

To proclaim liberty to the captives,

And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,

And the day of vengeance of our God;

To comfort all who mourn,

To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

Cling to him like he's your last chance and your best yes.  Take your eyes off your wounds, and place them squarely on his face.  Let go.  Start with your heart.  Know what you can and can't control.  Pray.

You are so loved.

Secret-Guarders and Iron Sharpeners and Dinner

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. Proverbs 27:17  

We don't do it enough, but we've gotten in the habit of scheduling time.  It started out as a lunch, and lunch was so good we said, We've got to do this again.  Soon. 

We joke about how, pre-kids, we saw each other all the time. We'd hop in the car and land on each others couches.  The presence of each others company would feed our souls, and we were full up on friendship.  

And then came the babies. 

The couches became empty reminders of friendship that looks way different now.  

Empty seat cushions that used to have a regular patron.  

Empty hearts, starving for friendship, for someone to talk to, for someone to hear our hearts and all the things clanging around in our heads.

After the longest, loneliest stretch of time, we started scheduling lunches. Once every few months or so. We'd catch up across the table.  

We'd share the good and the bad- our frustrations, our secret fears, our joys, our stumbling blocks, and our questions about what God was teaching us through our less than perfect circumstances. We were vulnerable, and honest with each other, and we found in each other honest love and great understanding.

Two of us became three of us, and we've found our rhythm.  Every few months, we come back together. And it's the BEST.

Sometimes we meet for lunch, and sometimes we get the kids in bed and go out for a late night dinner.  

Dinners are my favorite.  Dinners aren't rushed.  Dinners involve a fresh squirt of perfume, and lipstick, or new earrings- something that reminds me that I was once, before motherhood, a lady.  

But it's not the food, or the pretty people that make this time special.

We usually start with catching up on life, but doesn't take long for us to dive deeper.  

It honestly started almost by accident.  We'd power through our time together, trying to catch up on everything we'd missed since our last visit, and wanting to make the most of the time we had together.  There was not much room for small chat!

How are you is never an icebreaker for us, but it is a genuine, loving question - one we ask and answer with the deepest sincerity.  

What makes our time so precious isn't the stories that we have to tell, and it isn't that we have a sounding board, but that we trust each other.  

Friendship can be tricky, and sometimes a little scary.  Do I share what is really going on in my heart?  Will I be understood?  Misunderstood?  Or worse- judged?  What if by opening my mouth I push people away?  What if no one cares about what I'm saying?  

I think something happened, somewhere along the line, in our formative years, and somehow as women we got really good at concealing our hearts.

We are really good at talking, but we're not so good about baring our souls to each other.

We've all been burned before.  We've been judged, rejected and misunderstood.  We've been the odd one out.  The misfit.  The unwanted one.  We've been the one that talks too much, or the one who talks to little, or the one who just doesn't say the right things. 

We hide our hearts to keep them safe, from the judgers and the rejectors, and from the people who just might not understand us.  

It's really easy to sit in our safe space and only share the appealing parts of our hearts.  It's harder to share the rest.  

There's something really life-giving about knowing someone deeply.  We're not afraid to ask the tough questions to each other, but we're also not afraid to answer them. So sitting around tables, huddled over plates of pasta or sandwiches, drinking coffee or sipping wine, and even in a little pool as our babies swam around us once, we ask the tough questions.  

How are you, really?  

What's the best thing going on right now?  

What is the hardest thing you're going through?  

What is God teaching you?  

We talk about what we're reading, and learning.  We laugh over stories of our husbands and our children, and cry with each other over hurts and frustrations.  

Sometimes life just doesn't turn out the way we would have wanted.  Sometimes, we just want things to be different, and the weight of our out-of-control-ness can be stifling.  

The tender moments between us happen because we have handed each other grace.  

Grace to speak our minds, and explore our questions.  

Grace to mess up, coming along arm in arm when one of us realizes the other has gone down the lonely road of bitterness, offering hope and truth in the most gentle ways.  

Grace to lift each other up, and share humble wisdom.  

Grace enough to point to Jesus.  

Proverbs 27:17 says "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another."  These girls are my sharpeners.  

We are better because of each other.  Sometimes I'm on the right track, and sometimes I'm not.  These girls encourage, empathize and point me ever so lovingly in the right direction when I'm getting off course.

What is it about perspective that makes it so hard for me to "counsel" myself??  It is as if all my wisdom and understanding goes flying out the window when I'm in the thick of fighting off whatever is coming at me.  I can't see the big picture, I can't see the forest through the trees, and often my focus gets absorbed completely into my problem.  

In times when my way seems lost, or I fear I am stuck and will never get over the mountains in my way, I need people in my life who can show me new perspective, or help me look at things from a different or wider angle.  I need voices that encourage me to press on instead of wallowing in my self-pity.  

We were not created to do life alone.  We so often carry the burdens of our hearts, holding them in, believing that no one would understand, or want to carry our burdens with us.  

My encouragement to you today is to find your friend.  Find your people.  Find your tribe.  If you don't have one, seek one out.  Find someone trustworthy, someone you know your heart is safe with.  

If you have your people, be the best friend you can be.  I know, it's so cliche.  But do it anyway.  Be a secret-guarder and an encourager.  Be trusting and trustworthy.  Be observant and open-minded to the needs of your precious friend.  Be prayerful, and walk arm in arm with your besties, growing together in the grace of Jesus.  

Somehow we found each other, me and my people.  We could have easily chosen to be surface-level friends.  Little by little though, we took a leap of faith, and found the best of friendships waiting just beneath the surface of our tender, burned hearts.  

Praying for Rest

When I was twelve I was on a little parks and rec swim team in my little hometown, and that summer I lived in the water more than out.

My sister and I would get up early, as the summer sun was coming up and peaking into windows, while it was still early enough to be cold on a July morning, and we'd stumble out of the house and over to the pool.

We'd do morning practices and evening practices, and Saturday's we have meets.  It was glorious. Launch, splash, air, water, air, water, air, water.

I loved the rhythms of it, how each stroke made me feel like I was gliding, powerful and strong, a silent dance between me and the water.  It made me feel invincible, leaping out into the air, piercing through the water, and then with a flip of my feet back up and out again.  My favorite stroke was the freestyle.  It was like I could channel all my energy in one force, like a bullet shooting off the edge of the pool.  Mind you I was twelve, but even at twelve, I felt invincible.

It was one of the most refreshing, invigorating feelings, to pace and pace, water splashing around me. It made me happy.

I feel like I'm having this epiphany, where the racing against myself as a twelve year old was completely invigorating and fulfilling, but now, as a 34 year old, trying to 'adult,' it's not so invigorating, and I keep running out of steam.

Instead of flailing through the water at lightning speed, I'm barreling through laundry piles or grocery aisles, or the bedtime routine, holding my breath until I can just stop and sit down.

I'm barreling through work emails, or documents to edit, or problems to solve.  Just the other day I caught my sweet coworker trying to power through the pile on her desk so she wouldn't have it waiting for her on Monday.

We do this, this racing thing.

The season of life has created an especially intense "racing" in me.

It leaves me most days feeling like a rope unraveling, willing myself to hold it all together.  Breath held.  Still moving.

It's August- scratch that, it's October now, oi!- and I've been working this year on discipline and finding rest.  Two things that can often seem impossible for me.

I sat in the back of our little church ten months ago during our New Year's Eve service, as our pastor gently guided us to pray for our upcoming year, and I found myself silently asking for rest.

Asking is not the right word.  Begging.  I was begging.

It was a new prayer for me, and one I was not expecting.

I have prayed for wisdom, guidance, strength, and patience.  I've prayed that God would change my heart, and make it more like His.  I've prayed that God would help me to see things from His perspective rather than mine.  I've prayed all sorts of prayers for all sorts of things, but I've never asked for rest.

You know what?  He answered my prayer.

He did.  (((Like, whoaaaaaaa. Mind blown.))) (Ahem, I mean... not sure why I was surprised, but sheepishly I admit my surprise.)

Anyway, yes, I got to live out a year of answered prayer- in the coolest, and most unexpected ways.

In the beginning, I noticed a tangible refreshment of soul.

About four months in, I thanked God for the refreshment, but wondered aloud if He would provide any physical relief.

Low and behold, He did that too, orchestrating things I couldn't have imagined, with dear friends reaching out and offering to take my kids weekly so I could get to the grocery store, to new preschool schedules, and culminating with my parents moving across state lines and landing eight blocks away from my house.

*Holy hot tears of joy and relief.  He really does know what I need, and he really is making a way for all He has planned for me.*

But it started with listening.

I started with admitting my need for rest, and recognizing that He is the source of rest.

I started intentionally carving out time in the only space I had.  Predawn.

Predawn and I were not friends, but we're getting there.

In the discipline of getting up early - something as foreign and undesirable to me as meat is to a vegetarian, or glitter is to my husband - I am finding rest not in the snooze button but in the words on the pages of my Bible. 

There is something rest-giving about reading the Word.

There is something rest-giving about remembering who is King and who has saved my soul.

This same King led Moses into the wilderness, landed Esther in a palace, and sheltered David as he hid in caves running for his life.  This same King mapped out his plan of salvation from Adam through Isaiah and sent Jesus to save my soul some two thousand years later.

This same King spoke all creation into being, brings streams of water in the desert, and tells mountains to rise and fall.  This same savior said "Come, follow me, and I will forgive your sins and make you new," and I said YES!

I find rest in remembering these truths.  Rest from my anxious thoughts and rest from my mind that most of the time just won't stop.

I find rest in reprioritizing the list and remembering what is most important, and what is really just not.

Honestly though, even beyond all those good, positive thoughts, God is truly giving rest to me.

Like, in my bones, in my muscles, and capillaries, and neurons, physical, tangible renewed and rejuvinated rest.

This verse in Isaiah (40:31) has taken on a whole new meaning for me this year.

...but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

It's a new meaning to me because I'm experiencing it instead of just reading about it.

I'm living it instead of just hoping for it.

The Amplified Bible (AMP) version puts it this way (I love it!):

But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] Will gain new strength and renew their power; They will lift up their wings [and rise up close to God] like eagles [rising toward the sun]; They will run and not become weary, They will walk and not grow tired.

Did you catch the part about expecting, looking for, and hoping in Him?  

Isn't it ridiculous that we try to find God and rest and sanity and wholeness in all the places except by looking up and getting close to him?  

The Message puts it this way- you have to read it, it's just the best: 

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, “God has lost track of me. He doesn’t care what happens to me”? Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening? God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don’t get tired, they walk and don’t lag behind.

Sweet friend.  Join me in the rest.  Join me in the mission that God has called us on.  Join me in finding sanctuary in the one who has already got it all figured out.

Your life matters and you were put on this earth for a reason.  And it wasn't to live life so on-the-go that exhaustion is your new normal.

I'm not saying I'm never ever tired.  I am.  You will be too.

But I'm resting.  Let's rest in Him. 

Things My Children Are Teaching Me: Crayon on the Wall, Part 3

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand.

I'm hopping into Part 3 of a small series I'm doing called Things My Children Are Teaching Me: Crayon on the Wall.  You can read Part 1 and Part 2 to find out what came ahead of the things I'm parsing out in this post.  

Also, I couldn't help but add this cute pic of E on her fourth birthday, so proud of herself, as we are now almost 2 years past a moment I had in my dining room when E came down one morning and drew all over my dining room wall.  

The lessons I'm learning from that morning are still coming at me in waves, crashing over and saturating my soul.

Thank you Jesus.  

We live in a finite world, limited by the boundaries of time, and space, by our five senses and our human emotions. We know what we know, but there is so much that we just don't know. God's thoughts are so far beyond our grasp, so unattainable to us.

Like my child, who didn't understand why walls are not for coloring, so often we find ourselves not understanding the laws and plans and desires of our God.

The longer I am a parent, the more often I seem myself in them.  

Every tantrum is a reflection of my own heart.  

Face to the ground, kicking and screaming because I took away a toy that one was beating the other over the head with.  Sobbing and shrieking because I won't let them get down from the table until they eat (half of) their dinner.  I know, I'm such a mean mom.

I have been screamed at, slapped, spit on, kicked, bitten, head-butted, ramrodded, and just the other day an angry Cali tried to run over me with her tricycle.  I can’t even remember why. Oh, child.  I have held my own in showdowns, nose to nose, when they have no intention of listening or obeying.

In every situation there is one common thread: they want what they want, and they don't understand why I am not on board with their plans.

Despite whatever picture we have in our head of who God is, and what He is like, really, truly, He is just like the parent in a parent-child relationship.

He knows, and sometimes we just don't.

He knows what needs to develop in us, and what needs to stop- becaaaaauuse yes, adults have heart tantrums too.  

He knows what's coming, and He knows what will hurt us.  He knows what is good, and what we need, and He knows what will turn into a hot mess and what will get us into trouble. 

And sometimes, he needs us in a spot where he can use us.  Sometimes he has plans that just don’t jive with our “I want what I want” mentality. 

Sometimes, some times, I read this little gem, and it rearranges my tantrum face.

Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. (James 1:19) 

Yes, Lord, I'm listening.

Elin may not understand it, but if I were to let her draw all over my walls whenever she wanted to my home would be a disaster. 

It is hard enough to get her, now four years old, to consistently be a good listener. I can only imagine what a nightmare it would be if I never gave her any direction or discipline, and instead let her follow her every whim or desire.

Yet. Yet we so want that from God.  To follow our every whim and desire.

Our spiritual lives are shaped in a way that mirrors the parent-child relationship, with the boundaries and guidance of the Lord, to keep us safe, to keep us from hurting each other and ourselves.  

But also - also, and most importantly - so that we become accustomed to listening, and obeying.  

If you quit listening, dear child, and strike off on your own, you’ll soon be out of your depth. Proverbs 19:27 (The Message)

I have great intentions to keep E alive and fed, and growing... all that good, normal parenting stuff. 

I want to equip her to make it in this big world one day. 

I know that if I can teach her to listen and obey as a young child, instead of doing whatever she wants, whenever she wants, that she will learn on her own one day to seek out advice, and to make good, healthy decisions.

The book of Romans talks about this a lot. It talks about "the law" that is placed on our hearts. Basically it’s an innate sense of right and wrong (Romans 2:15).

A tangible picture of this is a parent, teaching a child.  

From the very beginning, before she was even talking, I have guided Elin, and I will continue to do this every step of the way for her.

The Book of John in chapter 10 gives this picture of sheep who know what to do because they recognize the voice of the shepherd- it’s the same concept for us.  It says “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.  I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand." (verses 27-28).

Just like sheep hear the shepherds voice, and just like my children hear my voice, the “law”, or the promptings to follow righteousness and seek out our faith, is the voice of God on our hearts.  

We may not be able to hear it with our ears, but that doesn’t make it any less real or tangible.  

God has written his law, or his Word, on our hearts and all over creation, just like I incorporate my wisdom and guidance into every moment I have with Elin. 

It is our job to listen, and it is His job to guide.  

It’s the listening that we have the hardest time with.

We don't have time for much, always in a hurry, drowning in busyness. This has been my struggle for years, and Jesus is whispering in my ears, No, stop, sit.  There’s a better way.

Listening looks a lot like quiet.  

Like stopping and waiting and asking.  

Lord, what do you want? God of the heavens, creator of all things, designer of every day and architect of every night, what is your plan?

And we keep asking, and He keeps guiding, because we all know there is no magical formula to parenting, a one-and-done if you will.  

Neither is there with the spiritual life.

Let my cry come before you, O LORD; give me understanding according to your word! Psalm 119:169

Part 1  

Part 2