What He Did and How He Did It

I have a burn on my arm today, and it hurts.

It is the result of an attempted batch of cheese toast yesterday…and a toddler who wouldn’t stay back when I opened the oven door. She was having a rough day, I think because of a tooth that persisted in pressing on her little gums and a nose that was stuffy, and fought me on everything I tried to do all day. Getting her to stand back as I got our toast out of the oven was but one of the day’s challenges, and by the time I burned my forearm on the edge of the oven, my patience was gone. I didn’t handle it well, and I’m not proud of the tone I used with her after it happened. It wasn’t a good moment for either of us, and though it wasn’t the first or the last frustrating thing about my day, it was the one that taught me a powerful lesson.

My burn, really, happened because I didn’t want it to happen to my daughter. Essentially, I burned myself so that my child wouldn’t feel the pain of the burn herself.

If you let yourself think about that for a minute, it’s a powerful illustration of what God did for us. He saw us in our disobedience and knew that it would result in untold pain and heartache for us; rather than allowing us to continue that way and meet with certain pain, He willingly subjected Himself to what was coming to us so that we would never have to feel it.

He stepped in to make sure we didn’t get burned.

The powerful thing about the illustration, though, isn’t just in what He did, but in how He did it. After I burned my arm yesterday, I lashed out. I was mad. I had told her to stay back, and because she didn’t, I got hurt. My arm stung and throbbed, and I was a little resentful of the pain I was in. I certainly wouldn’t have preferred that my little girl feel that instead of me, but I was angry that it had happened. I was resentful and angry and wasn’t as kind to her as I should have been in the moments that followed.

God, though……He never became enraged. He never became resentful of the pain He was in because of us and our disobedience. He never shouted an angry “I told you so” at us, and never had to cradle His head in His hands for a moment of respite. He only loved us with an ever-constant love, and extended to us an infinite grace.

I’m being reminded of that on a near-constant basis today. The burn on my arm is in an awkward place that is bumping against the table as I type this, and as I wince, I think of the pain He withstood for me…and the unfaltering love He has for me that made Him do it.

When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." (Luke 23:33-34)

Thoughts on 29

Today is my 29th birthday. That’s strange to me.

I don’t feel 29. I feel, maybe…oh, 23? 25? I don’t feel like I’m this close to 30. At least, I don’t feel the way I always thought I would feel when I was this close to 30.

In my younger years, I imagined it all differently. (I think it’s a sign that I’m getting older that I’m even using phrases like “in my younger years.” I know I never used to say things like that.) I never imagined my life situation itself being different, as I’m living my dream right now; I always thought I would feel different. I imagined that I would feel older….wiser….perhaps more “put together.” I thought I would feel like I had my ducks in a row more, and that I would really know what I was doing in life. I thought I would feel older, like I had actually lived the years that had passed by. I don’t, though. I feel like I somehow was transported in turbo speed through my 20s, cruising through the decade at the speed that most people go through a year.

I’m told that I’ll always feel that way. In talking to other people, I’ve been told many times that time only seems to speed up as you get older, and that having children only amplifies the phenomenon. I’ve heard that looking back, earlier years don’t seem nearly as distant and remote as this year did when I was much younger, and that the older I get, the truer that is.

I don’t know. It feels strange being this age, because something inside me feels like I really am 29…but something inside me feels like it’s all a joke. I look at my face, though, with its ever-increasing smile and laugh lines, and my hair, with it’s ever-increasing glimmers of gray, and something tells me that yes, I really am getting older.

While I don’t feel like I am old enough to have lived all of those years, I do feel like I really did live those years. True, for many years I was in a state of mere existence as I grew and searched for myself and more meaning to life, but in more recent years and especially today, I have definitely surpassed mere existence and have entered into real life. I’ve had so many wonderful experiences and have already come so far in my growth, and I know I’m not done yet. I know the years to come are going to be packed with surprises, both good and bad, and I’m really in a place right now where I can say that either way, I’m eager to see and embrace whatever it is.

I’m grateful for the life I’ve lived. It has been 29 years of growth and change, joy and sadness, laughter and tears. Wherever the next three decades take me, I’ll be forever grateful for the laugh lines and the gray hairs, and for the experiences that bring them on. God is using them all, and He’s promised not to quit working on me until He’s finished. I don’t know how long it will take, but I think that’s exciting.

Mom, Dad, Angelia, and newborn me (August 1981)

In Unexpected Ways (Part 3)

Today’s post is a continuation of two previous posts. If you haven’t already, I invite you to read those, which can be found here and here. Today’s post is the longest….. Please bear with me!

What I’ve learned this week is that God is not restricted by our circumstances or by what we think we can or cannot do. The only thing we can do to get in God’s way – whether He’s trying to bring His message to someone or bring us to our life’s purpose – is to resist. He is God, and all He needs is our cooperation and obedience. That, friends, is what I learned in a very unusual way this week.

The other night, as I usually do (when I’m not sick) on Tuesday nights, I packed up my bag. I loaded my computer, updated my iPod, and printed out notes. I made sure I had everything packed up for a productive day of writing at a local deli….because that’s what I do on Wednesdays. I write. That’s the plan.

As I started moving toward bed, though, a news story caught my attention on the 10:00 news. A local woman had been missing since Sunday night, and her friends were appealing to people to come help in the search. Something about that story grabbed my heart and tugged on it a little. Maybe it was that she has Down syndrome. Maybe it was that she doesn’t have any family left. Maybe it was just that she’s a woman, and I would want people helping to look for me if I were to vanish. Whatever it was that grabbed me, I was grabbed, indeed. I said a quick prayer: “Lord, if you want me to go there in the morning and help, bring it to mind in the morning.” I continued with my bedtime routine, saying a prayer for the missing woman and going to sleep.

I didn’t sleep long, though, before my sleep was interrupted. I woke up four times during the night, each time haunted by thoughts of this woman – lost, confused, scared – being out there somewhere away from home. I kept seeing her face from the picture they flashed on the news, and I couldn’t shake it. “God……you want me to go down there tomorrow, don’t you? But God…..I don’t know where the church is where the volunteers are meeting. I need to write tomorrow, too, because I’m so behind. I have lots of work to do, God….. You really want me to do that? Really?”

It was becoming increasingly obvious that yes, that was exactly what He wanted me to do. At about 4:00 Wednesday morning, I began re-planning my day, trying to figure out how I could find out where this church was on the complete opposite side of town and scheduling out my time in my head. Somewhere in there, too, were thoughts of how conspicuous I would be in the search. The church is deep in the downtown area, and is in a neighborhood that isn’t considered to be the safest. It’s downright dangerous, usually, and I laughed a little inside at the image of me – a petite fair-skinned stay-at-home mom in jeans and flip-flops – traipsing around the inner city and projects looking for a woman I’ve never met. You have to admit that it’s a pretty funny image.

When I got up this morning, the woman was still burning on my heart; I knew God hadn’t changed His mind somehow, and that I really was supposed to go help in the search. Please don’t get me wrong. I definitely thought about ignoring Him. I tried convincing myself that I was being crazy, thinking about going down there and doing that instead of catching up on long-neglected work. I tried telling myself that I was allowing the news people to pull a guilt trip on me. I tried it all, including just tuning it out completely, but it didn’t work. When I imagined seeing a story on that night’s news that the search had ended badly, I knew one thing for sure: I was going to help.

I dropped Leah off with her granddaddy and began making my way downtown, still completely unsure where I was going. The closer I got to the general vicinity, the faster my heart beat. I prayed the whole way: “Lord, please show me where to go. Lead me to the church. Show me where it is if this is really what You want me to do.” Sure enough, He did just that. The church rose up out of a crowd of abandoned houses, bright-colored walls and golden-spired, and was impossible to miss. I continued to pray: “You got me here, Lord. Show me where to park, and lead me to the people I need to talk to about helping.” The parking lot was huge, directly behind the church, and was filled with about 50 volunteers. I got out of my car.

“Hi! I want to help you find Pat.”

After sincere thanks, a pile of flyers was thrust into my hands. “Just spread them out. As many as you can. Near. Far. Wherever.”

“Okay……….”

Then a woman named Nell claimed me as her partner. She, an older black woman with an elaborate hairdo and a big, bright smile, led me to her car and we began our journey. We drove to a different section of downtown, talking the whole way as though we had known each other for years, where we parted ways with plans to convene again after a couple of hours. Off I went, wandering down Broad Street with my Gatorade and my pile of flyers.

I met a lot of interesting people. There was Michele, the costume shop owner who said she would pray for Pat and who had a feeling, she said, that everything was going to be okay. There was the Nigerian man in the art shop who thanked me for bringing the flyer in as though Pat were his own family member. There were the two dreadlocked men in the Caribbean restaurant who smirked as I walked in, thinking, I’m sure, that I was in the wrong place. There was the hostess at the pizza place and the owner of the day spa, who immediately posted the flyers and thanked me for what I was doing. There was the man in the bridal shop, waiting to help his son try on a tuxedo, who wished me luck and who took a couple of flyers himself.

Two hours passed, with lots of conversations and encounters along the way. Most of the conversations were short, and many of them had no real depth as the people I saw were all trying to work. I certainly don’t feel like I was a glowing witness for Christ in those interactions, since there was no time for much conversation. I was hot, sweaty, tired, and completely out of flyers when Nell and I met up again, and we headed back to the church for more instructions. We were greeted there by silence followed by a frenzy of activity: a tip had come in, and everyone was hopeful. After a few minutes, things calmed down as we learned that it was a false alarm. Pat was still missing.

As I waited for further instruction, I talked with Nell and an older man about the integration of the public school systems and about the miners trapped in Chile. We talked and had a good time….

…..though as I got in my car to leave, with nothing more I could do, I kind of scratched my head. “God……I don’t know what You needed me to do here today, but I did it….I hope. I did what You said….it doesn’t make sense to me, and I feel like I wasted my day and now I feel a little guilty for that….but I obeyed You. I did. And that feels good. I saw and talked to a lot of people…I hope maybe I planted a seed somewhere… Thank you for this experience.”

Bottom line? I have no idea why God wanted me to go down there and do that. I have no idea what He needed me to do there, or which of those people He needed me to meet, or why. Maybe someone I spoke to needed a gentle word from someone…or maybe my promise to someone that God had His eyes on Pat, wherever she was, was an encouragement. I don’t know any of that. All I know is that I felt a nudging…..and then a push…..and then a shove. I listened, but I almost didn’t. I was very nearly disobedient.

I don’t say any of this to get praise from you or to make myself look good for doing something nice. I say only this: I am just a normal person, with plans for my day and intentions and ideas of how things will go, but I am a person in love with the Lord. If He wants to blow my plans away and take me on some grand adventure that makes no sense to me or anyone else, I’m actually okay with that. I am. I heard on the news the other night that the search had, indeed, ended badly, and an investigation is underway….but I don’t question my part in the story. God wanted me to help. I obeyed. I don’t know why and ultimately, my presence didn’t affect the outcome. For some reason, though, God wanted me to go; it is only my hope that I did what He needed me to do that day.

This all may seem like a stretch to you, connecting with the idea of “Beautiful Feet” that I’ve been talking about. It doesn’t make much sense to me, either, but in the end, it was simply a lesson in obedience. Just when I was thinking that I was limited in what I could do for the Lord, He pulled me out of my routine and had a mission for me. He’s God, and I’m not. Period.

Taking a lesson from the “Beautiful Feet” series, I’ll take this with me from this experience: My feet may not be the most beautiful, but they are beautiful when they’re obediently walking the path God has for me….even if it makes no sense. And you? The same can be true for you.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD and shun evil. (Proverbs 3:5-7)

In Unexpected Ways (Part 2)

Today’s post is a continuation of one I began yesterday. If you haven’t already, I invite you to read that one first. It can be found here.

Thankfully, though, God has delivered a message more consistent with my beliefs and my spiritual gifts through this series, and even has gotten my heart a little stirred up and excited by the idea of sharing my faith with people. What we’ve learned through this series is that really, it’s about relationships.

Not diagrams and not steps.

Sharing our faith with others – in word or deed – should be done on a relational foundation. If the whole process of “personal evangelism” is a house, the relationships we have with other people are, essentially, the concrete slab anchoring the whole thing down.

It is important to know that none of us are expected to have a running tally of how many dozens of people we’ve prayed the prayer with and led to Christ. None of us are expected by Christ to have a new convert every day, week, or even year. That’s not what He wants from us. If it happens, terrific. If not, though, it’s not the end of the world. It does not make us an evangelistic failure.

We all have the ability to be a link in the chain that eventually leads someone to the Lord. We have that ability because we have the ability to be in relationship – real, authentic, genuine life-sharing relationship – with other people. What’s more, we have the responsibility and even the privilege of doing so. God saw our need for Him and, instead of sending someone else to take His message to the world, He made Himself in human form and came to do it Himself. He brought His message of love and hope and mercy and grace to us, and now has entrusted that message to us. He has, in a sense, passed the baton, and it’s up to us to continue the work that He began.

Our place in the chain may not be the first or the last. We may fall somewhere in the middle, not having the place of either introducing someone to Jesus for the first time or of witnessing their baptism. We may never see the fruits of our efforts and there may be many dozens of other links on either side of us, but that does not relieve us of the responsibility. We all have the ability and responsibility to carry on.

How will that look? What will we have to do?

That’s hard to say. In different relationships and different places at different times, we will need to do different things. Sometimes a diagram might be necessary. Who knows? Whatever we do, though, and whatever we say, the message should be one that points to Jesus.

To me, that’s not scary. If the focus is on Jesus, I’m doing it right and I can’t fail. That’s exciting. That’s intriguing. That brings a purpose and a mission to even the most ordinary of days and interactions. That gives meaning to life! Whatever I am doing, am I being obedient? Am I sharing Christ with the world? Am I doing what God asks me to do and going where He asks me to go? Am I being who He calls me to be?

To borrow the title from a book I’m reading, it’s an “unexpected adventure.” If we get excited about doing this kind of work in the world, God will use us. If we’re available to Him, He’s going to open opportunities for us to do things we may never have done without His leading.

And honestly, I still struggle with this some. I’m a stay-at-home mom, and I don’t have many friends who aren’t from my church. (Facebook friends don’t count…..do they?) That said, I am simply not around a lot of people and don’t have many opportunities to share my faith with someone. That's what I've thought, anyway. This week, though, I’ve learned that what I think is a restriction on what I can do, God sees as potential. All He really wants is an obedient heart…even when it makes no sense whatsoever to us.

(Stay tuned tomorrow for Part 3.)

In Unexpected Ways (Part 1)

We’re in a challenging series right now at my church. It’s called “Beautiful Feet,” and we’re talking about how we – as followers of Christ – can bring God’s love into our world in and, in very real ways, impact the world for Him.

I’m a member of the Worship Design Team, which works together to develop a concept of how our worship gatherings will go. We talk about each series several weeks (or months) in advance, and as soon as I heard the title and theme of this one, I got scared. Honestly, I was really scared. I didn’t want to talk about sharing my faith. I didn’t want to go there, and I didn’t like what I thought I would hear.

Let me explain where I was coming from. A few years ago, God led me to take a few classes at a seminary not too far from my house. One of those classes was entitled “Dynamic Personal Evangelism,” or something like that. I should have known from the title of the class that it was going to stretch me in some way, but I had no idea going in what I was getting into. What I was getting into, though, was a very step-by-step process of introducing people to the gospel and then, by the end of the conversation, welcoming them as my newest brother or sister in Christ.

Hel-lo. That was a completely crazy idea to me. My own evolution into a full-fledged follower of Christ had taken my entire life – 23 years at that point – and I could not imagine how I could sit down with someone and, in 15 or 20 or even 90 minutes, walk them through everything I had been through before placing my faith in the Lord. What’s more, we were expected, at different points in the course, to walk up to a complete stranger somewhere. Using a diagram something like this:

I was supposed to lead them to Christ. No relationship, no background story, no nothing. I could use some of my own testimony, but it had to literally be no more than 90 seconds and had to be memorized so it came out the same every time. Um……o-kay.

Let me say here that I don’t think this particular approach is wrong. I don’t think it’s bad or the people who use it are wrong in doing so. What I do think, though, is that this approach is not right for every Christian, and it’s certainly not right for every seeker. My professor was one who worked with businessmen on this kind of thing, and those men, probably, loved the straightforward, results-oriented presentation. For me, though, and the people in my life, this was not a good idea.

That was the hardest semester of my life. I won’t lie; I did fudge a little and stretch the confines of my assignments because I discerned that the people I would likely reach out to would not relate well to the approach I was supposed to use. I really feared that the confrontational style might do more harm than good. I wasn’t given alternative methods to use, though, because the bridge diagram and 90-second testimony were ascribed as the method to use. Period.

With that background, then, you can probably see why I was more than a little hesitant about the “Beautiful Feet” faith sharing series at my church. I love my church, and I trust its theology and methodology. However, the mere mention of “faith sharing” conjured unpleasant memories and I feared being placed in similar awkward situations. I was not looking forward to it, and I was not looking forward to having to get up in front of my church (because that’s what I do) and introduce the series to everyone. I wasn’t excited about it. I was scared of the series, and I didn’t want to invite others into the scary place where I was.

(Stay tuned tomorrow for Part 2.)

Beauty from Ashes:There are no coincidences.

Several weeks ago at my church, we did what are called “cardboard testimonies.” If you’re unfamiliar with the idea, it’s basically this: a piece of cardboard with your “before” story on one side, in just a few words, and your “now” or “after” story on the reverse side. It’s terrific and powerful and a fantastic community-building experience.

As a lead-in to the testimonies in worship that day, my pastor spoke for a few minutes about butterflies. He reminded us about the way that butterflies begin: as creepy crawly caterpillars that really, in all honesty, aren’t very pretty. Then he told us about the messy, goopy disgusting process the caterpillar must undergo to become the colorful butterflies we all love. To relate the story of these magnificent creatures to what we were doing in worship that day, he used this verse from scripture:

This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun! (2 Corinthians 5:17)

When he first began talking about this, I snapped to attention. A few days earlier, Leah and I had returned from a play date to find this in our driveway:

This is actually really unusual at our house. I don’t have a lot of flowering plants, while many of my neighbors do; the butterflies usually bypass my yard for tastier treats elsewhere. You can’t tell from this picture, either, but it was a really big butterfly, floundering and limping across my driveway in the mid-day sun. I immediately noticed its broken wing and determined myself to somehow save the day. When I put my hand down, he walked right onto it (WOW), and stayed in my hand for quite awhile (since, after all, it couldn’t fly away).

I didn’t think I could do much for him, so I told myself that getting him off the hot pavement and into the shade of my flowerbed was good enough. I set him down, and he continued to wobble and flounder in the pine straw.

He stayed there all day. I checked on him periodically through my family room window, and every time, he was right there….just about where I had left him, fluttering and floundering on the ground. It broke my heart. This beautiful little animal, just dying there in front of me, and there was nothing I could do.

He weighed heavily on my mind all day, and I just had this feeling that God wanted to teach me something through the little guy. I even posted about him on my Facebook status. I couldn’t get him off my mind, and I didn’t really know why.

Later that evening, I went outside and the inevitable had happened. He had died. I had known that would happen, of course, since butterflies aren’t known for their longevity, especially when wounded. It crushed me, though, and every time I’ve looked through my pictures since then, I’ve felt the weight of that loss all over again.

Knowing all of that, you can see why my pastor’s analogy using the butterfly caught my attention and held it. I was awestruck, somehow, but still couldn’t quite understand what I was supposed to learn from the whole thing. “Why, Lord, did that butterfly land in my driveway and why did I have that whole experience 3 days before this powerful experience in worship? What are you trying to teach me? What is there for me to learn from this?”

Honestly, I didn’t figure it all out until I sat down to write this post. In the process of writing, I’ve realized something.

We all, if we have our faith in Jesus, are new creations, just like that butterfly. We’ve gone through who knows what in our lives, coming through big messes to become who we are today. By His grace, the old is gone, and the new has come. We are new creations, free to live brand new lives.

However…..

…..if we don’t embrace that fact, we’re crippled. If we don’t embrace the new life that He wants us to have – the new life that He died to ensure we could have – our wings might as well be broken. We cannot hold on to regret or shame or pain or anger that come from our previous lives. We cannot let people tell us that we cannot do something we feel called to do. We can’t allow notions of who we used to be hinder who we have become. We cannot let anyone berate us or negate what we know to be true about ourselves, life, and God. We cannot allow those things to weigh us down. With those things on board, we will never fly, but will continue to flounder and flop in the dirt.

Friends, we were never intended to hang out on the ground. We were created to FLY.

Let it go. Whatever it is that is weighing you down or proverbially clipping your wings, let it go. Realize that you were meant to live for so much more, and that a life above and beyond anything you imagine is waiting for you. That’s the truth. He’s promised it.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! (Ephesians 3:20-21)

Thirsty

I get so frustrated with myself. I know what I need, but I make up every reason in the world not to make sure I get it. I feel a desperate thirst, but nothing can convince me that I need to tend to it. I feel myself withering, but instead of stopping to replenish, I keep pressing on…pushing on…until I very nearly collapse.

I get up every morning and say a quick prayer: “Lord, please take my day into your hands. Give me the strength and opportunity to do what you need me to do. Keep me close to your will.” Then my feet hit the floor, already running. Leah jabbers in the baby monitor, my stomach growls, and my day is off and running. Already, I’m thirsty, but I don’t stop to drink. I move ahead, becoming ever more parched, ignoring the basic need that tugs at me.

I need HIM. I need to sit with Him. I need to talk with Him – really talk, and listen, and exchange ideas and thoughts and little nothings – and allow myself time in His presence to change me. I need to breathe Him in, but instead, I run on…..exhaling…..exhaling…..exhaling……until I am empty.

When time or circumstances or priorities finally bring me to that quiet time, I soak it up. Parched, I drink and drink and drink until I can’t take in any more. I desperately try to replenish what time and life have drained away.

I was reminded of this tendency one day last week as Leah played at a nearby park. Though we had arrived early in the morning in an attempt to beat the heat, it was a really steamy day. It didn’t take long for me to be hot and sweaty from chasing her around the playground, and I knew she had to be hot, too. Around and around I chased her, asking her if she wanted juice or a snack, trying to get her to take the break from playing that I knew she needed. As I’d approach her, though, she’d bolt away, eager to continue playing and not willing to let her fun be interrupted. She had an agenda and didn’t want it disturbed.

“Leah, honey, are you thirsty? Let’s get some juice.”

“Do you want something to drink? Here’s your cup!”

“Look, Leah! I brought you some juice! Do you want some apple juice?”

There was nothing I could say or do to get her attention. She simply was not interested. As her mom, though, I knew she needed it, so I persisted. I pursued her intensely, knowing that it was best for her that she stop and replenish. Finally, I was able to get her. I picked her up and, surprisingly, didn’t meet any resistance as I placed her back in her umbrella stroller with her cold juice cup. As she sat and drank, I pushed the stroller away from the playground and into a shaded picnic area. She drank and drank, chugging the juice until it was gone. When she reached the bottom of the cup, she asked for more. I told her that there was more in the car and that we would have to go get it; again, she didn’t resist. She finally knew what she needed and was eager to get it.

My sweet girl reminded me that morning of my sad tendency to involve myself in the fun and important things of life, forgetting about the essential things. I rush around doing what I feel is important, ignoring the things that are critical for my survival. In the midst of my hustle and bustle and created busy-ness, though, God pursues me, knowing what I need and never stopping until I am willing to take it. He knows me better than I know myself, and cares enough to never stop chasing me.

As a deer longs for streams of water, so I long for You, God. I thirst for God, the living God. When can I come and appear before God? (Psalm 42:1-2)

Be still, and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

A Special Reminder

I love watching Leah and Scott together. She just loves, loves, loves her daddy, and fortunately, he’s getting to see some of that affection for himself. For quite awhile, she lingered in her “mommy” phase, wanting me and only me. No one else would do, even though for most of every day I worked hard to explain to her that while Daddy isn’t here, he will be here soon.

“No, sweetie. Daddy’s not here. Daddy’s at work. He’ll be home in a couple of hours, though. No, honey. He’s not outside. He’s at work.” On and on my explanations would go, but as soon as he walked in the door, she’d climb up me, fearful, I think, that his arrival meant I was leaving.

Now, though, they’re starting to really enjoy their times together. (This is a good thing, since I’m again bedridden with strep throat this week.)

It’s neat to see her growing and her features changing, too, because as she does, she is starting to look more and more like him. When she was first born, everyone said she looked like me, but I hardly ever get that response any more. Everyone calls her “little Scott” because of how much she looks like him.

While there is something neat about having people clearly recognize your features in your child, to me, it is even better to have them see your partner. She is my daughter, but she came from both of us. As graphic as it seems, I described it to a friend this way: “She came out of my body, but she looks like him. There’s something incredible about that, and it’s one more way that God reveals Himself in her creation.”

Some people would probably disagree with me, wishing instead that their children looked like themselves. For me, though, I love looking at her and seeing her daddy. There’s something beautiful to be learned from that. I cherish that.

Love, Mommy

A picture of Leah and me in the hospital, the day after she was born. It’s on the first page of her journal.

When I found out we were expecting Leah, my heart was bursting with things I wanted to say to her. I didn’t know at the time that she was a girl, and I certainly couldn’t have imagined all that she is to us, but I had so many thoughts and feelings that just burned to get out. I wrote her a few letters when I was pregnant – mostly of the, “I can’t wait to meet you,” variety – and have continued them ever since.

Many of these letters have been posted here, on my blog, because I didn’t really know where else to preserve them. I imagined eventually printing the pages out for her, binding them into some sort of a book for her to read when she got older. Something about that didn’t seem quite right, though. Maybe it was that that method wouldn’t produce handwritten letters for Leah to read, or that regardless of the content of the letters, it seemed really impersonal. After talking with a dear friend, though, I have found the answer.

I have a large journal full of blank pages. I’ve rewritten the letters from the past into the book, and now am writing directly into the journal. She won’t be able to read the letters for a very long time, so I’m keeping them for her for one day in the future. My thought, right now, is that I’ll give the whole journal to her when she has her first child. It’s possible that that plan could change, but I know that I’ll know when the time is right. I just want her to know all that I hope for her….feel for her…..pray for her….in a way that she can’t grasp in words now, but can only know by how I love her. It’s a sweet way of capturing these early years, too, and of really seizing every moment. I think she’ll appreciate it one day, and in the meantime, I'm enjoying doing it for her.

“Captivating,” by John and Stasi Eldredge

In the wee hours of the morning this morning, I finished reading Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul, by John and Stasi Eldredge. What an incredible book!

I have to confess that I had actually read this one before. I borrowed a copy from a friend a few years ago and loved it so much that I subsequently bought copies as gifts for a number of ladies in my life. Unfortunately, I never got a copy for myself and, since this one is a “revised and expanded” edition, I jumped at the chance to get a free copy from the publisher.

This is a fantastic book. The husband and wife team of writers is terrific at revealing the heart of a woman: why we were made the way we’re made, why we feel the way we feel, why we long for the things we long for, and why we struggle the way that we do. Through Biblical example and everyday accounts of women just like us, the authors show that while every woman is unique and special, no woman has or will suffer alone. We’re all in this together, and while the world has worked steadily throughout history to silence women and stifle all that we were created to be, God has a special and powerful plan for our lives. He made us to fulfill a specific purpose, and everything in us points us to that.

It isn’t a feminist “women rule!” kind of book, though. It is open and honest about the things that women struggle with and have failed at, and helps me to see that nothing that has happened in my life has been random or arbitrary. God has a plan for my life, but so does my enemy; everything in life can be used for one side or the other.

I highly recommend this book to the women in your life. Young women just starting out and trying to find their place in the world….women with grown children who are finding themselves in a new place…..older women who feel like most of their story has already been written. It is an empowering book that encourages soul searching and introspection, self-evaluation and assessment.

From the Inside Out

The transformation is complete.

When my husband and I found out that a little one was on the way, our home began changing almost immediately. A teddy bear here, a baby blanket there, and soon our minimalist contemporary style had strong childish influences. It began upstairs, in what eventually became our daughter’s room. The wall color became more nursery-like, the decor became baby friendly, and the closet’s contents shrank in size (not quantity) to about one one-hundredth of their previous size. As friends and family came to visit, their comments were all nearly the same: “Wow…..this place is looking pretty different.”

And once she was born? Oh, yes…..the changes continued. From the infant swing in the family room to the tiny clothes in the dryer to the bottles in the refrigerator to the baby tub in the bathroom, it was obvious that things had changed and that something new was happening.

With her growing more and more, and with summertime encouraging outdoor play, the changes are not limited to the inside of the house any more. I marvel at it every time I approach the house after running errands; the house looks really different now than it did even a year ago, much less when it was a bachelor pad. As you drive up now, you see a variety of rainbow-colored plastic items livening up the yard: a pink and purple pinwheel in the flower bed, a green toddler chair on the porch, a yellow tricycle on the walkway, a blue swimming pool in the driveway, and a multi-colored playground in the backyard. Yes, things are definitely different around here, and now it’s obvious to outsiders, too. Gone are the days when neighbors and passersby might have been unaware that a child lived here. The changes began slowly, on the inside, from one room to another, and no longer can be contained. The transformation is complete.

As I drove up to the house this morning, I thought about all of the changes and how it reminds me of what God does in each of us. When we first meet Him, the changes begin. A shifted attitude here, a more loving approach there, and soon our worldly lifestyle develops a hint that something new is going on. As we open the door and let Him into our lives, He moves from room to room, changing what needs to be changed and adding His touches where they are needed. He doesn’t blow through like a hurricane and change everything at once, but nudges us and makes gradual adjustments to make us more like Him. At first the changes are evident only to ourselves, and then to those closest to us. We seem different, and it is clear that something has happened in our lives to change us. Gradually, though, the improvements are clear to everyone, even if they didn’t know us before. The changes seep their way outside and, before we know it, the light of Jesus Christ is shining throughout our lives. There is something about us that people notice, even if they can’t quite put their fingers on it, and it is clear that there is something different going on within us. It shows. It can’t be held inside any longer, but instead radiates outward for everyone to enjoy. The transformation is not yet complete, but God has promised that He will keep working on us until it is finished.

He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)

Practice these things; be committed to them, so that your progress may be evident to all. Be conscientious about yourself and your teaching; persevere in these things, for by doing this you will save both yourself and your hearers. (1 Timothy 4:15-16)

Day to Day: Leah at 18+ Months

Looking Forward

When my passport came in the mail the other day, I eagerly ripped the envelope open. I turned it upside down to empty all of the contents onto the kitchen table, and noticed a conspicuous absence in the little pile. There was only one passport.

I had been under the impression that they would return my original one, since I was getting a new one only because my name needed to be changed from my maiden name. I don’t know how I got that impression, but I had been counting on it. The original passport had sentimental value in the stamps it contained. I had v isited Spain and Morocco on that passport, and memories of those adventures came flooding back when I saw the stamps. (The Moroccan stamp was in Arabic, too, which I adored.) It also had a stamp from United States customs; for some reason, that always made me smile, too. That passport went with me on our honeymoon… The memories go on and on.

But now…those stamps are gone. In their place, I have a brand new passport with zero stamps. Nothing but empty pages fill up the little booklet. A new picture and a new name adorn the first page. It is a new book with no stories to tell.

I can’t lie. I’ve been resisting the urge to cry my eyes out over the lost stamps. I am, by nature, a very sentimental person, known to keep things from past experiences for no reason other than to know that they’re still around. Those stamps gave me some comfort, somehow, reminding me of challenges I overcame and adventures I survived. I have many, many pictures, and many, many other trinkets from my travels, but those stamps….they were special somehow.

And now they’re gone forever. I couldn’t get them back if I tried.

The other night, as I allowed myself to think about the loss for more than a second or two (which I had been avoiding, for fear of sadness and remorse), something occurred to me. My passport has been wiped clean. My slate, so to speak, has been cleared, and there is no record of anything that I did in the past. There is no record to remind me of the past. The only thing left to do is move forward.

And the double meaning? I think it’s clear.

Just as my passport has been replaced with a brand new one, free from memories and stamps and wrinkles from being crammed in carry-on bags, my record in life is clear. Jesus Christ, by His infinite grace and mercy, has cleared my record. Anything and everything from my past has been cleared. There is nothing tarnishing the image of my life. There is nothing to remind me of who I was or what I did. All I have is a clean slate, a fresh start, and endless possibility.

It isn’t even as though I received that gift only once, either. It is as though the United States State Department is hand delivering a brand new passport every single morning with the message, “Here is your day. Where will you go with it?”

My God has promised me mercies that are renewed every single morning and grace that is sufficient for every single moment. There is no reason to look back, and every opportunity to look forward. Where I have been and what I have done is irrelevant. What I will do remains to be seen.

Acts 20:20

I had a dream last week. It was a strange dream, and though I don’t remember all of the details, I remember one thing very clearly.

I remember there being a verse from Acts. Acts 20:20, to be specific.

As soon as I got up and remembered the verse playing a part in the subconscious meanderings of my mind, I looked it up.

You know that I have not hesitated to preach anything that would be helpful to you but have taught you publicly and from house to house. (Acts 20:20 NIV)

Let me say here that it is not uncommon for me to remember parts of my dreams. Usually, though, the parts I remember are bizarre and incoherent. Sometimes they are easily deciphered into clear symbols of things going on in my life, and sometimes the resemblance is more blatant. Rarely, though, do I remember anything like what I remember from last night.

Acts 20:20. In another translation, it reads like this:

I never shrank back from telling you what you needed to hear, either publicly or in your homes. (NLT)

And in yet another, like this:

I didn't skimp or trim in any way. Every truth and encouragement that could have made a difference to you, you got. I taught you out in public and I taught you in your homes. (MSG)

I don’t quite know what to do with this. I’ve never had anything come to me in a dream like that…much less something that seems, in an odd twist, to actually apply to my life. I speak in front of my church, and I write for you here; in both settings, I try to share the encouragement God has given me and pass on any lessons I feel might draw you closer to the life you’re meant to live. I’ve been meditating on this for a few days now, and take this verse from my dreams as affirmation that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing right now. Really, that’s all I can hope for, so I’m happy.