for when it happens... {letters to my four}

there are some things i've learned as i come to the mid point of my life,  and should i be given another 37, almost 36 years, i'm sure i will learn a lot more.

i could come to this place in my life and focus on the one thing that seems to dog my every step,

you will mess up.

not if.

not maybe.

but when.

there will be a myriad of reasons, sweet ones. there will be circumstances beyond your control and there will be details that are very much a part of you and the action you take.  

it's just how it is.

and you can take a look at your mess and feel hopeless.

like you have messed up so badly that there is no way to fix it.

i think i was there.

no, that's not true.

i know i was there.

you may know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has placed a call on your life.  made it clearer than anything and you keep taking the next step forward each day because you know, eventually, you are going to get there.

and then, you trip. 

you land flat on your face.

you drip with the mess you landed yourself in.

and the one who deceives, he comes close and he whispers those words that sink deep and your heart will sink deeper still.

failure

worthless

un-usable

and you may think that all you are good for is to be placed high up on that shelf of the broken,

the useless,

the screw-ups.

and that focus? the one that zeros in on the mess? 

it will keep you there.

my bible study leader, miss sue, the one who keeps placing me at her table each session, she finds me and tells me to come again for the next one. who cares that i have a newborn! didn't i know how many arms would hold her?  

so i go, and i soak it in. i soak in the message of mercy and i let God get to the tender places that fester with hurt and pain and, dare i say it, anger.

but still i believed, no matter how wrongly, that sure, He can get to those places, heal them and clean them up, but now i'll just be a cleaned up, healed up, broken and useless screw-up saint high up there on the shelf.

right?

that's how it works, isn't it?

oh - i pray that i show you differently.

i pray that you all see it differently than i ever saw it.

because He is becoming what i crave - i can't get enough of Him. this Jesus who continually takes your mama-who-messes-up every. day. and He keeps bending down in the sand and writing out that plan.  He does.  He really does. 

and this is what i learned in that study on james: 

 he was one of the Lord's brothers who mocked Him and called Him mad. 

he was the half-brother of Jesus who didn't believe, but became the head of the Early Church in Jerusalem.

he messed up.

all those years, growing up with Jesus, living life with Creator God and he didn't see. he didn't see His Savior standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

instead, he called Jesus crazy.

but even then, God had a call on his life.

even then.

it never changed.

it never wavered.

"for I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord, "plans for welfare 

and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. then you will call upon Me 

and come and pray to Me, and I will hear you. you will seek Me and find Me 

when you seek Me with all your heart."

jeremiah 29:11-13

you aren't going to take Him by surprise when you mess up.

He already knows.

His plan covers all that.

no, it probably would have been best if you don't make the choices that you will, that maybe you should have looked a bit closer at the path before you tripped and fell, but where you can only see a bit of the road ahead,  He sees the whole world held in His Hands.

if you find yourself dusty and hidden high up on a saintly shelf, know this - Jesus didn't put you there.

you did.

so climb down - wrestle with Him if you have to, let Him work out in you what needs to be worked out. you may find yourself limping afterwards a bit, but keep walking, little one.

keep walking.

the path ahead of you is all part of His plan...

in everything...

it seems to come in the quiet of those late hours, those feelings that you've failed and you're too broken and all the things that you did that you wish you didn't come back to haunt and you feel broken.

wasted.

useless.


when it seems like what the future holds is too much and the resources you have are too little and how in the world are you going to make it?


he came in late and tired last night, sat down in the couch near me and rested his head on the back of that pillow.

with his eyes close, he said my name,

talk to me, kimberley.


and it comes pouring out, the pain, the fear, the shame and he listens all quiet and sure.

and he knows because he's carried his own pain, regrets, scars...

he's shouldered a lot of my own heavy as well.

he knows.


and we sit there, together, in the silence.


sometimes we need to be still so we can know He is there.

(photo credit: becky frame)

and his own burdens come out, story by story,

of the siblings whose mama walked away 3 years ago, of their daddy in prison and the oldest boy working a full time job plus taking on the responsibility of school and taking care of the younger ones...

of the children with no running water...

of the broken and shattered families who come to dinner each evening...


brokenness is everywhere.

everywhere.

and after we read through the first chapter of ezra together, he says quietly in the lamplight,

maybe everything we've been through, everything that has left a scar, has been placed there beautifully by the Hand of God so that we could be prepared for what He had been preparing for us here...


i can't get it out of my head...

that thought.

each scar, each pain-filled moment, has a purpose, a use.


a friend sat at my table this afternoon while i scooped up cookie dough onto those parchment-lined pans.  she shared from her heart as my cookies failed, again - spread out and didn't hold together.

she made a comment,

maybe my scars don't heal over completely so that He can use that pain...

can our pain be a balm for another hurting heart?


His scars, that He will carry throughout all of eternity, continually point out the life and healing He offers - should i really be surprised that my scars never, really, completely go away either?


the last few days have been filled with the reminder that the secret to joy is found in seeing Him in everything.

most especially in the pain-filled-everything.

it was in the pain-filled words of eli the priest, after the Lord came to the child named samuel and called him by name - when the message from God was anything but good...

but it's there, straight from the mouth of the man who received such horrible news,

He is the Lord; let Him do what is good in His eyes. 

1 samuel 3:18

i can come before Jesus and ask for painful situations to change, i can beg for a different outcome, i can hope for a better tomorrow, but sometimes, sometimes what He asks is for us to embrace what hurts and receive it as straight from His Hands.

He is good.

we can trust that.

and while we may not be able to understand why He allows what He allows, we can be open vessels, willing and waiting for Him to use you and me.

because He takes our broken, what should be thrown away and discarded and amazingly and for reasons i can't even comprehend, He uses it - all of it for His glory.


how can i not praise Him?

if i see God in everything, He will calm and colour everything i see! perhaps

the circumstances causing my sorrows will not be removed and my situation will remain the same,

but if Christ is brought into my grief and gloom as my Lord and Master, He will "surround me with songs of deliverance" (ps 32:7) To see Him and to be sure that His wisdom and power never fail and His love never changes, to know that even His most distressing dealings with me 

are for my deepest spiritual gain, is to be able to say in the midst of bereavement, sorrow, pain and loss, "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord

be praised" (job 1:21).

...nothing but seeing God will completely put an end to all complaining and thoughts of 

rebellion.

~hannah whitall smith

lessons in the messy...

he comes home to find me a mess.

packages of chicken thighs that normally hold a set amount all wrapped up in prepackaged plastic are each missing one and they need to be in the oven five minutes ago.


the floor that i had vacuumed at 10 was a disaster again by 4

the children that had been shouting all morning were now full on fighting

and my last nerve

was

being

stretched

very

thin.


he walks in the door to find his wife barely holding it together.


or maybe,

if i'm to be honest,

not holding it together at all.


he walks into the kitchen and stands in my way.

on purpose.

won't budge from that spot as i try and force my way around him,

exhaling loudly

and sighing impatiently

and biting my lip so i don't cry.


he knows this.

because he knows me.

and he keeps standing there.




he knows why i'm about to fall apart.


the microwave beeps

and the third package of chicken is laid down and pulled apart.

i oil and stuff and salt and pepper and place them on that rack

and set them all into the oven.


and that's when he says something,


they put their pants on this morning one leg at a time,


just like us.


and i want to laugh and cry and i did a little bit,

because it's true.


in this year hollowed out and named new

i was trying to stuff it up full with the hurt from the old...


i forgot that what He spoke in the dark of the first month

can still apply in the chaos of the second.


that when He asks us to abide, we can trust that He knows 

and those new roads He leads us on have been traveled by His feet first.


it's safe to trust Him...

even when you are scared to.

even when you have been hurt before.

even when the landscape around you leaves you feeling disorientated at the oddest of times.


He is trustworthy.


and even if you have lost it all

but you still have Him...


you have Everything.

and those new roads through those new places?

they lead closer to Him...

indeed i count everything as loss because of the surpassing

worth of  knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. for His sake i have suffered the loss

of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that i 

may gain Christ, and be found in Him...

philippians 3:8-9a

when the year before you is *new*...

it's on the evening of a new year that my arms are filled with new life.

a tiny bundle of pink perfection and i stand there,

lost in the weightless weightlessness of her.


her two-day-old eyes blink up at me,

her perfect rose-bud shaped mouth opens, as though caught in surprise that the arms holding her are not her mother's.


but she lays in the curve of my arms and looks up at me.

and doesn't make a sound.


january entered in as she always does,

with great fanfare and noise.

the fireworks sounded above this house as the clock sat on midnight for those 60 seconds...

 and i sat on the couch and felt the weight of the sad lift and ease off of these shoulders.


i sat and waited for what the name of this coming year would be.


the first name came in the before of it all falling apart.  it was 2010 that taught me how to abide in a way i had never experienced in all the years i've known Him.

the second name came in the midst of days that were lost in upheaval and pain.  it was 2011 that taught me to trust in the One Who means it when He says, I know.


and i've wondered for the past 2 months what these next 366 days would be woven together with...what word He would use to reveal Himself to this heart that wants to know.


the 31st came and went and i still was unsure what it was to be.

could this year be one without a naming?  without a focus?  would He mean to leave me without a word to point me to Him?

it's possible.


until i sat on the couch in a house quiet and sleepy as the colours overhead exploded with joy and noise that the words began to float through...

see,  I am doing a new thing...!

my years previously named and lived through have been surrounded with loss and chaos and pain.

this year has the  potential of experiencing all of those as well...

but, in the uncertainty of a future that only He knows, can i choose to trust that in the joy and in the pain, that He can do something new?


i looked up the rest of the words to the phrase that tumbled around in my heart all day and i couldn't help but smile wide as i realized what He was saying...

see,  I am doing a new thing! now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.  

isaiah 43:19

no, i don't think i could have perceived all that He was trying to do in these last two years.  i don't think i ever will be fully able to see it.  but through the naming, He has asked me to actively participate and trust that I would come to know Him better through each one.

as i look back, i see how He had to strip so much away so that He could do something new...to make a way and to pour life back in.


i don't know what this coming year holds.


but, whatever it is...i believe it will prove to be a journey that has me loving Him in new ways, learning about Him in new ways and learning to trust Him with a love made new.

the year before you lies bundled up in possibility and hope.

the days ahead may be filled with light or broken in dark,

but regardless of what is ahead, will you join me and look to see all that He will make new...

happy  new year, sweet friend.  

when it's in the call overhead...

the rain fell tonight on my face looking up

but i didn't really mind.


i heard their call as they flew towards me,

high up overhead and i watched them circle round,

straight over my house.


i closed my eyes,

lost myself in the distinct sound of home

and heard something more...


they fly right above my head and i can hear it,

in the silence and the rain;

the strength in their wings that push through the air,

as they struggle to form that V.


i opened my eyes to fully see what i was hearing

and together, in tandem,  their wings sound like the ocean...

like the rippling of grain bowed golden in a prairie wind...

and my memories feel like those geese,

the ones who fly south in a mild december sky.

as they struggle and heave to make sense of those days and nights from 2 years ago.


but the one that i can't seem to let go of?

the one that seems to take the lead and push through and past air that fights back with pain?

it's from that last night, the 28th, from two decembers ago,

where we sit at a table filled with cards to play pinochle and they all know,

he knows i wasn't raised in a house that played cards.

he knows, they all know, that to choose to be on my team means sure and swift and utter loss.


but still,

he chose me.


and it's this memory, more than any other, that leaves the largest gap in my heart tonight.


but, in the way that he always did, he points me back to Jesus.


and in words spoken to His twelve that He loved,

they remind me of the heart of the man who pulled me in and called me his own,

you did not choose Me, but I chose you

and appointed you to go and bear fruit - 

fruit that will last...

john 15:16

and i stand under a sky filled with the call of canadian geese,

i hear the strength of their wings that push through the air,

and it becomes a song of hope that weaves through a heart struggling with grief.


He chose me.

and if He has chosen me, He is with me.

and the sorrow becomes an easier thing to bear...

look up...

the songs that fill the air keep calling for us to look up.

to search for Him,

to open our eyes to the light of that star that burned so brightly 2000 years ago.


and my middle one, the one who knows no middle ground,

the one who is rarely quiet,

yells out from the seat behind me,

mama!  was Jesus called Jesus Christ when He was a baby?

and i pause, because i'm pretty sure of the answer, but i don't want to give the wrong one...

when i look out my window,

and i lift up my eyes...

and i see Him.


and you can argue that my eyes had landed on the path of 2 jets crossing.

and you would be right.


the deep blue of a winter sky was full of the echos of the airplanes that are bringing loved ones home.


but He uses the simple

and the weak,

to declare His amazing glory,

and how can i deny that He spread His message across this beautiful sky?


this season we celebrate is more than the empty cradle.

more than the empty blood-stained cross.

more than the empty tomb that stands there, defying death.


it's all about Him and the full life He offers.


so lift up your eyes, sweet reader of mine.

like the wise men of old, come near to His Light.

He is so very close


and He loves you so much.


and who knows what He'll write on that sky above you for your very own eyes to find...

when it is dark...

it plays beside me as i sit in the quiet of lights strung onto a tree.

the haunting melody of a crying out for Him,

and it leaves me undone.

o come, o come, Emmanuel
and ransom captive israel,

that mourns in lonely exile here

until the Son of God appear.

the tree that glows near me gives off the heady scent of Christmas and i close my eyes for a moment,

i try to search for the joy.

but my heart is heavy.

there is my story that i share with words that sometimes tremble on the screen in front of me.  i bring them up out of memories and moments and i leave them here.

but there are your stories too.

ones of loss,

ones of hope,

ones of triumph

and ones of exceptional pain.

and i hear woven in through your words, the call for Emmanuel...

come Lord Jesus, come...

and maybe in the dark of the night, the call for Him rings clearer...


your story is worth sharing,

worth fighting for.


but more importantly,

you are worth fighting for.

do you know that?


in the middle of words stretched tight with pain, 

a story that lays bare and open,

lays open before Him.


and He has come.

because you are worth the fighting He did,

you are worth the dying He died.

you are worth the life He conquered death to give.


can i speak this to you tonight?


can i speak the words to you that i wish i could have spoken to the one who chose to leave 2 years ago?


every life that bends over and hemorrhages grief,

every life that stands tall in praise and triumph,

every life that feels caught in the middle... unexceptional and ordinary,

each one needs to know,

you. need. to. know,

you are worth everything that He gave up and suffered to give.

He has come.


He has come so that the chains that leave you shackled can be shattered.


and you are right...

right now?  it's probably too much to believe it.

too much to see it...

our eyes can be blinded by a myriad of circumstances...

but it doesn't change Who He is and What He has to offer you.

and bit by bit, it will come if you press forward.

if you choose to believe in the dark,

in the light,

in the grey,

the truth that He loves you.


yes.  you.

He loves you.

and He came in the dark for you.


He died in the dark for you.

and He offers life out of the dark of death He conquered for you.

and as you believe, as you cling to what He promises,

you will find that in time, in the stillness of where you find yourself,

you will find the Strength to,

rejoice!  rejoice! 

Emmanuel shall come to thee

o israel...

don't give up...

He gave you a beautiful story to share...

when it's all wrapped up in cinnamon...

i couldn't find my mittens as i rushed out the door this evening.

the happy grey ones that keep these fingers toasty.


and while my fingers can barely bend to type out these words,

i wouldn't have traded that conversation in chilled night air for anything.



they crowded around me this morning, those three little ones with the big, big eyes...

as soon as i opened that large jar of cinnamon they were there, tangled up around my legs.

tongues start licking lips and eyes begin to twinkle and small hands clap with glee at the thought of warm cookies to fill small tummies and  pretty soon three little bottoms are plunked right on that mat laid down in front of the oven door.


His gifts are like that,

once you begin to catch a glimpse.


in the beginning moments, when life feels like it is being whipped within an inch of itself, none of it makes sense.

and sometimes, there are parts that never will this side of what we will someday know...

but He has Hands that can take every moment, every pain and joy and make something fantastic.


i think that's why i love the smell of cinnamon.

why i love watching those three press their young faces up against that glass window.

why i love standing and visiting in a backyard while the little ones run.

why i love standing out in the freezing cold and catching up with a friend who i've missed.


why i love to tap out these words with fingers just beginning to warm up...

because 23 months and 3 weeks ago my world completely shattered.

because 11 months and 3 1/2 weeks ago my life was completely uprooted.

and when i couldn't see outside of what i thought had been secure,, 


He was so faithful.


when my life became so unrecognizable that it hurt to even look at,

He remained constant.

He remained sure.


and when He said, I know in the quiet of changes emerging,

He was also asking me to trust.

they finish baking up, those snickerdoodles that make me laugh.

the smell of cinnamon wraps itself around this home.


and we give them away,

because that is what Hope, what Love, does.

and when we have given it all,

He fills us up again...

the month of here {day13}...and the boy who stole my blanket

he has a slight obsession,

that sweet little boy of mine.

his eyes light up and get all huge and he lifts his kissable pudgy hand to point at every. car. that. drives. by.

he yells it constantly from the back seat,

car, mama!!  car!!  car-car!! mama!! look!! red car!!  cruck-car!  mama, mama!! look, look!!


each one surprises him with it's uniqueness.

he seems amazed that there always is another one following the one that just passed.


he brings a smile to this face.


he brings the crucks that are broken.

to me.

the mama who knows nothing about cars or trucks or how to fix toys that boys are enthralled with.

but i try, because he trusts me.

he hovers while i hold his broken toy in my hands, the one that he carries with an extra set of wheels just in case, i'm sure.

whispers sweet nonsensical murmurings as i hold his precious treasure and try and piece it back together.


he reminds me in ways he doesn't even realize of the One Who holds my broken in His beautiful Hands.

i think of the mama who no longer has her son, the one whose arms are achingly empty and whose mind is filled with the unanswerable questions of why.

and i know...

i think of my friends who had a sweet baby boy just hours later, new life gasping in this sin-heavy air.


and elias, he struggled and fought against me.  desperate to be held, but too tired to accept it.


wrapped in my-blanket-turned-his, he settled against my heartbeat and i rocked until he stopped fighting comfort.


and i remember his first moments...his first gasping struggles for air. and i think of the mama whose boy no longer breathes near her.

and i want to love him well here because i don't know what life has in store.

 i don't know.

but i do know the One Who knows it all...Who takes our broken dreams and makes them into lives of beauty if we let Him.

and i give thanks on this thirteenth day of this month that finds me here...and for my son who stole my blanket.

and he sings, while the sisters-two fight with each other in the background...a real moment here at our home, but a sweet one nonetheless.  and in case you can't make out what he is singing, it's Jesus Loves Me...

the month of here {day12}...and mr. bob

i sometimes wonder about the timing of things that lead up to chance meetings, or the way two lives intersect and connect.

do you?

i find myself fascinated by the befores of everyone involved, oblivious to the fact their hearts are about to grow bigger.

he didn't have to open up his heart to us.

when i think of the loss he had already experienced, it would seem reasonable that he wouldn't.

when i think of the children and grandchildren that already fill his life, 3 more small and loud ones could seem like 3 too many.

and the one who brought me daises, opens his home to us again and again and they run to him, those 3 who have lost so many.  they run to him and he opens his heart and his arms to small lives he doesn't even know have been broken.

elias, he walked around all morning, after i told them the news that we would get to see him this afternoon.  kept asking for mr. bob and his truck that is red.

and here, where we first found ourselves alone and unknown, the heart of a father and friend beckons us in.

and they play frisbee in his big ol' backyard, rake leaves and jump in piles and the smiles grow wide and they know they are loved.

here, where He keeps reminding me that we are not forgotten.  that He had set a plan in motion before it all fell apart and as the seasons change once again and the leaves flutter down around us, i hear Him deep in my soul,

[He] sets the lonely in families,

He leads forth the prisoners with singing...

psalm 68:6a

and i give thanks on this twelfth day of this month that finds me here...and for hearts that make room for each other.

the month of here {day 5}...gifted words

he whispered it next to me on this floor this evening,  words that found that crack and busted me hopelessly open.

if you had never let God in, let Him love you...you wouldn't be here with me.


i couldn't meet his gaze, because sometimes letting God in...letting Him touch places and wounds means pain.

and so i there are moments that i don't.

elias found a spot of sun resting on my floor, the one freshly washed and scrubbed and the jar of gifted honey, dark and rich, found a place there in the glow.

the fire inside caught me off guard, found me reaching to capture it's beauty.


and then words...sweet words placed in my hands yesterday morning.  how could she have known how deeply they would reach?

and i read it, in the glow of honeyed sun, my soul laid bare by another's pen...

the life i planned

has someone seen the life i planned?

it seems it's been misplaced

i've looked in every corner

it's lost without a trace

i've found one i don't recognize 

things missing that were dear

promises i'd hoped to keep

and dreams i'd dreamed aren't there.

faces i had planned to see

hands i planned to hold

now absent in the pictures

not the way i told.

has someone seen the life i planned?

did it get thrown away?

God took my hand from searching

then i heard Him say,

"child, your ears have never heard

your eyes have never seen

eternal plans I have for you

are more than you could dream.

"you long to walk by sight 

but I'm teaching eyes to see.

I know what I am doing,

'til then, you must believe."

He's done so much, i felt ashamed

to know He heard my moans

to think i'd trade in all He's done

for plans made on my own.

i wept over His faithfulness

and how He'd proved Himself

how He'd gone beyond my dreams

and said to Him myself,

"no, my ears have never heard

my eyes have never seen

eternal plans you have for me

are more than i could dream.

"yes, i long to walk by sight

but You're teaching eyes to see

You know what You are doing

'til then, i must believe."

i felt His great compassion

mercy unrestrained

He let me mourn my losses

and showed to me my gains.

i offered Him my future

and i released to Him my past

i traded in my dreams

for a plan He said would last.

i get no glimpse ahead

no certainties at all.

except the presence of the One 

Who will not let me fall.

are you also searching

for a life you planned yourself?

have you looked in every corner?

have you checked on every shelf?

child, your ears have never heard

your eyes have never seen

eternal plans He has for you

are more than you could dream.

perhaps you long to walk by faith

but He's teaching eyes to see

He knows what He is doing

child, step out and believe.

~ b. moore

and i give thanks on this fifth day of this month that finds me here...with words that ring with Truth.

the month of here...{day 1}

we sit and we count play money on the table in the morning.

dimes and pennies made of plastic roll through our fingers, and while worthless outside of our moments of learning, they are stamped and formed to represent the currency that tucks away in my pockets here.


i hold it in my hands, so similar yet different to the coins back home, and i feel a little bit like lyla when it comes time to pluck them out to count.

learning to look at life all over again.


october found me with my eyes looking north...to the home that used to be and the thanksgiving tables that were overflowing there.

and my heart ached and my table sat bare...unsure how to celebrate, how to incorporate my old traditions in my new space.

there are moments that i feel lost in a no mans land of sorts...that i don't belong there, but i don't belong here yet, either.

which is good, wildly good.  something that has a strange and old comfort to it, one that teaches me to laugh at myself as i fumble over words and phrases and coins that are almost the same.


i read her post last night, the thirty-first and the last for the month; the beautifully dear, unexpected friend of my heart.

i cried my way through it and savored each word.

and when i finished?  i felt as though i had been released...released from hanging on to dreams and hopes that i desperately tried to hold on to.

she brings me home with each word that she writes, yes.  always.  but i can be free to live fully here too.

does that sound crazy?  maybe a little.  and what that has to do with november first is beyond me...


this month is the month of thanksgiving here.


here where He alone placed me.

here where He has already been blessing us abundantly.

here where we are healing and learning to depend on Him in completely new and amazing ways.

it's not easy.

it's not perfect.

but it's here.  and it's home.




i have 30 days before me to be thankful for.

and i'm going to use them.

like those coins in my pocket that fill my hands with their differences, i will pick each day out and examine it until i recognize its worth.

day one, though?

it's pretty familiar.  worn down my rough edges and melted me into us.

i'm thankful for tony...that here finds me with him, swimming in coffee and lost in his love.


that home is always the here of where he is, because we promised it strong.

i can still hear the voice of his dad, the one who married us and loved us so much, speaking those words that are timeless and true;

do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you.

for where you go, i will go, and where you lodge, i will lodge.  

your people shall be my people , and your God, my God. where you die

i will die and there i will be buried. may the Lord do so to me and more

also if anything but death parts me from you.

ruth 1:16-18

i wore white and he wore black and it seemed so easy up on that platform, smiling through words i had heard a thousand times before...

and now?  now that what was proclaimed over us is a path i've followed with tears streaming down my face?

i'd do it all again.

i'm found here because it's in God's plan.  because He knows what He's doing and He's given relief in such pain by giving me this man..

and i give thanks on this first day of this month that finds me here...with him.

it's in the surrender...

i spy them outside the window over my sink.

those rose bushes that have struggled mightily all summer to bloom.

that one nearest my front door?  got hacked to pieces by inexperienced hands and stayed shriveled up and naked through most of the heat of the last few months.


the buds?  they appear and while some burst into bloom, the rest lay their closed-up heads down in defeat.


all the other bushes up and down this street?  their slender branches bow over under the weight of their petals.

mine?  they struggle.


elias?  he takes a step without looking and what these bushes lack in blossoms, the make up for in thorns and the blood seeps out from soft punctured skin.


the temperature has dropped and frost has covered the ground outside my door.

and milk joins my coffee all frothy and full.

i sit in the warmth of a sun covered table.

the questions lately? they have been hard and painful.

and what i lack for in answers, He makes up for in revealing and those places long buried and ignored rise up to the surface.

the little ones play and give chase, oblivious to the war going on in the kitchen...the one being written out in the pages of a worn and ragged journal.

the sun rises higher and the frost slowly thaws and i draw my feet up under me.


i don't know what to do...

how to handle what He so tenderly reveals.

i buried pain so long ago, pushed it under while it still gasped for air.

to be honest? it never stopped gasping...i've just chosen to look the other way.


the rose bushes stopped struggling, a few days before.

they stopped struggling when the temperature dropped.

my fingers ran red as i snipped off their blooms, brought them in and filled up jars of faith and love.

i sit in the warmth of a sun covered table and the air that surrounds me is heavy with the scent of them.


palest pink, almost translucent ~ as though what had been hacked apart and ruined had almost given up hope that it could bring about beauty.

the scent of them...the fire in them opened up and gathered on my table remind this weary heart that there is hope to be found

 in the surrender of believing...

Him.

when the decisions are too big...

the question began to loom over our heads a couple of months ago.

a question whose answer would change everything...

or change nothing at all.


one seemingly simple yes or no to determine what course our lives would follow.


oh, if only answering one way or another could really be that easy.


life-changing decisions weigh heavy.

they sink deep at the breakfast table,

they dog weary footsteps from one room to another,

but it was when i looked in the mirror and saw how heavily this decision was reflected back in my eyes that i knew i couldn't carry it alone.


so, i took it to Him,

my list that was frantic with worst-case scenarios,

dog-eared with constant ruminations over the overwhelming consequences that saying yes would bring.

as i laid it all out before Him, my worries poured out along with the tears, i whispered that i didn't know how to agree to what we believed He was asking.

there isn't enough...


not enough time,
energy,
emotions,
finances...

laid out on the pages in front of me, it all seemed pretty clear.

i could say no and leave it at that.

there just isn't enough and i got up and walked away.

but He didn't.  He never does.

and while He may have taken a day or two allowing my heart to rest from the wrestle...


hot coffee in one hand and bible in the other, i sat down at my kitchen table all washed yellow in the sun.

clear headed and caffeinated, i turned the tissue-thin pages to the paper marking my place.

and it drew me in, as the four thousand were fed.

fed full with more left over to fill again.




and my mind wandered slightly as i tried to figure where the five thousand fit into the timeline, when He caught my attention and wouldn't let me go...

all piled in a boat, the motley crew of men realized they had forgotten to pack enough food for them all.

as Jesus sat teaching them, they grew more concerned over the fact that there was only one loaf of bread between them to share.

their worries drowned out the very Voice of God...

and Jesus, aware of this, said to them, "why are you discussing the fact that you have no bread? do you not yet perceive or understand? are your hearts hardened? having eyes do you not see, and having ears do you not hear? and do you not remember? when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?" they said to Him, "twelve." "and the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?" and they said to him, "seven." and He said to them, "do you not yet understand?"  mark 8:17-21

do you not yet understand?


after having just witnessed the Hands of Jesus tear apart bread and multiply it for thousands, did they really think He wouldn't provide for them?


after having witnessed His Hands orchestrate my life in the midst of pain and upheaval, when i'm left dizzy from the questions and yet astounded by His blessings, can i truly sit before Him and doubt that He will provide for in the middle of living out what He has asked me, us, to do?

do i truly not yet understand that He cares for His own?

can i honestly look back over my life and say, there!  that point right there!  *that's* where He left me to fend for myself! ?

there isn't one instance of my life that i have been abandoned,

or rejected,

or neglected,

by the One Who calls me His own.

worry hardens a heart, even a heart that has been in the presence of Jesus.

worry hardens and erases a soul's memories.


to trust Him preserves the miraculous, softens a jaded heart,

flings open a heart caged by worry and echoes joy deep down.


He has my yes.

and who knows how many baskets this miracle will have left over...

He waited...

i woke up this morning with tears on my face and an ache that settled deep in my heart that has walked with me throughout the day.


he was in my dreams last night.

or rather, i was desperately trying to call him on the phone, but couldn't reach him.

so maybe, more than being in my dreams, it was the desire just to hear his voice.


we'll have been married for 10 years in a little over a month and the images of the father of the man i love are boxed up in wedding albums, kept safe from the dust of time.


and i think back to that day, the one that i dreamed about for most of my life, the one that he officiated and blessed with that twinkle in his eye...

it was that voice i was searching for,

that voice that i was desperate to hear,

and the tears i woke up to gave testament to a heart that is still grieving.


the little ones had already been up for a while, so i crawled out of bed and whispered good morning and opened that door next to mine to find elias, naked as a jay bird, running circles in his room.

there are times when He gives laughter as medicine and it comes in the form of the craziness of small children.

they sat down with full tummies and i sat with a heart empty and my bible laid out in front of me, journal pages filled with pleas to hear...something.

anything.

if the father-voice here was no more, then please let me hear the Heavenly One.


and He speaks through the Words on the page and i read of gideon, the least of his own father's home.

and though he is least, he is seen by the One Who Sees and He sits with gideon, speaks with him, waits for him.


to me, that is incredible.  Very God waits for the dust He created to come back when gideon asked.

why now?  why, when i have read these stories for years, do these words i read undo me completely?

why would He wait?

if not for love?


how quickly did gideon run?

how crazed were his thoughts?

how scared was he that the spot would be empty when he returned?


but God waited.




just like He said He would.


i think how, even today, i forgot to keep my word to my girls.

how after quiet time we were going to make brownies and sit down and eat the batter and let the smell of warm chocolate fill these rooms.

i forgot and they'll remind me tomorrow and i'll make a mental note to remember, but in reality...i still may forget.


and i think of the moments where i think He's forgotten, dropped the ball and walked away.

i think of the moments that He could have stopped or healed or completely changed the outcome...but the outcome remained the same and lives were shattered and broken.

and i wake up with tears on my face from a night of chasing ghosts and i feed small tummies and pour out words on paper because i'm scared He won't show up...He won't speak life into a heart hurting.


and He lets me spill it all out; the fear, the pleading, the confessions and requests, the big decisions needing to be made, until my hand feels weak and my pages crinkle from the weight of my pen and my heart nearly bursts from my desperation for Him...

and He answers.

He answers dust,

~ therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you,

and therefore He exalts Himself to show mercy to you. 

for the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for Him...

...He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. as soon as he hears it, He answer you.

and though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide Himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher.

and your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying "this is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. ~ isaiah 30: 18, 19a-21 esv

He speaks words that tell of adversity and affliction, but aren't bread and water meant to quell hunger and quench thirst?

but in the midst of it all, in the swirling mass of wind-tossed emotions, He hears.

He comes out of hiding...

He promises to direct.

He promises that He will be seen.



i still have his number written down, my mind has the sequence memorized.  there are still moments when i pick up the phone to call...

the tears come easy in those moments.

i didn't realize how unsettling it would be to no longer have the voice of a father to rely on to give direction, counsel, wisdom.

there are moments when we feel adrift, a little bit lost.


but then He reminds me of Who He is.

when He lets my words drain me dry so He can pour life back in,

i will hear a voice behind me...

and it is His Voice drawing me close.

1000 moments to build on...

it begins while the white buckets are still empty.

while the hot sun has already climbed on ahead and the possibilities seem endless.

you gotta find the ones that are the size of your eyeball!!

and the race is on...

wild and crazy in the middle of a july-ripened blueberry patch...

and i think of the beginning of this journey of hunting out moments...always looking for the one filled and full of obvious God-glory and the pure joy and exuberance when it is found.

i found it!! i see it!! thank You!  thank You...

and i think back to that cold november morning when this journey began in a different city, a different country and life trembled on an uncertain path and i began my list...

number one was for a tree, unadorned yet standing.

but really, i was trying to find gratefulness while i stood broken, adorned with loss and grief.

and the more i found the moments and the numbers began piling one on top of the other, the shroud of pain began to lift...

and the sun climbs higher in the white-blue sky...

we pick together; 10 children, 2 mamas and i as we bend down to help up, to encourage, to share a blueberry or two and a cup of cool water.

and the sweet mama to my right says it softly,

it smells like tea in between these rows.

and it takes me by surprise as i stop to inhale deep,  these bushes heavy laid with fruit ripe for the picking and i think of how each life, each season, each circumstance heaves with thousands of gifts ready to be plucked, to be held and savored.

and in the gathering, in the recognizing...as we physically reach out and fully take of what He has given, the fragrance of joy is released into the air of our homes, our families, our friendships...

joy truly is a fragrant offering to the Giver of Life.

the temperature climbs and i begin to see my little ones flag...

and i bend down low per the instructions of the one who works this patch and i think of peter jumping out of the tossing boat with all the passion in the world to reach Him standing on top of those wind-crazed waves.

only to sink below the water...

and how there came a time, a month or more, when my pen sat silent.  quiet.

i felt overwhelmed by a sea of blue ink.

i took my eyes off of Him and what He gives and gave in to fear.

fear became the ball and chain that took me under and i had to go lower still to get out from under its grasp so that i could reach His.

i had to bend lower to find the sweetest berries.

and i had to bend lower still so that all i wanted to see, was Him...


i am amazed at how one blueberry placed on top of another can fill and turn into 20 pounds.

how one simple thank You can fill up more than half of a moleskin.

how a soul that was so empty and parched and bitter could be so filled and rounded out and sweetened.


how thanking Him for the hard and the painful has drawn me closer to Him.


as i sorted and plucked out stems and leaves i came across a few berries unripened.

the green ones that taste sour and can upset tender tummies and i pulled them out and set them aside...

we have moments, you and i...moments that enter in that seem puny and ugly and too full of pain to be any good to us.

unripened moments that seem useless and we cry out why?

i looked at them, in contrast on my counter top, struck by the beauty of the colours brushed up against one another,

and i don't pretend to know the why of suicide, or daddies walking away, or families rejecting one another.  i'm not going to claim to have that answer, but what i have learned, what i am learning and what i want to keep on learning is that i don't have to know.  He allows both, because He said He'll work it all out and maybe only He knows how, but by bending low, by thanking Him for the good and the bad i have the chance to see beauty in the midst of deep pain.

i have the chance to see the Almighty paint a masterpiece with my life...


i've reached 1000 moments of joy.

seems fitting that my preacher spoke on this very subject this hot sunday morning.

and he said something that i wrote down and hold close, because today, my present seems rather overwhelming.

i can choose joy for the present by building on past joys and borrowing from future ones.

do i stop here, now that i've reached the goal?

never.

with each number i wrote down, i was laying a foundation...one that allows me to hope when circumstances seem bleak.

and i think of the blank pages left in a red moleskin on my counter.

they are expectant with waiting.

and i borrow joy with the hope that He'll continue to surprise me with moments that have been sweetened with the grace of His goodness...

990. waking up to the sound of falling rain.
991. cool, fall-like days.
992. the privilege of having daughters.

993. a son who throws everything

994. bending low and wiping it all up.

995. made up words and the laughter they bring.

996. coffee house tantrums and the friend who still stayed.

997. the friend who already knows lyla's love of animals and gave her the privilege to puppy-sit.

998. elias meowing.

999. how tender tony is, even when we have to walk through the hard moments.

1000.  for this. for 1000 moments to build on.  for 1000 more moments to hope for.  and that He gives it all...