the good not in me - on chapter 2...{the grace series}

the word good can actually be a not-so-good word after all...

i think i've known this for a while.


kind of like when you make that decision to cut out all sugar and that friend holds that dark chocolate brownie in her hands and says so sweetly, come on! one bite, just one! it's soooo good!!

yeah - good can be objective.

unless it's resting on the lips of God.


He saw all He had made and called it good,

He saw His Son and was so very pleased.


His Spirit - He's characterized by goodness...


He is good.


and then there is me.


and oh. i want  to be good.

i want you to see me as good.


but i know, deep down, that for years i lived up to the expectations that are placed on the good girl who loves Jesus.

i wasn't defined by Him, i was defined by what was expected.

and i tried hard.

and when i kept failing, i gave up caring.

and then i was a bad girl living in good girl clothes.


it was a touch crazy and chaotic and there are still moments that i wonder how in the world i ever made it back to Jesus.


but ever since then, ever since that moment on that winding road under those bright stars, feeling like my shame was going to swallow me whole and begging Him for just. one. more. chance...

i have felt like i'm running up hill - always one step behind everyone else who seems to have it all together.

i have felt a mess.

when we believe that God expects us to try hard to become

who Jesus wants us to be, we will live in that blurry, frustrating

land of Should Be rather than trust in The One Who Is. we will 

do whatever we believe it takes to please God rather

than receive the acceptance that has already been given. we

will perform to live up to what we believe His expectation is of us 

rather than expectantly wait on Him.

grace for the good girl (pg 32)

what happened to believing in the truth that all of the work was done by The Son on the cross?

why are we, am i, constantly trying so hard to earn His approval?

why am i expecting to fail, to let Him down and start back at square one because isn't that where all the losers go?

my word for this year has been expectancy.  my baby girl, the one who filled me large with the expecting of her turns 4 months today.  the stretching and filling and those final hard months are still so fresh on my mind...expectancy can be a long, slow, hard thing to hold.

because really, you live in a state of not knowing what to expect.

and so, i try and manage what seems manageable. if i don't know what to expect from my life, from Jesus, or even from tomorrow, i'll focus on what i think a strong, good christian woman should look like.

our desire to be the good girl, the good Christian, the good

wife, and the good mom becomes our number one priority,

and Jesus isn't even in the room...

grace for the good girl (pg 32)

i need to stop here - not because the baby is crying, though, she will be soon because of those first two teeth that are making sleep hard to come by - but because my heart needs to rest here.

i need to pause and look around me,

is He even here?

and yes, He is here - He is with me and He won't ever leave, but have i been so focused on everything else that i forget that He. Is. ?

God looks at your heart.  He sees not only your outward "churchy" identity; He sees

who you really are, why you do what you do, and what you really mean when you

proclaim your allegiance to Him. this face should alarm us all.

and it would, if not for the gospel.

think of it; you no longer have to live for mere human approval.

you are freed from trying to approve of yourself. God approves of

you because you have a new heart, a new name, a new love, a new desire.

believers, having acknolwedged their sinfulness and accepted the

gift of divine approval, are in a position to reveal themselves as they

really are. this ought to make believers the most transparent and 

childlike people in the world. *

He approves of you because you are covered with the righteousness

of the beloved Son with whom He is well pleased. you please Him.

His commendation, welcome, acceptance - yes, even His praise - are yours!

is that enough? pray that it will be as true for you today as it 

already is for Him.

comforts from Romans (pg. 41-42)

He is. 

and i have not been...

but because of Him and the work that He did - His grace covers me and He is the good that is now in me.

staggering, beautiful truth.

even when i fail,

even when i mess up...again,

He is the good that is now in me.

for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

when Christ, Who is your life appears, then you also will 

appear with Him in glory.

colossians 3:3-4

thank you, Jesus.

*quote within the quote was written by r.h. mounce 

when your soul splits... {the grace series}

it started long before that rose covered journal closed tight with that brass coloured lock.

before i began to fill up those lined pages with teenage angst begging to know who i was.


looking back, twenty years later, i know now what i was so desperately questioning;

i wasn't longing to know who i was,

i was wanting to know if i could ever be good.


because when you are four years old and you pray a prayer and ask Jesus into your heart, and then the very next year your innocence is taken by a teenage boy in the nursery of a church...

you do everything you can to fix what has been shattered inside.


whispers in the dark of don't tell become dark lies in your soul and you will do anything to keep up appearances for appearances sake.


no one tells you when you are five how to navigate moments like that.



and so the good girl,

this good girl

is born.


you have maybe had your moment too - that moment when your soul split in two.

that space in time when your smile was plastered to your face while those secrets began to swirl in the dark and everything seemed off kilter because,

well...

it was.


shadow and light become muddled and foggy and you try and work harder so that you can finally make the two marry and maybe, just maybe, make God happy.

because that is what good girls do.

they make everyone happy.


did your shoulders just droop a bit under the weight of those words?


and grace?

it's a five letter word that everyone seems to pass around so freely - like those sunday morning handshakes or the promises of "i'll pray" that we never seem to keep.


and grace becomes a part of our lingo that we never know the origin of -

 we just know that it's a word that good christians say and so we do.

often.

all the while our hearts harden and our eyes glaze over and we keep putting one tired foot in front of the other, trying somehow to earn some elusive approval and finally, finally be good

deep down good.


or maybe that's just me...

i hide behind my smile and my laid-back personality.

i hide behind fine  and good. i hid behind strong and responsible. 

i hide behind busy and comfortable and working hard toward 

your expectations. and if i do not meet your expectations,

i hide behind indifferent. and though the purpose of my mask is

to fool you, don't be fooled.

the energy it takes to live for you is killing me...i want you to regard me.

please, by all means, regard me. i beg you to see me, to notice my goodness,

to ignore my failure, to be inspired by my beauty, to be captivated

by my essence. i want my loveliness to overwhelm you such

that you cannot catch your breath.

grace for the good girl (pg. 18)

i think it starts here at this place that is raw and tender underneath everything.

because when you know that God loves you, but you don't really believe He means you...

you'll do everything you can to earn that love from Him and her and him and them. 


and grace?

i just want to be liked.

grace?

i just want them to be happy with me.

grace?

oh goodness, i just want to be finally seen and noticed and applauded.


it has everything to do with keeping myself safe and you happy and nothing to do with Jesus because He is wild and unpredictable and Someone i can never control.

and so i hide,

i smile.

and i adjust my good face

once again.


until it finally isn't enough anymore.

the hollowness and emptiness of the pseudo-good life begins to suffocate and that is what this past year has been for me.


and i wonder if as zeruiah's life began to grow deep inside if that isn't when He began to stir something up in my soul and as she began to outgrow my skin, i began to outgrow my fear and it wasn't enough anymore, to live in the quiet and the good...

i wanted Jesus.

fear drives.

but Love leads.

"now to Him Who is able to do far more abundantly than all that 

we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be 

glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations,

forever and ever. amen" (ephesians 3:20-21 ESV)

that invisible good girl pushes me around. fear drives, 

pushing and shoving. Love leads, working deeply and gently within.

as i risk exposure to receive this Love, i catch a glimpse

of His goodness, i am inspired by His beauty, i am 

captivated by His essence. His loveliness overwhelms me such

that i cannot catch my breath. and before i realize it,

there has been a holy shift. my insatiable need to prove my 

own goodness to God and the world fades into the background, and

instead i receive truth and offer worship to the only One

deserving of it. 

grace for the good girl (pg. 19)

i needed Grace...



(join me again on friday?)

the orange rhino, #romansproject, zeruiah, and a video of the last 2...

it's been in the last month or two - since the newness of a newborn wears off and bone-weary fatigue sets in that i find my the decibels of my voice raising higher and more often then i would like them to.

i never wanted to be that mama.

you know the one.

the one who yells because she's frustrated,

yells because she's tired,

yells because what else is there to do because everyone is yelling anyways and i may as well join in.

i never wanted to be her.

and it's after a day when i yelled too often and i felt like a failure that i met a dear friend in the corner of a coffee shop and we share our struggles and she shares this plan that she found and we sit and we laugh over the crazy solutions but something clicks...

i can make a choice.

so i do.

i make that choice not to yell.

for one year.

easy, right?

yes...you can laugh.

so, i put on my orange shirts, drink out of my orange water bottle, i chuckle over the idea of taking that moment, the one where your voice starts raising and yelling instead into the toilet and flushing it all away. (i haven't tried it yet, but when i do, i'll let you know).

and resolve begins to waver and yesterday afternoon, i send my sweet friend a text. i have to start over. one too many things had been knocked over, spilled across and i opened my mouth and this exasperated mommy blew.

i sit on the floor this morning, across from my husband and i recite verses. ones in romans i'm trying to memorize. i know my failures from the day before, i know i could fail loudly again today; when the obvious dawns on me and it all makes sense - because He is here and He loves to give when we ask for His wisdom.

if i empty my mouth of all yelling, i need to fill up that empty space with Him.

instead of just yelling into the cavernous and flushing it all away, can i take those moments when i would rather vent my frustration and instead speak His Words over the moment?  instead of filling up these walls around us with mommy-angst, can i fill this space up with Him?

can i invite Him in to each moment? not just the quiet and peace-full moments that are rare and hard to hang on to.  but the loud and chaotic and the ones that quickly unravel if i don't stay on top of it all?

so, while the older three play in the background and laugh and play and whine just a little, i take the youngest and she and i? we sit on that chair and i speak His Word, penned by Paul, over her and i pray that His Grace takes over and that what fills up that memory space in my mind, takes hold of my heart and transforms this mama so that when they are grown and old and think back on us now, they really remember Him...

(i'm linking up with the #romansproject here )

the story of a chair...

it's the story of a chair.

kind of.

it's cradled me in the cool mountain air,

held me in my excitement of that sparkly ring he placed on my finger,

became a bed when i was 5 months pregnant and so very sick.

supported me in those first few days of fresh grief.

rocked me in those dark nights while we waited to see where He was sending us, transplanting us in soil unfamiliar and strange...

his dad new i loved that chair,

knew that when i came, that's where i would plop myself and so in the last days before he wasn't anymore, i received a note in my inbox from a sister asking where i would like the chair to go that christmas. he wouldn't move it until i gave my final okay.

i haven't thought about that memory since i sat down to write...

sometimes our minds guard the most treasured memories close.

it was still in storage when i made the decision those 14 months ago - that decision to print out those cards and glue them down in that book and begin to memorize those words penned from some dark prison cell.

and when it did see daylight and was placed in our home, my discipline to memorize on schedule began to fade away on waves of nausea.  

there is another father here, one who has opened his heart to us who are fatherless and at the beginning he listened every week, and then waited patiently while i would get my feet back under me and my mind would catch up to where i should be.  my book is covered with his signature...

then little miss made her grand entrance and i missed the dead line of having the whole book memorized by the new year, but i determined, despite sleeplessness and hormones and the loss of all those brain cells, to finish.

they tell you, the experts, to put your babies on schedules and let them learn to sleep on their own, but i would pick up those pages during the afternoon quiet time that i have fingered over and over for the last passing year and then i would fill my arms with the newness of her and cradle us both in the chair his father knew i loved.

and i would rock to the rhythm of ancient words scribbled down and i would whisper them over her head.  new life in my arms and His Life on my lips and i would pass those hours being changed little by little.

it was when those last words were said, the call to remember his chains and the final benediction...when what rested on her soft downy head was his blessing of grace, it was then that the tears came.

entwined in small and quiet ways are the gift of a father, the patience of a father and the Words of my Heavenly Father in that corner that old chair rests, and beth moore is right, "Never — NOT ONCE — have I ever known anyone to get to the end of a Scripture memory commitment and say that it didn’t make any real difference. Not a single time.”

so i start again with paul at pen, but on letters to the romans and we rock, her and i, to the rhythm of His mercy...

to know...{letters to my four}

it all fell apart that canadian winter - you knew it deep down too.  fractured something in us all like that -26 air did to those snapping metal posts buried quiet in the frozen snow.

it's been a long, slow thaw.


there are four of you now, but then, it was just the older three and there are times and moments i wish your minds were just as newborn-free as hers.

and yet, i think remembering the hard has maybe been the most freeing gift of all.


we dedicated zeruiah at the front of our church, the pastor held her in his arms and i became overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

he had asked us three simple questions and i almost fell apart.  she only weighed a mere eight pounds and yet the weight of her very life...

my arms aren't strong enough for that.

nothing about me is strong enough for that.

she was only eighteen days old and suddenly the length of her life stretched out before me and how can the broken lead?

olivia, you sat down next to me in the warmth of a sunlit window, brought our your bible and asked me to read.  you have your favorite stories - the ones we keep coming back to.  there's adam and eve and that snake you love to hate. noah and the animals and that rain that fell for days on days and seemed as though it would never end.  you love to hear how Jesus walked on water and how peter tried. the 5000 that were filled on the small amount of bread and fish and then you asked to hear another...

i turned to 1 kings - to one of your daddy's favorite stories. the one of elijah and the fire God sent from heaven. the one where he stood up against the false and faith watched flames lick up the last drop of water. you sat confused over the fact that there were some who didn't believe in God.


i thought back to what broke in the ice and the snow two years ago now.

there's still shards of that life still lying around us - sharp edges that still leave wounds. but what has busted isn't all bad - because what i had clung to for so many years was just as broken as me.  my faith was in a god who i tried to shape in my own image...

and Jesus allowed it to break open, and in the long years since canada, He's taken this heart and opened it back up.

how can the broken lead?

i look at the four of you and become so scared of failure, scared of the world around us and the skeptics and false teachings and wonder how you will ever see Him in the middle of it all...

i can easily forget that He is the One Who does all the searching, He is the One Who draws you close.


but as your mama, He chose me to talk to you about Him, to teach you and to live out an example...

so we'll start here - at the beginning...

because that is Who He is.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

(John 1:1-5 ESV)


you need to know that before anything, God was. God spoke and it all came to be. you can trust this. you can trust that His life was given so that you can live.

so let's take it one step at a time in the coming days and months ahead.

but before we can move forward, we need to camp here and know, to your very marrow, that He. Is.

love,
mama

fifteen days...

do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation,

by prayer and petition,

with thanksgiving,

make your requests known to God.

philippians 4:6

this big old world has spun through fifteen days and i hold her close with one hand.

monday found me in tears at 4 in the morning as the last piece that connected us fell off sometime during the dark of the night...

and this small one, this baby girl who squeaks throughout the moments i should be sleeping,

she holds me captivated.


i was so scared of all the changes she would bring, what it meant for each one of us, the late nights.  i know the darkness of depression that seemed to settle after each little one entered our family and the more i tried to prepare myself, the more afraid i became...


a balm can be described as a soothing, healing or comforting agent. and this is what she has been.  i whisper her name over her soft, downy head and i call her for what she is, our balm from God.


there have been moments that have dipped low, tears come easily, messes can overwhelm, 2 am can echo loud, but i am learning, finally, after the fourth newborn has been placed in my arms that moving slow isn't the worst that can happen.

she fusses with a tummy sore and i can feel my heart rate speed up, the older three press in close as she fights against my arms and i want to flail my hands in any direction that can lead us all to peace, that can make it all right again, but the agitation in all of us becomes worse...


until i breathe deep and close my eyes so that my heart can find Jesus and when i slow, they settle and the pressing in no longer pushes me away; instead, it finds me grounded.


she finds my heartbeat to fall asleep - presses her dark head against my chest.  her skin is no longer wrapped up within my own, our bodies no longer connected with that pulsating cord...but she settles when i whisper her name.  she recognizes me.

and in the moments i slow, i try and whisper thanksgivings - a lifeline that keeps me attached to Jesus...

what if in stead of discounting the current moment, the uncontrollable, the simply given - what if i counted it - and on the God who controls it all?

what if all our running around is only our trying to run away from God - the great I AM, present in the present moment?

what if i woke to now and refused to hurry because i didn't want to refuse God?

what if i didn't discount this moment but counted it for what it is - God here?

it is only the present moment alone that holds the possibility  of coming into the presence of God. look around, breathe deep, enter into this one moment.

now could be an altar. this time could be a tabernacle.

in God, there is no time, only eternity - or more simply, only now. His name is I AM. here - wherever my feet are - is where i can love Him.

ann voskamp

3 gifts heard

1788. olivia's bless you me when she sneezes

1789. lyla's need for reassurance

1790. elias' belly laugh

a gift outside, inside, on a plate

1791. my newborn baby girl - straight from the womb

1792. the prayer my midwife said

1793. a long awaited lunch!

3 graces you overheard

1794. my older three meeting my younger one

1795. the way he tells me he loves me

1796. listening to her breathe in the dark stillness of night

a gift old, new, blue

1797. to be a mama again

1798. zeruiah

1799. a new journal and nest placed in my hands

something you're reading, making, seeing

1800. your God is too safe

1801. our family of six!  SIX!

1802. his mama and sister and our nephews - a full, full home.

one thing in your bag, your fridge, your heart

1803. the Bible he gave me

1804. the meal graciously given

1805. the peace only He can give

3 graces from people you love

1806. miles traveled

1807. a sister, a niece, a nephew

1808. knowing and loving for 17 years

dusky light, surprising reflection, lovely shadow

1809. my youngest nestled close in the early morning

1810. my body, no longer filled

1811. days slowly getting longer

a gift held, passed by, sat with

1812. her head, just over my heart

1813. a heap of cousins playing

1814. elias, curled up on my lap

a gift sour, sweet, just right

1815. tiny upset tummies

1816. the way he unconditionally love sme

1817. a house full and bursting

3 yellow gifts of fresh mercy

1818. unexpected flashes of sun

1819. the many diapers of a newborn

1820. patch of sun on elias' face

something above, below, beside 

1821. that blue, blue sky above us

1822. zeruiah's silky hair beneath my chin

1823. a visit with tabitha

3 things about yourself you are grateful for

1824. my body that cradles and nourishes

1825. that i was made just for tony

1826. my arms that can hold all four of my babies close

before...

before the husband and the vows and our two lives becoming one and all of the trails that our one life has taken us on,

before i knew what it meant to become a mama and all that breaking and the changing and the transforming that this name change has brought,

there was her.


born in the full bloom of august i remember taking her in my unpracticed arms and trying to hold her so that she would stop crying

and maybe like me

if even a little.


she is the one who changed me from who i was and made me something more.


she is now the only one who i willingly let call me by the name i detest, because when it comes from her, aunty kimmy doesn't sound so bad.


her mama, she's known me since i was 16 - she's known me in my crazy days and in my rebellious days and in my broken days and in the joy-filled ones too. sometimes sisterhood doesn't need blood to bond.  sometimes all it needs is two hearts that fit - because He formed them to.

she comes with my niece and nephew after his mama and sister and our two nephews leave.  a mama and sister who sacrificed many days because i thought zeruiah's day was near and they wait and they clean and they encourage and they stay even though my older three are so sick. they come during the hard days of grief and we get through them together...

and i find myself surrounded by women whose dna doesn't match mine, but whose hearts love beyond scientific things like that.


but now, they have all left.


there is a bit more room in these walls, but the extra space is loud and empty...

and if i'm honest, i may have cried in the shower this morning.


there is something so needed in the life of a mama -

and there are so many voices willing to share -

willing to pull in so many different directions.


where are those voices that pull a mama's heart straight to the Heart of God?


before zeruiah's coming and before my home became a bit more full, before the laundry was caught up and my kitchen was scrubbed, i received a book in my inbox and i loaded it onto my kindle.

i settled down to read in the quiet spaces and i found two voices that ushered me straight into the throne room of God.


circumstances can shift and change and lead you away from everyone you know. you can find yourself making a space not only for yourself, but for your family, for your little ones and it can all become overwhelming and maybe a little bit tiring.


but like the ones that come and love and then need to leave, or like the ones who He gives as friends in the unknown places - the ones who become as loved as family, or even those found in the pages of a book, the ones who have walked this road and who have gasped for air in the hard mama-moments and survived and turn around to point you back to the Source of all Strength, they trace the face of Jesus for you when you can barely lift your hands, He provides His Hope everywhere, can i just be willing to look?



she sits on my couch, the one who 11 years ago filled my arms and now the one, the last one, who filled my belly lies curled up on her lap.

time flies and i can't even imagine where all those years have gone.

and the question resonates loud, the one that seems to be whispered all around me, where are the older women? where are the older women to gently guide the young mamas to the feet of Jesus? 

she is going to need one, someday.

walking this road, this sometimes desperate road is in a sense more than walking it for myself...

it means walking it for my daughters, for my nieces, for the younger women He may bring along the way.

because it's not about turning out well-mannered, well-behaved, well-adjusted children. that could happen, and it could not...

it's about Him - about taking the joy-filled and the hard-fought and the completely shattered moments and letting Him use it all for His glory.


so, let's not do this alone, let's fight in the trenches together - let's speak words to each other that are full of grace and life and point us always and pull us in all ways straight in to the very heart of Jesus.