to the woman-who-thinks-she's-a-failure...

i get it.

i really do.


and that one moment of failure?

it can have you locked still with your eyes on what's burning down behind you.


i sometimes wonder if that's why she was told to not look back -

that maybe it was because she'd never be able to look forward again.


and eyes that could see vibrant colours, a mouth that could laugh joyful, ears that heard the sweet voices of her children...

all crumbled to a salty dust.


and what all lay before her was no more,

what was behind her was drifting away in ash,

and the woman only known as lot's wife?

she stood frozen in the space between.



failure has this way of bringing out the worst in us - we either turn a blind eye and inwardly rot, or we remain glued to what was and become the hardened living and either way,

either way,

we crumble.


i get it.


moving forward, placing that one dragging foot in front of the other seems wrong.

that moving forward doesn't seem right, because you chose the foolish way and living out your faith seems a mockery because a christian should be better than you have been...


i've heard it,

i've cupped that poison in my own frozen hands and felt my hope and my failures drain me all away.



and there is a death that happens on the road from sodom to zoar, a death that happens in that broken place between what was and where you are heading to.


and that could be the end.

it could be.


except for Jesus.


please wait, because yes, it does seem too simple,

and yes,  you did mess up

and yes, you could have made a different choice...

but just stop for a minute,

you're already standing there frozen anyways...


Jesus.

let Him near?

let Him breathe over you, stirring your heart and that hope you let go of and fill your lungs up again.


breathe deeply,

because you are not defined by what you have done - you are defined by Whose you are and you,

woman-who-thinks-she's failed,

you are His.


and when you are His, with failures and brokenness and sin splattered all over you,

He only sees Jesus.

He sees the Holy One Who boldly took your place.


so take that step - that frozen, halting step.

move your foot forward and then move the other one too,

let the wind blow the dust of death off of you, because you are not some shell of a woman lifeless and without use...


you are His and He will use even the salt that caked your face dry to cause a thirst in some other parched heart

and you will find that what left you frozen will lead you to His water that never runs low.


you are not a failure.

you don't have to be stuck between what has been and the elusive what-could-be...


His heart is there, thrumming deep inside you -

it's time to start moving forward again.

come and hear, all you who fear God,

and i will tell what He has done for my soul.

psalm 66:16

3 gifts found in Christ
2118. sitting in the hot sun with a sister-in-Jesus, sharing our hearts over His Word
2119. relationships deepened
2120. when we have been with Him, others can see (acts 4:13)

3 gifts close
2121. his kisses in the warm sun
2122. teaching the girls to read all pressed in close
2123. the younger 3 tackling me in bed

3 gifts reflecting
2124. sleepy mornings in front of the fridge
2125. moonlight on grass
2126. remembering lyla small

3 gifts fragile
2127. gramma's ring
2128. lyla's heart
2129. the smallness of zeruiah

a gift cloth, steel, wood
2130. those dish cloths
2131. his commitment to us
2132. cherry trees all in a line

3 gifts moving
2133. that crazy strong wind
2134. her hand on my cheek
2135. days that speed by

3 gifts "ugly beautiful"
2136. a back that seizes - move slow
2137. a "from scratch yard" - endless possibilities
2138. sibling conflict - learning to work out the hard things

3 gifts orange
2139. deeauna
2140. robin
2141. those shoes on my feet. :)

3 gifts in dirt
2142. candy tuft. lots. of. candy. tuft.
2143. that one purple tulip
2144. new grass coming up

a gift given, made, sacrificed
2145. tony's promise
2146. our babies
2147. saying not to what i really wanted

3 gifts tasted
2148. the second cup of coffee - with a friend
2149. blueberry yogurt
2150. home-canned peaches

3 gifts flat
2151. fedex parcels arriving right on time
2152. made up songs by sisters in the back seat
2153. the folded laundry pile

3 gifts found in difficult people
2154. a strengthening in my spirit
2155. tony and i drawing closer
2156. to realize it's not a competition

3 gifts before 9am
2157. sunrise sightings
2158. early morning coffee
2159. the start of a journey

a gift in a sign, a smile, a snack
2160. that hidden inn on the mountain
2161. that they had intense children too
2162. strawberry icecream-on-a-stick

3 gifts found in Christ
2163. that i am found in Him
2164. i may know Him and the power of His resurrection
2165. my righteousness comes from faith in Jesus Christ

3 gifts about your home
2166. the light
2167. the improved kitchen
2168. that we are all together under this roof

3 gifts inside a closet
2169. a mess of hand-me-downs
2170. organized jackets
2171. all those canned peaches

3 gifts found in the dark
2172. soul-changing prayer
2173. cricket song
2174. cool breezes

a gift outside, inside, upside down
2175. a mowed lawn
2176. my kitchen ceiling
2177. that we are here

3 gifts about your parents
2178. married 40 years
2179. all those years of piano lessons despite my complaining
2180. raised me to love a wide-open alberta sky

3 gifts held in hand today
2181. 7 week old barney
2182. all of their hands at some point
2183. that rose - thorns and all

3 gifts found in your mother
2184. passed on her love of reading
2185. taught me how to iron a man's shirt the right way
2186. that her birthday was yesterday...

in the blooming - the end of chapter 2...{the grace series}

the irises bloomed while we were gone -

tall and violet and graceful.


the girls caterpillars bloomed too - they busted out of their cocoons in the middle of the night, while it was quiet and dark and no one to witness it and their orange painted wings stretched strong in the early morning light.

they were going to release them - after the charlotte's web fair was done and after they had popcorn and snow cones and their skin turned rosy-red in the hot may sun.

they would open up that clear plastic lid and just let them flutter away...


there's one painted lady who seems to be more robust then the rest. the girls have named this one hoppy. she beats her wings and flies against the netting, bouncing off of it and landing on her back.

but she flutters and beats those wings until she is literally hopping, until she gets enough air under her so that she can flip over and once again fly.

it makes them all laugh,

but hoppy?  she makes me want to cheer.


she doesn't do it gracefully, this learning to fly and strengthening her wings. she's clumsy and seems to always been running into another butterfly or two on her way,

but she doesn't give up, and maybe that's why i watch her.


we've been away, been loved on and taken care of and hidden away in a cabin in the mountains and green.

i've held lyla's hand as she whispers it quietly,

mama, it's so quiet here - my ears really like it.


we've been away and i've watched as my older three wrestle with the slowing down, with getting used to bugs and being outside for 14 hours a day and sleeping in the unfamiliar and new.


and as i walked through that garden gate everyday for almost a week, as i stood underneath stars so bright in the blackest sky,

as i woke up to a mountain rain pounding on the roof above me,

i've realized i need to rethink grace.


it's kind of hoppy-ish, if you will.


but here's the thing, sometimes we need to keep bouncing off of what has hemmed us in before we can become strong enough to fly.

grace is something to wrestle with - simple in concept, yes, but hard to grasp in the actual living out.

tony and i, we've talked a lot in this past week - of Jesus and christianity and living radically and completely surrendered lives to Him.

we've talked of what that means to live contrary to the pull of the culture around us - to walk instead under the pull of Christ's Lordship over our lives.


and to be honest, there is that small voice that whispers...

we are going to be odd.

and that's when i find it, near the end of chapter 2 that i read these words,

character refers to who you are. reputation refers to who people think

you are. i generally care more about who people think i am than who i really am.

but Jesus was not a person trying to keep a good reputation in tact. during His life

on earth, he never tried to explain Himself for the sake of His reputation.

He breaks all social etiquette in relation to people. He

acknowledges no barriers or human divisions. there is no

category of sinners He isolates Himself from.

simply stated, Jesus is a miserable failure at

meeting religious people's expectations of Him...

...though He was without sin, there were still those who questioned His

reputation. knowing there were people who disagreed, even hated Him, didn't 

cause Him to change one thing He did. He wasn't working to maintain a good

reputation. he was walking in dependence on His Father. Jesus didn't value what people

thought; He valued people, period.

grace for the good girl (pg. 47-48)

our pastor, he spoke on the assurance of salvation this morning - how it's all curled up in 1 john; we can know that we are His through the way we love each other...

and i have failed.

deeply and horribly and in soul-shattering ways.


but i heard it as i stood folding laundry while the washing machine hummed, as elyse fitzpatrick spoke about justification and everything that it means;

it's not only as if i had never sinned...

but being justified is living as if i had always obeyed.


Christ's grace is shocking and soothing and it covers over all the places that i fail...


He valued people, not what they thought about Him or His ministry or the decisions He made. and Jesus calls me and you to live like that too.

reputation can be a carefully crafted place that keeps you safe, that makes you look good - but it keeps you unknown.

we can't love well when we are hiding, when we don't live authentically, with vulnerability - really, when we are placing the idol of self in front of those around us.

it's only when we place Jesus first, when we choose Him over a mask that keeps us safe, it's then that we find grace,

that we learn to love,

and that being good dulls in comparison of being like Christ...

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. 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, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. philippians 3:7-11

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 

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 )

she was once someone's little girl...

i heard the yelling before i fully comprehended the words.

i think i was more focused on all those eyes focused on the same spot across the street.


there is a row of brick houses, walls and foundations all joined together, and there are some who sit out on their front stops each day, no matter the weather.

it was there the yelling was coming from.


i turned and listened as the red faced woman faced us and screamed,

i am the lord thy god!!!!

over and over these words poured from her lips, 

over and over she screamed to the group of kids across the street.

it didn't take long for her to collapse.

this woman all weighted down with what warred inside of her,

she fell to her knees and began barking like a dog...

and one girl,

one young girl with sad eyes stood transfixed.

so i stood in front of her,

i said her name and she looked up at me with this look i can't forget and she whispered,

do you think she's got the devil in her?

and i told her i didn't know. i didn't know why she was acting the way she was - that there could be a hundred different reasons for a mind to break from reality.

but it was my first thought.

that morning i had read in the book of luke in chapter nine of a father who begged Jesus to heal his son. this boy who was at the mercy of the demonic and the ESV, it puts it this way,

'...and behold, a spirit seizes him, and he suddenly cries out. it convulses him so that he

foams at the mouth, and shatters him, and will hardly leave him...' (vs. 39)

it was those three words that caught my attention in the early hours and it was those three words that came back to me as i looked at this wild woman rolling around in the grass and the mud...

she was shattered.

broken.

evil wreaks havoc on humanity and Jesus is the only One Who can heal.

i thought of her as i drove home,

thought of her late into the evening not even knowing her name,

but instead of being scared, 

instead of thinking of her as crazy,

all i could picture as i thought of her shattered-ness laid bare before everyone around...

she's someones daughter.

somewhere, at sometime, she was someone's little girl who spun in sunshine and laughed at the ridiculous and had hopes and dreams that along the way became shattered and broken and any hope she had was replaced with a mind howling through the dark.

the broken are all around us - and as Easter Sunday passes and gives way to Everyday Monday, i wonder can the broken make their way to Him through me?

it's that story in luke that keeps bringing me back - how the disciples failed the father, but through their failings, they led him to Jesus - to the only One who could heal that someone's son.

He takes the twisted and the shattered - you and me - the ones who lie splayed out on our brokenness and He binds up those wounds, because it was for those wounds, for the brokenhearted ones that He came. 

He gives us freedom.

He rebuilds what has been shattered.

He takes the sons and daughters of all those someones and makes them His very own...

3 gifts red

2016. Lyla's love of ketchup

2017. bowl-full of peppers

2018. my kiss on my little boy's cheek

3 gifts eaten

2019. canadian smarties

2020. canadian chocolate

2021. melted mozzarella 

3 gifts that made you laugh

2022. my daughters

2023. my son

2024. my husband

3 gift salty, sweet, just right

2025. homemade spaghetti sauce

2026. a caramel latte

2027. banana peppers

3 gifts found in His Word

2028. He heals the shattered

2029. He uses our little

2030. death is conquered

3 gifts found in women today

2031. gane - planting that tree

2032. gina - loving my littles

2033. deaunna - speaking encouragement 

3 gifts spoken

2034. forgiveness

2035. "this place is FLOODED with cows!!" (says olivia on a drive through the country)

2036. "why come?" (says lyla who never asks "how"? :) )

a gift sung, written, painted

2037. elias - "10,000 reasons" with his little head thrown back singing loudly in praise behind me as i drive

2038. livie writing "mom"

2039. lyla's "rock dog" by our front door

3 gifts almost gone

2040. zeruiah's second month

2041. that last tea bag

2042. lyla's little years

3 gifts redeemed

2043. my mama-ing - every. single. day.

2044. broken relationships turned around in the next generation

2045. our silly new dog

3 gifts entwined

2046. his heart and mine

2047. our dreams for the future

2048. our arms while we sleep

3 gifts of His promises

2049. death is defeated

2050. He is coming back

2051. in Him, i'm new

3 gifts uncovered

2052. the unlovely is loved by Him

2053. He doesn't allow you to look away from the hard things

2054. sometimes what is revealed causes you to cling tighter

a gift heard, held, hoped for

2055. lyla singing, "o happy day" at the top of her lungs in the Easter Service

2056. Livie dancing behind me

2057. that grass to grow in

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

when the wind howls...

it's as the wind is howling on the eve of the first day of lent that i find myself bent over in the posture of prayer

and vomit dripping from my hair.


barely able to catch  my breath as my body gives in to what my stomach tries to lose

and i can't see through the tears.


he has the blanket pulled back as i stumble into bed.

pulls me in close against him to calm the tremors that i can't seem to shake.


and it's in the brief respite that i catch a glimpse into what the season means.


we are sick with sin.

sin that consumes, sours our souls.

and the purging of that which makes us sick is ugly,

leaves us feeling raw and vulnerable 

and barely able to lift one's head.


and all i want is a glass of water.

all my soul really needs is the Person Who calls Himself the Living Water -

when i bring my sin-sickness to Him and ask Him to clean my heart all out,

to heal me...

and when He does

He fills me up with Himself.

the very God Who took on flesh,

experienced hunger and pain and sorrow and death,

gives of Himself to quench the parched places left over from the ravages of sin.


so i take it in,

even as my body rebels through the early hours of the morning,

as i feel my humanness - the truth that i am dust - as the dark of the night becomes the dawn of ash wednesday...

i let the words penned by paul that i am trying to plant deep wash over me as i press the cool, wet cloth against my face,

...being strengthened with all power according to His glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father Who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of His holy people in the kingdom of light.  for He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in Whom there is redemption, the forgiveness of sins.    

colossians 1:11-14

and i feel Jesus near.

when you find yourself breaking open...

it's first thing,

while everyone is waking up with heads and hair all fuzzy.

when we bump into each other unintentionally and some laugh

and some snarl.


it's in that moment, one of the first of our day, that i look up and see...

the way the morning light catches me off guard and sends me searching.


and i find it's starting point

and watch it wrap around this kitchen...

from a high place up on that wall

right down to the the quiet edges laid low.

and i think how He wraps my days in His Light.

how His beauty catches me off guard...


and then i find myself breaking open.


first in humiliation as i find myself holding a thrashing child caught up in a tantrum nothing can tame.

she roils wildly against me, screams so loud and i feel so exposed, as though all my parenting sins are laid bare for all to see.

i want to crawl under the nearest rock,

anything to get me away from the embarrassing spotlight i find myself caught in.


later, i strap us all in as the moon paints the air all blue.

when emotions have settled and a bit of motion is needed to ease the tension that has settled around us all day.

and it's when i hear their sweet voices singing behind me,

singing praises to Jesus that i find myself breaking open again...


because from the time she was tiny, we have been broken, she and i.

broken in ways i have never known how to heal.

she was born into arms limp and heavy with depression and she has been fighting for my heart ever since.


this, i realize, as we drive down that road,

as she sings out that we are the light of the world...


and all she is fighting for is my love.


i read it, somewhere this evening, as i desperately combed through articles and pages and blogs on parenting a child whose will is oh-so-strong.

i read the words that sink deep and break me open just a little bit further...

a child wasn't made for a parent, but a parent is made for a child...to love and to serve and to guide.




where did i forget this along the way?

when did i begin to think that my children were for me?


when did the beginnings; the feedings, the changings, the burpings, the coo-ings...when did those change from delights to drudgeries?

when did i lose the wonder and instead begin to shatter?


we've been broken, she and i.

she has my heart, but does she truly know it?

her actions, when i enter into them instead of trying to quiet them, might reveal what my eyes don't want to see.


my spit-fire child, the one so loud and crazy...is our relationship, all healed up and whole, worth fighting for?

could something new be birthed from out of the ashes of the old?

yes.  oh yes.  a hundred million times yes.

and even here,

even now...

He so gently starts at the highest point and wraps around to the broken hearts laid low.


He wraps us both up in His Light that reveals,

holds us both close with His beautiful Love that heals.

when you find yourself on the wrong side of town...

it's on the wrong side of town,

and the wrong side of the tracks

that i find my heart completely ruined and busted open.


it's at that fenced in playground

near that old school converted into hope

that i find my 3 little ones playing with abandon.


he leans out the window from that top story floor,

tells me he loves me,

keeps me in his sight.


he knows what i didn't admit when i walked back outside,

what i was too ashamed to verbalize...


that i was scared.


they stayed up on the third floor to hand out gifts,

to fill hands that don't have much with a bit of christmas this year.


the halls were crowded

and my three wanted to run,

so i went outside and felt like i had really been no help at all.


i sit with my back against a chain-link fence,

keenly aware of my 3 and of the dangers that lurked all around...

when i noticed him


and his eyes that were trained on me.


no more than 11, he looked at me boldly,

didn't look away when i held his gaze.

unsure what to do, i smiled...

and he stepped a foot or so closer

and smiled in return.


hey lady, wanna see what i can do?


his tender voice trying to sound all tough and strong,

as he proceeded to show me his acrobatic abilities.

and my voice that had been praising my own small three couldn't resist cheering for him too.

because who can resist pain that stares straight into you?

who boldly challenges you to not look away?


they had sat on the other side of the fence,

those two with that colour showing beneath their jackets -

they had slipped in a few moments after i got outside,

moved to where they could go unnoticed.


and i heard it before i saw it - that big old 4 by 4 coming down the alley,

watched it pull up onto the grass,

drive closer to the where all the children were playing.


and i stood up and moved closer to my own

as one very large man, dressed in a shirt of the opposite hue, stepped out of the truck and faced the two.


i began to mentally count the ones who were near,

the ones who had listened in the dark to my heart, to my breath, to my voice for those nine months deep inside me...

when my mind automatically counted a 4th presence come close.


and the boy from the wrong side of town,

the wrong side of the tracks,

stands close to the woman who is obviously out of her element

and obviously frozen in fear.


and the mama inside of me wants to pull him in close,

to shelter him from whatever has placed that pain in his gaze.

to keep him safe from whatever happens on the street he calls home...


and he drifts back to play while the two against the fence slowly get up and walk away,

as that big old truck eases into reverse and drives back down that alley.


i watch him pull livie into a game of tag,

race lyla down the slides,

give elias a high-five as they pass on the stairs,

as his shoulders straighten when i thank him for playing with my 3...


and i wonder where he will end up,

this boy with the sad eyes and the hopeful smile.

the one who just wants to be noticed

and praised

and protected.


and it doesn't really matter what side of the tracks we come from,

none of us are immune to pain,

to loss,

to horrors that hide behind closed doors.


He took on flesh and dwelt among us...


unafraid to look deep into our pain,

to step into our broken

and touch what was...what is... festering with death.


and the radio croons out songs of coming home,

of holidays full of cheer and warmth...

of families and reindeer and farmer grey...

and christmas is shellacked in a veneer of impossible expectations.


how easy to forget, in the lights and the ribbons and the presents stacked high,

He was born into a mess.

willingly.




and as i looked into the face of a boy whose eyes wouldn't look away,

i thought of Jesus

and His bold calling on my life,

on all of our lives who belong to Him.


and this season that i am finding so hard to navigate through

pulls back the curtain i had hid behind for so long.

lifts past the pretty to the broken


and begs me to find Him there...


can i love the unlovely?

can i hold close the broken?

can i let my life be used for Him?


and can i wrap it all up with the thread woven with His very own sacrifice?


it means a change in posture,

a change in view point,

a change in vocabulary.


when all one hears this time of year is,

give me, give me, give me...




let the one word out of my own mouth be small

and simple.


let me be

willing.

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...

the month of here {day28}...when the words are hard to find

this post finds my heart undescribably full.

overwhelmingly so, that the words keep stopping and i keep restarting and still, still there are none that seem right.


God is so good.

there. these words are right.

because they ring with truth.


i filled up a basket this morning with one of the ways i feel most comfortable showing love.

i fill it up with food...

because He has filled up my heart.


and i wonder why He continues to show such love to someone like me?


my three run and play and laugh all afternoon here in the chill of a fading november.

i stand on the edges and watch,

overwhelmed by emotions and feelings that threaten to spill all down my cheeks...


i hold in my arms a sweet and gloriously round 2 month old baby boy.

i rock him and he sleeps close against my heart.

i look at the faces all around me, listen to the laughter, smell the good food and the question dances around the back of my mind,

why?  

i remember being so terrified when we made the decision to move.

terrified to start again 

terrified that He would forget about us.


so, it seems laughable that i question the blessing that He appears to be pouring out.


i meet her in the hallway before bible study this evening.  we walk down the hall and find 2 seats together.

that third seat sits empty beside us, as though acknowledging the absence of the one who couldn't make it.

and we listen and take notes and laugh about our lives and as we head in our own separate directions, that is when the tears begin to fall.


i remember that christmas tree last year, standing tall and bare in the corner.  the feeling of not being able to take down the decorations from the attic that were still packed away from before it all fell apart.  as though not releasing that air was the final grip i had on what was.

and that sweet friend came to the door with a bag holding precious ornaments...one for each of us and for our new home here.


He has been paving a way to here all along.

and at the end of that road, the one that led to this city in this state, He prepared the dearest hearts to welcome us in.


i sit wrapped up in a blanket pieced and sewed together by an aunt whom i love dearly and who meant it to be for my little boy.

i curl up underneath it and try to stammer out what it means to me that He would choose to heal me, us in this way.

and i can't, despite all the words above, i can't begin to describe what His wooing and proving of His Love means to this heart who still struggles to believe she's worth it.


oh, but i'm thankful.  so very, very thankful.

and i give thanks on this twenty-eighth day of this month that finds me here...and for His Love that reaches deep.