“I lift my eyes up, unto the mountains. Where does my help come from? My help comes from you, Maker of Heaven, Creator of the Earth. Oh how I need you Lord. You are my only hope. You’re my only prayer. So I will wait for you to come and rescue me. Come and give me life."
You know how some people are just born with the gift of nurturing and loving little kids?
I remember that trait in my first, real, best friend, Amy. Even at five or six years old, she seemed to gravitate towards the babies in the church nursery every Sunday.
But me? I didn’t like the nursery. It always smelled weird. Like a musty combination of dirty diapers, saltine crackers and juice. And the babies and toddlers? They were okay. But most of them smelled too. And they were usually sticky, smelly, or crying. No thank you.
A few weeks ago, I was enjoying a relaxing evening in a cozy home in The Netherlands. It was an ambiance of dimmed lights, candles, blankets and music with some precious people I consider to be dear- part of my Dutch family. We started talking about
The other day, I was listening to a talk by a speaker named Kim Meeder. She said something along the lines of this, “In life, there is really just one question: ‘Who will be the god of your life?’” Hmmm… Maybe Good Friday more than any other day, is an opportunity to ask ourselves that question. We celebrate the day Jesus was born. Christmas. We celebrate the day Jesus rose from the dead. Easter. But we also celebrate the day Jesus died. And we call it good.
It’s almost 5am. I’ve been up since 2am. I did my hair and my makeup. I took a shower and am all packed up. The bus across the mountains doesn’t leave for another five hours but I am ready with my jacket and shoes on and my purse across my shoulder. By the time I finish this, I will be on the bus.
I’ve been gone for nine days. I can’t wait to get home and see my family.
Today, I opened a book I had purchased a few months ago at a writers’ conference. The author had scribbled out my name and underneath, “Be Brave.”
I’ve been struggling with that lately. So I laughed. I may have almost snorted out my almond milk hot chocolate.
There’s only one way I know how to be brave. And it comes via surrender.
Have you ever had a “wallow” day?
You know, one of those days where you feel miserable and you just sort of wallow or soak in it?
Sunday started out as a big wallow day.
I cried during Communion at church. Not because I was having a come-to-Jesus moment but because I was overwhelmed in my fear and frustration.
I’m feeling overwhelmed this morning. But it’s not what you might think.
Normally, when I feel overwhelmed it’s because I’ve lost some perspective. I have a to-do list a mile long and an overwhelming sense of angst over all that I must accomplish.
The struggle is real. And sometimes life is ridiculous. You can laugh or cry.
Some days I do both.
First of all, as I type this, I swear I smell dog pee. Is it possible that cute naughty dog has taken to peeing under our bed?
All signs point to yes.
Here we go.
It’s Valentines Day…
I know Valentines Day is supposed to be about love but… Sometimes it becomes more about dashed dreams and comparison. And it’s true what they say: Comparison is the thief of joy.
I have heard the desire for meaning is a universal human desire and we all crave it.
Yesterday afternoon, the front door unexpectedly opened and in walked our…
Note to self: Today’s agenda feels crazy. Drop off all the kids. Volunteer. Meet with friend. Pick up some of the kids. Drive out of town. Drop off more kids. Go to hair appointment with two little kids. Entertain kids with laptop while stylist covers grays. Go home. Pack. Freak out a little about flying across the country tomorrow. Obsess. Try to get some sleep.
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6 & 7)
Deep breathe in. Slowly exhale out.
I’ve been watching professional football games since I was a little girl. Football in our house means some obnoxious yelling, crockpot meals, and lazy family time. And in my humble opinion, the playoffs are the best games to watch- maybe because they’re full of drama and high stakes leading up to the biggest prize: the Superbowl AKA a chance at The Lombardi Trophy.
My three-year-old sits across from me on the couch, ankles crossed, leaned back and confidently rocking her pink and teal mix-matched pajamas. Her curls fall out of messy pigtails and she’s grinning from ear-to-ear as she watches a video starring her as a baby. Her chubby hands grip my phone and she’s singing along to the familiar soundtrack. She loves watching her story unfold on the screen and lately she’s been asking to watch the video more and more.
I watch her in quiet awe, and I feel sentimental wondering how long she’ll be like this.
Have you ever deeply longed for something? The dictionary suggests some synonyms for longing: “thirst, hunger, ache…”
We can romanticize those words all we want. But being thirsty, hungry, or having a perpetual ache are rarely fun experiences.