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Showing posts from January, 2015

This is the Stuff

This is the stuff.

The stuff a new recipe is made of when a chair is scooted up to the counter and a small human turns into a miniature chef, excited to add and mix together ingredients.

The stuff said during a car ride, when from the backseat you hear a tiny heart understanding God with childlike belief.

The stuff at bedtime when you're listening from the other room and hear the faith-filled prayers of a tender heart.

This is the stuff of life. The simple things. The heartfelt moments that make it all worth it.

And when I say all I mean all.

You know. All the stuff - the other stuff.

The stuff when you're running behind. The stuff when the dog has to be reluctantly dragged inside. The stuff when you finally get everyone where they need to be and think you're finally on your way when the garage door won't close.

This is the stuff. The stuff that does in fact drive us crazy. The stuff that causes us to feel inadequate. The stuff that leaves us speechless. The stuff that…

Today

Today is the day you have made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.
It was a familiar song, although I admit I wasn't paying close attention. The music was mixed in with squeaks from a certain doodle dog happily playing with a toy. The smell of cinnamon sticks simmering on the stove were being overpowered by the aromas of the breakfast I was preparing, and of course the brewing coffee that would soon be mine to savor. My boys were still sleeping but I have the blessed curse of being wide awake no later than 7 a.m. on any given day. Nevermind it's Saturday. 
I sat down in my favorite chair, poised with books and ready to spend a few quiet minutes alone. I had been already thinking about the plan for the day, preparing for our family to come over for a night of pizza making and game time. Then there was tomorrow, an early morning praise band call time, two services, lunch - we would need to grab a bite out - an afternoon outing, and then there would be dinner - what should we have? …

Why I Write

Someone recently asked me why I write. I was formulating answers, sentences, stories, things I wanted to say in response. There was a full blown running commentary happening in my mind just at the posed question. I decided to give the cliff notes version instead: I have to write.

I write because I must. I see life in stories. When I'm all alone and watching life happen around me, I am writing it down in my mind, picturing how it would be described on page. When I'm reading another's words, inspiration, fiction or self-motivation, I find myself applauding the talent and skills of the author causing me to think deeper, taking me into their world. I imagine myself beside them as they write. I wonder what that setting looks like for them to be able to create.

When I experience life, lessons, learning, it comes to me in the form of words. I have to process what I read or feel by writing.

I have journals upon journals, page after page of written word. Feelings and thoughts, poem…

A Dirty Little Word

Surrender. The mere sound of it may send shivers down your spine. Maybe it brings conviction. It might cause you to cringe in fear of the unknown. 

I've shared it multiple times: "The trouble with a living sacrifice is we have the tendency to get up and take ourselves off the altar. How many times have I "laid it down" only to pick it back up again? How often do I foolishly think I can somehow "help" God with what He's doing? Is this just an excuse to get a sneak peek at His master plan? Is this my attempt to interject my own thoughts and opinions about how I think He should work? As they say, "the struggle is real." But for real.

It's as if I have never learned the blessing of surrender. Almost like I have never before experienced the outpouring of grace He lavishes when I relinquish control and submit to His will. 
That brings me to this word of truth I have to share. First, my honest confession: This week I attempted to surrender. Moment …

I Am Listening

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`What do you do when God speaks? You listen. Hopefully. What do you do when He blatantly delivers that same message over and over, plain as day, nearly written in the sky?? You stop, fall on your face, lift your hands in surrender and you answer the way Samuel did, "Speak, for your servant is listening." (1 Samuel 3:10b)
Isn't this what we pray for? We beg God to speak to us. We plead with Him, "Make it clear, Lord, then I will know." We rationalize that if we simply have His distinct and specific will laid out for us then we'll obey. We seek it. We want it. But most often we're not fully prepared for when it actually happens. 
Here it is. The message I've begged God for. The words He's placed smack dab in front of my face - literally. The truth He's nearly been screaming as if with megaphone in hand. The instruction He seemingly painted across the sky. What?! You mean you've never asked Him to do that??
Remember on January 1, when I wrote …

Contagious

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It was the beginning of January. Two and a half hours we waited at the doctors' office. I was there for moral support and not as a patient but I was exposed just the same. The sheer amount of people waiting were more than enough indication of the infectious "crud" running rampant. I was fighting hard to stay well. Vitamins, fruits & veggies, gallons of water, more supplements and hand sanitizer like it's going out of style. I didn't care if I was in style or not, I asked for extra protection. There was no shame. 
Needless to say less than a month later we would be back in that same doctor office, only this time I would be the patient. It was a stomach bug in top of the flu. Without warning or invitation, the illness had completely taken over to make me rendered useless. I had done all I could to avoid it but now it had ransacked me. Doctors orders were that I might be contagious for 5-7 days. 
One. Hot. Mess. And by hot, I mean burning up with fever for three s…