Christmas...and clinging to the vine

Sometimes I find it hard to put into words what has been going on in my life. I have been home in Indiana (yes, amidst hay bales and cornfields...beautiful if you look at them the right way!) for Christmas.

It has been a special Christmas, mostly because I have taken the time to truly soak in the beauty that brilliantly laces the life God has given me. It has been such a blessing to just BE, to play games and sip tea and read books and enjoy moments of calm with my family. I have loved seeing new glimpses into the ways God is working in the hearts and lives of my brothers and sisters.

This year, God has begun the work of opening my eyes to the beauty in "mundane" life. On Christmas morning, while most of the house still slept (teenagers, mind you), I set out on a walk...the slow kind that leaves room for conversations with Jesus. I was so blessed to see the roads empty and looking like this:
In a way, I kind of got to spend Christmas with my dad...or at least, the snow was a constant reminder of him = ) I also loved receiving this love-kiss from God:
Watching the sun rise through the ice-covered trees was like getting a letter in the mail from God, gently saying, "My mercies are new every morning...and great is my faithfulness!"

Of course, it was wonderful to return from my walk to this:and this...
Simply a wonderful day with family, remembering God's incredible love packaged in the form of Jesus! A gift two thousand years ago...a gift for me today and tomorrow. He is faithful indeed.

If I allowed myself to, I could be overcome by nervous energy and anxiety. I start school again (after a long break...like 3 months long) in 5 days. I am reminded almost constantly of my inadequacy, of my desperate need for the VINE. I am so thankful I can be a branch and not a vine, that I can turn to Him for strength and courage and grace when I most need it.

I was reminded recently that I cannot live in a state of complacency. God clearly led me to nursing school, but I can't assume that I'll just fly through with no challenges or redirection. I cannot fall into the trap of relying on my own strength to complete what is before me. And I desperately don't want to. In 2010, I saw God provide for me in miraculous ways. I experienced what it was like to throw myself completely into God's hands. I passed tests and skills checks and board exams I shouldn't have passed on my own. As I head into 2011, I find myself once again on my knees, begging Jesus to remind me, once again, of these words:

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).
Bring on 2011!


This year, Lord willing, I am anticipating:
*what?! I'm gonna be 21?!
*147 million minus one! A special baby finally coming HOME forever!
*a medical mission trip to Guatemala...more on that soon
*completing 4 of 6 remaining quarters of school
*learning more than I could ever fathom now
*continued healing from a grief that began 1.5 years ago
*continued growth in my relationship with Jesus...a daily journey I am thrilled to be taking!

Honestly, I'm more excited about what is NOT on that list...Never know what twists and turns God will throw in my plans!

Tell me about your Christmas...and what you are looking forward to as 2011 nears!

Christmas: A Wailing Package of Hope

Boy. 'Tis the season...to be SICK!
Since my head is clogged
(sorry for the graphic language...),
I thought I would share a post
I wrote last Christmas season.
Although sometimes it seems
so abstract to me,
I am praying that Jesus
continues to open my heart
and prepare me
to celebrate His birthday.
How are you preparing for Christmas?

oh, and if you are a camera junkie,
check out THIS giveaway...cute
camera strap!

***********************************

Christmas, the day we celebrate God incarnate, is just 2 days away. And yet, as I walk the dirty, snow-crusted sidewalks of Chicago, a great tsunami of sadness beaches atop my soul. Here we are, 2000 years past that stable birth, and creation still groans in longing for what she does not recognize to be among her folded skirts.

My cardboard Starbucks beverage container is printed with these words, in festive "holiday" colors: "We invite you to listen to your desires and to renew your hope. To see the world not as it is, but as it could be. Go ahead, wish. Its what makes the holidays the holidays."

If only we WOULD listen to our deepest desires, desires we have tried to kill, stifle, and silence since before we knew they screamed. If only we WOULD hope--not the kind of hoping that wishes for what cannot be, but the kind that rests in what WILL be. If only we would stop searching for what cannot be found--a world "as it could be"--and opened our eyes to the depravity of what is. Only in such a reality can we relish in the beauty of the gift birthed centuries ago--a gift that still echoes with the strains of a beautiful love song: "Hold on, Love. Don't give up now. A covering for your naked soul is here."

My sadness is cradled in that little phrase: "It's what makes the holidays the holidays." What? Wishes? Impossible utterings begging the unknown? Seeing the world through rose-colored lenses of naive imagination? The "holidays" are most certainly a bleak reminder for some of longings never to be satisfied. This is what I know: A baby King, God's human form, born in a filthy cave-barn, is what makes CHRISTMAS Christmas. A letter sent to man from his Creator, promising redemption, salvation from an invisible bondage inflicting visible pain. A wailing, pink flesh of HOPE--promises fulfilled, with a P.S. tag reading "LOVE is among you." Yes, Jesus is what makes "the holidays the holidays." He is the reason I can look into the sad eyes of so many I encounter, trying to follow instructions and "wish for what could be" but never will be, and say on the wings of a prayer, "Merry Christmas!"

For some, it will be just another day of heartache and loneliness, an always-present reminder of all they have to wish for. And it was to them that perfect, squalling package was addressed.

Amid the tidings of wishes and false hope this Christmas, aim to be a faithful deliverer of that package to those who need it most.

The Mingling of Life and Death: The Day My Daddy Went to Heaven

My dad and I shortly before His Heaven birthday

I rarely write or talk about the day my dad died. I try not to even think about it very much. There is a song, though, that plays on the radio every once in a while...and reminds me of that day.


I have not yet had the experience of birthing a child. I can only imagine that it is an incredibly spiritual experience...to take part in bringing life into the world, what a privilege! Even so, the pain cannot be bypassed.

The day my Daddy died, I thought of the painful process of childbirth. Just as a baby slowly lets go of his home in the womb, my Dad was slowly letting go of his home on earth. It was painful. It was heartbreaking. But the presence of God in that room was almost tangible. My Dad spent a lifetime walking with Jesus and praying, "Be still, my soul...He is." For the first time, as he was painfully birthed into the realm of Heaven, he was face to face with the One who was, is, and is to come. His soul was quiet.

As I sat by his side that day, reading aloud scriptures from Revelation describing the new creation, tears trickled down his cheeks. He had been unconscious for many hours by that time, unresponsive to our voices whispering "I love yous" in his ear. I don't know if those tears were merely another sign of failed control over bodily functions, or were truly in response to what I was reading. Either way, we sat and cried together for the last time. My Daddy was literally hours away from experiencing the glory of the new creation. I could almost HEAR the world fading away and the soft whisper of Heaven calling as my Dad was ushered into the presence of Jesus, leaving only the shell of his body for those of us who loved him so much.

Thinking about that day hurts. I don't like to dwell on it, mostly because, at the end of the day, I sat on that bed without a dad. But the experience of watching life mingle with death, of FEELING the world fade away as the presence of God consumes a place and takes one of His own HOME...there really is no way to explain or describe it. At the beginning of that week, LH was a husband, a father, a friend, a brother. As his physical body faded, and as he painfully breathed his last breath in the womb of this earth, he was birthed into Heaven...where he was simply HIS.

Life out of death...Be still, my soul...be still. He is.

Ladies and Gents...

We have snow = )

Every time it snows, I think of my dad. A couple of years ago, we had a massive snowstorm in my hometown...the largest in probably a couple of decades. The schools ended up being closed for a week as they tried to clear the roads enough for us country bumpkins to make our way to school.

Well, if you knew my dad, the story I am about to tell you would not surprise you at all...

As the snow "flood" began, my daddy eagerly asked me if I would go on a walk--no, a 4 mile trek--in the elements with him. I was either crazy or overly gullible to the boyish grin on his face. We bundled up and set out, hoisting our legs through the deep mounds of snow. We went in a square, or four "country blocks" as my dad called the longer-than-normal miles we traversed. The third mile was on a usually busy highway, now completely dead due to the road closures. The snow blanket produced a quiet I had never before and have never since experienced, interrupted only by our heavy breathing. As we finally trudged our way back down the driveway, some hour later, our cheeks and noses were pink and our mouths were stretched across our faces in the goofiest of smiles. Hiking in snow when the streets are dead (driving was forbidden by emergency crews) and all human life is securely locked and cozy in dry homes has that kind of effect on you = ) We may have been crazy, but that snowy trek is one of my most treasured memories of that man.

Oh, how he loved snow.

Powerful video

One of the most powerful videos I've seen in a while...

God, give me your heart for your children...so much so that I am moved to act on your behalf.

Rest...and a deep conviction

So much to say...so much on my mind. I'm enjoying the forced stillness required by an airport layover. Take a guess where I've been : )

Quiet Waters Park...so beautiful!

After a long, busy couple of weeks (with some hard days thrown in there) I was given the gift of a sabbath-rest kind of trip to Annapolis, MD, where a dear friend currently resides.
Do you ever just LONG for a renewed spirit, for the kind of rest that allows your heart to breath deeply and sigh in exclamation? I'm learning how important it is to answer that call. After all, God commanded us to rest...perhaps he knew we would need the command in a culture that lures us into the vortex of busyness. And while I didn't need to fly across the country to find rest, I was privileged to be able to do just that!

As I sipped coffee while also soaking in the breeze off the water, I was overwhelmed by God's gracious provision of soul-deep rest.

The view I enjoyed on my morning walks

I'm convinced sunsets are a love-kiss from the Creator himself! And I'm partial to sunsets over the water!
Can you guess where my friend recently graduated from?

If you guessed the US Naval Academy, you would be correct = ) She had to work the football game, so I got to take in all the festivities from the stands.

Other trip highlights included a DC day trip, dinner at a local hole-in-the-wall situated on the water (incredible crab cakes!), times of prayer together for dear friends facing various trials, a morning of thanksgiving and reflection remembering God's faithfulness to both of us throughout the past year, lots of walks enjoying beautiful fall weather, and a soak in a bubbly jacuzzi. I know, I am incredibly blessed!

As I spent some time reflecting on the abundance of things I had to be thankful for this year (while also listening to the lapping of waves), I was overwhelmed with a deep gratitude for the perspective God has given me in the past year. Perspective is not always fun, and it can be incredibly lonely, but it is always good...especially when it is God's perspective. I'm not sure I can accurately express what I mean, but please hang with me as I try to convey what has been weighing on my heart. Two years ago, I was faced with the brokenness of this world in a totally new way...a way I would have preferred not to meet. Through my dad's illness and death, my eyes were opened to a whole new world. It was like I had been seeing the stage before, only now the curtain had been whipped aside and I was seeing the mess of backstage in bright light as well. Many people don't understand my new perspective. Some people understand all too well. While I don't always appreciate the new lens through which I see the world, it has forever changed my life and the way I face each day.

Yesterday, my friend and I visited the Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C...a very powerful experience, to say the least. Unfortunately, the use of cameras is prohibited, or I would have taken pictures to share with you.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out --
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me -- and there was no one left to speak for me.

~Martin Niemoller (engraved on wall of Holocaust museum)

I was deeply, deeply disturbed by what I saw, but the thing that saddened me the most really had little to do with the past. As I walked by gruesome image after gruesome image, and read about how very few people were actually brave enough to stand up to the horrors they knew were going on WHILE they were going on, I was gripped with the reality that the same thing is happening today. We mourn the abomination of the Holocaust and condemn the people who caused so much death and tribulation, and rightly we should. And yet today, there are millions of people starving to death, simply because they live THERE and we live here. There are more young girls than we can even count being used as sex slaves, girls who long ago gave up hope of rescue. There are children being orphaned every day because their parents did not have access to drugs we hand out like candy here. There are thousands upon thousands of people who will die tomorrow, simply because they had no access to clean drinking water. And on and on and on. The truly sickening reality is this: When faced with such horrors, IF we are faced with them, we turn away. We click the red X, we punch the POWER button, we close our eyes. Just like they did.

The question that haunts me is this:

WHAT WILL IT TAKE?

What will it take for people to wake up? To stand up and take action? As God's people, we should be in the front lines of those seeking to bring justice to this world. With the new perspective God has given me, I am very well aware that the world will be a broken place until Christ Himself makes it new. However, we are called to be His image bearers, to be a light to a dark world. To seek justice, to stand up for the oppressed. To play a part in bringing restoration and healing to the brokenness. We are sleeping, though.

There were many times in that Holocaust tour that I was sorely tempted to close my eyes. The images were piercing and will forever be imprinted on my heart. As I am faced with current needs, with the many desperations that scar the world today, there are also times I want to close my eyes, to ignore brokenness that overwhelms a world I want to pretend is perfect. God calls us to live with open eyes, though. To ignore the urge to shout "lalalalala" when we get uncomfortable. To reach past our own relatively easy lives, to educate ourselves and our children about the needs in the world. To stand up for the broken.

I could easily get overwhelmed. There is so much brokenness, too much hurt for me to even comprehend. But God doesn't call us to be saviors...He calls us to be open to His work, to seek out His work and join Him in it. Brokenness is not a thing of the past, or a thing on the other side of the world...Brokenness is on your doorstep, in your churches, throughout your workplaces. Brokenness is everywhere, in many different guises. Will you close your eyes to it, shout "lalalala," and continue to live in the plush comfort of your own little world? Or will you be one of the few to stand up, to raise your hands in surrender and say, "I'LL go...USE me, God, to play a part in bringing your kingdom here on earth"? The choice is ours to make.

"Don't excuse yourself by saying, 'Look, we didn't know.' For God understands all hearts, and he sees you. He who guards your soul knows you knew. He will repay all people as their actions deserve" (Proverbs 24:12).

I'll leave you with one more picture from my trip...while I could go on (I'm in a chatty mood, I know...), I am entering a Thanksgiving technology fast.

So farewell Maryland (I really enjoyed everything you had to offer!), farewell all, and Happy Thanksgiving!

God's Conviction in a Little Boy

There is nothing like sickness to make me feel sorry for myself. I have had what started as a cold for almost 3 weeks now, and to be honest, I am just tired of it. I'm tired of tissues and snot and a hacking cough and just plain feeling crummy. I'm tired of being tired. And I've complained about it--in my head, but I've complained nonetheless.

This morning I was sitting in Panera, reading my Bible and sipping on some coffee, when I noticed a little boy across the room start to vomit. His mom gently held his head into a potato chip bag and softly soothed, loud enough for me to hear, "It's okay buddy, it's okay." I looked around and saw that no one was jumping up to help this woman and her sick little guy, so I moved to get some napkins and hand them to her as she started to clean up the mess. As she wiped up the vomit, I went back to what I was doing. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the little boy went back to his lunch and his mom sat down next to him like nothing had happened. In my head, I started to judge her: "THIS is why we have a stomach flu epidemic! Moms like HER don't have enough polite regard for the public--aka, ME--to take this sick boy home instead of sitting with him in a public place to expose everyone to his germs!"

I have noticed that God uses the most simple, mundane moments to convict us of our most "simple, mundane" sins. As I moved to leave, I felt a hand on my shoulder and, as I turned around, I was greeted by the face of the woman I had been quietly judging. "Thanks again for the napkins," she said. Then she spoke the three words God used to convict my heart of too-quick judgments and a complaining and ungrateful attitude: "He has cancer."

I was shocked. After all, he didn't look like he had cancer. As I got in my car and drove away, conviction overwhelmed my heart and tears oozed from my eyes. While I have a nasty cold that has made life very uncomfortable, this little boy has a disease that is threatening even his ability to eat a little lunch. While I will "suffer" through my minor illness for maybe a few weeks, this little boy may not even live to "suffer" through such an annoyance. And before I even begin to pat myself on the back for merely laying some napkins on the table for this little guy, I stop to consider the great sacrifices made by his mother. She has chosen to allow her boy to live life to the fullest, undeterred by the judging stares flashed her way by strangers like me.

Today, won't you consider with me the abundance of blessings that scatter our paths? Once we see the beauty of all God has blessed us with, maybe we will have more compassion in our hearts and vigilance with our eyes to notice the hurt that also litters our path. Oh Lord, give me eyes to see past the obvious, to notice the immense hurt around me.

To Kiss Girl Nastiness Goodbye

Remember that time your girlfriend didn't invite you to her party and you felt really left out? I felt that feeling a lot growing up. I was lonely and felt like I didn't really belong anywhere. Thankfully, my mom and dad gave me the best advice they could have possibly given me in times of loneliness and girl drama, and that advice has stuck with me for a long time: Look for the other person who feels left out and become her friend.

Girls are funny. And by funny I mean funny complex. We feel unable, or perhaps not allowed, to communicate in the aggressive way boys communicate anger {with fists and shouts}, so we instead harbor grudges and use the undercover weapons of gossip, rumors, and backstabbing. We talk to her but not her. We invite her but not her...making sure she knows she's not invited. We use friendship as a weapon. And despite the many battle tactics wielded by the mean girl, everyone still wants to be one of the chosen elect that form her group of friends...we need affirmation that much. The sad thing is, girls never seem to grow out of this. We just get better at hiding our nasty undercover aggression, cloaking it in pretend kindness and {fake} smiles.

So what does it mean to be a godly woman, to communicate in a way that pleases God? Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't just stop talking to girls altogether. Sure would be easier...right? Or maybe we should all just live in distant caves, only communicating with grunts when we need food or water. Do we resign ourselves to either fighting the battle or drowning our sorrows in chocolate? If so, I'll take the chocolate, please.

Thanks to my mom and dad, I learned a long time ago that there is another way. There is a higher road, a road that few dare to trod. It is the road that leads to godliness and the kind of heart fulfillment that only He can provide. Godly communication, communication from the heart of a woman who knows her God intimately...that's what I want. I am far from having this foreign language mastered, but I have picked up some hints along the way that I am trying to remember as I seek to walk the higher road:

~Putting someone down gets me nowhere.
~Gossip will only bite the gossiper in the butt.
~She is really not all that...Another words, having my identity tied to whether or not she likes me at the moment is going to lead to a very rocky existence. Having my identity built upon who I am in Christ, however...there is true fulfillment.
~Honesty may be painful but it is always better. I'm not very good at this one...I don't want to rock the boat. I'd rather brush it all under the rug and maintain my perfect image. I LIKE being liked...who doesn't? But sometimes it is better just to get it all out on the table and risk losing a friend or maybe even hurting some feelings...otherwise, all those buried emotions are going to rupture someday, and all you are going to be left with is a whole lot of pain and a big mess that will have resulted in nothing but heartache...a heartache much greater than the one you may have produced if you had just been honest in the first place.
~Using words is way more productive than using covert glances or hand gestures. I can't expect everyone to read my mind {or my face, for that matter}. Sometimes you just gotta come out and SAY it!
~I am NEVER alone. Not only do I have the constant companionship of my Savior and God, there are also many, many people who--guaranteed--feel alone too. Rather than waiting for someone to befriend you, be a friend to someone!
~It is only human to have feelings. However, in Christ I am a new creation...which means I no longer have to be controlled by my feelings. When someone does something that offends or hurts me, I can choose to let that control and guide me {and ruin my day/year/life}, or I can choose to take it to and leave it at the cross. How freeing is that?! By holding grudges or allowing ourselves to feel crushed by something someone else did or said, we are giving them the power to steer us. As a child of the Living God, I want HIM to steer me! *Ahem...I'm not very good at this one either...but I would really like to be!*
~"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue, but with actions and in truth" (1 John 3:18). The best way to combat untruth, and unhealthy communication for that matter, is with actions and truth. I want to live and communicate with such Christ-like maturity and grace that "those who oppose [me] may be ashamed because they have nothing bad to say about [me]" (Titus 2:8).

What has God taught you about healthy communication from the heart of a woman?

A Fading Hope

Hope is Fading – Orphan Sunday from Allan Rosenow on Vimeo.

Seeing Timothy's Face

I am so incredibly happy to share THIS NEWS with you all...I have had the great privilege of journeying with my "second family" as they have celebrated the highs and clung to Jesus in the deep valleys on this road of adoption. I can honestly say that my life is forever changed. My heart has been softened, my eyes have been opened, and I will never be the same again. Today, I was overjoyed to share in their celebration as we all soaked in the beautiful face we have been praying for and eagerly anticipating for so many long months. There are feelings welling up in my heart that I cannot even begin to put words to! Praise be to God, for His never ending faithfulness and heart of adoption! Little Timothy's face will forever be etched on my heart (and carried in my wallet...hehe)! Please head on over HERE to congratulate the Kirks!

When Tomorrow Becomes Today

"Every time we finally reach the future, it vanishes into the present. This perplexing tendency of the future to keep eluding us does not, of course, teach us to be more present, but rather to accelerate faster. We redouble our straining toward the future, never stopping to see where we are, never pausing to taste the fruits of our labor. [We tell ourselves that] our true nourishment will come when we are successful, when we are rich, when we are saved, when it is our turn" (Wayne Muller).

It vanishes into the present... Do you ever get caught up in Tomorrow? Find yourself saying, "Tomorrow I'll go on that diet. Tomorrow I'll read that book. Tomorrow I'll volunteer at that one place...." Tomorrow. Always Tomorrow. And meanwhile, today becomes Tomorrow. Tomorrow vanishes into the present, and all our great plans become the new Tomorrow's plans.

We live in a culture that teaches us to think in terms of Tomorrow. We ask our children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" We live by our calendars and our scheduling devices, making grand plans that help bring Tomorrow here faster so we don't have to revel in the drabness of today. The drug of busyness becomes an intoxicating way to numb ourselves from the monotony of today that never seems to disappear.

I, myself, am a victim of Tomorrow. In high school it was always, "When I get to college I am going to..." Now the mantra is, "When I finish nursing school, I'll..." I dream in shades of Future, often forgetting that today is the old Tomorrow. I've always thought, I'll do something grand for God when... When. When I am trained. When I am older. When I am married. When, when, when. What happens when the when becomes the now? When doing something grand for God becomes a piece of everyday life? When SERVING GOD IN AFRICA becomes wiping mud and grime from tiny, African hands? When ADOPTING AN ORPHAN becomes changing poopy diapers and laundering dirty socks? When VOLUNTEERING AT A CRISIS PREGNANCY CENTER becomes answering prank phone calls and making thousands of copies? What does happen when the when becomes now? Do we move on to something even more "grand"?

It seems it often takes a tragedy for us to be confronted with a truth we continually seem to be running from: None of us is promised Tomorrow. No one can truly say with confidence, "Tomorrow will be the day!" We live in denial, presuming that we are invincible, that WE will be the ones to last forever. Why enjoy today when there is always Tomorrow? Why use our resources to serve someone today when there will always be that beach retirement we have to save for? Why have a family dinner today when there are soccer practices and dance lessons to attend as we earn our small children a nice college scholarship? Denial. We are not promised Tomorrow. We're not promised a summer vacation, much less a retirement. We are not promised the chance to attend college or see our children attend college. We are not promised another breath.

We do have the gift of this breath, though. Are you too focused on Tomorrow to take in the abundance of blessing in today? To allow "the peace of God that transcends all understanding" to wash over your heart today? To be all there, totally present in the place God has you NOW? Are you investing in TODAY, serving God with the attitude of your heart in the monotony of TODAY?

I am learning why a daily walk with Jesus is so crucial to our existence on this planet. It is all too easy to turn to Him when we want answers about Tomorrow, when we want to know where we should turn next. Maybe the answers about WHERE NEXT have been in the HERE all along. Maybe the question should not be, "God, what do you want me to do NEXT?" but "God, what do you want me to do NOW?"

I cannot grow complacent in the deceiving rumble of Tomorrow. God, give me ears to hear your whisper in TODAY.

Beautiful Things

Two years ago, I had just moved back home after the devastating blow of my dad's diagnosis made its way to my heart. I couldn't allow myself to be a newly independent college student exploring the world anymore. I was torn apart, yet unable to understand or piece together my "new" life--a life marked by visits to doctors and dreaded scan results. Days of watching my dad lay in bed, his body failing him as he tried to survive the "healing" chemicals dumped into his veins. Two years ago I was breaking.

A year ago, I had just started school and was overwhelmed with grief--emotions I had no built-in "equipment" to handle, no past experiences to guide me as I attempted to traverse the waters of my life without a dad. I was sitting in a counselor's office, sobbing as I tried to put words to the storm inside me. I was sitting at a table beside other men and women facing the ugly effects of death on their once happy lives. I was trying to find the "new" me--the me without my dad, the me who would never be a normal 19 year old again. I was broken.

Today, I am listening to the words of this song...and my heart finds rest, knowing my story has finally found a way out. The jumbled pieces of my brokenness have found expression in these words:

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

By Gungor

Today, God has made beautiful things out of my dust. Two years ago I was breaking...A year ago I was broken...Today, out of the broken and dry, barren and cracked soil of my heart, beautiful things are sprouting. Because God makes beautiful things out of dust. God makes beautiful things out of cancer. God makes beautiful things out of death. God makes beautiful things out of loneliness and grief. God makes beautiful things out of gut-wrenching tears. God makes beautiful things out of BROKENNESS.

So today, as I begin to discover the loveliest of things sprouting out of my brokenness, my prayer is that you will begin to understand the power of God to not only create galaxies out of nothingness, but also to mend broken hearts. To create beautiful things out of US. To make beautiful things in YOU. Do you believe it?

Finding Rest in the Rhythm

Do you ever wonder at the rhythm that is life?  Summer...fall...winter...spring.  A baby is born, grows up, has babies of her own, tends to them, then ultimately dies.  The sun rises high into the sky and, just like clockwork, sets in a glorious array of colors.  Everything seems to follow this God-made rhythm.  

It makes me wonder how I can be so incredibly grateful for a myriad of blessings that abound in my life, and yet still be overwhelmed with grief and sadness as I consider the part of the rhythm we all long to avoid...death.  Brokenness, pain, suffering, heartache.  I am confronted with this beat again and again: A beautiful woman whose face is bruised at the hands of someone she trusted, an incredible man whose life story ended long before it seemed to reach a conclusion, a young girl ridding herself of the terrifying unknown of an unexpected pregnancy, even a family struggling to gain a hold on a vermin that has invaded their sacred space.  And just when we think the world should stop spinning on its access in somber recognition of the death that haunts us all, the rhythm continues.

Babies are still born.  Spring still comes.  The sun still rises.  And life marches on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that some have not marched with it.  While I do not understand the rhythm, I can choose to fight it with dissonant clangings of my own, or I can rest in knowing that the God who is sovereign over all things NEVER changes.  As the summer fades into fall, as the sun rises in the sky, as I mourn over death that surrounds me, as I revel in the delights that bring me joy...HE remains. Unmovable, unshakable, unchanged.  If life follows a rhythm, He is the steady beat of the metronome, guiding the entire rhythm: "Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta, ta......."  

So today...I will find rest in His gentle whisper: "Be still and know that I am God..."

I hate death

After finishing my favorite fiction book last night, still crying like a baby even though this was my third time through it, I decided something.

I hate death.

Granted, it is a little more raw this time. But these words gripped me, and nailed it right on the head: "Cancer is the ultimate identity theft. It's a vulture--it doesn't care how old you are, where you're from, who your daddy is, how much money you have or how important you think you are. It is no respecter of persons...Cancer hurts beyond the pain. It is a cycle of diagnosis, prognosis, and scan. We live not paycheck to paycheck, but scan to scan. Every time we stand in the doctor's office and hear the scan results, we think, It's getting bigger and I can't do a single thing about it. That may be the single worst feeling in the world...We feel as though we're always just one scan away from hearing the words metastatic, which is often followed by, I'm going to miss you..." (from Where the River Ends)

Charles Martin hit the nail on the head. Reading those words delivered me straight back to a year ago...to that doctor's office, where we did exactly what he describes. Hoping, praying...and then trying to catch our hearts as they sank below our knees.

Death is ugly, and I hate it. I told God that last night as I lay awake into the wee hours of the morning, and He said to me,

"ASH, I hate it too."

Gettin'-Stuck Miracles

The day had arrived. I was to be taking a test that would determine my eligibility to remain in school for the next step of the program in which I am enrolled. A big deal...and I was sick. I woke up with a pounding sinus headache and a fever. Knowing I could not miss the test for anything, even what I perceived to be a *terrible* illness, I rolled out of bed and into my car, heading toward the test center.

As I fell into my uncomfortable (no surprise there) chair, facing the grimacing computer before me, I was reminded of everything God and I had conquered in the past year. Lots of scary firsts. Lots of do-it-perfectly-or-get-kicked-out skills tests. Lots of studying until facts and figures oozed out of my ears. Lots of wiping people's you-know-whats. Lots of me falling on my face (figuratively and sometimes literally) before God, inadequate and weak. Lots of Him pulling through for me, giving me the strength to do what I could not do on my own.

This big test day would be no different.

As the proctor droned on with instructions repeated three, four, even five times, my mind raced to that quiet place I share with Jesus. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Jesus, I'm sick. I don't know why you let this happen at a time like this, but it is what it is. So if you want me to be a nurse, you better do something.
Jesus: ASH, I have already won this battle for you. I have gone before you and prepared a straight path for you. All you have to do today is STAND and let me lead you down the path I have prepared. Got it?
Me: If you say so...

That was two weeks ago, and I am still in awe. I have learned something as I have journeyed with Jesus on this nursing school adventure: If God calls you to be something or to go somewhere or to do something, He doesn't leave you high and dry and expect you to get there on your own. No, He'll pick you up and take you there. He'll part the Red Sea. He'll open doors and hearts and wallets. And when He doesn't, He'll give you the wisdom and strength and ability to do what you need to do to get where He has called you to be.

Have I worked hard? Yeah. Could I have passed that test on my own? No way. That's why I came out of that testing center saying, "God, you must really want me to be a nurse!"

I am learning that the absolute BEST place to be is in a bind. You heard me...in a sticky, no-way-out-on-my-own bind. Why? Because ordinary (and not-so-ordinary) miracles start happening as God works on your behalf. Have YOU ever allowed yourself to get stuck as you step out in faith to do something beyond your capability for God?

Amen.

Amen. AMEN. May we be men and women who seek out JUSTICE, who pray for the OPPRESSED, who LONG for the day when all will be made right again. May we be men and women who willingly TAKE UP THE cross to follow Him...into the homes of the broken...right where He's been all along. Amen.

Oye.

The dark sky was crystal clear, twinkling with thousands of God-lights. With a mug of steaming tea in one hand, and a sweatshirt in the other (ahem. SWEATSHIRT. alleluia, fall is coming!), I reclined my chair and took the time to soak in the BIGNESS of the sky and the moon. As quickly as it takes for me to fall to my knees, I was once again reminded of my smallness. I am tiny. Nothing. A blip when lined up against the galaxies. But somehow, despite my smallness, God can use me to do BIG things in His larger-than-life story.

Oye. Talk about humbling.

When I think about where He has me, who He has me seeing, touching, speaking to on a daily basis, I am shattered in simultaneous gratitude and fear. How can I EVER fulfill that job description?

I can't. I can't. And it's in that little word that I find my greatest hope. I can't. My back is up against the wall...And I serve a God who is the Master Rescuer, a God who has my back every time.

So, at the end of the day, I'm ready. My BIG God and I can do anything, and as that anything becomes something, His larger-than-life story is written. And somehow, by His overwhelming grace, my name finds its way into the script.

Ever think about that? If you try, your head might hurt. Sometimes all I can say is...

Oye.

Faithful

Today, I sipped on a pumpkin spice latte as I celebrated and reveled in God's faithfulness to me. Fall is coming, as promised by the hint of vibrant colors beginning to creep over trees in my neighborhood and the cool, gentle breeze sweeping through my hair. Fall is my favorite season, and this fall I am reminded of God's faithfulness. Sometimes, His faithfulness is like a gentle whisper...barely heard above the commotion of the world as we are hurled from one trial to another. Sometimes, like the day my Daddy took his final breath on this earth, His faithfulness is firm but silent. Sometimes, like my today, His faithfulness screams, "I am HERE! I am RUNNING with you!" Sometimes, His faithfulness is a sweet melody over a sleeping heart. But just as I know that fall is coming, because it always comes...I know that He is ALWAYS faithful. He is faithful in the Winter, when all is dark and you think there is no life left in you. He is faithful in the Spring, when you are filled with joy and just want to scream His name at the top of your lungs. He is faithful in the Summer, when the steadiness of His presence is as sure as the heat of the noonday sun. And He is faithful in the Fall, when you feel like you are a tree being stripped of your garment. He is faithful. He is faithful. He is faithful. Mmmm. I can curl up with a good book and a steamy pumpkin spice latte, knowing that I will wake up tomorrow a different person...every day brings new challenges and rewards that will change the story of my life. But HE will always be the same. Because HE is faithful.

God's Imagination

"Isn't it possible that the life that your soul longs for is beyond even your imagination? Is it possible that no matter how big your dreams are, how expansive your imagination, how ambitious your goals, they pale in comparison to what you could begin to see in your life if you would invite God into your life conversation?" (from Wide Awake, by E. McManus).

I love that I was created in the image of a God who loves to dream big dreams for His people. I love that God had His people march around a city for 7 days to make it fall down. I mean, who coulda come up with THAT one? And what about the plagues? Or Noah building a stinkin' stadium of a boat to be saved from a ginormous flood to kill the rest of humanity? And nothin' can beat the talking donkey! I only hope that my life story is teeming with the same kinds of crazy twists and turns that appear all over the Bible, pointing to the power and imagination of our God.

I think some people are frightened by the unknown of the future. Knowing that I have a God who loves to dream, I find myself sitting on the edge of my seat with bated breath waiting for the future to arrive. I find myself whispering to the Author of my story, "God, where are you gonna take me next?!?! Can you take me on a crazy adventure???"

I find it incredibly sad that so many people today, so many followers of Christ, live lives of monotony and drudgery. The world is full of people who live small lives, lives that are marked by selfishness and indulgence, by purposeful ignorance to everything outside of their spheres of comfort. Shouldn't God's people be men and women with BIG lives, BIG worlds...BIG dreams? What if we invited God into our life stories? What crazy things would He do with them to accomplish His purpose?

Maybe "God is waiting for you to recognize that you cannot control the four winds, but He can. If He commands you to act, and if you will trust Him, you will see all of creation move in concert to accomplish in you what you were created to do" (McManus). Wouldn't you rather LIVE what you were created to do, instead of just dreaming about it at night? Maybe we should all try inviting God into our life stories. After all, a talking donkey is better than any dream I've ever had...And God's imagination never dies.

Who God Made Me to Be

I LOVE that God's word is alive and active. I was praying the other day about what God had me here on this earth to do...what is the heart of my mission here? God has equipped me individually and specifically for a unique ministry on this earth. WHAT IS IT? As I was praying, I remembered a passage I had read a couple of years ago. I flipped to it again, and discovered...THIS is my mission. THIS is the heart of why God created me:

"If you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in darkness, and your night will become like noonday. The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings" (Is. 58:10-12).

This passage captures the heart of the vision God has laid on my heart for the time I have on this earth. If I had to describe, in one word, the person God is fashioning me to be, it would be a NURTERER. I am a nurterer. And I love the image of a gardener tenderly caring for thirsty and dying plants, restoring a dying garden to its once thriving state. THAT is who God made me to be! There are children and men and women all around the world dying of THIRST. Thirst for the Living Water. God has called me to be His Waterer...the one who NURTURES His children back to LIFE in Him. I want to be like a "spring whose waters never fail" so that I can be POURING into the lives of the THIRSTY. At the end of my life and ministry here on this earth, I want people to remember that Jesus TRULY IS a Repairer of Broken Walls, a Restorer of Streets with Dwellings! He is a Repairer of broken lives, a Restorer of men and women and children who, according to the world, were a "lost cause!"

I am so thankful God is allowing me to take part in His work.

As I was thinking about the different roles of a "nurterer," several came to mind that I still need to grow into. I am praying that God continues to fashion me into the "gardener" he wants me to be! These are the roles I am praying He would grow me to fill in the lives of His children:

Encourager
Treasurer
Protector
Fosterer
Teacher
Healer
Refiner
Sustainer
Comforter
Supporter
Cultivator
Keeper
Embracer

I had never heard this song before today, but I think it, too, captures the heart of who Jesus wants me to be in this world! I WANT to be His love to a dying people! I want to be His voice, His hands, His chain-breaker, His peace-maker, His hope! Ultimately, I want to carry the broken to the cross.

What does God have YOU here to do?
If you are still breathing, He has you here for a PURPOSE.

Relationships and Death

Before that day, I trusted easily. Faults had to be revealed--people didn't start with them. Now, people start with them and trust has to be earned.

That day, my world crashed and relationships were never the same...because I realized no one is unbreakable. Everyone will shatter, even if someone else does the breaking. And because everyone will shatter, every human relationship will end in death. Every one. Oh, we try to ignore, hide, avoid a reality as disheartening as this one, but ultimately we cannot escape the truth.

That day, the truth tackled me like a giant sumo wrestler leveling his opponent.

Some days, I hate it. I hate that I think the worst, that I prepare for death before life has even begun to sprout. I hate it. And I wonder how Jesus related...the One who knows the heart of every man on earth. How could He know the truth and still relate? How could He see the black reality of sin--of pride, greed, jealousy, anger--and still make Himself vulnerable in relationship?

How do I share myself, knowing the end reality? A painter can create a brilliant masterpiece, but why should he fashion it if he knows it will only be thrown in the fire upon completion? Therein lies a deeper contemplation I rarely dare to visit.

Can it be that the momentary beauty of the painting is of such surpassing brilliance that even death cannot thwart it? Can I claw away the layers of who I am on top--the skin, the muscle--and expose my inner reality, not knowing if I will be picked clean or healed? Right now, being eaten alive overwhelms me, so I rest in this shroud of anonymity.

Maybe someday I will once again venture into nakedness, glorying in the momentary beauty of the painting rather than honing in on this reality that now stands before me, taller than Goliath.

Reading

If I could dream up the perfect day, it just might include a chilly cave {complete with a hammock...or firm mattress} and a good book. I've hit it pretty close. There's something about reading that reminds me of this:Beautiful B at her 4-year-old birthday party...a princess for sure

And this:

Big brother N playing superhero with the gift-wrapping supplies

I'm not sure it's good for me.

Do you remember those days when feeding your {fake} family was the greatest of all worries you confronted? When a feud between siblings ruined a perfectly good card game and day? When you could find escape from a world you knew little of in a giggle-full game of hide-and-seek?

Reading sends me back to those days...until somewhere deep inside me, a geyser of soul-seeking I'd typically prefer to avoid opens up--Soul-seeking that plagues me with questions about the human connection. Because life isn't like those days anymore...but it feels like it is supposed to be.

If I had to choose, I think I would choose the princess dress or superhero cape over soul-searching and sin-shrouded reality.

Which is why I avoid reading most of the time...but hot summer days and *vacation* comes with a prescription for one long afternoon spent in a cool, air-conditioned cave with a good read and plenty of soul-searching.

And so, the clung-to princess days fade and the soul-searching begins. Hello, summer.

Celebration of Summer #3

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Nothing like a hot day at the zoo with visiting friends to celebrate summer! {please excuse the poor image quality}

"...There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother..." (Prov. 18:24).

Don't you just love the eagerness oozing from this picture? I'm sure we left lots of finger prints on the peering glass... The kids had a blast seeing and learning about unfamiliar animals!

Afterward, we collapsed at Uno's Pizzeria for a delicious lunch.

What a fun way to celebrate someone's 4th birthday!

Happy birthday B! I can't believe it was 4 years ago that I first held you in my arms! May you continue to grow in gentleness as the love of Jesus shines through you!

Summer Celebration #2

The destination...


My shoppin' partner...

Abigail+Abigail=tons of fun!



Gotta test out the wares...

The purchase!

Simple and fun.


Happy Summer!