personal

Be YOU: Wisdom from an 8 Year Old

BE YOU

I was tired, hot and hangry*.

It was Friday afternoon and we were closing up shop after our Rummage Sale’s second full day of operation. This is our youth group’s largest and most profitable fundraiser of the year and it takes hours upon hours of work to prepare for the event. We’d spent weeks sorting clothes, moving and setting up tables, hanging clothing racks and pricing items and we were all looking forward to it being over.

During the Rummage Sale, the temperatures in our area hit tropical level hotness when only weeks earlier (on Easter morning) snow covered the ground.  Between the heat, the crazy breed of 7AM rummage sale shoppers and the longs hours I was exhausted. All I wanted was a cold shower, a big ole burger and my comfy bed.

That afternoon as I locked up the bay doors to the garage, my best friend’s 8 year old daughter came up to me and with her green eyes wide with excitement asks, “Can I show you something I made for you?”

I growled a “sure” as I continued working. She unrolled a piece of paper and lifted it up near my face in order to get my attention.

BE YOU

I read it out loud back to Grace, “Be You?”

“Yup.” She smiled and skipped away.

“I’ve been struggling to be me since I was her age,” I thought to myself. Now at 31, I still question whether I’m my true self or just some fraud. My eyes constantly noticing the things in others that I seem to lack. From the completely shallow (like the length of my hair or size of my waist) to more weightier topics (like my long list of insecurities).

This has been my constant inward grappling all these years– wanting to fully accept myself with all my dents and bruises while allowing myself to be imperfect. I’d like to be gracious with myself and my short comings and stop badgering my soul. I’ll be the first one to tell you I’m not there yet. I’m still learning to be kind to myself in the process knowing there will be moments that I forget its ok to be ME.

It’s obvious I’m no master at all of this, but I want you to know you don’t have to conform to some kind of mold. You have complete freedom to be you– to be fully you. Whatever that looks like. Silly. Witty. Sassy. Quiet. Inquisitive.

If I’ve learned anything from Grace’s note, its that maybe I should love me as much as others do. They don’t love me because I’m like someone else, but they love me because I’m me. And if others can love me for me….maybe I can love me for me too.

*hangry= Hungry + Angry

To Those Who Want To Be A Mom

To Those Who Want To Be A Mom

To those who want to be a mom:

Me too.

As a little girl, I would day dream about what it would be like to have a family of my own. Each night in bed, I’d pray and ask God for that family with a desperate urging. Many times I’d fall asleep as tears trickled down my cheek. The whispered pleas silenced momentarily.

Much of my childhood was a war zone. Survival was the goal. There was no coddling or even gentleness, but a harshness in the atmosphere. I remembering being told I was loved, but it was hard to reconcile the contradictory actions with the words. In my heart, I knew love looked different than what I was being shown. A love that didn’t include fear or manipulation.

Even in my own lack, I knew that one day I wanted to be the mom that I had desired. I’d be the mom who chose kind words instead of ones laced with poison. I’d be the mom who put the needs of others before my own. I’d protect my children from harm instead of exposing them to it.

I needed a mom. Not in name, but in deed.

Then, at the moment I thought I couldn’t handle one more wound, I experienced a beautiful miracle. I was rescued. God gave me a new home and a new family. It was as if my life had turned from night to day. The dark cloak of fear had been lifted and I felt relief.

It was in that shelter, that I experienced motherly love like I hadn’t experienced before. There was someone looking out for me–from my physical well-being to my spiritual growth. I knew there’d always be someone waiting for me when I got home because she couldn’t sleep until she knew her daughter was home safe.

Being exposed to this depth of love only increased my longing to be a mother someday.

Since then I’ve made it a point to serve the needs of children including running after-school programs, counseling at camps, teaching Sunday school and being the best (and most sassy) aunt in the world. I snuggle babies (and change poopy diapers). I’ll listen intently as Mine Craft is explained to me for the hundredth time. I’m the queen of dress up. I’m a sidewalk chalk artist. And I can swing higher than you (although now it makes me dizzy).

All of that stuff is super fun and extremely fulfilling. I’ll continue doing all of those things as long as I’m alive, but being and doing all of those things does not take away my hearts desire for a child of my own. To be woken up in the middle of the night. To hear the words, “Hi, Mom!” To apply band-aids and kisses to boo-boos. Or to receive handmade cards for Mother’s Day.

I tell you all this so you know that I can relate to your grief. Whether you are childless because of singleness, because of loss or because of infertility my heart is truly full of love for you. I know that doesn’t change things and the desires are still gnawing at your heart. There will still be tears and moments where you look at other people’s children and think, “Why can’t I be a mom?” I know how hard it can be to see another friend posting baby bump pictures and wonder if that will ever be you. I know how frustrating it can be when others complain about sleepless nights when you’d trade a full nights sleep for a baby any day.

I see your pain.

You have not been forgotten or overlooked. For you, the one who longs to be a mom, I grieve with you. I cry with you. I pray with you. And for those with the sought after title of “Mom”, I celebrate with you. You’ve been given a most wonderful treasure.

His Glory: Hope for the Hurting

WORLD NEWS

The world is a place full of people who are suffering. All you need to do is listen to the radio or scroll through your Facebook newsfeed to hear about another tragedy. There’s famine, disease, terrorism, even acts of nature ripping through cities, regions and nations. Destroying families. Hurting individuals.

We (you, me, us) all go through seasons of suffering. Seasons. Plural. For some people it may feel as though you get through one and walk right into another.

We all experience it from time to time. It can include portions of our childhood. Or those painful high school years. Maybe it was after the death of a loved one. Or during the sickness of a friend. Maybe you couldn’t even pin point why things hurt so bad– all you knew is that you hurt.

You aren’t alone. That’s one of the most important truths when going through suffering. There are other people out there who feel or have felt like you do right now. We can fall into this trap that tells us no one understands, but that’s a lie. A lie to keep us alone. Even more than that though there are people out there who are for you. They care about you. They may not have been through the same exact circumstances you are walking through, but they can understand pain. They also know how to pray….and make brownies. Both of which I’ve found are helpful and necessary.

In the midst of pain it’s important to keep people around us. We’ll want to isolate and keep to ourselves. We tell ourselves its to shield others from our misery, but honestly we just want to be left alone to pout. That’s what I’ve done at least. I’ve stopped replying to text messages, stopped answering phone calls and hidden away in my room for days at a time to sulk. Those were dark times, times I could have/should have chosen to cling to community instead.

God placed us in community for a reason. We need each other when it feels like the world is closing in. We need people to speak truth to our hearts and our souls because we’ve somehow lost the words. Pain will try and silence you, but your community will be your voice.

In this most recent season I’ve had a bit of a revelation of my suffering and it’s this:

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. (Romans 8:18, ESV)

There is a glory that will outshine all of this suffering. Our suffering won’t even be a distant memory, but will vanish in comparison. That’s where I’m choosing to fix my attention. Because He deserves my attention. He deserves my affection…even when I’m hurting. And when I choose to look at Him, instead of my pain, I’m reminded of all that.

I know what it feels like when I focus on my pain. It doesn’t ease the hurt, but magnifies it. It becomes the only thing I think about consuming all of my thoughts. That type of thinking sends us down a very dark pit. A pit full of despair and hopelessness.

Does it take away our current heartache? No. Will there still be suffering? Yes. I’m not wanting to belittle the pain. The pain is real. It does hurt. But there’s more for us. Something better in the midst of this or despite it all. It is the hope of His glory. (Col. 1:27)

If you need some encouragement or some words of Truth spoken to your heart, please comment and let me know. I know what it’s like to need words…and for those words to come from others. It’d be my honor and my joy to do that…and to remind you that you are not alone. 

The Awkward Challenges of Singleness

The Awkward Challenges of Singleness

Stores have been stocked with bags of conversation hearts and boxes filled with assorted chocolates in preparation for Valentine’s Day before we even had a chance to put our Christmas trees to the curb. More chocolate in stores…who am I to complain?

I have even less reason to complain the day after Valentine’s Day because chocolate goes on sale. Chocolate is good, but 50% off chocolate is even better!

Truth be told, as a single person, I’m not anti-Valentine’s Day. Or rather, I’m not against the idea of it. I’m a fan of romance and love having an excuse to tell those I care about that I love them in cute/cheesy/adorable cards. (Did I mention there’s chocolate involved in this holiday?!) I’m not opposed to love, if anything, I wish every day were Valentine’s Day. And no, not just because of the chocolate, but because I think love should be celebrated daily. Or if not celebrated, at least shared.

It’s not easy being single around Valentine’s Day though. There’s those “Every kiss begins with K” commercials and the increase of rose/flowers pictures on Facebook followed by the “I’ve got the best boyfriend/husband…” declarations. Like I said, I think love should be celebrated so keep the romantic posts coming. I didn’t want to be on Facebook this week, anyway.

The single life has some awkward challenges.

If you’re single, maybe you can relate. And if you’re not, well, maybe you can gain some perspective from this single lady.

A few weeks ago, I was talking to a married friend of mine. We were catching up since we hadn’t seen one another in a few months. As we shared, I’d mentioned some different places I had gone or things I had done (nothing super exciting mind you) and my friend kept telling me how much they missed their singleness and how lucky I was to be single.

As a single person, this is ludicrous.

I get there are “perks” to singleness. Heck, I’ve written about them. (You can read that post here.) We aren’t woken up in the middle of the night by a kid who wet the bed and we don’t spend our entire paycheck on diapers. At any time, we can go wherever we want without having to consult another person. There’s a lot of freedom that comes with singleness and when life seems to be dictated by another human being (especially one that isn’t even old enough to read yet) I imagine you’d day dream about five minutes of quiet. Or at least the ability to go pee without a crowd.

My point is, I have no idea how to respond to a married friend when they tell me I’m lucky because I’m single or how “good” I have it. When they say that I want to respond with, “I hear you using the word lucky, but I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

Then, there’s the “third wheel” scenario. Let me state this now– I am extremely thankful that I have married friends who invite me to things. They include me in their life even when that means I’m sandwiched between two booster seats. That’s love, people.

But it can get awkward. Like going out for dinner for example. If it’s a booth, do I let them sit next to one another while I sit across from them? Or, if it’s a table, do I sit between them– having one on either side of me? Then, there are times when you’re at a scenic area and they’d like to get pictures together, as a family, so you volunteer to take the picture. Afterwards, they ask if you want one, too (which is super thoughtful). I’m just glad that photo albums are basically obsolete with the increased popularity of digital prints and social media. I’d have albums full of pictures of me standing in front of various monuments. Like this one:

WH

Or this one:

twine

Yes, that’s me in front of the World’s Largest Ball of Twine in Cawker City, KS. Be jealous. So jealous.

Most of the time though, I borrow one of my friends’ kids to be in the picture with me. I’ve got hundreds of pictures of me with other people’s children.

One of the most aggravating of the awkward challenges is when people will accuse you of being desperate because you want to be in a relationship. I was unaware that having a desire somehow automatically put you in the desperate category, but apparently some people think that is the case. With all of the other challenges, I can laugh-off the awkwardness. That’s nearly impossible with this one. Sometimes, instead of defending myself I let the comment linger in the bloated awkward silence. Other times, my sass comes out on full blast.

Similar to that one, is how someone can assume you’re flirting with them just because you’re both single. I understand that friendliness and flirtatiousness can sometimes be confused, but my friendliness is sometimes just friendliness. Seems to be a tad bit egotistical, to me, to think otherwise. Shockingly, I’m not attracted to every single guy. Just the flannel wearing bearded ones. 😉

I couldn’t end this without bringing up the awkwardness of unsolicited advice.

Try online dating!

He’ll show up when you least expect it.

Get a hobby! (Yes, someone did tell me this)

Make the first move.

The list goes on and on. I find it funny that most of this advice comes from married people. Married people who have in fact been married for a long time…longer than I’ve been alive. Even funnier is the fact that most of the time I’ve been single longer than they ever were. Not that I think I’m some kind of expert, by any means, but I do have some experience in this area. More than I’d like, that’s for sure!

Awkwardness is a part of life. My advice on all of it? Don’t let it hinder you from amazing relationships. As single people, we need married friends. They tend to make dinner every night and if you treat them right they might just invite you over every once in awhile. We need friends of the opposite sex. They teach us invaluable lessons on their gender giving us helpful insights on how their minds work.

I could add more to this wonderfully awkward list, but I’d like to hear from you. What challenges have you experienced as a single person or as a married person in dealing with single people? Let me know in the comments!

You’re Invited!

ONE

Sometimes…oftentimes….I find church boring.

It’s just that it seems a lot like a meeting to get through. Granted, a meeting that starts with a song, or rather, a half a dozen or so. For some the songs come out of hymnals with an organ accompaniment while others use songs written in this decade. I’m not picking on either one, I enjoy both.

The point is every service starts the same way.

Music. Check!

Next, there’s the offering/ announcement/ hug your neighbor time. When visiting a church, this is my least favorite time. I’m not a fan of hugging strangers. That could be because I’m all of 5 feet tall and hugging anyone means my face automatically goes in their arm pit, shoulder or chest. Here’s the deal, people. If you’ll bend down a few inches I’ll stand on my tippy toes. Ok?

Luckily, we live in an age with smart phones, so this is also a great opportunity to look busy on your phone. I think there’s added points if you update your Facebook status with a Scripture or some lyrics from a song sung that morning. (I get it. I’ve done it, too) Extra, EXTRA points if you use #blessed in the description.

The capstone of your morning is listening to a sermon. It’s a trail mix blend of stories, Scripture and pithy truths to scribble down in a notebook or on the back of a bulletin (and most likely) never read again. Heck, by mid-week I’m not even sure I remember the verses that were referenced. That might be because, periodically, throughout the message I’ll find my mind wandering to the weather outside, the fact that my leggings are cutting off my circulation or the laundry list of tasks I need to accomplish the coming week.

I’ve been to numerous churches in my lifetime and the general outline is the same. Come, sing, give money, hug people, listen to sermon and go. Ya sit, stand, sit and you’re out of there by lunch. You can almost taste the Chinese buffet now. Mmmm….Sweet and Sour Chicken.

I’m not saying any of this stuff is wrong. It’s good to worship. It’s good to give. It’s good to hug (sometimes). It’s good to be taught. I just think we’re missing the point.

Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
    on earth as it is in heaven. 

Matthew 6:10

I think about Heaven a lot. Maybe it’s because life is so freakin’ hard or maybe it’s just because I’m homesick (Heb. 13:14). Its been said, “Don’t be so Heavenly minded that you’re of no earthly good.” That’s a bunch of bologna.

If anything, we need to be more Heavenly minded. What would that look like? I’m not exactly sure, but sure isn’t some mandated meeting. It’d be more like a party. There’d be laughing and food and celebration. No one nods off at a party. No one checks their watch at a party. No one is worrying about work the next day at a party.

I love inviting friends to parties. Meetings…not so much. This isn’t some lame-o excuse for me not inviting my friends to church, then again, maybe it is. The last thing I want to do is bring a friend to church and have them leave thinking, “If that’s Christianity, it sure is boring. I’d rather stay home and watch football.” I think they call that doing more harm than good. Truth be told, I’d rather stay home most Sundays, too.

But, if I can invite my friends to a party, that’s a different story. I’m not talking about flashy lights and fog machines, either.

Our modern day church services seem to place a much smaller value on relationships and community and a lot more value on me facing a podium or a stage or a screen. Before anyone loses their mind, or thinks I’ve lost mine, let me be clear– I’m not anti-church. It’s great to gather together with a common focus (Jesus) and sing songs to Him and learn about Him and build relationships with one another.

I just don’t think what we’ve always done is working. It looks an awful lot like a four-walled box. You come in, you do your time, and you go. That sounds awful because it is awful. I want something more and I think the world is looking for more. Something significant. Something worth getting out of bed for…and not just because there’s shame propelling you through the church doors.

In the end, I want a slice of Heaven on Earth. Not just on Sundays, but every day of the week and I want people (all people) to see that and want it too.

Lessons from the Queen

The

A few years ago, I was a crumpled pile on the floor of a church at a youth conference.

I was one of the chaperones that weekend, and I could easily blame my lack of sleep for all the emotions, but there was something much deeper going on in my heart. In those moments, on my knees, I was asking God a lot of “Why?” questions. The same questions I had asked Him numerous times before and would continue to ask Him numerous times after.

As I wept, someone came to me and prayed for me. I don’t remember the specifics of the prayer, but I do recall that she was praying that, like Queen Esther, I would see the experiences of my life as preparation for the amazing things that would come. There was a sense of hope in her words…there was something more for me than tears and grief.

But that’s how Esther’s story began– with her own set of trials and obstacles. Esther was an orphan and had been taken care of by her cousin, Mordecai. Esther was not only an orphan, but a Jew, during a season when the Jews were being targeted for persecution.

At this same time, King Xerxes was in search of a new queen. He had just banished his wife for her refusal to come when he had summoned her and now needed a replacement. His men went on a  search for the most beautiful virgins to bring to the king. Esther was chosen (as in– she didn’t have a choice) to be one of the candidates.

Esther, pulled from her home, now must go through a rigorous 6-month beauty regiment in order to prepare her for her meeting with King Xerxes. She is soaked, shaved, perfumed, primped, primed, lathered, moisturized and plucked for MONTHS. As much as I’d love some pampering, this sounds like a bit too much maintenance for me, but the king wants what the king wants.

We’ll get to more of her story in a few minutes, but now back to me.

I find myself in a very similar place to where I was a few years ago. Actually, that’s exactly what has me so discouraged. I feel like I’m in the same exact place as I was then. With a birthday coming up this month and many unmaterialized dreams, it seems like I am getting no where. Yet again, I find myself broken, but God continues to speak to me while reaffirming these truths to my heart using Esther.

Preparation is not wasted time.

I imagine in those months of preparation, Esther wondered if all of the work was worth it. There were after all numerous women going through similar treatments and the king would only select one to be queen. How many times did she think, “What are the chances he’d pick me?”

My season of preparation has been long and as time continues to tick away it becomes easier and easier to wonder if all of my hard work will actually pay off in the end.

While God is working on you– cleansing, purifying, sanding, stretching and repairing–take comfort that all of that preparation is not wasted time. There is purpose in this season. You may not see it now, and Lord knows it sure doesn’t feel like “real” progress, but rest assured it is necessary.

You’d never go into battle without being trained and outfitted as a soldier, and the same goes for whatever it is that God has called you specifically to do. There are lessons to be learned, muscles to be strengthened and hurts to be healed.

If you don’t do it, someone else will.

Let me share a little more from Esther’s life. After all the treatments and her meeting with King Xerxes, we are told the king loved her more than any other woman and made her queen. Her preparation hadn’t been in vain!

Although, it seemed like things were going well for Esther, it was not going well for the Jewish people. King Xerxes had signed a decree that said all the Jews needed to be destroyed. The king still unaware that his new wife, Esther, was a Jew as well.

Mordecai is obviously distraught. Wouldn’t you be?! He tells Esther she must convince Xerxes to withdraw this death sentence, but she knows if she approaches the king without his bidding she would be killed! Things aren’t looking good– and Mordecai responds to Esther’s fear with this:

“If you persist in staying silent at a time like this, help and deliverance will arrive for the Jews from someplace else; but you and your family will be wiped out. Who knows? Maybe you were made queen for just such a time as this.”

I can’t get that phrase out of my head– maybe you were made queen for just such a time as this.

Fear keeps trying to muzzle me: just stay silent– don’t cause any waves.

But then I hear that voice say, “This is YOUR time. Speak.” There’s risk involved. I’ve received backlash for articles. People telling me I’ve lost all biblical morals while others still are convinced I’m on the wide road to hell. All I know is I’m doing my best to be obedient to the call of God on my life and keep a humble heart while doing it.

Go to the King.

In the end, Esther did go before the king and she ends up saving her people. Her actions required not only courage, but intimacy. If she didn’t have favor and relationship with Xerxes, she wouldn’t have had a chance.

Be bold in your requests to the King. We have found favor with God because of Jesus. We don’t have to tip-toe to the throne, but can approach with confidence. You don’t have to be afraid that He will somehow be offended or will want to strike you down like some worthless peon. You’ve got royal status, friends.

Intimacy is key. If I didn’t have a living, interactive relationship with God there’s no way I’d continue on this path. It is through His urging, encouragement and prodding that I keep speaking. I can tell you though, if I wasn’t convinced it was His leading I would have abandoned this ship long ago. I would have etched out a much easier, more pleasant path.

Esther made a choice to be obedient. In her obedience, she was a conduit of salvation and a reflector of the glory of God. May that be our testimony as well– that we would allow God to use us in this season and for this time.

Allow God to prepare you. Let Him use you. And because He has prepared you and because He has called you– you can do what you were called to do BOLDY.

 

 

 

The View From On Top

The View From On Top

A few months ago, I heard a preacher share a story about how when he was a little boy he’d sit under the table where his mother would be working on her embroidery. He’d sit there and watch as she worked and all he could see was a mess of strings. From his perspective there was only chaos.

His mother’s perspective was much different because she had the view from on top. Where she sat, she saw a beautiful picture unfolding. Not chaos, but something beautiful.

It’s all about perspective.

If you read my previous post you already know perspective has been something I’ve been contemplating a lot lately.

You see, I’m realizing my view isn’t the complete picture. It’s a very limited one-sided view.

Then, to confirm this even further, one day as I’m scrolling through my FaceBook feed I see this picture:

crown embroidery

Corrie ten Boom lived in the Netherlands during World War II. She, along with her family, helped many Jews escape the Holocaust– saving many lives while endangering their own. The Nazis did eventually find out about the Ten Booms and imprisoned them.

Corrie was imprisoned for 10 months when she was released. According to Corrie, she later learned her release was a clerical error. Her response to that was, “God does not have problems — only plans.”*

In the picture above, you’ll notice a piece of embroidery that Corrie would take with her when she would share her story with audiences. She would hold up the side which showed the tangled mess of threads and share how that was our perspective. We can pray for things and ask God to move in certain ways, but sometimes (many times) things don’t turn out the way we hoped and prayed they would.

And yet, when we turn the embroidery over, we see a clear picture. All the while, God had been acting and working. We just couldn’t see it clearly from our view. What we need is His view from on top.

All of my life, I’ve been seeing things from the wrong side. I’ve seen the chaos and wondered what God could possibly be doing. I question and interrogate Him in a search for answers. I point to the mess and cry, “Look at this, God! How could you let this happen?!”

There have been things that have happened to me that have been outside my control. I’ve walked through some dark valleys and I’m not here to make it seem like all of a sudden I see good in any of it. I still hurt. And I still question. There are nights I stand in my shower weeping because I just don’t get it.

And that’s just it. I don’t think I’ll ever really get it. As much as I pray to see things like God sees them, my view is still limited. All I can do is learn to trust the Artist more. So, that’s what I’m doing.

Trusting that His view on top is better than anything I can see at the moment and that this mess is actually being woven into a beautiful masterpiece.

 

*wikipedia.com (You can also read more of Corrie’s story in “The Hiding Place”)

3 Lessons (on Weeds) from the Gardener

Weeds Post

I’ve never really had a green thumb.

Actually, my thumb could be nicknamed the “Thumb of death”. Every plant I get I kill. There’s just too much to know. How much light? How much water? I’m not home enough to care. As I type this, I have a decaying plant on my dining room table. It’s been whispering “help meeeee” for months now. I pass by it every time I walk to the bathroom. I see it and do nothing.

My mom had kept it alive for me for years. When I got my own place she decided it was time I took it home. I wasn’t sure how long it would last under my care. It’s been 3 years, and its asking me to let it die.

Anything I know about plants, or gardening, I’ve learned from my dad. I’m not a completely useless student. He points out the plants and tells me to pluck everything else. Easy peasy.

Recently, an older lady I know asked for some help weeding one of her flower beds. I like working in the garden, so I gladly accepted her invite knowing every time I help her I get a free dinner out of the deal. A free dinner is always worth it. 

I get to her house and she brings me to where the overgrown flower bed is and explains this is where I will be working. She points out a few flowers that should be left alone, but the rest could be torn up.

To confirm my orders, I repeat back what she said to me pointing at the plants to save. She says I’ve got it. Then, she leaves.

Instantly, its as if my brain has been completely flushed of the previous conversation and everything looks like a plant that should be saved. Or is it a weed?! As I work, I begin to pray. “Hey, God. Can you help me not mess up this ladies garden?” Then, I continue on with other non-weed related prayers. 

My heart had been heavy that day with some news concerning a friend. She was struggling with some very serious stuff and I felt like I had run out of wisdom and encouragement. I’d said it all. I knew she needed a word from God– not just some words from Holly. As I prayed, God began to reveal some things to my heart through the weeds.

Ya, you heard me right.

I know I’ve said this before, but I think it bears repeating. I’m a simple kid, and God speaks to me in simple terms. Sometimes its through a song, a conversation with a friend, or in this case through an evening of gardening. Very often, we get caught up looking for a voice in the clouds or a wild burning bush. I’ve never had those experiences, but I do know God speaks to me and it isn’t something I’ve made up. How do I know that? Cause His thoughts are not my thoughts– He points out things I would have never come to on my own. That’s how I know. 

Lesson #1: I need people in my life who will point out the weeds in my life. I don’t always recognize them and sometimes things may look like flowers to me, but in actuality are weeds.

When I was a kid, like most kids it seems, I would pick dandelions and make little bouquets. I had believed they were flowers until one day someone told me, “Hey. You know those things are weeds?” I needed someone wiser than me to point that out.

We’ve got things in our lives– be it lies we believe, things we are doing, a direction we are heading– that we need people wiser than ourselves to point out and say, “Hey. That’s a weed.” I’m thankful for the people who have done that for me knowing I would have done/believed some pretty dumb things if it hadn’t been for those people caring enough to lovingly point out something in my life that needed to be removed.

Lesson #2: You’ve got to remove the roots of the weed, or they’ll come back.

Weeds are persistent boogers. Sometimes you’ll think you’ve gotten all the roots only to find a weed in the same exact place a few days later.

God is the one who needs to remove the “weed”. He sees the depths of the root and He knows the best way to get rid of it. I’ll miss something if I try to do it on my own strength. 

Here’s an example of some weeding I’m asking God to do in my life. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had a poor self-esteem. Poor is putting it kindly and as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m downright abusive to myself. I’ve repeated derogatory names taking them on as my identity. Now most people would say– “Speak positive, Holly!” That’s part of it, but unless God comes in and gives me His vision, and His thoughts, then this weed is just gonna linger because I’ll only be dealing with the surface issue (negative talk) when there’s a deeper heart issue that needs weeding and healing.

Lesson #3: Weeds come out easier in fertile ground.

If your ground is dry, weeding is much more difficult. You are more apt to struggle, toil and sweat.

How does one keep fertile lives? Read the Bible. Worship. Pray. Ask godly people to speak into your life. Be obedient to what God is speaking to you. All of those things water our souls and keep the ground workable.

It’s easy to let life harden us– to allow people’s words, disappointments and crisis’ to deplete us of Living Water. That’s why it’s so important that we pursue God (through the above mentioned means…as well as many other ways) in order to stay flexible. 

This is my advice to you, allow the Gardener to come in and do some weeding. Allow Him to point out things that need some work and trust Him in the process. Know that anything being removed, is being removed for your good. Sure, it’s not a pain-less process, but in the end you’ll have a beautiful garden full of flowers instead of an overgrown and unkempt plot full of weeds. 

Rest Takes Work

resttakeswork

Seems ironic, doesn’t it?

Rest takes work.

I’m convinced of it. For me it does, anyway.

I have this friend who visits my office periodically. We’ll spend a few minutes catching up on life and ministry events.  Then, without fail, he’ll ask me if I’m taking time to rest.

“Rest?” I laugh.

“Yes, Holly, people do that. God even commanded it. He even rested. You do know its part of the Ten Commandments, right?.”

“Ohhhhhhh….righhhhtttttt. The Ten Commandments. I forgot.” 😉

I try to tease, but my friend is always persistent. Probably because for the past 4 years every time he sees me I’ve got big black circles under my eyes and have a frantic crazed look.

Rest? Eh, I’ll rest when I’m dead I’ve convinced myself. And with that type of thinking it might just put me in the grave faster.

This weekend I spent some time resting. I did absolutely nothing. The only way I could justify my actions (or a few hours of NON-ACTION) was reminding myself that I had been out late the night before and with another late night ahead of me it was OK to just “veg out”.

Unfortunately, this down time left me feeling guilty. Shouldn’t I be doing something. There’s blog posts to write, dishes to wash, bills to pay….the list goes on and on.

Rest doesn’t come easy for me, but I believe it is essential to maintaining an intimate relationship with Jesus. I’m pretty sure He thinks so, too, because He keeps whispering in my ear: You can stop now.

God keeps reminding me of the disciple John. John or the “one whom Jesus loved”, as he refereed to himself in the Gospel he penned, knew something about rest. As he recounts the story of the Last Supper, he mentions how he leaned back on Jesus’ chest. I’m not sure John realized it at the time, but his life was about to get chaotic, to say the least, and those restful moments helped prepare him for what was to come.

So, I’ve got to honestly ask myself:

When is the last time I just leaned on Him?

When is the last time I put my head against His chest and listened to His heart beat?

When I get to Heaven, Jesus isn’t going to ask me to give Him a Powerpoint presentation showcasing all the work I did for Him. He’s going to be most interested in knowing if I knew Him. (And ya, He’ll already know.)

Of course He’ll love listening to my stories about the many summers I spent working with children. He’ll smile as I recount the moments where I found such joy in hearing about their testimonies about the love they had for Him. Like any good friend, He’ll laugh and nod as if its the first time He’s hearing all about it.

But I’m not getting into Heaven based on my logged ministry hours. It’s not based on Sundays spent in the walls of a church. It’s not based on the number of countries I visit offering humanitarian work. It’s not based on how many people read and follow my blog.

What matters in the end is the time I spent with Him. And, as much as I love squeezing Him into my hectic schedule by praying in the car between meetings….He demands more. (Actually, He’s looking for *ALL* but that’s another post)

He’s looking for me to stop awhile and lean on Him. To listen. To soak in His presence. To enjoy Him.

For me, resting might look like taking a few hours to journal with my favorite Starbucks drink in hand, or take a day off and spend it hiking with friends, or play a silly game with siblings or….take a NAP. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that, but we’ve got to allow Him to refresh us and to speak to us in our weary places. He will, too. 

Recently. I’ve heard His voice as I relaxed in a hammock in the Adirondacks or while eating some ice cream with my niece. They weren’t Earth shaking “spiritual” events, just normal every day moments where I slowed down and listened for His heart beat. 

I’ll need to be intentional with my time and I’ll certainly still need my friends to keep me accountable. My schedule won’t magically open up, but I’ll need to start saying no to some things, which is a lot harder than it sounds. It’ll take work, but I’ve never regretted my time with Him. Never once did it feel wasted. 

And from time to time I’ll have to tell my soul: “Rest, Holly. It’s OK.”

 

I’ll tell you what you can do with that list…

listpost

A few weeks ago, I was sitting around a table with some friends after a leadership meeting. As we always do, we ended the meeting going around sharing prayer requests.The usual requests were made– jobs, families, school, etc. Then, of course, there was my request for a single, bearded lumberjack to fall in love with me.

I’m serious.

I tell people to pray for me to find a lumberjack to marry. Preferably bearded. Might as well keep it specific.

Jokingly, my friend (my MARRIED friend) turns to me and asks if I’ve made my list yet. 

List? Oh you know, “THE LIST”. The list that girls sit down and write when they’re 12 years old all the while dreaming about their Prince Charming. The list of “must-haves” and “can’t-live-withouts”. They usually sound something like this:

#1: MUST love Jesus.

#2: MUST be at least 6′ tall, blonde hair blue eyes.

#3: MUST love children.

#4: MUST floss daily.

#5: MUST have been on 5 mission trips and want to adopt a child from a Chinese orphanage.

#6: MUST have seen a miracle first hand.

#7: MUST pray for every meal. That includes at all fast food restaurants and meals while driving. Snacks, too.

#8: MUST only watch rated R movies if it has something to do with Jesus.

And on. And on.

Don’t get me wrong, none of those things are bad. Actually, I’d prefer my mate shared some of those characteristics and desires. Here’s the problem.

Having a list for a potential mate is….dumb. 

Ya, I said it. Get out your flaming torches and large stones and escort me out of town. Tell me how important it is to have standards (which I agree with) and how you’ve got to KNOW what you want. 

Here’s some advice from the single girl, stop looking for the person to match all the criteria on your list. Stop looking for perfection. Stop looking for someone to meet all your needs. Another heads up (all this FREE advice!) no person will be able to do that. Not a spouse, not even one that has a 10/10 on your Marriage Rubric. 

Lists, in this scenario, look a lot like boxes and God doesn’t work inside our little man made boxes. So many times, we think we know best, but I’ve learned (the not-so-easy way) that is not always the case. He does give us certain *good* desires, like wanting to have a spouse, but He knows who will fit that bill better than you…and me. Let’s be serious, there are shirts in my closet I’m still questioning what I was thinking when I bought them. Why would I even begin to trust myself to know what I need in a man? 

I’ve found its much easier to hand all of this list business over to God. I don’t need to write a list because I can trust God to bring me the partner who will compliment my life, and whose life I will compliment in return.

To reiterate, I’m not saying we shouldn’t have certain standards. Heck at 30 years old and still single, I’ve been accused of having too high of standards, which I find laughable. If that’s my problem, then I’ll gladly stay single. Standards are good. At times, they’ve weeded out guys that I would have gladly settled on and made a very poor decision in the process.

My advice? Toss the list. Keep it simple. Ask God to bring His pick your way and for you to be smart enough to choose him. That’s my prayer at least. 

And because I know you’re curious, if I had a list, it might look something like this:

#1: No sissy hands. If they’re softer than mine, its not happening.

#2: Must never wear Crocs. This will be included in my vows because those things are gross.

#3: Cleans hair out of shower drain. Yes, its gross, but my hair isn’t the only hair in that drain, Mister. 

#4: Kills snakes for terrified partner. Always. Oh, and mice too.

#5: Will let me watch Jane Austen movies without any heavy sighs or sarcastic commentary. 

#6: Is not a Boston Red Sox fan.