The Prison of Fear...

Chances are if you know me, you know I place a great importance on obedience. Deep down to my core I believe if children never learn obedience with their earthly father, they will never learn to be obedient to their heavenly father.  I believe obedience coupled with discipline, respect, independence, critical thinking, love, etc. can set our children up for success in whatever way we define it.  Our children are far from perfect and are  just like all other children in that they don't always obey the first time around or at all from time to time. However, we strive to teach them obedience.

With that being said, I often catch myself praying to be more obedient to God's commands. I want to be obedient. I want to do good. I want to be Christ-like. I want to be obedient to His work and growing his kingdom. 

Many times, though, I choose the disobedient way out. Many times I choose to do what I want instead of what God wants. 

There are some crazy things happening on the horizon here. Dreams becoming realities. Opportunities to be obedient at our feet. Prayers being answered with desired results or unexpected results which are greater than our desires.  The unknown turning into clarity. 

As all of these things are playing out, my first emotions have been overwhelming excitement and joy.  It is exciting to see God moving and working in ways you couldn't even imagine. 

Watching things work together so perfectly and so intricately brings awe and amazement. I am not sure I can even articulate all the excitement going on over here.

The next emotion that comes, usually in the middle of the night when I should be sleeping, is fear. The fear of the what if's. What if we aren't kept safe? What if this drastically changes things? What if it doesn't? What if we are hurt? What if we are rejected? What if...

I was in the middle of having a major nervous breakdown when I looked down at my leather cuff on my wrist. "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders." -Hillsong

I have sung this song for months. I wear these words on my wrist. I pray them with my whole heart. 

I want to trust the Spirit to lead me. I want the Spirit to drive out fear, to drive out borders. 

When you ask for opportunity to be boldly obedient and for trust without borders, you just might get it.  

You see, I like borders. Borders are safe and comfy and border-like. They provide me with limitations, excuses, if you will, to assist in holding me back and continue in my comfortable life.  They keep me feeling contained. They provide me some security and peace of mind.  They give me some feeling of control. 

But outside the borders, outside the security and comfort, anything can happen. The risk is greater. That is when the fear pours in. 

As long as I am inside the borders I can feel brave. Once I cross that line, though, my false sense of bravery disappears and my true feelings of fear and doubt are left exposed. 

Now I have to really decide am I going to trust God with everything I have or am I going to crawl back into my false sense of bravery?

The truth is we like to be obedient as long as it fits within our plans and our borders. We like to trust God as long as He provides us with what we want. As long as our children, spouse, and money are kept safe our faith is strong. Compromise those things and we are shaken. 

I hope to be able to share more soon about how God is moving in and through us. There are still some unknowns to work out.  I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared, if I wasn't hesitant, and even a little worried. However, Caleb and I together have decided to take some leaps of faith. We are prayerful that great things will come from our simple act of obedience.

I never want my children to see fear defining my life. I never want them to shy away from stepping out in faith or taking risks, only because they are afraid.

 I don't want my fear to become my border, because then it actually becomes more like a prison. 

And a prison is never ideal. 

Maybe there is freedom outside the borders, but you must be brave enough to find out first.

What fears keep you from being boldly obedient and trusting God fully? 

Let's Just Get Over Ourselves, Shall We?

A few months back, I received a text message from a sweet friend that read something like this...

'You appear to handle and balance the crazy and fun of summer so well. I would have never thought to check on you to see how you are handling it all.'

It was in the thick of summer madness. In an effort of full disclosure this message was received shortly after a confession to said friend about a mild breakdown and mommy failure moment. 

Here is the thing. This mom thing. It is hard. 

I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. Each day brings new challenges. I just roll with it the best I can and pray God takes care of the rest. If I fail, I knock off the dirt, pray, and try again. 

And I am okay with that parenting strategy. 

Because *news flash* no one else knows what they are doing, either.

The rest of my life strategy is basically the same thing. I make decisions based on the information and knowledge I have at that given time and pray for the rest. 

It works pretty well for me. 

Until...

I start buying into the the criticism, defensiveness, and over-sensitivity of the world. 

This isn't a problem with the internet or social media; its a problem with the world. It isn't a problem with churches, mothers, or politics; it is a problem with people. 

The only way it will change is if we change ourselves. 

The first way to do that is to put down your pitch fork, your shield, and your tissues. Now that your hands and heart are free try picking up some forgiveness, grace, and understanding. 

Much better, right? 

Oh my word. What I wouldn't give to see a little more forgiveness, grace, and understanding with a lot less defenses, accusations, and offended people. 

Can we just all chill out a little, people? 

If Mrs. Smith attends your mothers funeral and offers condolences, she probably isn't trying to offend you with insensitive words. She is trying to be nice. People are different. Loss is hard. Some words comfort some but not others. She came, she supported, she offered love in the only way she knew how. 

If pinterest mommy throws a circus party for little sue with camel rides, homemade cotton candy, and freshly fried funnel cakes and hand sown ringmaster costumes, maybe she isn't trying to one up your Wal-mart cake and ice cream-no decorations- free park party. She has the beautiful gift that her pinterest projects actually resemble the picture and she is just trying to make her beloved child feel special, loved, and wanted on their birthday. 

If a wife shares her healthy, home-cooked meal with ingredients she grew in her organic soil garden, maybe she isn't calling you a bad wife for calling your husband and having him grab a pizza and some break and bake cookies on the way home. Maybe she has just discovered a new passion and wants to share it with the world in the hopes some one else might share that passion. 

If a family dunks a bunch of ice water on their heads for a cause, it doesn't necessarily mean they expect that to be considered worthy, ignore other diseases, or even think the disease will no longer exist. Maybe they were challenged and accepted because they weren't aware of the disease until great aunt Mable contracted it and suffered a hard and unbearable death and, as the caretakers during the toughest moments,  would hate to witness anyone else bearing that burden.  

I could come up with a million other what ifs, but the examples aren't the point. The point is I think people need to be given a little more credit. I think we need to put down the weapons and arguments and spend a little more time listening and forgiving and loving. 

Criticism, defenses, and sensitivity have a place. They can be helpful in the appropriate setting. Hurt feelings, judgement, discernment, constructive criticism, etc are all real and have their purpose. These things are necessary and important for many reasons. They all can be used for good. All too often, though, they are used to cut, wound, and/or play the victim. 

I am all for addressing feelings and standing up for yourself. Please don't misunderstand me. 

But, for the love, can we please just lighten up a little and stop with all the fighting, pointed accusations, and poor-pitiful-me-someone-hurt-my-feelings bit?

Can we pull up our big girl panties for once, take responsibility for our actions, and get to work loving, supporting, and caring for one another without the worry of am I doing this right? 

I believe I can only change myself, so I am striving to be less critical and more forgiving, less defensiveness and more listening, less offended and more understanding. 

Will you join me in putting down the pitch forks, including the one pointed at yourself? 

I hope so. Now if you will excuse me I have to scrape smushed banana off my hardwood floors and I don't feel guilty or embarrassed about that at all. ;)

Resting and Refocusing

To say I have been uninspired lately is a huge understatement. 

Life is beautifully hard. Changes, struggles, meanness, discouragement, hurt, death, love, blessings and loss all mix together and create a world which at times is difficult to navigate.  I have had the privilege of walking alongside many friends recently as they experience different ups and downs of life. I have loved it!

I have loved listening to stories, hopes, and dreams. I have loved checking in and encouraging each of them when needed. I have loved share scripture and prayers. I have been honored to be trusted with honest feelings of hopelessness, fear, and concern. I loved pouring specific prayers over my sweet friends. I have loved mourning and rejoicing with my people as they navigate through this crazy life.

In the midst of it all my life didn't stop, though. We have been busy with programs, trips, meetings, service, new jobs, birthdays and preparing for some upcoming changes.

I LOVE it all! I love the busy. I love the going. I love the doing. I love the listening. I love the people. I love supporting. I love encouraging. I love sharing. I love it all.

But sometimes it becomes too much. Sometimes between the listening, supporting, loving, sharing, serving, going, doing, changing, growing, mourning, and rejoicing, I am left exhausted and overwhelmed. I begin to have trouble processing it all. I lose my focus. 

I need to stop. I need to breathe. I need to refocus. I need to rest. I need to refuel. I need to be comforted. I need to be encouraged. I need to be loved.

I need the very thing I have tried so very hard to give all those around me.  

Occasionally when life gets too crazy, I am reminded of why Jesus made time to retreat to the mountains alone. I am reminded of the need to rest, pray, smother my thoughts with God, and return focus to Him.

I want to live a life which exudes Christ. I desperately try to do so. I am so often reminded though that there has to be balance between focusing on my own growth in Christ and encouraging others to know him.

I must have both. I must retreat to the mountain to abide in Him and I must use my life to share Him.
It is an and where so many of us put an or.

This past week I caught myself retreating to one of  my mountains. 

This past week was the week my people were at the Bible camp I spent one week each summer growing, learning, and loving as a child.  Due to small children, other obligations, and diapers I haven't been able to commit to the full week in several years. This year as my family made our way up the mountain to visit the first night, I looked at Caleb and exclaimed when I am here I feel home, I feel loved, I feel encouraged, and I feel renewed. I feel peace.

He laughed.

I really do feel those things there. I was baptized on that mountain. I spent a portion of every summer there for so many years. I met my husband there. I made some of my most precious memories and relationships there.  He proposed to me there. There is peace in that place for me. I became so much of who I am there. 

Each night I found myself driving up the one lane, rough, bumpy road in search of that peace. Each night I left with it.

Slowly the mountain was renewing me. Slowly it was reminding me. Slowly it was refreshing me. Slowly it was remaking me.

It wasn't until about Tuesday that I realized I had been searching for a mountain to retreat to for a while now.  Over the past several months as I have searched, listened, encouraged, prayed, mourned and rejoiced for myself and my friends, one thing held true. In all of it I was searching for a peace. I was searching for Jesus.

 I needed a mountain to retreat to in order to see it.

I needed to be anchored in Jesus so I could balance the mourning and rejoicing, the serving and abiding, the encouraging and the encouraged.

The last night I made my way down in the wee hours of the night. I whispered prayers in my car that God would remind me when I needed rest and renewal.  It comes in so many forms and places. I need my eyes opened to see it. 

I left that mountain inspired and excited. My faith was challenged and renewed. I was reminded that my commitment and duty as a follower of Christ matters. I was reminded of my purpose. My focus was removed off of self and replaced onto the creator.

This week I am left with a little bit better understanding on why Jesus chose to temporarily leave his followers, leave his purpose, and leave his works. In order for him to stay committed and focus on his Father and His ultimate plan he had to do so.

I am not sure why, in all my humanity, I fail to realize that very need in myself. 

I am continually amazed by Jesus. He managed to give a perfect example of dying to self while preserving his well being in order to fulfill the greater plan.

Now if only I can remember to follow it...

Differences

The first time I remember the 'aha' moment crashing over me, I was riding in the car with my husband and one year old baby boy while 'Yo Gabba Gabba' was blaring through the speakers. 

Brady at his 3rd B-day party with his Brobee Gabba cake.

Both of my children have loved this odd and quirky show. At first I was mortified by the strange characters and apparent drug use that it took to create this show. Upon further observation, I quickly began to realize this very weird show portrayed a great message. The lyrics and story lines are educational and positive. I mean, Muno was a key element in helping teach Brady to not bite his friends. It was a dark few months of biting any kid in his way, we were grasping at straws.  

The day of the 'aha' moment the song differences was playing. I looked at Caleb and said, "I just learned something from Yo Gabba". He sighed and looked over with a look that shouted oh boy here she goes again. 

One line in the song says all my friends are different, but I love them all the same. 

Bam! Right in the face it slapped me. All are different, but loved the same. 

I worked out the thoughts flooding my mind while my mouth struggled to keep up and share them with listening ears. I looked at him and asked, "why don't people believe this? Think of the possibilities if people would love and embrace the differences of their friends instead of compare and beat each other down over them? I don't think I have done a good job at this. I am going to do better at this. " 

Once I had spilled all my thoughts on the subject. I mentally prayed a quick prayer that I would be able to effectively teach my children to love and embrace the differences of those around them by my example of loving and embracing those around me.  

Four years later and I still whisper this prayer when the song plays in our van.  My prayer has developed and changed some, though. Over the years my eyes have been opened to all the ways we allow differences to hold us back. 

If I could tell the whole world one thing it would be that different doesn't always equal wrong. 

Brady may have said it best about this time last year when he marched into the kitchen and announced, "Alma(our hispanic neighbor) has much darker skin than me." I asked him what he thought about that and he quickly replied, "I don't think about that".

The truth is different is just different.

(Disclaimer: I am not talking about differences which go against absolute truth, sin, or breaking the law. There are differences that could be considered wrong, but they should still be greeted with love. ;) That is a different ball game, I am speaking of just plain old, every day differences.) 

I take great comfort that I believe in a God who intentionally created humans to each be unique. A God who designed the church to be like a body with all different parts working together for a common purpose. A God who is wise enough to know that in order for things to work, grow, and progress, differences are necessary. 

At some point we as a society have decided that if something is different it must be bad, wrong, or evil. When a friend parents a little differently than we do, we often immediately begin to defend our decisions instead of loving and respecting one another. When a sister serves and shows obedience a little bit differently, we often become critical and begin to compare works. When a Christian college graduate decides to live a single life, we often wonder what is wrong with them or other things. When a neighbor who looks a little different moves onto our street, we often swirl thoughts of lowering property values and changing demographics of our community around in our minds.  

I could go on and on, but the point is the world NEEDS different, not criticism, comparison, or hate.  

We each have to learn how to be who God intended us to be while loving, encouraging, and allowing others to also be who He intended them to be. 

It is hard, ugly, and downright messy at times. BUT when we all appreciate each other and work together while finding a balance of giving and taking and shouting and holding back, then mountains will move. 

 The key to learning all of this begins with love. 

Love God. 

Love people. 

It is so simple and so complex. 

Think of the possibilities if the world believed this. Think of the way things would change if instead of defending differences we welcomed them. Think of the work we could accomplish if we allowed the foot to be a foot and the hand to be a hand. Think of the glory God would receive if we chose to grab each others hand and shout we are all different, but we love all the same. 

Today I ask you to allow God to reveal where you are allowing differences to hold you back and where you can insert love and begin to embrace those differences around you. 

No One Likes To Be Ignored.

I never thought entering a contest and rallying your people to win would pull, stretch, challenge, or exhaust me as much as this #styleforjustice contest with Noonday and IJM has. 

I have experienced nearly every emotion I can think of over the last several days. It has been exhausting. 

Each day as I sat with my husband and reflected on the day, my response nearly every time was I would rather be hated than ignored.

I would rather people hate me than never acknowledge my existence. 

I would rather people type mean and ugly things all over my Facebook page, than completely ignore my desire to be a part of this trip. 

Each time I said this, my intentions were selfish. 

I would see friends sharing and supporting others in their endeavors, whatever that may be, and I would think why do they not even notice me. Why don't people care about me?

As the competition continued I felt less like this and more overwhelmed and humbled that my people and my people's people would help me move up OVER 100 spots in just a few days. 

That thought, however, of rather being hated than ignored was burned into my mind. 

As the words swirled around in my head it finally hit me.

 I am so guilty of doing this. 

There was a little girl in Brady's class all year. This little girl lives on our short, dead end street. I had no idea until the last 2 weeks of school. There were 9 kids in his class. I have no excuse as to why I never realized they lived only a few houses down. I failed to acknowledged their existence in our lives. 

Our worship services are filled each Sunday with people no one ever notices. 

Our students are sitting in classrooms and no one ever notices the battle they are fighting at home. 

People are starving right under our noses and we are too busy to even believe it. 

Women and girls are being used and sold and it is easier to just pretend it doesn't exist than to care. 

Children often scream, yell, fight, bully, and bite in order to be noticed. They often do these things because they would rather get in trouble than be ignored. 

They would rather be hated than to never be acknowledged.

We have become busy, selfish, and indifferent in many ways. The story of Annanias and Sapphira in Acts has long been the most disturbing story in the Bible for me. Basically what happens is they sell all their belongings, but agree to lie to the apostles about the sum and agree to keep a portion for themselves. When they come forward to offer the money, they are caught in the lie and struck dead before the apostles. There is a little more, but this is the basic idea. 

It is crazy, disturbing, and unbelievable. I am sure there are many conclusions you could draw from this story, but one that screams out to me is that there is great danger in claiming to be all in, but in reality being half-hearted. Annanias and Sapphira believed what they had seen and heard and even acted on it. However, they couldn't fully commit. They were lukewarm. They wanted to serve both masters. They were in a sense indifferent to the call of God. 

When our hearts become indifferent, we are in great danger of death. 

Indifference leads to a group of people who know there is work to do, but don't care if it is done or not. 

I believe indifference is Satan's greatest tool. I believe indifference is the way to hurt someone in the most damaging way. 

I wanted to go on this trip to Rwanda, not to save the people there or elevate myself, but to give them faces. I wanted to hug them and tell them I love them and I care. Hear their stories and love their babies. Tell them they are important to me and allow others to see they are real, they are human, and they have worth. 

As it stands it is very unlikely I will move up the 48 spots or so I need to be in the top 7 and move forward  in the competition. I would still love the opportunity, but I am okay if this is not mine. I know more opportunities will come. I hope when they do, I will be able to say yes. I hope I will be able to notice. I hope I will care.  

Until then I am challenging myself, and you too if you want, to look for the unnoticed in my life. Maybe it is someone on your street, maybe it is the bully in your school, maybe it is the defensive, bitter man in your community, maybe it is a grandmother unable to get out and about, or maybe it is a small child or husband you have put on the back burner. 

If my hands are the only hands Jesus has, I want to wrap them around the broken and unloved. 

If my mouth is the only mouth Jesus has, I want to use it to speak words of love and Jesus. 

If my feet are the only feet Jesus has, I want to walk where people need to see him. 

In order to do these things and have them mean something, I have to care and love first. 

Where is your heart indifferent? What areas do you need God to soften your heart and open your eyes? How can we let people know we care? 

Thank you, friends, so very much for loving and caring about me through this. You have taught me so many lessons on community, love, and support. I am incredibly humbled by your support and desire to make this happen for me. The amount of kind words, texts, and messages shared with me over the past several days have overwhelmed me. I love you. I need you. I care about you. Thank you! 

You can still vote until Wednesday here. 

#StyleForJustice

Noonday CollectionIJM#s

Noonday collection and the International Justice Mission has teamed up for the #StyleForJustice Story Team Trip to Rwanda. An amazing group of bloggers will be making this trip to spread the word that when we use our purchasing power for good and pursue the cause of justice, hope for the poor is possible. 

They have left room for one lucky winner to join the team with an all expense paid trip. 

After much prayer, consideration, and questioning myself and competence, I have entered to win. You can vote {HERE} for me every day on all your internet devices from now until May 28. This would be a life changing opportunity and I would be so grateful for your votes. 

I am including my entry essay on why I should be chosen for this trip. 

Thanks for your support in all things, friends. Much love to you all.

    I don't have a fancy reason or story on why I should be chosen to go on this trip.  The truth is I don't believe there is one deserving woman. I think we all are in so many ways. My heart leaps with joy and excitement at the thought of being able to travel to Rwanda with such brave, bold, confident, and loving women.  My arms ache to hug mothers all over the world trying to survive and make a better life for their family. My mouth waters to whisper words of love and encouragement to children living in unimaginable conditions. My mind races with millions of ways this trip would change my mind and open my eyes.

       I would be so honored to join in this campaign and cause, not because of who I am, but because of who God is. He is the link that joins us and the tie that binds.  I am just a vessel.  A vessel which spends her days doing very ordinary things in the hopes my children, and those around me, will see Jesus and see the world through love.  A vessel who desperately desires to share His greatness.  A vessel which truly believes the way to a better world and life is to fiercely love day in and day out through the big and the small.

      I believe Noonday is a living, thriving example of this and it thrills my soul to share in that cause. 

        

Mothers.

We sat brokenhearted and lost inside our small house in our small town. I was 6, my little sister was 3, and mom was 30.

(Don't think I haven't picked up on the fact that I turn 30 this year and Brady turns 6, it haunts my dreams)

Our family of four literally changed to a family of three overnight.

I went to bed a part of a happy, imperfect family of four, and I woke a part of a shattered family of three.

I woke to a house full of somewhat familiar faces and lots of cries.

Once my daddies funeral was over and everyone else went back to their lives, we sat missing one vital piece of our family.

As the tears poured down our faces, I asked my mom to stop crying, just please stop crying.

And she did.

Just like that she stopped crying.

In fact, I never saw her cry again until I moved off to college and showed up the next morning back home claiming I needed more stuff, desperately trying  to cover up my tears and fears as I pretended it was everything I thought it would be and I wasn't scared at all.

We both knew.

We both cried.

She fought with every ounce of her being to tell me that I didn't have to go back, that I could just stay home.

I could tell.

 I could see the words, the grief, the fear, the desire to comfort and make it all go away building inside her.

Instead she helped me gather up some more stuff and load it into my car. Then with a brave face and a smile she sent me back to Nashville.

I was fine and so was she.


I don't think my sweet mother realizes the beautiful lessons she taught me in these and many other moments.

She taught me to be a mom, well before I felt that first flutter or wiped that tiny nose.

She taught me our hope is above and nothing in this world is bigger or scarier than our God.

She taught me that when life is hard,  you wipe the tears, get up and get moving.

She taught me that love is stronger than any grief you might ever experience.

She taught me to love, to be strong, to be weak, to be compassionate, to care, to help, to teach, to lead, to listen, to follow, and so so much more I am still learning.

She is still teaching and loving me. I don't think it will ever stop.

~

As Mother's Day approaches my thoughts have been overcome with thoughts of mothers every where.

 I think of the mother who so desperately desires to hold her baby, but is unable to. 
I think of the mother who is so filed with joy because her heart and arms are full with squishy cheeks and sweet smiles, maybe for the first time. 
I think of the mother who would give her whole life to bear the name. 
I think of the mother whose daughter is very much alive, but far away in distance. 
I think of the mother who is so tired but so in love with her children that she keeps pressing on.
I think of the mothers with broken lives and deep feelings of guilt eating them away when it comes to their children.
 I think of the sons and daughters who so desperately want to pick up the phone or drive down the street to love their mother. 
I think of the grandmothers. 
I think of the mothers who literally only have love to offer their children. 
I think of those very much in the mothering role, but aren't actually given the name. 
I think of the mothers who have given up their child for a life much better than they could dream of offering.
 I think of the young mothers, the old mothers, the great mothers, and the mothers who have failed. 

All I know is that mothers are a chosen, unique group.

They aren't perfect. They aren't super heroes. They aren't well payed. They are overworked. They are under-appreciated. They definitely aren't glamorous. Hello, poopy, vomit, and snot!

But mothers have the most important role in the entire world.

Mothers make the world go around.

Mothers teach.

Mothers lead.

 Mothers mold.

Mothers unite.

Mothers love.

No one loves like a mother loves.

I mean who else's proud, knowing, or disappointed stares can transcend all languages, cultures, countries, and demographics, but Momma's.

Happy Mother's Day, friends!

Go love your Momma and thank you for jumping in the messy trenches of motherhood!