It doesn't have to have a point.

Nick and I ran away this past weekend, for about 36 hours to Asheville, North Carolina.  His birthday had been a few days before our first church service and Valentines day was a few days before our second service, so both were pretty overshadowed by what was going on in our lives and it had been awhile since we'd just been alone and quiet together. We're both what I call "fake introverts" - meaning we're people-people and like to talk and host people, but on the inside we're pretty intense introverts and need alone time fairly regularly. And we have four kids and we're planting a church and run online businesses, so if we don't run away to Asheville or somewhere else occasionally - we might implode. 

The first twenty or so minutes of the drive, we held hands and REALLY talked. We talked about our wishes for the coming 36 hours and agreed, we wanted to be together, we wanted to hike & read, and we didn't want the trip to have a point. 

We're producers, him and I. It's not a beautiful part of our hearts and lately, we're feeling less proud of our ability to get things done and more convicted of our need to let things go. This hasn't always been our story. If you had a serious talk with our friends from five or six years ago, they'd tell you, we were a (beautiful) mess back then. We could barely take care of ourselves and we lived the life of the younger brother in the story of the prodigal son. Always in trouble, seemingly a mess, in serious need of help. 

But time and small business and God's growth has changed us, and here we find ourselves - absolutely living the life of the older brother. Putting in the hours and trying to do x, y, and z and making sure that every single part of our day is intentional and has. a. point. I try to combine eating with other activities and I have lists upon lists upon lists. We are goal setters, dreamers, and doers. I don't want you to get the wrong impression that we're perfect task masters either. We're still messy. There are always dishes in our sick & library books to return. I typically have way too many emails in my inbox to respond to and there is usually a laundry basket with folded clothes sitting on my bedroom floor, screaming at me to put it up. 

All that being said, this weekend we swung as hard as we could the other way (the right way?) and nothing had a point. We hiked in the not-most-beautiful area and without a destination in mind. We held hands and walked in silence. I laid in the hotel and looked at the ceiling while Nick read books with his headphones on. We talked a little over our meals, but mostly just smiled at each other. It wasn't a retreat to grow or build or change or get ahead. I didn't catch up on emails during the drive or even pick up any of the 6 books I brought along. We just needed to breath and be and see the Lord's creation and connect with Him again - not as servants, but as sons and daughters in whom He is already well pleased because of Christ within us. 

The wasn't a point, but there was purpose in the rest. 

Grace. Grace was the purpose in the rest. 

And maybe that's not a fitting message for Monday morning when all the things are a flutter and buzzing around you. 

Or maybe it is. 

There doesn't have to be a point. 

But there can be a purpose. 

an audacious declaration

This week, on Monday night, I had a big event planned. 

I'd been thinking about it for weeks and anticipating what it would be like, how I'd feel, what I'd wear. 

My big plans? A night of reading. And it was glorious. 

I preach to other women about REST! Take time to create, be balanced! But in real life, it's very hard for me to shut it all off when the kids go to bed. There is always an email (or 50) left to answer, there is always a new project to dream up, someone to meet with, a new product to design. It takes so much discipline to put it all aside, actually sit down, and read some books. 

we are free to rest

A million people have talked about rest and women and how we're not always that amazing at it. I feel like I've talked about it many different ways here.

swinging into rest // and end of summer benediction // rejoicing about rest

Today I thought we'd just look straight at lies women believe about rest and look straight at what God's Word says about those lies. I casually asked something on twitter about lies and rest and the response was overwhelming. Here are some of the things we seem to be hearing and here are some Biblical truths that I am trying to apply as I struggle right alongside you. 

We believe that rest is not productive or helpful or moving forward. 
If our Heavenly Father and Jesus both rested in the midst of their ministry, can't we put this to bed? Even in nature we see that pruning is a part of growing things. It takes pruning, watering, and waiting. Rest grows things in us. We wouldn't expect our kids to grow well physically if they weren't nurtured or rested, why do we expect the same of ourselves?

We believe that rest equates laziness. 
Genesis 2 tells us that rest is good and Holy because God not only invented it, but did it Himself. 

We hear that we should find rest in Jesus and we are lazy if we need physical rest. 
I have learned throughout the years that I can try to have my heart in the right place, but if I've gotten no sleep or no introvert time or no time to be recreated by the Lord - I will still seem straight up crazy. I'll do the crazy crying or the crazy yelling and it won't matter how many quiet times I've had. 

We believe that rest is deserved only in proportion to how crazy full our life is. 
Rest is grace and a gift. If we only got rest in proportion to how much we need it, our Father wouldn't have needed any. He was and is the source of all life forever and ever. Rest is a graceful gift and that means we can't (and shouldn't try to) earn it. 

That rest is impossible if we have young children. 
As important as physical rest is, as a former three-under-three mama, I know sometimes it just isn't there. But I do think Jesus meets us in the crazy times and makes Matthew 11 become real to us. I also think that as women we have a hard time making time for physical rest and there would be times when I'd truly deny physical rest because I couldn't accept grace from the Lord. My husband offers me time to nap around once a week and I think I've taken him up on it twice in our entire marriage. Why? Because of pride and a lack of wanting to accept grace. 

If you feel like physical rest isn't available to you, be sure you're not denying it. 
But if it truly isn't available on some days or in some seasons, walk in the full knowledge that you know the God who created rest and He can give it miraculously where needed. 

We might believe that rest is only found on the beach with an alcoholic beverage and no children around. I think any believer who has sought rest on a deserted beach with an alcoholic beverage and NOT invited the Lord into their rest can tell you - even that is not restful. Rest for us is simply letting the Lord restore and recreate us - physically, emotionally, mentally. I personally think there's nothing wrong with a beach and the occasional margarita, if it's done in a worshipful way (1 Timothy 4:4-5). Likewise, sometimes the most restful days for me are sitting on the couch and engaging with my kids or going to the pumpkin patch with them. 

Sometimes I find rest in reading and writing with the Lord and sometimes I find it in corporate worship with other believers. The key is to remember He says "come to ME" for rest. We've got to stop seeing rest as reclusion from everything and everyone (including the Lord). Sometimes rest will be in the community of other believers and it should always be as we're in communion with the Lord. 

That rest is "me time". 
Being recreated and rejuvenated by the Lord who gives us rest isn't indulgent no matter how it looks. Likewise, being indulgent with selfish motivation isn't true rest with the Lord. Don't judge your rest by it's appearance, judge it by your heart. 

We think that rest is selfish. 
I think that as women, rest can be one of the most selfless things we do. In my own strength, I want to keep going and going and going. And yet, when I want best for others - for those that I'm loving and serving, I know it works best when it's done from a place of rest before work where my strength, gifts, joy, and work are all coming from Him. 

To cap it all off, I'll tell you this. 
Last night I was in a yoga-type class and the super wise Nancy from N:Motion said this, "Women typically go one direction - fast and forward. And yet the Lord made us to go in so many different speeds and directions." Could it be that we're not walking in the fullness of relationship with Him because we're not exploring other speeds and directions? 

What would it look like for you to get wild and free in your rest today? 
Would He meet you there? Might there be more of Him and His goodness for you that you've resisted because you've refused His rest? 
Let's talk about it. 

  

the D word.

This is a post I wrote on March 9, 2011 called "the real running story and the D word". It was when I spoke very carefully and very cautiously about my struggle with depression. Not any more sister, whatchu wanna know?

psalm 28:6-7

I've written before about that magical 8.9 mile run in November. 
Before that day, the most I could eek out was a mile or two or MAYBE three, but I hated it so much and really wanted to quit. I'm not sure what kept making me go out and run at that point, besides just sheer determination to get past three miles. 
And then, that day. 
It wasn't a huge deal, I mean - it was a huge deal to US, my friend recognized at mile four, at mile five, six, and so on... this was a big deal. I kept telling her - this run was teaching me more about the Lord's ability to perform something in someone than anything I'd ever experienced. It wasn't just that I was running such a longer distance, I was LOVING it, enjoying it, talking through it and planning to do it again. 


What I haven't written a ton about was what happened twenty four hours after that run.
When two loving friends sat me down and used the "d-word" in a serious, we're concerned about you, this-is-a-big-deal-kind-of-talk. Hilariously, I think I responded with some pretty messed up statements. I don't have TIME to be depressed. My husband is planting a church, we're in the middle of transition - moving to Boston, I have three kids! My normal cycle for a long time had been a) function in way that knew God's help was nearby, but refuse it with an intense desire to be a good __________ on my own, b) when I failed or when life failed, lose my mind for about fifteen minutes and finally c) somehow, being very quiet and very still, ask the Lord to put me back together again in His grace (my most unfavorite word at the time) so that I could try my hardest to perform on my own again.  That cycle had left me a little battered, maybe even depressed. 


Long story short, Boston was postponed. With the intention to go later and all arrive as healthily as we possibly could. We settled in Columbia and I settled into counseling. And I kept running. My counselor would give me these beautiful and really intense bits of homework each week, and some of it was so hard to do. I quickly realized, that if you're thinking on the state of your heart while preparing pb&honey sandwiches, and begin crying, your two year old will freak out. If I got up early to work on my "homework", sometimes I was in a yucky place all day. Running became my second counseling session of the week, time to process my hard questions. 


When you ask a performance-driven stay at home mom who doesn't really like the concept of grace "what do you NEED, Jessi?", she wants to throw a small couch pillow at you and say, "NOTHING! What do you need?! Seriously, can I get you some coffee?!". I remember running and losing myself in the miles on that one. Lord, is it all right to need something? Would You tell me what it is I need and how I can rely on You to get it? Ps: I really don't want to do this. Then there was, "Jessi, you seem to bring a lot of outside rejection and anxiety into simple conversations, can we talk about that?" No, sweet counselor - we can't right now because that would be a little too vulnerable and I would lose my junk in this office building, but I promise to think about it on my run this weekend. "Do you believe God really wants good for you? Why not?". That one took some outside time as well. Um, a lot of outside time.


So I kept running, and processing. And in His really sweet grace and love, He'd given me that first run to look back on. If He could do that, cause me to run that miraculous nine-ish miles - from start to finish, I believed He could finish this pain that was causing my heart to be depressed. He's done HUGE things, bigger things, much more miraculous things - but it was that run, with my short-stubby-non-runner legs that really showed me faithfulness. AND THE PROGRESS! Against my own desires, I was still running. Longer and faster, and more and more. And who noticed how hard it was anymore, when I had these intense questions to mull over as I went. And He was answering them.


Then one day, I worked up the intense hope, with fear mingled, to tell my sweet counselor some of the most fun and scary words ever, "I think I'm feeling better. I think He's healing me". It sure wasn't anything I'd done on my own, and it was so much quicker than I ever, ever expected. But one morning, I woke up and searched all around my mind and heart for anxiety - it was gone. It was a little lonely in my brain without my daily anxiety to battle, so I went hunting for despair - because he tended to hang around a good bit too, waiting for me to fight him off with scripture and prayer. They had both been missing for a few days, and it was either a fluke or a miracle and I had to know which one. I looked at her with an awkward smile, because I'm an awkward smiler. I waited for her to deny my claim or laugh at my audacity or pull out a straight jacket. But instead, she confirmed what He already had, when she leaned forward and smiled sweetly, 
"I think you're right."


And she suggested for my next run, to just celebrate. Praise the Lord with each step. Worship Him and thank Him for His healing and for His grace (favorite word now!). Stop wrestling and enjoy His presence and His relationship, and that He calls you His daughter. 
And I did. And somewhere during that ten mile run, I laughed to myself thinking, "ha! I've been running this whole time?! who knew?!". I didn't ever go on a long run with the extreme dedication to prove to myself that I could do it. I usually went with the assumption that He'd allow me to run as far and as long as I needed to, for Him to sort out what He needed to, in my heart. And He always did. But it was never about me or any dedication I had. Just a lady running out of desperation, running towards healing and the Lord, and finding herself in love with running at the end of it. By accident. 


So now, in this season of healing and intense joy, each running step is different. 
It's exultant and excited. But I know that when another hard season comes, of any kind, the other sort of running will be there. To escape and wrestle and pray and cry out to Him. 
And I'll have my shoes ready. 


Lastly, here are they lyrics to song I listened to a good deal when I first began running. 
The singer is constantly stating, "I have to believe _________", with statements that are true about the Lord. I think it can be sung with resignation when you absolutely do not want to believe and yet, you know Jesus is literally all you have. You know, when you want to give up or give in, but a small, miniscule shred of your heart is telling you - you HAVE to cry out. It can also be sung from the viewpoint of "I HAVE TO" because your heart is literally bursting at the seems to believe in the Lord and claim His work in your heart. 
I recommend listening to it whichever place you're in. 


Rita Springer, I have to believe
I have to believe
That He sees my darkness
I have to believe
He knows my pain
I have to lift up
My hands to worship
Worship His name

I have to declare
That He is my refuge
I have to deny
That I am alone
I have to lift up
My eyes to the mountain
It's where my help comes from

Oh yeah
He said that He's forever faithful
He said that He's forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

Oh, I have to stand tall
When the wind blows me over
I have to stand strong
When I'm weak and afraid
I have to grab hold
Ahold of the garments
The garments of praise [ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/rita_springer/i_have_to_believe.html ]
I know, I know, I know
Cause He said that He's forever faithful
And He said that He's forever true
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

I have to sing praise
When the hour is midnight
He unlocks these chains
That bind up my soul
My sin and my shame
He has forgiven and made me whole

Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Cause He said that He's forever faithful
And He said that He's forever true
He said that He can move mountains
He said that He can move mountains
He said that He can move mountains
If He can move mountains
He can move my mountain
He can move your mountain, too

I have to believe
I have to believe

the year of the big ring

this is "the year of the big ring". it was originally posted on December 13, 2011. 

It all started with the big ring. Well, the big ring(s).
For Christmas last year, Nick gave me this honkin' big old red ring.
I loved it. But it felt too BIG for me.

Let me back up, a few years ago, I was a mama to three bebes. BABIES.
I had three in diapers, I had three at my feet, I had three in my arms - at all times.
I lost a lot of who I was or who I thought I was and now, looking back I'm so glad.
Sometimes you gotta burn down something that's rotten to build something new, right?

Anyhow, at best, with my style and looks, I could feel semi-put together.
There was no feeling sassy, feeling cute, feeling stylish.
I just wanted pants that fit (rarely had those) and no spit up on them (yeah right).
I didn't want the most beautiful home, I wanted a clean floor.
I didn't want a decorative tablescape, I wanted a clean high chair.
You get my drift.

And somewhere in all of that, in those span of years,  I confessed to Nick that anything more than some simple earrings felt like I was drawing attention to a person that couldn't hold or deserve any attention. If I was having a particularly promising day, I might throw on some cuter flats or some hoops, but mostly my staple pearl earrings and tennis shoes did the job.

But then, the big honkin' red ring.
I knew what my husband was saying.
That I had his attention.
And I was worth his attention.
That Christ had made me a woman worth his attention.
And he liked looking at me.

And two days later, when celebrating with our extended family, I unwrapped a box from my mom and wouldn't you know a big massive gold ring sat perched in tissue paper. Tears burst from my eyes and I asked her over and over again, "this is for me?!" "this ring is for me?!" "you bought me this beautiful big ring?!". She laughed and smiled and teared up too. She said it was a cheap gold ring, but that yes, she'd bought it for me - intended it for me.

The big rings were like a gateway drug. 
Next came cigarette pants, more than one pairs of heels in my closet. Cut off shorts with tights underneath them. Thrift shopping like no other. Scarfs used as headbands. Red lipstick. Red lipstick. More red lipstick. Ombre hair.

I don't really have anything to say to wrap this up neatly.
Just to say that a year ago the broken parts of my mind thought if I wore a red ring, I'd be drawing attention to the mess that was myself, my soul, my heart.
And now, I have five big old honkin' rings sitting in my jewelry box.
And I'd wear them all on the same day if I could.
I've tried. I can't hold Benja's hand and wear them all at once.

And I know, the lady who wears them is nothing special.
But the Savior within her is everything.
He's grace and truth and color and love and excitement and
He's everything special.
And He wrote 2011 to be the year of the Big Ring for me.

And for that, I could not be more grateful.

oh, you.

This was titled, "oh, you." and was originally posted on August 10th, 2010. It's always been one of my faves. And while we may not know if our kids will ever say they're from Boston, everything else still applies. 
.........................................


Maybe it was your eighty-degrees-in-the-fall that threatened my cardigan wearing habits.
Maybe it was the sun, seeking me out all day, finding me and all my imperfections.
It could have been your people, quick to smile and talk and hug and chat - leaving me feeling awkward and out of place.
Whatever it was, I had to get away.

We ran as far as we could. From sunshine and smiles to rain and scowls. And while I brought my giganto pearl earrings with me, I was trying really hard to leave behind the awkward pain of not being comfortable in my own skin. I found so much solace in gray days and quiet women and books and rain soaked gardens. I learned to love farmers markets and beans and lakes instead of beaches. My kids grew up thinking the sun was a novelty, maybe even a menace and their pale skin fit right in with their sweet friends.

But now, here we are.
With sand in my diaper bag. Loving the humidity that hugs me tight in the morning and the freckles dotting all of our faces.
Because I read somewhere that the painful yucky feeling when you're in a room full of people (smiling and shaking hands and wearing pastels), that feeling has more to do with the idol worship of people's approval and less to do with their smiling or their palmetto-shaped necklaces. And I was talking to some ladies this weekend about that horrible realization that your spouse's existence isn't to please you or serve you or meet your needs, but to glorify God. And what if He doesn't live up to your expectations, and worse yet - what if you've never lived up to your own? But somewhere in the rain, I learned to love the grace the held me up when I broke though all the expectations like a wooden chair that was way to small to hold my weight.

And now - because of what I learned in the rain, I love the sun.

I'm thrilled that when my kids are grown, they will say they're from Boston.
But I'll always be proud to say that I'm from the South.

giving up on good - MORIAH!

Hey, ladies! Jessi gave me permission to hack into her blog and guest post today while she's off on vacation with her darling family. If you don't know me already, my name is Moriah and I write over at Moriah Makes, a lifestyle blog about faith, family, and creative inspiration. I also run a lil' Etsy shop where I enjoy selling handmade goodies for mamas and their babies. Hop on over and say hello!

Since becoming a full-time stay-at-home-mom, I've tried and tried again to figure out how to become the mother in this picture:

Source: thevintagehousewife.blogspot.com via Glamorous on Pinterest

If I could meet the mother in this picture, I'd really love to ask her a few quick questions:

Hey, Lady! How in the world did you find time during the day, when you have little ones on opposite nap schedules that don't allow you a minute of alone time, to jump in the shower? 

After taking said shower, assuming that you shaved your legs and pits, shampooed and conditioned the snarls out of your hair, and lathered your entire body in scented lotion, how did you find the time to blow dry, curl your hair, apply makeup, and put on your sexy house-wife ensemble without your house being burnt to a crisp by your unattended children? 

After spending the majority of your afternoon making yourself look presentable for your husband's arrival home, how did you still have time to meal plan, cook an amazing gourmet meal for your family, using vegetables from your organic garden, and feel as though you spent some quality time with your babies rather than letting them hang out with Elmo all day? Or, did you? Is that how do it? Let Elmo babysit them?

If you're a frequent reader of my blog, you've heard me tackle this topic before. I've already given up on showers, dressing myself for the day, and even dressing my kids for the day, for something better. But, dinner? Dinner is now the hardest part of my day. And, for some reason, I've always felt guilty about not creating something exciting and appetizing for my hardworking husband to come home and enjoy with his family. 

I've stressed out about it, cried over it, and have sought so much advice to figure out how other moms make it happen. Moms: I've seen the pictures you post of your dinner. It looks amazing and I wish I could create the same thing from my kitchen. But, God has stepped in and has told me to give it up. 

So, I have. At least for now. And it feels so good! God's assured me that dinner isn't worth the stress and anxiety that has filled this house since having two little ones while learning how to balance life. The sweat that drips from my forehead between 4:30-5:30pm every evening is not worth it. The never-ending guilt of sticking my babies in front of the t.v. so Pinterest can teach me how to perfectly sauté a brussel sprout is not worth it. So, for now, while my babies are little and need my undivided, un-showered and unpresentable attention? Hubs gets a frozen vegetable, potato or rice, and meat. Because, I've given up on dinner for something better. 

And are you wondering what's better than a delicious, home cooked meal made with stress (because, I assure you, those meals I tried to create in the past weren't made with love)? A rested, relaxed, and happy home. Simple food for hungry tummies, but even more delicious smiles, hugs, and kisses being thrown around the dinner table, rather than a grumpy and distressed wife. And even an added bonus: greater appreciation for the few times I do make a delicious steak stir fry, a killer salad, or a hearty fettucini with homemade alfredo sauce.  Giving up on dinner has been the best decision I've made yet as a mom, wife, and daughter of God, and I think my husband and children would all agree.

“An unpeaceful mind cannot operate normally. Hence the Apostle teaches us to “have no anxiety [stress] about anything” (Phil. 4:6). Deliver all anxious thoughts to God as soon as they arise. Let the peace of God maintain your heart and mind (v. 7).” - Watchman Nee {source}

What good are you giving up for an opportunity to receive something better?

a guest post from Carly - a praying community

Hi, guys! My name is Carly and I blog over at Texas Lovebirds. My blog chronicles my life as a wife, a new momma, and a woman who tries to live be His grace daily. I write for therapy. I write to remember. I write to laugh. I write to relate. I write to connect. I write to inspire. I hope you will find one of those things when you visit my blog.
 

Today, Jessi is so kindly letting me guest post on something that has become something of a passion to me. I am so thankful that she sees my heart and is helping give me an avenue to share it. This post might be a little lengthy, but I hope you'll stick around and hear what I have to say. 

A month or two ago, I felt God really tugging on my heart about prayer. I felt Him pushing me to be more than the person who prays before meals, more than the person who prays each night before bed. I felt Him pushing me to truly pray for others when I say I will. I felt Him pushing me to carry other's burdens through prayer.

As I began to make changes in my personal prayer life, I felt God to continue to tug my prayer life in a direction I never imagined...toward blogging. I didn't know what to pray so I prayed that blogging wouldn't become an idol. I prayed that I wouldn't stress too much about it. I prayed that my little corner of the blogging world might be a light for someone, somewhere. And in the midst of this prayer, this question came to mind... 

I Why can't the blogging community become a praying community? I

I didn't really know what that meant or how to involve prayer in the blogging community, so I went back to praying about that question. My mind was consistently brought back to my college campus. I attended a private Christian university in Dallas and all over campus there were prayer boxes. In these boxes, anyone could leave a prayer request. You could be as specific or as vague as you want. You could be known or completely anonymous. Most importantly, leaving a request gave you the knowledge that someone was praying for you and your pains and struggles, your joys and triumphs. Those boxes got my wheels turning and I began to realize how helpful an online prayer box could be to many people.

After talking to a blogging friend, I decided to set up a Google Doc where people could leave these requests. The Google Doc form asks you three questions. In these questions you are able to share as much information as you wish.

The form recently launched on my page and can be found at the top of my blog under the tab titled "prayer." Once you've found the form, this is how things will work... 

1) Fill out the form with your prayer request. The information you leave is visible only to me.

2) Click "submit."

3) Know that there is someone praying for you! 

You can leave as many requests as you'd like, as often as you'd like. I just really hope that you'll head over to my blog and utilize this! I feel that it is an incredible opportunity for us to support each other. The Bible calls us to bear each other's burdens and I feel as if there is no better way to do this than through prayer. 

Please, help spread the word about this movement...the blogging community becoming a praying community. Tweet it, Facebook it, and post about it on your blog. This is starting small through prayer requests submitted to me but my mind is racing with ways to make this grow. Your support and your prayer will help this movement more than you know. 


So, let's get started...
Is there something weighing on your heart?
Is someone who is close to you really sick?
Have you just experienced a loss?
Is Satan filling your mind with toxic thoughts?
Are you struggling in a relationship?
Are you feeling hurt by someone?
Are you struggling to forgive someone?
Do you feel God tugging on you to make a change?
Are you celebrating a recent victory?
Are you thankful for all He has given you? 


I'd love to pray for you in any way that I can.

things we found in the fire

This post was originally posted on November 10, 2009.
It's always been one of my faves. 


I try to be careful when I’m writing. Especially blogs. I love to read about what others have learned and I love to be taught through words but I would despair if my words began to sound as if I’d been given authority to teach – since I haven’t. Outside of my sweet children, that is.

Anyhow, this season for us has been quite a fire. It’s been hot and hard and in my mind I’ve started to very easily refer to it as a fire. Is God putting out this fire? Is he fanning the flames for His Glory? As I prayed through these things – a phrase begin to roll around in my brain and at first it made me chuckle and then it made me glad, and now it makes me downright joyful. JOYFUL. Did you see the movie, “The things we lost in the fire”? I didn’t. It seemed super sad and too much for me to handle but in my head, I started referring to “the things we’ve FOUND in the fire”.

At first I thought these things were just for me, to keep going – to keep walking forward. To get on my hands and knees amidst the rubble and look for treasures. But, if my trial-and-error-slow-paced-learning and reflecting can be encouraging, I’d like to share these things I’ve found in the fire. Not teach or instruct, just humbly share. And for organization sake, we’ll make a little series out of it.

The first is simple and concise – probably known by all but me. And it is this – Doing the right thing when you don’t want to can be more profitable than you’ll ever know. Spiritually put – allowing the wisdom Christ has put in your heart to be turned into obedience at the right time, can be more profitable than you’ll ever know.

A few months ago, a friend shared this verse with me: The prudent sees danger and hides himself, but the simple go on and suffer for it. (prov 22:3) Unfortunately, I saw myself all over that description of a simple person. In life and specifically, in marriage, when I saw a hard time coming or I knew a day was already specifically rough – I could really clearly see two paths. One was to praise the Lord and walk forward in His grace. The other was to fear life, to fear man, and to take my pain out on any person in my path. In all honesty – the second option just felt good. To get bad news and blame someone felt like accomplishing something. When I become flustered with the kids, to go in my room and throw something released some tension. Even to outwardly bless my husband during a rough day and inwardly curse him seemed like a good choice because it gave me vindication and the appearance of godliness all in one. Complaining, focusing on my hurt, and sometimes ignoring life all together. Even sometimes, the seemingly neutral act of crying felt like a step forward and it felt good to express my fear or worry in that way.

But then maybe once, maybe twice after hearing this verse – I thought of the alternative. What if I didn’t scream or I didn’t cry or didn’t blame or complain. What if I took a moment to compose myself, closed my eyes and in my head screamed to Jesus, “I WANT TO TRUST YOU! HELP ME TO TRUST YOU!”. I found that it didn’t make me feel like a deflated balloon, without any power or will to keep living that day – but that when I would tell him very honestly what I was thinking – he would fill me for that minute with what I needed to keep going.

Then I tried it with the kids. Instead of yelling (or yelling on the inside with for a false sense of gentleness), I blinked hard a few times and asked the Lord to give me His eyes when I opened them again. Or with Nick, on a particularly discouraging day, when we were minutes from screaming at one another and slamming doors – we’d sit and hold hands and just talk to the Lord. What I saw when it dawned on me to look, was little pieces of fruit popping up around our house and marriage. We were still in the fire, but we could laugh and love and praise Jesus together rather than ripping one another apart.

I feel like such a high school bible study leader, but the fact is simple: it’s much easier to do the right thing on easy days than it is to do them on hard days. When life feels manageable and settled, do you know how easy it is to choose to pray? To praise? To teach grace and peace to your babes? But when you actually feel like your world is kind of crumbling and you feel like a failure and you’re not totally sure where your food will come from next week – it is immensely difficult. It’s much easier to yell, or cry, or plan but what we had to do was praise. To bless. To pray. And when we lifted our heads and said, “amen” – the answer wasn’t always there – but a little tiny piece of fruit was.

And now, when this fire is truly over – I have two good gifts given by father. A) The word of my testimony. To be able to say, “this is what it was like and this is what He is always like for us”. To say, when we praised Him, it felt like what we were supposed to do and we should praise Him because He is always good. And B)a comparison. If I can praise the Lord in the fire, I can praise Him when I get cut off while driving or when someone hurts my feelings or when a kid smears poop all over my sofa for fun. I can praise Him, always.

More to come.