Stumbling Around in The Light

Unremarkable Me

I've spent years striving to be remarkable.

Ever grasping for brightness, for that always-out-of-reach glow.
Not just another dancer; I wanted more than corps-de-ballet.
Didn't settle for singing in the choir; I had to become the soloist.

English class? Nothing but straight A's & top honors.
Poetry contest? I'll win that scholarship, thank-you-very-much.
Stage productions? A leading role, or I'll move on to another company!

My marriage had to be fairy-tale bliss; my children the picture of perfection & delight. 
Gotta stay fit & trim,
keep the house tidy,
impress the in-laws,
please the friends: 
keep working, working,
working to be,
remarkable me!

Wholly crap, people.  I'm exhausted.

And I've finally figured out what you've known all along...

I'm ordinary.

Unremarkable.

So much wasted time & energy, trying to shine, trying to be so special, so radiant. But the real me? All by myself?  I'm kinda dull & weary.  Crabby, controlling, critical.

Ironically, most of my works are faith-related. 
To be a godly wife, a devoted mother, above-rubies and all that.
The Proverbs 31 woman, y'know? 
Okay, except without the up-at-dawn part.  But even there, we all feel a little guilty for it, don't we?  Sleeping in?  Not getting up to knit socks & make five-course breakfasts before the sun rises?  I mean, seriously, who can measure up???

What a relief to discover I don't have to. I never will.

God didn't create me to be perfect, only to be perfected.

What a relief to discover I'm not supposed to be remarkable after all.  Ordinary is just the place He wants me to be:

Clearing breakfast dishes with a toddler on my hip.
Endlessly picking up Legos from the living room floor.
Driving my daughter to & from youth group.
Laughing at the antics of my boys on the trampoline.
Scowling & scolding when it turns into a wrestling match.
Bending, cleaning, reaching, cooking, holding, fussing, loving.

Nothing remarkable about it.

And yet...
Everything remarkable about it.

The remarkable of what God has done.

With ordinary me, He has brought forth this home of laughter & struggle & heartbreak & repentance & forgiveness & love, so much Love.
Through ordinary me, He birthed these 7 amazing children; filled with imperfections & beauty & fun & frustration & redemption & love, so much Love.
Despite ordinary me, He grows a marriage, from roots of control & fear, to branches of commitment, and blossoms of hope & humility & vulnerability & courage & love, so much Love.

I've not been created for perfection, only for perfecting.

How strange that I've spent years striving to be remarkable for God.
So backwards!
He is the only remarkable in me. 

Ordinary, unremarkable me.

Oh, but with Jesus in me!
With letting go,
trusting; unafraid
I may begin to see
the ordinary, unremarkable in me
is really something special after all.

"...so they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and have our being..."

 

Linking up with Lisa-Jo and Five-Minute-Friday.
And just for the record...I always cheat. The basic writing might take 5 minutes, but yeah, I go back & edit & add links & all that jazz.  Still tryin' too hard to be remarkable, I know.  So c'mon, cut me some slack. I'm in recovery, 'kay???

Sometimes You Just Gotta Celebrate

It's Wednesday afternoon.

Time to celebrate.

Cause Wednesdays are hard, y'know?
Okay, well maybe not as hard as Mondays...but tough anyway.  And when we make it through the chores & classes & agenda & work, we could use a little celebration.

Fall is consistently a challenging season for me. 
(Ahem. Yeah, my husband would tell you that's putting it lightly.)  After the long, lazy days of glorious Colorado summer...home schooling & part-time classes & cross-country & choir concerts & chauffeuring-everyone-all-over-the-country pretty much stinks.  There are days in September when I'd just as soon get a root-canal with a chainsaw than get out of bed and face groundhog-day all over again.

By the time we hit November I'm kinda figuring things out.  Coming up with new ways to juggle kids' schedules, settling into routines with home school lessons & naps for little ones.  And learning that a mid-week celebration is a far better way to cope than wishing I could crack open a bottle of Olathe Winery's sweet red Pinolem on Thursday morning.

Sometimes you just gotta celebrate.

And maybe we don't actually need anything special to celebrate: cause really, can't life itself be reason enough?

So Wednesday evening we light candles, and play Ronnie Freeman on the stereo.  Kevin puts fish on the grill, while I whip the mashed potatoes.  Dinner's later than usual, 'cause its bigger than usual...and we all sit down in the warming glow of oil-lamps & firelight.

Laughter & conversation spills across the dining table, and Kevin & I clink our wine glasses together, "to home; to us!"  Little ones are cranky-sleepy by the time we finish, and the big kids clean up while we head the boys & little peeps to bed. 

By the time we're back downstairs, Uno or BananaGrams or Scribblish is on the table, and someone is poking around the pantry for chocolate.  'Cause seriously, what's a celebration without chocolate, right?

It's not some huge deal, and we don't have to do anything fancy...but for whatever-silly-reason, we're all starting to smile a little more on Wednesday mornings. 

I'm sure there's a pretty darn good reason why God ordered up seven massive celebrations per year for the Israelites!  He knows how bogged down we get in the doldrums of dailyness.  Our hearts long for celebration.

So, my weary friends...aren't you in need of something to celebrate?

Well, shoot - whaddya know, it's Wednesday. 
You made it thru Monday and Tuesday, you rock-star, you!

Time to celebrate!

Shiny Rocks

I love water.

I mean, I really, really love water.

I love water in creeks, I love water in pools, I love water in lakes, I love water in bathtubs, I love water in rivers, I love water in the ocean...
I love drinking a ton of water, I love long showers in hot water, I love clean, refreshing, life-giving water. Hot, cold, salty, soapy, chlorinated, carbonated, bottled, whatever.  In most any form, I love water.

So I'm at this retreat last week, which just happens to be a mile up the road from Mt. Princeton Hot Springs Pool...
Are you kidding me? score!

There I am, with a bunch of my dearest friends, listening to speaker Karin Blythe, digging into the story of the woman-at-the-well discovering Living Water.  And then we spent half the day in the water.  Heavenly!

So if you've never been to a natural hot-springs pool, I'm tellin' you, it is one of God's most astounding, incredible creations.  At Mt. Princeton Hot Springs you can go down to the river and sorta make your own little hot-tub, by moving rocks around to let in just the right mix of hot & cold water.

Up above, there's a naturally-heated lap-pool.  Halfway immersed in deliciously warm water, back-stroking my way across...looking up at the pristine, azure-blue Colorado mountain sky...and my soul wants to burst with peace and freedom and gratitude.

Later, we're sitting down below, in this natural, bubbling-up-with-heat river-pool, talking & laughing & soaking in the healing powers of mineral-rich waters.  I trail my fingers through the smooth bed of river-rocks, absent-mindedly pulling out bright stones.  I stack them beside me on a boulder, where they dry quickly in the afternoon sun.

My fingertips find a smoothly-rounded stone, rolled & refined & shaped into a sweet, fat heart.  I pluck it from the water. It's a deep, rich green; shiny & shot thru with golden-threads of iron-pyrite. I set it alongside my little stash of rocks.

Within minutes, my shiny-green heart is dry...dull, pale. 
Unremarkable.  Colorless.  Grey and lifeless without the drenching of water.

Oh.

Oh! I see...

How my heart becomes colorless, dull, lifeless without the constant drenching of Living Water.  And it happens so quickly!  A few days, a week...the busy-ness of life convincing me I don't have time for soaking in God's Presence, for absorbing the Living Word.

The rock sits pale & chalky in my palm.  A quick dip into the fast flowing river, and it emerges vibrant, lush-green, sparkling-gold.

The other girls laugh & scoff at my sentimentality, but I tuck the rock into my bag when we leave. 

That I might not forget.

I love shiny rocks.

And I love water.

Once Again - More Giving; Fewer Gifts

The following is a re-post from last year at this time...
and now in 2011, we find ourselves with even more focus on giving as unto Christ, instead of giving unto ourselves.  This is my current favorite gift-shopping catalog:
http://www.compassion.com/catalog/how-it-works.htm
just in case you're wondering what's on my wish list!

Seems like every Christmas we scale back a little more, a little more...

You'd think our older children would complain.  But really?  Our big kids are the strongest supporters for the idea of simplifying Christmas. 

I don't have any 5-step plan for helping your kids to make that transition, but I do know that being somewhat disconnected from commercialism, media, and peer pressure makes a big difference.  Okay, that's putting it mildly.  We've not had TV for going on 8 years.  And the kids are home schooled, so they just don't pick up on the consumerist fascination with all the newest ipads, ipods, and iphones.  (And seriously, doesn't that stuff give you the creeps just a little bit???  Every new gadget is preceded by the word "I" - surreptitiously disguised in lower-case - so we don't notice our culture's overinflated, self-infatuated, indulgent obsession with SELF.  Hey, I'm as obsessed with myself as the next girl..but sure don't want a series of "I" gizmos to remind me all the time!)

ANYway...the 'fewer gifts' part has come gradually.  Adding another baby every couple of years sorta contributed to the process.  'Cause it's one thing to have 2 or 3 gifts for three children...but something else entirely to do that for five...or six...or seven children.  And a couple of years ago, we realized the older children were trying to come up with cheap knick-knacks for the younger siblings, just to have another wrapped box under the tree.  It was ridiculous, 'cause seriously, a 3 yr-old is just overwhelmed with seven gifts to unwrap, and does she really need yet another Rescue Hero???



We started last year with having the children 'trade names' between each other, so that each one gives a gift to one sibling.  The big kids have so much fun hunting for that special treasure, and we help the little ones get a special present for their older sibling.  Then each child also gets one gift from Mommy & Daddy.  So two presents to open on Christmas morning.

Sounds sparse?  Well, this is what we've come to realize:
In our western culture, Christmas morning anticipation is all about the excitement of getting gifts.  What did I get?  What else?  Did I get everything on my list?  Is that all?

Yuck.

Christmas morning anticipation should be about the excitement of togetherness, slowing down, receiving the free gift of Jesus Christ, our Emmanuel.
 
My 10 yr-old, Eliza, is reading a "Little House in the Prairie" series.  With wonder, she's read aloud sections where the storybook children are above-all overjoyed to simply have family & friends with them on Christmas day - to get a piece of fruit and one candy stick in their stocking - where gifts are a homemade doll or wagon or pop gun.  They needed so much, and yet were satisfied with so little.

While we who have so much always clamor for more, and yet are satisfied with nothing.

I have so much.  More than I need; every week passing along another bag of hand-me-downs to goodwill.  I am obesely wealthy, grotesquely abundant.  And yet I want more.  A new hair dryer.  My favorite honeysuckle lotion and Eucalyptus-Spearmint Pillow Mist from 'Bath & Body Works.'  A pair of jeans from someplace other than Goodwill.  New rugs & towels for the guest bath.  Snow tires for the suburban, a brake job, a tune-up for the jeep.  Railing on the back deck, covered porch on the front, carport at the side entrance.  I need those things.  Don't I?

It's repulsive. 
There is nothing, nothing I need.
Every day, every week, every month, all my needs are met in Him.

"He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?"  - Romans 8:32   

I know this, and still, it is hard to live my faith.  At Christmas, when we so easily say "it is more blessed to give than to receive" - it is so hard to really give.  Really give.  What is truly from the Spirit, of the heart, pouring out of a place of love & joy instead of duty & guilt.

Because who on your Christmas list really needs anything?  Not my sister.  Not my in-laws.  Nor my parents, or friends.  They are all as obesely, overflowingly abundant as we are.

Yet - There are those who need my true giving.  Our neighbors, who need a simple gift of homemade bread, a note of appreciation & encouragement.  My brother, who needs my continued reaching out with humility and reconciliation.  The woman at church with a troubled son, who needs my time & attention & hugs, and is longing for a cross collection to brighten her meager home.  Family across the miles, who ache with missing grandbabies, who rejoice over pictures & crafts & phone calls from 4-yr-olds.  Our  Compassion daughter, Nancy, in Tanzania, who writes that she was so happy to receive our letter, that she 'feasted' on beans at her auntie's house.

And my own children.  They don't need more gifts, they need more giving - of my time, patience, love, affection, down-time, delight.  When I have to press for ideas on a 'wish list' (isn't that the repulsively-self-indulgent traditional Santa-focused question for American kids?  "what do you want for Christmas???"), I know that my kids don't need or even want another present.  Not as much as they want my presence. 

The excitement of our Christmas morning should be for the onset of uninterrupted days of games & talking & laughing, our final Advent celebration of His Arrival, building a new popsicle-stick-village, hiking thru the snow-covered-lacey-bare Aspens to 'Quartz Hill', crowding into the kitchen to make Jesus' birthday cake, bowling with baseballs & empty 2-liter-bottles in the upstairs hallway.  Togetherness.  Loving one another.



"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." -John 13:34

So this year, we've tried to focus on more giving, but fewer gifts. 
Not as many presents, but more presence. Our presence, for one another - and His presence, in our home, centering our celebration.

It's a work in progress.  Haven't 'arrived' by any stretch of the imagination.  We're enormously inspired by Ann Voskamp's post here: 
http://www.aholyexperience.com/2010/11/christmas-its-just-deciding-whose-birthday-it-really-is/

Next Christmas will be another step in our pursuit of His Presence, as we continue to diminish the pursuit of wrapped presents.

More giving; fewer gifts.

-----------------------------------------

Are you re-thinking the traditional materialistic holiday for 2011?  Got any ideas to share?  Please?  We need all the help we can get!

Grateful For My Beloved

He circled the busy city block, looking for a flat place to park.  The parking brake was out; just one of many quirks on his rust-colored ‘AMC Spirit.’  I didn’t mind tho.  A chance to see Chicago made the rattletrap drive worthwhile. 

I was tasting risk and spontaneity for the first time in my life, and the spice of it was soul-warming, igniting a God-placed ember within my heart.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into...

The miles had flown by, as we talked & laughed & got to know one another.  I'd brought along my cassette tape of ‘Indigo Girls’ and he had ‘James Taylor’s Greatest Hits.’  I sang every word of angst-filled ballads, “Closer to Fine” and “Love’s Recovery;” he serenaded me along with James, “Something In The Way She Moves.”

And now we shyly held hands, crammed in a tiny elevator, riding to the top floor of the Sears Tower.  The view was spectacular, as daylight gave way to a sunset-streaked autumn evening.  City lights twinkled far below us, and I rushed from one side of the building to the next, drinking in the infamous Chicago-sky-line from a dizzyingly-high perspective.

That’s when it happened.  I simply glanced back at him from across the room, and something inexplicably powerful, undeniably eternity-fueled, burst into flame within me.  I couldn’t explain it, or understand it, or begin to put it into words.  I stood there for a moment, heart pounding.  Then rushed across to Kevin, gripped his arms, and looked up into his ever-sincere green-blue eyes; “I like you! I really like you!”

It was chilly and raining by the time we left.  Kevin was mortified when his car wouldn’t start…but I just laughed & shrugged, soaked & shivering, eager to embrace a new life of adventure.

I had no idea….

This morning, 19 years later, Kevin and I drive out of Chicago, rain soaked and smiling.  I cradle an enormous bouquet of red roses, and Kevin squeezes my hand.  He slips ‘Indigo Girls’ into the stereo, and I sing again, with new understanding, the enduring-love-story song of  “Love’s Recovery.”  Heading home to the mountains of Colorado; driving a shiny-pewter-gray, all-wheel-drive, room-enough-for-our-seven-kids, passenger-van.   (Used, but new to us, a fabulous price, and exactly what we’ve been hunting for months!) 

Nineteen years of adventure, miles and miles, thru uncharted paths, deserts, wilderness, storms…and breathtaking vistas beyond all my girlish dreams.

I had no idea.

Thanksgiving 19 years ago?  I was grateful for my fine-lookin’ new boyfriend.  Here was a guy like no one I’d ever met:  spontaneous, unabashedly honest & sincere, funny & fun, deep-thinking & inquisitive, a visionary dreamer, seeking God’s truth with a fervor I had only dreamed of finding.  He was a professional cyclist, world-traveler, toting all his earthly possessions in two road-weary duffel bags.  He brought me love and passion, hunger for life and truth, hope for something bigger than my fear-cramped dreams.

This Thanksgiving?  I’m grateful for my beloved.  He is a man like I’ve never encountered: spontaneous, unabashedly honest & sincere, funny & fun, deep-thinking & inquisitive, a visionary dreamer, seeking God’s truth with an enduring fervor that still amazes me.  The days of professional-cycling are behind him, but he still rides, mostly to clear his head and keep those fine-lookin’ legs buff & strong.  With seven children, he probably won’t be a world-traveler again, except during bedtime stories and geography lessons.  We still have those duffel bags, tho…! 

Kevin has brought me love and passion, life filled-to-overflowing with children & friends & mountains & abundance that constantly surprises me.  

Kevin has brought me to truth; hard-won and painfully learned, thru tears, smashed plates, accusations, and apologies, knit together with faith in God, and a magnetic longing for one another we’ve never been able to deny.  At 42, I’m finally learning to walk worthy of my calling, in hope, for God-nourished dreams, throwing off the fear-monkey on my back.

This thanksgiving - filled with ongoing thousand-gifts - I'm most-thankful for the greatest gift-from-God in my life.

Grateful for my beloved.

"I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine..."  Song of Solomon 6:3

Wednesday Reminisce: Fall 2010

I spent some time the past few days clicking around on my own blog...

Reminiscing.

How fun to discover I've got a family-journal history going here; stories & anecdotes & wisdom-gleaned, archived here in cyber-space.  As I scroll thru these screens, filled with pictures of my family, words of tribulation and triumph, I'm reminded that God is with us, all the time, even and especially in the painful circumstances. It's good to remember.

Reminiscing feels like an exercise in building alters-of-praise,
stacking stones-of-remembrance.

God has led me through tough paths...God is leading me onto new eye-opening trails...God will continue leading me, whatever vistas or obstacles come my way. 

And this I need to remember:  God was, God is, God will be.

So I'm gonna start a new thing - of taking a day each week to reminisce about God's ever-present-help in my life, about His blessings, about the tough gifts-of-refining He has given me.  (yeah, yeah... I'm bein' a copycat - most every other blogger out there is doin' the same thing.  I just now GOT IT, tho, y'know???)

Here we go...

Remembering Canyon, last fall, watching me:
"Watching Mommy"

One I need to read again & again - God reminding me to rest in Him:
"In His Updraft"

Again the Holy Spirit repeating the message, to simply 'be':
"Wisdom The Hard Way"

Finally, reminiscing about Nekoda last fall, and remembering to relish the now:
"Adventure Envy"

Got any great memories from last fall?  Was it a tough time you're glad to have behind you?  Do you see evidence of God's leading you through?  (I know, so many questions...but c'mon, tell me about it, wouldja?)

Maybe I've Got Talent After All

I never seem to have enough time to get done the things I need to get done so I can just be done, and then move on to the endless list of things I wanna get done....

Okay, that sounds like crazy-talk. I know.
But c'mon. Don't you ever feel that way?

The urgent to-do list eclipses the really-important, heart-priority to-do list.

Time-management is a talent I definitely missed.
Of course the wisened counselors in my life (you know, the ones without 14 extra feet underfoot), would say that I'm just not really prioritizing my true priorities.

Yeah, whatever.
I've discovered I'm not so talented in the priority-setting area. But I'm loaded with skill in the way of puttin'-out-fires!  Some days I'm lucky to find the time for a shower, in between all the fire-puttin-out. Then there are days when I'm still in my stinky running shorts at dinnertime (who me?)...   But every now-and-again, I have a day when I'm talented enough to actually get up before the children for prayer-time, and am amazed to find myself clean & fresh & dressed for the day before breakfast. (I know - wow, right?) 

The really crazy thing is, I know of domestically-talented moms of big families who always get up at dawn to pray & then slip into their skirts & headcoverings & make big breakfasts, and still smile & kiss hubby, and find this truly incredible joy in it all.  Somehow I just didn't get that early-riser-hospitality-domestic-goddess talent.

And really? That's okay. 
I've gotta stop wishing for the talents I didn't get - and embracing the ones He gives me.

So - despite the fact that I recorded this little video blog something like three weeks ago - I'm posting my second attempt at saving-typing-time-by-story-telling-it-instead.

'Cause maybe I've got talent after all.

 

What bag-of-talents have you been given? 
What are some ways you're re-investing those talents?

Linking up with Jen at Soli Deo Gloria

And linking up with Michelle at Graceful

On Asking

So I've been wanting to post this one for awhile, and needed to do edits & such on the video...one of those unfinished projects...

But the reality is, I'll NEVER get around to making it just right - so instead, I'm gonna throw it out there unedited, and move on.  Don't ruin good with perfect, right???

God has been speaking to me about asking. 
About how hard it is to do. 
About what a gift it is to be asked...and what a gift there is in the blessing of giving.

Instead of typewritten words - I've done a video blog. Only about five minutes - which means I saved myself something like 90 minutes of writing, re-writing, typing, editing...whew.  If this goes over even remotely well, it might just be the new thing!

Here goes:

 

So whaddya think?  Would you rather just read it?  Was the sound quality lamo?

And content-wise...how's ASKing going for you?

Unfinished Projects

I've got alotta unfinished projects in my life.

I've been meaning to finish the deck stain, every day this week.

I'm almost done, y'know. But...not quite.

And that order for Ian's glasses? Right online here on a tab...somewhere...but I haven't finished the measurements quite yet, so, well...I'll get it done in the morning.  Oh, and I'll need to finish switching all that business phone billing tomorrow too.  Dang, I can't forget to do that thank-you note for my neighbor...

Everywhere I look: unfinished projects.

We started the trim last year, but golly, it's really time-consuming for Kevin to mill the Aspen wood, and things have been so busy, and well, then there is the driveway work.  Gonna need several loads of rock & roadbase to get it completed, but that's some big bucks, so, we'll see...

Last summer I started running again. I was gonna work up to 5k distance, and run the local 'Mayor's Cup' race.  Been working on losing those 15 pounds of baby-weight for, hmmm, a year now, I guess.  I've worked off a few; maybe 10 more to go.  But, well - it's hard to make running & exercise a priority, when I'm juggling everything else, so....

And good grief, don't even get me started on the landscaping...or lack thereof...

Do ya' feel my pain?  Seriously?  Am I the only one who has something like 27 different projects up in the air at any given time?

There are days, when I just wanna give up and never get outta bed. Then there are days when I launch myself into fifty different things, like Superwoman-Elastagirl on steroids, and work myself into a frustrated frenzy.  Neither extreme is workin' for me, y'know.

So my artist friend Adina says to me -
"Well, Teri, isn't that what our life in Christ is all about?
Aren't we all just unfinished projects?"

Oh.
Yeah.

Maybe I don't need to be so depressed about that which is left undone...or frantically strive to arrive at some perfect completion.

Perhaps the place of contentment resides somewhere between frenetic action and frustrated apathy.

What if contentment is as simple as doing my best,
finding gratitude in the mid-project-progress,
trusting The Builder to bring the project to purposed-completion,
in His timing, according to His standards?

The more I think about it, the more I figure some of these unfinished projects might just be the best thing I've got going...

Got any unfinished projects? How do you find peace amidst the work-in-progress?

Practice Makes...More Practice

I'm learning to get on my face in prayer.

It's a positional thing: on my knees, back curved, face to the ground, small. 
And it's a heart thing: submitted, humbled, grateful, trusting.

Sounds all holy & pious, but the truth is, my back hurts.  I'm so not kidding.  My lower back has been killing me.  'Cause praying on my knees, bent over in a posture of submissive trust, is working a whole slew of 41-years-flabby muscles.  And these prayer-muscles are gonna need some serious practice to get in shape.

Webster defines 'practice' as "repeated action for gaining skill."  Which pretty much sums up life...and prayer...and the whole blogging thing, too.  I mean, if you're blogging, you're probably practicing writing, or photography, or speaking, (or something), in hopes of gaining skill to eventually get published, or produced, or just turn the words into actual income-producing-potential. 

So the whole practice-thing means I sure don't have this skill mastered, right?  It means I'm still learning, still unfinished, still stumbling around trying to find balance between vulnerability and truth and not making an absolute donkey of myself.  Are you following? 

Therefore, patient reader...ummm...can we just pass off that last post as...ahem... a pooped-out practice session?  (No, I'm not linking to it, 'cause, duh, I don't want you to go back & read the flailing, guilt-laden, over-tired words posted there, 'kay?)  Just trust me, it was awkward; "lame on so many levels," as my usually-encouraging, but sometimes brutally-honest husband tells me.

The thing I'm realizing is, I've gotta practice all these spiritual gifts I'm longing for.  I think of myself as this generally grateful, optimistic person...but then, come-to-find-out, I'm pretty lame at the whole practice of gratitude.  I definitely need to work out my thankful-muscles. 

Which brings me back to putting my ingrate-face to the ground in prayer.

-------------------------

Side Note:
For the last eight years I've been hugely blessed to be a part of this incredible group of people called the 'Creative Arts Team.'  We're just a small group of moderately normal (okay, maybe not-so-normal) people who happen to have a weird bent for all kinds of creative ideas.  As in artsy-fartsy artists & sculptors, singers & musicians, dancers & actors, wide-lens-visionaries, dreamers, and rule-breakers, every one of us.  That whole 'outta-the-box' phrase you've heard?  Well, a couple of these folks are so far outta the box they're in, like, an alternate universe.  Which is so, so stinkin' cool to be a part of.

Anyway.  This group has the scary & fabulous job of helping our worship pastor, Todd, brainstorm & create all kinds of outta-the-box worship experiences.  We get to pour our hearts into a 'Creative Service' about once a quarter.  Which means we dig into scripture, pray, dream, analyze, press in to the Holy Spirit for inspiration...on one subject, for several weeks in a row.  It is Church, just the process, in itself. 

Life transforming. 
Heart healing. 
Soul sifting.

-------------------------

Several weeks ago we did a 'Creative Service' that culminated in getting the entire church body on their knees, praying, worshiping, bowing in humble gratitude before our mighty Creator-God.  And God showed up, softly-speaking, tender-leading, drawing me into the positional practice & heart practice of getting on my face in prayer.

He showed me how to bend the knees, and I'll never be the same.
Make me small, Lord, that Your Greatness would shine through.

What I'm learning, above-&-beyond getting my stinkin' proud face into a position of dirt-on-the-forehead humility, is that seeking Him takes practice.

'Cause maybe you pray on your knees all the time, but me? I tend to pray on-the-fly; when I'm brushing my teeth, and in the shower, driving the kids 'round town, taking the stairs two-at-a-time on my way to break up some sibling squabble...  Sure, there are the morning devotion prayers, and the mealtime blessings, and bedtime prayers.  But really, really focusing my heart on worship and gratitude and confession and communion with my Abba?  Wasn't happening much.

So it takes practice.  And training these new prayer-muscles is painful.  It's been weeks, and still, I practice.  How do I learn to be humble?  I practice the position of humility.  How do I learn gratitude?  I practice the dutiful art of expressing thanks.  How do I learn to trust?  I practice letting go.  And I practice.  And practice. And practice...

"And let us not grow weary in well doing..." - Galations 6:9

Anything you need to practice on?  Got any practice-muscles sore from obeying His Call? 

 

The Father's Day Post

Seventeen years ago I gave him a Father's Day present I'll never be able to top.

His firstborn,

A son;

Our miracle Caleb.

In the excitement and bleary-eyed chaos of leaving the hospital, I remember lamenting, "Oh no, I don't have anything for you, for your first Father's Day..."  Kevin whipped around, with the flush-faced smile of exhaustion, gratitude, & wonder, every new Daddy wears, and reminded me:

"I'm a Daddy! You gave me a son!"

My beloved didn't get celebrated that first Father's Day, seventeen years ago.  He didn't sleep in, no one brought him breakfast in bed, there were no packages to unwrap.  Well, except for those newborn poopy diapers...

But yeah, it was the Father's Day gift of all time, borne out of 13 hours of back labor, no less.  The most excruciating one of the bunch.  (Tho the fourth was a close second...)

That baby is 16 years grown now; standing tall, deep-voiced, a man.  There are moments when he laughs, I can still see the little boy he used to be.  But for the most part, I see the man he is becoming.

And honestly? If I'm not striving to type all those sentimental, mushy-gushy words of mama-love...it makes me feel old.  I do still have a baby on the hip, and a slew of other kiddos in between, so that helps.  But really, to see my husband & son laughing, jostling for keys, checking out the stereo on Caleb's new-used, first-car Jeep Cherokee...I think, "how did I get here? am I really old enough to have a kid who drives?"

In all these years, with all these kids, through the rough times & good times - Kevin has always been the most amazing Daddy.  Despite seasons of 'you can sleep on the couch for the rest of your life for all I care' - when I walked dark days of plotting ways to leave - the one truth I couldn't deny, was his extraordinary daddy-heart.  

So this weekend, I celebrate my firstborn, somehow already turning sixteen, and my beloved, my Kevin, extraordinary Daddy to our seven children. 

---------------------------------

And now the really, truly, naked-soul truth?  Its late, as in almost tomorrow, on Father's Day, and I'm writing this 'cause I feel guilty for not writing some deeply moving post for my oldest's 16th...and 'cause everyone else posted these lovely, moving tributes to their husbands or dads....  So I'm compelled to type up something to honor my husband, my son, my dad, my father-in-law.  And yet when I read the words above, they seem like so much drivel, forced & pathetically uninspired.

I think I'll call it what it is:  a Duty Post.  Which seems so redonkulus, 'cause I truly AM kinda freakin' out that my oldest is now driving, and really DO utterly adore my husband's daddy-heart, and I'm SO thankful to be able to celebrate my dad & father-in-law.

Okay, whatever. I'm getting dangerously close to midnight, and if I don't get this posted my 11:50pm I won't even make the Father's Day weekend cutoff...and somehow this duty-gratitude-guilt-performance-expectation thing is just gonna circle around endlessly...

So I probably should shut-my-finger-tappin-trap, and just say this:

Happy Father's Day.

And Happy Birthday, Caleb.

I love all a' you men in my life.

Even if writing about it, amidst the reality of fullness-of-life, sometimes (sorry), feels shamefully like duty.

Am I the only loser who struggles to find all those poetically pithy words to express the heart?  Anyone you need to just say, 'I love you' to?

Sunshine Giddiness

Summertime...and the livin' is easy...

Can we give a collective leap of joy???

DONE with crazy-busy schedules, done with home school lessons, done with winter.  I know, I should be talking about the segue from Spring, but seriously, just over a week ago, it was SNOWING.

So we missed Spring completely; so what.  Living above 9000 feet in elevation, in the mountains of Colorado, sometimes April and May get lost amidst mud and sleet and graupel and snow-on-dandelions-insanity.  But that's okay.  The other 10 months of the year are stellar.  And a Colorado, high-mountain summer?  Girl, you haven't really lived until you've experienced the sunshine giddiness of June, July, & August in the Rocky Mountains!!

Started the summer with a visit from our dear friend Ronnie Freeman.  We used to be neighbors with Ronnie & Leslie, when we lived in an old farmhouse in Franklin, TN...and God has divinely grown our friendship over the years.  Such a treasure to reconnect with him, hear about his new musical projects, and just laugh together as if not a day had passed since we last shared a cup of coffee. 

Oh.  And.  You will be missing a great-big-enormous blessing if you don't take a minute to go check out his new music - Perfect Love, available now on itunes, or thru Ronnie's online store.

Have spent the past week filled-to-the-brim with....ummm...nuthin'!  Playing outside, jumping on the trampoline, hiking, talking, visiting with friends.  All the joys of summertime...ahhh...

Now we're packing up for a mini-vacation in Estes Park with my sister Tami & her husband Bob, their seven kiddos, and my Mom.  Yes, you counted right, that's fourteen children altogether.  Three solid days of cousining, hiking, rafting, horseback riding; fun, fun, fun!!!  Oh - and I got the deal of the century:  she is paying for the 'cabin' (a gorgeous, 5k+ sq foot lodge), and I'm providing all the meals.  Works out great, 'cause I really like to cook, and knowing the price of the lodge...ahem...I oughta be servin' some seriously gourmet meals!!

Anyway - we're super excited to be heading out for a road-trip in the 'mo-home' (our 1986, ain't-we-white-trash, Chevy Champion Telstar) and the first of our summer adventures. 

Something about the soul-warming sunshine and the time to enjoy it draws my heart to holy gratitude.  I know God is there, even there, amidst the muddy season.  I know that.  But here, under this azure blue sky?  I can almost reach out and touch Him!!

"Be glad in the Lord and rejoice you righteous ones, and shout for joy..."       -- Psalm 32:11

I
love
summer.

Just sayin'.

So, what fun plans do you have for the summer???  C'mon, share a bit of sunshine giddiness with me...

To Not Be Such A Fool

A fool tells what he will do, a boaster tells what he has done, a wise man does it and says nothing.   (from Ye Olde Flip Calendar, May 18th - no source)

I like to brag.

But, c'mon, who doesn't?

Isn't sneaky boasting alot of this whole blogging thing?  I write some pithy post about Easter, and just happen to throw in a few tidbits about our ever-so-holy Passover meal.  Or we share an encouraging home school story, and include pictures of beautifully organized books, studious children, extravagant science projects.

Yeah, whatever.  A fool and a boaster am I.

Truth is, during that ever-so-holy Passover meal, I totally lost my cool with our 2-year-old about every 10 seconds, and entertained thoughts of offering her as the sacrificial lamb.  And the little boys whined about the horseradish, the parsley, and the 'weird cracker' the entire time.

And home schooling?  It is so not a pretty picture.  Our books are never organized, the house is almost always a wreck, I'm perpetually weeks behind in grading & recording the older kids' work, and most days I wish we could hire a private tutor to come in and teach phonics, math, science, history...okay, well, everything.

There are so many things to be thankful for; my cup runneth over.

And over. and over. and over.

With all this fuel for gratitude, why do I spend most of my time utterly overwhelmed?

Is this it, Lord?  Is this what it means to be a mommy, and a wife, and a friend, and daughter, and sister, and...and...
'Cause it just all seems like too much; I can't ever catch up, Lord.  I just. can't. keep. up.

I look back on my blog posts & think, "dang, I'm such a whiner."

But then again, maybe I'm just sayin' what we're all feeling, but too afraid to admit, to say out loud, to bring into the light.

My life is unmanageable.
I need help.

I
Need
Help.

When I'm finally able to quit my boasting, and admit the reality of this mess of my life...
then...
then I can open my eyes & ears & soul to receive the help I so desperately need.

From soul-sister friends in my Tuesday morning girls-group, from cyber-sisters with sharing hearts, from fellow bloggers offering words of wisdom & truth & laughter & comfort & encouragement, from the well-loved words of books like Jesus Calling and One Thousand Gifts. 

And in the quiet, still moments, God speaks; convicting, comforting, inviting, instructing.  James whispers in the back of my mind, "faith without works is dead," and so I wipe my eyes, and blow my schnoz, and go do what I need to do, and be who I need to be, and put my faith into action.

So if you hear me boasting here?  Just point me back to this post, 'kay? 
'Cause no kidding, my life is a shambles.  I need some pie.

Oh.  And I seriously need help. and wisdom. and instruction.

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; but fools despise wisdom and instruction."  - Proverbs 1:7

Lord, let me not be such a fool!

Boast much?  Oh, c'mon, admit it...we all do...

 

Winter Reruns

Mid-May and it's snowing.

Sometimes it's way past time for Spring, but there it falls, snowflake by snowflake:
Winter Reruns.

Just last weekend we got a taste of summer; a sliver of sunburning, sunshine-summertime heat.  After so many months of cold, the beating sun and throw-the-windows-open warmth feels like new life, new hope.

Yet for now,
It snows.  The ground is blanketed in a half-foot of damp, clumping, perfect-for-snowballing, white, white, white.  The sky is gray, for the second day.

Doesn't life hit you like that sometimes?  Just on the verge of Spring, and then comes outta-the-blue, Winter Reruns. 
I'm goin' along, everything's copacetic (great word, Kevin), and with the fierceness of one swift wind, the world goes cold and gray.

So for today?  Today, I think I'll just wallow in it.  Go make some snow angels, stomp around in my flip-flips (since the snow boots got packed away last week), stoke up the fire, sip a mug of afternoon hot tea, and make tomato-basil-bisque for dinner.

'Cause the thing is, my family in Texas is already sick & tired of the dry, hot, almost-summer days.  Day after day of clear skies, TX sun beating down on thirsty, withered grass...

Sometimes, Winter Reruns help me appreciate the here & now. 
Sure, the grey-day chill can be depressing...but lil' orphan Annie is right, and the sun will come out tomorrow.  How much more I will appreciate the blue skies, after enduring, with hope-for-brighter-days, the mid-May blanket of snow.

I wouldn't wish rough times on anyone; of course not.

Yet when I'm hit outta-the-blue with cold, fearsome days...I cherish all the more, the dawn when finally sunlight streams in, warming, reassuring, bringing new life, new hope. 

His mercies are new every morning.

Linking up with Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama for Five Minute Fridays.