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morning reminders.
I was lying in bed this morning. Avoiding crawling out of its three-blanketed warmth. (I think three blankets is too many. Too heavy. Kevin thinks otherwise. London commented on the thickness of our bed covers and I told her how Daddy likes lots of covers. She grinned and replied, “But I bet his bed mate doesn’t.” She was right.) Instead of getting up and conquering the morning, I just kept lying there – letting the morning conquer me. I pretended to be pseudo-accomplishing things – like checking my e-mail on my phone. Then I scrolled through the photos stored on my phone. All 1,375 of them. I stumbled across…
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then. now. next.
Vividly, I remember it all. (Sort of.) But so clearly, so recently, it was true, that I often brace myself for the reality of it right now before I look around me and am reminded that time has escaped our clinging grasp and changed our present as it is wont to do. There was a time when our house was overrun by littles. A bevy of tinies we had. A stir. A commotion. An entrance – we made one everywhere we went. Five children under the age of six. That was our reality. Two toddlers six months apart. A newborn when those two were not even three. Diapers for a…
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focus
Oh, the struggle. It never seems to cease. Those demons from the past. The ones that pop up unexpectedly at perfectly innocuous moments. Dragons and deserts and memory of famine. It hurts. And I wonder who to trust and what is truth and where my heart is safe. And when I am reminded of all the bad, I find myself asking – does it weigh more than the good? And I have to push repeat on the mantra that is being drowned out by the demons marching to their own beat. I don’t know how to redeem the past. (Although I’m struggling toward that ideal every day.) I don’t know…
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so here it is.
The future rarely looks like the past. And change is the only constant. In some ways it seems as if our family has been rising and falling with the ebb and the flow of change for the last decade. Yes. Decade. Adoption. Vocational changes. Pastoring at a start-up church. Birth of baby. Quit teaching high school. Bi-vocational ministry. Adoption. Parents move far and far away. Birth of baby. Leave church and pastoring job. Mother passes away. Grieving. Birth of baby. New job. Relocation to another state. Kevin’s mom passes away. Marital crisis. Birth of baby. Recovery. Healing. It makes me weary just to type that insufficient collection that says…
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That word.
Remember our word? Have you thought about yours in a while? I think about mine sometimes in the ebb and in the flow. Free. And I have tried to kick fear’s rear so many times in my past. I’ve written about it. I’ve cried about it. I’ve tried. I’ve succeeded. I’ve failed. I’ve been round and round with it. And I am struggling again. Fear. That dirty dirty word. I have been reading through a Beth Moore book entitled So Long Insecurity for about six months now. And she says she believes all insecurity is based in fear. When you meet insecurity in yourself just ask, “What am I afraid…
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the beauty of the years.
Last week on a date night we tried baked brie. It was incredible. The next day I told my friend Mandy about how delicious it was. She said, “You know that you can make that at home?” No. I did not know that I could make that at home. I mean, I guess I knew. Sort of. Can’t you make anything at home? In theory – right? So I bought the brie. I bought the pastry shell thing. I baked it at home. It was delicious. I was giddy from making my $9 appetizer for only $5.00 at home. That was cool. Last night was our weekly Wednesday Gathering. I…
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made for one another.
Relationship. I think we’ve been designed for it. Community. I think it’s where God’s love is most evident. In my life, I know this to be true. Jesus – He’s our rescue, ultimately. But I think His means is through people. Regular old people. The me’s and you’s in our lives. Alone is bad, really. (I don’t mean the afternoon alone without the kids or being single or planning a weekend alone from your customary routine.) I mean, when I spend too much time alone in my own head, rummaging through the past or frantically making lists for the future, I lose all perspective. Alone in my mind, I make…
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free. from the what ifs.
I don’t know if you have bad dreams any longer. Nightmares. But I still do. And a rotten one woke me up recently. And the remnants of it clung to my skin all morning. In the asleep version of my life I had left our children at some childcare facility. It was new to me. I was new to town. And when the time came to pick up the kids, I couldn’t find the building. I couldn’t find our children. It was just a dream but I woke up bogged down in the fear of it all. As a parent, are you ever overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the…
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London said . . .
I really loved reading what you guys had to say after yesterday’s post about my flaws and the fears of transparency and how we all are tempted to reveal one face, but live another face. And I won’t deny that I am sitting in a bit of a funk right now. And that always spills out into my writing. (Actually – it more than spills out – this writing is often my exact method of coping, understanding and wading through the highs and lows of what I call living.) I don’t know if I can blame it on my age, my exhaustion, my current season of life or the too…
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I’ll go first . . .
There’s another way I’d like to be free. Free from fear of others’ opinions. Free from the temptation of trying to appear to be something I am not. I think we blog and facebook and tweet in a world that is far too easy to be fake. To be pretend. We write about the funniest moments. Or the sweetest moments. Our facebook albums are filled with the birthdays and the celebrations and the good times. We can morph ourselves into whatever shape we want in this digital pseudo-reality. And while it’s true that sometimes we are those people in the happy photographs, it seems to me that most often we…
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forget. remember. after. more words.
I have a friend who told me that the one word that has spoken to her for a long time now has been remember. And I love that choice. It seems as if I can never be reminded enough. I’ll memorize a certain portion of Scripture. Claim it. Call it to mind for weeks (and longer) over a particular situation. Then I might receive peace or calm. And then forget I ever walked that path. Forget I ever memorized that truth. Forget that God spoke to me and healed me. And I’ll wind up in my own pit with a giant running leap. Again. That’s what I seem to do.…
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what free cannot be.
I knew free was going to be a good word for me this year. When it came to the toss up between free and thrive, I really did feel as if I was making the right choice. I just didn’t know how quickly into this new year the idea of free would come back to mock me. Through work and other opportunities, my husband has a lot of overnight trips planned for the month of January. I think of myself as basically a pretty capable home manager. (In theory and on paper, at least.) I handle days fairly well. (And fairly is a broad term. Leaves lots of room –…
