{when Jesus weeps}

I remember the exact moment I heard the news. The hot tears pouring down my face and the

confused prayers to a God I couldn’t understand.

Sarah, Chad, Nathan, Christopher, little guys who fought cancer and won eternity, babies lost during pregnancy, a sweet faced little man who I had never even met. 

Mitch, my dad, Mary.  And now a man who fathered many, loved many, who lived a gentle life and praised the Lord for his many blessings.

Others taken what seemed like an eternity too soon. Friends who lost their anchor. Wives who had to plan the funeral of their loves instead of their retirement with them. Parents who had to walk through a valley no parent should ever have to walk through.

I remember falling at the feet of Jesus, as Mary and Martha had done after their brother died, and saying “Jesus, if only you had been here… Jesus, it didn’t have to end like this… Jesus, why didn’t you come sooner… Jesus, why didn’t you do something.”

I cry out to Him… You so could have been glorified in this! You could have raised him up off His sick bed and EVERYONE would have known it was only by YOU! It’s just so hard to understand. Such good people, gone so soon.

And just as He did with Mary, I can feel His gentle response to my questions, my confusion, my frustration, my grief…

Jesus wept.

Jesus doesn’t just understand our tears, He joins us in them.  There’s something about those words, “Jesus wept”, that have changed the way I grieve. Changed the way I have comforted others in their grief. I once mistakenly thought faith in Jesus meant that we could say things like “we will see them again someday” and that would make it alllll better. But it doesn’t. Because when you are standing at the casket of your child, someday feels like it’s a million years away. When you are sitting at a family dinner and there is an empty chair staring back at you, you want someday to be RIGHT NOW. When you have exciting news and the one who would rejoice the loudest is gone, someday just leaves you with silence.

Don’t get me wrong, someday gives us hope. Someday is something we can cling to in this world 

until we make it to the next.  Without someday I don't know how we would get through this day. But someday doesn’t make the pain go away.

I still pick up my phone and want to text Mary and share the news.  I still wish my dad could be there cheering Zach on as he runs the football down the field.  I wish I had the chance to tell him to stop screaming at the referees so loud.  I wish he were here to give Tali’s boyfriend a hard time. I wish… I wish I could get my mind around God’s plan that doesn’t always make sense.

But Jesus wept. When His friends Mary and Martha were grieving over Lazarus… He did too.  He knew that He had come to that place for the sole purpose of raising Lazarus up from the dead, not someday but THAT VERY DAY… and still He wept. He entered into their grief. He joined them there. He didn’t chastise them for not understanding, He didn’t turn around and leave because they questioned Him, He wasn’t let down by their accusing tone- Jesus, if only you had been here, our brother wouldn’t have died…

Instead He entered into their grief. And He cried with them. His heart was deeply moved by their mourning, and He wept. He didn’t tell Mary to get up and dust herself off. He joined her in the dirt.

For my friends who are grieving, I just want you to know that Jesus is too. Even though He knows the plans and the purposes… even though He is working all things to the good… even though He knows that Resurrection Day is COMING… He is still right there with you in the midst of your grief. He is sinking down in the dirt beside you and He will cry with you until you are ready, until you are able, to reach out and let Him help you up off your knees.  He can handle your questions.  He can handle you pounding on His chest and screaming “WHY?!” He can handle your tears. Because He loves you. And He understands.

Friends, Resurrection Day is coming. And the hope for those in Christ is that we will see our loved ones again. Until that day comes, it’s okay to miss them. It’s okay to wish they were here. It’s okay to wonder why. Even when I can't understand Him, I am comforted knowing He always understands ME. He understands you too. He grieves. He weeps. He sits in the dirt and He comforts you. 

Father,

Your Word tells us that you alone can turn our mourning into dancing. Your Word promises us that you are near to the broken hearted. Your Word assures us that those who mourn will be comforted. Your Word tells us that you will save those who are crushed in Spirit. Would you just make those words real for those who are grieving today? Jesus would you sit down in the dirt with them and just love them? Wrap your arms around them, let them FEEL your embrace in a most tangible way, Father. Whether the loss is a day old or a decade old, would you bring the comfort that only your Holy Spirit can bring. Fill them with the hope of someday, while you weep with them today. I love you Jesus, thank you for loving me. Jesus, I trust you. In your name we pray…

{overwhelmed}

After months of planning, dreaming, talking, saving, we arrived at Hilton Head Island. In the middle of a horrendous downpour. Unable to do the anticipated mad dash to the beach, we instead unloaded, unpacked, and headed to the grocery store to buy what we would need for the week. By the time we got back to our villa and had supper it was no longer raining, but it was also completely dark.

Despite the late hour, I still wanted to touch the beach... to see the ocean... even if by a moonlit sky. We were only a short walk over the boardwalk away, after all. And it had stopped raining. And it was our first time ever at Hilton Head. And my first time ever to see the ocean... and so we went.

As we walked across the boardwalk in the dark, I thought about my only other attempt to visit the ocean. I was eighteen years old with a friend of mine. We set out on the road for Virginia Beach, only to have the transmission go out on our car in the middle of the night in West Virginia. Days later with a brand spankin' new transmission we headed on... only to arrive in Virginia Beach in the middle of a tropical storm that had all local beaches closed. We spent one night within walking distance of the ocean, yet I headed home never having laid eyes on it.

This trip would not be the same. Come storm or high water or late arrivals- I would see the ocean. And not just the glimpse we could catch from our balcony... I wanted to touch it. To take in the enormity of the OCEAN... to gaze out over the endless waters and marvel at the fact that God measures all of it in the cup of His palm. I wanted to be overwhelmed... by the ocean, by the beauty of creation, by my God.

As we neared the ocean, the remnants of the evenings storms were still palpable in the air. The wind was rushing into our faces, making the perfect towel-cape blowing scenario for an eleven year old boy.  Yet within me was a growing unease. We passed only four people on the entire boardwalk. We saw no lights and heard no other voices in the night air. The roar of the waves grew louder. And with clouds overtaking the moon, darkness closed in on us as we stepped from the boardwalk to the beach. 

Jim, having been to the beach many times marched onward toward the waves. Tali, flashlight in hand followed close behind. Zach stood with me on the beach path for a few minutes, then seeing that nothing swooped in and swept away the rest of his family, he joined his sister and dad further down on the beach.

And I stood, frozen. The ocean was so LOUD. Why didn't I realize it would be so loud? A short distance away I could see the white waves crashing against the shore but other than that there was only the black of the night sky meeting the black of the water.  With the wind howling around me, darkness surrounding, and the roar of the ocean overtaking my senses… I was gripped with fear.

A couple came stumbling toward me as my family giggled a few yards down the beach. “Be careful!” the guy laughed… “you’ll get lost!” The girl picked up where he left off telling me about their nighttime adventure strolling the beach. Their words were full of joy… and yet they drove the stake of terror deeper into my heart. Lost?! The couple wandered away, giggling and holding hands.

“Let’s come back tomorrow” I called out to my family. They were straying too far into the darkness for my liking. While I couldn’t really see the ocean, I could feel it’s power and immensity. I was overwhelmed in the purest sense of the word. I was paralyzed with fear and terrified for my family to go any farther on the dark beach.

My son ran by me, towel over his head and flying behind him in proper fashion. Tali investigated something with her flashlight. Jim called out for me to come join him. But my feet would not move from their spot at the end of the boardwalk. Fear was gripping me, growing from a nagging concern deep in my heart to an overwhelming anxiety and confusion. I couldn't make sense of anything, it was all so unknown. As hard as I strained into the darkness I could only see black with a bit of white foam interrupting sporadically. 

Once, it took a storm to keep me from realizing my dream of walking in the ocean. This time, it took only my own fear of the unknown. I was 37 years old, standing on the shore for the first time in my life, and I was terrified. 

As I stood there, I could hear God whispering... teaching. I had come to the ocean to see His face, in a way. I wanted to TOUCH the immensity of the ocean that He holds in the depth of His palm. I wanted to look farther than my eye could see and know there was STILL MORE… that the waters went on and on and on and on. That they went down to depths I can't even imagine… just like this God that I love. Just like this God that loves me.

But we want to meet God in the bright light of day. In the comfort of a church sanctuary, or in the blessing of a new baby. We don't want to meet God in the darkness... when confusion and chaos abounds and all we hear is the roar of His power.

How many find themselves frozen at the end of the boardwalk when God is right there. Unable to see clearly, we don’t know where to step, or what this journey will require. How far can we go and be safe? How far can we go and not get lost? What if it overtakes us? What if it literally overwhelms us, sweeping over our heads and requiring everything? What if?

I looked at my family’s reactions to the exact same beach in the exact same dark with the exact same wind blowing their faces and the exact same ocean roar assaulting their ears.

My husband, having been to a beach at night before knew that there would be soft waters at the edge to warn you that you are close. He understood the gradual slope of a natural beach, and how far one would have to go to get even knee deep in the dark waters.  If he feared, he did not show it. He trusted what he knew about the ocean and the beach… and he marched confidently toward the waves.

My daughter, flashlight in hand and close behind the one she knew would never, ever lead her into danger didn't register a hint of fear either. She had a bit of light in her hand to illuminate her steps immediately before her, and was close to one that she trusted.

My son, hanging back at first. Pacing fearfully… yet anxious not to miss out on a single adventure this vacation had to offer. Waiting to make sure dad and sister were okay- then running with abandon around the beach.

They were not hindered by fear, at least not their own.

They were not hindered by fear, until I called out to them to return. Until they heard it in my voice, despite my chipper “let’s come back in the morning, when it’s light… We can come back when we can see and explore”… I am certain they all knew from my frozen stance on the beach that mom was not comfortable with this scenario. Not one little bit.

They were not hindered by fear, I until hindered them with mine.

Today we returned to the same beach by the same boardwalk. The wind is blowing in my face as I type these words. The roar of the ocean drowning out the squeals of nearby children.

But it’s entirely different in the light of day.

The ocean has not changed. It is still immense. Powerful. As I waded out in it this morning, waves crashed over my head and I cried out with delight. Psalm 42:7  immediately came to mind… “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.” Literally His waves and breakers swept over me. And in the Light… it was welcomed and beautiful.

Before we know God… before we have His Light… He is so much. The power and the might and the majesty is just… too much. It is too dark and too frightening… too awesome. And we are overwhelmed. But if we would trust one who had walked before us, or take with us a tiny hand held light from His Word, or look to those running with abandon even in the unknown of His presence… maybe then we would have the confidence to step out of our fear and into the enormity of who He is.

Having met the ocean in the light, I’m curious what my response will be if we return tonight. I have a feeling that, having known the Light I will now have the confidence to explore even in the night.

When I came to the Lord, it was initially terrifying. I looked into my sin stained life and knew… the requirement would be high. I knew that He wasn't a God satisfied with a portion, but that in time, He would want it all. Everything. But, like the sun rising in my life I could see His beauty. I could see both His immensity, and the gentle way He crashed to the shore… the gradual slope of the beach into His depths. Even how, if we plant ourselves in beach chairs a safe distance from the crashing surf… He will eventually make His way to us with His rising tides tickling our toes.

Last night as we returned to our villa, not having touched the ocean, the Lord asked me if I was willing to trust Him in the dark, as well. To trust Him in the unknown… to trust Him in the dreams He has planted in my heart. To know that He is the same God at night as He is during the day… to take my knowledge of His gentle surf into the darkness with me. And to TRUST.

I wonder, reader, where you are in your experience with God? Is He still an overwhelming unknown? Take comfort in the scripture that says “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”… know that as He did with me, on this beach last night… He will meet you in your fear, and begin to teach you the unsearchable truths of His Kingdom. Also remember that this is only the beginning of wisdom- He never desired that we would stay in this place. Rather He tells us that perfectlove casts out all fear! Take a step into the unknown, and then like dawn His light will begin to shine over your life. You will see and know the wonders of our Lord…

Or maybe you are like me… you have been walking with the Lord for some time now. You have known His miracles and seen His good works. You have seen His hand of protection and providence in your life. You have learned to trust Him in the light… but now the path before you is uncertain. It’s big and frightening and it seems as though it may overtake you. He wants you to be reminded today that He is the same God in the dark as He is in the light. He is the same God in the day as the night. He is the same God who met you in your first adventure on the beach, and He is the same God that will be there when your dream is within reach. He is the same.

Don’t let your fear tell you anything differently. Don’t let your fear cause you to focus on the roar of His power and miss the gentle tickling of the surf on your toes. Don’t let your fear convince you that the darkness will win. Don’t let your fear hold you captive at the end of the boardwalk.

Don't let your fear hinder you. 

Don't let your fear hinder the ones you love.

I wish this tale was one of a family who, in their excited first night at the beach, giggled and ran along the shoreline. How we got lost… and then found our way again. How we made memories that first night that will last a lifetime. But instead, my fear caused us to turn just shy of the ocean and return to the safety of what we already knew. I let my fear keep them from a memory, hold me back from putting my toes in the ocean...

Today we get a re-do. Today we sit at the beach and enjoy the surf and take in the wonder of God's

handiwork. Today, I stood at the edge of an endless ocean and cried tears at the enormous beauty of it all. Today we played in the surf and napped at the waters edge. Tonight we can walk to the beach again, and take with us the knowledge of what we saw in the light. I can step into the unknown confidently, taking with me the lessons learned last night.

We don't always get a re-do in this life. Friends, don't let your fear of the unknown you paralyze you at the end of the boardwalk. Don't let the dream you can't see clearly fade into the distance as you return to the thing you have already known. Don't miss out on adventure with our great, big God because His power seems so overwhelming in the darkness of this life.

Step into the sand. Let the enormous power of the ocean meet you with gentle surf. Take it all in.

Don't let fear hinder you... or the ones you love.

{when you miss your dad}

I was a little girl who looked at her daddy with all adoring doe-eyes. He loved me well, took me under his wing when the father the world had assigned to me threw me away… he could do no wrong in my eyes.  I would stand on the top of his cowboy boots and straining my neck to look straight up into his eyes we would dance around.  He could set up a tent in the dark of night by only the lights of our pick up truck.  He could embarrass my mom as we made our way through 3D (remember that store?) in ways unimaginable to most families. We laughed. A LOT.

Once, we were on our way to family church camp, and the hood flew up on the bus completing obstructing the windshield. Everyone on that bus remembers with laughter how he stuck his head out the window and calmly guided us to the side of the road, hopped out, tied the hood down with a rope, and then got back in- all without breaking a sweat.

That is the super-hero daddy that I knew.

Looking back, I know that he didn’t get it all right. Looking farther back into his past I know that he flat out got some things very wrong.  But my memories are so full of joy, that my heart cannot rest on the mistakes for very long.

I am not one to get caught up much on dates on the calendar. Since he passed away, I note the date that marks the anniversary of his death, and of course his birthday… but generally I have said that I miss him no more or less on those days than any of the other days of the year. Father’s Day comes and goes year after year with very few “woes” to me and my daddy’s girl heart because I’m busy celebrating the amazing dads still here in my life- my husband, step-dad, father-in-law and countless others.

No, it’s seldom a holiday or anniversary that causes that dull ache in my heart to split open into a sharp pain. But that doesn't mean I don't have them... it's just that, for me, they creep up at the most unexpected times.

It’s passing an amazing bunch of wildflowers on the road and thinking “Dad so would have stopped to get a bouquet of THOSE for mom”. A thought that I haven’t had for years, but seeing these giant purple blossoms brought that pang of remembrance and longing. Telling Zachary stories of many a wasted hour picking “weeds” we saw as flowers with my dad, more often than not while we were on our way somewhere and already running late. Pulling over with Zach to grab a picture (my version of a bouquet)… and thinking how much my little man would have loved my dad. How much Papaw Joe would have loved this kid and his quick wit. How loudly he would have cheered at football games. The shirts he would have made that said "Tali & Zach's Grandpa"... he was just that kind of guy.

It’s sitting on concrete benches at the Bicknell ball park as Jim coaches our son, remembering sitting on those very benches as dad coached the little “Mets” ball team (they were just as uncomfortable as a ten year old girl as they are now).  Watching him out on the ball field in his coach’s shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots cheering on the little guys on his team with everything he had and arguing unfair calls even more energetically. 

could I have sat any closer to him?

It's glancing over my shoulder from that concrete bench and pointing out my childhood home to the friend sitting with me. A little gray house on a corner, close enough to the ball park that we could enjoy rocket pops and fun dip all.summer.long.  I think about playing Frisbee in the field across the street. Learning to ride my bike in the road right behind me. The swing that sat outside that house and played such a prominent role in our happiest summer nights. Fireworks set off on the Fourth of July.  And this feeling creeping in that it’s not really fair that he was never able to see a single one of Z’s games, or Tali’s dance recitals. Oh the bouquet of flowers he would have brought her! I imagine a few weeds stuck in for good measure…

It’s walking through a thrift store and catching sight of a wagon-wheel clad couch… you know the ones, brown and cream and orange with dark wood trim in all of their early 80’s glory. It’s remembering sitting with your hero on just such a couch as the record player crooned the words to “Rose Colored Glasses”, your daddy singing along in that out-of-tune way he had about belting out his favorite songs.

It’s driving down the road with my knee. Spinning donuts with Jim and the kids on an empty parking lot after a snowstorm.  Seeing the way my brother smiles, cocking his head to the side with a glint in his eye that must be genetic.

Or last night, as I photographed a bride in white dancing with her daddy. The way that they looked at one another- a daddy’s girl all grown up but still looking into the eyes of her hero.  And wishing I could have had that memory. Wishing that one last time, I could have kicked off my shoes and stood atop his cowboy boots and twirled around a dance floor. A princess, and the man who made her feel that way…

Most of the time, when I think of dad it is with a happy smile and joy in knowing I will see him again. But occasionally, it is like this feeling of longing and what-if and missing out.  I am learning, that’s okay. For years I have choked back these feelings of sadness. I have pushed them at arms length for fear that the feelings would actually overwhelm me, overtake me. But Jesus is teaching me that, even in this, He is my strong tower. And that the only way to march through the waves is to let them hit you. As my sweet friend, Lauren, reminded me this week... our Father is a good one who will lift us at just the right time, so that the waves don't overtake us.

Maybe you are missing someone like that too. Take heart, dear one. Take heart that our Heavenly Father understand our grief. He understands the pain of separation from the One He loves. And like any good Daddy, he holds us in these moments of grief. He weeps with us, and whispers gently words of comfort and love and understanding.

He doesn’t want us to stay in this place, but He does want us to be honest with Him about it. To ask Him why, tell Him we don’t understand, to lean our heads on his ever-strong chest and let Him catch each tear that falls. He wants us to trust Him when the waves feel strong... and at just the right time He will lift us... or even better, He will part the sea and let us walk through on dry land.

Would you let me pray for you?

Father, oh God... Abba... I thank you that you are a good God and a good Father. I thank you that you come right where we are, that you meet us even in grief and sadness. Lord, I pray for those who are hurting tonight, for those who, like me, are missing their daddies. I pray Lord that you would be near to the brokenhearted, as your Word promises. I pray that you would be near to this daddy's-girl-heart tonight. I am thankful to know that in Jesus, we have a Savior who knows exactly what we are feeling, that He also wept, and that it's okay to rest for a while in our feelings. To actually FEEL the things some of us have kept at arms length. I thank you God, that you are the lifter of our heads... would you keep our eyes focused on your goodness, your mercy, and your love. Would you remind us of the great hope we find in eternity, and the great reunions that will some day take place? Would you mend hearts tonight? Catch tears? Would you capture us up in your arms, and dance with us atop your ever strong, ever steady feet? I thank you, Father, that all that you are... you are for each and every one of us. In Your Son's beautiful Name I pray... AMEN.

For more on how our Daddy God holds you in your grief:  a daddy's love

To read more about my daddy, and how he loved me: tale of a father's love

a daddy's love

I answered the phone knowing what he would say...

"I found Lily" and then, voice cracking, "she's gone."

Details, question- where, how, are you sure? How does she look? Can Tali see her? What should I do?

"I will have her on the back deck, Tali can see her."

The walk to Tali's room filled with prayer. And she knew the minute she saw my face. She had just been helping her daddy look for her Lily, he had just sent her inside...

"No Mommy, no..."

And then she ran outside... to her daddy... to her beloved pup... to a scene that broke this heart wide open.

Jim stood on the steps, cradling the ball of fluff that was our Lily girl in his arms... sobbing. The voice that had cracked on the phone, was overcome when his little girl came bursting through the back door in search of her "little ball of love" (as Tali once described Lily in a school paper).

We all loved Lily. but I knew standing their that Jim's grief came more from seeing his baby girl broken as anything else.

That's a daddy's heart.

It's a heart that seeks to protect and guide and care for... it's a heart that breaks when his children's breaks. It's a heart that will sit on the back deck, cradling the lifeless body of a dog, for as long as his little girl needs to say goodbye.

As I stood there in the cool of the night watching the scene unfold... my heart was wrecked. It was wrecked for my little girl, grieving. It was wrecked with love for my husband, such a good, good daddy. And it was wrecked with a vision of how our own Daddy God loves us.

Jim's construction green shirt showing the evidence of a long days work, hands stained from an evening repairing his truck... and his strong arms gently cradling the eight pound dog he just carried from the highway.

And I thought... This... this is how our Daddy God carries OUR grief.

Despite the big things going on in the world... our Daddy captures every one of our tears in a bottle. Each is precious to Him. He meets you in your grief. And He will sit with you, on the back deck, for as long as you need to work through it.

He will enter into your grief with you. Not a distant being gazing at you, watching from afar... a person, there, holding your grief in His strong arms. Present... in the moment. Grieving with you.

I think about Jesus as He made His way to Lazarus's tomb... when Mary threw herself at Jesus's feet, wracked by grief over the loss of her brother... Jesus wept.

Jesus joined her in her grief... even though He knew He would be bringing Lazarus back... Why? Why would Jesus cry? He wasn't grieving because He would never see Lazarus again. He didn't cry because He was late to the funeral. He grieved because the one He loved grieved. He hurt because she hurt.

He hurts when you hurt.

I saw such a beautiful, heart wrenching picture of this on Monday night.A daddy's tears shed one for one for the tears of his daughter. Strong arms carrying her affection and grief. Not rushing her to move through her emotions... but joining her in them. Processing with her. The utmost of respect given to a grave, a dignified spot in the yard, a stone to mark a little life full of love. And later, when sleep would not come, pulling his little girl onto his lap. Validating her brokenness and in doing so, beginning the fine work of putting her back together again.

Such a good, good daddy.

So much like another Daddy I know.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1a

[You can read about the day we found Lily here]

Also- to update, Tali is processing her grief well. She still has tearful, "Lily is really gone" moments... and I certainly have never seen her grieve so deeply, but am proud of how she has leaned on us and her Daddy God to comfort. 

learning to stop.

I lay on the couch, laptop propped on a pillow on top of me. It’s a familiar evening routine, mommy editing pictures, or uploading sessions to her website, or blogging, or typing case notes. Since {in a blink} has taken off, my life has become very, very busy. And while I am thankful for what God is up to, and how He has blessed our family with the extra income to help us get out of debt, it can be hard sometimes to put in the hours that are necessary… and to love on my babies like they need. Especially the one with blonde hair and big brown eyes.

I am just being honest here.

I didn’t really realize how busy my life had gotten until last night, as he chattered on and I focused intently on a text message conversation and picture edits and catching up on emails and checking the status of a photo delivery, and he said “Mom, did you hear a word I just said?”

The answer was “no”. Not a single word. {mother.of.the.year}

He and I were home alone, and to this minute it makes me cry because I STILL do not know what he was talking about. I asked him to repeat himself, and instead of re-hashing it, he marveled at how I could look like I am listening, and instead my mind be a hundred other places. He wasn’t upset, in fact he thought it was funny.

But I didn’t think it was funny at all.

Lately, 4H projects and a flurry of craft glue, fabric, ribbon, paint, and glitter have given Tali and I the quality time that works for her.  She is an acts of service type lover… showing her love by carrying babies, vacuuming (one of my favorites), helping in children’s church, getting you a refill on your sweet tea, and running to the car to grab something you forgot. And so my taking copious amounts of time to sit with her as she creates, offering my expertise and opinions (many of which are rejected!)… unexpected trips to Vincennes to get that one item she just has to have… Digging through my craft storage and offering her free reign of my stash… shows her that I love her.

But that doesn’t work for Zach. I can do things for him, paint him something cool, buy him all of the things that his heart desires, even sit and talk with him and say the most encouraging things (which is why those words unheard didn’t faze him)… and none of those things speak love like the language of touch…of being together in a tangible way.

As I lay there tapping away on my keyboard, I sensed a critter crawling to me. Pressing his forehead against my cheek the critter whispered, “I haven’t laid with you in a long time”…

My almost ten-year-old little man… football player, catcher extraordinaire, bike rider, rough houser, model builder, straight-A student, video gamer… wanted to cuddle with his momma.

I want to say I put the computer down immediately. I did not. There is so much to get done. My to-do list grows and grows and grows and I never seem to get ahead of it. If I could just finish editing this one more session, I could put that satisfying line through their name on my list. Another hour or two and I will be done…I want to tell you that the natural thing for me was to cuddle my son. But stopping does not come naturally to me at all. Being still requires a conscious decision. 

But that head lay there next to mine. Little boy knees crouched on the floor by the couch. Just wanting to be close.

And I knew… I knew… these moments are fleeting. They will not be here forever. Zachary, here, near, wanting to lay on the couch with his momma. With me. No one in the world will do. Just me. One of these days he is going to grow up. He will move out and move on. This moment is fleeting…

And so I closed my computer and set it on the floor. Pushing my way to the back of the couch I made room. And with the lift of a blanket, Zach knew the invitation had been issued.

And so we cuddled.

All eighty pounds of him, pressed against me. Heavy and long.

I thought of the seven pound baby I laid on this very same couch with. How snuggly he fit, nestled against my body. And now, his head alone lay in that space. His body stretched the length of mine, falling only inches short of the top of my feet.

And yet. He still fit.

I rubbed his arm, now strong with the throwing of baseballs all summer. I ran fingers through hair bleached blonde from long hours at the local pool. I listened to a voice deepening, asking questions about the show flickering in the TV.

We talked, we watched… but mostly… we were just there. And in that was the love.

My cell phone chimed. A new text message.  I saw my son’s eyes glance toward the phone, and then to me.  He waited for me to reach for it (he knows his momma well).  But I let it lay. And then again, and again, and again, and again. Five messages lay in wait. But I didn’t move toward the phone. Those conversations are important. But not so important as this.  

Zach didn’t need me busy. He just needed me.

For an hour we lay together. For an hour I thanked God for this time, for slowing me down, for showing me the error of my way… for showing me how I had let the doing interfere with the being. I thanked Him for this little boy growing toward manhood. This one who makes me laugh with his witty humor. This one who hates to clean but loves to cook.  This one who brushes it off when mom has spaced out again and didn’t hear what he was chattering on about. This one who mops the floor after a spaghetti supper, even when mommy isn’t there to remind him to be helpful. This one who looks up to his daddy and so knows what a man should be. This one who works hard to achieve in sports what comes naturally to other kids. This one with a smile that melts my heart and stops my world and reminds me what is important. This one who… still fits in my arms.

This one who turned into my body, and head on my chest, fell asleep last night. 

As moms... it's easy to let the busy get in the way. The cleaning, or the working, or the cooking, or the preparing, or the washing, or the cell phone, or the computer... I am the worst. I do not do nothing well. I do not do stopping well. I am always going, and thinking and doing... most of the time two or three things at once. 

But last night, God used a kid with a heart for football and a penchant for fart jokes  to teach me how to stop. 

And to be.

And to love.

He showed me that the stopping was not nothing. It was something. It was everything. That the to-do list can wait. Photo edits will still be there. But this moment... this moment is precious and it is fleeting and that I have to slow down... or I am going to miss it. And I don't want to miss a thing in this amazing little man's life. I don't want him thinking my computer was more important than his cuddle. I don't know what this means for the future, or turn around time on photo edits, or working full time, or volunteering... but I know that I will do a better job at embracing the stopping, and the being, and the loving. In the end... it's all that will really matter.

Zachary... thank you for being patient with mommy when her mind is somewhere else and it should be with you. Thank you for laughing with me, and for loving me just the way I am. Thank you for sharing me with so many other people and things, and for being confident in my love no matter how poorly I show it. Zach, thank you so much for helping mommy slow down, to set the world aside, and remember what is really important. Thank you for helping me be the mommy you need me to be. I love you buddy... and just so you know... even when your toes stretch beyond mine on the couch... there will always be room. You will always fit.

Parental Whiplash: an update

About six weeks ago, my heart hit the floor when I realized that my son, whom we had trusted with a Kindle Fire that was tied to our checking account had… as we have come to call know it around here… “lost his ever loving mind” for 24 hours and cost us over $200.  I blogged about it shortly after, feel free to go read about it here if you missed the first go-round.

My husband and I struggled with what would be an appropriate punishment. What is big enough? What is too big? How do you navigate such uncharted territories as a nine-year-old overdrawing a checking account?

We started with the confiscation of the Kindle, of course, and the determination that he would have to pay his father back the money he owed him.  We had him sit and figure how many hours his daddy had to work to earn the amount of money he spent on fictional armor for a person in a video game.  And then, for every time he pressed “buy” he had to write a sentence of apology.

There was much late night discussion between Jim and I… Zach had been so forthcoming, so honest, so upstanding since the time we realized what he had done. Between us we knew his lesson had been learned… yet we had to follow through with the punishment we set forth. We worried that he would become disillusioned… our family had just instituted a chore chart which enabled the kids to earn a little money every week… at $12 a week it was going to take a LONG time to pay his daddy off. How long would he keep doing the chores without any tangible reward? Were we setting ourselves up for a three month battle to make him do the right thing?

But the most incredible thing happened.  The surprise and the pride I experienced in the days immediately after ‘the incident’ only grew.  Zachary not only owned his poor decision to press buy 29 times, but he worked hard to pay off his debt. Week in and week out, he kept tabs on his chore sheet as to how much he owed his daddy. When offered the chance to learn how to mow and earn $10 each time, he jumped at it.  Offers to clean out the car for a little extra were enthusiastically embraced. He didn't ask to have his Kindle back a single time. He didn't ask for any extras at the store, not so much as a candy bar. He was gracious and appreciative when he still got to go skating (a Friday night tradition) after a week of restriction from that activity. 

I was amazed.

Zach is, to put it lightly, one of the least patient children I have ever met. He gets it from his momma, who also does not function well in the ‘wait’. Seeing his sister slide money in her “spend”, “save”, and “give” envelopes had to be so hard for him. There were times he questioned whether or not he would ever see the end of that $213.  But he never, ever stopped working at it. He never once threw a fit, or gave up, or got mad… and the occasional pout was of the most minor variety [truly, who can fault the kid an occasional forlorn look or slow walk into the other room? Consequences suck sometimes.]

A week ago, as school let out, Zach proudly brought his report card to me. All A’s… all year. His daddy has always told the kids that if they obtain perfect attendance for an entire school year, he would give them $50 at the end of the year. The result of this offer has been myself making runs to the school at 8:30am to pick up children who didn’t tell me they were sick, because they didn’t want to miss school!  About a year ago, I told Zach on the trip back home that perfect attendance was great, but perfect grades would be even better- all A’s and mommy would give him $100. Apparently this kid just needs a goal, because he set out the next school year to get that $100 from me. And he did.

I made that deal with the kids in a moment of frustration, my second trip in a month to pick up a sick kid from school. But God knew. God had a plan for that. He is in the business of grace, and He KNEW that at just a time as this, that little boy was going to need to have a chunk of money he earned FAIR AND SQUARE. He knew that at just this time, a mom and a dad were going to be looking for a way to expedite the paying off of a debt so their son could move into the next phase of giving and saving. He knew just what we were going to need, and over a yea ago, He made a way.

He is so good, isn’t He?

And so, Zach had earned $100 that he applied to his debt… bringing it down to $50. Which brought about another late night conversation with his daddy. Jim was worried that Zach would become discouraged working and working with nothing but numbers on a paper to show for it. We agreed that he needed to finish paying us off, but decided to let him keep 50% of his money every week and apply the other 50% to his debt.

I talked to Zach about it the next day. I told him we were really proud of the way he had worked hard to pay us off, and that we wanted him to start having some of his chore money. I told him about the compromise we had come up with the night before… but Zach quickly responded… “I don’t want to do that”.

I fully expected him to leap for joy to know he would have some spending money for the summer. Instead he went on… “That will take forever to pay off. I just want to keep giving everything to daddy”.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t even know how to respond for a minute. Finally I said, with tears in my eyes “That was a really wise decision, Zach, a really wise decision.”  For a moment, I felt like I knew what our Father must feel when He looks upon us with those sweet words “Well done, good and faithful one…”  Those words don’t come because we never make mistakes, they come because we have a heart that desires to do the right thing and a willingness to turn toward Him when we find ourselves on the wrong path. It’s owning up to the decisions we have made, growing through the consequences, and accepting His grace. It comes from our reaching a place where we say "my all for you!"

In that moment, I knew there was room for grace in our growing-our-kids-plan as well. Another late night conversation, and Jim's reaction was the same as mine. Not only had the lesson been learned, but we could see definite growth in our son over the process of walking out of this mistake. We both agreed to forgive the last bit of Zachary’s debt (he had done some mowing and other extras to bring it down to below $40). I spoke about it with a few friends to get their input (it takes a village, people), and all agreed with our heart to extend grace to our son.

Zach was subdued when I told him.

Grace is sometimes a difficult gift to receive, isn’t it?

He did accept it though. And with this last week’s chore & mowing money, he paid his sister back for the portion of her gift card he had also burned through and had $12 to slip into his respective envelopes.

Debt paid, in full. 

(He is even getting his Kindle back after living up to our challenge of a week or two ago to make it to June 1st without any more impulsive decisions).

The correlation to the grace we receive from our Heavenly Father is impossible to miss. Yes, Zach paid off his debt… but every penny he paid was originally his daddy’s in the first place.

Zach, like us, was powerless to really pay off that debt. So we made a way for him to learn, to be refined, to grow and mature. It was never about the money. It was about the growing.

It’s a little like the Law, given by a Father to His people. A system of sacrifice and right-living to pay for the debt of their sin. A debt they could never really pay for. Animals given by the Father, returned to the Father in a ritual that looked a lot like check marks on a chore chart.

And then, in a moment of mind-blowing love… a Son sent to really forgive the debt. To pay the price in full.  A sacrifice of self to end all sacrifices. That last $40 forgiven, an overwhelming grace which really and truly forgave the entire debt. Forever. A debt forgiven that somehow ends with a “well done, good and faithful one” from the Master to the debtor.

It's incredible, isn't it??

I could not have imagined six weeks ago that the Kindle-debacle would have ended with a momma's heart swelling with pride for the young man my son is growing into. And my spirit finds such comfort in the knowledge that HE feels the same way about ME. That even in my failures, His love is unwavering... that, in fact, He knows how He will use those failures to His good purposes. That He knows the end from the beginning, and how we will walk through consequence, finding ourselves refined on the other side. That our Daddy God alone knows the path that will lead us to the greatest realization of His love and purpose. 

Regardless of where you are now, or where you have been... the Father has a plan and a purpose. He is not disappointed. In foretelling of Israel's deliverance, God says in Isaiah 27:4 "I am not angry". That verse struck my heart the first time I read it, and it rings there to this day. I am not angry. For many years, I related to a God who I felt was mostly mad. Mostly disappointed. Mostly frustrated. But here, in talking to a people who were captives because of their own decisions... people who would could have had peace like a river had they only listened to Him... people who instead had chosen to turn away from Him again and again and again... He says "I am not angry".

I think of that night in our living room, daddy confronting a son who had made a huge mistake. Tears in my eyes as I saw my husband take our son by the hands and start his discussion by saying "I love you so much, buddy". We were taken by surprise, disappointed, confused, hurt... yet if Jim, who is just a failed human parent like the rest of us, knows how to love his son well even in that moment... how much more must our Father in Heaven love us in all of ours?

I don't know where you are tonight, but I know from my own life there are things I am walking through even now that are not easy. Areas that I have made mistakes. Things I am still trying to sort out. What a comfort it is to hear my Daddy say "I am not angry". What a comfort to know that He is using this time to grow and refine, that He is is still proud to call me His child. He feels the same way about you, my friend.

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1

blessed are those who hunger...

I want to live a sold out kind of life. I want to look like the disciples, who were willing to give up all that they knew to follow the One who promised the Truth. I want to trust Jesus, even when He calls me to dark places. I want to live a life that is set apart. I want to be okay with standing out in a crowd.

But truth is… most of the time I am too distracted by life to really be sold out. I am too distracted by worry, or fear, or hobbies, or work, or family, or… you get the idea.

And when I wake up and look around and find myself wallowing in complacency, I get so disappointed. 

How could I be striving so strongly one week, and so blinded the next?  But really, it's easy to do, isn’t it? Bible reading becomes routine, going to church becomes habit, and spiritually you find yourself nodding off.  I guess that’s where I found myself a couple of weeks ago. It felt as though I was standing amongst the crowd of on-lookers rather than sitting at the Rabbi’s feet… and I was so disappointed in myself. Surely our Father was disappointed too. I trip up so often. I'm so far from where I desire to be in Him. I forget the power and authority that I have through Him. I look to the world rather than His heart...

And then, our beautiful, gracious, loving Father whispered the most beautiful thing to me…

“Becky, I love your hunger”…

He wasn’t disappointed that I failed. He wasn’t angered that I grew sleepy. He wasn’t frustrated with me.  He was ravished by one who sincerely wants more than that.  Who looks around and realizes that this is not enough. Who is not satisfied with the status quo.  

I'm not suggesting that it's okay to grow complacent (or that I have it all figured out!)... I'm saying that perhaps that awakening to our complacency does not necessarily mean we have lost all traction and are skidding down the side of the mountain we have been climbing... rather for those who awaken dissatisfied, it could mean that we have found ourselves on a plateau, or camping out for a bit on the side of the Holy Hill.  As a friend and I were discussing this very topic, it occurred to me that this place she is in, which feels very lukewarm to her now, is the very place she was striving for when she first became a Christian. But having arrived there, and being there for a while, her spirit is awakening to the truth that there is more. There is always more. And she is hungering after that more. 

If you are awakening to the more... hungering after that more...God says "I love your hunger"...

I share this to encourage your spirit, just as mine was nourished by those sweet words whispered directly to my heart. God is not mad at you. If you are not all that you think He desires you to be, don’t beat yourself up about it… He is enthralled that your heart desires more!  He is ravished by you. He is ravished by your hunger.  He isn’t disappointed that you aren’t there yet… He is thrilled that THERE is the place you desire to go.

You see, that point of dissatisfaction is a demonstration of your hunger.  And Jesus loves hungry people! Nestled amongst eight blessed-are’s in Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount we find this one…

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” [Matthew 5:6]

It doesn’t say “Blessed are the righteous…”

It says “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousnenss…”

Sold out people are hungry. They are hungry for righteousness. They are hungry for Jesus, the giver of righteousness.  They are hungry for MORE.

Even when they stand amongst crowds who are satisfied with church on Sunday. Even when they live with people who have just “enough” Jesus.  Even when everyone else is seems okay with living with one foot in the world and one foot in the church… they hunger and thirst for MORE.

There are many characteristics of the sold out life. But I think that sort of lifestyle has to start here… with the hunger. Sold out people are always hungry.

Although Jesus is enough… yes, He is MORE than enough… one can never have enough Jesus. He is big beyond our wildest imaginings, the Word through which all of creation came to be… and no matter how much of Him you know, or have experienced… there is always more.

And sold out people desire the more.

Even in those seasons of apparent complacency, there is a holy dissatisfaction growing inside… an uneasiness that eventually overflows into conviction. So, strapping boots back on, the sold out look to the Holy Hill and march on. Unsatisfied with anything less than the indwelling of the Living God. Unsatisfied with anything less than His presence. Unsatisfied with anything less than becoming that which He imagined you to be as He formed you in your mother’s womb.

You are hungry for more.  You wouldn't have read this far if you weren’t. This is the first step... this is the foundation for living a sold out life.  It has to start with a desire for more. A hunger and a thirst for righteousness... for they will be filled. He loves your hunger!

Father, stir within us even tonight a desire for more of you. Wake us up from our complacency, from our place in the crowd. Open our eyes to the person you created us to be, and put the striving in our hearts to seek after that with all that we have. Father make us a people willing to live dangerously for you... a people who trust you ENOUGH no matter what the cost. Cause us to hunger and thirst for your righteousness, for your Son, for your Spirit... Thank you Father for your grace, your mercy, your love. Thank you for being a Father who is ravished by us... and help us to walk in that identity...

counting the cost

A week or so ago, a friend of mine posed this question on her facebook status…

“…to follow after Jesus… What does that mean? What does that require of me?”

Of course, for followers of Jesus the immediate response comes… “everything”.

But what is everything?

My friend wasn’t looking for someone else to define this for her, rather she was inviting us to seek our hearts … to seek a deeper definition… to count the cost.

Her questions have echoed in my mind all week. What does it mean to follow after Jesus. What does it require? What does everything look like? Am I really willing to lay down all that He has asked me to lay down? Even more, am I willing to pick up what He’s asked me to carry?

In Luke 15:25-35 Jesus says to the large crowd that had been traveling with him:

^25-27"Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters—yes, even one's own self!—can't be my disciple. Anyone who won't shoulder his own cross and follow behind me can't be my disciple.
 ^28-30"Is there anyone here who, planning to build a new house, doesn't first sit down and figure the cost so you'll know if you can complete it? If you only get the foundation laid and then run out of money, you're going to look pretty foolish. Everyone passing by will poke fun at you: 'He started something he couldn't finish.' ^31-32"Or can you imagine a king going into battle against another king without first deciding whether it is possible with his ten thousand troops to face the twenty thousand troops of the other? And if he decides he can't, won't he send an emissary and work out a truce?
 ³³"Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple.” {the Message paraphrase}

I am trying to picture this…  Jesus’ ministry is really beginning to pick up steam. He is preachin’ and teachin’, healing people and casting out demons.  Crowds are forming. Following. People want to be near Him. People want to hear Him. He was a preacher on the fast track to a mega-church… and He turns to the crowd and says “If you aren’t willing to leave everything, even your own children… even your SELF… you can’t be my disciple! COUNT THE COST! Only come, if you are willing to GO THE DISTANCE!  If you aren’t willing to lay down what I ask you to lay down, and pick up what I ask you to pick up… even a cross that leads to pain, shame,…death… then don’t bother coming at all.”

Imagine a mega-evangelist looking into the faces of thousands and saying “If you aren’t willing to give it all up, don’t come at all.”

I haven’t looked into it, but I’m pretty sure that’s not in many of the “how to build your church” books out there.  But Jesus wasn’t building a church. He was building a Church. A Kingdom.  A Kingdom that is worth it all! 

He isn’t looking for fans. He isn’t looking for a crowd of on-lookers. He is looking for disciples. People willing to leave their fishing nets at the side of the lake and follow Him. People willing to walk into dangerous situations knowing that the Gospel is worth it. People willing to sacrifice. People willing to go the distance.

When Jesus came to this earth, He knew what it would take to complete His mission. And yet He came. He counted the cost, and then He walked through this life knowing it would end with a cross. He knew the Kingdom, and He knew the Kingdom was worth it. He knew you and knew that you are worth it.  

He invites us to count the cost. To search our lives and realize what “everything” looks like. Are you willing?

When I sit back and consider… our God is so big He holds the entire universe in the span of His hand [Isaiah 42:12]… the entire universe. Consider that! Really consider it! Our own Milky Way has over 200 billion stars, and that’s only one of 100s of billions of galaxies! He holds all of that in the span of His hand! Not only that, He created all of that… with a word! With His very breath.

That’s a BIG God.

And yet He has your name carved on the palm of that very same hand [Isaiah 49:16]. He knows every hair on your head [Luke 12:7], every hurt in your heart, captures every tear in a bottle [Psalm 56:8]. He loves you enough to call you son, daughter [1 John 3:1]. He loves you enough, to lay down His very own life… for you [Romans 5:8]. That’s an overwhelming love!

That’s a crazy kind of love!

And so… when faced with the knowledge of a God who loves us so much He was willing to die for us… a God so intimate that He ministers directly to our heart… What will our response be? How can we respond half-heartedly to One who gave His everything?

What does it look like to follow Jesus? What does it require? What will it cost? What does everything look like?

Perhaps the reason this question struck me... is I have sensed Jesus asking my heart this same question for some time now. Starting several years ago when I first read Crazy Love by Francis Chan [if you haven't read that yet, skip my blog and pick it up instead!]. Over the last year there has been a greater and greater longing in my soul to live a life that is sold out for Jesus... to really play to an Audience of One... but what does that look like? What is everything? A few weeks ago I had the chance to share with a group of people some of the things God has put on my heart about living in the light of His crazy love... what it means to live a sold out life. As I prayed and contemplated and put those thoughts rattling around my mind out into the atmosphere, I realized there is so much more. 

So… I want to dig deeper. I want to dig deeper than I did with that Bible Study on a sold out life. I want to dig deeper on this concept of everything. I want to look into scripture, and my heart, and God’s heart, and the heart of the Body and discover what a sold out life looks like. And then, I want to live it. 

This is a dangerous undertaking. I fear the responsibility of knowing. But how much worse to be complacent. To be one who failed to count the cost… and couldn’t finish the mission.

I want to have a heart postured before Him in such a way that everything really, really, really means everything. 

If you are up for some dangerous living, I invite you to join me on this quest. This journey. This adventure.  Over the next couple of weeks, I hope to look at different characteristics of the sold out life. The characteristics aren’t mine… some are concepts from Chan’s book, many are gleaned from looking at the lives of Jesus and His disciples, some are insights into the lives of other believers, a few are convictions of my own heart… and your everything and my everything are going to look different. But in the end… that’s what He requires. Everything.

…to follow Jesus… what does that mean? What does that require of me?

no ordinary day...

Today was no ordinary day.

I woke up at my ordinary time. The kids went about their ordinary routine and climbed aboard their ordinary school bus. I watched my ordinary morning program as I answered ordinary emails.  I ran ordinary errands, and went about an ordinary work day. I had an ordinary lunch and left my ordinary tip.

But today was no ordinary day. Today I awoke with a revelation of how incredible the gift of today is. And that changes everything.

Day in and day out I awaken, go about my day, and then eventually doze off to sleep… dulled by the predictability of it all. The ordinariness of life.

But there is nothing ordinary about any today.

The very mechanics that keep you and I breathing are mind-boggling. The fact that we awaken each morning is a miracle in and of itself. The delicate balance that is necessary to keep us functioning… it’s truly astounding if you delve very deeply into it all. In fact, there is nothing ordinary about the fact that I can form thoughts and ideas, assimilate information, type it into this keyboard on my lap, read the words from an illuminated screen, that the light splashing against the back of my eye would cause electric impulses to begin bouncing around my brain… forming thoughts and ideas, assimilating information…

That’s extraordinary! Have you ever stopped to think about it at all?

And so, this was no ordinary day. As I opened my eyes this morning and began talking to God about today, considering the tasks before me, He impressed upon my heart “this is no ordinary day… none of your days are ordinary. Each carry a plan, a purpose… no, there is nothing ordinary about today…”

So, as I made an ordinary home visit, I found the extraordinary opportunity to meet another of God’s children at her point of need… not a need for additional in-home services, or for food or money, but the need for someone to be present, listening, nodding with empathy and offering hope during this difficult season in her life.

As I sat waiting for my lunch, I found the opportunity to smile gently to the one preparing my food.

As I ran ordinary errands, I found the chance to bring joy into chaotic places, grace where other customers would have shown frustration, and appreciation where so many take for granted.

As I heard the ordinary beep of my cell phone, I was blessed by the opportunity to pray for a dear, dear friend and to encourage her heart the way she has so often encouraged mine.

His grace met my heart today, and there is nothing ordinary about that. He smoothed away a bit more of me, making room for more of Him. That is extraordinary.

And so today I am changing the header on my blog. This is no longer “a glimpse at my quirky, mundane, blessed little world”… because there is nothing mundane about this world. There is nothing mundane about this breath in my nostrils, or heart beating with such passion in my chest, or mind firing off thoughts faster that I can record them… this is an extraordinary world. Full of possibilities.  Ripe with potential.  This is a life saturated by His grace. And that’s amazing.

Praying for you, friend, who feels dulled by the predictability of it all. The ordinariness of life. I understand. I have been there.  And so I am praying that you will encounter Him in a fresh way today… that your eyes will be awakened to the extraordinary grace that pours into each day He has given you, the love He has for you, the mercy He has extended to you. Praying that He will open your eyes, as He did mine… to this magical opportunity we have to find grace in the everyday. 

playing catch-up

I have had a blessedly busy several days, and allowed myself the time off of blogging... but I did have things that I was thankful for each day:

23: thankful for new life. Holding a precious newborn in my hands and rejoicing with his amazing parents. Then celebrating growing older with my mother-in-law and the rest of Jim's family. It was a good, good, day.

24: thankful for a relaxing day enjoying the fellowship of family and friends. Reflecting on how blessed I am by the incredible people in my life.

25: thankful for perspective. After a midnight run to check out the Black Friday chaos (and not buying a thing!) I am thankful that I am not beholden to the things of this world as I once was.  That I feel the breaking heart of a starving child when I stand in places like Wal-Mart. Don't get me wrong, we are still celebrating a good old-fashioned American Christmas at our house, and our kids will be among those unwrapping a pile of presents on Christmas Day... but this year the perspective has shifted in our home. And I am thankful for that.

26: thankful for my giftings. Spent the day editing pictures I have taken of families recently. I love what I do. I am thankful that He has given me a gift that I can use to bless the lives of others in so many ways.

27: thankful for new beginnings. Stood in my church and watched two dear friends step into their happily-ever-after. Him on bended knee, her on shaking ones. He asked, and she said yes. Now a flurry of wedding planning ensues... and I cannot wait!