Post Category → faith

get me to the church on time

Yesterday morning, by the time my alarm went off, I was already trying to justify calling a sick day and skipping church. William hadn’t slept well, due to a bit of stuffiness, and I was exhausted.

BUT.

But roll out of bed, I did, and I got to work preparing myself and the boys for church. This all takes a bit longer, as we’re still very, very far from settled into a working organizational system. Actually, that makes it sound much better than it really is: barely contained chaos. In fact, I look around and am amazed that I’m not totally freaking out. I’m thinking maybe that has to do with this meditation. (When I wrote that, I wasn’t thinking that this season of craziness would extend into April and include sheetrock dust and paint fumes, but God knew!)

The big goal is to be at church at 10:00, so we can enjoy a bit of visiting before the service begins at 10:30. At 9:55, Ryan is looking for something and can’t seem to find it. Five minutes later, he really can’t find it. Okay, strap the kids into the car so we can check my parents’ house.

It’s 10:15 as we leave our driveway.

And no luck at my parents’.

Back to our house.

Give up, and Ryan decides to just drop me off with the kids, and he’ll resume his search.

10:27, we’re heading to church (which is, fortunately, a mile down the road.)

Did I mention that I hate being late? Than I wake up very early on Sunday mornings, just to avoid being late? That I had put in four hours of work, and was still going to get to church late?

I said as much to Ryan in a wry voice, and he laughed a bit, too.

“Good thing ‘being a Christian is about more than just Sunday morning church’,” I said, still a bit sarcastic.

But the Holy Spirit jumped on that thought. “It sure is, isn’t it?,” He whispered, and suddenly, suddenly I knew that my four hours of ironing and bathing and looking and finding and bed-making and cereal-pouring and tidying was not in vain, and that getting to church at 10 was so far down the priority list, really. The [somewhat miraculous] fact that I’d done all of that with a smile and joy and servant’s heart — well, that counts as important. I mean, really: does church count as a powerful Jesus encounter for my family if it’s preceded by four hours of Mean Mom? And is Jesus any less present in my conversations about how important the Lord is to me as I put on socks, buckle sandals, then He is in the 20 minutes of congregational worship?

Isn’t it great that being a Christian is so much more than getting to church spit-shined and on time?

I think so.

(Of course, we’re aiming at 10:00 next week. Wish me luck! Ha!)

29

I’ve had a ridiculously hard time putting life into words lately — as you may have guessed, given the scarcity of writing here. I figured today would be a great time to jump back in, since today is one of those days when Life hands you an obvious writing topic:

Today I turn 29.

No, really. 29 as in yesterday I was 28 — not to be confused with 29 for the 15th time because I never want to turn 30.

Last year, my birthday was celebrated with three most special fellas, an Applewood pizza, and chocolate cake from Trader Joe’s (Ryan insisted on providing the birthday dinner!) We sat in our ridiculously small dining room, and William snuggled on my lap as we ate, because he was still a pretty young little guy.

This year, I’m 2900 miles away from that dining room. As I sit here, looking at my parents’ kitchen window at the rosiness of a new sunrise, I realize it’s not just a new day, and a new year, but a new season. So much newness! Pretty exciting.

Today I’m far away from my very, very most special fella, and I miss him. It’s been a long three weeks of being apart, and I can’t wait for Thursday, when he’ll leave the beautiful West Coast and come join us for life in this quiet corner of the world.

Today I’ll try not to be too antsy about getting into our new house — even though the closing is taking weeks longer than originally projected. That happens, right? I know that in 6 months, these few weeks won’t even matter to me, because we will have settled into family life in a new home. So instead of antsiness, I’m going to just be really, really glad that I get to spend so many days with my dearest family. That I get to hear someone singing or playing in the music room almost all day long — the part I always miss the most about this crazy house!

Today I’ll ask the Lord to help me make these short vapor-like days really count. Because 29 came really fast, and it’ll be gone before I know it, just like all the other years. Because it’s easy to think, “Oh, I’ll do that, or be like that when I’m older,” and guess what? I’m older. Because as fleeting as they are, and as insignificant as they seem, these days have the ability to carry moments that change lives. My life included.

Yeah. Lord, change me.

fruits

Sometimes I am so struck by the wonderfulness of this walk with Christ. Like, wow, what a great plan!

This past Monday, we got a whole van-load of boxes, and, knowing that was the day’s plans, I mentally rolled up my sleeves and prepared for this task of packing. I reviewed my strategy, but I also gave myself a little pep talk. The house will seem like a disaster, said I to myself. The kids will get cranky at all the wrong moments. They will unpack boxes you just filled, and will rip tape off the boxes you thought were so well sealed. Those amazing little houdinis. Tempers will probably flare, and tensions will run high, and you’ll have to remember that it’s just a season, and soon it will be over. And you’ll have to work hard at kindness and patience — more so than usual.

And that’s when I was struck.

I saw, in vivid color, as though for the first time, that kindness and patience are a fruit of the Spirit — and the Spirit will still be active and moving in our lives, even during this topsy-turvy month!

I literally teared up, and my heart just burst with happiness and relief. I can have love and joy all the time.

Love, joy, peace — they are not fruits of routine, order, and a good night’s sleep.

Against such there is no law — not even the laws of chaos, exhaustion, teething babes, and tight budgets can keep the fruits of the Spirit from growing in a willing life.

Suddenly I’ve found myself murmuring to myself —

— when it’s only 9am, and two kids are crying and whining and I’m just so tired: Joy is not the fruit of rest; it’s a fruit of the Spirit.

— when I trip over the crying baby who’s trying to climb up my [moving] legs: Kindness is not the fruit of tranquility; it’s a fruit of the Spirit.

— when little hands are reaching for me, a boy is getting into trouble, a dear husband calls his need for something, and I can’t do it all at once: Peace and love are not the fruits of manageable moments; they are fruits of the Spirit.

And if that’s true, then there’s nothing about right now that makes those fruits an impossibility. In the middle of these boxes, in the midst of any tears, above and through and in all the pressures and demands, we can experience:

love. joy. peace. patience. kindness. goodness. faithfulness. gentleness. self-control.

See what I mean about the wonderfulness of it all?

moving “back”

I hope you don’t mind me writing a bit more about this whole moving thing. I know it doesn’t have much to do with general life stuff and may not apply to your life at all — which is more my usual style — but I guess I process life this way, so… do you mind?

The most exciting part of the last month and a half has simply been the sense of the Lord leading us. Most of the time, we’re called to just be faithful — to keep on fulfilling the last orders we received. But every once in awhile, the pillar picks up and starts moving, and it is so exciting to be swept along with its movement.

That’s how this has felt.

I tried to put my finger on a very clear sense one night. I told Ryan, it doesn’t feel like we’re “moving back.” This isn’t about missing good ol’ Mom and Dad, or small town life, or whatever. Sure, we’re thrilled beyond thrilled that being near to family is part of this deal — of course! But there is such an exciting sense of having received our next assignment, of moving ahead. There is a sense of God!

I’m so eager and curious to know how He plans to knit us in. I’ve never lived in the North Country in this season of my life! I don’t know who He’ll bring into our lives, who will become the regulars around our dining room table, how He’ll lead us to get involved in church life, who my kids’ best friends [other than cousins, of course!] will be. God does know, and He’s moving us so that our lives will intersect at just the right moment with others’ lives. Isn’t that amazing?

So yeah. We’re moving back… but actually, we’re moving forward. So exciting.

making home.

I’ve been thinking about home. About how my role is to make home. And how I need to know what I’m aiming to make.

Traditions.
Culture.
Values.
Environment.

Things that go into the making of a home (and things that happen one way or the other; our job is to be proactive in shaping and making.)

There is one overarching theme in my heart when I look at that little list:

I want my kids to grow up with daily, weekly, yearly traditions of time with Jesus.
I want our home culture to be one of free expression of love for the Savior.
I want my daily, hourly activities to show that I value the Word of God and the living presence of the Holy Spirit moving in my life.
I want the environment of our home to be the warmth and peace and joy that comes from constant singing and praying and living the gospel.

All of that boils down to this:

I need to make time for the Lord.

And I know how basic that is, and I know that shouldn’t be anything new, but, well, as my dad would say, I leak. I get filled with revelation, and then next thing I know, it’s all leaked out.

So this morning, instead of any cleaning or projects or even playing with the kids, I sat at the piano and worshiped. I practiced stopping. Coming to a dead halt. Saying with my words, my actions, my whole heart that in this moment, nothing matters more than getting God.

I’m pretty sure that’s the first step in wisely building any home.

Here’s to a year of good foundation [again!].

looking back

I mentioned on Facebook that when I tried to do a little “decade in review” a few weeks ago, I drew a huge [insert Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail] blank. I got married in 2005. That I know. But before that? Wasn’t so clear on that.

So a few days ago, I pulled out a journal from 2000 (first thing to note: back then, I actually went through two, even three journals a year, as opposed to now, which is more like one every three years. *sigh*). And wow. Ten years is a lot of time.

I noted some events worth trying to remember, but mostly, actually, I realized that ten years ago was a really hard year. Life was taking lots of twists and turns and ups and downs and I was trying so hard to grow up and hold on and do the right thing. I say life, but really, I mean me. I was the roller coaster, not Life. Call me melancholy and introspective, but the reason I don’t remember much from the first 5 years of the decade is because I was so intensely grappling with who I was, what God was doing in me, who God is, and what it means to live by faith, with hope, in love.

I lived a lot of those five years feeling a bit bruised (sometimes a lot bruised), a tad confused, not always fond of the reflection in the mirror, and wondering how to get past all that and just serve Christ. And while the context of it all was a younger self that is already such a distant memory, as I read the pages of prayers cried, answers heard, and lessons learned, I realize that so much of who I am and my understanding of Christian life came out of those hard knock days.

I’m an idealist and a perfectionist when it comes to me, and it’s not always much fun to recall days of fumbles and foibles and rotten attitudes. And it’s still a bit hard for me to be thankful for life lessons when the learning came through disappointment or pain. But when I turn a tear-stained page and read His words whispered in response — words of hope and strength, faith and promise that are still Life to me every day — I realize how great a grace I’ve come to know.

All that to say, looking back to see where He’s brought me is a good exercise for me. Life hasn’t always looked the way I thought it would, for me or for others — but that’s part of the life lessons learned, part of the shoring up of this foundation I stand on, and if reminiscing brings up unanswered questions and hope disappointed, perhaps it’s yet another reminder that while we’re moving from glory to glory, the fullness has yet to be revealed. We’re living not for the next decade, but for eternity.

He truly is all that is beautiful and worth loving. A day with Him is better than thousands elsewhere.

many floods of water cannot quench Your love
not even death can separate me from You
You do not ask me to understand the power of this love
but to follow and to trust the goodness of Your hand
though the fires and storms of life threaten to consume
if i stand they’ll only serve to make me more like You
— lead me, written in 2000, in memory of jake hazelton