Five Minute Friday :: relevant

I want what I say to be pertinent to what we've been talking about.

I want what I do to relate to the growth I've lived.

I want my *life* to be relevant. 

But it isn't always about my wants and sometimes my own messiness falls splat on the pages of His-story.

Shame makes me cower and fear keeps me quiet.

I justify other people's errors as my responsibility--my yoke.

I live each moment with a mantra that we all make mistakes, and force acceptance of others.

Sometimes, though, my own inabilities to perfectly tolerate and accept make a whine that squeals louder than the roaring engine of a racing car.

My own lack makes me want to slam heavy on the gas and drive away, far out of view and way beyond earshot.

When I'm not relevant...
When I'm not perfect...

He keeps making my life meaningful
     and even uses my weakness for good. 

The reality of His {Grace}...now that's *relevant.* 

Join A {Grace} full *life* facebook community.

living toward healing

Nearly three weeks ago I wrote about the *freedom to forgive* and the premise was about my father. Courageously, I chose to See that forgiveness sets people free--the one being forgiven, and the one extending the forgiveness.

Since then, pain in my heart has been awakened. Band-aids have been removed and scabs have been exposed. The wounds remain as hardened, blistered sores.

I've looked with envy at the relationships of others and longed for what I don't have with my own father. I've felt left out, lonely. Lies have surfaced telling me that all I do is make a mess of things, when really all I try to do is right things.

I've seen how my fears of making a mistake and of people being mad at me, they both are directly tied to my hurt--of always feeling like I make matters worse with my family, and how what I do makes them turn their backs on me and shut me out.

The way I've had a compulsion for order and control, it's because of what I've lived. And I know to not make excuses--to *own* my part--and I know I should live differently; live with more flexibility and get over those hurts.

But I can't.

The hurt remains.

I can't make myself heal.
I can't just decide to make myself change and expect it to happen.
I can't make myself trust in a different way of living, and never fall back into the tendency to fear and question.

Seeing this, I recognized something I never had the courage to admit.
I am not just plain jealous of others.

I. Am. Mad. At God--my Father. 

I want to be like her. I want to live like he says I should. I want to be changed--forever. And I don't understand why I am not healed of all of this, yet.

For so many years I have known there is a better way of living, I've known what it is, and I've *decided* that I am going to make changes.

Folks say "just put your mind to it," and I've believed it. I've even surrendered to Him, leaned into trusting even this is *for purpose,* yet--the hurt remains.

Truth is, we can't sustain lie-living. It's a lie to masquerade as someone who I am not, and far too often I've lied mostly to myself. I can't just convince myself that I am healed. I can't just get over the pain in my heart.

I can't just say I forgive and expect change. It's a process--it's life lived.

People say I am too hard on myself. I hear that as I need to forgive my weaknesses.

So, I do. And yet, the pain is so deep; I don't have the tools to plunge it all out.

I've told my Father that I want to be healed...I long for reconciliation...I don't need apologies...and I've chosen to forgive.

So much goodness has come into my heart as a result of these choices.

Beauty has bloomed.
Walls in my heart have shattered--I've literally heard them crash.
Chains have unlocked and I've {begun} to live in Freedom.

I believe in surrender. I believe He is worthy of our trust.

But I also believe that He allows pain for purpose, we can't just decide to rid ourselves of it--He has to do the rest; He has to finish the story as He designed it.

I've tried to make the healing happen by my own, and I can't.

Beauty is seen more magnificently on the darkest of canvas. My understanding of this is in the most personal ways of my heart.

He stands-in where my imperfection lives. 
He fills the gap--heals and makes whole. 

And in the mean time, I trust that He uses all for purpose, including my pain and strangled relationships.

I am not sure I want to give my Father another day with my heart. And yet, He's the keeper of it.

When I am honest with Him that I am mad He hasn't done what I think He should have done in me by now, He looks at me with Grace. He lets me feel that way.

Thank you, Father, for all of this. I lean into Truth: All. Is. For. Purpose...even. this. 
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Gratitude for {Grace}...

...the Boy-Man's tears over his Poppy being called into work...

...and the understanding that washes over him when *truth* is told: people are being helped by this sacrifice of time...

...neighbors sharing practically a *boat-load* of blueberries they spent time picking...

...strength for a long run...

...football season and something *fun* to talk about with my groom...

...a *free-ish* family vacation from points-saved during work travel...

...imagining loving a four-legged creature...

...a connection with grace-lovers...


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Join A {Grace} full *life* facebook community.

All. In. Today.

Whenever I suggest something will be a surprise, the Boy-Man asks "What is it?"

He can't wait. Surprises aren't his thing. He wants to know more.

How big will his ice cream be?, he wonders. And yet, there is a too big for his little tummy and he knows his limits.

One of the nights this week I'll be making something different for dinner. It's a surprise. And the Boy-Man can't stand not knowing. I could tell him, but then he might complain before he even realizes the goodness in the surprise. He needs to wait and trust me, because the dinner will be extra yummy and especially good for us. My Father is the same way.

He has *surprises* for me that are good for me.

While running a few morning's ago, I think about this idea. I ask my Father how big the *Ice Cream* will be, what flavor it will be, and how much. And, when? I want to know more. I can't stand not knowing the details.

Of course, Ice Cream is an analogy for what was on my heart. And admittedly I've made an idol out of it.

The longing is so big and so heavy that it weighs on my every day.

I expect we will have another child someday, and I live today anticipating that day--Tomorrow. Decisions whether to keep this or that hinge on the future child in my mind.

Scooping up the sweetness in each day, I imagine what days moving forward will be like if we were to have *this* experience again, with another child.

Though I think I haven't, it's obvious I have...made the future out to be dessert, instead of savoring the treat in each day. Looking for what is to {might} come, without even being absolutely certain.

I've made requirements for my life--that my joy today has hinged on visions, as if they are actually real, and that once those visions come alive I'll have the triple-scoop-amazingly-delicious-knock-your-socks-off-dessert. I'm ashamed at what I've done.

And it's too much. I've suffocated my today's with imaginings of tomorrow's. The sundae is too much for me to even imagine savoring.

Even though I firmly believe my Father placed those dreams within me, I must remember it isn't up to me to keep them alive.

If it's His will, it will be in His time. I needn't do anything to make {sure} it happen.

I can live in freedom for Today and trust Him for Tomorrow...what. ever. it may look like.  

And truly, I needn't worry about Tomorrow.

I can bask in Today for what it is--future or no future, this is what I have.

Just like I know spinach intermixed within a surprisingly delicious blend of tomatoes and bacon will be good for my child, my Father knows what's good for me. He knows what will nourish me and help me to grow.

In case I don't get it, He gives me an image on our morning run together--an image that shocks me and ripples awe through me over His power.

I picture me with another child, and yet my husband has died.

{GASP!}

He asks me, What if I provide you with another child, yet take your husband's life first? I have a plan for you, and it is for *purpose*; it will look completely different than you can ever imagine, beloved. Trust. Me.

My Father has been softly talking to my heart lately about His timing and how His timing isn't just for me. His plan is bigger and sometimes there are things He wants to do in other people's lives, beyond my own.

What if that's how it'll be? I can't even allow myself to focus on this possibility. Yet, I understand what I need to do. I must surrender into Today.

He wants me *All. In. Today.*

My Father's *surprises* for me are good enough to wait for, even if they appear yucky or too painful to swallow. And in the waiting, I am growing patience...for Today.

And in slurping up Today, I am nourished more by His love for me.

a guest post: {a raw awakening}

My spirit has gone through a dark, cold season where the story I've lived has struggled to see His grace.  In my struggling, I've been led to read back through the years of my life-story and *see* where I've been covered with my Father's love - His protection. His grace.  

During the cold winter months it seemed as though new growth was dormant, buried underneath the frozen ground, waiting to become awakened by the warmth of the sunshine and melting snow.

I'm more able to trust Him now.  The dark, cold season was His grace.

Read more of my {raw awakening} where I'm guest-posting over at (in)courage today.  

Rich blessings as you breathe in His goodness for you...                    
                        I pray you *see* Jesus in your living this week and remember His Story.  

If you've never before visited (in)courage, 

I encourage you to visit. often.

It's a safe place where I hear God's voice - 

clearer than perhaps anywhere else.  

Check it out...

Sometimes it takes awhile

Seeing God's Hand sometimes takes awhile.  A long while.

Really understanding and believing that He is good, sometimes that takes awhile to believe.  To see that He has a plan and that it isn't to harm, but to bring goodness - this comes through living life a little.  And to see that His Story for us isn't over - isn't complete - and that He uses everything to bring beauty and peace to lives beyond our own.  Life needs to be lived sometimes all the way to Heaven, and sometimes just a couple of seasons changes.

I lost a daughter nearly nine years ago.  She was nourished by me and lived inside me for just fourteen weeks.  Her life was big enough to fill dreams years long.  It was a long enough time to think I felt her movements.

We hadn't known we would be having a daughter until after her delivery, at my postpartum check-up several weeks later.  I was by myself when the doctor told me, a girl.  We decided against testing beyond chromosomal-stuff and made efforts to get on with our life as quickly as possible, while also allowing ourselves some time to grieve.  Getting back on the horse was all I could think about, and so I mustered all I could to get myself back to work relatively quickly after lying in bed and crying for days.

For two weeks straight I cried every single day.  I couldn't understand what had happened.  The life that was growing inside of me, with a real heart beat...suddenly stopped.

Since then, I've been on a mission to find out what happened.  Why did that life just stop living?

I didn't denounce God.  I didn't question that He took her from us.  I just forgot to think that He was involved in this at all.  I just never thought about how He had a role - that He allowed this, that He chose this.  

Recently I've gotten a smidge closer to finding out what might have possibly happened to my baby girl's life.  It's possible that I contracted Fifths Disease and her little body wasn't yet strong enough to stave off the affects of the disease, and so perhaps it struck her heart.  If Fifths Disease is to blame, her little body likely was exposed to the virus for weeks and slowly her body was attacked until her heart couldn't muster another beat.

At the same time my mystery could possibly be solved, I've also gotten to a point where I realize that it doesn't matter.  I don't need to know.  I see - truly see - that God was in this, and He continues to be in this even now.  He is a Good God who wants nothing more than for us to trust Him.

Trust has been so hard for me, just as it is for so many people.  I've had a few instances when I thought I might be pregnant and the latest one rings loundly in my mind as I remember the angst I felt.  Such fear.  What if I lose another?  I can't bear to lose another.  What if we lose another and then we can't find the strength to try again?  I was so fearful I couldn't even take the risk.

The fear was paralyzing.

I think of our little boy-man and how he's got such a nearly perfect health.  And I think I don't want to tempt fate, and then I'm ashamed for thinking that way.  God was in my little boy-man's life and even if he didn't have all the health he does, God would still be in the creation of his life.  God would still be Good.  God's Goodness doesn't change.

I've heard God is good for most of my life.  I've sang it and shouted it, but I'm not sure I ever really believed it, until recently.

Now I see that God is Good.

God doesn't want to hurt me.  God was in this.  God continues to be in this.  And, His Story for me isn't over.

He makes beauty from ashes.

God is so much bigger than the medical charts that my doctor is still chasing down.  God is so much bigger than percentages.  God is so much bigger than even my pain, and my confusion, and my fear, and my doubt, and my questions.

I'm being led to a place of greater Trust.  It's such a freeing place to trust in God's Goodness and His Love and His Peace.  Surrendering my need to know and my idolizing the medical doctors, I see just how personal God is and how close He is to me.  And how He knows - So. Much. More.

It's taken awhile to truly trust God for that baby's early passing - the passing of my daughter.  I'm still finding it hard sometimes and when I think that her life was so short and ended too early, His soft and gentle voice very quickly tells me "Who are you to know?"  And I'm thankful.  I'm thankful that God knows better than me and that He uses this brief life to show so much about Him.  And, that my baby girl's life didn't have to be prolonged here on Earth to get to Forever Life in Heaven.

We don't know what we don't know, and I didn't know just how good God is and He knew it.  He knew it'd take me all this time to get to where I am now - acceptance of His Plan and trust in His Hand.  And yet, I still don't quite know the fullness of His Goodness, and so I take a Risk to Trust that He has a plan and it's to help me know Him more.

The truth is, sometimes it takes a whole lot of hurt and ugliness to even begin to display His radiance.  Such a painful truth.  So hard to say yes to and choose trust.

These days I'm reading a book about God's Grace in everything and how thankfulness leads us to knowing about His Glory.  It's a beautifully written book that affirms what He's told me all along, and I'm grateful for the heart of thankfulness that I was given, oh so long ago.  A heart that inately knows all gifts come from Him - even painful ones.  

A blogger friend told me that "There is no new truth.  Only new voices."  What I read and what I write isn't new when it comes to the truth about God's Grace.  I'm so thankful for how He uses our differences in voices to get through to us, to cut through the noise and help us to trust.

I'm so thankful for the years He allows and uses to patiently wait for me to see His goodness.  


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Gifts of Gratitude...


...a pat on the tush...
...thoughtfulness of a husband to include me in his schedule...
...phone chats with new friends...
...neighborhood friends for the little one...
...the laughter of children...
...pizza on Sunday...on the floor...watching a new-to-us sport...
...me-time to write...
...making Valentine's for my boy-man...
...seeing how the way I love our boy is love to my groom...
...tooth fairy visits...
...cold, wet feet from melting snow...
...being seen and kept safe on a run at daybreak...
...the surprise of mild temperatures in the middle of February...
...cushioned running shoes...
...help to make the boy's lunch...
...watching a true story of a young boy's fight with cancer, and the tears it brought to our eyes...
...sweet treats...
...pumpkin bread in February...