Dance

I don't remember doing much of it as a child.

Prim and proper seemed to be more of what I focused on. Following the rules and such.

In the growing, something really miraculous has spun me wild. 
Much more care free. Intensely free.

I call life the *whirl and twirl* because it spins so fast sometimes, like a tornado in a lot of ways.
Yet, it's a delicate and beautiful dance.

Real living requires freedom. 

The steps don't have to be choreographed. They just need to have a rhythm.

Beauty flows endlessly here.

In Middle School I was afraid to dance.

Once, a boy I liked back then actually offered to pay a friend of mine to teach me how to dance.
I shirked and hid in my embarrassment.

Life has me dancing a lot these days. 

The Boy-Man I like now suggests that I dance free. He invites it and encourages it.

Love envelopes me and fear does the shirking now.

That's what Peace does. It wraps you up and spins you wild. 

Today's post is part of my friend, Lisa-Jo's fun challenge each Friday to 

     "Write for five, short, bold beautiful minutes... 

     Unscripted and unedited...

     Without worrying if it's just right or not."

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real

Living, for me, only masquerades as something it isn't for a short while.

Eventually the real me creeps out of the hole I've burrowed.

I usually come out dancing as though nothing happened.

When I get over my insecurities for a brief moment, living really is like a dance to me.

Generous heaping's of goofiness overwhelm me, most of the time, when I'm not so serious. Behind closed doors to my neighbors, I have wildish dance parties with my Boy and laughing is my regular ab work.

To keep it real means I tap my toes to the sound of the beat--
Watching a movie. TV show. Or even a commercial.

To keep it real means I feel shackled when my voice won't allow me to sing along with the music. 

Lately I've been dehydrated. Of self confidence.

Questioning a career will do that, or inconsistencies of a manager.
Or even the buzz of child gossip and bullying, or confusing coaches.

Life, in general, can extinguish confidence. 

Along with that, I had three days with a voice barely at mouse-like pitch, though some moments I sounded more like a baby gremlin.

Allergies will do that to a person--building up to a sinus infection and then closing off the larynx.

Life, in general, can make a body sick.

In my comfort living these past few days--legs horizontal on the couch and mug of tea in my hands--I've enjoyed the stillness and quietness.

I've begun to appreciate who I am a little bit more than I had been in a while. 

The real me thinks through things, and then thinks them through again. And again. Over thinking every thing.

When I look around and see how decisions seem easy for some people, I want to kick myself for making the simple so complicated.

But, when I am able to sit and relax without the chaos of life *whirling and twirling* around me, I am grateful for the real me who knows a decision of any kind is torturous for me.

Ask me my favorite any thing and you'll probably get a dissertation on how I don't have "favorites"--and it's because I just can't decide.

Maybe my decisions are based on my mood.

Or, maybe it's because I like {most} every thing.

One thing is for sure, I have a real passion for life. 
Most every thing about it excites me. 

And it's why I never have writers block or have angst about my writing.

For me, there is always something real to share. 

: : 

This was going to be a Five Minute Friday contribution at my friend Lisa-Jo's place. Friday became Saturday. And five minutes became 15. 

The sound of B.O.Y. banged from upstairs and the stillness of downstairs invited me to type a little longer...until said Boy crashed my quiet with his loud and didn't have an ounce of awareness. 

The irony is how *real* this moment is to me--my longing for quiet and the Boy's indulgence in loud...and how later I notice his head slowly and quietly peeking around the corner into my space and I think, he really does hear my ranting and he really does care!

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how I plan to spend my time at home

Expectations tell me to enjoy.

Craving Rest, I long for nothingness.

Video games playing. Movie watching. Family visiting. Workout forgo-ing.

Plans are imagined, developed, frosted and decorated.

So delicious-looking that I can't even bring myself to touch them.
These plans are just as fake as the adornments.

There may be rushing about and boredom,
and probably some shouting and crying.

We might wish we could run to school or work.

Reality will run her course.

Some things are for certain.

Peace will follow me. 
Love will lead me. 
Grace will free me.

Expectations will dissolve and perfection-seeking will crumble.

Those idols never last long--
     always the first to break, the ones I adorn the most.

He'll find me when I forget.
He'll comfort me when I cry.

And, I'll adore--Always. Adore.

In simple ways His beauty will be found.
And I will See *purpose*, even in my mess.

During my time home this week, I'll be living in a very real way. 
Simply and truly living.

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living gratefully :: color

I took a risk today.

Stepping out from behind the veil of comfort, I said what my heart believes.

I'm not in the job that best supports my strengths. 

Sure, the current job I'm in is good for me...
   it helps me grow and challenges me.

But, it's not the job.

At 30-something years old, I'm not ready to be comfortable.

*Color* opens my mind to different possibilities. 

Thoughts and dreams are awakened.

It's *color* that helps me See my heart.

It's *color* that gives me reason to stand up and step forward.

Offering myself up to something Different, I declare that my life isn't all the same. There are vivid colors that are a part of this masterpiece.

What may seem to be me just might not be me, entirely.

Maybe this truth is why I struggle to pick my favorite color. Sometimes blues call my name, sometimes green, and sometimes even bold red and orange.

Only when I choose Courage, do I pause to consider those bold colors.

Color helps remind us that there are other aspects to living...
     ...other parts of ourselves...
     ...other characteristics, traits, quirks, and even strengths to consider.

If I just keep doing the same thing all the time and expect the same result, forgetting or neglecting to acknowledge that I've been growing in the living--then, I'm just not being fair to myself and to who He created me to be.

For color, I am grateful. And this is my worship.

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living gratefully :: honesty

I offer up a confession: I'm scared of myself.

Tomorrow is my birthday and I'm trying to live joyfully. 

But, I'm so dang betwixed with myself. 

I might wake up and be *in a mood*. 

For those who've followed my writing, authentic is what they comment about me. Many people express how they are so captivated by how I can put myself out there. 

Here's the kicker--I still live in shame for who I am.

Being *authentic* is hard.

I know Truth and Love, and Grace and Peace, and Freedom, too! 

At least enough to know what they taste like. 

I've felt them and basked in them. Snuggled up and abandoned all self for their truth (at least for a moment or two). 

What I write about so often, I believe. 

[Though, admittedly for you much more than for me.] 

Yet, Fear never goes away. Shame, either. 

Both can be minimized and dissipate for awhile, but never completely gone as long as I'm living this side of Heaven.

To expect any different is to expect perfection 

     ...and to not need Him. 

It shouldn't surprise me that I still struggle. 

Truth brings me to my knees in gratitude--I do still need Him.

I'm just blessedly tired of being so...

     Imperfect, is that it? 

This year my birthday is a fun day on the calendar: 11/11/11. 

Twice it will be 11:11. 

And so, I invited 11 friends to celebrate with me. 

I am excited to throw myself a party. 

I plan to get balloons and make my own cake. 

I might even buy myself flowers. (And I just might pull out the nail polish.) 

We'll have pizza. On paper plates. 

(Cause I'm choosing easy over pleasy, and that's a *big deal* for me.)

But...

The closer I get to my blessed day, the more nervous I am. 

And though it feels a little sad to admit this truth, it's freeing to get it out there in the wide open. 

So, there--now you know, honestly I'm nervous about my own birthday. 

For one thing, my birthday has been an awkward time in my life, ever since I was a freshman in college. The day after the {fake} celebration of my own life, I chose to end the life of another teeny-tiny-one. 

I've received the fullness of forgiveness over that. 

The memory remains and I believe for purpose. For gratitude over His mercies and amazing grace. I say that simply, yet it's not without acknowledging the incredibly long journey it took to really believe this. 

The first year I was a mom when it was my birthday, I was lonely. Still on maternity leave, my groom went to work and I was struggling with admitting how hard it was to admit how hard it was. (yes, you read that right.) 

I remember going downstairs to find a picture frame. Unwrapped. Standing upright on the table. It was a simple gift. A picture of my baby-Boy and his daddy-Man-Boy, and a small card to say he was Hoping I would feel differently about my birthday now. Affirming a reason for my life.

The picture still moves me--how the gentleness of my groom is so evident.

But it's the tiny card that means the most. 

The words were few, but the Truth so big. 

My life does have purpose. Deep meaning. 

I cling to that. Again and again.
(Because sometimes I struggle to believe it.)

I wrap it around me like the blanket my son grabbed when I tucked him in last night. Snuggling up all peace and sound. 

Father, your healing--let it rain. 

One of my closest, most dearest, truly best, friends is coming to visit me. 

I'm so excited. But, I'm nervous, too. 

Our communication with each other is primarily through the written word. We savor the words we share and squeeze the life out of them. I love this friend. So. Much. I'm so grateful for what God has done in our friendship. 

Still, though, shame tells me that I'm too much and maybe we will be disappointed in our weekend together. I'm nervous, though I promised not to let fear have a foothold. 

My other best friend is like a thousand miles away and I miss her like stinkin' crazy. (that's a tone she'd use, and so in her honor I toast to the word stinkin'--love ya, Kate!) 

I invited this friend to come to my party and I was nervous to do that because I know that she can't afford to fly up here. 

Shame told me how dare you even invite her. How could you point out to her that she can't?! 

I'm nervous that I might not hear from my father. It's been months since he's written, and even longer since it's been anything feeling of love and closeness. Out of sight, out of mind, right? It's a bit true as the days *whirl and twirl*.

Yet, I'm nervous that I will hear from him, too. I don't even know what I want. 

I'm afraid of remembering the pain that's tucked in deep. Still not gone. Feelings still raw. 

Why does this happen? 

I wish I was a girl who got over herself. 

I wish I was completely healed. 

I wish I didn't expect anything from anyone. 

I wish God was my only god. 

I wish I could embrace true friends.

I wish I could envelop myself in their real love for me.

I wish I believed it when I say friend. 

I wish I wasn't finding myself making excuses to cancel the party. 

There's purpose in this. I have to believe. And I chose to. 

*Purpose* in the doubt. 

*Purpose* in the fear. 

*Purpose* in the stepping out and even trying to {fake} a party.

Just saying it's my birthday is totally not me. Totally. Not. Me. 

Truth is, a few years ago I hid my birth-date on Facebook and whenever anyone wished me a happy birthday that way, I'd delete it. 

(Even from my best friend.)

Last year's birthday was kind of lonely. And I discovered that I hurt myself by not giving others an opportunity to affirm me, even if Facebook feels somewhat totally impersonal. 

And so, this year I'm throwing it all out there. In this space, on Facebook, on Twitter. I'm actually telling colleagues. I'm screaming it to the roof tops that it's my birthday on 11/11/11. 

{At least for this year. Cause, 11/11/11 is my fun excuse.}

So, if you're led to, I'd totally appreciate your prayers. 

     For my Joy, Peace, Freedom. 

     For my acceptance of who I am right now.

I've me another true, good friend who I just learned a lot about in the past few days. I learned that she knows me way better than I ever gave her credit for. She's a friend who I feel the most shame around because I know she accepts me as I am, yet I know she notices me, and it makes me nervous because she never says much of anything to me about what she sees. 

This friend called me out yesterday on my indecisiveness. 

She celebrated how this is who I am. 

I made her feel badly for stating the truth...

     because the truth made me feel shame. 

She'll be at my party tomorrow. 

And I'm thrilled, because Truth tells me she accepts me

     --as wishy-washy-indecisive as I am, 

        she still accepts me *justthewayIam.* 

Honesty is my gratefulness, and this is my worship. 

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living gratefully :: understanding

when I lean low and tell the Boy that I understand his feelings, something moves in him.

I explain to him that I feel very much the same.
I tell him that it makes me sad that he's sad.

There's a glimmer of relaxing in his shoulders and peace washed across his face.

It's amazing {Grace} to him. That he's understood.

He doesn't have to put on airs. He doesn't have to fake it.
He can be free in living his feelings.

The Boy is only seven and though he doesn't realize any of this {yet}, as his mother I intercede for his feelings on his behalf.

I help him Find them. Name them. Own them.

Ask the Boy how he's doing and you'll likely get the same answer: Fine.

But if you lean low and invite him to be honest...
...invite him to really dig deep and share...
...tell him he can tell you anything...
...maybe ask a few questions that seem unrelated (yet they are)...
...and maybe even share your own story...

Truth comes out--timidly, yet forward she walks.

Like my dog who is nervous of {mostly} all things, fear of being honest makes a person cower. Knees shaking and head hanging low, moving forward is achingly difficult.

*Understanding* softens those feelings; rubs the neck and loosens the tense muscles fear knots up.

Muscles need to be worked and *Understanding* helps massage them, give warmth and energy.

*Understanding* gives Freedom to live.

When I'm too quick to respond...too questioning...too demanding...too manager-like and less leader-like...too accusatory...too prideful...too opinionated...too critical...

Freedom freezes up and an army stands ready at the defense.

Yet, when *Understanding* flashes bright colors through dark, broken, bitter me...

     Freedom swims--in pools of Grace.

And I See.

I See Him more clearly, living out through me.

And it can only be Him. Certainly not me.

Choosing *Understanding* because He gives me the strength, this is my Worship and I live it gratefully.

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when relationship is worship

I once lived in a house with seven other girls.

It was one girl's friendship toward me that encouraged me to do it. She expressed an interest in me. I remember how she was so nice to me. I remember it as the first time someone wanted me to do something with them. This girl quickly became a real life friend.

Yet, one day, specifically, I remember not wanting her in my life.
I couldn't let her *in.*

This friend and I both left for classes at the same time and we'd often walk together. But on one particular day, and maybe for several days, I couldn't do it. I had to walk way ahead of her. I'd rush out of the house to avoid her.

Though we never talked about it, I knew my attitude toward my friend was less than grateful and heavy on the leave-me-alone side.I'm not sure what I was dealing with that would keep her out, but I remember how I felt with the wall between us.

I needed her and I missed her.

Why is it that friends keep quiet when they need *relationship* the most?

Do we fear we won't be accepted?

That girl became one of my best friend's. She sang in my wedding and stood by my side as I committed to Every. Day. with my forever-groom. She's stood in the gap for me and accepted me with arms wide open and a heart of understanding.

Years later, I was married and she wasn't (yet), and I lost a baby four months into my pregnancy. I struggled in thinking that I deserved this fate and at the same time, I prepared myself to keep my friend out.

After delivering a baby way too early and coming home empty handed, I sent an email to several people with my best friend in mind. I didn't want any phone calls and didn't want to talk about it. My announcement was an arm extended with a message to keep away. To this day we still have hardly talked about it.

Why do we allow ourselves to hurt *longer*
instead of seeking comfort from those who care?

Do we fear we won't be understood?
Do we fear we won't be given freedom to live our own way?

My mom has recently learned the news that her best childhood friend has been living a scary year--her husband has brain cancer. It hurt her to find out her friend is hurting.

In learning the heart aching news, my mom realized that she hadn't let her best friend know of her own heart break nearly a year ago--her own mother's death. Yet, she'd hop a plane or drive a day away if she knew her friend needed her.

Why are friends often shared with only when it's *safe*?

Do other people's stories make us think our own story isn't
worthy enough? 

Questions begin to fill my mind...

Why we keep out people who love us?
Why do we shy away from sharing bad news?
Why is *life* not shared?

I can't help but wonder why we do this to ourselves.
And most especially, I can't help but think about Worship.

When we reach out and share our story...

...when we call and tell the truth...
...when we admit our weakness...
...when we admit our imperfection--our humanness...
...when we lean on another...

We honor the One who created it all.

And most especially, we give permission to others
{Grace}
to Worship *free* in the Real. 

That honors Him the most, I think.

Telling. {and} Inviting. 

{After all, He did tell us to Go and Tell, right?}


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a willingness to surrender

Sometimes things happen that aren't a result of our weakness or inabilities. It isn't that we aren't good enough for the job or the promotion.

It could be that it just wasn't right for us, at the time.

Hardship happens and it isn't fair. 

Life seems easier for some people; they seem more blessed.

(And thank God for that because I'd have to give up an awful lot to get a little more even with some people who have what seems like absolutely Nothing.)

The hard truth is that *easy* lacks depth. 

When my groom and I have a challenging moment and we're caught in the headwind of a brutal storm, there have been moments when I have been grateful for the ways the winds brought us together.

Hunkered down with no place to run, it feels like fleeing is our better choice. Yet, our protection from the storm is in our closeness--in our staying through the weathering.

Where we're willing to talk and not run away is like the eye of the storm--a thin place where we're able to see more clearly as life *whirls and twirls* around us.

We always seem stronger after storms.

The remnants of the winds are reminders of the raging threat to our lives, and our togetherness--our life--is a reminder of Grace.

I've a friend who has had many storms in her young years of marriage. She's questioned God and she's teetered on giving up. Her heart has tried to trust and she's felt shaky in her faith.

There have been times when I've felt so strongly that maybe running away from the storm would be better for my friend.

I've forgotten that running can be deadly.

Through surviving incredible history-making storms, I've come to see that there is Purpose. There is blessing. There is Grace. 

Storms have this amazing ability to bring people together in the most amazing ways. Hearts open wide and reveal raw fear, and in that place of sheer terror for the gusts that seem to threaten life itself, trust is in the slight flicker of a candle--the Light that makes staying more bearable.

With rains pouring down, there's safety in the walls where there's togetherness.

This friend of mine has held her breath through howling winds of one bad choice after another and trudged through mucky waters of financial disaster--the residual of storms that have hardly seemed tropical.

My friend has lived to tell the story.

All along she's been blessed. Enormously.

She's seen evidence of God's provision in the seemingly least likely of places. She's given thanks for the bread she's eaten, each piece savored as though it might be her very last. And though grey skies and flood warnings continue to prevail, she will grow even still.

There are incredible things we learn through living a Storm.

Sometimes, the beauty that grows is most appreciated by those who have seen entire lands wiped clean and feared there couldn't possibly ever be life grown there again.

When life blooms anyway and harvests are bountiful where it seemed nearly impossible, there is enormous thanksgiving--a sharing of the story of how it came to be. This is beautiful, living worship.

Storms challenge Courage to rise up to insurmountable depths. 

Hearts that have had replacements are the ones often times most appreciated. The ones that have been compromised and threatened are the ones most counted as blessed.

The truth is that all hearts are blessed.

Sometimes we just need to be willing to surrender every bit of our land for our *living* to grow. 

Even if a new job seems like the {nearly perfect} forecast for our days, it could be that the rain and togetherness in the storm is what we need most.
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a restful spectator

Life is not a spectator sport.

But sometimes we are invited to sit back and watch the game unfold.

Sure, we do the living, but our story isn't based on us.

There are others in the *play book* and The Coach has a purpose for their place in your life.

He also knows what's best and it's for more than you See Now.

We can learn a lot by taking a seat and surrendering the title of *Star Player.*

May your journey this weekend invite you to Sit. Back.,
and watch the *plays of life* unfold with brilliant execution. 

In. Joy. 
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Five Minute Friday :: in real life...

It's Friday and I'm aching--my body still recovering from a {different} vacation, clouds and fog overwhelming me in an incredibly rainy week. Reaching for awake and alert is harder this week. My heart tender with life, I reach for writing. 

The challenge on this day each week is for just five minutes...and I can't. I need more today. Friday's are Freedom Day for me, and so I receive it and write for as long as my heart needs. 

The prompt my dear friend provides in her challenge...it's just so good! 

in real life...

Challenging marriages, and children.

Holding hands.

Painful hearts, and backs.

Tea with friends.

Hardship.

Laughing until bellies hurt.

Tears over burned dinner, and stuff destroyed.

Happiness over friends remembering.

Aching legs.

Piggybacks.

Fatigue so badly eyes blur.

Giddiness over school buses.

Letting go.

In life, Stuff. Happens. 

Sometimes Easy. Or Easier.
Sometimes Hard. And Harder.

In *Real Life* there is a blending of emotions, a road with steady hills to climb and soar down.

Sometimes living is harder than it needs to be.

I'm learning about this as I ride my bike, understanding how I need to surrender to [the bike], letting it do the work. I need to select a gear where I can spin instead of suffer. I need to clip my shoes in, so that my feet can push and pull in a continuous circle.

I'm Seeing how I need to be clipped in to His Spirit--keeping me steady and smooth. And I need to let Him lead me--be my gear--as even *happiness* can be too much, too exhausting.

Real *living* requires real surrender. 
______________________________

I'm so glad to link over with The Gypsy Mama and so many other beautiful, real hearts. Join me there?

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closing the gap

We were at a water park with lots of people around us. Still, though, his hands found my body.

Random touches in hidden moments--I felt like a Newly-in-love again.

Our overnight at our family's little camp on the lake was cut short by a day.
My groom had a purpose--he wanted his bride.

It takes effort to live this way--to deliberately choose togetherness.

And it isn't about the feeling. It's about the staying. It's about the remembering and reaching.

There's a space we allow in between us as life *whirls and twirls* around us.
And the *reaching* {for another}, closes up the gap.

Deliberately choosing to reach a little further and snuggle up a little closer, awakens the sense of touch as if she were newly-born.

This life really can be lived closely together, as one.

And that, my friends, is what this past week's vacation has done to me--it has reminded me of the closeness of being newly-in-love, the never-wanting-to-stop touching and reaching, and how it evokes truth of *being wanted.*

My groom and I live most days in awareness that our moments together aren't our own.
We kiss and hug, saying I love you--even just to go to the store.
But, space tends to open wider as the days peel back layers of responsibility.

A week's vacation from the office covered us with a marriage-quilt of togetherness. 

Our Boy-Man is at an age that changes the dynamic of our relationship with each other. It's a little easier to do more things in a together kind of way.

While our boy stole a moment by himself playing without our lessons as his constant, we unwrapped a moment of lying together on the carpeted office floor--talking about life and home, and really simple-ish nothingness. It was the *choosing* that mattered.

We seized it this week--the closing of the gap. 

Sometimes a vacation helps us remember it takes *work* to live-together, and there can be Joy in the office.

We savor the last drippings of the served up deliciousness of summer and even though life will begin to *whirl and twirl* a little faster, we are reminded that we can keep close and live this life, Together.

We can remember Today was birthed from our early-in-love story of Grace.

It truly makes all the difference in my living when I pay attention to my groom's reaching...when I feel his touching...when I choose to place him as more important than my rushing on to the next thing, and pause to reach for him.

Love isn't a feeling...
but, unwrapping the feelings of being wanted,
and seizing the truth that I. am. {wanted}...
This is *freedom* for the living. 

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Gratitude for {Grace}...

...fun spent together...

...space in our days to just work on *us*...

...lazy summer days...

...the experience of being in the moment...

...being wanted...

...the intimacy of *communicating*...

...drippings of summer's sweetness...

...anticipation of another week together...



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An obsession for Control

Recently I read The Muir House, written by Mary DeMuth. The story gripped me and held on tightly long after the pages ran out of words. 

I've been thinking a lot about this book in particular and how it relates to my life. I am really looking introspectively to see how I could grow more and how I have grown in the days that led me up to the reading.

As I reflect upon this read, I invite you to join me in the discussion. Get yourself a copy of the book and invite others to do the same. And pop in--anytime--to share some of the topics that have bubbled up for me through this book. 

[I'll do my best not to reveal too many specifics about the book for those of you haven't read it yet, and this place will try to stay topic focused.] 

And, by the way, if you *like* Mary DeMuth's Community Page on Facebook, you'll find lots of opportunities to win the book through various avenues.

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One of the central themes in The Muir House centers around Control--a biggie for many of us.

Willa, the main character, wrestles with hateful words that swirl in her head--words spoken to her from years past. The words give Willa a sense of Power and Entitlement, making her exercise Control over the distance she keeps from the person who spoke them.

She feels as though she owns *the right* to turn her back, even on family; after all, she was hurt--her heart shredded by the one person who should have sheltered her. Willa clings to Controlling the boundaries she creates in her heart; she's adamant she won't let that person in, or anyone else who just causes her hurt and confusion.

Yet, Willa feels a tug to know more about the life she's lived as a child. She is Obsessed with knowing more and longs for Control over the details. Willa can't control the memories from surfacing and make sense of them, and maybe if she knows the specifics of her childhood, she can make sense of her life. Maybe she can understand *why* she struggles the way she does.

Fear can rumble and blare in the shadows of living. And for Willa, she couldn't embrace her Now and live for the future when she couldn't control her Past. She wrestles with who she is and what she wants her life to become--who she *should* be and what she *should* do.

Willa wants to Control her future and she's afraid. 

Dreams. Hopes. Longings. We all have them. And we all question God's will and purpose as we sift through the visions of our heart. Sometimes we can't help to look back on our living and wonder what place these dreams have in our lives, and why are they there? 

Words spoken by another have cut into my heart deep. I have oozed out confusion, like Willa. I have bled hurt. I, too, have felt entitled to use that pain against hope--holding it up with entitlement and desperately clinging to Control over what a relationship is and what it could become.

Fear of being hurt and of my dreams being influenced by the person who causes me pain has been my motivation for Control.

Like Willa, I have questioned How I should live, Who I should be, What I should do. I have wrestled with the unknown details and lived a quest to know pieces of my life that would help me Control the future, all because I didn't have Control of the past.

Living forward is scary when memories haunt us. We want to sever ourselves from their place in our lives, and yet perhaps there's *purpose* in it all.

• What do you think about Control? 
• How have you seen evidence of it in your own life, or another person's? 
• Have you been obsessed with Control? 
• Have you lived in Fear over the future? 

[Join the discussion next week on Chapters 5-9.]

how to help a daughter grieve

It's Friday and on these days I am reminded to let go of the perfection-seeking. Just. Write.

Usually these days are reserved for Five Minutes of pure writing. Today, is a bit different. I woke up at 4:30 and decided to get right up. I've been soaking up this time, watching the sunrise and just reflecting.

As the Son and I watched the sky illuminate with brilliance this morning, I thought of the journey my sister is on these days. 

She's venturing from the place that has awkwardly-sometimes become her Home, and she'll live without her family close-by. College days will be her new norm and I can only imagine her fears weaved with excitement. She leaves another country that has become a part of her, and she envelopes where she came from. Bags packed she'll be on her own now--scared and excited all at once. 

I have always felt a closeness with this girl--my sister--though, we hardly seem like Family. We share the same father and that similarity always makes me wonder if it's the very reason I feel so removed from her life, yet the very reason I even know her. 

After my own journal-jotting and gratitude-giving, I visited The Gypsy Mama's place; my heart felt at Home. I need to write like Lisa-Jo did today--for more than five minutes. She's been at Home this week, visiting where her heart tugs. And it feels Divine for me. Lisa-Jo invites me to share just what this morning's thoughts have sifted.

And so I write this--for my father...on grief and Home...relationships and life...

__________________________________________________

You prepare your heart to send her away, knowing she will likely never live with you again. Her days are her own now and try as you might to stay connected, she has wings and will fly.

She needs you to let go.
She needs you to stay.

Depending on her isn't fair. You're her daddy and she needs to know that you still care about her. She needs to know that you think about her. Show her you care about her world by pulling up a chair and listening--stay connected. Skype, e-mail, texting, phone calls. These days it's easier and just because you're a world away doesn't mean you can't, or even that you shouldn't.

She will press forward and live. In confusion, excitement, timidity and glee, she will discover and delight  people so different, yet so similar. She needs to know you'll still be there. 

Her world will change and she will grieve. Her perspective of you will prepare her for parenting her own, and everything you do to show her you care will give her confidence and peace. Give her comfort and grace. 

This is what living is about--preparing and letting go. You've provided, coached, loved, guided, and released.

Yet, don't release too much.

You have one daughter who felt the sadness over too much letting go. She grieved from two to tween to teen to thirty. Her heart always missed what she never really had. Too much responsibility for the relationship was placed on her and the weight was too heavy to bear, and she dropped it all. That daughter lives her own days now and feels a sadness with each breath over what could have been and still hasn't yet become.

So, when you stay connected with your other daughter--the one who you know well and raised fully--don't just send her notes with Bible verses to guide her way. Be there for her, in her world, even while you're in yours. She needs to know you care. And she needs to know her world is still important.

She's shifting from one world to another and she'll change along the way.

Tell her she is beautiful and let her question her worth. Don't just look the other way and call a prayer group together if she seems to go another way. Remember how you've felt once or twice in your own living.  

Don't let your grief make her feel guilty. She needs to know you miss her, but don't let her knowing hold her back from enjoying and discovering.

Let her find her way. 

Let her discover. 

Let her connect. 
Let her live. 

She isn't a by-product of you, and your worth isn't the sum of who she becomes. Give you both the freedom to be different and appreciate those differences. Learn from each other.

Her heart will always find its way back to wherever you are. Just let her live in the space of Today. Let her Home change.

Two countries, two close siblings and one removed, she ventures out. Her grief will be deep and her fears profound. This is her story. Let her live it. Give her grace. Give her love. And, give her permission to soar--her way. 

what if I'm wrong?

Sometimes God speaks to our hearts and gives us visions of what He has in store for us beyond the *now*.

We are required to wait.  And the waiting can be hard.

But *the now* in our lives matters.  It's important for *the later on* part in our story.  He designs our story with hope and there is purpose in it all.

It is our worship to be in *the now*.

Living in the moment, believing that we heard Him right and that there is beauty around the corner of *the now*, can be challenging.  And there is purpose in that, too.  He wants us to trust Him.  Always trust Him.

When He gives us visions for tomorrow He's teaching us about the patience He's already given us.  He teaches us about self-control.  He teaches us about His joy for now.  He teaches us about His goodness.

He teaches us how to trust Him more - for today's purposes and tomorrow's beauty.  And we grow closer to Him through the living.

Sometimes in the dance between the now and the later on - today and tomorrow - we can tend to question - what if I'm wrong?

What if I didn't hear Him right?  What if I'm mistaken?  What if my desires are outweighing His plan for me and all I'm hearing is my own wants?  What if I'm wrong?

This is where faith comes in.  The evidence of things unseen.  We must lean into Him - lean into our faith in Him.  Because we don't need to know.  We just need to live.

Lord, help me to be fully in today as I trust you for tomorrow.  You have purpose for all of this.

make your marriage a *work of art*

Imagine your marriage as a work of art.  Because it is.

What you do with your canvas - your years with your partner - is your worship.

Imagine the colors and texture left behind by the story you have lived.

As much as today seems like it's {just} about the regular, ol' mundane every. day charades -

wiping faces, blowing noses, potty training, homework coaching, teaching manners, disciplining child-like behavior, {trying to} accept child-like attitudes, keeping a well intentioned schedule, exemplifying good eating habits, making time to read before bed, making sure baths are taken (and done well), tucking little pitter-patters into bed, helping to develop character in our little ones, {trying to find a way to} pay the bills, working, cleaning, fixing, planning,  -

It's about so much more.

I know life feels like it's all about that long list, and more.  But it isn't.

Your life is much more than the {just seems like} merry-go-round-of-days.

Though I still have a child at home and long for another to grow, nurture, groom and guide - I know that my sole purpose isn't to be a Mama.  I was made for more than this.

I imagine what our house will sound like when there are no children laughing, running, spilling, jumping, whining, crying, teasing, or asking to wrestle.  Because someday there won't be.  And it will be quiet(er), again.

And so I choose to focus on my groom.  And our time together.  And our canvas of days.

I don't want to make up for the years when we've {only} invested ourselves in child rearing.  And though it seems so far away from now, it isn't really.  And there are no guarantees that we'll even have that long together - or event tomorrow.

Time moves {really} fast when we're in the living and {bad} stuff can happen.

More than that, there's purpose in my relationship with my Groom - purpose today for even more than raising our child(ren).  What we do for {each} other(s), and how we interact with others - what our "one thing" is together - that's what counts even more.

What if we focused on the more?  What if we deliberately chose colors to paint in the days that make our marriage?

Invest in your time together - today.  

Let him touch you.

Let him accept you - just the way you are.

Accept him for all he is, today.

Let the truth he speaks drown out all the doubt.

Make time together.

Pray together.

Dream together.

Be creative together.

Be in the moment.

Pay attention to him.

Keep your eyes fixed on what is important.

Show up.  Every. Day.

Maybe you could watch a movie together...play a game when the kiddos go to bed...make time for lunch together, often...find an activity you both enjoy and do it together...save some energy for him each day and give him your best attitude...spend a whole day together, regularly...

Simply - invest.  

Because, your marriage really is worth it.  Every bit of time, as difficult as it is - it matters.

a thin place

Questions.  We've all got them.

Though I believed in God, I didn't know Him. So I questioned *how* to live the life the way I was should.

I wanted to do everything right.

I didn't want to make the same mistakes I saw my own parents make.
     And so I tried to live the perfect life--searching for the manuel on life.

Ever so slowly, and ever so gently, He showed me His heart in and through my living.
     This was a Thin Place for me--a place where I could see His grace.

Now I see...I needed to live.

My own living was required.
     Even my failures were for purpose. Necessary parts of my story.

: : :

This is a revisit from the archives. 

In April 2011, I was a guest writer at Mary DeMuth's place. 

I invite you to grab a cup of tea and link over there to read more.

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