Giving thanks

Sitting in the quiet of the new day's dawn, I marvel at the fresh blanket of new snow.
I hold the moment as a gift and consider whether I'll walk, run, or blaze a trail on skis today.

Thick white powder adorns the trees making them look so sugary sweet. 

It's hard to imagine that just two days ago the temperatures were summer-like.

Lights glow from our neighbor's kitchen window and I suspect she is preparing a tasty feast.
In just a handful of hours the aroma of Thanksgiving will emanate from houses near and far.

Families will soon gather, smiles will be shared and dishes will be passed.

As hunger satisfies, chatter will quiet as slumber has its way again.   

There are some who won't share what my family will today.

I think of them as I recall the distress and unrest that was once a part of us. 

We celebrate the change that comes after a seemingly eternal wait is finally over.

What happens overnight or in a blink of an eye sometimes feels less miracle-like. 

Much of the world still sleeps as I think of all that has happened within me.
It is too early to see many of the tangible signs, yet life is whirling and twirling within me.

More than blood courses through my veins.
Joy and happiness, contentment and peace.

My body holds my own heart and now a small one of another.
Many days my reality still feels like a dream.

I sometimes dismiss the significance of this time since there isn't evidence in my shape. 

Still, cells are being multiplied at a rapid rate as limbs and organs are being formed. 

The wait was long, yet it was purposed for so much more than I'll ever even know.

Though doubt often niggled at me, trust was perfectly honed within me. 

The length of the wait doesn't make today any more or less of a miracle than it is. 

We are simply at the mercy of God for how our story will unfold and how we will grow. 

The seasons sometimes seemed so mixed up. 

There were summer daisies blooming when there should have been fall mums. 

Still, contentment came before this little one was ever conceived.

For this I'm most grateful because it truly isn't circumstantial for me. 

Forgiveness, peace and joy finally fill my heart and my home. 

Today and this moment, as well as the wait and the wonder, was all a deliberately given gift. 

Everything ties together for me as I look out at the perfectly white snow-covered trees. 

The shards of grief gave way to all that has grown within me. 

Life feels a lot like death a lot of the time and we wrestle at His ways. 

Still, peace eventually unfurls within us and for this I give thanks. 

close

Standing on the fringe. 

That's what it felt like to me.

Like I was just a smidge outside of His perfect will, or calling, or whatever you call it.

All I could think about was that I was so close. Yet, all His Spirit kept whispering to my heart was: you are so much closer than you think. 

I was there. In His presence. In the glory. As in, IN. I was, and am, that close.

That I've been or might be forgotten is what I've feared, though I hadn't actually labeled the fear as such. Anxiety would sweep me up in a whirlwind to hurry up and make visions happen because I might miss out. It'd be my fault, or my doing, or something that I'd done or didn't do that would cause me to miss out on something my heart truly desires.

               Hurry. Hurry!
               Choose now.
               No matter whether you're ready, just choose. 
               Just do it. 
               Do it now. 
               Hurry. 
               Hurry! You might miss out.

These were my steady mantras. Manifestos for me, or something like that.

Fear-driven. That was me.

Driven. Intensely driven.

Anxious.

I'd call it passion. But really, it was fear that causes my anxious way of living.

I've lived an angry life for a very long time. My anxiousness comes out in anger. I have a tendency to be irritated and annoyed and downright angry at everyone and everything, and mostly myself.

               So close, but not enough. 

That's what I've feared.

               Standing on the fringe. 

: : : 

People ask God to be a part of their day. To join them or be with them, or whatever.

I think it sounds so crazy.

               Isn't He always with us?
               Isn't He always there?
               Isn't it He who ordains all things? 

Truth tells me this, yet my tendency is to ramble and rush and react. When really, I can rest and rely and relate.

I'm not crazy, as in totally not someone who belongs. I do belong. I am good enough to be a part of this world.

Muscle memory develops in time. My muscles are learning how to respond to the truth that I know and not just react to truth out of fear that says I must, or should or need.

All muscles need rest in order to grow. My heart needs conditioning as much as it needs rest. This is the discipline God is teaching me.

He wants me to rest, as I am.

I've been obedient. I've done all that I can with what might someday be a manuscript. And I've done all that I can with what might actually become of a God-sized dream of a magazine.

I believe the heart of C'est La Vie: The Magazine (or whatever it might really become) is a community that will unleash and free people to live their life, as it is. This community will do this by bolstering one another to know we are not alone.

I can rest that what I've done in defining the mission and articulating the vision for this dream is enough for the rest to be.

What I've done is enough for me to rest and to see: how it develops . . . how He brings it together . . . how He grows me and it and all of us in the process.

I can rest that I am good enough (as I am) for Him to continue to develop this and me and us.

               I can trust Him. 
               I can rest. 

This is what is requested of me now: to rest and not rush.

I understand even more now that this, right now -- this choosing to rest and accept me, as I am -- is my worship.

My choosing to submit to God and trust that as I am is enough . . . that I am a part of glory that already is and already will be . . . I'm that close . . . is my real and raw worship.

Amen.

Linking up with Lisa-Jo 

(even though five minutes took 15 today)

on stepping back and submitting to rest

Two weeks ago I thought I finished a manuscript for a book that I'd actually initially avoided working on for a long time and eventually dove into heart deep.

The words came easy and I knew I had a message to share, though when I stepped back to examine what was there, I noticed that there are pieces missing.

I still believe that I have a message to share, yet I also believe that it isn't quite time.

In a fit of exhaustion I had sent my messy manuscript to a handful of friends, in spite of the fear that they'd cough and say, This? Seriously? This? 

I knew that I had to get what I had away from me.

          The work needed to cease, so I could rest.
               I needed space, so I could see. 

Fear wanted me to keep the words back and hold them tight. I sensed it wasn't quiet time for there to be a book yet, however, I knew without a doubt that my writing on this was complete.

I needed to get what I had in the hands of a few trusted friends. I just didn't know exactly why.

All along, my writing wasn't about the book. It was about honoring the story that I've lived and my heart knows I need to share. It was about honoring who I am and that as a person who processes with words, this writing of what I did was necessary.

Yet, fear told me I needed to know that my hours upon hours of early morning writing wasn't wasted. That the huge amount of space this smallish project took up in my heart and my mind wasn't foolish or meaningless.

Fear gave me a longing to know that it wasn't wrong for me to be sharing so much of myself, to be so divided like I was, so taxed and consumed by the writing for pieces of me to have been so partitioned off from my groom and our son.

Fear wanted me to forget about faith. It wanted me to get my answers from people instead of from Him, so I shared my words with the few people who were with me on many parts of my journey and waited for a response. I tried to tell myself that whatever they thought didn't matter, but convincing myself to wait patient didn't dismiss the restlessness.

I was fighting rest and the fight has left me dogged and ragged. I've been disappointed that I still have a process to work through to see this project through. I worked hard at getting to this place. I wrote and obeyed and honored the call. Still, I can't make it be time for the end product to be.

This is the place in this book writing where I've done all I can do.

I now need to submit to rest and simply let it be.

               I can still pursue hope, but it needs to be as I rest. 

: : : 

Just this morning I said no, thank you when invited to apply for a new job at a big-time university where I'd likely learn a lot and be positioned to really grow my career. I did this because I can't stand the thought of how exhausting that all would be.

What I know is this moment, right now. Not today as a whole, but right now. And right now I know that I feel exhausted even thinking about pursuing something like that.

Tomorrow is a different day and only God knows what feelings it will bring. In this moment, I feel incredibly achy and heavy. I literally have side effects from a fight I've fought for too long.

Fear has had its way with me far too many times. I could portray myself as the victim, though I'd be lying. I've had a role. I enabled it. Nearly every single choice I've ever made in my life has been led or guided or informed by fear.

I've fought the rest God has wanted of me. And . . . now is the time for me to yield to it.

          Now is the time to accept the pain
               . . . to face it head on and to submit to it, as it is. 

For too long in my life I've lived a white-knuckled existence -- fingers gripped tight around everything. If I couldn't control it, I'd try to cajole it or contain it . . . using whatever word I could think of that ultimately still meant control.

I've rushed in making decisions and found my way first in line, standing tall and pretty and all put together, just so that I'd have the opportunity if I wanted it. I didn't actually give much thought to whether I actually did want it until after everything was all positioned just in case.

Yeah, I know how messed up that sounds. Because, it is. It's also exhausting to have to go back and re-position and make adjustments like that.

My biggest fear is that I'll stay this way and never know how to really live.

A leader takes a step back and lets others go first. She carefully considers before she chooses. And she chooses for her first, quietly and contemplative. She doesn't need to tell everyone her process or procedure or predicament. She doesn't rush to conclusions. She comes to her own contentment through making good choices for her-self first. She isn't guided or pushed around by fear.

I have a message to share -- a community to lead. And I've been sharing a bit of it as God leads, but I know now that I need to contemplate it more. Truth tells me that I won't ever fully or perfectly get it. But still, there's a process I've yet to go through and that God's yet to work through in me.

          My worship right now is in the waiting. 
               In the stepping aside and submitting to the rest. 

On the other side of this there will be something richer and fuller, and that is when the message will be clearer and credible.

The only way I know how to loose the grip fear has had on my life is to step back and let me be. And that means to let the pain be, too.

“When you lean into that pain, and lean into the questions, and stop pretending that they’re not there, and stop pretending that everything’s fine, when it’s not . . . there is the release that’s waiting on the other side of that. It’s a new birth all over again.” (Sarah Bessey)

And so, I'm stepping back. I'm putting the manuscript on the shelf, though I assure you I am not boxing it up. And also? I'm putting the crazy, God-sized dream I have of developing a magazine on the shelf, too.

Hope says these things will be . . . as He leads . . . just not today.

I want a faith-driven life instead of a fear-forced life. So, today I'm choosing rest.

Amen.

Linking with Jennifer and Bonnie. 

staying here

Father, we come.

anxious for Your healing.

hopeful, yet wondering if maybe we could be wrong.

what we long for and envision You doing just might not happen.

we look, and what we see niggles a thought that maybe the grass won't ever turn green.

maybe what was once fresh-fallen-white and now is crusty-brown will just turn muddy-muck.

we realize the possibility that our story could get even yuckier yet.

You could have a journey that takes us deeper into the knee-deep valley of cold and darkness.

we walk around scouring for signs that our hope isn't lost forever; that it's just dormant.

You are our Foundation that guides us as we walk, looking for signs that there's growth.

we plead for signs to show us we're healing; that there will be redemption in all this waiting.

our eyes are fixed forward with faith that our hope-filled heart isn't just dry wasteland.

still us to stay here, Father.

shift our eyes to where the waiting is and where the signs of winter still loom.

may this be our offering to You: to accept this place, as it is.

amen.

hope-filled surrender

Father, we come. 

with bruised hearts. 

with burdened souls. 

with buried fears. 

Father, we come. 

with gratitude that You fill us. 

with gratitude that You make us whole. 

with gratitude that You redeem us. 

Father, we come. 

with hope for You to be true.  

with hope for You to be seen.

with hope for You to come. 

Father, we come. 

with a need for Your peace. 

with a need for Your grace. 

with a need for Your love. 

Father, we come. 

with confession that we assign a destiny to our story based on our circumstances. 

with confession that we control our situation to possibly get what we want. 

with confession that we want comfort more than we want to be patient. 

Father, we come. 

with acknowledgement that our ways might not be Your ways. 

with anxiousness that our waiting will not be wasteful. 

with acceptance that Your will might not be our want. 

Father, we come.

with eagerness for our hope to be realized. 

with expectation for You to fulfill our visions. 

with excitement for the roof to be blown right off our faith.

Father, we come. 

with wanting for Your Kingdom to come. 

with wanting for Your Bread to fill. 

with wanting for Your will to be done . . . amen. 

in the waiting

Lord, we come.

waiting on You. hopeful

even though it is painful, patient we choose to be.

help us to move ahead bold and confident, and to take every step in obedience of You.

we choose to serve You while we're waiting.

thank You that we can rest in Your peace in the midst of the chaos and confusion.

thank You that we can abide abide there, even as we wait.

help us to serve You faithfully.

bless us our wanting to worship You, Father.

amen.

on learning to patiently wait

i've been picturing myself sitting on a bench with my jacket and boots on and my bags packed right next to me, waiting for the bus to come around the corner to pick me up.

God's got big plans for me and i'm going to be ready, so i've been waiting and i don't want to move from this spot.

i haven't wanted to be bothered for anything -- not to do work or chores around the house, not anything. i've been focused and ready. i'm stomach-flutter anxious like anyone, but i've done my homework to know my strengths, and i how to pick out my seat on the bus.

i've got these big, mountain-size dreams and i just need the bus to come and take me there. 

but i've got this life now, as it is.

and i'm learning that my choice to live this, right now, is my offering each day.

i haven't done this particularly well. i've sat and moped because the bus hasn't come yet and i've wondered if maybe i've missed it. i've seen other people get on and be all happyclappy with singsong and cheer that they've got a ride as i feel stuck here waiting for mine. i've wondered why we aren't on the same one and why i have to wait here doing this job when i ache for another of a different kind. 

i have so much hope in my bag that it's about to burst at the seams, yet i sometimes feel trite and foolish and not practical enough. i'm not a fan of reality though i'm learning to be real, and that just seems so silly to say. 

i don't so much like to stay in the box of how things should be and for rules to be the reasons why we don't pursue or try things. i push and question a lot, and it irritates me when people make excuses not to try new things -- like waiting for the right time to have kids and how that time never comes, or saying we're too busy to pursue a dream and how we'll never not be busy.

i know the slew of excuses that keep people held back and i don't want to be one of them, so my bags are packed and i'm ready to go. 

i don't have time in my day as it is to pursue the crazy launch of a magazine, or write a book, or go to conferences, or even lap up every last drop of all the wonderful blog posts my dear friends write.

yet . . .

i've got dreams on my heart made specifically for me and i want to be ready to take my seat when the bus comes. so i've been sitting here on this bench with my bags all packed.

but . . .

there's an office for me with a job to do and a house to maintain and a boy-man to raise.

and . . .

i need to trust that the right bus will make itself known when it gets here for me.

i know that delayed obedience is disobedience and i know that exhaustion and frustration is the consequence doing more than i need to do right now. i know this well because this is what happens when i live with more focus on tomorrow than on today.

when i'm brave to accept this moment, i find myself with more energy than if i just sit and wait in one place. so i have to trust that i won't miss out if he asks me to make pancakes today, or linger longer to hear another story, or give him another hug. 

even though i'm restless, i need to live by faith and be patient in today. 

just because i have these dream doesn't make me exempt from now. i have to trust this, right now will prepare me for that, whatever and whenever it is.  

when i live as though this is not meaningless, i actually give fuel for the dreams.

so i'm going to trust that i'll be sustained for the journey, 
     and, i'll be sustained for today. 

and i'll remember that today matters just as much as tomorrow and do this one before me, as it is.

this is my worship.

linking today with Ann. 

Peace

I wanted something revealed differently about Christmas this year.

A sudden ah-ha moment or a shaking of my senses.
Something to challenge me differently.

But, my vision was consistent with the year lived and nothing seemed especially *different.* Sure there are twinkly lights and more things to do. And more importantly, a celebration of an important birth was nearing.

The truth of the season isn't any different for me. It doesn't feel different. Because, it is what it is to me more times in a year than packaged up within the confines of this season.

Still, I wanted Different.

In the past several months I've talked about *different* a lot. I wonder if it has been my longing and anxiousness, or if it truly has been a calling.
One thing is for sure, it's about perspective and mine has been different. Widened.

I've used the word See a lot. And for me there's simply no way to describe the stretching of our bodies wide open and hearts placed in eye chambers.

Hot water raining down on me, I say it aloud--I want something specific. 
I want a perspective of this season that is Different. 

And there it is--Peace.

Clear as day I knew what it was all about. What I've experienced in the past year is why I don't feel especially different. Grateful, yes. Enamored, yes. Adoring the story, absolutely. But, not a ground shifting and life changing kind of *different* like many people write about this time of year.

As I unwrap the word a little bit, I realize that it is Different. It is completely Different. It's a soul-prayer beginning to answer through the space of living.

One day not too long ago, a woman commented in this space that she was once anxious, too. She wrote:

I also struggled with "how long" it would take and then just realized it would take as long as the Lord desired and that became okay with me. I am not sure exactly what changed my heart from being anxious to receive, to being perfectly content with waiting. But I am so grateful that happened. 

"You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you." -- Isaiah 26:3

This beautiful soul has peace for His will.
She was willing to wait for whatever He had for her story.

I read her comment a dozen times over and still marvel at her peace. Reading her words again and again, my heart longed for that kind of peace.

A willingness to wait. 

And so, as I prepare for Christmas this year I have been enamored specifically by Mary. I've thought about how her story was so far beyond what she ever imagined. The truth of that is so powerful that it still barely allows me to speak, in awe over His goodness for us.

Praying for a friend to have peace, I was reminded of the gift in that request. For, peace truly changes every. thing.

For this *different* perspective--
     my worship is in unwrapping the miracle of Peace. 

_______________________________________________

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letting time tick on

I've been commenting to some friends about a transforming truth for me.  And now my own encouragement for others has spoken to me:

*Now* is important.  

I have already written a bit about this truth in this small space here where I cozy up and find freedom to live my story, made-for-purpose.

And yet, I'm still unwrapping the meaning of all of this.

You see, there's a few things I've got on my heart - things I need to do, places I'll see, people I'll meet - and I need to wait.

I can't rush the process of getting *there*.  Right *now* is necessary.  

The *now* in my life brings me to my Father.  

I'm not exactly good at exercising patience, though.

Just like the One Hundred Push-Up goal I have, *now* gets me to *there* -

             one patient-wait-right-here at a time,
             and one hefty push-me-up at a time.

There are reasons I need to wait on a few things in my life, and mostly I think it's to learn more about trusting my Father.  

He's a trust-worthy Papa, and I want to snuggle up and rest in His plans for me.  I want Him to be my Papa, not a fairy-tale-Big-Guy-in-the-sky.

My Father doesn't rush about.  He rests.  He invites me to saddle up next to Him, and to listen as He reads His story for my life.

He wants to use My story for His Story - for others' stories who He wants to weave with my life.

The *now* really needs to be my focus.

It's hard to wait, and I'm still not sure why it's so hard for me.

I keep telling Him I trust Him, and remembering He'll lead me wherever He wants me to go.

I'm learning to take off my shoes, put up my feet, lay my head in His lap, feel His breath, and just rest in His *now* for my life.

He tells me this and I find rest:

There's no need to rush in the getting there, my Beloved...be here with me, in the space of *now*.  There's purpose in *this* and I don't want you to miss this.

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.

Washed Away

What follows is a guest post written by one of my closest and dearest friends. She courageously walked through our yesterdays and how it led to our friendship today.

Together, we worship our Father in the telling of part of our story of friendship to honor what He's done in us. We pray the telling of it will nourish and give hope of God's grace - evident through a road of incredible pain and ugliness.  Our friendship was invested in God, and was purposed and crafted by Him, alone. 

_____________________________________________

I know that the sin has been washed away. Years ago it was. And it’s all been forgiven. But I believe it shouldn’t ever be forgotten.

To forget and to pretend it didn’t happen is saying that the beginning of the story doesn’t matter. That God’s hand was not fully involved.

He created such goodness from such fear and despair. 

I remember the day I met him. I remember being fully aware that I should not have anything to do with him. It was very clear in my mind that I knew it wasn’t a good idea. 

I still see in my mind’s eye what I was looking at the day I was determined to keep my distance. 

I knew of Amy. I knew he had grown up with her and that they were engaged now. I knew they were Christians, like me. Which to be fair, it was hard to find other [Jesus] believers during college. I was on my last year of college and craved the connection of others who had that same faith. 

I was waiting for God to match me with the one He’d chosen for me. 

Knowing of a relationship that was matched by God and held the faith in high regard was right in front of me and I was jealous. Jealous of what they had. Worried that I would never get to be in a relationship with a man who shared my faith. 

I was worried that no one would choose me. 

Weeks and months went on and the dynamic of my close knit circle of friends changed and shifted. My roommate and I grew apart, and he and I grew closer. It all just fell into place.  We spent more time together and the connection was natural.

It was really just a mixed up time. Graduating college, no job, no relationship. 

The thing I wanted the most -- to be chosen -- wasn’t happening and my other girl friends were getting scooped up by their husbands to be. I now know how all of that outside joyfulness doesn’t wash away all the fears each of them had about their own lives. But to me then, they had it all because they had the thing I most wanted. 

Mostly I felt guilt for my relationship with a man who was about to be married - Amy’s future husband. Though we were exclusively friends, we did connect emotionally.  

I felt like I could’ve stopped it all from happening. That it was solely my fault. I knew how I felt at the beginning, that I should keep my distance. But once it was set into motion it became the balm my soul needed, to live a life that I wanted. 

During the school week, it was almost like I was stealing Amy’s life. I was filling an emotional void for him while Amy was away at a different college. When she visited I was casted aside and rightfully so, but still it hurt. His hand in this was just as great as mine but I knew better from the start and should have been stronger.

Fast forward a few months after graduation. Their wedding would be in a few weeks. 

Amy sends me an email. 

I know Amy was called by God to reach out to me and even if her reasons weren't fully selfless, she still obeyed. 

This was grace. 

_____________________________________________

A decade has followed since then, and time does amazing things to the memory. Stay tuned for my own perspective of the beginning of our story of friendship...

This is the second in a seven-part series on friendship and grace.  

1. Purpose In The Story 

pausing to craft our art...and invest in *today*

I ask my groom for reasons.

He's given them to me through the years and they've made sense at the time.

Now, though, those years have balled up together.  All of those reasons tangle up and become one big messy wad of negative-speak.

I don't feel good enough.

I look around and compare my life with others.  I think it's because I'm not good enough at being a mom of one to be a mom of more than this blessed one.

Those reasons no longer make sense for today's living.  And, combined they don't make a bit of sense - ever.  Some things just don't belong combined with others.

I've had this longing for another child in our family, for years.  And to pair with the longing, I've believed God has said it will happen.  Some. Day.

For now, I am required to wait.  And waiting is hard.  Especially when you really believe that something will happen.

Glancing out the window with longing for tomorrow, impatience creeps up the driveway, uninvited - and steals today's blessings of joy and the truth of today's purpose.

Truth says that today is important for tomorrow.  Impatience forgets this truth.

I know in my heart that today isn't the time to try for another child.  Our life has been busy and this past year we've been on a different pace.  A necessary pace for our story.

Life has moved fast.  

We've done a lot of things in the past few years.  Good things.  Meaningful things.  We've lived a purposeful story.

But right now when life seems to say "do this," we're pressing pause on any more change.  I'm not sure what that means, or for how long.  But I know that there is purpose in today.

Today - just as it is - has deep, meaningful purpose in its slower pace. 

Looking around at so many families who seem to have two children in the span of three years - and three within five - it can be easy to feel out of the loop.

When people question out loud whether we'll have another - seeming to look at the age of our child to base their thinking - it becomes harder to have hope.

Sometimes people don't realize it's not up to us anyway.  Life doesn't just happen when we want it to happen.  We can't create life.  And sometimes God has a different plan.

I know this, and I know it isn't time {yet}.  And still, I ask when.  Still, I wriggle like little-Miss-Antsy-Pants - impatient to wait until my Father says it's time.

Recently, when I ask the man why not now, the answer became more clearer.  A different perspective than before.

He wants to invest in us.  Our marriage.  Our togetherness.

Before we go forward...we need more of each other.

We're still young, as so many people say.  And God willing, it's true.  

We are taking time to pause on the future and live for today.  We are deliberately choosing to focus on each other, as we partner in the hard-raising of our blessed one.  

It is hard to raise children - no matter their age (or ours).  It won't get any easier.  And adding another won't make it any easier or free up any time for each other.

We have this time now.  Today.  And we're choosing to enjoy it.  Seize it.

We're pausing on today.

These days could be *in-between-days*.  We don't know for certain.  We don't know whether we'll start over in raising a child from the first cries.  We do know what we have today.  

Today we're stealing moments from child rearing to craft our marriage.

Our marriage is an art.  It's more than disciplining a child, making sure he uses his manners, treats people kindly, and washes in between the wrinkly places.  Our life together is more than this or that.

We're investing in us today.

what if the blessing is the *no*?

For a long time I've had an ache, a *longing* that has been so painful.

I've written about it.  I've talked about it. I've prayed about it.  And I've even asked for it go away.  Yet, the ache is for what I thought was God's plan - a vision from Him.

How would I be patient in the waiting?  

The waiting was is hard.  It was is painful.  I began to want it more and more.  Until, it was simply too much of a want.  Then, I asked for the desire to go away.

God answered.  No longer did I want all the responsibilities that would come along with the *longing* coming true. Yet, my heart still had room for the blessing, if it would come to be.  The ache vision {seemed to} remain(ed), even in spite of my mind saying no, thank you.

What does a person do with what appears to be a vision?  What does she do with an ache, a *longing* that she can't make go away - that He doesn't take away - until He does, and the vision remains.

How does she continue to believe in Someone who she cannot physically see, and yet she does see in so many ways?  How does she continue trusting when it seems so obvious the vision won't come to be?  

I've been wrestling in a big way.  Last week I even dared to utter the words, I hate you, to the God who created me and you, and this whole wide world.  I didn't want to believe any more, and yet I did.  I felt tortured.

In the pain of the ache, I am drawing ever nearer to God in the most amazing ways.  His ways are higher than mine.  He wants what's best for me.  And this, this ache, I'm seeing - it's good for me because it draws me to Him.

I think if He answered my *longing* perhaps I wouldn't be this close to Him, and that scares me.

I am at a crossroads right now.  Trust in this ache, or...

I can't think of another option.  All roads lead to Him.  I cannot move without Him providing breath, and He has become so evident in every thing.

So, I live on.  

This life - everything about this life I have - is for great purpose.  Everything that happens has great meaning.  Deep significance.  My life has been blessed and continues to be blessed, and I believe today that the hard times like the aching of my heart, is really one of the greatest blessings ever.  How it brings me closer to His love, and so much more.

Through walking this vision I've come to places I wouldn't have otherwise.  I've come to acceptance of God's will, and to seeing His goodness in Every. Thing.

I am receiving Grace for myself and living without chains that I only thought were bound to me out of deservedness.

I am seeing I deserve this {Grace} full *life* and to live wholly and uniquely me, because He made me this way - not because of anything I did or didn't do. I am learning to trust Him.

All along in my living with this ache in my heart, I've feared.  I've feared what if it isn't true?  I wonder why I feared.  Did I think - Then what?  How will I live?  What will come of my purpose?  I don't think so.  But, perhaps.

I've pondered the *why* of my ache and came face-to-face with my sorrows and grief, and my sadness and shame.  I've wanted to atone for my choices and to tangibly see - to believe - that nothing is wrong with me.

I have a voice that wasn't there prior to this *longing.*  And in walking through this valley of *longing* - of aching for a vision I thought was God-placed - I've seen things I wouldn't have otherwise.  And it's brought me to here.  To the writing.  To seeing *my* God-carved-heart.  And to sharing with people who I wouldn't have otherwise shared with.

Perhaps in the aching I've been used to touch some one else's heart.

The other day I wrote a post intended to be for my groom. God has brought that post back to the forefront of my mind in a powerful way.  Because He wrote that post.  Not me.  He reminds me of the words - that my life {still} has purpose and meaning, even if my greatest *longing* never comes to be.

For all of these blessings I unwrap today, I give thanks.