Soul Love Song

"Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Jeshanah.
He named it Ebenezer, explaining,
'The Lord helped us to this very point.'”
- 1 Samuel 7:12

Most of you know that God recently offered me a unique opportunity for this blog. Last week, I submitted Truth in Weakness in the Circle of Moms “Top 25 Moms with Inspiring Families” contest. I didn’t find out about the contest ‘til six days before it finished, but I decided {again} to make this blog available to the Lord. And then let Him decide what He wants to do with it.

In those six days, numerous friends and family members captured the vision of extending God’s message of truth and grace to a hurting world by championing along side of me with your support. I am so grateful for that, SO grateful. Whether this blog landed in the Top 25 or not, each of you who advocated reminded me {by your example} that I want to be a friend who never hesitates to cheer another friend on in life.

And I am honored to share that on Wednesday at 7pm, God said yes!
Truth in Weakness came in at #21.

Funny thing is, as it climbed closer to the Top 25, it was harder for me to surrender to the prospect of God saying yes, than it was to the prospect of Him saying no . . . Ever have that??

The following morning, God brought me to a divinely-timed blog post of praise, based on the verse above in 1 Samuel. I had never been to this blog, but clearly, God had led me there. And my soul kept singing the love song of praise below.

Thank you, my friends and fellow sojourners.
I am celebrating Him with my Ebenezer soul!
- Tanya

Come thou fount of every blessing
(by Robert Robinson)

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I'll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I've come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Breathe!

Today, I am excited to offer you my first guest post! Lily has been a pioneer of transparency to me, so I know you'll appreciate the powerful message that the Lord has for you through her. Lily also happens to be my sister. {smile}

They thought it was rather silly when the doctor recommended a sleep study for her. Downright weird. “Ridiculous, new-fangled nonsense,” they privately scorned. But when the neurologist told them she had severe sleep apnea, they were stunned.

The watershed for diagnosing sleep apnea is if you stop breathing 5 times or more in an hour - then you have it. My mom? She stopped breathing 30 times in the span of an hour. Yes, severe sleep apnea.

Amongst other problems, sleep apnea can cause heart problems. My mom’s had those for years. Could this be the reason? They questioned . . .

I remember my mom recounting her apnea test to me. At one point, they woke her and brought her oxygen. I can’t describe the rush I heard in her voice as she told me how good it felt, but it was obvious this taste of getting what she needed was powerful.

All this time, she has done without the oxygen. All those nights she’s done without . . . breathing. And to her, it was normal – her normal.

And the thought ran through my mind, isn’t that like any of us? We tend to define normal by what we’ve always known, by what is familiar to us. Somehow, even in the midst of living with difficult circumstances, we can be duped into thinking our familiar experience defines normal simply because it’s all we’ve ever known.

And then . . . in steps God. His truth sheds light on our experience and shows it for what it really is. Our eyes are opened and our breath is taken away by the vast difference between our normal and what God says is good. Our false definition shatters into pieces and in the shattering, a new hope is found -
the hope of the Lord revealed in His truth.

We all need that beautiful, objective Caregiver to step in & set us straight. To tell us that we’ve stopped breathing, acting more like a dead man than one who pants vibrantly with life.

We can do that, you know. Stop breathing.
We don’t always know we’ve done it as it can happen when we’re sleeping.

God wants us to breathe deeply of His love and of His grace. But sometimes, we spiritually fall asleep into despondency and numbness.

I do. I stop breathing at times.

I am so thankful for the Lord Who comes, wakes me up, and offers me oxygen – offers me Himself.

“Inhale. Breathe deeply,” He says,
“take in all that you can of Me.
Let your lungs fill completely; let it go all through your veins.
I am here to resuscitate you.”

And as I inhale, I can feel the newness of His life infusing my soul.

Oh Father, we all are prone to stop breathing at times. Without even knowing it, we often fall asleep and become as if lifeless, without breath. And somehow, it can start to feel like normal to us.

Come, wake us. Resuscitate us according to Your Spirit. Breathe on us that we might have breath and we might inhale and exhale the life that You give. Fill our spiritual lungs completely.

And where we have adopted a sense of false normalcy, give us Your objectivity to discern merely familiar from good. Redefine normal for us in light of Who You are, for since the fall – You are the only truly normal we can know. We are all askew.

Help us to know Your truth as our objective measure. Our experiences are so in our faces that we tend to receive Your truth through their lenses. Give us eyes to see beyond them.

And teach us to breathe, inhaling all that You are and exhaling all that honors You and Your Name. To Your Name be glory.
Amen.

Breathe!

About Lily . . . My name is Lily, and I'm on an imperfect journey of knowing and loving a perfectly wonderful God....in the now....in the midst of whatever I'm going through. My heart has found its resting place under the rescuing cross of Jesus, though I foolishly wander from its haven. But all the while He beckons and calls and remains my Redeeming Rescuer, redeeming my ordinary things for extraordinary purposes. Redeeming all of me. And in the end it is all glory for Him and grace for me.

Making Room {for Healing}

"The LORD is near to the brokenhearted.
And saves those who are crushed in spirit."
(Psalm 34:18 NASB)

I told my husband recently that I’d found a great way to make more room in our kitchen cabinets. After he kindly took the bait & asked how, I told him that I just keep breaking dishes. {Really, I don’t know what the deal is, but it has happened a bunch lately.}

But I’m actually not too bummed about it. Because both my glasses and my dishes have unfortunately lost their luster in recent years.

My glasses show the years they spent regularly immersed in water so hard it could cut through a rock. {With every run of the dishwasher, they sadly escaped looking worse than when they went in.}

And the random display of scratch marks on our plates evidence that apparently they weren’t made for cutting. {Wish that memo would have come with the product.} And several of them have cracked under the pressure of microwave heat. {That memo would have been nice, too.}

For the most part, I’ve gotten used to their ugly scars. Probably because they’ve been that way for so long. But since they’ve lost their visual appeal, make no mistake – I’ll gladly part with the stains and the scratches! {And secretly hope that as a result, someday I’ll get need to buy new ones.}

The other day, it struck me that in many ways, I am like these couriers of cuisine.

My mind a glass with cloudy misplaced hope that distorts my vision.
My heart scraped up from critical words that cut like a knife.
And my emotions? Well, they can certainly crack under pressure when the heat is too much.

Many days my soul is fragile china in a world of careless bulls that threaten to crush me.

But I believe that sometimes Jesus allows our hearts to break.
To make more room. Room for uninhibited freedom.
Room for restored beauty.
Room for renewed joy.
Room in our souls for undiminished healing.
More room for Him.

Our Father is a gentleman, though. Oftentimes, He waits until we can see our pain for what it is.
Until we're ready to abandon to renewal and redemption.
Until we’re ready to part with our pain.

He beckons us, as if to say,

Oh, My precious child,
You don’t have to bear these stains any longer.
You don’t have to feel those scratches in your soul when critical knives are near.
Release your scars, My child.
Bring them to Me.
Bring them all.
And let Me wash you in My living water of hope, healing, and life abundant.

I conveniently neglected to mention that I also have a few pieces that I’m NOT ready to part with, even though they clearly need to go. I have these oversized mugs that I absolutely love to use for pretty much anything. They are my goldilocks bowls – not too big, and not too small. Just right.

But sadly, bear mug 1 and bear mug 2 {See, they even exude the warmth of a bear hug!} now both have a broken handle. So there is now a sharp, jagged knob protruding from each of the two mugs. {Even my 1st grader pointed out that they’re major safety hazards.}

But I LIKE my oversized bear mugs! And all the alternatives before my human eyes will be either, well, you know – too big, or too small.

But patiently, He waits. Offering me something far better than the short-lived comfort of my bear mugs.Whenever I invite Him to make more room.

Have you ever thought of the aches in your soul as actually serving you well? {to make more room for God?}
Or brokenness as a means to beauty?
Maybe you hang onto pieces in life that are hazards to your heart like I do.
Know that our Father longs to pick up all of the sharp, broken pieces of your shattered soul. To put them back together in way that you never would have imagined.

Webster defines luster as “the state or quality of shining by reflecting light.”
Invite Him to restore your luster, my friend.

a sacred exchange of story & soul

"a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." - isaiah 61:3

Just a year ago, I was barely able to get up off my couch, let alone step into my son’s Kindergarten classroom. I was in the thick of a health crisis that left me incapacitated for months on end. But the other day, I was there. In his classroom. Looking into the eyes of 20 precious 1st graders as I read a story to them. With my son as my proud, picture-showing assistant.

The story is a cute one about a siamese cat whose imagination transforms him into an invincible, sword-fighting chihuahua. And oh, how I can relate to little Skippyjon Jones, my soul wanting to be something I am not. Often. And missing the splendor of the distinctive ways that God created me in His glorious image. (But that’s another post.)

That afternoon with the children, my heart soared simply to be in their presence, gifting them with the treasure of a story. My imagination walking side-by-side with theirs as we journeyed together to a destination “two bones shy of the end of the world” to come up with a plan to save the world. (Or at least save los chimichangos from the bobble-ito in la casa perrito!)

Such a gift to look into the eyes of these precious souls, theirs looking back at mine. To connect with their hearts and minds. And to learn much about each of them simply by the individual expressions on each face as they listened.

One little girl wore an intent look that reminded me so much of me. Another one brushed her long hair. On the other side of the room, a couple of buddies snuck in a whisper.Each instance, a grand celebration of divine distinction.

And as the pages of time continued to turn, I rejoiced in this sacred privilege of entering their world for a few brief moments. And celebrating the gift that each of them are to this world.

In my last post, I shared that it’s often hard to miss the sweet embraces of our Savior.

This day, my friends, was not one of them.

Now it's your turn! What’s a moment that you beheld recently?



This post is dedicated to the wonderful community of staff and families at our son’s school. We are ever grateful for your prayers and tangible support for our family during my health crisis. And we pray that the Lord returns the blessing to each of you in abundance.

restless in the dark (& secret soul embrace)

"Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you."
- James 4:8

Before heading to bed the other night, I went into my son’s room where he was sound asleep to give him another kiss good-night. Something I often do. But this time, it was different.

As I bent down and gently placed my cheek against his, I whispered a soft “I love you.” And suddenly, his right hand began to move.
He was forming a tired, limp “I love you” sign.

My heart swelled with delight. I wasn’t expecting a response! I was simply wanting to love on him.
One more time.

The next day, I asked him if he recalled our exchange, and he didn’t.
His expression that night was simply the overflow of his heart.

And you know, just as my heart was reaching out to my son that night, so does our Heavenly Father’s heart reach out to us.
Every.
Day.
And do we know it? Sometimes.
Do we feel Him reaching out to us? Many times probably not.

But whether we know it or feel it doesn’t change the reality.
That He does.

With tender hands of compassion and mercy, our Abba Father reaches out to grace our hearts.
Because He knows that His nearness to us is our good.
Because He knows that our wounded souls desperately need the calm of His healing touch. Especially in the dark.
Because He values us.

And I wonder – what does the overflow of my heart look like when my soul receives His nurture unaware?
Do I instinctively respond with an expression of mutual adoration?
Absolutely!
At times . . .

But there are also times when my soul grows restless in the dark . . .

Times when I shrug my shoulders with indifference to astonishing grace.

Nights when I pull the covers up over my heart in shame.
Hoping He won’t see me.

Moments when I lay curled up in a ball and flinch at His healing touch.
Afraid to trust Him with my fragile soul.

I have winter nights when I toss and turn with cold, pouty lip.
Expressing He’s not enough.

Seasons when I’m too weak and weary to respond.
Because I’ve been carrying weighty loads that are meant for Him alone.

And sometimes my soul wears a scowl.
Because my selfishness dismisses the reality of His infinite goodness.

Rather than craft my fingers into a language of love,
misplaced hope forms a fist to cling to my deepest dreams.

All the while I move and breathe in the very presence
of their perfect Fulfillment.

So has your soul grown weak or weary in the dark? Does the overflow of your heart shun the very touch that longs to heal you? Or maybe you fasten your eyes closed because you’re afraid of the light.

Whatever the season of your soul, know that God’s infinite love for you remains fiercely immovable.
His love is not dependent on your response to Him.

So rest, oh weary soul.
Breathe deeply in His presence.
And know that in Christ, you are safe and secure.
Even in the darkest of nights.

“My soul finds rest in God alone.”- Psalm 62:1

burnt offerings & walking in worship

[raging battles with the seen: part 2]
read part 1 here.

“victory always begins with a cry for help.”
- beth moore (breaking free)

the other day, my sister sent me a beautiful video clip that my nephew created for one of his classes. his assignment was simply to create a short clip that answered the question, “what is worship?”
and the tears i wiped testified that the question was well answered.

right after watching that, i came upon a post that a friend shared, and was immediately drawn in by both the picture and title. the picture was the runner up to the picture that i chose for the truth in weakness facebook page. so i remain incredibly drawn to it. and the title? something about food. and intimacy . . .

fortunately not the typical must-share-my-favorite-recipe post.
nor another endless rant on which diet is better than the others.
it was about how we interact with food. rather, how we interact with Jesus each time food passes through our hands and into our bodies.

given my recent heartbreaks in my relationship with food, the fact that i came to a post about the spiritual dimension of food immediately after watching a video snippet about worship made it obvious that God clearly had something in store for me.

and in that post, i read this:
“i want it to be an act of worship to incorporate intimacy with Christ in all things — even this, the meal-making.”

i could sense that God was wanting to put two conflicting pieces together for me, but i wasn’t quite seeing the how yet. so i walked out to the kitchen with an inquisitive chant that echoed through my mind: “food and worship, food and worship . . . ”
only to discover that my breakfast potatoes had burnt to a crisp.

i turned off the stove, and God then brought these two words to mind:
burnt offering

. . . i knew the term, but what did it mean for me? i googled pondered the thought, and came to another article that said:
“the altar of burnt offerings is also known as the altar of sacrifice . . .
as the Father was willing to sacrifice His son,
as the Son was willing to sacrifice His own life,
as abraham was willing to sacrifice His son isaac as a test of faith by the Lord,
so too, should we be willing to sacrifice all that the Lord asks if we truly desire to return to His presence.”

and like a ton (or ten) of bricks, it hit me:
God was calling me to offer this painful area of my life to Him.
to surrender it on the altar of my heart.

i then read elsewhere that burnt offerings served as reminders to those offering of their depravity. and oh, my depravity have. i. seen.
i returned to my scorched potatoes, placed them on my plate, and brought them to my dining room table. to eat them.
as an act of surrender.
as an act of worship.

"so here's what I want you to do, God helping you:
take your everyday, ordinary life—
your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—
and place it before God as an offering.

THIS is true worship."
(romans 12:1, combo of the mssg & today’s niv)

i bowed my head before the almighty King of creation, and with the closing of my eyes began a healing stream of repentant tears. i was overwhelmed and humbled by the privilege simply to come into His holy presence – particularly in the very context that’s been such an ugly one for me.

my soul was remembering the holiness of the One in whose presence i sat.
it was as if, amidst the intensity of my struggle, i had forgotten it.
at least within this context.

my relationship with food has become a place of bitterness, resentment, and perceived entitlement.
but.
where was i when the foundations of the earth were laid? . . .

"surely i spoke of things i did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know. "
(job 42:3)

i was grieved by my complaining.
and lamenting my lack of gratitude.

"let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God.
there we will receive His mercy,
and we will find grace to help us when we need it most."
(Heb. 4:16)

i laid it all before Him in confession, and surrendered the struggle.
and i invited Him to transform this area of bitterness, resentment, and entitlement into a place of contentment, thanksgiving . . .
into a place of worship.

i want to walk in worship in this context, Lord.
i want to walk in worship . . .

not just in the easy places of life,
but in the ugly, grueling, despairing places.
when my soul aches within me, i can still worship You.
i can worship You in my sorrow.
i can worship You WITH my sorrow.

that morning, amidst my deep longing to have full freedom with food, God graciously reminded me that He wants better for me.

He wants me to have unbridled freedom for my soul.

"my flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

(psalm 73:26 )

so tell me, friend . . . what are the heavy chains weighing down your soul today? the chains that you've longed for God to loosen and exchange for wings of freedom flight.

cry out to Him.
know He hears you.
and receive His power to walk in worship – even in the most anguished, desperate places of your soul.

marriage & the ordinary ever after

a few days ago, i was in the produce section at the grocery store, and there was a couple nearby. probably somewhere around my age. as i made my way to the ruby reds, i overheard her mentioning to him a few interesting ingredients for a recipe that was far over my simple culinary head.

and as i took those few steps in the outskirts of their moment in time, i wondered if she knew this ordinary day with him would come. an outing with prince charming of pushing around a rickety grocery cart . . . a far cry from their sunset strolls along the beach like days gone by.
and i couldn’t help but wonder if she was disappointed by this unromantic, ordinary task.

after having noticed their together in the ordinary, i started to think about the ordinary-ness in marriage. and how unprepared we are for it.
in fact, we become afraid of it.
how could these mundane tasks do anything but leech our starving souls?

our culture has succeeded in teaching us at an early age that a thriving relationship means a thrill ride through life that takes our breath away. in good ways, of course. therefore, when the ordinary rises its unappealing head, as it always does, we start to wonder if there’s a problem.
because where did the thrill go?? . . .

and then, when ugly invades our lives and batters our hearts, we can experience pain so deep it takes our breath away.
not the thrill ride we had in mind.

but what if . . .
what if we embraced the ordinary?
even celebrated it.

because it’s easy to revel in the highs of life with our spouse.
but it’s a selfless act of sacrificial love to embark on the mundane.

and that.
is extraordinary.

our souls are sacred ground, friends. so when we invite Jesus INTO our mundane, we find Him there.

and suddenly, that rickety grocery cart, that kitchen sink, that small cubicle – isn’t ordinary anymore.
it has become a place of worship.

it has become extraordinary.
because He is in it.
scroll back up to the top and take another look at the picture.

see that couple?

when my husband and i grow old together, i hope that’s what you’ll see.
two souls experiencing the ordinary – together.
walking through life – side by side.
hands positioned for servanthood – ready to help share the load.

and me rockin’ the purple pants!

for when trying is utterly futile

[raging battles with the seen: part 1]

since my health adventure began, there’s been a big slice of life that has been off limits, with uninviting exceptions that i can count on one hand. an area so prominent that i unfortunately can’t avoid it, especially around the holidays. because afterall, how else are the holidays celebrated, but by indulging in all kinds of delicious FOOD, right?

i don’t need to tell you that food is a beloved topic of conversation, especially among women. IRL and online. it’s the theme of social gatherings year-round, the centerpiece of holiday parties. food is a popular topic in the stories i read my son, the songs i sing.
it. is. everywhere . . . relentlessly!

the world seems to revolve around food.
and so does mine.
just in an exhausting, overwhelming, and utterly disheartening way.

i’ll spare you the details and simply say that for the past year and a half, my body has only been able to tolerate a handful of plain foods. plain potatoes, a gluten-free pasta, a protein drink, some plain veggies, and a ration of fruit. yep, that pretty much covers it. (whether for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. because they're all the same.)

so as thanksgiving approached, i found myself grieving. grieving the loss of freedom i’ve always known. grieving the loss of comfort that i never knew i sought – until it came to a screeching hault. and grieving the loss of convenience that i desperately want back sorely miss.

and as i’ve slowly shifted from being confined to my couch to reentering life outside my four walls, the world around me looks the same as it used to.
but i’m not.
i cannot interact with it the same as i always have. and that’s been a painful adjustment.

rationally, i know i’m not missing out on any health benefits derived from sugar, MSG, and whatever else lurks in our food. but emotionally, i don't care still long for the freedom, the occasional comfort, and oh, the convenience.

and then i am challenged with this:
"we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen,
since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."
- 2 Corinthians 4:18

that is one impossible tall order, but i know it’s the only way i’ll avoid giving in to the temptation to be self-absorbed, or to buy into the lie that something aside from God can satisfy me. sure, i know that.
in my head.

but oh, the road from my head to my heart. it’s an awfully long, dark, and windy one, friends. because i’m a tangible, literal, planning kinda girl.

i like the seen!!

things i can touch. smell. and of course, taste.

and i live in the seen . . . i walk through aisle after aisle in the grocery store seeing all the food i can’t have. i practically drooled at the heavenly smell of fried chicken permeating from somebody’s open car window in a parking lot recently. and what i wouldn’t give to be able to go out on a dinner date with my husband again . . .

i’m weary of this road i’m travelling.
i’m struggling hard with impatience.
and sadly, i sense my relationship with food growing bitter and resentful.

amidst the struggle, i read this from joyce meyer:
“pride prevents patient waiting because the proud person thinks so highly of himself that he believes he should never be inconvenienced in any way.”

ouch . . .

okay then. so i am called to fix my eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen.
somehow . . .

friends, i haven’t solved that dilemma. i’ve thought about it a lot. i’ve talked to God about it a lot. and i’ve been banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how to actually to fix my mind’s eyes on what is unseen, rather than on all this plethora of food that surrounds me and causes my senses to scream brutal lies of deprivation to me
all.
day.
long.

and then i remember . . .

i don’t have to figure it out.
victory doesn’t come in trying harder.
the power to overcome is only found when i stop trying.

this is a battle i can not win.
but Jesus already has.

“this is the assigned moment for Him to move into the center,
while i slip off to the sidelines.”
(john 3:30, the message)

in miles stanford’s book, the green letters (which i highly recommend), he shares this liberating truth from norman douty:

“throw down every endeavor and say, i cannot do it,
the more i try the farther i get from His likeness.
what shall i do?

ah, the Holy Spirit says, you cannot do it;
just withdraw; come out of it.
you have been in the arena, you have been endeavoring . . .
come out and sit down,
and as you sit there behold Him,
look at Him.

don’t try to be like Him, just look at Him.
just be occupied with Him.
forget about trying to be like Him.
instead of letting that fill your mind and heart, let Him fill it.”

my freedom lies in the simplicity of the gospel – when i remember that i am completely incapable of living this Christian life.

when i cease striving . . .

i invite you to read about the powerful experience that i had with God after seeking to surrender all this to Him. read raging battles with the seen: part 2 here.

because love covers a multitude of smells

today, i’m celebrating the value of community.
and sharing a story about my morning as pig pen.

as i walked through the church doors yesterday morning, i saw a friend and gave her a hug. but i didn’t realize that she had an open tin of fish in one hand – until my hand felt wet after our hug . . . apparently, she had just finished an object lesson for a children’s class, and was looking for a good place to dispose of the hazardous material.

i stopped in the bathroom to give my hands a quick wash, and then headed to the worship center. as soon as my husband and i got seated, i was knocked over by the stench of fish that had me on the verge of nausea.
i reeked!

so i exited the premises and bee lined to the restroom. only i couldn’t locate the origin of the smell. so i rubbed a soapy paper towel all over the one side of my sweater and pants, and returned to the worship center.

moments later, it became grossly apparent that all my lathering hadn’t resolved the putrid stench.

i felt helpless.
i was embarrassed.
i stunk!

in a room with about 1,000 other people, i spotted a good friend of mine. and at that moment, she was taking off her blazer.
in the seat.
right.
in.
front of me!

i broke out in the hallelujah chorus asked my husband if i should ask her to borrow it. but i was clearly asking entirely rhetorically, because without delay, i reached my hand out to her shoulder and asked. (mhmm, pretty much like the kid at the dinner table who asks, “are you gonna eat that??”)

my status quo was clearly dysfunctional, and i had spotted a new pair of shoes!
and let me tell ya, there was nothing but a desperate willing heart here.

my friend joyfully gave me the blazer off her back. which didn’t actually surprise me – because that’s the will-give-you-the-shirt-off-her-back kind of friend she is.

so i disturbed the people sitting next to us now a third time hit the restroom yet again. and i returned a new woman.
the blazer fit.
it matched.
and it was cute!

and you know, friends, that’s exactly what Christ does for us. He rescues us from the overwhelming stench of our sin, and clothes us with new life. too often, we keep rubbing our soapy paper towels all over our messy hearts to try to make them clean. but the stench of sin will always remain unless our hearts are washed in the cleansing blood of Christ, and we are clothed anew.

as i sat there grateful for my new look (and smell), our pastor was speaking about none other than the importance of community. reminders to the body of Christ that we need each other. that we’re dependent on one another.
with my eau de tropicale, i was living proof. i was exhibit A.
and that was far from the first time.

community is a place where we remind each other of God’s strong love.
a place where we have the freedom to ask, the assurance of support, and the opportunity to bless.

true friends offer reflections of God’s glory as we live out life with them.

whether it’s through their gestures of support, their faithful prayers, their words of encouragement, or their inspiring example of God's power as they persevere through life’s hardest trials.

true friends live out the essence of the gospel.

because the purpose of friendship, the purpose of community, is that hearts and affections are drawn to Jesus.

thank you, my friend, for loving on me with a beautiful, practical portrayal of the gospel. (and all those around me enthusiastically thank you, too!)

flying shoes & dysfunctional status quos

“No good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”(Psalm 84:11)

A few months ago, I bought some new shoes for my son. I successfully maintained my long-standing precedence of buying shoes that were too small, then going back to the store days later to exchange them for the next size up. Only this time, they didn’t have a ½ size bigger. So rather than embrace that there are other stores that exist in the world aside from Target and Wal-Mart naturally, we got a whole size bigger. And they seemed to be the right size. Until they started flying off his feet when put in playground motion.

Being the cheap frugal mom I am, I figured we’d just give it a little time, and he’d grow into them.
Right? . . .

At first, he was inconvenienced with having to retrieve his shoe and put it back on – multiple times when playing. So if you would have asked him a few months ago if he’d like a pair of shoes that fit better, he would have welcomed the opportunity.
But then, he adapted.

Several months weeks passed, and my husband and I continued to witness the case of the flying shoe. So I asked my son if it happened every day at school, and he very matter-of-factly explained that he has simply started to run slower to reduce the incidents.
He was compensating to accommodate a wrong fit.

When I heard that, I felt like a loser mom and horribly guilty badly, so I decided that it was time. Time that he had the right fit.

So I decided to take him to a whole new world shoe store on the way home from school today. And I eagerly anticipated announcing the good news to him receiving a hero's fanfare in response. It was going to be one of those special moments as a parent when I intentionally affirmed that his needs are important. I couldn’t wait to verbalize with all sincerity of heart that now, he can run as fast as he wants to.
That he doesn’t have to be held back, anymore!
It was an opportunity to give my son a gift of freedom, and I was fully embracing it.

But my son?
Um, not so much.

With a likely glow of pride satisfaction, I reached out to my son’s heart with the news this afternoon. And rather than embracing the fullness of the freedom at hand, or at least delighting in a much-improved situation, he resisted. He started to persuasively explain to me that his current shoes are fine. No, they’re actually great! In fact, they’re not falling off as much.
Only “zero – one” times!
A day. . .

Needless to say, we proceeded to the shoe store to remedy the situation. But I started to think – that’s exactly what we do as adults. We adapt to things that aren’t a healthy fit for our souls. Fear, patterns in relationships, comfort zones, emotional idols.

At first, we know something’s not best. We’re aware.Then, we begin to compensate in life to accommodate the pattern. To make it less frustrating.
It grows on us, becomes a part of us. We get comfortable with it.
And consider it good.

And then, God offers us better.

Maybe an opportunity to throw off chains of fear, stretch out our arms, and experience the thrill of a trust fall into His arms.

Or a gentle nudging from the Holy Spirit to take that first step.

An invitation from Him to be fragile, knowing full well that our souls are safely in the palm of His strong, but gentle hand. Nurtured, cared for, and protected.

The courage walk by faith, when sight’s screams are perpetual, and relentless.

And what do we do? We resist. I do. I start to tell Him all the reasons why my current this or that is fine. That I really don't want Him to move my cheese am okay with the status quo.

But what if?
What if instead, we said yes.
And freely received.

The next time our Father offers you or I a new pair of shoes, friend, let’s see them through His eyes.
And welcome them.

Let’s embrace the opportunities to clothe ourselves with His best, and the freedom to freely RUN!