The Lost Post

Photo by Nicole Honeywill on Unsplash

Last Saturday morning I thought I had the perfect window to write a post for this blog.

I had actually started it a couple of days before, and knew this topic would be relatable.

I sat down at my desk in my kitchen and began to type. The ideas seemed to be flowing and I was easily able to track down the quotes and scriptures I wanted to use. Soon, I realized that it was taking longer than I had anticipated - a lot longer...

It didn't take long, however, to feel my patience wavering with the seemingly endless string of innocent distractions and interruptions. A certain 5 year old kept wanting me to see the progress she was making in her attempt to clean her own room. Another child, this one 10, kept me informed on her plans to play next door with her BFF. Then occasionally the teen would seem to aimlessly wander into my space with a question or two that she, if she were honest with herself, already knew the answer to.

Finally, as I was trying to reread and edit the piece before hitting "post," I heard whistling.  Growing up, I can remember my dad walking around the house whistling all the time, but as I married woman I can't remember the last time I heard my husband whistle. Without thinking I found myself asking him, "Why are you whistling?!"

He shrugged his shoulders and responded, "Because I can?" I know and fully trust that he was not in any way trying to sabotage my writing. He is very, very supportive of this space - but the whistling was the proverbial straw that broke this camel's back.

In an act of desperation to finish, I picked up my laptop and retreated to my bedroom. As I closed my door, I reprimanded myself for not going to Starbucks or Panera or anywhere to write. I finished proofing the product of my last couple plus hours and hit "preview" to see what you would see on the blog. An error message appeared. As I tried to figure out what was happening, the same error message appeared a couple more times. Fearing what would be the inevitable, I hit "save." I had never lost a paper or a report or a post before . . .

There is a first for everything . . .

In the week that has passed, I have wrestled with losing my work, my thoughts, my time and my effort. I have nothing to show for it and I honestly mourned a little over it.

Maybe God didn't want me to post it? Maybe Satan didn't want me to post it? Maybe I should rewrite it? Maybe I shouldn't?

Maybe I will - one day, but today isn't that day.

As I have prayed over the whole debacle, I have realized that my lost blog post has brought to the forefront an ongoing, reoccurring struggle of mine. It's more than just being able to "sabbath," to set aside time to intentionally rest, reflect and recharge in the Spirit, in the body and in the mind - but I have a definite need and desire to be productive, to leave a mark, to have something to show for my time.

During the school year - which because of my job, is also my "work year," I procrastinate projects to the summer months. This May I actually wrote out a list of all these things I wanted to do with my summer - clean out the basement, clean out the garage, paint my bedroom, paint the playroom, re-pot some houseplants, have lunch dates with friends, read fiction books, spend quality time with my children.

With the end of June and the beginning of July descending upon us, I am very aware of quickly my summer is slipping away. There are SO many things I am wanting to accomplish and I am growing more aware that some things just won't get done. Last week when the blog didn't get posted I felt that I lost more than my words. The loss of an entire morning was seriously depressing.

The Holy Spirit has gently pointed out that I have a pronoun problem.

I never wanted this blog to be about me - but about Him. Maybe my motivations were off as I wrote that lost post. The heaviness surrounding its loss revealed many feelings of ownership and pride.

My prayer for this summer is that it would be a season where I had the time and could intentionally seek Him. After all, that has been a theme for in my Sunday school class for teens over the last 6 weeks.

But if I am giving Him my summer, then why is the stubborn wallpaper border I am removing from my bedroom walls so frustrating? It is taking so long, I have not opened the first can of paint yet! Again, my feelings and reactions reveal something about my heart. Not that I shouldn't try to paint my bedroom, but my attitude about the work has left me questioning: Have I really given my time and attention purposefully back to Him? Am I letting Him guide my steps and order my plans?

"Me."
"Myself."
"My."
"I."

He has used the lost post to show me that He IS answering my prayer for this summer.

I truly want it to be that I would seek Him first and trust that He would add all the things second.

Yet, when my post was lost, I couldn't just accept it and move on. I complained and felt crummy. I let my feelings cascade into a place of failure - because I had "wasted" my time and my energy. . . .

Maybe I was only supposed to process those feelings and write those words for myself. I couldn't look at it that way at the time. But with time, comes perspective...

Maybe the post was lost so I would re-examine the why I am doing the things I am doing this summer, so I can re-prioritize my to-do list, so I can accept that, like my house, my heart is still and will continue to be, a work in progress too.

Each day this summer is a gift. My girls will never be these ages again. August will all-too-quickly arrive and the busy routine will return. My prayer is that I will hold MY plans loosely so I can experience the blessings HE is gracing me with today.

I can now definitely and definitively say that I see His grace in the lost post.

Growing WITH Them

Photo by Nicole Honeywill on Unsplash

I took a deep breath, looked a few of them intentionally straight in the eyes, and sincerely apologized.

In over 25 years of student ministry, I can't ever remember starting a Bible study this way.

They were gracious and, I believe, appreciative of my honesty and transparency.

In the weeks that have passed since, I have been so very blessed by these teens, that I had to share.

I have learned from them. God has taught me so much. Prayers were answered. My eyes have been opened and I have grown.

 Before any of this could've begun to happen, I had to to confess my sin, first to God and then to them.

I'm not proud of my sins.  The specific ones that had led up to this particular confession are a couple of my go-to "favorites," the ones I commit without intention and seem to creep into every aspect of my perceptions and self-centered reactions.

The class had ceased to be "fun" for me to teach. The students attending seemed to be bored and apathetic. There was no evidence of anyone having any spiritual growth over the 3+ years I had been teaching it. I was frustrated with what I perceived to be there inattention and un-appreciation.  

Looking back, I am not sure how He did it, but He did. The Holy Spirit genteelly pointed out that I was the one who was bored and apathetic AND that I had gotten that way because I was self-righteously and pridefully judging these young believers.

My self-perception of being this "great" teacher who had written these "fantastic" Bible studies led me to fully embrace the belief that I was better than these students, who came every Sunday morning to Sunday school. After all, I had been a Christian far longer than anyone of them had even been alive and none of them would even agree to open our time together in a word of prayer. They were dependent on me to do that for them too. I looked at that at as another reason to judge and condemn them.

But God . . .

He reminded me that each believer is on his or her own journey with Him. He is working, weaving our paths to intertwine and cross in ways that exceed our imaginations. I am not to judge how close those teens are to God based on an hour or so I spend with them once a week. How can I really tell whether or not that they are growing spiritually on their journeys or not?

Prayerfully, I wanted the class to see each other and our time together as an oasis from the pressures they face in their worlds outside of church. Public school, jobs, family issues, expectations  (I was even heaping those on them) and more all weigh so much heavier on them than when "I was their age."

Through another Bible study I had been preparing for, I saw how Anna welcomed Baby Jesus and his parents to the temple. She encountered God, had lifelong prayers answered and then went and told other believers of the great thing God had done for her and was doing for all of them. This is what I wanted the teenagers to do - encourage each other by sharing how God was working in their lives and answering their prayers.

Now, we are all learning and growing together through His Word. They are starting to share how God is showing them cross-references in their personal Bible studies and how His Spirit is intervening to help them make right decisions. No one is volunteering to pray aloud - yet, but they are listening to each other - and I am listening to them too. How did God do this?

• First, I realized WE all had to open our eyes to see how God is working in our lives. Part of my confession that morning was just that - how the Holy Spirit had revealed my sin and impressed upon my heart to ask them for forgiveness. I needed them to know that I didn't have any special link to God because I was older or because I was their Sunday school teacher or because I had been a Christian longer or because I wasn't afraid to pray aloud publicly . . . 

• Second, I needed their help to hold me accountable to be intentional to seek God out. If I wanted God to use our 1 hour a week I needed to be praying about it. I needed to be in His Word, hearing what He was speaking into my heart. I needed to be listening too - not just checking it off my to-do list, but concentrating, meditating, processing what He saying. I was kinda, sorta doing those things, however, my heart was far from into it -especially in regards to them and this class. 

• Third, in order to be intentional -and to involve them in that intentionality, I enlisted their help in deciding our next course of study. Desiring for their buy-in and ownership, I asked them for what they wanted to study and then I listened.  3 John was chosen due to its brevity and I assigned them the homework of reading it before next week. And they did it!

• Fourth, I stopped preparing a lesson. I am not saying that I won't go back to prepping for our time together, but for now, I am wanting them to learn to read and to study and to apply scripture for themselves. It's a little disconcerting to start a lesson in front of teenagers and not know where we are going, but it has been so cool to see God's Word come alive to all of us at the same time. They have had insights I didn't see. They are seeing how even this little book tucked toward the end of the New Testament has applications to their teenage lives. 

This has very much been a group effort and, for the first time in a long time, I am looking forward to my time with them each week. 3 John may only consist of 15 verses, but we all seem to be really learning it as has already taken us over a month to go through it verse-by-verse. 

All this started when I confessed my sin. My sin had led to arrogance and had stifled not only my journey with God, but had directly affected the class' journeys too. Sin is never private and never limits its effects to the one committing it. 

I tried to talk myself out of asking for their forgiveness. I mean I knew God had forgiven me, but I also knew that I would still be a slave to my sin of pride if I didn't swallow it and own it. The results were so worth it. 

The courage the Holy Spirit gave me to confess aloud to the group cultivated the safe environment the students needed for them to be transparent and share what God was doing in their lives too. Once my sin was out in the open, they then had freedom to share their ideas and impressions of what God is doing in their individual lives. If, as their leader, I can't be real then I can't expect them to be vulnerable either. 

Their forgiveness has been sweet and freeing. No longer do I need to put up a facade that I have it altogether. I don't have to have all the answers. I have laid aside my pride and can genuinely say, "I don't know. What do you think?" 

Without my self-righteousness and pride in the way I can learn and grow WITH them . . . You know, I think this sounds kinda like New Testament discipleship . . . 

Love, Life and Loss

Photo by Aung Soe Min on Unsplash

I finished the novel on Sunday afternoon.

It was good. 

It is over 48 hours later and I am still thinking about it. 

I didn’t see the plot twist coming until it hit me as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. The author did his job. I am an “all in” reader and I was invested in these characters. I am sure my husband would’ve read between the lines, realized what the true conflict was, and predicted the ending - but I did not. 

Relating to the author’s description of the couple’s romance and love, I was rooting for their separation to result in reconciliation and the book to end in that “happily ever after.” However, that author, that really good author, had other ideas . . .  

What novel is this you ask? I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who may pick it up - or for whomever might find it on Netflix or at the local Redbox when they watch the movie version. So, I will not share the title, but it has really made me think and feel and pray . . . 

As a result, I need to write to process these thoughts and feelings and prayers.

The main character spends a great deal of the book “flashing back” in correspondence to his wife. Their relationship from the start was rare and epic, a kind of fantasy, fairy-tale, what every girl grows up longing for. Through his messages to her, I liked her and found myself rooting for her, for him and for them - the identity of the two of them together. 

In the last two chapters, the main character reveals that his wife had died nearly four years before the action of the book even began. For four years he was still just as in love and as dedicated to her has he had ever been. For these four years he had existed by simply putting one foot in front of the other and doing whatever the day in front of him required. As he did so, he continued to buy her flowers, spend time by her side and share his life with her as much as he could. 

There were things left unsaid when she had died. He had regret and carried shame. He felt responsible and longed for forgiveness he felt he didn’t deserve. 

In the middle of this inner turmoil the reader doesn't realize he is in, he meets someone new. Actually, they are thrown together in an impossible, life-and-death situation. They face insurmountable odds and bond through their hardships. He tells her of his wife and when he does, he speaks of her in the present tense - as if she is waiting at home for his return. This new woman in his life trusts that he is married and is envious of this amazing love he shares with his wife. In all ways he stays true to his wife and still sees himself very much married to her. 

In the end, he shares with this new woman the truth about the circumstances that made him a widower. In the end, he is able to love both of them . . . his love for his first love never faded but made him able to love this new lady, but in a different, equally amazing way. In the end, the new woman doesn’t take the place of the dead wife but in respect to her, is able to help him heal. 

As I think about these fictional people, I am well aware that they are very much just that - fictional. There was a lot about the story that could be considered contrived or too coincidental to be true - However, these three individuals were incredibly relatable to me, but I didn’t realize why until this morning. 

My sister-in-law and I have been messaging over Facebook - you know on the “private” Messenger part. I had seen a video posted and thought of her. Not wanting to publicly “tag” her in it, I sent it through Messenger. She responded with a couple of links to articles that reverberated the same ideas. As I read them, I realized that the novel I have just finished is in many ways her life. 

She was not involved in a life-and-death battle for her physical ability to breath, but she has been through the trauma of trying to will her heart to keep beating after the sudden death of my brother-in-law, her daughter’s daddy, the love of her life, her husband - James. 

In complete honesty, she has communicated to me that she has not and will never “move on.” James is still very much a part of her everyday and, because of the love he had for her and she still has for him - this will always be her reality. She will always be his widow. 

This is true but not in spite of her new husband. It isn’t at his expense. He knows he will never replace James and has not tried to do so. Actually, he is pretty remarkable. Somehow he knows that she is able to love him the way she does because of her continued devotion to James. He has lost a wife too and together they can keep their memories of their spouses very much still alive. 

Some people may not get that. They may criticize her or him or them, but if that is the case, then I wonder what exactly those judges actually understand about love and loss and life. 

Through James’ life, the life of my grandmother, the life of my mother-in-law and others, I have received and given love. My understanding of love has grown even in and through their deaths. They have not, nor will they ever be replaced. However,  in their absence I am able to give and receive love from others and from God, Himself. 

He understands my hurt and my pain. He loves me in and through it all. 

His grace has allowed me to put one foot in front of the other and has exponentially grown my my faith through my losses. His resurrection is my hope and His Word promises that what is yet to be is better than what has been. I may not understand that, but I know it’s true. 

This morning my devotion was about how the pain of this life pales in comparison to the eternal glory that is to come. Paul, when he wrote these words, was not belittling the pain of this life, but rather encouraging  the believer with the truth that what comes next is richer, is far better and for them to strive to have an eternal perspective on today’s hurt. 

The love that follows loss of life is so multifaceted and rich. Honestly, I believe it is God-sized and God-given. It shows us more of Him and His character and His love for us. It enables us to love others deeper and live with greater appreciation for His good gifts. 

The novel I finished Sunday was not a “Christian” fiction book. I thought I was reading a suspenseful  survival story. Yet, God spoke to me loud and clear about how He defines love - It is bigger than the love of a spouse. It is greater than the limits that we put on it. It is honestly deeper than our comprehension. 

And this is how He feels toward us . . . 

Still There?

It's been a long time since I've posted.

It's not that I haven't wanted to post or that I didn't have anything to say.

If I had posted it would have been forced or done out of some self-imposed obligation. I never wanted that to be the purpose behind this blog or why I write.

My unintentional hiatus has been filled with both the busiest and that laziest of days.

"May-cember" was jammed filled with 4 recitals, 2 academic awards ceremonies, 2 weddings, a few rehearsals and my niece's high school graduation. Parties were attended and gifts were given. My planner was filled with what was happening when and list upon list of things to remember and to do.

The month ended with a much needed family vacation to Destin, a place we have retreated to before. It felt like home. With toes in the sand and sun soaking my skin, I rested and worshipped. I was in awe of my smallness beside the Gulf and of my God's greatness, faithfulness and power.

I had taken my computer to the condo so I could blog in the early mornings before we hit the sand and surf or in the late nights after the laughter from the game night had subsided into the sweet sounds of my family sleeping. Inspiration was there, but the words to type never came.

We returned home to a much slower pace and I found myself delighted with the time to paint my nails, read a fiction book for fun and start the process of prepping my bedroom for a procrastinated painting project. Even with Vacation Bible School responsibilities, and lessons God was pressing on my heart - I just did not have the words to write.

Then last night, after some good food and good fellowship with some good friends, I came home and I could not, not write. I had to sort out all my thoughts and feelings despite the lateness of the hour. When my head finally hit the pillow, the damn had broken and I hope to post quite a bit more in the next few days.

Just as busy as May was and as slow as June has unfolded, I am reminded that like the waves at the beach there should be an ebb and flow to my days.

As Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for everything. There are days that should be productive where the checklist is completed and sleep comes with the satisfaction that progress was made. Then there are days that should only produce rest and that night sleep still can come because of faith that God is God over all the things I didn't do that day. He is glorified in both.

There may be seasons of routine, structure and productivity, but there is great benefit for those times to be interrupted. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually there is profit for those days where we break from routine, from structure and we find a new definition of productivity.

Despite my plans and how I define my days - God like the constant, never-ending rhythm of the waves lapping the shore. He is faithful, providing countless graces to meet needs I never thank Him for. He is findable as I pray and search His Word, He is there. He is unfathomable in His immense greatness especially combined with His intimate involvement in my life.

I may not be as disciplined in my blogging and writing as I would like. But, it isn't about me. He is the constant. He is the routine and the structure that produces His definition of productivity in and through me.

I haven't failed by not posting in so long. Rather, I pray that in my silence on this site I have been obedient to Him. I hereby give myself permission NOT to live up to my own expectations of myself and this blog. I hereby give it back to Him.

(Just so you know, I know that I will have to give it back to Him again and again.)

Redeeming Mother's Day

Me and The Three That Call Me "Mom"

Today is full of a bunch of different emotions for a bunch of different reasons.

Mother's Day. 

This is the first Mother's Day since my grandmother's passing. I miss her, but I also hurt for my mom, whom I know misses her so much more. 

May is the month the baby I miscarried would have been born. I hurt for the friends who see today as one of "what ifs" or "why not me." 

I have already been showered with gifts and attention from my three little ladies who call me "mom" and I have thanked God for the incredible blessing it is to be their mother. I feel grateful.

Currently, my feet are propped on the ottoman as I sit on the couch watching a movie with the girls as their daddy is slaving away in the kitchen making me a feast of my choosing. I am relaxed. 

There are lots of good reasons to celebrate this holiday. There are also more than a few valid reasons to explain why people would want to skip it too. A quick google search shows that there is even a little controversy about the origins of this day. It seems the lady who began the holiday wanted it revoked after a few years. 

Mother's Day has not, is not, and most likely will never be a religious holiday - BUT, it is a good opportunity to stop and reflect on a few things spiritually. This is what I am thinking about today: 

• First, I am thankful that God saw fit to bless me with my mom. She instilled in me a deep love of God and His church. I am who I am because of who she is.

• Second, I appreciate beyond measure that God's plan for me included motherhood. I do not take their role in my life for granted. They are simply fun. I love their giggles and their games. It is a privilege to watch them grow. I love being not just any ol' mom -- I love being their mom. 

• Third, I understand that my role in their lives is a God-ordained calling and ministry. Loving and caring for them requires prayer on a whole other level. My mission field is first and foremost our home. My deepest desire is for them to know and love Christ with a growing and abiding passion. The Holy Spirit saves and sanctifies them, but I am fully aware of my influence to cultivate an environment for His work. 

• Fourth, Paul writes in 1 Timothy about how women are saved through child-bearing. This passage can be confusing, but with a look a little deeper, his meaning is clear. God uses our kids to make us more like His Son. Being a mother is sanctifying. It is hard and wonderful and ugly and beautiful all at the same time. My kids can point out and bring out my sinful weaknesses. But, they can also highlight the areas and aspects of my life and heart where God has done the most work and brought the most healing. 

• Fifth, Mother's Day, with all its expectations and baggage, is a reminder that I am not my kids and my kids are not me. They are their own God created people. He determined to set us together in this family. They are not my identity and, as they grow, they will realize I am not theirs. He can and does things for them that I cannot - that was never mine to do. He holds them and keeps them. His plans for them are bigger and better and higher than mine because He is bigger and better and higher than me. 

• Finally, I know who I am has been set by God and determined in Christ - that reality is bigger than my kids. My purpose is higher than them, and that's pretty high. I do not live for them I live for Christ. When I fail, His grace covers me over and over again. It is more than okay that I am not Instagram/Pinterest perfect. In my weaknesses, He is glorified. I am satisfied not in my role as a mother, but in who I am in Christ. 

Yes, my feelings today are multi-facted and my thoughts are deep. But, overall, I am using Mother's Day to be grateful, to reflect, but to be in the moment. 

Now I am going to get off this computer and play some board games with my girls. 

Sanctification and NKOTB

Last night was a blast. Honestly, it was the most fun I have had in a long time and it came at the perfect time. May is crazy, busy with so much to do and to keep up with. The break was needed - dinner with a good friend, the drive to Nashville and a concert full of memories -old ones and new ones meshing together to make it a night we would not soon forget.

Appropriately named "The Mixed Tape Tour" filled Bridgestone Arena with thousands of my peers. We came in droves from all over the mid-state to relive our tweens and teens with the best boy band ever - New Kids on the Block and their guests - Tiffany, Debbie Gibson, Salt n Peppa, and Naughty by Nature.

They gave a great show with high energy and loud acoustics. The start time was about the same time most of the crowd would usually be winding down after we've put our kids to bed and tidied up the dinner dishes.  Personally, I head to the shower about that time to begin to unwind- but last night we were just getting started. Honestly,  I was so into the music and the show, I didn't find myself starting to yawn until my friend and I emerged from the arena into the cool, spring night, air.

On the way back to Clarksville, we shared our impressions of the evening and kept telling the other that it had been "so very fun." Honestly we were at exit 40 on 24 before the ringing in our ears started to subside and were no longer having to shout at the other to be heard. The process it took our ears to adjust was just the first of several reminders that we aren't as young as we like to think we are. As the miles slipped by, we talked about how some of the stars had aged REALLY well and some of the others - not so much!

From our seats we could watch the "Boys," now most definitely men - all in their mid to late 40s, dance and sing looking very much like they did when we first saw them in tour over 30 years ago. Their dance moves were spot on, resembling a cardio workout that would overwhelm the both of us.

BUT, when the camera would zoom in for a close up shot, it was clear that they weren't the same guys I first saw in concert at Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati. The Reds no longer play in that stadium because it no longer exists and hasn't for many, many baseball seasons.

Guys do age more gracefully, and while I would love to boast of Debbie's curves, she and Tiffany both seemed to dress the part of the teen idols they had been 30 years ago. Maybe that was intentional? Not dressing "their age" to try to allow all of us in the audience to time travel at least in our minds to when we were all wearing those hem lines and hairstyles?

Songs and lyrics that I had not thought of or heard in years, maybe decades, flooded back to the tip of my tongue when the first few notes blasted into the arena. Suddenly all the strangers around me were like friends as we were united by the music of our youth.

The tunes weren't just those of the featured bands. Other music from the same time frame was played and the thousands in attendance sang in one accord. Even if the musical genre was different from the boy band sound, we all still knew the words and tunes. The evening was truly like singing along with a favorite mixtape from our middle school years.

Even one of the singers, Donnie Wahlburg to be exact, questioned aloud into the mic, "How do you follow that?!" when the entire audience had sung in unison and in tune one of the songs of another band. Honestly, it reminded me of a worship experience when the leader bows away from the microphone and the congregation continues to sing the chorus without his voice in the forefront.

There were other echos of spiritual things - to see that many people gathered behind and unified in song gave me glimpses of heaven, what it will be like to worship the only One truly worthy of worship. The fact we are creatures created to worship could not have been disputed in how the crowd erupted when "The Boys in the Band" took the stage.

Yet, for me, there was something a little more personal to take away from the night's experiences. I was reminded that I was no longer 13 or 14 and I am okay with that. I may have a cardiologist and an orthopedist among my growing list of health providers that end in "-ist." But all I need to do is look in the mirror to know that I am not physically the same.

I would like to think that I have aged pretty well on the outside, but I also know and thank God that I have aged on the inside too. A lot has happened to and around me in the last 30 years that God has actively used to shape and mold me. His Word tells me that He will finish the work He began in me and, because of that promise, I trust that I look a lot more like Jesus now than I did way back then.

Some of the lyrics we sang last night were a little more racy than I remember. Maybe then I was just naive and didn't really know, or want to know, what I was singing. However, now, that ignorance is gone and I can't deny that I completely know what all the lyrics are insinuating - or outright saying. I found a "mom voice" asking inside my head, "How would you feel if your daughter was singing this song around the house?" At the very least, I know for sure she and I would have a long conversation about a thing or two.

It's good to look back. It's good to see how far we've come. It's good to remember good times. It is good to reflect on God's good grace, how He has provided and been faithful.

Last night was good for all of those reasons too.

Does anyone know when the tour is coming back to Nashville? As my childhood fave, Joey McIntyre, pointed out, Mick Jagger is still performing in his 70s so we should still have another 30 or so years to hear "The Right Stuff." I guess we will just have to take it "Step by Step" and be "Hanging Tough" while we wait. My friend and I are already committed to each other to go next time!

Unexpected Grace

Here is my "Unexpected Grace." 

Normally, like 9.5 times out of 10, I enter and exit our house through the garage. In all our comings and goings, it feels like I do that at least 20 times a day. So it is not unusual for me to go a few days without actually taking the few steps off our small porch and down the brick pathway to the driveway.

It is usual for me however, to see Wally off out the front door and to swing the front door open to allow sunlight to fill the entry through the closed storm door. This afternoon, as I did so, I noticed something on the front walk right in front of the steps.

Small and white and thin, I had to take a closer look.

In my amazement I realized it was a petunia. Somehow, someway, the small but sturdy flower had grown up between the bricks.

I had not planted it there. I have not yet bought my petunias from Lowe's. Every spring, around Mother's Day, I purchase the small plants already blooming to fill my porch pots and put a few around the geraniums that I buy too. I want to have the green thumb and the patience to plant my flowers from seeds, but I can't seem to control those little boogers very well, so I opt to exert my control over my flowers where and how I can.

 But . . . this little guy seemed to come out of nowhere.

I called for my oldest daughter to come see. She obeyed, but failed to understand what I was so excited about. When Wally came home, he walked right passed it, probably narrowly missing it with his man feet, and humored me when I drug him back outside to show him the unlikely bloom. My middle daughter noticed it right away and seemed to connect with my awe from where the tiny flower had originated, but didn't really appreciate how this little annual was acting all perennial.

I shared with my good friend Ms. Maxine about this little flower when she called with a work related question. I told her I couldn't figure out where the petunia had come from and how it had managed to thrive in such an unlikely place. Without hesitation, she said, "Well, by God's grace - that's how."

Instantly, I knew she was right. As I pondered the grace of God that would grow an unexpected flower in an unexpected place, I realized that in a way, His grace was extending far beyond growing a plant to create a little excitement in my Monday. He was revealing so much more to me.

In both my home and work lives, May is a crazy, busy month, rivaling December with all its responsibilities and obligations. Recitals, award ceremonies, field days, a birthday, staff evaluations, parent involved programs, teacher appreciation gifts . . . There is a lot going on.

It is easy to become quickly overwhelmed and extremely weary less than a full week into the month. When do I have time to connect with God? How can I fill my cup with Him - especially when I know that I need Him the most?

That little flower today was like God showing me that He is in the middle of all the crazy. He can be found. In the simplicity of a flower, if I open my eyes to appreciate that He has not left me but more than that - He has deliberately shown me that if I have eyes to see and a spirit to appreciate - He is still revealing Himself to me. He is more than meeting my needs. He is answering my prayers and is continually revealing Himself to me.

His Word tells me that I will find Him when I seek Him. He is faithful to allow me to find Him. Wasn't this the lesson I had tried to teach the teens in Sunday morning Bible study only yesterday? Today, I found Him in a petunia growing between the bricks of my front walk.

I want to contemplate this small, amazing grace and appreciate what God has done.

I want my eyes to see where He is working, and I don't want to be too busy that I miss it or worse yet step on it in my ignorance.

I want to value these moments of grace, but I know that has to start with recognizing them as they come.

I may not be in control. I may not know how everything is going to come together. But, God is in control and He knows how to develop beauty around and in me that I cannot begin to fathom.

God, these next few weeks are insanely busy. I know that I will only be able to appreciate these big moments and take care of all that needs to be done with the help of Your hand. Thank You for the small petunia with all it's deeper demonstration of grace. I sure didn't deserve it, yet You are extremely faithful to answer my requests of You to show me more of You. Thank You for the assurance that just as You grew a small flower between the bricks, You will continue to meet my needs for my growth too.  .  . even in this particular busy and unlikely season, You are most definitely still at work above and below the surface.