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.

Good Friday's Cross

Recently, I was excited to attend an event where one of my favorite authors would be speaking. One of my best girlfriends and I grabbed a nice dinner beforehand and we made our way to the venue. Before we found our seats, we saw and connected with ladies from all over town and various phases of our lives.

The worship was on point.

The Holy Spirit moved.

It was definitely where I was supposed to be that night.... but....

I couldn't put my finger on it. My girlfriend and I spoke about it some as we left that night. My sister-in-law also chatted with me about it the next day. Another friend who attended shared with me in the hall at church a couple of days later. - We were all glad we were there. We all felt the Spirit move - yet we all felt something was lacking....


This morning, in my devotional time, on Good Friday - it clicked . . . .

The text that night was Romans 8:1. The title of the tour was "The Freedom Project" and the passage was perfect. The author/speaker effectively and eloquently, transparently and profoundly led the women in attendance to lay down the sins of our past and challenged us to faithfully live out the truth of the verse -

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Romans 8:1

By God's grace, He allowed us to feel the pain of exposing our sins . By His grace, we found accountability in confessing them aloud. By grace, we saw our sins for what they are, we felt real regret for their presence and prevalence in our lives, and we were able to feel forgiveness for what had been exposed. 

As one lady yelled from the back of the room, "There is NO CONDEMNATION!" and we all clapped and we all cheered.

So what was the hang up? Why couldn't I just chalk it up to a great night and move on? 

This morning, I read a devotional though by John Piper and he used the word "condemnation" and it all came into a clear focus. He wrote, "The death of Christ secures our freedom from condemnation (Romans 8:1). It is as sure that we cannot be condemned as it is sure that Christ died.... Condemnation is gone not because there isn't any, but because it has already happened..."

There is no condemnation for my sin BECAUSE Jesus took it for me. His death on the cross was the condemnation that my sin deservedly required. Good Friday is "good" because the price for my freedom from condemnation has been paid in full. Good Friday is ALL about condemnation. 

I was thankful for the "late" date of Easter this year. I thought it would give me more time to prepare my heart and the hearts of my daughters. But everything I tried so far this year was feeling coerced and contrived. Nothing was feeling authentic, but more like I was just going through the motions. 

It came to a head at dinner last night as Wally and I tried to talk to the girls about the significance and gravity of the night before Good Friday. Maybe it was Satan's distractions or our lack of prayer, maybe it was our approach or their own internal battle with their unrepentant hearts - but it just wasn't happening. (Honestly, it was most likely a combination of all of those things.)

Disappointment would be a good way to describe my mood as I prayed before bed last night. It had been an overall really good day with lots to be thankful for, but this was not spiritually how I wanted to spend this holy weekend ending in Easter. I asked for His intervention and He definitely delivered this morning. 

As I read my devotionals and felt the ending of the message started by that speaker dawn on my heart, the weight of the glory of Good Friday became real. 

Bible scholars call it "substitutionary atonement." Christ took my place, my punishment, my condemnation, that I may know His freedom, live my created purpose and pursue a relationship with God. 

"It is good to look back and celebrate the rescue of grace. . . . Grace lives a the intersection between clarity of sight and hope for the future." These were a few of the words of Paul David Tripp's in his devotional for today in his book "New Morning Mercies." 

"Intersection" - a crossroads, where two ideas converge . . . My mind went to the vertical and horizontal beams of Good Friday's cross . . . 

At the cross, grace allows me to look back and look within and leave my sins. Grace also enables me to look ahead at my present circumstances and future destinations with hopeful resolve. Vertically, my relationship with God is restored and my future is secured. Horizontally, I can see God restoring and redeeming my past, my relationships and my everything for His purposes. 

This morning, the "therefore" and the "in Christ Jesus" of Romans 8:1 is my mediation and my worship's focus. He heard my prayer last night. He wrapped up the spiritual longing I had been feeling. He began to truly prepare my heart to celebrate why I have no condemnation in Christ Jesus this Easter season. 

Now that He has placed my heart in the right position, I pray that He will use me to influence the other four hearts that call this house home too.... 

(By the way, I hope this author comes back to Clarksville, or Nashville or somewhere close soon . . . I will definitely be buying tickets!)

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Better-Than-Disney Ending

If you're a fan of animation, particularly of the Disney genre, you will know my approximate age when I tell you that I remember going to see the Disney Renaissance movies in theaters for their original releases. After a couple of decades of poorly reviewed films, the animation department released hit after hit: The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, Aladdin.

I loved the adventure described in each plot, but it was the romance that kept me coming back for more and made me a fan for life. Still loving these movies, you can find me curled up on the couch with or without my daughters, munching on popcorn and engrossed in these films I have seen dozens of times. I can literally recite many of them, line-by-line from memory.

My favorite fiction books, sitcoms, dramas, movies - whatever mode of being told a story - all have one great thing in common. They all end the way that they are supposed to end. Yes, many if not most of the time the endings are incredibly predictable. The iconic phrase "Happily Ever After" may even scroll across the screen or be typed at end of the final page.

This idea of how things are supposed to be, the ending we all long for is actually a grace given to us by our Creator. We are supposed to look around at our world, at our lives and come to the same conclusion - things are NOT the way that they should be. This longing for justice and happy endings and everything to be neatly tied with a bow, is an internal compulsion that forces us to seek answers and to work to make things better.

It is in this seeking for answers and working for better that I have found purpose and meaning to my life and to all the crazy that is within it. As I walk with Jesus and grow in my relationship with Him, through His Word and prayer and His work inside of me, I have found the answers I need and the source of all that is good.

Don't get me wrong - my life is not easy, but it is easier than some, and often there are more why's in my prayers than thank you's, but I trust the One with the answers. The more I learn and know of Him, the more faith I have in His power and His ability to redeem the failures in my life and make sense of the chaos around me.

There are relationships in my life that are not what I would want them to be. Parenting is hard and I know from years of student ministry that there are no guarantees or warrantees on particular methods. I am often failing and my fears of not being up to the task at work, at home, and/or at church keep me longing for the day when my strivings shall cease and I will no longer be forced to face life in this fallen place.

Honestly, this morning after trying to parent two in our church pew for disobedience during the church service and feeling completely unsuccessful in my attempt to worship, I had to leave the service to check my makeup. As the deacon prayed the offertory prayer, I slipped out of my seat to find I didn't look like the total mess and fraud I felt like.

Call it spiritual warfare or my own lack of faith or some kind of combination of both, but when I left the service this morning I felt defeated.

I want the ending now. I know it is coming, the day when Christ returns or calls me home, when everything is set right and good triumphs over evil and all is truly well with my soul - however it is God that chooses to bring this present age to its conclusion.

In the meantime, I am struggling with my perspective on it all.

Somedays I feel entitled to certain endings to specific "storylines" in my life. Somedays I just want to wash my hands of the job, the ministry responsibility and the relationship. Somedays I just want to escape into a Disney movie with a box of Sour Patch Kids AND a Milky Way Midnight, pretending like this isn't my reality at all.

Yet, I know that God is at work. He isn't wasting my time or His as I wait for the conclusions of it all. He has an intentional plan as He is actively working in all these "plot lines" of my life and those of all of us who are called according to His purposes. He is in the seemingly insignificant details and in the major twists too - both of individuals and of nations.

It is all bigger than me. Yes, it is war - there are forces unseen locked in battle all around. But it is His grace that is evident in it all.

It is grace that things are not right and good and easy in life SO I will seek Him, acknowledging my need for Him and my dependance on Him.

It is grace that He uses these same circumstances to make me more like Him, cultivating His fruit within me and somehow using me for His desired and determined outcome.

It is grace that He is leading me to accept, yes at times with heartache, that things are not as they should be.

It is grace that will eventually let me see ALL His promises fulfilled and experience the most epic of "Happily Ever Afters" that there will ever be.

In the meantime, at this point in the story - I seek Him, trusting Him by attempting to loosely embrace the brokenness around me. I pray that then He can bring even more beauty from these acknowledged ashes, and that He will use my awareness of the effects of sin in my life in ways that I cannot begin to fathom so that He will receive all the recognition - because, simply put, this is NOT the way that I would do things.

It is all from and for and to and through Him. This is my better-than-Disney ending.

Facing Fears By Holding Hands

I could tell from her cry that the fear was as sincere as it could be. Mommas know the differences in their kids' cries. It starts when they're young - there is the hungry cry, the tired cry, the change-my-diaper cry. . . As the baby gets older and is better able to communicate, some of the cries stop altogether, but there are a few tears that linger - the hurt cry, the angry cry and the scared cry.

At five and a half, Eliza had not cried the scared cry- not like this - in a long, long time. I recognized it instantly though and my heart hurt for her heart. I got on her level and did my best to help teach her how to address this very real, very valid fear.

"Look at me Eliza. What do you know to be true? Look at me. Let's think this through. Look at me. Look at me. The hippo isn't real. Look at me. It's just a robot. It can't get you. It won't get you. Look at me. I am right here. You aren't alone. Look at me. I won't let it get you because it can't get you."

Her sobs slowed and she slowly began to repeat the truths after me - "The hippo isn't real. Mommy is here. It's just a robot." We hugged and I took her hand as we proceeded into the restaurant to look at the aquarium of Finding Nemo type fishies.

Parenting that day outside of the Rainforest Cafe of the Opry Mills Mall, was definitely a moment where I felt the weight of my responsibility as a parent and, also was reminded about my role as a child of God as well.

Two of my three daughters have been deathly afraid of the life-sized animatronic hippopotamus outside of this particular restaurant. We've even nicknamed the whole mall, The Hippo Mall. On one level, it seems something silly to be scared about, but from their small vantage point in a time of their life where they are trying to ascertain reality from fantasy - it is a legitimate some thing to fear.

Eliza had been dreading that moment when we would arrive in THAT corner of the mall. Her feelings were so overwhelming, she could not rationally think through what she knew to be true. She could not talk herself off the ledge.  Her cry was one of desperation and despair.

As her parent, I know that she is old enough to handle this kind of thing - if she knows how. As her parent, I know that is my responsibility to teach her how to face this fear. As her parent, I know that teaching her to handle this fear gives me an opportunity to teach her how to face other fears, bigger ones, scarier ones, ones that won't be so easy to conquer.

So, I taught her to focus on the things she knew to be true. By teaching her to speak truths aloud, she can hear her own voice reminding her heart of what her brain already knows. That silly hippo no longer has a hold over her. His power is lessoned as her faith is strengthened.

Walking away with her little hand still grasping mine, I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit.

This is why I read the Bible daily.
This is why I should memorize more scripture.
This is why I need to intentionally preach the gospel to myself.

I had studied a long time ago the inverse proportional relationship between faith and fear. When one increases, the other decreases. The more faith you have, the less fear and vice versa. If my faith increases, my fear will decrease. . .

When I find myself afraid, I need to do the very things I taught Eliza to do in the midst of that busy Nashville shopping mall. . . .

Look at Him.  - Just as she struggled to take her eyes off the thing causing her fear and refocus on her loving parent, I know I struggle too. I can't seem to take my eyes off my circumstances - that they will get worse or get me while I stop to look to God. Yet, He gently, consistently and patiently calls me to look at Him.

What do you know to be true?  - My God is bigger, My God is stronger, My God is higher than any other. (Do you know that chorus too?) He loves me. He has good plans for me. He will never leave me or forsake me. As I claim these truths, He shifts my perspective. What seemed so large, so overwhelming and so frightening no longer seems so daunting. He is given the rightful, dominate place and position over me and my fears.

Just as I reminded Eliza that I loved her and was there to take care of her - our God loves and cares for His children in the same way.

A few of the most fear-filled moments in my life were the hours I spent birthing our three loves. The Holy Spirit never failed to bring truth to the forefront of my mind as I dealt with painful contractions. The specific passages were ones I had memorized years before, but focusing on their timeless truth helped me to overcome my fears.

Despite His continual faithfulness in circumstances big and small, I still so easily become irrational and, at times, inconsolable over things that should not scare me. Satan knows my deepest insecurities and unashamedly exploits them.

His grace intervenes. Praise Him!

I need to be reminded of His presence in my darkest places and I need to know His truth reigns over all my feeble attempts of bravery and bravado. The Holy Spirit whispers, reminding me to look at Him, to reflect on what I know to be true.  As I speak the promises of God aloud, my heart hears the truth my brain knows and I am encouraged and empowered. My faith increases and my fear decreases.

Just as Eliza and I moved on, hand-in-hand, so will I. As faith, slowly and surely displaces my fears, I can walk confidently, holding the hand of my God who understands and controls what I cannot.


Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash

What's Next?

Alright. What's next?

The things that have to be done are done.

The house is pretty clean for once. All 2 and half bathrooms are clean. The laundry is caught up. The girls are doing well in school. There is no crisis at work. My marriage is in a good place.

The calendar is full of the average, ordinary events, but nothing big or demanding is written on any of the squares.

The projects that have been pushed to someday, seem approachable and doable.

Life has a way of coming in and out like the tide. The waves never stop, but with certain phases of the moon, the water seems calmer, nicer and even cleaner. There are definitely phases of storms with all their uncertainty of what could happen next - how high the water might come and what destruction might be left in its path.

Right now though, things are good. I am content. We have found a normal and it isn't crazy. By God's grace, this phase of life is definitely "doable" and that kinda scares me . . .

It leaves me asking Him, "What's next?"

In my devotions and Bible studies, I have been reading over and over again how God's grace isn't always good from our perspective, how I should embrace trials and tribulations as one of His followers, and how if Jesus was a man of sorrows I can expect opportunities to emulate Him in sorrowful times of my own.

One of the take-aways in the Sunday school lesson this morning, was how God's protection, provision and presence goes with us - even if going puts in the fiery furnace of Shadrach, Meshach and Adednego. These guys stood firm on their solid knowledge of their God and told the king that even if God didn't save them from the fire, He was still God and still worth dying for.

I know God uses the calm periods in-between life's storms to prepare us for what's ahead. He teaches us the truths we need while we are in the light, so He can develop them in the dark when it is hard to see, hard to trust, and hard to go on.

So, I find myself questioning and thinking, "What's next?"

Is some bad news coming with the next ring of the phone? Is there a hard situation on the horizon that I need to be poised to work through? Is that pain that won't leave my knee a thing? Should I make a doctor's appointment?

Or has God placed me in this current phase because He is wanting something more for me or something else from me?  Is there something I am missing that I should be doing? Is there a relationship I could be working on? A friend to serve? A ministry to support? To start?

I don't know the answer to the question, "What's next?" But I know He knows and that is enough.

Ruth Chou Simmons of Gracelaced often says, "You don't have to be blooming to be growing." Maybe that is exactly where God has me right now. Maybe He is preparing my heart for hard days ahead. Maybe He is prepping me to take on a new project. Maybe He just wants me to be content with Him and not be looking for whatever's next.

So, I will press on. I will read my Bible and pray. I will worship and press into Him. I will love on my family and serve my people.

And, in the meantime, I might actually get my hall bathroom painted!

Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash

Big Deal, Big Day

I remember when I used to think 40 was old.

Then Wally turned 40 and it didn't seem THAT old. Now, it's nearly 3 years in my past and 40 doesn't seem old at all anymore.

Today is the day that 50 no longer seems THAT old. Yep, today Wally is 50 years old, half a century, five decades . . .

He threatened me not to plan anything special for his birthday and I promised him I wouldn't. That would be my gift to him, not making a big deal out of his big day. If you know him at all, then you know that is the perfect gift for him.

Wally has never wanted a celebration for his birthday. He would be happiest if we just ignored it and just kept swimming through life. He doesn't want the recognition. He doesn't need the validation. He likes the appreciation, but receives it best in small, sincere portions.

For years I have told him that he is important to us and definitely worth the hoopla of cake, candles and gifts. For years, he has humored me and played along, but he has only longed for the hubbub of the day to end and for the normalcy of March 4 to commence.

I normally try to find a birthday card and had pretty good luck on Valentine's, but this year I didn't even try. (Especially after my fruitless card search on our anniversary!) Honestly, I hope that these words here, might try to convey what I am thinking and feeling on this major milestone birthday.

Our marriage is special. Our relationship is unique. My husband truly is one-of-a-kind. God uses Wally to make it so. He designed me for him and him for me. He is the God of details and in His sovereignty, leaves nothing to chance or happy coincidence.

So often, I try to explain this to Wally, how I feel about him and how blessed I am to call him my husband. I want to add more descriptive words calling him my best friend and telling him that he is my favorite person to spend time with. I tell him how I trust his counsel and respect his Biblical knowledge. My feelings for him have only deepened over time and my appreciation of his hands-on approach to parenting has only grown. He truly shares the household responsibilities with me and we both often look at the other, commenting on how we are glad we are in this thing together.

Lately, as I have contemplated Wally's fulfillment of the role of husband, I realize that I don't need him to be my best friend, or my teammate. Somehow, somewhere the role of husband and dad has been cheapened in our culture and society. Whether it is the "dumb dad" stereotype in sitcoms or the emasculated, follow-the-strong-woman part many men succumb to in the relationship - there seems to be a disconnect from what a husband is Biblically supposed to be from what a husband has become.

Wally may have been a little older when we married. He has not yet been married even half of his life, but in his pursuit of Jesus, he epitomizes what I understand a Biblical husband and father to be. He loves me as Christ does. He gives up his wants and desires to see mine fulfilled. He speaks truth to my heart. He apologizes to our daughters without condition. He serves us with no task being beneath his masculinity.

The name "husband" should mean all of these things. The name and role should not be cheapened by our contemporary culture that is challenging and changing so very much.  When a Biblical worldview is skewed, then everything is up for grabs. The definition of marriage is now negotiable in certain circles and some people believe their gender can be whatever they want to identify it as. While these topics have become hot button issues in denominations and politics, the degradation of the role of husband has been much more subtle.

I appreciate the strong, quiet way Wally loves mercy, seeks justice and walks humbly with his God. He pushes back against the stereotypes in how he fulfills his manly role as a husband. Wally may always be in the minority in his generation, he may not realize how rare his faith walk truly is, and he may never realize the God-given value he invests in others by what he models.

Jokingly, I have said our daughters need to marry men that cook and iron like their daddy. But, all joking aside, Wally has set the bar incredibly high. We do pray that if it be God's will for the girls to marry, that they would marry men who understand and hold to the Biblical definition or who a husband is and what a husband does.

Wally doesn't see what the big deal is all about. He assumes that he is just doing what all "Christian" husbands do. Just like his birthday, he doesn't want to be fussed over or made much of. It isn't mock humility. It is simply who Wally is.

I get it. He is a big deal. I am thankful for his birthday today and I appreciate the opportunity to celebrate who he is and the man God is making him to be. I am blessed to be on this journey with this remarkable man. I am beyond blessed to call James Wallace Vinson, my husband.

HBD Wally. I love you so.

Blessing of Brain Battles

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

I have always appreciated the way Wally and I could just "be" together. There doesn't have to be constant conversation or even distracting background noise. We are just comfortable with each other in the silence.

When we were first a couple, I would ask him what he was thinking about. When he would respond with, "nothing," I would find it impossible to believe. After all, in the quiet my mind had raced and rambled over at least a dozen topics and potential scenarios. It wasn't long into our relationship, when I came to accept the truth: he really can think about "nothing."

Another one of the many things that differentiates us in our marriage, is the amazing way Wally can compartmentalize his thoughts. When he's at work, he's at work. When he returns home, he can shut off work and be at home. When he's ready to relax, he does and he can think about "nothing," turning off his thoughts and not thinking. He can not stress about anything else.

On the other hand, there is me. When I am at home, I will think about what I need to do at work. When I am at work, I will think about what I need to do at home. When there could be a small window to relax, I can't because my mind is too busy thinking of all the other things that need to be done. OR - when I try to relax there is an all-too-familiar feeling of guilt, because of my inability to turn off my brain.

The internal dialogue in my mind is exhausting all by itself, but when emotions are mixed into the batter, the finished product is either burnt beyond recognition or left a soggy, raw, goopy mess.

This tendency is something I know I have passed on to my second born daughter.

I love how God gave her such passion. However, the ways her passions fluctuate are exhausting and overwhelming for her father and me. We often pine over how she must feel. For Piper, it is either the BEST day ever OR the WORST day ever - but - she can instantaneously go from one to the other and, without warning, back again. To call her "dramatic" would be an understatement. High maintenance? At times, most definitely, but never for very long. Her emotions make her complex, but because of their high intensity, we never have to wonder how she is feeling. We can simply watch how she enters the room, dragging and moaning or skipping and singing.

If I am honest, I am jealous of Wally's male mental abilities.
If I am honest, I know my emotions, while not as clearly visible as Piper's, have the same ability to rule and reign every aspect of my life.
If I am honest, I cannot deny that my jealousy and my inability to master my emotions are sinful.

Jealousy undoubtedly goes back to the 10th commandment where we are clearly told not to envy. Jealousy says that I am not satisfied with what God has given me. Jealousy proves that I feel that I deserve more.

Emotions, in and of themselves, are not bad, wrong or sinful per se, but left unchecked they can produce all kinds of havoc. My five year old had every right to be angry with my 15 year old. I couldn't fault her for that - the problem she had was that her anger ruled over her as she began to physically hit her sister in that anger. She sinned against her big sister by whaling on her. She sinned against God by giving into her anger and allowing that to be her motivation.

Like David writes in Psalm 51 - my sin is first and foremost against God. Yes, I should apologize for holding a grudge against Wally, but things can't be made right until I ask my Heavenly Father for forgiveness too.

The internal dialogue in my mind is most definitely, most of the time, a chaotic battlefield.

Thoughts that won't end. Emotions that fuel more thoughts. Satan knowing and attacking my most vulnerable insecurities. Desires to please God, but more emotions that scream of my incapabilities. Then there are hormones that demand attention. While I have never been in an actual, physical war - God's Word tells me that I am most definitely in a spiritual one. The frontline is in my brain.

However, His Word also tells me that He has won the war. With Jesus' resurrection, the final outcome has been irrevocably settled. The Good Guy won. By the faith through grace that He has given me, I have the promise of ultimate victory as well. There will be an end to the chaos in my head because He rules my heart.

The presence of His Spirit within me, is my not-so-secret weapon. I do not fight on my own strength or by my own capabilities. When I seek Him first, He illuminates Satan's lies for what they are, He throws me lifelines of truth to cling to from His Word, and He overwhelms me with the peace I so desperately need in the midst of the fight.

I am SO thankful, God didn't save me and just shrug his shoulders, say "Good luck, see you in heaven!" and walk away. Instead, He actively, intimately uses every aspect of the internal struggle within me to teach me and make me more like Jesus.

While I do envy Wally's ability to turn-it-all-off, I can and should thank God that the endless strain of stressful thoughts force me to depend upon Him. The mess of emotions compel me to dump my crazy on Him. Combined, they grow my faith, showing me that He can handle it. They truly teach me that His load is easy and His burden is light. They do all this and more.

So instead of wishing I was more like my man, I should thank God that I am not. I should appreciate this internal struggle for the many ways it grows my faith and my dependance on Him. I know I could not have learned these truths any other way.

Thank You God for internal struggle that wars within me.
Thank You God for the way it compels me to turn to You.
Thank You God for the assurance that battle will indeed end.
Thank You God for the ultimate victory to be had.