Pregnant

Feeling stagnate is complicated; when it is stripped bare, complacency lingers. One may wonder how someone can become stagnant while experiencing change. Yet, that is exactly where I have found myself the last few weeks. I could not anticipate how this week of waiting would become so hard.

Change, even welcome change, is stressful. There are new possibilities, but also many unknowns. Through this transition from one place to another, from one season to another, I have sought God and received His gracious mercy and peace. I know that His timing has been perfect, so why the seemingly unnecessary, complicated feelings?

Even when we have our answers, it is in the waiting where we need to remember and embody the fruit of the spirit that is patience. I couldn't agree more with Tom Petty: You take it on faith, you take it to the heart. The waiting is the hardest part.

One of my friends, Joy, is trying to wait patiently for the arrival of a son. I have the honor of supporting her during her labor, so I, too, wait. I have my phone with me at all times. I sleep with it next to my head, ready for a possible 2am call. I wait. Anxiously. Expectantly.

As I was reflecting this morning, God spoke to my heart. There is something to this waiting that prepares us. There is something to the in between times that causes us to cling a little closer to our heavenly father like a child clings to a parent for reassurance.

And it then becomes so clear that the cure for stagnation is anticipation. I think about the alternate definition of pregnant: to have rich implications; to have possibilities. As long as we have breath, our lives are full of pregnant possibilities. And then comes the teaching (I am so glad that God doesn't tire of teaching me and showing me His goodness over and over): God is continually trying to birth new things in me, but let's face it, labor is hard. How would it look differently in my life if I treated the pregnant possibilities He graciously gives me with the same excited anticipation?

And I don't have the answer this evening, but my heart feels undeniably pregnant with anticipation for what will come.

Hemmed in...

"You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me."~ Psalm 139:5

I was born in this city. I grew up here and still call this place home. In fact, I live within about two blocks from both of my main childhood homes. When June was ushered in, I began taking evening walks through the various streets that surrounded me; the streets of my childhood.

The streets are filled with my past: houses; the lantana and hibiscus; the driveway of my elementary bus stop; my junior high; circuitous paths explored with friends; bike rides (and falls); echoing trains; seasons strung into years; girl into woman.

 Much remains unchanged. I breathe in dusk air, close my eyes and yearn deep to be in a time that came even before. A time with milkmen, gardens and clotheslines. He was there. He has gone before all things. He has hemmed it all in - all in this spinning planet.

And I have been here before, too, with He who is I AM. There is such comfort in the remembering. There is comfort for those who are hemmed in.

And just as many things have remained unchanged, there are just as many things that are constantly changing. There are new buildings among the old. The population has nearly doubled since my birth. There is a weak economy here and with it weak people, neglected elderly, homeless families, abused children. Brokenness.

That in which should be strengthened has been allowed to lie fallow, barren. The redemption of Christ, which doesn't promise to remove hardships, but to hem in, to go before and behind, is let lie fallow. And then I see it, a house I remember from my youth, allowed to lie fallow, neglected.

I peer long at the boards and overgrowth. A place of old in need of pruning, restoration. And the God that has gone before truth-whispers. And isn't this why you needed a Savior?

And there is hope, restoration, and pruning for the hemmed in.

As I walk the streets of my childhood, I see Him there, for He is with me always. And I exhale and feel His hand upon me.

A Beginning: My First Forty

It is hard having a friend who lives so very far away. It is even harder when that friend is in a deep valley. A few months ago, I received a package in the mail from my sweet friend Amy, who is going through her own valley. It was a book that she had said had helped her immensely: One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

I looked at the cover and was intrigued, but I was having a hard time just getting through each day. So, it sat for some time, collecting dust, just as I was allowing my spirit to become dust-covered as well.

Days went on, and I felt like I couldn't breathe for the sheer weight of it all. I looked at the cover of the book one evening, and it read, "A dare to live fully right where you are". Something about that statement caught me off guard. Maybe because I had been going throught the motions and felt as if I truly hadn't been living. Not fully. So, I began reading, and although I am not finished yet, this is what was birthed:

From my journal:

My journey to one thousand gifts begins today. I am taking the challenge. I sense deep in my spirit that I need this more than I can fully understand. All I know is that this season - this harsh winter - has hardened my heart and soul. Somewhere I have sacrificed joy. I want to live out the life that God has for me. And I know that this isn't it, this looking for curses and being comsumed with fear and anxiety. So, I look to my Jesus and breathe and count...

1. A dare
2. Hymns that echo ancient truths
3. Light rain, cool  breeze and sun through clouds
4. New mercies each morning
5. More rain to wash away the impurities
6. Smiles from kind faces
7. Art with my studemts
8. Yummy lunch brought by co-workers
9. Turning our cable off (more time)
10. Cuddly babies
11. fulfilling a need - being a servant
12. Love given by a picked flower on his way home
13. Husband taking out trash
14. Time with Jaden - he's growing up so fast
15. The full moon resting upon the dark clouds - striking!
16. A pillow to rest my weary head
17. Birds singing their innnate praise
18. Blue skies and clean air
19. The privilege of working for a godly man of integrity
20. Breath prayers that refocus
21. Pandora at work
22. A card saying that I am amazing <3
23. Laughing with friends
24. Bible study
25. Fridays
26. Weekend plans with friends and fro yo
27. Hot coffee to combat sluggush mornings
28. Being tested - knowing God has a purpose for it all
29. All the ways in which people are being the hands and feet of Jesus to my family
30. A Christian office mate
31. Rejoicing with those who rejoice
32. Baby Mason, Joy's prayed-for gift, who is 28 weeks in utero and healthy- can't wait to meet him!
33. Grace and second chances
34. Being accepted and loved for me
35. Documentaries
36. A glimpse of seeing God at work, which  bolsters my hope
37. Glenn's paycheck that will allow me to buy groceries today
38. The verse of the day that reinforces this: Always be joyful. Never stop praying.
39. God sustaining Erinn, so now she can rest
40. Contentment in the chaos

So, I keep my eyes and heart open and count on...

When

When the world doesn't make sense. When it feels like a flood has swept through, taking the sacred low. When little boys cry over dead rats, lost dogs and a deep disdain for what is. And when a mama swallows her own tears, chokes them back for another time unseen, and hushes sad boy with words of comfort she only half-heartedly believes herself.

When uncertainty reigns. When the valley is relentless and there are no mountaintops in sight. When everything is heavy and hope diminished. When there are no words. When it feels like this weary soul can't breathe for it's all heavy. When words seems meaningless. When sleep won't come. When it feels like there is nothing because family reminds of the lacking. When finding joy is challenging like remembering parts of a dream almost forgotten.

When all of it is too much, she cries out to be rescued from the only One who could ever save her. When she feels like ashes are being heaped upon her, she waits for the beauty. When she feels like she has nothing, she clings to promises unbroken.

Being used...

So, I am in a funk. And in this state, I have been pondering things as I often do. Why is it so easy for me to feel completely defeated? I mean, seriously? Is it the longevity of this season; have I truly just given up? No, not really, but you might not know that by my behavior.

Am I tired? Sure, I am tired. I would even say that I am discouraged. It's hard to admit that I am having a hard time being thankful, but there you have it. I will even go further to say that in my flesh I am even jealous of others: their Christian spouses, financial security, homes, cars, careers, talents, vacations, Disneyland passes, you name it...(anything that makes me feel less than; worthless).

And I am virtually useless in this state save for grace. I realize that I am like Moses focusing on my "But I couldn't possibly" responses, when God is speaking to my spirit saying, "Yes, you will, because I have purposed you for this." And I am not exactly sure what "this" is, but I know exactly what it is not.

So, I am reminded that I am already victorious; it is in my weakness that His power is perfected, and I cry out for maranatha!

It doesn't matter how broken I am (and I am pretty broken). Jesus entered the brokenness to make whole (eventually). And I marvel at the thought of what could be if I truly focused on my response and trusted God with the details and outcome. Too often I let voices sabotage me by reminding me of all the ways in which I am less than. I accept defeat and failure as inevitable before I even attempt anything. My inaction isn't building up the kingdom, nor is it allowing God to be glorified in my life (ouch!).

So, I pray that my heart will continue to change. In this season, which has been such a season of loss for me, I desire to be used. I want to glorify God with everything. I want to know what it means to honestly say that the joy of the Lord is my strength. I want to be bold in my faith and open to the new things that God is calling me to, which are out of my comfort zone (that's for sure). And in all of this, we know that we are more than conquerors (standing on the truth in Romans 8 - such a powerful chapter!).

Amen and amen.

Follow...

It seems in the depths it is hardest for me to write anything, to even speak of something so deep within for fear that if I do, I will open myself up and spill out till empty. But, I can't contain it, not even my best efforts have afforded me reprieve. Liquid hurt flows out cloaked in a sadness that has come before. So many questions swirl around my head and the only plausible answers to the unknowns is 'Trust".

So, I listen. I pray that I would not sin in my anger. I pray to love with Jesus' love, who would choose the Cross again for any one of us. I stumble, I entertain misgivings, and I surely feel as if I am about to choke. I can't speak it and it rises in my throat, and I ask God to at least let me breathe. I don't want to suffocate.

And I hear Him. For months He has been speaking to me through a song. I hear the lyrics, followed by a check of the Spirit. So, this morning, I hear it again, and I pause.

Where you go, I'll go
Where you stay, I'll stay
When you move, I'll move
I will follow...

And with a clarity that is sharper than just my wild imagination, I hear, "Go, my daughter" and it brings peace. You see, I have known I was going for some time, but with this knowledge came a foreboding sense of abandonment accompanied by a deep sense of loss.

He, in all of His mercy, has comforted me and given me the peace that passes understanding. I am comforted this morning. I can want nothing more for my life than to follow where the Lord leads. I'm about to shake the dust off and let go of it all, knowing I am not abandoned, knowing God has me (and all of us) in His hands. It's time for this girl to embrace adventure, because I sense God has a BIG adventure planned for me. And, I say, 'Bring it!'.

Thank you, dear friends, who walk with me and pray for me. xo.

Tomorrow

What of this day, in light of the thousands before?
I lean forward into tomorrow while all that is within me cries out for change, cries out to be more wholly His.
Each day I choke out the flesh that would suffocate me, cutting it out if need be, so I can take up the cross that beckons me follow.

And I follow into the unknown that is only known to Him. There faith is found intertwined with longing. A longing to follow the echoes that lead me toward His righteousness.

So, I lean not only into tomorrow, but into the hope that permeates the underlying melancholy.
And tonight, in the space between tomorrow and yesterday, I breathe deep until I remember I am alive and I bask in a love so complete that it undoes me.