Slow

I looked at my phone tonight. The number 29 caught my eye. It's hard to believe that it's already the end of October. In exactly one month, I will be 38. And I don't think it's just me - this feeling that the years seem to pass in a hurry {each one more fleeting than the one prior}.

It's hard to keep perspective sometimes. Let's be honest, it's much easier to focus on the negative, the lacking, the broken. Wounds are difficult to choke down.

Tonight, I took things as they are. I slowed down enough to laugh and enjoy those that God gave me to love. And I decided that there isn't anything else to do in the hard times but to love. Love, after all, is the only thing that remains.

So, I made chicken biscuits for dinner and while they cooked, I peeled pears for a tart. And the boy played with his kitten. And I laughed watching the two of them. Thankful.

Then I took out one of my grandmother's old baking sheets. It is warped and it has its own special patina from the years of service. I can't help but smile as I place pastry within its walls.

And I feel peace. I am hemed in. I am thankful for it all. This time. My dirty kitchen. Everyone home this autumn evening. I can't help but feel like this is the sacred. Here in this place with all of the broken people. Here is Jesus. And this is why He came, anyways...not for the well.

I pulled the tart from the oven. It is beautiful. Perfect in its imperfection. And it's my first attempt, after all.

And I will keep attempting: Attempting to be thankful for everything. Attempting to love well. Attempting to make the time slow. And in the slowing, I pray that these boys of mine, big and small,  don't miss it. I pray that they feel Jesus near, too, and know that it is all grace.

Hidden

Not only are things never perfect, they are also rarely what they seem. Jaden wanted to adopt an older kitten for his birthday. He was drawn to a picture on the shelter website. Besides being a little scrawny {she was a stray}, she looked perfectly fine. The weekend passed. They wanted to spay her before we took her home. We got a call yesterday to come get her. They didn't spay her because she was sick with a common infection that cats usually contract. They gave me medication.

I took a beaming boy and his sneezing kitten home. I wasn't too concerned at first, except she wouldn't eat. So, I ran the shower on hot and sat with my glasses fogged up. I put cat food in the blender and force fed her. Twice. I have fresh scratches and I smell of rotten fish. And I prayed. I prayed fervently for Primrose Everdeen Beasley, because she needs to be okay. We need to be okay.

I would gladly take all of the blame. But that doesn't change anything, does it? All I want to do is wrap myself up in His grace and remain there. And I remind myself that it will be okay. Eventually. But maybe not here. Not completely.

There is a purpose for this...

He has a plan to use this...

Tonight I hide myself away where I am safe with Him. And there, among the unknown, I can still lift my hands and my tired heart, bowing everything within me low before my God.

Safe.

Door of Hope

Things aren't perfect. In fact, they seem far from it. And I confess that it leaves me weary sometimes. Hope diminishes quickly some days and it's all I can do to try to cling to Jesus. Some days my heart mutters, "I believe, Lord, please help my unbelief." Other days, I am more like Job. I question indignant, "Why me? What did I do to deserve all of this?" {And I know down deep what I really deserve without grace}

There it was in the Old Testament reading this morning -one of my favorites: "The Lord will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace and remain at rest." And my legs felt too wobbly to carry me to the altar, but Jesus was with me in that pew being my peace. I leaned into His rest.

I admit, I have cried hot, desperate tears for not wanting to go further down this path, for this seems too painful {and I have been through enough in my life, I plead}. But, I look back at everything else and I remember it all. I remember the ugly that He used to shape me. I remember the trials that proved Him over and over. Even my own choices done in rebellion have been redeemed. My heart remembers that He can be trusted. When it is all said and done, He is the only One that can be trusted completely {even when I don't understand and can't see}. And, so, I am giving this Valley of Trouble to Jesus. He is the only One who can turn it into a Door of Hope.

So, I cling to Him. I cling to that hope.

{Prayers appreciated, kind friends, for this season.}

Bananas

Last week, I hurried into the local convenience store with my youngest son. It was hot and I wanted to just grab a few things since I hadn't had time to go to the store. As I went to swing open the door, a man politely asked for change. He was dirty and wore raggedy clothes, cigarette clutched in his shaking hand. I impatiently shook my head and continued on. 

Two minutes later, I was at the checkout. In front of me was a large basket of bananas. I felt that holy nudge. No, I didn't have cash, but I could buy some bananas. And so I did. I took two of the larger ones {I had noticed another man on the opposite side}. 

I walked out of the store, son still in tow, right up to the man who had asked for money. "Would you like a banana?" I asked as I held out the fruit in my hand towards him. He looked at it, then smiled. He took it from me like it was so much more than a single banana. "Thank you, baby doll!" he exclaimed in his raspy voice and he meant it. 

I took the other banana and walked ten steps to the other side of the door. Now there were two stooped low. I wished I had another banana, but I held it out anyway and asked if they would like to share. Again, they looked pleased. And here is the part that left me a bit undone: the gentleman I handed it to looked me in the eye and said, "God bless you." God bless me? 

I don't feel like I should be blessed for all the times in which I looked away and ignored far outweigh the times I gave anything {even a second thought}. And it isn't about the act, it is about demonstrating love. The love that was so freely given to us must be freely given. Because we were ALL ransomed, purchased by love. 

It is in the walking and stumbling that we learn the hard lessons. After we had closed the doors to the car, my son looked at me and said that giving the men bananas was kind. And in that teachable moment I said that we should always give, even if it's just taking a moment to let someone know that they matter. 

Because down deep, in this world full of so much apathy, we all want to {need to} know that we matter. I know I do. 

The Waiting

And he shall be like a tree firmly planted [and tended] by the streams of water, ready to bring forth its fruit in its season; its leaf also shall not fade or wither; and everything he does shall prosper [and come to maturity]. Psalm 1:3

It's mid-afternoon, but from the darkness of the living room you would think it was much later. The house is quiet except for the whirring of fans and the drone of the washing machine. All of my boys {big and not so big} are taking a nap. 

I had opened the blinds to let in some more light. As I sat in solitude, I watched the trees sway and the sky darken. The few patches of blue sky were quickly replaced with gray. 

From inside the confines of my house, it looked like a glorious autumn storm. In my mind, I started to daydream about crisp air, scarves, and hot tea. Obviously, that wasn't the case. To snap myself back into reality, I walked outside. The air hung heavy with stifling heat and moisture. I immediately started sweating. Feeling somewhat defeated, I came back inside. And isn't that almost the same way in which we wish away our days? 

I started blogging just over three years ago. Much of that time I would characterize as a difficult season. From my husband's unemployment to serious issues at church, I honestly felt trapped in a harsh winter. I wanted nothing more than to be transported to a hope-filled spring. But I wasn't. Not right away for I had things to learn in the winter places. You see, each season carries with it lessons God would have for us to learn. Each season, no matter how difficult, will have joy {if we so choose to embrace it}. 

Looking back through some of my previous posts - besides thinking, "I-can't-believe-I-wrote-that!" - I see the ways in which I struggled through during low, long days in the valley. But, I also see the ways in which God showed himself mighty in my life as I trusted Jehovah Jireh and my faith was bolstered. 

So, even though I am longing for autumn, I will not wish away the hot days of summer {or whatever season I am in} because no doubt, I have something to learn. And as long as I have breath, I will continue to work out this gift of salvation. 

Life Support

From life's first cry to final breath Jesus commands my destiny... Yet again, the hymns comfort me tonight.

We imagine our final breath will be when we are grey, skin-wrinkled and etched with laugh lines from a full life. No doubt the good Lord will take us in our sleep. For some, yes, but definitely not for the majority.

Within the past week, I have heard about the passing of two people I knew. One was an older lady from my previous church {I watched her granddaughter often in Sunday school}. Helen's cancer came back. The other was a man with whom I attended high school. He was my age. I hadn't seen him in over twenty years, but I remember him well. We were both in ROTC. We both had twin brothers. He was a CHP officer who was shot in the line of duty. He was placed on life support, but his injuries were fatal.

And I can't help to think: Aren't we all really on life support? Each breath a gift. Each heartbeat so fleeting and the next isn't guaranteed. The true life support that we have here in this place is from the Holy Spirit. This place is hard to walk through. This place is full of loss. This place isn't home. Without the true supporter of our lives {our souls}, we would be lost, too.

But, I admit. It's easy to become distracted. It's easy to focus on things that are so superficial. It is easy to forget that there are more important things in which to invest ourselves.

This morning, I was whining about my allergies and lamenting the fact that I couldn't wear makeup to work. Sad, but true! All the while people are truly hurting. All the while people need us to be present with them. We are called to help support life -to care for the orphan and the widow - as Christ's ambassadors in this place, this place that isn't home.

{And truly following is hard, and I fail All. The. Time. But, there is something hallowed in the trying. There is something truly beautiful about the broken being the balm.}

If You Really Knew Me...

These types of posts have been all over the blogosphere, so on this low key Labor Day, I thought I would come up with my own list of sorts.

So, if you really knew me {and other random facts}, you would know: 

I am not very good at hiding my emotions {no poker face here}. Regardless of what I am feeling, my facial expressions betray me 99% of the time. 

God's grace never ceases to amaze me. 

I have O- blood and try to donate often. 

My grandparents raised me. Therefore, I have retained some old-fashioned sensibilities. 

I am a true ambivert. 

I am not a neat freak. 

Although I have become much better, in general I have a hard time saying no because at my core I like to help others {and some people will take advantage of this}.

Autumn is my favorite season. I adore everything about it from the colors and cooler weather to the scents {pumpkin spice and apple cinnamon} and Thanksgiving. 

I do not relish confrontation, but I will ultimately speak up if I feel it is necessary. 

I long for a true sense of community, but oftentimes find myself on the periphery trying to break in {after a while, it's hard to keep trying...}

Within the last few years, I have grown to love and appreciate hymns. 

Denominational elitism makes me shudder with a combination of sadness and anger. 

I started my family at age 18. 

I am not a gamer. I never have been and never will be. Growing up with a twin brother (and living with the mister and two sons), it's not for lack of trying. I never cleared levels of Pac-Man. I never reached the flag in Mario Bros. I don't understand RPGs. It's just not who I am. And that's okay. 

I will reread my favorite books again and again. 

I try to never underestimate the power of redemption and reconciliation. 

I am sensitive and find it hard not to take things personally {I will be the first person to place the blame on myself}.

Although I appreciate spontaneity, true change can be hard for me. 

I believe that every day is a gift. 

Well, that is enough randomness for now...

Blessings to each of you. xo.