Your Kiss Will Come

We all have soul aches. Some are deeper than others,


and they happen for different reasons. Lately, my soul has been aching.  It's been a silent ache, because I haven't shared with anyone what's really been going on in the deep. However, there is ONE who ALWAYS knows... 

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Ministry can be hard on a family. It's, honestly, been brutal on ours. One of the difficulties in ministry is that you never really have a place to put roots down. Our family has made six major moves in the past twenty years, staying usually two to five years each place. We may be naive, because... 

WE KNOW ROOTS ARE NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE IN MINISTRY

...but somehow, each position we have ever been called to we have fully committed our hearts.  

HEART ROOTS.

We assumed each position would be our last. Naive or not, I'm not really sure there is any other way to truly minister to the people in your care if you don't have some sense of permanence or commitment to them. A pastor and his family *NEEDS* to care this deeply about the people entrusted to them. A pastor *SHOULD* care this deeply about the church he's called to lead. So each place we served, we fully jumped in. After the emotional roller-coaster of hurts and letting go of the first four moves, the fifth church we served we were bound and determined not to jump so fully in when we arrived. Despite our efforts to keep our hearts from getting entangled, it didn't work. There was no way for us to keep our hearts out of what we were doing.  

WHEN YOU "DO LIFE" TOGETHER WITH AN INTIMATE GROUP OF PEOPLE, YOU GET ATTACHED.

PLAIN AND SIMPLE.

That group of people becomes your family, and for more than a decade, they were. It was the longest we have ever lived anywhere in the almost twenty-two years of our married lives. To our children, Michigan was the only home they had ever known. We, without a doubt, had...  

HEART ROOTS.

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Fifteen months ago GOD CALLED US on. He called us away to rest, but also to a different future. Leaving Michigan was one of the biggest faith steps we have taken. Ever. To leave people we deeply loved, and who deeply loved us was painful. Our HEART ROOTS ripped and tore and bled. To shift from in-the-flesh-let's-hang-out-for-coffee-let-me-give-you-a-great-big-hug relationships to I'll-call-you-text-you-facebook-you-pray-for-you-from-a-distance-no-hugs-ever relationships has filled me with sorrow for more than a year. My heart aches. I miss, and miss deeply. I miss those who have become our family. I miss people. I miss purpose. I miss community. Some days I get lost in the ache.

HOW DO YOU TRUST IN THE ACHE?

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A few months ago, WAVES OF HOPE washed over us. We felt God stir our hearts, and we heard Him clearly call. He told us that it was time to be about HIS business, again. He asked us to form a tiny community with the only families we know here in Colorado. Three little families. We were thrilled, excited, overjoyed...  

WE WERE DREAMING GOD'S DREAMS FOR US.

I wasn't sure we would ever have that opportunity again. We have been so battered by life over the past twenty years, the ability to dream was somewhat miraculous- it was a marked touch from Him. We were beginning to believe, hope, and feel joyfully excited about the possibilities. 

I FELT AS IF GOD HEARD MY HEART'S CRY.

I felt like we would again be living out a deeper purpose. We would again have a community that we could love and that would love us. We could grow together and not be so alone on the journey. We talked about ideas and we made loose plans for the coming months ahead. Then we hit a huge, unexpected road block. It felt as if...  

THE HOPE-BALLOON HAD BURST

...and thousands of its tiny little pieces scattered. How do you pick up the pieces when it took so much to hope in the first place? Some days I get lost in the ache of broken pieces.

HOW DO YOU TRUST IN THE ACHE?

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How can you be lonely when you live in a house with eight other people? How can you be lonely when you are loved deeply and dearly by your beloved? How can you be lonely when the walls of your home are filled with the laughter and play of children?  

HOW CAN YOU BE LONELY WHEN YOU HAVE GOD?

Well, let me tell you that you can. I have been lonely. I am human. I miss being able to call my friends and meet them at the local coffee shop or the wings joint. I miss being able to have conversations in person about everything and nothing.  

I MISS HUGS. 

I MISS FACES. 

I MISS VOICES. 

I MISS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS. 

I MISS INDIVIDUALS. 

I MISS PEOPLE. 

I MISS COMMUNITY.

I miss, and I ache.  (sigh)

HOW DO YOU TRUST IN THE ACHE?

***********

YOU PRAY IN THE ACHE...

YOU WAIT IN THE ACHE...

YOU MUSTER UP ANY SHRED OF FAITH IN THE ACHE...

YOU CRY IN THE ACHE...

YOU BE HONEST IN THE ACHE...

AND ABOVE ALL ELSE, YOU REMEMBER AND KNOW THAT GOD IS GOD, AND NO MATTER WHAT YOU... 

TRUST HIM...TRUST HIM...TRUST HIM 

IN THE ACHE...

THE ONE WHO ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT IS IN THE DEPTHS OF YOUR SOUL HOLDS YOU IN HIS HANDS AND IN HIS CARE...

HIS KISS WILL COME...

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One of my God-kisses came a week ago. Dear friends of ours from Indiana called and wondered if they could come visit us this weekend. Because we are 1,200 miles from almost everyone that we know, this was as spur-of-the-moment-wonderful as it gets! The trip would be a birthday gift for the wife. She asked for "The Sargents" for her birthday. Wow. Little did she know that...  

MY SWEET JESUS HEARD MY HEART'S CRY.

He knew the loneliness in my soul, and how much I missed. Their trip here is actually going to be a gift from...

HIM TO ME!

Only God knew what was really going on in the deep with me. Only God knows what is going on in the deep with you. I know I don't have all the "kisses" I would like or need from Him, but this one gives me...  

HOPE THAT HE HEARS ME... 

AND HOPE THAT HE CARES...

It gives me a little boost to keep trusting even in the most difficult of achy days. I want to encourage you to KEEP TRUSTING, too. Perhaps a God-kiss has already come your way? Continue holding on, dear heart. Perhaps a God-kiss has come but it's hiding in an unexpected place? Perhaps you need to keep hanging on?

HOLD FAST.

DON'T GIVE UP. 


HE KNOWS YOUR HEART. 

HE FEELS YOUR ACHE.

HE LOVES YOU AND WANTS YOU TO KNOW THAT... 

YOUR KISS WILL COME.

IT'S COMING, DEAR ONE, IT'S COMING.

 

Autumn: Beautiful, Bare, and Holy

I love autumn. I love to watch our mountains transform from a blanket of green into winding rivers of aspen gold.

The crackle of wood on a cozy fire chases away the evening chill, and mouths water while patiently waiting for perfectly toasted marshmallows  to squish between chocolate and graham crackers. Smells waft through the house with the fragrance of home baked treats...some to keep and some to share. The crickets' song lulls us to peace and beckons us to rest with their final serenade of the season.


CHILDREN...

Children's faces light up with delight when the perfect pumpkin is found in the farmer's patch.

Children know how to STOP AND ENJOY. They delight in the simplicity of things...raking leaves, jumping in piles, and crunching leaves between their toes on surprisingly warm days. Children seem to inherently know the value of things. They help us to realize there is beauty in what others may call a nuisance or even a mess.   

AUTUMN DELIGHTS ARE BUT A BREATH IN THE STRETCH OF THE SEASONS...

The calico handiwork of our Maker seems to disappear as quickly as it emerges. I stand in awe of the fire red maple tree in our front yard. Its beauty is unmatched against the backdrop of  Colorado blue sky.   

It is here...under this magnificent young tree where my children climb and play that I begin to wonder...

WHEN WILL THE LEAVES DIE AND FALL FROM THIS BEAUTY TREE? 

It won't be long. I know it won't be long... *sigh*

Within two short days of scarlet beauty, a storm comes to shake the branches and rattle the leaves free. Rain pounds heavy and most leaves fall under the burden. A few desperately try to hang on and cling to the life of the tree. Wind whips fierce howling through the branches.

IT'S TIME TO LET GO...

YOU HAVE TO LET GO...

This is the way it has to be. This is what has always been planned.  

THIS IS BEST.

The tree must be stripped bare.

Sometimes...

WE MUST BE STRIPPED BARE, TOO.

We have to let go, and let the Wind and Rain shake parts of us free.

WE HAVE TO LET OURSELVES BE TREE NAKED BEFORE OUR MAKER.

We have to let our leaves die and fall away. Getting this honest can be painful, and lonely. We may feel vulnerable and raw and...

UGLY...

This is the way it has to be. This is what has always been planned.

THIS IS BEST.

We have to be soul bare and ready.

BECAUSE...

Soft and silent He will come.

I PROMISE.

HE WILL COME...

 

TO MAKE US BEAUTIFUL...

Wrapped in the blanket of Him, I am in true awe. It leaves me breathless, because somehow it all feels just a little bit...

HOLY...

Return

I've been reading through the Bible this past year, and this December will mark the first time in my life that I will have read every single word (FINALLY!). Through the years, I'm sure I've read most of it several times over, but I wanted to be certain that I've soaked in every last drop of God's story possible. I've discovered many stories of which I wasn't aware, I've had things clarified, corrected, and put into context, I've "met" a few people I didn't know, and grew closer to some I did.

In the midst of my daily reading, I've found it a bit of struggle to read through overly familiar passages. I deeply desire to read with FRESH EYES and an OPEN HEART, I long for God to BREATHE SOMETHING NEW FROM COMMON STORIES INTO ME. Despite best efforts, sometimes the words in known stories still run together, and my thoughts wander beyond.

In today's reading I came across one such story:

"If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won't he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it?"

Yeah... yeah... you know the story. We've all heard it a thousand times.

"And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders. When he arrives, he will call together his friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.'" 

I'm sure we all can agree. What a nice story, but nothing new...blah blah...

"In the same way there is more joy in heaven over one lost...who...returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven't strayed away."  (Luke 15:4-7 NLT)

That's it. Mission accomplished. I've read the story...yet again. I can check my little box. Now on to the next set of verses. Right?

Wait.

What?

There's something I didn't see before. One little word. One little word that demands I read the entire set of verses again. One little word pierced through my familiar rut like a beacon piercing darkness.

One little word...

RETURNS...

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Have you ever been lost? You can be and feel lost for so many reasons. Perhaps you've been in a spiritual desert. Maybe you are even in one now? Have you ever struggled with doubt, depression, grief, disappointment? Have you awakened in the midst of the heavy only to find you've wandered beyond home? Perhaps you've grown complacent, and comfort has robbed you of the clarity to see you are fully displaced. Maybe little sins have gotten you off-course. Maybe not-so-little sins have BUILT A WALL, SEEMINGLY IMPOSSIBLE TO BREAK THROUGH, BETWEEN LOST AND FOUND.

However you've ended up lost... whether it was by your own fault, another person's hurtful actions towards you, or just simply the circumstance of your situation, being lost is just that... LOST.

We all have been here. You may have to search and sift and dig deep within to see it, but at one point or another, ALL OF US HAVE BEEN LOST.

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I have been lost several times in my life for many different reasons. However, one of the deepest disappointments in my life is that I ALLOWED MYSELF TO BECOME HOPELESSLY LOST AFTER HAVING BEEN TRULY FOUND.

Here in the dark cloak of midnight, truth pierces like a beacon.

That wondrous word...  

RETURNS...

You cannot return if you never belonged.

When you return, you go back to the place from which you came.

HOME...

In the story of the lost sheep, the shepherd left the ninety-nine sheep to search for the one that was lost. It dawned on me new that the one sheep-lost already BELONGED to the shepherd. The one sheep-lost was FOUND and carried HOME.

Do you see it? Do you see the truth-light shining through the darkness? 

YOU CAN'T GO HOME IF YOU NEVER HAD A HOME TO BEGIN WITH. 

YOU CAN'T RETURN IF YOU DIDN'T HAVE A PLACE TO RETURN TO. 

***********

Dearest fellow lost one... forgotten, bedraggled, devastated, misspent, misused, ruined, squandered, wiped out, and wrecked... it's never too late to go home. He will search for you until He finds you.

UNTIL... 

HE FINDS YOU...

Do not let shame, regret, remorse, self-punishment, pride, anger, hurt, or loss keep you from calling His name. Call His name. He is searching for you.

"JESUS, HELP." 

"FIND ME HERE."

...is enough.

IT'S ALWAYS ENOUGH.



Fellow lost heart...

HOME IS WAITING.

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHERE YOU'VE BEEN, OR WHY YOU'VE BEEN.

IT'S OKAY.

IT'S TIME.

IT'S TIME TO RETURN...

  

HOME...


I am so grateful that my DAD left the ninety-nine to search for me. I am thankful that it wasn't a loss for Him to seek and find and carry me home. It's hard to believe that He rejoices over me. I know He does, though. If I'm quiet and still enough, I can almost hear "heaven's joy" and the celebration of His song.

YES...

I THINK I CAN HEAR THE SONG...  

"Seek the Lord while you can find Him. Call on Him while He is near... Let them turn to the Lord that He may have mercy on them. Yes, turn to our God for He will forgive generously." (Isaiah 55:6-7 NLT) 

Will it Rain?

I'm sitting on the porch- computer on my lap.  I have much to do, yet my heart distracts me.  Thoughts of school weigh on me heavy.  I need to finalize homeschool orders, organize our school room, finish other things that I won't have time to complete once our school schedule is in swing.  We have visitors coming next week, and two weeks after that we are taking a much needed (educational) family vacation.  There is much to do.  There is much to prepare.  And here I am on our porch.  Sitting.  My wandering heart questioning...

WILL IT RAIN?

As the breeze tickles the leaves green I hear the melodic rustle of the wind moving from tree to tree.  I can almost follow its invisible path.  Thunder cracks and rolls in the far-off distance.  The reality hits that the leaves green will soon be fire red. They will  release and fall as another season passes making way for rest and then new growth.  It has been heavy on my heart that it's almost been a year.

A YEAR... 

A YEAR...

In this very moment I hear an engine straining under the weight of its load.  I look up and see a moving truck exiting our community with their life in tow.  Their journey is taking them BEYOND HERE.  Almost twelve months have passed since we entered this community.  Our journey has BROUGHT US HERE.  A lot has happened in this year... a lot has happened just yesterday.  I find myself here in this time and in this space- somewhat lost and somewhat found.  All I can muster to ask with these thoughts mingled and tangled together...

WILL IT RAIN?    

Thoughts sift and stir, and sift and stir over-and-over again.  Sometimes there is pain in the sifting, and rattling in the stirring.  School, kids, home, relationships, family, friends, church... *sigh* church?  hurts, failures, should-have-beens, could-have-beens...  I try to focus on the task in front of me but...

SOMETIMES GOD WANTS US TO LAY TASKS ASIDE AND PRESS INTO HIM... PRESS INTO THE QUESTIONS.

I press in, and I wonder...

WILL IT RAIN?

Out of nowhere lightning flashes and the bold clap of thunder startles me.  I have learned this past year that it rarely rains in Colorado.  Evidence of coming rain does not always mean it will.  The sun taunts the clouds and they argue.  Who will win?  I need to know.

WILL IT RAIN? 

Will it rain in my heart and refresh my soul?  I'm thirsty for more- more of JESUS- deeper still.   

I WANT MORE.

Will the secret longings within my depths be heard or answered.  Do I dare to dream again?  It feels  risky to even breathe it, let alone say it... I might be dreaming again... hoping again.  In a moment honest... unexpected...  here on this porch my answer comes...
  
RAIN.

For one solid, yet brief minute...

Straight as an arrow down to the ground, RAIN pounds into thirsty soil.

Straight as an arrow down to my soul, GOD pounds into me...

BELIEF......

 

For This I Write...

I recently read several blog posts from a fellow blogger.  As I read her beautiful words, an insecurity gripped me with a vice unexpected.  The tapestry formed with her word threads wove a tale that held me within a blanket covering which I didn't want to leave.   

I BECAME PAINFULLY AWARE THAT I DO NOT HAVE THE SAME GIFT AS SHE- THE GIFT OF BEAUTY WORDS.

It caused me to look deep within to search out and sink teeth into the "WHY" of my writing.  If I don't have the gift of weaving word pictures, then why am I doing this?

I KNOW THAT I AM HERE TO WEAVE "HEART" PICTURES, NOT "WORD" PICTURES.

It's true that you need words to tell the heart, but the heart stories I share won't always be created with the threads of beautiful words.  I'm okay with this. Matters of the heart are what I have been called to share in whatever way the words are woven together- beautiful or not.


FOR THIS I WRITE...


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I KNOW I BREAK EVERY SPOKEN AND UNSPOKEN BLOG RULE IN THE BOOK. 

You can blog too much or too little, you can post your blogs on the wrong day of the week or the wrong time of day, your blog posts shouldn't be too long or too short, and your blog should only focus on one topic or purpose.  By all means, you shouldn't be too transparent in your writing, and make sure you are developing relationships with other bloggers by commenting on their blogs and guest posting for them.  Your actual blog should look sharp and professional.  Be sure to ask compelling questions at the end of each piece to connect your readers.  When you post a new blog, you should promote it several times a day on Facebook, Twitter, and other social sites- even link your blog on other blogs or websites. Failure to do all or most of the above will result in poor traffic on your blog, low readership, and *GASP* maybe even the death of your blog.

My conclusion to all of this?

I DON'T CARE.

Please understand that for those of you who do blog, and do care deeply about the hidden and not-so-hidden rules of blogging, I don't fault you.  I understand. But my purpose for being here in this space to write and share my journey might be different than yours.

I AM HERE BECAUSE GOD HAS ASKED ME TO BE.  

IT'S THAT SIMPLE.  

I trust Him to bring those who may need a wash of truth, or a touch of grace to find this space without my own promotion of it.  My blog will not be "big" and it's likely my readership will be "small."  Again, I am okay with this.  I want my heart to be pure, and I want to be as agenda free in my writing as I possibly can be.  For me, eliminating even the hint of self promotion is the only way I know how to do this.  I trust God that whoever passes this way is supposed to.   

IF YOU ARE READING THESE WORDS, PERHAPS YOU WERE LED HERE, SOMEHOW?


FOR THIS I WRITE...


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SHADOWS...

Each time I sit down to write, I am haunted to a certain extent by my shadows from the past- some from the distant past, and some from the not-so-distant past.  I am painfully aware of people that probably feel I don't deserve a platform from which to share.  There are also people that have misunderstood me, tangled up truth to benefit themselves and their own purposes, and there are also those who have chosen to believe their own versions of  truth.  I know there are those who are upset because I share, and share transparently.  There are also those who judge me and those who feel like I judge others.

I OWN MY FAILURES, MISTAKES, AND BROKENNESS.

ALWAYS.

I HAVE NEVER PUT MYSELF ON ANY TYPE OF PEDESTAL.

EVER.

I know what and who I am.  I have no stones-of-judgment to throw, and in the past decade I have never thrown them.  I am an incredibly grateful girl who is beyond honored that I get to be here sharing and writing.

THIS PLATFORM IS NOT ONE THAT I HAVE TAKEN- IT HAS BEEN GIVEN TO ME.

I do not take lightly the weight and responsibility of the privilege it is to speak into peoples' lives.  It is an honor, and I prayerfully consider each and every word shared here.  As I solidify "why" I write, for me it is important to stare into the shadows once and for all.  I will write about my journey of those past shadows, but those shadows and the people that try to hold me in them by their thoughts, gossip and chatter will no longer dictate what I share.  I will not be stilled or silenced. 

I AM HERE TO SHARE STORIES OF GRACE- MESSY AND REAL.

From here on out, it will be God's wings shadowing over me with his redemption and grace.  Past, present, and future failures (we ALL have them) will not own me or stop me from sharing this truth.


FOR THIS I WRITE...      


***********

As long as I'm getting all of this off my chest, I am going to, once and for all, put this out there as well.  I already know that much of what I am being called to share may get "some people" in a twist.  As parts of my story unfold that involve "some people," I look to this quote from Anne Lamott:

"IF PEOPLE WANTED YOU TO WRITE WARMLY ABOUT THEM, THEY SHOULD HAVE BEHAVED BETTER." 

I have a LOT of story to share.  I have, unintentionally, ruffled a few feathers since I started blogging, and I am sure I will continue to ruffle more feathers.  I am aware that there have been divisive behaviors going on behind my back.  I cannot control what other people think, do, and say. 

RELINQUISHING ALL CONTROL TO GOD IN SITUATIONS LIKE THESE CAN BE DIFFICULT, BUT I SURRENDER MYSELF TO HIM KNOWING THAT HE SEES AND KNOWS THE DETAILS OF ALL.

He knows the truth, and He is worthy and capable of caring for my heart in the midst of what others try to do to me.  I can only be responsible for myself and my own actions, and I strive to be honest, transparent, and sensitive in all things.  I am a deep feeler and thinker so this is much easier said than done, but ultimately, I know I have to shelve my own feelings and concerns.  I write to honor God and God alone.

IT IS HIS STORY OF CONTINUED GRACE, REDEMPTION, TENDERNESS AND MERCY THAT I LIVE TO TELL.

I write from my own experience, and I'm not just tossing truths out without any sense of what it means to really live it.  If I have to choose between sharing something hard that God wants me to share or pleasing people, it won't be people that I please.


FOR THIS I WRITE...


***********

FOR ME THE WORDS ARE NOTHING SHORT OF A MIRACLE.

The words confirm to me why I am here.  I have never written anything in my entire adult life- and I mean NEVER.  I wrote a terrible piece in high school about a mouse living inside of my piano.  Ewww...  I think my teacher gave me a passing grade as a simple act of grace because he liked me.  Other than research papers for college, that piece was the last thing I wrote before 2011.  I awoke the morning of February 18, 2011 and felt an overwhelming weight that I needed to start a blog.  I knew that if I didn't do it, I was not listening to God's direction for me.  I was terrified.

I KNEW THE ONLY THING I COULD DO WAS TRUST.

THE ONLY THING THAT I CAN DO STILL IS TRUST.

Each word that comes is a gift, a miracle if you will.  I know that when I write, it is beyond me.  I also know that at any moment, God could remove the gift and I would have no more words.

FOR AS LONG AS HE STIRS THE STORY IN MY HEART, I WILL WRITE IT.

I looked back on my very first blog post.  (You can read it HERE.)  I stand beside each of those words a year and a half later.  Perhaps I would write them now a little less softly, and with more certainty and conviction because...

I KNOW THIS IS WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE DOING. 

Next to being a wife to my husband and mom/teacher to my children, this little corner of the internet is my "call."

FOR THIS I WRITE...

***********

I realize this particular piece may have a bit more of an "edge" to the feel of it compared to my normal writing.

PLEASE KNOW THAT SHARING GRACE, GRACE, GRACE AND HEART, HEART, HEART IS MY DEEP AND FOREVER CALL.

I felt strongly today that I needed to get into words why I am here.  I know the passion and conviction has sounded a bit firm.  As I have written these words, I realize it's not only about this space on the internet, but about my life.  Being upside-down is not just a fun little blog name to me, it's my very existence.  To live out the heart and share it here as God leads...

FOR THIS I WRITE...   


***********


Thank you for being here.  I appreciate each and every one of you.  Please know dear hearts, this is for you.

FOR THIS I WRITE...

Come As You Are

IMAGE...

Years ago, Ironman used to wear nice Dockers, pressed shirts, a tie, and a sport's jacket to preach in on Sunday mornings.  The church, at the time, was dissatisfied with his appearance and he was, unexpectedly, given a (generous) gift to purchase two tailored suits to be used for leading, preaching, and teaching.  At the time, we were told there was a certain image the church wanted to portray through its leaders.

PROFESSIONAL.  SHARP.  PUT-TOGETHER.  BUSINESS-LIKE.

IMAGE...

We gratefully, and naively accepted the monetary gift, and did exactly what was expected.  Without  giving the "heart" a second thought, we melted into the church culture and polished everything we said, did, and wore.  We wanted to be an asset and strength to the ministry of the church.  If they believed Dockers, jackets, and ties were not enough, we listened.  Tailored suits it would be.

***********

IMAGE...

Part of my church experience as a young person was within the Mennonite church culture.  Women were expected to wear coverings on their heads, they only wore simple dresses or skirts, they didn't cut their hair, and they wore no make-up.  I understand the beautiful honor for God many of these Mennonite women have in their hearts by following these traditions.  I have GREAT RESPECT for those whose hearts are fully offered to God in this, their personal form of worship.  As a young girl, I was told that women were to portray this image to others.

HUMILITY.  SUBMISSION.  SIMPLICITY.  REVERENCE. 

IMAGE...

Sometimes, though, tradition drowns the reason of why things are done, and the "heart" is forgotten.  Sometimes, tradition becomes rules, and rules become a platform of pride where judgment of others, who don't do or believe the same, is accepted.

***********

IMAGE...

In our ministry experience over the previous two decades, I've watched the church, as a whole, grow and change to accommodate our affluent culture.  Many churches seek to be culturally relevant with driving programs, slick services, dynamic preaching and teaching, jaw-dropping facilities, and cutting-edge music/worship.  Some pastors have traded in their tailored suits for jeans and t-shirts for the sake of being relevant to the younger generation.  Some churches have become a platform of excellence and can compare to almost any secular institution.

IMAGE... 

Please don't hear me wrong.  I know lives are being changed, needs are being met, and real ministry is happening within these churches- within the church as a whole.


GOD CAN MOVE AND SPEAK, AND LEAD AND GUIDE WITHIN *ANY* SETTING WHERE HE IS EARNESTLY SOUGHT.

***********

I don't write to offend those who wear suits, or jeans, or wear coverings, or have state-of-the-art worship services that put even Hollywood to shame.  I am writing, because...

I AM CONCERNED THAT WE ARE TOO WRAPPED UP IN OUR IMAGES.

The church is consumed with image- and we are consumed with our own images.  We get so wrapped up in doing and creating something to project for others to see and believe, that we begin to hide behind the facade.  We have lost ourselves and lost precious parts of the church due to... 
  
IMAGE...

*********** 

FRIENDS, WE HAVE FORGOTTEN.

WE HAVE FORGOTTEN TO COME AS WE ARE...

***********

Strip away your image, and fall at the feet of HIM who sees and knows you better than you know yourself.  He doesn't want suits or dresses, or polished excellence.

HE WANTS YOU...

ONLY YOU...


Broken and cracked, threadbare and torn...

WE ARE ALL IMPERFECT...

COME.

If you are filled with shame or filled with pride, tattooed and  tattered, weathered and worn,  beat and bedraggled,  empty or full...

AS YOU ARE...

COME.

If you are full of sorrow or full of joy, lost or found, confused or certain, at peace or in rags...

AS YOU ARE...

COME.

***********

GOD DOESN'T CARE ABOUT IMAGE.  HE CARES ABOUT YOUR HEART.

You are a beautiful mess to HIM. I am a beautiful mess to HIM.  HE only wants me to come, and you to come.

COME AS YOU ARE...  

"The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart."  1 Samuel 16:7 (NIV)

Hear HIS whisper and come...

 

Andy Griffith and the Days Gone By.....

Our family has been watching re-run episodes of The Andy Griffith Show on Netflix for the past couple of months.  As I was tinkering around the kitchen pulling the last elements of dinner together, I stopped dead in my tracks.  The scene on the TV gripped  my heart in a way unexpected.

Andy, Aunt Bea, Opie, and Ellie Mae were sitting on the porch enjoying the summer evening.  Andy serenaded them on his guitar with a whimsy and eloquence all the same, creating a song on the fly about it being Opie's bedtime.  As if this wasn't enough cozy to warm my sappy nostalgic heart, along came Barney strolling in the moonlight.  Andy called out, "Barn, why don't you come on up here and sit a spell with us."  Barney meandered up to the porch, and sat down right where he belonged.

I was gripped by sadness.  I was actually fighting back tears.  You see, something has been lost...

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL FROM DAYS GONE BY... 

LOST.

Community- true community- just seemed to happen naturally back then.  Front porches facilitated an outlet for people to gather, celebrate, mourn, and just plain belong.  When did we stop building porches on our houses?  When did we decide it would be better to go inside than to connect with our neighbors- with our community?  When did the heartfelt care and concern for those around us somehow become less of a priority?  When did we stop being a place for others to belong?

The front porch was part of community culture all those years ago.  My dad tells stories of sitting on the porch as a little boy, and knowing every single person in his neighborhood and most things about them.  Everyone waved, everyone smiled, some climbed the steps, grabbed a chair, and sat for a "spell."

SOMETIMES, I WONDER IF I WAS BORN IN THE WRONG GENERATION.

SIGH...

Now, we are too consumed with the hustle and bustle of life.  Our careers pressure us, and the drive to accomplish the American dream becomes the priority.  Our kids seem to constantly need taxied from one place to the next.  Activities outside our homes fill in the gaps. We are worn out and exhausted, and we unwind in front of the TV or computer screen.

WE HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT PORCHES.

In the days gone by, community seemed to be formed and built seamlessly and effortlessly.  Now, building community takes intentionality, effort, and persistence.  I want to be a place for people to belong, and I want to belong.  I don't want to think of what is lost with sadness, I want to strive to build something new.

I am thankful for Andy Griffith, and the legacy he left.  He has given us a picture of something worthy of recapturing... something to strive for and build...  something beautiful to seek and find.

PERHAPS, IN OUR CURRENT GENERATION OUR "PORCHES" LOOK A BIT DIFFERENTLY THAN THEY USED TO? 

Perhaps my upside-down little blog is a porch of sorts?  Please come.  Pour yourself a glass of iced-tea and sit with me a "spell."  I hope and pray you find the encouragement you seek, and may you always find grace and belonging here on the porch of my heart.

The Costly Flower

SHE STARTLED US.

We pulled into the parking space at our local Walmart, and a simply dressed lady, face weathered beyond her years from stress and sunshine, approached our vehicle even before we could get out.  Her pre-teen son held a bouquet of silk flowers.  "Could you please help us by buying one of our flowers?  We would appreciate anything you can give." 

We quickly scoured through our vehicle looking for loose change or dollars. We rarely carry cash, and all we could find between the seats, under the floor-mats, in the ash-tray, and at the bottom of my purse was a measly seventy-four cents.  PATHETIC.  Our youngest daughter, Sunshine Girl (click HERE to read her other flower story), chimed in from the backseat, "I have a dollar.  I want to give them my dollar."

TO AN EIGHT-YEAR-OLD A DOLLAR IS STILL A LOT.

Sunshine Girl had been carrying her dollar around for weeks trying to decide which Dollar Tree item would be worthy enough for her to part with her cash.  When she learned of this family's need, she didn't hesitate.  She handed me her crumpled dollar, that had been washed and dried at least once, to add to the seventy-four cents we had scrounged.  Sunshine Girl gave all she had to give with a giant smile plastered on her face.


"Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins.  Jesus called his disciples to him and said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions."  Mark 12:42-43 NLT


Ironman handed  the lady our money, and Sunshine Girl selected a yellow flower to keep.  I felt guilty that our family took a flower with such a measly donation, but...

MY LITTLE GIRL HAD JUST GIVEN EVERYTHING SHE HAD, NOT EXPECTING ANYTHING IN RETURN.

I wanted to allow her be blessed for her gift.


The weathered mother looked at us humbly through her sky blue eyes, "Thank you.  We just don't know what to do anymore... thank you."

HONEST-HEARTFELT THANKS FOR A DOLLAR AND SOME CHANGE... 

A DOLLAR... 

AND SOME CHANGE...

Ironman went  into the store to pick up the few items we needed.  I sat in the car with our kids thinking about the mama and her son.  My thoughts drifted on the reality of our own lives, and how we could have easily been in her situation more than once.  Ministry has not been kind to us.  Several years ago, we experienced being forced from a thriving ministry we loved which left us instantly jobless with a child on the way.  We've most recently experienced the utter exhaustion that comes from carrying people for years, and giving too much for too long.  These things, and many things in between, have left us on the brink more than once.  If it wasn't for my gracious parents we could have been in this mother's shoes... twice. I swallowed hard and fought tears.  We have been shown much grace.

GRACE...   

I imagined the mom and her boy sitting in their humble home- worried about where the next meal was coming from... worried about paying rent...  worried about medicine, electricity, clothes, dignity.  

DIGNITY...

Perhaps they spent their last few dollars buying ball-point pens, florist's tape, and silk flowers in hopes of making something people would want to purchase.  If they could sell the flower pens, it wouldn't be the same as taking a hand-out.  People might see their hearts, listen to their story, and know they were trying.  Maybe this was the only way they knew how to feel human in the midst of desperation?

TO THE LADY AND HER SON, THE BOUQUET OF FLOWERS WAS EVERYTHING.

They put their hope in the flowers that probably cost them all they had.  They trusted that by selling the flowers, their faithful investment would multiply.  Each flower was constructed with a prayer that their gaping need would somehow be filled.   

I texted Ironman emphatically and told him that we had to do something more.  I watched the soft-spoken mother go from car to car.  The bouquet was steadily shrinking.  I worried that Ironman wouldn't return before they left the parking lot, so I texted him again, "Hurry!" 

Just in time, Ironman appeared with two burgers and two cokes.  I jumped out of the car and took dinner to the mother and her son.  I slipped a bill into her hand.  As she was reaching to give me change, I turned and walked away.  She called out to me, "God bless you."  Her voice cracked, and her blue eyes filled with tears, "Jesus bless you."  I turned to her and said, "He has... through you.  Jesus bless YOU."

I asked Sunshine Girl if I could borrow her flower pen for a little while.  She, of course, said yes.  It's sitting in a special basket on a shelf in my room as a reminder.  When I look at it, I can't help but think of all the ways we are blessed.  We are surrounded by the love of family, and friends that are truly family. Every single one of our needs is, and has been cared for.  We may not be rich with monetary wealth, but we are overflowing with abundance in riches that really matter.  The flower reminds me of the cost one family paid to scrape by.  One dollar and seventy-four cents, two burgers, two cokes, a bill, and some prayers wasn't nearly enough to pay for the costly flower.

SHE STARTLED US.

...and I am grateful!   

"Feed the hungry, and help those in trouble.  Then your light will shine out from the darkness, and the darkness around you will be as bright as noon."  Isaiah 58:10

The Words Must Go On

The words must go on.

If I am misunderstood or misrepresented, the words must go on, and my life- MY STORY- must be told.  My story isn't more important than your story.  ALL of our stories are equally as important.  It just so happens that parts of my story are finding words.  Parts of your story might be finding words, too.  I have a call- a burden to share.  I don't share so that everyone who reads will understand me or my journey.  I SHARE FOR A HANDFUL- A FEW LIKE ME- BROKEN, YET HUNGRY AND THIRSTY FOR MORE OF JESUS.  I have to let go of those who misunderstand me and misrepresent me.  My own heart aches, wishing they would open theirs. But...

THE WORDS MUST GO ON...

I openly share the broken shambles of who I am, so you will know you are NOT ALONE- so you will know the truth- GOD REDEEMS BROKEN MESSES LIKE ME, AND HE CAN REDEEM YOU.  Something beautiful comes from the ashes of you and me.   So...

THE WORDS MUST GO ON...

I write to tell you about HIS WHISPERS, so you can recognize them, too.  HE BECKONS US TO COME... broken me and broken you.  We are ALL broken.  COME.  His heart is beautiful.  His love is safe. His voice is true.  And...

THE WORDS MUST GO ON...


I live and breathe and give and try and share and bleed and cry GRACE.  It's all about GOD AND GRACE.  


GRACE...  

GRACE... 

GRACE... 


I need grace.  I give grace.  I want to BE GRACE.  Grace changes me.  Grace changes you.  Bitterness melts away. Hurts are healed.  Anger is calmed. Reconciliation is possible.  GRACE.  My life is GRACE- my message is GRACE. And...

THE WORDS MUST GO ON...

Some take advantage of grace.  Some pin the reputation of the grace-givers against the wall and question WHAT we are, but they can't change WHO we are. WE ARE GRACE- BROKEN AND IMPERFECT- A SWEET PARADOX.  I exist to share the redemption of grace in my life, REAL AND GRITTY.  So...

THE WORDS MUST GO ON... 

Some people throw grace away and don't want it at all.  GRACE CAN BE TOO HONEST- TOO RAW- TOO VULNERABLE TO EMBRACE.  But grace-givers know, and grace-givers see. Broken ones, sometimes, don't grasp grace, because the PAINFUL HONESTY OF THEMSELVES IS TOO MUCH TO BEAR.  I know.  We know.


GRACE-GIVERS HAVE BEEN SWEPT THROUGH A RIVER OF PAIN SO THEY CAN SEE WHAT THEY SEE, FEEL WHAT THEY FEEL, AND GIVE WHAT THEY GIVE.


Some people hide behind walls.  They complain and moan and cry and judge, because this isn't the way they wanted it.  Is life ever the way any of us want it? GRACE IS THERE FOR THE TAKING, BUT SOMETIMES GRACE IS STOMPED AND TRASHED AND THROWN TO THE GROUND.  Grace-givers' hurt and disappointment is deep and real.  Pain surrendered turns into compassion.  Prayers are lifted.  GRACE-GIVERS STAND STILL AND QUIET IN TRUTH AND TRUST.  We scratch and claw our way to live out grace in the flesh- in our stories.  We surrender ourselves wholly to the One who understands all, and we allow ourselves to be held by Him.  Still...

THE WORDS MUST GO ON...


I am surrendered.  I am as fully abandoned to JESUS as I know how to be.  I TRUST HIM when life is hard AND when life is good.  I pray that my words are the ones He wants me to share.  I DO NOT TAKE LIGHTLY THIS "CALL" OF WORDS- THIS "CALL" OF GRACE.  I know that it is beyond me and my abilities.  I am humbled that He uses this broken girl to share His truth and the pieces of His heart that I know.  And..

THESE WORDS MUST GO ON...

"If I say I'll never mention the LORD or speak in His name, His word burns in my heart like a fire. It's like a fire in my bones! I am worn out trying to hold it in! I can't do it!"  (Jeremiah 20:9 NLT)

THESE WORDS *WILL* GO ON... 

Twice Adopted

I'm adopted. 

This is one of the most treasured parts of my crazy-beautiful-upside-down story.  Unless you're new to my blog or me, it's no secret that my father was a physically and emotionally abusive alcoholic.  My upbringing left me damaged and wounded with gaping holes that needed filled. 

When I was eighteen years old, my father exited my mom's life and mine for another woman and her small children.  On all levels, it was relief.  The abuser was gone. 

FINALLY.

When I was nineteen years old, I married my hero... my knight in shining armor... my Ironman.  I never dreamed that such a beautifully hearted man would choose broken me, but he did. 

MY LIFE HAS BEEN FOREVER CHANGED AND BLESSED BECAUSE OF HIM. 

MY MOM'S LIFE HAS BEEN FOREVER CHANGED AND BLESSED BECAUSE OF IRONMAN, TOO.

Two years into our marriage, Ironman's mom mentioned her dear cousin who was going through a bitter heart-sick divorce.  She wondered if my mom would be interested in meeting him?  I smile now because my mom, after going through hell, was perfectly content to be single for the rest of her life.  She, honestly and understandably, never wanted anything to do with another man again.  After a bit of pressuring from Ironman and me, she reluctantly agreed to meet the cousin. 

AFTER ALL, WHAT HARM COULD COME TO AN INDIANA GIRL FROM A COLORADO MAN LIVING 1,200 MILES AWAY?

I've never believed in love-at-first-sight stories until I witnessed one myself.  Colorado Man came and swept my mom off her feet with his charm, kindness, sincerity, and gentle love.  

TWO PEOPLE IN THE GREAT-SEA-OF-US-ALL FOUND EACH OTHER.

They met in April and were married the following year in September.  My mom sold her house, gave away most of her belongings except for a small car load, and moved to beautiful Colorado to rest in LOVE'S NEW HOME. 

***********

Four years  after their marriage, a phone call from my mom changed the course of my identity.  At the time, I was expecting our first child.  In the midst of the conversation it came up that Colorado Man wanted to, somehow, officially be my father, and a grandfather to the little one and future little ones that would join our family.  It wasn't enough that I called him "Dad" and he would be called "Grandpa."  He wanted his role to be recognized in an official capacity. 

HE WANTED ME, BROKEN ME, TO BE HIS OFFICIAL HEIR.

It was almost too much to drink in.  Colorado Man wanted to be my father... my dad.

HE WANTED ME. 

But how could this happen since I was a married adult- almost twenty-five years old?

With a little bit of research and a good lawyer, we discovered that adult adoptions were indeed legal and possible in the state of Colorado.  My mom and Colorado Man spent a year tying up legal footwork.  In the summer of 1997, we took our first vacation west with our little daughter to celebrate her first birthday with "Grammy" and "Papa Don."  During this same trip on August 6th, I officially became Colorado Man's daughter.

I WAS HIS HEIR.

I BELONGED.

I WAS CHOSEN... WANTED...LOVED.

In the twisted beauty of my story, because he is a cousin on Ironman's side of the family, my four children are actually blood related to their grandfather.  Only God could orchestrate something so sweet.  "Papa Don" is the best grandfather in the world to my kids.  He, sacrificially, gives his time and energy to them. He delights in them, and they in him. 

HE FILLS THEIR LIVES WITH LIFE, LIGHT, AND JOY.

It's beautiful to watch their relationships grow and deepen.  It is a brokenness restored to my heart.  My dad is a true gift to them and to me.

***********

SOMETIMES GIFTS HAVE DEEPER, HIDDEN TREASURES WAITING TO BE DISCOVERED.

I'll never forget the day that God whispered to me a gift of deeper understanding. 

MY DAD CHOSE ME, JUST LIKE GOD CHOSE ME.

"You didn't choose me.  I chose you."  John 15:16 (NLT)

I AM MY DAD'S HEIR, AND I AM ALSO GOD'S HEIR.

"And since we are His children, we are His heirs.  In fact, together with Christ, we are heirs of God's glory."  Romans 8:17 (NLT)

I AM PURPOSELY GRAFTED INTO MY DAD'S FAMILY TREE, AND I AM PURPOSELY GRAFTED INTO GOD'S.

"I am the vine;  you are the branches.  Those who remain in me and I in them, will produce much fruit.  For apart from me you can do nothing."  John 15:5 (NLT)

I AM WANTED, CHOSEN, DESIRED, CHERISHED, LOVED... ADOPTED... BY MY DAD, AND I AM WANTED, CHOSEN, DESIRED, CHERISHED, LOVED...ADOPTED... BY GOD.

"You received God's spirit when He adopted you as His own children.  Now we call Him, 'Abba, Father.' For His spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God's children."  Romans 8:15-16 (NLT)

WE ARE GOD'S CHILDREN-  HIS DAUGHTERS-  HIS SONS.

DRINK IN THE GIFT.

IT'S UNSPEAKABLY BEAUTIFUL.

Indeed!  There is no greater gift than being adopted.

I am twice adopted, and I am one grateful daughter.

***********

Happy Father's Day, Dads!  I honor YOU!

p.s.  The above picture is of my dad and my youngest having a ball in a bumper boat.  :)