It’s amazing to watch your kids learn and change so quickly. It’s sweet and fun and really humbling.

Oh also, it’s exhausting.

My daughter absolutely does not understand what the word “true” means but she really loves to use it when she’s mad. We’re constantly discussing why telling the truth matters, and explaining why it’s important. So when I tell her to brush her teeth or get her shoes on, she wails, “THAT’S NOT TRUE!” And I laugh every time. A lot of things frustrate me more than I’d like as a mom but this one cracks me up every time and I have no idea how to correct her in the moment.

Somehow, truth is a hot-button word in our culture right now. We’re encouraged to find our truth, to stick by it, to speak it out loud. And it sounds so good! I want to speak my truth, too! I want to have the kind of power to be able to dictate what’s true and what isn’t. But something deep in me cringes and pulls back any time I hear or read those words.

Because the reality is: I have no right to dictate what is true. And neither do you. 

That’s the thing about truth. It’s not up for grabs. It doesn’t change based on emotion. It isn’t altered by past experiences. The point of truth is that it’s unchanged and steady, not dictated by learned facts or opinions. Here’s how it’s defined in the dictionary: “being in accordance with the actual state of affairs.” *

Let’s be honest with ourselves. How often are our thoughts or emotions unbiased enough to be in touch with what’s actually going on?

Hear me out. I believe one hundred percent in reflecting on and owning your emotions and your experiences within your life story. In fact, I believe there’s no real moving forward in life without spending some intentional time and thought in processing your emotions and your perceptions.

But for those of us who call Jesus Christ our Savior, we are unknowingly stealing a piece of who He is when we claim that truth is something we can come up with on our own. Because Jesus made it clear. Truth is not a reality for us to take on. Truth is a person.  

“Jesus said, I am the way, the truth, and the life.” [John 14:6]

Why does it matter? If we love Jesus and we just use this term to help put words to our experience, what’s the hurt? Don’t be mistaken: it will hurt us. If we’re constantly looking inward to find “our truth”, we’ll find ourselves unbalanced and unfulfilled. Because we aren’t the ones who are supposed to be naming what’s true. That’s not a part of our job or our role as children of God.

Our role is to look inward, to assess our emotions and then ask the Holy Spirit to reveal what it all means. Our emotions and experiences don’t dictate our own personal truth; they point us to the person of Truth. 

If you’ve found yourself working to define your truth in order to protect yourself, and somehow still find yourself defensive and a little empty, I’m gonna challenge you to shift your thinking. The world works hard to convince us that we have control over the wrong things. It feels harsh, but it’s God’s kindness and grace that Truth is His. It’s Him.

When everything else changes and is unsteady and rocky, the Truth remains.

When you can’t trust the people around you, and it feels like your own thoughts can’t be tamed, the Truth remains.

When the facts don’t line up and you aren’t sure what or who to believe, the Truth remains.

Oh. The real Truth?

The Truth is that you are loved by a gracious God simply because He has chosen you. The Truth is that you never have to be good enough, because He already sees you as enough. The Truth is that you were saved from yourself long before you even knew you needed to be saved.

So as the counterfeit of truth swirls around you, put down the pressure of defining it for yourself. You have no need to work hard to define it or chase after it for yourself. The real truth is that the Truth has already chosen you.

So instead of standing strong with balled up fists defending what’s happened to us and who we have become, we can open up our hands and be still. We can let the Truth be our Defender and our Savior. We can let the Truth come to us.

 

“You are truly My disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. And you will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free.” [John 8:32]

 

 

 

 

* https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/true

 

Guys, the fun is over.

My kindergartener hates school. I really didn’t see this coming. But we’ve spent the last three school days crying all morning. It’s harder than dropping him off at day care. It’s way weirder than pre-school. I’m sending him on a bus with people I don’t know. And I was totally fine with it when he was fine with it. But now both of us are a little anxious.

I’ve asked him every question. Nothing is necessarily wrong, but it’s new and different, and it’s all beginning to sink in.

Since Brady was born, there is one verse that I have just always felt belonged to him. Honestly, I wanted to try to look for a cooler one. One that isn’t scripted on journals and wooden signs. But God’s word is powerful, no matter how often it’s used. It never loses its depth or meaning. So for almost six years now, I have prayed Joshua 1:9 over Brady. I pray that he would be strong and courageous because God is with him wherever he goes.

And this past week has given us a very real reason to use it. To be honest, I feel like a fraud or like I’m trying too hard. I’m not really a mom of a school-age kid, right? I still have babies, don’t I? I don’t know what is going on. I’m not sure how to convince my still sort-of-little boy that God is actually with him when he’s at school. So I painted a little star and wrote down in black sharpie and put it in his lunchbox. He can’t read it yet, but we’ve talked about what it says. I’m doing everything I can to let him know that it’s okay to be sad about this big change, but he still has to go. And he’s not alone. But how can I really convince him? How can I prove to Him that it’s really true? That God really is big enough to care about him?

Well, I’m not supposed to. 

Deep breath, moms. It is not our job to convince our kids (or anyone, really) about what God does or who He is. It’s His job. Our job is to say what’s true and do our best to live it. It seems impossible and somehow not enough.  But if we take on this responsibility as our own; believe that our kids’ relationship and trust in God sits on our shoulders, then God must not be very big or very loving.

“He was supreme in the beginning and – leading the resurrection parade – He is supreme in the end. From beginning to end He’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is He, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in Him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe – people and things, animal and atoms – get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of His death, His blood that poured down from the cross.” [Colossians 1:18-20 msg]

If He can do all this, can He not take care of your loved ones? Can he heal your anxious heart and comfort your kid? Can he teach you about humility while strengthening your child’s identity? Yeah, He can.

He’s not doing one thing at a time. He’s miraculously working so intentionally within you and every person you love all at once. When you are at the end of your rope because you have literally no clue what to say or how to help, and you’re convinced you’ve screwed it all up, God steps in.

His goal in making you a parent was not to teach you how to get it right. It was to teach you exactly what His strength looks like. If His strength is made perfect in our weakness, then our screw-ups as parents are the sacred opportunities He looks to use.

So what do we do? When our kids don’t want to go to school or they have no friends or they’re making insanely bad decisions.

The answer is always the same: we surrender. We give back to God the ones we love the most; the ones that He loves even more. We give up our silly belief that maybe it all rides on us.

Because honestly, what’s the alternative? It’s anxiety and nausea and shallow breathing. It’s spinning and working so hard your vision blurs a little. It’s panic and constant feelings of inadequacy. It’s a nagging never enough-ness.

So we trust. We trust that God actually is who He says He is. And we fall. And we trust again. And we pray. And sometimes we cry because it’s just dang hard.

And we trust.

And we trust.

And we trust.

“Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
    don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
    he’s the one who will keep you on track.”

[Proverbs 3:5-6 msg]

 

I don’t know what part of the world you live in, but right now in Maryland, it is FALL. If fall is not your favorite season, we need to have a talk. I’m serious. My windows are open and my house smells like pumpkin. I am convinced this is what Jesus has waiting for me in heaven.

By the time fall comes, I’m ready for a change. I’m ready for layers and absolutely prepared to stop sweating all the time from this dang humidity. I’m ready for the change of pace and some more routine.

The funny thing is though, anyone who’s closest to me would tell you: I publicly hate change. I’ve said it my whole life. It takes me so long to adjust to new ideas. In fact, my husband will often call me with new plans for ministry and I’ve told him to just text me first because my reaction is almost always, “no.” My gut reaction to doing stuff a new way is defensive. I’m not proud of it; it just is. If you want to know too much, the first thing I was diagnosed with in therapy was an adjustment disorder. Soooo it’s kind of official.

But as fall is making itself known; I realized the truth about myself, and I’d be willing to bet it’s true about you, too. It hit me as I decorated my house with pumpkin candles and little wooden signs. The truth is, we’re fine with change. In fact, we need it and we crave it. As long as it’s a change we can control or at least predict. Seasons change four times a year. We know this is coming. Whether we love it or hate it, it’s the fact of most of the states in this country. Inevitably, we age. Bummer. Our kids grow up daily. We may have no idea what we’re doing but at least we kind of knew it was part of the “living life” package.

The changes that cause us to misplace our peace and our stability are the ones we didn’t expect and we have no control over. Illness. Emergencies. Job losses. Relationships that we didn’t intend on shifting. Grief and loss. Pain.

If we’re honest with ourselves, the issue most likely isn’t that it’s something new or different. We just don’t hold the control.

And if we’re even more honest, these are the seasons that shape us, aren’t they? They define us one way or the other. But we have choices as to where our identity will take root. Our first choice is to dig our heels into what used to be and grip onto a false sense of stability until our hands are ready to fall off; and we will be shaped. We will be shaped into anxiety and fear-ridden people who are believing the lies that control brings. The lies that control brings us peace and security. Really, the lie that we have any control at all.

Our second choice is more simple but somehow way more difficult. It’s letting go. It’s believing the truth about control: that the One who truly holds it is also holding you. That nothing in your life moves without an Almighty God’s approval and perfectly thought-through planning. It’s trust. It’s surrender. It’s submission.

The other lie that control tricks us into believing is that God is the control freak. Oh man, and it’s just so untrue.

He’s given us so much more than we recognize, even if it doesn’t always feel that way. We can take control over the parts of our lives that God gave to us. We get to control our thoughts, our attitudes, our words. We get to control how we respond and how we love others. We have the say in where we put our energy and how we spend our time. And believe it or not, we get to decide how close we are with God. Since He is perfect and stays seated on His throne, He’s not moving or shifting. We are. We get the control over our distance or our proximity to our Savior. Call me crazy, but that doesn’t sound like a controlling God to me.

So what do we do? Since everything’s changing around us constantly and we can’t stop it, we let it happen. And we take authority over the power that’s been given to us. We are not victims in our own lives. We have a say.

We don’t get to control who our children turn out to be, but we get to decide how we love them.

We don’t get to control how others feel about us, but we get to decide how we react.

We don’t get to control God’s perfect will, but we get to decide how much we’ll trust Him as He carries it out.

We need the change. Whether you consider yourself a control freak who orders the same exact coffee every day, or you thrive on spontaneity, no one wants to stand still while life moves on. So don’t believe the lies of control that you either get all the say or none at all.

Let’s see where God wants to take us. It’s a crazy balance of complete trust and intentional discipline. Whatever is changing around you without your approval, your God’s hand is carefully writing your story. He’s got a really good one for you. And what a thrilling honor to get to say “yes” or “no”. Like it or not, the choice is yours.

 

“A man’s mind plans his way [as he journeys through life], but the Lord directs his steps and establishes them.” [Proverbs 16:9]

 

Guys, it happened.

Somehow, the child that is a baby is now going to school full-time. Someone explain this to me. It’s taken forever to get here, but also, wasn’t he just born?

Also, this little man is the one who spilled water on my computer, which is why there was no blog last week. Let’s all take a moment and pray that the lovely Apple people can restore it in Jesus’ name.

I couldn’t be mad at him for long, though. Look at him!

So today was the day. I sent my kindergartener on the bus with a little white hat with his name and classroom on it. I drove my preschooler to her own school and dropped her off and she didn’t look back.

This is big. It’s cute and small in comparison to life’s big changes, but every adorable transition is a giant step toward independence and away from dependence on me. I guess that’s the point, right? We hope that they will grow and make their own decisions and become smart, capable, lovable people.

To those of you who have already been here, you smile at us with the little kindergarteners and say, “Oh, this is just the beginning. Just wait.” And I know your experience in parenting has brought you to new places so much bigger than a ride on a yellow bus.

But every big, little, cute or not so cute transition leads us back to one huge reminder. The only thing that will keep us alive as parents.

They aren’t ours.

How kind is God? He creates His children so carefully and intricately within us and then allows us to raise them. He gives us these little lives to raise and nurture and discipline and love, when He’s their true dad. And only when I remember this massive truth can I survive any of the letting go moments.

As parents, we get a unique opportunity to learn about surrender. Everyone has the opportunity to trust God. Life has no shortage of moments to control, but kids bring about an entirely new need for Him. We have responsibilities, yeah. Like a lot of them. We are the ones to teach them about kindness, forgiveness, sharing, standing up for themselves and for others, cleaning up and working hard. We teach them manners and we give them opportunities to grow their gifts and talents. We discipline and teach them consequences and that love means following through. And the God of the universe has trusted us to do it.

But your awesome kid? They are God’s awesome kid first. While you work hard to figure out what on earth you’re supposed to say and do and not do, God’s Spirit is simultaneously working within you and within you. Teaching you both wisdom and grace at the same time. Teaching you humility and teaching them strength. You are not simply being guided by God as you figure this stuff out. Reminding you that you’re not alone feels almost watered down compared to the truth. The Spirit of God is speaking, breathing, guiding, walking with, behind, and ahead of you. You cannot escape His presence.

They are His. He’s a fierce Dad; a protector and an avenger. He is careful with them. He knows what they can take and what they can’t. And He knows what you can take, too.

So as we take every single big step, whether it’s the bus or senior year or a wedding or a grandchild, remember: Their Dad has them. And He has you. He holds you both tight but pushes you forward, too.

Go ahead and cry because the changes matter. Feel all the weight of every transition. Be a human being. And then I pray our posture would change to, “Wow. Thanks, God for sharing them with me.”

The world tell us that we are supposed to release them into the world. But they’re wrong. Our job is not to release them to the world. It’s to release them to God. Our job is not to get it right. Thank God, because we just can’t. Our job is to give them back. As often as we give our hearts back to Jesus, we’ve got to turn over our children to the One who loves them more than we could imagine.

They are amazing. They are smart, equipped, capable people because they have been created by a loving Dad. What an amazing partnership He’s offering to us.

So I’m in it with you today. Whether your baby is a few days old, or your baby is about to have their own baby – let’s open up our hands and our hearts to give back what has never truly belonged to us. The most precious thing that has ever been offered to us: God’s kids.

 

“Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He’s the one who will keep you on track.”

[Proverbs 3:5-6 msg]

This past weekend, our church hosted a freaking awesome women’s event. I’m very serious. I would try to list a few words here to give you an idea (ahem, nachos and karaoke), but none of it would do the night any justice. I got the amazing opportunity to answer a few questions as a part of a panel during the event. The whole night was focused on true community, and it forced me to really consider what community has done for me.

When they asked what I’ve gained by being a part of a community, I answered, “Everything.”

And my answer was real. It wasn’t for drama or effect. For about two years, everything in my life became heavy and blurry. Through therapy, time, and God’s mercy, the light has come through more than the dark has lately. I’ve found breathing to be easier, and gratitude isn’t such a stretch for me.

As I’ve begun to look back on my season of heaviness, I’ve seen your faces. You, the women who were there. Your face and your words and your eyes flash in my mind. I remember Nichole putting her arm around me and telling me God was saying I needed to be still. I remember Sherilyn writing in my birthday card, “I’ll believe for you until you can believe yourself.” I remember Kristin crying with me in the parking lot. And I remember Emily and Helen and Dawn and Jenn and Arlene and Justine and Lisa and Lily and Gina and Kas and Alecia and all of the other women that would take up this entire blank space. I literally keep going back and adding names. But if you’re wondering if you’re one of them, you are.

Thank you for loving me when I felt unloveable. For either being gentle or maybe pushing me when my walls came up. When I fought tears because I was so tired of them, you let them be there. Thank you for sitting with me in my hurt. Thank you for never rushing me. And when I rushed anyway because I was afraid to slow down, you let me do that, too.

Thank you for picking up the pieces when I couldn’t fulfill my responsibility. Thank you for taking my kids when I just couldn’t anymore. Thank you for texting me even if I didn’t respond. Thank you for never making me feel judged or less than. Thank you for never making me explain myself. You taught me what I thought I already knew; that shared silence can be just as powerful as all the right words.

You did so much more than just “be there.” You were more than extensions of grace; you were and are grace and love. When I couldn’t seem to find Jesus, I saw Him in you. When I felt unseen by Him, I felt seen by you.

To all of you who are simply loving people by being you, and feeling like what you’re doing isn’t all that important; you matter. When you write a card and toss it in the mail, you are extending the touch of God. Don’t underestimate your words. Don’t sell short what just your presence in someone else’s turmoil can do. And when there just aren’t any words at all, just being present can help to fill a void. You are changing lives. You are assisting God in His journey with them to freedom. It’s what you did for me. You taught me vulnerability and humility and gentleness. You taught me what God’s strength made perfect in weakness looks like. Because I’m not idolizing you. I know you’re not perfect. I know you’ve got your stuff going on. But you cared, and you acted. And it changed me. And because I’ve been affected by you, others will be healed, too.

To anyone reading this who is experiencing more darkness than light lately, let them in. Find them. There are women who would be so honored to patiently walk through the confusion and the heartache with you. It’s more than just worth it. They are the tangible life raft God has given you.

And to those of you who are maybe doing fine; but you have broken and hurting women in your lives, they need you. You’re not sure how to help or what to say. You’ve never experienced their kind of trauma or loss. Right now, they don’t need your advice. They don’t even need to know if you have similar experience. They just need your presence, and they need to know you’ll remain steady.

This post is about the specific women in my life, but it’s so much bigger. I know they are in yours, too. My prayer is that you would stop and look back on the ones who have been there for you. Or open your eyes to the ones who need you now. The time to acknowledge our people is always now. It doesn’t take much. Maybe just one little sentence in a text or a card that reads: “I am better because of you.”

 

“In this way, whatever happens to one happens to all. If one suffers, everyone suffers. If one is honored, everyone rejoices. You are the body of the Anointed One, and each of you is a unique and vital part of it.” [1 Corinthians 12:26-27]

Have you ever driven somewhere and finally reached where you were going and wondered: “How did I get here?” Those moments scare me, because I wonder if I was paying attention to the road at all. It normally happens when I’m driving somewhere familiar, just lost in thought.

But it happens in life, too.

Have you ever wondered how you got here?

Looking at your life with God, you’re not sure how you ended up where you are now. Maybe you were convinced you were free of this stuff. Maybe you thought you’d be stronger than you are now. But somehow, it feels like your dependency and your intimacy with Him has just faded. You didn’t mean for it to happen. But the distance feels so far and your familiarity with God feels so foreign.

And you fall back into the same kind of patterns of insecurity, jealousy, anger. You look at where you used to be and where you are now and it feels impossible to get back. You feel frustrated and anxious. Or maybe you feel nothing at all.

This is where I’ve found myself at the ending of this summer. I’ve been so far out of my routine, my daily connection to God has been a little watered down. We’re still talking. I’m still praying. But that secret place with just Him and me? It’s been a little stale and a little empty.

What do we do when we aren’t sure how to get back?

We ask.

The beautiful and sometimes really scary part of doing life with God is we can’t work our way to Him. Our intimacy level is based on our surrender. And surrender is letting it all go and giving it to God, yeah. But it’s so much more. It’s the willingness to be broken. I’m pretty sure we’re mostly okay with the first part. We’ve heard and we’ve probably seen that God really does know better than us. That handing over our lives to the One who created them is the only way to truly live.

But what we often fail to mention is the part that happens after surrender. The way that God pulls us back in. Because it can be super messy. When we ask God to take it all, to humble us, we don’t get to decide how He does it. And He really wants it all. In order to be fully known and loved, it’s all gotta go. God is after any part of us we’ll give Him, but He’s not content with the pieces we’ve decided are good enough. He’s after the broken parts. And in His sovereignty, He allows them to break just a little bit more to show you the beauty in your desperation.

Lysa Terkeurst posted this on Instagram this week, and it’s been ringing in me. “Emotions are evidence you aren’t dead inside.” The moments that feel the most shattered are most likely exactly what’s needed to bring you to where you’re wanting to go. We want to get closer to God. We want to step into deeper levels. But we aren’t usually thrilled with what it takes to get there. It’s not by reading more books or studying the Old Testament.

It takes surrender, and a willingness to do it God’s way after we say yes. It’s open ended and ongoing. If we want to do it God’s way, we can’t cling to our way. If we want His healing, we can’t self-soothe and choose other things to make us feel whole. If we want clarity, we can’t hold tight to our plans. If we want nearness to God, we’ve got to let go of our fear of vulnerability and brokenness.

God knows what He’s capable of, and He knows us. He knows what we need and we often don’t.

So whether you’ve turned away from God intentionally, or somehow you just found yourself distant; you only have one job.

Ask.

Ask for the desire to come back again. Ask for God to take over. Ask for the strength to lean into brokenness to truly see Him. Ask for desperation, for a longing for change. Ask for a desire to want to be in His word.

And ask to stick with it when God answers you His way.

God is longing for nearness more than you are. Your love for Him can’t compare to His for you. He’s on the edge of His seat, just waiting for you to ask for what He’s been waiting to give you. Just ask.

 

 

“All who are obsessed with being secure in life will lose it all – including their lives. But those who let go of their lives and surrender them to Me will discover true life.”

[Luke 17:33]

 

I saw it in a moment.

At the beach, applying sunscreen (again) to my kid who was having the time of his life. Jumping in the waves for literal hours, sand EVERYWHERE. Practically before my hands left his face, he was off again. His back was already to me, and I told him what I tell him probably a million times a day, “I love you!” He was practically in the waves already, but I heard it repeated back – his learned response. “Love you!”

I sat back in my beach chair and watched him, and I felt it hit me. There was so much more wrapped up in my “I love you” than just words. I was paying attention to the thirty freckles that popped up across his face. His tan hands that move constantly as he talks and explains every detail of his stories. His hilarious laugh as the waves totally knocked him out. His raspy voice when he gets tired.

I know he responded to me with as much love as a five-year-old can. “Love you!” is a repeated response that’s just become second nature.

Clear as day, not necessarily with an audible voice, but more of a gut punch, God said, “That’s how I feel about you.” It wasn’t good or bad or right or wrong, necessarily. But I saw myself in my son, too busy having fun to slow down, squeezing every minute out of the day. And when he finally returned back to me to take care of him, he heard the phrase that I say to him all day, every day.

It’s the same thing that God is saying to me all day, every day. In every single moment, He’s answering prayers for me or delaying His answers to care for me better. He’s slowing me down enough to see Him, and to be taken care of. I don’t think He’s upset with me that I throw back a quick, “Love you, too” once in a while – but I know for sure, I’m missing out on His ridiculous love that’s so constant. And I wonder if maybe you are, too.

Because as I watch my son play at the beach, I’m noticing every single beautiful thing about Him that I love. And I’m sorry, it’s cheesy, but you know those rare moments when everything just feels good and you swear your heart’s growing? Like the Grinch? Like this tiny little red cartoon heart is busting out of its box?

That’s how God is constantly trying to show us how He feels. Except He doesn’t just feel it when things feel good. He doesn’t just feel proud of me when I’m happy and doing a good job. He’s paying attention to my small freckles, too. He loves the way I laugh and how I love others. He loves how I feel things really big even though I don’t. He loves my love for words, because He gave that love to me.

And you? He loves every unique piece about you. He’s noticing all of them, as you go about your day. He’s consistently reaching out, with a quiet, “Hey, I love you.”

He loves how intentional you are with your friends. He loves when you apologize to your kids for being impatient. He loves how much you love to read or host parties for the people you love. He loves hearing you sing or watching you paint. He loves when you say yes to the things that are fulfilling. It’s so deep and great and wide, there’s no way we can grasp it.

I hate comparing myself as a parent to how God feels about me. Because God is a perfect Dad, and I am a completely imperfect mom. I am an imperfect everything. But this small moment, I saw myself running away from God to other things, yelling back, “Love you!”

He wants me to have fun and experience life. But if I’m not returning to Him consistently to connect heart to heart, I’ll never really know Him. I want to respond to Him in my daily life – seeing Him weaved in and out of my day, but I want so much more. I want to slow down enough to hear from Him the things He loves about me; because they reflect Him. Each good thing in me is a reflection of my Dad, my Creator. When I slow down enough to be reminded just how loved I am, I see so much more of who He really is.

It’s too big for us, but it’s still there. He’s still there, offering us as much of Himself as we’ll take. My prayer is that we would experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully [Eph. 3:19]. If we aren’t careful, our response to the vast love of God is a rehearsed reply.

God, let our response to you be rooted and sure, but never flippant. I pray we’d never get used to Your love for us. I pray we’d never get so accustomed to Your pursuit of us that we become complacent. I pray you’d help us to seek to be knocked over by You. Overwhelmed, completely washed in Your grace and mercy and patience. To be reminded that You are paying such close attention to the details of our lives. To never take for granted that You are the best dad; waiting for us to run to you with an intentional response to Your outpouring of love for us. Let it never grow old, God. 

 

“How deeply intimate and far-reaching is His love! How enduring and inclusive it is! Endless love beyond measurement that transcends our understanding – this extravagant love pours into you until you are filled to overflowing with the fullness of God!“ [Ephesians 3:18-19]

Today, she is four years old.

And a few weeks ago, we were minutes from losing her.

It sounds dramatic, but it’s just the truth.

You deal with your fare share of scares (woah, rhyming) with kids when they’re young. We’ve had a few extras in there with some allergic reactions and rushes to the ER. But honestly, nothing prepares you for seeing the top of your three year old’s head bobbing in the deep end of the pool.

Everything moved in slow motion. I didn’t even get out of my chair. I just saw a head and said it out loud. Her swimmies were off. We have no idea how she got in there. We were all right there. She’s totally fine, by the way.

But I’ve wondered if I am.

Since then, my thoughts feel something like this:

She could have been at the bottom of the pool and we would have had no idea. I know Jesus totally saved her. Did I pray for protection over her that morning? Why did He choose to save her and other kids die all the time? Is this just a test to see how I react and maybe she’s going to die at a young age? How does God’s will work?

Yeah. But in my head, it’s pretty much one, long, run-on sentence.

I’m not really a worrier as a mom. When they fall, I don’t freak out. I don’t typically dream up all of the horrible scenarios that “could be”. It isn’t bad or good or right or wrong. It just is.

But this one moment has shifted how I see everything. And I have a choice in which route I want to take. But my point in writing this post isn’t for drama or attention or even to talk about the dangers of drowning. Above all of the fear that has attempted to work its way into my thoughts, the overwhelming words that I train my brain to return to are:

I am so thankful.

I’m not talking about just thankful she’s alive. When life literally flashes before your eyes, everything gets put into perspective. Olivia is my challenger. She has taught me more about myself in four years than just about anything else I’ve had to go through in life. She is stubborn and smart. If you ever wanted to know what a “strong-willed child” looks like, hang out with my girl for a day.

She feels big, she reacts big, she fights big, and she loves really big. And most days, I feel tired and stretched. But this horrific could have been moment has zapped me into gratitude.

It feels cheesy even in my head to think it, let alone type it for you to read. But I’m gonna say it because it’s still true. Our life is short. Our people are precious. It’s not about even making the most of every day – but oh my gosh, God has given us so much.

She is four today. Our banisters are covered in pink streamers and there are unicorn balloons on any surface I could find. I love celebrating birthdays. People are important. We should remind our people as often as possible that they are worth celebrating. But lately I’ve been wondering: why can’t we just treat every day just as special? And then I answer my own question. Because life is life, and there are lunches to make and full laundry baskets and budgets to stick to. Because you probably shouldn’t eat cake for breakfast every day, and people have to go to work.

When it’s your birthday in our house, it’s your day. You pick the movie, the food… you get to decide what kind of day you want. And I want just a little bit more of that in our every day life. Just a little bit more of celebration and fun and “sure, why not?” Just a little bit less of “not now, I’m busy.” Because life really is precious and so are the people in it.

We don’t have much control in this life, but we can control how we love. How big and wide and intentional our attention and affection can be… it really is up to us.

So I want to love big and risk just a little bit of my tidy life to cherish the ones I have. I want to hold their hand and scoop them up often and say yes to donuts and playing. I want to sit next to them and say no to responsibilities that don’t matter quite as much.

God gifted me with a brand new batch of mercy today, so I’m just gonna focus on the hours in front of me. I’ll focus on making choices that make them feel loved and valued, and tomorrow? There will be more grace.

I am sure of this: Rainy summer days were designed by God.

Well, all of the days are designed by God, but you know what I mean. We’re currently on vacation. At a beach house in New Jersey with six adults and five kids under nine. And today, it’s raining. This week is full of everything for us. We take things slow but there’s a lot of planning and as you’d imagine, lots of chaos.

Most of our time here is spent at the beach; long, sunny, sandy days. But at this moment, the house is silent. The older kids are at the boardwalk with the dads and my littlest one is watching a movie.

Sometimes it takes getting out of your norm to really see what God has been saying to you all this time. And today, to me, He’s saying:

“I’m really in everything.”

I hope I can convey in words how this feels. Because it’s grounding and freeing and everything else you’d ever need.

This year I’ve decided to accept and tackle anxiety in new ways. I’ve worked on having less stuff and creating more space. I’ve resisted the urge to continue… continue eating, continue shopping, continue working out, continue cleaning. I’ve worked hard to create spaces that allow for breathing room in my mind and my body. And I know God is honored by that.

I’ve also allowed more play. I’ve failed to resist the urges to continue and I’ve overindulged because I can. I’m continuing to learn that God is in the mess and the chaos. He’s in the loud, the laughter. He’s there with play doh and dirty dishes and undone piles. He’s present in the spontaneous and the full days that last way past bedtime. And I know God is honored by that.

We are constantly looking for ways to get more of God, aren’t we? We’re trying to rearrange our schedules, read the best books, say yes and no to the right things. We’re trying to do it right. We want to hear from Him. We want to do what would make Him proud of us.

And I’m afraid in trying to figure out where He is, we’ve limited His presence and diminished His ridiculously vast love.

I’m praying wherever you are, as you read this, that your heart would beat a tiny bit faster, like mine is. Because oh my gosh.

He’s in it all.

And not just in it. Not just present, like, in the same room. He’s active and moving and speaking and listening. He’s feeling everything you feel and partying with you and mourning with you.

In literally all of it. As I sit on the beach and watch my kids run and jump in the waves seven million times, over and over and over. When that feeling of peace literally washes over me and I feel like I can conquer the world. When all of life’s blessings seem to just manifest right in front of my eyes.

In literally all of it. As I text with my friend whom I’ve prayed for for two years now, who is still in a wheelchair. As I process through the losses of the past two years and the anxiety that I thought might take me out. When my worst, most embarrassing days are still crystal clear in my memory and I wonder who I’ve become.

And in all of it… I’m free.

I’m free to sit outside on the porch on the rain. I’m free to cry at things people might think are stupid. I’m free to laugh so hard I can’t breathe. I’m free to mess it up really, really bad. I’m free to experience grace as if God didn’t pour it all out on me yesterday.

He’s not one or the other. He’s not either quiet or forceful, He’s not either joy or comfort. Suffering and parties and solitude and rain and sun… they’re all existing in you, for you, on purpose.

A year ago, I made a deal with myself that I would blog once a week. It would keep me accountable, keep me writing. I’m thankful that so many of you read and encourage me. I felt the pressure to keep up and post, even on on vacation. And then I thought, “I can say no, even to myself.” I don’t have to. And remembered again that sometimes we need to be reminded of the super simple truths. We don’t always need to keep digging for something new. We just need to seek Him. God’s Word has stood the test of time with old words, and He’s still doing new things.

What do you feel is tying you down today? Are you suffering and longing for joy? Are you loving life and feeling guilty? Did you mess it up so bad, and you just aren’t sure how you can recover? Is everything beautiful and sacred? Or is everything chaotic and busy?

“Let me be clear, the Anointed One has set us free – not partially, but completely and wonderfully free! We must always cherish this truth and stubbornly refuse to go back into the bondange of our past.” [Galatians 5:1]

You are free. To experience all of life with the Creator of the world experiencing it with you. Whatever it is you need, or lack, or hope for… Our God is pursuing you with it. He works in seasons that are purposeful. The ups and the downs are weaved together in His perfect plan for you, exactly where you are.

“So we are convinced that every detail of our lives is continually woven together to fit into God’s perfect plan of bringing good into our lives, for we are His lovers who have been called to fulfill His designed purpose.” [Romans 8:28]

There is something special about this season. There’s a pull toward slower days. Vitamin D is a real thing. I know there are two sides to summer. Those of us who work and those of us who don’t. And I can tell you right now, I’ve done both. And even if you’re working in the summer, there’s still something different that happens.

Pace and mindsets shift. Evenings are longer and we’ve invited to linger a little bit. Routines are either pushed out the window totally, or at least stretched. And it’s all so good.

Except for the super subtle shift that happens when our routines change. It can happen any time, really. For any reason. It’s the slow, small drift away from our need for Jesus.

Just like everything else, it starts so small we hardly notice it. We sleep in later than normal, and skip that quiet time. We get a little distracted buying things for vacation, and get a little too comfortable. Before we know it, He slips lower and lower on our list of priorities. And the only way we notice it is because it suddenly comes out of us.

It happens so fast, it’s scary.

We suddenly find ourselves with less joy, less peace, less grace – because we have less of Him. 

“I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with Me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing.” [John 15:5]

Don’t get me wrong – God is all about rest and comfort and play. He’s pushing us to enjoy nights with our family and take vacations to escape normal life for a bit. The danger is when we subconsciously believe the lie that these momentary comforts can replace what He can give us. More importantly, who He is to us.

If you’re finding yourself a little more impatient lately, or more frustrated than you once were: it may be time to ask yourself where you’re allowing your joy to come from. Are you struggling to find that connection with God that you once had? Ask Him to point out in you if there is anything you’ve allowed to replace Him. He’s kind and honest, and there are no hoops to jump to come right back to where He has been waiting the whole time.

It’s less about choosing one or the other, really. He’s in it all. He’s in the beautiful nights and beach days. He’s in everything beautiful and good because He is the source of everything beautiful and good. He isn’t trying to take anything away from you, He’s simply wants to be the center of your life.

And the best part? God’s love and shame cannot coexist. So that twinge of shame you feel for stepping away and allowing that drift? God’s already chosen to forget it. He’s just thrilled to be close with you again.

I know that for some of us, this goes way deeper than getting distracted in the summertime. It’s not always an unintentional shift. Sometimes we walk away and it’s absolutely not an accident. But guess what? His forgiveness and His grace is exactly the same for you.

It takes nothing except repentance and a sincere heart. If you’re feeling distant and not sure how to get back, you can borrow these words.

God, 

I’m sorry for believing the lie that other things will satisfy me other than you. Honestly, sometimes they do for a little while. But I know the only good thing in me is You. Forgive me for choosing anything other than You. I choose to believe today that you love me. That you see past my mistakes and you want to fill all the places that I lack. Search me and know me all the way. I want to give my life to you and let you invade all of it. The good and the bad. I’ve seen who I am without you, and I know it’s not who I want to be. Keep me tethered to you. I give you my life. 

Amen. [so be it]