Writing the Mess

I am just an ordinary woman wanting to make a difference in the world—

Somebody’s world.

I choose to be real and vulnerable for someone—

Anyone—

to be impacted by the extreme and relentless love of God.

My journey is no different than yours.

It’s messy.

In a life marked with both wrestling and surrendering to Jesus,

I find purpose.

I write of God’s pursuit to fully capture my heart.

My journey is no different than yours.

It’s messy.

It’s real.

I am just an ordinary woman wanting to make a difference in the world—

Your world.

lk

Even This?

I ran my finger over the inscription of the silver heart. Those words—I swear I could hear them mocking me—even laughing as my soul wrestled with its meaning.

G r a t i t u d e    i n   a l l    t h a t   i s

What is that supposed to mean?

On a better day it would have been a sweet sentiment—one quickly forgotten. But that day wasn’t good. I suppose a “good” Christian would accept the seemingly kind cliché and take it as a sign to praise the Lord through the valleys of life. But I don’t want to be a good Christian—just a real one.

I sneered at the words in disgust and abandoned the pendant to the sales clerk. But those words, already impressed on my soul, would never leave me.

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

As the days followed the He urged me to find the gift in each day—everyday. Tell me—how am I to find the gift in dark moments and seasons of life?

How does anyone?

I wrestle for the gift as the First Boy defiantly ignores my direction. He says nothing, but his eyes tell me ‘no, never, and I will always hate you.’

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

Even this?

The Blonde Boy hurls a pinecone at me. He is angry for my thoughtlessness of putting both open and closed pinecones into one single bag. Seriously.

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

Even this?

Even when…

            a car slams into mine?

When my child is sick?

When there is a water leak?

When my son gets picked on at school?

When the ledger shows more red than black?

When a friend rejects me?

When there is no hot water for days?

When business is molasses slow?

When the child can’t keep any food down?

When I boil pots of water to wash the dishes

and wash soiled sheets in cold?

When ants greet me in the food pantry

and when they surprise me in the loft?

When my boys won’t get out of bed in the morning,

and when they won’t get into bed at night?

When the plumber gives the bill?

When my mother-in-law’s health is threatened,

and I hear my husband holding back the tears?

When the car bumper is cracked?

When my neck and back begin to ache?

When no one takes the trash out?

When the bank account is drained?

When shame wants to reside within me?

When expectations hound me?

When the smallest one runs away from me—

                        down the street

                                    and around the corner?

Even in this?

Gratitude in ALL that IS?

God I don’t like what IS right now. Just saying.

Thank you for the grace to be real and not have it all figured out.

On the journey with you… lk

How do you embrace gratitude in all that is in your life? Here or somewhere…be real. Share your journey.

Yield

I open the window to allow the fresh air to blow through the house.

I find a seat on the couch and the First Boy plops down next to me. He clutches a pencil in his hand as my fingers fly over the computer keys. Shoulder to shoulder we write. He hums a tune as he works his spelling words into vowel patterns. I pause as I try to give voice to the heart of this post. He sets his pencil down to clap the rhythm of syllables. Deliberate and purposeful his hands come together to the beat of words.

Peace, piece, our, hour, cent, and scent—all words for life.

My spirit pauses to listen in…

He claps to the rhythm of   L I F E.

The open window becomes a passageway to my heart. I hear the leaves of the trees rustling even clapping in the wind…

Do I clap to the rhythm of life?

Or do I will for the tempo to change?

Now the Blonde Boy catches my attention. He sits on his knees sinking lower and lower into the floor. He leans into his art taped to the wall. Black marker in hand he pens his name in the lower right hand corner—

Writing identity across his creation.

Is that not what our Lord does? Write His name ever so carefully across our lives. Is He not intentional and even deliberate with the picture of our destiny?

The Blonde Boy covers the pen with its cap and wanders over to the open window. He watches in wonder as the curtain transforms into a sail. The wind fills the fabric with its breath. His blue eyes widen as the sail swells. Anticipation lights up his face. I know what he’s thinking—

How high will the sail fly?

How high indeed. How high or low will the Wind take us? I feel the coolness of the breeze fill the room—and I know—our sail will soon change direction.

Will I go where the Wind blows or will I resist with the weight of an anchor?

The bronze fabric balloons high and then whips wildly to the wind. I hear them again—the trees clapping to the rhythm. They know—I know—to trust in the Wind.

lk

Are you yielding to Holy Spirit to lead you? What direction is He taking you in?

Here or somewhere…be real.

Share your journey.

Reflective Scripture

⁵ Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
⁶ in all your ways submit to him,
and he will make your paths straight

Proverbs 3:5-6

Relevant Worship

Mighty Breath of God by Jesus Culture

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob5O2ZDQ9Ds