The title of this post comes from Ann Voskamp's blog today . I cried ugly tears. Because she admits it's hard, and it's holy. The moments, the minutes, the hours, the long nights, the long days, the short years. She says "Every day that you do the hard things that you don’t want to do — you’re building the family you always wanted to have. "
We had family lifestyle photos taken in April, my precious friend Nadalie came and captured simple moments, waking kiddos up from naps, the brave 5 year-old leaping from the furniture like he's been warned of many times, "twuwirling", dancing with the then almost 3 year-old. And my words to Nadalie upon being heartstruck over the images she edited were this: "It was if you'd captured all the moments that I hoped life would be. These (photos) are such a reminder that life has become everything I dreamed." You can view all those amazing images here: http://nadaliejean.weebly.com/blogity/dream-catcher
This all will come out disjointed, and rather quickly, because it's actually a chilly June evening out, after 9pm, but I'm sitting on the steps typing because I love chilly summer evenings, the kiddos were exhausted and tucked into beds over an hour ago after a busy day. A day of simple life. I'm trying to be more diligent in my mornings, to be purposeful, to set goals for myself and my time with my family, with God. To grasp these fleeting moments. "Little things", like doing the dishes every evening (no dishwasher!) so that mornings aren't greeted with discouragement of jobs left undone. Trying to have the coffee ready to brew so the morning looks a bit less bleak. Because I don't want to cringe when I hear the little feet hit the floor above my tired head. I want to rise ready to hug those early morning smiles and bare toes. Tired hugs, but ready hugs. Because God has gifted little glimpses, a little boy who had a bad dream, that was addressed in church to his heart directly, how Jesus wouldn't leave him, so we spent Sunday evening reading how our Jesus calmed the storms, how He tells us to not fear, talking of how Jesus is our stronghold. My boy picked the word "stronghold" out of Psalm 27:1.
"What's a stronghold Mom?"
It's a refuge dear Levi, a safe place NO MATTER WHAT. Should we say refuge Levi, or stronghold?
"Stronghold Mom, because Jesus is strong."
That He is my dear precious loaned gift from God. He's our stronghold, NO MATTER WHAT.
How I pray I can be a stronghold for my loaned babies. That NO MATTER WHAT ugly or terrible they bring, no matter their sin, their choices, that I will be a refuge to point them to Jesus.
The conversation turned to always choosing Jesus. I pray the day doesn't come, but I found myself telling my 3 & 5 year-old if anyone ever asked them to choose between life and Jesus, to choose Jesus.
"Jesus is ALWAYS the best choice babies."
Now, if only I can live that.
There are many days, even in the past week, when I feel achy, lonely. When I say hi to a friend in passing and she doesn't hear me, when I see two friends enjoying each other, when I only see my husband in passing, when my days are spent disciplining fights and ugly attitudes of a child, when the dishes are still there every night, waiting for me to keep my goal and new habit. When I read of caffeine holding my weight loss back, but can't imagine my morning without my coffee. Those empty moments when I have no answers, when I wonder who I am.
I'm approaching 30 years-old in less than 6 weeks, and all I wonder about selfishly is if anyone will care? Will I mark another year having blessed the hearts of others, have touched a life, have made a difference? Will my $10 measly given make a difference in another land? Will my fervently whispered prayers for a friend's hurting heart matter? Will I love without holding back? Will I have been a glory to God? Will my husband say he's blessed? Will my children feel loved? Will they know God's gracious love because Momma showed it?
I don't know.
I fail, I stumble, I get self-consumed. But I pray that these moments, these fleeting borrowed moments of time from Jesus with my little ones, who are so quickly becoming not so little, I pray they will show, NO MATTER WHAT, that Jesus is ALWAYS the best choice.
Because without that, I have no hope, no breath of life.
I cannot explain the aching of my heart that just begs God, for everyone I've known in these almost 30 years, to know Jesus, to want Him more because of something He's done in me. That's how I can serve this minute. There is no better. The seeming inconsequential is of consequence. It has to be, the little turns to Holy I pray.
Monday, June 15, 2015
Sunday, March 29, 2015
The Reality of Age and Calling
If you were to ask me, I would use the phrase "I've never really been an athlete." to describe myself. But that would be so inaccurate. A more accurate sentence would be "I didn't play a bunch of childhood sports." It's interesting to me how we as a culture/society use our childhood years to define who we are and what we are capable of. You want to be a professional athlete? Better start playing hockey at age 3 because time far outweighs talent and determination. Can you sense the sarcasm here?
It always amazes me how much our childhood dictates so much of how we view ourselves. In more areas than sports. How the years when we're learning and growing and so immature and have NO clue what life is about, how those years shape our entire beings. And yes, they don't have to define us. I think so often we look at our parents to define us, and rightly they do, they give us life, vision, a sense of what the world is. And they fail. They are sinners and will make mistakes. But as a Momma myself now, I see how much bigger their lives were than I realized. We are all inherently selfish and self-focused as children, as adults even. We don't see the waves of life and the things that affect how our parents are, well parents. I think of the little one suffering a life of abuse, the little boy without a Daddy to guide him, the hurts and disappointments. Their stories are forever ingrained with the consequences of things their parents did or did not do. But yet, that isn't the full story. There are those who will never seek or find redemption, will never move beyond their childhood years in their maturity.
BUT, there are those who Jesus literally plucks out and saves, so dramatically, by His grace. And that is all of us who have accepted His forgiveness. No matter our story, it's all dramatic. It's all a BIG story of redemption, because it's BIG grace.
There's a lot of commas and conjunctions in this post, because sometimes, those little words like if, and, but, or, because, they have huge jobs and explanations.
Why this reflection on our childhoods? Not because I'm a psychologist looking to delve into fixing our childhoods or moving past them or even introspecting on them. I do enough of that on my own and in my over-analytical mind. Rather, I'm looking to consider how little they may need to define us.
I turn 30 this July, 2015. To some of you, that will be so young, to some of you, you're in the same year with me, to others, I'm a little ahead of you on this road. Doesn't matter how you view 30, this is my year to consider it.
Maybe because my husband is 6 years older than I am, but 30 sort of seemed like "Oh okay, whatever" because he hit it awhile ago. But I had yet to hit 25 when he turned 30, so really I didn't give it it's due. And yes, it's just a number. Yet to me, this year, it's a big number. It's significant. So that has led to the introspection.
I said earlier that in our childhoods we have no idea what life is really all about, but do we really ever? As a Christian I firmly believe all of life is about God and His glory. But then there are so many areas that that must be applied to it gets muddled. I can say that phrase, then how does that apply to making my morning coffee? To raising my kids? To doing the laundry? How can I in full seriousness answer the question "How is cleaning my bathroom and making dinner fulfilling the calling to give God glory and fulfilling His call on my life?" How can I answer that if I can barely give an answer to what God's calling on my life is?
In my previous post I expressed one sentence of lament about how I didn't have a bachelor's degree. Interestingly enough that was the sentence that got the most attention on Facebook comments about the post. I've thought about why that was, and the best explanation I can process is that what I thought was just a random small lament addresses a feeling so many of us have internally. A feeling of wondering, of regret, of "what if?", of seeking to define ourselves, to find answers, to possible alternatives, to fulfillment. Whether or not this plays back to looking at our teenage years, our young adult years to set the course for our life, I'm not sure. But I do often wonder at the immense pressure placed on those years, those choices, whether it's right. Yet I also don't believe delaying adulthood and responsibility is the answer. Rather, I'd like to think that heavy decisions can be made in those years, but without the enormous pressure of "Get it right the first time or you'll regret it." sort of mindsets.
We as Christians can fall into this trap. If I heard "What's God's calling?" "What's the mission God is calling you to?" "What does God want you to do with your life?" once, I heard it a million times growing up. Apparently we should spend our entire youth in agony over figuring out what God wants for our entire existence, when we can barely figure out what we should wear that day. We are expected to hear and know God's voice when we haven't been properly taught to know and serve God so we can distinguish His truth. I am NOT advocating that these questions shouldn't be asked, but I am perhaps suggesting that we have not done a good enough job of praying and helping our children to just KNOW GOD first. I am blessed, I had many people, my parents included, who urged and taught me to know and seek God. And yet, I know and find it's a lifelong process. And the more I learn and know God, the more I realize who He made me to be, but I'm still trying to figure out the details. And only then do I even begin to feel like I can answer some hard questions. Ironic considering now I have 3 little people looking to me to help raise them and define them.
I'm turning 30 this year, and I'm just now learning and understanding a little more of myself. Of how my lack of athletic experience as a kid doesn't define who I am today. Because I've spent most of my adult life being active, but yet somehow that doesn't outweigh not playing little league as an 8 year old in my mind. Ridiculousness. And if I can say that's ridiculous, then how much more is it true that God can redefine my emotional and spiritual life as an adult? I can honestly say if I had chosen a bachelor's degree to pursue I may not be using it. I have 4+ years of college credits, they're just sort of random and all over. So also is my knowledge and walk with God at times.
I desperately want to seek to quit measuring myself against "standards", and instead desperately seek the truth God gives in Micah 6:
6 “With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
7 Will the Lord be pleased with[a] thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
8 He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,[b]
and to walk humbly with your God?
I think I've allowed myself to so be defined by life choices, by feelings of insignificance, by confusion about who I am and what I like, that I've never actually truthfully sought correct answers. The heart of who I am is a daughter of the King of Kings, saved by the Grace and blood of Jesus. In eternity that will be the biggie. But also, God did not place me on this earth without gifts/skills/passions to be used and enjoyed. I'm on a mission, as I turn 30, to seek, realize, and grow them. To grow up a bit more, to find joy in who I have been made to be. What that's going to look like, I'm not sure. But I do think it means I'll be running a bit more this Spring...
It always amazes me how much our childhood dictates so much of how we view ourselves. In more areas than sports. How the years when we're learning and growing and so immature and have NO clue what life is about, how those years shape our entire beings. And yes, they don't have to define us. I think so often we look at our parents to define us, and rightly they do, they give us life, vision, a sense of what the world is. And they fail. They are sinners and will make mistakes. But as a Momma myself now, I see how much bigger their lives were than I realized. We are all inherently selfish and self-focused as children, as adults even. We don't see the waves of life and the things that affect how our parents are, well parents. I think of the little one suffering a life of abuse, the little boy without a Daddy to guide him, the hurts and disappointments. Their stories are forever ingrained with the consequences of things their parents did or did not do. But yet, that isn't the full story. There are those who will never seek or find redemption, will never move beyond their childhood years in their maturity.
BUT, there are those who Jesus literally plucks out and saves, so dramatically, by His grace. And that is all of us who have accepted His forgiveness. No matter our story, it's all dramatic. It's all a BIG story of redemption, because it's BIG grace.
There's a lot of commas and conjunctions in this post, because sometimes, those little words like if, and, but, or, because, they have huge jobs and explanations.
Why this reflection on our childhoods? Not because I'm a psychologist looking to delve into fixing our childhoods or moving past them or even introspecting on them. I do enough of that on my own and in my over-analytical mind. Rather, I'm looking to consider how little they may need to define us.
I turn 30 this July, 2015. To some of you, that will be so young, to some of you, you're in the same year with me, to others, I'm a little ahead of you on this road. Doesn't matter how you view 30, this is my year to consider it.
Maybe because my husband is 6 years older than I am, but 30 sort of seemed like "Oh okay, whatever" because he hit it awhile ago. But I had yet to hit 25 when he turned 30, so really I didn't give it it's due. And yes, it's just a number. Yet to me, this year, it's a big number. It's significant. So that has led to the introspection.
I said earlier that in our childhoods we have no idea what life is really all about, but do we really ever? As a Christian I firmly believe all of life is about God and His glory. But then there are so many areas that that must be applied to it gets muddled. I can say that phrase, then how does that apply to making my morning coffee? To raising my kids? To doing the laundry? How can I in full seriousness answer the question "How is cleaning my bathroom and making dinner fulfilling the calling to give God glory and fulfilling His call on my life?" How can I answer that if I can barely give an answer to what God's calling on my life is?
In my previous post I expressed one sentence of lament about how I didn't have a bachelor's degree. Interestingly enough that was the sentence that got the most attention on Facebook comments about the post. I've thought about why that was, and the best explanation I can process is that what I thought was just a random small lament addresses a feeling so many of us have internally. A feeling of wondering, of regret, of "what if?", of seeking to define ourselves, to find answers, to possible alternatives, to fulfillment. Whether or not this plays back to looking at our teenage years, our young adult years to set the course for our life, I'm not sure. But I do often wonder at the immense pressure placed on those years, those choices, whether it's right. Yet I also don't believe delaying adulthood and responsibility is the answer. Rather, I'd like to think that heavy decisions can be made in those years, but without the enormous pressure of "Get it right the first time or you'll regret it." sort of mindsets.
We as Christians can fall into this trap. If I heard "What's God's calling?" "What's the mission God is calling you to?" "What does God want you to do with your life?" once, I heard it a million times growing up. Apparently we should spend our entire youth in agony over figuring out what God wants for our entire existence, when we can barely figure out what we should wear that day. We are expected to hear and know God's voice when we haven't been properly taught to know and serve God so we can distinguish His truth. I am NOT advocating that these questions shouldn't be asked, but I am perhaps suggesting that we have not done a good enough job of praying and helping our children to just KNOW GOD first. I am blessed, I had many people, my parents included, who urged and taught me to know and seek God. And yet, I know and find it's a lifelong process. And the more I learn and know God, the more I realize who He made me to be, but I'm still trying to figure out the details. And only then do I even begin to feel like I can answer some hard questions. Ironic considering now I have 3 little people looking to me to help raise them and define them.
I'm turning 30 this year, and I'm just now learning and understanding a little more of myself. Of how my lack of athletic experience as a kid doesn't define who I am today. Because I've spent most of my adult life being active, but yet somehow that doesn't outweigh not playing little league as an 8 year old in my mind. Ridiculousness. And if I can say that's ridiculous, then how much more is it true that God can redefine my emotional and spiritual life as an adult? I can honestly say if I had chosen a bachelor's degree to pursue I may not be using it. I have 4+ years of college credits, they're just sort of random and all over. So also is my knowledge and walk with God at times.
I desperately want to seek to quit measuring myself against "standards", and instead desperately seek the truth God gives in Micah 6:
6 “With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
7 Will the Lord be pleased with[a] thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
8 He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,[b]
and to walk humbly with your God?
I think I've allowed myself to so be defined by life choices, by feelings of insignificance, by confusion about who I am and what I like, that I've never actually truthfully sought correct answers. The heart of who I am is a daughter of the King of Kings, saved by the Grace and blood of Jesus. In eternity that will be the biggie. But also, God did not place me on this earth without gifts/skills/passions to be used and enjoyed. I'm on a mission, as I turn 30, to seek, realize, and grow them. To grow up a bit more, to find joy in who I have been made to be. What that's going to look like, I'm not sure. But I do think it means I'll be running a bit more this Spring...
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Just Be Real
I've been sitting here for a good 5 minutes trying to find another word other than "So," to start my blog with. Nada. Nothing.
So. :)
It was time for a blog change. The old baby hadn't gotten much attention since the REAL baby #3 entered our lives. If any attention at all. Somehow the whole "having a 3rd baby, buying a house, trying to just shower daily" stuff became pretty important. Now it's a year+ and I've learned to just go shower and let the children mutiny, that any "new" house is going to have regrets, and that the 3rd baby is my honey bunny who shall forever be covered in smooshy kisses.
And God, well, He's moving in my heart and life and challenging me with REAL life. Hence the blog change and title. I've been craving, aching to write for months now, and putting it off. Feeling pressure for this first blog post to just be amazing, to draw readers in, to show God's grace in huge ways. Which is very self-defeatist of the whole "Be REAL" thing. Duh Beth.
So here I am, aching, craving, striving to just be real. Why? Because I'm done with facades and social media "show your best stuff". Granted, I still post cute pictures and videos of my kids and sweaty gross running photos of my miles, but I also want to post pictures like this:
Where the rings of microwaved coffee on my cup indicate how long it took to drink on a crazy day where the laundry is still waiting to be folded because, well, laundry never ends with 5 people in a home. Sometimes I feel as though even in our picture perfect social media society we compete to be "more real". Like not only do you get a prize for and a "like" for your cute perfect kids photos, but you get the most comments and likes for the "I'm losing it and a horrible Mom" statuses too. That's not what this blog is about. It's about mistakes, triumphs, truth, GRACE.
My 3rd "baby" Joel is almost 14 months old. This kid has got his own timetable for everything. When I went into labor with him, it was on his terms, which also included passing out and an ambulance ride. He was ready and he wasn't fooling around. But he's also the most relaxed and unrushed kid. Maybe it's being the 3rd, he has to be patient. But he didn't roll over very quickly, he was in no rush to eat "big food", he didn't crawl until almost 10 months, and he's still not walking. He crawls and lightening speed and pulls up and says "So big!" with his arms, but you try to get him to take a step unassisted and he immediately sits down and looks at you like "*Psh* yeah right".
So he's discovered the garbage containers in the kitchen. He's fascinated by the lids and it took him 2.3 seconds to master them. If you come into my kitchen on any certain days where I've just given up the fight, you'll find the garbage can on the counter out of reach. Yes, he has to learn, but yes, I have to eat and breath and clean sometimes. All this to say, Joel has yet to figure out the garbage is "yucky", and what is and is not appropriate to throw away. I wear a pair of purple crocs shoes around the house sometimes, especially post run to help my calves out a bit. The other day I could only find one so I put it on and went in search of the other. Couldn't find it until I went to throw something away.
There it was, my missing shoe, and some of the recycling transferred to the garbage. The kid will throw away anything, his toys, the fridge magnets, my shoes. Joel has not matured in his understanding to know that we consider trash to be reprehensible. That it's not to be touched or messed with unless necessary. That things, his things, my things, have value. That if he puts them in the trash they could be gone forever. Now, he has a Momma and Daddy who love him and are trying to teach him these concepts, as well as to just obey when we say "No", but he's also a sinner, born in his own stubbornness and repeatedly goes back to the garbage and throws away things of value.
And there's the comparison. How often do I throw things of value away? Not literally in the trash, but emotionally, spiritually, mentally? I see a Facebook friend's photo that makes me feel "less than", so I ignore it or scroll by as soon as possible. I get hurt by a friend's words so I stop calling them or pursuing their friendship. I squander my time in trivial things like my phone or a good book or even cleaning, instead of actually looking my children in the eye and listening. I take the cross of Christ, the season of Lent and Easter than we are in for granted. I have a husband and family and friends who dearly love me, but I feel undeserving and disbelieving so I refuse to let it bury it's roots in my soul and heart. I read my Bible of God who LOVES me so much He died for me, and yet I live in legalism and try to make myself "good enough" to receive that gift. I ignore the LOVE and see the duty. I see the failings of my own blackened sinful heart and don't receive the beauty of others who see it and love me anyway. I live in "Mommy guilt" and miss the joys. I hear the 40 minutes of constant back and forth between my children so I throw away the 5 minutes of giggles because they aren't worth it. I'm praying, desperate to stop throwing the things of value away.
That means Realness. Life. Me. Lived out before you in desperation that I can for once in my life put away my fear of rejection and fear of being vulnerable long enough to be loved, to love, to give grace. To be the friend who won't set the rules, but give the grace. Real. Because without Grace and Truth, I'm nothing.
My heart's song the past few months has been a woeful melody by Tenth Avenue North, "Worn". I wake tired, short nights, wakeful children, worn out mattress, days that feel purposeless and long. Selfishness, self-pity. Wondering what my purpose is. Knowing what it should be, but my heart doesn't hear it. Wondering when it will feel "good" to be a Momma. Hearing the lies of the enemy, how I'm lacking, failing. How my lack of a bachelor's degree leaves me stuck. How I'm not really succeeding at anything. But there is Truth, and Grace. Redemption will win. The days when my prayers feel thin, when I whisper them desperately before I even open my eyes, when I beg God to just let me pour a little bit of love into these little people who need me and Jesus, those are the days, when my purpose is beyond me. When the Grace wins. When Real is what is true.
So. :)
It was time for a blog change. The old baby hadn't gotten much attention since the REAL baby #3 entered our lives. If any attention at all. Somehow the whole "having a 3rd baby, buying a house, trying to just shower daily" stuff became pretty important. Now it's a year+ and I've learned to just go shower and let the children mutiny, that any "new" house is going to have regrets, and that the 3rd baby is my honey bunny who shall forever be covered in smooshy kisses.
And God, well, He's moving in my heart and life and challenging me with REAL life. Hence the blog change and title. I've been craving, aching to write for months now, and putting it off. Feeling pressure for this first blog post to just be amazing, to draw readers in, to show God's grace in huge ways. Which is very self-defeatist of the whole "Be REAL" thing. Duh Beth.
So here I am, aching, craving, striving to just be real. Why? Because I'm done with facades and social media "show your best stuff". Granted, I still post cute pictures and videos of my kids and sweaty gross running photos of my miles, but I also want to post pictures like this:
Where the rings of microwaved coffee on my cup indicate how long it took to drink on a crazy day where the laundry is still waiting to be folded because, well, laundry never ends with 5 people in a home. Sometimes I feel as though even in our picture perfect social media society we compete to be "more real". Like not only do you get a prize for and a "like" for your cute perfect kids photos, but you get the most comments and likes for the "I'm losing it and a horrible Mom" statuses too. That's not what this blog is about. It's about mistakes, triumphs, truth, GRACE.
My 3rd "baby" Joel is almost 14 months old. This kid has got his own timetable for everything. When I went into labor with him, it was on his terms, which also included passing out and an ambulance ride. He was ready and he wasn't fooling around. But he's also the most relaxed and unrushed kid. Maybe it's being the 3rd, he has to be patient. But he didn't roll over very quickly, he was in no rush to eat "big food", he didn't crawl until almost 10 months, and he's still not walking. He crawls and lightening speed and pulls up and says "So big!" with his arms, but you try to get him to take a step unassisted and he immediately sits down and looks at you like "*Psh* yeah right".
So he's discovered the garbage containers in the kitchen. He's fascinated by the lids and it took him 2.3 seconds to master them. If you come into my kitchen on any certain days where I've just given up the fight, you'll find the garbage can on the counter out of reach. Yes, he has to learn, but yes, I have to eat and breath and clean sometimes. All this to say, Joel has yet to figure out the garbage is "yucky", and what is and is not appropriate to throw away. I wear a pair of purple crocs shoes around the house sometimes, especially post run to help my calves out a bit. The other day I could only find one so I put it on and went in search of the other. Couldn't find it until I went to throw something away.
There it was, my missing shoe, and some of the recycling transferred to the garbage. The kid will throw away anything, his toys, the fridge magnets, my shoes. Joel has not matured in his understanding to know that we consider trash to be reprehensible. That it's not to be touched or messed with unless necessary. That things, his things, my things, have value. That if he puts them in the trash they could be gone forever. Now, he has a Momma and Daddy who love him and are trying to teach him these concepts, as well as to just obey when we say "No", but he's also a sinner, born in his own stubbornness and repeatedly goes back to the garbage and throws away things of value.
And there's the comparison. How often do I throw things of value away? Not literally in the trash, but emotionally, spiritually, mentally? I see a Facebook friend's photo that makes me feel "less than", so I ignore it or scroll by as soon as possible. I get hurt by a friend's words so I stop calling them or pursuing their friendship. I squander my time in trivial things like my phone or a good book or even cleaning, instead of actually looking my children in the eye and listening. I take the cross of Christ, the season of Lent and Easter than we are in for granted. I have a husband and family and friends who dearly love me, but I feel undeserving and disbelieving so I refuse to let it bury it's roots in my soul and heart. I read my Bible of God who LOVES me so much He died for me, and yet I live in legalism and try to make myself "good enough" to receive that gift. I ignore the LOVE and see the duty. I see the failings of my own blackened sinful heart and don't receive the beauty of others who see it and love me anyway. I live in "Mommy guilt" and miss the joys. I hear the 40 minutes of constant back and forth between my children so I throw away the 5 minutes of giggles because they aren't worth it. I'm praying, desperate to stop throwing the things of value away.
That means Realness. Life. Me. Lived out before you in desperation that I can for once in my life put away my fear of rejection and fear of being vulnerable long enough to be loved, to love, to give grace. To be the friend who won't set the rules, but give the grace. Real. Because without Grace and Truth, I'm nothing.
My heart's song the past few months has been a woeful melody by Tenth Avenue North, "Worn". I wake tired, short nights, wakeful children, worn out mattress, days that feel purposeless and long. Selfishness, self-pity. Wondering what my purpose is. Knowing what it should be, but my heart doesn't hear it. Wondering when it will feel "good" to be a Momma. Hearing the lies of the enemy, how I'm lacking, failing. How my lack of a bachelor's degree leaves me stuck. How I'm not really succeeding at anything. But there is Truth, and Grace. Redemption will win. The days when my prayers feel thin, when I whisper them desperately before I even open my eyes, when I beg God to just let me pour a little bit of love into these little people who need me and Jesus, those are the days, when my purpose is beyond me. When the Grace wins. When Real is what is true.
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