This road I travel. Week after week. Mile after mile.
The bridge that links our town to the next... Where our church exists, where our community is.
Yet the drive has become far more than my foot pushing the pedal and staying the line.
At the bend, not one, but two signs glare against the East Texas sky, marring the beauty of the ribbon that lays before me.
Simple. And so gut-wrenchingly complex.
XXX.
Two. As though one were not enough to contain enough darkness to soothe the soul that trucks by.
Realizing this would be the path I would take over and over, I have asked the Lord over and over to strike them down. To render them useless. To heal the brokenness that exists within the walls. To have beauty come from ashes.
One night... One is unlit. No lights within. The darkness had fully take it over, yet it was a victorious darkness. No more business, no more lostness except innocence.
The other, I still pass. Asking the Lord what I might do besides plead with him.
He answered, but unexpectedly so.
A man, hauling out the trash. Pressed slacks, ironed button up. The keeper.
Does he know Jesus? Has he ever heard the gospel? Oh, how beautiful the feet of those who bring good news!
And to bring the good news to him would take entering in. Lowering. To cross the threshold that so deeply divides my world from his. To literally put myself in the middle of black-hearted filth so that he might hear of a glorious light.
I wrestle with this. Could I? Should I? But if not I, who?
And the Lord whispers... Jesus.
To bring the glorious light, he left the heavenly for the dastardly.
Not only for me, but for him.
Jesus entered my world. Saw my hardened heart. Knew my wicked thoughts.
How can I not, knowing what all he has done for me?
Monday, January 13, 2014
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Food War
This is an untangling of sorts. A confession of thoughts from the past year that recently hit home.
Food as a struggle now when it never has been.
I know I’m in the minority with the things I’m about to say below, so raise your eyebrows and move on.
I’ve never struggled with weight, with counting calories, with loving/loathing food. I don’t own a scale and couldn’t tell you what my size is.
I have never had an eating disorder, never felt “guilty” for eating dessert and have never made a resolution to eat better.
I know – with all my “nevers” my pendulum is so far on the other side, my clock isn’t even working properly.
All that said, I’m coming to a place where food is becoming a source of contention; burdensome… Where I feel judged and where I don’t feel joy or enjoyment.
The cares and trials of this world, i.e. the trends, are hitting hard and I’m watching several close to me fall in line with what the world would tell them is good and right.
And it is draining the very joy out of what God tells me to do to his glory.
All too often, the conversations that surround me are about what non-bread tastes most like bread, how your kids shouldn’t have dairy or soy, how caffeine is killing us all and on and on I could go.
We add “free” onto the end of a word as though gluten-free and sugar-free has set this captive free. In reality, it’s only causing us to fall back into slavery.
Think about it. The more boundaries you build, the more fences you erect, the more lines you draw, the less space you have.
The less space there is to run free, to revel and frolic, the more your worship suffers.
Why?
Self-imposed rules never bring joy.
Why?
Because when we rely on culture and ourselves to tell us how to live our life best, we ignore the Creator, Sustainer and Life Giver who truly does know best and for freedom has set us free.
Hear me. Going back to the basics is grand.
Becoming not so reliant on stores can be a good thing.
Personally, I have high hopes of doing many things myself, right off my own land. (Nigerian goats and 10% butterfat anyone?!).
But, if my endeavors cause me to become prideful or judgmental or adopt a “my way is the best way and I can’t BELIEVE you don’t do it…” attitude, then I need to pause.
Reflect.
Realize the idols I have set in my heart and repent so that I might glorify God in all I do rather than myself.
Truth be told, here is where my assurance lies:
When I stand before the Lord, his concern is not whether I gave my kids organic strawberries or not; whether I drank coffee or not even whether I heated up my leftovers in the microwave or oven.
His concern will be for how I lived my life according to HIS will, doing HIS kingdom minded business here on earth.
So for me personally, that means choosing the non-organic strawberries so my financial resources can go further to someone literally dying for a piece of bread – gluten-free or not.
And for me personally, a cup of coffee, leftovers heated up in the microwave, or pizza picked up from the local Italian restaurant can be a form of worship for me, stirring my affections deeply for the Lord.
Those things can make me stop and just praise a God who is so amazingly good.
And that because of his goodness, despite my badness, had His one and only Son bear my sin and shame so that I might have eternity in heaven with Him.
So for encouragement for the weak hearted and the judgmental:
Spend some honest time with the Lord. Read through Romans 13 and 14 and lay your life over those verses.
Ask yourself some hard questions. What boundaries does the Lord give regarding eating? How are we to view other people and the choices they make eating? How do our choices in food and eating reflect the freedom we have if we are found in Christ?
For some of you, there might need to be some change. You might need to take away some things from your daily intake and some of you might need to add some things to your daily intake.
For me, I'll continue pushing back the world I feel so heavily weighing in.
I'll continue to give thanks to a Father who created all the smells and tastes and sights that accompany a good meal and seek him on what I may do best to make much of him - no matter if it is a store bought cupcake, frozen chicken nuggets or homemade enchiladas.
Whether it is this or that - keep in mind it is for his glory and your good. And his grace is unending.
Matthew 15:11 and 18
Hear and understand:
it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person,
but what comes out of the mouth...
what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart
and this defiles a person.
Realize the idols I have set in my heart and repent so that I might glorify God in all I do rather than myself.
Truth be told, here is where my assurance lies:
When I stand before the Lord, his concern is not whether I gave my kids organic strawberries or not; whether I drank coffee or not even whether I heated up my leftovers in the microwave or oven.
His concern will be for how I lived my life according to HIS will, doing HIS kingdom minded business here on earth.
So for me personally, that means choosing the non-organic strawberries so my financial resources can go further to someone literally dying for a piece of bread – gluten-free or not.
And for me personally, a cup of coffee, leftovers heated up in the microwave, or pizza picked up from the local Italian restaurant can be a form of worship for me, stirring my affections deeply for the Lord.
Those things can make me stop and just praise a God who is so amazingly good.
And that because of his goodness, despite my badness, had His one and only Son bear my sin and shame so that I might have eternity in heaven with Him.
So for encouragement for the weak hearted and the judgmental:
Spend some honest time with the Lord. Read through Romans 13 and 14 and lay your life over those verses.
Ask yourself some hard questions. What boundaries does the Lord give regarding eating? How are we to view other people and the choices they make eating? How do our choices in food and eating reflect the freedom we have if we are found in Christ?
For some of you, there might need to be some change. You might need to take away some things from your daily intake and some of you might need to add some things to your daily intake.
For me, I'll continue pushing back the world I feel so heavily weighing in.
I'll continue to give thanks to a Father who created all the smells and tastes and sights that accompany a good meal and seek him on what I may do best to make much of him - no matter if it is a store bought cupcake, frozen chicken nuggets or homemade enchiladas.
Whether it is this or that - keep in mind it is for his glory and your good. And his grace is unending.
Matthew 15:11 and 18
Hear and understand:
it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person,
but what comes out of the mouth...
what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart
and this defiles a person.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Atheism
Can I be honest?
As God-fearing as I am, as passionate as I am about Jesus Christ, I love reading articles written by atheists.
Why?
They scare me.
They scare me to think that they have valid points. That what they are writing makes sense. That I can understand why they came to the conclusion that God is pretend.
But for the grace of God, there go I.
It pushes me.
It pushes me to examine my beliefs. It pushes me to to not take what I'm taught at face value. It pushes me to pray harder that I would not fall away, that I would not be overtaken by the cares and trials of this world.
More than all those things, it pushes me to be honest with my kids.
To tell them to doubt. To tell them to question. To tell them to seek.
To tell them God is not offended or surprised by their questions.
And to remind them that when they have those moments of confusion, they will simply be loved.
It's not up to me to save my kids but I have been called to teach and to train them.
So I will give them truth as it is revealed to me. Truth that has stood for thousands of years as the trends of this world change minutely.
It's not a one-size-fits-all and God most certainly does not fit in a box.
So, as a challenge to the unbeliever, read the Bible. The Holy Bible. In it's entirety, in context and see if maybe, just maybe, the god you've read about in articles and heard opinions on is nowhere close to the God of the Bible.
And, as a challenge to the believer, read the Bible. The Holy Bible. In it's entirety, in context and ask the Lord to reveal more of Himself. Stop using it to puff yourself up and start using it as a tool to learn how to engage the disengaged. Jesus can teach you.
As God-fearing as I am, as passionate as I am about Jesus Christ, I love reading articles written by atheists.
Why?
They scare me.
They scare me to think that they have valid points. That what they are writing makes sense. That I can understand why they came to the conclusion that God is pretend.
But for the grace of God, there go I.
It pushes me.
It pushes me to examine my beliefs. It pushes me to to not take what I'm taught at face value. It pushes me to pray harder that I would not fall away, that I would not be overtaken by the cares and trials of this world.
More than all those things, it pushes me to be honest with my kids.
To tell them to doubt. To tell them to question. To tell them to seek.
To tell them God is not offended or surprised by their questions.
And to remind them that when they have those moments of confusion, they will simply be loved.
It's not up to me to save my kids but I have been called to teach and to train them.
So I will give them truth as it is revealed to me. Truth that has stood for thousands of years as the trends of this world change minutely.
It's not a one-size-fits-all and God most certainly does not fit in a box.
So, as a challenge to the unbeliever, read the Bible. The Holy Bible. In it's entirety, in context and see if maybe, just maybe, the god you've read about in articles and heard opinions on is nowhere close to the God of the Bible.
And, as a challenge to the believer, read the Bible. The Holy Bible. In it's entirety, in context and ask the Lord to reveal more of Himself. Stop using it to puff yourself up and start using it as a tool to learn how to engage the disengaged. Jesus can teach you.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Fear
Words have impact, even when they are little.
They especially have impact when an assumption is made or an expectation is in place.
The saying goes, when you assume, you make the first three letters of the word out of you and me.
And when expectations don't happen, there is a huge letdown.
But, what if your assumption and expectation was legitimate? What if you thought a + b = c?
Only then to find out, in this case, no, no it doesn't. And the pain hits like a sledgehammer.
And then that pain gives birth to a different type of pain which reminds you of the fear you've been suppressing which reminds you of the burden you're carrying which reminds you of the pain.
It's a cycle, a vicious one at that.
In the days that followed sending in the application for Jake's job, if I dwelt on it, really dwelt on the fact that if he was selected for the job, he would be gone, I felt as though the bottom of my world had fallen out.
I learned quickly to not even think on the next month or the next week or even the next day. Today was the day I was in and I would focus on that.
When I shared my feelings of despair with my sister in law, she so wisely stated, "Yes, this should be hard. The two of you are one. It is a separating of your union."
Yes, indeed, a tearing of sorts.
There are many times a day I have to remind myself to breathe. To stop, count ten seconds in and ten seconds out.
I will come home with the boys from being out and not realize I've been operating in high stress mode, near panic only to walk into what we know, what we've shared with Jake, and have comfort and peace wash over me.
As the boys started articulating their fears over bad things happening because their daddy is gone, I got to a place where I was frustrated and did not deal with them compassionately or gently.
Yes, their daddy is gone. Yes, it's for a long time. Yes, this is our reality right now, so can we move on please?
The Lord gently started revealing the anxiety I was walking in with my husband gone. He brought me to a place where I had to acknowledge that yes, I was scared. Yes, I didn't feel safe. Yes, my heart hurts.
And the boys needed to see it is ok. That they are not struggling alone and their fears are valid.
The other night, an expectation, a hope I had came crashing down.
An event, a very important one that is happening; an event that because of Jake's absence is going to be awkward, emotional and just plain difficult.
And now, because I made an assumption of certain roles and was kindly told "Nope" what would have been painful anyways has now been compounded with what feels like rejection.
Can I be honest? When those seven words popped up on my phone being preceded by a "try to make you feel better before I drop the bombshell", I felt dumbfounded and stupid.
The stupid that makes your heart hurt.
So, I've gone into protection mode. My protection mode is to retreat. To roll up into a ball.
I want to set my pride aside, I really do.
But in the midst of this pain, all the other pains that I have been dealing with superficially - going to church, prayer, loss of community, safety, leadership, large groups, having to tell someone my husband isn't here - have hit me like a ton of bricks.
Something so closely knit, the separation has been heavily felt.
They especially have impact when an assumption is made or an expectation is in place.
The saying goes, when you assume, you make the first three letters of the word out of you and me.
And when expectations don't happen, there is a huge letdown.
But, what if your assumption and expectation was legitimate? What if you thought a + b = c?
Only then to find out, in this case, no, no it doesn't. And the pain hits like a sledgehammer.
And then that pain gives birth to a different type of pain which reminds you of the fear you've been suppressing which reminds you of the burden you're carrying which reminds you of the pain.
It's a cycle, a vicious one at that.
In the days that followed sending in the application for Jake's job, if I dwelt on it, really dwelt on the fact that if he was selected for the job, he would be gone, I felt as though the bottom of my world had fallen out.
I learned quickly to not even think on the next month or the next week or even the next day. Today was the day I was in and I would focus on that.
When I shared my feelings of despair with my sister in law, she so wisely stated, "Yes, this should be hard. The two of you are one. It is a separating of your union."
Yes, indeed, a tearing of sorts.
There are many times a day I have to remind myself to breathe. To stop, count ten seconds in and ten seconds out.
I will come home with the boys from being out and not realize I've been operating in high stress mode, near panic only to walk into what we know, what we've shared with Jake, and have comfort and peace wash over me.
As the boys started articulating their fears over bad things happening because their daddy is gone, I got to a place where I was frustrated and did not deal with them compassionately or gently.
Yes, their daddy is gone. Yes, it's for a long time. Yes, this is our reality right now, so can we move on please?
The Lord gently started revealing the anxiety I was walking in with my husband gone. He brought me to a place where I had to acknowledge that yes, I was scared. Yes, I didn't feel safe. Yes, my heart hurts.
And the boys needed to see it is ok. That they are not struggling alone and their fears are valid.
The other night, an expectation, a hope I had came crashing down.
An event, a very important one that is happening; an event that because of Jake's absence is going to be awkward, emotional and just plain difficult.
And now, because I made an assumption of certain roles and was kindly told "Nope" what would have been painful anyways has now been compounded with what feels like rejection.
Can I be honest? When those seven words popped up on my phone being preceded by a "try to make you feel better before I drop the bombshell", I felt dumbfounded and stupid.
The stupid that makes your heart hurt.
So, I've gone into protection mode. My protection mode is to retreat. To roll up into a ball.
I want to set my pride aside, I really do.
But in the midst of this pain, all the other pains that I have been dealing with superficially - going to church, prayer, loss of community, safety, leadership, large groups, having to tell someone my husband isn't here - have hit me like a ton of bricks.
Something so closely knit, the separation has been heavily felt.
Lamentations 3:21-28
But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
"The Lord is my portion," says my soul,
"therefore I will hope in him."
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
When Obedience Doesn't Lead to Ease
We've been flying high these last six weeks. While there have certainly been moments of meltdowns, feeling overwhelmed, frustrations and confusion, I can honestly say the Lord has never been more near.
Friends have poured out their love - bringing meals, offering to watch the boys, sending me encouraging texts, praying for me and over me.
I hit a wall this last week. The exhaustion set in. The routine set in. The reality set in.
I came to a place where I started doubting. Doubting that this was from the Lord. Doubting that this is what we should be doing. Doubting that I could even do this for as long as the Lord has us walk in it.
Blessedly, because of events a few months ago, a beautiful woman was placed before me.
I met with her on Monday, bringing all my insecurities, all my tears, all my frustrations.
After sitting and listening to me, she took me to 2 Corinthians and began to read some of Paul's writings.
It was a reminder that I had lost my focus.
That I had been fooled into thinking our obedience to the Lord would mean this would be easy.
Not so. If you ever wonder about submission to Jesus making your life being a bed of roses, read any of Paul's writings.
This past week as everything hit the fan and the boys started the long awaited "acting out", I melted under what I couldn't handle.
Saturday morning found the tears that had hovered all week finally spilling over as I pleaded, pleaded with them to please work with me and not against me. I reminded them that we were a team and that all this strife and malice and disobedience was not from the Lord and it wouldn't gain us anything.
Sunday night, putting the boys to bed, I was absolutely overwhelmed at my weariness. I had nothing to offer them, no words inside me to pray. I felt empty and utterly alone in the dark and quiet.
Mired in panic attacks that would not stop, I started focusing on what lay before me.
I couldn't bear to think of the days and weeks and months that still lay ahead.
Truth, at its best, gives you encouragement.
Truth, at its worst, gives you hope.
So here was Paul... Writing of his floggings, beatings, persecutions, imprisonments. Telling of his shipwrecks, his loss of friends, his physical pain...
Yet, yet... his treasure in his jar of clay was so much more than what was right in front of him.
Here was a man that loved God deeply, was indeed obedient to the Lord's will, yet the enemy relentlessly pounded him and it was not easy.
Did that mean his faith was not enough or that his trust was in something faulty?
Not at all. Just the opposite.
The Lord knew Paul's strength because He was supplying it. He would uphold Paul with His righteous right hand. He would pick Paul up when he stumbled and fell. He would breathe life into Paul's weary heart.
I know, I know how much easier it would be if my kids obeyed me the first time, right away. I work on that, day in and day out for much more than me looking like super-mom (and trust me, I get sucked into that way too easily). I want them to know what it looks like to jump in with both feet into a fiery furnace if that is what the Lord calls them to.
As difficult as this is, I submit every dream and want before the Lord and pour into my boys each and every day. Right now, I trust God's glory to be known whether I have a good week or an awful week.
I will walk the path he has laid out for me, in faith, knowing His goodness will not fail me and that my treasure is far beyond what I see now. Even when this path is not simple.
Friends have poured out their love - bringing meals, offering to watch the boys, sending me encouraging texts, praying for me and over me.
I hit a wall this last week. The exhaustion set in. The routine set in. The reality set in.
I came to a place where I started doubting. Doubting that this was from the Lord. Doubting that this is what we should be doing. Doubting that I could even do this for as long as the Lord has us walk in it.
Blessedly, because of events a few months ago, a beautiful woman was placed before me.
I met with her on Monday, bringing all my insecurities, all my tears, all my frustrations.
After sitting and listening to me, she took me to 2 Corinthians and began to read some of Paul's writings.
It was a reminder that I had lost my focus.
That I had been fooled into thinking our obedience to the Lord would mean this would be easy.
Not so. If you ever wonder about submission to Jesus making your life being a bed of roses, read any of Paul's writings.
This past week as everything hit the fan and the boys started the long awaited "acting out", I melted under what I couldn't handle.
Saturday morning found the tears that had hovered all week finally spilling over as I pleaded, pleaded with them to please work with me and not against me. I reminded them that we were a team and that all this strife and malice and disobedience was not from the Lord and it wouldn't gain us anything.
Sunday night, putting the boys to bed, I was absolutely overwhelmed at my weariness. I had nothing to offer them, no words inside me to pray. I felt empty and utterly alone in the dark and quiet.
Mired in panic attacks that would not stop, I started focusing on what lay before me.
I couldn't bear to think of the days and weeks and months that still lay ahead.
Truth, at its best, gives you encouragement.
Truth, at its worst, gives you hope.
So here was Paul... Writing of his floggings, beatings, persecutions, imprisonments. Telling of his shipwrecks, his loss of friends, his physical pain...
Yet, yet... his treasure in his jar of clay was so much more than what was right in front of him.
Here was a man that loved God deeply, was indeed obedient to the Lord's will, yet the enemy relentlessly pounded him and it was not easy.
Did that mean his faith was not enough or that his trust was in something faulty?
Not at all. Just the opposite.
The Lord knew Paul's strength because He was supplying it. He would uphold Paul with His righteous right hand. He would pick Paul up when he stumbled and fell. He would breathe life into Paul's weary heart.
I know, I know how much easier it would be if my kids obeyed me the first time, right away. I work on that, day in and day out for much more than me looking like super-mom (and trust me, I get sucked into that way too easily). I want them to know what it looks like to jump in with both feet into a fiery furnace if that is what the Lord calls them to.
As difficult as this is, I submit every dream and want before the Lord and pour into my boys each and every day. Right now, I trust God's glory to be known whether I have a good week or an awful week.
I will walk the path he has laid out for me, in faith, knowing His goodness will not fail me and that my treasure is far beyond what I see now. Even when this path is not simple.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Bedtime Reminders
Bedtime is getting increasingly more frustrating.
Some nights it can be enjoyable; some nights I'm sitting there wondering "how long until they're asleep?"
Always, though, it's tinged with a joyful sorrow.
Joy because it's...
Bedtime.
Stillness.
Quietness.
Peace.
Sorrow because of what isn't there. Because of what is tangibly missing.
Because waking up in the morning means nothing has changed.
Bedtime was Jake's time with the boys.
We would all read together and then I would get to leave to have him at do the actual "to-bed" madness.
Now though? It's me, it's them and it's tears.
Heartbreakingly, the two year old cries himself to sleep by calling, "Daddy, my daddy."
Over and over and over.
The older ones, in their sleep induced vulnerability ask, "Why?"
Why does he have to be gone?
Why can't he come home?
It's become a sweet time of sweet reminders.
I am not alone in this.
I can cry out to my Heavenly Father because some days, most days... the patience and compassion wears thin.
I ask him to pour out his mercy and grace on me so I might overflow it to my boys.
Jake leaving has left a big hole in all our hearts. If ever there was a man that shows the love of Christ tangibly, it's him.
So for the boys not to have that physical touch, that presence... leaves them empty.
While it can be trying to hear the sadness and confusion, I'm also extremely grateful they miss their daddy so much.
I'm begging the Lord to knit our hearts closer than ever before even though we're farther than ever before.
And, it's possible. With God, everything and anything is and I have no doubt that this year will be the best thing that has ever happened to us.
But...
If I let them grieve and soak in sadness without ever giving them hope, I've failed.
If I have set them up in life to where Jake is enough for them or I'm enough for them, I've robbed them of the single greatest joy any life can have.
So while we cry daily and I tell them it's ok to be upset and sad and even angry, I point them to Jesus.
If they have an earthly daddy who loves them this much, how much more does their perfectly good Father adore them and delight in them? I want them to be firmly rooted in the one who never leaves us or forsakes us.
I want them to know that through this trial, we have joy because we have Jesus! No matter the outcome, we all ready have the best thing possible.
And that is something to take joy in no matter the pain that comes.
Some nights it can be enjoyable; some nights I'm sitting there wondering "how long until they're asleep?"
Always, though, it's tinged with a joyful sorrow.
Joy because it's...
Bedtime.
Stillness.
Quietness.
Peace.
Sorrow because of what isn't there. Because of what is tangibly missing.
Because waking up in the morning means nothing has changed.
Bedtime was Jake's time with the boys.
We would all read together and then I would get to leave to have him at do the actual "to-bed" madness.
Now though? It's me, it's them and it's tears.
Heartbreakingly, the two year old cries himself to sleep by calling, "Daddy, my daddy."
Over and over and over.
The older ones, in their sleep induced vulnerability ask, "Why?"
Why does he have to be gone?
Why can't he come home?
It's become a sweet time of sweet reminders.
I am not alone in this.
I can cry out to my Heavenly Father because some days, most days... the patience and compassion wears thin.
I ask him to pour out his mercy and grace on me so I might overflow it to my boys.
Jake leaving has left a big hole in all our hearts. If ever there was a man that shows the love of Christ tangibly, it's him.
So for the boys not to have that physical touch, that presence... leaves them empty.
While it can be trying to hear the sadness and confusion, I'm also extremely grateful they miss their daddy so much.
I'm begging the Lord to knit our hearts closer than ever before even though we're farther than ever before.
And, it's possible. With God, everything and anything is and I have no doubt that this year will be the best thing that has ever happened to us.
But...
If I let them grieve and soak in sadness without ever giving them hope, I've failed.
If I have set them up in life to where Jake is enough for them or I'm enough for them, I've robbed them of the single greatest joy any life can have.
So while we cry daily and I tell them it's ok to be upset and sad and even angry, I point them to Jesus.
If they have an earthly daddy who loves them this much, how much more does their perfectly good Father adore them and delight in them? I want them to be firmly rooted in the one who never leaves us or forsakes us.
I want them to know that through this trial, we have joy because we have Jesus! No matter the outcome, we all ready have the best thing possible.
And that is something to take joy in no matter the pain that comes.
Friday, November 30, 2012
His Perfect Timing
One of the things I've struggled with in this new season is anxiety. Fear about tomorrow. Worrying about being enough, providing enough, being able to do enough by myself.
Jesus's words in Matthew bring me much comfort. "Do not be anxious... Your Heavenly Father knows you need all these things..."
I've rested in those words, prayed over those passages and recited them to the boys too many times to count.
Today was a perfect example of the Lord providing.
It was time to have a garage sale. I now realize garage sales need to be much more than just me making money. I want to bless the person that walks up. I want to help them, strike up a conversation if they are open to one, get to know them on a simple level.
My sweet neighbors (and may I say, the immediate neighbors around us are invalid and elderly yet have constantly told me to knock on their door if I need something) brought some things over for our garage sale.
They were decluttering, I was setting up - perfection!
While I'm holding the sale, my neighbor strikes up a conversation with a random man who pulls up on his motorcycle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ron turn and point to me but don't think much of it.
The man drives away.
Fifteen minutes later, he pull back up and asks me if I have a moment.
I walk up to him and he hands me a gift card to Kroger.
He tells me he knows what it's like to have a difficult time and he wanted to gift me so I could take care of my babies.
Blessed beyond belief, more so that the Lord has shown over and over how he works through perfect strangers.
As this day approached to have the garage sale, I asked God that he would give just what we needed. It was necessary as there was a mix-up on our insurance and we ended up owing for the entire month of November - and since we didn't know we were covered, we have been paying for everything out of pocket.
Which - if you hold private insurance, it ain't cheap. More so when your husband will be going to a "war zone" and has to have coverage over there.
All that to say, I trusted the Lord to perfectly provide what we would need since we would be stretching the dollars until next payday.
Suffice to say, he did. In very unexpected ways. Above and beyond.
This living by faith might not be easiest, but I've found it's best. It's when you see Him show up.
It's the moment when you realize, He knows.
He always has.
Jesus's words in Matthew bring me much comfort. "Do not be anxious... Your Heavenly Father knows you need all these things..."
I've rested in those words, prayed over those passages and recited them to the boys too many times to count.
Today was a perfect example of the Lord providing.
It was time to have a garage sale. I now realize garage sales need to be much more than just me making money. I want to bless the person that walks up. I want to help them, strike up a conversation if they are open to one, get to know them on a simple level.
My sweet neighbors (and may I say, the immediate neighbors around us are invalid and elderly yet have constantly told me to knock on their door if I need something) brought some things over for our garage sale.
They were decluttering, I was setting up - perfection!
While I'm holding the sale, my neighbor strikes up a conversation with a random man who pulls up on his motorcycle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ron turn and point to me but don't think much of it.
The man drives away.
Fifteen minutes later, he pull back up and asks me if I have a moment.
I walk up to him and he hands me a gift card to Kroger.
He tells me he knows what it's like to have a difficult time and he wanted to gift me so I could take care of my babies.
Blessed beyond belief, more so that the Lord has shown over and over how he works through perfect strangers.
As this day approached to have the garage sale, I asked God that he would give just what we needed. It was necessary as there was a mix-up on our insurance and we ended up owing for the entire month of November - and since we didn't know we were covered, we have been paying for everything out of pocket.
Which - if you hold private insurance, it ain't cheap. More so when your husband will be going to a "war zone" and has to have coverage over there.
All that to say, I trusted the Lord to perfectly provide what we would need since we would be stretching the dollars until next payday.
Suffice to say, he did. In very unexpected ways. Above and beyond.
This living by faith might not be easiest, but I've found it's best. It's when you see Him show up.
It's the moment when you realize, He knows.
He always has.
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