Thursday, October 30, 2014

On Why It's Ok To Not Instagram Every Moment (post Allume)

In awe of Greenville, SC. Not ready to leave yet. #soby's @abreitmann #allume #Divine

It's this crazy world we live in, longing for our place. And there are days we gather around one another and we hope they will like us, that we won't disappoint. So we stand awkwardly in our boots or cute clothes, and we scan groups of small huddles and wonder, is there room?

But our feet burn under an ache from shifting our weight side to side, so we move. We stumble toward tables and seats and faces. And we know to push past the silly voices in our head. Because we are here with intention.

Then we pass her or him, acknowledge one another, until we are communing over sweet tea and between keynotes. Our sore muscles relax into the chair. And when it's done there are plans for pj's and sacred communion in the hidden away places. Because God is doing a work and we didn't know until now. So we listen, we share, and we climb into the guts of another someone's story. And we are not thinking of iphones, or Instagram, or capturing this sacredness. We are just cherishing these things in our heart, much like Mary, Jesus' mother, did.

But when it's gone, we want markers. Oh how we want a way to memorialize something from it. Yet, we were too invested to take a chance of losing ground, so we stayed. in. the. moment, instead.

It's a week later and the once shiny polish is now chipped into scraggly patches on my fingernails. A wrinkled pile of suitcases with tags from Comfort Inns, or American Airlines, or such travels, now carry limp clothes home.

This is the aftermath. When we are left with words from God moments stirring the stuffing inside, we come now and turn for rest into the valley of everyday living. With these people we call home, because they make any of this possible.

But God goes too, carried like a Himalayan buried in us. And we walk under the shadows of His peaks.


I’m sitting at the airport in Atlanta, four days post Allume. Cross-legged on the floor is a man in a suit talking about clients and CEO’s on his phone, as I type. So much has happened since I first landed at the Hyatt hotel. Many chapters of my life are being written in my heart from folded hours of hallways, private rooms, quiet couches tucked into corners, and Gilmore Girls.
Many a time, I found myself circling the elevators on the ground floor trying to process. Allume lived up to it’s name but it was beyond the keynotes or the seminars or the speakers, even though those were good in their own right (and a few are still sticking with me, now).
There are things I can not write about yet, years of things culminating into one week that have slayed me. But it was the prayers and the spontaneous preaching coming at me sideways, from unexpected angles or people, which lit my soul with gratitude for the mighty Spirit abiding within us. And it was a creamy white pitcher that prophesied a blessing and a hope on a counter which declared His goodness to me.

So much "grace and gratitude" tonight. #housewarmingGift #inMyDaughtersKitchen #miracle #allume #giftUponGift
After newly arriving at Allume, before we'd reached the miry depths, before the waxing between weary joy and somber awareness, I had a strong urge to share the worth of our spirits. The deep-down, laid-bare, beyond the insecurity of finding our place at a table, God sees the worth under the layers of worldly cares or outfits. He lives the inside out. As much as we want this place among someone's, we want God more.
I am always hungry. Like a starving child pleading to be feed. But it's for the soul. It is for the nourishing, building, and strengthening inside. And we know God longs to speak in His timing. There are droplets of dew only touching the surface or floods ripping through the fibers of our being.
It was the latter which came for me this week.

I left Greenville, breathless by an all-consuming God. And I drove my rental car, not to Texas, but further away into the hills of South Carolina. I worried not (as my past habit would have it) if my face had the proper amount of mascara or if the right shade of brown covered my brow. I was ready to be seen, in the raw. To not let my "put-together" life sacrifice love.
I drove further east, far and away from my Atlanta departure because sometimes you have to go backwards before you can go forwards.
That's when the roads began writing my story through the tree-lined curves of Carolina pines and hardwoods. Fall colors burst beside me as I whizzed past. I saw the dark-skinned people walking the streets with their grocery sacks. A past as personal as the heart that beats inside me, has been lived here and I once saw only pain here. But, as God would have it, I saw light. Everywhere.

Around me came through filters of grace, hope, and redemption. So obviously, I sent myself text messages (because I'm weird like that) about what I saw. I made markers. But they were hidden away, tucked safely in my heart and on my texts.

And it is ok. It's ok to not post every moment. Because there are times to labor, of caring for the body and caring for life. And that means carrying the moments (or people) in the wombs of our souls until we're ready to give birth.

I'm bit swollen with it all. Yet there was no captured, or Twitter-ed, or Facebook-ed trail per se', but God continues to call deep to deep. And some days, weeks, maybe years, we are letting the deep slay us. I will possibly feel the contractions, one day. And when I do, the groaning's will be birthed into words in this small corner, as a way to illume the trail that began there. Until then, my soul is full and I'm grasping at the overflow, frantically looking for cups to capture it.


(If you missed Allume, then you are warmly welcomed to join us over here and catch up.)






Monday, October 20, 2014

For the Dog Days of Homeschooling

The year is in full swing and here you are, homeschooling. Everywhere is a classroom and you are trying to keep these two eyes open to see the wonder of it, to find opportunities. Because you don't want to miss. You don't want to miss one single moment even as the whole world feels like it is sitting on your shoulders. Or in the least, the educational scales are.

You know what it means to have opposition, right inside your own family. You have faced the criticism, the doubts, the downright venomous opinions of how homeschooling is "damaging" them. And you don't deny that it can be that way, with emphasis on "can," but anything can for that matter. And for the life of you, as much as you beg and plead and cajole, some people will never come around. On the bad days, it'll be difficult bringing your self around too. But when it's good, what exactly do you see?

The sun bursts through from the east and there is a patio afire with blinding bright as honey bees try to suckle from some white Knockout rose bush somewhere. Each day is wide with possibilities. Year to year and day to day, you take it, not always sure what it holds. You've heard the negative reviews and posts about it all. But. You've also read the positive ones, the articles about how homeschoolers are well-adjusted in College, about how they tend to have good family relations if the relationships were handled with care, about how they have more time to really get good at a sport or musical instrument or anything they are passionate about. You read about how homeschooling did not damage but in fact did much good. And you are buoyed because there is life after this, a promising one.

Maybe your family has tried the routes of public school or private school or both, and still you are here. Doing the thing you swore you could never do. Ever. But teaching is a great burden and you admire any soul who's willing to tackle it, no matter where they school.

So you take today, for what it is and you make the most of it. You don't promise any die-hard rules about the future because right now, you are in this moment. The inverted fractions, the soft-spoken tutoring lessons, learning how to say "unsweetened tea with lemon, please" in Spanish, doing speeches on current events in front of a classroom about a spacecraft called M.A.V.E.N., or sitting on the trampoline while you do astronomy and talk about stars or constellations, and basically become more engaged than ever before.

The exhaustion and hunger which used to hang heavy dark shadows after your son or daughter plopped their school bag in the car, are gone. Even your own mind refused to want to think of the public (or private) classroom because there were papers to sign, field trips to pay for, early mornings that required a good nights rest (and early bedtime). But there were still lunches to be made, homework to do, and maybe even tears over ugly social issues cropping it's head into your child's life. And you wonder of socialization and how so many people emphasize it. Not all socialization is good and especially when you see it damaging your little people's spirit.

At one time, you may have homeschooled for fear of the world. But now you do it for love, of holding these precious years close. You've seen how quickly they slip away. Yet, education is serious and you take it as such. Many a day you find yourself researching all the ways of learning, because you are determined this is what you're called to do and you don't want to ruin it. You employ help where needed, drive long distances to get your little person the resources he or she needs. As much as you are a teacher, you are the student too.

So you prepare them. Not to hide. No, you want to prepare their little souls to take heart to be in the world. Because at home, bullying and teasing from a gang of peers has ceased. And you aren't apologizing for that. Instead, you are putting one front in front of the other and you are studying them, heart and soul. You are becoming a pupil who is learning how they tick as you find ways to make learning alive. There are hard days, like any other. But at least you can nap, get a snack, take a break and start over. You are learning how iron is sharpening iron and on a good many days, your children are that iron. Yet, homeschooling isn't about squelching any of it.

The sun is rising higher and now it's time to begin. There is no romantic novelty here. Just work. So you put your head down and get to it. And you love. Lots of love. You hold these pupils loosely because they are learning to grow in love too. You want room for them to breathe it in, to exhale the tension so close to the surface in our world.

And you fall in love with them all over again, just like the day a man with a wall of diploma's placed their swaddled frame in your arms. There are no illusions. But on some days, your heart bursts with this gift of homeschooling. So you savor it for what it is. 

Because who knows what tomorrow will bring.


At Kelli's Unforced Rhythm's.


Saturday, October 11, 2014

In A World Full Of Trouble, My Childlike Faith Will Rise (Playdates with God)

It's 3 a.m. and once again I'm wide awake. As the darkness quietly sits in the room, the bottom of my room-darkening shades are glowing from the moon stretching its bright fingers beneath. I can not sleep. And my mind is heavy and somber with thoughts about where I am in my journey, of what it is to walk forward, and exploring (or rediscovering) my own childlike faith.

But the words are still too fresh, too murky. So I close my laptop.

Three days later, it is a new day as the rain hems me in and I welcome it. The world lies just a key tap away. A whole library of events ready to be delivered: of diseases, lives violently extinguished in horrific manners, of bombs, political unrest, streets upended, wars and rumors of wars. There's no head in the sand these days.

And yet.

Focusing too long on the evils of this world, on the troubles and the tribulations, my childlike faith grows up and leaves me standing with a tired and fearful heart. So I must look away.

Because my God.

"Isn't this the way of a little child? To open the mind wide enough that the huge presence of the impossible can fit inside? Children don't suspend disbelief. They enter into belief with their whole of the beings." Laura Boggess, Playdates with God
In a good way, this book has disturbed my thoughts. It has awakened my need to return to this kind of faith, more so today than ever.

Yesterday, someone had a heated discussion with me about a worrisome current event. And it was passionate and loud and it was unsettling. Too many times, I see the world seeping into relationships. The cares of this world, the rising food costs, the new norm of escalated gas prices, the trajectory of nations, of healthcare, of violence, of rights, freedoms, and liberties, and the slippery slope of any of these, have become damaging wedges. The world can harm relationships we cherish just by existing and being accessible to us.

Knowledge. Much of it exists by the deluge. I've chased it long enough to know it's power to rule our lives above others, in spite of others. I don't always look away. But I can look so long that I forget.

The world looms large around us and we get swallowed in the mire of it.

Evil. How sly it is, silently or not so silently, snaking its way into our lives, in-between lives. Unsettling, separating, turmoiling, and dividing by the mere over-abundance of it.

"When we admit there are things that we cannot understand, we give our minds permission to open to the sheer magnitude of all that God is capable of." Laura Boggess, Playdates with God
Once again, I'm reminded of my needed return to this simple faith, where the world pales in comparison to the One who created it. Laura's book has uprooted something in me and in my investigation of it, how does one live in as a grown up and still gain a childlike faith, to be harmless as doves but wise as serpents? To give ourselves "permission" of enriching our personal relationship with God with child-like faith-ness? How can us responsible adults shed the worries, the weights, the burdens, or shackles to re-discover it?

As I meditated on this, I thought of Paul. When he wrote to Ephesus, or Corinth, or Galatia, or Colosse. His overarching theme was to operate according to the Holy Spirit that was given us, to love one another, to not be restrained by legalistic Jewish rules, to exercise His gifts in a way that honors God and others, and to encourage us to run our race. Even the letter to Rome, a society not completely unlike our own today, which started out with depravity and idols, judgment and a need for circumcised hearts, found the whole world is guilty. But what enters in at Chapter 3?

Faith. For two more chapters, even more faith.

And then we find our new life in Christ (Romans 6), even as sin wars in our members (Romans 7), and the Spirit gives us hope (Romans 8), even as others reject Him (Romans 9), Paul reassures us that our right standing comes by one way--

Faith, alone (Romans 10).

We've entered into this commune by faith. 

The world has lured me out too many times. I have been drawn away by train wreck after train wreck of current events. As they kept coming, I followed. And when I tarry there, I enter the darkness of this world with only a wee match to see my way around.

"And Nicodemus, in the cover of darkness--from out of that cloak of legalism--asks, 'How can a man be born when he is old? Surely he cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb to be born!' (John 3:3-4 NIV 1984). Laura Boggess, Playdates with God

How can I indeed? That is why I must. It is too easy to be lost in fret and frustration. I need the eternal and true in a ever-darkening place. Besides, "whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:4 ESV

There are many delivery rooms in life, each one birthing something new. And in a world full of trouble, I give my childlike faith permission. To play. To rest. To sing a-long. To break away and swing with my feet in the sky. To dance. To capture tree tops glowing against a setting sun.

I give it permission--to rise. Because there is ample time for the rest.


{A special thank you to Laura Boggess for her book, Playdates with God. This is helping mold my faith with a desperate and needed message. And in this day and age, as the days grow more and more dark, I'm finding that I need "a childlike faith in a grown-up world." }


Also, at Kelli's Unforced Rhythm's.

Monday, September 22, 2014


Summer slipped out quietly like a visitor feeling too awkward for a goodbye. I tried to enjoy her. I tried to suck every moment, savor the searing seconds, and bask in the place between muggy heat and toes finding the balm of water. But she's gone. And as much as I love Fall, there is a bit of wistful lingering.

Time was in too much of a hurry. And in its haste comes change. So I turn into it.

I've been reflecting, which seems to be what I do this time of the year. All around are signs, tell-tale ones. And if I look back over the changes, then I'd see the year when I was learning how to live all over again because of the dark, winter of soul. So much has happened from there to here. Some of that began in the first fruits of life when soccer was saving my (lonely) life.
Looking back, I noticed how this was all an offering.

As it is now, we are in another year of Soccer. And yes, there is something special about a team sport your kids love to play, even when it is less dramatic than saving your life this time. I have been getting a sideline view of my young people playing with all their heart as I pace and cheer in a voice my  younger son compared to "shouting like a bird, chirping for it's life." Because obviously, soccer is dramatic.

So here it is--Fall. And what of these days which flit around like a restless Gold Finch? I barely have time to admire the yellow breast, the tiny shocks of color, before it's flying off to perch on a distant branch.

I pause to breathe. Out my dining room window, I glance at my boys playing on the trampoline with their cousin and I appreciate the sly warmth of what is leaving and embrace what is coming. I gather my loose ends and wonder where they lead. There are things I want to do but life gets busy and I only hope that I am doing it in a way that honors this one, wild one I've been given.  

As the world spins, it is with words I stop and go backwards. I can look from this vantage point and 'though I can't see up ahead, I can see the path behind me.

Writing is a trail of finding our way home. Perhaps of finding our way out, but also, of finding the life in this small moment. Of noticing the pebbles, the leaf, the caressing wind, and the little (rapidly growing into what is becoming less and less, "little") humans in our midst's. We may not be able to so slow them down, but we can see, acknowledge, and pull over to grab as much as we can. Only when we are waiting does time move slow and push the limits of being obscene. So we write it down, to remember, to leave a trail of what life brought us and how far we've come, or how little we've moved at all, but we will see it. For surely, God was in the place and we didn't know it.

But we want too.

I want too.

And we write, despite ourselves. Despite the landscape. Because we need to breathe in or out of season and writing has this way of waking alive our souls from it's deep slumber. For we shall know.
"When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he said, 'Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.'” Genesis 28:16 HCSB


Follow me to Laura's and Kelli's.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

What I learned from #50women, Giveaway & Review

There are many books about Martyrs or men who have been giants for the faith, but not many are dedicated to women of the faith. And why is that, I wonder?

Enter 50 Women Every Christian Should Know.

As I read this book, I was reminded of the women who surrounded Jesus and how their faith is documented in the Gospels. And 'though some of these women in #50Women & the Gospels lived long ago, I was also reminded that we are not separate and isolated cases.  We are one in Christ and for that we are connected. For "there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, heirs according to the promise." (Galatians 3:28, 29).

This is our history, my history, as women, as Christians. Despite where we fall on doctrines or theologies, these women stood up for what they believed. This is not about the 5-points of Calvinism or the tenets of one doctrine over another. Instead, this about the appreciation of the trials and tribulations of those who went before us. They believed what they believed, and they were persecuted for it. How can we not learn from history? These #50Women stood by their convictions, even when they struggled for their faith.   

Tale upon tale is told of how they persevered, even to the point of  isolation, ex-communication, exile, and torture. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to try and imagine how devastating it would have been. But these women lived normal lives, some of them were married with children. They were daughters, Mom's and wives, sisters, and Aunts. They were like us. And they had a passion for Jesus, for God, much in the same way many women I know today, do.  

If there's one thing we can learn, it'd be--standing for our faith isn't easy. As I read about these women, I found that courage and faith comes from the most unlikely of sources. And if it came from these, then it still comes today. This also reveals that we are still, in the present day and age, surrounded by unlikely sources, even among our peers, friends, or communities.  

From #50Women, two women's lives stayed with me the most and they shared the same name too, Anne.


Anne Askew (1521-1546) was a daughter of a knighted member of Parliament whose wealthy family afforded her a leisurely life. But her strong believes in Protestant reform and Jesus as her only salvation, kept her from enjoying such wealth. Parts of her history that intrigued me most were these quotes from Michelle's book 50 Women Every Christian Should Know:

After stating, on trial, that she was able to learn about God, through scriptures and that she believed as the scripture informed her. "She angered her prosecutors when she challenged them to find any dishonesty in her, claiming that there were many who claimed to read and know Scripture but who did not live out Jesus' teachings as well as she did."

Anne defended her right to discuss scriptures. But "her male interrogators, who included the Bishop of London and other powerful state and church officials, charged that Anne blatantly disregarded Saint Paul's proclamation that women should remain silent in the churches." (And yet, she continued to proclaim the simple gospel of Jesus to the courts.)

"She emphatically denied the charge of heresy and declared that she would confess her sins not to a priest but to God directly, fully confident that she would be forgiven."


Anne Hutchinson (1591-1643) married her childhood friend, had many children, and took care of her mother-in-law. Plus she was a midwife. But it was the gospel of grace that saved her. Her family moved to Boston just to hear more about this Gospel which was far less confined then her English religion. She discovered the revelation of scripture through the Holy Spirit. But this is also what got her in trouble. Anne's "theology suggested that one could receive the word of God directly from the Holy Spirit, an idea that the colonial leaders found not only threatening but also heretical."

This eventually lead to her being put on trial. In one of the court sessions, "as she went on to cite how the Holy Spirit was revealed to her through verses in Isaiah and Daniel, Anne gathered steam, concluding her testimonial with this emphatic declaration: 'Therefore, take heed how you proceed against me, for you have no power over my body. Neither can you do me harm, for I am in the hands of the eternal Jehovah my Savior. I am at his appointment.'"

Marie Bride will be receiving a copy of #50Women in the mail! Congrats, Marie!

***Also, Michelle Derusha is giving away some gifts as well. So make the rounds by clicking on her name.

Shared at Michelle's #50Women book launching post. Yay!