a short update...

I am having surgery on Friday and somehow that feels like a deadline of sorts to submit a couple of my finished stories. I am going to submit my middle grade novel, as well as a picture book manuscript this week! I’m nervous and excited and that’s how I know it’s a good thing.

So today I am doing some final edits as I read through them one more time. I want to be published, of course, but mostly I know I just have to try. That’s all we can do, right? I’ve had this dream since I was 10, so it’s time to really give it a shot. I’ll keep you posted!

Resting in Belovedness

“May I invite you to drop the old names, come out from under the shame that tries to hinder your intimacy with God and others, and step onto the spacious path. Child of the living God, sing to the living God.”

--Tamara Hill Murphy in The Spacious Path: Practicing the Restful Way of Jesus in a Fragmented World

I wrote a couple months ago about shedding old coping mechanisms to live more intentionally and to walk in truth and today I’m going to write about another. This one has been a longer journey for me, with many iterations. But it ends with a tattoo. 

It began recently as it always does: with an awkward encounter with an acquaintance. 

In the past, I would have left the encounter and verbally berated myself about how weird and awkward I am, asking myself what was wrong with me. Looking back, I am sad about how cruel I was to myself - knowing that if someone else had said to me what I said to myself, it would be labeled abusive. I am happy to say I am past that, as that was a more obvious affront to God and His good work that is me.

But as I fought that old habit, it morphed into the thought that (and this is embarrassing to admit) “Wait until I lose weight, then they’ll want to be friends with me.” It was a mostly sub-conscious thought, but it somehow gave me (false) hope that someday I’d be better and more deserving of people’s love. As I was slowly convicted of loving myself as God’s image-bearer, I again realized that this was not a healthy thought and began to fight this one as well. 

Soon though, the thought turned into the more subtle “well, that was awkward but wait until (fill in the blank) happens” pattern. I had become more comfortable with my weight and physical self, but still wasn’t happy with just being me.

This pattern took me a while to suss out. I had shed the verbally abusive comments, the negative thoughts about my weight, but I still put my hope it a false idea that someday people would love me for my accomplishments. I was idolizing some false ideal to help with the pain and fear of just offering my true self, take it or leave it. But the Holy Spirit is faithful and even revealed this one to me after a while, and I believe it was to bring me right here, to this moment.

After the aforementioned awkward encounter the other day, I started mentally going through different ways I could prove to this person that I wasn’t actually a weird person. I can be fun! I am a good friend! I give good gifts! (Yes, these are literally the thoughts that ran through my head…) I thought of texts I could send or offers of favors I could make. When suddenly it hit me: I am already beloved. I don’t have to prove myself to people. They can just accept me for who I am: broken, fragile me. Because the good news is that I am already beloved.

I am already beloved!

It has taken me a long time to see what a restful truth this is. I can stop my striving to prove myself and rest in my belovedness. Because the truth is, I am a good friend. I can be fun. I do give good gifts! I am a good and beautiful Creation of the God of the universe. And most importantly, I was loved by Him even before I came to be. 

I absolutely love this quote from Tamara Hill Murphy in her book The Spacious Path: Practicing the Restful Way of Jesus in a Fragmented World:

Our parents name us at birth, and God gives us our forever name at the second birth of baptism. In baptism, we step into the water of death with Jesus and are raised with him, the beloved. Because belovedness begins in God, we do not name ourselves beloved; instead, we receive the name—the reality of ourselves, fully seen and loved by God—as a gift. We accept beloved as our name, and we accept ourselves as being loved. Our temptation is to live as if we are beloved without letting the truth sink down into the true state of our souls. We may believe God loves us, but we haven’t allowed that love to help us discover the truth about ourselves. Any rest we feel that doesn’t help us discover the truth about ourselves is a false rest. 

And oh! The rest and freedom that comes in truly believing that I am beloved. No more coping mechanisms after awkward encounters. Instead, I will snuggle into the truth of my belovedness. I’m so grateful that God calls me his beloved. And I’m grateful that my parents gave me the name that means beloved.

And that’s why I got a tattoo, to always remind myself of that truth and find rest. 

Two things I refuse to do anymore

1. Wish away the time (or “push through”)

2. Try to “get ahead”

I’m going to be honest and say this is a rushed blog post because I wanted to have something to post for the month of August! But what with vacation, back to school, and being sick, among other things, I haven’t sat down to write at all the entire month. But I have been pondering those two points for a while now, as I try to embrace a more restful lifestyle, even in the chaos of life, and had written those two points down a few months ago.

First of all, for many years, I would whisper to myself “just push through to bedtime” or “once this week is over, everything will be better”, but recently I realized I’ve been saying those things for nearly 40 years! So obviously these are lies I tell myself to get through a hard thing or week and something needed to change. I have been working on this because it’s a pretty big mental shift but I refuse to wish away the time anymore. It goes too quickly on its own!

I just finished Anthony Bloom’s Beginning to Pray and these are some of my favorite quotes from the chapter “Managing Time”:

“The moment I began to feel ‘I must be quick”, I would sit back and engage in small talk for a few minutes just to prevent myself from hurrying…

“Learn to master time, and you will be able - whatever you do, whatever the stress, in the storm, in tragedy, or simply in the confusion in which we continuously live - to be still, immobile in the present, face to face with the Lord, in silence or in words.”

He argues that we should practice sitting still and doing nothing for five minutes, gradually increasing that time the better we get at it (it makes sense that we should have to practice this, given that we are naturally very “busy” creatures!). So I figure that if I need to take a break for 5-10 minutes to gain some perspective, take some deep breaths, whisper some prayers, or write some laments or gratitudes, then that is worth stopping and doing in order to stop wishing away the moment.

My second point, “trying to get ahead”, is related to the first. This is another lie I’ve told myself for a long time! You know the one: if I just do this thing now, I won’t have to do it tomorrow and I’ll get ahead (I suppose the goal of this is so maybe we can gain some rest tomorrow? Which never happens!)*. I realized this one Sunday night when I threw in a load of laundry to “get ahead” for Monday. It hit me that there would always be laundry. It’s laughable to think there’s a “getting ahead” with laundry! So I should just rest now, when I’m supposed to be practicing Sabbath rest anyway!

And isn’t this true with so many other things in life? The work will always be there. The idea of “getting ahead” is almost universally a lie (I suppose we can all come up with exceptions) that I don’t want to buy into anymore. I need to rest when I can, which is probably still less than I need.

So these are two things I am working on not doing anymore. Does anyone want to join me?

*Weirdly, I also do the opposite. The famous procrastinator phrase “Why do today what you can push off until tomorrow?” also applies. What can I say? People are complicated.

Selah Residency #1

Pictured: Feelings cards from Elise; St. Benedict quote from Tamara Murphy that goes with her new book “The Spacious Path”; prayer cards by W. David O. Taylor.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, but I’m learning that’s #momlife in summer! Most things have been good, but some have been hard and sad. But before any more time goes by, I wanted to post a short update about my first residency with Selah.

Selah is a program designed to train Spiritual Directors. There is a lot of reading, contemplation, retreat, practicing Spiritual Direction, and there are 5 in-person residencies total. This post is about my first residency. Much of what I took away I am still processing and will leave between me and God and a few close friends. But some of the gifts of the weekend, I would like to share here more publicly.

The weekend started very hard for me, a shy introvert unused to big groups of strangers! I felt unloved, unknown, and unwanted, if I’m completely honest. Those feelings were very familiar to me once upon a time, but not recently, so it was upsetting to have them come back. This is why I started journaling gifts. It felt important to notice them.

Gifts

1. I forgot my phone charger. This doesn’t sound like a gift, and I would not have said so at first! In fact, in all honesty, I panicked a little. Not even just at the thought of not having my phone, but the thought of even asking someone for a charger felt overwhelming to me. I did get to the point, though, that I realized this was actually a gift. I was able to be fully present without any social media or other distractions on my phone.

2. I shared, through tears, my true feelings. Again, doesn’t sound like a gift! But in speaking those feelings out loud, to a woman that I immediately trusted, took away their power. I was able to put voice to the fact that I believed God to be inviting me to deeper levels of healing.

3. I loved my peer group. We separated into smaller groups and I loved all the people in mine. It felt easier to open up in a smaller setting, and easier to make connections.

4. Someone had an extra phone charger. Somehow the first person I shared with about my phone had brought an extra charger and she gave it to me on the last day. She offered to just let me have it, but I returned it to her, thinking I’d be home the next day. (When my flight was cancelled, I really wished I had kept it!)

5. We had a story time with a picture book. What a gift to be ministered to with a medium that I love so much! How often have I said that adults should be reading children’s fiction? And that they can teach us so much?!

6. The picture book was about a bunny. This felt like a gift just for me! I’m not sure if anyone else in that room had sat with a bunny and snuggled, but for me it is almost a sacred experience. To hold a bunny is to quiet your body and be silent, which is such a perfect picture of Spiritual Direction.

7. Walking the labyrinth in community. I’m not sure I can put words to this one, but it was a highlight of my time there. We all walked into the labyrinth unsure and thinking it was a little weird, but most people left in tears. There was something about everyone being on the same path, just different places, but with the same goal. And sometimes we would be close to the center and sometimes we would be farther from the center, even though we were further along the path. During some of the hard things these past few weeks, as I have battled old demons, I have thought of this image, telling myself that I am further along the path, but maybe just not so close to the center right now. I know that God is inviting me to deeper levels of healing and intimacy with Him.

8. Spending 8 hours in the airport with T. What could have been a long afternoon by myself was made much more pleasant with a new friend from Selah who was also waiting on her flight. We spent 8 hours getting to know each other and it really was a joy. I’m so thankful I could end my time by processing, debriefing, and just getting to know her!

Good Friday Testimony

I recently had the privilege of sharing part of my testimony at our church’s Good Friday service. If you know me, this was way out of my comfort zone! But that is all part of the testimony of God’s work in my life. I decided to share what I wrote/shared on here, as well, in case it encourages anyone else. (The service had testimonies that corresponded to the seven last words of Jesus. I was assigned “I thirst”.)

I thirst.

I’m going to start off by reading an excerpt from a blog post I wrote in August of 2021. I often use my blog to try to put into words things that I’m learning or wrestle with the things I’m thinking about, so I feel like this post is a good starting point for what I want to talk about tonight.

______

The fear is a mountain, a living mountain with arms that reach out to me.

I know that the mountain can shrink over time. But it’s not the mountain that goes anywhere. It’s a mountain. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t get smaller. 

It’s just a matter of whether I stay in its shadow or not.

It’s a matter of whether I look at it or not. 

It’s a matter of whether I give it space in my thoughts or not. 

It’s a matter of me saying “God is good.” And then realizing if I really believe that, then fear can have no room in my heart. 

It’s a matter of me saying “Do I trust God or not?”

If the answer is yes, then I can’t even look at that mountain. I can’t even glance that way. My only response is to stare into the face of Jesus and never look away. 

The fear mountain is still there. It is a mountain of fear. A scary mountain with rampaging arms and gnashing teeth. 

But it’s getting easier not to look at it.

I am walking and the mountain that used to loom above me, completely obstructing my path, seems smaller now.

It’s walking with Jesus in the helpless moments that gave me the way around it, and I am slowly making my way towards him, away from the mountain. The mountain never shrinks, it’s just easier not to look at it all the time because I have taken steps away from it.

_____

This journey from fear towards freedom started a few years earlier when I was talking to our pastor about possibly leading a small group. I told him no, I’m not a group person, I don’t feel comfortable speaking up in groups, I prefer one-on-one. I remember the moment very clearly, because he sat back in his chair and sort of pointed at me and said “You can be set free of that.” I think it took me by surprise and I may have even been a bit insulted! I was thinking this is just who I am! I don’t need to be set free of anything! I’m fine, I just don’t like groups, it’s OK to prefer one-on-one!

But I think he must have heard the fear in me that day and I just couldn’t see it. I didn’t even know how trapped in fear and old wounds I was and that God was offering me something better.

But since that day, I have heard God’s invitation with that sentence so many times.

Fear of speaking in groups? “You can be set free of that.”
Self-loathing and insecurities? “You can be set free of that.”
Anxiety over health problems? “You can be set free of that.
Fear for your children and their future? “You can be set free of that.”
Fear of speaking in front of people? “You can be set free of that.” (That one is a work in progress! They all are actually.)

My eyes have slowly and gently been opened to all the ways that I was trapped, and even paralyzed, with fear and I didn’t even know it.

I wish I could say how it works. I think about that a lot. When I hear that invitation to freedom from God, how does it work then to actually make it happen? And I really don’t know. All I know is that I have to say “OK, I want the freedom that you’re offering” and then it happens, God takes care of the rest. Sometimes it’s like I have to cling to that “OK”, but clinging to an OK to God is still way better than being trapped in my wounding and fear.

When Jesus was on the cross and said “I thirst”, he was offered only sour wine. When I echo the Psalmist and say “My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” he offers me all of himself. He died for me so my thirst would be quenched and that I would be set free.

My church on Easter morning

He was pierced for [my] transgressions,
    he was crushed for [my] iniquity;
the punishment that brought me peace was on him,
    and by his wounds [I am] healed.

The journey away from fear is the long game and I am not totally out of its grasp, probably in ways I still don’t even know about it yet. But I do know that I am a better friend, wife, and mother now that I’ve been set free of so many things and I know that I want to keep being set free for the rest of my life.

I thirst.

On Becoming

With eyes full of stars, a heart of joy,
And simple life, full of affection.
Content to just be who you are!
And that has been perfection.

But now you are becoming more,
No longer gazing at the skies,
Maturing from the child you were.
And tears, not stars, now fill your eyes.

You are growing into who you will be,
Not losing who you were before.
Becoming is not a loss, but a gain:
You are who you were, just so much more.

You wonder and worry about who you will be,
And mourn what you are succumbing.
May your eyes fill back with stars when you realize
The radiant, true self you are becoming.

Beauty, Freedom, Abundance

These three words have been on my heart the past few months and I finally realized that this is how I want to see the world, with eyes that seek beauty, freedom, and abundance. I want them to be written on the frame in which I see every landscape, every sorrow, every joy, every face. But sometimes I need the reminder to actively seek these things, and not expect them to just come passing by.

Today I read in The Art of Noticing by Rob Walker that you should take a piece of plastic and point it at a scene. Then describe that scene with markers on the piece of plastic. Now shift the plastic to another scene and see how the words could possibly fit. I thought I can make that work with my three words as well!

So this is the scene I look at from my office, and these are the three things I want to seek in every place I look. It’s easy to see them here. But may I be the kind of person that can find these three things anywhere and then help to show them to others as well.

Reflections on Lament

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures forevermore.” Psalm 16:11

During Lent this year, our church* has been gathering together (via Zoom) to “practice lament”. This is an intimidating idea to most people: gathering with others with the sole purpose of being sad together. (Letting ourselves be sad when we’re alone is scary enough!) It sounds completely outside our comfort zones and honestly, maybe, rather pointless. Why should we just take time to be sad? And why magnify the sadness by hearing about everyone else’s?

But surprisingly that’s not what happens. The sadness doesn’t feel magnified. And suddenly we don’t feel so alone. 

I am not a pastor or a leader of these groups. I am a participant, and in speaking to other participants I’ve heard things like “I feel so heard”, “I feel so connected to the community”, “I feel hopeful and safe here.” To hear these statements, a year after the world fell apart, and during/after a gathering on lament, is absolutely profound. 

Our pastor often talks about lament being God’s good gift to us in our healing journey. “Lament”, as opposed to just “sadness”, is offering up our sadness to God. And I would add we offer up our sadness to God in expectation - we want to know what He is going to do about it! Sometimes we get an answer, sometimes we don’t. But it is the process, not the answer, that is important.

I can’t help but think of the Pixar movie, Inside Out.** Joy spends the whole movie trying to keep Sadness away from the control board of Riley’s mind. Riley is even commended for her positive outlook, even when things are hard. But in the end, it isn’t Joy who saves the day. Joy finally realizes that the only path to healing Riley is by letting Sadness do her job and take control for a little while. Only when Riley is finally able to express her Sadness, Joy can reenter the picture. And at the end, there is a beautiful picture of Joy and Sadness, hand-in-hand on the control board of Riley’s mind, as Riley snuggles her parents. 

What a stunning picture of Sadness and Joy, co-mingling in healing. The two often have to work together. There is no life without sadness because our world is broken. Unless we know how to find joy in and through sadness, we will have no hope.

We have to learn how to find the joy in the sadness. 

I am constantly reminded of this scene when I “practice lament” with others at my church.

But what’s even better is that we as Christians are not alone with our sadness. Not only do we have each other, we have a God who weeps with us. And as we lift our sadness up to God in lament, He meets us right where we are. 

So I am saying this to you and I am saying this to myself: please, please stop fearing sadness. It is scary to just let ourselves be sad, because what if it breaks us? What if we can’t ever be happy again? But offer your sadness to God and He will meet you in it. 

He came down to earth and experienced suffering first-hand. This is the week we remember Jesus’ journey to the cross, the ultimate in suffering and sacrifice. Meet Him in this suffering. Let yourselves be sad, offer it up as lament, and He will set you on the path of healing to acceptance, to abundance, to joy, and ultimately, the path to Life.

*Church of the Apostles, Bridgeport, CT. Most of what is written here is what I’ve learned there. Except with less Pixar.

**Why do Pixar movies always make it into my blog posts? Let’s pretend it’s because I work with children - but it’s actually just because I think they are phenomenal! And full of good, deep lessons on life!

I love walking in cemeteries.*

There are the days when you need to shut off the noise, and nothing does that like a walk in a cemetery. There is a reason for the expression “silent as the grave.”

Today in particular I need silence, so I leave my phone at home and walk to the nearby cemetery. 

The first thing I notice is the sound of my footsteps. (If I had my phone, I wouldn’t have even noticed them.) The sound is a reminder that I am alive. And I will be alive until the moment I take my last breath. This sounds obvious, but sometimes I need this reminder. Amidst the anxiety of life and the treading water of purpose, I need to remember that whatever my surroundings, I am still alive. And because I am still alive, I am still called by God to live.

I glance at the names on each stone. I say the names in my head and hope in some small way this keeps their memory alive and honors them. I take note of the dates. I even find my eyes moistening when my brief calculations prove a child is buried here. I grieve for them. Sometimes I even pray for their souls, which I am not sure is theologically correct, but I still think it’s OK to do. 

I like to think that even though I love the silence of a cemetery, it’s OK to bring my children once in a while and let them play among the stones. I imagine that every person buried there would love to hear children laughing and running and using every second to just live their precious lives. Children are good at teaching us how to do that. And there is no more profound example for me than children running in a cemetery. 

Today I am thankful for my walk in the cemetery and the lessons I glean from it. I like to think the people buried there would be happy to know their bodily presence nestled in the ground can still play a part in instructing the living. 

*This was written earlier in the pandemic. Reading it now, months later, I realize it sounds pretty morbid. I don’t mean it to be. I think we always need to be reminded to move forward and live abundantly, even if we aren’t depressed (but let’s be honest - the pandemic has brought many of us to varying levels of depression!).

Are you hungry right now?

“Are you hungry right now?” I asked.

“Yes, starving!” They both answered. 

We were driving home from delivering a meal to friends who were sick. They were used to the drill: rushing to get in the car, clad in PJs and slippers - or in summer, no shoes at all, bellies rumbling because we won’t eat our dinner until we get home. This is just something we do every month or so.

The fact that we do this so often makes me chuckle. I always end up in a bad mood, we are always rushed, the kids whine. I do not consider myself a good cook, so serving people with meals seems out of my wheelhouse. Yet we keep doing it, and that night it became an opportunity for good conversation.

“Mom, sometimes it feels like we are the only ones in the world who love Jesus,” my daughter said, in her usual hyperbolic and dramatic way. “I mean, us, the people at my school, and the people at our church are the only ones.”

I laughed. “That’s actually a lot of people!” But I could tell she needed more.

“The fact is, there are many people all around the world who love Jesus. But there are also many people who don’t.”

“Does it matter that they don’t? I mean, won’t Jesus still love them?”

Oh goodness, this is a lot to discuss when I’m in a bad mood and my own stomach is grumbling (the word is hangry).

“It matters in the end whether people believe in Jesus or not. He loves everyone, and it’s our responsibility to tell them that and show them with our lives how Jesus loves them. When you follow Jesus, you are supposed to think of how you can love and care for others, not just yourself. Sometimes that even means putting the needs of others before your own needs.”

“How do you do that?”

That’s when the brain wave came. We were literally doing just that. (These are the times I know God is giving me the words to say, and I can take no credit.) I asked them if they were hungry, knowing full well how hungry we all were. It was a dinner they both actually liked - a rare occasion indeed! And we were looking forward to getting home to dig in. But first, we had jumped in the car to deliver a meal to someone else. 

“That’s just one example of putting the needs of others in front of our own. We are hungry, but we brought a meal to someone else first. They felt loved, cared for, and seen. And that’s showing them the love of Jesus.”

And then we got home and ate. 

So I will continue to bring meals, rushing the kids to the car, so that they can see God’s love in action through me, through them, even through their rumbling bellies. And then we’ll come home and eat, knowing that God loves and provides for us, too. 

Being Brave

“Boys are braver than girls,” my daughter announced one afternoon.

I don’t remember what I was doing, but I know my head snapped up, ready for a fight! Now, I am not a hard-core feminist but I will fight for my gender when necessary, especially when it comes to my daughter.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, coolly, as if I was only slightly interested. (Sometimes I have to reign in my reactions, so I don’t scare her away.)

“They just like to climb high and jump off things and touch bugs and stuff like that,” she said.

“And that makes them braver?” I asked. Again, I was super-cool about it.

“Well, I’m too afraid to do those things and they aren’t!”

I could see her logic, because it seems to me it’s the logic that most people use when describing brave: If I’m too afraid of something, and you do it, then you must be braver than me.

But I’m here to say FALSE.

Being brave is highly subjective. What is brave for one person might not be brave for another! The hard part about being brave is facing our fears. There is no brave without some kind of fear.

Brave is speaking up when you are terrified to speak in public.

Brave is telling your story even when you feel embarrassed by it.

Brave is continuing to love someone who has hurt you in the past and you are worried it will happen again.

Brave is breaking up with someone who is wrong for you, even though you’re afraid of being alone.

Brave is opening your home to strangers, even though you fear the unknown.

I don’t want to take away from people who speak in public and are not terrified, who tell their story and are not embarrassed, who love someone else but have never been hurt by them, who break up with the wrong person for them but don’t fear loneliness, who are hospitable to strangers but are not worried about what they will bring. Those are all good things. They just are not brave.

Brave does not come easy, so let’s not water down its meaning by crediting it to those people who do not have the accompanying fear.

So as I looked at my daughter that afternoon, I wanted to explain all this to her and somehow show her that sometimes her mom can even be brave! But there’s a problem: in order to reveal the brave, I also have to reveal the fear and insecurity behind the brave. And that’s the hard part. How do I show my daughter that I am afraid but I am doing it anyway, without also passing on that fear to her?

As I think about the brave people that I know and want to emulate, I am struck by the fact that the people who are bravest are also the people who have been the most fearful and have had to overcome it.

But I want to be careful about passing on my fears to my daughter. So as I endeavor to exhibit bravery to her, I want to only show her those fears that I have already faced. (And then someday I can admit that many of my fears, I never could face, so maybe I’m really not that brave at all.)

So we just take each moment as it comes, each little act of bravery. And take advantage of these times when we can just talk - and I can just listen without going on a diatribe.

“Those boys aren’t braver,” I explained. “They just aren’t afraid of the same things you are! You can’t be brave if you’re not a little afraid first.”

And we left it at that. For now.

Reading, Watching, Doing, Learning - January Edition

This post begins a series of monthly posts to both fulfill my resolution of posting monthly, as well as serving as a writing exercise. 

What I’m Reading: 

• Crossroads of Twilight, Wheel of Time, book 10 (Robert Jordan)
  This is an epic fantasy series of 14 books, each about 1000 pages. But this book has been a low point and I’ve been “in the middle of it” for almost a year. I love this series and am totally invested in finishing it at this point, though!

• Come Rain or Come Shine, Mitford series, book 13 (Jan Karon)
  I’ll be honest, at this point in the series, I am listening on Audible and let myself fall asleep to it every night. I don’t miss much in this slow-moving book, but it’s sweet enough to make me think happy thoughts as I drift off to dreamland!

• The Songs of Jesus (Tim Keller)
  The devotional I’m currently using. Very brief devotions based on a few verses in the Psalms. I wish each one were more in depth, but conversely, I picked it because they are short enough for me to actually get done every day!

What I’m Watching: 

• Monk, Amazon Prime
  I’m embarrassed to admit this is not my first time re-watching the series. But it’s like comfort food to me, and I can work/crochet/fold laundry while it’s on in the background.

• The Crown, season 2, Netflix
  This is a show that I can watch with Ryan. He likes the history. I like the clothes. Win-win.

• Superstore, season 2, Hulu
  Another show to watch with Ryan. Usually he doesn’t like sitcoms (and they are my bread and butter) but at this one, we both literally LOL.

What I’m Doing: 

• Crochet hearts
  It’s that time of year when I’m winding down with the hats and looking for other crochet projects. Tiny crochet hearts take so little time to make and I just love to put them everywhere!

• Kids’ birthday gifts
  I usually try to include a handmade item for my children’s birthdays, and since their birthdays are only two weeks apart, this keeps me pretty busy in January. I am finishing a train flannel blanket for my 3yo son, and a My Little Pony pillow for my 6yo daughter.

What I’m Learning: 

• We are all broken, even if we think we have it all together. Sometimes I am horrified and embarrassed by my brokenness. Sometimes I’m proud of myself because I think I have it all together. But really I should be embarrassed when I think I have it all together, because it’s much better when I remember I’m broken. Being broken is beautiful: it’s when God can really shine through.

• I wish I could put what I’m learning into a simple bullet point that completely defines exactly what I’m thinking, but really it’s more of an amorphous blur of thoughts that keep changing. I guess that’s why I’m doing this exercise.

Goals for the month:

• Finish 3 more books.

• Finish editing my next children’s story.

 Poetry Practice:

So begins, in cold
winter, a year of goals to
blossom and bear fruit.

My Prayers for Las Vegas

This is my view as I sit cross-legged and arms outstretched in prayer for a city that has been host to such a terrible atrocity. And I am struck that two days ago, in a hotel less than a mile away, another looked down on this city, and, so filled with evil was he, that he took the lives of so many, including his own. And here I am, little old me, looking down on this city and trying to combat the darkness in my own way.

We planned this trip months ago when we learned that my husband’s promotion required him to attend a series of conferences in Las Vegas, and spouses were encouraged to attend as well. When we heard about the shooting, I thought possibly the conference would be cancelled (and secretly hoped), but no, it was still on, with increased security. So here we came to Las Vegas.

At the airport was the juxtaposition of the blaring signs and colorful advertisements, promoting anything you could possibly desire, with large black screens saying “We’ve been there for you in the good times. Thank you for standing with us in the bad. #VegasStrong” And that is the hashtag I almost used in my photo above, but something in me balked at the idea. Vegas Strong? No, the only help for Vegas, for any city, for our country, and for our world, can be found through prayer.

I do not believe it was a coincidence that brought me here, with a burning desire in my heart to pray. And not just pray, but to sit at the window and stretch out my arms, not out of the hate and evil of the man two days ago, but out of sadness and love.

Tears pour down my face as I pray for the people of this city, both visitors and residents, who have been broken by this act of evil. I pray that they will seek Jesus, the Savior and Ultimate Comforter, for healing and renewal. I pray for the people who are here that have not been broken, because they have built up such walls of hate and fear or even indifference, that God will break down those walls so that His love and transforming power can seep into their souls. I pray for the families of those who died, that they will seek and find comfort in Jesus; I pray for the wounded that they will be healed and give God the glory! I pray that the churches would rise up in love and be welcoming of every single sinner (and by that, I mean EVERYONE, including and especially myself) and say, “Come and gather with us, because we love you. Here you will find redemption and renewal through our Savior, Jesus Christ.” And finally, I have been praying for this city, that it will be transformed by this heinous act, and not by responding evil with evil, but by becoming a city that LOVES, as Christ loves his people. That people would feel the love of God like a broken dam, that floods through every seedy ally and small corners of every heart, and the city would be renewed and transformed by this love, by His power, and by His Grace.

Because I am dealing with my own insecurities while I am here, I feel an inadequate vessel to be pouring out such enormous prayers for this city. But for some reason I am here and feel this burden that I can’t seem to ignore, so I continue to pray things that I may never see answered, or may never see the impact of until I get to heaven. But for some reason, God chooses inadequate vessels, so maybe he did indeed choose me to be here for such a time as this.

I cried through Cars 3.

David in some of his Lightning McQueen gear.

I cried all the way through Cars 3. And then I came home and cried some more. My husband looked at me like I was crazy, so I decided to try to put all the feelings into words. 

I'm sure I'm not the only one whose son is a Lightning McQueen fanatic. We've been fans of his for over two years now, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. In fact, I'd say they were the happiest few years of my life. Now I am not saying it is because of Lightning McQueen, but I don't think I'll ever be able to separate my fondness for these years from Lightning McQueen. And that's the reason Cars 3 hit me right in the gut: he represents something to me.

My husband and I frequently discuss our favorite Pixar movies. His are Wall-E, Up, and Ratatouille (the worst ones, in my opinion, but by that I don't mean bad!) Mine had been Brave and The Incredibles. But then my son, David, made me watch Cars over and over and over again. And something changed. After watching it the tenth time, I really enjoyed it. After the fiftieth time, I loved it. And after the one hundredth time, it became my favorite Pixar (and probably kids' movie) of all time! How often do you hear of that happening? 

The themes of Cars and Cars 3 are both very poignant and moving. The ends of both are sweet and surprising. Not perhaps how you want them to end upon first watch, but better when you realize the message that is being sent. (And I'm not a hater of Cars 2 like most people. It's a fun side-story.)

Cars 3, though, has Lightning McQueen getting older, slower, and considering retirement. And he's not particularly happy about it. (Who is?) I found myself identifying with Lightning McQueen, as newer, younger cars began to replace him and become more relevant. And not only that, but in saying goodbye to Lightning McQueen's racing career, I found myself recognizing an end of an era: David's toddlerhood. Days I will never get back that have been so happy for me and him, as I watch him line up his Cars characters, call them his "guys", and give them all kisses. Soon, I was picturing myself an old women, seeing an old Lightning McQueen die cast toy car, and remembering all those sweet days with my little boy!

Overreaction? Yes.

But that's why I cried through Cars 3.