Only one thing

Its been a season of too many things. Another driving permit, one last 4 year old birthday party. Another long, good weekend baseball tournament and another year’s VBS in the books.  Lotsa people fed. Lots of Bible studies and youth groups.  One more cheer camp, lots more 6:30 am practices (I’m sorry. Why.) Lots of extra beloved kids, lots of visits to someone lonely or in pain, all precious.  Lots and lots of driving. 

Everyone told me this was that season, but I had no idea how much it would take to manage everyone’s camps and practices and lessons and appointments.  Some days Emma and I are more taxi drivers than anything else. A million dishwasher exchanges, a million loads of laundry exchanges, never enough time in the day. 

Lots of ships passing in the night for Matt and I. Lots of important relationships and activities by the wayside.  I have missed writing, and fall into bed completely wiped and wondering how I can possibly make it all work tomorrow.

While life had been full overflowing with so many good things, it’s been too much.  Unsustainable, and I wouldn’t want it to be our way of life, anyway. 

So here we are—after busting butt for a week to beg in every favor to cover every single spinning plate, filling the fridge, planning out every child pass off…and almost melting down at midnight with a 3:10 am alarm set—I’m off North for our annual One Mission Society board meetings. 

Life has chaosed to a place it doesn’t feel like I can possibly be gone for 3 days.  It took SO much work and time and sacrifice and friends to even go, I want to passionately promise the kids, one of whom is always hanging tearfully on my leg, I will never leave again ever again not for one hour.  

I remember once a family with six teenage kids coming to Haiti for a week, and telling me how blessed we were to have such a slow and steady and family-focused schedule.  Everyone home and at dinner every evening. No sports and lessons and entertainment pulling us all a million directions. That life in America wasn’t like that.  

I agreed with her patiently, but silently, emphatically, thought it is what you make it, sweetheart. We live like this cause we choose to, and we would in America, too.  

He reminded me that conversation when Matt and I were trying to remember the last time that all 7 of us, and only the 7 of us, had dinner together.  

I thought my boundary of “one thing per kid and church” meant we would never get to this scurried state, but I was wrong.  Turns out church is 24 times 7 if you let it….all such good and precious and important things. Turns out “one thing”, like cheer or baseball in America, is all weekend, every weekend, five weekends in a row like we just finished, though he be seven, or three days a week of practice plus clinics, camps and competitions.  Plus Lily working and her robust social calendar, plus Nora at ASL camp, which notified us at the very last moment an adult over 18 must attend every minute of with her.  

“One thing per kid plus church” doesnt include two days at the DMV for drivers tests, extra appointments at the dentist for an infected baby tooth or dropping teens for babysitting or housesitting or four kids birthdays this summer, or pets or playdates or…

Divide and conquer! Gaga encouraged me a few weeks ago….and while she is right we have divided again and again….none of this feels much like conquering.  

I hear Him gently reminding Martha only one thing is needed.  I see Emma asking me to read her the book….and cleaning up hours later after everyone’s in bed and finding it still unread on the couch.  I see Lily and Sofie both above my eye level, flying  and roller-coastering through their last months in our home, and hear Him urging me not to miss my disciples. I see myself, trying to fill a water bottle at the fridge with one hand while emptying the dishwasher with the other while listening to Ben talk about his birthday wish list and knowing this is stretched beyond His good.  

He reminded me gently at the altar on Sunday that I’ve grown far too exhausted to get up before the house and start with Him and His Word, living instead off snatches of It in four minute intervals throughout the day.  Though He’s reminded me before. Though I’ve promised and affirmed and known the habit’s sweetness and sustaining power. 

All this said, He also gave me an incredibly challenging and painful and sacrificial opportunity last week to shut my mouth and captive my thoughts and TRUST Him, really trust Him.  And I DID, perhaps mostly out of insufficient bandwidth, and on the other side of a dark week, He was faithful. And is redeeming it. Truly. Clearly. In front of my eyes.  

Last time I tried to fix it and control it for Him and created a terrible and long-lasting mess.  This time, I saw Him free-handedly do His miraculous work on hearts, in a matter of days, because I truly trusted Him. 

The circumstance of seeing Him at work poked me with Greg Benson’s ever prodding question, What is God trying to teach you? 

One, that my frustration and disappointment with myself over letting us get here is only beneficial in that it points me to Him….not to beat me up or keep us stuck.  His mercies new every morning, even this 3 am one, are what I need, and a new start, which He is always ready to give, only upon us asking for it.  Whatever you’re beating yourself up over, repent and be forgiven and put your eyes back on Him and go again. 

Two, that when we are certain the earth cannot spin without all our efforts, we have become the god. Our kids the idol. Our events. Our MORE.  Bankrupt. He is the one and only thing we cannot afford to disappoint, cannot afford to rush by, the only One whose efforts are enough and full. 

I’m learning that sometimes disappointing our kids and others and even ourselves is the lesser cost.  Every single YES costs something, and if we don’t guard and be prayerful in our yesses, we will be paying for it in ways that don’t satisfy, that don’t have eternal value, and that aren’t building His kingdom, that aren’t filling us with Himself.  

Maybe I was right when I judged my friend, that our days and schedules and family rhythms and priorities ARE what we make it. But I knew nothing about the pressures of this culture for and in our kids, in our lives….or how hard we’d have to fight. 

Last weekend Ben had a big final tournament game Sunday morning in Starkville.  After several Saturday games, we packed Ben up and brought him home Saturday night for Sunday morning church.  We totally let his team, his coaches, and the other parents down….we were reminded.  The FOMO in me was already writhing, but when the other first baseman woke up super sick and hospitalized Sunday morning, and Ben was not there to play the bag, it almost killed me.  Letting them down and missing out almost killed me. 

We can’t miss church for baseball, I kept telling myself, telling Ben. After all, this is Matt’s job! 

NO. 

His gracious, still small voice instantly corrected me.  I and my commands are not your job. They are your priority. 

I am learning that our true priority is not in what we say it is. I can say dinner together as a family is my priority all I want. That Sunday morning community worship is. That my marriage is. That my time with Him is. 

But if we can’t remember the last time it happened, if we skip it for a play game, if I lose it for a frantic packed schedule, if I’m too doggone exhausted for it… My eyes are not upon Him, and He is NOT my true God and King and Lord. 

I have settled for idols when I have the true and mighty God after me! I have led my family in bankrupt ways when His is better and the only way that satisfies. I have missed the one thing needed when the world told me it was 100 things. Swings and misses I cannot afford. 

Luke 10:38-42

Martha and Mary

[38] Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. [39] And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. [40] But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” [41] But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, [42] but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

not finished

I good cried three times today. Which is not normal. Especially on a day like today. 

I have been spread super thin the last few days. And today was the grande finale. 

Ben had a double header tournament in Clinton (30 minutes). Matt was the graduation speaker for the Salvation Army in Atlanta (and got to see his nephew play ball in Atlanta the night before!) Lily had work, 9-6. Sofie has been in Starkville (2 hours away) all week for cheer camp and 11 am was the showcase, competition and noon, I was to bring home 10 cheerleaders. 

I tried and tried and couldn't figure out how to make it work. My help committed weeks ago to take Ben to his tournament had to cancel on Thursday. I felt strongly I needed to do the Sofie portion...haven't even seen girly since before her bday, and Sofie is often the least needy one and therefore missed. Gaga Beth is on a women's retreat. Roommate Hannah is over-piled and couldn't make it work. 

All day Wednesday I was squidgy.  How did we get in this situation? We have followed the "only one thing per person" rule to a T, and yet "only one thing each" and nothing for Emma but tagalong is still too many things. These ages are full! What am I doing wrong? How can I do more? How can I fix this? How can I plan this thing out?

Wednesday evening, unable, I was mad.  

WHY does every person out there have family...grandparents five minutes away dying to go to baseball games or to keep littles while Mom runs to cheer camps. LOOK at all the ways my kids are missing out. Why does everyone have family and we never have family! You can't just ask people who AREN'T family to bear 100 degree heat and driving an hour and watching baseball games for kids not their own! You can't just ask people to watch your 3 and 10 year old for SEVEN hours on Saturday morning at 8 am.

Then I got sad. Cried myself to sleep Wednesday night. I miss my sister, SO fun and good to do life with and haven't gotten to do it. Ever.  I miss my parents, who would LOVE these stages and balance out teenage hormones and help invest in these dear ones. Help make these busy ages of five different directions WORK.

I woke up Thursday morning sour and complaining to the Lord. 

I can't do this by myself. I don't want to let my kids down. I can't do it all. My very best is NOT cutting it. 

WHY don't we have family for times like this?

As soon as I said it, He raised His eyebrows at me. 

I saw Him. Amused.

Have you asked the family I have given you?

That still, unexpected small voice was precise and clear and transforming.

It instantly silenced my previous urge to remind Him games were hot and the day was long and people were busy and He didn't give us any biological family within 800 literal miles. You know, all the reasons I had came up with not to ask. I hate asking for help. I hate not being able to help myself. 

Immediately our Tuesday night small-ish group came to my mind. 

A friend said once that the best thing about kids is that when they know what to do, they don't stop and think about why they shouldn't or couldn't do it....they DO it. She says not to "adult" things into disobedience or slowness to obey. Faith like a child. 

So I moved on His raised eyebrow. 

Texted my busy small group, explained the situation, asked if anyone could help. Sent it before I deleted it.

A few precious mamas juggling equal number of kids equal number of places offered to try to help where they could...but they really couldn't. They had about 11 free minutes. But love us too much to leave me hanging. 

Not you   came instant to my mind. 

Not you   I texted them back.   Love you, but not you. 

And then He sent us just what I needed. 

A neighbor with two girls asked if Nora and Emma could go to the pool with them Saturday. 

Then Miss Piggy, as the kids call her, jumped on it. 

The weather and Ben and the games work for me. 

Peggy usually has happy, quiet, beautiful chaos-free adventures on her bike on Saturdays. 

Love looks like sacrifice. Sacrifice, love.

Count me in, what color do I wear? jumped in my dear friend Carlene.

Classic Scott and Susan next with a We are dad-gum excited, Hey batter, batter, SWING! Let's go!

Within minutes I had all three littles and two people for each of Ben's warm-ups and games covered. People he knows. People we love. People who didn't hem and haw or complain or agree with reluctance.

People who made sacrifice sound like a gift. People who acted like...family.

Which instantly made all my 48 hours of squidgyness, emotion, frustration, helplessness and stubbornness feel SO...wasteful. Untrusting. Stupid.

When will I learn the Emma-lesson? Crying for 9 months about a baby that was NOT a good gift and NOT good timing....only to hold the BEST and most PERFECT timing gift every single day since? Wasted nine months instead of TRUSTING Him. That His gifts are good ones. That He knows better.

His gifts are good ones. His example is sacrificial love. And He knows better...and never intended for us to do it ourselves. 

Carlene showed up at 7:30 am with breakfast sandwiches and a red hat, and she and Peggy took Ben and his gear at 7:45 am this morning. My eyes were dripping as they pulled away, because the little man in the backseat was happy and brave and growing and waving and off and loved, not just by me. Because Peggy and Carlene hugged me like it was a GIFT to help, not a burden. Because they sent me videos of him hitting and base running and in every one, I can hear their voices cheering him on. Ben could hear them cheering him on. I cried because they don't have grandkids...but Ben has them.

Scott and Susan traded them out for game two, and brought Ben his favorite snacks mama don't buy him, cheered him on so loud he was laughing and kept me updated from cheer-central.  They were his cool aunt and uncle, and never once did he say, "It was fine, but I wish you and dad were there." He just had fun and was watched and cheered and loved, and he knew it. He loved it. I cried when he called me later, telling me all about his fun day and how loved on he had been.

Our neighbors had four girls all day to their normal two, and loved it. Made cobbler, did puzzles, played in the sprinkler. Got to watch the game on tv because their two were fully entertained by our two. 

When competition for 500 cheerleaders, Sonic for 10 cheerleaders and four hours on the road was completed (the last two hours much louder than the first) and my Sofie girl finally back and now 15, all my kids were playing, happy, home, loved, blessed. 

I cried when I watched Sofie in the pyramid, Sofie who is trying to figure it all out and you can see the heaviness on her shoulders and spirit and on her sparkle. She is NOT my girl. She is HIS. She doesn't NEED my plans. The Lord has PLANS for this girl. Good gifts. He's at work in her. He is not done. Her cheer coach reminded me in the middle of the arena that instead of fretting over the places I worry about in her life, PRAY them down.

My mom didn't get see His plans for my sister and my's life past Lisa-16. Past Lily and Sofie's age. I am there, I am where mom was when she finished. 

I pray He gives me lots of years to watch what He's doing in these kids.

I have no promise of that. 

But I got to watch what He's doing today. And every single time I've done all I can do...He has not.

What He's doing is a lot bigger than me. And He's not finished. And clearly not finished teaching ME. 

Praise the Lord.

Instead of worry, instead of complaining over what you do not have...

Ask Him.  See what He says. 

And do it.

waste

 Last week, Ben went to spend the night with some dear friends of ours. He and their sons started before 7 am for a full day of all-boy fun...street hockey, basketball, bandits, nerf guns...they did it all. Ben never runs out of energy, and he, George and John Stuart were soaking it all up. Told me he wasn't coming home for a million nights. 

Till Morgan.

Their dear family friend had just been on mission in Spain, and he popped in that afternoon, at Morgan's invitation, to show all the family some pictures from his trip and to tell them about the work. About 15 minutes. Lily said it was awesome. 

Ben, however, was dying. 

Mom, he groaned dramatically on the way home, we only had a little bit of time (like 24 hours :) and Ms. Morgan made us WASTE hours of our time looking at PICTURES. We just only had time for the best things, and it totally wasted so many minutes!

I laughed at him and ruffed his hair, but it wasn't until Sunday school the Lord brought the conversation back to my mind. 

We were studying the Great Commission, Matthew 28, getting ready for Trinity Sunday. Jesus told the eleven to go and make disciples, ad baptize them, and teach them what He had taught them, and that He would be with them, always. Always, to the end of the age. 

Out of nowhere, the Lord brought back to me so many hardships, so many difficult seasons, so many dark times in my own life...times I was forced to spend doing hard days I didn't want to do, times, I realized Sunday morning, I often thought were wasted. Survival seasons. Kicking and screaming seasons. Even too-quiet seasons, ones I often turned to myself, where I forgot the Lord was there. 

Here the Lord God Almighty, King Jesus, sitting on the throne, promises He is and has been, absolutely, with me always...such richness. Such a bulwark of strength and peace and power. I have had access to the mighty God my whole life, all my days...and so many times I have wasted almost unaware of His presence. How much time have I wasted walking as if I was walking alone, carrying burdens as if they were mine, pouring out of my own strength when HIS is SITTING there waiting for me.

Our abiding awareness of Him should continually push itself to the forefront of our lives. Many seasons have I wasted, not obsessed with God. 

How often I run and go about our busy lives, living almost unaware of His mighty promise of presence! No hardship, no season, no discomfort, no sacrifice, no challenge has He wasted...but how many moments I have, forgetting or overlooking the most important thing : God is with me and has made in EVERY moment the possibility to walk with Him, talk with Him, receive from Him, pour Him out. In every moment of my life He has given me full-access to Himself, and I have often settled for much less. 

May we not waste our time thinking we are alone. 

a few meanderings with grief

May 25th. 

The day Mom died. Every year. 

It feels different, every year. 

I never really know how to plan or what to expect. 

Some years we eat strawberries. or Twizzlers. Sometimes I buy purple flowers and sit them firmly on the table, middle of life and quiet and fragrant. Sometimes I tell the kids stories I've already told them, things I remember. Sometimes I don't tell the kids at all, but sit in the sunshine. 

Sometimes it's a beautiful, grateful day with a few pinches.

Sometimes it's one at sea, rocking, grasping at a place to plant my feet. 

The last many years, I try to give grace. Find grace. Sit in grace. Allow grace. Invite it. 

Acts 11:23 says that when Barnabas came and saw the grace of God, he was glad, and exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose. 

And in my search for grace in grieving, He never lets me miss two things.

Mom's best friend, Mary. Her birthday is May 25th, and every single birthday May 25th, she texts or messages me. Short messages. She loved my mother. My mother loved us. She was a joy of a friend. My mother would be proud. This year was Mary's first birthday without her beloved husband, but she reminded us anyway what a gift in her life our mom was. 

It always reminds me of the richness.

Two, that woman we all call Aunt Sharon, though we don't look like her and she never met my mom. 

The first many times we met her in Haiti, she loved on our girls as one who also grew up in Haiti. As she invited us into her family and church and we got to know her better and more frequently, she became a symbol of unmerited grace and family in our lives.  Family has to be your family. They're supposed to show up. They're supposed to sacrifice. They're supposed to care about you. They're supposed to want to spend time with your kids.  But Sharon isn't family. And as she has spent 15 years now doing those things anyway..and I'll never forget the year, the struggle-y May 25th when I realized Aunt Sharon's birthday was the same day.

How in the world--all those years ago when Mom was praying that the Lord would fill the gaps she was leaving with His grace--how was there Sharon, of all the days, celebrating her life on the day we mourn? 

The "coincidence" catches me EVERY year. It's HIM.

It's so Him to remind us in our darkest, most painful places of His grace and light and good gifts. 

His heart breaks with us. He feels the loss with us. And He is still in the middle, bringing grace. 

This week my girls are caring for Betsy's home and dogs and mail while her widower and children travel, trying to find footing, trying to stop the weary, violent spinning of loss. Every time Lily heads out the door  to take care of "the girls" as Betsy always called her beloved pups, my heart pangs. I MISS her, our friend. I ache for her dear ones.  My girls say it's happy to be near Betsy by being in her space...but I don't think I could step in the house yet, empty of Betsy...a woman who filled every space so fully and with such warmth. She was the easiest woman to cherish. Lord filled Betsy and flowed her out as fully and faithfully as the tides. 

My dad used to come when Matt travelled. Sometimes he came all the way to Haiti, sometimes he'd come and help with the girls. He would knock everything off my house fix-it list, often groaning over the "Stacey fixes" I had done until he came again, and he always found at least six more things to fix.  He knew we were ok when Matt was gone, but he felt better when he was a part of us being ok, and I did too. I cherish those times that felt unnecessary then and so much like LOVE now.

Matt left a few days ago for teaching and conference, and I immediately jumped into fix-its. Despite having more on my plate without his help, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do house projects. When he was in Africa in October I painted our entire bedroom and hung shelves and pictures, and yesterday I spent an hour at Lowe's with kids in tow, asking employees things I used to ask Dad. 

I wasn't even thinking about him, going over paint chips with Emma picking out pinks. The color I needed to match the color the kitchen trim came in was a creamy, yellowish white. I matched it.  Mayonnaise. 

There was no chance on earth I was sanding, caulking and repainting the scuffed, peeling baseboards with mayonnaise. Don't care if it matched or not. 

I scanned all the chips and pulled out Swiss Coffee. Swiss Coffee is a white for a Stacey kitchen. 

And I swear, standing there at Lowe's--subconsciously doing without dad what I always did WITH dad when Matt traveled--I had the most acute and sudden awareness of him.

My engineer father would NEVER have allowed for such foolish picking of paint.

And as I headed out into the sunshine with Swiss Coffee, I could hear him sigh and see him shake his head and run his hand through thick salt and pepper hair, the hair mom had always said she was waiting for, and I threw my head back and laughed out loud.

My dad loved me. And shook his head at me. And taught me so much. And didn't know what to do with me. And showed up for me. And was a really good father. 

And grief, yesterday, instead of hitting unexpectedly all I have lost hit out of absolutely nowhere everything I have had. 

A praying gift of a mom I didn't see or appreciate or love well at all the last three years of her life. Who gave me grace as she was dying, anyway. 

An unmerited grace of a woman the kids and I all text first when we celebrate and when we panic and when we mourn. 

An enduring gift of a father who was wise and careful and generous and set on the narrow road.

And a mayonnaise-coffee combo of a kitchen for Matt to come back to.

I have seen the grace of God and am glad, and I exhort you to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose. 

Grief and broken and loss is just but another moment more.

only one spoon

A few months ago, the Lord sent an old friend and his family to our church, very clearly to hold up Matt's hands and bring him help! It has been so sweet to see God see us, with Jeremy, his wife and son coming alongside in lots of ways, always ready to help and pray. 

Jeremy is the chaplain at the prison I wrote about not long ago, and since we took that group from our church, Matt has been going every other week, bringing different Bible studies, friends, and church members to help serve the prisoners and Jeremy.  The friendships are becoming relationships, the discipleship growing deeper, and while Jeremy is always coming alongside Matt at church, the Lord's given Matt a true joyful burden to come alongside Jeremy in jail.

This past week Matt took his Thursday morning Bible study of men in their 60's-80's for "roundtable"...an in-depth Bible study, reflection, application and prayer time that Jeremy holds in his office with new and growing believers in the prison.

At one point Jeremy and the men were talking about sanctification, and Jeremy asked Matt if he had anything to add. Matt joyfully shared with me that night how the Holy Spirit had helped him, how they talked about holiness, about anger, and about Jesus not only for salvation and freedom from our sins, but also for freedom in our daily lives. 

He said the conversation was vibrant and transparent and transformative, and shared what a gift it was to have these two group of men together with he and Jeremy, study God's truth for ALL of us, in ALL circumstances.

As they were getting ready to leave, unsure if he had unintentionally taken over the roundtable session too much from Jeremy, Matt caught a minute with him, making sure all was well and that Jeremy had not been slighted or felt over-run in any way.

Brother, Jeremy joyfully assured him, I have hundreds of hungry prisoners, and I only have one spoon.  PLEASE help me feed them. 

I don't know why that's caught my attention so this week.

One, because it reminds me it's ALL HIS WORK. There is no room in His work for jealously, for competition, for territory-claiming, for "my" ministry, for pushing and pulling.  Jeremy KNOWS it's God's work, not his and is happy and humble and grateful to share it. 

Two, because it's what I really mean when I say it takes a village. 

Do I love you seeing my messy home? Do I worry about what my teenage daughter might complain to you about? Do I want to be honest about needing help? Do I risk sharing my true heart? 

maybe. 

But I have a LOTTA mouths to feed in my life, and I only have one spoon.

I only have one spoon. I'm only accountable for the one spoon I have. And I need help!

It's caught my attention because I think Jeremy's way is His. 

My life is but one spoon. And the world is so incredibly hungry. 

I have an eternal source of Daily Bread and Living Water and our world is hungry and thirsty and we're not called to be feasters. Not called to be sponges. 

We're spoons. 

And we've gotta serve together. 

How sweet and rich it is to serve together. It is the only way. 

Random Week Lessons

Goodness friends! I've written four sentences of a post 11 times the past two weeks and either it has been constant interruptions (which is a pretty normal thing but seems a little overboard incessant lately) or heavy feels that I thought I was ready to process/write about and kept getting stuck.

My random list of life lessons this week to get moving again.

1) The Bible is where it's at. 

There's a lot of words out there. A lotta thoughts. A lot of experiences, a lot of worldly wisdom, a lot of emotions. It is utterly overwhelming...and then there is His Word, alive, convicting precisely, abounding in grace, truth to wrap your life around, there is HOPE. Everytime I've been buried and shaken, there has been His Word.  

Someone told Matt this past week that while they SEE what it says in the Word, that just hasn't been there experience, so they're not accepting it. Listen, we can't be experience people. If our experience, our feelings, our ideas are not lining up with His Word, GUESS which is off?

May we lay down our own EVERYTHING as wrong, deceived, misled, weak, lesser and cling to the truth of His unshakeable kingdom before we live our lives based on our own perspective. One of the glorious freedoms of following Jesus is not being stuck in our own thoughts, emotions and experiences...but able to cling to HIS life-giving, hope-giving, foundational truth.  

If you're worried, paranoid, depressed, anxious, hopeless, angry, bitter, conflicted today...the Bible is where it's at. Get in there. Let Him write it on the tablets of your heart. 

2) Raising teens is fun if you want someone to think you're the dumbest human alive while simultaneously needing your help to do anything. 

Pretty self-explanatory. The Lord hears me talking about these four girls more than anything else these days and I love them deeply, pray for them constantly, and also am not having a lot of fun.  As I am always reminding Ben, "Life isn't always about having fun."

Ben is still always having fun.

3) Don't tell me it doesn't take a village. 

I think sometimes we get frustrated that we don't have the PERFECT village, but I assure you that isn't what it takes. You don't have to have family to have a village. You don't have to have perfect people to have a village. And you can decide the villages are disappointing or too much work, and withdraw completely and MISS all the sweetest stuff of life. 

But it takes a village. 

Let go of having the perfect village, just as WE are not the perfect village, and go for the passionate village. The present village. The gracious village. The hilarious village. The humble village. The benefit of the doubt village. Show UP for others, even in weird ways, and let them show up for you, even in imperfect ways.

One of my inner circle friends asked if I wanted a ride to something this week. I didn't need a ride. But what I got was 15 rare minutes alone with someone I love, and when we arrived at the social situation a little earlier than her introverted self could handle, I even got kidnapped to drive around the neighborhood for a while :) I got to hear her heart, and share her mine, and all the culture of the supremacy of convenience and efficiency is an idol.  BE a good friend. Let others see and love you well. SHARE the painful stuff, the embarrassing stuff, the honest stuff...invite people over to messy houses and people, and may we GROW.

4) Don't be discouraged where He is not. 

OK, He's been working me through this lately. Somedays I think I was born to be a pastors wife. I love this flock fiercely. I pray for them continually. I carry them heavily. And when one of them wanes or wanders, when one of them cools in the love they once had or settles for less than the richness and freedom of Christ, ooooooof. 

It is SO painful. I carry it so heavily. So personally. If I could will the world to obedience and faith and freedom, I would!

But as I was pouring tears and praying this week for a few specific people, I told the Lord that I was so discouraged.  

Do you think you care for them more than I do? Do you think you know how they should acting better than I do?  Do you think it's against YOU they are struggling? Do you think I am discouraged --without courage-- over them?

No. Surely the Lord, His heart for them far bigger than mine, was not without courage, was not sigh-y and weep-y. 

Give me what is mine and be strong and courageous.

Bigger oooof.  I am working to shift into a strong and courageous prayer warrior instead of a helpless, disappointed one. Is that not what the church needs far more? A praying woman who believes He is at work, that He is after His people and that is strong in HIM?

5) Go. To. Church.

When you're mad at God. When you're disappointed. When you're tired. When you're busy. When you're weary. When you're heartbroken. 

Miss a meal. Miss an outing. Miss an episode. 

But don't miss church. Go crying. Go ugly. Go messy. Go unrepentant. Go disappointed. Go angry. But GO. 

THIS is how, when we have NO idea of His purpose, we entrust ourselves to God's hands. Show up.  He will, too. And while us showing up may feel insignificant, God showing up NEVER is.

Never sympathize with someone who finds it difficult to get to God; God is not to blame. It is not for us to figure out the reason for the difficulty, but only to present the truth of God so that the Spirit of God will reveal what is wrong. When the truth is preached, the Spirit of God brings each person face-to-face with God Himself. O Chambers

6) Don't Think About It. Do the thing.  

The person you've wondered several times now if they must be needing some help...HELP THEM. Give them a Kroger card. Drop them some groceries. Slip them some money. Mail them a note. Give them a Bible.  Stop thinking about it.  I am confident one of the reasons Jesus speaks so highly of children is that they are not yet plagued with adult overthinking. When the spirit nudges, they obey. 

There are people in your specific life right now that the Spirit IS urging you to SAY something, DO something, ASK something, PRAY something, and we allow uncertainty, discomfort, awkwardness, possible offense to totally neglect the spirit. No matter how dumb it looks, seems, sounds, feels...DO IT...and you will find that that still, small voice speaks a little louder next time instead of fading out completely.

7) Mother's Day is hard. Do it anyway.  

Desperately wish you mom was still here to mail the card to? Cry in the card aisle and pick it anyway. Buy it anyway. Mail it anyway. Give it to someone else in her memory. Give it to Jesus and put it in a drawer. Buy the flowers and hand them to a mama who seems to have her hands full.  Tell someone, tell everyone you see, something beautiful about YOUR mom. Talk about her.  I saw an adorable strawberry mug yesterday that my mom would have loved, and brought it home for her.

It's a complicated relationship? Do something sweet and pure and uncomplicated and simple, and give it to Jesus through her, no expectations. 

Grieving this Mother's Day? He sees every tear and knows every agony and longs to be our hope and comfort. Cry through church, cry through lunch, talk about it. Tell someone. Share in the pain and share in the comfort. Eyes on Jesus.

Your kids and husband miss it, or get it wrong, or miss you completely? Satan will absolutely use our allowed self-pity to ruin our day...week....life. O Chambers says that self-pity is of the devil, and if we wallow in it we cannot be sued by God for His purpose in the world. Look at the richness of His gifts around you, look to Him, get in His Word, count His faithfulnesses, and love them well.

Take all the gaps of Mother's Day, and force yourself to look instead to how He has filled them...He sees us, often Rahab in the dessert, and hears. He sees you.

Some celebrate, some cry in the shadows, and God sees in the shadows. He carries our losses more than we do. His heart is for us in our ache, and He is NEAREST in our painful places.

Be weak on Mother's Day, and reminded that He is strong and to be run to.  All of our losses are deeply known and sheltered in Him. All of our losses will one day be made as if they NEVER were. 

Love you. God has used many of YOU in many seasons to be women, moms, aunts, prayer warriors, and grandmas in our lives. 

bumper prayers

I have been waiting for the phone call while trying not to wait for the phone call.

Lily is the best girl in all the world. And she drives WAY TOO CLOSE to the car in front of her.  Way. Always. No matter what.

I have said it 67 thousand times.

Not enough stopping distance.

Lily. 45 mph means 4.5 car lengths. 

Girl. The truck should be able to SEE you in his rear view.

STOPPING DISTANCE.

She don't care. In fact, I'm preeettty sure we're at that place of, the more I say it, the closer she is following.

(Mom. I know this was me. I'm sorry for all I put you through. I was a punk.)

I finally had to stop.  She gonna have a car accident. She gonna have to deal with it. Lord, protect her despite her.

Most of you know this...the prayers and challenges of the toddler years don't come CLOSE to the launching years. You're begging for lives, survival AND for sanity, nowadays. 

So Monday night, I'm driving home from church with Sofie, Kid's Volunteer dinner and training complete, and Matt calls me.

You almost home? Lily hit the car in front of her on the way home from work. I gotta go.

I pulled in, he pulled out, I head up to the littles to pray for Lily and to usher in sleep.  

And I'm MAD.

I've told her a million times. Her van is MY VAN. Her life, MY HEART.

And I'm scared.

What if she's not ok, or they're not ok?

And I'm emotional.

Lily called, Matt was coming. She has a good and present father, just like I did, and I miss him.

And I'm worried.

Insurance is already SO MUCH. We can't afford it going up!  She's gonna PAY for it, when it does.

And I'm fighting.

My littles don't need anything at bedtime but His peace. 

By the time they get home, the house is quiet and the Lord has helped me. She comes up to the little's room right away and hugs me for a long time, quiet. She looks whole. 

When I come downstairs, He reminds ME to be quiet and just listen. Let Him talk to her about the things she won't hear about. Let her talk to me without any hint of I told you so.

She tells me the story, rattling a thousand words a minute and me almost missing His thing in the middle.

...so while we're all standing there waiting for the police and it's dark and I'm so shook up and I can see that even though they're fifty or sixty, they're really shook up too, and so I ask them if I can pray for all of us, and they tell me I can. So on the side of the road I pray for all of us, and when I'm done, my hands had stopped shaking and they had stopped shaking and everything just shifted.  They started to be kind and calm and I felt a lot more calm, and then the police got there, and...

After it all, I pray over her and she goes to bed, and I'm left sitting with Him.

It is not normal that a 17 year old girl has her first car accident, and stands on the road in the dark praying boldly and openly for and with the stranger couple that she hit.

I would not have done that. Not today at 43, prayer my passion.

Oh, I would have been praying. But not with my hands on the shoulders of the strangers shook and angry. Not out loud. Not simple bold. Not like that. Quiet and urgent and inward.

Who does that?

I always tell young people to look for the thing inside of them that's weird, that feels normal but is NOT normal to anyone else...because that's how I found His calling on my life.

Terribly planned missions trip...sleeping on the floor, not enough food, not enough translators, overwhelming orphanage....everyone was miserable and wanted to go home...and I was alive like I had never been, hungry like I had never been, satisfied like I had never been. What was weird in me was what HE had placed there.

And here is my girl, debating the Muslim faith and pointing to Jesus with her nail tech the day of prom, getting in tiffs at school over what the Bible says vs. what everyone wants to believe culturally, getting in car accidents alone at night and praying boldly for all involved without even thinking about it. 

The Lord has a plan and a calling for Lily's life, and this girl might just be the Jim and Elisabeth Elliot I have always prayed she would be...bold, abandoned, ready to go, ready to obey, ready to preach.

And far more than her stubborn driving...I care about her heart. And in the moments when it matters most...hers is His.  

Teary days. 

Giving our people again and again and again to Him.  

Overlooking bumpers and fears and spilt sugar (another story for another day) and looking to Him.

Trusting Him, sight unseen.