tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20480277352937297362024-03-27T19:53:23.725-04:00the ayars affairsempowering leaders and proclaiming Light for His change in HaitiStacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.comBlogger3212125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-33452981839395791642024-03-27T08:50:00.002-04:002024-03-27T08:50:39.173-04:00Easter roads<p>It has been such a busy week with church work and ministry and, you know, kiddos..., and suddenly it's Wednesday and the kids and I are heading to North Carolina. </p><p>Every year post Haiti we have met my dad and his wife, and my sister and her family somewhere in the middle for Easter. Last year we sorely missed dad, and this year, with Matt being Pastor Matt this season, Matt can't join us. So, the seven and I will head to Atlanta tonight and on to Nebo, North Carolina the next day for four short days with Cindy, Lisa and Adam, and the cousins. </p><p>Easter week as pastor and wife has proved to include a lot of extra services and planning, bulletins and social media posts, orders of worship and Bible studies. I truly hate missing Easter weekend here with both of our precious churches, but we will cherish this rare time with family!</p><p>Packing and transporting seven kiddos 9+ hours is not for the faint of heart, and the last 24 hours I've been hit with a nasty cold, so I'd love your extra prayers. Cute pictures to come, and if you are in the Mississippi area, get to one of these gonna-be-so-good services! Matt is teaching them each. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DLWK6Ed93fCLu1uVXPiMV5M9xCeFSGDXaqoDWQW7uZMRnRqQnWGtJJQDNx1bH8rzWwco9WLHk49s2b3Z8GRUju5HKlSjoa_Hc_xpSiYRdW68Pa7xLzJHq0cParzAjCG-iXTBP-n2J4FHpGi_Bp4kGcfGfnW1rWdB839KUcyX9pnJgkpmUMFTM-z-6pPx/s600/433263266_122169285650068297_428704696506258150_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="600" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DLWK6Ed93fCLu1uVXPiMV5M9xCeFSGDXaqoDWQW7uZMRnRqQnWGtJJQDNx1bH8rzWwco9WLHk49s2b3Z8GRUju5HKlSjoa_Hc_xpSiYRdW68Pa7xLzJHq0cParzAjCG-iXTBP-n2J4FHpGi_Bp4kGcfGfnW1rWdB839KUcyX9pnJgkpmUMFTM-z-6pPx/w432-h361/433263266_122169285650068297_428704696506258150_n.jpeg" width="432" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-66996689952688542702024-03-22T14:54:00.006-04:002024-03-22T14:59:09.272-04:00always<p>Anyone else so heavy on Haiti?</p><p>It's not Haiti killing me. It's Jean-Sius, and Leme and baby Yasha, it's Tati Gertha and Junior and our students at Emmaus. It's not the country, it's the people, and what in the world are they supposed to do?</p><p>"Stand up, Haiti" I keep seeing staff and students pushing on FB, and she's trying. Everyone we know is trying to stand up on shaky legs, trying to push forward, trying to pull their hungry children behind them. </p><p>They're being cut down, those standing up and those sitting and those quiet and orphaned and widowed. </p><p>If we're only talking of man's justice, there. is. none. There is none. The blood of many cries out.</p><p>If we're only talking of hope the media can report on, it is beyond hopeless. Beyond late. Beyond not enough.</p><p>If we're only talking about the weapons man sees, standing up is both futile and dangerous. </p><p>Matt was teaching last night's Bible study from Psalm 113, where I have had long written "Haiti" in the margins, the Lord, high above all the nations, stooping down to the lowest low to lift up those on the ash heaps, to raise the poor from the dust.</p><div><i>Blessed be the name of the Lord, from today and forevermore, <br /></i><i>from the rising of the sun to the setting, <br /></i><i>the name of the Lord is to be praised. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I spent this morning doing the sacred and timely task of translating student testimonies, and one first-year student's report stood out to me.</div><div><br /></div><div>He shared his prayers, for a desperate family and community situation, and then shared his praises. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>I praise the Lord</i>, he said, <i>because I closed my eyes last night, and I opened my eyes this morning. Praise the Lord!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>I haven't been home in a long time, and have naturally faded thinking and praying like my Haitian family. <span style="font-size: x-small;">It saddens me.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Is praising the Lord because we rise with the sun and set with it only a praise for desperate people, fighting for survival? </b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Or is it a psalm like 113, entitled "Who Is Like the Lord Our God"? Is it simply a psalm like 113 saying, <i>ALWAYS. Praising always. Not because this. Because HIM.</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>All my own things bringing me low today, all of Americas, all of Haitis...<i>The Lord is high above, his glory above the heavens. Who is like Him? Seated on high. Looking down. Raising the poor. Lifting the needy, making us sit with princes. Giving the barren woman a home. making us joyous.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe we don't need to stand up today. Maybe we're too tired. Maybe we're too heavy. Maybe it's too dangerous. Maybe it makes no difference.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe somedays we need to just praise Him where we are.</div><div><br /></div><div>We closed our eyes last night. </div><div>We opened them, grace, today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Almighty God, above even the heavens, isn't like any of any of this, Haiti. Not at all, family.</div><div><br /></div><div>He looks far down, bottom.</div><div><br /></div><div>And He raises.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_deo_84vQzZndIQESHrToJgkSDeIRH-n32TEq9t9y0_j-mXXXktcSg2WNHZgFVVFVrQbjKvtzGSy5l2pcZM9v-GVkntLVlWgWozvZuvMvI9V4S9qKFmV1wwYcosREMUSX1vkHa7I-IVfSZXusBbMX-98i9one-yPFI8MoTm9rkST-bEmu1zxJi1Y_Uef6/s1024/prayers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_deo_84vQzZndIQESHrToJgkSDeIRH-n32TEq9t9y0_j-mXXXktcSg2WNHZgFVVFVrQbjKvtzGSy5l2pcZM9v-GVkntLVlWgWozvZuvMvI9V4S9qKFmV1wwYcosREMUSX1vkHa7I-IVfSZXusBbMX-98i9one-yPFI8MoTm9rkST-bEmu1zxJi1Y_Uef6/w300-h400/prayers.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>You can <a href="https://myemail.constantcontact.com/the-redemption-of-Haiti.html?soid=1116926365745&aid=mg_R8C8OoGQ" target="_blank">read Dr. Guenson's recent take here</a>. Please keep praying for and supporting our family in Haiti, with us. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-69544114052186250062024-03-19T15:27:00.002-04:002024-03-19T15:27:24.676-04:00broken dreams and the Lord's ok.<p>The Lord's been helping me face something the last few weeks, and I'm thankful always for you to help me work through it. </p><p>Even the expression "broken dreams" has always been cheesy to me. Who has time for dreams when there is work to be done? Who after 15 is chasing after dreams, anyway? We're not ours, but His, and it's always been my goal to be used by Him, His way, and I guess I've never spent much time thinking about what MY dreams are.</p><p>Even if you'd asked me years ago, 20, what my dream was, I would have said, "Whatever God has for me!" and I would have been true, and satisfied with that. </p><p>So when a few weeks ago, a song came on my phone I'd never heard before while I was brushing my teeth and I started unexpectedly bawling, tears pouring with my toothpaste, I was so confused about that that was all about. I cried myself to sleep, still trying to work through why that song hit so hard, and realized kind of sheepishly a few days later that the lyrics went straight after a dream I hadn't realized I even had, that has since been shattered.</p><p><i>For example.</i> I never would have said, ever, that one of my dreams was to have parents past my 40's. Never at 20 or even 35 would I have said, "It's my dream to have my future kiddos know my parents."</p><p>But now they don't, I painfully realize that that WAS a dream I had. That <i>was </i>a desire I always had for my life, of course it was! My mom and dad in my life today, in the lives of my children...of course that is a dream I had! And I didn't even realize I had it until it was broken...and in moments when that brokenness stings so badly.</p><p>It's why when Ben flops into bed at night and says, "I wish Grumpa could come to my baseball game," it springs instant tears to my eyes. Yes, because I miss Grumpa, too, but more, because I wish that more than just about anything for my boy, and yet it is not possible. That dream is gone and broke. Can't fix it. Isn't getting fixed this life.</p><p>The song that brought me down a few weeks ago spoke boldly of a dream I hadn't even realized I had but of <i>course</i> I did, and now it is broke and can't be fixed. It is a broken dream, nothing I can do.</p><p><i>So what, Lord, do I do with this? </i>I've been asking Him, since I realized the painful pieces in my hands. </p><p>I was getting no answers, and sifting through the pieces wasn't helping me put them back together, nor come to any peace.</p><p>Finally, I came out straight with Him.</p><p><i>Lord, I had this dream. </i>I held it out to Him. <i>It was a GOOD one and it shouldn't have been that hard,</i> a<i>nd now it's broken. You know. You were there. I don't know what to do with this painful pile of broken dream now. It hurts me and is beyond me and can't be unbroke the side of heaven. So.</i></p><p><i>Imma need you to take it, and...and handle it. </i></p><p><i>Please.</i></p><p>My prayer was about that eloquent, and I didn't even have the wisdom or hope to tell Him what to do with it, or my normal audacity to make any suggestions. </p><p>Just, <i>You're gonna hafta take this broken dream.</i></p><p>And you know what He very clearly said? </p><p><b><i>Ok.</i></b></p><p>That was all. That was it. </p><p>He didn't tell me what He's gonna do with those shards. Maybe something awesome and beautiful and redemptive. Maybe nothing but hold them. </p><p>But His <i>ok, </i>I realized almost instantly, was more than enough for me. I don't much care what He does with that dream, because I trust Him, and I can't carry it without a constant unraveling and stabbing in my own life. He's got it, my broken dream, and that's enough for me.</p><p>Which makes me realize the dream I had of living in Haiti and serving there with my whole life, He can have that broken dream, too. The dream I've had of traveling so many places--among so many people and cultures, coming alongside, and that grows dimmer every day--it's one I can't reconcile that He can surely have instead. The dream of raising babies with my sister. Of hiking all the widest places. Of living on an island and aiming it all at Jesus, every barefoot mud hut day...of being a foreign missionary, always, of having my parents, alive and involved and beautiful....all those dreams, broken or not.</p><p>He can have them. I'll take His <i>ok</i>. </p><p><br /></p><p>What are your secret stabs, friend? Is it possible instead of carrying them--unable to be fixed or worked through or fabricated by our own blood, sweat and tears--you'd rather entrust Him to handle them? </p><p>Whether He remakes them with power and glory and beauty from ashes...or sets them on His shelf to die while He does totally different and new things at His workbench...wouldn't you rather HE? </p><p>I am entrusting Him to my broken dreams, and tenderly and completely, He said <i>ok.</i> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfebD3pw_ktnamEUvFZd7qIn6KdfF3BdW1fRJrCf9Tn6jrHXMvGUj3B_0edz3tshO4_BCAeHBMacZgICFVlpgY1OyUvO5t1gvd6STisdPBGtXe-h3P3f39K7VMLf_eP95nmUniz36E_U_bamhMQjhZzLHTjWPvUzFrb3zUCgEreIkUxdKnbR_f1iQudGYY/s2048/IMG_1675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1860" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfebD3pw_ktnamEUvFZd7qIn6KdfF3BdW1fRJrCf9Tn6jrHXMvGUj3B_0edz3tshO4_BCAeHBMacZgICFVlpgY1OyUvO5t1gvd6STisdPBGtXe-h3P3f39K7VMLf_eP95nmUniz36E_U_bamhMQjhZzLHTjWPvUzFrb3zUCgEreIkUxdKnbR_f1iQudGYY/s320/IMG_1675.JPG" width="291" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-36519113276376634112024-03-17T15:21:00.003-04:002024-03-17T22:46:19.885-04:00the Jesus rut<p>We didn't go to Disney or hike the Grand Canyon, but a 24 hour family trip to the Memphis Zoo, and a 24 hour mom and dad trip to Oxford (Mississippi :) and lots of downtime and family time made this Spring Break a good one! We watched a few Columbo's (our newly discovered version of family-friendly murder mystery for the teens), spent lots of time with friends, had court, a funeral, youth group and Bible study and friends for dinner and a game night. Spring break has also delayed the smack of the time change, which will be hitting hard tomorrow morning at 6!</p><p>Extra time with them, and twenty-four hours without them, just reminded me how deeply we love these 7 kiddos. I sure hope and pray I'm a good mama, 'cause I sure am doing my best. They stretch me in every way possible, stomp all over my insecurities (and frequently announce them), push all my limits of trusting the Lord, and cover every surface of my life and sanity with their fingerprints, but the Lord absolutely continues to refine and sanctify my life through these children, toddler to teens, and I'm THANKFUL. </p><p>A day away with Matt was <i>so</i> lovely...<i>it has been a long time</i> since I simply got in a car, or simply got out of a car, or simply decided what I'd like to eat, or when I'd like to go to bed, or when I'd like to get up, or what Matt and I would like to talk about...uninterrupted! I am not letting 8 more years go by without an overnight away!!! I wish I had prioritized this for our marriage and even for myself and my mothering before now. Please sign-up now for 24 hours manning the Ayars crew in six months :)</p><p>A few random things I've been thinking about...</p><p><b>I can't tell you how many people have warned me not to burn these kids out on Jesus</b>...but NO ONE has <i>ever </i>told me to be careful not to burn them out on sports or dance or social activities or on school. No one hesitates to take kiddos to hours and hours of practices a week, to drive hours for competitions and meets, to spend untold amounts of money on costumes and uniforms and gear and goals, but since becoming a pastor's wife, several people have told me to be careful about church! What in the world, culture!? I don't usually speak this plainly, but <i>you are wrong</i> and I do not want to hear it. </p><p>We <i>can </i>burn our babies out on religion, on practices for the sake of them, on playing church, on preaching one thing and living at home something else, absolutely. We can burn out our kids on white-washing, on "Christian" competition, on good works without His love, on church-attendance that's about church-attendance.</p><p>I will never tell (and I have caught myself in the middle and done an Uncle Dave visible self-silencing!) one of these kiddos to behave a certain way because we don't want a person to think such-and-such, or because we want to appear a certain way before man, or because missionary kids/presidents kids/pastors kids should/shouldn't...dot.dot.dot. I WILL talk to them, endlessly, their eyes rolling, about speaking and behaving the way of JESUS. About looking like HIS Children. Because God's Word is the TRUTH and LIFE and WAY for our lives and their lives. Because we have an audience of One who is Holy and FOREVER.</p><p><i>But I will not let them decide if they want to go to church or not. </i>I will not allow them to miss family devotions. I will not let them pick a baseball game over church or a hang out over youth group. We will take their friends with us, we will have to miss that practice, and we will make sure church isn't a check box and that youth group isn't hype or social club. I won't pass up an opportunity to point them to Jesus instead of the world. And I will not be silent about His Word or about Jesus because they don't want to hear it, or because it's cringe, or because they've heard it before, or because I don't want to make them tired of Jesus. </p><p>Man alive, if <i>I</i> can't make it through a trip to Wal-Mart without Him, how are my children supposed to make it through life? They <i>will be </i>in the habit of turning to Him, of praying about it, of giving it to Him...or what habits am I bothering to repeat a million times to teach them?? If I can't speak a good, wise word on my own, if I can't do a worthy action on my own strength, if I can't build ONE lasting brick on a foundation other than Him, what am I teaching or giving them that matters outside of Jesus, and gathering together with other believers, and interrupting life constantly to remember Him? </p><p>If He tells His people to write His word on our foreheads, to <i>train up</i> our children, to meditate on Him day and night, then I figure He can handle the dangers of them burning out on Jesus. </p><p><i>More of Jesus has always made me hungrier, not sick.</i> </p><p>Don't burn your kids out on religion. But don't you worry about burning people out on Jesus. If He never, ever stops pursuing His children, nor shall I. And if I die at 45 like my mama did, my kids won't even have to think about where to turn or how to make my faith their own. The ruts will be worn, Jesus help me and bless them! Don't warn me about making Jesus our rut. </p><p>We have tried it all, friends, haven't we? IS there anything else??</p><p><i>And if I'm wrong, I'd rather go wrong here</i> than wrong on grades. Or healthy diets. Or sports. or. well. anything else. </p><p>I had more thoughts about that than I thought I did :). </p><p>I'll save my other thoughts for another day....<b>but let me push myself and you again to be in His Word daily. </b>It is SO EASY for our world and culture to feel like the norm, like the goal, like the truth...<b>and it is only His Word that recalibrates our truth to HIM, our culture to HIS.</b> His kingdom is NOT like this one, our God is like no other, Jesus wasn't living or talking or looking or walking like anyone else, the Word is living and breathing and God-inspired like nothing else....if we are NOT looking different today too, friends, something. is. wrong.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheI-uqYraxc4RtPDUMSnoxS6P5yIoyv7mgV7rcyFXk0x-eNg4Dzw8L1wnAkcdRxu4x_HEzS9BB_9K0e0faFo_LGOY2RAl25KdorKySjj6z21V8UZVhEp9K1lMRIGp2FRKteI9SDDODVdrqCojzKz-YyhPtqdM4u10LRCbbkYBOruXLLoiq9qbuPvqnKgGp/s2895/C96171A7-F318-44FF-AC8B-9CD96E375939.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2895" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheI-uqYraxc4RtPDUMSnoxS6P5yIoyv7mgV7rcyFXk0x-eNg4Dzw8L1wnAkcdRxu4x_HEzS9BB_9K0e0faFo_LGOY2RAl25KdorKySjj6z21V8UZVhEp9K1lMRIGp2FRKteI9SDDODVdrqCojzKz-YyhPtqdM4u10LRCbbkYBOruXLLoiq9qbuPvqnKgGp/s320/C96171A7-F318-44FF-AC8B-9CD96E375939.JPG" width="256" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-74997885751809689682024-03-15T08:52:00.000-04:002024-03-15T08:52:01.868-04:00making space<p><i>Matt and I are getting away overnight for the first time since. I. was. pregnant. </i></p><p><i>With Nora.</i></p><p>Nora is eight. </p><p>It is embarrassing that that is how long ONE NIGHT away together has taken to prioritize, and also that I have grown so accustomed to keeping it all together with everyone that I have allowed it to become impossible. </p><p>Dad and Cindy kept Lily and Sofie overnight when I was 8 months pregnant so we could go to Amish Country in Ohio, and it was so good and sweet and restful that I remember. </p><p>Then we added five more kids and were and then moved far from family and it's not often someone has both said, "When was the last time you and Matt got away for a few days?" and ALSO, "I'd love to hang with the kids so you could!"</p><p> I would have never let any of our friends get away with this, and I'm trying to be more of my friend lately.</p><p>Praising the Lord for HANNAH, who DID ask and DID ask to come and who is giving up 24 hours of her hard earned Spring Break, and whom the kids will adore spending time with so much while Matt and I drive two hours to Oxford Mississippi, a town we've always wanted to explore (and honestly, doesn't matter where.)</p><p>We leave this afternoon and come back tomorrow afternoon for a funeral with dear ones, but I am trying to wrap my mind around NOT planning my evening around what's best for the kiddos, and going to bed, and eating, and sleeping where and when we want to, and around 24 uninterrupted hours with Matt!</p><p>It comes at good time. I spent the afternoon yesterday with our bonus girls in the juvenile court, and there has been little that discourages and wearies me like these afternoons. Yesterday was no exception, the girls quickly being taken out and put in the "kids room" (where they have spent so much time over the years it has truly become a traumatic place) and an hour of heated arguing while I mostly stared into the carpet. </p><p>Did you know 1 in 10 kiddos in Mississippi are in the foster care system? 76% of the 600,000 kids in the US in state custody because of neglect? As I walk our neighborhood each afternoon with a gaggle of kiddos, I can't help but pray that every 10th house will open their lives to a kiddo who needs them.</p><p>The mama in me screams internally every time we head into that dirty, dark and depressing juvenile court building, and I can hardly keep up with all the prayers I'm streaming while so many worlds are coming down around me. As always, what we learned yesterday is that it is possible the girls' situation will change, and also that the girls' situation will not change, and all the doubt, pain and questions that come with these always heated and confused conversations follows you home. </p><p>I have very little voice, foster mama, understandably. But it is hard to sit and hear children's lives discussed and watch the best and the good often discarded and long-forgotten in long legal discussions and lots of variants and versions of truth.</p><p>If you're looking for something life-giving and fun, I would strongly not recommend foster care. It's probably the hardest thing we have <i>ever </i>done...<i>not loving on the kiddos</i>, but holding them loosely and having very little ability to protect them and help them thrive when not under our roof, trusting the Lord with them when decisions for their lives are being made after having already lived through so much.</p><p>But man alive are you needed. <a href="https://www.adoptuskids.org/adoption-and-foster-care/how-to-adopt-and-foster/getting-approved" target="_blank">If your family has a little space</a> in your hearts and family clearly formed by the Lord, there are so many foster families who need a little support, so many foster kiddos who need just that little space. There are so many kiddos in that "kids room" who need someone to sit in the middle of the argument and interject on their behalf, to take them home after and let them eat ice cream and wash off the day and assure them that no matter what happens, there will be a place in your heart and your family and your home, always, for them,<i> because Jesus...the only thing that remains after good intentions and best efforts and biggest hopes crumble.</i></p><p>So thankful for Hannah giving Matt and I a little space to realign and rest!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjoGNa50KTtZ2defn8W0rTLUCDo0KP8ekraQXgpzkId3eNmtVU9kFrJQhB2_sD_-22twM0i6NKNrgR5hmwRkMkXP278zgz3tgntM6xUWUttD7B3n7Nev7fe5z6Al5qtRMuQJmw2Bq2kYjEG18oxhgYYGOHvdXZX4u09Ki1x2KHcwPUqU-o0OYLA22PnMP/s2193/IMG_1473.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1645" data-original-width="2193" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixjoGNa50KTtZ2defn8W0rTLUCDo0KP8ekraQXgpzkId3eNmtVU9kFrJQhB2_sD_-22twM0i6NKNrgR5hmwRkMkXP278zgz3tgntM6xUWUttD7B3n7Nev7fe5z6Al5qtRMuQJmw2Bq2kYjEG18oxhgYYGOHvdXZX4u09Ki1x2KHcwPUqU-o0OYLA22PnMP/s320/IMG_1473.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-5864519741805209242024-03-10T16:01:00.000-04:002024-03-10T16:01:38.705-04:00that day<p>This week Matt kicked off New Beginning Church's first Bible Study, and man alive this man can teach. He's doing the book of Psalms, a study I've never done before, and it was SO good.</p><p>I can't help but look back to that day, when he was 17, before I even knew Matt existed, that the Lord spoke to him first and clearly, <i>You will teach my Word.</i></p><p>When we sat in massive churches in Haiti, Matt preaching the anticipated hour in passionate, fluid Creole, young men on the edge of their benches, I remembered that day and thought, <i>you were right, Lord, bet he never thought like this.</i></p><p>When he taught classes at Wesley, students around the world online and Mississippi pastors at the desks, changing out his "you guys" for "y'alls", I thought <i>yes, Lord, it was true and I bet he didn't ever think here. </i></p><p>This Thursday night at Mama Hamils, a local Southern-soul food restaurant a friend owns, 70 men and women turned out...many of whom have had Bibles in hand their whole lives, like me. Without missing a beat, without a note or outline or book, he launched us into Psalms...a book I've read dozens of times and yet never looked at like this. We all couldn't write fast enough.</p><p><i>Never thought like this, </i>I ponder these things up in my heart, <i>but you were right, Lord, he will teach your Word, and you have equipped him.</i></p><p>It probably amuses-slash-irritates the Lord when I note Him right. As if there was a chance He wasn't. </p><p>Of course He saw all these things, long before He spoke to Matt, as He was even weaving him together. Of course He saw every country, every church, every classroom, every restaurant, every future place, and spoke it plain and simple, Ebenezer with oil on top...<i>You will teach my Word. </i></p><p>And <i>of course </i>alongside came the equipping for the calling, the provision for the empowering, the faithfulness in the contracting.</p><p>Of course, that being said by the Almighty God, it IS. And of course, called and equipped and helped by God, when you experience Matt doing what he was made for, you think, "Man alive, I've never seen or heard anything like this." </p><p>It excites me, not because of Matt, but because of ALL the stories of His children. Because of Your story.</p><p>He made you for something. Somethings. He's called you, is calling you, for the very thing He made you for, and He can and will do it BETTER and AMAZING through you, like no one's ever seen or heard, and that will change things for those He calls you to.</p><p>Men and women TODAY in broken dark Haiti are full of hope and preaching God's Word, WELL, because God made and equipped and called Matt to teach His Word there. </p><p>While it's easy for me to experience Matt's teaching gift and feel like I don't have anything like <i>that</i> to offer, He reminds me that what is special and life-changing is just Jesus through Matt, and THAT, I do have. What He's given me to share that's worth something, that's life-changing, is just Himself, and I do have THAT. </p><p>Whatever is hindering you from living into and sharing what He made you for...ask Him to show us and to help us lay it down. We don't have to offer up anything good in ourselves...just ourselves. Just obedience. </p><p>He's at work in anyone who believes and obeys, and God at work? </p><p> <i>that's</i> what's mighty. </p><p>I am reminding you. You keep on reminding me.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiUrZXvE1RGT-iQoVnOEt9r3XVvPPjyCsNXrOxOsY4_zNA_gOIyleY1H7qknAMDfdNBoR4aavkDfA8Q91mdc6QI6WMeeFUWfc-y49ey3pR-8VIpaYGHKpiTgm2ZeenqZ1y34ZeIZX3EdFcIbr1tjWnVDPoSnlqgn9xABqdkzPKSbsYfjnB9eim4Od0T3Z/s4032/IMG_0595.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiUrZXvE1RGT-iQoVnOEt9r3XVvPPjyCsNXrOxOsY4_zNA_gOIyleY1H7qknAMDfdNBoR4aavkDfA8Q91mdc6QI6WMeeFUWfc-y49ey3pR-8VIpaYGHKpiTgm2ZeenqZ1y34ZeIZX3EdFcIbr1tjWnVDPoSnlqgn9xABqdkzPKSbsYfjnB9eim4Od0T3Z/s320/IMG_0595.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbuxYxGXVJGURBQ1BiE7u2jsf2w56I7fjAorkjVcrr2n-G0Btyyt71kazKBcd09b3xsUbPHjz0hDacWqBzSckAXxKXz9YwMncv8diUrprC0I5JbndqGyvc02N2KppQHGWTledQZLsHcutprYmSv7LKocwWhst1p_QfDsu_Ex9wniAVH4djq1uoAPV9vojM/s4608/matt%20preaches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbuxYxGXVJGURBQ1BiE7u2jsf2w56I7fjAorkjVcrr2n-G0Btyyt71kazKBcd09b3xsUbPHjz0hDacWqBzSckAXxKXz9YwMncv8diUrprC0I5JbndqGyvc02N2KppQHGWTledQZLsHcutprYmSv7LKocwWhst1p_QfDsu_Ex9wniAVH4djq1uoAPV9vojM/s320/matt%20preaches.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZ8O45GshqdNlgk2q9j1vW3LIO5ictzWzKvtjx4I2p3kfa-jUXIRP8IXgn0g-hwKGF9380ZdGNyOogbbH1MJhim_EsergdfCmzHOPJb5qn-M5RNfn7cvhiAtukYYUvBE969eR763x1mkKHourS5d-EHC1_gNUEEhp01Q-5hQs6C_Z7JIruXsIqFSdZBPl/s2048/matt%20wesley.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1466" data-original-width="2048" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZ8O45GshqdNlgk2q9j1vW3LIO5ictzWzKvtjx4I2p3kfa-jUXIRP8IXgn0g-hwKGF9380ZdGNyOogbbH1MJhim_EsergdfCmzHOPJb5qn-M5RNfn7cvhiAtukYYUvBE969eR763x1mkKHourS5d-EHC1_gNUEEhp01Q-5hQs6C_Z7JIruXsIqFSdZBPl/s320/matt%20wesley.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgBrsxsgA3QF0Xp6VZlZiPvPonsaX2DKUpZ3b7DjgPcIAJ1xI6FsSrDlyuAstG4YRxHnYjlB9i8N8gZG6zeZymwyHPNqWp5smzdHtzqEbq9QRbq3KgbRRVfvM2YCSo41daooc9GjHmdyX6SukUjWm9seAdF5xJpayQ2hAF9RjYabtJ6fS48tPwrMkat92/s3872/matt%20teach%20first%20class.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="3872" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgBrsxsgA3QF0Xp6VZlZiPvPonsaX2DKUpZ3b7DjgPcIAJ1xI6FsSrDlyuAstG4YRxHnYjlB9i8N8gZG6zeZymwyHPNqWp5smzdHtzqEbq9QRbq3KgbRRVfvM2YCSo41daooc9GjHmdyX6SukUjWm9seAdF5xJpayQ2hAF9RjYabtJ6fS48tPwrMkat92/s320/matt%20teach%20first%20class.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-21813585014897753252024-03-03T15:24:00.003-05:002024-03-03T15:53:46.820-05:00teenagers<p><i>Pleaaaassseeeee rinse and put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher!</i> I pleaded yesterday, thousandth time. <i>Putting dirty dishes in the sink says, "here, mom, <u>you</u> do it." </i></p><p>Without missing a beat, sass-teen snorts <i>"That's exactly what I MEANT it to say."</i></p><p>Too closely following a Saturday morning ordeal over "never/no screens upstairs" violation, I packed up the little three and headed to Lady Janes.</p><p>It was easier when she was next door. </p><p>Nora asked me a few days ago if we hadn't had that unplanned emergency sleepover two years ago now that turned us into a family of 9, would we still live next to Lady Jane. </p><p><i>Probably.</i></p><p>Lord knew. Lord knows. There have been lots of sacrifices this life worth their weight, and more I'll see the worth of one day, heaven-side. </p><p>Into a dark, quiet-quiet house my three exploded, home away from home, and Lady Jane sat in a cheery yellow sweater and caught me up on life. Emma raided her toy cabinet while Ben and Nora found the chocolate and resumed a back-yard game.</p><p>After we talked about health and grandkids, I told her these four teenagers were killing me, and she did what she always does. Listened. Agreed. Told me a story from her life. Gave me a hug.</p><p>Lady Jane's daughter is one of our favorite people on earth. She thinks of others and loves BIG and gives continually. Everyone who knows her says the same. She would and DOES do anything for anyone with such a gracious spirit. She's come to the new church two Sunday afternoons already to see us and hear Matt preach, and I KNOW she doesn't have time for that! </p><p>But turns out a very, very long time ago (I'm calling you out, Suzu :), 8th - 12th grade, there wasn't a thing Lady Jane could say without a sassy response, years, even, that LJ says they could barely have a conversation. <i>Oh, she was SUCH a pill</i>, Lady Jane chuckled yesterday shaking her head, remembering, and then told me how come college, all Suzu wanted to do was come home and be dear friends...a lifetime of sweet love and friendship so apparent to us all. </p><p>After Ben snuggled chocolate onto that sunshine sweater and Emma had three bye-bye kisses, we headed back to my moody teens yesterday afternoon to get ready for teen #2's party, and I felt SO. MUCH. BETTER.</p><p>She didn't fix anything.</p><p>But her story and her testimony and the testimony of Suzu gave me such hope. </p><p>These girls are NOT gonna kill me, though some days I swear they are trying. </p><p>When the house was full of incredibly loud and awkward teens last night, I cut ice cream cake and smiled from the background, trying not to be embarrassing. </p><p>I wish I could call my mom and be her friend. I wish I could call dad, like I got accustomed to doing the last 20 years when I missed mom, and tell him what a mess, and he could remind me mom and I were, too. </p><p>And he'd tell me again that these teenage girls--two my blood and four my heart--they're<i> supposed </i>to be a mess. They're supposed to be <i>pills. </i>They're supposed to be hormonal and dramatic and difficult and lazy and stubborn. They're on the teenage rollercoaster, but that rollercoaster is IN His hands, and I'm supposed to be at the bottom, a firm foundation and safe place for drama...holding their bags and stupid Stanley's and refusing to ride and pointing to Jesus. </p><p>Two brothers in our church lost their mama a week ago today, and as I hugged one of them this morning, he said dazedly, "I know I'm grown, but my dad died when I was four and I guess it really hurts I'm like <i>an orphan </i>now."</p><p><i>I get that. </i></p><p>But we're not.</p><p>As long as there are Lady Janes and Gaga's and Aunt Sharons, as long as there are Ana's and Lori's and Suzu's and Betsy's and Dawn's and so so many others in the Body of Christ, filling the gaps, we're just NOT. </p><p>Not alone. Not orphans.</p><p>Not defeated. Not dying slow deaths by teenagers. </p><p>Praise the Lord He's given us each other to fortify. </p><p>I want to <i>walk close enough to Him </i>to be pointing to Jesus and His strength and courage, like Lady Jane does, without even trying. </p><p>Grateful for you.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4IZMhBd-BDBl8sFX70LUHayZ-IcedHSBIzLxl9oJTBGRa8RN1UeZDWV3CY-1aKQwgK8tMBKITPV_op3F6_kdrYA6j4AQzixA3U1nHZ-P9v3T7Kwn-z5zcdm9MivJiRG4LcBONqhn60_4547S7Rn2RL_YY6BxfEnYGZbmJQBK9GRena7SYpkt2fCfchQEB" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1645" data-original-width="2193" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4IZMhBd-BDBl8sFX70LUHayZ-IcedHSBIzLxl9oJTBGRa8RN1UeZDWV3CY-1aKQwgK8tMBKITPV_op3F6_kdrYA6j4AQzixA3U1nHZ-P9v3T7Kwn-z5zcdm9MivJiRG4LcBONqhn60_4547S7Rn2RL_YY6BxfEnYGZbmJQBK9GRena7SYpkt2fCfchQEB=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-19215836555131110582024-02-28T09:29:00.005-05:002024-02-28T09:29:53.440-05:00stories<p>Yesterday was crazier than planned...school, Adam's funeral, another meet-n-greet with 12 church family, a massive tree coming <i>this close </i>to smashing the party bus, two school pick-ups, and family dinner with Gaga and Ethan and a few young friends to celebrate H's 14th birthday! </p><p>You know I love people's stories, and these meet-n-greets--Matt's idea for helping us get to know people more intimately and in smaller groups at a time--have been FULL of stories. I wish I could share them the way I always could in Haiti...different cultures, different communities. </p><p>But I will say.</p><p>A new friend living in sin they thought too hard for Him to handle testified of the Lord waking them up in the middle of the night, over and over, and showing Himself and His great love. A testimony of a twenty year battle that ended in miraculous and instant and true healing. Stories of miraculous leading from the Lord, and of His genuine love manifesting in unexpected and unwelcomed places. </p><p>Even between frantic phone calls from dear neighbors about said tree, and phone calls from Sofie at the house about a home inspector showing up for a pop-by foster visit WHILE trees were falling and while mom and dad were in the church gathering (head.in.hands)...the stories of the men and women around us are so powerful and inspiring. </p><p>God's at work when we want and when we see it and when we don't. </p><p>I love the reminders that our loved ones far from Him are being pursued by Him, regardless and always. I love the reminders that while we wrestle, He wrestles with us, and little by little or sometimes all at once, there is freedom in Him...persevere. I love that He wants ALL of it, ALL of us, and isn't content with pieces...that's some kind of love. And I love the while we live in our own worlds, at times we are reminded of all the worlds around us where He is also working a the same time...brothers and sisters in Christ is truly a gift and miracle, eyes on Jesus. </p><p>Share your stories and be made aware of God at work all around you.</p><p>I've been straying from social media and so here's random pictures from the days. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUovOEIG1YLlXHRYOA47oWbZDH1GJLCrzGH52zlOEQzcCuiSmgOYSTz0vxrDZohg9QLfowFVDN0klEXMvopmgcEOHK_8Co3L1WbdgJ4L-UuoJWJ975AGkL_JFdhNRx-mHmbEXB5gI0GvXPq-fsHMvyD6pR_uBE8D75lEF7VWB4hLfbqSfCnORstX3VDJ1/s4032/IMG_1316.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUovOEIG1YLlXHRYOA47oWbZDH1GJLCrzGH52zlOEQzcCuiSmgOYSTz0vxrDZohg9QLfowFVDN0klEXMvopmgcEOHK_8Co3L1WbdgJ4L-UuoJWJ975AGkL_JFdhNRx-mHmbEXB5gI0GvXPq-fsHMvyD6pR_uBE8D75lEF7VWB4hLfbqSfCnORstX3VDJ1/w300-h400/IMG_1316.heic" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Lily got to go to a theater conference last weekend and meet some amazing people and all her dreams, lately, are on Broadway. Quote: "What country can I go to and be a missionary during the week, and be in plays on the weekends?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7qf7YUYbp2U4fborAD-ftSj7_MHTkpMO0acWhHACJbrIA9ZqmdEr84f2l6-3DtO1-eTmyGuGHwLGlfHrfM-PvMRIewexgbDHm7KIEUVb5dC7gnuIR0IZdwICUC8eet3nPWr-MAttal1SRCkIZPkQTCYJeaXkXuqyutyITY-k_H9i1Eq_swjq3fiCDCTC/s4032/IMG_1304.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG7qf7YUYbp2U4fborAD-ftSj7_MHTkpMO0acWhHACJbrIA9ZqmdEr84f2l6-3DtO1-eTmyGuGHwLGlfHrfM-PvMRIewexgbDHm7KIEUVb5dC7gnuIR0IZdwICUC8eet3nPWr-MAttal1SRCkIZPkQTCYJeaXkXuqyutyITY-k_H9i1Eq_swjq3fiCDCTC/w300-h400/IMG_1304.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGijk4tE704J0EMdpQ2LAZ0BTn8J-budK2Tmus3iUKbnVLdZMYA8C9UT6Fk9QEGp1rRv5504vKLVAfvMpe-E8UjMmVqQdj5iGx_hvH_x_XT-anEg5b3ZLGEtQQyT19g2tIU6-gqNe2OxLrogvnUgLAVqpYGx9SVSOLhi_GpnRRhWO6iktytFCD6GhljzBQ/s4032/IMG_0718.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGijk4tE704J0EMdpQ2LAZ0BTn8J-budK2Tmus3iUKbnVLdZMYA8C9UT6Fk9QEGp1rRv5504vKLVAfvMpe-E8UjMmVqQdj5iGx_hvH_x_XT-anEg5b3ZLGEtQQyT19g2tIU6-gqNe2OxLrogvnUgLAVqpYGx9SVSOLhi_GpnRRhWO6iktytFCD6GhljzBQ/w300-h400/IMG_0718.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7iOCzQn6eo79g8XfEcn0CeVBUKr36KruSo-xMu8tkRwf1ydK96wpP4yCT9Ed5gM8ytpN76Cj__d4eGUUKPve1IDHWOEdpgn8DA-V_EfoTVSkxT_J00ZDclkc_xjYExZzHxFyWUwGhvCi6pRdO-cxeQBetffoVjDqxuOwUX4Cr6EE2ff4_ZlS-QyWt40t/s5712/IMG_0695%202.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK7iOCzQn6eo79g8XfEcn0CeVBUKr36KruSo-xMu8tkRwf1ydK96wpP4yCT9Ed5gM8ytpN76Cj__d4eGUUKPve1IDHWOEdpgn8DA-V_EfoTVSkxT_J00ZDclkc_xjYExZzHxFyWUwGhvCi6pRdO-cxeQBetffoVjDqxuOwUX4Cr6EE2ff4_ZlS-QyWt40t/w300-h400/IMG_0695%202.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nobody Emma loves like Chou-Chou.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTy_B-IouRdC6qfjJXMQno5fn_H3NYrMCE_-Dh7zRo9qCL3cGkY_MayAgAsTmXwLFtZ1YXSjrubVZGi2pIFsrkKia__KEXmDx3ZlQqh_eHOfWrgb4jS7p3bhCjKm169SwS5j_8XXH50RgTaJZUn95hLKmeiGlFvqTSDRW4Rgo2XIMs2h21ttNoMAr371Ty/s5712/IMG_0688.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTy_B-IouRdC6qfjJXMQno5fn_H3NYrMCE_-Dh7zRo9qCL3cGkY_MayAgAsTmXwLFtZ1YXSjrubVZGi2pIFsrkKia__KEXmDx3ZlQqh_eHOfWrgb4jS7p3bhCjKm169SwS5j_8XXH50RgTaJZUn95hLKmeiGlFvqTSDRW4Rgo2XIMs2h21ttNoMAr371Ty/s320/IMG_0688.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2coCptbUWawyFHw9ydZMitSIuSInHNDDWKMEkamMv8lDin5NHJVlTytI7c078jMz47RqG4In_VqVUvGckzNTZ0nW1ClyQ4WflzXn-_KB-ATbT4HzAvPA7FhyQlFw1QVuJO06naHXphefP8uDPiFUMirIFFvz1TLdxdRJG1vKAPy9P3tZLrCxEP3JZsLt/s5712/IMG_0675.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2coCptbUWawyFHw9ydZMitSIuSInHNDDWKMEkamMv8lDin5NHJVlTytI7c078jMz47RqG4In_VqVUvGckzNTZ0nW1ClyQ4WflzXn-_KB-ATbT4HzAvPA7FhyQlFw1QVuJO06naHXphefP8uDPiFUMirIFFvz1TLdxdRJG1vKAPy9P3tZLrCxEP3JZsLt/w300-h400/IMG_0675.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I walked by the art room the other day and found Emma all alone, working hard.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBUOO0YsyxNkusmQ9nvkntbbDUT9xgKx1sV4QajFIl586FDBIT_Zg5fHBP3L3PLWUvIklTfW6dfwjCqQSrxSvGyqudVVpP6XMNhX8ttUF2VM2vPODsP899BBS7fKi67lgdvYfFCZmprLraR8cpVToObSPmhtDdMIpVyU6SsjiH7syvKh5-Hdyk3cxH-9K/s5712/IMG_0663.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4284" data-original-width="5712" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSBUOO0YsyxNkusmQ9nvkntbbDUT9xgKx1sV4QajFIl586FDBIT_Zg5fHBP3L3PLWUvIklTfW6dfwjCqQSrxSvGyqudVVpP6XMNhX8ttUF2VM2vPODsP899BBS7fKi67lgdvYfFCZmprLraR8cpVToObSPmhtDdMIpVyU6SsjiH7syvKh5-Hdyk3cxH-9K/s320/IMG_0663.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The front of our house is a constant parking lot for bikes, scooters, roller blades and skateboards...I don't even know who these all belong to :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_Bl3QiIhUKG2sg6nvL1kVZLxd1rxJXIv85gRZPZbzuVaPSbSYq7hPx2E0idMIJqdj3w8hk4Y9LHuzHmuyIrYnexgxU2GBx2vrZ7XFPnivwTdmIQALx72LSubgcWPKq9GqXZdhlP-pTDv7OP8ReZ7O1CPzEeJfHUcFwUniRxnQWbE7BnpVGPqwrIhIU45/s4032/IMG_0578.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_Bl3QiIhUKG2sg6nvL1kVZLxd1rxJXIv85gRZPZbzuVaPSbSYq7hPx2E0idMIJqdj3w8hk4Y9LHuzHmuyIrYnexgxU2GBx2vrZ7XFPnivwTdmIQALx72LSubgcWPKq9GqXZdhlP-pTDv7OP8ReZ7O1CPzEeJfHUcFwUniRxnQWbE7BnpVGPqwrIhIU45/s320/IMG_0578.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ben just started kindergarten baseball, and he. is. obsessed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbnp-mDqcEZ2NVOaQL22nI-yUgQmaen9be06mLSIof5-HXn55QOiC2GT3XATIshjMxwPzkamwC4ef0YGnolkAApWhT9W_tuunOnVpqyumnpFerMUCx1OkkaWEN2sNriqZkLbo7qgseEPS4z1h_bSwQW_Kl6VMxMJXMOPAuTvof3l1pA1VKnjRtNRosuO2/s3088/IMG_0566.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbnp-mDqcEZ2NVOaQL22nI-yUgQmaen9be06mLSIof5-HXn55QOiC2GT3XATIshjMxwPzkamwC4ef0YGnolkAApWhT9W_tuunOnVpqyumnpFerMUCx1OkkaWEN2sNriqZkLbo7qgseEPS4z1h_bSwQW_Kl6VMxMJXMOPAuTvof3l1pA1VKnjRtNRosuO2/s320/IMG_0566.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We got to join dear friends for Morgan's birthday dinner Saturday...a very rare double date and so cherished. We are thankful for Morgan and her precious family every.day.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4RnNBYz6_lWk1Skqt9gT-bPnBGoVLVm9jeChS-8Uqabga1qvbeI1OdchpLk9fHgVu05ImM-bYHXOXUk-A_eOt-GxQjGD00doOku4ZRLVNaIAmkNRqf0XSYqvzHpUaPx9O2DwQQzPIbJ7a3W828ihwW3Ft4WPcqRcCeBt8iO9mbV-fCkAXpXtTpak8qMT/s1500/IMG_0552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4RnNBYz6_lWk1Skqt9gT-bPnBGoVLVm9jeChS-8Uqabga1qvbeI1OdchpLk9fHgVu05ImM-bYHXOXUk-A_eOt-GxQjGD00doOku4ZRLVNaIAmkNRqf0XSYqvzHpUaPx9O2DwQQzPIbJ7a3W828ihwW3Ft4WPcqRcCeBt8iO9mbV-fCkAXpXtTpak8qMT/w400-h300/IMG_0552.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">oh, memories. Granny and her grandson Prince Lou and Dad and Ben, one born 5 lbs and one born 9 :)</div><br /><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-79547157631497762342024-02-26T13:46:00.002-05:002024-02-27T07:37:58.482-05:00while we wait<p>And just as spring often does, some color and light seems to be filtering back into such a long and dark season. Small joys like tulips seem to be pushing through...new habits genuinely forming...broken places stretching some and growing stronger. </p><p>Since the Lord brought me to that <a href="https://mshaiti.blogspot.com/search?q=river" target="_blank">revelation of His river </a>, He's been faithful to bring me back to the image many times. I've gone from realizing that I have available to me His supernatural Living Water to truly drinking of it daily and choosing to just walk in the river instead of visit it. </p><p>I don't have to mama out of my own patience with His help. He wants to pour into me HIS super-natural patience, to be poured out upon my children.</p><p>I don't have to get out of bed on my own strength and effort, walking with Him. He has me standing in the waters of HIS super-natural strength and completely victory, and I can walk in that, instead. </p><p>I don't have to forgive out of my own character and courage, looking for Him. I can put my feet in His scarred footprints and walk in the forgiveness He bled. </p><p>I don't have to navigate change and challenges by my own best reason and weak wisdom, but have HIS Spirit and His sufficient help and wisdom available to me.</p><p>I don't have to pour out of myself. I can simply receive what He is graciously sharing with me and share it on. </p><p>I am not constrained to the physical, but am amphibious, physical AND spiritual, my eyes above the ripples, fixed on His throne, pouring ever-renewing, satisfying, cleansing, invigorating Living Water.</p><p>It's been a subtle shift, but I can honestly say that these days, every time I put out my hand to pray for a man, woman or child, I slip my feet into the stream and lift them up according to what He's flowing, not what I've got. When I wonder what to pray, how to feel, what to say, what perspective to take, you'll catch me shuffle and splash my feet about a bit, physically reminding myself of the spiritual river I'm standing in. When my heart is aching, I hear the rushing water and lift my eyes ahead to the throne upon which He sits, just ahead, the saints around. </p><p>Just ahead. </p><p>Spring is coming, Jesus, too, bright hope and a future, healing and wholeness, no more tears or suffering, just ahead. While we wait, I'm getting ready.</p><p><i>Getting ready while we wait makes all the difference. </i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8USkc4dFhy7ls81_cqTFaTzlgBHo4eUF9WLO617UVNYC1LmxOdjwO3ccKvucD0r7p7UpyFnUT-lZZocBd8XbGALhP98O28isfv4ZQGnXZxrLKjuABFBRSCV7SLTotC5nA7uIJQzr6xWbILpPns9SHhuxb4NA686liuG1VqO9G4IsCTbA0OUXN0Pf3CYyW" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8USkc4dFhy7ls81_cqTFaTzlgBHo4eUF9WLO617UVNYC1LmxOdjwO3ccKvucD0r7p7UpyFnUT-lZZocBd8XbGALhP98O28isfv4ZQGnXZxrLKjuABFBRSCV7SLTotC5nA7uIJQzr6xWbILpPns9SHhuxb4NA686liuG1VqO9G4IsCTbA0OUXN0Pf3CYyW" width="320" /></a></i></div><i><br /></i><p></p><p><i>Jesus doesn't bring anything up from the wells of human nature--He brings them down from above. The well of your incompleteness runs deep, but make the effort to look away from yourself and to look toward Him. -O Chambers</i></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-8641850601826704022024-02-23T14:58:00.001-05:002024-02-23T14:58:11.662-05:00everything<p>The week's been full of continued recovery, a theater conference, winter formal for Lily, two "Meet Matt and Stacey" church gatherings, homework, three kiddos with a Science Fair today, and the death of a family friend here in Jackson, father to eight kiddos and a wife we love dearly. </p><p>So it's been a week that blended tears with baking soda and vinegar, prayers with nail appointments and church bulletin edits, new community with old stories, people we miss and people we are grateful for. New church family brought strawberry cake and Mississippi pot roast a night we were running 11 directions and badly needed it, old neighbors continue to fill our new neighborhood with good family, and hearing the stories of many many this week, I'm reminded <i>everyone </i>has been through <i>a lot </i>and there are people choosing Jesus every day and I see Him. </p><p>I'm also seeing people chose forgiveness in really unforgivable places, and that example shapes me, mirrored straight from the cross. </p><p>The seven I serve with most of my time and self don't often see me, but He reminds me that when I am motivated by my love for HIM, no amount of ingratitude can hinder us from serving one another, eyes on Jesus.</p><p>Most, He seems to be teaching me a lot about the church, His bride! It's always been the ministry of those we've been called to serve...but it's never been OUR full calling and ministry. Verna, a life-time pastor's wife, gave me some great advice about praying about <i>everything</i>, our battle not being against flesh and blood, but over the very souls of His creation, and her words have come back to me over and over.</p><p>So stop and pray about <i>everything</i>, family...the enemy is not as it seems, and the True Enemy has done been defeated, as they say in Mississippi :)</p><p><i>The Lord sits enthroned over the flood, King forever. May He give strength to His people and bless His people with peace. </i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXHn3hJ5RX3pkDC4jNIMdK118liYxitHyCR9woTLuG4vE4QZyoqAbtjHTItcQb-aLYJBEPmG58DKtMB9pHh_u2OM4VFHwuzqazokrGXQFcaqw1ydOQH4pCKg-puzOxqdTB16qEBdqobbHVSMtV59jq5s831N5G-lM2DU2RMlKmgJ5nNTkBIcezWTxnzwUE" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXHn3hJ5RX3pkDC4jNIMdK118liYxitHyCR9woTLuG4vE4QZyoqAbtjHTItcQb-aLYJBEPmG58DKtMB9pHh_u2OM4VFHwuzqazokrGXQFcaqw1ydOQH4pCKg-puzOxqdTB16qEBdqobbHVSMtV59jq5s831N5G-lM2DU2RMlKmgJ5nNTkBIcezWTxnzwUE=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgM_mZzqB_ZXKra1JpZbSxojDX0ZEhX5W8R356pb2B24L2-a4EeITNJR5c74uVMMaB0ZP-hUkKgLGTat9WqXtA7TLfRx4aFW42gmua901Ecb29EvccuMf1kdvbUnbiF7VGFnE1S_SCgKZz-Cfn5OH5xATrhbPfcZ0i64cEzg7EmEVRO3k0Bc3gThwvgblBC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgM_mZzqB_ZXKra1JpZbSxojDX0ZEhX5W8R356pb2B24L2-a4EeITNJR5c74uVMMaB0ZP-hUkKgLGTat9WqXtA7TLfRx4aFW42gmua901Ecb29EvccuMf1kdvbUnbiF7VGFnE1S_SCgKZz-Cfn5OH5xATrhbPfcZ0i64cEzg7EmEVRO3k0Bc3gThwvgblBC=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKNVtjxAJg_hcweQT7J5NheWFeK5t1afHCPSTIjGuckUfuqY0lPVcP3P5Lw50e2s0Fhe_JV5OIqOeSanny7O-QzuFm6T2ZWeI-rtfEMhfAihi9EM7x6rqhwNN33j_C3n0syFAiKGcw5LY9EYQ2_Dv9uhvhXU8ur1ccSnJ7-67kBZUOW96grZRfVDidz5at" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKNVtjxAJg_hcweQT7J5NheWFeK5t1afHCPSTIjGuckUfuqY0lPVcP3P5Lw50e2s0Fhe_JV5OIqOeSanny7O-QzuFm6T2ZWeI-rtfEMhfAihi9EM7x6rqhwNN33j_C3n0syFAiKGcw5LY9EYQ2_Dv9uhvhXU8ur1ccSnJ7-67kBZUOW96grZRfVDidz5at=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-88978509318294885542024-02-16T11:16:00.003-05:002024-02-16T11:16:51.332-05:00sick days, grief as an honor<p>Friends, I've been sicker than I usually get...just as soon as I got all the kids over the hump of colds and coughs, I managed to get it deep. I am still in a congestion cloud, but as you know, the show must go on and we're just pushing. The extras...the blog, the laundry, the sweeping...have gone by the wayside and I'm feeling it!</p><p>We had our first (for the Ayars) Ash Wednesday service Valentine's Day. Without a building, we met in a hotel, and it was a precious time, not just refocusing on our humanity and repentance, but also being with community that is becoming familiar...and the precious gift of Betsy and Robin showing up, yet again, when it really mattered.</p><p>Isaiah led us in <i>How Deep the Father's Love for Us, </i>and OH man. Surely it's not the first time I've sung that song, but the words sure hit like it was. </p><p>As Betsy continues her battle with cancer, she somehow keeps showing up for me...really praying, really stopping and stepping into the middle of our chaos, really listening and really sharing from her own life and experience, really walking into the room of strangers to worship with us, Ash Wednesday. So thankful for friends like this.</p><p>We made up for date night last night, but ended up in the urgent care with a Matt who is feeling worse instead of better. Sometimes you just feel like you should be over something by now...and it's a hard reminder when you're simply not. </p><p>Since leaving Haiti, this has been a hard dynamic for me to wrestle with. Dad's death, hard cycles, leaving Haiti suddenly, even being sick these 10 days... No matter what other people think, once <i>I have decided</i> I should be over something by now, I'm incredibly frustrated when tears or tissues or heartache remind me that I'm simply not...and cannot decide my way into healing. </p><p>So Lord. <i>Enter and stay with me, bidding me trust your gracious provision for each hour. You are at work within my very woundedness, kindling more eternal yearnings, and I would learn to let you accomplish your sanctifying labors in me. </i></p><p>Meanwhile, as life has gone on, Lily got to meet with this precious couple from Haiti in a chapel service at school, bringing tears to all of them and to mama at home. Her love and home-ness for Haiti is always so real and deep, and I praise the Lord always for this community, calling and culture engrained in Lily! They taught the students a simple little Haitian song, one that Lily and Sofie sang every single day in school in Haiti, and hearing it sung around her again in such a different context totally undid my dear girl.</p><p>I'm working on getting back among the land of the living...thank you for being friends who walk through the seasons with me!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5URSDppXgojG6wqfzCNKTy6u9HPyHAuvbneoA5R_8yMpMYpD5FPtxY6Fz6VbDALLzmDgUUT6lWRzgBUiPr3g_w5iftELxNqpDihzpkxCtC18X3Q2YOxhN5GmMJflmDBrDGI1sSAqVR3kulUU5Ms1ehBF0Lb7jbBuUAOhHxEf_W-igxSgVcd7YknJiE1eM/s4032/IMG_4016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5URSDppXgojG6wqfzCNKTy6u9HPyHAuvbneoA5R_8yMpMYpD5FPtxY6Fz6VbDALLzmDgUUT6lWRzgBUiPr3g_w5iftELxNqpDihzpkxCtC18X3Q2YOxhN5GmMJflmDBrDGI1sSAqVR3kulUU5Ms1ehBF0Lb7jbBuUAOhHxEf_W-igxSgVcd7YknJiE1eM/w300-h400/IMG_4016.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijbYPYIQUUFQguY9EoufMPJ0OjZQ0UNzluS5Vzb7sKv8BTTvM2h4BMmqWr8edhCzihyphenhyphenmSeKCIPkcq0yHHsTADBYIAqNFQC04s9pFtY01TDEd2fbhw1nrkqEYcDIX_Fm41P3fowq62NjeBKXTQNIB423xtt7kdG14vr1D7vxriCMIM6TXra7CSyMYbCgca/s7256/IMG_0233.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3900" data-original-width="7256" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjijbYPYIQUUFQguY9EoufMPJ0OjZQ0UNzluS5Vzb7sKv8BTTvM2h4BMmqWr8edhCzihyphenhyphenmSeKCIPkcq0yHHsTADBYIAqNFQC04s9pFtY01TDEd2fbhw1nrkqEYcDIX_Fm41P3fowq62NjeBKXTQNIB423xtt7kdG14vr1D7vxriCMIM6TXra7CSyMYbCgca/w400-h215/IMG_0233.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtfQMXGV0mlsbAtloHXvhTvx4M0kEYGrI9cMxo65Xj61N7DKSJZLnDBvjxmxvMJxf6K7qRfDmhP3Dur2X4xYy-ioU3ACVJDNX_Tns_OA9YUI3RGdXOf2_CL5SqtSl8bcZbnA4sxbRxy157s0po2bPtH9Lxxukp4PoVZsPDT4uGG97SBP7UqpYgPmG-dNJo/s5712/IMG_0135.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtfQMXGV0mlsbAtloHXvhTvx4M0kEYGrI9cMxo65Xj61N7DKSJZLnDBvjxmxvMJxf6K7qRfDmhP3Dur2X4xYy-ioU3ACVJDNX_Tns_OA9YUI3RGdXOf2_CL5SqtSl8bcZbnA4sxbRxy157s0po2bPtH9Lxxukp4PoVZsPDT4uGG97SBP7UqpYgPmG-dNJo/w300-h400/IMG_0135.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: center;"><span jsname="YS01Ge"><i>How Deep the Father's Love for Us</i></span></div><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 12px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>How deep the Father's love for us</i></div><i><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">How vast beyond all measure</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">That He should give His only Son</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">To make a wretch His treasure</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">How great the pain of searing loss</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">The Father turns His face away</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">As wounds which mar the Chosen One</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Bring many sons to glory</div></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="ujudUb" jsname="U8S5sf" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Behold the man upon a cross</i></div><i><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">My sin upon His shoulders</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Call out among the scoffers</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">It was my sin that held Him there</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Until it was accomplished</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">His dying breath has brought me life</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">I know that it is finished</div></span></i></div><div class="ujudUb WRZytc" jsname="U8S5sf" style="caret-color: rgb(32, 33, 36); color: #202124; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 0px; text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I will not boast in anything</i></div><i><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">No gifts, no power, no wisdom</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">But I will boast in Jesus Christ</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">His death and resurrection</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">Why should I gain from His reward?</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">I cannot give an answer</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">But this I know with all my heart</div></span><span jsname="YS01Ge"><div style="text-align: center;">His wounds have paid my ransom</div></span></i></div></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-92179175250595281732024-02-06T14:11:00.002-05:002024-02-06T14:11:20.991-05:00mercy in our hands<p>I've almost finished Jackie Hill Perry's new devotional <i>Upon Waking</i>, and her fresh perspective on unchanging truths has been such a gift this season. </p><p>This morning she pointed out to me the obvious truth that God's questions to mankind aren't His way of finding out missing information or satisfying curiosity, but are for the benefit of the one being questioned alone. The first question, of course, was asking Adam and Eve where they were that afternoon in the garden, though we know God's head wasn't turning to the right and left in wonder. </p><p>In asking "Where are you?", God was really asking, "Why are you not near?" or "Why is there distance between us when all there has ever been is love?" or "Where are you in relation to me?" </p><p>He wasn't asking them to know. He was asking to bring them near.</p><p><i>What a mercy it is to be questioned by God,</i> she pointed out, a theme that has been coming to me frequently.</p><p>His mercy in Scripture is as repetitive as the sunrises, clear to us, looking back, that often what was seen as God's silence or God's distance or God's unkind allowance of suffering was actually His MERCY holding their hands. </p><p>If it's repetitive throughout His Word, it must be repetitive in our lives, and if in looking back His mercy is clear, than I can trust that His mercy is holding my current situation tight. I can trust that His mercy is holding my hand...dragging me out of the city as it did Lot and his wife and daughters, guiding me to water as it did Hagar in the wilderness, bringing me out of slavery as His mercy heard and brought Israel up out of Egypt dancing. His mercy in my life must be the same powerful mercy that caused Jesus's hands to hold firm against that wood for their nails, the same mercy that has seen many brought to His throne, the same mercy that met Paul in shipwreck and in pain. </p><p><i>So what is God asking us, dear ones? </i></p><p>His most common question to me--whispered over messes and pains unsortable--is always <i>Do you trust me? </i>He knows the contents of my heart already and isn't wondering over my allegiance. </p><p>But He often seems to want ME to remember that He is trustworthy, that He is my answer, that mercy is in His hands.</p><p>So as I lifted mine Sunday, the altar where I not long ago put my arms around my dad in prayer in front of me once more, He reminded me that in my empty hands are His. In my palms is His tender mercy. In His questions are His unfailing love. </p><p>And when our hands are dripping with His mercy and love, we can climb higher still with Him, not looking back. </p><p><i>Where's His mercy evident in your life? And what is He asking you of the places it appears to be missing?</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMboh1Q7RfnX7NJ182KEh8Bdklqj4p5_wpam10KbhYhaBx4DkKMWkiy2uqMy7ofDBn9Hcu1lm85VbFyWFkO73elmsqyZLHxhCJ48d087_S9BjEVN34ESRD8EKERR2A9wrFnQmcLc8Z3k2vcupJW_fdT3WCHGCKbi17stEbL26zvb3f7dXnypISksFcKMM/s4032/IMG_0955.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMboh1Q7RfnX7NJ182KEh8Bdklqj4p5_wpam10KbhYhaBx4DkKMWkiy2uqMy7ofDBn9Hcu1lm85VbFyWFkO73elmsqyZLHxhCJ48d087_S9BjEVN34ESRD8EKERR2A9wrFnQmcLc8Z3k2vcupJW_fdT3WCHGCKbi17stEbL26zvb3f7dXnypISksFcKMM/w400-h300/IMG_0955.HEIC" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> </p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-19401537941768778172024-02-02T14:20:00.004-05:002024-02-02T14:20:27.573-05:00A Liturgy for the Anniversary of a Loss<div><div style="text-align: center;">I have felt its approach in the back of my mind,</div><div style="text-align: center;">like a burden tilting toward me</div><div style="text-align: center;">across the calendar. I have felt its</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">long approach, and now it has arrived.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is the day that marks</div><div style="text-align: center;">the anniversary of my loss,</div><div style="text-align: center;">and waking to it,</div><div style="text-align: center;">I must drink again</div><div style="text-align: center;">from the stream of a sorrow</div><div style="text-align: center;">that cannot be fully remedied </div><div style="text-align: center;">in this life.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>O Christ, redeem this day.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I do not ask that these</div><div style="text-align: center;">lingers of grief be erased,</div><div style="text-align: center;">but that the fingers of your grace</div><div style="text-align: center;">would work this memory as a baker</div><div style="text-align: center;">kneads a dough, till the leaven of</div><div style="text-align: center;">rising hope transforms it from within,</div><div style="text-align: center;">into a form holding now in that same</div><div style="text-align: center;">sorrow the surety of your presence,</div><div style="text-align: center;">so that when I look again at that loss,</div><div style="text-align: center;">I see you in the deepest gloom of it,</div><div style="text-align: center;">weeping with me,</div><div style="text-align: center;">even as I hear you whispering,</div><div style="text-align: center;">that<i> this is not the end, but only the still</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>grey of the dawn before the world begins.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And if that is so, then let that which broke me</div><div style="text-align: center;">upon this day in the past year,</div><div style="text-align: center;">now be seen as the beginning </div><div style="text-align: center;">of my remaking into a Christ-follower</div><div style="text-align: center;">more sympathetic,</div><div style="text-align: center;">more compassionate,</div><div style="text-align: center;">more conscious</div><div style="text-align: center;">of my frailty and of my daily dependence </div><div style="text-align: center;">upon you; as one more invested in</div><div style="text-align: center;">the hope of the resurrection of the body</div><div style="text-align: center;">and the return of the King,</div><div style="text-align: center;">than ever I had been before. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Let this loss-hollowed day </div><div style="text-align: center;">arrive in years to come</div><div style="text-align: center;">as the kindling of a fire in my bones,</div><div style="text-align: center;">spurring me to seek in this short life</div><div style="text-align: center;">that which is eternal. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Let this past wound, and the memory of it,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>push me to be present with you</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>in ways that I was not before.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Do not waste my greatest sorrows, O God,</div><div style="text-align: center;">but use them to teach me to live</div><div style="text-align: center;">in your presence--fully alive</div><div style="text-align: center;">to pain and joy and sorrow and hope--</div><div style="text-align: center;">in the places where my shattering</div><div style="text-align: center;">and your shaping</div><div style="text-align: center;">meet.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">DK McKelvey</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2130" data-original-width="2816" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDME3VZomqo81fQgcJqnlwFXqWU-NgednKNenmpwvmD1v5Om8VI0sMMiUdHaQ-oBJwQa9scKEnYv9wTNzrEJFxPlSudkpST4O-5Ah78hKLoWJO21eH-n4wF8U0XOy9VNOfatqD2Hdt3cqYkqEzMHG_tXQyXrY-l0eBLFc6uPStn3XKzFEmDtRfNKbaGwG-/w400-h303/IMG_9719%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-48358049778767642522024-02-01T09:10:00.002-05:002024-02-01T09:10:35.010-05:00again and again<p>I have been thinking recently about the man who came to Jesus to restore his sight, but after Jesus had laid his hands on him, people looked like trees, and Jesus had to lay His hands on him again before his sight was fully restored.</p><p>It's almost tempting at first to think that Jesus didn't do the full job, or that perhaps He <i>doesn't</i> do all things well, or that His power was not strong enough to work <i>one and done.</i></p><p>But knowing Jesus, the One through whom all things were made, it seems far more likely He was trying to teach someone something, trying to show something to those who had seen miracles and heard sermons but still didn't see clearly, still didn't quite get it. </p><p>Life can be blinding. It is really easy to be totally focused on what is on the surface, and completely oblivious to all that is underneath. It's easy to see the world and miss heaven, to be focused on how others have hurt us instead of how Jesus has met us, to be overwhelmed by the trees instead of seeing people. </p><p>I can easily be focused on what I have lost, can easily focus my eyes on all the burdens, can easily be caught up in the world...and not see anything clearly, nor with His eyes.</p><p>What I love in this story from Mark is that Jesus had the willingness and the patience and the love and the mercy to heal and heal and heal again until the man finally could see fully.</p><p><i>I want Jesus to finish the work in me</i>...to reveal Himself again and again, to lay His merciful hands on me again and again, bringing layers of healing and Himself. I want to be humble and soft and in His hands until HE finishes the work.</p><p>When we started the cancer journey with Dad, and it felt so much like the cancer journey with Mom...when hard places in our marriage before look wearily like hard places in our marriage still...when lessons I thought I'd learned surface again and again...when difficult seasons with kiddo one look like difficult seasons with kiddo four and will soon be the season with kiddo seven...when we've felt His hands on us and are walking with Him and yet are still struggling with some of the same painful things...when issues with our children or family or church or job are so acutely painful we want to avoid His hands and be done...</p><p>We <i>can </i>decide His refining work is finished, that we are done, and we can walk away with hard hearts and a blurry view and He will leave us alone. </p><p><i>But Lord. Keep us humble and soft, and clinging to you as you finish the work, even if it takes again and again and again. Lay your hands on us again and again until that day when we finally see You as You are.</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGttjj3PD4QaNQaGw0s93-wElSSlBPfabFUbzkbDkX1c048aGX2Ogd5bQHPr0mH-gnSGkuADWnqvp1ZNmEwPX7V5lAGrYyLQZbsH81sBhZYbuAH3ytHz8SgJpqJ1eaCJUcZ7_IJzjrX9RwMxGW12DQaoR8S67vXQhQljybUp_FbxaRUoP8m7SIotJk5Lb/s4032/IMG_6598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGttjj3PD4QaNQaGw0s93-wElSSlBPfabFUbzkbDkX1c048aGX2Ogd5bQHPr0mH-gnSGkuADWnqvp1ZNmEwPX7V5lAGrYyLQZbsH81sBhZYbuAH3ytHz8SgJpqJ1eaCJUcZ7_IJzjrX9RwMxGW12DQaoR8S67vXQhQljybUp_FbxaRUoP8m7SIotJk5Lb/w300-h400/IMG_6598.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-26396992412676003132024-01-26T15:01:00.003-05:002024-01-26T22:21:09.304-05:00in the mix<p>There is a dear girl in our new church community who went to the hospital a few weeks ago with stomach pain, discovered a ruptured appendix, then sepsis, died within hours of arriving. 12 years old. My heart is so broken for this precious family. </p><p>As we walk through the anniversaries of battling for Nora's little life just a year ago this December and January, it has me all kinds of scarred. </p><p>Nora's final surgery (January 30th, 2023) was just five days before dad died on February 4th, and I lived those terrifying and brutal weeks clinging to Him and pushing numbly forward, praying all my prayers out loud and under every breath, present with my dying Dad in my heart while so far away in my body, far from Matt, not really allowing myself to acknowledge how bad Nora was...how dangerous her situation, how heavy your many prayers, how miraculous His hand on her little life. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCxCJFfESfLA9HvVYavNlRRl2KXwXhwPwGDV6IP7lJ2B0m_YL-xSQND46Xm7p1ACiAfUsWLQs1X93Nk9U6BI5pPGVaRmT8zMUoSlogWrn6lYZnGUqoG369X9fPTXJWDnvoAWGZF2xFH4-bNCgvm_UVnhzhtAXbNoXPmGDwCVpJyUcv7LvcgARYlyPaChp/s4032/IMG_6332.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCxCJFfESfLA9HvVYavNlRRl2KXwXhwPwGDV6IP7lJ2B0m_YL-xSQND46Xm7p1ACiAfUsWLQs1X93Nk9U6BI5pPGVaRmT8zMUoSlogWrn6lYZnGUqoG369X9fPTXJWDnvoAWGZF2xFH4-bNCgvm_UVnhzhtAXbNoXPmGDwCVpJyUcv7LvcgARYlyPaChp/s320/IMG_6332.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I've had the privilege the last 2 days of sitting on zoom (half with a toddler in my lap) for the One Mission Society winter board meetings, and the stories and burdens from around the world are powerful and heavy and inspiring and encouraging. If I had fifty lives I'd be a missionary in fifty countries and still wish for more! I continue to pray that some or all of our children will serve as missionaries, here or there or anywhere...following Jesus IS a <i>going and living and telling</i> calling. <p></p><p>This week we celebrated Lady Jane's birthday, and we were all overwhelmed again what a beautiful grace she is in our lives, and the steady, unhurried, unworried ways she points us to Jesus. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKuxsmP6yOpu8hjBNRZ2Pts2DFL2TXKkDNJsYZs7xZo1FOpehdCM081Ex6sBMVta0R180wYQI6_mBoo01_Bv05c-M_t7KtnJQQdUCI4KTh2xcn4AtleziYEFS8KSJAP2WpfLJbx-IJ_P370yy0BV3NOYXR4w-73nX-s8dP6wcIT17QvTu7sZu2ipsXiQ0/s4032/IMG_2092.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVKuxsmP6yOpu8hjBNRZ2Pts2DFL2TXKkDNJsYZs7xZo1FOpehdCM081Ex6sBMVta0R180wYQI6_mBoo01_Bv05c-M_t7KtnJQQdUCI4KTh2xcn4AtleziYEFS8KSJAP2WpfLJbx-IJ_P370yy0BV3NOYXR4w-73nX-s8dP6wcIT17QvTu7sZu2ipsXiQ0/s320/IMG_2092.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Matt had a really impactful time in Colorado, getting back late last night exhausted and thankful for the opportunity. His first Sunday at our new mission-field is this Sunday, and the Lord keeps reminding me that His work can be sweet, good and healing when done from a place of resting in Him, relying on Him, being consecrated in our work...<i>consecrated: the act of continually separating ourselves from everything except that which God has appointed us to do. </i><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvuFeKIKZhIL4wwr1V_1yJE4jrY4wGT14weNjJh3HniwLupaw8SViBv2m_1MtozcR3jgxqxiWLHSyHNdeimJSGJ5I8SGOunCHzQPaecc66Qh7nxeuk_3KGPu1poBHtKUmlSVlAurIFGB2bv9WERI8ilnl8L6FlnJ7Qm5Ko3vq6ERsi_Y9JRYBAuq_UFc6/s4032/IMG_1793.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMvuFeKIKZhIL4wwr1V_1yJE4jrY4wGT14weNjJh3HniwLupaw8SViBv2m_1MtozcR3jgxqxiWLHSyHNdeimJSGJ5I8SGOunCHzQPaecc66Qh7nxeuk_3KGPu1poBHtKUmlSVlAurIFGB2bv9WERI8ilnl8L6FlnJ7Qm5Ko3vq6ERsi_Y9JRYBAuq_UFc6/s320/IMG_1793.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><i><br /></i><p></p><p>Teenage girls continue to be one my biggest life and ministry joys and challenges, all mixed together. What a week of helpfulness, moodiness, hilarity, frustration, honesty, sneakiness, complaining, loving one another all, eye-rolls and snuggles, groaning and grace with these precious girls...I know the Lord relates and understands as He continues to minister to me!</p><p><b><i>Life this past week, and always, is such a mixed bag. </i></b></p><p>It is holding onto the priceless and edifying things we have received from others, while releasing the hurtful or unhealthy things we have received from others, sometimes both from the same people! </p><p>It is counting our blessings and lifting up our burdens, praying and praising in the same inhales and exhales. </p><p>It is looking at what He has done here, and what He has not done yet, all with hope and confidence that He. Is. At. Work. </p><p>It is mourning with those who mourn in the hands of a good God, and rejoicing with those who rejoice in the hands of a good God, and tasting and seeing and trusting and choosing that GOOD He is, always. </p><p>It is worshiping and waiting and working, all together in the same seasons. </p><p>It is letting the past rest in the sweet embrace of Jesus, and it is stepping out on Him into His victorious future, all at the same time and sometimes again and again.</p><p>It is--no matter WHAT joys and heartbreaks fill our days--keeping our lives so constantly in touch with God that His surprising power can break through at any point.</p><p>It's doing our very best to point our babies to Jesus with our whole hearts and lives, all the while fully entrusting that they are HIS, not ours. </p><p>It is taking the scars--some still wounds I thought were healed--and asking the Lord to show us where He was when they happened. And <i>every </i>time I do, He was there. </p><p>It's dwelling on the richness we have from Him and releasing the gaps we have received from the world and are quick to focus on. </p><p>It's living in the now and not yet, the physical and the spiritual, the reality of being beggars and also being sons and daughters. </p><p>I know Jesus gets the mixed bag...I've read his weariness and relief, his joy and sorrows, his prayers and laughter, his blessings and his discouragements. His defeats and victories. </p><p>I rejoice knowing He gets my mixed up days...and holds them.</p><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-30713511081900147512024-01-20T09:22:00.005-05:002024-01-21T14:36:18.206-05:00painful grace<p>This season truly has been full of the most painful graces of my life. </p><p>At first run-through, it's been nothing but painful. </p><p>These have been the hardest 12 consecutive months of my life, no question, one painful thing after another, tears unending, sleepless nights, lost 15 pounds, worship songs on permanent repeat, blurry Scripture verses taped on the walls and mirrors and steering wheels, often feeling pain more raw and deep than I felt like I could handle. </p><p>I have wanted it to stop. I have wanted to escape. I have wanted to be someone else. I have wanted different circumstances, and I have begged for different outcomes. </p><p>And yet. Driving seven kids three places at 7:30 this morning, I felt His unmistakable grace.</p><p>I realized not simply that after the storm, there is grace...but that looking back, <i>much of the storm has BEEN grace. </i></p><p>Much of what I begged to be different I am so thankful, now, He allowed. It was grace, those seemingly unanswered prayers, those nights of acute heartache. He had something different. He had something better. He held out so much of Himself in it. He has changed things I didn't think could change, and done things I sure couldn't do and no one could do for me. </p><p>As the clouds are finally lifting on this long and dark night of the soul, I can see golden linings of His grace in so much of what felt <i>so </i>painful, and <i>I can honestly say, not long after, that I am grateful He did what was best instead of what I wanted.</i> <i>So grateful for His grace, even when it was SO painful.</i></p><p>We spend so much time avoiding great pain, questioning His sovereignty and goodness through it, or trying to protect others from painful things...and yet walking those valleys of shadows, clinging to Him, brings about such growth and good in our lives, we realize He was loving us BEST in allowing for it. </p><p>There are a few things I'm gonna have to keep trusting Him with, not seeing. Meanwhile, He has been good to show me lots of glimpses lately of His <i>better</i> and His sweet grace in many of these trials. </p><p><i>I have hated the journey, but I am hopeful of where He's bringing us.</i></p><p>Matt is knee deep in both snow and his retreat in Aspen...lots of reflection, lots of healing, lots of guidance, lots of tools, lots of seeking, lots of resting in Him. Being out of cell and internet service has been both hard and grounding, and while we are missing him (and some days feeling like a mama chicken running around with her head cut off keeping up with the crew on my own!) he's where he is supposed to be and the Lord's been gracious to make that clear as well! </p><p>There are many of us in hard seasons right now...<i>eyes on Jesus. </i>Nothing is wasted--not in Him--so He IS taking you somewhere. </p><p>Don't help Him, like Sarah and Hagar. Don't fight Him, like Pharaoh. Don't rush Him, like Saul. Don't look backwards like Lot's wife. Don't avoid Him, like Jonah. Don't blame Him, like Adam, and don't seek the traps of temporary relief the world offers.</p><p>Go WITH Him, stay close. We can trust Him, and the longer we walk all the closer, the more our hearts and lives start looking like Him. <i>Painful grace.</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Bc7ZzG2jDYc9gO-NvFIb75eX_UMoEn_XSYKFCzV_a0NCx_Td-wo3TxKXo7odsRl9lT3UqzVkcB-Wkom6Dk3dcyYAtCK1qwnA8fOiJNUoxrsOHdPewJK6eQA2jqXTZPUJqvY5pM-d-5o6jjBrJOTbhxDcGNK6jjmZP9pTdUi74DDNgexoKfYxCB8w-PcF/s4032/24C5AA91-66D4-4ED7-927A-012E0C74031A.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Bc7ZzG2jDYc9gO-NvFIb75eX_UMoEn_XSYKFCzV_a0NCx_Td-wo3TxKXo7odsRl9lT3UqzVkcB-Wkom6Dk3dcyYAtCK1qwnA8fOiJNUoxrsOHdPewJK6eQA2jqXTZPUJqvY5pM-d-5o6jjBrJOTbhxDcGNK6jjmZP9pTdUi74DDNgexoKfYxCB8w-PcF/s320/24C5AA91-66D4-4ED7-927A-012E0C74031A.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-60562654567416271702024-01-18T00:46:00.003-05:002024-01-18T00:46:21.480-05:00wilderness Chick-fil-A<p>I have so many precious pictures from these last days that barely sum up all the happy noise and joyful moments! Dad's grandkiddos love the stuffing out of one another, and throwing them all together in one house with freezing temperatures for 3 days (that turned into 4.5 days!) was a GIFT. Cindy joined us for a few of the days, and I'm just thankful for all the good memories and echoing giggles and precious family.</p><p>I don't say this often, but the house with 8 tonight was awfully quiet! <i>There is nothing better than a sister-friend.</i></p><p>Lisa and Adam are safely home to Philadelphia tonight, Cindy to Florida and Matt is almost to Aspen...only 48 hours later than planned, dozens of delayed and cancelled flights, and a good 30 hours in Dallas. Whew. The fridge is empty and our hearts are full.</p><p>We were blessed out of the blue tonight with a woman I've never met dropping by Chick-fil-A for dinner, and while she apologized profusely for a store-bought meal, it was one of those Hagar moments for me. Low on energy and food and single-parenting--all realities she was entirely unaware of--God saw me and the kiddos and took care of me beyond what was necessity. He showed tender, loving, extra care, resulting in rejoicing, giddy teens with a jumbo tray of nuggets, and a damp-eyed mama with crazy hair and paper plates.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4y_zNshrlzJaUmkNO-yQtfhy0V3BBvob6TzBivN17amUqMGFhew4lydTdABzWO_HInHTiLv_VGnJ1JcN50VIC60jG_KfbQeNF0hqye0TCSLyw-TR5Irxfm5bzl7Z3yV9RM55_wnBR2KqdNfTd75u9B61sFEkzv_Wi163M2uAUmg9wgGjIAjmGDRcqH1q/s2100/IMG_1884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1575" data-original-width="2100" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4y_zNshrlzJaUmkNO-yQtfhy0V3BBvob6TzBivN17amUqMGFhew4lydTdABzWO_HInHTiLv_VGnJ1JcN50VIC60jG_KfbQeNF0hqye0TCSLyw-TR5Irxfm5bzl7Z3yV9RM55_wnBR2KqdNfTd75u9B61sFEkzv_Wi163M2uAUmg9wgGjIAjmGDRcqH1q/w400-h300/IMG_1884.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>I don't know how He does it, again and again, with <i>so much</i> to see. </p><p>I guess if His eye is on the sparrow, sending one of His daughters with the right meal at the right time is <i>no stretch. </i>We are no stretch for Him, family, not even in our weakest, neediest times. He rejoices to search us out in our wildernesses and tears and rejoices to give us living water. What grace.</p><p>I guess He can be trusted with Matt, 22 hours away, resting and healing and being poured into, being <i>seen</i>. I guess He can be trusted with my sister and precious nieces, short on family and big on His heart. I guess He can be trusted with these seven dear ones I tempt to worry over, GOOD plans for them each that I can't mess up. I guess He can be trusted with this new season of stepping out on Him in new places with new people in new ways, not on our own strength and understanding. </p><p>This is how we grow, and how good He is to grow us!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluCgwk8fbuZd7n1Ra64JUSuRMIqY0T_Av1Cu19GJD9HCGVTK4xlp0dxYLkCxCuALBiIZYXdi53K1Zg07Hs8iv9_F2oW49BgARUn0A0dwyWc3RjLQqCX1lzzOB48e98BxaRupSw25ME_xwcthyphenhyphenR4-uRjKG7rHHU5Bf2ODhyBpWm_pAFvYo71OuP6VXtcXk/s4032/IMG_1602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgluCgwk8fbuZd7n1Ra64JUSuRMIqY0T_Av1Cu19GJD9HCGVTK4xlp0dxYLkCxCuALBiIZYXdi53K1Zg07Hs8iv9_F2oW49BgARUn0A0dwyWc3RjLQqCX1lzzOB48e98BxaRupSw25ME_xwcthyphenhyphenR4-uRjKG7rHHU5Bf2ODhyBpWm_pAFvYo71OuP6VXtcXk/w300-h400/IMG_1602.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1I-yD7lAElAZcfSZ5UqhnF5CmsSXpjJqZJkhiXsN3mecakZJp13s26-PTaxqi3GeFJajDzdklrQ43XtPZLlYJb-Gws3RyPi_j6s2K8wLA6yAaoFxi0K-l6VbA-EosVP3wPR8hHSeIi862ZOfeVZ-n2qGmgMvd64ti0vIq3OlBvJYXPk1BpZYxLDz83ts/s2100/IMG_1855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1575" data-original-width="2100" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo1I-yD7lAElAZcfSZ5UqhnF5CmsSXpjJqZJkhiXsN3mecakZJp13s26-PTaxqi3GeFJajDzdklrQ43XtPZLlYJb-Gws3RyPi_j6s2K8wLA6yAaoFxi0K-l6VbA-EosVP3wPR8hHSeIi862ZOfeVZ-n2qGmgMvd64ti0vIq3OlBvJYXPk1BpZYxLDz83ts/w400-h300/IMG_1855.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-24232409649507864592024-01-14T14:52:00.003-05:002024-01-14T14:52:25.603-05:00not always<p><i>Oh, Dad. </i></p><p>Today a year ago was the last time I saw my dad, and I knew when I left that next time would be healed and whole, soon and also not. I knew my heart was full and broken, and today it just. still. is. </p><p>Full I had a mom and dad who made it their aim to be empty of them and overflowing with Him. Full I had a dad who stepped into mom and dad, grandpa and grandma. Full I had a dad who became Matt's, too, who always called and checked on us, who remembered hard days and birth days and job interviews and doctors appointments and victories. Full I had a dad who came, who called, who cheered, who cared. </p><p>Full that this day last year, saying goodbye, Lisa and Cindy and Adam and Aunt Sharon were with me...what grace!...and full that today began at church with Lisa and Cindy and Adam and my nieces and Matt and my dear children. </p><p>Full, most, that while I don't begin to understand how God could possibly redeem these losses--as if they'd never been suffered--I don't want to. I'm not interested in redemption I can wrap my finite brain around, not interested in work small enough for my own calculations, not interested in timelines I can mark in my calendar.</p><p>Cried all night and cried through my shower, heart full as it is.</p><p>And that's just part of it, this side.</p><p>Not without hope, and not without tears. Not all broken and not all complete, a year later. But not always.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyMN2Y8c6T4cx_8440cauCqAcL4R-6GDyuRypPitlpUbB5KlgnbPGlfKqm79z6JVvEV4eNd1Wf-a2qYczMXdENeRxWC6H_vB9Mbe98vyYHJXowI4UGmo2mjllgA8OJmVv3XQ6NTbZMRa7cxkM3aTrakbxAbUV3eyMc7f_dqB8rHgorAnXihIytE08ofRT/s3741/081CACB3-CD81-4946-A5D0-8B4DE793DA27%203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3741" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWyMN2Y8c6T4cx_8440cauCqAcL4R-6GDyuRypPitlpUbB5KlgnbPGlfKqm79z6JVvEV4eNd1Wf-a2qYczMXdENeRxWC6H_vB9Mbe98vyYHJXowI4UGmo2mjllgA8OJmVv3XQ6NTbZMRa7cxkM3aTrakbxAbUV3eyMc7f_dqB8rHgorAnXihIytE08ofRT/s320/081CACB3-CD81-4946-A5D0-8B4DE793DA27%203.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-33814612834434514692024-01-11T23:08:00.004-05:002024-01-11T23:08:43.351-05:00living from receiving <p>Yesterday the Lord and I had a moment. </p><p>Not a passing fancy or an emotional highlight.</p><p>One of those sacred-ground revelations that you can't walk away from picking up where you started. One of those holy moments where He shows you His perspective, and it trumps all you had been holding on to.</p><p>It came from a thought of O.Chambers, that <i>the only sign that a person is saved is that he has received something from Jesus.</i> He noted that many Christians' eyes are open, but they have received nothing from Him...<i>salvation means that we are brought to the place where we are able to receive something from God on the authority of Jesus, forgiveness of sins.</i></p><p>As God was walking me through that idea, He took it one further. </p><p>I have been dwelling for a long time in a place of my own strength. </p><p>I have been walking with Jesus from a place of my very best efforts, my utmost for His glory. I've been walking with Him holding onto my losses...some life has brought, like my dad, some people have brought, like wrongs I've suffered or disappointments I've shouldered. I try to bear all the costs, and try to dig deeply in Him, and try to trust Him and walk in that.</p><p>But He showed me yesterday that He wants me walking out of this incredibly heavy and dark season from a place of <i><b>giving only what I have received from Him</b></i>. Of holding onto only what I have received from Him. </p><p>Have I not received from Him the richness of His grace, mercy, forgiveness? Have I not received from Him so many good gifts? Have I not received from Him His help and power and love?</p><p>What if I walked--instead of in what life has dealt me washed with a holy perspective--simply in the reality of what I have received from Him? Only from Him?</p><p>What if what I received from others, from myself, from life, didn't matter? What if my whole focus was on what I am receiving from Him?</p><p>What if all I gave, every day, was what I've received from Him?</p><p>Not from the depths of my efforts, not from my best decisions, not from my own forgiveness and grace and strength. What if I lived in a place of pouring out what I've received from Him, dwelling close and extending from one hand what I'm receiving from Him with the other?</p><p>How many distractions have kept me from this image of abandoned living! </p><p>And how quickly He showed me a line in the sand, and a few things I needed to do, immediately, to set out on this new course.</p><p>While I have been trying to forgive, He has extended SUCH forgiveness to me, the God against whom all sins stand! When looking at the injuries and trying to forgive, I am begrudging and slow and hesitant and hurting. I can GIVE forgiveness, true and deep, because I have RECEIVED it from Him, Eyes on Jesus!</p><p>That strength and courage for a new season which I have been trying to muster in Him, can I not rely instead on the source, receiving strength and wisdom from Him for each new day and circumstance, and depend only on THAT? Is it possible that I could walk into today with NO strength of my own, from NONE of my best efforts, and instead sit so close to Him that I am receiving His strength, and living on THAT alone?</p><p>His goodness is running AFTER us, friends! Is not HIS goodness more than enough to be OUR goodness for today? Aren't the riches I receive daily from Him enough to be the richness I'm dolling out?</p><p>Is not the great patience I receive continually from Him more than enough patience to glorify Him in my daily living?</p><p>Is not His authority on the future enough for mine?</p><p>Could I live in a constant state of receiving from God, and giving what I'm receiving? Would that life not look a whole lot more like Him, and cut what I'm receiving from myself and the world out of the equation?</p><p>His eyes on this lifted a veil on mine, and I quickly crossed the line He drew and signed up for it, reaching out to a few people I couldn't bring myself to reach out to....having a few conversations I couldn't imagine ever being able to have, until I took my eyes off of what I've received from them and caught a glimpse of the sacred abundance I've received from Him. </p><p>How faithful the Lord has been to be healing and preparing me for this next season, giving others what He's given me, sharing what He's shared with me...just a beggar, showing the other beggars where the bread is. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJACyMN4KhLxYPAxWCKfW29PmA-f50Ssy6UrcT_M16QYbeGVrmv0M6qBwc9r3K7088NsuGSwWABP5VIYCjr9jHvoGd9hegp0RJqM6QTQT9cne_liGuX-zYdqWPI8SvTiVBIvf_oXpuZUFEZOAkHT1XrsQp1HhgXiC8jLCSpKXoJrripiILWbB6vCC7sGMo/s5184/hold%20hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJACyMN4KhLxYPAxWCKfW29PmA-f50Ssy6UrcT_M16QYbeGVrmv0M6qBwc9r3K7088NsuGSwWABP5VIYCjr9jHvoGd9hegp0RJqM6QTQT9cne_liGuX-zYdqWPI8SvTiVBIvf_oXpuZUFEZOAkHT1XrsQp1HhgXiC8jLCSpKXoJrripiILWbB6vCC7sGMo/w400-h266/hold%20hands.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />That was long :)<p></p><p>Make a list of what you've received from Him...and see if it doesn't change how you head into today.</p><p>love you precious prayer warriors</p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-64764511198446096162024-01-08T15:56:00.003-05:002024-01-08T15:56:56.256-05:00perspective<p>This is no exciting new concept, but as I've been reading through Mark it has struck me again and again how His perspective was totally different than ours. How limited we are in what we see, still being amphibious, both graced with the spiritual and limited to the physical. </p><p>Jesus's perspective on things was nuts. And solo. And often impossible. </p><p>And yet, He was always the one who was right in the end.</p><p>The little girl, even mama knew, was dead. She was gone, but Jesus said she was just sleeping. And the same people who laughed at Him, tears in their eyes, were the ones who went and got her something to eat when she sat up. Those five loaves and two fish weren't even a sufficient snack for anyone, and Jesus said they were a feast, and for 5000. Those waves everyone saw as threats He saw as roads. Those sisters, they said if Jesus had been there, their brother would still be alive, and Jesus wept and said that he <i>was</i>. That suffering woman who spent every penny, who every doctor had perceived in the end as hopeless, saw that 'as many who touched Him were made well', and she <i>was</i>. </p><p>From everyone's perspective that giant was shaking down armies, and God's perspective was that it was child's play. So much everyone saw as good, God saw evil, what man saw was right, God saw wrong, what man thought was truth, God knew the lie, what people saw wise, God knew foolish. What man saw as hopeless God had already made a way, what many saw as clear as day God saw as small.</p><p>We are so limited with our own perspectives...our shoes are the only ones we can truly stand in. Yet. </p><p>Our mighty God is gracious to share with us HIS perspective, HIS view, ANY time we want it more than our very understanding...ANY time we beg for His eyes more than our own hearts. </p><p>His perspective always seems to come with a cross, and there are often drops of blood on the path that follows closely the King crowned in thorns. </p><p>But His view also comes with all we need to obey, with all we need to grow, with all we need for His priceless peace and power.</p><p>What or who are you seeing plain and simple, friends, that He might just have a radically different perspective on?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-7JiJ7lxiiPvJbN5YMi-VsEbKAFCERCd3YXKyKgjdtSuQXUVrSBtGXFha6gvrniWT4cniK9bRUjwPm6S3sF3qVfVcQFNU0ECuDBFM6hbESBUoMFlJOSKZFbfGHSCpXEeWMfEQvuSv0zy76TDQld17ek_lbDPa9-RSImJikVw4FV4yZk553M_yXhQipMm/s3264/feet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-7JiJ7lxiiPvJbN5YMi-VsEbKAFCERCd3YXKyKgjdtSuQXUVrSBtGXFha6gvrniWT4cniK9bRUjwPm6S3sF3qVfVcQFNU0ECuDBFM6hbESBUoMFlJOSKZFbfGHSCpXEeWMfEQvuSv0zy76TDQld17ek_lbDPa9-RSImJikVw4FV4yZk553M_yXhQipMm/s320/feet.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-39698876382038650392024-01-07T15:19:00.000-05:002024-01-07T15:19:35.562-05:00Ayars PrayersOur church launched into another 21 days of prayer and fasting this morning, a time of resetting, regrounding and refocusing that is always so sweet (and early :). <div><br /></div><div>As we went through the Lord's Prayer piece by piece this morning, the Lord worked me through His sovereignty, His provision, His conviction, His forgiveness. I started to protest at one point, noting that my specific circumstances surely call for some exception to identifying closely with the Lord and following in His footsteps to the cross, and He reminded me rapidly that I have NO grievance He Himself has not experienced or understood, and also brought into complete submission to the Father. We have no exceptions, no excuses.</div><div><br /></div><div>The image of Him walking before me and asking me to step carefully in His footsteps appeared, and a few painful places I have been wanting to walk my own way alongside of Him He asked me instead to walk the very way He walked...in sacrifice, in forgiveness, in trust, in obedience. </div><div><br /></div><div>I told Him that was far more painful than my own way. He reminded me He was dragging a cross, so, <i>duh. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>And so I stepped. Right in His footprint. "So closely," Matt keeps reminding me, "That we can't help but overflow anything but Him, just Him. By default."</div><div><br /></div><div>So here's how you can be praying for the Ayars this new season of clinging and stepping out in Him!</div><div><br /></div><div>After 17 years of training pastors, recruiting pastors, equipping pastors and raising-up pastors, the Lord has clearly guided our family to come alongside a new church plant. As Matt and Wesley Biblical Seminary have been helping Methodist congregations to find new homes, denominations, pastors and resources, Matt's been preaching in and counseling dozens of congregations and attending Global Methodist conferences around the nation. </div><div><br /></div><div>The Lord had really warmed his heart, months ago, to one specific body of shepherd-less believers, and over the last weeks we have been praying and fasting alongside of them and feel it would be simple obedience to join them. </div><div><br /></div><div>Matt shepherding this family will mean NO traveling, which will be the <i>first season</i> since Lily was born that did not include Matt being gone much of the time (He was previously scheduled to be gone all four weekends of January, for example!). I can't evening imagine what this will look like, but we are looking FORWARD to it! It will also be the first time since 2005 (that is 19 years, friends) that he will not be responsible for massive fund-raising (which our family and many other families depend upon!), which means that sitting down to lunch with a friend or mentor or stranger for the Gospel can for the first time just be lunch with a friend or mentor or stranger for the Gospel, and not a fund-raising necessity or opportunity. </div><div><br /></div><div>It will also mean lots of preaching and teaching and using of Matt's gifts in one place, calling and family instead of in fifty, and again, we don't know what that's going to look like exactly, but mama is looking forward to it. It will also mean serving alongside him again as his wife and family--as we did at Emmaus and were not really able do at/through WBS--and I'm looking forward to this as well!</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, we have been talking for 20 years about the need for more trusted leaders and faithful churches, and it is a stretching, humbling, blessing-burden to continue to be a part of THAT sacred and challenging work.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meanwhile, we have continued to block off January for continued healing, rest, resetting and restoration, and next week, with the help of some gracious and faithful friends, Matt heads to a ten day intensive crisis counseling retreat in Colorado for pastors, missionaries and Christian leaders, something we shoulda done a long time ago! We are so grateful for this healing and life-giving opportunity and would love your extra prayers, January 16-26. </div><div><br /></div><div>Please continue to pray for our kiddos and hearts and faithfulness and focus on Him through these transitions! </div><div><br /></div><div>If we're starting new, we're asking the Lord to leave no high place standing, no rock unturned, no wound unhealed, no work unattended, no self-sufficiency dethroned, no selfish ambition still rooted. If He's bringing us out of broken, we're refusing to move until He's done breaking or allowing to break anything He will...refusing to move on until He's at work healing each place, His way. The cause of Christ is too precious, too sacred, to not do the all the work He has brought us painfully and graciously to, and to come out on the other side looking a whole lot more like Him!</div><div><br /></div><div>More like Him, that brings me Hope! Opportunities for more like Him, that brings me Joy.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>If He's brought us this far....</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Love you all and your faithful friendship and prayers.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwa0qsGGJI-WCfZfofGhe6yKjy-8KbLX0SDH7tMw692TwtjzsGHM-QgzTLBUqfQCaiQsrzk2ShXUOwlFcJ8paDsWEXbmf069qKHqd7wXUMvs0qBAgoEBGsRLvs4MuJNgSTw77T3xZXvnJEzLy8jRJP3PkZ5aby6U96EEX7gLYUGw5VscR0Iggot4dt2ID/s1600/matt%20churches.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwa0qsGGJI-WCfZfofGhe6yKjy-8KbLX0SDH7tMw692TwtjzsGHM-QgzTLBUqfQCaiQsrzk2ShXUOwlFcJ8paDsWEXbmf069qKHqd7wXUMvs0qBAgoEBGsRLvs4MuJNgSTw77T3xZXvnJEzLy8jRJP3PkZ5aby6U96EEX7gLYUGw5VscR0Iggot4dt2ID/w400-h300/matt%20churches.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-10130608817179352672024-01-05T10:03:00.000-05:002024-01-05T10:03:05.496-05:00build<p> <i>No matter what changes God has performed in you, never rely on them. Build only on a Person, the Lord Jesus Christ, and on the Spirit He gives. </i></p><p><i>All our promises and resolutions end in denial because we have no power to accomplish them. Build only and all on a Person. </i></p><p>Yes, I'm back with Oswald Chambers this year, going through the well worn pages of simple, hard truth again, and this idea of "eyes on Jesus" keeps repeating in our new year over and over. </p><p>When we come completely to the end of ourselves and all our self-sufficiency--which these last many weeks have brought us to--we are finally able to receive all that the risen Lord has for us...and it's just more of Himself. </p><p>Spending these days as close to Him as we can, starting and finishing and packing in between all of the listening and studying and learning and leaning that we can has been so sweet...we're just gonna stay here for a while! </p><p>Meanwhile, the crew is back to school...something like herding a family of reluctant sloths :). I'm so thankful for Beth and Dawn and the prayers of many, helping us get moving again. I'm thankful for Sarah, one of Lily's best friends from Haiti, who spent the last week with us celebrating Lily. I'm so thankful for Lily, now somehow 15, and the sweet and kind friends she celebrated with. I'm thankful for precious kiddos to minister to, always keeping our eyes on Him. I'm thankful for friends who love us and love our children, period. With or without. Here or there. Up or down. I'm thankful--these past days that were SO miserable last year with Dad suffering, truly suffering--for his complete and total healing and freedom, standing in awe and fullness at the throne from which my daily bread comes. </p><p>I'm also thankful for new roads He is bringing us to, and for His help He is making available again and again in ways big and small. How many times this last year I have prayed simply, urgently, "<i>Lord, help</i>" and while not always clear in the moment, it has come, again and again. In many sleepless nights, in many broken places, in many hopeless situations, the Lord has met me with His power and tender care and as such I cannot regret them. </p><p>The parts of myself, of others, of life that I have relied on dwindle, eyes on Jesus. </p><p><i>There is now only One who directs the house of your life. </i></p><p>A new day comes. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEil0m62AeIDL6VmAblGE8eRcW5Bfsl5fFeR3iHh2V7bokbs_Cev5Anby_Sltiv9-FwuNsnJkf9vTl91zFtywX7QXwnfKqiSxRVaTzNNtY-lIwUVsDDfBMFA7dMlnZJ_qp4xoz5Mv53jvsMeaFWch1MB6yQStU9BJg71VQexI0wJSzN57BhcwtFp0H76KHcH" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEil0m62AeIDL6VmAblGE8eRcW5Bfsl5fFeR3iHh2V7bokbs_Cev5Anby_Sltiv9-FwuNsnJkf9vTl91zFtywX7QXwnfKqiSxRVaTzNNtY-lIwUVsDDfBMFA7dMlnZJ_qp4xoz5Mv53jvsMeaFWch1MB6yQStU9BJg71VQexI0wJSzN57BhcwtFp0H76KHcH=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4VCu8-1U14FNtNE2r0QCAXDmJCHF37JCujTWi6yW7X-3GO_Z6QTtC51YdXAWg_eQedZYP1LlJffRID0U1XkWSGe4mdrvbIOHnNzE-vEy3wQoFi1z9J-e2h-PiV4dQ_JdAe6ZadcxbB9no-8QoNPH47jORrRdmKhB6w0ZZ62_NwwXErFyij3DKmq9LEzNo" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4VCu8-1U14FNtNE2r0QCAXDmJCHF37JCujTWi6yW7X-3GO_Z6QTtC51YdXAWg_eQedZYP1LlJffRID0U1XkWSGe4mdrvbIOHnNzE-vEy3wQoFi1z9J-e2h-PiV4dQ_JdAe6ZadcxbB9no-8QoNPH47jORrRdmKhB6w0ZZ62_NwwXErFyij3DKmq9LEzNo=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3JD-9QH_aQZRqPYdC7ERAfMKfF-KvEzIaDHqWTfd2SK5TmSMxNfq7rQI1g2mcEtdtNCg6W6DawZtzIRF1w0dMn2s9mb1X22MdeDeogb74ngzYml99MA8bolMbujUY9YcSUajXNRQKxFhgMxM1LwZPBvxo0f-ZRw5lL-Ni0Uu6RzU0CLjDCLiNlpwmlb-b" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3JD-9QH_aQZRqPYdC7ERAfMKfF-KvEzIaDHqWTfd2SK5TmSMxNfq7rQI1g2mcEtdtNCg6W6DawZtzIRF1w0dMn2s9mb1X22MdeDeogb74ngzYml99MA8bolMbujUY9YcSUajXNRQKxFhgMxM1LwZPBvxo0f-ZRw5lL-Ni0Uu6RzU0CLjDCLiNlpwmlb-b=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMGDBeGrB4OdmLe6CIbEXWZZSIgVV-WUUANmh7CKc3bDPZE7JFLm-CNuJjSdSQ9hHLIOFD3gWQQHXnD7dNPxdt1PEVPQkAIYZw7sfM54V2sQWlEYyY7ZDT17EFSquTKnO6bVc37Ta0zTsS1RKfMa1g-LZA9JEq8tTzHOkvT-BvTN8yM98pZxsKX6unb8l5" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMGDBeGrB4OdmLe6CIbEXWZZSIgVV-WUUANmh7CKc3bDPZE7JFLm-CNuJjSdSQ9hHLIOFD3gWQQHXnD7dNPxdt1PEVPQkAIYZw7sfM54V2sQWlEYyY7ZDT17EFSquTKnO6bVc37Ta0zTsS1RKfMa1g-LZA9JEq8tTzHOkvT-BvTN8yM98pZxsKX6unb8l5=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0JPuf-gOP380AFcMkc4He5AnS7TsEgh_TMoGJCWDUqRqSWfGz32vGG9TGVsHW51A7tNj0pOKY2nUFOAZE1T5-8G3JssN5_iXyfW7JBzY3GWYGHo8--OuZfylKmzeFW6wXRU_llbeyN7D5x7yNrtikWTaW_e3vDiUy4ySImvEciV-xpjIBfUga-tIXltDB" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1440" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0JPuf-gOP380AFcMkc4He5AnS7TsEgh_TMoGJCWDUqRqSWfGz32vGG9TGVsHW51A7tNj0pOKY2nUFOAZE1T5-8G3JssN5_iXyfW7JBzY3GWYGHo8--OuZfylKmzeFW6wXRU_llbeyN7D5x7yNrtikWTaW_e3vDiUy4ySImvEciV-xpjIBfUga-tIXltDB=w400-h301" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz-5VLMY5yhILtBb32Bgog7COOVeQsjr1_Dok2VfWEXhKA6WyWVv-ibK9VzwtgvBWqiELLYzfeOaNGQ-kzDet6K5o_i7DpQ4bifQcOyBoq-wX217H-VqX0EfHA1U2broXLki9IEMwJDTrqfU2ntf7N5LIhmTKuvvNj-ZF-qSjjGNp5WXlSgeieIl1c3OgM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiz-5VLMY5yhILtBb32Bgog7COOVeQsjr1_Dok2VfWEXhKA6WyWVv-ibK9VzwtgvBWqiELLYzfeOaNGQ-kzDet6K5o_i7DpQ4bifQcOyBoq-wX217H-VqX0EfHA1U2broXLki9IEMwJDTrqfU2ntf7N5LIhmTKuvvNj-ZF-qSjjGNp5WXlSgeieIl1c3OgM=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-39035751136744187202023-12-30T16:48:00.003-05:002023-12-30T16:48:21.415-05:00God rains<p>I am thankful for what the Lord is doing. </p><p>I am grateful for the way His care truly IS ever tender. Even when it is stretching, even when it is hard, even when it has felt brutal...it IS tender and His love is just lining every corner. </p><p>We have several dear friends we have been praying with for many years with over the pain of grown children living far from Him. We have several dear friends battling harsh disease. We have several dear friends in broken places with broken hearts, and we have just been sitting with them this season seeing that His care is ever tender as He draws near the crushed in spirit, as He helps us cling to His promises. </p><p>I am grateful for the friends who have been ever tender, too, those who have risked saying the wrong thing and instead have just communicated that they love us. Those who have wept because we're weeping. Those who have been praying without even knowing how. </p><p>The Lord's been so gracious to show me bits of His big picture for me and for us...and it doesn't focus much on the details, but on who He is. He is a good and worthy and steady and true thing to cling to...the only good and true thing...and this uncomfortable season of clinging has us sweeter and softer, looking more like Him. Eyes on Jesus.</p><p>There are still things to wrestle with. Still griefs to grieve through. Still some old wounds to address. Still some healthy roads and boundaries to trace until they become rutted. </p><p><i>But the Spirit and the Bride say, "Come." And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price. </i>Rev 22:17</p><p>And all this makes us thirsty. And all there is to do is come. </p><p>Everything we are and everything we have is because God rains on the just and unjust, sitting on the throne, King forever. <i>May the Lord give strength to His people, and bless His people with peace. </i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8TBbnYKIAcR74g_TPqH27i-BIsDD7ghnyZ12H209-rcyChyphenhyphenD5gguDijnzX6V0n3yvhx-ESgks2T28bPgEE2BIoAZrONIGH_hz0TD4AR4qkrWjfyMZsgKAneKs_JKGwukyM92rnkm4VUmfTJcoikcRpWB7etAvwl-AlPN4FbRQjz6yYPeG2KQECMBzAQm/s4032/IMG_1261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn8TBbnYKIAcR74g_TPqH27i-BIsDD7ghnyZ12H209-rcyChyphenhyphenD5gguDijnzX6V0n3yvhx-ESgks2T28bPgEE2BIoAZrONIGH_hz0TD4AR4qkrWjfyMZsgKAneKs_JKGwukyM92rnkm4VUmfTJcoikcRpWB7etAvwl-AlPN4FbRQjz6yYPeG2KQECMBzAQm/w400-h300/IMG_1261.JPG" width="400" /></a></i></div><i><br /></i><p></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-90536969733107679722023-12-28T21:37:00.002-05:002023-12-28T21:37:37.257-05:00oil<p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I read this today and it met me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; font-size: medium; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> Your calling is going to crush you.</i></span></span></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>If you are called to mend the brokenhearted, you are going to wrestle with a broken heart. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>If you are called to heal <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>God’s little ones, you are going to experience your own share of trauma. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>If you’re called to preach and teach the gospel, you WILL be sifted for the wisdom that anoints your message. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>If you are called to empower, your self-esteem will be attacked- your successes hard fought. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>Your calling will come with spiritual warfare and a sifting - BOTH are necessary for your mantle to be authentic, humble and powerful. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>Your crushing won’t be easy because your assignment is not easy - and you can’t minister POWERFULLY what you haven’t walked out. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od" style="display: inline-flex; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle; width: 16px;"></span>When you’re feeling the weight of it coming down on you, RUN to the Father who longs to be your comfort. Let him whisper your true identity over you while resting under the shadow of his wings. Position yourself against his heartbeat. Let him renew your strength and set your eyes forward. </i></span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="caret-color: rgb(5, 5, 5); color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>No olives, no oil. </i></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>No grapes, no wine.</i></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><i>Your oil is not cheap my friend.</i></span></div></div>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2048027735293729736.post-71170481169416583832023-12-27T09:47:00.006-05:002023-12-28T14:19:10.631-05:00eyes on Jesus<p>The joy of Christmas yesterday for our kiddos was through a filter of darkness for Matt and I. This is the hardest season we have ever been in. Our commitment these days has been to each have our devotional time with Him, and not finish the time until He is finished, until we have found Him, until we have reached His peace and truth. It's made for days filled with reading and praise and prayer and fasting all in between the children and the days' activities, and we're finding Him in the dark. </p><p>But yesterday, every time I found Him, a text, an email, a concern, a thought, a fear, a loss, an emotion would settle in, and in moments I was thrown off again, reeling.</p><p>Every time we were well grounded in Him before, we have always had a full-time job and ministry (and my dad!). We were grounded in Him, surely, but always there was a safety net, an identity, a purpose, a provision that we had outside of Him. </p><p>To be in a truly open-handed season of trust? Man. That is hard, this is hard. Again, for the millionth time, He is asking me if we trust Him, and WE DO. I do. But. </p><p>What-ifs plague me. Looking back plagues me. Little injustices and hurts plague me. Looking ahead shakes me. Have you been there?</p><p>Something about Christmas yesterday, without Dad, even with all the richness, I just could not keep my head above water internally. I couldn't get there. I couldn't shake the fear of uncertainty. The sickness of disappointing people, or potentially being a disappointment. The holes I can't see Him filling with Himself.</p><p>I struggled all day through happiness and joy and cooking and cleaning and playing for the kiddos, with the kiddos, begging the Lord to help me, and finally reaching out to two friends last night to help me.</p><p><i>The story is not over, </i>one wrote, and I realized instantly she spoke truth and a glimmer of hope returned.</p><p><i>Stop it, eyes on Jesus! </i>wrote the other, a splash of cold water when I needed it, and a glimmer of truth returned.</p><p>'Cause honestly, there's never been a time when so much noise has clamored for my attention. The devil is all racket, and it's been hard to hear His voice through the thoughts of many and the fears from myself. Have you been there?</p><p><i>Eyes on Jesus....</i>Nothing has changed. Not our worth. Not His plan. Not His purpose. Not His grace. </p><p><i>Eyes on Jesus</i>...He is our peace. He is our goal. He is our rock. He holds our losses, our past, our present, our future, our children. </p><p><i>Eyes on Jesus...</i>His throne is not shaken, He sits unchanged, and our hearts, despite this impossibly hard season, have never stopped seeking and searching and loving Him. </p><p>He is good, He is ours, He is for us, and He has good gifts for His children, and He is not finished, <i>eyes on Jesus.</i></p><p>While Christmas can make the hard things feel harder...it's "Eyes on Jesus!" to its very core. Every shepherd and wise man gathered 'round reminds me. <i>And the Jesus we are fixed on has come and is HERE. </i></p><p>I keep finding my hands full of worry and doubt and sadness, and I'm just bringing Him one burden after another, again and again. It is a battle, dear ones, and we are fighting it. We are clinging to Him. He has won this battle, and eyes on Jesus, we are going to, too. </p><p>If you're in a dark night of the soul with us, I am lifting you up and trusting Him with you!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSy_8YK2V_J1OK-b30GRyUwR06pBLh95-Zzuco-bG042P-XWZFiu6iZIRfyipWkKdAJBorj5dGZMSp7ftHRiDyNQjSIV67u5WwpoIPRd9jvo5q9yEa31XQTrRR46P6GHlJ3Bh4q2jMKnvZndfMdBjB13h3uGLrDpOgYSNI_NY5Mo6VA0Ivn_ruIKeGxPW/s4032/IMG_1091%202.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSy_8YK2V_J1OK-b30GRyUwR06pBLh95-Zzuco-bG042P-XWZFiu6iZIRfyipWkKdAJBorj5dGZMSp7ftHRiDyNQjSIV67u5WwpoIPRd9jvo5q9yEa31XQTrRR46P6GHlJ3Bh4q2jMKnvZndfMdBjB13h3uGLrDpOgYSNI_NY5Mo6VA0Ivn_ruIKeGxPW/s320/IMG_1091%202.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Stacey Ayarshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18204505465489880223noreply@blogger.com1