When your life is a little different from your list…
The chatting and the chicken dying weren’t on my list. Early that morning I’d numbered it neatly in my planner:
- Baking
- Homeschool
- Finish Romans study
- Blog Post
- Work on book
I was still in my jammies when I began the baking, following my familiar weekly ritual of letting the yeast foam for the first loaf of bread, chopping onions for roasted veggies, pulling up Pinterest for the cake recipe. We watch 2-year-old Grace on Tuesdays, so she woke up shortly thereafter and I gathered her sleepy-eyed sweetness in my arms and finished making breakfast, sipping a second cup of coffee, savoring the thought of a domestic day at home.
For the most part, all was well. Chores were done without argument, school began without tears. Then I could feel the tension begin just a bit as math frustrations arose, focus slipped, mishaps happened. By lunch time I had yet to brush my teeth but school was done and baking was done and no one was injured — win!
“Let’s go outside!” I announced cheerfully, figuring once I got them out and happily occupied, I could sit on the porch and get the rest of my work done–studying and writing. But I soon discovered a toddler had tossed something into the chicken coop and it needed immediate retrieval, so I donned my mud boots and headed out to the rescue.
I looked for that one little feathered friend, Checkers, the sickly one, and there she was: Standing sadly right inside the gate. I saved the tossed-in toy, fed the girls, fetched the eggs, and was heading out when the kids gathered ‘round: “Mommy, let’s let Checkers out in the yard for awhile.”
So I nudged Checkers gently with the gate, to urge her out of the coop, but she took one slow step to the side, keeled over into the mud, and as three poor wide-eyed children watched, died.
Oh no.
“Guys, go play over there!” I try to say it cheerfully but Grace points and begins repeating, “Chick’n dead! Chick’n dead!” Heidi’s eyes spring up with tears and Dutch runs to the other corner of the yard and stares into the sky.
And just like that, I watch everything unravel. Thankfully, Jeff zips home to dispose of the dead chicken, but now the oven timer is chiming, Grace is peeing her pants, Dutch is protesting our impending Nature Walk, and Heidi’s sad that Daddy has to go back to work and isn’t here to play. I plate up a big lunch for Jeff, with fresh-made bread and roasted veggies, a special feast to thank him, then set it on the porch railing for him, and within moments it’s bumped over by a certain small person and it splats on the ground.
I can’t help but think it: None of this was on my list.
Right? Of course it wasn’t, because lists are helpful but ridiculously tidy. Life isn’t anything like that.
LIFE looks like this: Tears and peed pants and chickens dying and attitudes needing adjusting and timers chiming and if we have the idea that victory is a day without mishaps, we’re sunk before we start.
Right? Repeat after me: Lists are tidy. Life isn’t.
So when I finally sit down to write in my impossibly narrow window of time and there’s a knock on the door, and it’s someone who just swung by to chat (can you believe it?!), I smile to myself and choose to embrace this moment because this person is more important than my page-count and this life is more important than my list.
By the time she leaves, I can see so much clearer. And so my kitchen’s still a mess but I’ve scratched out these thoughts and will choose my children now instead of the last list-item and we’ll curl up together and I’ll listen and love and hold and smile and ask the Father for grace afresh to live well this impossibly untidy life. I’ll pray that same grace for you too, because I’m guessing your life is also a little different from your list. Thanks for reading.
He is the Supply
“We are but a capacity, He is the supply.”
-AB Simpson
This quote has been open on my computer, at the top of an otherwise blank document, for several weeks. I typed it there, was interrupted (imagine that!), closed the laptop, and left it there. Every time I was feeling desperate, needing to type a blog post or needing to prepare for a speaking event, or needing to study for women’s Bible study, every time I felt inadequate or empty, I would just happen to flip open my computer, open Word, and there was this WORD just for me.
Over and over and over He’s been whispering it to my heart. You are but a capacity, I am the supply.
What does this mean?
This means if He calls me to speak to two people or two thousand people, and I feel hopelessly inadequate, it doesn’t much matter … He is the supply.
This means on the days when parenting gets hard, and I’m hitting the wall of my own ability, feeling lost and overwhelmed with how to raise a particular child, it’s ok that I’ve reached the end of myself … He is the supply.
This means when there are 55,000 words to be written in the next five months and I’m staring at blank pages and fear begins whispering, “You don’t have what it takes…” I can turn from the screen up to the Father and recall the truth … He is the supply.
This means when He leads us to a vision bigger than ourselves, and He begins cutting loose the old ways, the safe ways, the risk-free ways, and when I’m facing the free fall of faith and I’m not sure I have enough courage to go this way, I remember I don’t need to have enough anything, because He is the supply.
We all are learning to step into the unknown. It looks different for each of us, but guaranteed none of us are called to be sufficient, in and of ourselves. None of us are called to something we can handle on our own. None of us has “got what it takes” to do whatever faith-thing faces us today. Thankfully, we have a promise. His promise:
His commandments are His enablements. In other words, He will never call me to do something unless He also supplies the resources (ability) I need to do just that.
And, it’s worth noting the supply doesn’t usually come in advance. *smile* I don’t get a lump sum of resources ahead of time. When I need it, He provides it. When I step out into the “need,” into the emptiness, into the unknowing, He brings the road up to meet my feet and provides the words, wisdom, wealth, or strength to go His way.
Guaranteed.
{Resting in His limitless supply today. Happy Monday! Thank you for reading.}
Exciting News!
Hello friends. First off, I wanted to say I’m sorry that my posts have been a bit scattered lately. It’s been all I could manage to just keep dinner on the table and clean clothes in the drawers, life has been FULL. I try really hard to make my first priority protecting my kids from feeling the effects of bustle and busyness, so they are happy but it’s the blog that gets neglected!
But there’s news. Good news. Great news. Some of you have already heard, but … we finally have a publisher. Last night, in a hurried moment between dinner dishes and women’s Bible study, I signed a book contract. Sacred Mundane: Let your days transform your life comes out in 2017 and I’m thrilled.
There are probably a few of you, ol’ faithful friends, who have followed this long journey all along the way. I won’t bore you with too many details (I’ll save those for the book ;), but about 15 years ago a vision was birthed into my heart and I first wrote the words in my journal:
Sacred Mundane.
I knew, somehow, at that moment, that this was to be the manifesto of my life. And, I sensed strongly, that I was to write a book with this title. This vision came before Jeff, before kids, before speaking or blogging or any of that. This vision has been part of my whole adult life.
For ten years, I just tried to learn about it. I wasn’t actively writing, I just knew I wanted to learn more about how to see God’s power and providence in the details of life, and learn how to grow in glorifying Him in the midst of the mundane.
Nearly five years ago, Jeff lovingly shoved me out of my comfort zone. 😉 He insisted I sign up for a Writer’s Conference (“But I’m not a writer!!”), and even insisted that I schedule a meeting with a literary agent and pitch my book idea. It isn’t the least bit of an exaggeration to say that I was scared out of my mind. I lay in bed the night before, terrified. I didn’t know what to say, I hadn’t the foggiest idea what the book proposal was, let alone how to write one. And worst of all, my meeting was with “the scary guy.” I sent out desperate texts to friends asking them to pray that I didn’t throw up and that no one laughed out loud at me.
To my everlasting amazement, I loved the writer’s conference. I still remember the keynote speaker saying, “If you can do anything else, do it. But if you cannot help but write, if you cannot keep quiet about your message … then write.” I knew then, I had to write. I couldn’t not. And this message was in my bones. To my amazement, the literary agent was hugely encouraging. He told me to write a proposal, and go from there.
I was so thrilled. I remember thinking it might take a few months to find a publisher. (hahahahahahahaha!!!!)
FIVE YEARS LATER.
Almost 3 years ago, I sensed God leading me to let the dream die. Even though it was from Him, I sensed clearly I was supposed to bury it. He showed me that planting and burying look exactly the same in the moment. You dig a grave, bury the dream … and wait.
One year later, I received an email, out of the blue, from an amazing, godly, experienced, wonderful literary agent named David Sanford from Credo Communications. He wanted to represent my book and help me find a publisher. I was actually going to respond no, saying that I had let the book die and needed to let it be dead. But gratefully Jeff (blessed man!) intervened and spoke truth: This IS God bringing it to life!
And by His amazing grace, He did. One year to the day after “burying” the idea, He birthed a new vision for Sacred Mundane. He gave me fresh ideas and showed me missing parts I had missed before. And David began faithfully helping me and pitching the project before publishers.
It still took almost 2 years of that. I wanted to quit so many times. It was SO DISCOURAGING. In November, he left me a message asking me to call. I remember thinking, “I hope he’s telling me that he’s ready to quit. He probably realizes this will never happen, and is going to let me down gently and tell me he’s through.” Quite the opposite. He is amazing. So incredibly full of faith, always hopeful, joyful, upbeat, and believing God for doing what seems impossible to us.
There’s another interesting part of the story, but I’ll save that for later.
For now, I just wanted to share that I am thrilled to be partnering with Kregel to publish Sacred Mundane. I also want to ask for your patience these next 5 months as I finish the manuscript. My priority is making sure that MY mundane is still sacred; that is, I want my man and my kids to still get plenty of mama and not feel neglected. So, there may be times that blog posts are less regular. Thank you for grace.
And thank you for reading! I’m so grateful for YOU, faithful wonderful friends and fellow sojourners along this faith journey. You are such a gift to me.
And now I’m off to fold laundry. 🙂
#sacredmundane
Blindfold Dancing
{Remembering this moment, from last year, as I once again attempt to be blind to the waves and do the dance of faith.}
~
Another game? I was kind of anxious for this thing to just be over with.
It’s a terrible thing for the retreat speaker to say, I adore these ladies and we’d had a fabulous time, but it was late Saturday night, I had one more session and a long drive home ahead, and I’d just heard some disturbing news and was eager to get back home and deal with it. (You know, since it all depends on me. *smile*)
Instead, while I inwardly wrangled that worry down like a wild crocodile … they were going to play a dancing version of musical chairs.
Really? I have a thousand worries tossing to and fro inside, this crazy storm brewing in my soul and I’m sitting here watching musical chairs? Deep breath.
Ok, Lord, I trust You, I’ll look for you here.
These precious ladies situated themselves in a large circle. The leader began explaining the rules, and I was struck afresh by her joviality and joy, her easy-going attitude about everything, especially since she’s got seven kids at home including a 16-year-old daughter with Downs Syndrome.
The “chairs” for this game were the 5-gallon bean-buckets from her pantry. Someone sits on pinto, another on Great Northern. This lady knows mundane faith.
But as the five chosen contestants situated themselves around the musical buckets, she interrupts my daydreaming admiration by mentioning the final detail:
“Oh, and you’ll be dancing blindfolded.”
My interest piques every so slightly. Blindfold dancing? I’ve seen this before, at a college retreat, and can attest to the fact that it is, perhaps, the funniest thing on the planet.
But this was even better.
This was a group, not of college students who are used to being footloose and free, this was a group of middle-aged women. This was a group wearing color-coordinating eternity-scarves and neat strands of pearls. These were Bible-carrying, verse-referencing, polite, respectable women.
I watched their faces as they were handed blindfolds: Not thrilled.
But then something happened. With the blindfolds secure and the sight of all of the rest of us completely removed from their vision, the music started, and lo and behold …
These girls could dance.
“Because I’m happy! Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof…”
Pretty soon our amusement turned to chuckles turned to laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Tears spilling over. I had watched these ladies all weekend long; this was not their norm.
Ever-careful, ever-measured movements gone. They were free.
Something in that room transformed. It was beautiful. They were beautiful. Joyful, unhindered exuberant dancing. I watched them and couldn’t help but pray, Lord let me live like that.
No, not making a fool of myself. *smile*
I mean, it is a ridiculous comedic version of Peter walking on water. Right?
“‘Lord! If it is you, command me to come to You on the water.’ And Jesus said, ‘Come!'” (Matt. 14:28)
As soon as Peter heard that beautiful music, the voice of Jesus calling, Come, Peter became blessedly blind to the crashing, wild, deadly waves assaulting his senses. [bctt tweet=”When Peter heard Jesus calling, he became blessedly blind to the waves. “]
The miracle of pure faith: Walking on water, doing what Jesus did, defying physical laws, living by the greater, spiritual ones instead.
But as soon as Peter took that blessed blindfold off, when he looked back down at the waves which rose, incessant, threatening … as soon as he looked back down at this and away from Jesus, he sank.
Jesus is perfect theology. Jesus is truth. Jesus is life.
The fight of faith for me is to blindfold myself to the crashing, wild, deadly waves that assault my senses each day. To refuse to fix my gaze on all that is unanswered and unclear in this messy sea of life and to fix my soul’s gaze on the face of Jesus, bringing Him my honest questions from a pure heart of faith.
Questions clarify truth and bring life, doubt discourages and brings death.
Jesus, let me hear the music of Your voice, through Your Word. Let me walk based on Your beautiful beckoning, Come!, blindfolded to the onslaught of anti-faith that threatens my senses each day.
Though I may look a little foolish to the world, I know I’ll find an inner victory — faith.
{Happy Monday. Let’s dance! Thanks for reading.}