When Disappointment Happens

Mary Kay Ash (the woman) said that if you can control your emotions, you can control your paycheck.  I'd say, with regards to entrepreneurs and business, that's largely true.  I've received a LOT of training on emotional management over the years, and it has really served me.  What has surprised me is that it serves me, not only in my business, but also in my personal life.  How often do we find our whole day derailed because something upset us emotionally?  If your answer is, "not often," then either you are not a woman, or you already know what I'm about to share and you can stop reading.

I was recently at a business retreat in which the speaker asked the following question:  What do you do to keep yourself on track emotionally?

I've learned to have a number of habits in place in order to be proactive about my emotional and spiritual state of mind.  It's important to spend time in Scripture, to surrounding myself with uplifting and encouraging people, to have a plan and work the plan rather than leaving my day to chance.  It's been said that if you fail to plan, you plan to fail.  I've learned to spend time adding to a gratitude journal every day and to memorize scripture so that, in difficult moments, the Spirit can bring to mind the Truth I've committed to memory and encourage me.

But I've also learned that it's important to have a fall-back plan as well.  The best planning still can't prevent life - or other negative people, or tragedy, or disappointment, or messy kids, or accidents, or whatever else derails me in a day - from happening.  So I have a little thing I do when disappointment hits, in order to keep it from ruining the rest of my day.  Or week. Or month.  Whatever.

It goes like this:

First I stop and I have a fall-apart-moment.  I give time to the feeling.  I allow myself to get upset and to be mad or sad about whatever it is.  Sometimes I cry in the shower.  Sometimes I turn on loud music and sing.  Sometimes I go find chocolate in my kitchen.  Or coffee. But whatever it is... I just give myself time to fall apart...  for a moment.  Or maybe 20 minutes.  Not an hour.  Not an afternoon.  Not a week.  A moment.  
Next, I pray.  'Cuz here's what I know. Yahweh DOES have a plan for the day.  Even a plan to use whatever went wrong.  He is not surprised by whatever happened and in no way does it remove any part of His omniscience.  I may have no idea what He's doing with the day, but I know that he IS doing something.  Sometimes I pray for perspective.  (Be careful with that.  Last time I did that, Yahweh put a homeless man riding a bike, with all of his packs and bags and earthly possessions tied to said bike, with every piece of clothing he owned on his body, pedaling his way across the street in front of me, in ... wait for it ... 8 degree weather, while I sat in my cozy car mad about being inconvenienced that afternoon.  Yeah. Thanks for that, God.) Sometimes I say thanks out of discipline and I will myself to put the situation in His hands.  But bottom line: I talk to Him about it.

After that, I pick up the phone. In Mary Kay, we have a little phrase we use often.  Call up.  It means, we call our mentor, not our peers.  If I'm frustrated about business, I do not call my girlfriend who is at the same level of business that I am.  I call my business coach and ask her expert advice.  If I'm frustrated about marriage, I do not call my whiny girlfriend who is miserable in her marriage. I call my marriage counselor, or my elder friend who's been married 35 years. Or I call my friend whose marriage is great. If I'm frustrated about money, I'm not going to call my broke neighbor. I'm going to call my financial advisor.  Make sense?  Call up.  Get some good advice.  Go into solution mode, not whiny mode.

And last:  I do something productive or proactive. I take a look at my plan for the day and pick one or two things I can do in the next 20 minutes which will move me forward. Sometimes it takes time for the person I've called to call me back, so instead of wallowing or just waiting, instead, I choose to work. Often, this little step pulls me halfway out of the hole I'm in before my mentor can even call me back.

So there you go.  Have a fall apart moment. Pray. Call up. And then do something proactive with the next 20 minutes.  The enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy the life-giving kingdom-building work we are putting our hands to, so next time he tries to derail you, I encourage you to try this.  I'm praying that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:16-19
 

The Undoing of Forgiveness

There's something that happens sometimes in the process of healing.  I've seen it happen in the hearts and lives of my girlfriends and I've seen it happen in my own heart and in my husband's heart, in my mom's heart, my dad's heart, and in the hearts of many others.

When things have been wrong for a very long time, a woman steels herself.  (Perhaps a man too, but I only know how it works for a woman.) She buckles down and seeks God's strength and sacrifices and gives even though she knows she shouldn't have to. She does it for the sake of her relationships. For the sake of her marriage. For the sake of her family. For the sake of whoever might be involved.  She gets a quiet determination about her and a willingness to endure what she wouldn't otherwise, in order to just get through and to pursue restoration, health and healing in the long run.  She finds what she's made of and she realizes that indeed, with the strength and empowerment of the Holy Spirit, she can set aside herself, submit to Yahweh's plan and lay her life down for others. There is an incredible sense of gratification in enduring something like that, looking back, and realizing that she was obedient to His call for the long hard season.

Somewhere in the long season, she forgives.  Her heart is clean. She lets go and bitterness is eradicated. Her heart is whole, she realizes that she doesn't have to choose to forgive each and every moment of every day, and she is ready for the reward:  restoration and healing.

And then there's the day that restoration and healing starts to be realized, and I've discovered that sometimes there's an un-doing that the enemy manages to sneak in and unravel in our hearts. After steeling herself for so long against the storm, when suddenly the quiet comes and she can start to let down, sometimes the forgiveness unravels a bit, as her emotions take over and she begins to feel again.  When wrongs are righted, and something in her is touched deeply that hasn't been touched in a long time, the emotions of anger and bitterness that she's disciplined her spirit to reject for so long, start to creep back in.  Suddenly, when she experiences relief and being cared for well, once again, and things are made right, she is blind-sided by a tsunami of tired. A flood of emotional exhaustion. A wall of this-is-what-it's-supposed-to-feel-like-and-now-I-remember-how-much-it-hurt-not-to-have-this.

In those moments, tears flood, anger returns and the forgiveness - the willingness to let go of the necessity for the guilty party to understand what she was made to feel like - has to be chosen all over again.  It's an ugly feeling. It feels like a dark spot rotting in the far corner of her heart, begging to be forgotten and ignored. But if it is, it only grows. It feels like I-don't-like-myself and I-thought-I-was-past-this. It feels like why-am-I-suddenly-so-angry-when-I-should-be-rejoicing. It feels like why-do-I-keep-expecting-the-enemy-to-play-fair. It feels like a low blow. It feels like death.

And in that moment, there are two choices.  She can ignore it.  But beware. She may be able to shove it off for a time. She may be able to turn her back, face the lighted living room of her heart, and only pay attention to the warm delicious smells of what's growing and cooking in the kitchen of her heart.  But what's rotting behind her will only worsen and the stench will grow until finally, it's permeated the whole heart and can be ignored no longer.

Or... she can turn around, grab the bleach and mop, and clean it out. It means interrupting everything to kneel before the cross and confess it all over again. It means a little bit of heart-surgery. But if she faces it right away - really faces it - and give the enemy no room, time or space to let the rot spread, the Spirit can clean that corner literally instantaneously.  It feels like I-won't-let-everything-I've-worked-for-go-undone. It feels like get-out-Satan-and take-your-stink-with-you. It feels like this-is-not-my-heart-that-feels-ugly-but-rather-the-work-of-the-father-of-lies. It feels like this-has-already-been-redeemed-and-I'm-already-healed. It feels like victory. It feels like life. 

The un-doing of forgiveness... It can happen.  It can sneak up on you.  But it doesn't have to win. Christ died so it doesn't have to. If you are there, as I have been so many times, I encourage you to give it back to Him one more time.  Lay it at His feet and walk away once again.  You are a child of the King.  You are loved. In Him, you are loving. White as snow, by His blood, you are lovely. **



**Quoted and inspired by 31 Days to Lovely, by Sarah Valente

Rest For Your Soul

Lately, Danny has been getting over the crud. Actually I keep thinking he's over it and then it just drags on and on.  And on.  And on and on.  Which is why we call it the crud.

And he's been behaving absolutely horrifically because, of course, he's miserable.  And really you can only spoil a sick child for so long before he becomes spoiled rotten and then you have to undo what you've done and had no intention of doing in the first place, but just kept at it and after 3 weeks of sick and spoiled you realize you've completely ruined every bit of behavior training you've done since he was born.

Ok maybe I'm being a little dramatic.  But honestly, that's where we're at.  We're fixing and healing.  

I'll be SO GLAD when we're past this.

Anyway, along with the spoiling and ruining has come about the ruining of bedtime routines - among which is going to sleep by himself.  He has (from about 6 weeks old) put himself to sleep and so we've never been the sit-by-the-bed-until-he's-snoring kind of parents.  Well, until now.  Until sick. Just a few minutes ago, as I was sitting by him with my head on his not-so-comfy toddler rail with my eyes closed, encouraging him to sleep - practically by example - I got to thinking.

Only after 10 minutes of negotiating, arguing, ordering, accommodating pillows and blankets, laying down, and getting back up for one more thing, and laying back down again, did he finally settled in with his head on this afternoon's pillow of choice and his brand new "grabber jammies" (pajamas with an excavator on them). He proceeded to squinch his eyes shut, pull his shoulders up to his ears and tuck his fists tightly into his chest.  This is what laying down to relax and go to sleep looks like for a 3 year old little boy.  For me it looks like a workout, but whatever.  He started with his muscles taut and his eyes scrunched and opened his eyes every 2.342 seconds to make sure my eyes were still closed.

30 seconds passed.  I breathed deeply.  He breathed deeply.  His shoulders dropped.

Another 60 seconds passed.  My eyes and face relaxed (well as much as possible, leaned up against that not-so-comfy toddler rail).  His face relaxed.

Another 30 seconds and his arms and fists had loosened.

And 3 minutes later, his breathing slowed, his lips relaxed into that kissable stuck-out pucker, and he was out like a light.

This mommy enjoyed all five minutes of watching his body slowly relax and his mind cautiously give in to the blissful rest that I'd been telling him he needed for the last hour.  And boy does he need it.  Deep down I think he really wants it and enjoys it and he admittedly feels better afterwards when I ask him.  But boy does he FIGHT IT.

I think our Heavenly Papa must giggle at us the same way.  He calls us to obey Him. He tells us in His word why it's so much better His way.  He shows us examples of how it works out better when we obey and he begs, draws us in, woos us toward Himself, commands and promises reward for obedience to him.  And oh we fight it.  We kick and scream and justify and negotiate and try everything to get out of it, but when we FINALLY give in, we find REST for our souls.

We learn that the burden is easy.  The yoke is light.  And we feel so much better afterwards, don't we?? “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” - Matthew 11:28-30 MSG (boldface mine)

So this afternoon, give into it.  Loosen your fists.  Drop your shoulders.  Relax your closed eyes.  Give in to Him.  And find rest.  

Christmas in July

Anticipation of Christmas at our house started early this year. As in July.

It was a hot, sweaty, summer day, and Danny and I were up in his room. Suddenly, he came to me and said, “Mama, I wanna krimatree.”

“What do you want?” Being that it was the middle of July, Christmas trees were the furthest thing from my mind.

“A krimatree!”

“A WHAAA???” I said, dumbfounded, trying to figure out my three-year old’s speech.

“I wanna KRIMATREE!!!!”

“Buddy, why don’t you show me what you’re talking about. Can you show me?”

Clearly knowing what he wanted, he took the lead and made a bee-line to his bedroom window. I opened the curtains, and raised the blinds and he pointed across the street at the perfectly formed evergreen in our neighbor’s front yard across the street.

“A Chrima-Tree!!” he said, more clearly.

“OH!! A Christmas Tree!” I said, finally understanding.

“YEEEAAAAAAHHH!!!” he shouted, as if my realization called for a celebration worthy of Christmas day itself.

“Oh, buddy, that’s not ours. That belongs to our friends across the street.”

“I want THAT Chrima Tree in the downstairs,” Danny said, as though he’d had it all planned out in his little mind months before.

“Well, we can’t get THAT one, honey.”

“But I want THAT one!” He was becoming concerned.

“Well…” my wheels were turning. I believe in saying yes, whenever reasonable. The No's come easier that way.  The Christmas box was easy to get to. The mini tree I had from college which became Danny’s as soon as he reached the age of “mine” was right on top, and there was ample time to pull it out. So why not? What child doesn't want to celebrate Christmas for six months?

And there you have the reason why there has been a fully decorated and lighted Christmas tree in Danny’s room since July. He also insisted on bringing said Christmas tree to my physical therapy appointment that afternoon. The staff thought it was a scream.

And secretly I've been thoroughly enjoying every bit of that small glow of Christmas that’s been lighting up his room at night ever since.

I recently learned of a pair of sisters who just couldn't go the whole 12 months without the blessed holiday, so every July, they get together and celebrate Christmas for the weekend. One comes in from out of town and together, they relish in peppermint hot chocolate, Christmas music, movies about boys who’ll “shoot their eye out” and clay reindeer, candy-cane covered pajamas and yes, even presents. They do Christmas in July and they do it well.

I think I may start a new tradition at our house.

Fall is my favorite season. I love the changing colors, the cooler weather, the hot drinks and the sweaters that hide the resulting handlebars that inevitably find their way to my side. But mostly, I love the anticipation of Christmas. I AM that shameless woman who can hardly wait till Thanksgiving to break out the Manheim Steamroller CDs. But July?? I mean, that’s a little early, even for me.

But I got to thinking the other night, as we were driving across the state to a tiny Kansas town for the weekend to spend with friends. What if I anticipated Jesus the way Danny anticipates Christmas Day. I have not the tiniest shred of an idea about when Jesus will return. As far as I’m concerned, it may as well be a lifetime from now. Six months, from July to December, is a lifetime in the mind of a preschooler. But that doesn't seem to stop him from waking each morning, hoping that today will bring snow.

This weekend, the temperature dropped into the 20’s at our house. It was downright frigid last week, and when I attempted to talk Danny into his jacket due to the snow-like weather, he looked at me and about burst, yelling, “It’s CHRIMAS TIME!!!!”

Oh and there goes my bleeding heart, walking away in size 6 Lightning McQueen tennis shoes, teaching my heart to anticipate my Savior with a child-like abandon.

God, you sure do know what you’re doing. I couldn’t have thought it up better myself.

Salt Shaker

My husband gave me great advice today. He told me to keep my salt shaker with me at all times. Take everything with a grain of salt and be prepared to be salt and light to everyone we interact with. Not everyone operates with Christ's love in their heart and an abundant mindset, and we are ALL human - those you lead and those who lead you. That's pretty good advice, I think.

A New Day

Five a.m. on a Saturday morning and I can't sleep, so tippy-toe I go, down the stairs, in stealth-mode so as not to disturb the two men in my life.  I feel like I'm coming out of a fog, or coming up for air after a long time under water.  December has been a rough month for us, and I've not had words to write.  I've battled to find joy and while I truly have loved (I always do) this season of lights and Christmas music and gifts and friends and fun, it's been a tougher December than most.

We have all been sick (two of us twice).  And not just runny-nose sick.  Whole-body-achy-needing-antibiotics-really-should've-just-stayed-in-bed-can't-function-sick.  This doesn't bode well for a household of the self-employed..  We don't have sick days or paid vacation.  If ya' don't work, ya' don't get paid.  It's even less fun when you can't call Grandma to come over and hang out with Danny because I can hardly drag myself downstairs to fix breakfast.  And work has been slow on top of that.

I don't know why this is all hard to admit.  As though we've somehow done something wrong.  But it is.

And the other half of my struggle to find joy is our collective home-sickness.  I told my family on several accounts that I have desperately wanted to be in three places simultaneously this Christmas.  Here we are home.  Colorado and cold and not nearly enough snow and our church are where our hearts live.  Yet in San Diego my sister is preparing to get married and there are dresses to buy and parties to plan and moments that sisters are meant to share and I wish I were closer to share them.  Families are gathering and a baby niece was born and another is on the way, and I've missed the gatherings and eating together.  In Costa Rica, another niece is walking and talking and zillions of cousins have married and are having children and my heart longs to laugh and love fully in another language.  Three places I long to be.  All at once.

So I've been in a fog.  Wanting to enjoy the season.  Wanting to give of my time and my resources and wanting to stretch out to others and write and share memories and pictures and create good traditions for our son who is two and a half and talking like there's no tomorrow.  Surely I've done some of that.  But certainly I've spent much more time than I wanted trying to get well - as though I could do that and God were not already working on it - and trying to catch up on work time lost and wishing I were spending my time differently than I am.

But today is a new day.  As the Lord spoke to me as I crept down the stairs - this is entering into a new season.  There is indeed more to do than ever, and with the close of Christmas and the beginning of a new year, God has miraculously provided, our work schedules are once again full and we are healthy and well.  (It occurs to me that this is only the second time in a year and a half that Alejandro has experienced a lull in work and I am extremely thankful for that.)  We have never lacked for anything we need and God grows faith in our hearts as He teaches us to trust in His provision.

There have been many good memories, and loads of great pictures to share.  I am looking forward to the creative process of sharing those with you.  I love new beginnings.  I love breaks and vacations and a rest from work, but I love just as much the getting-back-to-routine and schedule and the daily Kingdom work set before me.  Alejandro has joined me on the couch and I hear my other little man stirring upstairs.  So I think it's time to enjoy early morning breakfast and snuggles and playing Angry Birds and Blast Monkey on our phones together.  This is, after all, the important stuff.

Happy New Year everybody.  Here's to fresh starts.

Love,

How the Lord Spoke This Weekend

Frustration flows, when I want it to ebb.  This God-given frustration at dreams unrealized... at the picking feeling that I still reside in the mediocre and not in the promised land of The Calling.  Frustration because I know not how to change it.

And then this:  (Phil 4:8) Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.

The enemy jabs with reminders of what I have not, when He has placed so much in front of me for me to have.  The father of lies would desire me to see discontent, frustration, ... and then the notes of my friend on the piano ring peace in my heart and remind me that worthy is the Lamb who was slain, so that I might have it all.  I have been given friends.

I have been given a day to rest.  Snow.  Christmas trees.  Worship belted out and uttered in whispers and all is a beautiful chorus in Your ears.

And even then, the song ends and the knot in my throat returns.

Psalm 119:114  You're my place of quiet retreat.  I wait for your Word to renew me.

"Well, child, some things are really meant to be laid down.  Every person needs hope planted at the bottom of their hole."  - Anne Voskamp

There it is:  the reason for the activity.  The Calling.  The why behind selling lipstick.

Colossians 3: 15 - 16  Let the peace of Christ keep you in tune with each other, in step with each other.  None of this going off and doing your own thing.  And cultivate thankfulness.  Let the Word of Christ - The Message - have the run of the house.  Give it plenty of room inyour lives.  INsruct and direct one another using good common sense.  And sing, sing your hearts out to God!

In Him, there is renewal for transformation.  We come to the place of saying, "I CAN'T DO IT, GOD!" And He says, "Well, I've been waiting for that, Renee."  What we think is the problem is never really the problem.  It's always looking at something to fill the need that only the Savior can fill. We find adult pacifiers that poorly try to replace Him in our lives.

The thing is that it doesn't happen over night.  The Power of the Cross must be applied consistently (not just once) in order for transformation to occur.  We try repentance in our human strength and fail.  We try to think right.  Reason right.  Do right.  But it doesn't transfer to the heart.

Then we recognize our incapability and beg God to deposit it into our souls, to write it on our hearts, to inscribe healing into us, and He graciously does exactly that.  God reveals it to me and it becomes me.  This Godly repentance.  And in that He kills the lie that I've been believing.

Deliver me, sweet Jesus, from the lie that I must live today in mediocrity.  By the power of your Holy Spirit, eradicate from me the fear that comes along with realizing my purpose and following my Calling.  Pour your strength into me to accomplish what I cannot on my own.  Give me your joy in all things.  Remind me of what I have so that gratitude might be my default.  And by the power of your Son, bring freedom, that I might live it and pass it on.

The "S" Word

My sister is getting married in February so she's doing all kinds of reflection and spiritual preparation these days.  I can't even begin to articulate how much her daily texts with scripture and questions regarding spiritual matters encourage me and bless me.  I am SOOOOOO proud of her.  (I love you, Lisa!)

Anyhow, she recently asked me a question about the "S" word.  No, not the four-letter word that I taught her to say when she was two years old.  The ten-letter word that has become totally taboo.  I'm talking about submission.  Biblical submission within marriage, to be specific.  (I'm talking to the wives today.) This is a SUPER hard topic to tackle, but let me give it a shot.

I think there are two main reasons we get so hung up and stuck on this passage and have so much trouble with it.  First is the fact that this passage is talking about an ideal situation, and we live in a fallen world.  The passage presents a scenario of how it's supposed to be, but we read it through the filter of "I'm supposed to do this even though my husband is failing me miserably."  We tend to read it imagining the times when our husband has failed us miserably, rather than reading it and imagining the moments of blissful romance when we would fall and worship the feet of our lover.

The second problem is semantics.  We read the words submit and respect (which reminds us of archaic female oppression) and love (which our culture equates with sex).  Therefore, we read this passage and we hear this: "Wives, allow yourselves to be walked on and oppressed by your selfish husbands, and husbands, have all the sex you want with your wives, occasionally throwing in a little romance if it suits you, and while you're at it, make all the decisions without taking in her opinion to account and go ahead and use Christianity as your scape-goat."

This interpretation could not be further from what was originally intended.  May I suggest something?  Let's take a look at the theoretical scenario that this passage presents as an ideal and let's take the semantics out of it.  What if we use the word serve?  Here's why I chose the word serve.  Serve makes me think of the words humility, sacrifice, help, and for the sake of the other.  These are all things that Christ modeled in his life on this earth (which is precisely the comparison that Paul is making in this passage).  Secondly, don't we all love to be served?  When someone serves us food, he does it for no gain of his own, but for the benefit of those he serves.  When I serve my son, I do what's best for him with gentle affection, firm consistency and a protective wisdom.  Service usually involves self-sacrifice but should never involve self-deprecation.

Alright, with those things in mind, let's read Ephesians 5:22 - 33 again.  (Emphases, parentheses and strike-throughs are mine.)

Wives, submit yourselves to serving your own husbands as you do to the Lord. (We serve the Lord because we love him and it brings us joy and Him glory, yes?) For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. (Here, Paul establishes the comparison between marriage and the Christ-Church relationship.) Now as the church (that's us believers) submits to serving Christ, so also wives should submit to serving their husbands in everything. (That sounds a little more like what I signed up to do on my wedding day... bless, love, give, support, encourage, help, and serve my husband in all he does. And of course, we signed up to do this, knowing that the man we agreed to marry is someone of integrity and character who we believed would choose to make Christ-honoring decisions.  We knew he wouldn't be perfect at this, but we figured he'd be good enough at it that we could commit to marrying him and it'd be a good deal.  Plus, we figured that since he has Christ in him, God would help keep him on the right path too.  In fact, we were depending on that.**)

(Now his part.) Husbands, love serve your wives, just as Christ loved served the church and gave himself up for her... In this same way, husbands ought to love serve their wives as their own bodies. He who loves serves his wife loves serves himself. (Hmm... so when he treats me right, it benefits him.  Makes sense.  It makes me want to love him back, bless him back, serve him back, yes?) After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. “For this reason (what reason? to serve his wive as his own body!) a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” This is a profound mystery— (He means the mystery of the unity of Christ and the church) but I am talking about Christ and the church (see?). However, each one of you also must love serve his wife as he loves serves himself, and the wife must respect serve her husband.

So in theory, we have two people, united in Jesus' Love, who have endeavored to do all they can to serve the other.  Doesn't that sound like a wonderful situation!?  Sign me up!

In actuality, though, there are times when I really just want to throw a plate at his head.

Ahem.

Yeah, I know what you are thinking.  "Uh... what then, oh you so perfect and holy??"  That's when the rubber meets the road.  That's when it gets hard.  That's when we think back to our wedding day and realize we had no idea what we were getting into - and sometimes that's good, or we might not have signed up in the first place.  That's when we have to take a deep breath and trust in God's plan for our lives despite the fact that we cannot understand what in tar-nation has gotten into the thick skull of the man across the room.  That's when we have to choose to be the bigger man woman and serve him anyway.**

And that, my friends, is where my expertise ends (ha! If indeed it ever had begun).  That is the hardest thing of all.  That's when I realize that marriage truly was to make me holy, not happy.  In those moments of anger, it takes all my strength to set my pride aside and actually follow through with the promise to treat him as I would want to be treated. I fail often.  And then it takes all my strength to admit my wrong and ask forgiveness.

I was laughing to myself last night - which happened to be a wonderfully sweet night for my husband and I - as I thought about my sister's questions and my own wedding vows.  I decided that this might be the vows I say if we ever decide to renew them:

I, Renee, take you, Alejandro, to be my lawfully wedded husband.  I promise to serve you, help you and support you even when I don't like what you are doing.  I promise you will be mine and I will be yours, from this day forward, for better (when we are getting along great and all is peachy-keen), or for worse (when tragedy strikes, when I think you're being insensitive and selfish), for richer (when we have savings, a brand new house, two great cars and the ability to eat out every night), for poorer (when we have to decide between your new drill and my new touch phone), in sickness and in health (and energy and exhaustion and good moods and PMS and twenty-year-old-bodies-with-six-packs and saggy-post-breastfeeding-pudgy-overweight-bodies and smiles and tears and conquer-the-world-moments and totally-overwhelmed-dirty-hair-and-pimples-and-screaming-children-moments), until we're old and wrinkly and have white hair and dentures and we know each other so well we start to look like each other and death do us part.

Not exactly romantic.  But it made me laugh!

The mystery of marriage is this...  when we do endeavor to submit to serve our husbands, even if they don't come around right away, they usually do later.  And even if they don't, we find that in the process, Christ changes our hearts and teaches us more about how He loves us in our ugliness.  We get the whole plank-versus-speck thing and realize the magnitude of what Christ did on the cross for us.  And if for no other reason, understanding Christ's love better makes serving and submission to our imperfect husbands totally worth it.



**This of course, does NOT apply to situations in which the husband doesn't know Christ and/or the husband acts in a way that DOESN'T honor Christ.  Abuse and adultery are manifestations of this, and the Bible allows for Godly wives to be released from their vows in these situations.  See Matthew 5:32 and Matthew 19.

Obsession

Between the windstorm going on outside and the heart-storm going on inside, sleep is proving elusive tonight.

He has been speaking to my heart about His children.  I struggle much and often with materialism, yet recently, God's words of Grace have reminded me of so many out there who have so little and need so much spiritually.  While I am filled to overflowing, both materially and spiritually, children want and helpless mothers ache.  I get caught up in the entitled American dream game and find myself discontent with more than some will ever have.  Meanwhile, others sleep on dirt floors attempting to ignore hunger pains.

Who am I that I should have so much?

"The more He uses me in the lives of others... the more I share His wisdom... 

the more I understand how very little I understand about His great and mysterious ways.  

Me wretched.  Him magnificient.  Me He works through."

Wretched.  It's not a self-piteous statement.  It's a comparative statement.

After the company Alejandro worked for went under last year, and we struggled to pay bills, I wondered why God didn't bless us with more.  My plea for answers was met with silence.  But recently, an answer came.

Now you know how to live on less.  

Which means you can give more.

I've started to dream differently.  I've started to think about how much we could give away if we had more to give.  I've started to imagine using increased resources, not for new luxuries, but to spread His love to the most hurting.  It is starting to feel less like contemplating sacrifice and more like a deep longing in my heart.  

Do you love me?  

Feed my sheep. 

How I long to.  How I long to take you all with me.  To meet needs.  To hold hands.  To give bread.  To give Life.  To do so as His Church together.  To See more and deeper.  Into hearts and into Him. To shed Light.

Not so that they or you would look at me, but so that they and you would look at Him.  Deeper.  Longer.  Truer.  Sometimes for the first time.  

Do you know this all-consuming, gripping, obsessive, enveloping Love that keeps you awake at night?  

Come to me, you who are weary and heavy-burdened and you will find rest for your souls.

Be still.  KNOW - on a heart level - that I am God.

I have come so that the captives may be set free.  

So that the poor may be rich and blind may See.

Invite in the Greatest Lover of all time.  Catch the obsession. 

Privileged

This morning, for whatever reason, I'm feeling tired and frazzled, pulled in a million directions.  Chaotic.  Before I even got out of bed, I'd already snapped at my husband and was impatient with my son (who happened to be climbing all over me, dragging me out of a deep sleep).  I was not a happy camper.

In that grace-filled and blessed moment, the Spirit spoke to me and reminded me that I am privileged.

I recently joined a Maximize Your Mornings accountability group.  I have a whole group of 25 new friends who all wake up together and check in with each other, encouraging one another in the Lord.  I joined this group, because I find it difficult to get up early, but on the few occasions that I do, I have much more peaceful, productive days.

Sometimes as stay-at-home-moms, we fall into believing the lie that our life is so hard and children take so much energy and we do so much and on and on and on.  Well, we DO do so much, and it DOES take so much energy.

BUT.

But the thing is that we are privileged to be at home with our children, doing what we do.  There are millions of moms in the world who wake up at the crack of dawn each day, shower and put on a suit, take their children to daycare and kiss them goodbye for eight hours, because they have no choice.  There are millions of moms in the world who wake up before the sun, clean, cook, strap their babies on their backs and head to the field to work.  There are millions of moms in the world who wake up each morning with an ache in their chest because the toddler they thought would be crawling all over them, dragging them out of a deep sleep, has long since gone to heaven ahead of them.

We are blessed.  We are privileged.  We are gifted to wake up each morning to climbing toddler, whines for breakfast, tantrums because there was milk when they wanted juice, and tears and kisses on their owies.

It occurred to me in that moment that it's a little twisted that I have to join an accountability group for help to get up early, when really I should give shouts of joy and thanks for the privilege of getting up early every morning for my little one.  Nevertheless, we all have our own battles, and for this, God gives us one another.

So as I sat there in bed, before my feet hit the floor, and I decided to give thanks.  Ask forgiveness.  Start over.  Choose joy. 

Getting Back Up Again

Mary Anne Radmacher said, "Courage doesn't always roar.  Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, 'I'll try again tomorrow.'"

Ann Voskamp said, "When you're in covenant with Christ, it's His responsibility to cover your cracks, to be all your competency and completeness."  Thank Goodness.

Today's a get-back-up-again type of day.  It's a do-the-next-thing sort of day.  It's a I'll-try-again day.

It's a day in which I have to remind myself that even if I don't like myself, God does.  And that it's okay to not like myself every single day.  But I do have to love myself.

Nothing major or earth-shattering is wrong at our house.  It's just one of those days.  And I felt like sometimes you all need to know that I have them too.  Days when everything I've done wrong or not done well enough or not done at all is staring me in the face.  Days when the enemy whispers and I listen.  Days when extending grace is challenging because I am having a hard time receiving the Grace extended to me.

It's just a day.

Tomorrow will be a new day.

In fact, this afternoon could be a whole new day in itself, if I decide to allow God to work that in my heart.  No need to wait 'till sunrise.  Ya'll can start a diet in the middle of a bag of potato chips (thank you Mary Kay Ash) and (praise Him) so can I.  It's 2 p.m. and today's been going on for a while, but I think I'm gonna go shower again (or at least change my clothes), redo my hair, and start over with praise music and a fresh cup of peach tea.  With lots of sugar.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—

From whence comes my help?

My help comes from the LORD,

Who made heaven and earth.

Psalm 121

4th of July - Metberry Gulch

A camping weekend isn't complete for my husband if off-roading in our Jeep isn't involved at some point.  So after packing up the campsite and saying goodbye to Annie, Matt and Lydia, instead of heading back home, we headed deeper into the mountains Jeep Country to Metberry Gulch - a well known off-road trail.  

It was, uh, steep.  

It was also a great place to get some great photos.

So long as we didn't slide down the hill.

We didn't, of course.  

We did not, however, go down this hill.  

See down there towards the bottom?  That Rock Slab?  

We didn't do that either.  But we watched quite a few others do it!

Look closely.  See the two Jeep love birds perched on the trail in the middle?  

Aw.

On our way back out.

Back up the steep incline.

Back over the boulders.

Look honey!  Two wheels.

And back up and out.

I'll admit there were a few tense moments, but man it was fun!  

Here's a series of photos of Alejandro maneuvering a 

deep dip and another vehicle driving up the rock slab:

To My Dad

I wanted to write a post for Father's Day... and telling the story of one of my favorite memories from our recent weekend in San Diego seemed fitting.  I hesitate to share this story, because it touches on the deep hurt I experienced when my parents (married for 30+ years) divorced shortly after Alejandro and I got married.  But the magnitude of the blessing of this story wouldn't be fully understood if I don't share it all, so here goes...  

When my parents split up, my world seemed to crumble, even though I was already an adult.  Divorce tears apart kids' lives.  It doesn't matter how old they are.  One of the things I cried and cried over was the loss of a hope of mine:  I always wanted my kids to have Godly grandparents who exemplified a Christ-centered marriage into their old age.  I want my kids to grow up spending time seeing the different generations of their family doing life well.  When my parents divorced, I thought that dream was long lost.  I mourned it like the death of a friend and learned to let it go and even forget about it.  

My Dad has been a guitar-player in a worship band at his church (and before that, in his previous church) for as long as I can remember.  He started playing before I was born and hasn't quit since.  One of my most cherished memories was when I was a young child.  Dad would serenade us to sleep by singing praise songs on his guitar.  The memory is still etched in my mind.  I would lay on my side, holding my pillow, watching my Dad.  He sat where the light of the hallway allowed him to see the chords (not that he hardly looked) and finger-picked as he gently sung, "Father in Heaven, hear my prayer...  keep me in thy loving care..."  And I would breathe deep and watch my Dad praise Jesus in his favorite way.  

A week and a half ago Friday night around 7p.m., after arriving in San Diego that morning and after a full day of water play, barbecue, toy cars and running around the living room, Danny was plenty tired out and ready for bed.  We all helped to put the toys away.  We all helped to get the office set up so Danny could sleep uninterrupted.  I got Danny's pajamas on.  Alejandro brushed Danny's teeth.  And right when we were about to encourage Danny to give his grandparents kisses goodnight, Dad walked into the living room with his guitar. 

I smiled.  

Grandma Jeanne, my Dad's new wife, asked Danny if he wanted to sit with her and he immediately climbed up onto her lap and settled in with a peaceful contentment like I have never seen him have with someone so quickly.  

Dad started strumming lullabies.  Dad, Jeanne and Alejandro sang worship songs to Jesus...

...while tears streamed silently down my cheeks.  

What a gift.  What an unexpected wonderful gift that had been returned to me.  

Dad, you chose well.  It took a while to pick up the pieces and put your life back together.  When you thought you'd never have to choose again, you chose well.  My son got to spend four days with Godly grandparents in a Christ-centered home and watch his Grandpa and Grandma Jeanne do life well.  

I hope that this legacy you are leaving is at least half the gift to you that it is to me.  

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

I love you.  

What on Earth is Spiritual Attack?

About two months ago I received a question about my reference to being "under attack."  I was referring to spiritual attack but my sweet friend didn't have the faintest idea what I meant and she was truly concerned that someone would be attacking me! When she asked and I answered, I realized that a lot of people - particularly those who identify with Christianity but are not "super spiritual" - don't understand the Christian language that we use (and probably think it's pretentious and haughty).  I also realized that even the strongest of faith and those familiar with the term still don't always understand what spiritual warfare is, why it exists or how to recognize it.

I have been thinking about this email over the last two months from time to time and I wanted to try to explain exactly what spiritual attack is, but I guess none of it makes sense without going back to some basics from the beginning of time.

In Revelation 12: 7-9, human history is being explained and a battle recounted that occurred before the creation of man.

"Then war broke out in heaven. Michael [a leading angel in Heaven] and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him."

Layman's terms? God is boss. Satan was an angel and wanted to be boss. He attempted mutiny and as a result was tossed out of Heaven. Fast forward to the Garden of Eden. God's done being creative and He, Adam and Eve are enjoying living together in perfect harmony. Along comes Satan (who still wants to be boss) and he tries to get Adam and Eve to follow him instead of God. They do and eat the apple and there you have the first sin. Because God is perfect, He can't be around any sin and so perfect harmony between God and man was severed forever. Adam and Eve are cast out of Eden and their kids (who because of a limited gene pool) would've been born with sin too, and God is heartbroken that His finest creation and greatest love is lost to Him.

What does he do about it? He descends to earth as a man (Jesus) to die on the cross so that whoever WANTS to return to God and have perfect harmony with Him again can. He paid for Adam and Eve's (and everyone else's) mess-up so separation wouldn't have to continue. So now we have a choice. We can be in relationship with God or we can not.

God, who adores us like a mommy adores her babies, wants us to follow and obey Him and have the best earthly life possible and the best Heavenly life forever. Satan (who's STILL trying for mutiny) wants us to follow him instead of God. God is fighting to win our hearts. Satan is fighting to steal them away.

That is spiritual warfare in its simplest form. Satan is purposeful in causing everyone to stray from God but he has different strategies for different people. For those who are already determined to live un-Godly lives, I imagine Satan leaves them alone or tries to help them be successful. For those who are waffling one way or another, Satan whispers lies of defeat, guilt, rationalization, justification, self-pity, entitlement and pride to keep them stuck "on the fence." To those who strive to live a life of Godly excellence and influence others to do the same, Satan launches an all-out attack.

What does this "attack" look like in real life?  Sickness. Discouragement.  Depression.  Natural disaster.  It can be anything.  But be careful!  Not every time one of those things happens is it actually spiritual attack.  How do you know?  Well, you don't always, and there's no need to know every time.  The important thing is to ask God to open your eyes to see Him.  Ask Him to protect you from the enemy's schemes and to give you clear thought, wisdom and understanding.  Read His word so He can answer those prayers.  Tell Satan (out loud) that he's not welcome in your life and in the name of Jesus Christ to get out.

The great thing?

With the power of Christ living in you, you'll defeat the enemy.  Every. Single. Time.

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? ...No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. Romans 8:31, 37

Spring Flowers

Spring and the budding of new flowers is always enchanting to me.  I have always liked change.  I like change just for the sake of change.  About every six months or so, I want to rearrange our bedroom just because it's been that way for too long.  So Spring and flowers blooming and a change in weather is wonderful for me.  I think I like extreme weather (snow, heat, torrential rain) for the same reason.  But I digress.  

We have the most amazing bulb flowers in our front yard.  Amazing because they keep coming back no matter how poorly I treat them and no matter how much I think they are bound to die before the next Spring arrives. They bloomed a week or so ago. The blossoming flowers remind me of me.  Of us.  Of humans who are trying to "arrive" and become all that we dream of becoming.  Over night.

At first, it hardly seems like any progress is being made.  

The outside changes little from one day to the next.  

That's because everything is happening on the inside.  

The inside really is what counts the most.

That's because what happens on the outside is really 

only evidence of growth and maturity from the inside.

It takes a long long time.  You start to see some color and you think it's coming soon, but then you find that the delay in that stage is even longer than the delay in the very beginning.

Until one day, finally, all of a sudden...

...there's a bloom!

And then the growth is exponential!  Two flowers!

We spend our whole lives waiting for the bloom.  

And when it comes, it truly is glorious.

But short-lived.  Soon cold hits again (especially if you live in Colorado where it can't decide what season it wants to be).  The bloom curls inward.  And the process starts over.  The flowers in our front yard bloom once a year for only a few days. 

Out of 365 days, they are glorious for only about 5 of them.  It just seems painful to me.  But it reminds me of a scene from C.S. Lewis' book The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  Eustace has just been transformed back from a dragon into a human again and Peter asks him, "So what was it like, when Aslan changed you?" 

Eustace replies, "No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't do it myself.  Then He came towards me.  It sort of hurt but it was a good pain, like when you pull a thorn from your foot."  Belief.  Faith.  Surrender.

I think humans and our lives on earth are like this.  This earth is for the process, not the glory.  It is for the inward growth.  

For the slowly budding faith.  

The blooms that happen here are just a glimpse of what is to come.  

Just a hint of the glory awaiting us.

So today, while I look forward to the glory that 

awaits me, I'll also enjoy the journey.

And I'll know that it is just the journey and not the end.