There's No Place Like It

We're home from Colorado! At last sweet, sweet Texan soil is underneath our feet. 

After packing up two and a half months of life and cramming it into our minivan (what?) we made the long, long drive back. A large bag of Cheerios and playing Cars on a continuous loop saw us home with our sanity intact. A thirteen-month-old, a car seat, and a eighteen hour road trip make for a rough ride. 

After arriving at our apartment we unloaded half of our belongings, hugged all of our friends who live on our street (oh, y'all, I have to write about the crazy beauty that comes with living within a stones throw of several of your dear friends), and after two and a half hours took off again to my parents house. 

Then, after one day of laundry and repacking, we visited a campus that we're considering for a potential church plant (more on this later) before hopping in the car again and going to the coast for a week for our church's leadership retreat.

After soaking in the Holy Spirit and a lot of humidity, we finally landed back home a week ago, today, from being gone all summer. We unpacked and cleaned and gave our little home some TLC after being gone for so long. We also gave into *almost* every Chick-fil-a and Chuy's craving.

It feels good to be home, around our home-like things: our grocery store, and our park, and our pediatrician.

Life is not without the unexpected and the stress (like having a plumber give you a $650 estimate for a leak in your bathtub), but lately Jesus has filled me with a more thankful spirit than I'm usually prone to. There's been a lot of goodness in my life that I spend far too little time focusing on: where I'm at, the man I'm married to, our little boy, and having a job that fills me with purpose, to name a few.

And I think, if I could be more constant with this thankful spirit, that would be a precious thing to have.

I wrote about my hopes for the summer back in May. Those hopes being that I might learn how to depend on Jesus entirely, so that He could make new the places in my heart that have been long untended, and I can't shake the feeling that thankfulness is important to Jesus being able to resurrect and make all things new in my life.

A friend once said that thankfulness may serve as a guard against fear, and I might add bitterness and insecurity to that list. I've lived a life dominated by those, and... no, thanks.

So, my prayer for this fall is to be a bringer of thanks, and with that, a bringer of all the things that often follow: hope, humility, and new life. 

Thanksgiving, Day Nine - Sixteen

Well, look who overestimated her ability to write during the holidays! No matter, I'm all about grace here, especially (and maybe when it's most important?) when it comes to myself.

Z

A little worried about this "solid food" business. 

When my husband and I first got married, we were considering not having kids at all. I covered this thought with a lot of noble reasons, but I confess, on my part, not wanting children had less to do with calling and more to do with fear. 

I feared losing myself. 

I feared so much of myself being taken, and taken, and taken that one day I would look up and not recognize the person in the mirror. 

This is the fear that tainted my view of motherhood. All I saw was that it takes. Steals. It steals sleep and hobbies and money and "me time" and careers. 

The truth is, you know, that motherhood does not steal. 

Stealing is the enemy's business. 

And wouldn't it be just like a thief, to convince one to grip tightly the stuff of little value, so that he can take what is most truly precious without a fight? 

And leave us with trinkets, with temporal things. 

Things that turn to dust. 

When we discovered we were pregnant with Z, all of a sudden there was the tiniest of souls inside of me. A drop of something eternal. 

You expect to love your children, but what I didn't expect was how intensely it comes. 

With my family, the love has always been there. 

With my husband, it came gradually. 

With Z, it knocked the wind out of me. 

The first time it was in the hospital, in the wee hours of the morning when the nurse had taken Z back to the nursery after I fed him. I lay there with my arms feeling this empty-ache, and though my head knew he would back in two very brief hours and that I should try and go back to sleep, my heart was awake. The tears came and I just couldn't get over the grace shown to me, that he was here.  

Holding his dad's hand in the hospital. 

And in one moment my world flipped upside down and rather than being worried about how much Z would take from me, I began to wonder if I would ever be able to give him enough. 

Since then, the Lord has used this little man to redeem my view of motherhood. To give up myself for the sake of another...

Well, that's the gospel. 

No career, or hobby, or any amount of sleep or "me time," can replace how my days are now overflowing with grace. 

Sometimes hard grace, but grace still. 

I am so thankful for that. 

Thanksgiving, Day Six - Eight

Peace

Extra grace for a day of traveling with a baby and a day of catching up with family.

Peace as I mixed the pie dough yesterday afternoon and the sunlight streamed in my in-laws' kitchen window. Peace as the dough came together and rolled out thin.

This family is a beautiful gathering, and I am blessed that this home has always been a place of peace for me.

And in my own family, my flesh-and-blood actual, there is peace as well. Not always, but now, peace. The stuff that flows steady in the deep even if there's storms on the surface.

Today, among many, many, many things, I thank God for the peace that He has given those connected to me by blood and marriage. I'm a confessed glutton for it, even as it pours out I cry for more.

Peace as the fire dances and grandbabies sleep and siblings, now grown, laugh at stories from the past.

And when we sat down to break bread we spoke thanks for the past year. My heart was full and how do you express thanks for a whole new person came from you. One who breathes and laughs and lives, who used to sleep tucked up close to your heart and now you hold close as they sleep tucked up in your arms?

Many spoke of change, of marriage and moving and soaking in the more. More peace, more rest, more life, through all the change God had given more.

Peace was there, between the words of thanks and the smiles and tears.

And sitting on the back deck watching a sun set with pie and coffee and deep conversation, there was peace, too.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Working up an appetite

Z and his uncle

Place Setting

Throwing tomahawks

Sunset

Flirt

Family

Thanksgiving, Day Five

The Church

I am not theologically versed when it comes to the Church.

But I know her. The Scripture, it calls the Church the Bride of Christ, and she and I are good friends. She has been, to me, a place of sanctification, of safety, of soul rending and soul mending.

She and I have spent a lifetime of Sunday mornings services, small group meetings, praise & worship practices, summer camps, service projects, and even much of my schooling, together.

She is not perfect, so far from perfect; but she is redeemed and she is worth fighting for. 

I spent four years pointing out her hypocrisy & apathy before I heard the Holy Spirit whisper that it was to be my calling to love the church, not despise her. 

For when has true change, the good kind that grows from the roots up, that produces life, when has that ever stemmed from hate, or anger, or judgment, or criticism? 

And we must be heartbroken, not calloused, when Christ is missed because of the Church's brokenness. Isn't that her purpose - to show Christ to the world while she waits for Him to return? And if the church is missing her purpose, it follows that we are missing ours?

Because we are the Church.

The more I learn how to love the Church, the safer I find her to be. The more I fight for her to be ready for Christ, the more I see her as Christ does. 

I am thankful for the Church because it is through her that I have experienced the deep and abiding love of Christ. 

I am thankful for the Church because it is through her that I have known forgiveness and poured myself out to forgive. 

I am thankful for the Church because through her and by the power of Christ, I have seen more lives - including my own - transformed by mercy and grace than I have seen lives shattered.

I have hope for the Church, and I am thankful for that. 

Thanksgiving, Day Four

Writers Block

... because to get over it, I will have to kick this perfectionism thing in the pants for good. 

And that would be something to be thankful for. 

Thanksgiving, Day Three

Sleep

I love sleep. 

I don't anymore. Sleep, I mean. Well, not the way I used to. 

If you want to test your character, take away guaranteed uninterrupted sleep. Notice I didn't say take away uninterrupted sleep, because of course parents (even if it is every once in awhile) get uninterrupted sleep. It's the fact that it is no longer a guarantee. 

Z could not stir until 7.00, or he might wake up at 2.30, or 4.00, or 5.45 ... or all three.  

That can really mess a person up. 

Sometimes, I fantasize about what it's like to have the ability sleep in. Especially the first time I became kind of sick after having Z, that's when it really hit me. 

I can't even sleep on a sick day. 

To be honest, it has been kind of nice getting up early and being productive. On the reals, that's not even a silver-lining attempt at being okay with waking up with the sun every morning. I truly enjoy getting up and getting things done. 

Every once in awhile though, I'd love to be able to sleep till eleven if I wanted. This may sound laughable, but I never realized how entitled I was about my sleep before having Z. 

Like, the first few weeks I walked around all surly (and sleep deprived), and would snap at my husband and say things like, "I don't want to talk to people who get to sleep for eight hours in a row!" 

*sigh*

It was a right, now it's a privilege. 

One that I am fortunate to experience pretty often, because Z is (so far) a pretty decent sleeper. 

And I am so thankful. 

Thanksgiving, Day One

In part writing exercise and part spiritual discipline, I'm writing a post each day for the rest of November about something I am thankful for.  

Thankfulness, like joy, is more a discipline than anything? One that I too often wait to feel than do. Maybe thankfulness tills up the heart-earth so seeds can be planted. 

I say, often, that God has given me more than I deserve. This is true, but it feels too weak. The truth is God has flooded my life with the good in a way that brings me to my knees. I use to dwell in what could be taken away, and all it did was foster fear. Now, trembling, I dwell in the good things. Trying, with all the soul-strength I have, to let the good in my life point to God.

I think, at the end of the day, we will either suffocate in the brokenness of the world or we will drown in His grace, and maybe thankfulness makes all the difference? 

Day One :: My Husband

Before we get to the mushy stuff, here are some photos from our wedding day. We had an amazing photographer. 

Writing everything about my husband that I appreciate would make this post incredibly long and ramble-y. 

He's a long walk on a spring day, a sweet tea on a back porch, and a deep conversation over a cup of black coffee all rolled into one. 

See what I mean?

Instead, I'll narrow my focus. Today, what I appreciate about my husband is his passion. It was ignited by Christ, planted at the foot of the cross, and fed by philosophers. 

He loves intensely, plays intensely, thinks intensely, even sleeps intensely. I've never met anyone who can go from wake to sleep as quickly or deeply as he does.

When he proposed, I knew (theoretically) that I was signing up to be pushed out of my comfort zone for the rest of my life. Which, if you know me, is a good thing. My husband shoots for the moon in all aspects of life, and the crazy thing is more often than not, he gets there. 

It has been an adventure, but not in the exotic, travel to far-off lands, kind of way. Anyone who looked at our lives from the outside may not see much out of the ordinary. 

But figuring out another soul like you do in marriage is never ordinary. 

Yesterday was our three year anniversary. In the past three years we have....

...raised support to be stateside missionaries to a college campus.
...thrown out our five-year plan.
...signed up for Netflix, watched every episode of: The Last Airbender, Parks & Rec, several embarrassing sci-fi shows, and season one of Downton Abbey.
...got rid of Netflix.
...created 3,692ish inside jokes.
...fought ... a lot.
...learned how to fight. (Well, for the most part.)
...then even learned how to laugh in the middle of a fight.
...moved twice. The second time being the same week we had Z. In the immortal words of Miss Swift, "We are never, ever, ever..." again moving while having a child.
...spent two summers in Colorado.
...went to the Denver Zoo and watched a polar bear eat a Canadian Goose that had accidentally flown into the polar bear tank. (It was like watching the Discovery Channel in real life.)
...learned that our marriage should be a safe place for each other. A safe place for our dreams to be encouraged, our frustrations to be vented, and our brokenness to be met with grace.
...realized that making your marriage a safe place is easier said than done. Maybe we'll have it down by our thirty year anniversary?
...figured out that my husband loves mixed drinks more than I, and I love dark beers more than he.
...had a baby. 

...and done a thousand and one different things that have slowly knit us together.

Thank you, Jesus, for letting me walk through this life with him.