Laughing Through a Little Sour

We can't stop laughing. I try to hold the camera still enough to take pictures.

"Why does she reach for it again??...."

She wants it badly enough to deal with a little sour!

Giving thanks today for things that I continue to "reach" for, I am truly so grateful ... even if I do have to deal with a little sour...

#19 cloth diaper fiascos. Velcro closures+Baby who likes velcro noise=cute, persistent trouble.

#20 teaching how to read the word "said" to a sweet, forgetful five year old

#21 home cooked meals

#22 laundry laundry laundry

#23 car problems.... having one in the first place and being wealthy enough to fix the problems!

#24 Gracious Spirit Who convicts, reminds, and refines. O Love that will not let me go.

"I will extol the LORD at all times;

His praise will always be on my lips."

When You Don't Know What You Were Made For: Love Letters (Part 2)

I write them every Christmas. At bare minimum I give them to my immediate family(17 written last year), I try to write for my extended family as well. They are the best gift I know how to give, the only gift I think they might still have in 20 years.

Love Letters.

I take note throughout the year of things I love and appreciate about each person. I pray for them, and try to be aware of how God is working in their lives.

The commitment to write these letters has been challenging in several ways. They remind me to be in real relationship and communication with those I love... how else will I have specifics to write about? I don't ever want these to become generic "you are special" kind of letters. Each year already seems shorter and busier, and paying attention and not missing moments that really count takes effort. Sad, but true.

They make me think. Really stop and think. Why do I love and appreciate this person? How have they been a blessing to me? How can I encourage them in their relationship with God? If one of us was called home to be with our Lord tomorrow, what would I wish I had said?

It makes me cry. It's surprising how long we can go without truly saying "I love and appreciate you because ... " to those we treasure so much. And the because matters. The "because" can sometimes be surprisingly difficult to write at different points in certain relationships. The specific appreciation and praising in some strange way makes me feel vulnerable to whoever I may be struggling with. It sheds light on grievances or offenses I silently hadn't let go. Writing the love letters breaks down walls in me I didn't even know were there. It helps break down the lies, bitterness, unforgiveness and pride that are tucked away in my deceitful heart and frees me to speak the truth " I love you because...".

Though tomorrow is not guaranteed, we forget that we are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

I want to be a refreshing mist.

"Like cold water to a weary soul is good news to a distant land."

~Proverbs 25:25

We can be islands unto ourselves. Even from those we live with. Especially from those we live with. The "distant land" I may need to send good news to is often sitting across from me at the dinner table.

Maybe these are some reasons that when I receive a letter or note it is so cherished. I have always felt that way. I love written love!

I think Jesus does too. He is such a personal God, he speaks to us so intimately, using the most endearing terms in our language to communicate His affection to our deaf hearts. His letter to us is unrushed and detailed, telling us all that we need to know about His love for us. If we go home to Him tomorrow, those are the things He wanted said and read.

But it can be hard to hear Him. And it can be hard to read His letter.

So He gives us another kind of letter.

"You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts."

~2 Cor. 3:3

He gives us each other.

You are His Letter.

I am too.

What kind of letter am I? Who am I a letter to? What do I communicate about Christ to others through my life?

He is Love. Would they say I am patient or kind? That I am not easily angered, that I keep no record of wrongs?

He is Truth. Do I help them recognize His voice? Do I speak Truth, or do I let other things dominate my words?

He is Hope. Do I even get near enough to the lost, the lonely, the wounded, the dying, for them to even have a chance to read His letter that He has written on my heart?

And what Letters are God sending my way? What is He writing to me through those all around me who know, love, and follow Him? Could I be brave enough to listen to them? To Him?

He created some amazing, heart-pounding, knee-bending, Spirit-crafted Letters.

I know. I get to live with some of them.

I give them my letters, but do I give them His? Do I tell them how much He loves them enough? Do I tell them why?

"This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him."

~1 John 4:9

"I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

~ John 10:10

The Word Who became flesh, dwelt among us, and died for us so that we might have full life. The greatest Love Letter ever written.

When You Don't Know What You Were Made For: Love Letters (Part 1)

Nothing could have prepared me for what she said. It was so unexpected.

Mom could barely choke out the words.

"Mr. Davenport died this morning..."

Silence only broken by her soft, deep sobbing. I sat still, dazed by this sharp blow. My throat ached, tears burned, welled, dropped and poured out. He was one of my Dad's dearest friends, a well loved family friend, my dear friend...

It was early morning, and my mind was swimming, thrashing, trying to tread water in high, crashing waves. "What? How... what?...".

We are deeply affected by those who love us well, we trust them with a part of ourselves, and now that part was suddenly, inexplicably gone.

He had joked with me, smiled at me, talked with me, listened to me and made judgements but never judged me my whole lost-little-girl-trying-to-be-a-woman life.

And when this scared, scarred, lonely girl admitted to unwed pregnancy at nineteen he did not break me with his words but broke down my fears with Truth and Love. He immediately made a self-proclamation to be the child's godfather.

My daughter was barely making her presence seen, only a tiny bump that was changing my world... now he was gone.

She would never hear how his voice smiled. She would never hear the jokes, the laughing at his own jokes, or the velvet-tipped arrow questions followed by treats and movies and time together.

She would never get to hug him.

He loved to hug people, break through those barriers we set up so well. He hugged with his arms and with his words. He rightly called fellow Christ followers "brother" and "sister", and treated them as such. He loved Jesus and walked with Him and talked with Him and shared their conversations with anyone who would listen.

I remember the last time I saw him, I got a call from my Dad that he was in the hospital. I had visited him in the hospital often, many times over many years. He was in for something different this time, not as serious as others. I've never liked hospitals, but he had a way of making them seem less scary. I was sure he would have new stories to tell, especially if he had a new nurse that didn't know him. He loved to yell "ouch!" when they would try to give him an IV or shot then he would laugh and try to joke away the panic he had caused. Needless to say he was popular and well know by the staff.

I almost didn't go because I had really goofy hair from a photoshoot I had just done. It was my last pre-baby shoot, and I was self-conscience and worn from having worked all day in white clothes(that emphasized my shameful secret) and tired from not having eaten well. But I knew he wouldn't care what I looked like, though I was sure he would tease me about it. He sincerely complemented my hair almost immediately after we greeted each other, disarming my insecurity and leaving us open for real, undistracted conversation.

He had an infection so he wouldn't let me hug him. Especially since I was pregnant. So he hugged me with his words the whole time, me the injured and him the whole, laying in the hospital bed happy, hopeful, and just beautifully himself. When the time came for our normal goodbye he smiled warmly and waved saying "I'll hug you next time I see you!...". He promised.

I know he'll keep that promise.

It was surreal, but had to be true. I had rarely seen my mother cry. I hugged my swelling belly and grieved beyond words for this man who had loved me so well. I gave my daughter his name in the center of hers and promised to tell her of his love for her though they would never meet face to face on this earth.

James.

I wondered if he knew how much I loved him. Had I told him enough? Had I told him why?

Life's brevity struck me to the core and inspired the Love Letters I write to my family each year...

When You Can't Find a Piece of Your Puzzle

Thirteen. The number of people with different schedules that buzz around this home on a daily basis.

Individual. A gracious description of the varied personalities.

Puzzles. Our lives in different shapes, sizes, number of pieces.

Every day we pour these pieces out on the kitchen table. Some are light, some dark, some small and seemingly obscure, some large and unignorable, some with serrated edges, some smooth.

So many pieces piles on top of each other and not enough workspace can be frustrating.

I just want to work on my puzzle today.

She reaches for another piece of hers and bumps me off balance and doesn't apologize but rather looks at me in disgust for being in her way. He can't find his corner pieces, and doesn't even know where to start, and blasts the whole family for hours describing the issue. She is bored with hers, She needs help with hers, He wants me to look at and enjoy his...

I just want to work on my own puzzle today.

I finally pull away. Just gather up all my pieces and go behind closed doors.

There. Now I can lay them out, and get some organization going, and have things in place in no time!

But time and effort produce only a very gap-filled puzzle. I study and study and study but there seem to be no more pieces for these holes. Some I can't seem to fit in anywhere. Maybe I left some pieces in the other room? Maybe I couldn't find some because of all their mess...

Determined to have one day where everything is neatly done, I rummage through their pieces, trying to ignore the banter I am overhearing. They've got to be here somewhere....

And then I see it. It looks exactly the right size and shape, yes, I am sure this fits with my puzzle. But wait, eyebrows furrow and yes, this is unmistakably a part of her puzzle. Well, what could it hurt to try it anyway? I hesitate, then ask if she minds if I give it a try in mine. She says she doesn't mind, and almost seems grateful.

It fits!

She smiles and says "thank you, I don't know how I could have figured that out on my own".

I smile back. I'm happy I could help. And a gap is filled. Everyone is a winner here. Now, back to my searching.

Again, again, and again, I see them. Surely they must fit, they are exactly right, only they are definitely part of their puzzles...

Then I notice hers. She has a solid framework there and just one piece missing in that section... "hold on just a second..." I bring a piece of mine to her. "Could you maybe help me with this?"

She smiles and cheerfully helps settle my piece in her puzzle. Those colors and shapes together are complimentary. We agree it is even kind of pretty.

One at a time, we work together, noticing things that others would have missed, and by the end of the day we have completely shared everything and stand back to admire our good work.

It is beautiful. A large, elaborate picture of a richly ornamented bride. One complete piece from many puzzles.

We sigh in satisfaction and talk about how beautifully perfect all our puzzles are together, making a much better and complete picture than we could on our own. We compliment each others efforts. We appreciate the differences.

We finally say our goodnights and off to our rooms we go. We fall asleep with smiles and the wonder of working together.

Whispered prayer on my lips, I hope we will remember this by morning...

"If we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us."

~1 John 4:12

"So in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us."

~Romans 12:5&6a

When Children are a Distraction

Church with children is an experience like no other.

She scratches the pen back and forth loudly. During prayer. Can a pen make that much noise?

I reach over and grab it, shake a no ma'am glance her way, and try to refocus on prayer. What was the pastor talking about?

When it's time I ask her if she wants to go to children's church, she says she prefers big church, she's been "big" since she was a year and half old .

I don't want her to be distracting to others. I say so. I have to keep saying so. She doesn't commit repeat offenses but it is obvious she is missing the point. But I let her stay, I always let her stay, how can I make her leave when she says she wants to learn about Jesus with me?

Then yesterday, it happens.

The baby's sleep schedule is off it's normal track and she is very tired and still, so I bounce her during singing, hoping she will fall asleep in my arms. Not a chance. Baby does, however, remain consistent in beginning to fuss as soon as the sermon starts. I have to leave sweet, loud Little Girl with Daddy.

I sigh. I really wanted to hear this today... about honoring God with your wealth. The grace of giving. Maybe even really giving sacrificially?

I know I can't leave Baby in the nursery when she is like this. Rather than accept defeat I decide to try letting her walk around behind the curtains towards the back, and maybe that will muffle sounds enough?

Success. All is going as well as can be expected, and I try to pray "yes" to whatever God wants for my wealth while whispering to my ever faster, toddling Baby "no, don't stick your finger in the light socket... no, don't peel that off the ground and eat it... no, don't grab onto the curtains..."

Time for communion. I join the Husband and we walk to the front together, arms overflowing with the blessing of little girls.

I think this is one reason Little Girl doesn't want to go to children's church. She loves communion. She has been heartbroken when she has missed it because of the kids coming back to the service too late. Once when I thought she didn't understand communion I asked her about it, and she gave an eloquent and soul-humbling response proving me wrong... but that is another story.

We slow up the line and though the pastor reminds that this isn't fast food I often feel we are in the way. We partake and I am soul-sensitive, tears closer to the rims of my eyes. Could there be a more natural response to thinking about what He has done and thanking Him for it? I sense it in my church family too.

Nothing But the Blood of Jesus begins and I am caught from the very first words.

"Your blood speaks a better word

than all the empty claims

I've heard upon this earth

Speaks righteousness for me

And stands in my defense

Jesus, it's your blood..."

Children squirm and distract and I am grateful when Husband picks up Little Girl. Just before I close my eyes I see her hands rise as we sing

"What can wash us pure as snow?

Welcomed as the friends of God?

Nothing but your blood,

Nothing but your blood, King Jesus."

She has never been shy, and my church is, and what a beautiful distraction from ourselves her waving arms are.

I stop thinking about distracting others, and thank God for her unashamed innocence and how can I not cry or raise my hands to His beautiful love that we should ever be washed as pure as snow and welcomed as the friends of God? Amazing Love.

He is worthy of all honor and all praise, and not just the calm kind either. And while I don't know how I would feel about a Kind David kind of celebration of His Goodness , I want to

praise Him wholeheartedly, undividedly and go out with joy and be lead forth in peace.

Thanking Him today for ways that Little Children lead, remind, distract from self, and redirect to the real Reason for this life...

#8 learning to clap hands

#9 unrushed hugs

#10 default optimism

#11 rediscovering the joy of water

#12 that sleep is necessary for health

#13 giggling, falling over laughter

#14 heartfelt, off-key singing and dancing

#15 forgiveness for harshness

#16 just wanting to be in relationship

#17 asking why and expecting and trusting that I know the answer

#18 perseverance

The Words of My Mouth

Eyes still closed, I hear the soft jingle of keys and the hushed moving about the dark room. I half-wake to Husbands good morning kiss. He whispers he loves me and to have a good day as he leaves for work. I mumble a response and peaceful moments float by to the rhythmic humming of fan and Baby breath.

Baby is sleeping so well and the bed wraps its comfortable warm around me as I stretch into the extra, newly available space. The Spirit encourages, and it is now or never, so I rise clumsily to begin the day.

He is first. I am trying to make Him first. Exercising my discipline muscles a little bit more each day. The spirit is willing and though the flesh is weak the weakness leaves me as I begin to pray.

Before opening my Bible I pray that I would not only listen, but that I would hear. He answers immediately.

" a gossip separates close friends..."

I am a little jarred by this sudden moment of hearing Him. Unsettled even. This is not at all what I wanted to hear about. I wanted to hear direction and encouragement for this new school year, I was listening for financial discernment and wisdom, for how to be a better wife or mother.... but His Spirit speaks, and then waits.

Yes, I heard You Lord.

It seems I must begin my day with confession. Logical defenses are put to death quickly and I choose not to fight Him, I know He disciplines and corrects those He loves.

I confess of yesterday, of words not beneficial, words that did not edify anyone. I confess of being judgmental, of being self-righteous, and yes, I squeeze it out, a gossip.

It hurts. I acknowledge this sin against Him, and ask Him if as far as the east is from the west is quite far enough to remove this sin, please take it further?

My mouth. A restless evil. A deadly poison. Overflow from a deceitful and desperately wicked heart. I am ashamed. I want to hide my face, as though He doesn't see.

He speaks again. He reminds that it is faithful and just that when I confess He forgives and purifies me from all unrighteousness. Pure. White. Clean. Done. Forgiven. Clean slate. Move on! He praises me(more than this sinful heart can bear-but don't I do the same with my Child?) for fearing Him and respecting Him enough to acknowledge the sin and hand it over to Him in truth and repentance. He reminds me that He does not treat me as my sins deserve, and that He is a compassionate and loving Father. And that I proved I do trust in Him, and I will not be put to shame.

He will not put me to shame. And if He is for me, who can be against me?

I breath out self-condemnation and inhale His love and His words. As confirmation, and I guess just in case I had ignored His unspoken words before reading, there it is, in black and white, in verse 28 of the Proverb for today "... a gossip separates close friends." I smile in the freedom of forgiveness and truth of verse 6 "Through love and faithfulness sin is atoned for."

He is so loving and faithful, alive and active!

And He confides in those who fear Him. I am overwhelmed by the compliment as He allows me to recognize Him speaking this day, to me, this girl-made-woman through Grace.

He rewinds, reminds, teaches.

Had I not been asking, asking, asking for spiritual eyes? He had been letting me see. See the lack, see the need, see the wrong He wants to right. Had I not been asking, asking, asking to be a part of His work? His work, not mine. How many times must He tell me? The feelings of helplessness are accurate, these things are not mine to control, to change.

So I had opened my mouth in complaint to others. He means me to open it in prayer in to Him. I opened my mouth in judgement. He means me to open it in petition.

Salt and fresh water flow from the same spring. This should not be so.

He asks me if complaining about anything or anyone is ever beneficial. I think a long time. I give reasons, explain feelings, situations.

"A fool gives full vent to his feelings" He says.

I am silent.

How do I still this poisonous tongue? Stop the complaining? He tells me the antidote. He shows it to me in His word, in writing, I want to ignore it. I don't even want to read a holy experience today because I know what I will read of.

Thankfulness.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."

~Philippians 4:6

Today I will practice thankfulness as if He was coming to bring me home with Him this evening. For how can I know if tomorrow will ever come? And I want to be found with praise and thankfulness on my lips!

Today I am thanking God for things I am tempted to complain about...

#1 Little Girl who knows she can come to me after she's had an accident, and that I'll wash her clean, cuddle afterwards, and tell her it will be okay

#2 Washing machine to do the extra laundry

#3 Nursing Baby who interrupts everything, even quiet time

#4 Run on sentences and conversations

#5 Wrinkles

#6 Little Girl's nature "treasures". Lots of them.

#7 Not enough time to finish writing a thankfulness list because I am needed...

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer."

~Psalm 19:14

Happiness is on the Menu

Husband wanted to go out to eat. I didn't. I just can't shake the Food Inc., Food Matters, Jordan Rubin information out of my mind.

My sweet, hard working, deserving Husband likes options when choosing his food, he likes it to look pretty, and he likes to eat immediately when he is hungry.

It was time to get creative!

I sent him to the store for a couple of items, and got to work!

When he returned home he was greeted by a sweetly dressed Hostess(who was very happy to have the opportunity to wear her beloved flower girl dress again). He was asked to have a seat, received his menu for the evening, and was asked for his drink order.

This was a pay-as-you-go meal.

He Ordered: Green Dream (Iced Organic Green Tea)

Payment: $Loving Look

Then as an Appetizer he ordered: The Works( a salad with all the toppings you can dream up in Papa Bear size portions)

Payment: $Great Big Daddy Bear Hug

When he got to Entrees he had a hard time deciding and asked his waitress for recommendations.

My mom and I waited in the kitchen, laughing as silently as we could, knowing what he would eventually come to... then when he reached the "You Name It" burger we heard him bust out laughing "Ha! Yeeeeeeah, right. Some of these are a little expensive... and besides you know that's not up to me, you gotta talk to Him about that... and uh, is this also on a 'pay-as-you-go' basis? How's that supposed to work..."

Mom and I are nearly doubled over now. I can't stop laughing. But in order to keep things age appropriate for the Curious Little Audience I interrupted "okay, okay, so what are you going to have?..."

For his Entree and Side he chose: I Know You Love Me(Texas Cheese Fries with Cheese, Ranch, and Bacon Bits) and Hurdicuss Maximus(Two Jalapeno Beef Patties with Cheese, Avacado, Bacon, Fresh Veggies and Ranch)

Payment: $ A Kiss for the Cook, and $ Happy Dance

And we did have desert, and there was plenty of payment of the $Lip Smacking and $Ooohs and Ahhhs... but I had joined them at this point so there are no pictures of the deliciousness that would have caused you to rush out and eat an entire half gallon of ice cream by yourself. You are welcome.

Playing and book reading were a beautiful end to a wonderful evening.

Every good and perfect gift is from above!