Into the Deep

What is the best way to learn to swim in the ocean?

I would venture to say that the toddler pool would not be very helpful.  Even going as far as the adult pool, maybe the 8-12 foot deep end, would not be enough.

Why?  Well, for one thing the ocean is vastly deep and often rough.  Undertow can end the life of the most strong swimmers, not to mention the wildlife swimming below.  A clean, chlorinated community pool is not the same.  Not even close.

To be a strong swimmer in the ocean requires understanding of the behavior of the waters and wildlife, and incredible strength to withstand the pummeling of large waves.

One has to study and and train in order to survive the wild.

Lately I have been pondering this reality.  As I prepare to launch my firstborn into adulthood and strive to educate my younger children I have seen a common thread woven throughout this season of life.

We avoid boredom like the plague.  We don’t know what to do with it.  Stillness makes us unsettled and we rescue ourselves from it with the click of a smartphone.

Just look to your left or right at any intersection.  Most people cannot handle even one minute of boredom, pulling out their phone to fill the empty space until the light turns green.  Dead air on the radio for more that two seconds will prompt us to change the channel.

Even our children, with fresh and creative minds so able to learn and explore, are taught to turn to video games and television because the adults find it easier…less messy…more quiet in the house when the headphones are on and the controller is clicking away.

We have shelves full of books that sit unread.  Art supplies still in their original packaging, purchased with great intentions but rarely used.  Yet we scroll.  We click.

And we die.

We were created for more.  We live in a tumultuous and rocky world.  An ocean of culture and change lies before us but we don’t know how to swim in it.  Our minds numb, becoming accustomed to shallow waters, bright floaties and chaise lounges while our surroundings succumb to the flood.

We can’t even tread water.

But we can change this.  What if we choose excellence?  What if we listen, read and learn and bless our minds with strong tools for survival?  What if we study the dark spiritual waters and learn how to swim in them, to stay afloat and rescue others who are sinking?  The specifics are up to you and me.  Only we know ourselves and where we have neglected good and necessary growth.  But I suggest we begin by seeking God, diving into the Scriptures and letting the outflow of that affect our choices in entertainment, media and education.  We learn to allow ourselves to sit in boredom, to become contemplative in those awkward moments and let it result in growth and creativity.

My goodness, imagine what we might hear from the Lord if we give Him a quiet space in which to speak!

“Be still and know…”

Turn away from foolish things and look to the good, true and beautiful.  Retrain our minds to look inward and evaluate ourselves before looking outward for a quick fix at the stop light.

Let silence ring loud in our ears and listen…

We can hear ourselves breathing.  We might even hear our own hearts beating.

Build strong spiritual muscles in those moments and swim out into the deep, unafraid when the shore disappears because we have trained and are ready.  Truth is our guide and Jesus is our light piercing the darkness.

We were born for more than a quick fix.   Don’t settle any longer.

Into a New Season

Change, it is a-happening around here.  My oldest, my firstborn, my suddenly taller-than-me man-child who made me a mama is a Senior in high school.

A SENIOR.

He was on my hip with a blankie in hand just five minutes ago.

Add to that the preparations for the homeschool year of my younger four, (I also have a JUNIOR for crying out loud!) cutting several inches of curls off my middle’s long hair (resulting in her suddenly looking like a teenager…which she is…but still…) and finding armpit hairs on my eleven year old son and, well, I may or may not be on the verge of tears at the mere sound of a baby laughing or a toddler holding up it’s arms and saying, “Hold you!”

I could lament, or I could celebrate the season I am in.  To be honest, I’m doing a little of both.

I have no one in elementary school any more.  No one who fits into “kids-size” clothing.  No one who has a bow in their hair or baby teeth.  It’s weird.  It’s wonderful.  It’s hard.  It’s freeing.

Independence is right at their ages, for the most part.  They shouldn’t need me to butter their toast or heat up their leftovers.  They can fold their own laundry and put away the dishes.  (Now if only I could get them to clean their ROOMS!)  They can read and ride their bikes and entertain themselves, allowing me the time to do things I enjoy such as writing.

I homeschool the youngest four, which means we are together much more than we are not.  But, still, sometimes I miss them.

Oh, they are here.  I love engaging in their conversations and receive plenty of smiles and hugs, but life has dramatically changed in the past few years.  They don’t “need” me like they once did, which is both awful and beautiful at once.

I took the three youngest to the zoo today.  At ages 13, 11 and 11 (yes, that is two elevens) I wasn’t sure if they would think they were too “old” for the zoo.  I feared they might think it “lame.”

I was so gloriously wrong.

We explored and oohed and ahhed over animals we had not visited in a long time.  The new Andean Bear exhibit was breathtaking, two big bears wrestling and rolling in the grass like siblings.  My thirteen year old whispered, not knowing I could hear her, “This is awesome.”

And it was.

Memories of their childhood flooded my heart as I saw mamas with babies in carriers, strollers parked outside exhibit doors, and heard a little boy exclaim, “My pip-pops!” when his flip-flop fell off.  We all relished the sweetness of the little ones surrounding us as much as we relished the beauty and diversity of God’s handiwork.

It was a good day.  It was filled with smiles and sunshine and, for just a few hours, I felt like I was standing astraddle of the gap between life as it was and life as it is.  I saw the wonder of a little child in the faces of my not-so-little kids and I am just so thankful for the respite of remembering before the busyness of our school year begins.

Times are changing, old seasons are gone, but if I take a moment and open my eyes to what is before me I can see the hope and future of these children in whom I have invested my life.  Despite the hormones and, dare I say, attitude of the pre-teen and teen years, the remnants of the little ones who once placed their chubby hands in mine are still there.

Now the hands I hold are bigger, stronger, and maybe even calloused.

But they fit mine perfectly just like they always have.

Evening Wonder-A Poem

Stars above shine bright,
distant clouds flicker from within,
illuminated by light

The power of God on display
in skies alive with electric joy,
celebrating the end of day

Crickets sing in harmony,
waves of praise to the Ancient of Days
and the lightning beckons me

Look up, oh daughter, and see
your King’s flashing sword at play!
He comes to you on bended knee,

woos you with beauty and song.
Do you feel the waves of grace?
Do you see where you belong?

The storm is hovering afar,
the threat overtaken by beauty,
bolts of lighting spar.

Sculptured clouds dance,
with joy and abandon they glow,
and all of creation declares His glory

The Turning of Peter (and maybe of us)

Last week’s post resonated with so many of you.  You wrote to me, commented on my Facebook page, and generally said you felt like it was written just for you.

This world is so dangerous.  It seems to be spiraling out of control, with sentiment against the people of God growing more sour, more violent, by the minute.  News reports are filled with so much negativity that I, for one, can hardly bear to watch it any more.

Just imagine if there had been a 24 hour news cycle during Jesus’ earthly life.  

Bodies hanging from crosses, children ripped from their mothers’ arms and forced into slavery or the military, crowds screaming for the murderer to be released while the Innocent One was nailed clean through his wrists and ankles…

Yes, I can see why Peter faltered and, in his weakness, denied he had ever known Jesus.

Because knowing Jesus is dangerous.

Today I read on in the book of Luke. Chapter 24.  

The disciples’ world was shattered as their best friend, and their hopes for the Kingdom of God to come, died on a tree.  In sorrow and grief they retreated, not knowing what to do now.  It was over.  Hope was gone.

Suddenly the door burst wide open and a group of women stood, breathless and eyes filled with tears of wonder, words stumbling over each other as they relayed what they had seen.

“He’s alive!  Jesus lives!  We saw Him!  He spoke to us!  The tomb is empty and He lives!”

Bull.

I can just hear the men, grumbling and shaking their heads.  They had seen Jesus die.  No one had ever survived a crucifixion and the soldiers had even pierced his side to be sure he was dead.  These women are grief-crazed and full of…

but Peter rose.

Three simple words pregnant with GRACE.  The one who denied Jesus, whose last interaction with the Messiah was that long and sorrowful moment of eye contact upon denying Jesus for the third time, who had done what he vowed he would never do and was surely beating himself up inside, rose.

Could it be?  It is possible?  It’s not over?  I have to know.  I have to GO.

And Peter rose and ran to the tomb.

The biggest failure became the first follower.  The fearful one became fearless.  The weak one…

Well, just read the second chapter of Acts to find out what God does with the weak ones!  Savor the words of Peter’s sermon at Pentecost (Acts 2:14-41) and read them with the memory of Peter’s denial of Jesus fresh in your mind.  LOOK WHAT GOD CAN DO!

I need this!  I need to remember, as I’m raising kids and fighting off the threats that surround my family, that God is above and beyond the worst the world can throw at us!  He is above Crucifixion and death, and He is certainly above social media and the 24 hour news cycle!

Let all the house of Israel therefore know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.  Acts 2:36

Peter spoke with authority, now fully convinced of the Lordship and power of the Son of God.

Am I?  Are you?

Oh, that I would learn to pray in power and the confidence of the Holy Spirit who is God within me!  What would happen if I lifted my face to my Father and declared my standing before Him, as an intercessor, a member of the Holy Priesthood, His precious child and warrior?  What if I prayed from a place of authority instead of timidity?

Because too often I squeak out a “please, God” instead of “this I know.”

I lament when I should be taking up my sword and standing in the gap as a warrior for my family.

I approach God with downcast eyes instead of boldness and outstretched arms.

Can you relate?

So today, sisters, let us rise and run to the tomb!  Declare who Jesus IS, because he LIVES and in His might we fight for our babes and the men we love!  I want to stop hoping and start knowing, praying out of a place of faith and expectation for what God IS going to do because I remember well what He has already done!

Are you in?  Lace up your shoes…it’s time to run.

Mama Bear

The only way joy will become a part of this story is if there is justice.

UPDATE:  The search team has found the remains of children in the area.  Here is a link to the post.  Please continue to pray and speak out.  Human trafficking is a VERY real and present epidemic in our country.  The victims are often children as young as two years old.  The body of Christ must be willing to be the hands and feet of Jesus and help however He may ask of us.

THIS IS NOT A TYPICAL #ALIFEOFSIMPLEJOYS POST.

I don’t know about you, but news articles about children being hurt or abused punch me in the gut.  I cannot bear the thought of an innocent child suffering.

But suffering, too often, occurs.  And even worse is when it is at the hands of an adult who should be protecting them.

This post will be short.  This post has no joy attached to it because what I have seen is dark.  The only way joy will become a part of this story is if there is justice.

Please, friends, go to #operationbackyardbrawl and brace yourselves for what you will see.  The videos (and language) are graphic.  Share all over social media.  Force the powers-that-be to pay attention and fight for these little ones.  The voices of those trying to help are being squelched, videos that expose the atrocities are being removed.  And, to be honest, most of us are more likely to like and share a picture of our friend’s new baby or latest new recipe than posts like this.  Our society is numb.  We just don’t want to think about it, much less confront it.  But you and I both know the power of an army of mamas who refuse to back down from a fight for the lives of their children.  We must fight…on our knees.

Do you believe prayer works?  Do you believe God listens and answers the cries of his people?  I’ll admit, there are many times it has felt like my prayers are bouncing off the ceiling.  And Satan would love to keep it that way.  He wants to render us ineffective, distracted, and focused inward.

The enemy is real.  The level of evil that is permeating the dark places in society is beyond anything I could ever imagine.  Watch the videos.  Listen to the horrific descriptions of what these little ones have been forced to endure.

We must pray for these children.  There may not be much we can do for them physically at this point but we can wage war in the name of Jesus in the spiritual realm.  Let the mama bears rise up and refuse to be silenced!  The children…our children…deserve nothing less.

It will take the power of God to stop this.  And stop it, He will.  One day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord.  Until then, God has set us, His daughters, here at the watchtower.

Click here.

Then search #operationbackyardbrawl.

SHARE.

PRAY like you have never prayed before.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

A Good Word: She Speaks Stories Podcast

I don’t know about you, but I get tired of the droning of a television or radio.  Commercials, not-really-that-funny commentary to fill airtime or fulfill sponsor requirements, and never knowing what might pop up in an ad when little eyes and ears are nearby have kept my TV (and radio) mostly off, except for Fixer-Upper marathons, of course!

Enter the podcast.  I have subscribed to several, listening to them in the car, when cleaning, or at my computer.  I heart a good podcast.  It is such an easy way to fill my mind with truth and biblical encouragement and, sometimes, to get a much-needed good, clean laugh!  Which is why I am here, today, to share one of my favorites with you.

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Several years ago I had the pleasure of meeting Susan Wanderer, a fellow adoptive mama who happens to be raising up three of my favorite Ethiopian sweethearts ever and still manages to minister to countless children and families at her church.  She is a powerhouse of a woman, sold-out for Jesus and has the best laugh EVER.  Last year, she and her friend, Katie, began the She Speaks Stories podcast and it has blessed the living daylights out of me.  Each week is full of stories from women in the trenches, of God’s faithfulness and ability to use our struggles, even our worst nightmares, to make us like Jesus and shine His light into this desperate, dark world.  Susan and Katie interview a different woman each week, crying and laughing along with them (Did I mention Susan’s laugh?  I mean, y’all, I cannot have a bad day when she gets started!  From the gut, slap-your-thighs and grab-your-sides laughter that will lift even the most bah-humbug of spirits!).  And amidst the laughter and tears Jesus is made known.  Beautifully.

What more can I say? Go to iTunes and search “She Speaks Stories.”  It will pop right up, then hit SUBSCRIBE.  You will be so glad you did.  And just click here for the link for you non-itunes people:)

If you happen to read this, I just want to say thank you, Susan and Katie, for taking the time to share your heart and wisdom each week.  God is using you to breathe fresh air into our lives!  (And one of these day’s I’m going to make it to a She Speaks Stories conference! )

Standing Guard

I wish I could have gotten a photo without scaring them off.

The cardinal pair:  Her, pecking quietly at the seeds spilling from the bright yellow feeder.  Him, standing guard from a slender branch just across the narrow strip of grass usually dominated by our German Shepherd.  The wind blew and the branch shivered, but he stood at his post, eyes fixed on his mate.

Something about it captured my attention.

They only stayed for a few moments.  I wanted to grab my camera but knew they would be gone by the time I got back to the window and if I dared to go outside they would surely fly away.  So I stood quietly, framed by morning light and mesmerized by the simple beauty of a male guarding his mate.

She was so calm and content, not even glancing up at him.  She was just doing what every living creature does every day…eating.  Such a simple, normal thing.

Kind of like doing laundry.  All the laundry that piles up in the hamper on a regular basis.  The normal mundane of my day.

Or having coffee alone in the dining room before the kids awaken, sunlight streaming in the tall windows and silence filling the air until the clomp-clomp of bare feet interrupt the quiet and the morning busy begins.

He is there.  Every moment of every day.  Whether I notice him or not, God watches me…and you.  Whether I am mopping floors or sipping tea…or struggling to settle my mind after a stressful day…He stands near, watching.  Comforting in His calm, bringing peace to the very air I breathe if I will just stop and take it in.  My Father, our Father, is a constant presence.

How does this realization affect us?  How does it make you feel?  What does it make you want to do…or not do?  For me, it gives me peace,  boundaries built by love.  When I forget the presence of God I easily lose focus and struggle to make sense of interruptions, pain, and trials.  But when I practice the presence of God, stopping to intentionally breathe in the Spirit-filled air and remember Who is always by my side, I find strength and purpose in the mundane or the struggle. I find safety under the watchful eye of my ever-present Guard.