Living in the tension: How do we help others?

Driving to the grocery store, I noticed a man lying on the ground at the bus stop.  Something in the way he was haphazardly lying there, told me it wasn't a natural nap position.  I have seen countless homeless men and women lying on the ground to rest.  I have seen even more college students, or bikers, resting in the grass as they wait for the bus.  Nothing about this man's position communicated that he landed that way on the ground on purpose.  His arm was akwardly behind his head and his legs didn't look natural.

Something didn't seem right.

I was driving, and only had a moment to process what I saw.  I had to keep driving, or risk getting hit by the car behind me.

It didn't feel right though, driving away.

Every other car I saw was driving away.  None of them were driving toward the man to help.

I sat at the light and processed what it meant that we live in a culture that dozens of cars would pass a man, not moving, lying on the ground in an unnatural way.  It made me sad to be apart of the culture that was either too busy, too focused or too scared to care.  (Does this remind you of a parable Christ told?)

The light turned green and I turned around to go back.

At the very same time that I drove up, two other cars had turned around and were stopping.

My faith in humanity being restored a little in that moment.


I got out of my car to check the situation and talk with one of the other women that stopped who was on the phone with 911.  We could see he was breathing, but he still looked so unnatural and very, very still.  No one had approached him or touched him.

I walked over closer to the man so that I could get a better look and he could hear me talk to him.  I was just out of arms reach, and asked in a loud voice if he was OK.  He sat up, startled, and said he was fine.  I asked if he needed help, and he just laid back down.

Something didn't feel right.

I went to stand back next to the other women, and then the sirens of the police came from every direction.  Before we knew it, three police cars pulled up and took over.

An officer came out of her car and asked the gentleman if he was alright.  He sat up again, attesting to the fact that he was fine.  She asked if he needed any help since he was at the bus station and missed the bus just moments before.  His immediate response was, "PLEASE!  Don't take me back to rehab."

The officers looked at us and told us everything would be fine.  They told us they had it covered, they thanked us for phoning in, and we could go about our day.  These women and I exchanged glances, not knowing what else to do and said our good byes.

I did my shopping and on the way home 20 minutes later, the police were still there with an ambulance getting ready to the take the man to the local hospital.

I felt sad and relieved at the same time.  Life is clearly difficult for this man, but I was so thankful he was getting  help.

I came home and starting telling this tale to Paul with Big listening intently to our conversation.  Paul was of course immediately frustrated with me that I got out of the car.  He let his frustration show in the way he exhaled his breath.  Then he said something like, "Why did you do something so dumb?"

To which Big cried, "Mama didn't do anything dumb!  That's bad to say that dad.  She helped someone!  She did what she was supposed to.   Mama did something nice!"

Paul let me finish, then turned to Big and said, "I am happy mommy helped someone.  I really am.  But mommy could have stayed in the car where she was safe and called 911.  She risked her life by getting out and approaching that man.  He could have tricked her and was there waiting for an attack.  I always want mommy to help, but I need her to be safe.  She could have helped just as much by staying safely in the car, and getting the police there."

That is where the tension is.  That is what I felt in the car as I watched so many people pass by.  Not doing anything to help.  Not stopping.

How do we live in the light of hope and love while always being aware and safeguarding against the darkness?

I completely understand where Paul is coming from.  I get it.

And even while I get it, it breaks my heart that thoughts of protecting myself while helping others is a needed reality.

Gone are the days of just simply putting the needs of someone else before your own.  It is needed  to be aware of the traps and scams and people that will take advantage of kindness.  It hurt as Paul and I tried to explain this to our son.  We deeply desire to spur him on towards loving and helping others.  We want his life to reflect a heart for all people.  And yet, in that reality, we must make sure that he is at least aware of the darkness.  Aware enough that he is smart in the way he lives and comes to the aid of friends and strangers as he grows older.

There lies a tension in seeing people in their brokenness and doing what we can to help and love them, while remaining smart about how we go about it.

I want to throw caution out the window and just dive in.  I don't want to think about myself, or believe the worst in people.  I desire to do whatever I can to help someone, just because they need it.  However, Paul is right.  We live in a world where that could have easily been a trap and I would have walked right into it.  I could have suffered great damage or been one of thousands of women who disappear at the hands of a stranger, thus leaving behind a husband and three children, wifeless and motherless.

We can't be the people who just drive by, not seeing, or being too terrified to step out in love, worried always only about ourselves.

We must be a people who live in the hardness of the tension, especially as we teach our children.  We must be a people who helps a fellow man or woman or child in their moment of need.  I believe we can do it, while we are smart about it. 

We can't let fear win.

Love has to win.  Selflessness must win.  Compassion still exists, even in the tension.

I don't have an answer.  I don't know how to teach my children about this whole idea of loving others while protecting yourself.  I wrestle with it, not knowing how to understand it or live in it.

But I know I desire to find a way.  I desire for my children to always help others, and I desire for them to be smart.

In the meantime, we live in the tension, (hopefully leaning more towards love and selflessness).

The storms that seem to destroy our trust

It was early morning, the kids fell back asleep tucked in their car seats and wrapped in their blankets.  I had iced coffee and Sanders Bohke filling the car with soulful rich music.  It was a beautiful way to start our 12 hour drive home.  I was waiting for the sun to come up and greet us.  I was looking forward to the start of a brand new day, with the hopes of being filled with adventure and giggles from my kids as we sang silly songs and played games in the car.

We were heading west, so I watched the first signs of orange and red in the rearview mirror.  The further we drove however, it was clear that there was a huge storm in front of us.  At one point, immediately after the kids woke up, the sun was shining behind us, there were gray clouds over us, with slight sprinkles that brought out a double rainbow, but in the distance, I saw the blackness and I worried.  Big still really struggles with storms.  His triggers are dark clouds and thunder and instead of being safely tucked in a home under its protection, we were traveling in the big metal box that he saw damaged and pierced with tree limbs in the tornado two years ago.  His faith in our current protection was shattered as he too noticed the black clouds coming.  He looked out and said in a high pitched worried voice, “mama, its coming!  Look, something bad is coming!”

I tried to reassure him that we would be OK.  We worked on reality therapy.  I would ask him questions like, “Does thunder hurt us?  What is thunder?  What happens if it rains?  Who is bigger than this storm?  What has you worried the most?”  All these things he would answer, trying to hold onto the truth that the rain doesn't hurt and the thunder is just noise and we are never left alone.

But then we drove in the storm and even I got afraid.  Never in my life have I driven through such a storm.  It was almost like a winter white out, the rain was coming down so hard I couldn't see if front of us.  The sky moved from grey, to dark, to midnight black.  The rain pounded our car so hard that I couldn't even talk to the kids.  I had to scream to them that we were all right which just seemed to make it worse.  The thunder cracked so loud the windshield shook at one point.  The lightening would pierce the sky over and over.  My hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and I kept questioning whether we should pull over and stop and wait it out.  I knew though however that if I kept focused we could push through and get through the storm faster, than just sitting in it and waiting for it to pass. 

I needed my kids to trust me.  I took my eyes off the road for one brief moment to check the review mirror to make sure they were OK.  I saw all three kids huddled together with their blankets over their heads.  I saw Big, Middle and Little all holding hands.

As I drove through that storm, I am sure my children wished with all their might that I would pull over and find a safer place to be.   They wished that somehow I could make the storm stop, to just make it go away and bring the sun back.  But I wasn't doing that.  I kept driving through the storm and I needed them to trust me.  I needed them to trust me to make the right choice in driving through the storm.   That I knew when the storm was OK to drive through, and when it was time to pull over.  I needed them to trust that I would keep them safe even though they were scared.  I needed them to trust my love for them, that even though things were very hard right in this moment, I wouldn't do anything to hurt them.  Even when it felt absolutely terrifying, I needed them to trust me.

And then the rain started to ease up.  The thunder slowly started to sound softer, and the lightening was no longer flashing in the sky.  Streams of light starting to shine through the clouds and all of a sudden, we were on the other side.  The blackness we just drove through was behind us, reflecting in the review mirror, and the light was bright in front of us.

We had made it.

The kids slowly pulled down their blankets from their heads, and peaked out.  They cautiously looked at me and asked, “Is it over?  Are we safe again?” 

Yes.  We made it through.  Even though it was scary and hard, we made it through.

In the midst of the storm it was impossible to imagine it being over.  The storm raged so loud around us that it was all we could see, all we could hear, all we could live in.  I wasn't thinking about when it was over, I was thinking about, how do we live in this place right now and be OK?

And then God spoke softly in my heart, reminding me of how little I trust him when things are truly hard and overwhelming in my life and all I can see is the pain and the suffocating struggle of every day.  In that moment in the car, he begged me to trust him, just as I wanted my children to trust me.

There are days when I shut down and I hide in books or TV or FB or Twitter and I don’t want to come out.  I don’t want to face the things that make life hard.  I hide instead of handing my struggle to the Lord really learning what it means to trust him to guide me through it.

My children made it through that terrifying experience in the car that day.  While we walked back to our cabin this week in the black hills of SD, there were black clouds approaching and thunder rumbling in the distance.  As Big squeezed my hand, he looked at me and said, “We made it through that bad storm in the car mama, we can get through this one too.”

That is the great thing about trust.  When you put your trust in the one who can provide for you and get you through, every storm gets a little easier because they have proven to be trustworthy.  They become someone you can count on.

I spoke to Henry that day in the car and recalled the storm experience for him.  The first thing he said to me was, “You have a story in there.”  And he was right.

God has a way of taking the moments in our life and turning them into truths that we can hold on to get us through this journey called life.  These moments that can ground us in peace and love as we fight through the storms of life.  Our little family was scared that day, but we are stronger for it and God rested his peaceful hand on our hearts.

As we press on

I sat in a worship service in the black hills tonight.  I was surrounded by family and friends and strangers.  The candles were lit, the lights low, the music soft and gentle brushing over people’s hearts.  It wasn't just quiet, it was still.

We all faced the cross and the words were read, “Take a deep breath.  Breathe in and breathe out, breathe the very breath that connects you to the one who made you.”

I closed my eyes tight hoping beyond hope that I could grasp onto that connection.  I wanted desperately to feel passionately about my faith again.  I have been running on empty.  That deep connection to your spirit, the one that lights up your eyes has been missing.  The list of things to do weighs heavier on me than I like to admit.  Instead of breaking down, I have become numb.  I get through the day.  I try to laugh and enjoy my family each day.  I try to write and find progress on the long list of projects that people are waiting to get from me.  I try to somehow just maintain a semi clean home where my family has clothes to wear and something to eat.  The monotony of each day with the pressure to accomplish super human possibilities causes me to shut down so that I can keep pressing towards the goal.  I accomplish all these things, but they are done with heaviness in my heart and a worn look in my spirit.

My prayers seem rehearsed.

The Biblical teaching to my children when correcting or encouraging them feels empty.

My running in the morning that used to be filled with cries out to God for guidance and help are silent these days.  I don’t even know what to say.  I fill pages after pages with words for multiple projects and then I have none when I am left alone to share my heart with God.

All the things that I used to do to try to reconnect to my spirit aren't working.  Or I am too tired to really care to try.

It feels stale, and worn and tiring.

I used to believe that it was wrong to say such things, till I realized that at some point we all feel that way.  About our faith, our life, our relationships.  Trying to ignore it never works though.

But tonight, in the black hills of South Dakota, I breathed deep.  I breathed out and breathed in.

I was reminded that the very breath I have inside of me is the one God gave me directly.  It is his breath that gives us life.  And so even in the midst of feeling distant and cold and shut down, I am still connected to him and my spirit because I live.

Because I am alive, he is with me.

Even when I am running on empty, he does not leave me.  Every breath I take belongs to him.

I had peace in my soul for the first time in awhile remembering this truth.

I am not alone, nor am I lost.

He remains with me, even when I am over committed and underwhelmed.

He is also with you, in every breath you take.

The art of Collaboration

Some day I am going to craft a talk around collaboration.

There is something profound about working with someone and working to create something completely new out of who you are and who they are.  It isn't compromise where you each give up something to find a peaceful way.  Collaboration is about two people, giving 100% of who they are, doing the hard work of communicating to discover where their two thoughts and ideas come together to forge a new language.  That language for Henry and I is our speaking and writing together.  For others it can be music, spoken word, body art, dancing, gardening, cooking, community living, photography, leading an organization, it doesn't matter.

Collaboration is different than compromise.

What Henry and I strive to do in our work is absolute collaboration.  It is what I love and hate about our work.

(If you are new to my little world in blogsphere, then I should tell you that I am a stay at home mom who travels the country very part time as an inspirational speaker and am currently working on my first book with my speaking partner, Pastor Henry Graf.  Henry and I have been friends for a long time, and as two seasoned speakers, we wondered what having a conversational type presentation would look like from the stage.  This gives the audience a more authentic and personal interaction with the speakers and topic of discussion.  We have spoken together for years, and are currently trying our hand at moving what we do on stage, to the written word.  To say the very least, we are in a very steep learning curve.)

When we started working together, Henry and I were both professional speakers.  We were comfortable on stage and speaking in public.  We spent time crafting our work to be dynamic presenters.  Coming from a place of always taking the stage alone, it was so refreshing to share the responsibility with someone else.  Someone I trusted to fill in the blanks where I missed my mark, or read the audience and take our conversation where it needed to go to reach them where they were at.  I was no longer alone, and it felt very cool.

There was this really beautiful dynamic shift as well.  When I take the stage alone, I can get really intense and loud and passionate and sometimes emotional.  It's just kind of what I do.  Sometimes it involves yelling.  However, when you are sitting on stage with someone else, that doesn't tend to happen.  We are talking, discussing, laughing, searching scripture together.  It's very different, but very cool.

It felt like to me that I had found the perfect partner in this journey.  We balance each other out because we are so different.  Yes one is a man and one is a woman.  One is a Pastor and one struggles with the institution of the church.  But really, it reaches into the way we do life, not what we represent.  Henry is very analytical and intellectual, and those are not words I would use to describe myself.  He teaches, and I tell stories.  He thinks, I feel.  He moves fast, I am think before I act.  And even though we are both intense, somehow we are intense in very different ways, and I don't know how to describe that.  We bring such different things to the table for discussion, approach scripture from very different places and come away with very different ideas of what it means.  It makes for great conversation.

So imagine my surprise when just months ago, I realized that Henry and I weren't collaborating at all, but I was letting him take the lead and backing out of my responsibility to my own place in our partnership.

It was hard for me to figure this out until Henry and I spoke together three months ago.  We took the stage on Friday night at the conference kick off.  I experienced being on stage with Henry and he wasn't in his usual "loud/big self".  He felt more responsive than usual instead of charging the way.  When we debriefed our talk, he simply said, "you were the big personality tonight, so I backed off.  You usually aren't that dynamic."

Huh.  I didn't ever really think that I backed off and tampered my personality with him.  We chatted a bit more through that and continued on with our weekend.

Then, the book happened.  The book started off as a T-shirt idea that for the life of us, we couldn't agree on.    Then Henry had a brilliant idea that worked for us both.

Parables.  Earthly stories with Heavenly meaning.

We discussed the concept of the book, "telling stories, but more than stories, finding heavenly meaning in our everyday experiences, etc."  I loved it.  I thought it was a perfect first book for us.  It penned out on paper what we do on stage.  But the more we unpacked the book and gave a structure to it, the more confusing it got for me.  The harder and more complicated it became.

Henry would pen a thesis, a promotional email, a chapter outline.  He was working at lightening speed and it was hard to keep up.  I would read it, tweak it, process it, edit it, and send it back.

And something always felt just a little bit off.  I was still a part of the process.  My opinion mattered, but somehow, I was just responding, not speaking up.

And then I was standing in my kitchen, just getting off the phone with Henry, and I saw the red flags.  I saw myself shrinking back in my insecurities.  I was allowing my respect and admiration for Henry to shrink me.  When I elevated him, I became less.  I gave him the power and authority in the relationship instead of being in a partnership.  I let my old demons speak into my ear.  Lies that said my voice wasn't as significant as Henry's.  That storytelling was silly compared to teaching deep theological ideas.

I realized I wasn't owning my part in our partnership  I wasn't taking responsibility for my thoughts, my ideas, my voice and opinion.  I got steamrolled.  Henry wasn't doing this to me, I just let it take over.

What I realized was sometimes when we think we have overcome a weakness, a sin, it only reappears when pushed from a new angle.

I have worked alone for seven years, and now having a partner in this, this was a new angle for me.  And so my weakness and insecurities came flooding out.  I hated it.  I didn't know what to do with it.  I had moved past this.  I had conquered it.  I had surrendered it.

Or so I thought.

And then it brings us to last week when Henry showed up for a week of writing.  A week that we were going to use to make great head way with the book.

But I couldn't move forward because I wasn't ever fully present.

And so I showed up.  I really showed up and owned my voice, my opinions, my questions and my process.

We talked and processed a lot last week.

After we  processed our book, our ideas, our theologies, we talked some more.

Henry would push me to finish my thoughts.  To think through all the things I was trying to say but having a hard time articulating.  We dissected words that meant different things to each of us so that we could come to some kind of understanding.

We put our expectations for the week aside.  We sat uncomfortably the across from each other at the coffee shop and wrestled through our thoughts and opinions.

And at the end of the week, we came away with a books that feels like a conversation.  A new language of Henry's ideas and my thoughts.

We collaborated and found a book that speaks a new language that we took the time to understand and create.

Collaboration is not just hard work, its uncomfortable.  It is looking at your partner in the project and realizing that for you to say what you really think, you run the risk of them leaving.  You run the risk of them leaving project because they are done doing the hard work to find a new way.

It's risky and scary and vulnerable.  It feels exposed and in the end, the risk is worth it.

Writing a book on my own will probably be easier.  However, Henry pushes me to find myself.  To learn my process and understand my thoughts.  I have discovered so much about myself in the last couple months.  I have learned what it means to not have a boss or work alone, but to partner with someone and have them stay because they value you.

At the very least, God is using this experience to shape me.  To shape Henry.  To shape a new idea within us.  It's exciting.

It's tiring.

It's totally worth it.

Collaboration.  You need to be 100% yourself in order to have the conversation to create a new way.  To acknowledge who you are in order to give yourself to the expression of art in a new way.

Personal update 2: the cabin

The cabin.

The writing retreat.

I had hope that with more than 24 hours to myself, my laptop and journals and music, I could somehow process all the things going on inside of me for the last month and pour myself into the book.  Read, journal, write, process, pray, seek, and be led by God.

I have never had time like this before to work and to be honest, I was a little nervous with that much time by myself.

Can't you tell?

I want to share some things I came away with from the weekend, but first, I want you to see what I saw.  Here is my office set up.

This really was the perfect office.  Curled up on a couch, writing and reading and candles lit.  It was perfect.

This was my retreat view from where I sat.  It hailed most of the day, but by late afternoon, I got to out and take a walk.

I enjoyed light food and lots of coffee all day long.  I grazed, and when I was hungry, I ate, and yes I even drank coffee at 10 pm.  There were no rules.  The goal was to be inspired and find dreams and plans and words for the book.  It was perfect!  It was a day where I could go at a slower pace because I didn't have kids interrupting me every few minutes, or I wasn't restricted by a time frame surrounding naps or babysitters.  I could just be.

And then I took a refreshing walk to get all the pent up energy out of my blood.  I wanted to take this photo, because I stood in this spot for more than 15 minutes.  I stood and looked at the road stretched out before me.  I let the sounds of the lake and the country seep into my blood.  Sounds that are foreign to us where we live.  It felt like with every breath I took, more of the tension left my body, and more quietness and stillness entered it.  All the expectations started to cease to exist and only listening to the Lord seemed to matter.  I didn't want to move.  I wanted to stay in that spot until the only thing that remained were the answers.  But looking at the road ahead of me, I realized  I wasn't sure where the road led, but only the way to find out was to take one step at a time.

After my walk, I spent the evening wrapped in a blanket on the porch enjoying my new office.  A place full of peace and inspiration. 

So here is what I learned and discovered with my weekend in the wood.

1. I really enjoy time by myself.  I am good company.

2. You produce very different work when you aren't restricted by a time frame or deadline or children's needs.  I had the ability to really let the work come out of me, instead of rushing it, or throwing a bunch of words on paper hoping it sticks.  I could sit and ponder, and roll thoughts around my head and get the good stuff out on paper.  It was this amazing experience no to be rushed, but let thoughts and ideas and words formulate.

3. I got to work on my business, the book, my talk at the end of the month up in Duluth, my talk in the NE this fall, and my business concepst.  I had papers all over the floor with ideas and concepts and dreams and starting points for ministry.  It was this really amazing brainstorming session where I got to share my dreams with God, lay them out in front of me, and as I sat and prayed, I got hints of more ways to make them become a reality.

4. It is scary as hell to sit there in a cabin, all alone, with the time you have been asking for to make the dream come true, even one that you don't fully understand, and you have no more excuses.  I had no excuses.  I had to face my fear of this dream, the overwhelmingness of it.  I got to settle into those feelings.  Experience them.  I got to embrace it.  Look at it.  Evaluate it.  And most importantly, work towards. it.  It's easy to dream.  It takes a lot to actually work for it.

5. The closer I drove to the cabin, the more peace I felt.  While at the cabin, I felt inspired, I felt encouraged, I felt rested, I felt motivated, and I felt calm.  I'll confess I even danced a little bit with the music blaring and it felt wonderful.  I felt free.  And the words just came out of me.  I wrote a bunch of stuff I didn't even know I was thinking.  I wrote it, I looked at it, and I pondered on it.  I am excited to read what was going on in my head and my heart.  To process it and explore it.

It makes me very excited for my future.  As I said, I have felt like I am on the brink on something new and different.  This weekend was this incredible time of exploring that.  Of dreaming around it.  Of finding clues to what my future holds.

And I can't wait to share it with you.

I also walked away from this weekend with a secret love affair for a weekend away alone in the woods.  This may become my most spiritual exercise.  I hope.

Inspiration breeds inspiration

I had mentioned either here or in person how in our home we try to read scripture together every morning.  We do that not because we feel we have to, or because this is what good Christian's do.  Honestly we do it because of our philosophy of Big Picture Parenting.  We believe that as our children leave our home every morning and attend school, we want the word of God in their heart.  We want them to know scripture, to feel comfortable searching God's word for insight into his heart and to really know what God says about life and love.  To really know God and not just what people say about him.

Then I went and had a play date with a friend of mine a couple months ago.  As we were sitting in her kitchen, she had index cards covering her walls with scripture written on them.  As I took a closer look, she had the first couple dozen chapters of Proverbs up.

I fell in love.

I asked her what was going on with all the proverbs posted on her wall and her response was, "I got the idea from you."

I had a look of total confusion.  We have never done anything like this, so it didn't really feel like my idea.  "I don't get it" was my response.

She told me that she appreciated how much we were trying to create a love of God and his word in our children.  She said as her and her husband were trying to raise up their kids, they wanted God's wisdom strong in their mind and in their heart.  

I Love it!!!

See, I pray for God's wisdom over my children almost as much as I cook their meals.  These young boys and girl are faced with choices every day about who they are, who they are going to be, and what they stand for.  Choices of fitting in, going along with the crowd, sticking up for the kid getting picked on, helping someone in need, it will never end.  I want them filled with the knowledge of God's love and his desire for their life.

So instead of just praying wisdom over my kids, this felt like the perfect compliment to put it in their hearts.

The proverbs are also an easy way to find just a couple of verses to read in the morning.  A couple verses read, then discussed leaves us with a perfect small 5-10 min devotion.  It has sparked such great conversations and questions from the kids, and having them written down, on days when we don't have time for a new one, we can pick one off the door and read it again.

The other great benefit of having it written down and up where we can see all the time, is I can stop and read encouragement every time I  need it.

The best part of all this...

I shared a desire of my heart and a small tradition that I do with my kids.  Another mother took that idea and made it her own.  I saw what she did and she inspired me to follow suit and take it another step further.

This is the best part of living life publicly   The way our hearts, our desires, our traditions can inspire others and in turn, we can be inspired by them.

Thank you Jessica!

How does one move past the fear?

This morning I woke up to the sound of my son coming in to my room, hugging me and saying, "I am so glad you are alive mama.  I am so glad you are alive!"

I looked at him and said, "Oh honey, of course I am alive.  Is everything OK?"

That's when Big told me that last night they woke up to gun shots ringing in the front yard.  They ran out to get Paul, thinking we were being attacked.  Paul had already flipped the light switches off and was ducking down to see a group of teenagers breaking off in pairs from our front yard after shooting a couple rounds off into black sky.  They clung to their dad hoping he could make it better.  After calling the police, he tucked the kids back into bed and sang over them.

This morning, their fear for me and for them was all they could talk about.  I was writing at the coffee shop like I do every Tuesday night.  I wasn't home, and so in their young minds, I was at risk out there with the bad guys.  They were out there and I was out there, not safely at home.

As each of my kids came into my room this morning, all hugging me tight, thankful for my safety, my heart physically hurt for how to help them navigate through this.  I wasn't sure how to do that.

I can't give them promises that I will always be there for them.  Because I won't.

I can't tell them that nothing bad will happen to me.  Because I don't know.

So what can I give them?

First off, this is not a story of living in the hood.  This story isn't shared to get you to feel bad for us.  It's not a  story to gain attention or have some weird twisted story to brag about.  This story speaks to what we do with the fear our children have.  All kids have a fear of something.  Fear of fitting in.  Fear of being embarrased.  Fear of talking to strangers.  Fear their parents will split up.  Fear there is something wrong with them.  So the question then is, what do you do with that fear?

Second, as parents, I think it is very tempting to use our status in our children's lives to turn into the ultimate power.  If you have a wound, I will make it better.  If someone hurt you, I will go take care of it.  If you have a need, I will fill it.  It is nice to be needed and have someone rely on you.  To be the hero.  The one who saves the day.

But in the end, what good does it do to have our children put all of their trust in us?  In a human being who will fall short, mess up and disappoint them?

Paul and I have as much as possible, whenever possible, try to point our children to the one who will not fail them.  To the one who will ultimately heal and help them.  It is our goal as parents to teach our kids to reach out to God in times of trouble, pain and joy.  This is not without trying our hardest to be there for our children, to help whenever it is right.  But we can't desire to be their ultimate power in life.

So each morning, we try, at breakfast to institute, "Feed your body, feed your soul."  This is a time where we read a few verses in the morning to make sure that the word of God is in our children's hearts.  Lately, we have been reading through the proverbs.  But this morning I knew it was different and we would need a different kind of comfort and healing.  So we read Romans 8:31+

"What then shall we say in response to this?   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.  For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

In reading this, it also brought to mind the verse that says, "perfect love drives out fear" which I think is 1 John.

God's love can drive out our fear and demons and insecurities.

I wanted my kids to walk away not living in fear.  Not overcome with worry about who might get shot and killed in our yard.  We are still trying to convince them that we won't die every time a thunderstorm hits in the middle of the night.  Two years later, Big and Little will still crawl into our bed trembling that we will die when the thunder hits waking them up in the darkness of night.

It is my belief that fear, left in our heart will create a foothold for Satan to tear us down and keep us from thriving in life.  When a small amount fear or doubt is left in your heart, the only thing it has the power to do is grow.  It gains strength every time we experience something that reminds us of that fear.  Then eventually, it will keep us fearful and unable to take chances, to trust, and to love.

So in this round about way, as parents, and just as people ourselves, the way to not live in fear is to cling to the one who has the power enough to love us out of the fearful place.  To admit that fear.  Surrender it.  Lay it down.  Give it over.  Try to learn to trust a little bit more every day.

This morning we prayed after reading scripture together.  We prayed that we could rest in God's love.  We prayed that Satan wouldn't have a hold on our hearts in the fear we have about how scary the guns were.  We prayed that God could create trust in our hearts.  We prayed that his words we read would strengthen our faith and allow us live in HOPE that God, no matter what, will work all things to his glory.

We don't know what that means exactly.  We don't really know what that looks like.  I do know though that I could tell a difference in their smiles this morning.  I am hoping that teaching them to give over their fear and worry and weakness, that they will start to cling on their own to a relationship with Christ.

He is much better savior than me.

And in the end, I have lived most of my life in fear.  I would like to find a way to help my children live in love and courage by showing them how to surrender over the fear.

When you are weary of the battle

I don't know about you, but I grow weary and tired of how hard it is to fight for what you want in life.  To battle all the things that threaten to take away your values and priorities and hope.

Everything the last few days has grated on my emotions.  Feelings that felt raw and ready to explode for reasons I couldn't figure out.

I knew I was tired.

I knew I felt worn down.

I knew I felt like I wanted to give up, sit on my couch, eat ice cream and pop corn and drink wine and iced coffee.  Snuggle under a blanket and just read a silly book or watch TV all day.

I was tired of battling the kids, myself, our neighborhood, our budget, my time, the book...well everything, and I craved relief.

I wanted relief from all the intentionality that we try to live in.

I wanted a break from all the rules and guidelines.

When talking with Paul this afternoon about why, "Why are we so easily frustrated and cranky, and so ready to give up?"  We realized it was because we are always fighting.

We are fighting for our kids faith in God.  We battle to find the time to invest in devotions, conversations, intentional time dedicated to exploring faith and what it means to believe in God in their world today.

We are fighting for our marriage.  We work hard on finding time to be together, trying to use communication that builds us up instead of tearing us down.  We evaluate all the time, what do you need to be OK?  How can I support you?  How can I love you during this hard time?  We are working hard on putting the needs of our spouse before our own.  To see the love of your life through the eyes of Christ.  To keep the spark alive.  To turn young love into something deep and rich and powerful that still contains magic and spark.

We are fighting for our safety.  How can we live in a place of trusting God to be enough and not living in fear, while still being safe in the choices we make?  Not making judgements on the kids walking around our neighborhood.  Not assuming that every person sitting in their car is there waiting on trouble, or that every person who knocks on our door is wanting to break in when we leave.  Our families safety is always, constantly present first and foremost in our mind.  We are always prepped for battle when it comes to our safety.

We are fighting for our money.  Money has a way of just disappearing and we are fighting to keep ours.  We are always aware of what we are spending, and fighting to keep money in our pocket so that we can be free from debt.

We are fighting for our own dream and for the dreams of our spouse.  Paul and I are both filled with ambition and determination and our greatest desire is to fulfill God's desire for our life.   It's hard in the mundane, every day chores and hurdles to fight for something bigger.  Something grand.  Something special that lives in your heart.  You have everyday choices that you have to weigh against the grand scheme of things.  This is one of the hardest things to fight for everyday.

When we intentionally live out our lives, it means we have evaluated and prayed and come to a set of standards of how we live our life.  How do we spend our time, our money, our resources?  Do these things hold up to the priorities and values that we live by?

But that also means that we just don't live caressly anymore.   Everything we do at that point means something.

Most often however, if you have taken the time to evaluate your life and have decided to live by certain standards, those standards will grate against the lifestyles around you.  When that happens, what do you  do?

We have a choice to give up on our standards and value of living, or we fight.

We try to have a family meeting every week so that we can take stock of our resources and time and money as we evaluate all the options that we face every week that want our time, our money and our energy.

And so we choose to fight.

But you can't fight every moment of every day.  Some days, when the battle becomes too much and it tears down your spirit, you need to take a break.  You need to sit and pray and release control back to the creator who loves you.  You need to remember that God is still God and we are just one person in one moment in time.

And so we surrendered.  Not to our ideals and priorities, but to the God in charge of those ideals and priorities.  And in that surrender, it gives us strength to keep fighting.

Who I am instead of who I want to be

I called up a friend the other day, one whom I haven't spoken to in awhile and we were casually chatting.  As with any conversation it was basic and going through the routines.

How is life?  The kids?  School?  The job hunt?  On and on and on.

It was fine.

It was comfortable.

It was socially normal and expected.

Then she asked about the book.

So a couple things went through my mind.  The first thing I said was, 

"It's fine.  It's going good.  Hard to write and find the time."  

And with all those things being truthful, I still wasn't revealing the true matter on my heart.

I was scared and spending far too much time caring about what other people thought.  I was worried that people won't like it, or they won't support it.  I hadn't prayed over it in awhile and had taken total control of the matter back in my own hands.

I know my friend would understand this truth.  I know she would pray with me and encourage me.  That wasn't the issue.

The truth is, I didn't want the be the girl who was struggling.  I didn't want to be the girl who had slipped in her faith and started to do it all on her own.  I didn't want to be the girl who had to learn a lesson, who after years of overcoming her insecurity, was feeling more insecure than ever before.

I wanted to be the girl who was doing it right.  Who didn't fall into temptation of making this book about me.  I wanted to be the girl who surrendered her will to God every morning, prayed without ceasing over her work, created good habits to make it happen and could do it all.  Doesn't that sound great?  It sounds like a wonderful story of great faith and spiritual leading.  I wanted that story.  I wanted to for once in my life do it the right way.  

But that wasn't what was happening.

And so, in a moment of feeling brave and wanting to be honest, I said what was true.  I decided not to be who I wanted to be, but who I really was instead.

"The book is going well, but I have noticed lately that I am far too scared about what others think.  My mind seems overrun with thoughts of feeling less than I am.  I am scared that someone else could do it better.  I worry that it will fail.  I get nervous thinking about how others will value the quality."

There. 

I had said it out loud.  The dark things that were crowding my brain.  The hard things that were taking away my faith.  After I say them out loud, I have to own that they are true.

To this, my friend encouraged me in my dream.  She filled my heart with kind and encouraging words. And then she said, "You need to read the book of Joshua.  Joshua is filled with courage and trusting God, and that is what you are doing.  You are doing something courageous and your ability to trust in God is the only thing that will carry you through.  Read Joshua and find comfort and truth in what you are doing."

All my tension and worry went away.  

This, right here, is why we are writing a book.

This is what the book is about.

In the midst of even our struggle and weak faith, and total control issues, God is still present and working.  When we are capable of taking off our expectations and ideals, and can be real with the people around us, God's truth becomes clear.  Friends, mentors, blogs, pastors, scripture, podcast, whatever and whenever you find it, truth can be revealed.

I was reminded that day to be honest.  It does no one any good to pretend to be something they are not. My honesty encouraged my friend, and she was able to encourage me as well.  She spoke encouragement and pointed me toward truth to heal my wound, my insecurity, and my weakness.

If I haven't told you yet here, I am telling you now.

My friend Henry and I are writing a book about stories.  Stories we live every day that hold deep spiritual truths.  These stories are used in communicating about our faith with others.  These stores enrich and encourage others.  These stories point towards heaven.  These stories bring heaven to earth.  They nurture love and forgiveness and God's ultimate power and goodness.  There is power in the stories we live here on earth.

We would love to share this project with you.  Henry and I are interested in making this a community project.  If you are interested in pre ordering this book and supporting the writing process, please donate to our campaign at  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/more-than-a-story/x/2561912.

If you are interested in knowing more about the project after the funds are raised, during the writing project, please visit our website www.pearabull.com or like us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mightier-Press/301285753332675?ref=hl 

I am excited about this book.  I am also really excited about all the ways is shaping my heart and creating a deeper trust in him in regards to all the stories of my life.  Thank you for being apart of this journey.  Thank you for showing up and walking through life with us. 

Be blessed friends. 

How much is too much?

I needed to shovel the snow for the third day in a row yesterday.  Little and I came home and I went to work.  Then I remembered that we have neighbors who live three houses down whose dad is out of town for the next two weeks.  So its just the mom, who works full time, the grandma and the 2 year old daughter.  It sure would be kind if I could help out and do this one small chore for them so them so they wouldn't have to do it and bear the cold and risk slipping on the ice.  Easy right?  Shovel your neighbors walk, 15 min, done.

A confession is that I don't usually think about helping my neighbors and shoveling their walks.  Sad, but true.  I just go about my business and do my own thing, get my work done and then move onto the next thing on my list .  But this past Saturday, middle came out to help me shovel and I thought this was a good activity to help teach him how we can help people in all sorts of ways, even on our own block.  (Sad that I often will only think of helping others when I know it will help me teach my kids about compassion.  Man I have a long way to go in understanding a full change of heart.)

So we shoveled their walk two days ago.  Now I am out there shoveling again, and I think to myself, no one is here to see me or learn from me.  Why aren't I shoveling their walk again?  OK, so I will go and shovel their walk.  But in order to get to their home, I need to pass my immediate neighbors.  My immediate neighbors who I have lived next door to for 10 years and I have never once shoveled their walk.  They don't speak English, but we have lived peacefully, watching our kids playing together for years.  The grandma has helped me weed my garden and we have shared plates of food with one another every time a baby is born in either home.

Would I really walk past their snowy sidewalk and not help out?  They have 15 people who live in that house.  Many capable people who could shovel.  But just because they can shovel their own walk, doesn't mean I couldn't show kindness to even them.  So I just kept shoveling.

The house after that is our neighbor who I struggle with.  Their little boy who is hard for me to love, but God challenges daily in the summer months that kids act out for a reason.  And he has his reasons.  Two years ago while holding Little, we got ran down by the S.W.A.T. team as they busted down this neighbor's door looking for a stolen weapon.  Then we watched the little boy who watched his dad and his uncles hurl curse words and slander while they cleaned up glass from the broken door and window.  Things are hard at that house.  Are they not worthy of kindness?  Would a kind act show this family compassion and a little bit of joy?  So I just kept shoveling.

Now the house between the family I just told you about, and the mother with her husband gone has been abandoned since the tornado.  It sits, neglected, all doors and windows boarded up.  We thought the city might own it, but a few weeks ago a couple guys came and cleaned the house out.  Now it sits with a For Sale sign on the lawn.  I'm not gonna lie.  We all loved when this family left.  They were really hard to love.  There were all sorts of shady things happening in that house.  Cops were a regular there, and a few years back they received a lot of attention of shooting and killing their dog in the basement.  But mostly, it really bothered me the way the oldest son talked to his little brother.  The way he would interact with him.  You knew bad stuff was happening there.  ANYWAY, it is one abandon house that sits between all my shoveled walk, and the house I am trying to get to.  So I shoveled.  I don't know if anyone was going to come and shovel.  I doubt it.  And I thought of all the people who would walk the sidewalk getting to the bus or to work, and I thought about the mailman.  So I shoveled it for them.  Then I shoveled our friends walk.

As I was shoveling, I thought about all the things I had just written about.

The family who is capable and has lots of people to shovel.
The family, who for honesty sake, kind of scare me.
The empty home with no family, but so many past mistakes.
The family in need.

I was placing judgments on who was worth my time and kindness.  Who REALLY needs help?  Those are the people we help right?

Being in the tornado almost two years ago really has changed me.  Like never before, was God's call for us to simply live out our lives, loving the people around us mean as much to me as it did after that experience.  No kindness goes unnoticed, because in every act of kindness, there is love, and where there is love, God is present.

Well, after I was done shoveling, I noticed that all I did was reveal all the Ice underneath the snow.  And my first thought was, "Grap!  For real?!"  So I went into our home and got our bag of salt, selfishly thinking to myself, "Now I have to go and buy more salt because I am going to use it all up and I wasn't planning on spending money on this, and Paul is just going to love that I am salting the walk of crack house.  He's gonna love me for this."  But, come on, really, it would be a terrible thing for me to shovel, only to reveal ice and then let someone slip.  I love the way God just keeps pushing me further.  "Just give a little bit more Dani.  Give till you can feel the pain of letting go of your stuff, your money, your time for someone else.  I want you to feel giving, not just be a convenient giver, because that is really no servant heart at all."

So I salted everyone's walk.  I knew it was right.  I knew God was teaching me in this moment and shaping my heart to look a little more like his, and I am thankful for that, really.  So I didn't say anything to my neighbors or to my kids.  This was just about serving and loving the people around me.  Truthfully, I'm not sure they would know we are Christians by the way we live.  I mean, we go to church, and we talk about kindness here and they know we are believers, but that's only because they've asked.  I am ashamed by how little I have done to serve the people right here on my street.  This. This is why God is shaping my heart.  To make me less selfish, and I am thankful for that.

This morning I had a wonderful devotion/prayer time before the kids got up.  I went to the kitchen and started my routine.  Then big woke up and when we looked out the window he saw it had snowed again.  AGAIN!  Four days in a row.  He said, "mom, I think we should serve our friend by shoveling her walk again.  I mean you could do it." And that is when I rolled my eyes.

SERIOUSLY GOD?!!!  FOUR DAYS IN A ROW YOU WANT ME TO SHOVEL HALF A CITY BLOCK AND SALT IT?

Yes all the shouty capitals were in my head.  And then a quiet understanding came to me.

When are we done serving?

When ever is it enough to stop giving?

Where is the line for not loving your neighbor?

So my heart got worked on a little bit more today.  My understanding of faith, love, serving, obedience and God got a little bit richer today as yes, I did shovel everyone's walk again today.

And maybe, just maybe, I'm a little less selfish today, and little bit more focused on God.

(But then secretly I tell myself, you have to really get it today, otherwise it will snow again tomorrow Daniel-son.  I think God might just be Mr. Miyagi.)

So yes, this girl still has a lot to learn.

Just Show Up

"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed" - Mark 1:35

I think devotions are extremely important, and yet I think many of us are scared of them.  I know I used to be.  I thought every devotion needed to have this earth shattering moment where God spoke directly to me and my world would be changed.  That my heart would be full and I would walk away renewed and in touch with my soul.   But then there is the question of "what to do for devotions?"  Pray? Journal? Read?  But read what? The Bible? A book? What book?  Of Poetry .short stories with meaning...a chapter in the Bible, but then where do I start with that?  Good grief, it's just easier to ignore it all together.

I think Satan speaks these things into our Spirit to keep us from even trying.  We come to a devotion/quiet/ meditation time with expectations.  We hear people speak of how God is changing them, speaking to them, revealing things to them.  We show up once, it doesn't happen, and it becomes harder the next time to be as open, be as vulnerable.  We show up again and we read text but it doesn't really get down into our soul. (and then there is the issue of being terrified of what God might reveal to us, or what we might see in our own souls that we don't want to see and will have to confront.)

I can't believe I am actually going to say this, but because I hear Tony Horton's voice every day in this house, (God bless my husband for his dedication to his health and workouts), I am going to repeat what he tells his clients,

SHOW UP.  JUST SHOW UP.

You don't always feel like it.  You may suck at it some days.  You may feel nothing some days, but you have to show up.

SHOW UP

I had a friend who decided to just show up to silence every morning for 30 minutes.  She wasn't sure what she was doing.  She wasn't sure if she was going to think on a passage, or say something, or wait.  She didn't know, but what she knew is she needed to show up.  If she kept showing up then something was going to happen.

There is no right way to do devotions.  Over our last Sabbath, I read all of C.S. Lewis' "The Great Divorce" I never opened my Bible or prayed.  But I read a book on spiritual matters.  My soul was stirred and my heart was full of new thoughts regarding God and his love for me.  That was my devotion time.  It was refreshing because there are so many days where I read the proverbs or the Psalms or Hebrews and...there's just nothing.  I don't know what I am supposed to be hearing or learning.  Nothing jumps off the page at me and grabs me.  I read.  I close the book, and then I'm done.  It was nice to feel something after doing a devotion.

We have to acknowledge that there is a lie here that says that devotions have to be hard, complicated, intimidating, long, life changing.  Most devotions/quiet times/meditations are just showing up.  Because something beautiful happens in the showing up.  When we consistently show up, we change our habits to include a greater force than ourselves.  We train our brains to remember that we are not alone and are under a higher authority.  It forces us to remember that God is there.  We are not alone.  God is there.  When we show up it creates space for God to be God.  When we show up we will slowly chip away at our independence and fear and control issues and slowly and gently God will take them from us and replace them with his compassion, forgiveness and love.

JUST SHOW UP.

Doesn't matter what you start with.  Doesn't matter how terrible your prayer is.  (I love to pray. I like to pray more than I like to read the Bible.  I like to pray more than I like to listen to God's answer.  Some would say they like listening to me pray.  But in devotion time, my prayers are horrible.  They are scattered, they are confusing, they are distracted.  They are jumpy, meaning they go from something very real and deep to something like, "please God help me not to forget that my son needs a special treat today."  A lot of times, my prayers are begging God to help me stay focused.  I struggle with saying the things I think I am supposed to say and what I really want to say.  They usually end up being both, just in case.)

Devotions can be short to get started.  Devotions can be listening to a song with a strong spiritual meaning.  It could be reading a book that teaches you or encourages you in spiritual matters.  It could be a Bible Study.  It could be a Portals of Prayer, which I've actually never read before.  huh.  It could be prayer.  It could be journaling.  Doesn't matter, just show up.  God still shows up, so you won't be alone.

Start where you need to start to have success.  If that means 15 min. three days a week, then start there.  Start in a realistic place where you will have success and be encouraged to get to the place you want to be.  Remember, there is no right or wrong in this.

But let's be honest here.  If we aren't spending time re plugging into our spiritual source, how can we expect our faith to flourish?  How can we be strong and courageous if we aren't doing anything to strengthen it?  Our Christian faith is like any other living thing.  It needs to be fed and strengthened, otherwise, it withers and dies.

I wish I was better at devotions on a daily basis.  A lot of times I am so exhausted from staying up late trying to do too many things.  This last Sabbath was a big reminder to me how important taking time out, making it a priority is.  Taking time to learn from the one who made me.  Feeling my soul shine a little brighter, feel a little more alive, a little more real and full.  And to learn a little bit more about the one who loves me.  To challenge my preconceived ideas and stretch my understanding.

I need to remember...Just show up.

It's not about how to do devotions.

It's about why we do devotions.

Inner dialog: The cycle of dysfunction

I wasn't going to continue on my last post, but my post about raising my daughter led to a wonderful long conversation with my grandmother.  A conversation that shed some more light into the things I was trying to communicate in the previous post.

I sounded pretty terrified and insecure in my previous post, and all those things I said were true, sometimes are still true.  But what I realized is how much God has healed me from so much of that fear.  It used to be, if anyone ever paid me a compliment, I quickly pass it off to having pulled off a fun outfit.  All my confidence and beauty rested in how thin I was and how great my outfit was; my superficial appearance.  My acceptance never went any deeper than how I appeared to others.  I say with confidence now, how God has used the last couple years to slowly reveal my inner self to me in a way that I see and love because it is the me he has transformed.  I now believe that I am lovable even on my bad days, (sometimes believing that is still really hard), but that I still deserve love because God has claimed me and has transformed me.  My worth doesn't come from how much I get done, how great my kids behave, or my fantastic closet, though that is my favorite part.  I am the same me on good and bad days.  I am normal.  I am loved.  I am a creation designed by the creator.  I won't ever be anybody else, and I am more OK with that than ever before.  I like me now.  I'm still not proud of my behavior most days, but I understand that mistakes are a part of life, and God is still working in me.  I still don't shower for days, yell at my kids when I am tired and immediately regret it.  I waste days on TV sometimes and get down on myself for not being more than I want to be.  I am proud, and selfish, and angry still, but I am also forgiven, redeemed, selfless, and giving too.  I am a strong combination of good and broken.  I am human.  But I am me, and I kind of like me, because God has placed good in me, he has placed his Spirit in me.

I would like to pass that Spirit filled confidence onto my daughter.  I would like her to see in me a woman who seeks God in all she does.  A woman who tries to love others as best she can.  A mom who did her best and rejoiced over her children.  I would like her to see a REAL woman who accepts who she is and lives her life to God's glory.  I want to give her that.

What I don't want to give her is a negative inner dialog.  I don't want the bad things I say about myself to be her guidelines for what a woman should be.  If she hears me always angrily calling myself fat, than she will understand that 1. her mom doesn't like herself, and 2. that the measurement for fat, is the weight her mother is at and apparently that is a bad thing.  Now I'm not overweight, but if she hears me saying I'm fat, than she must remain thinner than me to NOT be fat And if I don't like myself, what does that say to the child who looks up to me?  This is very confusing to a child who thinks the world of her mom, the person who outweighs everyone else on the planet.  No one is better than mom, at least for awhile. And what does that say, when your favorite person doesn't like herself?  Cuts herself down, and disregards the child's compliments that they are beautiful?

If someone pays me a compliment, and my immediate response is, "Oh no, I don't have any make up on, my hair is a mess and I'm in sweats.  I look terrible."  This inadvertently communicates to her that in order to be beautiful, I need to be put together.  I need make up, I need my hair done and I need to dressed in a fun get up.

Why are so many of us women are always cutting ourselves down so easily?  We are so incredibly harsh on ourselves.  Why is it so impossible to see the beauty in ourselves?  Because the thing is, we are the measuring stick by which our children will understanding beauty and confidence and self acceptance.  In the way we talk about ourselves, we are giving them their inner dialog.

So, my children will never hear me call myself fat.  EVER.  Even if I feel it, I have never said these words in front of them.  One time Big heard me say, "oh man these jeans are getting tight, I have put on some weight."  His immediate response was, "Mom you are NOT FAT!"  I said without hesitation, "You are right, I am not fat, however, I probably shouldn't be eating two desserts a day and sneaking one as a snack.  It's not healthy, and not fitting in my jeans is a good indicator that I should stop."

My children won't ever hear me criticize myself in a photo.  Doesn't matter if the camera added 10lbs, or if it was a bad angle, the photo was there to capture a memory. I don't want them hearing me care more about my looks and cutting myself down, than I do about the fun moment that photo captured.

When I get dressed up to go out, I have decided to use the word fun when asking how an outfit works.  "Is this outfit fun?  Does it match?  Would different shoes be better?"  This may sound really silly, but the last thing I want to hear or have them understand is that the outfit makes me beautiful.  The outfit may be beautiful, I may be beautiful in it, but what I am wearing, in the end does not make or break me.  The beauty is in my confidence.  The beauty is in how I treat people.  The beauty is in how love lives in my life.

I try to take captive every negative thought about my looks before they leave my mouth.  This way, in every way possible, they don't have a mother who cares most about the way she doesn't like they way she looks.  However, in my behavior, my children always hear my repentance and prayer for God's strength to do better, so that there is more love in our house than anger or frustration.  I want the comments they hear me say about myself always to reflect my character, not my looks.  I hope they understand in this, that character and spirit are far more important to work on than the way we look.  (with all obvious health issues aside, this is purely cosmetic talk here.)

You may think all of this is a bit over the top, but I don't care.  For as long as I can remember, I only had negative inner dialog.  Do you know how hard it is to change your entire mindset?  It's taken me awhile, and I would like to save my daughter as much of that pain as possible.  Your inner dialog about yourself COMPLETELY effects the way you interact with other people.  Your partner.  Your family.  Your co-workers.  Your friends.  Your neighbors.  And the way we see ourselves, talk about ourselves, becomes our children inner dialog, their frame work of how to understand who they are.

Don't get me wrong, I still struggle with some of these things.  It's hard to live one way your entire life, and then try to think completely different.  It takes time, but God is faithful, and he has worked miracles in my heart already in this.

God is bigger than all of this, and heals every kind of pain and issue, but can't we participate in ending the cycle?  Helping give them a healthy self awareness?  A love for themselves because they are created by God?  This is what I want to give my daughter.  I used be very afraid that I couldn't overcome my own demons and create a healthy inner dialog for myself to ensure that I could give her one too.  But God is good, and he has done wonders in the dark places of my head.

And in the end, when I read this, its not even at all about the way we look.  It's about who we are.  .

The roots underground

It's confession time.

There are quite a few things that come easy to me, and because these things come easy to me, I continue to do them, because then, *gasp*, I don't have to try very hard.  It's called shallow work.  (As I write this, I realize I am reflecting a lot on my speaking career.)

Math was a lot like this growing up.  I loved it and was good at it, until I wasn't.  Then I stopped taking elective math classes.  It became too hard.  I didn't want to have to work at because I had already gotten into AP math and that was already really good.  If I stopped then, I would always be a little better than average.

Putting only enough effort into life to stand out just enough to be noticed is really no way to live.  And yet, that is what I would do.  I like to do what I am good at, or what comes easy, and leave the rest behind.  I also think that being a product of an instant, immediate culture has played its role in creating this habit within my work ethic.  This year I started to really see that in myself.  I didn't like it.  I saw myself scattered with shallow work.  Shallow work that was good enough to impress people and reach them, but was never my best. 

(The above paragraph speaks to the fact that I can easily rise to the challenge of what I know a speaker looks like and sounds like, but is what I am giving people the voice God gave me?  Do I do what I do because it's what I have seen others do, or is what I give people the voice I have searched God and myself for?  I haven't taken that deep prayerful journey that includes challenging myself and giving God total control over my ministry.  If I end up in the same spot, it will be worlds richer because I took the long introspective road to find myself there, instead of just being there because I think I should be or because I don't know where else to be.)

I was throwing my efforts wide and trying to do a lot.  This effort resulted in me really being unhappy with what I was giving people.  My husband, my children, my friends, my audience, my ministry to Haiti.  I think I got addicted to the rush. To always moving and being involved and needed.  I always needed to be doing something. I was addicted to the fun of always changing directions.  To sounding busy and effective and giving the impression like I could do it all.  And it was fun.  And I was doing a lot, but none of it to its full potential.  It prevented me from every really being alone and knowing how to manage my time. If I was busy, then I didn't have to be alone and face myself, or my decisions, or my consequences.  If you remain busy and active, then there is less time to sit and dwell and create. To grow roots.  To dig deep.  To purge secrets and dark places.  To confess and face demons and be free.  The only thing you have time for is survival.

Well, I have time now and it scares me.  I have the time to dig deep.  I have the time to develop the root system to the things I am passionate about.  I used to come home from speaking at an event where incredible things happened and Paul would ask me how it went.  I would shrug and respond, "Good I guess, it just wasn't what it could be."  I wasn't really content or satisfied with what I was producing.  I knew it could be richer.  It all had so much potential.  Potential I wasn't allowing because I wasn't taking the time to walk the long road.  Time to peel back the layers of shallowness and get deeper and richer with my content, with my vulnerabilities   Taking an hour at a time to pray over one issue.  To seek God deeply about his design for my next stage, my next step in life.  The direction for my speaking career.

Well, I have started to walk the road in the last couple weeks.  Walking the lonely road of lots of reading.  Walking the long road of hours of researching and being richer for it, but having nothing to show for it.  I wash the dishes, and I have something to show for my efforts.  I write a blog and I have something to show for my time.  Growing deep roots, roots that are grounded in time, in effort, in creativity, in research, in prayer, in study, doesn't produce immediate fruit.  It's like my raspberry bushes.  They don't produce fruit until a couple years after you first plant them.  Are you kidding me?  That's torturer to me!  I can't believe I have to wait that long!  And yet, this is what I dream for with my ministry.

All of this continues to reveal how deeply rooted my identity is wrapped up in what I can accomplish.  If you know me at all, this comes as no surprise, but every time I think I have cleaned out that dark place, there is always something else to reveal that it goes just a little deeper.  I hate admitting this.  I  hate how elementary it sounds that I would struggle to know to know who I really am and where my worth and value comes from.  But even elementary, this dark lie seeps into so much of what our culture feeds us.

Being alone most days is hard for me.  It makes me feel invisible, and apparently I need to be seen to be worth anything. (now that is hard and embarrassing to say.)  In all those hours of the day, I am faced with the choice of how to spend my time.  How I spend my time produces fruit no matter what I choose.  I have decided to spend my time as of late walking the long road of digging deep into my faith.  Of reading scripture and books that encourage me and teach me.  I am praying more over who I am and what my voice was made for.  I am researching and talking with people about business and life and social issues.  People that challenge me and force me to think outside of my box.  I am digging deeper and putting the time into chipping away at what gift lies underneath all the issues.

It's exhausting and kind of scary.  It's hard to fight the demons of result based value.  But I persevere.  I don't want to waste my time or potential anymore.  One of my greatest fears has always been that at the end of my life, I would look back and see that I was too scared to live a life out loud.  I want a life that is courageous and deep, and real, and inspiring.  By not developing a deep root system, I realize how my life will drift away.  I don't want that.  I want an inspired life.  A deep rooted, authentic, rich life.  Time to dig deep I guess.

Hello 2013.  You kind of scare me, but I'm ready now more than ever. I am ready to walk the long road.

Believing the lie part 2

So everything I wrote yesterday in this blog was true.  But there was more to say.  There is more to say because sometimes when we don't speak up, speak out, say what we need to say, or essentially live our lives, there could be other things at work as well.

We can remain silent in words and actions, living quietly hoping that no one sees us because are afraid to be ourselves.  When we allow others to control our decisions, we have handed them power over our lives.  I don't speak up because I believe you think my thoughts are simple, silly and non important.  I choose not to act because I have given you the power to silence me.  You have become my authority, my master, dictating what I say, when I say it, and how I act or behave.

As a Christian I believe I serve one master.  Well, let's be honest, scripture speaks to only being able to serve one master, as a normal human being, I have not perfected this.  My goal is to try and rededicate myself every day to the one opinion that matters, God's.

After I wrote yesterday's blog, I heard from a friend who confessed to also struggling with these same thoughts.  She heard God speak to her, "just write".  It reminded me of the first time I spoke publicly as a professional.  It was in front of 800 junior high students and I was terrified!  Terrified enough to cry continuously, confess constantly at my lack of being ready, and fear that I had made a huge mistake.  I readied myself that day repeating this mantra  "If one child hears how deeply they are loved by God, then that is why I came.  Just one child."

And then it was as clear as if God was standing right next to me.  I heard him say, "I don't care if all 800 of these students walk away not getting anything.  I brought these 800 students here for you.  I wanted you to trust me.  I wanted you to follow me, and start this journey.  I brought them here so you would say yes to me and trust me to walk you through this."

We so easily forget that we only have one small piece of the puzzle.  That God in his infinite wisdom and direction is doing many things in our lives and in the world all at the same time.  We are but one small piece of the masterpiece.  But our piece is important and our voice is needed.  Our voice and our life is needed because God does work that we do not see when we live our lives trusting him.  I may think what I do is small compared to so many others working to fight AIDS, Hunger, Poverty.  I get down on myself and believe the lie and stay quiet.  Then Satan wins, and I don't play my part.  We aren't supposed to know the effects of each of our actions, we are just supposed to live and trust God to work.  When we stay silent we harden our hearts to the kind of love and trust and faith that God has so sacrificially given to us.  We say no to the greatest gift ever given.

The last thing that really struck me as I was thinking about that post, was how easy it is to live quietly.  I think many people, including myself, are scared to live big lives.  Lives that are full of real strong opinions, or lives that take risks and chances.  Lives that pursue dreams or stand up for what we believe in.  It is terrifying to put yourself out there.  When you put yourself, your thoughts, your opinions, your beliefs, your heart, your soul out there, you leave yourself open for judgement.  Now everyone can really see you, who you are, what you are about. They will see all of you, not just the clean version of yourself you portray to everyone.  Living a big life doesn't mean starting the next big thing that will change the world, it simply means being the truest version of yourself you can be.  It means trusting your voice.  Loving yourself.  Living for God.  That is living a big life, and that my friends can be terrifying.

So there isn't just one lie to believe to keep you chained down, your heart hidden away, dreams tucked in your childhood treasure box.   There are many lies, many fears to fight through to have confidence in your voice, your life, your faith, your heart.

Let's fight the lies my friends.  Let's slay the dragon and move on.  I don't know about you, but I need more alive people in my life, and I can wait for someone else to start, but that would just be another lie.

It starts with you.
It starts with me.

You have a voice.
I have a voice.

Taking time to pray

I believe in quiet prayers.   Prayers that only reach the heart and ears of the God who made you.

But never underestimate the power of praying out loud.  Not only does God hear those prayers, but other important  hearts and ears hear them too.

I think it is critically important that we as Christian parents pray with our children.  I don't just mean your standard meal time and bedtime and morning prayers, or even the Lord's prayer.  I mean, plain speech, talk to a friend, share what's on your heart prayers.  This is one of those of things that we could do from the very beginning with our children.  This way it is never a taught skill, it is a natural form of communication and one they understand, because they have never been without it.

This isn't about passing along religion to our children.  This is about teaching them how to be in a relationship with the Lord.  How to share your heart with him.  Your fears, your joys, and just the every day musings of your mind.

The best part of praying together as a family, out loud, is first, you and your children will grow comfortable praying in front of people.  So many people, even life long Christians, get nervous praying in front of others.  Praying together as a family will help all of you get more comfortable praying out loud in front of others.

Second and most important, you get a direct line straight into the heart and inner thoughts of your children and spouse.  There are many days where our lives are filled with day to day chores, responsibilities and adventures.  You have seen your family, shared laughs with them, frustrations with them, and then when the day is over, you crash into bed.  Days can go by without a true, real connection.

Tonight at bedtime, I was abundantly blessed.  We read our stories, we sang our songs, we said our prayers.  But I wanted us to pray together as a family.  We don't do it every night, and even tonight, I was tired and ready to just be done, finish the dishes and crawl into bed.  But the Lord was nudging me.  "Create the habit. Talk to me", I heard.  And so I said, "Big, what do you want to pray for?"

Big, "God, I pray for our friend Ms. Inga.  I pray God that you would heal her hurt head.  That you would take away her headache.  God I pray that you would help make Kieran and Michael big helpers to Inga so that she can rest, and they would take care of her.  Amen." (I don't think I actually told the kids my friend was ill, they overheard it in a phone conversation.)

Middle, "God I pray for cousin Ryan that you would take away his cancer and he would be all better so he could be with his family.  Make him not sick anymore. (We haven't spoken about Ryan in the last couple weeks, so this touched me very deeply.)  And please God heal mommy's toe so that it won't hurt or fall off.  (I broke my toe last week, but it has no real threat of falling off.)  Amen.

Little, "God I pray for Inga's head. Make it better. See that mama, I prayed for Ms. Inga too! Amen.  (she is a work in progress, but nothing is sweeter to my ears than then sound of small children praying)

Paul then prayed for me that I would not get overwhelmed with chores.  He praised God for the work I do around the house and taking care of our home and our children.  I love nothing more than having my children hear their dad pray to the Lord, especially as he prays for their mom.  I love that my husband did that, and that my children heard that.

I prayed that my children would desire God on their own.  I prayed for wisdom.  I prayed that God would continue to be the final authority in our home and a few other things.

This kind of blessing doesn't happen every day in our home.  But what it reminds me of, and why I share it with you, is to serve as an encouragement.  That we would pray with our children so they can hear our hearts and we can hear theirs.  So that we all know that even though mom and dad have authority in the home, we are all under God's authority.  That our children would hear our confessions and seeking God's forgiveness, communicates to them that we aren't perfect and need God desperately as well.  We get to hear what our children's inner thoughts are, which allows us to serve them and help them more effectively.

My hope and desire is that we would each be encouraged and take the time to pray with our children.  Nothing is more important, and I promise you will be blessed.