on longing for peace.

"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." - c.s. lewis

____ 

"He has made everything beautiful in his time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end." - ecclesiastes 3:11

____

as my years on this earth increase,

my heart learns to lean in more, to love deeper. 

to go further in.

I watch as my sweet babes grow older--

the future creeps into the present, and just as quickly bleeds into the past. 

at times, the weight of brokenness in this life overwhelms me. 

I can almost feel the groaning of our imperfect earth--heavy with the blood of innocents, the pain of the alienated, the tears of the grieving. 

and in the quiet of the night, are moments I find myself aching--for the day of redemption, perfection.

for the revelation of the love that binds the broken into beauty. 

my heart whispers: come quickly, lord Jesus. 

and then, the sun rises. 

filling the dark with light, uncovering glimpses of beauty everywhere, waiting to be seen. 

new mercies to fill us for another day. 

and if we press into grace, we might just make it.

oh, God be with us.

on silence.

"i've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. it has a quality and a dimension all its own."- chaim potok

i have never been fond of silence.

somewhere along the way of growing up, the silence became my enemy. it did the very opposite of comfort and instead, it was loud and buzzing with insults, criticism, and fear. eventually i learned to fill any moments void of outside noise with whatever i could--books, movies, music, and people, as often as i could find myself around them.

perhaps that was the start of it, but i'd like to think that i was made to crave words. there is something essential and spiritual to me about words in all mediums. but how often the most damaging sort to me, are my own.

words are how i live, thrive, and crumble.

i love people.
i love talking with them, engaging with them.

i quickly feel connected to someone after i share bits of my soul through words, and learn about parts of theirs. these words are the root of my foundations and are intertwined with the essence of my faith. talking about the things that dwell in my soul is what makes me feel whole.

simply put, i find comfort in the exchange of words. without the ability to use my words, i feel as if i am not fully functioning in the way i was meant to, from the beginning.
___

this has been a season of transition--a stretch of days, weeks, and months that has been filled with so many lessons for both our hearts and minds.

and, it has been a season light on words.

they have stuck in my fingertips, and stuck on the tip of my tongue.
and they have refused to fully form most times i have tried to push them out despite their defiance.
for months now, there have been times i've felt as if they have betrayed me.

my passion, dried up.

but the thing is, i think i'm starting to see why.

i've been learning so much of my heart lately, and that there is correlation between how quickly my words jump out of my mouth and how unsettled my heart is.

oh, how much i rely on those exchanges for comfort and contentment.
and the anxiety i feel when i come up wanting for words correlates so closely with the discontentment in my own soul.

i have reverted back to my default position, my good old survival mentality. once again, i viciously dread the silence. i allow my vulnerabilities, my faults, and my fears to scream at me once outside sounds cease. because i see my lack, and my lack of ability to fix my sin, and i push it down.

and i run from facing the things that need to be pulled out by their roots by proverbially putting my hands to my ears as i fill the silence, and add a stomp of a foot each time i hit "next" on netflix to watch just one more show.

i am missing so many moments of communion with God, i cringe at the thought of even trying to count.

so many missed opportunities to hear him speak through the chaos in my mind, and to calm the waters that rage in the moments void of sound.

there are countless passages that speak to stillness.
to waiting. to listening. to simply being.

be still. it says.
yet i am hardly ever still. at least not in the true sense.
how often instead do i grab my phone, bouncing from one app to another, until i calm my reeling mind (as if that ever really works)? or pulling up netflix when i have a short respite or a few moments to myself.

how do i expect to have words of merit flow out, when i resist putting anything of merit in?

so as part of a chapter ends and a new one begins, i have looking back at more and more unearthed sins and corners of my heart filled with complacency. corners i had forgotten about for years.
it has been messy at times, and fruitful too, though sometimes it seems the lesser.

and yet, i feel my heart being stirred to action.

i have learned more about patience.
perseverance.
contentment.
faith.

and silence.

learning how to hold my words.
and learning to let them go, and to listen, instead.
beginning to pursue contentment, and inspiration.
instead of demanding inspiration (like that ever works).

and so here i sit, looking forward to learning to love the silence once again. to embrace it, drink from it, and let my words flow out from it. it won't be an easy process, but not many things of worth really are.  so, i am encouraged.

and for that, i am ever thankful.
because i know that God will meet me in it.

love.

in with the new (a few thoughts).

suddenly, it's a new year the new year is in full swing.

life has been busy and strange and tiring, but it has been so good and full of hard lessons for my heart and head. in a season that is so much more mild than years past, i've struggled as if it were anything but, and in ways that are new to me. discontentment. anxiety. fear. depression. joylessness.

but in it, i have seen so much fruit.
and through it, i've acquired a thirst for change.

i've pulled back from social media some (if you follow me, you may have noticed) and have been observing my use of time in general. from it, i've seen a lack, and have been learning to exercise more self-control, to be more present in the life of my days. i desire to be the kind of woman that purposefully seeks out small moments, knowing that they are precious and are what shape my memories of these years. i want to be the kind of woman who strives for the mundane to be as full of joy as the highs and the lows alike. 

i want to be the kind of woman that that leaves that legacy to those around me, when they remember these days long past.

______

so, if i had to pick a word to anthem this year, i'd say it was joy.
but, really, that doesn't quite cut it. and since i have a tendency to use too many words in general life to just choose one, i picked three instead:

present. 
creative. 
and, most of all, joyful.

these words are the essence of my prayers for this year. i'm already staggered by the way i see God pushing my heart and shaping the way i think and act. i feel excited and passionate (and even able!) to grow in so many areas: in planning, praying, studying, writing, reading, heath, exercising, parenting, marriage-ing (we're going to say that's a thing, ok?), and loving well.

i'm sure i won't master most of these, but really, the goal is to strive. to surrender. to faithfully, passionately pursue growth in the areas i feel God is pushing me in, faithful that he will work through my brokenness and weakness to produce fruit and growth. and that his glory will be seen in its midst.

and so, my goal is not to set resolutions (i know i will break them), or to be perfect (this broken side of heaven), but it is to learn now how to use this life well--to be a light and an encouragement to those around me, pointing them to the gospel that is the very thing that gives me breath.

starting with the two small ones that watch me so closely every day.

this life is short. i not only want to embrace and savor each and every moment--i want to make them brim with joy and grace and the exhilaration that comes from taking this life and making it a good one. this is my first step in what i hope to be a life-long journey, full of joy.

so here's to 2015.
let's do this.

love.

10.23.14

dear c and n--

sometimes i can't even find the words for all the things i want to tell you. all the things i want to help you understand, navigate, believe, and embrace. but today i have them, today i have words about grace.

because these last few days have been full for us.
they have been busy with unexpected things.
they have been messy with hard lessons.
they have been exhausting and discouraging and have left me feeling lacking as your mother immensely.

but i hope that you can look back on the busy and the hard and the difficult, and see that you are loved. i hope that you can see my many faults and weaknesses less than the fact of how strongly i love you, as i learn to navigate these waters of mothering, day after day.

i hope you remember these days with grace.

_____

these past few days have been peppered with times when both of you have noticed moments where grace abounds, been affected by it in such sweet ways, and have extended it to me despite my countless imprefections.

and it has shown me yet again the power of the gospel.
the beauty of the gospel.
my need for the gospel.

and it has struck me to my core. and so, as i relearn how to cling to grace and give grace in these muddled days of emotion and training and loving and guiding, i hope that you remember the love and the kindness in the midst of the mistakes and the weakness.

i know you will remember the coffee, but i hope you remember the grace.

love,
mama.

10.14.14

dear c and n--

life is going to be hard sometimes.

you've already experienced it in different ways--sickness and hardship and exhaustion has encountered our little family more than we would have liked. and still, as the years grow that you live this life on earth, more hard times will come.

but there is hope. 
because just as there is sweet in the hard, there is hope in the hopeless.
and there is grace for it all.

what i want most in the world for you is that as you grow, you grow in your love for--and faith in--God. that your hearts would always be tender towards his word and his grace and his redeeming love.

if i leave nothing else behind as my legacy for you, i hope that it is this--that you love well, that you live fully, and that you cling to the one that ransomed you, through all the things that come your way.

your hearts are large and your souls are sweet. both of you have such a joy and love within that radiates out and affects those around you in great ways. let these be what drive you in your efforts as you grow, and as your pursue the one that loves you perfectly.

you are precious to me.
you are precious to your father.
and you even more precious to the God that was kind enough to give you both to us.

dear ones, cling to one who gives us grace and redeems our souls to glory.
never lose hope.

love,
mama.

10.12.14

dear n--

you are such a gift.
the gift that came to us after the sorrow of loss--a promise of the faithfulness of God.

you bring us so much joy, every day.

watching you grow is a magical thing. you've fallen into a rhythm of living already, and your character is decided and formed and strong.

your little person is so full of life and love and glitter--
so much glitter.

i never knew someone so small could be so opinionated and sure of her what she likes (have i mentioned the glitter?). i love your feistiness and how ready you are to tackle the world and all it brings. i maybe do not love the fact that you refused to say mama until just a few weeks ago, but i admire your resolve. :)

despite your fiery independence, you are kind and sweet and you love to cuddle. and you love to give kisses to all your favorites. a lot of kisses. you love deeply and fully and are so aware of those around you.

_____

i hope you never lose that spirit and determination and the comfort you have in your own skin. these things make you so unique, and a joy to be around. there will be times ahead when there will be those that come try to push you down or take away the spark that makes you thrive. don't ever let them.

because you are gorgeous, inside and out. 

you, my sweet girl, are a passionate force in my life and those around you. and i am honored to be a part of your story.

love,
mama.

10.7.14

dear n--

i hate when you're sick.

your fevers come so quickly, and the feelings of helplessness and anxiety follow right behind. the world seems so much more fragile when i hold your little body, lying limply and uncomfortably.

it makes me feel helpless.

motherhood is hard. it makes you feel thin and fragile and vulnerable in new ways. but, just as it is when you find someone that loves you for who you are--for your very soul and self--this new vulnerability and fragility is sweet, as much as it is terrifying.

perhaps one day you'll be a mother as well. and you'll feel the surge of bare, fervent love for a person that is so much like you, but still so much their own self. whatever your future holds, i know you'll love well.
_____

i've learned more of God's love for his children through having my own. and he has proven the faithfulness of his love for this little family of ours time and time again.

he carried you safely as he formed your beautiful self in my belly, he carries you now as you navigate these first few years in this big world, and he will carry you every day after, whatever comes your way.

and so today, i'm reminding myself that he is the one that held you first, and he will hold you always. i hope you grasp firmly this truth to heart early on, and never allow anxiousness to take hold when things don't go as planned, and when the things of life get hard.

this world and our bodies are fragile and vulnerable, but the moments are beautiful.
and they can be found in the ordinary, like these sick-day snuggles we share while you mend.

love,
mama.

10.5.14

 

dear c and n--

i miss you when you're gone.
even when you're gone for just a little bit.

i hope when you're grown it will be easier to give you enough space to let you live your lives in the way that God calls you to, even if it draws you far from where we are.

but there's not grace for that yet.
and so today, i miss you both.

your giggles.
your hugs.
and even the incessant questions (that's all you, c. :)).

it's so quiet here without you. and the quiet is just another reminder that you're not here with me. of the abundance of life that your little bodies leave in their wakes.

and so sometimes, when you're gone, the quiet isn't quiet at all. it's loud.
a reminder that there are parts of my heart absent from this place.

but reunions, they are always sweet.
and i hope, no matter where you go, they will always be.

love,
mama.

10.4.14

dear c and n--

sometimes life gets in the way of your plans.

just go with it.

love,
mama.

10.3.14

dear c --

the way you see the world is beautiful. at four years old, you live with such abandon, pursuing the things you love so fully and unashamedly.

you are you, fully.
you never measure yourself by others. and when others compare you, you are so beautifully unaware.
you don't even skip a beat.

and yet, your heart is so tender and always so fully open. though you act without worrying of what others think, you care deeply about consoling others when you sense that they are upset. you are quick to supply a concerned, kind word and a hug (and sometimes with freshly-cooked "pancakes" from your kitchen).

your ability to be so free and yet so sensitive to others is something that i admire so much. and is something that you have inspired me to grow in, just by being you these four years.

i hope this is something that you never outgrow. and i hope that as the years go on, you will always see the best in those around you, and that you always lack the self-awareness that can so quickly hinder your passion and the freedom to be yourself.

we live in a world that so quickly tries to conform you to external standards, but those standards are so often times lacking any merit, and can so quickly steal your joy--don't ever give in to them. because the things that really matter are the things that God cares about in his children, and calls us to cultivate--a humble soul, a loving, gentle heart, and the freedom to pursue the passions he has given you fully and without shame, for his glory.

and these, sweet boy, are the things in which you excel.

you are my hero. it is such a joy to see the world through your eyes.

love,
mommy.

10.2.14

dear c and n --

you two. 

where do i even begin? you are the sweetest, kindest, strangest, most beautiful little people i have ever met. i don't think i will ever be able to express just how much you both have my heart, just how unique and beautiful and precious you are, or how proud i am of you.

but i'm going to try my best to tell you just that. every single day.

and i hope that when you look back on these years, the countless times you've heard it will be etched into your memories, and that you will never falter in your surety of knowing that you are loved fiercely by both of us, and even more by the God that entrusted you to us.

you have rocked our world and have grown our hearts in the best way possible. you are our greatest achievements.

love,
mama.

31 days of letters to my little loves.

lately, i've been working to be present in my day, to cherish the moments i have with these sweet blessings i've been given, while trying to pour as much love and encouragement and thoughts and life into each of them.  it has been a busy but sweet season of connecting with each of them, but it has left me feeling a little discouraged in a particular way.

there are so many times in the day that my heart bursts with things i want to tell them, but these long days of the little years leave my words meaningless to these little minds that can't yet grasp them. i have such a passion to be a champion to each of them, to build them up in order to set them loose on this world and make much of it. and i know that the season for that will come soon enough (and probably quicker than i want it), but i don't want to forget these years and the words that are for them, and have been for them in these little years, before it's here.

and there's the reality that i don't know how much of their lives i'll be here for--i have learned that there is no guarantee of decades of life lived together in this world. and so i don't want to waste the days (and the words) i've been given.

and so today, i am taking the first step to act on this passion that's been stirring. i want to leave them years of words and prayers and my heart written out upon pages for them, to have no matter where their lives take them.

i want them to know that i have loved them since the beginning, and i want them to see themselves the way i see them. beautiful, stunning, fierce, compassionate, strong, and lovely.

and so this is where i'm going to start. i'm joining up in the 31 day writing challenge, committing to write every day for the month of october. i'm sure many days will be not much more than snippets of our day, or prayers for their future, or maybe just a blubbering mess of a mama heart that overflows when i catch a glimpse of them. and there will probably be days that i miss, but this is my first step in doing something that's been on my heart for some time. something is so simple to execute but has been put on the back burner for other (and many times less important) things.

so, here goes nothing. :)

love.

p.s. if you're joining in on the 31 day challenge, i'd love to hear what you're writing on!

to find the rest of the posts in this series, click on the sidebar image.

thoughts from a darkened hospital room.

my flesh and my heart may fail, 

but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

- psalm 73:26

two nights ago, i wrote hope-filled words of a new, somewhat unfamiliar season of health and life for us. i felt so full of peace and encouraged at the thought of green pastures before us, ready and waiting to be explored--family outings, date nights, long conversations filled with shared hopes and dreams that might be realized sooner than later.

four hours later, i woke to the familiar and unwanted sound of my husband in pain.

it's funny how quickly you go back there. to breathing every detail of years of pain and sickness as if it were still your daily reality. as if you'd never left the side of the hospital bed two years ago.

and then the fear comes. because you know what comes of those groans too well.

as life has been getting easier around here, i've secretly been waiting for the other shoe to drop. as if i was sure that this life we've been given--that we've made together--is too sweet, too good, to not be riddled with pain and end in disaster.

this man that i have is the air i breathe. and if i'm honest with myself, sometimes i'm afraid he'll be taken away because i love him too much and because i know i don't deserve him.

and yet he is a living, tangible evidence of grace realized in front of my eyes on a daily basis. because a person like me, broken and sinful with bags of filth and pain and cold-hearted days shouldn't be loved, let alone cherished, by someone like him. someone who has shown me love sweeter than i knew existed. who has given me the children that make my heart ache in the best way.

with such an obvious reminder of the gospel working out in my life every day, i should be easily reminded of the larger truth of the love of God that has redeemed me and keeps me.

and yet, i've found myself living in a state of fear pretty often throughout the past year. fearing that these people i love most will be scooped up and taken from my arms in this life. i fear the unknown of the future and the inevitable pain and loss that will come eventually. because in this life, all things end.
____

yesterday we sat in a darkened ER room and waited for consults, CT scans, tests and answers. the quiet was a welcome sound and i was aware and thankful of the blessing of medicine as i watched the chest of the man i love rise and fall in a peaceful rhythm.

and in that moment, i remembered that our God is faithful. and i could believe it with the fibers of myself. he is good, and he cares for this man of mine more than i can fathom, even with him having the devotion of my entire heart and soul.

and we can rest in the character of the one that does not change whether we are in the valleys or on the lush high grounds of our lives. this God that is faithful, and that is good.

we can persevere in the midst of pain because, as he has shown us time and time again, he will see us through.

there is something in the raw, helpless moments of the unknowns and the what ifs that can allow the presence of God to slip in and calm the anxious heart, in the middle of having to face the realization of our darkest fears.

how quickly i forget these moments when the storms pass. when the fullness of life crowds my view again and somehow i put my trust in the temporal and physical that breaks so easily and leaves me wanting over and over.

but those moments come again. those tastes of the goodness and sweetness and the glory of God are so constant as they slip in and out of our awareness. they are so real that when they are seen they cause this life and the troubles in it to seem dim.
____

life seemed a little bit dim as i sat in the empty hospital room waiting for the bed to roll in holding my husband. as i thought of my babies safe in their beds and missed their smells and sounds and smiles, it was as if the spiritual and the physical found themselves at an intersect and i understood.

that when this life seems dim, it's at it's brightest. there is hope in the darkest crevices of fear of loss and pain in this life. because of the hope we have in christ and the promises of a faithful father to see us through this fleeting time here together and uphold us until we are with him in glory.

this life of ours is thin and dim.
this life of ours is sweet and precious.

last night i remembered that the more i hold this life in the perspective of eternity, the dimness replaces fear with gratitude and joy. and as i look forward, afraid of losing babies and losing cherished ones and pain and brokeness, i can look back on lost babies and lost cherished ones and pain and brokenness and see the grace of God sustaining us. and taste the sweetness of the surety of my faith realized in the darkest of times.

tonight as i sit in this darkened hospital room and think about the future and the uncertainty of it all i can remember. that it will be okay, and when the storms come, the grace will be there, too. and i can remember that this life of mine is thin and dim and sweet and precious.

and i want to savor every moment of it, before it slips away.

love.

scenes from the (independence day) weekend.

this weekend was made of new memories. the weather was glorious and we were spoiled with having nick home for three whole days. i feel like, in a lot of ways, it was a glimpse of the start of a whole new season for us. a season of (relatively) good health and sweet littles and love and life and joy. we explored downtown, ate good food, laughed with good friends, stayed up late, and thoroughly enjoyed each other. god is so kind.

for now, here are just a few (very high-quality if i might add) photos from our first family fireworks.

the kids had a blast. we love this city.

till next time (and that will be soon, i promise).

love.

he would have been ninety.

the death of a loved one is an amputation.

- c.s. lewis, a grief observed

how it is that time passes and somehow the years grow longer on the side of loss, than life?

i've learned that someone can be gone longer than the entire breadth of your time with them and yet there are moments when the weight of their hand still weighs heavy, imprinted, on your shoulder.

and in the middle of happy moments the ache of a memory surprises you freshly and brings you to tears as if it was just the other day, long after you thought you had accepted it. 

---

seventeen years is longer than fourteen, yet still i cling to the few remnants of his voice and the visions of him that i can remember. 

of the daffodils he cut fresh for my every birthday.

of his dancing with moves reminiscent of tevya's to ballads like "beat it" at christmas parties and his dark blue trousers powdered with the sandy dirt from working in the garden. my secret garden. 

of his stirring the pot of hot cereal every morning with the wooden spoon softly patting the sides and his sitting down and scooting his chair across the wood floor with a soft scrape to help me with my homework every afternoon. 

of his shoulders that seemed so broad and his arms that would wrap me up and keep me safe and hugs that would calm the roughest storms inside. 

of his encouraging me to try even when I didn't have to and to be better than i thought i could be and his telling me of how he knew i could be. 

of the man that didn't have to love me as his own, but did. 

of a wet carnation hitting the coffin with a gentle slap as it lowered into the ground on that stormy day that broke me.

my heart will hurt no matter how long the years grow on this side of life without him. there are still so many times i replay the last days and wish for a different ending. for more time and more words and more hugs.

but the truth is, the time that we did have was a blessing and that the life lived together is worth the loss, even in the darkest moments of grief when it doesn't feel worth the ache. because the man i called grampa was one of the most important men i will ever know, and i will forever consider it an honor to be part of his legacy. 

and, really, it's a privilege that i am able to mourn him so.

because even though he was flawed, he loved me well. and when i think of how God loves his children, i remember him. 

thanks for everything, grampa. 

love. 

on learning to be silent.

"the one who doesn't know how or when to be silent doesn't know how or when to speak."   - donald whitney

there are words that won't come out.
so many thoughts swirling, stories still untold, and emotions that are begging to be let through words.

so many times i've tried to let them out, but nothing comes. i feel the urge to get my thoughts out, with such a strong desire to communicate in the way that my soul does best, and still my hands are still from writing and are clenched more than i'd like to admit. and still my mouth is forming words that aren't anywhere near what i'd hoped for.

some days only dry words lacking hope pass through my lips, unrestrained.

i've never been good at silence. i struggle to wade through five conflicting thoughts at once--some trivial, some life-changing, and a growing number anxious--and the noise quickly leaves me disoriented. so, i distract myself with anything i can and usually nothing that is beneficial for me--a chatter of netflix, social media, texting, and anything else i can grab onto mindlessly.

i know that none of these things are wrong on their own, and many have been tools of grace more than once in my life. but this perpetual stimulation of superficiality has only eaten away at my nerves and emotions. it has left them bare and misfiring.

whether i want to admit it or not, i need the quiet--my soul needs it. to sit in silence and listen, not to myself, but to the truth that is hidden in the depths. to meditate on all the words that God has spoken and use them as a lens, to filter all that the world and life and my own mind are throwing at me, instead of butting in--trying to drown out the chaos--with my own weak voice.

"come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." - matthew 11:28

i wish it came easily for me to be comfortable in the silence.
i wish that my ear was naturally tuned to hear that still, small voice speaking peace and grace to me.
instead my instinct is to struggle against the silence and when i do, a frustrated string of dissonant chords rifle around and cause so much chaos in my soul that i am only left more wanting, and raw.

as i've been working towards cultivating the discipline i know i need to overcome, i've started to see some of what's at the heart of this struggle. in my need for distraction from the noise, and for self-interjection during those quiet pauses, i'm fighting against God. it's in these times when i need my soul to be silent before him the most, and not surprisingly, where i find myself resisting it most fiercely. the more i resist, the more off-track i find myself.

and it usually ends in burst of hopeless, self-centered prattle, followed by a puddle of tears.

so here i am, in a new month and new day, and i'm trying to learn how to train these thoughts to cease (if only for little snippets of time). i'm working on opening my hands--letting the muscles relax when the urge to wring them comes--when the words don't and the chaos creeps in. and as i learn to stop my words that lack so much grace, leaving a pause for them to give way to graceful words that string themselves into prayers.

prayers for humility and strength, to not only be okay with the silence, but to embrace it. because i know that the more i seek (and ultimately find) rest in the arms of my God who is able to breathe peace into my mind, the more i will be comfortable in this skin, and with the words it breathes and writes.

it might be a little bit quiet for a little bit longer around here, but it's in hopes that fresh words will eventually flow and that they will be words full of life and hope, pointing to the source from where i draw my very breath.

love.

4.21.14

"She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head, 

And whispered to her neighbor:

"Winter is dead."

- A.A. Milne

i've missed this blog. we've been living a full life the past couple of weeks and, now that spring finally seems to have sprung, i'm hoping for even more long days filled with new memories.

be back soon.

love.

2.10.14

Praying

It doesn't have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

- Mary Oliver

love.

on overcoming the lie (of perfection).

there's a lie that i've let myself believe for a long time. 
a lie that has left me feeling guilty, condemned, and defeated so many times. 

it's something that God has been slowly opening my eyes to, and it's more than partly the reason for my post about my new year's goals, and striving to be free.

because the lie of perfection is deadly. 

this thing we tell ourselves as women, that everyone else has it together, except for us. and that if we can somehow attain it, we will find joy.

for me, this notion of perfection coexists with comparison. oh, how quickly i compare myself to other women, both online and offline. sometimes consciously, sometimes not.

how they look. 

how they dress.

how put together they are, how organized their life is.

how many kids they have successfully birthed and raised.

how they care for their home, how they cook.

how well they bless and serve others.

how much better than me they are, at just about everything.
and how i am not.

and before i know it, i find myself in this place of coveting and discontent. wishing i were better, wishing i were more.

and it's exhausting. 

when we look to others as our standard, we turn their giftings into idols and their strengths into our own gods that are always just out of reach. it's wonderful, and i think important, to admire our sisters for their strengths and evidences of grace in their lives and be inspired to grow in similar ways, but we need to be careful not to put too much emphasis on the doing, lest we stifle God's work in our hearts and lives. 

and really, these women I compare myself to aren't perfect either. they are human. but even still, the truth that we need to embrace isn't that they don't have it all together either, but that the solution is found when we look to God for our definition of perfection and our solution for our imperfection.

because to God, being the perfect woman isn't as important as being a faithful one.

the good news is, he is perfect for us, and we are made perfect in him. because no matter how hard we try, we will never be perfect, this side of heaven. and how much freedom should come in believing that our savior knows our imperfections and loves us anyway. because he has ransomed us.

i want to live my life embracing where i am, so that i can move forward.

i want to remember that while all different, we all have our strengths and our struggles. 

i want to cling to grace, and be free to strive for the perfection that matters.

and let's be women that live this truth out daily. fully and wholeheartedly clinging to the cross, covered by his grace, and freed from the lies we so quickly let ourselves believe. free from the lies that will never bring us joy.

and lady, you are beautiful. 

you are fearfully and wonderfully made. 
and imperfect you is precious to him.

and he wants to make us whole. 

and he loves to make broken things beautiful.

by his grace, and for his glory.

love.

___

i'm taking part in Overcome the Lie's annual blog tour. it's such an honor to be a part of this series, to encourage women to rise up and overcome the lies so many of us fall victim to in our lives. be sure to check them out, because their heart for women is contagious. 

f i v e.

five years ago today, i said yes to this man.

yes to sickness, health, poverty, wealth, and life in all it's forms.

we have faced more in these past five years than i ever imagined we could. we've spent weeks upon weeks in hospitals, and we've left those rooms behind. we've lost a child, and we've welcomed two. we've had seasons of barely making ends meet, as well as new seasons of a bit more means.

and through it, we endured. and we have loved.

he has loved me so well.

so often i find myself looking at him, wonder what made him see what he does in me. what it was that caught his attention, to love me like he does. because i don't deserve him. he sees the best in me, and encourages me to be all that i want to be. even when it would be easier to not, he pursues my good above his own.

and oh, he makes me laugh.

most days, i can't remember what life was like without him. but i do know that is was harder and lonelier and less. so much less.

because this man of mine, he is wise. he is logical, consistent and so steady. he has the ability to calm me like no one else.
he is kind.
loving.
gentle.
he is so many things that i am not, but want to be.

in short, this man is my hero. he is my joy and my partner.

he is far more than simply my best friend. he is everything i could have hoped for, and more.

happy anniversary, baby. here's to so many more years.

and no matter what they're filled with, i am blessed to share them with you.

love.