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

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"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

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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.

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.
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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.
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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.

provision: daily bread.

There has been quite a lot going on these past few weeks.

Last week, Nick started his new job. For some of you, that might not seem like it deserves italics. But oh, it does. This is the first time he has not been self-employed since we've been married (really, since he was in high school). What does this mean for us? Financial stability. Money. Provision.

And a there is a weightlessness about my husband that I haven't seen in a long time.

For awhile now, finances have been tight for us. Nick has been working most of the day and night, every day. Still, it has been a season of little means. We are at the end of what has been yet another facet of a long trial for us. But through it, we've learned even more.

We have learned how to pray more fervently.

The idea of "daily bread" has become real to me. The normal needs of life have filled out our prayers in a way that, by the grace of God, we have never faced before. And it has caused us to live much more in the present--something that doesn't always come naturally to me.

But no matter what are needs, God is never late. This is a truth that we have learned over and over again.

And here we are--Nick well and strong, a baby on the way, a part-time income (I got a job too!) and a full-time income. This is the stuff our dreams have been made of for the past few years.

I've started reading E.M. Bounds's books on prayer. It's been such a confirmation to what I've been feeling my prayer life should look like. Even within the first two chapters of the first book, I was so encouraged. It spoke to me in this season of want that we have found ourselves, where today's needs have become a reality.

I want to share some of it with you. And, as a forewarning, there will probably be more where this came from in the coming days. It's a long quote, but bear with me. It's so good.

Faith covers temporal as well as spiritual needs. Faith dispels all undue anxiety and needless care about what shall be eaten, what shall be drunk, what shall be worn. Faith lives in the present, and regards the day as being sufficient unto the evil thereof. It lives day by day, and dispels all fears for the morrow. Faith brings great ease of mind and perfect peace of heart.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusted in thee.

When we pray, "Give us this day our daily bread," we are, in a measure, shutting tomorrow out of our prayer. We do not live in tomorrow but in today. We do not seek tomorrow's grace or tomorrow's bread. They thrive best, and get most out of life, who live in the living present. They pray best who pray for today's needs, not for tomorrow's, which may render our prayers unnecessary and redundant by not existing at all!

True prayers are born of present trials and present needs. Bread, for today, is bread enough. Bread given for today is the strongest sort of pledge that there will be bread tomorrow. Victory today, is the assurance of victory tomorrow. Our prayers need to be focused upon the present. We must trust God today, and leave the morrow entirely with him. The present is ours; the future belongs to God. Prayer is the task and duty of each recurring day--daily prayer for daily needs.

As every days demands its bread, so every day demands its prayer. No amount of praying, done today, will suffice for tomorrow's praying. On the other hand, no praying for tomorrow is of any great value to us today. Today's manna is what we need; tomorrow God will see that our needs are supplied. This is the faith which God seeks to inspire. So leave tomorrow, with its cares, its needs, its troubles, in God's hands. There is no storing tomorrow's grace or tomorrow's praying; neither is there any laying-up of today's grace, to meet tomorrow's necessities. We cannot have tomorrow's grace, we cannot eat tomorrow's bread, we cannot do tomorrow's praying. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; and, most assuredly, if we possess faith, sufficient also, will be the good. 

- E.M. Bounds, The Necessity of Prayer (emphasis mine)

Of course, there is a place for prayer on larger matters that span past today. But his point is well made. We can cast our cares for tomorrow on the one that knows our every need. This day that we are in is a gift and we must not waste it. We must live in the present. We must live in faith for God's provision.

And oh, how he does provide.

love.