The Great Exchange

I know who I am.

I've seen beneath my fragile wrappings, and I know the depths of me.  I'm not blind; I will not close my eyes.  I have seen the swirl of inky darkness within myself, and I know what it means.

I'm ravaged, like all the rest.  It only took one invitation for evil to enter the world, and when it did, it devoured everything.  Whatever loveliness once existed, whatever joy or hope, is gone.  Now, there is only darkness.

The very first of us believed a lie, and every one of us since has fallen for it as well.  The same lie still hisses from the serpent's mouth into every ear:  It is not enough.  We bought the lie, and it ruined everything.  I bought the lie, and it ruined me.  This is all that remains.

I know who I am.

I am Eve, the rebel, who shattered the entire world with her own two hands.

I am Rahab, the sinner

          Ruth, the outcast

                    Tamar, the desperate

I am Mephibosheth, the orphan

          David, the fallen

                    Peter, the coward

                              Saul, the destroyer

I am the lost Ethiopian

          the broken Prodigal

                    the guilty Adulteress

The lie I believed has become my identity:  I am not enough.  I am shrunken and wasted, far less than what should be.  All that remains is what I am not.

And this was to be my end...until the day that He came for me.

The great I AM, the One who is everything, came and offered an exchange:

He would take my sin

          my brokenness

                    my darkness

                              my insufficiency

                                        my death

And, in exchange, He would give me His righteousness

          His wholeness

                    His light

                              His sufficiency

                                        His life

With shaking hands, I gathered up the wretchedness that I had become, timidly placed it in His arms, and watched Him take it to the cross.  There, the sky turned black as He bore the hell that I had created.  His death paid my ransom.  And as life returned to His lungs that resurrection morning, true life filled mine for the first time.

The exchange is complete, and I know who I am.

I am Eve, returned to the Garden

I am Rahab, the rescued

          Ruth, the redeemed

                    Tamar, the blessed

I am Mephibosheth, the adopted

          David, the cleansed

                    Peter, the restored

                              Paul, the called

I am the enlightened Ethiopian

          the returned Prodigal

                    the forgiven Adulteress

He has called me by name, and I am His.

I know who I am.  My name is Grace.

"For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him."

~II Corinthians 5:21

The Heart of a Mother

Motherhood will always hold a special place in my heart as the event that changed everything.  Somehow, I didn’t see it coming.  In my pre-children state of naivete, I assumed that motherhood would simply enrich my already rosy world.  Instead, it hit me like a train wreck.

Before I became a mother, I was completely blind to the tangled roots of pride, selfishness, impatience and complacency which crouched hidden in the depths of my heart—faults which were suddenly laid out, bare and ugly, in the sharp light of motherhood.

I’m quite convinced that these four children, whom I cherish so dearly, have changed me just as much as I’ve shaped them.  Perhaps, even more.  It’s through the entanglement of their lives with my own that I’ve learned, again and again, that love equals sacrifice.  Love demands that I die to myself and live for another.

It’s been a messy process (as it turns out, my Self doesn’t really intend to lay down and die without a fight), but it’s been so worth it.  God has used these children to make me more like Himself.  He’s also used them to teach me that I’m not anywhere near as in control of things as I’d like to be.

The more I lay myself down as a living sacrifice for these four children, the more tightly my heart becomes wrapped up in their stories.  Like every mother, I find myself desperate to know that they’re going to be OK; that they’ll grow up safe, whole, and madly in love with Jesus.

Ironically, the more doggedly I strive to achieve these goals for my children, the more I realize that they’re largely outside of my grasp.  It’s a disturbing realization, until I remember the strength of the grasp that God’s grace has had upon my own life.

I couldn’t have run away from God if I had tried.  I did try, in my own way.  It’s almost comical to me the lengths that God stretched to keep me tethered to Himself.  As wonderful as my parents were and still are, they couldn’t have guaranteed the outcome of my life.  They simply introduced me to the Savior, taught me His ways, and He took it from there.

These days, I find myself frequently lifting my children up with trembling hands, and placing them into Jesus’ steady hands of grace. I pray desperately for them every day with tears streaming down my cheeks.  I pray for safety from harm and for peace in the midst of sibling strife.  I pray for purity of body and spirit and for good scores on math tests.  I pray for hearts that love justice and mercy and for courage against playground bullies; I pray for truthfulness, holiness, future spouses, and the patience needed to make it through homework time.

These kids of mine, they’re on my heart all the time.  My prayers for them are frequent; my thoughts never leave them.  These little people are woven into the fabric of who I am, and that’s as it should be.  Every child should have a mother who is obsessed with them.

But some don’t.

Several of their faces adorn my refrigerator, actually.  They are precious children whom we sponsor—sending money across oceans to pay for their food, shelter and education; sending occasional notes or gifts to make them feel special; sending a quick prayer heavenward for them at bedtime.

I have no idea why it never struck me before, but they need so much more than that.  These particular children that we sponsor, they’re orphans.  And one day, several months ago as I prayed for my own kids, their sweet, brown faces floated across my mind.  My heart jumped in my chest as I suddenly wondered, who prays for these children?  I mean, really prays—not these quick prayers we throw heavenward at bedtime.  Who prays for them every single day, with burdened heart, fervent words, and tears on cheeks?  Who obsessively prays for them like a mother would?

Being a mother equals love.  Love equals sacrifice—the laying down of one life for the good of another.  Some beautiful families lay down their entire lives for orphaned children such as these through the incredible gift of adoption.  God hasn’t called our family there…yet.  But surely I can lay down more than just my checkbook for these lovely faces that wallpaper my fridge.  How much would it really cost me to pray for these children the way I pray for the four who came from my own body?  Nothing more than another little piece of my selfishness.

You know these children, too.  Their faces hang on your fridge.  Their feet walk the school halls alongside your own children.  Their hands play at the park down your street.  They may not be physical orphans, but many of them are spiritual orphans.  Who is praying for these children?  Who is hugging them?  Who is telling them that they're incredibly special?  Can our mothers' hearts make room for one more?

Tomorrow, our families will honor us as mothers.  But, really, the honor is all ours.  Motherhood is a gift.  It’s a chance to get over ourselves and get down to the business of really loving like Jesus.  And Jesus’ heart always has room for one or two more.  Why shouldn’t ours?

Happy Mother’s Day!

A Perfectionist Surrenders (Part 3)

(Continued from this post)

We had our second child just 15½ months after our first.  Our third child followed 18 months later.  Then, we wrapped up the whole deal with our fourth and final child, born a few months shy of five years after the first.  Four kids in five years.  Well, you’re thinking, she sure must have gotten over that feeling of helplessness!  Nope.  Not even a little.  I continued to battle post-partum depression following my pregnancies.  Feelings of inadequacy and failure haunted me every step of the way.  You’d think that having four kids would make a person a bit of an expert by the fourth, but it just doesn’t work that way.  First of all, each child is entirely different than the last. In addition, as soon as you think you’ve started to get a handle on one issue, they leave that one in the dust and dream up three more!  I constantly felt in over my head.

But something else was happening in the midst of that helpless place:  I was getting to know my Savior.  Oh, I had known Him for 20 some years to a certain extent, but this…this was different.  Before, I knew God like a neighbor at a barbecue.  Now, I knew God like a soldier in a foxhole.  For years I prayed that God would take away my inadequacy as a parent.  He refused.  He still refuses.  Instead, He whispered to my heart, Without Me, you can do nothing.  I AM who you are not; I can do what you cannot.  I am enough.  Rest in Me.  Walk with Me.

I have, and I have found Him to be sufficient beyond my wildest dreams.

I accepted Jesus as my Savior when I was just 4 years old.  As I grew older, I read my Bible, prayed and went to church because I wanted to know Him, please Him and, also, simply because I knew that I should.  Through years of teaching me about my utter dependence upon Himself, however, Jesus became not only my Savior but also my Lord.  Now, I read my Bible because I have a burning desire to hear from Him—I need His words like I need my next meal.  I pray because I can’t survive without Him—I need His Spirit like I need the air I pull into my lungs with every breath.  I worship because He didn’t just save me once, He saves me still—every moment of every day.

I’m still in over my head.  Parenting still frequently overwhelms me.  There are problems all over the place.  There are things that need to be tweaked over here, and things that need a downright overhaul over there.  There are loose ends everywhere, and some days I worry that if just one of them gets tugged, the whole darn thing will unravel.  But then I remember that our lives are firmly attached to His grand weaving loom; the loose ends aren’t a mistake or an oversight, they’re just opportunities waiting to be woven together into another part of His masterpiece.

I still struggle with perfectionism, but now I recognize it for what it is:  pride.  It is a presumptuous attempt to take back the life that I have surrendered to Him—a life that I have no capability to live on my own.

Occasionally, someone will tell me what great kids I have and what a great mom they think I am.  I do have great kids, but I respond that it’s God’s grace that has made them that way.  Usually, I receive a blank stare or even a well-intentioned argument in return.  But it’s true.  If you could see inside the depths of my heart, if you could really understand the whole story that I’ve lived, you would know it to be so.

How does God rescue a perfectionist?  By plunging her into an ocean that’s way over her head and keeping her there for a very long time.  It is there, as she comes to grips with the maddening fact that she can’t swim, can’t tread water, can’t even float, that she finally stops her incessant thrashing.  And then, in a stunning act of incredible grace, He reaches down to take her hand and lifts her up to walk on water.

“I am the vine, you are the branches.  He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me, you can do nothing.”

~John 15:5

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

~2 Corinthians 12:9

A Perfectionist Surrenders (Part 2)

(Continued from this post)

Within the first few weeks of parenting, I found myself completely overwhelmed.  Most parents do, I suppose.  Unfortunately, for me it wasn’t temporary.  I sank into post-partum depression and could barely see through the fog.  It’s difficult to put into words the depth of the despair that I felt.  Being a mom had been my life-long dream.  Armed with a bachelors degree in nursing, I had already decided that I was going to stay at home with my future kids; the degree was simply a back-up plan.  My family was going to be my life.  And somehow, terribly, I now found myself not up to the task.  How could a high-achieving, grab-the-world-by-the-tail girl who had put herself through college, pulled a 4.0 GPA in nursing school, and never failed at anything in her life, possibly not be able to handle a 7-pound little squirt?!

I prayed desperately.  I needed God like I had never needed Him before.  Surely, I thought, God is just teaching me a lesson here.  If I pray long and hard enough, He’ll reach down and pull me out of this ditch where I’m lying completely helpless, and then I can give all the glory to Him.  But that was not God’s plan.  God had no intention of eliminating my helplessness, just my hopelessness.

My inadequacies didn’t end as our baby grew older.  It seemed that every new stage she entered brought challenges with it that I had no idea how to handle.  Oh, I read all the books and I followed their advice, but the baby just never seemed to line up with what the books said would be the result of following their wise counsel.  A perfectionist’s nightmare!  What do you mean, the rules don’t work??!!  Parenting was slow, messy and frustrating, and I felt like a failure every single day.  So, you can imagine my husband’s surprise when, at the 6-month mark, I told him that I wanted to have another baby.

WHAT??!!

“Frankly,” he said, “I’m a little surprised that we’ve survived the first one!  Surely, you don’t want to do that all over again?  I’ve just now stopped pulling up the psychiatric department on speed dial every five minutes!”  Mind you, it wasn’t the baby that threw him for a loop—when it came to fatherhood, he was a natural.  It was the deleterious effects of motherhood upon his wife’s sanity that had him shaking in his boots.

I told him that I knew it was crazy, and that I wasn’t at all sure that I could handle it.  And then I looked into his eyes and willed him to understand something that was happening in my heart—something I couldn’t adequately put into words.  “I don’t want to walk away from having another child because I feel like I can’t handle it.  I don’t want to back away from the cliff just because it terrifies me.  I think God means for me to get in even further over my head.”

It made no sense—not to me, and not to him.  But the Holy Spirit must have been leading the conversation because if what I said was crazy, what my husband said next was ludicrous.  He said, “OK.”

(to be continued here)

A Perfectionist Surrenders (Part 1)

Hello.  My name is Elizabeth, and I am a recovering perfectionist.

(Hello, Elizabeth.)

The funny thing is I didn’t even know that about myself until someone pointed it out to me about 10 years ago, during a time when my world failed to make sense.  All I knew was that I was the kind of girl who could get things done and do them well.  Tough class?  Study harder.  Complicated piano piece?  Practice longer.  Nursing degree to earn/night shift job to work/wedding to plan?  Kiss sleep goodbye and spin that hamster wheel, baby!  Spiritual life?  All boxes checked and organized alphabetically, thank you.

I had never encountered an obstacle that I couldn’t overcome simply by working harder.  And not only did I get the job done, I did it with flair.  So help me, my performance was going to be as good as (and hopefully a far sight better) than the people around me!  You see, there was a twisted pay-off for all that hard work:  approval.  The better I was, the more people thought well of me, and I soaked up that approval like a thirsty camel in the desert.  This system worked well for me for many years.  And then I had a baby.

Have you ever noticed that God custom designs a personal boot camp for all of us?  Whatever your particular weakness may be, you can bet that God will design a set of circumstances meant to chip away at it.  So, if you were God, and you had to deal with shaping the character of a perfectionist, into what circumstances would you plunge her?  Hmm…something that’s the very opposite of clean, neat and tidy…something that’s messy, nebulous and difficult for her to get her arms around...the situation should last for a number of years so she can’t just grit her teeth and wait it out…something that’s absolutely impossible to get perfect no matter how hard she tries, but important enough that she feels deeply compelled to try…I’ve got it!  Parenting!

When I was pregnant with our oldest daughter, I had a recurring daydream in which I liked to indulge:  I pictured myself sitting in a comfy rocking chair, positioned just perfectly in front of a south-facing window so as to allow a beam of smooth, buttery sunlight to fall gently on my shoulder.  My beautiful infant is at my breast, snuggled up in a soft, fuzzy blanket, tiny fingers curled around a single finger of my own, gazing into my eyes with utter contentment as she fills her little tummy with milk.

(Cue record needle scratch…)

My little 6 pound 12 ounce baby was absolutely beautiful, and we did own more than one soft, fuzzy blanket, but that’s precisely where the daydream ended.  For the record, there is no beam of smooth, buttery sunlight coming through the window at 2:00 in the morning.  Duh.  And my child did not serenely dine at the breast.  She guzzled like a sailor in a bar for about three minutes flat, refused to drink one drop more, and then spewed that precious milk at high velocity toward the carpet.  Bless her heart.

A lactation consultant at the hospital (Lord, forgive her, for she kneweth not what she was doing) determined that my baby was not eating for a long enough duration of time.  I was too naïve to know that I could have, and should have, pushed back.  She put us on a handy-dandy feeding schedule that looked like this:  wake the baby up every three hours to breastfeed for as long as we could manage (this involved at least 45 minutes of hopelessly prodding our infant to eat when she had fallen deeply and utterly asleep after the first 3 minutes of drunken guzzling); then, use a breast pump to extract the remaining milk; finally, attempt once again to interrupt the unconscious slumber of the infant and finger feed her (with a syringe and tiny tube) the remaining milk.  The lactation consultant forgot to mention the step where the baby throws up all the milk you just spent an hour and a half cramming into her stomach.

This was an around-the-clock schedule.  By the time I had accomplished all the steps, cleaned myself up, and lied awake in bed convincing myself that I was surely going to be the cause of our precious baby’s starvation, I only had about 30 minutes to sleep before getting up and doing it all over again.  I was exhausted, I was scared, and I was slipping.

(to be continued here)

Truth & Questions

My husband and I were discussing some current events earlier this week. We were commenting on how they relate to a moral issue that we feel strongly about--an issue that is quite polarizing in our culture.  Our older two children were perceptive enough to pick up on our conversation, and our son, in particular, was very attentive.  As the conversation wound down, he quietly asked me a question--hesitantly, as though he feared it might be out of bounds:  "Mom, I totally agree with you and Dad and everything you said, but...have you ever wondered if you might be wrong?  I mean, I don't think you are!  But...how do you know for sure?"

Such an important, pivotal question.

I decided to pull a move out of Jesus' playbook and answered his question with one of my own:  "How do you know, son?  How does a person search out what is true?"  The mention of truth jogged something in his mind that we've taught our children since they were very small.  There is only one place to find truth, and he knows where it is.  "Well, you would look in the Bible, Mom, to see what God has to say about it."

Bingo.

"That's right, bud.  We always need to consider the possibility that we might be wrong.  And we find the truth by searching God's Word.  Your Dad and I have done that on this issue, and we believe that what God has to say is very clear.  I'd be happy to show you those passages so you can see for yourself."  "Yeah, that'd be good," he replied.

As a parent, there is a small part of my heart that skips a beat when my children question our beliefs like this.   Are they approaching ground where even angels fear to tread?  What if they start questioning and never stop?  What if they question, reason, and come to the wrong conclusion?  Yikes!  But a much larger part of my heart argues back:  Your fear implies that you, yourself, somehow control the faith of your children--that the determining of the convictions of their hearts lies within your hands.  Rubbish!

It is my job as a parent to present the truth to my children--consistently, authentically, clearly, and with conviction.  It is also my duty to fervently pray that they walk in it.  It is the job of the Holy Spirit to convince them of the veracity of that truth and to lead them to a point where they choose to base their entire lives upon it.  The Holy Spirit will not do my job, and I cannot do His.

I have come to believe that my children's spiritual maturity hinges upon them considering the possibility that what their parents believe is dead wrong.

My heart beats faster to even put that in print.  But what other way will it ever become truly theirs?  I don't want them to have my faith, I want them to have their own.  To fear the wrestling process they will undergo as they work out their faith is to presume that God's grace doesn't reach far enough to capture them.  Foolishness!  It is God who leads us to repentance; it is God who draws us to Himself; it is God who fashions our hearts individually.  He's got them, questions and all.

God commands us to teach our children His truth--to talk about it when we sit down, when we walk along the way, when we lie down and when we rise up.  To the best of our ability, we have done this.  We continue to do this.  But reaching the deepest recesses of the heart?  That's God's territory.

So, go ahead and question, my children.  Wonder, ponder, wrestle, debate.  And in your wrestling, seek truth in the one place it is always found:  the Word of God.

"Sanctify them by Your truth.  Your word is truth."

~John 17:17

Grace Sufficient

Thick darkness creeps in
While the night rests still
Slinks up the stairs
Around the corner to her bedroom

It reaches up while she sleeps
And with cold fingers
It finds its place deep in her brain
And closes its grasp

Confusion falls like a cloud
Feeling fades away
Until limbs lie numb and useless
She cries out for help

Husband holds her close
Tries to understand
But words won't form
The darkness has claimed her prisoner

With heart pounding
He carries his bride
Out into the heavy night
And races toward answers

Doctors and machines
Spin in a blur around her
And they name the darkness:
“Stroke”

Deep in its prison
She remains captive
Mind and body held
By heavy chains

She knows enough to know
That she is prisoner
And fear comes to join her in her cell
An unwelcome guest

Daughter comes in the morning
Searches through the bars and chains
Looking for the mother she loves
But cannot find her

Grief binds itself to the Daughter
Settles into the vacant spot
Left by what is lost
And begins to sing its dirge

It visits the Husband also
Sings him its dissonant song
Breaking his heart
And crumbling his strength

In the unknown fog
It binds them together
Father and Daughter
Wrapped in strange chords

They reach together
For Grace Sufficient
And He comes to them
As He always does

And through the gray tones
Sung by grief
He sings a new song
A melody of joy

Each day brings new hope with it
The prisoner breaking free
Little by little
Chain by heavy chain

Her mind is freed first
Husband and Daughter rejoice
They have found
The woman they love

Her body comes slowly
The chains pull so heavy
She works with courage
Against each gripping link

And while Grace Sufficient
Holds her in His arms
She claims victory
One slow day at a time

A breath of fresh grace

I love to read. I've always got a book of some kind lying dog-eared on the couch. Well, let's be honest...usually two or three! I bounce back and forth between reading relaxing, small-town, those-were-the-days kinds of fiction, and reading Christian non-fiction by great authors who help me understand how to live out what I believe. This week it's been non-fiction, and do I ever have a book recommendation for you!

Grace-Based Parenting by Tim Kimmel

If you're the kind of person who has a naturally relaxed view of life, feels self-confident in your decisions, easily lets yourself and other people off the hook, and doesn't have a propensity toward hyperventilation, you may walk away from this book saying, "Well, DUH!!"

However.

If you're the kind of person who has the tendency to view things as black-and-white, battles a slightly elevated fear of failure (ahem), leans - just a tidge - toward perfectionism (double ahem), and whose husband may or may not have to occassionally hand you a paper bag to slow your breathing...this book will bowl. you. over.

Oh my.

Grace is just one of those things that I deeply appreciate about God, but have such a hard time getting my heart wrapped around. It's also a very hard thing to pour out until you've fully absorbed it yourself. You know how we all have "issues" that we don't want to dump all over our kids, but if we're not careful we do it anyway because it's just our default mode? Yeah. This is one of mine. Lovely, I know.

Anyhoo, this book was such a breath of fresh air. A strong encouragment to me of the way that things can be - the way they really should be. I read it straight through in a day and a half because I couldn't put it down. I'm going to read it again at a slower pace with my man. I told him that I wanted us to read it together so that we would be unified in our ideation.

He said that ideation wasn't a word.

I said, "Look it up, pal."

He did.

I was right.

You'd think he would be used to that by now. Silly fella.

That's OK, I think I'll give him some GRACE!!

One Thousand Gifts

One of the blogs listed on my sidebar is called A Holy Experience. It's written by a woman named Ann Voskamp. I happened upon her site as a result of reading (In)Courage - a website designed for women that features daily inspirational writings by various Christian authors. Ann is one of the featured authors. Her writing is...amazing. There's really no other way to say it. Her words touch my heart and her life inspires me. As well as her daily musings, Ann's blog also features an ongoing list of gifts that God has brought into her life for which she is thankful. She initially made the goal of reaching one thousand gifts on her list. Once she got there, the experience had changed and blessed her so much that she decided to keep right on going! Her example encouraged other women to do the same, and the Gratitude Community was born - women who have each begun the journey of making a list of one thousand (or more!) gifts that have passed from the hand of God into their lives. Blessings, whether mundane or miraculous, that speak of God's love and grace. I've decided to begin my own list of God's gifts to me. Surely, one thousand is just a drop in His divine bucket. Some of the gifts I list will seem insignificant - just small earthly things that bring me pleasure. Others will be important and obvious - gifts that are foundational to my life. Both kinds come from His hand. He is the Giver of all gifts, and they all are given to bring Him glory. It has always been my tendency to live for tomorrow. I look forward, plan forward, live forward. It is my prayer that creating this list will help me to slow down and notice the present; to see, acknowledge, and give thanks for the blessings of grace that God continually pours into my life - both the whispers, as well as the thunder. May your heart also turn upward as you read...

 #1. Jesus Christ, my Rock and my Redeemer

#2. My precious husband, my soul's mate

#3. My oldest daughter, my pearl beyond price

#4. My only son, my soul's pride

#5. My second daughter, delight of my heart

#6. My youngest daughter, my treasured joy

#7. My father, shining beacon

#8. My mother, unfailing love

#9. My father-in-law, unshakable strength

#10. My mother-in-law, quiet selflessness

#11. Sweet days alone with my wonderful husband

#12. Children cared for by loving grandparents

#13. Future dreams, shared over dinner

#14. The sound of fall beneath our feet, as we shuffle and crunch down a country path

#15. Patches of sunlight through a golden autumn canopy

#16. The colors of fire contained within a single fallen leaf

#17. Shared excitement, my husband and I, at being the only two people alone in a movie theater. Should we make out?! Then secret, gut-bursting giggles as one elderly couple shuffles down the aisle (2 minutes before the show) and sits right behind us. Oh well!

#18. A family walk to the park, children hand-in-hand with grandparents

#19. A heaping bowlful of cinnamon ice cream

#20. Long-distance phone call ~ grandmother yearning for grandchildren

#21. Gifts from grandparents, lovingly chosen for each child

#22. A steaming cup of hazelnut-creamed coffee

#23. The forced slowness of sick days from school

#24. Medicine that brings relief to feverish little eyes

#25. A small one's voice, “Mommy, snuggle with me”

#26. Practicing a piano duet with my oldest daughter

#27. Sitting next to my son on his corduroy bedspread, backs leaned up against pillows, listening to him read

#28. Sweet, perfect, four-year-old toes

#29. My little girl's cowlick that matches my husband's

#30. Leaves falling in an autumn shower

#31. An unsolicited hug from my son

#32. The scent of my husband as he hugs me close

#33. The taste of a perfectly ripe pear

#34. Long, laughter-filled phone call from a dear friend

#35. Bare naked little tushies that dart from the bathtub to the bedroom for jammies

#36. Tickle fights on the floor that leave children breathless

#37. My son's one-sided dimple

#38. The peaceful calm when the last child's door closes for the evening

#39. Wafts of cinnamon and nutmeg from flickering candles

#40. The toasty glow of the family room fire

#41. Nightly Star Trek ritual

#42. Sounds of wind howling outside, while I'm snuggled deep in fluffy covers

#43. Fresh sprinkling of morning rain

#44. God's mercy that rains new every morning

#45. The eager forgiveness granted by my children when I've acted rudely

#46. A little one's glinting eyes, daring me to chase her

#47. A handwritten note, lovingly left on my pillow

#48. Visible glimpses of the Holy Spirit's touch in the heart of my oldest daughter

#49. Giant clumps of snowflakes, tumbling to the ground

#50. Pine branches bent down under heavy weight

#51. Branches full of icy red jewels

#52. Concerned phone call from a friend, “Drive safely on icy roads”

#53. After-school snowball fights

#54. Four angelic faces asleep on fluffy pillows

#55. Extra time to sleep in

#56. Crystal-blue sky

#57. Packaging nourishing meals for needy children with my two oldest daughters.

#58. Eager eyes and hands pouring cupful after cupful of soybeans into life-giving mix

#59. The cool, fluid feeling of a deep bucketful of dry rice

#60. Tens of thousands of boxes of much-needed meals packed up and ready to go in just two hours time. This is what it is to be a part of the body of Christ.

#61. Caring husband, quietly folding laundry

#62. Selfless husband, shelving clean dishes

#63. Bouncing pigtails

#64. My little girl's lisp

#65. A piece of heaven in a church choir

#66. Faithful believers martyred for their faith

#67. Scent of cinnamon rolls floating from the kitchen

#68. Husband's funny antics

#69. Great clearance deals

#70. Brother-sister best friends

#71. Oldest girl reading a story to an attentive baby sister

#72. After dinner praise: “Thanks, Mom, that was good.”

#73. Little voices reading family night Bible verses

#74. Four funny faces carved in four plump pumpkins

#75. A dear friend's birthday

#76. Gifts of God's grace, wrapped in packages of friendship

#77. Weekly clinking of children's quarters into the offering box

#78. Small circle of mothers' heads bowed, lifting school children in prayer

#79. A look at the world through four-year-old eyes in a game of “I Spy”

#80. Wonderful school full of learning and fun

#81. Wise school teachers who study their students

#82. Morning prayers at school curbside

#83. End-of-the-day chats on the way home from school

#84. Gracious gift of motherhood

#85. Chubby little girl thighs

#86. Hairspray

#87. A six-year-old's hug when I'm sad

#88. An unexpected family dinner out

#89. Fact: PMS does not last forever

#90. Diamond dewdrops

#91. Daily invitation to the throne of God

#92. The blessing of being needed

#93. Children's bodies that are healthy and strong

#94. Daily bread and much to spare

#95. Sound of washing machine swishing away dirt and grime

#96. Spacious home, far beyond our needs

#97. Selfless husband, tirelessly providing

#98. Husband's career ~ given and blessed by God

#99. Luxurious vehicle to transport our family circus

#100. The wonder of bleach

#101. Frost-covered valleys

#102. Shimmering white tassels gently blowing in the breeze

#103. Husband who sees through the eyes of grace

#104. Observant son lending a helping hand

#105. Joyful elderly man who safely shepherds school children across the street

#106. Raindrops slowly trailing down windows

#107. Pitter-patter sound of rain on the roof

#108. Family-traditional angel food birthday cake

#109. Sibling fits of giggles

#110. High-tech gadgets that make my life easier

#111. Giggles of sleepover fun

#112. Two young women, daughter and friend, sharing morning prayers

#113. The glow of bare trees in the setting sun

#114. Full moon in Halloween sky

#115. Small costumed children with bags held wide for yummy treats

#116. Hot apple cider against autumn night chill

#117. Silly mouths full of prankster fake teeth

#118. Young, strong grandparents who romp with their grandchildren

#119. Laughter-filled card games

#120. The two-toothed grin of an 8-month-old baby as her big, blue eyes look into my face

#121. Home-made pizza with friends

#122. Ten fluffy, white puppies nestled in straw

#123. Contact lenses that allow me to see

#124. Small group of 4th grade girls hiding God's Word in their hearts

#125. Little hands constructing bluebird boxes

#126. Ministry partners who are a delight to work with

#127. A giggling rap band in my backseat

#128. Pink and blue sunset that reminds me of the day I fell in love

#129. Big girl who still grins when her pigtails are pulled

#130. Weekend conference that re-ignites passion and energy

#131. True friends who see my issues and love me anyway

#132. Husband who gladly sacrifices time and freedom

#133. French silk pie

#134. Little hands washing the truck with Daddy

#135. Servant heart of my oldest daughter

#136. Giant sunflower faces

#137. Daily football game, son and 2 friends

#138. Family nature hike learning about God's creation

#139. Home-made lefse

#140. Sunlight glittering on a pond

#141. The abundance of love that causes December calendar pile-ups

#142. Godly mentors

#143. Daughter's hands knitting

#144. Four believing parents - what a legacy!

#145. Spiritual dry that reminds me to thirst

#146. Crocheted snowflakes

#147. God's merciful hand that shielded the lives of my life-long friend and her two children in the crash that could have easily been fatal

#148. A dear great-aunt who left the shadow of this life to step into the brilliant presence of God

#149. The joy of warm parent fellowship

#150. Mother and daughter music, made together

#151. The adorable puppy we excitedly wait for

#152. Twinkling lights

#153. Warm ginger cookies

#154. Friends that might as well be family

#155. A husband's patient forgiveness

#156. A mentor's faithful example of selfless sacrifice

#157. Immanuel, God with us.

#158. Forbidden giggles

#159. The quiet still of afternoon naptime

#160. Daily safety of those I love

#161. Husband's unshakable strength

#162. Presents under the tree

#163. Skipping 4-year-old who follows me all around the house

#164. Music

#165. Thick layer of sparkling, untouched snow

#166. Brother who slows his steps to wait for his sister

#167. A friend who asks, "How can I help?"

#168. The promise of heaven

#169. Text messages from my hubby

#170. Icy frost like blades on branches

#171. Winter birdsong

#172. Flawless blue sky

#173. Sitting, no coat, on the sunny deck in the middle of February

#174. Golden companion who blissfully ignores all my faults

#175. Looking at a new house and realizing how much I love the old one

#176. A friend's reflective words that sound like God's voice in my soul

#177. The eighth birthday of my precious son

#178. Windows full of peanut butter fingerprints and doggy tongue streaks, that give evidence to my wonderful life

#179. A walk in the dark morning hours, silent but for the quiet jingle of dog tags

#180. A daughter sharing her faith without fear

#181. House bursting at the seams with 12 good friends and our 20 kids

#182. An invitation to share what I'm passionate about

#183. Pine cars, race track, excitement and bad popcorn

#184. Tears of disappointment that teach important life lessons

#185. Warm, furry muzzle asleep on my feet

#186. Daily manna

#187. A promised date with my Valentine

#188. Giggling kids who plan out the ultimate romantic date for their mom and dad: dinner at the Diamond Castle, dancing, and going to see the movie "Up"

#189. The mug of hot chocolate that now sits next to my mug of coffee each morning because my daughter decided to begin having her own daily quiet time with the Lord

#190. The increasing number of freckles that dot my son's nose

#191. Quiet words whispered by the Holy Spirit

#192. An unsuspecting friend at the door who finds me a mess and takes off her shoes to lend a helping hand

#193. A tired husband's loving hands that unload the dishwasher...just because

#194. The slow tick of the clock on a lazy afternoon

#195. A new camper: over-the-top blessing!

#196. Barefoot giggles - first night in the "bunkroom"

#197. Puppy's unbridled joy as he bounds unhindered through the woods

#198. God's awesome creative work hidden in a cave 100 feet underground

#199. Dutchmen's britches, hung out to dry

#200. Candlelight on a Tuesday evening

#201. Closed apple blossoms like rosebuds

#202. Unfurling hosta

#203. Sleepy ferns, stretching awake

#204. The body of Christ: weeping, praying and rejoicing together - united

#205. The beauty of a believer yielded in suffering

#206. Grace greater than all my sin

#207. A Father's obsessive love

#208. Friends who listen and share conviction

#209. Joyful smiles on those who minister

#210. Familiar faces in a new place

#211. Peony blooms - big, fluffy, soft pink and fragrant

#212. Sigh of a dog who plops down, carefree

#213. Plenty to share

#214. Shutter and lens that capture life

#215. Card games on Saturday nights

#216. The Holy Spirit, palpable, in a roomful of children seeking His face

#217. A young boy, bent low over his Bible, deeply absorbed in a chapter of Scripture that no one told him to read

#218. A group of three girls, huddled together around a table, heads bowed, eyes closed, lifting each other up in prayer

#219. A youth leader, transparent, who shares his past failings so that the kids he shepherds can learn from his mistakes

#220. A crew of kids, learning to lead worship, who begin the week embarrassed and shy, and end it raising the roof for God

#221. My own daughter, glowing, as she learns to use her gifts

#222. A teenage boy who, quite against culture, has gotten over himself and decided to use his gifts fully for the Lord

#223. A handful of young girls who get so fired up about studying their Bibles that they go home and start right away

#224. Young hands serving others - learning to be selfless

#225. A group of adult women with different gifts, different personalities, different ages, who God has brought together and pieced together to make an impact on His children. Parts of His Body fit into a whole

#226. The privilege of being used by God

#227. God's grace in my mom's stroke

#228. All the many ways it could have been so much worse

#229. High-quality medical care

#230. God's healing touch

#231. Tremendous and undeserved support of friends

#232. A best friend hug in card-form

#233. S'mores with Reece's peanut butter cups

#234. Lingering campfire smoke on sweatshirts

#235. The sound of rain on the camper roof

#236. Late night games of Dutch Blitz

#237. Laughing so hard I cry

#238. Two Daddies rustling up mischeif and looking just like their two sons

#239. Love letters from my kids

#240. Fresh new ideas that change my state of mind

#241. A hubby who knows how to fix everything

#242. Sweet surprises

#243. Those who take time to read my heart

#244. Time alone

#245. Seven candles on a birthday cake

#246. Dinner out

#247. A freezer too full

#248. An evening swarm of dragonflies by the hundreds

#249. Daddy leading 4 littles safely through dangerous current. They make a line, hand-in-hand, the littlest in his arms. They follow their Daddy and my heart squeezes tight as I realize that I am watching a living metaphor for their lives - he leads through danger, and they trustingly follow, holding on to one another for strength.

#250. A mother and father-in-law leading us in devotions over a camping breakfast

#251. Two of my children innocently and boldly asking a man - do you believe in Jesus? Their hearts don't pound - they feel only concern for his life.

#252. Watching my dog on a long hike through the woods - tearing down the trail, crashing through brush, treeing squirrels, barking crazily at a poor turtle who refuses to tree, circling back to check on all the kids, plunging in the river and back out again, panting tongue and ears flapping wildly - can a dog's life ever get better than this?

#253. Butterflies on thistle

#254. Deep woods beauty

#255. Peeling birch bark

#256. Sunlight dancing on water

#257. Fluffy new towels

#258. Lunch and laughter with a friend

#259. Returning to the places I loved as a girl

#260. That Fall Lake rock

#261. Six of us in a canoe

#262. Loon call at dusk

#263. Sunlight sparkles on water

#264. The sound of the wind through birch leaves

#265. Skipping rocks

#266. The freckle on my little girl's foot

#267. My mom's bravery

#268. Traveling far enough to really see the stars

#269. Aged trees

#270. The dog endlessly plunging off the dock to fetch sticks

#271. Funny boy pranks

#272. Sweatshirts that smell of campfire smoke

#273. Embers that glow late into the night

#274. Beauty that grows wild

#275. Four soapy little heads bobbing in the water

#276. Generations sharing memories

#277. The magic

#278. Little girls forming clubs

#279. Husband who always puts his family first - always

#280. Toys hiding out behind my coffee pot

#281. Fresh, cool breeze through the open bedroom window

#282. Kids who forget what they're saying in the middle of a sentance

#283. The Hound of Heaven

#284. Little-girl-turned-young-woman crawling under the covers to read with me

#285. Sunsets painted in neon color

#286. Huge moon hung low in the night sky

#287. Great shoes on clearance

#288. A new job with new opportunity

#289. Extra time with my hubby

#290. First day of school with no tears

#291. God's answers to prayer for ministry needs

#292. Crisp autumn air

#293. A brand new freezer

#294. The regained health of a friend

#295. A night out with my girlfriends

#296. French silk pie!

#297. Kid sneezes full of abandon and gusto

#298. The fresh start of another year

#299. Freshly cleaned carpet

#300. Sleepy, small-town stories

#301. The slow reveal of God's work in my heart

#302. An unprompted apology from my son

#303. The peace that transcends all understanding

#304. NyQuil and Puffs Plus

#305. Hot showers

#306. A beloved uncle who fights for his life

#307. Grandparents who create once-in-a-lifetime memories

#308. An imaginary train that chugs down the street at top speed - big brother engine and baby sister caboose

#309. Four kiddos, packs on backs, walking up the school sidewalk together - inseperable

#310. Youngest daughter, in candy-cane striped PJs, who climbs into my lap to watch Saturday morning cartoons

#311. An attic full of hand-me-down kids clothes

#312. Pulling out the autumn decorations


#313. A new Yankee candle

#314. Medical insurance

#315. The dog with his head out the car window - lips flapping and ears inside out

#316. A cozy, late afternoon thunderstorm

#317. Reading with my middle daughter under warm blankets

#318. A second pot of coffee

#319. Another chance to share the gospel with a group of kids

#320. Fresh flowers in bright fall colors to warm my kitchen

#321. Tobias

#322. Little girl bedtime prayers

#323. The opportunity to help

#324. A little boy who loves the smell of oil and gasoline

#325. A Sunday afternoon ride on my motorcycle

#326. Kid-invented jumprope harnesses that haul friends up trees

#327. An afternoon nap in the sun on my front bench

#328. A new car that sips gas instead of guzzling it

#329. Autumn leaves that show their true colors

#330. The opportunity to volunteer in my children's classrooms

#331. New links to old friends

#332. Unconditional love

#333. Matchless grace

#334. Whatever else I may or may not be, this one thing I know: I am His

#335. A son who is willing to do ridiculous things in the name of humor

#336. Songs made up by my 5-year-old

#337. Colorful leaves heaped in a pile

#338. The opportunity to bring a little cheer to someone's day

#339. A long string of perfect, sun-filled, autumn weather days

#340. Lessons in humility

#341. An idea come to life in an unplanned way

#342. Morning kisses on my cheek at the curbside

#343. Little feet, and big ones too, shuffling through billowing piles of leaves

#344. The ring of autumn blaze that surrounds a neighbor's yard

#345. McDonalds lunch dates with my baby girl

#346. Freshly cleaned windows

#347. A Chinese take-out date with my hubby after the kids are in bed

#348. Bible study on the front bench

#349. Gooey caramel apples

#350. Barbecue lunch with good friends

#351. Candles morphing as they melt

#352. Sufficient grace for each day's assignment

#353. Family members that drop everything to meet needs

#354. Friends who have great ideas

#355. Husband who's not fazed when he comes home and I don't have my act together

#356. Sounds of fusball from the basement

#357. Lessons in flexibility

#358. Lessons in trust

#359. My husband sharing a piece of his heart

#360. The God who sees, hears, and answers

#361. A little boy in Cambodia who's become a part of our family

#362. A rowdy pool game of Marco Polo

#363. An unexpected break

#364. Skipping through the parking lot with my daughter

#365. A brave little girl named Chloe, and her amazing parents

#366. "God-incidence"

#367. The beauty of words

#368. Pancakes and bacon on a rainy morning

#369. Four kids who are their own built-in party

#370. A new stage of life where I spend the kids' dentist appointments casually reading a magazine in the lobby

#371. Husband who willingly gives of his time so I can go play with my friends

#372. First snowfall

#373. Bath & Body Works deliciousness

#374. My kids lovingly wrapping gifts for kids in need

#375. A woman's painful testimony that makes me hug my husband tight and whisper, "Thank you."

#376. A delicious home-cooked meal served up to me with a big side dish of love

#377. Truth: He's already won the battle!

#378. Shopping for special gifts for the people I love

#379. A husband who shoulders a world of pressure and still comes home with a smile

#380. Anticipation

#381. When the dog catches his tail

#382. Getting lost in a good book

#383. The bond of family

#384. A long Thanksgiving table full of family

#385. A chaotic game of spoons

#386. My mom's carrot cake

#387. Falling asleep to a crackling fire

#388. Parade lights, fireworks, and bundled children with rosy cheeks

#389. Caribou mint mocha that warms against the chill

#390. Kids huddled on curbside, sipping hot cocoa

#391. Laughing with our parents about traditions in the years to come

#392. Snapping in the branches and twirling the lights

#392. Christmas lights reflecting in my children's eyes

#393. Re-telling the stories of the ornaments

#394. Eggnog and fudge

#395. Old Christmas movies

#396. The real dog that now sleeps on my hearth

#397. Floppy bows made of grosgrain ribbon

#398. Whiffs of evergreen

#399. My 5-year-old's praise: You're the best mommy I ever had!

#400. My husband's arm around my shoulders in the church pew

#401. My son's belly laugh

#402. Family members who give me the cheesiest Doritos out of the bag

#403. Seat heaters

#404. Grocery store silliness with my baby girl

#405. Resting my head on my dog's fireplace-warmed fur

#406. Four distinct seasons

#407. The miraculous reunion of a broken marriage

#408. My kids who get excited about hand-me-down clothes

#409. A God who's not at all limited by human deadlines

#410. Snow swirling beneath street lights like a scene in a snow globe

#411. The kids and the dog romping in the freshly fallen snow

#412. My Knight in Shining Armor (Deut. 33:26)

#413. A daughter's questions from the backseat that teach me more than they teach her

#414. A Christmas Eve game of Family Feud

#415. A husband who delights in lavish giving

#416. Christmas night car ride - PJs and bare feet - to see the lights

#417. Tender gems of love that hang around my neck

#418. A father's loving hands that pain-stakingly fashion a toboggan for our family of six

#419. A cup of hot chai with a good book on my new Kindle

#420. The daughter who's blossoming before my very eyes

#421. Mother-daughter shopping sprees

#422. A peace-loving son who has eyes that see beauty everywhere

#423. Words to guide my coming year, gently placed in my heart by His Spirit: relationship; savor; abide

#424. A husband who listens, understands, and takes action

#425. Kids sleeping in late

#426. The brief moment in time when the house is freshly clean

#427. Friends who listen, care and encourage

#428. Popcorn, Twizzlers, and a card game of "Spite & Malice" with my hubby

#429. A day when the schedule unexpectedly evaporates and I'm left with nothing but time

#430. Slow time in His Word - being amazed by Him

#431. The power of His might that allows me to stand (Eph. 6:10-11)

#432. God-given rest

#433. An hour filled with chubby baby thighs and belly giggles

#434. Renewed clarity of purpose

#435. God's wisdom in only revealing one day at a time

#436. The joyful exuberance of a daughter who can't stand still during an awards ceremony

#437. God's use of my feeble words to touch hearts

#438. The one, true Author - the original writer of all the greatest words

#439. A small group of men who sacrificially serve with great integrity

#440. Sweet hour of prayer

#441. Approaching the Throne of Grace hand-in-hand with my husband

#442. His Word does not return void

#443. Two sisters, quite often at odds, walking out of school laughing together - the older with her arm around the shoulder of the younger

#444. My daughter's sweet words to me: "I like you!"

#445. My baby girl taking the trip of a lifetime with her grandparents

#446. Medicine that helps my son to breathe

#447. Childhood inquistiveness

#448. The daily miracle of God weaving His wonderful story out of a tangled pile of messy thread

#449. Single, tiny, perfectly-formed snowflakes falling on my window

#450. Brother giving his older sister piggyback rides around the family room

#451. Tumbles and laughter and the ever-present dog in the middle of the pile

#452. Daddy and kiddos carefully fashioning cars from blocks of wood

#453. My husband's smile

#454. Snowplows working hard to clear snow before first light

#455. The first low rumble and cool rush of wind from a great thunderstorm

#456. Two dear friends playing the part of an elderly couple still in love

#457. Dear friends for lunch, and more dear friends for dinner - a day full of fun!

#458. A good book on the front bench in dwindling afternoon light

#459. Kids pulling each other up the backyard tree with home-made rope pulleys

#460. Husband getting creamed in a one-on-ten basketball game with the neighborhood girls

#461. Milestones of maturity as my little girl grows into a young woman

#462. Fingers flying over keys after just two years of lessons

#463. Son bending low to speak tenderly to little ones

#464. Quiet evening at home

#465. Breakfast for dinner

#466.  Spires of firs

#467.  Swirls fading off canoe paddles

#468.  Smiling Daddies flipping squealing kids over in water-logged canoes

#469.  Reflections in water

#470.  Lily pads floating on glass

#471.  Peeling birch

#472.  The haunting cries of loons at dusk

#473.  Distant stones visible through crystal clear water

#474.  Tree root paths

#475.  The clunk of paddles into the canoe as stones skim bottom

#476.  Rolled up jeans and the ice cold chill of sandled feet piercing water

#477.  Deliciously chippy paint and how my husband always teases me for wrecking perfectly good stuff

#478.  Weeping willow trees that remind me of the one from my childhood

#479.  A perfect Autumn walk to start my week

#480.  Kicking through piles of fallen leaves with my dog

#481.  New habits

#482.  Never-ending access to the marvelous throne of grace

#483.  Early morning snuggles

#484.  The privilege of teaching young girls about the God who loves them

#485.  A new dishwasher!

#486.  The secret urge to skip and the joy of giving in

#487.  A toothless grin from my hospitalized grandmother

#488.  Lunch with my honey

#489.  Phone chats with my dad

#490.  Dear friend’s familiar doodles of patterned triangles

#491.  A real, live Christmas tree in my family room!  Re-living my childhood!

#492.  A new Christmas Eve tradition – letters of love exchanged between family members

#493.  Tears, laughter and memories flowing freely as words of encouragement, love and admiration are read aloud in the glow of the Christmas tree

#494.  My wide-eyed children soaking in what it really means to be a family

#495.  Christmas Day, just the six of us, pajamas and snuggles and no place to go.

#496.  My husband, the amazing gift-giver, who thrills at spoiling me rotten

#497.  The home-made traditions:  fudge, candy cane ice cream, and dipped ginger cookies

#498.  The Word made flesh to dwell among us

#499.  A holiday season with no stomach flu

#500.  My husband and I hooting and laughing so loud while playing a late-night video game on New Year’s Eve that we accidentally wake the children

Alone

Something stands out to me when I think about Good Friday from Jesus' perspective. He was very, very alone.

I hate to be lonely. I enjoy solitude well enough, but I don't like the feeling of truly being alone - I think it has something to do with the idea of identification. I don't necessarily need someone to be physically with me in a given moment, but I need to know that there are people who understand me...who connect with me...who live life on the same vibe I do, and who experience what I experience.

There were a lot of people around as Jesus walked the path to the cross, but He was very much alone. No one in the world could have resonated with Him in those moments. No one had ever done (nor will ever do) what He was about to do. The disciples were...somewhere else. Judas had completely betrayed Him, Peter had denied Him, Scripture doesn't even mention where the rest of them are. The closest was probably John. The gospel of John records that Jesus spoke, from the cross, to John and His own mother briefly. Matthew, Mark and Luke record that all His other followers and acquaintances were watching "from afar" or "from a distance." I imagine that most of His followers probably ran in fear. I certainly wouldn't want to be identified with someone who was being crucified!

Jesus' mother and His best friend tried their best to be there for Him, but is there any way that they could have understood what He was going through? I doubt it. There was no one there to truly share His pain, to share His burden, to lend support. The only One who could begin to understand would have been His Father. I can't imagine what it did to Jesus' spirit when the Father was forced to turn away as well.

Alone. Terribly, awfully alone.

Jesus was literally taking the weight of the world on His shoulders. He endured the wrath of God for our sin. No one else could do it. No one could help Him.

It strikes me from a spiritual standpoint. By all natural rights, I stand before the Father alone as well. I am blessed with more than one person in life who resonates deeply with me. People who really understand who I am, love me anyway, and live life on my vibe. They are Godly people, whose faith I admire. But not one of those people can stand by my side when I stand before God. Not my husband. Not my two dearest friends, who I count as sisters. Not any one of my four parents. I don't stand before God in the company of my church, or my Bible study. When God turns His eyes upon me and sees me for who I truly am, I stand alone. And it's not enough.

The beauty of the cross is that it shattered what should be. My alone-ness is part of the penalty for my sin that Jesus paid for that day. Jesus identified with me more deeply than anyone else ever could when He took my sin upon Himself and died in my place. He became what I should have been. No one on earth can stand by my side when I face God at the end of this life, but I will not stand alone.

"...we have one who speaks to the Father in our defense - Jesus Christ, the Righteous One. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins..." (I John 2:1-2)

Jesus stands before God in my place. And, unlike me, Jesus is enough.

Grace

Grace:

~favor bestowed upon one who is undeserving~

That He made me...grace.
That He draws me...grace.
That He loves me...grace.
That He saves me...grace.
That He sees me...grace.
That He hears me...grace.
That He speaks to me...grace.

That He shapes me...grace.
That He guides me...grace.
That He blesses me...grace.
That He troubles me...grace.
That He comforts me...grace.
That He sustains me...grace.
That He uses me...grace.
That He delights in me...grace.

That He reveals Himself to me...grace.
That He dwells with me...grace upon grace.

He is the Great I AM.
And I am the child of His grace.

A "sorta" snow day

You just have to love it when they cancel school before even one flake of snow falls, don't you?! Not that I'm complaining - we're very much enjoying the slow day around here, and I'm sure pulling off an early release after all the kids are at school and the weather turns bad is a major pain. I just think it will be really funny if the "big storm" misses us completely. :-)

Our "sorta" snow day got me thinking about how much "sorta" things rub me the wrong way. I'm a very black-and-white person...I hate the gray areas. Here are just some of the "sorta" things that bug me:

~"sorta" finishing a project. Running out of time to finish what I'm doing, or being interrupted in the middle of what I'm doing, can drive me near crazy. (My husband would say it's a short drive.)
~being "sorta" on time
~"sorta" knowing where I'm going
~"sorta" having a plan
~"sorta" responsible people
~"sorta" organized spaces
~things that "sorta" match
~"sorta" knowing the right answer
~being "sorta" good at something

If you knew how incomplete that list is for me, you would laugh your head off. Those are just some of the little petty things in life that I like to have in a row. There are all sorts of important ones that I don't feel like dumping on my blog. I like my life to fit into nice, neat spaces; all the loose ends tied up. I think it boils down to the fact that I hate to fail. Very badly. And having "sorta" in the equation at all just increases the chances that things aren't going to go the way I expect. And if things don't go the way I expect, then I can't control the outcome. And if I can't control the outcome...hoo boy, I really might...(gulp)...FAIL.

The bad news is, I don't think people tend to outgrow this neurotic tendency. Even worse, it's already a well-documented fact that I am a big failure on many fronts. It shouldn't surprise me any. The good news is, every single one of those failures was wiped out by the blood of Jesus Christ and replaced with His perfection. WHEW!! I like perfect!

Hmm...not sure how a "sorta" snow day got me all the way down that line of thinking. I'm guessing there's no rational explanation for how my brain works! Anyway, I hope you're enjoying your "sorta" snow day! :-)

**P.S. I no sooner hit the "publish post" button on this thing when it started to snow. Ha!! God's funny!**