God Never Will

"For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and who says to you, 'Do not fear, I will help you.'" -Isaiah 41:13

Love comes with a price. As C.S. Lewis said so well-
 “There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”  From "The Four Loves"

Yesterday I packed the first two boxes. I have been packing in my mind since August, not because I'm desperate to leave, but simply because I love packing. Yesterday I finally allowed myself to begin! We don't have a place to live in Three Hills yet, we don't even have a confirmed job for next year, but I am so excited to trust God. I know that He will come through for us in ways we could never imagaine.
Part of me is thrilled for this move, yet part of me is full of dread. Moving means leaving my girls. I have come to love and adore my girls. Both in Junior High and High School. They light up my week on Tuesday, Friday and Sunday nights and usually in between.

I just finished reading a chapter of the book "Amy Carmichael". For those who don't know that name I would highly recommend looking her up. For any of my girls reading this, you might remember me talking about her last year during Bible Study. She was a missionary in India in the early 1900's. She saved hundreds of Indian girls and this story is about one of them.

Arulai was a girl of eleven when she came to Amy to be taught about the Bible. Arulai's

father was pressured by relatives to forbid his daughter to go to Amy but he was tolerant and indifferent to it. Which is astounding considering Arulai's cousin was kept in the attic and tortured for wanting to learn the Bible. Once when Arulai was ill, Any came and nursed her and her father became even more tolerant of this English woman.

One day at Amy's bungalo Amy heard Arulai praying "Don't let me go back to the dark! Please Lord! Oh let me live in the light!"

Amy prayed for that as well.

But one day the Father came to the bungalow looking dejected. he said that Arulia could no longer see Amy. When her father reached his arm out to take her, it fell lifelessly to his side. This phenomenon happened several times.

"What is this? He asked finally. "It is as if my arm is paralyzed."

"It is the one Lord God of Heaven." Amy told him,

"He has marked this child as HIS."

Only God knows the number of tears and cries and "Do I have to leave them Lord?"s that have pierced His ears. He knows. Months ago He answered by informing me that 'He didn't need me."  Umm...what? Well that came as a shock, God, not needing me. Imagine.

He also put a face in my mind of my dear friend and I knew that He was telling me not to worry, that she would continue to love my girls and carry on the ministry. (I'll never forget how large her eyes became when I informed her of that!)

When I read that story of Amy and Arulai tonight, that statment of Amy's became my own. "He has marked this child as His." I pray that this world will have no hold on my girls because they are HIS. I pray that evil men will not be able to touch them because they are HIS. I pray that wherever these precious girls go they will know that THEY ARE HIS and He has marked them as His own.

The only reason I am able to leave them is because He never will.

My heart breaks with the knowledge that my time with these girls has a completion. I chose to not 'keep my heart safe' and for that I am vulnerable. Praise God!

So girls, know that I have you always in my heart and prayers. We still have till August together, so don't worry, you'll grow tired of me by then. If I had one thing to tell you from all of this, it would be that people, animals and possessions will leave you, God never will.

My Year of No Fear

I am about to share a journal entry of mine. Before you start saying "NO DON'T!" while shielding your eyes, just give me a chance. I promise you won't find out anything about me you don't want to know. Most likely...
This journal entry was written while Jordan and I were in Ontario this past summer.

July 4th 2012

"Somewhere along the way I lost it. I don't know how or where, I guess it happened in between barbie dolls and puddle jumping to makeup and hair curlers.

But lose it I did, I don't jump in puddles anymore, I tip toe across.

I don't slide belly first in the huge ones to see how far I can go.

I don't plop down in a pile of mud to make pies or throw them at unsuspecting brothers.
I don't even cartwheel anymore because there may be dog poo hiding in the short grass.

I totally lost it.

But today I decided to do something bordering on crazy. It may seem silly and small to most people but considering who I have become I'm surprised that I didn't get an applause.

 

We went to the lake again today. It was beautiful. The sand was soft as feathers and the breeze was gloriously present. When we arrived I had decided to sit and read the afternoon away, which is what I usually do, so I placed my towel methodically down, making sure no sand encroached on the fabric and sat down. I opened my book and settled in tight.

 

Everyone else went in the lake and I heroically told them that I would stay behind to protect their belongings. Mom came up a bit later and said "You can go on in now" and I don't know why but I closed the book and looked out toward the splashy four and decided to cancel my plans with my towel and join them.

Out I tip toed, tying my hair-dried ponytail high upon my head so it wouldn't get wet (how annoying is wet hair hey?!). I eventually went up to my neck as I swam toward them on the sand bar.

 

My sister in law who is part mermaid, was diving into the waves like a...mermaid...and I was jealous of how free she was. She didn't care about hair or sand, but I still consciously held mine above water.

 

Then it happened. I did it. I don't know why I did it, but somewhere in between throwing the Frisbee and stealing jealous glances at the mermaid while I carefully jumped over every wave, I did something I haven't done in years- I dove under the water. My entire head was submerged in lake water from who knows where with who knows how many bugs and fish twirling around me.

I came up laughing.

 

I splashed into a wave and dove under another. I let Jordan throw me into the water. I knelt down and allowed the waves to crash over my head.

I felt 8 years old again. I felt free. "I need this" I thought. I need to do the little things that scare me, to get dirty and wet and vulnerable. And then it came to me, I will.

 

I will allow myself to do all that. My year of no fear.

 

That doesn't mean I'm going to swim in a shark tank or lie in a bed of snakes, I'm not thinking of searching for the things that scare me most and doing them, but to take every moment as they come.

 

I'm scared of germs. I'm scared of of getting dirty. I'm scared of being alone. Of pain, of talking about God to unbelievers, of being vulnerable, of failing. I'm scared of shots, of counselling, of showing my husband how burdened and shameful I am. I'm scared of showing people who I am.

 

God showed me something this afternoon in Lake Ontario. He showed me how much fun I have when I let it all go and LIVE. When I decide that hair will get wet and water will get in my ears but who cares?

He reminded me of who I once was.

I am so ready to start this new dare from God."

Since I wrote that my life has been rocked to the core. God has shown us another path of ministry to take. Everything about my safe little world is threatened. "Missionaries? Ha ha. Funny God, nice idea. Oh...you're serious? But you know me. You know how unqualified I am."
Since I wrote that I have been presented with so many opportunities to choose fear, or life. I wish I could say I've chosen life every time, but my old nature loves to sneak up on me.

I'm writing this in my comfy little home surrounded by beautiful possessions that I will need to pack up and leave for at least two years. And you know what? I'm thrilled. Even though we have no idea what is next, we are taking active steps in God's direction and trusting HIM with our future. Radical idea hey?

At this moment I am too busy splashing into waves and coming up laughing then to be nervous about a little thing like 'our future' because we gave that to God separately when we were both children, and together, on June 18 2011.

Do You Remember Me?

There is one night of my life my memory does not live.
For some of you, that is a regular occurrence, I am sorry for that. For me, who only enjoys a Bailey's now and then, I have never experienced a night out of my reach where my memories do not fill.

I remember the horse was brown. I remember two of my Junior High girls riding behind and in front. I remember the night was crisp and I was wearing my new second hand brown sweater. I can see Jordan two horses ahead of me with our new camera snapping pictures of dozens of badlands.
He turned his horse around to bring me his coat and I snuggled in the warmth.
Night was setting in, dusk was enveloping us.

I woke up at 5:00am. I knew something was wrong but my brain had to catch up with my heart. I ached and I groaned. The only word that registered was -horse. I woke Jordan up beside me to ask the same questions I had been asking since 7:30pm but to remember them this time.

He told me I had forgotten him. When I reach back into that night I can see people surrounding me, the girls, my parents, our pastor, the doctor. My Husband was not there. But he was. He never left me. He called my name, answered my questions, held me, wiped my tears, answered the same questions again, told me they would not be 'poking me' at the hospital, carried me to bed and woke me to make sure I was still there.

How can I forget the one who calmed my fears and was my rock?

"Do you remember me?" He asked at 5:00am. I laughed not knowing how real his fear was.
"I remember you."

But my concussion quickly became the least of our worries. I walked around in a daze that week and the next, reeling from heart-pain I still don't know how to handle. Attacked.
I am sore and dizzy two weeks later but the heart-pain that hurts more than my aches remains.

All I can pray these days is "Jesus...the one you love is sick"
That is enough.

I am Mary hearing that Jesus has arrived and leaving the mourners to run to him. Martha and her had sent a note to him days ago with only these words "Lord, the one you love is sick." No other words were needed. Her brother was dying but she did not throw demands at Jesus, telling him exactly what He should do and when.

How often do I tell God I and others are hurting then explain to Him how I think He should help?

Her brother Lazarus died and when Jesus finally came, she got up immediately and ran to him."Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

These are my words to Jesus-
The two you love are sick. Heart-sick. And Lord, I am helpless. I am angry. I don't know how to make this go away. I used to protect them. I was fierce and relentless, I would have done anything in my power to make their lives easy. To make their lives good. I have battled for them, and lost.

"Do you remember me?" I don't laugh this time as the words come from somewhere within.

"I am the Alpha and the Omega. The Beginning and the End.

The Lord of Hosts. Comforter, Redeemer, Friend.

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

I bind the broken hearted and fiercely protect those who are My own.

I am the Mender. Saviour. Lover. Father to the Fatherless.

I AM."

 

"Do you remember me? I raised Lazarus from the dead."

 



 

I Want to Be Free

I feel like the weight of the world is all crashing down on me

Does a song ever smack you in the face with intense joy and wonderment? Does a song ever do this repeatedly?

And some how I just don't believe this is how it is supposed to be

They say music can reach farther than a word ever can. I believe who ever they are because this happens to me time and time again.

And all this expectation on the way I'm supposed to live

That's why musicals make so much sense to me! OF COURSE they are randomly singing the same song at the same time even though they don't know each other and have never learnt the song before! That is what life should be! I try this with my husband but we end up singing totally different songs and never start at the same time. He doesn't even fall in step with my movements.

Becomes my minds distraction with nothing left to give.

Does a song ever make you move? I don't mean 'make' in the sense that it's your choice, I mean MAKE you move. Your limbs can't help but do a little Shakira (as my friend Kristen does better than any white woman I've seen!), or a little arm wave and foot pop with your walker.

You said your burden is light and your load is no more,

I learnt dance at college and basked in the chance to explore in that area. Last night a song came on my playlist that I had created a solo dance for a few years ago, so I tried to show my husband what an amazing choreographer I was...I won't describe the scene as I fell incredibly short.

You said Your words are right and in You I will soar!

 Sometimes a song sneaks up on me that makes me burst into tears. Sometimes a song comes on that makes me bow my head and whisper the words as a prayer. Often a song comes on that makes me sing at the top of my lungs. Sometimes a song comes on that makes me run to close our curtains because I can't stop the brilliant movements that are coming!

"I want to be free
Free to dance and free to sing
Free to live and love and free
Oh, free to be me."

In every place I've lived till now I have happened upon a 'special spot.' My parents live right beside a train track and on the other side of the tracks was a small valley that I followed until I found a secluded area of bushes, a stream and beautiful quiet.

I feel like my heart is being beat down into the ground

In England I hopped a fence just feet from my room at the college, ran through a field of sheep, jumped another fence and spent hours in an enclosed Eden with a stream and trees upon trees.

In You I'm longing for some peace to be found.

In Austria there was a river not far from the school and I happened upon a perfect spot to be alone right beside the rolling waters.

I know the heaviness that's making me cold

At camp back home was another stream that I claimed as mine and at Rosebud I would sit on top of the train trestle dangling my legs over the Rosebud River.

Is stealing my youthful soul and making me old.

In every spot I would journal, pray, read and often sing. In those spots I was free. I was me. It was God and myself and He has no expectations for He knows me. He truly knows me. I am free in Him. With Him I can dance, with Him I can sing. With Him, I can live.
This one simple statement gave me so much comfort days ago- "He holds us in His arms."
When I think of that I don't see us as being stationary. Just like my dad can't help but spin me around and do a little jive whenever I am in his arms, I know that while God is holding me, we are spinning around a grand dance floor.

You said your burden is light and your load is no more
You said your ways are right and in you I will soar.
(Lyrics from "Free" by Shawn Mcdonald)

Soon

I would sit on your lap for hours. The creak creak of the rocking chair as you held me there. The smell of your skin. It was where I wanted to be. I told my brothers "She's MY Gramma." And you were. And you are. I don't remember a belly laugh, but I remember your giggles. When I visited you would buy every kind of fruit for me and giggle as I ate a whole watermelon. You held me as I cried after you let me watch Alfred Hitchcock's "Birds" and I bet you giggled after I finally fell asleep.

After a weekend with you when I was a toddler you handed me back to my Mom and said- "Well, she's potty trained!"

You travelled. You spoke of your travels. You taught me more of my Canadian history than any teacher. You painted. You loved puzzles. I cried into my pillow once when you left, begging God to bring you back. He did. And you giggled as I ran to you.

You told Jordan "Welcome to the family" long before we were engaged. You loved your children.

The last time I stayed with you we had the honour of sitting in on your devotions with Grandpa. You prayed for each of your children's family. Our family was Tuesday.

I am covered by your prayers.

You tied the bow for my bouquet as I walked down the aisle. You were so nervous you wouldn't get it right in front of the crowd. Once it was tied you breathed deep and giggled, I kissed your cheek and whispered that I loved you. I didn't have time to say that I hope to be half the wife you were to your first husband and second. I didn't have the time to say how honoured I was to have you as part of my legacy, my history. So I wrote it in a note instead.

You taught me how to glory in cooking. When something you cooked was divine you would voice it. "Aren't those potatoes tasty?" They were.

As I prayed on Wednesday, wishing I was beside you as you breathed, I listened to hymns and I pulled weeds. Flowers are poking up called "Grandma's Marigolds." You gave them to us in April.

You are in my garden.

I was surrounded by trees and people when the call came. It rained. I collapsed. Why is the now too soon? You loved to walk so I walked. And I marvelled in your life. I marvelled in our history together. My Grandma.

Even if I could beg God to bring you back this time I wouldn't. I am jealous of your new eyes. Your new arms that have held our Savior. I can hear you giggle together as you walk.

Jordan and I sang a song in church a few weeks before your beginning and I sing it now for you because your SOON is NOW.

I celebrate your life Wanda Evelyn Voth, you have given me breath, you have given me faith. You taught me what strong means by your wrestle with life.

And now, you are free.

Too Much

I cringe at the expectations placed before me.
I frown at the daily reminder of who I am now.
I beat myself up looking back over this year and reminding myself of my failures.

People say that "God will not give us more that we can bear."  They say it's in the Bible and I ask them where? The correct verse is-
1 Corinthians 10:13
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

He will not TEMPT us beyond what we can bear. But give? I look over the last year of my life and I know with certainty that God gave me much more than I could ever bear.
I look at the life of friends and their struggles. I hear stories of people being persecuted and killed in the name of Jesus. Not given more than they can bear? A cheating spouse, a broken heart, a cruel disease, the death of a child.

God is faithful. God is good.

So what do I believe then? I believe that God is God and He is to be praised. I believe that God reaches down and gives unexplainable comfort and release.

God carries my burdens. HE bears them. Not me.

And because of that I can rejoice in this burden placed on me. I can rejoice that those who look on my life or hear my story will be pointed to God and His incredibly mercy. For it's all about HIM. Not little me. He is the reason I can still smile, the reason I have joy, release and giggle uncontrollably at times.

My prayer for you reading this is that you place your burden that you cannot bear upon His large shoulders and watch what He does with it.

 HOPE

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson

Joy Found Me

The day never paused. There was no stopping it. I spun and I grasped and I begged to sit.

Where is my rest God?

It started early. The night before I lay awake thinking of all that would take place, not very huge and important things, but things that inter lapped and intertwined.

I named the day Stress.

I awoke and I groaned and I forgot to say good morning Lord. I went to work and I didn't spin with the Toddler or laugh until my sides hurt but I rushed. I rushed through breakfast. I rushed to the office with a little hand and little toys. Mojo's house.

I sat and then I stood. I walked then sat. I typed and talked on the phone and I stood and I rushed.

I ate in a hurry for there was a nap for him and work for me.

Youth group started before I was done work so I ran from the house when I could and jumped in the car. I drove to the meet place and I jumped from the car and into the van. And we drove. And I stressed and I groaned about not having any 'me' time. Drive through food. Calgary traffic. Roller rink.

I forgot my socks and had to borrow. I slipped on the blades and I skated real slow with two beginners at first, then alone.

I skated around and around and then it happened. I caught my breath and I smiled, then I giggled.

Joy found me.

Out on the roller rink with "Grease Lightning!" playing and bodies pushed in all around me so close.

Joy found me.

My husband skated by with a wink and I smiled. I truly smiled, all the way down to my heart.

Unexplainable. Totally weird. Joy.

That's my God. He takes a day never ending and touches my heart. Joy is not found anywhere else. Joy is only God. Happiness lasts for a moment but Joy is never ending. It is searching, always looking for His children to lavish on. There is no explanation. No reason. Just joy. Nothing about my day had changed. I was still frazzled. Still stressed. still tired. But out on that stinky, twirling floor with the bright lights and the deafening music, Joy found me.

Where has unexplainable Joy found you?

Legacy

"By your grace and promise, we refuse to let the enemy have any

of our beloved children."

I am reading my Grandmothers journal this morning. As the sun peers through my living room window, I trace a finger over the words I read and remember her touch, her smile. I remember her contagious laugh, the way she rocked back and forth in the rocking chair in our home. I can feel her hand on my forehead as she recited the blessing before I fell asleep all those nights.

"The Lord bless thee and keep thee:

The Lord make His face shine upon thee, 

and be gracious unto thee:

The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee

and give thee peace."

-Numbers 6:24-26

Tears come as I long to hear her high soprano voice filling whatever room she was singing in. I fell asleep for five years to the sound of her long graceful fingers dancing with her keyboard. I can't listen to a hymn today without hearing her voice.

She was a mother, a wife, a friend, a beloved daughter of the King, a writer, would rather clean than cook, a grandmother and a fighter. She fought for life and the pages of this journal I hold tell of her struggle and hope.

The greatest compliment I ever receive is "You remind me of your Grandma Callaway." My hero.

I have prolonged writing this post because I don't believe any words I write will ever do her justice. I know a grandchild thinks the world of their grandparents and is blind to their faults, but I cannot help knowing what I saw.

I saw a saint. I saw a warrior. I saw Christ.

My thoughts wander back to that last week of her life. She couldn't speak. Her lips were crusty. Her skin dry. She had stopped eating and drinking.
Nurses told me that she wouldn't be able to understand me or communicate. She could only move her neck and had to be turned over by nurses every hour. I knew it would be one of the last times I would have with her. I opened the hospital room door and peeked in. She was sitting in her chair, staring blankly into space. Gone were the words from her mouth. Gone were her active limbs and the contagious laugh. She didn't belong there anymore. I walked in and sat in front of her. She shifted her focus and smiled. She always smiled when she saw me, saw any of her children. I smiled back and knew that they were wrong, she could understand me. She was simply giving up, longing for her true home. This tower of faith who had struggled with depression her entire life was ready to hear the words 'Well done."
The tears came, she was so weak, so ready for heaven.
I was not ready to let her go.
I clung to her body and let the tears fall as she willed me to let go.

As I sat there by her wheelchair, grieving, this frail lady rested her head upon mine and as I looked up I saw tears falling down her immovable face and opening up her mouth a crack she whispered "Praise God from whom all blessings flow..." but that was as far as she was able to go.  
So with a trembling voice I sang the rest of the song as she hummed along, both of us allowing tears to continue there path.

She had never been more beautiful to me.

She was pointing me to the One who I would need to turn to every moment of my life. The One who opened his arms to her five days later, as I lay beside her on a hospital cot, fast asleep.

And today, as I read her words written with a passion so deep and alive for her children, willing that all would turn to Jesus, I praise God for my Grandma.

A New Journey

I closed the book and let out a sigh. How does one finish a book like this? I haven't finished it, it will be picked up again and again.

"One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. Thanks to my beautiful friend Kristen I stated a journey with this lady and her thankfulness a few months ago with her daily blog and now her book. Wow! If only I could write like her, could pen words like she does. She goes on a journey of thankfulness to find beauty and Christ in her daily life, and she does.


I close the book and I think of the walk I took that morning. The morning was crisp and the coat was zipped tight. My Marmee was by my side and I was pushing an empty stroller. The toddler was running ahead of me grasping a blue leash tight in his small fist. He was giggling. The 13 year old puppy was taking the 2 year old boy for a walk. We laughed as he looked back, pure joy streaming his face. Another squeal escaped and he was pulled along into the grass.


I close the book and I wait for the toddler to wake. We pull coats on again and open the door. I want to look, truly look for the blessings. An old man, stooped and bent, whistles loud and clear ahead of us as he walks. My hurried steps slow down to his pace, not wanting to miss. His melody is the same four notes, he whistles, looking left and right, up and down, taking in the world. Two boys in blue run across the road, one somersaults to the grass and the whistler pauses, looking at them. I see a grin on his wrinkled face and wonder what he is thinking, remembering. We pass a retirement home where the whistler stops his walk. As I walk by I see a man sitting in his chair with a cigarette, in goes the smoke, out comes the cough. I smile at him, wishing I could sit in the sister chair and talk away the afternoon. His story, his regrets, his love.

I think back to my week, three wonderful visits from friends in my little house in the prairie. Tea and talk, prayers and laughs.
I think of visits with my godson and his mother, my Jordan Ann, nothing is so humbling as knowing a girl since twirling dresses and paper dolls, and still have her love.
My husband, jumping out of bed every morning before me, sometimes making the bed over me to wake me. The joy and laughs he gives me each day, forgiveness. The times I've teased him and seen his mock scowl.
A journal sitting at home, with the start of my thank you scribbles.

I think of the two verses that God gave me this day-
"The LORD will fight for you, you need only to be still." Exodus 14:14
"...arise my darling, my beautiful one, come with me. See! The winter is past, the rains are over and gone." song of Solomon 2:10-11

They weren't verses I stumbled upon while reading the Bible, though that happens daily. They were verses GIVEN to me, spoken in the silence of my heart when I called out to Him. Words memorized years ago. And I am reminded to keep these words of the Bible hidden in my heart, pressed upon my soul, to memorize, to quote, God is near when I so desperately need Him.

The blessings have been there all the time, the whistler would have whistled, the somersaulter would have bounced back up, the verses would have stayed in the pages instead of my heart. But I looked, I sought, and I found.

I am being romanced by my Savior in this journey of thankfulness.

Later that night the rain falls on my upturned face

I say Thank You.

Beauty In The Ugly

I am starting a "Thanks Journal" today. Fitting don't you think? Good Friday, when my Lord stretched out His arms and breathed His last as a human man.
I am sitting on my bed drinking tea and listening to the sounds of my Husband with two boys from our youth group playing pictionary. One boy just yelled "JUSTIN BIEBER!" Then said "I can't believe I just said Justin Bieber."
Moments. My husbands deep laugh. The boys quiet giggles. Moments.

Children can't help but play outside today and I turn to the page in my journal that says "Things I have learned from children."
-Laugh until your sides hurt, then laugh some more.
-When a window is fogged up it is for painting pictures on with your finger tips.
- A dry tea bag smells so good, it needs to be passed around.
- When something needs to be said, say it!

Adults are roaming the sidewalks outside glancing at the small piles of snow that the sun graciously left behind. I think back to my grade 2 Teacher instructing us to kick the remaining snow on the sidewalks so that it melts faster. I kick snow every Spring.

I love these days of snow and sun, learning and failing, youth and games, tears and smiles.

These days of learning to be thankful.

Beauty in the Ugly.
Beauty in loving a man who drives me insane. Beauty in failing as a wife. Beauty in talking to aliens called teenagers who scare me to death. Beauty in teaching and loving these aliens. Beauty in tears. Beauty in seeing poverty. Beauty for friends in pain. Beauty for friends that succeed when I don't.
Beauty in an ugly, broken world and praising God for it.

Because that's exactly what He does isn't it? God finds every moment beautiful. He looks on this world and He weeps for His children, and He finds beauty.

He is thankful. Father God I am so sorry for the times I refuse thanks, refuse to look for the beauty. Please help me.

My Reflection

I never thought I would marry Prince Charming. I hoped upon hope that I would marry Mr. Darcy, but read the end of the book. Elizabeth stole him.

Who puts that dream of Prince Charming into a young girls mind? Who rips it away from her when she starts to grow and change? When her body isn't little and cute anymore and she has no idea what to do with the changes, the awkwardness happening?

Who is it that whispers into her ear "You will never be good enough for him." And why does she listen?

Then she grows up and into her body and is used to the new her, boys start to notice and little by little, her dream is replaced by flattery. By freckled faced boys who convince her that they are enough. And her Prince Charming reaches out His hand, unclasped.

It amazes me that I didn't give into them. That I was the one to write in my journal as a girl- Please Lord, help me to stay single till you are first in my life.
I probably added in my head, and make it quick OK?

I picture God chuckling and promising me that He would, but that it would be longer than I hoped it would be.
And He kept that promise. And I kept my promise, looking to Him and checking in every now and then to see if now was the time. Then when it was the time I went kicking and screaming, but I would have it no other way, it was His perfect timing.

I think of this when my husband whispers "You are beautiful" in my ear and I lift an eyebrow as if to say "I don't believe you, I've been told something different."
I think of this when I catch him looking at me, when I ask him why, he says it's because I'm his and he can't believe it.
I think of this when I still see that mischievous look in his eye before he scoops me up.

Love is terrifying and I am so new at it. I have known love for less than two years.
So when God was chuckling, He knew if He had given me the love of a man when I asked that I would not be ready. I would not be close to ready.

Because love is raw. Love is coarse. Love is absurd. Love is unforgettable.

Love is God.

And God has given me the love of a man. What we have is a reflection of God's love, a beautiful reflection but a reflection non the less. All we have to do is look up to see the real love story happening.

I went kicking and screaming into love, but because of Jordan's patience and heart, it didn't take me long to willingly embrace all that it was.

I think of this when I look back at God shaping and molding a little girl after His own heart.
I think of this when I remember how He held me when I was ready to throw it all away and He whispered "I love you, I love you, I love you." As sobs rocked my body.
I think of this when I shamefully remember all I have done against Him, and yet He calls me His beloved daughter.

This is love.

If We Are The Body

"I always wonder what I would do if I lived in Europe during that time. But then I remember that it's happening today, and I am doing nothing."

I whispered to my husband as we clung to each other.
Both rocked to our core by what we had just finished watching.
"The Courageous Heart of Irena Sendler."


A movie based on the life of Irena Sendler, a woman who was a Social Worker in Poland during WW2. Every day she would enter the Jewish Ghetto to bring food, blankets and medicine to the thousands crammed inside, thinking she was doing enough. Then one day she realized she wasn't, and she started to sneak children out one or two at a time.
She saved 2,500 Jewish children before being arrested. When she wouldn't give the Nazis the information they needed, they pulled her onto a table and started to beat her feet until she couldn't walk. The next day they would do that same. And the next.

What struck me the most is the faces of the two men who were holding her down while another beat her. After they were done, those two men would pull her down to her cell and throw her in.

Hatred.
Disgust.
Greed.
Anger.

That's all I could see on their faces. They enjoyed beating her, pushing her. My husband whispered "Those aren't men."
And he is right.

What man, what human being made by God let's themselves treat another human, a woman who is weaker and more vulnerable, a woman they are supposed to protect, with hatred and violence?

What kind of human being would stand by when they know that is going on?

Millions of Jews were murdered during the holocaust, the number is around 6,000,000.
Today, 27,000,000 woman and children are enslaved in human trafficking.

Did you think slavery was abolished by America's civil war? You would be wrong.

It's only grown.

But if we are the Body

Why aren't His arms reaching?

Why aren't His hands healing?

Why aren't His words teaching?

And if we are the body,

Why aren't His feet going?

Why is His love not showing them there is a way?

There is a way.

-Casting Crowns

If I say I am a Christ follower, then does that not mean I have an obligation to protect the weak? The hurting? To be His arms and feet to the lost.

When I think of someone hurting the girls in our Youth group, the precious boy I nanny, the kids I see playing around our town, I am filled with anger. I am filled with fear. I can not imagine that kind of evil, that kind of lust and greed.

And so I cling to God, I cling to His promises and I feel his urgent push, it's not so gentle anymore. How can I not do something?

Check out this site if you want to know more. http://www.thea21campaign.org/home.php

Are you going to be the one inflicting pain?

Are you going to be the one doing nothing when you know what's going on?

Or are you going to save lives?

Irena thought she was doing all she could, do you think that too?

Strangers...again.

"You keep me up at night so I'll talk to you, don't you?"

I say into the darkness. My husband is beside me, breathing steadily. He falls asleep so easily while I am left with my thoughts, and the darkness.

"Is it because that's the only time I talk to you?" This thought brings a tear that falls slowly down my face. "I'm sorry." I think about all the times I say that in a day. "I'm sorry Lord."

Then a familiar picture comes to mind, one that I have had pop into my head for years, one that I reenact and dream about time and time again.

It is my first moment in Heaven, thousands of people surround me and I gaze around in wonder. Then I see Him, Jesus, and I stop.
My mouth hangs open and I stare, dumb founded at Him. Then I see a silly, stupid, crazy, God-like grin spread upon His face and I run to Him. He grabs me and holds me tightly, like He never wants to let me go, like He has been waiting for such a long time. I cling to Him, knowing this is it, this is worth it all.

Then He laughs, a beautiful laugh that starts deep, deep inside and bubbles out, the most wonderful laugh I have ever heard. He swings me around and we both laugh and cry.
He looks at me and says "Welcome home."

And that's where it ends, there is no "Good and faithful servant." because I haven't deserved that yet. I mess up countless times.

I get angry.
I gossip.
I say no to God and His still small voice.
I am content with the mundane.
I waste hours on the Internet.
I don't do what I know I should.

And the list goes on.
I don't hear Him saying those words because I am only a little girl, who desperately tries to do what she can, what she has been taught. Whatever I do that's right is not to my credit, but only to God's. It is HIM in me that is beautiful, that is good.
He is who I will cling to when I enter Heaven, because it is His blood that has given me life, and life to the full. So I wait, and live in such a way as to deserve those words.

I tell him all of this as I lay there, listening to Jordan's breathing.

I tell my Lord all that I am thinking, I pray for my friends, for the girls in my Bible Study, that they will know they are beautiful and treasured, that God would be their comfort in this crazy adolescent time. I pray for the high school girls I recently met and was able to talk about purity with. I pray for a friend who lives in darkness, a friend who is struggling with committing all to God, wisdom for a friend in the midst of making a big decision. I pray for a friend who's birthday is tomorrow, a friend who just started a relationship, a friend who now has a new life of health after battling for years without it, a friend welcoming a baby in a few short months, a friend who longs to welcome a baby. I pray and I pray.

And then I stop, because something isn't right. "Oh shoot, I'm talking too much again, I'm sorry God, please speak to me." I say, all the while knowing that I can never stop talking or thinking long enough to hear Him, and yet He loves me still and finds countless other ways to speak to me.
But then it happens.

"Am I talking to you as if I'm a stranger?" I whisper.
"As if You are?"

Imagine, the God of the Universe, the God who created me in His image and has loved me through every moment, being a stranger. I felt like I had to introduce myself.

"I love you." I whisper.

And I see His silly, stupid, crazy, God-like grin, and I run to Him.

Crafts!!

I have a weakness. I have a lot of weaknesses, but I want to talk about this one in particular. CRAFTS! I would rather be doing crafts, making cards, scrap booking, painting, than almost anything else in the world!

My Husband is also very creative and constantly gives me ideas. Here is one of them that I made yesterday. I hesitate to post it because well, everyone else may think it's ugly but I decided to step out on a limb and do something scary! I try to do something scary everyday, here is today's.

I bought some bamboo at Ikea for $2.00 each and didn't want to buy more pots to plant them, so Jordan told me what i would need.

A yogurt container with lid, scissors, glue, thin rope or twine and potting dirt.

Not pictured- a laptop or TV with one of your favourite shows on, or favourite music playing.

This is a must.

Start by cutting off the top of the yogurt container, you don't have to, but I thought it would be easier. Then start gluing the rope or twine on to the top and keep going around in a spiral like motion. Ignore the wire, I was going to make handles but it didn't work. =)

Keep going...

And going...

...This is why you want the show or music, this craft takes a very long time.

Once it's completely covered with rope or twine, poke holes in the bottom and set it aside. Grab the yogurt lid and do what you want with it, I wrapped the rope around the outside.

Once the lid is finished, place the dirt inside and the plant. Before you water it (which should be right away) make sure the lid is underneath!

VOILA! Potted plants that cost less than $10.00! I know it's not the most elegant thing, but if you, like us, are trying to save money while decorating the house and having fun with it then I would recommend this craft!

Bamboo is a lot of fun and doesn't need direct sun light which is what we need in this house! Especially in the winter. I hope you enjoyed!

Complacency

"How did I get here again? Didn't I just leave?

I TOLD YOU I DON'T LIKE THIS PLACE.

Please, bring me back. Hello? Hello?! I know you're there, I can hear you. Why can't I understand you? I said I needed your help but not here. Please not here. It's cold, it's dark, and I'm all alone.

Will I ever escape? I don't remember how I did it last time, did I push down the walls? Did I run?
Think. Why did I end up here again?

Oh. Oh no. No please. I want to forget. Hello? Why can't you just talk to me? I know you can help, you could make this go away. It would be easier than breathing. I can't do it on my own. I don't want to even move. I was so happy before, for a little while. Wasn't I?

...No, it was complacency that I felt. But I was starting to feel better, I was starting to smile, to think of other things. I even laughed. Really laughed. Do I have to fake that again? I know in You I have freedom, but bondage is sometimes easier to bear.

Did you hear that? Do you hear me? What's happened to me?

I used to be so free, so protected. I used to go to sleep at night knowing I was safe, knowing I had no burdens to bear. Do you remember me twirling in my living room dressed all in pink, pretending I was a ballerina? Dancing. But I wanted to grow up, I wanted to leave home. Could you bring me back there? I could be a child forever.
But no, I can't.

Can you at least make me complacent again? I don't like this. I don't want to feel. I messed up I know but I don't know any other way. You're too perfect. I'm too messy. I'm sorry."


Suddenly the girl awoke, she looked around her and realized she was in a ballroom. A huge ballroom with golds, greens, blues and purples surrounding her in pictures on the wall. Her ears caught a familiar sound and she could faintly hear music playing all around her. She turned to go, knowing that this was no place for her, for a sinner. But a breeze opened the door, holding her in place. There He was, blocking the doorway. "NO!" she cried. "I told you, I don't want to feel!"
He didn't move, but a slow grin spread upon His face as he held out His hand. He waited. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Five seconds was all it took for her hand to reach his. She held her head down, ashamed and He gently pushed her chin up until she was looking into His eyes. Eyes she knew and loved. All she saw was love. He held her close and as they moved, the music once faint grew and grew. She knew this song, it was their song. How could she have forgotten? This is where she belonged.
"Will I leave again?" She whispered
Instead of answering, He held her closer and said "I will always find you."

Hungry?

We recently arrived back from two weeks away and were planning on replenishing our fridge as soon as we got back. It has now been 6 days and we've had no time to shop.
It's amazing what we've been finding in our pantry and fridge that we normally don't use because of all the other food we have. The only fruit we have is a bag of apples and let me tell you, we are finding very interesting ways to use apples. Last night our snack was popcorn and Jordan said "Apple cinnamon popcorn!" So apple cinnamon popcorn it was, I have never heard of such a thing but it was so good!
The hardest thing to go without though, is milk. Mainly because of tea, though Jordan does need his cereal. Guess what? We found out we have powdered milk! I was surprised that it tastes relatively the same and when I needed my chai yesterday, powdered milk was excited to step in for the real kind.

If someone were to come to our house and open our fridge they would probably think we were fasting. But the truth is, we haven't gone hungry once. Even though our usual food is missing and we finished our last frozen pizza yesterday, we still have enough to make apple cinnamon popcorn.

The first few months of being a bride were so exciting for me. I finally was able to cook for someone and show my husband how talented I am! So I bought lots of groceries and started trying out all the best recipes. We ate very well but soon found out that I had gone a little over budget. OK, I had managed to go a LOT over budget.
Lately I've been realizing that just because we need to eat well and food is everywhere around us in this country, it doesn't mean we can't be frugal with our meals. I bought a book called "Cut Your grocery Bill in Half with America's Cheapest Family" by Steve and Annette Economides. Definitely a recommended read!
I have found some very helpful tips, tips that are incredibly simple and should be used by everyone. They go on a huge grocery shopping trip once a month and the next day cook meals they then freeze and use throughout the month. When they run out of fruit, milk and such they go back to the grocery store.
I am starting slow and going every two weeks because we don't have a deep freezer yet. One tip I have been using is writing down our meal plan each week and schedule so we know when we only have half an hour to cook and eat (this happens often) and when we have a few hours so I can take my time.

I have been thinking about food, and cooking, and meal plans for a while. Especially since our food has been sparse here. At the same time, I have become a "Compassion advocate" an organization I've talked about before in this blog (the month of November), one I have wanted to be involved in since I was a little girl! I am trying to find a home for 6 more children, and only have their packets till January 31st.
We sponsor two children and I know they have a much different view of food planning that I do. Now that they are in Compassions system, they have food to eat, they know that their next meal will be soon, even if it's only rice and beans. But there are millions of women and mothers who can't plan their meals per week, much less per day. They can't show off their talent to their husbands and children because there is no food.

Here I am in Canada with tons of food in my cupboards that I never eat unless we have nothing else to eat, and I think that we hardly have any food. Can you imagine one of those women coming to my house? She would have a feast!
I'm embarrassed of my wealth, though by this country's standards we have none! I'm embarrassed of my complaints and thoughts that we don't have enough.
When I went to the Dominican Republic at 17 years of age and saw first hand how amazing the organization Compassion is, I resolved never to say "I'm starving" again. And I haven't. Because I've seen starving. I saw the kids on the street, their bellies sticking out, their arms and legs nothing but bones. And I saw the joyful faces on the children who were sponsored with Compassion. Even though they have nothing compared to us, they had more than we ever will. They escaped from poverty, from day to day hunger. I want more children to escape, which is why I signed on to be an advocate.

Don't worry, I'm going shopping today and plan to make some amazing meals for my hard working husband. As we sit at the table, we will thank God for the food and both of us will think of all those who can't say that. And then we will eat.

Always

Music moves me. It envelopes me whenever I hear it. I can't explain the effect it has on me in words. It brings me to tears, it stops me in my tracks, it teaches me more than a sermon ever could and it makes me move wherever I'm at. Yes, I am one of those strange people you see moving to their own beat, seen or unseen. Whenever I hear music I can't help but dance. Which I'm sure has raised some eyebrows in our Baptist Church.
Lately music has been making me close my eyes and cry silent tears. But not any kind of music, music about Jesus. About His love for me and mankind. Songs that speak of His healing touch, His grace.
I can't explain that either, I think it comes from a deep assurance that no matter what happens, He is with me. That sentence should be in flashing colours with fireworks shooting from it.

He is with me when I feel like a failure. He is with me when the dishes are piled high and I am on a campaign to rid the world of bathrooms to clean. He is with me when I can't sleep because pain that I can't bear is too great. He is with me when I scream out WHY? into the silent house. He is with me when I laugh at my Husband's impression of me saying "Just love meeeeee." He is with me when I wish friends were closer and when I rejoice that my best friend is ten minutes away! He is with me when I know it's my fault the fight started but am never the first one to say I'm sorry. He is with me when I dream about the future and our 9 children. HE IS WITH ME.

My husband always prays for God to be with so and so, and I've told him that you never have to ask that of God. It says in the Bible "And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age."
Wow! The God of the Universe is with me and you always. That makes me incredibly thankful and totally embarrassed. He's seen it all. The times I gossip, lie, cheat and fight. And I'm glad. Because I can't hide anything from Him yet He loves me and is with me always.


That's enough to make me cry tears of thankfulness. What about you?

You are My Hiding Place

"You are my hiding place, you always fill my heart with songs of deliverance.
Whenever I am afraid I will trust in you.

I will trust in you.
Let the weak say I am strong
In the strength of the Lord."