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?

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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.