RED {Five Minute Friday}

She gazes at the crisp white sheet as if the rest of her life depends on the next twenty minutes. Her heart is heavy and self expectation high- too high. It's a simple math test. She knows all the concepts.

What she fears more than anything is my response. What will the teacher's red marks reveal? Do they tell her she's approved? Accepted? Rejected? Stupid? Unable? Not good enough?

She misses a minor step here, and forgets a label there. I attempt to put small check marks with a bright red pen, hoping she will receive it as a learning opportunity. Not a reason to doubt. But the tears come and the insecurities take over. She didn't get 100%. She's not good enough. She's less than perfect.

I guide her to another red. There's this crimson red blood offering freedom through words of red. Red inscriptions from the Good Teacher. Marks and letters, messages written in scarlet speaking the only truth. The one truth she must regard more than anything; more than my plastic ball-point-pen could ever speak.

He says it simply and profoundly:

Come to Me. I will give you rest. Learn from Me. I am gentle. You will find rest for your souls. My yoke is easy. My burden is light. Follow me.

That's all He requires. That's all He expects. That's all He asks. Come to Him. He expects no perfection, just holy intention. He knows your weakness, struggles, shortcoming, and insecurities. He's created you for good works and written it all in RED.

Joining hundreds of Jesus lovers who just write, not worrying if it's just right or not over at Lisa-Jo's space. This week's prompt- RED.

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Small {Five Minute Friday}

Sometimes the day drags on and I find myself doing nothing more than entertaining or being entertained.  Friends on Facebook are cooking and canning and cleaning and making schedules and checking off items on their to-do list. Me? I'm trying to decide at 7:30pm what in the world we will have for dinner. I need to be more like them.

Then she calls and says those words to me- "my son thinks your family is the standard. He thinks he should have just as much time on the video games each day as your son." And I'm feeling even smaller than I was a minute ago.

I sit with a friend on my deck. We sit out here because inside the house is plastic and plaster and wet paint and too much reconstruction. I wanted to tell her not to even bother- please choose another day. But this couldn't wait. She is more important than my mess and she really doesn't even care what the house looks like. Or if I have cabinets sitting on the floor waiting to be installed and groceries on tables covered by sheets. What she needs is a listening ear and a prayerful friend. What she needs is a repentant daughter and a God that saves to the uttermost.

And my small heart is undergoing a little reconstruction of its own.

Today we celebrate sixteen years of marriage. Sixteen years! It feels huge to me, but then I see those other women and how they've survived unspeakable battles and decades of motherhood and married life, and my story seems small and insignificant again. It's only sixteen years.

But, it is our sixteen years. And we are headed away for the weekend to enjoy a break, to enjoy each other, to escape a half-finished kitchen, and remind ourselves of the small things- the things that keep us going and keep us looking up. Happy 16th Anniversary to my best friend!

(Writing today with the community at Lisa-Jo's where we love to just write without worrying if it's just right or not. Set the timer for five minutes and write on this prompt- Small. Then come share with us.)

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Belong {Five Minute Friday}

From the big city to to country living. I didn't belong and they put spotted owls in my locker- making sure I knew it.

From heathen background to country church. I belonged to no one but my foolish ways and sinful flesh. They welcomed me and made me theirs. Then His.

From homeland to foreign land. My skin was white and theirs was not. We stuck out and we struck out learning the language and taking chances. But He sent us there and we were about His business; Beautiful Business.

We returned to our home, but something was just not right. Something was different. We were different. And again, we just didn't belong.

Home schooled kids feel left out and alone. They don't belong because this- this is not the way of things. This is the way of shelter children and the 'un 'un-socialized.' But He surrounded us with others who didn't belong, and finally we found our nitch.

Babies that didn't belong at home because drugs and addiction kept mom from showing love. They came to our home. They slept in our rooms, ate from our table, sat in our laps, laughed at our jokes, lived in our lives, fellowshipped in our church, learned about our God. But they didn't belong because their hearts yearned for home.

And none of us really belong because this a temporary place. We long to fit in and we long to be longed for. And on that day, we will belong, dear one.

WE. WILL. BELONG.

(Writing today with the community at Lisa-Jo's where we love to just write without worrying if it's just right or not. Set the timer for five minutes and write on this prompt- Belong. Then come share with us.)

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Beauty-full Business

I expect the beauty to be in the finished product. After you've scraped the popcorn from above, and torn down walls from places uninvited. After the new paint is rolled on, and the shiny counter tops glisten brand new.

I expect the beauty to be seen in the healthy, happy life of marriage and family. When all is well and all are laughing. These things- they are good.

But I saw the beauty in the midst of the ugly. I saw one after another come into that hospital. Into the cold, stale, stench of sickness. They came, they prayed, they anointed, they blessed. This is the work of a beautiful God in an ugly world. And He's at work all around. All the time.

I see the beauty of tearing down walls and scraping old mud. Breaking through layers and layers of colors and years. There's a story behind each one. Many stories. Each one beautiful, because even in the trials and storms, difficulties, and take-my-breath-away failures, He is beautifying His people.

Whether it's plowing into drywall, or plowing into my comfortable little life with plans supposing to go just so, beauty is within and beneath the plastic paint and layers of cover-ups. And sometimes He allows us to be broken up a little or a lot. Either way, there's beauty in there. And this is His business. This is Beauty-full business.

(Writing today with the community at Lisa-Jo's where we love to just write without worrying if it's just right or not. Set the timer for five minutes and write on this prompt- Beautiful. Then come share with us.)

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Craving a good Bible Study? Go here, and here! Promise you won't be disappointed :)

Shedding Tears and Sin {Five Minute Friday}

Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week: take a measly five minutes and write. No over thinking, no backtracking, no ‘wait, that’s not spiritual enough, and I can’t share that in cyber city’ mentality. Only writing. Writing for five minutes and risking the outcome. {and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you.}

This week's prompt- Rhythm

GO

It's been a week of exhaustion and exaltation. We've welcomed little ones and walked them right up to that cross. They drew a little picture, wrote their name on that print, and marched one after another. "Jesus is calling you by name." I tell her. She looks at me, eyes wide and full of wonder. "He loves you and He wants to wash away your sin. Put that sin right there on that cross. Right there where Jesus' blood poured out."

And I see the tears. This isn't a game to her. She knows she's a sinner and she knows Jesus is here. Now. I hug her and she walks away.

They come one after another. "Jesus loves you so much, and He's calling you by your name." I fear it's too repetitive, but I know the words are true. The first time and the hundredth time. And the words aren't my own but they are life and they come from the Life Giver.

One after another. Coming to the cross and shedding the tears and the sins and the life they lived this morning in their living rooms and at their kitchen tables with Mom and Dad and neighbors who watch from across the way.

It's more than words. It's the rhythm of a Savior and the power of the Holy Spirit working through the heart of servants.

STOP

It's been an emotional experience of Vacation Bible School at our church this week. Would you pray for God's little ones tomorrow? And for His big one's sharing Christ's love, forgiveness, and merciful grace? Their hearts are raw and ready. And Jesus is calling each one by name.

Now head over to The Gypsy Mama's site to visit other 'Five Minute Fridayers.' Be amazed at where one word can take a community of writers and Jesus lovers, and leave some encouraging feedback. Most importantly, it's your turn, go fall onto a chair, and let your thoughts fall into a keyboard. Then share them with us. 

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Fall {Five Minute Friday}

Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week: take a measly five minutes and write. No over thinking, no backtracking, no ‘wait, that’s not spiritual enough, and I can’t share that in cyber city’ mentality. Only writing. Writing for five minutes and risking the outcome. {and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you.}

This week's prompt- Fall

When I first glanced at the word, I was reminded of last fall. A handful of grown-ups all trying to heed God's call took in a school full of children. Children that loved Jesus, even in all their awkward worship and insecure prayers. Last fall we welcomed them. In nine months we fell head-over-heels for them. Yesterday we said goodbye. And next fall we'll start again, just a little more wise, and lot more like the Savior.

Then last night my son came in to hug me, and we marveled at just how God knit and fashioned us- to hug neck to neck, face tucked into shoulders, falling into one another just so. He's still eleven, and he never ceases to tell me he loves me more and offer remindful embraces. I'd fall in love with him over and over, this boy of mine.

Then there is the fall of course, and the only way to battle that dilemma is to fall head first in love with Jesus Himself, the one who fell to the ground and died that we might live. The One who lost His life and then took it up for eternal life. For yours and mine. The one who gave up all and became the Perfect Man, defeating death by his own.

And don't be ignorant concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. Because those who are alive and remain until the coming of the Lord will by no means precede those who are asleep. And I am reminded of Nancy. And of the family left behind, left to continue living this life. And I pray they too have fallen for the "only One worth living for," and are comforted by the God of all comfort and the Father of mercy. That they would see their loved one again. That they would not fall into temptation, but be delivered from the evil one.

 

Now head over to The Gypsy Mama's site to visit other 'Five Minute Fridayers.' Be amazed at where one word can take a community of writers, and leave some encouraging feedback. Most importantly, it's your turn, go fall onto a chair, and let your thoughts fall into a keyboard. Then share them with us. 

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Brave ~Five Minute Friday~

For God has not given us spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a

sound mind. ~2 Timothy 1:7

I hear this verse often in Christian circles. I quote it myself for encouragement and reminders that our God is big and we shall not fear. What I hadn't realized is the context of this particular verse. Do you know what the one directly preceding it says:

Therefore I remind you to stir up the gift of God which is in you

through the laying on of hands. ~2 Timothy 1:6

Paul  is speaking to Timothy about spiritual gifts! And this is something I'm still thinking on. Here's a confession- ever since posting my thoughts yesterday about gifts, I've been considering going back and deleting that last part- the one that says 'God has given me a gift to teach others with His Word.'

Why is it so hard to confess a gift to others? Why do we acknowledge the gift and then turn around and deny the gift? Do we think accepting and sharing and using the things God purposefully gives us is some sort of prideful act? Why do we think that way?

When I give my children and gift and they actually use and share it- do I conclude they are being prideful and selfish? Sometimes, yes. And that must be our problem.

We are sinful people who have issues with accepting that what God gives us is a gift of grace and not something we deserve or have earned. This includes our spiritual gifts. I'm pretty sure He even gives us gifts we're not capable of using. Gifts we must stir up. Gifts that require His hand in helping us build.

I have a suspicion that God gave Aaron, Moses' bother, a gift of leadership not because he earned or deserved it, but because God chose Aaron. Simple as that. I also wonder if He gave Aaron and artistic gift, which was in turn used against God and for the worshiping of an idol.

But since God's gifts are simply God's grace given to His unique created people, there can be no room for pride or self exaltation.  And the fears we may have are that of becoming boastful, discovering we were wrong about our gift and embarrassing ourselves,  or being rejected by others as we step out in faith believing God in His gift. Because ultimately it really is His gift meant to be used for His body and His glory.

It takes a brave woman to trust God and others with your precious gift.

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Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week:

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

Oh and Ahem, if you would take pity and turn off comment verification, it would make leaving some love on your post that much easier for folks!

OK, are you ready? Please give us your best five minutes on:::

Brave…

(I always edit. I'm a terrible typer. Maybe a little prideful too.)

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What a Friend

I have this friend who is unlike any other. She has a birthday tomorrow and yesterday I considered writing a post all about her.

This friend has been such a blessing in my life I felt that you all needed at least a piece of her. The problem I encountered however, was my lack of ability to truly represent her before you. There is so much to be said about my friend, and I knew I could never share her with you in words alone. So I scratched the idea and decided to just enjoy her myself this weekend surrounded by thousands of women being washed in the Word together.

And then I stopped by Lisa-Jo's Five Minute Friday. And what do ya know… today's word- FRIEND. I'm working on hearing God's voice and knowing when He prompts. I think this was a prompting. Several promptings actually.

So, Five minutes writing all about my friend, Tresta- here goes-

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It all started when I was nineteen, newly married, and a confused, lost, lonely new mommy. By miraculous happenings, I went to church. It was a teeny tiny little body but the people who filled it had large hearts with wide open doors. And she was one of those people. I knew she had something I didn't. Something I needed.

Flash forward to months in Mexico and returning home with nowhere to live. We were 'missionaries' and God was calling us back. There she was again- welcoming us in like we were a part of her family. She never wavered in opening her heart and her home.

When I struggled to homeschool and knew I was incapable, she reeled me in, ministered to me and helped me minister to my children. She taught me to teach and she listened to my fears and doubts. She cried with me and prayed with me. She was a light that lit the way to the One who could really strengthen and guide me.

Today she is a mom, wife, friend, and disciple I look up to and praise God for. She's the kind of woman that you get to know intimately- to know the real behind the outside shell- and come to love more and more.

I don't get to see her enough, but I follow her written thoughts regularly and never cease to be blessed, encouraged, and challenged by her thoughts and convictions.

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That was five minutes, and I was right- I cannot do this friend justice with keyboard and simple words. I think she'd be okay with that though, because she's a simple girl herself and wouldn't want me to spend more than five minutes shining the spotlight on her. Please visit her at SharpPaynes.com and be filled!  

Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week: take a measly five minutes and write. No over thinking, no backtracking, no ‘wait, that’s not spiritual enough, and I can’t share that in cyber city’ mentality. Only writing. Writing for five minutes and risking the outcome. {and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you.}

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Five Minute Friday- Rest

His word promises that if I seek Him first, if I seek His kingdom first, the rest will be taken care of.

I begin my day with the One who always was. He never wasn't and He always will be and He chooses to sit with me and encourage me in His Word daily. I think on the hard things. I reread and read again because my feeble mind can't comprehend His greatness. I move into prayer and I am speechless. What does a wretched wife and mom say to this just and powerful Being? Words and thoughts could never be enough. Yet, I know He wants to hear from me.

I have a million, trillion, gazillion things to ask for: requests for friends and friends of friends, for missionaries, for the persecuted, for those closest to my heart, and for the one with possibly the most need- myself. Because as I gaze into the mirror, I see the stuff that shouldn't be there. But He reminds me to simply seek Him first.

And that is what I've been attempting to do. Why is it so difficult? Shouldn't it be simple to dwell on the Creator of the grandest galaxies and the smallest cells? He is amazing. Why is this so hard?

And so I am forced to rush through my 'time' with Him because the day ahead is full and I am already running behind. Get the kids up, make their lunches, hope you don't have to leave the house too messy, and don't forget you have to get gas on the way.

This is when the 'rest' that I somehow thought would be painless and perfect begins to look awful and oh so unholy. But Lord, I spent time with you this morning. I was in your Word, mediating on Your goodness. I asked you to bless my day and to help me be an example of You to these! What happened? Why am I yelling at my son? Why am I so full of frustration? You said You would take care of it!

Do I sound like a lost child? I had a huge pity party and cried the whole way to school. My son simply said he was sorry and thanked me for making his lunch. I cried even more because I know that a soft answer turns away wrath, yet my gracious God took my failure and used even that to mold the heart of my son. And the heart of this mom. And I fought back tears throughout the day because I want to simply enter His rest. I want to be done with the striving and the hurt. I cannot bear the pain of that knife in my chest being twisted and turned. I can't bear the failure of this whole mom thing.

I see that reflection and know even more so how much I am in need of my Savior. And I am so grateful that He would even have me; that my son would even hug me and apologize to a mama that needs to be rebuked. I hope that someday my children know the pain of a parent; the reason we do what we do and look so crazy and out of sorts. I hope they can understand that as I correct them and reproof them, I am twisted up inside because my own sin is so unbearable. They think I'm attempting to remove their plank, but really it's just a speck compared to my own.

But seek Him first. That is what I continue to do. Despite my shortcomings and my sins. Despite my words of wrath and my harsh reactions. Despite my inability to see Him as He truly is, I seek Him and He faithfully responds.

Yes, even in the yuck of life, He offers me rest for my soul. I accept!

(Five minutes? This took me twenty!)

Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week: take a measly five minutes (or half an hour, whatever get's us typing!) and write. No over thinking, no backtracking, no ‘wait, that’s not spiritual enough, and I can’t share that in cyber city’ mentality. Only writing. Writing for five minutes and risking the outcome. This week’s prompt- REST

{and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you}

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FMF~ My Mama

What makes my mama unique from any other? Her uniqueness is not found in food, laughing, dancing, or even in storytelling. (I really laughed out loud at those descriptions.) Her uniqueness is found in the difficult, lonely, and mundane events.

It’s a mom’s worst nightmare. A sick, hurting baby, and a refusal from the medical world to offer answers. Days turned to weeks and weeks to months and this tiny infant was only getting worse. And my fearful mama was dealing with it alone. She comforted and caressed, but even the love of a faithful mama cannot mend a broken body.

Doctor after doctor turned her away, and she sought the only one left to listen: Almighty God. His answer came through a young intern. The most unexpected and under qualified used that stethoscope and the ears of God to hear the imperfection within. There was something wrong with the heart, and surgery was impertinent.

No mama could ever imagine her nine-month-old whisked away; being wheeled into that cold room to be cut wide open, heart completely removed from the struggling little body. And my mama’s heart was broken along with my own. Yet, in the brokenness she found comfort and hope in a God she hadn’t seen, but desperately cried out to.

Flash forward over half a decade and you’d find her rushing to the stage at the front of a gymnasium to rescue her scared little girl from the eyes of hundreds of onlookers. Or you’d glimpse her tediously pedaling an old bicycle, infant seat attached, determined to get her baby girl to a birthday party. We stayed only long enough to offer a gift and there we went, peddling back home. I think she knew I’d be too shy to stay, too scared to be left alone.

Years later, on the day of my 14^th birthday, there was my faithful mama, comforting me in a post-op hospital room. I was throwing up, I was in pain, and the jello only made me nauseous. The dry heaves were unbearable. She arrived in my room famished, carrying a grease covered bag of deep fried food and carbs. No, it wasn’t for me, and no I wasn’t supposed to have it, but one look at my face and she quickly handed over her only meal. Nothing was said to the hospital staff.

I know this is supposed to be a five minute response, but who can reminisce about a mama for only five minutes? I could go on and on. Couldn’t you? She’s always been there for me and she continues to be my mama, even at the age of 33. Just yesterday she offered comfort only a mama can insisting I use her pillow as I lay useless on the couch in a sick heap. No, she’s not perfect. Yes, we’ve had our struggles, and yes, there were times I doubted her mothering abilities (she’d be the first to admit she’s no chef, and I recall numerous visits to Little Caesar’s and Arby’s for dinner).   

How is my mom unique from any other?  She’s a rescuer. She’s compassionate and all heart. Her love is effortless and sacrificial. She’s a helper- sometimes an over-the-top and a you’re-not-letting-them-learn-from-their-mistakes-and-difficulties kind of helper, but a helper nonetheless. And I love this mama of mine like I love no other.  

You’ve always loved me, Mom. You’re heart has been broken and mended even as mine has. Yet, you continue to willingly hand it over without question or hesitation. Thank you, Mom!

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Today’s your turn. What did your mama do that makes her your mama? Let’s unpack those memories today. Let’s trace our fingers along the lines of the unexpected. The ordinary beauty in a day of motherhood. The food or the laughing or the dancing or the story telling.

Where is your memory buried?

In just five minutes. Tell me all about what your mama did that made her yours….
{and don’t forget to spend some time commenting on the post of the person who linked up just before you}

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Beloved

I saw today’s prompt from Lisa-Jo Baker and I couldn’t not write.

It was a challenge I didn’t accept quickly. I couldn’t recall ever reading anything like it in the scriptures and it almost felt like a way to test God. Plus, I was a little scared and unsure. “Ask God to give you one word. Ask Him who you are,” She said. “When you are truly seeking Him, He will answer you, and He won’t allow the enemy to be involved in this conversation.” Hmmmmm, I wasn’t so sure about that. Plus, did I really want to know what HE thought of me?

 I lay there, alone, scared- no, frightened. Who am I Lord? The answer came before I even voiced the entire question. Like He’s been waiting for it… waiting to tell me who I was. Waiting for me to ask. Knowing eventually I would.

BELOVED

At the beginning of your supplications the command went out, and I have come to tell you, for you are greatly beloved.   Daniel 9:23

It was so clear and so heavy and so real I wasn’t sure how to respond. And my reply was so typical, because when my husband tells me how wonderful I am, how beautiful I am, I think of all those times he made his own dinner and of the large rolls hanging over my denim jeans. Wonderful? Beautiful? Beloved?

And when a friend compliments me and tells me how special I am; that I am a friend to be trusted; that I am missed and worth missing, I deny it to myself and throw insults and condemnations. They obviously don’t know this woman very well. I’ve tricked them all into believing the lie.

But the truth is they know me all too well. They know my struggles and they know my pain and they know my failures, and they knowingly love me. My husband married a woman almost sixteen years ago because of a mistake. He stays married to her because he knows her inside and out and cherishes what she has become despite the mistakes.

My Lord knew me before I was formed and decided to work amid the mistakes and the questions and the doubts and make me pure, spotless, beloved.

It is me who has believed the lie. I am beloved and I choose to be loved.

Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week: take a measly five minutes and write. No over thinking, no backtracking, no ‘wait, that’s not spiritual enough, and I can’t share that in cyber city’ mentality. Only writing. Writing for five minutes and risking the outcome. This week’s prompt- BELOVED

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Read more about my Beloved Story at the following links

A New Name

Beloved Bride

The Fingerprint of God

Identity vs Action

It is Written

Cherished Yet Chastised

I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit.

CHERISHED

I’ve always read these words to mean that my Lord would cut me off; that He would reject and cast me out if He found me not “bearing fruit.” And maybe that’s exactly what the Word indicates, but if this be true I should have been rejected and cast out LONG AGO! Oh He is so patient and good.

How I would rather be pruned! That He would use those mighty hands to mold, mend, and create in me.

And so I’m reminded that I am His. I am chosen, holy, blameless, predestined, adopted, forgiven, saved, sealed, redeemed, and His purchased possession. {Eph 1}

Can I be so bold as to add CHERISHED to that list? Am I cherished by Him? And what does that even mean? To hold dear: feel or show affection for; to keep or cultivate with care and affection; to entertain or harbor in the mind deeply and resolutely.

Does He cherish me? Does He hold me dear? Does He cultivate me with care and affection? Does He entertain deep thoughts of me? It seems selfish to even think such a mighty God, such a worthy Lamb would bother with me, the one who should be taken away and cast off.

But maybe it’s not me He’s taking away. Maybe it’s those parts of me that need taken, stripped, cast out; those parts that keep me from bearing the fruit that glorifies Him. And maybe sometimes I have a difficult time deciphering between the taking away and the pruning because maybe sometimes they feel the same. And maybe sometimes they are happening cohesively? He’s taking away over here and He’s pruning over there…. They both entail cutting and pain.

So I will not grow weary in doing good and I will wait patiently as He works through the spring, summer, and then the harvest. Because that first spring bud is exciting and offers hope. But the drought of summer discourages and brings the need for refreshment. Don’t grown weary, cherished one. Don’t lose faith waiting on the harvest.  And don’t get discouraged with the cutting. Because whom He loves He chastens. It is for the furthering of the gospel in and through you.

By this My Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit; so you will be My disciples.

Lisa-Jo offers the challenge week after week: take a measly five minutes and write. No over thinking, no backtracking, no ‘wait, that’s not spiritual enough, and I can’t share that in cyber city’ mentality. Only writing. Writing for five minutes and risking the outcome. This week’s prompt- CHERISHED (Confession- I took more than 5 minutes and I over-thought, backtracked, and second guessed. I even used my thesaurus)

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