ahead, beside, or behind

It's the beginning of summer. That nudging promise I made back in January is slowly shifting from my narrow focus and drifting some place back to the side of life. Remember when the new year started and we all made new years resolutions or goals or promises or whatever you call them when the calendar says January 1? I remember. Sort of. Most days, some days. It may have been the long winter days that left me time to linger on that new imprint left on my heart...but as the days grew in hours of sunshine and time spent outdoors, I have let life distract me from His teaching to my soul.

Sometimes we see a dream for our-self and it is the people around us that show us how to get there. I wouldn't be surprised if someday when we all are standing before the King that I will look over and see my own people. My cheering section. My bleacher buddies. Because no matter what we set out to reach in life, most every time somebody is walking ahead of me, beside me, or is right behind me. And I almost always can just look up and find a place I can fill in.

Back in the cold Iowa days I took on the journey to find out what wearing love could like for me. It's been no small New Years goal... but perhaps more of a life long journey. New days, new years, new seasons, new places in life... I've yet to find a moment that is not showing me to wear love in a new way. A better way. Penciled in my notebook is pages of where...and why... but it is the how that I have struggled to write in. The "how" often keeps us from finishing the journey. We don't always know how to do what He calls us to. And lately I've learned that sometimes I just need to look around more and watch... For that hand full of people in front, besides, and behind me is usually some where on the how spectrum of doing great things in this life. Wearing love can only be great. He commands it and He models it and He teaches it. Many of my hurdles in life could be leveled if I could only learn the how more often of simply wearing love.

With the gentle summer breeze blowing in after a long cold winter, I have the windows open as well as my eyes. I see those around me. So many of them. Loving in deep, real, honest, and kind ways. I am encouraged to keep writing in the how-to's of this recent life-size dream to wear love well on my journey. I see so much good when I really look up and watch the hearts living close to me. I am inspired to love big and lead just the same. When the imprint fades, I simply only need to look around... for I can not deny the beauty that shines off the many people I'm living with.

I yearn to wear love as my best accessory in life. I'm blessed to borrow it from willing souls. I'm honored to share it as the days go by and the seasons change and the new years pass by. Today I'm reminded to wear love, for wherever I go somebody has already dressed the part. What a colorful life of good people He has created. Look for those around you today. Let them lead you, lead those following you, and brave the journey to love right where you are.

#FMFparty :: Hands

Trying a little something new here. As a reader and writer, I have several authors I love to follow around on social media and through my amazon cart. One of my newest favorites is a Mama...just like most of us. She recently released "Surprised by Motherhood" which you can buy here. Lisa-Jo Baker also hosts a little flash mob, but in writing style, each Friday. It sounds fun and challenging and I'm gonna dance with it this Friday! (Oh, and I would recommend her new book! I loved it and read through it very quickly!!)

If the hands of time could tell their story at the end of my day, I'm not sure I'd like what I sometimes see. We all wake up with the same amount of hours to use in a day. As mothers, we wonder how the hours in the day can be so long while the hours that make the year go always turn so fast. The truth is...I know the dailyness of diapers and dinner and dishes take up my time. I dress the babes and before I know it I'm already warming up the oven for that time of the day when we gather around saying grace and sharing a meal. Those hands move fast, but I take them slow so as not to miss the magic that happens in simply doing this life called motherhood. And some place between the morning and the night I lose some of those moments that tick away with the turning hands that never sleep...

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10

If I had to guess, something is stealing your time. We've each been given the hours of a day to live life. To watch the hands of time turn in a way that brings Him glory. We start our day and end our day with moments worthy of His calling for each of us. Even as Mama's we can take the dirty and the do again's and the draining minutes of our day and make them count as our clocks turn and our calendars flip over to new years. The hands of time can tell a story of honor...and strength...and humility...and love...and discipline...and grace...and surrender. Our hands can show our homes that the minutes count and the people matter and what we do is accounted for. Time...in the palm of our hands when we choose for Him. 

when grace is born

It wasn't the first time I saw a yes. Two pink lines. A plus sign. Positive. There is a new life coming.

But it was the first time I felt grace come alive in me, born at that moment when I learned I was given a gift for no particular reason... other then that I was loved. Beloved...precious, dearly loved, cherished, treasured, adored. He chose me.

Before the Truth that came with knowing I was a worthy life-carrier, the lie that I was not worthy had woven around my heart. I had struggled for many days to come out of the fog that was leading my life as I breathed day in and day out to be everything I could not live up to. In all my ways as His child, I was lost... losing myself through the trenches of motherhood and womanhood and scared I may not have anything to offer. A heart so in love with my season of life, but so broken to live it.

My seasons were changing and sometimes winter's are long and hard and cold. Some where at the bottom of my worst days, I started to find my best parts. Where roots had grown, branches had sprouted...and blossoms were waiting to bloom. But I found myself buried under layers of winter and the thawing process to spring was long. Lonely. Lifeless. But every tear, cry, and whimper worth it.

So like many winters, I started to prepare for spring. I cleaned out. I sorted.  I planted. I pruned. I prepared.  I paused. I prayed. Some place in all that cleaning and caring, I gave away myself to something new. Something possible. Something alive and living...in each of us. Grace. Spring after winters and life after death. I found it in my ugliest places and came back out with a beautiful new life. The same beautiful that is in each of us. His beauty. His art. His hand in our lives.

The thing is... I am not worthy. None of us are. But I am loved. All of us are. And before I saw the yes, the two pink lines, the positive...I did not know the depth of His love. I did not believe that I just may have a story to tell all of my own... a simple, yet beloved life to share. I did not believe that in my trenches of this season of life that God could use me. Would use me. I felt broken and unworthy and unqualified. He showed me He could use me in all my pieces and put together a beautiful life...a real story...with a willing soul. When I saw that I could give life even from my most dead days, I met grace. I found life. She came through the form of a baby girl and I've carried her in my heart the way Jesus holds us in His hands. Gently and tenderly and always. Spring after winter. Life after death.

From those cold days, I've trusted that no matter where the seasons take me... I have a source of life that can always bloom. I have a life that is made for Him and from Him. Even in the trenches, we have something to offer. Thanksgiving.

He chooses us. You... Me... yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He gives grace to His beloved and we live it through thanksgiving. Today I count them again... my gifts. I offer thanks and I trust I can do even the smallest things for His glory. So very thankful for that baby girl that speaks life today and celebrates one year and reminds me that we are each chosen. We are each beloved. We are each here to write a story... His story.

Happy 1st Birthday, Savannah Grace...

When you're expecting...Mother's Day.

When Mother's Day arrives in just a couple days it is easy to head into it with the best expectations. Whether you are a time with the kids or a time without the kids gal, expectations will be what meets you first thing in the morning when you open your eyes to Mothers Day. It's almost as if the day changes what happens the other 364 days of the year. Surely, today...Mother's Day...will be different. 

The day we become mothers we not only deliver our children, but we give birth to His plan for us to become more like Him... by loving them. Being a mother is the closest thing to understanding God's gift to us... a son. A sacrifice. A send forth of the best of us. Even when we're the worst. 

And for 364 days of the year we love in ways we didn't know we could...until we were mothers. So when Mothers Day arrives, we expect those we've died for to show us just how much all this trying and holding and giving away and molding and making and forcing and bending and lifting and carrying and running and bearing to be noticed. To be seen. To be felt. We want to be known. I want to be known. 

Someplace between birthing day and this Mother's Day coming up, we have exchanged the pains of labor for the pain of giving ourselves away. Some days we've given until we have nothing left. We've broken off more than can be repaired just yet. And we hurt to become more like Him. On Mother's Day, we expect them to see. How very much we are breaking as we find our way as a mother.

In all the days that we live as mother's, these souls that we carry on our backs are really carrying much of my weight. They take and I give and I know this pull between us is me not only giving them what they need...but giving me what I need, too. All those stretch marks that come with growing babies actually leaves scars on my heart from growing me along the way.  I've been my worst version of myself as a mother. I've been my best version of myself as a mother. For all the moments that make up a year I have given until I've broken. Mother's fix things though. When I have broken, it has only made me stronger. And I give again. Better. Stronger. More like Him, less like me. 

I have woken up before on Mothers Day with great expectations. In this season though, I wake up simply grateful to be...a mother. For all the giving of my time, my energy, my heart, my soul...my sleep and my first bites of pizza... I would do it all again to be their mother. I have labored far long after the delivery room and for every day of the year around Mother's Day, I am forever grateful for what my children have made of me. 

This Mother's Day, I am not expecting. I am doing what us mother's always do... give. Give to your kids. Give to your husband. Give to your own Mama's and the gal down the street who gives as if she is your own Mother. Give to the ones who want to be mothers, but can't. Give to the Mom's who nobody sees. Give to the women who have mothered your own along the way. Give to the hearts that have carried the souls, but no child here to show for it. Give to the Mother's who can't give themselves. Be a mom. Give.

What we should love about Mother's Day is that we simply love being a Mom. Expect nothing more. Because we work for an audience of one, no matter how many children call us Mom. We give for reasons that shouldn't need flowers and dinners out and fancy watches. We mother for Him. And to Him we matter. We're seen. We're loved and known. 

Wake up Sunday morning expecting to love, just like all the other 364 days of the year. Our best gifts simply call us "mom". 

simplify to love

Ever feel like you want to do something, but you can't...because you have "too much stuff to do"? I have too often wanted to do a few somethings, but didn't because my "to do's" were piled so high I just felt paralyzed by it all. So instead I did nothing. When I continually heard over and over to clothe myself with love, I knew it was a "something" I couldn't ignore. But the depth that came with that little task overwhelmed me.  I needed to break it up into a bunch of smaller pieces. I decided to start in small areas in my life and work my way through my list of places I could wear love better around in my life. Oh boy, there are many...

One of the first places that made my list and where I wanted to wear love...is my home. 

I wasn't sure where or how to start here, but I knew that the things of my home often kept me from loving the people of my home.

I have been a slave to the things of this world too many times. I fall into a cycle of confusing my needs with my wants. It usually finishes with me being empty in the heart area and full in my responsibilities area. A closer look will show you that by buying, collecting, consuming, hoarding, having, and getting things will actually only empty a home. Not fill it. Home is where the heart is after all. When you walk through my front door, I want you to feel full of life...full of love...full of time to sit and be home with us here. And I don't have time enough to even open my door and let people in when I am spending all my time trying to keep my home up. 

Realizing I was a slave to my things felt ick. Really ick. Especially when I knew that too often I had spent time either gathering things for my home or organizing my things in my home...cleaning, sorting, picking up, cleaning more, and keeping track of what filled our life. Things. Stuff. And then as if a light-bulb went off...

I realized life would be lived better and I could love better if I had less to take care of...to manage...to clean...to organize...to oversee. 

This is where my deep desire to simplify my home started. I wanted home to be manageable in a way that gave life to the ones in it and not pulled away from their soul when they settled here. To breathe life and love into people in my home meant one thing. Simplify.

Simplify what surrounded us. Simplify what we did here. Simplify how we lived here. Simplify what we used here. Simplified the stuff so we could surrender to love in a way that He calls us... love. Just love. 

#wearlove

Winters are dang long in the Mid-west. But just because I'm stuck indoors doesn't mean I have to sit my days away. Of course, with 4 children, there is no sitting anyways... but I like to think that I would be motivated to clean out even if I didn't have 4 kids or long winter days to survive. Yes, I said survive. Once the New Year rolled around, I had only one new goal on my plate. It seems in more places then not, less is more. Even new years resolutions. Giving myself one, instead of ten, seemed attainable. I am a goal oriented gal anyways, so I was giving it all I got...to this one goal...Wear love. More on that specific topic another day, but for today...and a few postings...I am going to pen through what my heart has learned as I simplified around here as I've been challenged to wear love daily.

What does simplifying have to do with wearing love? Everything. I think.

What does wear love even mean? I'm still figuring that out.

I keep having Colossians 3:14 grace my presence. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony.

And on January 1st, along with the rest of the world, I made a new year resolution. I landed on one simple, yet not, goal for myself...

So began my journey to clothe myself in love and simplify so I could. 

home is where the hearts is

Ten years today feels like a million yesterdays. Ten years ago today I met my other half, with a baby boy in my arms, to sign away what felt like everything we had and left with a set of keys to call our own. Not only did we hold that set of keys in our hands, but a handful of dreams as well. We had plans and a new home and a new baby and life was looking to be in our favor that day...ten years ago. We had a set of keys to unlock our new home and the plans we made would now follow. Ten years ago, that's what we thought. I thought.

When you get the keys to life, you tend to think you know what stands behind the door. As if those golden keys that open a door can actually tell you which way to go once you get inside.

We stood upon our new home and set our plans into action. And what we found was this...

We can kick and scream to make our plans work... or we can bend down to His plans and unlock the only door that will lead us home.

Many are the plans in our hearts. Many were the plans we brought with us that day ten years ago. And many, many times...we've had to close the door to our ways and open the door to His.

We bought our home here and brought so many expectations with us. Dreams and ideas of how we thought life was supposed to look...supposed to happen...supposed to be. What I found in all those supposed to be places was a lot of heartache. A lot of insecurities when our plans didn't happen in our ways and in our time. A lot of fear. A lot of pride. A lot of brokenness.

The beautiful thing about brokenness is that it is only broken...not dead. Broken dreams and broken plans only leave room for something better to be discovered. More often then not, the broken things of life end up better then before. Just don't stay in the broken places once you've realized it's broke... you're broke. I was broke. Take that key to life and turn it, open it, live in it. And rebuild. Broken plans always close one door, but the door that opens for you is always the way to go...

Ten years ago I couldn't set down the dreams in my hands very well. What stood behind the door when I unlocked it was one room. One dwelling place. It doesn't matter how many other doors lead away from this one room... the Truth is... they all lead back to Him.

No matter which door you decide to go through, take the key of Life...take the brokenness and rebuild and dwell in His house. Our ways are His ways when we invite Him in to our dwelling place. Our homes, our hearts... Our lives. Broken, but always being rebuilt as He unlocks a little more of Him and a little less of us. Home, truly where the heart is.