Choosing Differently

Today. Today I read this and this and this as I carved out time to just enjoy the morning. Window shades pulled up to let light in. Coffee in a spill-proof cup because I still haven't found the night stands I really want and the coffee has to sit in my lap for now. Covers all messy around me and over me. Laptop waiting with words that will fill the emptiness created by not purposing to fill it. Instead I've just allowed myself to ache over emptiness and then ache some more. Boredom and emptiness beget boredom and emptiness. Yet in the low places where they both wait, it takes effort to not be lulled by them into complacency and then settle for them as companions.

So I chose differently. Today. I chose to sip at the drink that I've unwittingly abandoned, the one that ever satiates my thirsty soul. Words beautiful and words deep breathe life into me. Words written from the heart of God and placed in The Book that will never be out sold, and other words that He delivers, written from the same place but bound with a different cover, or none at all, with a different title, because that someone bowed in passionate obedience and listened and then set those words free.

I've neglected words, and I am well aware again of the price I pay when I do. Thirsty. Parched. Dry. Cracking. Apathetic. And then bored and empty.

But today I chose differently. That's all it really takes. Choosing Differently. Yet that choice can feel too hard and almost beyond my ability when I neglect it for too many days in a row. Or weeks. Or months.

And it's not that I've disregarded His Word for too long. Because they are there. Always there. It's in the choice to sip and walk away or linger and drink the entire cup that determines my level of saturation afterward.

No, it's not that I haven't chosen His Word, but instead the addition of words He chooses to write through attentive hearts. And I've neglected also allowing Him to write through mine.

And it's not that His Word isn't enough, it's always all and then some, but there's good reason that He also chooses to give words to others. Because His heart continues through those who sit with Him and then release to us. 

And it's not just words. It's every gift really.

But for me it's that written trifecta. That perfect storm that keeps my heart alive and fresh and inspired, and keeps boredom and emptiness at bay: His Words. Their Words. My Words. Really ALL His, but dealt out to different hands and hearts.

Words inspire me and feed me and drive me and love on me. And today I chose not to abandon them but to abandon myself to them.

What feeds you, drives you, loves on you and inspires you? Then choose it today. Remember, that's all it really takes: Choosing Differently.

So This Is Love

So this is love, Mmmmmm

So this is love

So this is what makes life divine

I'm all aglow, Mmmmmm

And now I know

The key to all heaven is mine

My heart has wings, Mmmmm

And I can fly

I'll touch every star in the sky

So this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of

Mmmmmm

Mmmmmm

So. This. Is. Love.

When I was a little girl playing with my Barbie's, my Ken and Barbie were almost always Cinderella and Prince Charming, in terms of the shaping and unfolding of their love story in my active imagination ... and with the help of my 3-story Barbie Dreamhouse.

As I grew older and laid my Barbie's aside--although not until I was 12, or so--I transitioned to daydreaming about my 'one day' Prince Charming. I was, after all, raised on Disney films and my favorite was, of course, Cinderella. Thoughts of my prince riding up the sandy beach on his white steed and scooping me up with one arm--me all barefoot and long hair flowing in the summer breeze, as the sun was beginning to set across the ocean's horizon--would lull me to sleep many a night. (I was raised a southern California beach girl. My dreams always included the ocean and sandy beaches.)

Ah, the dreaming heart of a young girl and her visions of love shaped by fairytales and the hand-drawn imagineering's of Disney and his crew. Now girls daydream of their Romeos with Taylor Swift's Love Story the background music to their romantic imaginations.

What's the saying? "Young love. Ain't it grand!"

Actually, it is sweet and filled with all kinds of idealistic views of enchantment and princes and glorious rescues from the mundane world of homework or chores and grand adventures of conquering the world together through a love much deeper and stronger than anyone who ever lived before, or will ever live again.

But how come there's only side to that coined phrased? Why can't I recall one about old love just as easily? You know ... the time and trial tested kind of love? Surely that deserves a catchphrase all it's own. Right? Maybe when we get a few more Hollywood writers to capture our hearts with stories like Carl and Ellie's from UP (I could watch that opening scene a billion times over and never grow tired of it), the tide of a culture hypnotized by youth and the backwards notion that passion is reserved for young love will be begin to turn. Maybe.

I digress. All of this really came pouring out of me as I opened my blog to write about this week's Marriage Builder, an email blast from Marriage Today written by Jimmy Evans (one of my absolute favorites!). Today's email really got me thinking, and there were a few golden nuggets I just had to keep, while adding my thoughts--not to improve upon, but make personal.

Jimmy writes:

"In the eyes of God, our story was far more significant than two kids who fell in love and decided to get hitched."

Story. I love that word because I adore reading a well-written story. I've often thought of my life as a story unfolding--just take a look a the sub-header of my blog--but I've given far less thought to the fact that my life with Anthony, our marriage, tells a story just as well. Why have I restricted 'story' to an individual? For that matter, doesn't our family tell it's own story?

"God brought Karen into my life for ... purpose. God envisioned us as a couple long before we ever met. He knew exactly what I needed in a life partner. He created Karen with the gifts, talents, and attributes I most needed in a wife. He created me to meet her needs as well." [Jimmy Evans]

Most love stories we watch on film or read in books never touch this concept: that of finding a spouse that meets your needs instead of your wants. We speak in terms of the hair color we're attracted to, the build, those eyes. We even list out character traits such as sense of humor or fun or intelligent or handy. I wonder how my thoughts for my future husband would have been affected had I turned my prayers for him towards God's perspective instead of being so me-focused: "Can I please have someone who likes baseball and loves the outdoors and taking long walks on the beach?"

Thinking about it now, with lots of years of marriage under my belt, He probably would have said, "If he loves you, he will spend his time doing things with you that you love (and vice versa), but that's not how I look at partnership."

I never thought to pray for someone that would sharpen me and challenge me and encourage me to become a rockin woman of God. Someone who would have talents and skills and attributes that not only complimented me but were also different (gasp!) from mine. And maybe to pray for my future husband to have eyes like God, to see like He does, and have a heart always seeking to be more like Jesus.

Do you see the difference? I know that God created us visual creatures, men more so, and that part of the love connection equation includes attraction and chemistry. God has to draw us to someone initially, doesn't He? But what if our prayers were so focused on the heart of our future spouse--the way God sees (1 Samuel 16:7)--that we trusted God for the rest of our 'wants'? How much different might we enter the convenant of marriage?

"We understood little about what we were getting into. We barely survived those early years." [Jimmy Evans]

I deeply resonate with this in my marriage to Anthony. I was no more prepared the second time around than I was the first, I simply brought in years of mothering experience, lots of wounds and no greater perspective on the real purpose for marriage. I owe our survival to nothing more than God's massive covering of grace and a handful of godly people speaking into our lives at just the right moments.

"But here's what I know: If I had seen [Karen] as someone God created especially for me, I never would have disrespected her as often as I did in our first years together. I never would have taken her for granted. I would have loved her more, treated her better, and been more patient, thoughtful and tender. I would have listened better and worked harder to meet her needs. I would have cherished her, nurtured her, encouraged her, treasured her, and helped her become what God intended her to be." [Jimmy Evans]

Oh, I would have too with Anthony. I would have too. But here's what I know: God is our Redeemer (Isaiah 47:4) and is capable of taking any number of years we feel we may have survived and turning them into beauty (Isaiah 61:3). The story He wants to write with our marriages began with His heart for Adam and Eve:

"God formed Adam and eve to build a lifelong love affair with each other, to walk hand-in-hand in the Garden, to keep each other warm at night, to work out problems when they disagreed--to grow in love and learn how to navigate life together as a married couple." [Jimmy Evans]

I know that Cinderella will forever enchant the hearts of little girls because it's meant to--it's a fairytale. But for me now, I'd much rather have my {love} story look like Carl and Ellies.

 SO. THIS. IS. LOVE.

21 Days of Renewal

If God gives such attention to the wildflowers...

Last week the thought, the desire, began stirring ... 21 days. I asked questions--of myself and God. And He asked one very intentional question of me, "What has become your source of comfort?"

The honest answers brought to light the heart behind His question dripping with the love of a good, good Father. And so I answered: food (baking and consuming sweets to kill boredom and soothe a weary soul), wine (a glass was no longer just something I enjoyed--because I do love wine--but it was becoming my blankie at the end of a hard day), and TV (the shows were moving from entertainment to my place of escaping a hard season and losing myself in someone else's story).

It was glaringly obvious: my sources of comfort--in a long, drawn out season of financial struggle--have turned outward, external. No, I haven't outgrown my clothes, but they are definitely snug in all the wrong places. No, I don't need Alcoholics Anonymous. And I'm not disconnecting cable because it's the 'bad guy'.

No, it's not about those things--my love to bake or to enjoy a glass of wine or a certain TV program--it's about my heart and my source. When I realized I was filling my time (or desires) with these things, I also realized I was neglecting prayer, Bible reading, writing and worship. And trust me when I say that it's not about replacing one thing with another; it's about recognizing my choice to [re]source my affections and desires--to fill time and a sense of emptiness and boredom with substitutes. I was growing apathetic. I was struggling with too many days of just not caring what I did that day. It felt like work to just simply desire what I had loved doing previously, let alone do them.

Write? Not in the mood.
Spend an hour in praise and worship? Not in the mood. Plus, I forgot to charge my iPod.
GO to church? Not in the mood. I'd rather watch from home so I don't have to get dressed.
Read? Not in the mood. That requires my brain to engage.
Eat healthy? Not in the mood to plan the meals and shop well. Plus, it requires more than my budget can handle right now, so why even bother?

It's not that every day was or is a struggle or that I sat or sit on my couch from sunrise to sunset. No, this past week God began stirring in me the awareness to look at where I am today--to recognize the "slow fade" now--so that I don't wake up tomorrow and find myself lost in an every day struggle.

And so I did...

An outline of what these 21 days would look like started to form in my heart. And on Easter Sunday I read a thought that further set what was brewing in my spirit: a time to reset, to renew.

[Renew: to make like new; restore to freshness, vigor or perfection.]

Yesterday morning I woke up with these 21 days first thing on my mind. It had been cemented in. My commitment switch had been flipped 'on' while I had slept. And so I began my 21 Days of Renewal.

TO RENEW MY MIND: no TV and no DVR'ing to catch up.

TO RENEW MY SPIRIT: feasting on the Word of God and two books I've committed to reading through (Beyond Boundaries: Learning to Trust Again in Relationships and Fathered by God).

TO RENEW MY BODY: no food, only liquids--mostly water, some fresh juice on specific occasion, and my morning cup of coffee (cuz God's not religious or legalistic).

TO RENEW MY HEART: putting to memory the scripture passage below, for now and for always. I've also put a few prayer requests before God, some needing some pretty quick answers and others needing direction.

"If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes." Matthew 6:30-34 [The Message}

It's not that I plan on forever giving up food (well, that's kind of obvious) or wine or TV. I know God has called me on this 21 day journey to not only renew my source, but to also reset the way I think about the external things. He's calling me to sacrifice temporarily in order to reprioritize eternally.

On Guns and Bullets

The words shot out at the screen. BAM! BAM! BAM! They weren't focused on the quality of the script or the cinematography efforts of the film being watched, but instead aimed at one of the characters within the story. Like bullets being shot out of a gun pointed directly at the female lead, each sentence was pulling the trigger at her assumed affiliation with a world view that didn't match the gun holder's. And the gun holder was letting her (and us) know it.

what? why?

I love a good story, whether I get the opportunity to read it in a book or see it on the big screen or rent it from Redbox ... I love a good story. I love well written characters and plot lines and intentional pacing. And I most love stories that make me think--that cause me to question where I currently stand on a life matter or even shake the foundation of the easy, American-styled life I live.

But that gun ... and those bullets? They were filled with a personal disgust for the fictional character's decisions, and they made me immediately question why?

What causes a soul to become so rankled by a fictional movie?
How can a fabricated character crawl under skin so easily?
What does she represent that provokes judgment?
Why does there seem to be an air of satisfaction at her suffering?

The human character is complex. As I walk through this season of life, I am even more aware of that fact. And I believe we are so complex, in part, because glory highlights flaws. And one can't see truth without recognizing the lie. And words are always revealing.

This is not judgment, but perspective. Those words could have come from me. Those kinds of words have come from me.

I've heard it said that the way we judge others is really just a [re]presentation of the way we judge ourselves--the way not being the particulars, but the heart attitude. When judgment towards others is harsh, does that mean we are just as harsh with ourselves, or even more so?

As I journey deeper into my relationship with Jesus, my spirit is becoming more and more sensitive to words. I find myself listening not to just what's being said, but becoming actively attentive to hear what is being revealed by what's being said. Scripture states that anything that proceeds from the mouth proceeds from the heart (Matthew 15:18). Trust me when I declare that my words have betrayed my heart too many times in the past and still do to this day ... and the cleansing of the foul muck in my heart is a huge part of my Jesus journey here on earth. I am not innocent in this area and I do not take pride in it either; I'm just choosing not to hide from it.

I want to hear others with an openness to origination and revelation. I want to hear myself the way I want to hear others--to know my words' origins and to be changed at the core by their revelation. I want to hear, not so I can judge, but grow.

Hope Allows

5:12am. Wednesday. January 30.

I woke up at 3:30am with my head and heart very actively engaged in processing life. Yesterday was a difficult day in our family as we processed news that played out completely different than what we had anticipated, even expected.

In this world of so much heartbreak and suffering, our news was not earth shattering, but it was still disappointing. Our sophomore, who has grown up with a baseball in one hand and a glove on the other, was given news that his place on this year's high school team is one of demotion, not promotion: 2nd string catcher on the 3rd of three teams. Basically, he received the last available slot for his position on the high school roster ... one step away from having been cut altogether.

Receiving his one-word text "JV2", my heart immediately dropped for him. After a series of questions and short replies between him and me, his astonishment and discouragement were evident. This was not the news he was expecting to hear as he stepped inside the coach's office yesterday morning. With an entire school day and first after school practice still ahead, those of us at home were left with more questions than answers (as I'm sure my sophomore was too).

How? What happened?

By the time I picked him up from school ten hours later, my heart was more concerned for how he was doing and feeling than figuring out the roster results. He was downcast, defeated, discouraged and angry. I know anger; it's how we process pain when we don't know what to do with it.

From the time he was two he carried a ball and glove around wherever he went. He watched complete baseball games on TV with his grandpa at age five. He could recite line-ups and player positions of his favorite team, the Angels, at six-years-old. He has lived, breathed and loved the purity of this game for all the years he can remember ... me too.

And then he's basically told that he was "kept in the program" because the new freshman coach highly recommended him; a coach that could only judge him from a few days of tryouts. His talent and skills and 18 months practicing under the watchful eyes of the Varsity coaches hadn't convinced them, but the new coach did. Talk about a blow to his dreams and his hopes and his reality.

His eyes told me all he felt without saying a word. Sliding into the front seat of our car, shoulders slumped and arms loaded with uniform colors he didn't think he'd have to wear again this year, his body language spoke even louder. My heart was breaking badly for my son and I didn't have the words that would make him feel better. Through conversation I could only help him process what neither of us really understood and pray that God would hold his heart and help him process through the pain of disappointment. Life is disappointing and none of us escape that. But gosh, it's so hard to watch one of your children live through it.

So ... this morning. My head. My heart. All those questions and residual heartache. I got up in the dark knowing I was sacrificing sleep for what was more important: I needed to hear from God--needed my soul settled and encouraged, and wanted something to give my sophomore to hold onto today; a piece of God's heart that reminded him to keep looking up, not out.

And then I read this:

"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see." Hebrews 11:1 [NLT]

When you think about the future, are you hopeful? Or do you struggle with a sense of dread? ... A close cousin to fear, dread steals the ability to enjoy ordinary life and makes people anxious about the future. Hope is the opposite of dread, and a close relative of faith. ... Hope allows us to leave our unanswered questions in God's hands; it empowers us to live in peace, and it enables us to believe the best about the days to come. You can have hope when you trust in God's love. He has the power to provide for you and lead you through every situation. [Joyce Meyer]

I don't read that verse and think its inference is that everything we hope for in [this] life will magically come true. This is not a "God in a genie in the bottle" type of verse. Considering our treasure should be placed in the eternal things, God does not promise that all our "earthly hopes" will come true.

My sophomore is not promised a career in baseball making millions of dollars playing for a major league team simply because he "hopes" for that. His hope to be a Sooner and play for OU is not written in stone in the Heavenlies (that we're aware of yet anyway). His hope of catching for his high school varsity team is even on shaky ground from where he sits today. But that doesn't mean he's been instructed to stop hoping; instead, he is to be secured by his faith in a God who holds his unanswered questions (for now) and encourages him to press on and in while depositing peace and power to pursue the days, weeks and months ahead trusting in God's plan that is still unfolding.

Hope is a precarious thing. It can feel like we're walking a tight-rope at times without a visible net below us. And disappointment is like a tremor to our foundation of faith. It shakes us, but doesn't have to shift us.

Hope allows us [the choice] to leave our unanswered questions in God's hands. The choice is ours ... always ours.

Visiting: The Grace Perspective

"It's amazing how much more mercy I give to people who struggle with sins I understand." [Michael Cheshire, Going to Hell with Ted Haggard, Christianity Today, December 2012}

Ouch! Did I really just read that? And why did I catch myself catching my breath?

"You guys can't forgive him and let him back into your good graces. Every time you talk to me about God, you explain that he will take me as I am. You say he forgives all my failures and will restore my hope, and as long as I stay outside the church, you say God wants to forgive me. But that guy failed while he was one of you, and most of you are still vicious to him." Then he uttered words that left me reeling: "You Christians eat your own. Always have. Always will."

These were just the first of many thoughts that reached right into my gut and yanked at the fibers of what I believe about grace and stirred the pot of how conditional it is in my life.

Going to Hell with Ted Haggard [What I Learned about Grace and Redemption Through my Friendship with a Christian Pariah] is one of the most thought-provoking pieces I've read in quite a while. Not that I haven't read my share, but this man, Michael Cheshire, just dared to put us face-to-face with the ugly side of grace (catch my sarcasm here because grace was never intended to be ugly).

Truth be told, I would bet my next paycheck (if I earned one) that most people can relate to one side of this story or the other: the Christian sinner cast aside for daring to sin or, if we're throwing all caution to the wind for the sake of utter transparency, the person who has done the casting. Shoot, we've probably all sailed in both boats at one time or another. I know I have.

I think the reason this article touched such a tender spot in me is because I remember the unveiling of this "scandal", the media coverage it received and the venom it produced. Sadly, once I was over my shock of learning that a pastor, of all people, (more sarcasm) could fall from grace so harshly, I remember thinking along the lines of this thought pointed out in the article:

"Most Christians would say God can forgive him, but almost universally people agree that God will never use him again."

I shudder now when I realize that type of judgment resided in my heart just over six years ago, but I smile in thankfulness when I recognize that God has brought me a long way on the journey of learning grace in my life, although I still have a ways to go. Who am I to label someone "unusable"? In other words, "Who died and made me God?"

Now I read stories like this one and nod my head in agreement with the author's next line:

"'Why can't God still use Ted?" After all, I reasoned, Jesus restored Peter after he denied Christ."

But unless I trail off my intended path for this particular blog, I will let the "usable or unusable" topic sit for the time being. (For the record, I would stand in the "usable" line if asked to pick a side.) No, what struck me the most about these particular phrases is two-fold: 1) the grace partnership with restoration and, more importantly, 2) the basic necessity for grace itself.

I have a lot of thoughts spinning around my head, and I could easily digress here, but I've been really challenged by the whole topic of grace as I give it and live it. What's hit me is the notion that I have no problem reading this article and wholeheartedly agreeing that Ted Haggard deserves grace and restoration, not because he's earned it but precisely because he doesn't have to earn it, should not be made to earn it.

And yet...

In familiar fashion to the opening quote of this blog, I can say, "It's amazing how much more grace I give to those whose lives I view from afar, but I struggle with it when you own a piece of my heart."

Why do I hand out grace on a silver platter to the man down the street, or the person on Facebook I barely know, yet my grace has its limits and its conditions when it's tested by the same person(s) time and again? Is it still grace if it has limits, which in reality makes it conditional? If grace is unmerited then who am I to say, "Today you are worthy, tomorrow you are not. The first few times I'll cover you in grace, after that, dude you're on your own."

I mean, really ... who am I?

I either believe in the totality of grace or I don't, right? I either believe it's truly unmerited, in all circumstances for all people, or I don't, right?

But what if I don't? Why don't I?

Like I touched on in my Visiting blogs from last week (Grief and Reality), I am in a place of examining everything, and grace is that place today. I don't have the answers yet, but I am--at the least--willing to ask the questions.

Every journey starts somewhere.

Unbound

Seven days ago I sat down and wrote the following blog:

"Writing is an act of worship. It's choosing perfect words and placing them in precise order. It's downloading and concentrating life's epiphanies to a microchip of influence. The purpose of taking pen in hand to illuminate the face and heart of God; and the result is to aid humankind in the process of being changed into His likeness. I can't write unless I am inspired by nothing less than Him--not my ideas or creativity or thought process or experience. Him." Bonnie Saul Wilks

It's a quiet kind of Sunday morning as I head out to my balcony, coffee and laptop in hand, chair already positioned in the shade from days ago. These times are few and far between anymore: the solitude of thought and technology woven with the warmth and peace of the unhurried sunrise.

The past few months have not held a very productive season of writing for me, and this blog shows it. Not because my heart stopped thinking or bits of heavenly revelation ceased to break through into my tiny piece of inhabited earth. Quite the contrary. There's been an abundance of life and countless ruminating moments and God ordained epiphanies. Enough that I could have been here--writing--every day.

But my daily routine--even as unroutine as it is--was flipped on its head when my husband became a full-time presence in our home. February brought unexpected news of company downsizing and with the loss of his job came the surrender of a very appreciated and helpful tool: a company laptop he used both at work and home. Owning only one laptop personally, and with lives that are greatly intertwined with the Internet, decreasing from two computers to one was a pinch deeply felt.

I once had a laptop I called "mine" (although I shared it with our kids) that allowed me the freedom to tackle the technology tethered side of my life as I pleased. Emails, spreadsheets, budget tracking, home school, bill paying, social media, reading, writing, researching, etc. were done throughout my day at will. Flexibility is not only a requirement with my role responsibilities, ironically, it's also a key factor in remaining sane on days where schedules are crazy and I log hours of chauffeur time in the car. 

But it's the sharing of this one laptop that has strictly limited my time and access, and in turn, has bound me and my words. Often I am too discouraged to write, for the choice between productivity and creativity always looms.

Writing has always been about a moment of seized opportunity--a Carpe Diem of words and time--when I can't go one more minute without allowing my fingers to speak through the keyboard, spilling inside-out my thoughts and emotions and God's unveiled truths. Purging is cathartic and necessary. When held within, too many words cause me to feel burdened. Heavy. Writing frees me. Without it, I seem to shrivel.

Sensory stimulus is also a necessary part of thought release; my linguistic spring board of sorts. A desk, an office chair and a static monitor do not stir the pot of words in my soul. Give me an open window, or better yet, an unlocked door to the bounty of life outside these four walls and it is then that I am unleashed, free to roam in contemplation and creativity.

I need to personally witness the occasional hawk soaring among the clouds of the blue sky, breathe in the fresh air, regardless of what temperature the digital thermometer reads, and listen to the harmony of a bird's song and cricket's chirp mixed with the intermittent sound of a car door closing or engine turning over. Every moment out there is the potential catalyst for a new idea recorded here.

But it's the restriction of time with this shared laptop that has bound me, and the heaviness of this word load inside me is beginning to take its toll.

I take a step outside. Butterflies are thriving this year. I don't just want to read about them through a post on someone's wall or see them via a friend's Twitpic. I want to marvel at their spotted wings and tongues that curl like cinnamon rolls with my own eyes. And those birds that are a constant presence on the rain gutter above my living room window? I want to listen to them with my own ears and wonder what they're communicating to one another ... or their Creator. Their song is like a beautiful prayer language. I don't know what is being said, I just know that they are speaking and that God is listening.

It's in moments like these where sight and sound becomes the invitation and inspiration to write.

"Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can't see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of His divine being." Romans 1:20 [MSG]

I look and listen, asking for mystery to be unveiled through creation; for the Hand of Heaven to reach down and write His Words on my heart.

"God's glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon. Madame Day holds classes every morning, Professor Night lectures each evening. Their words aren't heard, their voices aren't recorded, but their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere. God makes a huge dome for the sun - a super dome! The morning sun's a new husband leaping from his honeymoon bed. The day-breaking sun an athlete racing to the tape." Psalm 19:1-4 [MSG]

A lone bird has flown through balcony openings between guard rail and ceiling five separate times in just as many minutes. I stop. Always stop and give an audience to the comings and goings of God's creatures. She is "this close" to me. Fluttering, even pausing mid-air, repetitively looking for a place to land. But rest is not found here for her. I want to capture this moment on film, but the thought comes too late. Her investigation has concluded and a subsequent choice to locate a wider beam is made. As she flies away, I wonder if God's creatures are as fascinated with my movements and sounds as I am with theirs? I shake my head in answer to my own question. Probably not. He did not create us for them, but them for us. 

I pause to ponder and stop to see, soaking in what can only be enjoyed in moments of intermission, and I realize how much I have missed these writing recesses--deliberate sojourns in my day taken with the sole purpose of becoming and transcribing inspiration--of hearing Him in bird's song, seeing Him in soaring wings and inhaling Him in morning breeze. With this computer in my lap, I record much of what I experience--embers of ideas holding the potential of completed word offerings.

But it's the sharing of this laptop that has bound me and my words and restricted my access to opportunities like these. Or has it?

Oh, how a week can change circumstances, even when nothing but perspective is shifted. Let me explain...

In April, Anthony and I were meeting with a friend at church (actually he was meeting and I was tagging along). Through our discussion said friend concluded correctly that as a family we were sharing one laptop and popped up with, "Could you guys use an iMac? It's an older one, but I don't use it anymore and would love to bless your family." Whaaaat? Within 24 hours we had the computer in our home and set up at the family desk. Every time I walked by it I was blown away by God's goodness and the utmost generosity of this friend.

What tickled me even more was that four years earlier Anthony had shown me an iMac at the Apple store in Southlake and told me that it was the computer he wanted for our family, but we weren't in a place of needing or affording a new system. Within that time frame we went from four computers to one: two Windows desktops crashed (because that's just what they do) and my MacBook died (because I accidentally spilled some coffee on it), and we've been operating with our lone laptop for the past year.

With this gift, God not only doubled the computer access in our home but, more significantly, He also blessed us with the very computer my husband had desired for our family. That's not just provision but Ephesians 3:20 abundance.

Here's how I tie today's thoughts with the blog above: When we brought the iMac home we had the choice of using it as our family computer or setting it up in our bedroom (which is also Anthony's office) and allowing the family to use the laptop. We decided the iMac was the better choice for the family for three reasons: the MB Pro has years of life on it for both Anthony and me, the substantial monitor on the iMac allows us to easily view what our kids are doing on the internet and it just made sense because it was the very system Anthony had talked about for years. So I moved the files I absolutely needed from the laptop to the iMac and relished, albeit shortly, the opportunity to accomplish my responsibilities during daytime hours instead of waiting until evening when Anthony could relinquish the laptop.

What I quickly discovered was that everything I worked on, from finances to personal email, was visible to anyone who walked by because our family computer is located in a high traffic area and the large iMac monitor puts everything on easy display. On the creative scale, I found writing difficult because "A desk, an office chair and a static monitor (facing a blank wall) do not stir the pot of words in my soul."

Within weeks I curtailed my usage on the iMac until the kids had gone to bed (for privacy) and found myself right back in the same quandary I had previously been in when sharing the laptop: working and writing later in the night, or not at all, because daytime hours contained obstacles and evening hours were filled with dinner, family time and chauffeuring responsibilities. The iMac was a huge blessing and joy for our kids, and for that I was over-the-moon thankful, but it just wasn't working for me. Or was it?

Fast forward 60 days, past April's gift and last Sunday's lament, to yesterday's epiphany that brought a large slice of freedom to our household ... okay, really to me. While working at the iMac God asked me, "Why is the static computer out here and the portable laptop in there (our bedroom) when Anthony is always sitting at the desk working? Wouldn't it make more sense to bring the laptop out here so that you can have the freedom you need to unplug and move about?"

*Insert the sound of God's common sense brick hitting me upside the head*

[And there's a bonus ... the kids don't even have to touch the laptop because we have an external mouse and keyboard attached, and we can still see their movement on the internet because we have a large dual monitor set up next to it.]

"There is a way that seems right to man, but in the end it leads to death." Proverbs 14:12

Allow me a little latitude with this scripture. I know it references our choices in life leading to eternal death, but on a surface level it fits this situation. For months I had been shriveling (dieing) inside--from a way that seemed right--when the answer was in front of me the entire time. God had not only provided a second computer to solve the laptop sharing dilemma, but had also made a way for the flexibility (life) my soul craved. My eyes were so focused on the what-made-the-most-sense-details that I completely missed the forest for the trees. I can hear Gateway's freedom teaching resounding in my head now: "We have to get you to remove your hand from in front of your face so God can show you the bigger picture."

And yes, in case you doubted, God is interested in and even cares about the seemingly insignificant "life problems" such as how to best share computers because we're told that "the very hairs on our heads are numbered" (Luke 12:7), and that seems like pretty useless information to me.

Hand gone. Vision caught. Problem solved. Freedom found.

I am now unbound.

Inspired Scribe

While at a Gateway Leadership event in January, a man who was there to speak prophetically over the group said these words before delivering the word God had given him, "Never devalue the Word of God given to you." Basically, he was saying to put value to every word God speaks to you, whether through Himself or through others. Never let it fall to the wayside because you haven't seen its fruit yet or because it doesn't fit for your "right now" life. (and that's with the understanding that you have already taken said word to God to confirm that it really is for you.)

With that said, I am taking the time today to record the various Words God has purposed to speak to me through various people. They'll all be housed under the label of Prophecy, so if you're interested in reading God's heart for me over the years, choose that label.

Today, at our last large group meeting for this year of Titus 2, each set of Small Group Leaders had a prophetic word for each person within their specific small group. A word they had sought God for earlier that week. Here's mine:

Babs: Inspired Scribe

For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, and do not return there, But water the earth, and make it bring forth and bud, that is may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall My Word be that goes forth from My mouth; it shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it. (Isaiah 55:10-11)

As I prayed for you I felt the Lord was saying, "You have a story to tell about Me. It's one of great adventure, mystery and a love that never fails. It's different than what you're used to doing. This story, about Me, will change hearts for My kingdom. I've set the stage. By My Spirit, you are inspired with the details."

God has been speaking to me [directly] about my writing since I moved to Texas. Actually, my first Word about writing came from Him in the summer of 2007. I had already been blogging because I've always been one who journals, just never consistently. Back then I assumed it was about my blog. That people would be drawn there for inspiration because I'm very transparent about my life, the ups and downs, the flesh of me and the spirit. But in the past few years God has expanded His reach through me via Destiny In Bloom, a women's online magazine. And in the past year He has spoken quite a few times about a future book that I will write.

As a matter of fact, during one of my first few small group meetings for Titus 2, one of my leaders, who at that time really knew nothing about me, "prophetically punched me in the arm" (there's a story behind that) when another member mentioned her ability to give free radio publicity for anyone who needed it, like if they had a book to the word out about. That's when she punched me (it didn't hurt) as a reaction to what her spirit sensed about book writing and me. She said that that word was for me and the book I would write. What??? She didn't know a thing about me and yet still delivered that impression ... that was obviously strong enough for her to react physically. :)

I don't know what God wants to write through me when it comes to a published book, but I know (because of another Word I received at Titus 2 in our large group meeting), that if He opens the door, the only way I won't walk through it will be because of direct disobedience to Him.

So, I'm a writer. It's time to get disciplined and sink into my scripture verse for 2012: No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. [Hebrews 12:11]

Team KK

I am an avid reader of Karen Kingsbury's books because, as a fiction writer, she has an incredible knack for using words to pull you into her stories and make you feel as if you know her characters like family. She just posted another opportunity to become part of Team KK, and both Teighlor and I posted our submissions for a chance to win. Below is the info and my response (because I thought it would be fun to have this post on my blog and look back if I get chosen):

TEAM KK NOTICE: It's that time again!!!
I will choose 30 of you to win an ADVANCE COPY of LOVING for the purpose of REVIEWING it for our FACEBOOK FRIENDS here in my virtual living room!! I will also choose 30 of you, whose comments I will publish in an upcoming book.
HOW TO ENTER: Write 1-3 lines describing me as an author or the way you feel about my books. Also include 1 line about why you want to be on TEAM KK. I will choose 30 of you whose comments I will publish in an upcoming book. OR I may choose you among an additional 30 people to be on TEAM KK. If you are chosen to be on TEAM KK, you will receive the book next week and you will need to submit a 250-word review by Friday, March 9. NO SPOILERS, of course :) Please only enter if you are able to do this :)
You will receive a private message tomorrow if you are a winner.
Submit your comment about me or my books below this post. You could win by having your comment selected for a future book, or by being selected as TEAM KK, to review an advance copy of LOVING.
Entries can be submitted through 8 a.m. Friday (PST).
Here we go!!! Love you all :)

"In a world inundated with writers who fill pages with hopeless violence, excessive indulgence and unnecessary promiscuity, Karen always captures my heart with characters that become family members and story-lines filled with hope, redemption and the transforming power of God's love. Her books are shining lights in a dark world."

"I want to be on Team KK to get even a small chance to be a part of Karen's ministry through the faithful use of her God-give gift with story-telling would be the opportunity of a lifetime for this devoted reader."

Team KK gets chosen this week. I'm hoping that both of us get picked, but if I had to be honest, it would thrill me most if Teighlor was chosen because she lives and breathes Karen's books, even to the point of reading some multiple times.

God, would you bless Teighlor with this special opportunity? Love, her Mom

my little [pinkheart]

there are moments when GOD reaches out his hand and reminds me [who] he is in such unexpected ways. this morning, he did just that.

as i sat here, ready to write down my moment with GOD, i realized i'd never taken the time to write down my [pinkheart] transformation from pink impact back in april. so much was going on with heather that by the time life settled my pink memories were tucked safely inside my pink journal.

without going into the full story behind my [pinkheart] transformation, which will become its own blog very soon, i'll just state that GOD opened the heavens and poured love into me, transforming my gray heart of stone into a pink heart of flesh; not flesh as in 'walking in the flesh' but flesh as in 'no longer hard and closed but now soft and open'.

yesterday i was wrestling with doubt and fear. they sabotaged me in the form of "giants in the promised land". i was focused on what my eyes could see instead of what my GOD has promised me. my husband, seeing those pesky critters (doubt and fear), reminded me of the giants in the promised land and spoke right to my unwanted visitors.

side note: this is a part of marriage that i love, love, love! GOD knows that a primary benefit of joining one+one {twogether} is that when {one} is stumbling around, the {other one} is available to pick them up. yesterday, my {other one} did just that.

this morning, still feeling the remnants of my wrestling match, i decided to soak in some worship music. forgetting to make my next song choice before my current song was over, my shuffler landed on [you are for me]. i sat back, closed my eyes and just let the music wash over me. as the lyric "even if to write upon my heart" was sung, i asked GOD what he wanted to write on my heart today. not knowing what to expect, he opened my spiritual eyes and showed me this:

he reached out his hand and with his finger he wrote on my little [pinkheart] the word: FAITHFUL. as the song continued, he wrote the words: patient, gracious, merciful, true and wonderful; one on top of the other. the chorus began again and as the lyrics wound their way to "i know that you will never forsake me in my weakness", GOD won the race to my flesh and covered me with himself just before I could steal his moment away with guilt over yesterday's weakness. and when i say he covered me, he kinda literally did.

still seeing my [pinkheart], GOD reached out both hands, wrapped them behind my heart and then ... well, he brought his cheek down and pulled my heart to his cheek. and then he just nuzzled it--my little [pinkheart]--like a child would nuzzle their favorite stuffed animal close to their cheek. i was this close to becoming consumed by yesterday's weakness, but GOD invaded that moment and, with purpose, overwhelmed me with such tender affection.

yes, he was well aware of my weakness, but that's not what he was focusing on. my flesh wanted to rid itself of the condemnation of doubt and fear. GOD came to love on me; knowing that by doing so, he wasn't just removing fear and doubt, he was filling me with himself.

this act of my daddy so sweetly loving his little girl caught me off guard. i was overcome with sobs of gratefulness, knowing he could have just forgiven me for my weakness--which wouldn't have been wrong--and i would have felt better ... but GOD went far beyond my expectations ... he wrote [who] he is on my little [pinkheart].