simple words

And so there it was- in the strangest of places, in the middle of no where, completely unexpected. As is often the case. 

I had never been to this area before and I honestly only knew my general location; Tennessee. I was along for the ride run that weekend and this particular day was spent in the woods along a river and ultimately it led me here; Be love. So that's where I was.

In this particular season of my life, this word comes up often and sits in the front row with it's hand held up high. What is love exactly? Is it something you fall in? slip in? discover? uncover? run into? 

or be?

What I do know is this: love is patient, kind, does not envy, boast, or dishonor others- it is not self seeking, not easily angered, keeps no records of wrongs, and rejoices with truth- it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres and {because of what it is at all times}...it never fails. (1Cor. 13)

A few weeks previously I journaled these verses and mistakenly wrote:

allways protects, allways trusts, allways hopes, allways perseveres.

Duh but YES!

Love is at all times, in every way; 
an always, in all ways.

It's about BE-ing. 

How am I being love? Am I always, in all ways? 

What does that look like on a daily basis?

So I'm still wrestling with more questions than answers and I still don't feel sure of my exact location...but I'm hopeful about being found in the strangest of places, in the middle of the unexpected moments in life, with simple words~

   

always. all ways. 

Be love. 

White space.

Snow drizzles sideways and white blankets cover every nook and cranny. Little flakes of white magic floating through the air as cancellations begin flooding in. The calendar bursts wide open as cheers echo and fist bumps celebrate- the gift of white space suddenly surrounds, "Tuesday, February 09, 2016."

On these days, the trickling speed of snow changes time and heart rates. Snow days offer a Sabbath; rest that feeds hunger pains and hope that fills emptiness- manna from Heaven.

As snow continues to fall, pieces of His peace cover over, soak in, and saturate with love.

There is no earning it, no deserving it, 

no cleaning up to warrant it- 

there is only accepting it.

It's what our soul needs more than anything else today~ and it sticks to the surface of every open space. 

And for that which isn't?- He waits patiently. 
Can you sit with that for a bit?

For the marriage holding by a fraying thread- 
He is your strength for the weaving.
For the heart aching from brokenness- 
He is your healing words of you are mine.
For the anxiety paralyzing every question- 
He is your answer moving forward.
For those desperate for something- 
He is your missing piece Peace for the emptiness.
  

when He speaks

 

I was then, I am now; Creator.

I exhaled and dust took 

its first breath.

 Life began.

I still breath in you.

 

I moved my hand and a heart

had rhythm.

A soul formed.

I still move you.

I created your very existence 

fully dependent on me,

Abide in me, and I in you.

A sacred dance of your needs 

coupled in the hand of my provisions,
 I will lead you.
  
Be brave little one~
Breath of my breath,

rhythm of my heart.
 For wherever you are,

I am with you.

The weaving in

The empty boxes were ready to be filled, 

soon to bulge with ornaments, 
lights, garland and bows.

Traditions wrapped tightly and tucked away;

 another holiday season of precious memories 
sealed into the hearts of my favorite little people.
I look at the empty red boxes and it's almost 
as if magical pixie dust gets stored under the lids.
 Something that sprinkles change all over our 
perspective and priorities.
They don't know it yet,
but one day they will look back 
and it will be 
the little things.
Those gifts without wrapping paper or bows.


The couch that stayed pulled out into a bed
for 2 1/2 weeks, just so they could fall asleep
under the Christmas lights.
The ornaments that were hung together as a family of 5;

 an increasingly rare moment.  
The nightly Christmas movie with no concern for bedtime.
The jammie party with steaming hot cocoa.
The laughter. 

The Christmas coloring book 
that came to life with each new color.
  The conversations of a baby born in a manger;
 named Emmanuel~ God with us.
 

Madelyn and I begin separating hooks from ornaments,
reminiscing her favorite parts of the past month
and the houses with the best lights. 
She pauses and a quiet washes over her,
"I'm not ready to put Christmas away".

I put the bag of hooks down.

Christmas 2015 was different than the past several years.
This year I didn't want disappointment's

 to tuck back in with the garland and bows. 

No "what wasn'ts"
to wrap back up in bubble wrap 
along with fragile glass bulbs.

This year I felt the conviction back in November,
before the trees ever went up; 
 the weaving in will work the grieving out.   

It's what we do in therapy~
Change doesn't come
by simply removing something from our life.
Danger looms in the voids left unattended. 
Long term change requires something in it's place.
The weaving in.

And so it was for us.
A season of intentional gifts.
Love (as it's spelled) unwrapped one night at a T.I.M.E.
 The present of being present.

 This Christmas was truly special
and our lighted (but ornamentless) trees are still up, 
savoring it all for just a bit longer.
A tender reminder of what Light does in the darkest nights
when we accept the greatest gift~
Emmanuel; God {woven in} with us.

SingleTrack

**originally written 2+ years ago**
Life has recently resembled a circus act, for which I have unknowingly applied. Ever feel like someone played a mean joke on your juggling act and handed you medicine balls instead of those fun, colorfully lighted circus balls? #theyarefired.
Here’s a small glimpse:

• At the end of February I spent several days (and a few long nights) in a hospital room, snuggled up with my very sick little girl who had Influenza B.
• I’ve held my 14 year old, 100 lb Weimaraner (Brody) and buried my face in his as we took our very last breaths together. I thanked him for all the miles we ran together but more importantly, I thanked him for the protection he diligently provided; he was the “Brody guard”. The miles that day were not my favorite.
• I’ve stared at a computer screen in complete shock, lost for words or a place to start; it was just the beginning of heart breaking information.
• The increasing pressure of the last stretch of graduate school.
• First time Mother to a teenager (that speaks for itself, right?).

After almost 2 months of this kind of craziness I now feel like things could be settling down a bit (don’t tell Murphy!).

Given how things have been lately~ you know, the circus career and all, I’ve been craving trails. Particularly singletrack trails. There is something about running a narrow path that does this woman good.

If you’re directionally challenged, it’s a smart idea. If you’re new to the particular trail, it’s an error proof out ‘n back. If metaphors speak to you, it never disappoints. 

I run this particular trail fairly regularly and feel incredibly blessed to call this home. I’ve never witnessed it myself but it appears that the cows walk this path every day as they head back to the barn. If it isn’t the cows I can vouch that something is in fact using the trail; think.large.piles.of.evidence (I’m not claiming those monsters and you're welcome for sparing you the visual!). They make for good hurdle practice and I’m in need of anything that would help jumping through hoops appear more graceful. I digress.

Anyway…I love running singletracks.
I love the feel; desolate. I love the room; for one.
I love the whispers; come this way.

The beauty for me recently in the singletrack is it’s steadiness. Counteracting the position of ringleader requires a balance of a simple place. A place to unplug from the over-stimulation. No decisions. No surprises. No detours or flexibility required. Steady.

The singletrack is an antidote in unpredictability. It’s stable. It’s obvious. It helps me self-regulate in the midst of uncertainties.

**Jan 6, 2016**
As I read these words that I found hiding in my drafts file, particularly the last line, I am struck by the truth of them still today. In the past 2 years I’ve trained on Monte Sano mountain on a daily basis; it’s truly where I love to run! The technical trails, the rugged, rocky mountains…it’s where I belong as a runner. However, I’ve needed to come back to this trail for much of the same reason as before…it’s steadiness. 
This time the more literal sense.

Stead-y: ADJ.- Firmly fixed, supported, or balanced; 
not shaking or moving.
Firm in position or sure in movement. 
Calm or reliable; constant.

For these reasons listed in my old fashioned, paperback version of the Webster's Dictionary of the English Language, I am back to let this land do what it has always done; balance the unsteady life. 

Training Wheels

*written in Aug, 2013*

A few weeks ago as I was folding clothes in the laundry room Andre bolted through the back door,

“Mom, hurry~ you’ve got to see this, quick!!”

I asked him for more details as to what was going on… I mean do I need to call Dakota out with his pellet gun? Should I bring a towel for a tourniquet? Or do I just need to get the camera? All of which would be totally normal for us on any given day. *sigh*

“No Mom, just come to the porch, fast~ Madelyn’s not a baby anymore!”

WHAT?? 

As I turned to look out the french doors, the look on my daughters glowing face said it all. Andre had decided that Madelyn, at the newest age of 6, was far to old for training wheels. So without hesitation, or permission, he disconnected the baby wheels and told Madelyn not to worry that he’d be there to help her balance. As it turned out she didn’t need the training wheels or Andre’s help… she pedaled off as if it was all she had ever known, much to Andre’s disappointment!! And that was that. She had officially crossed over to the other side. No longer a baby~ now officially a bike rider on a big girl bike.

We celebrated as anyone would expect~ pictures and video’s, calling extended family to announce the occasion, giggles over the new found freedom. But in the midst of the cheers and pomp and circumstance, I glanced over to the corner of the deck and noticed the discarded training wheels pushed off into the background, never to be thought of again. A part of me ached.

I gathered the seemingly unnecessary training wheels with their coordinating nuts and bolts, carried them inside and placed them carefully on my entertainment center~ though the kids no longer saw value there, I did. For me they are a simple reminder, encouragement for the days when I feel as if I’m losing my way as their Mother. The truth is that all of my children (from ages 6-16) still need the training wheels of discipline, guidance, boundaries, and support…they just look different for each of them. It’s one of the trickiest parts I’ve found in parenting; knowing how to guide my children through the various stages of development when they are all so very different and spaced out in ages. Not to mention trying to do it all at once and alone. Often it resembles a juggling act for "the greatest show on earth"... Barnum and Bailey has nothin' on us!

*written Feb 2015*

Since that day almost two years ago, these training wheels still sit in a wire basket in my living room. As I’ve reminisced the many miles these wheels have traveled, I’ve laughed myself silly and I’ve cried the kind of tears that only a Mother would know. These training wheels have served my 4 children well over the years but their value to me recently has been far greater than what can possibly be measured in miles on a bike.

When parenting feels overwhelming, that would be often, and I'm struggling to keep things in perspective I think about the "training wheels": guidance for the tricky terrain of life, support for the unexpected, balance for the high’s and low’s, confidence for the lack of experience, and direction towards the One who I pray they will follow!
If I get anything right, let it be those things!

As parents we know that all too soon our children will be independently steering the handlebars through their own journey~ It is my constant prayer that the training wheels of their childhood will serve them well and that God's grace will cover what I'm sure to miss!

A million little pieces

I was washing my face, brushing my teeth and doing the general night-time routine before I collapsed into bed. I was VERY DONE with this particular day and was no longer interested in mothering, refereeing, cleaning, or being upright for that matter; I needed sleep in a bad way! As is often the case, my shadow (aka Madelyn) was in the bathroom with me and I remember thinking she was not her normal self; quieter than usual. Normally there are rapid fire questions ranging anywhere from “Where is God really?” to “Why do you put your toothbrush there?” Not this night, she hadn’t said much until I turned off the light and attempted to usher her to HER OWN bed (lets just say her new horse sheets & quilt set that I recently bought hadn’t yielded the results I was hoping for! grrr).

Madelyn: “Mom, I just feel like I’m gunna cry and I don’t know why”

Me: “Cry? Did something happen?”

Madelyn: “I don’t know. I feel like my crying-ness is coming up inside of me and I don’t know why”

Her bottom lip was quivering, her voice cracking.

Immediately I put my ‘I’m done mothering today’ plans on hold, realizing there was an important moment that needed my attention. (Note to new Moms: these moments always happen when your too tired, had other plans, are depleted of energy and patience, and/or its very much past bedtime. Only then.)

I was so proud of her words that were so well stated for a just turned 6 year old. And yet I was concerned about what was instigating this “crying-ness” that was coming up inside of her **oh be still my beating heart!**

I brought Madelyn up into my bed (again, NOT what I had planned for the evening; wishing I had not spent the money on horse sheets after all) and held her tight.

Real tight. Tight enough to be sure that if she needed to cry, I’d catch every tear.

I ran through the list of things that were potentially at the root of this. She denied every one of my suggestions. She wasn’t particularly missing her Papi (Dad), her brother’s hadn’t said anything that had hurt her feelings, she wasn’t getting nervous about school (yet…); nothing.

So we just snuggled-it-out together. Wrapped up like a burrito in my arms, safe from whatever was burdening her…suddenly she was snoring and all was well again in her soul.

 

As I laid there, listening to the rhythm of her breathing, I was reminded of a ceramic bird I had bought many years ago while going through my divorce. It spoke about those moments in life when we feel like the warning label on an aerosol bottle, “Caution: contents under pressure”. A time in my life when I could literally feel myself coming undone. Cracking in places I knew I couldn’t hold together. The good news was: I didn’t have to.

As this little girl of mine, now completely in the land of nod, grows older and things become more complicated, I know she will need much more than I can ever give her in these moments…

Lord, as Madelyn goes through life, as she begins to feel the pressures of this world and her ‘crying-ness feels like it’s coming up inside of her’  ~ Father, hold her tight. Real tight. Just as you have in my life, just as this bird so perfectly reminds us…

when we’re in a million little pieces,

it is you that holds us together!

 

~He [Jesus] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. Colossians 1:15-17~