I'm still growing: from the heart of a 20-something.

2017-10-14T15:40:00.002-07:00

So much has changed since I wrote on this blog last. I mean, that's the point of life, really, for us to grow and change. The baby I blogged about is now almost 2 and has a little brother to play with. The house I blogged about is a distant memory as we're living on our new property in a 5th wheel trailer while we build. The dishes I blogged about are all packed away in storage for the next couple of years until we have a house to put them in.

If you're interested in following the adventure, I've started a new blog called Home Sweet Trailer and you're welcome to follow me there.

https://homesweettrailerblog.wordpress.com

Thank you for all the support!

Love,
Merrie

Priorities....

2016-07-20T11:19:00.002-07:00

It’s 10:30 in the morning and I find myself sitting down to a cup of cold coffee in my sweats. It was brewed 2 hours ago, but was set aside. I actually did get dressed this morning, but quickly decided sweats were more in order for the morning temperatures in our house and I changed.

(Not actually my kitchen, but pretty close)

The dirty dishes from last night stare at me from the kitchen and judgement pours out of their stare, trying to swallow me in guilt as if to say, “How can you even think of sitting down to your coffee when we’re still here? You’re a terrible housekeeper.”

Let me back up.

It’s 1 in the morning and the man child is awake again. I can hear him scooting his bassinet around, now its hitting the door of the closet. I know he doesn’t feel well by his fever and runny nose. He didn’t nurse very well yesterday, so I go to him, pick him up, change his diaper and feed him.

it’s 1:30 in the morning and I’m crawling back in bed. Somehow waking in the night makes my head pound all the more, and my throat rage. I snuggle into Josh and feel the heat of his fever radiating off of his back. I begin to pray.

It’s 1:45 in the morning and I’m up again, laying hands on the man child in prayer. I go between my husband and my son, interceding with the Father. “Heal them! Strengthen their bodies. Remove any illness and injury. Strengthen the tendons and fibers and muscles and joints. You are a good father, a powerful God, the healer of those who have faith to ask. You delight to give good things to your children, and these are your sons! Be glorified through the work you do in their bodies.”

It’s 3 in the morning and again I hear the squeak of the baby’s bed. It’s really time to upgrade him to a bigger (more stationary) bed. I get up, cradle him in my arms, listen to his clear breathing, and fall back asleep feeding him. I wake again with a squirming child at my side. Knowing he’ll sleep better on his own, I carry him back to his own bed.

The night passes on and dawn breaks the darkness early in north Idaho. I vaguely remember two more feedings before it’s actually time to get up around six-thirty. The man child begins to fuss again and I moan to Josh that I’ve exceeded my maximum ability to get up in the night. He kindly tucks the baby back in, and shuts both the baby’s door and our own before slipping out of the house to keep an early appointment with a friend. I get to burrow into the comforter and sleep for some sweet moments.

Now it’s 8am, and it’s a rush to get some breakfast into Josh and some lunch in his lunch box and out the door, since his first client is also at 8. Of course now the baby is awake and won’t be pacified again but must eat now. As the fires seem to subside, I start some coffee, make a bowl of yogurt, get dressed and get ready to sit down and wrap my head around the day.

I blink and now it’s 10:30. Somehow while my eyes were closing and opening again, three diapers were changed, baby was played with and a rough sketch of a shopping list was made. The laundry is finished and put away. I’ve made headway in my quest to track down a source for pasture raised eggs, and researched more healthy menu ideas to get more vegetables into our diet. I’ve put the power bill in the mail, attempted twice more to feed the baby, (who lately is enthralled with everything but eating during the daytime), and I sit down to my cold cup of coffee.

You know what, Dishes? You’re not my top priority. Yes, I’ll get to you, but I’m not going to set aside caring for my husband or baby for you, and neither am I going to let you negate all of the things I’ve already accomplished. Because you know what, Dishes? You’re not that big of a deal.

It’s 11:10 in the morning, the cold coffee is gone, the baby sleeps and these sweats are getting too warm. Okay, I guess I’ll go do the dishes now.

Lessons from the Little One

2016-05-11T09:01:00.001-07:00

I think that God, in all his wisdom, designed things so that babies don’t remember their first year. The first year is so crucial in brain and muscle development, but it’s also a pretty big deal in mom development.

I am positive that God designed it this way to give us moms a chance to figure out how to be moms without our babies being able to hold our rookie mistakes against us.

It sure has been a learning process, and interestingly enough, Tucker has had a better attitude about my shortcomings as a mom than I have.

There was that one day when I was trying to cram in too many errands between feedings and naps - Tucker woke up in the checkout line of the grocery store and started crying to tell me he was hungry. By the time I pull into the driveway and park he’s screaming his little head off. I still had to unload the perishable groceries, the baby and the diaper bag, run to the bathroom, and fix a snack so I didn’t pass out before I could sit down to feed the little guy. After what seemed like an eternity to both of us, I sat down and latched him on. He nursed frantically for about 30 seconds and then stopped to look up into my face and smile. And smile. And smile.

Sometimes I wonder if babies actually can remember stuff and they just have a greater capacity for forgiveness than we do. I can definitely see Tucker remembering a lot of things he’s learned in the 3 months he’s been born. And I don’t think any of us ever forget some of the essential life skills we learn in our first year, (crawling, eating, drinking, etc).

It’s no wonder Jesus said that we were to be like little children if we wanted to enter the kingdom of heaven. The way Tucker forgives so easily and completely. The way he trusts his parents implicitly. The way he will calm down when he hears my voice, and will spend hours of the day studying my face, as if there were nothing in the world he would rather do.

If I forgave the ones I felt wronged by as quickly and completely wouldn’t I walk in freedom and enter the kingdom of heaven right away?

"For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." Romans 14:17

If I looked at my heavenly Father with the same awe, adoration and dependency that little children look at their parents with - what a difference that would make in my peace and my joy!

"Rain, rain, go away...."

2015-04-25T11:43:00.003-07:00

Rain is really interesting, I realized this morning. I sat in front of the window looking out over the valley as the clouds rolled in. The fire was roaring in the wood stove, and with a cup of tea to warm my fingers, I was ready for whatever those clouds would bring, except that I had procrastinated on feeding the horses. The first drops drizzled down on my head while I went out to the barn to be greeted by Patches and Gunner, and the free range chickens who were seeking shelter from the wet.

Coming back in, I pass my herb garden which is drinking in the life coming down from heaven. The roman chamomile that was wilting and lying flat yesterday is perking up, and my basil plant looks like it is coming back to life.

Yes, it's cold, and it's wet, and it's soaking the firewood pile which means I have to carry logs in to dry them out, but for once, the rainy day feels joyful to me.

Rainy days definitely have a stereotype – stay inside, drink some coffee or tea, curl up with a book - (none of these are bad things to do, just sayin') that goes along with a mood, and that's where I run into a problem. Melancholy, dreary, discontented solitude isn't the way God designed me to live. There's something about rainy days that brings out the selfish in me. “I'm gonna do what I wanna do, because I don't feel like doing anything else.” (The attitude that sucks the life out of anyone around.)

But rain pours itself out on others and in conjunction with sunshine, brings life! The rain comes down until there isn't any rain left, or until the wind moves it away, and then the sun warms the earth, and it doesn't take a trained eye to see the beauty that comes of it. Isn't that how I ought to be living out my faith, and my love for the Lord?

Instead of rainy days being an invitation to serve myself, I want them to be a reminder for me to pour out love on others, so that in conjunction with the Spirit of God, life will spring up.

"...better than good enough."

2015-04-20T10:01:00.001-07:00

I've been challenged much lately by feelings of inadequacy. There's nothing like getting married and jumping from life in the city to life in a tiny cabin to let a girl know how much she DOESN'T know.

“Oh my goodness, that horse is dead!!”

“No babe, horses actually like to lay down in the sun like that.”

I'm so thankful for this season of my life, but if I was going to write a novel about it, it would be titled “The Great Adjustment”. All of the life skills that I previously thought were valuable seem unusable, and I've had to learn how to do everyday things.

Yes, I can navigate the grid of LA freeways in rush hour traffic and find 4 alternate routes to my destination. But we only have one road here, and part of it is gravel. “Some help you turned out to be” the enemy whispers.

Yes, I can whip up a 4 course dinner for 16 or 30, or even 40 people with an hour's notice (and a quick trip to Costco) but cooking for just me and my husband is baffling. “You're a terrible housewife!”

I could paint a house, assist with numerous drywall, plumbing, electrical, or even flooring projects, but my husband trains horses and takes care of their feet. And my knowledge of horses is minuscule. And again the enemy whispers, “You're worthless. You have nothing to offer.”

“Don't speak. Don't share. You can't help. You have nothing that they need.”

But Truth cries out and fights back. “NO! Lies! Lies! All lies!!”

And my husband assures me that he knew ahead of time that I wasn't a country girl and he really wanted to marry me, and he's glad he did.

And the Holy Spirit gently prods me to offer myself. Because God created me in His image and that is enough.

And in church yesterday my obedient and introverted friend stood up in front of everyone and spoke powerful words challenging me to step up and say “yes” to God when I am inadequate, so He receives all the glory when He does big things through me .

And the tag on my cup of tea this morning read “If you have nothing else to give, give a smile.”

So excuse me while I go split some logs to start a fire that will warm up this cabin before I go out to feed the horses, and then put our little home back in order after a crazy weekend. And even if I can't accomplish everything I set out to do, I will try my hardest, and I will smile. Because I am a child of God, and that is better than good enough.

Making a mark

2014-04-23T10:07:00.001-07:00

They were bigger, faster, stronger, smarter and older than we were - easily the best team in the co-ed community volleyball league. In simple terms, we'd won 5 games out of the 36 in the season, and they had lost 4.

We went up against them valiantly and played our hearts out, because that's the reason we came, and we really were steadily improving. 11-21, 17-21, and the final 20-22 that was lost (or won, depends on whose perspective you're looking at) on a very sketchy call.

Obviously we were disappointed to have come so close and to have them overrule in their own favor, but nothing prepared us for what came next.   While walking off the court, our opponent said to her teammate, (for us to overhear) "I just can't get into games like that. I don't even know why they play, they're so f***ing terrible!""

Our reaction was just what you might expect... we retreated to our corner, seethed, cried, seethed some more, and tried to piece back together our shattered faith in humanity.

"You guys, I feel a little sorry for her. If winning a volleyball game makes her that mad, how sad is the rest of her life?"

"Guys, it really doesn't matter what she said. Just let it go!"

"Seriously, what a sad person..."

"You know, we ought to go say something nice to her."

So ten minutes after the stinging remark was thrown out, three of us jumped up and walked over to where she was sitting with her teammates and friends.   I don't remember the exact words we said, but it was something like, "thanks for the game, you guys played awesomely, yada yada..." What I do remember, the part that is etched into my brain is the way that their jaws dropped. The girl who had vocally berated us sat there speechless, looking at the floor while her friend looked at us like we'd come from another planet.

"Why would you say that? Why would you be nice?" he demanded.

"Because we really had fun playing against a team of your caliber. It challenged and stretched us, and it was fun!"

We turned around and walked out of the gym with a spring in our step.   It took every ounce of self control I had to not turn around and look to see if there really were physical "coals of fire" sizzling on their heads.   It felt good. We realized that in that moment, we were the better team. We were bigger, stronger smarter, and in some ways, older than they were.

Two weeks later we re-matched this top team for the first game of the tournament, and I almost had to double check the roster to make sure it was the same team, that's how changed they were. Their attitudes were transformed. They offered encouragement, advice, and even praise to our fledgling team. I don't know the story of their lives or what cause the difference, but I like to think that when our life story collided with theirs, somehow we left a mark.

Delta Flight #4533

2014-03-06T07:49:00.000-08:00

I hate saying goodbye.

The tranquil sunset out the window in front of me almost matches tranquility of my desktop background, and my iPod ear buds are shutting out the bustle of the airport terminal to my back, but surrounding myself with peaceful scenes and soundtracks is useless when my heart is overwhelmed. I'm leaving this evening. Leaving the comforts of home, the soothing sounds of Dad's guitar, the balmy breeze of our southern California climate. Leaving Mom's gourmet cooking, connections with life-long friends, and late night talks with my sisters. I'm leaving the ocean, my brand new niece, my ailing grandmother, and all of my handsome brothers. Everything in me begs to stay, but obedience to God's direction says I need to leave.

As much as I hate to go, I'm confident that this is where God has me for this season of my life, and I'm cool with that.

Suddenly, sitting in the airport all by myself, I'm not alone anymore. I'm reminded that I won't be traveling alone, and my traveling partner has also gone before and paved the way.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your way's acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths.”

I halfheartedly congratulate myself that I didn't cry when saying goodbye this time, and wonder if leaving will ever get easier. Somehow, I don't think it will, and I'm oddly comforted by the realization. I'm glad that I have a family who loves me. I'm so thankful we're close enough that it hurts to leave.

Trusting in the Lord means surrendering my will, my plans and my desires to His own, and joyfully living out His purpose for my life.

Delta's flight #4533 is now boarding at gate 59 as I pick up my bags ready to follow.

So much to be thankful for!

2014-02-24T07:56:00.000-08:00

After snoozing my alarm just once, I jumped out of bed at 4:something this morning with a little extra spring in my step which was not entirely due to the fact that I had to hustle to get out the door without being late. See, I've been opening the little coffee shop for a lot of mornings in a row, and today is my last opening shift before I have a week off.

This time tomorrow I'll be on a plane, heading home to see my family - laughter seriously clogs my throat like a sob when I think about hugging my sisters at the airport in the balmy (and smoggy) California air.

Thank You, Father, for the inches of snow that fell yesterday, blanketing our town in white - thank You for your blood which washes m,e even whiter than this snow.

Thank You for the contrast between Idaho's snowy Monday and the sunny weather that waits for me tomorrow in California - thank You for your presence which warms my soul, even warmer than that California sunshine.

Thank You for the family and friends You've given me, both here in Idaho and back home in California - and thank You most of all for Your Son, Jesus Christ, the friend who is closer than a brother.

As the sun comes up illuminating the snow this morning, I'm in awe. I'm humbled, indebted, grateful, and so freaking excited to be going home tomorrow!!!

Anxious for nothing

2014-02-19T13:32:00.000-08:00

A pit of dread settled in my stomach as I looked at the first page of my final exam. Anxiety had been swirling through my head the whole weekend, but I'd put off the test long enough, and I was running out of time to get it done. I took a deep breath, and started in, shutting out the sounds and scenes around me. For the next hour, I agonized over the test, hoping that somehow, the answers would come to me.

When the hour was up, I turned it in to the proctor and asked for the second test, knowing that my results would be dicey at best. By the second page of the second test, panic began to set in.

“What was I thinking? I'm not ready for this! I should have reviewed in the parking lot. I'm never gonna finish this! Help!”

It occurred to me that while I had asked my roommate to pray for me as I walked out the door, I hadn't prayed myself. I dropped my pencil then and there, and committed my test to the Lord, asking Him for clarity of mind as I finished the test out.

And then the wait began. Doing proctored tests means that the tests have to be scanned and emailed back to the school who forwards them to the instructor, who grades them at their leisure – and then, finally, after I've chewed my fingernails right off, and worn a hole in the carpet pacing back and forth, my results are posted.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.”

Today, after checking for my scores for the fourth time in four hours, I realized that I had to get my mind on something else. So, today, I'm being thankful for my God who is bigger than test scores, who is powerful and good, and who I can wholeheartedly trust with my future. And I'm dwelling on the gifts that He's given me. Things like:

:: Dad, and his wise counsel
:: Mornings in the Word
:: Those cheerful early morning customers
:: Fellowship with other kids my age who are pursuing Christ
:: The awesome girls I get to work with
:: Radiant heat, cold mornings, hot coffee
:: Going home to see my family in a week.

Forget about the tests, and all of the tomorrows. Today has enough things to think about.

Transformed

2013-07-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

Why is it that the fire of my passion for Christ so easily turns into a smoldering coal? I get all fueled up after an awesome message, after seeing Him working so evidently in my life, after reading a powerful blog post on one of the blogs I follow, or after being completely challenged and blessed by the examples of godly believers around me. The fuel ignites a flame and my bed of coals burns brightly for an hour or a day, sometimes as long as a week....And then, before I know it, my fire dies down and my light grows dim.

I was pondering all of this while working at the little coffee shop this week, and realized that my fire burns out because I forget so quickly the great things He has done. I was going over in my head what the Lord had done for me, what I owe Him in return, and I began to write it out. (On the back of a pay envelope, because that's what was handy.)

I started to write, from my perspective, the step by step changes in my life that occurred since I fully turned my life over to Him, and before I knew it, my pen couldn't keep up with my mind.

Rescued: From my destructive, self-serving, arrogant self.

Redeemed: I've been bought with a price

Cleansed: From the filthy rags I considered to be my righteousness.

Set free: From my slavery to sin.

Renamed: "Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called the sons of God."

Valued: God saw a worth in me that caused Him to pay the ultimate price for my freedom.

Loved: With a love that is larger than life.

Grateful: To a new Master who bought me to set me free. I'm more than grateful - I'm...

Indebted: To say, "Thank you" is inadequate, and it would be impossible to repay the debt I owe.

Bond slave: Because it's my desire to take the life He bought back, and give it over to Him.

I wrote until the envelope would hold no more, and stood back in complete awe. The Lord worked a complete transformation in my heart and life, and all I need to do to be reminded is to look in the mirror. Oh, and the flame? It's been ignited today.

Meet Doug(ie)

2013-04-17T15:33:00.000-07:00

Doug is in his fifties, has a voice that rasps from too many cigarettes and prison ink all over his arms. He comes through the drive thru a couple times a day with a huge smile on his face and an encouraging word for whoever it is that makes his iced white mocha with whipped cream and caramel sauce drizzled on top. I first met him two years ago when he came through the shop and handed me a cup from a different coffee stand, apologizing for being a disloyal customer and assuring me that our coffee tastes better.

"I was on the other end of town for a Bible study so I stopped there. The only thing that I liked is that they wrote my name on the cup. See?" He pointed to the scrawled "Dougie" in sharpie marker.

I dug a sharpie out of the drawer under the cash register and wrote "Dougie" on his mocha and added a smiley face.

I've worked in the coffee shop for days or weeks at a time, with months and years in between. The faces and drinks of the regulars have come and gone, but Doug's remains the same.

This afternoon he breezed into the sit-down bakery and coffee shop. "What's the Word for today, sunshine?" he asked me. (Lately we've been sharing back and forth what we'd been reading and learning and meditating on. This ongoing discussion started when we were chatting about the guys he was meeting at the shop to mentor for the alcohol and prison recovery program he's working with.)

His question gave me a pause, because I speak Christian-ese well enough that I can always answer a question of that nature, but for some reason I couldn't put on a face for this man.

"Well truthfully Doug, I had a crazy morning, and never cracked open my Bible at all."

I cringed as those words came out of my mouth. Mentally I berated myself. "Come on, Merrie! You've memorized enough verses. You've stored up a stockpile of insights and analogies. You can give him a better answer than that!"

The truth hurts to admit, (probably because I care so much about the image and the reputation I've built for myself.) but Doug didn't blink an eye like I would've. Didn't sniff or look down his nose like I've done. Didn't preach at or reject me. He just loved me like Jesus loves me. Accepted me, with my faults and imperfections.

Right now I'm humbled. Right now I'm thinking that I haven't been such a big-hearted person as I thought I was. Right now I'm realizing that a recovered addict/ex-convict is living more like Jesus than I, a born-and-raised-in-the-church Christian. This morning I thought I was a pretty big deal, but right now I'm thinking it might be better to be "one of the least of these."

"But the Lord directs his steps"

2013-04-11T22:58:00.001-07:00

-Wash red comforter, clean guest room
-Put dishes into dishwasher
-Grocery shopping
-Start chicken in crockpot
-Send in Enrollment Agreement
-Run
-Core workout
-Work at noon

I got home late last night after closing the bakery, and walked right into the Wednesday night Bible Study that meets in my sister's living room.

They'd been studying the book of James from start to finish and were in the middle of chapter 4, where James rebukes the saints for their boastful planning.

The practical application was somewhere along the lines of "So, when our day doesn't pan out as we planned, how can we acknowledge God's control over our lives?"

Ideas and suggestions were tossed back and forth, but the one that I loved the most was that we ought to adopt a spirit of gratitude. Offering thanksgiving in all things is in a sense acknowledging that all things were purposefully orchestrated just for me.

After I went to bed I wrote up the above list of things I needed to remember to get done in the morning. When I got back to the list tonight, I had to laugh. My day, as awesome as it turned out, was NOTHING like I planned.

I'm thankful for every part of it - and amazed at the timing of the truths that were shared last night.

"A man's heart devises his way; but the Lord directs his steps."

As it turns out, besides the core workout, I ended up essentially doing everything from the original list, in one way or another - but not in any way that resembled my plan for the day.

FIguring things out

2013-03-20T12:35:00.001-07:00

We talk about getting our lives together and figuring out what we're supposed to be doing. We talk about making a plan, and we make plans to make a plan for our lives, but then we always smirk when someone else says that they're trying to get life figured out and let them know to "Let me know how that works for you."

It may be a repeated theme for me on here, but the way our society puts so much stock into plans and position has weighed on my heart lately and was still in the back of my mind when we got to church on Sunday. We were late, (which isn't too unusual as Sunday is the only day of the week that we're not up hours before dawn up here) so we slipped into the back row while the service started.

The special music stirred something in my soul and I've been mulling over it ever since. An elderly man, well past seventy, got up and introduced a song he had heard for the first time as a teenager before he started singing. The look on his face and the passion in his voice told me that he believed every single word.

I would love to tell you what I think of Jesus,
Since I've found in Him a friend so strong and true.
I would tell you how He changed my life completely,
He did something that no other friend could do.

No one ever cared for me like Jesus!
There's no other friend so kind as He!
No one else could take the sin and darkness from me,
Oh, how much He cares for me!

All my life was full of sin when Jesus found me,
All my heart was full of misery and woe;
Jesus placed His strong and loving arms about me,
And He led me in the way I ought to go.

To hear these words from a man who is at the end of this crazy journey we call life really made me think twice. Perhaps figuring out life isn't as important as we seem to think. Perhaps the important thing is to love Jesus. Perhaps all that's left for me to do is to love and trust Him and let Him take care of the details.

Accepted? You bet!

2013-03-04T12:58:00.001-08:00

I have an interview scheduled this week, after which I'll find out whether or not I will be accepted into the Midwifery College I'm really hoping to get into.

Boy-oh-boy, you wouldn't believe the insecurities that are cropping up all over in my life, hinging on that silly word, "accepted".

What if I'm not smart enough, or my home-school education is inadequate? What if I'm not the right type of person to be a midwife, or what if they just plain ole' don't like me?

Our culture puts so much stock into accomplishments, status and "What are you doing with your life?" that it's not enough to be joyfully serving the Lord by folding laundry and cleaning bathrooms for your family anymore - and I've put a lot of stock into this Midwifery School thing, thinking that while it seems to be God's direction for my life, it'll also be an acceptable life path and I'll have a really good answer for the "what are you doing with your life?" question that always comes up.

Insecurity is like an infectious disease, spreading from it's source to every other accessible area of my life. I was laying in my bed last night with thoughts and fears tumbling and swirling around in my head, keeping sleep far from me. I had just nailed down my need to be accepted as the root of my problem when it finally occurred to me that by problem was a non-problem, because I am already accepted.

"May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God."

Romans 15 hit it spot on. No matter what happens, I've already been accepted, (through no feat or failure of my own) and I can rest in that. Literally and figuratively.

When I drop the ball...

2013-02-27T08:24:00.001-08:00

When I was approached and asked to write a devotional last week I agreed without hardly thinking about it. I had no other choice. I believe that God is calling me to testify to His goodness through my relationship with Him - so I said yes- but inwardly I was cringing. See, that morning was the first time in weeks that I had opened my bible to read it for myself.

My spiritual life had been in a slump and my old enemies, Laziness and Complacency had crept in and taken over. I was just flat-lining. No mountains or valleys, just deadness.

And what Christian wants to admit to that? Not this one.

Feeling defeated and ashamed for being such a failure as a christian I flipped open my Bible that morning. It was the Lord who directed me to Psalm 25

"In You, Lord my God, I put my trust.
I trust in You. Do not let me be put to shame,
nor let my enemies triumph over me.
No one who hopes in you will ever be put to shame."

The Psalm went on and on, reassuring me, encouraging me, speaking to my soul, meeting me exactly where I was at.

I can't testify to a relationship with Christ when I haven't actually been in fellowship with Him. That would be like me telling the world that I'm super close with the girl I grew up across the street from whom I haven't talked to in ten years.

But I can still testify to this - I serve a God who is faithful when I'm not, who makes me His priority when I've shelved my Bible and then, when I come crawling back to the throne of grace, and who meets me where I'm at and carries me home.

Deep thinking and bathroom cleaning

2013-02-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

Maybe in another life I would have been a philosopher. I would have become famous just by dressing up, sitting around thinking up profound thoughts and writing them down in a cryptic way so that years later when my discoveries were discovered students of life would spend half their studies figuring out what I was saying and the other half understanding it.

But I'm not a philosopher. I'm just a 20-something year old girl charging headlong down this path called life and every now and then I think of something profound.

Like today, for instance. I was cleaning bathrooms, ipod plugged into my ears while texting a friend. As I sprayed and swept and scrubbed I was trying to figure out why it's so hard for me to get life figured out.

Family dynamics are hard for anyone. They're hard when you're six years old, and trying to learn all those important things to learn for six-year-olds, like reading and people skills and why you can't wear prints and plaids together. It's hard to know where you belong when you're six.

And then it's hard when you're sixteen and trying to learn all those oh-so-important things for sixteen-year-olds. Like reading people and how to wear exactly the right thing, among many other things. It's hard to know where you belong when you're sixteen.

I'm betting that life is hard when you're twenty-six too. I'd bet that you have lots to learn, although it may be different things than when you were six. I'd bet that sometimes when you're twenty-six it's hard to know just where you belong.

It seems like just when I get something figured out, God goes and changes the circumstances giving me a brand new set of dynamics to learn.

Why is it that the toughest dynamics to work with last the longest? And as soon as I figure them out, things change? I pondered as I finished scrubbing the toilet in one bathroom and moved to the next one.

It dawned on me that perhaps the purpose of the tough things in life are to teach me a lesson, and just like I wouldn't stay scrubbing a clean toilet, neither would God continue to give me the same test. As soon as I've finished with one toilet, it's time to move on.

Significant Stuff

2013-01-23T17:53:00.003-08:00

There's nothing like being in the middle of the ocean to make a girl feel insignificant. I paddled out in waves that were way too big for me today on a ten foot long board because I couldn't be outdone by my younger sister and brother who were all gung-ho and excited about the monstrous* surf.

The final score for waves that I caught was zero, while the score for waves that got me was in the teens.

I swallowed a lot of pride and salt water before I finally made it outside past the break and found a deep hole to sit over, leaving me in no danger of being able to catch a wave.

I could see the sandy bottom far below me and forced myself to identify the moving shadows as kelp plants and a bat ray. The sun was breaking through the clouds and the water temperature was just slightly lower than the air.

Twenty minutes later I had caught my breath and was calculating how long I would have to stay out before the tide dropped and the waves got smaller, and if my toes would fall off due to hypothermia before then.

Stupid pride. Stupid need to gain approval. Stupid Merrie. I realized early on that I needed to rethink my decision making paradigm.

My dad was sitting inside hoping to coach me into some waves, and I could see him beckoning me in closer to him. I ventured inside once only to paddle frantically back to my safe spot the second I saw a set forming on the horizon.

He eventually followed me out there to reassure me.

"You know, your Mom hates to surf, and I still love her."

"I don't exactly hate to surf. I love the idea of surfing! I hate that I'm horrible at it! I'm pretty much stuck here, because I'm too scared to go back through the big waves that are between me and the shore!"

He assured me that he wasn't worried about me in the least so therefore I should have nothing to worry about and finished by telling me, "Even if you never learn to surf, I'll still love you."

Eventually I did make it in through the waves, (Obviously, because they don't have wi-fi in the lineup yet) and Dad came in with me, making sure I survived.

He walked me back up the beach before paddling out again to surf for another hour, and I sat on the beach, waterlogged and humbled.

There's nothing like being in the middle of the ocean to make a girl feel insignificant, but then, there's nothing like knowing that my significance has no bearing on how much I'm loved.

*Monstrous: 3-4 foot with occasional overhead peaks.

Un-scheduled

2013-01-11T08:27:00.001-08:00

Staying up until nearly two in the morning discussing life and love and all those pertinent topics with my sisters when I needed to be up at five-thirty to get to a class on time was totally worth it.

In fact, I slept 'til six, zipped through unusually light traffic and am sitting in the truck relishing coffee and a bagel, writing on my blog, because I have time.

I was actually headed to bed at a decent time and was about to ask the crowd in the kitchen to quiet down, because I had such an early morning ahead, when I realized that these relationships wouldn't wait, and the time to be a part of their lives was now.

So here I am, sufficiently rested, (or caffeinated), on time, humbled and re-writing my priorities... Sure there's a time for sleep, but sometimes other things can't wait.

I've noticed a pattern lately.

Jesus and
Others then
You spells JOY.

I may have plagiarized that saying from an old Sunday School lesson, but it still rings true in my life.

"...For the joy of the Lord is your strength" Nem 8:10

Rethinking Resolutions.

2013-01-07T08:07:00.003-08:00

"Be kind"

"No more energy drinks"

"I'm making a resolution to not make resolutions"

"Run a 26 minute 5k."

"Write on my blog twice a month."

"Become confident taking jumps on my snowboard."

We stood around the island in the kitchen last night discussing our resolutions for 2013 and wondering how long they each would last. The resolution I had to cut out sugar for the first three months of 2013 has already gone kaput and I'm behind on the resolution to get a collective 2,555 hours of sleep. (averaging 7 hours per night)

Resolutions. What is the point?

I sat at the island again this morning watching the morning sun wake up and start it's day. I read in Isaiah where it cautions those who try to see ahead and know God's plans, saying, "Let God hurry; let Him hasten his work so we may see it. The plan of the Holy One of Israel - let it approach, let it come into view, so we may know it." And I started to wonder about the wisdom of making plans and goals.

And I weighed the other verses in scripture that came to mind, including James chapter four which says, "Now listen, you who say, 'tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money. Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? It is even a vapor which appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say," If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that. As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil."

But the arguments for the other side popped up as well. "Where there is no vision, the people perish," and "A man's heart devises his way but the Lord directs his steps."

I realized this morning that I had been going about my resolutions all wrong. In resolving to achieve certain results this coming year I'd made them prideful boasting, never saying, "If it's the Lord's will for me, I'll do ___________ in 2013," but often spouting, "Look how disciplined and spiritually mature I will be in 2013."

I think the whole, "Duty is ours, results are God's" theory comes into play here.

I think I'd better re-think my strategy towards resolutions.

I think I've missed the point. The boasting comes in not when the plans are made but when I decide which results are going to happen.

So I asked my littlest sister what her resolution was when she came in this morning only to find out that she's light years ahead of me in the wisdom and maturity thing when she told me her resolve was to, "Do at least one cartwheel everyday."

What God looks like to me.

2012-12-31T11:03:00.001-08:00

I bedded down by the wood stove last night, cozy in my sleeping bag while the temperatures dropped to the single digits.

Spending New Years with my sister-in-law's family in Central Oregon has been a great adventure so far. Spontaneous and testing the limits of my flexibility, but fun and adventurous at the same time.

I woke up to my brother coming in, stoking the fire and putting his infant daughter back to sleep in front of the stove.

I stirred in my cocoon and we visited as he watched his baby sleep - checking to make sure she was warm enough, admiring her, comforting her if she squirmed - and again I was reminded of God as a father.

"He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep... The Lord will keep you from harm - He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore."

Things that matter this morning

2012-12-18T09:08:00.000-08:00

I crept into the quiet dining room this morning, presumably to burn through some pages in the book I'm supposed to finish before I start a class I've signed up for, but my keyboard was calling to me like an old friend.

By the time I had fixed myself a cup of tea, contemplated whether all of the water outside was "raining," "falling" or just "drizzling," and had booted up my computer, the book was far out of my mind.

I've missed taking the time to search out what's on my heart and put it into words. You know, I think it's healthy for me, in a way, to dredge down to the bottom, to sit in solitude with only my thoughts and the clicking of the keys, to open up the doors of my mind and explore the ideas and insights that I don't normally have the time or energy to pursue. To know what's going on in my heart.

I keep telling myself that I'm way too busy most of the time. Too busy to pursue my relationship with Christ. Too busy to invest in my little sisters who are growing up so fast. Too busy to sit and listen to my dad when he's exploring new ideas and insights. Too busy to chat on the phone with a friend and catch up on what God's been doing in her life.

I did a mental review to see just what it was that I've been to busy with, and my automatic defensive answer was that I've been too busy with....life.

This morning I gave that answer some objective thought only to realize that these very things I've been too busy for - they are LIFE. These are the most vital aspects of life, these relationships; with my Savior, with my sisters, my brothers, with my dad and mom, with my sweet friends - these are the pulse and purpose of my life here.

The shower just shut off indicating that my quiet time is up. The studying will have to happen later, maybe with headphones on. Right now I have a life to live.

Edit: Learning new things is life too, and should not be discounted. I think the idea here is for me to find a balance between the two; not shutting out the people so that I can learn more about... people, and not shutting out the investment into the future so that I can invest more in the present. =)

Of quiet reflections in a bustling household

2012-12-02T12:37:00.001-08:00

The bustle of breakfast greeted my ears when I stepped into the kitchen this morning. I'd been looking forward to some quiet reflective moments over a cup of coffee from the time I first opened my eyes, so the fourteen plus people gathered around engaging in fourteen plus conversations took half a minute to get used to.

As always, the conversations were too intriguing for me to tune out completely, and before I was totally swept away, I found myself thanking the Lord for giving me what I didn't even realize I needed.

His gifts to me are so far above and beyond what I think I need or want, but they're the perfect fit for me every time.

I'm so grateful for a Father who knows me better than I know myself; who gives me exactly what I need before I ask.

For the sister who cooked breakfast for me.

For Dad, who offered to put eye drops on my irritated eye, because I was too chicken to do it myself.

For my little sister who makes a great pot of coffee.

For my not-so-little-anymore brother who sets an awesome example for me in his attitude towards life, in the way he lets grievances roll off his back.

For my nieces and nephew, and the smiles they constantly bring to all of our faces.

And I'm going to have to start getting up earlier than I have been lately if I'm going to have that quiet cup of coffee.

Home sweet home

2012-11-26T12:15:00.001-08:00

Ah, where can I start? I've been on sensory overload for the last week. It's hard to believe that it's only been a week since we packed up the little Jetta, piled in and headed out on the extended road trip that brought us home in time for Thanksgiving.

Home to little sisters, running out to greet us with bear hugs.
Home to lights shining cheerfully, beckoning us in.
Home to a delicious dinner that had been saved for us travelers.
Home to Dad and Mom and all thirteen of my siblings, my siblings' spouses and their kids.

Laughs and hugs all around, stories from the road, pictures to be shared, memories to be recounted. Peace and warmth and love and then a whole slew of work to be done in preparation for the forty-two guests at the Thanksgiving table.

Ironing table cloths and folding napkins became a game. Mountains of dishes a challenge. Music and harmonies seeping out every corner of the house, sometimes even the same song at the same time in the same key!

Windows were washed, food prepared and consumed, floors swept and vacuumed and swept again.

And then came the phone call, announcing that our sister-in-love was in labor.

Thanksgiving for family, and all that the word means.
Thanksgiving for the opportunity to be witness to the miracle of my newest niece's birth.
Thanksgiving for Jesus, loving me in spite of myself.
Thanksgiving for the awe and wonder of life here on this earth. And I'm told that Heaven is even better than this!

"I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet simple things of life which are the real ones after all." Laura Ingalls Wilder

I'm beginning to learn that she is right.

Time

2012-11-04T08:22:00.001-08:00

It's daylight savings day, so naturally time is the subject on my mind.

The clock in the kitchen is ticking away, marching on in a steady rhythm. The house is quiet, and I'm settled in next to the faux fireplace with a cup of coffee and my bible and journal. I realized just then how I've missed this.

I start writing in my journal, taking in the beauty of the quiet morning, grateful to be experiencing it.

#down comforters
#wood stoves
#rainy days
#morning quiet

"How long has it been?". The question crossed my consciousness like a whisper. "How long since you've risen before you absolutely had to on purpose?"

#soft promptings to get me out of bed
#open conversations with the other baristas at the coffee shop.

Being thankful for the conversation about valuing quiet time that I had yesterday reminded me of the conversation I had earlier in the week with another girl who doesn't believe; mostly because all of the Christians she knows are total hypocrites.

For some reason, I couldn't get that conversation out of my head. I kept playing it back, wondering if I said enough or too much, praying that she would see Jesus in my life.

I claim to be a person who seeks and follows Christ, who has a personal relationship with Him; but truthfully, that relationship has not been my priority. Entertaining myself, keeping busy and getting "enough" sleep have been on the top of my list.

"Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

This quiet whisper was really starting to interrupt my solitude, so I thought I'd better give some thought to figure out what it was all about.

My time is the single most valuable thing that I possess . (And who really possesses time anyways? That's like possessing air or steam or the wind)

But, above material things, above my bank account or my favorite jeans, I value my time. And I'm finished with investing it into me. Lord knows I don't need any help turning my heart in that direction any more. I love myself so much there's almost no room for anyone else.

My relationship with Jesus and His most precious creations. That's what I want to treasure. That's where I want to invest my time.

#the extra hour we got today to spend on my newest pursuit, instead of sleeping it away.

Awestruck

2012-10-30T14:01:00.001-07:00

I was driving to my sister's house and took a turn off on a whim. The road winded in front of me through the forest, through the fog and rain. I'm sure it wasn't the best day to go exploring, but I had time and a full tank of gas.

When I parked my car beside a lake, the rain had let up. Silence reigned supreme. The normal rustling and chirping noises of the forest were stilled. The sound of my car door echoed off the trees, breaking the silence for a moment before being swallowed up in the fog that shrouded the lake.

I'll tell you, in those minutes I spent outside of the car, I felt incredibly small.

"Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth."

The forest was towering and impenetrable by light, the lake seemed endless as it faded away in the gloom.

"He's so great

And I'm so small

Jesus holds me

Lest I fall

He's the ruler

Over all

He's so great

And I'm so small."

Feeling awed and slightly intimidated by the greatness and power of God, I got back in the car and headed back down to the highway.

It reminded me a little bit of when Moses was begging to see God's glory and God said, "I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, 'Yah' in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But," God said, "You cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live."

Then, God, knowing the fullness of His glory was too much for Moses, chose instead to protect Moses while giving him a small glimpse of Himself.

Truly, the heavens are declaring the Lord's glory. All of creation testifies His power.

1.) He's So Great - Written by Ron Hamilton 2.) Exodus 33:10 - Probably written by Moses