my little corner...

saying goodbye to my little corner...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Thu, 27 Jun 2013 00:01:00 -0700

if i were going to number posts, this would be post 750.

and it is going to be the very last one.

i'm surprisingly emotional about it - i've known this was going to the be last one for number of weeks, but really...

i'm not that surprised.

this space has been my haven for just over 7 years.

this space has documented each move, each baby, each birthday...

so much of my life is written down in this space.

i'm not good at goodbyes.

which is why the writing here has slowed down...

when i first sat down to "blog", i had to come up with a name for it and having fallen in love with the music of rodger and hammerstein's cinderella i picked from my favorite song, my own little corner.

there's a line, near the middle, that resonated with me - a homebody by nature,

a woman marked deeply by fear.

the words are these:

Just as long as I stay in my own little corner

All alone, in my own, little chair.

live quietly,

blog quietly,

don't rock the boat,

live stiffled.

live frustrated.

live closed.

but Jesus, He didn't live and die and rise again for me to stay hidden away in some corner where i could live out a faith small and weak.

He didn't say, go in to all your little corners and sit there until i come back - and lo, I am with you always while you stay hidden and safe.

no. He boldly calls us to go out -

go. out. into all the world.

and He would be with us in the middle of our leaving our comfort zones and He would be with us in the going...

so. this is my last post in the space, because i can't sit quietly in a little corner anymore...

i am going to be over here, in the midst of the going...

maybe you'd like to come over and join me?

dear elias...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 25 Jun 2013 15:12:00 -0700

it started with a phone call yesterday morning.

you were humming quietly while the voice on the other end sounded measured and calm.

too calm.

she told me of a family member who had passed away. a family member who i had last talked with when you were small and fit so neatly in the crook of my arm...

we hung up and i sat there quietly, looking at you rubbing that lemon half on the top of your head...

i don't know what your life will hold.

and it's your birthday and i want to remember those first moments,

those exhausted moments,

the ones that blurred my vision and filled my heart up so full.

but elias,

you have to know,

there. is. more.

our life here is nothing more than a wisp of a moment.

and you are four and your only thought right now is probably one that involves cars and trucks and how to add to your growing collection,

but sweet son, it will all go so fast.

and as it whirls by, it will be easy to forget how quickly it spins. you could miss that life really is more than getting that one more thing.

it's taken me almost 34 years to know that, and still, i sit here with my almost-birthday latte on the table top beside me...

i am the first to admit i don't live this out perfectly.

i don't know how many years that God has planned out for you,

i don't know what paths your feet will find to follow,

where He will come near to meet you and reveal Himself as sure.

but the years that you have?

live them for Him.

if you are going to spend yourself on anything,

spend them on Him.

if you are going to fall down exhausted at the end of the day,

fall down because you have poured out everything to love Him.

your soul will keep on living after your body has turned to dust,

but while you are here,

while your blood is pumping and your heart is beating and your lungs fill up with air,

let the very dust that holds you together hold together a life that has eternity and Christ Jesus in focus.

i think of my grandma today on your birthday, i think of this woman who will be burying her second son in more than a decade...

i don't know, elias, which one of us will see the face of Jesus first.

i sat in front of your baby sister this morning as i spooned food into her mouth.

her eyes were so trusting and i began to think of her in her later years - how i won't be here to hold her close and whisper how loved she is...and i began to pray.

i began to pray for the hands that will soothe her, comfort her in the moments before she is no more,

and elias, i'm not trying to be morbid.

i'm not trying to focus sad on what should be a joy-filled day...

but i want more for you than a life that is only focused on now.

your soul will only grow shriveled and selfish and voracious for a never ending supply of what is never going to satisfy.

only Jesus will.

today, you are four.

four.

i still remember your sweet scowly face all crumpled and gasping for air in those first moments of your life.

i still remember that first moment you whispered you loved me back.

moments that are forever embedded into my heart.

i am so thankful that you are my son.

you have a heart that already knows who Jesus is,

and the prayer we pray over you every day is that your heart would become one that desires Him only.

becoming a man after the heart of God, sweet son, is nothing to laugh at, but something to respect deeply.

and when that moment of decision comes, pursue Him...

we'll be cheering you on all the way.

i love you, more than words can ever say...

~ your mama

changes...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 12:11:00 -0700

are happening.

here and at home

and in us...

can't wait to share what they are...

when you find that you just might be free indeed...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 22:07:00 -0700

it happens at a stop light.

i'm frazzled and they are all frazzled and to calm my nerves i try and say back those words from romans that are, for whatever reason refusing to become embedded in my memory.

it's as i'm whispering those words,

they have no understanding, no fidelty, no love, no mercy...

i sit with my hands on the wheel and i'm nodding because it's me,

i've lacked all four today.

and the weight is heavy.

that's when i looked up past the speedometer and the road to the van in front of me.

i looked up just as i got to romans chapter 8 verse 1 and there in the top left hand corner, just below the rear window was a small metal ichthys wrapped around His Name and He met me on the corner opposite that mcdonald's as i whispered out,

therefore, there is now no condemnation for those

who are in Christ Jesus...

and there is a man on that corner most days, his sign says he's hungry and isn't there just someone who could spare a dollar?

i drive by most days without ever making eye contact...

i avert my gaze because sometimes it's just easier not to see.

and i wonder, how often do we do that with each other?

how often do we walk the hallways of our churches and don't really see?

flash a quick smile,

shake hands and spit out a hello while barely making eye contact before we move on.

how often do we hear a sermon about reaching out to the poor and lost among us and smile and nod and assume someone else will do that job while we remain quiet and comfortable where we are?

we do we run from the hurting brother or sister instead of surrounding them and carrying them to Jesus?

we carry our hand santizers in pockets and purses and it's seeping into the way we deal with one another - and your mess is too messy for my life and so i just won't meet your gaze,

i just won't look,

i'll focus on how fast i'm going or the road i'm on...

but i wonder, when we look,

really look at the person who is stopped still in front of us,

stopped in the middle of a mess or broken heart or the deep pain of their broken humanity,

will we really see the mark of Christ on their life?

will reaching out past our fear and our aversions to the messy

be met instead with an encounter with Jesus,

and find that incredibly, in Him alone, we have been set free...

because she is still seven...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Mon, 10 Jun 2013 00:36:00 -0700

she stands so close to me,

our forearms touching.

her hands are absentmindedly playing with her dress.

and she asks if she can sit on my lap.

she's seven and when did she become so tall?

when did she grow to the point that she no longer folds herself into me?

it's all moving so fast.

too fast.

and she laughs at me when i whisper it,

when i ask her to stop growing.

when i ask her to make time stop,

or at least put an encyclopedia on top of her head.

her gap-tooth smile stretches wide across her face,

her freckles, all sprinkled, stand out against her fair skin -

and i want to cup these moments

and find a way to dam up the spilling of seconds that just keep ticking by.

but instead, she's one more day closer to eight,

one more day lived and passed through

and i'm not going to get those moments back.

i want those moments back,

if just to live them out better.

if just to remember to kiss the tip of her nose one. more. time.

tomorrow, i want to laugh with her more,

to read just one more chapter,

to pull her onto my lap,

before she doesn't fit anymore...

the long road home...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Sat, 8 Jun 2013 01:01:00 -0700

eugene and wilma moved out this past week.

they unloaded their house and hitched up their 5th wheel and sold their home to a young family whose u-haul is parked right outside their front door tonight.

we've got ourselves some brand new neighbours.

some of my walls still stand bare - we moved into these four walls 372 days ago and there are spaces that still baffle me.

it will come...

maybe.

and maybe home is close to my heart tonight because i don't necessarily know what the plan is anymore.

i think of all the times when i've demanded my own way of God. fighting Him at every turn - thinking that four walls meant stability and putting down roots meant being comfortable and safe and when i glance back at the road behind me, i can see the claw marks in the ground - the places marked with a desperation for control.

and they were bloody.

and they are still raw.

but if the scars have taught me anything, they've taught me to trust in a kind and tender Saviour.

what happens when the road to home doesn't lead to comfort and safety and tidy and clean? what happens if the road to home leads you deeper and darker into what pushes against everything that make sense?

we live on a quiet street with quiet neighbours and crickets that sing in the flowerbeds below our bedroom window. until this past week, our 4 were the only children on this road and the occasional grandchild who comes to spend the weekend at a grandparents house...

but then he takes that job on the street formally known as "the hole". where drugs and gangs and violence and drive-bys are the norm.

the year before? there was an opportunity to go down there, before tony ever took the position he has now, for a harvest party in "that" part of town and i shook my head - there was no way. no way i was taking my children into an area that unsafe.

i don't know what happened...when that shift occurred. when i no longer felt scared. we go down almost everyday and most days down there are just like our days here in the middle.

there's a sign at one of the main intersections in town that splits *that side* from *this side* and each time i drive by it i feel torn...

it's a sign that is supposed to make you think, but what it does is make me sad -

which road are you going on? it asks:

the road to heaven - which apparently follows the road leading back towards mansions and comfort and the safe part of town,

or -

and i always look at those words as i reach for the blinker that signals which direction i'm turning:

or are you on the road to hell?

well then,

i guess i'm on the road that leads to hell everyday.

and instead of wanting to escape back here at the end of a long day, i find myself longing to be down there. down in the hellish nightmare of a world i still don't completely understand. and both of us? we agree - it's where we are feeling led, but the timing? it seems so slow but our hearts are burning and if we are saying to Him that our lives are His...that where He leads is where we will go, then we wait with open hands until He clears the way.

and so my walls remain bare.

but the restlessness - it rubs my soul raw and i look around at closets that need to be sorted and baby clothes that need to be switched out...baseboards that should be dusted and light switches that should be wiped down and i get overwhelmed with the everyday...

and after a long week of doing i begin to feel overwhelmed with the list that shouts out the needing to be done.

saturdays have turned into a chaotic heart scramble and the day off we have as a family finds me twisted up in a knot taut and ready to snap.

before we left for the green of vacation last month i began to pray about our saturdays - about the heart messes that find their way into a schedule already heavy with the housework that needs to get done and as we drove further away and closer to rest it's what i kept sensing...

sundays are a day for sabbath - a ceasing of work and allowing our bodies to rest;

but could saturdays become a day for sanctuary? a space hollowed out to become hallowed - as i clean the nooks and crannies around me, could my spirit find a place to breathe in His Peace? could the day before the day of rest be redeemed and made holy too?

i'm tired of the striving.

to be honest, my soul is weary...His call to find solace and rest in Him? i wonder if i can really settle down long enough to see if it's possible - but i'm willing to try.

this saturday will find me bent over in a simple, most basic step...

i'll be lighting a candle - one in each room. a reminder that He is the True Light - the One Who shines brightly in the darkness that surrounds..

.the One Who is really and always my True Home...

when i don't just want to sit there...chapter 5 {the grace series}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Wed, 5 Jun 2013 23:54:00 -0700

it is not the nature of what you do that determines the

spirituality of any action, but the Origin of what you do.

~ major ian thomas

ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you,

i don't think fast on my feet.

it always comes to me later in the quiet moments, when i've had time to process it all and sort through all the details - that's when i know what should have been said.

or, there are the rare moments that i say what i am feeling in that split second of time and i regret it for days following the incident...

there doesn't seem to be an easy middle.

i'm like that martha - all twisted up because so much needs to be done, but i don't know how to do it all...what starts out as joy-filled quickly becomes burdensome and suddenly, i'm more focused on what i lack than on Who Gives.

with that, i reveal what i truly believe about God and

service and my own role in His story. i see myself as

irreplaceable when i think that the work won't get done

unless i do it. instead of looking to Him to provide what is

needed, martha rolled up her sleeves and took on respon-

sibility for things that may never have been meant for her.

grace for the good girl (pg. 63)

tony - his ministry involves many different facets and he seems to effortlessly move between talking with potential donors and sitting side by side with a child who is cutting and suicidal. i respect my husband for many reasons, but it's this ability to connect with people at a soul level is one of them.

i'm the one who feels as though i'm floundering in these situations.

i found myself there today -

found myself in that position where i'm sitting there listening to gut-wrenching pain. pain that i have felt - pain that i understand...hatred that i have wrestled with and through and her face is covered with tears and i begin to feel helpless because i should have the words...

if i've walked this path, then i should know what to say.

so i silently called out to Him,

Jesus, words! i need words! i need to know what to say!

nothing.

silence.

and her words kept coming and she kept trying to wipe those tears away and i kept sitting fidgeting inwardly there, trying not to become panicked when i slowly began to sense His answer...

just listen.

don't talk.

just be.

i didn't want to just sit and be and listen - i wanted to have the answers and the solutions and not feel so helpless...

but that wouldn't have been about Jesus - it would have been about me.

i don't believe martha simply chose cooking or housework over the Lord.

when she begged the Lord to make mary help her, what she was really saying

was "notice me Lord!" she wanted Him to see her. she longed for acknowledgment

and love, and was willing to do anything to get it...it isn't that she wanted to be

working. it's that she thought she had to....

(gftgg pg. 64)

and it's when i think all those *i have to's* that i begin to become resentful - begin to question what He is doing.

it's when i begin to think that maybe, just maybe, i know better than Him.

pride is such an ugly thing and trust flies out the window.

what would happen if we just let go - let go of all the trying and doing and just simply was before Him?

i may never be as eloquent as my husband - i'm pretty sure i won't have the answers for children who live through hell...

i may spend the majority of my days changing diapers and making cheese quesidillas for lunch and simmering spaghetti sauce for the one millionth time for dinner this month. the laundry will be never ending, the dust will keep piling and i will sit at the end of the day wondering what difference i am making in anyone's life, let alone the very Kingdom of God -

but then He speaks my name - He speaks to the martha deep inside who so desperately wants to get it all right...

it's not about getting all the work done for Him on my own:

if what i do is done in complete dependence upon the

Father, then it doesn't matter what that thing is, rather who

the one is doing that thing. is it me? or is it Him? Colossians

says that by faith, it is beautifully and mysteriously both.

"to this end i labor, struggling with all His energy, which so

powerfully works in me" (col. 1:29 NIV). who am i to decide

what is extraordinary? the Father has already decided. He

says He Himself is extraordinary. so anything i do as i depend

on and partner with the Extraordinary One, i suppose that is

extraordinary too.

(gftgg pg. 61)

it's all about trusting that He can take the little I have and turn it into something that will bless Himself. it has nothing to do with the doing, but everything to do with the trusting.

and this is grace - that He takes what feels like nothing and turns it into a faith that is active and strong.

when prayer changes...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Mon, 3 Jun 2013 23:47:00 -0700

it was over the noise and chaos of dinner the other night that i heard her familiar question asked around an unfamiliar table.

words were flying all over the place so i'm surprised i heard it,

but not really surprised she asked it...

if that makes sense.

our olivia?

she's bold.

her emotions, her voice, her actions, her frustrations, and even her sleep - it's all done loudly.

all of it.

i don't know how many times i have to remind her that she doesn't have to shout in my face - my ears work just fine.

or they did...

either way, if she feels strongly about something, it's done with strong emotion.

her love for Jesus?

strong.

and she has no idea how there is anyone out there beyond our four walls who doesn't love Jesus...

so she has made it her personal mission to find out just who those people are.

and why.

she could care less if it makes you uncomfortable, she wants to know the state of your heart because a heart without Jesus just doesn't make sense to an olivia that loves Him so.

so, when i heard her turn to her newest friend over hot dogs and hamburgers and ask the inevitable question, i smiled.

because when his little face beamed back at her that yes, he did know Jesus, her shoulders relaxed and her summer-bare feet kicked and she shouted right back in his face that she did too.

and her quest to know was stilled for another day,

but i was left to wonder...

i stood behind that counter on friday.

friday is ice-cream day and my hands were sticky from a melted mess and there was one guy who walked in with ear-buds blaring and cap pulled down and he leaned against the edge and wouldn't meet my eyes.

little ones i can talk to.

the older girls? there's always something to find common ground over - hair, clothes, make-up...

but a boy on the edge of being a man?

i am at a loss.

and really, i think they may be at a loss too.

i mean, i'm tony's wife and i'm a thousand years old and what do i know about what they know and so canipleasehavemyicecreamandgetthisawkwardmomentoverwithasfastaspossible? thank you very much.

so i did what i do and made small talk about school and kept it light and laughed at my own jokes as i put that first scoop in the cone when he took out that one ear-bud and blurted out a sentence of pain.

and i set down the spoon and let the ice cream drip while it all poured out and he stood there at the end broken.

my first thought wasn't to ask him if he knew Jesus.

why did i stand there wishing that i knew how to make his pain stop when i know very well Who can bind up his brokenness?

Jesus, He is so easy to talk about with like-minded friends - with those you suspect just might know Him too. but when the faces across the counter will barely crack a smile...

i am ashamed at my lack of courage.

because why am i there if not to share the love of Jesus? why am i there if not to be His Heart to those places that are gasping for Hope?

my prayer changed this weekend.

olivia has the bold gene...

she didn't get it from me.

but the God Who can take faith, tiny and small, and move mountains with it? He can take my fear and grow deep and bold courage from it...

i just have to say yes.

and it was on a quiet weekend evening that i read these words...

scripture describes a radical, reoriented life for those who trust

Christ - one full of living for the invisible and the future. it is a life

fully surrendered to an invisible God whose agenda for my time here

is contrary to my own, a life very different from the safe, comfortable

one i was creating.

i started craving something that had never seemed acceptable to

me until that day...a reckless faith, a faith where i knew God was

real because i needed Him, a faith where i lived surrendered, obedi-

ent, a faith where i sacrificed something...comfort or safety or practicality...

something. but my heart raced faster when i thought

of it, and something about it resonated.

stepping out wholly dependent on God to come through, step-

ping away from what is secure and comfortable exposes the holes

in our faith. and then if God comes through, it expands our faith.

something about stepping off cliffs where God leads allows God the

opportunity to move in greater ways. when we step off and He shows

up, we see Him differently than we would if we were standing safely

looking over the edge.

jennie allen - anything

my prayer changed this weekend...

and all He needed was my yes to begin moving and growing a boldness and courage that would terrify me if it wasn't for the fact that i said that yes to that risk in the first place.

and the gene that makes olivia so bold in her asking? it's in His blood that was poured out for her.

for me.

for you.

sometimes it just takes a little longer to surface in some than in others...

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation

to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek.

For in it the righteousness of God is revealed from faith for faith, as it is written,

“The righteous shall live by faith.” (Romans 1:16-17, ESV)

a gift picked up, put away, put back

2187. carton of strawberries

2188. end of the day mess

2189. laundry soap for another load

3 gifts about you

2190. desire for Jesus

2191. love of baking

2192. getting to teach my little ones at home

3 gifts found in His Word

2193. He gives direction and purpose

2194. it's all full of His breath

2195. hope that changes me

a gift in a box, a bag, a book

2196. 2 pies

2197. books bundled together

2198. glimpses of grace in the gift of family come near

3 gifts unexpected

2199. a reminder for sanctuary on saturday

2200. a day turned around

2201. a kitchen done and a friend washing my floors

3 gifts from your childhood

2202. memories of puppy breath relived

2203. love of quiet sunday afternoons

2204. that chocolate chip cookie recipe

a gift sweet, sour, salty

2205. a hug from my aunt and uncle

2206. a small bowl of yogurt before bed

2207. peanut butter stuffed pretzels

3 gifts found in little people

2208. imagination

2209. arms-flung-wide hugs

2210. trust

3 gifts that made you laugh

2211. coffee with a friend

2212. tony's protective eye-wear

2213. olivia's frog dance

3 gifts found in community

2214. bob - willing to hold zeruiah

2215. gane - sittin with lyla and her schoolwork

2216. christina - the way she loves olivia

a gift in a plate, pot, package

2217. cloudy day banana bread

2218. fresh roses

2219. canadian chocolate

3 gifts hard giving thanks for

2220. little one messes - it's only for a season

2221. an unknown - He knows

2222. risk taking - isn't really a risk in His Hands

a gift worn, white, whispered

2223. mama-weariness

2224. late spring clouds

2225. lyla-secrets

3 gifts found in church

2226. children's program

2227. a re-grounding for the week

2228. receiving communion

3 gifts in today's work

2229. cleaned home

2230. completed school work

2231. midnight nursing

a gifts at 8am, 12pm, 8pm

2232. everyone fed and dressed

2233. a home ready for guests

2234. one last story before bed

3 gifts blue

2235. zeruiah's blue eyes

2236. my favorite pen found

2237. the sky at dusk

3 gifts you gave today

2238. a listening ear

2239. a hug

2240. a bedtime prayer

3 gifts orange

2241. that new book

2242. washing lyla's giraffe shirt

2243. orange slices in my water

3 gifts funny

2244. liv boxing with jake in the church foyer

2245. tony's random songs

2246. she turned 5 months old laughing...

{the grace series will continue on wednesday...}

to the one who hides behind the fine...chapter 4 {the grace series}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Thu, 23 May 2013 00:21:00 -0700

even in laughter the heart may ache,

and joy may end in grief. proverbs 14:13

it's okay to not be fine.

it's okay to stand and say, i'm a mess. it's a mess...*life* is a mess.

it's okay to come out from behind the facade and sit bare and broken and bruised.

i know - it doesn't feel like it.

the last thing that anyone freely embraces is vulnerability - it's scary and open and intimate.

you have that reputation to uphold and that strength everyone seems to rely on and aren't you the one who always seems to keep the peace? make everything better?

make everyone laugh?

yeah...

that's you.

and her.

and me.

i sit surrounded most days, by the most vulnerable among us.

my own children and other mothers children.

more often than not, there is laughter.

lots of laughter...

but there are the days when the veneer cracks just a little and you are let in to the broken places and there is nothing you can do but reach out a hand and try and cup around that hurt with the little you have and trust the God Who is big enough to be enough.

my own little girl,

her veneer cracked wide open this afternoon - the fine she was trying so bravely to hide behind wasn't strong enough anymore and she just needed to hear, needed to know that the heart she grew under would always beat strong for her - would never stop loving her. would never stop pulsing to the rhythm of her mama's love for her.

she needed to know that who she was behind her fine had worth.

i pulled her close onto my lap, wiped those tears away and she leaned her ear over this heart and she listened.

...so often, the idea that we have to keep it together no matter what is what keeps
good girls from coming out from behind our sweet, smiling exteriors. we believe
that any amount of broken mess disqualifies us from useful activity for God, so
we determine to stay decidedly broken.

grace for the good girl (pg. 51)

and being broken begins to take many forms,

conforming you to the ideals and ideas of the people around you until you either become hopeless or angry or both and then you spiral downward again because the good always take the middle - doesn't everyone know that leaning to the right or to the left, even just a little, is bad.

feeling scared meant i needed more faith. feeling anger

meant i needed more control. feeling confused meant i

needed to get it together and figure things out. in theory, i knew

i was supposed to cast my fear, anger, confusion on the Lord.

but after "trusting" Him with my circumstances, i thought

it was my responsibility to change the emotions and keep

myself from experiencing them again.

gftgg (pg. 55)

around and around it goes and the cycle, it never is unbroken because the only thing truly broken

is you.

but you keep clinging to what left you broken, because that is the thing that defines you. that is what you keep coming back to, because that is tangible. and sometimes, even what is ugly can feel safe because it is what feels familiar...

it might be time to let go.

let go of the broken shards that leave you bloody and weak and instead cling tightly to the wild and unpredictable God Whose grace is pure and gentle enough to love you whole.

honesty before God is the only safe place, and i believe He is

wise enough and loving enough and intuitive enough to usher us

into honesty with people...only as i depend on and trust in and fully

disclose to the One Who knows anyway will i be able to discern when

i'm fine-ing someone who deserves genuine...

gftgg (pg. 56)

i've learned it the hard way -

i've lived believing that in order to be truly authentic, truly vulnerable, one has to fully disclose to everyone.

i wish that i had known better sooner...

i've also learned, through the hard way, that Jesus - the One Who knit me together and ordained all my days - He is trustworthy. and as i've learned to trust Him more, He brings the safe and the trustworthy ones to love me in the middle of my mess.

and it is good.

and it is safe.

and He takes the fine and makes it healed.

or healing...

it depends on the day.

step out from behind the lie of the fine.

yes - there will be those that walk away, there even may be those that will make fun of your risk.

but you will find that it is good - really. it is.

you just have to take that first step...

our fluctuating humanness is there on purpose, to remind

us of our need and draw us to the One Who can meet it. we

don't have to figure out the whys and the origins of every

swinging emotion. but it is so important that we admit they

are there. to embrace the color and fullness of our emotional,

un-fine state is to open wide enough to receive compassion

and grace. only then will we be able to offer that same com-

passion and grace to others in honest and authentic ways.

gftgg (pg. 58)

His overwhelming Grace is waiting...

to the woman-who-thinks-she's-a-failure...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 14 May 2013 15:29:00 -0700

i get it.

i really do.

and that one moment of failure?

it can have you locked still with your eyes on what's burning down behind you.

i sometimes wonder if that's why she was told to not look back -

that maybe it was because she'd never be able to look forward again.

and eyes that could see vibrant colours, a mouth that could laugh joyful, ears that heard the sweet voices of her children...

all crumbled to a salty dust.

and what all lay before her was no more,

what was behind her was drifting away in ash,

and the woman only known as lot's wife?

she stood frozen in the space between.

failure has this way of bringing out the worst in us - we either turn a blind eye and inwardly rot, or we remain glued to what was and become the hardened living and either way,

either way,

we crumble.

i get it.

moving forward, placing that one dragging foot in front of the other seems wrong.

that moving forward doesn't seem right, because you chose the foolish way and living out your faith seems a mockery because a christian should be better than you have been...

i've heard it,

i've cupped that poison in my own frozen hands and felt my hope and my failures drain me all away.

and there is a death that happens on the road from sodom to zoar, a death that happens in that broken place between what was and where you are heading to.

and that could be the end.

it could be.

except for Jesus.

please wait, because yes, it does seem too simple,

and yes, you did mess up

and yes, you could have made a different choice...

but just stop for a minute,

you're already standing there frozen anyways...

Jesus.

let Him near?

let Him breathe over you, stirring your heart and that hope you let go of and fill your lungs up again.

breathe deeply,

because you are not defined by what you have done - you are defined by Whose you are and you,

woman-who-thinks-she's failed,

you are His.

and when you are His, with failures and brokenness and sin splattered all over you,

He only sees Jesus.

He sees the Holy One Who boldly took your place.

so take that step - that frozen, halting step.

move your foot forward and then move the other one too,

let the wind blow the dust of death off of you, because you are not some shell of a woman lifeless and without use...

you are His and He will use even the salt that caked your face dry to cause a thirst in some other parched heart

and you will find that what left you frozen will lead you to His water that never runs low.

you are not a failure.

you don't have to be stuck between what has been and the elusive what-could-be...

His heart is there, thrumming deep inside you -

it's time to start moving forward again.

come and hear, all you who fear God,

and i will tell what He has done for my soul.

psalm 66:16

3 gifts found in Christ
2118. sitting in the hot sun with a sister-in-Jesus, sharing our hearts over His Word
2119. relationships deepened
2120. when we have been with Him, others can see (acts 4:13)

3 gifts close
2121. his kisses in the warm sun
2122. teaching the girls to read all pressed in close
2123. the younger 3 tackling me in bed

3 gifts reflecting
2124. sleepy mornings in front of the fridge
2125. moonlight on grass
2126. remembering lyla small

3 gifts fragile
2127. gramma's ring
2128. lyla's heart
2129. the smallness of zeruiah

a gift cloth, steel, wood
2130. those dish cloths
2131. his commitment to us
2132. cherry trees all in a line

3 gifts moving
2133. that crazy strong wind
2134. her hand on my cheek
2135. days that speed by

3 gifts "ugly beautiful"
2136. a back that seizes - move slow
2137. a "from scratch yard" - endless possibilities
2138. sibling conflict - learning to work out the hard things

3 gifts orange
2139. deeauna
2140. robin
2141. those shoes on my feet. :)

3 gifts in dirt
2142. candy tuft. lots. of. candy. tuft.
2143. that one purple tulip
2144. new grass coming up

a gift given, made, sacrificed
2145. tony's promise
2146. our babies
2147. saying not to what i really wanted

3 gifts tasted
2148. the second cup of coffee - with a friend
2149. blueberry yogurt
2150. home-canned peaches

3 gifts flat
2151. fedex parcels arriving right on time
2152. made up songs by sisters in the back seat
2153. the folded laundry pile

3 gifts found in difficult people
2154. a strengthening in my spirit
2155. tony and i drawing closer
2156. to realize it's not a competition

3 gifts before 9am
2157. sunrise sightings
2158. early morning coffee
2159. the start of a journey

a gift in a sign, a smile, a snack
2160. that hidden inn on the mountain
2161. that they had intense children too
2162. strawberry icecream-on-a-stick

3 gifts found in Christ
2163. that i am found in Him
2164. i may know Him and the power of His resurrection
2165. my righteousness comes from faith in Jesus Christ

3 gifts about your home
2166. the light
2167. the improved kitchen
2168. that we are all together under this roof

3 gifts inside a closet
2169. a mess of hand-me-downs
2170. organized jackets
2171. all those canned peaches

3 gifts found in the dark
2172. soul-changing prayer
2173. cricket song
2174. cool breezes

a gift outside, inside, upside down
2175. a mowed lawn
2176. my kitchen ceiling
2177. that we are here

3 gifts about your parents
2178. married 40 years
2179. all those years of piano lessons despite my complaining
2180. raised me to love a wide-open alberta sky

3 gifts held in hand today
2181. 7 week old barney
2182. all of their hands at some point
2183. that rose - thorns and all

3 gifts found in your mother
2184. passed on her love of reading
2185. taught me how to iron a man's shirt the right way
2186. that her birthday was yesterday...

in the blooming - the end of chapter 2...{the grace series}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Sun, 12 May 2013 21:17:00 -0700

the irises bloomed while we were gone -

tall and violet and graceful.

the girls caterpillars bloomed too - they busted out of their cocoons in the middle of the night, while it was quiet and dark and no one to witness it and their orange painted wings stretched strong in the early morning light.

they were going to release them - after the charlotte's web fair was done and after they had popcorn and snow cones and their skin turned rosy-red in the hot may sun.

they would open up that clear plastic lid and just let them flutter away...

there's one painted lady who seems to be more robust then the rest. the girls have named this one hoppy. she beats her wings and flies against the netting, bouncing off of it and landing on her back.

but she flutters and beats those wings until she is literally hopping, until she gets enough air under her so that she can flip over and once again fly.

it makes them all laugh,

but hoppy? she makes me want to cheer.

she doesn't do it gracefully, this learning to fly and strengthening her wings. she's clumsy and seems to always been running into another butterfly or two on her way,

but she doesn't give up, and maybe that's why i watch her.

we've been away, been loved on and taken care of and hidden away in a cabin in the mountains and green.

i've held lyla's hand as she whispers it quietly,

mama, it's so quiet here - my ears really like it.

we've been away and i've watched as my older three wrestle with the slowing down, with getting used to bugs and being outside for 14 hours a day and sleeping in the unfamiliar and new.

and as i walked through that garden gate everyday for almost a week, as i stood underneath stars so bright in the blackest sky,

as i woke up to a mountain rain pounding on the roof above me,

i've realized i need to rethink grace.

it's kind of hoppy-ish, if you will.

but here's the thing, sometimes we need to keep bouncing off of what has hemmed us in before we can become strong enough to fly.

grace is something to wrestle with - simple in concept, yes, but hard to grasp in the actual living out.

tony and i, we've talked a lot in this past week - of Jesus and christianity and living radically and completely surrendered lives to Him.

we've talked of what that means to live contrary to the pull of the culture around us - to walk instead under the pull of Christ's Lordship over our lives.

and to be honest, there is that small voice that whispers...

we are going to be odd.

and that's when i find it, near the end of chapter 2 that i read these words,

character refers to who you are. reputation refers to who people think

you are. i generally care more about who people think i am than who i really am.

but Jesus was not a person trying to keep a good reputation in tact. during His life

on earth, he never tried to explain Himself for the sake of His reputation.

He breaks all social etiquette in relation to people. He

acknowledges no barriers or human divisions. there is no

category of sinners He isolates Himself from.

simply stated, Jesus is a miserable failure at

meeting religious people's expectations of Him...

...though He was without sin, there were still those who questioned His

reputation. knowing there were people who disagreed, even hated Him, didn't

cause Him to change one thing He did. He wasn't working to maintain a good

reputation. he was walking in dependence on His Father. Jesus didn't value what people

thought; He valued people, period.

grace for the good girl (pg. 47-48)

our pastor, he spoke on the assurance of salvation this morning - how it's all curled up in 1 john; we can know that we are His through the way we love each other...

and i have failed.

deeply and horribly and in soul-shattering ways.

but i heard it as i stood folding laundry while the washing machine hummed, as elyse fitzpatrick spoke about justification and everything that it means;

it's not only as if i had never sinned...

but being justified is living as if i had always obeyed.

Christ's grace is shocking and soothing and it covers over all the places that i fail...

He valued people, not what they thought about Him or His ministry or the decisions He made. and Jesus calls me and you to live like that too.

reputation can be a carefully crafted place that keeps you safe, that makes you look good - but it keeps you unknown.

we can't love well when we are hiding, when we don't live authentically, with vulnerability - really, when we are placing the idol of self in front of those around us.

it's only when we place Jesus first, when we choose Him over a mask that keeps us safe, it's then that we find grace,

that we learn to love,

and that being good dulls in comparison of being like Christ...

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. philippians 3:7-11

the good not in me - on chapter 2...{the grace series}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Thu, 2 May 2013 23:32:00 -0700

the word good can actually be a not-so-good word after all...

i think i've known this for a while.

kind of like when you make that decision to cut out all sugar and that friend holds that dark chocolate brownie in her hands and says so sweetly, come on! one bite, just one! it's soooo good!!

yeah - good can be objective.

unless it's resting on the lips of God.

He saw all He had made and called it good,

He saw His Son and was so very pleased.

His Spirit - He's characterized by goodness...

He is good.

and then there is me.

and oh. i want to be good.

i want you to see me as good.

but i know, deep down, that for years i lived up to the expectations that are placed on the good girl who loves Jesus.

i wasn't defined by Him, i was defined by what was expected.

and i tried hard.

and when i kept failing, i gave up caring.

and then i was a bad girl living in good girl clothes.

it was a touch crazy and chaotic and there are still moments that i wonder how in the world i ever made it back to Jesus.

but ever since then, ever since that moment on that winding road under those bright stars, feeling like my shame was going to swallow me whole and begging Him for just. one. more. chance...

i have felt like i'm running up hill - always one step behind everyone else who seems to have it all together.

i have felt a mess.

when we believe that God expects us to try hard to become

who Jesus wants us to be, we will live in that blurry, frustrating

land of Should Be rather than trust in The One Who Is. we will

do whatever we believe it takes to please God rather

than receive the acceptance that has already been given. we

will perform to live up to what we believe His expectation is of us

rather than expectantly wait on Him.

grace for the good girl (pg 32)

what happened to believing in the truth that all of the work was done by The Son on the cross?

why are we, am i, constantly trying so hard to earn His approval?

why am i expecting to fail, to let Him down and start back at square one because isn't that where all the losers go?

my word for this year has been expectancy. my baby girl, the one who filled me large with the expecting of her turns 4 months today. the stretching and filling and those final hard months are still so fresh on my mind...expectancy can be a long, slow, hard thing to hold.

because really, you live in a state of not knowing what to expect.

and so, i try and manage what seems manageable. if i don't know what to expect from my life, from Jesus, or even from tomorrow, i'll focus on what i think a strong, good christian woman should look like.

our desire to be the good girl, the good Christian, the good

wife, and the good mom becomes our number one priority,

and Jesus isn't even in the room...

grace for the good girl (pg 32)

i need to stop here - not because the baby is crying, though, she will be soon because of those first two teeth that are making sleep hard to come by - but because my heart needs to rest here.

i need to pause and look around me,

is He even here?

and yes, He is here - He is with me and He won't ever leave, but have i been so focused on everything else that i forget that He. Is. ?

God looks at your heart. He sees not only your outward "churchy" identity; He sees

who you really are, why you do what you do, and what you really mean when you

proclaim your allegiance to Him. this face should alarm us all.

and it would, if not for the gospel.

think of it; you no longer have to live for mere human approval.

you are freed from trying to approve of yourself. God approves of

you because you have a new heart, a new name, a new love, a new desire.

believers, having acknolwedged their sinfulness and accepted the

gift of divine approval, are in a position to reveal themselves as they

really are. this ought to make believers the most transparent and

childlike people in the world. *

He approves of you because you are covered with the righteousness

of the beloved Son with whom He is well pleased. you please Him.

His commendation, welcome, acceptance - yes, even His praise - are yours!

is that enough? pray that it will be as true for you today as it

already is for Him.

comforts from Romans (pg. 41-42)

He is.

and i have not been...

but because of Him and the work that He did - His grace covers me and He is the good that is now in me.

staggering, beautiful truth.

even when i fail,

even when i mess up...again,

He is the good that is now in me.

for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

when Christ, Who is your life appears, then you also will

appear with Him in glory.

colossians 3:3-4

thank you, Jesus.

*quote within the quote was written by r.h. mounce

in the messy and ugly...{the grace series}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Fri, 26 Apr 2013 23:00:00 -0700

it wasn't dismal, per say, when we first bought the house.

all i saw when we first walked through was the space and the potential.

it wasn't dismal until we got a good look at our backyard when the snow finally thawed and spring began to whisper and we saw the damage that this past summer had done.

here's the shocking news: God loves to display His mercy by wrecking "good" people.

that seems counterintuitive, doesn't it? we think that God loves to wreck bad people, to strip them of their badness, and of course, He does. but God also delights in wrecking those who

seem good, at least outwardly.

Comforts from Romans (pg. 16)

tony, he can see the end result despite the sheer magnitude of everything that needs to be done, and he plants cherry trees and reseeds and tears out and reconfigures and waters and plans and smiles all the while.

me?

i clear off our deck, angle the picnic table just so and throw a pretty table cloth on top so that is what i can look at instead of what feels too big,

too messy,

too ugly.

it was as i was sitting at our kitchen table this morning with coffee in hand, looking at the cloth blowing in the breeze that it hit me...prettying up the situation is actually rather laughable. it fixes nothing.

paul's primary impediment to relationship with God was not his

irreligion, it was his religion.

Comforts from Romans (emphasis mine)

all my attempts to earn, all my settling in to the comfort of north american religion is just like that small bit of cloth trying to cover up a yard overgrown and dead. it may look pretty lovely from just the right angle, but as a whole? it's just a small patch of fake roses on a whole lot of ugly.

there isn't grace here, there's just a lot of trying to live up to the law.

and that gets overwhelming,

and that has always been the place where i throw up my hands and figure i'll never understand grace like a good christian girl should.

but i'll just keep throwing the word around like i know what i'm talking about...

...one day, just when we would assume that paul had gone too far and

really blown his chances with Jesus, Jesus knocked him off his feet,

blinded him and introduced him to grace.

...paul's story is good news for those of us who are tempted to put

our trust in ourselves...to merit God's favor. grace is so surprising!

it's surprising because while it may seem likely that a prostitute would

recognize her need for rescue, the homeschooling, bread-baking, devotion-

reading mom who attends her local church faithfully (while trusting in her

own goodness) will choke on the humiliating message of gospel rescue.

Comforts from Romans

tony, he gets such joy from working in the yard, fixing up this space under our feet that is our own. i love watching him, because when he is truly focused, he doesn't even notice me noticing him.

when he calls me down to explain his vision and thoughts and why he is doing what he's doing, i'll admit it, i get really overwhelmed. i can't see it in my head.

but he can and i trust him.

and in another summer or two, we'll begin to see the results of what he has done.

did you catch that?

what tony has done.

that's a glimpse of grace.

if we are to embrace the message of the gospel and become free,

joyous and zealous servants of Jesus Christ, than all - and i really mean

all - the work has to be done by Him. why? so that all the glory will go to him, so

that we boast in the work of Jesus alone. (isa. 48:11)...

through the good news of the gospel, the Lord graciously strips us of

our slavish devotion to our reputation...He frees us from the incessant nagging

of our inner slave drive and frees us to love others without being

slavishly driven by them either. he ruins our pride in our accomplishments,

thereby freeing us from the demand that others live up to our expectations.

Comforts from Romans

when that backyard of ours is all said and done, the only credit i will be able to take is when he asked for my thoughts i said, do whatever you want to baby, because i can't envision it.

i'll be able to enjoy it, i'll be able to rest in it and pick the cherries the birds leave behind, but as for the credit?

i can already feel it swelling up in my chest because i know, deep down know,

it will all go to my Groom.

Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—

(Philippians 3:8-9 ESV)

(more thoughts on monday...)

when your soul splits... {the grace series}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 22:38:00 -0700

it started long before that rose covered journal closed tight with that brass coloured lock.

before i began to fill up those lined pages with teenage angst begging to know who i was.

looking back, twenty years later, i know now what i was so desperately questioning;

i wasn't longing to know who i was,

i was wanting to know if i could ever be good.

because when you are four years old and you pray a prayer and ask Jesus into your heart, and then the very next year your innocence is taken by a teenage boy in the nursery of a church...

you do everything you can to fix what has been shattered inside.

whispers in the dark of don't tell become dark lies in your soul and you will do anything to keep up appearances for appearances sake.

no one tells you when you are five how to navigate moments like that.

and so the good girl,

this good girl

is born.

you have maybe had your moment too - that moment when your soul split in two.

that space in time when your smile was plastered to your face while those secrets began to swirl in the dark and everything seemed off kilter because,

well...

it was.

shadow and light become muddled and foggy and you try and work harder so that you can finally make the two marry and maybe, just maybe, make God happy.

because that is what good girls do.

they make everyone happy.

did your shoulders just droop a bit under the weight of those words?

and grace?

it's a five letter word that everyone seems to pass around so freely - like those sunday morning handshakes or the promises of "i'll pray" that we never seem to keep.

and grace becomes a part of our lingo that we never know the origin of -

we just know that it's a word that good christians say and so we do.

often.

all the while our hearts harden and our eyes glaze over and we keep putting one tired foot in front of the other, trying somehow to earn some elusive approval and finally, finally be good

deep down good.

or maybe that's just me...

i hide behind my smile and my laid-back personality.

i hide behind fine and good. i hid behind strong and responsible.

i hide behind busy and comfortable and working hard toward

your expectations. and if i do not meet your expectations,

i hide behind indifferent. and though the purpose of my mask is

to fool you, don't be fooled.

the energy it takes to live for you is killing me...i want you to regard me.

please, by all means, regard me. i beg you to see me, to notice my goodness,

to ignore my failure, to be inspired by my beauty, to be captivated

by my essence. i want my loveliness to overwhelm you such

that you cannot catch your breath.

grace for the good girl (pg. 18)

i think it starts here at this place that is raw and tender underneath everything.

because when you know that God loves you, but you don't really believe He means you...

you'll do everything you can to earn that love from Him and her and him and them.

and grace?

i just want to be liked.

grace?

i just want them to be happy with me.

grace?

oh goodness, i just want to be finally seen and noticed and applauded.

it has everything to do with keeping myself safe and you happy and nothing to do with Jesus because He is wild and unpredictable and Someone i can never control.

and so i hide,

i smile.

and i adjust my good face

once again.

until it finally isn't enough anymore.

the hollowness and emptiness of the pseudo-good life begins to suffocate and that is what this past year has been for me.

and i wonder if as zeruiah's life began to grow deep inside if that isn't when He began to stir something up in my soul and as she began to outgrow my skin, i began to outgrow my fear and it wasn't enough anymore, to live in the quiet and the good...

i wanted Jesus.

fear drives.

but Love leads.

"now to Him Who is able to do far more abundantly than all that

we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be

glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations,

forever and ever. amen" (ephesians 3:20-21 ESV)

that invisible good girl pushes me around. fear drives,

pushing and shoving. Love leads, working deeply and gently within.

as i risk exposure to receive this Love, i catch a glimpse

of His goodness, i am inspired by His beauty, i am

captivated by His essence. His loveliness overwhelms me such

that i cannot catch my breath. and before i realize it,

there has been a holy shift. my insatiable need to prove my

own goodness to God and the world fades into the background, and

instead i receive truth and offer worship to the only One

deserving of it.

grace for the good girl (pg. 19)

i needed Grace...

(join me again on friday?)

nothing is wasted...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 13:34:00 -0700

you have been grace to me.

from the moment we sat for those three hours and talked away that class i didn't really want to go to anyways until i stood up 6 months later in cool mountain air,

and you remained kneeling,

you have been His grace.

i just didn't always see it.

i don't know if you can ever truly know how you have cupped this heart of mine and protected and nurtured and loved me into the woman i am today.

there aren't enough words to say how thankful i am to you

for packing that picnic basket

12 years ago today -

for finding the perfect spot at the base of that mountain,

with snow still on the ground,

and for taking that chance on the girl so broken

and loving her into the half of us i am.

oh tony, i love you.

for every road we've walked together, for every detour and dead end that we thought would shatter us, i have learned with you that nothing is wasted when we trust in the One Who takes our broken places and causes beauty, His beauty, to bloom.

thank you. thank you for asking and for being so very confident i would say yes.

i love you.

love,
me

(the grace series will begin quietly tomorrow...)

when you begin a journey...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 19:50:00 -0700

i still remember the naming of her all those years ago.

she was named with intention.

she was named with preconceived notions of what her names would mean for her.

i had no idea how my life was about to change with the arrival of this daughter.

i had no idea how much i didn't understand.

grace is like that.

for many years, i lived as a believer in God, but i did not live

from God. i was a child of the God of grace, but i was looking for

life in the law.

emily p. freeman

i am a good girl and grace terrifies me. i don't understand it. I don't know how to live with it or extend it or even, to be honest, how to receive it.

i am a good girl whose mistakes and rebellions have put a smudge, or twenty, all over the word good.

but i am a christian, shouldn't all christian girls be...good?

the word grace - it gets thrown around like i should know what it means, but i don't.

i don't.

almost 30 years since my first prayer and all i know is that this one word leaves me uncomfortable, raw and ready to run.

and yet this one word, this one that sounds like silk, that whispers rest and peace and all good things i am not - it is everywhere. it won't let me go. or maybe, more accurately, He won't let me go. and His Hand, it finds me in that book that i keep signing out at the library. the one that claims it's for the good girls and i can't get past the first page because i know i am not. but the numerous check-outs from that library counter is becoming ridiculous and so i finally just sit down and read.

and i can't stop.

because His grace isn't for the good ones.

they don't exist.

His grace is for all and He offers it, scarred Hands outstretched to the broken and sin-weary and to every good girl who hides her mess with a mask.

it's for all of us.

it's an intimate journey, this pursuing of grace - because it weaves it's way into the most public of areas and the places deep and still. but it's a pursuing of hope, because God's grace is so very rich, so very life changing and dripping with mercy and for the last month or so, i've sensed His invitation to come and discover what His grace really means.

i don't know if there is anyone who will join me, if there is anyone who needs to discover and know for themselves too, but this is what i'll be doing over the next few weeks here, with His Word and this book and stepping out from fear and into His scandalous love.

i won't be publishing these posts on facebook and i may or may not turn off comments...because this is a quiet discovery, and i feel that this space needs that stillness too.

but every journey no matter how big or how small has the great capacity to take you places where you have never been and more often than not, a journey is so much more enjoyable when you don't travel alone. so maybe you need to place your feet in the footsteps of Jesus to discover how deep His grace towards you is - and maybe you wouldn't mind if i tagged along too.

but that first step? it is one that stands on the truth of thankfulness...

and whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do everything in the

Name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father

through Him.

colossians 3:17 esv

a gift in bag, in a box, in a book
2100. coffee
2101. all those blocks, made by his uncle
2102. grace. grace

3 hard eucharisteos
2103. nothing is wasted
2104. brokenness
2105. really seeing

3 gifts woven together
2106. confession and repentence
2107. joy and sorrow
2108. His beauty and our ashes

3 gifts inherited
2109. gramma's teacups
2110. her engagement ring on my finger
2111. his hair, just like his daddy's

3 gifts square
2112. homemade invites
2113. patch of moonlight
2114. broken prayers on paper

a gift stacked, stashed, stilled
2115. those dishes
2116. that irish pasta
2117. the 3 older ones piled on top of me just before bed

when it's hard to be still...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 12:36:00 -0700

"be still, and know that I Am God,

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!"

psalm 46:10

in light of tragedies and loss and and bombs and fear and all those unknowns...

sometimes it's okay to quiet.

to slow.

i don't think you have to know the answers,

though we would like them.

sometimes restlessness rages in because there must be *something* you can do...

and there are times for that.

but sometimes,

maybe the better thing

is just to sit in His presence.

to allow Him to quiet your heart from all those fears and from all the unknowns.

and maybe it's naive -

that mama and i talked in that playground last week,

we talked of those "what ifs",

what if, as we sat there on that green, a bullet flew and one of us died,

if one our children were struck,

what then?

and she said it quiet,

i would still trust Him. i would. because i know where we are going and i know Who is in control. but maybe that's foolish. a lot of my friends think so...

and i looked at her and i shared what we've lost. i shared of that horrid new year's eve and the life we lost in the softly falling snow. i looked at her and i told her that it's faith. it's trusting in a good God when everything else falls apart.

because when it all seems good, when everything seems to be going our way, that is precisely when we need to plant those seeds of faith...

so that when it all falls apart, when everything around us explodes in chaos and all those unknowns fly in the air around us, we can rest in His presence,

maybe not knowing the whys, but knowing, so very deep down, that He is good.

3 gifts round
2058. mug of coffee
2059. crispy apple
2060. that dimple under her lip

3 gifts white
2061. clean teeth
2062. lazy, hazy clouds
2063. apple blossoms in those orchards

3 gifts surprisingly found
2064. kindred spirits
2065. matching socks
2066. common ground

3 gifts in His Word
2067. luke 10:22 - my name is in heaven
2068. romans 1:12 It is a gift to be encouraged by another's faith
2069. acts 2:28 - He shows us the path to life - being with Him is joy

3 gifts @ 11AM, 2PM, 6PM
2070. school chaos
2071. nap snuggles with zeruiah
2072. laughter at MH

3 gifts nailed together
2073. this house
2074. the fence the neighbour fixed
2075. my desk

3 gifts waited for
2076. that abused dog we adopted - her tail finally wagged when she saw us!
2077. vacation plans finalized
2078. those cherry trees to bloom

3 gifts raising up
2079. 8 hours of sleep uninterrupted
2080. seeing beauty in our ashes
2081. watching the sun come up in the early nursing hours

a gift hiding, held, heard
2082. elias under his blanket
2083. zeruiah snuggled up in that ergo
2084. lyla singing

3 gifts opened up
2085. yellow tulips
2086. jar of salsa
2087. a book avoided too long

3 gifts budding/blooming
2088. our japenese weeping willow
2089. hyacinths
2090. those flowers hanging over our fence

3 gifts worn
2091. that circle of gold and diamonds on my finger
2092. skin stretched, changed
2093. zeruiah's tears

3 gifts bright
2094. date night
2095. all their smiles
2096. 6 AM morning light

3 gifts found looking up
2097. dark rain clouds
2098. the cross that points to hope
2099. tony's hope beyond circumstances

and it's in the little ways,

the small thanks that keep me quiet before Him.

He is here - even when it's chaos,

even when it's scary and we don't understand.

Jesus is here and i quiet my heart before Him...

(and huge thank you to Gravrock Photography for including our little family in the pictures at Madison House...a gift treasured.)

the orange rhino, #romansproject, zeruiah, and a video of the last 2...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Fri, 5 Apr 2013 18:42:00 -0700

it's been in the last month or two - since the newness of a newborn wears off and bone-weary fatigue sets in that i find my the decibels of my voice raising higher and more often then i would like them to.

i never wanted to be that mama.

you know the one.

the one who yells because she's frustrated,

yells because she's tired,

yells because what else is there to do because everyone is yelling anyways and i may as well join in.

i never wanted to be her.

and it's after a day when i yelled too often and i felt like a failure that i met a dear friend in the corner of a coffee shop and we share our struggles and she shares this plan that she found and we sit and we laugh over the crazy solutions but something clicks...

i can make a choice.

so i do.

i make that choice not to yell.

for one year.

easy, right?

yes...you can laugh.

so, i put on my orange shirts, drink out of my orange water bottle, i chuckle over the idea of taking that moment, the one where your voice starts raising and yelling instead into the toilet and flushing it all away. (i haven't tried it yet, but when i do, i'll let you know).

and resolve begins to waver and yesterday afternoon, i send my sweet friend a text. i have to start over. one too many things had been knocked over, spilled across and i opened my mouth and this exasperated mommy blew.

i sit on the floor this morning, across from my husband and i recite verses. ones in romans i'm trying to memorize. i know my failures from the day before, i know i could fail loudly again today; when the obvious dawns on me and it all makes sense - because He is here and He loves to give when we ask for His wisdom.

if i empty my mouth of all yelling, i need to fill up that empty space with Him.

instead of just yelling into the cavernous and flushing it all away, can i take those moments when i would rather vent my frustration and instead speak His Words over the moment? instead of filling up these walls around us with mommy-angst, can i fill this space up with Him?

can i invite Him in to each moment? not just the quiet and peace-full moments that are rare and hard to hang on to. but the loud and chaotic and the ones that quickly unravel if i don't stay on top of it all?

so, while the older three play in the background and laugh and play and whine just a little, i take the youngest and she and i? we sit on that chair and i speak His Word, penned by Paul, over her and i pray that His Grace takes over and that what fills up that memory space in my mind, takes hold of my heart and transforms this mama so that when they are grown and old and think back on us now, they really remember Him...

(i'm linking up with the #romansproject here )

she was once someone's little girl...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Mon, 1 Apr 2013 14:00:00 -0700

i heard the yelling before i fully comprehended the words.

i think i was more focused on all those eyes focused on the same spot across the street.

there is a row of brick houses, walls and foundations all joined together, and there are some who sit out on their front stops each day, no matter the weather.

it was there the yelling was coming from.

i turned and listened as the red faced woman faced us and screamed,

i am the lord thy god!!!!

over and over these words poured from her lips,

over and over she screamed to the group of kids across the street.

it didn't take long for her to collapse.

this woman all weighted down with what warred inside of her,

she fell to her knees and began barking like a dog...

and one girl,

one young girl with sad eyes stood transfixed.

so i stood in front of her,

i said her name and she looked up at me with this look i can't forget and she whispered,

do you think she's got the devil in her?

and i told her i didn't know. i didn't know why she was acting the way she was - that there could be a hundred different reasons for a mind to break from reality.

but it was my first thought.

that morning i had read in the book of luke in chapter nine of a father who begged Jesus to heal his son. this boy who was at the mercy of the demonic and the ESV, it puts it this way,

'...and behold, a spirit seizes him, and he suddenly cries out. it convulses him so that he

foams at the mouth, and shatters him, and will hardly leave him...' (vs. 39)

it was those three words that caught my attention in the early hours and it was those three words that came back to me as i looked at this wild woman rolling around in the grass and the mud...

she was shattered.

broken.

evil wreaks havoc on humanity and Jesus is the only One Who can heal.

i thought of her as i drove home,

thought of her late into the evening not even knowing her name,

but instead of being scared,

instead of thinking of her as crazy,

all i could picture as i thought of her shattered-ness laid bare before everyone around...

she's someones daughter.

somewhere, at sometime, she was someone's little girl who spun in sunshine and laughed at the ridiculous and had hopes and dreams that along the way became shattered and broken and any hope she had was replaced with a mind howling through the dark.

the broken are all around us - and as Easter Sunday passes and gives way to Everyday Monday, i wonder can the broken make their way to Him through me?

it's that story in luke that keeps bringing me back - how the disciples failed the father, but through their failings, they led him to Jesus - to the only One who could heal that someone's son.

He takes the twisted and the shattered - you and me - the ones who lie splayed out on our brokenness and He binds up those wounds, because it was for those wounds, for the brokenhearted ones that He came.

He gives us freedom.

He rebuilds what has been shattered.

He takes the sons and daughters of all those someones and makes them His very own...

3 gifts red

2016. Lyla's love of ketchup

2017. bowl-full of peppers

2018. my kiss on my little boy's cheek

3 gifts eaten

2019. canadian smarties

2020. canadian chocolate

2021. melted mozzarella

3 gifts that made you laugh

2022. my daughters

2023. my son

2024. my husband

3 gift salty, sweet, just right

2025. homemade spaghetti sauce

2026. a caramel latte

2027. banana peppers

3 gifts found in His Word

2028. He heals the shattered

2029. He uses our little

2030. death is conquered

3 gifts found in women today

2031. gane - planting that tree

2032. gina - loving my littles

2033. deaunna - speaking encouragement

3 gifts spoken

2034. forgiveness

2035. "this place is FLOODED with cows!!" (says olivia on a drive through the country)

2036. "why come?" (says lyla who never asks "how"? :) )

a gift sung, written, painted

2037. elias - "10,000 reasons" with his little head thrown back singing loudly in praise behind me as i drive

2038. livie writing "mom"

2039. lyla's "rock dog" by our front door

3 gifts almost gone

2040. zeruiah's second month

2041. that last tea bag

2042. lyla's little years

3 gifts redeemed

2043. my mama-ing - every. single. day.

2044. broken relationships turned around in the next generation

2045. our silly new dog

3 gifts entwined

2046. his heart and mine

2047. our dreams for the future

2048. our arms while we sleep

3 gifts of His promises

2049. death is defeated

2050. He is coming back

2051. in Him, i'm new

3 gifts uncovered

2052. the unlovely is loved by Him

2053. He doesn't allow you to look away from the hard things

2054. sometimes what is revealed causes you to cling tighter

a gift heard, held, hoped for

2055. lyla singing, "o happy day" at the top of her lungs in the Easter Service

2056. Livie dancing behind me

2057. that grass to grow in

for when it happens... {letters to my four}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 14:38:00 -0700

there are some things i've learned as i come to the mid point of my life, and should i be given another 37, almost 36 years, i'm sure i will learn a lot more.

i could come to this place in my life and focus on the one thing that seems to dog my every step,

you will mess up.

not if.

not maybe.

but when.

there will be a myriad of reasons, sweet ones. there will be circumstances beyond your control and there will be details that are very much a part of you and the action you take.

it's just how it is.

and you can take a look at your mess and feel hopeless.

like you have messed up so badly that there is no way to fix it.

i think i was there.

no, that's not true.

i know i was there.

you may know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has placed a call on your life. made it clearer than anything and you keep taking the next step forward each day because you know, eventually, you are going to get there.

and then, you trip.

you land flat on your face.

you drip with the mess you landed yourself in.

and the one who deceives, he comes close and he whispers those words that sink deep and your heart will sink deeper still.

failure

worthless

un-usable

and you may think that all you are good for is to be placed high up on that shelf of the broken,

the useless,

the screw-ups.

and that focus? the one that zeros in on the mess?

it will keep you there.

my bible study leader, miss sue, the one who keeps placing me at her table each session, she finds me and tells me to come again for the next one. who cares that i have a newborn! didn't i know how many arms would hold her?

so i go, and i soak it in. i soak in the message of mercy and i let God get to the tender places that fester with hurt and pain and, dare i say it, anger.

but still i believed, no matter how wrongly, that sure, He can get to those places, heal them and clean them up, but now i'll just be a cleaned up, healed up, broken and useless screw-up saint high up there on the shelf.

right?

that's how it works, isn't it?

oh - i pray that i show you differently.

i pray that you all see it differently than i ever saw it.

because He is becoming what i crave - i can't get enough of Him. this Jesus who continually takes your mama-who-messes-up every. day. and He keeps bending down in the sand and writing out that plan. He does. He really does.

and this is what i learned in that study on james:

he was one of the Lord's brothers who mocked Him and called Him mad.

he was the half-brother of Jesus who didn't believe, but became the head of the Early Church in Jerusalem.

he messed up.

all those years, growing up with Jesus, living life with Creator God and he didn't see. he didn't see His Savior standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

instead, he called Jesus crazy.

but even then, God had a call on his life.

even then.

it never changed.

it never wavered.

"for I know the plans I have for you", declares the Lord, "plans for welfare

and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. then you will call upon Me

and come and pray to Me, and I will hear you. you will seek Me and find Me

when you seek Me with all your heart."

jeremiah 29:11-13

you aren't going to take Him by surprise when you mess up.

He already knows.

His plan covers all that.

no, it probably would have been best if you don't make the choices that you will, that maybe you should have looked a bit closer at the path before you tripped and fell, but where you can only see a bit of the road ahead, He sees the whole world held in His Hands.

if you find yourself dusty and hidden high up on a saintly shelf, know this - Jesus didn't put you there.

you did.

so climb down - wrestle with Him if you have to, let Him work out in you what needs to be worked out. you may find yourself limping afterwards a bit, but keep walking, little one.

keep walking.

the path ahead of you is all part of His plan...

when the snow starts falling again...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 5 Mar 2013 14:47:00 -0800

the snow is falling and my heart is breaking for a friend on the other side of the world.

i wake up through the night because my youngest is hungry and i lift up this friend to the One Who never sleeps.

i grieve for the children who lose their mama and i cry for the friend who feels the distance from home.

and i read of His hard call and i pray the hard prayers and i feel so very small.

the mornings find me in the pages of Luke, walking the first eight chapters over the last eight weeks. it's His Words in verse 15 that lift my eyes towards hope,

as for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in

an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.

i don't remember where i read it, but i remember what francis chan said on those pages - he said, don't assume you are the good soil. just because i belong to a north american church, just because i darken its doors on monday and wednesday and sunday, that my heart is the soil that is soft.

how often is it hard? when news is sad and it hurts to feel, when my day is interrupted or my plans fall through or i just plain don't want to do the right thing? how often do i let thorns and weeds creep up - those stones to rise to the surface and what has been planted dies and withers before it even has a chance?

don't assume.

instead, be attentive, tend to the soil...see what is keeping me from holding fast to Him with an honest and good heart so that fruit can be produced.

those verses in colossians keep coming back - that bearing fruit is tied so strongly to giving joyful thanks - even when it is hard. even through a voice choked with tears.

the psalmist knew it too - felt it deep down when he penned the words,

may those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.

psalm 126:5

and the snow keeps falling, my heart keeps breaking for the friend so far away...

but i till the soil of my heart with the deep furrows of thanksgiving, trusting that what He plants will grow strong and give Him glory in time.

3 gifts found when bent down

1890. zeruiah's dimple

1891. working on legos with lyla

1892. those hugs they all give

a gift stitched, hammered, woven

1893. the blanket from my aunt

1894. the hope chest my grampa made

1895. that bird feeder lyla put together

3 gifts found outside

1896. hanging blankets on the railing - captured smell of sun!

1897.early morning frost

1898. warm enough to play

a gift at 11:30am, 2:30pm, 6:30pm

1899. his little-boy i love you

1900. a nap with my baby

1901. quiet reading with the older 3

a gift broken, fixed, thrifted

1902. spilled crayons

1903. saying, i'm sorry

1904. his "new" shoes

3 surprise gifts - unexpected grace!

1905. seeing a face i've missed

1906. a morning to sleep in

1907. a hidden piece of chocolate

3 times you heard laughter today

1908. both girls in the early morning

1909. elias' deep belly laugh

1910. making tony laugh

3 gifts in working

1911. math problems that cause tears - conquered!

1912. seeing his joy

1913. going to bed exhausted

3 hard eucharisteos

1914. all those squabbles

1915. misunderstandings

1916. admitting i'm wrong

3 gifts behind a door

1917. dust bunnies cleaned up

1918. all those faces we love

1919. her smile when i walk in the door

3 ways you feel the love of God

1920. a sunlit-filled kitchen

1921. the love of my husband

1922. the happy face of a daisy

a gift in losing, finding and making something

1923. getting to try again

1924. words i had forgotten

1925.sharing bread

3 gifts in shadows

1926. his face in early morning

1927. an evening away

1928. candlelight on his face

3 gifts found giving/serving

1929. full tummies

1930. friendships deepened

1931. more love for my family poured in

3 gifts on paper

1932. an unexpected parcel

1933. love letter to zeruiah from cousins

1934. a journal filling

3 gifts that were "plan b's"

1935. here

1936. school in afternoon

1937. letting elias' hair keep growing

a gift at breakfast, lunch, dinner

1938. farm fresh eggs

1939. apple quesidillas

1940. baked pancakes

3 gifts white

1941. all that paper for her to draw on

1942. that tiny sleeper

1943. the softest blanket

3 gifts that changed today

1944. a drive in the country

1945. that book on prayer

1946. the hug of a friend

a gift of tin, glass, wood

1947. those peaches

1948. my morning mug of coffee

1949. him cutting down that tree

3 gifts before 11am

1950. the quiet nursing moments

1951. listening to him breathe in sleep

1952. all ready for church on time!

a gift worn out, new, made-do

1953. lyla's sneakers

1954. all those hand-me-downs

1955. that thrown together dinner (turned out pretty good!)

3 gifts seen as reflections

1956. smudges on windows

1957. them all in the rear-view mirror

1958. watching him play

3 ugly-beautiful gifts

1959. messy living room floor - kids live here!

1960. sick baby - extra snuggles

1961. hard stories - trust

3 gifts from the past - that help you trust the future

1962. our marriage vows

1963. each stage of a child - just a season that passes too quickly

1964. the road to here

3 gifts at 3pm

1965. tony taking a sad lyla on a quiet date

1966. a handful of tulip bulbs from a sweet neighbour

1967. a promise of a housefull of potential friends moving in next door this summer

3 gifts green

1968. the green in elias' eyes

1969. fresh cucumbers

1970. fun green pasta noodles

3 gifts wore

1971. sunshine on my head

1972. dirt from the flower beds on my knees

1973. tears for a friend halfway around the world

the story of a chair...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Fri, 1 Mar 2013 15:33:00 -0800

it's the story of a chair.

kind of.

it's cradled me in the cool mountain air,

held me in my excitement of that sparkly ring he placed on my finger,

became a bed when i was 5 months pregnant and so very sick.

supported me in those first few days of fresh grief.

rocked me in those dark nights while we waited to see where He was sending us, transplanting us in soil unfamiliar and strange...

his dad new i loved that chair,

knew that when i came, that's where i would plop myself and so in the last days before he wasn't anymore, i received a note in my inbox from a sister asking where i would like the chair to go that christmas. he wouldn't move it until i gave my final okay.

i haven't thought about that memory since i sat down to write...

sometimes our minds guard the most treasured memories close.

it was still in storage when i made the decision those 14 months ago - that decision to print out those cards and glue them down in that book and begin to memorize those words penned from some dark prison cell.

and when it did see daylight and was placed in our home, my discipline to memorize on schedule began to fade away on waves of nausea.

there is another father here, one who has opened his heart to us who are fatherless and at the beginning he listened every week, and then waited patiently while i would get my feet back under me and my mind would catch up to where i should be. my book is covered with his signature...

then little miss made her grand entrance and i missed the dead line of having the whole book memorized by the new year, but i determined, despite sleeplessness and hormones and the loss of all those brain cells, to finish.

they tell you, the experts, to put your babies on schedules and let them learn to sleep on their own, but i would pick up those pages during the afternoon quiet time that i have fingered over and over for the last passing year and then i would fill my arms with the newness of her and cradle us both in the chair his father knew i loved.

and i would rock to the rhythm of ancient words scribbled down and i would whisper them over her head. new life in my arms and His Life on my lips and i would pass those hours being changed little by little.

it was when those last words were said, the call to remember his chains and the final benediction...when what rested on her soft downy head was his blessing of grace, it was then that the tears came.

entwined in small and quiet ways are the gift of a father, the patience of a father and the Words of my Heavenly Father in that corner that old chair rests, and beth moore is right, "Never — NOT ONCE — have I ever known anyone to get to the end of a Scripture memory commitment and say that it didn’t make any real difference. Not a single time.”

so i start again with paul at pen, but on letters to the romans and we rock, her and i, to the rhythm of His mercy...

to know...{letters to my four}

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Tue, 19 Feb 2013 13:51:00 -0800

it all fell apart that canadian winter - you knew it deep down too. fractured something in us all like that -26 air did to those snapping metal posts buried quiet in the frozen snow.

it's been a long, slow thaw.

there are four of you now, but then, it was just the older three and there are times and moments i wish your minds were just as newborn-free as hers.

and yet, i think remembering the hard has maybe been the most freeing gift of all.

we dedicated zeruiah at the front of our church, the pastor held her in his arms and i became overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

he had asked us three simple questions and i almost fell apart. she only weighed a mere eight pounds and yet the weight of her very life...

my arms aren't strong enough for that.

nothing about me is strong enough for that.

she was only eighteen days old and suddenly the length of her life stretched out before me and how can the broken lead?

olivia, you sat down next to me in the warmth of a sunlit window, brought our your bible and asked me to read. you have your favorite stories - the ones we keep coming back to. there's adam and eve and that snake you love to hate. noah and the animals and that rain that fell for days on days and seemed as though it would never end. you love to hear how Jesus walked on water and how peter tried. the 5000 that were filled on the small amount of bread and fish and then you asked to hear another...

i turned to 1 kings - to one of your daddy's favorite stories. the one of elijah and the fire God sent from heaven. the one where he stood up against the false and faith watched flames lick up the last drop of water. you sat confused over the fact that there were some who didn't believe in God.

i thought back to what broke in the ice and the snow two years ago now.

there's still shards of that life still lying around us - sharp edges that still leave wounds. but what has busted isn't all bad - because what i had clung to for so many years was just as broken as me. my faith was in a god who i tried to shape in my own image...

and Jesus allowed it to break open, and in the long years since canada, He's taken this heart and opened it back up.

how can the broken lead?

i look at the four of you and become so scared of failure, scared of the world around us and the skeptics and false teachings and wonder how you will ever see Him in the middle of it all...

i can easily forget that He is the One Who does all the searching, He is the One Who draws you close.

but as your mama, He chose me to talk to you about Him, to teach you and to live out an example...

so we'll start here - at the beginning...

because that is Who He is.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

(John 1:1-5 ESV)

you need to know that before anything, God was. God spoke and it all came to be. you can trust this. you can trust that His life was given so that you can live.

so let's take it one step at a time in the coming days and months ahead.

but before we can move forward, we need to camp here and know, to your very marrow, that He. Is.

love,
mama

when it might be winter...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Wed, 6 Feb 2013 14:27:00 -0800

it's not having a newborn that is keeping this place quiet...no, it's my heart.

there's a lot going on in the quiet and deep places and if there really are seasons like i'm reading about, i think i might be knee deep in the dead of winter.

but not in a bad way,

just a quiet way.

and there's no way out without first going through...

and i'm okay with that.

she turned seven and then we opened our door for super bowl (and yes, this is probably random and the most awkward transition - i'm okay with that too.) and our home was filled once again with the loud and the laughter and the kids that we love so deeply.

but it wasn't until the next morning that i stood out on our front stoop to kiss him good bye that i noticed that board hung up by our front door.

i'm not going to pretend that i understand everything about tagging - i think i know that each tagger has his own name, his own symbol and if we look close enough now as we drive down those streets, i can point out who has done what where...

and before,

before this job, before these kids, graffiti to me was a messy, ugly, destruction of property - and in some cases, it is. in some cases, it is meant to be cruel, it is meant to destroy and bring down - but in some cases, the one behind that spray can is actually creating art.

i didn't know that until i began to know these kids.

i didn't know how beautiful it all could be until i began to see it through their eyes.

my house got tagged on sunday - in a small and not large way. it took me a minute to decipher it, but as i pointed it out to tony, i couldn't help but grin.

there is beauty in the messy.

i need to believe that right now...

because sometimes we can make a huge mess of things, take a big old spray can filled of whatever you want and make a big old ugly disaster of your life and nothing short of a miracle can ever clean it up.

at least, that's what it feels like,

that's what it can look like,

in the very dead of winter.

sometimes it can take a minute to decipher through everything you've scrambled up before you can see His Hand held open and ready to take your own and make something beautiful out of it.

and it's okay to take that minute. it's okay to move slow. it's okay to not rush through...

so i'm not.

i'm trying to be patient as i wait for Him, wait for His Hands to move.

and while i wait, i keep trying to give thanks...

3 startling graces of God
1827. a good, kind husband
1828. that i have carried 5 babies and held 4 in my arms
1829. the way He paints the sky the deepest rose and indigo

a gift worn, given away, shared
1830. elias' tears
1831. dinner from julie
1832. our date-night in (and all those m&m's!)

3 witnessed blessings
1833. lyla's growing confidence
1834. no post-partum depression this time around
1835. the way zeruiah is loved already by others

a gift bringing laughter, prayer, quiet
1836. liv's humor
1837. broken relationships
1838. everyone sleeping

3 gifts from God's Word
1839. startling conviction
1840. zacheriah and how obedience ='s an open, praising mouth
1841. that He offers tender mercy

3 gifts that might never have been
1842. lyla and livie
1843. him and me
1844. our friendships here

3 gifts only seen close up
1845. the mess on the table
1846. lyla's freckles (that she detests)
1847. the constant search for that binkie...

a gift in sky, water, memory
1848. a grey, dreary day
1849. 4 clean little ones
1850. how zeruiah keeps reminding me of the small, first moments with lyla

a gift wrinkled, smoothed, unfolded
1851. her hand clutching my neckline while she nurses
1852. a lunchtime invite from a dear friend
1853. the hard stories we are trusted to hear

3 gifts found in Christ
1854. strength for when i'm weary
1855. He gives wisdom for the searching
1856. secure salvation

3 things blue
1857. the way elias loves frozen blueberries
1858. z's blue-black eyes
1859. glimpses of the blue sky through all that grey

a grace borrowed, found, inherited
1860. those science books
1861. the way they remember
1862. that sense of humor they all seem to have

a gift before dawn, at noon, after dark
1863. 4 am snuggles
1864. full plates = full tummies
1865. an unexpected date night

3 gifts found in the kitchen
1866. that big ol' jar of peanut butter
1867. time in His Word at that old, old kitchen table
1868. homemade granola bars

3 graces found in friends
1869. quiet, thoughtful in-box notes
1870. coffee visits around my table with some apple-cider caramels thrown in
1871. new friends who feel gloriously old

a song heard, a soft word, light seen
1872. worn - because i was
1873. his morning whispers of love
1874. a sun break

3 old things seen new
1875. her 7 year old face
1876. her beautiful eyes
1877. the way her hands still curl when she sleeps

a gift on paper, in a person, in a picture
1878. z's dedication certificate
1879. a visit with a friend who keeps pointing me to Jesus
1880. that He provides what i need

3 gifts red
1881. lyla's flushed cheeks
1882. red chalk dust on my fingers
1883. zeruiah's lips

3 gifts on paper
1884. a pretty banner to celebrate - well worth the late night before
1885. words of love for lyla on a birthday card
1886. that her daddy wrapped all of her gifts

3 gifts found in writing
1887. my home that has been tagged
1888. my gramma's writing hung up on my fridge...gone 10 years and she still points me to His Word
1889. the way they write their names

when you turn seven...

noreply@blogger.com (kimberley) — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 15:17:00 -0800

i held your baby sister last night, snuggled her close and looked up at the moon.

she reminds me so much of you.

from her dark hair to her quiet personality; her big eyes that take everything in...

she takes me back to all of those firsts with you.

and i remember when you turning seven years old seemed so. very. far. away.

it still doesn't even seem possible...

i feel as though i'm still all the way back there, and i guess i am a bit, cradling a newborn close - maybe that's a bit why being here, seven years later feels so shocking.

i've said it before - that you were a gift unexpected...

conceived while i was still grieving the sudden loss of my first little one. i didn't even fathom that those lines would turn pink again so quickly.

you have changed my life - in so many good ways and opened my eyes to all the areas that still are in such desperate need of the tender healing touch of Jesus.

i write words to you every year on your birthday - words that i know you will read and understand someday, but as i write you today, the words typed down on this keyboard in front of me feel heavier somehow...you are no longer the little one cradled with one hand, the toddler running pell-mell in every direction, the preschooler trying to figure everything out...

you sat on the bathroom counter yesterday and watched me as i got ready - the words coming out of your mouth were deep and quiet and thoughtful. i had to pause and step back a bit - because the face that i cup in my hands holds a mind that is growing and maturing.

and yes, you are seven, but even at seven you have experienced such loss...

i watch you at the mission - how you search out the ones who are maybe a bit different, a little bit sad, have experienced losses of their own. and you stand by them, you run with them, you laugh deep belly laughs and draw out laughter of their own.

you are beautiful, sweet daughter of mine.

i sit back and watch you sit by your baby sister, the one 6 years and 28 days younger than you. i watch your hands that are so gentle as you slowly touch her cheek - content to be near her so that she knows she isn't alone...

you trust Jesus like that. your faith in Him is just as quiet - just a gentle - but it's sure. you know He is there, even if you don't always understand.

it feels a bit like trying to grasp at running water - time that seems to move so slowly at the very beginning is actually speeding by just as quickly and my heart still hasn't caught up to the fact that you are seven...

but no matter how fast or how slow or whatever rate time is really moving at - i'm thankful for each moment that He has given me to be your mama.

happy birthday, my lovely, darling lyla. you are so much more than i ever dreamed of.

i love you. always, always, always...

~mama