Apparently I was the last shepherd in the hills to get the memo.

Bethlehem means “house of bread” in Hebrew.

I’ve been pondering this new to me news for the better part of a week now with no apparent diminished delight. Suspecting my newfound factoid of Jesus’ birthplace was taught in that single sermon I must have slept through, I posed the question to my peeps in the village and surrounding virtual metropolitian areas of twitter and Facebook.

The good news (aside from the divinely obvious) is that I might only be the second to last shepherd in the hills to learn that Jesus, the Bread of Life, was born in the House of Bread. So what does a newly educated shepherd do with such precious news? She goes and tells it on the mountain, of course. And then she bakes a delicious Bethlehem Bread (click for recipe) with her Little Shepherds in Training. I am aware that deeming our recipe Bethlehem Bread is as redundant as pannini sandwich, but we are humble shepherds, and after all, it is what it is.

What it is, to me, is a glorious glimmer of sparkling detail that the Author of Life chose to pen in His great love story for us. That with the stroke of His inerrant ink and quill gave life to the words Beth meaning house and Lehem bread. Then the Author unfolds the drama of the nativity in this sacred place Bethlehem, as Emmanuel – God with Us, fully divine and fully human, is born unto Mary, wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. And while I’m wearing the robe of astonished shepherd, manger is the French verb meaning “to eat.” Which points my simple mind straight to the breaking of the bread at the Last Supper, bringing the salvation story full circle.

As the season of Advent inches closer to Christmastime, this precious time of waiting and wondering, at once looking back and hoping forward, never ceases to astonish. In the stillness of the anticipation, I reflect on the truth that our hopes and fears of all the years were met when the Bread of Life was born to us in the little town of Bethlehem.

Come thou long expected Jesus!

Merry Christmas, friends.

Love,

Do you know the history of St. Lucia? A traditional Advent custom in Sweden, St. Lucia Day is celebrated on December 13th to honor the young Italian saint known as the “Queen of Light.” How the Swedish people came to celebrate an Italian saint is quite a story, one our family has enjoyed learning about this Advent season.

St. Lucia (pronounced Lu-chée-a in Italian and Lu-sée-a in Swedish) was born in Sicily, an island of the coast of Italy, in the third century A.D. During this time, Sicily was part of the Roman Empire and it was against the law to be a Christian. St. Lucia’s father was a wealthy nobleman, but sadly died when Lucia was a baby. Her mother raised Lucia as a Christian, despite the fear of persecution for their faith.

When it came time for Lucia to be married, the young girl was deeply saddened. She loved God with all her heart and wanted to dedicate herself to God alone and His service. But, arrangements were made for her to marry a pagan man. Lucia begged her mother not to force her into this arranged marriage but to give her dowry away to the poor instead. Her mother gave her permission, but her fiancé was furious that his bride-to-be would give away her dowry, their inheritance, to the poor. He was so enraged that he denounced her to the governor thereby revealing that she was a Christian.

Governor Paschasius had Lucia arrested and brought before him. Refusing to denounce her faith, Lucia proclaimed that she had given everything she owned as a sacrifice to Jesus Christ. Steadfastly clinging to her faith, Lucia was martyred on December 13, 304.

The name Lucy or Lucia means “light.” She is called the “Queen of Light” because she was willing to give up her life to honor Christ. Lucia boldly held high the light of Christ during a time in history that was indeed very dark.

Maybe you are wondering, as we were, how Italian St. Lucia came to be an Advent tradition in Sweden. The Swedes love St. Lucia because she saved their country from a terrible famine. During the Middle Ages, the people of Sweden were starving. One night, on the darkest night of winter, a boat approached the shores of Sweden. At the head of the ship stood a beautiful maiden dressed all in white and glowing with light. When the boat reached the land, it was filled with huge sacks of wheat, enough to provide more than enough bread for everyone to eat all winter long. The Swedish people attributed the provision and the return of the light to the Italian St. Lucia, whom they knew provided for the poor.

In Sweden, on December 13th, the oldest daughter in the family portrays St. Lucia. Dressed in white and wearing a crown of lighted candles, she awakens the rest of the family by serving a tray of freshly baked Lucia buns to her parents and siblings in bed! St. Lucia reminds us, in the middle of Advent, that Christ is indeed the Light of the World, whose birthday we are preparing to celebrate. St. Lucia is remembered as the bride of Christ, martyred for her faith and desire to serve only Him.

The eldest girl Little and I had high hopes of beginning the tradition of St. Lucia this morning. We’ve read several books and even picked a recipe to bake Lucia Buns to serve this morning to the rest of the family. I’ve written about how our plans went awry and shared our intended recipe at The Schell Cafe today. I hope you’ll read a rather amusing account of our first St. Lucia Day. Regardless of how, or even if, you celebrate St. Lucia Day, there is an important lesson for us to learn from this honored saint. Like St. Lucia, we are also called to be a light in a dark world.

Shine, friends, shine!

For once you were full of darkness, but now you have light from the Lord.

So live as people of light! For this light within you produces only what is good and right and true.

Ephesians 5:8-9 (NLT)

Love,

Muchness. It’s been on my  heart for a while and always seems to dominate my thoughts this time of the year. We have so much. So much for which to be thankful. And, yet the month of December certainly makes it difficult to focus our attention on the giver of all our provision and gifts. Isn’t this ironic? The month in which we remember the birth of our Lord and Savior, a time designated to turn our hearts in eager anticipation of his coming, then and in the age to come, is full of so many distractions that the burden becomes not to miss the season entirely.

How do you keep your eyes fixed on the eternal gift of the season? How do you quiet your heart to receive the blessing of the Messiah? How do you sit still before the King of Kings and Lord of Lords in his presence when the world pulls us in a thousand and one directions?

I wish I had the answers. I’m truly asking! For several years, I’ve struggled with trying to find peace and balance in the Advent and Christmas seasons. Slowly (and by slowly I mean a painful snail-pace-not-in-my-expected-time-frame slow) I feel the Lord teaching and showing me ways to bring our family into sacred moments of holiness. I thought I’d share two simple ways we have found ourselves delighting in the Lord’s presence and focusing our attention on him this year. Both of these examples I’m sharing with you today came in very unexpected and delightful ways, which is important to recognized. I did NOT create these events! I did not bake a casserole, or spend days stuck in a glue-gun war trying to craft these moments. The Lord answered my prayers and showed up in these seemingly simple, yet profound ways.

I bought Jotham’s Journey last year. I truthfully do not remember which one of my fabulous blogging friends recommended the book, but I was delighted when it arrived on my doorstep last year. Only I found out about it too late for Advent. I kicked the dirt a little and grumbled that I didn’t know about this book sooner. In fact, I feel a bit sheepish telling you about this book on the 9th day of December, putting you in the same predicament that I was in last year. A day late and a nickel short. I promise you’ll forgive me next year when you pull Jotham’s Journey off your shelf and begin the Advent story with your Littles.

The fact that our family is so engaged in Jotham’s Journey is a Christmas miracle in and of itself. You see, we are not a sit around the living room after supper, light a candle, pray and read scripture together kind of a family. We just aren’t. I fantasize that we would share this kind of Sabbath time together, but if I ever said, “Honey, kids! Come on down and let’s pray and read scripture together!” my family would head for the hills. It would just be too contrived for our family. Too forced. How do I know?

I’ve tried. And failed.

But, knowing the Lord desires these types of moments for his families, I prayed that he would just go ahead and take care of the inviting, the wooing, and the bringing of our family to these moments. Because my track record surely reveals a losing streak at orchestrating such events.

Lo and behold, He did it. For two weeks now, we’ve cozied up in the living room and read the daily story of ten year old Jotham and his hair-raising, nail-biting, jackal and thief threatening journey. On about the third night, I noticed the miracle. The Littles were passing the book around to read the daily scriptures and they were arguing over who was going to blow out the candle (emphasis on the lit candle, please, not so much the arguing). Way to go God!

The second resource is precious and meets the needs I’ve prayed for Littlest who, as you may recall, is very four. Santa is not a big deal in our house. He never has been. Santa comes, but we’ve always downplayed his existence and gratefully our pre-school teaches about St. Nicholas, so we tend to focus more on the real-life saint and his gifts to the needy and the poor. When the older three Littles were really young, someone told me they gave three gifts to each of their children at Christmas, modeling the three gifts the Magi gave to the Christ child. We’ve held true to this tradition and it really helps curb the chaos and muchness on Christmas morning. Sort of. If you overlook the year I couldn’t adhere to the three gift rule and so I stuffed a ton of smaller gifts inside a big box praying that would technically count as one gift.

Back to Littlest and a great resource for younger children. From the creator of VeggieTales comes a new and exciting movie called What’s in the Bible? I was given a copy of the movie at The Relevant Conference and Littlest loves it. You can imagine how excited and grateful I was when I learned about the Christmas video Why Do We Call it Christmas? I’ve ordered the movie, but what we are most excited about is the free video series on the What’s in the Bible? website called  The 12 Questions of Christmas with Clive & Ian. Clive and Ian are goofy characters we have fallen smitten over since discovering this series. Ian has lots of questions for his brother Clive about Christmas. In these twelve short clips, designed to be watched over a period of twelve days, Ian asks Clive questions such as, “Was Jesus born on Christmas Day?” and “What does Santa Claus have to do with Jesus’ birthday?” I intended to show Littlest one clip each day for twelve days, but she insisted we watch them all at once. I asked her if she would like to watch them all again, one each day for 12 days, so we could talk about each one. She replied, “only if I get to sit in your lap.” So beginning next week, Littlest and I will take a few minutes out of our day to hear what Ian and Clive have to say about Christmas.

We have other traditions that help us focus our attention on Jesus during this special time of year. Some have stuck, some have been replaced as the Littles mature and their relationships deepen with the Lord. What are your family traditions that keep your hearts centered on Christ? I’d love to know and hope you’ll share.

Love,

Just another Tuesday ’round The Schell Cafe. NOT.

I just finished taping a radio interview with Charles Morris at Haven Today. I was asked to share my personal journey through The Bible in 90 Days which led to a church-wide program at Covenant Presbyterian Church.

Because I’m always more interested in knowing what goes on behind-the-scenes I thought I’d share a glimpse into my morning. You know, the real story.

See how organized and uncharacteristically clean my desk looks? I thought it was important to have an uncluttered space for the interview. Yes, I realize it was a radio interview and no one could actually see my desk. Or the fact that I was in workout clothes with my funky old glasses on. I prepared a nice cup of hot tea to soothe my voice and make it all radio-y, and jotted a few notes to jog my memory in the event that I got stuck. For the record, these notes of important facts to remember included my name, the ages of the four Littles, and the name of my blog.

I was ready.

Until Adrian, the amazingly patient producer, called to get the microphone set up and walk me through the logistics of the interview. He sensed a draft in the room and asked if there was a smaller room, preferably with carpet and perhaps bookshelves, where I might relocate for the interview. Just like that, my clean, uncluttered, sweet and peaceful space got uprooted for Husband’s office. I laughed all the way upstairs, juggling the fancy microphone and recorder system. So it was in Husband’s domain that I taped my first national radio interview.

I forgot my tea, so I’m fairly certain my voice was not smooth and radio-y. In fact, I’m not sure of anything I actually said in our 30 minute conversation. I do remember thinking I was going to throw-up when Charles asked me if I would pray for the listeners. Me? Pray? On national radio? I’m a writer. I use the ‘delete’ and ‘backspace’ button more frequently than the alphabet keys. I love being able to re-write, re-do, and re-change-my-mind before I share.  There ain’t no ‘delete’ button for praying on national radio. So, I did what I always do when I realize I’m in over-my-head. I prayed and let the Lord carry me. And, because the Lord is gracious, He also removed most of my short-term memory of the interview (and my pride!) so I would not be able to sit and stew over what I said or what I wish I had said.

If you are curious to know what I said in my interview with Charles Morris, you’ll have to wait until January 2, 2012. As will I. In the meantime, check out the Haven Today website. I have enjoyed listening to many of the archived interviews of some of my favorite voices – Ann Voskamp, Max Lucado, and John Piper, just to name a few. You can also check to see when Haven Today airs in your local market. I’m truly encouraged and impressed with this amazing ministry.

Now you know it’s coming next…

My prayer and encouragement for you is to read God’s Word with The Bible in 90 Days. If you are in Austin, you can join The Bible in 90 Days at University Christian Church beginning January 8, 2012. Contact Alice and Paul Hansen at aliceandpaul@austin(dot)rr(dot)com or visit the University Christian Church website for more information. If you don’t live in the village, hook up on-line with my friend Amy Gross at Mom’s Toolbox to read through the Bible in 90 Days. Amy has some exciting new ways to read through the Bible in 2012 – you can participate on-line or even host your own small group. And, finally take some time to read about the amazing ministry Ted Cooper founded at the Bible in 90 Days website.

This is the time of year when we take time to reflect on our lives and even consider adjusting our priorities. I cannot think of a better way to begin the new year than to spend the first ninety days of 2012 engaged in God’s Word.

I’m pretty sure I did NOT say that on national radio. I think I said something more eloquent like, “just do it!”  Deep, huh?

Mark your calendars for January 2nd. I hope you’ll tune in to Haven Today to listen to my interview. More importantly, I hope you’ll prayerfully consider reading the Bible in the new year.

Love,

Have you ever had one of those mornings? Of course you have…

Yesterday started out as one of those mornings. Not initially for me, but for one of the Littles.

I’m still not adjusted to the hour time change and have been waking up in the 4′s. Even for an early riser, 4:00 am is way too early. But, so it goes. After finishing my Bible study lesson and prayer time, I puttered around the sleeping house and remembered a bag of candles stashed in the laundry room closet. A month or so ago, the Littles and I used a coupon at Yankee Candle to buy several fall candles to give as gifts. I was feeling quite grateful that I actually remembered this purchase and pulled out candles for the girls to give to their teachers.

At some point during the morning madness one of the Littles grabbed the lid off the candle intended for her teacher and the whole thing snapped and shattered. She was crushed and immediately spiraled into tears and sorries. Which, of course, broke my heart. First, the break of the Yankee Candle jar was a fluke. She didn’t drop it, throw it, or in any way intentionally or unintentionally break the candle. I’m truly not sure how it actually cracked. Second, the shards of glass broke my Little’s spirit.

Luckily, we had a candle to spare. I reassured my tender hearted Little that her teacher would love this candle, maybe even more than the first. We wiped tears, swept up slivers of glass and headed out the door for school. Which was also a comedy of errors. Half way en route, another Little remembered a book left on the shelf back home. We took one for the team, returned home, then traveled in a brisk manner (but not speeding!) back for a 7:40 am drop off with book and candles in tow.

As the candle bearing Little made her way out of the swagger wagon, it happened. I heard it first and my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. She dropped the second candle. As God would have it, her teacher was at carpool drop off and I was able to share with her that this was actually our second broken candle of the morning. In a grace-filled moment we all assured my sweet Little that all was well and not to think another thought about the broken candle. We forced a laugh and I mused something about how our light was clearly not meant to shine in the form of a broken Yankee Candle. And as God would also have it, He immediately corrected me with the reminder that is exactly how He meant for our light to shine. From our brokenness.

We are all broken vessels. Imperfect pieces and fragments made right by the redeeming grace of our Savior who is the light of the world. Jesus meets us in our brokenness, it’s why He came. It’s in these broken, imperfect pieces of our lives that He is strong and the light of His glory can shine.

Last night, after talking through the lessons we learned, my Little decided to go ahead and give the broken candle to her teacher anyway. Her teacher will understand. In fact, I have a hunch the candle will mean more to her broken today than it would have perfect yesterday.

Did you know the Yankee Candle Company names its candles? The name of the first candle that broke yesterday was Be Thankful. The second? The Harvest. Whatever its name and regardless of its condition, carry your candle and hold it out for all to see.

Take your candle and go light your world.

Love,

Me! In an Operation Christmas Child shoe box at The Relevant Conference, November 2011

Don’t refresh your screen. That is, indeed, me in a box. An Operation Christmas Child shoe box!

And guess what? It’s National Collection Week (November 14 – 21). Have y’all packed Operation Christmas Child shoe boxes yet? Follow these simple instructions and be sure to sign up to track your box so you can follow your gifts around the globe and into the hands of a very grateful child. Operation Christmas Child has delivered shoe box gifts in over 130 countries and has reached millions of hurting and impoverished children with the message of the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Grab a shoe box (or more!) take your favorite Littles or grand Littles on a tiny shopping spree and send love and hope to child who will cherish every treasure you pack in your Operation Christmas Child shoe box. Click on the link for detailed instructions on how to pack your shoe box:

We are still putting the finishing touches on our boxes. The Littles picked special treats for our children including toothbrushes, toothpaste, hair brushes and bright colored pony tail holders for the girls, a small Lego set for the boy, crayons, pencils, balls, small dolls, Starbursts, cards, stickers and other small goodies. Hands down the most fun was filling out the All About Me pages to include in our box. Be sure to print these pages and have your Littles spend time introducing themselves. We attached our most recent school pictures and included our address in hopes that we’ll hear from our new friends.

See the Littles in action? I took this yesterday morning as we made last minute additions and finished up our All About Me pages. The Littles will take their boxes to school on Thursday and present them in chapel as part of a school-wide collection. There are hundreds of drop off locations for your boxes or you can mail them directly to Operation Christmas Child at the address on the How to Pack a Shoe Box link.

Will you join us? You don’t have to go as far as I did and actually wear a box. Just pack one with love and send it to the far corners of the world.

Love,

I’m interrupting my road map stories My Life is Gospel with breaking news.

In exactly two days, I will be headed to The Relevant ’11 Conference in Hershey, PA. I’ve been looking forward to attending this blogging conference for two years. I chickened out last year and regretted not attending. So when tickets went on sale at midnight on March 1st last spring, I clicked “REGISTER” and by 12:01 AM was ready to go.

My blogging friends Brooke and Erin are hosting a fun pre-party link-up. I’m joining in on the fun by sharing 10 things my Relevant roommates should know about me. I have two roommates – my sweet friend Erin, of Closing Time, and Logan of Life for Dessert. Erin is the talented web designer who brought The Schell Cafe and Kitchen Mission to life last year. We’ve been friends ever since. Erin and Logan are IRL (in real life) buddies and I’m grateful they are adding me to the mix. Can you imagine my delight to know Logan, too? How can you not love someone who writes a blog called Life for Dessert. Seriously?

I have never met either of my roommates, which according to the Littles is weird. I reassured my four weirded-out offspring it was like camp and reminded them that they don’t always know their bunkmates. Their response? “Face it, mom, you don’t know anyone.”

So this morning I put the question out to the Littles, “OK. If y’all are so weirded out that I don’t know my roommates, what should I tell them about me?”

Silence.

“Come on guys, what should Erin and Logan know about me before Thursday?”

First response? Not so encouraging. “Mom, you are a little embarrassing.”

I am shocked. “Embarrassing? Really? Like how?”

“Well, you know how you sing in the car? It’s really embarrassing.”

“I thought you liked my music. Sometimes I listen to Taylor Swift.”

“Taylor Swift rocks. But, mom, you just can’t sing along with her. Especially in carpool.”

Dear roomies, here is the list of things you should know about me straight out of the mouths of my four precious Littles:

1) I am embarrassing. Especially when I sing in the car or the ‘worstest song ever’ Midnight Train to Georgia.

2) I like to make kids clean. Clearly they view picking up their rooms and loading the dishwasher as pure torture. Please do not hold it against me.

3) I don’t watch TV. This fact astonishes the Littles and propels me further into weirddom. But, we all know a screen is a screen and clearly I have an obsession with my iPhone and laptop.

4) I am not a good bike rider. Pure truth.

5) I’m getting grey in my hair. On a positive note, they were quick to recognize that I do have someone that helps me with that problem.

At this point I interjected and asked if there was anything, ANYTHING, positive they would like my roomies to know about me. ME, their mother. I reminded them that airfare, tickets and room reservations were non-refundable and that we might want to give Erin and Logan a slight bit of hope.

6) I love Jesus. Finally! My four Littles see something good in me. But, my dear roommies already know this about me. So, I prod for more.

7) I am a good cook. They all nod in agreement and Littlest says, “Yes, Mommy, you are a good cheffy.” Which rhymes with Chevy and every time I hear her call me cheffy I can’t help but laugh at the near comparison to a truck.

8 I want to adopt children from Africa. My sweet Littles DO listen. I recently re-told them the entire story of Kisses from Katie and they held on to every word of the story.

9) I am a good comforter.

10) I like to go to bed early.

There you have it, friends. Straight out of the mouths of my babes. I will try my hardest not to embarrass you this weekend, but I cannot promise that I won’t be forced to break into my best Gladys Knight rendition of Midnight Train to Georgia.

I can’t wait to meet you and everyone else at Relevant ’11 on Thursday!

Love,

{In case you are new, or haven’t stopped by The Kitchen Mission in a while, I’m sharing part of my story that came from an exercise called My Life is Gospel. Feel free to read the introduction and back story, or just dive in! If you haven’t subscribed yet, you can receive The Kitchen Mission via email by filling out the subscription box on the right. And, of course, The Kitchen Mission is on Facebook. Welcome, friends! I’m glad you are here.}

{In case you are new, or haven’t stopped by The Kitchen Mission in a while, I’m sharing part of my story that came from an exercise called My Life is Gospel. Feel free to read the introduction and back story, or just dive in! If you haven’t subscribed yet, you can receive The Kitchen Mission via email by filling out the subscription box on the right. And, of course, The Kitchen Mission is on Facebook. Welcome, friends! I’m glad you are here.}

Me. About the age this story took place

Do you remember the first time you encountered God? I happened to be about eight or nine years old.

Directly across the street from Preston Hollow Elementary School, exactly seven blocks and three major break-your-mother’s-back cracks up the road from the green bedroom I shared with my baby sister, is the Methodist Church we attended when I was young. In this place we worshipped on Sundays, I first encountered God. But, it wasn’t exactly how you might suppose.

Wax covered fingers from acolyte candles, the arrival of a new tapestry for the sanctuary, a time capsule to be opened at the new millennium and sugar glazed covered donuts are memories of childhood church. But, my first encounter with God wasn’t warm and fuzzy.

Somewhere in or about the second or third grade, our Sunday School class gathered expectantly for a game. Our teacher placed two packages on a table and called for volunteers. I soared up out of my seat, dying to be picked despite the fact I had no idea what would be asked of me. All I knew was the shiny gold box on the table was MINE. The teacher couldn’t have missed how perfect a subject I was for the lesson du jour. And, so I was picked. I have absolutely no recollection of the Bible story associated with the activity, but here’s how the lesson went down in my book.

Two of us were picked that day. I don’t remember the boy’s name who stood beside me waiting for the teacher to finally let us open the shiny, gold box. In fact, I wasn’t listening at all, until she said something like, “Kristin, there are two boxes on this table. Choose carefully, you may pick just one.” My hands grabbed the shiny, gold box (did I mention it had a BIG bow on it?) so fast, I hardly noticed there was a tiny box wrapped in newspaper sitting on the table. The boy quietly picked up the ugly box. My moment of glory was short lived. As I heard the words, “open…” the bow and shiny gold wrapping paper fell to the ground, discarded in anticipation of what greatness was sure to be nestled inside the perfect box. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where this story is headed. Inside my  beautiful box were three Saltine crackers. Inside the ugly box? Three Oreo cookies.

Do you know what my immediate response was? I lied. A Big Fat Ugly Lie. As quickly as I had torn through the coveted gold paper, the lie flew out of my mouth, “Oh, good! I got crackers. I hate Oreo cookies!”

Seriously? Hate Oreo cookies? The only person in the room I was fooling that day was me. And, it sucked. I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t want to lie. But, the thought of being wrong, of admitting I had made the wrong choice, caused my tiny, young self to hide. I put up a wall, a facade to prove to the class, my teacher, the boy with the cookies, and even myself that I was happy, in fact glad that I had, as if on purpose, chosen the Saltine crackers. The irony here is rich, friends. Nothing against Saltines, but I am totally a Ritz Cracker girl.

My inner eight, maybe nine year old self got the ‘you can’t judge a book by the cover’ lesson. But, this forty-three year old self sees the story with a bit of perspective.

It would be years, two decades to be exact, before I realized I was not the first child of God to choose poorly. The Oreo was my apple, when I first hid in shame and let pride rule with a lie. Now, before you think I need to seek psychotherapy over the whole Oreos = the sin of pride thing, rest assured I’m ok with this event. In fact, I’m grateful for it. On that day, the day I tried so hard to hide, God showed up. He met me in my dark, hiding place. He didn’t talk to me or give me a grand vision, but I felt His presence. As far away as I tried to run that day, He was present.

And that was how I first met God. It’s not a grand story and I, myself, didn’t recognize it for years. He came to me, when I was busy being mad and hiding in the consequence of making a bad choice. He didn’t yell, or punish me. Nor did He fix my situation or give me an easy way out. In fact, He let me wrestle with my choice for several days. It was as if He installed a moral compass in my soul. Mostly, He simply let me know He was present. And on that day a seed was planted. I had no idea as I wrestled with not getting an Oreo, that a far greater gift awaited me…

Love,

I promised to reveal my road map from our activity My Life is Gospel so without further ado…

Voilà. I am no artist, but this picture does tell quite a story. What about you? Did you take time to create your own road map answering the questions and playing cartographer? Click here to find the instructions so you can join us.

Oscar Romero (1917 – 1980), martyred El Salvadorian archbishop wrote, “It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view. The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts: it is beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is the Lord’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.”

I love the imagery of taking the long view. Perhaps because that is where the Lord placed me in my wilderness experience this summer. For days, 68 days to be exact, I was in deep waters reading the Old Testament. Wrestling with the stories of a people and of a nation that just didn’t get it. Story after story, generation after generation God’s people struggling in disobedience and disregard for their need and dependency of the Lord. Trying to go at it alone, the Old Testament reveals stories of hardship and discontent, setting the stage for the coming of a Savior. Yet throughout every story, indeed every word, of scripture God is faithful to His people — even in the unimaginable struggles the Lord never forsakes His people. “Return to me,” is the Lord’s plea. And our merciful and gracious God is relentless in His pursuit of His people. Then, and now.

It’s easy to read stories thousands of years old and fail to see the relevance in our modern lives. To see that God is still relentlessly pursuing each of us into relationship with Him. Wooing us, daily, in ways that only by His grace we hear His timeless plea, “Return to me.”  On this side of the cross, we know that the only way to the Father is through the Son, who also calls, “Come to me.”

Maybe you hear it? The soft whisper or nudge spoken through a friend or a song? Maybe you’ve heard His plea in a time of utter discouragement and hardship? Maybe there were times on your roadmap where God was so silent you convinced yourself He wasn’t even there? Maybe there have been times of such joy and gratefulness you can’t conceive the source was anything but Divine.

I’ve made pitstops in everyone of those places and I’ll share them with you in upcoming posts. Like the people and stories in the Old Testament, I  had a life BC. BC = Before Christ. My road map reveals the places where God was pursuing me, wooing me, faithfully providing for me even when I didn’t attribute any of it to Him. My road map reminds me of the place I accepted Christ and chose to live life on this side of the cross, free from the past and expectant of life everlasting that is the promise of His death and resurrection. My road map tells me where I still struggle to live in faith. And my road map gives me hope by remembering the places of great joy.

Why am I doing this? Trust me, I’m not super excited about sharing some of these pitstops.  And, it’s certainly not because I think my life is all that interesting. But, come on, aren’t you just a little curious to know what the bathing suit – sin – hell pit stop is all about? I’m sharing because maybe in my stories, you’ll see something new in yours. These stories are not about Kristin. They are all about God. A God who cared enough about an ordinary girl, to transform her life, not because of anything she did or continues to do, but solely for His purpose and His glory.

If that’s not good news, friends, I don’t know what is.

So, finish up your road map! You never know when you might need it. And, I’ll be back soon to tell you about that poorly illustrated gift box on my road map. Just to tease you a little, it involves God. And Oreos.

Love,