Gift

It was just last year when I read the book that changed my heart and mind toward noticing the beauty of the wonder in the mundane.

Oh how it has changed me.

One by one they come alive. Lovely , remarkable joy through the lens  of a new prescription.

Gifts, that’s what they are called. When Jesus took the bread and gave thanks for something as hard as death, murdered for doing nothing, these are the things I’ve learned.

So how do I miss it so often. How do my little vices, the problems which cause me to be anxiety prone or to lose my temper, how do they happen so fast? When none are my death. When none are my cross.

I lose sight of the precious and I bask in the misunderstandings and I forget what it means to be grateful.

And then the husband of mine holds me, and he sets my mind and my perceptions straight from the knots they were entangled. And so grace becomes real again and I remember what it all means and I pray that I don’t forget so quickly the next time. Because gratefulness gives Him glory and that’s what my life is meant to do. To see the gifts is to recognize that He is sovereign even when I don’t understand. And there is so much joy from a life lived this way. And oh what a beautiful dance that turns out to be.

 

The book I am referring to is One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp…

Today is Five Minute Friday, where I love to stop, drop and write for 5 minutes with The Gypsy Mama

 

 

Trust

Five Minute Friday: So it’s that time of the week where I join other women and The Gypsy Mama in writing my heart, unedited, unscripted. Just write for 5 minutes.

Todays topic:

Trust

He asks me to open my hands. To keep them that way. To not try to hold on again, grasping at what I love. He requires this. That this is how I live. Open-handed.

I wish that I could say I want to. But sometimes I don’t. I ask for Him to teach me, to guide me to show me, and He has. But He needs the creases of my hands to face upward. Empty.

Because when I ask for patience, we all know that’s not what He gives. Opportunity. That’s what this God is all about.

But the labor can take years, and there is no epidural sometimes.

To trust Him with our growing pains? Isn’t that what He desires? That resolution doesn’t need to come, and the peace that passes understanding should do just that. I wish I could welcome peace without the need to understand. 

So I try to take the hands from my pockets, and I try to pry each finger from the fist.

But it always goes back.

I say I trust Him. But do I? Do I give Him all of me? Every time?

Oh how I want to…

Tender

So I’m writing to you here, from my sofa, as a girl in slow motion, praying for her coffee to kick in. The week has caught up with me, and I’m not sure what to do, because for me, the week is far from over….

So I will try to keep my disciplines and I will start by writing today, even if the thoughts are running slower than ever.

Today is Five Minute Friday, where The Gypsy Mama invites us to stop, drop, and write for 5 minutes without over-thinking or editing or backtracking. Today, this could be interesting :).

So here it goes:

Tender

Sometimes life causes us to callous. It causes us to crack and bruise and grow hard shells. It causes us to build walls triple our size and manufacture sentences so when people ask the “how are you” questions, we don’t really have to tell. There are events that can change us, that when paired next to the grand, beautiful moments of life, these hard ones take more stalk in our spirit. Why is that? Why is it that I look at the lovely parts of life and they matter, but the hard ones make weight? Why is it that when my dreams take over in the middle of the night, the regrets play out again and again, not the cherished moments that I wish I could relive? Why is it that the vulnerable, bruised parts of my soul, need protection and covered, so that I don’t feel I will break at any moment?

And he sees this, the man I have committed my life to. I’m not sure he realizes, but he’s the one who gets the brunt of it. The defensive mechanisms, the angry reactions, the parts of me that don’t want to let him all in. But it’s not because of him. He is wonderful and he loves me, and I don’t tell him enough. I blame him for not fighting for me, for not breaking down my walls, for not trying to be my hero. But how can he when I just build more? How can he when he doesn’t know they are there?

And it’s not his job to do these things, it’s his job to love and its my job to nurture and if I’m waiting around for him to do his part then I never get to doing mine.

And so I must open, I must grow. I must crack and show these bruises, these heartaches, so that we can live life, so that we can live whole.

I must learn tenderness, and I must overcome my defenses. I must grow softer, and more gentle, because in that I will find fulfillment and in that he will rise up. These are the hard parts. These are the parts they don’t tell you.

Oh tenderness, rise up in me. I want to learn what this grace means.

Roar

Today is Friday. Today is the day where The Gypsy Mama challenges us to write for 5 minutes without over thinking or editing. Today’s word: Roar.

There is a sense in me that all the waiting, all the praying, all of the searching, it’s leading to something. And I don’t want to jump, and I don’t want to move, because I’m so afraid that it is me getting ahead of myself. I want to  follow, I want God to lead, and yes, I want him to lead me gently, and pleasantly, and orderly. But right now, I’m sensing in myself, that He is not going to do any of those things. When His timing is right I believe He is going to show me loud and clear, with the roar of a lion, and all I can do is brace myself, prepare myself, for what that might mean. The part I am asking for, is that the call, the dream, the question is so loud, so audible, that we just can’t miss it, we can’t mistaken His voice for anyone else and we can’t mistaken anyone else’s voice for His.

Just like He spoke a whisper and all of the earth was formed, and everything we know as constant was made. And I know I can trust Him, I know I will follow, but sometimes it is the whisper I desire, and the roar I fear.

Open

Today is a day where thegypsymama.com challenges fellow bloggers to write about a topic for 5 minutes, no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking. Please join us in this experience.

Today’s topic: Open

In this place, right here, I am making a vow. It is not one that I know I will keep in all of the dailiness, in the everyday, but I will vow to remind myself of the vow I will make.

I stand here, and I commit to openness. The kind where I am willing to trust, to walk, to move in the sun. The kind where my home is love and joy, and my husband knows my heart and my soul, not just my to-do’s and my desires. The kind of openness that is undeniable, beautiful, approachable, is how I want to be. Open on my knees, to the wait, to the call, to the heart of Christ that is beckoning me. Open to lose myself, to die to this woman and find that it is better than any other decision I could make.

Open to love, open to friendship, open to ideas, to places, to hearts that are different from mine. There is something to learn and I am going to find it, seek it, search it.

Openness requires me to live in freedom, gratefulness, hope, and I will vow to remind myself of these things, even when being stubborn or difficult seems preferable.

I will be changing, and I will be glad, and I will be open to who I will become. And this river of openness will hopefully allow me to love, in all the best ways, and will sweep me away in a current of beauty that I just can’t get enough of.

Beyond

A blog I follow challenges a five minute writing prompt, with no editing, no rechecking. Just stop, drop, and write for five minutes and then see what happens. So I tried it, and here’s what I came up with. The theme this week was “Beyond.”

I want to look at a view beyond what we are so accustomed to. Beyond cynicism, beyond materialism, beyond sterotype. We need to view beyond the mask, like Jesus. Beyond the façade of the fake to the dry bones of brokenness. We need to move beyond small talk, to move to beyond acquaintance. We need to not be okay with Jesus on Sundays, but work to follow him beyond anything we have ever known. He will take us, and we will reach Him, if we go beyond what we know now. To the dust. Beyond beauty and find our ashes. Beyond our stature and find our knees. Beyond image and knowledge and class and find our home in the heavens, but our place in the world. Beyond what we see, what we hear, what our thoughts say, or our instinct. We need to serve beyond what our capacity tells us we should. Beyond what makes sense. Beyond what seems practical, logical and move toward radical, beautiful, illogical love.