(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

When You Need To Feel The Pain

May 24, 2012 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray

Sometimes, the pain we have worked so hard to avoid is the one thing that leads us to where God calls us to go.  Sometimes, feeling our need is the greatest work of faith we can surrender to.


I woke up like any other day.

But, when I got up from my bed, a sharp pain shot through my ankle. My leg jerked and my step crumpled. I couldn't walk.

What was going on?

I hadn't done anything strenuous. Hadn't hurt it.

Or did I?

I Didn't Feel
Two months ago, it was a rainy spring Saturday morning. I wanted to give Hubby the morning off for some alone time, so I took the boys to get their energy out — by going to Sky High — an indoor trampoline gym.

The entire warehouse was practically wall to wall trampoline. I was stoked. I jumped higher and higher, laughing as hair and body shot weightlessly up through the air.

Until I landed on my right ankle. And laid writhing in pain.

That night, my ankle swelled up. But, I didn't think much of it.

It's not the first time I've sprained my ankle.  The doctors have always said the same thing.

Take ibuprofen. Put your feet up. Ice it.

Stay off of it — take it easy.

So, that's what I did.

I knew it was injured pretty badly, since it was swollen on both sides of my ankle. Especially when it turned black and blue in the days after. But, life was already busy and stressful enough, running the daily treadmill of life, taking care of my three year old toddler and six year old kindergartner.

So, I didn't think I needed to go to the doctors.

I didn't feel I had any need.

Deep Inside
My inability to feel my need landed me at the doctor's office last week, pain pulsing through my ankle.

As I sat there with my feet bare, waiting for the diagnosis, a bewildered podiatrist sitting on his spinning chair asked me, "Why didn't you come in sooner?".

"Huh?"

"Bonnie, you have a broken bone."

"What?"

"Yep. You did a good job breaking your foot, " Dr. Podiatrist sighed as he pointed out the break on the film of my x-ray.

The doctor said I would need to have an MRI. We have to investigate what is going on inside. You see, all the signs of trauma my foot experienced has already left. There is no black or blue to show blood draining. No redness or intense swelling left to observe the extent of the injury.

From all appearances on the outside, my foot was fine.

But, it wasn't. Something was broken. Deep inside, there was pain.

My Need
I drove home, feeling ashamed for not going to the doctor earlier, beating myself up for allowing my foot to get worse. As I added insult to self-injury mixing in a good dose of regret on shoulda-woulda-coulda, I had an epiphany.

Bonnie, you have such a high tolerance for pain.

You didn't even know you had a need.

A real need.

A bone actually broke and here I was – so high functioning — so good at taking care of everything and everyone, I lost sensitivity to my pain...  and my need.

As I drove into the garage and parked my car, something in me just unraveled. My heart seemed to throb under a heavy weight and a flood of tears pushed up through my throat. And I began to sob.

What else is broken?

What pain have I masked so well that I no longer have any feelings left to contend with?

It Dawned On Me
I realized some deep seated fears and anxieties I've been battling to calm for many months cannot simply go away if I pray hard enough, study my Bible more thoroughly or double up my commitment to trust God harder.

It dawned on me — deep in my soul — God was gently speaking straight into me –

Bonnie, you are in a lot of pain.

Something is broken.


No one can see it, but I know it hurts. I know it is there.

Don't be afraid to trust me —

– by feeling the pain.

– by feeling need.


It's easy for me to pray and ask God to help me trust Him, when all I want is the pain or the problem to go away.

But, it feels completely foreign and disorienting to ask God to help me trust Him – so that I can feel needy.  So I can feel the pain.

This incident with my foot injury gave God, my soul's physician, to speak into some hiding places within me loud and clear.

Of course, I want to get an MRI and get to the bottom of this pain in my foot. I cringe at the thought of having to go the doctors for nth number of visits to try to figure this thing out.

But, one thing I do know. I'm not going to ignore it. I want my foot to heal.

The Mystery of Faith
So, it is also with another heart sickening problem I am having to confront. I am now praying and asking God to walk with me through places I haven't been before: the journey to feel pain — so that I can find comfort and healing on the way.

This isn't a journey that I want to go on.

I'm trying to resist it, by trying to solve the problem and be as high functioning as I can.

I can do capable.

I can do faith.

But God is now calling me to experience the mystery of faith. And He's calling me to it by inviting me to feel pain.

Maybe you are also going through a season where you suddenly find your highly productive, competent-self encountering a wall of weaknesses and confusion.

You may be like me — looking just fine on the outside. The hurt of the past appears to have subsided. You're not black and blue. Nothing is swollen or funny looking. But, inside you've been working hard to move away from disappointment, loss or loneliness. From pain. And from need.

What worked in the past to make you feel better has worked. You've survived.

But, it's not working anymore. Not this time. For whatever reason, the difficulty you're facing right now is eroding the peace you had once experienced from God.

But wait.

God is offering us hope. He says –

Your faith is still there. I just want you to use it differently.

You haven't failed. I want you to know that with me — you can.

I haven't abandoned you...

I am only holding onto you tighter because I know it's time for you to heal.

It's time for you to need.

It's time for you to feel the pain.

It is that time for me, friends.

Together, our journey to investigate the pain starts with trusting God is good. He is the soul physician.  He is extremely competent and kind. He has seen everything under the sun and nothing can shock Him or cause Him to abandon us in this process.  Even if we feel like He would, He won't.

Let's hold each other up in prayer today.

Let's share what we can.

And for all that is unspoken,the Holy Spirit will fill in the rest.



"Now that we know what we have – Jesus, this great High Priest
with ready access to God...

We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality.

He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all –

So let's walk right up to him
and get what he is so ready to give.
Take the mercy, accept the help."
Hebrews 4:14-16
~~~~~

Where are you with God on the journey to feel your need with Him?


Share a bit of your story?  Click here to comment. I'm grateful for your voice here.

~~~~~

By Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith for everyday life.

Join Bonnie at her blog as she journeys ahead with faith friends along the way.



My Delivery Guy's Prayer

May 24, 2012 01:10 am | Deidra

Someone should give my delivery guy some type of award. I am quite sure when that guy sees my address on his route and a box from DaySpring in the back of his truck, he must send up a few heartfelt prayers to God. He probably says something like this:

"God. It seems that today I have to deliver a package from DaySpring to the Riggs woman. You know how she gets, God. You know how she squeals and jumps up and down and how sometimes she even runs out to the truck, jumping up and down. God, all of that is downright embarrassing. You know how much she likes to go on and on about how wonderful those DaySpring products are, and You know how all of that talking messes up my schedule. So God, if it's not too much to ask, when I drop off this box and ring her doorbell, would you please PLEASE let her be out running errands or something?"

Poor thing.

If you've ever been the fortunate recipient of a box from DaySpring, your delivery person may be saying the same prayer. And because DaySpring likes the idea of keeping the country's amazing delivery people praying, they'd like to give five readers of (in)courage the chance to win a Good Things teacup and tote set. Yes! Seriously!

To be entered for your chance to win, just leave a comment below, telling us about the best thing you ever received from DaySpring. If you've never ordered from DaySpring before, tell us what you'd order if you could. We'll announce the winner on May 31st! Oh, and feel free to pass along this prayer to your delivery person.

[Judy Harder]

Elusive
May 25, 2012 01:20 am | Angie

It took me a long time to realize the toll it was taking on me.

Because the truth is, I love to hear people's stories. I have a Master's degree in psychology to prove it.

But I also have a history of seeing life through fear-tainted glasses.

It pains me to admit the way it still affects me, because it would seem that a girl who loved Jesus the way I do would just be able to get on the plane without checking the weather reports repeatedly. She wouldn't sit, back against the terminal wall, while her friend (thank you, Heather) strokes her hair and tells her if we need to stay, we'll stay.

I had tears running down my cheeks and I told her I had to get over it.

She spoke softly, and the words fell gently but with much weight.

"And this is part of your life now..."

Yes. The irony of the plane and the girl who doesn't want to speak is laughable. I did laugh, I think.

But then I looked back at the weather patterns.

It's part of my life.

All the babies that didn't wake up from naps and the ultrasounds that bring tears and all of the mommies and daddies who cry...

I need to feel community with these sweet sojourners, but I have realized that sometimes I need to take a step back. With the best of intentions, I had backed myself into a corner where it felt like babies never woke up from naps, and doctors only had news that destroyed lives.

It was making me lose hope.

It might be a different scenario for you-maybe divorce or abuse, or any number of things, but I'm willing to bet you have felt it too.

That voice in the back of your head that whispers, "Why did you ever think your God was good to begin with? And trust Him? You must be out of your mind..."

You may have named that voice, as he most certainly has one.

But you also have a voice.

And you don't have to watch the weather patterns to know the One who controls them.

You just have to believe He does.
I have realized that for me, sometimes enough is enough. It doesn't make me a bad person to say, "I don't think I can read any more emails like this for a little while."

But it's not just the emails. I think sometimes in our humanity we are drawn to that which confirms the worst about life. Buildings explode. People are sold, abused, and killed. Planes fall out of the sky.

I'm not trying to paint a morbid picture here (and to those of you in the fetal position vowing you will never click on an (in)courage post again, take heart...), but I think sometimes we need to call it like it is.

Life is hard. Hope is elusive.

But God wins.

His good, never-failing, constant, abiding, true, deep love...it wins.

And by actively choosing to recognize that, even if it doesn't completely swallow my fear the way I wish it did, helps me evaluate my days through a different lens.

God wins.

When I'm lost in my thoughts and I can't move my back away from the terminal wall, He will still win.

When the call comes in the middle of the night and I'm fumbling for the phone, sweating in terror, He will still win.

It doesn't mean it will always look how I wish it would, and it often doesn't. I'm face-to-face with a huge fear in my life right now that I wish I could just erase and pretend didn't exist. But I don't want to shrivel up and miss the beauty for the ashes.

All this madness...it isn't forever. Thank you, Jesus, it isn't forever...

I've run so hard, in so many directions, for so long...and I just need to remind myself that the race is not finished here. These momentary losses are nothing compared to the spectacular truth of eternity, and my life should whisper that.

Have you felt the sting of this life, friends? Is there a place in your life that you need to hear this reminder today? I speak from a place of ultimate humility, but with the confidence of a King's daughter.

Set your sights on that truth, no matter the battle.

Your Father is coming to win the war...

By: Angie, Bring the Rain




Broken Glass
May 25, 2012 01:10 am | Haley Goodman




Recently, my daughter got herself into our downstairs bathroom cabinet that stores all of our candles. She has been known to "explore" this cabinet with me before, and has always been gentle with the items in it.

She was having a "day"... Molars were breaking through her sweet little sore gums and she was a little one on a mission to destroy all things in her way.

I could tell that she needed extra attention, but in the midst of trying to clean up breakfast dishes, piles of laundry, and the scattered toys everywhere, she found herself standing in that room alone.

I had my eyes on her; I could see her ten feet away from me. She was "in my sight" but far enough away from me to be independent.

Within a matter of mere seconds, she grabbed a candle incased in glass and threw it on the ground. I ran as fast as I could to catch her, and my breath was stuck in my throat as I saw her little foot about to step on shattered glass.

With the grace of God, I got there quick enough to grab her.

I didn't have time for graceful movements and soft tender touches. Trying to do anything to prevent her foot from landing in any of the glass, I grabbed her with a fierceness I didn't know I had.  With one hand, I grabbed her little arm and lifted her up out of the brokenness she had found herself surrounded in.

My grip was so strong that her tiny head smacked into the doorframe. With tears coming down her face, I saw nothing but fear in her eyes. It was a mixture of so many emotions, muddled with the energy of the situation and firm voice I was using, and of course the literal impact of physical pain.

I could see that she was hurt, scared, and uncertain.
I was hell bent on making sure she was safe.


Away from the mess. Away from the bottom, the shattered glass, the danger. Clear of all the brokenness.

I quickly examined her little body, head to toe.
Heart to belly button.
She of course wasn't wearing a shirt and was without socks on her precious feet.
I expected the worse.
All clear except a minor scrape on her thumb.
How did I let this happen I kept thinking to myself?

I rushed to the sink in the kitchen to wash her finger.
As the water rushed over the blood pouring from her finger, tears streamed down my face.
She quickly calmed down and started playing in the sink.
Her immediate calm soothed my heart.
It could have been so much worse.

Muttered words of thankfulness began flowing from my mouth, tender words of absolute gratefulness to my Father who protected my daughter.

Grace.
His Grace for me, like a special gift that morning.
Undeserved favor- completely unmerited and yet so overwhelmingly appreciated.

How many times has He done that for me?
Grabbed me by my arm, out of the messy situation that I find myself in, with a fierceness that only a parent has for their child.
More times than I can count.


With tender touches He takes care of my bumps and bruises, comforts me, and provides healing for my broken heart.

He takes my brokenness and puts me together again.
He gently reminds me that bottom dwelling, and sitting in the midst of shattered glass is not what I have been called to.

He puts me together again, and then provides peace that makes me whole.

He took my sins upon Himself. He, who didn't deserve to bow down and get his hands dirty in my broken glass, did, for me.
He took my brokenness, and His wounds now heal me.

He always desires for me to be away from the mess.
Away from the bottom, the shattered glass, the danger.

Clear of all the brokenness.
And one by one, piece-by-piece, He is always faithful to put me together again.

"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."

- Isaiah 53:5 -

Written By Haley Goodman OCGoodmama

[Judy Harder]

I Went To Tanzania, Don't Ask Me About It M'Kay?

May 26, 2012 01:20 am | The Nester

some of the floor rubbed off onto my pants–when we went to visit the home of the boy my family sponsors~I still have them in a bag, I can't bear to wash them yet

Now that I've been back a full 13 days from the Compassion Bloggers trip to Tanzania (I'm writing this post the night before it's published if you are wondering) I'm finding the most common questions I get asked are "What was it REALLY like?"  and "Can we hear all about your trip soon?" And the clincher "So, how has Africa changed you?".  And I know these wonderful, caring people who ask me are lovely and genuine and I wish I had really great answers for them. It's not them, it's me.  The introvert in me just wants to say oh, I'd love to tell you all about it, here's a link to my blog.  And sometimes I do say that. It's a wonder I have any friends at all.



We went, and we wrote our hearts out. The highlight of the trip for me was getting to meet the 15-year-old boy that my family sponsors.  And I certainly cannot put into words, not even one word how Africa has or hasn't changed me.  I can barely sleep past 4:30 am still. A big part of me just simply doesn't feel like talking about it a whole lot right now.   I just want to be. Before I went on this trip I figured when I got back I'd write a really great post here at (in)courage but right now, I feel like I've said all I can.  If I write any more my words will just be getting in the way of the stories we saw.  So I'm gonna tell you the same things I tell the friends I still have (the people who can actually put up with me~I have the most wonderful friends) wanna here about my trip, want to hear what really happened?  Go read this:: Decorating Truths From a 15-Year-Old Tanzanian Boy because that post pretty much summed up the trip for me.

Also, Mary Carver did a lovely job of rounding up all the posts from the Compassion/Tanzania trip at her blog, stop by and check them out if you have a few minutes.

Who comes back from a trip and doesn't want to talk about it?  Forgive me people of the world and thank you for putting up with me.




Sunday Scripture
May 27, 2012 01:20 am | incourage

I have loved you even as the Father has loved me. Remain in my love.

When you obey my commandments, you remain in my love, just as I obey my Father's commandments and remain in his love.

I have told you these things so that you will be filled with my joy. Yes, your joy will overflow!  This is my commandment: Love each other in the same way I have loved you.

There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends.

John 15: 9-14

[Judy Harder]

For Those Who Are Hurting Today
May 28, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Mae


"You know your grandfather is dead, right?"

That's how she told me that my grandfather, the one who hung the moon in my world, had died. It was March 7, 1988. I was eight years old. A ball of flames had swallowed my grandfather up when his P51 Mustang "Dolly" crashed in the mountains.

"I know." I said, but I didn't really know. I knew he had been missing and my grandmother had been crying, but he was fine. He wasn't in a thousand pieces on some mountain where he stayed undiscovered for days.

Yes, he was.

So I went to eat at my friends house. They talked and passed around food and I squashed my tears so I could be good company.

My grandfather was dead. My grandfather, the WWII crew chief of a B-25 Mitchell bomber based in New Guinea, flying raids against the Japanese, was dead. He survived WWII but couldn't survive a trip to an air show.



I sobbed loudly into my pillow that night.

My mourning was all my own, and it had to be done in quiet. Every part of me ached; I loved him so much.

But today I'm saying, "God, I miss him." And I'm letting my tears fall and I'm wishing I could have known him as an adult.

Memorial day is when we remember those who have died in our nations service. My grandfather didn't die on the battlefield, but he was among those who did. And today, I'm thinking about my eight year old self and how my heart pulsed with pain when I found out he died. I'm thinking about all the eight year olds and seven year olds and little ones who have lost their mommy or daddy in a war, and I'm thinking about their hearts and their pain and I wish I could make it all better. But of course, I can't.

Today, let's remember those who bled on the battlefield.

And let's remember those who are left holding the pain.

Father, I pray for those who have lost a loved one to a war. I pray that you would give them arms to cry in, and the freedom to feel their emotions. I pray that you would comfort them, and soothe their spirits with peace. I pray for the little ones who have lost their parents to a war, I pray that you give them great pride in their parents courage and honor. I pray that you keep their little hearts tucked in tightly with yours, and I pray you would surround them with loving arms. Father, today we groan for heaven, for the day when pain will cease and only tearless eyes will be present. Hold our hearts today. In the name of Jesus, amen.

By Sarah Mae


On This Memorial Day
May 28, 2012 01:15 am | Kristen Strong




My husband's best friend retired from the Air Force a few days ago, and I cried my eyes out during the ceremony.

I can't even explain why I cried, exactly. Partly because his words to his family were so warm and appreciative. But even more than that, I couldn't help but sense the winds of change in the air. Change has not typically been my best friend, which is one reason God arranged for me to fall in love with and marry an Air Force man. Seventeen years into this military lifestyle, change still may not be my best friend, but we do accept one another and have learned to play nice.

Military families accept change as an act of obedience to the job they are called to do. We accept the sacrifice that comes with it for the same reason. We sacrifice familiarity. We sacrifice our loved one's spot near the birthday cake or Thanksgiving meal. Sometimes, we even sacrifice their presence on this earth.

Our active duty military and their families are proud to serve, but we don't think we are super special or more important than you. In our eyes, we are just living in obedience to the God-created rhythm of sacrifice for a greater good. There is no getting around it: freedom costs. So we do what must be done for what we love. For whom we love.

On this Memorial Day, may the families of our fallen feel God especially close. May they know God holds every tear shed. After all, He knows the pain of losing a cherished one. And through the heartache and loneliness and days chock full of crazy, may all military families know God walks smack dab next to you. He sees the work you do, oh yes He does. It is important, valued, and appreciated. And so are you!

Do you have any Memorial Day traditions? And if you have a loved one currently serving or deployed, might you leave his or her first name in your comment so we can pray?

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies



No More Waiting
May 28, 2012 01:10 am | Maria B




My fingers are covered in post-it glue.

I've been furiously planning; leafing through pages and pages of "visit here!" slogans and photos of larger-than-life castles, endless greenery and hearty bowls of potato stew. My notes are scribbled and stuck everywhere... from "pack a sweater!" to "eat here!" to "how much is 10 euros?"

In a few months, my cute husband and I will be flying over the Atlantic to visit Ireland for 10 days of vacation and exploring. It's months away and still I could hardly sleep last night; counting the seconds until I get to see those impossibly beautiful cliffs and otherworldly ruins.

All my life, I've wanted to travel. Ever since I learned about the Egyptian pyramids in grade school and then heard the impossible words "they're still here," I've been determined to see "Out There."

But my husband and I are only a few years out of college, and travelling money hasn't been easy to come by. Neither, for that matter, has gas money or rent money or eating-something-other-than-oatmeal-for-dinner money. Don't get me wrong; we've had a blast navigating the beginning of our marriage and the art of creative money-saving (did you know Frisbees can make perfectly good dinner plates?) But in my heart of hearts for the past few years, I've been anxiously sweating over my desperateness to travel.

So when God gave us the gift this year of financially being able to hop over to the Emerald Isle, something happened. I said these words to my husband:

"I feel like my life just stopped being something I was waiting for."

Oh, to repent of that thought!

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt the gravity of how deeply I was betraying the significance of the years I've already lived. These years haven't been significant in that I cured cancer or converted multitudes. Rather, they are significant because they were Now.

God exists now. God says "I Am." Not "I Was" or "I Will Be" or "I'll Be Ready For You When You Get That Thing You Want." He Is, Now, always.

During my travel-less years, when I've answered the phone at work, He's had something to teach me. When I've bought milk and eggs at the store, He's had something to show me. When I've ironed Aaron's work shirts, again, He's longed for me. When I dreamed fitful dreams of far-off places I didn't think I'd ever see, He tried to help me fix my eyes, instead, on Right Then.

One of the most miraculous gifts that God gives his people is that every second we breathe is significant; because in these seconds, we can commune with Him.

Even though I still can't wait for our trip and to see the wonders of God's Irish creations that I've post-it-marked up and down, I want to live Now and realize that I can commune with God both in the break room at work and at the Glendalough monastic ruins.

And that communion, my friends, is what we were waiting for. But then He came, and died. And rose.

Stop waiting.

[Judy Harder]

In the Garden {Good for the Soul}

May 29, 2012 01:20 am | Melissa Michaels


While creating a comfortable and beautiful home for my family is something I truly love to do, I actually think I enjoy creating little gardens outside even more. Perhaps it is because God Himself had His own hand on those plants, designing their intricate unique leaves, textures and colorful flowers. He delighted in each detail. That is an incredible thought!

When I am outside digging in the dirt and filling my planters with God's lovely handiwork each summer, I really feel a sense of supernatural peace come over me.

Let's be honest, I don't have a green thumb and many of the plants I bring home eventually die. It is true. I don't mean to, but it happens. I don't particularly sense God's gardening favor on me, but that doesn't seem to matter much. Even though I don't have a clue what I'm doing with plants, I still sense God's love and presence there. He feels near.

Working with plants and creating a little oasis from the world outside in a garden reminds me of the tender care He puts into His creation. Why do I worry? Why do I let myself stress out about anything? Slowing down the hectic pace of life to spend time in my little garden reminds me He is there and He cares, more than I can really even imagine.

Gardening is good for my soul.

Do you sense God's presence when you work in the garden?

Come see more of my little garden oasis this week at The Inspired Room!

[Judy Harder]

When Fear Is Removed

May 30, 2012 01:20 am | Angela Nazworth

The stress of the unknown weighted me anxious. I had an opportunity to pursue ... a decision to make. A stirring deep within concocted a desire to explore. I didn't know why, but I knew that I must.

I knew that good would come from the exploration. Earth-shattering change was not eminent. Altering my life was not required; but inspection, scrutiny and analysis of situation and self demanded action. Yet, I froze ... suspended in a nebula of confusion and fear.

Questions that I did not want to answer hovered. Undesirable scenarios loomed. A visual of potential hurt feelings flashed in my mind's eye. Threats of failure danced around me. Doubts circled and sang what-if?

I locked eyes with a Godly friend and whined.

"I need someone to make this decision for me. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Explore it," she decided ... quickly. Too quickly for my liking.

"I was hoping for a different answer," I sighed.

Then, she offered instruction. "Take fear out of the equation. Now, what do you want to do?"

I smiled. "I want to see what this is really about."

She returned my smile with one of her own, "Then, that's what you do."

So I explored. And I learned. And I grew.

In its unhealthy form, fear is, at best, an obstacle ... at worst, it is an agent of paralysis and atrophy. When removed from the equation, fear is left without power and the right choice rises to the surface.

"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the day drawing near." Hebrews 10:23-25 NASB.

So friend ... what decision(s) do you need to make? Is fear keeping you from moving forward? What would you do, if fear was removed from the equation?

By Angela, Womb Woven and Wonderfully Made


The King is Enthralled By Your Beauty
May 30, 2012 01:10 am | Christine Wright


The hurt was so deep, I didn't even know it was there.  Thank goodness, I thought to myself, almost everyone we knew was finally out of the dreaded "wedding stage" and into the "baby stage".

Well ahead of the curve, I'd passed through the milestones of early adulthood before any of my friends...but that meant by the time they started down the aisles, the pain in my heart had started slowly growing.

I couldn't even tell it was there at first...I just knew I didn't like weddings.

It didn't help that my husband knew enough people that at one point we were going to so many weddings, we had stopped traveling for any other reason.  Our world revolved around these "celebrations".

One morning, everything changed.

For the most part, all was quiet on the invite-front, but every now and then one would still come in.  My husband innocently asked me if I'd RSVP'd to it.  I couldn't believe how snippy I got with him from just that one question.  I had not RSVP'd and did not plan on doing it until much closer to the deadline, I explained, very pointedly.  You never know what might happen between now and then to save me, I was thinking.

After we went back and forth a little bit, him stating why it was very important for us to go (this is a good place to add that he loves to watch his friends get married...LOVES it), me trying to defend myself, but just getting more upset, I started to understand this was something deeper.

Aware that I needed to pray, I retreated with my Bible.  God started re-tracing the hurt.  Years and years were unpacked and as they were exposed to the truth, the more embarrassed by my pain I felt.  Shamed by the darkness in my heart, I wanted to run and hide.

He gently showed me the story behind my sadness anyway.  You see, I never got to be a bride.  Never even got to try on a dress.

We married quickly (in jeans!) on the side of a snow covered mountain.  It was beautiful, but it left a longing in me I didn't even know was there until that morning   The pain of never having had a wedding, so powerful, I thought it might wash right over me in that moment.

I knew The One who could speak the truth into that dark crevasse, where no light had been for so long, was ready and willing, I was just taken aback by how strong my feelings were, and I was ashamed.  It was a whopper of a 1-2 punch by the enemy, not only the shattering lies of envy and hatred Satan had placed, but then the shame that kept them firmly rooted in that dark soil.

I sat there with God...Him, patient as always, waiting for me to again realize, life through Him is really the only way.  He wrapped me in His mighty love.  I finally opened my Bible, hungry for His living word.  Not knowing exactly what I needed to read, just knowing I had to see His words...to have them in front of me, to drink them in, get them down deep in my spirit.

God led me directly to Psalm 45. A wedding song.

Truly a God moment. I was reminded in that instant that someday I would indeed be a bride...in a heavenly marriage. I sat in tears for a long time.  God took each little shard of hurt, down to the last splinter, and gently removed it from my heart.

It was then my heart rested and I knew I would never look at a wedding the same way.

"The King is enthralled by your beauty; honor Him, for He is your Lord."  Psalm 45:11

By: Christine, Living Joel 2:25

[Judy Harder]

A Prayer for the BrokenHearted
May 31, 2012 04:25 am | Ann Voskamp


Father of the broken-hearted daughter...

oh, hear our prayer....



Give Your daughter the wisdom to know it:

Hiding when you're hurting won't heal you and growing isolated can just let infection grow.

Give Your daughter the love to live it:

The secret way to heal a broken heart is to let love leak out like an ocean through all the cracks.

Give Your daughter grace to do the crazy impossible:

It's the hurting and wounded who are always the ones called to be medics — to administer lavish grace, to cast the messy in the best, merciful light.

The best way to tend to your open wounds is to open your arms.  Out-loving is the only ointment that healed anything.

Let the broken choose it: When you're most wounded by words, run to the only Word that always brings healing.

Let the broken see it: When you're wounded and need dressing, look in the mirror, touch you face, and see how He clothes you in righteousness, wraps you in promises, swathes you in a Savior — who saves.

When you have Jesus on the inside, you're never on the outside.

Let the broken say it: When you're bruised by lies, believe truth and whisper it louder: I am my Beloved's.

When Love's got hold of you, there isn't a lie in the universe that can pull you apart.

Let the broken trust it: Giving the benefit of the doubt — is what benefits the people of the Faith.

Doesn't love always believe the best, not the worst?

And may that wind the brokenhearted daughter faces, may it fly her hair like a glory flag,

And may the hills that rise before her be but an exhilaration,

And may all her trials be but a trail,

all the stones on the way be but grace stairs to God.

:


In name of Jesus who broke His heart to heal ours...

Amen...

:

:


~ praying with you, with love, from Ann Voskamp

Related Posts: When You've been Wounded, Cheated, Disappointed, & Heartbroken




Q4U: How have you been broken? What's one nugget of wisdom you've learned in the midst of the brokenness?


How can we join you in praying for the brokenhearted?

[Judy Harder]

Do You Make Time for the Children?
Jun 01, 2012 01:20 am | Dawn Camp




Not your own children. Other people's children and not just the children of your best friends. Children at church and in your neighborhood.

Let me share with you the story of a sweet relationship that started recently because someone made time for and paid attention to my youngest daughter.

Sister Fairy approached me on a recent Sunday morning before church carrying two take-out containers: one contained a large cinnamon roll and the other a cream horn. The previous Sunday several of us went to CiCi's Pizza after church and apparently Sister Fairy took the last cinnamon roll at the buffet just moments before my youngest daughter, Lily, went to get her own.

This sweet lady, a petite woman with a swirl of white curls, worried all week about that roll and brought these two desserts to my little Lily. When she asked if she could give them to her, I immediately said yes.

"Jerry said that with all of those kids I couldn't take this to just one, but I said yes, I can, because Lily's the one that I took the last cinnamon roll from," she told me, with a twinkle in her eye. (Brother Jerry, her husband, is a tall man with kind blue eyes that trickle when he prays and I love him dearly.)

I knew this wasn't about sugar or a possibly spoiled dinner. It was about concern for the feelings of my little girl. What mother could say no to that?

I didn't witness the apology and the giving of the gift, but I heard all about it from my kids, many of whom seemed to wish they'd been in Lily's place the previous week. She shared the cream horn, but enjoyed every last bite of that cinnamon roll.

Two weeks ago we were shocked and saddened by Sister Fairy's sudden death from a massive heart attack. Sometimes when an older church member passes away, my kids don't know them by name unless I give a description; point out where they usually sit; or even show a church directory picture. This wasn't a problem with Sister Fairy; my kids knew exactly who she was.

I told the story of the cinnamon roll to a friend as we walked into services that Sunday and she encouraged me to share, so I stood and recounted this tale and the example that I pray lives on in the telling of it. I'm sad that this bond, this friendship between young and old, was cut short so soon after it began, but I hope it's sealed in my little girl's memory. Demonstrating love and kindness to the youngest among us—showing them they have value in our eyes—might impact their lives in ways beyond today, beyond what we can even imagine.

What can you do to show love to the children around you? Do you have a memory of an adult who paid special attention to you as a child?


By: Dawn, My Home Sweet Home

[Judy Harder]

Summer Bucket Lists Aren't Just for Kids
Jun 02, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley




Last summer I hand-wrote a pretty lofty, but doable list and taped it on the front of my refrigerator. It was our summer bucket list.

My daughters are at this great age where it's very easy to take them places. At the beach they carry their own bags, at the pool they can swim with supervision but not constant helicoptering, and at the regional park they can hike and walk without needing to be carried.  This school-aged independence has made for super active {read super-fun and super-exhausting} summers in the last year or two.

Last summer's bucket list had about 35 activities on it and they ranged from the exciting to the normal. And I think by Labor Day we had ticked off nearly all of them.

Go to Art Camp

Go on a nature walk at the nature center.

Collect seashells at the beach

Play-date with Audrey and Amelia

Pack a picnic and take it to the park

An "I'm-bored" gets met with "Let's-pick-something-from-the-bucket-list." So the days we're all tempted to play video games and eat chocolate covered pretzels turn into days we play tag in a field. We do things that are a little outside of our comfortable zone and we all end up loving it.

School is nearly out for us and I'm thinking about what things I want to include on a summer bucket list for my almost-first-grader and my almost-fifth-grader this year.

Then I thought: What would a Mom-bucket list look like?

What if we, as moms and dads, as women, married or unmarried, as daughters of the Kingdom, created bucket lists for ourselves.

We might choose things that put us a bit out of our comfortable places, that take us up off the couch, that let us interact with people and in places that we wouldn't normally be. We could create "bucket lists" that help further the Kingdom and help reach out with love and grace to others. What if we...

Invite the next door neighbors over for a BBQ {You know – the ones we never talk to?}.

Volunteer a Saturday and do errands for an older couple in the community.

Sign up to mentor a pregnant teen or an at-risk child in our town.

Write our sponsor child several times before the summer is over (or sign up to sponsor one!)

Drive someone somewhere who needs a ride.

Memorize a poem or a chapter of the Bible.

Researched an organization we were always curious about.

If we blog, write about your current struggles (with grace) rather than stuff we've already overcome.

Begin the thing we've been waiting to do {adoption process, writing a book, starting your business)

The list doesn't have to be long but it should be slightly different than what you normally do, a bit uncomfortable even. Let us come into this brilliant summer with others on our mind and with hearts open to give and to love.

Add your own: What is something you can do this summer to a.) get out of your comfort zone and b.) share love with someone else?

[Judy Harder]

This is a community of sisters.

This is a community of women who promise to have each others' backs.

This is a community of women who cheer each other on.

This is a community of women who believe the best of one another.

This is a community of women who delight in each others' success, celebrate each others' joys and wrap arms and prayers around each others' broken hearts.

This is a community of women who understand crisis – financial, family or faith.

This is a community of women who prays together.

"Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others."
Romans 12: 4-5

Sisters, how can we pray for you today?

What part of you is aching? What part of you has something to celebrate?

We welcome your prayer requests in the comments. And as you open your hearts to us, will you take a moment to kneel down for the sister who commented before you? And whisper a prayer over her alongside your own request.

You are beloved.

You are beloved.