(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.
Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves
be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
Galatians 5:1

[Judy Harder]

Blessed is the Nation
Jul 08, 2013 01:20 am | Jennifer Studio JRU



Along with the month of July comes fun parades and picnics. The melting ice cream and jumping into swimming pools. Those delicious barbecues and beautiful fireworks. This is the month in America that we celebrate our nation and we celebrate our freedom.

We have so much to be grateful for. This freedom is a gift many have sacrificed to protect. It is a gift from God. It is a gift that was purchased at a high price on that cross.

Remember Him. Honor Him. We must choose how we will use our freedom. Wholeheartedly for Christ.

For you have been called to live in freedom, my brothers and sisters. But don't use your freedom to satisfy your sinful nature. Instead, use your freedom to serve one another in love. Galatians 5:13 NLT


To know God is to be blessed.

This scripture is in our home as a reminder of the gift of freedom we have in Him. I would love to share it with you. You can just click on the image {a free PDF printable} and you will be able to open or download the image, that you can then print to use in your own home.

Personal use only, please. (And for those of you who have asked, the print is also available in my shop.)

In our home, I put this print in an 8″ x 10″ black frame. The print is 5″ x 7″.

Using our freedom to serve one another in love... what a wonderful thing that is.

So how do you use your precious gift of freedom? We would love to hear!

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

[Judy Harder]

When My Happy Gets Bumped
Jul 09, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst


Most days, I wake up fairly happy. It's not like I wake up in the mood for a party but generally I'm not grumpy when I arise. I wake up and things seem pretty good, level, and fresh with possibilities. And then inevitably something will bump into my happy.

An early morning meltdown by one of my people. It's amazing what a bad hair day can do to a teenager's attitude.

Or a forgotten something for school. And one of my people wants their irresponsibility to suddenly become my emergency.

Or an e-mail from somebody who clearly gets high from trying to bring others down.

Or me misjudging our time and suddenly everything is rushed and hurried and stressful.

Or my husband Art fussing because he wants to keep the house at 68 degrees and I can't stop shivering until the temperature hovers closer to 72. It's amazing how much of a difference 4 degrees makes. (Seriously, 68 is like living in an ice cave. I'm just saying.)

Anyhow, things happen. Things that bump into my happy. And suddenly I'm a little off kilter and a little less nice.

Can you relate?

Well, I'm learning something about a little mental perspective I need to have when things bump into my happy. In that moment, Satan is scheming to have me help him out. If he can just get me jostled to the point where I react out of anger, it's like lighting a spark near a puddle of gasoline.

Even the smallest spark can ignite quite a fire. A fire that will spread and feel much bigger than what the situation ever should have been.

Take the temperature discussion for example.

It should be just a simple discussion. But, add a little anger and suddenly things in my brain escalate to the point where I've just about convinced myself Art is completely insensitive and couldn't care less about me.

Is that true? Of course not. He just likes to sit in his house without sweating. Surely, we could find a compromising temperature or I could go put on some socks and a sweatshirt.

Instead, when he bumped my happy, I sparked, and a 'growth opportunity' ensued that left us both feeling a little burned.

In other words, I played right into Satan's scheme and helped him out. Remember, Satan's very name means one who casts something between two to cause a separation. Be it a temperature issue, tight finances, a misunderstood statement, or one of the millions of little things that can bump our happy... we must remember we do have a choice.

We can choose to play into Satan's schemes and add to his attempts to separate us from God's best.

Or, we can choose to fight for our relationships and against Satan's attempts to trip us up.

When I think about it in these terms, it helps me realize who my real enemy is.

My real enemy isn't any of the people that bump my happy. My real enemy is the one who tries with all his might to get me to jump into a grumpy mood and help him tear down all that I love.

Well, you better back up and back off, Satan. I'm on to your schemes. And I have a totally new game plan for when my happy gets bumped. Starting with finding just the right pair of socks and a sweatshirt to wear in the ice cave I share with my burning hunk of love named Art.

What bumps your happy and sends you off kilter? Could this realization that it's not just you feeling jostled but a scheme of Satan's to separate give you a different perspective? I'd love to hear from you in the comments below.

By Lysa TerKeurst

For more encouragement on the days when your happy gets bumped, check out Lysa's book Unglued. Click here to get your copy!




Love In The Dark
Jul 09, 2013 01:10 am | Danielle Ayers Jones


As he sat there in the dirty, stinking, cell with his back against the cold wall, Joseph had every reason to be miserable.

Sold by his brothers as a slave into a foreign land, he'd risen to "top slave" in Potiphar's house. He'd been responsible and in charge of his master's possessions. And what was his reward? Because of his purity and respect for both his God and his master, he'd been thrown into prison, all because he wouldn't sleep with Potiphar's wife. She'd taken her revenge for his refusal, seeing to it that he would rot in jail.

Yes, Joseph had every reason to be downcast, depressed, and disheartened.

But then there's this sentence, sitting right there, in the dark with Joseph:

"But the LORD was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison" (Genesis 39:21, ESV).

I wonder how Joseph felt that steadfast love. There were no Bibles in his day. Was it through prayer? A voice? A feeling?

God didn't show Joseph love by rescuing him or changing his circumstances. Oh, we know Joseph eventually gets out, but Joseph didn't know that was in his future. Joseph was in prison for over two years, that much we know for sure. And somehow, in the dark of prison, God was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love.

The phrase steadfast love in Hebrew is hesed. It is a word that has no exact parallels in English. It is also often rendered as "loving-kindness" in many translations.

I have to admit this verse took me by surprise the other morning when I read it. It was almost shocking.

When circumstances have turned for the worse in my life—whether it's been my parents separating or my husband losing his job—I'm tempted to ask God "why me?" I want out. I wonder if God's punishing me for doing something wrong.

But here's what Joseph's story teaches me: I can be smack in the center of God's plan for my life and experience His love in the midst of dark, hard, confusing, and seemingly hopeless circumstances.

God was building character in Joseph during all those hard years. He was making him into the man he needed to be once he was released and would become one of Egypt's most powerful men.

And so, when I face hard times and uncertainty, I want to open myself up to God. I want to ask, what character does God want to build in me? And I want to experience God's precious steadfast love in the midst of whatever dark, dirty, and stinky circumstances that come my way.

By Danielle Ayers Jones, danielleayersjones.com


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[Judy Harder]

For When We Have to Wait
Jul 10, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley



I gave up mothering for a frozen pizza last night.

It was Sunday night after a long weekend and I opened the freezer. Score. A frozen Tombstone. I preheated the oven to 400 and flopped back down on the sofa.

This mama is done. Over it. Exhausted and Sunday night lite-dinner was going to be frozen pizza.

I had no guilt. I carried no shame. Frozen pizza is an entirely acceptable Sunday night dinner for a tired family.

My husband offered to pop the pizza in and he set the timer. The pizza came out of the oven 20 minutes later and needed to cool on the counter.

The smell of hot pepperoni must have spurred something in the girls' stomachs because not 30 seconds passed before one of them wailed "I'm hungreeee!"

I looked over at her, "Seriously? Pizza is out and it's cooling. You can wait five minutes."

"But I can't!!" She came back at me.

"Of course you can." I reassured her.

"Eat a banana," my husband piped in.

{In our house, "eat a banana" is the panacea for most ailments}

She just couldn't wait. Waiting is hard and it's not natural. Or at least we think it's not natural.

I'm glad God didn't create women to give birth the moment they understood they had life growing in their belly.

And that a line prevents me from riding the roller coaster over and over again. I have to wait. At least not at my age. Thirty-eight years equals headache and nausea after two rides in a row.

I'm glad that I can't think a song or a book into existence. That the writing is a process and a birth of its own. And I'm glad that our children take so long to grow. I couldn't bear to give them away to the world as soon as they were born.

There is so much waiting in life.

We wait for everything. I joke with my ever-late husband that I've spent most of my adult life waiting for him to do something: get home, get to the dance recital, finish in the bathroom.

But we are an impatient people. We wait for a living, but we still can't grasp the idea that waiting isn't only a part of life, it is necessary.

What IF we gave birth when we figured out we were pregnant. Nothing would be ready, not our homes or our hearts or our families. And IF we could think a book into existence? We'd be robbed of the joy. There is so.much.learning in the writing. So much valuable learning in the process.

And there is so much learning in the waiting.

We learn patience and long-suffering and tolerance when we wait. We learn forgiveness and self-awareness and we learn how to slow down. When we wait it is one more example that life is a journey to be walked through not a destination to be won.

Waiting makes us mature and age well, I believe.

So next time we are forced to wait, for a child, for an ever-late husband, for a project or a venture to be born into existence, maybe we can rest in the waiting, knowing that it's making us ready for the next thing.

That is the grace in life: that even in the long night before the morning, there is goodness even there.

[Judy Harder]

Holy and Altogether Home
Jul 12, 2013 01:00 am | Lori Harris



Bread & Wine Guest Post #3
I wore lipstick and heels and the stones moved under the thin soles of my shoes, my heels digging down into the surface of the ground.

We walked over cobblestone and pebbles and I will forever remember the way those stones felt under my feet...

Holy and altogether home.

The doors opened and we walked in together, the four of us.  I sat next to her and my love sat next to him and one candle flickered, its heat warming my face.

The wait staff moved in and out of our space, pouring water and filling glasses and I laughed as the waiter explained the menu to me.   He could have spoken broken English to me for hours and I would have never stopped smiling at him.  I memorized his face, his hands, the way the light bounced off of his black hair...I memorized the moment. 

I smile now as I turn that moment over and over again in my mind.

We devoured tortilla chips and good salsa and I remember watching my other half from across the table and I remember him leaning back in his chair, laughter erupting from his belly.  He was wild with life as he hung strands of words in the air like Christmas lights and I remember the warm feeling that fell over me as I watched him come alive.

The hours slipped through our fingers and I felt myself grasping for more.

More time, more food, more closeness around the table.

I leaned in to my edge of the table and with my eyes, I begged her to keep talking, to keep sharing bits of her life.  I swallowed every word she spoke.  I was needy, starved for friendship and a kind word and she fed me.

Lavishly.

My fingers are simply lost on the keyboard as I sift through the moments around the table.  I don't even remember the words she spoke or the way she spoke them, but I  remember her and the way she shimmered in the candle light.

She looked like Jesus.

The wait staff cleared our table and I bought time by way of Mexican coffee.

Flaming  Mexican Coffee.

I remember the heat of the flame, the way the waiter threw cinnamon onto the rim of the mug, each throw catching fire in the flame like sparklers on New Year's.  I remember us laughing out loud, the fire dancing in our eyes, the whipped cream floating on top of the coffee.

We sipped the dessert through straws and I imagined heaven being like this, all sparkly and creamy and sweet to the taste.

Filling to the body, satisfying to the soul, and...

Home.

By Lori Harris, And This is Grace

 

[Judy Harder]

Summertime Stories: (in) Classics
Jul 13, 2013 01:20 am | incourage



Summer is a great time for catching up and taking a breather and sipping lemonade on the porch with the neighbors or the kids or your husband or all of the above. So today, as you begin your weekend, kick back and enjoy a few (in)courage summertime classics about living our summers to the full, making memories and telling our stories, and remembering The Best Story of All.


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The Word has done it. The Word holds up a mirror and the Word peels back the mask and the words are who we are. We weep out of recognition. This story is us. This is the read that is deeply revelational. We see us. When we pick up Scripture, we do not read, a verb; we become, a realization.
The Best Read This Summer — Guaranteed by Ann Voskamp

The summer snapshots are endless. The memories shape us, for better or worse. The stories are told and re-told — if not in words, then in our choices, our insecurites, our loves and our aversions. It's why I sometimes still hesitate when I put on flip-flops, why Dolly Parton sounds like home, why it feels extravagant to drink Coke from a can.
Learning to Tell Your Summertime Stories by Emily Freeman

I write it out to remember the smell of the driveway and the drive, the morning air with hornets buzzing behind the dew berry bushes. We all have to stop once in a while to gather up these good summer days, no matter how sometimes our hearts can ache. Look around. We are blessed here, even just with this breath.
A Deep Summer Breath by Amber Haines


I know I've said it, but I'll say it again—if Susanna Wesley, 17th century mother of 19 kids, managed to find some rest, we 21st century gals can, too. The story goes that when she'd pull her apron over her head, the kids knew to be quiet. She was getting some alone time to pray. We can, too.
Summer Breaks: Not Just for Kids by Tsh Oxenreider

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.
Summer Bucket Lists Aren't Just for Kids by Sarah Markley

Too often, as adults, we are so caught up in the "big" stuff that we miss out on the simple joys. At least I know I do. Today, go jump in a pool. Laugh until your belly hurts. Take time to revel in the simple.
Don't Miss the Simple Joys by Jessica Turner

Instead of focusing on what we "can't do," let's focus on what we CAN do! Let yourself and your family find delight in small pleasures that ARE accessible to you this summer. Make a list of little things that could bring beauty and happiness to your summer. Experience as many of them as you possibly can!
Six Tips to Enjoy A Beautiful Summer {at Home} by Melissa Michaels


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For more seasonal posts, check out the sweet "Seasonal" tab on the front page of our pretty new (in)courage site, as well as in the sidebar of the blog!

What memories are you making and stories are you telling this summer?

[Judy Harder]

When You Feel Like Running Away
Jul 16, 2013 01:20 am | Mary Carver



Sometimes a difficult day comes out of nowhere, surprising you with its frustrations and challenges. Sometimes, though, it's just the last day in a line of difficult days, days that have worn you down with their bumps in the road and unexpected troubles.

Today was one of those days.

I woke up to a house in chaos, which was no shocker given that I'd gone to bed in a house of chaos. As the calendar flipped to the warmest months of the year, my second trimester and the two weeks when both my babysitter and parents went on vacation (leaving me to work from home with a five-year-old who demanded to know, every few minutes, "Are you done yet? Can we play now?"), we embarked on the desperate frenzy of house repairs necessary to get our house listed before month's end.

It wasn't the brightest move, I'll give you that. But at the time (and, really, even today) it seemed necessary and unavoidable. It was also the recipe for the perfect storm.

After days of decluttering and dealing with a handyman who didn't show up, a mortgage banker who didn't give straight answers and a husband whose work schedule prevented him from Fixing All the Things When I Want, I was done. D-O-N-E, done! I wasn't sleeping well, my blood pressure was rising, and the tears were close to the surface pretty much all the time.

So when Sunday included a Tantrum of Screaming Proportions from my five-year-old (WHILE WE WERE AT CHURCH, thankyouverymuch), more cleaning and scrubbing that my poor arms were used to, and a kitchen with half of the new flooring but none of the baseboard and an unplugged stove, I couldn't handle it.

As I trudged down my hallway after putting my [remorseful and once-again sweet] kiddo to bed, headed toward the computer to finish the work I'd avoided all weekend, I slammed my bare toes into some piece of something metal that had been unplugged from somewhere.

And I just lost it.

I stood in the hallway, sobbing like a baby and thought, "That's it! I'm running away from home. I can't be here anymore. I. Just. Can't."

Of course, it was nearly bedtime by then, and the logical, grown-up thing to do was to simply go to sleep. After all, things would look brighter in the morning, right? At least my appliances would be back in their rightful spots and I could go about re-cleaning the kitchen that had been spotless before the tools and the man entered the picture. Right?

But . . . things weren't really brighter this morning.

I woke up to semi-urgent emails from work and stumbled directly to the computer to problem solve. As I typed and thought, my kiddo – after approximately one minute of being content to snuggle next to me and watch her favorite cartoons – was repeating, in quick succession, "Mommy, what's for breakfast? Will you get me breakfast? Can we eat breakfast now?"

Oh good, a chance to go into the kitchen.

The flooring was finished, but the baseboard wasn't. The refrigerator and stove were still standing firm in the dining room. And the dining room table was hiding under a layer of cleaning supplies and McDonald's cups and various fixing-the-house litter.

Super excited to see her babysitter again (Hallelujah! That 13-year-old angel is back from vacation!), my kiddo still pitched a fit over the outfit THAT WE PICKED OUT TOGETHER. The one I bought and washed and folded and NOW I'M YELLING AGAIN! Losing my temper after she lost hers only made us both cry, and then I barely had time for a shower. And my contacts wouldn't stick to my eyeballs.

And, oh look, the salon down the street from the babysitter is having a pedicure sale, which is perfect because my toes have been neglected way too long BUT I DON'T HAVE THE TIME OR MONEY FOR THAT THIS WEEK.

As I climbed back into my car after big hugs and gritted teeth (and a promise to return that afternoon), I thought to myself, "I cannot go back to that house."

Sure, I knew it would be quiet. But it would still be in chaos. And I simply couldn't face it. Not yet. Not today.

So this morning, at the hour between breakfast (which I'd already eaten) and lunch (which I skipped in favor of a nap), I pulled into the diner near my house, walked in and ordered a stack of pancakes.

I sat there, eating alone and reading my Bible on my phone, waiting for peace or inspiration or perhaps a reminder that God was in control. Instead, I found an Old Testament God-will-smite-you kind of story with vague application to my life – and ended up with syrup on my glasses and my phone.

Oh, how I wish I had a clever way to wrap up this story, friends. If only I'd gotten some sort of sign on my way home from my table-for-one brunch or had some epiphany while scrolling through Scripture on my phone. Maybe it will all click next week. Or next month. Maybe.

But for now, I just want to tell you that I understand. Some days are too hard, and you need to run away. Not forever, but for just a little while.

It's okay. Go ahead. Hide in your bathroom or buy an ice cream cone on the way home. Make time for the pedicure, or ask a friend to watch the kids while you walk aimlessly around Target for an hour. Stop at the diner and order pancakes – and don't share your bacon.

When you want to run away from home, you're not alone. You're not alone in the wanting, and you're not alone in the running.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
~ Deuteronomy 31:6

Have you ever wanted to [temporarily] run away from home? What did you do?







Faith Beyond A Check-List
Jul 15, 2013 08:10 pm | Angela Logan



I think I would have made a great Pharisee. You see, I love rules. They provide a check-list of sorts to measure my life against, to prove that I am a "good Christian." Read the Bible every day: Check. Go to church every week: Check. Don't get drunk, don't swear, don't steal: Check. Give a tithe of your first fruits: Check...usually. Love your neighbor as yourself: Che... Wait a minute, where did that one come from?

As kids, we needed rules to help us know the difference between right and wrong, as well as to keep us safe. Rules were good. Even as adults, having a few rules is a good thing. But if our entire pursuit of God becomes a long list of dos and don'ts, shoulds and should-nots, then we have distorted the Gospel. In fact, the closer we draw to God, the farther we should get from legalism. Grace becomes the new "law" of our hearts, and it manifests itself as love for God and His people.

The last section of Hebrews 5 addresses a group of people who have not been pursuing spiritual maturity.  They have remained babies of the faith and have stopped trying to understand anything beyond the basics of the Gospel. The writer of the book (likely Paul) urges them in chapter six to step it up and start pursuing maturity. One sign of that maturity is loving God by loving and serving other believers. Hebrews 6:11 reads, "Our great desire is that you will keep on loving others as long as life lasts, in order to make certain that what you hope for will come true."

I am pretty good at digging in and searching out some deep truths of God's Word. In fact, sometimes I get so wrapped up in these "deeper" things that I have to remind myself to go back and look just at Jesus. But when I read in Hebrews 6 that maturity shows up in how we love each other...well, then I have a little trouble. Because, like I said, I like rules and I like people who play by the rules. So much that I forget that my Christian brothers and sisters are real people: imperfect, struggling with sin just the way I am.

Hebrews 6:11 says that I need to focus on loving others as long as I live in order to make certain that what I hope for (salvation) will come true. This would be easy to use to distort the Gospel of Grace, taking the burden of salvation on ourselves, but that's not what the author is getting at here. Instead, he is saying that our love for people will be an indication of what's going on in our hearts. Galatians 5:22 says that when the Holy Spirit is guiding your life, He will produce in you fruit – evidence – of His presence. Love is part of that fruit. Thus, a life abundant in love for others is evidence of a life governed by the Holy Spirit, Who is God's guarantee of our inheritance of eternal life (Ephesians 1:14), and a life governed by the Holy Spirit is one that is constantly striving for deeper spiritual maturity. And so it makes a full circle.

I will probably always be a person who likes rules. But I am learning to live my life by only two: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength;" and "Love your neighbor as yourself." And in this, I pray I begin to look less like a Pharisee and more like my Savior.

By Angela Clark Logan, My Heart Ministry

[Judy Harder]

4 Tips for Vacationing With Your Family
Jul 18, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


When I was growing up, we didn't take vacations. I think we went camping once and we took day trips to Brown County. (And yes, it was just as exciting as the Hecks made it look in The Middle – you've gotta love Indiana entertainment.)


Taking legit vacations started when I got married.

We go to the beach every summer and stay for free at my husband's family condo.

We recently went to the mountains and stayed in a tent.

We even went to Disney World once.

But I'm not the most organized person when it comes to packing or planning. So if you want to read vacation tips on traveling long distances with littles, go ahead and read this post by Tsh because she is the expert. Or if you are a single girl, come back here tomorrow and Annie will share some tips on vacationing with your friends.

I'm not so great at offering details on how to pack or where to stay or how to keep your kids happy in the car. But I have spent a fair amount of time considering the things of the deeper life. And I have traveled enough with my family to know that the soul doesn't take time off just because it's time for a family vacation.

Here are four tips to prepare your soul for some unending time of fun, chaos, memories, and rest.

1. Leave your mindless obsessions at home.

No matter where you go, the list-making, future-looking whir will follow you. You can sit outside a bakery on a street in Paris and be miserable for all the noise in your head. You can watch the calm ocean waters and the deep blue sky as they mock you with all their peace and quiet. You can breathe in the deep mountain air right along with your worries.

It isn't the place that brings peace. You have to bring peace with you.

And that means leaving your mindless obsessions – the insecurity over that project you're working on, the fear about the outcome of the inspection, the awkward conversation you had with the dog-sitter on your way out the door – these you have to leave at home and are only as big as we make them.

Vacation isn't just to vacate a place, but to rest from the whirring in your head, the running list and the constant looking to the future.

You have to fight for slow, and sometimes the fight looks like sitting on the rug with a deck of Go Fish cards.

2. Choose a breath prayer before you go.

If you're traveling with your kids, especially if they are very small and need you to be constantly engaged, the chances of you having any time alone to pray on vacation are slim to none. Babies still have to be fed in the middle of the night no matter if the ocean is right outside the window.

For me, having a prayer that fits the rhythm of my breathing is a life-line during stressful times, vacations included.

Brennan Manning's prayer was Abba, I belong to you. The seven syllables fit perfectly with the natural rhythm of breath. Mine is a bit longer, taken from a prayer by Ted Loder, Lord Jesus, Gather me now to be with you.

I don't have to stop, close the door, or even leave the chaos to pray these words. But they give me something to ground me, words to wrap my soul around.

Ruth Haley Barton says this about the breath prayer in her book, Sacred Rhythms:

"The breath prayer . . . does not come primarily from the mind, which is where most of our words come from; the breath prayer arises from the depths of our desire and need. It is powerful because it is an expression of our heart's deepest yearning coupled with the name for God that is most meaningful and intimate for us at this time."

Take a little time before you leave town and discover your own breath prayer for this particular season of your life.

3. Get at least one photo with the whole family in it (including you).

Can't afford to travel with your own personal photographer? Don't want your kids to look back at your photo albums years from now and wonder why Daddy was the only parent who loved them because Mommy never went on vacation with them – clearly because you weren't in any of the photos?


This one is a little more practical, but for me it's important. Photos help me to see, to remember, and to tell the story of the times my family has had together over the years.

Find reflective surfaces – mirrors, windows, the glass at the top of the lighthouse – and take a family picture with you in it. I try to do this every place we visit.

4. Pack a light heart.

I'm terrible at this. I tend to predict gloomy futures at the first sign of trouble - She's throwing up? In the back seat? Right now?! - And I immediately predict our entire vacation will be spent sharing germs and puking on the beach.

But my gloomy predictions rarely (if ever) come true, at least not to the extent I fear they will.

Take the moments handed to you, each one as they come. Let the sun highlight your hair. Let the minutes pass as you sit and watch them play. Stand with your feet in the grass and your face to the wind, close your eyes and breathe in deep.

You have this one moment in this place with them. Resist the urge to rush into the future to tackle problems that haven't happened yet.

Do you have any tips for vacationing with your family?




Dandelion Os {And When You Can't Find The Words}
Jul 18, 2013 01:10 am | Ruth Povey


He fell asleep midway through blowing seeds from a dandelion clock.  Twenty-months-old and strapped into his pushchair, his lips were fluff-covered and forming an O.  I stopped mid-walk to adjust his seat, to lie him down and tuck him in cozy.  Careful, I eased the dandelion stalk from his mischievous hand.

You wouldn't know that an hour earlier, I'd lost him in our huge church building.  Clearing away after toddler group, I'd glanced up frequently between throwing toys into boxes – then suddenly he was gone.  I'd scanned the room, as my slightly-nervous walk became a crazy-lady run and I'd blurted out 'blue and yellow checked shirt' at everyone and anyone.

I ran down corridors and up stairs – did I mention the building is huge? – and checked cupboards and even braved the men's toilets but nothing.  Fearing the very worst and forgetting how to breathe, I scoured the car park and all I could pray was please.  All I could think was how scared he would be and he'd been so clingy that morning and was he crying his baby heart out?

But they'd found him – the other mothers, who would never stop looking when a small boy was missing – so I was falling apart in the car park and he was being retrieved from behind a tech desk.  The boy who spends every waking moment trying to get close to laptops and wires had found himself in his element.

The same boy who scribbled black biro on my white leather sofa before eight in the morning and the same boy asleep mid-dandelion O in the afternoon.

Sometimes we can't find the words to pray and we're so desperate, so frantic, that elaborate prayers and words just fail us.  All I'd had was please and even if I'd not had that, my spirit would have cried out and doesn't Jesus hear and feel that?  Doesn't he know how we're crumbling and tell it to the Father?

If you don't have the words and all you can form is a dandelion O, it's okay.  It's okay that you don't even know what to pray for and all you know is who you're crying out to.  Jesus intercedes and He's calling out on your behalf.  You're frantic, but He's already working on it and you haven't even asked, but He's heard.

And He knows just what to make of your dandelion Os.

By Ruth Povey – {learning one day at a time}

[Judy Harder]

Vacation Tips for the Single Ladies
Jul 19, 2013 01:20 am | Annie Downs


In May, seven girlfriends and I caught a cheap flight to the beach for a three day mini-vacation.

Let me explain the science of why we fly versus drive, so as for you to not just consider us spoiled brats. Nashville to 30A, the panhandle strip of Florida where we like to go, is about a seven hour drive directly south (which we have done, multiple times). With seven girls total, and all our junk, that would have been two cars worth of gas driving seven hours. So we leave Nashville at 8am, we're there by 4pm.

The flight? Leaves Nashville at 8am and lands at 9:15am.

So for close to the same cost, you are at the beach by 10am.... instead of the driving option which, at 10am, has you passing through Huntsville, AL, home of Space Camp and astronaut ice cream, but no ocean view.

You get it. We flew.

We are all single career women in our late 20s/early 30s and while we have a lot of fun in our Nashville lives, we also are busy and stressed and hard working.

We needed a break. To read. To nap. To tan. To bike. To just be.

For single gals, it can be hard to prioritize vacation in your budget or calendar. Sure, your job may give you days off, but you want to visit family or reorganize your house or stay in town because none of your friends may have the same vacation days and vacationing alone isn't necessarily the most fun. (Though I'm sure it can be a good time, I'm 100% extravert, so being alone is rarely the choice I make.)

But since Valentine's Day, since this same crew of girls cooked a delicious dinner together, we'd been planning to celebrate Lyndsay's 30th birthday at the beach.

And we had the absolute best time.

. . . . .

I learned a lot about what makes for a successful vacay with the gals on that weekend and so I thought I'd share those thoughts with you:

This is not a go-big-or-stay-home situation. If you want to keep your budget tight, hop on VRBO.com and find some cute place to stay in a nearby town or even in your own town!

Plan way in advance. If your friend group is anything like mine, we get full calendars quickly. So by putting a May vacay on the calendar in February, it was blocked off early and nobody double-booked or had to back out.

Serve each other. One of the sweetest parts of our trip was that everybody chipped in to help clean and cook and drive and etc. It certainly made for low stress and high appreciation of our friend group.

Don't pressure. Everyone does not have to snorkel and don't judge a gal if she naps every day. Unless y'all are doing a vacation bus tour across Italy (I'm jealous), then everyone should be allowed, at some degree, to move at their own pace.

Prepare your budget. You know who you don't want to be? The girl who stays home from dinner because you don't want to spend that kind of money. Your group needs to discuss ahead of time what kind of budget you plan to spend and you need to set aside that moola.

Unplug. Don't live your vacation on instagram or Facebook. Live it over hot chocolate around a bonfire or on a pack of bicycles or eating ice cream by the pool. LIVE it. Be present for your friends.

. . . . .

Don't let being single hold you back from vacation. Make some calls and some reservations and some plans and get outta town this summer!

What other tips do you have for vacationing as a single gal?

By the way, Emily Freeman shared her vacation tips for families yesterday. Check it out!

by Annie Downs




In which our recipes carry our stories – and the scent of garlic
Jul 19, 2013 01:00 am | Sarah Bessey



Bread & Wine Guest Post #4
I didn't cook a lot as a teenager. It wasn't for lack of trying on my mother's part. I simply wasn't that interested in cooking (however, my interests did include: writing bad poetry, reading classic literature, eating sour candy, listening to 90s hip hop, and making out with boys). When I moved away from home at eighteen, I subsisted on the university cafeteria's vast cereal bar and whatever could be heated up in my hot pot. After three years of macaroni, ramen noodles and canned soup, like most students, I was nearly pickled with salt.

My then-fiancé/now-husband graduated when we were 21 and moved into an apartment with one of his best friends. So we cooked almost every night, playing house and feeling quite sophisticated and grown-up.

However, we quickly discovered everything we cooked was unbelievably garlicky. We finished our spaghetti and our mouths would be burning. After an attempt at my mother's Caesar salad, I could smell garlic coming from my pores. Our breath stank so badly, it was the best deterrent for hanky-panky that any abstinence-only educator could have dreamed up. We could NOT figure out what the problem was. We were following the recipes exactly!

One day, after weeks – literally weeks - of the Great Garlic Stink of Y2K, we happened to catch a a cooking show on television.  Before our dumbfounded eyes, the chef picked up a clove of garlic (or what we thought was a clove....can you see where this is going?) and peeled off two or three of the little buds on it.

THAT is a clove?

We thought a clove of garlic was, you know, the WHOLE BULB of garlic.

So if a recipe called for four bulbs of garlic, we were putting in four entire cloves of garlic.

Think about that for a moment.

On the bright side, we were incredibly healthy for a few weeks there.

Nearly fourteen years later, we can't use make Caesar salad without a smirk and a reminder to "only use a clove now, not the whole bulb."

That's the fun of cooking over the years, perhaps: the family stories for each recipe. We figure out which recipes we love, which ones aren't fun to make, which ones were a disaster from start to finish. As the years pass, we know which recipes make for good leftovers, which ones the tinies will actually eat, which ones work for quick family meals on a weeknight.

As we grow into our communities, we swap our recipes and the stories that accompany them.
My own recipe box is filled with scribbled cards from my grandmothers and aunties, my mother and my mother-in-law, my friends and my neighbours. I think that's part of why I loved Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist. She honoured the stories of our everyday meals – the community where they were born, the family where they showed up on week night tables, the times when the food nourished and satisfied, and invites us to remember our own stories.

I have a tiny wooden box filled with recipes, yes, but it's also a tiny box of my stories and traditions, our family's gatherings and laughter, our disasters and victories, our sorrows and our ministry to each other.  When I cook, I'm part of a lineage of good work and good memory. The recipes in my little box become more dear with each preparation. Part of how we love each other in a family is by gathering around the table and storytelling through our shared laughter and tears, disasters and victories about the food on our table. At the top of that list in our house: there is, in fact, a difference between a clove of garlic and a bulb of garlic.

Your turn: Tell us about a cooking disaster (because misery {in the kitchen} loves company!).
By Sarah Bessey



And today's Second Helping!
Feasts and Fasting
I've gone to bed every night with my Bread and Wine Audio Book reading itself to me over my iPhone.

So the words about community and life, the glorious relationship between breaking bread and pouring wine and thanksgiving have been my lullaby each night. I drift on my pillow, head sunk deep and restless to this notion of tasting life and the constant battle I have with food as idol and enemy.

And I think I want to make time in my life for setting the table. For making a place and carving out space to invite people in, but then do I really? Because I feel I am at capacity now.

And sometimes I think my tastebuds have failed me. That in the midst of the everyday I have failed to savor. That the rush and appetites of my life have more to do with frantic filling than with letting the aroma of the good things settle on my tongue and linger. That even my relationships skim at the surface of things as the opposition of the urgent makes me rush past blurred faces.

I bulge at the seams of this overstuffed pace. The frantic tyranny of what must be done. I have never found balance. I live a lopsided existence tilting full scale into whatever I'm passionate about at the moment. And maybe that's okay. Maybe balance in some sense is a myth. Maybe multitasking is nothing more than spreading thin what could be plumbed deeper if only given more time to accomplish it.

I think of slowing and savoring. I think of the parking lots with fast food bags and binges and shame in the greasy fingered stains on my soul, empty containers of ice cream dripping down the sides onto my night table and the ache that never fills. I think of secrecy and shame every time I think of the glorious pleasure of food.

Because you see, I am a fat girl.

* * * * * *

Oh, friends–you simply must continue reading Feasts and Fasting
by Alia Joy over at her site Narrow Paths to Higher Places.

[Judy Harder]

A Sunday Scripture
Jul 21, 2013 01:20 am | incourage



Photo by Dawn Huczek
I thank my God every time I remember you.
In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy
because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now,
being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you
will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

It is right for me to feel this way about all of you,
since I have you in my heart
and, whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel,
all of you share in God's grace with me.
God can testify how I long for all of you
with the affection of Christ Jesus.

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more
in knowledge and depth of insight,
so that you may be able to discern what is best
and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ,
filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes
through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.
Philippians 1:3-11