(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Christ is Risen; He is Risen Indeed!

Apr 08, 2012 incourage

John 20

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. 2 So she came running to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, and said, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put him!"

3 So Peter and the other disciple started for the tomb. 4 Both were running, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5 He bent over and looked in at the strips of linen lying there but did not go in. 6 Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, 7 as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. 8 Finally the other disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. 9 (They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.)

10Then the disciples went back to their homes, 11but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb 12and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus' body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

13They asked her, "Woman, why are you crying?"

"They have taken my Lord away," she said, "and I don't know where they have put him." 14At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

15"Woman," he said, "why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?"

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him."

16Jesus said to her, "Mary."

She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, "Rabboni!" (which means Teacher).

17Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"

18Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: "I have seen the Lord!" And she told them that he had said these things to her.



Be the one to BE the one
Apr 07, 2012  Robin Dance


"To live a life alone with God does not mean that we live it apart from everyone else. The connection between godly men and women and those associated with them is continually revealed in the Bible...."
~ Oswald Chambers

We talk a lot about friendship on (in)courage–the need for it, hurting from a void of it, healing from the ministry of it and sometimes to offer advice for the care and keeping of it.

Maybe it's a silly thing to bring attention to, but did anyone else happen to notice that in(RL) ~ a celebration of friendship and community ~ is the same month as Easter this year?  Within weeks of ~

remembering the sacrifice, torture and murder of the King of Kings...

rejoicing in our forgiveness, redemption and salvation...

exalting in his Resurrected Life and Glory, the means to which gives us new life...eternal life...real life

we'll gather together as sisters to celebrate the joys of friendship in real life.

"Real life" always means something that matters, doesn't it?
Having been plucked out of my comfort zone to land in a place that has taken a while to regain my equilibrium, God has me in a position to listen and learn.  I'm thrilling to this experience of new country and culture, but I'm equally thankful to see personal things I've been missing for years.  God is gently revealing my blindspots; change is unavoidable.

I'm learning to appreciate the women in my life in new ways.
Don't miss that key word–appreciate.  It is much too easy to take for granted those you love; I'm challenged to become more intentional in expressing my appreciation to others.

One of the best ways I can think of to actionize my appreciation (OH YES I just made up a word!  Bam!) is by initiating acts of friendship. Don't we all appreciate it when someone else is the first one to extend a gesture of friendship?   So I'm asking you to join me in getting better at being the one to initiate. Especially because that person you're thinking about doing something for is possibly desperately needing you to reach out.

Are you willing to be the one to BE the one?
Here are a few ideas to get you started; I'd love to hear your suggestions for how we can practically speak friendship and love into the lives of those very real people in our lives!

22 Acts of Friendship
Start with yourself. It isn't irony that prompts me to encourage self evaluation; discovering more about how and why I've related to others the way I do is the first step to me addressing my blind spots and becoming the better friend I'd like to become.
Pray.  While I don't want to over-spiritualize practicality, praying is also first-step friendship initiation.  Prayer should be two-fold:  asking God to give you a sensitive heart, communion with Him to heal your own wounds, and discernment to pursue healthy friendships; and seeking God to have the eyes to see those who need your friendship and to prepare their hearts to receive it.
Forgive.  If you're holding a grudge or have become embittered towards a friend, you do not have a choice; you must extend forgiveness. With both hands clutched tightly to Christ, believe more than He can heal your shattered pieces; trust that He can redeem and restore what was broken and lost.  Dear lovie, there is always something good you can take away from painful circumstance.  It will make you a better friend to others if you let it.
Be persistent.  When you take the bold step to initiate friendship, rejection can be hard; don't let it hinder you from trying again.  Yes, while you might become "the one who always initiates," you might be the only person willing to pursue someone who needs pursuing.  And sometimes she's the last person you suspect needs pursuing....
Extend grace. When you consider the incomprehensible sacrifice that God extends to his children through Jesus, it seems reasonable that we should lavish grace on one another.  Imagine how your relationships might change if you give the benefit of doubt rather than suspect the worst?
Show up when you know there's a need. One of the most indelible acts of friendship in my life arrived on my doorstep.  With our impending out-of-state move looming, Michelle showed up with cleaning supplies in hand.  When I answered her knock, "Put me to work" were the first words out of her mouth. That was so much better than a vague "Is there anything I can do to help you?"
Pick up the phone and call. Never have we been more connected, yet paradoxically, increasingly isolated.  Do not email or text or even Skype–just call!  You'll be a rarity among your friends and your voice (i.e. your interest, effort, intention) will register as important to the receiver.
Mail snails.  You know how you feel when you receive a pretty "thinking of you" card or note instead of junk mail or bills?  Imagine committing to sending one out a week; at the end of the year, 52 people would have been encouraged by your thought.  Always act on that prompt!  One time I received a letter from someone I hadn't seen in years, and it was a life-giving answer to prayer.
Shower your friends with surcies or little love gifts.  You don't need to spend a lot of money to give a small but meaningful gift; my favorite example to explain this concept is when my college roommate bought me the good, soft tissues when I had a cold and was using dorm toilet paper to blow my nose.  Her thoughtfulness spoke love so deeply I've remembered the gesture for decades.  Shocking is the beauty in a roadside bouquet of (free) wildflowers! (Thank you, God.)  Thoughtfulness is always the gift.
Babysit for free.  If you know someone who needs a break, give 2-3 hours so they can run errands, see a movie, walk in the park without wiping noses or behinds or tying shoes!
Be fully present.  When you're together, leave your phone behind.  If that isn't practical (i.e., your children's school might call), resist the urge to do anything related to social media.
Listen actively.  This, in part, goes with #11, but rather than anticipate your response let your friend speak until they're done.  If you pay attention you'll notice how often people cut one another off mid-sentence.
Double a recipe.  Whether your baking cookies, simmering soup or making a casserole, be intentional about making enough to share every once in a while.  Then phone a friend, tell them you were thinking about her, and drop it off.  We often do a great job of preparing meals in time of need, but why not do so "just because"?
Drop in for a quick visit. Now, before you strike this one off your list, give it a chance (~smile~).  If you're in a friend's neighborhood, why don't you throw caution to the wind, knock on her door, hug her neck, and tell her you were just thinking about her.  If she invites you in, great; if she doesn't, her house is probably a disaster zone (which all most of us have experienced before).  Assure her you aren't staying but you wanted to let her know how you felt.  It will leave a loving impression.
Trade shoes. When you find yourself making judgments against or frustrated with a friend's actions, train yourself to consider what prompted her choices.  Remember, you only know part of her story, she's likely a master at hiding her pain.
Tell the truth.  Be the friend who tells you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.  I can receive constructive criticism if it's shrouded in love and I KNOW the person cares enough about me to say hard things.
Bite your tongue.  Stop gossiping about others behind their backs unless it's to praise their walk, their works or their womanhood.  Make your goal to be the person whom it can be said of, "I've never heard her talking about anyone else."
Don't take it personally.  Seek and develop healthy friendships that allow room for dissenting opinions.  I recently joined others in a spirited but respectful conversation about a very controversial topic; I left the conversation unmoved in my position but having high regard for those who offered an intelligent, mature discussion on the matter.
Look for middle ground. Wonderful advice offered to me years ago from a pastor's wife has helped me time and time again: When you find yourself in the center of a "fight," even if you're certain you're "right," realize there's your side of the story, there's her side of the story...and the truth lies somewhere in between.
Sharpen.  Be intentional about becoming a Proverbs 27:17 friend.
Set a standard.  Goodness–if we all lived Ephesians 4:29-32, we'd all truly be THE BFF!
Support.  When my father passed away a few years ago, I was deeply touched by those who traveled hours to attend his funeral, people who never met him but loved me.  At my daughter's high school graduation, I couldn't believe the friends who came to a party we hosted for her.  It taught me to support my friends by attending the important events in their lives...the good and the not so good.
I could keep going but I'm interested in hearing from you!  Would you share a specific example of a sweet friendship gesture that was unexpectedly extended to you?   I'd love to hear your practical suggestions to add to this list.

Tomorrow we celebrate real life in the victory of our King. As I end this love letter to you, I'm praying specifically for you to find hope and healing only in Him, and then to share the love that pours forth to the people He brings into your life.

Dare to be the one to BE the one!

With love from Robin, who day by day is learning to be a better friend. Happy Easter!

[Judy Harder]

Sixty minutes an hour

Apr 09, 2012 01:20  Tsh Oxenreider

"Okay, now you're the teacher, and I'm the student." The next-door girls are over and the kids are playing school in the living room. I'm in the kitchen, eavesdropping.

"But now I want to pretend like I'm 19 years old," Tate announces.

"But this is third grade. This isn't high school," her friend reminds her. They discuss Act Two of their game for a bit, and decide to correct course onward to the teenage years. They're still in math class, discussing three plus four. But now Tate can walk herself to school.

She's been like this most of her life, wishing she were older. I remember standing on the balcony of our apartment overseas, discussing her wedding and honeymoon plans. She was four. She also reminds me weekly that when she becomes a teenager, she would like a hot pink laptop.

I was like this, too—in a darn hurry to hurry up with life. In elementary school, I couldn't wait to walk the halls of middle school. By seventh grade, I was ready for my freshman year of high school. And by junior year, I was mentally decorating my first college apartment.

And of course, you know that by the fourth semester of college, I was wondering who I was going to marry. Those entry-level science classes made it easy to space out and mentally plan my bridesmaids' bouquets. Whoever they'd end up being.

I didn't marry right out of college, naturally. I went abroad for a bit, and it's a good thing I did, because that's where I met Kyle. But even there, I'd reminisce about the next step—coming home, getting married. I loved cross-cultural life, but I still yearned for the future. For the next thing.

During our pre-marital counseling, we predicted we'd wait about five years to have children. Of course, Tate was born a few months after our second anniversary.

"The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." -CS Lewis

When I became a parent, life started speeding by much faster. A child is born, I blink, and he's crawling. I turn my head, and then he's walking, talking, having opinions. And I hear from those a few years ahead of me that it'll continually speed by at an alarming rate.



And yet, I still yearn for the day when there are no more diapers to change. When all my kids can read to themselves. When the walls aren't splattered with the evening's dinner.

But really? That's exchanging one gift for another. These days I have now, they are precious, just like the ones I'll have in a few years. Wishing them away is to miss the beauty right in front of me, encrusted countertop and all.

"We steal if we touch tomorrow. It is God's." -Henry Ward Beecher

Of course, we hope for heaven. We have good things waiting for us, and it's good to wait eagerly for them. But we miss out on His gifts for RIGHT. NOW. if we wish for the next gift more than giving thanks for today's.



Tate's now playing LEGO, happy to be seven again. Her friends are discussing the benefits of having a household robot. Her younger brother runs into the room, because he has an opinion on the matter, too. The day is glorious, so in a few minutes, I think I'll kick them out to the backyard, where they frequently play bakery, build forts, and wash their bikes.

"Children have neither past nor future; they enjoy the present, which very few of us do." -Jean de la Bruyere

May they savor today, and enjoy the bounty of childhood. And may I take notes.

What are you savoring TODAY?

By Tsh, Simple Mom


To Come Alongside.
Apr 09, 2012  Caryn Poling


"Don't panic, I'm in the emergency room – I hurt my back and neck..."

... The text message read, from my Navy daughter in San Diego, CA on December 10, 2011.  I live in Florida.  A whole country apart.

Moms, can you imagine the images that bounced through my mind at the time?

I could see her paralyzed from the neck down, strapped to a back board, never to move again.  Which, now that I think about it, was silly since she just sent me a text? :-/

As it happened, I was talking with a dear friend, Deb, after our women's ministry breakfast.  I had my phone set on silent but I felt this urgency to check it.  The text had just come in a couple of minutes prior.

Deb looked at me; I think she could see the "panic" on my face.  I showed her the text message and as we sat there she took both of my hands into hers and began to pray.  I was also able to share this with my other friends at the event that morning.

And my friends came alongside me in support and in prayer.

"All praise to the God and Father of our Master, Jesus the Messiah! Father of all mercy! God of all healing counsel! He comes alongside us when we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us. We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of his healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too." 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 (MSG)

Oh and how Gods perfect timing so amazes me.  At a time I needed my friends, godly women, I was right smack dab in the middle of them.  When my daughter needed comfort and healing the beautiful voices of my girlfriends were lifting me and my child up before the throne of God.

Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians we are going to have trouble, times of  tears and fears and heartache, "hard times".

But isn't wonderful that we have a loving God,  who WANTS to be there for us, to give us comfort and to hold us.

I love the way He will bring just the right person to my side at just the right time I need her the most.

How she is able to love on me, comfort me with words and prayers and hugs and time, because she has been there.

And then after He brings me through those times of hardship, heartache and pain, He promises to bring me alongside someone else in pain and heartache.

Someone for me to love on as He loves me.

Someone who needs comfort with words and prayers and hugs and time, because I have been where she is now.

What ever you are going through today...

My prayer for you is that you have a godly girlfriend.  If not seek her out, you need her and she needs YOU!

If you need prayer today, comment here and I and others will pray for you.

"...We have plenty of hard times that come from following the Messiah, but no more so than the good times of his healing comfort—we get a full measure of that, too."

My daughters' injury turned out to be a severe muscle spasm in her neck.  Possibly from just over doing it or tension, she is a very active child and works out vigorously, she also has a very stressful job.  Praising God!!!
Caryn Poling – a disposable woman

[Judy Harder]

Comparison Will Kill Your Joy Every Time

Apr 10, 2012 01:20  Kristen Welch


I closed my computer and smiled. Joyful.

Skyping with our Mercy House staff in Kenya is part of my weekly routine and some days we deal with very hard issues. But today was full of great news and it was hard not to feel content with all God was doing.

It was time to pick up my kids from school, so I shifted back into Mom mode. I sat down at the familiar picnic table and waited for the bell to ring. The other moms, mostly acquaintances, were talking about their Spring Break plans just days away. I listened. And the more I heard their elaborate plans of lake houses, ski trips, and Disney vacations, the quieter I became.

Someone asked me what we were planning. Two hours before I felt good about our decision to stay home and do nothing. Relax and just be together. And now, as I said it, I felt a lot less, um, joy.

I mentally reminded myself that my hubby doesn't have vacation days since we use them to go to Africa in the summer and pretty much any vacation money we save is for the same trip.

The conversation around me skipped to gorgeous craft rooms and dining room makeovers and microdermabrasian.

And I found myself silently wishing the school bell would ring before I started comparing my craft box to their craft rooms. I absentmindedly touched my face and wondered if I was a candidate for a chemical peel.

Who am I anyway?

Just like that, a heavy cloud hung over me and my perspective shifted to all I didn't have.

How can I go from being joyfully content  one minute to feeling sorry for myself the next?

Comparison is a killjoy: it will steal every ounce of contentment in your heart. It will rob you of perspective and leave you feeling empty.

When I compare my clothes, my house, my life to others, I always end up shorthanded. Comparison leaves you feeling defeated and unworthy. Comparison kills joy.

I found a quiet place at home (okay, I hid in the garage while my kids ate Popsicles in the backyard) and I had a serious talk with myself. I stared at the picture above and my perspective returned. I asked God for forgiveness and I rested in the contentment that comes from being okay with yourself.  I'm chasing God, not this world.

Now, this isn't about dream vacations or cute craft rooms, or any other item or event in this world. There's a time and season for all of it (except I'm not so sure about skin peels. Ouch). It's simply about being content in all things.

We can all find people to compare ourselves too. Prettier, richer, better people.

But nothing snatches away our joy quicker.

Instead of comparing our lot with that of those who are more fortunate than we are, we should compare it with the lot of the great majority of our fellow humans.  It then appears that we are among the privileged.       -Helen Keller

True contentment is found at His feet. It is joy unspeakable.

Keys to finding true contentment (and keeping it!):

Perspective:: We compare by nature, but often to people whom we perceive have better lives. The grass is always greener mentality will only leave us feeling like bad gardeners.
Gratitude:: I find joy in being thankful for all He has given me. Even if sometimes it's smaller and not as fancy as others. True joy is a reflection of a thankful heart. And in Him, I have it all–everything that matters.
Recognition:: Every good and perfect gift comes from our Father from God.
Joy is what happens when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.   – Marianne Williamson

Don't let comparison steal your joy. Join me in defeating this enemy today!

by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family

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Upcycled: Reused for Purpose

Apr 10, 2012  Sarah Markley

"Mama. Don't throw that away!" My ten-year-old points to a flimsy lid of an old box.

"Hand it to me! I'm going to use it. Actually I'm going to recycle it."

I see her, with colored pencils and art markers in fists and a large book tucked under one arm. She reaches for the box lid with her other free elbow.

As a mother, I'm in the constant process of picking up and putting-in-proper-place all things that are out of place. The way a mother can "sweep" a bedroom or downstairs of clutter {when she puts her mind to it} is quick and painless. With speed, I'd been grabbing and collecting the things that needed to get put in order before we began our evening routine.

This is where she stopped me.

I know she'd been hard at work on a fantastical map over the past few evenings, recently trading her nighttime reading hour for one spent curled over art paper up in her loft bed, auburn hair sweeping the page.

Recycle it?

I knew she wasn't going to "recycle" it in the way we term it. We put bottles and cardboard at the curb on Monday mornings for the city to whisk them away to some far off reclaiming plant. Or maybe if we are enterprising, we dutifully take our bottles and cans to the center where we are given small change for our efforts.

Either way, this isn't the kind of recycling Hope was talking about.

She was going to turn it into her map. She was going to create worth out of something that was worthless.

She was going to draw valleys, rivers, houses, mountains and then with her amazing ideas name them each. She'd pull from the Chronicles of Narnia, the Wizard of Oz and a few horse books she's read and mishmash words together to create new ones.

She was going to create an entire world on the back of a box lid.

We call it "upcycling" when we use something old and valueless and construct new value with it. We click through Pinterest to figure out how to turn old baby cribs into parlor benches. We recycle our paper and cardboard and pray that our old mail will somehow find their way into post-consumer-waste napkins.

And then we feel good that we've found a new use for something. But God is always recycling hurts to bring growth, upcyclying hard experiences to create understanding and redeeming the old to make the beautiful. And it's more than just that. It's about being made completely new through Jesus.

The Redeemed collection is about Jesus Christ, the work He's doing in us and how we express that to the world.  It speaks of how we see the pieces of our lives as used up, messy, or disconnected, but God uses all the pieces together to make something beautiful. If you're hosting an (in)spired deals review, link it up below!

[Judy Harder]

Confessions of a Hesitant Host

Dawn Camp



Months ago when (in)RL was announced, it seemed so far in the future. Plenty of time to plan. Plenty of time to clean. Plenty of time to morph into the hostess with the mostess.

So I bravely signed up. Of course I would host! No problem!

But guess what? Now it's April and I haven't done much planning, I haven't done much cleaning, and I can promise you that I will not be the (in)RL hostess with the mostest. I feel queasy just thinking about it.

You see, I have hosting issues. My inner perfectionist whispers that the menu should be themed and so mouth-watering that guests beg for the recipes; my home should be pristine, from the bathrooms to the baseboards; conversation should flow smoothly as I perform introductions and make everyone feel welcome.

Reality, however, looks more like this: our yard has been invaded by clover this spring; everything in my house is covered with a layer of Georgia pollen; books, maps, and my kids' art projects are stacked everywhere. With ten of us living here and a busy schedule, I'm not sure things will improve before April 28.

The truth is, I'm a haphazard and therefore somewhat hesitant host; I never seem to have my act together on time. All of these scenarios have happened:

Guests walk in on wet floors that I've mopped moments before their arrival.
I've forgotten to add key ingredients to recipes.
I've emerged from the bathroom wearing rubber gloves and carrying a bottle of household cleaner, only to realize that guests are already in the house.
I invited four couples to our house for supper at six o'clock, but I thought I'd told them seven.
Initially, my guests end up in the kitchen, because I can't remember the last time I finished cooking before they arrived. I'm usually in my apron, sweating, trying to smile and make small talk while frantically chopping and stirring and moving things in and out of the oven.

Sounds hopeless, right?

But here's the thing: as much as I panic over and dread hostessing in advance, once my guests arrive—in spite of the chaos—I love every minute of it (after the rubber gloves have been hidden, of course).

People ask what they can do to help, and suddenly there's a kitchen full of people chopping ingredients and arranging food and drinks. Someone starts washing used mixing bowls and knives. Another takes over the job of door greeter.

I sneak away to put on shoes and lipstick and return to find laughter and many hands making light work. If everything were ready when they arrived, I don't think my guests would feel nearly so comfortable.

I don't have to be perfect, because we all pull it off together.

If you're hostessing an (in)RL event, please don't stress about your floors and your menu—I'm asking everyone to bring an appetizer or dessert to mine. If you're stepping outside your comfort zone and attending an event where you don't know anyone, just jump in and help the hostess. Chances are, she's as nervous as you are.

I can't wait to hear the stories of local community growing from (in)RL meetups all over the world!

Are you hostessing? Do you know anyone at the event you're attending?

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home



The "Roots" of True Beauty
Apr 11, 2012 01:05 am | Christi Milligan


As far as negative reactions went, this one was a doozy. The initial horror had passed, but the wailing from my 14-year-old's bedroom told us that it would be a long time before she would appreciate her new springtime "trim."

There was security in those long tresses – as if the ability to pile, twist and toss her hair offered an outer confidence her inner self hadn't yet mustered. But faster that you can say "overreact," it was gone, and ten-plus inches of strawberry-blond hair lay on the salon floor.

I could relate – sort of.

My own empty box of Revlon #42 lay in the bathroom trash – remnants of my measly attempt to hide the gray that I still blamed on pregnancies, babies and hormones (along with a thicker middle, weak bladder, and chronic inability to remember that hamburger needs to be thawed out more than a half hour prior to dinner).

If I watched long enough, I swore I could see the gray hairs multiplying around my face – a curious thing since my hair was also thinning at the top of my hairline, forcing me to try a youthful yet unnatural "swoop" of my bangs.



There was a new approach to my beauty routine now. I had trashed my coupons for drug store make-up and headed to the mall to become BFFs with the young chippie doling out makeovers. I told my husband that the arrival of my 40s earned me a bigger beauty budget, and that he'd thank me later when strangers would mistake me for his daughter (well maybe much-younger kid sister).

They say that the passage of time turns youth into wisdom.

But I was armed with shopping bags of foolishness trying to arrest the creepy tentacles of time that were pulling down my face. They also formed craggy "laugh lines" that wrongly suggested I'd spent an inordinate amount of time in my 20s and 30s doubled over in hysterics.

This childishness didn't last long. Close girlfriends will tell you the truth, and several refused to tolerate my "I'm-can't-believe-I'm 40"whining. In the course of just a few days, they gave me the verbal slap I needed to jolt me out of my inward focus and force me to look at the truth of God's word.

"Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained by a righteous life." Proverbs 16:31

The real beauty of course, didn't lie in that Revlon box, any more than it did in the pile of hair and tears at the beauty salon. It wasn't in the packages, at the mall, or even my #42 Light Auburn reflection post-dye.
The real beauty is how I'm viewed by my Savior because of what He's done for me. It is how he loves me and how He remains faithful – even when I fret over the "gray."

He knows their numbers, rejoices in my age — particularly the years behind me that I've lived as "His." That is my crown. He rejoices that as "A daughter of the King" I will toss aside the foolishness – sometimes quickly and sometimes not – and come back to what I know to be true.

And what I know is that it is not my own righteousness that enables my Father to see me as beautiful, but Christ's.

These are the lessons that I'm hoping to impart to the young girl weeping across her bed – lessons that transcend the color of the hair, the style, the length.

They are lessons that get to the root, so to speak, of what really matters as a child of God.

By Christi Milligan

[Judy Harder]

Why You Need to Find Community {even when you're really hurting}
Apr 12, 2012  Ann Voskamp




Emmeline Steiss told me that she'd stood in a room full of women, all strangers, and they were all the same.

That's when I looked right into her and I could hear it, what her whole life was saying: no woman can ever heal in a state of loneliness.

Emmeline had lived alone. She had loved her cats. She had once had sisters, long ago. She had driven a mint green Chevrolet to town until they took away her license.

And every Sunday, Mama stopped in at Emmeline's and brought her a banana loaf or a plate of cookies, and I sat beside my sister and we listened to her stories in a house that smelled of ache and time and felines.

Why did it take me half a life to feel this: in the space of the differences that separate us, there can be all this unique, creative strength, and in the places where we overlap, all this unifying certain comfort. What is there to be afraid of?

Emmeline had died alone by the time Mrs. Martin found Mama in the back of church foyer. Back by the coat hangers and children darting between legs, where Mrs. Martin had asked Mama if maybe I'd get together with a group of women weekly?

"No, Beryl, no I don't think so." Mama had just said it straight up. "She's not good here. Not good at all."

The details of what had happened doesn't matter. There are times when leaving things unsaid to most, and mostly said to one, can be the way love covers over a multitude of sins.

All that need be said is that community had about hemmorhaged my heart and I dry heaved to breathe around women. Emmeline could have told me: The shields that protect you can easily become the bars that imprison you.

I can still see her — how Emmeline would pet that cat on her lap, the petting like beckoning someone to come. Like this soothing of her wounds.

The truth of it is, I wanted out.

For years, I wanted out of community.

I didn't want gossip to catch my gizzards and bleed me dry.

I didn't want  insensitivity to numb the last of the feeling places.

I didn't want love to hurt and the truth is that love means to suffer and there's no getting around it.

Someone said that to me once: that loneliness is far better than rejection. True. And being dead is probably far easier than living. I had nodded. I have lived it — the quiet death of it all. And found loneliness to be more injurious than rejection because it can be self inflicted. There is always someone to love.

I told myself that when Flora Mullander floundered and spewed all the wrong words over me and my skin, right there around the tender places, flamed all raw. And when another woman murmured these white lies that stained, and a friend failed, and a whole community of faith fumbled —   That love is a skill that can't be learned in seclusion.

Love is a tree, each person a branch. And a pile of cut off branches doesn't make a tree. Love can only be comprehended in community. You need imperfect people in your life to perfect your practice of love.

There are no solitary saints; all sanctification is forged in community.

That is why I stayed. The chance to love imperfect people is another chance to perfect His love in me. And all the believers are belongers.

You belong in the imperfect pews, you belong in the community that disappoints yet is anointed to keep on pointing to Him who cannot disappoint, you belong to the club of all the failing passing on all His mercy, all the members of the marred sisterhood being impossibly redeemed by love, lit by transparency, perfected by grace.

I had stood one October, at the far end of our lane, and watched a V formation of geese fly straight over Emmeline's.

And I had almost heard it – how their hearts beat slower in community, how together they were doing it, flying further, with must less effort, soaring on the thrust of one another.

When one lone goose falls out of formation, falls hurt and struggling, two more fall out and follow her down. And stay with her until the flying again, until the flying as one arrow again through the sky.

Emmeline had told mama that. That her keeping company with her had kept something inside of her together. And I had felt those broken places in her when she'd said it.

Her petting this congregation of cats there at her feet, and the geese flying somewhere overhead in this perfect gathering of grace.

All calling each other upward and higher on this communal wing.

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15 Reasons To Keep Reaching out Even When You've Been Hurt

1. Christ is the Body and He is Love and both can only exist in community

2. God's people are given the ministry of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5) and reconciliation begins first in our homes, down the street, in this pew, around the corner, in community — or we are ministers of misrepresentation.

3. It's only when you reach out to community that your gifts can be used for the kingdom.

4. Joining and participating in just one group or community this year cuts your odds of dying in half over the next year.

5. Community is only and always what people are: beautiful and broken and utterly redeemable.

6. There are no I-slands in the Kingdom, only His-lands, and the notion of lone rangers is purely bad fiction.

7. The wonder of this: "Don't you know that you yourselves are the temple of the Holy Spirit? ... God's temple is sacred and you are that temple." (1 Cor. 3) We are all the "living stones" of the temple of the Holy Spirit. But if one stone withdraws from the other stones? The "you" in 1 Cor. 13 is plural. Y'all together are the temple of the Holy Spirit; we are a temple of the Holy Spirit together – in community. We need each other, all of us.  And believing is about belonging to a community. It's when we are committed in community that we collectively live it before the world: God is among us.

8. 2000 years of Christianity is founded on the breathtaking living organism of community.

9. Community is healthy for us: "Those with strong social connections but poor health habits (eating, exercise, etc.) are just as healthy as those with good health habits but weak social connections."

10. There are sisters in Christ who have died for gathering together with their sisters — how could I neglect so great a privilege?

11. "Dor" in Hebrew, it means generation. May we be the next generation to go next door, the generation who knows who lives next door, what they need next door, how they ache next door. The Next Christians need to be the generation of Next Door Christians.

12. The Christian life is the compassionate, crucified, cruciformed life. Not the comfortable life. Community is how God shapes His children into the image of Christ.

13. We love Him enough to meet Him where He is — "Where 2 or 3 are gathered there He is..."

14. Love is a tree, each person a branch. And a pile of cut off branches don't make a tree. Love can only be comprehended in community.

15. Every chance to love imperfect people is another chance to perfect His love in me. This is a way to soar.


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~ to you, with love, from Ann Voskamp


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

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Q4U: How has community hurt you? How have you learned to keep reaching out, to keep staying in community? Why does it matter?


How are you flying down with the fallen?

How could you help someone heal in community? How are you practicing the practice of love with imperfect people?


How can we join you in praying for you and those you love to find community?





Email readers and RSS readers – Come join the conversation by clicking here?

[Judy Harder]

For The Mamas Of Preschoolers

Apr 13, 2012  Kristen Strong

"God doesn't expect us to be instant experts at something we've never done before. And he promises to make up the difference."

Scharlotte Rich, The Promise of a Mother's Prayers

I grab granola bars and throw them in my cart. I look up and then I see her, the cute pony-tailed mama pushing two blonde twin boys in a race car shopping cart. And not a one of 'em looks happy, child or mom. One boy complains his brother is hogging the cart space, the other cries when mama says no to more Oreos.

Quick as lightening I rewind ten years, back to pushing a race car shopping cart with my own twin toddlers. I'm doing my best to get the groceries on my list before my two year old boys get the best of me. I referee argument #57 of the morning: who gets to "drive" the race car shopping cart. {Which is extra ridiculous as those little carts have *two* steering wheels. For the love!} I round the corner towards frozen food, praying I keep what loose grip I have on the situation. And right there between the rocky road and moose tracks ice cream, a well meaning older woman says, "Oh, what darling boys you have! Now dear, enjoy every minute of this because it passes so fast. These are the best years of your life!"

"Really?" I lament inside my head. "This is as good as it gets? Well then. I'll need extra ice cream now."

I force a smile to the woman and grab another carton of moose tracks.

My boys are now twelve and my daughter is eight. With those early parenting years in my rear-view mirror, I can tell you they weren't the best years of my life. They were the most exhausting years of my life. Oh, I enjoyed my babies somethin' fierce, and I didn't wish that precious time away. But the days tucked inside those years weren't all dreamy, sunshiney, and Hollywood-y. Some were just plain long and hard. And at that holding-it-all-together-by-a-thread grocery store moment, I needed to hear something that gave me hope.



Here are four truths I wish someone had told my mother-of-preschoolers self:
1. It will get easier. I always think of moms in this stage as being "in the trenches." You are constantly on alert for possible signs of danger and must be ready at a moment's notice to defend your people. As your children become school-aged and older, many challenges fade away. Of course, new, different ones crop up and take their place. But you grow {as a parent} right alongside your babies, so you will be ready to tackle them as they come. And in your not-too-distant future, you will go to the bathroom {mostly} by yourself. You will sleep through the night and enjoy fret-free naps on Sunday afternoons. You will grocery shop without an entourage.

2. Do not buy into false guilt. Of course, healthy guilt is important and part of the repentance process that leads us to ask God's forgiveness. Or, if necessary, our child's forgiveness. But we moms – especially newer moms – are prone to heaping false guilt on ourselves by taking responsibility for things that aren't ours to own. We make mountains out of molehills then drown ourselves in blame. For example, when the boys were in preschool, I forgot about a special "muffins with mom" breakfast I was supposed to attend with them. When they reminded me about it after school, I felt like the worst mom ever. My poor boys had to sit there motherless! They must have felt abandoned! And unimportant! And so on and so on. I turned a little molehill into a mountain and berated myself for basically being human. Nonsense!  I had to learn to let the love of God's truth banish the guilt.

3. Always remember the big picture. Little bodies sometimes hold big personalities, and this is a good thing. Oh, I know, it's sometimes an embarrassing, frustrating thing. Kids with big personalities often move to the beat of their own drum and grip a fierce strong will. I used to dread picking up my boys from Mother's Day Out because I just knew the teacher would approach me with furrowed brows saying, "We need to talk, Mrs. Strong." Today, the boy that required those little 'chats' shows such promise today for being a wonderfully secure, confident grown-up. Oh, we're far from done raising him and we have plenty of kinks to work out, but I have hope. As Lysa says, "Remember, the things that aggravate you about your child today might be the very things when matured that make them great for God's kingdom tomorrow."

4. You're doing better than you think. Take heart, mamas. When my thirtysomething self looks back at my twentysomething self, I see a mama who made plenty of mistakes but did better than she thought at the time. Again, I'm not finished with this parenting gig, and I still have time to add to my kids' therapy. But it's nice to look back with 20/20 vision and see that during the earlier years, many of the things I screwed up and fretted over haven't amounted to a hill of beans. If you love and honor God and spend quality time with your babes, you're a good mama. Give yourself grace and use the times you are plumb exhausted to run straight into the open arms of the Ultimate Parent.

So this morning, I smile empathetically at that tired mama in aisle 12 of the grocery. I can't help but look right in her eyes before saying, "Ya know, this grocery shopping thing will get much easier. Hang in there. You're doing a great job, mama."

And you know what else? You're doing a great job too.

What do you find to be the most challenging part of raising preschoolers? Moms of older kids, how might you encourage one of our sisters who is in the trenches?

Kristen cheering-you-on Strong, Chasing Blue Skies



Adoption is Final
Apr 13, 2012  Daphne Tarango


My husband and I are in the process of adopting. We've finished our 10-week training and last week had our home study. We're one step closer to getting our children!

I've learned many things during training.

There are 107,000 children in foster care waiting to be adopted.
If these children reach adulthood without having been adopted, they will undoubtedly face difficulties coping with life's demands.
Like all children–orphans want love and acceptance from a family–their forever family.
Instead, they are bounced from foster home to foster home, many times for no fault of their own.
If they are matched with a family, the fear still lingers–they might be "sent back."
Truth is... They can't be sent back. Adoption is final.

Dear one, God wants to adopt you.

Because of his love, God had already decided to make us his own children through Jesus Christ. That was what He wanted and what pleased him, and it brings praise to God because of His wonderful grace. God gave that grace to us freely, in Christ, the One He loves (Ephesians 1:5-6).

Isn't this wonderful news? God decided before the foundations of the earth that He wanted us to be His.

He chose us!
He chose me!
He chose you!
But there's another thing I've learned in adoption class: Adoption is a mutual selection. That's right. My husband and I can choose to adopt a child, but that child must also choose to be adopted by us. It's the same with our Heavenly Father. He's already chosen us; all we have to do is choose Him.

Have you chosen to be adopted by Him, my friend? Have you accepted His blessing of love through Jesus Christ and become His daughter? If you have, then celebrate! Your adoption is final!

If you have not accepted His love...
If you have not acknowledged at some specific moment in your life, "Yes, I choose to be adopted by you, God, through Jesus Christ's love on the cross" ...
If you have not made the adoption choice a mutual one...
I invite you to do so.

Once you're part of God's family, you will never be alone. You will never be fatherless. You will never be without His love. You will not be sent back.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39).

Dear one, take this moment to make it mutual. Say a simple, heartfelt prayer to God:

God, I've been fatherless. I've sought love and acceptance in many ways that have grieved you–my Heavenly Father. But no more! Today, I choose to be adopted by you. I choose to be your son–your daughter. I choose to be part of your large family through Jesus Christ. Today, I choose You–my one and only Heavenly Father.


Thank you that I am no longer fatherless. Thank you that I am no longer alone. Thank you for blessing me with brothers and sisters to come alongside me every step of the way. Thank you that even after I die, I will live with you forever.


Thank you for Jesus!


Love, Your new son or daughter.

Congratulations! Your adoption is final!

I hope you will join your new brothers and sisters in a Bible-believing church.

By the way, welcome to the family!

By Daphne Tarango, DaphneWrites – Comfort for the Journey

[Judy Harder]

When Someone Lets You Go Before You are Ready to Say Goodbye

Angela Nazworth

I almost titled this post, The Day a Bank Broke My Heart ... because this story begins with heartache and job loss. Two months ago, one of my bosses asked me if I could spare a few minutes to meet with him. His voice, chipper on the other end of the phone, didn't hint to the solemness of the occasion. Because of a "strategic change in the direction of the company," my position was deemed unnecessary.

I was not the only person in the company to lose her job, but at the moment the news was delivered I felt completely alone.

Discarded. Unwanted. Unworthy.

The fact that the decision was strictly a business move provided little solace for my ache. Instead, my mind reeled backward to a moment from my teen years when I was dumped by my high school boyfriend. Even my boss' good-intentioned words "Angela, we all think the world of you," reminded me of the clichéd "it's not you, it's me," that often accompanies the ritual of ending a relationship.

I think that what makes breakups of any kind — even the corporate types — especially painful is the act of being let go. I remember that shortly after my 17-year-old heart was broken, a song came on the radio with the lyrics "I'll never get over you getting over me." Oh how I sobbed when I heard the song that summed up my sorrow. The pain of the arrow that pierced deep and severed the relationship didn't hurt as much as the poison of rejection in which the arrow was dipped. If not treated, that poison can permeate and destroy.

What also hurt near intolerable about being let go was that I didn't want to let go. I enjoyed my job. I adored my teammates. I saw a season of opportunity on the horizon. I wasn't on board with being cast off. I simply wasn't ready to say goodbye. Yet ready or not, the word goodbye eventually escaped my dry throat.

Honestly, two-months later, my heart still aches ... even though I've moved on. And though I didn't find any comfort from my former employer, I am daily reminded of the love that surrounds me.

There are many to whom I tightly cling ... a community of loving friends who have comforted me with loving prayers, encouraging cards, listening ears ... and ... chocolate. I also find respite in my Savior ... in a God who created me for so much more than a job at a bank ... for so much more than this tattered, battered world.

"For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ." – 2nd Corinthians 1:5 (NASB)


On Meeting Him in the Morning

Apr 15, 2012  Jessica Turner

In February, I attended Blissdom. During the session “Being Present in a Demanding World,” I chatted with a group of women who all had young kids. Universally, everyone struggled with finding time to be still, read their bibles and have dedicated quiet times.

One woman said, “I wake up to a little hand poking my face.”

Another said, “I don’t have any time for myself during the day.”

And each statement was affirmed by nods from the other women at the table – me included.

This season of my life has been dry spiritually. Since my daughter Adeline was born in June 2011, I estimate that I have gotten about 600 less hours of sleep than the average woman should.

It is all I can do to work-full time and take care of my family.

And yet, even in hearing that I was not alone in my lack of quiet times, I felt the Holy Spirit pressing me to make a change.

The week after Blissdom, with the words of those women still fresh in my mind, I made an intentional commitment to pursue the Lord more intentionally. I pulled Streams of the Desert off my bookshelf, along with my Bible, committing to read something every night.

The words of March 1 impacted me.

You cannot expect to be victorious, if the day begins only in your own strength. Face the work of every day with the influence of a few thoughtful, quiet moments with your heart and God. Do not meet other people, even those of your own home, until you have first met the great Guest and honored Companion of your life–Jesus Christ.


Meet Him alone. Meet Him regularly. Meet Him with His open Book of counsel before you; and face the regular and the irregular duties of each day with the influence of His personality definitely controlling your every act.

Did you catch that?

Do not meet other people, even those of your own home, until you have first met the great Guest and honored Companion of your life–Jesus Christ.

Those words caused me to realize how different my days might be if I started them with the one who gave me the day in the first place.

So I am on a journey to change my routine. I am not perfect at it yet.

Some days I choose 15 more minutes of sleep before the baby starts her 6 am cries.

But on the days I say yes to the Holy Spirit’s prompting and I start the day with the Lord, I am a better wife, mother, colleague and friend.

Q: Do you have daily quiet times? Do you have them in the morning? How do they impact you?

[Judy Harder]

How Friendship Heals Our Broken Hearts

Apr 16, 2012 Deidra

For one entire year, when we found ourselves in our new church, I began each Sunday morning with a panic attack. Sitting on the bed with a towel wrapped around me from the shower, I tried to remember how to fill my lungs with air. Sometimes I'd walk across the room and turn on the box fan in the window, or flip the switch to the exhaust fan in the bathroom, all to drown out the sound of my heart pounding loud in my ears.

I'd been down this road before, and every time I'd had my heart stepped on by women who shared my faith in Jesus and who loved him big time and for real. Every time, it caught me off guard and sucked the air out, leaving me flat and empty. And sore.

I don't know why we break each other the way we do. I don't know why I allow a careless word to slip through my lips and hang there in the air, knowing the way it slinks between and settles in and crumbles into shards of glass. How can I not see how thin the line between the way things can be and the way I let things be?

We carry the glory of God in earthen pots with dirt caked on and death trying to get comfortable in the darkness where the roots are tender, and He trusts us to let Him shine through all the broken places. He knows how prone we are to wander – to crush and be crushed. And He has this uncanny way of bringing glory out of ashes, grace transforming dis-grace, healing banishing dis-ease.

Eventually, I found a way through those panic attacks. I opened up my heart to women over coffee or tea or a good book. I kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet under me at the end of the sofa and leaned in to hear the stories other women shared. And eventually, my heart got stepped on because that's what happens. It's true.

But also? This heart, all tender and broken and split wide open, has been filled with breath and life and hope – hoisted on the shoulders of women who love well with bruised hearts of their own.The good with the bad, and God right there in it, working it all for His good.

I have this tender, broken heart – split wide open, and filled with breath and life and hope.

Won't you share with us in the comments today about a friend who has helped redeem your view of friendship? We'd love to hear your stories?


Freaked Out But Faithful
Apr 16, 2012  Stephanie Shott


Costa Rica? That's not at all what I had in mind!

For seven years my heart heard drums pounding in the distance, lions lying in wait for their prey and Swahili spoken in villages full of precious people in need of Christ. My heart and prayers had taken root in Africa but my reality was beginning to look very different from the vision planted long ago.

I knew God was calling us to the mission field seven years before my husband heard the call. Day after day I cried out to God to place on my husband's heart the same passion He had placed on mine. At times the burden was too much to bear.

But one day, in the midst of the ordinary, God interrupted my husband's heart with the call and everything changed. Like a snowball down a steep hill, our circumstances began to point in an entirely different direction than I had anticipated. It would be Costa Rica where we would begin our journey as missionaries.

I have to admit I began to freak out a bit. Okay – a lot! Costa Rica meant I had to learn Spanish not Swahili. I was frustrated, frazzled and confused. That's when a wrestling match of the Divine kind began to ensue and I started begging God for answers...

Were all those years of prayer wasted? What about all that research? Lord, why would You lead me to pray like crazy for a country I would never step foot on? Why would my heart be broken for people I would never reach?


I may have been baffled by God but the Creator of the Universe was clearly blazing an irrefutable path to Costa Rica. Yet with my heart still clinging to Africa, I began to cry out for clarity and in the midst of the madness He gently whispered... "You prayed for Africa, didn't you!?"

It was then I began to understand not every dream is meant to be fulfilled the way we think it should. My prayers were as real as my burden and not one of them was wasted. God had called me to the mission field to pray like crazy for a people I would never meet and a place I would never go.

He chartered my freaked out heart to minister to a people I never considered and a place I knew nothing about. Not so He could throw a wrench in my plans, not so He could rock my world and hurt my heart – but so He could remind me that faith is following God even when we don't understand.

Even in our grandest attempts to understand the totality of God's plan for our lives we fall short.

Abraham was called to charter a course for an unknown destination. I'm sure it probably freaked him out a bit...but he was faithful.
Moses was called to a head-to-head showdown with Pharaoh. I'm sure it freaked him out a bit...but he was faithful.
Mary was called to be the mother of the Son of God. I'm sure it freaked her out a bit...but she was faithful.
We don't always understand the end in the beginning. The call rarely comes with a blueprint and is usually something that is beyond us. But aren't you glad we can look at those who have gone before us and, like them, declare that regardless of whether or not the call freaks us out, we will be faithful.

By Stephanie Shott

[Judy Harder]

Motherhood and Our Great Cloud of Witnesses, a Mother Letters giveaway

Apr 18, 2012 Amber Haines

In all my efforts to gather them into myself, to fold them back up for keeps like a love letter in my heart, every day is a pulling away. I have 4 boys, each turning man by the spoonful of oatmeal. I nestle one completely in my arms, he pulls back and seeps the milky smile, looks around the room for his brothers.

I know that already at 8 months he aims to follow them all the way out my door. Right now they swing in the trees, high enough to give mothers heart attacks. Yesterday they ran on rusty tin and said bad words on purpose. I came undone. I lose my grip, take to heart all the verses on the Fear of the LORD. It's the only thing that seems to crumple my fears like old grocery lists.



I have these Mother Letters, a stack of letters written by mothers who are walking along side me and who have walked this journey before me. I got them from my husband, who collected them as a way to make Christmas instead of buy it.

On Christmas morning, after dabbling a bit in the blog world, he presented me with a document over 600 pages long, letters from all over the world. Every page began with "Dear Mother," and so began a journey to see my grand and humble position through the eyes of a great cloud of witnesses, women who are in this with me.

No mother has it figured out, all messy – hanging on to hope and reveling in the Glory.



At the time it was too much for me, all these letters. I cried and thought it too big a thing to have all these secret thoughts and intimate encouragements from mothers, the narratives of so many lives. At the time I had a newborn, a 1 year old, and a 3 year old, all BOYS. My eyes were crossed in young motherhood.

Now, down the road a little bit, I read them and swell with tears again in the common exhausted glory, the showerless beauty, the guilt-ridden works, and all the graceful releases involved in motherhood.

It's different at every stage, and I hold these letters close to my heart. I have these pearls, words from mothers in our humble position, all of us trying to sprinkle patience in the rooms of our hearts –  holding close and letting go all at once.



The amazing women of Squee! have come along side me and my husband and have worked long with us to chisel away and offer a collection of letters and photographs to you that will encourage the hearts of women in this mother journey while giving them a strong sense of recognition. We aren't alone. Other women have missed the boat. Other women have kids screaming outside the bathroom door, and others have anchored deeply into faith so as not to be tossed out of their minds.



Mother Letters e-book is available now, a collection of letters and photos from mothers to mothers, to embolden and encourage mothers in their messy and glorious journey. If you need encouragement and know other mothers who do as well, we invite you to join us at the release of Mother Letters e-book and write your own Mother Letter, linking it with the Mother Letters Link-Up Party.

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Let's pay it forward today! Leave a comment and share who you would like to see encouraged by such a collection of wisdom, and we'll choose one winner by Saturday night and send Mother Letters to her as a pre-mother's day gift from you! Go ahead and leave a comment for every way you share with friends about the book for extra entries.

Thank you for sharing the mess and the glory with us!

written by Amber Haines


Living The Life He Intended

Apr 18, 2012 Toiya Paige


As I went through my day, it felt like I was walking through a minefield. At every turn, a mini bomb exploded. Initially, I thought the worst had to be over. I believed that the tense morning moments would be the worst the day had to offer. I was wrong. The more hours that passed, the larger the explosions. Finally, I decided to consult God.

"What are You trying to tell me?" I asked. "Why is all of this happening today?"

My most challenging students were displaying their most mischievous behavior. The principal assigned a monstrous task to me that had to be completed within two days. Fellow teachers were asking for professional consults (I am an instructional coach) one right after the other. I felt overwhelmed and underqualified.

I began my interrogation again. "Lord, how am I going to get all of this done?"

Walking swiftly down the hall so that I would not be tardy to my next appointment, I made mental lists of what tasks needed to be a priority and what tasks could wait. I felt myself becoming more and more anxious and feeling less and less capable of handling all the tasks at hand. Silently, I prayed...

"Lord, I cannot do this on my own. Help me to do what You want done, how You want it done, and when You want it done. I am here in this school so You can work through me for Your purposes, not mine."

That simple prayer relieved so much stress and tension from my mind, body, and spirit. I was able to finish the day confident that all would be well because I wasn't in control. He was.

As long as we believe that our lives are about us, they'll never be as fulfilling as we think they ought to be or as fulfilling as God intended for them to be. Deep down there is a void that we instinctively know can be filled with light and peace. It seems to take us such a long time to realize that we cannot fill this void. We have to allow it to be filled by the Holy Spirit. And only then can we live our lives as God intended.

By Toiya Paige, Doing.Life.Differently

[Judy Harder]

The Right Fit {and a little pixie dust}

Apr 19, 2012 01:20 am | Mary Carver

The second I got engaged, I immediately turned into one of Those Girls. You know, the ones who carry around a stack of bridal magazines and can only talk about things like centerpieces, bows made of tulle and the merits of roses versus daisies. It wasn't long before I had picked out the exact same wedding dress in every magazine, dog-earing pages and circling designers as if I wasn't going to be shopping at David's Bridal.

When it came time for the big day – the big shopping day, that is – my mom, cousins and friends all headed out with me. I flipped through the dresses on the racks and pulled out The One.

Well, I thought it was the one. But it turned out that the gorgeous wide-necked, cap-sleeved tight bodice with the simple full skirt looked terrible on my narrow shoulders. I mean, it just looked awful. I could prove it to you, because my mom lovingly snapped a picture when I tried it on. But honestly, it still makes me a little sad.

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When I was in college, I was involved in a campus ministry and as soon as I was eligible (read: a wise sophomore), I applied for a position on the leadership team. I wasn't sure which area of ministry would be the best fit for me, but I sure didn't think it would be the Tech Team.

Making promotional videos? Designing a website? Running the sound equipment? Boring! Who wants to do that? Not me. I just knew that when the campus pastor looked at the list of open positions and compared it to the list of interested students, my name was merely the last one unmatched and, therefore, the logical fit for the stupid tech team.

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Several years later my husband and I joined 10 of our closest friends in planting a new church. We decided to start our church with in-home meetings about the different areas of ministry our church would be founded on, and each couple was assigned an area to lead. My husband and I were assigned to the Fellowship Ministry.

Fellowship. As in, potlucks and picnics. Again, I was disappointed because clearly this wasn't the best place for me to serve God. Obviously I could be doing so much more than planning chili cook-offs!

***********

Flash forward a few years, and I'm watching the Tinker Bell movie with my 4-year-old daughter. Half paying attention, I don't catch the entire plot of the movie on the first watch. But after a few more viewings (because if watching it once was good, watching it 10 times is way better!), I realize that little fairy and her friends are handing out some truth along with the pixie dust.

The gist of the story is that Tinker Bell is disappointed to learn that she is a tinker fairy, a fairy who fixes and builds things. Even though everyone can see that she's gifted at tinkering, she wants desperately to do something more exciting, more fun with her life. At one point she says, "Look. You all do things that are beautiful and magical and . . . and important. But me . . . there's gotta be more to my life than just pots and kettles. All I'm asking you is that you give me a chance."

It takes her a while to figure out what's clear to everyone else, but you know the movie must have a happy ending. Eventually, Tinker Bell realizes that she really is a tinker. It's how she was created, and it's when she's tinkering that she's truly in her element.

I'm no cartoon character, but I feel a little bit like Tinker Bell. From wedding dresses to ministry, I've fought who I am my entire life. And just like in this children's movie, that refusal to accept myself has caused hurt and frustration and wasted a lot of time. I've had to learn, over and over, that when I stop arguing – with my mother at the bridal shop, with ministry leaders, with employers, with God – about who I am, it usually turns out that God has put me in the exact right spot. The exact right spot for me, the unique person He created – narrow shoulders and all.

The dress I ended up wearing at my wedding? It was gorgeous. And flattering, too, as my mother reminds me. The year I spent on the Tech Team in college? It prepared me for this little hobby called blogging. And leading our church plant's Fellowship Ministry? It taught me about community and friendship and the real meaning of fellowship and, oh yeah, gave me loads of inspiration for my e-book about planning parties.

God doesn't waste. He doesn't waste talent or time or opportunities or experiences. And He knows what your right fit is. So if you find yourself in places that seem uncomfortable, like they just don't fit or maybe like they're just not good enough, fun enough, fancy enough or exciting enough? Just sit back, take a deep breath and think about Tinker Bell. Or wedding dresses. Or website design, circa 1998.

He's got you where you are for a reason. He made you the way you are for a reason. And the way He weaves together His followers and their gifts, their lives and His mission is beautiful – and way better than pixie dust!

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them.
There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord.
There are different kinds of working,
but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work.
(1 Corinthians 12: 4-6)

Have you ever been disappointed with one of your gifts or abilities? How is God using those gifts and abilities now?