Elk County Forum

Bringing God’s Heart for You to Life {Link up your reviews!} from
(in) courage
Sept 13, 2011


God’s Heart for You.

Four simple words with the power to lift us up from daily routines and struggles and remind us we are daughters of the King. Four simple words that have a unique meaning to each one of us. Four simple words that can create a shared bond between us all.

So… how do you pack all that into a product? How do you create something that shares the passion and meaning behind those words?  The answer is easy – you start with those four simple words. You start with the message. From there, the right design and format, combined with function, create a truly unique product that allows us to share our faith, inspire those around us, and bring meaningful beauty to the place we live.

At Blessings Unlimited, each one of our exclusive products begins with the message. It is the very foundation of all that we do. We were so excited when we found out Holley was writing a new book and couldn’t wait to start dreaming up product ideas for it! The items pictured here share the “God’s Heart for You” message in many different ways; a journal for writing, a decorative word block, small tokens, cards, and mugs.



Whether you use these products for yourself, give as gifts to a favorite friend, or both – it is our desire that surrounding yourself with these messages will be a reminder of who you are in God’s heart.

So… now that you know how we create products, how can you get them? All of our products, are sold exclusively through Consultants. Our Consultants are amazing women running their own business through Blessings Unlimited. Whether they choose to work full-time, earning a living, or part-time, for extra income, this opportunity let’s them create a business tailored to their lifestyle. A business that meets their needs, on their terms.

We are honored and excited to be on this journey of combining our faith and our work with this group of women. Visit our site for more information on this unique opportunity or to find a Consultant’s website and shop online.

***

If you are hosting a review on your blog of a God’s Heart for You item, link up your review below!

By: Lainie, Marketing Manager for Blessings Unlimited


Another Way He Loves


Before I stepped into this online world, I could have never imagined just how wonderful it would be. I didn’t understand it at first.  I wasn’t really sure what all the fuss was about. Friends with people I’ve never met? Really?

After being part of it and knowing … I wondered what took me so long!

The heartfelt counsel of a friend is as sweet as perfume and incense. Proverbs 27:9

It is like talking on the couch with a life long friend. I read their words and think to myself… oh my goodness… you too? They get it, I am not alone. They get me! A connection is made.

Friendships develop and spill over into real life. These online friendships are unexpected. These friendships are real. And since you are here online, I know you understand.

If one falls down, his friend can help him up. Ecclesiastes 4:10

We do life together. Across this big, beautiful world we are connected.

We pray together. We laugh together. We rejoice together. We cry together. We share our stories. Everyone has a story and everyone has something to teach. We listen and we learn. That is a beautiful thing.

A wise person will listen and continue to learn, and an understanding person will gain direction. Proverbs 1:5


Friendships. A blessing that adds joy to our lives. A blessing that can truly make our hearts happy. A gift to be cherished.

Just another way HE loves.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.” Jeremiah 31:3

Have you had those, “you too?” online moments that make you feel like you are not so alone? Isn’t it a beautiful thing?

By Jennifer, StudioJRU
:angel:

(in)courage

Invisibly Present


14 Sep 2011


I used to dread the days when my classmates had to select teammates during high school Phys Ed. If you're the no-so-athletic type, you've probably had many nail-biting moments where you silently begged God to not be the last pick.

Then came the day when I was not even picked. The people beside me were selected, but it was as though I were invisible.  Without the slightest effort on my part, I was passed over as though I wasn't even there.  I thought I was imagining things. Group after group went up for their allotted dodge ball round, while I sat off to the side with the others.  They were awaiting their turn; I was pretending to await my turn.  Then my friend realized that while everyone else seemed to play, I was still.

"Why aren't you playing?" she asked me.

Before I could answer, her eyes bulged out, and her hand flew over her mouth to hide her audible gasp.

"You were never picked!" With that statement, I was somewhat relieved that I wasn't imagining this situation.

I wondered how it was possible to stand in front of teenagers and adults and have absolutely no one notice me.  I was fully present in class that day.  I wasn't trying to hide or make excuses to get out of class.  I was there, but was given the treatment of one who was invisible. Nobody should have this experience.

It was awful.

But if God himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of him.  Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won't know what we're talking about. [Romans 8:9, The Message Bible]

During my high school years, I sometimes made the choice to be invisible.  At school, in front of my peers, I kept my spiritual beliefs quiet, never wanting to be the odd one out.  While I didn't act like a rebel during school hours, I didn't look for ways to speak up or be an active witness for God either.  I mistakenly thought I was doing more good than harm by not standing out.  I was more concerned about myself; how I looked.

That awful feeling I had in gym class?  That's exactly what I was doing to God by keeping Him invisible in my life.

Thankfully, I have grown up since high school.  I am no longer afraid to say that God does indeed live in me, and plays a major role in my life.  His effect is so huge that I couldn't hide it even if I tried.  I've learned that it's okay to not have all the deeply spiritual answers for all possible questions.  I know Who to point people to for their answers.  I don't stay invisible, putting a damper on God. Everyone should experience the joyous embrace of God's love, mercy and grace.

God may be invisible, but I choose to be intentional about His presence in my life.

By Sabrina, ...And Then Some!
:angel:

(in)courage
   

(in)Real Life

Sep 15 2011


If it hadn't been for blogging, we would have passed right by each other without a second thought.

That winter night in the coffee shop, as I waited for my husband to finish up a conversation with a colleague of his, I stood on the edge of a small crowd gathered for an event that was just wrapping up. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and tried to blend in to the wall behind me. I was not dressed for public viewing.

It had been a long day, and I'd thrown on my winter coat – the one I called The Big Ugly – wrapped a scarf around my neck, and shoved my feet into what could arguably win a prize for the worst looking snow boots you've ever laid eyes on. I'd ventured out into the knee-deep snow with no makeup and no memory of the last time a comb had touched my head that day. It was just supposed to be a quick trip around the block, and then we'd be done.

But my husband's conversation seemed endless and so I rolled my shoulders forward just a bit more. The legs of a chair scraped across the wood planks of the floor and as I turned in the direction of the sound, my eyes caught sight of the cheerful colors of a woman's corduroy jacket. She was stunning. Tall and slim with hair that flipped up perfectly – right above her shoulders, just so. She was chatting with someone and I let my gaze slip away.

That's when my husband's conversation ended and he rescued me, saying he was ready to go. "Finally!" I thought to myself. "I can make a clean getaway without being noticed in this get up." I inched myself sideways along the wall, headed for the door and the anonymity of the cold outdoors when the stunning woman in the corduroy jacket walked over and said, "Excuse me, but...are you...are you Deidra?"

"Oh no," I thought, as I turned and stood facing the woman who obviously knew how to dress for a coffee shop. "I read your blog," she was saying. "I'm Michelle. Michelle DeRusha. I blog at Graceful." But she didn't need to say any of that. After she said her name was Michelle, I knew exactly who she was. I'd been following her blog and leaving comments, and she'd been leaving comments at my blog and there in the comment box, we'd been growing a friendship. Now, in the crowded corner of our local coffee shop, we were standing face-to-face.

Turns out, Michelle and I live about two miles from each other. Two. Miles! And the person she is on her blog is the person she is in real life. Only funnier. If you can believe that. (I keep telling her she should do stand-up.) That meeting in the coffee shop happened nearly two years ago and since then we've traveled together to Alabama, our families have shared dinner in each other's homes, and we've mourned and celebrated and conspired together. Sometimes I just shake my head in wonder when I realize that if it hadn't been for blogging, Michelle and I would have passed right by each other that night in the coffee shop. Without a second thought.

Have you ever had one of those moments? Where you meet in person someone you've only known through status updates, and profile pictures, and comments, and blog posts? How did it happen? Was your meet-up planned, or were you pleasantly surprised, like me?

By: Deidra, Jumping Tandem

:angel:

Life to the Full...Together

Sep 16 2011


I slip my toes into water and sand along the shoreline. Above me a moon spreads light like frosting on the water. Behind me the chatter of late night conversation spills out.

I'm in Hilton Head, South Carolina with many of the (in)courage writers.

It's our last night here and we're already feeling the tug toward home. But for now we're having a dessert picnic on the beach, passing around plates of brownies, chocolate cake, slivers of pie.



We've stayed in two beautiful houses, the kind where you can put your sandy, dirty feet on the coffee table anyway. We've dreamed and planned for this next year with our (in)courage community. We've ridden bikes down the beach, carrying sea shells home in our baskets. We've eaten wonderful meals that made us lean back in our chairs with happy sighs. And we've launched long-anticipated surprises.



Through it all, we felt you with us.

Last year and this one too, I had a moment when I walked across the little pathway to our beach, over a sand dune, and happy tears slipped out of my eyes as a I caught a glimpse of these women because it felt so much like a glimpse of heaven. And so much like what happens here on these pages.

It's been two years since we flung open the doors of this online beach house, handed you a key, and welcomed you inside. Two years of sharing our lives, laughter, even tears. Two years of God's goodness and faithfulness. Two years of dreaming together.



And the best is yet to be.

As I stare out over the ocean with my (in)courage sisters around me, I know with all my heart this is true.

I turn and begin to reach down to gather plates from upheld hands.

I smile at bits of frosting, crumbs of chocolate, the last traces of whipped cream.

I think of the supper the disciples shared with Jesus and I smile.

Because this is what I pray every day–that there will be words that feed all of the hungry hearts who come. And when I pray, it's not just for bread. Not just for manna. Oh, no, my friends. I ask for words that are like cupcakes, like the most delicious piece of chocolate cake you've ever eaten, like the most wonderful thing you can imagine.

Abundant life.

That's what we're promised.

And that's so much of the reason we're here in this place together.

Because all of life, every last bite, is so much sweeter when savored together.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for the comments you leave. Thank you for the joy of sharing this journey with you.

I walk into the beach house with a smile on my face, empty plates in my hands and a heart that's full...so very full.

–Holley Gerth

{with thanks to Dawn Camp and Emily Freeman for the amazing photos}
:angel:
———————————————————–

Living a Life of Significance

Sep 16 2011

My hands were sweaty and my mouth was dry. I wish I felt butterflies in my stomach, but it was more like birds flying from one rib cage to the next.

I sat in a crowded room watching a popular United States Senator as he stood center stage giving a speech. I jotted down his words, frantic I would miss something of value for our small town newspaper. I wasn't qualified to be there. I was filling in for my more experienced editor. The senator had been on CNN the day before and Fox News earlier in the week. Those interviewers knew the right points to address, but my scribbled questions were written down as Sesame Street blared in the background. I prayed they made sense.



And when his speech concluded, grown men clamored for his attention. Cameras flashed as this popular man posed shoulder to shoulder with admirers. When he finished, we sat in comfortable chairs eye to eye. Luckily my nerves subsided and he was kind and easy to talk to.  But in his presence I couldn't help but feel insignificant, this man of influence in an expensive suit and a watchful entourage.  And I rested in my size seven clearance flats bought at Target. I felt for a pen at the bottom of my purse. My hand slid past the rubber end of a pacifier and a slick plastic bag of diaper wipes.

And for a moment I wished I was a person of influence, that I was wealthy or authoritative. Or maybe I wished I was taller or that I had a more impressive resume. I reveled in my own ordinary skin.  Thoughts surfaced of how I often shrink into the background and I don't raise my hand to answer questions in large groups.

And as I backed out of the parking lot that day God quietly reminded me that there is great significance in my own little world.

As wives and mothers our words are weighty.   Strung together they strengthen and build character. When our world screams that is beauty is of the utmost importance, we have the chance to speak truth, that beauty is woven through stepping aside and putting others needs before our own. Beauty is giving instead of taking. Beauty loves when it's not deserved.

Proverbs 31: 28-29

Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.

Our value and significance will never come from a job or an accomplishment. Who we truly are comes from a wooden, splintered cross, thrust into the ground. And it's there we surrender who we are, our nice and pleasantries alongside our greed and selfishness and we give it to Him. And in return God so graciously gives us a life of meaning and purpose and significance.

By Amanda Dodson, amanda d
:angel:

in)courage
   

On Cultivating Heart Strings

Sep 17 2011




THERE IS SOMETHING SPECIAL about real life.

It's not just the laughter you can see instead of just hear (or read).
It's not the twinkle in a friend's eye.

It's more than the touch or the hug or the wiping away of tears.

It's that we were created for it.
To mingle our spirits together
and with Him.

To be fully full of His love
so we can give it away.

And friends, those on the other end of those strings flung out from your heart?
They are the very best way to be with God.
Their prayers make yours better.
Their love makes yours deeper.
Their Jesus makes yours real.

In the flesh, Spirit-friends.
God's gift to us, sisters.
Cultivate them.
Honor them.
Love them.

***

By Arianne, To Think Is To Create

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

How Not to Get Lost in Translation

18 Sep 2011

For two years I lived in a country where most of the time I couldn't understand what was being said around me.



They call Russian God's language because it takes an eternity to learn. I found this to be true while we lived in Ukraine. And on Sundays we would sit through two hour services catching only a word here or there that made sense to us.

It was humbling. And also frustrating.

But some Sundays there would be a worship song I recognized. A tune that was familiar and had drifted across the ocean from English and been translated into Cyrillic. When that happened I didn't need to be able to read the words. I knew them by heart. And my happy voice would sing the English alongside the Russian and rejoice in the familiar as if I'd just bumped into an old friend from home in the sanctuary.

One Sunday I was singing and then I wasn't.

I found the words froze on my lips as I discovered the strangest thing. Right there in number 5 Studenskaya street standing next to Lessya Orlyuk it hit me – God understands Russian. He doesn't need the English version. It's all familiar to Him. I'm not sure why I would have thought otherwise, or why this discovery surprised me so much. But it did.

I was awestruck.

God speaks Russian.

And the realizations kept coming hard and fast.

God speaks Spanish.

God speaks French.

God speaks Swahili.

God is not limited by language, borders, or translators.

God is a symphony of understanding.

That was six years ago. At about the same time Shaun Groves was discovering the same thing. That God speaks languages and makes music that we might not always understand.

That God is already in the places that we are just now demanding He pay attention to.

Six years later Shaun has led seven Compassion international blogging trips into countries, cultures, languages and circumstances that most of us can't begin to understand.

Shaun has helped translate for us.

Translate the third world into first world speak. Translate our wealth into an understanding of our spiritual poverty.

Translate what hurts us into relationships with kids that can heal us.

Translate all that we take for granted into an understanding of all that we should not.

Seven (in)courage bloggers have made those trips with Shaun over the years. I got to go with him to Guatemala last year. Many of you came with us – reading, commenting, sponsoring the kids Compassion introduced us to.

And Shaun? He has translated these travels and the people he's met into music. And like only music can, it bridges the gaps in our understanding.

Come, come and meet us here

Come and touch our tears

And we will weep no more

Come, come and meet our pain

Come and lift our lame

And we will limp no more

Come and we will want no more.

Come By Here by shaungroves


He calls it Third World Symphony. And when you listen to the lyrics you'll understand that you're also woven into this beautiful testament to the place where first world meets third and we discover that the same God sings through us all.

In Russian.

In Chinese.

In Xhosa.

In English.
With grateful thanks to Shaun, for faithfully translating the messages that matter.

By Lisa-Jo Baker, Gypsy Mama, Compassion International blogger, and owner of too many tubes of toothpaste.

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Hello Everyone!
Unlikely Friendships
Flying Above The Storm
Hello Everyone!

19 Sep 2011

Well I have to say I am super excited about sharing this book with you all, and it isn't even because I wrote it (honest!). I have found that in the areas where I have the most insecurity, there is also the potential for the best community and I hope that's the case with this book.

I have a feeling that each of you can relate to at least one of the fears that are discussed in the book, even if you went into it thinking you wouldn't. I can't wait to see what sticks out to you as important and worthy of fleshing out together, and I really can't wait to read all of your comments and thoughts on each chapter.

We had a BLAST filming these, and while some faces (shhh! We aren't announcing who will be with us, so you'll have to tune in each week to see. But I will say they are a bunch of amazing ladies:)) may be familiar, others might not. We chose women we thought could represent those fears the best based on their life stories, and they did not disappoint.

My prayer for this study is twofold-firstly I pray that you feel safe here among your fellow sojourners, and I also hope that you are willing to stick your neck out and share some of the shadows in your life that may have been haunting you for years. My friend Heather talks about "the gift of going first," and I think it's true. Oftentimes we aren't courageous enough to be the first one at the microphone, but we ease up when we see we aren't alone. We've done the hard work for you, and left the door wide open for you to find yourself a comfy spot beside us.

There are some misconceptions about fear that I think are worth looking at, as well as one  fear we are actually called to have. I really do pray that you will bless us with your thoughts as we go through each, all the while sharing our hearts and our stories with open arms.

It's an honor to be on this side of the book club, and I can't wait to jump in with all of you phenomenal ladies. Please know I am praying for each of you and am EAGER to hear from you. Let's face these battles together, arms linked and always relying on the only One we know can get us to the finish line.

Lord, we love you and we pray that You are blessed by the weeks to come as we seek to know You and Your perfect will for our lives...

Sola Gratia,

Angie

Unlikely Friendships

19 Sep 2011



"So... how do you guys know each other?" Awkward pause.

"From... the Internet." Smiles and head shakes inevitably followed.

I've had this sort of conversation before, but this particular one was this past March, when some visiting friends of ours came to church with us. They were in town for SxSW Interactive, a well-known tech conference in Austin. We'd known each other about three years—online. But this particular week was the first time we met, face-to-face.

And it wasn't weird at all, just like the many, many people I've been blessed to meet in the flesh after first knowing them online. Be it Simple Mom readers, a Twitter interaction, or some other virtual "bump in," the Internet has exploded my world by shrinking it into shared tables at the local coffee shop; playdates at the park. Book clubs.

Facebook and Twitter don't replace touchable, 3-D relationships, for sure. But they sure can be the start of them.

• When I think of community, I think of friends I've had since college, with whom I still love deeply. We hug each other when we can, even though most of us are scattered worldwide.

• When I think of community, I think of the local church, where I can know people in my own town, and they me. Together, we can break bread over the backyard grill and pour into each other's souls as we watch our kids tumble together in the grass.

• And when I think of community, I think of the people I've grown to love—and know in the flesh, oftentimes—because of this relatively recent invention called the World Wide Web.

I've been blessed to veg in a hotel room, chatting with Nester. I've ridden in a chandelier-shaking bus on bumpy Filipino roads with Emily, Kat, Stephanie, Lindsay, Shaun, and Keely. And I've heard Melissa scream my ear off as I sat in her lap down an alpine slide in Park City.



The editors I work with daily have become so dear to me, even though we haven't spent much time together in the flesh. I've met most of the people that write for my site—not all yet—and they each mean as much to me as local friends and neighbors.

And I look at the avatars of the many of you I've yet to meet—but long to—and I smile. I smile, because I know a small part of you, thanks to electric signals and a bunch of ones and zeroes. And even though I probably won't meet most of you in the flesh here on Earth, we'll eventually meet one day... Lord-willing.

Community online doesn't replace community in "real" life. But it can enrich your life, both in breadth and in depth. While you love on your kids at home, a few clicks of the mouse can bring you encouragement from another mom, across the world, right in the trenches with you, too. And sometimes, the Internet also introduces you to friends—real friends, friends you'd otherwise never meet.

Today, I'm thankful for the Internet, because it's sprinkled the community in my life with flavor. And for that, I'm eternally grateful.

How has the Internet surprised you with a community you'd never expect?

By Tsh of Simple Mom

Flying Above The Storm

Posted: 18 Sep 2011 11:10 PM PDT





I had a very surreal experience flying back to Connecticut from Dallas a few weekends ago. It's almost a 4 hour flight and I was getting restless. The in-flight movie was a dud. The ipod wasn't keeping me interested. And I couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep longer than 20 minutes. I did have a great book, but it was the last hour of the flight and there really wasn't anything that could hold my attention at this point.

Until... I looked out the window.

I always sit at the window when flying. I like having the wall to lean on and I like having a view (not to mention control of the window shade). I've seen fireworks happening while on a late night flight a few years ago. I've seen priceless views of land and water. And flying through giant cotton ball type of clouds is still pretty cool to witness. But this particular view was a first for me while flying.

The captain came on the intercom to announce that he was going to have to take another route in order to miss a mega storm system that was hitting Connecticut pretty bad. The next half hour or so, was amazing to witness. As many times as I've seen lightening, I've never watched it's amazement while looking down upon it. Flying on top of, and around a storm was incredible. You could easily see beautiful blue sky on one side, and dark, ominous clouds with sheets of rain and lightening on the other. And those of us on flight 342 were somewhere in between the two.

I had an epiphany at that moment.

Most of us are usually in between serenity and a storm on any given day/week/month/year. We prefer the clear blue sky, but the storms come without much warning, and are inevitable. Our pilot had received a head's up from air traffic control that we were approaching a pretty bad storm that might make for complications with our flight. So, he was able to bypass the problem area. However, in real life, we aren't always able to take such a detour. I started thinking about how bad the rain, wind, thunder and lightening was to those on the ground. (If I could see a wall of rain from where I was in the sky, I could imagine how yuck it must have been for those actually having to drive through it, etc.) But, I was in the fortunate position of being able to see the other side of the storm. I could see that it would pass soon enough, and just on the other side of it was serenity again. It truly was an odd experience to be able to see both (the crazy and the calm) at the same time.

It made me think about how the storms in my life eventually came to an end, and though I felt like the rain lasted forever, looking back, all I remember is that we got through it. Sometimes the storm lasted a week, sometimes it lasted a year (or more). But as quickly as time goes by, in the grand scheme of things, the storm was only a chapter.... not the whole story.

I bet if our plane had been forced to fly through the big, bad storm it would have been a very nerve-wrecking flight! Bumpy. Panic inducing. Worrisome. And if the turbulence was bad enough, we may be tempted to think we wouldn't make it through!

I can think of a few (ok, many!) times in my 30 years that resemble that description.

But flying above the storm I could see that it would eventually be over. I was reminded that the rain does eventually stop. And the lightening, though damaging in some cases, can also be beautiful when looked at from a different perspective. Serene, blue sky is always waiting on the other side.

Just another reason I love the window seat.

By Kasey Krawiec, aka: Ethan's Mommy

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Sleep Over

Sep  20 2011

Two years ago, my daughter and I started a new tradition we call "Mommy Sleep-Over." It's pretty simple. I bring my my pillows into my daughter's room, pull out the trundle part of her trundle bed, and spend the night in a fairy's paradise.

Of course, the evening only ends with sleeping. First, we go out for a treat ... usually something of the chocolate variety. Then, we do something girly (as if eating chocolate together and giggling is not girly enough), like put on temporary princess tattoos or paint our toenails, or play "hair stylist."

Oh and we talk.

And even though she's only seven, the conversation some times gets deep. We talk about school, about how life was in the "old days" (circa 1982) and how she feels scared every now and then but does not really know why.

I know there may come a day when she will find this tradition "lame."

But I also know that the day will come when she sees these play dates as what they really were meant to be ... a lesson of community.

I actually did not set out to have the sleep-overs to teach her about community. Our tradition started because we had just moved and she was apprehensive about being in a new bed ... in a new bedroom ... in a new house (Oh yeah, and in a new city ... and new state ... three weeks before starting Kindergarten). She needed to be comforted, but in a non invasive, subtle way.

With each sleep-over, we unknowingly studied the importance of being an authentic community member. We learned more about what it means to be a good listener, a comforter, a practical joke cohort, a dream enabler and an encourager.

Authentic community is strong. It requires commitment, but can grow regardless of gaps in age. It can bless even at a distance.

As I think about past and future sleep-overs with my daughter, I think about my sweet (in)courage sisters who went to Hilton Head for a huge sleep-over of sorts. Oh the fun they had! Although I was not able to attend the gathering, I am richly blessed just knowing that my sweet (in)sisters had the opportunity to look each other in the eyes as they talked, laughed, ate, dreamed, schemed, played and dance.

I am also thinking about the upcoming community experience in April. While there are no beaches in the Mid-Ohio Valley, I am thrilled thinking of ways to bring the surf to Marietta. I'll confess, I miss the real beach and get giddy at the thought of recreating it (and about making Samoa cupcakes) ... but more importantly, I am looking forward to spending face-to-face time with my (in)community ... (in)Real Life.

Will you be attending an (in)Real Life event? Which one? If so, what are you looking forward to the most?

Angela Nazworth is "starting over" in the blog world at AngelaNazworth.com where she writes about the freedom that comes with embracing your true identity in Christ.

:angel:

     

This is a personal message from me, Judy. Is this a posting you all are reading and want to continue to read. I like it, but am unsure if anyone besides me is reading. What say YOU?  :angel:Judy(in)courage
   

What Women Fear {Good Reads Gift Basket Giveaway!}

Sep 21 2011

"..Vivid, profoundly biblical, yet girlfriend real with just-the-medicine-you-need-funny, every page is reviving hope for every women. Simply, Angie Smith is a Bible teacher for such a time as this." -Ann Voskamp

We are beyond thrilled to walk through our very own Angie Smith's new book, What Women Fear. So thrilled, in fact, that we couldn't help but offer up a basket of goodies to celebrate the launch of the book study. Join us each week as Angie, Jessica, and a special guest discuss a new chapter of the book {view the full schedule and details here}.

All you have to do is tune in here each week to join in on the study! What Women Fear  is only $10 right now– you can grab your copy right here.  There are many women who want to join in on this study and you can make that happen by purchasing a sponsor book.  When you purchase two books you can receive free shipping with coupon code BLOOMBOOK. If you have any questions about sponsoring a book, check out our FAQ page.

We're delighted to be giving away FIVE goody baskets that include the items you see below, plus a  "What Women Fear" t-shirt!



Enter to win this What Women Fear Gift Basket:

Faith- Premium Leather Journal
Walk by Faith Assortment Set
What Women Fear T-Shirt (you can see it modeled here)
A copy of What Women Fear
To enter, just leave a comment below sharing a fear you hope to overcome. We'll announce the winners on Bloom this Friday.


Walking in faith with you,

the Bloom (in)courage team

Dark But Lovely





Song of Solomon is one of those books in the bible that beckons me to read more. No... it's not the over-the-top analogies that draw my interest (read: "Your teeth are like a flock of sheep just shorn, coming up from the washing." That's in there. I promise) but I find myself intrigued by the love story being poured out over the pages. Fresh-shorn-sheep-talk and all.

As of late, this particular portion of the book has been pulling at my heart:

I am dark, but lovely,
O daughters of Jerusalem,
Like the tents of Kedar,
Like the curtains of Solomon.
Do not look upon me, because I am dark...
-Song of Solomon 1:5-6

Here we see a bride acknowledging her condition...her darkness (which is obviously something she is not proud of ) and then, in the very same sentence, she acknowledges her loveliness.

Could this be the beautiful paradox that is God's grace?

I can relate to this woman. In my own eyes I am very dark. So dark in fact, that like the bride in the story, I often find myself wanting to say "do not look upon me". Here's the truth. The ugly truth:

I am sin-stained and selfish. I am impatient and judgmental. I am one who often feels small with no big impact in this world. I strive for perfection but in my striving I miss out on what really matters. It is obvious. I am so very dark. Sometimes "pitch-black" would probably be a better description. Ouch. The truth hurts.

But that's not the end of my story and it's not the end of your's, either!

Now let us insert God's grace. His beautiful and undeserved sweet song of grace. Because of Him, I am not left alone in my darkness. He could have left me that way. After all, I deserved it:

"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus."
-Romans 3:23-24

Pitch black, broken, hurting, angry, ashamed...but instead of leaving me in my condition, He gave me Jesus. I have sinned and fallen SO short but I am justified by His grace! Jesus makes me lovely. Even in my sin. Even in my striving. Even in my many imperfections...

When I fall into the melody of His grace, I am lovely and sweet friends, please believe me when I tell you that YOU are lovely, too!

By Ida Mundell, from Eat Drink and Be Jesus
:angel:

in)courage
     

(in)courage
   

Savoring Time Together

Sep 22 2011

About three and a half years ago, my husband Matthew told me that his friend Matt's fiance Alyson, was moving to Nashville. He went on to say that he thought she and I would get along really well.

I expected that I probably would like her. Afterall, Matthew is a good judge of character.

But I didn't expect that I would love her and that she would turn out to be one of my best friends in Nashville.

And I certainly didn't expect that three years later, when she moved away to North Carolina, I would be so sad every time I thought about her.

But that is where I am today.

Alyson just moved from Nashville to North Carolina.

And I really miss her.

From the moment we met three years ago, we were kindred spirits. Sisters. The kind of friends that just get one another.

And now that she is 7 hours away, I regret that I didn't savor our time together more.

I guess I assumed that she would always be here.

I imagined our kids would grow up together. We'd take pictures at soccer games, dance recitals, prom nights and graduations. We would be there for the good and the bad.



Our Kids - Max, Elias and Adeline

In this season of my life, God has been teaching me to savor moments and relationships more.

A lunch with a friend is a blessing to cherish, not just an excuse to gab.

A bible study with trusted friends is a gift, not an agenda item.

A text message from a friend is a reminder that you are valued.

This week, take extra time to cherish the moments with your friends that live near and far. Thank God for phone calls and playdates, coffees and text messages and let loved ones know you care.

Have you had a friend or family member move away? Or maybe you were the one to move? How did you keep your relationship strong?



Note: This post was written earlier this month, before my dear friend Sara (our own Gitz) started hospice and is on her journey home. In this last week and a half, as we have prepared our hearts for Sara to be in the arms of the Father, this concept of savoring time has been on my heart even more. (I guess God knew that would be the case when I wrote this post about Alyson...) We only have one life to love people well and savor time together. To read more about choosing joy and celebrating Sara, click here.
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Do You Have a Life Verse?

 

Many years ago while grieving my failed business, I cried out to God, pouring over the pages in my bible in the middle of the night, looking for answers. My heart ached. I had never before experienced failure in my life.

God spoke to me at 4 a.m. and told me to read, Jeremiah 29:11. I rifled as fast as I could through my Bible until I came upon this passage: "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

In the midst of my affliction, God heard my cries and answered me just as plain as day. Although it was a dark time I now know that God had something greater planned for my life than my own limited perceptions.

I have carried this verse in my heart and mind since that night and understand that God had given me this verse for my life.

Since that time, I have had many additional dark moments in my life and in ministry. Choosing to serve God is not always easy. We learn through our mistakes and through pain, but if we look closely, God is always on the other side of our pain, holding out His hand.

Oh, how I have clung to the words of Jeremiah 29:11....silently weeping alone in my office at the church while I was being persecuted as a female pastor, the sleepless nights when our daughter was doing missionary work in Tuva  (on the border of Mongolia) and we had no communication with her, in times of turmoil with self-employment, in times of sickness with friends and loved ones, in times of loss, and in times of hope.

This little verse brings me great strength.

Do you have a life verse?

It can be a bible passage that speaks to you, a poem, a prayer, a quote, something that someone spoke to you, something you read, or something God spoke to you in a time of need.

Choose one. Use it. Go back to it. Make it yours.

Make it something that speaks to your heart, your mind, your soul.

Write it.

Pray about it.

Live it.

Another example of a life verse is our daughter, Ashley's: The Beatitudes

Matthew 5:3-10

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Ashley has made the Beatitudes a part of her daily living and tries to live her life in a way that honors this passage. I was actually lucky enough at Christmas to find her a leather bracelet with this entire passage inscribed! How rare is that!

By: Mary, Hope Filled Living

A Haines Home Companion: On Sharing Real Life

22 Sep 2011



At the end of my pregnancy, I quit blogging. In fact I wasn't sure I would ever write in public again. I realized that things would change soon with 4 boys, and one morning I woke up and decided that I wanted to enjoy my life in its precious stage; I wanted to live it and soak it up, and I wanted to keep it like a secret pearl.

There were days I wanted to pour my heart out but couldn't. My body was doing its own creative work in making child, and it left me wordless, in a peaceful writer's block.

Most days I didn't even turn my computer on – rather I lived, and I lived fun, and I lived hard. My girlfriends prayed over me before labor. They put their hands on my skin, and they spoke blessing.

We went to a 7 year old's Civil War birthday party, so we could be with our real-life community. The boys were supposed to enlist with the pretend Confederacy, but then the Union swept in and recruited them. I'm not sure why I felt guilty about the whole thing. But my girlfriend patted my back, knowing I was thinking I'd have to explain myself to my Tennessean daddy.

Then, while one had fifths disease and one had an ear infection, we got lice. I was 37 weeks pregnant, and we had critters. Don't judge me. I called my girlfriends laughing hysterically so I wouldn't cry myself to sleep. We spent 2 weeks dealing with that, and all the while I longed for connection, holding my babies to my huge body and waving at friends as they dropped dinner off at our front door.

I stepped outside for some vitamin D and a girlfriend left this drawing with a mocha and a slice of pie. I smiled at my real life, our tomorrow, the critters finally gone.

Arkansas trees turned crispy in the heat. Labor started then, and it lasted prodromally for weeks.

I sit on the couch of a coffee shop with two close girlfriends every Friday morning, and we cry every single time we meet. They were what I looked forward to, how I felt some days I could come up for air.

Finally my water broke. Then dear ones hovered with fists countering my back labor and fingers wiping my hair back. They said, "You're doing it. You're doing it." Hands of reassurance, in all mustered strength, literally held me up while my eyes went wild to keep from pushing.



Then Titus was born, a gentle one. And as the milk and honey of motherhood settled in, the wave of creativity whooshed in also, and that's when I started writing again, rejoining community here online in full assurance that there is life here, too – but only by way of having lived it offline.

Some of my best friends live across the country from me, and I ache to put my arms around them, but I live in gratitude for the ones that live near me, in(RL), hands that put on the blessings, that stir the soup, hands that draw cartoons that make me laugh, the ones who wipe my brow. You are all Jesus to me.

by Amber Haines of TheRunaMuck

:angel:

(in)courage
Puddles of Glory

Sep 24 2011

Can we choose how God is glorified?

Come up with the best version of the story that He could plan?

I know, that I know the answers to my heart struggle questions are 'No.' {But I still feel responsible for creating glory for my Lord.}

Glory is defined as "a state of high honor, a brilliant radiant beauty." {I love that God is infinitely beautiful.}

How does God receive glory?

God receives glory from the Son. {John 13:32}
Everything He does reveals His glory and majesty. {Psalm 111:3}
God is worthy of glory because He created all things. {Revelation 4:11}
When every tongue confesses that Jesus Christ is Lord, The Father receives glory.  {Phill 2:11}

Sometimes I think I can see the path to which God would receive the most glory. The best version of the story. My life most comparable to the lives in the Word.

Jesus said, "This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it." {John 11:4}

Sometimes I think for my story to look so different, to travel along a path unknown and untold, must mean less glory for my Father.

Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God? – Jesus {John 11:40}

I really don't want 'another way' of how God will receive glory through my life. I would sadly prefer the mediocre version I've crafted. The one that is similar to another's.

What I long for is a story where I don't have to bear deep questions, struggle for direction, or grasp for an easy out that looks like the life of my neighbor.

I've realized I've been trying to plan and over-ride interrupted expectations, desperately seeking to understand how God will be glorified, how my life weaves into His master plan, that I lose ——– lose sight of the moments He has creatively answered my prayers, lose the courage to do the next step, or the worst of all, lose sight of His radiant glory in the uniqueness of my life.

By trying to create glory for my God, I have tried to control Him.

When options or opportunities arise that I don't think would make for a wonder-filled enough story for His sake, I try to look through the moment to find the one I think He really had planned. {This couldn't be it.}

I miss the plan. The one that could soak me to the bone, be painful, hurt, or laugh out loud in astonishment.

I assume it would be better to remain dry, but He knows the rain drops will reveal moments that He and I would never otherwise have shared. He asks me to run through the drops of living water from heaven and enjoy the unexpected puddles.

Therefore I glory in Christ Jesus in my service to God {Romans 15:17} and pray the story He has written for me is one of infinite beauty and honor for Him alone. To live the life that will bring Him glory, the way He had planned all along.

by Stephanie Bryant, co-founder of (in)courage and now Creative Mastermind at S. Bryant Social Marketing.
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

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Unbound

Sep 25 2011


I watched her shake her long blond wig from side to side as she approached the table of boys. She had just opened a new "Rapunzel" wig and dress from her Poppy, and despite the fact that we were in a crowded restaurant, decided to climb under the table and change.

She popped back up on the other side with her wig shifted and looking a little crazytown, so I motioned her over and straightened it out.

"Mommy, did you make sure all my brown hair is hiding?" I nod yes.

"And it isn't looking funny?" I nod no.

I smile big because of the way her words sound with her two front teeth missing, when her tongue slips out because it isn't used to a space being there.

"Then I'm going to go dance."

She doesn't get too far from our table but she has her eyes on the boys across the way. She has just turned six, and she's already trying to show off for them. I nudge her to come back over. Tell her it isn't important to impress boys and why don't we focus on talking with the family and enjoying our food.

"But I look so different, mommy. I want them to see."

I make a humming noise, which means I'm waiting for God to drop some knowledge into my mouth before I screw up my children forever. I finish chewing and swallow some pasta, not feeling like this is going to go well.

"Yes, Kate. You do look different. You look like Rapunzel! But you're Kate, honey. And I think Kate is even more beautiful."

She isn't listening. She's trying to slurp spaghetti without getting it on her new dress. It's moderately successful until the meatball falls, which leads to a 5 minute conversation about how I told her not to bother putting her new dress on because it could get messy.

Do you ever feel like they don't listen? I mean, we know what's going to happen here. The wig is going to get tangled, the dress is going to be stained, and she's trying to impress a bunch of middle school boys who haven't even noticed she is in existence.

How ridiculous.

I mean, I would never...

I would rather, well, you know...

"But I want to dance a little father away, Lord."

Then you may, love. But I desire you to stay near to me.

"I look more beautiful this way, Father."

I disagree. In fact I quite prefer you exactly as I intended you to look, no matter the wrinkles or the unruly hair. It's exquisite to me. Every bit of it.

I see what the world wants from me, and I move toward it. I disguise my hair, my heart, my intentions, and anything else that reveals the real me.

And whether or not she gets a glance is insignificant, really. It isn't about them at all.

And so it goes for me.

How many years have I hidden under tables, trying to morph myself into beauty, sneak my way to the place I might matter, only to find myself with a broken heart and a stained dress.

Love, you put that on yourself.

I chose you before the beginning of time, and I see the bits you've hidden so carefully. Disagree if you must, but I believe they are some of your finest...

She comes to my lap, sits, and asks me to take off her very-long, very-new, very-blond wig so she can shake out "the tickles" it's giving her.

I giggle because I understand what it is to feel bound by something I am not, and also what it feels like to be unbound.

And I pray she will come to know the difference.

As it comes off, she smiles. No teeth. Just Kate.

Beautiful, just the way she was made to be.

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   
September 26 2011

Let's Link Up, Shall We?
The New You: Why Kindergarten Isn't Just For Kids
Hole in Our Fullness
With love to Sara, our Gitzen Girl
Let's Link Up, Shall We?



As I mentioned in my first post, I am really looking forward to hearing your thoughts on fear. So is Jess.

Since I've written the book I have been shocked at how many people around me have mentioned things that hadn't come up before regarding their personal fears. Several said that they worried they would be seen as less than holy if they admitted them, and others just felt like theirs were silly. One woman wrote me a lengthy email about a very specific fear she was dealing with and she thought it was perfectly absurd. The incredible thing was as she processed in the email, she started to remember an incident from her childhood home where she had felt threatened by a similar situation, and really started piecing together memories from there on out. I think she had held it in so long and felt like others might not perceive it the same way she did so she hesitated to share. As a result of making herself vulnerable in community, she started to process it in a new way, and a way I hope the Lord will use to shape her and bring her courage.

I don't think I ever would have done a book like this in book club form if it wasn't in a place where I knew that those who entered in with their own fears would be accepted, cherished, and prayed over. That's what Bloom (in)courage is about.

Last week, we hosted a giveaway and invited you to share a fear.

The comments were overwhelming and incredible (click here to read them).

This week, we want to go a step further.

Will you take some time to blog about a fear that you have? This may be a chance for you to further expound on what you shared in the giveaway comments, or something new. It can be something so small that it seems insignificant, or something you aren't even able to articulate. You can share in as much detail or lack of detail that you feel comfortable with, but know that we are reading your words and asking the Lord to bless you in this specific area in the coming weeks. If you have a few minutes, go ahead and click around and visit with your fellow (in)courage bloom friends, encouraging them as we go.

Know that we don't take this opportunity lightly, and we are convinced that God is going to do powerful things through His word as we go. I am praying that the weight of your fears will lessen over the course of this study, and that you will not feel alone in them anymore. One of Satan's greatest schemes is to convince us that we are the only ones who feel this way...and I for one am through with letting him try to convince me. Ladies, you aren't alone in this.

Settle in for the journey and know we love and appreciate you.

So...today's question is simple. Take some time and let us in on your world by answering-

What are you afraid of?

Please be sure to link directly to your post, not just to your blog in general.

Love,
Angie, Jess and the Bloom (in)courage team

:angel:



The New You: Why Kindergarten Isn't Just For Kids



When you're unsure about changes ahead and how they will shape a new you, what encourages you to keep going?

You'd think I was serving him his last meal.

"What do you want for breakfast, TJ? ... Anything you want..." I wanted him to be happy.

"Frosted mini-wheats!" hollered my five year old.

No oatmeal for him today, I thought as I scrambled up some eggs to go on the side.

It was TJ's first day of kindergarten.

And I was nervous.


What Was Fazing Me
I didn't expect to be. After all, TJ's had years of preschool. He knows how to raise his hand, sit criss-cross applesauce, and stand in a straight line (sort of).

I wasn't concerned about his ability to learn. The kid's got an ample supply of imagination. The academics will kick in as needed.

I even went to sleep soundly the night before. Back-to-school shopping wasn't so bad. Some glue sticks, Crayola markers, backpack and new socks. Everything was set.

But, I woke up worried.

Getting TJ dressed and ziploc'ing his turkey sandwich in time for the 8 o'clock bell, with two year-old-brother in tow, required a new level of calisthenics. Still, that wasn't fazing me.

One question TJ's been asking me about school was.

What if I can't make new friends, Mommy?


After Our Amens
I gave the textbook answers moms give to their boys — assuring him it was normal to be nervous and reminding him he's made friends wherever he's been.

What if kindergarten is where he first tastes rejection? I wondered silently.

As I tucked him in bed, TJ offered his prayer. He asked God to send him one friend to play with the next day.

After our amens, I felt prompted to add some last words.

I looked into his eyes.

Remember, friendships takes time.

God may answer your prayer — by making you the friend that someone needs.

See if someone looks shy.  Say hi. You never know.


"I like my old school better."

I know, sweetie.

Then, I kissed him goodnight, leaving him with I love you.

Meant To Be Mine Too
When I woke up the next morning with our conversation floating in my head, I turned to Moses' conversation with God in Exodus 33:13-14 –

"If I have found favor in Your sight,
let me know Your ways that I may know You,
so that I may find favor in Your sight...

And He said, "My presence shall go with you, and I will give you rest."


Your presence, Lord. That's what I want for TJ. Your presence.

As I read and re-read these verses, along with the chapter, it dawned on me.

This prayer is meant to be mine, too.

Your presence, Lord. This is what I want. Your presence.

I realized TJ and I were standing at our own crossroads of faith.

Seasons of Change
We look back now on kindergarten and life seems simple. But, to a five year old, his world just got a lot bigger. His awareness of his need for friendship and acceptance is growing with each new challenge.

And so, this is true for you and me.  Each of us is standing at our individual doors of kindergarten in faith.

No matter how long we've walked with Jesus, we all encounter new seasons of change.

In the conversation of faith, it may be your turn to answer God.

Is He calling you to step closer to Him, by stepping out of your world of familiar people and places?


When God opens a door to a new you, the time has come to let go and move ahead.

As you point yourself to the unknown, you may sense a greater need for friendship and acceptance.

It's normal to wonder.

Will I make friends?

Will I like the new me?

God looks into our eyes and whispers to each of us, as loving Father to the apple-of-His-eye –


Remember, friendships take time.


I will never leave you or forsake you.

I love you.


Keep going.

I'm right here with you. Every step of the way.

Reach out to a trusted friend and share your fears.

Grab onto the promise that keeps us safe — the promise of God's presence.

No longer alone, we can move ahead.



~~~~~

What new changes is God calling you to take?


Pull up a chair.  I'd love to hear your thoughts.  Click to share a comment.

~~~~~

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



* Lisa Leonard Autumn's Song Necklace Giveaway *
To celebrate the autumn season of faith, Bonnie is hosting a Lisa Leonard Giveaway — Autumn's Song Necklace — on Faith Barista Blog. Click here to enter by Midnight Wednesday 9/28/11.


Hole in Our Fullness

Posted: 26 Sep 2011

Her last breath is breathed and the whisper of heaven hangs heavy in the room. Her face transforms, a smile on her lips as her lungs release oxygen one last time. Perhaps she is looking into the face of Jesus. Her fight is over, her battle won.

Earlier she whispered in desperate tones as she grabbed my shirt tight, "I have to go into the street to fight."

With tears in our eyes we laughed heartily. We stood vigil, watching as her soul slipped from this physical world into eternity.

A quiet calm fills the room as if her soul made a noise that is now silenced this side of forever. The stillness brings peace mingled with grief. Our tears slide down our cheeks and splash upon her sheets. We do not move. Movement seems out of place as this transition between physical life and eternal life takes place.

How do we live when she is still in her bed, her physical body emptied of her essence – her soul? But move we must. We must go about our grieving and our lives now. Our lives forever changed and marked by this woman who is no more here, but is whole there.

Hints of joy cut through the grief. Stories come and memories flood – memories that make us laugh as we grieve our loss. Joy that she is whole in heaven, not suffering in her physical tent. She is home. We long to join her there.

Yet with Paul we remember, "To live is Christ, to die is gain."

Days, weeks, months, years fly by and still her memory is fresh. Grief is not a constant reminder as it was before, but a hole in the fullness. A moment I wish she could enjoy with me, a desire to hear her stories, oh to laugh with her again.

These holes in my fullness only serve to increase my longing for my heavenly home. May the holes in your fullness do the same for you.

by Angela Mackey Rethinking My Thinking

With love to Sara, our Gitzen Girl

Posted: 25 Sep 2011 07:17 AM PDT

A precious friend, writer and beloved member of the (in)courage community, Sara {Gitzen Girl} Frankl went home to be with Jesus last night. We've all watched the valiant race she ran and the unwavering testimony she left behind for her Lord and Savior.

We are humbled by her courage and inspired by her story.



And, in the words of one of her friends, in this place where sorrow and joy stand hand in hand we blow kisses to our sweet Sara knowing, knowing, knowing full well,

"She will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown her head.  Gladness and joy will overtake her; and sorrow and sighing will flee away."  Isaiah 35:10.

We love you Sara – thank you for the example you set us and the joy you taught us.

We look forward to the day when we will all meet again. We hold onto that hope. And we run with faith behind you.

:angel:

If You've Ever Been Wounded by Women...
27 Sep 2011

The dark's never bothered me much.

It's women who have scared me.

Women can haunt with shadows of their own.



I don't know what grade I was in when Alexa Richards murmured to Judith Nolan in the back of gym class that the whole school knew I'd likely end up in a loonie bin.

But I know I vowed right then I'd hide from girls; just hide out in the library stacks, a barricade of my own. Safe from Sadie Miller 's remarks about my clothes thrifted from the Sally-Ann, and Lissa Turscott's barbs about being the geek no one would ever want to be friends with, and it's true — no one tells you that the shields you carry to keep you safe, they become the the steel cages that keep you alone.

I never gave the women at university a chance.

I kept the door to Room 411 on the C wing of the French floor closed and locked.

I told the girls down my hall, Melanie with a Chinese mother and Dutch father and who'd grown up in England, and Cyndi with her Portuguese parents and her boyfriend who had won the lottery and Yamila from Uruguay whose father was an international diplomat, I just told all of them  that an open door made it too hard to study.

Truth was, I thought an open door made it too easy for someone to shoot an arrow through my hard and quaking heart.

They always knocked and asked if I wanted anything at the cafeteria. They always made sure I never walked alone in the dark across campus to the library. They had always tried. They had always smiled.

Every single one of those women made the trip to the farm to be at my wedding. They came together and early, to help decorate the tent in the backyard with white begonias and double impatiens.

Why hadn't I been patient with friendship?

Why had I let the past rob me of the present's possibility?


Why hadn't I seen that the price of being safe — is the cost of being solitary?

Why hadn't I seen that distrust can destroy a life?




Weeks ago, after we've had pie together and laughed the dark away under stars, I stand in a doorway late at night, in a house full of (in)courage writers.

One of the women asks me quiet: "Has it really been okay?  –  I mean, for you to be here?"

And in a house full of women, the words come in the dark and what haunts can be cast out, and these words are truth:

"God has used you, all of you, so many women, to heal me."



I have witnessed it — women holding Sara right there in Skype and carrying her out to see the sea.

I have heard it, women asking across tables about dreams and listening long to really hear and I heard women do it — how they helped unfold wings and smoothed the crumpled and timid out with prayer and how they waited to hear the flight.

I have felt it — how no one wants anything of anyone but to be honest and real and to trust enough to take off the mask.

You breathe different in a room when you know it's not about the good you can accomplish but about the grace you can accept.

Because really — in a refuge of grace, who has anything to prove or protect?

In the hands of grace — who has anything to hide?

In the space of grace — who needs to live for something — when they can live with someone?

When we breathe in grace, we finally believe we can be real –  and only then can we begin to be changed into the realest versions of Holy Grace Himself.

It's in a sanctuary of grace, relationships near extinction can revive.



On Saturday, Sara crossed her Red Sea to the Promised Land.

And this morning two (in)courage writers fly, carrying us all with them this morning to the edge of eternity and the celebration of Sara's life.

Friendship is all that will show up at our funerals. Who can bear living the whole of their lives and never learn what it means to really be a friend?

I long to learn.


She loved. They will say that at Sara's funeral. But she loved, but she loved, but she loved.

Is there more to make with a life?

I have felt it these days too, straight across me: Women, they can cast long shadows of their own— the lengthening of a love that picks up the phone, that writes a card, that lavishes patient grace on an old ache...

These women casting shadows that lengthen into the faithfulness of a cross, the dark all up and fleeing...

::

::

::

~ Ann Voskamp

Related Post with audio: What it takes to Join the Real Sisterhood of Women


Q4U:

How do you hurt? How can a community of women heal you? How are you learning to be a real friend? How can you make friendship In Real Life happen? Click here: we warmly welcome you to join the conversation...

     

(in)courage
   
I'll Be the One with the Greasy Hair

  Sep 28 2011

Seventeen years ago, I pressed my forehead against my front door window while tears quietly slipped down my cheeks.

I watched my husband pull out of the driveway and head off to another day at work.  I then turned to look at what my day would hold- a crying baby, a messy house, and an overwhelming feeling of dread.  How could this be?

I finally had everything I ever thought would make me happy, fulfilled, significant, and satisfied, yet I was more miserable than I'd ever been.

Finally realizing a great husband, healthy baby, and a comfortable house with a flower bed planted out front all make for very poor gods rattled my soul to the core.

My whole life had been designed around getting these things that would finally fill me up.  When they fell short, I slid to the ground and cried, "God, I can't do this.  Where do I go from here?  How do I find you?  Help me!"

A few weeks later, my husband called and said there was a woman in his restaurant who wanted to meet me.  I glanced down at my spit covered sweatpants, ran my hands through my greasy hair, and willed my mind to override the desire to pass on meeting her today.

I couldn't handle the relationships I had in my life, I certainly couldn't make time for more.  Plus, if I got too close to women who appeared to have their lives together, they'd judge me for the pitiful way mine was falling apart.  No, my role was to give everything I had to my family.

But that was exactly the problem.  I was giving everything I had to my family with nothing to fill me back up- no one to encourage me past the hard spots- and no one to share practical advice because she'd been there, done that.

So, I crammed my diaper bag full and headed out the door.

Over the years, I've thought about that pivotal decision to pursue and embrace the necessity of friendships. Not only have they helped me personally, my friendships have been crucial in my roles as wife and mom as well. What I once thought would take away from my family, has proven to add a richness I couldn't have gotten any other way.

Here are some practical ways friendships can help us:

Find a friend who does something well that you wish you could be better at.  It may be cooking, managing paper piles, organizing kid's rooms, effectively disciplining her kids, or a hundred other things.  Whatever it is, ask her if you could spend time observing how she does what she does so well. Women love to talk about things they do well.
Choose a friend with whom you feel comfortable to pray. There is no better gift we can give our family then to be a wife and mom who prays.  Praying with a friend about our families will not only knit our heart closer to the ones we love, but to that friend as well.
Pursue a friendship with someone who is one stage behind where you are in life. Offer them practical help in their area of stress and weave in the wisdom you gained as you went through that same stage.
Why not spend some time today praying for the friends you have and the friends you've yet to meet.

And sweet sister, if the topic of friendships is a painful one for you, I encourage you to spend some time today reading God's word and asking Him to help you know what steps to take.  Really ask Him. Pour out your honest feelings, hurts, desires, and dreams.  God loves to answer those friendship prayers in His time and in His way.

Now trust me on this, go ahead and wash your hair, just in case you get a call today like I did all those years ago.

And if you haven't signed up for the (in)courage (in) real life meetups, you must!  Click here for more info.

By Lysa TerKeurst

His Faithfulness

Sep 28 2011

Never was our family holiday more needed nor the timing seemingly more inappropriate. For months we had looked forward to our family beach holiday.

As our holiday drew tantalizingly close, we were struck by the bombshell of my father-in-law's diagnosis of a relapse of leukemia.  If it's possible, this news was even more of a shock than the first diagnosis, a year to the day earlier.

Bruce battled leukemia so valiantly the first time around, through four months of chemotherapy, and five months of a grueling stem cell transplant. Having laid close to death, he had fought heroically and won the battle! Remission.  Such a sweet-tasting word after a brutally hard slog.

Bruce spent a further two months regaining his strength and had just returned to work for three weeks when this latest bombshell knocked the wind from us.  The leukemia was back with vengeance, and this time in his cerebro-spinal fluid. Immediate chemo was required to relieve the pressure in his brain, and yet there was no hope this time of recovery.

Judy moved in with us to be closer to the hospital. Our greatly anticipated holiday loomed with 10 days to go, and the overwhelming feeling that this was no time to lark and giggle in sunshine and surf.

Happiness, our fair-weather friend, was nowhere to be found.

Judy, in her kindness, insisted we holiday still, and as it happened Bruce was able to have a few days leave from hospital during that week. Our house, being close to the hospital and uncharacteristically quiet, made it possible for him to have respite with Judy.

Our beach-front unit was constantly filled with sound of crashing waves, and the refreshing ocean-breeze, slapping sea-spray on our faces each time we walked out on the balcony. We spent many hours on that balcony, reading, talking, eating, playing boardgames.  We spent many hours on the beach too, body boarding in the surf, building sandcastles, climbing over rocks and walking along the boardwalk.

We had a wonderful holiday, but happiness remained fickle, here some moments, gone the next as our thoughts drifted back to Bruce. The only constancy was the crashing waves, ever-pounding, ever-present, in the early dawn, the midday sunshine, the coolness of dusk. And still it pounded in the black of night, when all that could be seen was the moonlight reflecting in the white foam at the waves' far-reaches.

A few of our days were grey, dreary, and scattered with showers.  These were miserable days when even the weather seemed to have sympathy with our sorrow for Bruce. Something in me expected the waves to quieten down too; to join the heavy hearts, to register change.  And yet the waves took no notice. Onward they crashed, wave after wave, endless energy, a perpetual rhythm proclaiming a great constancy.

And the Lord whispered to my heart about his faithfulness.

His faithfulness is constant like those waves. Not for a moment does His faithfulness to us waver.  Not for a moment is it uncertain. His faithfulness is just like that perpetual rhythm of the pounding water, showing itself over and over, declaring His covenant again and again.

Never does His faithfulness hesitate. Never does it falter. And nor is it simply a reflection of our circumstances. Rain or sunshine, daylight or the darkness of night, inward-coming or outward going tides, even wind-direction does not halter the crashing waves.  They crash always and even-still.



And God assured me that His faithfulness is not like happiness, which delights in my company and flatters me when all is wonderful, but quickly disappears as my circumstances sour.

His faithfulness was established before time, in Heaven itself (Psalms 89:2) and his Love stands firm forever.  He is a mighty God, whose faithfulness surrounds him (v8). Imagine it like a cloud of sea-spray that surrounds those ever-crashing waves.

Breathe in His faithfulness.

Even now, 18 months later, and some 14 months after Bruce has passed away, I know that the constancy of God's faithfulness is forever the air that I need to breathe.  There is refreshment and hope in his faithfulness.

by Emma Leitch, a total Monet

:angel:

If We Build it, They Will Come

Sep  29 2011


For months, a post percolated at my keyboard.

Night after night, I'd ponder its context, attempting to formulate the deep seeded emotions in my mind. Draft after draft written and trashed. I scratched at my heart of loneliness, attempting to dig into this extrovert's new battle with an unknown territory.

My loneliness crept subtly, attacking in varying forms, and I was unprepared for the slew of feelings it brought with it. As an introspective person, I asked the hard questions of why this uncharted emotion became more prevalent during the past few months.

Are hormones in play? (Yes, as women, a very real possibility.) Have I emotionally isolated myself due to over commitment? Is it a situational factor? Am I turning to individuals to fill my emotional tank rather than meditating on God's promises?

As I narrowed down key influencers, what startled me were the overwhelming fingers that point towards the blogosphere.

Spending portions of time on-line each day opens up a mind field for Satan's attacks, and unless I ward those off immediately, it's a slippery slope of sinful thinking that permeates my thoughts. The trap of comparison, knowing I'm "missing out" when others are together, not quite measuring up, and wondering why I can't balance my time management skills like others were just a few missiles I countered on a regular basis. Even though I have met some of my closest friends on-line, I determined the need to stop reading other blogs for a season because those areas attacking closest hit through on-line venues, not in real life.

Honestly, I can be surrounded by an amazing group of dreamers – (in)courage writers who inspire me regularly to dream big dreams for the Lord, yet still wrestle with those feelings in an even more pronounced manner. How is it possible to be in a large group and still feel lonely?  In those moments, I turn my eyes to the Savior,  reminding myself of how He sees me; collectively gathering His arms to hold me tight.

My original post, titled, "If We Build It, They Will Come," dove a bit deeper and then practically addressed how I dealt with some of those feelings – by inviting others to share life together.  Yet I need to pause on posting that right now.  As I re-read it, knowing it would be viewed on the very day of our Sweet Sara's memorial service, it felt so raw – so unworthy of sharing space on loneliness. I haven't begun to scratch the surface on that topic like Gitzen Girl did. She choose joy and brought her precious life on-line when her  isolation wasn't by choice. Her life showered a living example of taking full possession of the abundant life that the Lord offers. She ward off deteriorating emotions, and for me, her life affirming testimony puts so much into perspective.

Right now,  my home echoes from energetic children, the phone rings incessantly, and I prepare for tomorrow's meeting of  home schooled families that I organize.

Loneliness, in this moment, would be an unnecessary choice and now I choose to savor the chaos.

Have you battled with loneliness lately? Are there key influences that you can pinpoint and name? I'd love to pray with you.

John 14:1 – Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me.
Hebrews 13:5 – Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, "Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you."
Matthew 28:20 – and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
Psalm 147:3 – He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

Jen shares her attempt at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, and invites you to join in at any time.

:angel:

What Women Fear Resources
When You're Not Sure How To Build Near And Dear Relationships
He Loves Me!
What Women Fear Resources

Sep 30 2011

We have two fun resources to share with you before we kick off the study next week:

1. What Women Fear App


My publisher created this app recently and I hope you find it useful as we go through the book. I have gotten some really cool feedback on it and I hope you enjoy it too. It makes it easy to share quotes from the book and see sample chapters etc...

And the best part?!?!?! TOTALLY FREE :)

In order to download it, just click here and get going!!!

2. What Women Fear Bloom Buttons

If you have a blog, would you consider grabbing the code for one of these buttons and posting them to your site? It would help spread the word about this community and encourage others to evaluate and face their fears.

We are grateful for Bloom and look forward to beginning this study together on Monday.

Love,

Ang and Jess

When You're Not Sure How To Build Near And Dear Relationships

29 Sep 2011

I grew up with comfortable familiarity wrapped around me like wide-blue skies around my Oklahoma prairies. My last name of O'Neill put me right at home on my country lane, literally named O'Neill Lane. In the very real sense, my neighbors equaled family. For my entire growing-up years, I went to school in the same smallish town followed by college only forty miles away. Not once did I have to work to meet people; family and friends were always there.

That is, until a good lookin' Air Force man won my heart, put a ring on my finger, and took me from Oklahoma to the moon.

OK, it was Ohio. But to me? It could have been the moon. I didn't know a soul and had to figure out how to build friendships without the crutch of a shared history. How do I get to know people – let alone form relationships with them – and be a part of their community? When the scariness of putting myself out there overwhelms me? When it seems like so much work?

May I share some things I learned {mostly the hard way}?

First Steps to Building Near and Dear Relationships
Fake it 'til you feel it. I don't recommend this for every life circumstance, but here it works. When I am in a new situation or with new people, I don't always feel like putting myself out there to meet others. Whether sticking to those I already know or plopping my alone, cross-armed self down in a corner chair, sometimes I'd rather rest in the comfortable, thank you very much. Feelings trick and manipulate, so occasionally I need to act my way into feeling how I want rather than waiting for the feeling to show up first.

Make the first move. Your Mama may have said this is bad advice for dating, but it's good advice for meeting new gal pals. As the Holy Spirit nudges, I intentionally walk up to others, stick out my hand, and smile saying, "Hi! I'm Kristen! It's so nice to meet you!" It breaks the ice and relaxes the other person. I've done the whole I'm-gonna-sulk-'til-someone-sees-I'm-alone thing, and it comes across as selfish and un-inviting.
Talk about her. Asking a new acquaintance questions about herself often calms and de-stresses the environment. Some possible questions include:
"Where are you from originally?"

"Where do you like to travel?"

"What do you like to do for fun?"

It may sound forced right here, but her answers give clues for follow-up questions. Before long, conversation flows easily and naturally. Also, arming myself with this mental list helps me practice being a good listener.

Sisters, if putting these ideas into practice gives you jitters but you know  your life is missing close by friendships, may I take your hand and {sweet} talk you into attending an (in)RL meet up? And if there isn't one in your area, perhaps you can make the first move by opening your heart to host one? Maybe local gals could meet in your home, your church, or your neighborhood Starbucks. Any place is the perfect place to dip your toes in the sand, get your feet wet, and embrace new friendships beach house style!

God wants to use our lives to impact eternity, and building close by, present relationships does this. While I can't guarantee these first steps will lead to near and dear relationships every time, I can guarantee doing nothing won't. As I live Christ by opening the door to my heart and inviting Him in, I possess the extravagant dimensions of Christ's love to give others, to invite them into my heart. And in God's economy, the more I give, the more I get. I then see how good-for-the-heart gathering blesses me most of all!

What (in)couragement can you offer to those needing first-step help in building near and dear relationships?

By Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies

He Loves Me!

30 Sep 2011


The daisies are scattered in the fields, their yellow faces laughing in the last days of summer.  They dance in the breeze.  They shine in the sun.  They dare me to play that old, familiar game–"He loves me, He loves me not."

I remember this game.  As a child, I would sit on a rock in the garden, plucking the petals one by one, trying to tease out some future romantic fiction.  It is a little girl's dream.  To be lovely.  To be loved.

And one day, I did know love.  Love from the Father, pure and true.  Love for me, the unlovely.  Love from the Son framed on crude bars of mercy.  Love that held Him there.  Love from the Spirit, who works His will in me, keeping me close to His heart.

So why, then, do I sometimes live my life in the way of daisy petals?  I struggle to understand this great love.  I think that my good performance brings His favor, and that my "mess-ups" bring His frown.  He loves me, He loves me not. In my head, I understand justification and "alien righteousness."  In my heart, I wonder if I'm measuring up.

And the truth is, of course, that I don't measure up.  There is only One who does, whose life was perfectly plumbed against the straight edge of the law. And He gives me His faultless standing.

So I find myself repenting . . . daily asking Him to pull me from the teeth of the performance trap and to help me live in the good of His grace.  He asks me a pointed question:  "Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?" (Galatians 3: 3)  And He reminds me that I am chosen, holy and dearly loved (Colossians 3:12).

Soon the long shadows of summer will lean into autumn.  The daisies will yield to October's frost.  But I'm thankful for the "now," when these happy flowers tell me of a glorious and unyielding truth:  He loves me!

By Julie Ruegsegger @ tracing grace

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Speak life

October 1 2011

"You is kind. You is smart. You is important."
~ Aibileen to Mae Mobley Leefolt in Kathryn Stockett's novel The Help.



When I was a little girl, no matter how many times grown-ups tried to convince me otherwise, my heart told me it was a lie–

Sticks and stones may break your bones
But words will never hurt you.

Mean words hurt me to the core, and when I look at how angry and evil the tongue is characterized in scripture, is it any wonder?
It belongs to a lion, a ravenous beast; it is sharp sword (Psalm 54:4)
It's a conduit of lies (Psalm 78:36)
It can be serpent-sharp and poisonous (Psalm 140:3)
It's capable of crushing your spirit (Proverbs 15:4)
It has the power of life and death (Proverbs 18:21)
It corrupts the whole body (James 3:6)
Almost as hurtful are words withheld; the assurances and encouragement we long to hear...need to hear.
A 35-year-old friend confides through tears the pain of a father who never said "I love you."
Friends who, because of envy or insecurity, can't (won't?) celebrate your successes...or who, if they do, with backhanded compliment.
The student who needs his teacher to notice how hard he's trying.
The husband who's desperate to be affirmed at home because work and responsibility is bearing down.
The wife who's desperate to be affirmed at home, because she made choices that required sacrifice and does anyone even recognize what it takes to manage house and children?
When you've wronged and you're truly sorry, repentent, and "I forgive you" is the only thing that will release you from guilt's bondage.
The capacity for words to harm or heal resonated with me in Kathryn Stockett's The Help; the novel first, and then again in the movie adaptation.  Threading together the lead characters' stories, words showered life and love, death and defeat, healing and redemption.

One of the most lingering images from book and screen is that of maid Aibileen Clark speaking life into little Mae Mobley, the daughter often neglected or ignored by her mother, Elizabeth Leefolt.  "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Aibileen tells her over and over, words she knew Mae Mobley wouldn't hear otherwise...and words for which she was starving herself.

Aibileen knew the words Mae Mobley was hearing were heart-hurtful...and she knew the words she wasn't hearing were equally damaging.

Again, sifting through scripture, positive truths about words and the tongue–

The mouth is a fountain of life (Proverbs 10:11)
Words encourage (1 Thessalonians 4:18)
Words are edifying (Ephesians 4:29)
The tongue rejoices (Acts 2:26)
Words teach (Proverbs 31:26)
The tongue can soothe & give life (Proverbs 15:4)
Expresses laughter and joy (Psalm 126:2)
Praises God (Psalm 66:17)
The tongue is the pen of a skillful writer (Psalm 45:1)
I know I've spoken about the power of written words in this space before (along with several other incourage writers), but today might I encourage you to speak life, love, affirmation, truth or forgiveness into the life of another?  Something they're desperate to hear?  Or I'd love to hear how someone has made a difference in your life with their words; in wounding, that we might pray, or in healing that we might celebrate.

By Robin Dance, PENSIEVE
:angel:

(in)courage
   

A Sunday Scripture

02 Oct 2011


Praise the LORD.

Praise the LORD, you his servants;
praise the name of the LORD.
Let the name of the LORD be praised,
both now and forevermore.
From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,
the name of the LORD is to be praised.

~Psalm 113: 1-3

Joining you all today as we pause to praise the Lord on this day of rest.
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What Women Fear: Introducing Week One Guest
On Empathy: Our Griefs and Sorrows
Needle and Thread
What Women Fear: Introducing Week One Guest

Oct 3 2011

Hey everyone! We are so excited to be starting the study this week.

Each Monday, we will introduce the fabulous lady or ladies that will be joining Angie and me to discuss What Women Fear. Then, on Wednesdays and Fridays we will post videos and invite you to discuss the chapter. Angie personally selected each woman based on the chapter's content, and I think you are going to be really blessed by the discussions.

Also, we tweaked the schedule slightly. Here is the revised version. Wednesday we will start with the introduction, not chapter one.

Week 4
Monday, Oct. 3 Intro women
Wed. Oct. 5 Introduction
Fri. Oct. 7: Chapter 1: Fear of the what ifWeek 5
Monday, Oct. 10 Intro women
Wed. Oct. 12 Chapter 2: Fear of rejection, abandonment and betrayal
Fri. Oct. 14 Chapter 3: Fear of being found out

Week 6
Mon. Oct. 17 Intro women
Wed. Oct. 19 Chapter 4: Fear of failure
Fri. Oct. 21: Chapter 5: Fear of death
Week 7
Monday. Oct. 24 Intro guests
Wed. Oct 26 Chapter 6: Fear of my past catching up with me
Fri. Oct 28: Chapter 7: Fear of not being significant
Week 8
Mon. Oct 31 Intro guests
Wed. Nov. 2: Chapter 8: Fear of God's plan for my life
Fri. Nov 4: Chapter 9: Fear that God isn't real
Week 9
Monday. Nov. 7: Chapter 10: Fear of God
Wednesday, Nov. 9: Final wrap-up
Okay, on with today's introduction.
For the introduction and chapter one, we were pleased to have our friend Brandi Wilson joining us. Here's a little bit about Brandi and a photo of her and her sweet family.

Blog: Leading and Loving It

Twitter (if applicable): @BrandiandBoys

Tell us about your family: My family is pure testosterone. I'm the mom to three blonde, blue-eyed stairsteps who are 10, 7, and 5. They keep me on my toes and keep life very exciting. My husband is the leader of our gang and still makes me laugh on a regular basis. In my free time I moonlight as a pastor's wife and work with a ministry called Leading and Loving It.

What type of fear you most struggle with: Fear of making a poor decision during a split second and causing harm to one of my children.

What is your favorite book: To Kill A Mockingbird... it's been my favorite book since 8th grade. It engaged me from the first word and taught me to love literature... and not just Sweet Valley High!

See you Wednesday to discuss the Introduction of What Women Fear!
On Empathy: Our Griefs and Sorrows

Posted: 02 Oct 2011 11:20 PM PDT

The closest I've every personally been to death was when my grandfather died in 1985. He died in Indiana while I was a ten year old in California.

And then when my grandmother died ten years later, I struggled to feel healthy grief when that happened because I'd had such a complicated relationship with her. Even so, I wish she was here to see my girls.

I know this makes me a bit of an anomaly, having skirted grief and loss like I have. Most of us have lost someone or something dear. Very dear.

Maybe we've miscarried.

Or lost a father.



Or we've seen a sister die unexpectedly.



Or maybe we've survived a spouse.

I know. I'm odd. I've not had someone close to me, very close to me, die.

But in the past few months I've had people very close to me lose someone very close to them. {And we've all lost a dear sister.} I've grieved by proxy and I've grieved from afar. I have made phone calls and sent cards and baked bread. Tears still fall. Wounds still smart.

But in general, my daily, mini-van life is, in a long-term way, unaffected by the losses of others.

Of this I'm certain: One reason why God allows us to travel through difficulty is so that we can truly say,

"I've been there. I have walked in those same shoes."

But what about all of the grief, pain and injustice in the world that I have NOT experienced firsthand but nevertheless come face to face with in a personal way?

I believe we are to feel as deeply as we possibly can. For others, for ourselves, and for a world that is bereft of hope. And in order to do that, our hearts must stay soft and malleable.

I will not say to one who has buried a mother, "I know what you are going through." Because I do not. But I can hold my own mother more precious than I have and let the pain of another family affect the way I conduct myself presently. The grace I give her and the grace I extend to my mother-in-law.

I have not miscarried. But I can hold a woman in my arms and let her weep. I can watch her toddler while she naps. I can love her in the way that I know how and I can weep because of her pain.

I have not lost a father yet, but I can call the friend that has and show her love thorough my presence. I can text her without needing a reply. I can simply say, "I love you," and do the things I know to do well (sweep a floor, fold a basket of laundry) without asking her,

What can I do to help?

{She doesn't want one more thing to decide. But she would love her dishes washed. I know that because, like her, I am a woman.}

So how do I help someone who is grieving when I don't even understand the same kind of grief?

Feel as deeply as possible. Carry as much as I can. And be as much Jesus as I can possibly be.

{He bore our griefs and our sorrows.}

I know empathy cannot go the furthest places of pain. It cannot be there at breakfast when that person who should be across the table simply is not. It cannot fill an empty womb.

But it can come to run along side, to encourage and to love.

What can we do to show real empathy to others? What have others done for you in grief that has helped? Have you been able to assist others because of pain you've gone through?

by Sarah Markley


Needle and Thread

Posted: 02 Oct 2011 11:10 PM



I wonder who she was.  What she dreamed about.  Did she have a husband and children?  How old was she?  Was she happy?  Was she struggling to understand her life's purpose? What did she think about?  Was she tired, drained?  I wonder if her hands were blistered or crippled with arthritis.  Did her neck and shoulders hurt at the end of her workday?

We know nothing about her; not even her name.  Yet she holds a critical place in history.  Not one of prominence or notoriety, but instead behind the scenes of a story that has been passed down through the ages and will continue to be for all of eternity.

...As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him.  And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her.  She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.

"Who touched me?" Jesus asked.  When they all denied it, Peter said, "Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you."  But Jesus said, "Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me."

Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet.  In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed.  Then he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has healed you.  Go in peace." (Luke 8:42-48, NIV)

You may think I'm referring to the woman directly spoken of in this story.  The one who touched the hem of His garment.

No.

I'm talking about the one who made His garment.  The one who stitched the hem.

The seamstress.

The one who sewed the cloak that He would wear on this very day.  I wonder if she had ever met Jesus.  If she had, did she know that this robe sewn by her tired hands would one day drape over her Prince's arms and shoulders of mercy, healing and grace?

Did she know that she was sewing for royalty?

She had probably sewn and sewn and sewn these cloaks many times before.  But did she have any idea that her purpose was to create the garment that would be the very catalyst for another woman, sick and bloody, to receive the healing power of Christ?  Did she know that God would use what she sewed to deliver healing to the life of someone she may never meet? Did she know that the legacy of her simple handiwork would live for eternity?

I wonder if she ever felt bored with her job.  Numb.  Tired.  Uninspired.  I wonder if she ever cried out to God to allow her to do something more meaningful...more impactful...more important than her seemingly mundane daily task.

I wonder if she was someone like me.

Did she know that the power of God would flow from what she created with her own two hands and a simple needle and thread?

I'll bet she had no idea...

And neither do I.  Neither do you.

By: Melissa, In Fields of Grace

:angel:

And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind,
that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God. ~Romans 12:2

We've homeschooled for eighteen years, but our oldest son attended public kindergarten and first grade. His first day wasn't easy for me, wondering how he fared in a new environment with new people. When I picked him up, his face was troubled.

"We colored apples today and everyone made fun of mine," he said.

"Why?" I replied—and I still remember the surprising combination of anguish and a desire to give a piece of my mind to every child in that kindergarten class (and possibly their mothers, too).

"I colored mine green instead of red."

Somewhere along the way I started purchasing other varieties, but at that time Granny Smith apples were all we ate. In my son's world, apples were green.

The next afternoon he beamed and told me that everyone liked his apple that day.

"Really?" I smiled, relieved.

"Yes, I colored it red," he replied, and something inside of me shrank from the thought that on Day 2 he learned conformity.

Behavior driven by conformity is the exact opposite of conviction-driven behavior. Conformity says, "I'm acting this way because of external pressure. This is what you expect or demand of me, but I don't necessarily believe in it or give it freely."

Conviction-driven behavior springs from within: "I'm modeling my life on principles that I believe are true. I live this way because I'm convinced that it's right."

As a parent, we recognize behavior that is governed by external pressures: threat of punishment, peer pressure, etc. Sometimes it's more difficult to identify it in ourselves.

Conformity and conviction are powerful forces. What about you? Do you feel that sometimes your behavior is influenced by a desire to conform to the expectations of others rather than by inner conviction? How does this make you feel?

:angel:

31 Days of Real Life
Have you seen the 31 Days series for October that Nester started? If you want to post a 31 days series on your own blog, just pick a topic and jump right in. Add your blog's link or click through to visit participating sites from this linky. I'm blogging 31 Days of Real Life on my blog and I'd love it if you'd join me!

By Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home
:angel:

Our gifted pastor said it one day, and when he did, my eyes widened in marvel.

"There is power in the spoken word."

Amen.

And when the words spoken are truths from the God-breathed Word, we have in our midst no ordinary power. We have ourselves a super power.

Through their Recordable Storybook line, the brilliant DaySpring folks have found a way for you to give a super dose of super power to those young'uns in your homes and lives. In these incredible books, you can record your voice reading Truth-spilling stories that will connect your heart to theirs as it points theirs to His.



Do you have or know a child whose mom or dad is deployed overseas? Do you have nieces or nephews far away? Maybe you know a neighborhood child who needs life-giving encouragement somethin' fierce. Or, perhaps you want to find a unique way to bless the kiddos living under your own roof. Whether you're across the room or across the globe, these books connect you to the child. When they are read by you or another loved one, the recorded voice tells and shows the child he or she is treasured and adored. What better gift to give children in our circle of influence than reminders of God's unfathomable love for them?

All four Recordable Storybooks are ripe with gracious words that heal and inspire. They breathe life into growing hearts. And when we speak God's truth into children's lives, those words are life. He promises it won't return empty as it moves, acts, and changes lives.

The spoken Word releases God's power to build super power faith. All He needs are a few super heroes to work through.

What child can you become a super hero for today?

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies



:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Introduction
Hey Good-Looking!
We Don't Talk About It....
What Women Fear: Introduction

Oct  5 2011

We hope you enjoy our chat about the introduction of What Women Fear. Thanks to Brandi who joined us around the table.



Please share what stood out to you in the comments.

Hey Good-Looking!

Being on campus this semester, as a student at one school and an instructor at another, has caused me to reflect on my college years as an undergrad. Of the memories of that swarm to the surface, here is the one I remember best:

As I was frantically preparing for a day of studying (the handsome men on campus), my contact lens ripped, and I didn't have another one to replace it. Opting against wearing my hideous glasses (and risk looking studious), I bravely set forth from my dorm to traverse the campus, sans vision. Immediately I thanked my lucky stars because walking towards me on the path was my tall, dark, and handsome man. "Hey, good looking," I called out to him—only to discover a few steps later that it was not my boyfriend.

It was my professor.

Smarter people than me would have dropped out of school at that point, but I wanted to correct my error. "I'm so sorry, sir," I quickly mumbled. "If I had known it was you, I never would have said that."

Somehow, perhaps in a grand gesture of grace, my prof did give me a passing grade in his class; but the real lesson I learned was that even ancient, forty-something year old college professors don't like to be insulted about their looks. The real lesson was that people are people—even if their age or gender is different than mine. I'm glad to say that I gained some much-need maturity that day.

I don't remember all my blips of maturity, all the life-lessons that have made me into the profoundly more refined person that I am today (no comments from close friends please), but I'm thankful I had them. Sometimes, when I remember events from my past, I feel like I'm in the mind of another person. Was that really me?

Change and growth are essential for emotional and spiritual health; if we're not moving forward, we're stagnating. Pursuing maturity is an essential and worthy endeavor. Perhaps, though, it's good to remember where we came from, to blush a little at our previous blunders. A little humility is worth far more than an abundance of wisdom.

By Heather Gemmen Wilson


:angel:

We Don't Talk About It....

I  am a talker.

I am a writer.

I am a people lover.

I am a broken girl in love with her King. I love my children. I  love adoption. I love reading. I love africa. I love my friends. I love to laugh. I love Thai food. I love a great cup of coffee. I love the beach. I love my family. I love campfires. I love mowing the lawn. (weird eh?) I love watching worthless tv. I love catching fireflies. I love u2. I love talking about how I got to where I am today.
But there is a part of my life I don't like to talk about. In fact I am afraid to talk about it. I am even more afraid to write it down.

Yet the other day a sweet girl asked me to tell my story. She reminded me so gently that part of my story helps her. That by being vulnerable I am telling all of my story and hence His story.

I am not sure when the depression started. If I had to guess it would be around the age of fourteen. I had been sexually assaulted and we had lost in the court system.

I remember thinking that I wanted to be valued. I wanted to be loved. I wanted someone to pay for my pain. So I began to look anywhere I could for someone to pay attention to me.

And as I searched I became lonelier. I would look in the mirror and cry. How could I be so ugly. How could I be so fat.  How I could I not do anything right.  How  could I not be smarter. How could I not be loved.
As these thoughts suffocated me I began to drown in self destructive thoughts and actions. Seeking out those around me that could give me what I needed. And as I sought I began sinking deeper and deeper.
Years, decades have passed. And I still struggle. Struggle with the self perceptions.

Struggle with the baggage I have brought. To my children. To my marriage. Struggle with the darkness that tries to invade me. Struggle with the fear of going back.
Daily though I need to remind myself of these truths.
- I am perfectly and wonderfully made.
-I am a princess of the King
- I am forgiven
-I am a new creation. The old is gone, the new has come.

So if you are fearful. If you are struggling. If you feel as if you are drowning. Know this.
-You are perfectly and wonderfully made,
-You are a princess of the King
-You are forgiven
-you are a new creation. The old is gone. The new has come.

And you are not alone.

By: sheli massie
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   
How to Turn a Bad Day Around

Oct  6 2011

I snuggled down deeper in the quilt. I was sound asleep, in that dream-place that feels good from head to toe.

I was oblivious to clock and sun and in a calamity of events, neither did their job.

The frantic doorbell woke me. I sat straight up to blinking digital numbers and jolted to the kitchen, dumbfounded that I had overslept an hour. My kids were still asleep, now late for school.

I sent my carpool, doorbell-ringing friend on and my kids stumbled down the stairs, grumbling and frustrated.

I pushed them to brush teeth and hair and barked orders that come with the hurried life.

Rush. Hurry. Push. Fret.

I dropped each off at school, hoping the quick prayer and apology calmed their abnormal morning.

Pulling up the driveway, I turned the car off and took a deep breath. Still pajama-clad, with messy hair, I sat still, trying to remember if my kids ate breakfast in our haste.

Guilt hung heavy and I bowed my head in defeat. Four words flashed: It's a bad day.

The clock didn't even read 8:30 A.M. yet and my day was doomed with unspoken thoughts.

I tried to find my routine, but failure clung through the quick shower. I dressed and sat down at my desk. The house was quiet, messy, accusing.

But then my day turned completely around.

It wasn't good news that cleared away the bad morning blues. It wasn't something witty I read or said on Twitter or any one thing I can blame.

It was a simple choice.

To turn a bad day into a good one.

I started over-with simple thanks, a word to My Father, a call to my hubby (spilling it all out), a reminder to myself that I'm only human and that maybe we all needed that extra hour of sleep.

I was feeling better with each thought.

And the Scripture I rehearse, His mercies are new every morning. . .I changed to every minute. Because they are. New, all day long.

I used to think when I tried to diet and failed, I'd have to wait for an entire revolution of the the clock to start calorie-counting again. And I would just keep failing all.day.long.

But a bad moment or hour can still be a day we give thanks.

How we turn a bad day around:

Recognize it for what it is
Look for the lesson
Make a conscience choice to be thankful
Give it to God and ask for a restart
We are all going to have bad days, it's just a part of the good life.

But we always have a choice to turn the bad into good.

What's the key for you to turn a bad day  into a good?

by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family

:angel:

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Chapter One
He Provides
Rhythm And Balance
What Women Fear: Chapter One

Oct 7 2011

We are looking forward to diving in today to chapter one – fear of the what if – with Brandi.

Here's what Ang had to say about why she picked Brandi for this chapter.

I have had the honor of knowing Brandi for several years. Not only as my pastor's wife, but also as a friend, fellow mommy, and small group member. I respect her for so many reasons and knew that she would have valuable thoughts about any chapter we asked her to jump in on. When I prayed over the girls we chose and picked chapters for them, I remembered a conversation I had had with Brandi very shortly after Audrey died. There was such a tenderness in the way she dealt with my loss while facing the fact that the "what if" fear looms for all of us. I just know you'll love her...Brandi, thank you for being exactly who you are and for blessing us with the model of a woman who serves the Lord and also knows how to laugh her head off and cry with us when we need you. Much love.


Please share your thoughts about the chapter in the comments.

Peace,

Ang and Jess

He Provides

My mom was telling me about a bird they were watching at her work. The mama bird was busy making a nest, in a tree, right along side the sidewalk. No concern about people walking so close by everyday. I couldn't wait to see it.

What I saw was this beautiful, messy, perfect nest.

A nest complete with pieces of a blue tarp, feathers, yarn, grass, some netting, a little plastic and I am sure some things I could not quite figure out.  I admired her creative use of so many things to create her nest. To create a home for her babies.  She made perfect use of all she was provided with. She had all she needed.


It made me think... do we believe we have everything we need? Truly believe? Do we trust that we have everything we need? Everything we need. Just like this mama bird. He provides for us always and He provides for us abundantly.

They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. Matthew 14:20

Left over. More than enough. Abundance.



We may think we need this. We may be sure we need that, but what we truly need is provided to us. He knows our needs and He provides. Isn't it faith to believe that?

The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Isaiah 58:11

Having the faith of knowing all is provided gives us open eyes. Eyes to not look past what is provided for us. Just like that beautiful mess of a nest. It may have not looked like something to build a home out of, but the mama used it and it was all she needed.

We have what we need provided to us. The question is do we have faith to see it?

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

:angel:

Rhythm and Balance

Summer naturally is a time when we all let go of any sense of routine that we might have and let things slide. Cooking, cleaning, academics, sports and so many other things aren't quite so pressing. But as summer has come to an end, I've found myself and many of my friends declaring how desperate we all are to get into some sort of rhythm. We've been back in school for nearly a month now, and I find myself waking up every day wondering if this is going to be the day, the week, the month that we finally find some sense of routine?

It finally dawned on me that it's not going to happen.

Rhythm is defined "as the movement or procedure with uniform or patterned recurrence of a beat, accent, or the like." To be honest, most of the time my life sounds like the wonky beat of some strange jazz song. While there is a basic routine to our days: we wake up, eat breakfast, head off to school, come home etc etc, there is so much that happens within each of those moments that can throw off even the closest resemblance to a pattern.

And I realized this week, that in my striving for some sort of rhythm, I am the one creating the wonky beat.
As I try to move my family within this beat that I'm trying to set, I'm not allowing their beats to sound.

So, this week as Monday dawns and a new week approaches, I am not going to strive for a rhythm to our days; I am going to strive for balance. Like a metronome that sounds a repeated back and forth, consistent, dependable, available note.

But it's not going to be me setting that note or me trying to create anything.
It's going to be the constant balance of me relinquishing every moment to Him.
The consistent sound of me laying every second down before Him.
I'm going to strive for nothing more than resting in the comfort that
He is in control and He is going to hit that balance
back and forth, back and forth and never miss.

I'm going to pray that the rhythm,
the beat,
the balance in my life is nothing more than His refrain.

by aimee, living a constant pursuit towards the One who knows me best
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Musings From The Sandwich Generation

Oct  8 2011

Sometimes the only sliver of peace in the midst of a busy life is right smack dab in the middle of the shower. Many a great revelation has come to me as I stood under the flow of hot, running water with the steam rising up to meet me. I can stand there under the shower head and suddenly remember where I left my keys, or that I still haven't picked up my sewing machine from the repair shop, or that I forgot to take the trash can to the curb and now it will have to wait another week until the truck comes by again.

So it should come as no surprise when I tell you it was in the shower that one day I realized I am a piece of baloney. At least that's the way it came to me at first. And I said it out loud. "I am a piece of baloney," said I.

You've heard of the sandwich generation, haven't you? Someone, somewhere (probably in a shower with a rain fall shower head) stumbled upon the idea that those of us who care for both our parents and our children, are sandwiched between the two. It's a strange phenomenon. We wrestle with whether it's time to take the car keys from our parents at the same time we try to make peace with giving the car keys to our kids. We wonder how to ask our parents if they need help paying for groceries while teaching our children about budgets and savings and tithes. We move our parents into the guest room and then move our children into college dorm rooms. Sometimes it's a tight squeeze.

And so it came to pass that one day I stood in the shower and realized I was indeed sandwiched between the two. I was trying to manage life between my own two teen-aged children and my wonderful mother-in-law who would soon turn 90. I felt just the way a piece of baloney must feel when it's slathered in mayo and smushed between two slices of white bread.

"I am a piece of baloney," I said twice to the exhaust fan straining to empty the tiny bathroom of steam as it billowed from behind the shower curtain. I squeezed soapy water from the washcloth in my hands and watched as tiny bubbles ran over my toes and down the drain.

There was no great word from heaven. No song or profound quote that fell from the sky. Just me and the steam and the water and the washcloth. And the fact that I know I'm not really a piece of baloney. A great revelation, for sure.

:angel:

A Sunday Scripture

Oct  9 2011

Psalm 23
A psalm of David.

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name's sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.

{Related link: Psalm 23 Little Lambs collection}
:angel:

Snapshots of Faith: Bare Your Soul & Find Your Voice

Oct  11 2011

A snapshot I took while peddling on bike

Don't examine whether your voice is worthy. Give it freedom out of your heart and you'll be true to who God's made you.
I love my digital camera.

It has revolutionized my life.

I am no longer limited to 12, 24, or 36 exposure rolls.

I can capture the moment with as many rapid fire clicks as I want — while laughing, gulping back tears, or half-falling off my bike pedaling.

I don't have to worry. I'm sure to find one or two good pictures out of the gazillion shot.

The best ones are the unplanned moments.

Candid. Surprising. Real.

Because of faith, finding my voice has taken me on the same journey.

This journey is called freedom.

This journey is all about faith.

Keeping Me Silent
The hardest part of writing is sitting down, to just start writing. Whenever I do, competing voices often love to keep me silent.

You're too sentimental.

You're too serious.

Critical voices. Opposite views of how I sound, leaving me no room to speak.

Written out, they blink harmless on the screen.

If these are the only voices I listen to, they put a lid on my heart.

They cause me to hide.

Baring Your Soul
Writing is like life.

We all want to find our voice.

If you're on the journey to self-expression — whether it be through weaving words together, knitting new friendships, embarking on new opportunities or walking through a season of loneliness or grief — I want to encourage you.

Give voice to who God has made you.

Whatever season in life you're entering into, God is speaking through your story.

Jesus wants us to be free from the voice of critics.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." John 10:10

Jesus wants us to hear His voice.


"The sheep follow him because they know his voice.
I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep." John 10:4,11

When Jesus tells us He lays down His life, He uses the Greek word "psyche" — translated soul.

Jesus bared His soul for us.

We can do the same for Him, giving voice to our likes and dislikes.  Even in our frailties and our greatest fears about our dreams.


When we tune into what God has to say about our voice, our soul is free to speak.


It's our natural human response to hide when we want to protect ourselves from criticism or comparison.

Jesus invites us to do otherwise.  Jesus whispers –

Speak.
You are safe because you belong to me.

Faith Exposures
God wants us free to live snapshots of life — in season and out of season.

As we do, we leave a trail of our true selves, pieces that reflect our days of stress, as well as days of sunshine.

The parts of us we try to hide — and the ones we like to present — all make up our whole.

Don't throw away the parts of yourself that appear to not have very much use.

Think of your writing — your living — as snapshots of the real you, which includes times of low tides as well as waves that climb so high, you can't contain the crash of inspiration and words.

Writing — or any self-expression in the moment or upon reflection — produces a beautiful set of exposures when developed by faith.

In God's eyes, the pictures of our lives capture beauty, like the trajectory of the sun rising up to meet the dawn and it's descent into the night, making use of every shade of thought and emotion.

Darkness and light over time will bring out the beauty of your life.

Step out and keep living your story.

Something beautiful is emerging.

It's Christ in you.




~~~~~

"I care very little if I am judged by you or any human court;
indeed I do not even judge myself.
My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent.
It is the Lord who judges me."
~ The Apostle Paul, 1 Cor. 4:3-4

~~~~~


~~~~~

How is God encouraging you to give voice to your soul, on your journey of faith?

Pull up a chair. I love company and enjoy hearing your thoughts. Click to share a comment.

~~~~~

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




** Don't miss! ** Today's post is { Day 11 } of a 31 Day Series on Faith Barista.  I'd like to invite you to join me on my journey this month — 31 Days to Feed Your Soul.

Click to subscribe by email and get each post in this series served up hot and fresh directly in your mailbox.

To catch up and read all the posts in this series –
... Click Here!

:angel:

One Gift That Reaches Farther Than You Think {Link up your review!}

How the gift took shape surprised me.

I assumed I would record myself reading the Recordable Storybooks for my niece and nephew. I pick up the sturdy hardbacks, flip through a couple of them thinking about which one would go to whom. Then of course, there was the question of who should get the extras.

"Hmmm," I think to myself as I tap the book covers. "My kids are probably too old for these."

So I mentally roll through names of family and friends with younger children. Just then my 8 year old {very} active daughter whirls around the corner, zooming in on the books in my hands.

"Oooooh, Mama! What are these?" she asks with doe eyes wide.

I hand her Bedtime Prayers and Promises and explain these books are stories that record the voice of the person reading it.

"Oooooh, Mama! Can I have one? Can I record myself reading it?"

"Well, of course!" I answer, a bit surprised at her enthusiasm. I guess she's not too old?

"Who are getting all these?" she asks plopping down on the sofa next to me.



"Well, I thought one could go to Hope and one to Sutton..."

"Ooooh, yes! And can I please, pleeeease record Hope's?"

I smile and hand her I Love You Head to Toe.

Later a son comes downstairs and asks if he can read his nephew Sutton's book. I hand him All Day Long with Jesus.

He reads and records. I listen happy that my big boy wants to do this.



After dinner I'm scrubbing dishes and thinking about their reaction over the books and attributing their enthusiasm to the novelty of them. That's when my daughter finds me in the kitchen. She tilts her head and holds up her book before saying,

"Ya know, Mama, there's just something special about reading these words out loud. I can't really describe it, it just feels good."

I'm holding my drippy dish sponge and staring at her. Perhaps her enthusiasm is due to more than the book's novelty? Perhaps she knows and understands there is power in the God-breathed spoken Word?

Later when she's asleep and I'm pulling books off her bed to stack them on the bookshelf, I notice she has written the name 'Philip' – one of our Compassion children – on the last page. True, his name is spelled Felipe, but no matter. I smile seeing how this power extends far beyond our walls and driveways. And I know she knows and understands.

I leave her room praying Hope, Sutton, and all those receiving the Recordable Storybooks know and understand, too.

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies

{If you are hosting your own review of these amazing Recordable Storybooks, link it below!}
:angel:

in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Chapter Two
A £2 Mistake.
Finding Time To Quiet My Soul
What Women Fear: Chapter Two

Oct 12 2011

We are looking forward to diving in today to chapter one – fear of the what if – with Trish.

Here's what Ang had to say about why she picked Trish for this chapter.

I knew Trish would be perfect for this chapter because of her personal story of betrayal and ultimately, a beautiful redemption. Trish and her husband Justin are open about a dark time of infidelity in their marriage, and in the quietness of our Bible study group, I have been able to experience the way the Lord has moved in her life. He is making beauty from ashes with their ministry, and her wisdom, tenacity, and sheer dedication to live a life that pleases the Lord is infectious. Trish, thank you for opening your wounds so that we could begin to heal our own.


Please share your thoughts about this chapter in the comments below!

Peace,
Jess and Ang

A £2 Mistake.

We had a barbecue last weekend on the huge grassy knoll at the University of Edinburgh. University students love free food, so we think it is fun to feed them and talk about Jesus. Hamburgers. Hot dogs. Cheese. We had all the things you'd expect to see at an American barbecue... except baked beans. [Um, did you know that Scottish folk eat baked beans for breakfast? Ick.]

The BBQ Master, John, needed to leave a bit early, abandoning his BBQ gear, knives, towel, and apron. I volunteered to bring his things back to my house, wash 'em up, and then return them, unharmed.

Unharmed.

[Can you see where this is going?]

Let me tell you a bit about myself. I'm a good girl. I don't like to make mistakes. I especially don't like when my good intentions backfire.

[Can you see where this is going?]

Fast forward: I ripped one of the straps off the apron when I pulled it out of the washer.

I was furious. Absolutely furious with myself.

Because good girls don't make mistakes and good girls aren't supposed to screw up ESPECIALLY when the good girl is doing something, well, GOOD.

[I can feel the heat crawling up my neck just writing about it... so obviously we have an issue on our hands.]

Operation "Keep This Mistake A Total Secret And Fix It Quick" began.

I found a little alterations shop in my village and I hurried down there, dropped the apron off, prayed they wouldn't accidentally make it into a pair of trousers, and planned to pick it up later that afternoon.

Afternoon came and I was about to pass by the shop with my friend Dana. It's about half a mile from my house, so I had a bit of a conundrum.

I could pass by the shop, never say a word, walk an extra mile, save face and pride, and go back later to get the apron. Or I could stop in and grab the repaired apron.

I'm in my second read of Emily P. Freeman's Grace for the Good Girl, and I thought, "Emily would tell me to stop and confess and pick up the apron." To accept the grace for this good girl's mistake.

We stopped and picked up the apron.

It cost me £2. TWO. POUNDS. That's it. Such a cheap mistake. But man, it weighed heavy on my heart.

I told Dana the whole story and she said, "I get it. But it's no big deal."

We walked quietly for a few blocks.

Then I looked over to Dana and said, "I think that as long as I am perfect, I deserve to be loved. If I make a mistake, and people know, then they get to choose whether the love me or not. I don't want to give them that choice."

And my own depravity made me cry.

It's a mistake that only cost £2 to fix, but I think it's gonna take a bigger investment of time to fix my good girl ways.

I'm still working it out.

by Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs

Finding Time To Quiet My Soul

As a little girl, I would spend many summer hours in my parent's swimming pool.  Taking a deep breath, I would stay under water and watch as all of the bubbles around me floated to the top.  For a few brief seconds, I was able to be alone and quiet my soul before I had to come up for air to the world around me.

Today, I wished I had a moment to escape from the busyness of my life.  Between taking care of my one year old twin daughters and trying to keep the house clean, I barely have a moment to myself.  My days begin with changing dirty diapers and serving breakfast as fast as I can to avoid a morning meltdown.  After breakfast, as I scrub the leftover food from their trays, I feel two sets of little hands grabbing at my legs for attention.  Then, these hands help me unload the dishwasher, leaving me with silverware that once again has become dirty.  My momentarily neat house is quickly ambushed by my toddlers, littering the Swiffer swept floors with toys of all shapes, colors, and sizes.  When I retrieve the dirty clothes from the bathroom, I discover my grown dog inside the bathtub with the girls trying their best to get in with him.

How did this become my life?

In Psalm 23:2-3, David talks about how the Lord makes him lie down in green pastures, leads him beside quiet waters and how He restores his soul.  As moms, we hardly ever slow down and are always thinking of what we need to do next.  When is there time to find a green pasture to lie down in?  It is exhausting caring for the whole household and it is hard finding time to be alone.   But, not only do we desire to have some "me" time, we need it. Life as a mom is always going to have screaming children and houses to clean. In order for us to give to our families, we must take time to refuel and rest in the comfort of our Savior.

I could easily view each day as a chore instead of a gift. Sure, parts of the mom duties aren't so much fun, but the opportunity to love those two blue-eyed girls makes the chores all worthwhile.

If I take a moment to rest and find my own quiet waters to sit by I can get a good dose of God's peace. This peace gives me strength to get through each day and enjoy it wholeheartedly.

Till next time, let your light shine!

By: Christen,  The Uncontainable Truth

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

--I Bet You Think This Song is About You

Oct 13 2011

I have a rash on my face. An awful, red, itchy rash. All over my face, my neck, my chest and, as of this morning, my hands.

The medical explanation is an allergic reaction, possibly to poison ivy blowing around the park on a windy day. The treatment is a long list of prescriptions, sticky ointments and hand washing until my knuckles crack. But none of that really matters.

——————————


A few days ago, my husband and I had time for a quick dinner alone before he headed to work. On the way to our new favorite Mexican restaurant, I combed my hair and reapplied my makeup. By the time we arrived I felt kinda-sorta pretty.

But the first thing my husband said when we sat down in a corner booth was, "What's wrong with your face?"

Now, he truly asked out of concern and had no idea that I'd been imagining him noticing my good hair day as we sat eating salty chips. And, he was right to be concerned. As I carefully touched my chin, I realized that spot I'd been mindlessly scratching earlier in the day was now flaky and bumpy and, yes, itching like crazy again.

As the night wore on, the rash spread over my jawline and up over my cheek. And by the time I woke up the next morning, my face was nearly covered with red, bumpy blemishes that were screaming to be scratched.

A not-so-quick visit to urgent care resulted in an inconveniently located shot, prescriptions and instructions not to touch the infected parts of my face. The doctor assured me that I was not contagious and should just enjoy myself at my daughter's birthday party that afternoon.

Easier said than done! As my family began arriving for the party, it wasn't the itching or the inflammation that bothered me so much. It was the humiliation of showing my face – my red, bumpy, ugly face.

I wished for a shirt that said, "Yes, I have a rash on my face. No, it is not contagious." I longed for a mask or a veil or a shroud of any kind to cover myself. And I wanted to just hide in my room (and scratch) until everyone left.

——————————

Several days have passed since the party, and my face is still a wreck. My mom encouraged me to look on the bright side and be thankful I don't have to go to an office looking like this. She's completely right, but I still feel like a leper, avoiding eye contact and walking on the opposite side of the street grocery store aisle.

Simply put, I feel ugly. I've tried joking my way around my feelings and acknowledging what a ridiculous situation this is and remembering that it's temporary and not the end of the world. But what has nailed me in the chest every time I leave the house or catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror is this: I. Feel. Ugly.

Today, as I was wondering about the surprising strength of this reaction, I realized it stems from vanity and misplaced self-value. Immediately, Carly Simon began belting "You're So Vain" in my head, taunting me and echoing those catchy words. The song might be stuck in my head for several hours now, but I'm thankful for the reminder that focusing on my appearance, my face, my beauty (or lack thereof) is never going to make me happy, rash or not.

I turned to the Word and was reminded that God sees our true, inner beauty – and that is really all that matters. No rash, no gray hairs, no wrinkles, no chubby or skinny parts can take away what He sees when He looks at His creation, His beloved.

Perhaps today your own face is blemished, your jeans feel too tight or your hair won't lie flat. Take comfort in these words of truth and remember that you are beautiful in God's eyes.

The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7b)
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. (2 Corinthians 4:16)
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised. (Proverbs 31:30)
Let your beauty not be external by the braiding of hair and wearing of gold jewelry – but the inner person of the heart, the lasting beauty of a gentle and tranquil spirit, which is precious in God's sight. (1 Peter 3: 3-4)

Are you vain? Do you feel ugly? Do you know (do you? really?) that the God of the entire world thinks you (yes, you) are beautiful and lovely and, most importantly, lovable?

:angel:

in)courage
   

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When People Love Well
What Women Fear: Chapter Three
Reclaiming Beauty
When People Love Well

Oct 14 2011



Have you ever done something seriously stupid?

Have you ever been misunderstood?

Have you ever felt the weight of a hundred bricks on your spirit as you dealt with regret?

Have you ever felt the searing pain of heartbreak?

If you're like me, you've probably experienced all of these and many more like them. And if you've had someone surround you with love in these times you know just how powerful the presence of love is.

Love helps to heal and restore you. It lifts your spirit and encourages your soul. It gives you feet when you cannot stand, and perspective when you think you've gone crazy.

Love.

I'll tell you, I find that the most powerful gift of love comes when you don't deserve it.  When we've done something ugly or foolish or impulsive and we can't shake it out of our system, but love comes anyway; it's like grace-rain washing all the muck of shame clean off us. It's gloriously freeing.

I want to love in a way that frees people from the muck. I know I can't love without blemish, but I really want to love people well. People, made in the image of God, all of us wounded and struggling, hidden and weak, need all the grace and love we can get. We fumble, we give pretense, we want to control our image because it hurts and its humiliating to be found out. But what if we loved all the more those who were "found out"? What if we loved ourselves all the more because we are already "found out" by the One who weaved us?

Living "found out" is a magnificent way to live, because although humbling, it is also the most surest way to be moldable in the hands of a gracious God.

Some practical ways to love:

Use gentle, gracious words

"Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body." Proverbs 16:24

"A gentle answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger." Proverbs 15:1

Forgive over and over again

"Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." Mathew 18:21-22

Make every effort to pursue and live in peace with everyone

"Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord." Hebrews 12:14

"Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification." Romans 14:19

Love for a greater purpose

"By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." John 13:35

Real love isn't mushy or a push-over, it's challenging and gracious and brave. Will you join me in the pursuit to in being a person who loves well?

What are your biggest hindrances when it comes to loving others (or yourself) well?

...

By Sarah Mae, Like a Warm Cup of Coffee (come join me in the Get Dressed! challenge-begins Monday!)



What Women Fear: Chapter Three



Ack!!

This is what happens when you work full time, have a sick baby and travel every week, three weeks in a row.

Earlier this week, I introduced Heather as being our other guest for this week.

But actually, Heather is not for a couple weeks, and Ally is chapter three (today!)

SO, I am going to do a double whammy and introduce Ally + share Angie's intro of her.

Thank you for grace.

Introducing Ally Bergstrom



Twitter: allybergstrom

Family: Wife to the amazing and always entertaining Blake Bergstrom, mother to the most wonderful four girls a mom could ask for...Madison (14), Moriah (12), Montana (10), Mercy (8)

What I fear the most? I fear failing.  Often times I might not even put myself out there for fear of not getting it right.  :)

Favorite book: Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers...hands down the BEST Christian fiction book out there.  Other favorites include Same Kind of Different as Me and Irresistible Revolution.

Words from Angie: Sweet Ally. Everyone who knows her loves her. She is the one you can call in any situation and know that she will be on her knees (probably at 5:30 a.m. during her quiet time...:)) praying before you can finish your sentence. Ally and her husband Blake have 4 beautiful daughters and have shared about the way their story unfolded. It wasn't the way they thought it would, and I have heard Ally talk about a time in her life when she felt judged and like a failure. She and Blake are two of the most faithful people I know, and I can't imagine Todd and Blake hang up the phone without telling each other how much they love the other. I remember when Blake shared their story at church and imagining what it must have been like to walk in those shoes, feeling like one decision could change your trajectory forever. I knew her thoughts on this chapter would be amazing and I hope you love her as much as we do.



We welcome your thoughts in the comments!

Love,
Ang and Jess

Reclaiming Beauty

Oct 14 2011



At a women's conference that our church hosted just over a year ago, the phrase "Gate Beautiful" kept coming to me.  I had often dreamt long ago of a ranch or a farm of the same name where we would rescue animals and orphans all at the same time, so I was no stranger to the phrase as I had long ago fallen in love with it.

But at the conference, I was struck with the urge to delve deeper into the meaning.  So I looked it up, right there at the conference with my smartphone, and I shared it with my pastor who asked me to share it with all the women present.

Those funny little letters in the picture are the Koine Greek word (roughly pronounced "hor-a-i-os") used to mean "beautiful".  The word actually comes from the word "hour", and is often translated as "timely" though sometimes translated as "ripe", "happening or coming at the right time", or more modernly "beautiful, fair, lovely".

Now, some traditions hold that the Beautiful Gate, as referenced in Acts 3, was the temple gate that led into the Court of Women.  Contrary to what its name might convey, this court was not for women exclusively, but it was the furthest that women were allowed to enter into the temple, except for sacrificial purposes.  Men and women would gather together in this court to worship.  There is also mention that this court held thirteen chests to receive offerings and charitable contributions.

It took me awhile to remember – it actually took two prompts in one week from Lisa-Jo (The Gypsy Mama) before it came to mind – but I was given an image of what being beautiful means that weekend.

I saw a vineyard, with grapevines heavy and sagging with fruit.  Not just any fruit, but ripe fruit ready for picking.  I saw that the hour had come for the harvest of this fruit.

Today, looking back at this image, I feel like it is confirmation that time has come for women to arise and reclaim "Beautiful".

Being beautiful means to be satisfied, confident in your skin, at your age in your time, to be confident of who you are and Whose you are.

By Bekka, at Moonlight & Sunbeams
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

For when the world tries to change you

Oct 15 2011

The job that was supposed to be yours, wasn't. The man who was supposed to stay, left. The house that was supposed to sell, won't. What do we do when the stories that were supposed to be aren't? Sometimes the life that was supposed to be full feels empty. The answers that were supposed to be easy come difficult.



There may be legitimate cause to bend, to break down, to remain hard, hurt, a victim. There may be a thousand reasons to stay in your grief, unwilling or unable to let go. We can stop there, if we want to. We can live in our world-mold and be right and lonely.



And yet. Whole only comes after broken. Healing only comes after wounds. Are we willing to go a bit further and see?

"By his wounds we are healed. But they are our wounds, too; and until we have been healed we do not know what wholeness is. The discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, write, is an effort toward wholeness ... How many artists, in the eyes of the world, have been less than whole? The great artists have gained their wholeness through their wounds, their epilepsies, tuberculoses, periods of madness."

Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water

The Great Artist — the Maker of stars and straw and soil — was not supposed to be a carpenter. He was supposed to be a king. To reign strong, not bleed sweat. To be served, not be a servant. To live long, not die a criminal. If we stopped there, the story would be unjust and unfair. But stopping there it is unfinished. And that is precisely the point.

Perhaps living is all about learning to see beyond what is to what could be. Could it be there is more to the story that we don't know yet? It doesn't mean that God is trying to teach us a lesson in our difficulty. Perhaps he is simply creating a masterpiece.

God made the world and then He came to change it. He isn't a principal, He's an artist. He doesn't condemn, He creates. But sometimes we stop too soon. And when we do, things seem unjust. Perhaps they are simply unfinished. When the world tries to change you with his painful, cutting ways, instead embrace the story, receive grace, turn around, and change the world.

For the month of October, I'm writing a series called 31 Days to Change the World on my blog, Chatting at the Sky. We would love to have you join us!
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

A Sunday Scripture  Oct 16


"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.

If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.

If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."

~John 15:5-8

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Week Three Guests

Oct 17 2011

This week, we are excited to be chatting with our friends Jenny and Jenni. Here's a little about them.
On Wednesday we will be discussing chapter four, the fear of failure, with Jenny Acuff.


Blog: no blog (but you might know her husband Jon Acuff's blog)
Twitter: no twitter
Tell us about your family: My husband, Jon and my two girls, LE age 8, and McRae age 5
What I Fear: I would not say that I have many fears, but like anyone I do struggle with fears that boil down to God being in control and me not!
Favorite book: Jane Eyre

And on Friday we will discuss chapter five, the fear of death, with Jenni Catron.



Blog: Leading in Shades of Grey
Twitter: @jennicatron
Tell us about your family: Married to Merlyn for over 12 years and we are obnoxious pet-parents to our Border Collie, Mickey.
What type of fear you most struggle with: I most struggle with the fear of not being good enough. I'm an achiever and struggle with finding my worth and identity in the things I do rather than in who God says I am.
What is your favorite book: Besides "What Women Fear" (of course), my favorite book is John C. Maxwell's "The 21 Most Powerful Minutes in a Leader's Day". This was the book that really helped me realize my leadership potential and how to best serve others through that gift.

Love Me, Love Me



We want attention from the moment we slither out of the womb, a writhing, screaming mess of "look at me!".

It's the one year old tugging on your shirt hem, wanting up. It's the two year old's fifth word — "see?". It's the four year old's constant demand — "look, mom", "see what I built", "watch me do a front flip from my table onto my bed", "COME".

It's the fourteen year old thinking of ways to get more than 300 friends on Facebook. It's the eighteen year old working hard on her hair. It's the mom constantly wondering — "do people like my blog?", "why didn't anyone comment on my status?" "does anything I do matter?". It's the husband waiting for the words — "thank you for providing so well for our family".

Affirmation.

We crave it almost as much as flowers crave the sun. Teenagers will look for affirmation wherever they can find it, sometimes in the wrong places. Some look to marriage as the answer — "my spouse will be my biggest fan". Children simply expect their parents to be interested in everything they say and do, and love it all.

We are born demanding it, we grow to expect it, at some point we realize we won't always get it, and then we spend the rest of our lives searching for it.

Acceptance.

We want people to enjoy us, to find us appealing. We want people to think we're talented, interesting. We want them to love us. Unconditionally. For who we are.

It's the theme of music, literature, romantic comedies. It's a common thread in the Bible — John the Baptist, Solomon, Martha, the disciples. All wanting to be noticed, appreciated, praised.

"Look at me." "Love me."

Our Creator made us this way. Fashioned us with a great big hole inside, a God-shaped hole. He wants us to seek affirmation — in HIM. He wants us to look for acceptance — in HIM. He wants us to deeply crave love — from HIM. It's the Lover speaking — "I'll meet your greatest needs."

"COME."

"Come unto me all ye that [are looking for love and acceptance] and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28 {my translation}

"God told them, "I've never quit loving you and never will. Expect love, love, and more love!" Jeremiah 31:3 The Message

Father God,
Whenever I'm thinking about blog stats or wondering if anyone cares, whenever my children seem to suck the very life out of me with their need for attention, whenever I'm looking for love in all the wrong places, remind me of your unfailing love. Remind me why you gave me such a strong need for acceptance and affirmation. Remind me to look to You. I might tug on your sleeve a bit, if that's OK.



By Laura Kyle, The Housewife in Town
:angel:

Friends this is an add, but you might like to do this so I am posting this today. I am eager to see what they are doing. I do not know how to post the picture that come with this e-mail. I do know  that I love the concept of this blog and think some of you do too. You know it is your option to go to this site or not. this way you do have a choice. God bless. Judy



What to Do When You Think You're Missing Out {Come Join Our Party!}

17 Oct 2011

My family's transient lifestyle means I've said hello to crazy adventure and glorious opportunities I never imagined. It also means I've said goodbye to familiar gal pals as I've missed get-together good times and camaraderie. I've looked at facebook pictures of friends and mentors livin' it up there while I'm all by my lonesome here.

With the Relevant Conference around the corner, I wonder if some of you feel this way, too? Maybe you read the twitter chatter and facebook posts about it and feel left out? I understand. I've never been to Blissdom or several other conferences, and it's easy to believe I'm missing out while all those friends and mentors I admire are livin' it up.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to attend those conferences or regretting it when you can't. But when I choose to sit and stew in left-out feelings, the door of my heart inches more and more open 'til the unwelcome guests of ungratefulness and discontent walk right inside and make themselves at home.

I love how Emily writes of the choices we have in life:

"We have a hand in how this whole thing plays out. You cannot always control your circumstance, but you and you alone make your choices." Emily Freeman

Maybe circumstances are such that attending this conference or that get-together is impossible this year. I can't control that, but I can control my reaction to it. So, will I choose to stew in what I don't have or embrace what I do have?

I re-think my circumstances and remember all the livin' it up I can do right where I am. My pastor's sermon from last Sunday comes to mind, the one where he describes koinonia as a hallmark of the early Acts 2 church. The Greek koine literally means "common," and the idea behind koinonia is fellowship, community, and joint participation.

Perhaps my left-out feelings are just a symptom for what I'm really missing, which is fellowship with friends? Being and belonging in community with others? True, I moved to Colorado only a year ago and don't have the largest in-my-neck-of-the-woods posse. But maybe I can do something to grow it? Or simply choose to fellowship with the community I have?

The folks of (in)courage have Texas-sized hearts bent on encouraging women everywhere to develop near and dear relationships. That is the motivation behind (in)RL. We cherish this community seeded online, but can you imagine the incredible fellowship potential in growing together offline?

:angel:

So what if, just maybe, you signed up to host an (in)RL event? Initiated a little koinonia right where you are? Maybe you're uncomfortable doing it in your home. No worries! Meet at a local Starbucks. Maybe you want to stay in your jammies and not go out. No worries! Invite a few gals to your home. The beauty of the conference that comes to you is you get to be the boss and choose what works for you!

Maybe just the thought of this gives you the jitters. I understand that, too. Maybe you're more comfortable signing up to attend a meet-up rather than host. Either way, can you picture the (in)courage community holding your hand and cheering you on? Because we are. Just look at all who've signed up thus far! Women everywhere will be in it right alongside you!

I may not be able to fellowship at that conference, but I can fellowship in my hometown community. God placed me here at a specific time for a specific purpose. Girls, let's stop believing the lie that tells us contentment is found in our presence anywhere other than where the Lord plans us to be. Our contentment lies in His presence where we are, wherever we are. And when we choose to believe this, we show ungratefulness and discontent the door as Christ steps in to take full residence of our hearts.

In Him, we are all (in).

Ramp-Up-to-Relevant Progressive Party!
Well before becoming an (in)courage writer, I was blown-over blessed to be the "Hope & Encouragement" sponsorship winner for Relevant. Since (in)courage is the premier go-to place for sincere, God-inspired encouragement, winning that made me bawl from the happy.

In honor of Relevant, (in)courage is hosting a progressive party with giveaways! Each day this week, one sponsorship winner will be sharing her heart as well as a giveaway opportunity.
To win it, leave a comment with an idea of how you fight the left-out feelings funk. For extra chances to win, follow @DaySpringCards or @incourage on twitter and like our facebook pages DaySpringFans and incourage. You receive one entry per twitter follow or facebook like. Just leave one comment per follow or like.

Aaaaand if you decide to register right now to host or attend an (in)RL meet-up, please say so in an additional comment for an extra opportunity to win!

Folks, that's a total of *6* chances to win! You have until October 31st to enter!

Tomorrow, the party continues at Jennifer's place, You are My Girls!  Jennifer's blog is a place for women pursuing the truth of their identity – the truth of who they are in the eyes of their Father. I love this because what woman doesn't need this reminder from time to time? And Jennifer, who leaves beautiful, heartfelt encouragement all over the blogosphere, has unique insights and wisdom on how to make this truth seep deep into your soul. Don't just visit her place, become a member of her vibrant, growing community! Follow her on twitter here or like her facebook page here.

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel: :angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Speak No Evil

Oct 18 2011



Recently, I said something that I promised to never say.

And for hours after, I hated myself for saying it.

It was ugly. It was a lie. It was a careless insult hurled in a moment of anger. I looked through my seven-year-old daughter who was behaving badly and I called her stupid.

Dread and regret filled my heart like sticky wet cement as soon as the words hit my daughter's tender soul.

I wanted to take the words back.

I tried to take them back.

I pretended that she misunderstood me ... that I had really said that the situation we were in was stupid ... but she saw through my excuse.

I then began to apologize and blurt out truthful adjectives ... but she was too wounded to hear or to feel anything other than sting of my negligent tongue.

Turning from her room, I gave her space and I reflected on my actions. I asked God for forgiveness and for wisdom on how to proceed.

That night, I tip-toed into my daughter's room as she slept. I wrapped my arms around her, kissed her head and wept into her soft golden hair.

The sweet little girl who can sleep soundly during a thrashing thunderstorm, woke up, placed her hand on my face and said "Mommy, I forgive you."

Weeks have passed since that ugly day and still, my words haunt me. I know that I have been forgiven ... by both my daughter and by God. I also know that wallowing in the guilt will only lead to more pain, so I am not wallowing. But I am more cognizant of my words ... my tone of voice ... my anger that sometimes bubbles up and out of me without notice.

Confessing my sin against my daughter in this public format (please know that me admitting to calling my daughter stupid was more difficult for me than writing about my postpartum mood disorder experience I had three-years ago) is my way of owning what I did. Not to beat myself up ... not to ask for all of you to build me up ... not to dwell, but to own ... to accept responsibility for my past actions AND responsibility for doing better in the future.

I must. do. better.

And to my sweet, sweet girl who may read this several years from now ... my heart aches knowing that I broke yours. Thank you for loving me and for forgiving me. You are beautiful. You are kind. You are wise beyond your years. You are smart ... you are so smart ... so valuable ... so treasured.

He who guards his mouth and his tongue,
Guards his soul from troubles.

Proverbs 21:23 NASB

By Angela Nazworth, who is a dreadfully flawed and lavishly forgiven servant of God. She blogs at Womb Woven and Wonderfully Made.

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Chapter Four
Responding to "those" emails
A Change of Attitude.
What Women Fear: Chapter Four

19 Oct 2011

We are looking forward to diving into chapter four with Jenny today.

Here's what Ang had to say about Jenny.

Jenny is just one of those people who gets things done. I call her often (like, multiple times a day:)) with questions, wanting advice, or just wanting to take a walk around the neighborhood and talk about life. She is so put together, but underneath it all she has the same thoughts we all do. I adore this woman and her family and am so grateful the Lord allowed us to live in the same neighborhood so we could share life. I remember thinking when I met her, "This woman must succeed at everything she ever put her mind to..." And, as is usually the case, I have been wonderfully blessed by her stories of "less-than-perfect." Love her heart, her dedication, and her attitude about what really matters in life.


What are your thoughts about this chapter?

Love,
Ang and Jess

Responding to "those" emails



"Dear Lysa,  You should be ashamed for writing a Christian book about healthy eating.  How dare you perpetuate the world's lie that we should care about such things.  I think your book is nothing more than a crass attempt to make money."

Ouch.  After almost a year of pouring my heart, soul, and many prayers into my book "Made to Crave," getting an email like that hurt!

Oh precious friend, those kind of notes slip into our inbox and leave us feeling anything but (in)couraged, right?  Whether they are addressing something you've written, one of your kid's actions at the neighborhood pool, a friend who feels you slighted her,  a family member's need to be 'honest,' or one of the hundreds of other reasons people lash out through email- it stinks!

Hurtful emails are an unfortunate part of life. And since most of us will get an ugly email sent to us at some point, I thought I'd give three tips that have helped me diffuse hurtful email situations.

1.  Start the response by honoring the one offended.

This isn't easy.  We probably won't feel like they deserve honor in that moment.  And maybe they don't.  But us giving honor says more about our character than their's... so take the high road right away.  Here's how I do this...

Dear Sally,


Thank you for caring enough about me (or my ministry/business) to take the time to make me aware of your concerns.

2.  Keep your response short and full of grace.

The more wordy we get the more we run the risk of slipping into defensiveness.  If something needs to be clarified keep it concise and wrapped in grace.  For example...

I understand how hard it must have been when you felt....

Might I share from my heart what I intended when I said....

Thank you for extending me grace on....

(And if an apology is appropriate...) Please accept my most sincere apology for...

3.  End with an extension of love.

Chances are this person is hurting for many more reasons other than this situation.  Why not be the rare person that offers love to the hard to love person...

With more love and compassion than these words can hold, Lysa

Please remember, not every harsh email needs a response.  Ask God to help you know when to deal with it and when to delete it.

But when we do need to respond remember there is a big difference between a reply and areaction.

Reactions are typically harsh words written to prove how wrong the sender of the original email is.  No good ever comes from this.

A gentle reply on the other hand, "turns away much wrath."  (Proverbs 15:1)  This doesn't mean you're weak... it actually means you possess a rare and godly strength.

I pray you don't need this advice today... but just in case you do, I hope it helps.

By Lysa TerKeurst


A Change of Attitude.



You mean it's really not about me?

I admit it, I can be selfish, I am also a bit of perfectionist. (Understatement!)  The two tend to go hand-in-hand.

I can get a bit wonky when things don't go my way or work out the way I expect.


I want everything to be just so.  When I am working on a project, assignment or simply dinner, I have been known to shed a tear or two or more when something is not falling into place, as I feel it should.

I want to be the perfect weight, I want to have perfect skin, I want to have perfect hair, and perfect teeth, I want to live in the perfect home and I want the perfect job.

At times, in some situations I have actually thought "I'm just too good for this".

I want, I am, I have, I can, I can't – I I I I I I I I I I I I I I ...

It would seem I have an I problem.  Recently God lead me to Philippians 2:5-7.    A fix to my I trouble.

Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus ,who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men.


My attitude – It's-all-about-me, what I want, what I need, I know better, I am better; I must be the best.

i needed a change of attitude.

Jesus' attitude –  It's-All-About-God –  He, even though He is God  "did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped" He "emptied Himself taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men". (A bond servant was basically a foot washer.)



Through out Scripture we are told to use Christ as our example, to live our lives as He lived when He walked among us.

His Perfect Life, His Attitude.

In fact His life, His death was – all-about-us.  What could be more humbling than that?

Do you think Jesus ever felt sorry for Himself?  No, i don't think so.

He had no melt-downs or pity parties.  When struggles came Jesus went straight to God in prayer and in submission.  He loved others no matter the shape, size, status or looks. He served as a bond servant would serve.

Hours before He was to be betrayed and  lead away to be beaten, tried and crucified,  He washed the feet of His disciples, even the one who was about to betray Him.

my idea of perfect is not Gods idea of perfect.  my attitude should be that of Christ Jesus. .

In a new song by Brandon Heath –  The Light in Me – there is a line i love:


"cause in YOUR perfection – i'm just a reflection".

Perfection is not in me, but in Him.  i want to reflect Jesus in my life.


Through prayer and meditation, in the Word, and in quiet time and in total submission of His will He is changing my attitude to one of:

Humility

Servitude

Kindness

and most of all

Love

i would love to wash your feet!

By: Caryn Poling, A Disposable Woman
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

My Story: Unremarkable Me.

Oct 20


I was never anything remarkable.

I was more the stay-in-the-shadows type.  I had a shining moment or two in life, but honestly they were really pretty rare. I was OK with that, I didn't feel a need to be in the spotlight. I was OK with hiding.

I always wanted to be a homemaker with a beautiful home to take care of. From the days of my cardboard Barbie houses until now, my home has symbolized a place of safety and beautiful refuge from the world.  I could do my thing and I didn't really have to impact anyone outside of my family or guests. I liked life that way. Cozy, comfortable. Safe.

As the years went by, I learned many lessons through homemaking. Not just the expected lessons like "how to decorate" or "how to refinish a table" or "how to organize my house." I came face to face with heart lessons learned at home. I wrestled with my own desire for perfection and striving for a perfect life beyond my means. I learned lessons in contentment and finding beauty right where I was. I learned that it was OK to be me. Unremarkable me.

About six years ago, though, I began feeling a little lost. My youngest child started all day kindergarten and there were no more children at home during the day. I had a home I loved and a family that still needed me, but I felt like my life had been pretty much wrapped around that. My home. My family. I felt I needed to reach out more beyond those walls and make a difference. But I wasn't sure how.

I didn't really feel I had anything to offer.

I didn't have any particular talent or skill or gift to share with the world.

It wasn't until I started praying for a way to serve God OUTSIDE of my home that He opened my eyes to see that the same passions I had IN my home were the ones He wanted to use. So I offered those passions and dreams all back to Him.

And He found remarkable, unusual ways to use my less-than-exceptional talents.

God is good like that. He had already given me what I needed. He was just waiting for me to be willing to let go and get out there and serve with what He had already blessed me with.

I didn't have to be something amazing in my own eyes or even the eyes of the world.

It was OK to be me. Imperfect, unique, flawed and unremarkable me.

I dug my heels in resistance at this thought, but four years ago, I started a blog.

I wasn't really sure why I needed one or even what a blog was, really. I thought of many reasons I should not start a blog. He reassured me I should trust Him on this one.

My philosophy often seemed contrary to the world's idea of a beautiful home. How could that succeed? He reassured me His messages were often contrary to the world's ideas too.

I was not a writer, but He assured me it wasn't about my perfect grammar or my {not} poetic way with words.

I didn't have any connections or claims to fame, but He reminded me He had all the connections I might need.

I was a Christian starting a non-Jesus blog. That can't be good.

But I was right where He wanted me.

I prayed He would allow me to impact a few. He opened the doors to reach many.

Eventually we were asked to start a church. From scratch. By ourselves. All the lessons I learned in blog building came in handy. He knew the skills I was going to need for church planting and connecting, so he gave me a blog long before He had us plant a church.

Then we needed an income to survive in church planting. Again, He knew how to provide what we needed before we knew we needed it. He in his great mercy and foresight, allowed my blog to become my business and expand in ways I never dreamed possible. The same blog I didn't want to start because I didn't have a gift to share with the world!

My blog wasn't about me and my big passion for decorating.


It wasn't about me shining my great light in the vast internet world. I could feel small and insignificant and unremarkable and God could still use me and make my life a little more remarkable. Because it was about Him. His greatness. His light. His purposes. And it was about how he saw me, His daughter.  I was not unremarkable to Him.

He is what makes our unremarkable story so very remarkable.

What is your story?
I bet He has an remarkable use for it.

Melissa @ The Inspired Room


:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Chapter Five
Not Weary
Lovely Limitations :: 12 Days A Month
What Women Fear: Chapter Five


Can you believe we are halfway through the book today, as we discuss chapter five with Jenni Catron?

Here is what Ang had to say about Jenni:

Jenni Catron is just flat-out wise. I don't get to spend as much time with her as some of these other ladies, but when we were planning this, Jess and I both said, "We GOTTA get Jenni Catron." She is so incredibly valuable and generous with her thoughts and passions. As a staff member at our church, Cross Point, we see glimpses of her gifting from stage and are all convinced that the Lord is going to do amazing things through her. She was so gracious to jump in with us and share her thoughts. Jenni, thank you for the way you appreciate women and their unique callings, and for being obedient in yours...we are all better for it.



What are your thoughts about this chapter?

Love,
Ang and Jess

Not Weary


I get weary.

I am weary of my house, weary of my routine, weary of my Recycling Man who comes in the late afternoon if I put it out the night before and at 6am if I forget, thus causing me to run into the street in my bathrobe.

I am weary of that bathrobe.

I am weary of my car CD player being broken since my preschooler shoved quarters into it last fall. I get weary of listening to only one radio station, because commercials on the other stations make me REALLY weary.

But a song on that same station spoke into my weariness this week and a whispered reminder keeps arriving – even when I don't want to hear it.

God does not grow weary.

The whisper came this morning while I was in the shower preparing a weary-inspired rant. Because, it's the big stuff that can really weary one...broken relationships, vicious cycles, forgiving, forgetting, and then really forgetting, when you happen to remember again...

God does not grow weary.

Isaiah 40 says it loud and clear. I always thought it meant He did not need naps. It means that too. But I think it means something deeper...something I am hungry to understand.

Beyond physical and mental exertion, weariness can be defined as impatience or dissatisfaction with doing something, with someone...with life.

God does not grow weary.

My faith depends on it. Each morning, as I rise, carrying my own weariness into another day...my assumed and asserted hope is in a God who has new mercies for me. And He does.

Yet,  I often live like someone teetering on the brink of despair. My daughters  know to say "Mommy's DONE!!" -   a phrase I taught them, emphasizing a point they should not cross....an indicator that I am standing at the Weariness Cliff, from which I often fall...

God does not stand at this cliff. And I am so grateful.

God does not grow weary...of me.

And so I repeat the truth over and over to myself. Often out loud.

So now I look even crazier on those Wednesday mornings in my bathrobe.

Yet, my newest mantra allows me to discover the Miracle of Grace all over again...a Miracle with  enough power to  strengthen me to start living my life with generosity, and loving my people boundlessly, and getting my recycling on the curb without causing a scene.

(By Nina, Songs to Sing)

Lovely Limitations :: 12 Days A Month

This month over 700 women are writing on a topic they are passionate about for 31 days in a row. I'm going on and on focusing on the Lovely Limitations in our life.  If you know me at all, then you know Nesting Place is all about our homes.  So most of the posts have to do with embracing the limitations in our homes and realizing that those are the exact things that bring out our creativeness.  I've learned to be grateful for limitations–like not having a bunch of cash, dealing with small rooms, moving too much–knowing that those things push me out of my comfort zone and into trying something new.  The Lord has used those things and others to bring about great beauty and great blessing {even a business came out of limitations for me!}.


Today let's talk about a big limitation.  And remember, limitations aren't necessarily negative.  Many limitations are neutral.  They just exist.



Over the past few years I've become weirdly, fiercely sensitive to how I spend my time.  We all have the same amount of hours in a day, but we don't know how much time we are really given.  I've learned that I want to spend my time doing mainly the things that only I can do well.

For example, I'm the only one who can be a wife to my husband. I'm the only one who can be Mom to our boys.  I'm the only one who can write amazing, wonderful, life changing–OK, fun, quirky posts at Nesting Place.  I'm the only one who can be my sister's sister and my family's family. If I want friends, then I am the one to be a friend to my friends.

My boys go to a University style school so they are in class 3 days a week and my husband and I home school them two days.  That means right now in this season of my life, I have 12 days a month, from 8-2:30 to do with what I will. I can volunteer at the school and the mission at the church, I can get coffee with friends, I can shop, I can get a manicure, I can move furniture and do projects in my home, I can write, I have the option to do all sorts of wonderful things.  But only for those few precious hours a week.  And clearly, there's not time to do all of those fun things.

Currently, I use those 12 days a month for only two or three things.



1. Following My Passion

Nesting Place is a full time job that I try to squeeze into part time hours.  I have help–Caroline is my trusty assistant and the brains behind organizing the Nest and my husband is a constant source of support and encouragement. Eighty percent of the work I do for Nesting Place is done during those 12 days a month.  Yep, I do my best to cram a full time job into 12 days a month.



2. Intentional Friendships

One of my very few goals for this year was to make good friends.  Real, in town girlfriends.  So, usually once a week for a few hours of my time I have the privilege of hanging out with my friends.  Angela, Caroline, Reeve, Kelly, Greta, Katie, Maria, Lorna, Joanne and Christiana are just a few of the sweet girls I've gotten to know more deeply because I finally broke down and realized I need to be intentional about friendships.

I even have to balance that because trust me, I could happily spend all of my free time thirfting with Angela.

I'm a weirdo who doesn't work well after 5pm, my best brain hours are in the early morning, so there are times when I get up early and work but for the most part, my body doesn't allow my brain to run in the evening.  Evenings are when I cook and hang out with my husband and family and finish laundry and take a bath and watch Gold Rush Alaska and read books.

Twelve, six and a half hour days a month is what I have to do something extra.

How much time do you have a month?


Right now, in my current season of life, if I choose to be room mom and volunteer for two or three other things, before you know it, I'll have 4 days or 2 days a month to run Nesting Place and to invest in friendships.  And when I step back and think about it, for me, right now,  it's a better choice for me to write and encourage women and have friends, than be room mom.  That is the cold, harsh reality.  My kids will survive without me being room mom.  There are good things, and there are best things.

Do you feel led to write a book, start a ministry, invest in friends?  Maybe you feel led to be room mom.  How much time a month are you fiercly protecting to do that Thing which you feel called to do?

No one else will protect your dream, your art, your calling.  Are you devoting your time to something good.... or the best thing for you and your family right now?

The best is the enemy of the good

-Voltaire

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

Planning Ahead for the Holiday Budget

Oct 22 2011

As the crisp October air whips through our valley, my dogs unearth their winter coat, and chili simmers on the stove, these signs typically signal autumn time in our home. Yet as I spend this month writing 31 Days of Balancing Beauty and the Budget, October alerts me to something a bit more pressing – my holiday budget.

Over the course of next two months, statistics state that 90% of us will buy things we can't afford. Quite frankly, that grieves me because I know the regret that will occur when January's credit card statements roll into the mail box. The plethora of deep emotions that come into play when talking personal finance and budgeting reach many of us. Over spending often comes through procrastination. By being proactive and thinking ahead now, hopefully we can resist the last minute impulse buys and creatively tackle the holiday budget blues together.

Get on the Same Page with Your Spouse or Extended Family.

If finances are tight, this can be a difficult conversation to confront, but one that needs to be addressed right away. Take a hard look at the dreaded "B" word (budget) to determine set boundaries for holiday spending. If digging out of debt is a present issue, consider having a family meeting to brainstorm alternatives to excessive gifts. Explain to the children where you stand this Christmas, and invite them in the process of making this the most unique and meaningful Christmas ever.

Give of Your Time

A few years ago, our extended family discussed what we really wanted our Christmas legacy to look like. We concluded it wasn't about tearing through present after present of things we didn't need, or necessarily want, but truly instilling a love of giving, serving, and focusing on the gift of our Savior. The first year, we began by picking one name with which to exchange a present, but now we spend our Christmas afternoon and evening preparing meals for refugee families and delivering them to their homes. The moments we've shared, and the life stories we have heard from these precious families fleeing their homes for freedom in our country have ministered more to our children than any present ever could.



We spend time creating care packages for the homeless which my family keeps in our car throughout the winter months. Since I have a love for bargains and use my coupons strategically, I gather stock piled items to create blessing baskets to give to refugees, as well as others in need. One of our main goals is to specifically use them this time of year as teaching tool for our children to offset the materialism that tends to erodes the soul when it's all about "what am I getting or is that ALL."

Many of us spend time making Christmas cookies. For over a decade, our extended family has put a small twist on the traditional cookie making days by creating plates of cookies for our neighbors (many of who we don't know), and them delivering them door to door as we Christmas carol. It's the little, simple things that make the big impact.

Creative Gift Giving

This may not be an option for your family, but brainstorm traditions and creative ways to celebrate and enjoy the fullness of Christmas without the stress of breaking the budget. Here are a few alternatives we have done for gifts over the years – picked names, exchanged "love" gifts (only hand made gifts allowed), shared the funniest gift for $5 or under, as well as observing the modeling of the Three Wise Man, and have given only three gifts. One tradition that has withstood the test of time is giving small gifts on Christmas, but then waiting to give our one big gift on January 1st. This allows us to purchase the main gift AFTER Christmas when everything is deeply discounted, plus it draws out the anticipation for the children. It takes a lot of pressure off of having all the Christmas shopping done during the busiest time of the year. Yes, this is one of my most highly recommend fun, traditions.

Who says you have to do what every one else does?



When it comes to gift giving for friends, teachers, or co-workers try something new by giving frozen cookie dough or homemade gifts. Not only it is a frugal, homemade alternative, but your friends will rave about it being one of their favorite gifts of the season. Hit your local thrift store and purchase beautiful second hand plates, bowls, trays and baskets to use as containers. Any of those will make wonderful packaging. Remember that with a $1 can of spray paint, the color can be transformed in minutes, so if it's $2 at a yard sale, but it has ugly, yellow flowers, it can quickly become a beautiful holiday red.

Holiday Hospitality

Hospitality is about creating a "Welcome Home" mentality, a place to "make yourself at home." A place to come away refreshed and renewed, yet a place where real life happens. Those are the homes that I want to visit, yet often, we hold such strong reservations about opening our home because of what we "don't" have. Consider that reservation a challenge to find all the things you do have that you can creatively re-purpose.



Food can be simple. Vases, bowls, cake plates, wine glasses and thrift store glass ware transform the ordinary to extraordinary for holiday entertaining.



One of my love languages comes in the form of a hot, brown liquid. Yes, I am easy to please, and I think your guests are too. By thinking creatively, and barely touching your holiday budget, set up a DIY Coffee bar. Not only is it a delicious way to draw conversation around the table, but guests go home with a gift bag they will immediately put to use.

There are just so many creative ways that we can approach this holiday season by balancing both beauty and a budget, yet it does require us to to be proactive.  Hopefully, some of my brainstorming has allowed your creative juices to flow.

I'd love to hear how your ideas on how you plan to balance your holiday budget.

Join Jen, from Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, as she saves where she can, so she can give more generously and spend where she chooses.

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

A Sunday Scripture

Oct 23 2011


"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?

So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

~Matthew 6:28-34

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Week Four Guests
Who Do You Think You Are?
A Portrait of a Free Woman

Oct 24 2011



The words he prayed during the (in)courage beach retreat - before our (in)RL brainstorming session – struck me to my core:

"Tonight we're weaving together the fabric of Your kingdom." James Barnett, President of DaySpring.

Whether exploring new social media avenues or dreaming up creative products and cards to bless homes and lives, the heart of DaySpring beats to weave the love of Christ into everything it puts its name on.

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:
What Women Fear: Week Four Guests

We are so thankful to have Tam Hodge with us on Wednesday for chapter 6: fear of my past catching up with me, and Heather Whittaker on Friday for chapter 7: fear of not being significant. (If you have been doing Bloom since the beginning, you might remember that Tam did a guest post when we studied Crazy Love in 2009).
I accidentally introduced Heather a few weeks ago, so check out her bio here and Tam's below.

Blog: "InProgress"

Twitter: @tamhodge

Tell us about your family: Married my earth angel 20 years ago. Brent and I have two children, Kassidi-17 & Dakota-15. We are new to TN, as of this summer. Brent is a Campus Pastor at Cross Point Community Church (North Campus). Our kiddos are both very musical and are currently getting involved with Cross Points music ministry. I am in the process of writing my first book. And, we're all a bit crazy.

What type of fear you most struggle with: Failing. It used to be death, sadly. But, since watching my dear friend Sara begin her journey into Heaven's Glory, she has, once again, helped me see it all differently and given me new perspective.

What is your favorite book: Oddly..."The Heart Of The Artist" by Rory Noland. Having been involved in the music ministry for several years I've read this book a few times. It has served me well in many areas of life. It is a "checks and balance" kind of book. A reminder to examine your motives for doing things... ie: God's glory vs my glory.

Who Do You Think You Are?


Who are you? You could answer that question a million different ways. Mother, wife, sister, daughter, blogger, writer, administrator, caretaker, chef, PTA president, lawyer, clerk and/or minister. Women have so many cookie cutter roles in today's world it's hard to keep up with our own uniqueness.

What is it that's unique about you? Do you have a unique gift or talent? Is it that mesmerizing storytelling you do? Is it your uncanny ability to see into a person's soul? How about your flare for style? Do the words you write minister to hearts? Are children drawn to you? Does your paint brush flow beautifully across the canvas? Are you a natural leader or a "get her done" behind the scenes kind of gal?

Whether you can see it or not God has created you uniquely special to contribute something great to your world. Your world may be your home, office, community, church, blogging community, family, or friends. Think about your sphere of influence. That's your world.

The key to finding your unique gifts and talents is to think about what makes you passionate.

What career would you choose even if you received no pay for doing it? You'd do it just because you love it. For instance I'm doing mine right now. I write... for free... a lot. However I love it and I know God has called me to write for His kingdom. So I write whenever and wherever I can. I also have a passion to teach others so I do it. Only the Lord could place such strong passions inside me and because I love Him I follow His lead and do it.

Another way to find your uniqueness is to listen to what others say. "You're a really good listener." "Thanks for encouraging me. I feel so much better." "Thanks for helping me solve this problem." "We all think you should take charge of this project." "I needed prayer and I knew you were the one to call."
If you hear the same things over and over it could be confirmation of a certain gift. Be aware of how God is using you in the lives of others.

I have the gifts of encouragement and pastor/shepherd. God uses me to help encourage others to see their worth and value and to give them support in life. It can be overwhelming if I don't set boundaries but He is guiding me through that process.

There is no greater joy than sharing your passion with others. They are blessed and God is glorified through you. But sometimes I wonder if what I do is done in vain because I don't see results. I begin to doubt. Doubting is a lack of faith. A lack of faith weakens the passion for my calling. My enemy is happy and I am on my way to defeat. However I thank my Savior Jesus Christ that greater is He that is in me than he that is in the world. 1 John 4:4 So it is when the Holy Spirit reminds me of Who's I am and why I'm here that the doubt subsides. Faith takes over and I begin to live out of the passion inside me again.

Join me and many other unique women around the world in living out your passions for God's kingdom. I promise you will not regret moving ahead on this one.

What are your unique gifts and talents and how is God using you in your world? I'd love to hear about it.

A Portrait of a Free Woman


Peace runs deep.

Because he has spoken peace all over me, called me beautiful, Spirit-born, I fight my inner dark, choose this day the Holy.

The spaghetti in the pot smells good, my kitchen like oil, my bed like honey. Men know my man's good name. At home he's Daddy. He trusts me with his name, and he likes the way I wear it. He'd take the way I walk over a lottery win.

When I write I cry. Because I've been in the clutches of death, when I write I cry and I feel it deeply, and I know sometimes it's good. I know the Spirit moves when I'm not afraid to love anymore, not afraid to be loved. I'm not afraid to give my best work or afraid that I'll run out, and I'm not lazy in trying to get better.

When I go to Zumba, it makes me happy. I look in the mirror at all the women dancing nearly together, and we're smiling so much our teeth are dry. I love it when my legs feel strong.

I'm not like a lot of women I love and would love to be like, good at sewing or scrapping in a book. But I've words and stories, and I've learned the warm-all-over joy of realizing my gift and considering how it might bring good to my family, even though the 50′s model is something other than I am.

No use comparing ourselves or in being unkind toward or jealous of another. It's no use being worried we'll be misunderstood or forgotten; our security, our only good, is one well-placed fear. I tell you to stop and sing it as much as you can: All-Mighty, my fear is only with You, slain, worthy, Holy.

See the future? It makes me smile.

***

Now it's your turn. Do have a vision (a truth to live toward) of yourself as a Proverbs 31 Woman?

Might she look a little differently than you thought if you wrote about her in your own words?

post by Amber Haines

:angel:

     This is just beautiful and speaks a "mother's heart" Wonderful........and most precious! Judy

(in)courage
   

Tiger Mothers? Or the Making of Velveteen Mothers

Oct 25 2011

The fifth child, he turns nine now.

The child I didn't know I wanted.



He may or may not be the one who confused the scultping wax for playdough the other night and put it in the fridge by that can of molding spaghetti sauce.

He is the one that our doctor called The Beach Boy Baby, him with this mop of crazy curls, the son I shear like a lamb by the certain request of one Farmer.

When a well-intentioned woman in the produce section of Zehrs shakes a cucumber at our son — tells us that that little girl had the most beautiful blue eyes, the Farmer says right then, it's shearing time.

When all his wisps fall to the floor, I don't know how to sweep up sheer love.

More times than I can count I want to sweep that under the rug, what John Wesley said: "I learned more about Christianity from my mother than from all the theologians in England." This is not easy, being a mother, and it is a vocation, a calling, and God's Word, it will not return void.

Before I turn out the light in the washroom last night, I see a muddy remote control car that some boy left in the shower. I am not sure what that means. Malakai, all boy, he would tell me all about it. He would tell me with a lisp and words said far too fast and he would tell me loud. Others wouldn't understand but I would. His mother would.

I remember him before he came, those months when he grew within and made me green, and me laying my head against a cold window in the dark of night. Telling God I just didn't think I could, and I didn't know how, and how does a weary mother become the dwelling place of Christ?

There are dump trucks and wagons and tractors left out by the wheat field tonight.

I sit with them awhile.

I know I don't pass this way again many times.



Tonka yellow and how many sons and how many summers and the way a boy bends over dirt, prayers for God to make something big of his dust frame.

How many boys made men, right here, rising right up out of the ground?

I pick up a dump truck.

How can rusty, bent steel make a mama hurt for all that's slid away?

There are Tiger Mothers and there are Dragon Mothers, but if the years can be used to make a woman only into this: a Velveteen Mother.

A Velveteen Mother — made Real by the years — the way grace can happen to you. And not all at once — but you become. And grace becomes you.

To be just a Velveteen Mother: worn and weathered down to the exquisite beauty of the frame of the Cross.

It's the threadbare simplicity of the thing: a Velveteen mother — softened and strengthened by the years, rubbed down to the essence of Gospel — like the Lion Who sacrifices Himself as a Lamb.

And maybe that is all — a Velveteen Mother is a mother who keeps bending her worn knees with prayers that her child may walk straight paths. Never ceasing to pray for her own crooked heart.

Never forgetting — Train up a child in the way he should go and be ready to forgive him. The Way he should go is down a road named Grace.

Why do I forget that becoming Real — becoming a velveteen mother –  it will hurt in a thousand ways?

The weary and the wearing away and it the most beautiful part.

The six of them, they have made me sing and sob and they have made me know my sin. Strange, how hurting can heal. Strange, how sometimes we need what we don't even know we want. Strange, how He makes ashes into beauty.

I have loved it here — the wonder of them.

I move slow across the lawn, into home lights.

There are Raggedy Dolls still out on the old wooden ironing board there at the back door.

There are wrinkles I've made that there's no ironing out.

There is that  — the wearing of all the wrinkles out with love.



And I can feel this, how I carry this in, right there in my chest — God making something big of all this dust.

The Raggedies, the Tonkas, the one wondrous child after one — this wearing away of everything down to pure, holy love.

This all the learning that matters —

love the indwelling of all the realest real.
::

::

::

~ Ann Voskamp


Q4U:

How has motherhood hurt and healed you?

How is it making you realest most beautiful real?


Tell us about where you are in your personal mothering journey? How can we pray with you?


Join the conversation by clicking here...

:angel:

His love is as gentle
as freshly fallen snow,
His peace is the quiet place
our hearts can go.

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Chapter Six

Oct 26  2011

We can't believe we are already halfway through What Women Fear. The discussion with each chapter in the comments has been so vulnerable and encouraging. Thank you to everyone who has shared their stories, prayer requests and wisdom.

Today we are discussing chapter six with Tam Hodge.

From Angie:


Tam has an amazing story. She's very open about it and I encourage you to visit her blog to hear more from her. Many years ago, she had an abortion and walked through some very dark days. I know bits and pieces of her story, and every time I'm with her I want to know more because they are all like little pieces of a quilt that I want to piece together and see the finished product. She is a work of art and an inspiration of what it looks like to walk away from a past that could have swallowed her and instead walk right into the place where God's great grace is on full display for all to see. You will be so blessed by her heart.

We hope you are blessed by our discussion today.



And if you haven't been participating, or are a bit behind with your reading, that's okay! You can always find the posts here on (in)courage, so watch the videos at your own pace and share your thoughts anytime.

We are thankful  to journey through this book with you.

Love,

Ang and Jess

Who's Your Daddy?


I have been wanting to write about this for some time but, didn't really know how to convey it.

It's like a large Thank You card to God Himself.

Three years ago this November I watched my mother pass from this life to an eternal life. She left me before I was ready. She died of ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) which constantly takes from a person and we (medical or not) are ill equipped to stop the process. Laurie Sgambelluri was an amazing mother. Strong, stubborn, giving, affectionate, wise and encouraging. When she left, I struggled. I would go through moments when I almost thought she was still here, like I smelled her or faintly heard her voice in another room and if I could move fast enough, I could catch a glimpse of her. It was like we had just embraced and let go. In those brief moments, between phantom feelings and reality, I would feel the loss of her fall fresh on me.

Father God stayed with me.

He carried me. He cried with me. He took my blows when I had no one to pummel. He created space for me to grieve.

Then lovingly, He set my feet on the floor. He moved me forward. He restored my heart. He deepened my faith.

Then, the undeserved things started to happen; He gave me ministry. One that grew and reminded me about love, humility and leading.

And then...one summer day on vacation with my husband and children. The Creator of the Universe, loved me enough to be not only my Father, Director, Lord and King but my daddy.

He let me be in a parade in at Disney World! No, seriously! Disney World! We were walking along and a man starting speaking to my husband, Brad, and asking us to come back to these gates at 4pm and we would participate in the afternoon parade. We were placed on a large float shaped like a turquoise bird. They outfitted us in pith helmets complete with mickey ears and a safari vest. The music began, the enormous gates opened and we moved. The waving came very natural to me, no demure parade wave for this Italian girl, I was full out, straight armed, fingers stretched, waving! A Disney photographer followed us along the parade route and took photos and it was one of the BEST days of my life!

And my sweet Father in Heaven, who sacrificed His Son for me knew it would be.

Matthew 6:8 says For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him

You can challenge me and tell me God would not sully Himself by caring about a little parade route in Florida, I would object, maybe not openly, as I love the Word and see your point, but inwardly, I would feel a little sad for you. My Dad loves me like this. He loves me shockingly, openly, with discipline and grace.

And yes, He loves me with parades at Disney World.

I want to know;  when has He loved you just as Unabashedly?  I know I am not the only one who has God's love heaped upon them?  What is your story of your Daddy's great love for you?

By: Tonia Booker, With-Pencil

:angel:

Because People Are More Interesting Than Statistics

27 Oct 2011
We ride through the Pennsylvania trees on our way to the Relevant conference – two and half hours of open road and autumn miles — mere appetizers for girl talk; we can't wait to dig in.

I ask her about writing – about her voice and what it sounds like this last semester of college. She asks me about social media and the public conversation that is a place like Twitter and how's a girl to feel heard when she's not comfortable shouting in a room full of strangers.

I know farmer's wives and  brave authors who feel just the same way.

Sometimes it's hard to know when to speak and when to listen. Sometimes it's even harder to speak when you think no one's listening.

And when we pass the big grain silo and the barn with red paint peeling raw against the cornfield horizon, she asks if her voice matters. If there are only one or two who come to see what she's sharing at her blog, is hitting publish still important?

This question scratches at me too.

And I'll be asking and answering and sharing ideas about it on Saturday. But for now as we weave our way toward Harrisburg, I think about how social media gives us powerful ways to build, to connect, to give. How it hands us new and wonderful ways to live that old and grand command to love our neighbors as ourselves.

It is a dead end to pursue social media in the hopes of building more followers. Numbers are a house of sand, washed easily away on a whim.

But to build community – to build  a place rich with the stories and faces and hopes and dreams of others – to build for them, that is rock solid foundation for the only Message that matters.

I tell her, perhaps it's not about who doesn't come to read, it's about who does. And are we prepared for them? What will we feed the hungry who pull up chairs to our blog table?

Forget the hundreds you wish would come; feed the hungry who are already there.

Feed them your best. Lay out your story and your life and your generous love for them. Perhaps our blogs are only as big as our hospitality. Because platforms can be lonely and spotlights too bright, but no one ever felt unwelcome in that overstuffed armchair pulled up by the fire, with feet up on the coffee table, and a good friend telling you it's OK to be you.

Perhaps less is more in the comment box just like it is in life. Especially if it gives you time to respond, to encourage, to enjoy the company and conversation of comments for what they really are – people with stories as thick and dog-eared as your own.

One on one, we don't need to shout. The room isn't crowded. And truth spills out when you hit publish – even at a whisper.

by Lisa-Jo, lover of social media and believer that it's great power can be harnessed for great good.

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   
What Women Fear: Chapter Seven
Overcoming Jealousy
More
What Women Fear: Chapter Seven

Oct 28 2011

Today we are discussing chapter seven of What Women Fear with Heather Whittaker.

From Angie:

Heather is one of my closest friends, and I can't tell you how grateful I am that she has moved close to me. I love the way she pulls people out of themselves and strives for life-change and commitment to relationship. She loves deep and she loves well. Like all of us, she has her stories of loss and redemption. She has walked through seasons of life that could have stolen her heart and pulled her away from the Lord, but instead she is such a bright light for others. She is one of the most ruthlessly dedicated people I have ever known, and I wanted her to do this chapter because I wanted to know if she had feelings of insignificance. I loved hearing her heart in this...you will as well. Thank you, Heather.

We look forward to hearing your thoughts as well!

Love,

Angie and Jess

Overcoming Jealousy

Source: ticklekitten.blogspot.com via Jessica on Pinterest
I have a difficult confession to share today.

Lately I have found myself playing the jealousy game.

And it is wearing. me. out.

She is skinnier than me.

Look at that outfit, she must be rich.

I wish we had a minivan like that. (side note: yes, I'm a dork. I really want a minivan)


I wish our house would sell fast like their's did.

Why does that blogger always get to go on trips?

Does Satan challenge torment you to a match of jealousy?

Who's winning?

For awhile I have let my jealous thoughts come and go as they please. I didn't  even really recognize them jealousy. Instead, I thought I was just "observing" things.

mmmhhmmmmm.


But as I have prayed and asked God to show me sin in my life, my jealousy has come to the forefront of my mind.

God has shown me through His word that jealousy is a sin that impacts my relationship with Him and so many aspects of life. Read these verses:

James 3:14-16 says: But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.

Galatians 5:19-21: Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

Proverbs 14:30: A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot

Clearly, jealousy should have no place in my heart.

And so, every time a jealous thought enters my mind, I flip the thought and give thanks.

Instead of I wish we had a minivan like that, I give thanks for the two paid-off vehicles we have.

Instead of I wish our house would sell fast like their's did, I praise God for his perfect timing for when we DO sell our house.

Gratitude heals and prevents jealousy.

Do you ever struggle with jealousy? Today, I want to encourage you  to pray over the verses in this post and ask God to open your eyes to the many blessings in your life.

You might also check out Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts if you are interested in learning more about living a life of gratitude. I am reading it for the third time right now. I also love this family gratitude journal for cultivating a grateful lifestyle in my family.


- Jessica Turner, The Mom Creative

More

We live in a world that suggests bigger is better and that the grass is always greener on the other side. We try to keep up with the Jones's. A nationwide electronic chain store now even offers a buy-back program...they will buy back your "old" TV (you know, the one you bought three months ago) when the new version comes out. Because we MUST have the newest version of everything.

I feel the pressure in my own life, too. My husband and our three children live in a modest, just-over 1000 square-foot home with three bedrooms, one bathroom and half a basement. Pretty much every wall, corner, closet and shelf is occupied. And I suppose, if I tried hard enough, I could squeeze my van into our garage in case of a hail storm. But I may not get it back out.

I would love to have a larger home with bedrooms for each of the kids, or at least an extra bedroom that would serve as a playroom...because for some reason our kids refuse to play in our basement. Oh, and I would love to have a dedicated office for bills, writing and all the other adventures I have taken on lately.

I want a driveway all our own instead of sharing one with our neighbor. I want a screened-in patio, a double car garage, a large storage shed, a workshop for my husband, a full basement and a second bathroom .

I want the A/C and DVD player to get fixed in the van and my husband could use a newer pick-up with a bed cover for storing tools and his fire gear. He also would like a raise at his job because he hasn't gotten one in over three years due to budget issues.

My oldest daughter wants a new dress for picture day.

Oh, and world peace would be nice, too.

But do any of these things actually matter? (Well, except world peace, of course.) Because if we got all of these things, wouldn't we just find other things that we want instead? Wouldn't we still want more?

We spend our lives constantly seeking more of everything, except the one thing we should be seeking more of.

Him.

So today I throw my wish list in the fire. I surrender to the fact that there is One who provides all of my needs. Even without my 1000 square foot home. Even without half a basement or....even without actually possessing anything...He is enough.

He is what we need more of.

By Sarah Hawbaker, In Total Disarray
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

A Sunday Scripture

Oct 30 2011

Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

~Habakkuk 3:17-18
 

A Word of Peace
Peace I leave with you;
My peace I give you.
-- JESUS

Praying the Lord will
comfort you with His peace...
surround you with His love...
encourage you with His presence.

:angel:

What Women Fear: Week Five Guests

Oct 31 2011

This week we will be chatting with two women you have already met – Jenny Acuff on Wednesay and Trisha Davis on Friday.
Also, just a reminder, our study of What Women Fear concludes next week. We will be covering chapter 10 on Monday and then Ang will wrap things up for us next Wednesday.
It sure has gone fast, hasn't it?
Talk with you soon!
In Him,

Ang and Jess
on pursuing...

Sitting by her hospital bed, I stroked her hair.  She was my miracle; the one that I had pursued with and for over the last 9 years. I looked over at the medicine pumps on the poles that we had drug around the Intensive Care Unit over the past 3 months.

15.

Fifteen pumps on 3 poles.  I put my hand on  her chest, and felt it rhythmically going up and down with the help of a machine.   I remember what I told her the day she was born, "I will fight for you for as long as you fight."

I whispered those exact words into her ear while I pressed my head against her cheek.

I remember the scripture that was heavy on my heart those four and a half months that she spent in NICU, waiting for a heart transplant:

"Pursue: for you shall surely overtake them, and without fail recover all."  ~1 Samuel 30:8b


Sitting In ICU, 9 years later, I wondered what that verse meant now.  I wondered what I had pursued for and what to do with all that "pursuing".  I didn't "recover all" because I knew she wouldn't be coming home this time..

Emma Grace passed away on Good Friday.  April 22, 2011.

She had recovered all.

She had pursued all that she could.

Which meant that my pursuing with her was over.

Yet, my pursuing with my Savior was far from that.

I thought I was prepared for that day.

I  so was not.

I didn't know what to do with myself.  One day I was sitting by her bed, stroking her hair; the next day she just wasn't there.  I really struggled with what to "be" with out her here.  I was always "Emma's Mom".

I was lost without her.

I still am.

I knew of Gods grace because He allowed her to be born. I knew of Gods mercy because he always brought her home.

I am learning His sovereignty, because this last time He didn't...

5+ months later, I am still learning about His sovereignty.  I am still learning what "pursuing" truly means.  Not a day goes by that I do not miss my little girl, but I can pursue through this pain because I know that this life is just a speck in time.  I know that I will see her and touch her again.  I know that my ways are not His ways, even though that is so hard to understand.

And I know that she is looking down, saying "Mom, if you could only see what I see..."

And that makes the "pursuing" so very worth it....

{if you haven't read the  book "Choosing to See" by Mary Beth Chapman or listened to  the CD "Beauty Will Rise" by Steven Curtis Chapman, I highly recommend you do so.  Also if you have lost a child, I highly recommend the book "Praying through Sorrows" by Christ Jackson and Dutch Sheets. I also recommend "Heaven" by Randy Alcorn, which gives a very biblical  description of what Heaven looks like.}
:angel:

This Is Your Daughter Speaking


Hi Mom.

I can tell you're a little surprised to see me here.

Perhaps that's because, until now, you thought I could only do two things: eat and cry. Or perhaps you're surprised I followed you here, since lately I seem interested in anything except what you say and do. Or perhaps you even thought I'd forgotten about you, all the way out there in "the real world".

Well, no matter what you're thinking, I want to share a few things with you.

First of all, I do hear you.

It may seem like I'm not listening, but I am picking up so much. It is true that there are times when your instructions run right through my ears, but I always hear you say,  "I love you." I always hear you say, "I'm proud of you."

Oh, and I always hear you when you say, "I'm disappointed in you," but I know that this doesn't change your love for me.

I hear you sing the Winnie-The-Pooh theme song 468 times in the car just so I won't cry and in the middle of the grocery store (even though everyone stares at you).

I hear you praying silently for me when I'm already up on stage, in costume and can't remember a single line (even though you told me I should practice them).

I hear you calling to make sure everything's lined up for play dates and dentist appointments and to see if I got there safely, because I forgot to call when I arrived...again.

I hear you sigh at the end of a long day and tell Dad that you sometimes wonder if you're getting through at all.

Well, you are.

Secondly, I am watching you.

Though sometimes I act like I don't care, I am watching you. I'm watching you work hard to take care of our family and when you read your Bible late at night after you think we're all in bed. I'm watching when you run your fingers through your hair and look up to heaven, straight through the laundry room ceiling, as if to say, "All this and laundry too, Lord?"

I'm watching you check the rearview mirror a hundred times to make sure that yes, I'm still in the car, safely buckled in. I'm watching you check my temperature with a thermometer and, not satisfied; check it with the back of your hand.

I'm watching when you greet dad at the door and when you let him make the final decision (even though you're right). I'm watching when you pay stacks of bills and check price tags and put off dreams.

I'm watching when you almost tell me that what I'm wearing is weird and my haircut does not make me look older, but I'm also watching when you smile and tell me that I am a beautiful no matter what.


I see it, Mom.


Third, I was God's daughter first.

Even if I sometimes seem to be far from heavenly, remember that I am a child of God. The whole time I was kicking and flipping and growing inside of you, He was knitting me together.

When you held me for the first time and wondered if you were going to be a good mom, when you packed my backpack for Kindergarten and wondered if you'd been a good teacher, when you watched me speed off down the road and wondered how you were ever going to protect me now, God was in control.

You're not alone, you're not a failure and to me, you're everything.

Thanks Mom.

Love,

Your Daughter

{Everly Pleasant of Clickety-Clack}
:angel:

   

Truth Within

  Nov 1 2011

Behold, You desire truth in the inward parts, And in the hidden part You will make me to know wisdom. Psalm 51:6 NKJV

What is at your core? What abides within, at the deepest part of who you are? If truth is there, if light is there, if peace is there, if hope is there, if joy is there, if love is there—Christ is there!

This is my wonderful story—

Christ to my heart has come;

Jesus the King of glory,

Finds in my heart a home.

Was there e'er story so moving,

Story of love and pain;

Was there e'er Bride-groom so loving,

Seeking our hearts to gain?

Now in His bosom confiding,

This my glad song shall be:

I am in Jesus abiding,

Jesus abides in me.

–A. B. Simpson

:angel:

The marvel outside your door...

Nov 1 2011

What do you do when doubt threatens to extinguish your faith? When you're tethered to God by gossamer thread, invisible strands of grace that you can neither see nor feel? When life's circumstance is earthquake beneath your feet?

job loss has forced you to distinguish want and need and now even your needs are threatened
a medical diagnosis, unexpected and cruel, affecting you or those you love best
a child who thinks the fight is against you, a not-yet prodigal you pray will come back
a church experience that has wounded you or church leaders who have disappointed
Or maybe your faith is shaken by the mundane of everyday loss and void, a lackluster marriage, a less-than-fulfilling job, unrealized expectations....

Maybe the very dailiness of life has made you weary, questioning God...or worse, questioning if there is a God.

There's a remedy you might be overlooking...


Go outside.
Go outside with wide eyes and open ears and tender heart, and see and hear and experience the presence of Almighty God.

What are you waiting for? Go!

* * * * *

I struggle with doubt; I hate it. It shames me. It makes me feel unworthy to write for this beautiful (in)courage community. So many brilliant, accomplished writers and readers who are doing Big Kingdom Things.

Comparison is gasoline fueling doubt's fire. Comparing yourself to anyone is dangerous; it can consume you.
And it's sin — you're in essence discounting the things of God.

When you're comparing yourself to others, you're disregarding who God says you are–beautiful, chosen, redeemed, loved, forgiven.

Mercy...I'm preaching to myself....

* * * * *

Could it be...could it p o s s i b l y be...that God allows me to write in this space because someone can relate?

* * * * *

I go outside.

I breathe in all of Creation in a single breath. I marvel, truly marvel at the millions of systems in place that sustain life on Planet Earth.

Beginning with the miracle of human life, my life–respiratory, vascular, muscular, neurological functions, everything that has to go right simply for me to live!

Seasons–what delight, this change of seasons! Each one, a marvel in itself, but now, we see Autumn and her glory! The chill of air, leaves' kaleidoscopic metamorphosis, trees ablaze then stripped bare.

An anthill with a thousand tiny soldiers marching to their orders...

The spill and crash of a waterfall, a furious beauty to hear and see, and if you're close enough, feel...

A seed, then a sprout, then a bud, now a flower! How we take for granted the phenomenon we call a flower! Look at them with new eyes.

A spider, master craftsman, spinning a home from her body, a trap for her prey, and a curiosity to observe.

Are you sensing the wonder?

When I go outside I step into a masterpiece.  Creation.   A gift from God to behold and enjoy, a conduit to see His glory ~
The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. ~ Psalm 19:1

When I take my focus off myself and seek the face of God, my doubt can't help but fade. The refrain from an old church hymn strums the chord of heart and memory–

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.

Doubt cannot co-exist in the presence of God.
And though God's presence never leaves me through the indwelling of His Spirit, sometimes I need a reminder.  I'm thankful, gratitude overflowing, for his gracious faithfulness...

And it's always waiting for me just outside my door.

* * * * *

~ Robin Dance, PENSIEVE

And if you're a parent of teens or tweens and have interest,  I joined Nester & company for 31 days, sharing my best thoughts on navigating these years as a parent.  It doesn't have to be a season of dread!
:angel:

Fiercely Dependent
What Women Fear: Chapter Eight
This Do in Remembrance of Me
Fiercely Dependent

Nov 2 2011

The sun beat down on the glossy water , gracefully reflecting sweet pigtails and a precious smile. Fondly I gazed at my sixth child, a special gift from God in her own right. We were walking together in the lazy river at the local pool.

Well, if you can call it "walking together."

Anyone out there have a terrific temper-tantrum-throwing two-year-old?
(I see that hand.)

Sweet T was having a lovely time exhibiting her endearing attitude of not wanting to hold my hand in the water. So even though the water was up to her neck, she bobbed her way along the side...
Fiercely independent.
Refusing my assistance.
With no desire for my help in the least.little.way.

Until...
We reached "the buckets."

A series of 4 rows and 4 columns of buckets that dump water right over your head at varying patterns. Too many for a toddler mind to comprehend.

The only hope is to escape at just the right window of perfectly-timed opportunity.


There was no bell sounding that the buckets were ahead. No warning that my pretty girl could readily identify other than seeing them.
Just the sudden urgency that something was bigger than she.
Water up to her neck was one thing, but water coming down from above at the same time? She would literally be in over her head.
This she sensed. This she saw. This she felt.
And then, Toddler T became completely dependent. A call for "Oh, no. The buckets!" paired with "Help me, Mommy!" made it evident that the earlier charade of complete and total independence was ...

history.
I chuckled to myself over her response.
But the whisper in my heart asked:

"What is so funny, Child of God? You act just like that temper-tantrum throwing toddler. You want me to stand by you, but you bob along your merry little way. I'm here for you, Daughter of Mine. But if you will just rely on me completely, depending on me fiercely, you will find that you are not alone. That independence and freedom you seek will be found in Me. Not without Me. Those buckets? They are for your good."

And I prayed.
"O Lord. Send more buckets my way. Fill them to the top, brimming over; so that when they pour out, I will be relying fully on you. If that is what it takes for complete surrender, I humble myself. Because the buckets are what make me...


Fiercely dependent."


Jeremiah 17:7

Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose trust is the LORD.

What Women Fear: Chapter Eight


Today we are discussing chapter eight with Jenny Acuff.

From Angie:
Jenny is a girl with a plan. She just jumps in and claps her hands, and life goes in a direction. She is a motivator, a promise-keeper, and a champion listener and adviser. I wondered if she ever really had moments where that "planning" nature was challenged because in a life with God, we never get to be the final say. We have to defer to him, and for people like me and Jenny, that can be a hard thing! What if His plan doesn't look like mine? As usual, she nails it with practical, down to earth advice that will bless you if you have ever been in a season where you questioned what the Lord was doing with your days.

We welcome your thoughts in the comments below!


This Do in Remembrance of Me

And he took bread, and gave thanks, and brake it, and gave unto them, saying,
This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me.
~Luke 22:19

Saturday evening services, annual meeting, and somehow I've forgotten it's communion until I walk into the sanctuary: men and boys on one side, women and girls on the other. This is my 7-year-old daughter's third time to take part; I tap her on the shoulder from behind and she beams, sitting with her friend.

I take a seat beside a church sister who's alone, too. She welcomes me and whispers that we've never taken communion together, smiling.

We sing a capella, sweet harmonies, old minor hymns. The children request a faster, lighter song, but it's not what I want to hear. The final song is called, and I nod and breathe deep.

Just one more time before the door
Of death would intervene
They gathered there to sup and share
Love's feast in joy serene.

For Christ aspired, strongly desired
To meet in fellowship here
With those who talked with Him and walked
Along each dusty year.

He gave them bread and wine so red
And told them when they meet
"Remember Me when this you see,"
Then knelt and washed their feet.

When next we meet in mem'ry sweet
Let love and fellowship flow
For this might be the last for me
Before I onward go.

lyrics from "The Last Supper," Old School Hymnal

Past, present, future, it's all here; I remember members of my family who have gone on and envision future generations sitting in these pews, tears in their eyes, singing the same songs.

Our pastor talks about the communion bread, symbolic of Christ's body, broken for us, and how the Jews thoroughly swept the leaven (yeast), which represented sin, from their homes before the Passover. The tray passes to me and I slowly grind the unleavened bread between my teeth.

The congregation sits still, silent, thoughtful, and I feel the Holy Spirit is among us here.

Then comes the wine, a symbol of Christ's blood, shed for the sins of his people. I drink and feel the warmth in my throat.

These first two parts of the service involve the vertical relationship between us and God. This last part is horizontal, fellowship among us here.

I take a towel and kneel in the floor, pulling a basin of water from beneath the pew in front of me, and then I lift my sister's feet, one at a time, washing them in the cool water as my rings softly scrape the metal pan. After each foot is wrapped in the towel and patted dry, we smile and embrace, and she kneels to wash mine.

We talk softly about my mother and how we both miss her, and of her father-in-law, an accomplished gardener who for years made the communion wine himself before he passed on. Tears gather and we smile, and I know similar hushed conversations are taking place throughout the room.

We rise and embrace our brothers and sisters: spirits refreshed, wounds healed as we do this in remembrance of Him.

It's good to be in the house of the Lord on this night.

Where do you find healing and refreshment for your spirit?

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   
An Opportunity

Nov 3 2011



Sigh... what a wonderful time of year we are in, don't you think? It is my favorite time of year. The busyness of summer has past. All the summer running around activities are finished. We still have time before we need to start thinking about our Christmas plans.

We have a wonderful opportunity before us if we only choose it.

We have the opportunity to take a deep breath.

To slow.

For quiet.



When we are in the midst of this noisy, busy world, He can get drowned out. We may not intend for this to happen, but it does. We think we can make the time... eventually... but sometimes we don't.

It has to be a conscious decision. We need to make a decision to step away from the busyness and choose to see something special. Even in everyday ordinary moments... choose to see something special. His wonders are all around us. He has placed them everywhere just for us.

To lift our spirit.

For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. Isaiah 41:13



To know His love.

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 8:39

To give us hope.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11



To help us feel at ease.

The LORD surrounds His people both now and forevermore. Psalm 125:2

To make us want to know Him more.

Come near to God and He will come near to you. James 4:8

It is all a gift.

I pause in awe, giving Him my full attention. I am completely present and choose to feel true gratitude.



With a heart full of thanksgiving I receive His wonders.

Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

Have you taken the opportunity to step away from the busyness and be completely present in His wonders? How did it lift your spirit?


By Jennifer, StudioJRU

:angel:

in)courage
   

Dress Up Clothes
Nov 6 2011

"Um. Yes. I'd like a sah-lahd, puh-leeeese!"

She sat up straight, hands folded at the child sized table in front of her with lace dripping from her hat and from the hem of her fancy play-dress. My five-year-old reenacted her best English accent as she asked for a SALAD from the other little girl who "served" her in the pretend café at the local children's museum.

I sat down next to her.

"A salad, huh? Sounds pretty grown up to me." I smiled at her.

She lowered her eyes and set her hands gently in her dress-up lap. She smiled back.

"You LOOK grown up sweetheart. Do you feel grown up?"

Yes. She nodded demurely. Her "salad" was brought to her: a jumble of plastic lettuce, nectarines and kidney beans was set in front of her.

A few minutes before she'd found the dress up stash at the "theater," and immediately after she wiggled into the lacy frock she ran to the café to sit down like a Lady-Who-Lunches.

As soon as she had dressed the part, she'd begun to request new and different things and act in new ways. A salad? Sitting quietly in one place? Hands folded sweetly in her lap? These are all foreign to my rough-and-tumble, chicken-nugget-consuming, dirt-under-her-bitten-fingernails Kindergartener.

She acted differently as soon as she donned the garb.

I wonder if we begin to "wear" different clothes, things like kindness, gentleness and love if we'd begin to act differently and desire different things. Perhaps even things that are at the heart, very good and healthy for us.

If we wore peace, we might desire the quiet and not distractions.

If we wore grace, we might want to forgive others for their grave missteps.

If we put on goodness might we desire the successes of others?

And if we wore love, do you think we might crave Jesus in a way that we never have?

Peace and grace and love are far more difficult than zipping up a play dress and sitting down to lunch, but maybe clothing ourselves in these grown-up, mature things can be a way to see our hearts and minds changed in the direction of Him.

What do you "wear?" What do you want to "wear?"

By Sarah Markley

Hospitality: What Matters

I love to open my home to others. I always have enjoyed the idea of hospitality, but I haven't always known how to practice it with grace.

I have gone through many awkward seasons of hospitality! I remember so well the years where entertaining was quite stressful – trying to prepare a delicious and memorable meal, create the perfect ambience, clean a spic and span party-ready house, organize all the closets (because you never know when someone might unexpectedly look in your closet), and of course, wanting to show off well-behaved children.

However, my expectations of juggling perfection set me up for failure. I was too self-conscious to invite people over when my house was looking 'lived in.' I made excuses for the effort it would require to extend an invitation to a neighbor. I apologized to guests for overcooked vegetables and crunchy rice or for an imperfectly decorated room. I was mortified as my child threw a tantrum at people's feet under the dinner table. I failed countless times to have the laundry done and my party dress on before the first guest rang the doorbell.



I wanted to be gracious and witty and welcoming and instead I felt awkward and self-conscious. I failed at my own expectations for gracious hospitality. Yet through every excuse, failure and mistake, God was gently whispering over my shoulder, quietly asking me to consider what hospitality means to Him:

Oh my dear one, it isn't about the food. It isn't about your perfectly clean home or your clever conversation skills. It isn't about your furniture placement or the clothes you wish you had to wear. There is nothing wrong with enjoying any of those things or wanting to create a wonderful experience for your guests, I understand that — but are these details the things that matter most to me?

Gulp.

He just wants me to be there, to open the door and greet people with open arms. He wants me to practice hospitality as an opportunity to share His love. Oh how humbling it has been to learn to see my actions and attitudes from God's perspective. Many days I stumble and fail, I miss opportunities and shine bright glaring lights on things that should not matter. I'm a slow learner. Thank goodness He is patient.

I'm growing in my understanding and practice of what hospitality means to God. I'm an imperfect hostess, but I am actually learning to enjoy my imperfection! Embracing imperfection means I open my home more often, I am free to simplify my style of hospitality rather than complicate it, and I can focus more on the hearts and souls that walk though my door.

Find this post and many others in  DaySpring's Fall Magalog!

***

I love the featured products this month! The pretty place mats, apron, table runner and tea towels are all on sale at amazing deals so be sure to check them out here!

The wooden caddy is a MUST HAVE around my house for entertaining! And the pedestal is one of my favorite items, it is versatile for all seasons of entertaining and you'll be amazed at how substantial it is in weight and height! You won't regret getting either of these items, and with a 50% off coupon code, they are a great deal too!  You can find the code here.

:angel:

A Sunday Scripture

Nov 6 2011


Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Colossians 3:12-14

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

What Women Fear: Chapter Ten
A Dime on the Road
What Are You?
How Are You, Really?
What Women Fear: Chapter Ten

Nov 7 2011

Well today is our last view discussion of What Women Fear. Today, we are ending things with Jenni Catron.
From Angie:
Again, we gave Jenni one of the "oh-my-word that's a tough one" chapters because we knew she would breathe her sweet wisdom into every thought. It's a beautiful thing-to fear the One who calls you to come to Him as Savior. We wanted to translate the love of a Father that doesn't want us to be afraid, but rather to reverence Him in a way that acknowledges His dominion over us and our need for Him. You will love what Jenni shares here...


We hope that this study has blessed you. Angie will wrap things up on Wednesday, so be sure to stop back!
Love,
Ang and Jess

A Dime on the Road

A dime on the road catches my eye,
partly submerged in dirt and grime.
So I pass it by.

My life, it seems, is submerged, awry;
And in this mire I don't have time
For a dime in the road that catches my eye.

I once had a dream, but by and by
It transformed, submerged—and lost its rhyme.
So I passed it by.

Perhaps when the grime is hardened and dry
When my dream is no longer covered in slime,
A dime on the road will catch my eye.

I'll stop and hold it and laugh and cry.
I'll think of the dream and I'll think of the dime
I once passed by.

In this sweet time, with the past gone by,
I'll say of the memory, as if describing a crime:
"A dime on the road caught my eye.
And I passed it by."

By Heather Gemmen Wilson
  :angel:


What Are You?

Nov 7 2011

"What are you?" These three little words jumped off of the page of my Bible from Zechariah Chapter 4 when I read them this week. I had uttered these exact three words out loud while on a walk through my neighborhood just a few days prior. God was clearly communicating with me and I decided to pause and take this inclination to let my fingers hit the keyboards again.

These three words jumped out of my mouth as a strange, flying, fuzzy black and red bug encircled me while I walked through my neighborhood one morning. I remember feeling a bit funny speaking the words, and to a bug. Nonetheless, I spoke them, "What are you?"...not "Who are you?" Or "What is that?" But simply, "What are you?"

Perhaps, you too have recently uttered something similar in your heart when faced with something new, peculiar and unfamiliar in your life?

I remember feeling a bit uncomfortable, not knowing what kind of bug it was and also as the buzzing sound increased so did the speed of the encircling bug. As I sit with Zechariah 4 open I am envisioning this bug circling the three words, and I had to circle the words "What are you?" in my Bible.

I cannot even begin to explain all that this means, but I can't deny the whisper of God to recognize that so much in my life right now seems to crescendo to a chorus of "What are you?" So many new things to embrace right now and so much unfamiliarity and it is all piling up like one huge mountain of laundry and I tempted to be paralyzed at the base of this mountain.

What's piling up in your life right now? Are there any mountains that seem to have just been placed in front of you causing you to experience a gamet of emotions? A girlfriend recently shared with me some particular mountains present in her world that I so identified with; they were something like...

Mount Doubt, Mount Fear, Mount Exhausted, Mount Discouragement, etc.

What are your current mountains?

In Zechariah Chapter 4:7 after the words, "What are you?" the text describes the mountains which will become like level ground. As I read, Zechariah Chapter 4, I heard God whisper and also later through the prayers of friends around our kitchen table, I heard the affirmations in my heart...'we will overcome.' For in all these things that are heavy on my heart, in all these present mountains...we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. (Romans 8:37).

As I picture the mountains in my life crumbling through the power of prayer and all the power of our mighty God who just makes things happen; I am still picturing this buzzing bug.

I wish you could see me smiling right now.

I am thanking God for making flat a mountain that has been before me all summer long. Here I am with Him...one word at a time writing again and it is reminding me that with Christ I can do this and I am pressing on with Christ! (Phil 4:13 and 3:14).
Join me girlfriends...let's take one step at a time together with Christ and go either over, through or up the mountains before us.

By JGirl

How Are You, Really?



She showed up at my front door. Unannounced with this cupcake in her hand:



"How are you really, Kristen?"

Now let me just say, normally I am ALL ABOUT THE CUPCAKE.

But something unusual happened:  she waited for me to tell her. Really tell her.

And while the cupcake caught my interest, her words grabbed my heart.

I couldn't remember the last time someone had added that word –the one that changed the trite question I hear every single day.

And so we stood at the door for a long time, me gripping sugar, tasting salt, pouring it out.

She waited for my words. The ones that I longed to say. And she just listened. Nodding her head, tilting it with empathy. And then she hugged me, told me she would pray.

I thanked her for the goodie, but mostly for asking and listening.

Sometimes we just need to be heard. I closed my front door, lighter with the burden I didn't know I was bottling up, keeping in. I usually just nod my head with, "Yes, I'm good. Everything's great." I didn't even know I was waiting on someone to really ask.

Today, you're either in one place or the other: You sit reading these words and the salt pools and you are silently begging yes, please ask me. The burden is so heavy. Or you need to find the neighbor, friend, lonely mom after school, and ask, How are you, really?

Because I will tell you, I walked away from that experience, wondering how many women in my life are waiting on me to:

Ask (the question). Wait (for an answer). Listen (to her cares). Pray (for her).

With our rushing and racing, we miss this opportunity and fill the space with empty words and continue in a secluded pain that isn't God's ideal for the Body of Christ.

We are the body. You. Me. And we need to carry one another's burdens.

So, tell me, how are you doing?

Really?

by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel:

Sovereign
Never Too Late For Joy
Hospitality & Some (in)Spired Thanksgiving Deals
Sovereign

Nov 9 2011



"Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you. Jeremiah 32:17

I was making cupcakes to take to the teachers and neighbors but realized I was out of vegetable oil after I start mixing. I told the kids we would have to ask our neighbor Mrs. Sarah for a half cup of vegetable oil. My kids jump at the chance to go visit the neighbors, so my son starting putting on his shoes right away. "I'll do it! I'll do it!", he said quickly before his sister could offer. "Slow down.", I told him. "Do you know what you are asking for?" He looked up from putting on his shoes and said, "Yes? A half a cup of fish to boil?"

"How great you are, Sovereign LORD! There is no one like you, and there is no God but you, as we have heard with our own ears. 2 Samuel 7:22

We get in a hurry sometimes. We rush into a task or something that seems like a good project without getting a clear picture of what the Lord needs or wants from us first. We forget that God is sovereign. His plan should come before ours. We don't stop, we don't ask, we don't pray for discernment and we don't listen for His whisper – - – we rush, we decide without His input, we try to rule our territory.

He was driven away from people and given the mind of an animal; he lived with the wild donkeys and ate grass like the ox; and his body was drenched with the dew of heaven, until he acknowledged that the Most High God is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth and sets over them anyone he wishes. Daniel 5:21

Hundreds of times in the Bible we run across the phrase, "Sovereign Lord" when God is addressed (especially in Ezekiel). Have you ever thought about what that really means? Sovereignty is defined as "the quality of having supreme, independent authority over a geographic area, such as a territory". I have read this word thousands of times when studying scripture, but it is tough to give a biblical definition of this word. In fact, sovereign is really more than a word – it's more like a concept when it relates to our Lord and Savior. We often hear, "God is sovereign." but what does that really mean? Some other definitions of sovereign include: supreme power, dominance, and absolute superlative quality. Some synonyms include: all-sufficient, irresistible, overwhelming, jurisdiction and mastery.

My favorite is irresistible. Isn't God irresistible?! I have found that His sovereignty, His mastery, His all-sufficient and His dominance is irresistible. Did I ever think I would say that? Honestly, no! For so many years I wanted to remain in control of my life. I wanted to be in absolute control of my actions and decisions, but He patiently waited on the sidelines while I fumbled, tumbled and messed up. That is what happens when we try to rule our territory instead of letting our sovereign God do it. Are you ready to accept his sovereignty?

When they heard this, they raised their voices together in prayer to God. "Sovereign Lord," they said, "you made the heavens and the earth and the sea, and everything in them. Acts 4:24

Allison T. Cain
Author & Speaker
www.godchickdevotions.com

Encouraging all women to see God in the ordinary

:angel:

Never Too Late For Joy



A walk through the cornfield on a sun-kissed harvest day.

I've never picked corn before.

At the supermarket, sure.

But, I had never walked through a cornfield. Until a few weeks ago.

Sunday church was over and while milling around, a friend mentioned a nearby farm was putting on a Harvest Festival.

I knew the place would get crowded later in the afternoon, so I was anxious to get there before noon with Hubby and my two boys.

Problem was, I wore my heels that morning.

I wasn't dressed for the occasion.

We had to drive home — in the opposite direction — so I could change into my mud-ready outdoor boots.

On our way over, I hoped there was corn left for us to pick.

We arrived at the farm and stood at the edge of the field. Littered with husks.

We were too late.

Someone Who Can Carry

Surveying what's left behind.


Do you ever feel like it's too late for you to find joy?

Maybe you're looking at your schedule or your dreams, and it seems littered with the husks of missed opportunities or crowded with the pressures of the daily grind.

From the way things appear, that pursuit, relationship, job, friendship, child, marriage – that situation – is simply heading in the opposite direction of where you'd like it to be.

You're caught off guard.  Not dressed for the occasion.

In the moment, it feels like nothing can take away your sense of loss or disappointment.

But, there is Someone who can carry us in that moment.

The Pieces
The God who holds onto us when we are weary knows where He's taking us.

"I will make up to you for the years that the swarming locust has eaten
You'll eat your fill of good food. You'll be full of praises to your God

You'll know without question that I'm in the thick of life with Israel [with you],

That I'm your God, yes, your God, the one and only real God.

Never again will my people be despised."
~ Joel 2:25-29

It's never too late for joy.

The Lord of the harvest – Jesus – came so that we can have life abundantly.

While we pick up the pieces of our lives,  Jesus picks up the pieces to our hearts.

He remembers how we are put together.

We can hang onto Jesus, who is strong enough to carry us through.

Beside You

The joy of corn unexpected.

As we walked through endless corridors of seemingly plucked-through stalks of corn, we decided to trek further — to the back of the field.

Far away from the crowds, where many turned around and left, we found rows and rows of corn.

Ready for us to harvest and bring home to enjoy that night.

As you stand there in the silence, surveying the rows of years gone past, notice Jesus standing there beside you.

He knows the way ahead.  He hasn't forgotten you.

There is more life ahead, Jesus whispers.

Just hold on tight to me.  I know the way to go and I'm taking you with me.

Unmistakeable Fragrance
It's risky to hope for joy, but God gently gathers us close, even when we're mixed with doubt and unspoken suspicions.

The place of need is the most beautiful place to be positioned.

That is where we experience the joy of being discovered by Jesus once again.

There is an unmistakeable fragrance that seeps into us, as we hide in the loving embrace of Jesus.

His grace, his tender understanding — mixed with our fears and tears — bring an intimate harvest of joy from within.

It's never too late for joy.

Never too late for you or for me.

~~~~~

"No more will anyone call you Rejected,
and your country will no more be called Ruined.


You'll be called Hephzibah (My Delight), and your land Beulah (Married),
Because God delights in you
and your land will be like a wedding celebration."
~ Isaiah 62:4

~~~~~





~~~~~


How is God calling you to find joy in the current season of your life?

Pull up a chair. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Click here to comment.

~~~~~




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

For more shots of faith, join Bonnie and the Faith Fresh Community at her blog.

Hospitality & Some (in)Spired Thanksgiving Deals



I love to open my home to others. I always have enjoyed the idea of hospitality, but I haven't always known how to practice it with grace.

I have gone through many awkward seasons of hospitality! I remember so well the years where entertaining was quite stressful – trying to prepare a delicious and memorable meal, create the perfect ambiance, clean a spic and span party-ready house, organize all the closets (because you never know when someone might unexpectedly look in your closet), and of course, wanting to show off well-behaved children.

However, my expectations of juggling perfection set me up for failure. I was too self-conscious to invite people over when my house was looking 'lived in.' I made excuses for the effort it would require to extend an invitation to a neighbor. I apologized to guests for overcooked vegetables and crunchy rice or for an imperfectly decorated room. I was mortified as my child threw a tantrum at people's feet under the dinner table. I failed countless times to have the laundry done and my party dress on before the first guest rang the doorbell.

I wanted to be gracious and witty and welcoming and instead I felt awkward and self-conscious. I failed at my own expectations for gracious hospitality. Yet through every excuse, failure and mistake, God was gently whispering over my shoulder, quietly asking me to consider what hospitality means to Him...

****

Continue reading over at (in)spired deals today, where Melissa Michaels from the Inspired Room introduces our line of November featured items {Think Thanksgiving!}

At (in)spired deals you'll find:
A special coupon code just for you
Lots of reviews and giveaways
Wonderful Thanksgiving decor
Go ahead and click on over here to continue reading!


:angel:

I think God is just wonderful. I had just written my answer to Wilma about being lonely in a crowd and this was my next e-mail message to read and post. Just what I needed and what I must keep in my heart and mind. I am Chosen, You are Chosen, now to act this out. and learn the important message. Thank you Father for always keeping me in Your sight. jh



(in)courage
   

Chosen

Nov 10 2011

I was in the audience at a concert one night amazed by the size of the arena, the volume of the cheers and applause, and the excitement of being in this moment. At one point all eyes went to a ten year old little girl who was acknowledged by the singer and given the happy birthday wish of a lifetime.

As I sat there and thought about how exciting it must have been for that little girl to get the attention thousands others craved from this star, my mind wandered away from the concert.

I imagined Jesus standing up on that stage. I imagined the whole crowd fading away as He points his finger straight up to me. Little ol' insignificant me, sitting in row 116, section R, seat 24. And then He speaks straight to me, "I love you Lysa and I have chosen you. Can we spend some time talking about this?"

I smiled. Then the reality of the concert brought real life crashing back. To the rock star the person sitting in row 116, section R, seat 24 is just another face in the crowd.

But to Jesus there is no such thing as just another face in the crowd. Somehow to God, we are all unique souls who He desires to call out, recognize and invite into a more intimate setting.

Unlike a human pop star, Jesus can give this kind of individual attention without excluding others. Every single person in the crowd could have their own individual encounter with Him. The only requirements are the desire to experience Him and the belief that it is possible. Sadly, very few people have either of these.

I know. I used to have the kind of relationship with God where I viewed Him as The One who makes sweeping glances over thousands of people per minute just to make sure no one was getting out of line. But the possibility to have God pause in the midst of everyday life to spend a little time with just me wasn't in my scope of possibilities at all.

It almost seems a bit presumptuous to think God would want to notice me, choose me, call on me, and converse with me- doesn't it?

Maybe the answer to this question is yes in human terms but not in Biblical terms.

In human terms the word "chosen," sends my mind reeling back to playground kickball days. These were not some of my finer childhood memories.

"Chosen" was not at all a word I would have used to describe myself.

So, when I first heard that word in relation to God's feelings toward me, I couldn't process it. In human terms it did seem quite presumptuous to think that God would pause to pay attention to me. My earthly Daddy never did that. My kickball team mates certainly didn't do that. It seemed quite upside down to think that a girl the world ignored and passed over would actually be handpicked, on purpose, by God.

The Bible is full of reassurances that this is exactly the way God wants us to process life.

Colossians 3: 12 says, "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience."

Psalm 25:12 says, "Who, then, is the man that fears the LORD ? He will instruct him in the way chosen for him."

And John 15:19 says, "If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world."

I am a chosen person, with a chosen way, who has been handpicked by God on purpose to live a chosen life set apart in this world. But please don't mistake this as an exclusive country club type membership. No, this is the truth that every person can stand on no matter their race, background, or their past. If you proclaim Jesus Christ, son of God, as your Lord and Savior, this is your chosen reality.

The problem is we have been trained to process life based on the way we feel. We think we must feel love for love to exist. We think we must feel wanted for it to be true that we are chosen. We think we must feel God's presence for Him to really be close. But God never meant for us to feel our way to Him.

God wants us to stand on the absolute truth that He is with us no matter how our feelings may try and betray that reality. When I process life through my feelings I am left deceived and disillusioned. When I process life through God's truth I am divinely comforted by His love and made confident in His calling on my life.

So, back to that concert when Jesus gave me the visual of Him calling out to me- choosing me, I learned something profound that night.

God made each of us with a vulnerable place inside our souls to be wanted, loved, and chosen above all others. I think that's what ultimately drives people on both sides of an arena filled stage. The one on the stage is looking to have this vulnerable placed filled by the screaming crowd. The screaming crowd somehow thinks this famous person has it all figured out so if they can just get close maybe some of that fulfillment will rub off on them.

All the while Jesus stands off to the side and wonders if anyone realizes He's the One our souls long for... not the fame... not the attention of the famous... and not the millions of other things we'll spend our lives thinking we must have.

The answer to our deepest desires is not the seemingly perfect life... not the most romantic husband...not the smartest and most well behaved kids... not the bigger house... not the better job... not the awards and recognition of man and not in trying to feel our way to God.

It's making the choice to recognize that God is close. Whether we're at a concert, on a playground in the middle of a sorry kickball game, or sitting in a chair in our den- God is there. Loving. Assuring. Teaching. Calling. Choosing to spend time with us.

Becoming more than a good Bible Study Girl means never settling for needing to feel our way to God or to simply limit our experience of Him to those few minutes we call our quiet time.

It's being able to sit in the noise of the arena of life with every worldly distraction imaginable bombarding you and suddenly thinking of Him- talking with Him- smiling with Him- and realizing every longing I've ever had in life to be more than just the girl in row 116, section R, seat 24 is already filled. By Him. The One who sees me as chosen.

I am giving away a copy of my book 'Becoming More Than a Good Bible Study Girl" to 3 randomly chosen commenters today.

By Lysa TerKeurst

:angel:

The Weeping Of The Evergreen
Treasured Words Told From A Soldier's Lips
We're Finished!
The Weeping Of The Evergreen

Nov 11 2011


We cut it down, and placed it on the brush pile, a funeral bier, an altar that would soon reduce the offering to ash and smoke. Now, it was just a broken branch of deadened dry needles, but, once, not long ago, it had bestowed beauty, from fragrant pine needles, dripping a cedar sap of savory scent. Back then we didn't know that it was destined for offering, for aromatic ascension.

One evening, after the harrowing thrill of a pummeling hailstorm passed, this cedar tree gave me a gift. Admiring the icy diamonds scattered in the yard I caught a whiff of Christmas. Fragrance transports you through the years like a daydream from the dusty corners of delightful memory, and I visited a long-forgotten moment of holiday bliss, lying under another cedar tree, breathing the aroma of Christmas.

I wondered, "Why would it smell like Christmas after a hailstorm?"

My interest piqued, I kneeled to examine the hail stones, to breathe a melting nothing of a disappearing moment. As the invisible ice dripped from my fingertips, I followed the fragrance to the cedar tree, the weeping cedar, beaten and bruised by the hailstones, crying the aroma of brokenness.

O, beautiful fragrance of fallibility, aroma of vulnerability as I discovered the secret of the scent. Like wisdom permeates the brain at an inspired moment, understanding wafted into my spirit like the perfume of the pine. The mystery of the beauty of the bruises is in the fragrance of the ascending offering.

"But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." Isaiah 53:5

This tree had endured a prior scourging by ice in the infamous ice storm of another winter, when  horror cried out in the echo of cracking Ozark forests, the beginning of slow death for this cedar tree. Like the taste of the forbidden fruit, the slow sensation of the curse of death began when the mast of the tree was cracked by the burden of that first icy beating. The terminal TIMBERRRR slowly began, but before the final felling, the evergreen gave me the gift of its tears, weeping a fragrant final offering of the beauty of brokenness, ascending as a sweet fragrance through the forest.

As the pounding of the hailstones bruised the evergreen, releasing the fragrance, so the buffeting of life's circumstances releases the fragrance of perseverance and victory in our lives, as we allow praise to ascend as our fragrant offering of faith.

"We are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing." II Cor 2:15

Have you experienced the release of a fragrant aroma in the midst of the pummeling of life's buffeting bruises? Have you noticed that praise is the perfume the transforms the bruises into beauty, the ashes into aroma as you press past the pain and discomfort of your present distress to release all the hurts? Break open the alabaster aroma of pain, and release it, as a sweet and fragrant offering on the altar of trust and forgiveness, and it will waft heavenward, a release of pain in exchange for joy, carried on the winds of faith, as a holy incense, a worshipful sacrifice pleasing unto the Lord.

By Shari Popejoy, Won Without Words


:angel:

Treasured Words Told From A Soldier's Lips



He's waiting for me as I park my car. I can see him through the window and a smile fills his face. I hurry into the church building and open my arms to offer a hug. My schedule says I'm visiting to speak to a group of writers, but deep inside I know that a large part of the reason I've traveled to Shippensburg, Pennsylvania to see him.

John is 86-years-old, is nearly deaf in one ear and is sometimes more blunt with his comments than I expect. Last time I saw him we were in Louisville, Kentucky. I'd driven for hours to see him—see them—that day too. John and the dozens of other veterans I now consider good friends.

His arms open and he accepts my hug. My chin quivers and I try to push thoughts out of my mind of the other veterans I've known, I've cared for, but are now gone.

John introduces me to a reporter from the local paper who's come to take our picture. The reporter believes she's come to snap a photo of a writer and one of the veterans she's interviewed. A knowing look passes from John's eyes to mine. I've not only listened to his stories, I know the secrets of his war experiences. I've read his memoirs. I've read the letters he wrote to his mother and father during the war. "Dear dad," he'd write. But his letters to his mother seemed more personal. "Mother dear," he'd write to her.|

As I read those letters I couldn't help but think of my boys, now 22 and 17-years-old.Tears journeyed down my cheek as I read about John sleeping on frozen ground, about battles, about buddies lost, picturing Cory and Nathan in that situation. Tears now come again as I step back from John's embrace and remember how it all started.

I never planned on interviewing veterans. I had wanted to write romance novels until I came across a story that wouldn't leave my thoughts. I was traveling in Europe when I heard about the liberation of Mauthausen concentration camp. Young America GIs, 18 and 19-years-old, came upon the gates of the camp. From the first moment I heard that story I wondered about the emotions of those young men. Horror at what they saw. Fear that there were too many who needed help. Joy that after all the fighting they had the honor of opening liberation's gates.

My questions got the best of me, and I got in touch with some of the men. They invited me to their reunion and that's where I met Arthur, Charlie, Thomas, Tarmo, LeRoy, Russ, and yes ... John.

I am different because of the veterans I've interviewed. A part of their history abides in me in the form of their treasured words. It saddens me to think that I could have not asked. I could have continued with my busy life without taking time to hear their stories.

The pain of this strikes deep because that's what happened with my own grandfather. Life was busy. He was so quiet, so gentle I never really thought much about him being a World War II veteran. He passed away before I had time to talk to him about the war. I still wonder about the stories I'll never know. Maybe that's why listening is so important to me now. If I have the chance, I want to hear. I want to care. I want to share.

That's why it was so special to see John again—for both of us to be reminded of our connection built over shared letters and unbelievable tales. My time with John ended with me visiting with some of his family and friends, and then there was a final hug before I drove away. I smiled as I looked at his form in my review mirror, and I offered a whispered prayer to God. "Thank you. Thank you for this honor."

God knew John had stories he needed to tell. I'm so thankful I was the one chosen to receive those words as a gift. I'm thankful I was able to offer John a gift in return. It was one I didn't need to wrap. It was one that didn't impact my checkbook. Sometimes the best gift we can give—I've learned—is a listening ear.

By Tricia Goyer
  :angel:

We're Finished!



I just wanted to hop on and tell you all how blessed you have made me feel to have a community of women talking about such a difficult topic. Fear (as you know by now!) has run quite a race in my life, and as I learn more and more about the Lord, I can find peace that I never used to be able to access. That's not to say that I never find myself afraid, but it is getting better :)

One of the most important things you can do if you struggle with fear is to have a network of friends who you really know and trust. The kind that you could call at 3:00 a.m. if you needed to and they would be up to help in any way they could.  We long for friendships like these, and we certainly have been praying that you have made a few "kindred spirit" friends during our journey through this book.

Thank you for your contribution-your thoughts were more appreciated than you will ever know, and the fact that many of you really opened up to dark places you are struggling with-we really appreciate it. And it means the world that you trust us with your hearts. It's a privilege to be in community with all of you ladies.

I pray you received something valuable from my book, and also that you will continue to hang around. As we move into our Fall break, we have TONS of fun stuff planned and would love to see you there. Keep checking back for more info, and until next time, blessings to you and your families!

xoxo

Ang (and Jess)

:angel:

What's That Smell?

Nov 12 2011



My daughter's room smells like bacon. The bathroom smells like whatever my cat just did in its litter box in the next room. And the living room? Well, thankfully it just smells like the air freshener plugged into the kitchen wall.

For some reason I have not figured out in the eight years since we moved into our small ranch, smells don't stay where they're supposed to in this house. I've just learned to expect the lingering aroma of dinner in my daughter's bedroom, and suspicious smells in the bathroom are just as likely to have started in the office as anywhere.

The funny thing about this situation is that not only do smells – good and bad, for the record – migrate through walls or down the hall, but they also completely disappear from their rooms of origin. So while you might think my kitchen smells just as strongly of bacon as my daughter's bedroom, you would be wrong. The kitchen smells like dishwasher detergent.

As I walked down the hall and noticed my house's quirk [again] a few weeks ago, I started thinking. My house is a lot like my life.

I snap at my husband because I'm stressed out about a freelance project.
I cry as I watch a greeting card commercial because I had a fight with my husband.
I skip my workout because I stayed up late reading a novel . . . and snacking.
I ignore my daughter's requests to play dolls because I'm tired . . . and want to check Facebook.

None of those things are directly related, and yet, they might seem connected on the surface. If you asked me, in the moment, I might say that I snapped at my husband because he forgot to tell me he's leaving early for work. I might say that the commercial is extremely well-crafted and sentimental or that my workout is just too hard. I might even tell you that I simply don't like to play dolls and my daughter needs to learn to play on her own anyway.

But in reality, the bad smells in my life – short temper, moodiness, laziness, misplaced priorities – are coming from somewhere else. They might show up in one relationship but be a result of a problem in another relationship. They might make one situation "smell," but actually come from a completely different and separate situation altogether.

Confusion – or denial – over the cause of an emotional outburst isn't the only time I see this "mystery smell" phenomenon in my life. It also happens with behaviors that I'm not proud of, with sin.

Sin creeps into our lives so quietly, so quickly – and then has the audacity to disguise itself as something else.

I exchange my daily Bible reading for a few minutes flipping through a magazine or scrolling through Twitter, and I tell myself it's because I need some time to unwind. (Not really. I know from [repeated] history that I stop craving time in the Word when I stop seeking God with all my heart.)
I let days and then weeks go by without stepping on my treadmill, and I tell myself it's probably better to just accept my body how it is anyway. (Not true! While I know that God loves me no matter what size my jeans are, I also know that treating my body well is a form of worship and stewardship that I'm seriously missing out on when I don't exercise.)
I poke fun at my husband as he tells a story at our small group, pointing out every detail he got wrong, and I tell myself that I'm just making sure everyone knows the truth. (Not exactly. I've forgotten [again] that God calls us to respect our husbands, and in my marriage, that includes staying quiet when he tells the story his way – and even laughing at his jokes [again].)

Do you have any bad smells in your life today? Is sin disguising itself or hiding under an explanation like the bacon smell hides in my house?
:angel:

     

(in)courage
   

How Can We Pray For You?

Nov 13 2011



Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

~ Philippians 4:6-7.

How can we pray for you today? Won't you share in the comments? And then take a moment to please pray for the sister who commented before you – we're in this together, all the way.

:angel:

Where Do You Come From?

Nov 14 2011



I come from the northern suburbs of Chicago.

I come from powder puff wheels on blacktop driveways.

I come from apple-cinnamon pancakes made with love by my grandpa.

I come from banana seats on pink Schwinn bikes.

I come from funnel cakes at the mall.

I come from kick ball and 4-square on the playground.

I come from penny drops on the monkey bars.

I come from pierogies and the smell of apple cider vinegar for dipping.

I come from Caspar the Friendly Ghost, The Flintstones, and Popeye the Sailor.

I come from two working parents and after school at the neighbors house.

I come from cheerleading at the high school basketball games.

I come from Heads Up 7-Up in Ms. Ryan's second grade class.

I come from snowsuits, mittens, hats, gloves, snow banks and snowball fights.

I come from a father who loves music.

But more importantly...

I come from neighbors who cared enough to tell my parents about Jesus.

I come from vacation Bible school every summer from age five.

I come from children's choir at church.

I come from a mom and dad who made sure that we were in the pews every Sunday.

I come from youth pastors who gave all of their time to awkward kids, trying to find their way.

I come from inner city missions trips where I learned to see God in unlikely places.

I come from the communion table.

I come from summer church camps and winter retreats.

I come from singing His praise at the top of my lungs.

I come from poor decisions that I never would make again.

I come from His grace and mercies that are new every morning, praise Him.

I come from His word.

I come from a Heavenly Father who knows what my future holds.

I come from desiring to know Him better and to walk more closely.

This is where I come from. It made me who I am today. It is molding and shaping every choice that I make now, and in the days to come. Thank God He is there through it all.

Where do you come from?

By Jenny Yarbrough- The Southern Institute

It's Not for You, Sweet Thing


I cannot tell a lie: I want a smartphone. I want the handy internet access, the ability to take cute, easy pics and play with endless apps. And, hello? Ev-er-y-one has it. Or almost everyone.

But in this season, the Lord puts the kabosh on this for me.

The reason? Because I am not self controlled enough to own one. My laptop proves distracting enough, and tearing myself away from it takes willpower. To shrink that portable computer into something I can fit in my pocket or purse is mighty dangerous. For me, for now.

Until I learn to exercise more willpower with the laptop, the Lord says no to a smartphone. So in the meantime, my un-smartphone and I party like it's 2007.

Now, you may be perfectly sensible with your smartphone, so it holds a proper place in your life. But maybe the Lord has put the kabosh on something different for you, something you want. Something that is a good thing, just not a good-for-you-right-now thing. And I'm not talking about bigger, out-of-our control desires, but rather smaller ones. Maybe you fancy a new outfit for a special event. Maybe you want to attend that conference "everyone" will be attending. But for reasons you may or may not know, God puts up a holy barrier and whispers to your heart, "It's not for you, sweet thing. Not now."

Our lives hold no details too small for God's care and attention. If the Lord cares enough to count the hairs on our heads, He cares enough to steer our smaller, day-to-day choices. I love the way Sarah Young describes what this Jesus led guidance looks like:

"Walk with Me along paths of trust. The most direct route between point A and point B on your life journey is the path of unwavering trust in Me." Jesus Calling, p. 264

When I say yes to His no, I take steps forward in a direct route towards His trust. My steps here are small, but they're small steps in the right direction. When in obedience I show a heart's willingness to be faithful with the small, I show I can be faithful with the  big.

Maybe I'll have a smart phone next year. Maybe you'll attend that conference. Maybe not. Regardless of tomorrow, let's walk forward together today in obedience, trusting and believing His no to a good thing leaves space for a yes to a better thing.

Has the Lord whispered, "It's not for you, sweet thing. Not now." to your heart over the small lately? What better thing has come from saying yes to His no?

By Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies

:angel:

On Community, Suffering, and Hope

Nov 15 2011

When we left "the ministry" after our first year of marriage, when Seth started law school and I the MFA in Poetry, we were so church sick, bone-weary soul sick, and we've found that this sickness is not unique to us, especially in our online community. More times than not, I'm coming across deep wounds, people left in a numb wake or angry at what should have been but wasn't.

We had started to say to ourselves that there are only so many times you can watch the innocent fall or we can only swallow so many fakes. We judged the judgers. We made fun of the so-called righteous, said, "we'll show them," our secret sin of pride growing thick with jadedness and sarcasm, breeding other secrets.

Underneath was an ache, the desire to belong and be loved, and through a long painful process that continues today, God is showing me and Seth the beautiful church, the mourners, the hungry, the weepers, the lonely.

He surrounded us with what some call a small group (life group or cell group), our Community Group and other friends who live as part of our family. These are people who have experienced such pain and such redemption, coming to us not as the answer to our pain but rather as people who join us in our pain. They join us there, and we sing from low position, how in this world we will have promised trouble, promised peace.

They show me the Not Yet, But Already (the Both/And) of God, how He is still so so good. We scrub house together, even though everything just gets dirty again. God is still so good, though what I used to call the church proved false.

Salvation belongs to the LORD and to no other, they sing it to me. He's coming for us, they sing it to me. This is His mercy, that all else fails.

Our family, the church, has entered life with us and given us such fresh perspective though they've seen with their very eyes last breaths, warring children, slavery, and starvation. Confession is the norm here, doubt, unbelief, struggle.

And as a woman working out my salvation as best I can, I've seen gorgeous God unfold in their healed faith, their honesty and humility – oh the beautiful church, there. I've had my pride revealed so gently, the hurt break open inside me, so that I long for my heavenly home with such zeal that this world is losing it's delicious charm.

It is intoxicating to witness Hope, one tiny fleck of scale falling from my eyes at a time.

How we worship, how we don't ignore the suffering, acknowledge the pain involved in this life and acknowledge the true Christ-Peace in the midst of it. We see each other, and we know it still hurts. We sit together in it – Pain and Peace, all at once. Peace is not pain-free, but the pain is transformed.

Those of us who endure the most pain here – not trying to find a way to keep from it, ignore it, or get around it – those of us who enter and endure it within ourselves and for others, we are the ones in the low trenches. Those of us in last place here, we will one day be first. We see pain in this world now, but I believe a time is coming that we'll be first to experience what it's like to be completely whole, when the "not yet" finally Is.

And just knowing that one thing helps us to say that It Is Well With Our Souls.

Praise God for the beautiful church, her (his) beautiful feet! It's not just what happens on Sunday. This is our small group (it's to hear, not to watch) on one Wednesday night. We do this every week, and I look forward to it all week long, count the days till I get there.

Tell us your story of the beautiful church. So many of us need to hear it.

By: Amber Haines
:angel:

Just As You Are

Nov 16 2011

Hello Friend!

The other day my husband and I wandered out to a nearby fruit and vegetable stand. Rows of pumpkins, gourds and other fall goodies lined the front. Families gathered around to touch, thump and observe each one.

Eventually a child would declare, "I want this one!" When a parent would squint their eyes and inquire, "Why that one?" the child would enthusiastically point and declare something like, "I like this bump! It looks like a camel!"

The parents would shrug their shoulders and then that gangly, unsightly gourd would be scooped up and carried home with love.

Chosen for its imperfections.

I can't help thinking it's much the same with us. Jesus looks at us and says, "I want that one!" Perhaps the angels tilt their heads in a bit of confusion and ask, "Why that one, Lord?" And He says, "Because what she sees as a weakness is actually a way I can show my strength in unexpected ways through her."

What would you change about yourself if you could?

What if that's the very thing God wants to use?

I run my fingers over the surface of a speckled pumpkin. It seems hard ground or challenging weather have etched rough lines on one side. I pick it up and feel its weight in my hands. It's still solid on the inside.

I catch a child watching me out of the corner of her eye, waiting to see if I'll put back that pumpkin–the one she clearly wants.

I lean in close to that rough surface, smile and whisper softly as I set it down, "Someone has good plans for you."

xoxo

– Holley

p.s. Fall is my favorite time of year! What's your favorite fall tradition? I love baking pumpkin everything–muffins, crisp, bread, etc. :)

:angel:

Motherhood: An Unexpected Change

Mothering has changed me in too many ways to count.

There are the obvious things you'd expect to hear; it shifted my priorities, made me a expert matcher-of-sippy-cups-to-lids, and blessed me with some understanding of my own parents' love and sacrifice.

But at the end of that warm and fuzzy list, another change lurks in the shadows.

Becoming a mother has made me more sensitive to pain. Fear. Loss. It's almost as if I've developed a sixth sense that's every bit as powerful as sight. The sense of empathy for mothers and children who are hurting.

This instinctive empathy is a gift. A blessing. I know what to say when before the words wouldn't come. I can soothe, heal, and comfort with my hands. I have the patience to sit with a woman in grief or a child who's stuck on the monkey bars.

In another way, though, empathy can turn into pain by proxy. Now that I have children of my own I can't hear of a tragedy and not let myself go there, to that place of imagining another mother's pain.

The most dramatic example of this occurred in the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti in January 2010. My daughter was then 8 months old and I was just finding my footing as a mother of three. I cried with the women who searched the rubble for children whose hands they'd held as the ground shook. I clicked through images on my computer screen and the pain washed over me in waves.

I sat in my comfortable chair nursing my daughter as her brothers played LEGOs at my feet. I prayed for God to arrive in that place of destruction and devastation.

But in that moment I came to understand that He was already there. He'd been there all along.

He was there when the earth shook, too, when the walls buckled, when the sky grew dark with dust.

God knows this life is hard. He knows our suffering, our struggles, our fears. But He is with us in the midst of our pain.

My prayer now is not for God to arrive in places of pain, but for the hurting to open their palms and receive Him.

By Mary Lauren of My 3 Little Birds

:angel:

How to Give Thanks Like an Artist

Nov 17 2011

We gather at the writing table, huddled close in a room filled with women. The murmur is low, occasional laughter cutting through the hum. We look around at one another, maybe ten of us there with our laptops. One mama has her baby swaddled tightly to her chest. Another pushes her glasses up further on her face. I wonder if she knows she just did that or if doing it is so much a part of her that it feels like a breath.

They are nervous, I can tell. The conference is in full swing by now and this is the last of three writing sessions I've helped to lead. I shake my head and wonder how I got here, sitting at the front table, offering my words to encourage others, flailing through the day like a crazy person. I ask who wants to go first and a brave one passes her laptop to her neighbor. We don't ask them to read their own work aloud, but to have another do it — so they can hear their own words read back to them through the voice of someone else.

She reads, and we are home. It is the fastest 30 minutes of the whole weekend. We fly through words like girls on bikes and in the listening, we learn more of ourselves. I can't believe I was nervous about this – these women are amazing. They are funny, gritty, singing poets. They learn life by writing it down. I get them.

When you find your people, your soul breathes deep. You can do it alone, but it isn't as much fun. Sometimes we are afraid of mingling with others who do the same kind of art we do because what if they do theirs better? But these women here, they are a gift, each one. We let one another in, so instead of a free fall it feels more like a jump.

When we write, we remember. When we read our own words, we understand. But when someone else reads words we wrote, we come alive. In this time of year for thanks and for giving, be thankful for your art. Be graceful in the giving of it.

How are you having someone else read your own words back to you in this season of your life? You don't have to be a writer – you may be passionate about cooking or home design or accounting or music or architecture. Have you made your art available to others in such a way as to allow yourself to come alive?

Emily Freeman makes art on her blog, Chatting at the Sky, and in her book, Grace for the Good Girl.

Thank you, Darcy, for the top image of our writing group.
:angel:

Choosing Faith, Holding On To Hope

Nov 18 2011

"The Christian's hope is sound because it is founded upon the character of God and the redeeming work of His Son Jesus Christ. For this reason Peter could call it "a living hope" (1 Peter 1:3). It is living because it rests on reality and not on fancy. It is not wishful dreaming but vital expectation with the whole might of the Most High behind it." (A.W. Tozer The Size of the Soul, Chapter 20 )

I can tell by the way he's hoping back and forth, from one foot to the other, he's nervous. His skinny arms are tight at his sides, like a little soldier but he's out of formation with that nervous jig he's dancing. I notice how he didn't volunteer this time to go first. I remember that fear.

He steps up onto the diving platform and I can see his growing muscles tense, the water shimmering on his perfect, nutty skin- he hesitates for a minute, then he just leaps.

We rally and clap for him as he emerges and I can see his grin from across the pool. His chest swelling a little with pride, with the triumph of having overcome. The satisfaction of having been willing, radiates in his confident steps as he walks the pool deck.

He did it.

Watching him step up to repeat the move, my lungs empty in a heavy sigh, I'm remembering all of the times when I was his age, and beyond, all of the moments of stepping up, taking that leap. And I wonder if I will ever stop being afraid. Faith cancels out fear. I learned this recently, and God repeats the lesson it seems almost daily for me lately. Constant opportunities present to choose fear, or faith, opportunities to hold on to hope. I'd like to say the choice is simple. Sometimes it is.

I'm still neck deep in learning how not to fear. In fearing, I lose hope. I'm still ripping the seams of this suffocating pride of mine that chokes out flickers of faith. I'm still reminding myself daily, that hope overcame death, so that I could live constantly under it's wings. I know I cannot do any of it myself and yet this human heart tries.

I'm learning to hope again. Learning to trust and believe that with hope in the cross, in the saving grace of Christ, I can overcome, not by my own strength, but by his.

I am learning, like my boy, to step up, to believe that when I leap, God will catch me. I am learning to hold fast to that hope because it does not disappoint.

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. Romans 8:24-25

What does hope look like to you? Do you ever lose hope? How do you find it again?

By: Kris Camealy ~ Always Alleluia

Thanksgiving Table :: It Doesn't Have to be Elaborate to be Beautiful

:angel:



Prettifying the Thanksgiving table doesn't have to be a super involved process. Really, I think people would rather have a good pie than a pretty table.  But, I still like to have a pretty table and I bet you do too.  Here are a few stress free last minute ideas:



Shop the house.

Group like with like and set out what you have:

leftover pumpkins and gourds
every candlestick and candle in the house
every rust color {insert your own color} thing you can find–books, ribbon, trays
wooden stool, wood bread board, cutting boards wooden anything you can group together
texture: baskets, doilies, leftover pieces of burlap
all white stuff
you could even decorate with book pages–let your kids rip apart some books
dig out some old black and white photos of the family from the past and use string and close pins and hang them from the chandelier


Shop the yard.

sticks
twigs
rocks
I've been known to decorate with weeds
magnolia leaves
BHG

Shop the grocery. You are going anyway, pick up a few things that will help your table

apples
nuts
a bouquet of flowers
cranberries
grab some extra green beans, asparagus and an artichoke and fancy up your candles like that photo up there
let the food take center stage and put cakes on pedestals and make paper turkey frills for your turkey legs all fancy like, and embellish with leaves and fruit and such
Martha, of course

You don't have to use real plates and napkin rings to have a pretty Thanksgiving.  We all know that the hostess sets the tone for the meal so like it or not, the most noticeable decoration–is our attitude.   Can I get an amen?

A few other ideas in case you aren't sure your attitude will do the trick::

How to Set Up A Buffet {it's a giveaway post from last year, ignore the giveaway part, sorry}

Pinterest Thanksgiving Table Inspiration

20 Ways to Decorate With Book Pages


I kind of prefer setting up a Thanksgiving buffet on the main table and letting everyone sit around the house–what does your family do?  Are you buffeters at Thanksgiving or do you all sit around the table?

:angel:

     

(in)courage
   
Nov 19 2011

Are you as tired as I am?

I'm so tired that I just pulled into my garage, quickly shut the door, and just sat in my dark car, in silence, with my head laying on the steering wheel. {I'm sure you can't relate.}

I wonder what the next few months will be like with the holidays upon us. I have a long list of want-to's. But with Tired as my needy, new best friend, I feel exhausted before I even begin.

{All of a sudden, I have an even bigger respect for my mom and for you. Yes, you. The ones that have seven children and energy to spare. The ones that run a business and a beautiful home. The ones that stay up late into the night to chase your art and still smile at the bible study the next morning.}

I don't feel creative. I only feel pressure. Which makes me more tired.

I get enough sleep. {Don't be jealous.} I try to take care of myself and eat healthy. Beyond physical, I wonder why I'm so tired? {I'm really not asking for health advice.}

Is it because I'm over committed? Not being able to say 'No.' wears me out.

Do I not know how to lean into the rest that He promises and provides? Rather, I call it stress and act like it's normal, some kind of trophy to be proud of.

Is my soul weary from battle, the very ones that no one else can see? Needing rest, I fight it like a young child before a much needed nap. I don't share the worries of my heart with those that really care about me.

Maybe I'm legitimately tired and need to give myself a break. I give everyone else one.

Maybe I need to let someone down and not show up. Maybe I need to say no to another serving opportunity. Maybe I need to not respond to emails so rapidly. Maybe I need to let things fall where they may for awhile. Maybe I need to take a nap in the middle of the day. Maybe I need to not apologize for not having it all together and tell someone else the truth. . . I'm tired.

But when I'm weary and worn out, for reasons that I can't control or those that I can, I go to my Life Source. For "the LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom." {Isaiah 40:28}

I remember that He had to command us to rest. {There must have been a reason for that. I don't feel so alone.}

And when He gives His children their 'promise land' that He destined us to possess {Yes, He has one for you.}, He reminds us that "The LORD your God is giving you rest and has granted you this land." {Joshua 1:3} He does the work.

I need to rest and possess the 'land,' step by step, that He is blessing me with. Each of our promise lands look different, but each usually takes a journey that can be tiring. God knows this and asks me to rest, rest in Him.

That seems a daunting task. But God has big hands that I can relax in and recover my strength.

But God says, "Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." {Isaiah 41:10}

by Stephanie Bryant, co-founder of (in)courage and now Creative Mastermind at S. Bryant Social Marketing.

:angel:

 Sunday Scripture

20 Nov 2011 10:20



"A new command I give you: Love one another.

As I have loved you, so you must love one another.

By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

~John 13:34-35

:angel:

When A Chair Becomes A Throne

Nov 21 2011

One sharp act of separation.

I can completely identify with this moment. I have lived it, and I have the scars to prove it.

A long time ago there was someone who thought he was going to have to live through "one sharp act of separation". That man was named Abraham and he had a son, late in life, named Isaac. Abraham loved his son so intensely that his son actually became an idol to him. Finally, God told Abraham to sacrifice his son. God told Abraham to take his son up on a mountain and slay him as an offering to the Most Holy.

There is no doubt in my mind that Abraham would have rather taken his own life than the life of his son. But, he trusted God and was ready to make the sacrifice that God wanted. And, then God spoke and the plan was revised.

Pretty extreme, huh?

And, I wonder,

"Do I do what Abraham did– with my children? Do they slowly creep into the place where I am allowing them to reign on the throne of my heart?" Unintentionally, I can allow myself to be drawn into a place where I am so fascinated by what I can see that I don't seek that which I cannot see.

My 19 month-old daughter, Molly, died over 16 years ago, and I long to see her again. But, the truth is simple–she cannot be the reason that I want to go to Heaven. She is not good enough for that. She is not pure enough for that.

There was a verse that struck me, as though it were new, about a month ago. I was taken with it, so I wrote it down and hung it on my bathroom mirror.

"We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.

For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body."  2 Corinthians 4:10-11

While I was staring at the verse one morning, a thought occurred to me:

"I cannot carry around the death of my daughter. I have to carry the death of Jesus. The death of my daughter does not profit anyone. The death of Jesus has the power to save everyone."

I would never do it to harm anyone, and I would only be motivated out of a love for her– yet, it would grieve the heart of God if I allowed her life, her face, her story to reign in the place reserved for the Almighty. It would distance me from God if I allowed her chair to become a throne.

As the days of my life unfold, I don't want my story to merely reflect a woman who lost a child and endured, I want to have a faith that is constantly evolving and I want the Creator to be able to use me in the life I am living, not merely in the past I survived.

By Jacquelyn at Adventures in the Ordinary.
:angel:


When You Don't Want to Say Thanks


Giving thanks. Sometimes it's hard to do when the holiday set aside for thanks-giving involves in-laws, slushy weather, disastrous kitchens, and crazy kids, not to mention those deeper extended family issues that materialize only on these blessed events.

But nonetheless, we are to do so. To give thanks, that is. And if you're like me, continual thanksgiving conjures an image of this mama who smiles with a knowing head shake at the eternal stickiness on the doorknobs. A risen-early woman walking amongst the fallen leaves in grateful worship to her Creator. Perfectly fine with the dirty dishes.

These can be true. But they're not usually true for me, if I'm honest. When I'm in the liturgical rhythm of laundry, laundry, laundry, my natural instinct is not to lift my arms in praise. I wish it was.

You know the only way I'm able to change my attitude from grumbling to grateful when I just don't feel like it?

I just choose to say thanks. I don't wait for my emotions to change.

I change Finn's dirty diaper, I scrunch my nose, and I murmur without a smile on my face, "Thank you God for this little body You've entrusted me with."

I open my inbox to untold unread emails and say, "Lord, thanks for this technology and these people in my life and this laptop." I'm still bummed about all the email I need to process.

I open the minivan door and witness the horror that is the cacophony of clutter, and I say, "God, thanks for these little people that are home with me."

And slowly, slowly, something miraculous happens. My heart changes. It really, really does. It's usually not unicorns and sparkles outwardly, but it is prettier on the inside.

I'm still not in love with the poop or the what-is-that-on-the-floorboard?, but I'm a little more in love with the Giver of Life. I'm more aware of the unbelievable gifts soaked in my life. I'm humbled.

And so it is the same on Thanksgiving Day. There's people and noises and casseroles and chaos, and often a sweet potatoed floor. And those perpetrators are reasons for thanks—they're gifts from God.

This season, don't wait for your feelings to flourish. Say thanks anyway, and see what happens.

In what parts of your life do you have to consciously choose to say thanks?

by Tsh Oxenreider, Simple Mom

     

(in)courage
   

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Because Thanksgiving is More than a Holiday

22 Nov 2011
I've been addicted to speed.

So when nearly 40 of us speed addicts signed up for this university study —

who knew how impossibly beautiful the intervention could be?

I had done this, smeared my life into one unholy blur.

This was the intervention the university researcher offered: When we felt it in the veins, the stress racing ugly, the speed winding life angry, we were to audibly give thanks. Give thanks right out loud. That was it. It wasn't complicated. It wasn't easy.

The great stress intervention — was a straight up injection of gratitude.

We did this for two weeks.

I'd sling babies up on hips and I'd holler hard for kids to hurry — and do parents talk of this, how the clock can tick like thunder in your ears, and you can be lightning, striking hearts?



When the stress roils and I'm heavily under the influence of speed, then is the time for the stress intervention, and I'd breathe deep and I'd say it out loud:

"Thank You for crazy towhead kids. Thank You for ridiculous legos. Thank You for socks even if they mismatch. And thank You that we're here together, breathing together right now...that there's now."

And I'd be doing that, breathing deeper.

Giving thanks is profoundly life giving.



But an hour later, I'd be popping it down again, perfectionism like a pill, and the hurry, it makes us all hurt, and I've seen the ache in the eyes of my children. Why in the world do we do this?

I've about torn my hair right out, my heart right out, for the pure, aching rush of it all.

Each time it comes easier, to interrupt stress with thanks, the time after that even easier.

For fourteen days, we interrupt every stress with straight gratitude.

There's a 53% decrease in stress.



Stress decreases by half – simply by multiplying our thanks.

Why in the world don't we do this?

It wasn't complicated. It wasn't easy.

It was beautiful, the way thanksgiving gave us our lives back. The way we laughed again.

Isn't this what the gift the children really want?



I see how one son here, wound and frayed, how he struggles to talk. Secondhand smoke, it can choke a kid but secondhand stress  — it can just about crush him.

A thousand children in a study, that is what they wanted more anything: not more time with their parents, but their parents to feel less stress more of the time.

Nearly half of all children said that how their parents most failed was  that they failed to control their own anger. But if they counted their own blessings – they could.

Why don't we do this?



If gratitude is an antidote for anxiety...

and giving thanks is a real cure for stress —

why relegate thanksgiving to a holiday when giving thanks can revolutionize our whole lives?

I watch how she reads. I watch how the light falls. I watch how the gifts fall.

I do this, record the the gifts, gather the moments like manna.

It's could be this feast everyday — a Thanksgiving Feast everyday.


People who keep gratitude journals are 25% happier. Twenty-five percent happier.

Is this why God commands us to always give thanks?

What sane person doesn't want to be 25% happier?

Why in the world don't we do this?

Joy is always a function of gratitude — and gratitude is always a function of perspective.

If we are going to change our lives, we're going  have to change is the way we see.

This recording our gratitudes, this looking for blessings everywhere, this counting of gifts–  this is what changes what we are looking for. This is what changes our perspective. 

Thanksgiving is the lens God means for us to see joy all year round.

The light's getting gloriously caught in her hair.

The stress untangles.



The moment's a gift, a grace, and I chronicle it in the One Thousand Gifts app...

"The sound of the marble roller and her talking to herself, singsong... "

and speed slows to wonder.

Why miss our lives?

All the ways He loves?

This is the gift all the children want : us all here and awake to crazy Grace.



Us all in this world addicted to speed, unwrapping the real secret of time management, unwrapping the fullest life:

In the stressful times : seek God

In the painful times : praise God

In the harried times : hallow God

In the terrible times : trust God.

And at all times — and at all times –

Thank God.

And there is it, at the beginning of gift-giving season — the light slanting everywhere, the stress all ebbing — and us His children counting the happy grace of all His gifts...

Because Thanksgiving is more than holiday–

It's the Way to Wake up to Really, Fully Living

The One Thousand Gifts  App is our free gift to you this Thanksgiving... making life application of giving thanks everyday easier — and making life transformation an everyday reality.

Wherever you are, count your blessings, collect gifts, count it all joy. Because there's no way to enter into His courts but through the gates of Thanksgiving — and it's only in His presence is fullness of Joy!

The free app makes everyday Thanksgiving:

~ Launches with a quote from One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

~ Invites you to chronicle a gift with text or with photo.

~ Automatically chronologically counts and date stamps your gifts.

~ Allows you to search your gifts, scroll through your gifts, and share your gifts — via email, Facebook or Twitter. Stand in the assembly and give Him thanks, give Him glory! We were made for this!

~ Scroll through the #1000gifts Twitter Stream and read a symphony of thanksgiving to God!

Count Gifts — and know You can count on God... Keep Calm and Count On.

Download the free app at iTunes and for android devices– and invite one friend to take the dare to count gifts with you this gift giving season... because who doesn't want the gift of being 25% happier?

Wherever thanks is possible... joy is always possible.



<a href="http://onethousandgifts.com/get-the-app/" mce_href="http://onethousandgifts.com/get-the-app/" title="one thousand gifts app"><img src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6110/6379625099_23f65ba0fc_m.jpg" mce_src="http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6110/6379625099_23f65ba0fc_m.jpg" width="240″ height="159″ alt="one thousand gifts app"></a>

~ Ann Voskamp


Q4U:

How is stress hurting you? Your relationships?

What's your plan to manage stress this holiday season? How is giving thanks part of your stress intervention plan?


How is changing your perspective changing your life? How is giving thanks changing your life?

Join the conversation by clicking here...

:angel:

My New "To-Do" List

Posted: 22 Nov 2011 10:30 PM PST


Thanksgiving is upon us, so I've made my list, and am checking it twice:  Mashed Potatoes (the Make Ahead recipe),  Cider Baked Turkey (purchase the juice), Butterhorn Rolls (for Gratitude Rolls),  Pumpkin Bars, and I must remember to cut out the card stock for the Leaves of Thanks tradition.

There are so many things to do today as I rush to ready ourselves for our grand feast: a feast to feed the tummies of so many of our loved ones. Yet as I rush, shop, clean, cook, bake, and referee, sometimes I forget to just breathe, and savor the moments we are creating.

While I want to feed tummies, more importantly, my desire is to feed souls.

Will you join me in re-evaluating the check list and prioritizing the essentials for your weekend?

I've scribbled my new "To-Do" List.


Feed Gratitude. As I nurture this quality, joy thrives.
Feed Flexibility. Our best laid plans may not happen. Guests will be late. Food may get cold, but in the scheme of things, it's nothing.
Feed Patience. (Lots of Patience)  A hot-tempered man stirs up dissension, but a patient man calms a quarrel. Proverbs 15:18
Feed Laughter. There's nothing better than cultivating an atmosphere of deep belly laughing after a satisfying meal.
Feed Contentment. With all the Black Friday Sales, it's difficult to remember the balance of "need vs. want."
Feed Compassion. Even though Old Aunt Sue has shared the same story for the fifteenth time, make her feel as if it is the first.
Feed Encouragement. We're fragile. A blessed word makes hearts soar.
Feed Forgiveness. This is the year. Lay it at His feet. Let our Lord carry the burden. Extend forgiveness. Experience freedom.

As I savor the moments of family time this weekend, my "To Do" List reminds me:  Feed Them.
This weekend, slow down and remember to feed their soul, their heart, their imagination, their creativity, and of course, their tummy. When the turkey is gone, and the mashed potatoes are cold, all that is left are the shared moments and memories of doing Life together, and I want to make the most of them, don't you?

What could be added to your new "To Do" List?
Jen Schmidt shares both the beauty and bedlam of her everyday life at Balancing Beauty and Bedlam.

(This post was inspired by Lisa Leonard's precious necklace.)

:angel:

you feel it?  The air feels crisper, and color is bursting forth everywhere.  God, the designer of seasons, is beautifully transforming the canvas of our world right before our eyes. Just as He colors the leaves, He delights in creating a new portrait in our hearts.  Two years ago, a metamorphosis began for me.  A single gal for 42 years, I honestly had no hopes of marriage.  I had not had a date in 9 years.  Then, one day, God changed everything. What a joyous season! – flowers, invitations, and an outrageously expensive white dress filled my days.  The picture would have been perfect had it not been for one dark shadow.  Cancer.  The same day as my bridal shower, a group of us gathered to cry out to God for a dear friend's healing – my best friend's beloved husband had been diagnosed with stage four Lung Cancer.  Her darkest hour came during my sweetest season.  As we gathered together, locked hands, and raised our voices to our Maker, our hearts united and drew strength from one another and from our Savior.  Joy and sorrow mixed during that night of prayer, and we walked out in hope. The vision of my dear friend and her husband surrounded by men praying over them gave birth to greater faith and perseverance in the midst of an unbelievable season.

Isaiah encourages us "to know how speak a word in season to him who is weary."   A small gesture today could breathe life into someone's darkness:

Call someone to catch up and pray for them
E-mail an encouraging verse
Buy someone a cup of coffee
Send a funny card to make them laugh
I am so thankful for the power of prayer and friendship.  As the seasons change, we  must remain present and available to one another. May God teach me how to be an encouragement "in season and out."

By Lyli, 3dLessons4Life
:angel:

 

Be Present This Holiday Season

Nov 26 2011

Ornament by Lisa Leonard

The holidays come and the busyness of life heightens, doesn't it?

In addition to the every day, there are cards to be sent, presents to be bought, cookies to be baked, a tree to be trimmed and so much more.

Amidst the chaos, I find myself stretched thin, in a holiday fog as I go from one thing to the next.

Please tell me you can relate.

From Black Friday to New Year's life is just go, go, go.

But not this year.

This year, I am making a commitment.

I will be present.

I will not get overwhelmed.

I will serve the poor.

I will enjoy holiday traditions.

I will be present.

I will not overcommit.

I will bless others.

I will reflect on the majesty of the Lord as I sing "Silent Night".

I will be present.

Will you join me in this commitment to be present?

Let's make this holiday season extra beautiful by taking things in stride, enjoying the moments and giving thanks to the One who came to earth for us.


:angel:
The Guest Who Wouldn't Leave


I looked up from the toys strewn all over my kids' room and glanced at the clock. I calculated how long I would need to cook dinner. My husband would arrive home any minute, and my guest was still here.

Usually I have more control over the situation. I drive this friend of mine to the store about once a week. Speaking in my second language to my Indonesian friend, as we walk with our young kids around the stiflingly hot store wears me out. But at least I can say that it's time to go and drive her home.

But this time I pulled up in front of her house, and she stayed in my car.

"I'm not ready to go home yet. Can I come to your house?"

A half hour into her visit, I wracked my tired brain for more questions, more topics of conversation to draw out my quiet friend. Then her 3-year-old son with the disability started banging his head on the floor. And as she normally does, I waited for her to scoop up her thrashing son into her arms and shout her goodbye as she struggled out my front door.

But this time she stayed.

And she began crying and talking like she'd never before shared. I already knew some of the hard things in life. Her arranged marriage to her husband who keeps her at a distance. Her strained relationship with her in-laws—with whom she and her husband live. The blame placed on her for her son's health problems. Her distance from her God, to whom she prays in Arabic.

This time she told me more and my heart broke again. She said she wanted to leave her husband that week. I thought about this friend as a single mom, caring for an autistic son on her own, and I forgot about dinner.

I was afraid to do it, but I prayed for her to my close God, and though we don't share our beliefs, she listened. And she stayed.

I talked about a love that never ends and comfort from a God who cares and verses that give life. I waited for her to walk away, thrashing against my words as they banged in her head, shouting her final good-bye.

But she stayed.

And dinner would just have to wait, and I knew my husband would understand, and the mess got bigger as the kids played, and her mess wasn't going to go away with one conversation. And her heart needed more than a fixed marriage or a healthy son.

BUT, days later, she sent a text. Though this certainly isn't the end of the story, for now anyway, she wouldn't leave him. For now, she would stay.

By Rebecca Hopkins, Borneo Wife

Photo Credit, Tibchris

:angel:

How about you, friend?
What are you thankful for today?

:angel:

A Sunday Scripture

Nov 27 2011

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; for 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 until 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.

::

With so much love to you and yours on this weekend of giving thanks – Lisa-Jo, community manager of (in)courage.

:angel:

I remember over-hearing a lady talk about her "good dishes" and how she saved them for special guests and occasions when they ate in the dining room. On regular days, her family ate off of plastic picnic plates in the kitchen, just to be safe.

These "good dishes" she referred to weren't priceless heirlooms or antiques, they were simply what I would call pretty dishes. This struck me as kind of strange. Why would you have to settle for "not good" plastic dishes every day and then only a couple of times a year when you had the "right guests" you could enjoy your "good" dishes in the dining room?

It seemed a little backwards to me. I mean, what was the worst that could happen if I used my "good" dishes on a regular day? Maybe a dish would break while we were eating tacos on an ordinary Tuesday. Yes, it could happen! But what if a dish didn't break on a Tuesday and we enjoyed those good dishes for 365 days in a row? Hmmm...



It struck me if my good dishes were that irreplaceable, I had my priorities a wee bit off. If my pretty dishes had to be saved for "someday" with "special guests," what message was I sending to my family about celebrating every day blessings? Is celebrating gratitude at the table something to be experienced only when everything is "perfect" and we have a special day set aside for it? I didn't want hospitality or gratitude to be something we reserved for only when we had the perfect conditions.

I had so many blessings under my roof and around my table on ordinary week days, I wanted to acknowledge my thankfulness now! In fact, if I was blessed enough to even have "good dishes" I decided I was going to live as a rebel and set my table with good dishes any day of the year.



Blessings are meant to be noticed, shared, appreciated and celebrated. Always. Not just on special occasions.

I want to create a sense of gracious hospitality in our home and nurture gratefulness around our table more often than just when we have "the right guests" or the "perfect occasion." Putting an extra measure of care and beauty into our every day moments, including setting our table with pretty dishes or inviting guests to our home even on ordinary days, is one way I remind our family how blessed we are by God every day in immeasurable ways.



Celebrating the every day blessings with the "good dishes" is a visual symbol to me, a way to cement that attitude of gratitude, hospitality and thanksgiving more deeply in our hearts.

It might be risky to set the table with the good dishes on ordinary Tuesdays (you never know what might happen!) but I think I'll take that risk if it helps my family to remember how really blessed we are today.
:angel:

Thoughts From the Cave




Although the past few years have been hard for my family and I,  God has used them  to bring about needed changes  and growth.  I have learned more about God's grace, and He has produced in me a deeper love for others! At times I have faced  inner turmoil and wrestling with God. Questioning. Unknown. Fear.  Feeling out of control. God and a few of His people have taken  the time to help  sort through each one.  They helped us set it all at the foot of the cross. Our faith has grown.

Faith that He knows everything...even when I can see nothing!


When it rains it pours? That's what it feels like!

I get irritated when my husband says, "God is good..."

I want to yell, "but this is all so hard!"

Yes, but God is STILL good.

Psalm 57:1 "Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me, for in you my soul takes refuge; in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge,til the storms of destruction pass by. I cry out to God Most High, to God who fulfills His purpose for me.  He will send from heaven and save me...God will send out His steadfast love and His faithfulness..."

As I face each day, there are things that need to get done, places to go, and people who need me.  I need to purpose to focus on this truth: God IS kind and merciful, and even though it feels like I am hiding in a cave, I'm hiding under the shadow of His wings. (like David in the cave–His situation seemed desperate, but the truth was that he was exactly where God wanted him. Secure in God's protecting embrace!)

Then there are times I peer into the future. I look around me and see the the way things are and I become discouraged!  I look ahead and I become fearful. Stressed!

"Mom, are you stressed today?"  How did he know? I've not yelled and screamed. I've not spoken harshly to him. "It's your face, Mom. You have that look. You look stressed!" I can't hide it from my family when I am irritated or carrying those things that are not mine to carry! And I can't hide it from God either.

"Are you stressed, Gina?" As if HE has to ask! He is not really ASKING, He is drawing me to Himself! "Are you stressed? Why are you peering into the future? Why are you carrying other people's burdens? Why are you overwhelmed? Why are you concerned about your reputation? Aren't I big enough to handle all of that?  Haven't I already proven MYSELF to you over and over?"

"Yes, Lord. You have. I'm sorry. Please forgive me!"

He always does!


God is so patient and merciful.  And even though it might feel like I am hiding in a cave,  I'm hiding under the shadow of His wings.  (Like David in the cave. His situation seemed desperate, but the truth was that he was exactly where God wanted him, securely in God's protecting embrace!)

Securely in God's protecting embrace!

by Gina at Keepin' it Real

Building Character in Your Children





As a home decor blogger, normally I would be writing an article about building character and I'd mean character like the charm of an old house. But truth be told, I'm far more concerned about my kids character than I am about any home decor project I've ever attempted.

I have three children, ranging in age from 23 down to 11. While our youngest is just 11, I have a lot of hope and "confident expectation" for the man he will become. He is a young man in process, but he has a heart that could be shaped and used greatly by the Lord. Right now, we are deep into character building. I don't know the end of the story yet. But I will report back to you on how that goes in about 10 years.

Yet I can say with confidence, at ages 20 and 23, my girls have already turned into great young women of God. They care about each other and their brother, they respect their parents and they are smart hardworking college educated kids! They are still growing and maturing, as we all should do for a lifetime, but I am confident enough in them to know their hearts are fully surrendered to God and His plan for their life. They are self-sacrificing, God-honoring young women whose character is evident to all who know them. And because of those quality in them, He has many more great things in store!

So how did I raise such amazing kids? Am I super mom? Should I win the mother of the year award?

No, not at all. I have failed many times. I'm not the perfect mom and my husband is not the perfect dad. I didn't win the popular mom vote, the most fun mom award or the most Martha-like homemaker award. We didn't read all the right parenting books or put our kids on the right schedules for success. We didn't go to parenting seminars or have a detailed step by step plan for how to raise our kids. We disappointed our kids and ourselves many times. We cried many tears and prayed many prayers along the way. Our kids are amazing, but not perfect. And they can still fail! We are not the perfect family by any stretch of the imagination.

For you young moms, I don't have all the parenting answers. I'm not an expert and don't claim to have the success formula.

I've seen children grow up and choose to go their own way, with their free will — and it breaks their mama's hearts. My heart breaks for those moms, many of whom did all they could and their children still disappointed them. We always have to hold our kids with open hands.


All I can offer you new moms, who are just beginning this journey of motherhood, is what I tried with all my heart to do over the past 23 years:

Faithfully build character into your children every chance you get. Even if you are not the perfect mom in every way, you can be faithful in that. Here are just a few ways to build and model character while raising those children:

Nurture a healthy love and fear of the Lord into their hearts.
Teach them the character qualities of God so they will understand ALL of who He is.
Be there for them ... praise them, hug them goodnight, kiss them goodbye.
Look directly in their eyes when they speak to you. Listen to them.
Be humble about your own imperfection, but firmly instill how much you love them.
Take care of them in ways that are important, let go of the guilt or pressure to be super parents.
Let them fail and take responsibility for it. Love them through it.
Teach them to think and reason and make good choices...and model that for them.
Let your children see that your marriage and family are a priority.
Teach them to show respect, love and concern for others.
Model what it means to love your neighbor as yourself.
Give them opportunities to practice selfless and sacrificial love for others.
Let them shine in how God created them and cheer them on.
Challenge them to be who God created them to be even when it is hard work to get there.
Inspire them for what is possible with God!
Pray for them.
Pray with them.
Remember Who they belong to.
When they question your wisdom, remind them Who they need to please, above all others.
Remind them often that being their mom is one of the highest God-given privileges and honors of your life.
Hang in there moms. I pray you will see the rewards of your labor and the joy of watching your kids grow up to be Godly young men and women of character someday!

How do you build character into your children?


Melissa Michaels, author of The Inspired Room and the ebook NOT a DIY Diva


The Story Project {5 CD Giveaway!}


I'm so excited to be able to connect with all of you (in)courage readers and share about The Story CD and The Story Tour this December.  I'm sure you know my wife Angie from Bloom, her website, or maybe you saw her out with Women of Faith. I'm her balder half.  I'm a singer, not a writer like Angie.



I've had many incredible experiences in my life.  From growing up in Congo, Africa, to sharing life with Angie and my girls, to being in Selah for the past 15 years.

Outside of releasing our latest Selah project "Hope of the Broken World" this year (you know I gotta plug my CD) one of the most significant projects I've worked on is The Story.

I think it's one of the most important projects to come out of Christian music over the past 40 years.  It's that powerful.



The CD is based on "The Story" Bible (The Bible written as a seamless narrative: takes out portions like 'Hukanuka gave birth to Bukabu and Mafugabu').

It's also based on Max Lucado's book "God's Story your story" and Randy Frazee's book "The Heart of the Story."

It's a two disc set with 18 songs about 20 Biblical characters performed by 24 artists!  No small feat!

Bernie Herms (producer, co-wrote "East to West" by Casting Crowns, you may know his wife- Natalie Grant) produced The Story and he and Nichole Nordeman (my favorite Christian music writer) co-wrote all the songs.  Each song focuses on one or two Biblical characters and shares from their perspective.

Bernie asked if I would sing several of the demos for the other male artists as well as record one of the songs on the album. I demoed 7 of the songs.

Originally, I was supposed to be one of the thieves on the cross as a duet with Brandon Heath.  I emailed Nichole and said, "That's fine, just make sure I'm the good thief."  That all changed after I demoed "Broken Praise" (Job's song).  I looked at how Nichole captured the thoughts of a daddy who had lost all his kids, a man having to listen to advice from friends, a man wrestling with God's sovereignty as he walked through this devastating reality.

We lost our daughter Audrey 3 years ago. Many times, good friends wanting to help would offer empty words.  The second verse says  "If one more well intentioned friend tries to tie up my loose ends, hoping to with rug and broom, sweep awkward moments from the room."   The song put words to thoughts I didn't know how to express.

After I demoed that song I said to Bernie, "If the artist who is supposed to record this passes on it I want this song."  A couple weeks later I came in to do another demo and was told "Broken Praise" was mine.  I never re-recorded my lead vocal.  My emotions were so raw that day we kept the demo vocal.

As this CD takes you from Adam and Eve to Moses, from Mary, the Mother of Jesus to Paul, I think you are going to see these Biblical characters as...people.   I look at them as these larger then life personas who knew how everything was going to work out.  They didn't.  Many of them blew it, and many saw themselves as failures.  Meanwhile, God in His sovereignty weaved through each life using them to bring Him glory and to share The Story of His redemptive work.

I hope and pray this CD will impact you, and allow you to see how great God is.  How He can use anyone, and how much He loves us.

Join me and Amy (Selah), Max Lucado, Randy Frazee, Steven Curtis Chapman, Francesca Battistelli, Natalie Grant, The Newsboys, Anthem Lights, and Bernie Herms as we tour The Story in 14 cities this December! You can also follow me on twitter @toddsmithonline for updates on The Story Tour.

Thank you for letting me crash your blog for the day,

Blessings

Todd

GIVEAWAY: We're excited to be giving away five copies of The Story CD – to enter just leave a comment sharing the Bible character you most relate to – we love hearing how Scripture come alive for you. {Winners will be announced Friday December 2nd over here}
:angel:

November 29, 2011

I Want To Learn.
Tags:  Everyday Faith



Ecclesiastes 3:1

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens."

I want to learn how to use a sewing machine.

I want to learn how to make popcorn on the stove.

I want to learn the skill of appreciating a season while you are in it.

I want to learn to risk wisely.

I want to learn the secret to the icing on my Aunt Mary's caramel cake.

I want to learn French.

I want to learn to play the piano.

I want to learn how to say the hard thing in the right way at the right time.

I want to learn the art of making chex mix that is perfectly salty.

I want to learn to love like Jesus.

I want to learn how to fondly remember the past without longing for it.

I want to learn when to use "whom" in a sentence.

I want to learn when to keep my mouth shut.

I want to learn how to make bunting.

I want to learn to be more disciplined with my time.

I want to learn to cook a whole chicken.

I want to learn the ins and outs of editing photographs using free online tools like picnik.com.

I want to learn the art of furniture arrangement.

I want to learn when to take cookies out of the oven.

I want to learn the history of Scotland's Covenanters.

I want to learn how to throw a really beautiful party.

I want to learn how to wait on God.

. . . . .

What do you want to learn?

. . . . .

By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs

:angel:

on being thankful...

Nov 30 2011

"If one could only learn to appreciate the little things...
A song that takes you away, for there are those who cannot hear.
The beauty of a sunset, for there are those who cannot see.
The warmth and safety of your home, for there are those who are homeless.
Time spent with good friends for there are those who are lonely.
A walk along the beach for there are those who cannot walk.
The little things are what life is all about.
Search your soul and learn to appreciate."
-Shadi Souferian

This Thanksgiving season brings with it a lot of sadness for our little family. It will be one of the many "firsts" that we will be experiencing as a family of four, not five. When I think about that, my heart sinks. When I think about how much she loved pumpkins and turkeys, I can't help but to feel like a part of my heart is missing.

But then I look around me.
I look at the amazing fingerprints she left; not only my my life, but the lives of her siblings and family.
I think about the amazing 9 years and the blessings that came with that.
I think about how my life would be so very different if she were not a part of it.
I think about my amazing older children; how far they have come; how much they have been through.
I think about my devoted husband; he has been my rock and anchor through so very much.
I think about my Savior; He has never left me, even during those times that I could not feel His presence.

So, in this seasons of "firsts" when everything around me tells me that I have nothing to be thankful for, I look back and remember all of the blessings that have been bestowed on me, despite the heartache that has come my way. I remember the words of my Father and smile...

"These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world" -John 16:33

I encourage you to stop, think about what is really important. It is not the turkey, the stuffing, or the table settings, but who is around your table table that matters. It is those people in your lives that you simply could not do "life" without.

Be truly, honestly, painfully thankful for the many blessings in your life. Before you know it, they will be distant memories that you long to experience again.

And most of all, be thankful to the one who allowed you to have those blessings. Be thankful for His grace. Be thankful for His mercy. Be thankful for His sovereignty.

Because you and I would be nothing if it were not for Him.

:angel:


The Winds Of Change – Becoming A Proverbs 31 Woman


As I sit here the wind outside is blowing. First one way and then another. The leaves can't seem to find a solid place to land. It has been like this for a few days now. One moment our lawn is filled with leaves from the neighbor's trees and when I look out again our lawn is surprisingly clear.

Such is my life at times.

Times when it seems like everything around me is blowing and changing and I just want to find a solid place to land.

It can start from the moment that I wake – so many things I think there is to do. And although I am up much earlier than I should need to be, I find myself blowing around until the door closes behind us.

And I am missing the opportunities to see and hear the sounds and beauty around me. I am so busy flying from one spot to another, looking for that solid place to land that I miss what is right in front of me.

The thump, thump of little feet running down the hallway.

A messy-haired bright-eyed boy who wants nothing more than to say good morning to his mama and have some juice.

A young boy who has questions about the world because he is trying to find his place in it.

When my focus is on myself and all that I think needs to be done in a day, I stop focusing on what God has placed as gifts right in front of me in my family.

Smiles and laughter, hugs and love, encouragement and respect.

These are the things that I need to be intentional about every day with my family. These are the things that I want them to remember about me.

Proverbs 14:1 "The wisest of women builds her house, but folly with her own hands tears it down."

Not that I got yet another load of laundry done, or vacuumed the floors again.  While an important part of my families daily life  – it isn't what they should remember about me.

It shouldn't be my main focus!

Proverbs 22:6 "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it."

So as the winds blow outside I know that I do not have to be moved. I can secure my foundation on Christ. Focus on His will for me as a wife and mother. And start to become a Proverbs 31 Woman.

Proverbs 31:2 "Her children rise up and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praises her."

Proverbs 31:10-12 "An excellent wife who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life."

In what area do you struggle in becoming a Proverbs 31 Woman?

By: Kristin at The Smith Family Journey
:angel:

The Original (in)RL: Counting Down 12 Days of (in) real life Christmas Giveaways

December 1 2011



The wind grows colder, the skies go deep-fall blue and the whisper of Christmas is just around the corner.

And around one more corner after that will be (in)RL on April 27 and 28th.

I've been thinking of them both...

How our vision of bringing women together really started with one woman and a baby in a manger long ago.

We've talked, our team, of the Word made flesh who came and made His dwelling among us. How we love that God refused to stay in the virtual and instead came into our everyday.

Christmas was the first (in)RL—the original in real life.
Everything we may do is only an echo and extension.

When Lisa-Jo first spilled words over the phone to me of her passion for letting our community connect with each other in real life, I heard something else in between the lines.

I heard the heartbeat of God within what she was saying, what she was asking all of us to do.

Community here in this place is a start but it's not the be-all, end-all of what loving one another means.

We're made for face-to-face, heart-to-heart, laughter we can hear, smiles we can see, hands we can touch.

We're made for real life.

Christmas is so much about that, really. When you pull back the tinsel and distractions, the memories and meaning that remains is really all about relationships.
About who we are together.

About who we are (in) Him.

Over the next few days, we'll be celebrating in creative ways with you and we hope in all of it you'll see our hearts for this season and (in)RL too.

It's simple, really...

We love Jesus.


And we love you.

by Holley Gerth, a girl who loves Nutella and friendship

:angel:

Go to (in)Courage.com today.........they are doing 25 days of Christmas. Greeting cards and gifts.....(I try not to advertise on here, but think you could look in here and decide for yourself.
jh
:angel:

what if?

Dec 2 2011



the other evening after tucking the boys into bed, steve came downstairs and said, 'i just had the most surreal experience. i was telling david to lay down and kissing him good-night and as i looked at him i saw a nine year old boy–no disability. just david. it was like our souls had a connection.'

as soon as he described the interaction the tears began to roll down my cheeks. i knew exactly what he meant–there are times, small moments, when i see beyond david's disability and into his soul. and i see a little boy stuck in a body that won't cooperate with him. i see him wanting to speak words and unable to get them out. i see him wanting to tell me something, to ask for something or describe something but there is a chasm between us and it's too wide to cross.

and sometimes in those moments i let myself dip my toe into the dark, scary pool of what if? what if david wasn't born with a disability? what if he had ten fingers? what if he could munch on a hamburger and fries at mcdonald's and begged to play just one more game on the ipad? what if he could imagine stories and tell me all about them and illustrate his ideas on leftover sheets of computer paper?

the truth about 'what if?' is, it doesn't exist.

the truth is, i will never know 'what if?'

the truth is, david was born with a disability. he has seven fingers instead of ten and he can't speak words or express complex thoughts. he is a soul stuck in a broken body.

and the truth is, time spent thinking about 'what if?' is time wasted.

today i choose to focus on what is. today is a new day with joy waiting to be discovered. today is a new day with mercies waiting to be uncovered. today i am grateful for what is. grateful for a nine year old who is healthy and silly. a little boy who is curious and loves to explore and learn new things. grateful for my sweet son who loves to cuddle and kiss and be tickled.

what is, is beautiful.

The steadfast love of the lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness, O Lord.

:angel:

How Your Marriage Can Survive a Storm



When couples stand before their friends and families on their wedding day and pledge to love one another "for better or for worse," they're probably not thinking that the "for worse" times will come to pass. However, it is likely that most of us will have to weather some kind of storm at some time in our marriages.

The morning after our firstborn's birth, our pediatrician came in to tell us that some of his blood work came back abnormal. By that afternoon, the ambulance crew from another city was there to take my baby. I will never forget the horror of that day as we decided that Ben should go with Landon, while I stayed the additional night I needed to recover from my C-section. I immediately felt closer to Ben than I ever had before, and it was precisely at that moment he had to leave.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of a ten-day NICU stay, doctors visits (in a city three hours away), lab draws, and a major surgery at 7 weeks old.  Add to that the lack of sleep that comes with a newborn, and it easily could have put a huge strain on our marriage. It was a very painful time, but God really used all of those hours to fuse mine and Ben's hearts even more tightly together.


Our son a few days before surgery

If you find yourself in the midst of a storm, here are three suggestions to help you come out with a thriving marriage:

1.) Do not blame each other.
It is certainly true that there are situations where one spouse is truly at fault {affairs, racking up major credit card bills to the detriment of your credit, etc.} but I'm speaking about the things that come about in life naturally. If your spouse loses his job due to company cutbacks, be very intentional to be encouraging to him. His ego is probably already punctured and deflated- he doesn't need for his wife to add to the injury.

2.) Together, allow God to be your comforter.
If you are going through something truly difficult, you obviously will lean on each other, but there will most likely come a moment when you are both so weak that you just can't be the rock for one another.
Ben was so strong through the whole ordeal, until the day of Landon's surgery. I will never forget when the surgeon came out to talk to us, Ben slid to the floor and sobbed. I was almost in a daze- seeing my strong man like that. I knew at that point that although Ben served as an awesome protector for our family, he simply couldn't protect us from everything- we would have to look to God for that role.

3.) Allow other people to help as well.
I honestly don't think any of us are meant to live isolated lives. In the book of Acts in the early church, we see church members readily helping one another. The help of others was amazing during our time of need. They brought food, they cried with us, they helped us financially, they generally loved on us in an amazing way.


- praise God he is doing well!



Dear sister, if you and your husband (or you alone, if you're single) are going through a rough spot- reach out! If you don't have a church home, I gently urge you to find one- the people there can help nurture you through your trials.


I truly hope that it is smooth sailing in your family right now. But the reality is, some of you reading this are probably at a time in your lives where you wonder how your marriage will ever endure the trials you are having.


But with lots of prayer, your marriage can survive, and even become better through it!



The hubby and I, along with Landon and our two daughters.

by Kelli Hays from More Bang for Your Bucks

:angel:

Pray for Me

Dec  3 2011



All I have to do is plunk out a few characters on my iPhone, maybe even while driving or otherwise distracted, to initiate a chain reaction that reverberates in heaven. You have the same power. Type in the words, "Please pray for me," and send it to your Facebook or Twitter feed. Very likely, your closest friends and relatives and even some acquaintances will stop what they are doing and lift you up before the Lord. Even more astonishing, God listens. He knows exactly what you need. And He acts.

Such knowledge gives me goosebumps.

Sadly, I don't usually think about the power that is accessible to me, about the power that has been shaping my life as long as I've been alive. My parents and grandparents were praying for me even before I was born. Nowadays my friends and loved ones, even complete strangers who have read my book or heard my story, tell me frequently that they're praying for me or for my kids or for my husband.

Too often I thank them the same way I would if they told me they liked my shoes. "How sweet," I say, forgetting that praying isn't a nice thing Christians do; it's a terrible, powerful expression of faith that brings us into the very throne room of the Almighty God.

What I think about even less is the people who don't have that kind of power available to them. They don't have a community of believers that has been praying for them. They don't have anyone they can turn to when in need of prayer.

I think of my friends Kitty and Earl, who became believers as adults and whose families are still unsaved. Their teenaged children are making painful life choices, and no grandparents are whispering in their ear, "Don't worry. We'll pray them through this." I think of a woman in Croatia who recently accepted Christ; she begged the missionaries who introduced her to Jesus to go back to the churches that sent had them and to plead with them to pray for her. "If they don't, no one else will," she said. "And I can't do this alone." She's right.

That woman in Croatia, and Kitty and Earl's children are all on my prayer list, each of them by name. Please pray for me that I won't forget to pray for them.

by Heather Gemmen Wilson
:angel:

Born of the Heart (A Wild Olive Tees Giveaway!)

Dec 5 2011



"Long before he laid down earth's foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love.

Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!)

He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son." Ephesians 1:4-6

It wasn't a particularly comfortable chair. Wicker, I think, with a thin padding. Like a worn, loose stuffed animal, I sat in that wicker chair and explained how I wanted to adopt a child one day. I wanted to take care of a little one, a neglected one who just needed to be loved. I wanted to hold them and nurture them, and give them security and warmth. I spoke with passion about my desire to adopt.

She said I wanted to adopt myself.

She told me that I was the little girl, sad and wanting for warmth, some affection, and nurture, and that my deep desire to adopt came from a deep lack of feeling adopted, taken in, loved myself. It was a revelation. And it only made me more steadfast to want to birth a child from the heart.

Oh, but adoption is so hard, right? Horror stories abound. "Bad" kids, tough experiences, life upheaval...this is adoption. The kids are just so "messed" up.

I was pretty messed up. I would do things that other little girls don't do, and as I got older, I became "that" teenager. But you know, down beyond the mess was a just a little girl who wanted to be loved...really loved. And deep down, that's what we all want; it's what we all need. Imagine if you were that little girl that was tossed aside, neglected, last on the priority list. Can you feel that for a moment? No bedtime songs, no kisses and hugs, no hot meals on a cold day. Take it further and add some shame, perhaps from abuse, perhaps from not being good enough to be loved. How desperately you want to be loved! Your heart aches for tenderness and belonging. But no one comes, because you do weird things, and you act out, and you don't know how to be good because good didn't get you to far in your short life.

It's obvious: you aren't good enough to be loved.

Oh what a lie from the enemy! And what a lie we have believed that a child must be put-together, seamless enough, in order to be adopted so that we would not be disrupted from our comfortable, already too-tired lives. What a sad, sad view of the Father's love for us.

You see my friend, you and I, we're just a mess...we're uncivilized and we do bad things (at the very least, we think them). We're selfish, and we hurt people. But we try to be good, and we try to be kind; we're all just trying to make it through and do the best we can. It's not enough though, we're still not good enough in the eyes of seamless. So a wild love swoops in and bleeds for us so that we can be adopted as children of God! The Father's heart is adoption; taking a broken heart and making it new.

We have the opportunity to be like our Father when we choose love.

Love adopts the ruffian and loves them besides themselves.

:angel:

Poverty Lives Right Down the Road

Dec 5 2011



Poverty lives right down the road.  She is my friend. She works without end to care for her family.  She is younger than me, but seems much older.  She has lived far more life than I can imagine.  She smiles and laughs, but in her eyes I  see pain.  At 32 years old, her vision is blurry. She has cataracts.  Through the haze she labors on in hopes of one day earning enough to pay for her surgery.

I add it up.  At the rate she is going it will take her more than 3 years to earn enough for the mere $200 it costs for a life-changing surgery.  I think.  I pray.  $200 is really nothing to me.  By US standards we are poor, 5 children on a meager salary, but over here we are the extremely wealthy.  The uber-rich. But, it is always an interesting dance, giving money.  We want to be careful not to enable others, make them dependent.  In this case, we decide to go ahead.

I gather friends to join me in paying and praying for the surgery, not because I couldn't do it myself, but because there is joy in joining together for a common cause. Joy in community.

The night of the surgery finally arrives.  Even though she does not share our faith, we join together and pray over her.  We tell her of Jesus healing the blind man, and how he can heal soul-blindness.  One friend slips cards with Bible verses into her hands.  She grips the cards as we make our way to the doctor.  We wait.  She is visibly shaking, so we pray.  Her eyes fill with tears as she thanks me for being such a good friend.  My eyes fill with tears thinking of all the pain she has endured in her life, and how she is blind in more ways than one.

Finally at midnight, she emerges with bandages and in pain.  We drive home in darkness and silence.

Over the next few weeks, we shower her with meals and help.  Recovery is slow and painful.

Weeks pass.  One day I hear her at the front door.  She tells me that she can see!!  The bandages are gone, the stitches are out.  Her eye is healed!!

I smile at her through tears.  Tears of joy at the success of the surgery, and tears of hope, that one day she might really see.

By Joy Forney, Grace Full Mama

Holiday Music {And A David Crowder Band Christmas Music Giveaway!}




Both of my children are coming home for Christmas. One will drive half-way across the country from the east coast while the other one flies above from the west coast. And we'll all be together for the holiday.

I was standing at the kitchen sink tonight when I learned they'll both be here and I was instantly transported to a Christmas just a few years back.

That night, I had boiled pasta on the stove while marinara bubbled on the eye nearby. The day was winding down and out on the patio, the snow was piling up. We didn't know it then, but we'd be stranded in the house for the next three days.

That night I'd filled up the sink and squeezed a bit of dish soap in the water and the soap suds had glistened. Behind me, at the kitchen table, my daughter sat with two friends at the kitchen table, and my son sat on a rickety bar stool, strumming his sister's guitar.

My mind had gotten lost in the swirl of flurries just outside the window, and I'd let the water warm my hands under the suds in the sink, and that's when I'd realized my son was figuring out a song that David Crowder sings.

I call David Crowder a poet. My husband likes to say he introduced the family to the David Crowder Band, because he was the first one in our family to hear of him. And ever since my husband introduced us all, David Crowder Band CDs are the only ones our entire family agrees on when we pile in the car for a road trip.

That night in the kitchen, the girls at the table stopped talking and I stood motionless there at the sink when they picked up the tune and I believed I might just cry. I stood and acted like this was normal – not wanting to mess up the moment. I felt my heart fill my chest as my son filled in the empty spaces with rich chords, and the girls broke into harmony. I stood still, and closed my eyes, and let go of the moment as they sang.

This year, the David Crowder Band has a holiday CD. It's called Oh for Joy, and it's exactly what we love about David Crowder – a ton of fun and an immense sense of reverence for this gift from heaven that changed us all. It's been my soundtrack this holiday season. I hit "play" and my foot starts tapping through "Joy To The World" and "The First Noel." And then – every time – the sounds of "Go, Tell It On The Mountain"  make me slow my roll and stop what I'm doing. You'll recognize all of the songs and you'll want to join in. Maybe over a sink full of suds. Maybe as you travel over the river and through the woods. But wherever you listen, it's an invitation to experience Immanuel – God right there with you.


~~~


:angel:

Dec 6 2011

Shifting our Perspective Back onto Hope

Sunday night we had guests over for dinner and I didn't clean my house.

There was an internal war inside of me – do I vacuum, dust and clean – or just let it go and focus on the cooking, the table, and the people who are coming?

Would I rather continue on with what had already been a peaceful day – or kick it into high gear, running around trying to make everything look "just right?" I won't even mention what kind of mood that puts the whole family in. Did our guests even care? Or even notice?

To some people, this Christmas season brings stress, dread and worry. I think of Narnia without Aslan – "always winter but never Christmas." We lose our focus as life gets hurried and complicated. We dash around doing things that really don't matter (like cleaning my house before the guests arrive!), and then our perspective shifts. We get so caught up in our present circumstances that we can't see beyond our difficulties.

I had been focusing all day on "hope," as I've been feeling hurts and pains that people around us have been experiencing this season. If we lose our hope – what else is there? Where do we turn?

Some call it optimism, but when I look deep into the Christ-child's eyes, I call it hope. It is enough assurance for me that I can put the dreariness of Christmas aside: money, commercialism, and even too much tradition, or making sure my house looks perfect to keep up an image that I have it all together.

We had such a great time with our guests. At one point I found myself looking down at the un-vacuumed carpet. For a split second I was embarrassed, but then I looked up into the faces of those around our table and my perspective shifted back into place.

It is through my faith, the basis for my hope, that my priorities are put into proper perspective. It's not about the crumbs on the floor, the perfect meal, the latest table setting – it's about the hope that resides in each one of us.

That's enough for me.

If you are entertaining this holiday season, what one thing will you be focusing on before that first knock on the door?
:angel:

Do You Hoard Blessings?



Confession: sometimes I withhold blessings from others. Maybe I don't pay a compliment that's deserved because part of me is jealous. Maybe I don't bestow an encouraging word to a child whose behavior angers me. Maybe I disagree with my husband and then don't extend an olive branch out of pride.

Everyone loses, even if I'm the only one aware that it's happened.

I recently heard preached, "Your mind is a reflection of your actions. When you do right you will feel right." Feeling right isn't found in the quest for self-esteem, but by esteeming others. "Let nothing be done through strife or vainglory; but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other better than themselves." ~Philippians 2:3



We hold the power each and every day to bestow blessings. It doesn't require money in our bank account or fancy credentials. Look your child in the eye and give your undivided attention; drop a note in the mail to the friend who weighs on your heart; text your husband just to tell him he's loved.

Stop and listen to a friend who needs your ear, even if you don't know what to say.

Knowing that God sacrificed his only son for us and Jesus laid down his life to save ours, how can we justify withholding blessings within our power to bestow?

:angel:

When you're feeling the weight of the lists



Steam rises from loaves of holiday bread cooling on the counter. The snow keeps coming down.

Checking off the to-do lists in late afternoon: lay out dishtowels to wrap the loaves up in, tie with sprig of cedar, a bow of raffia — gifts for the neighbors, the mailman, the farm vet.

Hard to wait for them to cool. Hard to wait. Hard, with all the lists and to-dos, to still at all in the spin of the season.

This, the season of waiting wonder: God gestates.

For nine long months, The Maker of everything hovered over the waters of the womb, divided His own cells and pulled on skin. God waited to make His entrance. Mary gently rubs her swelling abdomen. She waits. She prays. She stretches.

God stirs within. He moves her.

Is that how to truly enter into Christmas? Christmas comes like Christ: in the resting wait of gestation.

Like a mother longing for the holding of the Child:


1. We count the days.

Each day, opening the advent calendar square, reading the verse, each day turning over the next page in the tabletop devotional. We count and anticipate and wonder what this all means.




2. We think of His names

His names on the candlesticks, His name on the turntable, His name on the advent calendar, His names on the mantle: Messiah, Redeemer, Mighty God, Savior – Bread of Life. We wait for what will come from above and unexpectedly, right into our mire.




3. We prepare gifts for the Child.

We light candles and make a space in our hearts. We send cards of celebration to friends far and near, reaching out with His love. We invite a friend in for a cup of something warm and give her the gift of a listening ear. We give to the least of these and this is the gift to Christ Himself.



These gestational waiting days of anticipating the Christ Child, they gloriously stretch us.  Yet– whenever Christmas begins to burden, it's a sign that I've taken on something of the world and not of Christ. Any weight in Christmas has to be of this world. Christ came into this world as grace to lift all the weighty burdens.


Christ the Babe comes to us in Christmas as Christ the Savior comes to us on the Cross — seeking only our embrace.


I look over my list on the counter. What if I laid down efforts and expectations, perfectionism and performance? What if I breathed deep and simply waited with arms and heart and eyes wide open? What if Christmas was the season to let go of to-do lists adding up — to receive what's coming down? Love comes down.


Christmas, it isn't a product to wrap but a Person to unwrap. What can keep me today from simply receiving Him? Love comes down.


Christmas, it can't be bought. It cannot be created. It cannot be made by hand. Christmas can only be found. Where am I looking for Christ in the unexpected today? Love comes down.


In the stillness, we feel it — His movements. In the stillness, our hearts leap — His coming! In the stillness, we know it– what falls down upon us — breath of heaven.

Love comes down.

The steam of the bread it rises and I stand at the window watching it all come down, white and perfect and weightless.
:angel:

Playing with The Nativity

Dec  7 2011

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday dear Jesus.


Happy birthday to you.

My son is three.

This is the first year he has some understanding of Christmas, also known as Jesus's birthday.

Birthdays are a big deal to three-year-olds.

As soon as Elias made the connection (in October), he began singing Happy Birthday to Jesus.

{I think he thought this might make some Christmas gifts appear sooner.}

Whatever the reason for the Happy Birthday songs, I am excited that my son is excited about celebrating Jesus.

One of the most meaningful ways we have been able to talk about Christmas and Jesus's birth is with our children's nativity from DaySpring.



Here are five ways we have brought it to life:

1. We have the nativity set up in Elias's room – HIS space. It is on a small table where he can reach for it and interact with it. It is amidst Spiderman and Superman – and loved just as much.
2. We read Christmas stories each night, along with Scripture. We talk about Jesus's upcoming birthday, and how excited his parents were for him to be born.
3. We ask Elias questions about Jesus's birth. This gives him the opportunity to tell the story, in his words, as well as allows us to teach him any important details that he maybe leaves out, as three-year-olds tend to do.
4. We talk about each of the other figurines in the nativity and how they are part of Jesus's birth.
5. We pray together, thanking God for the beautiful gift of Jesus and the Christmas season.

If you don't have a nativity that your children can touch, I encourage you to buy one. Ours is one of our new favorite Christmas pieces.

{SPECIAL} DaySpring has a limited quantity of these children's nativities and they are offering them to (in)courage readers for 40% off with the code INDAY7. You can also use this code to get 40% off all totes!

{ADDITIONAL TIPS} Check out my post, Three Tools for Celebrating Advent with a Toddler for more tips.


{Question} How do you bring the nativity to life for your children?
  :angel:

My First Mothering Paycheck



I received my first paycheck for being a mother last month. Nine cents.  Handed directly to me by my five-year-old daughter.  Nine cents before taxes, social security and insurance are taken out.  To some, it's a laughable living, receiving less in five years than employees in sweat shops make in a day.  But you have to understand.  Nine cents is more than you and I believe it to be.  There are only two ways of arriving at this amount: by piecing together one nickel and four pennies, or using nine of those little Lincoln-bearing coins.

My paycheck came in the nickel and pennies variety.  In other words, I received not just one loose coin while digging through pockets before running yet another load of laundry.  Five valuable "monies," as my daughter calls them, were intentionally given to me.

One nickel and four pennies.  Five coins altogether.  In the mind of a preschooler who doesn't understand the value of the various colored coins, five is a lot.  Definitely more valuable than just one measly quarter.

My payment came as a result of a game I've played with my daughter over the years.  "Mama, can I have a lollipop?" my daughter asks, eager to raid her Halloween stash.

"Oh, it's going to cost you," I respond with a smile showing the real meaning behind my statement. Micayla is the sweet, affectionate sort, and it's no problem for her to run over and smother my face with wet, puppy-like kisses as payment.  But this time it's different.  Rather than running toward me, her little feet quickly carry her in the opposite direction.  Clanking noises fill her bedroom as she struggles to release the few coins in her much sought-after piggy bank.

"No, Micayla," I cry out, fearful I've taken this game too far. My dad frequently raises an eyebrow when watching this exchange, especially whenever I say the price is a kiss on Grandpa's cheek.  I've always known it borders buying my daughter's affection, something I desperately don't want to do.  I thought her laughter as she doles out her payments showed she understood the silliness behind my requests. But this time there is no kiss, just grunts as she struggles to free the hard plastic circle from the bottom of her piggy bank.

Have I just qualified for the worst mom award? Why did I start this silly game anyways?

My heart is pounding, fearful of what might ensue.  Frantic, I shout out, "I'm only kidding.  You don't need to pay me anything. Please don't give me anything."  I hope this doesn't permanently alter our relationship.  Will she forever view me as the mother who buys her love?  Oh, I hope not.

The rattling continues and then my daughter returns to my room, her face glowing with achievement, pride, and joy.  As her eyes gleam, she tells me in her most loving, innocent voice, "Mama, here's your reward for being such a great mother." It is ironic how just this morning I stepped over a penny, thinking it too insignificant to be worth my time to stoop and retrieve it.  Yet as she piles the once-deemed worthless coins on my nightstand, tears of gratitude well in my eyes.

Being a mom is undoubtedly one of the hardest jobs. I stay up late nursing Micayla back to health when she's sick, serve as a doctor after she scrapes her knees, and do my best to make learning fun, all the while teaching her valuable life lessons and instilling principles such as integrity and honor.  I do all these things without expecting anything in return, yet when I least expected it, I received the most priceless payment ever: nine cents.

By Stacy Voss, Founder of Eyes of Your Heart Ministries

:angel:

Planning a {Fabulous} Christmas Party

(in)courage

Every year I dream of hosting a fancy Christmas party.

You know the kind I'm talking about, right?

I'm talking about festive music, twinkling lights, specialty cheeses, mistletoe and spontaneous caroling – not to mention all my friends, family and neighbors mingling throughout my house, laughing and talking and generally having the best time they've ever had at a party.

Poof!

That was my bubble bursting . . . just like it does every year.

Though the idea comes up every year, I don't spend too much time daydreaming about a lovely holiday gathering, because I remember parties like that are impossible.


My house is too small.
I hate cleaning.
I don't know how to cook fancy holiday food.
My friends are too busy.
The weather might be bad.
My neighbors could get annoyed about the extra cars.
It takes so much time to decorate.
My cats don't like company.
Christmas music gives me a headache.

See? Planning a holiday party really isn't possible, practical, doable for me. Or is it?

Actually, planning a holiday party is completely attainable goal for any of us. And not just any party – You can plan a fabulous party.

Does that sound like wishful thinking?

I hear you. I've held New Year's Eve parties where nobody showed up except my best friend and my brother. I've hosted family dinners where the main dish turned into the main disaster. And I've stressed out about matching tablecloths and napkins, an equal number of sweet and salty snacks, and the perfect playlist more than once. (I've also spent way too much money and yelled at my family way too often over these same things!)

Thankfully, I've learned that planning parties – whether it's your family's holiday dinner, a white elephant gift exchange for your Sunday school class or an office open house for all your clients – doesn't have to be so painful.

That's why I've written Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind}.

I can't control the weather, teach you to cook like The Pioneer Woman or ban your crazy brother-in-law from all family gatherings. But I can teach you a simple step-by-step process for planning any kind of party, and help you ditch your reluctance (or panic!) for confidence and success.

Even though I've acquired a long list of to-dos and not-to-dos when it comes to planning successful events, my desire is to speak to your heart, not simply your to-do list. As a recovering perfectionist (and veteran "I'll plan the shower!" volunteer), I know that the best-laid plans and most meticulous event timeline won't mean squat if you walk into your event holding a bucket full of outrageous expectations and unprepared for real life.

Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind} will walk you through the steps involved in planning any type of party and leave you prepared to handle unexpected complications or challenges (without freaking out!). I've included questions to prompt you through each step of the planning process, reminders of possible stumbling blocks and surprises and a checklist to use for each of your fabulous events.

You just might find yourself enjoying your own party.

I'm excited to share with you what I've learned about planning parties – fabulous parties – over the years, and I just know you can do it, too, without losing your mind. It takes a little work, a lot of preparation and a healthy dose of patience (and possibly some deep breathing techniques), but planning a fabulous party without losing your mind is absolutely possible and totally worth it.

Until December 31, use the code INPARTYBOOK for a 20% discount on Plan a Fabulous Party {without losing your mind}. Meanwhile, I have some invitations to send.
:angel:

The 8th Day of (in)RL {in real life} Christmas Giveaways 8 Pillow Covers


On the eighth day of Christmas,
(in)courage gave to me
Eight pillow covers
Seven joyful totes
Six carol trees
Five lovely platters
Four memo boards
Three wooden trays
Two canvas prints
And a hurricane nativity!
Christmas was the first (in)RL—the original in real life.

To celebrate Christmas and our first ever (in)real life conference and global meetup {have you registered yet?} we've got 12 full days of giveaways!

To be entered to win one of these 8 pillow covers just post this as your Facebook status and tag @incourage so we know you did:

I'm loving the 12 days of Christmas Giveaways over at @incourage. Eight pillow covers up for grabs today – and 7 other giveaways still open! http://bit.ly/uSFDTl And if you don't win it, there's always a super discount code anyway!

TODAY'S GIFT DISCOUNT: Today's gift is already discounted 50% off – so really, everyone's a winner!


:angel:

When waiting IS the plan...
Dec 10 2011  Genny Heikka


Being a writer involves a lot of waiting. It is can be weeks–usually months–from the time you submit a manuscript to an editor until the time you hear back. As a not-so-naturally-patient person, this part of the writer's life has taken some getting used to for me.

Recently, when an editor was interested in one of my manuscripts and asked to see the whole thing, I eagerly sent it off.

Three months turned into six... and I wondered if my work was on her desk waiting to be read or if she already decided whether she liked it or not. (No negativity towards editors here; they are busy and, after years of being a writer, I know that time is just part of the process.)

One day, after the six-month mark had passed, I woke up and prayed for an answer to come about my manuscript—that day. I was prepared either way, I promised God. I just needed to know... so I could stop waiting.

I grabbed my Bible and randomly opened it to Isaiah 30:18:

"...For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him."

Hmm. Blessed are those who wait...

I needed the reminder, but I still didn't want to wait anymore. I read on:

"But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." –Isaiah 40:31

Another waiting verse.

Not exactly what I wanted. Stubbornly, I kept reading, looking for something along the lines of, "Your wait will be over soon!"

I came to Isaiah 42:9:

"See the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them."

New things?

I became hopeful. Maybe the editor would call and say she loved my novel. I closed my Bible, went about my day...

and got no answer on my manuscript.

Feeling sorry for myself, I had a little pity party. "I'm sooo tired of waiting," I whined. "I just want to know what the plan is." And, suddenly, as if God was whispering directly to my heart, these words came to me:

I AM the plan. You just need to follow me, and wait.

I didn't hear them out loud, but the words felt like they had been spoken inside of me. Quickly, I grabbed my Bible and re-read Isaiah 42... verse 6:

"I have taken you by the hand and kept you..."

and I realized, here I was complaining about waiting on God, but most of the time, He's not only taken me by the hand, He's been waiting for me.

For me to follow Him with my whole heart, for me to trust him when I don't get answers, for me to set aside my own agenda, for me to rest in the waiting...

for me to rest in Him.

I read through to verse 9 and again was filled with hope: "... new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them."

But this time I wasn't hopeful I'd get the answer I wanted on my manuscript.

Instead, I had a new hope about whatever God had planned. And I realized that waiting is the before that this verse talks about. I was in the before; new things were to come... and I didn't have to know exactly what that meant.

I just needed to trust and wait.

What about you? Have you been waiting for an answer on something in your life?

by Genny at MyCup2Yours

:angel:

Too often, the Christmas story only impinges on the periphery of our lives." ~ Ian Strachan, Today In a Manger

With so much Christmas to celebrate, the danger of the holidays isn't stress. It's complicating it so much, that we miss out on the story of Jesus, showing up in us today.
Christmas can get so complicated.

That's because life doesn't stand still.  Neither do the commercials or the holiday spam.

There's also the added pressure of expectations bubbling underneath.

I'm not talking about the expectations for presents sitting under a tree.

Each of us is waiting for God in some area of uncertainty in our lives.

We've been on pause in our stories, watching for some sign of certainty to move ahead.

But we're also not sure which way is best.

When doubt, fear or worry surround us, especially during the holidays, we wonder:

Can Christmas really change our stories?

How can one day make that big of a difference?

The Other Side of 24 hours
It's the day before Christmas Eve.

It's just another day on the job for the shepherds watching flocks by night.

They have no idea what's waiting for them on the other side of 24 hours.

– They will be the only ones personally invited to see the Messiah, right in the delivery room.

– Angels are actually going to light up the sky and blast a singing telegram from God in surround sound.

– Then, just as quickly, the sky will drop back into dead silence, darkness and stars standing in their places, just as they've always hung in panoramic view.

The shepherds will wonder.

Was that for real?

Did I actually see and hear what I think just happened?

When God sends us a message — just to us and no one else — we will stagger into that fearful and wonderful place the shepherds found themselves 2,000 years ago.

We will find ourselves in the Fields of Faith.

Fields of Faith
God does that.

He drops by to give us some exciting joyful news.

Change.

New beginnings.

He tells us about His plans with a simple announcement. No explanations.

His timing is peculiar too.

God hits us with an inspiration, when we're feeling the most ordinary.

Like the shepherds, we encounter God as we're sitting on the outside, on the fringes of what we think is our best.

Just as we get excited — just as we begin daring to believe what we we're hearing or seeing about God and His invitation — Whoosh!

Everything returns back to everyday sameness.

Darkness.

Circumstances and people around all circling and in holding patterns, just as they've always been.

This is when we must hold onto faith and gather our courage.

Wild Eyes & Open Hearts
C'mon. Let's do it.

Let's say to ourselves — and to each other — just as the shepherds blurted, bright eyed and open hearted to each other:

"Let us go to Bethlehem and see what the Lord has told us about." (Luke 2:15 GWT)

In an instant, God can call out to us in the field of faith and invite us to leave where we are, to go and see.

We may not believe it, but God is calling us out into the open, wooing us to radically leave the routines we've established behind.

We will have to say good bye to some old ways and even some familiar expectations.

But when it's time to point our steps to go and discover what God's told us, it's time for us to move out.

What Stories Need
Whether we're anxious about –

a move,

a new dawn or descending end,

a breaking or beginning of relationships,

nurturing a fragile dream,

or bearing up under unexpected trials,

– we each have one story to live and we want so much to get it right.

God uses these tender places to call out to us.

Stop looking for the black and white.

Look for Jesus.

He can change your story – the story of Christ in you.

What at we need to choose — what all our stories need — is faith to believe God is (really) with us.

*  Will we fall back on the routines of the holidays to get us through this month?

*  Or will we journey to "Bethlehem" — just like the shepherds who left their fields — to unwrap Jesus new this year?

As you think and savor this month of Christmas, be attentive for what God has in store for you.

Slow down.

Stop.

Leave.

Or go.

No matter how brief the encounter or how few the words.

He said it. And you heard it.

Let us go and discover what the Lord has for each of us — unwrapping Christmas — new this year.



~~~~~

"This mystery has been kept in the dark for a long time,
but now it's out in the open...
The mystery in a nutshell is just this: Christ is in you."
~ Colossians 1:27 (The Message)

~~~~~

How is God calling you to leave, go or see?


How are you unwrapping Jesus this year?

Pull up a chair.  I'd love to hear your thoughts. Click here to comment.


:angel:

The Best Part
Dec 10, 2011   Jennifer


We have made our gift list and we have been busy shopping. Some gifts are already carefully wrapped and waiting under the tree. We spend weeks preparing and hoping that we can find that perfect gift for each person on our list.

Then we worry.

We may worry we haven't gotten enough. We may worry that we have not found the right gift. We may wish we were able to buy more than we did. It is easy to get wrapped up in these thoughts, I know I do.

I also know when I let these worries fill my head, I am missing the best part of Christmas.

The best part of Christmas. You know... that perfect Christmas gift. The one that fits on every list. The gift is that it is the perfect size. The gift that is the perfect style. The one that will not be out of date in a few months. The gift that will not expire. The one, as hard as it is to understand, is custom fit for each and every one of us.

The gift that is everything we need.

The greatest gift given to the world. The gift of love, hope, joy and peace. God loved us so much He gave us the gift of His son. The gift of Jesus.

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! 2 Corinthians 9:15

The wonderful thing about this special gift... it is to be shared with the world! This gift is a gift that was given to us to share. What is more joyful than being able to share gifts we are given? There is such a joy in giving. There is a privilege in sharing.

It is more blessed to give than to receive. Acts20:35



We can each share this special gift in our own unique ways. We can reach out to others. We can extend the love and grace of God.

We can help someone who is going through a difficult time with encouragement and offer them hope. We can visit a neighbor who we know is spending the holidays alone and bring them joy. We can share the word of God. We can cook for a family that is struggling to make ends meet and show them love. We can listen when someone just needs to talk and share that peace. We can pray.

Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.
Luke 6:38

What are more unique ways we can share His indescribable gift with others this season? We would love to hear!

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

:angel:

 Sunday Scripture

Dec 11, 2011  incourage

In the sixth month, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be.

But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end."

"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?"

The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month.

For nothing is impossible with God."
"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her.

~Luke 1:26-38.
:angel:

Unfolding Faith
Dec 12, 2011 12:20 am | Kristen Strong


"Our job is not to mold our kids but to unfold them." Jon Courson

I lean against the window and stare into sapphire winter skies. Days have passed since the night I heard those life-changing words. Still, I can't get the doctor's point blank statement out of my head,

"If she'd landed just a bit harder, she'd be in a wheelchair or dead."

Heavens, what can unfold in no time at all. This proved true the night a gymnastics accident left our girl's head throbbing and her sobbing scared over being "numb and tingley." The accident didn't look scary; she didn't fall awkwardly or in any way that made me suck in wind or jump out of my chair. But, we don't mess around with numb and tingley. So after the ER trip, x-rays and a CT scan, we discover the critical bone -the odontoid – that protects her spinal chord is malformed. This bone protrudes from the second vertebrae, and the malformation means part of her spine is not as protected as it should be. Without this extra protection, any jarring of the neck can cause numbness. Or worse.

This leaves us numb and jarred into a new reality. That night, we fall asleep clinging to gratitude,

"Thank you, God, for using this accident to bring hidden truth to light."

"Thank you, God, for protecting this always-in-motion girl in every tumble and fall."

So, we add scary words like neurosurgeon to our vocabulary while taking gymnastics out. Losing gymnastics is a hard thing for our active girl to accept, this saying goodbye to a love and a dream. And to be honest, there are hard things for this mama to accept, too.

When the slightest fall or wrong move could be catastrophic, how will our new normal unfold? And how do I embrace the unfolding when it looks different than I imagined?

My friend Alli comes over to pray with me, and she tells me she knows this struggle. Her son has Aspergers, a form of autism. She holds her coffee cup and my eyes saying,

"This is the blessing in the ordeal, Kristen. In our humanness as parents, we naturally want to steer our children's interests towards our own. With news like this, we get an unmistakable barrier to our plans. For my son and your daughter, options are limited. And this fact forces us to get out of the way as God's plans and interests make themselves known."

Yes: Life's limitations are His invitation to change our expectations.

Life's limitations unfold God's intentions.



Regardless of the winds tomorrow's weather brings, God's character remains. In His grace, God protects our girl today as much as He did last month and last year. Our new normal shows what has been true all along: God holds and unfolds.

Still, saying goodbye to my own expectations hurts.

Mary knew all about that. Gabriel told her she'd give birth to the Son of the Most High, the One who would sit on the throne of His father King David. Knowing this, did she not picture Him wearing fine robes and crowns? Did she not smile at the thought of Him being revered and respected– right along with His earthly parents? Oh, she had plans for Him alright. But with time, she had to release those plans. God willed Jesus to be everything Gabriel promised, but it unfolded in a way Mary couldn't imagine.

God wills my daughter to be everything He promises, and it is my job to unfold His purpose for her. When I accept this truth, my faith unfolds. In the ordinary and the ordeal, I find peace by unfolding my hands and allowing my daughter to unfold in His.

I smile out the window. The crazy Colorado winds pick up, but my soul stills. I remember our girl's name is no accident. She is Faith, our unfolding Faith.

How has life's limitations unfolded God's intentions for you or your children?

By Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies
:angel:


I Want to See!
Dec 12, 2011  | Adelle Gabrielson


... As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus, was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Jesus stopped and said, "Call him."

So they called to the blind man, "Cheer up! On your feet! He's calling you." Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.

"What do you want me to do for you?" Jesus asked him.

The blind man said, "Rabbi, I want to see."

Mark 10:46-51 (NIV)

As if He didn't know.
He is Jesus, the Son of God, after all.

Don't you think He knew exactly what Bartimaeus wanted? So desperately wanted? He didn't offer, He waited. He let Bartimaeus do the asking.

Can you hear the urgency is his shouts? "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

Bartimaeus knew. This was his chance – right here, right now – to be healed. To be free. To be liberated from his disability.

"Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!"

He wasn't afraid to ask. He wasn't embarrassed to cry out, to make a scene, to beg. He knew that there was only one possible cure.

The cure was Jesus.

He threw off his cloak, and he jumped to his feet. He was blind – but he didn't hesitate, he didn't walk carefully, or timidly. He jumped at his chance.

So often we bear our failures like a garment. A cloak of shame and burden we wrap around ourselves.

Afraid to ask. Afraid to make a scene. Afraid to reach for that one, perfect cure.

The cure is Jesus.

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

I throw off the burden of my sin, my failures. I throw off the cloak of shame for all the times I yelled when I shouldn't have, when I let them down. When I made the wrong choice. When I wasn't the support I should have been.

When I was selfish. Unkind. Judgmental.

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

Jump at the chance for healing and forgiveness – don't walk, run. Throw off your burden, and go.

"Go," said Jesus, "your faith has healed you." Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

Bartimaeus, healed, knew what he needed to do. He didn't run home, he followed. He stayed with the One who healed.

Go and do the same, friends, go and do the same.

God's love is not wearied by our sins and is relentless in its determination that we be cured at whatever cost to us or Him. ~ C. S. Lewis

Read more at www.AdelleGabrielson.com.
:angel:


Ordinary Christmas
Dec 12, 2011  | FFH




It was snowing in Indiana on November 10th, the night that we first played some of our new Christmas music to a concert audience. Since then, most of our shows have been about Christmas.   We like playing these songs so much; I wish we had three months to enjoy them instead of just one!  In the few moments during the concerts where we slow the music down and share our thoughts about The Advent and the songs surrounding it, we've been focusing on the ordinary aspect of Christmas.  Sort of sounds like an oxymoron doesn't it?  Christmas is anything but ordinary, right?

Jesus' birth was altogether earth shattering, but what we often forget is that this eternity-changing event happened in the most ordinary of settings on the most ordinary of nights.  Jesus was born in an ordinary town, to an ordinary girl, in a very ordinary place.  His first worshipers were ordinary country folks and his nursery mates were ordinary farm animals.  It was all so ordinary that no one, no one "important" that is, even knew what was going on.

King Jesus didn't come to our world as we might expect a king to come, with lots of pomp and circumstance.  There was no processional, no crowning, no celebration.   The Children  of Israel, who had for so long waited expectantly for their Messiah, were not looking for the King in Bethlehem, or in the cattle stall.   They were waiting for a more triumphant entry.   And in their disillusion they missed it.

We can hardly blame the Israelites.  We want King Jesus to come into our world in the same way they wanted Him to enter theirs, with power and might.  We want Him to come into our mess and hurt and brokenness and turn the tables over with brute force.  And sometimes He does.  And once or twice in our lives we might get to see it happen.  But most times, most days, King Jesus comes into our world in the ordinary things of life, while we are doing ordinary things with ordinary people.

He comes in the kind words of a friend, or the bedtime cuddle with our kids.  He enters our world as we watch autumn leaves cover the ground or hear the sweet tune of a familiar song.  And sometimes He comes so subtly that we don't even know what He's done until long after, and only when we look back do we see His hand in all of it.

The Advent of Jesus into our lives is all around us.  He is always coming, always entering our world, but we've forgotten how to recognize it.   We forget to look in the manger, the most unlikely place.

Many of us have gotten so far away from Bethlehem that we don't know how to get back.  But the poor still know how, they are always close to Jesus cause they always need Him.  Old people know how, they've been around long enough to realize that all of our efforts end up leaving us tired and unfulfilled, so they've made their way back to Bethlehem long ago.  Kids know how too, they're too young to have been convinced that they need to leave the simple town for a more extraordinary life.  They're just fine with an ordinary little bedroom on an ordinary little street.   It's their parents that strive for "more".

Our family is going to try to celebrate the Advent this year by being still enough, long enough, to see King Jesus as He enters and inhabits our ordinary little world. It won't be easy because we suffer from materialism and busyness and anxiety like everyone else.  But it's worth the effort.    May you be blessed in the ordinary as well.

Peace and rest,

Jeromy and Jennifer Deibler

****

:angel:

Shine
Dec 13, 2011 | Angela Nazworth


Too often, I am dull ... not in personality ... not in appearance. I am dull in spirit.

When self doubt ties my tongue, I am dull. When perfectionism weights my joy, I am dull. When anger veils kindness, I am dull. When fear prevents me from trying, I am dull.

Dull may be part of my natural bent, but it is not a part of my calling. As a follower of Christ, I am required to be a light. I am called to shine.

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven."

The Christmas season brings with it many opportunities to shine radiant with the Good News flowing fresh in my heart. This time of year can also bring distractions that make it far too easy to hide my light. Sometimes ... and shamefully so, the one who falls in the center of my thoughts during the holidays is ... me. My mind's camera lens zooms in on my feelings ... my desires ... my needs (real or perceived) ... and suddenly, I am dull.

Do you ever feel as if the light you are to shine burns dull? What burns you out? What reignites you?

This Christmas and all throughout the year, I want to toss away that basket that dulls my light ... and I want to shine ... to gleam bright and bold for the glory of my King.

:angel:

The Messy Girl and her Messiah
Dec 15, 2011 Lysa




I sat down recently to spend a few minutes reading my Bible and decided to read the Christmas story in Mark. I couldn't remember ever reading the Christmas story in that gospel, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

Well, it appears Mark believes in cutting to the chase.

There's no mention of a manger. No Mary and Joseph. No baby Jesus. No bright star or angels or heavenly hosts. No silent night. No holy night.

As a matter of fact, if Mark was the only gospel where Jesus' entrance to this world was mentioned, Christmas would look vastly different.

There would be no gifts.

There would be no Linus delivering the stellar line in the Charlie Brown Christmas special.

There would be no lights shining so brightly.

There would be a wild looking man named John the Baptist dressed in leather and camel hair, preparing the way for Jesus by preaching one message. A message we don't typically hear at Christmas.

A message that's rough around the edges and little hard to swallow alongside my sausage balls and cheese blintzes.

Repentance.

That one word sums up the beginnings of the Christ story according to Mark.

"And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins..." (Mark 1: 4-5).

This is about the place in the sermon where I start hoping some people I know are really paying attention. I climb up on my mental high horse and think, "Thank you Lord for this message all these people need to hear- because you know how they act. You know how selfish they are. Whew. And you know so and so just needs a full out repentance revival. Mercy!"

It's a that point, Jesus whispers to me. It's a message to you and you alone. You need this message, Lysa. I am calling you to repent. This is the way you need to prepare for Christmas in your heart this year.

"I will send a messenger ahead of you, who will prepare the way- a voice of one calling in the desert, 'Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him' " (Mark 1:2-3).

The girl who can be such a mess.

Hears the messenger calling for repentance.

So, she makes Christmas not the same old story but a message meant for her heart.

And she whispers once again, "I'm sorry Jesus. Forgive me. Heal me. Restore me. Those little places I excuse. Those same old things that trip me up. The pride that keeps me thinking it's someone else's fault. The busyness that makes me forget to stop and consider my ways- my thoughts- my actions. You, Messiah are the best match for my mess."

I doubt this will ever be the most popular version of the Christmas story but for me this year, it's perfect.

By Lysa TerKeurst
:angel:


Because what we're really getting ready for is Love
Ann Voskamp


Preparing for the holidays is primarily a preparing of the heart.

Because what comes down is love and the way to receive love isn't to wrap anything up — but to unwrap your heart.


This will take time.

This will take waiting.

I must make space for these.

Why don't I make space just for the heart unwrapping?

Advent — this is the season of preparing that prepares us for any season of life — because we are preparing our lives for Christ to enter in — which prepares for us the life without end.

Is that the ultimate purpose of this life — the preparing for the next life?

Is this why Christmas, Advent, unlike any other time of year, glimmers with a glimpse of heaven — because it's the time of year we're fulfilling our purpose, preparing for Christ and His coming again? The Christmas tree's been lit for weeks, a beacon, a preparing, an anticipation. Why is it easier to make Christmas cookies than to make our hearts ready for Christ?

Is getting ready for Christmas as simple and difficult as simply sitting stilled before the cradle of Christ?

And yet.

Love came down and "He came to his own people, and his own people did not receive him."

(John 1:11)

Love came down – and his own people did not recognize Him.

Love came down — and His own people did not want what He offered.

The Messiah came down and He wasn't received as the Messiah — and Love comes down down and who receives all the moments as His love?



How in the world am I receiving Christ this Advent?


During Advent, the season of waiting for the coming, the Christ-people, they meet whatever comes with this brazen belief that it is Love that Comes Down.

Love comes down to His own people — and His own people are the ones who do receive the unexpected and unlikely as His love.

The infant as infinite God.

The Babe as bondage-breaker.

The stump as new shoot, the ugly as beautiful, the weak as strong.

Our loving God always comes to us wrapped in the unlikely.

We may not know the outcome but we tenaciously believe that in Him we overcome — because Love comes down.

Is that how we get ready for Christmas? By readying the heart to receive the gift of every moment — no matter what the moment unexpectedly holds — as a gift of His love?

We're ready for Christmas, not when we have all the gifts, but when we are ready for Christ — when we're ready to give all of ourselves to Christ.

At the end of the day, the carols hardly play, and yet I hear them.

I light the candles at the hearth.

And I can feel how it comes.

The warmth and the flame and this slow unwrapping of everything bound...

:angel:

My Real Family Christmas Letter

Dec 16,  Jennifer Schmidt




In the next few weeks, Christmas cards and letters from friends far and near will descend on our mailbox. Memories will resurface from a lifetime ago. Unfamiliar faces will appear in pictures, as marriages have dissolved and new covenants established. Successes, trips, achievements and well wishes will be touted, and all along, I'll wonder, "How are they really doing?"

It's been years since I have sent out family Christmas letters. In fact, 50 copies of our 2005 family picture still line the bottom of my desk screaming, "You are the Queen of Best Intentions." In a new season of life, I will re-establish that reciprocal "exchange of cards" tradition, with the desire of getting re-added to the list of the numerous families who have given up on me, but also in hopes of sending a card that would get to the heart of the matter.

Here's my real family Christmas letter.

Dear friends and family,

I can't believe I am wishing you all a Merry Christmas. Wasn't it just yesterday that the Lord graciously ushered in 2011? I need to just make it through one more week and then I can slow down, pause and truly reflect on all that He has done in our lives this year.

We've had a host of new experiences for our family, all divinely appointed, but some filled with heartbreaking challenges. The older I get, the more intimately I am aware of my need for a Savior.

Our five children still fill the majority of my time, although they are no longer the stair step toddlers I just birthed. Our three little boys are practically grown men, and attempting to feed them creates challenges of their own. Our eldest turned eighteen last week (with our youngest just eight), and it aroused such a myriad of emotional mommy moments. Do you remember when you were 18? So much potential, so many admirable leadership qualities, and yet 18 year olds truly believe they are "so wise in their own eyes."

As I mother, I continue to grow and learn more about myself than I care to know. Often though, I realize I am just a mess – a mess that is fully loved and accepted by a Savior who calls me to this most sacred occupation. My desire is to just love my children like God loves me, and continually pursue their heart. I want no regrets, yet often I am just exhausted. One child said to me, "Mom, you just care too much. Other parents just don't really ask these kinds of questions."

As we engaged in this heart to heart dialogue surrounding tough issues, I shared that as I stand before the Lord, if He states that my worst mistake was caring too much about the core character and heart attitude of our children, then I'll take it, but I doubt it will happen. Child rearing calls for such a delicate balance -  that giving of freedom, while nurturing, correcting and discipling. Even with our 12 year old daughter, I pray incessantly that the Lord will reveal to her who she is in Christ. She is a dream child – obedient, hard working, responsible. She even cleans and organizes without being asked, yet I fear there's a tendency towards self induced perfectionism. I want her to know His freedom. My desire is for her to understand the precious, face of grace, and the full life of abundance that He offers. But, I'm sorry,  enough about the kids.

Two years ago today, our family struggled with a year long period of unemployment that I coined our God Watch. Now we are so grateful for a new job that my husband loves, and doubly blessed as I attempt to navigate the waters of a blog turned into a work at home business. While I am fortunate to work doing something I love: encouraging women with creative, money saving ideas for their home, sharing free gifts like my Conversation Starters and Christmas Coupon Book,  I still struggle to balance  meal time mountain, housework, homeschooling, and time with my husband, not to mention cultivating friendships. Sometimes I feel as if I am not doing any of them well, but am grateful for people in my life who keep me rooted. As my hubby works long hours and I do the same, our date nights have been far between. Our marriage is solid and our communication is good, but we know that we cannot forsake prioritizing our time together, which we have done too much of this year. I marvel at his unconditional love for me. He treasures me and doesn't even care that I have gained over ten pounds this year and admittedly,  does not want to work out (but I am getting there.)

This past July, a sandwich competition afforded our family a trip of a lifetime. For a long time, our prayer has been that our kids would experience firsthand the kind of poverty that only occurs through a third world environment. So not only did the oldest four children take their first ever plane ride, but they took it to Guatemala, where our family worked in an orphanage and surrounding countryside. Their eyes were opened to the toiling work of the native villagers, and I prayed for softening of hearts. It happened, but I guess I don't know what I expected after that week, maybe that our children would come back, sell all their worldly possessions, commit their lives to full time ministry and never bicker again?

Well, that didn't happen. Nope, not even one of those things occurred, but His plan is bigger than ours, and I know the seeds planted in the country village side of Guatemala will come to fruition in His timing.

Well, that kind of sums up our 2011 in nutshell. Besides the new batch of puppies, football, basketball, golf, praise team, blogging, extended family time, and the continual bedlam moments that our family shares, it's been quite uneventful.

So as I pause, amidst my "uneventful" bedlam moments,  what I really want to remember is Christ in the every day wonder of this Christmas season.

I remember Him when precious prayers stir my heart from the innocence of our youngest.  I remember Him when I'm folding laundry and gratitude stirs for the dryer that eased my work load. I remember Him as I stub my toe, lose my patience, and recall this agony as nothing.

I remember Him for the sacrifice of what this season cost.

Merry Christmas, from our home to yours,

Jen Schmidt (just a messy Child of God trying to balance beauty and bedlam in her chaotic world)
:angel: :angel:


Do You Have Something For Me?
Jennifer Watson


Years ago I went to the park with my little girls armed with plenty of snacks, lunch, and drinks. Wet wipes for dirty, chubby fingers and anything that they would need in the span of a few hours. A little girl all by herself made her way to our picnic table, beautiful and dirty with tattered clothes and an empty belly.

Instead of sitting next to my girls, she placed her little body right next to mine. Her blue eyes pierced through me as she said, "Do you have something for me?"

In a place scattered with Moms, she came to me asking one thing and hoping that I would have it.

"Do you have something for me?"

I fed her and gave her extra. I loved her for what seemed like minutes as I scanned the park wondering if anyone was missing her.

"Whom does she belong to?" Echoed in my over-protective mothers heart.

I watched her eat and enjoyed her closeness until a teenage dad placed her on the back of his bike and rode off with her. I watched her with an ache in my heart and an answer.

"She belongs to me." God whispered.

I haven't thought about her in years, blonde ringlets and adorable, dirty face, eyes that sparkled with questions, her need for closeness, her need for something to sustain.

Yet I feel the world asking, looking to us with empty eyes and hearts...do you have something for me? And I weep as I think how the enemy uses our self-centeredness as his most useful tool when we have the answer. When the world looks to us with starving hearts and questions wondering if they are loved and if they belong will we be too busy, to self-absorbed to answer?

Beautiful, Stained Soul,

Just in case you have showed up here wondering...you belong to God. He has something for you, something that will sustain your troubled heart. He wrapped Himself up in death to purchase your pardon. It's a gift, but you have to receive it and open your heart to Him and invite Jesus in.

Beautiful, Distracted Heart,

It's not about you, but you have forgotten that. It's not about us. We are unsatisfied and unfulfilled because our eyes point to ourselves. God help us to wake up and take our eyes off ourselves long enough to answer...Yes, we have something for you! Yes, you belong.

In a world filled with distractions, we must believe that we are never a distraction to our Maker. But, He longs to use us in ways we've never dreamed possible. God longs to turn a light on in our hearts and shift our focus off of ourselves towards Him. Then His love causes our focus outward to those with stained hearts who need to know the truth.

The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.' (Matt 25:40)

:angel:

The year of living dangerously
Dec 17, 2011  Robin Dance


Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
~ Helen Keller



She's looking me dead in the eyes when she speaks, a gaze so deeply penetrating its intensity makes me want to look away...but I can't.

"God is getting ready to do a work in you not possible when you're living in your comfort zone," she tells me when I confide my secret.  And to my concerns she says, "And He's going to meet your husband and turn him inside out when he's alone and questioning what in the world he's doing."

She speaks with such conviction and great assurance, I want to believe her.  I do believe her.

My husband and I have learned it's not in the easy times we've grown spiritually, it's during those difficult seasons of struggle...
...when we want to go back to "Egypt," to the familiar; not because we liked it but because we knew what to expect.

At mid-life, an adventure has been given to us, a door flung off the hinges, and our only response is to step into the unknown.
My husband has a new job; it begins with a 16-month assignment in Germany.

Somehow typing those words makes it more real.

I'm writing weeks before this is published; and we've known this secret was a possibility for quite a while before that.  I've been a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding and making one hot mess keeping this inside so long!

Logistics are still uncertain; how much time I'll spend with him and what portion of the year our children will join us are the biggest considerations.  But this I know:

God has lavishly gifted us with opportunity and we're humbled and grateful.

For the past 20 years or so, my husband has worked for a paper manufacturer; a dying industry.  His company was in bankruptcy for over four years, and thankfully through all the layoffs he's at least kept his job.  But that, coupled with working for a company with limited resources and sensing it wouldn't be around at the end of his career, has given him reason to keep his eyes open for something else.  As America has experienced the last 5-10 years, "something else" is elusive.  He's sent out dozens and dozens of resumes, interviewed a place or two, but mostly it's been...disheartening.  Defeating at times.

We've struggled with that. Friends have gone months–years–without jobs!  So how dare we complain, even if it's just to each other!  Heap guilt on top of frustration.

But the truth is, a man's esteem is tightly interlaced with his job; if his work life is suffering, he is suffering. Regardless of our desire to fix our eyes on Christ, to be grateful for a job, a paycheck and material provision, it has been hard.  Also factor in we've been looking for a church home for a year (and without a pastor 4 1/2 years prior to that in our old church) and the difficulty in developing deep relationships with friends since moving to Tennessee eight years ago...

it's been a desert season.
Yes, we've had provision; of course there are countless reasons to be thankful...

But our reality has still been peppered with void, loss, conflict, disappointment and discouragement.
When he got the job offer, I cried.  I don't think I've ever been happier for my husband.

This offer is about more than a job, I see it as a Very Kind Gift; it's symbolic of greater things.  At least in my head.

And so, after 24 years of marriage, we're about to begin a new adventure.

I'm so thankful to be able to share our news with our (in)courage community, a praying community.


:) :angel:

A Sunday Scripture
Dec 18, 2011  Deidra




For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

~Isaiah 9:6, NIV

Looking to make space for slow and easy on a Sunday morning? Slip on over to this sweet community and settle in with a photo and just a few, quiet words of blessing. It would be a joy to have you join us. To clear some space for grace and peace, and to begin Sundays together. Click the button below to join the community, to rest in the hush, and to link up a quiet blessing of your own...


Sweet and beautiful blessings to you as we quietly anticipate the miracle of God made flesh.

~Deidra
:angel:


The Lesson
Dec 17, 2011 Robin Dance


The manner of giving is worth more than the gift.
~ Pierre Corneille, Le Menteur



Most memories are merely past recollection, but a rare few are ~

heart branders...

soul-shapers...

the living of which interminably alters the future.

I was just 12 years old when Christmas forever changed for me and my younger sisters:  our mother and father decided to teach us a lesson.
It started as every other Christmas had begun, with a lengthy wish list; we would likely receive everything we wanted.  Certainly, my parents instilled a servant's heart in each of us, but we were children of privilege.  Aware, not arrogant.

We'd count and shake our gifts repeatedly in the days that lead to Christmas.  Their size and shape stirred imagination, speculation and temptation–would anyone notice if we peeled back the tape the teensiest of bits?  The threat of Santa's telescopic eyes was enough to keep us honest.  And Mama's ire.

Anticipation and excitement awakened us when hours were still wee, and becoming human alarm clocks we jumped on Mama's and Daddy's bed–how could they STILL be sleeping?!  Groggily they followed us into our family room, where each of my three sisters and I quickly gathered our stash around us.  The floor was carpeted in Christmas "snow"–shimmery wrappings and ribbons and bows–and with great restraint we took turns opening our gifts from each relative before moving on to the next.

Open – smile and pose for a picture with each present – repeat.  My parents, brilliant, figured out how to make each moment last as long as humanly possible.

Our tradition including lining up by the phone to call and thank each relative.  This time my father stopped us...

the first indication something was different.
Daddy's gaze fell on each of us as he began, "You girls sure got some thoughtful gifts this year.  Do you think you can chose your favorite, the one you're most excited about?"

My sisters and I were giggles and laughter, and though Mama had to help my three-year-old baby sister, I knew exactly what I wanted to choose:  my Sony Walkman cassette player! It was the coolest thing I had ever received, and something about it made me feel older, like a teenager.

Daddy then asked us to set them on the hearth by Mama, and an uneasiness began to set in as he continued talking.  He reminded us how richly we were blessed as he began to read from Scripture, "...from everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked."

Where was the Christmas story we were accustomed to hearing?  The shepherds, the wise men, baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling?! Butterflies invaded my stomach, and as I looked at my sisters I realized they didn't know where this was going yet.  I hoped I was wrong.

Daddy started talking about children, other children, who would receive nothing for Christmas.  Not the ones we heard about through Operation Christmas Child or starving in Third World countries...but children who lived in our hometown.

I can still see Daddy's hand clutching Mama's, fingers tangled in a ball.  Whatever was coming next they were united in, and I think they needed each other's strength to follow through.

"Your gifts, your favorite gifts, are an offering," he explained, "and they're going to be placed by God's leading in the hands of another child who wants them and will love them just as much as you do...."  He gently clarified that these gifts were not ours and would be used to convey an important message.
It would be years before I would fully understand the "important message" was mostly for me and my sisters.
Tears flooded our eyes and and questions spilled in buckets.  This wasn't fair!  We were in disbelief.  Surely our parents would change their minds and let us give away our old toys or at least our second favorite gift.  Or maybe it was all a joke.  Or a child's nightmare from which I'd awaken.

Straws I grasped, all out of reach.

I felt the weight of their anguish as my younger sisters awaited my response.  Never had my role as Big Sister demanded more of me and I knew they would follow my lead.  Mama knew exactly what to do to calm our tears–she began praying...over us, over the toys we were about to give away, over the children who would receive them.  I can still hear her satin voice, her soothing words.  This was no act of manipulation or coercion, Mama's was a prayer of worship, and God's presence and peace invaded our hearts.

I loosened an ironclad grip on my right to entitlement, to middle class affluence, and walked over to the hearth to place my walkman by the fire.  One by one, my sisters did the same.

Obedience was our only choice, really, but it would take years for my anger and resentment to melt into understanding.

But isn't that how the best lessons are learned–well taught, hard-fought and then written on our heart?
Like a real Santa, Daddy collected our gift-sacrifices in a sack and delivered them to a shelter on Christmas day.  We still were left with a pile of gifts but our favorites soon to be re-gifted.

Three years later I would accompany him for the first time, something we all were allowed to do the year we turned 15.  By this age, each of us actually looked forward to the giving.

But it took years to fully understand our tradition.

Years of dialoguing with the Lord to decide which gift was truly my favorite.

Years before I saw this as a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate the love of Christ instead of painful sacrifice.

Years before I understood the value of our offering; which increased my appreciation for the unimaginable cost to God for loving me so much he gave His only Son...  Gave...His...ONLY...Son. To me.
Twenty years later, this has become one of our most revered traditions of the Christmas season, one which I continue with my own son.  And though some might not understand or agree with my parents choices, for me and my sisters it was one of the most meaningful, powerful lessons in our lives.

To God be the glory for allowing me an earthly father who was willing to teach his daughters lessons of eternal value.

* * * * * * * *

My in-laws shared Amanda's story with us last Christmas, and I've wanted to write it down to share with others ever since!  This is one of the most beautiful family legacies I've ever heard..I'm not sure I would have had the fortitude to teach this lesson to my young children had we thought of it back then (maybe I should include it in my parenting series???). With gracious thanks to her for entrusting me with its telling, and I hope it means as much to you as it does to me.


With love to you and warm wishes for a joyful Christmas! xo

~ Robin, author of PENSIEVE
:angel: ;)

Your House is Only as Big as Your Hospitality
Dec 19, 2011  Lisa-Jo




I am a reluctant renter.

Have been for years.

Our house is small, it has faux bricks that constantly fall off the kitchen walls and carpets that, well, let's just say we have three kids under the age of six and leave the rest up to your imagination.

For years my small house has stunted my hospitality.

I've always loved to have friends over. I'm not awesome with a glue gun and I do not have any real furniture arranging mojo. But I'm generally comfortable in my own skin. And I love lingering over the last of the hot chocolate with friends and leaving the dishes for later.

Give me girlfriends, church friends, grand parents, aunts, uncles or cousins – I love to have them in my space.

But since my space has shrunk the last few years it turns out my hospitality has shrunk right along with it. I didn't realize quite how much until our South African cousins surprised us with the news they were going to be coming through the DC area and were so excited to come and visit – and hopefully stay – with us.

I was elated for 5 minutes before the wave of embarrassed disappointment hit.

The teeny living room, two bedrooms and one bathroom all flashed through my mind. Then there was the not-so-small matter that we only have 4 dining room chairs and no guest bedroom. An inflatable mattress and sofa pillows were the best we had to offer over night guests.

Five of them and five of us in our house seemed like a recipe for hostess hyperventilation. So I was relieved when they said they'd be happy to stay at a hotel. And astonished when my husband emailed them back and insisted they stay with us.

I was incredulous. I pointed out the obvious. Our. House. Is. Small.

Turned out, however, Peter wasn't limited by the size of our house. Because he had big hospitality in mind.

He said we should give them our master bedroom and we'd take the inflatable mattress in the playroom, even if it was only for a night. The kids could camp out on mattresses and sofa cushions in the living room. He was determined that our homesick boys would get a full dose of family. And that meant sleepovers included.

We made dinner a taco fiesta buffet and everyone ate anywhere they were comfy. We put our best sheets on the bed and fluffed up our favorite pillows for them. The boys rolled out their blankets and stuffed toys and plotted games and snacks and stories.

In the four years we've lived here our house has never felt as big as it did the week that the Vercueils visited us.

I learned that big hospitality has nothing to do with the size of your house.


Big hospitality is a matter of the heart and not the architecture.

Once I let go of the obsession with smallness, I was able to embrace the fun of squeezing as much big hospitality as we could manage into a week instead of worrying how it would fit into our four walls.

Maybe you're like me. Maybe this holiday season has you hyperventilating at the thought of your house being exposed for all to see how small or cramped or imperfect it is.

May I suggest a mental shift? If you see your house as big and welcoming as you feel about the people you're having over, so will everyone who walks through its doors.

The size of your house, my friends, is entirely in your own hands.

By Lisa-Jo, Gypsy Mama, community manager of (in)courage and not-so-reluctant renter.
:angel:

The Heart Of Christmas {Matthew West Giveaway}
Dec 19, 2011  Jennifer




Oh how I love music. I love to have music in our home. I love to have music in the car. I love to have music in my studio. I like to listen to music with meaning and music that speaks to my soul while I work. It really does change the entire art experience for me. The messages, the meaning, the beat... they all speak to me.

It is like inspiration whispering right into my heart. It makes me happy.

And Christmas music... Christmas music is my favorite! Really, it is. Each year I can not wait to bring out all my Christmas music. (Just ask my husband.) I have even been known to break a few out during the year. Yep, that's me... Christmas music year round. At least a little bit here and there.

I especially enjoy the original, unique songs on Christmas albums. I find many of them are so beautiful and very fitting year round, not only at Christmas time. It is a wonderful way to keep the spirit of this season close to my heart all year long. I love music with a positive message. Music that makes you feel joyful just by listening to it. Music that has the power to change you. With his very first Christmas album, The Heart of Christmas, Matthew West does just that.

It is beautiful and inspiring. Matthew really does capture the heart of Christmas and you can't help but feel it too. He is an amazing songwriter and this album has many fantastic original songs! He has such a great way of sharing the spirit of Christmas. I love how the songs take you through a journey. Starting with the time approaching Christmas through the day after Christmas. It tells a beautiful Christmas story.




The album starts with a song that each of us, no matter our age, can understand. The anticipation for Christmas to finally come! We are reminded of the true meaning of Christmas and the reason we celebrate. The heart of Christmas. Another song paints a picture of seeing Christmas through Jesus' point of view. How He left heaven for us.

The album continues with a touching song of a child's last Christmas. We are also reminded to share Christmas with others, to give Christmas away. The last song is one of my favorites, The Day After Christmas. Reminding us that after Christmas day and all the excitement is over, the light of the world is still here. I think that is such a powerful and beautiful message.

These original songs are surrounded by classic favorites. Matthew West's joy for Christmas and love of Christ shines throughout this album. It is a wonderful addition to my Christmas music collection! It has kept a song in my heart since I started listening to it. It really is a new favorite of mine. An album that is all about the true meaning of this wonderful season and is so beautiful to listen to... how could it not be a favorite?!

*****

Matthew West is giving away 5 copies of Matthew West The Heart of Christmas to 5 lucky readers! To enter for your chance to win a copy of this amazing Christmas album, just leave a comment sharing what the heart of Christmas means to your family.
:angel:

This House Still Believes
Dec 20, 2011  Kristen Welch


I tucked tiny trinkets deep into the stockings and checked my hubby's progress on putting the bike together. I couldn't believe it was finally Christmas Eve! We grew up with our parents playing the role of Santa and Mrs. Claus and we chose to carry on the tradition. So we were hidden in our bedroom, knee-deep in last-minute holiday happenings.

It was nearly midnight and I was so tired. The busy days leading up to this moment had worn me out. I double-checked to make sure the kids were asleep and carefully laid out the bulging stockings. Then, I quietly nibbled on Santa's goodies. I even gnawed a carrot for Rudolph. Being Santa was hard work!



I turned around to hurry my hubby along but instead found my daughter (who would turn ten two weeks after Christmas) standing there watching me.

Um. That's not supposed to happen.

I racked my brain and tried to remember what I learned in Santa School and all I could come up with was I never went to Santa School! I was so busted.

She faked a yawn, and I just motioned to her room. Because that's what you do when you're shocked and speechless.

Once she was up the stairs, I ran into my bedroom and whisper-screamed: "SHE KNOWS! SHE KNOWS!"

And then I tried not to fall apart.

When she knocked on our door five minutes later, I let my hubby answer it. I'm brave like that.

She asked. He told her everything. Questions led to answers and very early Christmas morning, she knew the secret happenings of Santa. I bit back tears. So did she.

Christmas still happened. She held her new secret close to her heart and gave me a knowing smile throughout the day. She was excited to start the new chapter. But a sadness I couldn't explain still clung to me.

It's not the Santa-myth I missed. It was her believing. It was proof she was growing up.

I found contentment in knowing she believed in Jesus. It's really about all Him. He's not pretend or make-believe.

Days after Christmas, I wrote her a letter about how we are called to believe in things we can't see.

It's good to believe in things we can see. It's better to believe in things we can't see but know are real: our dreams, faith, hope. Jesus.

She put her letter in her special box.

And in the two years since, I have refocused my efforts to make Christmas about Jesus. We still add a dash of Santa to the fun, but you can find him kneeling at the Nativity, worshiping Jesus with the rest of us.

Because I realized the Santa fun will fade, but this house will always believe.

Hebrews 11:1-3 Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. This is what the ancients were commended for. By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God's command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

Tangible Ways to Keep Christ in Christmas:

1. Wrap baby Jesus in your Nativity and let that be the first gift opened on Christmas morning.

2. Limit the gifts and remind your kids it's not their birthday. But His.

3. Celebrate with a birthday cake for Jesus.

4. Count down to the Christmas Day with an advent calendar that focuses on Christ.

5. On Christmas Eve or Day, read Luke 2 together.

This Christmas, I pray you will make it about Him.

by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family
:angel: :angel: :D

Dec 22,2011

A Christmas Blessing

This Christmas

May the blessing of JOY abide WITHIN you...

May the blessing of PEACE rest UPON you...

May the blessing of LOVE flow THROUGH you...

May all the blessings of the Lord be yours at Christmas
and in the New Year.

Praise the Lord... Who satisfies your desires with good things. Psalm 103:2,5


:angel:

An (un)limited Time Offer
Dec 22, 2011 MelanieAMoore


I walk the aisles of the store, quickly scanning each shelf, glancing back at my enormous shopping list, and feeding an endless supply of Goldfish crackers to my small son. The stores are completely crowded this time of year, with everyone finishing up last minute Christmas shopping and double-checking their list of who has been naughty or nice.



"Oh, I'm so sorry", I whisper as my shopping cart bumps into another shopper's.

"Humph", he grunts at me and walks on down the aisle, scowling at the crowd.

I feel my spirits start to fade too, as yet another announcement blares out over the speaker that there is a SALE, and it is for a LIMITED time, so I need to HURRY! The Christmas music seems to be getting louder, I realize the check-out lines are getting longer, and my endless supply of Goldfish crackers turns out to have an end after all.

Right in time for a cranky toddler.

Is this what it's all about?

I stand completely still in the middle of the aisle, and for the first time, I really look around me.

Really look.

I have been in the store for almost an hour and had never stopped to really look around and see.

If Jesus walked into this store, would I see him? Would I take time to notice him? Would I just grunt at him as we bumped elbows? Would I snatch away the last sale item from him and give a momentary triumphant glance after my sale victory?

"There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance,
nothing to attract us to him." ~ Isaiah 53:2

I shamefully but honestly realize that I probably would not notice Him at all in the crowd. Jesus would not burst into the store with an entourage and use the loud-speaker to announce His arrival. Loudness is not His style. He speaks in a still, small voice. After all, on His long-awaited birthday, He slipped quietly into our scarred world. He left the paradise of heaven to become flesh for my salvation, and yours.

If I lived in Bethlehem so many years ago, would I have noticed in the quiet night that the Messiah had come? That the Hope of nations had quietly made His miraculous arrival?

I realize that I miss Him so many times in my daily life, when He whispers with His still, small voice. I pray for answers, long for intimacy with Him, cling to His promises, but yet, so many times... I drown out His voice in my loudness and chaos.

A loud, chaotic mall full of Christmas shoppers.... in my heart.

This Christmas, could we stop and look for Him? We may see Him in the face of a child who feels alone and is longing for hope more than a shiny bicycle under the tree. We might see Him in the lonely eyes of the widow or the uncertain glance of a young, single mom. Would we hear Him ask us to help another family who is struggling to put food on the table?

Would we do it for Him?

I pray that God will help us to stop, really look around, and to be His hands and feet to show His love this Christmas and to point others to the One who came to save us.

So that we might have Life.

Is there any Christmas gift more wonderful to share?



By: Melanie Moore, Only a Breathe
:angel:




   :angel:
For when everything is different
Emily Freeman


We walk in the back door from the carport and the kids rush ahead to the tree, eyes round and ready. I can't help it, but I notice the envelope sticking out from one of the top branches. I wonder how late he stayed up this year to hide the clues. He's a sing-song poet and his simple lyrics and rhythms get good laughs every year.



He always wears the same button-down red sweater at Christmas and passes out Santa hats to the kids. That sweater clashes with the burgundy chair in the corner where he sits with a big pair of scissors on his knee. He knows scissors are important for those plastic ties in the toys and he takes great delight in being the gatekeeper to fun.

Last year when my sister-in-law got engaged, I told him he should write a poem about that, now that we're having another addition to the family. He semi-ignored me, smiled a little. But sure enough, days later on Christmas, there is was. We read it out loud and marveled how he found a way to use the word leggy.

That was the last poem he wrote that I know of. This will be our first Christmas without him.

We're not sure how to do this thing called grief, especially at this time of year. How do you hold the memories without falling apart? For a girl who likes to do things right, this whole thing feels wrong. We can't detour around this brokenness. The only way out is to walk right through. It's a tunnel we've been traveling since his cancer diagnoses, but during the holidays the tunnel can feel especially dark. I watch my husband and his siblings enter into this season without their dad, my kids without their grandfather. My son asked just this morning Will Duke ever come back? I tried to stay upbeat when I said No baby, he won't.

Christmas this year will be different. We'll be searching for normal under piles of paper but I know normal doesn't show up that way. It will be years to find a new one and we'll look back on the years he was with us and say it felt like a lifetime ago.

Every year Emmanuel means something different. Life peels back more layers and we're left standing raw until they heal. But God coming down to this gritty, dusty, land of the dying makes every difference in our hope for living. He is with us. He is in us. He is here.

How will Christmas be different for you this year?
:angel:

Making Christmas Special: Why I Gave Up
Dec 23, 2011 Stephanie Bryant


Making Christmas special.

Why do I think it's my responsibility?  You know.. . to make Christmas special.

Why do I think if my house has lights, handmade gifts and my cookies are the first to vanish at the neighborhood party that my Christmas celebrations will be more meaningful?

Why does Christmas seem to become more empty some years, especially as I get older?

Why do I think that Christmas will be more special when I have children?

Why does 'special' seem out of grasp? Or such a huge and daunting task that I put on my Christmas list so long ago?

Somewhere along the way I bought into the idea that it's my responsibility to cook food that looks like a magazine cover, select the perfect gifts, know how to make fluffy bows, hand make everything, and keep the true meaning of Christmas in everyone's heart.

{These are the questions I've been asking myself as my fake Christmas tree sits naked in my living room awaiting my decorations.}

I've also been thinking a lot about rest. So, if I'm going to rest in Jesus, then I have to turn everything over to Him, including making Christmas special.

So, this year, I'm doing something really crazy and handcrafting a prayer, asking God to make Christmas special. I give up on trying to make Christmas special —- in my own power.

I want Him to make this year different, better, more meaningful and yes, special for me, for you.

by Stephanie Bryant, co-founder of (in)courage and now Creative Mastermind at S. Bryant Social Marketing.
:angel:

What an Amazing Miracle Jennifer Moore


Jennifer Moore is the Senior Product Manager for DaySpring Cards and led the development for the new Love Came Down Collection from DaySpring. She's sharing with us the inspiration behind the new line.

Jennifer has been with DaySpring almost 8 years and has been married to Chris for 11 years (they've known each other since they were 9!). Jennifer and Chris have an amazingly adorable two year old daughter named Isabelle Cherie (also known as Bella). They love to travel and are involved in their local church working with the youth ministry and leading a home fellowship group.



In the chaos of this busy season, it's so very easy for us to forget what an amazing miracle took place over 2000 years ago. I know, we hear daily "don't forget the reason for the season" and all work very hard to be intentional about remembering why we celebrate, but do we ever really step back and just be AMAZED by what it is we're actually celebrating in the midst of all the doing–shopping, baking, wrapping, and decorating?

Think about it. LOVE came down in the form of a sweet, helpless baby. LOVE. That word seems to be getting a lot of buzz these days, as it should. But what I'm talking about is a physical manifestation of the greatest love of all time.



Our Creator–the Alpha and Omega, the One who is omnipresent–humbled himself to human form and came as a tiny baby into simple surroundings. On that night in a stable LOVE truly came down from above to grant us grace and peace that passes all understanding.

This crazy, amazing, wonderful gift of love is what inspired our team to develop DaySpring's latest Christmas line. As we spent time praying together and brainstorming ideas for what is our most important product development season, the idea that what we celebrate at Christmas is really what we celebrate throughout the year kept coming up over and over.

Gifts like grace, peace and love only BEGAN in that stable when Jesus was born. This isn't an event– it's a process.

We are currently living the story. And it truly is a story of love. We are told specifically to love.



We got so excited about the idea of developing a Christmas line that could carry over into Valentine's Day and beyond. As we began talking about what this would look like, the level of excitement increased with each idea. Hospitality, giving, fellowship and loving on friends and family, yes, this is what Christmas is all about, but, think about it, it's what CHRIST is all about!

This is what we're called to do each day! Once we knew we had the right theme, we had to decide what that looked like tangibly. This is always the toughest part of what we do each day—how do we translate an exciting, amazing message (God's love) into products that will communicate that story. We started by focusing on hospitality.  We wanted items that could be both functional and yet elegant. Something that you would want to keep for years to come and would be a continual reminder of God's love and His amazing gift of Jesus.

And this was how Love Came Down was created. Finding the right message that spoke to our hearts and then working to create products that communicated that message on quality products. My favorite items in the line are the Desktop Advent Calendar and coordinating Felt Advent Countdown. Using these two items together, my family can talk about Christ's love each day and my 2 year old daughter can move the heart from pocket to pocket signifying the anticipation we have for baby Jesus' arrival. Hopefully you will find your favorite pieces in this collection, too.



This Christmas season, I pray that you will experience the most amazing LOVE—Jesus Christ. My amazing family, my team of talented coworkers, and you friends here at DaySpring wish you a very Merry Christmas and a year full of LOVE.
:angel:

What He Really Wants You to Remember this Christmas
Dec 23, 2011 05:28 am | Ann Voskamp


She hands me this two-inch Christmas tree.

A Christmas tree made of salt-dough, painted and varnished.

She gives it to me right at the beginning, right when we meet.



The boughs of the tree in my palm, they are dough, cut and bent — these wee branches extended straight out. I don't know how long it would take to make a tree like that.

Lidia's mother, she's telling me they've waited 3 years for a sponsor for Lidia. Lidia's laying these Christmas ornaments right in my hand, one at a time.

It's the first week of November.

It's Ecuador and it's hot.

I'm not thinking about Christmas.

"Lidia, she went all the way to the market for these." Her mother tells us this in Spanish, pointing to the dough ornaments.

The mother tries to catch my eyes. She waits.

She waits until I am waiting on her next word — so she can frame just this:

"She bought these for you with her own money."

And with one line, the dough ornaments in my hand, they feel like gold. Like an incalculable sacrifice.

She's waited three years for a sponsor? And she's taken what money she has and bought me a two-inch Christmas tree? I scan Lidia's face, trying to understand.

"I just don't want you to forget." It's her first sentence to me. She says it in a whisper. Shy. I try to hold her gaze,

She looks away, looks down, down to the tree, fingering the branches of the tree.

"I just wanted you to remember me."

Oh, Child.

I reach out and touch her cheek and say yes.

Yes, I will remember you.



I would fly away from her.

I would fly home in November and it would snow a bit in December and it would get cold.

We would decorate a tree in the living room.

We would hang her picture off a branch. I would set out her salt-dough ornaments. I would remember her smile and how she looked down.

We would read the stories in the Old Testament of the promise of His Coming and we'd walk through a living nativity, go to a re-enacted Bethlehem.

We would kneel at the manger.
I would kneel there and wonder at this God.

This God who shows up in the stench of a barn. If God avoided red carpets and opted instead to enter the black stable, is there anywhere the hallowed presence of God won't appear?

If the blinding holiness of God breaks into this world with the cry of a child wrapped in filthy cloths, lying in a dung heap — then couldn't God reveal Himself anywhere?

If we can't ever fly from God, if God could show up anywhere— then when it's exactly most unlikely for Him to come to us — it is most like Him to come to us right then.

I would kneel at the manger and it'd be so clear, right there in that scandalously helpless babe: God steps before us — in ways we can step away from Him.

It's possible: You can abandon a baby on some backstreet behind a mall, Christmas shoppers passing by oblivious. You can nail God up to some tree. You can inadvertently turn your back on the beggar and the holy and God right before you while you decorate with the ivy and the holly and I know.

And I'd finger along it on the wooden grain of a manger trough— The God who needs nothing, came needy. The God who came to give us mercy, was at our mercy. And He who entered into our world, He let's us say it in a thousand ways– that there is no room at the inn.

God steps before us in the need we can neglect.

He steps before us in the desperate child waiting for a hand, in the misfit down the street we don't have to invite to dinner, in the relative that's but a dressed up broken beggar sitting at the end of the table.

God steps in front of us not so much in the lovely — but in the unlikely.

I would be kneeling there at the manger, thinking of our God curled like a pod between trough planks, our God who paid with Himself, incalculable sacrifice, to lay down on the bark of a tree just to pull us close.

And I would remember Lidia standing there offering her tree.



When we'd walk out of the living nativity, walk away from the baby lying there, walk across the parking lot looking for our vehicle to drive home to our warmth and the music playing low and the lights of our tree, it'd almost be this moan on the wind:

I just wanted you to remember me....

When I was hungry — did you remember Me?

When I was hollowed out and emptied out and worn right out — did you remember Me?

When I was thirsty for water, parched for fresh grace, bone dry for the real Body of Christ — did you remember Me?

Oh Child.

Oh, Christ Child.

I'd go home from the manger to our tree, the scent of God still on us.

Our daughter, Hope, she had picked out Lidia.

It's Hope's letters and cards we carried to Lidia that hot meeting day. It's Hope's ornament that hangs on our tree beside Lidia's  shy smile.

I'd finger along those letters.



And it's there too on the tree—

The  salt dough angel Lidia had handed me, wings reaching out for a star.

Reaching for that shimmering ornament strung up in the night sky over Bethlehem.

That star over a manger, over an unlovely mess and an unlikely Messiah ...



I'd reach it out and touch that ornament. 

Yes, we will remember You.

In any of the thousand faces and ways You come.

Us all standing on this spinning orb before the manger, before these trees —

all our limbs and light and love reaching straight out.

::

:::
~ Ann Voskamp


Q4U: How has God met you in the unlikely this Christmas?

How are you 'parched for fresh grace, bone-dry for the real Body of Christ'? How can we remember you today in prayer?

How are you reaching out and remembering Christ in the least of these this Christmas?

:angel:

How Joy Comes To Your World
Dec 23, 2011  | Kari




About a month ago we sold our dream house and down-sized into a rental. We lost a lot of money, I guess you'd say.

We lost about 1,000 square feet. Lost that big soak tub. Lost my walk-in closet. Lost our garage. Lost our double-sinks. I guess we lost the tax deduction for mortgage interest too.  Now that I think about it, I guess we lost a lot.

Maybe that's why I feel so much lighter. Why I feel so free.

What happened? some asked. Lose your job? Unforeseen financial challenges?

Nope. Nothing's changed except our hearts. We read a little story about a Kingdom:

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a treasure that a man discovered hidden in a field. In his excitement, he hid it again and sold everything he owned to get enough money to buy the field.

Discovering hidden treasure makes us so excited we do crazy things.

We find crazy joy.

Because that's what we've found in the midst of all this loss. Found this crazy joy of kicking the American dream to the curb and racing back to that field to dig down and unearth that treasure. The Kingdom of God. And while of course we're not once-and-for-all cured of consumerism it sure feels good to give it a good blow to the gut and send it reeling for awhile while we rejoice at all this treasure we've found. This blessing of giving away.

It is more blessed to give than to receive.

No shoulds or oughts in that statement, just a fact, a promise, a law in place and it whispers to us: This is where to find joy.

Does everyone need to sell their house? Certainly not.

But there is a treasure and there is a joy awaiting us any time we "sell" our earthly pursuits so we can "buy" eternal pursuits. Little choices, every single day. Every day we have a hundred opportunities to say yes to heaven. To heap up treasures there. To believe, really believe, that our citizenship is not here.

That today is not our glory day.

But today is a glorious day filled with a thousand opportunities for good. For blessing. For joy. There are millions of beautiful people waiting to hear the Good News. There are millions of children waiting to be sponsored. There are a million chances wherever we are now to give for the glory of God.

Joy came to the world through a gift of grace. It continues to come to the world through our gifts of grace. That gift can be a smile or a check, a warm bowl of soup or a cold glass of water.

So many blessed opportunities. Pray through them. Pick one. (Or ten!) And go for it. Then brace yourself because joy will come to your world.

–

Your turn! What has been a joy-filled giving experience (giving or receiving) that's touched your life? Please share with the rest of us — cheerful generosity is contagious and we want to catch the joy! Thanks for reading ...

By Kari Patterson, Sacred Mundane

:angel:

Shine for Jesus
Dec 26, 2011   Tricia Hodges


As I drop each of my younger children at the Sunday school door, I pat a shoulder and whisper, "Shine for Jesus," in that little ear. See, it's a habit we parents adopted a long while ago. Because being positive is so very powerful. Rather than saying, "don't do... or remember to..."

The focus is positively on Jesus. Because, first and foremost, as His followers, we represent Him when we go out in the world. By our actions, our kindness, our choices, our love. There's no need to really give any other instruction, is there?

"This little light of mine...I'm gonna let it shine..."

Aren't we all naturally drawn to the positive? The encouraging? Don't we feel courageous when we know Who is for us and that He triumphs over those against us?

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? Romans 8:31

My older children – they are leaving for church youth group and extracurricular events, times with friends. "Shine for Jesus," I still say.

But, this simple positive? It works for us adults too. Three powerful little words. We too can shine for Jesus.

Shine as stars in the world. Phil. 2:15

~By Tricia at Hodgepodge
:angel:


Established. Deeply Rooted. Upheld.

I have always been fascinated with the Joshua Tree, not only because of its biblical name and symbolism but also because of its root system. This tree has a top-heavy branch system, but also has what has been described as a "deep and extensive" root system, with roots possibly reaching up to 36 ft away.

That is massive.

It is also an awesome visual of how Christ loves us. Deep and Extensive. He establishes us through every trial we face. He holds us up through those trials and roots us deeply in His strength.

He is my foundation, my "dirt and clay". It is up to me how deep I want my roots to grow. It is up to me how far I want them to reach. It is up to me how tight I want to hold onto His promises.

Because He is holding onto me for dear life.

"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ." -Ephesians 3:16-18

He has already provided all of the fertile soil I need.

He has already provided all of the strength I need.

He has already provided all of the courage I need.

He has already provided all of the resources I need to face whatever earthquakes this life has to throw at me.

All I have to do is root myself in His faithfulness, bloom where I have been planted and know that HE IS NOT SHAKEN..


:angel:

A Sunday Scripture and Blessed Christmas to You
Dec 25, 2011  incourage




Today in the town of David

a Savior has been born to you;
he is the Messiah, the Lord.

This will be a sign to you:

You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.
Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."
Luke 2:11-12.



Savoring The Nativity – A Time For Pause
Dec 25, 2011  Kathy Cheek




Curled up in my favorite comfortable armchair and carefully sipping a cup of hot spiced tea, listening to carols on my favorite Christmas CD in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, is the way I most enjoy the season of Jesus Christ's birth.

In the glow of those sparkling tree lights is the Nativity that sits on our hearth, that small and cherished visual of the Christmas story which has graced our home for over twenty five years. Joseph, Mary, and Baby Jesus are surrounded by animals, shepherds, wise men, and angels.

Above the hearth hang the stockings for our family. All our names are monogrammed in a stylish script on these beautiful stockings that invite us to fill them with goodies by Christmas morning.

Traditions are a treasured part of our Christmas celebrations each year. The cookies we bake, the candy we make, the cards we send, the gifts we buy, the Christmas Eve service we attend, and the family gatherings and parties we go to are the activities we participate in to enjoy and observe this special time of year. Much time is spent furiously rushing from one Christmas activity to another – between school, work, church, and home.

Somewhere in the mix of all these obligations and activities, we find our schedules growing fuller and our days busier and busier. Next thing we know, each Christmas season becomes a time of stress and overwhelming busyness and we can feel like we are on a fast, spinning merry-go-round that won't slow down.

If we are going to savor and reflect on the meaning of Christmas as we should, we must slow down.  We will enjoy our celebration of Christmas more when we find a balance between activity and Nativity. I have learned that I cannot be involved in every program, activity, and every party, and must make choices to limit the busyness by only selecting certain ones.

The Christmas season becomes the most difficult time to be still.  In my own experience, if I don't intentionally make myself take the time to slow down and be still, Christmas will pass by in a flurry of activity, and not enough Nativity.

Will I take the time to pause and with awe remember this miracle of Christ's birth?  Will I make the time to rejoice in knowing God's plan to come to earth in the person of His only Beloved Son Jesus, was for me...and for you? Will I think about that Holy night in Bethlehem while I sit in my comfortable chair sipping tea and listening to carols in the glow of the Christmas tree lights?  Will I open my Bible again to Luke 2 and read how a Savior was born?

If I want there to be more Nativity than activity, I will pause...

How do you pause and intentionally savor this joyous season of our Savior's birth?

Luke 2:11-12

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

By Kathy Cheek @ In Quiet Places

:angel:

On Friendship
Dec 28, 2011

The Nester




Our closest couple friends just drove away from our house.  For the last time.



Greg and Caroline have only been here two years and are already moving states away.  Lucky for me we have the internet. But, Caroline left me with much more than funny memories of battery operated toothbrushes for a science fair and plans to hang out with our husbands at the cottage.  Caroline, my introverted friend taught me how to be intentional about friendship.

I thought about it the other day and it's kind of embarrassing but about 90% of my friends here in town came about somehow from knowing both Caroline and Greg. These two are like epoxy for people.  You can read more about how Greg thinks about friends here it's worth the click.  But right now I want to tell you about a few things I learned from Caroline...also known as::

Lessons I learned about friendship from a fellow introvert.



Within weeks of moving here Caroline sent an email out to all of the women who were student leaders {her husband was the new student pastor at our church} and all of the wives of the men who were student leaders {that would be me}.  I remember thinking "Wow, what a go-getter, proactive, thing to do, I bet this girl is a major extrovert, she's gonna think I'm weird and quiet." Much to my surprise, Caroline turned out to be a mellow, laid back, use-her-words-sparingly-and-wisely kind of person.  I was instantly drawn to her because she didn't try to pretend she had a big personality, she was perfectly comfortable with who she was.

As time passed she initiated more get togethers.  She sent out emails to the group about dinner and movies, hay rides and a cookie exchange. I assumed she must love planning things and going to get togethers–I'm always amazed that people like that exist.  Which brings me to my first lesson in friend making.



If you want friends you have to spend time with people you don't know, in order to get to know them so that they can be your friends.


I know what you are thinking–that's obvious.  It is obvious.  But it's really hard to do for some of us.  Ok, for me.

Just the other day I found out how much Caroline dreaded going to that cookie exchange–the one she planned– two years ago. I remember dreading going too.  But I went and I was glad I did. However, I was shocked and also oddly thrilled to find out that the planner of the event was dreading it as well.  I've always assumed that the people who plan stuff like cookie exchanges are all hopped up on how fun it is to be surrounded by a group of women that don't necessarily know each other that well.  Hmmm, maybe people put the effort to plan something not because that thing is their idea of fun, but because they know the outcome will be worth it. It was worth it for Caroline to plan something because she knew that the risk and awkwardness would one day pay off with friends.

The fact is for some of us it seems like to risky a chore to initiate but, I'm learning that if I want friends, it's worth the risk.




I noticed one other thing about Caroline that I thought I'd share::

Say yes

Caroline said "yes" to pretty much everything I asked her to do with me.  Dinner? Sure. I'm having a Blessings Unlimited Gathering at my house want to come? Yep. Wanna go to I heart Thirfting Day with me? and by the way we are all gonna wear this same T-shirt?  Sure. Wanna go to the pool with our kids? Ok. How about we both go to the Relevant Conference and we have to take a plane which we both hate? M'kay.  Want to go to the cottage for the weekend with us right after you were gone away from your four children the weekend before?  We're in.



Caroline reminded me that sometimes all it takes to make time for friends is to say Yes.  I never say yes to something I really don't want to do but, I won't say "no" just because it's uncomfortable for me.  Especially if I'm in a season of needing to make friends.

Even though I'm an introvert, I still love people, I just hate the small talk it can sometimes take that leads to the big talk that leads to real friendship.  I'm really grateful to Caroline for showing me how to be true to my introverted self while making friends.

***

For this year one of my goals is to set up some "automatic ways" to put myself in friendship building situations, I'll be glad to tell you more than you want to know about that in my next post here at (in)courage.  What about you? Am I the only sorry person who makes friendship goals?

:angel: