(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Giving Life to One Another
Nov 01, 2012 01:20 am | Sarah Markley




"They're gonna be late!" Chad called from outside. We were still barbequing in October this year. I figured if it's eighty degrees outside we'll just treat everything like summer, including our dinner menu: Tri-tip, green beans and fresh bread.

I walked outside to hear more.

He looked at his phone and saw a message telling him our dinner guests had locked their keys in the house on their way out the door to see us. "I'll just keep the meat warm when it's done cooking," he said. "I was running behind anyway."

In the busy schedules of our families, our friends, who live more than an hour away, were making the trek out here on a school night with their four boys, including a baby, just to see us. This was the only night that worked in any of our schedules.

When they walked in the door a bit later, Susie and I hugged and we thanked them for driving so far to see us. The last time we'd met we had chosen a dinner spot in the middle, so this time it was a labor of love and time for one of our families.

"Oh we love to do it," Susie said after I thanked her for driving so far. "You are some of our life-giving friends."

I agreed that they were the same to us and together we put the finishing touches on an autumnal-summer meal. We gathered the children and ate outside as dusk overtook our yard.



Life-giving.

Refreshing.

Restorative.

As people we can either give life to one another or we can take it. I believe that God created us with that kind of power. We can speak goodness and truth to others or we can speak competition and jealousy. We can act with love and good-nature or we can act with fear and bitterness. We can give one another life or we can take it.

Even with the people we call our "friends" I believe that we can either givers of life or takers.

Life giving people show grace and forgiveness and they love one another. They are grateful for the relationships they have in this season of life. Life giving people feel like family even though last names aren't shared.

Life taking people, however, demand and desire and let hurt and anger fuel their actions. Life taking people let the desire to be the best or the first affect their friendships and they don't own up to the things they've done to hurt others. Being around them feels like a lot of work.

What Susie said made me think about my other friendships. Am I a life-giver or a life-taker with others? What pushes me from the ability to help restore and refresh others to being a person who takes life away?

I know I've been a "taker" before and I hate that I have.

We sat outside long after we should have, past the girls' bedtimes on a Sunday night and let the dishes from ten people pile up in the sink. We laughed and watched the children laugh inside the house as they played games and we were thankful, so very thankful, for friends who help to restore and refresh us.

Do you have life-giving people around you? Have you ever been around people who are life-takers? Have you told your friends they help to give you life?







For Empty Arms and Aching Hearts
Nov 01, 2012 01:10 am | Christie




Five years ago we set out to start our family.  Little did we know, as we made that decision with fear in our eyes, how great God's love would be and how deeply we'd need to lean into Him, the One True God.

We tossed out the birth control six months after we got married and expected to be blessed with a bundle of joy, sooner than later.

These five years have given us a front seat on the wildest roller coaster of our lives; month after month of failed pregnancy tests, prayers and pleading for the opportunity to be parents, many days of sobbing on the bathroom floor; and God was there...

After two years of trying to conceive and no baby, we felt the Lord nudging us towards foster care and adoption.  In 2010 we took all of the necessary steps towards becoming foster parents.  At the end of the year we found ourselves heartbroken at the reality of not being chosen to parent a beautiful two year old little boy.  That day we closed the decorated bedroom door and prayed for the Lord to heal our hearts; and He was there...

The New Year brought new hope as we placed our family profile with a private adoption agency.  Little did we know that by the end of January, we would be the proud parents of our beautiful Moriah Faith; and God was there...

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Psalm 30:5b

In November of 2011 I went to the doctor for horrible abdominal pain.  In that one day, our four years of fervent prayer became a reality and ended in an ectopic pregnancy.  The heartache we endured from the loss of our first biological child was a pain unmatched; but God was there...

On Christmas day we decided to move forward with the adoption of Moriah's biological brother who was due to be born in May 2012.  We rallied our family and friends from church and we set out to bring our little boy home.  We raised every bit of money we needed and were prepared to travel to Florida when we received the call every adoptive parent fears.  Our birthmother had the baby and decided to keep him; but God was there...

At the age of 26, I can tell you that the last five years of my life have been the most difficult and most rewarding, ever.  I have walked through the infertility and adoption fire and I have come out with a testimony befitting to the One True God.

Friend, I know your pain and I know your sorrow.  I know the tears you shed today as the pregnancy test read negative, again.  I know the joy you felt today as you held your newly adopted blessing in your arms.  I know the literal heartache you felt as the sonogram showed no heartbeat.  And, friend, I know the pain you felt today as your birthmother chose to keep the baby you prayed so fervently for.

More importantly, God knows your tears, He knows your heartache, He knows your pain.  And He sent his one and only Son to restore it all and to give you hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11)!

Friends, I pray that you know how deeply the Creator of this universe loves and cares for you; today, tomorrow, and always.

In sorrow, in joy, in heartache, and pain.  He.is.enough.

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." Also he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."

Revelation 21:4-5a

By Christie, Satisfaction Through Christ

[Judy Harder]

When You Need A Steady Stream Of Confidence Today
Nov 02, 2012 01:20 am | Kristen Strong




"More dreams die by self-inflicted wounds than any other kind. God is for you...and it's time for you to be too."

Holley Gerth, You're Made for a God-Sized Dream

I move quickly towards the bathroom, the only place offering solitude in the whole house. I've managed genuine smiles all day while keeping the tears in, but I can't do it anymore. I'm only walking but I breathe heavy as I shut the bathroom door. I clamp my hand to my mouth but the sobs come fast and hard and there's nothing to do but let 'em go.

"You are completely ridiculous," I say to myself, exasperated. "Get a grip!"

And that's when I hear the quiet knock accompanying a gentle, "Kristen? Are you okay?"

Oh heavens. There's no hiding any longer.

The setting for my meltdown was Hilton Head, the place where I was spending a much-anticipated weekend with writers who've become genuine friends. Generally, I am very comfortable around other women, even women I don't know. I move eager to begin conversations and listen to their stories. But sometimes, I do not trust that my own stories hold up to the same interest. So in this glorious beach house with windows from ceiling to floor, I feel like every writing and blogging insecurity jumped straight through my computer screen and stands in full view for all to see.

Now let me be clear: Nobody inside the beach house ever made me feel this way. Ever. But I don't need anyone else to suggest I'm not up to par. I am my own worst critic, off and running with the enemy's dreadful lies.

So when on this occasion I find myself in a room full of women who aren't just good but excellent at what they do, I am overwhelmed by my own smallness.

I slowly open the bathroom door and see kind faces wrapped in concern. I smile weakly and somehow the words just tumble out,

"I don't belong here. I'm just not good enough."

Arms from Ann, Lisa-Jo, and Holley find themselves around me as well as kind words and prayers that give me fresh perspective of who I am in Christ. But I'm not gonna lie: It is a fight to keep my confidence.

I wonder if the same is true for you, if you've ever felt you didn't belong or just weren't good enough? You see the other women at your workplace or the moms at PTO and believe they have their act together while you fumble all ridiculous and small? You aren't alone.

Feeling small isn't a bad thing in and of itself. But when our mind travels from small street to the corner of unworthy and untalented, we have arrived in a dangerous part of town. We are small because of our great God, not because of great people. People are all the same in that we all need Jesus to bridge the miles between us and God. A smaller me leaves space for God to dish out his bigger, better plans for me. And wrapped in those tailor-made plans for each of us is an abundance of talent and smarts He graciously gives, all useful in His kingdom plans.

The other day, I read afresh Colossians 2:10,

"...and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority."

We have been given fullness in Christ. Today, we are already complete. We are worthy enough and talented enough and just plain enough. I repeat this to myself over and over and before long, the empty press of this world and devil static fade into the distance. It is then I find confidence and security with where God has me today.

Just like you, I have heart desires and soul dreams I want to birth. Some may need to be laid to rest on altars while others spring to glorious life. Either way, I will rally behind His plans for me rather than raise a roadblock. If God is for me, who can be against me?

May it not be me.

Kristen Strong, Chasing Blue Skies

[Judy Harder]

Just Look at Me
Nov 03, 2012 01:20 am | Amber Haines




A girlfriend and I have weekly coffee on blurry-eyed Friday mornings, and we work well together, a slight quirkiness about us both, listening so intently to one another unless a good song comes on and makes us zone out and start singing. We both do it, so it's funny. Ginny and I both have kids and it's hard, and we need a break so we come, but we don't always come ready to reveal the depths. Often we come to soak in friendship a little. Always we try not to be mushy, but usually we fail miserably.

A few Fridays ago was no exception. I was explaining how recently I've been through a season where I felt carried along. Being in the hospital with Titus was more traumatic than I had given it credit for. I didn't know how hard it was at the time, because I fully believe that God had scooped me up like a sleeping child with her eyes barely peeking open. I saw the bumps, felt the roller coaster, the capsizing waves, and I hardly flinched.

I was being carried by God, with barely a prayer on my tongue or even the knowledge of left from right. One night I stayed awake all night long holding my limp Titus, and I hummed the songs I thought we could sing at his home-going. I may have been in shock. I planned my child's funeral.

I'm explaining this to her as one who understands more than I would ever want her to. She lost her son, and now she has three gorgeous children with her on the daily, one whose needs are very very special.

I was explaining it to her, how I feel like God has just put me down, and I don't like it. He's put me down, taken my hand, and said, "Now walk with me," and I'm watching myself pitch a fit like child. I would rather be carried, and I hear him whispering that He wants me to know Him, interact with Him, watch Him and follow.

Ginny's reaction to this was so dramatic. Both her hands hit open-palmed on the table, and she shook her head down, saying: "If you only knew. If you only saw what I do everyday." She went on to explain to me that when she brought her precious daughter home from the Ukraine and they had no idea the extent of her special needs, what they had to do was carry her everywhere.

Their daughter has learned to crawl and sit up strongly, and now she's walking very well with a walker. I remember rejoicing that she was learning to take more and more foods, praying that she would receive the bites and move her mouth appropriately. Just last week, Ginny sent me a video of her daughter with a spoon in her own hand. She was feeding herself, and I wept to see it.

Sometimes I feel the swell of the waves, the ship about to sink. I feel pressure on my marriage, and community is hard work, and my children aren't always likable. Life isn't coasting how I want it to. It's one of my most precious thoughts I have now to think of how He loves me: to take this image of our friends going after their daughter, bringing her home, and leading her in maturity. How they put her down and teach her to walk because they love her.

With tears rolling down both our faces, Ginny said, "All I want is for Lena to look at me, to interact with me." And it clicked for us both, more like we'd been whacked up side the head. God just wants us to receive Him. He just wants us to look at His face.

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.

post and image by Amber C Haines

[Judy Harder]

The World Needs More Love Letters

Nov 07, 2012 12:20 am | Dawn Camp


I stare at the blank card, lost for words. Why is this so difficult? Isn't this what I do when I sit at a keyboard and blog, share a piece of my heart, hoping to connect with women I may never meet? But these words will only reach one. How do you shoot an arrow at an unknown target?

With prayer.

Lord, bless the woman who finds this letter and give me the words she needs to hear. Amen.

*  *  *  *  *  *

My oldest daughter wants to show me a project she's started. She's struggled lately and it weighs on me. "Go to MoreLoveLetters.com," she  asks and I comply, eager to know the source of the light I see in her eyes. We watch this video and read these stories while tears slip down my face.

And I understand.


{Subscribers, click here to watch.}

Later as we walk towards the door at T.J. Maxx she slips away whispering, "I'm going to put a letter in The Hunger Games," and I nod, imagining who will find it . . .



My mother told me once that she worried about me. "You're only as happy as your least happy child," she spoke, knowing the chances that mine would all be happy seemed slim. She's been gone over 8 years now, but the wisdom of her words rings true as my children age.

This daughter writes down how she feels in words. They hurt her to write and me to read: Useless. Hopeless.

"The antidote for feeling useless is to be useful," I scribble in this journal where we write back and forth. "And one way to battle hopelessness is to bring hope to others. These letters you're writing? They're useful. They bring hope."

I don't see her read my words, but I know that she, too, understands. {Sometimes the girl who needs encouragement the most is the ones who does the most encouraging.}



"It is a surreal feeling, to compose a letter to an individual that you have no ties to but at the same time you want the whole wide world for them. I wished them a bright day. A day full of laughter. I told them they were unique & special & really quite smashing. (I might not have used the word 'smashing' but I probably will in the next letter.) Really, we are not told enough, in a genuine noncommercial manner, how brilliant we are. How intriguing and wonderful we are. How much we should be commended for waking up today and deciding to take on the task of being human. It is not an easy task. It is not always fun. But it is wildly worth it. Better that we write all these things down." October 10, 2010 (from moreloveletters.com)

I hear these stories, and I want to be a part of it; I want the Lord to use me to speak words of encouragement into eager ears.

Lord help me make a difference.



The Lord answers my prayers today as the words flow from hand to page and I take design inspiration from scrapbook paper and a perfume box. My tools: a set of markers, a pair of scissors, and a glue stick.

Who will find this? I don't know, but I've prayed for her.

Want to Join Us? A Giveaway and a Coupon Code to Get You Started!
Will you join my daughter and I and others who've chosen to pour blessings on strangers? Visit moreloveletters.com to find out how or take the shortcut and get started here. Have 10 or more friends who could write a batch of letters with you? Sign up to make a Love Letter Bundle!

Use coupon code LOVELETTER25 to receive 25% off all card purchases at DaySpring until the end of November. {The Holley Gerth Hope & Encouragement card pack is perfect and it's already on sale.}

One commenter on this post will win a $50 coupon code to DaySpring!







by Dawn Camp, who believes the world needs more love letters






Everyday Miracles
Nov 07, 2012 12:05 am | Michele Perry


Word weaver.  Paint slinger.  Grace clinger.  Sunset gazer.  Pixel tamer.  Dream wrangler.  Born with multiple birth defects requiring 23 surgeries by age 13, Michele is no stranger to seeming impossibilities.  Or to God's relentless Love and His ability to overcome them.  She has been privileged to spend much of her adult life in some of earth's poorest and most broken places in India and Africa watching God transform them one life, one family, one community at a time. 

Michele's first book Love Has A Face tells stories and lessons learned from her first two years pioneering the work she started with Iris Ministries in South Sudan.  Her second book, An Invitation to the Supernatural Life, was just released in July 2012.  She writes of her ongoing journey at fromtheunpavedroad.com and you can capture a fuller snapshot of her world over at micheleperry.me.  She really, really hopes to see you there!

*****



A few years ago, during the dry season in South Sudan when the wind blew the dust hard and there was no rain for months. The vegetables withered and faded and the diet with them.  Soon we were eating only maize and beans every meal.  It was the time I ate only green powder and protein powder for months on end because my body does not tolerate maize.

Suffice it to say it was not ideal, but there was some amazing grace.

About two months into that season, I began to pray a little more fervently, "Papa, we need a solution.  Not just for me, but a way to get nutrition into the diet of our children.  You have the answers!"

Living supernaturally is absolutely practical. And not just in Africa.

A few more weeks went by.  One day we had a visitor who worked in agriculture visit our compound.  I shared with her my concerns.  Her face lit up.  "Do you know what is growing on your land?" she asked. Obviously I didn't.  I was a city girl who had never even planted a seed before moving to Africa.

She walked me over to trees that had newly sprung up since we had started praying several weeks before.  She introduced me to the moringa tree that is known for its incredible nutritional density and drought resistance.

Tears came to my eyes as I realized I was looking right at a green leafy miracle.  I had walked past it completely unaware it was God's answer to our prayers, totally oblivious to the supernatural provision of heaven in our midst.

A number of times, God had multiplied the small amounts of food we did have to feed many more people than it should have been able to. Now He caused trees to grow on our land whose leaves had nutrition that would help our children and community become healthy.

I stood there, speech struck right out of me.  So many times God is moving to answer our prayers in ways we do not yet see.

God delights to give us everyday miracles born in stables and take us on star-led journeys to discover His promises.

The most supernatural moments are not always the most extraordinary ones. Some days they are wrapped in simplicity, hidden in swaddling clothes and born in unexpected places.

We just have to have eyes to see them.

Dear friend, you reading these scribbled words, you are created to live out an amazing love adventure with Jesus.  You are the reason I put pen to paper and splash my heart on a page.


You don't ever have to feel like you are on the outside looking in again.  You are invited into your own journey, your own epic romance with the King of Kings Who holds seven stars in His hands and all our dislocated pieces too.

Yes, you right there with wide eyes and hungry heart and a messy kitchen floor. Crumbs and all, you are invited... not to observe someone else's adventure, but to embrace your own.

It would be my joy to journey with you and offer some practical encouragement on things like:

How to find stillness...
Hearing God's voice...
What it's like to have a vision...
"I think God spoke to me, now what do I do..."
What to do in the dry times...
You are not alone.  You are cherished, chosen and deeply loved.

His, and yours–

Michele, From The Unpaved Road

{Would you like a sneak peek?  I thought you might!  You can download Chapter 1 from the kind folks at Chosen Books.  Watch the book trailer.  Come back tomorrow for an exciting giveaway... In the meanwhile, take a look at some of the endorsements and more information, and why don't you drop by the comment section below and say hi too. I'd sure love to hear from you! I'd particularly like to hear any questions you might have on hearing God's voice, prayer or going deeper with Him.  I'll be hanging around and would love to hear your heart.}

[Judy Harder]

Speak Louder Than The Nutella.
Nov 08, 2012 12:20 am | Annie Downs




I tap my fingers on the table and check my phone again.

Nope, I hadn't missed a text or call... in the last twelve seconds.

He said he would call today. He hasn't.

The sun is starting to set, bringing the changing leaves into a brighter brilliance that on most days would put me in awe, but today? It just makes me feel alone.

Another day has started and now it is trying to end and yet my phone still hasn't rung.

I'm still alone.

I feel un-thought-of. That's not a thing, but it's a thing, isn't it?

Thinking that stepping away from the phone might make it ring [my crazy is showing, isn't it?], I stand up, walk to the kitchen, and pull a spoon out of the drawer. Just one scoop of Nutella will get my late afternoon back on track. Still more writing to do, deadlines to meet, emails to compose.

I pause at the cabinet. My counselor says that I have to determine a reason before I eat. [Yep, I see a counselor. And yep, we talk about food.] I usually bulldoze through that question, but in this moment, I actually stop. I stood there, spoon in the left hand and right hand steadied on the handle to open the cabinet to the Nutella.

Because I'm the only one home, I have an outloud conversation with myself.

"I'm not hungry," I say into the emptiness of my kitchen, "I'm just alone. And sad. And I'm about to eat this Nutella because something in my brain says that it will satisfy this hurt."

Whoa.

My grip tightens on the spoon and I slowly close my eyes.

"God, You're gonna have to be louder than this Nutella."

I turn away from the cabinet and I keep talking, saying the deep hurts of my heart and the disappointments and all the ways that I wish my life was different.

And then I'm finished.

I stand there. And nothing happens.

My phone doesn't ring. I don't see an angel. I don't feel some supernatural strengthening in my soul... all the types of things that you would expect this story to end with? They don't happen.

I just put the spoon away and come back to my computer, resigned. To what? I'm not sure, but that is the word I feel.

I'm reminded of my favorite verses, Psalm 73:25-26. My flesh and heart feel like they are failing, but He is the strength of my heart, my portion, forever.

I settle back down in front of my computer, and the background music begins....

I need You more, more than yesterday,

I need You more, more than words can say,

I need You more than ever before,

I need You, Lord.

And it is true. I need Him more than anything. I am so quick to heal all my hurts in other ways when I should just go to Him, every time. I'm tired of being single? I think Nutella will make it better. I don't know what it is you turn to – a person? A drink? A food? A television show? – but we all look for an escape hatch when this world hurts too much. I looked my escape hatch right in the door today and decided against it.

I don't feel better. My phone is still the quietest piece of technology in this whole house and I'm annoyed about it.

But for today, my vice loses, my God wins, and somehow, my heart will survive it all.

. . . . .

[PS- there is NOTHING wrong with Nutella or eating or food or eating food. It's not the Nutella, it's my heart. It's using the Nutella to heal instead of spread on toast. Just wanted to make that clear. Okay, that's all, bye. ]

By Annie Downs // AnnieBlogs








Catharsis
Nov 08, 2012 12:10 am | Kara Rodriguez





Sometimes gifts from God are straightforward, like a beautiful sunset.

Lately, I've been thinking about a gift that is, perhaps, less obvious—the ability to cry.  I inherited my mother's tender heart.  We cry when we are sad, happy, overwhelmed, tired, touched or feeling any other sort of strong emotion.

Sometimes this is embarrassing, like when I'm seeing a movie with new friends.  I look around and realize that I am the only one moved to tears by the "intensity" of the scene and silently scold myself.  For heaven's sake!  You're an adult!  Keep it together.

But what I try to remember is that this tendency I have is really a gift.  I'd always heard that the act of crying is actually a stress reliever, so I took the liberty of doing a little research.  In Psychology Today, Dr. Judith Orloff reminds us that

"tears are [our] body's release valve for stress, sadness, grief, anxiety, and frustration...they lubricate your eyes, remove irritants, reduce stress hormones, and they contain antibodies that fight pathogenic microbes."

How cool is that?

We can probably all think of times in our lives when tears were a blessing.  While working toward my masters in social work, I had an internship at a big nonprofit doing refugee resettlement.  I was assigned my own "case," a precious Bhutanese family that I worked with throughout my time there.

When I met them, they had just arrived in the US.  They had been living in a refugee camp for more than ten years in a hut with no electricity, barely enough food, and the constant threat of violence nearby.  I can't describe how amazing it was to watch them adjust to their new environment.  Though they had little by our standards, they were filled with hope and excitement just to have a safe, clean place to live and the opportunity to work.

As my internship came to a close, I tried to think about how I was going to say goodbye.  The oldest son spoke English fairly well, so I decided to write them a letter.  I put off delivering it for as long as possible.  I hate goodbyes.  When I finally pulled up to their apartment complex and knocked on the door, the grandfather answered.  The rest of the family was out.  My heart jumped as I bowed in greeting to him.  "Namaskar."  That was all the Nepali I knew.  He beckoned me to sit, and my mind raced.

I couldn't wait for them to return.  My procrastination had put me in a difficult position.

As I sat there on the couch holding my letter, I was suddenly overcome with emotion.  I felt so deeply for this family.  They had experienced so much suffering, and I was inspired by their sweet spirits.  Tears started rolling down my cheeks, and then I couldn't stop.

It was unprofessional, and it must have seemed strange to the elderly Bhutanese man sitting there next to me.  Yet, somehow I think he understood.  It was a moment I'll never forget.  Our eyes spoke to each other across the language barrier, and I left my letter on the coffee table feeling confident that he would know how to explain my visit to the family.

When my (now) husband visited my family for the first time, we were already making plans for him to move to Texas from his native Costa Rica.  We said goodbye at the airport not knowing exactly when we would see each other again.  I cried for the entirety of my 45 minute drive home.  Tears poured out of me like a dam finally breaking, and I released all the emotions of the last few months.

I cried joyful tears because I found the ONE at last!  I cried sorrowful tears as I remembered our goodbye.  I ached already to be with him again.  I cried tears of worry and fear as I wondered how God would work in this situation.  What sacrifices and challenges would we face these next few months?  Could we survive?

When I got home, my dad was alone in the kitchen.  He comforted me as best he could, and then he asked me a question that no one had asked me yet.  "Do you think...maybe...you love him?"  Our relationship was still so new, and I had always been slow to open my heart, but I knew immediately that my answer was "yes".

Sometimes our feelings are too powerful to express in words.  Our tears say it all.  Our joys and sorrows are freed through cathartic tears, and this is truly a gift from God. 

By Kara B. Rodriguez, Spring is in the World





Living Out of Overflow
Nov 08, 2012 12:05 am | Michele Perry




I cannot give what I do not have.

I do know that is stating the obvious, but sometimes it helps me to frame my world with language so I can make sense of its lessons.

Six years of living without electricity, without running water in the middle of one of the poorest corners of the planet as it fought its way back from decades of war has framed volumes of learning. Watching broken little lives be loved back to life and spill laughter again. Trusting God for our food and clothes and safety and healing and hope and everything else.

I am a born problem-solver, a creative to the core. An out-of-the-box thinker, a paradigm iconoclast. And then I moved to South Sudan.

All my good ideas were still good ideas, but they couldn't feed a growing family or heal a dying child, let alone help a warring nation. I needed an overflow that came from heaven, not from earth.

I could not give what I did not have.  But Jesus.  Beautiful Jesus.  He came to give us life and life more abundantly.  The lessons mandated by desperation. These burn the deepest.

I can only love out of overflow.  Loving out of obligation never works.  I know.  I have tried. But where God's Love is miracles always follow.  Why?  Because God IS Love and He is good.  Always good.  Even when we don't understand.



Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.  Romans 5:5

You could say that is why I wrote this book, penned this invitation.

I need to live with heaven spilling into and through my life. Don't you?

But what does that look like practically right where I am, where you are?

And the supernatural.  Why would I be interested in that?  Deep breath. I am not talking about Hollywood spookiness or staged showmanship.  I am talking about the raw reality of God's love making a difference in our world and the ability to walk in close intimate fellowship with Him every single day.

Living supernaturally is simply our birthright in Jesus.  And where I lived in Africa, it was a down-in-the-dirt necessity. {Since moving back to America this fall, I have found it pretty necessary here too.}

The transition has been a bit bumpy in places.  Learning here too friends.  Always learning.  Always going lower.  If I want to know what I am carrying, I have but to look at what I spill out when jarred.




Abundant, joy-filled, wonder-washed, resurrection forever Life only comes from overflow not obligation, from get-to not have-to, from His goodness not His sternness. Only when I live from this overflow do I leak grace and live out His love story etched in my moments and my days.

This book. It is an altar with my story and an invitation laid bare on it.  It would be a joy to share at least part of the journey with you.

Might I encourage you?  Be brave enough to stop.  To seek out selah spots right in the middle of your busy life where you can slow and come to Jesus. {Those quiet moments you can steal away when the kiddos fall asleep in traffic or the rare occasion you are in line alone at the grocery store.}  Lean in then to God's whispers and draw near to Him.  He longs to speak to you in every setting.

Open wide your heart to His Spirit and the outpouring of His love.  Drink deep.  Splash freely.  Flow over.  Spill life.   You and your world will never be the same.



Pssst... I am so excited!  Today, just for Bloom I am giving away THREE autographed copies of An Invitation to the Supernatural Life.  One of the best ways to grow in receiving more from Jesus is to honor and appreciate what He has already done.  To enter, simply leave a comment below telling us one thing you are grateful God has done for you. As we read these testimonies keep in mind, a testimony is a legal precedent.  It builds our faith and encourages all of us to believe God for the more we are created for.  So let's get this testimony party started!

Always remember.  You are loved,

Michele, From The Unpaved Road






Counting Down to Christmas
Nov 07, 2012 03:35 pm | Jessica Turner




It's hard to believe that Christmas is just a month and half away. I have always been one of those people who has counted down to things, so it comes as no surprise that as a child I loved Advent calendars.

My mom would always buy my sister and me one of those simple paper advent calendars – you know the kind – where the little squares open like windows to show little pictures. We would take turns opening the windows and get so excited about what would appear.

I remember one year the calendar was an empty stable and as we opened the windows over the course of December the nativity came to life.

My sister and I would jump out of bed every morning to see who would show up next.

A shepherd!
An angel!
The mommy, Mary!
BABY JESUS!

Now a mom myself, I understand why my mom bought us an advent calendar every year. That simple cardboard calendar was a way for us to comprehend the meaning of Christmas.

This year I'm looking forward to using our new felt advent calendar each morning because its a tangible way to talk about the Christmas story– a literal reminder of love (a heart) coming down (the banner) – just like Jesus came down to Earth.



At dinner each night, as we break bread together, we'll read from our advent tabletop devotional. I believe that the Holy Spirit will use the Scripture, promises of God and questions to minister to our family's hearts – even my little ones, whose hearts are hungry for learning and truth.


The Christmas season is busy, but that doesn't mean it can't be meaningful. My prayer is that each of us will deepen our understanding of love coming down.

By: Jessica Turner, The Mom Creative

[Judy Harder]

More Than Apple Pie
Nov 09, 2012 12:20 am | Jennifer




But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it. 2 Timothy 3:14

It is a beautiful day, in early fall, when my sister and I both go over to our parents' house for our annual apple day. We get together to make apple pies, applesauce and apple turnovers. It is a day that I look forward to every year. This is the first year that my sister came as a wife. A newlywed!  We gather together in the kitchen, around the counter and each take our positions. I am peeling and coring the apples, then handing them off to my sister. She cuts them and mixes in the other ingredients, before she hands that off to our mom. Our mom is making the crust, filling the tins and putting the pies together. We have quite a system figured out. It is a perfect process.

We are hard at work and concentrating on our tasks. The silence is broken when one of us has a story to share or when we burst out in laughter over something silly. The silence is broken when one of us has a question for my mom, who patiently makes sure to answer us. We listen intently... wanting to learn everything we can from her.

She has taught us so much over the years. She continues to teach us... through her words and through her actions. Of course we learn by listening, but I think we learn so much more by watching her. By witnessing her life. We learn about love. We learn about respect. We learn about compassion. We see love. We see joy. We see faith.

We are witness to her sincere faith. A faith that lives in her, which first lived in our grandmother, and in her mother and back through the generations. A faith that has been passed down. A gift. It is a sincere faith which now lives in us.

What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. 2 Timothy 1:13



These are truly precious moments.  And at the end of the day, it is not about each of us taking home our share of apple pies, apple turnovers and applesauce. That is just a bonus. It is about so much more than that. We are taking home a priceless gift.

A gift of love and a gift of faith. One that we will keep and not turn from. One that we will continue to pass along.

Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it. Proverbs 22:6

Do you  have traditions like our apple day, filled with moments that end up being so much more than they seem? We would love to hear about those special moments!

By Jennifer, StudioJRU

[Judy Harder]

On saying it out loud
Nov 10, 2012 12:20 am | Arianne




There's this thing I'd like to talk about. Is it ok if I get right to the point?

We remember that God tells us to forgive but we are hurt, so hurt, and say no, maybe later. Maybe later I'll forgive, because it hurts too much right now.

And then we go about our day with an undercurrent of sadness whisping around and acting as a dark black ribbon running through everything we do. Everything I do.

I don't recognize it at first. I just think maybe I'm down, maybe I'm anxious because of this or that coming up. Maybe I'm cranky because I haven't eaten or slept enough. I always find something to explain it away.

But if I stop and pray, I know there's no physical reason. There's nothing on the to-do list that *really*, in my heart of hearts is causing these feelings. There's something I can't shake, this dark, not-so-dark-I'd-notice-yet-dark-just-the-same, kinda dark rain cloud that won't leave, is calling to me to pay it attention.

And as I pray, I ask God to reveal what that dark cloud is. What's going on? What hanging over my head?

And I hear that voice in my head, my God voice, and it says "my beloved, you need to forgive her."

I balk and decide the God voice is just my mind playing tricks.

But I don't believe that either.

"Forgive her. It will set you free."

I wonder if it could be true, if just by speaking out that I forgive her, for all of it, if that will bring me freedom from this now piling high list of issues I can't shake.

I step out in faith, because I do believe and I want to believe and so I do it. I speak it, I make it so with my words to God and I feel something physically release. I spoke forgiveness. I forgave her right there alone in my car in that parking lot that was so tiny and the rain outside kept me hidden and I did it. I forgave her.

And then it's like suddenly I can breathe deep. Big deep breathes are coming and going and I realize I never noticed I'd been holding my soul-breath all this time. I wasn't breathing. Now I am.

I feel lighter and peaceful and like eternity just shifted in that one tiny spotlight that was shining on that one tiny thing. It no longer hid in the darkness, I no longer held onto it. I was completely set free and I almost couldn't believe it.

And I realized – it has REAL power when I forgive. No it's not just for the other person (they might not even know!) and really, it's not just for me. I think that's limited thinking.

It's also for Jesus and for my soul, to set my soul free, which can only have a ripple effect that just might reach my husband and then my children. They, too, will get to experience my freedom because they are a part of me.

God wants us to step into that freedom, to taste what it's like, to breath for the first time.

Do you have someone you need to forgive out loud?

***
By Arianne

 

[Judy Harder]

A Sunday Scripture
Nov 11, 2012 12:20 am | LJ




The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
he delivers them from all their troubles.
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles,
but the Lord delivers him from them all;
he protects all his bones,
not one of them will be broken.

~Psalm 34: 17-20

[Judy Harder]

Long Awaited Miracle: The Best Kind of Update
Nov 12, 2012 12:20 am | Stephanie Bryant


I posted this on Jan 28, 2011. At that point I had waited, we had waited, prayed, tried, asked questions, begged, and tried to keep the faith for a child of our own.

Each time I was at the end of my ability to be patient and trust, God would send an encouragement that I could hold on to. Meat for my weary hunger. Confirmation that I wasn't crazy or dreaming up a plan that wasn't in His will for my life.

Waiting has been terribly sweet.

"Because sometimes in the waiting for what we long for, we praise God long when the gift comes at long last. Sometimes God has his people wait long, so our gratitude becomes deeper and wider." – Ann Voskamp, The Jesse Tree Journey

It was chosen for me – the waiting.

I choose my response.

I grew weary at the amount of "In God's timing. . ." I've heard after these last 5 and half years of deep desire to be called "Mommy." I know it's true and best, but those words stirred up ugly responses, like a rake to my tender heart.

But God. . . He has shown me grace, a bent down hug when I stumbled into a pit. He gives me revelation that His perfect timing was not only for me, but my future children – His little children. That someday their story will be in the Book with Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Benjamin, Samson, Samuel, and John. All prayed for and believed for by their parents. All appointed for a miraculous time. All chosen before birth by Our Creator, to a specific job in The Kingdom.

All of these, the ones that were prayed for, longed for, waited for – they all point to Messiah – the One we all waited for. Who has come as promised and will come again. The waiting for His return is long-suffering, but Revelation imagery tells us is worth the wait. More-than-I-can-imagine worthy.

So I wait.



Today. . .

The waiting is over!!!  Now I'm expectant with hopes and prayers for the miracle that grows inside me.

Seven is a perfect number and that's how many years God prepared us for this moment, to give us a child that will enter the world in God's perfect timing for him/her, for us, for His kingdom.  {According to the doctor's estimate, May 2, 2013 our little one will arrive in the world.}

But what I love most of all is how our biggest heart's cry and prayers through the waiting years has already come true. Before our little one takes his/her first breath, God is receiving the glory for this little life.

No one has heard our story and not stated that's it's a miracle. Strangers have praised God with us. Others have been encouraged to wait for their miracle.

God's infinite time is not like ours'. And when the miracle comes, the long-suffering seems like a blink. With our miracle realized, I don't look back but forward with faith. We are so thankful that He had a perfect story for us, one that quickly connects others back to Him.

___________________________________

I know your waiting can be discouraging and difficult. I relate to your struggles. But I am so thankful for the waiting.

Are you waiting on something, someone?  Are you thankful for the waiting? Are you allowing Jesus to prepare you for His miracle?

Maybe it's a dream to be realized. Paperwork to be finalized for your child to be brought home.  A love to find you and make you his own.  A relationship restored.

I've worn galoshes through puddles of glory wondering if I could come up with the best version of how God would be glorified through the rain. My thoughts were not as high as His thoughts. His timing was not mine. {And I'm so grateful.}

I created scenarios in my mind of amazing endings to my waiting. How it would play out, how I would find out a miracle awaits.

I know this. His ways will include waiting. But all miracles are worth the wait.

"I will praise the Lord at all times. I will constantly speak His praises. I will boast only in the Lord; let all who are discouraged take heart. Come, let us tell of the Lord's greatness; let us exalt His name together. I prayed to the Lord, and He answered me. freeing me from all my fears. Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy." – Psalm 34: 1-5


What miracle are you waiting on? {Please share so we can pray for your endurance and praise Him when the miracle comes.}




Learning to Let Go of the Try Hard Life (A Teen Book Giveaway!)
Nov 12, 2012 12:05 am | Emily Freeman


She is at a friend's house to play. She's six and she hates peanut butter but eats it anyway because that's what her friend's mom serves for lunch. She stays quiet about her preference.

She doesn't want to trouble anyone.



On her ninth birthday she listens through thin walls as her parents fight about nothing and everything. She knows there isn't anything she can do to make them love each other again.

She feels a sense of shame that she can't explain.

She turns thirteen and is the third best friend of two fighting girls who both tell her their side. She feels overwhelmed with the middle-ness of it all.

She doesn't sleep well at night.



She walks to her seat near the window in the back of her tenth grade English class, catches the eye of a friend across the room and notices the scowl on her face.

As she pulls a sweater out of her bookbag and shrugs it on half-way, she is aware of a nagging sense of shame and responsibility over the mood of her friend. Is she mad at me?

She feels hurt and rejected but tries to hide it.

At seventeen she learns of her acceptance into the college her entire family attended. She is afraid to tell them she doesn't want to go.
She feels responsible to live up to their expectations.



She laughs like her mama, likes country music, puts fries on her hamburger, and dreams about the future. She stays up too late and regrets it in the morning. She sees the moon in a winter sky. It makes her cry.

She panics in the spotlight but craves it at the same time. She makes friends easily but still feels lonely. She feels both too much and not enough.

She is smart and beautiful. But she doesn't know it.

She moves through life like a well-trained cheerleader, elbows and knees locked, smile on her face. With shoulders tense and teeth clenched tight, she braces for tests and right answers. She is ready for anything. But not really.

In a world where everyone's motives seem to drip heavy with expectation, she wonders if anyone knows who she really is.

There is a different way to live. Life isn't about trying hard to be good. It's about trusting God to be graceful in us.



Teaching our girls to be graceful doesn't mean perfect. It means free.

She is specially marked by God's divine grace. But she doesn't know it yet.

That's why I wrote a book for her.

Graceful: Letting Go of Your Try-Hard Life is a book for teen girls and was released in September. I'm thrilled to share it to you today.

Extra bonus? Five of you have an opportunity to win a copy for the high school girl in your life. Just leave a comment on this post.

And if you are a grown up and this resonates with you, you could grab a copy of my book for women on this same topic, Grace for the Good Girl.

Be sure to come back Wednesday for a link to the free downloadable small group leader's guide as well as a one page flyer for your youth pastor.

Portions of this post were adapted from Chapter 1 of Graceful. Read the full chapter here.

-by emily freeman, Chatting at the Sky

[Judy Harder]

To the Woman Who Is Looking for Grace in the Aging
Nov 13, 2012 12:20 am | Kristen Welch


I am getting old.

Before you roll your eyes, it's true.  It's happening to all of us, one day at a time.

I remember wanting to be older in my twenties. I wanted to be seen as an adult. I rushed through those years, always wanting more.

My 30′s have been glorious. I felt good in my skin and accidentally discovered chasing your dreams is a good beauty regimen. I stopped hiding from mirrors and put the spanx away. My laugh lines look more like winkles and my "baby" who left me with a thicker middle is now reading.

The gray is coming in strong now, wild.

This is it.

But my 40′s are next, just one page away on the calendar. I can feel myself aging. I see the proof. And some days, I have a hard time embracing getting older.

I found out last week that my husband told someone I was getting "hotter with age." I made him repeat it three times. Hungry for his words because I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm aging gracefully. [I feel the same about him. The stray grays are distinguishing and his confident stance is sexy. Maybe we both just know we are stuck with each other until death and are living it up in our old age. Whatever. I'll take it.]

He said someone he worked with wanted picture proof of this aging beauty. He said he showed them a picture. "Which one?" I asked slightly horrified.

He pulled out his phone and showed them a picture from this summer in Kenya.

The one picture he has where I haven't showered in 3 days. Awesome. Without makeup or pretense or a blow dryer, this is the picture he shows people who want to meet his wife:



I was a bit mortified and he said, "Are you getting older? Yes. But as you age and live in joy, you just become more beautiful."

Why is this so hard for me to hear and believe?

I think I would have had him pull out my Glamour Shots from 15 years ago. I was reminded of a simple truth in that moment, one I often forget when I'm busy focusing on the outside. True beauty is found inside. When we are working on who we are there, it is reflected on the outside. And that's what he sees in that photo.

But I'm old enough to know the danger of putting my esteem in the hands of a man (even a good one). I have to believe that even though I'm constantly changing, I am the daughter of the One who never changes. His affection for me is pure, untainted by sin; He loves all of me very well.

You, with the baby on your hip and spit up on your shirt, you are beautiful. Grandma, with the white head of glory, there is grace in the aging. I'm in the middle of these and I'm looking for it.

You should too.


How to age gracefully:

See yourself as He sees you
Live Scared-chase God's big dream
Find someone younger to mentor
Encourage the woman who reminds you of yourself 10 years ago
Embrace your appearance as it changes
We are beautiful on the inside and out when we acknowledge Christ's deep and abiding love for us. Love that doesn't change with our accomplishments or appearance. It's always, always there -accepting us exactly for who we are or aren't.

Written by Kristen Welch, We are THAT family





Erosion of the Soul
Nov 13, 2012 12:10 am | Holly Nichols Tabor


My family and I live in the North Georgia Foothills, a hilly place, just miles from the southern trail-head of the Appalachian trail. Living in such rolling terrain, you learn to deal with erosion. Erosion is the gradual wearing away of soil by water, wind, and storms. Webster's says that to erode is to "eat into or away; destroy by slow consumption or disintegration; synonym: grind" and the origin of the word means "to gnaw." Gnawing, that's what has been going on in my life for much of this year.

There's been nothing devastating, just a steady gnawing and grinding of the normal, everyday "tough-stuff-happens" kind of year. No hurricanes or catastrophes, just a constant wearing away of energy, joy, and peace with the grinding and gnawing of irritating stuff.

You know the kind of stuff: you have a good job, but the money just isn't going quite as far as it needs to; no one is seriously or fatally ill, but there is a constant barrage of everyday illnesses and minor accidents zapping everyone's health, energy and mood; everyone in your sphere seems to be edgy, on-edge and just plain irritable; minor traffic accidents that put a further cramp on limited time, money, and energy; crazy-busy, hectic days filled to overflowing with no time to pause, reflect and just breathe deeply. Just the normal, everyday events that everyone experiences, and sometimes there seems to be more of it all at once–wearing you down, gnawing at your energy, your contentment, your peace...not soil erosion, soul erosion.

When you're facing the devastating onslaught of a demon hurricane, you immediately go into crisis mode. As a Christian, you fall to your knees and FOCUS–on Christ, the Center of your ultimate existence, the Creator of your life, the One who holds your plan in His heart and hands. It becomes easy to focus on Him, because to focus anywhere else allows you to see the enemy of destruction beating at your door. For me, the hurricane was breast cancer.

While I fought cancer, God was my center, my refuge, my source of comfort and strength.  I was focused on one goal–beating death and finding life. I was focused on Him and health, not the daily grind. It is a myopic way to live, but necessary when you are fighting such a powerful enemy.

Now that my health has returned, and I have reentered the real world, the real world is attacking with a vengeance; and for some reason, the daily grind has caught me totally off-guard. Now, I have soul erosion. Somehow, instead of living "the good life" I have allowed "the good life" to erode my joy–but I am ready to fight back.

Anyone who has lived in mountainous or rugged terrain knows that in order to stop the erosion you must put up special mesh fences guarding the soil from immediate erosion, while giving young plants time to grow, their roots spreading under the surface, creating a tight, protective web, keeping the soil from washing away during the heavy storms to come.

For a Christian, the mesh fence is prayer. You must stay in prayer to keep your focus on The One who is the author of joy. The protecting web of roots is Bible study–delving deep into His word to establish a firm and binding relationship with Him, while once again focusing on His love and joy and finding His purpose for your existence. These are soul erosion protectors, and they are necessary for maintaining your joy in the daily grind.



holly nichols tabor, glimpsejoy