(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

Leftovers
Oct 08, 2013 01:10 am | Jody McNatt



Rarely are there any leftovers.

The dinner hour screams through and by the time my kitchen closes down for the evening — dishes done, counters wiped, garbage emptied — there's hardly a crumb.

And if there does happen to be an odd bit left, it's usually gone by 9 pm when the bedtime snackers re-enter, re-open and re-mess up said kitchen.

I'd call them mice, but they are teenagers.

And there's absolutely nothing mousey about a teen who grows two inches each day and wears a size 11 shoe. Nothing minuscule about them at all. They don't nibble, they gnaw. They don't scurry, they scavenge. They're not mice, they're mammoths. And, what's more, they bring friends.

With five children in the house, we have no problem getting rid of groceries. Even a trip to Costco isn't enough. I can fill my cart with oversized boxes of everything. One hundred cheese sticks and the XL two-pack of peanut butter should make it through the week. I toss in an 84-count of whatever and feel hopeful piling copious amounts of convenience foods into my cart.

Costco is not for the breezy shopper in espadrilles. Costco is for combat boots. There's no petite packaging; they sell by the vat, the barrel, the bucket-full.

I'm not really worried about the feeding of the five children, though.

I'm wondering what we're pushing around in our lives that never seems like enough.

It's easy to bring what we have to the table and yet still feel insufficient — even insignificant.

Because often what we do bring isn't enough. We try to stretch it by the strength of our own hands and with the power of our positive attitudes, but when we lay it out we're astounded by its diminutive size.

Our stuff can feel like nothing when placed near great need.

Like the boy who had five barley loaves and two small fish in the face of 5,000. It didn't take a disciple to see it wasn't nearly enough. It was too little, laughable, ludicrous right from the start.

Except Jesus was a guest at dinner that day.

And when Jesus is invited to sit at our table He changes proportions.

Jesus multiplies the minuscule.

"Make the people sit down," He said. I can barely get my five to sit still at our table, and yet in one biblical sentence, the disciples seat 5,000 men. Regardless of what Jesus was about to do with bread and fish, His success in seating is miracle enough for this woman.

However, Jesus didn't come to dinner to help with the seating arrangement. He was there to demonstrate a great lesson in what He can do with just a little.

What He can do with our little.

"The boy had five small loaves of barley bread and two small fishes." With 5,000 people to feed, it wouldn't have mattered if the lad had pulled all of Costco out of his pocket. God makes it clear they were small loaves and small fish — breadsticks and minnows, maybe.


But God is in the small things.

He isn't dependent on how much we bring.

He makes much of our meager.

"My grace is sufficient for you ..."  2 Corinthians 12:9

And no matter how little we are, or have, or bring ... He is enough.

But don't skip over the ending. "They filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves which were left over by those who had eaten."

Friends — after feeding 5,000, there were leftovers!

Leftovers!

Jesus is not JUST enough. Jesus is MORE than enough.

[Judy Harder]

Every Book Starts With a Sentence
Oct 09, 2013 01:20 am | Lysa TerKeurst



One of the most common things people share with me when they find out I'm an author is that they want to write a book. And I believe they should.

Not everyone will be published but having your thoughts, life lessons, and creative stories captured in a place outside your mind is good. I would treasure one page of wisdom written by my great-grandmother. But all her words died with her. And that makes me sad.

So, if you feel inspired to write – write.

If not a whole book, one page.

If not a whole page, one sentence.

After all, a book always starts with a sentence.

But if you do feel called to write a book, how does one do this? Where do you begin?

For me a book usually begins with paying attention to three things:

• A string of life lessons I'm learning with a common theme
• Conversations I have with others where they bring up this same theme
• A deep conviction that God wants me to park my brain and heart on this topic for a good long while

Then I put these initial thoughts about the theme of the book through a filter of questions:

• Is there an audience (beyond just my mom and my best friend) interested in this theme?
• What problems are these audience members having for which my book could be a possible solution?
• Do I have some fresh, unique, and reliable answers to share that meet the felt need of this group of people?
• Have I struggled enough with this theme to be authentically relatable as I write about it?
• Have I made enough progress in this area to handle the material in a responsible and biblical way?

I use these questions to help me hone the concept of my book. And it's usually in this pondering and questioning of the concept of a possible book that 75% of my possible book ideas die. Because if I can't make it work in the concept phase of a book, I won't stay interested enough in this topic to write 60,000 words.

And heaven help the reader of a book whose author has lost interest in their own material 20,000 words in. Have you ever read a book that started off great but then started boring the mess out of you? Me too. It's disappointing. And it's usually because the author didn't hone their concept enough before jumping into writing the book.

Once the concept is fully explored, it's time to develop the content.

I start with the word count and chapter count. A typical non-fiction book for me is about 60,000 words. I personally like shorter chapters that are pretty consistent in length. So, if my chapters are going to be around 5,000 words... I will need 12 chapters.

As I look at what these 12 chapters will be, I draw a circle with 12 spokes coming out of it. In the circle I write the "focus sentence" of my book. A focus sentence is that one statement that encapsulates the value I want my reader to get from this message.

Note, I didn't say that I write what the book is about. Nope. I write a sentence that reminds me exactly what my reader will get from this message. For example, for my book Unglued, my focus sentence was:

"This book will help a reader make imperfect progress with their reactions and therefore their relationships as they know with confidence how to better handle conflict."

Then I start writing possible chapter ideas that stay very true to this pure focus. I use key words from my focus sentence to seed my chapter ideas and keep me "focused."

So, based on the sentence I shared above, I will come up with some chapter ideas on IMPERFECT PROGRESS, REACTIONS, RELATIONSHIPS, EXTERNAL CONFLICT RESOLUTION IDEAS, and INTERNAL CONFLICT RESOLUTION IDEAS.

Then I start writing. With a sentence. And then another. And another.

And as I write these sentences that form chapters, that eventually form a book, I remember each sentence matters. It's my responsibility to write sentences that are authentic and inspired and true and well crafted. Not English class perfect. More conversational. With threads of personality that clearly demonstrate a consistent voice my readers have come to expect from me.

These sentences, they matter. After all, it's not often whole books that change people's lives, but rather sentences tucked within chapters.

And at the end of the day, that's why I sit at my computer and tap these keys for hours at a time. I love untangling thoughts that might possibly be used by God to help another.

It's a process, this book-writing thing. It's hard and messy and crazy time-consuming. But what a wondrous thing to have words that live on beyond us. Sentences that linger and continue to inspire. Yes, please.

By Lysa TerKeurst

Do you want to write sentences that will change someone's life? Lysa and her Proverbs 31 Ministries team are launching a monthly membership training program called Compel: Words That Move People, to equip you to do just that. Click here to find out more information.

[Judy Harder]

Over-Committed
Oct 10, 2013 01:20 am | Sarah Markley



When we were in high school we used to pass notes in class. Remember those? That was well before texting took over.

Sometimes we made it interesting by doing origami-stunts with our notes, writing in the backs of novels we traded back and forth, or once in awhile, we made it our goal to fill in every white space on a piece of notebook paper. We'd write from top to bottom, all the way left to right ignoring the red vertical line down the side of the page. We'd write around the three holes punched and we'd fill it all in with our fifteen-year-old thoughts.

I always think about these notes when I begin to feel like I'm over-committed. I feel like my life (a little like it is right now) is like that side-to-side notebook paper. I've filled in all available spaces with things to do, things to write and things to complete.

The fact is that everyone needs clear, free margins in their lives. My problem is that I'm a work-at-home mother, and so there are no clear boundaries between work and rest or between responsibility and play. I gladly fill in all my margins with stuff and when I run out of room, I try to cram more stuff in.

School volunteering, driving for the field trips, volunteering for the potluck at church, organizing the fundraiser, exercising, leading a table at the mom's group, helping drive carpool, writing blog posts for other people's blogs, and not to mention, doing the work that we do have that really does pay money. Fill in your own blanks; many of us over-commit ourselves.

When we fill in our margins, we have no time to relax, to think, to be creative or to dream. All we do is DO and we don't have any time to BE. And we certainly don't have any time to just rest.

Here are five questions to ask yourself to begin to evaluate if you are over-committed. Chances are, if you are obligated to too much, you already know it.

1.    Do I have any time built in to my life to rest?

Ask yourself, do I have any weekly or daily time built into my schedule to break away from commitments and let my brain, body and heart rest? Is my life so filled in that there is no time for that at all?

2.    When I am resting am I thinking about other things?

Sometimes when I'm taking a break my mind is racing about all the things I have to do when I'm done "resting." My nap is interrupted by my own brain. When I can't really take a break and be present in my Sabbath, I know I'm doing too much.

3.    Do I have trouble saying "no" when someone asks me to do that one extra thing?

Sometimes we are women who can't say "no." And if we are people-pleasers then it's even worse for us. We don't like to disappoint others and say "no." If you are a "yes" girl, you might be doing too much.

4.    Does being a part of things make me feel valuable?

This is me. When someone asks me to do something or when I see a need, sometimes the basest part of me wants to be a part just so I can feel valued. It makes me feel better when I'm on leadership for something or I have access to All The Things because I was at the meeting.

5.    Do I know myself well enough to make accurate evaluations about my time?

I admit, I struggle here. I want to help and do and be a part so much that I think, "I can do this. I have time." But I really don't. At times it takes my husband or my kids to notice that I'm too busy because I don't have an accurate gauge myself.

If you do find yourself in a place of over-commitment, first think about beginning to practice the word "No" to any new commitments. Then evaluate what you have said "yes" to and see if there is anything you can gracefully and humbly step away from. Consider your emotional and spiritual health in this and prayerfully consider if there are any other people that can step up and fill the void you might be leaving.

Keep white space in your life. Keep your margins clear if you can. And by all means, try to schedule in time for Sabbath.

What about you? Are you over-committed? Do you have trouble saying no?

[Judy Harder]

Communion in Mismatched Plates
Oct 11, 2013 01:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider



I loved Myquillyn's recent post about the near-extinction of the drop-in visit because it conjured up memories of my greatest fear when we lived in Turkey: the drop-in visit. As a culture that straddles both European and Middle Eastern cultures, unannounced visits were perfectly normal.

In fact, they are considered an honor—it's a great blessing to have guests in your home, so for people to drop by with no warning is to tell you that you are seen as a real friend: hospitable, a soft place to land, worthy of someone else's afternoon.

And I have to admit, that totally stressed me out.

There's layers of psychology behind that, but I won't bore you with it right now. Here's the real reason it was stressful: because I'm a perfectionist in my flesh, and if someone came by unexpectedly, they'd see my laundry piles and encrusted kitchen counters and children with no pants.

I learned to deal, but I can't say I ever succumbed to surprise visits being an honor. But three years later, I can look back and safely say I learned about how I'm made because of that cultural norm, and how God can use my inner driving need for perfection to remind me that He alone is perfect, He orchestrates all things in His goodness, and that I can rest in Him as perfectly loved.

I'm not loved for my near-perfection, and neither are you. We're loved because He is love, plain and simple.

Furthermore—our friends don't love us for our perfection, either. In fact, don't you breathe a little sigh of relief and smile a bit when you come to a friend's house and you witness a peek of their crazy? There's something comforting in seeing reality in others' lives.

When my family goes to a museum-quality house for dinner, I spend most of my time making sure my little kids don't break stuff. When we go to real houses, I let them run off and explore, and I lean back and savor the dinner served on mismatched plates.


Drop-ins don't happen often in the States, but my time in Turkey has taught me to let go of the never-happening ideal of perfection—not only for my own good, but for the good of others. When we let others into our real, imperfect lives, we're inviting them to be their true selves in our presence. And that, friends, is where true intimacy is birthed. That's real friendship, real life, real communion. Our imperfection can remind each other of only-God's perfection.

Let's let down our hair a bit with each other. Let's let people into our real life, our real home, crayoned walls and all.

What imperfection in your life will you embrace this week?

[Judy Harder]

Be Present, Even When You're Most Afraid
Oct 12, 2013 01:20 am | Bonnie Gray



Like whispers of God in the depths of my heart... Shells uncovered by the storm the night I flew into Georgia wash up onto shore as I walk the morning...



I didn't want to go. 

Even though a part of me did.

Back and forth, I couldn't decide.

It was a last-minute decision — whether I should really get on a plane and fly to Savannah, Georgia, to spend time with my (in)courage sisters.

The morning I was supposed to be packing, I laid in bed.

I wrapped the covers around me. I didn't want to go anywhere.

That's what happens when I start feeling anxious. I feel cold. My body is hijacked, preparing for something threatening, and my nervous system gets focused getting ready to take flight or fight.

I feel light-headed.

I don't want to leave the safety of my home. I like being able to just be by myself  – or control when I would see people and how I would let them see me.

I didn't want to risk social engagement. I don't have the emotional strength to figure out what to say, to whom, when to say it and how.

It's odd because my therapist tells me this is actually good — not trying to figure everything out.

Being present.

It means moving out of survival mode and allowing myself to be — as is. Thawing out to come alive.

Free to be full as well as broken.

Free to be me.

It would be my first airplane trip in two years. Since I've experienced post-traumatic stress.

Not Okay
I've had a breakthrough earlier this spring.

I began to write about my story stumbling through brokenness and overwhelming stress — in hopes of taking others a journey to discover God's voice in their stories and celebrate the beauty of faith.

And now, that story will be published in a book next summer.

But, my journey of faith has just begun. I need God even more. Every waking moment. Of every day. And every midnight hour I breathe on my bed.

You're not okay, Bonnie. I heard Jesus whisper on my heart.

And that's okay.

I want you to go.

Because I love you.

Just the way you are.

I don't know why, but I just cried and cried and cried when those whispers hit my heart — like the first pelts of rain in autumn dropping from sky onto dirt, dried and cracked, caked over by the summer heat.

I didn't know what would happen if I stepped onto an airplane to go somewhere unfamiliar with so many others. I was scared. But, I wanted to believe God loved me — as is.

So, I dragged myself over to the keyboard, shaking and with lips trembling, I wrote an email to everyone telling them how afraid I was — how I might burst into tears all of a sudden or suddenly get really quiet — but how it's okay if that happens.

It's part of my journey to heal.

I wanted to be present.

Even if it meant I wouldn't be perfect.

I wanted to go.

As I clicked "Send", I knew there was no going back.

Maybe the only way out is ahead. 

Even if it means I might fall apart. At least I would fall apart being known — rather than being lonely.

I Couldn't Take It
As I buckled myself into seat 18A on an airplane buzzing, rattling and roaring down a long runway, I closed my eyes and started feeling panic hit the pit of my stomach.

As the plane started shaking, accelerating and slowly starting to tilt my body up, I felt the push of anxiety starting to gather and wind up tight inside me. I covered my eyes and face with my hands and instinctively bent down low, jackknifed with my head leaning towards my chest. But, the anxiety wouldn't stop.

I held my breath waiting for the my body to resolve itself, but the higher the airplane climbed, the more terrified I felt.

I couldn't take it any more and completely became overcome with gut-wrenching sobs, breaking into waves of pouring tears.

I pushed the button for the flight attendant. And asked her through choking tears, Can I have a glass of water? And Kleenex?

I can't hear what you're saying. She couldn't decipher the words I was struggling to get out.

And there I cried in, squeezed in economy class, embarrassed by the sound of my messy unraveling breaths against the thick hum of the flight.

I tell you this story because I learned on that flight what I would have never learned if I did not fall apart with Jesus in that disorienting space between earth and air, praying so desperately – Help. me.  Jesus. –

Sometimes, you have to be present.

Even when you're most afraid. 

Even if it means you will see a side of yourself that you don't want to see.

Because if you take those reticent steps holding onto Jesus' hand, you will find yourself in His arms if you do collapse.

Sometimes, there comes a time when there is no going back.

Gather Your Courage
You may be looking ahead of you at the next step and it isn't one you want to take either.

But, you also know the journey that's led you to where you stand today isn't one you want to repeat and go down again.

So, you will have to gather the courage you have. Even if it's as small as a mustard seed.

Your courage may feel so tiny, it seems like any sudden gust of wind will blow it out of your grasp.

It's okay. That's how the the Kingdom of God lives inside you.

Jesus will be your courage.

He will be your best step ahead.

Because He loves you.

He. loves. you.

He will never let you go.

Twelve hours later after leaving my house, two airports, a connecting flight, and another car ride, I found myself stepping into the entryway of a beach house on Tybee Island, one carry-on bag and a laptop strapped onto my shoulder.

Hands of friends swooped in to hug me, invisible hands slipped the bags from my body, as I trembled, shook, broke down and fell apart — tears pouring out of every pore in my body. It was there I sobbed as quietly as I could into the arms of sisters and friends, who kept whispering, "You made it. You made it. You made it." Over and again.

And I knew, in the deepest parts of me, the little girl in me who is broken had taken her first steps out into the real world.

She was present.

I don't understand how, but I felt full and broken at the same time.

And it made me feel both sadness and soul-changing beauty.

I was present.

With Jesus.

Are you taking steps out into the world — in a way you never would've chosen for yourself too?  Yet, faith is calling you ahead?

Dare yourself to take one step to be present.

Tell someone your fears. Let someone in your journey.

You can start the way I'm doing here. Give yourself permission to write the words you're feeling in your heart. Journal in community. It can be a first step to being present.

Let your voice be heard.

"It is the Lord who goes before you.
He will be with you;
he will not leave you or forsake you."
Deuteronomy 31:6

~~~~~~

Be present now. 

Pull up a chair.  Click to comment.  Let's share.

~~~~~

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

Looking for some company on the faith journey? Join me as make my way on my blog Faith Barista.

Psst... Do you like to journal your heart? I want to invite you to share your faith journey in community with me through words. I serve up a weekly writing prompt and we swap stories. I've been away recovering, but I'm ready to write together again. Click here to read more. Then, click here to sign up for more information.

[Judy Harder]

Five Ways to Make Art in Less Than an Hour
Oct 14, 2013 01:20 am | Emily Freeman


"Find that extra hour or two in the day that belongs to nobody else but you and make it productive. Put the hours in, do it for long enough, and magical, life-transforming things happen eventually."

–Hugh MacLeod, Ignore Everybody: And 39 Other Keys to Creativity

By now you've probably noticed I have a thing for art – both the kind we make with our hands and the kind we live with our lives.


I wrote an entire book about uncovering the art you were made to live because when I talk to people who are made in the stunning and spectacular image of God but genuinely believe they have nothing to offer the world, I get a little twirly inside.

Are you aware of a scrap of a desire deep within you but your first response to it is to toss it aside and label it selfish instead of considering is as sacred?

Or maybe you respect the idea of your art and your desire, but you don't see any tangible ways to practice it at this stage in your life?

We tend to think we have to have weeks to re-charge, endless open days to plan and prepare, a retreat to re-center and re-focus. Those things will help, for sure. If you get them, soak them up and roll around in the blessing of them. But most of us don't have the luxury of wide-open days or weekend retreats on any type of regular basis.

So what's the alternative? Never pursue the art?

What do we do when all the time we get is in whatever drops are left over after wringing out the day? I wouldn't write this if I didn't believe it, but Hugh MacLeod is right: beautiful things happen when we take those drops and begin to fill the bucket.

With the first few small efforts, the bucket still looks empty and I'm tempted to think nothing is happening. But that would be a mistake, because every drop saved is one drop closer to full.

It's true, "full" may not mean fame or attention or accolades. But if you're open to it, it might just be the first important step to becoming more fully yourself.

Here are 5 ways to begin to fill the bucket in less than an hour:

1. Consider the gifts where you are right now and use your time to write them down.

2. Write (paint, play, bake, create) for 30 minutes. Reject every temptation to believe you are wasting your time.

3. Dare to believe you have something to say and say it out loud.

4. Sit in the quiet just because. A lot more may happen there than you might think.

5. Don't try so hard to block out the critical voice. Take some time to listen and decide if it's true. If it isn't? Dismiss.

Do the work you love when the early morning lifts up her head with a smile and a high-pitched song. Sit at the table and make your art when the evening sky fills up the yard right outside your window. There is no formula and there is no wrong. There is only you, showing up as the person you already are, willing to offer whatever you have, no matter how small.

Go make some art today.

It's not to late to join the Bloom Book Club! We'll be reading A Million Little Ways together starting October 21. Visit the Bloom book page for all the details. If you don't have a book yet, you may also want to enter your name for the chance to win one. Winners announced on Wednesday – Details on the Bloom book page.

[Judy Harder]

Hanging on The Edge of Community
Oct 15, 2013 01:10 am | Tonya Salomons



The sun had slipped beneath the waves, the glorious pinks and oranges lighting the sky. It was as if God had taken up finger painting and the pale blue was His canvas. All of it a stark contrast to the dark shadows that lurked in the corners of her heart.

She sat at the mouth of the river, overlooking the lake, on an out-cropping of rocks. Beneath her was a firm and solid foundation yet she couldn't help but feel as if she were perched on the edge of a cliff.

She was familiar with faith, familiar with the born-again, come to Jesus moments that dotted her past. She would even tell you, despite her current state of mind, that she believed in the sacrifice of a good Savior. What she wouldn't tell you is that with each declaration of bravado she built walls of pretense, only as a means of protecting her from the very thing that hurt her the most – community.

She wouldn't tell you about the times when criticism bit and feelings of inadequacy were fed by the remarks of "you're not good enough, we're going to ask you to step down." She wouldn't tell you that in her desire to be loved, to belong, she thought she had to earn her place in the Body of Christ.

She wouldn't tell you about the Sunday she left, tears streaming down her face, after someone in leadership publicly addressed her inadequacies. How in that moment the church door slammed shut and her mind became closed to community.

For a while she was okay with that. For a while she would make up the excuses and find the millionth reason why staying in bed on a Sunday morning was better than darkening the door of a church.

But on that hot summer day God's creation began to woo her back from the edge. She knew she had to dig in and find her way back to Him or let herself fall into "as good as it gets," choosing a life without faith, without community.

She felt the breath of the Holy Spirit and heard the question that needed to be asked, "Do you want to be saved?"


Just like God called the dry bones to life through Ezekiel, she could no longer ignore the fire in her own bones. She couldn't ignore the fact that the brittle and dusty parts of her could actually live again. With a hesitant voice and eyes wet she whispered, "Yes," to her Creator.

And as that final crescent of sun kissed the water, she knew that her path had only just begun.

She knew God had destined her for community. Knew she needed friends, a stalwart of soul sisters to help her recapture her dreams, to surround her in the times when doubt's screech is louder than the faint heartbeat of her desires.

God was working in her life to bring her to a place where relationships would be built on nothing more than the beauty of each person's story. Friends who would press in close and whisper fears to each other. Companionship, where tears would be collected and held in trust until their prayers, the sister lament, could fill each person to the brim with His purpose for their lives.

God used that moment to show her that salvation happens in the middle of community. Soul food is served in the middle of community. Healing happens in the middle of community.

God showed her that she belonged in community.

[Judy Harder]

Find a Safe Place. Be a Safe Place.
Oct 16, 2013 01:20 am | Dawn Camp



I sit in a circle, head bowed, as three friends pray over me. Warm tears run down my face and I instinctively struggle to hold myself together, but I come undone and won't let go of these hands that grip mine.

Why did I have to travel away from home to friends who usually smile at me across a screen instead of across a table to come to this point, to feel the healing power radiating through this circle of women?

Because I haven't allowed myself a safe place.

No matter how put together we may look on the outside, we all experience dark times. Job loss. Illness. Struggling marriages. Broken dreams. Sometimes the problems aren't ours, but belong to someone close to us and we suffer for them.

We aren't made to handle this alone. Our Lord is a present friend and a ready ear. Trust Him. But seek a steady shoulder to cry on and a sympathetic friend to listen face-to-face.

For some this may come easily, but for others—like me—this level of vulnerability simply doesn't.

Find a Safe Place
Look for someone you trust, who won't judge or gossip. Maybe a wise older woman at church who's survived your stage of life and learned valuable lessons in the process. Maybe a long-distance friend with an outsider's perspective.

Just talk to someone.

Be a Safe Place
It would be easier if we wore signs around our necks, visible testimony to the struggles we face. But we don't.

So we need to work hard to read each other's signs.

When your girlfriend casually suggests a girls' night out this week, her calm tone may belie how desperately she needs some face-to-face girl time. Kind words and a sincere "How are you?" may provide the impetus for a much-needed conversation.

Be a safe place for friends who need to talk.

Do you have a safe place? How can we read each other's signs and provide a safe place?

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home

[Judy Harder]

I Choose the Necklace
Oct 17, 2013 01:10 am | Katie Kenny Phillips



Crocodile tears, these were not.

These were leaky eyes. Panicked eyes. The visit to the dentist for this little one had not gone as planned.

It first involved x-rays that mama bear had to put an end to. Then the scraping. And the electric tooth brushing. It tickled, in that uncomfortable way. I felt his pain as I held his sweaty, stressed-out, clenched hands in mine.

All this and finally clean teeth.

But there was hope in the goodie bag. The prize: a gold token. In the hand of this babe, he looked like a gambling man upon seeing the Vegas strip for the very first time.

The prize machine held so many choices. He popped in the token and out dropped a necklace.

I learned later that he had chosen the necklace on purpose. He'd seen a boy at some time, somewhere, who had one. It was as if wearing a necklace was my son's newest and most passionate aspiration.

It was a tiny, delicate, beautiful cross.

He gasped. It was magnificent.

We made our way to the car, having affixed the new precious possession around his neck. He began babbling immediately, which was no surprise, but his words turned spiritual before the door slid closed.

"You know what I love most in the world, Mom?" he asked. One could only guess with that child, as this topic has ranged from diving boards to honey mustard to Mom to his kazoo.

No, baby, what do you love most?

"God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. And this necklace."

I laughed. So sweet, that one. Leave it to a freshly cried-out four-year-old to turn a traumatic visit to the dentist into a holy love-fest. How he could so quickly forget was beyond me.


As I drove home, I shook my head thinking back to a time not too many years back when the oldest one was deathly afraid of the water. I found the best swim instructor with the best references. And that boy cried the entire lesson, screaming "I'm drowning!" while his mama hid in the bushes, silently crying herself.

As soon as the excruciating 20 minutes were over I met him at the pool's edge. He smiled at me. "Well, that was fun," he said. "Seriously?" I wanted to yell. "What lesson were you at? I just had a heart attack listening to this one right here!"

But these responses–such simple, turn-of-the-heart responses–revealed something deep. Something was hard. Then it was beautiful.

I've cried and fussed my way through plenty. There was a recent season of my life when we were waiting on a test result for the middle one and I thought I would all but explode in the waiting. But I wandered and worried and wondered until all of a sudden it was over. It was hard. And then it wasn't. But did I ever stop and think something like, "That was ridiculously difficult but gosh, this is a pretty necklace"?

I struggle. We struggle. In the water, in the chair. With our writing. In relationships. With our Father.

But then we don't.

And we have something beautiful to show for it–whether it's a thing, a confidence or just the flat-out assurance that there is, in fact, another side in all this and we can make it.

There could be something to these teary, panicked-eyed souls who can suffer, then take a token and turn it into a gift.

I want that. I choose that. I choose the tears and the panic. And then, thanks be to God, I choose the necklace.

[Judy Harder]

Stop Apologizing for Who You Are
Oct 18, 2013 01:20 am | Holley Gerth



Stop trying to downplay your gifts.

Stop trying to minimize your successes.

Stop trying to skim over your strengths with, "Oh, that was nothing."

It was not nothing.

It was the spark of God within you.

It was who He created you to be shining bright.

It was what He called you to do coming forth into the world.

Don't listen to the whiners, the discouragers, the critics, the-good-in-your-life-makes-me-feel-bad-crowd.

You have nothing to be sorry for, sister.

Those things aren't a reason for an apology–they're reasons for gratitude, celebration, and praise.

Hold your head high. Keep that joy in your heart. Let your light shine.

It's the proper response to what God has done (and is doing) through you.

And if anyone tells you to tone it down–they can take it up with Him.

XOXO
Holley Gerth

Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. Matt. 5:16