Infinitely Faithful

I've been praying... about a year, year and a half now. Praying that God would move me to love Him deeply, fully with my emotions. In the deepest areas of my heart, be moved to love Him above all else. To hunger and thirst for His presence over the presence of anyone else. To look for Him throughout the day, longing for the nearness of Him. For close fellowship. For a heart that worships without prompting.

The LORD changed me almost 22 years ago. Loving Him has been a concept I "got."

"If you love Me, you will keep

My commandments." John 14:15

Do I want to obey? Am I trying to obey? Am I looking to Him for the grace to obey? Do I agree with God that His ways are perfect and good and right, and I need to obey?

Yes. Easy to agree with (although harder to live!).

So I knew that there was "love" in my heart for my Savior. He'd changed my heart to desire Him and His righteousness, to be changed to live in a way that would please Him.

But always missing was this deeper emotion of love for Him. This impossible-to-define "feeling" of love, of worship, for my God. I've been afraid of the lack of it, pleaded for the proof of it, searched for evidence of it.

On one level, I felt it was wrong to ask for this human experience, this flooding of emotions that we associate with our love for someone else. After all,

"The heart is deceitful above all things, and

desperately sick; who can understand

it?" Jeremiah 17:9

I was asking God to give me heart feelings. Something heart-tangible. Wasn't I?

But I'd read of others who were so in love with God, their words and thoughts full of worship and gratitude and joy at His nearness. Their emotions stirred with the preciousness of a deep and settled love, their actions reflecting the overwhelming gratitude that thrived in spite of sin-sick hearts.

I wanted that. And wasn't sure what was wrong with me that I wasn't able to taste that. Wasn't sure how to get there.

So I just started praying for that. Knowing that God would redirect and change my thinking as the need arose. And knowing that He would answer.

In His kindness... because actually, He doesn't have to answer this prayer at all, does He? I could walk the rest of my days here, aching for something that wouldn't be realized experientially until Heaven. I am growing in my walk with Him. That could be my road, just this continued growth in obedience and trust and knowledge, without the breath-taking flood of love in my heart.

But God is merciful, and God is kind. And God is working in me, showing me more of the depths of what He has done for me and what He is doing for me today and what are the riches of His promises for the future. And He is changing me to be full of gratefulness and awe and worship. He is meeting me at surprising places all day long, flooding my thoughts with His Word and showing me His love and care for me; fellowshiping with me in ways where I can almost hear and touch and see Him with my physical senses. Causing me to be hungry for Him in ways I never have. And changing me to long for Him above all else.

This post is long, but how can I succinctly tell of what He's doing for me? God's ways are huge and mysterious and indefinable. There are no shortcuts when we labor to describe His work. And I want to write of how He's working in my life. So that I won't forget. And hopefully to encourage anyone else that yes, God is faithful.

"Your steadfast love, O LORD, extends to the

heavens, Your faithfulness to the clouds."

Psalm 36:5

Well I Never

I'm soon to be 4 years shy of 50. Never been there before.

Never, until today, have I been a card-carrying member of the "I'm-sorry-to-tell-you-but-that's-poison-ivy-on-you" club. (Can you believe I never until now?)

I've had scary/gross/ugly caterpillars living in a plastic tub on my kitchen table for about 10 days now. As of this minute, 4 of the 5 are hanging upside down from the lid. Two are almost fully encased in their silk while two more are contemplating the exact point in time to start spinning. The last little guy has had some genetic mix-up and will probably expire soon as the ground crawler he started out as. Never thought I'd allow bugs to take up residence in front of my placemat.

I've never seen caterpillars break free of their cocoons and can't wait to feed the butterflies that hatch.

I've never itched so much in my life.

I've never apologized to my kids beforehand for the crabby, intense mom I could become once these steroids kick in (crazy Prednisone stuff...). Hated that I had to do it, but I don't want to alienate my kids while the poison ivy heals. And I'm praying hard, really hard, that this medicine won't affect me much.

I've never had someone steal my credit card info from some online source and use it to order $2,000 worth of jewelry from some store in Dallas. That happened today.

"And I've never licked a spark plug and I've never sniffed a stink bug, and I've never painted daisies on a big red rubber ball; and I've never bathed in yogurt and I don't look good in leggings and I've never been to Boston in the fall..." (smiles)

Blind-Sided

I knew this moment would sucker-punch its way into my day at some point.

Didn't know it would be today.

And I know there will be many more of these to come.

Just didn't think today would be the beginning.

I gave the last math test today. The first of the last tests for 8th grade.

I cried as I laid the book on the printer to copy the pages. Cried as I stapled them. I don't want to grade it once it's handed in.

The next math lesson and subsequent test won't be coming from me. It won't be taken at home. I won't have the privelege of grading it.

And there won't be the usual sweet note of encouragement written at the end that always makes me catch my breath and offer up thanks to the One Who brought this man-child to our family.

In August, Mac will begin a new adventure. He'll start 9th grade at an excellent Christian school here. He's chompin' at the bit to play football. He's got an amazing level of talent, he's a big kid, and he's passionate about the game.

He's an excellent student. Great in all areas of school, and I mean all of them. He's an incredible artist, an amazing musician.

In short, Mac will do well at school and sports.

I am thankful he will be able to go. Thankful we can afford to send him, at least for this next year. Thankful we have the option of a good school. Thankful he'll have the opportunity to play and to take art classes if he wants. Thankful for what this new road will teach him and do to prepare him for the adult world. God is good.

My heart has a hole, however, that is growing with each discussion about this next step. As a homeschooling parent, one of my greatest joys has been having my kids here each day. It is such a blessing to be able to talk with my kids all day long, hear about what they're learning or thinking. I love being able to steal hugs and Band-Aid scratches and read under blankets at the drop of a hat. I love sleeping in after late nights and waffles at a slow-paced breakfast table. I love teaching my kids news things and seeing the light bulbs go off.

Even the rough days are better than not being with them.

And our family's game plan, all along, has been to homeschool through high school (as we're continuing to do with Mem). This change of plans has been recent, and I remain painfully divided in my desires and thoughts on this course.

The bottom line is that I know, as far as I can ever know, that God is calling us to change direction.

"The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD

establishes his steps."

Proverbs 16:9

And I am reminded of Who this son of mine truly belongs to.

"Every good and every perfect gift

is from above..."

James 1:17

And I know that no matter how painful this "new" direction proves to be, I can trust ~ fully ~ the One Who has already set the course for all of our lives. And I must continue to look to Him for the courage to drive Mac to school each day and walk past the empty desk in his bedroom once the fall sets in.

And as Mac goes and I fight my fears and sadness, I am sure of this: the Comforter is ever-present.

"He Himself has said, 'I will never

leave you nor forsake you.'"

Hebrews 13:5

Safe

Here's one of my favorite people ~ Mem ~ doing something she loves ~ leading worship ~ and gifting me with what will be one of my favorite memories. I must say that there was a peculiar sweetness as I sat listening to her speak before she sang: our roles reversed as she ministered the Word to me and broke my heart into tears of gratefulness to God for what He does in each minute of my life. She is my daughter, yes; but she is also my sister in Christ and so is used by God to sharpen, encourage, and comfort me as we walk together toward Home.





Another great thing about this video is that the young lady playing with Mem is my best friend's daughter. Doesn't get any better than that!

Soli Deo Gloria!

SAFE (by Phil Wickham)

To the one whose dreams are falling all apart,

And all you're left with is a tired and broken heart;

I can tell by your eyes you think you're on your own,

But you're not alone...

Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging seas,

Give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet,

With a love so strong He'll never let you go;

Oh, you're not alone!

You will be safe in His arms, you will be safe in His arms;

The hands that hold the world are holding your heart.

This is the promise He made: He will be with you always,

When everything is falling apart, you will be safe in His arms.

Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life

Is the very same voice that calls you to rise?

So hear Him now, He's calling you home;

You will never be alone!

These are the hands that built the mountains,

The hands that calm the seas;

These are the arms that hold the heavens,

They're holding you and me.

These are the hands that healed the leper,

Pulled the lame up to their feet,

These are the arms that were nailed to a cross

To break our chains and set us free!

Holding Instead

The laundry is only started when it's supposed to be the last load. The grocery list is running off the page as the last of the bread is consumed, the milk disappears, and the banana bowl glares empty. Dust piles high and tests need grading and mud specks dot the floor. There's still 2nd-grade math and history and kindergarten reading and AWANA to memorize, a 10th-grader and 8th-grader to check in with. Their chores need to be done! Dirt-smudged windows scream secret-code messages to me:

There's so much to get done!
You're falling behind!
You can't get on top of it all!

I'm feeling the familiar of "overwhelmed." I'm a do-er. A mark-it-off-the-list-er. A proud card-carrying member of the four-list-a-day club.

But today. Today, Instead called me out.

Can we do reading on the porch, Mom? Bring the little blue table out?

Sure, we can...

Sat at the little blue table. He still fits. I draped myself on the other little chair and read along. The sun moved and warmed the stress lines that reside on top of my nose. I wondered if the freckles would show up soon.

Can I sit in your lap, Momma?

Sure. Sure, you can...

All 60-something pounds of 2nd-grade molded into my lap. Still fits, somehow (thank you, God). The mouth that reads is lined with black-cherry Kool-aid. The feet wear dirt instead of shoes. The neck smells of sun and dog hugs and Oreos and boy. The moments overflow with Instead.

I am joyful instead of weary. Focused instead of frazzled. Making memories instead of clean floors.

Lord, help me to remember this and choose Instead more often.