The good good truths that this is not our home!

I have been so weepy-so tearful- and this idea of the brevity of time has been so fresh in my thoughts that it feels as if it is being seared into my brain. I noticed it at the beginning of the summer- near the time my mom broke her hip. There was a lump that slowly appeared in my throat and really has yet to go away. It has been accompanied by a knot in my stomach and a sense of a somewhat distant sadness and deep longing to hang on tighter to the ones I love as things have come and gone this summer. We have been blessed to spend so much time together with the ones we love- both on trips and even just being in our homes- but each time as those moments of togetherness are nearing their end- that same feeling returns. Even now, as I sit here with my computer in my lap I can feel this feeling of what I can only describe as worn out and torn open. Worn with the sweet taste of love- the tiny glimpse of what Father must have meant by "heaven on earth".  I have been loved on by my kids and my family and grown to love them even more. I have loved so hard that I feel like the Velveteen Rabbit described as he was becoming "real". I feel torn open- both from the relapsing memories of how quickly time is passing and just how little I can do to slow it down. I think back to memories that felt as if they were happening yesterday and realize that my children were half a year younger...and those moments JUST happened!
Currently what is freshest on my mind is the soon to be "see you later" as we wave goodbye to part of our family and they board a plane for another country. We don't actually know when we will see them again but can say with certainty that it will probably be a few years. Years- that makes me swallow hard- years. Our children will be different humans the next time they hug each other- years.

There is usually a moment that happens during the summer-usually a moment that happens on a vacation (probably because my eyes are a bit more open during vacation to see the amazing things our kids are doing) but it is usually a moment that sticks with me. It is like a mental photograph I capture and then it is almost as if Holy Spirit uses it to speak to me over and over again. This moment happened a few weeks ago while we were in the mountains on a family trip. For lots of reasons this year's trip up to the mountains proved to be a more difficult week than in years past. We had made our trek down to the area playground and I found myself gazing and watching the children playing without giving much thought to anything. Suddenly- the laughter and booming squeals of our kiddos captured my attention and I looked up to see my son playing in a world fully submerged in his imagination while climbing and swinging and playing in a way he never had. There was no fear- no fear of falling- no fear of rejection- no fear of it coming to an end- no fear of the bumps and bruises that were just around the corner. He was shining brightly as though to say "I am a little image bearer of my maker" and through his adventure seeking and trusting childlike faith he caused his mama to catch her breath. Oh to be that free and that alive- oh to be a child.

Vacations are over, summer is winding down, and the next "thing" has yet to be planned. We are on the cusp of settling in for the new school year- which both ties us down and yet comes up empty. Mundane living is upon us- so what do we do? I know what my flesh wants to do- it is to plan the next thing, dig out the calendar and fill it up. My flesh pattern is to strive to fill in the gaps that are uneasy and unspoken for- but my spirit- my spirit longs for much more.

One evening, while sitting on the old rocking chair front porch of our house in the mountains, I chatted with family while holding back tears as I thought about the nearing of saying goodbye. As I sat there and rocked I could feel the heaviness of nerves and sadness weighing down on me like a thousand pounds. It felt crushing- almost hard to breathe. I felt the fear of what-ifs and I don't want to's. And then the sweet Holy Spirit came rushing over me and reminded me of the truth.

The truth- this is not our home. This is not heaven. This is not what our hearts long for- for what our hearts long for can only be found in Jesus. I can grasp at the ones I love, I can cling to the memories and moments that are dear, I can plan and fill my days until the brim of activities are spilling over, I can fill my calendar with more to do's to make more memories- ease the pain of goodbyes- make the weeks pass quicker- but you know what? None of this will satisfy. Jesus and only Jesus will satisfy for what our hearts long.

At the end of the day I will rest and trust. I will seek to be the child I saw on the playground this summer- full of wonder and adventure- free from fear. I will walk through our mundane and sometimes boring days with my hands as wide open as possible (and as best I can) and trust the Lord with how he has purposed my steps. As lovely as the memories are with the ones we love- I will fight to believe that what is to come- the place that Jesus has gone on before us to prepare- the glory that our eyes have yet to behold- will surpass my wildest dreams and that we will be more alive with Him than with anything this earth has to offer. For He is for us and we are a child of the living God- and that is something that warms the heart- even on the coldest days.

                     Full of wonder- full of life

  

 A true rocking chair front porch 

The desire of an itch on our 7th year of marriage

Seven years

Seven years since we looked one another eye to eye and made a promise both to each other and to God, to love, to hold, to cherish each other for as long as we are breathing this side of heaven. Seven years since we danced to a song that I can't recall, cut into a cake to which I do not remember the taste, and seven years since we dashed to our getaway car under an canopy of twinkling lights.

Today marks seven years of marriage for Chris and me. Year seven- the "hardest" year- the year of the "itch"- the year that can " break you".  A lot has taken place in our short little seven years of togetherness. New jobs, new houses, surgeries, babies, more surgeries, mental health illness, physical illness, financial stressors, and a lot more during the in-betweens.

Today, as I reflect on our marriage, I do so while sitting in yet another doctor's office. I sit and think while I receive an infusion treatment to what feels to be a last effort to treat an ever encroaching fatigue and unwell-ness that has been plaguing my body and effecting our marriage and family for quite some time now. I watch the tiny drops fall from the bag into the IV line and I am hopeful. Hopeful that this will help- that I will feel energy and have a vigor within my body that has been missing for so long. I hope with great expectation that this will magically repair all the damaged parts of my body and that I will be restored once again to that young bride who desperately longs for her husband. I watch and hope that my mind will finally be in place of lasting peace- a peace that overcomes fears and silences the evil one's voice. I long for rest- the kind of rest that restores the soul and empowers one to fight the good fight. 


As the bag empties out and the sweet nurse unhooks me, she asks me how I feel. My response- "fine". I feel just fine- as fine as I did when I walked in- as fine as I will probably feel for the remainder of the day. Nothing dramatic, nothing much different- other than the slight uneasy stomach and lightheadedness- neither of which are new. I am reminded that this treatment takes time. That these infusions are to be repeated weekly for a while and that it takes time to feel differently. I respond with an "okay". And it really is okay. For what I am longing cannot be found in the bag of an IV. For what I am longing cannot be found in more money, romance, children who are more obedient, a cleaner house, a deeper sleep, or anything the world has to offer. For what I am longing is something that is created and given by the creator and the giver.

I return home to two precious youngsters who are so eager to see me as I walk in the door and are just as frustrated with me within the same moment for taking away the television remote. I return home to a husband who is diligently working for our family so that those "financial stressors" I mentioned will be a little less of a stressor. I return home to laundry, dishes, and needs that are relentless and have to be met all the while remembering in the back of my mind that this is year seven.

We will go about our day as normal. We will fall into bed just as exhausted as the day before and we will awaken in our new year of marriage. It will not be a dreaded year. While it may be our toughest year (time will tell) it will not be the year that breaks us. But will it be a year of itch? To that I say a resounding YES!

I am itching now- yearning now- craving now- but not for another- not for a new romance- not for something different- I am itching for an ever deepening longing for my Savior. I itch for a closeness to Jesus that is unfathomable. I crave a peace that is unmatched and a faith that is unwavering. My heart aches for the things unseen- for the hope of Christ that has yet to be revealed- for what my eyes cannot imagine and what my heart cannot understand.

The trials of this life may hang around or they may go. They will and have surely come- but my hope is in Jesus-for He is the giver and sustainer of life both here and forever.

So as the day winds down- I will itch- I will itch to crawl even deeper into the lap of my Lord and learn to trust Him more and I will fall asleep while holding the hand of the one whom my heart loves as best it can- and by the grace of God we will plow into year seven and hold fast to the promises of our God.

And to my honey- I love you. Happiest of anniversaries.

Stickyfingers + Softhearts

There are tiny moments in this life. Moments that seem to pass as quickly as they come. Tiny moments filled by tiny humans that really are not tiny at all. Whether it is the soft whimper of a toddler boy after receiving an unfair and harsh word from his mama or the smear of pancake syrup down the glass patio door- these insignificant minutes all add up to very significant moments. As I reflect on the little person inside that toddler's body- that little soul- I realize just how soft is his heart. As I reflect on the messy glass door and the hands that need to be wiped-yet again- I realize just how remarkable are those sticky fingers. The heart of that boy is one that was woven, designed, and softened by the Father for such a time- so that His grace could be on display. Her little sticky fingers were created and imprinted with the image of the Father for a great and mighty purpose.

Lord Jesus, I am unworthy yet called, weak yet strong, ill-equipped yet perfected in these tiny moments. Help me to take advantage of the tender interactions with these children-for they are a gift and a privilege- sticky fingers and all.