Advent Joy

I had the pleasure of writing this reflection piece on Psalm 145 for the Advent Devotional my church presented this year. So I thought I'd share it here with you, too. May we each take a moment today to savor, reflect, and remember the joy gift of our Savior King!

 

“They will celebrate your abundant goodness 

and joyfully sing of your righteousness.” (v.7) 

In the midst of all the merriment, sometimes the Christmas seasons stirs awareness of our longings, our lack. Maybe you are still looking for that job. Maybe that Christmas bonus didn’t come through. Maybe spinning your wheels to secure the best department store deals has left your soul spinning, too. Maybe the strained relationships in your life have left you feeling separated from your Savior. Maybe all that feels abundant is your need.

Scripture assures us that the Lord is “loving toward all he has made” (v.13) and that he satisfies the desires of every living thing (v.16). What amazing promises! But what if that doesn’t just pertain to the desires you are waiting for God to fulfill? What if his abundant goodness is being poured out in your life every day?

The key to experiencing God’s awesome works is not to wait until life feels good. The key is to exalt him, praise him, and celebrate him today! When we take God’s Word as Truth and believe that, regardless of how we feel, he IS good, his ways ARE faithful, and his works ARE wonderful, then we can begin to see the evidence all around us.

A message from a friend with just the words your heart needed to hear. The sound of raining thrumming a winter symphony on your roof. A flickering candle, light dancing on the wall, apple spice aroma filling the house. The assurance that every failure and regret has been wiped away by the Savior’s atoning sacrifice—the Messiah born in the manger. These are all gifts from the perfect Giver, just a few reasons to sing joyfully to the King!

Ponder:
What evidence of God’s abundant goodness can you praise him for today?

Prayer:
“Holy God, you are so worthy of my praise and adoration! Please grow in me an awe of who you are and how you are working in my life so that my heart may overflow with joy and thanksgiving. Amen.”

Mud for My Selfishness

I don't want to admit it...

But some days, my kids feel like a burden. Some moments, mothering feels more like a chore. I feel irritated, inconvenienced, put out.

I don't want to admit it, really I don't...but some days the the overflow of my heart is not love and kindness and joyful training for my boys.

I like to rationalize these icky feelings. I mean, who wouldn't feel weary after six days of solo parenting while your husband is out of town? Who wouldn't be a little downtrodden from the demands of meeting the constant, unrelenting needs of three rambunctious boys? My feelings of wanting a little space, a little peace and quiet are valid, right? Plus, fill a tank that's depleted of patience with a healthy dose of PMS and who's gonna blame me for feeling like a I just want to play hookie from this mothering gig for half a day?

I just want an easy day. A day where my 4, 3, and 1 year old will all play perfectly, peacefully, without supervision so I can sit and just be. (If you have even one small child, you know that's not gonna happen, let alone with a trifecta of tiny testosteronies.)

These reasons may be understandable, even justifiable. 

But the real reason for my icky feelings about motherhood today is because I am selfish. 

As soon as I acknowledged this truth, the root of my struggle, I knew the way out.

The way to combat selfishness is to choose an act of selflessness.

 So with a small huff and a sigh, that's what I did.

And today selfless meant mud.

 

Letting my boys be boys. Down and dirty.

Mud squished between fingers. Caked in every crack.

I had to let go of my desire for control, convenience, ease. And as I laid down my desires for the sake of their delight, I found myself delighting, too.

Instead of feeling stuck in my weariness, condemned by my selfishness, I started to feel the warmth of the sun's shining rays.

I began to feel joy for the boyhood discoveries my little men were making.

I knew there would be clothes and shoes and toys, not to mentioned three filthy little boys, that would need scrubbing and demudding. But maybe there was beauty to be found even in dark dirt crusted on denim, ground into soles.

Yes, my soul was stirred with new life at the lavish boyish love for nature's gifts: an avocado, a tree, a root.

Maybe the mud was exactly what their precious souls needed today.
Maybe exactly what mine needed it, too.

From Blah to Blessed

My autumn mantel is still in tact. We're moving in a week and a half, so it just doesn't make sense to pull out the Christmas decor. I'm longing for my sweet evergreen and holly berry wreath, but I guess there's an upside to being stuck in a decorating holding pattern...

Because I'm still seeing this every day:

 

Yesterday was a blah day. Ever have one of those?

I just felt blah. Bluck. Stuck. In a funk.

I felt blah for the constant raucous noise of boys. Blah for changing yet another diarrhea diaper. Blah for the broken garbage disposal and clogged up sink with breakfast oatmeal floaties. Blah for people I love going through seasons of deep pain. Just blah.

And then I read these words. "In everything give thanks." 

Everything...it's so vague. I see it every day. Say it every day. But sometimes the meaning gets lost on me.

So what would it mean if I replaced the vague with the specific?

In the chaos give thanks.

In the sickness give thanks.

In the mundane mama tasks give thanks.

In the broken appliances, small set-backs, temporary inconveniences give thanks.

In the seasons of praying for the seasons of pain give thanks.

Yes, making it specific makes the difference. Giving of thanks for specific things helped turn my blahs into blessings. 

But what's so blessed about a hum-drum-bummed kind of regular mommy-in-a-funk day? 

Blessed because every day is a gift! Every moment is a gift, if I choose to see it and GIVE THANKS for it. I'm NOT perfect at it. But God IS perfecting me through it. 

And living in the center of God's will is ALWAYS a blessing, isn't it?

(Did you know that to Give Thanks IS the Will of God?!)

"In every thing give thanks, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." -1 Thessalonians 5:18

So I gave thanks.

Gave thanks for this little munchkin whose clothes I had to change 4 times.

Thank you, God, for Jude's smile!

 

Thank you, God, for a little boy and his big bucket! 

Thank you, God, for eyes that shine and crumbs on lips! 

And I thanked God for my pirate and my super hero. 

For the grace to let three boys eat lunch on the couch.

 

Thank you, God, for brothers. 

Thank you for not leaving me in my blahs, 

but helping me see what "everything" is:

Gift. Beauty. Grace.

Everything is Your unfailing love. 

Jesus in my bathroom

I sat on the edge of the cold porcelain bathtub. Hot water pounding out of the shower head into the empty tub. Steam slowly filled the bathroom.

I rocked Jude and prayed the warm misty air would soothe his lungs and offer some relief.

Why does croup always hit in the middle of the night? Why does it have to steal my sleeping babe and replace him with a barking seal imposter?

My 17 month old fussed and fidgeted on my lap. He held my hairbrush and his brother's lime green squirt bottle until he chucked them on the floor in protest of being sick and tired.

My heavy eyelids begged to close, but Jude needed a few more minutes of steamy therapy.

So I began to sing.

The usual soothing bedtime tunes...Jesus Loves Me gave way to Gentle Shepherd which ushered in a chorus of As the Deer.

Then without a conscious thought or decision, I found the words of Silent Night pouring from my lips.

Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright.

Jude's little jammied body snuggled into mine and his breathing settled.

It was barely November and Christmas was hardly on my radar. But there in my steam-filled bathroom with dingy grout and a pile of little boys' discarded dirty clothes crumpled on the floor, the words of this classic Christmas carol washed over my heart.

I imagined how the air in that stable where the Christ child was born might have also been thick and steamy from the sweat of labor, the hot breath of animals, the stench of manure. I thought about how this sweet melodic song was really depicting a story that, to the mother living it, could not have been nearly as picturesque as our postcards and nativty scene figurines might make us believe.

I have given birth three times in a hospital (twice with drugs) and, let's be honest, it was not a pretty picture. How might my new mother horror have been magnified had I been laying on dirty straw instead of a sterile hospital bed with my virgin-delivery husband catching my babe instead of a seasoned doctor?

Silent night. Holy night. 
All is calm, all is bright. 
Round young virgin, mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace! Sleep in heavenly peace.

After the chaos and confusion of birth there was this Holy child. A Holy child whose presence must have masked his mother's pain, who made that smelly stable holy, too.

Heaven's peace filled that otherwise ordinary space. 

Glories stream from heaven above
Heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah

And God whispered to my heart,

I love you. I am here, filling THIS musty, ordinary room. My heavenly peace is available to you, too. I am Holy. Praise me for my holiness!

I didn't want to be pulled from the comfort of my cozy bed and restful slumber to care for a sick child. But, oh, what a gift it turned out to be!

Because there in my steamy bathroom, Jesus showed up.

And my heart was filled with joy. Not happiness for circumstance. But joy for Christ.

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord at thy birth.
Jesus, Lord at thy birth!

Wiped Away

Do you ever feel like an entire day of good parenting is wiped away by one bad mom moment?

The homemade wholewheat and oatmeal chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast—erased.

The living room fort you built, the sprawled-out jigsaw puzzles you guided, the choo choo train you constructed—voided.

The way you kept your cool when you discovered the four year old had stolen gum out of your purse and distributed the sweet and sticky treats to his brothers—undone.

The wrestling and cuddling, the singing silly songs while dancing delirium until little boys wrapped round your waist squealed in delight, the lunch making and floor sweeping and diaper changing, the giving children quiet playtime so they could see you quiet your soul to commune with your Savior—ever feel like ALL of it was negated by one negative moment?

If you have, you're not alone.

Because today, that's how I feel. 

I feel like it was all for nothing because in one moment where the baby was screaming because I wouldn't let him stand on the arm of the couch and his biggest brother was sulking over not being allowed to watch another show and then the middle one tried to pick up the screaming baby around the neck and he wouldn't release his headlock vice grip when I sternly instructed him to LET GO, in that one moment, I lost it.

The yell vibrated from my belly and the anger shot fiery darts from my eyes and I put the child with the big deer eyes roughly on the couch and told him over and over how bad and dangerous and mean that was until hot tears were pouring down his satin pillow cheeks all flushed with shame and fear.

And then I cried, too.

Cried I'm sorry, please forgive me.

Cried it to my son. Cried it to the Son.

Elias wouldn't let go of his brother quickly enough. And I was too quick to let go of my God.

...Recently I wrote about grace. How all the sweet and meaningful blessings that fill up our days are God's sweet grace in our lives. But the thing is, grace is not just about the blessings. It's also about the belonging. 

Grace is God never letting go.

  
I felt like all the good and fun, precious and purposeful moments in my day were wiped away by one moment of rage.

But thankfully how I feel isn't always what is true.

Because the truth is, what's really been wiped away is my sin. And He remembers it no more.

Five Minute Friday: Grace

It's seeing 49 pop up on the airline scale when 50 lbs is the checked-bag limit.

It's dying to read her story because you couldn't get it out of your mind, and then finding the divine tale among the treasure loot in the best swag bag--the perfect airplane reading for the twelve hour journey home.

It's being convinced that the red and black stowaway crayolas ruined an entire load of laundry and then finding a post about how to get the crayon out and the crazy method actually worked!

It's your husband coming home early on the one afternoon he had to himself because he knew that boys smashing raw eggs under the dining room table made you come undone.

It's tears of joy over an ordinary trip to Costco turned extraordinary.

It's losing your mind to brothers bickering and then catching the biggest one cuddling the littlest.

It's praying for two years for the perfect house, the bigger house, while trying to be content in the smallness where the baby has to sleep in the bathroom because there's just no other room... and then once content, receiving the home long desired.

It's hearing the raspy words birthed from the three-year-old's soul that "You're my bestest mommy ever"--words that don't remember you lost your patience at all things boyish and yelled at those sweet boys.

It's clear blue skies and warm October breezes. 

It's baby eyelashes long and dark. It's afternoons swinging with friends in the park.

It's hot peppermint tea and the Word in a quiet house.

It's a friend who really knows even though you're just getting to know her.

It's hot showers, water pounding calm down your back. It's Jesus standing in the gap for everything you lack.

It's every time He makes beauty out of the mess, every time He gives more when you deserve much less. It's the light when you thought there would only be dark. It's the gift that gives joy's fullest spark.

Grace is cream in my coffee. Hugs tight around my neck. It's being okay with being a wreck.

 Fall leaves in every autumnal hue. Forgiveness for me. Forgiveness for you.

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This post is part of Lisa-Jo's fabulous Five Minute Fridays. Come check it out.

 

I can tell you by living it.

I’m 30,000 feet above the sprawled out landscape of low-ridged mountains, mocha land covered in winding tan veins of deep ravines. Somewhere over southern New Mexico, I think. Somewhere in between my journey from Greenville, South Carolina back home to Glendora, California.

I look out the oval window next to my F27 seat, watching wispy white clouds stretched like cotton, and I wonder…

Where do I start in telling the story of how God used one evening of dish washing procrastination to set in motion a four-day adventure on the other side of the country that would stir my heart and change my life in ways I had dared not dream?

How do I fully describe the wonder of God’s incredible provision of finances and childcare and prayers that followed his miracle of a ticket to a sold-out conference?

How can I completely capture the beauty and splendor of being in a room of 450 women who follow hard after God even when it’s hard because they are captivated by their Maker, compelled to love their Creator and all whom He created?

How can I craft the right word pictures so that you can see the God-glory of hands held high in praise, the God-grace of hearts bowed low in surrender, the God-gratitude of faces shining Jesus-light in overflowing joy?

 

How can I convey the thrill of hearing the humble yet radiant Ann Voskamp speak live words of poetry and passion, power and truth? Or the delight of a divine encounter in the hotel lobby where Sarah Markley went from my writer’s inspiration on a page to a gracious friend in real life? Or the blessing of having God’s women pray over me, women like Rici, Shelly, and Laura, who started out as strangers and ended up as soul-sisters I wish I could hug and live life with every day?

How can I impart to you the impact of Allume?

The answer is, I can’t. Not fully. Not the way my heart is bursting to.

But I can tell you this:

I went to Allume to learn more about blogging. To be encouraged in my craft. To be equipped to execute. To be around like-hearted women who use their love of words to fulfill their Kingdom call.

And God was gracious to accomplish those things.

But what I really learned is that it’s not about growing my readership, it’s about growing my relationship with the Holy God.

It’s not about increasing my blog traffic, it’s about increasing my trust in Him.

It’s not about perfecting my writing, it’s about pursuing the only perfect Writer.

Scheduling my next post means nothing if I don’t first seek His face.

Allume: Real Light Living.

How can I tell you what Allume meant to me?

It will take time. Time to live it. 

Live real life while seeking His face so that I can shine His light.

So that's what I’ll do. And as I do, I’ll continue to share and celebrate the moments that make up the journey.

Creating Beauty

Last night I had planned to joyfully do laundry and worshipfully wash dishes...but then I saw this free printable at A Holy Experience and instead was stirred to create something beautiful.

 

1 Thessalonians 5:18 has been a theme verse for my life for the past year, plus with Autumn now upon us and all things pumpkin spice and thankful grace compelling my senses to savor this season, I knew right when I saw this beautiful sign I had to display it in my home as a beacon for continuing to count each moment as a gift.

So I was inspired to do a Fall mantle makeover!

This is what it looked like before...

 

Now, since my creative stirring came at 9 pm last night with my husband out of town and a house full of sleeping boys, a trip to Target or Michael's was not going to be possible. So I decided to "shop" my own home, scavenging cupboards and collecting decor from different rooms in the house.

And this is what I came up with...

 

I got out the tall ladder in the garage and retrieved this lovely leaf wreath from the rafters. (I store it with my Christmas decorations and every year I kick myself for not remembering to get it out in the fall...and this year I remembered. Yah!!)

Then I put the Give Thanks print in an old picture frame I found in a forgotten cabinet, repositioned the Give Thanks and Blessings Abound blocks (my favorite!), and snagged this sweet birdie tea light holder from the sill above my kitchen sink. Swapped the little framed mirror from the original look with this pretty amber star from another spot in my house. 

And wha-la!!

I think the whole thing came together great. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy and full of thanks to sit on my couch and look at this little collection of beauty.

I love to create. I love beauty. I love to create beauty. 

As I was debating whether or not to share this little joy moment in my life as a post or not, I initially hesisitated at the thought. I mean, a mantle makeover is not spiritually deep or profound...it's just decorating. And is there meaning in that?

And then I heard it. Heard it in a whisper to my heart.

Your love is a reflection of my love. That is who I AM. The Creator of All Things Beautiful. 

And there is always meaning in reflecting ME. 

Five Minute Friday: Laundry

What if I stopped complaining about it?

What if I stopped feeling overwhelmed by it?

What if I stopped being bitter towards it, beat down by it, and bemoaning every time I had to do it?

What if instead...I started to be blessed by it?

Blessed by the never-ending piles and socks without a match and I just want to relax while the kiddos sleep and not have to fold and fold and fold some more?

Yes. Blessed by all of that.

What if I praised God that I have access to hot water and 900 choices of softeners and detergents lining Target's walls?

What is I praised God that I'm not stooping down at a river's edge rubbing fabric between rocks because he's given me a machine in my garage that does the washing for me?

What if every time I folded a little boy's dinosaur t-shirt or knee-worn jeans I thanked God for the strong heart that t-shirt covered, the strong legs that run and crawl and jump and climb each moment of each day in that thinning denim?

What if I took off the shackles of duty and responsibility and put on the garment of thankfulness, gratitude, and all-things-are-grace? 

Whites and darks and towels and sheets and mismatched piles overflowing out of my closet and every  basket in the house. Yep, that's where I'm at today with my laundry.

But instead of begrudging the chore, may I embrace the challenge of choosing to be blessed.


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Love me my Five Minute Fridays with Lisa-Jo! Blessed to be a part of this amazing community of writers who gather each week to write for the love of writing, and then encourage one another for the bravery to do it. You don't have to have a blog to participate! So come check it out!

Five Minute Friday: Ordinary

  
Nothing feels glamorous about searching on your hands and knees for soggy Cheerios trapped in the looped rug beneath the dining room table.

Nothing feels spectacular about setting your timer to go off every 15 minutes so you can take your toddler (who may or may not be screaming) to the potty...again.

Nothing feels paramount about performing another rendition of the Alphabet Song in a new accent to keep your kids entertained so you can quickly slap on some makeup to cover the new wrinkles creeping in each day and the dark eye circles that never go away.

Nothing feels significant about making another peanut butter sandwich or quesadilla or blueberry waffle with extra cinnamon sugar sprinkled in the "dragon caves."

Nothing feels impactful about kissing another booboo or breaking up another fight, about singing the same bedtime song 12 times in one night or helping rebuilding that block tower until it's just right.

Nothing feels important about changing diapers, brushing teeth, buckling seat belts, or wiping tears, bottoms, and noses.

Nothing feels life-changing about soothing middle-of-the-night bad dreams or satisfying pleas for just one more drink of water please. Or reminding for the thousandth time DO NOT put toys in the light socket or lock you brother in the bathroom or pick up the baby or pick your nose.

Nothing about mud and boogers and pee and poop and vomit and who-knows-what is caked on your shirt and stuck under you nails feels marvelously magnificent or remotely meaningful in the big picture of life. 

But that's the magic.

How we feel doesn't dictate what actually is.

And the thing is...all this seemingly ordinary stuff makes being a mother anything but.


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Come on over to Five Minute Friday to see what others are writing about "ordinary."