{moments}

Moments.
That's what I've been learning about this summer.
This season of life has found me stifled in some ways.
As one who deeply values family time and all of us together,
it felt awkward and unfaithful to plan things with only four of the five of us present.
And so I didn't.
I thought that in some way I was preserving something from the past;
that I was protecting our identity as a family of five.

But I wasn't really living---
and certainly not living with joy.

The other night my husband spontaneously suggested we go mini-golfing.
My heart resisted, as our oldest college-age son was away for the week,
and mini-golf has always been something we do together as a family.
And yet I had just noted to my husband earlier that here it was mid-July, and I still hadn't crossed off anything from our summer bucket list.
I was waiting for the right time,
waiting for everyone to be home,
waiting for yesterday.

And so we went.
Four of us (and my parents).
And we laughed.
And we talked smack.
And I putted poorly.
And we ate ice cream.
And we made new memories.

Again I remembered what God has been impressing on my heart:
life isn't made solely of big, planned vacations.
It consists not of destinations or all chairs filled around the table or big stretches of family togetherness.
Certainly, those are all good.
And those have been part of what's given us identity and brought us to where now stand---
grounded and secure and tight.
But with a college-age son and two more who will follow suit before we know it,
life is changing.
It's different than ever before.
Boys have watched and learned and grown through all of our yesterdays.
And now they're showing themselves men.
They're working and stretching and rising to meet challenges.
God is shaping their hearts to love and lead and sacrifice.
He's expanding their spheres and their worlds and their influence.
It's good.
And it's as it should be.

The truth is,
our numbers are going to continue to dwindle around these here parts (before, Lord-willing, building back up again).  :)
The planned traditions of our past may change and transition and be a pale reflection of what we once knew.
But I'm learning to be grateful for the unplanned, surprise, grace-filled moments that catch me unaware and breathless---
like when after a week apart, God unexpectedly and graciously returned everyone home within 5 minutes of one another and we all eagerly shared all that had taken place since we were last together.
Grace.
Or the next week, when everyone was finally reunited at 11:30pm on a Sunday night.
And I caught the sparkle in my son's eyes sparkle when he saw me.
And we---all five of us---gathered 'round the table to see pictures of his week away.
And as we were catching up and sharing adventures and stories and hearts,
the music already playing transitioned to "Life Is Beautiful."
And I cried for the sheer joy of it.
For I was reminded that when all is changing and rearranging and transitioning,
God sees and knows my heart.
He's given us the gift of these ordinary moments.
And I cupped my hands open to receive them with grateful joy.

"...I will rejoice in the Lord;

I will take joy in the God of my salvation."

Habakkuk 3:18

thanks...right here

I was tremendously blessed to read this blog entry earlier this year, and even more blessed to worship with Shannon Wexelberg at the Revive '13:  Women Helping Women Conference last month.

As we transition into this Thanksgiving season, we're so prone to thank God for physical and relational blessings, for answered prayers, for things going our way.  I am so challenged and encouraged by this beautiful reminder that even in the midst of the pain, the difficulty, and the situation we never would have chosen for ourselves, we can give thanks.  Right here.

For in the dark hours---in the valleys of infertility and loss and change---God has drawn me so close to His heart.  I've come to know Him in ways I never had before.  I'm so very mindful of all I would have missed had it not been for those hard times.  He's here, dear one.

Read Shannon's blog post, download her song, and be blessed!

Oh, and here's a short video featuring a bit of her song and her story:

{invested}

March 13:

This afternoon I did something I've not done in more than 20 years.

I filled out a job application.

It's hard to put into words the depth of feeling and emotion that filled my heart upon doing so.  I frequently had to pause as the tears were clouding my vision.  At one desperate moment, I even called Jon and cried, "I don't know how to do this!"  Most recent employment?  1994.  Skills?  Gifts?  Education?  I don't have a formal degree.  I don't have an impressive resume.  I've simply been loving and pouring into these guys God has entrusted to me.  And Jon reminds me that that's exactly what's needed; that He's going to somehow use the passions and gifts He's stirred up in me over these years and use them in some crazy way.  I want to believe him.  

I can still feel the angst in my heart that cold winter afternoon.  Applying for a job was not only scary, but emotionally strenuous, as it indicated the end of a season (in case I'd forgotten based upon all the other season-ending reminders).  *grin*

Sometimes I genuinely believe that God looks down upon my disbelief and just chuckles.  "Oh, my child," He whispers.  "Don't you know I've got this?  You spend so much energy worrying and fretting, all the while forgetting I have your ultimate good in mind.  Just watch what I'm going to do..."

About 12 or 13 years ago, my girlfriends and I began meeting for weekly Bible study.  We were all at similar stages in life, and we wanted nothing more than for God to captivate our hearts in such a way that our families would receive the overflow.  As we read "A Woman After God's Own Heart" by Elizabeth George, we were encouraged to develop 5 fat files.  These 5 fat files were to be a purposeful means through which we grew in specific areas God had placed on our hearts.  The idea was to develop a fat file for each of five topics, and then commit ourselves to filling those files.  For example, topics might include counseling, hospitality, teaching, Bible study, parenting, organization---any area we were interested in growing.  Anytime we came across an article or newsclipping or picture about that topic, we put it in our file.  In fact, Pinterest might be the modern day version of this!  The point was that over time, we’d become well-versed, better trained, and further prepped in these particular areas.  We all had young children.  We all sometimes thought we’d always have young children.  Yet as we nurtured and poured into them, we continued to pursue knowledge and grow in our personal walks with Christ.  We intentionally sought to grow in areas He’d imprinted on our hearts. Among mine were marriage * motherhood * hospitality.

I didn't think much about it till a few months ago.  Yes, I’d been intentional in various areas over the years.  I’d dug in and researched and developed passions.  And all these years later, it’s these exact topics that continue to fill me and excite me---those that God has wired me to do.

And you want to know what else He did?  I'm still marveling....still can't believe it.

After filling out the initial application and interviewing for an office position at our church (something I did pre-kids; something I could do, have done, but wasn't passionate about), I heard words I wasn't prepared to hear:  our church had long discussed the need to hire a hospitality coordinator, and the time had now come.  Would I apply for that position?

What?  Really?  My love for people, my heart to make them feel welcome, my passion to create an environment where it's impossible not to reflect on God's grace, my all-out love of cooking and catering, planning and organizing events, and decorating?  Could it be any more perfect? Any more of God?

God has used and invested these past 19 years in deep, rich, life-giving ways.  It's a reminder, mamas, that as we're obedient in the seemingly small, sometimes mundane, tasks of day-to-day life; giving up our lives for the little ones in our care; nurturing and pouring into the ones so graciously entrusted to us, God is changing and teaching us, as well.  Our boys have taught me endless lessons---what it is to love unconditionally, forgive with abandon, and embrace each and every season as a gift, to name a few. And if all that weren't enough, among the seemingly ordinary ebb and flow, God has been richly, abundantly, surprisingly preparing me for the next season:  instilling gifts, stirring up passions, and priming me for fruitful ministry.

I wipe away tears as I consider it.
How loving.
How perfect.
How God.

P.S. I was offered the job and I begin July 1.  

{snapshots}

"Journal it," she said.  "Take notes, tuck it all away: how you feel, what you're thinking."

That was a dear friend's advice as May dawned.  Hugging me at the first "senior" festivity of many this month, she spoke with wisdom.  She'd been down this road before...twice.  She knew the joy, the angst, the pride, the dread, the thankfulness---all rolled up into one unpredictable, sometimes confusing tangled mass of emotions.

So here are some of the snapshots I've tucked away this month. With our firstborn's graduation just 2 days away, my heart is  overflowing as I reflect on so many precious moments...

"Salute to Seniors."  After hosting and participating in this annual event at our church for so many years, this year was intensely personal.  Spying our son practicing with the worship team before it started, the realization hit hard.  He's graduating.  

Making music with his friend as he's done sooo many times before.  These two go waaaay back.  Toothless smiles, birthday parties, and baseball games flashed through my mind as I watched them jam together once again.  Oh, I'm so thankful for the enduring, godly friendships God has provided our son throughout these years.

Mother's Day.  I've always treasured it, but all the more this year.  Having my sons near is a gift I've so often taken for granted.  But not this year.  I breathed in and inhaled them.  I recognized that I may not be enveloped in the embrace of all our sons next year.  Perhaps our oldest won't be able to make it home.  Oh, and I've discovered I take delight in being the shortest one in the family with these strong, mighty oaks towering above me.  I marvel at the way God is growing them inside and out.

His band's gig.  Our boys are all so different---gifted and talented in varying ways.  Our firstborn is the only musical one among them.  As a matter of fact, that's one of the things I'll miss most when he goes to college:  the absence of live music in our home. He and his friends formed a band in Jr. High.  Through frequent name changes, its message remained the same.    I felt that this particular concert was a special gift just for me.  In a month of almost constant running, it felt good to pause and be still; to worship along with this boy-grown-man.

Spring Pops Concert.  His last concert.  Surreal. Our son had told me months ago that the concert chorale would be singing Switchfoot's "Only Hope" at their spring concert.  As they sang this song of declaration to God, I sang along in my heart:  

And I lay my head back down

And I lift my hands and pray

To be only Yours

I pray to be only Yours

I know now You're my only hope

Capstone.  It's a long-standing tradition at our sons' high school that a requirement of one's senior year is to do a Capstone project.  Students research a social or cultural issue of their choice, conduct interviews, participate in field work, write a 12-page paper, and then present their findings for a defense panel.  Finally, after all this, we celebrate (and finally breathe) at the long-awaited Capstone celebration.  As our son desires to be a worship pastor one day, he chose to explore "The Worship War," examining both traditional and contemporary worship.  I was struck by his maturity, passion, and wisdom.  I watched him interact with spectators at his booth, confidently (yet humbly) answering questions, respecting viewpoints, looking adults in the eye, and sharing his heart for worship.  Really?  I get to be this guy's mom?  Sometimes it still floors me.

Night of Recognition.  It was the presentation of scholarships and awards---a fun night of celebration.  As I sat there, God gave me a nudge.  He confirmed in my heart that our son really is ready for this new season.  So often I view (and treat) him as my little boy of yesterday.  My eyes truly have been opened this month.  He's wise and steady; a man of integrity and virtue.  I marvel at the work God is doing in him and the ways it's so clearly evident by the fruit in his life.  

Night after night this week, we've enjoyed late night heart to heart talks with our son.  Just the three of us.  I hadn't expected that.  It's been an extraordinary gift.  Grace.  I also hadn't expected the tears that threaten nowhere at the craziest moments.  Like tonight in the grocery store.  I was shopping for items to pack for the boys' lunches tomorrow.  And it suddenly hit that it's the last school  lunch I'll ever pack for our son.  Pushing my cart through the dairy section of the grocery store, the tears slipped down my cheeks.  Yet as God imprinted on my heart many times and in many ways this month, all is grace.  I'm welcoming the moments, rejoicing in breathing and loving and aching, all evidences of grace.

"Don't grieve that it's gone, wonder that it was.

Laugh that you lived and dance that you dared.

Inhale that it happened---and it was grace."

~ Ann Voskamp

{my watercolour ponies}

When I was an impressionable, young high school girl,
Wayne Watson came out with an album that had a tremendous impact on my heart.
Though I was several years away from marrying or having children, his song Watercolour Ponies struck a chord with me.
And though I couldn't yet fully understand,
the message went down deep and penetrated my soul.

It rang in my heart when I became a mama, when I was gifted with those first primitive drawings from our son.
Though inside my head I was twisting and turning and trying to make sense of the rough drawing before me, outside I was smiling and thanking our son for a gift well done.
It took a place of honor on our fridge.
And I remembered.

Over the years, the drawings developed more shape.
The boys' heartfelt sentiments accompanied them.
With each drawing,
each painting they created,
I wanted to soak it all in.
Because as I'd heard so many years before,
those pictures would one day disappear,
as well as the little hands that made them.

I was delighted when I discovered a Watercolour Ponies picture book.
Snuggling with our boys on the couch,
reading its sentiments,
I longed for them to understand their value;
to understand how deeply they were loved and wanted.
I hoped they'd understand that even when they rode away many years from then, they knew without question that the foundation of their home was safe and secure;
that warm arms of love would always be extended to them in a place where their dad and mom loved them,
loved each other,
and most of all, loved Jesus.

It's been more than 25 years since I first heard the song that,
in many ways, would give perspective and balance to my mothering of boys.
The days that once stretched before me---seemingly endlessly---have accelerated at breakneck speed,
and now we're on the cusp of watching that first watercolour pony ride away.
But as we prepare to launch and release our sons, one at a time, my heart takes joy and courage in knowing that, by God's grace,we've sought to---imperfectly, I might add---invest and make the most of these days;
to love and extol Truth, direct eyes to Jesus, and model satisfaction in Him.
And as our boys begin to ride away, it's God who will finish the work He began in them;
it's God who will use our sons to leave a mark on this world that will cause others to see Him alone.

But, baby, what will we do
When it comes back to me and you?
They look a little less 
Like little boys every day
Oh, the pleasure of watching
The children growing
Is mixed with a bitter cup
Of knowing the watercolour ponies
Will one day ride away

And the vision can get so narrow
As you view through your tiny world
And little victories can go by
With no applause
But in the greater evaluation
As they fly from your nest of love
May they mount up with wings
As eagles for His cause

Life Is Beautiful

It's a night I'll treasure always:
one of those magical nights that you can't plan,
can't orchestrate,
can't will into being.

It didn't really start out as such.
After leaving the children's Christmas program at church,
we decided to drive around for our annual viewing of Christmas lights.
And honestly, I was bummed,
as our two older boys had D-(iscipleship) group that night,
so it was just gonna be my husband, youngest son, and me.

These moments seem to come more and more frequently.
My expectations being high,
my inordinate love of tradition preceding all,
my resistance to change bucking like a bronco.
"This isn't the way it was supposed to be," my heart cries.

Our youngest son delights in being the DJ as we drive around.
Luke's preference in music is just like him---
it's fun and energetic with techno vibes.  :)
While I like a lot of it,
I often found myself admonishing him during the Christmas season to play more traditional sounds.
This was especially true as we viewed the Christmas displays that cold December night.

Soon, a familiar sound filled the van.
I turned to stare out the window as the tears filled my eyes and sobs racked my body.
For my Luke, our "feeler,"
prepared a playlist just for his mom.
It was as if he knew exactly what was on my heart and mind.
Ringing through the van were the lyrics to one of my most favorite songs ever---
one that moves me to tears
every. single. time.

And God used our son to remind me that
the sweet, the bitter,
the hellos, the goodbyes,
the gains, the losses,
the routine, the change,
the ordinary, the extraordinary---
all of it is a gift---a tool---in the
hands of a loving Father.
And life is beautiful
because the Author of life is beautiful.

{be strong & courageous}

While my blog has often been a means by which I outwardly process the stuff of life, God has seemingly called me into a quieter season throughout these past few months; a time of quiet pondering, processing, and application.  He's called me to be still...to hush...to simply listen.  As I've often eluded, these months are those of relinquishing control over that which was never mine to begin with; trusting that my God is wholly able and sufficient for each need I face; placing my life and the lives of those I love in His strong arms, fully believing that I can trust Him.

2012.  It's been a banner year in so many ways, filled with many memorable highlights and milestones.  Of course, it's these very highlights and milestones that have often caused my heart to race and my forehead to wrinkle in consternation.  How can one feel so much joy and so much dread all in one swift moment?

You see, this year brought with it milestone birthdays at our house.  Now, birthdays should never be cause for anything but joyful celebration, but squeeze them all together in a few short months?  It's been heart-stretching for this mama, to say the least.

Thirteen came with it the realization that my baby is a teenager, putting away childish things, and entering his final year of homeschooling.  Sixteen brought keys to the car and a state-issued license that says he can drive around with my heart.  And eighteen brought a final birthday "at home" and his final year of high school.  And then there's that whole "40" thing for me (which in truth, I know, is still young, but I'm still grappling with the implications of such a "mature"-sounding number {grin}).  As our youngest begins high school and our oldest begins college next fall, in many ways it feels that my identity, too, is changing.  Oh, and throw in the knowledge that I'll be looking for work for the first time in 19 years!

It's often felt overwhelming...just too much, you know?  I long to put on the brakes; to stop time and simply linger here in our little house; to be surrounded by my babies and embrace the normal I've come to know:  no change, no stretching, no goodbyes.

And yet, despite my best efforts to stop it, time keeps marching on.  Rather than altering my circumstances, God seems to be altering me.  On Tuesday morning, I'm going to wake up to the realization that it's 2013: the year that my comfortable little world gets rocked in at least a dozen different ways (and those are simply the ones I know about)!

Yes, I'm feeling afraid right now.  Yes, I have questions and doubts and uncertainties about what the coming season will look like.  No, I've never released a son before, and despite my longing to walk through this season with grace, I feel like I'm most often fumbling awkwardly and fighting to find my footing.

Yet as my eyes scan the horizon of this brand new year, the bedrock truth is this:  my God is with me.  He goes before me.  And nothing, no nothing, in the past, present, or future will alter His love for me.

And so I cling to Him.  As He commanded Joshua on the brink of an unknown, new season, He commands you and me:

"Be strong and courageous...
only be strong and very courageous...
be strong and courageous.
Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed,
for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."
Joshua 1:6-7, 9

The Ladybug Tower

Little boys dubbed it the Ladybug Tower many years ago.

We usually wait to climb it until the leaves burst out in all their autumn glory.  

But this girl is learning, albeit slowly,

that sometimes you (I) need to flex

and take advantage of whatever opportunity presents itself.

All five of us home and available on Labor Day?

Let's do it!

And so, while it was different than times past,

we were blissfully together.

As we've done so many years before,

we climbed the tower

and took in the sights.

We were even unexpectedly blessed by a bagpiper atop the tower.

And we hiked the purple trail,

the one that---once upon a time---produced little boys with tired legs

and cries to be carried.

Now, strong and able, they blazed the trail before us.

It was a soul-stirring visual for this mama's heart.

Everything is looking a little different these days,

but it's nonetheless glorious and beautiful.  

The Journey

In just over a week, we'll be starting the final leg of the homeschool journey that began in 2000.

Back then---shaky-legged and unsure---all we knew to do was to take the next step.

Despite my best efforts to tell God why it was a bad idea,

He had clearly led us down this road.
It wasn't that this was a better way or the only way---
it was simply the way He was directing our family.

And so with our sons---ages 5, 3, and 1---
and a whole lotta fear and trepidation, we began.

It was hard.

The terrain was rough.

The footing was unsure.

I was easily distracted.

I was looking off and away at what others around me were doing.

I was comparing my walk to theirs.

I second-guessed myself and doubted and feared.

But God simply assured me of His presence.

And He prodded me to take that next step.

When  my foot slipped,

He held me up.

When I was exhausted,

He renewed my strength.

When I was uncertain of my ability,

He reminded me of His sufficiency.

And He blessed.

Somehow---in spite of me---

the boys grew and flourished.

We all did.
Together we learned and gathered the tools needed for life,
building upon our solid foundation.
We didn't do it perfectly.
We made lots of mistakes.
But the journey that once seemed so unending and arduous

became the means by which God ushered in grace and new growth and deep connections.
Oh, it was still rocky and scary at times,
but as God often reminded me,
"He who called you is faithful;
He will surely do it." 1 Thessalonians 5:24
We were desperate for Him and leaning on Him each step of the way.
And He faithfully did what we could not.

Now, with two who have already flown from our little homeschool nest and our last who will take flight a year from now, I shake my head in utter amazement.
The time went so very fast.
But my wistful heart rejoices in the God
who called us and led us and equipped us to
launch our sons with purpose and passion.

Whatever you're facing, reading friends---
whether the journey is winding or rocky or uncertain---
take courage knowing that our God will not abandon you.
If He has called you,
step out in full confidence and obedience,
knowing that He is faithful.
He will surely do it.

Finish the Race

I always enjoy the track and field events in the Olympics.
Somewhere in "Nikki-World," I like to think I relate.
There's that former high school track star in me that would like to believe that with just a little more effort,
that could have been me.

A girl can dream, right?

But seriously, each time I watch the women's 100 or 200-meter dash---
or better yet, the 400-meter dash or 4 X 400-meter relay---
I grow rather nostalgic.
My own stories of glory---
or more accurately, the fall from it---
come pouring out.

It was my first track meet ever.
Excitement was high,
nerves were scattered every which direction,
and an eager little crowd of family members and supporters had come to cheer me on.

I was somewhat rattled when,
upon lining up for the 100-meter dash,
I discovered starting blocks in each lane.
What?
We'd never run out of starting blocks in track practice!
How did this work?
What was the feel?
I had no clue what I was doing.

I attempted to look confident
and hold my shaking body steady.
As I crouched into position in eager anticipation of the gun going off,
my one concern was how awkward I must look.
Shoving those fears aside,
I tensed in readiness.

*BAM!*

As the gun went off,
my body sprung into action.
It was not, however,
the action that I (or my "fans") had anticipated.
As I shot out of the blocks,
my body unexpectedly lost all sense of balance
and sprawled awkwardly across the track.

There wasn't even time to think about
how much I longed for the ground to swallow me up and eat me whole
(that would come later).
The only thing on my mind was the goal;
that finish line in front of me.

I scraped up my body and my pride off the track.
And I re-entered the race.
I began to sprint with everything in me.
And somehow, even with my less-than-graceful fall,
I very nearly won the race.

While the story has ranked up there among my most embarrassing moments over the years---
and while I got some good-natured teasing from family---
the story has served to remind me---often---of Biblical truth.

In life, it's so easy to get sidetracked.
We hear opposing viewpoints coming at us from all directions.
We grow tired and weary and discouraged.
We stumble, and yes, fall sometimes.
Sometimes we rely on past achievements or glory days.
We're satisfied with yesterday.

In Philippians 3, Paul writes:

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.  Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you.  Only let us hold true to what we have attained.


Paul repeatedly describes the Christian life as a race.
With singleness of mind and Christ-centered resolve,
we're admonished to set our eyes and our focus on Christ.
No matter what happens or where we've been---
no matter if we've awkwardly laid 
sprawled across the track---
we're to strain toward knowing and following hard after Him.
He alone is our joy, our glory, and our crown.

the macaroni & cheese bowl

I affectionately refer to this as the macaroni & cheese bowl.
When I was a little girl,
my mom would occasionally serve us mac & cheese.
Sometimes she'd even doctor it up with Spam (yuck---sorry, Mom) 
or ground beef and cream of mushroom soup.
And though it wasn't a fancy meal,
she placed it in this bowl and set it on the table.
And somehow,
the ordinary became extraordinary.

She offered me this bowl a few years back.
Immediately I exclaimed,
"The macaroni & cheese bowl!"
She hadn't even remembered.
But I did.
Because that little act somehow made our little family of 4 feel special and acknowledged.
She didn't simply serve us from the pan on the stove.
She surely could have.
It would have saved a dish to wash.
But she simply and lovingly put out her best.

One of my favorite summertime snacks as a child was frozen banana chunks.
I loved the fact that my mom thought ahead
and prepared special treats for my brother and me.
It wasn't till I was an adult that I learned that the summertime treat I loved so much was in response to a small budget.
Money was tight.
Bananas near the end of their life were cheap.
My mom would buy them at the grocery store,
peel them,
cut them into chunks,
and pop them in the freezer.
Not only did it extend their life,
but it provided a refreshing summertime snack for pennies.
Who knew?

Both of these simple gestures hold such special meaning for me,
not because of exorbitant money spent,
but because of her tender love that showed she
noticed us.
She anticipated needs.
And she acted on them.
She faithfully managed her home
and it enhanced the lives of each one of us.

What will our children remember about the way we manage our homes, reading friends?
Do they see in us a glad choice,
a joyful contentedness,
a sweet simplicity?
Do we emphasize the people or the stuff?
Are we investing in building character and memories?
A rest and contentedness that Christ is always, always enough?
Your little investments that may very well seem small today are reaping eternal dividends, dear one.
Be faithful in the little things.
Pour yourself out.
And trust that our God is using you as a vessel of His grace,
showing the next generation what He's all about.

"She looks well to the ways of her household

and does not eat the bread of idleness."

Psalm 31:27

[who will you believe?]

I remember sitting on the floor of a closet-turned-office in my elementary school.  

The woman sitting beside me had a warm smile and soft, gentle words.

I liked her.

But at the same time,

I knew there were only a couple of other kids in my school who met with her.

And even as a first grader, I knew there must be something wrong with me.

Oh, yeah.  

My lisp.

This speech pathologist was trying to help me.

I couldn't really get my tongue to make the sound behind my teeth that hers did.

But nobody seemed to make a big deal of it.

So I was ok.

In fact, I was more than ok.

I was confident---

too confident, maybe. 

Even in first and second grade, 

I was writing plays and submitting them to my teacher.

"Maybe our class could perform this," I'd quip.

Of course, as I cast my characters,

I always gave myself the starring role.

Oh, and I was sure to write in a place for me 

to showcase my mad piano playing skills

(which really weren't as mad as I thought them to be).  

I boldly participated in each and every talent show.

First grade found me dressed as Little Orphan Annie 

(complete with a curly wig and red dress) 

belting out "Tomorrow."

With my mom in the audience rooting for me,

I took first place.

My confidence soared.

The words of the plaque that hung in my pink bedroom

resonated in my heart.

God said, 

"You are precious in my eyes,

and honored,

and I love you."

Isaiah 43:10

I believed it.

I trusted it.

I was secure in it.

I sailed through elementary school

and reached Jr. High.

The lisp that wasn't a big deal in elementary school now became fodder for teasing and taunting and poking fun of me.

The boys mimicked me and fed off of one another's jokes.

Their laughter rang in my ears.

And as a Jr. High girl who had previously developed crushes on some of these same boys,

I was devastated.

These were the guys I wanted to like and accept me.

And instead, I felt rejected.  

Inferior.  

Insecure.

Instead of believing what God said about me,

I believed these boys.

And the once-confident-girl-of-my-youth

settled into the background,

willing teachers not to call on me,

shying away from solos,

hoping to fly under the radar and go unnoticed.

I lived there for far too long---

well into adulthood.

I found comfort being the behind-the-scenes girl.

And don't even think about asking me to get up and speak

(which I'd do occasionally but not without extreme self-analysis and fear).

I was paralyzed and unable to move forward for years

because of the comments of a few immature Jr. high boys years before.

Several years ago, for the first time, I made myself vulnerable to a group of my high school girls.

We'd been discussing our value in God's eyes;

the idea that we're made in His image and He doesn't make mistakes.

I shared with them how this had been a struggle for me for many years.

I talked about my lisp and the pain it caused me;

how I struggled with feelings of inferiority and self-consciousness for much of my life because of it;

how I was slowly learning to take those thoughts captive and believe what God said about me.  

Soon after,

I received a note in the mail.

It was from my friend and co-leader in that small group of girls that night.

Oh, and she just happens to be a speech pathologist.

She thanked me for sharing my story, but then she said the words that stopped me in my tracks:

"Nikki, you don't have a lisp.  You used to have a lisp.  But it's gone."

My body convulsed in sobs.

For so many years,

I'd staked my belief about myself on some careless comments of immature boys.

Rather than believing God,

I believed them.

Rather than finding my identity and worth in Him,

I'd allowed flippant, off-the-cuff remarks to shape me and change me.

And somehow, even when God had removed the "thorn" from me,

I hadn't even noticed,

because I was still believing the lie.

Are you believing a lie, dear one?

Do the hurtful words of yesterday ring in your ears today,

robbing you of the joy you have in Christ?

Do they tell you you're a mistake?

That you don't measure up?

That you're an embarrassment?

Do you, like me, stake your claim on some human's hurtful words of yesteryear?

Or today, will you choose to believe the Truth?

Will you listen to our Father God as He whispers words of life and love over your soul?

You are His masterpiece, friend.

He loves you with an everlasting, can't-do-anything-to-make-Him-love-you-less love.

When you fail and mess up, His love is secure.

When everyone else walks away, He is faithful.

Believe Him, dear one.

Trust Him.

Rest in His beautiful promises to you.

God said, 

"You are precious in my eyes,

and honored,

and I love you."

Isaiah 43:10

made whole

My husband is a fabulous gift giver.

He listens to little things I say in passing all throughout the year.
And he records them in a journal which serves as his list of gift ideas.

At one point, I said I'd like to get a pretty set of mixing bowls: 
bowls that were pretty enough to go from microwave to table.

He heard my desire.
He recorded it in his little book.
And he made it happen.
On my last birthday,
I discovered a gorgeous set of nesting mixing bowls in my cupboard.
I love them,
not only because they're just what I'd wanted,
but because he searched near and far to make them a reality.
He listened to me.  He heard me.
He loves me so good.

This morning I was loading the dishwasher.
[You can see it coming, can't you?]
The smallest of the bowls---my favorite off-white---
slipped out of my clumsy hands
and went crashing to the floor.

I know, I know.
It's just a bowl.
Just a thing.
But I was crushed.
As I crumbled among the shards of my once beautiful bowl on my kitchen floor,
my heart seemed to mirror those broken, shattered pieces.

After what I'm sure was a pathetic-sounding voicemail to my husband,
I moved onward through my morning.
And though I was woefully sad about my broken mess,
God began to speak gently to my heart.
It's only a bowl, right?
Yes, but it's a picture of so much more.

This beautiful bowl, so intricately designed.
Its detail, exquisite.
I loved it and treasured it
simply because it was mine.

When it lay broken in pieces,
when it seemed worthless and
all together useless,
the one who loved it and treasured it
lovingly gathered up the scattered pieces
and painstakingly set about putting them together again.
There was vision of what could be;
knowledge that brokenness does not mean uselessness.

And I'm faithfully reminded that the gracious God of the universe loves me,
not based upon performance, but simply because I'm His.
This God sees the broken pieces of my life,
finding me where I was lost,
cleansing me where I was filthy,
bringing wholeness where there was brokenness,
pardon where there was sin.

And this beautiful broken mess of a bowl
now serves as a poignant reminder of that beautiful truth.
I'm scooped up.
Restored.
Made whole.
Redeemed.

Still

When life is hard...
when we're running on empty...
when we feel lonely or betrayed or forgotten,
our tendency is to get active.
We run and escape.
We do and strive.
We grasp and cling.
Fighting for control, we seek a tangible solution;
something that will seemingly fill us and give us momentary relief.

But all this running "to" is really a running "from":
running from the only One who can truly
fill those needs and shoulder those hurts;
running from the only One who can bring
peace in despair,
perspective in the chaos,
purpose in the mundane.

The question I'm posing to myself---and to each of you, my reading friends---is this:
Are we running to our heavenly Father---
the all-sufficient God of the Universe---
with our broken hearts,
or are we fleeing Him?
Are we convinced that He hears our pleas?
that He identifies with our hurts?
that He invites us to bring our disappointments, our inadequacies, our failures, and our sins and cast them all on Him? 

It's not a matter of doing more or escaping. 
It's a matter of being still.
"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10
Jesus says to us as he said to Martha in Luke 10,
"...one thing is necessary...." 
Sit.
Listen.
Come.
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and  learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."  Matthew 11:28-29

[learning to embrace the chaos]

Wednesday afternoon found me muttering to myself as I made my 439th pick-up/drop-off of the afternoon.

Okay, so maybe that's a bit of an exagerration.

Most Wednesdays, I keep a pretty good sense of humor about my afternoon routine, laughing at the craziness of it all.  I even refer to my wheels and service as "Mom's Taxi."

The fact is, I think it's probably not much different from your schedule. 
It's simply called "being a mom."

But sometimes---ok, oftentimes---I'm selfish
(as evidenced when the needs of others occasionally infringe upon my obvious needs and desires [rolling eyes]).
Yup.  I'm often selfish.

I pick up our middle son and a friend at school and drop them off at Good News Club. 
I come home for a few minutes then return to school to pick up oldest son from school.
I return home for a few more minutes then return to Good News Club to pick up our middle son.
We return home and stay put for another hour or so before heading over to church for the night.

This Wednesday, instead of laughing about it, I found myself thinking, "I hate Wednesday afternoons!"

Fast forward to Thursday. 
My husband drops off our youngest son at church for his P.E. class.
I return an hour later to pick him up.
We come home for a couple hours,
then I take him back to church for his writing class.
Then I come home.
Then I return to church and pick him up an hour later.

And I found myself, again, muttering, "I don't like Thursdays!"

Today---Friday---arrived with promise.  Fridays are always a bit of a challenge, because by the time I arrive home from my run (and desperately in need of a shower) around 7ish, my two oldest boys are already habitating the bathroom with their own showers.  On other days, this is not a problem, but on Fridays, I need to be over to my Moms In Touch prayer time at the high school by 8:30.  Our hot water heater stubbornly refuses to offer hot water for more than 2 consecutive people, so I need to patiently wait my turn till after I've dropped our boys off at school and return home close to 8, frantically trying to get ready and get to my prayer group by 8:30. 

This morning I found myself thinking, "Friday mornings are so stressful!"

And at once, God put me in my place.

"You don't like Wednesdays. 
You don't like Thursdays.
You don't like Fridays.
What do you like, Nikki,
and what is it you want?
Yes, the schedule is a little crazy right now.
But someday, all too soon, you'll have
all the time and freedom you think you want.
Embrace and enjoy these days in all their glorious chaos,
for they are evidence that you're not in it alone.
You have the joy and blessing of living life
with these remarkable young men I've placed in your home.
They are healthy and strong and able to serve.
Be grateful for the life and the activity and the energy they bring.
Full days of life and people are evidence of My grace to you.
Don't waste them. Don't begrudge them. 
Rejoice in my good gifts to you."

I'm humbled.
And with new eyes and a fresh heart, I whisper,
"Yes, Lord.
Help me choose joy,
overflow with thankfulness,
and embrace all this glorious chaos.
You are, indeed, so very good to me."

Thank You for Change

As much as I've talked (or ranted or complained) about change here in my little corner of Blogland, God is faithful.  While He's been at work on this stubborn heart of mine for quite some time, I've often been unwilling to budge and give Him the freedom to have His way in me.  I've resisted.  I've fought hard against new seasons.  Oh, I'm so thankful He doesn't give up on me! 

Several months ago, I was contacted about speaking at our church's homeschool group in October.  Within days of that request, I received another request to speak at our young moms' group last Friday.  Now, those of you who know me in real life KNOW that this is SO NOT ME.  My husband is the up-front guy. 

I'm a background person. 

Support person. 
Comfortable-being-unseen person.
I like it that way.
I write here at my keyboard, safe and cocooned. 
That's about as "out there" as I get. 

Yet in the midst of our role transition of these past months, I couldn't help but notice that God presented me with two requests to speak. 

My first instinct was to turn them down cold. 
Resist. 
Plead busyness. 
Ineptness. 
A case of the measles. 
Anything. 

But as I prayed about it, I couldn't help but strongly sense it was of God. 
A God who loves me.
Sees me.
Knows what's best for me.

I couldn't do it.  And that's exactly where He wanted me:  a place of utter dependence, not on my own ability, but on His alone.  I remember crying out, "God, I so can't do this!  This isn't me.  This isn't my gift!  You're going to have to do it!"  I think I'm finding He delights in those prayers.  So much of my life, I've rested and relied on my own abilities or strengths.  How our Father longs to knock us out flat before Him, crying, "God!  I've got nothing!  Use me!" 

And so, yes, I've most often struggled with change and new seasons.  I've bucked.  But I'm discovering gracious reminders that He doesn't send us off into new seasons or uncharted waters without His presence and a plan.  I see little glimmers of hope all around me.

These current months are still very much a time of transition.  We still often find ourselves with one foot in youth ministry and the other in adult ministry.  And sometimes I'm afraid to let go; to make that final leap.  Last night as my husband and I returned home after a full day, we began recounting recent days.  As I recalled my time with the "young moms" on Friday, tears filled my eyes, for God used that out-of-my-comfort-zone morning to give me a vision and a hope; a reminder that "...the God who has been sufficient until now should be trusted to the end." ~ Charles Spurgeon

And I'm thankful.
Thankful for change.

Great Is His Faithfulness

We've heard the story all our lives. 

The abbreviated version:
The Pilgrims came to the new world seeking religious freedom.
After trying, difficult months aboard the Mayflower,
they sighted land and established a colony.
They befriended the Indians
and God graciously used them
to teach the Pilgrims how to plant crops.
They threw a feast in celebration of God's bounty.
And, of course, they gave thanks.

While I've always known that many lives were lost in that first winter of establishing Plymouth Colony, it wasn't till this week that I've truly undertstood the picture of this in its fullness.

Despite the loss of half of those who originally arrived on the Mayflower,
despite their frequent lack of food,
despite the uncertain relations
with neighboring Indian tribes---
they gave God thanks.
And it wasn't just for "stuff."
It was thanks for God's care and guidance and faithfulness.

God has seemingly wanted to impress this on my heart,
as He's been sending me example after example of this in recent days.

My friend and I are doing a Bible study on the life of David.
David, the one God sent Samuel to anoint king,
was on the run again.
He was being hotly pursued by the unstable, enraged, jealous
King Saul who sought his life.
While fleeing from those who would seek to do him harm,
he wrote Psalm 54.
"With a freewill offering I will sacrifice to you;
I will give thanks to your name, O Lord,
for it is good." (v.6)

And then there's President Abraham Lincoln who declared a day of national thanksgiving and praise IN THE MIDST of the Civil War.
That was a broken, painful time for our nation.
But in the midst of the pain,
President Lincoln knew the importance
of directing thanksgiving and praise
to our Almighty God.

In each of these examples,
eyes and hearts were firmly fixed on Jesus.
Even when life was painful and difficult,
they remembered God's
character, wonders, and provisions.
They believed that even in the trials,
He was faithfully at work and would not abandon them.

What a beautiful, convicting reminder for us in 2011.
No matter the circumstances or seasons of life,
our hearts can and should spill over with sincere gratitude
for His past mercies and faithful love.

All we've needed, His hand has provided.
Great is His faithfulness.

Learning

There is an incredible comfort in the words Paul wrote in Philippians 4.  I'd glossed over them for most of my life, but then God imprinted them indelibly on my heart. 

"Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.  I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound.  In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need."  Philippians 4:11-12

I have learned.

Thankfulness is not our natural response.  It's not our default setting, especially when facing the everyday hardships and trials of life. 

But our friend, Paul, speaks words of hope to my heart:  thankfulness can be learned.  Even...

• on Monday mornings when everything is going wrong
• at the end of the day when our strength is spent
• when we receive the phone call that changes everything
• when there's not enough money to pay the bills
• when the child we love more than life itself tries to deny that love
• when the diagnosis is bleak....

We can be---we can learn to be---thankful.

Whether low or abounding,
filled or hungry,
abundant or needy,
we can rest...be still...rejoice...be thankful:

thankful for His grace...faithfulness...love.
thankful that He's in control when everything's out of our control.
thankful for promises of new mercies...presence...strength;
peace...forgiveness...victory.

"Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.  Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.  The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your request be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:4-7

[...with wisdom]

The recent realization and conviction hurt.
Despite my daily efforts at the contrary,
ill-timed, thoughtless words had spewed forth from my mouth.
They weren't anything overtly ugly.
They were just careless.
And they had the potential of raising questions of trust in the hearts of the hearers.

And God was gracious to bring them to my attention.

There are six specific words in scripture which have significantly influenced my own words over the past decade.  They have had tremendous bearing on the words I say and don't say.  They are, indeed, words to live by:

"She opens her mouth with wisdom..."
Proverbs 31:26

I've heard it said that this verse indicates that the wise woman's mouth is not always open. 

We're a society of words.  And unless a heart and mouth are trained, the tendency is to speak the first words that come to mind, often spewing thoughtless remarks that result in long-lasting pain.  And sometimes our words aren't so much damaging, but there's no real point to them.  Perhaps we like to hear ourselves talk.  Or perhaps we just like to be the first bearer of information; to be viewed as one "in-the-know."

But this verse sets a standard before me. 
A simple, brief reminder:
"Nik, when you have something to say, make it wise.  And unless you have something wise to say, keep your mouth shut."

And when I mess up and miss the mark,
it calls me back to wisdom;
a place of prayerfully seeking God
and asking Him to take control of the words
of my heart and my mouth.

My heart's cry and longing is to be wise and trusted;
to be a reflection of Jesus in what I do and don't say.
And my heart is awakened and committed to seeking wisdom
by seeking the One who gives it.

...making the best use of the time...

"If I can just get past this week, things will be better."
"If we can just get through this season, the load will lighten."
"If we can simply survive this stage, we'll be home free!"

Sound familiar?
I've spoken and thought those very lines more times than I can count.

I remember, when our boys were small,
often longing for the next stage:
the stage when they'd be big enough to
put on their own coats;
ride without a carseat;
go to the bathroom by themselves;
stay home without a sitter.

I remember the days when they'd be in bed by 7:30 or 8pm and my husband and I would have the whoooole evening ahead---just the two of us.  Of course, then I was lamenting that the boys got up so early in the morning.  These days there's no quiet evening for two, unless we schedule a planned date out, as our boys stay up nearly as late as we do!

These days,
teenage boys drive away without me beside them,
college visits loom on the horizon,
school, work, and church schedules find us going multiple directions at once.

I just want to hit the "pause" button.

And I remember, with chagrin, how frequently I wished away time...wished for the next stage...wished things were different than they were. 

Oh, I still have so very much to learn.
But God is graciously, patiently at work on this old selfish heart of mine.
He's impressed words and truths on my heart;
words that echo in my mind almost daily.
Embrace.  Invest.  Be intentional.  Be all there.
Don't simply let the days "happen."
Don't wish them away.
Don't wish for a new, different season.
Courageously welcome and make the most of each one.
Because every stage, every season, is a gift; a good gift.
Each one is God-designed to draw our hearts and our attention to Him;
to make us look more like Him.
Sometimes it's hard.  Sometimes it hurts.
But all of it has been sifted through His all-wise, loving hands
for our good and His glory. 
Whether we find ourselves in the
college days,
newlywed days,
parents of preschooler days,
parents of teenager days,
or empty nest days,
He's called us to be wise,
gladly investing and trusting Him with
each day for His glory and His fame.
Contrary to what I so often think,
it's all about Him.

"Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil."  Ephesians 5:15-16