Blessings and Raindrops

January 4, 2016

Light.

his burden is light

I knew it then. Hesitantly hitting publish on that very first post, I knew the sharing was an act of obedience.

So, here I am. Taking a very small step in the direction my Jesus has asked me to go. This is not earth shattering by any means, I get that. But it is me (once again) laying my fears, my worries, and my anxieties at the feet of my Savior. I am writing the words on my heart for you all to read if you so choose. That’s just plain scary in my book. “

When I first started writing here on this blog, I was on the cusp of a new story being penned by God. I felt it like a fire burning within me. Yet, the fear of writing that story for the world to read was intimidating. I first wanted a glimpse of the rough draft, I sought to understand the plot, I needed to be assured the story would end with a tidy bow tieing the chapters together. Writing through the unknowns and the darkness often left me feeling exposed.

Fear reared it’s ugly head.

Fear of being vulnerable, fear of mediocrity, fear of not being enough.

Here I sit, at the start of a new year, on the other side of that first story: the story of our girls joining our family. The story of love pouring forth. The story of miracles unfolding. The story of a community of prayer warriors linking arms and charging into spiritual battles.

On the other side of the story, I feel ill-equipped. I have left my pen (laptop) sit for a time. Dormant. I am afraid the words won’t come. I’m afraid the ordinary isn’t enough.

In His goodness and mercy, He led me to the words I needed this morning. Written by a friend who fiercely understands the pouring out, the exposure of vulnerability. I had written a few words for Amber’s blog to be shared today as a part of her guest post series. Yet, Divine timing intervened. Amber asked if my post could be moved to later this week as her words were scheduled to be on another site this morning.

The timing could not have been better. Reading Amber’s words this morning, soaking up the truths, felt like a salve to my own weary soul:

If love is the only goal, then I wonder what can hold us back?

Here at the beginning of the year, I realize just how held back I’ve been, so held back that I feel near paralyzed. As I look ahead and decide the kind of year I want 2016 to be, I first have to figure out what’s keeping me from the LOVE to which I’m called. If I love you, I will pour out and hope for nothing more than to show the love that Christ has to shown me. When I show it to you, I will see it all the more for myself.” – Amber Haines

——————————————————–

I spent some time alone with my Abba Father on the first day of the new year, locked in a bathroom soaking in a tub {because I’m a momma of littles – we find quiet where we find it}, asking Him to give me something to cling to in this season. This season of caring for littles, of changes unfolding in our ministry, of desperately wanting to be present and still and patient and kind – and faltering so very often. And, He whispered a gentle balm for my soul:

My burden is light. {Matthew 11:30}

All of the striving, the failing to measure up, the fears, the aching, the building, the chasing… it isn’t from Him. He doesn’t need me to run after Him. He is already running after me. I simply need to slow down, open my eyes, and see Him there. Waiting. Ready. Arms outstretched. Willing to lead me beside peaceful streams and give me rest in green pastures.

The needs press on. The hurting continues. The pain swirls around us. This world is not our home. It is broken and tattered. Even still, I can open my hands and simply ask where He needs me right in this moment. It’s not up to me to solve the problems. It’s not up to me to stand up for every injustice and heal all of the hurting. Faith without works is dead. Yes. Can’t it also be said that faith without trust is dead?

Today, as I approach a new year, a fresh slate, I will trust in Him. I will trust Him enough to hand over my heavy burdens in exchange for the buoyancy of His arms.

December 16, 2015

a farmhouse christmas. {2015}.

Dave was thrilled to lug all 50 billion totes of Christmas decor down from storage earlier this month {okay, yes, I tend to exaggerate…but it felt like 50 billion}. He was even more thrilled when I decided to dismiss 99.9% of the decorations he had just hefted down a flight of stairs.

This Christmas, I felt a need to simplify. Decor, calendar commitments, gifts… all of it. The Christmas season has increasingly become frenzied, lacking margin to simply slow down and breathe in the good gifts of the season. Recently, I embraced the phrase, “good enough is good enough.” And, do you know what I’ve learned? It’s true. Good enough really is good enough.

This means, my Christmas cards are yet to be mailed. And, if they don’t make it to my loved ones’ mailboxes before the 25th? It’s okay, they were sent with love and, that, my friends, is good enough.

This means, my tree top is all kinds of droopy.

We had the best time cutting down our own tree this year. Dave helped the boys use the saw and we all cheered and yelled, “timber!” as the tree fell. Y’all, this tree. She certainly isn’t the sturdiest thing: ornaments consistently slide off the branches and she has already toppled over soaking the rug in lovely tree water.

Between the flimsy tree branches and all of the little hands in this house, she is most certainly not picture perfect. Even still, we love this goofy tree. She makes us all smile. And, that, my friends, is good enough.

This means, when my littlest love is sick, I let the laundry pile up while I hold her and we sing Christmas carols together.

I know how quickly these adorablely, squishy, hilarious, frustrating toddler years will pass and I do not want to miss a moment. If she wants me to hold her and rock her, I will scoop her up and hold her tight.

So, when I take a photo of the no-frills Christmas centerpiece on our table and notice that I forgot to move the laundry basket out of the shot, it’s okay. I have a table to feed my loves and I have clean clothes for them to wear. And, I have photo documentation of both. That, my friends, is good enough.

This means, when the wreath keeps falling from it’s perch above the kitchen sink and I decide to hang it on the back porch and it falls yet again, I can simply set it on the porch swing. Then, I will still see a pop of color as I’m doing dishes and looking out the window. That, my friends, is good enough.

This means, when I tried to hang garland above the front door {but the darn command hook commercials are big, fat liars because they fall down EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. you hang anything weighing over 0.5 ounces}, I gave up and hung them below the crown molding.

And, then, I snapped a photo to document my accomplishment: I hung the garland that has been laying across my chair for two weeks. Hurray!

But, I tried to open the front door to let the dog out and realized this is not functional. I had to pull down the garland and accidentally ripped off two giant chunks of paint {command hooks! I’m talking to you!} and decided to just lay it across a table and pretend that was the plan all along. Because, well, who really cares about garland anyway? That, my friends, is good enough.

I forgot to take a picture of the second location but wasn’t it pretty above the door for five minutes?

You see, it’s all about perspective. About letting go of guilt and striving and perfection. Slowing down to soak in the joys of this season.

Deck the halls of your home: go all out or simply place a few small branches of pine in a glass jar. Do what is good enough for you.

Keep some blank space on your calendar. Drink hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire {even if the weather is unseasonably warm and you have to open a window before you melt}. Turn off the lights, turn on Christmas music and sing along under the soft glow of the tree.

Read advent devotions to your kids, yet give yourself grace if you miss a day or two (or ten) and do a big catch up on the weekends.

My favorite advent devotional: The Greatest Gift by Ann Voskamp. We also read her family devotional during our Jesse Tree readings {this doesn’t happen every night and that’s okay, we do this as often as we can and let go of the guilt. Let’s face it, I can’t remember to do anything consistently every day…}.

Have y’all seen these? They are pretend snowballs for indoor snowball fights. I feel like they are just giant cotton balls but my kids LOVE them.

I’ve had these Christmas glasses since college. I worked at Pottery Barn and would buy the most random things with my discount since I lived in a 10X10 room and had no need for nice things. I’ve never unpacked them until our first Christmas here in the farmhouse because I finally had open shelving. Apparently, they are a classic that stood the test of time since it feels like college was decades ago.

Wishing you all an intentional, joy-soaked Christmas season, my friends. <3

*Today, I’m linking up with Becky at This is Happiness for a Christmas Home Tour.

December 14, 2015

doing good. together.

Throughout this past year, Dave and I have been quietly working with the team at Help One Now to determine how we could make an impact together in Congo. Dave joined the team earlier this year in Haiti to see their work firsthand. He was able to meet with and learn from the empowered local leaders who have created safe havens for children rescued out of trafficking, built homes for local families, built schools, fed children and preserved first families. He saw sustainable, real, life-giving change in communities across the country.

It was a first step toward realizing the vision God was slowly unveiling for our place within His plans.

More recently, Dave and a team went on a life-changing vision trip to Congo. As they flew over the ocean, I wrote the words burning on my heart…

The depth of answered prayers here are beyond my ability to articulate.

When we first stepped foot on that Congolese soil together, Dave and I knew our lives were forever changed. We knew we would make it our life’s work to serve the people of this beautiful country, particularly her children.

We absolutely believe the impact of our work will be far greater by doing this together with the Help One Now team. And, we are so fortunate to already be working with a strong and capable local Congolese partner, Mwangaza International. This trip is the first step into understanding what it is that we are all being called to do together.”

Chris and his team have been so incredibly gracious and generous with their time and wisdom. They have helped us to very intentionally cast a vision for how we want to invest for the long term in our daughter’s birth country. You guys, I can’t even tell you what a privilege it has been to watch all of this unfold.

Honestly, we never set out to do any of this work. We simply wanted to feed a group of kids we had come to love. And, yet, God moved and breathed life into all of it. Each month, He provided through unexpected donations or last minute checks arriving in the mail. Some months found us with $10 left in the account after food money was wired over to our team in Congo. Yet, each month, He provided. Just enough. Just in time.

We learned quickly that this work is not about us or personal agendas or non-profit organizations or fundraising. It was simply about children that are desperate for the bright light of Hope. And, I am 100% sure that God loves these kids something fierce. He simply asked us to step up and love them tangibly. It’s part of the deal, after all. Caring for orphans and widows is what is required of us.

We could so easily live our lives and miss out on all of this. We could get caught up in all.of.the.things and not ever say “yes” to the very best things. The serving. The loving. The awe-struck wonder of watching God’s hand unfold and release something more beautiful than could have ever been dreamt up.

We had the amazing privilege of sharing what is next for Feed Their Tummies with our generous little Bentonville Sessions community this past weekend.

We coined it our “Congo Launch Party.” It was the perfect pause in this advent season.

We have walked with our heads down, praying for guidance and wisdom for months and months. We have been in our own season of waiting. And, now, during the wait of Advent, we celebrated the first steps forward toward a launch of long-term, local-church-led work in a country so dear to our hearts. It was a beautiful night.

I’m so hopeful for what’s to come. I can’t wait to continue to share how this all unfolds. Thank you all for being a part of this story of Hope.

*Photo Credits: Mike Rusch

**If you are interested in coming alongside us as we launch this new program in Congo, you can learn more and give financial gifts HERE.

November 30, 2015

a story of Hope.

E.L. Doctorow once said that “writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” You don’t have to see where you’re going, you don’t have to see your destination or everything you’ll pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice about writing, or life, I have ever heard.”

Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

I agree with Anne. This is spot-on life advice. I can easily look back on my life and see where God gave me a meager two or three feet of visibility for what was ahead. Of course, in my desire for control, I begged and pleaded for more. I wanted to know exactly where I was headed and what I would “pass along the way.”

In His graciousness and tender mercy, He shielded the view ahead. With the mountains looming in the distance, He provided cloud cover to shroud the massive peaks. If I had known how steep the climb, I might have turned around or simply said “no.” I would have pointed to my inability, my weakness, my lack of training. I may have lamented my ill-equipped supplies for the journey.

Instead, I pressed on.

As long as my gaze was fixed on Him, my feet kept moving forward.

Once again, I am unsure of what lies around the next bend. I know that I’m currently in a season of abundance and rest. I trust that our good Father provides these seasons to allow for much-needed respite after an arduous journey. Our mountain-scaling adoption process was exhausting emotionally, physically and spiritually. We unknowingly stepped onto an intense battlefield when we said “yes” to our little brown-eyed girl. We were up against a ferocious enemy who relentlessly attacked. After she came home, I dealt with a form of PTSD. Just now, after seventeen months, I can breathe again. I can find rest and peace again. The panic attacks and anxiety that often gripped in the dark of the night have diminished. The battle scars have faded.

We are walking a new path. One revealed in small increments, two or three feet ahead. Our work building Feed Their Tummies was set into motion because of our obedience to a call to care for the vulnerable. We now find ourselves on the brink of something new, something potentially greater than we ever anticipated. I don’t know how any of this will turn out. I only know that God called us here. And, He is good and He is faithful. He is full of mercy and compassion. He defends justice and provides restoration where human eyes only see brokenness and barren lands.

As I step forward and watch the path slowly illuminate before me, I remain in hopeful expectation of what is to come. God is doing a new thing in a country very dear to our hearts. Dave and I are humbled by His entrusting us to play a small role in this story of Hope. I can’t wait to share what is revealed along the way.

Photo Credit: Jim Byrum