Grow

Grow

I think we get too caught up in arrival.
We neglect that we are...growing.
We expect.
"They" expect.
We expect that they expect.
Expectations really stiffle sunshine.
We don't have it all together.
We haven't arrived.
We're not in full bloom.
The Son hasn't come back and fully shinned on us.
We're in process.
Is this a license to not grow?
Certaintly not, who would want that?
I want to be beautiful.
I want to be all the magestic things I could be for Him.
For him.
For them.
For you.
But, I don't grow fast, or better if I expect more from myself than...
My best.
Where I am.
What I can do.
I only have this much time---
I can only do so much.
And that---is fine.
With Him.
Not always me, or them, but Him.
I'm growing.
Like it or not.
Thank you for your patience.
I hope to extend you the same---honor--
Grow at your own pace.
In love.
With love.
By love.
For Love.

He's worthy.

Catch

Start.

Catching can be when someone throws something your direction and you do something with that. As a mom of three boys I am all to familiar with this.

God throws too. He throws these beautiful moments at me and suddenly I'm stopped in my tracks and I catch something---

Him.

The Fall breeze that catches me by surprise when I step out of my car
A baby posing for pictures without being asked catching my attention
The ground catching an unexpected storm
A camera catching a rainbow in the middle of chores

The way the wall catches the light in my house as the sun is setting

Oh He's praying I catch it and He's praying I do something with it. Take it into my hands and throw it back to Him, but not in a...I don't want this or a I don't have time for this way, but in a...I loved that, let's do that again, your turn Lord.

When He throws Himself at me, I pray I notice...I catch. And for that moment---even in the middle of chores, or a screaming baby, or brothers fighting---I'm remember His faithful presence in my life.

End.

Participating in 5 minute Friday, theme: Catch.

Whole

START

I want to be whole. I want my kids to be whole. I want the whole world to be whole. Lately, I've just been thinking [well more than just lately really] about the world. For a season, God told Charles and I to really concentrate on making our relationship and our relationship with our kids whole. We're there. Okay, you can never "be there", but I feel like we're a really good place realtionally. God's made my little Nation's heart whole after he incurred some damage last year during our separation. God's got more restoration instore for the other boys and myself & Charles too I'm sure, but in general, I feel like we're in a good place. A cozy place...a peaceful lay-your-head-on-the-pillow and everything is okay place.

But then...

...as soon as the cool of the pillow case hits my cheek I start thinking about the others. Those a few houses away from me, those a few miles away from me, those thousands and thousands of miles away from me.

Even in all of our [Charles & I's] imperfection glory we at least knew The One who brings wholeness. And I know [although I think our life spends most of it's time trying to distract us otherwise] that there are men, women, and [Jesus help me] children out there that aren't whole. Or anything that is even close to that word.

Their tummies are empty, their hearts are fractured, their spirits are crushed, their innocence torn---they are like glass shattered on a dirty floor and I put my shoes on to walk over it so hearing their stories and seeing their faces doesn't inconvenience or hurt my well pedicured feet so much.

Writing about The Lost, The Broken, and the Poor isn't good for numbers, but it's good for my heart. It makes me feel whole. Close to Him who is whole.

The only thing keeping me from feeling personally whole right now is trying to figure out how this suburbia housewife and mother of 3 reaches those without wholeness in their life.

Waiting on you Lord. Send creative-tangiable-ideas soon.

STOP

Still

[okay, maybe once...they did sit still for this picture]

Still...

Am I ever still? Are my kids ever still? I don't think I was a very still child. Really though, what in life is still? Besides a painting. And even that---the colors run your eyes all over the canvas. Maybe being still is overrated. Unless of course, or should I say, least we forget...

Be still and know that I am God.

It's one of those verses you can easily memorize like, "Jesus wept" or "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son." Why, by the way, do we memorize begotten---it's not like most of us use that translation the rest of our life.

Three minutes left here on five minute Friday. Quick redeem this post by being hilarious or super serious.

Are you STILL reading this?

Still seems boring to me. I know my life is busy, crazy, always moving, always loud, always---- insert words you never used before you had toddlers & babies---- but, [although cliche to say] I wouldn't trade it for a [still] world.

All the moving constantly moves me towards the One who I have to constantly remain still before. Having children definitly streches your faith in places you never knew you had in you----like yoga. Having children...

...makes me never want to be still the same old Candra I was last month, last week, or yesterday. Having children makes me want to be ever moving, ever changing, ever growing into that woman that I can be.

Still somedays, I don't move much. But moving is still better than being still.

Loss

Dear Friend,

I heard your news today. Even though I always knew it was a possibility, it didn't make it any easier to hear. I'm a friend with many words, but very few today. I hate that this has happen to you. I feel very powerless. I prayed with lots of faith on your behalf, but now it seems it wasn't enough.

I feel I've failed you.

It takes everything for me to gather my words and whisper them out loud to myself, and then to you...

God is good.

God is a giver.

He did not do this to you.

he, the little "H", the one who first slithered like an "S" on the ground...he, not He, but he. he comes to kill, steal, and destroy us. And today, he, has taken from you, and so, from me. 

Cancer. Miscarriage. Divorce. Lack. Disorder. Illness. Death. Loss...

Sincerely,
Your sister who will live with you in a loss-free eternity

I Wonder

[I wonder what people will think after they read this post. I wonder if I am alone.]

I wonder how it's possible to love a Lord so deep, and for so long, but not love His words. Saying it that plainly sounds so terrible, but isn't it true? The Word isn't my favorite book to pick up, it isn't where my mind wonders to, and it isn't what comes out of my mouth most. It isn't were I spend most my time.

I don't deserve the shelf of translations [and colors] I own. I love it less than those who don't even have the luxury of having their own.

Honestly, I do love Him---serve Him---obey Him---need Him desperately all day for more days than I can remember. But I live on the Him I've been served, read once, or retold about in a book [about Him].

I can't help but wonder what great adventure lies behind the wardrobe closet. It must be so fantastic that he---the one whose native tongue is lies---convinces me day in and day out to avoid. I can't help, but wonder the endless magic that would ignite my dull day if I read Him daily.

After all, He is The Word. It's not technically possible to say I love Him, and not love The Word. I am enthralled by it's wisdom, beautiful redemption, and daring faith. But something about this other side of the closet makes it all seem so...so...so...unappealing at times.

I can only conclude that it is not because it actually is, but because it's the exact opposite. Where the greatest resistance is felt to stay away---is the very thing I should run the hardest after.

The Word. His words.

I don't want to wonder if falling in love with The Word would change my life [and my world], I want to know---it did.

Home

Home is where I feel yesterdays bits of sand under my feet as I pace and sway across the wood floors with my baby in my arms in the wee hours of the night.

The sand doesn't bother me. I suppose it should, but what is a dirty floor in this fallen world?

Home is where I don't know how to comfort, don't know how to soothe, don't know how to make this baby stop crying. Praying. Asking. Jesus! What am I missing? What is wrong? Why is this happening?

A heavy head lays upon my shoulder and a slumber sets in. I look down and am overwhelmed as I envision the Lord pacing back and forth holding my friends in His arms. Their legs wrapped around His chest.

Oh the love [much deeper-higher-wider than mine] He feels for them.

Home is where I ask, What do I do? Little me. To soothe my crying friends
this week.

A friend who miscarried on her birthday.

A friend whose son has been told the cancer has spread.

A friend whose married ended.

A friend whose husband is infected and lying in a hospital bed.

A friend whose mother has been diagnosed with cancer.

A friend who is tormented with fear.

A friend who has lost a family member.

Home is...not here. This, this world, is not my home.

***

Everyday

[photo credit: Caty Collier, our sitter]

Everyday...

...i say things I don't mean and hope they forget them

...i say things I mean and hope they never forget them

...am surprised when my middle child rises early

...for 3 years he never fails to break the morning silence with "juice?"

...i wish I'd done the dishes the night before

...it seems to take me all day to do them

...i consider brushing teeth & hair [occasionally face] "getting ready"

...i remember when I took an hour or two "getting ready" [what was I doing?]

...i complain about the day to day chores, messes, diaper changes, and meals

...i remember there are those without houses to clean, children to make messes, diapers to use, or ingredients for dinner

Someone once said, 

"Your life is made up of 'todays',

what you do today will be what you do with your life". 

Reminding myself of this everyday, helps me remember that habits and love not practiced today won't magically appear in the legacy I leave.

When Seasons Change

When Seasons Change...

...I'm somewhere in between ready for the last season to be over and "can't wait" for the next season all the while knowing that before I know it...I'll be feeling just the same way about this season as I was the last---ready for the next.

I was born and raised in Texas, which has...basically...one season. Hot. Okay, two seasons, Hot & Humid. Neither which work well with naturally curly frizzy hair. Moving to Georgia my sophomore year in high school was the best thing that ever happen to the locks attached to my head. They throughly enjoy those few months between summer and spring to hold those hot roller-curls and soak up the compliments like bounty paper towels.

Being in Ohio, we did enjoy the snow, but the cold there [and here] I'm over. It's mid May and my heater has been on this week? I'm ready for the warm. Ready to break out the capri's and skirts and rock the Rainbows till November, or December. As for my hair, well, it will mainly stay in a pony tail.

As for other season in my life. The season of packing, unpacking, moving, packing, unpacking, traveling, looking to move, packing, moving, unpacking---is---hopefully over. We've been here in our new house for two weeks and I'm looking forward to the next season of---no boxes.

Another season I've been thinking about is, baby bump time. Normally around the time my baby is a year, I get pregnant, and I'd love to be pregnant like...yesterday, but am trying to faithfully finish Weight Watchers. I'm growing tired of this season of no baby in my belly, but looking forward to it maybe this Fall. But then again, looking around at all these boxes [and my pregnant friends] I'm maybe still thankful for that heater on, maybe I'm not quite ready to be lugging that huge belly around up and down these stairs. But maybe I am.

You forget how much work it is!

Seasons, they are a funny thing. They encompass that "grass is greener on the other side" more than anything else in life.

If I Could, I Would...

If I could, I would...travel the world.

I'd take my family, my camera, and preferably a nanny. I'd go to each continent, and prayerfully nearly every country. I'd eat, sleep, and photography every culture. Seeing all what and who God created. I'd spread His name with my mouth and with my hands. Teaching my children to live beyond the "American Dream". Giving them the experience of a lifetime praying it benefit them for a lifetime as well.

I'd write about it.

I wouldn't worry about how much it cost, or be afraid it would be too hard [without help!]. I'd just GO. Nothing holding us back. I'd teach my kids about the world, by showing them. They would have the most adventurous colorful, childhood...ever.

If I could, I would...GO.

[Writing this makes me wonder, what is really to stop us]

What about you? If you could...what would you do?