holy_unplugged

Prayers of Petition and Thanksgiving: For houses big and small

fionackeller@gmail.com (Fiona Keller) — Tue, 12 Apr 2022 13:24:02 GMT

Father, I thank You for these man-made shells, which become our homes as they fill with noise and laughter, silence and tears, memories and hopes. I thank You for their protection, for the safety found within. I thank You for the life that grows surrounded by these walls; a place we make our own.

Amen

Prayers of Petition and Thanksgiving: For sinks full of dishes

fionackeller@gmail.com (Fiona Keller) — Tue, 12 Apr 2022 13:15:35 GMT

When complaints often come easier than thanksgiving - I thank you Father for these dishes, which signify food and drink aplenty. I thank You for each mouth that partook of meals together.

Amen

Prayer of Petition and Thanksgiving: for the homeschooling mom nearing the end of the school year.

fionackeller@gmail.com (Fiona Keller) — Tue, 29 Mar 2022 22:45:23 GMT

Mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance. Jude 1:2

Most gracious and loving Heavenly Father, I thank You for You have sustained me through this school year. I thank You for Your provision of strength and energy even on the hardest of days. I thank You for walking with me on the mountain tops: the moments of joy, the times of bonding and fellowship, the times when the learning and the teaching came easily.

I thank You for journeying with me through the valleys. On the days I wanted to give up. During times of frustration and grumblings. On the days when learning was hard and teaching even harder.

I thank You that I never left the shadow of Your wings and that You have seen me, valued me and noticed me as I have sought to lead and serve my family in this way.

Lord, we are nearing the end of this season and oftentimes feel the increasing need for rest, for reprieve and refueling. Some days Lord, it feels like summer will never come. And yet some days time flies and I become aware again of the limited time I have with these dear ones whom I am not only tasked with teaching, but also with parenting and loving.

Father, it is my desire to finish well. That we will not succumb to wishing away the time together, nor give in to half-hearted efforts put forth. Help us to find balance between being present in the here and now and thinking ahead to plans for the summer and next school year

May You continue to be the source of my daily strength and joy. Remind me of my calling to teach during this season and equip me each day to face challenges with grace, love, humor and humility. Renew my spirit and uplift me as I seek to lead these children towards You, keeping my mind focused and my heart seeking You above all else.

In Jesus' name

Amen

Prayers of Repentance: When I have wandered and need to return to Your presence

fionackeller@gmail.com (Fiona Keller) — Tue, 29 Mar 2022 17:57:05 GMT

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

You are with me always, Lord. You do not leave, You do not abandon. Nor do You push, pressure or suffocate. You wait patiently, whilst I, so distracted by life’s bumps and turns, lose my way and wander away from Your path.

My heart wonders where You have gone, but the truthful answer is ‘nowhere.’ You are ever-present, always constant, secure and steadfast. It is I who has wandered. Not so much from forgetfulness or lack of desire for You, but having allowed myself to be overcome by the distractions around me. I have chosen time away from You over time with You. Even though these choices do not feel intentional, they have nevertheless left me feeling empty. Like there is a chasm between us and I have failed yet again.

Forgive me Lord for my ever flitting thoughts, my oft distracted mind and my misplaced priorities. Forgive my choices to ‘escape’ rather than dwell, to fix rather than place at Your feet, to flick through endless technological reels instead of soaking in Your words.

Help me Lord. Draw me back into Your arms, allowing Your forgiveness to penetrate my soul and saturate my very being. Call me gently, nudge me, hold my hand and walk with me. Focus my eyes and my heart for You. Let me be captivated by Your presence, enraptured by Your fragrance, held fast by Your loving gaze upon me.

Thank You Father.

Amen

Prayers of Petition and Thanksgiving: For School Mornings

fionackeller@gmail.com (Fiona Keller) — Tue, 29 Mar 2022 17:53:05 GMT

You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence. Psalm 16:11

Dear Lord,

In these morning moments, fleeting as they are, before the onslaught of frantic chaos begins, anchor me firmly to You. Flood me with Your peace, Your words, Your kindness. That out of an overflow of You, those under my charge may be drawn to You, may start their day with calm focus and love.

As I can barely peel my eyes open, my body weary and not ready to begin this day anew, grant me patience, strength, energy and a supernatural ability to hold my tongue.

Watch over these sweet souls for me throughout the day. Shelter their minds, guard their hearts, protect their bodies. Draw them to You!

To You Lord, I commit this day, those I love and these coming moments together as our day begins.

In Jesus’ Name I pray,

Amen

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. Isaiah 40:31

fionackeller@gmail.com (Fiona Keller) — Sun, 20 Mar 2022 23:41:01 GMT

Prayer for Our hurting world (Ukraine focus)

Lord in Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

Greatest Heavenly Father, You are Sovereign over all nations. You are worthy of all our honour, all our praise, all our love. You see all the atrocities and failings of mankind and yet You love us. Forgive us each our sins, which are so many. Cleanse us and purify our hearts, molding us more and more into Your likeness each day.

Lord in Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

We come before You with burdened and saddened hearts. We look on from afar at the harrowing cruelties of war being inflicted on so many and so much of Your creation and we are grieved. Lord, as stories of war and hardship come to us from so many places, let our hearts never grow cold, never be unaffected by what we see and hear. Holy Spirit prompt us and lead our hearts to petition for those who are suffering so greatly, bringing them before Your throne time and again.

Lord in Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

As we sit in the comfort of safety, of homes intact and relative peace around us, may we be ever mindful of our blessings and your grace upon us and ever convicted to intercede for our suffering brothers and sisters and for those who do not yet know You. May we be reminded that You are as ever present, your grace as ever flowing in the midst of the hard, challenging and downright awful, as You are in the good, the easy and pleasant. You are as ever willing, ever available and ever-loving during times and places of war as during times and places of peace.

Lord in Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

Father, we lift before You now places in this world which have been ravaged and torn apart by war, by environmental disasters, by political unrest. We remember those places not in the news, which have experienced great suffering in recent times. Afghanistan, Lebanon, Myanmar, Bangladesh, Yemen, Ethiopia. Just a few names of the many countries suffering.

Lord In Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

We ask You to give wisdom to people in positions of authority. Fill those people, who have power to control war and peace, with Your compassion and discernment.

Lord In Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

This day we lift the people of Ukraine before You. We humbly ask You to intervene. May Your hand of protection fall around the people of that country, guarding the innocent lives so under threat of harm and death. Shelter them from the choices, greed and selfishness of others. We raise before you the people of Mariupol who are bearing the brunt of endless bombing, cut off aid and dwindling supplies. Lord, we ask Your protection and provision for them. May Your presence be known and felt, not only as Your people move on the ground to be Your hands and feet, but we ask You to move supernaturally. Lord, thwart the plans of the enemy. Cause evil plans to fall into disarray and crumble and bring light and hope in its place.

Lord, In Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

Where death, destruction, loss, homelessness, sorrow, injury, pain and psychological terror have become the daily norm for the Ukrainian people, we ask that You would bind the brokenhearted, holding them close to You. Become hope for those who have lost hope, be peace for those who are terrorized and traumatized. Be a soothing balm to those who are hurting in so many ways.

Lord In Your Mercy, Hear Our Prayer

Father, our words are often inadequate to express the extent of hurt and needs and suffering. So we hold these people before You now, committing them to You and enter a time of personal prayer.

Lord in Your Mercy Hear our Prayers.

In Jesus’ Name

Amen

Living with Lemons

Wed, 10 Mar 2021 17:07:26 GMT

Well hello there friend. Please make yourself comfy. It’s good to catch up. I’m sitting down to talk to you after quite the week! It’s not what I had planned and whilst not horrendous, fortunately, it’s certainly made for some quick adjustments to our daily life. I have one word: Quarantine. It sort of conjures up images of animals being brought into a country from overseas. At least, that was the total of my experience of quarantine up until last week. Now we’ve lived through lock-downs and activity restrictions so far this last year, but the ‘don’t go anywhere, don’t see anyone, try to keep contaminated people separate from the rest of the family,’ well that’s a new one. We are lucky, unlike so many. So far, it’s not been bad. A couple of individuals with minor symptoms and the rest - nothing. At least not yet. I had not realised how long the quarantine restrictions were in this state, maybe everywhere I really don’t know, until the bombshell of the positive Covid test happened last week. Weeks of togetherness that I’m sure I should be treasuring. Lots of questions and really not many answers. No one can tell you who will get sick and how bad. No one knew how we’d come to have a positive case in our house either. We’d been so careful. We’d done due diligence and yet here we were facing a purgatory sentence with one another.

I’m going to be honest, I didn’t handle it terribly well. I was quite irritated that this inconvenience was landing in our laps. I had lots of practical concerns over the shopping, the earnings, the schooling. I oscillated between bouts of frustration and panic. Oh I knew God had it in control, but my mind was racing. I’d gone into survival mum mode and that switch would not turn off. I was mentally trying to figure out how to ‘get caught up’ with the washing and the cleaning in case I was the next to succumb to this brutally unpredictable illness. We had tears as I told the kids and my second oldest realised she’d be spending her birthday in quarantine. Last year’s celebrations had also been curtailed and amended. It was a trivial point in the scheme of the universe, but to her it was everything. We’re still hoping no one is actually ill on her birthday as we have tried to come up with ways to make the date special even though it’s just us - again. My reactions - and they were that - were coming off the back of sleepless nights, a teething baby, and my own frustratingly ongoing medical saga. I was done in and then Covid. Covid, no less with the one family member who ends up needing an inhaler and nebuliser anytime anything goes to their chest. I knew God was around here somewhere, but I wasn’t really feeling it. The daily rhythms that I’d just started to find again after the fog of postnatal of depression had begun to lift, were rudely interrupted and cast aside, as I had no idea how to find time or space for quiet in the house of never-ending noise. I love my family. I just didn’t know if I could love them enough through this and save my sanity at the same time.

I’d love to say that a week in we’ve figured this out. That I’ve found a rhythm and life has been one giant time of bonding and thriving. No, that’s not us. We’ve had rough days and meltdowns and pacing the floors like caged animals. I am so grateful that today, as I write this, the sun has been out and we’ve been outside. Warmth. At last. But we’re starting to settle. I’m starting to accept the endless grazing and dishes from having everyone at home. The increased workload that each day brings. But it’s OK. Lemons.

There’s the saying I’ve heard time and again, “when life gives you lemons, you just have to make lemonade.” I think there is truth in this. We have definitely had our lemonade moments. I have watched my oldest take on caring for a younger sibling in a selfless, loving, servant-hearted way. I was so proud to watch it unfold and it makes up for so much of the smart-mouthing phase of life we are in right now. We have watched movies and baked cookies and read books and made up stories. We have bounced on the trampoline and played flashlight tag. Yes, we’ve had our moments of lemonade and they have been good. Very good. But honestly, the rest of the time we are just living with lemons. Sometimes, I think life is like that.

We want to make the best of things and indeed we even try to do that at times, but I think there are times that we just have to be OK with being in a place of living with the hard, the tough and the challenging. Sometimes we have to live with mundane and mediocre - and sometimes those things are the best that life is going to get at that time. Sometimes, we just have to hold the lemons in our hands and acknowledge that they are there. We don’t always have to have a perfect solution to the trials that we face. We don’t always have to travel through the valleys with grace - although that would be ideal. We don’t always have to have answers or reasons or understanding for why things are the way they are. Sometimes this is just life and we just have to hold onto those lemons and let them be part of our life. Yes, I know that sounds strange.

The funny thing with lemons though, is that though they are bitter to the taste, they are beautiful to look at and the scent can be refreshing. I start to wonder if, when I stop trying to make lemonade all the time and start to accept that those lemons may sit in the bowl on my counter for quite a while, I can nevertheless find the beauty. I’m not saying that tragic events and hardships have some sort of silver lining. Sometimes they just don’t. In fact, probably mostly they just don’t. But I do know that there is a redemption story that is at work in my life, no matter what is going on. So, I do know that there will continue to be moments of making lemonade. I do know that when I sit and look at those lemons, I mean really look, I will start to see just where that beautiful yellow sunshiny colour has been the whole time. God hasn’t gone anywhere. So that means that in the midst of living with lemons He is continuing to weave a redemption story. He is continuing to refine, continuing to uphold, continuing to encourage, to bring peace, to provide. It doesn’t mean that the circumstances have changed. It doesn’t mean that the outcome will be any different. It just means that God is as busy working while the lemons sit there as He is when I’m squeezing them like crazy to make lemonade. And if God will live with me and my lemons, then I’m starting to think that maybe being in this place is OK.

Grounded

Sun, 21 Feb 2021 22:11:29 GMT

Hello dear friends. I’m so glad you stopped by. Let me wish you a heartfelt Christmas season blessing. May you experience a deep-seated joy this season. One not found because of the abundance of privileged living, not because of the splendour of activities and beauty of lavish decorations….though may you find enjoyment in these things and a heart filled with thanksgiving for them. But may you find the life-giving joy that comes from knowing that you are known and loved by a beautiful, wonderful, Father and Saviour. I think, this year probably more than most, is a year when we so desperately need to tap into this joy and into the peace that it also brings. If your holidays have been stream-lined and brought to a place of simplicity, may you experience rest for your soul. May you experience the gift of time for pouring into life-giving conversations and relationships...even if that is over a screen. And my friend, may you be blessed with the gift of hope. Hope for the future, which keeps the light burning within us as we wade through times of darkness and struggle.

Sit with me awhile. Can you breathe in some stillness? Can you close your eyes and just let go? Just relax. Can you look out your window and take in something of the beauty of creation? Join me on this wintry day, the snow has fallen outside and it is cold. At least, cold outside. The heating is going, there are blankets and sweaters and fuzzy slippers surrounding me. I can admire the beauty of the white blanket that has enveloped my outside world, all from the safety of my cocooned inner world. I have pondered these past weeks about the words I could write, that they would mean something and not just be clutter filling a void. I have thought about the abundance of articles written in time for the holidays, bringing our focus onto the true meaning of the season, of the encouragements and seasonal salutations, of the writings looking to the future and the new year ahead and reflecting back on what has been and I find myself wondering, what do I have to say? What can I say that hasn’t been said a hundred times before? The answer to this question may, of course, be nothing. Maybe my message is one that has been heard time and again and maybe it serves a purpose in that. But maybe in our conversation, we might give an ear to the Lord for a quiet nudge of something He wants to share with us.

“Quiet” is a relative term in my house. It really is something that only truly occurs for a brief time after everyone is asleep - usually temporarily. During the day there is a constant barrage of sound. Machines rumble, voices echo throughout the house, footsteps pitter patter or probably more accurately thump with a sound that is more akin to that of a herd of elephants passing by. Objects clatter, phones ring, bleep and beep. Alarm clocks go off at unexpected times and ring continually until I can find the room they are located in. TV shows get turned on and left running, video games blast, violins squeak, pianos plonk and guitars send vibrations through the walls and the floors. Questions, conversations. I love it all….most of the time, except for the moments when I’m ready to tear my hair out. I’d give anything for a moment of peace and quiet. A chance to sip a drink while it’s still hot, to read a page in a book without interruption. Thinking space is hard to come by on a regular basis.

This constant hailstorm of noise and information has been intensified this last year, courtesy of the additional time we’ve spent together. The time together is not something that I’m sad about, on the contrary, it has been enjoyable a lot of the time, but it has made me aware of a shift in thinking that needs to happen - at least within my own life. A change in the way I work, do life and most importantly walk with the Lord. During these months of noise, I have found the Lord teaching me about an inner quiet and more about inviting him into every corner of my life. There is importance in silence and solitude. Uninterrupted conversation with the One who keeps the world spinning, mine, yours and everyone else’s. The reality, of course, is that silence and solitude is not always easy to create. A chance to get away from it all, is nye impossible. For many right now, these things I crave are a heavy burden. People alone and desperate for noise to fill their homes. So, it is with eyes open that I pen these words, recognizing the challenge I face is not the challenge of another.

Never has the divide between extremes been so palpable. On one level, I am grateful for my noise. On another level, I am desperate for the chance to hear myself think. I would give anything for a piece of your quiet and you’d give anything for a piece of my cacophony. And still, we find ourselves here. Unable to change where we are and who we are with or without. So, in this unchangeable place that I find myself, I must find a way to embrace it, live it and love it. I must find an inner quiet that can resonate in the chambers of my heart when all around me the humdrum continues. I must find a silence within my mind that tunes out the bombarding, attention demanding distractions that relentlessly pursue a part of me. Somehow I need to enable that quieted mind and overflowing heart to relentlessly pursue a relationship with my Saviour with that same vigour and determination that my smallest child uses when she wants to hold onto me. Father, help me! It sounds so easy. But it seems so impossible. Like I’m standing at the foot of a mountain. Quiet, stillness, in my heart and my mind? Finding You in the laundry pile and the homework? Never have you, Lord, seemed so near and yet so far out of reach! But I know, that really you’re not. You haven’t gone anywhere.

This is where I find myself. Trying to embrace during this present season of life. Coming to a place where my communion with God is not limited to the place that I am in. It walks with me throughout my day into every nook and cranny. Changing everything about every moment. It is in the thick of the battle field. Believe me when I tell you that my home looks like a war of cereal and pillows, with landmines of building blocks thrown in.

There’s a grounding that happens in our lives when we fill moments with God, like somehow the feet of my soul have rooted themselves down deep and the storms can swirl around me and the noise can be like thunder, but that anchoring will not be moved. A peace and a calm, which is not based upon that which surrounds us. It allows us freedom to move through our day a little lighter.

It all sounds quite idyllic really. Peace, calm, grounding, freedom. Who wouldn’t want that? The problem that I find before me, is, of course, how exactly we achieve this. That is, if it is something to be ‘achieved’ in the first place. I certainly don’t profess to be an expert in this. Far from it, a veritable novice. I am typically easily swayed by the winds that blow and undone by the storms that come in. I struggle to find time for prayer and reflection, never-mind deep biblical study. It is in this place that I come to feel that there must be a better way and upon this quest that I start to find tools to help me.

To find rhythms and ‘rituals’ in my spiritual life, I am coming to recognize a need for them in my daily life. Not in a legalistic fashion - and I must guard against this - but in a way that brings windows of opportunity for engaging with the sacred even within the most unholy confines of my quotidian life. Whilst my day is never going to run on a military schedule, it can nevertheless have recurring moments and themes that facilitate moments of divine connection. Coffee and a page of an inspirational book to start my day. Five minutes of my time. Maybe longer if I’m lucky. But brain fuel, as well as body. Words written by far holier, far more devoted, educated and connected people, but words that can inspire, that can give my mind thinking fuel as I commence the tasks for the day. If habits take time to establish, then starting small, seems a good place to begin, because surely trying to turn myself into a chant-singing, Bible-reciting scholar, with the patience of a Saint, is not going to happen in one swift go. For the years I have spent cultivating the many unhealthy habits that I possess, I can guarantee that the adoption of new, life-bringing ones is likely to take a while. ‘Small’ means I don’t give up in defeat when I fall at the first milestone.

I have recently discovered the beauty of liturgical prayers. I have not spent much time in churches that embrace a full liturgical life, so this is a newer experience to me. Though I have made use of pre-worded prayers before. These have been especially helpful during the (many) times that I have found myself without words to pray or with so many words that I don’t know where to start. I have also found a beauty within these prayers, not only for helping me express my heart but also to calm my mind, attune my senses and bring a focus to my thoughts. Like a delightful piece of poetry, these prayers bring enjoyment, fulfillment and grounding. There is also immeasurable comfort in realising that many of these things I feel and think are also thought, felt and expressed (!) by others. I am not alone. I am joined with the rest of humanity in my humanity.

Snatching a moment to read through a prayer. In a minute. A quick, short minute, while I fill a cup, wait for a kettle to boil, eat a sandwich. Moments in time when I can engage with the Lord and keep my heart and mind attuned to higher things. I find that when my focus is….where it should be…then, perhaps unsurprisingly, I have a little more grace, a little more patience, a little more hope, a little more peace, a little more direction, a little more determined, a little more engaged, a little more aware of the Spirit’s prompting.

Little by little these treasures have opportunity to grow. Not because of any huge change that I have made, but simply because I have started to find the beauty in continued connection with the anchor holding me fast. That continued connection becomes something I crave and desire. The more I experience it, the more I want it and because it grows gradually at a pace I can sustain, it grows with me and I with it. The temptation to feel dissatisfied in ‘slow and steady’ is rendered empty because I not only learn to appreciate the blessings in journey, avoiding feelings of not being enough, but I see forward movement in the continual flow of conversation, the spoken and the heard. Does that mean that I won’t slide backwards ever? Not at all. Of course, there will probably be many days and seasons when I don’t have my priorities in order, when I choose to forgo connection for the sake of something else. There will be time and again that I blow it. But the wonderful thing about God, is that He will nevertheless be there waiting for me.

May I encourage you? Encourage you to find your moments? To look for opportunity through your day to snatch connection and to find the rhythms that work for you? Your ‘thing’ may not be coffee and a book. Maybe yours is in walking through your garden. Maybe yours is in baking treats or painting pictures or knitting socks. Maybe that is where you find your minutes and moments to connect with God. But I am certain, as you allow the rhythms to hold a place within your life, the grounding too will come. The peace, the steady drip drip of living water. So, my friend, in the midst of the crazy, the noise, the endless demands, let me offer you this assurance: God’s presence through it all and His gentle quiet that can fill your heart, your mind and your soul.

To my friend on the other side of the tracks

Mon, 23 Nov 2020 21:56:22 GMT

Hello my friend and a hearty welcome to you. The sky is darkening as evening comes earlier each day and the rain is pattering down. I’m sitting inside, warmed by the light of a fire and lamp, listening to the drip drip of the raindrops hitting the ground outside. I have been reflecting upon the level of division and discord that seem to be permeating society at the moment. This lack of harmony is soaking down into the very fabric of individual relationships. What, at one time not so long ago, was flourishing has now seen the very things that joined it together being torn apart. For the Christian world, this is a devastation. They body of Christ slaying one another through words if not through actions. Offering condemnation instead of hope. Bringing bitterness instead of joy. Raising up self-righteousness instead of self-sacrifice. Giving in to pride instead of humility. Oh and the fall out my friend. The cost of this war? And the world looks on. What do they see when they look to the church? Dear friend my heart is grieved. I fear we have lost our focus. However, I do not think all is lost. God is better than that. He is in the business of restoration. The story of humanity has been one of restoration since the very beginning, or at the very least the offer of restoration. It is not imposed upon us, we are free to be part of the story or turn our back upon it.

I am pondering two pictures that have been in my mind for the last day or so. Let me share them with you. One is a picture of two friends standing on either side of some railway tracks. The sky is grey and cloudy. The area has a forlorn look about it. Run down. Industrial. Battered and bruised. Buildings abandoned long ago. Weeds poking up through cracks in concrete, rubbish littering the edge of the tracks. Carelessly discarded by passersby. There is no barrier running along the edge of tracks. It is exposed. Accessible: dangerously so. I would expect to see a crossing but there isn’t one. Not here.

The other image is much the same in appearance, though the sky is brighter. The stark difference is the foot-bridge, with stairs that ascend next to one side of the track, a footbridge across the tracks and another set of steps descending on the other side. It’s a pretty industrial looking bridge. Completely fitting for the surroundings. Made of metal, hard lines, robust. It’s not an attractive bridge, not a thing of postcards and romantic photos. No, it is very much placed and designed for purpose and work. To remain solid, to be a means to allow someone safely across the tracks.

As I consider these images, my mind is drawn to the two people separated by the tracks. I wonder what their story is. I get the feeling that at one time, they were walking together along a trail next to the railway line. But now they find themselves here. It was a scenic path. Fine weather, beautiful scenery, a few sticks to cause some stumbles, but really a smooth path. Trains come through here occasionally, but it doesn’t really bother these friends. They are walking side by side. Easily able to hear the other’s voice, to see their face, their expression. They can tell when their friend is getting tired and sorely in need of a rest. Their hand is ready to offer a steadying support when needed.

Gradually the scenery started to change, the woodland dispersed, the flowers disappeared, the fields started to look dry and the appearance of concrete became increasingly frequent. At some point along this walk, there was a gentle, sloped pedestrian crossing to get over to the other side of the line. One friend crossed and the other kept walking. They could still talk, the gap wasn’t that far, but now sometimes when trains came by, they lost sight of one another. Sometimes, debris from the train dropped down on one side or another, sometimes hitting, sometimes tripping one or other of these friends. The trouble was that there wasn’t someone there to pick them up. They were separated by the tracks. When the train had passed, these friends would check in with each other but it got harder and sometimes the injuries sustained needed more than words could provide. There was bandaging that needed to be done, but no hands to do it. Tears to be wiped and a shoulder to cry on, but no arms to hold and comfort.

As the journey continued the frequency of trains hurtling by grew greater and greater. The scenery became dull. It became unattractive. It became unpleasant. And conversation grew harder and harder. Finally these friends stopped walking. They stopped, surrounded by the dirty, grimy, broken place they were now in. They stood and looked at one another. They each knew that the other needed them. They could see the pain. They could see the scuffs from the stumbling, the scrapes from flying rubbish. But they didn’t have the words to say. Each time one friend would try to cross those tracks, along came a train. There was no safe passage across. These trains were big, bulky things. Carrying the weight of the world. Sometimes fast moving and sometimes chugging slowly along. Sometimes carrying noisy passengers who enjoyed shouting out of the windows and staring at the friends as they passed by. Sometimes carrying freight, which spilled over the edge, dropping fragments along its path.

Time and again they tried to cross but there didn’t seem to be a way. Defeated and with shoulders slumped, each friend started to think about walking away. It would be easier than trying to get over the divide. But neither were ready to give up just yet. Each knew there had to be a way. They waited. They tried to start talking again. It was hard. The trains didn’t suddenly stop coming. This time though, these friends, they remembered that there was a station master who could help them cross. Both these friends knew this station master, it’s just that in the midst of all the noise and the flying debris and the obstacles, they’d forgotten that he was the one who could bridge the divide.

One of those friends put in a call and perhaps to their surprise found that a staircase was not far away from them. They started walking towards the steps and slowly started to climb. They were weary. They’d been standing for a long time. There were quite a few steps to get to the top and strangely these steps had names. Humility. Repentance. Grace. Understanding. Gentleness. Self-control. Forgiveness. Unity. As they were climbing they looked over and could see their friend doing the same thing. They could see when their friend lost footing and slipped as a train came hurtling by. They could see their friend trying. Their friend could see them too. Sometimes it would take a minute to catch their breath but these friends, they kept on climbing.

At the top of the steps was a footbridge. Built to hold the weight of all those people who would need to cross those tracks. It wasn’t fragile, it didn’t shake and rattle when the trains went by and printed firmly into the path was Love. These friends, well they met again on that bridge and they started to talk. Words came slowly at first, gradually gaining speed until conversation was flowing as though it had never stopped. From here they could see the trains coming down the track, but up on this bridge, there was no flying debris to hit them. They could talk about the coming train and how big or fast it seemed. They could see whether it was carrying people or things and they could see how loose the cargo may be. They learned which type of trains had caused the most pain to each other, which caused the most nervousness, which the most dread. Sometimes there would be a gush of wind that could rock their footing a little, but the bridge was firm and strong. When these friends stood on this bridge, they were safe. Holding the rail for stability. The great divide was down below. They could still see it but it no longer kept them apart. It was still ugly around them but the sun was coming out and lighting up shards of glass and reflecting beauty in a strange sort of way.

Dear friend - if you find yourself on the other side of the track, I am sorry. Won’t you climb the steps with me?

The value of a good friend

Fri, 23 Oct 2020 17:53:21 GMT

Good morning my dear one. Welcome, come in. The rain is pouring and I am relishing the feeling of comfort as I sit in warmth and look out the window at the beautiful shades of colour on the trees. I love the reds and yellows of autumn. The inspiring landscape that is created by this palette of colour. The shades and hues only seen at this time of year, fleetingly at that, for they don’t stick around long. Enjoying beauty all the while knowing that a starkness is coming. A sense of brooding as the landscape falls into slumber in preparation for new growth and it’s awakening once again. Join me, if you will, sipping mugs of soul-warming hot drinks and looking outside.

Friendship - like the blanket that I wrap myself in: warm, inviting security. A feeling of safety and comfort not only on the rainy or windy days, but also on the days when the sun is shining on those crisp autumn days.

Do you have one? Or maybe two or three? Friends that is, not blankets?.... Though I hope you have some favorite blankets too! I’m not talking about the myriad of ‘friends’ we have on social media or the dozens of ‘friends’ we have at church or the co-workers whom we know more about than just working together but the friendship or acquaintanceship remains at a superficial level. I’m not talking about the fair-weather friends who are around while life is rosy but conveniently disappear when the frost sets in and the blustery winds start whipping around the corner. I am talking about the people in your life who you probably couldn’t shake off even if you tried! - not that you'd ever want to. They are the people who rejoice with you on the mountaintops and mourn with you in the valleys. They are the people who see you in the pit and throw a rope down to pull you out. They show up in the crisis and take over the helm. They inspire you to be your best self and love you enough to challenge you on your journey. Have you found your tribe? They may be few in number but they wield a power that no army could contest with.

A need for friendship seems to be built into the framework of who we are. We were made for community and relationship. My all time favorite books are the Anne of Green Gables series. I could read and reread these books. They warm my heart. To this day I find them relatable with timeless truths woven in the lines penned by a gifted writer. One of the parts I love the most about these books are the friendships Anne forms over time. Her 'bosom' friends. These characters walk life together, they stand fast through life's raging winds. They love, they laugh, they support, they put up with the rough edges and through this they grow a depth of love and understanding of one another and of themselves that brings joy to their lives and a security they wouldn't have had without it. These are the friends who maybe you don't see for a while but when you do it's like no time has passed. If you're fortunate enough to have these friends around you in your day to day living, I encourage you to thank God for this wonderful blessing.

Friends are a blessing. They are so often God's hands and feet. Sometimes his mouth too. Have you ever just received that 'coincidental' message from a friend who just said something that you needed to hear at just the moment you needed it? Isn't it wonderful? If these things I'm describing seem to be missing in your life dear one, do not fear. I promise you, you are friendship material…. Never let that lie permeate your skin. I have found that whilst sometimes friends just kind of show up…. Actually praying for deep, meaningful friendships is a powerful way to open doors to new growth in relationships. Now don't expect your friends to fill voids that only God will fill or to live up to misplaced expectations, but do trust God to use them to grow you, to minister to you, to encourage and uphold you.

Of course, friendship is a two way thing. It would be very easy to sit here and expect another to do all the work, put in all the effort and to just receive blessing without extending it. That, however, is not the nature of a relationship. It is there to be a reciprocating connection. We can learn this through the way God interacts with us. He teaches us about different relational qualities, from parent to spouse to friend. He never stops being God. Supreme King, Ruler over all, Creator of everything. He also never stops wanting to sit down for coffee with us and talk. As we look to Him, we can be inspired to be a good friend. To be 'that' friend to another. I'm talking about the solid rock, in it until the end kind of friend…. Not the 'that' weird and wacky friend we all love! Though maybe we are both! We see an abundant need of servant-heartedness and humility. A willingness to sacrifice our own conveniences sometimes in order to offer a met need to someone else.

I think sometimes on our journeys, we do also have to take stock of our inventory if you will. To prayerfully evaluate the relationships in our lives and to ask God to show us where change is needed. To have confidence in Him, if He calls us to step back from or away from certain friendships, which do not set us on the right course. To allow us to invest our time wisely. To steward not only our time well, but also our emotional resources. Sometimes this is probably easier to do than others. In this world ‘friend’ has become a bit of a ‘throw away’ sort of term used to describe all manner of relationships with the hundreds, if not thousands of people we interact with in person and digitally. If we do not exercise caution and allow God to hold the scale and the sieve, we stand to do not only ourselves a great disservice but also those people to whom we ourselves have become a member of their tribe.

Can I encourage you on your way today? Take a moment of gratitude today for your friends, no matter how few in number they may be - and reach out to them. Let them know how loved and appreciated they are, because we all need to hear that sometimes.

You are.....

Wed, 30 Sep 2020 20:05:54 GMT

Truth Speaks

Hello there friend. How are you? Want to join me at the table, pour a cup of tea and share a plate of biscuits? Or maybe your vice is coffee?! I’ve been pondering some thoughts since an appointment I had the other day. I thought I'd share them. I was laying on the table at a physio appointment as my therapist continued the arduous task of trying to mend this broken mama body and I found myself apologising for the state of my food smeared clothes. The baby treats that had been affectionately wiped across my shirt through the course of the appointment. Yes, there was a tiny human in my appointment too. We laughed over how I had to venture out into the world looking like this - not ideal when your next stop is not home. But it is something that I’m used to. Dirty clothes. It’s just the season I am in, I’ve learned to accept it even though I don’t particularly like it. This all consuming life that demands a lot. Where being clean lasts all of 5 minutes in the morning and getting clean usually involves ‘help.’ Where thinking space is non-existent and quiet is a concept that evades you. Where personal space is an unknown term. Motherhood.

In the midst of this, do you ever feel like you’ve lost yourself? There’s no other job that can leave you feeling so unsure of yourself. So nervous, so desperate, so exhausted. So lacking, talent-less and gift-less. That can make you examine yourself to the deepest level. There’s also no job that can make you feel so important. So essential, so needed and valued. No job that can teach you so much about yourself and teach you so many new skills. It’s an art form within its own right and requires versatility, adaptability and creativity to survive. It’s the greatest of gifts and the greatest of demands. The greatest of pleasures and the greatest of heartaches. A job where there are no certificates for mothering accomplishments, no accolades and awards, no cheering crowds, no letters of distinction after your name. Though really, maybe there should be.

I have to confess to struggling through a time when words don’t flow freely. When this desire in my heart to write seems to have been somewhat stifled and feelings of inadequacy have crept in. Where this sense of being ‘less than’ has been filling my spirit. Notions of not being enough, of being unlovable, of failing, of having no purpose, no gifts or talents. I know they are not true. Yet somehow these feelings seem to dig their pokey little fingers and settle beneath the surface of my skin. Spewing lies. Self-condemnation. Defeat. Oh enemy of my soul, how you know where to hit. How to rattle confidence. Sometimes I think that our enemy likes to give us the one-two punch. Hit us where it hurts the most and really set off our anxiety or fear. Those things that can cripple us in a single blow. But sometimes it’s more subtle. The slow drip, drip, drip of negativity. Little nudges of ‘you’re just not any good,’ ‘no one could love that.’ These thoughts are slippery. They gain ground because the drip drip just continues like a leaky old tap. You think you can tighten the handle enough to stop the drip but the reality is that you can never tighten it enough. You need a plumber to come in and really fix the problem, replace the faulty parts and then tighten things up.

Our souls are a bit like that, don’t you think? We need the Master plumber to come in and root out those faulty joins. Rid us of those niggling thoughts and feelings and replace them with trustworthy truth. Truth that will build us up and encourage us. Truth that tells us how much we are loved and how much we are worth. Truth that reminds us that we don’t have to meet an invisible bar of perfection in any area of our life. Truth that tells us that what He calls us to do, He will equip us to do. That we don’t have to have the skills now for the things He will ask of us in the future. Truth that declares my mistakes can be forgiven and doesn’t expect or ask perfection. Just a humble, mold-able, willing Spirit.

Dear friend, hear me now. It is so easy to succumb to these feelings and thoughts of being ‘less than’ and of having nothing to offer the world. But it just isn’t true. Each and every one us, uniquely created, was given talents and gifts that are worth something. Sometimes those might be visible to the world outside and sometimes not. Sometimes they are secretly woven into the fabric of your being. Being used all the time and shared with those around you through the art of subtlety and gentleness. Did you know, friend that your quiet words and gentle touch...those are gifts? To your friends, to your family, to God’s kingdom. There is work that only you can do for His kingdom with those skills, gifts and talents that you have. Did you know, friend, that your lovable, loud and boisterous personality that bubbles up laughter and brings joy into rooms - that my friend is a gift? It draws people to you and fills them up. Did you know, friend, that your attention to detail and your dedication to cleaning your house for the benefit of your family - those are gifts? God sees your hard work, even when it feels like no one else does - did you know that when you welcome people in, they feel at home? That you notice the little details and make their time with you uplifting and enjoyable? Their needs met? Did you know, friend, that your creative, impulsive spirit, that leaves your house a lovable disaster zone, is a gift? Your ability to embrace the moment, to create memories and try new things? Those are gifts - to your family and friends. Did you know that no one notices the mess, because when they are with you, you draw them along for the ride to just experience life and focus on relationship?

Oh my fellow sisters, we live in a hard, hard world. And frankly, I doubt it’s going to get easier any time soon. We are surrounded by negativity. We are surrounded by a list of things we ‘should’ be and yet will never be. In a world of brokenness, unless we put up our shield and set our eyes upon Truth, we are on course to flounder. Here’s the thing. We don’t have to get through this alone. God made us for each other. This week, God has reminded me of this as He sent two lovely women to love on me through words and actions. He heard my struggles and sent me tangible reminders that I am loved, that I am precious, that I am doing OK.

Ladies, we have a job to do. Let us be our sisters-in Christ’s biggest cheerleaders. Oh friend, find your cheerleaders and surround yourself with them. They will hold you up, encourage you and hold you accountable. May we know more of ourselves and more of God as we see ourselves through the lenses of others. Let us be the best encouragement to that neighbour down the street. Let us love each other in our words and actions. Let us build each other up, in a world that wants to tear down. Let us bridge our differences in serving one another and praying for each other. Let us drop off a coffee ‘just because’ or fold someone else’s laundry. Let us drop a note in a mailbox that says - ‘you are loved.’ Let us pick a friend a day and pray blessings over them. Let us offer uplifting words to that worker in the supermarket. Let us wash the feet of that friend or neighbour who challenges every ideal we hold (literally or figuratively!)

Dear sisters. Why so downcast oh my soul? Words spoken before in the Psalms. They are not new to mankind. The medicine of course lays with our Saviour. But sometimes, that medicine is delivered through the words and actions of His people. Let us strive to do what we can to be a willing agent of peace, of encouragement, and identifier of the gifts in others - and then speak those out. Acknowledge them. Bless someone by uplifting them and highlighting the things that God has put into their lives that maybe they haven’t seen for themselves yet. Let us walk with the Spirit, allowing Him to reveal to us our own gifts as well as those of others. That we might see the Truth of who He created us to be. Let us be grateful that He weaves together these stories of our lives, intertwined as we grow together, allowing us to be part of His great redemption plan for humanity.

Encourage one another and build each other up. 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Dear sister, dear friend. On those days, or weeks or even months, when you feel as though you have nothing to offer this world, I am here to tell you, you do.

Our compass

Mon, 14 Sep 2020 20:50:07 GMT

Operating on a moral compass that is not Spirit led.

Welcome dear one. I’m so glad you are here!

As I was out walking around my neighbourhood today, I was reflecting on some of the personal challenges that I have found myself facing lately and how I’ve been handling them. Did my intent come through in my actions and words? Was my intention pure and God-focussed? I was thinking about how we’re living in a time when everyone has an opinion about everything and we all think we are right. How we, as people, are so capable of taking a stance on something and digging our heels in, often to the bitter end. Of unilaterally deciding that we’re right. Discussion over. I was pondering how, in my own life, I have been guilty of this. How ungracious this is. How unloving. How unkind it can be. How it can lead to pride and arrogance.

I definitely think there are times when our moral compasses, mine included, can operate from a place of simple humanity. Simply put, there isn’t any Spirit leading involved at all. I have set my mind that something is right or wrong, based on some form of self-created criteria, and I move through life from that position. Making decisions from that place. This is a problem. It isn’t glorifying to God and it probably has even more potential to cause a wave of unintended damage along the way.

I think one of the things I have been learning in this most recent of seasons is the art of listening and the art of humility. I am fully convinced they are both art forms within their own rights. There is skill in listening well. With ears to hear, not just waiting for a turn to interject my ‘point.’ It requires patience, a willing spirit and a heart that is tuned to something - someone - beyond itself. It walks hand in hand with humility, because learning to listen well, and I’m still learning, needs a humble heart. An attitude that says loving this other person is done through listening and serving. Hearing this other person is more important than hearing my own voice. Establishing dialogue and communication is more important than my ‘rightness.’

I have also seen the trap - and no doubt fallen into it at least a time or two - of believing myself to be in the right about something. Even many times of feeling a Spirit-led discernment about things, following this, acting accordingly. BUT I have put my blinkers on to a creeping sense of self-righteousness, which, if I’m honest, has the amazing ability of showing up even in situations where I feel I have surrendered to God and to His leading. What started out as obedience to the Spirit, conviction, a desire to do what is right and to follow Him, turns into something about me. Suddenly my moral compass that has its north rooted in Christ, reliant on the magnetic pull of the Spirit has turned into a moral compass that is not Spirit led. Oh the danger of that subtle shift. That slightly holier than thou attitude. Superiority. It plays so well to our fallen nature of self-service and self- gratification.

It’s something that I think has plagued humanity since the beginning. I am reminded of a sermon I was listening to about the book of Acts and the struggle that Peter faced when he was called to set aside some Jewish tradition as the gospel was to be shared with the gentiles (Acts 10.) How his ‘right way of doing things’ may have been in the way of furthering the message of the gospel. But his mind wasn’t changed by himself, it shifted because his moral compass was Spirit-led, because his life-compass was governed by the magnetic pull of the Spirit. He was walking in tune with the Spirit and was listening to His voice. God spoke. He listened. He walked in obedience. He grew in serving all sorts of people, with all sorts of ideas and views on things and as a result, many people heard about Jesus, because his spirit was rooted in listening to the voice of the Spirit. His work for the kingdom was huge. Am I saying that we’re all going to do work for the kingdom that rivals Peter’s? No. But I am saying that a moral and life compass that is aligned with the Spirit can produce fruit. Big and small.

So in pondering these things, I find myself asking how I cultivate a life that has it’s ‘north’ set to the Spirit? How do I avoid functioning with a moral compass that is not Spirit-led? How humility and listening skills can continue to grow within me? How these changes within will be reflected on the outside? I think about how our world desperately needs a people who love like God loves and serve like Jesus serves.

My mind turns back to thinking about how the art of humility requires me to serve others before myself and in order to do that I need the art of listening. In order to hear well, I need the art of gentle humility. They are so intertwined. In growing these skills, through prayer, practise, patience, studying, accountability, worship, I gain ground in recognising needs and hurts and passions in others. I gain ground in being able to set aside my views in order to understand another’s, ( I am not saying that you have to agree with their view. You can love well, listen well, serve well, without sharing the same viewpoint.) And I gain ground in being able to extend grace to others that is more than I could humanly muster, as the God who pours out His infinite grace upon me, replenishes me and grows my capacity so that it overflows to others. Through this, I believe we can build bridges, forge relationships and bring healing. People drawn back to Him, united through His Spirit. As the only source of being saved from ourselves.

Dear aching mummy heart.....

Wed, 02 Sep 2020 02:33:31 GMT

Dear aching mummy heart....

Hello there friend, won’t you come in and join me a while? I’ve brought a box of tissues….just in case. Oh my heart is aching, is yours? I feel like, at the moment, there’s just one big thing on my mind and that is what comes next for my kids. I’m guessing that may be weighing on your mind too. I feel like there’s such a gamut of emotion all tangled up here.

Dear aching mummy heart, you are not alone.

It’s something I think that almost every mummy heart feels- that aching deep inside whenever that next ‘big’ change happens with your babies - no matter how big they are getting. That slight pang when they seem to grow up too fast. Sometimes the tug on the heart is mixed with excitement, sometimes fear, sometimes joy, sometimes hope, sometimes sadness, sometimes disappointment and often a lot of disbelief. Do they have a tooth already? Can they be having their first birthday already? Can they walk already? Are they going to preschool already? School already? All day at school already? School change already? Feet that are bigger than mine already? Taller than me already? Driving already?Leaving home already?

Dear aching mummy heart, your children will never be alone.

I think this year is a funny sort of year. It’s been a strange one for the books, that’s for sure. The summer is winding down now and there’s a crispness to the evening air that reminds me autumn is coming. Faster than I may feel ready for. And with that comes the end of summer break and the return to school in some way, shape or form. I can guess that for you my friend, maybe it doesn’t look how you expected it to. I know it doesn’t to me. I always have a feeling of sadness at the end of summer break. I enjoy having my kids home, the freedom from schedules and getting up early. No more lunch boxes and PE clothes to organise. A chance to unwind and relax. This summer was different. It didn’t look the way I thought it would or should. And that’s OK, I guess it’s just left me feeling even less ready than usual. It’s been a season with lots of questions and very few answers. A little like fumbling around in the dark looking for the light switch.

Dear aching mummy heart, you do not walk alone.

For some, maybe this new season is bringing excitement as you’re trying something new this year. Maybe you plan to keep your kids home and this choice fills you with anticipation, hope and some level of overwhelm. Maybe, your kids are staying home, but you didn’t have a choice and you’re trying to make the best out of a situation you didn’t want. Maybe you’re launching your babies back into school in some manner or other and they are nervous and you’re not much better. Truth be told, maybe you're a whole lot worse - you're just trying not to show it. Maybe you’re pleased that you’re going to get a bit of breathing room, but the thought of that suddenly empty house brings tears to your eyes. The noise you are so familiar with will no longer be there. Maybe you’re sending your baby to school for the very first time and that just seems overwhelming on every possible front. Maybe you’ve done this a hundred times before, but this time you feel like you’re back at the start all over again. Everything you 'knew' just changed.

Dear aching mummy heart, this journey is not yours alone.

For all of us, I think we stand on the edge of this new journey and we wonder, we hope, we panic. We remember to breathe. We know the road may not look the way we thought it should. We know the path may not be easy. We know we will doubt ourselves and our choices along the way, wondering if we made the right decisions. We know that there may be some sleepless nights along the way. But we will persevere. We may move forward with regret for wasted time together, with a sense of disappointment in ourselves for missed opportunities, missed memory-making. But we move on, knowing we can change and trusting that we will have more chances. Or we may move forward with confidence and joy and feelings of satisfaction of time well-used. Taking with us a backpack of treasures, memories created, traditions continued or started. But we all move forward, no matter what.

Dear aching mummy heart, it’s going to be OK.

Right now, I think one of the things that makes this mummy heart ache a lot, is the sense of the unknown. It’s hard to have confidence in something we do not know. We don’t know what is coming next. But here it is: we never have done and the truth is, we never will. We don’t know what the future holds. Not for ourselves, not for our children, not for anything. But we do know Who holds the future and in Him, we can have confidence. We can rest in the assurance that there is nothing that will pass Him by. He will not miss anything. He knows every detail of every event from here to eternity and nothing will catch Him by surprise. Nothing will catch Him off guard. He sees our hearts wrestle with letting our children go - whether that’s pursuing school at school, or wrestling through what being the teacher ourselves looks like. He knows how much we struggle, He feels as our hearts sink and our stomachs churn. He sees our small victories and shares in them with us too. Rejoicing at the spring in our step when we meet with our little (or big) parenting successes. He walks with us through the good, the bad and the ugly. And let’s not kid ourselves, sometimes mummy life gets really really ugly.

Dear aching mummy heart, your heart is being held....and so is theirs.

I’m reminded that all I need to do is to release them back to Him. For they are His and He is mine. Oh it sounds so easy to say, but it is so very hard to do. Yet, for all the love I have for them- He loves them more. For all the sacrifices I have made and will make for them- He has made more. For every sadness and disappointment I have felt- He has felt more. He has cared more. For every joyful moment- He has rejoiced more. For every memory made- He has been present, more present than my oft-distracted mind ever can be. Why? Because He is more. He is more than I can ever be. He can do more than I can ever do. He can be in places I can never be in. He can reach into parts of their hearts that I can never enter into. He knows the things I cannot, sees the things I cannot, holds the things I cannot. So in the times when my aching mummy heart feels like it is more than I can bear, I will remind myself of these truths and I will choose to rest in the knowledge that my confidence is in Him and all that He is, knowing that He holds my children in the palms of His nail-pierced hands.

Dear aching mummy heart…….be free.

The Swirling Tempest Within My Mind

Tue, 25 Aug 2020 03:05:49 GMT

Calm in the storm

Have you ever been so muddled in thought that you just can’t quite get out what it is that is swirling around in your mind? Well, welcome, dear friend, welcome. I am so blessed by your companionship. Blessed by the times you sit with me and give me space to process things. I wish I could say that our visit today would be coherent, ordered and filled with sense. I’m not sure that’s possible. My mind is just whirling all over the place. Hard to keep track of these flying thoughts. Some fleeting, gone before I can grasp them and some lingering, wanting, demanding my attention to unpack, to ponder and consider.

I find that my mind has been in this place for the last few weeks really. There’s just been such an overload of stimuli. Too many things to try to understand, too many decisions to make, too many tugs on my heart and soul. So many uncompromising convictions demanding action. My brain is worn out and grabbing at all these thoughts that just keep flitting by and my body is weary. It craves rest. It craves quiet. It craves a stillness of the voices and opinions around it.

Have you ever found yourself here? In a season that is just mentally, emotionally and spiritually challenging and exhausting? A season that makes you ask questions of the beliefs you hold. A season that demands introspection and reflection. A season that benefits from self-awareness and evaluation. A time when listening is of utmost importance and wisdom is often found in silence. A time of desperately wanting and needing to hear the voice of God. To be filled with His discernment. To be stretched and pulled and brought to the end of yourself. To a place where you have no answers. To a place where you have no rest.

But this I know: He is there. In the midst of the swirling tempest within our minds, He is there. When we feel stretched so thin, brought to the end of every skill set we have. He is there. Sometimes when our minds know no rest and our souls are a blur of feelings and convictions, it can be really hard to see Him, to hear His voice. But it can be found. The challenge, I find, comes in the how.

It’s not that long ago that I was talking to my prayer group about some of these swirling tempests and expressing how I hear so many views, opinions, ‘answers,’ directions. But my heart was longing to hear just one opinion. All the others didn’t matter much, because all I wanted was the direction of the One who knows me inside and out, who sees the bigger pictures and knows the better way. I was desperate to drown out all the distractions and noise and voices. But, who am I kidding, there’s little peace and quiet to be had here. At any given moment there’s someone calling my name, crawling on me, tugging on my arm, texting me questions (teenager in the house anyone?!) And oh, how I love these treasures entrusted to me. But quiet. Nope. Not really. Not unless you count that moment of silence as I lay on my bed and think I’ll just read a page before I sleep, only to awaken moments later to the thud of a book falling from my hands and landing on my face. On this occasion, I knew that I really only had one chance for quiet. Real solitude. It would be a drive: the drive to an appointment, with my hopefully-sleeping infant, in the back of the car. So I asked my group to pray. To cover me in prayer, that I would commune with God during this time and the voices would be silenced.

I love prayer. I love how God brings others in on something for the benefit of each of us and to His glory. I love that God doesn’t require a church sanctuary or the earliest morning start before everyone else is up. He doesn’t need a wide open field or the sea shore (though those speak pure refreshment to my soul.) My dear beloved Lord, was more than happy to hop in the passenger seat and come along for my ride. He is so willing to take our smallest of offerings and lovingly accept them. I am so grateful. He doesn’t have to. He chooses to. My mind stopped swirling and the racing thoughts were replaced with calm and clarity of sight. The answers I sought didn’t come immediately - though in this instance, they did come that day. But, in those sacred moments, God and I enjoyed some time together. I marvel that He enjoys it too. That He isn’t put off by my scattered thoughts and jumping conversations. That He can so easily keep up with my flitting thoughts and that He can grab each one of them and pull them down to rest. Solace. Invariably finding these times of solitude is a challenge and sometimes my determination to find them is sorely lacking. I wish it wasn’t, because when I make the effort the beauty of the time spent together is unrivalled. But sometimes it requires creativity, maybe even a doubling up of goals. Prayer walking whilst pushing the buggy. Folding the washing and praying over the wearer of the clothes. Driving. Vacuuming, Cooking, weeding the garden. They may not be the most glamorous of locations. They may not always be completely silent. But I think with a little evaluation, we can probably all find some time for solitude with God. Some chances for the tempests of our minds to be brought under control. Snatching time where we can, but also intentionally carving out space for communion with Him. After all, without these things, there seems to me to be little chance of taming the tempest and bringing calm to the storm.

And then it happened

Mon, 10 Aug 2020 11:48:45 GMT

The confession of a heart-weary mum

Oh friend, I'm glad you came. You probably haven't caught me at my best, right now. I'm sorry. But do come on in. You'll have to step over the mess. Ugh, can I just confess something to you? I've had a really bad day. I'm tired and that really started it. We made it through the morning ok, but after that I just hit a slump….

And then it happened. Then the temper shortened. The snapping. The grumbling. The desire to retreat into myself. The arrival of the nagging, griping, complaining, ungrateful ‘dragon lady.’ The snowball continued to grow as the hours ticked on. As the boredom with routine ramped up, as the hunger for space to myself increased, as the frustration at being needed ALL THE TIME grew…. Then the tirade began.

In one single moment I feel both ashamed and relieved that I blew. No one was around…. This time…. Despite my grumblings, the other members of my household were occupied elsewhere in the house, while I stomped around laying my grievances out to God, interspersed with ranting about all the things I didn't like about my life and universe and not always with the most respectful of language I add. Not because I want to flaunt this point…. Actually I'm quite convicted about it…. Now. But in that moment with anger rising, I definitely wasn't angry without sinning.

I could see full well what was happening as my focus had shifted down onto myself. I could just imagine the enemy of all that is good, rejoicing at the failings of this holy-in-training, unglued mess of a woman. That just made me more irritated. More angry at realising I was giving the enemy everything he wanted. At the same time I continued pouring my woes out to God. It was a bit of a hamster wheel. A combination of my mind, my heart and my mouth, talking to God, weaving between complaints, frustrations and hurts. Spinning with thought after thought and irritation after irritation. Hurt after hurt. Complaining about sprawls of toys and rather energetically flinging them back into the box, declaring, rather boldly, to the enemy that I wasn’t going to let him win…... Oh dear hubby's shoes were in the way - cue another monologue of complaints, and back to 'so God….' and this is how it continued for a good 15 minutes.

My heart told me to find gratitude. My head chose to ignore it. My mummy heart was hurting and someone needed to know about it. I felt I'd dissolved into invisibility and I was lashing out, desperate for acknowledgement. I cried angry tears and hurt tears and tears of disappointment at myself for my toddler sized temper tantrum. And then something surprising happened.

As quickly as the storm had blown in, it started to blow out again. Instead of condemnation I felt conviction. But it was a conviction that came as the arms of my Saviour wrapped around me and told me He sees. He knows. It wasn’t a lecture or a wagging finger. It was love. Parent to child. It's the kind of love that produces conviction and brings genuine repentance. Not necessarily a need to repent for having the feelings, but for having misused them. Yes, the hurt is still there, but He comes and puts His hand on my chin and looks into my eyes and tells me to focus on him. Tells me to place my expectations in Him. It's like a balm for my soul. Reminds me that those around me, can never fully meet my needs. It's not their job. That going to Him and letting Him work in the hearts of those I love will always be more effective than an eruption of unkindness from me.

We take a deep breath. I don't think He really needed it, but I certainly did. 'Come on' He says, we can do this together. 'I know all the things you are feeling and it's ok. I know the hurting is still there and the myriad of reasons still exist. But won't you let me do this with you? Let me give you grace. Let me give you calm. Let me work on resolving some of this. Let me give you the right words, at the right time. Let me shift your expectations. Let me point out the good things. Won't you let me love you? Acknowledge you? Give you value? Because to me…. You were worth everything.'

My Failings

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 03:33:49 GMT

The sum of who I am?

Hi there. It's great to see you. Care to join me on the porch? It's sunny and warm today: fuel for the soul. A good place to do some thinking.

Do you ever find that the mistakes you make, feel like the poster board for your life? I know I do. Last night, as my kids were falling asleep in bed, I sat in the space between their rooms, flicking through my phone. Catching up on news articles, emails, messages, social media. All of a sudden I became aware of just how disengaged I’d been through the whole bedtime routine. How I’d read and reread the same things, mindlessly hoping for something new to appear. I became aware of what I must look like to my children, as they try to get my attention or lay there watching me from their beds. I chastised myself for the fact that they weren’t seeing me pouring over Scripture or even reading a book. They weren’t seeing me writing a letter or a journal or engaged in any number of creative outlets that I could have found to fill my time. They didn’t see me with my head bowed in quiet prayer. No, they saw me staring at a screen and ‘reading the news’....let’s be honest, mostly reading people’s posts on Facebook. Beyond that, they’ve heard me time and again ‘justifying’ my use of my phone. ‘If I don’t read this I won’t know what’s going on in the world, if I don’t text back then that person won’t get their answer (meanwhile I’m ignoring or halfheartedly answering my kids questions and needs.) I’d be lying if I said this problem only started a couple of months ago, but it didn’t. It’s been an ongoing battle in my life for quite some time. Escapism, if I’m honest. But it’s definitely become much much worse in recent weeks.

I’d been living with an undercurrent of guilt about it, but that turned into a wave. As is so often the case, feeling a sense of guilt about one thing opens up the box of all my failings. It’s a box that I keep under lock and key in a dark corner of my mind. Truth be told, I’ve emptied that box out a few times over the years, but it does tend to fill up again. Sometimes, I even find things in there that I thought I’d thrown away. Little remnants of guilt and failings, like tattered fabric pieces in a sewing box. The scraps. Nevertheless enough of a memory jogger to send me down memory lane, reminding me of where I have gone wrong before. I can see them laying there and as I ponder this new sense of failing, I realise I must do something with it. I can add it to the box to save for later or I can deal with it now. I can let it add to the undercurrent or I can choose to wash them away.

Sometimes, I think our failings serve a purpose and our remorse is justified - when it leads to conviction and repentance. When we become aware of something we shouldn’t have done and we use it to propel us into a better path. We may not be able to undo our choices, but we can find freedom to live through the consequences without hauling a boat load of guilt with us. Sometimes, it’s hard to acknowledge our failings in the first place. It's much easier to push them aside and try to get on with life. After all, they so often lead to guilt and shame- and who wants to feel those? The angry moments, the unkind words, the spiteful actions, the times when I couldn’t be bothered to give my best, the occasions when I ignored my kids, when I disrepect my husband, when I didn’t reply to that friend who really needed to talk. Those times when I didn’t engage in the present but looked to escape, to dwell in an imaginary future. When I intentionally decided to watch TV instead of pray. When I chose to read the social media feed for an hour instead of my Bible. Oh the list could go on. Some tiny and some monstrously large. Nevertheless things with which I've missed the mark.

The trouble is when these things stack on top of each other - when my little box is stuffed to overflowing with scraps and new pieces are added daily, I start to feel like they are the sum of who I am. I fully believe that is not a place that we are meant to be. I do believe the Lord convicts us when necessary, I have experienced that for myself. However, I know we’re not meant to find our value, worth or identity wrapped up in those failings. Guilt may make me feel like I am the sum of all my failings, other people may even lead me to believe this too, but TRUTH tells me I am not.

When the waves wash over me, truth declares I am forgiven. When the box of scraps is full and overflowing, truth says bring it to me. When memories of the past flood my very being, truth says you are free. Be reminded, dear friend, that we are not the sum of our past mistakes nor can we ever be. We are who He says we are. We are not perfect, but we are loved. Loved enough that the King of the universe decided that our lives were worth the death of His son. Our lives held value enough that God would leave perfection and come to join us in this broken place we call home. Our future was of such importance that God didn’t leave us to fumble through this life without direction, He came, He taught and He teaches. Our thoughts, our prayers and concerns are so treasured that He listens and answers. That He bridged the divide that separated us from Him. He told us we could come and dwell with the Holy of Holies. The curtain was torn in two.

So in the times when I am tempted to believe that all I am is the sum of all my failings. I will look up and see the lies, the opinions, the guilt for what they are. I will try to make better choices. But above all else, I will remember the blood that poured out so that the sum of who I am is found in Him.

Impatient in the Process

Sun, 26 Jul 2020 18:02:52 GMT

The heart of the journey

Well hello there! How are you? Would you like to come in? I can pour us some lemonade and I’m sure I’ve got some cake stashed around here somewhere. That is, if my kids haven’t eaten it all. Ooh I could just eat a scrumptious piece of chocolate cake. What’s your favourite? Carrot? Lemon? Coffee? Ginger? It’s almost hard to wait long enough to get the cake onto the plate before taking a giant bite!

Have you ever just felt so impatient? When I look around me, I see so many processes that require patience, so many things where I’d like to have reached the finish line. Can I see some results already? Do I have to keep waiting? Why is it taking so long? It’s everything really. Impatience in the process of shifting that baby weight, getting started can be just the worst. I’m not sure how much the cake is helping! Impatience in that job interview process. In waiting for test results. In waiting for other people - to do just about anything really, you know what I mean? That car in front of you, it’s just moving a little too slowly. Impatient to get there. Wherever ‘there’ is. That queue in the shop. I’m sorry to all the people who have stood behind me in the check-out line of a supermarket, patience of saints is required while I unload my shopping! What about impatience trying to save up for that special trip? Impatiently waiting for a reply from a business, a university, a loved one. Impatience in cleaning my house. I just want it to be finished, preferably before I’ve started. I don’t want to have to go through the process. I don’t want to start the project and think it’s going to be short only to find out it’s going to take way longer than I anticipated, like when I decide to deep clean something. Why did I ever start? So I definitely experience impatience in the process of home renovations! Never do I long for a magic wand more than when I’m faced with some DIY project that will involve long hours, sweat, inconveniences, hiccups and unforeseen issues. Oh for it to just fix itself.

Well and then there’s life. Apparently it’s like a box of chocolates - at least according to Forrest Gump*. I’m inclined to think it’s a lot like that never-ending renovation. The process of changing things, of peeling back layers to uncover something unpleasant underneath. Examining, pondering the next best move to make. Like a dance. Though less elegant! Step forward, step to the left, do a little turn, slide back, step forward again. What do we do with this new thing before us? Is there a treasure to be found or is what I find destined for the rubbish heap? The discard pile? Can we restore it or must we replace it with something, new, something different, something better? More choices, more decisions. More process. Oh how I can become so discontent in the process of doing anything really, especially when the finish line seems a long way off or out of view or when the goal posts seem to move. Despondency, frustration and immense impatience. Lord, I’ve had quite enough of learning lessons now. Can we call this done? Do I really have to go through a lifelong refinement process? Do you have some short-cuts around here? You know, ones where I can learn the life lessons without the process? Do we really have to look into that crevice, wouldn’t a bit of plaster on top of it be ok, you know, just smooth out the surface and I’d be just fine?

In my heart, I know the answers to the questions. Truth be told, there is much to be learned in the process of living, as there is much to be learned in any process, doing anything. We learn our limitations, the limitations of others, pitfalls, better ways of doing things and handling situations that arise. We learn to give and receive grace. This, I find, is not easily learned nor quickly. We learn to encourage and to be encouraged. To hope and to offer hope. We can acknowledge our strengths and weaknesses. Something, perhaps more easily done with age and experience. Our need for a Saviour, a rescuer, a guiding light, becomes more and more apparent. We take off our lenses of self-righteousness, of judgement, of guilt, of anger, of fear, of greed, of envy and entitlement. Instead clothing ourselves in the robes of long-suffering and perseverance. In ribbons of gentleness and self-control. In jewels of kindness, humility and forgiveness - for ourselves and toward others.

Oh but that impatience! It still comes. Sometimes storming in with indignation, sometimes skulking in round a corner with mutterings under its breath. Even when we know where we’re heading, when we know the destination of our journey, the goal of our project, the purpose, it doesn't always take away the waves of impatience that come. Maybe, that’s in part because we recognise our own imperfect humanity. As we realise that we are only capable of getting so far by ourselves, of doing superficial patch jobs to smooth the surface. We despair at ourselves and our circumstances. We want to ‘get the job done’ on our timeline, in our way. But, maybe in the process we realise our absolute reliance on Someone so far above and beyond our capabilities. We ultimately have the opportunity to acknowledge these things about ourselves and to be prepared to let go of control. It’s hard.

I find myself wondering what to do, when impatience with the process starts to settle in.I suppose that acknowledging it, is a starting place. Acknowledging it to myself and then taking time to talk it through with trusted friends. People who I know will speak truth and will encourage. But beyond that, I’m pretty sure that talking it through with God is a good place to go to. It’s not that He doesn’t already know, He does. It’s just that communication is at the heart of any relationship and our relationship with God is no different. In talking it through with Him, maybe we’ll be given a new perspective, maybe we’ll be given strength to endure, energy for the next leg of the journey, peace in the waiting and patience in the process.

*Forrest Gump 1994 Paramount Pictures

A heart full of grief

Sun, 19 Jul 2020 18:54:39 GMT

Hope in the heartbreak

Sometimes there just don’t seem to be words. Sometimes the heaviness of the heart weighs me down like a millstone around the neck. Sometimes the aching is just so great. Sometimes there is one single thing that my heart is mourning and sometimes it is just in mourning for all that has been lost. The long long list that maybe doesn’t quite end, filled with big things and the not-so-big. Sometimes there is grief that is deeply personal and sometimes it is not. There is danger in the prayer ‘break my heart Lord for what breaks yours.’ Sometimes I fear that if I let my heart feel the depth of sadness that swirls around, it will break into a million pieces, never to put back together again and that the enormity of the feelings will drown me. That the tears, once unleashed, would never stop flowing. Sometimes this grief is there in the midst of suffering and sometimes it flows in when the storm has calmed. Sometimes I think that the grief must end when suddenly another of life’s storms rolls in and the inevitable begins again. Did the last ever really end?

I confess to being in a season of grief right now. Somehow, there is a strange sense of freedom and comfort in simply acknowledging that. In recognizing its presence in my life and in allowing my soul to lament. It doesn’t take away the pain, but it does release me from pretending it’s not there. Sometimes it is at the forefront of my mind and sometimes it slips quietly into the background of life. Yet, it remains. This, I think, is as it should be. I think as these times of grief roll in and out of my life, in their ebb and flow, I am gradually realizing the necessity of letting them be present. My instinctive response is to shut them away. To hide them from myself and from the world around me. And yet, I cannot. They are part of who I am. They are part of why I think the way I do and feel what I feel. The raw wounded grief that gives me my battle cry, those same wounds which fade in time and form scars across my life. No longer searing pain-filled grief, but the occasionally aching kind. The grief that doesn’t leave me, but changes over time: changes me over time.

Grief is not something I ever think we'd really choose. It is a hard road. It can be confusing and unsettling. But this is life and grief is a part of it. It is unavoidable, inescapable, indiscriminate. It does not care whether you dwell with the rich and mighty or with the poorest of the poor. It cares not for the colour of your skin, nor your age or education. Man or woman it doesn't matter. It unites us as people and yet it causes so much hurt, so much anger, so much hatred, so much division.

So, if something so inescapable exists, then how do we grieve well? How do we lament? I think, in many Western cultures, it has become a lost art. The art of grieving well. Of acknowledging that which has been lost and giving our souls permission to feel pain as a result of it. No, we don't like feelings, but without them we cannot heal. Without allowing those feelings space the wounds cannot become scars. Scars may not be pretty, but they tell a story. Stories that encourage others, that strengthen others. God can do something with those scars…. If we'll let him. They become a beautiful part of who we are. They become a story of who He is. And when we can see this, we can find hope.

In the midst of the pain, the hurting, the anger and frustration, the aching, the tears, we can find hope that all is not lost. Because that same God, who showed up and brought healing through the grief the last time will show up again. The same God who was present in the grief of characters of old, will still be present in my grief and your grief. He doesn't barge in uninvited, but He comes when we call. He grieves with us, He leads us through the shadows and back to the light. He mourns with us. He comforts us. He strengthens us when we feel we can't go on. He will never leave or forsake us and that means we never grieve alone. He reminds us that He sees us, that when the world around us moves on, returns to 'normal,' we are not lost, we are not left alone in our pain, we are not forgotten. In giving grief room to exist, we can see beauty grow from the ashes, a building of something new in the destruction. With God nothing goes to waste. All those myriad of feelings that pour out from the umbrella of grief….. Not one of them will return empty, not one fruitless or hopeless, not one that cannot find solace and healing when we welcome Him in to sit with us, when we let God in.

The Answer Of Silence

Fri, 10 Jul 2020 20:03:07 GMT

When God remains silent

Welcome! May I give you a hug? Shall we sit and talk awhile? Oh friend, let me hold your hand, let me look into your eyes and promise you, that in all things, we are never alone. Even when we feel that our voice cries out and all that comes back is the echo of our own breath. We are never alone.

A few years ago, our family went through an unexpected challenge. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet and I was left spinning. Trying to find which way was up. The trajectory that we were on was suddenly changed. No warning. Just being propelled onto another course. There was so much hurt and heartache. So much disappointment, so much confusion and anger. So much unknown. I remember crying before the Lord and asking Him to provide, to fix, to restore. I remember pleading with Him to answer me. To let me know He was there. He gave me two words, “Trust me.” I had no idea that for the next 5 months, that would be it. That there would be no more answers, no matter how much I came to Him. God remained silent. I knew I wasn’t the first to wander this path, but oh how alone I felt. I struggled thinking maybe I was just missing it. Maybe I was looking in the wrong places. Maybe I wasn’t listening. God where are you? My heart wanted Him and yet it seemed that He could not be found. I felt so alone. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” “ My God, why have you turned your face from me?” Why did you go? Where did you go? Why are you ignoring me? What did I do wrong? Do you still care? You love me, right?

Times of silence. Questions, doubts, hurt, fear.

“Trust me.”

How long Oh God? How long do I wait? How long do I have to trust? What am I trusting you to do? Why don’t you speak?

Yet the answers to the questions didn’t come. Not for a time anyway. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. It allows us to see the bigger picture that we couldn’t appreciate at the time. A chance to see things at work that we couldn’t notice because our focus was so tuned in to our immediate, to our bubble. I’m not saying that always happens because sometimes we do look back and the purpose and big picture still evade us, but I am grateful for the times when God does let us see, maybe even understand something of His plans and His presence - continued presence.

But navigating through the storms of silence - that is hard. I am not God, so I cannot give you the reasons for these times of stillness, the whys and wherefores of God’s decision making is above my pay grade. But I can tell you what I learned. I learned that I was tested. My faith was put to the test. Would the theoretical translate to the practical? Would I persevere? (James 1:2-4.) Did the words that I professed have meaning and substance or were they empty and devoid of truth? What I knew about God’s character was put to the test. Did I hunger enough for God that I would keep pursuing Him? Would my faith weather a time when I received an instruction and that was it? Could my head hold my heart steadfast in the knowledge it had about God’s goodness, about His faithfulness, all while my heart was hurting? When my heart wanted to be heard? And when my heart wanted answers? Would I stay the course and live in obedience to the instruction or would I try to take matters back into my own hands and resolve things ‘my way?’ I was sorely tempted a few times.

I also learned that the events going on in my life are not always just about me. Yes, I am learning and God is teaching. God can teach us through all circumstances no matter how bitter or how sweet they may be. Are we prepared to learn? Are we prepared to venture into the unknown and trust that He knows where we’re going and how we’re going to get there? Even when the pilot stops talking? Sometimes God’s simple instructions, God’s timings, God’s need for us to wait, to have patience, to trust Him are also because He is working something else out in someone else. Maybe He just doesn’t need us to know all the details. Can we have grace enough for that? Little did I know, that a year later, this lesson would continue again. Not backtrack and repeat but continue along the path it had started on.

I learned to hang on tight when the end isn’t in sight. Oh, it is so so hard. That wondering when you’ll hear His voice again...if you’ll hear it again. But I know He doesn’t leave us in silence forever. Let’s be honest, He never left in the first place, He was just quiet. He still heard me, He still listened, He still cared, He still watched and He waited. He waited until the time was right for His next move. I can’t tell you what that will look like for you or when that will be. But I can tell you that it will come. I can also tell you that the blessings He pours out upon us are abundant. (James 1:12) He sees our efforts to hold to the faith, to trust and to wait. Even when that might look a bit messy. It’s a bit like the paintings my preschooler gives to me. These endevours of craftsmanship, patience and love - presented to me as a gift, in all their drippy, sloppy, colourful glory. And like the loving Father that He is, God takes these messy offerings of ours and accepts them with love, hands wide open and says ‘well done my good and faithful servant.’ (Matt 24:13, 25:23) Maybe, just maybe, we can run the race marked out for us (Heb 12:1-2,) remembering what we’ve learned, so that the next time we are called to step out in faith we find it just a little bit easier and we can accept a little more readily, the next time God chooses to answer through silence.

Waiting on the Lord

Fri, 03 Jul 2020 18:16:44 GMT

Letting go and letting God...

Hello my friend. I’m glad for your presence here with me right now. I am writing this from the trenches, metaphorically speaking that is. So I’m not even going to pretend to have answers or to know how this is going to turn out. In many senses, writing this may be better done from hindsight. But then, “the trenches” are the reality of right now, this present moment. I don’t know what your life has been like over recent years, but our life has been a tumultuous boat ride on an ever choppy sea. I have found myself waiting for the storm to disperse and the sun to come out. To sail along quietly and come into harbour for refreshment. It hasn’t happened. Though there have been bursts of sunlight and blessings along the voyage. I have wrestled with what if the storm clouds never actually go away? What if one blows in right after another and how do I find peace in the middle of that?

Through this journey, I have become more convinced that the peace I crave is a man named Peace, a man named Jesus. A man, who will walk on water and get in my boat with me. Who may not quiet my storm right away, but will bring a steadfastness to my soul during the storm and who does have the power to silence the winds and waves, if He chooses. I have wrestled with letting Him allow the storms to continue and learning that He does bring beauty from ashes. I have struggled with the idea that the sun may come out briefly between downpours, but the next downpour remains on the horizon. I have battled with myself over the fact that my biggest God encounter moments, the light-bulbs, the deepest connection and communion have been in the thickest, foggiest, most turbulent parts of the voyage. Because, who am I kidding? This realisation doesn’t exactly thrill me. If, for one moment, reading this, you think I’ve made it to some end point and have come to a point of acceptance, peace and unwavering faith as a result of this journey, you’d be wrong. I may have started learning these lessons, but I’m equally convinced that they are lifelong lessons. Ones that are not learned over night. Ones that my flesh will continue to buck against.

I think that the difference between then and now, is that perhaps, I buck a little less, perhaps I reach a point of acceptance a little sooner. Perhaps I am a little more willing to trust in the One who sees what I cannot and in whose love I remain confident. And because He is glorious and loving, He has proven Himself to me when He surely doesn’t have to, but time and again He shows me that He can be trusted and that His love is vast. I still feel all the feelings. I still face the fear or try to bury my head in the sand. My anxious heart still jumps to the ‘what ifs,’ I still bubble with anger and frustration when there doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of a tunnel - one which I feel I’ve been in for an eternity no less. Fortunately, God, in His graciousness, meets us there. He doesn’t ask perfection from us, He asks us to come to Him. And to be honest, I’m not always good at that. I still try to ‘fix’ things first. Eventually I usually realise the follies of my way and then go before Him. I wish I could say it was always with humility and repentance, but it’s not, sometimes it’s more with resignation and defeat. Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.

We don’t always realise it, but over time, He has been refining us. The feelings are more easily settled. The angst recedes faster. The fear put back in its place a bit quicker. The anger abates and acceptance prevails. I think that with an awareness that God can work in this way, sometimes it makes the struggles more palatable. Still unpleasant - I have not yet reached that place where I can embrace the challenges with joy, knowing they’ll bring me closer to God - but somehow a bit more tolerable. It’s great news that God doesn’t leave us in the same mucky place for our entire lives. He molds us. Like the great potter that He is. But He takes His time, knowing, in His wisdom, that the beauty of our lives is best restored gradually, it’s less painful that way, we resist less and we learn more.

Sometimes it feels like I have to preach this to my own heart. To remind it of what it knows to be true and to hold onto that. To be patient with the process and to be prepared to wait on the Lord. To wait on the Lord and to let go and let God in the process. In the last few months I think God has been speaking these things to my heart. It started a few months ago with the birth of our daughter. A time that was the joyous arrival of our little girl, but also filled with unexpected challenges. In the midst of post-delivery complications, (after my husband had gone home no less,) all my other kids back at home went down with the flu. There was nothing much I could do. Here I was, in hospital with my baby, recovering from an ordeal I’d have rather not had and at home, my husband was holding down the fort as 4 kids dropped like flies one after the other. I watched from afar, alone in my hospital room - no visitors when they are all sick - as he looked after them and cleaned and sanitized. I watched as he stepped up, in a way I couldn’t have imagined he would. As family members came to aid and again all I could do was watch. The control-mad woman that I am, was forced into an uncomfortable situation of having to let go and to let God. That’s all I could do. I could let God step in the gap.

There’s a funny thing that happens when we actually give God space to show up. I’ve found, through experience, that He does. He comes. He often uses His people to do His work. What a privilege in allowing us to be part of that blessing upon someone else. To be allowed to be part of an answered prayer for someone. Let go and let God. Oh it can be so hard. But so so beautiful. So wonderful to see that in the midst of the trial He is there working. As I returned home with our newborn and entered a period of quarantine with the baby, I continued to have to let go. I couldn’t do what my instincts told me to do in order to care for my other children. I had to let my husband carry the burden on this and to let God. To let Him show up in the ways He knew we needed. In the way He knew my husband needed. What really were quite awful and stressful circumstances turned into a beautiful arrival of God. His people came and served. He equipped and strengthened. And I sat and watched. I watched what happens when I back off and surrender control. I found a God who came and cleaned the floors and held my children and watched over them. A God who brought me rest and peace. Inexplicable rest and peace in the midst of a storm.

As I think back to this experience, which in my memory has a cloud of peace just hovering over it, I have been comforted and bolstered through other storms that have blown in since then. Other storms that God has shown up in, answering specific prayers, often prayed by others on my behalf. So, in this most recent storm that has transcended our lives and the lives of many others, I let go and let God. Not always easily, as in my humanity I still struggle, still fear and still doubt, but I try. A little while back, just after my husband lost his job, I felt the Lord prompt me with a verse that talked about waiting on Him. So, as hard as it is I am now waiting on the Lord. I’m not even sure what I’m waiting for. So still I wait. I am waiting on the Lord to move. To act. To provide. I don’t know what those things will look like, but I know He will not leave us or forsake us. I know the journey may not be quick or easy, though I still hope it is. I am reminded to focus on the here and now. To let go and let God deal with the future. The waiting isn’t easy. The letting go isn’t easy. It goes so much against my desire for plans and control. But this isn’t God’s way. These are not meant to be burdens that I carry. A life that I have planned to the T, is not a life in submission to God’s will or direction. And I’d rather be where He wants me to be, doing what He asks me to do, (never demands, I hasten to add,) because there I find peace, there I find security, there I grow and commune with the Lord, even in the midst of the greatest of unknowns.

Surviving to Thriving

Tue, 23 Jun 2020 19:54:33 GMT

Live in faith

You’re here! I’m so excited to have company. I’d just love to have a chat over coffee with you!

Surviving to thriving: this is a topic that has been going round in my mind for a while now. I think it’s probably something I’ll keep coming back to. Something where the answers change, that maybe what the answer looks like today is not going to be the same as it does next week, next month, next year or ten years from now. Yes, I think there’ll probably be a thread that does run across the expanse of time, like a theme in a piece of music, but perhaps the melodies and harmonies will change around it. I’m not sure I know what that theme is yet. But I do want to find it.

As I was talking to a friend, not that long ago, about how we were both doing, the phrase that came out of my mouth was, “I’m surviving but I’m not thriving.” That’s it. It summed up my here and now. This holding pattern that I’ve entered into, but haven’t figured out how to land and start living again. The trouble is, I think I was already just surviving, long before this latest global disaster occurred. It’s just that this world-sweeping problem, became like a magnifying glass to the problem. Every time a challenge came along - and we really had faced some pretty huge life changes and stresses - I went back into survival mode. Back to this waiting. This holding pattern. Back to just trying to make it through the day, on some degree of autopilot. Waiting for something to change, for the limbo to dissipate so that I could ‘get on with life.’

It’s easy to get up on a spiritual high horse, to churn out some text book answers on how we should all be handling this current trial or any of life’s challenges for that matter. But text book answers so often don’t connect with the heart. The list of ‘shoulds’ that will ‘solve’ our limbo status, just don’t seem to cut it. They seem to be designed for the pseudo-perfect person. The one who doesn’t exist. The solutions just don’t seem to fit for the average, struggling person. The holiest of answers to the problem of how to enter a life where I’m thriving, seems like scaling Mount Everest. Overwhelming. Impossible for Josephine Average. I’m reminded that when Jesus sat teaching large groups of people, he wasn’t doing it trying to set impossible standards that we can’t attain and consequently feel like we’ve failed when we can’t live it out. He wasn’t aloof. He wasn’t sitting on a throne away from everyone, giving instruction. No, he was there, being accessible. Being reach-able. Surrounded by people from all walks of life. Available to everyone. Caring about everyone. And willing to pick up the slack, willing to take the consequences of both our intentional and unintentional inability to live a holy life.

‘Live. In faith.’ Words spoken by my father. And suddenly it’s like a light-bulb goes off. Live in faith. I believe this is at least part of the key to move from surviving to something more. Something more than watching life just pass us all by. Something attainable. Something that comes in bite-sized pieces. The golden crispy nuggets that make a meal simple and easier to pick up, to digest. Massive steaks are delicious, but require some serious utensils to cut into and some real chewing to make it swallow-able. Living in faith, doesn't necessarily have to be easy but it doesn't have to be an overly complicated concept either. Sometimes we find ourselves expecting a complex solution when we don’t need one. Living in faith day by day. Just as Scripture teaches - focus on today because tomorrow has its own problems. God clothes the flowers of the field, so He’ll care for you, of that you can be sure. He sees your needs (Matt 6:25-34.) Living in faith is asking God for the strength to get through this day. Just this one. Not tomorrow or next week. And it’s trusting that the future is in His hands and in that we can have hope. Not because trust is easy, not because we don’t feel afraid or sad but because He sees what we cannot (Jer. 29:11.) Because He is good (Luke 18:19, Ps.34:8.) Because He remains faithful (2 Thess. 3:3.) Because He never sleeps (Ps. 121:1.) Because He isn’t taken by surprise. Living in faith is trusting in what we know to be true about God. It is not trusting in our circumstances or in our abilities. It is not even relying on our feelings, because those can fail us too. Living in faith becomes an all-encompassing way of being.

But I think there’s more to this statement - live. Live. Live. Live. Live because you have permission to live now. To live now with faith in the One who holds the future in his hands. Not just a general instruction to live life in faith and to walk in faith not by sight. Not just the lifelong instruction so to speak. But one that is completely and utterly relevant for right here and right now. Living now. Engaging now.

Now, if you’re anything like me then you start to wrestle with what living in faith looks like on a day by day basis, especially on the days when I don’t even feel like getting out of bed. On the days or weeks or even months, when I’m just not ‘feeling it.’ This is where I think the bite-sized chicken nugget pieces come into it. To move from surviving to thriving, to cultivate a life in which we do more than merely existing.

So maybe that living in faith is getting up and intentionally taking a few minutes to engage with those around us, maybe it’s setting a timer on social media use and news reports and intentionally re-engaging with what is happening right now in our home. And as we intentionally engage with our present surroundings we can choose to open our eyes to the blessings we have. To find gratitude. Maybe it is simply saying that once per day, I’m going to look for something to be grateful for and I’m going to share that with someone. Maybe it’s committing to pray for someone while I fold the laundry instead of putting on a TV show. What about just thinking of one small thing that my kids have asked me to do with them and actually doing it. Of saying ok, those dishes can wait 10 minutes while I jump on the trampoline. Maybe it’s calling everyone together and making up stories while we all clear up from dinner. Maybe we release our cares to the Lord in simple sentences throughout the day, as they present themselves.

Maybe it’s just doing one thing that needs to be done in a day and calling that success. Maybe it’s finding our passion or things we enjoy and allowing ourselves time for those things. A shifting of focus. Maybe, this is living. Small memories. Small kindnesses. Small acts of gratitude. Small accomplishments. Reaching out and connecting with others in small ways, so that they feel remembered. Perhaps, even as the world ceases to function in the way we have always known it to, as countless challenges throw themselves at us every day, perhaps we can grab at the bite-sized pieces. The pebbles, if you will. And before we know it, by the end of the day, even though our hearts may remain heavy with the bigger cares of the world, we can look in our hand and see the pebbles that we have picked up (a slightly better analogy perhaps, than a handful of nuggets?!) We can see that we have lived today. We have lived in faith today. We have communed with Him in the small things, we have communed with Him in the living, in the mundane and routine and we have found beauty there. We have chosen to keep our eyes on the present and to trust God with our future - knowing that He has wisdom to impart and will guide us, when we abide in Him.

Then tomorrow, we will see our pebbles from today and be encouraged and we will add more to the collection. I think, I hope, I choose to believe that these actions will become easier the more we practice them. Then gradually we will see that collection of pebbles grow, some days with more pebbles than others and in time, perhaps we will realise that we began to live, to thrive and that even in the midst of the most challenging of times when the holding pattern of survival starts, that we can choose to come in to land and to start living again.

Finding the Divine in the Mundane

Thu, 18 Jun 2020 13:38:06 GMT

Quieting the Chaos and Embracing the Mess

Hello there! It's just lovely to see you. You know what, the sun's come out and there's a glorious warmth, let's take a seat in the garden. Let's snatch a few minutes of fresh air, a quick breather between the tasks of the day, a mental break from the humdrum. Ah rest. I don't think I realised how tired my body was until I let it stop for a moment. Until stillness just started to flood my being from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I can feel my eyes start to shut as the sun shines on my face. My shoulders relax and my legs stretch out as I wiggle my toes and my body silently sighs, 'rest.' This is my momentary thinking space. A place to let my mind wander, to process, to stop trying.

Family life. It's simultaneously life-giving, enriching, energizing and completely and utterly draining, exhausting, stretching. It's both ever-changing and desperately routine. It's a happy place, a security and it's a place of worry and work. It's a place where I can be myself, with all my flaws and a place where I desperately want to be the best version of me that can be.

It's funny though, how the mundane, the chaos and the mess are often the things that I find myself focusing on. I am a self-confessed neat freak, my home, however, is anything but neat. Cue small posse running and screaming, with a dog in hot pursuit. I struggle to find joy in the smudges and tossed aside clothing. In the sprawl of toys and piles of dishes. The mess of family life, both literal and emotional is a never ending distraction. I can relate far more to the Martha of the Bible, than to the Mary at Jesus' feet (Luke 10:38-42.) I find the chaos of small humans running around draws my attention to the things going on around me…. And not in a particularly good way. It doesn't often conjure gratitude. I'm sure it should, but it doesn't. It does however, keep my mind ever spinning, and my body moving.

It's the perfect ploy really, when I think about it. The perfect way to bring disillusionment and discontent. To keep a mother's mind focused on the humdrum, on the challenges, on the frantic, on the exhaustion, on the self-sacrifice and to allow a certain sense of wallowing in self-pity, frustration and angst to grow, to settle within her soul. Oh my heart, there has to be a better way. There just has to. God didn't design motherhood to be all give and no refill. I know my God and He is just so much better than that. Do you feel this too? Well my friend, here I am convinced that there is goodness to be found in the routine, there is the divine to be found in the mundane, there can be quiet even with chaos all around and there can be a letting go, dare I venture to say, even an embracing of the mess and there…. There I can find joy, peace, hope and rest. There I can find relationship. There I find unending support and strength.

When Martha complained to Jesus about her need for help and Jesus pointed to her that Mary's choice to sit at his feet and commune with him was the better choice….I feel her pain, maybe she was embarrassed too or frustrated at the chastisement-albeit loving. Could it have been anything other than loving coming from our Lord to his friend? But I bet she did think about it. It makes me think too. I wonder if she went back to the food prep muttering about how someone has to do the work if they want to eat? I wonder if she set her towel down and loitered at the back of the room listening? I wonder if she sat down next to Mary and threw caution to the wind?

With all the hustle and bustle around, Mary found quiet in the chaos. She embraced the mess (though I’m not sure there was a mess in the way I find mess -toys, papers, clothes, food remnants. Really, how long has that sweet been stuck to the floor? But I bet there were pots out and cooking utensils and ingredients and dirty dishes and maybe Martha had just laid out the wash to dry, maybe there were the neighbor's children scurrying underfoot. I don't know. The Bible doesn't tell us. But I imagine that these were normal people doing normal tasks and the more I've gotten to know 'normal' people, the more I've realised that most people have mess. It's just the way it is.) So Mary embraces the mess, she accepts it for what it is, she decides to leave it, to find contentment with it there because even with the mess, Jesus was still there. He was there and He was available. She knew the work would get done, that the mess would be taken care of at some point. But it didn't matter when, because there was peace and learning and relationship that could happen at that moment. Even with the chaos and the inevitable noise of a house full of people, she tuned it out and found quiet at the feet of her Savior. The noises, the bustle, just dissipated into the background. Her attention was on one person only, on what He had to say.

I guess what I take from this is that Jesus shows up in the ordinary. He is perfectly present in the mundane. In the cooking of meals He is available. In the washing dishes, He's happy to talk. He doesn't come into my home and pass judgement on the mayhem. He comes to see me. He comes to bless my children, to watch them play and laugh at their stories. He comes to my table, to teach us to pray and to remind us of our privilege. He'll grab a seat and wait while I switch over the washing and then He'll gently put His hand on my arm and invite me to sit. To pour us some coffee and to take a seat on the couch and to have a real heart to heart. He sees how busy I am and He knows how torn I feel when I sit down with Him and the list of 'to dos' is swirling in my head. He knows I value the time with Him but He knows I wrestle with feeling I need to meet the physical needs of my family. He knows I struggle when my head says ‘do the work’ and my heart says ‘you'll do better when you've spent time with Him.’ He reminds me it can all wait. So, we sit a while longer, finding quiet in the chaos and honestly maybe just trying to ignore the mess, if not fully embrace it. And then we get up and He says let me take that cup and we head to the kitchen. The divine in the mundane. Walking beside me. Always ready to talk but also just ready to be. To be silent with me, as I think. To wrap His arms around my crying child, while I patch up the wounds. To whisper encouragement to me as I hang my head exhausted. To remind me the smudges will fade and the shoes will get bigger. That this 'mess' is only for a time. To hold my hand when I weep at my failings and to tell me it's not just my job alone. That He's working alongside me and that He's bridging the gaps. He points out my blessings, the riches I have. The favors poured upon me, that I had been too busy to notice. Too concerned with the order and fixing the chaos, instead of finding Him here. Oh friend, He is here. He's perfectly present. And if the divine is here in the mundane with me, in the mess and the chaos, the noise and the banter, then I can choose to be Mary. I can find Him in all of these things, because He is waiting to be found.

Our Daily Bread

Thu, 18 Jun 2020 13:32:59 GMT

Tears upon tears

Today, I find myself in tears, as my husband came back from grocery shopping for a family of 7. Tears of frustration at myself and the Western world we live in. Tears over the fact that I'm not more grateful for what we did get and do have, even if we have to get creative and did spend way more than was budgeted and tears over the fact that the money that should've come in, didn't come in.

Tears at the fact there was no regular meat in the store (do nuggets count?!), no veggies -fresh, frozen or canned (barring a couple of packs of salad,) no paper products, that getting baby products is hard, no bread products (hello trusty bread machine). Tears over the fact that stressful times bring out the selfishness of the society we live in. (Yes, I know it's brought out the best in some people too.) Tears over the greed. Tears over the fact that the grocery bill was more than it should've been because my husband tried his best to find alternative options to just about everything on my list (here's to convincing my kids to eat the vegan veggie burgers.)

Tears over the tears. Over the fact that I'm bothered by this. Over that I'm not teaching my kids to be more grateful as I sit wiping down the grocery packing -because does it really make a difference? I don't know. Tears wondering whether I'll be able to get diapers next week. Tears as I yell at the kids to stop using up the toilet paper because I can't get more. Tears as I tell the kids not to complain about what's put in front of them to eat because this is what we've got.

Today I lament.

Grief for the challenges, the changes, the inner frustrations, my own weakness, the mess we’re in, the fear, the suffering, the brokenness, the lost and hurting, the lack of answers.

This season I am learning again the meaning of living in the moment, strength for today and hope for tomorrow. The lyrics of an old hymn that shore me up and remind me of the many souls gone before who needed that same bolstering. It is a lesson not so easily learned. The heart and head don’t always agree. Sometimes I can feel the panic start to set in. We’ve faced uncertainties before and I know my God. I know He has never failed us. But sometimes the fear is just lurking in the corner waiting for an opportune moment to raise its ugly head. Sometimes that fragile thing I call faith starts to falter. The words that seemed so sure and easy to say are much harder to live out.

Great is your faithfulness oh God, even when there’s no job? Great is your faithfulness oh God, even when we’re wondering how to pay the bills? Great is your faithfulness oh God, even when we’re sent for testing? Great is your faithfulness, oh God, even when our loved ones are in isolation? Even when our freedom is restricted? Even when ‘normal’ doesn’t exist anymore? Great is your faithfulness, Oh God, even when our comfort is removed? Even when answers don’t come? Even when answers aren’t what we thought they should be? Even when suddenly the future seems unfamiliar and unknown? Trusting is so hard, isn’t it? Or is it just me? Even when we’ve experienced God’s faithfulness before and we think, with confidence, that our faith can weather another storm, when the wind comes howling across the sea, we turn, shield our face and shudder. Perhaps I’m not as solid as I thought I was. But this is it, isn’t it? It’s not really about us. It’s not really about my faith being strong enough. It’s about the faith-giver being strong enough. And at some point, I have to decide whether He is or He isn’t.

So, as I breathe I am reminded to continue trusting for our daily bread. One day at a time. That things really aren't that bad. That at the moment we still have. We still have food, we still have money, we still have a home, we still have each other, we still have God.

I wipe the tears and think, we'll find a way to laugh through this and maybe create crazy new recipes. We'll remember being resourceful at toilet time. We'll commit our finances to the Lord and know we'll be just fine and I'm reminded to pray for the places where people have nothing and this western girl is only getting a glimpse, from a distance, of the hardships that they face.

Self-sacrifice?

Wed, 17 Jun 2020 13:39:12 GMT

Laying myself down is different from giving up on myself.

Hello friend, thanks for stopping by. Care to join me for a quick visit? I’ll put the kettle on. You know I’ve been thinking about something a lot lately. I wonder what you think? This is definitely a season of global change. A time when families are being brought back together for some seriously intensive family connection. And let’s not kid ourselves, this comes with some challenges as well as some benefits. Every family has its ups and downs but these are magnified by about a hundred when you don’t have much time apart. Parents are juggling work and schooling and entertaining the kids as well as dealing with their own stressors and fears and emotions.

As I sat at the table with one of my kids, trying to engage them in the schoolwork they were supposed to be doing and battling their disinterest and my own feelings of rising frustration, (not only at the lack of cooperation but also at the large list that I had of my own things to do to keep family life running - the list that I wasn’t even making a dent in.) I started to think about how much more of myself I’ve been having to give recently. How much more thinly stretched I have felt with the round the clock demands of everyone wanting a piece of me, needing something from me and ne’er a quiet moment in sight.

I’ve always been an advocate of the theory that a rested, balanced mum, who gets a bit of time for refreshment, makes a better wife, a better mother, a better person. The reality is often far from the dream when life gets in the way. Now I know a lot of women do a stellar job at getting time to themselves and if that's you, I take my hat off to you for figuring that out. I’m not that girl. I’ve often dropped my arrangements in order to accommodate others. However, there comes a time when renewal is needed for the well-being of everyone. Right now, that renewal is much harder to come by. Or at least it may have to look different than my usual go-to top up strategies. But in my heart, I know I have to find a way to make this happen. To bring back some balance to our lives and some times of refreshment for myself and my husband and our marriage.

There's no doubt that at this moment in time, more is required of me as I take on the task of teaching my kids at home. There are many things in my own agenda that will have to be put on hold or cut back as I free up time to help with their studies. There is more organising, more juggling (different grade levels and different needs,) more dredging the recesses of my mind as I try to remember how to do 7th grade mathematics. There is more exhaustion as I do these things and still try to wash the clothes and cook the meals and pick up the Legos on the stairs for the 20th time this week. Yes, I am giving more of myself. But at some point I have to become aware that this laying down of myself, this sacrifice, is not the same as giving up on myself. It is not me saying it's ok for these things to come at the expense of quiet time or reading a book, or rest. Things that rejuvenate me. Things that enable me to be the best version of myself that I can. The better mother as opposed to the worn out, haggard tyrant that periodically has been visiting my household in these past few weeks. The better wife, who loves her husband well, rather than complains at all the things he hasn't done. The better daughter, sister, niece and friend who checks in with others to make sure their needs are being met. The better woman, who is grounded by the One who brings stability. Who gives energy. Who gives wisdom. He, who gives direction and sees the bigger needs of each member of this family, things that my eyes just wouldn’t see.

Giving up on myself, no longer gives room in my life for relationship, above all with the God who sustains us. And right now, in the midst of these extra demands and the upending of everything that we’ve known to be normal in our lives, I both want and need the active presence of this loving Father involved in my life. Without Him, without time to spend with Him and to enjoy things that recharge me- that He created me to enjoy, whether that’s a bubble bath or a walk in the garden - I start to become a shell of who He intended me to be. My human frailties are even more exposed, as I carry burdens on my shoulders that I wasn’t meant to carry.