Safe in His Arms

I cried at the county fair tonight. And then laughed at my silly tears. Hormones, I said as I shrugged to my husband and shifted the sleeping infant in a carrier on my chest. We were watching the Terror of Vikings ride-- that huge long boat that goes back and forth like a giant glider swing. When I was a kid, it was called the Banana Boat. Terror of Vikings sounds much cooler and more fitting. But I digress. On the very tip of the boat, the part that goes the highest, sat a young boy and his dad. The boy's face held a mix of fear and excitement as the swing went higher and higher. The dad's arm was draped around the boy and held his son tighter each giant swing back and forth, a gentle smile on his face as he enjoyed the ride with his son. The boy began to relax and laugh with delight despite (or because of?) the height and speed of the ride.

And that's when the tears came. There was something so incredibly beautiful about seeing the peace and security that come from a loving, protective father. It was a small moment that spoke of a larger truth. In a world of absent or dysfunctional fatherhood, seeing this sweet cameo of true fatherly love and protection, seeing the confidence and joy it brought to the son, made my heart swell with how good and right the picture was.

It was also a glimpse of the great love our Heavenly Father has for us. This all-powerful Father who allows us on the ups and downs of life because He's right there beside us. He holds us tightly and wants us to trust Him and His protection. Only through leaning on Him can we truly begin to relax and see the view.

His arm is around you and holds you safely. Open your eyes, throw up your hands, and enjoy the ride.

Everything Is Already Okay

A newborn, a toddler, and a homeless man. Never in a million years did I think I'd be living with all three under one roof. Yet here we are.

When my husband originally asked me if we could shelter this man with no family and no money, who had lost a job and would soon have to move out of his current apartment...I said no. I was overwhelmed with a reflux baby, sleep deprivation, and a moody toddler. I could barely find time and energy to take care of our little crew, surely God wasn't calling us to do this and add one more? (I know, I know. So selfish of me when we are so blessed, but I'm keeping it real, y'all.)

But then a couple days later in prayer I knew He was. And so we invited him (or Him? -Matthew 25:40) into our home.

About once a week I start to get panicky about finances and time and energy and how long can we keep doing this. In the middle of last week, I had one of those days. I was on the way to the grocery and just feeling weary and overwhelmed. Not quite discouraged, but just on the brink. I asked God for some sort of sign. He's already given us several affirmations (like the time a family sent us a random gift card in the mail, not even knowing about our guest, that just happened to be the amount I had spent extra on groceries that week) but I felt like I needed a hug from God...a sign that He was with me, He cared, and He would work things out for all of us.

He sent me that sign in the meat section of Aldi's. A lovely middle-aged black woman saw me looking at the chicken prices while my sleeping baby was strapped to my chest in a carrier. She oohed over him and asked a few questions, then when we were going our separate ways she pointedly and emphatically said, "GOD BLESS you honey, and GOD BLESS your baby." Immediately my mind went back to my prayer and I had tears in my eyes as this woman blessed us. I wanted to share it with her but was afraid I'd break down in the grocery and how silly that would look over a simple "God bless you."

Instead I silently prayed for her as I continued through the grocery, encouraged by God reaching out to me through her. After bagging my groceries and heading out to my car, I noticed her getting into her van. She saw me walking through the parking lot and drove over, got out of her car, and started loading my groceries into my trunk. "That way you can get the baby into the car sooner and out of this hot weather," she said.

I knew there was no excuse to not share my story with her now, so I quickly mentioned how I'd prayed for God to reach out to me today and how much it meant that she had been a believer and blessed us in the grocery. Before I could even finish, she wrapped her arms around me and the baby in a big hug and started praying over us. It was so beautiful. The best part was when she prayed:

"Lord, we know that you are at work and going to make everything okay...we know that because of You, everything is already okay."

And then she was gone. And my day was changed.

What an incredible encounter. It was such a powerful reminder that when we ask God to show up, He does. When we ask Him for a hug, sometimes He gives us a real one.

And when we know Him and trust Him in this life, everything is already okay.

*******
(I would love your prayers for our friend...God has found him a job and now we are looking for inexpensive apartment.)

When a Grocery Trip Changes Your Day

There's something about the grocery store that provides so many ways to grow in holiness.

We all go there. It's pretty mundane. Yet the way we interact with people can change the course of our day-- and theirs. There's a lot of opportunity in that. 

Last week I was in the checkout line, unloading my cart. The line behind me was getting long and the person in front of me was slowly finishing his transaction. As it became my turn, I realized why things were going slower than usual. 

A middle-aged man with a fresh, innocent face was the bagger. It was clear that he had a developmental disability and it was clear this was a new job for him as the cashier directed him to 'pack the fruits together' or 'put the bread on top.' The cashier seemed a little frazzled and apologetic to the customers and I could hear the edge in her voice as she hurried him along...not in a mean way, but moreso in a way that showed she was nervous that we were all annoyed and upset with the sweet man taking his sweet time. 

Maybe it's the pregnancy hormones. Or maybe it's just the human connection. But I watched the scene with a flood of compassion unleashing inside. And I knew I wanted to say something to let her know it was okay.

I smiled at the bagger and said, "you're learning from the best. I love the way you guys bag groceries here." It was kind of silly but it was all that came to mind as I smiled at the cashier, trying to reassure her that I didn't mind the delay.

Her whole expression changed from stress to appreciation. She smiled at me and said "You have a really good day, ma'am." Neither one of us said what we were really thinking. But there was a knowing between us, a silent communication between us. 

I continued to chat with the bagger as I helped him load my cart. His innocence and friendliness cut my heart as I thought about how often I myself am in such a rush...and how hard it must be for him and others like him to go slow in a world that won't slow down and make room. 

The grocery bagger gave me a gift that day along with my purchases...a reminder to slow down and see people. Every moment of life holds beauty...why am I so quick to miss it and rush to the next moment? Many people may have thought him simple and slow, but by God's grace that day I saw that he was the one living with true wisdom and grace -- focusing on the moment, carefully performing his tasks with intentionality,  and seeing and engaging the people right in front of him. 

I drove home with tears in my eyes, my trunk full of well-packed groceries, and a heart full of gratitude for an unexpected lesson in love.

God Places the Lonely in Families

"God places the lonely in families." -Psalm 68:6

This verse. I can't get it out of my head. I don't even remember when I read it, but somehow it's been on my mind and heart the past couple months and that's usually a pretty good sign the Holy Spirit put it there. 

But what does it mean?

I'm now married, living in our cozy home, raising a little girl and ready to welcome another baby in the spring. My life and my heart are full in a beautiful way. Because of my family. 

We are meant for family. God Himself came to earth in a family with Mary and Joseph. Even in the Trinity, we see the family image of Father, Son, and Spirit. The first created humans were a family with Adam and Eve and their children. Obviously, family is a pretty big deal to God. 

On this worldwide Mission Sunday, I'm thinking about my own family's mission. And you know what keeps surfacing? Perhaps my family's mission these days is not so much to go out, but to invite in.

We are so blessed with the love of each other in our little family. Companionship, conversation, faith, warmth. In our broken world, not everyone has this. And without family, life can be so very lonely. God knows this, and so I believe He asks those of us that do have a healthy, loving family life to invite in those who are lonely. God wants to place those people in our family. This includes:

The single woman yearning for children, uncertain of her place during so many upcoming holidays that often center around children. She needs to be included, not only with your children and the fun activities, but as a friend and equal with her own valuable experience for you to learn from.

The person struggling with same-sex attraction yet trying to live a chaste life and follow the Church's teachings on human sexuality. They need so greatly for the Church to BE family to them, to welcome them in with love and grace and belonging. 

The elderly lady who lost her husband a year ago and whose children live far away. She needs your family to welcome her in and show her she still has so much worth and purpose and wisdom to share. 

God has adopted each one of as as His children (Romans 8:23, Ephesians 1:5) and has made us a family in the Church. For those of us who also have loving families we live with (whether it be your spouse or your parents), let's respond to God's call to allow Him to place the lonely in our families. Don't be afraid to reach out and invite someone in to your everyday life-- your meals, your trips, your holidays, your mess.

It may not be the greatest-reaching mission like those evangelizing in other countries. But to one lonely person, by simply inviting him or her into your loving family, it's life-changing.

The Ordinary

It was a typical morning. My hair was messed up. I was overtired, chugging the coffee while I tried to read a devotional or pray a morning offering. The baby crawled around, interrupting me every two minutes but smiling so darn cute. I started thinking about all I needed to do for the day, most of it trivial yet necessary (meals, laundry, cleaning, etc.), and I could feel a negative attitude coming on.

And then a quote changed the course of my morning.

I'm reading Resisting Happiness by Matthew Kelly. There's nothing particular new about each chapter, yet all of them are life-changing. It's the simple things I don't do but should. The truths that are so important yet I forget.

Like this one:

"God loves ordinary things. The world is always trying to seduce us with the extraordinary. The culture fills our hearts and minds with spectacular dreams about hitting home runs, but life is about getting up every day and hitting a single."

If your life is feeling mundane and ordinary today, embrace it. God does. Let's focus on faithfully hitting a single today.

Afraid to Love

(Originally written March 2016)

What's the greatest thing that holds you back from experiencing true love?

A deep, dark sin? 

A busy schedule?

A spell from a poisonous apple given to you by a Disney movie witch?

Though it could be (almost) any of those, I'm going to guess none of those are actually the greatest stumbling block to love for you and for me. 

You know what is, though?

Fear. 

Throughout my life, I've seen fear hold me back time and again from loving fully, loving freely, and loving...well...fearlessly. 

My husband and I were privileged to hear Matt Hammitt (former lead singer of Sanctus Real) speak at my workplace fundraiser this past week. We were both powerfully impacted by the story of his son Bowen, who was diagnosed with a rare heart defect at 20 weeks in the womb. Matt and his wife, though advised to abort little Bowen and end his life, chose life and continued with their pregnancy. Little Bowen had open heart surgery at just 4 days after birth and the recovery included an episode when Bowen's tiny heart stopped beating-- a doctor did compressions on his bare heart in his open chest while Matt and his wife cried and prayed and held on to the blue toes of their beloved son. 

But God has plans for Bowen. And we saw the adorable five-year-old this past week as he helped his dad sing a song on stage that was written around the time of Bowen's birth. 

Matt shared with us that he struggled to become attached to Bowen after that tragic prenatal diagnosis. The pregnancy became a time of fear and uncertainty and even detachment. As his song states, Matt was "afraid to love something that could break." Yet God continued to move in his heart and mind and showed him that he could love Bowen in the way God loves us-- with all that was in him. Without reserve. Without condition. Without fear. Yes, there might be sadness or struggle or even loss, but freely and fearlessly loving-- being all in-- was worth it. He learned to "trade the fear of all that I could lose for every moment I share with you." ("All of Me," Matt Hammitt)

My husband and I had tears as we listened to his powerful testimony and our little one kicked inside my own belly. Though our baby had a healthy heart at 20 weeks, this pregnancy has been rocky with bad blood level results and our own fears due to our previous miscarriage. We have struggled with detachment at times and being afraid to love this precious child too much in case we lose this one, too. 

But God continues to work in our hearts and we, too, are learning what it looks like to love freely, fully, and fearlessly. Despite lab results or increased medications, we are learning to rejoice in every moment we spend with this incredible gift from God growing inside me. 

Fear creeps in to every relationship and circumstances because the devil is always trying to keep us from experiencing the rich love of the Father and the love He desires us to have with each other. Where might fear be holding you back?

Are you sharing your deepest self with your spouse--physically, emotionally, mentally-- or are you holding back because you're afraid of feeling inadequate or unloved?

Are you diving deeper into your relationships with family and friends, or are you afraid of losing them to distance, disagreements, or even death?

Are you tithing, giving, and sharing with others or are you afraid of financial insecurity?

Are you sharing God's truths with other or do you fear misunderstanding or being made fun of?

And here's the biggest one: is fear holding you back from throwing yourself into your Heavenly Father's arms? Whether you're afraid of your mistakes and sins or you just feel ashamed for not living up to your potential, know that He will never reject you and is always ready with open arms, abundant mercy, and the grace to start fresh. He loves you with all that He is, and wants to teach you to do the same. 

Let's experience that freeing love together this week. God is an expert at breaking the chains of fear. All we need do is ask. 

These Days

Other than book reviews, I'm not blogging much these days. I'm thinking a lot, but my fingers stall on the keys.

Not much is happening, yet so much is happening. I told my mama-friend the other day how odd it is when someone asks how I've been. To the outside eye, every day is simply the same-- staying at home with my daughter, the diapers and food and naps and such. Yet every day feels like a roller coaster internally with all the physical, mental and emotional energy the day commands. Especially the emotional. No one told me that motherhood would take me to the end of myself and mirror back to me not only the best of myself and my strength, but also the ugly parts and the weakness.

But there's this nagging fear that maybe I'm the only one who thinks this is hard. Maybe she has family that lives nearby to help. Maybe her husband has different work hours. Maybe my perfectionist personality brings on my own hardships. Maybe it's just me.

Then there's this nagging guilt that this is everything I've ever dreamed of, this life of home and hearth and husband and babies. Guilt for the friends' who want this so desperately. The friends whose left fingers are empty of a ring, or whose wombs are empty of a heartbeat. I know. I remember. So I feel guilty when having those things now feels hard. 

Sure, there are the days when music is playing and dinner is cooking and the baby is smiling and my soul is soaring. There can be nothing greater than this, I think, my heart fairly bursting with gratitude and joy in this season of my life. My husband is romantic and charming, my baby is gorgeous and endearing, myself productive and accomplished and enjoying a good hair day (ha! rarely for that last one!). The sun shines and I cannot think of a better way to spend my life.

This swinging of the pendulum drives me crazy. Why am I so fickle? Why cannot I not be steadfast in the mountains and the valleys? Why cannot I not remember the joys in the hard times? Why cannot I see the grace in the the distasteful moments? Why cannot I not "count it all joy" (James 1:2)?

We're coming out of a week of teething, tummy bugs, respiratory bugs, and freezing temperatures and snow. I'd like to say I handled it all with saintly wisdom and grace and patience, but instead I feel bedraggled and, well, dragged through it. The lack of sleep and the constant body fluids wore me down.

But there's the tiniest light inside me that says all is not hopeless within me. That even though I don't like what I see in myself, God sees more. That even though I might have trudged more than I danced through it, I still did it. I showed up and offered up and begged for grace. I saw the places where I need His healing and molding and cleansing. Isn't that what Lent is all about? Perhaps this is all the point. God is at work, but it is a process. And for someone like me, that's difficult. I want so badly to "do things right" from the start but God simply wants me to do them and give them to Him, letting go of the outcome....and maybe sometimes not even to do, but just be.

My delusion is often that since motherhood is my vocation, I must do it well (and dare I say perfect?) all of the time and from the very beginning. Yet I forget that because motherhood is my vocation, God is going to use it to make me into the woman He desires and created me to be-- which will not happen instantly but rather over a lifetime. And wouldn't it make sense that the very vocation that will shine light on the dark and broken places for healing to occur will be a little messy (or a lot!) at times? I know when I'm cleaning out a closet, it gets messier before it gets cleaner!

I'm broken, friends. And that's hard. But it's also hopeful! We serve a God who mends the broken places and makes beautiful mosaics from them...and then shines through them.

"We're all broken...that's how the light gets in." -Ernest Hemingway

Maybe it's time I start focusing on the Light instead of the broken.

Come, Lord Jesus, Light of the World, and shine through us this day, even and especially through the broken places.

What a Dog and Instagram Taught Me About My Relationship With God

I was on a walk this afternoon with our Little Dog. He's a tiny guy who will sit in your lap all day unless the front door is open, in which case he will escape and run for miles like the child of a rabbit and a white-tailed deer. While I was blissfully enjoying the sunshine and farmland on our walk, the Little Dog came across a small animal, broke the leash, and was off to the races leaving me in his dust...

Want to read more? I was over blogging at the Catholic Sip this week, drawing inspiration from our crazy little Brogan-dog. (They have a great podcast you might enjoy as well!)

Media Detox

I'm detoxing this week, friends.

No, I'm not drinking that weird mix of lemonade, maple syrup, and cayenne pepper.

I'm not slurping green smoothies with chunks of broccoli and kale floating in them.

I'm not even exercising (okay, I'm going to try to take a run tonight!).

Instead, I'm cleansing my mind and spirit from habits related to a little handheld idol...

My Smart Phone.

The other day I was reflecting on the amount of time I spend on my phone (and the internet). It's not that I spend long hours at a time online...but rather that I fill little moments with it. If I'm in a waiting room at a medical office, waiting in the grocery store, eating lunch by myself, even if I'm procrastinating getting out of bed in the morning-- I'm scanning through the apps on my phone. What's new on Facebook, Instagram, or Pinterest?

It's so. easy. to get hooked on it and to waste those precious little moments with it. I mean, what else would I be doing during those short bursts of time? But that's the problem! What could I be doing with that time? (Prayer for others, meditation on God's love, thinking of a creative way to bring joy to someone else, relishing silence and simplicity.)

My phone can be an enjoyable distraction and a comforting habit. But it's also a thief. Of mental energy. Of focus and concentration. Of joy and contentment (what one of us has NOT struggled with comparison or jealously perusing a social media site at one time?).

Enter the detox plan.

As I reflected on my phone use and wondered what it would be like to use those moments in other ways, I thought...."I should do a fasting week from my phone sometime." Sometime. You know, like far in the future.

But then I changed my mind. There's no time like the present, right? So I announced it to my sister to hold me accountable. And then she decided to join and told my mom. And then my mom decided to join.

And then that night on the news they discussed a recent study on cell phones and the way our constant 'notifications' from them distract our focus and cause us to make up to THREE TIMES more mistakes than we would normally make on whatever we're working on. Thank you, Lord, for the affirmation of my decision! :)

Want to join us? Here's the scoop. We're not throwing the computers, laptops, and phones in the lake. We're being pretty reasonable about this, in case you were getting nervous when I asked you to join.

Here are my rules for the week:

1. Phone can only be used for texts and calls.

2. I am allowed to reference my Pinterest boards for projects/DIY/recipes that I'm working on, but no new pins or scrolling through my feed.

3. I can blog to my little heart's content because writing is creative and beautiful and joyful.

4. No Facebook at all. No Instagram at all (painful!). No surfing from blog to blog to blog.

I'm on Day 2 and it's been fabulous. My mind feels clearer already. I feel closer to the Lord because I don't feel like my online activities are coming before Him. I don't think we were ever meant to have such information overload and such busyness that the online world creates. I'll go back to it, of course. Just like I'd go back to a slice of chocolate cake after a veggie detox. But I'm re-creating better habits in the meantime. Like more discipline in my prayer life and time management.

I'll let you know more thoughts when the week is over! Until then, don't pin anything great that I'll miss out on! ;)

Love,

Turning the Page

This has been a beautiful holiday break. I mean, hey, it's 1:15pm and I'm cuddled in my chair with coffee, the Little Dog, and a Christmas quilt. Does it get any more cozy than this?

Quiet simplicity and time for reflection. My soul is happily expanding.

I'm reflecting on 2014. And looking ahead at 2015. I'm thinking about all of you. Some of you have been with me the past several years...maybe even some of you since the blog started. You, too, have caused my soul to expand with your own stories, your comments, your love and encouragement. God uses everything. Even (especially?) the internet. To connect His children. The kindred spirits I'd never have known if it weren't for the blog. So thank you. For being with me on the journey.

This past year was full of sunshine and storms and much grace. The beginning of the year found me lost in Paris. No joke. Stranded alone at an airport without a working cell phone and only a French phrase book to guide me. Pretty much an emergency course in trusting God's providence and protection. But all is well as I sit in my American home a year later, realizing with His help I conquered the metro system and my fears.

February found me reeling from a second break-up with my now-fiance. Even on heart-sharing blogs, there must be some things kept in a private corner of the heart. So though I want to share more details, and certainly would if you were across from me with your own coffee mug in hand, I'll simply repeat that God uses everything. I never doubted P.'s love for me, but both of us painfully separated to figure out what God really wanted from us. What a time of surrender and being covered by grace. Of being stripped of everything but the present moment. Of learning to pray with an open hand and heart, confused but earnestly desiring God to make His plan known whatever it might be. If you're going through your own storm right now, my heart is with you. I have tears in my eyes as I write this because hearts that have been broken love best and care most. Lean into Him, friend. He is enough. He does love you and has not forgotten you, even when you don't understand His ways.

I resigned from my manager position with the crisis pregnancy center this spring. It was a difficult decision (to put it mildly) but seemed best when I looked at the neglected areas of my life due to a too busy and stressful schedule. I'm still able to volunteer for them and have more one-on-one contact with clients, including performing ultrasounds-- my true passion. So though I miss the leadership role, I think this current role is perfect for this season and I look forward to how the Lord will use all my experiences in the future to promote a culture of life.

The summertime found me traveling to Tennessee with a carload of 6 girlfriends en route to our cabin in the mountains! We called our Facebook planning group "Epic Tennessee Adventure" and looking back, I can't think of a better description! It was an adventure, and it was epic. I learned how to cook on a charcoal grill, prayed devotions with the girls on our cabin deck, braved class 4 white water rafting, hiked the Smokies, and soaked in a hot tub with my sisters while Dollywood shot off fireworks in the distance. Traveling is such a bonding experience (and it can bring out the worst in us, too, haha!); this trip was a treasured gift and memory.

Then in October, there's this fairy tale where the dragon is slain, the forests are navigated, and all of a sudden I have this diamond on my left hand, the man I love before me, and overflowing joy in my heart. It's humbling and crazy and amazing and messy and indescribably beautiful. Our time apart has solidified our foundation in Christ and I am forever grateful. For all of it. Our God is in the business of redeeming everything we give Him...especially ourselves.

So this 2014 stuff: lost in Paris, then found in Tennessee. A broken heart then a heart that overflows (Psalm 45:1). What can happen in a year...

Now I'm turned the page. 2015. Marriage. Moving. Life as I know it is changing. Will you stay with me, my friends? You who have traveled with me, who send emails and comment love, who remind me time and again how beautiful are human hearts? I invite you into my journey of 2015, my heart and my life. I hope you will let me walk with you, too.

Grace upon grace,

Hidden Kindness

Hardly anyone knew I was nursing a broken heart that day. And every day for the past several weeks. It's just easier sometimes to hide a broken heart and shattered dreams and shameful disappointment.

But whenever I hide from the world during suffering, I find a gift and grace hiding there as well-- the ability to see people more clearly, more slowly, more beautifully. 

And so it was that day.

I was her cardiac stress test nurse. She was my patient for four hours, a quiet little woman who seemed to be hiding from the world, too. In a fast-paced day, she was slow and calm and silent, a nursing home resident confined to a wheelchair and needing help even to stand up. Her mind was slow and her body slower. Neither of us spoke much during the test though I tried to be gentle with her, to take extra time explaining things, touch her hand reassuringly, cover her with an extra blanket.

I was transferring her to radiology for the next portion of her test. We were on a tight schedule, keeping rhythm with the clock, a small margin for delays. But she needed to use the restroom. So we stopped and I donned my gloves and ditched my pride and helped her...because we're all going to need help someday. Maybe it's the slow beating of a broken heart that gives us time to see but all of a sudden it felt like the most dignified job in the world. Assisting this needy woman in her vulnerability was a gift, a mission, an honor.

She slowly, meticulously washed her hands afterwards while I held her by the sink. She took the paper towel and slowly, meticulously dried around the sink, wiping the porcelain basin and the faucet. In a public medical restroom. I never do that and it struck me. Such a little thing but such a thoughtful thing. Why do I think I'm above that? That the hired cleaning help can do that? That I'm in too much of a hurry to make it a little cleaner for the next person? It wasn't even necessarily the action but rather the gentle and humble spirit that accompanied it. The hidden care and kindness.

I was realizing this slow, quiet little woman was teaching me.

But there was more to come.

As I lowered her back into the wheelchair and squeezed her hand gently, she looked up at me with the purest blue eyes meeting my own and said "Thank you." One of the few things she said all day but with incredible sincerity and meaning.

I saw Jesus. 

Unmistakably. Undeniably. In those beautiful blue eyes that reflected a precious soul unseen by many.

We don't always see Him where we want or where we expect...or even where we look for Him. In the wake of my grieving, I realized by now in life I wanted to see Him reflected in the eyes of a baby of my own held in my embrace. But instead He was showing up in the eyes of this woman as I connected with her. As we both hid from a world too loud and fast and uncaring. 

That was months ago. But I now gently and purposefully wipe my sink after washing the dishes or washing my hands and I remember her. The quiet little woman tucked away who showed me the eyes of Jesus...and His heart.

Walking With Mary: A Book Review

I recently finished Walking With Mary: A Biblical Journey from Nazareth to the Cross, by Edward Sri. And let me tell you, every step was fascinating!! I loved this book!

At Christmastime, Christians all over recognize and remember Mary, the mother of God...but the rest of the year, so many forget her. Yet what a gift she is to us from her Son! A perfect example of Christian womanhood for us to imitate, and a special motherly intercessor on our behalf.

This book was a gem in that it dug deeper into the life of Mary solely based on the Scriptures. I was impacted by reflecting on her solid faith and trust in conceiving, bearing, and raising the Son of God. She inspired me with her faithfulness, humility, and trust in God even when she was not in control and could not see the future. (such a great lesson for me!) 

Though there only a few areas Mary appears in Scripture, I was amazed at the significance and deeper meanings of them. It was so beautiful to learn more about "the Woman clothed with the sun" in Revelation, Jesus' important words to Mary from the Cross, the conversation between Mary and her cousin Elizabeth, and the power of Gabriel's message to Mary in Luke Chapter 1.

One of my favorite parts was the last one I mentioned: the angel Gabriel's message to Mary (also the prayer we know as the Hail Mary). In Luke 1, we read that he called her "full of grace," God's name for her. He said "the Lord is with you," which in the Old Testament was said whenever a heavenly messenger appeared to someone on earth to give them a difficult task, a demanding mission. Mary knew this, but said yes. She was human and knew not what was ahead. She was troubled but chose faith over fear. She said yes to whatever God wanted of her and so was chosen to bear Him to the world. What an incredible woman. How blessed we are that God gave her to us as our Mother too.

This book was easy to understand despite the in-depth breaking apart of Scripture. It encouraged me, inspired me, and made me reflect on my own womanhood and how I can become more like Mary, and more like the woman God created me to be.

I highly recommend it and think both my Catholic and my Protestant brothers and sisters would enjoy it.

Want more info on this book, or interesting in purchasing it? This link has a summary and an author bio.


[Thank you to Blogging for Books for the free copy for this review. These are my honest and original comments.]

Second Week of Advent

Sitting at the kitchen table with the Little Dog on my lap. Homemade spaghetti sauce warming on the stove (thank you, freezer, for giving me fresh food in the winter!). Achingly beautiful Christmas music playing in the background, making me tear up at the slightest swell of instruments.

And I'm thinking about you.

All you wonderful people who visit this site.  (um, and just a little bit about the Christmas cookies in the fridge.)You who welcome me into your home by reading my blog. (okay, I understand if that sounds a little creepy.) Who type comment love or friendly emails here and there, reminding me that my brothers and sisters live all over this big world but are so very beautifully connected.

So I wanted to say hello. And happy Advent.

You know I love this Church season of Advent. This invitation to slow down, seek quiet, trust in waiting, surrender to mystery. It wraps itself around my soul with gentle beckoning.

I responded this year to that call as with other years. I was ready to prepare Him room. I told my women's share group about my goals of finding Christ in the quiet, darkness, fasting, and waiting...just as our Advent program had focused on.

Somehow I pictured myself transformed by fervent prayer, calm solitude, overwhelming peace.

Instead these first two weeks have been more characterized by fervent grumbling, calm despair, and overwhelming uncertainty.

Don't get me wrong. I still love the season. I have my decorations up and my heart lights up when my Christmas tree does. I hosted a cookie swap with a dozen or so girlfriends. I sipped hot chocolate with two of them and crafted Christmas cards. I've absolutely relished a new Advent devotional recommended by a friend (Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas).

But amidst all that, I find myself being selfish, discontent, lonely, and discouraged. I play the comparison game. I get frustrated at both jobs. I need a break from people but I get lonely at home. I choose the temporary over the eternal. I whine. I pout. I sin. It's not a pretty sight, soul-friends. And that further discourages me, because this isn't how I wanted my Advent to be. Old memories surface. Unfulfilled desires nudge. It hurts.

I'm not where I want to be. I'm not who I want to be.

Emmanuel. My heart cries out.

I keep learning.

God-Is-With-Us.

Instead of the warmth of Advent wrapping around me, I'm feeling stripped of control and comfort.

It's cold. It's vulnerable. It's painful. It's messy. But hope draws near. Because these are the conditions of the Christmas stable. Of the uncomfortable Christmas journey to Bethlehem.

Messy manger. Messy heart.

I'm finding He chooses both to dwell within.

This Advent is not what I planned. But somehow He's using it. He's making it beautiful before I can see it.

Like Mary, He simply wants me to be open. To be. To look to Him with trust so that He can enter in and be born to the world through me. (From that amazing devotional I mentioned above!)

Maybe I'm not where I want to be or who I want to be. But I know this tender Savior enters into our messes. To transform us into who He wants us to be.

Maybe He's already here.

Emmanuel.

Heart Lessons

I was tired. We were short on nurses that day. My coffee had worn off and my patience had worn thin.

I sat down beside the last patient of the day and tried to mentally slow down. She was here for a check up, she wasn't feeling any better, had no money, had no hobbies, had no energy or breath to accomplish anything, smelled like cigarette smoke, and didn't know how to get rid of her anxiety and depression.

As I type this, my heart is tugged with empathy for her as I see her struggles bunched together like that.

Yet I struggled with cynicism. She hardly let me get a word in edgewise and I'm not sure she heard me when I did. Her heart was weak from a long history of cocaine abuse. It was pumping at a mere fraction of the strength and efficiency of a normal heart. It was no wonder she was short of breath and tired.

I tried to listen. I tried to respond with kindness. But in my heart, I was frustrated, and if I'm real with myself--annoyed.

Then Dr. A came in to see her. He was tired, too.

She barely let him get a word in edgewise either. She cried and laughed and complained and pleaded.

And he just kept gently re-directing her. He went above and beyond what most doctors would do. He didn't care if her past had led her here. He simply wanted to heal her. He went all over the clinic to find her a free medication. He spoke to her the same way he speaks to anyone else. He treated her with dignity and without judgment. He smiled and gave her hope.

I stood by and watched.

Conscience-stricken.

Because a Muslim doctor just showed a Christian nurse how to be more like Christ.

Wisdom for Wednesdays

 

I will trust in You
You've never failed before
I will trust in You

 

If there's a road I should walk
Help me find it if I need to be still
Give me peace for the moment
Whatever Your will, whatever Your will

 

Can you help me find it?
Can you help me find it?

 

I'm giving You fear and You give faith
I giving you doubt, You give me grace
For every step I've never been alone

 

Even when it hurts, You'll have Your way
Even in the valley I will say
With every breath, You've never let me go

 

I lift my empty hands
(Come fill me up again)
Have Your way my King
(I give my all to You)

 

I lift my eyes again
(Was blind but now I see)
'Cause You are all I need

 

If there's a road I should walk
Help me find it if I need to be still
Give me peace for the moment
Whatever Your will, whatever Your will

 

Can you help me find it?
Can you help me find it?

-"Help Me Find It," Sidewalk Prophets

Where There is Love, There is God: A Book Review

I remember being in 5th grade when she died. The same year Princess Diana died. We had our kids' issue of Time magazine and both women graced the cover.

As a young girl, the pictures of the beautiful Princess fascinated me...

Yet even then, I remember the indescribable, intriguing beauty of the other woman.

Mother Teresa.

That was fifteen years ago, but she continues to inspire me the more I learn about her life, her heart, and her overflowing love for God and others.

So when I saw this book become available for review, I jumped at the chance to read more of her beautiful yet challenging words. Her humility and simplicity sometimes mask the strength and courage of this incredible daughter of God. Yet in every picture of her I see that unmistakable grace, that light of Christ shining through her. And I want to be like that. That's the beauty I want.

Though it would be too extensive to chronicle my path to my upcoming Haiti trip, this woman has had a huge part in it. We'll be working with the same order she was a part of--the Missionaries of Charity-- and I'm deeply happy to meet them and see the same spirit of joy and love among them that exuded from her. As a Catholic, I firmly believe in the Body of Christ both here on earth and in heaven, so I asked for her prayers surrounding the trip, that all would work out for me to go if God willed it and that my heart would be open to whatever way things turned out--even if it meant humbly accepting that I could not go. Sweet friends in Heaven.

Where There is Love, There is God is a collection of letters, speeches, and teaching from Mother Teresa. As the title implies, the resounding theme is love. It all comes down to love. Not a fluffy, emotional type love, but a deep, powerful love that can only come from intimacy with God, the One who is Love.

Time and again, she exhorts us to go deeper in prayer to find joy, peace, unending love, and a heart ready to serve--not to perform or check off good deeds, but rather as an outpouring of the love we receive from the Father. This is what the secular world does not seem to see in Mother Teresa...that she not only served the poor and was a world-changer in social justice, but that her service was so deeply rooted in a relationship with Christ. As St. Paul says, our actions are nothing without Love.

Beautiful. And challenging. Sometimes the simplest things are the most difficult.

This book is a treasure. The only downside I could possibly say about it is that it takes a long time to read--simply because each paragraph is so rich and so full of thought-provoking sentiments. And yet, perhaps to path of holiness is best taken one small step at a time. To reflect on one small truth at a time and let it sink deeply into our hearts and souls. Here are a few of those small steps that I loved. (And if you like, you can read Chapter 1 here!)

'The Father loves me, He wants me, He needs me.' That kind of attitude is our trust, our joy, our conviction. Anything may come: impatience, failures, joy, but say to yourself, 'The Father loves me.'

You must be full of silence, for in the silence of the heart God speaks. An empty heart God fills.

What does it mean to be alone with Jesus? It doesn't mean to sit alone with your own thoughts. No, but even in the midst of the work and of people, you know His presence. It means that you know that He is close to you, that He loves you, that you are precious to Him, that He is in love with you.

And if my heart is pure, if in my heart is Jesus, if my heart is a tabernacle of the living God to sanctify in grace: Jesus and I are one.

[This book was provided to me at no cost in exchange for a review. These are my honest and original thoughts about the book. Thank you, WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Company!]

We Still Sing

"Sing we now of Christmas
Sing we all Noel
Of the Lord and Savior
We the tidings tell."

Eight of us met that night for Christmas caroling at the nursing home. What an incredibly beautiful experience. Though Christmas was still ten days away, it felt as if Christmas came to us that night.

Or maybe not Christmas...but Christ who came and was indeed in our midst.

We walked through the dimly lit halls, eight voices lifted in song, altos and sopranos mingling in harmony. As we passed each room, we would pause at the door to finish the song, then ask for any requests. "Silent Night" was the one most often chosen--for who isn't touched by the holy wonder of that song?

Later as I reflected on the gifts of girlfriends and kindness and music, I realized the evening held even deeper meaning behind it...

Click here to read the rest of this article at The Catholic Young Woman

Wisdom for Wednesdays

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Wisdom for Wednesdays

"...and then I will sing, I will always sing, even if I must gather my roses in the very midst of thorns--and the longer and sharper the thorns the sweeter shall be my song."

-Story of a Soul, St. Therese of Lisieux

Heartbeats

It’s a usual Friday morning as I watch our echocardiogram technician perform an echo ultrasound on a patient’s heart. I hear the familiar whoosh of the transducer as it locates the different valves and the ventricles of the heart. I’ve seen these pictures before but they never fail to leave me spellbound and hushed as I watch a beating heart pump life-giving blood in a human body.

Later that morning, I sit at a computer, scanning a heart monitor a worn by a patient for 48 hours. Every beat flashes before my eyes on the screen as I search for any abnormal rhythms that could be a cause of his symptoms. Analyzing the rates and forms and rhythms of someone’s heartbeat has become a comfortable routine for me…yet today I’m in awe as I’m reminded that every beat I see is giving someone life.

I turn on some praise music as I scan. The lyrics of the refrain reverberate in my soul, “Lord I’m amazed by You. Lord, I’m amazed by You. How you love me.”

As 118, 091 beats pass by, I’m amazed anew at the complexity of the human body, of the human heart. My amazement lifts my mind to the One who created it, Who keeps it in existence—every breath, every heartbeat.

I place my hand on my own heart. Every beat is a sign of His love. I feel the steady rhythm pulsing with life-giving blood—from One who is life-giving Love. Now you try. Place your hand over your heart right now. (It’s okay—no one’s looking. And if they are, ask them to join you.) Feel the strength of each beat and know that He loves you. You’ve heard it and you know it, but let. it. sink. in. Every beat is a sign of His desire for you to live and know you are loved. A sign of His desire to live in you and for your hearts to beat as one.

May we be convinced of that, comforted by it, and inspired to share that truth with everyone we meet.

Father. I have no words. Only a heart that desires to beat for you. To receive your love more deeply and share it more freely. Thank you for this amazing love.