Open Up Beautiful Spaces...

The holidays represent a season of reflection. A time to recap the events of the year and connect with loved ones that are far off.  A welcomed opportunity to look in the faces of those near to me and communicate my love and gratitude. 

Tradition holds a prominent place this time of year. I caution falling into familiar patterns without connecting to their purpose and meaning. Tradition, done strictly for tradition sake is meaningless. Connecting to the roots of tradition can breathe life to something that may otherwise have been relegated to old and distant. 

Exercising love and gratitude are practices worth doing whether one is well acquainted with them or not. They are as necessary and nourishing as food and water. When I stop, and with intention, reflect on the good gifts generously given to me, it helps to silence the despair and disappointment that is baiting me with its seemingly urgent lie - that evil outweighs good. 

Fight with hope and thankfulness. Wield your weapons of joy and love to dismantle cynicism and fear. Celebrate the life you have right now. Speak what is true and cling to what is good. Christmas commemorates the beautiful beginning of the greatest love story of all time. That story belongs to me and it belongs to you. Hold it closely.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
‭‭Philippians‬ ‭4:8‬ ‭

Writing is enjoyable for me. The process can be arduous, but the refining is meaningful. My aim is to get the reconciled words of my heart and mind down on the page to be communicated to those who walk beside me and go behind me, specifically my children. Our lives and actions are constantly communicating. Writing is a discipline to communicate what exists in the deep places that often does not make its way to the surface. 

Consistently I am moved when reading a letter from one person written to another. I'll weep as I read the penned love letters between spouses distanced by continents and wars. Pages filled with affection and wisdom from fathers and mothers to their children, cause me to catch my breath. 

The memories of the emotions I've felt while observing these tender moments has moved me to action. I've penned letters to my precious people. I laughed and I cried as I struggled to communicate what was inside of me. Searching for the words and the phrases was a process infused with love.  

Your people need to know what you think about them and how deeply they are treasured.

Have you told them?  

And, maybe as equally important as delivering it, is hearing yourself say it. It softens the edges that we often work so hard to avoid. Speak your truth and see how your words open up the most beautiful of spaces. 

Margot.

I love the light sprinkle of freckles that have begun to show up on your nose. Your skin has kept its soft, smooth texture even as you have gotten older. When I snuggle you in my arms I  feel your skin,  and I close my eyes and imagine holding your small, newborn body in my arms. 

You are a delight to me. I look into your eyes and I see that they are full of wonder and imagination. You have always been an observer. You watch and drink in what is going on around you. I love to see an idea begin to take root in your mind. Your scurry around gathering the people and things needed to execute your plan. You are a leader and a visionary. I’m anticipating seeing you carry out the visions and dreams that are entrusted into your hands. 

Thank you for being a loving and caring sister. I love watching how you have taken Lucy under your wing and how you look out for her. Hudson is always up to challenge you to a duel.  When you aren’t hurting each other, you are pushing each other to be excellent,  to not give up and to keep at it. Your relationship with Ryken is unique and beautiful. You have learned to navigate life side by side, while making room for the other. You rejoice in the different gifts you each possess. As your mother I love seeing your relationship unfold. 

I thank God for the gift that you are to me and our family. He has great plans for your life. My prayer is that you will have a deep love for the one who created you. That you will delight in His ways and be lead by His voice. I’m sincerely looking forward to getting to know you as you continue to grow and change. I love you very much.

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Ryken.

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of you is your laughter. When you laugh you crinkle your nose and throw back your head. You are carefree and uninhibited. You carry compassion with you and easily disperse it. You fulfill the role of daughter, sister and friend with thoughtfulness and care. You engage with the world around you. You linger and you listen. I catch you repeating bits of information that you have stored away from an overheard conversation from days earlier. You are curious and want to learn. You seek the Truth, and I am confident that you will find it and never let it go. 

 The party starts with you. Celebrating is an innate quality you possess. I love that you set the table for breakfast, or just an afternoon snack, with fancy dishes and a centerpiece. You look around you to find beauty and are bubbling over with excitement to share it with everyone you know. 

I see that God has given you a generous heart. Whenever you have money you are so quick to give it away. You share quickly and with joy. It is an example to me.  I love that you give so freely without expecting anything in return.

You furrow your brow when you forming a question or wrestling with an idea. I always hope that you will share it with me. You always do. You are an open book and you wear your feelings on your sleeve. I treasure this. I want you to share honestly about your life and not feel the need to edit or hide things. You are quick to repent when you have made a mistake. You desire to live a life of reconciled relationships. To know you is to love you. You are confident in who you are and I love the quirkiness that you possess. I have thought to myself often that if I was your same age that I would choose you to be my friend. I’m looking forward to watching you grow and change into a young woman. You are beautiful Ryken, starting from the inside out.

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Hudson.

My son. You are strong and you are tender. I could not have picked a better combination. You love big and you fight hard. You want justice and you extend mercy. As you continue to grow older, I’ve wondered when you will grow out of wanting more swords and weapons for your birthday. Your room is full of them and you dream of having more. You were made to stand up and defend. You were made to fight for noble causes. 

You are the only boy in the midst of three girls, but you feel big feelings and don’t lack in emotion. You are a person made to enjoy other people and people enjoy you.  Your eyes smile just a few moments before your mouth does. You already know how to love well. You pursue and you give without restraint. Those around you never question how you feel about them. 

Since you were little you would spot a stranger at the park and leave with them as your friend. You have influence even at the young age of 5. People look to you to lead and direct. My prayer is that you would live a life worthy to be followed. 

There are so many things that I love about you, but right now my favorite thing is how you so easily encourage others. You truly rejoice when others succeed and root them on in all their endeavors. Watching you as a teammate on your sports teams makes me so proud. You are always quick to put your arm around a friend and tell them to keep trying and not give up. You are the loudest fan from the sidelines when your buddies are in the game. That is such a significant sign of a leader. You want others to succeed and be their best. It isn't about you. It is about them.

I know we go head to head often. I think you and I are alike in many ways. I’m working on not reacting to you and to parent with patience and grace. I’m glad we have learned to hug it out. Let’s never stop doing that.  I love you Hudson. 

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Lucy.

You are the light of our family. You bring joy wherever you go.  You have a sense of humor that surpasses your age and you are adaptable in many different situations. You are independent and strong and courageously try new things such as onions and diving boards. You like both.

When I was pregnant with you I imagined a sweet, precious baby girl, which you are. You are also so much more than that. You have so much life and curiosity inside of you and you are so quick to extend love to those around you. 

You find your way into the bed between Dad and I almost every night. Your soft squishy skin presses up against mine and you stroke my cheek with your little stubby hands. I treasure that you want to be so close and want to comfort and love me in the ways I have loved you. It is a sweet gift that I treasure. 

I’ve let you stay a “baby” longer than any of the other kids. There are behaviors and habits that you exhibit that are no longer age appropriate, but I am so very aware that this is the last go around. I hope that I am not psychologically stunting your growth by my sentimental tactics. If I am, I will pay for your therapy sessions. 

I can already tell that you have a self assurance and confidence that will not easily be shaken. You move forward knowing where you are headed and what you want. You play hard and laugh a lot. Having dinner with you at the table is a guarantee for jokes and silly antics. It is medicine to our family. Don’t ever lose the joy. 

You notice the small things and are so thankful for them, A week has passed since a mechanical horse ride at the store and you still thank me for it three times a day.  This combination of joy, gratitude and strength is exceptionally beautiful. God has marked you and set you apart. The light He has put inside of you is bright and has already been far reaching in these three short years. I love watching you shine. It is what you were made to do.

Life as it unfolds

When I first met Taylor, I was intrigued. He was obviously attractive, athletic and intelligent, but there was something more. Being a relationally motivated person, I know how to keep conversations flowing. I am constantly asking questions to find out more about people. What I immediately noticed and was drawn to in Taylor, was that he came to the table asking a completely different set of questions. His eye saw things that mine didn’t. His ears heard sounds that I would have missed.

Lucky for me, after hanging around with each other for awhile, Taylor asked me if we could hang out forever. I have never regretted saying yes. He still intrigues me and comes to the table with a different set of questions than ones that I would think to ask. He is sharp and quick; witty and dry; tender and full of mercy. I am continually learning from him. He inspires and he motivates.

One of the gifts that he has given to me and to those around him is documentation. He captures life as it unfolds. He somehow fades into the background and captures beautiful moments exchanged between kindred hearts. An exchange and/or interaction that I experienced in real time, was captured from a different vantage point, from an alternate perspective. It adds a fullness and richness to the memory of the moment. I treasure that those experiences can be revisited and remembered in a more robust way.

These things that have been documented over time are treasures to me. I find joy in sharing the things that I love, so I am sharing these moments with you. I want everyone to know that I am married to an extremely amazing and talented man. I love you Taylor Carl Armerding. I always will.

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Capturing footage of our 4th celebration has become a tradition. I'm hoping these continue for decades.

We stole away to the PNW for a getaway. I'm so glad that this day was documented. It is a day I wish I could do over and over again. 

A school performance I missed while visiting my sister in Georgia.  A love letter in pictures. 

strollers, scooters, and swings

Inside Outside...

Spring has delivered sunny days and breezy nights. We've capitalized on the cool evenings and have been sleeping with the windows open. The cool drifts of fresh air in the early mornings is delightful. It makes me want to curl up under the blankets even longer. But, no matter how great that moment feels, there is one thing that will get me to hop out of my bed at light speed...the screaming.

The high pitched siren, met with intense whining gets me to my feet. If you are thinking to yourself that I am a proactive mother dealing promptly with my children, don't. I do not fly out of bed to interrupt and redirect the fighting, to ask questions and defuse the situation, to capitalize with a Mr. Rogers-style lesson in morality. Nope...I RUN...to shut all the open windows. No one should ever have to hear the sound I am experiencing, especially at 6 am. I work to get those windows closed so that when I start in with MY screaming no one outside will hear. I don't want people to know that sound is coming from my house, my offspring, my mouth.

This phenomenon has been heightened recently. The empty lot directly behind our house is now being occupied with new homes. They have been making their way around the street and have now begun to lay the foundation for the house directly behind us. Before, when the scream explosion would happen, I ran to the windows imagining the neighbors on either side of us, sitting on their patios or sleeping with their windows open, and that sound entering their serene space. But, there was also the hope they were inside with the windows shut, and the sound landed only on the grass and trees. Now imagination has given way to reality - I know there are people out there because I can see them, and I can hear them. No more hiding.

I despise this pattern of behavior in me. I twinge every time it happens, yet, I do it over and over again. I want to fight hard to keep the mess inside. But lately I have noticed some fatigue setting in from all my effort trying to portray a life that is put together. I know in my guts the futility of trying to live like this. Accolades from others only causes me to tread water longer, becoming exhausted and getting nowhere fast. I have a sense that I am not alone in this. This is the condition of the human heart - the desire to be well thought of, to be affirmed, to be impressive, to stand out - and we will perform in order to achieve these things.

 "Remember He is the artist and you are only the picture. You can't see it. So quietly submit to be painted- i.e., keep fulfilling all the obvious duties of your station (you really know quite well enough what they are!), asking forgiveness for each failure and then leaving it alone. You are in the right way. Walk- don't keep on looking at it." - C.S. Lewis

I know in my mind the truth of God's grace and His love for me. I have heard that I don't have to perform for Him enough times that I think I believe it. I think I know the truth but I'm not sure all the thinking has produced change. My desire to be strong and capable stands in the way of allowing this truth to penetrate the walls of my heart. I do not want my desire to strive, work and prove to block the thing I am despertely needing. Grace can solve the condition of the human heart.

"Have you not heard?  Have you never understood? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of His understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint." Isaiah 40: 28-31

Let it be.

These words water a deep place inside of me. A place so dry that it is cracked and breaking. The truth of this passage has the power to change my reality. When I receive His grace I can then extend it to my children. The grace you get is the grace you give. I don't want to live in the conversation of fear and failure any longer. It takes a conscious choice to let Truth interrupt the conversation that has been looping on repeat. I am weak, but He is strong. My weakness showcases His strength.

“….'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work though me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9

God's word leads me into living a life where I'm not pretending. He leads me toward living a life of integrity - one where the inside and the outside look the same. He empowers me to say no to living a divided life - one messy, closed-off, and hidden and the other composed, buttoned-up, and polished. Again and again I have seen God pursue me in the midst of the mess. He isn't embarrassed by my screaming fits. He doesn't shush me and shut me up. He moves towards me. He loves me with a love that can heal all my broken places. 

"You are always there for me

You listen every time I speak

You look into my eyes

You see the things I hide

And say that You will never leave

Your promises I can not break

And I know You will never change"

Jehovah Remembers...

In the spring of 2014, our family was in the midst of some change. It was good change, but change that revealed fear, doubt and insecurity that was alive and growing on the inside of me. I was desperate for more of God. Some big questions and big dreams were rattling around in my head and heart. I had a longing to connect to women - older sisters and mothers - who were further along the race than me. Women that would speak truth, believe God, risk in boldness and obedience, champion the cause of Christ,  and call others to do the same. I began talking to God about those desires and longings. I made my request known. 

God answered me...through the internet. It was not the vehicle that I expected, but, His ways are not my ways, so I decided to trust the process.

One evening in April God showed up. I stumbled upon to the IF:Gathering webpage. I started reading and didn't stop. I devoured every word. As I read each story, my heart began to beat a little faster. I knew that night, that I would be in Austin in February 2015. 

I want to share the fullness of all that God did and spoke to me on the evening of Saturday, February 7th, in Austin, Texas.   In my attempt to portray it all clearly, I have to go back a bit.  So here is the back story.

I've known God since I was young, but it was not until 12 years ago that I experienced the power of the Holy Spirit in my life. It changed the game. I was filled with a fervor and a faith that kept me awake at night. One of the things that I prayed for in boldness,  was for resurrected life. I wasn't speaking figuratively. I wanted the dead to rise and proclaim the name of Jesus. I read the book of Acts and prayed to see that type of power in my life and the stories of those around me. Shortly after this experience, In late November 2004, a friend of mine from college was tragically killed in a car accident. My husband and I were newly married and had little to no wiggle room in our finances. The funeral was in Wisconsin, and the possibility of going looked bleak. The day after receiving the news of Andrew's death,  some dear friends provided us with the money for two plane tickets. They sensed that God wanted us to be there for the funeral. We immediately booked our flights. And I immediately began praying for my friend Andrew to be raised from the dead. I didn't have a clue as to how to pray this way, but I prayed with all the faith I had in me.  We attended the funeral, and I was on pins and needles the whole time. I had faith that something was going to happen. My heart leaped as the pastor laid his hand on the pine casket. I believed that God could do it, that He would do it.  After the service was completed, the casket was brought into the church foyer. Friends and family were given the opportunity to write on the pine casket if they chose to. I don't remember what I wrote on the casket, but I put both of my hands on it and prayed again. God was able to move in this way but, He chose not to. As the casket was lowered into the ground, the grief set in. I had risked and believed, and frankly, now I felt a fool.

Right then, God came near and rushed in. He confronted me with my inaccurate view of heaven. I believed that it would be better for Andrew to be here. In my mind, and with limited understanding, here was better. The promise of eternity is not choir robes, with our hands folded in boredom, singing forever. I pictured Andrew, my wonderfully creative friend, playing his guitar, dancing, and laughing with His Creator. God wanted to show me the truth, even if at the time it was just a glimpse, about eternity, His character, and the promise of heaven. I still felt a bit sheepish for believing in such a big thing- for the dead to be raised- but what He spoke to me about heaven that day spoke of His goodness. Andrew was worshipping God in eternity, and that was a promise of God fulfilled. I would choose to have faith and risk again.

I did not expect to be presented with the opportunity to pray for resurrected life again so soon - especially not on behalf of the life inside my womb. A year and a half after Andrew died I was given the news that the baby that had been growing inside of me was now lifeless, with no beat to its heart. This baby had been prayed for, longed for, and celebrated from the moment of its conception. The heart had stopped, but my body was not beginning the process of miscarriage. The baby was staying put, lifeless inside of me. I was ready to go again with God. I know it didn't happen with Andrew, but I was praying once again for resurrected life. I was banking on the promise that with God, all things are possible. His word says He did it then, so He could do it now.

I prayed for weeks. My doctor recommended a D&C if my body did not miscarry. I desperately did not want that to happen. I still had hope, and I needed to get to Jesus. I drove to see a dear friend of mine who has been a spiritual mother to me. I needed someone to sit with me, to pray with me as I fell apart. I was desperate. What happened that day changed me forever. My friend Linda looked at me and said, “Let's ask Jesus some questions”. Prayer was not a new practice to me, but learning to listen and ask specific questions was. I complied. I wanted divine intervention in this struggle of faith and hope. I closed my eyes. I sat and waited until, in my mind's eye, I could see Jesus. 

I asked him the simple question...“Is the baby with you, or is the baby with me?” What He told me next, I will never forget. He said, "The baby is with me"” That was not the answer I was wanting to hear, but I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and love at that moment.

Linda prompted me to continue to ask Jesus questions if I had them. I continued,

"What sex was the baby?”

"I gave you a firstborn son”

“What is his name?”

[For all of you women out there who have children or have ever dreamed of having children, I know you have a list of names. I had a very long list of names that I had been compiling long before being pregnant. The name Jesus spoke to me next was a name that had never been on my list.]

“His name is Zachary”

My friend Tiffany, who had traveled with me to Linda's house that day, quickly ran into the other room to pull out the name-meaning book. She flipped to the back section until she came to the Z's and found the name. What she said next, I could have never anticipated. “Zachary means Jehovah remembers.”

I asked Jesus one final question.

“Can I see him?”

At that moment, I experienced what I can best describe as an open vision. My eyes were closed, but suddenly I saw things so clearly they felt real. I was on a beach, standing a few feet from the crashing waves. I looked to my left and saw a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy running toward me. He looked to be about 18 months old, to my estimation. He was wearing a white shirt with thin red and blue pinstripes. He ran into my arms, and I held him tightly. I buried my head in his neck. And I wept. He was happy and whole and rubbing his chubby little hands all over my tear-stained face. He was perfect.

I stayed in that moment for what felt like an hour. I was unaware of time and space. Linda's voice broke through and beckoned me, saying, “When you are ready, give him to Jesus.”

 I saw Jesus standing next to me on that beach; I knew it was time. With fresh tears, I kissed Zachary and handed him to Jesus. What struck me was that Jesus was crying with me. He knew how this felt, and what it cost, and He was with me. His presence provided me with peace and strength that was supernatural.

It was finished,  and I was a puddle of tears on the ground. I had received news that I never wanted to hear- that my baby boy, inside my womb, would never be held in my arms on this side of heaven. The weight of that landed on me. Yet,  I was covered with a peace I had never known and a love that had never felt so true. I had contended for resurrected life and had come up holding different promises from God than the one I was asking for.

He is with me

He speaks to me

He comforts me

He remembers me.

Those moments happened many years ago but are still very close to my heart. Since those stone marker moments, my faith has waned. In more seasons than I would ever like to admit, I have doubted the promises of God.

These stories have been fresh in my heart and mind this past year. I have begun to ask God about them.  He calls me to live by faith-  to once more believe for big things. To believe that He can resurrect life again (figuratively and literally), heal the sick, and pour out His power on the earth. I do not want to fall prey to the enemy's lie that I am foolish and naive to think that my God could move like that in the world, in America, my generation, and my life. I serve on the women's ministry team at my church. We just started a study on the life of Jesus and the things He calls us to. I have been asked to teach one of the weeks, and this message of faith, to believe and contend for big things, is stirring in my heart. I am nervous and fighting against thoughts of sounding like the crazy lady who prays for the dead. It was a gift to hear countless stories from women around the country about faith from the IF team. Going into the IF: Gathering, my prayer was that as I declared His goodness in the midst of disappointing outcomes, renewed faith would be the outcome.  I needed a fresh encounter with Him as I called other women to live by faith. The stories I shared are powerful and true in my life, but they happened long ago. I was asking God to meet me personally and speak to my heart in such a distinct way that it would be a stone marker I would refer to for decades to come.

He is a God who answers prayer!

I am so thankful for the obedience of others and what it opens up for the rest of us. For what it opens up for me. To all the women who gave endlessly to make IF: gathering a reality, thank you.  Thank you for praying. Thank you for laying down your lives. Thank you for speaking the hard words, even if they felt crazy to say.  Jennie Allen's first message on Friday morning, February 6th,  caused my bones to tremble. I felt the Holy Spirit so powerfully it scared me. And then, it just continued. I wanted to jump out of my seat as Rebekah Lyons talked about revival, and when Esther Havens ended with the story of the Guatemalan blind and lame woman having her sight restored and being given the ability to walk,   I could not sit still in my seat. My faith was being revived. When I thought I was at capacity and couldn't be filled anymore, God wrecked me in the best way. Jen Hatmaker and Lindsey Nobles got up to talk about Feed the Children, an organization that feeds hungry children in the US and around the globe. I'm not proud to admit this about myself, but this is when I tend to tune out or take a bathroom break. But I didn't. I listened and was excited about the vision but concluded that it wasn't something my family could commit to. We are faithful to give; we already sponsor a child, and my husband just left corporate America to serve on staff at our church......the excuses went on. Until I reached below my chair and opened my packet. I pulled out a card and saw a name at the top... ZACHARY

He is an 8-year-old boy who lives with his Dad and doesn't have a mom. He walks long miles to school and the nearest store. His favorite food is boiled hot dogs. And he is hungry.

Time froze. My son Zachary would have been eight years old on January 29th, 2015. God cut through to the deepest part of me and said...

“Jehovah remembers. I remember your faith. Go again. Believe me, for the big things. I see you, I know you,  and I will use you. Trust me.”

I filled out my packet that, at this point, was drenched with tears. I turned in my form and went to the back of the floor level of the auditorium and fell on my face. It was a holy moment. I am scared and unsure of what will come, but I know that my God is able and that my Redeemer lives! I will trust Him and believe He is who He says He is. On my stone marker, I wrote four declarations of faith.

The blind will see

The lame will walk

Sickness will flee

The dead will be raised

These things are happening on the earth right now. He is pouring out His Spirit in power to bring glory to His name. I will pray in faith for these things. I hope I get to see them.  But, even if don't, He is good. He is always good. 

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Small Pots...

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Several years ago we inherited two potted Japanese Maples from my parents. From time to time we would roll them around our property, testing out new locations in hopes of finding a spot with the right mix of shade and sunlight. They stayed alive but never seemed to really thrive. Last spring, I finally put those trees in the ground. They have grown beautifully. They are more healthy than ever before. 

I have found myself surprised by how they've flourished and realized the extent to which being potted had limited their growth. Life in the pot meant limited nutrients and limited development and limited potential. They were not connected to a life source.

I've also observed something that was unexpected. As one of these trees grew and flourished, a small shoot of a different kind sprung up right behind it. I've kept an eye on this shoot and it has now become a large, fast growing tree.

Tay and I have been perplexed as to where it came from and what sort of tree it is. The other day I finally realized what had happened. The Japanese Maple trees had been in pots for years, maybe decades. When we lived at our previous house, we kept one of them on our porch. It sat under the shade of a much larger tree. A seed from that tree had fallen and been lying dormant in the potted soil. Years and years later, this seed found soil, germinated and is now growing and thriving.

It makes me think about my life with God. When I've lived with small faith and believed in a small God, I've been more limited and have found that I'm more dramatically affected by the circumstances and elements around me. But the times that I've believed God is really who He says He is, I break out of those small confining spaces and soak up His truth, life, and the Holy Spirit's living water - all of which nourish the deepest places inside me.

I love the beautiful metaphor found with the unexpected tree hiding out in the potted plant. It is an amazing picture of the dormant things God will awaken in us when we transplant our whole lives in Him. In God it is possible that something altogether new - something unlike us or our natural abilities - can spring forth. When, in faith we step outside the predictable, potted confines of our world and surrender, He will be faithful to grow our roots deep in Him and spread our branches wide. He is longing to be our source. He is longing to use us to make His name famous on the earth.

What parts of your life are a potted tree? Where have you limited God? Are you tired of being in the same spot without growth? God is bigger than you could ever imagine. If you're thirsty, come get a drink. I promise you will not be disappointed.

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"For they are transplanted to the Lord's own house. They flourish in the courts of our God. Even in old age they will still produce fruit; they will remain vital and green. They will declare, "The Lord is just! He is my rock! There is no evil in him!" Psalm 92:13-15

So Here I Am...

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Life with four kids does not always lend to peaceful mornings. But on this particular day, I managed to shower and get out of the house on time - I marked it as a win. I'm learning to celebrate the small things, because in this last 5-7 year span, the small things are the only things. I made my way downtown to my favorite coffee shop. The line was long because apparently it isn't only my favorite spot. After ordering I scavenged the place for a seat, and opted for a small two top on the patio outside

The friend I was meeting arrived a bit late and got caught up in a conversation with a woman in line. In the waiting,  I started to pay attention to those sitting around me, particularly the table of men to my right. They were probably all 55 or older, and I knew each one of them. I didn't know them well, but each man at the table had a daughter or son, whom I would call a friend. Two of the men were fathers to a few of my elementary school classmates. I have vivid memories of sleepovers at their houses while in 5th and 6th grade where I was introduced to the Rocky Horror Picture Show, the art of TP-ing and the "couples-skate” at Roller Towne. One of the men was the father of a friend that I met later in life. His daughter and I had worked together at the same PR firm one summer and have been part of the same local church for the past 5 years. The last man sitting at the table was the father of a guy I went to high school with and had a crush on. His son was the captain of the soccer team, who also happens to be the cousin of my high school best friend. I spent a week one summer in a cabin with their whole extended family in Lake Tahoe.

My mind began to wander back to those times and spaces. Life felt easy and uncomplicated in those years. It was a trip down memory lane and a longing to know what my friends were doing and who they had become filled my thoughts and heart. Yet, regardless of all those connections and newly discovered yearnings, I sat there and didn't say a word. I sipped my coffee and busied myself with the scenes and happenings across the street and stayed occupied with social media sites on my phone. I didn't move towards them in posture, eye contact or conversation.

My friend finally made her way to the table and we had a beautiful conversation about risk and obedience and living our lives intentionally looking for how it folds into the bigger story. She recently launched her own photography studio [JackiPotorke.com] and was about to leave for Uganda to participate in the Archibald Project. I was so proud of my friend and the risk she was willing to take because she knew that God was asking her to. I shared with her from a vulnerable place that I sensed that this was the year I was to begin documenting the lives and stories around me that are whispers and shadows of the greatest story ever told. The story of God. I didn't know what that would look like, but I knew that I was already dragging my feet in getting started. Part of writing today is because of that conversation. We dreamed of traveling the world storytelling the lives of those we met,  through a moment captured on film, and through the written word. Although those thoughts and desires feel very far off, I need to dream out loud and write them down, for fear they will get lost somewhere in my head and wither away.

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I'm learning more and more that words matter. About 2 years ago, something inside me woke up. I began to have a growing appetite for books, for stories. I have lived my life as an extrovert. My friends and family would describe me as an extreme version of the term. I love people. I love hearing about people's lives and the things they are learning and experiencing. I often think about the amazing people that I have not yet met. In these past two years I have settled a bit and found myself longing for a quiet, extended, one-sided conversation with a book, rather than with a group of rowdy friends. Maybe I am repositioning myself on the extrovert/introvert continuum and landing somewhere in the balanced middle. Of course I still desire to be connected to people around me, just in a more intentional way. I want to begin to engage and pay attention in a way that, if I am honest, I have not done until now. Reading other's thoughts, questions and stories has birthed something deep inside me - a desire to engage the world around me with a sense of wonder and awe.

So here I am - looking for meaningful moments amidst the familiar. 

It has been a few weeks since the coffee date with my friend, and I cannot shake my lack of courage to interact with the men seated at the table next to me. Why didn't I open my mouth? What was I afraid of? I realized that I was waiting to be noticed, to be recognized. I didn't want to risk sounding foolish. A simple hello and introduction could have changed the course of that morning. I genuinely was curious to know what was going on in the the lives of their children - my friends - and I missed that opportunity because I was scared. I don't want fear to dictate whether I open my mouth. I really had nothing to fear that day. I resolved then that I would live from a greater place of courage, confidence and boldness. I don't want to continue missing those chances to connect and see people. To look them in the eye and ask honest questions. I can't guarantee what I will be given in return, but I am only responsible for my part.

Writing feels like a safe second chance - it provides the opportunity to say the things that I didn't have the courage to the first time around. Writing also feels like a risky endeavor - I'm releasing my words into unknown areas that are outside of my control. Scary and exhilarating all at the same time.

As I write of what is possible with God, my heart beats a bit faster in my chest. This really is the best news ever. I have lived for over 30 years keeping this life-giving reality at bay in conversations. I've told myself that I don't want to offend you. The irony is that in the end I am actually not thinking about you, I am thinking about me. As I peel back my fears, I've found that in my heart of hearts I long for something more - a life centered around God. Life with God is not boring, mundane or meaningless. It is full of abundance, provides the gift of joy in the midst of every circumstance, and brings hope in a world that is grasping for it in all the wrong places.

So here I am - finding my voice and my words.

I will be courageous to speak them out in the moments and places that He gives them to me. I will write them down so they can go forth. I will not squander what He places in my hands. I will fear God more than I fear man.

For the first time in my life those words are not just a hope and a longing - they are coming true.