In loving memory of Olivia and Steve. In honor of their families.

Music’s pulled me through the two weeks between Africa and Christmas. It’s fitting that the only post I visioned for Christmas is inspired by song.

Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant’s rendition of “Almost There” caught me off guard this week. I’d almost forgotten I’d heard it and loved it before. This time it was fresh, inspired, divinely grand – more than before.

I’ve been thinking about you…and me.

We’re almost there.

You’re almost there.

Christmas.

It’s a promise of love. A promise of light, life and better days ahead. A promise of a Savior, Jesus. A promise of eternal hope that exceeds all earthly hopes. A promise that our pain is temporary, absolutely incomparable to the glory yet to be revealed. A promise that we can surrender and receive the gift of grace, no strings attached.

I could’ve mustered a light-hearted post, a Christmas giveaway post or a “Christmas Wishes for You” post. I could’ve skipped a Christmas post, just forgotten about it this year. I could’ve counted my sister’s words as my Christmas post and left it at that. I could’ve decided or written just about anything, really. But my heart of heart’s telling me a whole lot of people are hurting, hopeless, lonely, overwhelmed, and seeking something more this Christmas.

Sure, not everyone.

But many.

We’re hiding in the woodwork, aren’t we?

Hiding.

Waiting.

For someone to acknowledge. For someone to tell us…you’re almost there. You’ve got this, friend. You’re going to make it.

And your life? It’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. You’re here for a reason, a purpose. You’re part of a grand design, an epic story you can’t even begin to wrap your mind around.

Keep pressing on, friend.

You’re almost there.

It’s Christmas.

Your promise.

Your hope.

Your firm foundation.

The place and peace you’ve been waiting for.

You’re almost there, friend. You’re almost there.

To the ones who lost their spouse this year, I see you. Whether your spouse’s death came tragically and senselessly, or you knew it was coming for years and years, it hurts all the same. Who knows WHY, HOW, or NOW? Only God, dear ones. Only God. Surround yourself with loved ones. Rest. Believe. Seek peace. Absolutely, without a doubt, cry when you need to. Know you were and are loved. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. Unconditionally. You are a fighter. You are a lover, a believer. Keep pressing on, friend. Life’s waiting for you. We’re here for you.

To the ones who felt lonely this year, I see you. Life’s demanding. Fast paced. Achievement oriented. Life leaves little time for relationship. Friend, if you’ve been lonely, take heart. Believe you’re worthy of pursuit, friendship and love. Reach out. Let someone know you’re not doing this alone, you can’t do this alone. Let your heart come undone. Be vulnerable. Take a risk. If someone strikes your fancy, make sure they know. “Hey, can we chat?” Or “Hey, you wanna go get coffee?” Let that guard down. Be a little vulnerable next year. Show your colors, friend. Start a friendship and relationship revolution. And when all else fails, turn to God. Tell him you’re lonely, trust Him to fill the void with Himself, with others.

To the ones who lost a child this year, I see you. Why was her life taken so soon, God? Why? We don’t understand. We don’t know why. Why show us the glimmer, the hope of a life filled with promise, then take her sweet soul home well before the timeline we deem satisfactory? To you, oh you, I see you. I don’t even begin to fathom your pain this Christmas, your love and your loss. Nobody will ever fill your sweet baby’s spot at the Christmas table. You don’t ever need to take down that stocking. That special spot, that special place she held in your heart and your life, it’s reserved for her and her alone. You move on, yes. Life goes on, yes. But your precious baby’s spirit lives on, too. Through your living. Through your being brave. Through your fragility, your vulnerability. Through your strength. Through your living example of what it means to trust and believe you’ll meet again, you’ll embrace again, you’ll be together again. And in the meantime, love like your heart’s on fire. Together or separated for now, LOVE.

To the ones sick and in forever limbo this year, I see you. If one thing’s for sure, you’ve been through a lot. While you’ve frequented clinics, hospitals and ERs, the world’s gone on. Sometimes it seems nobody sees, nobody knows the full extent of your pain, your half-living, half-dying life. Nobody knows the steps you’ve taken, the places you’ve limped, the ground you’ve wheeled. Only you, my friend, know what it’s like to live and know this life is truly temporary. I’ve not been sick, my friend, but I see you. I honor you. Lift your head high. Conquer that illness. Live fearlessly. Live each day like it’s your last. Be loved. Love. Trust that better days are ahead. Teach us how to fight the good fight.

To the ones wandering blankly through life, I see you. I saw you in Target yesterday, friend. Your eyes were empty. You barely saw me. You’re empty, friend. Life’s taken it out of you. You’re literally wandering, wondering, lost. I’m not sure if you even know, friend. I’m not sure you’re aware. I want to enter your world, stop you in your tracks. Stop moving, friend. Stop going. Stop trying all the things to fill the void. Stop believing you’re a robot. Friend, you’re so much more than this. So much more. You’re so much more than productivity, accomplishment and achievement. You’re so much more than your actions, your decisions, your duties and daily delights. Stop, friend. See. Be. Live. Connect. Look into someone’s eyes. Feel something, anything. Cry. Release it all. Sit down, friend. You are MORE THAN THIS. Take in the beauty. See the sights. Rest. You are not a machine. Life is better than it’s been. Take heart, friend. Take ahold of your heart. Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes. I want to see your soul. Wipe our eyes, God, so we can see. And be. All you want us to be.

We’re almost there, friends.

You’re almost there.

Christmas.

The promise of Jesus, a Savior.

The promise of love and peace and joy that passes all understanding.

To Mary, I see you. You’re carrying Him, baby Jesus. He who has…“shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor. Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.”  (Isaiah 9:4-7) Thank you for pondering these things in your heart. Thank you.

You’re almost there.

We’re almost there.

To God, our Heavenly Father, I see you. Thank you. For sending Jesus. For creating us. For releasing us from death, sin, loneliness, fear and pain. For giving us hope. For extending grace when we least deserve it and most need it. For living in us so we might see truth and life. For living in us so we can shine and be a light unto the world. For bringing and being beauty amidst our earthly existence. For everything, yes, everything. Thank you.

You’re almost here.

You’re here.

As the daughter of two public school teachers and now a grown mom of three, September is just as much a new year for me as New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day.

September 1st marks the dawn of a new school year, a new year, another fresh start on life.

Tonight, the truth came crashing down on me as I stood in the hot shower pondering all that’s been, all that is, all that will be. Often, inspiration for my writing comes in the shower. Blog posts swirl with detail. But tonight, my words weren’t coming to mind nearly as much as the bare-bones truth of the Bible. Passages washed over me with detail. One by one, they pieced together to tell a story, my story, maybe yours, too? A story of truth and peace. A story of living in the hard things of life, pressing on with purpose, trusting that in the end, our lives piece together into PERFECT sense.

That’s when I knew…for such a time as this, I must proclaim TRUTH over my life.

In this season of trusting, believing, risking, going and doing new things, I must proclaim truth and stick to that truth as my guide, my source of life. I must not waver. I must not look left and right. I must believe that truth exists. I must believe there is a WAY. That I’m not just fumbling around the universe haphazardly, but that I’m on this path for a purpose, for a particular reason in this particular season of history.

So tonight, this September 1st, I’m feeling a need to proclaim publicly, this truth over my life. These are the scriptures that came washing over me in the shower, all together, one after another. Perhaps they’re from our Heavenly Father for all of us. Perhaps you’ll see your story in these pieced-together verses as well. Perhaps these verses weren’t just for me, but you, too.

I very rarely “Bible thump” you over the head with verses on this blog. I strongly prefer showing you how faith plays out in my daily life in subtle ways, as feels natural. So bear with me. I’m diverting from my usual ways to proclaim this compilation of Bible verses as truth in my life because if I’m completely honest with myself and y’all, I’ve felt a spiritual attack these past years and months. I’m OVER it. So DONE. Today, I’m proclaiming TRUTH. Replacing those lies and attacks with TRUTH.

So be the truth.

Long live the TRUTH.

If you’d like to join me in claiming these truths, I would love to have you, friends. Call me crazy. Call me kooky. Call me “she’s lost her mind once and for all!” Call me whatever you wish. I need some truth tonight, this September 1st. And the only truth that’s flowing in this brain of mine are these promises, right here, for you and me.

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.”  Ephesians 4:1 

“Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  Matthew 10:39

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”  Philippians 4:6

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”  Ephesians 6:12

“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

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”  Proverbs 3:5

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.”  Colossians 3:23

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us…”  Hebrews 12:1

These words aren’t for everyone. But they are for someone. Whoever has ears to hear? Hear it.

My husband had the afternoon off, so we decided to include him in our Summer Bucket List fun for the first time ever. A family bike ride seemed to be the best option. After all, we desperately needed dad to fill all those tires and make sure everything was in working order.

Our two adult bikes were hanging from the garage rafters. We hadn’t ridden them in two, maybe three years. They were dusty, dirty, and the tires were completely deflated. So Seth broke out the pump and filled everyone’s tires while I managed other prep needs.

Two children put on their helmets without question. One child did NOT, I repeat, did NOT want to wear his helmet. “Dumb.” “Babyish.” “This looks so stupid,” he said. “Nobody my age wears a helmet.” We persisted that we were going on a very long bike ride and that he needed to wear that helmet. Finally, after much persuasion, he agreed and we were on our way.

As we biked out of our driveway, I realized it had been an incredibly LONG time since we’d gone on a family bike ride. I honestly couldn’t remember when the last family ride would have been. As we greeted a neighbor on our way out of the neighborhood, I also realized that it’s incredibly RARE to see families go on bike rides together anymore. Growing up, my family went on bike rides all the time. Back in the 80s, it was fairly routine to see families on casual evening bike rides around town. But today? Not so common at all.

By the time we got all the way out of the neighborhood, I was already a bit winded. Seth reminded me that I should be the most physically prepared for this bike ride since I work out so faithfully. But I haven’t ridden a bike for any long distance in years, so truth is, it wasn’t that easy for me. Why is it that biking as an adult is so much more physically taxing than it was when you were a kid?

We rode those bikes 3.5 miles anyway, all the way to our destination. Up hills. Down hills. Through neighborhoods. Along the highway for a bit. Across the railroad tracks. Then finally through a long bike path.

We drove without stopping, although when we arrived at our destination – a large park – we were exhausted. Thank goodness for the bottles of water I hauled in my backpack.

After a few minutes of rest, we decided we’d go down to the lake where there’s a public swimming area. Suddenly, the kids had a burst of energy. “Let’s go swimming!” Ummm….okay? They, of course, didn’t have swimsuits along, so they agreed to go in their clothes. Not exactly mom’s ideal scenario, but it worked. Two kids in the water with soaking wet clothes. One playing on the sandy, wet shore. No swimsuits for mom or dad. No towels. And no change of clothes for the kids. But again, it worked! Perhaps I need to get out of my box more often.

The fun eventually wore off and the kids came in from the water. We reminded them they’d have to ride all the way back (another 3.5 miles, mind you) with sopping wet clothes, that they might get chafed skin with all the rubbing that was about to happen. But they didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they barely complained about those wet clothes. Wet clothing wasn’t an issue at all. I was shocked.

So we made our way back, all 3.5 miles. Up hills. Down hills. Through the bike path. Across the railroad tracks. And along the highway. Maisie, our youngest, exclaimed “woo hoo” from her baby bike trailer the whole way long. (Yes, that was my favorite part of the adventure.)

The kids wanted to stop for ice cream. Dad thought it would be better to stop for another round of hydration. So I tended the bikes, and Seth and the kids went into a gas station for drinks. We refueled as customers pumped gas. Then we made our way back home.

Elsa LOVED it. Said she’d do this everyday.

Cooper not so much.

Maisie. “Woo hoo!”

Seth and I? A little exhausted.

Family bike ride? An overall success.

Family Bike Ride

Total Cost: $9.00 for beverages at the end of the ride

Mom Lesson: Step out of the box and have a little fun.

Kid Lesson: Don’t underestimate kids’ ability to go with the flow.

This post is part of a summer-long series titled Summer Bucket List. This is my first summer home full-time with our three children. My hope for this series is that it will challenge me to adventure out of my mothering comfort zone, will provide opportunities to live and write simply, practically, beautifully and meaningfully, and will stimulate some some fun ideas for your summer as well! To check out the entire series, click here and you’ll be directed to the introductory post where all the posts are listed and linked for easy reading. Enjoy, friends! And have a blessed summer.

Nearly all the guests had left. Just a few remained, mingling and chatting quietly in our kitchen and living room.

The evening was much more than the pipe dream I thought it was when I applied to host two months prior. It was God’s dream, God’s gift to us. Singer/songwriter, Ginny Owens, in our house performing an acoustic concert for an audience of 43.

Who would have guessed?

Who would have known this was possible?

Who would have believed such a thing to be true?

Ginny shared mentoring words with young and wise singer/songwriter, Jessica Joy, on our living room couch. Before I knew it, we were all gathered for a group picture in remembrance of the night Ginny Owens and Jessica Joy performed at our house.

I honestly can’t remember how it all went down or what the conversational context was, but shortly after we dispersed from the photo, Ginny said these words to me – totally unprompted, mind you.

“You’re so fun.”

I promptly called her on her word choice. “Funny you say that because FUN is the last word I would use to describe myself. In fact, I wrote a post about that just a couple weeks ago, how I’m so NOT fun.”

Ginny disagreed, “You are SO fun! You opened up your home to all these people and let us perform!”

Hmmm…

The conversation moved on. I didn’t have much more to say about that, but deep down Ginny’s words struck me like gold.

I’m fun? Really?

She sees me as fun? Really?

There’s no way it’s true.

I’m so NOT fun. I’m one of the most serious people I know. I take everything to heart and have been told hundreds of times to have more fun and be more excited about life.

What is this talk of me being FUN?

The night wrapped and a couple hours later I found myself in bed, unable to sleep. I was wired, like a maniac, like the night before I left for the Dominican Republic with Compassion International and didn’t get a wink of sleep.

I didn’t fall asleep until 1:30 a.m.

I woke up again at 3:00 a.m. and was up wide awake until 4:30 a.m.

Seems there was a battle in the middle of that night. A battle between good vs. evil, a battle between doubt and belief, a battle between the night being an amazing miracle and the night being pretty good with a few mishaps here and there, a battle of wondering why I was mostly serious and if I was even just a little bit fun.

I hope everyone had an amazing night.

I didn’t get to say good bye to LeeAnn & Ed.

I hope so and so felt welcome.

I feel bad that three people from Aaron’s party weren’t able to make it to the concert.

And what about that sort-of-awkward moment when I might’ve dove far too deep into someone else’s most serious conversation?

Why didn’t I get a picture of me and Monica with Ginny? I should have publicly thanked Monica for encouraging me to host the concert.

I feel bad that I broke up Ginny’s awesome mentoring conversation with Jessica Joy.

I didn’t thank Jim and Dianne enough for all of their help today and they stayed far too long and late. 

Oh man.

The enemy came crashing into this middle-of-the-night adrenaline rush party of mine. His intention was to steal, destroy and kill all the joy and peace I ever felt about the Ginny Owens concert that had just happened in my house. But God wasn’t having any of that.

Sometime during my 3:00-4:30 waking, I remembered Ginny’s words.

“You’re so fun.”

What was that?

Why did she say I was fun?

What made her say and believe so quickly and easily that I was FUN?

I was all in for Ginny’s song about God “Call[ing] Me Beautiful.” But “Call Me Fun?” Not so much.

That’s when I remembered. In the middle of the pitch black room all by myself. Overdosed on adrenaline.

I remembered the 10-year-old 1986 self from home videos. The video where I rode my sky blue bike with a sky blue, orange and white striped banana seat. I was proud and true. I wasn’t afraid of what the camera thought or anyone else for that matter. I spoke my mind. I wore my homemade red backpack and striped polo shirt and stood straight and tall. I was clearly a FUN girl.

Tears came to my eyes. I felt the Spirit rush over me, reminding me that while God made me mostly serious, contemplative and thoughtful, a true INFJ at heart, He also made me FUN.

Ginny’s words had opened my eyes.

Ginny spoke what she perceived and believed to be true. She perceived and believed that I was FUN. The absolute LAST word I would use to describe myself. But God knew I needed to hear it.

He whispered it in the dark of night as I lay in bed unable to sleep. While I might not be aware of it, while I might not acknowledge it, God made a part of me to be FUN.

Sure, I tapped into that 10-year-old “fun” self in 9th grade when Jenny taught me how to swear. Sure, I must have tapped into that 10-year-old fun self in high school when I seemed to be friends with everyone and was voted homecoming queen. And surely, I tapped into my “fun” self in college with all that partying those first couple of years. But there’s more fun to be had, a different sort of fun, the kind of fun God designed me for that’s barely been tapped.

Yes, this was eye opening.

I’d go so far to say that this is what ultimately brought me peace and helped me fall back asleep that night. The realization that God created me with MORE in mind, that part of that MORE might be more FUN.

Wow.

How about that?

Thank you, Ginny. I do believe God spoke truth through you that I really needed to hear for some reason.

So I’ve been wondering how this works for you, friends.

What part of you have you been holding back? What are the unknown, unexplored parts of you? Are there facets to your personality that you’ve never acknowledged, never embraced? What have you hidden from the world? What is it for you?

Perhaps you’re more adventurous than you know.

Perhaps you have an edgy side you’ve never explored.

Perhaps you need to let loose.

Perhaps you’re far more confident than you’ve let on.

Perhaps you need to initiate and believe you can do any and all things through Christ who strengthens you.

Perhaps you really ARE gracious and hospitable.

Perhaps your spirit is dying to be free.

Perhaps “just okay” is good enough.

Perhaps you don’t know and understand everything. Perhaps you don’t need to know and understand everything.

Perhaps you’re much more sensitive and tender-hearted than you’ve ever allowed yourself to be.

Perhaps you’re a dancer, a painter, a teacher, a counselor, a lover, a high flier, a farmer at heart. And you don’t even know it.

Perhaps you’re living large and you’re meant to live small.

Perhaps you’ve been living small and you’re meant to live large.

Perhaps you’ve pressed and pushed down half your real self your whole life long.

Is there anyone in the house for that?

I do believe there is.

Perhaps you know yourself oh so very well, but there’s a teeny tiny part of yourself waiting, longing to be expressed. What is that? Where is that? Why is that?

Ask yourself today.

Think about it.

Maybe you’re fun.

Maybe I’m fun.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s something else for you.

What’s the last word you’d use to describe yourself? Does something come to mind? Perhaps, just maybe, God put a little bit of that in you, too.

What is it, friend? What is it?