Look up, child

     I've been drowning. Drowning for a long time now. I've been drowning so long that I almost forgot what it felt like to breath.

     Self-doubt, self-righteousness, self-reliance and self-focus. Those are the things that I've been drowning in. Yeah, there's a pattern. It's all about self.

     I thought I was a strong swimmer. I figured I could handle just about anything that life throws at me. Big waves? Not even scared. Sharks? They got nothing on me. Storms? Bring 'em on.

     What I forgot about when I jumped into the water was that my self-reliance was like adamantium bones. I thought it made me strong like Wolverine. Sometimes I felt strong like Wolverine. But in the ocean of life these heavy metal bones just doom me to Davy Jones's locker. A deep dark place where life is empty and breath is gone.

     I've always loved the wordless book. What a beautiful idea to put the entirety of the Gospel into 5 short pages of color for everyone to understand and share. It starts with darkness. Every good story does. My heart was lost and black with sin. Then red for what Jesus did on the cross. Then comes white because our sin is forgiven and wiped away. Green is us growing in Christ and yellow is our future in paradise. But I always got stuck on green. I think we all do.

     Green is where most of us spend a majority of our earthly lives. Grow, grow, grow in Christ. We try our best to grow well. We read our Bible, go to church, get involved in ministry, read inspirational books by insightful authors, pray fervently, go to Bible studies, wash, rinse, repeat. We exert enormous energy in developing the coveted fruits of the Spirit. We love everyone, or at least we have to say we do, and we teach our kids to mimic our good deeds.

     But if most of us are honest, all our striving and working barely grows anything in us at all. We still have short tempers, lustful hearts, discontent minds and joyless spirits. Most days we struggle so hard just to keep our head above water.
In John 15 Jesus explains a profound truth about growing:

^"Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing......As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love."

     Whoa, did you catch that? Jesus' command that explains the only way we can grow. One simple word. ABIDE. 

      I know, I know, you're already a great Christian like me so you've heard this one before. You're thinking, "I try to read my Bible and pray everyday so I can abide in Him." No, you're not listening. Frankly, neither was I. Until just recently, I didn't get it either. I knew I had to stay close to God, I knew I had to be a good mom, good wife, good everything. I knew I had to love everybody and I was trying my best until I completely fell apart and the darkness had a hard grasp around my throat.

     What I didn't realize all along is that I was living my life in fear. Fear of wasting my potential, fear of not being good enough for God, fear of not bearing enough fruit. I wanted so desperately to make Him proud and to be the best I could be, but I totally missed the profound truth about growing. And the profound truth about growing is this: It's something I am completely incapable of doing.

     Now hear me out. When you look at a grape vine and it's growing huge, beautiful clusters of grapes, you never think to yourself, "Good job branch. What a great branch." No, the thought would never cross your mind. What you think about is how perfectly the vine has been planted, propped up and pruned. How skillful and knowledgeable the vineyard master must be. How much care and attention He has put into helping and protecting this beautiful plant. Are you starting to see my point?

     I believe what Jesus means when he uses the word "abide" is trust, rest, hold to, accept. We, as humans, usually want the easy way through life. Just like water, our nature is to take the path of least resistance. Ironically enough, we find it easier to strive for, work out and control our own growth and obedience. The much harder thing is always surrender and trust. To truly, and fully trust is the hardest thing God calls us to do and the only thing God calls us to do. When we trust, rest, hold to, accept and ABIDE in His love, that's when we grow, that's when we love, that's when we obey His commands.

     This mystery of letting go and holding on is something that I am just now beginning to understand in all it's beauty and contradiction. We stop trying to do good so we can truly do good. We stop striving to grow so we can bear much fruit. In order to truly love we must focus on the unimaginable depth of how much we are loved. 

     Like Peter stepping out of the boat, the temptation is always to stop trusting and get back in our own heads. Whoa, wait, look at those waves! Oh no, I'm sinking!

     As I sunk deeper and deeper into my self-righteousness it turned into self-doubt and I begin to feel the darkness growing darker around me. Lost. Hopeless. Defeated. All my striving and working and good deeds hadn't gotten me any closer to joy, contentment or peace. I felt alone and confused. 
I tried my best to do everything you wanted God, why don't I feel peace?
I tried my best to be who you wanted me to be God, why don't I feel happy?
I tried my best to create a life that you would like God, why don't I feel content?

     Our life vest of good deeds and honest intentions can never keep us afloat. Eventually, we will sink under life's worries, pains, and trails. The beautiful ending to this story is that this is not the end of the story. God never gives up on us when we're His. He never stopped reaching for me or reminding me of His unfathomable love for me. Sometimes the hard things are the things we need to go through to remind us to look up.

     So here I am, looking up. Once again reminded of how much I need Him. Here I am dumbfounded at the magnitude of His acceptance and love for me. I hear Jesus saying, "You are already clean." 

     Will I ever get caught up again in taking the self-righteous path of least resistance? Probably. But right now I'm trusting, resting, and abiding in His unconditional love and acceptance.

     As I look up from the waves and grab Jesus' hand, I can feel His love rush through me and fill me with life. 
And I know I'm growing by the minute.  
I can already feel a new bud springing out.

 

Mom-life crisis, a letter to myself

They just don't really prepare us for anything, do they. And by they I think I mean the generation that came before us. Or I could mean a more general sense of the word "they," as in humanity or our modern society. It doesn't really matter, that's besides the point. The point is, we are just not prepared to navigate the challenges of adulthood.

Enter in a midlife crisis.

I had no idea what I was feeling at first. A little bit of excitement, followed by restlessness and anxiousness. Then throw in sadness, depression, fear, and the feeling that you've gotta make a big change or just run away and start all over, and you might be getting close to describing a midlife crisis.

But for me it is so much more than a midlife crisis. It's a mom-life crisis.

For the past 15 years I have dedicated my life to raising, nurturing, educating, and discipling my kids. A full-time stay-at-home mom doesn't even feel like an accurate description. We have moved to different states, different countries, lost family members, changed jobs, overcome challenges, served in different churches and had many deeply meaningful relationships along the way. It's been a wonderful, painful, and beautiful adventure.

I talk as if my life is coming to an end.

I wonder if a caterpillar thinks about his life thus far as he spins himself into what he may believe is a coffin. I wonder if he's afraid that this is the end when he glues his cocoon shut. Or maybe he knows instinctively that something amazing and brand new is starting.

I feel like my life as a caterpillar is coming to an end, but I just don't know how to be a butterfly. I've set myself aside for so long and I don't think I can learn how to fly at this age. My dreams, interests and individuality have gotten awfully dusty and rusty and I just don't know if they work anymore. Now that my kids are older and more independent I find I have all this time to ask myself "Who am I?" "What do I want to do?" "What kind of jobs or ministries would I enjoy and be gifted at?" These questions keep coming up unanswered and that terrifies me deeply.

I remember when I first really started contemplating those questions, I was about the age that my kids are now. They are actually starting to ask those questions also. And who are they asking? They're asking me! How am I supposed to help them figure out what God made them to be and do when I am still trying to figure that out for myself? Should I still be asking myself at 37 years old what I want to be when I grow up?

It's almost like teenage Karisia was put in cryogenic sleep and now 20 years later she is being woke up. She has no idea what is going on. Everything is different, everyone is different, and there are 5 people depending on her and she has to somehow find balance. All while still trying to navigate the complicated road of growing up and figuring out who she wants to be.

Deep breathe. We can do this Karisia.

Or maybe there's nothing that needs to be done. Maybe I am already who I am supposed to be. Maybe I'm just holding on too tight and the control that I am working so hard to exert over everything is the very thing that is ripping me apart. What if change and growth are less like a triathlon and more like a river. Just relax and go with the flow. Enjoy the adventure, take things as they come, and stay focused on Him.

Listen up teenage Karisia, I've learned a lot of things over the last 20 years, so hear me out. Life doesn't depend on who you think you are or need to be. Things are all quite a bit more simple than you imagine and God just wants you to trust Him and go with His flow. And no, we don't know where the river goes. And yes, that scares us so much. We can't see where it's heading, we don't get to carve out it's path. We don't like that at all because we have great ideas, wonderful plans, and we're pretty sure we've got most of life figured out.

But God doesn't want me to slow the boat down or paddle harder to get there faster. He just wants me to relax and enjoy the ride. Find joy in the scenery and peace in the flow. He's got it. It's His river. Yes it's wild, and yes the bugs bite sometimes, and of course you're going to get wet when you go through the rapids. Yeah, some nights are darker and longer than others and pain is real. But the sun always come back up, and the summer always warms you again, and life is so beautiful if you would just look up.

Karisia, you don't have to plan out your whole life. You didn't then and you don't now. I know it's hard to accept but plans change and hearts break and things get messy on this earth. Do you know the question you need to be asking yourself? It's, "Who does God want me to be TODAY."

And I know you're really going to have a hard time believing this, but you're already pretty amazing. God makes pretty amazing things. All that ugly self-doubt and striving to not be a waste is only keeping your wings wet. You are already more than you give yourself credit for and those wings, oh look at those wings God gave you. They are BEAUTIFUL.

So fly baby, fly. Let God carry you up to new heights. Far above the darkness and doubt. He has brand new butterfly adventures for you, and as scary as that sounds, trust Him, it's going to be good.

Remembering dad

Today marks one year of missing my dad.

I've heard that it would be hard. I knew that it would be hard. Still, it has been so much harder then I could have anticipated.

For the last couple of weeks I have been reliving that desperately tragic afternoon when my father left us. I remember going to the hospital and believing that everything was going to be o.k. I remember sitting in a room and hearing the surreal sound of the doctor explaining that they did everything they could. I remember weeping with my mother whose whole world had just come crashing down on her. I remember sobbing with children on my living room floor after I shared the news that they would spend the rest of their earthly lives without their beloved grandfather.

It feels like a piece of who I am is missing and sometimes it hurts to remember.
Sometimes it hurts deep to remember.
But it's so much worse to forget.

The real tragedy would be to forget how much my father means to me. To forget everything he taught me about what truly matters in life. The deepest loss would be to go on living as if he wasn't still a part of who I am and who I want to be.

I felt a special connection to my dad's heart last night as I was listening to one of my new favorite songs in my car, "Only Jesus." I don't think he ever got a chance to hear it but I know he would have loved it. The second verse of the song goes like this:

"All the kingdoms built, all the trophies won
Will crumble into dust when it’s said and done
‘Cause all that really matters
Did I live the truth to the ones I love
Was my life the proof that there is only One
Whose name will last forever"
 
Yes daddy. You did. It was.
In both small and practical ways, and real and meaningful ways, you taught me truth and showed me Jesus through your life. Everyday I want to make you proud. Everyday I'm trying to follow in the footsteps that you and mom left for me. I will never let go of the faith and love for our Savior that you both passed on to me. A sacred baton that I will someday entrust to my children as well.

I love you and miss you so much papa.

Until we meet again, I will always remember.
Always.

The longest Winter

   When we moved to this house 5 years ago I had no idea that this home and farm I shared with my parents would provide me with just a short chance to get to know my dad as an adult. I had no idea that these few, fleeting years would be all I was ever going to get this side of eternity.

It was my first time living near my parents since adulthood, I thought I would have so much more time with him.

   It was a cool and crisp day in October. A typical cloudy gray Autumn day in Michigan. As I arrived home with the kids from a long morning of activities, I saw that my dad was up to his usual business of fixing. My dad the tinkerer, always tinkering. I had no idea that that would be the last time I would ever see him here on this earth.

   I never even noticed them leave for the hospital. It was only after I looked at my phone that I realized my mom was taking dad in because of chest pain. Then another text comes through, “Dad started convulsing and passed out...I don't know what's going on....”

I rushed to the hospital to be with my mom. What's going? What is happening to my strong, invincible daddy? We sit. We wait. We talk about how he was feeling, what happened in the hospital. Chest pain, short breathing, clammy hands, blood coming out of his nose.

We keep sitting. We continue waiting. Anxious to see him, to see what the damage was, why this happened, how bad he was hurt, how much time the healing would take. They come and take us into a room. We're sure it must have been a heart attack, or stroke. Maybe he's hurt really bad, maybe the road to recovery would be long. The thought didn't even cross our minds...

   Then the words came out, as heavy as lead, “We did all we could but we couldn't bring him back. He passed away.”

I couldn't even swallow the words. I choked on them. No. What? No! What?! He's not gone, he couldn't be gone, NO!

As hard as I tried to reject the reality they were presenting, the weight of it overtook me and I broke. Wailing tears and sounds of agony filled the small room my mom, brother and I sat in. We cried and held each other and tried to make sense of the reality that we could hardly understand. A life without dad in it.

   The thing that no one really tells you about grief, pain and loss, is that it hits you so hard at first, like a freight train at the speed of sound. But then as the months go by the grief becomes septic, like an infection that travels through your body. Hitting one part of you at a time.

The pain of loss doesn't really go away over time, it just changes form. Sometimes its more of a sharp biting pain, and other times it is a faint gnawing in the deepest part of your soul.

When we loose a big piece of our lives, it effects every other part of our lives in ways we only realize as we travel down the road forward. They call it the road to healing, but even though the bleeding stops, the limb never grows back again.

   This would become the longest Winter of my life.

Where are you God? You feel so far away. Where are you joy? I can't remember what you look like.

Deep sadness crept in quietly, like the cold ground falls asleep under beds of snow. My heart became as numb as the lifeless frozen earth in the coldest months of Winter. I was fragile and fractured, like a snowflake that rests on frosty night's ground. Then misplaced anger pierces, and words cut deep and shatter me.

   The next few months would mark much more pain. Life turned upside down, then sideways, then upside down again. Everything was changing. My life fell apart, my family fell apart, my heart fell apart. Then the hard work began. The hard, hard work of rebuilding, starting over, letting go, moving on.
But I didn't want to keep going.
Life just felt like a sea of infinite gray.
Like an endless Winter. No sign of warmth. No hint of joyous life.

   That ancient snake sees when we set down our armor and don't want to fight anymore. That's when he whispers those evil little lies that are meant to fang deep into our souls with poison. Just a few drops here, and a few drops there, soon we are slipping away into the darkness.

   It's your fault. You're not good enough. You're not loved. You're not forgiven.

   One at a time we hear the lies and somewhere deep inside, the deepest, dark parts of us where we hide away our doubts, they start to sound true. Our poisoned hearts start to resonate the lies, “It is my fault, I'm not good enough, I'm not loved, I'm not forgiven.”

   Do you hear it? Listen closely. Those lies, like faint whispers in the wind. Always swirling, all the time. Then when someone or something screams it in our face we half believe it because it sounds so familiar. Yes, I know this message, it must be true, my mind recognizes it. Then we surrender to the doubt.

   But what if the most familiar things were the most ridiculous lies of them all? Life and death themselves are the lies we most believe in. That this life is all that there is, and that death is the end. But it is not!

   A beautiful God-man, named Truth came to show us the lies, because you don't know what the lies are until you know the Truth. And here's the best part, the truth will set you free from the lies. Because you don't know that it's not your fault until Someone explains that the fault is in all of us. And you won't understand that you don't have to be good enough until Someone shows you a love that is true and unconditional. And you'll never believe you are so loved and forgiven until Someone actually goes to Hell and back for you and pays the ultimate price to forgive you and prove their love for you.

   Lies don't disappear by telling them they're not true just like darkness doesn't disappear by telling it that it isn't real. Things only change when you turn the light on.

And as the Spring sunshine triggered the ground to burst forth in life, I open my eyes and remember that God's light of truth is the only thing that can banish the lies, the hurt and the pain from my beat down, bruised up, poisoned heart. His love is the only antivenom.

   I'm convinced that the bravest most courageous people aren't the ones who take big risks. They are the ones who have been torn apart, beaten down, and left for dead. The ones who face the reality of that hurt and still hold on to hope. The ones who get back up, having felt the pain, and keep going in spite of the risk of experiencing that pain again.

   Lord help me to be courageous as I continue to walk through this life journey to you. I know that loss and pain are both behind me and ahead of me but I face that reality with dignity and hope, knowing that your plans for me are good, and you will always hold my heart. You'll never leave me and you will always keep the light of truth on so I can always find my way back to You.

Memorial to my father

On October 30th, 2017, Jesus called my dad up to Heaven. I know he wouldn't have wanted me to mourn his passing for very long. He knew where he was going and he looked forward to it but I can't help but miss my crazy, stubborn, loving daddy.

He would do anything for anyone who needed him. His humble servant way of life taught me what a Godly man looks like.

He didn't say “I love you” with words very often, but he always said it with his actions. Like sometimes working two jobs just to provide for his wife so she could be home to raise us 5 kids. Like making family traditions out of church and New York pizza. Like helping us buy houses, welcoming new babies, fixing our cars, and being there when we really needed him.

My dad was a bit of an oxymoron. Kind and harsh. Hard and soft. A mystery and an open book. Humble and proud. Generous and stingy. He certainly had many layers to him.

In spite of all the trauma he experienced early in his life, Efrain “Freddy” Rivera went on to become a great father and grandfather. Life will not be the same without him.

I will be eternally grateful for the solid foundation of truth that he helped me build my life on. In the end it was his commitment to Jesus, his marriage, and his family that defined him. He left behind a legacy of faith on this earth that will live on for generations to come.

I love you daddy. Can't wait to see you again.

I wanna go back

   Matthew 11:25-30 At that time Jesus declared, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

   "Heavy laden" or "burdened" in the original Greek literally means to be "loaded up." Oh baby am I feeling loaded up right now. Loaded up with worries. Loaded up with responsibilities. Loaded up with emotions. Loaded up with doubts.

   In the beginning of this passage Jesus says that God has revealed some deep, spiritual truths to children, the simple and unlearned, rather than to the wise. At first it seems strange that in this very same passage He talks of burdens. Children have no burdens, they are simple and free. They except things they cannot understand and believe things just because you told them so.

   We are the ones with burdens. We are the ones with past regrets, present responsibilities, and future worries. We are the ones who labor, day after day. As a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom, that labor never seems to end. Dishes are dirty hours after you've cleaned them. Lather, rinse, repeat. Meals are required again, and again, and again. Laundry is on a constant conveyor belt coming at you, don't slack or it will bury you alive. Teach, correct, instruct, discipline, listen, comfort, love...then go to bed and start all over again tomorrow.

   I have to take care of myself too. I have needs, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. So does my husband. All these things put on one after another amount to a pretty "loaded up" mama, and I began to doubt. The enemy whispers subtle, little lies into my ears at my weakest moments. I began to doubt myself. To doubt my life choices. To doubt God.
Sigh. I wanna go back.

   In Jeremiah 2:2 God says "I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride, how you followed me in the wilderness, in a land not sown." I wanna go back to when I was young and simple and full of hope. When I was so in love with Jesus that I would follow Him into a "land not sown." I wanna go back to a time when my heart was on fire for Him and just being in His arms was all that mattered. Like the song by David Dunn says:
"I wanna go back
To Jesus loves me this I know
For the Bible tells me
For the Bible tells me so
I wanna go back
To this little light
Gonna let it shine
Gonna let it shine
I wanna go back"

   Everything felt so real, and true, and noble...but after following God into this wilderness, I've grown tired and weary and "loaded up." Cue Jesus' closing statement. "Come to me...I will give you rest...take my yoke...learn from me...I am gentle and lowly in heart..." The first thing to do when one is feeling overwhelmed by life? When one has lost sight of the simplicity of faith, the joy of hope, and the innocence of love? Come. Just come to Him. Such an easy thing, even a dog can do it. "Come here Fido!" And there he is, at your feet. Our dogs know they need us. They know it intrinsically. Why are we so stubborn?

   Somewhere along the way of life I started believing that I could go it alone. Solo lobo, lone wolf. I know I never said it out loud, but at some point, somewhere between the shattered dreams and the unmet expectations, I started believing that in certain areas of life I was on my own. That it was up to me to "fix it" or hold it together. Because I'm an adult.

   My children never feel that. They always know that when things get scary, or hard, or they get hurt, they're not alone. When up against something that feels overwhelming to them they know who to call, and it ain't the Ghost Busters. You moms know what I'm talking about. "MOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!"

   If I had a nickle...

   My kids come immediately to me when they need help. I could be in the shower, hiding in my room, or in China. THEY WILL FIND ME. Do I come to Jesus with such desperation when I am "heavy laden?" No way, I'm an "adult," too wise, too self-sufficient, too independent. At least that's how I keep living. But I need Jesus. I need so much of Jesus. I need every bit of Jesus I can get.

   "Come," "take" and "learn" are the things Jesus tells us to do when we are "loaded up." Three very passive and easy things to do. Things that children are good at. Things that I used to be good at. But in the midst of going, and giving and teaching, it seems that I've forgotten to come, and take and learn from Jesus. He is gentle, kind, and humble. He wants me to come to Him and be in love with Him. He wants me to take His peace, comfort, freedom, and joy. He wants me to learn how to live in grace, and be kind, and stay humble through it all.

   Jesus wants to help me unload my burdens, not by taking them upon Himself, but by reminding me what is real, and true, and noble again. He wants to help me go back to "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so." Because faith is simple, and love is simple, and we're the messed up, stressed out, overloaded adults who make it so complicated.

   Oh Jesus, I am coming to you, I am running to you. I am "loaded up" with so many things that aren't necessary. I am taking your yoke of freedom. I want to learn to be more like you. I love you so much. Hold me in your arms every morning and every night. Give me your Spirit, fresh and new, so I can live in this land I have followed you to. Bring me back to the simplistic devotion of my youth and the "new bride" love I had for you.
I wanna go back.

When temptation comes calling

   Temptation. That taboo word that no good Christian person wants to admit they have ever felt. Temptation takes on many forms; greed, lust, envy, gluttony, doubt and even discouragement. The Bible tells us that temptation is common (1 Cor. 10:13) and inevitable (Matt. 18:7.) It even describes a time when Jesus was tempted in Matthew chapter 4. Still think you're above temptation?

   At the heart of temptation, the true beast that it is, is not a game of "Don't you want this?" but rather a deeper stirring of discontentment with what you have and who you are. The word 'discontentment' doesn't sound nearly as dirty as 'temptation,' but indeed they are conjoined twins of evil. Most of us will freely admit we've been discontent at times, and for those of you who won't admit it, well, just admit it.

   I know at this point you're probably wondering why I seem to be trying to make you feel more and more uncomfortable. Sorry, just stay with me and we'll figure this out together. O.k, I need to talk about Bizarro for a minute. If you're not a "berd" like me (beautiful nerd, haha) give me a second to tell you about Bizarro. Bizarro is Superman's exact opposite, his mirror-image. Superman is good, Bizarro is bad. Superman is kind, Bizarro is cruel. Superman is brave, Bizarro is a coward. You get it. My point is this: temptation is merely the bizarro version of contentment.

   Temptation says you need this thing, contentment says you have all you need. Temptation entices you to be unsatisfied with the way things are, contentment encourages you to keep following the path God has you on and assures you that things will work out. Temptation tries to discourage you and make you doubt, contentment believes, hopes and trusts. Temptation says you're missing out, contentment says you've hit the bulls-eye. Temptation reminds you of things you once had, contentment reminds you of all the things He has in store for you.

   O.k, I'm about to get real with you. I feel tempted. Yup, I am freely admitting it in a public place. Bizarro is calling me. The shadows of discontentment are hovering over me and waves of discouragement are beating against my shore. I feel the cold, bitter breeze of doubt giving me goosebumps of confusion. Why am I telling you all of this? Because I know you've been there. Maybe you're there right now.

   The occasional whispers of, "You could be happier," and "Something else would be more exciting," can sometime grow to an echoing roar. When you wake up and think, "Not another day of this," guess what? You're being tempted. When the good choices you've made and the righteous paths you chose aren't quite working out the way you had imagined, and your joy is missing and you're not sure why you don't "feel" they way you think you should. Guess what? You're being tempted.

   Tempted to miss the beauty and joy in today. Tempted to trade thankfulness for emptiness. Tempted to forget who you are, why you're here and why you're doing what you're doing. Tempted to loose sight of the passion that was once in your heart. Tempted to fall out of love with you're Savior, your bridegroom, you're best friend. JUST BREATHE.

   W.W.J.D.? He would answer the tempter with words from the Holy Scriptures. Tell that dirty, lying thief that "People do not live on bread alone but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.^" Tell him that there is so much more to life than what we see with our own two eyes and God will always take care of us. We can trust our God. Tell him that ^"You must not test the Lord your God." Tell him that we refuse to doubt our God and give into discouragement. We can trust our God! Tell the stealer of joy that "We must worship the Lord our God and serve only him." Tell him that we know Who is in control, Who measured the waters of the world in His hands, He walks with us through this life and He will fill our cup until it is overflowing! WE CAN TRUST OUR GOD!!!

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd;
    I have all that I need. 

He lets me rest in green meadows;
    he leads me beside peaceful streams. 

     He renews my strength.
He guides me along right paths,
    bringing honor to his name.

Even when I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will not be afraid,
    for you are close beside me.
Your rod and your staff
    protect and comfort me.

You prepare a feast for me
    in the presence of my enemies.
You honor me by anointing my head with oil.
    My cup overflows with blessings.

Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
    all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
    forever.

Living in Realville

   Sometimes my dad talks about a place. A place called "Realville." I guess you'll never see it in movies, or experience it in video games. I don't think you can even find it on Facebook. It's a place that's not glamorous or epic, and frankly it's mostly unexciting. It's, well, it's reality. It's the everyday, tiny little moments, responsibilities and things that make up existence. My dad says we've got to live here, in Realville that is.

   The problem is, nobody wants to live there anymore. Honestly, it's just plain boring. When compared to all the exciting games, movies, music, and media we all have at our fingertips, well, we've just come to have a distaste for all that is, ordinary. Really, why settle for doing the dishes when you can conquer the know universe. Who would want to play outside with sticks when they can watch crazy characters get into all kinds of trouble instead? Why change a diaper when you can change your status update? We can get much more affirmation from our Facebook friends than we can from our family. We can take vacations from Realville in many different ways. Stick your nose in books all day, fantasize about that guy/girl at work, or school, or (gasp) church. "Dream" about all that you could do, or will do, or want to do. Find a special place deep in your mind, and hang out there.

   Not all of these things are bad, or evil. Some of them can even be educational and enriching. Isn't it o.k. to get away from reality every once in a while? Sometimes life gets too heavy, or hard, or......boring. I know, living in Realville isn't easy. Living in Realville is hard, but you know what? God lives in Realville. He lives in the moments and the faces and the little everyday tasks that make up Realville. When we run from it, we're not just running from the hard things, or the mundane things, or the things that don't turn out the way we had imagined they would. When we're dissatisfied with living in Realville, we have become dissatisfied with God.

   Whatever my day looks like, whatever un-amazing thing I need handle, whatever people I will SEE and whoever depends on me, that's what needs the weight of my full, undivided attention. Knowing my limitations, understanding my responsibilities, and believing in a God whose grace will always be sufficient for every, single moment. That's living in Realville. That's YOLO at it's best. Because each moment, yeah, YOU. ONLY. LIVE. ONCE.

   So I vow to to be here, to LIVE here, in Realville. Every, single day. Even the hard ones. Even, :::GULP:::, the boring ones. I vow to limit my media, to log out of Facebook, and to never join Pinterest (because it is pure evil lol) I don't want all the distractions to make my heart unable to recognize the adventure that this life is, and the awesomeness and goodness of God right here, right now, in Realville. Will you join me? Will you roll up your sleeves and get to work on all the good things God has given you to do? Will you live with me, embracing every mundane and minute detail of each chapter of our story? Let's choose to open our eyes and see, truly see, God's redeeming love in this broken place, in this crazy town called Realville.


   CHALLENGE! I'm creating a "NO MEDIA NOVEMBER" challenge to all my Facebook friends. Check it out here: https://www.facebook.com/events/1548364688716786/

  

Moms make it better

   It was 4:45am, not a good time of the day for me. I held my petite 22-month-old in my arms trying to convince her to go back sleep.....so I could go back to sleep. It's not easy facing the morning with a not-so-full night's sleep. Especially when there will be four children with breakfast demands and issues with kindness and consideration.

   My back hurt. Viktoria is no longer an infant, and holding her close while hovering over her bed was not the most comfortable position I could imagine. In my mind I was begging, "Please stop resisting and give in my sweet little girl." I began to sing a lullaby. I held her close and pressed her cheek to mine as we rocked and sang, "Rock-a-bye Baby." She was still and calm and at the end of the song she turned her face and gave me the sweetest and most sincere kiss I have ever received from her. She reached for her bottle (a sign of surrender to night-night time) and I laid her down and went back to bed.

   As I laid in bed trying to get back to sleep, I thought to myself. "Moms make it all better." And we do because we have super powers. Super powers given to us by God Himself. We have super kisses that can make boo-boos feel better and make husbands feel loved. We have super hugs that comfort broken hearts and give courage to fearful minds. We have Super voices that can calm babies and put toddlers to sleep. We are super-moms and we didn't even know it. :-)

   There is a reason that I still want my mom when I'm hurt, lonely, sick, scared or just plain sad. It's because moms make it better. They chase away the boogie man when you're afraid of the dark. They pray with you in bed and tuck you in so you feel safe. Moms nurse you back to health when you're feeling ill. They teach you how to treat others and help you become the person God created you to be. Moms who love Jesus make the whole world better.

   Thank you for all you do to make this world a better place by raising good people to follow God's calling in the next generation. Thank you for the late nights and early mornings. The perseverance when it took all you had just to get through the day. Thank you for the little sacrifices that no one notices and the tears that no one ever saw. Thank you for the pain you endured and the patience you're still learning and the love that you show unconditionally. Thank you for the hard lessons, the fun lessons and the mistakes you made along the way. Thank you for your strength and faith as you watched your little birdies take flight and leave the nest.

   YOU mama, you make it better. You make the whole world better.

Happy Mother's Day

When you run dry

   Feeling bad when there's no reason to feel bad. That's what I do best. As if I have any real hardships in my life, as if I have anything that is not going well for me. I know what to do when I am in a storm. Look up, trust God, count my blessings, keep fighting the good fight of faith. But what do I do when the storm is in me? My head is to heavy to look up, I am trusting God but don't feel Him near, I see how blessed I am and yet have no fight left in me. What does a good Jesus follower do when they find that they have run dry?

   Or course I know the answer. Go to the well. Drink fully of the Living Water that never runs dry. Surely I see my life like David in Psalm 23:5, "...my cup overflows." But I feel so tiredly rabid. I raise the cup of thanksgiving to my lips and I am unable to swallow. I know I am surrounded by God's life-giving love but am unable to breathe it in. My imperfect lungs struggle to accept the perfection of His grace. My shallow and unworthy throat can not take in His beautiful mercy. I am not good enough to deserve it.

   "No, you are not." a voice whispers to my soul. My pride nearly breaks in two. But haven't I done so much good? Haven't I always followed His calling in life? Certainly I have done so much more than so many others. I have never strayed from the narrow and winding road, even when it got so thorny and painful. I deserve His love so much more than the people I see around me, don't I? Where is my reward for all the sacrifices I have made?

   My self-righteousness continues to give me dry mouth. I fall to the ground, unable to breathe, and I just lay there waiting to die. What's the point? If I am the same as them, then why try? "How can you love those disgusting sinners the same as me!?" I choke on the words as they force themselves up out of my dry throat.

   As I close my eyes, I hear the voice whisper again to me. But this time there are no words. Just the heaviness of a wisdom that I cannot understand. I begin to feel smaller and smaller. What am I but a bit of sand on the unending beach of history? When did I become so important that I should question God's love and mercy to those who don't notice it? When did I become so shallow that I could hate someone just because they were lost?

   I gasp for air, like a newborn baby taking his first breath. It is hard and it is humiliating. As I struggle to rise I feel hand, strong and loving, help me to my feet. I cannot look into His eyes, but I feel His loving gaze deep into my soul. "I am sorry." I whisper, but His forgiveness is already felt. "Teach me please." I beg, "Teach me how to love them. Help me put away my pride and show me how you see them." He holds me up and brings a cup to my lips. Slowly I drink in His love.

   I feel different. I feel soft, kind, generous and caring. My eyes light up as my Father speaks to my heart, "My child, you do not deserve my love. Your deeds cannot earn it, your faith cannot merit it. It is a gift I give to you, and you need only to accept it." Tears stream down my face. I need only accept it, but why have I not been? My pride was a mask for my failures, my self-righteousness was a cover for my self-loathing. I needed to let it go. I needed to let myself go.

   I am nothing special, nothing amazing, but I have access to the most amazing love ever. All I need to do is accept it and drink it in. As I take another sip I realize that my job is not to prove God's love, to force people to drink it, not to fix their lives, but only to share it. To share God's love by loving them. Lord help me to see past the failures, including mine, and to drink of and share the beautiful gift of your unending love.