I'm learning to be still. It's awful hard to be still in this loud and crazy world that's always turning. Now, I don't mean that I'm just laying around on the couch all day long. (Though, somedays, I think it's perfectly acceptable to do that...like when you're nine months pregnant or just plumb tired.) But, I'm learning to be still on the inside. To shush my anxious busy thoughts by tuning into the voice of my Good Shepherd. The God who leads me beside quiet waters, if I'll but follow Him.Sometimes being still means noticing that one fuzzy white moth on the window while I'm at the sink, scrubbing up the pots and pans. And knowing that there's a God who made the moth and He wanted me to see it. And sometimes being still means I do just sit a spell and watch my kids, with my toes in the sa[...]

Today had a lot of good in it, but there was a lot of hard, too. The waking up, knowing that there would be dishes to clean and loads of laundry to wash, and bins of clothes to sort, and a kitchen floor that desperately needed swept. I felt like I was wading through cereal crumbs and dried up mac-n-cheese and broken crayons and lost pieces of art. When you walk around hearing crunching noises, you hope to goodness that nobody pops in for a surprise visit. You just gotta set your nose to the grindstone and get crackin', Jackin. So, I made my mental list of all the need-to-dos and told myself that I should keep trying to teach Gideon to read today, and that I should potty-train Hope, like for real this time, and before I knew it, I was over the stove, scrubbing gunk off the burners, wonderin[...]

Lord, You see. You know how I've got a mess on my hands again. Seems these years are the wrecky years. The ones in which I try awful hard to scrub the grime, to pick up the piles, to sort through the stuff and to bring order back from chaos. It's hard, though. Seems pointless. 'Cause the next day, here I'll be, doing it all over again.But, I can hear You, Lord. I hear You say You're present with me. Right in the middle of the muddled up mess. Neither a wrecky heart nor a wrecky house, frighten You away. Instead, You work with me to restore Shalom. That deepest, wholest peace. And I read how Your world was once right and good but sin entered in and wrecked up the place. And how, one day, Your Kingdom will come and there won't be any more of that blasted law of entropy--all things always fal[...]

I step outside to a fall breeze and walk the long yard through leaves, some gold, some brown, to gather green tomatoes from my garden. And I heap them up in a tin pale with a wooden handle, 'cause there's something that makes me feel a bit like a pioneer woman when I've got my tin pale with it's wooden handle. I'm barefoot and glad that it's still a smidgen warm and I can do this.  The day's been peaceful. Because last night before we fell asleep, Brent and I prayed together and asked God to help us with our lives. And I'd confessed how I'd been on the internet too much again. That lap-top seemingly attached at the hip and it's got this grip on me that I don't like. And if Jesus is the greatest treasure, then I simply wanted more of Him. And this morning, soon as my eyelids fluttered[...]

Some days, fear has this grip on me. Anxiety and worry take its toll and I find it hard to breathe. I can feel it in my skin, literally. Every once in a while, I get the shingles. Shingles isn’t just for old folks, apparently. Shingles can happen to worry warts, too. But, I’m a child of God. A little girl who belongs to a Great King. A Great King who never worries about a thing because He’s the biggest and the strongest. And I’ve got these promises. “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” (Deut. 33:27) “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble…The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.” (Psalm 46:1,7)So, I run to my Refuge and I hide in my Strong Tower and I just sit still and remember what I’ve got in Him. I[...]

Sometimes I get afraid of life. I can't explain all the reasons why, but I just kinda go through these spurts or seasons when I'm more prone to be fearful of things and my heart feels fragile and I have a hard time roping my imagination in.And it's strange because it's something that happens on the inside of me and I'm finding that it has nothing to do with what's going on, on the outside of me. Like, today for instance. Today is the most lovely, breezy, warm, full-of-light kind of day. And there's nothing in my life to be afraid of. At least nothing that I can see. But, for whatever reason, I have a lot of what-ifs running through my head, and before I know it, I'm plumb sceered! Scared of the world. Scared for my kids. Scared of what could happen in my life. Just scared. And I don't like[...]

I read in morning light these ancient words. That because I have believed in Him, believed in His Name, that He gave me the right to become a child of God. And that I'm born, born of Him eternal. (John 1:12-13)I do feel new again.Then, I remember more of those old words, that I am in Christ. (1 Corinthians 1:30) And today I have a new picture of what that means. Because I feel the ache. Like never before I feel it, wanting to be wrapped up in the womb of God. You know, spiritually speaking. Completely covered in His amniotic love. To swim around in it. To be nurtured by it. Wholly sustained. And isn't a womb a safe place? Or shouldn't it be? But, I had heard that safety in this world is not a place, but a Person. Surely the womb of God is the safest. Him protecting from everything wicked a[...]

Some days I feel kinda fragile inside. My emotions don't obey me and they do such strange things and I feel scattered and scared. There's these times when I really want to be strong and unwavering, but I just feel so weak. Like, I need an anchor or something solid for my soul. I need a refuge. Somewhere to run and rest a while.And I feel hungry. And I don't mean the physical kind of hunger, but the deep inside kind. I need some soul nourishment, something substantial, something my spirit can chew on that'll make me strong again.I read that I was made this way. All of us made with that ache. That need for filling. A Someone who is kind enough to care and strong enough to save. A Refuge. A Rock. A Nourisher of soul-hunger.So, when I'm scared I run. Fragile-hearted, I flee. Right for the Re[...]

She dances. Her so small and yet somehow she knows how to sway to rhythm. I could say that I taught her but I never showed her that move. She tilts and twirls and smiles and whirls. She dances because her joy wells and though she's little, she's unafraid. I could live like that. Light steps. A twirl here. A spin now and then. A wide happy grin. This knowing—that though I’m small and not in charge, I’ve got a Heavenly Father who holds all things together. This whole wide world. And me. And He is kind and He is good.  And this world He is redeeming--it’s why He sent His Son. So we could dance. Our whole life swaying, twirling, spinning, to the rhythm of His grace.