Cozy

The whole world is bracing for the storm of the century. I read an NPR...

Hold it right there. I have a question, concerning the use of "a" and "an." I was a good little 3rd grader; I learned that "a" goes before a consonant and "an" goes before a vowel, but what about when you are writing letters, such an "NPR" or "LOL" or "AYKM" (AreYouKiddingMe was very present in our recent holiday celebrations, thanks to my ever-articulate sister-in-law Dorothy)? "NPR" sounds like it begins with a vowel, so it seems like sacrilege to leave a naked "a" in front of it. Oh help. Sister-in-law Dorothy would probably advise me to consult Grammar Girl on the subject. If reading Grammar Girl could make my vocabulary as effervescent as Dorothy's, I would read it all day long, but alas, I fear that it is a gift straight from heaven. I digress.

So I was reading an article on NPR (haha, outsmarted it!) about the fear of the storm, and called down to Amy from snug in my bed:

"Amy, they are really saying we should get ready for the storm! Do we need to do anything?"

A fascinating conversation followed about whether we have enough matches and why our water heater will work but our furnace won't, should our electricity go out. I doubt, but Amy's usually right, so I submit.

Oh please, let our electricity be preserved.

Amy suggested we pull a "Bear Grylls" by making a fire. I introduced her to Man vs. Wild yesterday via Netflix, and I think she's hooked.

Speaking of Netflix, with two weeks of laying in bed and laying on the couch and laying in the chair in front of the fire looming before me, I signed up for the free trial of Netflix. One of the great triumphs in my search of the Netflix vaults was finding that Man vs. Wild is indeed available for viewing. WIN! Watch out, though. Any mention of a movie, and I go to look it up on Netflix. "The Way Back" which a random facebook friend referenced last night, is not able to be watched instantly. I have no idea what that movie's about, and I probably won't ever find out now.

To sum up this post, I will say: there is one thing that a blizzard does not adversely affect, nay perhaps even enhances. That one thing is bedrest. Selah.

Returns

I thought about doing a return post full of bullet points and "What Has Happened Since My Last Blog," but that would be extremely unartsy and unfeeling, wouldn't you say? Onward and upward.

It's no secret that Christina stays up later than I do, so her texts have been coming when my slumber restricts me from answering.

psst...you haven't blogged since September.

Dear God, thank you for text messages. Christina and her late night adventures recently followed the call of the Lord to the East Coast. I miss her, but one of the things I have learned in my short life is that when the Lord says to go, it is always worth it to follow. I am honestly so excited for her to experience the fruit and joy of obedience in this time. Go, Christina, go. :) :)

In other news, I'm sorry to announce that I find myself fully qualified to advise you and what to do and what not to do if you should ever (and I hope that you don't) find yourself to have mononucleosis.

DO take time off work. Today I am laying in bed, taking a full sick day for the first time since my diagnosis 6 weeks ago and I should have done this a long time ago.

DO sleep. Obviously.

If you're bored of just laying around, DO listen to a sermon. It's perfect, because you can lay there with your eyes closed, but you don't feel like you're wasting your time should you not be able to fall asleep. An added bonus is that you don't need your eyes. What I mean is, I wear glasses. I want to lie down, because my muscles are tired. Everyone knows that if you lie down with glasses on, the glasses smush into your face, and relaxation is a difficult thing to accomplish when one has something smushing into one's face. If I do something (i.e. listen to a sermon) that let's me lie down AND doesn't require my eyesight, it's a win.

DO have hope. You won't always feel this way.

Just Believe, Part 2.

My brother, in my opinion, is all kinds of awesome. An electrical engineer, a helicopter pilot, a bold evangelist, an amazing father, and a singer-songwriter. Some of my sweetest memories as a little girl are of how Sam would come home at holidays and the house would be filled with music, him and his guitar singing. I treated him like a jukebox sometimes, putting in my requests for songs. Topping the list? Garth Brooks' "Belleau Wood" and Sam's very own "Just 'Cause He said So."

And we have faith that He'll never forsake us, just 'cause He said so
And we have hope that He'll take us home, just 'cause He said so
And we know that our very souls are loved, just 'cause He said so
And we know that someday pain will be no more, just 'cause He said so
And I believe it's true, just 'cause He said so

He said it, and that's enough for me. It's a child's faith that counts on a Father's honesty and on Daddy doing what child can't. I want to believe just because He said so.

You and I, we are weak human beings. We can't do it. We can't do it, folks! We want to change the world, but we have no power. (But boy oh boy, do we think we do. Pride is nastier than strep throat. On a side note, Jesus heal me!) We may be weak, but those weak folks are the ones God uses. All the glory is His!

So see...the way it works is: We have nothing. He wants to use us. We believe Him. He puts His power in us.

What I see in that passage from Mark is a declaration from Peter to Jesus: "I really believe You. I've decided: You are who You say You are, and I really believe You." Then, then, Jesus had an open door to start telling Peter and the rest of the motley crew the reality of what redemption would look like. Notice that word "plainly." I want to hear from God that way! I want the invitation of belief in my heart that says: "Tell me anything, Jesus...I want to know and I believe what You say."

See, Peter still had some struggles [like me]. Jesus had to set him straight and boil it down: "STOP thinking like man. Believe the things of God." Then, then, came the answer to Peter's (and our) question of how to give everything for Jesus. Friends, I want to give everything. I want to believe, I want to trust, I want to live totally and completely for Jesus, I want to hold nothing back. I want to spend everything. "Take up your cross and follow me" is the handbook for that style of living, and I want the heart of belief that welcomes the teaching of the Lord on this. I want the seal of approval from the Lord that says "I see Your heart and that You really want me, and I am going to teach You how to give it all."

Belief, trust, faith...as faith is cultivated in your heart, God has a larger and larger blank canvas to work with. Seeing as my desire it be painted by the Great Artist's hand, I want to offer as big a canvas to Him as I can. There needs to be lots of room for His signature in that corner, because it's all about Him.

I want to walk with Him, like all those folks in Hebrews 11. There are moments, though, where I tell the Lord honestly: "I don't know how! I know I need to trust You more, but I don't knowhow!" Well, faith without works is dead, so I am asking the Lord for specifics of actions I can take to walk in faith and belief and trust. I don't have it, and I need more from the Lord. He gives, though. Oh, He gives generously.

I want to receive. He will walk with me and talk with me like He did with the disciples, and many, many great men and women of faith have walked before me. I pray that I will see the fruit of faith in my life, and if you ask, you will see it in yours. Oh that the glory of the Lord would shine from our lives.

Let me leave you with this quote from Oswald Chambers in his writings on the Sermon on the Mount:

Faith is our personal confidence in a Being whose character we know, but whose ways we cannot trace by common sense. By the reasonings of faith is meant the practical outworking in our lives of implicit, determined confidence in God. Common sense is mathematical; faith is not mathematical, faith works on illogical lines. Jesus Christ places the strongest emphasis on faith and especially on the faith that has been tried. To have faith tests us for all we are worth; we have to stand in the commonsense universe in the midst of things that conflict with our faith, and place our confidence in the God whose character is revealed in Jesus Christ...most of us are pagans in a crisis; we think and act like pagans. Only one out of a hundred is daring enough to bank his or her faith in the character of God.

The golden rule for understanding in spiritual matters is not intellect, but obedience.

Just Believe, Part 1

Abraham believed God, and it was accounted to Him as righteousness.

After going to bed quite late last night with battle wounds from a late night "Rolfball" game, I woke up at 5:40 to an invitation from the Lord, saying He wanted to tell me something. To be perfectly honest, I was tired. I laid there awake for a few minutes, until a specific Scripture dropped into my heart. The first time I pulled it out and read over it, I didn't get.

Mark 8:29-36

And he asked them, "But who do you say that I am?"

Peter answered him, "You are the Christ." And he strictly charged them to tell no one about him.

And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things...And he said this plainly.

And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and seeing his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man."

And he called to him the crowd with his disciples and said to them, "If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me...For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?"

Over the course of the day, this passage has steeped a bit in my heart like a good cup of tea, and I think I know a bit of what the Lord wanted to show.

A while ago I was praying for a friend of mine and the Lord showed a picture of multiple doors standing in front of her, with keys to unlock them. I asked the Lord what she needed to do to be able to unlock the doors and His answer surprised me that night and has surprised me almost every time I've thought of it since: Just believe Me. That's enough.

There is part of my heart that is still absolutely convinced that good Christians are equatable to chemical engineers. There must be an incredibly complex formula to pleasing God and doing His work, and to understand it I am obviously going to need a Master's Degree in being a Christian. "Just believe" sometimes just sounds too simplistic.

Enter Keith Green.

About mid-week last week, I was sitting in a undeniably funky funk. I had a feeling my own sin was the source of it, but was having trouble jumping over the "I'm a failure" hurdle into King David's "Man, I messed up but God sure loves me!" field.

My sister had to go into work for a few minutes, and after asking the Lord what I was supposed to do, I went with her for the sake of the piano. My sister's job is my only piano source at this point; there is a lovely grand that is open for me to play any time I am there. We walked in and I ran straight for the piano room. With little-to-no plan of what I was going to play, my eye caught the "Keith Green Ministry Years" music books and I dived for them. Over the next few minutes, I played that piano louder than I have in a long time and sang my heart out.

Create in me a clean heart, O God...Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation...I wanna die and let you give Your life to me so I might live...I want to take Your Word and shine it all around...When Your eyes are on this child, Your grace abounds to me...

The Holy Spirit did something, right there at that piano. I just sat and my heart felt as if it would burst from thankfulness for lives like Keith Green's and King David's. I take great encouragement from the fact that men who walked in power doing the Lord's calling on their life went through five million plus moments of "is it just me, or am I a complete and total failure?" and "I can't do this at all...it's got to be all You, God."

If you haven't heard Keith's music I highly recommend jumping onto Grooveshark.com and listening. (mash down HERE to go straight there). I read No Compromise a few weeks ago and it absolutely gripped me. I think I got through the whole thing in 2 or 3 days; I just could not shake the feeling that what God did in Keith's life is significant to understanding what He wants to do in mine. Maybe it was something about the fact that He was just some passionate kid who played the piano...that sounds familiar. :)

Before I read the book, I only listened to Keith's happy, upbeat, "Go Preach the Gospel!" songs. His heart-wrenchingly honest songs didn't catch my ear. Until, that is, I found myself in a desperate place where my pride had gotten cracked enough to say "Oh boy, this is going to have to be all God." Read the book, folks. I see Keith as someone who walked radically and boldly as who God made him to be and affected thousands upon millions of people because he obeyed, but he reminds me so much of David of the Psalms, because this radical man had struggles and had to repent and messed up and saw his own weakness.

Today, with the passage from Mark, these sorts of thoughts began to feel full-circle. (Bear with me, I know this is getting long! All this blogging's been pent up for months. ;)

Keith Green and King David, they were messed up.

BUT! They changed the world.

They believed God.

Belief. It's enough.

Part 2 tomorrow on how that Mark passage has anything to do with all of this and how setting your heart to believe is like sending heaven an invitation to invade your life.

Lub Dub

Laura and I grew up together. I wasn't allowed to have Barbies, but I was allowed to play with them, and Laura's house was where I did just that. Hours upon hours in her backyard pretending to be princesses; probably days worth of time hiding in her basement pretending we were fugitives. I remember Polly Pocket (the real kind...not that rubber doll they sell now), and Nintendo 64 (her dad would rent Mario Kart...always a fave). Music school together, bagels with cream cheese together (her mom made the best snacks). Hey, once we even made our own salad dressing!

This is all off topic. But sweet! Laura, I love you.

Laura, if you were to sit her down and interrogate her, could tell you easily how much we played doctor as little girls. "Lots" or "Too much" or "OHMYWORD Anna was obsessed" would probably be her answer. Let's just call Laura my first patient.

Now, I have real patients.

No, I'm not a doctor. No, I'm not a nurse. Lemme 'splain. No, lemme sum up.

The reason I moved back to Kansas City was to get my Nurse Assistant certification and work as a Medical Assistant to see if I want to keep going in a medical career.

The Lord has been good to me. (Oh, SO good!) I got the job at the practice I was hoping for, and today was my third day of training.

I am in love. I love wearing a stethoscope around my neck. I love learning fancy words for things. Tomorrow, I bet I will love pulling medicine into syringes (INJECTION CLASS...duh duh duh). I love (love love LOVE) listening to a baby's heart. I cannot even describe the preciousness of this tiny one, her chest smaller than my hand, rising and falling more quickly than I ever breathe. It was so absolutely and completely surreal to put a stethoscope in my ears, the other end on her chest, and listen to that piece of the Lord's artwork going strong inside.

When I moved to Tacoma, I was astounded at the way the Lord answered my prayers. I had long dreamed of living there, but had somewhat forgotten and stopped asking Jesus for it. Even when I had forgotten, He hadn't, and, quite literally, my dreams came true. That is how this feels. I gave up on my medical dreams, thought they would never fit with the Lord's calling on my life. Instead, here I am...walking in His will and doing what my heart dreamed of as a little girl.

Jesus knows us, and He doesn't forget. Thank you, Lord, for You have overwhelmed me with kindness yet again.

And thank you, Laura, for being my guinea pig. :)

The Small Things

My phone has a trick that, apparently, it thinks is quite funny. Sometimes I'll wake up two hours past when I was expecting to, only to find that trusty LG decided to turn off during the night. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he just took a mini vacation to Africa. I don't know...whatever it is, it makes me sleep in, which aggravates every bit of control in me.

Oh, did I say control? Oops.

This seemingly small and insignificant situation presses the huge red button marked "ANXIETY" for me. It's obviously something small, but sometimes I hardly sleep the night before something big happens. I mean, if I oversleep, the world might end! Or internally combust! Or externally explode! Who knows what could happen?!

This morning I woke up to a phone turned off. At first, the disappointment. Then, an interesting prompting: "You need to trust Me that I'm going to make your alarm go off in the morning."

Now, if I were to walk up to some random person on the street and said, "Excuse me, God just told me He wants you to trust Him to make your alarm go off in the morning," they would look at me like I was crazy and tell me to go home. But as we have already established, this line means something to me.

I understand I am supposed to trust the Lord for the job that I need. I understand I am supposed to trust Him to provide for the car I need. And the friends, and the money, and the husband, and the children, and so on and so forth. I'm not saying this trusting process is easy, but it's easy to at least answer "Well, I'm going to trust the Lord" when someone asks "How is that [huge, massive, life-changing thing] going to happen?"

This morning, it became about the small things. After the alarm fail, it was the invite to that wedding. Then it was getting to Olathe to get my tuberculosis test read. Then it was how to get to my job tonight on time. And so on and so forth.

The small things. That verse in Philippians about not being anxious? It says to not be anxious about anything. So I found myself in the car, the rain pouring down, the clock ticking, and I threw my hands in the air (then re-grabbed the steering wheel quick) and said "Okay, I trust You!"

I am absolutely and totally convinced that Jesus cares about the small things. We take His command to not worry about what we're going to eat and what we're going to wear as protection against starvation and homelessness, but when I read that verse I'm struck by the fact that food and clothes are our most basic needs. We put on clothes every day, we eat food every day. Jesus is intricately involved in our every day.

I want to spend my days putting everything into His hands. Every single little thing. It's not okay to separate my "big trust issues" from my "small life circumstances." It's all His. I want to refuse anxiety any small crevice in my heart. If I leave it the small places, how am I going to tell it to get out of the big places?

There is no room for anxiety in Jesus' heart, and there is no room for it in my days. The little things, they are His too. I'm talking practicals here, folks. That you will have time to eat lunch between your meetings. That if the printer isn't working, it's all going to be okay anyways. That if you have to pay for that TB test again, so what? It's the Lord's money anyways.

I have known for a while that Jesus is taking me through another trust intensive course. Honestly, I have been stumped. How do I trust? What does it look like? I know the words, but my heart wants to know the movements! Oh, HELP! I think this morning may have been a part of the key - refuse anxiety any place. Give worry no thought, no space. My inheritance is peace - about my time, about my money, about my phone calls, about my texts, about my calendar, about the cake I want to bake. PEACE. If there's not peace, something is wrong.

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way.

-2 Thessalonians 3:16

Let me close with some quotes from Practicing the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence. Walking with Jesus is an every day, every moment relationship. Don't put it in a box, let Him be part of everything.

Brother Lawrence pointed out that he spoke very simply and frankly to God. He asked for help with the things as he needed it, and his experience had been that God never failed to respond.

In the beginning, Brother Lawrence declared that a little effort was needed to form the habit of continuously conversing with God, telling Him everything that was happening. But after a little careful practice, God's love refreshed him, and it all became quite easy.

Nothing is too small.

BFS

This week, I became an employed human being. It really is a wonderful thing, you know, this working thing. I get to spend my days with a family I have long hailed as one of my favorites - the Bohlender tribe.

One of the things that I have come away with, after mornings of dancing with little girls and lunchtimes of sweeping, cleaning, feeding, and cleaning again is this tidbit of information:

One day, when I have seven to twelve children, I will have to make extremely large batches of macaroni and cheese if I ever hope to have any myself. There has been a running theme through lunchtimes the past couple days, and it has been that of the food I was about to put on a plate for myself instead getting eaten by another child showing up in the kitchen. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm happy that said child then has food satisfying their ravenous hunger, but at some point this girl's gotta eat.

It's something we who come from large families call "BFS." That's Big Family Syndrome, to those unacquainted with the acronym. It involves eating everything in sight very quickly, because chances are it will disappear into one of the mouths of the many other house dwellers in less than...oh look, it's gone.

Moral of the story: eat quick. And make lots of food. Nom.

Being Seen

A window, looking out on a sunny Paris day. A massive bed with a fluffy white comforter and 15 fluffy white pillows. Me, melting into said pillows.

I think I'm really tired and should just go upstairs to my own bed which will probably feel more wonderful than any Paris comforter.

***

This morning, I poured the coffee, sliced the strawberries, lit the candles, and cuddled under the blanket with the book of John.

I melted into tears at this:

Then Jesus said to him, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk." At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked...The man who was healed had no idea who it was, for Jesus had slipped away into the crowd that was there. Later Jesus found him at the temple and said to him, "See, you are well again..." John 5:8-9, 13-14

By 'melted into tears,' I mean that I was reading the story, got to the end of "Jesus found him at the temple," felt wet hot drops on my cheek and thought: "I'm crying! I'm crying? OH, JESUS!"

I hardly know how, I didn't even have time to think about the verse. It just hit my heart. He's not a miracle-machine. He really and truly cares. Jesus knew this man, He went and found him.

He went and found him.

I have no idea how I could ever write anything that would make those words more beautiful than they are.

He came and found me. He picked me up, brushed me off. He cares.

This afternoon, when I laid on the floor crying for reasons I hardly knew except that I miss Carly and I was home alone and I need that job and I'm tired and the dishes are dirty and and and, He was there. He came and found me.

Thank you for finding me, Jesus. "Here's my cup, fill it up, fill it up."

62.

It's in the hazy moment, between finishing a dream and fully opening my eyes to the morning sunshine.

Sometimes I think it's the Holy Spirit's favorite moment to speak. It's as if He has a minute all to Himself, before my mind is concerned with anything else. No schedules to fuel my brain, no mirrors to catch my eye. Only Him, and His welcome into a new day.

It's one of my favorite times to hear Him speak. Something about the way it reminds me that His eye is on me, His thoughts are towards me, without me doing anything to gain them. Psalm 139 in action, I suppose:

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you. [ESV]

Sometimes it's a song, sometimes it's just a line. Whatever it is He says, it sets the tone for the day, clues me in to what His theme for the hour is. This morning it wasn't there right away when I woke up, so I asked: "Jesus, what's the line for today?"

You are wanted.

Wanted. What a fantastic theme for today.

I pulled myself out of bed, made my way to the coffee pot, then settled into a chair in the bright dining room. My Bible fell easily open to the page my heart has been singing for the past days, Isaiah 61. I've been given a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, I'm made to be a planting of the Lord that He might display His beauty. Under the heading of Isaiah 62, a few familiar lines are underlined in pink:

but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her,
and your land Married; [ESV]

Wanted.

In a moment of brutal honesty -- I have a day in my mind when I assume I will know that I know that I am wanted. It involves a white dress, a handsome groom, you get the picture. There is a part of me that long has mistakenly believed that when a man desires me, I will know for sure that I am desirable. I will be a chosen Bride, a won heart, and I will know.

This morning I realized that the theme of that desire is correct, I am made to be married. My value is very clearly spoken to by the pursue of a Man, but it is not the earthly man I so easily think of. Neither is the jury still out. I need not wait to know. I can know today, because of those words pulled off the page by a pink highlighter.

I am already called Married. I am already spoken for. I have already been chased, I have already been won. You and I, we are worth something. We are wanted. The Heavenly Man, He has called us His own. He wants us. The cross proves it.

It is a sweet thing to be wanted and won.

Security

I think I was about twelve when I got sidelined by a kidney infection. I remember that it was a terribly hot July day, which I spent out in the sun at a church yard sale. I remember laying on my couch at home in excruciating pain, with no idea what was wrong except that there were knives in my back and I had lost my lunch. I'm sure my parents prayed for me, and I somehow drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted by pain.

When I came to, I was resting between my parents in the front seat of my Grandma's old white Buick, about to pull away from our house for the hospital. The pain was totally gone, and I felt sleepily at peace. Thinking back over this last night, I realized: my daddy must have carried me out to the car.

You know, when I was small, I fell asleep in the car all the time. We would get home, I would wake up, but I would keep my eyes closed and act limp, just so my dad would have to carry me inside.

I thought last night about safety and reassurance. I don't know if you knew this, but I moved my life across the country again this week. Kansas City is home once more, and while moving home to family is a wonderful dynamic, it is still change. Transition. A moment where you look down and try to figure out what exactly you are standing on.

Honestly, the picture that came to my mind when I thought of the whisper of safety from the Lord was that of an emergency room. There's me, lying on the table, doctors and nurses and tubes and needles and beeps and more nurses flying around me. Near my head, though, bent low and close to my ear is my heavenly Father. From His presence, from His reassurance, comes absolute peace. All it takes is His constant voice: "I'm here, you're going to be fine." The safety of a Father. A friend of mine recently landed in the hospital and even though she is grown and on her own, what did her dad do? Rush to Tacoma, of course.

I'm carried, I'm covered, I'm watched out for. I know that no matter what streets I drive down, His hand is there. No matter what adventure He takes me on, He's coming too. Behold, what manner of love is this, that I am a child of God.

I'm safe.

Knowing

You know what?

God loves me something fierce.

Sometimes I worry about a situation, how something will pan out. I get frustrated with myself, afraid that I can't make something happen. All it takes is a moment, a gentle reminder from the Holy Spirit. He's in charge. He's holding on, and His grip is tight. He's going to do what He wants to do in me.

It's like a bullet-proof jacket, His love. I've never worn one, but I imagine it feels somewhat like a life jacket. I love zipping a life jacket around me, the feeling of being held in, held together, protected. If I were to crash into the water, it's not coming off.

There's a point where you have to quit simply dodging fear and instead turn around, stare it in the face and say "You know what? You're ridiculous. My God is strong." The strongest love, the most powerful force you will ever encounter, is on your side. I wish, I so badly wish there were words to describe the fire of the love of the Creator of the ends of the earth. I want to write and write and write, just to try to find a way to say it.

There's a fire all around me, holding me in, pressing me together. He targeted me, chose me to surround. How is the burning jealousy of the Bridegroom spoken in the tender whisper of the Holy Spirit?

He is big, and His love is strong.

To Brighten Your Day

My sister wrote this wondrous song about her Glorie.  I figured I would let Glorie be a cute part of your day, because she makes everything better.  You're welcome. :)