Asking and Receiving

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1


My husband hung up the phone and glanced over at me.

"That was the call you've been praying for."

I blinked trying to remember what he was talking about, "What do you mean?" 

"It was the La Ventana Apartments, they just had an opening."

That single sentence popped through my brain like a firecracker. My lips parted in a grin as we hurried our two toddlers to the car. All I could think was...God, why are you so good?

...

You see, three months ago, my husband and I made a pretty significant transitional decision for our family. At the time we were currently living in a 4 bedroom, 2 bath, large and spacious brick home in one of Abilene, Tx's newest and most family friendly neighborhoods. And we lived there for free. Now before you start asking how does that even happen, let me just remind you if you don't already know that Phil and I have been host parents for international students for the last 3 years. We were blessed to lived in such a home because the organization that brings the students to Texas provided it for us. Needless to say we were comfortable. Finances, though not perfect, were reasonable and looking better each month. We were paying off school debt, we were enjoying the three high school boys we had living with us, and we were only a couple blocks away from our church. Our two kids, ages 1 and 2, though growing out of their small tiny room (which technically was a very large walk-in closet) were happy and content. We completely assumed we'd be living there for at least another year, with more students and our own growing family. 

However, somewhere around mid-march, one of us (I don't remember which) brought up the fact that we actually hadn't prayed about next year and what God's heart was for us. It is the most logical thing to do and yet neither of us had done it yet. So...we sat down that night and did it. As you can imagine God doesn't lead in the ways we expect. Ever. 

It became very clear over the next week, after much prayer, talking with our parents and with our community, that we weren't suppose to to keep hosting students, which therefore meant we wouldn't be living in our house anymore. (which by the way, the organization that owned the house had actually sold it but they didn't tell us till after we had made our decision. So we would have had to move anyway. Doesn't it blow your mind sometimes that God already knows things?)

Anyway, I can tell you all the logical reasons for this decision as well as all the illogical reasons, but none of that matters, because the point was God was calling us into a new season of faith. We were downsizing to an apartment, we were losing income and free housing, but most importantly we were focusing on just our family, our two kids and each other.

So began the search for a new place to live. It was the beginning of April and we only had two months before we had to move out at the end of May. We were thinking we wanted an apartment but we were also open to a rent house and we needed to live within 5 minutes of ACU if at all possible because of Phil's job. Our budget was tight and though it seemed like a small picky thing, we really wanted an apartment with a washer and dryer. (when you use cloth diapers with your kiddos, laundry is a daily thing, not to mention how many pairs of clothing they both go through in a day)

Surprisingly it didn't take us long to find the perfect apartment. It was directly across the highway from our current neighborhood, it was within our price range, within the right distance from ACU, right next to our church still and it had a washer and dryer. It was kind of unreal how perfect.

But, the waiting list had at least 50+ people on it and all the apartments were leased out for the year. I couldn't believe when Phil told me the news. I remember telling him, "We are suppose to live in that apartment. I just know. It's too perfect."

He just shook his head. Obviously we knew there was nothing either of us could do. We moved on to continue the house search, but I started praying, because deep down inside I knew that was the place we were suppose to move to in May. I knew that La Ventana Apartments was our new home.

I've never been one of those name it and claim it type of people, they sometimes annoy me in all honesty, but I have asked God for more opportunities to grow in faith in the past year. And He normally takes you up on your word when you ask for such things. And I felt compelled to ask for this one. I could hear the still quiet voice in my heart, "This is yours, all you have to do is ask."

The apartment complex is right off the highway into town from our neighborhood, so I would drive by it every day. And every time I would pray and ask for divine intervention, even sometimes go so far as to turn into the apartment complex, drive through it.

A month went by and I kept at, much to my husband's growing annoyance. He was afraid I was getting my hopes raised, only to be disappointed. We laugh at this now.

One morning in the middle of the week we were looking at a house to possibly rent. It was very close to ACU, much too large for us and quite far above our budget, but we were considering it, thinking through any way we could afford it and ways we could possibly make it work. I felt slightly despondent. I had lost count of how many apartments and houses we had looked at, how many phone calls I had made and how many different ways we were trying to figure out our finances. Everything had both good and bad qualities and in every place these qualities differed from the one before. It felt like we were always trying to decide between the lesser of two evils.

I had begun to give up on the La Ventana apartments. My prayers were less frequent, my thoughts towards it no longer as hopeful. I wasn't even thinking about it when Phil's phone rang. We were almost finished looking at the house. I honestly had no idea what he was talking about when he said the words, "That was the call you've been praying for."

It all happened so quickly. Apparently someone had to drop out of their lease last minute. Who knew? The apartment manager had called everyone on the waiting list and was telling us all that who ever brought a deposit first would get the apartment. We were literally two minutes away. Within an hour we had put down a deposit and signed the lease.

Perhaps, to some reading this, it doesn't seem that big of deal. A crazy coincidence. Simply luck. Or some may, sheesh, it's just an apartment, don't be so dramatic. But I say, God cares for His children. He cares about our desires and our prayers. And though He is not some magic genie in the sky handing out favors at the drop of a hat and though so many times He does not give us what we want or ask for...sometimes He does. And in those moments, no matter the simplicity or complexity of the request, His goodness can be overwhelming. I immediately wondered the question: why me? Why would You listen to anything I ask for? But never the less, thank you, thank you, thank you!

That's all I could think of for days afterwards. Now, every time I would drive by the apartment complex I would spend the entire 10 seconds thanking God for His provision and for His goodness. And you know what, we love our apartment. We've been living here a month now and have enjoyed every minute of it. From the wood floors, to the granite countertops, to the low rent price and the in-house washer and dryer. It's even on the first floor, whichever for anyone who has small children learning to walk you know is completely necessary. Oh, and did I mention it has a two playgrounds for the kids, a pool (with a kiddie pool attached), a community room for our lifegroup and 24/7 exercise room? Not to mention the entire place is well landscaped, the apartment manager goes to our church and the apartments themselves are just at the edge of the city. I can smell cow manure from the pasture besides us, which I know sounds weird, but makes me feel right at home, since I grew up in the country. Its the small things that God cares about.

I'm not sure if God has something more than just answering a prayer for us living here in this apartment. Maybe we could lead some future revivalist to Christ here or maybe we will create a deep, genuine community of people among the other residents or maybe...it was just lesson in faith, of asking and receiving, of sowing faith and reaping a harvest of favor. I don't know much about the future or what God's will is all time, but I know that He is a good father, who gives good gifts to children and delights in bringing them pleasure. And I am thankful I am His child and grateful for the favor He gives. It a good season to trust His faithfulness and to be reminded that He cares about what we care about often, because He is our creator.

"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

“Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." - Matthew 6:25-34                                       

Just let her jump

"Just let her jump."

We were strolling through the gardens of the Chateau de Chantilly and it was our last day in France. My husband said those words after I had repeatedly voiced my concern over the state of my two-year-old daughter's leggings and dress as mud and cold water splashed above her rubber boots. There seem to be a puddle on the garden path every five feet. I stared in frustration as she let out a giggle and jumped both feet first into the next one. I sighed, staring past her towards the picturesque scene behind us. A 14th century home of a French noble family; stone walls, graceful architecture and elegant gates. It was too beautiful to be irritated, yet there I was, wrinkles across my forehead and my lips crooked into a frown as Isabelle splashed into yet another puddle. 

I feel like I spend half my time as a mother cleaning up spills and accidents and rubbing stains out of clothes. Its even worse when you are on a three week trip to Europe with two toddlers. In my defense I was trying to avoid as much mess as possible. But I somehow failed to see the green grass and blue sky and most of all the wonder in my daughter's eyes. She wasn't worried about her clothes or cold water or my feelings on the matter. All she knew was she was free. No one was strapping her into a carseat or holding tightly to her hand or telling her to sit still. She was simply being a child, in all the the glory and wonder of it all. 

As we meandered deeper through the gardens, leaving the chateau behind, I was reminded quite vividly how easily it is to forget beauty amidst worry. I was letting my importance on appearance and comfort take over the deeper meanings of life. We had just spent an entire hour touring one of the most beautiful, historic buildings I've ever visited and within minutes of walking out the exit doors I was worried about minor inconveniences. I forgot the pleasure of my child's heart and focused on the selfishness of my own. Too many times I fixate on everything out of place instead of seeing the depth of richness right below the surface of chaos. As I passed the broken bridges and overgrown statues amongst the garden paths, remnants of the french past, I could hear Isabelle's laughter echoing the trees. She was surrounded by beauty and that was all she saw. Would that I had eyes to see that more often. Would that we all. 

And so she kept jumping, from puddle to puddle, trekking through the mud, her curls askew and her cheeks ruddy red. 

Children are a blessing

I spend every day, every moment with my two little bundles of joy. I change diapers every hour, read books every 30 min, I sing Pooh Bear theme songs before breakfast and after lunch, I nurse constantly, I soothe tears, kisses bruises, wipe dirty noses and doctor rashes; I spend every waking moment and even the sleeping hours thinking and mothering. Some people might say that's exhausting, don't you ever want a break? Its never exhausting and the times I do get out for some free time, I'm always missing them within an hour and can't wait to get back home to them. I can't imagine life without them both. I love being home all day. I love cooking, doing laundry, cleaning, writing (yes I get writing done here and there) and working on DIY projects, like making homeade hand soap. (shout out here to Young Living Essential Oils) I love doing all of this. Its restful, peaceful and so rewarding. And when I think of the fruit of what will bring it is so fully rich of blessing. These two lives that depend so solely on my care  right now could one day impact that world. Instead of overwhelming me, it is humbling. Nurturing the life of human being from the day they are created is beyond the best job and career in life. It has so much farther reaching results than any other career or position in life I can think of.

Every day I treasure because I know these days go fast. Children grow exponentially and these little moments of sweet sighs, little voices and pattering feet don't last forever. I watch as they learn new things every day from first smiles to first sentences. Its likes watching creation being spoken into being. There is glory and peace all wrapped into timeless moments. The blessing of children dictates the atmosphere in a home. Like the first spoken word that was breathed from God's lips, the lives and spirits of children breathe life and a creation of joy within a home. I know this is the fruit of months of prayer and setting our hearts as parents in the right place of receiving them as blessings and speaking the truth of who they are in Christ over them. (I mean literally speaking out verbally the truths of who they are)

People always marvel at the happiness and ease with which both my kids interact with the world. I can't attribute it to good parenting, because I feel like a fail at things every day. It has everything to do with speaking life and not death, refusing to speak the curses of low expectations and stereotypes of them, and instead proclaiming what God has destined them to be. People keep saying: "Well, just wait til she gets a little older or until he starts crawling." She got older folks and its not anywhere close to all your nay-saying. She has a sin nature, not doubt about that, but its not like this big shock. When we work through temper-tantrums or impatience or frustration I never feel like it is wearing me out, mostly because it happens so infrequently. He's not crawling yet of course, but he has been sleeping through the nights since 4 weeks. I honestly don't know how that happened, except that God has surrounded that child with a peace that surpasses all understanding. And I am telling you that comes out of the place of prayer and placing our children in surrender to the Lord's leadership and care. I am seriously selfish and imperfect as a parent and to be blessed with children who are so patient and so easy, seems beyond what I deserve. I keep waiting for something to get hard, something to get seriously challenging, but it only gets better. I don't understand how or why, except that the Lord is good and His mercy endures forever. His promise that children are a blessing is literal and He eagerly and graciously gives when we ask to receive that promise.

I am so thankful and pray that my heart can expand to hold and faithfully care for the good that He gives.

Isabelle Noelle, March 2014

Benjamin Titus, March 2014

Our son is coming!

In 6 short weeks (give or take a few days) we will be welcoming our second child, Benjamin Titus into the world. Times flies, faster than you can blink, literally. It seems like just yesterday I was walking down the aisle to say my vows, and now I'm a mother to two. As the Christmas season speeds into view, welcomed by a blustery ice storm and a three day weekend of cozy time with my family of three, it seems that life couldn't get much better. Between Christmas shopping (aka amazon.com), decorating, crafting, cooking and parenting a 1-year-old whirlwind of energy and excitement, life is full and overflowing with joy and thanksgiving. When our son arrives, it will only cap an already beautiful season of abundance.

We look forward to holding him in our arms and getting to be parents once more to a second blessing from God.

Exploration

I watched my one-year-old toddle onto the playground. Her chubby little feet trip over themselves in their urgent desire discover her environment. Her baby blues are dilated at their widest, trying to take in the scenery of twisted pipes and metals, all so brightly colored and tightly screwed into one another. Other children scream and giggle and her curly head twists straining to see despite her shortness. To much to see all at once. She circles aimless in excitement, switching her direction every 30 secs, exhilarated at the thrill. Her emotions and excitement are overcoming every part of her 30 lb. little being. How much could she possibly absorb in each glance, through each intake of shaky, excited breath.

The yellow, faded slide holds too much joy as she sits at the top. She holds on to the sides, releasing squeals of both agitation and expectation. The bottom seems so far away yet she knows the thrill of falling. When she clumsily lets go and slides to the bottom, her snaggle-tooth grin is obnoxiously confident.

The swing flops as she tries to crawl out of its confines, it is so much more fun to watch the other children swing. If she could stand right under their dangerous toes she would be content to laugh and squeal, unaware of how she would tumble. The glory of living oozes from her rosy little lips and dancing round eyes.

She toddles across the grassy field, zigzagging, not even looking for me over her dimpled shoulder. Intent on some lofty and far goal, of which she does not know. There is only the the sky blue, the crunchy browning autumn grass and her own imagination. Her arms pump back and forth as she hurries. How far would she walk if I let her go with no redirection? 

Waiting

Clock ticking, seconds dragging, minutes tugging and pulling, pressing on your expectancy or anxiety. I'm not sure society really can accept or be at peace with the reality of waiting, especially in a society where getting things completed and accomplished is the idol so many of us struggle not to worship and find ourselves bound to. I struggle in the waiting almost every day, worrying about what isn't getting done, stressing about details, impatient in expectancy for the good stuff, wishing for less laboring and more fruit. Where does the restlessness come from, this disturbance of peace and tranquility, this invader that drags confusion and despair in its wake? Where does the need to finish quickly and move on to the next thing to finish quickly, sliding through inconvenience after inconvenience, as though trying to keep our hands clean and our muscles as little used as possible; we yearn for pleasure, yet when it comes we experience it so quickly we don't really soak in the moments. 

I set up a clothesline in my backyard recently for all my little one's many cloth diapers that need drying. I have a dryer, but where is the experience in throwing damp clothing into dryer? Standing barefoot in the grass, sun beating down on my head, hands snapping clothes pins into place, I found a sudden peace in the methodicalness of it all, the slowness, the absence of efficiency. There is something beautiful about wet cloths on a clothesline. Something mystical. I'm not sure if its the sun-bleached smell or the damp slap of material against bare skin as the autumn breeze lifts the diapers. Diapers make me think of baby boy growing by the pound every month just under my skin. Only inches away, but completely invisible, accept to sonogram machines of course. Talk about expectantly waiting. Anxiously waiting. Unlike the stereo typical expressions I've heard throughout my life of women who feel the longer their baby inside the womb the safer and more protected they feel the infant is. I feel the completely the opposite. During the months of pregnancy I feel out of control and often battle fear for this tiny human being that is living inside of me who I cannot see or touch. What is happening inside the inner chambers of my physical body, what magical alignment of expanding cells and developing organs is taking place, what is this little soul feeling and experiencing? Despite the intimacy of our closeness, I still feel separated by a wall of flesh and tissue. What I cannot see often attacks me with worry. The waiting is often agony. How do I find the joy and peace of expectancy? Is it somewhere in the tension between mystery and reality, trust and truth?

I hang diapers on a line and feel baby boy kick and wish I could see his face and then remember he still is being formed in his mother's womb by the masterful Creator of the universe. I probably don't want to hurry up that process. We all just might miss out on something far grander and mystical than we could every imagine. 

Safety and Comfort

I was talking to a friend yesterday about the importance of giving over control of our children. When a toddler falls, do we not run to quickly to their aide, freaking out over a small bruise or scrape? Can we not allow our children to fail in order that they may might learn better how to walk on their own? Instead of manipulating circumstances to be perfect and spotlessly safe, is it not better to give danger a little permission so that our children are offered an opportunity to grow and mature? I would rather my daughter or son enjoy the freedom of their own power and choices, knowing that I am still there to comfort and love, knowing that if there was truly a danger worth avoiding I would step into intervene (aka. electrical cord, the edge of the couch, small choking hazards etc.) 

I hope in these smalls ways I can exemplify the Father's parenting and love. Does He not love us in the mess, wait patiently for us to understand and mature and protect us in times of need or grave danger? Does He not sit with us in times of frustration and rebellion, waiting for us to reach for Him when we have finished our fighting and anger? In thinking about the Father's response towards me, I am slowly finding myself walking in more grace to react in patience and kindness to my own child.

Morning quiet

The morning is quiet. It is after the house empties of a husband and two teenagers, before baby girl awakes and the business of wiping a snotty nose, cleaning a chapped bottom and sopping up milk spills begins. It is before sewing projects, preparing meals, going to dr. appointments, meetings friends and trying to remember where exactly I last set down my iphone. I should get up every morning this early, to sit in the stillness of a cooling September morning, sipping coffee and feeling sweet baby boy moving in my belly. Twenty-one weeks today. He is healthy and strong the doctor says. His sweet sonogram pictures hangs above my side of the bed so its the first thing I see when I wake every morning. He seems sleepy himself this morning; only faint stirrings.
Thousands of small pieces of cut grass lie across the back porch, evidence of my husband's weed hacking adventure yesterday evening. The aroma of nature clings to papa-sun chair I sit curled up in. The distant rhythms of highway 351 rumbles in the distance and an off beat chorus of various birds awaking to the morning sun bounces through the neighborhood trees. I wonder what it feels like to be completely silent, still and tranquil. What is the meaning of quiet? How does one truly sit in the stillness? It says that the Lord came not in the storm or the fire, but in a whisper on the wind...in the stillness. But how does one get to that stillness, that place of utter calm. Positioning oneself? Meditating on His presence? Asking? Or does one just simply sit and wait...resting in the tension of expectation and hope?

The weather is cooler this morning than yesterday, settling in around my thoughts, creeping in around my attitudes and desires, pulling at the memories of my heart, reminding me of the Creator's ever consistent creation. Seasons slip into seasons, with ease, with grace, with joy. Creation heralds each season with the calm, assured confidence that life has a goodness about it, an order, a peace.

Joy

Joy is often most needed in the times where you would assume it would be most found. My season of life right now is full of reasons to be joyful and full of thanksgiving, but it seems like the enemy is trying his best to undermine in all his little ways. I find myself bemoaning the fact that I have to go to class, when the reality is that this semester I'm taking my LAST TWO college classes every. There is a reason to rejoice!!! Then I find myself frustrated over my lack of exercise, when really my body is doing incredibly well from having just BIRTHED a BABY six months ago! Then I found myself complaining about never having a enough time to myself, but in all honesty I have a lot time at home to myself. And the the list could go on...

All those little lies of dissatisfaction, they creep into your heart, trying to counter-attack the goodness of Jesus. I see it, I understand the strategy and it ain't happening. Which brings me to testify on how good the Lord has been to me this week. He has given me opportunity and guidance to refuse the enemy's deception and choose the way of wisdom. In the process He has guarded my heart and mind and kept tongue from evil. I am to very thankful right now.

This morning I get to curl up in bed and blog, while listening to my sweet little girl sleep in her crib across the room. Now that's peace and contentment!

Final Things

These days fly by faster than I can hold on to. It seems everyone is graduating or getting married or engaged or having babies. Me no less than anyone else. Finals week of my senior year is only a day away. A week after that and two of my best friends, Ryan Martin and Kristen Powell are marrying each other in Cottonwood, Texas. Two weeks after that Phil and I are moving into our second house just down the street. A month and half after that the precious baby in my womb is due to arrive in this world.

School still looms in the future, as I still have one year left. (Going the five year plan) It seems nearly insane that I've made it this far. Summer of 2012 is looming ahead of us. Anxious, expectant and full of a lot of growth. The excitement of having friends to walk besides and live life with us this summer is an amazing blessing. I don't know where the Lord is going to take the three of us couples, but the fruit we are already seeing over the past few weeks speaks expectancy into the the things to come.

Its been a painful void of writing during this last season or last year really. I hardly ever write unless its an assignment for school. I can feel the weight of this bearing me down. There is much to be done...How in the world do I start. I feel it would take a year to catch up and that realization is overwhelming. I secretly want to do photography, but am afraid to invest the time and money for fear I would give up or lose interest. Yet, the desire to capture memories and life to illustrate my written words is very attractive and alluring.

In many ways these next few weeks are a tying up and completing of former things and moving on to the next stage in life. Goodbyes to graduating friends and hellos to those moving into our lives are a constant reminder of this reality. I feel like every week a separating between what was and what is becoming. I like it, most of the time. Sometimes I feel confused and lost. I am not exactly the one always moving, but it seems the world swirls around me with change. Yet I am changing too. Everything seems bigger than it used to be, in the best possible way. The world is full of choices and opportunity, of sweet friendships, both old and new that flow in and out of our lives.

It seems the one thing that remains is family. I am realizing this more and more. And find this discovery very fulfilling and comforting.

A normal day in the week

Well, it's that time of year again for a new look and feel. The cool air from our first autumn cold front of 2011 has me all inspired and giddy. Today is the second day of the second week of school. I love Tuesday/ Thursdays because I have no work or class until 9:30am. It is a beautiful change from the last three years of all 8:00ams. My living room windows are open, the sun is up, my kitten is purring and coffee is brewing in the kitchen. Hazelnut brew...mmmhhh...my favorite.

I'm looking forward to my Nonfiction class with Bill Carrol this morning. We are reading our first text "The Sacredness of Questioning Everything" by David Dark. It was quite a wild and strange read. I've never read anything by an agnostic before and he had my head quite spinning with all of his ambiguity. It prefaces itself for an exciting discussion in class today, which I am actually pumped about. That is what happens when you hit your senior year as an English major, you start waking up and actually want to talk in class.

After my morning class I have chapel, which is only 30 minutes, always a good time too see my community in Section C. Then work for an hour and half...and then Business and Professional writing with Haley at 3:00pm. See as all my homework is done for that class and the one this morning I feel ready to seize the day. Being prepared just makes life so much more relaxing, don't you think?

I might even get Phil to put the hammock up in the yard this evening so I can do my homework out there before the sun goes down. He's leading Fire in the Night with Ashley at 9:30pm (which I also need to be at) so hopefully he won't be to busy preparing for it.

Two more weeks and maybe, just the weather will be cool enough to wear my boots all day. I love pulling out all the fall clothing. Makes me want to eat apple pie and take pictures in the leaves.

Hold on.

A thousand little pictures, they flash, in between blinking lights, faded memories of sorrows and joys. It's like a heartbeat, pulsing under the flesh of a human body. Slow and steady. The rhythm of another world, the unseen life source behind the veil.It grips you and then releases. One minute your free and the next your are enslaved. The force of the wave you leave behind in your wake can cause the driest tree to bloom and yet leave a trail of causalities with the deepest wounds.

You would die if asked, for a taste, a glimpse, a simple kiss of the one you ached to know. And yet to know is surrounded with heartache, with loss and with thwarted desire. You bend to not break and break to be healed. It's not easy, when a gun is pointed at your head and the trigger decides your next breath, your next embrace and your next life.

You fingers grasp and yearn and the pictures keep dancing, reminding you of what you do not have and yet what you long for. You would scream if you had enough air to breathe and you would cry if indeed your tears would be enough.

But none of it is...so you keep searching.

Memories

I was in Hawaii less than a month ago. Sitting on a beach with a book in my hands, sun tanning my skin and sand creeping its way inside my bathing suit. I was staring out into rolling blue waves, watching my husband of only a few days riding the wakes with his surf board. Kauai's impressive mountain range pushed its way to the clouds behind me, where four-hundred foot waterfalls tumbled down to the island's valley floor.

I'm pretty sure every thing is several tones brighter in Hawaii. Also the rain is clearer and fruit is three times as big. When I took  my first step off the plane in Honolulu I swear the air tasted like sugar. Maybe not the most accurate description, but it was what I felt, plus the breeze blowing in from the ocean was like heaven.

People can say I was on my honeymoon and perhaps every thing was romanticized, but I'm pretty darn sure that was the way it was. In any case, now that I'm back in Texas, and the weather is sizzling hot and the air dry and your sweat tastes like vinegar salt I can't help remembering Hawaii. The only way of enjoying a good book here is in the cool, air conditioned atmosphere of your own home or sitting on your computer near an electrical outlet.

Like today I'm inside, with the curtains drawn and cool cup of sweet tea in my hands. A cool, deep, blue ocean of water would be real nice right now.

You can feeling the yearning.
You can taste.
Hear it.
Almost touch it.
It follows you around, on the hem of your jeans, hanging there silent and heavy. It pulls with uninhibited inconsideration at what you are doing, jerks at you with dogmatic precision and whispers with gentle caresses. It never leaves, but neither does stay close enough for you to hold and real enough for you see. It dances just out of reach, teasing, laughing and winking and then falls back in step just behind, dust in its wake and fire in its eyes.

If you look back it will slide to the left and if you look to the left it will slide to the right, but it always pushes you forward, pleading for a chance to show you it's dreams. One by one they flash in before your eyes, leaving you breathless and aching. And when it touches your belly with that finger of desire you flail and writhe, begging for mercy and but asking for more. You cover your ears, but your heart is unguarded, then you close your eyes, but your feet keep moving. There is no power to stop it on earth or in heaven.

And so you walk and then you run, but the yearning remains, holding your hands and kissing your feet. The strength of its will and the fury of its devotion sweep you off your feet and you fall panting in the dirt.

It really does not have a name, but the only one I can come up with today is this: Heaven is out there, reminding me I belong there and not here and it will never let up until I am home.

Homesick

“If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy,

the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” - C.S. Lewis

It is the lonely sinking in your gut that gets you first. Like a deep aching hole that falls straight to your toes. Nothing you feel, taste, see, hear or touch can make it full. The emptiness reverberates within your soul like a time bomb, threatening you, mocking you, pushing you...to the limits of your control. Your longings erupt, but their valiant efforts always fall just short of satisfaction. Then you begin the searching again, hoping against hope to take away the hole, only to find it is always growing bigger.

Your questions scream for help, and the answers your find are never complete. What is it you long for?

The confessions of my heart are false to the desires that truly lie within. It is not just the brilliant sunrises, a lover's sweet kisses, music's passionate release or the thrill of accomplishment. These open up the doors to a place I have not even set a toenail upon. Yet I feel it in these moments and the anguish is less than bearable.

Then the fantasies come. The foolish fantasies that the mind and reason condemn, while yet the heart grabs hold of with tenacious hope. Fantasies of another world. A place where nothing is impossible. Am I a fool to even speak these childish words? Some would say yes, without a moment's hesitation.

I watched the sunset tonight and knew. I knew the how and I knew why. I knew where it all came from...I knew where I came from. This is the big secret.

I am, we all are, from another world. We are displaced aliens, wondering a foreign land. Our memories are erased, our hearts have forgotten, only our spirits yearn and remember what once was. Our dreams struggle to touch our minds with the truth.

Like a virulent disease it begins to spread through our consciousness, one cell at a time. Until we are utterly shaking in the throes of its violence. We are people sick because of something that is far to good than we can imagine. We are homesick. Longing to go to the place from where we were created, from where we were born.

Home. Heaven. Jesus.

It makes perfect sense that I am groaning in anguish, that I'm consistently heart broken, that I am weary, tired and growing older every day.

Creation is waiting in the darkness of night, writhing as though in labor, waiting for the morning to come with it's fulfillment and hope.

When will we go home? When will all this madness end? The way has been made, how much longer before the door opens? How much more before life is as it should be?

Will not those who have forgotten, remember? Will we not ALL long for the same thing and hasten it's return? We must all groan in anguish before the end for our joy to be complete. Hasten, hasten, the awaking of grief and desire and what we seek will be restored!

And yet, today I slowly burn with longing. I feel, but cannot touch, taste, but cannot eat, hear but cannot sing, see but cannot move. I must wage war until it is time, I must endure until the end. I must walk in faith and in peace.

A real feeling....

The lights glow with enthusiasm, then dim to a lull of solitude. The voices rise like an assembly, yet each distinctly different. Every sound unique, beautiful and full of pure, childlike peace and contentment. How could life be more satisfying and beautiful then it is right here, right now in this moment? Every little motion and movement is the action of close and intimate, comfortable friends.

A soft smile, a silly laugh, the touch of a hand and the rise and fall of conversation. Everyone is gathered to the gentle rasp of an acoustic guitar, faces raised in beauty, voices yearning with longing. could there really be anything more simple and pure as this?

I write, yet can capture nothing of this moment in time that will soon end as the evening slips by, minute by minute, second by second. How time takes a vicious unrelenting hold on our lives. I wish I could hit the pause button, yet to stop such beauty would be an abomination to it's life. I want to experience a thousand more like it.

Where are the angels, where is the sweet fragrance? Can I hold onto this forever? Do these precious moments just fade. Never...they will continue on for eternity...heaven is waiting with a treasure store of them.

Only the Beginning of the Beginning...

What is this Thing that draws people together in worship? What causes a small group of six to ten young people to sit for hours, late into the night singing songs and praying to a Being most would say we cannot see or hear? What is this mystery? Why do we find such beauty here? Who is this God who places such aching longings in our souls? I cannot give emotion it's honor. This is a reality of who we are at the core of our beings. Yet mind, will ...and emotions central to who we are.

In absolute grace the Lord asks us to surrender them all to His ways. How delightful this is. Are we fools to think such a thing? Never.

Sit with Jesus, in a place surrounded by people whose one desire is Jesus, and very quickly your heart will explode with peace, revelation and awareness of Jesus' voice. It is Jesus in your brothers and sisters that beckons you forward, into His presence, deeper into a steadfast spirit of praise. How does this happen? How did my heart reach this place? I feel full and complete beyond measure. Can I sit here forever? Can these faces and voices remain for eternity. Yet, this is not even scratching the surface of these longings.

Even as I love the atomsphere of fellowship, of joining in love towards Jesus and of continually pouring out sacrifices of praise I feel a urgent rush of more desire flooding my spirit. Heaven is like this. I have no doubt of it, but this is only the beginning of the beginning.

Jesus, create a heart of deeper reality. I never want to be satisfied, but always fulfilled. Hold my heart and whisper to me Your truth. Your truth of what is good and holy. Nothing else will I seek.

Growing...

I am so thankful for just being in inadequate right now. For having to face myself and realize I am not all I need, no matter how I try to justify that I don't do that. I am so thankful that the only way I can be adequate is through Him. I am so thankful that He created me to only being complete in being in Him and in nothing else. I love how He sweeps everything from out beneath my feet and says," trust me, I'm gonna catch you without fail."

"You are beautiful mess, and I love putting together all the pieces, and teaching you to delight in the process, because I delight in the process! You desire my heart? This is my heart."

Then His hands suddenly hold me, even as I feel the rush of fear and despair in my free fall. Those feelings immediately turn into absolute confidence and hope. It is not about me. It was never about me, yet it is, but it isn't.

I stop making plans of how to avoid messing up, I stop making plans of how to be perfect, I stop making plans of trying to create myself into what I think I should be...instead I throw myself into the wild, untamed greatness of crazy God is has nothing better to do but draw me into Himself.

That is all this life is about

Longings...

Today is one of those days where I sat up in bed and felt that craving to write, though like always I didn't understand what I exactly was longing for until I was awake another two hours or so. I had to walk barefoot across the creaking, wooden floorboards of the cold house, stir up the fire, turn the gas heater on in the bathroom and glance in the mirror before taking a hot shower. Than I read my bible, played with my sister's cat and peeked into my brothers' room where they still lay soundly asleep. I took out the trash, stored away the last of the christmas decor and then talked to my mom on phone for while. It wasn't until nearly 11am that I realized what I really wanted to do. I was reading an email update on my favorite author, Ted Dekker, and followed a link to his blog, where I read his newest post, and that was when I realized how long it had been since I really sat down to write something, and pour actual deep, gut thought into it. I remembered why I love writing so much...and I remembered my dreams of being an author. I guess in the last few months I've just let it slip away from me. I feel a little broken, now with that realization, feeling as though something has fallen off of me like the arm of the porclain doll might crack and break when dropped.

It is a bit strange admitting this. It is a bit strange wondering how come I'm at this point of rediscovery, even a bit shame that I could forget something to vital a part of who I am. Like I said, I feel broken. Broken however is good, because it makes the fixing process that much more appreciated and loved.

I really wish to just sit down and right out a tale of longing right now, of heaven and children's delights, of angels, maybe even demons and a huge father whose laugh shakes the roof of the house. It makes me smile thinking about it. Wish I could write faster than I do, because I don't have much time to write. I have two and half more days til school starts again. The pressure of seeing how full my schedule already is, leaves me in just a little despair. It's like being in a hot steamy room, and wiping at the window to look outside, but the window just keeps fogging right back no matter how strong your efforts to stop it.

Aw, well, I'll find a way. This longing isn't going to leave now that it has my attention.

Listening to the heart of the Father...

Love is the banner which flies over every strategy of the Lord. It waves like a gentle breeze, touching the winds of the human spirit like a soft whisper. You can hear it in the voice of another, feel it under the warm glow candlelight,
see it in the vast expanse of a midnight sky. It beckons with relentless strength and patience...it never ends.
This is the heart of the Father, never-ending, always there, forever touching the hearts of His children. Do we truly hear Him? Do we feel Him? Can we sense Him in the atmosphere around us? Do we recognize that it is Him?
I think His love is oftentimes drowned out by our own longings for it. If we would let our spirits quiet down and listen with the intent of knowing His voice, then we would see a much bigger, more beautiful world than we ever imagined could be there. And in return our longings are satisfied.
To know the heart of the Father, means we know Him. Every time He speaks, we are so familiar with that voice, with the call of His heart, that we immediately respond, knowing without a doubt it is He. This is the place where I want to be...