2018 The year I learned to be brave

It's been a year of heavy.
It's been a year of letting go of fear.
It's been a year of loving despite the pain.
It's been a year of learning to be brave.

January - One of my foster loves thought death was the only way to stop the pain of the past.  Even though I did everything I could to protect her, I found myself with her in the ER and then sitting with  her before taking her home from Acadia.
February - She moved from our house to another family who we thought could better love her.  I sat with my big boys in a restaurant holding them close as the they grieved her move, not understanding why they couldn't say goodbye.
March - A women I deeply admired but was too afraid to pursue passed leaving me with hard lessons learned.
April - The Babe had a routine NICU evaluation done to find that he was five months behind, and needed to begin therapy.  First weekly visits while at home we worked hard, him and I, to learn to move.
May - There was talk that the Babe, who had been with us since birth and clearly thought we were his, would be moved to people he had never even met.  My heart hurt.  The morning I found out my legs couldn't hold me.  Moving back with his Mom was the goal, but to move to a stranger was something else entirely.  Two weeks of not knowing what would happen.
July - As I sat in the ER with one of my big boys who had taken a major digger in a game of tag, in that waiting room I agreed to mother a newborn girl.  I was told in six months she would share my name.  It quickly became evident that baby girl should be with the woman who birthed her and despite my desire to be her Mom I worked hard to support Mom and her baby.  Our Babe turned one, rolled over, and began crawling, therapy and daily exercises were paying off.
August - I had two sick babies, no sleep, and multiple appointments each day.  The big ones took turns snuggling them with me. Friends sent Strong man and I on a date and deep cleaned the house while we were away.  I gave up my job so I could better love on all the hearts in my house.
September - Baby girl healed, but our 1 year old only became more sick. Because he was sick I missed my brother's wedding.  We spent three days in the hospital hooked up to IV's so he could fight the sickness.  A few days later we said goodbye to our baby girl as she moved to a new home.
October - We took our three boys on a five day adventure, falling into bed exhausted with hearts full each night.  Our first break of the year.  The Babe's case changed, also changing his life forever.  I cried hard for his Momma as I remembered the pain I felt back in the spring.
December - Christmas Eve I found myself on the floor in tears as I learned a dear one I loved had passed.  After we opened gifts on Christmas morning I went, speechless, to sit with my Dad in his grief.  Now as I type, on the 363 day of the year, I sit in bed with my stomach churning, thankful for every hour that passes since I vomited last, doing everything I can to keep the germs from spreading to my loves.

It's been a heavy year.  I have experienced deep fear, and I have chosen to love through all the pain.  It has hurt, and made my soul tired.  Over and over this year I kept hearing, "You are brave."  The first time was from my Sister-friend, she can see deep into my soul in ways others cannot, sometimes she sees parts of me that I don't even see.  Honestly, her words intimidated me.  I didn't feel brave, I was simply doing what needed to be done.  It was my joy to love all the hearts, but it was hard, heavy work. Then doctors who had just met me would stop mid conversation and tell me "I was doing the work of the brave."  Coworkers, family, strangers, over and over I heard it this year: that I was brave.  Every time they said it I wanted to stop them.  I wasn't brave. I was scared. All I was doing was loving people who needed to be loved. I wish I had started doing it years ago.  When my Sister-friend gave me a necklace a few days ago with those five letters stamped into it I finally looked up the definition.  Turns out they were right, I've been learning to be brave, to step into pain despite my fears.  I can't say that this year is a year I wish to repeat, but I can say I'm sure that the only way to truly love is to fully step into the heartache of the one you are loving.

There is no fear in love, because perfect love expels fear... 

We love each other because He first loved us.

~ John, a friend of Jesus

A few joys of 2018:
~ Hearts to love-friends, family, strangers, big hearts, small hearts, far away hearts, and nearby ones.
~ An employer who patiently worked with me, and understood when I left.
~ Friends to help, to cry with, and to encourage me on.
~ Strangers who showed up and loved me.
~ A husband to hold me tight and walk life with me, my best friend, my teammate.
~ Big boys who are willing to follow our lead and love fully.
~ Old friendships renewed.
~ New friendships created.
~ Cub scouts to keep me balanced and playful.
~ A babe who is healthy and growing.
~ Therapists who know what they are talking about, who can teach me to teach him.
~ The flexibility of homeschooling.  As of right now we're a month behind, but we have loved deeply and played hard, life lessons are worth more then keeping a schedule.
~ Kisses blown, and toddler giggles - music to my ears.
~ Dance parties with my boys.
~ Game nights with friends.
~ Sleepy boy snuggles.
~ Date's with my men.
~ Friends who love on my kids while I go to appointments.

Thank you for walking with me

Let's walk a bit.  This path is steep and rock covered, but I think we'll do fine... I have taken in hearts that miss their Momma deeply.  I have loved ones that hide in their room with the door open getting to know us from afar.  Ones that are used to words and fists being hurled at them as they waited for us to do the same, afraid we were too good to be true.  I have held ones that tremble and wail as toxins leave their small body.  I can't even put into words some of the torture and abuse they have gone through, it makes my stomach turn just thinking about it. Life would be so much easier if I didn't know.  I have tended their wounds and hearts.  I have been up late into the night with each of them and I have cried heavy deep sobs as we've said goodbye to some.  I have cried for the pain and fear I see in their eyes and for the pain and fear I have felt myself as their cases take wild turns.  I've been excited to give hope to kids and to make them apart of our family.  Watching them accomplish milestones or conquering school tests has brought my heart the deepest joy I know.  Listening to them tell stories and dream big dreams has been good for my soul.  Giving them normal life experiences and then sitting back and taking in how safe they feel and look being with us.  The highs and lows of this path is extreme.

Now this very minute I am worn down.  My heart is tender, but these hearts are brave, strong survivors.  If they can keep fighting then so can I.  They need somebody to be their voice, to kiss their ouchies, snuggle them to sleep and to love them in a way they have never known.  You have chosen to walk this path with me, thank you.  Thank you for your words, and your prayers.  Thank you for your hands that have held my babies, that have held me.  Thank you for cleaning my house and cooking meals.  Thank you for visiting me in our hospital stays, for getting thrown up on, and for daring to be near us when we were contagious.  Thank you for taking my big ones on adventures and for babysitting while I go to countless appointments.  Thank you for trusting me enough to silently invest into strangers simply because I shared a need.  You have encouraged me with your generosity and time.  You have helped me to see at times that this journey we walk is as hard as I feel it to be and that it's okay to feel beaten down.  You have shown me that it's okay to ask for help.  You have been a strong wall to my family, and some of you I have never even met.  I cannot express how grateful I am to you.

As you've helped and watched us get excited about wins and cry from broken hearts I would encourage you to keep doing what you are doing.  Keep loving orphans and hurting families.  These kids need us.  They need a voice, they need love, they need a family.  You've walked with me, you know it can't be done alone.  As our lives slow for a bit you should find others, keep giving, keep loving, and keep showing up.  You are amazing at what you do. Thank you for walking beside me.  You are a gift that I cherish.  When the time comes I know I can ask you to walk with me again.  Thank you.

To those who were in my house on Saturday,

You who played with my children, cleaned my house, took care of my yard, and pre-made meals for my family, thank you.  Please don't take those two words with a shrug because what you did was nothing short of being the hands and feet of Jesus.  Think about that thought for a moment - Jesus, God-man, the Word, the creator of the Heavens and the Earth, the great rescuer... You did what he lived.  You were being like God himself, following the beat of his heart.  That is not to be taken lightly.  That is a miracle, you are a miracle.

A few years ago as a family we sat down asking ourselves what is the most basic way to be like Jesus.  As we read the Bible we kept seeing the recurring theme going from the prophets who never met Jesus, to Jesus himself and then to his friends which was to help those who need help.  Isaiah the prophet said, "To feed the hungry and help those in trouble.." (Isaiah 58:10).  Jesus said, "Whatever you did for the least of these you did for me." (Matt. 25:40)  James said, "That pure religion is taking care of orphans and widows in their affliction" (James 1:27) These are my three favorite, but over and over we see this theme of helping the weak and needy.  As a family we decided to embark on a journey to help other families.  Knowing that our hearts would break we brought in children and have fully given ourselves to love them.  Not only do we feed and clothe them, but we sing them to sleep when they are sick and snuggle them when they get hurt or just because we love to snuggle them.  While we're feeding them late into the night we pray that some day we can give them back to the ones who birthed them.  We pray that the most beautiful story of all can happen that these small ones we love can be reunited, because isn't that the story of the Bible?  Where humans are separated from our maker and Jesus comes to reunify us.  There is no story more beautiful then this one.  So we decided to dive in and love children, and parents alike so that they can know this same love.

It sounds good on paper, but in real life it is the hardest task I've ever taken on.  Not only as you saw do I get behind with the practical stuff like hands and knees floor scrubbing, but emotionally to love a child as your own knowing that someday you'll say goodbye.  It is not natural yet that is what we have chosen to do.  I give parents my number and tell them to text anytime.  I write notes and send pictures so that they don't have any gaps in the photo albums.  I've even had professional photos done of the kids, and I give gifts of the child's hand prints on Mother's day.  I want to see these parents win.  We don't know what will happen with the kids that have come and gone from our home.  Until a judge decides we have no idea the future and so we love.  My hope is that they reunite with their parents and that we get to be like an aunt and uncle to them, and if they can't reunite that we will be able to give them our last name.  Honestly I have spent the last nine months wearing these words, "No fear in love" on my wrist and will soon have them tattooed there because this kind of love is scary. (1 John 4:18)

Sometimes it's good to get away just with my husband.  Sometimes it's good to have a day without appointments.  Sometimes it's good to just be me.  This weekend you allowed me to do that.  While you loved on my children and helped in practical ways we ate a hot meal without sharing a single bite.  We held hands and sat by the ocean as we talked about life and watched the ducks swim by.  We made jokes and laughed at each other.  We talked about the upcoming school year and what the fall would bring.  It was good and needed.  Our spirits were refreshed.

You have now been added to our story, and these kids stories where miracle after miracle happens.  Where God shows himself over and over in our lives.  Where true life giving love happens.  Where ordinary people, sometimes even strangers, show up just following the heart of Jesus.  So you friend, thank you for saying yes, for showing up, and for loving all the hearts I love.  Your gift will not be forgotten.

Fighting for normal.

Everyday I fight to see.  I battle my own personal demon daily, to get out of bed, to find joy, rest, love and to live on the human spectrum of normal.  After all when you are madly in love with my family, it is a battle worth fighting.

I know I have to put a little extra work into finding normalcy...
When my skin tingles 24/7 because it is fitting just a little too tightly.
When those little annoyance are all you can think about.
When so many thoughts are running through your mind that you can't start a task and complete it until you've started five others just so you don't forget to do those things.
When the idea of running is encroaching on your thoughts.

However, I become truly terrified when I realize that I simply do not care.  The moment I stop caring is the moment I cross the line from normal to insane.  We all joke about being crazy, but I have actually lived crazy and it is a place I never want to visit again.

I'll be honest I've been lazy these last few months.  Even though I forget to eat most meals my clothes fit just fine, but I am finding that my skin is a tad bit snug.

Let the battle begin with simple joys...
364.  Quiet days are work to get caught up.
365.  Husband who help me fix stuff and move shelves.
366.  Two boys that love stopping in at a work.
367.  Coworkers who bring pickle jars home to collect frog eggs in, a gift for my boys but really a gift to me.
368.  Friends to have dinner with, games to be played, and laughs to be had.
369.  Chicks that get excited to hear my voice.
370.  Little boys who adore me.
371.  Quiet nights with my thoughts.

3 weeks

That's how long it's been since I opened my Bible.

My friend and I we sat across the table talking while the snow fell and the wind blew.  We sat until the place closed.  We shared our hearts, the joys and the pain.  We both looked tired and we both felt worn.  In the end we realized we shared the same problem.  We tend to fool ourselves into thinking we can steal time.

Never in the moment.
Never in the here and now.
Always thinking ahead, convincing ourselves it's a good thing.
All the while becoming more tired, more worn, and more lost.

Now it's the first day of my work week, I should be teaching.  Instead I sit in my pajamas on the couch while it snows...Again...You boys play.  I'm more tired and more worn today then I was yesterday, and I was more tired yesterday then I was the day before.  Always trying to catch up.  However, today as it snows, and you play, I choose to sit, desperate to remember the Maker.

My fingers, feeling those pages that seem so foreign, fumble through looking for a start.  I want to be amazed, to remember why Jesus is such a big deal.  I want to slow and see, to know and be known.

I begin on page 817 where four friends pull a roof apart slowly letting a paralytic down in front of Jesus so he can be healed.  Jesus heals.  Flipping the page Jesus heals again, and then again.

I can't help but notice that as Jesus heals, people are amazed, and more go to him and more are amazed, and I sit amazed too.  But how do I find Him and who do I tell and how am I healed?...Because obviously I am broken.

I notice too that He never plans to heal people or find the broken, but they find Him and He always has time.  He says yes to the interruptions.  He says yes to the moment, the here and now.

I hear your feet pounding the stairs as you fly up, stopping next to me so you can look over my shoulder.  "Oh your reading your Bible," you say to me, and away you go taking your younger brother.

I wonder if maybe this morning in my pajamas, here on this old couch because I said yes to the moment, allowing the interruption that I am finding Jesus. Maybe He is healing me, and maybe I am telling you about Him.

This dear boys, is where I'm at.  God is big, and He is good, and I am amazed.

It's all about timing...

Three months ago I quit my job at the Hut, a job I loved, to begin a new one.

Two months ago I lost my grandmother.  With my loss I spent more time back home which I wouldn't have been able to do had I not left the job I loved.

Three weeks ago I was offered a better position back at the Hut that I didn't think I would ever be offered.  With the loss of my grandmother and all the time I would have taken off I'm not sure I would have been given the opportunity for this new position had I stayed. I gave my notice at the new one.

Two weeks ago, on my last day, I was called out of work.  A few minutes later I received a phone call and found myself headed to the Portland hospital to be with my sister and her little girl.

I have wondered at the timing of these past few months.  I've wondered why I my new job just didn't seem to fit quite right.  I wondered at the death of my Grandmother who was full of life just days before her passing.  I wondered at the offer of this other position.

Now that I'm through it, I can see how God used one to lead to the other.  This chain of events allowed me to love on people that hurt so deeply.  I can't help but remember the words of Solomon the wisest man ever to live saying there is a time for everything.

There is an appointed time for everything.  And there is a time for every event under the heaven.

~ Ecclesiastes 3:1

166.  A God who coordinates events perfectly.

When life is altered.

I should have been working but a was called out, a thing that rarely happens.  Instead I used that time to go clothes shopping for some much needed pants, I put off because really I hate it and so do the boys.  As I walked into the changing room my phone alerted me to a text and then it rang.  My sister and her 3 year old were on there way to the hospital, but not the local hospital the largest in Maine.  They were on there way to the pediatrics ICU.  The ambulance that carried them had two doctors ready to save little girl's life if it came to that.  I rushed home, packed a quick bag, and began my journey down.  What I saw when I got there made my gut twist and my eyes water.

Little girl was lethargic, whimpering for water that she couldn't have until at least the next morning.  She had wires covering her.  Her arm in a splint because the IV was so big and her arm too small they feared she might break it.  The IV in her hand stuck out over her knuckles half an inch.  She was too small to be in that bed.  I had to stay focused, she was alive.

And that's the key isn't it?  In all of life but even more so when the daily routine is shattered, stay focused.

Dearest Sister and Brother in law,

Stay focused.  This pain, these tears will be less and less until it is the new norm.  She will run and play without thought to those "pokes".  She will grow, love, have responsibilities, be a Momma, a wife, a friend, all of these things because you kept your focus.  Because you kept your eyes on the big picture; you stayed focused and fought for her life.

That's what Job did: Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I shall return there.  The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the LORD.
That's what Jesus did:  My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Your will be done.
That's what Paul did:  I press on towards the goal for the prize for the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

People looked and stared.
People talked behind there back.
People told them they did it wrong.
People gave up on them.

But they stayed focused on the end game.

Don't give up hope, don't lose heart.  When she says, "please no poke me. No like pokes." tell her, tell yourself that this gives her life.

Decorating her hospital room with paper flowers.

I love you both.  Keep on keepin' on.

P.S.  Tell little girl Auntie loves her.

A week of slowing, day 3, EFA 3.10

Family day is in a close running for the best day of the week, only competing with Monday date nights.  Usually we all wake up spend some extra time in our pj's while we sip coffee and eat cinnamon buns.  This week we all were wide awake by 6:30 some of us had been awake for at least an hour before that.  While the last thing either Strong man and I want to do is wake that early on our family days, we did see a great opportunity to go to our favorite breakfast place.  They have cozy booths, great food served in large quantities with fantastic prices.

We ran some errands catching up on just a wee bit of life and then enjoyed a night with friends.

Gifts:
~ Camp coffee made by our besties, may be the worlds best drink.
~ Little boys who drink the last few sips and a big boy who enjoys whole cups.
~ Friends who bring safety and rest.

~ Summer dinners out on the deck.
~ Friends to share it with.
~ Conversations of the heart and conversations of nothing.

~ Secretly listening into boy conversations.
~ The smell of campfires.
~ The oldest boy a fantastic role model to the younger ones.

~ Laughter's photo eye.
~ Sitting around the campfire.
~ Baby girl being passed around.

 

A man of too many friends comes to ruin, but there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.

~ Proverbs 18:24.

But what of me?

Honest love...honest love...two words that slap me in the face with almost every breath.  Two words that won't be seen side by side any where in the Bible, but then when one puts there heart so painstakingly out there some things don't need to be said but are simply known.  Honest love.  God's love is honest.  No doubt in the mind of any who know Him.  But what of me, is there a doubt in others that I reflect honest love?  I look in the mirror, I see clearly that my love is far from honest, my reflection blemished, and that is when I feel the sting.

I pull out my crayon box in search for the right colors so I can see those God breathed words come together.  My red crayon to remember sacrifice, because isn't that the foundation of love.  With purple I will uncover the heart.  At first I move slow and find my thoughts drifting, but days pass and the pages turn faster and naps end quickly and it's not enough time.  I need more time.  These Holy words need more of my time.  I so desperately need to see. 

Alone sipping coffee the pages turn, crayon marks show me how far I am from Honest Love, the foundation of God's heart.  The more I search the more my religion is torn apart.  This is good, because God hates rituals, and isn't religion just a list of rituals to check off ensuring one has done enough?  Isn't religion just one more caution that God doesn't simply want obedience but wants our love.

Is it a fast like this which I choose, a day for a man to humble himself?  Is it for bowing one's head like a reed and for spreading out sackcloth and ashes as a bed?  Will you call this a fast, even an acceptable day to the LORD? Is this not the fast which I choose, to loosen the bonds of wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free and break every yoke?  Is it not to divide your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into the house; when you see the naked, to cover him; and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?  Then your light will break out like the dawn, and your recovery will speedily spring forth; and your righteousness will go before you; the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.  Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry, and He will say, "Here I am."

 

~ Isaiah 58:5-9a

I'm disgusted.

Mondays are by far my favorite day of the week, for one simple reason: Date night!  Each Monday the grandparents are happy to spend the evening with the littles while we are happy to spend the evening making googly eyes at each other as we talk about where we are as people not just as parents. 

Tonight as we were looking over the Monday night specials I noticed a small piece of paper with this title, "The greatest news ever heard".  The waitress in me instantly rolled my eyes and my mouth spewed out, "Yes it's the greatest news you've ever heard in fact it's so important you won't even take the time to tell me in person."  Out it came, harsh but true.  That's exactly how my coworkers would look at it.  After I tucked it in my purse so our waitress wouldn't have to find it I noticed another one entitled, "Easter basket or empty tomb?"  Now really let's put ourselves in the shoes of a not yet believer who has only heard of Jesus from t.v. and news articles..."Heck ya, I'll take the chocolate and spring colors with children giggling as they search for hidden eggs.  What do I care about a dusty old cave?"...Seriously, you who left that tract, admit it, you hid eggs for your children and let them open there Easter baskets before church just like the "pagans".

...Yeah, I'll just tuck those words deeeeep in my bag so there is no chance of it falling out...

To us who already know the gift of Easter the tract makes perfect sense, but to those who only know Christians as media portrays them:  a people who don't allow women freedom of choice and hate homosexuals, those same words are not going to be seen as a gift but rather more proof they should stay out of the way of Christians.

God wants a relationship with us.  Anyone who is a Christian knows this so why would we take the relationship out of the gospel and think we are doing a great thing for the kingdom when we leave a tract without taking the time to personally show God's tangible love.

Philip ran up and heard him reading Isaiah the prophet, and said, "Do you understand what you are reading?"  And he said, "Well, how could I, unless some one guides me?"  And he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.

~ Acts 8:30-31

Why I cringe at being called a Christian, part 2

The other day I shared this post, part 1. I just laid it out there not sharing my heart, but giving proof of the christian reality of those looking in. I have much of the conversation still running through my mind. So many thoughts so many hurts so many things I want to change within me, as one close to me once said, "I have to be the change I want to see." This one too I asked why he left the church a place he entered each Sunday as a child, unfortunately his response didn't surprise me...

As for the church...I have seen satin occupy the building thus displacing the words spoken. Actions speak louder then words. I forget who said it but I try to live by, to thine own self be true. Basically knowing when I've done right and owning when I've done wrong and realizing that I have to be the change that I want to see, and understanding that I cannot change others only myself and my actions...

In neither recollection of the time spent in "church fellowship" was love, grace, forgiveness, discipleship ever mentioned.

I want to be the change I want to see. I want to be known as a Jesus follower.  I want Honest love.

But if you had known what this means, "I desire compassion, and not sacrifice," you would not have condemned the innocent.

~ Matthew 12:7

Conviction

My fingers were stacking fork on knife to be tightly rolled with a napkin, my mind completely oblivious to there movement focused only on this conversation of the heart when he walked around the corner to fill empty shelves with clean cups. He walked smack dab into our conversation. As the shelves quietly filled, he hears me say, "...To sum up what I'm trying to say is this; I want people to know that I'm a follower of Jesus. But I want people to know I'm real. Those things you said about the religious being legalistic, fake and focused on status quo are all true. That's why I don't like to be called a Christian."

I realize the shelves had stopped filling my eyes shift to find him with his mouth open, our eyes met and words find him, "I thought I was the only one who talked like that. And you, one who is extremely religious to say those things. There must be a problem if you, so convicted, see it too. Wow, I'm in shock...My studies in school are focused on philosophy. I try to stay far from religion, because beliefs when shaken fall apart. There is no foundation to them."

My fingers stop, worried that maybe I had in some way denounced my Savior I quickly answer, "I don't know for sure but I don't think my beliefs can be shaken."

Without missing a beat, "No you don't have beliefs you have conviction. When somebody is convicted it runs deep and is almost impossible to shake. No, what you have is conviction, not beliefs."

The shelves are filled, the silverware rolled and I am alone only with the whirling noise of the vacuum although I don't hear it. Conviction versus belief. How is the word conviction used? Court first comes to mind, as it is the work of my husband after all. Conviction in the court room; the act of finding one guilty. Hmm, I like that. Yes, Jesus, convict me. Show the world that I am guilty of being like you.

Why is it?

Questions from my Bible study:

Why is it that John the baptist who "came neither eating or drinking" was said to have a demon, but Jesus who "came eating and drinking" was said to be "a gluttonous man and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!"? (Matthew 11:18-19)

Why is it that the world instinctively knows they are wicked but the religous feels obligated to point it out?

Why is it that the religious beg for Grace, but so seldom give it?

Why is it that the cities where Jesus did miracles are the same cities that refused to repent? (Matthew 11:20-24)

Why do these questions sound so wrong, so backwards?

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of My mouth. Because you say, "I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing," and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked...Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline; therefore be zealous and repent.

~ Revelation 3:15-17 & 19

Why I cringe at being called a Christian, part 1

Just like when I wrote the post, It's almost midnight but I can't sleep, I find myself in front of the fire as snow quietly falls outside, it's midnight, and I am awake, pondering words of a coworker.

Work was slow, we all did our tasks, but found rest in the first slow Friday since the new year.  As I took the salad bar apart I asked one that I knew had some church experience, "Were you raised in the church?"

I grew up Catholic.  I just didn't like it.  Then when I lived down south I went to a Southern Baptist church, but they were too focused on there possessions, there status quo.  I tried the Apostolic Pentecostal church too.  It didn't matter how strictly I did what I was supposed too, I could never get the holy ghost.  The Baptist, there fake...The phone rang interrupting our conversation, an interruption I was relieved to have as tears were brimming.  The pain and the hurt too much for words.

I just can't move on.

I've shared these words before, but each minute that passes I am more and more convinced that this is how Christianity should be lived out.  As these same minutes pass I am more and more convinced that we Christians do not walk this path, instead we walk the path of religion.  May God helps us.

"More Like Falling In Love"

Give me rule
I will break them
Show me lines
I will cross them

I need more than
A truth to believe
I need a truth that lives
Moves and breathes

To sweep me off my feet, it's gotta be

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance

Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling in love

Give me words
I'll misuse them
Obligations
I'll misplace them

'Cause all religion
Ever made of me
Was just a sinner
With a stone tied to my feet

It never set me free, it's gotta be

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance

Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling in

Love, love, love
Deeper and deeper, it was
Love that made me a believer

In more than a name
A faith, a creed
Falling in love with Jesus brought
The change in me

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance

Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling

More like falling in love
Than something to believe in
More like losing my heart
Than giving my allegiance

Caught up, called out
Come take a look at me now
It's like I'm falling, oh
It's like I'm falling in love

It's like I'm falling
(Falling in love)
It's like I'm falling

Written by Jason Gray & Jason Ingram

 

Is this not Honest Love?

 

 

Honest Love.

Ann Voscamp, author of 1,000 gifts, a friend who has never seen me, but walked with me as I began to see grey until is was thick, heavy, blackness.  Always in my ear she would say, "Eucharist, always grace, always thanksgiving, always joy.  Always."  Some how I survived.

Instead of a new year's resolution she picks a word and spends the year making it hers.  Using it to bring life.  When I first learned of this habit I thought what a neat idea, but I'll never follow through, I'm to easily distracted.  Almost 2 months into this year the phrase "Honest Love" will not leave my brain.  I am finding it and the lack of it no matter where I go.  There comes a point where I have to stop and wonder if maybe God is trying to get my attention.  And if he is, well then, I had better listen up.

My heart theme for this year:  Honest Love.

I have no idea where this quest for understanding will take me but I shall pack my Bible, a notebook and my favorite pen.  I'll throw my hiking shoes on, grab my camera and begin the pursuit of Honest Love.

Make me walk in the paths of your commandments, for I delight in it.

~ Psalm 119:35