My personal theme for 2014

I like themes.

My kids' birthday parties always have a theme. My family draws names for Christmas then we designate a theme. To be honest, I might even be a bit obsessed with the "theme" theme of my life.  I really like to have a theme.

Themes help me stay focused.  They give me a filter through which I can look at the world - or at least a given scenario.  I like my theme to be something short, easy to remember and preferably pithy.  I want it to be something that can pop back into mind when things get foggy.

As I was devising a theme for the upcoming year I was drawn to the ironically simple word "Simplify."  Good grief, if simplifying was that simple, I wouldn't have been thinking about, stressing over, and guilting myself into "simplifying" for the past year.  I. just. can't. do. it.

I keep trying to simplify.  To purge the stuff we've acquired in our 800sq. ft. apartment.  To clear out the clutter.  To have a mail system.  To stay on top of papers and toys and clothes and books and dust and... It is SO desirable to me to simplify.

And simplifying has, for me, proven to be painfully complicated. Where do I even start?

So as I pondered my theme for 2014, I said "of course it is 'Simplify'." But I couldn't convince myself.  Something just wasn't right about it.  So I took a minute to process why I kept stalling out on naming my theme. Here's what I discovered are my hurdles to the "Simplify" theme:
1. Fads fade.  I don't want to jump in head first to something, read all of the constantly shifting material, and then burn out within the first couple of months of purging because I didn't have a real, substantive purpose behind it other than that it sounded good at the time.
2. Every expert has an opinion on how I should go about it. If I just Google "How to Simplify" I would come up with blogs and articles and books and podcasts about a thousand different ways to start, a billion different DIY projects that somehow make my life simpler, and a world wide web's worth of mental clutter for me to sift through and see what sounds the best for my unsimple self.  Talk about overwhelming!
3. I could (and would) compare my simplification to your simplification, because everyone's simplification successes are posted.  I love Pinterest and Facebook.  I really, really do. But I just can't add one more area of potential envy and jealousy to my already overwhelmed and stressed out heart.  I need a theme that helps me get motivated, not stuffs me inside a hole afraid to crawl out because I haven't simplified enough yet.
4. I've always rebelled against trends. I blame this on my homeschooled upbringing, but seriously, look in my closet and you will see that I am always unwilling to embrace a fad until it has begun to wane.  Then I usually get it on Clearance. This isn't a weighty downside, but it's true, and must therefore be considered.
 5. I wanted something that God, not others, would walk me through. Because it is a trend right now there are many people offering valuable insights, but I don't want to rely on anyone other than the Holy Spirit for this process in my life.  I want to depend on Him fully to walk me down the road of letting go of my cluttered life to embrace the freedom He has to offer me.

So no, my theme is not "Simplify". But worry not - I have a theme that has lit a fire under me and I am so excited to see how God moves in my life and shakes my world over the next year.

My theme: "What Is Needed?"

What clothes are needed? What tasks are needed? What words are needed? What does my husband need? What does my first child need? Second? Third? What do I need? 

This is my filter.  I've begun sorting through closets asking, "which of these toys are needed?" I've looked at my to-do list and said, "what needs to be done most?" I've bitten my tongue because I took a second to filter if my words were really necessary. I've sent my husband a text I thought he needed to receive, and guess what - he thanked me for taking the time to encourage him with those words.

I'm only three weeks into this year - into this theme - and you know what? My life is starting to feel a bit simpler. And I'm getting excited to see what else I can pare away so that what is left in my life is what really needs to be here.

7 Minutes with Falling Water

This morning I had 7 extra minutes after I finished my run.  The outside track at my gym is incredibly beautiful (a pond with a fountain, trees, picnic tables, etc.), and the rocks and waterfalls beckoned me, so with 7 minutes to spare I took the invitation and climbed the small mountain to sit on one of the boulders and just be.

7 minutes in that quiet - no kids, no people, no laundry, no e-mails, no Christmas even.  I sat mesmerized by the movement for a few moments, and then something struck me and, true to form, the Lord taught me truth.

The water at the very top of the falls seemed perfectly still.  I mean, perfectly still.  I couldn't see it move at all.  Really the only way I knew it was moving was because the waterfall had to be coming from somewhere.  After the water passed from the top pool that seemed so still, so calm, it fell down a number of feet, hitting many rocks along the way, until it churned white foam into another pool.  And then it flowed dutifully through that calm but flowing pool over some more rocks, dropping quickly into the pool below.

The stillness led to chaos, which led to stillness. Sounds familiar.  Hello, my life.

When we visited Virginia a couple of years ago I took Nate by the home where I grew up.  My parents have since moved to a different house, and I had not had the chance say my goodbyes to my home of 24 years.  We pulled up to the curb and stepped out so I could walk the streets where I had drawn so many hopscotches, ridden my big wheels, shoveled the snow, and [memory] and [memory] after [memory] (they do tend to accumulate after 2.5 decades).  As we stood there in the night looking at the lights inside, the cat in the window, the cars in the driveway, I just started to cry.  Sure, I think a part of me was just getting gushy (I'm a hopeless sentimentalist), but I think the biggest part was saying goodbye, not to the house, but to what that house represented for me - that simple phase of my life.  It was now officially over.  My life no longer consisted of roller skates and handstands in the yard, but my sister's cancer, my homesickness from living so far from family, my sleep deprivation from being a new mom.  Life had gone from being so simple, so still, to what felt like a freefall.

We've had some easy times since then.  We've had some crazy times since then.  More easy times.  More chaos.  Never that same stillness I had as a child. 

I thought about these things and how well they were reflected in those waterfalls, and I dwelt on these words:


Deep calls to deep
    in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
    have swept over me.

By day the Lord directs his love,
    at night his song is with me—
    a prayer to the God of my life.

               ~ Psalm 42:7-8  

"That's my life!" I thought as I watched the water flow.  Stillness. Madness. Stillness. Madness. And all along the Lord has directed His love to me.  Even when all of the waves and breakers felt like they were sweeping me away, His song has been with me.

After my 7 minutes were up and I walked down the stony path to leave, I watched the water fall over the rocks, and a the very bottom, I saw something breathtakingly beautiful - stillness again.  At the very end of the water's journey, it smoothed out one last time, and so it remained.  

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ⁴He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

             ~Revelation 21:3-4

I'm not sure how many different falls there were, how many different pools, how many fierce rapids, or how many eddies.  What I can tell you is how still the water was at the top, how very busy it was in the middle, and how still it ended.

And so, in 7 minutes this morning, God reminded me of Hope, of Peace, and of my future after this madness is done.

Maranatha.

The Rock Higher than I

I need something to rest me feet on.  At this moment they aren't so much exhausted as they are shaky, unsure.  I need something strong and secure.  I need a rock.

My husband has been in emergency room for the last 7.5 hours, and since we have two small children I wasn't able to go with him.  All that I know about his visit is what he sends me through texts, and since he has a scientific background AND he's hearing the doctor's words first-hand, I'm sensing there's a disconnect between what he intends to communicate through his texts and what I read.  

I hate that I can't be there with him.  I hate that I don't know what's really going on.  More than that I hate that even if I was sitting right beside him and knew exactly what was happening, there's nothing I can do to fix it.  He is out of my control.  Today, that truth stings.

I've said that ever since we started dating.  "He belongs to you, Lord.  Our marriage belongs to you.  Our kids belong to you.  Our life, our possessions, our future - they are all yours."  But when I'm actually faced with that reality, I'm finding it much harder to keep my knees from buckling beneath me.  

As I searched for words this morning while I prayed for my husband who may or may not be very sick I just kept asking the Lord to lift me above this and put my feet on something of which I can be sure.  I needed Him to put me on the safe and strong higher ground.

   Hear my cry, O God;
Attend to my prayer. 

   From the end of the earth I will cry to You,
When my heart is overwhelmed;
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. 

   For You have been a shelter for me,
A strong tower from the enemy. 

   I will abide in Your tabernacle forever;
I will trust in the shelter of Your wings. 

                      ~Psalm 61:1-4

"Lead me to the rock that is higher than I." Good gracious, I love that.

I love that God is our rock.  There are so many wonderful word pictures for our Savior, but today this is the picture to which I cling, because today I need that strength. I need that security. I need to know that what I'm standing on is immovable, despite the winds and the waves and the rising waters.  

As each moment passed during my day, as each hour  moved on to the next, anxiety begged me to let it take over.  It tried to choke me with fear and stifle me with the unknowns, but God, in His good, good grace, reminded me of the rock on which I stand.

I don't know what tomorrow holds.  Honestly, I'm not even sure how today is going to turn out.  But I do know God is good.  I know that He is strong and mighty.  I know He is far, far above this storm.  I know that I can plant my feet on Him.  He is a sure and steady anchor.  He is my rock. And He is far higher than I.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.

      On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
      All other ground is sinking sand;
      All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness seems to hide His face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

      On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
      All other ground is sinking sand;
      All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.

      On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
      All other ground is sinking sand;
      All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.
      On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
      All other ground is sinking sand;
      All other ground is sinking sand.

Maranatha

I've always loved the word "Maranatha".  It has such a beautiful flow to it, and it just sounds so rich.  I've never really been able to use it, though.  I've never liked what it means.

"Come, O Lord."

I've never quite been ready to say that.  I like my life.  I always have.  Sure, there have been super hard parts - things I would much, much rather do without.  There were days in junior high that I thought I'd be better off dead.  I have a lot of memories I wish I didn't have.  I've cried more tears than I hope to ever cry again.  I've held people in pain both in their hearts and in their bodies.  But none of it has ever been bad enough that I would wish for this life to end and the New Life to begin.

I know I should want that.  I know my hope should be in the soon return of Christ, but I just have too much to look forward to.

I wanted to get married.  I wanted to have kids.  I want to see my kids grow up.  I want to see my family members come to know the Lord.

But finally today I said "Maranatha" and I meant it.

My friends hurt.  They hurt in ways people should never have to hurt.  They hurt in ways that I have lived my whole life dreading that I, myself, would hurt, and there is nothing I can do to fix it.  Why?  Because this world is broken.  That's just the way it is.  And until Christ comes again, this world can never be right. 

I'm out of tears tonight.  My prayers are starting to repeat themselves.  I still can't fix the pain in my dear friends' hearts.  And more than ever before in my life, my heart yearns for things to be right.

Come, O Lord.  Maranatha.