If I believe…

If I believe then I must trust.

And why should I doubt;

Since he did not spare even his own son but gave him up for us all,

won’t he also give up everything else

Romans 8:30

I’m having some trust issues. I know because I’m uber worried about the future.


I also know that’s pointless. Life is meant to be lived moment to moment, which resonates with my bohemian heart. But my worry prone mind won’t seem to still.

Marriage and children teach you real fast how little you know and how much you don’t control.

i must trustBut I have faith, a hope in a confident future and I wasn’t meant to stay in this season forever.
So I cling to the promise, especially when I have reason to doubt.

And I try to remember to punctuate the surprises with hallelujahs.  After all, His timing is perfect, and He knows more than I do.

  • J

Some Beasts Die Hard

While this was written awhile ago, February (which is National Eating Disorder Awareness month) seems the appropriate time to post it…

It’s been awhile but I cried hard yesterday. Hard and ugly at the bottom of the shower- my safe place, my old solo silent refuge.


Wishing I had something to throw up, to literally purge my body of this feeling. To find some control in a beast that lies dormant, never leaves.


But it was 6am and a blessing I’d only had coffee and  an angel held my dripping, heaving body from falling down that slippery slope again.


some beasts die hardSome beasts die hard.


And so I sat and cried.


I sat heaped and felt the heat and gazed at pictures through steamy glass. At peaceful smiling faces, a façade I’m living in.


And wondered if others’ photographs sometimes felt as fake.


The irony of a perfect moment captured on film and sent into the world as the face of this “perfect life.”


Smiling faces, embraced, leaning into one another, trying and enjoying, but hungry for so much more.


So hungry I want to throw up.


Maybe you’ve never experienced that dichotomy, I’m sure most reading this haven’t. …the opposite action to fill up a soul thirsting.


A struggle as stupid as it is real.


And there’s not a happy ending to this short blog, just some shower confessions. Some raw ponderings and a thankful heart for just coffee before 6 am.


And four little arms and sticky hands to keep perspective. Too keep grounded.


To keep trying despite the hunger.


And a God bigger than this beast.

  • J

I am a Leper

I love the movies…getting lost in a dark theatre and a good film.  So, I was lucky to be able to go with my mom this weekend to see Risen, which is about Christ’s resurrection through the perspective of a non-believing Roman soldier, Clavius.  (I would highly recommend this film.)

There was one scene that  really connected with me.

Towards the end of the movie, after Jesus has risen, Clavius is with the disciples in Galilee. Clavius asks the disciple (I can’t remember which) if the disciple really had believed that Jesus would rise again.

The disciple replied honestly that he had had his doubts, which prompts Clavius to ask him why he had even followed Jesus then.  At this point, a scene unfolds of Jesus healing a leper.

The disciple responds that this is why.  I interpreted this as it was the miracles that led this disciple to follow Christ.

While I have seen God’s hand, I couldn’t help thinking that this isn’t why I follow(ed) Christ.

Mine is still the leper scene, but for a different reason:

When Jesus walks to the leper, who has just been beaten, shooed out, completely rejected by the people, Jesus goes and kneels by him.

Not just BY him, though.

RIGHT next to Him.  Completely within his personal space.  Jesus basically envelops him.  Completely wrapping himself around the leper.

He cradles and strokes his face.  He holds him tight.

Then, Jesus tells the leper to go if he believes.

This is it.  This is why I follow Christ.  I am the leper.

It is not in the miracle or the healing.

It is in the intimacy and comfort of the loving arms of my savior who sees me, the diseased and broken leper.

He sees my need for Him, but also sees me as worthy (though not deserving) of salvation.

He sees my need for purpose as He tells me to go in faith.

I follow Christ because I am a leper in desperate need of His loving arms enveloping my broken soul.

  • S

Raspberry Cobbler and Lipstick

It doesn’t matter how old I get some things are just right and good and important.

Sitting on the kitchen counter watching my gramma make raspberry cobbler, one hand in a cookie jar, one hand on a mason jar of tea, will always fall into that category.

And despite the fact that I’m 28 and peruse Ulta and Sephora at leisure (at least online when the kids are asleep), there is still magic and mystery in her makeup drawers.

And despite knowing from 28 years of experience that some shades only 60 year olds can pull off, I absolutely must try at least 3 shades of lipstick in one day.

And the vials of perfume leave me smelling of her and I secretly love it – even though its hard to breathe for a moment.

And there have been times I’ve got my feelings hurt and not understood their ideology or ranking.

grammaBut I can’t seem to say no to blue gill fishing with a can of corn or balancing among her roses.

And even from states away ,every Little Debbie Brownie takes me to one kitchen. And my love of coffee started with her lap and sugar milk. Something sacred and sweet.

And there is no real spiritual message here, just a reminder to slow down and savor moments. And when you grow up,  go back to the places and people who love you.

And don’t forget that sometimes grandparents are the magic of up north.

  • J

A Voice in the Night

I’ve always been drawn to the story of Samuel.  A boy who heard a voice calling in the night and, after a few times, realized it was God.  His response was perfect and humble.  “Speak, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:10)

He didn’t ask questions or favors.  He waited for God.

Samuel dared to believe that what God had to say was far better than anything young Samuel could ask for or imagine.” from Daring Faith devotional by Nicole Reyes

Wish by Christian Schloe

God please close all the doors except the one that leads me to where you want me to be.

I don’t want to go through a different door that seems right, seems good, or even just acceptable to my limited self and brain.

I want your perfect will.  I want to hear your voice louder than my own.

So, like Samuel, “Speak for your servant is listening.”

  • S


More than an Instrument

Sometimes I focus too much on the doing.  I “Marthasize” too much – focusing on the action for God.

This is important and necessary.  I believe God does call us to an active faith, to be His hands and feet.

However, He also requires “Mary time.”

aa10028514d86f390dfebc9cde861e2aTime where we simply praise and worship Him.

Time to sit at His feet in wonder and gratitude.

Time to be completely overwhelmed as we sink into the depth of His love for us…despite our unworthiness.

Time to build and revel in a relationship with our Father…building and clinging to our identity in Him.

“We are not saved only to be Instruments for God, but to be His sons and daughters…He does not turn us into spiritual agents, but into spiritual messengers, and the message must be a part of us.”  (My Utmost for His Highest)

  • S

Another Thursday

At the right time, I the Lord, will make it happen. Isaiah 60:22


For all my rushing, I change very little. For all my speeding around, the same cars surround me. And my running up the stairs and out of the house and the cyclone of dust forming…it brings no glory to God.


He has a plan, a will, everyday is from him. The ones with too much laundry and dishes and irrational meltdowns (both mother and child) – these days are from Him.


How would the world, my world, change if I could keep this perspective past sunrise?!


Longer than one meltdown. If I could remember every moment is a choice, to choose God’s way or Satan’s.
It’s based on my reaction, and if I keep perspective that these hard moments are opportunities to praise Him, our home could get a whole lot brighter.


thursdayI often get stuck in a rut of Thursdays, waiting for Friday, for the climax, for God to reveal His big plan, big ministry. When will I get it’s the season of littles?


Thursday is as good a day as any to spread a little love, react a little less aggressively, have a little more fun…


Talitha Kuom- little girl wake up!


This is it. This, today, Thursday of nothing filled with tiny everythings.


This is your calling.


Maybe one day there will be more, but it doesn’t get holier than loving children. It doesn’t get holier than pouring your soul out for your family, than being your husband’s biggest supporter. That is holy work.


This mundane difficult Thursday is my Holy life, and His holy timing, and my rushing about wont change any of it.

  • J