something out of nothing: how He moves us

Our thoughts turn into prayers, and I don’t know if they were our thoughts first or His. But when our thoughts are His thoughts, our prayers become reality because He is such a troublemaker sometimes.

something out of nothing: how He moves us

There was no railroad there now, but someday the long steel tracks would lie level on the fills and through the cuts, and trains would come roaring, steaming and smoking with speed. The tracks and the trains were not there now, but Laura could see them almost as if they were there.

Suddenly she asked, “Pa, was that what made the very first railroad?”

“What are you talking about?” Pa asked.

“Are there railroads because people think of them first when they aren’t there?”

Pa thought a minute. “That’s right,” he said. “Yes, that’s what makes things happen, people think of them first.”

– Laura Ingalls Wilder, By the Shores of Silver Lake

Two years ago I wrote a list of things I would do if I had more time – all the millions of things we couldn’t do because Vince commuted (and did all of our family shopping) for almost 60 hours a week – and none of them were ambitious. They were pathetically in the vein of survival mode.

Find a therapist for one of the kids. Attend FreshStart with one of the other kids. Read all the books and watch all the videos and resources and trainings for our kids’ special needs. Buy pajamas for Finnegan, and get a haircut, and start putting effort into cooking better meals again. Clean the bathroom, and eat breakfast before noon.

Most of them never got done. Well, sometimes I cleaned the bathroom. And the older kids learned to cook.

Many of those things, looking back, I wish we could have done somehow. Seems like we would have benefited from them, but for crying out loud, we must breathe sometime. And there was no time.

We wanted to be together more, and together less. We needed one-on-one time with each of the kids and each other. Vince needed to be home more for the kids, and I needed to be out of the house more for my own sanity.

But other things were on that list, too. We both wanted to be more involved in ministry. I wanted to visit my grandma more often. I wanted to write daily, and study, and not feel guilty about it because there was always something else I should be doing.

I wanted to finish the books I’d started. And Vince did, too.

And maybe you noticed – I purposefully left that goal vague when I wrote it, unsure if I meant the books I’d started reading or the books I’d started writing. Because I wanted both, but was afraid to hope that big.

It was a someday-but-probably-never kind of daydream.

Until about five weeks ago.

What results is almost miraculous. We create new alternatives – something that wasn’t there before….What is synergy? Simply defined, it means the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. It means that the relationship which the parts have to each other is a part in and of itself. It is not only a part, but the most catalytic, the most empowering, the most unifying, and the most exciting part.

– Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

Five weeks ago, Vince went back to work after taking a month off to finish some backburner projects we’d been praying about for years. On the last day of his vacation, we closed on this house. And we felt strongly that even though he was going back to work, it was only temporary.

We had no idea how it could possibly be temporary; we only knew that God had been talking to us for a long time about a big move and it didn’t just mean our physical location.

We asked Him for years for this move, and He finally said, How bad do you want it? If I give it to you, will you really take it?

The next day was the day of the fridge and the frenulum, and in that post I mentioned a phone meeting with our insurance guy. What I didn’t mention was that during that discussion we learned that a smallish, forgotten nest egg we’d plugged away at for years had actually made itself useful.  And God asked us, Do you believe Me now?

The creative process is also the most terrifying part because you don’t know exactly what’s going to happen or where it is going to lead. You don’t know what new dangers and challenges you’ll find. It takes an enormous amount of internal security to begin with the spirit of adventure, the spirit of discovery, the spirit of creativity. Without doubt, you have to leave the comfort zone of base camp and confront an entirely new and unknown wilderness.

– Stephen R. Covey, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

And it’s sort of like when we got married: We eloped, but we talked to my dad ahead of time. Just like then, Vin was a little terrified to tell him, but also just like then, Dad was full of encouragement and good counsel. He said, in so many words, you have to take the risk to know if you can make it.

So, friends: Vince has worked for the same company for 21 years, and he put in his notice this week.

We’ll be home together, out and about together, and working together and separately. His first book is already off to the editor and should launch early this summer. My second book is a month or two behind his (can’t wait to show you the cover!), and the third should come out this fall.

We have a kid who’s on his last year home with us, and we want to do this thing together. We have six other kids we want to make great memories with, and we want to show them what’s beyond the fifty mile radius around us. We haven’t ventured past that in over five years.

We have a bazillion other ideas involving print and publishing, business and ministry, fellowship and community, deep and wide. But mostly, we are available for whatever He has for us, because He is always making something out of nothing. And He’s still moving us.

daylight savings: finding time in the riot and the resting

Daylight savings threw us off again like it does every year, and the mornings are bright again – snow melting off roofs and pouring down eaves, gravity gathering it into puddles at the lowest common denominator.
daylight savings: finding time in the riot and the resting
Inside, the surfaces are covered in books, videos, craft supplies, and science materials, the products of last-minute school orders to meet our school’s deadline at the end of March. Stacks of books cover the coffee table and overflow onto the floor by the couch, waiting for us to be done perusing long enough to commit each one to their own shelf space. And I’m a little nervous looking at them, because there’s another stack of books right there – the ones I’m already in the middle of – and they’re staring at me.

“Can you believe it? Look at her opening up those new recruits already. She only read five pages outta me last night.”

“She hasn’t looked at me in a week,” mutters another one.

“Please,” Les Mis sighs. “She’s been working on me for over two years and still has 251 pages to go.”

It’s true. If I were better at book hoarding ordering, I’d bust my tail to finish a few books while waiting for an impending order to come in so that when they get here I can look at them guilt-free.

But there’s been no time. Over the last few weeks, the bathroom floor was torn apart and put back together, the water was turned off and turned back on again, the heat was messed up during an inspection and then put right again, all the repairs were finished, and we closed on the house. During those same weeks, we wrote (and edited) 160 thousand words for three projects. Vince took the month off for that purpose, and it was a blissful hurricane. But still, there was almost no time for reading.

And on a perfectly normal day (feel free to insert hysterical laughter over the reckless use of “normal” in this sentence) when he went back to work, we (and by “we” I mean one of the kids, absolutely not me, I had nothing to do with it) broke a shelf in the refrigerator door, spilling its contents all over the floor, but it was no big deal, mostly just glass and raspberry jam over broken kitchen tile, piece of cake, no biggie, and I didn’t even realize how disturbing it looked until I texted Vin a picture of it and he immediately replied, PLEASE TELL ME THAT’S NOT BLOOD.

It wasn’t. Jam, I told you.

The kids kept Finnegan out of the kitchen while I cleaned the mess. By the time I was wiping up the last shards with a damp paper towel we were almost in the clear for the day, but he skidded around the corner, slipped and fell, and tore his – ready for this? – frenulum. Yeah, I didn’t know what that was, either, but it’s the little attach-y thing between your upper gums and top lip. I made frantic phone calls while he was bleeding to two medically-experienced friends, and also learned that it’s a super common injury and generally heals without stitches.

I sent Vince a photo of it, too. He texted back, Oh, that. I’ve torn that plenty. Once knew a guy who cut it with scissors on a dare. To which I immediately replied, PLEASE TELL ME IT WASN’T YOU.

It wasn’t. But this is why his life insurance is almost four times as expensive as mine – because men are ridiculous.

The cost of life insurance was fresh on my mind because I had an appointment scheduled with our insurance guy that day, but somewhere between the fridge and the frenulum he called to warn me about possibly needing to cancel our appointment. An injured moose was in his backyard, and he was on the way to meet the troopers to assess if it needed to be shot and subsequently butchered – because Alaska is also ridiculous.

Like I said, just a normal day. No time for reading those books.

These are our seasons: phases of ebb and flow, resting and rioting, constantly overlapping each other. Usually our routines follow a schedule like the tide, but sometimes we go through a shaking – one area brooks a tidal wave, and its gravity sucks our time and attention away from everything else.

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

– Matthew 10:34, ESV

He was talking about the contrast between the Kingdom and the comfort zone. It’s like Jesus was saying, Spoiler Alert, it’s going to get messy. Get your Xtra Tuffs on.

But this is the same Jesus who said:

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.

– John 14:27, ESV

Just for extra credit, I checked the Greek and He uses the same word for “peace” both times. But I checked the word for sword, too, and it’s the same one used when referring to the sword of the Spirit (aka the Word of God), here and here.

So we have peace, a sword, and the Word of God, and they merge together as events rock our world, sloshing us around like water in a stormy sea. He is always the anchorage in our unrest. He brings our peace through hearing Him, which leads to heart-wholeness, and this heart-wholeness, this calm we carry in the shaking, is the weapon we use. It wields wisdom, humility, maturity, truth.

He brought peace to men, not the earth, and the logbook of our days proves it. Today, for example – the only road from the Valley into Anchorage is shutdown from an 18-wheeler taking out an overpass, effectively turning Palmer and Wasilla into Hotel California – you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave…

In lieu of taking the seven (yes, seven, seite, onetwothreefourfivesixseven) hour detour, Vince opted to stay home for the day, resting in the riot. I mean, from the riot. But really, who are we kidding.

We’re using it as found time to help a kid through some tough-love heart issues, and to get some house projects done, and yes, to finish some books – but nope, probably not those school books. We’re wrapping up edits on one project this week before sending it off to the next phase…because books, too, have seasons, and they are also ridiculous.

P.S. Finnegan also learned to use voice-to-text this week, but fortunately he sent it to Vince. It read: PPQQRO HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING ARE YOU VOICE TEXTING WHAT DOES IT SAY WOW

True story. And, here, bonus – a frenulum.

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the party of deep and wide: nurturing an atmosphere of growth

My friends, here’s what I’ve learned over the last month or so:

The key to overcoming a fear of public speaking is to do it early in the morning, before you’re lucid enough to know you shouldn’t be standing in front of a bunch of people. Inhibitions are pretty low when you’re semi-conscious.

the party of deep and wide: nurturing an atmosphere of growth

It seems to be working. When I first heard about this class, I was torn between two gut urges.

One: God has been nudging me about speaking for the last couple of years, and this is an amazing opportunity to pursue it.

But also, two: Speaking in front of people and getting up early are equally miserable endeavors, akin to eating octopus while listening to terrible 80s music. Why would I put myself through that?

I almost didn’t. Too much work, too many things already going on, way the heck too early. I wasn’t sure I could operate a blinker that early in the morning, much less speak coherently in front of people.

But I knew I needed to. And when I argued with God about waiting until next year when the class was (maybe) offered again, He shot back, Hey Love, do you want to wait until next year for breakthrough, too? Oh yes, He did. So I stopped whining about it and signed up.

It’s something He’s told me to grow in. And growth is what we’re called to.

It’s a crazy vulnerable thing, though, standing in front of people, giving them your voice and your content, offering your perspective. It’s similar to writing here, but different in its aloud-ness – our very presence, standing in front of others, hoping they will be kind and gentle as we try not to make an idiot of ourselves.

But it’s a safe place. The people in there with me are old friends and new friends, and we all need encouragement, feedback, and grace. We’re not competing; we all want to do this better. Because none of us wants to look like an idiot when the time comes to be vulnerable.

We do the same thing with our social media, our relationship with people, our attendance in church, our efforts toward some Big Thing, or our approach to Jesus:

We clean up a little first. Not everything, of course, but just enough to look better than we are at the moment when inspiration strikes.

I should post that picture on Instagram…but I’ll straighten up the couch first.

I should go to church next Sunday…but I should try to stop swearing by Friday, first.

I want to invite those people over to dinner…but first, I need to rearrange the living room.

I want to write a book, but first I should brush up on grammar and spelling.

I’d love to reach out to that group…but they are more fill-in-the-blank (spiritual, educated, attractive, funny, gifted, whatever) than I am, so I want to be a little more fill-in-the-blank, too, first.

So I can fit in. So I don’t disappoint. So I’m good enough.

The internet is currently loaded with trendy articles about how ridiculous our culture is, haranguing the insincerity of a superficial society that merely puts up a good front. And to some degree, they’re right. Some of it is ridiculous.

But, you know what else? It’s normal. And…it’s also moderately healthy.

Record scratch. Yep, I heard it, too.

Hear me out. It’s not the insecurity or the desire to inflate our ego that is healthy. It’s the desire to grow, to be better than we currently are, to always pursue improvement. If our efforts are sincere and genuine, and not simply a façade to impress others, we are on the right track.

Do we only clean our house for our Instagram photos, or are we genuinely trying to be a better homekeeper, and this is part of our efforts?

Do we recognize we should behave better on a day-to-day basis, or are we just putting on a show around certain people?

Are we trying to prepare for a big new step, or are we just putting it off?

Are we inspired by others, or just trying to impress them?

Are we compelled to greater things by our friends, or are we just competing with them?

The articles and media try to fit us into one of two opposing camps: the unpretentious hot messes versus the polished, have-it-all-together types. But none of us are that black and white – we all excel in certain areas while faltering in others. We are pushing through challenges and learning.

I propose we draw a new party line.

We are the party of deep and wide: Growing. Leaning further in our giftings, and stretching into unfamiliar territory. Looking at ourselves with a holy discontent, grateful for our progress but not satisfied with the status quo. Humble, genuine, imperfect, and refining daily.

This is the camp most of us actually fit in. The culture can try to pit us in factions against each other, but we don’t have to step into the ring. We’re too aware of our own growth to point fingers at the lady who has spit up on her pants – or to raise our eyebrows at the lady who ironed perfect creases into hers.

We’ve heard that Jesus loves us as we are, but He’s not content to leave us there. Our own desire to do more, be more, know more, grow more, is something we’ve inherited from Him. It’s what He wants for us, too.

So we fumble our way through, hoping those who see us will be kind and gentle as we try not to make an idiot of ourselves. There is so much to learn.

The real human division is this: the luminous and the shady. To diminish the number of the shady, to augment the number of the luminous – that is the object. That is why we cry: Education! Science! To teach reading, means to light the fire; every syllable spelled out sparkles.

– Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

Let’s be the people who cheer the efforts of others instead of projecting our insecurities onto them. Show us the amazing meal you cooked, and tell us how it took you four times before you managed to get the cornstarch to thicken correctly. Tell us how great your kids are, and also the ridiculous way you had to remind them not to suck their underwear up the vacuum hose. Give us your church notes with messy handwriting, your gorgeous living room with imperfect furniture, your efforts at reading classic lit and your struggle to follow the intricate plot.

Show me your artwork, your craftsmanship, the amazing new technique you’ve been trying to perfect. No shame, no apologies to the peanut gallery. No internet lectures for showing off because you’re more gifted in this one area than most of us.

I want to see that project you nailed, and how you killed it at your last performance. I want to see your victories because they kindle more of mine.

It’s only our insecurity blending with resentment and jealousy – expressing itself in the disdain of judgement – that keeps us from cheering others on, just as it inhibits us from growing more in our own deep and wide.

On a bad day when my own struggle boils to the top, frustrated beyond sanity at fighting special needs behaviors and broken pasts, I admit that I probably won’t want to see your child’s perfect certificate of achievement when one of mine spent the morning feigning confusion between the letters L and J (and he is confused, but not about the letters). I promise the madness will pass and I’ll be in my right mind again shortly, soon enough to praise your victory. Because when we’re not in competition with each other, it’s my victory, too.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.

– Ephesians 4:15-16, ESV

We can be genuine while still inspiring each other to press on and be greater as we grow through this together.

So post your mess-in-progress. Don’t apologize for where you’ve pulled it together. Show us where you’re still stumbling, trying and fumbling, stretching out in your deep and your wide. We’re called to growth, and this is your party.

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This is an excerpt from Work That God Sees: Prayerful Motherhood in the Midst of the Overwhelm.