Come on over…

…and visit my brand new blog!  I’ve made the move over to Wordpress, and would love to see you there.

www.AdjustingToTheWorld.com

A quick visit with friends old and new.

I typed and deleted and retyped about a dozen different openings to this post, only to settle on this unimpressive opening sentence.

To my faithful readers….hello, and thank you for sticking with me! To my visitors and new readers….thank you so much for stopping by. I cherish your visit and wholeheartedly hope that something you find here blesses you.

It has been so long since I posted anything here, but it hasn’t been because I have nothing to say. This blog evolved in a lot of ways since I began a few years ago, and through that journey God has made it abundantly clear that this is an avenue He wishes to use in my life for bigger things than I have allowed. I’m currently in the process of radically making over this humble blog – upping the ante, if you will – and moving full speed ahead toward what I feel God is leading me to in this life.

There are big things happening in my corner of the world, and I can’t wait for the day when I can share them with you all. In the meantime, know that I’m still working…still writing…and still eagerly expecting to experience God in the everyday moments of life. He’s there. Keep looking. He’ll meet you where you are, and I promise that things will never look the same.

I’ll see you soon.

What is Sown

This morning on the news, I heard that NASA has launched an unmanned spacecraft destined for Jupiter. This craft…it will fly for 5 years before reaching its destination on a faraway planet. Five years! When I heard that, I looked over at my daughter, who – at that moment – was fiddling with beads and wire for the first time in her life.

I looked at her, in her early childhood, and all I could think was, “When that crazy technological wonder of a spacecraft reaches Jupiter, my little girl – this little person sitting here with me – will be nearly 8 years old.”

Something about that floored me, and I kept thinking about what an eight year-old Leah would be like. I tried to imagine her being more grown up than she is now….what her interests might be and how her personality might have developed….but it was very hard to do so. She’s different today than she was yesterday, and I imagine that tonight, when I tuck her into her bed and kiss her goodnight, she’ll be different – in seen or unseen ways – than she was when I took her the first cup of milk this morning. She will, and while ultimately all of her development and life are in God’s hands, I will have played some sort of a role in those changes as they happen.

So five years from now….or five days from now…..what seeds will I have planted in her life that will only then be blooming?

It makes me think. It makes me realize, again and for the first time, that everything I do with her will plant a seed in her life. Every conversation….every interaction….every disciplinary move and early morning snuggle…..everything I do plants something in her.

In a way, as I type that, I think it’s an overdramatic exaggeration. Maybe a little melodramatic.

And maybe it is….but maybe it isn’t. Perhaps not everything I do and not everything she experiences will embed itself into her little heart and mind like a subconscious splinter. Maybe some things will, and some things won’t. How can I say, though, what will and what will not leave a permanent impact on her? How can I know which harsh words will sting for a moment, only to be forgotten in a few minutes….and which ones will echo in her ears and in her heart for minutes and years, altering who she becomes?

When my little girl is either years old, the person she is will, to some extent, be a result of what I have been to her. The things I say to her and the things she experiences with me and the things she sees in me will all meld together to become the bundle of influence her mama had on her. Because I am human, I will not live in constant awareness of this fact. Life will get in the way and I’ll speak without thinking and act without reason. Because I am human, I cannot be who I want to be on my own power. Left to my own devices, I cringe to think what sort of an influence I’ll have on this precious life.

Thankfully, though, I don’t have to live on my own devices. I don’t have to do it myself. I don’t have to be perfect. I can make mistakes and still have a positive influence on her, as long as I point to the Lord as I get back up from my fall. He’ll help me plant seeds that are worth growing. He knows which words will linger and which won’t, and He has the power to grow things in her that I can’t control.

I’m so thankful that as hard as it is, I don’t have to rely on my own power. Really, if I can show her that – that I’m not relying on my own power as I attempt to be who she and God need me to be – then I’ll have planted the most important seed of all.

“For God is working in you, giving you the desire to obey Him and the power to do what pleases Him.” (Philippians 2:13)

Precious Dark Eyes

Belize, from the air

There are three little girls in Belize who have changed my life. Two of them, Jessica and Ingrid, I met during my first trip to Belize last November. The third, Carla, I met this past April as members of our mission team built a home for her family.

I think about these little girls all the time. I talk about them as though they are a daily part of my life. I pray for them, and worry about them as though they were members of my own family. I look at the glass bowl Ingrid gave me – filled with the dried remains of flowers given to me by all the girls – sitting on my kitchen window sill, and I miss the girls so much I could cry.

(L-R) Jessica, Ingrid, and Carla

These little girls have shown me that the world is much smaller than we make it out to be. The Lord has used them to tie me to the beautiful country of Belize in a way that would not happen without tangible, personal human relationships.

I am so thankful for them. I am thankful for their open hearts and their willingness to love. I am thankful for their generous smiles and abundant kisses. I am thankful for their affection that says, “Yes, you are sweaty and not very attractive right now, but I love you just the same.” I am thankful for their willingness to welcome me back after an absence of several months. I am thankful that they see fit to call me their “best friend” because of something as simple as a hug and a smile and a promise to pray for them.

There is just something about those girls that has changed me. When God sat Ingrid and Jessica behind me in church on that first humid morning in November, He knew that they would serve as a tool to soften my heart somehow. He knew that their dark eyes would speak to my soul, and that their little voices would echo in my mind as though He Himself had spoken audible words to me.

I am so thankful that God uses unlikely people to do unlikely things, and that God saw fit to bring these precious girls into my life. I can’t wait to visit them again.

What a difference a word makes.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1-3)

Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing. (1 Thessalonians 5:11)

After a couple of years (!!!) of living a somewhat sedentary lifestyle, I’ve recently bitten the bullet and started a new exercise routine. It’s no big thing, but I’ve really been enjoying it and actually look forward to my workouts in the evenings. It’s been a good thing, and I have no plans of quitting any time soon.

Other than the simple enjoyment of the exercise, I’ve felt motivated to continue because the other night, my husband said he could notice the physical effects of the exercise. (Read: the lingering effects of pregnancy might actually be fading away.) His compliment was unsolicited, enhancing its weight and making me feel very, very good about myself. Knowing that my exercising (and the slight changes in my eating habits that always seem to accompany any change in activity level) is making a difference, I am even more driven to continue. Even when I don’t feel up to exercising, knowing that 1)it will make me feel better mood-wise and 2)I’m reaping some visible benefits as well…hard to explain, maybe, but it makes it a lot easier to change my clothes and get moving.

As I thought about how my husband’s words made me feel, I was reminded, too, of similar unsolicited compliments I’ve received recently and in the more distant past. The most meaningful compliments are always those that come without provocation, and those that concern things I’m especially conscious of and am working on.

For example, when a friend told me awhile back that I seem much more easygoing than I used to, I was thrilled. Over the past few years, as I have beaten my anxiety to a pulp with much prayerful labor, I’ve become pretty self-conscious of my past and lingering anxious ways. It’s not something I wish to maintain, so any progress I make toward a more complete trust in the Lord and a more peaceful existence is considered a victory, however small. Feeling that progress is one thing, but hearing that others can tell a difference? Incredible. It’s enough to make me want to do a Rocky-esque dance at the top of whatever staircase is closest. It’s empowering to know that our work is yielding results. It’s encouraging to know that our progress is not imagined. It’s uplifting to know that we clearly aren’t where we used to be, but are moving toward a better version of ourselves.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on this, and am realizing that I have never been very good at paying compliments to others. Knowing how good it feels to receive a compliment, I don’t know why it is hard for me to pay it forward, but it always has been.

I’m working on changing that, especially in reference to complimenting people on things that really matter. A casual remark of “Oh, I really like your shirt today” is easy enough, but commenting on how someone’s character has been affected by their growing relationship with the Lord? That’s more difficult, yes, but imagine how it would feel to hear those words!

Walking with the Lord is hard. It requires honest self-examination and diligent effort, clinging to Him and allowing Him to change things in ourselves that we might be very, very attached to. It is slow going sometimes, and sometimes, we can lose sight of our goal of becoming more Christlike. Sometimes – on days when we hear angry, bitter words coming from our mouths and don’t know where they came from, or when we find ourselves in the desolate cell of familiar sin – we may not feel like we’re making any progress whatsoever and that it just isn’t worth the pain and effort. The world (and our spiritual enemy within it) loves to make us feel that we are standing in place and that our efforts are futile. The Lord, though, speaks empowering words of truth….sometimes through other people.

What if we all looked for ways to encourage each other as we move from our old existence into life with Christ? What if, when fruits of the Lord’s beautiful Spirit become visible, we were more quick to point those things out than we are to draw attention to the flaws in our brothers and sisters? What if words of genuine words of praise flowed freely within our communities?

What if? I think the answer to that “what if?” is that we would all be encouraged to keep going. We’d all see that we are making progress…or that the Lord is making progress within us, and that while we may feel as though we’re standing still, we’re actually creeping toward the life He has for us.

(I’m reminded here of what I’ve always heard about tornadoes: When they appear to be standing still, you are directly in their path because they’re coming straight for you. The illusion of stillness sometimes means that the movement is most urgent. Does this mean that when we don’t appear to be drawing any closer to where we’re supposed to be in relation to the Lord, we’re actually right on track? Perhaps…. That’s something I’ll be thinking on over the next day or so.)

I’m really challenging myself on this point. I want to be an encouraging person…not just so that people enjoy being around me, but so that the Lord is using me to draw people into the life He has for them. No, I cannot push people down the path toward righteousness, but I can encourage them from the sidelines. I can let them know that yes, they are getting there. Yes, I can see the Lord in them. Yes, He is working, and yes, it’s worth it to keep going.

Unmerited compliments don’t do anyone any good. Compliments that come from an awareness of real progress, though…compliments that remark on the fruits of the Spirit emerging from someone….those are edifying to the body of Christ and are glorifying to the God who makes them possible.

Something to think about. I know that I am.

Repurposed

Leah and Scott in the pool…..just one of the diversions occupying my time these days.

It’s been awhile since I wrote publicly. I don’t know if anyone out there has missed my words, but I have certainly missed the process of getting those words down on “paper.”

The break was never planned. They rarely are, I find, and are most fruitful when they come about on their own rather than after planning and purposing. This has been a time of reflection and pursuit of other things. It has been a good thing – an opportunity to see myself and life with fresh eyes – even if I have missed my old dusty blog and the arduous (at times) process of straightening out these muddled thoughts into something that makes sense. I’m back, though, if only for now.

Over the past few weeks, the Lord has been working in me to show me something….what, though, is still somewhat undetermined. I’ve been dealing with the fervent conviction that I am somehow missing the mark….falling short of what I could and should be in my personal life. As often happens to me, one area of my life will be blossoming and blooming and yielding fruit of all colors and sizes while another area of my life seems to wither. I could theorize as to why that might be – whether one causes the other, for instance, or whether I’m made aware of imperfections in one area to keep me humble while another area of life threatens to swell my ego – but the truth is that it happens, and when it does I have to deal with it.

I’m embarking now on a journey of repurposing myself in my roles of wife and mother. I’ve felt convicted of ways I might be selling myself and my family short, and have finally decided it’s time to do something about it. In a staff meeting a few weeks ago, my pastor said (in reference to something unrelated) that sometimes it’s time to just grow up and do what we’re supposed to do. Those words have burned in my ears and on my mind; I think now is the time for me to grow up and embrace who I should be to my family. It’s time. No more excuses. No more distractions. Just prayerful pursuit of the woman I was made to be.

So my husband and my daughter, by no choice of their own, are accompanying me on this journey and will, hopefully, enjoy the trip. We all may never reach the ultimate destination, but hopefully we’ll get to see the target growing closer on the horizon as we travel together toward the life we’re meant to live as a family.

I don’t know what kind of vistas we’ll find on our way, but I’m eager to share the process with all of you. Maybe my trek toward more purposeful living will inspire similar changes in your lives as the intentional lifestyles of friends have inspired me. Either way, I’m glad to have a venue to share my thoughts along the way.

Because sometimes, learning is messy.

I am not the mom I always assumed I would be.

One of the best ways for me to explain what I mean is to show you this picture:

That is my daughter’s PlayDoh. Four colors of it, to be precise….in only three blobs. With specks and flakes and pieces of different colors scattered throughout. Plus, what you can’t see, is that this is my kitchen counter….and that this scene continues unto the floor and the breakfast stools.

I never, ever thought I would be okay with that, but somehow I am. Somehow, God has done something in my heart that makes me okay with the everyday messes and hundreds of inevitable cleanups that come each day. Something in my Type A, obsessive, “everything must be just so” heart is okay with this.

I think, really, that I’ve realized since my daughter was born that sometimes, learning is messy. It just is, and if I want her to learn, she’s going to have to have the opportunity to make a mess here and there…or all around. If she’s going to learn to make elaborate PlayDoh shapes and discover what different colors do when they mix, she’s going to have to make a mess.

If she’s going to learn to help me with supper and set the table and pour things into the mixing bowls for me, she’s going to make a mess sometimes. The table may not look perfect, but she’s learning. (And really, I think she does a pretty terrific job for a two year old.)

If she’s going to learn to use the big girl potty all on her own, there are going to be times when I find inordinate amounts of toilet paper unwound across the bathroom floor, with her standing nearby saying, “I got too much, Mommy. Made a mess, too.” That’s okay. I’ll just wind it back up and congratulate her on her progress…because today, maybe, she doesn’t use quite as much as yesterday, and anyway…she made it to the bathroom in time. Mess or no mess, she’s learning.

And that’s okay.

I always imagined somehow that I’d be a mom who cringed with every mess, dying a little inside with every piece of strawberry that landed on the carpet or every spoonful of banana bread batter that splattered on the counter or every pile of tiny toys that littered my kitchen floor. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and that somehow, I’d have the one child in the world who never, ever made a mess.

I don’t know how the change was made in me, but I’m thankful that it did. I don’t have the neatest, cleanest child in the world (though she’s far from being the messiest, I’m sure), and I’m able to love (nearly) every moment of her mess-making as she grows and learns. I’ve come to understand, too, that if I obsessively clung to the cleanliness of my home, I would miss a pretty amazing illustration of how God “parents” me.

You see, now that I’m a mom and this change has happened in my heart, I understand that sometimes, learning is messy. Sometimes a child has to mess things up a little in order to figure it out. Sometimes it’s the mess itself that teaches her something, and from dealing with it – whatever it is – she might be better off.

God knows that’s true with me, too. He knows that in the mistakes and the crashes and the ungraceful stumbles of my life, that has been where I’ve grown the most. Every time I have messed up, there has been a part of Him that cringed because He didn’t like to see me fall….but a part of Him knows full well how necessary those bruising calamities are in teaching me and helping me to grow.

No, the messes I make don’t usually involve spilled food, but are usually of a more serious nature. A harsh word spoken to a family member, perhaps, or a responsibility that I have shirked in favor of my own leisure. They look different than the typical messes of a curious and exploratory toddler, but are no less important in my development into the woman I was created to be.

My own relationship and walk with the Lord, for example, began as a result of one of the biggest stumbles of my life. The incident hurt….tore my inside up….brought on more tears than I’ve ever cried before….nearly took everything from me….but from where I’m sitting, I’m thankful for it. I am sincerely thankful that God allowed me to make that mistake, crashing into an ugly pile of wreckage on the inside of my heart. Without the debris from that calamity…without that mess…I definitely would not be the woman I am today.

God knows that sometimes, learning is messy. He could have made life clean and neat and easy (and originally, He did….but we messed it up and that’s an entirely different blog post). He could have made the lessons easier to learn and less painful as they healed, but He knew that sometimes, learning is just messy.

It has to be, and it needs to be okay. It needs to be okay with us, because it is okay with Him.

So, no. I am most definitely not the mom I always thought I would be, and I’m grateful that I’m not. I think this mom is better than that one would have been. It’s more fun, anyway, and I think there’s some pretty good stuff in it for my daughter, too.