Dearest Little One...

 *In the really hard moments of surgery recovery (Feb '18), I would dream of a future as a mom to help get me through the pain. Picturing having Littles to love as my own would bring a bright spot into the really dark moments. In one of those times, I wrote a letter to my future child, to help me remember that there’s a very important reason I fight day after day to recover and grow strong. There’s a reason… and that reason has a heartbeat.*

*Image found on Pinterest

My dear Little ~

We haven’t yet met, but my heart longs for the day we do. 

I eagerly anticipate the moment when we’re blessed to call you ours.

What a joyous day that will be!

Of you, Dear One, I dream.

Of packing diaper bags and having wet wipes always on hand.

Late night feedings and early morning snuggles.

New baby smells - both the “mmm” and the “eww”.

First smiles, first giggles, first steps, and first falls.

Bath time splashes and bedtime stories.

Days filled with finger paint fun and glittery chaos.

King-of-the-couch wrestling matches and tickle wars.

Dress up fun and fort-making adventures.

“I love you, Mommy!” and “Watch this, Daddy!” in innocent voices.

Dancing around the kitchen and rolling in the yard.

What will you look like?

Will you have blue eyes? brown? green?

Will your hair be straight, curly, or a mix of both?

Blonde? Brunette? Red head? 

A gap in your teeth? A cowlick in your hair?

Who will you be?

Will you grow up and soar through the clouds like Daddy?

Will you be like me and find happiness amongst animals?

Will you want to join sports? dance? debate?

Will you prefer big crowds or time alone?

For you, Sweet One, I pray.

That you fall in love with Jesus as a child and spend all your days pursuing Him.

That you see beauty in each person you meet, knowing they hold great value and worth.

That you stand up for Truth even if it means you’re standing alone.

That you know who you are and, more importantly, Whose you are.

That you would be kind and strong, gentle and fierce.

That you would live with wisdom and integrity.

That you would seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.

That you always {a.l.w.a.y.s.} remember you are wanted and you are loved.

I don’t know you yet, but I know you’re going to be a world-changer.

Just the dream of you has already changed mine.

I want to know you. 

I want to hold you and watch you grow. 

I want to comfort you and cheer you on. 

I want to give you roots, but also give you wings.

I want to lavish you with love and watch you flourish.

So when I’m weary from the decades of enduring this chronic battle, 

I’ll remind myself of this:

For you, Precious One, I fight.

With all my heart,

Mommy

{ one year post surgery }

*Welcome to New York*

One year ago today I was sitting in a New York City hospital awaiting laparoscopic surgery. February 22nd, 2019. It was the next step in my battle with this chronic illness. A step we hoped would help discover what’s wrong with my body and why it’s on constant “attack mode” against me. We prayed things would start to get better.

I had a plan to write a whole series about it, giving you a behind-the-scenes look into the journey leading up to the big day. I was going to share with you: 

- the slightly amusing moment (slightly amusing looking back now, that is) when my husband couldn’t get through the Detroit airport security because we hadn’t realized they’d kept his driver’s license when we checked our luggage earlier. Oi vey.

- the somewhat frustrating moment when our Uber driver couldn’t find us at the New York airport because we were on the lower level and he was on the upper, causing him to be much later in picking us up than scheduled (which is sort of a big deal when I’m drugged and worn out from the strain of traveling.)

*Waking up after surgery

- the worrisome moment when the New York doctor’s office told us that the Indiana doctors didn’t do all the pre-surgery testing that is needed and without specific information from those tests the surgery wouldn’t be performed, leading them to scramble to get me into a local doctor that day.

- the scary moment when I was given the bowel prep medicine that came with a flood of memories of the trauma I’d endured each time I’d taken this medicine in the past.

- the terrifying moment when I was once again woken up by one of the worst health attacks of my life, brought on by the aforementioned meds. I don’t have the right words to describe the sheer terror I live in during those moments, fully convinced my body’s going to kill me.

- the absolutely beautiful moment when, above my cries of pain, I hear Dad going to war for me in prayer; when, through eyes that are hazy from hurt, I see love staring back at me in Momma's eyes; when, in the panic and fear, I feel the strength of my husband as he holds me up and keeps me steady. When, in a truly terrifying moment, I recognize that I am incredibly blessed by Love.

I had a plan to write it all out ( and I probably still will.) But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks became months where I saw no actual progress or change, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the message I wanted to share - “the surgery helped improve the quality of my life!”  To say that would be a lie, Friends, because the truth is, aside from a few new scars on my body, I wouldn’t even know I ever had the surgery to begin with…

*The new marks I'll forever wear...

Being a #chronicwarrior is exhausting. Enduring daily pain. Battling never-ending nausea. Constantly being tired. Eating a ridiculously limited diet. Fighting to not need the meds. 

The past two weeks have been especially hard. For some unknown reason, my body has been on a downward spiral, leaving me in tears and, in the toughest moments, wondering what the purpose of me even being here is. And then I came across this verse via Instagram the other day and it just kinda soothed my heart:

“But me, I’m not giving up. 

I’m sticking around to 

see what God will do.” 

Micah 7:7 MSG

Me? I’m not giving up. The medical field may continue to disappoint me, but they’re only human. I’ll continue to put my trust in God and stick around to see what He’s going to do. I can look to the future with hope because I know He is faithful and His love sustains me.

So here I sit in my living room, one year after the day I had surgery. Here I sit, still in pain and fighting in each moment. Here I sit, with sleeping dogs surrounding me and singing birds serenading me. Here I sit, another day in this gift we call Life.

And while I may not have the message of improved health to share, I do in fact have a message: God is good & that will never change.

*Groggy from pain meds, but so in love <3 

{thankful} for the scars

*So I’m thankful for the scars,

‘Cause without them I wouldn’t know Your heart.

And I know they’ll always tell of who You are,

So forever I am thankful for the scars.

*PC: thefunnybeaver.com

The first time I heard those lyrics, my heart leapt and my mind shouted, “YES!!” The author of these words could’ve plucked them straight from my brain because this is exactly how I feel in regards to all the health crud I daily deal with.

I hate being sick.

I hate the constant pain.

I hate never knowing what’s coming next.

I hate the levels of innocence I’ve lost due to this.

And yet.

I can honestly tell you that I’m thankful for it all.

*Darkest water and deepest pain,

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

‘Cause my brokenness brought me to You

And these wounds are a story You’ll use.

As far back as my memories go, there’s pain and nausea, anxiety and discomfort. 

That’s not to say I didn’t have an awesome childhood, because I did. I grew up in a stable home, with faith laid as a firm foundation. I was surrounded by farm-life pets, spent days playing with friends in the dirt, and began and ended each day knowing I was loved. We had our ups and downs because, hey - that’s life. But overall, I loved my growing up years.

The illness was just a constant companion through it all. As I grew, it seemed to do the same, until 2010 when it became so big that, at the age of 21, I was convinced I wasn’t going to survive it.

Truthfully, there was a part of me that didn’t want to. Because is a life really worth living if it’s only able to be partially lived? 

I wanted to be put into a medically induced coma until the doctors could figure out what was wrong and fix it. I yearned for an escape from the constant pain.

I didn’t want this life.

I didn’t want to be this person.

I didn’t want any of it.

I begged and pleaded for God to take it all away. In yells and in heart-whispers, I cried for deliverance. I questioned why this was happening to me, I doubted His plans for my life. I felt forgotten and overlooked. I accused Him of taking His eyes off me, of allowing too much to pass through His hands and to enter my world.

As my mind warred with all the feelings the situation was causing, my heart tightened its grasp on Him. The foundation of faith I’d grown up with stayed firm and I clung to His Truth. Despite everything my situation was telling me, I refused to believe my God had abandoned me.

All the railing, the questioning, the crying out - it was a child seeking her Father’s reassurance. I knew the feelings were fleeting - they would change and morph as time would pass, but His Truth would remain the same. And God wasn't scared of my feelings, but rather He welcomed my honesty. 

So I sought Him in the scary times and on the dark days. And He met me right where I was.

He gave me personal reminders of His love for me.

He called me out of the wilderness of my thoughts.

He gently wooed my heart to a place of Peace.

He told me my story would be used to glorify Him.

And as the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months to years - He proved Himself faithful over and over again.

*Now I’m standing in confidence,

With the strength of Your faithfulness

And I’m not who I was before.

No, I don’t have to fear anymore.

I don’t want to live with this chronic illness, but I’m at a place of Peace knowing that God is using everything I’m walking through to advance His Kingdom because I’ve surrendered to Him.

I want to live the story the Great Author is writing, not constantly be trying to wrestle the pen from His hands.

What the enemy intended for harm, my God is using for good. I want to be a light shining bright for Him. I want to tell the world of His goodness and faithfulness towards me. 

I want to teach little feet to follow in His steps, for He will lead them on the path of Life. 

I want to share with the ones feeling forgotten that they are loved with an unfailing Love. 

I want to step into people’s dark moments and dispel the shadows of lies with His Truth. 

I want to give an infusion of Hope into the lives of those feeling hopeless.

I want to encourage broken hearts to beat to the rhythm of the Father's heart.

*I can see, I can see

How You delivered me!

In Your hands, in Your feet,

I found my victory!

I want to share my story, the raw and genuine truth, so people can see God’s beauty amidst the ugly stuff. The beauty of Him standing beside a hospital gurney, weeping at my pain. The beauty I experience when I curl around a heating pad and He curls around me. The beauty I see each time I make it through another attack.

I want to share my story, the happy and the heart-dance moments, so people can see God’s beauty amidst the pretty stuff. The beauty of a husband who stepped into a life with me, despite the uncertainties of my health. The beauty of discovering more of what He’s calling me into. The beauty of a future I didn’t think I’d be alive to see.

My life doesn’t look how I thought it would when I was a little girl, but oh, what a beautiful life it’s turned out to be!

Maybe you’re at a similar place to the one I found myself in. The place of despair because this isn’t the life you wanted, the life you dreamt of. Maybe because of uncontrollable circumstances or maybe because of the choices you made. Either way, Friends, the Truth remains the same: it’s not too late. 

Before the world began, God looked and saw you, He knew you and loved you.

In 2019, God looks and sees you, He knows you and loves you.

Nothing you do will ever change that. So go ahead - take a step of faith, trust Him with whatever you’re facing, and allow Him to change your perspective.

Maybe your scars are from physical wounds, things you’ve undergone that left a visible mark upon your flesh. Or perhaps, like me, your scars are more internal. The things you’ve faced have left their mark etched upon your mind. Though invisible, these scars are still very real.

I leave you with a thought to consider: what the enemy intends for harm, God is able to use for good… will you let Him?

*So I’m thankful for Your scars,

‘Cause without them I wouldn’t know Your heart.

And with my life, I’ll tell of who You are,

So forever I am thankful for Your scars.

*Photo found on Pinterest

All lines preceded by an asterisk (*) are lyrics from I Am They’s song, “Scars”.

~ the end of a decade ~

Dearest Twenties,

It seems impossible to me that our time together is drawing to an end. How has it already been ten years?! It feels as though we just met the other day and yet, here I sit writing you a goodbye letter. I think time sped up on me without my consent!

How do I put into words all the emotions I’m feeling today? The excitement over meeting Thirty and seeing what adventures we get up to together. The sadness over leaving the comfort I’ve found with you behind. I feel a bit out of sorts with this change happening once today rolls into tomorrow and tomorrow becomes my new today. Thirty is coming to take your place whether I feel ready or not.

You and me, we’ve had quite a ride these past ten years, my friend. Filled with hills and valleys I wasn’t sure we’d survive and hairpin turns that left my brain spinning with their swiftness. Sometimes it seemed we were unstrapped in a tilt-a-whirl with no way off the ride, despite my begging for it all to stop. Oh, the things we encountered along the way…

At the start of our journey, we picked up an unwanted passenger, Sickness, causing us to make visits with Betrayal and Heartache. While Betrayal’s visit was swift, Heartache has continued to flit in and out of our life over the years. And that pesky Sickness has made itself quite at home {but I'm praying it gets an eviction notice soon!}

We also met Peace in the midst of raging life-storms, when it made no sense for it to even be there. We met Hope that helped brighten a seemingly dark future when Sickness was really being a bully. We met Joy that gave us strength for the hard times, a way to smile and press on despite the pain.

We met Love… so much Love. We encountered it in the Father’s heart towards us, even when we felt so very undeserving. It broke through the walls Shame & Guilt were trying to build around us, introducing us to Freedom & Grace instead. It showed up in the support of those closest to us, the ones who stayed true when others walked away. 

And Love showed up in the heart of a man, JRB. [Out of all the people we met during our time together, Twenties, he’s my favorite.]

We sure have encountered a lot of Love.

*Photo found on Pinterest

Oh, the things we’ve done this past decade. The experiences we’ve had, the paths we’ve traveled with loved ones. The good, the bad, and the in-between. I’m learning to be thankful for them all.

Hospitals. Musicals.

Weddings. Divorces.

Funerals. Births.

Hellos. Goodbyes.

New adventures. Daily routines.

Among the clouds. On the ground.

Crowds. Solace.

Silence. Speaking.

Crying. Singing.

Weakness. Dancing.

Laughter. Tears.

Confusion. Trust.

Worry. Peace.

Doubts. Faith.

Hurts. Forgiveness.

Hate. Love.

Acceptance. Judgment.

Broken. Healed.

The list could just keep growing as I take my trip down memory lane. Soon, the memories I’ve made with you and the photos taken to document them will be all that's left of our time together. And I’m learning to be thankful for that too. Because, even though I’m sad to see my time with you end, Thirty is an adventure I didn’t think I’d get to take. So to be here, on the verge between what is and what will be, is an incredible place to be!

To you, Dear Friend, I extend my heartfelt thanks for this amazing adventure. It wasn’t at all what I envisioned my time with you would be, but I’m thankful for each moment - the good and bad alike. 

Thank you for the lessons you taught me: 

to keep fighting and never give up, 

to keep dreaming and dream big, 

to keep loving like I’ve never been hurt,

to embrace “but if not..”,

that there’s beauty in surrender,

to choose His will over my own,

& Love wins.

I will carry the wisdom gained during my time with you into the next adventure, to help me continue growing into the woman He’s called me to be. Though our portion of my story must soon end, I’ll forever hold you in my heart. Thank you for giving me some of the greatest moments of my life. I won’t forget you…

Onward I must go. I sure hope Thirty is ready for me!

Love you big,

Me

*Photo found on Pinterest

The Story of Her Smile

There’s a story captured in this moment here - 

A beautiful reminder that I need not fear,

A promise and Truth for my heart to hear:

Life’s storms may come, but the rainbow always appears.

Oh, my soul, be at peace - your God is near.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I had a random urge recently to change my computers background image so I went hunting through my laptops photo gallery. As I scrolled through the many life moments I had captured, I came across the above picture and I got stuck there. Something about this moment wouldn’t let me keep scrolling.

I hesitated to choose this picture because of the poor quality of the image, but then I got sucked into my husband’s eyes and I suddenly didn't care if it was blurry or not. And then there’s the visual proof of how good my guy makes a beard look… 

And then I glanced at the woman sitting beside him.

Then I sat there and stared at her.

There’s a story in her smile and I need to remember it.

You see, the me in this picture - the me who’s smiling and appears to be happy… would you guess I'm experiencing high levels of pain at that moment? And by that I mean, I was in so much pain that each breath hurt. And yet, I'm smiling.

This picture was taken at a concert in Toledo, OH back in February of 2017. I was struggling to recover from my latest chronic attack. I was existing on a couple bananas eaten over a three-day time span, causing me to be extremely weak. My whole torso was screaming at me, sending shots of pain throughout my system on top of the steady throbbing I was already experiencing. I felt depleted of all energy, not real confident in my legs’ ability to support me. And all I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position and escape the world for a little while.

But the tickets had been purchased, the hotel rooms booked, the plans made. So I traveled with my husband and parents in faith, praying I wouldn’t relapse while we were gone. Every single moment of that trip hurt, but you know what? I wouldn’t go back and change my decision to go {and not only because I met Danny Gokey while we were there!}

There’s something beautiful about taking a risk. Scary, even terrifying at times. But beautiful nonetheless. Because when I step out in faith with no clue how it’s going to work, when I allow myself to be completely dependent on Him to carry me through - I've found that’s when I often encounter God’s love for me at a whole new depth.

When I step out and then get out of His way, He never fails to move.

Maybe you’ve been there. 

Or maybe you're there now.

The pain is too intense, you don’t know how to move. The bills are too big, you don’t know how you’ll pay. The relationship is failing, you don’t know how to fix it. Your loved one is slipping, you don’t know how to catch them. 

The goal is too far, you don’t know how you’ll complete it. The dream is too crazy, you don’t know how to reach it. The calling is too great, you don’t know how to fulfill it.

Life can be so overwhelming at times. Everything seems so big that our vision becomes eclipsed by it. We can’t see around it, above it, below it, or through it. The storm clouds are so dark, we can't imagine ever seeing a rainbow again.

It’s in those moments, those dark and hopeless-feeling moments, that something truly beautiful can be found. Because it’s in those times we get to choose to experience the beautiful surrender.

Surrender of our fear. Our doubts. Our worries.

Surrender of our pride. Our selfishness. Our way.

Surrender of all that we are to all that He is.

His love will never fail us.

He can’t be less than good.

He remains faithful in our struggles.

And He’s working out His plan for us.

All we have to do is trust.

                           ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You see me in the picture above, smiling and seemingly happy.

That’s because I am…

Despite all the pain and hurting, I know I am blessed.

Despite whatever you’re facing, so are you.

Do you have a picture of a moment that can serve as a reminder of this for you?

{If so, can I see it? I would so love that!}

The struggle doesn’t define me and it doesn't have to define you. The enemy would have us believe that lie, but we get to choose: complain or rejoice. Curse Him or bless Him. 

Be bitter or be thankful. Scowl... or smile.

" A cheerful heart puts a smile on your face..." - Proverbs 15:13 TPT

*If you're interested in reading more about what I learned from this chronic attack, check out my post "Artist at Work"

{ where are you? }

I went down to the altar to meet You, but You didn't seem to be there.

I tried to see You amidst the crowd of Your followers, but I couldn’t find You.

I let one of Your children pray for me anyway.

And then I walked back to my seat, wrestling with disappointment and frustration.

I wondered why I even bothered going down in the first place.

The outcome wasn’t a surprise.

I still wasn’t healed.

Why, God? Where are You?

A man who loves You asked us to be still.

To make ourselves open to encountering You.

We asked You questions and awaited Your response.

Oh. There You are, Jesus…

*Photo found on Pinterest

              ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Above is a jumbled mess of thoughts I experienced while at a concert earlier this year.

During the event, Big Daddy Weave’s lead singer, Mike Weaver, lead us through an encounter with Jesus. In doing this, he had us think of two specific moments in our lives - 1) a moment when we felt joyful and 2) a moment when we felt despair. He then encouraged us to ask Jesus where He was in those times.

To explain the second moment for me, the bleak moment in my life that was dark and hard, I need to first give a little back story for those who may not already know this about me.

In 2010, I became extremely ill. Over the course of a couple months, my life got flipped upside down: my diet dwindled drastically, my pain increased tremendously, and I dropped 40lbs which really freaked me out. None of the doctors I saw knew what was going on and, frustratingly, they didn’t seem to take my issues seriously. They just kept trying different meds to mask the symptoms rather than discover and fix the problem. I was often left feeling like I was merely a nuisance to them.

One of the medicines they decided to try was to be taken right before bedtime. So I followed the doctor’s orders, took my first pill, and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, I was awoken by pain the likes of which I can’t adequately describe. In short, I felt like a hole had been punched in my chest cavity and my insides were ripped out, leaving behind a gaping chasm of fiery lava. 

Mom called 911 and I was rushed to the ER via ambulance. The doctor there kept asking me what I had taken, telling me he couldn’t help me until he knew what was already in my system. I kept replying that I only took the doctor prescribed pill and begging him to help me, but he was convinced there was something else I had taken - too many sleeping pills or some sort of recreational drug and/or illegal substance. 

As I lay in the emergency room cubicle, I was 100% certain I was about to die. Me: dead at 21. I knew the doctor wasn’t going to be able to stop the pain in time and that my heart wasn’t going to withstand much more. And because of the severe pain that I was in, I was okay with it. As I laid there, I prayed what I now call my goodbye prayer. I told Jesus that I was ready to be with Him - if it meant I’d be free of the pain, then I was ready to die. I very clearly remember asking Him to give Mom the strength to walk out of the hospital without me and to comfort her as she made the call to my dad and siblings, letting them know I was gone.

I knew I was going to die. I don’t say that for dramatic effect. No, I was fully certain that there was about to be an Andi-shaped hole in my family’s world.

That moment, laying on that gurney in the icky hospital room in Arkansas - that’s the moment that came to mind when Mike told us to think of a bad day.

My immediate follow-up thought was, “What am I doing back here, God? We’ve already talked about this day. Aren’t we done with it?” I then tried bringing a different moment to mind, but that darn day wouldn’t make room for any other to form in my head. 

So when prompted, I said, “Okay, Jesus… where were You?”

And y’all, what I saw… oh boy.

I was there - laying on that gurney and writhing in agony. The doctor was on my right side, questioning me over and over. And in reality, it was Mom on my left side, holding my hand - in the vision I saw Jesus there instead. He was bending over me with His left hand resting on and covering the burning hole in my chest. And He was weeping over me.

Not polite, silent tears. Weeping.

To see Him so moved by my pain that it brought Him to tears ministered to my heart and my faith in huge ways that night.

By seeing that vision, He opened my eyes and gave me a realization that I had unknowingly been living with the belief that Jesus is sorta indifferent to my pain. Not that He doesn’t care that I’m in pain and not that He doesn’t love me, but because He knows the end of the story, He’s not really affected by the moments leading up to it. He knows the exact moment that my healing will manifest, whereas I’m left in the waiting of Unknown. 

In reflecting on the experience and pondering what God revealed, this is my conclusion: a part of how I came to believe Him indifferent to my pain stems from how I’ve felt at times after people have prayed for me. There are times I’ve left a prayer service feeling condemned and as if it’s my fault that I’m this way. There are times I’ve walked away with a confused heart, not understanding why my mustard seed faith wasn’t good enough. And there are many times that I feel guilty and like I’ve let the dear ones praying for me down when they say amen and I’m still not fully healed. Somewhere in the midst of all that, the enemy planted the little seed that I unintentionally nourished - because surely He must feel indifferent, otherwise He’d have been moved to heal me by now… right? {Thank You, Father, that You tear down lies and reveal Truth!}

I needed that moment with Jesus. I needed to see His tears on my behalf. 

First, because it brought to light a lie that I was unaware of, allowing me to repent of it and to break its hold on me. Second, because we’re once again searching for answers amongst the medical field, fighting to have more tests run and refusing to settle for “everything’s normal” and “you’re fine”. This all makes me super nervous ‘cause the tests tend to bring me more pain than I’m already in. 

He knows exactly what I need for the days ahead. And because He can be no less than good, He gave me that moment at the beginning of this journey to encourage me and strengthen me.

*Photo found on Pinterest

Wherever you are, Friends, I believe He’s right there with you and that He wants to do the same for you. I believe He longs to meet with you and that He desires to minister to your hearts. I encourage you to find a moment today and just be still. Shut out the distractions of the room and let your mind go silent for a short bit. Close your eyes and focus on Him.

There in the silence, when it's just you and Him - think of a good day. A moment in your life when you felt pure joy, a moment that was made for happiness. Do you see it? 

While the memory plays out behind your eyelids, ask Him: Jesus, where were you?

Do you see Him? If you can’t see Him, do you sense Him? He's there...

Now, let the opposite moment come to mind - think of the bad day. The day when the hurt came, the moment when your world was flipped upside down. Let that moment fully form in your head. Do you see it? 

Once you have that moment in mind, ask Him again: Jesus, where were You?

Do you see Him? If you can’t see Him, do you sense Him?

I pray today is a day where you encounter Him, Friends. And that you find Him in all of your tomorrows.

                    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Thank You, Jesus, that You are a Friend Who delights in our happy moments. Thank You that You dance with us in the sunshine and find joy in the beauty of our laughter. And I thank You, Jesus, that You are our ever present help in times of trouble. That You are our faithful comfort and strength. I thank You that You do not shy away from our hard times, nor are You scared of our pain. You enter into it with us, You endure it by our side. You are good and kind when life seems anything but. I thank You for showing up to minister to our hearts, for meeting each of us right where we’re at. I give You praise and glory for Who You are and for all You do for us. May we continue to encounter You in our daily lives, knowing that You are with us every step of the way, the good days and the not-so-good ones too. We love you, Abba. Amen <3

Enduring Faith {part 3}

It’s so easy to get wrapped up in our daily lives, isn’t it?

There are groceries to buy. Laundry to do. Gas tanks to fill.

Another work day to get through. A friend-date to look forward to. A kids program to attend.

The floor needs sweeping, the dishes need washing, and *gag* the toilet needs scrubbing.

We accomplish one thing only to accumulate three more, it seems! It’s never-ending, this to-do list of life. They’re not bad things {although I’m not sure I’d label toilet scrubbing under “good”} just time-consuming.

Or maybe it’s more accurate to call them mind-consuming…

Growing up, I was taught that this world is temporary and should never be my focus, but to instead keep my eyes on Him and the things that hold eternal value. To not get bogged down in the stuff that will one day fade away.

The insatiable hunger, achy joints, and muscle fatigue.
The anxiety over being anxious.
The stabbing abdominal sensations.

The questions: why? when? will it ever...?

Over the past year, I went deeper into being eternity-focused through time spent worshipping to Kim Walker-Smith’s, “Throne Room”. 

“I fall on my face with angels and saints 

and all I can say is ‘holy, holy, holy are You, God!’ 

My heart can’t contain the weight of Your name 

and all I can say is ‘holy, holy, holy are You!’”

Those lyrics became an anthem of sorts for me. I started picturing myself there - running into God’s throne room and falling prostrate before Him. Beholding His majesty, His beauty, His countenance; and being left only able to claim His holiness.

Can you picture it? Can you see yourself there, worshipping the King?

I found myself really moved and challenged by these lyrics. They stirred up a hunger in me - a desire to remain in a posture of exalting Him no matter what's happening around or within me. And I think that’s what changed my perspective during that painful first week of December. My heart had been tuned to the eternal, so the temporary pain didn’t feel so big.

When our gaze is fixed on the eternal, the temporal begins losing its grasp on us.

*Grace upon grace

All my fear falls away

Only Your perfect love 

for me remains

Instead of fretting about this illness, being scared I wouldn’t come out of the attack, and worried about its lasting effects - I had peace. 

I had pain. And nausea. I woke up in panic attacks, scrambling for JRB to help me. But even in the midst of all that, there was this eternal peace. My spirit was at rest.

It was {and is} well with my soul.

Because of these things God’s been revealing to me, these Truths that He’s planting deep within me and lovingly tending, I am at peace. I am confident of His goodness and His faithfulness towards me. 

Whether or not He takes this physical pain away, I will continue to trust Him.
Whether I’m ever healed on earth or not, I will gladly follow Him.

For He is holy. Oh, so holy.

        

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When I began this series, it took me a while to decide on what to title it. I asked for opinions, I thought through different options, I talked to Jesus about my ideas. And in the process, one name was highlighted: Enduring Faith. 

Because that’s the kind of faith I want.

A faith that stands strong under the weight of all life brings. 

A faith that does not flee in the face of the enemy’s taunts and attacks. 

A faith that attracts others into His Presence and Love.

A faith that continues when the world says quit; 

perseveres when the world pushes in; 

remains when others flee.

A faith that beautifully endures.

Read Enduring Faith {part 1} and Enduring Faith {part 2} for the rest of the story!

All lines preceded by an asterisk (*) are lyrics from "Throne Room".