Stay.

"If you are staying married just because you told Jesus you would - for no other reason at all - you are winning." - Me to a friend several days ago

We want it all to make sense. We want the equation to work. Respect him and he'll love you. Love her and she'll respect you. While the idea isn't ridiculous and is biblically based, I want to offer some encouragement to all of you who are in a marriage that just doesn't quite pan out that way, but you're still showing up, loving and respecting the best you can today - or maybe you're just showing up with a fair amount of unsureness and inability.

Sometimes you are both doing the best you can do and it still isn't working. This is where more than 50% of the population calls it - time of death: it-doesn't-feel-good-anymore-o'clock. This is where we decide whether we meant our vows or we didn't.

The Blackwell's are there with you. We love each other - truly we do - but it's been quite a long stretch now of not feeling particularly excited about each other and certainly of not being on the same page. I'm not going to go into all the details because, quite frankly, this is not the forum for that, but suffice it to say - we are muddling and fighting our way through, too. We are frustrated, wounded, and exhausted due to the past several years of our lives together, and we can't quite figure out how to get back into a good rhythm with each other. Y'all, we have both wanted to give up - quit trying - stay but not work so hard at thriving. Oh, how we've wanted to quit, but every time, the Holy Spirit reminds us that this is not what our Jesus came for - He didn't come for half lives or half marriages. So, we pick ourselves up off the ground to look one another in the eye again, ready for another go at it. We are bone tired weary, but we are not NOT showing up. I promised to actively love this man until I die - and while there are days, weeks and months that I very much want to flip him the bird, roll my eyes, or head for the hills, I will not - because I promised my God that I wouldn't. I promised Him I would stay - and because I rest so confidently in His great love for me, His abundant power and resources, and His promises of blessing for obedience - I stay. We stay.

So, how do you stay when you reach the place of feeling like it's all a big pile of poop?

1. Pray that junk down. I have written about this concept before because it revolutionized my life. It freed me up from having to manipulate, push, and control circumstances or, specifically, Josh. When I know what my heart is telling me but my man isn't there yet, the answer is to submit and pray that junk down. This is also important and applicable in the realm of protection and power. His role in our home is a thing that we cannot begin to understand the weight and responsibility of. We should praying for our husbands even more fervently and often than we pray for ourselves and our children. When you don't know what or how to pray for your man (or anything else in your life), For the Family by Sylvia Gunter is my very fave. Don't be thrown off by the dated cover, she is an epic prayer fighter. I've learned so much by praying through her book.
2. Tell the truth. I am just now learning to do this well. I mean, not the part where I tell the truth - that's been relatively easy for me, but the part that I do it after careful calculation and without letting my emotions dictate my delivery. We ought to be intentional to create space for one another to tell the truth - about our own struggles and about potential pitfalls in our spouse's life. It's sticky and awkward and potentially dangerous because, in this case, delivery matters enormously. If you verbally berate your spouse and then tag on an, "I'm saying all of this because I love you," it doesn't have QUITE the effect you might hope. Speak with kindness, pour on grace, practice patience - and be willing to sit in the yuck with your spouse.
3. Be nice. I am so serious about this. This is a thing that, other than a few times a year, we do a pretty good job at. We don't call each other names - ever - well except in our heads. We are only human. We don't belittle or demean. We try to help one another and give each other space. We aren't always perfect, but the rule, in our house, is be nice. That applies to all of us, and it helps prevent long lasting, deep wounds.
4. Spend time together. Fight with every breath you have to make time to be together. Not on your phones. Not doing separate activities in the same room. Together. I'm not saying all day every day - but once a week-ish, in my experience, a few hours of just the two of you will make a big difference. I know the whole - but what about our kids, our job, our extended family - is hard. Your kids will feel more secure when they know their mama and daddy love and enjoy each other. Your job will still be there in a few hours. Your extended family will like you better if you like each other. Something's gotta give, friends - and it should never, ever be our marriages.
5. Be aware of your own humanity. When our needs are not being met in our marriages over extended periods of time, whatever that may look like, we become more vulnerable to allowing them to be met in other relationships. This is what, more often than not, leads to affairs. I am HYPER sensitive to this in my own life because I KNOW I am not immune. It's better to be considered cold by your co-workers or other friends of the opposite sex than to find yourself smack in the middle of a relationship with someone that you didn't even see coming. I'm not saying you have to BE cold to keep things healthy, but I AM saying that the world just might see it that way. See the whole Mike Pence thing for reference. 
6. Have the sex. I don't have a lot to say about this, but I remember reading something by Jen Hatmaker - possibly in For the Love - that sometimes you just need to have the sex. When you don't know what else to do and there aren't any serious, need to talk this out with a third-party emotional wounds - you just need to come together again. God values sex in marriage. Maybe we should, too.

When Josh and I moved to Colorado in the fall of 2014, we prepared ourselves for a full force attack on our marriage. We knew this is where we would likely be hit the hardest, and we weren't wrong. Josh was crazy busy and extraordinarily alive in what he was doing, which meant he didn't have a lot to give me or need a lot from me. I was still neck deep in baby while also trying to get our oldest settled in school and figure out what my role was or needed to be in our church. In some ways, I was also extraordinarily alive albeit not as much as Josh because of the baby situation - which IS a gift, but not one that necessarily made me feel vibrant and alive. This boiled down to us being prone to cross paths, throw high fives, and slap good enough on our marriage.

Also, we were sick a lot. Everyone. For all the fall and winter and most of the spring months we were there, someone was puking or snotting or coughing with fever. Let your imagination go wild.

All that to say, we knew we had to fight to spend time together, to see each other, and to protect our marriage. So, we did. We went out without our children about once every ten days - this was a result of having a good pool of babysitters at our fingertips who we knew well because we were planting a church with their families. We went out together often, and while we still had our share of issues (this isn't the first time I've written about marriage being crazy hard), we began to enjoy one another more and more. We began to live like we were on the same side. It was a gift.

Right now - it's not that simple. We are not on the same page. That isn't a cry for help or an admission of defeat - it's just the truth. We can say those truths aloud to each other and then plow through them because of one thing...we are in this. Neither one of us is packing our bags and hitting the road - not literally, not figuratively. We promised our God, and so we stay. We fight. We honor. We love. We screw up. We say we are sorry. We pray. We get up and try again tomorrow.

That's it. You're not alone. Stay. If the only reason you stay is because you stood at an altar and promised God you would, you are winning, and you are in the company of every couple who has ever made it 'til death do us part.

Making Space

Photo cred: Molly Townsend, my sister, queen of photography.

These are our babies, my sister's and mine - all spectacularly unique and still so little that they only know how to be - and make space for exactly who they are. My mom, in fact, overheard an interchange between Emily Ellen and Marilee a few months ago that still gets us tickled. They were coloring happily together until someone did something that escalated into the exchange of ugly words. They paused and Emily Ellen said to Marilee, "We should probably say we're sorry," to which my Marilee quickly replied, "I'm not sorry." At which point Emily Ellen responded, "I'm not either." And it was over. They went back to coloring. And while they may have some things to learn about apologizing when you don't feel like it, they also have some things to teach us about making space for each other. They had their tiff, said their junk aloud to one another, and then moved right along in their relationship with one another. They are so, so good at making room for each other's ugly, and I am just about smitten with it.

Can we just talk, for a minute, about how challenging it is to become the person we want to be? But seriously, I was just looking through my Evernote Notebooks (my husband just did a herkie because he has a SERIOUS Evernote crush) and found a note that I wrote in January. Not that many months ago. That I forgot existed. At all. It is a list of my goals for this year. It reads like this:

Bible

• Read through the New Testament with Calvary and journal via the FB page and Insta.

Prayer

• Pray daily with purpose and passion - but most of all with persistence.

Writing

• Write daily for one hour.

Bellwether

• Pray and watch for next steps.

Exercise

• Jog 1 mile 3 days/week. 

• Work up in ab exercises 3 days/week.

• Work up in pull ups 3 days/week.

Lumpkin.

I have managed to sort of mostly keep up with the Calvary reading plan. The end. That is all. 

I'm so good at list making and dreaming and feeling all the feelings. I'm so bad at list doing. There is more to this issue than just, "I mean - nobody keeps their New Year's resolutions." I am easily distracted by too many dreams, and I get all wrapped up in all my feelings. So many feelings and desires and passions. 

"Sometimes I have big feelings where big feelings are not needed." - Michal Lynn Tweedie

And so this becomes the issue for us dreamers. To step out of the dream world long enough to live in the real one. To put the feelings aside in order to take up the task at hand. But lists like that one up there - they are valuable, because now I remember. I remember what I set out to do in 2017, and 2017 ain't over, baby. Maybe I'll go for a jog tomorrow. Maybe you can ask me about it? Maybe I'll journal a little better about what God is teaching me through personal Bible Study. Maybe you can ask me about that, too?

Together is, in my experience, the hardest and also the most sure-fire way to get to the place you want to be.

If you're married - or really even if you are not - chances are God has put someone in your life who is the opposite of you. The very, exact opposite. I hung out with a new friend last week who expressed how very not-feely she is and how it slap wears her out when women pour out and swim in all their feelings. I giggled and shared with her that my propensity is, in fact, to BE one of those women - except that I have learned that my feelings can either be drowning agents or tools for growth. The first is what they are when I let them guide my life. The latter is what they are when I choose to look for what (or who) they are pointing me to. She later shared that sharing her "junk" in front of people is a hard thing for her. I love, love this about both of us. Can you see it? How our struggles and strengths actually complement each other?!

I have to tell you that Josh and I are struggling to muddle through how we can complement and not crush each other. We've been married for nearly twelve years, and we are so different than we were a decade ago. But our personalities are the same as they were - different as ever. Last night we had a big word vomit fest where we just laid it all on the table - everything we're muddling through. And apart from Jesus, it seems impossible to love each other well. That's the truth. But with Jesus, with Him - only Him - He can lead us both to Evernote (herkie #2) at the same time to sort out what we are thinking and feeling. Me in a coffee shop. Josh in a meeting room. And we can giggle wildly when we share our notes because his is in detailed bullet list form and mine is in the shape of a very pretty, wordy few paragraphs that reads half like a prayer and half like a journal entry.

My point is this - God has all sorts of ways of refining us - and I've come to learn that it's almost entirely through relationships. When we run into a person who challenges us, who forces us to think a little differently, who asks hard questions, who disagrees with us - what do we do? Do we run? Do we shut down? Or do we bravely, boldly say, "You. I choose you because walking alongside you will make me more like Jesus, more whole, more changed." Do we dare to be exactly who we are while blending lives with the ones who are not like we are, but are seeking to love Jesus like we are?

Gosh, I hope so. Because this is the body of Christ. Saying it hurts when it hurts. Asking about the run or the sin or the dream. Making space for feelings even when they aren't needed but loving a person too much to let them be led by their feelings instead of God's loving, disciplining Word and guiding Spirit. Making space for bullet lists even when they're boring but loving a person too much to let them be led by their doing instead of God's gracious, freeing Word and guiding Spirit. This is part of the richness of following Jesus alongside all the other ones who are following Him. It's messy and hard but He's using us to move each other toward wholeness, friends! Let's not miss it.

Again

I write this post so that all of you who are fighting for good marriages will know that you are not alone, that we are all struggling to choose to fight every single day, that we all have days and weeks and months and years where we wonder if it's really all worth it, to fight so hard for a thing that makes you so tired. If maybe it's all just a lost cause and we should settle for our relationship as it is. Marriage matters so very much. Don't let Satan slip in with His lies of not worth it because He desires to steal and kill everything that is good in this world. And marriage can be so, so good - even though on it's own, it usually isn't.

Josh and I fought last week. We said things that were unkind. It was altogether awful - the culmination of months of unsaid, unresolved hurts. My knee-jerk reaction was to run to Barnes and Noble for coffee and books - to seek comfort in the tangible and escape through the wonder of words. But on this day I made a choice to take God at His word:

Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. James 4:8 

I knew that seeking Him would not provide an escape from my circumstances but rather a way through them, that asking to know His heart would likely lead me down the harder path. Sometimes it's just so much easier to run away, but this time I didn't. This time I went to the place where I can always sense His presence, where I always see the possibility of what He can do.

The following is what I experienced while I was there:

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13

I watch the wind tickle the gold leaves against periwinkle blue skies, birds darting across my view like mid-day falling stars, grass-hoppers bouncing about - the popcorn of the earth. I rest in the middle of it all, entirely unnoticed by creation itself but entirely seen by the Creator.

Before Him, altogether seen, I pour out my heart - the anger, the frustration, the brokenness, the hurt, and the fact that I cannot see the next thing to do. A half-obedience, a half-marriage - that's enough, right? As long as we just stay together, it's enough. It is, isn't it? But it isn't. He is not a God who accepts half-obedience because He is a God who desires His children to know full lives.

...I have come that you may have life to the full. John 10:10

I listen. I hear what He is saying. He is asking me to fight, but I cannot muster the courage to say, "Yes."

That old tree is so grand, so magnificent. She begins to rustle at the tip top. She's going to drop all those gorgeous, gold leaves again soon and she'll stand there bare and grey in the cold for what seems like too long- but in the spring, He will fill her branches once more - old to new, bare to full.

I rise and walk, understanding that He's asking for my whole, aching heart. He's asking me to reach up and hand my heart above Josh and to Him - and in doing so I must, by default also draw closer to this man I have always loved but feel so distant from at the moment. I resist because I am tired. Weary. Not again. I cannot pour myself into this - again.

So, I crunch, crunch through the drying weeds back to my familiar path. Everything feels fuzzy, dream-like, a photo with a sunburst in the corner. Real but not - because the things that we said, the ways we've let each other down, sometimes it's painfully stunning to think about.

It's only a few steps to that house, my house, the one with the cathedral window and the falling down siding, the stone chimney covered in vine turned fire-blazing red in the autumn air, the old trucks piled out front and the sweet potato vine lime green along the fence. Maybe everyone else just sees a dump - a house falling in, unsalvageable, unimpressive. But I see dinner parties on the lawn, that Cathedral window clean and bright, white siding gleaming again. I see the stone chimney accented by that vine, not taken over by it. I see that unexpected stone front porch heavy with the footprints of people who need to believe in the possibility of restoration. And the sweet potato vine? It's just perfect as it is. I see the magnificence of "again."

And then unexpectedly, my God bends low. He whispers, "Emily, this is who you are. You see what could be - the old house lovely again, the forgotten chairs painted and right again, the drug addict alive and bright-eyed again, the sex slave walking upright and free, the orphan living in love and security in a whole family. You believe in restoration and you are a fighter. You are this because this is who I am. Believe in your marriage. Be a fighter for you relationship. Look hard for the possibility. This is who you are because this is who I am...a fighter, a redeemer, a God of 'again.'"

And so I turn around and walk back to my car, back to my regular, eternal life - unsure of what to do next, still so tired of trying - but at peace, complete peace, and

...sure of this - He who began a good work (on July 16, 2005, when two naive 21 year olds said yes to forever) will bring it to completion, all the way until Jesus comes back and makes everything new forever. Philippians 1:6 (Parenthetical addition mine)

Who knows? Maybe one day my man and I will restore that old house together, and the cathedral window will be the one that watches us grow a little older together with the passing of each day - maybe that house will always and forever be God's rainbow gift to me, a promise of His unending faithfulness. Because truly, God can do whatever He wants.

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work in us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21

Please know that if you are in a situation that feels impossible, suffocating, maybe even dead - God sees you. He is asking you to seek Him with your whole heart - no crutches, no safety nets - just the entirety of who you are before the magnitude of who He is. This is where beauty begins!

Bent-knee and Weepy

On Sunday, I fell on my knees and wept at the altar of grace because this first year of church planting has sent me into the depths of myself. I thought I was coming here so that God could use me in this city, but the truth is that God is using this experience, this city, this culture, this church to uncover the lies that still hide in the corners of my heart.

"You have to prove yourself."

"You aren't all that special."

"You can't get it together."

"People think you're snobby."

"People think you're annoying."

"People think you're stupid because you talk slow (aka with a southern accent)."

"You are shallow."

"You are weak."

"You aren't very fun."

"You don't know that much about Jesus or the Bible."

"You aren't intellectual enough to engage people here."

"You better not say that out loud because 'they' might not approve."

"You are SUCH a church girl. Ugh."

"No one actually needs you."

"Meek? Pugh. Not in the cards for you, sister."

And on and on and on it goes. These aren't things that run through my head in formed thoughts and words, necessarily, but as time wears on, I find that my decisions are based on these lies. Who I am in Jesus becomes smaller - Jesus Himself becomes smaller in my life - and I start to live in fear and darkness because what if I mess EVERYTHING up?! What if "they" are all (gasp) disappointed in me?!

I have found myself feeling increasingly isolated and defeated. But, per the usual, God pursues me hard and breaks right through in love, mercy, grace and usually a heap of tears (on my part). Via an encounter with an old acquaintence who meant well but stung deep, a series of morning devotions leading me back around to the issue of pride, and one of the best sermons about pride I have ever heard, I fell bent knee and broken before my God and acknowledged that somehow, I'd let it become all about me...again. And just to put a shiny stamp of boo-yah on His faithfulness, God provided me a great deal of healing balm in the form of sweet Jessica, 1 John and Jen Hatmaker's For the Love.

Here is what is resounding through my heart this week, what I hope will give you something to chew on as well if you find yourself in the depths of...yourself:

1. The problem with the lies that I believe is that they all have to do with what other's think of me and with the impossible expectations that I place on myself. Nine times out of ten, this is the root of every sin issue in my life. Me. Me. Me. But in 1 Corinthians 4:3-4, Paul nips this in the bud.

3 But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. 4 For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me. 

To paraphrase Ben's paraphrase of these verses, "I don't really care what you think about me. But also, I don't really care what I think about me. I only care what God says about me." Like both a knife and a bandage to my aching heart, I am free to acknowledge that I have stopped caring so much what God's Word says about who I am in Him and instead have believed that lies of the Liar, that what I do (or do not do) matters. I am free to embrace that I am so broken, so screwed up, and so completely made whole. The upside down economy of our sweet, sweet Jesus played out in real life.

2. This believing of the lies about who I am is a straight shot into isolation, because I must not let anyone see the real me. They'll know quickly that I am not enough and I must prove them wrong. I must somehow BE enough. I become critical and unkind in my heart - lacking entirely in grace and living guarded, unsure of what I'm allowed to say and what I am not. But then I read in 1 John 1:5-7:

5 This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. 6 If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. 7 But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. 

Not only can I release the weight of pleasing anyone but my Father, which was done in full when Jesus died for me, but I can also release the weight of getting it "right" because I am free to just - live. As long as I am inviting the Holy Spirit to do His cleansing work in my life, I don't have to conceal things, to live in darkness. In fact, this living in secret cannot coincide with living in Jesus...because He IS light. When I hide in the darkness, my communion with Jesus is broken, yes, but so is my communion with other believers.

Hear me: This brave, out-in-the-open living is jaw-breaking hard. There is no way to waltz through it, happy and glowing. It's messy, gut-wrenching, and sometimes supremely awkward. But we must, must lean into it anyway. We must rip the curtains off and say, "Today I cried at the altar because God showed me that I have been living in sin for a year and I didn't even realize it." My friend Jessica saw me afterwards, tears still flowing and ugly cry threatening to pierce back through, but she didn't act like my world or hers was falling apart. She gave me a hug, and as I told her about what I was dealing with she simply said, "Sanctification (this process of being made more like Christ) is hard." Can we do more of this? Can we just be present with people? No more pity or condemnation or embarrassment? Just the acknowledgement that we are all screwed up and will be having moments of knee-bending repentance for the rest of our ever-loving lives on earth! And that we are loved by our people no matter. Isn't THIS the way of Jesus?

3. Lastly, I just read Jen Hatmaker's For the Love. I laughed 'til I cried in the middle of Starbucks. No joke. But on every page I breathed kindness, and joy, and enough. There's a quote by C.S. Lewis that says, "Joy is the serious business of heaven." This book takes joy VERY seriously and thus, for me, is a little slice of heaven. It celebrates that we WILL disagree. No doubt. Without fail. The very fact that some of you are not Hatmaker fans and I enjoy her so entirely is testimony to the fact that we can love God and follow Jesus AND disagree entirely on personality and writing style and motives and even interpretation of Scripture. Can I ask, though, that we give each other the benefit of the doubt? That if we are teaching Jesus as the only way to heaven, the only One who can lead us into a full and complete life, we give wiggle room in the areas that we honestly could possibly be wrong about? Can we assume a posture of humility and not condemnation? Can we assume the best until we are given reason to believe the worst? I am speaking to myself especially, here. Can we extend what has not been earned - respect, kindness, good-heartedness - because those things have been so freely extended to us? I am begging God for this in my own life - a softer heart, a gentler spirit - because He has already done it all, resolved it all, healed it all. I need not go around try to be enough or right.

I love you all dearly. Truly. And I am so grateful to be able to learn from you, walk with you, laugh with you, and cry with you. Thank you, more than anything, for extending an inordinate amount of unearned goodwill.

Dueces, my peeps.

Pray That Junk Down

It has been some months since I've written. Church planting, pfh...more like soul stripping. In all the best, most painful ways. Nearly one year after moving here, I find myself, our family, never more aware of either the weakness in my spirit or the power in my soul. Everything has changed, and yet everything is just the same. There are still bills to paid, children to be raised, cheeks to be kissed, toilets to be cleaned, clothes to be washed, and apologies to be given. And in addition to that there is a church to be nourished - as an entity and as a gathering of individual, imperfect hearts. Our own insecurities, insufficiencies, inadequacies - they bob up and down on the surface of our hearts, demanding to be seen, making us weary with their dependable returns. In short, we - I - am laid bare.

But this is beauty, you see, to stand in my dining room waiting for the extra pot of coffee to brew and know that I am responsible for the rough start of the day. I am. There is no way around it. But to also know that wearing that responsibility like binding chains is exactly the opposite of what Jesus has done, is doing for me. And to, instead, bow low to the ground, eye level with the dried up cheese bits and the smelly old carpet, and whisper, "Jesus, I am out of wine." I do not self-deprecate or moan, I simply look him in the eye and state the obvious, "Do you see me down here with everything that is gross about my life? I have no magic fairy dust. I have nothing lovely or delicious to offer anyone. I cannot support a husband, raise children, keep a house, hold a job, be a friend, be part of a church-plant, and start a new ministry. I cannot. I do not have what it takes. I. am. out. of. wine. But I love you. And I believe that you are who you say you are. I don't know what that means in my particular situation, how exactly you will work a miracle, but I know you will - because you are my Jesus." And then I stand up and walk through my day, expecting him to do the miraculous.

Please do not miss that in this story Jesus first tells his mother, "No." He tells her that it isn't time. He asks her what she wants him to do about it. And what she does next shows unparalleled trust and faith. She holds his gaze, orders the servants to do what he says, and then she walks away. She doesn't kick or scream, but she does show him that she trusts his heart, that she knows he cares about every minute detail of the hosts lives, and that he is capable of doing the miraculous. She doesn't try to make a plan and force his hand. She just orders obedience and then fades out of the story, trusting him to be who he says he is, who he has proven himself to be, choosing to be an instrument in the manifestation of his glory. There is room - no, necessity - for both quiet trust and bold action in our lives, and often times they are actually the same thing

I was talking with a friend a couple of months ago and I said, "But what do you do when you know you are right but you can't see a way to make it happen?" Her response was strong and beautiful and honestly pretty kick-butt. She said, "You submit. And then you pray that junk down." So, there it is. If you are standing before the monumental task of life living, and you cannot see a way through it all, bow low, take a good hard look at the old dried up cheese bits of your life, own them. Then submit - submit to this season, to God's very intentional ordering of your life, and pray.

Pray that junk down.

This is the essence of faith, friends, and God is laying us low every day so that we can receive the rich reward of knowing this kind of life-altering faith-power!

Sex, Thrills, and Fifty Shades of Grey.

Fifty Shades of Grey.

Let's just go ahead and throw it out there. The chatter is endless. The stances are varying.

I'm not here to write a critique about the movie or the books themselves. I've not read or seen them, and I do not plan to do so. It's a bad idea for my walk with Jesus and for my marriage.

Some of you are rolling your eyes. You think I'm being dramatic. You think I'm a prude and don't know how to let loose and have some fun. I want to tell you something...

I like sex. I like it often. I like it fun.

I like it with my husband - who is the only man I've ever done it with.

I know a lot of women stand on the side of sex as a chore - but there's not a thing about sex that feels the same as doing laundry to me.

When we first started - y'all. It was awkward and funky. Bless our inexperienced hearts. But it was okay because we figured it out together. It hasn't been without work - meeting each other's needs and loving each other selflessly in the bedroom. It is not without work ten years in. But seriously, it gets better and better the longer we practice. With each other. No one else is invited - not literally, not metaphorically.

There certainly have been seasons when I've felt so discouraged in our sex life that I just assumed it would always be mediocre. Early in our marriage I read tips in Cosmo and more than one cheesy "spice up your sex life" book. I bought crazy lingerie and tried my hardest to "get creative". None of it ever seemed to matter.

Finally, I started praying about it. I mean specifically praying about the details our sex life. At first it felt weird and sort of like writing this blog post knowing that my parents will probably read it. But then, slowly, things started to change. My relationship with Jesus deepened because in inviting him into this area of my marriage, I was inviting him into more of my heart. And Josh's and my sex life - all I'm going to say is - Prayer works, ladies.

I am also very familiar with that feeling of desperation to just feel SOMEthing again. To know fun and thrill and a life different than where you have ended up. I know what it is to want to escape. Running to Jesus is the answer there, too. I'm not saying that in doing so, everything suddenly comes up rosy. What I am saying is that as we run to him over and over again in the midst of our monotony, something in our hearts changes. Our need for adventure and pleasure doesn't diminish, but our focus shifts to the One who placed those needs in our hearts to begin with - to the one who will fulfill them in measures we could not even imagine.

Like I said, I don't know enough about the movies or the book to give any sort of accurate critique BUT I do know that your sex life doesn't need anything but Jesus to be awesome. Your real life doesn't need anything but Jesus to be delicious and exciting. Everything you're looking for - a way to escape, to feel alive again. You're not going to find it in some smutty movie. You will only find it when you start running with Jesus wholeheartedly.

I know from experience.

Fifty Shades of Grey is not the answer.

Don't Leave Out the Messy

I need to say something.

Don't leave out the messy.

Josh had a conversation with some friends of his the other day about starting a new church - about how they would do it if they had the chance (and the desire or calling). Their answers were honest, thoughtful, and honestly very helpful for Josh and me as we mulled over and through them.

The one that had me stuck for a few days was about being real and relevant. You all know that I've touched on this many times before. I think that I am pretty real. I don't pretend that I'm something that I'm not - or at least not intentionally. You know that my marriage is good but it isn't perfect, my children are incredible but, good gravy they are sinners, and I have conversations like this with my sister:

I am an over achiever. I love books that help me know how to pursue Jesus more and better. I also love books that allow me to escape my every day life. I struggle to choose joy every day. I still enjoy watching the Twilight series. (Don't laugh. Okay, laugh if you must. Roll your eyes even. It's justified.) Sometimes I still wonder if people really like me. I need lots of verbal affirmation and that annoys me about myself. I drink wine about three times a year because, good lawsy, I love a glass of Pinot Grigio. I don't drink wine during all the rest of the year because it can make some people uncomfortable. And I don't need it. And coffee is enough of a vice for me, thankyouverymuch. And addiction runs in my family. I'm an awful long distance friend (I'm so sorry to all of you who haven't heard from me in person in an embarrassing amount of time.) And Friends will forever and always be my happy place.

What I want to convey to everyone is that I am who I am - we are who we are - all of the time, whether it's weird for us to drink or weird for us not to drink. Whether you think I'm a loser for watching Twilight or stinking awesome (Go ahead - toss me another eye roll). I haven't always been this way, but I am now - and it is so blissfully freeing! Seriously.

Are you? Real, I mean - and free? Y'all, don't leave out the messy. I doodled this in my journal a few mornings ago. And by messy, I mean anything that doesn't quite fit in your box - whatever your box is - don't leave it out. Talk through it. Say you don't know. Say you're ticked and God is on your bad list today. Yes. Do that. But also, say that you do know. Say that you are grateful and God is the redeemer of your bad list.

Real swings both ways, friends.

Aaannd...lest you think I'm tooting my own real horn here:

What I'm pretty sure I'm not is relevant - particularly in this new, very different, very interesting (the good kind) culture we find ourselves living in. So, in an effort to be more relevant because I want to hang out with my fun neighbors and have something to talk about besides my favorite Friends episode or the latest and best Christian woman author book I've read, in 2015 I commit to -

• Read twelve new books, six of which would never have been on my reading list before. I'm still deciding what these books will be, but I hope to keep you updated. Suggestions are welcome!
• Grow my knowledge base about the history of our new little town and farmhouse architecture in general.
• Watch Jimmy Fallon be hilarious as much as possible.
• Be a better listener.
• Still watch plenty of Friends.
• Still read Christian woman author books.

It gets tricky practicing both, I think - because what if being relevant means you have to change who you are? Then you aren't real and that doesn't make sense either. 

How do you practice being real and being relevant?

Because Sometimes I Wish I Was a Big Deal

 

In your relationship with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death - even death on a cross! Philippians 2:5-8

Humility. 

It is the one garment that always seems to allude me just as I'm grabbing onto its hem to pull it over my head. Even as a girl, it seemed like an impossible thing to achieve because, as my thirteen-year-old mind reasoned, as soon as you decide to be humble, you become aware of your awesome humility and slip right back into pride.

Although my thirty-one-year-old mind has a better understanding of what humility actually is and what it looks like played out in every day life, I still struggle to walk in it. I like to pray for it like I used to pray for joy, "Lord, please GIVE me joy/humility. Take note that I did not ask you to TEACH me either of those things. Please just open my heart and slip them right in. Thanks so much."

The last seven years of my life were one long lesson on joy and contentment. I think now we've moved into humility. Apparently, God misunderstood my prayers. Everything I read tells me to bow low, and I am stirred to move deeper into a place that looks like my mouth being shut far more. It looks like me stepping back and letting others shine brighter. It looks like catching spit-up in my hand while I pray about how I can help other women know more about themselves and about Jesus. It looks like me not being a big deal.

Do you ever just wish you could be a big deal, though...and revel in it?

I do sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes I just want people to know that I/my husband/my kids - we are good at stuff - and not just skills good but also, like, being sweet and kind people who are seeking Jesus. I want people to know.

OR I want people to know that they are not a big deal. That they are not any more special than anyone else - not in skills or in character - and that they seriously need to get over themselves.

Obviously this is not an area of sin in my life. Obviously.

And so I wrestle it out. I begin to grasp that this humility thing - it's ALL about taking every thought captive. As in tackle them to the ground, bind them up in the grace of Jesus, and throw them into the pit. Lots of times, that looks like staying silent or standing behind. It looks like being the odd man out and letting others tell me about themselves and their lives and not needing them to ask me about mine. It looks like giving simple, honest answers when I am asked about my own life - even if those answers paint me messier than I'd like. It looks catching the spit-up, cleaning the toilets, and playing referee over someone looking at the other's vitamins the wrong way. I can't make this stuff up, people. It looks like doing it without expecting anything in return at all.

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; SO he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples' feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. John 13:3-6

Jesus knew who He was in the eyes of His Father, SO he gladly bowed low before those He led. When it comes right down to it, my desire to be a big deal points to a security that is lacking in my relationship with God. It points to my lack of rest in being a big deal to Him. It points out my lack of faith. But if I believed with my I whole heart - that belief would release me from any need to be a big deal to anyone else and therefore free me to serve others in loving humility.

I choose to embrace these lessons of humility because I want to grow in wisdom and peace. That doesn't mean I have to think it's fun - but I am doing my best to lean into it instead of fight against it.

Humility and wisdom are a package deal. And often the people who have the most wisdom have experienced the most humility. Or sometimes even the most humiliation. A wisdom like none other can arise from those hard places that bring us low. 

-Lysa Terkeurst The Best Yes

*These scriptures were paired for me in the O Come Let Us Adore Him devotional on the SheReadsTruth app. It's a great tool for daily Scripture reading.

Thoughts from a Melancholy Monday

"Hug Molly and kiss sweet Catharine...It's killing me not to be there." I choked the words to my Mama past the lump and my throat and found myself surprised that it was there at all - the lump, I mean.

I woke up yesterday morning after a full and wonderful evening with some dear women sat around my table and communicated with their eyes, their tears, their words, and their laughter - that even though we feel alone right now, we don't have to forever. It was beautiful and rich and life-giving and affirming. I went to bed full and woke up  expecting more of the same, as a friend who I've wanted to be an even better friend for a very long time was scheduled to bring her littles to my house so they could play and we could get right down to what God is doing in our lives - and beyond.

What I ACTUALLY woke up to was a toddler with hand, foot, and mouth disease and thus the melancholy set in and hung low all the live long day.

Let me tell you that all was fine. The girls were wonderful. Marilee was snuggly and a little irritable, but she was not what she might have been - what I might have been - with friggity, fraggin' sores all over her mouth, hands, and feet. It was not a bad day, but I could not shake the blah's. I tried. I couldn't.

We stayed in PJ's. We watched more TV than any expert or super-mom would ever approve of. I finally got all the children's clothes in some sort of order.

And my sister, my best friend for as long as I can remember life, delivered her second baby. And I wasn't there. Again.

There is an ache that accompanies that sentence - an apart-ness from the people who have molded me and loved me whole for all my life - that runs deeper than my words can say and holds tighter than this life has the power to shake. It's good. She's good. Sweet baby girl Catharine is good, too. They're beautiful, and I am grateful that I have pictures to see and a trip approaching. But the fact that we miss out on each other's major life events - it's almost more than I can bear sometimes.

There's no answer, no solution. Only the honest acknowledgement of the pain of it all, another surrendering to the One who has allowed us to bear this particular burden, and the choice to keep living full and whole in the where, who, and how of today. So, I told Him it was hard. I felt mounds of gratitude to and for a gracious friend who hooked me up with oils for the hand, foot, and mouth situation, and considered that blessings and burdens blend together like the pinks, oranges, and blues of the Florida evening sky - to make something deeply beautiful - something so striking that you let your five year old stay up past her bedtime watching it disappear and marveling at it's inexplicable beauty. 

Then you rent Saving Mr. Banks and embrace the art of creativity and the way it allows you to cry for what you didn't realize you were quite so sad about. You eat popcorn and stay up too late and say feelings aloud to the man who lets you hurt when you need to. You go to sleep and you get up and you do it again.

And you know that Jesus, sweet Jesus - He is the one to look to and consider at the beginning of every day. He is the maker of beautiful, possible, and strong.

God Cares about the Mama Sheep

I woke up at 5 heavy-hearted and uncomfortable in my bed. I prayed, cruised Facebook for a while, made a mental checklist for today, prayed some more and finally dozed back off at 6. We all slept until almost 8 this morning, and I felt pretty grateful for that. Marilee woke up all fluffy haired, puffy-eyed, and happy. Adelle was still sound asleep at 8:15 when I went to  close her door. I felt pretty grateful for all of those things, too.

I brewed coffee, watched pudgy hands wave goodbye to Daddy out the window, poured cereal for the pudgy hands to eat on all morning, and heard the pitter patter of little big girl feet down the hall. Hugs were exchanged by all, celebrations were had for late sleep-in mornings, and juice was prepared. Somewhere around this point, I looked over to see the pudgy hands pulling a cup of juice off the counter. There was nothing that could be done at that point. Sticky juice - all over the kitchen floor.

Here is where the happy, lazy morning came to an abrupt stop. I fussed at Marilee in a way that I'm pretty sure no 18 month old really understands, but this very same thing happened yesterday morning. Yesterday, y'all. Sticky juice - all over the dining room rug - as I was preparing breakfast. She reaches, grabs, climbs - all the time. I can't keep up with it, and I'm beginning to get pretty frustrated and EXTREMELY nervous about adding an infant to the mix around the time that her abilities become more impressive. Adelle knelt in front of the juice spill saying things like, "Now I don't have anymore juice. Why are you, like, slamming the paper towels? Marilee's coming back in the kitchen." My best bet, at that point, was to stay mostly silent and give the shortest answers possible. Marilee stood at the kitchen entrance crying, arms up begging to be held. My coffee sat on the counter, staring at me as I mopped, reminding me that it was rapidly losing its cozy warmth.

Monsters Inc. is our distraction of choice this morning. Well, it's theirs. Mine was the Jimmy Fallon/Justin Timberlake History of Rap number. As I watched it, I couldn't help but lament, once again, that The Tonight Show comes on SO DARN LATE. We are in bed asleep by 10 pm, y'all. Every night. And we don't DVR. So, looks like I'll just keep enjoying clips and wishing for more. Jimmy Fallon is one of the funniest people in the history of ever.

But I digress.

Between the heavy-heartedness and my ability to slip so quickly from snuggly morning bliss into cranky pants, mean mommy over spilled juice - one thing is glaringly clear...I need Jesus. I need Him at 5 am when the worry and the fear sneak in, at 8 am when the day calls me forth, at 8:15, 8:30, and 9 when life's little hiccups point straight to my weaknesses. I need Him at 9:15 when I get a text that The Hunk will, surprise!, be home later than usual because he forgot to tell me about a racket ball game. And I have to decide whether be a witchy poo about it or be gracious because, really, I'm glad he's doing something for himself - I'm just annoyed that his plans make mine a little more difficult to accomplish today. And he's the easiest target at which to point my spilled juice frustration.

I need the Good Shepherd. Fortunately, I know Him, and He cares about the Mama Sheep. Isaiah 40:11

Remember that today, ladies, whether you are at a job that you hate or one that you love - and the deadlines are pressing in and you have spilled juice on your pretty pants because you did the whole morning mommy routine in addition to your other job. Remember it if you are still in your jammies at nearly 10 am with a squirmy fuzz head in your lap and on your keyboard and a monotony that threatens to turn each day into an eternity. Remember that you have a responsibility to love and lead your babies well, to graciously and gracefully serve your man. Do remember all those things, but also remember that when you run into a wall of "I cannot do this for one more second," God cares about the Mama sheep, and walls aren't really a big thing for Him.

A glimpse at the wrestling match inside my head.

A thing looms before me that is too big to touch. I can't even roll it around in my head to get a feel for it because it's so foreign - so other than anything I could dream up - or, quite frankly, would ever want to. It's a thing that, at this point, I should probably be praying FOR - but I can barely bring myself to pray ABOUT.

I'm not meaning to be vague and cryptic. I'm not even talking about one thing in particular. I'm just contemplating how Abe, Isaac, and Jacob prayed. We get so little of what they talked to God about. There's a lot of prayer about conception but not that much about direction. What do you think that means? It seems as though they just waited for God to say, "Go," and they went. Isaac just moved around digging wells until they hit one that no one argued about. There's an overarching sense that God was in control of it all, but there's little direct conversation with Him detailed.

I wonder if sometimes we make too much of "God's will." We glorify it and worry over it and feel certain we are missing it. I wonder if often times He makes it slap obvious that we should be taking that job, making that move, starting that conversation, etc. I wonder if we agonize over whether or not it is direction from Him because we are so hoping that it isn't. I mean, we are half hoping that it isn't. Wait, mostly hoping. Wait, only a little hoping. This is one of the reasons I love our God so much. He slowly and gently keeps pointing us toward a thing. "Yes, yes. I see it, God. Are we sure this is from you? Because nothing about it makes sense." And then He reminds you of every story there ever was in the history of the world about people following Him and you remember, for the eight hundredth time, that none of those made sense either.

So you just stand there and stare at it until you start to get nauseated. Then you take a break and pretend that it isn't there, patiently waiting for you to turn around and consider it again. But somehow, through a conversation that could only have happened if God strategically orchestrated it, you do turn around again and start to consider it as a real thing.  Somehow, the excitement begins to match the fear, or they take turns winning wrestling matches in your heart.

Maybe it's time to start praying specifically for a thing instead of just vaguely mentioning it in prayer because I know I can't pretend it isn't real but I really don't want it to go any further than this. Maybe.

What do you think?

How do you dream big AND embrace today?

I was up for my two hour jaunt last night. It's a thing that, with this pregnancy, happens about once a week. I've come to embrace it and since, now, I'm no longer fighting nausea for those two hours, I am using it to reflect and pray. I am soaking up the quiet while simultaneously praying for sleep to come.

I am leading a class surrounding Emily P. Freeman's book, A Million Little Ways. It has truly been a blessing - to read it a second time and to move through it with a group of honest women. What I am struggling with, though - what I always struggle with - is the ability to dream big for the future while standing with my two feet planted firmly in my present reality.

Once, I took the test that is a part of Tom Rath's book, Strengths Finder. It told me that I am, among other things, futuristic. "You are the kind of person who loves to peer over the horizon. The future fascinates you. As if it were projected on the wall, you see in detail what the future might hold, and this detailed picture keeps pulling you forward into tomorrow...When the present proves too frustrating, and the people around you too pragmatic, you conjure up visions of the future..." This seemed like a really good explanation for my tendency to be discontent with the present. When I was just out of college, I came up with a new dream every month. What could I do for a living that would use some of my talents and interests that wouldn't be the same job every.single.day? The things I came up with were endless - and most of them silly, but I would dive headlong into these possibilities because I was so sick and tired of my reality.

They never came to fruition because, you know, I do live in the real world with real limitations...and a lot of them were silly. I'd wind up frustrated with myself, with God, and with my circumstances. Then I realized that discontentment was a deep rooted sin in my life, and it needed to be addressed. So, part of that solution was to stop dreaming and to live entirely in the present. This also doesn't work because it requires me to tuck away a legitimate part of who God created me to be...a dreamer. I have continued to hop on one side of the time line or the other for nearly ten years, but there has to be a better way.

Do you struggle with this, too? How do you dream big, expectant dreams while simultaneously embracing and enjoying your present reality? Seriously - a sister needs some help!

Confessions

I thought I'd do a little bit of everything sort of post. All I can promise is that it will be truthful...and maybe a little sloppy. Read at your own risk.

1. There are so many things about motherhood I am deeply moved by - desperately in love with. Like watching Adelle's heart unfold in front of my eyes...watching her little God-created spirit bloom, her kindness evolve, her compassion grow, and her interests pop against the backdrop of life - it's humbling and fascinating and I cannot believe I get to be a part of it, for her and the other two behind her.

2. One thing about motherhood that I am flat fed up with is the clean up of other people's bodily fluids. I feel like I am forever wiping hineys, washing sheets, and suctioning snot. Y'all - I'm just not a fan. It's a thing that I cannot seem to get used to. I mean, I do it, obviously. And it's not like a shocking thing when it happens, but when it does, I always think, "Oh. My. Gooooooosh." Every single time.

3. I used to send cards. Like, I would spend an hour or more in Hallmark carefully handpicking the cards that made me laugh and think of one particular person. It was my thing, and I genuinely loved doing it. I even had a stockpile of funny cards that I was saving for just the right recipient at just the right time. I don't even know what it would be like anymore - to stand in any place for an hour or more just reading cards. I feel a little sad about that.

4. Adelle is starting kindergarten next year. At a place that is not my home. We are in a massive struggle of both faith and reality as we choose what's best for her and what can actually be afforded. As I enjoyed the no sleep curse of pregnancy last night, I could hardly bear the thought of sending her anywhere all day every day next year. I don't want her to stay home. She doesn't want to stay home. I know that it's time, but I think that I'm having a hard time letting go...and I never thought I'd be a mom who had a hard time letting go.

5. I am genuinely struggling with asking God for much of anything in regard to this pregnancy because my baby-having experiences, no matter how diligently I've prayed for them, have not gone smoothly in the past. I think I am masking my lack of belief in God's desire to give me a good experience with an "I trust His plan," attitude. Really what I feel is weary, and whatever, and let's get this over with. I'm sad about that, but I don't really know how to deal with it.

 

And there you have it. The things that have been bouncing around in my head this week. What's been bouncing around in yours??

The Truth About Being a Pastor's Wife: When Sharing Is Hard

[caption id="attachment_3823" align="aligncenter" width="720"] At Josh's ordination service...when the journey was just beginning.[/caption]

I have grown into this pastor's wife gig. I recently heard another pastor's wife say, "I just worry about being me and nothing else." I felt like that was really good advice, and I think that I am coming much closer to having that sort of attitude. I don't notice the loneliness like I used to. The Sunday Morning Single Motherhood thing doesn't even bother me much these days - puke-ville and all.

When Adelle - as in my first and only child at the time - was little and I still had time to curl my hair before church and be on time, nay early, to church - I made some comment about how hard my life was to a dear old friend who always calls me out on my junk and happens to also be married to a pastor's wife. His particular call out this time was an understanding head nod and, "Yeah. It's hard but you can do it. A lot of really good women have done it before you and a lot more will do it after you." As in - girlfriend, life isn't that bad and your situation isn't so spectacular that no one else has handled it, and handled it well, before.

After that I made the decision to stop being dramatic and put my big girl panties on, and for the most part I think I've kept them on - in that category at least. But there are Sundays, like this one in particular, when I find myself telling God, "I know, Lord. My life is really good. I'm sorry I am feeling a little pout-y about it, but I am." I found myself facing the same insurmountable battle I have faced for a great deal of our life here, and I was so grateful to feel Josh's arm pressed up against mine as we listened to the sermon. I was grateful to have my strong and steady best friend.

Then the closing music began, he leaned over and whispered that he wouldn't be able to help with the girls afterwards today and then took his post at the front to be available to pray with whoever might need to be loved on. But today I needed to be loved on. I wanted him to be there with me as tears welled up behind my once-a-week make-upped eyes. I didn't want to share the only person who knows me through and through - and loves me just the same. It wasn't his fault. I wasn't upset with him. I was just...sad. And a little lonely. And so, so weary.

So the truth is that most of the time I don't mind sharing my man with whoever might need him. He is good and kind and wonderful at what he does. He points people to Jesus in whatever way they might need, and that is an amazing, wonderful thing. I've grown accustomed to sharing him logistically. But every once in a while, I find myself completely unprepared to share him emotionally.

I recognize that this isn't all bad because my only choice in that moment was to look toward Jesus - to whisper my sad - and to remember that He has taught me that I'm never alone. There are people all around who don't know...they don't know that they really aren't ever alone. But not me. I get to claim that peace and grab the hand of Jesus.

Maybe I wouldn't have remembered it so readily if I'd been able to grab the hand of my man.

A God Who Makes Room: Part 1

I went to the meeting. The announcement had stirred me - not many things stir me like that, you know? The way your heart leaps and your soul leans in because you know what they're saying matters. So I asked my man if he'd like to go with me to the interest meeting. He was less than ecstatic because the logistics - financially and in this season of our life - of me going on a two week long trip across the world are just a little daunting. I told him that God can do whatever He wants.

And He does.

It turns out that as I sat in that meeting, longing to leave my normalcy and embark upon an adventure, God said to me: This is your adventure right now, Emily. You cannot leave your girls for two weeks. You will be a part of this trip, but I am asking you to stay here in the trenches.

A few days later we found out that Josh WOULD probably be going as part of his job. For two weeks - during which he would find a refreshed passion and I would turn 30 - in the trenches.

I struggled with this, understanding fully what God had whispered at the meeting. My role was to stay behind and be the mama so that Josh could go and lead to the fullest of ability. I'm not very good at staying behind. And in my head I decided that I would not - that we would be plunking down the enormous amount of money to fly to Louisiana - or drive - if that's what it took. I was NOT staying here in crazy-ville - alone.

As we began to crunch the numbers, my heart looked toward the possibility of doing this alone for two weeks. I felt nauseated. Then Josh came home and mentioned that he'd be sending out support letters - that everyone going was responsible for paying/raising the funds for their own way - even the pastors. So, could I really, in good conscience, say, "We need you to help us send Josh on this trip, but we can totally shell out $500+ to get me and the girls to Louisiana?"

In the shower - AKA my prayer closet - God said "No." And I accepted His answer. I didn't like it, but I accepted it. And then this happened...

 

This is an excerpt from a little something my sister and I are doing together. This was originally written directly to her. Some of the language has been edited for safety purposes and because I talk different to the woman who has been my best friend all my life.

But I am pressing onward - learning to flex and release - because He makes it clear that this is all there is. To bend and let go of everything I want, to release it all to Him and trust Him enough to let Him do as He pleases with the tenderest corners of my heart.

Last night I took the girls to a Night of Worship at the church that was in support of Josh's trip. I knew it would be crazy trying to corral the girls in the back while Josh did his job and everyone else worshiped. I knew I would be flying solo because in everything about this trip, I will be flying solo. Hairy, it was. The girls were active at best, cranky at worst. I started to get that anxiety feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that this is what I had to face in a month. For two weeks, this “hanging on to self control by a tiny thread” feeling was what there was.

I want to make it about me. I want Josh to know how hard it will be. I want him to feel sorry for me and maybe a little bit guilty about going. Well, part of me does. The other part of me is annoyed with that part of me. Because really I want to be humble and serve my family graciously. I want to be unafraid and selfless because my heart truly breaks for the people this team is going to serve. They know loneliness I cannot even fathom. I want Josh to know that we are going to be fine. That I am capable, not crazy. I want him to be free to love those people entirely, unconcerned about whether or not his wife is yelling at his kids everyday - or whether he’s going to come back to a full-fledged nut job. I want him to be excited about going.

And then they started in on You Revive Me. God said, “This is your anthem. I can do this through you. Let me carry you. I will be your River of Joy in the desert. I know you feel empty and poor. That’s good - Emily - so good. I’m the treasure you can’t afford. What you are doing here, with these girls IS kingdom work. You are their first picture of Jesus. How you respond to your husband doing ministry will affect them for the rest of their lives. What you are doing here - oh yes, it is a monumental, exhausting task. I will revive you. Even though no one sees. Even though they will all pat Josh on the back and share their stories of watching others be revived. Even though you feel the vastness of solitude pressing in on you. I see you. Your work matters. I love your little girls as much as I love those Josh is going to serve - you be my instrument of revival in their little hearts. I see you.”

And so, here I go. I know my God - I know Him in the dark and in the light. He will protect me and keep me. He will revive me at the last hour if I will not work so hard to numb His touch with country music, television, and even novels. None of those are bad, but they are when I use them to numb. Pray for me, sister. I know the enemy is prowling around the perimeter of this house, waiting for an opportunity to slip in and wreak havoc.

If he does try anything, pray that I have the strength and soundness of mind to go all ninja southern mama on his hiney.

 

What I want to say to you is that two weeks later, Josh came in from a very long day of work - which meant that it had also been a very long day for me - and informed me that a family that we go to church with wanted to pay for me and the girls to go back to Louisiana while Josh was gone. And also, my Mama and Daddy who have always worked so hard to make sure I am taken care of, offered to do the same.

We leave on Sunday to go to the place that revives my spirit and fills my heart with joy - to be with the people who bring me great comfort and love my girls like I do.

God did not have to give me this gift. All kinds of women all over the world do what I do by themselves AND they work every.single.day. This is not lost on me. I am forever in awe of what they do. I could have stayed here. It would have been hard, but we would have managed. But this gift - it leaves me humbled and speechless.

He is a God who sees. He makes room for me and mine. He makes room for you and yours, too.

I Wrestle: Part 2

Yesterday, over coffee and catch-up with one of my dearest friends, Michal Lynn, she recounted a conversation with our other friend Christin. It went like this:

Michal Lynn: God keeps telling me to study the book of Hosea.

Christin: Oh! That's what I'm about to start in my chronological Bible!

Michal Lynn: [Eye roll] Well, great!


Christin: I wonder what God is doing...

Michal Lynn: I don't know, but it makes me nauseated.

 

This is the point at which I burst into loud laughter and interrupted all of the Starbucks patrons quiet brooding sessions. It resonated with me because - Me, too! It makes me nauseated, too. Primarily because when I feel like I am being moved toward something that I cannot see, it often results in the greatest challenge of my life. It really results in what I had in mind.

I peeled back the crisp pages of Rebekah Lyons' book, Freefall to Fly yesterday. Actually, full disclosure: I read the intro in the bookstore as I was trying to make my decision. Let me tell you - there is reason I tried to get out of choosing this one. It's rattling me just like I knew that it would. Thank you, Rebekah, dear, for writing down all of my deepest insecurities and forcing me to put words to them in my mind.

Another laugh out loud moment with ML: I'm officially on Varsity. God's like, No more JV for you! You have a problem - here's your verse. Work it out.

 

That's what He's doing - He's steady peeling back the layers of issues that I never knew were a thing. We are now getting into the tricky parts that are not blatant sin but are heart issues, and unaddressed will lead me into failure and unrest and ineffectiveness over and again.

I don't want to read this blasted book - but I can't put it down. See? Wrestling.

 

Back to the part where what God's doing makes me nauseated. I think that my heart believes a thing about Him that isn't true. I always assume, that if I see two options - one looks like what I would choose, what I desperately want and the other looks like the hardest situation I can imagine right this moment - God is obviously going to lead me to the most difficult one. It's not that I think that He doesn't like me, or thinks it's fun to pin me to the ground in submission [I have believed that before, though]. It's just that maybe He knows that I know Him better when in challenging situations. Couldn't I know Him better in seasons of rest and joy, too? I don't know.

Wrestling.

All I'm saying is that maybe it shouldn't make me nauseated. I joke about how God probably will make me do the harder thing - and the truth is if He does, I'll grab His hand and walk right through it because I have come to believe that He knows what is best - but I wonder if maybe I'm not giving God enough credit in the kindness area. Or maybe I'm giving Him just enough and side-stepping the health, wealth, and prosperity issue.

I don't know.  More wrestling.

What do you think?

 

I'm afraid that it's making me timid - afraid to dream because God's plans and my dreams rarely appear to be the same. I don't want to be timid or squelched or afraid. Something's off, but I'm not sure how to right it.

This is what I'm saying - I wrestle!

 

I wrestle.

Do you ever get a thing in your head? And you can't stop thinking about it, reaching for it, begging God to make it happen? It even feels like it is the thing that WILL happen, but you don't know when? And you have learned not to really trust your feelings anyway because they are wrong a lot.

I waffle back and forth between all in the moment and what the future may hold. There are aches and pains and things that I believe in my heart and know in my head are all wrong. I wrestle.

Things like God is so hard on me and If you want it to happen, assume it will not and Don't count on it. I know in my head that these are not true, and there are days when that trickles down to my heart - but there are days when my heart puts up quite a fight against Truth.

I also remember that sometimes it's both - longing and contentment - ache and joy. I try to get comfortable with the awkwardness of that.

I weep when my four year old wakes up crying because she misses her Nana - and there's nothing I can do to ease her ache. And I rejoice because my children know what it is to let people who don't share our blood and our history right into the thick of our lives. I rejoice because she sings with glee when she sees Michal Lynn and because God gave us a person like Michal Lynn who loves us all - no holds bar.

My heart stings a bit when I watch my Daddy guide my girls in a way I never would have thought to - in a gentler, wiser, more seasoned way - because I know that they only get that sort of relief from the relentless mommy-rulings a few times a year. And I grateful because I have learned to lean on Jesus in a way that is almost second nature because I am daily stripped of any goodness I had in me - and He is our only relief.



There is a weight upon me as I look into the eyes of a friend who has had a year that no one should ever have to have - and I know that all I can offer her is a few hours while she is in town and my prayers. She's not asking me for anything, but I feel compelled to do SOMEthing. And I am struck teary eyed when the generosity of new friends makes a way for me to side step entirely alone and fly straight into the arms of comfort.

I am weary of weeping, and stinging, and walking beneath the weight, but I am grateful for the way that it all has changed - is changing - my heart. Grateful for better seeing eyes and a deeper feeling heart. Grateful to know what it is to come to the end of myself. Beyond the way this all affects me...I don't know how God is using it to mold my children. I can't really say that I like it, but I do like Him - and I trust Him.

And so I wrestle - I beg and I rest and I hurt and I rejoice...and I choose to believe that He is kind.

No clever conclusion - just a little something to let you know that everyone is dealing with a thing. You are not alone.

Justice. Mercy. Humility. Love.

I am going to rant a little in this post. Sorry, but I'm over it. All of it. I am all for staying relevant and understanding our culture. Truly. But I am sick and dang tired of hearing shouts and outcries in the negative. "Miley is crazy," "Stop the mommy wars," "Obama is a tyrant," "You're not a human being if you don't support public breastfeeding," "America, you are not weeping over your sin and therefore God will destroy you."

Over it.

I am not saying that any of these [admittedly exaggerated] statements are false, although I  do think this the whole public breastfeeding issue has garnered more attention than it really merits. I can agree that we are an arrogant, perverted, selfish, sinful culture - what did we really expect from Miley? [These are two posts that approach her performance thoughtfully and respectfully: Sorry, Miley and How do we help Miley?] The Mommy Wars are out of control - even in my own semi-sheltered world, I feel their effects and think they are destroying genuinely good mothers. Maybe President Obama is a tyrant, but I can't see what good shouting about it on Social Media does anyone. I've already addressed America's misery and the whole bizarre breastfeeding shennanigans.

My point is this - the character of Americans will not be altered by arrogant, pride-sin shouts for the other side of the line. It will be changed in humility and love. And I believe there is room for truth between the two.

The Mommy Wars will not be ended until those of us who know where our identity lies choose to find it there instead of in the approval of the latest parenting guru - Christian or not - or the mother of 4 under the age of 5 at Publix who is dressed beautifully and is gleefully chatting with all of her well-behaved lovies while you shuffle through the aisles in cut-offs and an old t-shirt...without your children who are at home with their daddy.

President Obama is still a human being. I don't agree with much of anything that he does, but he is still a creation of God. Tyrant or not, God has allowed him to be the leader of our country. We will see no change in any area of our government until we learn to collectively speak truth in humility and love. Maybe we won't even see it then, but we will be blameless before the God who, in fact, is still in control of all things.

I'm sorry. I cannot get behind the fight for public breastfeeding. I don't care if you choose to breastfeed in public or not. I think you should be allowed to, but I'll not be throwing any weight or words around for it when there are women all over the world who are so malnourished that they cannot even produce the milk their babies need to survive. For them I want to fight a better fight - louder and harder.

I want to fight better for justice - for the orphan in foster care who carries his whole life in a trash bag. For the old man forgotten. For the abused mama, for the addict, for the prostitute - who are looking for a second chance at life. For the child star who has been exploited her whole life and now doesn't know up from down - for her to be reminded of love that covers. For the single mama who is at the end of her rope and just needs to know that someone sees her and his cheering her on.

We should be using every resource we have to speak truth, but if our words are not spoken in love - we are little more than an annoyance. 

I'll close with this:

How can I stand up before God
    and show proper respect to the high God?
Should I bring an armload of offerings
    topped off with yearling calves?
Would God be impressed with thousands of rams,
    with buckets and barrels of olive oil?
Would he be moved if I sacrificed my firstborn child,
    my precious baby, to cancel my sin?

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do,
    what God is looking for in men and women.
It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,
    be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don’t take yourself too seriously—
    take God seriously.

Micah 6:7-8 The Message

End rant.

Adelle's birthday party fun and another post on sweet Marilee's birth week coming soon. They'll be much more fun to read!