Psalm 105:1

Tonight I sit overwhelmed and amazed and in perfect, exuberant peace. Tonight my daughter accepted Christ as her Savior.

In September, her younger six-year-old brother joined the family of God. He was beaming from ear to ear when we went to pick him up from his Sunday morning class, and he matter-of-factly announced that he had said the prayer to accept Jesus into his heart. Being six years old, Joey and I were hesitant and probably even doubtful this was a real decision, but boy, did God prove this doubting Mama's heart wrong.

My son was different. He was more open to spiritual conversations, more attentive, more willing to listen and attempt to apply Biblical truth to his life. He drew a precious picture of his heart with a stick-figure God inside, writing along the side that, "Yes. I did it. The God of Heaven" with arrows pointing to inside his heart. I didn't even know he had drawn this picture. I had simply mailed the envelope for him, but then my mother-in-love texted me a picture of the drawing when she received it. My heart jumped! Of his own accord, he had willingly told someone else about his decision. In the days to come, he would write messages in the sand on the beach, and my shy, little-man-of-few-words would volunteer to lead prayer time in his Sunday morning class, saying prayers that only come from the most pure of heart.  There's no doubt in my mind, the Holy Spirit filled my son this past September, and the conversations we have had since then have blessed me deeply.

But in the meantime, my eight-year-old daughter was hesitant, even resistant toward conversations we had with her about this decision. The Lord had to work on me. He told me I needed to shut my mouth, speak carefully and gently only when those small windows of opportunity arose, and not press. This was her decision, not mine. Her life choice. So I shut my mouth and prayed so fervently every night because I knew she knew. I knew she understood, but her open defiance was also clearly on display. She is queen of changing the subject, and Lord help us if we ever started to go deeper into anything than a puddle, she was always the first to come up for air, distracting herself with silliness and giggles and goofiness.

The Lord was faithful. He used a dear friend to point out Romans 2:4 to me, which basically states it is God's kindness that leads us to repentance. Kindness. That is not a character quality I would rank high on my list of attributes. We are a low mercy home in general. Practicing kindness seemed foreign. Good manors, respectfulness, obedience...yes, we do those, but kindness? Kindness relates closely to words like caring, heartfelt concern, mercy, compassion, empathy. Yeah, gut-check. I needed to work on those. My daughter needed to know my kindness, so she could understand in part the kindness of our heavenly Father.

So I stopped rolling my eyes at her dramatic flair; instead, at the Lord's prompting, I took more deep breaths and saw her for who she was right in her emotional moments. Hurt feelings, splinters, bruises, friend problems, school issues--these were all moments to put kindness into practice. Learning to love another person for who they are, right where they are in life, not getting frustrated at their unused potential, not seeing the person God is molding them to be, but seeing the person standing right in front of you, needy, hurting, responding to that person, that child--that has been embarrassingly difficult for me to do.

Lord, thank you for helping me to see my daughter through your eyes--valued, loved, wanted. Even in her rebellious heart, she was still wholly and completely desired as my child. Wow. Such a tender life lesson and peek through the looking glass at the heart of my heavenly Father. I don't think I really got it until I had to live it, to put it in to practice. Thank you, Jesus, for hard lessons.

Over the last few months, I've had to entrust my daughter over and over again back into the hands of her Heavenly Father who made her and knows her so much better than even I can hope to know. I've prayed often in tears. I've trusted the Lord's promise to me that before the age of 12, my children would choose to follow the Lord. I believed the encouraging words of wiser women who spoke truth that one day, my daughter would make that decision for herself. Somewhere in the past few months, I stopped focusing on my desires and my timeline and my daughter's attitude, and decided the only hopeful place to focus was on Jesus.

So I ordered the She Reads Truth Lent study. I've never observed Lent. I'm not even really sure what it stands for or what it is or how to rightly observe it. But I knew it was about my Jesus' journey toward the cross, and it was about intentionally focusing on Him and His sacrifice. So tonight, on Ash Wednesday, I sat my kids around our table. We lit the candle in our Lent Wreath and began the first of a 40 day journey toward the cross together.

Something about lighting that candle cast a spell on my children. They watched the flame and listened intently to the Scripture readings. They read some of the verses from their own Bibles. We talked and discussed and ate scripture together, and my heart was so full. And we talked about sin and repentance and confession and forgiveness and what it means to be a child of God. And in the tender closing moments, right before we prayed, my daughter tentatively announced that God was asking her to repent, that she believed in Jesus and what He had come to do, and that she wanted to follow Him and be a child of God.

And my heart overflowed! It burst open. Satan immediately tried to get in there with his voice of doubt, but I looked into my daughter's eyes, and I chose to believe God, just like she was doing. And she bowed her head and prayed, and I listened to her sweet words of repentance and confession and proclaimed belief in Jesus' death and resurrection. I didn't even have to say the words for her.  She spoke them all herself, and she spoke them perfectly. And then I knew she was my child because the tears of happiness began to flow and her eyes shone and glistened, and the joy of the Lord filled her countenance.

And in the quiet evening of Ash Wednesday our family of four was made complete in the Holy Spirit, sealed together in Christ for all eternity. My children choose Jesus. I can ask for nothing more.

At ages and six and eight, I know that they know. Their Spirit testifies to mine because it is the same.

I have no greater joy than to know that my children 

are walking in the truth. (3 John 1:4)

No. Greater. Joy.

May you also be encouraged. May you faithfully trust the Lord with the hearts and minds of those dearest to you. May the Lord hear your fervent prayers from heaven and look on you with favor. May you too know the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:13) Amen and Amen!

Oh give thanks to the Lord, call upon His name;

Make known His deeds among the peoples. (Psalm 105:1)

   

Christmas Letter 2015

I post this every year for those of you I may have inadvertently forgot to send our Christmas card to. Enjoy and Merry Christmas from our family to yours!  .....

Dear Family & Friends,                                                                                                                 December 2015

Well, this was our first full year as Californians, and I must say, we have lived it to the fullest. Legoland, Disneyland, San Diego Zoo and Safari Park, USS Midway, Joshua Tree National Park, Big Bear snow tubing, paddle surfing, whale watching, too many beautiful sunsets to count--from the desert, to the mountains, to the beaches, we live California.

Weston turned six in August, and in September he joined Savannah as a kindergartner at Grace Classical Academy. God answered so many years of prayers on my part by giving him the sweetest class of all boys, brothers in make-believe games and soccer battles. But September 20th marked the best news of all for us, when Weston said the prayer to accept Christ as his personal Lord and Savior in his church class. The Lord has been so kind to this doubting Mama to confirm over and over again in very clear ways the presence of the Holy Spirit in Weston's heart and life, and the change in him is undeniable. I can't wait to see what the Lord has in store for his tender, yet deeply understanding heart!

Savannah is still my joy and lover of life. She's taken second grade by storm, turning eight years old in October. She loves everything and everyone, and while I still pray daily for her salvation, I am grateful for all the conversations we are having now about life and faith and people. Her heart is so tender and loving and open toward others that I can't wait to see how God is going to continue to use her to draw people to Him. She is a constant source of energy and life in our family for which I am truly thankful, and I have learned she sees value in things I overlook or take for granted. God is already using her to smooth out rough edges I didn't know I had, and for that I am learning to be grateful ;)

Joey continues to love his job, and we are blessed beyond measure by both our Chick-fil-A family here in California and in the corporate office. Every year that passes, I am more and more grateful for the faithfulness of the Cathy family to have built a business based on biblical principles.

But perhaps the theme for this year, the over-arching lesson for both Joey and myself and our children has been: Do the hard thing. Not just the next thing, but the hard thing. When you’re not sure which step to take next, step in the direction that is hard to go.  God has met us down that path so many times this year.

I cannot think of a time in my life where I have more actively sought the face and will of the Lord more so than in this past year. I have sought Him in stillness and patience and quietness and long, deep pauses of life. A life not busy. A calendar not full. A day not scheduled. And if you know me, you know how hard this has actually been for me to sink into.

We have sought the Lord in the most difficult task of finding a church home, a place to belong, friends to call our own. This journey has forced us to dig deeper into God's Word and challenge what we think we know. It has been the hardest journey to discern what is best for our family at this stage of our life. The Lord was faithful to finally open some doors in October, and we find ourselves finally at peace for a season connected with some awesome people we hope become lifelong friends in a church home that preaches the truth of God's Word without watering it down or avoiding the tough issues. Just the Bible--that's all our family really needs.

In August after much prayer, we bought an RV, and have enjoyed the intentional memories it allows us to make with our children as a family, seeing the beauty of God’s creation that is all over the west coast, but that too was a hard path to choose to take. God continues to ask us to trust Him with our finances in so many areas, but I’m so grateful that every time He asks us to take a plunge of faith He meets us right where we are and provides in ways we couldn’t have foreseen.

I've prayed with so many this year, had so many conversations, read so many news and opinion articles. It has been a hard year for many, for our nation, for the world. If I’m being honest, it’s still hard. Joey and I are pressing into the Lord and into each other during this season.  We’re holding our marriage and our children up to the Lord in daily surrender, with open hands, trying not to have expectations and to let God be God. A godly marriage is hard. Parenting is hard. Separating the truth from the lies inside your own head is hard.

But friends, it is also SO VERY GOOD.  Hard, but good.  Because in the midst of choosing the narrow path, the hard path, the Voice of Truth comes and fills your life with meaning and goodness and a sense of purpose and fulfillment that only comes from a Good, Loving Heavenly Father who created us, so He knows exactly what fills the longings of our souls. You find His mercies truly are new every morning that His forgiveness covers a multitude of failings, giving you the renewed joy to try again.  You find refuge in His strength and not your own.  You find peace in His plan, so far out of your control that all you can do is trust and hope and try to be obedient.  And even though the obedience is the hardest part of all, the daily moment-by-moment choice to choose the Lord and His way, it is also where some of the sweetest moments of life are experienced.

I wonder if this year has been hard for you as well.  I wonder if you have taken the easy path, the fun path, the path you think you deserve, are entitled to, the life you think you should be living. I wonder if you have nothing to show for it but regret. I’ve made that mistake this year, and I’m so grateful that every time I turn around to try and choose a different way, the Lord is faithful to place before me the same hard path I could have chosen the first time. The path He always knew would be best. I didn’t miss it. He didn’t take it away, and He was right there to walk it with me every. single. time.

So my encouragement this year is to choose the hard. For me, I have to choose to be still instead of busy. Some need to become active instead of being still. For me, I need to pray more in secret and speak less in public, hence the fewer blog posts. For some, God is calling you to speak out the truth in love instead of holding it all inside. For me, I need to learn to be okay with being uncomfortable, to get comfortable with being rubbed raw and worked on from the inside out, and that is a hard journey I am only just beginning. Some of you have been uncomfortable you’re entire life, never feeling like yourself, and God is calling you to get comfortable with Him.

Do you see what I mean?  What is hard for me may not be hard for you!  We are all so different, so wonderfully made, so perfectly created. What is the hard thing to sink into at this point in your life, as this new year approaches?  What hard path have you been avoiding that you finally need to take the hand of your Heavenly Father and just trust Him, walk with Him down that path?

The words of Jesus Himself, John 16:33, "I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble (guaranteed). But take heart! I (Jesus, God the Father, and the Holy Spirit living inside His believers) have OVERCOME the world!" (emphasis mine) Amen, Amen, and Amen!

Praying this Christmas season you can claim victory in Jesus as we celebrate His birth as the beginning of the end of the curse of man! The best gift of all because Jesus brought salvation for us all from it all. May you live a life of victory in 2016 choosing to do the hard things with Christ, overcoming and not losing heart.

“O victory in Jesus /My Savior, forever./He sought me and bought me /With His redeeming blood; /He loved me ere I knew Him /And all my love is due Him, /He plunged me to victory, /Beneath the cleansing flood.”

 –Bartlett, E.M, “Victory in Jesus”, 1939

Grateful every day Jesus took the hard path from heaven to earth, from earth to the cross, from death to life. Grateful he gives me a choice to follow His example, but also that He chose me to follow His example.

Merry Christmas from our family to yours!

Praying you fully embrace the abundance of good in the midst of the hard,

Joey, Jennifer, Savannah, & Weston Durham

Media, Refugees, Vaccines, Politics: How Christians Really Should Be Posting

I've read them all. I can't help it. Every article, post, rant, comment about the refugees. I've read them all--and my heart is still torn.

Torn because I don't receive every homeless person around me into my own home for many of the safety reasons being presented. Our country is in debt trying to take care of its own poor and needy. Why would our country welcome refugees it knows nothing about? And try to support them using money it does not have?

Torn because the Bible is very clear about how, as believers, we are suppose to welcome and care for the poor, the children, the widows, and the foreigners. And I want to be obedient to God's Word with a right attitude. And when I read those stories about the Holocaust growing up, I swore I wouldn't have been one of those people who looked the other way.

So how do you care and not look the other way and still use discretion and wisdom concerning what you let inside your own borders?  I think this is the question our government is trying to answer.  It's just our government doesn't function very well these days. Everyone is at odds with everyone.

Maybe the better question is, as Christians, why do we expect the government to act with a godly mindset? Why is the Church not being held responsible for acting like Christ? And while everyone is trying to make up their minds, what should we the people do in the meantime?

Well, we've got to stop fighting over social media. 

1) Because everyone, no matter which side of the fence you stand on, just ends up showing their worst side of themselves to everyone else behind the anonymity of their device.  Yes, you have a right to your opinion.  Yes, it's a free country. Yes, you can even argue with people over the internet. That's your right too.

But are your arguments and opinions benefiting your cause directly or are they simply a source of tension relief, to feel like you've been "heard"? Are we unifying the body of Christ with our opinions or are we simply causing more division? If you're bracing yourself for an attack before you post, should you even post? Is the Holy Spirit guiding your clicking or is it something else?

I have friends on my Facebook feeds from all sides of every fence, and I read articles and postings from people I care about that share different views about life. I scroll down through the comments, and I see vicious, cruel, unloving words. Christians getting angry with other Christians makes us unattractive to an unbelieving world. (1 Corinthians 6:1-7) Christians getting self-righteous with unbelievers makes us an abhorrent, arrogant, stench in the nostril of unbelievers, and they are turning away from us because of it every day, never to look back, never to read another thing we post.

As Christ followers, we will be attacked by the world and its followers.(John 15:18-21)
We should be responding with grace and truth if we feel the Spirit lead us to respond at all. (Colossians 4:6)
Turning the other cheek is still always an option, my friends. (Matthew 5:38-44)
Speaking the Truth of Jesus in the Holy Spirit led attitude of selfless love is the other option. (Ephesians 4:15)
Honestly, neither are easy. What IS easy is spouting off my opinions while I'm not being led by the Spirit. That's mostly what I read online, what I hear in the tone of so many God-fearing friends whose hearts are good, but whose intentions are not Spirit-led in the moment. I have been just as guilty.

Christ desires for us to be unified in Him, functioning as one unit, as one Body. That's what I really want. To see my dear Christian friends united in grace and understanding toward one another DESPITE their differences in opinion. To be the living, breathing picture of Ephesians chapters 5 and 6. 

2) Because fighting over social media really accomplishes NOTHING. If you want to accomplish something, get a group of your friends together who have the same opinion and write your representatives, organize and participate in a march, a peaceful demonstration of your beliefs, go to your church or local non-profit and see what there is you can already do now, before our government decides. Send money, food, clothes, prayers. Get your hands and lives dirty being the hands and feet of Christ. Seek the heart of God in prayer, real prayer. Get others to pray with you.

And then, AFTER you've done all those things, then maybe you have some first hand, real life opinions to add to the conversation, and that's what this should be, a conversation, not a stand off to the death, not a I'm-right-you're-wrong-so-let's-hash-it-out arena. As with all things, social media can be used for good, to spread hope, love, and the truth about Jesus Christ, but I am so messed up in my flesh that too often that just doesn't happen, and now there's this arena called the internet the devil is using to expose just how not Spirit-led the body of Christ can be--on display for the whole world to see! Wouldn't it be better sometimes to simply not share anything at all?

Reposting various articles from various sources supporting your viewpoint just passes around more fuel for the fire (whether that be intentional or unintentional, the effect is still the same), and honestly, our media is so biased, how do you really know you can believe EVERY WORD written by anyone these days, regardless of what side of the political fence you stand on. Unless you know the author personally, like you have a personal relationship with the person who wrote the article and can vouch for their unbiased journalism or at the very least the integrity of their character, why share at all? 

Satan wants Christians to be divided. To cut the body of Christ into so many pieces it becomes useless, ineffective, and lifeless. We are almost there.

So while God and I still wrestle with where I stand on the issue of refugees, here is where I know I stand...

God is Sovereign. (Isaiah 46:10) He is in control.(Proverbs 19:21) He appointed the leadership of our country. (Romans 13:1) If He directs me to take a stand against the refugees, then I will write my representatives and do my part to sign petitions and take a stand accordingly, without posting articles and opinions on Facebook. I will take action where the Lord directs to influence the decision makers who are not reading the bickering comments of the rabble on social media.

If the Lord directs me to open my home, my heart, my wallet to pour out of myself on behalf of the refugees, then that's what I will do. I will go to my church or find an organization where I can aid in their voice to actually benefit the real people, the refugees themselves. I will follow the voice of the Lord and actually BE the hands and feet of Jesus instead of just talking about what I SHOULD be to a faceless mass who doesn't know me, instead of rallying people to an opinion and a cause that I actually haven't done one physical thing to actually support other than share an article on Facebook.

God knows me. And He knows you.(John 10:14) He knows your heart and hears your prayers, and He doesn't think it always needs to be plastered on social media.(Jeremiah 17:10) He wants it to be plastered across His social media. He wants our knees to the earth and voices raised in intercession for the least of these. He doesn't need our powerless typed words. He needs our powerful spoken ones.  The ones spoken in secret, laced with tears, battling hard for our fellow believers and for those who don't believe.

He wants us to pray fervently for our government and then graciously accept that their decision is allowed by Him and part of His design after we have followed His individual instructions to us in our own lives on how to best influence that leadership.

But the division has got to stop. On every topic. The conversations need to continue, they need to be had, they need to be heard, but this is not the space for it. The space for those conversations should be the four walls of your home or the Starbucks table with a friend. That's where we should have the courage to have the real and the hard conversations. One on one. Face to face.

So my solution, my resolve? If it's an article or post that might aid in the division of the body of Christ, I'm not liking it, sharing it, or commenting on it from this moment on. I won't aid the devil in continuing to divide the people of Christ. I just won't. 

But if you want my opinion about divisive topics, I'll be happy to have those conversations in a more personal space where we can be together and unified and civil and brave--together. Not separated by cyberspace. My prayer for this country and the people of Jesus Christ is that we be unified in love of our Savior and not fall into the snares of the devil, be they ever so sly, ever so slick, ever so seemingly harmless, ever so temptingly well-intentioned. 

God wants His voice to be heard, His story, His heart. We are His messengers. (2 Corinthians 5:20) May our message, in every word and every motive of our heart, always reflect His heart.  And if it doesn't, we are more prudent to stay silent. (Proverbs 17:28)

If it doesn't unify the Body of Christ, then it doesn't glorify Jesus Christ. (Notice I said unity within the body of believers--we will always be at odds with those who don't believe. Trying to achieve unity in that arena is a losing battle, and that's an opinion for another day;)

So to all my family and friends whom I love and who are my brothers and sisters in Christ, let us not give up spurring one another along toward Christ! (Hebrews 10:23-25) But if it's not spurring each other in that direction, let's all choose to pray before we click. That's all I ask, that's how I'm trying to change myself--a prayer before a post, then at the very least as many prayers are being said seeking the heart of God as there are opinions flying around :)

You Have What It Takes: Lessons with Littles

It was a hot June day where I watched the adults versus students soccer game commence on the steaming astroturf.  My hubby had come out for the festivities, always willing to play a game of soccer and to join in on some school fun as well.  It was the school's end of year celebration, and the soccer field was alive with sweaty kids and adults scrambling back and forth from one end of the field to the other.

Next to me, sat my son. He slouched slightly, huddled up next to me, silently watching the game in motion. My husband had called to him, wanting him to come play with/against him. But my son just shook his head, pressed into my side a little harder and just stared at the game.  I could sense he was unhappy.

"Son, why don't you go play? Every one's out there running around. It looks like fun even if you don't get a chance to kick the ball. Just go run around with your friends."

He shook his head, fidgeting, not making eye contact.

"What's wrong?  Why won't you go play?  You love to run around, and look, your dad is out there and your friends.  What's the problem?"

He turned his eyes to mine, meeting my gaze, and I could see the insecurity and (was that shame?) in his body language. "Mom," he said, raising his hands palms upward to either side of his body, shrugging his shoulders upward, "I just don't have what it takes." And he slumped back, eyes watching the game, defeated. And he'd never even set foot on the field.

My immediate reaction was righteous, holy anger.  In that brief moment, I felt like maybe the way God felt calling for Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, seeking them out to join Him. They hid, telling God they were naked and afraid to show themselves, and God's reply was, "Who told you you were naked?"(Genesis 3:11)  That's what I felt.  That moment I wanted to grab my son with both hands and shake him, saying, "Who told you that?! Who told you you didn't have what it takes?!?!?"

Certainly not me. Certainly not my husband.  We have told our kids to work hard and reach for the best of who God made them to be since they were born. We have prayed this over them.  This is not something he learned at home or through his environment or any other adult in his life of whom I am aware.

This was the voice of the devil.  This was the voice of the DNA of his flesh. This was the voice of the world, satan's dominion. This was the voice of a lie. (Ephesians 6:12, Galatians, 5:17, 1 John 5:19, John 8:44)

My son is five years old and already being attacked by the voices I myself have only begun to identify in my thirties. The holy, indignant mama bear in me wanted to wring satan's neck and cause him slow, torturous, unbearable pain for even thinking about messing with my five-year-old boy's mind. But the reality and weight and truth of the moment set in.

My heart softened and hurt for my son. Satan wasn't here himself, whispering lies in the mind of my child. He can't be everywhere at once like God, and I'm pretty sure he's pulling the personal strings of some way more dangerous and influential people somewhere in the world right now. His demons have no reason to be concerned with my son at this point in his life.  It was just the flesh my boy was born with, spiritual, genetically inherited, sinful DNA. My son didn't have to be taught how to believe lies, he just naturally, innately believed them. (Galatians 5:17)

He needed to be set free. The truth will always set you free, even if it's hard. (John 8:32)

I looked him in the eye. Firmly but lovingly said, "That is a lie from the devil. No one has ever told you that. You need to believe the truth. You need to believe what I say about who you are. You have exactly what it takes to get out there and play and enjoy and be successful. So get up. Get out there.  I don't care if you never touch the ball.  I don't care if all you do is run back and forth the rest of the game, not really knowing what you're doing.  Just get out there. You don't have a choice. Now get up and go!"

Reluctantly, he obeyed.

And in reflection, I hear the voice of my heavenly Father, my holy Parent, giving me the same speech, imparting the same truth. He's trying so diligently to always be setting me free. (Galatians 5:1 John 8:36))

"You are not (____insert lie______). That is a lie from the devil. My Word has never told you that is who you are. You need to believe the truth. You need to believe what I AM says about who you are. You have exactly what it takes to get out there and live victoriously, play joyfully, enjoy deeply, and succeed abundantly. I made you! I should know! So get up. Get out there. I don't care if you never reach that impossible goal, attain that important platform, grab hold of that dream. I don't care if all you do is run back and forth in pursuit of Me the rest of your time here on earth, not really ever knowing what you are doing. Just get out there. You have made your choice to follow Me, and I'm not allowing you the choice to live enslaved to fear. Now get up and go!"

Powerful words from the most influential Person in my life. Powerful words to a five-year-old when I am one of the most influential people in his life right now.

And you know what?  In the mass of adults and students running pell-mell around that field, people with way more experience at soccer than my son, he actually got to kick the ball! Twice! In the right direction!  As a parent, I've never been more proud.

And I have to think my Heavenly Father just wants the same from me. My effort to give it a try, my willingness to participate and see what happens. A good attitude helps, but sometimes it's the result of taking that first step anyways. Knowing your strengths and weaknesses can be a starting point, but sometimes you don't know what you're capable of until you try, and since no one really knows the limit to God's capabilities, you should assume no one knows the limit of His capabilities in and through you. (Job 11:7) There's no personality or spiritual gifts test that will perfectly package what my Uncontainable God can accomplish in the life of an open heart, soul, and mind of a child who is willing to fully trust and simply obey the words that flow from her Father's heart.

Just like my son, the whispered lies we believe imprison us to sit forever on the sidelines. The plain truth of our Heavenly Father, written clearly and completely, cover to cover in the Bible invites us to play and thrive! (2 Timothy 3:16-17)

Just like my son, will you trust Jesus with your deepest hurts, the lies you're afraid to speak out loud? Because I promise, He will come to your rescue. (Isaiah 35:4) He's the only One in righteous anger capable of literally strangling the devil inside you. His words are full of grace and hope and an open invitation to be part of something bigger than yourself. (Ephesians 3:20)

Just like myself, as a parent or an influencer of a child in any respect, will you consider the responsibility, the weight your words carry in the life of a child? You may literally be the picture of God they hold in their mind's eye until they are old enough to learn how to forgive you for how imperfect you actually are. May your words reflect the heart of God into their little lives, and when they don't--because mine sure always don't--may your open confession to them turn their hearts toward the Lord in search of the one Person who will never let them down.

Just like myself, may you hear the heart of God echoed in the words you speak to others and may you experience the same boomerang effect of them coming back around to settle in the heart of your own life.  (And let's be honest, that little speech I gave to my son above, that came straight from the Holy Spirit. I can take NO credit.)

Just like my son, may you hear the words of the Father and respond immediately and accordingly. Trust and obey. Get up, get out there, never stop chasing after the will of the Father. Pity parties on the side lines are the result of getting caught believing subtle lies. Being side-lined by the Father is a totally different feeling and blog for another day, but the big difference is those side-lined by the Father are sitting on the bench, anxiously waiting to get back in the game. My son was side-lined by fear and lies. BIG difference. Know thyself, but know thy God better.

Read Isaiah 42:1-9...
Life is an amazing journey that God created. Be on the journey with Him. Enjoy the journey with Him. Talk about all aspects of the journey with Him. Confession is how we give all the bad to God, so He can in turn bless us with encouragement and fellowship and all the good.

"Jesus is the answer for the world today/Above Him there's no other/Jesus is the way."

My Little Man

Well, it's only fitting when big sister gets her accolades on her sixth birthday that little brother does too. =)

There is something about six years old though.  It marks the end of chubby cheeks, silly precious baby talk, and awkward movement, and ushers in a very distinct milestone into childhood. A new life all their own. Where my little boy will head off to school for seven hours every day instead of in my home, and his life outside of mine really begins to take shape.

Yes, there's something about six years old, and since he's not only my boy, he's my baby, my heart aches a little harder this time around.  But oh world!  Let me tell you what's heading your way!

Weston Loyd Durham is bright and charming and what he can't accomplish with a winning wit he will succeed with a devilish smile. He thinks likes his Mama, and wins people with his personality like his Daddy. He is smart, wickedly smart.  He's a thinker, a planner, a lover, a snuggler. He's my cautious adventurer.

He may be afraid to fail at times, but when push comes to shove, he sticks his tongue out and works hard to make things happen.  He's not afraid of a little pain. He loves to be praised, and encouragement is the fuel that can make him try something new, even when his perfectionist tendencies try to hold him back.

He makes us laugh hard and smile long. When he speaks, though not often, you had better listen because the wisdom that flows can be surprising. He hears, sees, knows, and understands more than we ever give him credit for. There are deep waters in those hazel eyes.

You still take my hand at times, little man. You're not embarrassed yet to hug your Mama, openly throw your arms around me, and shamelessly tell the world you love me, no matter who's listening. I hope you never stop.

But someday when you might, my prayer is that you never feel that way about Jesus. My prayer for you, my Steadfast child, is that you are never ashamed of your love for Jesus, and that you will speak about Him wherever you go no matter who's listening. May you grow to be a man of strength and unwavering integrity in a world that is desperately looking for real men to stand up and stand firm and stand tall.

I love you with all my heart! Happy Birthday Weston! Six years is something special to celebrate!

Have Courage: Lessons with Littles

It was August of 2014.  I had just spent six weeks apartment living for the first time in my entire life of 34 years. Throw a dog and two kids into that apartment, and it was, shall we say, adventurous, but trying. Now our rental house had finally become available. The movers had come and gone, and the boxes were everywhere. I had just moved from east coast to west coast, and it was time to make a home again.

To say I was stressed and exhausted--mentally, emotionally, physically--would have been an understatement.  But if I was anything, I was calm. I was taking one bite of life at a time. I was controlled--or so I thought.

That first week in our new neighborhood, our family took a stroll down to the playground/green park field that most neighborhoods in California like to incorporate. It was a quiet, peaceful, late afternoon with the sun beginning to set, when we turned to walk our family of four and our dog Samson back to our new home.

Samson was trotting along at the end of his leash, all ten years of his contented dachshund self happy to be pulling at the end of eight feet of leash, trying to keep up with the kids skipping ahead.  When it happened.

Out of nowhere an Irish Setter, attached to a leash NOT attached to an owner, rushed my little dog, blind siding him. A rolling mass of red hair and leash began to tumble across the sidewalk in front of me, with yipping, yelping, snarling, and growling coming from within the ball of fur.

My husband quickly entered the red hair flurry, pulling the Irish Setter out by its owner-less leash.

I, on the other hand, had snapped. Something inside of me broke and for the (maybe) fifth? time in my entire life, I had an out of body experience where I was outside of my body viewing my life like a camera man panning a scene. Some of the scenes were close ups of the woman's face who had appeared on the scene as the owner of the Irish Setter. She was older, sixties, slow, confused, befuddled. A look of bewilderment smeared across her face.  Pan up, and from above, looking down, I am 12-15 inches from her face. Screaming.

I mean screaming. To this day, I do not remember what I said to her. Something about dogs needing to be on a leash. Something about her dog attacking mine. Something about what the heck was she thinking. I don't know. I just know I was red-faced and spit was flying from the corners of my mouth. Pan to the side, and my arms were flailing wildly like it was all I could do to keep from grabbing this woman and shaking her.

I remember taking a breath. She looked at me incredulously and said, "Why are you screaming at me?" And it was in that unapologetic remark, I found my second wind and began to scream again. Was that all she had to say for herself? My dog could be seriously injured. He has bad hips and a bad back, etc. etc. etc. Why would you let your dog run around the park while you sit on a bench? The screaming continued, and I realized another neighbor had entered onto the scene and swiftly inserted himself and his dog in between me and this woman, slowly creating distance between us. I must have looked like a mad woman, at least that's how I imagine it.

I turn to look to my husband for some support, some back-up. He has Samson in his arms and is already fifty yards away, back turned to me, telling the kids to head home, now. Red-faced and heaving from the exertion, I enter back inside my body and turn reluctantly to follow him home.

In the hours that follow, I fumed over the arrogance of this woman who never once apologized or even acknowledged that her dog had done something wrong. But once the fuming began to fade, I began to realize also the error of my own ways.  In the retelling of the story to people in the next few months, I openly acknowledged I owed that woman an apology. She became teasingly known as "my friend," and both my husband and my children liked to point out when we drove by the park that "my friend" was out, or she's in front of her house, or she's over there with her dog.

Six months passed and the lookout for "my friend" had not faded. Neither my husband nor my kids would let me forget I owed this lady an apology. My plan to let things die down, hoping they would forget about the incident wasn't working. Their constant reminders began to rub my pride the wrong way.  I know I was in the wrong, but so was "my friend." She started it by not tending to her dog properly. She should be the one to apologize first, especially since she hadn't apologized in the heat of the moment.  All of these arguments and reasonings and conversations played around inside my head for months.

And every time, I heard the voice of the Lord, softly and gently elbow nudge my spirit, "You know you need to apologize. It's the right thing to do." And never more than that. He wasn't nagging like the voices of my children, or slightly condescending like my husband. He wasn't making me have to do anything. But in His kindness and softness, I felt myself begin to give. I knew He was right. I knew they were all right.  I just plain didn't.want.to.do.it..

Bottom line. I didn't want to. It would require I swallow huge lumps of pride in the back of my throat. It would require an embarrassing conversation that I could foresee no good way of beginning. Apologizing to a woman who didn't even know my name, and I didn't even know hers. It was too embarrassing, too awkward of a situation. Time would pass. This would be forgotten in the long run.

Then one day in May, we were driving past her house with her car in the driveway and her Irish setter behind the fence like we had had to do every day since August to get out of our neighborhood, and my daughter pipes up very calmly from the back seat, "Mom. You just need to have courage and apologize."

Have courage. My stomach sinks, and if there was an ounce of pride left in me, it oozed out onto the floor of the car. I sighed, and gently replied, "You're right, darling. I do need to have courage."

And I began to pray that very moment, right then and there, that the Lord would provide the perfect opportunity for me to apologize. I prayed it would be on a day we weren't in a hurry trying to get somewhere on time. I prayed my kids would be in the car with me, so they could see me apologize. I prayed that the woman would be alone in the park, mostly to cut down on my own embarrassment.  I began to pray for these things every time, every day, we had to drive past that green space and her house.

And to be honest, there were days we were in a hurry, and she was in the park. I told the kids we didn't have time to stop. Excuses. There were days I saw her out in the park with other dogs and neighbors. I told the kids she looked busy. Excuses. There were days I saw her alone, but the kids weren't in the car, so I drove right on by. Excuses.

Let me tell you, living a life full of excuses is unpleasant, and every time I passed that park, I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. It dawned on me that living a life of excuses was just as uncomfortable as the conversation I knew I needed to have to make the apology. It was really a simple matter of will I keep making the wrong choice or do the hard thing and follow through with the right choice. Both seemed equally uncomfortable at this point.

And I began to contemplate my daughter's rather insightful perception at the age of seven, that to apologize, to confess my wrong behavior--without the expectation of an apology in return!--that act really would and does embody the definition of courage. Wikipedia defines courage as "the choice and willingness to confront agony, pain, danger, uncertainty or intimidation. Physical courage is courage in the face of physical pain, hardship, death or threat of death, while moral courage is the ability to act rightly in the face of popular opposition, shame, scandal or discouragement."

Have courage. All the circumstances surrounding why I had acted the way I had acted really didn't matter. The fact that the other party involved had no reaction or an inappropriate reaction really didn't matter. Courage is a personal choice. And in the case of a child of God, it is an act of obedience, a personal choice that God calls me to make out of obedience to Him and His hand on my life. And while to that woman, my choice would not look like courage to her, it would be the poster illustration of courage to my watching children.

And my children were watching. I had asked them to have courage for almost a year now. Placing them in new surroundings, new schools, new church classes, new routines, new after-school activities, new everything.  I had thrown them in and preached courage to them. Praised them for their bravery and fortitude and good attitudes. It was time to practice what I preached.

So almost a year later, one day in July, the Lord answered every one of my specific prayers, and once again in my pride, I was going to drive past that park, fingers crossed, hoping the kids didn't see the Irish Setter running around. Nope. "Moooommm!! There she is! When are you going to apologize?"

My pride oozed out onto the floor of my car once more. U-turned at the stop sign. Parked in front of the park. Walked hesitantly up to the woman, introduced myself with a hand shake, and apologized for my behavior almost a year ago. She had the same befuddled look on her face. She began to make excuses for her dog, something about how her dog thought smaller dogs were rabbits? I bit my tongue and simply apologized again for my inappropriate behavior. She smiled briefly and said, "Well, it must not have been too bad if I don't remember it." Shaking my hand again, she told me again her name was Freida, I said mine was Jennifer, wished her a great day, and returned to my car.

Both kids were smiling ear to ear and giving me their thumbs up. Something in me felt lighter, less burdened. Free.

I didn't even know I had been imprisoned.  Bothered, yes. Troubled, maybe. But imprisoned? No, the freedom I have felt driving past Freida's house every day since definitely points to the fact I had been imprisoned by the sin of my pride in this matter.

And it makes me wonder how many other little things, small sins, little bothers, small troubles are actually keeping me in chains, are keeping me from being able to live life with a freedom most people only dream of. For how many years have these sins--supposedly forgotten, supposedly in my past, supposedly swept under the rug--for how many years have some of them held my life captive? In what other ways am I living a life of cowardice instead of courage in the eyes of my children? 

I realized that to willingly humble oneself is the most courageous human act. (Philippians 2: 3-11) My children even recognized this. My ability to admit my mistakes, confess when I was wrong, willingly own my failures--this was courage. This was how my children would learn to be courageous.

I also realized that sins of the past don't have an expiration date. They wouldn't expire until they were confessed and forgiven. Sometimes that means asking forgiveness of others if those others are still available to ask, but I find that more often it means asking forgiveness for myself and recognizing that all those little supposedly insignificant sins add up to a lifetime of living excuses in one area or another. Jesus always knows how to forgive perfectly. I just had to ask.

Suddenly conviction became a beautiful gift. I wanted to confess every sin. I wanted to apologize every chance I got. I was overwhelmed by just how easy it could be to be truly free, truly unencumbered. I just had to let go of me and grab hold of Jesus instead. Once again, His way, His path, led directly to freedom. 

Have courage. Let go of you and grab hold of Jesus instead. Huh....easier typed than lived.  After all, it took me almost a year just to make one apology. I'm praying next time I can at least cut that time frame in half;)

Sand or Stone? Living with Grief

Two years. Two years and I now recognize a pattern in my life. The month of May passes and the weight lifts, summer is on the horizon, and it's time to take some ground, conquer some fears, remember her life and live mine with joy!

Then December comes and random thoughts begin to flood the recesses of my mind. Small moments throughout the days catch me by surprise with vivid memories of her laugh, her smile, her hug. In the rush of the holidays, I don't allow myself to grieve. This is the time of year to rejoice! So I push through and smile and sing Christmas carols and save her memory for another day.

Then January rolls around and it's her birthday month and from that point on, from the day of her birth here on earth until her heavenly birthday in May the pictures begin to show up on Instagram and Facebook, and I. Can't. Stop. The memories.

And I wrestle with the Lord because she should be here. It's not right. It's not good. It's not loving that she's not here. And I'm faced again with the harsh reality--yet also my deepest comfort--that God's ways are not my ways. (Deuteronomy 29:29) And her memory reminds me to stay humble because just when you think you've got God figured out is exactly when you don't.

I have experienced loss before her. I have lost grandparents and have even weathered a miscarriage. Somehow the loss of someone older was expected, not easier to bare mind you, but expected. That fits the flow of all life. We live, grow old, and die. The older pass before the younger, sometimes earlier than we like, but still a reasonable assumption.

The miscarriage was the loss of a life I'd never know, a child I'd never hold. That loss was not easier, but less connected. The hardest part was not understanding in full who you were grieving because everyone deserves to be known.

But at nineteen? At nineteen the whole world should be ahead of you. You are connected to everyone around you and all the hopes and dreams of the possibilities before you. You have a past that is full and meaningful and a future that is bright. Selfishly I think, I had poured some of the best of me into her. I was suppose to live long enough to see her pour it back into the world. She was suppose to grieve my death one day.

Instead, two years ago, her death ripped a cataclysmic black hole into the universe of my beliefs, my life. And God has allowed her death to pour more meaning back into my life than I thought possible, than I knew was possible.

People may believe this move to California has changed me, that the process of the move has been the catalyst for change in my life. I'm here to tell you it was her death that left me marked.

It was her death at age 19 that God used to show me I have nothing figured out, nothing is in my control, and at the end of the day, no matter what, all I have left is Him.

When the storm washes away all the sand at the foundation of how you live your life, what that foundation is ultimately built upon at the bottom is all that stands. It's from that point you get to reset.

I fail everyday, but with the bones of my structure exposed two years ago, I got the chance to make some new choices. Was I going to continue filling in around my foundation with the sands of busyness, of false idols in family and friends, of ambition, of pride, of control? Or would I make a different choice this time?

No. Trust. Trust in the God of my salvation are the stones I will choose this time. Trust and faith, altar stones that come in shapes and sizes I don't understand or often know how to fit together, each one different from the rest. I have to wait to place them, one at a time, at His direction, at my Master Builder's pace. And He has been faithful to build in me a stronger foundation than I've ever had before.

Yet there are still times when I rush, when I get impatient, when I want the busyness, the pride, the control, the false idols back in my life that I try to pour those sands onto these new rocks. And the sand seeps into the crevices and holes of my foundation, and it sticks, it stays, and it rubs me raw, and it sits until the next rain comes, the next wave, the next storm, the next tsunami.

Then all that sand washes away.  Again.  Once more.  Painfully. (Matthew 7:24-27)

But this time at my foundation I realize there are more stones left behind than from the storm before. I'm not starting over from scratch every time God strips the rubbing sands out of my life, the things that won't hold up in the storm. There's a larger foundation to start over with than the storm before. And sometimes it scares me because I can't help but borrow trouble and think, "What exactly are you preparing me for, Lord?"

There's never an answer to this question. He just holds out more stones of faith and trust, and I stand there, staring at Him. Will I take them? Will I continue to build the foundation of my life with Him? Do it His way?

How can I not? Did He not send His only Son to die for my sin? Did not He too rip open a black hole in His own universe by turning His back on that Son in His own holiness? God, of all people, of anyone knows the greatest of griefs, the greatest of sufferings. His innocent Son died for my salvation, for my eternity at His own command. His innocent, perfect, only child. (John 3:16)

If in my own grief, I hope I live a life that honors the memory of my daughter-sister-friend, how can I not choose to live a life that honors my Savior-Lord-Father-Friend as well? Even more so!!! How can I not simply build my life as an altar with the stones of His choosing?
Isn't that the very least I can do?

And praise Jesus! He's actually alive and well and present and willing and able to equip me to honor Him with my life!! (2 Peter 1:3-8, 2 Timothy 3:16-17)

How can I not?

And so the wrestling with God ends, and her death takes on a new life in my life Every. Single. Time. By bringing me full circle back to the truth of my Jesus' death for me.

That's really all that matters, and the truth is, that's really all that ever will. My lesson in life these days: The grass will never be greener anywhere else but in Jesus' yard.
It's time for me to stop looking.

Maybe, by God's grace, I can teach my kids to stop looking as well. Maybe.

What is it that has marked you recently? That has ripped a black hole in your universe? That makes you wrestle with God? Through the pain, can you see the good yet? Are you determined that your life will grow joy out of that pain? Or are you still lost in the black hole, in the pain?

Keep wrestling. (Genesis 32:22-32) Do the hard thing and work it out. Do the mental work. Do the heart work. Do the soul work it takes to wrestle with God. You might end up physically limping in the end, but my guess is you will also end up eternally blessed--you AND those that follow you.

Put your back into it, and do the work it takes to place those stones of trust and faith at the foundation of your life--the life God Himself has designed and destined. Only He has the blueprints. Only He knows where to place those stones. Put down your bags of sand, which may pour out easier, but ultimately weigh more than those stones, and all that sand WILL wash away. It's just a matter of time.

Today I choose the Rock. Today I place another stone of trust. "He only is my Rock and my Salvation, My stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken." Psalm 62:2 (The soundtrack to this blog in my head right now: Meredith Andrew's song Your Kingdom Reigns.)

Not by might nor by power, but by His Spirit alone! (Zechariah 4:6) Amen!

.........
"The breath of the Almighty gives me life. Job 33:4"
In loving memory of Savannah Joy Veale.
Today you dance two years in heaven. Oh the stories you can tell!