"The Word of the Day is..."

IF I were participating in this amazing thing over at aliedwards.com, in what she calls the "One Little Word" project (and I'm not saying I'm not. But I'm not saying I am either. Agh! The inappropriate, weird pressure I put on myself to do every amazing thing I see!) where you focus on, and sort of scrapbook/journal the story of the way that word unfolds in your life for the entire year (!!!), I happen to already have my word.

I just, by coincidence, think God wants me to think about this word.

I just happen to have a feeling about this word. (Can you tell I'm trying to believe I don't have to do the big committed projecty thing just because I have a word?)

It is LOOK.

And He is speaking it to me: "Look."

My K-gartner reads a lot of Dick & Jane, which is perfect for him. He gets such a feeling of success reading multiple stories that use the same twelve words.

A primary word in the stories is "Look." It is a building block. It points to something worth noticing.

God is saying "Look!" to me. He's pointing to the ways in which He is working all around me and through me. He's saying "This is really worth noticing! Check out what I'm doing here." 

Is my word "Look" because I'm so tempted to put my nose to the grindstone and keep on keepin' on? Or is it because I'm tempted to think everything is really about me and the good things I'm doing? Or is it because I focus on the wrong part of the equation at times, miss the bigger picture, and fail to have an eternal perspective? 

So many good reasons. I like it. I'm going with it. It's my word for 2011.

Funny that this verse comes to mind. Do you know it? It's Isaiah 43:18-19:

Do not remember the past events,
pay no attention to things of old. 
Look, I am about to do something new;
even now it is coming. Do you not see it?
Indeed, I will make a way in the wilderness,
and rivers in the desert.

Funny, because it is a little inside joke between God and I. Several years ago, this was the verse I was fixed on. It was MY verse. Then I got a little tired of it, I wasn't really "feeling" it anymore, so I asked God to give me a new verse. I wanted something fresh to inspire me. God probably first laughed, and then whispered to me one way or another that His Word  never. expires.

And so it's funny of Him to renew it's meaning in my life. Once again. Still MY verse.

I get it. I'm opening my eyes.


{Today I'm linking up with Amy's blog-full-of-awesome {that's not the name of it - just a dumb phrase that just came to mind} with thoughts on the New Year. You should check it out because she's a super cool girl who happens to be really good with a camera, not to mention lots of other things. You can meet her here, at Lucky Number 13.} And I used {these} because she really likes them too.

Rising Up

Happy New Year, everyone!

This is how we celebrated today.
We dropped everything and enjoyed the day in all its splendor.
(And after that last post - whew that was heavy - I had to share our glorious day)

I was brimming with joy in my heart for no reason

and for every reason.

I'm sure it had something to do with getting out and being in my favorite outdoor spot.

But mostly it had to do with Glory. 

These lyrics by Chris Tomlin were sounding off in my head, over and over.

Holy is the Lord God Almighty

The earth is filled with His glory

It's rising up, all around

The anthem of the Lord's renown

All around, people. Do you see it?

Do you hear the anthem, the unstoppable chorus of praise rising up outside today?

I can't wait to show you the rest of the moments captured from our day.
So much goodness and glory. 

Welcome 2011.  

Backstory for 2010

It's the last day of the year.

And in light of my last post and my thoughts on being transparent, I thought I would take a step in that direction with you. I want to be transparent with you about where I'm coming from, recently.

Because it's tempting, probably, to wonder if I have it all together. It's tricky to look at my last post on Cake & Cotton, my other, less serious blog, and think I have always been pouring out crafty goodness. I haven't been, for the past few years. Yes, I've wanted to...and I've had some outlets. But I haven't had the room in my heart to be all I was created to be. I was in too much pain.

To be frank, my husband and I are coming out of our hardest season yet. We've been married thirteen years, and suffice it to say that the first half of 2010 was not good. Neither was 2009. Or 2008. It's been a while since I've consistently felt something other than striving to keep my head above water, emotionally.

And I'm taking a risk here, since even those closest to us haven't really been inside our doors. Right? No one really knows what's going on in your home, in your marriage. Do they? And now, as a family, we are experiencing a new, heavenly normal, by the sheer grace and power and work of God. I cannot emphasize enough that it is all Him. It was Him in the beginning, and in the middle, and in the end of our trials. (But of course, we never really reach the end, until heaven.) Always Him, at work.

I feel like I'm rambling. There are so many directions I could go with this post. So many thoughts, lessons learned, and ways I could sum up my year with words. And I am starting to cry because there are so many ways I could have gone in my pain too. Through those many trying months, I was alone in my own home, in my own marriage. My husband and I seemed to be in very different and conflicting universes. There was so much strife and we rarely found connection.

Here's the thing. I tried fixing it in lots and lots of ways. Good and right ways. For a long time, I tried...so hard. My love and commitment for my husband wasn't enough. All the while, God kept whispering this phrase to me: Let me do my work. Oh, but didn't He need a little help? Surely He didn't want me to stop "trying". And surely I could make it all "work" more quickly. All my efforts were such a failure, which led me to a phase of frustration and feeling so ineffective. I had all this pent up anger at not being able to change anything. I wasn't angry at my husband, but I still wanted to punch something. I wanted to hit a windshield with a bat. I desperately wanted to make something move.

Still: Let me do my work. At this point of pain and frustration and anger, I know most people medicate. Whether it's TV or pills or overcommitting so nothing stops spinning long enough to really feel.....But I've never been big on the effects of chemicals in my body, and everything else just leaves you so empty. Everything but Jesus makes it worse. And I knew that.

I finally stopped trying. I was too empty, too hurt, too alone. I was past prayer. Way past prayer. I had nothing else to ask for. In fact, I had no more words at all. I was, as I so often use the phrase, at the end of myself. All I could think to do was posture myself on the carpet, like I had read Elijah did in I Kings 18. The Bible says that when he wanted God to send rain during a famine, he "bent down to the ground and put his face between his knees" (v.42). It doesn't say whether or not he prayed. It simply describes a posture of utter humility. Elijah knew he couldn't make it rain. He did it seven times before his friend saw a tiny cloud in the distance.

I brought my pain to the carpet, weeping silently as I'd learned to do after all were in bed,. Night after night, tear after tear, my nose smelling the cheap carpet fibers, my body sort of in Child's Pose. It was a horrible season, and at the same time, it was where I found my life. I can't describe what happened, actually. I can't put into words what healing feels like when it's whispered in the wee hours of the morning in the core of your soul. I can't list out the ways God became so real to me, met me over the course of many months, told me that I was His beautiful bride. I can't describe how it was more than everything I needed, and somehow more than I'd ever had. You have to experience it. And I have a feeling that you have to get to a really awful place first. Empty out before you can fill up.

One thing I can say is that worked. Whether our marriage had come around or not, bringing all my emotion and need before God was finally the right choice. After all the trying and working and talking - gosh, the hours of wasted talking - my heart spread out all over the carpet worked. Isn't it exactly what He wanted all along? It wasn't literally being on the carpet, of course. For me, it just happened that my body reflected where I was on the inside. The posture, utter humility. And unfortunately, I was there because I had no other recourse. In the future, I pray I'll go there with my pain a lot sooner. Like first.

So the second half of 2010, God brought heaps of healing between my husband and I. Once God got me under control, He DID do His work. Heaps and heaps of healing and blessing and refreshment have been ours. And a magical thing has happened; I've been perhaps more free than I ever have been to be me. In all my gifts and inspirations and passions, I want to show God off because He has made my cup overflow with....I can't even pinpoint it. Joy? Life? Love? All of the above, and more.

To wrap up, I thought it was fitting with my story to share a portion of Oswald Chambers' words, from his daily devotional My Utmost for His Highest, on the last page of the year:

Our yesterdays present irreparable things to us; it is true that we have lost opportunities which will never return, but God can transform this destructive anxiety into a constructive thoughtfulness for the future. Let the past sleep, but let it sleep on the bosom of Christ.

Leave the Irreparable Past in His hands, and step out into the Irresistible Future with Him.

In 2011, help me remember to let all my worry, hurt, anxiety, and loss - past and present - sleep on the bosom of Christ.

Because that works.

Seeing right through me

Christmas break is so fun. We are truly enjoying it. We've been visiting family and friends the last few days, and are now back home, ready to organize and regroup. But yesterday, we went to the California Science Center in L.A. This place is amazing. (And possibly the most amazing part is that it is totally free.)

One of our favorite stops was the Ecosystems exhibit. The balmy Desert Room housed tortoises and staged flash floods. The chilly Polar Room had a giant polar bear pelt, one wall made of ice, and a snowmobile (a.k.a. "little boy magnet") you could sit on. But my favorite part was the underwater exhibit. Large aquarium tanks held bizarre fish and morey eels and sand sharks. Small tanks held all sorts of other beautiful creatures, some creepy, some breathtaking.

The tank housing these guys stopped me short. I grabbed my son's camera from his neck and snapped these.



They are Aurelia Aurita, or Moon Jellyfish.

What I instantly thought: "What if God made us completely transparent?"

We watched one jellyfish take in particles of food, and then we could see those same particles on its insides.

Total transparency. Think about it. What if everyone else could see what we took in? Not just food...I mean what we took into our minds and our hearts, what was churning around on our insides. What if no one could hide anything?

Then my mom-in-law pointed out something very interesting. It looked as if only a few jellies were in the tank. But no....a closer look revealed that perhaps twenty or more were in there. We could only clearly see the ones that floated up toward the light at the top of the tank. The rest swirled around, waiting their turn to float upward, in the total darkness below. And when they did float up, it seemed as if they were materialising out of nothing. It was quite mesmerizing to watch.

And memorable. Late that night, when the rest of the house was still, my husband, mom-in-law and I, with tea and PJ's, talked about the strange jellies. We talked about transparency. We talked about what happens to a human life when it moves toward the Light, this time meaning the exposing truth of God.

Nothing can be hidden from God. When we finally decide to place our lives into His hands, we must surrender to total transparency with Him. There, our true selves become more clear, though it can be an uncomfortably revealing process. He sees everything churning around inside of us, and it's never all pretty.

For me, there is no alternative to being transparent. With Him, and with you. I try to push up, up toward His light because I don't want to float around in the darkness. That's not life. In the light of the Lord, I can see myself and my purpose the most clearly. He reveals me. He shows me beauty in myself I know I could not otherwise see. Even if everyone else is gawking through the glass at how odd I seem, in His light is where I am me.

This passage from Psalm 139 speaks to our transparency before God so well. Is anyone else a little uncomfortable at this intimate knowing God has of us? Oh, thank goodness He has also made it clear that love is intertwined in every phrase.

O Lord, you have examined my heart
and know everything about me.
You know when I sit down or stand up.
You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.
You see me when I travel
and when I rest at home.
You know everything I do.
You know what I am going to say
even before I say it, Lord.
You go before me and follow me.
You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too great for me to understand!

I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me.
I could ask the darkness to hide me
and the light around me to become night—
but even in darkness I cannot hide from you.
To you the night shines as bright as day.
Darkness and light are the same to you.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body
and knit me together in my mother’s womb.
Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!
Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it.
You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion,
as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.
You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed.

How precious are your thoughts about me, O God.
They cannot be numbered!
I can’t even count them;
they outnumber the grains of sand!

Psalm 139: 1-18 
(NLV)

{Today I'm linking up with Ann's blog for Walk With Him Wednesdays, a collection of posts on simple ways we can draw closer to Him}

Still unwrapping

Christmas is winding down. In 59 minutes, the day will will be officially done.

I took a little post-Christmas inventory at one point today. It was a slur of thoughts, really, pouring into my tired head. It went something like this.

Whew. OK. Man, am I tired. I didn't realize I'd been powering it out until it was over and now I want to sleep for three days. But did I do enough? Did my kids "get" it? Did we read the right passages, talk about why Jesus came, and focus enough on selfless giving? And what about how they'll remember me? Was I happy and joy-filled enough to outweigh my stressed, busy and distracted moments? Did I read them the books, do the crafts, bake, and create a magical season for everyone in my home? 

Kinda silly, right? It didn't take me long to realize hear in my Spirit that Christmas wasn't at all over.

Christmas isn't a thing wrapped in shiny paper only to be ripped open, enjoyed and then tossed aside, like every other gift.

It is for every day. Emmanuel was born on Christmas. But His birth was only a beginning, of course. And I am only at the beginning of learning how to receive His gifts.

Truly receive them.

It's hard. Sometimes I shove them away. Peace? No thanks, I think I can handle this on my own. Forgiveness? Not today, because I really feel more comfortable punishing myself a while longer. Rest? Who has time for that?

And sometimes I just leave them under the tree. Unopened. I'm sure there are times I don't even notice the gifts from Jesus sitting right in front of me. I can't list them out because I don't know what they are. I'm just missing out. Neglecting my relationship with the Giver.

So I wanted to tell you this. It's not over. Christmas is a beginning. Perhaps you need a fresh one. I say take it. Run over to the tree, slide down onto your knees, grab it with both arms and shred that paper like a five-year old on Christmas morning.

Some of you have a mental picture of exactly what that looks like. Embrace all He wants to offer you today. There are no gifts more valuable than His love. His forgiveness. His companionship. Oh, do you know what it's like to be His friend?

Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, I want to be a child at Christmas, still unwrapping.

Still.

Pick me, Pick me

OK, It's voting week on My First Kitchen.

If you want to vote for my "Cookie & a Story" you can do so HERE. 

You have to find my name, Leslie, on the list about three-fourths of the way down.

You can vote once a day until next Tuesday. Cool, huh?

Thanks guys & have a merry day!

Not what I was gonna say

I sat down to write about something else. I had some thoughts about Christmas and how we rightly prioritize telling the "story of Jesus" to our kids, but how He then gets contained to being a character in a story instead of being described as a real, living, person who wants us every day. I have a post about this I need to write.

But I totally got hijacked in my heart.

Ann did it. She has this blog where she hijacks me alot, alot. Her words are crazy, what they can do.

And I just read this post of hers which happens to be on words, and our responsibility to them.

I am stopped in my tracks right now because she echoes a prayer in me that runs so deeply, I cannot ever escape it. I have this thing with words. They are my blessing and my curse. My use of them is, at different times, both the source of my greatest fulfillment and my deepest shame, depending on how I use them. Or rather, who's in charge of them. And so that deep-running prayer is more than that; it's a plea for God to grow me in such a way that I build others up, instead of tear them down.

God's words: “When you talk, do not say harmful things, but say what people need—words that will help others become stronger.“ Ephesians 4:29 (NCV)

Ann's words: Mamas make strong.

I read all these words - for heaven's sake, read the post - and my heart is beating the familiar rhythm of my plea.

My words: Please Lord, help me make strong.

It's not Please Lord, help me be strong. I want to make (others) strong.

A whole lot of thoughts are circling about how it happens, the making strong, as a mother and as a woman. So many pieces are in that puzzle. But I do know it is impossible to do alone. I need Jesus for this, helping guide and shape my words. I need friends for this, influencing my vision, offering grace. And first I need to realize that I need so much more than I am.

I'm not talking about an endless striving to be better and more, which is the instinct we women have to fight against. I'm talking about giving up the illusion that we are self-sufficient. Surrendering the burden we place on ourselves to keep everything smooth. The opposite of striving, really. And letting Him in to be the Word.

Ann reminds me of the scripture: the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.  This is what Christmas means, and from the beginning, Jesus was called the Word.

The Word nurtures and fills and breathes into me everything I need, when I let Him, and only then do I have words to make strong. But if I am deluded into thinking I can run on yesterday's strength, I better keep my mouth (and my keyboard) shut. Because I believe this: 

(more of Ann's words, from her profile page:) The only words that really matter are the ones I live.