thank you

Dear Dad and Mom,

Thank you for inviting us to spend Christmas with you. We loved being there! It was so good to hear your noises, eat with you, slow down and getting some good rest, enjoy good gifts and blessing. We love you.

David, Anna and Sophia

thank you

Dear John Paul, Sarah, Nina, Jack, Luke and Noel,

We love being with you in your new home, meeting your church, playing music, snuggling, eating yummy meals, watching performances, digging holes, talking and praying and crying and laughing and thinking with you. We love being your family. Thank you for carefully planning, welcoming, opening yourselves and your home to us. We love you so, so much.

David, Anna and Sophia

don't read ;)

Tim Mackie said this in a sermon recently, "If you are comfortable with your view of God and theology, just don't read the Bible, ok?"

a half year later

Well, I wrote this six months ago and I’ve failed. My bold statements ring in the back of my mind when I spend too long on facebook; when I walk away from a significant and uncomfortable conversation; when I actually prefer to wear the same four, neutral colored shirts every day; when I am groggy and irritated because I stayed up too late; when I realize how distant I am from ‘gospel fluency;’ when I am controlling because I am needy, but don’t want to admit it; when Sophia is crying, but I just don’t want to play with her yet so I let her cry too long; when I wear worry or fear for the future; when I give a distracted or awkward hug or dart down the aisle so I don’t have to make eye contact or talk right now; when I put off writing thank you notes; when I procrastinate on my to-do list and making those phone calls again; when we eat Papa Murphy’s again; when I intend to meet with my friend but put it off again; when I realize that I haven’t prayed again; when criticism reigns in my spirit or gloom and laziness are the rule.

So, I guess I want to say this, I am 35 ½ today and I am not awesome.

But I unfold to realize that that’s the point—or a least part of the point. I am not awesome;

God is awesome.

If I was awesome, it wouldn’t matter how awesome God was. But as is the case, I am lame, fickle, self-consumed, fearful, spiteful, half-hearted and in desperate need of Him. Again. I need him in the early morning, to show me his word and re-form my mind, lead my heart. I need his patience and joy while I care for my girl. I need the freedom and courage he brings in order to work heartily. I need his direction for the future—for money, for friendships, for ...everything. I need his passion as I step out my door. And as I come back in the door. I need him to teach me how to pray. Again. I need to remember how he has been present as I live in the sorrow. I need to remember the wonders he has done. Shoot, I can’t laugh at the days to come unless he sparks that in me. I need his sight if I am to hope or love or believe. I need to remember that there was one sacrifice for sins and that sacrifice has been paid. Once. Not again, but just once. And it’s finished. I need to remember grace and forgiveness. And that these are true things. Independent of me.

I am lame. But he says to my soul, “Walk. Get up and walk, girl!” He says, “In repentance and rest shall be your salvation; in quietness and trust shall be your strength.” And he says, “My grace is sufficient for you; my power is made perfect in weakness.” So, today I lean back. I smile slow and say, “Okay!” And I’m off to shower and sing. And stumble and live. Again.

Because He is awesome.