Hope in Jesus

It's Easter morning.

The small boys are up before the sun. They pull the bigger people out of bed. Then they hunt for eggs and search for baskets and root through the house. They're little- boy-wild.

I watch them run. Morning is a sliver of light through the curtains. There are rumpled heads and cold, bare feet and warm, soft pjs because the day is a newborn.

It's fresh and young.

And I watch my family. There's been struggle and strife and healing needs to come.

Life, these weeks, has been a trial.

It weighs on me, tugging, pulling, unwilling to set me free.

We scurry around the house. I lift eggs and bread from the oven. It will soon be time for church. But just when I'm moving through the motions, just when there's longing in my soul, a son pulls his guitar from beside the piano.

 And a song of praise fill our home.

There's the clatter of dishes and the voices of the children. There's work to do to get us all out the door.

But the music, the peace, the beauty washes over me. Somehow it fills the empty places. Somehow it shifts my focus and makes rough edges smooth. Somehow it directs my heart.

To Jesus.

 And He is Risen. He is Risen, indeed.

 

 

 

\

 

My heart, bound up tight, uncurls. I can almost feel it in my chest. It's yielding.

It opens to celebrates the promise.

Life is real. There are real struggles and real hurts and real disappointments. Real mistakes. Real regrets. Real aches in the souls of those we love and we can't always be the balm.

But we have a real Savior.

And He is Risen.

And there is hope.

You've overcome death, Jesus. You've defeated evil. You've risen and You've brought victory.

I'll live on the resurrected side of Your cross, Lord.

I'll live where Your light shines.

The morning sun now stretches in stripes over the living room floor. It spills over our table, too. It fills our space.

Darkness scatters.

The boys need button-down shirts and black, Sunday shoes. They need shampoos and socks. And the house is a crazed mess of bright, plastic eggs and blue Easter grass.

Doesn't matter.

It's almost time to go worship, and I can't get there soon enough.

I want to join the celebration for the Risen King.

Jesus, You are Lord of all.

Who I Am in Christ

"Okay, Mom, see you later!" Zay says.

There's a swift kiss, a smile, and he's headed for the door with our friends. Isaiah and his buddy are wearing matching Chewbacca Christmas-gift pajamas. It's January-cold and a pj play date is the perfect thing.

They make Wookie sounds as they go. They wear faux-fur hoods. Their smiles are galaxy-wide and they are beautifully, completely comfortable being exactly who they are.

Little boys.


In a world that pushes our children to grow too fast, this delights me.

It also brings introspection. Am I as comfortable in being who I am? Do I embrace and walk with confidence in the reality of my identity in Christ?

The questions hit my heart because a friend and I recently had coffee and conversation. The kind where mugs are filled over and over because we go soul-deep. We spoke of our similar spiritual struggle - being tethered to the old-self by cords of insecurity and fear. Maybe it's past circumstance. Maybe it's old scars that want to bleed fresh. Maybe it's habit. Whatever the reason, there is a call to take every fearful, thought-of-unworthiness to the obedience of Christ.

And there's the opportunity to see myself the way that God sees me.

Because I'm a follower of Jesus, I have a new identity. Because He's the lover of my soul, His righteousness has set me free.

It's mercy. It's the heartbeat of grace.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 2 Corinthians 5:21 NIV

Embracing this truth stirs gratitude. It brings the sweetest form of joy. The embrace is the chain-breaker that brings freedom from fear.

I can let go of shame.

I can be defined by grace and not guilt.

I can walk, with confidence, into the life and calling and circumstances that He brings.

The Wookies leave, and as the door slams and quiet swells, I give this truth some thought...

My friend and I - we'll encourage one another to claim our new identities. We'll pray for one another to live and breathe the gift of grace. We'll look at one another, straight on, and remind each other of exactly who we are.

And with time and growth, we'll wear the confidence and strength of grace and as comfortably as our own skin. Like little boys who wear Star Wars pajamas, play all day, and live with easy-powerful acceptance in being just who they are supposed to be.

They are little boys.

And we are women who, because of Jesus, walk in righteousness and grace.

Blessing of the Small Moments

“Let’s take the convertible for a ride,” Lonny says. “Top down.” We’re elbow deep in dishes because the dishwasher is out-of-order and the fix will have to wait for funds.

“Really?” I ask. “It’s winter.”

“I know,” he says. “Let’s go.”

I look at the mess in the kitchen and then at the sun streaming through the windows. It’s an unusual sixty-five degrees. I know I should be tending to the house, laundry, and chores, but I can’t resist the longing in Lonny’s eyes. I grab my jacket and we head for the garage.

 Isaiah and Gabriel are playing hockey on the drive. “Hey guys,” I say.  “We’re going for a ride. Top down. Want to come?”

“Top down?” they ask.

I nod and they rush to rest their sticks against the garage. Soon we’re buckled in, riding along the Mississippi, warm wind on our faces.

“Having fun?” Lonny asks. “The boys are.”

I look behind me and my small sons’ arms are waving in the air. Their mouths open wide and they’re singing. Loud. Together. Even with the wind in my ears, it’s a lovely sound. I look at my husband and his grin comes from his heart.

Thank you, Jesus.

In this moment, I’m filled. Filled with joy. Filled with peace. Filled with hope because the Lord is near. What-if worry is banished. Fear for the future flees. There’s no room. In this moment there’s the here and now and I’m thankful to the Lord for the beauty of this blessing and for the instruction He gave me to live this way.

When I’m willing to live in the moment, to live day by day, life can be so sweet.

We ride  for much of the afternoon and end up in a small town up the river. We stop when the sun dips low and the air grows cool. Main street sings of vintage charm in this sweet village, and soon we're out, admiring festive window displays. We walk slowly, unrushed, but I stop still when a sign in a shop window catches my attention.

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but my the number of moments that take our breath away.

I’m blessed by the truth of it. I’ve lived this today. Standing here, several boys by my side and Lonny holding tight to my hand, my heart's desire is affirmed.

This year, I will live moment by moment. Day by day.

I want to live and breathe and appreciate what the Lord brings.

I will not let worry steal or fear destroy.

I move closer to the glass and suddenly I see my own reflection. My men gather around. I see us there, standing on the sidewalk, as we do in life. We're side-by-side together.

Oh, the big blessings of small moments...

Lord, let me be wise enough to see.

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes. Matthew 6:34 (MSG)


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WRITING NEWS:

I'm humbled and thankful to have contributed to Daily Guideposts 2016, and I'm excited to share that my son Logan contributed too - his devotion debut! It's a beautiful book. The theme for the 2016 devotional is "Abide in Me". What a precious thing, to read of the real-life, heart-deep,  meaningful moments of others and to let them help me abide daily in God's love.

 

Filled With the Spirit - Part of a Team

It’s Sunday afternoon. The maples outside the kitchen window are yellow-gold and sunshine hits the counter top in wide, gold bars. Isaiah and I are baking cookies. The weekend has been full, and this together time is a gentle reprieve.

“How much brown sugar, Mom?” he asks.

“One cup,” I say.

He roots and rattles through the baking drawer while I fish egg shells from the batter in Mamo’s mixing bowl.

“Got it,” he says. He spoons brown sugar from the canister and pats it solid with ever-growing hands.

“White sugar?” asks.

We work side-by-side. All my boys have enjoyed being in the kitchen with me, but today I’m tender inside. Isaiah is the youngest son. These opportunities are treasure.

We measure.

And sift.

And scoop.

And bake.

Later we sit at the dining room table. He sweet scent of oatmeal-chocolate-chip has drawn a couple more boys. Sam has joined us. Grant, too.

Isaiah takes a bite of cookie and grins.

“Well,” I ask. "What do you think?”

Isaiah swallows and sips from his Scooby-Doo mug. When he looks up, he wears a milk mustache.

“I think," he says. "That we make a great team."

I nod and place a cookie on my own plate. I agree. He and I do make a great team. And while I’m still soul-smiling, I remember something I’d read earlier in the day.

When we are born again, the Holy Spirit begins to work His new creation in us, and there will come a time when there is not a bit of the old order left, the old solemnity goes, the old attitude to things goes, and "all things are of God."  - Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

 

As a believer in Christ, as one soul-saved by His gift of grace, I’m filled with the Holy Spirit. I’m tender to the center to think of it. God’s holiness in me! That He would take residence in my human heart! Cleansing me. Transforming me. Empowering me. Giving me new life. And because of His Presence, I can share His love in gentle boldness. I can do the work He's prepared in advance for me to do. I can work through tough circumstances and see hope in dark places. I can push worry to the wayside and choose to walk a path of peace, leaning hard into Him and trading insecurities for trust. I can grow, stretch, change.

My focus can shift from the temporal to the eternal, and I can learn to walk in resurrection joy.

Oh, the sweet glory in a life transformed!

The boys talk and dishes clank and clatter and soon the plate of cookies is a thing of the past. Isaiah has a servant’s soul, and he helps me gather plates and clean crumbs.

And when we run water from the tap and roll up our sleeves, I’m washed over with love.

There's deep and everlasting beauty in being part of the Lord's team.

Longing for Lovely (And Finding It)

He is good to everyone, and his compassion is intertwined with everything he does. Psalm 145:9 TLB

I pull a sock from a wild tangle and then root through the basket for its match. It's Sunday night and our early Monday morning piano lesson sounds sweeter if the boys have something on their feet.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, as I search and sort, but I'm soul-sad.

I've just watched the final episode of Downton Abbey.

I loved Downton for a hundred reasons. The brilliant storyline that twisted and turned. Characters so real that their plights settled on my own soul. But if I pare it all back, past Lady Mary and Tom and sweet Mr. Bates, I will miss the beauty. The clothes. The hairstyles. The bedrooms with furnishings and fireplaces and that library rich with books and extravagant things. Even the formality of period English life, etiquette and manners and tradition, brought a crisp-lovely elegance to the ordinary.

I long for lovely.

I wonder if a woman's heart is carved this way. I don't know. But sometimes lovely is hard to find when dishwashers and toilets overflow. When the children fight. When the need to vacuum is steady as breath. When real life means the real threat of wearing second day socks.

I match two red Nikes and wonder.

"What are you doing, Mama?" Isaiah asks. He wanders into our school room, steps over heaps of laundry, and sits beside me on the sofa.

"Socks," I say.

"Oh."

Isaiah presses close and we fit, like God knew we would. He leans forward, toward the basket, and begins to sort socks. He matches one pair. Then two. And when he notices that I'm still, he looks up and smiles.

And I understand that I don't have to long for lovely.

God brings lovely to the ordinary. He places an abundance of lovely straight in the center of my day.

It's rarely loud or attention-grabbing.

It's not the shining extravagant that shines of extravagant grace.

It's in the every day. The moments so small that hold His vast love.

Lovely surrounds us because the Lord is present and He promised to never leave. Because He is Creator and creation bears His love. Because He is good enough and kind enough to provide glimpses of glory that override circumstance and bring sustaining grace.

I sit beside my son, together in this task, and know that I don't have to long for lovely.

Lovely is in the Lord.

He's been here all along.

Hatching the Day - Expectant Living

 Isaiah finds me in the schoolroom checking Gabriel's math fact sheet. He stands beside me. Close.

When I look up he's smiling - so big it shines through his green eyes.

"Will you hatch this for me?" he asks.

I'm confused. Then he pushes his hands forward. He's holding a clementine, orange and round, in the nest of his small hands.

"Sure," I say. "But Zay, fruit doesn't hatch. It's peeled."

"Okay," he says. "That's fine. But I can't wait for what's inside."

I start to peel his fruit. The skin is tight and thin and comes off in ragged strips. And while I'm peeling, I think about his words. I can't wait for what's inside.

That's how I want to open each day. Expectant. Full of hope. Ready to embrace, savor, the goodness of what is to come.

I want to expect that God will bring good things. I want to see His grace in the small moments. I want to breathe in and out, knowing He's beside me, a Father of compassion and grace, loving me, guiding me, speaking to the quiet places of my heart. No matter what the circumstances are. Even in tough times. When life leaves me weary, His Presence will bring good things.

You have let me experience the joys of life and the exquisite pleasures of your own eternal presence. Psalm 16:11 TLB

Zay waits patiently until the smooth barrier is removed from his fruit. I hand it back to him and he breaks a crescent away and pops it into his mouth.

I can see that it was worth the wait.

Zay and me.

Waiting for the wonder in sweet, hatched things.


Thank you, Lord, for being with me. Thank you, in advance, for what You'll do today...Amen.

Sweet, Small Stuff

Hi dear friends,

Hope this finds you warm, blessed,  with end-of-summer sun on your shoulders...

I'm posting over at Sozowomen today - another gentle in-the-van moment with Isaiah. Precious - how children can help open our eyes to God's wonderful things.

Here's the link. Thanks for hopping over and joining me there.

Sweet, Small Stuff

Monday blessings.

See you on Thurs!

With love,
Shawnelle