Ashlie Writes

There is so much swirling around in my heart and in my head these days.

There are a handful of half-finished blog posts sitting in my drafts folder, and even more ideas and heart ramblings jotted down in the “notes” app on my iPhone, since the ideas and revelations always seem to come to me in the midst of laundry, pushing a stroller, or cooking dinner.

A bit of honesty? There was a time not long ago that I used to be so frustrated that I never got “me” time to sit down and write. I just wanted a moment of peace to reply to emails, soak in the quiet, reflect, and let the words tumbling around in my heart pour out on the written page. And yes, I was trying to embrace the season and be the mama my kids need, an encouraging wife to my husband, but a bitter root settled inside my heart that told me I deserved a break. It whispered that I needed space, that my creativity needed room to grow.  While it might be true that I needed those things, I began to try really hard to make it happen, and every time something would thwart it. And I got mad on the inside.

Now, I’m not at all saying that we mamas don’t need a break (we do) or that God doesn’t have specific areas of gift for each of us to cultivate aside from our primary ministry in the home/workplace/etc (because He does). If you are pursuing your passion and being obedient in your priorities, please, march on, friend. I’m cheering for you.

For me, this time, it was a heart matter.

I was convinced that pouring out words as worship was the answer to my soul’s cry. Because it’s one of my passions, after all, and doesn’t God want me to use the gifts and desires that He put there? It felt like a part of my insides were being stifled, and I couldn’t help but think that getting it out onto the screen or onto paper would be the answer. A pouring of words that would bring healing to the soul.

But in the meantime? The angst growing inside because I couldn’t “get the words out” through the keyboard? I realized the the words I was living were leaking a bitter taste. Not constantly, and not even the words themselves so much as the attitude behind them. And one morning while reading in Psalm, I see this:

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting! ” – Psalm 139:23-24

I knew things were off. I could feel it in my spirit, and He was drawing me. So, I asked Him. Show me, Lord. Is there anything you see inside my heart that grieves you? Search my heart and reveal it!

God, in His mercy and grace, is always faithful to answer.

Because immediately He whispers this scripture, which I well know, into my heart and the conviction rains down hard:

“The good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure produces evil, for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.” – Luke 6:45

Ouch.

This lesson is not one that is unfamiliar to me. In fact, I’ve heard it often and learned it a few times, but my heart is so wayward and needs to be calibrated by truth daily.

In all of my good intentions to pour out the written word as an offering (and I still believe God has put that in my heart for a purpose), I’d let things slip into being more about me than anything else. Even though it was put in a pretty package of “passion” and “outlet” and “ministry”. My words and actions in my daily life with my children, in my home, were a direct compromise to the words I was planning to serve on the platter of my blog in hopes of encouraging others.  I was in fact, doing the opposite of encouragement inside my own home. The energy I was spending sulking about my lack of “time” and wanting to chase dreams was taking away from energy that should have been invested in my family, friends, and those close to me.

I was so desperate to pour out, to “be used by God” (which IS good thing, I believe), when in the meantime, I didn’t realize the good I was withholding from those I hold dear, the ways God wanted to use me to love them. It was a slow fade. I’m not one to lose my temper easily, and time has taught me to hold my tongue before lashing out.

But I’m weak, and my heart is a wretched thing that needs Jesus and His grace, and my mouth often needs the washing of the Word, because the things that spring forth out of it some days? Pure bitterness. I could see it in my attitude, and I started to sense the effects of it in my children. I began to lose my patience more often, my words became sharper, and I’m ashamed to admit the amount of times I lost my temper during that time.

I realized that this completely backwards, a house-of-cards fallacy to believe I can pour out words of grace on the written page when the words spilling out of my heart in my home and sphere of influence were the exact opposite.

I was grieved, utterly.

The truth? Those inside the walls of my home, in my church, in my community, are my passion, my ministry, and they need my encouragement the most. The life I live in my home is what validates anything I portray online. One must live with integrity before being able to write with integrity. This truth is one that I’ve recited to myself often and believe emphatically, and would even proclaim wholeheartedly…but the slip of the heart is a subtle thing.

I can’t expect for love, truth, and grace to flow out of the same heart where bitterness lies. It just doesn’t work, and I’d be a hypocrite.

I’m thankful for His reproof, for His weeding out of a bitter root, and that the season of wandering (at least in this area) wasn’t prolonged. It will be something I need to keep in close check, all the time. 

I don’t know that I will ever be a consistent blogger. Maybe. God might change things up next week, or next month, or next year, because I’m learning as our hearts are tuned to Him, He has a way of expanding time and space and fills it with His plans, His goodness. In fact, since this heart-correcting several weeks ago…I’ve gotten ironically gotten multiple opportunities to sit quietly, to write, and my husband actually asked me this week to plan some time to get away and write while he watches the babies (um, brownie points, anyone?!)

It’s almost like God’s saying, “see? This verse? Um, hello, it’s TRUE.” :

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” – Matthew 6:33

So, I know God is moving, refining me to carry the weights and joys that He has for me. I’m excited, however great or small they may be.

I love this online place, I pray for it often, and it’s God’s business what happens here, through the deep thinking and the lighthearted ramblings, through the kid stories. Because, you guys know, it seems to look different every time I open my computer to type.

In the meantime, I’ll write when I can, and I’ll love it. I’m excited to continue sharing my heart here, because part of being obedient is doing that, too. It might be every day for a week, and then nothing for a month. Who knows. God is slowly revealing His vision for me, for this place, but it’s a process, and I’m learning. I have dreams and plans that I’m not giving up on, but I’m giving them to Jesus and in His timing, He’ll take care of them.I’m just along for the ride.

And when it’s quiet over here? I’m being a wife, a mama, and a friend. I’m busy enjoying walks, toddler tea parties, date nights and texting with my husband while he’s working a long night shift, folding laundry, rocking a teething baby, making dinner, finding time to take a shower, having coffee with a friend, drinking in His word that I am so thirsty for, and praying earnestly that God guides each and every step through it all. I love and SO treasure this online community, and am so thankful for the friends I have here. I pray they continue. When push comes to shove, I choose my family, hands down. I know you guys already know this, but I just need to say it for me. This is not some mantra to show you where I stand or to impose unnecessary burden on anyone else. I even debated about writing it.  It’s just because I’m putting a stake down for me, saying, “yes, Lord, do this work in my heart…I’m saying yes.” I’ll probably struggle with it again, and this is just part of the journey.

And I’m sharing it with you all.

Because truthfully, I can’t come over here and write when things aren’t as they should be at home. I just can’t. It makes the words over here just seem fake and fluff, and that’s not who I am or who I’m called to be. To see myself straddling that line puts an inch-thick layer of disgust in my heart.

It’s gotta be honesty and truth and real and messy and being led by Him and for Him, or nothing at all.

Thank you to all of you for being here and sticking with me in this journey, words fail me for gratitude.

Lord, help me, fill me, and lead me…

“And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” – Colossians 1:17

I can see her in my mind’s eye.

I like her. She’s one of those people that you just….love. Not because she’s perfect, but she’s just grace and giving, some days gentle and others crazy.

She smiles a lot. Not because she has to, and not because she is never sad. Because, oh, the sadness and the empty echoes hard on some days. Probably harder than anyone knows, and not as often as we might think, because she’s chosen to make joy her song. But when the resolve weakens, she’s crumpled under sheets or hanging tightly to the edge of the kitchen sink, she cries the tears that hold words unspeakable.

The tears, the pain swirling so fast that is deafening but invisible.

Her hands are open, God bless her, and her heart gives thanks because giving thanks is how we measure fullness when our hands seem empty. It helps us to look past empty air and be filled with His goodness.

This one, this beauty? She’s allowed those days of mourning to bring dancing into moments that could have been dark.

But the darkness, it still breathes on the back of her neck and it’s hard to ignore on days like these.

I can see her take a deep breath as the children run to and fro through the pews, bringing flowers or drawings or the little flowered bookmarks to the mothers who gush over handiwork-love brought as an offering.

I see her eyes watch thick with equal parts joy and ache.

Joy because she loves hard and loyal and without holding back, and ache because she has more to give but it doesn’t seem to have a place to grow.

Who is she? 

She is your friend, she is your sister, she is the girl next door, she is the woman who always brings the banana bread to the potluck, she is quiet one in the corner, she is the one singing anthems on the stage, she is the one planning your shower and your birthday bash, she is the one standing up with you on your wedding day, she is the one who writes the cards, sends the texts, babysits at a moments notice, loves your babies and all of the children frolicking like they are her own, who doesn’t freak out at the tantrums and messy house, who offers encouragement when you need it most.

She is the one who smiles that smile sometimes where you know there is bleeding but she doesn’t say a word because on the inside, she is grasping onto Jesus and His promises with white-knuckled tenacity. Because hope hangs on to that which we can’t see, and she’s used to the not seeing and the hanging on.

Who is she?

She is the one who has had month after month after year of an empty womb while friends around her stride with bulging expectant abdomens and chase giggling babies.

She is the one who has dreams and hopes of home sweet home written in that special way in the heart-journal, but it hasn’t turned out like she thought. Because does true love really exist after all, and Jesus, will there ever be a love story at all, complete with shoulder-leaning, lingered kisses, cradling sweet-smelling heads, days of summer with little feet running through grass, and serving Christmas morning love? Or will it just be…me? Alone?

She is the one who anticipates motherhood a few years down the road. She swallows a lump in her throat at the thought of small hands and feet and how in the world will she love like they need. But really, the love she feels growing inside scares her because it’s so big and wide and she knows she has so much to give, and she’s pouring it out in the waiting.

She is the one who had happily-ever-after mapped out, but it came crumbling around her when words like death, divorce, and I don’t love you anymore came knocking and wreaked havoc in her home before she could even blink.

She is the one whose baby flew the nest too soon, and the angels cradle the head she longs to kiss, even if for a moment. And when the mothers wear their badges proud on that one day a year, she screams on the inside because she has lost

She is one spending hours and hours teaching, doing lesson plans, creating fun games, laughing, comforting, encouraging, and learning with little ones she sees for eight hours a day.

She is the one who takes young women to lunch, invites them over for coffee, prays over them and pours into their souls because they need the encouragement like a parched plant needs rain.

She is the best auntie who spoils the nieces, the nephews, who loves and creates fun but also wonders if she will get to do these things with her own babies one day.

She is the one whose children are grown and raised, but still makes time for the young moms, the babies, the little ones and offers a helping hand or word of encouragement when the days grow desperate.

To you, the silent warrior who thinks you have yet to fill the shoes of motherhood because you have not birthed one of your own? Or maybe you just think your mothering days are over, and you don’t know where you’re really needed?

I mean no disrespect to your longing, because I have three babies sleeping in the room next me and I know that I do not know the nature or depth of the empty you feel. I pray God continues to fill you up to the brim in the way that only He can, and that as your desires align with His I know He will absolutely blow your mind with His goodness. So please, hear my heart when I say this:

Sweet friend?

You are a mother.

I don’t know if you will experience the joy and pain of childbirth, and I know not what God’s plans are for you. But – I do know this. You have loved deep, hard, full, and thick. You’ve given of yourself, and you’ve died a million deaths inside for those you love. You’ve offered a safe haven for the broken, you’ve protected the weak. You are burdened to warm the cold, to feed those who hunger, and you invite them into your home. You pick up those babies of mine and of the friends around you, and you push past the wistfulness to love without bounds. And my children are the better for it.

You see, I’m their mother. And I carry a weight of responsibility and heartstrings worn down that no one else will because of them, and God gave me that. I accept it, cherish it, and grab it full force because I can’t help it. I love them fierce and I’m mama bear. I get that, and I know you do, too.

But you? You fill a special place in their lives that I can’t. I’m not crazy enough to think that I have all the answers, the talents, or that I’m well-rounded. God gave me everything I need to mother by the power of His spirit, but also? God gave me you. Yes, you. You, in your wild loving heart dripping with gifts to be poured out and you offer them freely, and often, to me and to my children. To the children around you, to the moms, to the youth group, to the Sunday school class, the babies in the nursery, the children at school, the kid at the park, the mom in line at the store? The families – when you see a need, you fill it. You are there.

And that’s what moms, do, you know? We are there. 

So, contrary to your thoughts, you are not on the sidelines, dear friend. None of that awkward thing where you feel you can’t delve into the conversation or relate because you haven’t been there or because our seasons of life are dangling on opposite ends of the earth. It may not look the same from your view, but you ARE there. We feel it. No, just because you did not push through the pain and wake up during the night with screaming babies does not mean you are not right there in battle with us, and not even because you have to. You just do. You are in the trenches, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Your words bring light when the tunnel seems dark and endless, your arms are always open, and your hands help when I feel like I can’t go on.

You bring a whole new dimension of female beauty into my kids’ lives. Yes, I want them to learn from me. But I’m so grateful to have mothers-of-the-heart that my children can look to and lean on besides me. It is God’s grace weaved into my life, to bring you in, and my kids drink life from your words, from your perspective, from your example, and I’m blessed.  I’m not good with the whole nail-painting thing – but you are. I can’t always take them to McDonalds for a treat or to the park for a walk, but you step in and you do those things. I’m not the adventuresome type, but when my kids are with you, they see a side to our Creator that is wild and free. I love that. I love that God brings beautiful souls like you into my heart and home, and don’t think you aren’t making a special, unmatched, lasting impression that is not beyond-words appreciated. My kids are watching, learning, as they see you doing life alongside me, and it chokes me up to think how blessed they are to have you. Not just now, but as they grow.

You, friend, are a mother to someone, young or old. You may not even know it, the eyes who watch you, love you, lean on you, appreciate you.

You fill a special, heart-shaped, soft spot that no one else can fill.

Your time is not simply on the horizon, your time of glory is now. 

Doing what you do, filling in the gaps with grace, being you. You can’t help it.

You, women who mother when you think you’re not. Who give and give and give without getting. (That’s a big part of being a mom, by the way.)

You are mothering, right along with the rest of us.

And you deserve applause.

Because though you may not have felt the kicks of a small one inside of you, you have felt them when you held my child so that I could eat my dinner.

You may feel that your days of perky and energy and chasing babies are over, but you chase me down and build me up with your words of love and encouragement when the load seems heavy.

You may not have nursed a small mouth at your breast, but you feed children by the hundreds with your grace, your giving, your pouring out of the love that only a true mother’s heart can give.

Because motherhood is not just born from the womb - 

…it is woven and birthed inside the heart. 

So today, let me say this, humbly, from the bottom of my heart.

thank you.

and Happy Mother’s Day.

The other night I was having a conversation with a couple of my closest friends about waiting. We were talking about the Christian stand-by term “wait on the Lord” when we aren’t sure what to do, or what direction we are supposed to be taking. And, it’s a wise policy to have, seeing as it’s alllll over scripture (think Psalms, Proverbs). I’d say I’m pretty familiar with it, as it seems a lot of my life has included standing in an emotional, mental, or physical waiting line of sorts.

Before you continue reading this post, please don’t think I’m downplaying the waiting game. If you’re in that season, you hold fast, dear friend! God is working. Some of my sweetest times with Jesus and seasons of growth and refinement have been those when I’ve embraced the waiting. Sometimes waiting is what we’re called to, and God moves in our hearts so much during those moments. Also? I’ve learned that many times staying often requires even more faith than going, especially when it’s the less exciting option. I’m pretty sure that scenario has happened in my life a LOT, actually. And I can look back and say whoa, God, you totally knew what you were doing! (surprise)

But today – today, my brain is swirling with this:

What about when the waiting is over?

Or what if it’s over and the doors are swung open wide to the bus taking us to a new destination but we are parked on our waiting bench because we’re afraid of where we’re going? Or we’re afraid it might be the wrong place/time/bus?

Sometimes it’s really clear that we are to make a move – it becomes obvious just by events around us and we take steps because we are moved.

But what about the times when the end of the wait involves us making the decision to move because we discern or decide to take a leap of faith?

To me that is so intimidating. I like signs.  I prefer certainty. I love when God uses His Word, people, events, and circumstances to make things completely obvious. But sometimes, that’s just not the case. It’s pretty much my policy that if I am not hearing, then I need to keep my little behind parked right where it is and enjoy the breeze at the pit stop until I receive further instructions. And, for the most part, I still stand by that when someone asks me what to do when they haven’t gotten a clear direction from the Lord.

Much of our life can be associated with waiting. For prayers to be answered, results of a test, to hear back about a job or an offer on a house, waiting for a positive pregnancy test, enough funds before making a purchase.

A lot of waiting is outside of our control. God is sovereign, and He is ultimately the One who sets things into motion. Nothing happens outside of His radar or apart from His hand. I always have the mindset that when something doesn’t work out, He’s got something better. Or, if something seems to be taking an unusually long time to coalesce, it’s because God’s working in the interim, and rushing would ruin the wonder. So, I don’t worry too much.

But when is it okay to STOP waiting…and step out? When God gives us the “wait”, when is it finally okay to go? Or…what if I’ve become so comfortable in my waiting that I’ve failed to see that God’s holding out His hand to take a step?

See, here’s the thing. I’m not a patient person, and waiting has never been my forte.

But the longer I’m alive, I don’t mind it so much. In fact, sometimes I’d rather wait because I know things will turn out so much better if I just leave it alone and stop trying to make things happen on my own.

But – I’ve realized something. A lot of seasons of waiting has gotten me really comfy in that department. Nothing wrong with becoming content, in fact God loves and grows us through a contented heart according to the Apostle Paul…but what about when the content with waiting becomes a content of not stepping out? When does it become complacency?

OR. What if “waiting” can actually become spiritual cover for fear of the unknown? 

I’m not talking about those times when you know, that you know, that you KNOW that God has you at a standstill, whether you like it or not. I’m talking about those times when you could act, and you can even see a decision or opportunity laying before you, but you’d rather sit still because it’s safe.

(And not necessarily because God is asking you to.) 

We know that fear is not from God, and if we are secure in His love.

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” – I John 4:18

And while we have a lot of examples in the Bible of those who waited, we are also given so many who held onto faith and took steps even though they had no idea of the outcome – they were simply being obedient.

Noah, when he obeyed God and started building an ark when there were no weather reports and everyone thought he was crazy.

Abraham, when he left his homeland not knowing where in the world he’d end up.

Moses, leading God’s people into a desert for rescue without plans for food and water.

Gideon, going to battle against the biggest, baddest army of that day with only 300 men.

It seems that in each of these situations, the keys were this:

1) hearing/recognizing God’s voice

2) obeying by faith, not by logic

I’m sure all of these men had moments where they wondered if they’d heard right, if they were crazy, and had major bouts with fear and insecurity.

But they still took the steps. 

Today, I’m asking God for clarity. To hear His voice and know if the wait is still mine (and be okay with that), or if it’s time to take His hand and step out in faith (and to be okay with that, too). If I’m supposed to sit tight, I want it to be because He’s asking, and not because I’m paralyzed with fear.

Because on the other side of obedience in waiting is often a wild, seemingly impossible opportunity for obedience in moving.

Pretty sure it just comes down to obedience, period.

“But Samuel replied: “Does the LORD delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obeying the LORD? To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed is better than the fat of rams.” – 1 Samuel 15:22

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance. And he went out, not knowing where he was going.” – Hebrews 11:8

What shall it be, Lord?

Have you ever faced a decision, and you’re not sure whether it’s time to go or stay? How has God helped you through a season of waiting, and how did you know when the wait was over? I’d love to hear your stories.  

Early this morning, I was sitting on my front porch. The breeze was just warm enough to be pleasant, the birds were chirping, and the sounds of traffic hadn’t gotten rapid yet as it was still early. I had my laptop open to write, and times like that I’d really  love for the words to pour. I had time (very rare). The kids are asleep. Why not, God?

But sometimes they just don’t come. It’s frustrating.

See, I do like writing about random things. I love posting pictures of my babies on Instagram and talking about the funny things they do. I’ll tell you about my vacation, a new recipe, or my favorite ice cream. I might talk about something sweet my husband did, or something dumb I did to embarrass myself. Sometimes I try to be funny, and sometimes I talk about eating because I love food. I might tell you about how I could live at the beach, or how my sisters are my best friends. I like to talk about those things, because that’s my life.

But really? My favorite kind of writing is the stuff that just pours out of the overflow of my heart when God is moving and speaking in the moments of my everyday, and the realization of Him is so vast that I can’t help but get it out to others. I love that. And really? Without His divine revelation and His word, much of what I could conjure to write is just nothing.

Lately I’ve been seeking, actually begging God for more of Him. I don’t think that’s a bad thing to ask, in fact I think He loves that. I’ve been asking Him to speak, and I want to hear. I want Him to reveal the darkened places of my heart, to give me direction, to show me the facets of His heart. I ask Him things all throughout the day, from “how do I handle this situation with this child?” to “what should I do this weekend?” to “why can’t I shake this uneasy feeling about ____?”

There are days when my mind is churning so fast that I can’t stop it and I’m slewing questions around at God and everyone else so fast that I barely hear the answers when they come. (My husband knows when I’m in that mode…he gets a tumult of texts without me waiting for an answer.)

I’m a thinker. I like to know why. I love to learn. I get hungry for knowledge, and I can devour a book in a 24 hour period. I love the story untold, and then turning the story ’round on the pottery wheel of my mind until it becomes something beautiful that I can spill onto a page or tell a friend. My heart yearns to express the inexpressible.

Honestly? My pride would really like to be profound. I’d love to be a well-spoken, eloquent writer with words that bring people to tears and heart songs that display my inner thoughts in a way that my lips can’t utter. I don’t just want to have good ideas, I want to have the best ideas. I don’t want to write just to write, I want to write with purpose.

But, here’s the thing. I’m not always profound. In fact, it’s kind of rare. Life is much more simple than I make it out to be and I complicate it because somehow, messy though it is, it often makes me feel better to wade through it. Maybe it makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something? Working out my own salvation (yikes)? And much of the time the things I get rolling in my brain need to be left alone.

This morning I was sitting on the bench, asking God to speak. Wanting desperately to hear His voice…

Instead? This might sound crazy, but I got the craziest feeling that He was sitting right next to me. Yes, I know God is everywhere, sees everything, yada yada, but I mean, really, up close and personal, just hanging out with me. In my mind’s eye, He had His arm draped behind me on the back of the bench so that I could lay my head on His big shoulder. And He just sat with me. Watching the birds. Relaxing, not talking. It was the most peaceful I’ve felt in a while. I noticed so much many of the things around me that I hadn’t in my intense pursuit of revelation.

It was so sweet. I’ll be honest, though, it took me a minute. I wanted to talk. I wanted to get into some nitty gritty, obtain some profound revelation from the scriptures I’d just read, get direction some decisions, hash out heart matters, and hear some answers to some of the many questions bouncing around in my head.

But no, in that moment, I just need to enjoy His presence, not just seek His presence so that I could get answers. To be with Him, to let His strength take over the weakness of a mind that needs to know instead of a heart that needs to rest in His embrace. Rest. That is something I haven’t felt in a while, either, and I’m pretty sure that’s because that in my fiery pursuit of His will, I have neglected the quiet rest of His presence.

I read a blog post by internationally-known worship leader Kari Jobe the other day, here’s an excerpt:

“But beware you don’t slip into a mindset where you seek God’s presence because of the benefits you’re going to get from it. Will you experience blessings when you steward God’s manifest presence? Oh, yes … definitely. But don’t let those blessings ever become your focus or goal. I think we often lose sight that the greatest benefit of God’s presence is God Himself. We get to experience His presence, His peace, His life, His mercy, His grace, His goodness and so much more. We get to hear his voice when we’re in His presence and have life-transforming experiences. Yes, many amazing and wonderful things come to those who take the time to enter the Holy of Holies through worship, but always remember … His presence is the prize.” – Kari Jobe

I’d been asking Him to help me know Him better, but who wants to get to know a friend who just wants the benefits of the friendship without caring about the friend themselves? Who wants a friend can’t be quiet and can’t drop their own agendas just to…BE? I think of my sisters, and how many times when we hang out, we talk, yes, absolutely. But there are times when words just aren’t necessary, and we enjoy being together. Or, there are times for listening. And the beautiful harmony of all of those moments is what makes our relationship so special, so comfortable, so close. Not because I’m constantly wanting something, needing to know, even though the exchange of words and ideas makes up parts of our friendship, too.

And so I realize that I’m often guilty of pursuing the revelation more than the relationship.

And isn’t that why Jesus came in the first place? To restore the relationship with our Creator that was lost in the garden because of sin?

And isn’t that what tripped Adam and Eve up in the first place? Wanting to know more, instead of being satisfied with God’s presence and the love relationship He had with them?

Yes, we should talk to God, and yes, we should ask questions. He loves that. He wants to guide us, talk to us, love us. And what I’m NOT saying is that we shouldn’t beg God for revelation, because you and I need desperately to hear from Him, to bear His word in our hearts day by day, hour by hour.

But more than that?

He wants to be with us. 

That’s why He sent His Son – Immanuel – God with us.

Can you even wrap your mind around that? The very God of the universe, in all is magnificence and power, here, with us in our small humanity, up close, tangible. It takes my breath away. In the Old Testament, God’s presence in the tabernacle was so mighty and strong that once a year, only the priest was able to enter the holy of holies. No one else could, or they would have certain death.

But because of the cross, Immanuel – Jesus coming to earth and bridging the gap between a sinful, dying people and an everlasting Holy God, you and I have direct access His very presence. I think we forget how crazy impossible amazing that is.

And in His glorious presence? Everything else falls away, things that didn’t make sense begin to add up, and in the light of His face, our hearts are transformed to be more like Him. We are enveloped in His love in way that we could never think possible.

Everything we need is right there. 

   ”You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” – Psalm 16:11

Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you think too much, let the cares of the world press in, and you’re confused because you’re asking, you’re seeking, and you want desperately to hear.

He hears, friend. The revelation is on it’s way, we can even expect it as a result of the relationship. Trust that it will come. The words will soon pour out, and the story is still being written.

But for now, maybe the best thing you and I can do is sit on the bench and enjoy His presence. Learn His voice, hear His heart, know His love. It moves, it changes, it breathes very life into our bones by His amazing power and it’s by NOTHING you or I can discern, do, or understand.

If you’re seeking, too, remember…

His presence is the prize. 

“But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” – Matthew 6:33

Do you guys remember in this post where I reeeaaallly wanted a getaway with my hubby and even asked Jesus to make it happen?

Well, ask and you shall receive! God is so good like that. I don’t know why I get surprised about that so often.

Not even a day after that, my sister was over at my house and telling us about this crazy deal on nonstop flights to Orlando, Florida. She and some friends had been planning a trip to the beach, so she’d been researching flight prices and they snagged a great deal. These also happened to be from a small airport that is only 45 minutes from us (normally the closest one is a good 2 hour drive). At first it was just conversation, but the more we thought about it…why shouldn’t we go for a spontaneous getaway?! Hubby and I had been discussing for months the dire need to prioritize time together and for our marriage. This seemed like the perfect time. So, we booked it a little over 3 weeks before we would fly out. (Side note, I’m learning that spontaneity is often freeing.)

Long story short, we ended up booking a 4 day trip in St. Pete Beach, Florida, and paid only $220 (wha wha!) for roundtrip air for hubby and I (+ baby boy). We also got a great deal on a beachfront condo for the weekend. The girls were able to stay with grandparents (thank you!!), and we decided it would be much easier to take baby Ty with us because 1) he’s 3 months old…still so little! and also an easy keeper that would still give hubby and I lots of quality time 2) he’s breastfed, and I didn’t want to pump my entire time there OR expect someone to wake up during the night with him then watch 3 under 3 while tired during the day. I’m used to it, but that would be HARD for someone who isn’t.

We had such an amazing time. Seriously, SUCH an amazing time, though it was short. The Florida sunshine didn’t peek out as much as we would have liked, but honestly that didn’t take away from our trip at all. The beach was absolutely breathtaking and the quality time we were able to have was serious food for the soul. I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a good long conversation without interruption. We had coffee on our balcony each morning as we read and talked with the waves as our backdrop. We took naps, went for walks, ate yummy food, laughed…it was heavenly, I mean it. Marriage is hard work, but my husband is truly my best friend and I’m so grateful.

I also had the opportunity to meet up with a sweet blogging friend of mine, Michele-Lyn. Totally something God worked out, and I cherish every moment spent with her. But, I’m saving that little story for my next blog post.

Here are a few photos from our getaway. As much as I was so glad to get back and see my baby girls, I miss the beach!

The view standing on our condo balcony. So beautiful to wake up to this!

Quiet morning moments on the beach. There is something special about talking to Jesus while watching waves roll in. I really miss this!

My two handsome boys We were walking out to the beach near sunset…this might be one of my favorite photos ever!

My sweet little boy and I…he melts my heart! Those dimples will be the death of me. Also, he did so well with travel for being such a little guy.

I enjoy hubby-watching will sitting on the beach. It was a bit overcast and even a little rainy while we were there but still beautiful.

Gorgeous sunset. God, your creation takes my breath away!

Would you just look at that little face! I can’t get over it

I love him. We had such a great time. Feeling very blessed.

As much as love to read and blog, I rarely get the chance to sit down and read other people’s blogs on a regular basis. I also rarely share articles on social media unless I really, really enjoy or am challenged by them. But in the past few weeks, I’ve come across a several that fit into that category. Usually in the middle of the night while nursing my baby boy.

There are quite a few on this list, but I thought they were worth sharing! Some of them are a few weeks old because I’ve been meaning to share them on here for a while

So go grab that cup of coffee and enjoy!

Angie Smith (she is one of my favorite authors/speakers, and I saw her at Women of Faith last year) wrote this article about fully engaging with our children and not using them as “props” for our life as we display it on social media in our Pinterest-inundated society. It really convicted me and made me assess my own heart motives.

• You’re Not a Prop 

Beth Moore wrote two posts in the past month that I thought were completely stellar. The first one addressed the idea of comparison and how we use our individual gifts within the body of Christ. So encouraging for anyone who has wondered if they have a “story” or how they fit into Kingdom work. The second addressed a difficult topic – hatred and criticism within the body of Christ. If you’ve been even remotely tuned into the online world lately, you’ve seen the darts flying. It’s saddening, to say the least. I felt that Beth handled this with such love and grace, and it needed to be said.

• What Would You Look Like? 
• Sadness & Madness

If you or anyone you’re close to has struggled with depression or even suicidal thoughts, read this. Ann Voskamp (whom I also saw at Women of Faith this past fall) writes with stellar beauty and God’s eye-opening grace.

• What Christians Need to Know About Mental Health

I also read a really great article on Relevant Magazine by Shauna Niequist about the negative effect that social media can have on our lives with regard to authenticity and comparison. She writes words that many of us know to be true but never really say. I was challenged. I especially appreciated her words because I looooove Instagram, but I also want to be REAL. And? There is no replacement for community in our real life. This one is worth the read.

• Stop Instagramming Your Perfect Life

Lisa Jo always has a knack for bringing encouragement in a way that seems like a missing puzzle piece inside the heart. Especially for mamas, as she reminds us what a sacred and important calling motherhood is. This post really encouraged me because, honestly, some days are hard!

• When You’re Wondering if You Can Face Another Week of the Same Routine

These next two posts are by two of my sweet blogging friends, Kris and Michele-Lyn. They are both beautiful souls who encourage others, follow hard after Jesus, love their families, writing, and they are REAL. They both write beautifully from the heart, and while many of their posts often resonate and challenge me, these two posts really expressed how I’m feeling in this season of life, too, in so many ways. I thought it might be easier to share their lovely words than to try to fumble through it with my own.

• Here (And Why I’m Not)
• I’m Still Here…

I know Easter was a couple of weeks ago, but I’m getting sort of used to running a little behind on things. That’s how we roll, and it fits us well for the time being.

Well, sometimes, and then sometimes it’s not so pretty. Kinda like Easter morning before church. Things actually ran pretty darn smoothly considering I wanted all of us to semi-coordinate and try to get a photo in all of our matchy-matchiness. That means *hopefully* no one poops, pukes, rips something, gets a bloody injury, or spills anything down their outfits before manage to tumble out of the van and into the church doors.

We made it to church pretty much right when service was about to begin (this is nothing new, in fact, that I would consider that “early” for our record) and were unloading kids. For a brief moment I regretted wearing a dress above my knees because climbing and hoisting children out of a minivan doesn’t always lend itself to modesty. Oh well, too late to think about that. Plus, it had to at least kind of match everyone else, right?

Anyway.

Hubby was carrying Ty in his baby seat and our Bibles in the other hand, and I was hefting my purse and the diaper bag (which is basically like carrying two diaper bags) while unbuckling the girls. I began trying to corral them toward the church door while keeping an eye out for Ava Jo, who typically makes a break for it like a wild woman any time she is outdoors.

We got inside and there was a small crowd of people in the foyer, including greeters ready to hand us the church bulletins. I said hello but I was distracted because I began subconsciously glancing around. Something was off. Ty was still with Gav, and Addie Kate was standing near him getting ready to go to her class, but I didn’t see Ava anywhere. The glancing around turned into frantic head swinging as I tried to figure out where she’d ran off, and then my heart plummeted.

“Gav! Go get Ava! Go outside, she ran off, go get her!”

My voice might have been slightly high pitched and slightly loud and my eyes might have been bugging out of my head even more than my already-buggy eyes already do. Knowing how my spunky little tornado of a 2 year old is a practiced escape artist, within a matter of seconds terrible scenarios flashed through my head of her curly-headed self bounding out in front of a car while the late-comers were veering into the parking lot (I would know about this veering thing, as we are regular members of the latecomers club, despite my greatest efforts and the fact that I hate being late). My husband just stared at me like I was a nut. This irritated me. And it confused me, because he normally doesn’t do that when I’m freaking out about something kid-related. And then it irritated me some more. Did he not just hear me?? I felt panicked.

“HONEY! Go get Ava, she ran off into the parking lot!! HURRY, GO GET HER!!”

Now not just my husband, but everyone in the foyer was staring at me like I was a nut. Husband started…”Uh, babe… (that tone…it was the “ummm, you’re crazy and even though I hate that you are hollering at me right now, I feel more sorry for you in your craziness and the fact that you’re embarrassing yourself kind of tone) “BABE.” He pointed.

Oh, good gosh.

She was ON. MY. HIP.

*face palm*

Clearly, people, I am losing my mind.

I don’t even recollect picking her up. Maybe she tried to run and I decided it was better to play it safe and carry her? I don’t know.

I turned and looked at her and she just gave me the sweetest look, almost as if she knew I was having a serious heart attack over her and she enjoyed being a spectator.

At this point I almost died laughing, because it WAS funny and what else could I do, and everyone else who saw it laughed too, except my laugh was laced with “oh, man I’m an IDIOT!” slight embarrassment, and their laughter was glazed with, “oh SOMEONE get this girl a nap and a drink!” kind of looks.

In my defense, I hadn’t had a drop of coffee to my name at the moment that this occurred. My almost-3 month old is sleeping better than I could ever hope, so I can’t really blame it on that although I still feel exhausted.

Aside from that momentary lapse of brain activity, the rest of our Easter was fun, uneventful, and sweet times with our families. The kids loved hunting for eggs, and we loved watching them. I wish I had taken more pictures, but here are a few that make me smile when I look at them. I want to hold these babies close and never let them grow up!

All stories aside, we have much, much to be thankful for. I woke up early on Easter morning and read again the Matthew account of the last supper, Jesus’ arrest, crucifixion, burial, and glorious resurrection. What hope we have, what joy is ours!

 These are about as close as we got to a decent family photo. The girls were more interested in picking Nana’s daffodils and running around. I’m cracking up because I really wouldn’t have them any other way – this is a pretty good snapshot of our real life.

Also, meet my parent’s Australian shepherd, her name is Photo Bomber.

Can you even get over these sweet babies?!

Hope you all had a wonderful, blessed Easter holiday!

After my post yesterday about taking my story into my own hands, my friend Sara shared a quote with me from Christine Caine that I loved. (It was actually from Christine’s Facebook page.) 

A story is not a testimony. Power is not in sharing our story but having a testimony. We overcome by the word of our testimony – Rev 12:11

Good, eh? Especially since I have stories on the brain lately.

Here’s the full verse from Revelations:

“And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death.” – Revelations 12:11 NKJV

Talk about food for thought! I truly believe God is the ultimate Author who is penning a unique story for each of us. But really, it’s true. Any story we might have is not about the story as much as the testimony it gives of the Author’s work.

The story is just about us.

The testimony is about God’s work in and through us. Pointing to Him, always to Him.

By His grace, for His glory.

The word testimony means “to witness, to give proof before a judge”.

And isn’t that why we’re here, to be His ambassadors and witnesses of His grace to for the world to see? Isn’t that the point of the story, the testimony? 

And by that testimony, we are overcomers, according to Revelations 12.

I’m chewing on this today, this thing about stories and testimonies and about being one of these overcomers who quite obviously loved Jesus more than their very lives.

After all, who in the world doesn’t want to be an overcomer?? I know I do!

Sometimes trying to figure out my story, or my “testimony” in all it’s pieces has tripped me up and I’ve wondered how in the world I play into God’s Kingdom business in the grand scheme of things. Because, yeah, I want a good story, I’m human and I’m a romantic. But also? I love Jesus, and I have a burning desire to reach souls for Him, to be His vessel, to step beside Him in the work He’s called me to do. In my home, in my community, and yes, in the world.

It’s fuzzy sometimes. Stay or go? Start or quit? Keep going or move on? Simmer down or get fired up?

What is my calling/testimony/whatever anyway??

(Surely I’m not the only one who asks this and often feels like I can’t see straight because I’m looking so hard. Maybe looking too hard is my problem.)

And then, I read this article by Beth Moore:

What Would You Look Like?

I love how she boils it down – love Jesus. That’s it, heart, soul, mind and strength.

YES – help me with that, Lord, today, tomorrow, as soon as I get up from this chair, and forge my testimony from the love for you that surpasses the love for my own life.

The overcomer kind of love. The overcomer kind of story. The overcomer kind of testimony. 

So, that’s what’s rolling around in my heart today, friends…story turned testimony…love…overcoming by blood of the Lamb…what does it mean to be an overcomer by the word of our testimony?

I have a feeling the testimony comes when we stop trying so hard to have one.

When the love of Jesus is so all-consuming and burning within our souls that we can’t help but scream from the rooftops of His Great Name -

- what we find ourselves doing, being, there -

…there’s the story, the testimony. The testament of His love when the you and me drips away.

And the world sees Him.

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