Category Archives: Sacred Mundane

I like driving in the middle lane. In the slow lane you’re just asking for frustration, and in the fast lane you’re just asking for a fine. Of course it’s funny how our driving habits so reflect our personalities. I’m kind of a middle-lane girl, you could say. Law-abiding, cautious, but not about to go any sl
ower than I absolutely have to.

And I, like most of you I’d guess, am a middle-class American. Not too poor, not too rich, just the way I like it. My house is just slightly smaller than the average American size, we have just under the average number of kids (it’d be hard to have 2.6 kids), we make just slightly more than the average single-income. Any way you slice it–we’re the middle of the middle.  And I like it, it’s pretty safe here in the middle.

Safe. Safe from what? It’s easy to see the dangers of extreme lower and extreme upper class.  The poor have nothing and the rich have too much. But what are the dangers of life in the middle?

Apathy?

In Generous Justice, Tim Keller makes an interesting point about why more people are not actively involved in doing justice in our world. If we know the facts and have the means, why are we not acting?

Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matthew 5:3), meaning that God’s blessing and salvation come to those who “acknowledge spiritual bankruptcy.” When we are poor in spirit we understand that “we are deeply in debt before God  and have no ability to even begin to redeem yourself.” But what if we aren’t poor in spirit? We may not be so off as to believe that we have secured our own salvation, but what if we begin to believe, oh so subtly, that God should answer our  prayers and bless us because of all the good things we’ve done.

Could there be a dangerous place somewhere in the middle?

Keller says we could be called, “middle-class in spirit.” We believe, perhaps, that God has saved us by grace, but we still are fairly certain that we’re not the worst of the worst. Our need for grace? Mmm… somewhere in the middle. Keller says,

My experience as a pastor has been that those who are middle-class in spirit tend to be indifferent to the poor, but people who come to grasp the gospel of grace and become spiritually poor find their hearts gravitating toward the materially poor. To the degree that the gospel shapes your self-image, you will identify with those in need” (102).

My first response when I read these words is to think, “Ok, then how can I become poor in spirit?” To be materially poor we’d need to give stuff away, so how can we get spiritually poor?

[Smile as it dawns on me.]

We already are.

We don’t need to get rid of anything to become spiritually poor. We already are. All we need to do is see Truth. Embrace Christ. Understand the reality of our spiritual condition and the glorious gospel of grace. What moves us out of apathy?

The gospel.

How do we motivate people to serve the poor? The gospel. How do we compel people toward compassion? The gospel. How do we inspire people to give away their material possessions and store up treasure in heaven? The gospel.

Middle-class spirits are a breeding ground for apathy. For pride. For entitlement. For consumerism. For indulgence. I can keep pulling up these weeds, frustrated and struggling that they keep surfacing yet again, when really I just need new soil.

A spirit that’s poor.

Blessed are the poor in Spirit for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven.

Friends, we can give away every penny that we have and still not be poor in spirit.

Let’s not settle for the motions when God really wants the motive. A bankrupt heart overflowing in gratitude, overflowing in grace.

The glorious gospel on display: feeding mouths and hearts.

~

 {Revisiting this  today, with you. Thanks for reading.}

This last month my thoughts have been on compassion. How do we foster compassion? How do we grow in our ability to show compassion? Do we look at more pictures of starving children? Read more stats? Go on more mission trips?  Where does it begin? For me it began at a BBQ … 

~

We emerged from the food line, our plates piled high with BBQ fare, and scanned the crowd, deciding where to sit. There were hundreds and hundreds of people at the NE Portland Barn Bash Parkrose fundraiser and we didn’t know a soul. The band was blaring and cowboy boots abounded, and everyone had their Widmer and seemed to know each other.

We’d just prayed, before we arrived, that God would lead us to sit with just the right people. But since no one was wearing an “I want to hear about Jesus” t-shirt, I wasn’t sure where to sit. But I did see that amid the loud laughter and full tables, there was one table, on the edge, where only 3 people sat, eating, with their heads down, not saying a word. They were all Asian. We made a beeline for them.

They looked a little surprised (alarmed?) that we sat down. The two men nodded briefly and went back to eating. The woman smiled politely, then continued eating. After a few quiet bites, Jeff introduced us and asked their names. I couldn’t understand a single one between the thick accents and the deafening music blaring. I called David “Kevin” for the entire meal until he finally corrected me, and I thought Andrew was ‘Tony” and I have no idea what the woman’s name was. I tried, I really did. She was equally challenged by own name (“Like SORRY except with a K…” but we all did our best then they went back to eating silently.

Jeff persevered. 

To make a long story short, it was clear all of them were not born in America. They all three worked at a hospital and their 4th friend–also from the hospital–worked a 2nd job as a photographer for fundraising events. He was working there that night, and had given them tickets.

Though it took some time, they slowly warmed, and truly as our dinner time came to an end, their eyes danced with real smiles. The dear woman shared how she worked in hospice, and opened up about the challenges and gift of working with those who are dying. As they each shared tidbits of their life, I realized, All they have is each other. They didn’t have family or roots here. Their English was difficult to understand. Their social cues and mannerisms were different from what I’m accustomed to. No wonder they were sitting alone. No wonder that photographer, when given three free tickets to an event, gave them to his closest family: three co-workers.

Do I know what it’s like to feel alone all the time? To be surrounded by different. To know that when I open my mouth it will be difficult for anyone to understand me.  Or, worse, to always wonder, Will anyone even want to understand me?

Compassion simply means to suffer with. It means to enter into the feeling of another. To show empathy. Yes, it helps to look at pictures, read stories and hear statistics, but I’m learning that compassion really comes when we just begin making daily, ordinary choices, to sit down, look in the eyes, and really listen to those who are different from us. Those who are struggling. Suffering. Those who are alone. Those who are labeled “different” or “difficult.” When we forget about “trying to be compassionate” and we just put ourselves aside to listen a little longer and think a little harder about what it must be like to be that person.

Maybe growing in compassion is easier than we think. I tend to think that I grow in compassion by trying to make my circumstances like those who are suffering. And there’s something to be said for that, to be sure. Going without helps us identify with those who go without by necessity every day. But compassion also comes when we simply sit long enough to listen, really listen, and do our very best to understand.

Father, give us grace to grow in Compassion. Help us to listen long and seek to understand. Help us to forget about ourselves and our pursuit of compassion or virtue, but to suspend self long enough to care, feel, empathize. Teach us how to love. For Your name and Your glory, in Jesus’ name. Amen. 

{Thanks for reading.}

• Secret waterfall swim-spot along I-15 in Arizona. 112 degrees!
• Silly pictures at the wedding.
• Cool mornings.
• Sir Malcolm and the Missing Prince.
• Heidi’s constant request: “Can you read a ‘tory without a book?” (which means she wants us to tell a story.)
• Papa’s amazing tales of Princess Heidaroonie and Cowboy Dutcharoonie.
• The Columbia River.
• Freshly mowed grass.
• Eating salad straight from the garden.
• Kids in the wading pool.
• Laughter.
• Good friends.
• Struggles.
• Getting stronger.
• Choosing to trust.
• Resting in Him.
• Jesus Calling.
• My own bed.
• Psalm 28.
• That joy comes in the morning.
• Philippians.
• Pressing on to what is ahead.
• Raspberries.
• U-pick.
• Kids playing in the mud.
• Mud on the lightswitch, the sink faucet, the hand soap, the counter … evidence of their fun summer escapades.
• Summer dinners.
• Fresh fruit, veggies, I love this season!
• That He lifts us out of the pit, again and again and again and again … Great is His faithfulness! 

It’s always fascinating for me how each vacation becomes themed by whatever ideas were prevalent on the pages of the books I carried along. Past trips have been marked by The Same Kind of Different As Me, Half the Sky, and The Glass Castle.  I love that each book-themed trip becomes a sort of educational, retreat-like experience. It’s like God has a special life-curriculum in store for me each time, and the particular books are my assigned texts. 

This past trip was another example of this. My four reads on our roadtrip were Love Has a Face: Mascara, a Machete, and one woman’s Miraculous Journey with Jesus in Sudan;  The Missional Mom:Living with Purpose at Home and in the World;  One Million Arrows: Raising Your Children to Change the World;  and Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God. Wow. Talk about a themed trip! Michele Perry’s tales of the miraculous in Africa have me ready to pray for every person I meet. Helen Lee’s missional mom perspective has me singing, “Finally! Someone who speaks of motherhood in terms of mission, purpose, glory, and kingdom rather than just pitting “SAHMs” against “working moms.”  It’s such a beautiful read, I want all my friends (and all of you!) to read it. Julie Ferwerda’s passionate words on parenting had me dabbing my eyes and underlining like crazy as I dripped sweat in the 111-degree sunshine by the pool at our Las Vegas hotel. And then, on our 12-hour drive home, Francis Chan’s voice, smooth and clear, read his own impassioned plea with American Christians to embrace God’s Crazy Love and actually live the way Scripture tells us to. To give, share, lay down our lives. To let go, believe God, live by faith. All four books surrounded me and pressed down around me, molding and shaping my life. I’m so grateful that our 8 days were not only fun and relaxing, but spiritual life-changing as well. 

So, what’s my point? It’s this: We must become lifelong learners. Oh friends, if we do not frequently open our minds and hearts to hear, listen, heed, and be shaped and influenced by others around us, we become so narrow-minded, so stilted, so bound and set in our ways. It is so easy to just float through life. To go on vacation and do nothing and turn off our minds. And although rest is certainly spiritual, we never go on vacation spiritually. Whether we’re reading the newspaper or Francis Chan or a riveting piece of fiction, we must engage in such a way that we’re always learning, listening, growing.  Asking, “God, what are you speaking to me through this?”

One common theme throughout all 4 books: We are so prone to be set in our ways, stagnant and stuck. We put God in our box, sink down into our Christian sub-culture, and never question or challenge the way things are done. We are wise to allow others (often through godly books) to poke and prod us and challenge us, to hold up the mirror of God’s word and allow us to take a long look and ask, “Why?”

In my opinion, reading is the best, cheapest, easiest way to challenge and broaden your horizons. Tsh also suggests these ways to keep your mind sharp and keep learning:

• Read. 
• Read quality.  
• Turn off the TV.
• When you do watch TV, watch quality. (We love documentaries!)
• Surround yourself with other learners. (People who want to grow.)
• Be around people who are different from you.
• Keep up with the news. 
• Make a list. (Things you’d love to learn about or learn how to do.)
• Say “I don’t know” to your kids. (Then look up their questions and learn about it together! I’ve learned more about the Oregon Trail in one week than the whole rest of my life, just because of their questions.)
• Just do something. (Pick one topic, read one new article, search one new website, try one new home-made item. Just try something! The best way to learn is to try.)

Learning–including spiritual formation and growing in relationship with Jesus and others–is probably my favorite part of life. And summer is the perfect time to grow as a life-long learner. Try something new. Read a book. Try making things from scratch. Invite someone over you don’t know very well. Spend time with people who are different. Jeff and I were given free tickets this weekend to a huge “Barn Bash” wild west BBQ event in NE Portland. I am certain we will be oddballs, and I have no idea what to expect. But I know for sure we will be with those who are very different from us and I’m so excited to learn, grow, and meet new people.

So, friend: How can you grow today? What can you read? Who can you meet? Where can you go? I pray this weekend is a blessed opportunity to grow, stretch, engage, and flourish in this life-long learning journey. Have a great one, and thanks for reading.

Ahhh… yes! It is 8:23pm Wednesday night and I just now slid into my bed, my own bed, and leaned back into the familiar pillow, the familiar scent, the soft feel of home.

Home. There’s no place like it.

On the 12+ hour drive from Salt Lake City, Utah to Portland, Oregon, there is one spot that always makes me almost giddy with excitement:

The first glimpse of the Columbia River. It comes as Highway 84 winds around a curve and down over the top of a hill, and there it is: glistening, wide, always larger than I remember. Even though there are still 4-5 hours until we pull into our driveway, it is always the Columbia River that brings a smile to my face and makes me feel I’m finally home.

As I read Pioneer stories, they had the same feeling. Young Laura tells of the Blue Mountain pass, the grueling last leg of the journey, and the crazy-excitement they felt when they finally reached the Columbia river. Ahh… yes! 

Although the pioneers were “home,” their real work began. They didn’t arrive to already built homes or established farms. They arrived to … bare land. They had to hurry to build homes before winter, hurry to clear land and begin farming. Hurry to gather enough supplies to carry them through the cold months ahead.  But even though there was work to do, they had reached their final destination. They were home.

There is no greater feeling.

Coming home last night felt like that for me. Sure, there is a pile of laundry, and the car is full of crumbs and french fries fallen between the seats. The fridge is empty and the dishwasher full. But … we are home. There is just no greater feeling, in my opinion, than coming home to the place I was meant to be. With my littles and my man, all under one roof, snuggled down in our beds. Home.

The long journey makes home just that much sweeter. 

But even though home is my favorite place in the world, it isn’t without its struggles. The kids were extra tired and so was I, and I snapped at Heidi when she wanted to play longer in the bath. I gave Jeff a “look” when he let them read books longer than I wanted. One of my potted plants had died. When the kids needed a snack I stared at the empty refrigerator and told them to go to sleep.

Even in the midst of blissful homecoming moments we still have our moments.

But do you know we have such a greater Home waiting for us? There are times I catch glimpses of what it will be like. When I walk through my home and can’t help but smile and know that I was created to love these kids, this man, to make this home and do this life. That’s home. When I slide into this bed and just bury my face into my familiar pillow and inhale this life. That’s home. But I am still fallen and so these glorious glimpses of home are still tainted by my sin.

But someday, oh friends, it will be so glorious when we go home! We will not be tainted by sin, by fatigue. We’ll never lose our temper or give our husband that look. We’ll never feel hungry or tired. We’ll never be behind in our chores or discouraged by all that needs to be done. It will be here sooner than we realize.

Heaven is closer than we think.

On our drive home yesterday, we (my parents with us too)  listened to the entire book of Crazy Love by Francis Chan on audio book and had a little revival right there in the car. His chapter, “You might not make it to the end of this chapter” reinforces this idea. We have no idea how long we have until we arrive at Home. And it will be more glorious than any Oregon territory. It was be a fullness of joy we cannot even imagine. We are wise to live every single day in light of eternity.

But are we living in an age when Christians, for the most part, do not often think of their true Home. CS Lewis said it like this:

“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next… It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. Aim at Heaven and you will get earth ‘thrown in’: aim at earth and you will get neither (p. 134).” Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis

How often do we think about our true Home? How often do we prepare for it? Live for it? Do we really live in such a way that testifies to the fact that this world is not our home? Do we really believe that in just about 1 second all that we have will be gone, except for those dear souls who know and love Jesus as we do?

As we finished our final–long–leg of our 8-day roadtrip journey, I must admit, my mind was fixed on home. 

Where is our mind fixed? Could it be that we’d be the most effective at doing good in this world if our focus was fixed on the next? 

As we finish these Lessons from the Trail, that is my final takeaway. To live with the end in mind. To look to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith. To know that our momentary troubles are working for us an eternal weight of glory. To quit fretting and fiddling with momentary concerns when forever looms and this world so desperately needs His love.

It’s a long journey, and a grueling one at that, but the end is so glorious. Amen? It’s been a joy to travel with you, and thanks so much for sticking with me along this trip. I’m so grateful for traveling partners like you.  Thanks.

It was Aunt Jeannette who had to leave her harmonium behind. (Yes, I had to google harmonium to see what it was.) They had come to the Blue Mountain range, their final mountain pass before reaching Oregon territory. Many had already been forced to abandon their wagons, as wheels and axles had broken. Trunks had already abandoned, extra supplies tossed aside. Many brave pioneers had already lost their lives.

But in this final stretch, in order to cross the mountain range, all had to lighten their loads. 

I can only imagine there was sorrow mixed with excitement. On the one hand, they were near their final destination. On the other hand, they had to leave behind almost all their earthly possessions in order to climb the final mountain pass and reach their as yet unseen Home. It was must have been scary: Is this enough food to last? Will we be able to replace these items when we arrive? How did they know what to take and what to leave behind? They couldn’t have known for sure, but they knew one thing: They had to significantly lighten their loads in order to survive.

Only what was absolutely necessary for the journey was to be kept. 

Friends, I have been praying much this trip and asking God to speak to us, not just generic feel-good lessons, but messages from Him. What does He want us to know? I believe this is one that He wants us to know:

We are in the final days of our journey.

No, I’m not some end-times alarmist here to tell you the world is ending tomorrow. But we are living in the last days, that is for sure, and even as Jesus walked this earth He exhorted us again and again to live as in the last days. He taught us that His return was imminent. He taught us to keep our candles lit, to continue watching and waiting and remember, We have not yet arrived.

To the man who built bigger barns, to hold more and more of this stuff, God said, “You fool!” While the man gathered up more and more stuff, he was completely unaware that his end was just around the corner.

So what am I saying? Am I saying we can’t have roomy houses, take vacations, or have two cars? No, not at all. But I do believe there is a message for us: Lighten our Loads.

I have seen beautiful examples of this. My brother’s family and another family moving in together, permanently, to live in community and share resources, freeing up more to give. That’s lightening their load. A dear young couple I know who is selling their too-much home and getting freed from the weight of debt in order to live simply and generously. That’s lightening their load. Dear friends of ours who left a grueling career lifestyle in order to change vocations and spend more time with family and serving others. That’s lightening their load.

Lightening our load is simply tossing aside what isn’t helping us along the life of faith. Any extra weight. Hebrews 12:1 says it like this:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.

This morning at 6am we embarked on the final leg of our Oregon Trail journey: Utah to Portland. Our large bag of snacks, once full, is not nearly empty. Only a few water bottles remain. We are near the glorious end of our adventure.

We just don’t need much anymore. 

What, dear friends, might be slowing you down? What might be an added weight? A sin that trips us up or even a good thing that’s just unnecessary. Only the Holy Spirit can speak individually to our hearts and pinpoint what He wants us to lay aside for our final leg of the journey. Though it be scary, it is also exciting … for it enables us to travel this final stretch unencumbered.

{I can almost hear the ocean. Can you? What might God want you to lay side today? Praying for grace for you as we travel our final  800 miles. Thanks for journeying with us. We’ll finish tomorrow. Thanks for reading.}

The thought did cross my mind:

“I wonder what women would do if they saw their recent conference speaker bustin’ a move on the dance floor to Young MC and Will Smith?”

Then I had to smile as I thought of the answer:

“I hope they’d dance with me!”

Yes, last weekend we–Jeff and I and Dutch and Heidi–hit the dance floor. We had the joy of attending the wedding of my dear cousin, Scott. I can still remember 29 years ago, when little Scott arrived on an airplane from Calcutta, India. My eyes were wide: He was so tiny and his skin was so dark! As we grew up together I later explained to him that I was vanilla ice cream and he was chocolate. I’m sure he appreciated my explanation. 🙂

Well baby Scott grew up and this weekend he married beautiful Renee in their hometown of Las Vegas, Nevada. So yes, we took a trip to “sin city” and were so grateful to bask in God’s presence and enjoy His (HOT) creation there in the desert. We played and swam and ate and … danced. We toasted and celebrated and laughed ourselves silly.

We celebrated, and oh it was so good.

One of the parts of the Oregon Trail that has struck me from all our readings, was the account of one child telling of their day-to-day life on the trail. She told of how each night the would cook dinner over the fire, and then someone would bring out a banjo, or some other instrument, and begin to play. And of course someone would start dancing, and then the clapping and singing would begin, and they would laugh and dance and sing and clap by the firelight–not too late since they had to rise early in the morning–to enjoy a little celebration along the hard and rugged road to Oregon territory. Their days were so hard, so many lost their lives, and they all faced such tremendous difficulties along the way. It was critical that they took time to celebrate each day of life as they persevered on their journey.

Oh we must remember to celebrate as we traverse this life of faith.

I need this lesson, often. I am such a do-er. I so terribly geared toward efficiency.  Even yesterday, we had a 6-7 hour drive to Utah. My natural plan would be to go straight there–no stops. But my brother had discovered this crazy little waterfall and natural warm springs river, hidden away in the Arizona desert. It was a short but steep hike down to it, and it was 112 degrees outside.

We did it. All four Littles traversed the rocky hillside and we splashed around in that amazing hidden waterfall to our hearts content. It was thrilling, refreshing, and I felt so exhilerated when we came back to the car I felt energized for the remaining 4 hours of the trip. Later, Dutch said that the waterfall swim was the highlight of the whole weekend for him.

We must take time along the journey to stop, jump in the water, swim under the waterfall, dance our hearts out, clap, laugh, celebrate.

Could it be that Sacred Celebrations are really part of the journey? Part of what refreshes us, rejuvenates us, gives us fresh breath and joy for the journey? I will never for as long as I live forget the scene of my dear cousin Scott—the groom–dancing with Heidi and my niece Jennika. I will never forget the joy of our whole family out jumping up and down to “Shout!” and waving our hands above our heads, “Whoaaa–uuhhh-ohhh!” I will never forget how they laughed and chased the zig-zagging lights and fell into their beds exhausted and falling asleep with smiles on their faces.

Do we take time for Sacred Celebrations? We know from Scripture that God prescribed celebrations for the Israelites. Times of feasting, celebrating, laughing, resting.

Why do we think that celebration is less holy than solemnity? Surely there is a time for both.

So that is my lesson for today. I am grateful beyond words that along this long and sometimes grueling life of faith, that we are given the gift of Sacred Celebrations.

That we as pioneers can pull out a banjo, start clapping, and celebrate another day of life.

If we have been given life and breath, we have reason to rejoice.

Perhaps, just for a moment tonight, you might pull your wagon along the side of the road, and after dinner put on some music and celebrate, just a little. Laugh, smile, tickle your kids. Thank God for His generosity in giving you another day of life.

Enjoy a Sacred Celebration along the way.

{How do you celebrate life? Celebrating with you … Thanks for reading!}

We were about 3 hours into our road trip, sailing along I-5 going 70mph, when Heidi suddenly screamed in distress, a one word warning we knew we must heed:

“POOPY!!”

Yes, we’re working on her communication methods, but the girl has a highly functional digestive system, and when she has to go she has to go. Often.

“Ok, we’ll stop at the next rest stop, babygirl. You can hold it until then.” Of course her face registered panic and she sat kicking her legs, no doubt fighting her body’s urges with all the self-control her 3-year-old self could muster.  I’m happy to report we made it in time.

I thought the first day’s trip would take us almost 10 hours.

That’s what Google Maps had said. 

But I hadn’t registered one critical road trip component: Stops. Frequent stops. Road trips with small children mean frequent stops. Although I must confess we only made 4 stops altogether and 2 of them were initiated by Jeff and me. So the fact that our trip took 11.5 hours instead of 10 was certainly not their fault, but it reminded me of an important principle along the pioneer path. One African Proverbs states it like this:

If you want to go fast, go alone.

If you want to go far, go together.

Of course Jeff and I could have taken this trip quicker if we were alone. But I would never trade in a thousand years that sweet opportunity to travel with our children. To learn from them and with them, to hear their endless questions and sweet curiosity, to take a million mental pictures as I glanced into the backseat and see them snacking, talking, reading, watching. I’d never trade the priceless family time we gained from simply spending 11.5 hours in a small space, together.

There is nothing so precious as traveling this life of faith together. 

Today, in fact, we are really traveling together. Today we are driving with my parents, my brother, and his wife and two children, from Las Vegas to Salt Lake City. I’m sure with 10 people’s digestive needs–instead of only 4–we’ll have even more special stops along the way. 🙂 But again, I’ll happily trade speed for the joy of traveling together.

This reminds me again of the Pioneers. Along the Oregon Trail, they had to travel a snail’s pace. Or literally, a child’s pace. We often think of them all riding in wagons, but the wagons–for the most part–only held the very sick or very young.

All who could walk, did. 

And so their pace was that of the slowest walker. Have you ever walked with a child? It’s slow. And at this slow pace they went, more than 2,000 miles, because they knew that it was worth it to travel together.

I’ve been reminded of this recently in my own life. As we’re making some hard choices to follow God and live out this life of faith, I’m being continually reminded how necessary it is to surround ourselves with like-minded saints who are going the same direction.  When we think we might be crazy, we need someone who is walking alongside us (even if perhaps they are crazy too!). When we’re discouraged about how long the journey is, we need someone else’s perspective who is traveling right there as well. When we’re sick, tired, weary, sad. Whatever it is we’re experiencing, we need the strength in numbers, the faithful saints who walk beside and lend a hand–or a wagon–until our strength has returned.

Are you surrounding yourself with like-minded saints? Sisters and brothers who are truly going the same direction? I do not merely mean “Christians” because there are plenty of Christians who are not living pioneer lives of seeking God’s glory, on mission with Him, living His upside-down Kingdom here on earth.  Are you surrounded by people who make you want to love Jesus more? Who inspire courage in you? Who love you and pray for you?

Do whatever it takes to surround yourself with such people. Ask God for them. Look for them. Watch for them. Pursue them. Get right alongside them and seek to do life with them. Travel Together. It’s the only way we’ll make it all the way there. 

Even if it means inconvenience, we must stay together. Even if it means we can’t go as fast as we want, if it means we must adjust our schedules, our preferences, our comforts. Even if it means pulling over so a 3-year-old girl can go poopy.

More than once. 

We must travel together, amen? Amen. 

{Do you have “travel companions”?  How do they encourage you along the way? Thank you so much to those of you who are true traveling companions to me. Bless you today, and thanks for reading!}

• Swimming Floating with my girl. (Do you think we have enough flotation devices?!)
• Sun. Sun. Sun.
• S’mores.
• BBQs.
• Naps.
• Unplugged.
• Learning to listen.
• Crystal blue waters.
• Sidewalk chalk. 
• Priceless works of art. 
• Raspberry lemonade.
• Wearing only bathing suits for two days straight.
• Kids so tired they fall asleep quickly.
• Fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries for breakfast.
• Good sleep.
• Love Has a Face.
• The Missional Mom. (Must read!)
• Long talks with my man. Oh so grateful to be married to a man after God’s heart!
• Thanking God for faithful friends in our life.
• Ideas, dreams, vision.
• Praying for everything.
• Emily praying my migraine away.
• Big salads.
• Roasting marshmallows.
• Not wanting to run but doing it anyway.
• Cool nights.
• Learning to see.
• Safe travels.
• Full tires.
• Air-conditioning.
• In-n-out burger.
• Early mornings with Him. 
• Kids curled up in the shade with books.
• Watermelon.
• Reminders of how big He is.
• Like-minded saints.
• Understanding. 
• Seeing–just a bit–with His eyes.

A blessed weekend to you! With love from Las Vegas, thanks for reading,

K

Technically this bite is called “Regularly turn off your TV,” but I adapted it a bit since TV is just one small way we’re plugged in to the outside world.

That has been one of the joys of this trip. Even though 11.5 hours in the car isn’t necessarily bliss, it was bliss to have that much uninterrupted time as a family.  It was a joy to have hours to talk to my man, to simply gaze out the window and watch the rows of pistachio trees slip by and watch the thousands of cows lazily grazing and  lift silent prayers to God, to dream and let our thoughts run and drift. We listened to an audio book (Sir Malcom and the Missing Prince) that brought tears to my eyes and taught our whole family lessons on character, struggle, suffering, and humility.

And yesterday we had the joy of spending all day unplugged (except when I wrote this post after the kids were in bed!), playing and swimming and reading and just being. As I type this Jeff is sitting next to me reading a biography of John Stott. Today I finished Love Has a Face by Michele Perry, a remarkable story of a one-legged woman barely older than I, who has devoted her life to loving 80 orphans in war-torn Sudan. Then I spent the afternoon napping with Heidi. It is remarkable to me how much it helps to have a simple 24-hour period where I can detox from the constant onslaught of news and social media.

For me, unplugging enables me to engage more fully in the 3-dimensional world in which I live. It helps me slow down and inhale my children’s breath, lean into my husband’s embrace and stay there a little longer. It helps me stop and look out the window … for a long time. It just helps me to stop, look, and listen go the real world and see His presence there.

So, want some ideas on what to do on your unplugged day? Tsh has a great post with idea on living slowly here. 

Is there a day this weekend where you can unplug? If so, what will you choose to do in order to recharge and be refreshed? A book? A long walk? A picnic with your family? Whatever you do, engage in the real world and look, listen, taste, touch, smell. Breathe deep and enjoy! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to unplug as well. Thanks so much for reading! Happy weekend.