When you feel like you live on a treadmill…
Exhausted, I stare down into the sink. It’s clogged. Has been for several weeks. When it does slowly drain it leaves a dark grimy film, and no matter how many times I scour it, the grime returns each time it’s clogged.
(Which is daily.)
I stare at the water; it isn’t going anywhere. I look up into the mirror, my face red from exertion, hair soaked with sweat. I just got off the treadmill.
The absurdity of it strikes me: I’m exhausted from running nowhere.
In so many ways.
… {Read the rest here with the dear sisters at (in)courage; thank you.}
Small.
I wanted Thomas Nelson so badly.
I know: I’m sure I’m breaking all the rules of professionalism to actually write about the process of seeking publication. Oh well. I have never excelled at professionalism, but perhaps a bit of my journey can connect with a bit of yours.
Like I said: I wanted them. Why? Well … honest answer?
Because I’m small and they are big.
Yup. They’re big. Real big. The biggest. And I’m small. Real small. The smallest. So what better way to feel big than to climb up into the biggest that there is?
One small problem: my smallness.
In so many words that’s what they said: That they love my idea and project, but my “following” is not what they’d like it to be yet.
In other words: I’m small.
(I could have told them that!)
So naturally I was bummed, not so much because of them, but just realizing that this book may end up with some no-name publisher with really terrible cover art drawn by hand and all of 13 people will buy it, all of whom are family members, and I will have spent all this time and energy on … What?
*Sigh*
Just. So. Small.
See, please hear my heart. I don’t want to be famous. Probably none of us reading this blog want to be, I just want to do something worthwhile, I want to invest in something that’s worth the time, the effort. You do too, right?
And so sometimes it’s just discouraging how small we really are. When you try to make a difference, when you join a cause or pursue a dream, sometimes your own smallness can just be … overwhelming.
But minutes after I heard back from Thomas Nelson, a good friend emailed these words:
“Saul kept on trying to put his armor on me but it did not work. Like David I cast it off and am just fine with the small in me too. and….mmmmm…Look who slew the giant…..”
Absolutely.
Of course, why hadn’t I seen it? Ironically, I was studying 1 Samuel 17 at that exact moment for an upcoming conference. Hadn’t even thought about how small David was.
Now please, I’m not trying to make myself out to be some heroic giant-slayer, but aren’t we all called to slay giants in this life? Aren’t we all called to something that looms so large in our vision? And so we try to put on Big Girl clothes, we buy a pair of giant shoes because we think that’s what we need to fill.
But we don’t have to fill any shoes other than our own. Even if they’re small.
See we might think we need something “big” to make up for our smallness.
And we’re right. We do.
We just haven’t thought big enough. We need something WAY bigger.
Saul’s armor was too big for David so he cast it off and went after the giant with nothing but himself…. and God.
That’s big. Sometimes, perhaps, He loves to use small people so He gets lots of glory?
John Piper said this,
“There are saving works that God will only do through small churches and ordinary people, not through large churches and more sophisticated people.
The Lord said to Gideon, “The people with you are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hand, lest Israel boast over me, saying, ‘My own hand has saved me.’” (Judges 7:2)
Beware of missing your appointed fruit by envying bigger trees.”
Today I’m going to settle down into my smallness and savor His bigness. I don’t know what will happen, but we have no choice but to take ourselves and our God and keep moving forward to face whatever giant He’s put in our path.
Even if my fruit is a blueberry–and not a watermelon–I’ll choose to bear it well … and rest in being small.
{Thank you for letting me grow alongside you…and thanks for reading.}
#36 Start a Garden {52 bites}
May is here! That means … time to plant! We’re doing our 52-bites today so you can prepare to garden this weekend. Plus, we’re joining the girls over at Frugal Living NW… Enjoy!
We’re currently on our 5th garden. No, not our 5th year having a garden, our 5th different garden. Which makes us not experts, but fools, because we keep starting over at each new place we live. I would not recommend this. But I would recommend starting some sort of garden, depending upon the space and time you have available.
Where to start? First, learn from our mistakes: ... {Read the rest here; thanks!}
Because what does it matter if the inside isn't pretty?
So glad to have Caila with us again today. Her words are a treasure! Enjoy…
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I don’t know why, but Sunday mornings are always difficult for our family. Getting the five of us up, fed, clean, dressed and out the door requires creativity and management skills beyond anything I was ever taught in college. Throw in all the paraphernalia that comes along with babies—diapers, wipes, bottles, formula, baby sling, blankets, etc.—and we look like a three ring circus.
Most Sundays we are a little late to church. Every Sunday I’m a lot frustrated.
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Around seven, the alarm goes off (he’s a six-month-old roly-poly blonde) and I roll out of bed. Another Sunday and today it’s going to be different. Today I’ll shower first so I can get all the kids ready after they eat. We’ll get to church early because it’s the Spring Picnic and there will be a lot of guests to meet. And I can’t forget sunscreen…and hats…and chairs…and…
I’m tired already. Jump in the shower and pull on the new clothes I recently stitched by hand. They feel good on because they actually fit, but I look closer and frown at my stomach. After three babies things just aren’t the same. I throw on a tight under-tank to hide the lines and call it good.
I pull a bag out from under the sink, thinking my new makeup will help. Ten minutes later I realize it’s too much and try to wipe some off. Try again. I turn the drier on my hair but my roots are showing, and dang it, why does it take so much work to be beautiful?
Now I’m in a bad mood. And why aren’t the kids eating breakfast? I start firing off commands. Why aren’t your clothes on? Didn’t I tell you three times to find your shoes? No, you can’t take your blankie to church.
Brian’s shooting me looks and I can feel the frown on my face, the creases on my forehead. Try to tell myself,stop. Be kind. You’re being ridiculous.
Later in the car, with the air conditioning pointed full-blast on my flushed face, I close my eyes. Hear my words again in my head. So much work to be beautiful, and yet what does it matter if the inside is ugly?
There it is: the heart of the matter. All that time sewing, all the money spent on new makeup, all the hours spent exercising, what does it matter if the inside isn’t pretty?
So I turn and apologize, squeeze Brian’s hand. Smile. Tell them all they are the most wonderful people in the world.
My family’s nice enough to compliment my new skirt or my hair, but what they really need from me is my patience and my love. I don’t need new makeup to be a good mom, or nice hair to be a good wife. I don’t even need to lose weight to have a wonderful life! Obviously I don’t want to be hideous, but truly, I can be a better wife just being confident in who God made me to be.
I think it’s time to exchange my “body-image” for a godly image of myself. Who does God want me to be? How can I bless those he’s given me to care for and love?
The great thing is that this exchange can happen as I kneel in the morning to thank God for the day, or from my shower in the morning, or while I push the kids in the stroller. It doesn’t cost a lot of money, doesn’t require surgery and won’t run out or go bad in five to ten years.
Now that’s a realistic option for this busy momma.
I want the kind of beauty that will last a lifetime, an eternity. The kind of beauty that will shade my children as they grow and give my husband the courage to face what this world might bring.
It has nothing to do with my face, and everything to do with my heart.
Thank you for coming along on this journey with me. You are all, truly, beautiful women. I hope you find the confidence to embrace it and show it today!
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Caila Murphy is a mother to three, married to the love of her life, who loves to sew and write. She blends these two passions together at Caila-Made, where she shares tutorials and chronicles the ins and outs of this beautiful, crazy life.
Week's end with thanks
Full week, sick, feeling better now, enjoying our day of rest together and looking forward to a real date, out with my man tonight. He’s my gift, here’s why:
- He makes us breakfast every morning.
- He stares at me and says I’m beautiful even when I first wake up and am NOT.
- He takes the kids for adventures outside so I can have quiet to write.
- He’s happy to eat soggy zucchini fritters (experiment: never again.) and popcorn and raspberries for dinner.
- He’s willing to change.
- He’s really weird…just like me.
- He’s willing to live a different sort of life.
- He doesn’t care about clothes and style and fashions and fads. He just is who he is.
- My steady man.
Q4U this weekend: Wives, how can you show your man respect this weekend? Husbands, how can you show your wives love this weekend?
That’s all for now … thanks for reading.
#22 & #35 De-clutter your closet & kids' toys {52 bites}
We’re doubling up this week since we took Good Friday off. These two go together, and since we’re talking de-clutter over at FrugalLiving, will you head over there with me and join the conversation?
When my husband and I were finishing seminary, we moved in with my parents to save money. Also to save money, we packed up all our belongings and stored them in their barn, instead of renting a storage unit. We weren’t sure how long our stay would be, but it turned out that most of our items were stored there for 27 months while we house-hopped, moving four times with our two kids before we settled into a home of our own.
Sure, there were times it was frustrating to know we owned an item and weren’t able to use it, (Merry Christmas! Oops, the tree stand is packed.) but for the most part it was eye-opening to realize by moving our stuff out of proximity we really didn’t miss it. ... (Find the rest over at FrugalLivingNW. Thanks for reading…}
What about good works?
They asked us to remember the poor, the very thing we were eager to do.
Galatians 2:10
“You mean I don’t have to do anything?”
This is the big question that arises when we start talking about the gospel being FREE and carrying no obligation, that we don’t have to DO anything to deserve Christ’s love. You mean we just believe Christ and that’s it? What about doing good stuff? What about giving to the poor and doing good works?
Here’s the deal: The true gospel motivates us to good works.
Good words are not a requirement of the gospel they are the fruit of the gospel. The are the fruit of grace, the fruit of a free gift.
Have you ever received a free gift and you couldn’t help but want to pay it forward?
Right before Christmas I had the idea of buying the Jesus Storybook Bible for a few friends. We have been so blessed by that Bible and I thought it’d be fun to bless some young families. But when I added the Bibles to my cart the cost really added up. Hmm, I thought. Maybe not. I left the Bibles in the cart but never completed the transaction. Christmas came. We had a great day and that night tucked the kids into bed. Then Jeff reminded met hat someone had given us a family Christmas card we hadn’t opened yet. I had tucked it in my purse and forgotten about it. So I pulled out the card and tore the envelope to see a Christmas picture of our friends. But instead I found a hand-colored picture of a beach and words that about gave me a heart-attack: “One free week in Hawaii.”
After jumping around the house like a crazy woman, you better believe the first thing I did was hop back on the computer and order those Bibles! It didn’t matter that they arrived after Christmas, of course I could be a teeny tiny bit generous after how someone else had been SO generous to us!
Do you see the connection? I wasn’t ordering the Bibles out of guilt or trying to “pay back” the people who gave us the trip – they didn’t even know about it. Besides, our tiny gift of a few Bibles was truly nothing compared to the riches we had received. It wasn’t about comparing what we gave with what we got. It was just about recognizing how much we have received, and being genuinely thrilled at giving forward a teeny tiny bit.
ANY of our giving to the poor, serving, loving, sacrificing is nothing compared to the amazing riches we have received in Christ. But if we truly understand the greatness of the gospel we will be genuinely glad to give. That’s a hilarious giver.
But, consider this: We have to have some inkling of how great the gift is. If I had never heard of this strange place called “Hawaii” I might not be that excited. I might not be inspired to give at all. I might not even want to accept the gift and go because I didn’t know if the destination was good or not. But Oh! I knew the glory of the island! I even knew the beauty of this particular place. Oh I knew what an amazing gift this was.
So too we must, as much as is humanly possible, understand how great is the love of God demonstrated in Christ Jesus. We must ask God to show us the length and depth and width and height, the love of God that surpasses knowledge, so that we can continually be amazed at His riches and feel genuinely thrilled at giving to others.
That’s where the good works come from.
So too, when we “get” the gospel we will “get” a heart for the poor. HEART. Not “obligation” to the poor. Not “guilty feelings about the poor.” A HEART for the poor. A LOVE for the poor.
1 John 3:17 says, “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?
Throughout the entirety of Scripture we see that God has a special love and concern for the poor, the widow, the downtrodden, the broken (James 2:15-16. Ex. 23:10-11, Lev. 19:10, Deut. 15:7-11, Jer. 22:16, Amos 2:6-7, Luke 6:36, 38, 2 Cor. 8-9.)
When the true gospel truly changes us we will have a special love for those same people.
When we understand the gospel, what we’ve been freely given, we will freely give. God’s grace makes us just. Just as Peter urges Paul, remember the poor, God would urge us today, remember the poor. Do whatever it takes to remember them. Pictures on the fridge or prayer for them or going to where they are – remember them. We’ve been given so much.
When we’ve really seen and understood the gospel, that free grace is given to those who deserve it the least, we’ll want to help others by extending free gifts of grace. The true gospel motivates us to good works.
{Thanks for reading}
*Looking for ways to love the poor? Yesterday was World Malaria Day. My sister-in-law wrote this post with stats and suggestions for giving. Or visit World Vision, Compassion, or GFA and buy mosquito nets (only $10 at GFA— it’s a steal of a deal!)
Week's end with thanks
- Typing, “The End.”
- Trusting that it isn’t.
- Watching Tinkerbell with my two little fairies.
- Napping with Heidi.
- Early mornings sweet.
- Pouring rain making it easy to stick to task.
- Dutch’s imagination.
- SO excited for my man to come home after four days away.
- The weekend forecast.
- The Gospel Storybook Bible
- Kimmee.
- Debra’s answer to prayer.
- Being beautiful because of Him.
- Trying–and loving–Tsh’s no shampoo trick.
- Not totally understanding, but being ok.
- So many unknowns. So glad He knows.
- That He has immeasurable power.
- That He works miracles.
- That His creation shouts and speaks of His greatness.
- That somehow He will wipe every tear and make all things new. Halelujah!
- That His love never changes.
- That His faithfulness reaches to the heavens.
- That I mercy endures.
- That His grace is crazy!
- Looking at little things.
- Salty almonds.
- Clean clothes.
- Hot shower.
- Friendship.
- Peace.
When you really want to be beautiful …
Today we have the joy of talking beauty over with Caila. You all remember her, our beloved guest poster? Well she’s doing a fabulous REAListic fitness and beauty challenge, helping REAL women embrace REAL beauty. I love her heart and vision for this project, so head on over there with me today and enjoy this little excerpt from Sacred Mundane. And while you’re there, check out her life and sewing adventures. She’s a gal worth following … thanks for reading.
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Every experience of beauty points to eternity.
-Hans Urs von Balthasar
We all want to be beautiful women. We might shun cosmetics and hate high-heels—and that’s fine—but no matter what our dress or sense of style, we all want to be beautiful. We want to be pleasing to God and others. How? … {Read the rest here}
Trading Mommy Guilt for Mommy Grace
Thanks, reader Michelle, for your thoughts on this topic to which we can all relate a little too well!
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In a society of parenting magazines and books galore, guilt rings loud from every corner: the food we buy or don’t, the time we spend or don’t, the activities we choose or don’t.
And that is how I found myself Googling up a storm:
- “how to play with a toddler”
- “what activities to do with a toddler”
- “how much time to play with a toddler”
I struggle with getting down on the floor to play. We spend plenty of time out for walks, washing dishes, reading stacks of books, eating together. But plop me on the floor with a pile of Duplos and stuffed animals? My attention span shrinks to that of a goldfish.
I love my little girl. I love her onomatopoeia- and food-centric vocabulary. I love the pride she takes in putting things in the trash all by herself. I love her giggles, her hugs…everything about this child. And so I find myself often worrying: if I love her, why don’t I play with her more? Doesn’t she need that from me?
Then one day, my little one started a new game. She put a felt tomato in a pot and brought it from her play kitchen to the ottoman. After warning me it was hot, she set it down and folded her hands.
And she waited for me to pray for her felt tomato.
Stunned, I folded my own hands and bowed my head. “Father, thank You for this food and for this day, Amen.”
“Amen!” she squealed, completely delighted.
My prayer had not been long or pretty or even particularly inspiring. But that didn’t stop my little girl from asking for another one.
And so a new game began. Here, there, and anywhere in our day, my daughter would stop and want to pray. “Pway!” I would hear and watch her shiny grin as she folded her hands and waited for me to begin. We thanked Jesus for Papa, for the sunshine, for our snack, for the great deal on pasta sauce…whatever was at hand or on my mind.
We asked God to show us how to use our time, how to love others, how to minister to this or that person. We prayed for our church’s missionaries. We prayed for the boy we sponsor through Compassion.
And then I had one of those days. One of those husband working late, the laundry monster is hungry, not feeling well, and the little one’s teething kind of days. After spinning my wheels and getting nowhere, I looked down in my daughter’s eyes and knew I had to change courses.
I sat down beside her on the floor, next to the drying rack filled with damp shirts and diapers. “Mama’s having a bad day…can I pray?”
Like a little sage, she nodded and waited. My tears poured out with words of struggle and hurt and exhaustion. I don’t recall the words, but I still remember the peace I felt afterward as I hugged my baby girl near.
She doesn’t ask to pray as often anymore, but when she does, I tell her to do the talking. “Tankoo” kicks off a string of sweet baby babble that melts my heart, even though I don’t understand a word of it.
I still need to put forth the effort to play with my daughter, to love on her by playing dolls and blocks, but watching her bow her head at the dinner table or fold her hands in her crib while Papa prays before bed remind me that God can use even imperfect mommies like me to reach His children.
{I love how Michelle traded mama-guilt for mama-grace when she embraced the sacred mundane by simply praying with and for her girl. Everything is “play” to children if we do it with joy and grace. Thanks for reading.}
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Michelle Jorgenson is mother to one dainty toddler girl and wife to a professor-in-training. She spends naptime spinning yarns and her first novel, Regardless, chronicles the life of a believer in the early church as he brushes shoulders with real people from the Bible.