BRAVE is the Word of the Year

BRAVE

It's the catchphrase of the year.

I've seen it spelled out on blogs and book covers, and painted on banners hanging from church walls.   It's also the theme of the upcoming MOPS season (Because "Mothers of Preschoolers" need a daily dose of brave).  And this charge to courage is something I've been contemplating personally.  I think we all have in the wake of last year's popular term,  Messy.

Yeah, last year the word was "Messy," because life was.  And I can whole heartedly identify with the messy parts of mothering.  I'm not talking about the constant roll of snacks that leave crumbs, or smudge marks on walls, or the dried play dough on the kitchen table, but the emotional mess that leaves us weak and frail and longing for a fresh dose of "Brave" each new day.

So much like Manna, we get just enough of the mercy-gift of courage to last the next 24 hours.  And we need it this way because we need it each day.  So we grab hold of it each morning, especially during those long seasons in the wilderness.  Because Brave gives us hope for each day's mess.

It's the courage to walk into the fray of motherhood, marriage, illness, unemployment, depression... with a confident heart that says, "I've got this, because God's got me."

God's Got me!

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." 

- Matthew 19:26

Last week I was preaching this softly to my own self, timidly like a whisper.  Gently linking these two main themes of motherhood & life together like coy new friends.  But this week I'm feeling the message rise up with its inherent power.   Because they go together naturally.  They have since the fall, when sin hit the atmosphere and made the first Mess!  God knew we needed a rescuer to redeem and a helper to give us courage.

Nothing is impossible with God.

So God sent His Son to redeem us and His Spirit to lead us.  And nothing in your life is beyond His Saving or His Leading, His Redeeming or His cleaning.

Not my mess, most assuredly not my mess.  Not my heartache, not my insecurities, nor my overwhelmed mind or underwhelming parenting; not that either. Nothing is impossible with God.  Not hurting marriages, migraines, or hormonal imbalances that make you feel crazy as you rock that baby, swaddled in your arms.  Not your abilities or your inabilities, or the fact your life always seems to swing out of balance as your commute to work with guilt, or stay home with guilt.  Yeah, He's got that too.  Because nothing's impossible with Him by your side.

As a matter of fact, the whole purpose for His coming to earth was to redeem us from our messy sin state.  Wrap your mind around this:

I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him.

-Psalm 40:1-3

There we were in the mess of it all, in the mud and the mire and the muck of sin and separation.  But then we saw our need and turned to Him, My Messy Friends, and we cried out!  And you know what He did?  Of course you do... HE LIFTED US!  He Saved us.  And He continues to Save still!

That's where we find our Courage today, Brave Ones:

Doesn't it makes sense to your messy core?  And this is how He responds:

He lifted me out of the smily pit, out of the mud and the mire...

Right out of the Mess.

This is where the saying fits: He takes our Mess and Makes it His Message.

That's what we become when Brave defines our lives.

His message.

Now read it again and note the end:

He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him.

He fills our mouths with a new song, a new word, a new year.

From Messy to Brave.

(So that) Many will see and fear the Lord

and put their trust in Him.

Brave for the benefit of others

- enduring the mess

for the benefit

of many.

Here's the charge:  Gather the manna you need for this day and this day alone, and recommit to faith, and to trusting God each hard moment.  I will do the same on my end. Because I need it today as we drop our two littles off at a new school after having bounced around so much.  They are a little gun shy this morning and I am too.   But I'm choosing courage and praying it lights my heart up, and shines like a light.  Like a light.  For their benefit, and the benefit of all I meet today.

"Let your Light (your bravery amidst the mess of life) so shine before others, that they may see your good works (your courage) and glorify our father in Heaven." (Matthew 5:16)

all poured out at home

 I fancy that every soul of us could write a book which the world would read, if only we dared to tell the exact truth about ourselves and our happenings, and so give a perfect reflection of one human life.  But who of us dares to do that?  (Candace, Thereber Wheeler, 1918)

There we were in the pastor’s office, young, naïve, and love struck; counseling our way through our engagement as we planned the wedding. Thankfully, the pastor didn’t just want a well-planned party, he saw ahead into our marriage and knew we needed more than youthful love to carry us through.  So he turned to me and asked, “What are you most afraid of?” I sputtered, stuttered, and stopped.

He let me think in the awkward quiet, and it grew hot as my future husband waited for an answer. Finally I said, “I’m afraid of losing myself.” It came from somewhere deeper than my conscious mind. Like prophetic deep. And our counselor nodded and smiled, then waited for me to continue. “Not right away, maybe, but over the years. Because I love this man, and want to pour myself out for him and into him; and one day I want to stay at home with our children, and pour myself out for them… and what if I get all poured out and lose the stuff that makes me special? I don’t even know what it might look like. But what if I do?”

He nodded again then shifted his gaze to my beloved, my fiancé, to the one who had not yet done wrong in my eyes. The older then said to the younger, “Do you hear this?  She’s gong to lay her life down to lift yours up. But this is only going to work if you do the same for her.” It was intense, with my man nodding emphatically like he understood, but neither of us really did. Cause we hadn’t lived it yet.

Now here we are 13 years in. And while he’s tried to lift me up and serve me back, it’s not a simple equation where y = x, because his y chromosome doesn’t always equal my x. And so much of our pouring out and laying it all down at home is what women do, in most traditional households. So here I am, giving me away for all these people, and he’s off working, laying his life down for us in a whole other sense. And all that good counseling has to find it way to application. So we try to figure it out late at night, once the children are in bed, and we meet up together in the dark.

But when he falls asleep, I'm still awake.  And I see that my pre-married fears were rooted in something real and common amongst wives and mothers. Which may be why you see yourself here. Having known the dark ages where passion for life, ministry, and art are lost for a time, as we lay it all down to lift up the little lives entrusted to our care.

So let's mourn together for just a moment; just long enough to inhale and exhale. Allowing our collective hearts to acknowledge these feelings of loss at present. Breathing in we remember the verse that’s like an anthem song, reminding us that there are seasons for everything. Seasons for war and for peace, seasons to plant and to reap, to rend and to mend, to know death, but also to know resurrected life this side of glory. Because our counselor, though well intended, didn’t get it right after all. The only One who can lift me up... is Jesus. His Spirit and His life and His power each day.  His mercies every morning.  His power perfected in weakness.  As I pour out, He pours in.  As I lay down, He lifts me up.  As I give all, so much like Him.

So much like Him.

But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering

upon the sacrifice and service of your faith,

I rejoice and share my joy with you all.

(Philippians 2:17)

Dear mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, friends... I'm praying for you today.  For the story you are so honestly and generously living.  Pouring out at home.  To him.  To them.

"Every soul could write a book..."

Considering Bumps and Joy

Can I quote a reader's email to me and call it a post?  Because it's so rich, and she's so good to share, having walked this mothering road before me by 20 years.  In response to the bouncing we've done, from homeschool to private school and back home again, and the courage I'm mustering, Margo wrote this:  

Dear Wendy….I hear you loud and clear…we all want a smooth ride.

I remember when our boys were young we had space and the option to keep some rabbits. What fun for the boys and I! We had trouble with a couple of the bunnies fighting, however. Did some research and tried what was suggested. Put the two rabbits together in a cardboard box for a drive on a bumpy road. This disturbance required them to take comfort in each other and thus became a bonding experience. It worked! I'm sure you can make some spiritual applications for yourself with this whether you are bonding with each other or bonding with our God Who is so trustworthy.

Absolutely!  Thank you.  And Yes Please.  We need this picture of how God purposes our bumpiest roads, to land us closer to His heart, and the close knit heartbeats of our loved ones.

Another reader sent me an email after that same bumpy post, saying that her family had also hit another patch of rough.  But they landed on the beach for an overnight camping trip. Close together as a family of four.  Round the camp fire, then cuddled up in a tent. Bonding.  And because I know this woman personally, I know each bump rocks and tosses her closer to The Lord as well.  Camping out with Him.

Bouncing closer to one another,

and smack dab into the palm of His kind hand.

         The two most comforting places on earth.

But how we hate the bumps, nevertheless.  And we fight them.  But fighting only intensifies the pain.

Let us give into the pain, like we do during child birth.  When we know it's time to push, and we press down hard, saying "this is going to be excruciating, but I'm going to ride it to the other side".  And there, past the pain, is something beautiful.

God's doing something as we labor through hard.  As we lean in and relax and trust, amidst the searing pain.  He's developing in us perseverance, and character,  and hope that will endure long after the labor is done.  And that's beautiful.  That's the bouncing hard but landing soft experience of God's faithful hand.

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:3-5)

Again and again I'm turning to these thoughts of hard days and seasons,  illness', diagnosis', my own weakness' and life, with a joy filled perspective, because I see that God ordains each bump for our good and His glory.  Much of it we won't understand until we see it from His vantage point.

But today I remember, His Vantage point is love.

Sitting here today, considering bumps and joy, wishing I could pour you a cup of tea and keep this dialogue rolling.

I'm so thankful for your comments and emails.  Because we learn in conversation.

The Spiritual discipline of pulling away

I got hungry for their faces today, in the middle of my workout in the garage.  It came upon me suddenly like the crashing of the wave that took my children under at the beach last week.  And I ran to them through the whitewash, to find them laughing, unharmed, faces speckled with sand.  And I ran to them this morning, and found them criss-cross-applesauce around Legos, singing Jungle Boogie. Working out on my solitary machine is a discipline, not because it's exercise, but because it takes pulling away and doing something healthy for me.  And that's so hard. But it's good and right and balancing, like dropping anchor. It's the spiritual discipline of pulling away, so that I can rush back to them refreshed and ready.

I wish I had a formula to give you, packaged pretty and ready to be applied to every home, family, and unique brand of busy life.  But I can barely figure it myself, this pulling away and checking in with me, then dashing back to find them happy with their Legos, their Daddy, their Nana.  But they are... happy and safe.  And the healthier and happier and more grounded we are (Physically, Spiritually, Emotionally) the better we are for them.

Here are 3 daily exercises

to help grow our roots down,

so that we can raise our branches high

to support the fruit we've born.

1) Do something for your health -

This can be as simple as drinking a glass of water before every meal, stepping on your treadmill, or calling your dentist to set an appointment for a cleaning.  This can be the walk to the mailbox, up and down the driveway a dozen times instead of one.  Or making snack baggies of veggies and almonds for later today.

one appointment set.

one treadmill stepped.

one healthy snack prepped.

2) Do something in your home -

Forego the mound of laundry, this isn't about the dishes in your sink, only find a place you think is lovely and inviting.  It may be in the presence of your children or all alone in the empty guest room where everything smells of linen and lavender and Grandma.  Sit in the chair you never sit in, but chose specifically for it's comfort.  Sit there long enough to recognize the need for a rose, then go pick it from your garden, or pen it on the last line of tomorrow's grocery list.

one moment.

one chair.

one rose.

3) Laugh out loud -

It's the gift we give our husbands, this saying yes to laughter, and we give it to the children who dance to our laughter's lyrical, "I love you."  But today I invite you to laugh for your own heart's health and happiness.  So, take a deep breath in each day, and be all there with your children, him too, in your guest room and your garden.  Be all there in the laundry room when you find marbles in their pockets, and laugh out loud, spilling over gratitude.

one laugh

one marble.

one gift.

For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time for my departure is near. (2 Timothy 4:6)

Pulling away only to rush back in, daily like the tide.  Morning and evening, high and low tide.  Like a rhythm that becomes a habit, a way of life.  This expected pulsing in and pouring out feels safe.   Dropping anchor and pulling it back onboard.  Returning so easily as though you were never gone.  Gone for a haircut, as they played with friends.  Back from the doctor for your annual check up.   Thumbs up, you're healthy.  Out for a coffee with an encouraging friend.  Back in with fresh bread from the bakery. Nourished and nourishing.

In and out like the tide.

Tell me now, what did you do for your health today?  What did you do in your home for the sheer pleasure of being at home?  And can't you, will you, won't you... laugh out loud?  Close down your screen, find those little ones and chase them like the wave upon the shore.  Rushing back in.

Slow Down and Say YES to Summer

When I catch myself mid-morning saying, "No", for no good reason, I practice Slow Motion.  I slow it down and listen to what they are asking for.  

Mama, can you sit with me?

Let's play this together.

Mama, can we have another popsicle?

Mama, will you swim with us?

Mama, want to shoot hoops?

Mama, come look at our blanket fort!

Can we eat our cookies in here?

It is summertime, the season of "Yes" in the sunshine of their youth… but the winter of my age casts shadows on their joy. And it's sad, not just because the dark cloud of "No" steals joy, but it darkens the Gospel of Christ's "YES."  So I slow down, and count and breath, and ask myself if I might say YES, one more time, to this too.

 A mother's "No" darkens the Gospel of Christ's "Yes!"

It's easier to Say Yes, if we're willing to slow down and Live Yes.  Yes to life in our home.  Yes to surrendering our attention.  Yes to crumbs inside the blanket fort.  Yes to squeezing into the damp bathing suit you already put on as an offering today.  Yes to homemade lemonade.  Yes to making every meal today into a picnic in your backyard.  Yes to the face paint.

Mama, would you make me The Lone Ranger?

Yes

Mama, Can we paint each other too?

um... er... yes?

It's odd to me that this Yes-Life is hard.  But it is... when we blaze through it with our agenda, and need to keep it clean.  But when we slow it down, to the slow motion rhythms of summertime, there is time to redirect our answers.  As we redirect our Yes-Heart, we direct the hearts in our home toward the Yes-Gospel of Christ.

Caution:  This is not about giving into whining, and this is not about permissive parenting... this is about relationship.  This is about joining our children in their joy;  joining them in the sunshine, chlorinated glory of their youth.

If I had this life to live over again

I'd run barefoot, relax a bit more.

And I'd talk with more children

and I'd learn how they laugh,

and I'd teach them how I've learned to fly.

(I'm Gonna Fly, Amy Grant)

Two night's ago I held my sick child, weary from the tummy bug.  It was 10:30pm and his body was weak from vomitting.  With face flushed and speech slurred he said, "There's one thing I love about being sick, Mama."  "What's that?" I asked as I mopped his brow.  "You sit with me and listen to me.  You stay with me longer than you do when I'm well."

Yes, I do.  And Yes, I don't.  And Yes, I want to slow things down and sit with you today.  Today when you are well and the sun is shining.  Yes, today when the slow motion rhythm of summertime bids us all slow down.  As Ann Voskamp encourages, "Everyday take time."

Everyday take time. Everyday take time to feel the sun and the wind and the rain and feel that you are loved -- and then let your life overflow with that love so that a thousand others feel that love. Everyday take time to live loved -- and live so others feel loved. Everyday take time. Time is there for the taking. For the unwrapping.

There are only so many summers in a life.

Run through water sprinklers and touch someone and learn how to belly laugh -- practice belly laughing every day. This is a way to practice your faith."

(Ann Voskamp, What Our Boys Need In This Economy Their Dads Work In)

Take time to say Yes today.  Yes to love.  Yes to the belly laugh.  Yes to the crumbs.  Yes to the facepaint.  Yes to sprinklers and sunshine.  Yes to life, today.

Enjoy this short video message from me, on the power of saying yes to our kids.