If you're married, how has the love between you and your husband grown and changed since the day of your wedding? What would you say to a bride on her wedding day?

I once heard about a study that showed how the brain changes once couples have been together for a certain amount of time. I cannot recall how long, though I am sure you can find it with Google, but it showed how different parts of the brain interact with longevity. The chemicals that were once produced in the butterflies in the stomach phase are no longer there. Not to say butterflies are no longer apart of the relationship but more like you are able to be a more sober version of yourself, not seeing the through rose colored glasses. It is the beginning of the opportunity to choose to love and to stay. 

By the time Ricardo and I said I do, we had been together for four and a half years and had shared our address for three of them. Those butterflies had long since flown off, our friendship was even more rooted in love. He has always been my best friend and for that I am ever thankful.  

The love that was there on our wedding has changed and evolved, for the better, something I hardly give a nod to or thought otherwise before marriage.

Ricardo is more of my best buddy than ever before, as we share even more inside jokes and children and experiences that have squished us together in ways only time and circumstance can.

Bride to be,

I am not sure what else to say about marriage. And honestly, marriage is my favorite and for the most part, it has been easy for us, not perfect but easier than I have heard of others; not to boast but in true transparent fashion it has been a gift from God. Ricardo is my go to guy and I think that is key in marriage and laughing.

As for my advice to new brides, it may be a little more sweet than you experience but if you push your feet in and open your heart and set God at the center, love will be cultivated.

I received this top ten list for marriage when I was engaged and it pretty much covers the basic topics. I slip it in to wedding cards and give it to newlyweds because it is such great advice. Lloyd had been married for a long time, so it is surely tried and true and I can attest. 

Perhaps you are coming in to marriage with your address, bed and bank account already shared, as were ours. Our adjustment period was short and uneventful, I guess you could say. We lived with my sister and her boyfriend and got along great, besides Ricardo eating their chips. 

But maybe, just maybe you are waiting until after you are married to merge your belongings and for that I commend you.

Either way, marriage may be more eventful than anticipated in all the wrong ways, in which case I would instruct you back to the top ten list and to your knees in prayer, both by yourself and together. 

This later is not my story and I cannot direct you through experience but I know love is meant to hold fast and unwavering to the hope we profess. And I want to encourage you it will get better and easier, I hope. But honestly it could get harder before that happens. Love anyway. Choose to love.

The more you are around someone the more the opportunity to love or not. To grow and learn. To experience life together.  

So breathe and laugh and smile, even when things are tough. Love always wins and prayer changes everything. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

If you have a sibling, take a few minutes to thank God for that relationship, for that life, and for the memories you share. 

I am the fourth born to my mom out of seven. The middle child. My brother, Rich, was the first, followed by Debbie almost two years later and then Mandi graced the world two years after her. There is a four year gap between Mandi and I and then nineteen months later, Carrie arrived. Nearly four years later Nick was born and finishing our family, Naloni was born four years later. Seventeen years span from the oldest to the youngest. And yes, we were raised Mormon in case you were wondering. It was a common question growing up, though I hardly understood the ties at the time.  

Growing up, friends asked if I was adopted due to the lack of resemblance among my siblings. My dad's complexion is dark, mirroring his Hawaiian and Filipino heritage, while my mom is all things white and boasts blonde hair and blue eyes and fair skin. Her features are the ones that I reflect, with skin that likes to redden, instead of tan, unlike my siblings who glow in the sun.

We do share a common nose, the one of my dad and my mom's smile. And there are pieces here and there that if you look closely, you can see, though most think we are merely friends rather than siblings.

But we do share the same parents, despite the questions of onlookers who had to clarify with my mom if our dads were the same. Once, mom did respond sarcastically to a lady in the store after answering the question numerous times, naming different dads for each of us. She was the bakers and she was the butchers. He was the milk mans. And we are not sure about her. The lady walked away speechless with eye brows raised.

I have never been able to imagine what it would be like to live without siblings; I am ever grateful for mine. We always had someone to watch and listen to and play with and learn from. Not always the best things to learn but we learned them all the same.

Rich taught us at an early age about entrepreneurship with his rental property. He marketed his spacey, luxurious room for a nominal fee to my older sisters for occasional use. He worked hard and had fun, sometimes a little too much and showed us what not to mimic, like his high school prank of putting memorial benches on top of the building.

Debbie taught us gymnastics and how to walk on our hands around the house and just how cool Rocky Balboa was. She showed us the best places to hide at the top of the closet, though mom warned me not to imitate that either. She taught us beauty tips like face masks and things to make your hair shine and boys.

Mandi showed us the value of practice, even if it meant practicing her flute in the garage. She never gave up and tried her best. She taught us to keep going even when it was hard. And about instant messaging and computer stuff. She always seemed to know.

Carrie showed us how to voluntarily pass out at school and horribly forge our parents' signature and try to convince the teacher it was legit. Carrie showed us how to trust people, especially Disney princesses, as she made her way around Disneyland with princess Jasmine.  

Nick was the baby but not quite. He was always a sport, even letting us dress him up in our doll clothes before he could talk. He was concerned about staying out of trouble and let us know that if we were bad then we would have to put an Always pad over our mouth, even demonstrating it for us. We were thankful for the suggestion but never instilled this practice in to action.

Naloni was the baby and was just that. He was loved on bit extra by everyone and coddled a little more. We laughed at the way he said "mac - woni" for macaroni and carried him everywhere. He was constantly being held and mistaken for Debbie's son.

A short snit bit cannot do justice the thankfulness and love for all the years we shared the same address and presents under the tree and birthday parties and late night swims under the stars and movie nights and the lessons along the way. For memories that have been and for those to come, I am ever grateful. 

Here's to siblings. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

How have your feelings about your body changed over the years? Do you ever think of it as a friend? Do you have compassion toward it? What would that look like for you?

I have to say I was a little bummed when I read over this prompt; once again talking about my body. I touched on these questions on this post and some on this one and even a bit here.  I think it may be making me a little self conscious with all the attention it has been getting lately.

It seems like I will have to inevitably move on to describing my body in detail, like its pear shape that my sweet fashion teacher surprisingly pointed out to the class, as I stood next to the cutting table lining up my pattern to cut during our lecture on body shapes and outfits that flatter them.

Naturally, I will then move on to scars, like the one on my right pinky where the sharper than normal butter knife slipped and cut to the bone. And the shiny rectangle one on my left leg, on the bottom of my knee where several layers of skin were scratched off by the corner of the TV in my shared room, after my sister in her anger threw it on the ground in front of the door and my unsuspecting self knew nothing about it when I entered.

All that to say, yes I like my body and I am ever grateful for it. It is a sweet friend, who has put up with a lot and thankfully still works as it should, even when I indulge in too much chocolate.

I do not think I can squeeze out anymore about it at this point and will bow out of this, a little shorter than usual, as is my height. And hoping you are loving the skin you are in, too because it is quite fabulous, friend.

Here's to more stuff about bodies.  

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Embrace the joys of summer by dancing, swimming, sailing, wriggling your toes in the sand, or even just feeling the sun on your face.

I love summer. California summer to be exact because it is not the same everywhere. It has its own smell that draws out memories and curates new ones, like long summer nights and the smell of water running from a sun heated hose on to plants and toes. 

Oceans and lakes and rivers and pools have always been some of my favorite things.The beach is my favorite with its salty air and almost always guaranteeing a breeze. In high school Santa Cruz and its famous boardwalk became an essential part of summer.  

It started with a trip with Kristina and Matt and their dad and my then boyfriend Dave and Ricardo and his little brother, Chris, all picked in their Astro van. Kristina's dad entertained us on the way there with sing alongs and funny stories and allowing us to decide which route to take, through the city or ocean view. We played mini golf, where I somehow managed to get a hole in one and lose my ball in the same game.  We swam in the ocean and laid in the sun and posed for silly pictures of fake shark attacks and riding on kiddie toys.We stopped on our way home and ate at Onos, a local sea food restaurant. After much resistance, I hesitantly tried raw fish for the first time and was not a fan like I was sure I would not be.

The following summer Ricardo and I and Chris and Manny and Senia and Maria, embarked on our own adventure piling in to his parent's suburban and started the two and a half hour drive, my sister and her boyfriend following along in his truck.

We played more mini golf and took up the arcade, watching the boys work up a sweat over Dance Dance Revolution. We ate strawberry funnel cakes, over flowing with powdered sugar and vanilla ice cream and walked up and down the boardwalk, taking in the overcast weather.

We stopped at Onos on the way home, trying to remember how to get there before GPS was on available on our smart phones. As we attempted to navigate, we wound our way down highway one during its reconstruction, with my sister leading the way. They entered a do not enter zone; their truck disappearing as we looked at each other in the suburban hoping there was not a cliff of the other side of the signs. We stopped to turn around as the sun set and hoped their car would return unharmed.

The truck headlights returned, after what seemed like forever and we gave up on our search for dinner, just as we passed it on the high way. We turned around and enjoyed some food, no fish for me this time around, accompanied by horrible service. We paid the bill leaving no tip and started walking to our cars, when the waiter approached us in his apron, stating because there was so many of us, we had to leave a mandatory tip, though it was not disclosed anywhere on the receipt or menu. We stood in disbelief, refusing to pay, when I gave in and paid what he said was owed to stop all the awkwardness of it all and vowing not to come back.

We laughed and drove home, almost getting crushed on our way in to San Francisco through the tunnel bridge.

And each year we have returned, Ricardo and I, a little older and a little more lured by its magic and fun and its symbol of summer and our youth. It is where we eventually said I do and ran in to its waves, wedding rings fresh on our fingers and my lips turning blue from its cold afternoon wind. It is a little spot in our story filled with sand and sun and enchantment. 

Here's to all things summer. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Honesty gives others the freedom to be honest, as well, opening up the possibility of deeper connection and friendship.

Telling the truth was always instilled in me growing up and I did not like to lie. Until eight grade when it seemed like all I could tell was false things. It was easy and I did not care and the words seemed to roll off the tongue naturally that I hardly had time to think about what I was saying but it sounded good and feasible and I could keep straight faces and believable tones.

It was a season of being places I should not been and hanging out with people I should not have, which inevitably, why the lies were instilled and put in to place and had to be told. We were going to the library, though just the first stop. We were going to bed, only to sneak out our window. It was these sorts of half truths that my younger sister and I took on and found code words for and our own identity wrapped up in it because we were naive and it was fun and exciting and because of course we knew what was best for us.

After everything unraveled and the fun was over and the police escorted us home one night and other dominoes fell in to their proper place and we answered questions, while they were being recorded on police tapes, the lies were done. Sure, some of my questions on tape were not the full truth but that was the end.

I was over it, though the scars from the lies were ever infused in my parents; I could not be trusted and rightly so.

But I knew the truth and was determined from there on out to live it. To only say those things which were planned on occurring and had occurred. And that is how I base my life and relationships. Brimming with honesty, sometimes perhaps a little too honest at times.

Honesty has a way of pushing itself to the surface, whether now or later, and feels that much better when it is said, which is why I like it that much better.

Honesty has a way of keeping things open and vulnerable and in a spot allowing others see you for who you are. It gives them the opportunity to rally for or against you and possibly a reason to dislike you or dig their heels in with yours.

Honesty is relief and live giving and freeing on so many levels, one of them being the fact the story does not change, details may be forgotten and a little skewed the further as time passes but the bones are there, bare and in full view for other eyes to see. It gives power and cultivates unity and weaves threads of understanding between those who hear and receive it.

Here's to honesty and living like it matters.

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Do you have passion or energy or frustration that you don't know what to do with, or gifts that you suspect lie buried, untapped? What is just one step that you can take?

Right now, all of my energy and passion and gifts are being tapped in to and used to their core. Something I am enjoying and learning to balance and develop discipline, a process in it of itself that God has been graciously teaching me. Perhaps this is the honing in on my passions, in a sort of way. Learning how to make them work for me and simply enjoying them and not getting too critical of what they look like or how I would like them to be.

This writing project has been keeping words on the tips of my fingers and thoughts in my head bouncing around and made me feel more like a writer in the sense of the word. Knowing I have to write makes it a little harder but the commitment makes it that much more rich.

Some of the prompts I have not known where to start and have taken me longer to process. I have had to pray and dig deep and really remember things I had thought I long forgotten; a friend even commenting on how good my memory was. This made me laugh because my memory seems to be the thing I am constantly lacking in and forgetful is working its way up in my vocabulary. Like the text I never sent or the email that was never written or the forms that were left at home. Unless I write things down, they seem to disappear. But I digress.

Right now, the gifts are being tapped and prodded and flowing in to projects like this one and the small business we are working on and of course all the other little ones that I like to do with my children and for friends.

My creative outlets are becoming work but I think it is in the best of ways and something I am looking forward to continuing to play with. I have been learning to enjoy the learning process in creativity, like the time it has taken to learn the ropes of new programs for graphic design and figuring out new platforms for websites. It is all part of the process and not on the exact time line I had first imagined but there none the less, being formed and reigned in and let loose.

And only God knows how long they will last and if there are others that will come but for now, I am savoring the ones that are in my hands.

Here's to gifts and using them. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Sometimes we can guide each other along toward courage and heath. Who's done that for you? Who could you be a guide for in this season?

In college, I had a nutrition professor who was passionate about food, I cannot recall her name but her love for all things health and her slender build and long dark hair are engrained in my memory. Growing up, I always refused whole wheat, whole wheat anything. If it was brown and I would not touch it but after a few weeks in her class, she opened my eyes to health on another level with sprinkled vocabulary words like flax seed and saturated fat and whole wheat bread and flour made its way in to my cart and home with me. She brought in samples of recipes with muffins filled with carrots and apples and seeds that were surprisingly delicious and gave us all copies. I walked out of class eating my muffin and talking on the phone with Ricardo in amazement at the taste and ingredients.

A few years later, I regularly babysat two of the sweetest, calmest children I have ever known. For snack, I was ever cutting up apples and pears and peeling oranges and spreading sunflower butter on celery sticks topped with raisins and mixing bowls of nuts and dried berries. At this point, I was hardly eating fruits, besides Cuties and apples but as I cut and chopped, the aroma was so sweet and the pears were so juicy, I started purchasing them, too, enjoying each bite.  Sunflower butter was a new concept, as peanut butter was always a staple growing up but it was delicious none the less, especially homemade with cinnamon and maple syrup mixed in. And nuts made a perfect snack, with a few chocolate chips.

Their mama was the first person I knew to do science experiments with Halloween candy; I had never heard of such a thing and it took me by surprise the day I came over to candy sitting on the counter with a list of ways to examine and dissolve them. Candies I had grown up eating and never thought twice about - except the time a classmate told me they were made in a science lab but I had no idea what he meant by that or that it was not natural for candy to be made that way. It sounded kind of fancy to me and tasted delicious.

But this time I thought more about it. Looking on the packages and realizing what I was consuming made it that much less appealing when I did not know what half the ingredients were.

A little while later, after Penny was born, she started getting rashes, which seemed to be triggered by certain foods, mainly those with preservatives and artificial colors. This made me evaluate what we were eating even more and drove me a little crazy and forced me to narrow our choices to healthier options with better ingredients and lots of fruits of vegetables, which I had thankfully already been exposed to and implementing in our diets.

When people are passionate about something, there tends to be a natural guidance towards it. I love how they showed me through their knowledge and expertise on the matter in the way they lived and treated their bodies. A sort of leading by example.

After all, are we really what we eat?

Here's to guiding and health. 

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Whether you're headed to your own wedding or to a neighborhood BBQ, coffee with a friend. or dinner with your family, the most important thing to bring is a present heart. (Savor by Shauna Niequist)

When Penny turned two, we requested no presents from her party goers, unless they would like to donate to a local children's home. The invitation noting that their presence was the best present; a statement a friend had included on an invite a few years before that really spoke to me.

We were thankful for the superfluous amount of love and presents she received for her first party the year before but it was the people who made it and we wanted to focus on this as her second year cultivated.

It was the friends, new and old coming to celebrate our first year of parenthood and her birthday. It was the memory of the wind threatening to blow the entire party away, complete with the cupcakes and pop up shade. It was family driving nearly two hours just to be there, one of them being my grandma who rarely can make the drive these days. It was her laughter and excitement as Penny opened her gifts and played with the boxes. It was her full presence and laughter and joy bursting forth that made the day extra special.

It was my in laws flying in from out of state just to celebrate. It was their help with all the transporting of decorations and food from our small apartment to the park in hopes that the cupcakes would not fall and that the sandwiches would stay together and that the food would arrive in the same condition we had packaged them.

It was the time Senia spent making and decorating the pink heart cookie favors. In true Senia fashion, she had stayed up past midnight to finish them, as she had been working. Her art abilities have beautifully overflowed in to her baking and she arrived at the party with the prettiest heart cookies, full of detail, which we packaged right there, my mother in law helping to fill the bags.

Being present is showing up. It is support and listening and the physical body just being. It is clearing our mind to truly hear hearts and taking them for what they are. It is showing up with no other agenda than to be there.

With so many variables pulling in different directions, being fully present is truly a gift, far beyond anything we can give. When our last breath inhales, it is not the things that people will miss but the person who passed. Some trinkets and such may last as reminders but it is the memories of time and presence spent together that span the divide and fill our hearts until we meet again.

Here's to being fully present.

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This is part of a 365 day blogging series through Savor by Shauna Niequist. If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

My husband introduced me to Shauna Niequist several years ago. He had come across Cold Tangerines as a recommendation from several friends and wanted to see what all the raving was about it. We checked it out from the library because that is how our usual reading material goes and started reading it together. And surprising myself, I loved it.

Her writing style instantly became one of my  favorites. Her use of life and learning and description and word choice were perfect and for that, the reading was quite simply delightful. Like the walking in the clouds kind of delightful - that sparks memories and inspires. 

After reading it, we moved on to other books and studies and never looked for any other pieces by her.

Until April.

On our two and a half hour, childless drive to Redding in celebration of my birthday, we searched for a book to listen to and stumbled over her other books. We chose Bittersweet and listened, as miles ticked by and blue skies met the mountains, leaving the valley behind.

And I remembered just how much I loved the way she birthed stories out of her words and breathed life and redemption in to the hard seasons for all to hear.

I searched our local library for other works and came across her devotional, Savor, which takes parts of her books and turns them in to snippets to ponder and think on, along with a question or two. One devotional for each day of the year.

So, loving her rhythm of life that is stitched in to each page, I thought it would be fun and a bit crazy, to blog through Savor. Sharing a post (hopefully) daily, with grace days laced in between I'm sure, that corresponds to each day of the devotional, answering her prompts and questions.

I told the idea to Ricardo, to which he immediately checked Amazon for the devotional because the library only lends a book for so long and it just happened to be half off. It arrived in the mail as an early mother's day present and my biggest writing challenge. I have struggled with writing consistently and have a tendency to get clammy hands and for my mind to go blank when given a prompt, so it is a stretch.

I sat with the book the following morning next to my bible, questioning if I should try this. It is a big commitment to write every day and to share it openly. Possibly a little more than I can chew. But it sat there. Already purchased. A commitment in itself. After more prayer and over analyzing the whole thing, God urged me forward. He would provide the words, just as he provides for the birds of the air.

I cannot clearly see what this will look like, as the questions are scattered with life and God and all the things in between and I have not read them all because that would be cheating (right?!), so here's an adventure in writing through Savor. It will probably be messy and random and hopefully laced with smiles and laughter and honesty, from my heart to yours.

So, starting June 1st, the adventure will commence. 

If you would like to blog along, whether daily or weekly, I would love to have you for the journey; be sure to link back to the post. And if you are not a blogger, you can join along, too. Just leave your response and answers in the comments.

Here's to savoring the year.

I have heard people say gifts and talents change over the course of time and for some, perhaps that is true. But I have come to find that it is more like a funneling system. Putting in all the things you have tried or want to try and experimenting and seeking God through it all. Everything goes down but not everything fits. Not everything fits in to our lives, in our schedules or makes sense in this season. But at the core, the core of our being, are things we were designed to do that make us feel fully alive. We may suppress them or deny them or confuse them with something else that pays better is more conveniently located but they are still there. Just waiting. Waiting to spring to life. Waiting for birth.

I like to think that the roots start somewhere in childhood, intermingled in the day dreams of what you wanted to be when you grew up and in the ways you spent your time and the hobbies you pursued and the classes you looked most forward to or the things that came most naturally. The things that kept you up at night trying figure out or explore or work on. One more brush stroke. One more pitch. One more song. One more equation. One more mile. One more speech. One more. One more.

The words discovering and yourself , when put next to each other, have always seemed so silly, with an awkward connotation; as if you are a thing you have to explore and in the background the song Normal, from Nightmare on Puberty Street plays, questioning "Am I Normal?" It is here that you lose the best of yourself, taking yourself for granted because those things are easy and everyone can do them.

But the reality is,  not everyone can do that and those are the things that make you, uniquely you. And some discovering is in order. An uncovering and prodding and digging of sorts. It is coming to a place of truly understanding yourself. Coming to understand what makes your heart jump and what makes your eyes take a double look and what makes you feel most alive. What makes you pray harder and takes you out of yourself. What makes you feel closest to God and makes you depend on him more. Doing what you love and loving what you do. There is a reason. And for some, you may earn a paycheck from it and for some you will never see a penny and it may cost you everything but gives birth to life, truly living and that is worth it.

For me, writing is one of those things. It reminds me of all the words out there to play with that are at my fingertips. It is inspiration bouncing around thoughts and grabbing my phone to write them down before they fall off the edge. Writing is engrained somewhere in my DNA, next to ice cream lover and doodler and maker of sorts.

There are seasons of blank papers and others brimming to overflowing and it has not always been so clear how it makes me tick but that has been part of the process and prodding and fun of discovery. The light bulb turning on and God's guidance and confirmation. 

It is the breaks that so often give way to the birthing process. Breaks are good and essential but always a tell tale sign when you get back to it. It could be the realization the project / work / job / hobby / insert something else here, was not life giving or needs to go in another direction or something you truly missed. An absence in your soul.

And for me, with each key hit, it is as if rainbows and sunbeams are bursting from the key board and life is coming back in to existence, back in to the rhythm. Not always. But those days are the best. 

Here's to funneling and prodding and discovering. 

I was talking with my husband about big picture / calling / God things, my favorite topic of choice, when I told him I felt like I was beating a dead horse in regards to this writing thing. It is the same underlying message in each post, written differently in essence. But God keeps leading me to share. And how some days I do not want to give the time and effort to beat that dead horse.

I said it once. Isn't that enough? And that one post back there was pretty good, God; there is nothing like the Holy Spirit leading the writing but would rather not right now.

But my husband reminded me that is what God has called him to do as a pastor. Share the Gospel. A simple message that weaves throughout the centuries and has been told and shared in millions of ways since and we are all called to share it in some form or another.

Because God loves you, he sent his son, Jesus, to die on the cross for your sin. He rose on the third day and ascended up to heaven. Now, come follow him. Eternity is at your fingertips.

It is that simple.       

But simple things need simple illustrations like mustard seeds and fishes and prodigal sons to get the points across. To relate to the now.

And we need reminders of the truths because we forget. We need encouragement when the storms are raging.

And so for now, I sit and pray and offer some words as a sacrifice of praise. As an act of obedience and knowing that someone, somewhere needs some refreshment.

Because you are doing great things, my friend. God is using you in ways you never will imagine to accomplish things you will never comprehend in this lifetime.

Because God is a God of purpose and plans and the writer of the Big Picture. And with Him, nothing is dead. Nothing is too dried or withered or past expiration for God to restore and renew and refresh.

And that is worth pressing on and finishing the race. That is worth playing the part in this story because a time is coming when everyone will answer to him about how we spent our time and used our recourses. Jesus paid it all for me and for you and the least we can do is be obedient to his leading, which is for our own good. I know, imagine that.

Jesus Paid it All by Kristian Stanfill fits perfectly here. One of my favorites. Have a listen.

Jesus paid it all,

All to Him I owe;

Sin had left a crimson stain,

He washed it white as snow.

O Praise the one who paid my debt

And raised this life up from the dead.

Praying that whatever you are called to do, that you would do it all for the glory of God, despite afflictions or discouragement or qualifications. Praying you would see the bigger picture and that you would continue to be encouraged and have the endurance to keep doing what God has called you to do. 

Praying you would praise Jesus for paying your debt and that would be the motivation for you to fulfill your calling. Praying you would see glimpses of how God is using you in the here and now and that you would be able to see it in others, revealing to them their parts in the story.

Here's to endurance and keeping on. 

It was a rare occasion to have Jude up without Penny's presence in the middle of the afternoon, so we took full advantage and headed outside to the swing set. As we walked bare feet in the grass, Jude squatted down and pointed and shouted at the little thing moving about in the grass. Bugs are exciting and always something to talk about with him. It was a bee. Wandering from grass blade to grass blade, it was frantically jumping and running to and fro, trying to get somewhere. We watched as it did its little dance, sans flying. Each time it moved, it got a little faster and appeared more flustered.

Perhaps the little bee had used its stinger and could no longer fly. I know little about bees, besides their honey making - stinger carrying - flying abilities. But it is not every day that bees go hopping about in the grass. And the oddness was intriguing, especially to my one year old. It was not doing what it was made to do.

We were made for a purpose. We were made to do more than ordinary things. More than the nine to five and houses with white picket fences and college degrees and two children. We were made to do good works which were prepared in advance for us. We were made to have an intimate relationship with God and use our God given gifts to further his kingdom.

Thrive by Casting Crowns fits perfectly here. Have a listen. Feel free to have a little dance party, too. It is one we tend to turn up over here.

We know we were made for so much more

Than ordinary lives

It's time for us to more than just survive

We were made to thrive

There is so much relief and peace that stem from doing what God has made you to do. Not that it is easy in the slightest or comes fully natural but being in the will of God is sweet spot to be. Since I started writing, God has revealed himself in ways I could never fathom and it is truly an adventure and a dependence and trusting in him in ways I never needed to before.

When we are going against God's leading and making our own way, we will be working harder and getting more and more flustered. We will be building our kingdoms taking two steps forward and five back, even when things appear to be making progress. Is progress really progress when we are walking farther away from the will of God?

Praying that if you have yet to see what you were made to, what gifts you possess, the things that come easy to you but others tell you how hard it is, that you would seek God in the them. That you would see where God will take you with your skill set as you lay down your own expectations and will and start to align it with God's, despite whatever it may cost you.

Praying that you would search your heart to see what a life filled means. That you would look at the end of your life and see what you want to have accomplished and what that would entail. Praying that you would long for a life fully surrendered to Christ and impacting those around you. That it would be a life full of serving and truly loving people and loving God, for that is the purpose of life.

Here's to purposes and the bees. 

Usually my husband is the pancake flipper. Cooking breakfast (and any other meal) is one of his specialties, which works out perfectly with my affinity for home cooked meals. This day, however, I took on the role as pancake flipper and was on my way to pancake perfection when my three year old questioned my flipping procedure that she had witnessed so many times before.

Why do the pancakes have to be flipped?

They must cook on both sides, I responded.

But why do the pancakes have to be flipped?

The batter only cooks on one side, so the other side has to cook, too. For the other side to cook, it must be flipped over, I reasoned with her.

But why do the pancakes have to be flipped?

She obviously did not understand the concept, despite showing her the difference between the raw side and the cooked side. She just saw the flipping. And something about the flipping intrigued her, so much so she could not see past it this particular morning. After the tenth time, I assured her I just had to do it.

 Why?

This word is intriguing. So much can come out of this three letter word. Why did he do that? Why did she have to go there? It can take you in to an analysis overload where questions outweigh reason and slightest look has you wrestling,

Why has been rolling around in my head lately. Why was the tree of knowledge in the middle of the garden? Why was sin allowed to enter our bodies? And why is the wage of sin death? Why the family unit comes after the fall of man?

Somewhere, someone has some theological answers with some sort of biblical backing. But I like to think of some fun reasons, too. And in the wonder and questioning and lack of understanding, God reminds me to be still (Psalm 46:10). To praise him because I do not understand because I was not created to know everything.

He knows the path of thunder and shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb and made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness and fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place and said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’? (Job 38).

Because he is God. He knows. He is ways are not our ways. We do not understand why the flipping and cooking occur though we watch it before our eyes as the minutes turn to hours and days pass by.

God Moves in Mysterious Ways by Jeremy Riddle fits neatly here. Have a listen.

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform.

He plants His footsteps in the sea

And rides upon the storm.

Praying that your whys or hows or whens would draw you nearer to God and that you would praise the Creator as you learn to trust him. That you would see glimpses of the bigger picture and stand in awe at the works of his hands. Praying that you would see the importance of the role that you play in His piece and how you have been created for a specific purpose (Ephesians 2:10).

Here's to questions that lead to worship and praise and admiration. 

Lemon is typically a flavor that you either love or cannot stand. For me, it is one of my favorite flavors  and its yellow rind has worked its way in to my favorite color category over the past few years because of its fun demeanor.

A sweet friend with a lemon tree brings them by for me when they are in season and the possibilities become endless. Lemon bars. Lemon meringue pie. Lemonade. A little lemon slice to perk up ice water - it's like a little burst of sunshine in a cup. 

The old adage, when life gives you lemons, seems appropriate to add here. It tends to have a negative connotation to it. Like lemons are a bad thing. Oh man, you got lemons again? Guess you better make some lemonade. It states things are not going as planned. There is a pot hole in the road or a detour or broken bridge ahead. And you now, you are forced in to juicing some lemons. You have an unplanned interruption and encouraged to make something out of the bad and ugly and unwanted in to something desirable and sweet and quenching. You have a choice - to keep the lemons as they are or make something with them.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

God is always working out the best for those who love him. He is always providing a way out and a solid foundation to stand, you just have to see it. He is working out the suffering for his good.

Homemade lemonade is a favorite beverage in our home. The key to making it perfect is melting the sugar in a pot of boiling water, eliminating any floating sugar particles, and then mixing it all together with the rest of the water and lemon juice, making sure not to add too much sugar as to over sweeten but just enough to still have a little kick. Just enough sweetness to accompany the sour.

Life is like that. You need just enough sweetness to accompany the sourness that comes your way. Smiles to overshadow the frowns. Compliments to overcome the putdowns. Surprises to outweigh the let downs. And for God to provide the sugar. 

This is where prayer comes in and resources. Prayer asking God to open your eyes to see the sugar through the situation. Through the illness or lay off or temper tantrum or traffic or foreclosure. Through the surgery or therapy. And to see the resources around you. The little grains of sugar and the overflowing spring of water.

Praying that whatever seems like lemons would be made into another testimony of God's faithfulness. Praying that your interruptions and detours would be seen as opportunities. That you would see God's favor resting on you throughout the situation in ways only he can work. Praying that you would see God's provision and resources around you and that you would have the wisdom to use them in accordance with his will.

Praying that you would drink in the goodness of God's promises, knowing that everything works together for those who are called according to his purposes.

Here's to lemons and prayers.  

Throughout high school I loved Jones Soda. The tasty flavors along with random pictures on the label and fun little fortunes on the bottoms of the recaps won my little heart. One lunch, during my gypsy-esque days, my fortune read: good luck will knock on your door. A well meaning friend optimistically responded that it meant I would soon have home with a door to knock on.

I have moved more times than I have toes and fingers to count. The longest residence in the past 15 years was at our previous address where we resided for two and a half years, which we are approaching at our current. When we first moved here, I remember speaking with my husband about the lack of that homey feeling. Since the celebrating of holidays and birthdays and adding another baby, the homey feeling has made its way here, too. Like it eventually does.

Residency and longevity and stability that an address provides is a unique thing. It gives a place to put your earthly treasures and display photos of memories past and makes a gathering spot for friends and family to congregate to make more. 

Jesus responds to a man who says he will follow him wherever he goes with:

Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man has no place to lay his head (Luke 9:58).

Once Jesus began his ministry, he did not have a home. He took the stance of a homeless man. He walked and taught and trusted God for a place to sleep. There is a lot of beauty in this aspect of his ministry. He did not need to rely on an address or possessions because he was involved in God's work and will for his life. His trust in God was so much so that he did not need to know where he would lay his head at the end of each day - God would provide.

Perhaps this person valued their comfy, safe life with their things and address. Perhaps Jesus was challenging the very thing that was a stumbling block for him, like he did with the rich young ruler (Luke 18:18-30). Following Jesus is never how we picture it. We would never imagine the good things that he has planned for us accompanied by the hard things we face, which are for our benefit - used to refine us.

Here's a little song about Jesus' lack of a home redone by Bethany Dillon. Fun lyrics - the wife part is interesting since he did not come for that - but fun none the less. Have a listen.

Birds have nests, foxes have dens

But the hope of the whole world rests

On the shoulders of a homeless man

Praying that comfort would subside and that trusting and following Jesus would be your main focus. Praying that you would not grow so comfy that you forget to look outside of your home to those of your neighbors. Praying that love and compassion and hospitality would reside in your home.

Praying that thanksgiving and gratitude for your home would dwell constantly in your heart and that you would follow God's leading in how to use it for his glory. Praying that your eyes would be opened to any stumbling blocks that are in view and that you would have victory over them through Jesus.

Here's to homes and comfort. 

As I sit here and write, my lack of taste is evident. I have been dreaming about a pazooki since my husband brought home vanilla ice cream midweek but my lack of taste makes it all irrelevant. What is a gooey, half baked chocolate chip cookie, topped with melting ice cream, when you cannot taste it? Colds are the current state of our home. We started the week prior with the stomach flu and moved on to colds this past week but God has been so merciful throughout it all. We have been resting and resting and waiting for our health to return, which is just what God has been teaching each new day.

Taste is a vast part of life. It is an experience that weaves itself in to memories. A warm cherry pie may take you back to childhood and the kitchen of your grandmother or a summer picnic. Taste may drive you to fill your full tummy with yet another sweet delight or an extra scoop of mashed potatoes. Foods are longed for because of their saltiness or sweetness. But when taste buds are out of sorts, the same desired food means nothing despite its appealing lure.

Taste and see that the Lord is good. Psalm 34:8

Have you tasted God's goodness? Truly savored the forgiving grace of God? The insurmountable blessings all around you? The joy. The peace. The love. The patience. The kindness. The faithfulness. The gentleness. The self control. Have you undeniably experienced God?

When you experience the goodness of God, you are not the same. Tasting God is more than an alter call or hand raise or prayer. It is a change of heart and true forgiveness to those who have wronged you. It is an act of faith and quieting of yourself. It is learning to trust. It is waiting and resting and restoration. It involves sacrifice. It touches every part of your body, healing as it moves.

For some, God reveals himself in dramatic ways and meets you with blinding bright lights and for others it is a one on one encounter. From there, you are left with an experience you cannot deny but may not know what to do with. And you go about your day as usual.

To begin to acknowledge the goodness of God is similar to healing from a cold. It does not happen overnight. It takes time. It requires waiting. Resting is essential and listening to the advice of those who have ears that hear.

Praying that your senses would be opened to experiencing God and that the goodness would overflow to others, as well. Praying that you would quiet your heart and schedule to truly bask in the presence of God because busy and overcommitted ears are hardly open to hear.

Praying that if you have made a commitment to follow Christ that it would be more than a decision but an ongoing relationship, ever growing.

Here's to tasting and seeing.