Filled to Hunger On...

I am hungry. In a soul-deep, pressing-on-to-reach-sort of way.
I have been for some time... 16 years to be exact;
Ever since The Living Father grabbed a hold of my heart and soul, but I am only just recently learning to know this hunger for what it is, and for where it comes from, and for where it takes me.

~{Jesus.}~

from Him, for Him, through Him, and to Him....

Sometimes this hunger has tricked me into feeling and believing that I lack something, that God has forgotten me or is displeased with me. 

Because of Jesus, this will never be true!

Other times, I have foolishly tried to trick the hunger away by turning to something of God's making rather than to His presence. 

Those wells always run empty and dry! 

It is this new thing I am finding, learning and stretching my muscles into...
and then re-finding, re-learning, and re-stretching my soul around...

...that in the meeting up of my own limitations and the way they leave me desperate for more of Him,

this is where Jesus fills.

One day last week, the churnings of this hunger in my soul literally drove me out my back door.
I needed to get quiet and still and alone with Him,
{because sometimes you have to leave a place to refill yourself for it.}

The kiddos were at school.
There was plenty of quiet and still and alone in the house, but something deep in my heart wanted to be where there was nothing between the top of my head and the great sky dome of His creation.

That sky dome was heavy with gray clouds and releasing a gentle mist, so I pulled on a rain jacket and stuffed my pocket with camera, journal and pen.

{essentials}

I had decided on the path less chosen across the fields behind our home, and mud from recent rain was sucking at my boots.
I could feel my heart settling into each soggy step as the busy stuff of daily life stilled behind me.

I thought about the hunger I was feeling and about where it was taking me.
I thought about how deeply I desire for more of Him to fill more of my doing, saying, being, and becoming with each passing day.
I so very much long for more of my anything to be filled with more of His everything!

I talked to Him about this.

I asked Him about being out in that muddy drizzly field together.
I looked for His hand, because I knew I would see His voice all over everything around me.

It was there as I took in the wild prairie grasses and flowers, some bravely holding onto their color, most bowing over with the onset of Fall's brown.

It was there in the trees with leaves still green but unable to hide the tell-tale spots of mold that will soon advance their change into a bright display.

It was on the thistles - some taller than I am- clutching tightly to their clusters of seeds which will break free and scatter on the harvest wind to next year's growing spot.

All of this emptying to be filled, this drying-out death to provide fresh new life after Winter passes.

I started to see again; was reminded afresh, to press into my soul-hunger, not seeking to satiate it, but allowing it's rhythms of seeking and filling to pull me deeper and deeper into His likeness.

I saw anew that I am filled up, not in the filling itself, but in the hungering for more, because it is the very nature of my created purpose to find satisfaction in a Limitless, All-Glorious God.

I was made for, and redeemed to, this glorious tension;
to be always both perfectly filled and yet hungering for more of Him!

And this is where it was that day in a muddy field walk; where it is today, and will be tomorrow.

In the wanting, the needing, the leaning in for more of Him,
this is where the feast of His presence is received!

and I am filled to hunger on....

Psalm 16::2
"I say to the Lord, 'You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you."

John 6:57-58
"As the Living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven...
Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever."

The Soul's Kalidescope::identity & season::

This morning I dropped my three kiddos of at school, trailing each one in for the annual desk photo, rushing back out before anyone saw my tears. This was the first 1st day of school that I drove home with an empty car. 

I settled in at our life-scratched table and read the latest email update on friends who are on day 12 of their 15 yr old's fight against Leukemia. 

Checking up on a sweet family praying for healing of their hubby/daddy's brain cancer, I saw their strong faith in smiling faces. 

Facebook shows radiant images of a sweet couple that covenanted marriage love yesterday.

Another happy shot, this one of a beautiful sweet momma whose body stretches tight over waiting and readiness and anticipation. 

A poster with running feet and information about our upcoming community service project, and I'm reminded to stop and pray for this community we're seeking to love. 

All of these snapshots of real life moving, pulsing, and converging in with where my heart has been pondering and praying lately. 

There was this time when I took a decorated cardboard cylinder in my hand, holding it to my right eye and shutting the other so that the only light I see was channeled through the tube that I was twisting slowly.

The bits of colored glass inside shifted and fell into new arrangements with each turn, reflecting off mirrors within to create different arrangements of pretty design, one after another. 

We were standing in a Children's gift shop nestled into a shopping mall.  It was a simple kaleidoscope I held in my hands, a simplicity that fascinated my soul with a visual image that God used to show me His love and tender leading. 

Identity and Season:

Two parts of my soul; separate in their essence, but nested together inseparablely in their presence. 

Where I engage with one, I engage with the other, yet they are not the same. 

The one always changing, the other unchanging; both always connected, and if engaged with in truth, together they equal glory and big joy!

I know this because Abba has been tenderly teaching me; lifting the cylinders to my soul's eye and teaching me to see the turn....

Like the twisting and turning of a kaleidoscope, my seasons shift with ebb and flow, and are frequently affected by circumstances very much outside of my control. 

As God does His perfect ordaining thing over my life, He turns the cylinder of circumstance, people, situations, needs, and things are constantly shifting, falling, and resorting into a new season. 

Little pieces of colored glass, emptying, but never falling out; creating new spaces and molding themselves into new patterns but always remaining present within the view; the truths of my identity. This stuff of who and what I am; 

who and what I am always becoming. 

These are not hindered, removed or destroyed by the turning changes in circumstance, emotion, or knowledge. They are truths dictated by One beyond myself, untouchable, going with me wherever I go, and in whatever I do. 

To enjoy a kaleidoscope fully, I must twist the nested tubes and watch the pieces fall into a new beauty, and then twist again.

My healthy, peaceful, and hope-filled soul; my gospel-charged soul, must know my identity, and I must know my season. 

I must allow these two to nest and turn with the unfolding of life. 

I must give myself the freedom to acknowledge a season's hard, fruitfulness, struggle, or success without fear because I knows that while the pieces shift together in new ways, 

my identity stays secure. 

Two mornings ago, I sat in an early quiet before the house woke, and scratched out a list. 

Ephesians was open in front of me, the first 14 verses piling into my heart and out through my pen in a long gathering of truths about who I am in Christ.  

I had limped to this place seeking and asking for help. 

I felt dry and tired and so very much not enough for what seemed to be before me. 

I still wasn't sure I had processed all that has already come and gone, not to mention what is right under my feet, as my life kaleidoscope feels to be turning at break-neck speeds. 

A church change, ministry change, revival of focus... wonderful and so very vulnerable. 

An unexpected personal grieving as my momma status moved {overnight} from the little years to the family years...so much to miss and treasure up. 

The process of positioning ourselves to simplify in housing investment/location... uprooting, waiting, and just plain old hard work. 

Our oldest man-child's move into new struggles as his little self takes on the whirling roller-coaster of growing up... embracing a new dependence in parenting with it's death to self.

Leaning into this particular school year with it's changes for me as a SAHM.... alone and feeling out new boundaries.

All of these little pieces of my unchanging identity falling into new places, leaving new spaces and the old familiar behind. 

It can all be such a scary mess...

Abba drew me to bring all of my reshaping discomfort to Him and ask one simple question:

"Remind me of who I am in You?" 

As my scribbles began to fill up a journal page, my heart grabbed with reminder of that moment in the children's gift shop nestled into a shopping mall....cheap cardboard and plastic in my hand, head upturned to the light over the checkout counter....twisting with my hands, watching the patterns merge, fall and empty into new beauty. 

I realized that my weariness came from an exchange that was happening in my soul; the clinging to season for identity. 

Trying to reach and to grab at aspects of old passing away seasons as though they were part of my identity; fearing that to see them empty out into something new, I would see myself empty out into nothing. 

Isn't this how it so often goes with us?

We take the callings we're given, and so pour ourselves into them that we begin to believe that they are the measure of who we are. 

We grab at season, rather than identity, for a validation-flag to wave, and oh the big freak-out when we're asked to lay it down. 

Reaching into a kaleidoscope and trying to hold a few colored beads in place as it turns will only cause the new pattern to break and eventually jam. 

All beauty stunted and lost. 

Refusing to let the nested cylinders and mirrors turn at all might leave me comfortable, but I would be spiritually stunted and anemic. 

I will not fear new empty spaces, 

or the resorting of my life's pieces.  

The new pattern promises to be more beautiful than the last, and the next even more so, as He moves me from one degree of glory to the next. 

My seasons turn, twist, and resort into new views...

sometimes surprisingly complex, 

sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, always -every single one- 

defined by His grace and love.

I might have to squint and let Him readjust my perspective.

I might fight and balk against the turn until He gently releases my grip,

but when He does, 

{and Praise Jesus HE DOES}

all the pieces, the anchors of my soul, 

are always there:

chosen, 

called, 

held, 

beloved, 

fully known, 

accepted, 

redeemed, 

forgiven, 

eternal, 

hope-filled, 

guaranteed, 

precious, 

rich in grace, 

forever and ever...

I put down my pen on that quiet morning.

My soul-kaleidoscope was back in play with a renewed excitement and courage to embrace the whirling colors...

And I knew then it's about the light....

always The Light; 

shining down through the twisting cylinders causing the colors of His love over me to dance in the beautiful whirl of this life, and after that, there will be Jesus forever!!! 

I can just hold it all up to The Light and watch His Glory cascade! 

Bright and Rich::a recipe post::

Fresh apricots are in season and well priced at the grocery...

Run, don't walk to toss together this delicious salad for a lunch with friends, a refreshing Summer supper, or just to nibble on yourself all. day. long. 

Because you WILL want to!!! 

Ingredients:

-fresh greens. any mix/type, but the darker, the better. 

-purple cabbage for color and crunch.

-thinly sliced fresh apricots.

-toasted {in butter} sliced almonds. 

Dressing: 

Do you have a favorite homemade vinagerette? Use that. 

Or mix equal parts light olive oil and rice wine vinager. 

Add a tbsp brown sugar and healthy dose fresh ground pepper. 

Drizzle, Toss and Savor.....YUM. 

*this salad can easily become a light meal by adding strips of grilled chicken and pairing with fresh bread or rolls.* 

 

Hard Stuff, Mosaics, {and Where I've Been Found}

The week has been hard. 

The Psalmist counted up enemies and exclaimed, "oh Lord how many have risen against me…"

I have counted up the hard things of this week with the same exclamation but without a cave to hide in.

That has been okay. 

I have not needed a cave for hiding. I have not needed to hide at all. 

I have needed to be found. 

National news has flooded with it; more secret things being made public {as will all secret things one day be made}, but in this story, the home of my story has been hit, memories unleashed, and wounds scraped up and raw once again.

I read in my newsfeed of a friend whose son has burns on his legs.

She has had to learn the hard process of dressing his wounds; reopening and cleansing that they might be freshly bandaged.

It is what must be done for his healing.

This is what must be done in my soul;

for my healing.

It hurts. 

He is tender. 

There has been other hard in this week.

A watching and yearning together with my dear beautiful wonderful man.

Seeing his faith stretch and pull strong. Feeling my own in tandem with his. 

Sometimes even the most clear and anticipated of horizons can stretch on into the place of fuzzy wonder and seeming- impossibility.

The corners where our rigorous investment meet up with our openhanded trust in a sovereign God.

These corners can hold deep pockets of longing and desire.

When a door stands before us, we can see our heavenly father's hand upon the knob, and we wait… 

Does he intend to open it to us? 

Or does his steadfast faithfulness require it's close?

We wait to see... 

And sometimes the wait hurts.

Sometimes it all hurts and it's all for the healing. 

{ever feel this, dear reader?}

To be at once both painfully shattered and perfectly found. 

A soul mosaic. 

In the beautiful introductions to summer weather, iced tea and sunny walks – 

I have been found.

In the faces, sticky and tan, of my people-

I have been found.

In the early-morning places of his word – trutting alongside the Psalmist-

I have been found. 

In the sharing of closest words, tears, laughter, and all the makings of love with my Steve-

I have been found.

In voices of wisdom and understanding – voices which validate and speak redemption-

I have been found.

In the friend, with her own desperate hard, who took my heart on a hard morning and helped me sift it for a re-bandaging in hope-

I have been found.

There has never been a moment, or thought, in which He has not known exactly where to find me; 

all of my zillion shattered pieces so rugged and dirty; captured for a mosaic of His goodness!!! 

And this is where the hard stuff gets treasured up.... In the being found! 

Listen to this song. 

Find Him finding you in it's message of hope! 

http://youtu.be/igVg4mSAu-A

Happy Mosaic Weekend

Summer's First Savory Sips::{a recipe}

It's here with all of it's newly-arrived awkward fits and bursts. 

Warm breezes, sweat-inducing sun rays, and bold rain showers. 

Although the calendar has not yet officially proclaimed it, the full leafy trees and fast growing lawns induce my belief that Summer must be welcomed. 

I've been celebrating with a daily refresher in my tall straw tumbler; a perfect pairing of healthy flavor and some slow moments in the afternoon before post-school busyness begins. 

To make: 

-Brew a favorite tea bag in 12oz of boiling water. {I really favor Good Earth's Mango brew, but today needed the caffeine from a favorite black tea.}

-Add a handful {fistful} of fresh berries WITH the hot water. This allows them to soak and soften; releasing their flavors. 

Allow this to brew extra long as you will be adding to ice later.

-Fill your tumbler 3/4 full with ice cubes. {remember to use glass or stainless steel if adding an EO!}

-Drop 2-3 drops of an EO. {think about pairing your citrus oils with your berry choice. {ie blueberry/lemon or raspberry/wild orange etc}. 

-Finally discard the tea bag and pour brewed tea and berries over ice. 

-Let your drink chill for a few moments and enjoy! 

This recipe can be made in the morning then refrigerated for a quick grab later in the day.

Also consider multiplying by 4 or 6 and fill a spouted jug with refreshment for the whole family on a hot Summer day. 

Great for kids and friends on the deck or patio! 

Enjoy! 

Mother's Day::to the one it hurts:: {beauty in the rocks}

To the one who hurts on this day!

My heart is full for you; full of love, 

full of esteem, 

full of deep deep gratefulness!

I know you're hurting, 

remembering ---wondering...

It's arrived on advertisements in your mail, screamed from the television, played itself out between your pandora songs.
This vicious reminder that scrapes up against your wounds.

It looks at you from your calendar, sounds on the lips of your co-workers and friends, rides the waves of pinterest and facebook posts right into the aching, freshly opened chasms of your soul...

Mother's Day.

This day of pictures posted, flowers received, and grand greetings in the hallways of church...

It must feel so very daunting and painful, and does anyone really see and know?
Do the ones who do know look the other way or offer awkwardly empty assurances?
Do you wonder if by next year....?
Do you recall wondering that a year ago?

I am so very sorry, dear friend...

I have a mother who loves me and continues to move towards me.
I  have children; three littles in arm, and two in heaven.
Hear me speak this -
there are whole canyons of pain in your world that I have little experience with
and small ability to imagine, 

but I do see you.
I have experienced YOU!
I know that this day hurts you. 

I want you to know that, and there is something else I want you to know too.

I celebrate YOU - yes you - as the sweet, beautiful, mothering woman that you are!

Mothering was created by God.
Mother's Day was not.

The design to mother was given by God to a woman
before a baby ever breathed air upon this earth.

A child does not make a woman a mother.
The woman, through her mothering, makes the child her's.

Mothering is something we learn to chose,
not something we achieve biologically...

When you carry life-giving hope, tend the helpless,
correct the erring, and instruct the naive...

When you feed the hungry, heal hurts, hold the crying, and calm another's fears....

When you pray soul-deep-groaning prayers for another...

When you speak of your deep longing to see all of your life-laid-down-service culminate in the matured and prepared independance of those you have loved....

This is the real mothering.
This is the noble glory business...tending to what is young while gently led by The Shepherd.
He sees you there, faithfully working your skills into the reflection of His image,
and He delights over you!
I can just hear His heart say,
"There she is, my child, recreating her faith, hope, and love into the lives of others.
Pouring out her heart and soul for their good.
Through her sacrifice, in a thousand unseen ways, my life flows through her.
Exactly what I was getting at with, 

'be fruitful and multiply'."

So for you, my friend whose arms remain empty; the phone silent; the nursery still waiting...

For you, my friend, who remembers on this day littles that warmed your womb but never drew breath...

For you, my friend, whose mother was wonderful and is now gone.

For you, my friend, whose dreams of babies stretch far beyond the horizon of your singleness...

For you, my friend, whose child is close but with a heart hard and far...

For you, my friend, whose mother chose to abandon you, or attack you, or ignore you...

For you, my friend, who aches and longs and remembers and wonders on this day...

...on this day

HOLD onto your hope.
SEE the loves all around you.
DRAW them tight and give life.
KNOW His deep pleasure over you!

Lean into the bold and messy business of mothering others from the soul...
of receiving comfort and nurture from those who mother well when your's does not.

The forces that pull you hard with longing come from the One who meets you with the blessings you crave because mothering is His design,  

and He always blesses His design.

May you know on this Mother's Day, and every day, a beautiful purpose and arching-upward comfort.

To the one who hurts on this day, 

see and taste His glory in you-

Like bright soft beauty growing up between hard rocks.

I celebrate YOU, amazing mothering women! 

The Gift of a Crossroad

To have been brought to a junction;

the path beneath one's feet dividing; stretching away in ribbons of hidden possibility on both the right and the left. 

One path must be, will be, taken, but the choice of which lies with a Higher Knowing. 

It will not be forced even if it could be, for to know such a loving Abba can only be to simply follow in sheer trust. 

There is a hidden gift there at the crossroad, for as the feet stand poised in the stillness of waiting, the heart grows strong and ready.

It will not be in the path taken, either right or left, where deep joy will be found, but in the One who will be followed.

In the deep knowing, and even deeper, being known; the simple yet profound rhythm of placing footsteps alongside his leading Presence will be the place where glory arcs high, and it is the crossroad's wait which brings the soul to reach for all of this. 

Right there where the uncertainty holds tight, but his special knowing Presence holds tighter, it all grows to be so very sweet; 

a gift of His love received there in the stillness of a crossroad.