encouragement

Doing the Beautiful

/ amylynw / 2 Comments

Between the lines… what really happens?  More than I can write about.  I want these writings to be something my children can look back on and see… love… laugh… learn… remember.  This month has been full to the brim with adventures, excitement, ordinary happenings and trying ordeals.  Some days have felt full.  Others have felt more like everything has broken all around me and what was once beautiful is being spilled onto the floor and wasted.  But more on that later.

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Sometimes I feel like I’m looking in a mirror when I glance up at this girl.  She’s eye-level with me now.  When did this happen?

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Sometimes I am looking in the mirror.  Yes, I was rather grossed out to see there was enough dried-on toothpaste flung onto our bathroom mirror for someone to play tic-tac-toe on it.  Yes, I took a picture.  Because I know this aberration will not be seen when these kids have flown the coop and I have all day long to polish my bathroom mirrors.  That is what I’ll be doing, right?

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This guy’s blue eyes fill a special place in my heart.  They are the first to open in the morning.  They are tender with tears when he misses his little sister visiting Grandma.

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Way back on January 5th, we were woken up with rustling feet and excited voices.  Big sister pulled everyone’s signatures and proudly presented this card to us.  Then littlest sister proceeded to eat the breakfast I was served in bed.  It was a special morning, marking eleven years married to the love of my life.

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Before the leg was hurt, everyone enjoyed watching Daddy crank out some moves on his blades.

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Don’t be fooled by the princess helmet, polka-dot pants and Mary Jane shoes underneath those plastic fisher price wheels.

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This girl can bust out some moves of her own!

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Sometimes I have helpers in the kitchen.  Sometimes an egg beater covered in vanilla pudding is the trick to stopping the evening-blues that tend to hit sweet two-year-old girls.

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Often there are hand stands, flips, break-dances, and other movements thumping the floor.

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After our December journeys, our van really did look that bad.  Not a speck of shine.  Since we had exactly enough money for a car-wash, we treated our van to a little pampering.  I’m not sure who was more excited: the kids or I.  Betty was in awe and when we exited the wash and kept saying, Again!  Again!

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Five days a week, there is school.  I relish the one-on-one times.  Jack is like an airplane who has stopped its taxi only to get faster until its airborne.  He is flying over obstacles, and getting better and better at sticking to a hard task until it’s finished.  The new camouflage overalls given to him recently have been a huge hit.

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Other spaces in my day find more messes.  More brokenness.  More being spilled out.  Sometimes I react like Jesus’ disciples did to the woman who broke a very expensive jar of perfume with which to anoint Jesus’ head:  Why this waste, Lord?  The time spent cleaning up, making beautiful, or saving for something special.  Then, disaster, messiness, shattered glass.  What’s the point?

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I hear Jesus speak in return to my disgust, my wondering, my anger.  You have done a good work for me…  You have done what you could.

Jesus never wastes trials.  Our perspective is so temporal.  It sees the shards.  He sees the end.

The ultimate brokenness was for you and for me.  He hung, perfect and sinless, bleeding and broken on a wooden cross.  More pain than shattered glass or ruined hopes.  In His brokenness, He crushed through the worst barrier separating us from God: sin.  While his mother wept and wondered at this loss, this waste of a perfect life… God saw the end.  He saw what we get to see now!  Resurrection power poured out on all who believe.  Forgiveness of sins.  Eternal life.  All because of brokenness.

Nothing we are going through is a waste.  He redeems, sweeps up broken pieces, restores, heals, forgives, and makes beautiful that which we thought was defective.  He turns what we think is worthless into something of unimaginable value.

So I will keep on doing what is before me.  What I can do.  I will give Him my best, my cracked, empty self.  Jesus says when we do this, we have done a beautiful thing for Him. (Mark 14:6)

Falling in With Joy

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Have you ever fallen into something terrible?  Generally speaking, I don’t tend to fall into pits or deep crevices, but I do sometimes fall into trials.  James said this would happen if you’re a Christ-follower.  We don’t go looking for trials.  We don’t try to get ourselves into trouble.  We fall into it.  Like last Sunday night: I never saw it coming.

Now we have a choice once we’ve fallen in.  Consider anger.  What does this benefit?  Bitterness toward God starts to grow.  Mistrust in His ways and character.  Consider depression.  Where would that lead?  A despondent spirit, full of myself, my feelings, my pity.  The third option is what James tells us to do when we’ve gone in deep.

Consider joy.  Not just a dash of joy, either.  All joy.  Pure joy.  Nothing but joy.  Opportunity for great joy.  Full of joy.  Sheer joy.  Exceeding joy.  We’re fortunate.  We should be happy.  Trials are  occasions for joy.  

Wow.  Unlike the other non-benefits to responding otherwise, choosing joy brings a great reward. The testing of our faith produces patience, which leads to perfection, or complete maturity.  Basically, we grow up when we go through trials.  Our endurance has a chance to grow.  We’re told by James to let it grow.  Don’t hinder endurance muscles by plopping down on the couch and yelling, “Why?  Why?”  Another version says, Learn well to wait so you will be strong and complete and in need of nothing.

This week has been a steady dose of waiting.  Plenty of opportunity to learn well.  You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.

Matthew’s leg continues to heal slowly.  It’s a stubborn infection, needing much rest.  For my many-mile-loving-hard-working-only-stopping-to-sleep kind of guy, this has been a huge faith and endurance test.  I think running one-hundred miles was easier for him than lying down all day has been.  Just like when you’ve been lifting weights for a while and someone looks at you, tilts their head and says, “You look stronger!” I can see faith muscles starting to show.  Let it grow.  Medical or otherwise, trials are just plain hard.  That is why we don’t go looking for them.  We fall into them, and yet we’re not alone.  As Isaiah 33:6 says, He is your constant source of stability; He abundantly provides safety and great wisdom; He gives all this to those who fear Him.

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Year of Whimsy

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

All week, I’ve been pondering my word for the year.  I used to do this regularly.  One year it was the year of “miracles”.  That was the same year our Elsie was born.  We were told there was a good possibility we wouldn’t be able to have more children because of the medicine Matthew was taking.  Miracle indeed.

This year I think we’ve nailed down the word.  Whimsy.  It means: Extravagant.  Excessively playful.  Spontaneous.  Unpredictable.  It seems to define my life right now.  I don’t like the negative connotations like, “superficial, careless, unstable and  wayward.”  However, though life is full of whimsy, God is full of the constancy, dependability and steadiness I lack.  Though He is steadfast, He brings unpredictable events into our lives.  He is constant, yet loves spontaneous action.  Through changes, He remains dependable.

Our year of whimsy actually stems from a book Matthew and I just finished reading.  It is called Love Does, by Bob Goff.  Hands down, one of the best books I’ve ever read.  It drips of unpredictable and crazy stories, steadied by the unflinching action of love behind it all.  It’s one of those books you take everywhere, peruse it at a red light, read excerpts to your friends but end up reading entire chapters instead.  Whimsy can be looked at as being a bit odd.  I often feel this way, doing things a little differently, living my own dream, not wanting to be typical.  Sometimes I feel like a girl wearing a red dress at a black and white party.  But that’s ok, and I know God has different styles of writing our stories.  What I do or don’t do are not intended as judgement on anyone else’s actions.  Things I like or don’t like is not intended to be criticisms for what you may enjoy. What He pens for me will be very different from what He pens for you.  The way we raise our kids, spend our money, and use our time is both based on what the Bible says, and also how the Holy Spirit whispers in our individual ears.

I’ve never been very typical.  I don’t like epidurals, car payments, cable, video games, fast food, or makeup.  I wear clothes I’ve had for ten years, and buy a brand new outfit maybe once a year.  I use pencils until the led is the same size as the eraser.  I don’t know what it’s like to drive a new car or have matching furniture.  I’ve never been to college, and never gotten drunk.  I’m not sure what certain swear words mean.  I empty out my vacuum bags by hand until they fall apart, because I see no need to buy new ones when they get full.  Sometimes we eat expired food, because it’s what we have and it won’t kill us.  I’ve touched African soil and its dirt is ingrained on my soul.  I’ve lived and swum in the Caribbean with sea urchins an inch from my skin.  I’ve kissed and made love to one man alone, and have been captivated again and again by his love and loyalty.  Our bank account has said $.03 balance, and we’ve gotten down on our knees and prayed.  Our account has said $10,000 balance, and we’ve gotten down on our knees and praised.  Twelve times a home has been miraculously provided for our family, at just the perfect time, in just the perfect place.  A few times we have tried to walk the expected road that seems most practical and traveled.  Yet the burdens and turmoil which have met us along the way have never been worth the trying.  It is in the unexpected, less traveled paths where we have found the most peace and joy.  Sometimes we are weary with waiting, tired of hacking through the underbrush.  I raise up my whiny cup of tears and complaint, wishing for an easier way.  The road with no aches, no pains, no oddities, and clear steps from here until eternity.  But the path through the fog is most sure, because the step before me is always as clear as it needs to be.  I’m much more likely to grip the strong hands of the Man in the boat, when the water is rough, than when it is calm.

So I’m looking forward to this year of whimsy.  Full of thankfulness, I pray it brings glory to the Author of my story and Perfecter of my faith.
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Got Baking Soda?

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This week has been what I would call a baking soda week.  Sometimes when you’re eating a really delicious cookie, all of a sudden you bite down on a mouthful of baking soda.  No matter how marvelous that cookie tasted one moment ago, even the memory of it is temporarily spoiled by that one bitter bite.  Friday started it off.  We excitedly took a train into the city and blissfully enjoyed a day with the three older kids, while Grandma watched the younger two.
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We saw the light show at Macy’s, then headed to the Franklin Institute where Nadine and I saw the Titanic exhibit, while the boys watched the Hobbit. 2012-12-13
Elijah got to blow up a balloon with fire.  He was a great sport during the chemistry class.
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We hopped on buses, took tons of pictures, and enjoyed every second.
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I noticed a flag at half-mast, but since we are disconnected while out and about, I had no idea what had been happening in CT while we happily rode the train.  It was a bitter bite to swallow once I read the news that night.

Then Sunday rolled around, and I excitedly got my special Christmas outfit on, threw clothes on the kids that hopefully weren’t too torn or stained (it’s inevitable on Sunday mornings that these articles of clothing surface the most) and Matthew made me a nice big cup of hot tea to take in the car.  We had five minutes to get to church since the kids were singing, and as we happily started to pull away from the curb, what would happen?  Why, of course: the handle of my mug broke completely off and the entire cup of scalding tea (now it is no longer hot, it is scalding) spilled all over my specially-picked-out dress.  The tears immediately sprung, no, gushed out of my eyes.  I took my handle-less mug, yanked open the van door, slammed it (yes, I struggle with this even still), stomped up to the front porch crying… then stomped back down the stairs and sort-of intelligibly told Matt to get the kids to church on time and come back and get me.

That was really bitter on a morning that started off so incredibly sweet.  However, I am blessed to own more than one outfit, and so thankfully was able to still go to church, albeit late, and hear our children sing their sweet hearts out for Jesus.  The bitterness faded.

Then all of a sudden we were plunged into the week before Christmas.  How did this happen?  I’m loving the late-night sewing sessions, but the time is really going too fast for my liking.  I had a very bitter moment today when the long hours of Christmas preparations were “spoiled” after somebody saw my secret stash of presents.  Something about it just got to me so much that every single last ounce of sweetness turned into a bitter, unable-to-swallow pill.  I lost it.  The snotty mess that I was turned into even more of a mess when I experienced yet again the deep forgiveness children offer to their sinful parents.  God has quite a way of reflecting His grace through our kids.

God is actually in the business of turning bitter into sweet.  It’s not His purpose for our lives to be bitter and full of despondency   In Exodus 15, when the Israelites came to the bitter waters of Marah, God provided a way to sweeten the water and meet their need.  He also causes beauty to rise from ashes and mourning to turn into dancing.  His specialty is turning what others meant for evil, into good.  So often we focus in on that one bitter bite.  Yet we must remember: there is a reason for every sadness, every trial, every hurt, every tear.  We might not know it on this side of eternity, but we have to trust our Father because He is good.  God is good because that is who He is, not because of what He does or does not do.  He never tires of our tears and in fact He holds them all in a bottle.  (Psalm 56:8)  This week I thought maybe that bottle would be close to overflowing.  Yet He never stops unfolding grace upon grace on this child of His.
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The Gift of Need

/ amylynw / 1 Comment

I’m not sure how many people know, but Nadine & I are planning on going to Haiti in February for a short mission’s trip.  We have seen God providing for us through many incredible ways.  We were able to send away for our passports two weeks ago, and are eagerly waiting for them to arrive.  As I pray for God to prepare my heart, I am finding that He’s not doing it in ways I was expecting.

The past few months have been an incredible ride of faith.  By incredible, I don’t mean that it’s been smooth-sailing, bump-free, or fear-less.  It’s been more like a wild stomach-losing ride that’s left me breathless and wondering how I’ll make the next turn, or the next day.  It’s been a constant leaning on the Man in the boat.  I have, at many times, panicked instead of trusted.  I’ve cried out, We’re perishing!  When in reality we are just being rocked a bit.

As part of my preparation, I’ve been feeling very needy.  Not exactly what I had in mind, God, I think.  Especially three weeks before Christmas.  Yet He’s been telling me this: needy is a good place to be.  It allows room for God to meet us and others to bless. Yet it’s hard to admit need, isn’t it?  Hard to let God take me where I feel uncomfortably dependent on Him alone.  Hard to be in a spot where I’m accepting other’s help instead of offering my own.  A lot of times, people have no idea they’re even doing it.  I can’t express it enough: we need to listen to the Holy Spirit’s promptings.  They might just be the echo of someone’s prayer in need.  Twenty dollars tucked in an envelope… no one knew the gas tank was empty and there were places to go.  A gift card for some coffee… no one knew how badly this mama needed that break.  A meal… no one knew the fridge was empty.  A letter, a comment, an encouraging word… no one knew how many doubts have risen up to try to break down this heart with discouragement.  Generosity trumps need.

We each have our own poverty.  It is a difficult thing to embrace.  Yet I think it is something which brings us closer to the power of God.  When we have an empty, impoverished part of our life or soul, God is able to fill it.  If we have need of nothing, then we have no need of God.  This must be why Paul said that he would glory in his weakness.  We often think of poverty as the obvious famine-ravished country in Africa.  Yet there is more to poverty than just a hungry belly.  Sometimes it is financial: five dollars left in the bank, with bills still arriving in the mail.  Sometimes it may be more hidden: a relationship which is torn, a loneliness that is insatiable.  Sometimes it is a poverty of the spirit and soul, a feeling like there is nothing left to give, nothing to offer. God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for Him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.  (Matt. 5:3)  We are blessed.  No longer self-sufficient.  God’s blessings are more meaningful because He is able, in our poverty, to meet our need.   When we experience poverty, that is when we experience God’s power to provide.  And when we’ve experienced that power, it is impossible not to give back to God and touch others in need along the way.DSC_7094

My Weeping Shadow

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Every night I look back on my day and wonder at a few of the things I did or did not do.  When all is quiet, it’s hard to truly remember how very trying all the noise really was.  When there are no more voices calling my name, I wonder why I was so irritated at that hundredth call for mommy.  I know there was constant activity all around me all day long, because of the evidence.  An apple core hidden here.  A stuffed animal under the table.  Loads of dishes scrubbed and ready for more carnage tomorrow.  Baskets of folded clothes, indicating they were once mounds of laundry.  The ever-emptying refrigerator.  Not to mention everything in my dustpan at the end of the day.

This morning started off with about a quarter cup of cereal.  Since that doesn’t divide between five children so well, I used some leftover bread dough for a monkey bread breakfast.  Served on my Italy plate, it was a splendid start to our day.  Then all of a sudden all I could think about was how long everyone’s hair was, and we had haircuts all around.  The boys got spiffed up, and Betty lost her baby mullet.  She did a great job, and her whole face looks older.  It matches her just-about-two personality.

Today I called her my weeping shadow.  After the morning cheer, she laid down great for her nap… except she never fell asleep.  A poopy diaper later, and she was not doing the whole nap thing today.  So we battled through many tear-filled moments.  She had her first time-out yesterday.  She is experiencing the “try one bite” at supper ordeal.  She understands every single thing we say, and is sprouting like a little seed in a jar of water.  Between my weepy shadow who couldn’t leave my side, math, geography, and everything else required of us today… supper ended up a last-minute outing where the kids were so enthralled with their surroundings that they didn’t eat.  Then we went to Matthew’s exercise class, and by the time we got home at 8 o’clock, my bearded husband was whipping out the pancake recipe for a late-night-second-supper.  The full moon was wreaking havoc on everyone’s ability to settle down anyway, so why not enjoy a few chocolate-chip pancakes before bed?  We did just that.  Betty relaxed her sweet chubby feet on my warmed up rice bag, and everyone ate their fill.


 I’m thankful for my messy life.  For the hair which shows growth.  Our daily bread, especially cinnamon and sugar-covered bread.  The beauty of a full moon.  Tears to show a heart alive, filled with emotion and the ability to feel.  I’m thankful for strength to do more than I feel physically able to do sometimes.  For creativity to color the mundane.  For chattering which makes silence more precious.  For grace upon grace upon grace.  For little shadows that need me to scoop them up and feel cherished as they are.

Don’t Just Try… DO.

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This week at church we were challenged name ourselves as we perceive ourselves to be.  Much like Thomas the Doubter, or Marvin the Stingy, or Lois the Lazy.  What we often don’t claim to be true, is the fact that when we are in Christ Jesus, we are a new creation!  The old has passed away!  Yet we cling to our old name.  We refer to ourselves by a name that is dead, and pass by the new name God has given us.  I am Amy the Quitter.  When things get too hard, I give up.  When circumstances seem impossible, I tend to doubt God is really in it.  When  I’m tired of doing something, I stop doing it.  I’m still fitting into my new name of Amy the Doer.  Even when things get tough, impossible or no longer fun… I must keep going.

In Judges 6, we’re introduced to a man named Gideon.  Threshing wheat in the wine-press  he is hiding from his enemies.  God calls out to Gideon and meets Him right where he is: lonely and fearful.  He reassures him: The Lord is with you.  Then He names him:  mighty man of valor!  Gideon doesn’t respond very valorously.  He doubts– a lot.  He complains some.  He whines a little.  He makes excuses.  He even tries to convince God that He has named the wrong guy.  At last, he puts God to the test, to see if He really is who He says He is.

When Gideon finally perceives he was indeed speaking face-to-face with God Himself… a Theophany of Jesus in the form of the Angel of the Lord… he is afraid.  Again.  The Lord comforts him with the perfect words: Peace be with you.  Do not fear, you shall not die.  Gideon builds an altar to the Lord and calls it, appropriately, The-Lord-Is-Peace.  Gideon’s story continues and he does go on to do what God told him He would accomplish.  He occasionally slips back into his old identity of fear, but God is so gracious to remind him of how He sees Gideon–  able to fight victoriously.

God uses our weakness not to define who we are, but to magnify His strength and power in our life.

He doesn’t pick at us, like we so often do ourselves.  Are you fearful?  Let Him be your courage.  Are you tired?  Let Him be your strength.  Are you weak?  Let Him be your power.  Are you believing the lies of the enemy?  Let His truth fill your mind.  Is your life feeling rather chaotic?  Let Him be your peace.

For Gideon, being a mighty man of valor didn’t mean he never felt fear again.  He did, but he consciously claimed God’s promise of being with him, and he actively stepped out into fearful situations, relying on God’s power for victory.  For me, being a doer doesn’t mean I will never feel like giving up again.  I must consciously rely on God’s strength to step out and finish tasks He has told me to do.  I can’t keep drifting back to my habit of giving up.  I know He is gracious and will provide His own power to will and to do His good pleasure.  He also provides people to come alongside and encourage me to keep going.

So, off I go to DO what needs doing today!  I have been given the gift of today, and the incredible power of God to DO things… both great and small.

Love Does

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One of my favorite books is by Bob Goff, called Love Does.  Today my life felt like a chapter in that book.  This morning I woke up to the beeping of my phone and this text from a friend: Dear Weldons, would you like to come spend the day with us?  We will make you a pancake breakfast, we will get your laundry started, and then we’ll get to work on school stuff.  We would love to have you!  I went to bed wondering what the day would hold.  I woke up so incredibly touched by this practical invitation.  Love does.  Today at lunch, at a full table of a dozen children and two mommies, Nadine thanked the Lord that our water was off so we could enjoy the day with our friends!  I’m also thankful that I can run over to another friend’s house and go to the bathroom at any hour.  I’m thankful for the offers of showers and baths.  Sometimes we think about how we could help others, instead of just doing it.  Being on the receiving end of love in action is incredible, but not even as much as being on the giving end.  He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.  Prov. 11:25  Getting outside our comfort zone is awkward sometimes.  It might involve having some un-bathed family raid your house and cupboards.  It might not even be that dramatic.  But when we love practically and specifically, we bless in eternal measures.  Pressed down, shaken together, running over kind of blessings.

Stormy Miracles

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What is there not to be thankful about?  Today at church we heard a riveting story by a man named Terry Caffey.  Click on his name to read his story.  I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for my family.  Though our basement has a layer of smelly sewage on the floor, our water is turned off, and we have to walk to our neighbors to go potty, these are insignificant challenges in light of many things.  I am thankful for the moments together, even the moments of hair-tingling annoyance or when it seems like things will never be quiet… I am thankful.  God is good.  When heaven seems silent, when the waters are stormy, when the boat is rocking and we feel the strength of our problems overwhelming every corner of our heart… He is there.  God uses the storms in our life to show His greatest miracles.  He has a purpose for my life and yours.  He is working behind the scenes on things we cannot even begin to dream about.

Giant Generosity

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Today I’m thankful for wonderful neighbors, especially Jen, who is this magical gardener.  I’m thankful to drive past her house whenever I come home, and whenever I drive or walk by, I feel as if I’m transported out of the city to somewhere beautiful.  I’m thankful for the ginormous pumpkin she gave me.  It made five pan-fulls of roasted chunks, and five blender-fulls of puree!  It could feed our family for a week, I think.  I’m thankful for generosity shown to us through our family in Christ.  God loves a cheerful giver!  So many times we wonder at what He wants us to do.  Usually He is just nudging us towards small, everyday acts of kindness, generosity, and selflessness.  He loves that.  It reflects who HE is to us.  I want to reflect who He is to others.