A trip to Memphis last weekend.

Mother’s Day.

A new seminary class started this week.

Dance recital rehearsals, lots of them.

An appointment with home repair folks.

AWANA awards picnic.

Planing a baby shower.

Field day at school.

Then another recital rehearsal, decorating for a baby shower, the actual recital, the baby shower, and a coffee to say goodbye to a friend…

And my head is spinning.

But God whispers low into my crazy.

He whispers that His load is light in the midst of the crazy spinning around me.

He reminds me that He has a plan and a purpose.

He faithfully helps me through the racing turning with wild grace that I could never deserve.

And He covers my sinful ways with His blood.

And I wonder at it all.

I wonder at God’s crazy gift of love wrapped in human flesh.

His love for me is amazing. His grace is overwhelming. His peace is given even in the crazy weeks.

And I wonder what my life is testifying to this crazy crazy week…

Does my life reflect my Savior?

Am I grateful in the midst of the busy-ness?

Do I have time for people or am I too stuck on my to-do list?

How do you stay centered on Christ when everything else is so crazy?

I strain my eyes to see the days, weeks, years that could be down that road. Murky images of maybes and what-ifs dance around the curve.

I turn to look down the other path and hope to see something else. Something more substantial. Is this the road?

Each path holds promise and each requires faith.

And change it isn’t easy and maybe it is fear that keeps me on the same path.

And I stand poised. My foot itching to take the next step.

Yet a voice behind me whispers softly.

“Wait.”

And my back wants to arch and my body wants to rebel, but I know the voice. I know I must wait.

Doubts fly about me and batter my heart. Fear plants itself deep down in my heart.

Fear can paralyze, but fear can purify too.

It burns in my heart and I see the disease of it all. The fear it comes from dark places of pride.

So as I wait at the crossroads I feel the fire. I smell the smoke. The dead places dying.

And He is near. He hides me under His wing. He sings over me and calls me his beloved.

There at the crossroads when I don’t know which way to go, He delights over me.

And I don’t deserve His patience, His guidance, or His love…Still He is there loving me, guiding me, waiting for me…

And I wait – at times impatiently – for Him to show me the next step.

Tore the bandage off the hidden ugliness behind the pain and wounds. In front of women I never met, but I knew a part of their struggle.

I stood in a room full of women dealing with infertility or pregnancy loss and I spoke words of comfort, words of truth, words of correction.

And some of them cried and inside my heart ached for each one. My heart cried out broken and without answers. Yet there is hope and God, He doesn’t tells us the whys or the hows…But He is able to give us what we want or to withhold it.

He gives and He takes away and when we cling to Him our faith increases. God’s ways are not mine and it isn’t the amount of faith I have that will heal me, but the amount of grace I let God pour on me. His healing is of the eternal kind. Sometimes He heals physically, but sometimes He does not…Still we are healed in eternity.

Yet the physical pain remains and the questions are unanswered. It doesn’t seem fair.

So together we walk the road…The road that may lead to miracles in our bodies, in our hearts, or on our doorsteps. Miracles that bring us biological children, a peace about how many children we have, or children to adopt. The road may still have twists and turns.

There will be losses and gains and pain. Tears will be shed and one thing I saw in that beautiful group of women on Saturday.

The pain binds. It is true in my life. Those who walked the darkest days with me, they are the closest.

And shared pain it binds you tight and keeps you close. It is what we bear for each other. Pain that we cannot understand, pain that burns, pain that sears our heart to others.

And there it is in a group of women dealing with infertility, walking the road together, those women who struggle through church on Mother’s Day and wonder if they will ever get to be called momma. The pain is binding them together. They cry together, rejoice together, hope together.

I just want you to know you are never alone in your pain. Share it. It is worth it.

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So memorizing friends…This week let’s work on 1 John 2:7-8…The wording of these verses is difficult for me to get in my head. How is it going for you?

The dreaded auto-correct makes an innocent text sound like a proposition.

And when I meant to text my husband “Love U 2,” my finger slid or something it I sent “Love U 3.”

I smiled and quickly sent another text “2. Not 3″

But God tugged at my heart. Three…I love You three.

God the amazing three in one – the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

And do I really love them all – all 3?

Jesus certainly I love Jesus, He died for me.

The Father…well, He sent Jesus, so sure I love Him too.

The Holy Spirit. . . do I even know what He does? Do I appreciate who this part of God is? Do I even fathom that this is the part of God who lives in me? Do I get it that prior to the Pentecost after Jesus’ resurrection no one ever dreamed God would do this? No one ever dreamed of God becoming man in the way Jesus did…Certainly no one even imagined He would die in our place a gruesome death…But even more than that the Holy Spirit moves into our souls and lives with us now. Always.

Prior to the Holy Spirit coming, that wasn’t an option. They prayed God would not take the Holy Spirit away from them. When Israel was wandering in the desert God appeared as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, but that same Spirit now lives inside us.

He comforts us, counsels us, spurs us on to love and good deeds. And He sticks around even when I am walking far from the path God intended. He is there in the darkness and He is there in the light.

And  it is true that I Love U 3, God.

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Hello friends. Today I am traveling to Memphis to speak at this event:

Would you please pray for me and the women attending. Oh that I would speak only words God gives me, that His glory will be known, and these women will be encouraged and blessed. Thank you.

The clouds hid the rising sun and it fit.

This morning wasn't going to bring the hope of a new day. It was the day my fears would be confirmed. The day my doctor drew blood. The test would say what the home test told me the day before. I. Was. Not. Pregnant.

And the clouds hid the sun in my heart too.

And I fought to shake the clouds away. Tears stayed at the surface. It is easy to slip into a cloud covered life – a life without hope or joy. No easy answers came to mind. And the clouds became a part of me. My life was marked by barrenness. Where would the sun come from? I prayed for a crack in the clouds. I prayed for sun and it didn't come.

It took a trip to open my eyes. It was another dreary cloudy day. And as the plane took-off I saw it – the sun. I just needed a new perspective – a higher one – to see the sun.

Instead of seeing my barrenness from a human perspective I needed a Godly perspective.

A perspective that says, “God is able, but even if He doesn't I won't bow to anyone else.”

One that knows, “God has plans for me, plans to give me a hope and a future.”

A faith that remembers God's ways are not my ways, but I can trust Him.

And slowly as my mind moved from my earthly perspective to a heavenly one I saw the sun.

True joy dawned in my heart and there in the midst of the heartache I found true joy.

What do you do to find joy?

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As May 4th approached the weather forecast kept getting worse. At one point there was talk of snow early in the morning. And by May 3rd I knew my plans of letting them loose in my back yard was not going to happen.

A knot formed in my throat and my shoulders tensed and I did what anyone with two sisters would do…I called them for advice.

I had already been on the internet looking for ideas for my boy’s Lego party.

And honestly after that search I wanted to puke. I may have a little in my mouth even.

I am not the kind of mom who creates goody bags labeled with their names that look prettier than most presents I wrap. Honestly I am lucky to have a present and in a gift bag when I bring a child to a party. Please don’t get me wrong. I would love to be better organized and super crafts-y (not crafty because that sounds like you are cooking up evil schemes). But I am not.

I can do some fun crafts and I do enjoy them from time to time, but I am not a scrapbooker or crafter extraordinaire. In fact I try my best never to use paint or handwrite anything. EVER! My handwriting still looks like a grader schoolers and I seriously can barely write in cursive any more…..

Anyway, after the internet search my little idea of a kids party looked like that.

little.

But the party had to go on…There was no canceling it after sending out invitations the Tuesday prior to the Saturday party. (I never claimed to be early).

And there I was Saturday morning icing the Lego cake.

Asking my husband to blow up balloons for relay races (by the way 5 and 6-year-olds only slightly “get” relay races). Then I frantically looked for a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey sort of game for legos. I found one and about thirty minutes before the beginning of the party I was cutting out pieces.

Seriously cutting it close…

And still we had a GREAT time. No it wasn’t as planned. It wasn’t a Pinterest or Google Lego extravaganza. But can I tell you a secret?

All the kids had a BLAST!!!! Serious fun with simple games and a party at home…

I’m not dissing those party divas who love to, can afford to, and pull off amazing parties with candy bars, lego goody bags, amazing fondant covered cakes, or even the perfect decorations (I had a store bought table cloth) all color coordinated.

But sometimes less really is more. And my boy was super happy to have his party at his house without much decor and lots of friends.

God taught me it doesn’t have to be perfect or all Pinterest-y or even color coordinated. Instead it has to be done with love and in excellence. I did my best with the time and talent God gave me. And God blessed it all.

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So my memorizing friends…Let’s review this week…1 John 1-2:6…This is the week to get caught up if you are behind…like me…I hope you can join in…

Every little thing that didn’t go right stretched and irritated.

I spoke with an edge. I asked for forgiveness from. . . the whole family. . . more than once.

SIGH!

And it hurts because I don’t want to be cranky and mean.

I tell myself I know God gives grace and I can rest in Him, but I don’t.

I run from thing to thing sending up prayers asking God to bless me. . . without asking Him to show me what He wants.

And I do what I don’t want to do. . .

And just because I am cranky doesn’t mean my family deserves my wrath or frustration.

I try to rein in my thoughts. Focus on what is pure and lovely, true and right…

And I can’t do it myself. I may want to think I can, but I can’t.

I am depraved and broken and I need God.

And He is waiting for me to come to Him. . . His burden is easy and His yoke is light.

But I pile things on myself and I chide myself and I wonder why I’m stressing out…

And the truth is only God can do it in me…

And God forgives.

And God gives grace.

How good He is to give us grace!

What do you do when you feel cranky?

My heart sank. I envisioned a huge puddle of water in the closet ruining the dark maple stained hardwood floor. “What do you mean big?” I asked attempting to keep the edge out of my voice as I ran to grab towels to sop up the water.

“It’s big mom. OK?” her frustration rang in her voice.

“Where is the mess?”

“There,” she pointed to a damp spot on the dark floor.

Relief flooded my heart, “It wasn’t that bad.”

“But my backpack is wet.”

“It is? Where?”

She handed me the backpack and it was damp. I began to empty the backpack as my heart rate increased. Oh God please say her school books are not wet.

“Go get another backpack or bag. You can’t use this one,” I nodded at the wet one as I removed a wet jacket, a booklet with what appeared to be tie-dyed marker splotches where words and drawings once were. I finally reached her school agenda, only slightly damp, and her reading books. The books were dry. Thank You Jesus!

And still there was a lesson learned. Our book Pete the Cat is wet through – most likely ruined.

“Mommy don’t throw that away,” she said tears pricking her eyes as she pointed to her booklet. “You haven’t seen it yet.”

“I’ll try to save it, but I don’t know if I can.”

And the mess could steal my joy. I could have yelled and screamed about the mess and that she was lucky she didn’t ruin her school books. I could have stormed and pouted. I don’t get me wrong I wasn’t perfect…

But I realized I do it too.

God tells me I need to do something and I forget or get lazy or just don’t.

I make a mess. It may not be an obvious one, but I do. And there are consequences to my mess.

Some things get ruined. Other things will be marked forever with water stains.

And I am responsible.

But here is the truth. God is able to redeem our broken, water stained messes and make them beautiful.

And so a mess can’t steal my joy. It may make me penitent. I may need to ask for forgiveness.

Oh but there is joy in the redemption and beauty in the mess. And maybe I chuckled a bit when it was all over as I imagined the scene…The irony of what I thought was important and what she thought was important. How God protected the school books. How we all have to learn hard lessons, but God brings beauty in and from them.

Yes there is joy. And I pray I never let messes steal my joy again.

What do you do to keep messes from stealing your joy?

Wait for Him to move.

Wait for Him to fight.

Wait for Him to make things happen.

And He has moved, fought, and made things happen.

And still He tells me to wait.

Wait so I can see Him move in amazing ways.

Wait so He can heal me.

Wait so He can refine me.

And while I wait I pray for wisdom, direction, timing, and God’s hand.

His perfect will is going to happen and sometimes He lets hard things happen in the course of His perfect will.

Things that can sour me.

Things that eat away at my heart and hurt terribly.

Things that make we want to walk away from people, maybe even the church.

Still I know these difficult things God allows. He only holds me in the fire long enough to refine me.

And the fire burns. It feels like dying. And I want to run. I want to blame others and maybe others are at fault.

But that doesn’t mean God can’t refine me as I let go of my ways and let Him burn the pride away.

God is showing me that He can bring reconciliation.

He can bring healing.

He can work this out for His glory.

And somehow the beauty of His majesty will be seen.

So I wait and I pray and I cling to God and His broken people – and we all are broken.

My brokenness undoubtedly has scraped and scarred some folks.

And maybe their brokenness pricks and burns me too.

But God has called a broken people to do His work.

And these broken people are Christ’s bride and my mind cannot hold the beauty and horror of that truth.

He calls us holy and still we are to strive to be holy.

He says we are one and still we must work for unity.

He has won the victory and still there are battles to be fought.

And it is here in the already and the not yet that I pray and wait.

I pray for peace.

I pray against violence.

I pray for those abused and abandoned.

I pray for the misused and enslaved.

I pray for those lost and hopeless.

I pray for reconciliation and repentance.

I pray “Your kingdom come.”

And I wait for God to move.

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So who is memorizing 1 John with me? I’ve got chapter 1 and nearly all of the first three verses of chapter 2. So let’s try to get 1 John 2:3-6 this week. We will do a review week next week to make sure we have all of chapter one and the first six verses of chapter two.

On Wednesdays I typically write about how God really got me during the week. I share something He is teaching me and I offer a chance for other bloggers to link-up a post and share what God is teaching them.

And now it is time for a change.

I am not sure what this change will exactly look like, but I am praying about what is next for Rethinking My Thinking. I still will write here. I need to write here…I learn better, process better, I am better when I write.

I just want to make sure I am obeying God and through God’s grace I want to encourage and challenge you in your relationship with God.

So I don’t know exactly what Wednesdays will be like in the next few weeks or months, but there will no longer be a link-up.

Will you pray with me? And if you have something you would like me to discuss over here I’d love to hear about it. Leave a comment or e-mail me.