Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from February, 2013

Make me an instrument...

I recently began reading the blog of Holley Gerth.... love her!  And she has a challenge out of writing on dreaming big - of being a God-sized dreamer and embracing those passions and songs and stories and callings He has placed in us. 
We have always been and needed dreamers.  And storytellers.  And mountain movers.  And women have always played a vital role - in the home and outside - when it comes to, well, everything.  Women grow and birth life.  And not just physical children, but we were made to house and create, inspire, decorate, adorn and encourage.  We have hearts, voices, hands.  And feet. 
I’m reading a book right now, Founding Mothers and it is kindling all of this crazy historical, patriotic fire in me.  You have to understand, I grew up on politics and the pro-life movement.  This is familiar and comfy to me. My playgrounds were banquets and fundraisers, hog roasts and parades.  
My mother began advocating for the unborn when I was a little girl and she lobbied at the Stat…

I lost my keys...

Ten minutes after putting him to bed, he calls out.

I go up, annoyance a close second to my wearing-thin patience.  I've been up since about 4 a.m.  I'm ready to be off the clock.  Understandably.  

He's standing in bed and I ask quickly, "What do you need, buddy?"  

"A kiss!" he says.  "I kiss you!"

My shoulders dip in relief (in defeat?) and I wrap him close and kiss his little boy, but somehow still baby, cheek.  He hugs me back, presses in and goes, "Kiss you!  I almost forgot."

I almost forgot.

I sag.  I melt.

Even though we had just done prayers and cuddles and "Jesus, Loves Me" (and yes, kisses) it wasn't enough.  He had to love me a little longer.  A little bit more.  And in his mind... he almost forgot.  All the times he said, "I loves you, too." weren't ringing a bell.  All that counted at that moment, at that very second, he had felt convicted about kissing his Momma.  And even worse in his mind, how h…

You gotta know you're wanted...

My husband and I are part of a group at church and we just finished going through the book, "The Five Love Languages".  I had read it awhile back, but thought it would be a fun refresher.  Girls always think going through a marriage book is a good idea, I think.

But here's the thing:

The more I thought about it, the more my husband and I talked about it, the more I considered throwing the entire thing in the trash (except I couldn't actually do that because it was on my Kindle.  Ha.)  But in concept, I thought about abandoning the whole thing.

It's not because it's not a good read.  It's not because it doesn't contain good information.  It's not because I don't want to discover my spouse's primary love language and go crazy for them with it.  I want Aaron to feel loved, respected, honored and needed by me.  And I know that he does.  And that's not always because I speak his primary love language.  And I know he loves me, even though my…

Don't it sound so good...

Yesterday wasn't just your average day at church.

At the start of the fourth service, we had a surprising experience.

A proposal.

It was highly anticipated, as most requests for a lifetime together are, and the tears flowed easy from those who knew the couple well and to those who are just beginning to (like me).  It was beautiful.  It was honest.  It was love in all its unashamed, vulnerable, free sort of way.

But what keep rotating through my memory isn't the exact moment of the proposal or the way she covered her mouth in shock or the way I could tell he was grinning ear to ear even though I couldn't see his face or the way he said, "You know I love you." just before he knelt down.

What got me and continues to get me is that after the proposal and the cheering and they went to sit down, her best friend jumps up from her seat in the choir and rushes to her side.  And not just her side, but she plopped right down on her lap and gave her a hug that meant everythi…