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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 State House and eventually held different positions for state pro-life organizations, including president for a time.   She eventually started a Crisis Pregnancy Center, which she continues to run.  She has worked exhaustively on too many political campaigns to count.  And even I eventually worked for a U.S. Congressman myself and had never felt more passionate about getting up and going to work and doing my best for constituents in my great state of Indiana.

I’ve been reading various things lately and thinking on all sorts of topics... everything from our early independence to mothering and “me time” and grace-based parenting and to top it off, I signed on as a consultant for an inspirational home decor business, a division of DaySpring.  Recently I’ve jumped into some new things - singing in the choir, for instance and building my new business and trying to really focus and hone in on the ministry and hospitality of it all.  And I’m a mother.  And a wife.  And I have two-million unfinished book ideas and two blogs.  And then there's Pinterest (Ha.)

We’re all dreamers.  We were made to be.  We were created and formed in this cosmic sort of way... from very hands that hung stars in the midnight sky, like ornaments on a Christmas tree.  Arms and legs, pulled up from the dust.  A rib here.  A heart there.  A cornucopia of an ear to fill with music and the sounds of nature, whispered words of love and our baby’s first cry.  Remarkable and intentional.  Every piece ordained.  Every hair considered.  With that much attention to detail... is it not so easy to believe that we were meant for great things?

Dreamy things?

While reading of women ready and present at the start of our country’s first breaths, I’m inspired.      They did hard things.  They stood up for what they believed in.  They went without to prove a point, to showcase dedication.  They birthed babies one after another, losing many when they were young and even dying at a young age themselves.  

But what they didn’t do was waste time.  What they didn’t seem to do was concentrate on what didn’t matter.  What they didn’t do was fantasize about what wasn’t.  They went to work, they made their homes, they held the hearts of their husbands and bent their ears towards truth.  And the focused training for their children had more to do with Biblical knowledge and of being a valuable member of society because of what you gave - not what you were given or seemingly owed.  

I am struck by the letters they wrote back and forth to each other, to the papers, to their men.  They wrote plays and poetry and were published.  It has made me smile, because what they were doing in 1776?  It has made me grin proud: Girls, they were blogging!  They were reaching out.  They were inspiring each other.  They were embracing their voice, standing tall in the necessary ranks of home and battlefield.  They were doing a lot of what mattered and very little of what didn’t.

So, to those that hope great big things... Go for it.  You have to.  You’re supposed to feel that way.  It’s not about buying into the lie of doing it all or having some kind of streamlined perfection.  It’s about making time for what matters.  Mercy Otis Warren is sited in Founding Mothers as relaying this truth to a friend “...that it was possible to do both, raise proper children and write profound chapters, as long as you arranged your time sensibly.”

The only limits we have are what we allow to be put on us.

Do we have responsibilities?  Yes.  And do we have things that we are intended to do by God?  Yes.  If we were created with such love and such thought, then I am secure in the fact that my keep-on-believing heart was intended and God-breathed.  My love of words, of music, of order are not by chance.  My desire to host, to love, to be shiny are not unknown or surprising to God.  My upbringing, where I landed on this great big sphere, is no mystery to Him.  

He was and has always been the ultimate dreamer.  We’re part of a massive story full of angels and demons and miracles and water-walkers.  We are knotted together throughout history.  We are related to presidents and missionaries, pastors and engineers.  Regardless of the earthly family we were born into, we have always been connected to the family of Christ.  Jesus came as Savior.  And He created sight where there was none and brought healing when it was craved and gave life when all we could see and smell was death.  He loved, He told stories, He worked hard.  He built friendships and fed bellies.

That’s what we get to sign on with.  Someone who has walked the hard road of living out a God-given passion and calling.  Our voices are needed.  Our abilities within the home, within the church, are necessary.  Our marriages are desperately called on to be something greater.  Our homes have such potential as vessels that we can’t even dream big enough.  Our blogs, our stories, our hearts are so wanted and needed.  He will fill us and then we can pour it out again and again, dream after dream.  We need to remember that we were always meant do great things in Christ because of all we have been given.

His story, and ours, over and over.  Tell that story.  In all your stories... tell that one.

"I love to tell the story
of unseen things above,
of Jesus and His glory,
of Jesus and His love..."
~ Katherine Hankey & William Fischer
"I Love to Tell The Story"


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