Truth Written on a Coffee Pot

Last year, I decided to randomly start writing messages on post it notes - messages that I knew needed to further sink into my heart. I chose my coffee pot to be the place where I put my notes, because after all,  I knew I would see them there. In such a loved place in my home, surely, after seeing them so much, they would sink in.  Right?  

The first one was "You deserve to be loved".


A year ago, I was just beginning to believe that. And I confess that a few select events of the past year threatened to uproot that belief. Thankfully though, those words were knitted in a very solid foundation because a year later, I come to you now with these words:

I still believe it. 

That's why I can speak the same phrase into other's lives too - because I've known what it's like to suffocate without holding that belief in your heart. 
 
So, my coffee pot affirmation worked, right?


If only it was always that simple. 
                                                               
                                                                 
                                                                           The truth is that it's not.  



Earlier this year, I retired that post it note and put another one in it's place: 

"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord" Job 1:21

~ 

That verse made it's way to my coffee pot earlier this year - after I had experienced a loss that took me much by surprise.  Shortly after that loss, I experienced a personal trauma that shook my foundation to the very core. Trust me, that event put me on a journey that I never thought I would face again. 

Yet, this verse would stare me in the face each and every day - and it became a truth I stood on and it rooted firmly in the soil of my faith.

It's what has kept my eyes toward Heaven, literally singing to the stars, "Happy Birthday" to my sister, a few short weeks ago. 

It's what softened my sorrow when I found out my Father passed away last month. I know where my Daddy is.  He's HOME.

My Dad lived a FULL life here.  And I can only imagine the even FULLER life my Dad is experiencing with Jesus and his other daughter, Elena.  This belief, held in my heart, serves to blessedly soften the loss of my Dad because I truly believe his soul entered the place it was created for all along.

And even still, I reach out to the woman whom God chose to give me life and bring me into this world, even as she rests in a psychiatric unit, detached, bitter, angry, and overcome by her own mental illness that her doctors are doing their best to treat.  I have had numerous "Why do you still care, after everything she has done?"  My response is simple and direct: "She is a human being. And sometimes people need love the most when they deserve it the least."  And instead of having my own heart be consumed by bitterness that I still can't have the Mom I have longed for all my life, I am grateful that my heart refuses to dwell in unforgiveness.  Mom, I forgive you.

In the middle of all of this, I find a place in my heart to give thanks - my eucharisteo. I have seen that God not only works in big ways, but is it not true that He works in small ways as well?  I love how Ann Voskamp of "One Thousand Gifts" puts it .. "When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin, and deep crevices, life grows."

I praise God that my Mom is being in a place where she is finally receiving the help she needs.  I am thankful that my heart still has compassion for her - and still cares about a woman who long since ceased to care about me. I am thankful that God gave me the strength to testify in court - ultimately for her well-being - a mere 4 days after I had laid my Father to rest.  I am thankful that the Lord blessed me with dear friends who uttered timely words of love and support during my harder times and for the arms that have held me when no words would suffice. I am thankful that God has given me a multi-tasking and reasonably intelligent mind to hopefully handle their affairs and estate with the care and clarity needed - and may my own Red Sea part when the time comes that I'm facing an ocean of concern.

Thanksgiving is the tool I use to treat the wound that this world has given. 

I give thanks for the sleepy eyes of my little loves as they awaken and trudge off to their first day of school and give thanks for sunsets that make me grab my iphone to snap a pic to capture the beauty.  And when hard times come, as they certainly will, I give thanks to the promise found in scripture that declares "there is a time and season for everything" (Eccl 3). 

My prayer is that this song can be the cry of your heart if you are in a place where your hands can no longer lift to Him.  He loves you, my dear readers. 

A special Mother's Day writing for the motherless daughter

In a few days, mothers and daughters will gather and celebrate the relationship that begins from the first beat of a tiny heart deep in mother's womb.  The relationship that contains all the amazing moments of awe - from holding her tiny hand during her first hour of life, to holding her hand as she walks into Kindergarten, to holding her hand as she steps into her car as she drives off to college.


Mothers and Daughters. 

And for those whose of you whose mothers have either passed away or can no longer be in your life, may I sit with you for a minute?  May I pass you a warm cup of coffee and send you a glance of "I understand?"  May I put my arms around you and wipe a tear if you need me to?

It's okay to reflect on the moments that have passed within the endless arms of times and find yourself longing.

I know I do.

Time passes and life happens, and as birthdays, first days of school, anniversaries, baby showers, first steps, talent shows, family gatherings, and new jobs happen, we are reminded.

We are reminded 
of the journey 
that we walk without her.



Mom.



 Sometimes it's hard to be the motherless daughter when you see mothers and daughters all around you.  Just yesterday I saw a mom and daughter come out of a restaurant and they were laughing amidst the time they were sharing. And while I was happy for them...it made me long.

At age 34, I wish I had a Mom.
And the little girl of my heart perhaps always will long for a Mommy.

I wish I had a Mom to stroke the hair back from my face and tell me that it would be okay.
I wish I had a Mom who would call me at the end of the day ... even if it was just to annoy me.
I wish I had a Mom who could be there to watch her grandchildren grow up and smile as she sees a legacy form amongst the years that pass.
I wish I had a Mom who could hold my hand and we could compare how similar our hands are.
I wish I had a Mom who would tell me things like "Strive for excellence, not perfection".
I wish I could see the words at the end of a birthday card, addressed to me: "Love, Mom"

I wish I had a Mom who would have put pink bandaids on my knee and made me believe that kisses really did heal booboos.

Because they do. 






I believe that the Lord hears my longing ... and yours. And I believe that He is there in the moments when we are sitting curled up alone on the corner of your couch and in the moments when you want to stomp your feet and say, "It's not fair!"

God knows.
God cares about us.
And He catches all the tears that fall .... and even the ones that don't.

You keep track of all my sorrows.
You have collected all my tears in your bottle.
You have recorded each one in your book.
~Psalm 56:8

Rest in Him this weekend, if you need to.  I promise, He can fill those gaps that you might notice more this time of year.

"You are your mother’s daughter, created in your Father God’s image. And nothing can break that." - LisaJo

~
Marlena

Rain or Shine: Everlasting God

I remember one night, not too long ago, when I went with a friend to a conference where a whole lot of God was being spoken and a whole lot of praise was being lifted up. Actually, I was almost dragged there but sometimes you need a friend like that - one who sees you in all your brokenness and even still, loves you into something nourishing. I remember riding there with her in mostly silence because I was in the middle of a pretty powerful personal storm.

I was numb. Shut down. Desperately hurting.
 
We hear about tunnels in our lives that seem dark and let me tell you, this one was a doozy. 

It is also in those darkest tunnels that slivers of light can most easily radiate.

I went in and sat down. 

I could not mistake the presence of God and God-filled people all around me - it was definite nourishment my soul needed. I stared within the room - at people thirsty for Glory and hungry for grace.  But me? I could not sing.  I could not stand and raise my hands to Him.  I was still.  I didn't want to mechanically sing, so in a manner very much unlike me and with people standing all around me, I sat, shut down. Arms crossed protectively.

Then a song started playing...a song about not always being strong. The lyrics reminded me something - that God's strength powerfully begins where mine sacrificially ends.  The lyrics echoed the promises of God - which, no matter what, I cling to and believe. No matter what. 

The words of Isaiah 40:31 ring true, "Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

And I realized that no matter what storm I was in...my belief in the truth about who God is, was stronger than my silence and stillness. 

God is good, all the time.

God.
Is.
Good.

And no matter how bad the times were, God was still good. God was still God.

As Max Lucado says, "If God can make a billion galaxies, can't He make good out of our bad and sense out of our faltering lives? Of course He can. He is God."

I rose to my feet.

Somewhere within the lyrics, my protective arms uncrossed and my wounded heart surrendered - and I sang.

When you see God moving and transforming the lives of others…

Nothing transforms, makes new, renews, and breathes grace giving life, like the power of God.  

Nothing. 

"Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces." Psalm 34:5 

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore." Psalm 16:11 

~Fallen Hope? Think again, beloved. ~

Sometimes it's all just a matter of perspective....

In my office, above the double doors, I have two metal words hung up: "Love" and "Hope".  Last week, out of nowhere, "Hope" fell and just landed on the carpet, staring at me as I sat nearby at my computer chair.

And on the tail-end of an incredibly difficult two weeks, I confess to you this: I sighed.

Loudly.

Why me? Why did "hope" have to fall down on the ground again? Isn't it always like that, though? We think that we are finally on a roll of life and in the swing of living, when all of a sudden the rug is swooshed out from under us and we're left wondering, "Um, I didn't sign up for this.  Hope, can you please get back up where you belong?"

I left it laying there - I'm not sure why.  I passed by it for several days, thinking about my recently fallen hope and I didn't notice the incredibly obvious truth that was literally right there in front of me.  On my carpet, by the newly painted blue walls.

Hope.

A friend pointed it out to me when I told her the story. She said that she didn't see that hope had fallen at all. 

She said that hope had made itself known to me. 

And, indeed, it had.  Because everyday that I saw that word on my floor (much, much more often than I would have seen it hanging above my door), I was reminded of the word. In the midst of every morning, every afternoon and every evening...there it was.  Making itself known.  Seen.  Tangible -- even as just a word.

Hope itself wouldn't let me forget that that hope exists.

Even if I don't see it.
Or understand it.
Or expect it.

It's easy to focus on the rain or the storm.  It's easy to focus on the trial and lose sight that someday, prayerfully...this too shall pass and once again, light will prevail. It always has and always will. So will justice - even if it's not on this side of Heaven.

Hope.

Once again, truth trumps feelings.

And in the pale blue office, with books, a mug of steaming coffee, piles of paperwork and a woman with brown hair tossed into a pony tail, I write about that very word.

Hope.


Beautiful, real hope.

~ Things that make life worth living ~

Sunsets. Falling in love. Hearing your favorite song on the radio. Lying in bed listening to the rain outside. Candlelight. Milkshakes. Bubble baths. Giggling. Seeing the stars twinkle. Long conversations late at night. Waves hitting a beach. Running through sprinklers. Smiles. 

 

 

The beauty of a snowfall. Sledding. Red cheeks. Laughter.  Bubbles. Twirling. Hula hoops. Laughing at an inside joke. Laughing at yourself. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Laughing for absolutely no reason at all. Just plain laughing. Having someone tell you that you're beautiful. Friends. 













Realizing that you are loved by the God of the Universe. Accidentally overhearing someone say something nice about you. Taking a chance. Knowing God. Those "aha" moments in life. Hope.

 




 Amazing grace.

 

Waking up and realizing you still have a few hours left to sleep. First kisses. Making new friends or spending time with old ones. Playing with a new puppy. Holding a sleeping baby. Sweet dreams. Hot chocolate. The prefect cup of coffee. Butterfly kisses. Making chocolate chip cookies. Making a mess. Hearing "I love you". Warm snuggles.








Holding hands with someone you care about. Watching the sunrise. Watching a sunset. Realizing you made a difference in someone's world. Realizing that you really are that strong. Encouraging someone. Knowing that somebody misses you. Knowing that you are someone worth missing. Knowing you matter to someone - but first of all, to yourself. Dancing in the dark. Singing in the shower. 

Feeling your heart open. 

                                                      Knowing that you really can reach for the stars.

~ Winter, peace, broken roads ~

Tonight, I'm listening.

I'm listening to the crackle of the warm fire not 10 feet from me.

I'm listening to the wind howling outside - negative 8 degrees wind chill is ridiculously cold for Dallas! But inside, only cozy warmth. :)

I'm listening to the sound of my cat purring nearby.

And I'm listening to the sound of peace, mixed with a little amazing grace.

In this moment, in my now, these average and ordinary sounds remind me of one specific, beautiful thing: I'm at peace.

Peace.

I know what peace is because I've experienced everything it isn't.

I believe God doesn't create broken roads of our lives but He sure can lead us through them...right to Him, where His perfect love and perfect peace abounds. I never knew all the lost dreams I had were really resting in Hands greater than mine. I never knew that the true love that I was looking for all along could not be found within any person but in a God who gave life it's name. I never knew that the broken pieces of my life were worth the time to be put back together. I never knew what love truly was ... until it called me, saved me, redeemed me.

And where I'm at ... where I've been ... where I'm going, I dedicate this song to my God, my Savior, my best friend:

"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4