Coming In Last

Coming in last.

I hate it.

Really hate it.

Maybe you do, too?

Have you ever thought about why you hate it?

I have and I’ve boiled it down to a simple statement.

I’m afraid.

Ick.

It’s safer to say that we hate to come in last. It doesn’t sound quite as pitiful as admitting that we’re all grown up and we’re still shaking in our boots.

Afraid we will fail. 

Afraid people will think less of us. 

Afraid we’ll make an idiot out of ourselves. 

Afraid we’ll blow it so badly that others will be able to see our weakness.

For the past year, I’ve faced this fear every single time I walk into Five Forks CrossFit. 

For the first three months, I was so nervous that my stomach would do somersaults from the time I woke up until the WOD was over. In my mind, I had no business joining a CrossFit. I was out of shape, overweight, and not in possession of any particular athletic prowess. 

Truth be told, in the first few weeks, there were multiple events that tempted me to turn tail and run.

• My first week, I fell off a box and messed up my wrist. I came in last.
• For the first month, if the WOD (workout of the day) included burpees, my coach automatically cut the number in half for me. I still came in last.
• As new people joined our box, I watched as they went from not having a clue to killing the WODs. All while I continued to come in last.
• Particularly frustrating were the women, the pregnant and/or brand new moms with 6-week-old babies at home, who lifted more, ran faster, jumped higher, and finished way before me. The girl who finishes last.

Guess what? It’s been a year and I'M STILL COMING IN LAST! Not every time, but a lot of the time. 

But guess what else?

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Run to Him

Hello! Hellooo! Anyone still here?!

Please forgive my lengthy blog absence. Re-writing half of my book turned into a very lengthy process and there just haven't been enough hours in the day. But the revisions were accepted and the book is headed out to a copy editor in the next week or so. For the foreseeable future, I’m hoping to write one blog post a week (I just typed “month” – think my subconscious is trying to tell me something??) J

FYI - The blog will be going through an overhaul in preparation for my book release, but that probably won’t happen until after the first of the year.

So, enough with the news.

Here’s what’s on my heart…

This weekend, we took a huge step in our family.

We packed away the nursery.

(sob)

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Time to Start Over

My son loves playing games on my phone. He has one that he’s been playing for a while now. He’s completed so many levels that he has begged me not to let his little brother play, for fear that he’ll mess things up. 

So I was surprised yesterday when he asked me to download the game onto the iPad. As I handed the iPad to him, I asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Won’t you have to start over from the beginning?” 

He shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “That’s okay, Mom. It will be good practice.”

Ah. Out of the mouth of babes. Or, in this case, five-year-old Angry Birds Go fanatics.

I need to start over.
I have to.
It’s a good thing.
But it’s so hard.

I’ve completed two novels in the past five years. The first one will probably never see the light of day and the the jury is still out on the second. So it’s time to begin a new story. Time to create a new world. Time to breathe life into new characters, then make their lives difficult, come close to killing them several times, and have it all work out in the end.

I’m on the verge of a panic attack just thinking about it.

I’ve been doing everything creative I can think of—besides writing. I’ve knit. I’ve decorated. I’ve read. I’ve cooked.

But today, I’m writing.

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Dear Jesus...Amen

I love hearing my kids find their voice as they learn to talk to God.

Emma goes for loud and proud. “Dear Jesus,” she’ll begin, then we usually get a nice pause. This is followed by her thanking Him for something about her day, or the food, or something really random like swings or a television show.
I know God looks forward to her prayers. I believe they make Him smile.

Then there’s James. At four, his prayers are already starting to sound like the prayers he’s heard. He’s likely to ask God to help us “have a great day” or “keep us safe” and he’s been known to throw in a request for frozen yogurt or a trip to the park. He also is starting to question things. 

He recently wanted to know why we say “Amen” at the end of our prayer. I told him what I’ve always been told, that “amen” means “so be it." That went flying over his head, so I backed up and went with, “it’s a word we use to end our prayers.” He hasn’t started saying “goodbye” or “later” so I think he’s good with amen.

Of course, I imagine God cracking up as this little guy starts to have more of a conversation with Him. I think He loves the questions and looks forward to James coming to Him with more complex queries in the years ahead.

And then there’s Drew. At two, his prayers go like this…Dear Jesus…(long pause)…Amen.
It’s cute, right? Adorable really.
He’ll grow more verbose in the months ahead.

But I wonder if God kinda wishes he wouldn’t.

I wonder if He wishes more of us prayed the way Drew does.

Dear Jesus…(long pause…sitting quietly, waiting for Him) … so be it.

So often, I try to tell God everything I need, because I know what I need. I try to explain the mess, because I know all the ins and outs of the situation. I try to propose a solution, because I’ve been thinking about this for a while.

Wait…why am I praying again?

Maybe we could all take a lesson from Drew. Maybe we need to approach the throne, not with a laundry list of desires, but with one desire.

Dear Jesus…whatever You want…so be it.

Amen.

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A Different Kind of Margin

I have not been in a “bloggy” mood lately, which is weird for me. I love this blog. I love opening up my laptop and watching my scrambled thoughts morph into something that makes sense. At least to me.

Most of the time, I have three or four blog posts ready to go, but for the past couple of months, I’ve felt dry. Uninspired.

Empty.

Which is why I decided to take an unscheduled blog break.

For two weeks, I haven’t attempted to blog at all. I’ve journaled some during my quiet time (with a pen if you can imagine it!), and I’ve spent several hours on my fiction work-in-progress (the opening scene is my absolute favorite thing I’ve ever written, which probably means I’ll have to delete it, but for the moment, I’m quite pleased), but I’ve avoided anything that could look like a blog post.

I’ve been busy living my life instead.

• I’ve planned and more or less succeeded in pulling off a double birthday party for my ten-year-old daughter and two-year old son.
• I’ve taken my children for a long overdue trip to the Children’s Museum (we now have annual passes—that place is awesome)!
• I’ve done a lot of normal things like laundry and meal planning.
• I've played all sorts of random games with my kids. 
• I’ve enjoyed an oh-so-peaceful afternoon sitting in our “library” with my husband while snow fell in fancy flakes and piled up on the ground until we couldn’t stand it anymore and he retrieved all three kids from grandma’s house so we could build a snowman together.
• I’ve started training for a 5K (that’s going to be interesting).
• I’ve gotten a new haircut. I love it and have almost figured out how to fix it on my own.
• I’ve been reading Leviticus, which everyone agrees can be a bit of a slog-fest, and have been stunned to discover how much great stuff is in there. Sure, there’s a fair amount of repetition with regards to long lobes of the liver and fat and entrails. And there’s no question that it’s a bloody book. Despite that, over and over again I find myself in awe, because unless we get just how onerous the Law was, how can we ever hope to appreciate the beauty and generosity of Grace?

After a few weeks of giving myself the margin to do a lot of ordinary things and a few things out of the ordinary, my heart is full and my thoughts are scrambled. I’m itching to start making sense of them again. I hope you’ll join me in the weeks ahead.

Grace and peace,

Lynn

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The Pinterest Perplexity

It can’t just be me.

Please say it isn’t just me.

I love Pinterest! I see the those little rectangles filled with beautifully staged food, artfully arranged mantles, adorably posed children, and I think…

How hard could it be?

Well, I have some homemade hand soap that feels like snot, a goofy looking Valentine’s Day door wreath, and some apples with a caramel filling that refused to stick to prove that just because something looks easy, it doesn’t mean it is.

My most recent Pinterest disaster fiasco experience?

A workout.

Now, I don’t claim to be fit, but I regularly make it through an hour-long Body Combat class and am able to walk to my car unassisted. So when I saw an at-home workout, I thought it might be a great thing to add to my repertoire for the days I can’t make it to the gym.

This particular workout had nine elements. It said to repeat it three times and it should take approximately 25 minutes.

Um. I don’t think so.

I thoroughly intended to do the whole thing three times. About 15 jumping jacks in, it occurred to me that this might be harder than I’d imagined.

When I finished the final element—a 60 second plank (which took me 2 minutes)—I collapsed on the mat with the sure knowledge that there was no way I would be repeating it once, much less twice.

Nothing is ever as easy as it looks.

You know that friend of yours who has it all together? The co-worker who is sailing through life? The Size 4 neighbor with the perfect children?

Don’t believe it.

Nothing is ever as easy as it looks.

I’m not sure why we look at the Pinterest version of the lives around us and assume the snapshots we are allowed to see tell the whole story.

Think about your own life. The hard stuff no one knows about. The health scare. The marriage that’s struggling. The kids that are wandering. The finances that are tighter than anyone suspects. The depression that’s closing in on your mind.

Why do we assume no one else is laboring under a heavy load?

Can I make a suggestion? This Valentine’s week, take some time to pray for the women who mean the most to you. Pray for their relationships, their health, their jobs, their families. Pray for discernment and pay attention to any prompts from the Holy Spirit.

Our real lives are not Pinterest boards.

Let’s quit acting like they are.

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Want to Get Wet?

I just returned from a wonderful week of vacation in the mountains of North Carolina. We had an amazing time and I'm looking forward to sharing bits of what God showed me in the weeks ahead.

But for now, as promised, today is the launch of the new and improved Out of the Boat. I'm keeping the most popular topics, scaling back on a few posts, and adding a new feature that I hope you'll enjoy.

Here's what you can expect when you stop by.

Tuesday: Walking on Water ~ Where our faith gets its feet wet. These are the lessons I'm learning as I live where fear and faith collide. Some lessons are fun. Some poignant. All of them are glimpses of God's grace.

Every other Thursday: Riding the Rapids ~ Where truth splashes us with fresh grace and fiction keeps us hanging on for the ride. These are the books, Bible studies, and experiences that are informing my journey-and keeping it fun!

Saturday: Currents ~ Where wonders and weirdness collide. I hope this makes you curious...check back in on Saturday for the first installment!

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Still Out of the Boat (Part 1)

In honor of my 200th blog post, I've been fiddling with the blog. If you're reading this in a reader or on a mobile device you may not see anything different, but I'm trying to spruce things up around here. I'm also in the process of renewing my focus for Out of the Boat and revamping the schedule, but we'll talk more about that in August.

For this week, I want to answer a question that I get asked with some frequency.

Why did you name the blog Out of the Boat?

I'm going to answer by revisiting a couple of blog posts that were written in April of 2010 when this blog was just a baby, and when I couldn't say "I'm a writer" without turning red and stammering over the words. Some things have changed in the past two years, but one thing hasn't.

I'm still Out of the Boat.

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Out of the Boat - Part 1

Matthew 14: 27-30 - But immediately Jesus spoke to them saying, "Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid." And Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me."

Lynn's synopsis: Peter jumped out. Peter freaked out. Peter called out.

I am so out of the boat.

I guess I didn't exactly jump out of the boat. It was more like a tumble (I'm not known for being graceful). But regardless, I'm out of the boat.

And I am freaking out about it.

Bless Peter. I'm so glad he's in the Bible. I love him. I love that he had a big mouth and a big temper and that he blew it - frequently and spectacularly. And I'm thrilled that God used Peter and we all can smile when we read about Peter's antics in the gospels, because we know how the story turns out. How Peter became a bold and courageous apostle. How he lived - and died - for Christ.

But today, I'm thinking about how Peter freaked out.

The man got out of the boat. Of his own free will, he stepped out of a perfectly good boat and onto water. Water! And he walked on it. We don't know how far he walked before he realized what he had done. Maybe it was a few steps. Maybe 50 yards. But regardless, Jesus called him and he obeyed. And then he totally lost it.

For the past week or so, I've been freaking out quite a bit, once a day, OK fine. A lot. We'll leave it at that.

For me, getting out of the boat has more to do with telling people I'm a writer than the actual writing. Because now that people know . . . what do they expect? Will I be explaining to people five years from now, ten years from now, that 'yes, I'm still writing but no, I haven't been published'?

Was there any reason for Peter to get out of the boat, other than to be obedient to the call?
Does it matter if I'm ever published? Maybe to my pride. But otherwise, no. What matters is that I'm taking the next step, in obedience to my Father.

So why am I freaking out? Because I'm a perfectionist. Because I care way too much about what people think about me. Because I'm afraid of going to this conference and being embarrassed by my naivety. Because I've gotten my eyes off of my Father and on myself. Because I'm trying to do "this" myself when I'm not even sure what "this" is. Because I'm thinking about me - me - me.

But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me." Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of him saying to him, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" -Matthew 14: 30-31

I have no idea why Jesus wanted Peter to get out of the boat and I have no idea why God wants me to write. But it's not just about me. God is up to something. God is always up to something. He's that kind of God!

And when I call out to Him, He takes hold of me and says, "Baby, why are you doubting?"

Ps. 138:8 The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands.

 

****

Credits: A friend of mine posted about how Jesus is always there for us when we've jumped, or been pushed, or went kicking and screaming, out of the boat. I've been thinking about it ever since. You can read her comments here. Thanks for the encouragement Kim!
http://lovegracepeace.wordpress.com/2010/04/07/always-there/

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I wrote these words over two years ago and I'm amazed how true they still are today. I'm living life at the place where fear and faith collide. How about you? Have you stepped out in faith and now are freaking out? Tell us where you are in the journey!

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Why You Should NOT Take A Break This Summer

A few weeks ago, I asked what you were planning to do to grow closer to God this summer. Remember? (If not, click here!)

I know that many of us participate in Bible studies during the school year, but we usually take the summer off. Which makes perfect sense. It’s hard to schedule group sessions around vacations and swim lessons.

What doesn’t make sense?

Taking the summer off.

We aren’t in first grade anymore. We’re supposed to be ever growing, ever learning, ever maturing.

Go ahead and take the summer off from scheduled, group study. But please don’t put your Bible and journal up on a shelf with plans to dig them back out in September.

We must remember that we are in a war. Our enemy doesn’t take summers off. For whole battalions to decide they aren’t going to fight for three months out of the year reveals a serious lack of spiritual maturity on the part of people who should be battle hardened warriors.

Make no mistake about it...if you aren't growing closer to God then you're moving away from Him. The enemy will gladly watch you drift and then he'll unleash every obstacle in his arsenal to be sure you never get as close as you once were.

Now that I’ve gotten all up in your business, let me share with you a resource you might want to consider. You could think of it as a summer refresher course.

Depending on where you are in your walk with the Lord, it might sound like a remedial class.

Trust me, it’s not.

A dear friend of mine (Lori Roeleveld of Deeper with Jesus in Rhode Island), threw out a call to take “The God Challenge” this summer by reading 40 Ways to Get Closer to God written by Jerry (Chip) MacGregor with Keri Wyatt Kent.

It sounded perfect. Maybe a little lighter than what I’d been planning, but hey, it’s summer.

Did I mention that this is not a remedial class?

Good.

It’s not that these challenges are hard. If you’ve been following God for any length of time, you may even read the challenge for that day and think, “Seriously? That’s it? I do that all the time.” I’ve had a few of those days.

To my surprise and embarrassment, when I attempt the challenge I often discover that I needed some work on that particular discipline after all. Consider me Gibbs slapped by God!

I’m not going to give it all away, but I started this in late May. It’s June 11th and I’m not even up to Day 10. I’m trying not to read or jump ahead until I have actually done, or at least planned when I will do, each activity. I'm taking my time because I don't want to just read a book about getting closer to God.

I want to actually get closer to God.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll share with you some of my adventures, what I’m learning, and what God is showing me about how amazing He is. If you’d like to jump in and join the fun, that would be fantastic. (Please send me a shout out in the comments!)

Whether you choose to join in on #TheGodChallenge (our Twitter hashtag) or not, please do something. Read the New Testament. Pray for each member of your family every day. Read the Psalms slowly (I did that last year - loved it!).

Your enemy is not taking the summer off. You shouldn’t either.

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The Joy Dare continues...

3 Gifts Painted ~ Roses painted the perfect pink; baby faces painted in watermelon juice; smiles painted on the faces of friends reunited

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Blessed to Call Him Mine

Sometimes, when a follower of Christ answers the call to come out of the boat and walk a new path, the people they've been doing life with are more hindrance than help.

Instead of cheering, they chide.
Instead of rooting, they rebuke.
Instead of praying, they pout.

And far too often, the resistance comes from those closest. The very people who should understand, don't. Spouses gripe. Parents worry. Friends question.

I know this happens. A lot.

But not to me.

When I started writing a book a few years ago, I had four chapters done when I mustered the courage to print them out and ask for my husband's opinion.

He's been my biggest fan ever since.

All that summer, he'd ask me how the book was coming. It was often this question that drove me to sit back down in front of the computer and press on, even when I thought I'd lost my mind to consider writing a book.

When I typed "The End" it was Brian who declared it a success. And Brian who thought it should be published. It was Brian who encouraged me to take a writing class. Brian who said "yes" to me attending my first (and second) writing conference. Brian who never questions me when I say, "I need to write".

It's Brian who listens when I complain, whine, ok, cry over poor contest scores, blog posts that no one responds to, and rejections from agents and editors. And it's Brian who reminds me from time to time, often, that he's certain God had a purpose for me writing that book and that God's plans for my writing are still unfolding.

It's Brian who encourages me to keep stepping out in faith, even when I'm exhausted from fighting the wind and waves of doubt and fear.

So, if you've ever been encouraged by anything I've ever written, you should know that there's a man in my life who cheers, roots, and prays for me. A man who is out of the boat with me.

A man I am blessed to call mine.

Happy 40th Birthday Brian! I love you!

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Are you taking the JoyDare with me? My personal journal has over 700 grace gifts listed since November 2011. I'm a little behind in updating the blog link (what with a writers conference and a 40th birthday party weekend to enjoy!) but I'd love for you to join me.

I'm so thankful...

• For my husband of almost 15 years who gets me, even when I don't get myself.
• For family and friends who celebrated with us.
• For the way earthly joys awaken that place in our hearts created for eternity and leave us longing for the time when we will all be together...no more death, no more tears, no more loved ones missing from the party.
• For mist dancing at dawn on a quiet lake.
• For birds, bullfrogs, and bugs letting me listen in on their morning song to our Creator.

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Motherhood does not make me special

For the month of May, I’m going to be focusing on motherhood—the joys and challenges unique to this particular calling. But before I do, I want to make one thing clear.

Motherhood does not make me special.

I know. Mother’s Day is in six days. (For the men who read my blog—and I really appreciate that you do—you have six days. Get cracking.) I’m all in favor of taking a day to honor mothers.

But there are a lot of women who are not mothers. Some by choice. Some by circumstance. Some okay with it. Some heartbroken.

I live in the kind of place where the norm is for a girl to go to college, get married, work for at least a few years, and have some babies.

And I said the norm not because that’s what every woman does, but because that seems to be the expectation.

Now, I’m not going to talk about how any woman should be content in her singleness. Or how any woman should be patient as she waits for a child she longs to hold. I wouldn’t go there because if I did, any one in those circumstances could point to me and say, “What do you know about it?”

And they would be right. I met my husband at nineteen. Got married at twenty-three. Had our first child at twenty-eight. Then quit my job as engineer to stay home with her and the little brothers who followed.

What I am going to talk about it this…motherhood does not make me any more special than any other child of God. My role as "mom" does not grant me special access to God or endow me with super-sensitive spiritual hearing. I do not believe that motherhood provides some sort of inside track to closeness to God or that God keeps special “behind the scenes” insights that are for parents only.

God uses whatever circumstance we find ourselves in to reveal Himself to us.

For me, He often uses the triumphs and challenges of motherhood to speak to my heart. But for you, it might be the joys and frustrations in your work environment or the difficulties that your neighbors present on a daily basis. If you're a single woman over the age of 21, it might be the aggravation of dealing with that friend of your mother’s who wants to know when you’re going to “find you a good man to settle down with” or asks “isn’t it about time you had a baby” every time you see her.

(Side rant: So help me, the next time someone says that, I’m going to throw a New Testament at them and ask them if they’ve ever read the part that says it’s better not to marry. I know some singles who are changing the world for the Kingdom and all anyone can do is wonder why they aren’t married. Burns me up. OK. Rant over.)

So…I’m inviting you—single, married, widowed, divorced, lots of kids, no kids, male, or female—to join me this month. My theme may be motherhood, but my desire is not to make you wish you were a mommy, too.

It’s to encourage you to long to know your Savior more.

Join me?

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Are you taking the Joy Dare with me? Since November 1, 2011, I've counted over 600 graces...
May 7th - Three gifts about your home...The view from my bedroom window; the soft carpet upstairs; the people I share it with

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Thoughtful Thursdays ~ Christian Writers Guild Courses

I will forever be thankful for the four months I spent taking Fiction that Sells through the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild.

I'm talking about that today over at The Write Conversation. Please stop by and say hello!

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Mindful Mondays ~ Lonely

image courtesy of photobucket.com

How do you feel about reruns? I like them. Sometimes I catch things I didn't see the first time through. I hope you feel the same way because today's blog is a rerun. This post originally appeared in June of 2010.


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Do you ever think no one knows what your life is like?

Or ever wonder how it is possible to be surrounded by people and still feel lonely?

I do.

And sometimes I get rather grouchy about it. I start thinking that no one should be expected to carry my workload. I fume that I don’t get nearly enough credit for everything I do. My fuming then turns into self-righteous indignation - someone, somewhere, should notice for crying out loud!

I think at a very deep level, all of us want to be noticed. We long to be known. And I’m not sure that in and of itself, the longing is wrong. It becomes wrong when we expect the people around us to fill a hole they can never fill.

There is no husband who can appreciate me enough, no friend who can always be there, no parent/sibling/child who will never leave me.

There is no person on earth who can meet my every need. And no one who can even come close to understanding what my life is like, what my burdens are, what frightens me to the point of tears and what brings me a joy no words can express.

But there is One who can.

El Roi.

The God who Sees.

Oh how I love that particular attribute of my Heavenly Father. When I am scraping puke off a blanket and trying desperately not to throw up, He sees. When I am watching the same episode of Sesame Street for the gazillionth time, He sees. When I have to say no to doing something I would love to do because it’s not the best choice for my kids, He sees. When I see children my daughter’s age doing things my daughter will never do and it breaks my heart but I smile anyway, He sees.

Did you know that the first and only person in the Bible to refer to God as El Roi was a woman? A pregnant slave who felt, and was, all alone. And God revealed Himself to her as the God who Sees.

Sometimes, what I need more than anything else is to remember that the someone, somewhere, who sees me, is the God of the Universe. The One who was, and is, and is to come. The One who has written my story. The One who orders my days. The One who loved me so much, He sent His only Son to die for me.

My El Roi sees me.

And I am never alone.

So she called the name of the LORD who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me.” Genesis 16:13 (ESV)

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Thoughtful Thursdays ~ Book Review: I Used to Be So Organized by Glynnis Whitwer

I'm a pretty organized person.

Or.

Um.

I used to be.

Before.

Before having a baby. And then another one. And another one. And then moving when the last one was three weeks old.

(Sidebar: I do NOT recommend moving with a newborn. Avoid at all costs).

I miss my old organized self. I miss knowing where everything is.

I had to find my little boy's social security card this week. I won't bore you with the details of the search. Suffice it to say it was long.

Very long.

And it's that kind of thing that irks me most. Wasting time and energy because I can't find something. Or wasting money and resources because I buy something...I ALREADY OWN! Of course, I find the duplicate object a week or so after I've used the new one and can't return it.

So when I had an opportunity to review a new book, I Used to Be So Organized by Glynnis Whitwer, I was all over it.

I Used to be So Organized has chapters on organizing your closets, your kitchen and your toys your kid's toys. There's a great chapter on meal planning and quite a bit of time devoted to managing the technology that enhances our lives and distracts our minds.

If you need detailed instructions to help you tackle your bulging pantry, there's no shame in that. And I Used to be So Organized will take you through it one shelf at a time.

But to be honest, I don't need step-by-step instructions on how to tackle organizing an overflowing linen closet. I'm naturally gifted in that area. (Some might say I'm naturally annoying in that area, but let's not quibble over semantics). I know how to do it. I even - don't shoot me - enjoy it.

Turns out, I'm what Glynnis calls "Situationally Disorganized." My "situation" (new baby, new house) has led to a state of disorder that is driving me crazy. As she puts it, "When I find myself in a place of situational disorganization, I'm usually frustrated. I'm not frustrated with anyone in particular, except myself for not being able to pull it together."

At this point, I was pretty sure she'd bugged my house.

She goes on. "That's when I need to apply God's grace to myself."

That line may be the best piece of advice in the whole book.

And that is what I loved about I Used to Be So Organized. While it's full of organization tips, good for both the situationally and the chronically disorganized, Glynnis Whitwer bases everything on a solid Biblical foundation.

My highlighter got a workout on the chapters about setting reasonable expectations and establishing priorities. There were many "a-ha" moments, but these words had the most impact on me at this time in my life.

"I wish someone had told me that God would not forget me, that I was right where he wanted me and that I should relax, accept my new normal, and see the opportunities he had placed in front of me."

I Used to Be So Organized isn't just about cleaning out from under your bed and there's no call to keep your home in a perpetual state of "photo-shoot readiness." It's about organizing your life. Not so you can check something else off your to-do list, but so you can fulfill the calling God has laid on your heart.

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Mindful Mondays ~ Morning Glory

I miss sleep.

Oh, how I miss it.

I miss going to bed and having every expectation that I will not be disturbed until my alarm blares. Or the neighbor’s rooster gets cranked up. Whichever comes first.

I miss waking up refreshed.

These days, when I wake up—never of my own accord—every cell in my body joins in a protest march.

I picture them with tiny picket signs as they work to put my sleep deprived body in motion.

“More sleep!” “Two more hours.” “Stop the madness!” “Are you crazy, woman?”

Their threats are simple. They want more sleep, but if I refuse, they demand an immediate caffeine infusion or—and they’ve made good on this threat—they will shut me down.

To make matters worse, I’m not a morning person. If I had my way, I’d go to bed around midnight and sleep until eight.

And all would be right with the world.

Instead, I go to bed sometime before midnight if I’m lucky, get up at least once or twice to soothe the baby, sometimes once or twice to feed the baby, and then somewhere around 6AM, I hear tiny feet approach.

“You still sleep mommy?”
“Yes.”
“I want Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in mommy’s bed.”
“Of course you do.”

Somehow, my two-year old misses the sarcasm and climbs in the bed chattering at full volume about rocket ships and jet packs and requests for milk and a banana.

Once I’m awake, the demands of the day invade my mind and while a permeating exhaustion remains, sleep flees.

In an unexpected and stunning development, I’ve discovered that, once properly “coffeinated” (I made that up—do you like it?), I enjoy watching the day begin, especially if I can be outside as the sky fades from gray to blue.

And there’s an intangible delight in spending time with the Lord before the insanity that is my daily life begins.

So much so, that I find on the rare day when I get to sleep in and start my day a couple of hours later, while my body appreciates the sleep, my spirit misses the atmosphere of the earlier hours.

I’ve always dismissed those "morning" verses. You know the ones I’m talking about. Psalms is full of them. Not to mention the example we have from Jesus (and no one's "busy" life can compare to His). So much talk about “early in the morning” and “rising before dawn” — it’s enough to give any self-respecting night owl nightmares.

But I’m starting to wonder if they were on to something. 

If maybe getting up early and spending some time with the Lord as the day is dawning has advantages I’ve never fully appreciated.

It means sacrificing some sleep (I can feel the picket line forming), but the benefits are worth it.

Give it a try . . . you just might like it. And if you do, tell us about it in the comments.

Psalm 5:3 ~ O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for you and watch. (ESV)

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Mindful Mondays ~ A Little Too Soon?

Image by ant.photos via FlickrAs I ran a few errands last week, a car pulled out in front of me.

He could have waited, but it wasn’t close enough to warrant laying down on the horn, so I let it go. (As if I could do anything about it in the first place).

But then things got a little . . . disturbing.

First, the driver didn’t seem to feel the need to pick up the pace. He meandered to the next road and turned right.

Too bad for me, I had to follow.

For the next mile, the driver developed close relationships with both the middle and right lines. His speed alternated between negative - ok, so that’s not possible - we'll say really, really, really, really slow (happy now?) and very slow.

It didn’t take long for me to decide to maintain a healthy distance from this moron, idiot, individual. Especially since his head would, for several seconds at at time, disappear from view as he reached for some lost object which seemed to be in the floorboard of the passenger seat.

In dismay, I watched as he turned onto the interstate, and once again, I followed.

We survived a dicey merge into traffic and then the debate began. Should I stay back or should I take the first opportunity to weld his doors shut in my 2001 minivan?

After observing his driving prowess, I knew there was a chance he would choose to use the left lane while I was in it, but decided it was safer to get around him than risk being involved in the multi-car pileup this guy was prepping for.

As I pressed my flipflop to the floor and zipped (yes, you can zip in a mini-van) by, I couldn’t resist taking a peak at the object of my derision.

I can’t tell you much about him.

I sorta panicked when I realized the guy was cleaning his glasses.

Sweet mercy!

After I’d put a few miles between us, I started wondering about him. If he’d taken a few more minutes to prepare, he would have been ready for the drive. He could have retrieved the lost object from the floorboard, cleaned his glasses, waited for me to drive past before pulling out, and still arrived at his destination with time to spare. And without putting everyone in his path in danger while he was at it.

It made me wonder about myself and my journey.

Am I rushing into things I’m not ready for? If I took a little bit longer to prepare, would the way be smoother, for me and for those who are with me on this road?

Is it possible that what I see as a closed door, God sees as a speed bump?

A little hindrance, not to stop me from reaching my goals, but to slow me down so I have time to learn and prepare for what He has in store for me?

Instead of fighting the limitations inherent in my current stage of life, I’m trying to embrace them. (Hey, I said trying.) Instead of wasting energy plotting ways to escape, I’m trying to enjoy where I am. Instead of moping over each rejection, I’m trying to rest in His timing.

How about you? Do you feel like you’re spinning your wheels?

Maybe God’s holding on to your bumper.

Maybe He’s planning to let you go, just not yet.

Maybe it’s just a little too soon.

Psalm 25:1-5 ~ To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul. O my God, in you I trust; let me not be put to shame; let not my enemies exult over me. Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame; they shall be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous. Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long. (ESV)

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Thoughtful Thursdays ~ Book Review: Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver

I am a total Martha.

Not Martha Stewart. Trust me. The decorating gene chuckled, laughed, snorted hysterically as it skipped by me.

I’m talking about Martha. From the Bible.

I am often “anxious and troubled about many things” and I am not above pointing out to God that “Hey, I’m busting my tail here and some people aren’t pulling their weight. Why don’t you make them step up?”

(That last part comes from the LSV—Lynn’s Satirical Version—I think Luke may have been a friend of Martha’s and was cutting her a little slack).

I’m a total Martha.

But I long to be a Mary.

I want to sit at His feet.

I want Jesus to say about me “She has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

If you can relate, then you need to read Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver.

I read this book six or seven years ago. It stomped my toes then. I re-read it this summer and once again, found it both convicting and encouraging.

In fact, it was while reading this book that my “quiet time” took on a consistency and meaning that I have never experienced before. (I put quiet time in quotes because with three children, quiet isn’t necessarily the most accurate word…I’ve blogged about this here).

Joanna Weaver writes from the position of a fellow “Martha” and she asserts that God doesn’t expect all of the Marthas of the world to change into Marys. On the contrary, we Marthas are key servants in the Kingdom.

But we need to learn when to serve and when to sit. When to work and when to worship.

We need to have a Mary heart in a Martha world.

Luke 10:38-42 ~ Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” (ESV)

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Mindful Mondays ~ Future Fears

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Deuteronomy 31:8 ~ It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (ESV)

Some people wish they could know the future.

Not me.

If I spent too much time thinking about my future, I’d lose my mind.

For one thing, there’s so much cancer in my family, I’m a statistic waiting to happen.

Then there's the fact that my husband is a financial advisor. Yes, you read that right. So don't even get me started on the stock market.

And while you may fret over your empty nest—either current or future—I don’t expect my nest to ever be empty. Instead, I prepare to care and provide for a child for many years after my own passing.

And those are just a couple of my “biggies”. You have your own.

I try not to dwell on what my life will look like twenty years from now, but I recently heard about a situation that terrified me. It's one of those things where the consequences of other’s actions could have a significant impact on my life.

My stomach clenched into a knot that I couldn’t shake. I spent an embarrassing amount of time allowing my mind to wander into the future. I imagined one wretched scenario after another. (This is a problem with being a writer—I spend a lot of time making things worse and worse for my characters. When I start doing it to myself, it’s scary).

I eventually gave up and started praying about it. (Yes, I realize I should have started there. And yes, I should know better by now).

As I prayed, these words flew through my mind.

"It is the LORD who goes before you."

I clung to this truth and as I focused on Him, anxiety lost its grip. The potential calamity didn’t change but my fear of it lessened.

In Deuteronomy, God didn’t say the conquering of Canaan would be easy. He didn’t say the Israelites would never face difficulty. He said He would go before them and never leave them. And after He said that, He said, “Do not fear or be dismayed.”

I don’t know what’s looming in your life.

It may be scary. You may be terrified.

But you are not alone.

It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; He will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

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Mindful Mondays ~ Retail Therapy

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I love my children.

I do.

But some days, by the time Brian gets home, I need to get out. And by out, I mean out of the house, by myself.

Brian learned this long ago, when Emma was still a baby. Sometimes the best thing he can say to me is “Go”.

So a few weeks ago, he said “Go” and “Go” I went (Marvin K. Mooney anyone?).

It was already after 8PM so I made two necessary stops for groceries and then decided to hit Kohl’s for a little retail therapy before they closed.

Now, admittedly, this was a dangerous move. I’ve just had my third child and I wasn’t skinny to begin with. Who knew what size I’d have to buy? But sometimes, a new outfit can put a spring in my step and I decided to risk it.

I meandered through the limited petite section—I’m not skinny but I am short—and picked up a few shirts and a couple of capris that looked promising.

Just as I started for the fitting rooms, my phone rang.

When I answered, I didn’t need to ask why Brian was calling.

I could hear Drew.

Brian’s no wimp and he’s more than capable of taking care of our children. I knew he wouldn’t have called unless Drew was inconsolable.

But I was still ticked.

All I wanted was an hour to myself. Maybe a new outfit. Instead, I stopped where I was, put the clothes on the nearest rack, race-walked out of the store and sped home.

By the time I walked in the door, Drew was asleep.

I felt cheated.

The next morning, after getting up three times during the night to feed Drew, sending Emma off on the bus and dropping James at preschool, I decided to try again. Maybe, since I’d already looked the night before, I could find the clothes quickly, try them on, and get out of there before Drew needed to eat again.

I pushed the stroller to the Petite department and as I turned the corner, I couldn’t believe my eyes. All the clothes I had picked out the night before were still together, hanging right where I had left them.

Now, you might think it was a coincidence. But you didn’t hear the little voice that whispered “I know, honey” as I stared at my selections, waiting on me to come back for them.

Sometimes, motherhood means sacrifice. Big things and small things. And it’s easy to think no one notices or cares.

But God is always paying attention.

I thought I’d been robbed of my “me” time. But God used it to remind me that He’s always watching. He always sees.

It was His version of retail therapy.

And then—and really, I think He was showing off with this one—the clothes fit.

I bought them all.

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