A Habit of the Soul

I haven't ran for two weeks. A chest cold has grabbed a hold of me and even though I laced up my shoes and thought I could, a coughing spell hit before I reached the end of the driveway.

I long to move, to walk, to run, just a few miles  -- out and back. 

The only reason I long for this is because I'm used to it. I'm used to exercise being a regular part of my routine. Now that it's not happening, I miss it.

Soon, I'll stop wanting to exercise. The routine will be broken and my body won't crave it.

This is true for my soul too.

David's soul thirsts for God because he has a habit of seeking God. The more we seek God, the more we want to seek God. It's a habit our souls crave more and more. If I'm not wanting to seek God, then I know something is amiss in my soul. 

And it can only be solved by seeking God.

A Test of Obedience

Rembrandt [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I have a hard time reading Genesis 22. The part Rembrandt depicts here, I can handle that part of the story. It's the comforting part, the relief part, the it's-all-okay part. It's the whole story before the happy ending that's hard for me.

Genesis 22 is the story of God testing Abraham's obedience. God says, "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains of which I shall tell you" (Genesis 22:2).

Even though I know the story well, I always reread this command. It makes me pause because of everything Abraham doesn't do. Abraham doesn't question the goodness of God. He doesn't argue with the command. He doesn't barter or beg.

He simply obeys

I know God is good...but I don't know it like Abraham does.

Abraham's faith makes my faith look like a speck of dust.

He trusted in the goodness of God so much that he was willing to sacrifice his own son.

Without hesitation.
Without apprehension.
Without confusion.

He simply obeys.

And Isaac follows. They travel for three days. Isaac carries the wood for the burnt offering while Abraham brings the fire and the knife.

In the text there is no indication of bitterness or fear. It is pure, radical, rapid obedience.

Isaac questions the lack of an animal for the burnt offering. Abraham replies, "God will provide" (Genesis 22: 7-8). They continue climbing the mountain.

When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built the altar there and laid the wood in order and bound Isaac his son and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to slaughter his son. (Genesis 22:9-10)

No matter how many times I read this holy text, at this point, I still squeeze my eyes shut and think, He's really going to do it.

It's this resolve that landed Abraham a mention in Hebrews 11. There, it is revealed that Abraham believed God would bring Isaac back to life. Abraham never ceased to believe in the goodness of God.

He trusted God so much, that no matter the appointment, he would obey. God needed to know this. It is why he tested Abraham's obedience (v. 1).

And it is why this story is hard for me. God wants our unconditional obedience and he will test it by asking for the things we love most. If I live with a faith like Abraham's, then I know:

God will provide.
God is good.
God loves me.

It wasn't until Abraham raised the knife that God intervened. It wasn't enough for him to gather wood or to start the journey or to build the altar. God wanted to be sure of Abraham's obedience, positive of his heart.

It reminds me of a trust fall -- God style.

At the last moment, God catches Abraham. Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me. Abraham raises his eyes and in the brush is a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns (Genesis 22:12-13).

The Bible is intended to be read as a whole. This story is illuminated in Romans 8:32.

He who did not spare his own son, but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?

It is about radical obedience and trusting God, knowing that God gave up his own son for me. If He is willing to do this, then He is willing to graciously give all things.

We know that for those who love God all things work together for good for those who are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

Abraham loved God so much that he simply obeyed. His courage and faith and trust in the goodness of God is inspiring.

Slowing Down: A Curated List

I've sat down to write several times today and instead I've been rereading a lot of past blog posts that have to do with slowing down. I decided to curate them here, organized by date, according to title, and a snippet of the post.

Celebrate This Week LII (11 October 2014): I celebrate slowing down. The world likes to tell me that I should do more. I'm learning this isn't always a Truth. The world likes to tell me if I'm not doing everything, then I'm not enough.

The Ketchup Incident (07 October 2014): You have enough time. I have to remind myself of this often. I constantly fight the lie of the world that says there is not enough time.


Slow Down for Fresh Strength (09 March 2014): What if we slow down and instead of lagging behind, we soar? Imagine a world filled with people soaring -- people filled with energy because they weren't exhausted from rushing. And it all begins with slowing down. 

Choose Happy (19 November 2013):  I think the world likes to tell us that we can find happiness by doing this thing or getting that thing. I don’t believe happiness has to do with anything I have or can get. Happiness is a choice. Or maybe it is a bunch of little choices that add up to being positioned to accept happiness.

Not Too Busy (07 November 2013): Too Busy. These words have a tendency to raise my hackles. I don't ever want to be too busy. I think too busy means I'm missing real life. Too busy means I'm swept up by the current panic or the flashy trend. Too busy means I'm surviving. Life should be more than survival.

Ordinary (11 October 2013): The ordinary events that make up this little life can seem so mundane. Yet, when I position myself to find the beauty and the joy, I am able to slow down and realize the ordinary moments lead to the best celebrations. It is here that I shine. And you do to. If we each celebrate our own ordinary, the world would be much lighter.

Be Not Do (25 September 2013): I don't have to do anything. I just have to be.

Real Life Now (17 September 2013): I don't want to be overwhelmed because we have a full schedule or because dinner dirtied a few pans or because the showers are lasting a little past bedtime. Instead, I want my joy to overflow with the giggles bursting and the arms tight around my waist hugging and Andy's eyes sparkling because we're in this together and even when they are grouchy and we are in passing vehicles, this family life is very good.

Do Less (16 July 2013):  So today I will do less in order to make room for more. It might just be about my state of mind, rather than the things I do. Instead of thinking about the next thing, wondering how I'll get it all done, I'll focus on more giggles and more stories and more tastes of cookie dough from not-so-stealthy little hands. Because this day is too precious to fill it up with stuff. Instead, doing less will preserve it more.

Lighthearted (23 March 2013): Mistakes are part of life. I'm learning to live in the midst of them and still shine. I can do this by choosing cheer. 

Enamored (04 March 2013):  I think this world could use more people being enamored with people. You know, to be completely taken, totally blown away by how remarkable someone is. Simply being enchanted by another person.


Cutting Back (20 November 2012): I know cutting back often results in stronger, more substantial, and deeper roots. I believe less is more. I'm confident this isn't giving up, but rather growing out of my old writer skin.

Stop (26 June 2012):  Instead I'm going to pause. Linger. Piddle. Be slow. Otherwise, I'm going to crash. Sometimes it gets to the point where we just have to stop.

Mission STORY (12 February 2012): Story is organic. Constantly living and changing and adapting. I like this. I like how we can collect snippets of our past and weave them into a tale. Then we continue living and telling our story and it weaves around, revealing more. Understanding more. Connecting more.

Tasting (10 January 2012): As I'm remembering how to taste my food, I'm also learning how to taste the words I put on the page. I will patiently wait for everything to come together in order to savor life.


Mission STORY (29 November 2011): Writing makes me slow down and soak in the moments I would otherwise forget. Writing makes me appreciate this perfectly ordinary little life of mine. Writing forces me to look life in the eyes and live it for real.

Summer Days (26 July 2011):  Living is more than doing, sometimes it's in the useless moments where the treasures lurk. 

Connect (21 June 2011): Connections are essential to humans. When I connect, my life is sweeter.

Answered Prayers = Awe

Whenever Andy and I make a major decision, we make sure we are in agreement. I wanted to pursue adoption long before Andy, but we didn't move forward on that journey until we both agreed. He knew it was an affirmative to adopt the girls before I did. We didn't say yes, though, until we both agreed. For Jay, we felt the call at the same time to pursue another adoption.

Our house is another example. We searched for more than two years for a home to buy. It wasn't until we decided to look in this town where we live now that we were in agreement. Looking for two years and then suddenly -- swirl and blink -- and we were homeowners within just a few days of seeing the house for the first time.

Three weeks ago I shared an idea with Andy about a major decision regarding one of our kids. He was totally against it. In fact, I was a little taken aback by how strongly he felt against the idea. I almost took the idea, folded it tiny, and shoved it into the closet in the back of my mind. Maybe I was wrong about this idea.

But it didn't feel right.

So I prayed. I prayed that Andy and I would have the same heart for the situation. I asked for our hearts to be changed, to be in agreement, to be together and aligned with the will of God. I asked two friends to pray also.

I expected my heart to be released, to realize I was being overly sensitive.

I wish I wasn't so surprised this morning when Andy told me he changed his mind. He wasn't against the idea, nor was he just going along because he thought that's what I wanted.

He wanted to think more about the same idea as me.

I don't want to be surprised when God answers a prayer. I pray in faith, expecting God to move. It's not so much that I'm shocked when prayers are answered, but I'm surprised by the way they are answered. In this case, I was sure it was my heart that needed to change.

Perhaps it is awe that I am experiencing.

The Creator of the universe cares about me. He cares about the decisions Andy and I are making for our kids. He cares enough to change hearts in order to lead us in the direction of His will.

Yes, we should stand in awe as prayers are answered and lives are altered.

And I can't help but wonder if perhaps we miss answered prayers because the answer doesn't come as we expect. Sometimes the answer can be a completely different package. God has a history of accomplishing His will in unexpected ways.

The Savior of the world spent his first night on earth in a manger.
David beat Goliath with a sling shot.
Saul went blind so he could see the truth.
Multitudes were fed with two fish and five loaves of bread.

I'm learning to pray continually and expectantly. It is my hope when prayers are answered my surprise with turn to awe. Surprise is an emotion that stems from unbelief.

Awe, however, awe comes from audaciously trusting Jesus and knowing he loves you back.

I am a Story Collector

I collect stories.

The Bible is filled with really awful, horrible chapters of stories. Hard journeys of deceit and jealousy, murder and rape, exclusions and cover-ups.  If you take one of these chapters and hold it, study it, and try to make sense of it, you could easily miss the truth of Christianity.

The Bible isn't meant to be read as a chapter. It is meant to be read as a whole.

If you only read the chapter of Eve eating the forbidden apple, then you would miss the whole of her story, a beautiful story that tethers the God of creation to Jesus to the Holy Spirit. Eve's story is even part of my story today.

Our lives are the same way. We have horrible chapters in the midst our stories. Chapters of too hard and deceit and mistakes. There is danger in holding on to just a bit of the story.

This is why I am a story-collector and I think you should be one too.

My children have seen the worst of humanity while in biological and foster homes. Our stories are started before we are even born and then they are written moment by moment and breath by breath. Our brains are designed to make sense of the world by telling stories.

We own the stories that help us understand the world.

For a neglected child, the story might go -- No matter how loudly I cry, no one is going to take care of me. The only way to get what I need is to take it myself.

Another story goes like this -- The kids who have always lived in this house are loved the most. They get toys for birthdays and they get to hunt Easter eggs and they get to dress up for Halloween. Since I've just joined the family, I have to sit in my room during the festivities. Families love the kids more who are there the longest.

A story might go like this -- As long as I don't make any noise or eye contact, then I'm safe. They'll leave me alone.

The story can go like this -- If I make a mess, even if it's an accident, I better run away. If I'm not around, then I won't get hit.

Too many kids tell themselves -- I'm too dumb to be loved. I'm too annoying to be loved. I'm too messy to be loved.


Our brains cycle stories over and over in order to make sense of our experiences. Too often, the stories we tell ourselves are untrue. Unfortunately, our brains are unreliable and don't recognize an untrue story. All of the facts have congealed to give a version of the truth and our brains accept it, and make a story to confirm the untruth version of the facts.

I collect stories to document a different version. 

Too often when older children join a family, they are living out the untrue version of their stories. They bring a whole slew of unpleasant behaviors and harsh words. It's important to remember that this is only one chapter of their stories.

And it is an ugly chapter.

A forever family lives the ugly, so the story can be rewritten.

This is a beautiful truth: A story can always be rewritten.

That's what we learn from the ugly chapters in the Bible. The stories don't have to end ugly. David -- a man after God's own heart, a king, and part of the lineage of Jesus -- got another man's wife pregnant, tried to manipulate her husband, and when the husband refused to rest because he felt it was disloyal to his troops who were still in battle, David sent him to the front lines. It was an elaborate murder scheme. Once the man died, he then married his wife and she bore David a son. 2 Samuel 11 is one of those ugly chapters.

I'm glad David's story doesn't end there.


The beauty of the Bible lies in its entirety, just as the beauty of our lives lies in the whole journey. The story isn't finished and it doesn't have to be stuck in the ugly.

I pile stories as proof that a life doesn't have to be stuck in the ugly. I gather celebrations so they don't slip into the shadows. I muster the moments because together they help me to learn to love more.

I am a story collector so others can live a more beautiful version of their own story.

A Birthday Miracle with Donuts

"You're not going to believe this," Stephanie said at dinner tonight, then continued her story.

"After I finished passing out donuts to all of the kids in my homeroom and to Mrs. Collett, I was so excited about passing them out to other teachers, that I was in a hurry. So I went around and gave them all away. Everyone loved them. They really are the best donuts.

"Then I got back to my desk, all that was there was a napkin and no donut. I forgot to give myself a donut!"

I laughed, an all-out belly laugh. "Are you for real? You didn't get one of your own birthday donuts?"

She blushed and shook her head. "But Mrs. Collett shared some of her donut with me. I got half of one."

"Really? You forgot to give yourself a donut?" I was in complete disbelief.

Steph laughed. "I know, Mom. I forgot."

It's been seven years that we have battled with Stephanie about not having to always be first. Stephanie survived in life before she came home to our forever family by getting things first. She fought for first and biggest. Always.

Sometimes it's important to let others be first. There have been battles and fights and tears as we've helped her to learn being first isn't the most important.

At the same time, we've prayed that we wouldn't crush her independent spirit. Her strong-will has the potential to be beautiful and we didn't want simple compliance. We wanted to empower her to care about others and to realize life, when lived best, isn't about what you can get for yourself.

When we were buying the donuts for her to take to school, she insisted on her favorite kind. She insisted on the big donuts. She insisted on having extras to give away.

Forgetting herself because she was so excited to give donuts away is a miracle. I don't use this word lightly. Really, a miracle occurred in her homeroom class today.

Stephanie forgot about herself because of her acts of kindness to others.

I wasn't sure this would ever happen, that Steph would think about others before herself.

Jay was the catalyst for Stephanie's healing. He has helped her to see the power of putting others before yourself. He has helped her to accept the truth that when you think of others first, your life gets better

Stephanie is remarkable, not to mention spunky and carefree and hilarious.

When I think about her journey of learning to care for others, I think we get a glimpse of what Jesus intended when he said:

If any of you want to be my follower, you must stop thinking about yourself and what you want. You must be willing to carry the cross that is given to you for following me. Any of you who try to save the life you have will lose it. But you who give up your life for me will find true life. It is worth nothing for you to have the whole world if you yourself are lost. (Matthew 16:24-26)

 This is not an easy command. It goes against our human nature. We want easy, comfortable, first, and best. 

But this isn't what is most important to Jesus. To follow Jesus, we must deny ourselves and serve others. Next time I see a big glazed donut, I'm going to remember Steph and how sweet it is to persevere on a journey to learn to serve rather than to take.

{Birthday Dinner}

Moment by Minute by Day by Year

{Stephanie: 2008 & 2014}

The girls came home for the first time on the Friday before Easter 2008. On Saturday, my mom and I thought it would be fun to take them shopping to buy Easter shoes.

We were wrong.

Hannah, age six, only wanted high heels and pouted when we finally decided what pair to buy. Stephanie, age four, wanted more than one pair. She wanted every single pair. She refused to leave unless she got all of the shoes on the shelf.

She screamed.
Kicked.
Went limp.

Right.
In.
The.
Middle.
Of.
The.
Store.

Wailing. Flailing. Howling.

It wasn't fun.

I stood there, looking down on her wriggling body, hair sticking to her wet, red face, and wondering what to do next. I looked over at my mom. She was horrified.

I'm sure it didn't take years to get Stephanie out of the store, but it felt like it. I knew it was irrational to think we would never go shopping together again. It would, however, be a long time until I took her without Andy as backup.

On Black Friday, we went shopping for new dress clothes for Steph. Stephanie is a five foot, eight inch, one hundred and sixty pound ten year old. Finding a perfect outfit is a challenge. Even finding jeans and a sweatshirt can be an all out hunt, let alone finding dress clothes.

I'm happy to report that I no longer need to take Andy for backup when we go shopping. There were no fits in the middle of stores. There wasn't even backtalk or eye rolls. In fact, it was...

Fun.

Someone even commented how sweet and polite my daughter was (!).

I smiled and said, "Thank you."

Two words don't even come close to the whole story. I told Andy about the woman's comment in the store. "At least there are some days," Andy said.

This is what matters most. There are some days when she is respectful. There was a time when we just hoped for minutes.

Moments of respect.

Minutes without defiance.

Yes, we counted minutes. I set the timer and Stephanie would see if she could go 3 minutes and be respectful the entire time. Over the next six weeks we worked our way up to 10 minute stints. It was a challenge and more often than not she failed to be respectful for an entire 10 minutes.

Six years and the fact that there are whole entire, even multiple, days of respect is nothing short of a miracle.

This is what healing looks like. It's not always instant, but it is always powerful. She is healing, moment by minute by day by year. Her tongue is still sharp, but her heart is learning respect.

It's one of many things that makes her beautiful.

What's First?

Stephanie lost her temper and the large canister of zip ties used to secure Christmas decorations spiraled across the room. Hundreds of zip ties were strewn from the foot of the stairs to the front of the fireplace. While she screamed and stomped away, I hastily shoved handfuls of zip ties back into the canister.

They didn't fit.

It looked like a shrewd cactus standing in the middle of a game of Pick-Up-Sticks. She'll pick them up when she simmers down. The thought of her completing this tedious task may have felt like sweet justice.

Later, Steph sat on the floor picking up hundreds of zip ties. Methodically she organized them by size. Then, starting with the biggest ties, she began filling the canister. In the end, she stuffed the smallest zip ties into the empty spaces.

All of them fit.

Watching her, I was reminded how I want to live this holiday season and every other day of the year. I want to take the biggest, most important things each day and put them in first. Then everything else will just seem to fit.

I'm often asked, "How do you do it all?"

The honest answer: I don't.

But I do make an intentional decision about my first of the day. This is the way I get the most out of each day.

My first of the day goes to Jesus. I've learned to wake up saying, I love you, Jesus. Then I swipe off my alarm, grab my glasses, and open Scripture on my phone. Sometimes I open Scripture before I grab my glasses, the screen touching my nose so I can see the sacred text. Often I open scripture before I turn on the light.

Even when I've hit snooze too many times, I still read a verse of holy text.

I've learned the hard way that if I don't do this first, if I don't begin with adoration and scripture and a small prayer, then nothing else fits into the day. I'm feeling like that canister of overflowing zip ties, standing in the middle of a Pick-Up-Stick game.

The day becomes a mine field and I'm a prickly soldier.

One simple act and the entire day changes from rushed to relaxed, from dark to light, from stress to joy. It's not about having enough time. It's about deciding what goes in first to your day. Try it. See what happens if the first thing you read each day is Scripture.

Don't water down the power by going for something inspirational instead of biblical. Do a true test. Read a verse of Scripture -- use a Bible app or open to Psalms or Proverbs or James or 1 Thessalonians or anywhere and read a few holy words.

I've found when I fit Jesus in first each day then all of the must-dos and want-to-dos just seem to fit. And when they don't, well, it's easier for me to accept that perhaps my plan just isn't the way it's going to go. Either way, I'm better off for putting first the One who is biggest in life.

Stories for Advent

For the past few years I have intentionally written less during the season of advent. I’ve shifted my writing habits to focus on the meaning of Christmas, to thicken my faith, and strengthen my family. Just because something has become a habit, doesn’t mean that it continues to be the right choice.

This advent season I will be writing daily. I will celebrate advent with stories. Advent begins four Sundays before Christmas. This year it will begin November 30 and end on Christmas Eve. Along with opening the advent calendar door each day, I will also be piling words on the page.

We use our advent calendar as inspiration to make life pleasant. Behind each door we find things like: Make fudge and give some to a friend…Drink a cup of something warm and listen to Christmas music…Go sledding…Take a picture of your favorite holiday sight…Put on your jammies, get your quilt, and get in the car – we’re going to look at Christmas lights!

This advent season, much like Lent 2014, I feel compelled to collect stories. Rather than giving up writing to rest and celebrate a favorite season, I will be giving stories as a means of celebration.

I’m excited for what will come from this act of obedience. I hope we will all be blessed in sweet, unexpected ways.