Bound to be Good

Mom & Me.

This is our third Christmas in the home we share. It's quite simple, just not always easy.

The unconditional commitment similar to an adoption. The "till death do us part, in sickness and in health" vibes like a marriage. The character-shaping complexities that accompany any mother and daughter dance.

These are the ties that bind.

Our differences are sizeable:

*Her hair almost always looks perfect. Mine almost never does. 

*She has jewelry specific to each outfit. I will wear the same pearl necklace until it breaks and then buy another one very much like it. 

*She follows recipes, dirties dozens of dishes and tools, and sets the oven timer. I pour and stir in one container with one spoon and play it by ear. 

*She loves Hallmark movies. I can't. 

*I love chunky guac. She cannot.

But do you know what we have in common? We are cute. Duh. Plus also we are serious about prayer and patience. And when each of us perceived an invitation from God to step out in faith to partner with one another come what may, we both had the courage to say yes. 

Is it clunky? Yes.

Are we gaining flexibility and strength? Yes.

Are there miscommunications? Yes.

Is there laughter and good food? Yes.

Are there days when each of us low-key longs for the greener grass from our separate yards? Yes, I'm afraid we do.

But then from separate closets, we return to our senses and remember Who we live for and suddenly we feel these ties that bind. Sturdy cords of mercy and love hold us together when all else fails.

God is with us and for us, and He is sure to receive the glory.

Bound to be good.

By And By

I didn't know Mrs. Joyce very well. I've been in her home a few times, and eaten her food on occasion, but I've hung out with her kids on purpose several times. 

Her kids are so great, and based on cumulative hours spent at her house, my husband basically qualifies as one of her kids.

Mrs. Joyce passed away yesterday, and I am sad. I see how sad my husband is. I hear how sad her family is. And even at a distance, I share in this deep sorrow because she was was such a bright light.

The first Christmas that Philip and I were dating (which was incidentally three weeks before our wedding I can explain that craziness later) we stopped by Mrs. Joyce's house. It smelled like a friendly blend of warm cinnamon and garlic. There was foil-covered food blanketing the stove top and surrounding counters. Everyone was in athletic wear. The soap in the hall bathroom was the good stuff. 

Adult kids lounged on the arms of sofas and recliners while a fluffy, fat cat eased into and around all the discussion. Football was on, but you couldn't hear the announcers for all the chatty laughter. The drapes flanking the sliding glass door were as thick and rich as the southern accents, and the leftover pumpkin pie was almost as sweet as the lady who served it.

She insisted that I sit on the couch beside her and she asked me questions about the wedding. She told me how much she adored Philip, and how long she had felt that way. Even now, 28 years later, I can see her wide smile and hear the happy smack of her laughter coupled with the simultaneous jangle of earrings and bracelets. She giggled easily and continued to gently touch my arm or knee or hand the whole time we talked.

As I stood insecure at the threshold of adulthood, she was "goals". I wished in my heart that God would miraculously make me sweet enough to open my home wide and often; that he would bless me with loads of leftovers, good soap in the hall bath, and plenty of people to play football in the front yard. 

Oh, for the grace to fold folks into my tribe the way Joyce did for Philip and me. As she loved others with hospitality and prayer, she planted seeds of belonging and joy, and her life pointed us to Jesus. Her life continues to point us to Jesus. That is exactly where our focus is now, as she rests in His loving arms having served Him well.

RESeT with Us!!

Not sure what it's all about?

Here's the scoop!

It's going to be so good!

Join the next Five-Day Change-It-Up Challenge!

Sign up here: December 26-30, 2021: RESeT

All the Way

You know how some dates just leave a stain in your memory? When somebody left, or something was lost, or maybe it was just the most horrible Thursday you could ever imagine.

For whatever the reason, you remember the date. Like sharpie on your soul it becomes a marker . . . a measuring point . . . and a makeshift altar.

I'm pausing at this Ebenezer for reflection . . . sticks and stones . . . brokenness . . . a breaking away, a laying down, and a miraculous building back up.

Redemption is a journey and healing is a process.

This is what I wrote to a friend when she asked how I was [really] doing about halfway through this revolution:

There is just a rising river of grief with a swift and unpredictable current that I simply must cross. 

No one is chasing me, there is rest on the other side, but for now I just can't relax ... I.must.keep.walking.

My hands are high, holding important things above the stream of ruin. My core is flexed, and my feet are cold (realities of faith and issues of trust).

But I am not alone, and this temporary challenge has a purpose: my ultimate good and God's eternal glory. 

This is the song that ushered me across:

"Sometimes sorrow is the door to peace

Sometimes heartache is the gift I need

You're faithful, faithful

In all things

You're still my rock, my hope remains

I'll rest in the arms of Jesus

Come what may"

This morning, "Goodness of God" served as my usual confession on my solitary commute. I pushed play in the silence. 

Just as Cece and I began to sing (man, I'm telling you, we are pretty fantastic together - she has literally no idea) , I thought of the day and the year and all I could do was marvel at how far we've come - my Savior and I. 

At the chorus my voice cracked, and out rushed an emotional mix of warm tears and fresh faith, and I could barely get the words all the way out . . . but I sang them believing, broken and bold. 

"All my life You have been faithful. All my life You have been so, so good."

RESeT

Something had to change.

Last January I took a break from social media. I wasn't sure how hooked I was, but I could sense an unhealthy preoccupation. Once I deleted the apps, out of habit I still slid one screen and tapped the top right app every time I opened my phone. Muscle memory glitched for a couple days. 

The noticeable hiccups were when I thought of something, or when my kids did something funny ... it was like a tree falling in a forest. If no one on social media saw it and laughed, was it really funny?

Without a daily alert of birthdays across the country,  I was limited to sending well-wishes to friends and family whose birthday was already in my calendar or consciousness.

All our January birthdays and our anniversary were celebrated in the quiet, undocumented vibrance of real life.

I started texting photos and some of my musings to individual friends. I enjoyed the chatting that resulted from my need to be heard.

I started asking people how they were doing and checking in with a wider array of friends. I enjoyed the connection that resulted from my desire to hear from others.

I read books and wrote essays, and organized my closet. I took walks and worked puzzles and wondered what I was missing. And, I started watching TV, which I do not enjoy, but it was an easy filler for those mindless moments of vegetative lounging.

I read the Bible every day. I was present with my kids. I'd like to say I began to floss, but that would be a lie. There is so little hope for me in that area.

Eventually, several weeks later, I reloaded the apps and enjoyed freshly appointed boundaries like "only on Friday night and saturday" or "not while kids are awake". 

One little taste of freedom helped me to reconsider the habits I had coasted into, and to recommit to better manage my media consumption. In May, several friends joined my friend, Erin, and me for five days of swapping our scrolls for the better. The connection and freedom and growth that soaked in and squeezed out of that week changed me for good!

This morning it feels as though it may be time for another reset, so we've decided to host another 5-Day Change-It-Up Challenge!

Who thinks a break sounds timely? It's five days. December 26-30. You can do anything for five days! Just a little rest time. It will be a challenge, but I promise it will be fun!

Everyone who agrees to the challenge will receive five daily emails filled with ideas and inspiration to help you along the way. 👋🏼

You can also opt in to receiving a text each morning and evening for an extra boost of encouragement. 😂

Each person who accepts the challenge is encouraged to gather a few friends who know about the challenge . . . so that whether or not they also join, they at least have fair warning that you may indeed blow up their inbox with silly photos of your pets for a couple days. 🙃

At the end of the five days, we CELEBRATE!!

If scrolling has you bogged, we hope you'll mark your calendar and consider joining us December 26-30, 2021 for five days of Refreshing RESeT. 💛

Join the next Five-Day Change-It-Up Challenge!

Sign up here: December 26-30, 2021: RESeT