What's Christmas without cupcakes?

Dream job. That's what I have. I get to think things up then make them happen. Reality is my ideas are kinda good, like normal cake vs. my great grandma's cake. My ideas are normal cake and God's ideas are crazy good, like my great grandma's cake. Thankfully God is invested in me and my job and shares his ideas with me. Sometimes we're in sync from the beginning sometimes he shows up last minute with a "saving the day-out of thin air" brilliant idea. Last week was one of those times.

All of October & November- Knew I had Kid's Christmas Night. Thought it would come together. Got caught off guard, things fell through :/ wrong type of falling. Started really praying about it as November was rounding it's bend. Was completely unsure about what was going to happen.

Tuesday-ready to cancel the whole night, talked it over with my parents. Decided it'll be okay, still doable.

Wednesday- After a lonnng talk with Randy I started pulling people in, asking them to do what they do well.

Saturday- returned a few texts

Sunday 2pm- show up to a task force starting to hit full swing

Sunday 4pm- the room has been transformed, the kids mouths are gaping & are wide eyed.

Next 2 hours there's sugar and glitter flying! A stellar movie shown by Backyard Studios Dancing, pictures being taken and people who worship together meeting each other. (at last)

6pm-7pm everything gets torn down. You wouldn't know the kid party of the year had just happened.  :)

God has such good ideas.  He honestly is the only one who can take the smallest amount of credit for how amazingly well it went.  I'm glad I get to be along for the ride :)

"...a women waiting for her man..."

part of a greater thought, check out "...a girl..."

As a child I knew one day I wanted to get married. I had many outlandish notions that seemed very romantic, the main one being that he would die fighting in the Civil War and I would have to give birth to our child alone. Then my dead husband's best friend would marry me and help raise the child as part of an oath the two of them made on the battle field.  Great right? Except for the whole my husband dying and the Civil War ending 147 years ago.  Thankfully we don't always get what we wish for.
The years passed and I gained some sense. I meet good men who were kind and were interested in me. For some reason it thankfully never went beyond friendship for many years, as I grew more into myself. I believe if I had married at 18 as was my jr.high wish I would be a stranger to a large part of who I am.  And would have missed the many adventures God has taken me on to show me more of who he is.

(I am by no means discouraging young marriage, just telling my story)

All of the college years I would have told you one day I would marry and join my husband in his calling. this means dropping mine, it at the most taking 2nd place. This idea seems to show a lack of understanding the importance of what God had asked me to do and also displaying a faulty view of partnership.

God has placed a call on my life, I am just at the beginning of dreams with God.  These are big dreams.  I've become aware of the fact that whomever I marry will have to help me nurture these dreams and encourage me forward when I'm tired and don't want to keep going.

Last year a prayer of my heart was verbalized by a friend when she prayed that God would be preparing my husband to come alongside me in my calling. 

alongside |əˈlô ng ˈsīd; əˈlä ng-|
preposition (also alongside of)
close to the side of; next to : she was sitting alongside him | [as adv. ] the boat came alongside.
• together and in cooperation with
• at the same time as or in coexistence with


God and I have had many conversations on marriage and matters of the heart and there is a very sweet story he has taken me on that I am waiting for him to completely unfold, but what he's taken me on thus far has taught me to wait for what is yet to come.

p.s. Also chose to use the word Woman because, I don't believe one has to be married to be a women but rather that being a woman is being wholly who girls were created to be... see "... a woman..."

"... an old soul..."

pre script part of a series see "... a girl..." 

Each time I sit down to write the next post it feels like the trickiest one yet. Same with today.

Old Soul is a term I've been using since high school to describe myself, but I've never really broken it down till now, excuses my clumsy attempts to put words to my thoughts.... 
The words like: noble, brave, honorable, wise, gentle and healing are ones that I gravitate towards. Remembering stories of old while living in the present day. Believing in weight and gravity and in joy and blessing.  Knowing that my time here on earth is short, but it can build on the centuries of lives that passed before me. Also I can live as a gift for the life that takes my place when I leave. 

Dear Aiden,

Last night I missed your mom's call. How I wish her and I could have talked.  Talk about the thoughts that were going through her brain and heart as she knew she'd meet you the next day. This evening your dad text me to keep me in the loop. Thousands of miles away but wanting to be there. Pushing has started, you can't be far off.
I head to a party your grandparents, aunt and uncle are there. We all have our phones we all have smiles and we all can't do anything but wait.... Aunt Megan & I decided to shoot some hoops. It's dark, party lights aren't great for depth perception, but it doesn't matter cause we are just pacing the hospital floor on that basketball court. Every time one of our phones makes a noise we catch our breath.

Still waiting... your mom's been at this for a while. When are you going to cry to let us know everything is alright?

We hear a commotion coming from inside. Someone tells Megan she's an aunt. We run in and your mom is on speaker phone. We all gather around to hear every word. You're healthy,  you're named, you're blessed. Your parents are hungry. Your grandma cries, such joy, love and pride flowing down her face.
The call ends, we all hug. We tell the world. We hug some more.

I haven't seen you yet, in person or a picture. But I'm sure you're handsome and perfect and the amazing balance of your mom and dad. They are good, kind people. Always reflect them.   Welcome to this world little "fire of God". I can't wait to know you.
Love,
Auntie Annie 

"... a storyteller..."

(part of a greater thought, see "... a girl..." )

It's dark, maybe there is a fire glowing, maybe the only light is that of the stars.  There is one voice you can hear. Softly it starts building and dropping just like a piece of music. You have to strain to hear each word. Each word winds the story around another bend, taking you further into it's self. In the darkness your mind has nothing to see but the pictures that are being suggested to you.  You see places you've never been, you began to feel for characters you have only just met. They hope and grow week, they encounter incredible evil and display outstanding good.  For the duration of the story you can believe in light winning against dark, and in love outlasting bitterness, hatred and fear.

Someone has lead you, transported you, squeezed past your walls of practicality and disbelief.
There are many ways to tell a story but my favorite is with me telling it out loud directly to the listeners who are right beside me. You compete against every distraction that can fly, walk, or fall into the space. But those two words "the space" is part of why I love it. You can tell a story anywhere. In a moment a friend has left the hospital. A nerves child forgets he's backstage. Homesick girls are lost in a love story.  And squirmy boys are slaying dragons.

writing.... :/ :p

As much as I love writing and creating, there are moments I want it to just come together! Here are some photos of the faces I feel I made all afternoon yesterday, while editing and re-editing...

(Will this story ever be finished?!)

Weeks latter......

(yes the picture is very small and of low quality but look past all that...)

preview

This is a picture of me working on the final draft (then book) of "Lotye & Lady Moon" 
Which by the by will be up for auction at this event.

"...an artist..." (in the inbetween)

(part of a series see "...a girl...") 

Well dear blog, this evening I fully meant to write a stellar post about being an artist, maybe mention all it's joys and hardships. But instead I spent time with family, put away laundry, sent some vocational emails, caught my calender up to date (my paper calender, one that one must write in for it to know what you are thinking) and responded to a birthday invitation.  All the while my neat pile of art supplies sat quietly lurking, waiting for their moment of mention. Maybe I would scan in a few drawings, maybe I would tell you why I love color so much but find myself using charcoal. Maybe I would take a tangent and tell you this city will be won or lost in the arts. And explain what a need we have for selfless artist.  I could tell you of the podcast that have helped put words to my heart, the men who have given me the freedom to not bother with questions (let alone answers) and let me wonder. I could share bits from a book where I was challenged in my selfishness. Life isn't about us (news flash) but more about the life that God wants to work through us. It's then that we can delight..... I could share links of art festivals that are happening soon. Or a friends efforts to breath life back into tradition. I could share about a non profit a friend started, just so kids would have a chance to experience the joy of creating.  There are blogs and tumblers (click refresh 4x)of friends and strangers that are daily an inspiration to me.

Somewhere in the post I'd have to say, it doesn't matter what your form is, being an artist (in my book) is a way of life, it's a way of looking at the world. It is to live with a constant longing, a pull as if by the moon, to see and show the world as it was meant to be. 

"...a leader..."

pre script,  you might want to start by reading "... a girl..."

Honestly it has been a very eyeopening and thoughtful time writing this post series. As I have had to stop and ponder each aspect of my life, remember why I believe what I do and am I living in that reality.

(brief history: Up until early Spring 2011 I pretended I wasn't a leader, that people didn't follow me, that I couldn't be used as a leader even if I tried. Thought that it would be a mistake to be put in any sort of authority role, and worked hard to get rid of all responsibility. Leadership is something that I've  run from for years, and though I didn't "run" from it this last year or so, this Spring is when I started looking leadership in the eye)

What it means to be a leader has been on my mind a lot over the past two months. It started with a conversation when a friend said a leader needs to see where they want to go and take people there, also that if no one is following you're not leading, a leader acts out a plan not reacts and a leader a lines themselves with God first. Then people see that and follow.  Good words and they made me stop and look at my life and consider if I am leading.

I have had to stop and ask; Where am I leading people to?
Am I being a solid base  for people to work from? Am I following through on ideas that have been intrusted to me? Am I doing things because I think a leader should do them, or because it fits, and is a healthy thing? Do I spend more energy reacting and "managing" or establishing ways of being?

Right now God is trying to teach me the great importance of hearing two things; His heart, and the heart of the people he has given me. 

Before a meeting the other day a friend said "Be the captain of the ship, steer it towards God's vision." As much as I would love to not stick out from the crowd and never have to make a decision for any group of people, I am realizing that I'm doing them all a disservice when I don't fill my role. When I don't share where we are headed and ask for them to be stretched. 

Lines that play through my head most days like today...

courage is a weapon that we use
to find some life we can't refuse 

-Over the Rhine

".... a pastor's heart...."

pre script,  you might want to start by reading "... a girl..."

Honestly the reason why I'm excited to share this post is because I know everything I'm about to say has nothing to do with what I've figured out or what comes naturally to me, but rather everything is work God is doing in me.

Andrew is my brother. He is very kind, thoughtful and a good listener to peoples problems. On the other hand I see myself as; blunt, not observant, unapproachable, and talks a lot. In the past, I've said that I was the preacher and Andrew was the shepherd  (pastor heart). I tell them how it is, and he helps them get there.

Then one day I found myself overseeing children, leaders (teachers) and parents.  I knew on that day that I knew nothing about shepherding all those different people, there was no even pretending to know how.  You know when you're stumped.

That morning's reading was Matthew 18: 1-14 (especially 12-14) Jesus talks of a man who looks after one hundred sheep.  One sheep goes wondering and ends up lost. The shepherd leaves the ninety-nine to find the one who is lost.  Then ends with "In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost."  I explained that I had no idea what it meant to be a shepherd of souls, and God very gently  reassured me that he would teach me. To keep my eyes on him and do as he does.

Do I always remember to follow his movements, or even watch him? Sadly no, but it is what I want to want.

"...a M.K...." (missionary kid)

(pre script this is a part of a series see "...a girl...")

Here I'm about 10

The journey for my family started in the Pacific Northwest,  I was still learning to walk when my parents dared to believe God was asking them to live boldly.


My family moved to Europe when I was seven-years-old and returned when I was twelve. I would say most of my childhood happened in Europe. It was there I played in the park with my friends, mastered ridding a bike, lost a mouthful of teeth, spent cold days sledding until all feeling left my body. It was there I ran wild in summers, building forts and spying on boys.

We lived in a post-Communism country, poor but grateful to be free. The Communist had left there mark in the cities, in the "art" and on people's hearts.

We lived in a city that has buildings older then the country on my birth certificate.  I sat in halls of kings,  walked by homes of composers and drove by Roman ruins . Visiting a castle was a favorite family hangout spot.


The church we were apart of was made up of great grandparents, grandparents and grandchildren (my peers) but very few moms or dads because they had bought into the lie they didn't need God.  Everyone at the church treated me with love and patience as I learned my way. They displayed the importance of family, the family of believers, gratitude (thanking God for what they did have), and generosity (giving freely what they had).  They knew hard times, and time was still hard but they weren't bitter. They laughed and cried.

Also we grew up in the missionary community. We all lived away from aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins. We were from everywhere but all there because God had told us to be there and His Crazy Love was the only thing that made sense ;) We prayed longing for him to step in on our behalf in a land were we had no voice. To heal sickness that we didn't understand.  To protect us as spouses and children were often apart and to provide food as every "paycheck" was a gift from someone who gave because they wanted too. We were continually surrounded by people who were clinging to their faith in God

 
When I was twelve we moved back to the "Land of the Free" we had very little shared history, I didn't know what Twinkies were, couldn't tell you the difference between 'N Sync and the Backstreet Boys, and had never been to Disneyland (this might sound childish but twelve-year-olds kinda are) 

I knew I wasn't from Europe,  they had pain and history that I hadn't experienced only felt the effects, but I didn't belong in the U.S. either, my world was bigger then theirs.

By the color of my skin I could fit into anywhere I've lived, I guess what I'm saying is because of everywhere I've lived my heart is it's own color.  (you might want to revisit "A Safe Place" )

"... a woman..."

(pre script this is a part of a series see "...a girl..." )

In no way, shape, or form is this going to cover all of what it means to be a woman, or even how I see myself as a woman. It's simply going to open a curtain and let you peer outside.

For starter lets point out the obvious; men and women are different and when a man is acting fully and freely as a man it encourages a woman to act fully and freely as a woman.  Also there seems to be a difference between what "just anyone would do" and what a woman would do.

This is what it looks like in my life....


I want to encourage the men in my life to be the men they long to be. I want to be quick to come alongside others in their journey. To use my voice to inspire people not burden them. To protect those needing protecting and not shirking from difficult conversations but speaking (and listening) in grace and truth.

Being a woman is something I would love to be. Most of the time however I go from forgetting about it, to loving it, to being afraid of it.

There'll be times when I forget all about what it means to be a woman, and just live my normale self focused life. Then something will come along that insperes me to greatness.... maybe something that was said, or the way the sun shone, or a stirring of the soul.

"... a girl..."

So the is the first of what I'm planning is going to be a little group of posts expanding the paragraph that inspired the last post: A Safe Place.  While at a conference I attended recently they had type writers and paper with the header : "What's your story?" So I started typing...

Hello, 

My name is Anna and this is a page in my story... or should I say my page in God's story:)  I'm a girl, a woman, a MK, a pastor heart, a leader, an artist, a storyteller, an old soul, a women waiting for her man, maybe a prophetess... a daughter, a sister, and part of a promise, a promise of revival. A promise of the Spirit coming and flooding our lives, our hearts, our homes, and our selves. But like I said at the beginning this story really is God's... he's just letting me join in... What will he say? Where will he move? (show up unexpectedly) What will he do? There is no telling really, all we can do is follow and listen to the whispering wind.

"... a girl..." 

"girl |gərl|
noun
1 a female child." -my computer dictionary 

For such a cool computer this is a lousy definition. When I hear the word "girl" I think someone who encases, expresses and delights in beauty, someone who plays opposite (but not at odds) with boy.

A Safe Place

      Three weeks ago I was at a leadership retreat.  It was a beautiful time of being in nature, hearing each other, and hearing God. There where intense moments of head on spiritual battle but that really wasn't the focus more of a byproduct of the other three things.  (which is a cool picture if you stop to think about it, when we are worshiping God, enjoying his blessings and seeking to buildup each other spiritual ground is fought for). During that time we were asked "What conversation is Jesus longing to have with you?" and then "What is your impossible (only doable by Jesus) dream?" 

"What conversation is Jesus longing to have with you?" 

  (The discipline was to have this conversation at Sycamore) For me this is how it went.... I sat down in the chairs with everyone else forsaking my normal role of doing announcement because Jesus said he would take care of it.  I look up to see what he's going to say, Jesus says "Welcome" while looking right at me.  When I asked God to expand on it he filled it out by saying "You are welcome." With this simple phrase came a flood of knowing I'd hidden parts of myself in different places and only family and a few close friends knew everything, every aspect of what all makes up who I am.  The problem boiled down to because I was unsure of how to be all of who I am in all areas (people groups) of my life I just don't bring up (make myself forget) the harder to figure parts, which leaves you with an non-complete me and a non-complete picture of God in me.

Less of me, less of Him, less people can glory in Him. (besides me being confused) 

 The word "welcome" hit the strain of belonging and acceptance.  Two things many of us humans struggle with (probably in part because who we tend to seek it from are also longing for it)  (I"ll probably write about this idea of belonging and acceptance more later this summer) But for now just know it's something that has been quietly haunting me since I was around 10 years-old.  That 14ish years of wondering.  So the sentence "You are welcome." is one of being fully known, belonging and accepted. Pretty cool.



That brings us to the "Impossible Dream" which is That everyone in the church would know fully who they are and have the freedom to act fully in the talents and gifts God has given them. 
It's not world peace but the Bride living in peace with who she is.

They go together in an obvious way and actually the dream has been around for at least four years and I have only been aware of me having to come out of hiding for a month.



Where does that bring me?
I feel like I have to fully live all of myself in the life I've been given today. And maybe I'll help clear they way and set an example for others to trust Jesus with their whole life.  John 10:10 "I have come that you may have life and life to the full." has been a favorite for years, but it has taken on a deeper meaning.  ".. that you may have life (all of it)..."  This last week I was in California at a conference and the question they kept asking again and again was "What's your story?"  I want to step into a place where I tell and live my story.   

Is it going to be easy? No. I have to retrain my decision making, recreate what it means to be safe.  This whole post was started today by doing battle with myself whether or not I could share a responsive journal entry to the question "What's your story?" there are parts in it I would normally leave out.... but that seemed playing the coward.  Yet at the same time I don't know if I'm ready to share with a blog, that isn't read, all of who I am.  To say it all in one go?  .....

Lotye and Lady Moon

Pre Script: This Story isn't finished, I've been turning it over in my head a lot recently. This evening I found a draft of it I had written 3 years ago. I hope you enjoy it (despite it's roughens) and join me in anticipating it's completion (maturing).

Once there was a girl. She was thought of as little but her thoughts had no limits, she would travel all over the known and unknown worlds while playing by her creek. She was quiet, not for a lack of things to talk about but rather she was so busy (preoccupied) with her travels and concerns for her countless friends she didn't have much time to talk.
    One winter evening she noticed the moon. For the first time the Lady's glow grasped her attention. The young girl was fascinated by the milky sphere suspended in the sky. That night as she was waiting for sleep she knew it was light from the shimmering lady that filled her room.

    The following afternoon as she was walking home from school wondering whether the great purple elephant had rsvp for the a tea party that was to be held that Saturday her thoughts were interrupted by white flakes falling from the sky. This was the first snow of the winter, so all her built up child glee burst forth. She danced/skipped/spun home all the while trying to catch snow on her tongue
    After dinner she went out to make sure all her friends were warm. As she said goodnight and tucked them into their beds in trees and under bushes, she told them not to be scared for the Lady Moon would shine her light. Up she looked to thank the moon and tell her "goodnight". The little girl thought the moon looked different then the night before, but couldn't put her finger on it.

    At the end of a  long pleasant day of visiting family, eating cupcakes, and making snow angels with her cousins  the little girl woke and realized she was being carried inside by her dad. As he carried her up the long flagstone walk, she saw the moon peering through the leafless trees. "Daddy"  she was sure something was wrong, "Daddy"  "Yes dear?"   "Daddy look." she said as she pointed. "Ah yes the moon. Isn't she lovely?" He didn't seem concerned at all. She could understand why not. A few moments latter she was a sleep.

    The next few days the little girl enjoyed the abundance of snow that closed the school doors.  She was still concerned for the moon but had so many other things to do.  In the front yard there were not one or two but six snow people, the beginning of a snow village. They were fleeing from the south and asked if they could stay in the little girl's yard. Of course she said yes and helped them anyway she could think of.  Inside, the little girl and her mother baked cookies, read books, frosted cookies,  colored pictures for everyone they knew, and ate cookies.  On the third evening of this snowed-in bliss  the little girl went outside to let the snow people know she had received word from their grandfather and that he was safely in the North.   She noticed the snow gleamed like the Lady Moon. In fact the round snow people looked like moons stacked on themselves.  The following morning while cutting out biscuits it hit her. All the pieces fit together, but there was still reasonable doubt in her mind. (some people have said this doubt was hope, but it truly was doubt)  During lunch, as the little girl dunked her biscuit into her bowl of split pea soup ( a favorite soup because of the intense color, closely followed by tomato)  She thought over her thoughts one by one. The moon was no longer a circle but looked like the letter: C, the moon had begun changing the night after the first snow, the snow shimmered  the same as Lady Moon. Conclusion: ... no, it couldn't be.  She thought about it for the remainder of the day. She thought about it as she helped wash dishes, as she arranged her stuffed animals by color, as she built the largest fort in any living room every. She was still thinking about it as she sat by the window waiting for her dad to come home, even after her parents had tucked her in and turned off the lights and kissed her head she kept thinking about it.

Tru Gathering... "What's your story?"

Here we are in Californian at Tru Gathering 2012,  450 people who want to further the Kingdom and feel the tug of children.  The sessions have been good, really enjoyed the different story tellers, but I'm not sure why I'm here. I feel like I'm waiting and looking... a couple of questions have been answered, which was nice.....

Here's what I know.....
1. Before leaving I talked honestly with a fellow minister (and dad in our church) about where the families are at,  and that God is the one who grows and awakens people to deeper, fuller lives. We talked about how I could share mt heart with the dads so they would know my longing and it would be known, and they could share theirs and together we could dream and plant families that long for God, who can see and know him.

2. The leadership at church are very sportive, and I don't need to do any convincing.

3. It's my bent to want to fix, improve, go deeper, what others are doing, however I'm constantly reminded to bring them deeper into Jesus and in turn everything they touch is enriched by THEIR growing relationship with God.

4. Was in a break out and almost every idea they shared our church has already come up with, it just a matter of chasing it down all the way, feeding it healthy food and giving it room to grow, that was encouraging... still though we had already thought of them.

My question is why am I here? What do I have to offer?

a day of agony...

A picture of a drawing. It's of the hours of darkness on the First Good Friday

Teacher Goldfish

North and &five are the names of my two goldfish. They live in a bowl on my bedside table and I read aloud to them in the evenings. Currently we are reading "Brother Wolf, Sister Sparrow" Stories about Saints and Animals (it seemed fitting:)  North is orange on top with a white belly, &five is a shiny brown.  Besides goldfish being some of the best pets, because they don't smell and don't get their hair on you sweaters, they are also great because they have been teaching me more about God.

For exsample:
The goldfish ultimately depend on me for food. They find food on the bottom of their bowl but after I've put it there. Just like we eat food, but after God has grown and provided it.

They live in a bowl, I live in time. The bowl is all they know, time is all I know. I can see into (even put my hand in bowl) but am outside of it, God can see into time, can be apart of it, but is also outside of it.

Kinda tripy what all a 5 cent fish can teach you.

February 18th-

Something was said, I lost it.
Up to this point I hadn't cried, the tears hadn't found their way to my eyes.
I brushed past people and climbed over the pew. The closing hymn was being sung, but I couldn't wait. I had to get away. I had to cry.

Out the back door I found a field, some trees and sun. I leaned against the wooden church. There in that sunshine silence I cried aloud. I ached to be comforted. I morned the loss of arms that I could never hold again. I wept knowing one day I would hold them, and that this death was the beagianing of new type of goodbyes. I cried again. A women of such love was gone leaving behind a family of tears, missing the one they loved but glad she's healed. I cried feeling the familes pain. I cried because pain had ended.

I stood there. The breeze ran his fingers through my hair. The sun warmed my shaking body. The fresh warm Spring air filled my tight lungs, then, then I heard the birds. Their song reached my ears. A simple morning song. Listening, simply listening, I let them speak, speak of his love, of his faithfulness.

The wind, the sun, the air and the birds wrapped me up in the Father's arms.  I simply was in him. She is in him.

Life begins now, it doesn't stop.

M. L. S.

She is a beautiful women.
Life starts at the  time of trusting God, everything before that was a shadow. Death is a shadow on the life of those who trust, just a shadow.

She has been sick for years. A couple of summers ago we laughed on the beach, while the family gathered for a celebration, a wedding, two people vowing their love to each other before God.

Air was painful. The soft breeze I would open my mouth to drink  had forgotten the path down to her lungs. She spoke in a whisper, a whisper of kindness.

She smiled, she cared, had gentle words.

Last Summer we gathered for another celebration, a graduation, a person stepping forth giving their future to the service of God.

This Winter I heard the sickness had increased, the pain had intensified.

Quietly we gathered again, for yet one more celebration, a celebration of life given for the service of God, of one who cared, who mothered, who lived out her vow to love just one man. A celebration of a life fully lived, a life that passed through the shadow called death, only to continue living. Living completely with no hindrances.

Sabbeth (when it's all about so much more...)

Today is a day of remembering. Here are some verses my fingers need to type out.

The Lord is righteous in all his ways and loving towards all he made.

The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on the truth. (ps145:17)




The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love. (ps147:11)


I cry aloud to the Lord; I lift my voice to the Lord for mercy..... When my spirit grows faint within me, it was you who know my way. (ps1421&3)



It's been a long few weeks (months... years) but I'm excited to see what God will do.

God,
Please bring me close to you. Keep me soft, keep me humble. continue working on my heart, don't stop now, even though I think it's uncomfortable. May I see even this time as a time of letting your glory shine. Help me rest in you.


 p.s. We are made out of clay, aren't we? :) 

an email

If you're in ministry probably just the title of this post already has your skin crawling. How many messes get larger through emails.... so much so the pastor who oversees me has band me from having ministry related conversations with people through email, I must have them face to face or over phone.

Today a parent responded to our weekly news letter. They simply politely asked to be removed from the email list, as they have started to go to another church. (very simple, no drama)

I almost quickly responded in a similar fashion : "Sure, no problem :) " Before I could type it out I began to wonder....

Do I want it to seem like I'm happy they're gone? Or that it is no biggie, like deciding to use Firefox instead of Safari? I can't ask through email whats going on. I want to know why they left. Maybe it's a better fit for their family, maybe it's in their neighborhood. Maybe it's with family. These would all be positive reasons to leave.

But... I didn't hear a word about it...

Maybe their upset. Maybe they didn't feel like they fit in. Maybe...

But I didn't hear a word.

Maybe I should leave well enough alone.

Maybe I should ask.

You don't just walk out of peoples' lives.

They didn't teach me how to say goodbye.