The Invisible Things.

The Invisible Things.

The mess on the counter.

The weeds that need pulled.

The dog that needs walked, 

The kids that need fed.

The husband that will soon come home.

The broken outlet plate. 

All things I can touch, 

clean, fix, mend, love.

I can hold these things, 

and take care of them,

Hug them, make it better.

I can clean off the counter

and walk away with things

as they should be.

It is, for the moment, 

done. 

I also deal with 

invisible things.

Motivation, 

gratefulness,

goals,

remorse,

God, 

fear,

envy, 

bravery.

I can’t cross these things

off my list. 

I can’t hold these 

in my hand;

touch them, grasp them, capture them.

We are dealing with invisible things.

I can’t fix these with an 

hour’s focused work. 

Every time I turn around

these things 

are still there.

Even though I usually

ignore them.

 My relationship with 

most invisible things is

that I trip over them. 

On my face again

and this conversation, again.

“Oh.

You’re still here.

I was hoping if I ignored you,

you would just disappear.”

Even when I give the attention

that the invisible things need, 

I usually only last for so long. 

It’s just too easy to go back to

imminent,

urgent, 

tangible,

check-it-off the list

type of things.

The temptation is real to 

only deal with visible. 

But life is made of 

invisible things, too. 

When I ignore the invisible 

I am living 

a partial life, 

with 

partial joy, 

partial growth, 

partial peace.

I have to give myself

permission to see

and deal with 

invisible things.

I’m learning that

a full, congruent life

includes integrating the invisible things

among the visible.

This way I run

instead of trip.

 

What invisible things are you tripping over? What needs your attention?

Are you living a whole life? You have permission to attend to the invisible things.

#PermissionGranted

Not Enough: The Anti-Cherry-On-The-Top

Not Enough: The Anti-Cherry-On-The-Top

She said she feels like she is drowning.

Drowning in

deadlines

motherhood

expectations

frustration.

I said

ditto.

I’m exhausted from treading water.

From trying to be it all and

do it all.

And feeling like a miserable failure

to top it all off.

The anti-cherry-on-the-top.

So what’s a woman to do?

How do I let go of this not enoughness

that I keep coming back to?

I

am

not

enough.

Again and again.

I come back here.

To this place.

Limbs and heart and mind

tired of treading water.

I can’t wear a cape and

be not enough.

I think I am supposed to hold this

not enoughness.

Not cling to it but daily

look at it.

See it for what it is.

See my need.

Say I am not enough and

with that acknowledgement, I say

I can’t do this on my own.

See, I am not the one

holding it all together.

All of the things that run through

my head and heart

on a given day are not resting on my shoulders.

Recognizing my not enoughness

is a reminder that

its not just up to me.

And trying my hardest,

staying up late, reading the latest book on discipline,

trying to spin all the plates

will always, every time

find me exhausted and

not enough.

And so I turn to the One

who is enough.

Enough for all

for all of time and eternity.

I am weak – not enough

but He is strong.

Enough.

And in this place…

Where I am not alone…

I

am

enough.

Faithful to What is in Front of Me

Faithful to What is in Front of Me

I am sensing you calling me

to be faithful

to what you have put before me.

Dreams are great

ambitions – necessary

but they can also distract from

what is here, in front of me.

My daydreams can pull

my gaze from the

path that is already laid out for me.

I am easily distracted

from what I am supposed

to be pouring myself into.

Oh look!

I should be doing what she is doing!

Oh, this is a new thing.

I should sign up for this today.

That’s a cool dream.

That should be my dream!

Meanwhile the things that you’ve

opened doors for

are neglected,

ignored,

unfulfilled

and there’s a real threat of

them just withering away.

Give me an urgency for

what you have put

within me,

before me.

Lord,

help me to be

faithful to the

people,

the opportunities,

the talents,

the call

that you have brought to me.

Help me to fix my gaze on you

and trust you to order my steps.

Fill my heart with trust in you

and a confidence in what you have called me to

so the fear of not being enough

nor the fear of missing out

can shift my gaze.

 

 Search for Kindling:

What is before you?

Are you choosing it?

 

 

The Most Compelling Call to Community

The Most Compelling Call to Community

Last night I sat in a candle-lit room –

the music unplugged and worshipful.

The lights were dimmed and the room was set up in a more intimate way.

We sat in the heaviness of it.

The burden of our sin he carried.

The weight of the betrayal from his friend.

It was a quiet, meaningful and rare type of moment.

I could hear the occasional rustling of paper from kids holding the song lyrics.

I heard sniffles and people shifting in their seats.

I could see their faces, and in some cases, their tears.

And they could see me.

Perhaps they saw me hold my finger to my lips to

remind my child that they needed to be still.

Or perhaps they saw my face when my son got up

from his chair to take communion on his own terms.

He didn’t need us to accompany him.

The sacrifice Jesus made was for him too

and he felt that deeply.

And so he went on his own.

Or maybe they saw my tears

and my brokenness showing through.

I was there because of the sacrifice made for me.

I was thinking about me and what Jesus gave for me.

However, in the midst of being seen,

in the midst of the little noises that

accompany a room full of people,

I was reminded again by the pastor’s words

that the way to honor Jesus’ ultimate sacrifice,

is to love as he loved.

To be seen, to exist – is supposed to also mean

that you are loved.

And I am part of that equation –

I am hands and feet.

His love through me –

a pouring out.

And so again, it isn’t just about me.

I should not be concerned about

saving a reserve for myself.

Jesus commanded us to live a life of community

on the night he was betrayed.

To give.

To serve.

First in my own home

and then to the world around me.

I can’t be afraid of failing.

Or of not being enough.

Or of making a decision that is

contrary to the world around me.

These are lies born of fear.

And I am to live from a place of love

and not out of fear.

I am called to love out of the unfathomable love

that has been so freely given to me.

Move Me.

Move Me.

You see me here.

In this place that I would rather not be.

You see me.

And yet here I am.

Still in a place I would rather not be.

I guess I hoped you would pick me up and

move me like the iron on a monopoly board.

Move me to a place of

joy

comfort

peace.

I’d like to pass go and collect my money, please

and move on from this space in time.

I am reminded as I fuss and fume

that you are all seeing and all knowing.

There’s so much I don’t know.

And so though I would like to not be here

in this spot that is costing me so much

it is where I am at today and perhaps will be

for an unknown amount of time.

I am here where I don’t want to be

but I am missing the obvious.

That you are with me.

I am not alone in my circumstances

but seen and loved in the midst of them.

You call to me in the places

that I don’t want to be.

You see me.

My desire for

joy

comfort

peace

is a desire that is fulfilled

by your presence

and not my circumstances.

And this is my greatest treasure.

She Practices Being Present.

She Practices Being Present.

I just finished a book that has a theme of being tethered to

truth

hope

earth

each other.

The author has a beautiful way with words and is so deep.

I will reread her words and pray her prayers.

She practices being present.

I was talking to a friend tonight about the book

about how the author, Kaitlin Curtice, is so

Connected

Present

Tethered.

And I said:

What if you don’t want to be where you are?

What do you do with that?

I admitted I didn’t know the answer.

When the moment is angsty and hard

and feels like a repeat of the day before

of attempting to climb the same slippery slope

and finding yourself stuck at the bottom again.

What does connected, tethered look like in that moment?

When it is a moment, a trial you would rather escape?

Is this just me?

Does anyone else feel this way?

Or maybe I am just super shallow.

Super impatient.

Incredibly weak.

Pining for a way out of the slippery icky mess.

And

as I sit here

wallowing

I am reminded

striving produces strong.

Wading through mess makes your heart

work harder.

Makes it stronger.

Makes it rely on something other.

Forces it to pick up the habit

of choosing joy over

another serving of bitter angst.

Maybe I am just in the process of

being tethered to the right things.

Perhaps the wading through the hard

forces me to set my mind on things above

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              while I am present in the now and the not yet.

I wonder if maybe what I am connected to

is not always what I can touch and see

but also to what I desire to be my reality.

Maybe longing is a form of being tethered.

Maybe the pursuit of connection

is part of the practice of being present.

My prayer is that God would meet me here

in the not yet,

in the becoming

where my tears add to

                                                                                                                                                                                                             the slippery slope I am trying to ascend.