Had it Not Been the Lord Who Was on My Side . . .

4 years ago today, the kids and I carried all of our earthly possessions and set them in our driveway for Michael to pack into the trailer. We had planned and schemed for over a year.

Somehow we had the money and the time seemed right.

We moved to CA when our kids were 5, 4, 3, 15 months and 15 months. I was 25 and . . . barely alive. Physically and mentally.

We needed to get away. A fresh start.

I think the most significant thing that happened while we lived there is that I really and truly gave my life to Jesus. I stepped out of my denial and admitted how messed up I was and how I had completely messed up my life. I realized that my brokenness was all I had to offer and I gave it to Him to deal with. I learned that He wanted that all along.

That eventually brought our family to Texas. Irving. Older women. Spiritual counsel. Celebrate Recovery. Bible study. Confession. Better mom. Transformation. Growth. Learning. Layers of onion peeled back. Festering, gangrene-esque wounds cleaned, dressed and healed. New ( but really, old) wounds/bad habits exposed.

Sadly, some relationships didn't survive all of this. I'm sorry about that and I pray that someday there will be restoration.

But for now, I'm working on my relationship with God. Resting in Him, getting to know HIM and making THAT relationship my priority...gaining all of the approval, pleasing, loving that I have sought from people for a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooog time, from God. Allowing Him to show me who He made me to be and all the ways I have buried that in an effort to make myself into someone other people could like/love. Believing all the while that I couldn't be someone that people like/love because of my inherent vileness and unloveable/unlikeableness. Manipulating people into giving me what I need. And then walking away feeling empty anyway.

I don't want that. I want to be filled with all of God's fullness so I never walk into a room feeling like I'm on the outside looking in again. So I can stop looking for love in all the wrong places.

Like a baby being swaddled, I've kind of pulled all my limbs in close. Being quiet and letting God hold me. Seeking God first. Trusting His transformation and wisdom.

2 days before my 30th birthday I got purple streaks put into my hair.

Uriah and Elisabeth playing in the Pacific.

Lis and Lilla participating in an AHG ceremony.

Lilla got her tonsils taken out when she was 5.

A soccer ball cake I made for one of Caleb's birthdays. Nailed it. ha!!!!

My 30th birthday party.

On our way to CA in 2007.

At the beach in San Francisco

Family selfie in 2009, I think.

Birthday dinner probably in 2009.

Halloween 2010, I think

Halloween 2010

Christmas 2010

Michael was going to work and school, both full time. So I was a single parent for 3 or 4 years. Back to school night with all these wild indians.

They wore daddy out 2011.

Me in my helmet!

Michael in the motorcycle gear. He rode his motorcycle to work and school, rain, shine or freeze.

2011

Easter, 2011

Family picture 2012

2011

2010

My cozy little kitchen for almost 7 years.

My softball days. All five of the kids sat in the stands cheering.

Summer 2011, I think.

Easter 2013

2012

Bible Bedtime

2010

2008

2009

2008

2012

2012

2014

About to give his first speech. 2013

  

2014

2012

Right after we moved back to Texas August 31, 2014

July 2009

2012

Judging Peter

I've judged Peter before. But not today.

I imagine the wind sweeping through his hair, blowing into his face as he calls out to Jesus.

Words come out of nowhere, "Bid me to come to you on the water!"

Peter steps out onto the water and

. . . things change. The impossibility of walking on water and virility of the wind just gets to him.

Talk is cheap. It's the doing that costs.

I feel called. I dream and scheme. I make a plan.

But the moment I take a step toward actually DOING the plan . . . a big step that could be life changing and devastating if I heard God wrong.

I can't catch my breath. Panic.

Can I undo this? This is crazy! Why did I think this was a good idea?!

I think of Peter. And I don't judge his fear of the wind.

My plans are God's. He can do with them what He will.

I am not looking at that wind.

I am not questioning the mechanics of the impossible. That's not my job.

It's my job to put one foot in front of the other . . .

and to keep my eyes on Jesus while I do it. 

Battlefield of Another Kind

Air stale. Putrid. Thick.

Gunpowder. Rotting flesh.

Graveyard of unburied bodies. Flies.

Explosions, gunfire fly like cars on the Autobahn in heavy traffic. Body no longer reacts to the sounds.

Weapon hugged to chest.

Eyes meet. Recognition.

Dirt and soot and sweat cling to skin like masks.

Those eyes . . . a respite from the battle. For a split second, we are not on the battlefield, not in war...home. And I know, the ugliness won't consume me.

We didn't know each other before our world became life and death. Miles apart. Contrasting sides of "the tracks". Interests, viewpoints, life goals separated us like roaches when you turn on the light.

But here.

Here.

In the trenches. Through the battle.

Brothers. More than blood. Soul-mates.

Reason to keep walking.

Sustainer through bitter cold and deep weariness when feet refuse to carry on.

Doctor wounds, tell stories, live our faith that someday this will be over. Carry each other through gun fire, darkness and despair.

No competition. No scoreboard. No tally of who saved whose life or who hit more targets, carried the most weight, treated more wounds, told the best stories.

We survive. Together. Pray for one another. His survival and mine - one and the same.

Eyes remind me this battle will not last forever. Foreign land is not our home. Love transcends time and space to cover a multitude of things nothing else will.

Spiritual warfare. Though not physical, battleground nonetheless.

Spiritual trenches.

And though we are different. From different places, contrasting thought processes, various races, diverse socio-economic statuses.

Brothers in arms.

Soul mates.

The battlefield draws us together.

We doctor each others wounds, tell our stories. Carry one another through gunfire, darkness and despair.

Remind.

Point to Jesus.

No competition. No scoreboards. No tally marks.

We survive. Together. Pray. Together. Confess sin. Together.

We are in this. Together.

Out of the battle ground, our Father weaves the ashes.

His story.

His glory.

Our gain.

Together.

Parenting: Ambassador to My Son's Heart

Eyes filled to brim.

Body shaken and tense.

Confusion, disappointment contort the face of child at jagged edge of manhood.

He didn't get in.

Questions, tears escape together.

"Why is he luckier than me?"

Spiritual warfare wages. This boy formed in my womb, knows of God. But doesn't know the Father who can only be known through time and trial and...seeking.

Teeth clenched, heart aching. Determined. Satan will not win. Not this battle. Not. this. boy.

"Satan, get away!"

Words come. God's ambassador to this boys heart. I tell him about the Father I know.

Higher ways. Wiser thoughts.

Good. My good. The good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

Faith. Without knowing. Without seeing. Abiding.

And . . .

It's okay to be angry. But tell Him. It's okay for the words to be raw. He'll hear your heart.

Tell Him. Ask Him. Trust Him. Thank Him.

Decide.

Lies seem true. But they are lies construed to deceive. To trap. To kill.

Seek God. Whole heart. Entire mind.

He is good. He is true. Always. Infinitely. Forever.

I am thankful for my own scars. For the trial by fire that nearly consumed me.

Because, I know my God. I know how to find Him.

So, I draw this sweet man-child a map. Instill a compass in his heart. So he can find his way through the storms and fires and wreckage.

Jesus, my sweet son. Jesus. He is the way. The truth. The life.

God. He is Yours. You are good. He is Yours. I like to think he's mine. But in these moments I am thankful he is not. Take Him Father. He is Yours.

What Freedom Feels Like

The patchwork quilt lies quietly in ripples across the sea of grass growing wildly and abundantly into the sky.

The breeze swirls and dances through the peach fuzz on my arms. Sunshine seeps into my soul and feels like being baptized in God's love.

I breathe in the honeysuckle sweetness and breathe out the toxicity poisoning my spirit.
The heaviness that bearing the weights of my world inflicts upon my heart.

This world is beautiful. But broken. I am broken. By my own sin. By others' sin.

In my brokenness, I pick up the pieces and clumsily tape them back together.Like trying to mend the pieces of remaining flesh after a lion has feasted on its prey.

Believing that it must be done before it can be a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God. Before the spiritual act of worship.

But duct tape and clumsy hands cannot repair. The heart is too complex, too essential, too. . .

Broken. Shattered. Incinerated. Obliterated.

Pieces too small for human eyes and hands to maneuver.

It is God's work. His hands, small. And big.

His eyes see.

The Great Physician heals. Whole. Complete.

And so, I stop frantically searching for pieces. Trying to hide and heal what is broken.

I stop.

Leave the mess where it lies.

Open heart wide.

Offer it up. Whole. Entire. The most mangled, deeply rooted and disgusting parts.

Hide nothing. Bare it.

And let God work.

Let His light seep into my soul and His breath tickle my skin.

Breath Him in, breathe me out.

Freedom.

How to Distinguish Truth From Lies

I cower like a whipped puppy.

When accusations are hurled at me or someone disagrees with me. I cower.

But I am learning that just because someone else sees me and things a certain way, doesn't mean they are that way.

So I am learning to sift for truth. Here's what I am learning...

1. Pray. Tell God explicitly that I am confused. Ask Him to reveal the Truth to me. Even if that means convicting me of sin. I ask Him to reveal any area of denial that I am in and any lies that I am believing.

2. Seek wise counsel.

3. Check my heart, admit and repent of any pride or defensiveness or other sin. And make sure that I am open to being wrong.

4. Trust God to give me the answers I need and to direct my steps. Because He will. Jesus said that if I continue in His word, then I will be His disciple and I will know the truth and the truth will set me free.

5. Seek God with all my heart. Worship Him. In song and in life. And in His word.

6. Give it time. It doesn't always happen overnight.

If I do these things, the truth comes to light.

The key is relying on God and His wisdom instead of my own.

Of course, that's always the key, right?

A Reason to Give Up

I could live in the shame of my past. I could accept the judgments of others.

I could. Because I have committed heinous acts. Against God and other people. Very public things that most people who have known me for a few years know about. And others who haven't that I openly confess to.

But I don't live in shame. Because that isn't what God has for me. Or you. I won't live in character defects. I don't have to.

I do not delight in them. I rejoice because Jesus plucked me out of the clutches of Satan.

But because I remember where He's brought me from, I love Him even more. I am deeply and profoundly grateful. I am keenly aware of what God has done for me.

So while people may turn their backs on me, I will not cower. I will boldly declare God's goodness and allow the Spirit to mold me to be different in the future.

My God is amazing. He has done marvelous things for me. It's difficult to draw a deep breath when I try to meditate on it all. Everytime I drive up to our house. Every time friends ring our doorbell and I LET THEM IN.

Every day, every minute I am reminded that I exist and function by the grace of God.

Praise God!

What the Cross Means to Me

I would probably be dead.

No exaggeration. No dramatics. Without the cross of Jesus Christ I would probably be dead.

I would have given in to the darkness. "The anger of the enemy would have swallowed"...me..."alive".

The lies of Satan would have consumed me like a python consuming a baby piglet.

I believed I wasn't good enough. I believed that there was something inherently wrong with me. I believed that I was a garbage person with a Judas heart. That for whatever reason, I was born evil.

I lied, cheated and stole. I gossiped, and wore pride like a Bubble Boy wears his bubble.

I sought attention through negative behaviors.

And I self harmed.

All while going to church 3 times a week and checking off the to-do list. I was "raised in the church".

But then Jesus plucked me out of the clutches of Satan.

I haven't had suicidal thoughts in years. I'm open and honest about who I am.

Regardless of what anyone says to me or about me or thinks of me, I know who I am. I can cook and have people over for dinner and not stress or worry about how the food tastes or how my house compares to any other. I can just let God be glorified in whatever way He sees fit.

But that's all icing on the cake. My relationship with God the Father, my life in the Spirit and submission to Jesus is the real cake.

Whatever comes my way, THAT is my reality. Whether the Lord gives or takes away things in this life...His name is still blessed.

And that's what the Cross means to me.

The Story of Our House

Neither of us had a job when we got married. And yet, nearly two weeks ago, Michael carried (er...hoisted seems like a better word) me over the threshold of the home God has given us.

For the first few years of our marriage, jobs came and went. And we had baby after baby. We depended heavily on our parents for financial support.

When we finally had some consistency in the job department, we still didn't live within our means. At one point we took out payday loan after payday loan, getting further and further behind.

We would not pay our bills for months and get our electricity cut off.

All of our cars were given to us or bought for us. We went through several cars in the first ten years of our marriage.

To be honest, I can't believe we ever even TRIED to live on what we lived on. But we were not responsible with what we did have.

When I gave my life truly and fully over to Christ, things started to get better. We gradually began paying our bills consistently. We stopped asking for help from others, and we took care of our bills ourselves. We got off of all government assistance.

Those years were lean. Even when we acted responsibly with our money, there just wasn't enough to go around. God carried us through those years.

And then, we bought our first car. Completely. By. Ourselves.

I couldn't believe that this happened to us.

And then we made every payment on time. Until we were in an accident and it was totaled. And then God blessed us with a newer, fewer miles-on-it car. Which we also bought completely on our own.

We paid our rent and all of our bills completely on our own.

And then...

 Like the redemption story that began thousands of years ago and then culminated in the death of Jesus Christ, God began this story a long time ago.

He prepared us. He changed us. He brought us to the point that we can have a house of our own. A bigger, much nicer house than I ever dreamed we could have. With a recipe book shelf thing that comes from under one of the cabinets. And a Narnia Lamppost. And a chandelier. And a big window in the front to let in lots of light. And big oak trees. AND TWO BATHROOMS. On a beautiful and quiet street.

If I told you all of the things that happened to make this possible...if I told you the things that God obviously did to prepare this house for us and us for this house. You would be amazed.

This house came on the market in October 2015. I started my job in the same month. For over a year the house stayed on the market. If you know anything about the housing market where we live, you will understand how crazy it is that it was still on the market when we started looking.

We looked at 2 houses. And while I really liked this house, it seemed too good for us. But one by one the hurdles that seemed to be present, just disappeared.

I kept waiting for a hang up. But there never was one. Our realtor has commented over and over how rare our experience is.

I believe God did this. I believe He prepared us. I believe He changed us. I believe He prepared this house for us. And I believe he gave it to us.

Even if He hadn't done any of that, He would still be good and awesome.

But HE DID do all of that.

It takes my breath away.

And I thought you should know what an amazing God loves us.

What She Said

In love she said "you know I don't agree with the way you worship...you are leading your kids astray, take care, Hannah, take care".

I called her to tell her that we bought a house. A nice one. Much nicer and bigger than we ever dreamed we would have. God has been good. Much kinder and more gracious than I deserve or even knew to hope for.

But she stopped short of rejoicing, because she believes I have left "the faith" and when my soul is at stake...what's a new house?! 

I wasn't angry. I was sad. And grateful. And full of love. I appreciate her caring for me enough to talk to me about it. Instead of just halting all interactions without explanation.

I know it was motivated by love. I know it hurt her to say. Because I know she loves me.

I took her seriously. I considered her words.

I searched my soul.

I do not believe I am infallible, that I have access to something that other people don't. At some point in the future, we may realize that we got it all wrong. I don't take correction lightly.

I love God. I seek Him. I acknowledge Him. I trust Him. I fear Him.

Not flawlessly. But as much as my spirit, encased by my flesh can do at this point in my spiritual walk, I do.

God says that He will rescue those who love Him. If I seek, I will find. If I trust and  acknowledge, He will direct.

So, I look for fruit. 

A tree is defined by the fruit it bears. Am I bearing the fruit of the Spirit or of the flesh?

The fruit I bear is not the mouths I feed, the hospitality I show or the other works I do. Those are end products that can, even according to Jesus, be performed regardless of the state of the soul who performs them.

The fruit that defines a person who is filled with the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.

Do I see these? Are these apparent in the church community I live in? In me?

I believe they are...growing. I see fruit. And I believe God. I see Him working like never before in my own life and in the lives of others.

As hurtful as it is to know that people I love believe I am going to Hell...my faith is in God.

If I believe Him, I have to believe that He is guiding my steps. And if He is guiding my steps...I am right where I need to be. There is no safer place to be than in the will of God. Regardless of the opinions of man.

The Parenting Advice that I Have Never Read in a Parenting Book

I have a lot of regrets as a mom.

There's not a single moment as a mom that I can point to and say "this is the ONE moment I would do differently". Because there are a million moments I would take back and do differently.

If I HAD to pinpoint something, I would say that I wish I had stepped out of denial sooner. Which translates to...I wish I had known Jesus sooner.

Because Jesus is the one thing that has changed everything.

The thing is, I read tons of parenting books.

I wanted to be a good mom. I wanted to nurture and be a safe haven for my kids...but I wasn't. And no amount of "how to be a good parent" books made a difference -- except to increase my self loathing, condemnation and hopelessness.

The biggest change for me began the day I truly surrendered to God.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't become June Cleaver overnight. But a healing process began. My eyes were opened to the pain and anger I had been denying. And as I allowed God to peel back the layers...to remove the dirty bandages I had placed over my wounds that were now putrid and festering...to reopen those wounds so that I could face them and let Him heal them. I began to forgive others and myself. My heart began to be able to mother differently -- better.

But guess what?! I'm still not June Cleaver.

I struggle with being intentional. Now that my kids are old enough to not climb into my lap with a book or ask for hugs and kisses, there are days when I go to bed and realize that I haven't touched them all day.

And sometimes I relapse into fear and control and I yell at them and bark at them in impatience.

And...I struggle with keeping my word - both in commitments to do things and following up on chores or groundings.

So, I point my kids to God, who loves them perfectly. And I make sure that they know that I need Him desperately and I seek Him passionately and continually too. And I submit to God, admit my powerlessness and His sufficiency every.stinkin.day.

And I pray. Cause I know that the God who loves perfectly will do His thang in them.

And I find comfort in knowing that they have had a front row view of God's power to change lives.