Why I got mad at the eye doctor

I have always hated lack and imperfection, especially when the lack is in me.

When I was in 9th grade, the teacher noticed that I was squinting at the board. With a deep sense of dread, I finally agreed to go to the eye doctor.

Sure enough--I was nearsighted. I flat-out refused to wear the glasses prescribed for me, and bristled at the condescending manner of the doctor.

How DARE he. 

I could not stand the thought that something was wrong with me, and would rather continue squinting than admit deficiency.

Glasses may be a silly example, but I still don't like to see my faults. I cringe to se
e cellulite, my messy kitchen, or the ugliness that can lurk in my heart. Eve and I--we both get this urge to run and hide when we see our nakedness.

But my lack and imperfection is precisely the reason that Jesus came. 

And He didn't come wagging His head at me, hand on hip in disgust. He came running, calling me beloved. 

My emptiness and His abundance are a perfect match. In fact, I was designed to have no sufficiency of my own so that Christ would be all in all. 

Without seeing my glaring deficiency, would I ever turn to the Sufficient One? Probably not. If I were perfect, why would I need the Lord? My hated faults are gradually becoming almost like friends, because anything that brings me to Jesus is a good thing.

And when a perfection-obsessed society gets a glimpse of the Perfect One shining out of this obviously cracked and broken jar, they will say, "Well, it can't be her. It's gotta be Something else."




If you want to dig a little deeper, here are a couple of the verses that God has used to show me truth in this area of my life. (Can you tell I recently read 2 Corinthians? :) )

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."
-2 Corinthians 12:9

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."
-2 Corinthians 4:7

"Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God."
-2 Corinthians 3:5

Nora Beth ♥

My darling niece has finally arrived!

Isn't she just the most beautiful little burrito you ever did see?

Nora Beth made her entrance last Tuesday night at 10:15 pm with a cry and her little hand raised up by her face, as if eager to grasp at the outside world.

My sister and brother-in-law chose not to discover the gender until she was solid and warm in their arms. Just an extra layer of wonder piled on the already incredible mystery of a new person becoming.

When Dad yelled from the kitchen that he had finally gotten THE text, we sisters came thumping and squealing down the stairs. It was gender-reveal party and grand entrance all rolled into one. I think we were a little drunk with the suspense.

Later that night, I finally held her for the first time. With her tiny 7 pound self nestled in my arms, I was struck by two thoughts:

#1. This is the child who will one day be a "cool older cousin" to every one of my future kids. (Such a fun thought! I had amazing older cousins.)

#2. This little girl will never stop existing.

Never.

Once a person begins, they will never vanish or vaporize, even if their bodies turn back to dust. The Bible tells us that we are created to be eternal personalities, forever existing in one state or another. (See Matthew 25:40-46)

And that is not all. We are created to exist forever in relationship with the One who made us.

Sweet Nora, I pray this over you: that your relationship with Him would start early, be deep, and stay strong until you see Him face to face. Welcome to our family, beautiful one.


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Click here to read how my sister first told us that she was pregnant. :)

Finding community in your mailbox

If you’re short on time, skip to the bottom! This post is an invitation to join in on something that really was an awesome experience for me last semester. It was so much fun that I’m doing it again! 

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Community used to be so easy. 

As a kid, Mom made our play dates with families who became like cousins. We had sleepovers, played for hours in blanket forts, and made friendship bracelets that we swore to never remove. "Pretend" was the game, and we created stories elaborate enough to put any soap opera to shame. 

Even after friends went home, my sisters were there. Living with someone binds you together in a million little moments. They blend together, creating a foundation of shared culture. In it are a zillion nuances of understanding that go comfortably unspoken and you hardly have to work at being understood.

Then I grew up and moved out.

Suddenly there were no sisters, no one to put that hangout on my calendar for me. I had to find community for myself.

It has been anything but easy.

At times I flung myself into ministry, thinking this was fellowship. I poured myself into other girls, draining my emotional reserves, never realizing that the way to receive is to come empty, not full and self-sufficient. 

At other times I recoiled, stung by indifference or careless words. Rejection left bruises, and I erected walls to protect myself from more bruises.

But Jesus has been pulling those walls down with his love, helping me forgive and try again. And again.

Seventy times seven.

He has also shown me that community doesn’t always look the same. Life stages come and go. Sometimes community matches the classic images of a cup of steaming coffee in a quiet coffee shop...but most often it doesn’t.

Sometimes it means dashing across the street for a hug because you caught a glimpse of her taking out her trash.

Sometimes it means ditching all your well-made plans for the evening to watch her kids so that she can connect with her mom.

Sometimes it means giving grace and understanding when she can’t return your text for three weeks, or cancels the lunch date for the second time.

And sometimes? Sometimes community looks like writing a card to another woman you’ve never met. 

Last semester I impulsively put my name on a list with a group of other bloggers who decided they were tired of junk mail, who believed in the power of words to encourage. 

As Kaitlyn, one of the organizers put it, 

"Here's the thing: We all use our words in conversations and blog posts and tweets every day. We're already spending them somewhere, but there are times we each need a pick-me-up. We can use our words--our written words--for good."

A week later I received an email with a list of seven other women and helpful instructions. Each week I wrote one note to one of the girls on the list, and each week I received a note from one of them in the mail! 

 It takes no more than five minutes to write a card. Each week, I had so much fun browsing the next woman's blog and twitter feed, looking for clues that would tell me her hopes, her fears, her quirks. I often prayed for her, and it made me feel connected in a way I thought impossible via the internet. 

Because sometimes community is found in your mailbox.

If you want to try it out, sign up HERE. (And don't wait, because the form closes tonight around midnight-ish!)

Five Minute Friday :: Welcome

Every Friday in the blog world, there is a community of writers who gather around a single word. They set aside five minutes, buckle down, and simply write. They write the first things that spring to mind, recklessly putting words down without editing, second-guessing, or fearing what the other bloggers might think.

Some Fridays, I get to join them. When I do, I get the sense that the thoughts in my head, no matter how rough and uncut, are worth sharing. I relish the chance to speak life into another woman's blog, and tell her that her thoughts are valuable too.

This week, the word is Welcome. I want to welcome you to join in too! If you'd like to see what the party is all about, head on over to Kate's place by clicking this link. 



WELCOME.

There she is at an open doorway, face hot with sweat and road dust. She stands uncertain, with one hand on her stomach like pregnant women have a habit of doing.

I had always pictured Mary bounding eagerly down that last mile to Elizabeth's house, bubbling with anticipation. But what if she had been clammy with nerves? Elizabeth lived nearly 100 miles away from Nazareth, and it might have been years since the last visit. What if her stomach had churned and heart had thumped as she willed herself to walk the last two feet through the older women's door?

After all, she was probably an embarrassment to her mother now. Her cousins back in Nazareth might have whispered and looked at her sideways as she passed on the street.

I am the Lord's handmaiden.

Did she second-guess her surrender now that no one understood?

"Hey--Elizabeth?"

Suddenly Elizabeth was laughing and crying and embracing her--sweat and all--against her own swollen belly. Her face glowed with welcome and the secret that Mary hadn't told, but that she somehow already knew.

"Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear!"

The older woman was stopped by a thought, but it was one of humble wonder, not judgment. "But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" Laughing, she clasped Mary's hands and pressed them against her own pregnant bulge. "As soon as I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb leapt for joy!" They were both laughing now. "Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!"

The words pouring out of Elizabeth's mouth were like sweet milk, flowing over Mary's fears and the bruises of rejection. The welcome in her embrace was healing and Mary felt herself bubbling over in praise. Suddenly it came out in tumbling, ecstatic poetry.

Her Magnificat.

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To read how other writers interpreted the word "welcome", click here!