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Category: Character

Grow in grace

June 4, 2017 /

“I’m so tired of being broken!”

I had HAD it.  I was so tired of everything falling apart around me.  I would read my Bible and yet I was still anxious.  I would nurture my marriage and yet we would still experience conflict.  I would pray for healing and yet I was still failing.  And it was one of those weeks where everyone around me seemed to have their lives together.  Their marriage? Healthy and easy.  Their faith? Strong and confident.  Their work? Fulfilling.  Their life? Golden.

Why couldn’t I just be a put together, already faithful, trusting and selfless woman of God?

I was talking with my husband on the phone, and to be honest I was just complaining.  She had this and that.  Her faith never ceases.  They are such good parents.  Why can’t I be a better person?  Why am I so messy? Why does it always feel like God is stretching me and growing me? I just want a break.

And that’s when, before I could stop it, exclaimed my frustration and exhaustion with being broken all the time.

I silenced myself.  I had to really stop and think about what had just come out of my heart.  What did I mean by that?  I was tired of being broken.  I finished the phone call without really understanding what I had just discovered about myself.  

The week went on and I routinely did all the things I thought would make me feel better about myself- read the devotions, listen to worship music, ask for forgiveness over and over and of course just try harder to not be broken. I had chosen to ignore my earlier explosion and was back to avoiding my brokenness.

Have you ever tried to hide and cover up your weaknesses?  Like Adam and Eve in the garden grabbing flimsy leaves to cover up what could only be clothed by the blood of a Savior’s sacrifice?  Maybe you hide your weakness by not telling anyone. Maybe you hide them with just trying harder, like me.  But God is a relentless and pursuing lover so He gently laid on my heart, “Daughter, why does it matter?”

Let me explain.  See, I love sharing my struggles; and I think I always thought it was because I wanted to encourage others. And it absolutely is!  But God revealed to me that there is a part of me that shares my weaknesses in hope that others will share too- so that I don’t have to be broken alone.  Misery loves company right?  But as I shared with people who really just didn’t struggle like me I found myself getting frustrated.  

It wasn’t until God pulled me aside like a little child and whispered to my soul that I didn’t need any excuses for my brokenness.  “I know you are broken”, He says, “and that’s exactly how I want you. My grace is sufficient for you, for My Power is made perfect in your weakness.”  

Why did I hate my weakness so much?  Why did I run from being broken?  

I was scrolling through Pinterest and came across this picture.

I set it as my wallpaper having no idea it would become my new anthem.  Grow in grace.  I began praying that God would help me to grow in grace for others.  Quickly I realized that He wanted me to grow in grace for myself.  

“Give yourself grace, little one.   It’s ok that you are broken.  You are not less than if you are struggling.  Like a cracked pot, I shine my Light through your flaws.”

I was reading a friend’s article  and his perspective stuck with me;

“It’s about messing up and repenting, matching our steps up with His to jump back in.  It’s the experience of God’s holiness in us and our agreement to express His holiness through us.”

What if in this state of brokenness we are exactly where we are suppose to be?  What if sanctification is actually the art of accepting our brokenness and realizing that we need help?  And praise God the help we need comes from His loving, gracious Hands!

Let’s learn to EMBRACE our brokenness. To truly listen when Jesus says, “You are enough.  You are ok.”  To not be ashamed with our struggles but to view them as a reminder of our need.  To be proud of our scars and our cracks, because we are proud of our Jesus shining through them.  To grow in grace, and grow in brokenness as Jesus grows in us.  

–Sophie

Sophie Jow is a wife, coffee enthusiast, adventure seeker, and first time blogger/vlogger.  Sophie’s Corner, launched just in April, celebrates authentic and messy living with Christ and exploring local businesses and artists. You can follow her blog on Instagram at @sophiescornerblog. 

Riggedy jig and away we go- A tribute to grandma

March 22, 2017 /

Today we said goodbye to my grandma.  A memorial day of beautiful, bittter-sweet moments.  And somehow I feel the need to pen a few thoughts before the sun sets on this sacred day.

I’m  fighting to hear her voice again, her laughter ring in my ears. Suddenly this memory surfaces  and I can hear her sing with all gusto ..

.”…Rrr—iggedy jig and away we go, away we go, away we go, riggedy jig and away we go hi -ho, hi -ho,hi -ho.”

I’m 5 again, her soft hand holding mine and my little brother’s on her right.  We’re skipping up the hill by her house off on another grand adventure. Her little poodle, Tuffy tags along and discovers a butterfly on the sidewalk’s edge. Grandma stops us abruptly…  ” Look!!” She exclaims with a twinkle in her eye- “Isn’t that just won-der-ful!” she claps her hands with delight. “Our God is SO good to show us that!!” And then the song resumes and we skip off again into a world full of possibilities.

You see, this.  THIS is how she saw life.  Each day, a gift from Her creator and one step closer to Heaven.  Her eyes were trained to see the beauty all around and she’d often invite others to share in her joy.

I remember the house she and grandpa lived in and how excited we’d be to knock on that thick brown glass door and ring her cathedral chime doorbell.

I remember the front room, and how perfectly clean it was, doilies  covering every table top surface. To a little girl it appeared to be a mansion!!! I remember the honkey- tonk  piano and organ and how I learned my first piano pieces there by her side.

I remember the glass jars of peach rings, Werther’s originals, and Hershey chocolate nugget gold bars. (She’d always encourage us to sneak a few even in our grown up years).  I remember their den where she sat me on her lap and taught me to sew and the stories she’d tell tell while we did. She could captivate any audience with her stories, but children especially. I remember the smell of her lavender soap when we took baths there on overnight stays.

I remember childhood mornings or later in college when I often crashed there for the night. One thing never changed…the morning routine: the smell of coffee brewing, a hot bowl of oatmeal decorated with brown sugar and raisins, and sweet rolls on dainty glass plates at the table in the enclosed patio room. Grandma and Grandpa would begin every day (rain or shine, camping or home, healthy or sick) by cracking open the weathered blue Bible and reading a portion of scripture, then praying for each family member by name.

And then grandma would get up and fill the three bird feeders outside the window with a koolaid- red liquid. We’d  watch with anticipation  to notice which birds might come to visit  THAT day.   Hummingbirds were her absolute  favorite.

And she’d marvel at how God made such tiny creatures who could fly so fast. “Only He could design something like that. …and just imagine, if He could provide for the sparrows how much more will He take care of us??” She’d say.

She loved the Lord and His Word. One year, while taking care of my grandpa with Alzheimer’s, things were getting especially rough. Grandma had cared for him tirelessly.  She explained how Psalm 91 was her anchor. And she told us any grandchild who memorized  the chapter would get $10. We followed bait, line and sinker -dollar signs in our eyes.. “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High God, will rest in the shadow of the Almighty....” What Grandma knew was that  $10 was a tiny investment compared to the deposit it made in our personal journeys with God.  For each of us, we’ve  clung  to those memorized truths in our toughest days.

We loved doing life with her. Each of the grandkids (and even our spouses) have a chapter we can point back to of weekly meals/Bible studies/scrabble games with Grandma. And we treasure those memories. She was just the type of lady people wanted to be around. Her joy and laughter, contagious.  

In recent  years my little family would accompany my dad and visit her at the retirement home where she lived. Though dementia was sneaking its way in, she had these great moments  of wit and humor. We’d sing and laugh together. She’d marvel at the kids’ voices saying “beau-ti-ful !!” and maybe encourage them to take a ride on her motorized scooter or “for Pete’s sake”  at least have “nut and chew” See’s candy.  We’d all leave encouraged and happy. That’s the affect she had on people.

Then one Tuesday morning  in February, just after her 92nd birthday, she woke with a stomach ache and was surprisingly gone within the hour.

As the doors to the hospital were being thrown open..the gates of heaven were doing the same. Heaven gained a saint.

Days later, I  helped my dad clean out her room, and a lady named Martha  stopped  by. With tears in her eyes she said, “I’m the housekeeper. Every Monday I’m here cleaning but I save your grandma’s room for last. She’s always here watching TBN and after my shift I sit for a spell and we sing hymns together and then we pray. There’s a lot of darkness in this world but she, she was a light of Jesus.”

I sat on grandma’s bed with Martha  that day and cried big, fat, ugly tears because it wasn’t just US who knew the wonder of our grandma..it was everyone who came in contact with her. And even in her last days, when her mind was foggy and dementia set in….her foundation stood firm. She delighted in God and loved His people.

So tonight as the casket has been lowered, the ceremonies concluded, and the sun sets on the hills, I imagine Grandma looking down from heaven with that twinkle in her eye saying (like she did at the end of every phone call) “goodbye dearie.”

And I imagine her skipping off into heaven singing: “riggedy jig and away we go…hi -ho, hi -ho, hi- ho..”

Goodbye Grandma. We will miss you.

-Alyssa

and… REPEAT

February 1, 2017 /

In November we practice GRATITUDE.

December – JOY.

January – NEW rythyms.

By February we’re distracted and BUSY.

Then, *poof* another year flashes by.

Imagine if we turned these Nov/Dec/Jan practices into a cycle that begins it’s second rotation every February.

Some might argue that February is for love.  But I say, what is love without gratitude?

I wish I was naturally thankful; a person from whom gratitude springs forth like a spunky cheerleader.  I sure admire friends who seem to offer it naturally AND authentically.  Man, they can change the world!!

For me, gratitude requires intentionality and tons of practice.  I have to literally force myself to STOP and formulate a ‘thank you’.  Otherwise the day flies by with barely more than a passing thought about the good, good gifts in my midst.

Perhaps that’s why I’m voting we expand the month of thanks-giving to other parts of the year, because, selfishly, I need an entire year to truly get the hang of it.

Plus, authentic gratitude leads to joy. Which then opens our eyes to clearer judgement for new rhythms.  And, new rhythms allow us the bandwidth to be present.

Dear ones, we have the potential to replace our *poof* years with the gift of presence!!!

Imagine being the generations who lead the younger ones to engage each other with eyes wide open.

I’ve recently been disappointed by some ‘no’s’ but, as Janel Thomas modeled in last week’s post (No and Yes) I’m forcing my heart to remember, and say thank you for, a few of God’s ‘yes’s’.

Father, thank you for understanding my disappointments and gently reminding me of a few victories.  Thank you for teaching me about trust.

 

Comment with your own ‘thank you’ statement.  Let’s practice gratitude together.

-Laura

Do the Hustle

January 9, 2017 /

I think I was born with an irregular heartbeat. Doctors didn’t diagnose me with that, but I seem to have this rapidly moving clock ticking inside me that seems to tick quicker and louder for me than for others.

Here’s the thing. I like being PRO-DUC-TIVE.

What I can accomplish in one hour of un-interrupted time is astounding…and I take pride in listing off all the ways I was “productive” when my husband asks about my day across the dinner table.

But the problem I keep running in to is this: I struggle with ever slowing down the hustle.

There’s always more.

The kids were off school for 3 weeks and my professor husband and I were off too. ( I know… a luxury). And truthfully, I probably actually “rested” like 4 out of 21  days. I ALMOST finished ONE short book, stayed in my pajama/workout clothes until lunch a couple days, and put off laundry for at least three. And then for some reason like a little white plastic kitchen timer, this last week my clock DINGED and I was off again to the races.

“Do the hustle….da,da,da, da,”- I can hear the song, can’t you?

But for me, that hustle melody sounds a lot less peppy and chicken-danceish, and much more melancholy and minor.

It sounds like overcommitting myself, and underestimating how much TIME something is gonna take, and being 15 minutes late (AGAIN).

It sounds like a rush of wind, and slamming cabinets, and objects dropping on the floor.

It sounds like four mostly-done projects and forgetting an important ingredient in that recipe because I’m multi-tasking.

It sounds like me running around like a chicken with my head cut off…. Always a counter to wipe, a piece of clothing to fold, an “urgent” text or email to send, and a “I only-half-listened to you because my mind is a hundred-other- places” response.

It sounds like me speed walking ahead of instead of along-side people.

I see it and I don’t like it, but with all the responsibilities of momhood, and jobhood, and wifehood, and friendhood, and ministryhood I don’t totally know how to stop the hustle inside of me.

Faster, faster, more, more.

Disappointment at the end of the day about what I didn’t accomplish instead of treasuring sacred moments that actually did happen.

I sat down tonight (for the first time in umm….10 hours) and opened a real- life book to try to downshift my heart. I turned  to this two-page chapter that completely floored me. “Learning to play” and that author Shauna Niequist saw right into my heart…

“It’s that for all sorts of reasons

I default to HUSTLE mode all too often

And so one of the tiny little things I’m learning to do is to play-

essentially to purposely WASTE time.

Strategically avoid strategy, for five minutes at a time.

Intentionally not be intentional about every second.

Have no purpose-on purpose.”

This may sound ridiculous to you who actually know how to sit on the couch for longer than 30 minutes without feeling guilty. Those who are running through the house with your kids playing hide-n-seek. Those who have trouble getting out of their pajamas on vacations or waiting one more day to shower.

I’m married to one of you.

And though you bother me (especially when you see my frantic pace and comment, “busy…busy…busy”). I hear you, and it’s true.

 Now, don’t get me wrong there is something to be said for a basket of clean, folded clothes, and a house put in order, and tasks completed responsibly. But there’s also something to be said for being fully present and learning to rest.

There’s that overused Bible story of Mary and Martha;  I feel like I gotta stand up for Martha who is the only one DOING anything around that house – preparing for these people. Luke says. “She was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made…” Yep. Distracted by stuff to be done.  Umm…can you relate?

Martha speaks up… “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?” Oh..I can camp out on that martyr plea too. “Join me in my hustle, would ya? There are things to be done here! ” But Jesus answers her (and us) gently…”You are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is BETTER and it will not be taken away from her” (Luke. 10:39-41).

Sister Mary chose to sit at Jesus’ feet to listen, and look eyeball- to- eyeball, while Martha clanked and buzzed around the kitchen. Mary: fully present. Soul rest. Simplicity. Savoring, slowing, playing. “Making the most of every opportunity” realizing our days are fleeting. I know I’ve gotta care for our home, and be responsible, but I also want to learn the art of SLOWING down the HUSTLE.

Morbid thought:  no one is gonna talk about my productivity at my funeral. They will talk about my character and how I loved.

It is very much a perspective thing. So today, fellow hustlers… let’s breathe.  Picture Mary. Sit for a bit and show up for our lives with our people, so we don’t miss the BETTER while we’re in the hustle.

–Alyssa

Cleaning Up the Mess

January 4, 2017 /

It’s a new year and this year as I packed up my Christmas decorations, I entered into purging mode. My house is still in somewhat of a disarray as I have been going through every room and pulling out the stuff we just don’t use anymore; the excess and clutter. The one room that is the worst is my art studio. Ya’ll, it is so bad. It’s the room that ‘collects’ things, you know what I’m talking about? Like everything. If something doesn’t have a place…art studio it is. Plus, I never ended up actually unpacking that room when we moved in a year and a half ago.

I know, classy huh? The thing is, I’m a creative, and well…I’m not really great at organization. Or putting things back. And although I work very hard at keeping my house clean downstairs…my upstairs is another story. Since my studio is a room where no one but me ever goes into, you can only imagine how motivated I am to organize it. So, I’ve been working hard to clean, purge, and get that room orderly. It’s going to be so lovely, I know it. But in this phase, it’s just hard work.

 

What prompted all of this, was that my family has been cleaning and clearing out my grandmother’s estate. We lost her in October and it has taken months to go through everything. It’s quite a process, since my sweet grandma was a collector of many things! MANY things.  And, I know I inherited my somewhat ‘messy’ creative ways from her. So cleaning the house has been a huge job, a difficult job, and a frustrating job.
Cleaning up a mess always is.
Cleaning up someone else’s mess is even more so.
Even when you love that person.

All this cleaning has made me think about how our hearts can be “messy”. They can become cluttered with things like discontentment, undiscipline, pride, or fear. God has promised to clean our messy hearts for us, since we just can’t do it ourselves.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just

and will forgive us our sins

and purify us from all unrighteousness.

1 John 1:9 ESV {emphasis mine}

I realized something about how I often view this cleansing from him. I assume he feels like I do about cleaning up someone else’s big mess. I assume he looks at my messy cluttered heart, and sighs. That he is annoyed at the fact that he has to clean it up, again. And so I catch myself trying to clean it up on my own. Like maybe if I take care of some of the clutter it’ll make the job not as frustrating?

He gently showed me I couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I feel frustration and annoyance at cleaning someone else’s mess because I am human.

But God’s not human.

We were made in his image, he is not a reflection of ours.

I sometimes make the mistake of ascribing human characteristics to him.  But he does not reflect our humanness.

He is so much more. He is patient and merciful. He is everlasting in his love. He sanctifies us because that’s just what his holy goodness does. He loves us, sees what our hearts will look like, and is not disturbed by our mess.

Jesus showed us this side of God’s character when he had no problem touching lepers, or dining with society’s outcasts, or being born in a dirty stable rather than a palace. He came and walked with the messy, and he showed no contempt for it. Instead he cleansed it.

Today, if you find your heart has become cluttered and maybe a bit messy like mine, let’s invite him in to clean and purge. Trust that he is not annoyed, that he loves the invitation and has big plans to make it lovely again.

-Kallie

 

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