I pray at the kitchen sink more than anywhere else.
I think it’s something to do with the soothing warm water and the fact that washing dishes is a focused task. Compared to, say, cleaning up the living room, which has me rabbit trailing between toys and books and the old carpet stain I keep meaning to re-treat and the nagging reminder from an overstuffed basket that I need to sort through the mail.
At the kitchen sink there are only dishes and soap suds and my thoughts.
Late at night while the household sleeps I straggle into the kitchen between cleaning up and bedtime to find peace in a sink full of waiting dishes. And before I know it I am turning over more than cups; I am sharing what I find in the back of my mind with the God who meets me in my unconventional kitchen.
So it is that as I rinse my bright red frying pan I find myself praying desperate dreams for the future
I pray for what I want, but rarely for what I have.
Until I was recently reminded of this verse: “Ask rain from the Lord in the season of the spring rain, from the Lord who makes the storm clouds, and he will give them showers of rain . . . .” Zechariah 10:1 (ESV).
In the season of rain, pray for rain.
And suddenly it’s New Year’s Eve 1999, and I’m back on a dry game farm in Zimbabwe surrounded by farmers who haven’t seen decent rain in months. These sun-weathered men sit in their rough clothes at a long table that’s been set for dinner under the Southern Cross. The soft linens and delicate place settings are a quirky contrast to those seated before them ready to toast in the new millennium.
The first course is cucumber soup.
But with first bites come cold, hard drops. The soup ricochets up at those dipping spoons down into it. Rough faces and beards are splattered green. Cucumber soup everywhere but in our mouths.
Rain. Long looked for rain pelts down from the clouds that are our only ceiling tonight. I prepare to make a dash for it – to shelter and warmth and the inside of the lodge.
But I am the only one to move.
A table of grown men carries on their meal as the rain falls down and the soup splashes up. The thunder and force of the water is so loud that it crowds out any attempt at conversation.
But their actions speak louder than words and my father interprets them for me, “They won’t leave the rain, because they don’t want it to leave them.” In the season of rain, they want more rain. And they are afraid if they get up it will be over.
With soap suds up to my elbows I lean on the sink, remembering.
What I have now is once what I wanted so desperately: healed marriage, healthy children, the beginnings of meaningful work. I don’t want to lose sight of these in the chase after my next prayer request.
In the season of rain – still – pray for rain. Presume nothing; take nothing for granted; treasure everything.
Because, once the rain begins and sends soup splashing all over you, it’s tempting to walk away from the answered prayer and move on to the next thing.
I do not want to do that.
I want to sit and revel in what God has given me here and now. I want it to splash up and onto and all over me. I want to pray for its protection and its continuation.
Daily, between soap suds and dirty dishes, I want to pray for what I have.
How about you – what were you once desperate for?What have you been given? What do you need to remember to treasure?
Lisa-Jo is South African by birth and American by marriage. She blogs at www.thegypsymama.com about life lived in between countries, callings, and kids.
Every day, the new year calls to me. A blank slate, a fresh page. Another chapter waits to be written, with the proverbial pen poised in mid-air.
It's simply unavoidable. I get a little preoccupied these first few weeks, trying to figure out what God wants for me this year.
I know, I know. Everybody who is anybody wants to be more, do better, and get going on it -- Now.
I'm no different. Wanna look into my closet of goals and aspirations? Step right up - a pile stands before us. It's a collection of parts of who I am and who I'd like to become. Among a motley crew of hopes, dreams, and disappointments, you'll find long-faded resolutions.
There is, however, one well-worn, wishful commitment that dwarfs all others. It gets renewed every year.
Like a precious box of mementos tucked in the back of the closet, a light in my soul may dim, but still burns.
In that heap of everything and nothing, something sparks eternal. It is the longing to be close to God.
Waves and Sand Castles
I always wish for this. Each year, I purpose to draw closer -- and more regularly -- with the Lover of my Soul. Without warning, I can wake up to find my determination dissipated.
It feels like I'm building sand castles in the path of a wave that seems to always find me. And wherever I move to rebuild a new one, it follows.
Sometimes, I want to just give it up, and put my bucket and shovel away.
Then, a Deeper Intuition calls me.
Come back. And stay.
A Deeper Intuition
The Holy Spirit won't let me walk away. He wants me returning. Not even the waves of guilt can wash away His prompting to turn and walk the narrow way.
It's not easy, but I think this coming and going is a just a day in the life under God's grace. What Quaker missionary Thomas Kelly calls "stayedness" is a craving that won't ever go away.
How can I get closer and wander less, so my heart in peace can stay?
The Gift of Return
Against flimsiness and flightedness, God's voice punctuates with a powerful combination of gentleness, persistence and resolve.
Return. Now.
Not with self-recriminations or guilty, disparaging words that drain.
No, this Voice prompts. Come to simply receive.
Just when I think it is too late -- too much time and wanderings stretched between us -- this Deeper Intuition invites me to receive.
Despite our misgivings, something in us believes God lavishes what our heart confesses: GRACE.
What is the "heart-stuff" that frees Holley to write with such transparency? Which book helped her turn the corner with grief? Don't miss Holley's heartfelt sharing, as Bonnie Gray delves into the faith walk behind the Heart to Heart gal!
Bonnie Gray is a writer fascinated with keeping faith fresh in the daily grind. Blogging as Faith Barista, she serves up shots of faith for everyday living.
I'm about to blow the lid off of your belief system.
Here we go.
I. Am. Not. A. Genius.
Breathe, and then let's just move on. You can pray through that heartbreaking reality later.
Here's how I know I'm not a genius. I just had to google "grace."
I know I need it.
I know I don't deserve it.
I know I can sing songs about it.
But if you want a definition, I don't know.
According to Wikipedia (that in general, I do NOT trust but that is really a post for a later day), grace is the unmerited favor of God.
Well. If there is one thing that characterizes my life it is UNMERITED FAVOR.
Sheesh.
I'm a mess. I'm a handful. I'm a sinner and a failure. I say too much. What I lack in discipline I make up for in overindulgence. I am one part over-committed and one part under-committed.
[You are just DYING to be my friend now, aren't you?]
I'm underwhelming, yet He chooses me.
I'm overwhelming, yet He never leaves my side.
I'm undeserving, yet He picks me.
I am loved. I am favored. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My every step is calculated and under the watchful eye of a loving Father.
I am surrounded. I am hemmed in. I am protected.
My definition of grace? I was standing alone, in a puddle of mud, when God picked me up and set me in a flowery field, let me rest, and gave me a strawberry milkshake to drink.
Honestly, I don't know if that's grace. I am not about to rush out and start tossing grace-laced sentences all over the streets of my town and telling folks that God gives out free milkshakes.
[But I hope we have lots of them in Heaven.]
All I know is that I am the definition of UNMERITED.
Annie Downs tells stories for a living as a freelance writer in Nashville, Tennessee. Flawed but funny, Annie uses her writing to highlight the everyday goodness of...
Holley Gerth, cofounder and editor of (in)courage, writer for DaySpring, freelancer, soon-to-be counselor, wife of Mark, lover of Jesus, friend to YOU.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.(Kahlil Gibran)
Last night we had friends over for dinner. After we put our daughter to bed and polished off a pan of chicken enchiladas, I cleaned off the table and opened up our game closet. (Also known as our coat closet, but “game closet” sounds oh-so fancy, doesn’t it?)
We briefly considered Boggle and I pulled for the old standard, Scattergories, but we eventually decided on 90s Trivial Pursuit. As we set it up and debated whether or not reading the rules was in order, I said, “Mark got this for me a few Christmases ago, and I was so excited.”
As a matter of fact, I could tell you everything my husband gave me for Christmas that year – four years ago. Because he actually got me things I wanted.
See, my love language is gift giving. And while you might think this would make Christmas an automatic WIN for me, it does not.
Because nobody ever lives up to my expectations.
See, there’s not much I enjoy more than thinking up and buying or making the perfect gift for the people in my life. By giving them the perfect gift, you see, I’m showing them that I know them – and their personality/tastes/deepest desires – better than anyone else. By handing them the beautifully wrapped present that looks like it came from a fancy store but was really bought on sale, I’m showing them that I can love them (love as a verb, of course, not a mere emotion) better than anyone else.
I’m showing them that I’m better than anyone else.
So when the recipient of my Best Gift Ever doesn’t react the way I want – in other words, gushing about how it’s a perfect present and how I’m the best wife/daughter/cousin/friend ever – well, I’m a little offended. Disappointed, even. Okay, I’m crushed.
[Did I mention that words of affirmation is my other love language?]
In the same way, I have perfectly ridiculous expectations of those who give me gifts. Because if they can’t give me something that illustrates how well they know me, how much they love me, how important I am, then clearly something is wrong.
I’m pretty sure I’ve been missing out on the joy of gift giving. A little ironic, given my penchant for presents, right?
This holiday season, I’m determined to give and receive with a better attitude. Because I’ve realized that by wrapping gifts in expectations as well as tissue paper and ribbon, I’m missing out on – and keeping others from enjoying – the joy of giving.
Are you ever disappointed by presents you receive? Do you wrap the gifts you give with expectations? Or do you truly believe that it’s the thought that counts?
P.S. You’re invited to my Giving Up on a Perfect Christmas carnival and giveaway this Friday. Have you ever eaten broken all the Christmas cookies? Or broken the news to your nephew that Santa Claus might not be real? Get frostbite while Christmas caroling or perform an embarrassing solo at the office party? Or accidentally electrocute the cat with Christmas lights?
No matter what kind of story you have, write a post and link up! Then enter to win a Lisa Leonard necklace. I hope to see you there, and I hope you have a wonderful, merry Christmas!
Mary is a full-time working mom of a sweet, sassy toddler and wife to her high-school sweetheart. When she's not snapping photos left and right, reading a good book...
Finding out what happens when you look for opportunities to give. To start from Day 1, click here.
Not exactly what I wanted to do on a Saturday night, but I had committed to doing a service project with the 9th grade girls that I mentor. I don't think they were ecstatic about it either, but we held each other accountable and showed up.
The event was at the Boys and Girls Club, sponsored by a local church. The idea was that families would come and have a free meal, listen to incredible music and worship, and choose a toy for their children. This was The Great Giveaway.
Our job was to entertain the little ones while the over 500 needy families waited for their number to be called.They came with soiled and smelly clothes, most having their first meal of the day. Some spoke English others didn't. Some didn't say much, others were looking for a new best friend.
'My girls' were amazing. They didn't see 'different' or 'dirty.' They weren't taken back by what poverty or what a Daddy in prison can do to a family, but they loved these children like Jesus would. I began to no longer see them, but I saw Him. They were being transformed right in front of my eyes. . . and so were the kids.
The Giveaway was a huge success. More food and toys were given away than any other year. More families were prayed for and more connections made into this community of need. And we drove away thanking the Lord for our blessings and knowing we would never be the same.
I received this email today from one of my 9th grader's moms.
[My daughter] enjoyed Saturday so much.............she talked about it for a long time after she got home.......she realized she is very blessed. I think all the girls are realizing how blessed they are. Thanks for putting the time and effort into building these relationships.........its so important right now.
When I read words like this I know a few hours of my time are well worth giving away. I know the great giveaway couldn't have happened if it wasn't for the ultimate Giveaway, that poured into us freely and we easily overpour to others. I know my heart is warm with love and overflows with joy.
"I can count a million times people asking me how I can praise You with all that I've gone through. The question just amazes me, can circumstances possibly change who I forever am in You?" -MercyMe
That is Emma's hand catching rain. This pictures really touches my heart because it captures perfectly how our family chooses to accept the "rain" instead of run from it. So many times people approach us and tell us how strong we are... how brave we must be to take on all that we have, including my cancer and a daughter with special needs.
I never really thought we were brave, and most of the time we are not strong. What options do we have? We could either wallow in the heartache or we can praise Him through the storms.
Christ took on so much more than we could ever imagine. He never promised us that this life would be easy. He never promised that we would never experience pain or heartache.
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."John 16:33
I often lay in bed at night and feel the weight of my life on my shoulders and the tears well up. I think about my family, how much they have gone through and how much more they are going to go through. It is easy to sink when you think those thoughts. Yet in those moments, I feel Him gently nudge me and quietly say "I am still here." If I let Him, He will guide my footsteps and guard my heart.
The choice is mine.
"I am yours regardless of the clouds that may loom above because you are much greater than my pain. You who made a way for me, suffering your destiny. So tell me what's a little rain?" - MercyMe
So I choose to face my days with hope. I know that in every circumstance in my life, He is already there.
Nothing can take Him off of His throne...
How do you handle difficult circumstances? Do you face them already defeated or do you battle through? Trust me, I know it is hard. Yet I know it is so worth it! God longs to have you call out to Him. Christmas reminds us He came to us...and we can always come to Him. What are you waiting for?
Heather is a brain cancer survivor who lives life on the edge. She loves her family, her bald head and, most of all, her Savior's grace. She lives in the sunny...
I have a list. (Surprising, no?) A list of questions that I plan to ask God as soon as I get to heaven. It’s not a real long list, but it has some of the most important questions in my heart:
Why did my friend Carrie have to die in that car accident?
Why did my mother-in-law have to die before she was even 50?
Why did God send me to grad school? (Why didn’t I love grad school?)
Why didn’t our church plant work?
Why did I lose my job while I was pregnant?
Why are Annalyn and I okay and healthy (despite a delivery at 33 weeks)?
These are the hard questions of life. Or at least of my life.
Don’t ask me to ponder why the sky is blue or why birds sing or if zebras are white with black stripes or black with white stripes. We can figure out those things (some of us can recall our biology classes, the rest of us can look it up on Google), and they don’t impact my heart anyway.
But these things that don’t make sense, that don’t fit into a box, that don’t stay resolved – these are the things I long to ask God. Until then, though, I’m thankful that God has the answers. Even if I don’t.
No, especially if I don’t.
Because when it comes down to it, I don’t have to understand or even like the way things are. But I believe that God has a reason, an answer. And part of me is glad that my God is so big that no one can know His thoughts but Him.
As it is written: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him" – but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. (1 Corinthians 2:9-10)
I’m thankful (especially this time of year) to love, serve, and know a God big enough for my questions . . . and His answers.
Are the holidays ever hard for you? What are the questions on your list?
Mary is a full-time working mom of a sweet, sassy toddler and wife to her high-school sweetheart. When she's not snapping photos left and right, reading a good book...
She was 29. Younger than I am now. Two little girls and a life ahead of her.
Then polio knocked on the door of her body, entered unbidden, and left her in a hospital bed paralyzed from the waist down.
My grandmother suddenly faced a future very different than what she had imagined.
A pastor came and spoke in hushed tones. Then he shared powerful words that changed the course of her heart, "Frances," he said, "You can choose to let this make you bitter or better."
She chose better.
I don't think she realized it at the time, but by choosing it for herself she chose it for the rest of us too.
My grandmother lived until the age of 74 with a twinkle in her eyes and a smile on her face.
I never heard her complain or speak an unkind word about anyone.
She ran a Christian bookstore with my Grandpa Hollie. People used to ask her where she found her joy...and she loved to tell them.
This Christmas it will be ten years since she slipped into eternity in her sleep.
Ten years--and I can still hear her voice. She whispers to me in life's difficult moments, a hint of laughter around the edges, "Choose better, Holley," she reminds me.
I learned from my grandmother that gratitude is a decision. It's also a gift; it multiplies and spreads to those around us.
Is it easy? No. Is it worth it? Yes.
This Thanksgiving when the food is on the table and plates are passed around I know I'll feel full before we ever take the first bite--overflowing with thankfulness for a woman who made a choice long ago that still nourishes our family today.
Thank you, Nana, for choosing better.
God, give us the courage to do the same.
Update: I'm with my family today and I carried the laptop out to the breakfast table to surprise them with this story. We gathered around and looked into the glow, each of us lost in our memories. Then my grandfather said, "Well, you know Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday--that's when they told her she could come home from the hospital for good."
My Mom snatched a tattered piece of paper from a drawer titled "What Thansgiving Means to Me" written by my Nana. In it she tells the same story I do here and expresses her gratitude. Then she closes with the beautiful sentence below. I pray her words bring joy to your heart and family just as they have ours...
"May we always remember to be grateful for today, to forget yesterday, and leave the tomorrows for God to give as He sees fit."
p.s. My much-loved Grandpa Hollie (in these photos) is having surgery tomorrow. Will you please pray for him?
Holley Gerth, cofounder and editor of (in)courage, writer for DaySpring, freelancer, soon-to-be counselor, wife of Mark, lover of Jesus, friend to YOU.
A couple of years back, my Balcony Girls and I met for an afternoon full of excitement and anticipation as we came together to learn a lesson on gratitude.
Gratitude: A feeling of being grateful or thankful. It comes from being content and it comes from our hearts.
Balcony Girls is a group of girls I meet with to discuss relationships. Girl relationships. How to build one another up. And the lesson this day may seem like a simple task, but to a young girl, learning how to write a thank you note ties in well with a thankful heart.
Keeping gratitude in mind, how do you pen your thoughts to someone, thanking them for a kind act or a gift?
My friend, who did the lesson with me on this day, read from an old etiquette book examples of how, many years ago, people would write long thank you notes, which were quite detailed.
It seems like sometimes we go for days without saying, “thank you.”
When we lose the ability to say “thanks,” we start to get self- centered and “me” oriented. That is a sad state to be in, I told the girls.
When we neglect to say “thank you” (or express appreciation), is it because we are afraid that someone else is somehow better than us? And we are less?
Or is it FEAR (false evidence appearing real), or insecurity or competitiveness that has gotten in the way? (Very common with girls!) Or is it sheer thoughtlessness, that we don’t think of how a person sacrificed or put out for us enough to be grateful to them for their effort?
Saying, “thank you” makes the other person feel special and spreads love. It also increases the chance that that person will want to do more good!
It’s give and take – appreciation and giving thanks.
There’s no competition involved!! When you put a lot of time and love into a gift, and you're not validated in return with a “thank you,” it makes you not want to send a gift to that person again!
After the girls had their snack of mini hamburgers, chips and juice, I shared with them a little secret of what I often do when I lie in bed and can’t go to sleep! I pray, and then I start making a list in my head for things that I am grateful for. And people I am thankful for.
Instead of complaining about what I don’t have, I’m thankful for what I do have!
Life does not owe us personal fulfillment, happiness or contentment. These are the results of gratitude. It all starts with appreciating what we have.
The obvious things we are thankful for are what we have (home, food, family) and what others do for us (trips, laundry, gifts, care)! But for Balcony Girls who are focusing on friendships, what about being thankful for support, encouragement, trust, and being able to share with one another?
Ending with this very mature way of looking at gratitude, I am hoping that the girls will grasp this concept and be able to take gratitude one step further (outside of themselves - it’s not always about me!).
I hope that they will also learn to take the opportunity to help the less fortunate, whether with health, financial or social needs – and find that it is a privilege to share the burdens or pains of others.
I was so grateful to my friend who opened her home, who shared food and time with us, such beautiful acts of kindness. Her willingness to help me out was a huge gift.
Yes, an attitude of gratitude was instilled in our hearts, a perfect lesson for this Thanksgiving season.
Gratitude does not end with our private thanks to God, but overflows to those who touch our lives.
