How Was the Conference?

“How was your trip?” or “How was the She Speaks conference?” or “How did your book thing go?” is the question of the month for me. And while I want to give a quick answer because I know most people are asking as a nicety, I also want to give an honest answer.

The problem is the honest answer is convoluted and complicated.

I could reply with the shortest answer and say, “It was a great experience. I learned so much, met so many lovely people, and had encouraging meetings with publishers.” The people asking about my trip as a nicety are happy with that answer and reply, “That’s good news!”

Then there’s the medium-length answer: “It was a great experience. Nine of us began a deep friendship in 72 hours, which formed the foundation for a weekend where God blew my mind. I got an inside look at the life of a writer and how it affects so much more than I expected. And my publisher meetings answered a lot of questions and gave me good feedback about where to head next. Then I ended the conference with a clear conviction from God about taking a pause for intention and direction.” The friends who are interested and intrigued are satisfied with that answer and follow it up with a few questions to flesh things out and may even end it with a promised prayer or a request to keep them updated on the way the book and process unfolds.

Then there are lovely souls God has placed in my life who specifically request set-aside time with me so they can say, “Tell me EVERY detail!” and they truly want to hear every. stinkin’. part! The rest of this post is partly for them, and partly for me so I have a record when the day comes and my memory has fuzzed over the details.

It’s been a month since the conference, and I’m just now sitting down to wade through all it entailed. Yes, I’ve thought through it since then and I’ve talked about it too. But writing it through a keyboard is a deeper level of processing for me, and it’s something I didn’t feel ready or free to do quite yet. Until today! So let’s start at the start.

The first best part of the conference is the part about my Group of Nine. The night before the conference officially started, I had dinner with eight women God hand-picked for me. These women immediately plunged in and loved with abandon. They asked about the details of each others’ lives, cried with each other, laughed and encouraged. It was incredibly beautiful and a rare gift. These women stood by me throughout the conference, saved seats for me at meals and breakout sessions, fed me gluten free food when I couldn’t find anything to eat, prayed over me without being asked, invited me into their hotel rooms and their hearts, and stood beside me in worship. They are one of the biggest reasons I had such a moving experience at the conference.

The second best part of the conference is the education I received. From the opening session (where Lysa TerKeurst’s family joined her on stage to talk about how Lysa’s calling has changed the course of the family’s life) to the closing session (where God used Whitney Capps to speak painful – but necessary – truth into my life of MEnistry instead of ministry), every single session I attended gave me an irreplaceable education about not only the publishing industry, but the social media world we live in and the majestic God we serve. I learned from national bestselling authors, an English professor, small business owners and engaging speakers. They pointed me to God’s mission of redemption and reminded me even the slightest, smallest details can point to our Creator. Yes, even the sessions about concise writing and using active versus passive voice. If writing is the megaphone God asks me to use to get His message out, then you’d better BELIEVE concise writing and word power matter when I share His message!

But learning the tools of the trade is only a third of the educational part. You see, I’m such a nerd about learning that I geek out when I meet professors and authors and teachers. One of the coolest parts about She Speaks is attendees have access to authors and speakers, so I made it a point to meet almost every speaker after his or her session to give my thanks in person (and a handwritten thank you note). I saw quite a few women getting selfies with authors, too. While that isn’t my style and I’d rather have a photo of the speaker herself (instead of a photo of ME with the speaker [I mean, who really needs to see more of ME?!]), I did take one with a speaker to send back to my friend in Missouri.

The last third of the educational part of the conference is the two meetings I had with publishing companies. I pitched my book, explained  why it matters in God’s kingdom, and got the best news I could ever hope for (besides a publishing contract right there on the spot, which I’m not convinced would be the “best” news anyway): I. AM. NOT. CRAZY.

Glory, hallelujah! Do y’all need me to repeat that again? Let’s do it anyway: I. AM. NOT. CRAZY. And not only am I Not Crazy, but I also got great feedback on how to make my Not Crazy reach a new level. I left my last appointment floating on air, like driving with the windows down and my favorite song cranked to MAX VOLUME. And then… and then I settled in for last session of the conference, taught by Whitney Capps.

This is where the BEST best part of the conference intersected me. This is where God pulled up a chair, put His hands on my cheeks, and gently drew my gaze away from the lights and dazzle and turned my eyes toward Him. He had been there all along, through the dinner on Conference Eve to the notes we sang in worship to the one-on-one publisher meetings to the “You got this!” signs posted in the ladies’ restrooms. Except… my eyes had been dazzled as I repeated, “Yes, *I* do ‘got this’ and I am gonna rock it!” and quietly bought into the idea of my dream coming true because of me.

Through Whitney’s teaching about ministry (calling focused on God) vs. MEnistry (calling focused on me), I was asked to let God shape my treasure instead of trying to shape it myself. God used Whitney’s words to remind me of the ministry I am already President and Coach and CEO of: the ministry of Dan, Katie and Jackson. During the session, the Holy Spirit plainly whispered something to my heart:

Let it go.

How do I know this was the Holy Spirit and not my own self talking to me? Because my response was to say “No way!” and run away as fast as I could, and keep driving with my windows down and my favorite song cranked high. In a moment of prayer I even said, “But, God! I got great news about my book today and I have a PLAN and isn’t this what you called me to do anyway?”

The words “I” and “MY” echoed in my ears as I realized somewhere along the way, I turned His dream for me into my dream for what I want regardless of the cost. In His loving-kindness, God was faithful to His promises and still blessed me in my self-centeredness. And He whispered a response to my heart that amounted to this message: You have to let it go, so I can make it even better than you ever dreamed, Elizabeth. I responded with, “For how long? Forever?” And I felt Him say, “No, just until we’re both ready. Let it go, be the mom and wife I need you to be through the end of the summer, and we’ll talk more about this when things settle down.” I know from past experience that God blesses my obedience, so I opened my hands and said a small, tiny, “Okay.” And then He said part two:

Give it away.

“WHAT?!” was my response right before I realized exactly what God meant. In the process of writing my photography devotional, I’ve been very protective of my art. I haven’t put it on social media or even let anyone keep a copy of my samples for fear they might take it and repost/steal/abuse it. (Don’t laugh. It happened for real to my friend Danielle!) I had crossed the dividing line of Savvy on Social Media and crawled into Greedy and Possessive Mine-Mine-Mine! God knew this and could see where my heart had been clawing at keeping His truth all for myself. If I believe my purpose in living is to be an Encourager, Name-Caller and Truth-Teller for God, then I need to be willing to actually give the truth to people who need (and want) to hear it. Give is contrary to hold-on-to-it-and-only-let-others-peek-at-it. Give means letting it go and trusting God with the very thing that was HIS TO BEGIN WITH ANYWAY.

Oh, yeah. Can I get an amen and a hallelujer?

I sat at the end of the session at the end of the conference, and knew in my core God was right and He would be with me through the Letting Go and Giving Away. I knew – and still know – that He is worth my trust and He always exceeds my expectations. As a response to His requests, when the session ended I pulled the two copies of my book out of my bag and found two women I met at the conference. I presented a copy to each of them, spent the rest of the evening saying goodbye to friends, stuffed my conference notebook in my bag, and walked away from She Speaks. After that night, I only pulled out my conference stuff once when I was at my sister’s house, to show her the pamphlets and giveaways I had received and to organize my notes so I could keep them boxed up for a while.

Did y’all get that? I walked away.

I spent the remainder of summer being present. No more waking two hours early to write. No more plugging the kids into a screen so I could research books for my proposal. No more emailing friends and acquaintances for networking and endorsements. I closed the laptop for two weeks straight.

I spent a week at my sister’s, saying yes when we decided to drive to the beach…

…and yes when Jackson wanted to play Foosball…

…and yes when Katie wanted to lay in the Eno hammock…

…and yes to tree climbing in Boone when we visited my niece’s house and college.

When we returned from Missouri, I said yes to date night at a Hillsong concert with Dan…

…and yes to more swimming with the kids…

…and yes to exploring a creek with friends.

Saying YES to God looks a lot like saying YES to the people I love.

Now where does this leave me? School is back in session. After quite a few days to sit still in God’s presence and adjust to the new routine, I felt God give me the green light – NOT to race ahead, but the green light to start sniffing around and asking questions. I have lots to learn about blogging and platforms and expanding God’s reach through me. (Not “expanding my reach for Him.” There’s a subtle difference!) But as my friend Jon Cook counseled me last week, “Nothing about this should be rushed. Let God build your platform in His timing.”

Long ago, I read a quote that said God answers prayers in three ways:

1. Yes.
2. Not yet.
3. I have something better in mind.

I can face the future knowing His timing is right for me!

“In all things, God works.” (Romans 8:28)

It’s Been Quiet for a Reason

If you’ve been hanging out at Six Golden Coins for any length of time, you’ll notice that things have gotten a little quiet around here recently. I promise a good explanation!

Here’s the small answer: I’m finally, really, not-kidding-for-real writing a book! [Dude, it is terrifying to write that sentence and put this part of my heart out there in cyberland!]

The medium answer is: I’m writing a book and attending a conference called She Speaks. It’s a conference for writers, bloggers, speakers and ministry leaders. I will attend sessions focused on topics like giving books their titles, how to combat procrastination, how to write a chapter, and how to move forward in God’s calling.

The large answer is: I’m writing a book, attending a conference, PLUS I will be meeting with two publishing insiders, which means I will be pitching my book to them.

The Extra-Value-Meal answer is: I AM SCARED OUT OF MY MIND AND ALSO EXCITED BEYOND BELIEF. At any given moment of any given day, I have butterflies in my tummy that make me want to puke while feeling so jazzed that I want to giggle like a maniac. I feel so happy and in my groove while fighting my inner dialog and self talk that keeps saying “This is a BAD idea!”

This is not a new step in my life that I have taken lightly. (Surprising, huh? Ha.) I have a sister and husband and friends who have all but hit me over the head and dragged me towards this step. And I’m not gonna lie: there have been many days I have wanted to punch them in return for it! But I am endlessly grateful for them too, because I have learned so much about myself and God’s faithfulness and goodness through this process. I have cried on my driveway after opening letters from people who blessed me with encouragement only God could have sent. I have sat in a restaurant booth and been the recipient of grace in the form of monetary support. I have been texted and hugged and prayed over by friends. I have been encouraged and convicted by sermons from visiting pastors who had no idea the truth they spoke was being sowed deeply in my soul.

Oh, the grace God gives me – us! – is staggering! And it’s the only way I’ve made it this far, because once Dan and I made the decision and I registered for the conference, life got messy.

It started with a flooded basement and a subsequent basement reconstruction project in April. The day that job was finished in May, Dan had back surgery and spent a while at home recuperating. As soon as he returned to work, school ended and the kids have been home enjoying summer. That brought June which included a Holy Yoga retreat in Nashville for me, church camp for me and Katie, and sleep away camp for Jackson. June ended with a broken air conditioner and a big repair bill. Throw in a terrifying leap of faith, late hours writing my book and adding in a book proposal, and you’ll know why the ol’ blog has been kind of quiet.

It’s hard for me to sum up the stress and worries that came along with the events of that last paragraph, so I won’t. You can imagine.

Time is dwindling and there is still so much to do. I have kids to pack. And myself! I have a haircut to schedule and allergy-friendly food to buy. I have an adored sister arriving in a week, and a house that desperately needs cleaning before she pops in. I have two kids who are eager to have summer fun, while the rain has been incessant and the neighborhood pool is a barely-used fantasy. I have insurance deductibles and hospital bills and HVAC bills to pay. I have a dog who needs late-night baths because his paws are muddy (see: incessant rain) and tummy trouble got him.

“So. Much. To. Do.” These four words feel like my mantra lately.

But yesterday, four words started to replace those. These words are: “Be. Still. And. Know.” Psalm 46:10 appeared in random ways yesterday and today, and I think God is using “random” to speak to me. He’s calling my name and I’m trying to be a human BEing instead of my frantic rush to be a human DOing.

It might be a while until I post again. Never fear! I’m still here, plugging away and staying up late to type. Wish me luck and pray hard!

Broken, Blessed and Wet

So far, St. Louis in the summer of 2015 can be marked by one word for me: RAIN. It has rained so much, and I think I’ve mostly rolled with it. But tonight, I hit a wet wall on the way home and realized I am desperately missing sunshine. It made me start thinking of all the times I’ve prayed for relief from heat and sun, and the times I’ve wanted the opposite of what I have.

Sometimes, I treat my blessings like curses and vice versa.

In an effort to see things with a different perspective, I thought through what the rain might mean to different people.

The rain is a curse to farmers whose crops have rotted in the ground before the seeds were able to germinate and send a frail green shoot upward to gather what little sunshine cracks through the clouds.

The rain is an annoyance to outdoor businesses like Six Flags, who get very few customers on wet days. Only the crazies show up!

The rain is frustrating to kids’ sports programs when game after game gets rained out and the deadline for finishing the season is a week away, with more rain in the forecast. And it’s frustrating to the kids who desperately want to play and keep getting rescheduled!

May we all see our curses as blessings and have wisdom knowing what breaks us can serve to bless someone else.

The rain is a blessing to construction workers and lifeguards whose skin is usually scorched by the summer sun.

The rain is a boon to landscapers who are usually in a client lull by mid-July because the heat has scorched the lawns they are paid to mow.

May we all have wisdom to see our blessings can be a curse for someone else, knowing what blesses us can break another’s soul.

Holy Yoga Soul Care Retreat

I attended my second Holy Yoga Soul Care Retreat the first weekend of June. It was in Nashville at the Scarritt Bennett Center. My friend Jill asked me to be the event photographer again, plus I had seven women schedule individual photography sessions with me. Here are my favorite photos from the weekend, after many hours of organizing and editing. I hope you can see God in these images and women’s faces, like I do!

To Katie on the Eve of Her 12th Birthday

Tomorrow, Katie turns 12. Two days ago, she wrote me a letter in a special journal we use to write each other back and forth. This blog post is her letter, and my response. [Note: We just spent five days at our church’s youth camp. I wasn’t assigned to Katie’s small group, but I got to spend some time with her and hang out and watch her with her friends.]

Dear Mommy,

I had so much fun at YC Camp spending time with you! I enjoyed the blob and spending time with all my besties! Thank you for caring for me when I hurt my foot, and offering a piggyback ride. I am so lucky to have you! I want to do this again next year, and I hope that it is at Lake Williamson! I am thankful that we can continue to grow in our love of Christ TOGETHER! We are going to keep calm and worship on! I love your love for Christ, like how you raise your hands and sing like nobody is watching. I have a desire to love Christ just like you! I love you so much! We are going to have so much fun telling D & J about our adventures!    ~Katie (Ketchup)

Here’s the letter I wrote in response:

Oh, my Katie girl!

Your letter was better for me than any jewel or gifts or awards or prizes. Having you as my girl is like winning the grand prize championship of life! Nothing compares to the joy you shine into my life. Thank you for telling me how you see me – that you see Jesus in me. That is my life’s mission: to reflect Jesus to others. And I love that you, my daughter, can see Him in me!

Here’s something really great too: I CAN SEE JESUS IN YOU! I see Him in the way you sing about Him when you’re hanging out at home. I see Him in the way you light up around friends you love. I see Him when we have quiet pillow talk moments and you ask some of the hard questions of life. I see Him in you when you help out around the house or at Outreach or with a neighbor. Oh, Katie! The Lord has set you aside for a deep, loving work throughout your life. How exciting is that?!

Tomorrow is your birthday. It makes me think of the first day I met you, when nurses placed you on the hospital bed beside me. I looked in your eyes and saw an entirely new unexplored world opening up for me. You have shown me new paths of life that I never knew existed. This life isn’t always easy, but having Jesus beside me, God above me, the Holy Spirit inside me, and my magnificent family (you included!) with me makes it one fantastic life.

I love and adore you,

Mommy

Unending Love, Amazing Grace

I want to write. I love to write. I even have an idea for a book (or three). Slowly, I’m getting closer to making that dream less of an idea and more of a reality. And each time I take a step towards it, my fear of reality rachets up a few notches.

What if I make the effort to achieve my dream, and I fail miserably? What if I put all this effort into writing a book and NO ONE wants to read it? What do I do on the other side of failure when I don’t have that dream to fuel me any longer? And then the real terror sets in, because the fears transfer from my dreams and onto my value as a person. Who are YOU to write a book? You don’t know the first thing about that. Are you stupid? You don’t have anything of value to put in a book. Or a blog. Or even a LIFE, for that matter. You aren’t special. You aren’t worth listening to. And you certainly aren’t interesting, not even one little bit!

Dude. Just writing those sentences makes me want to close my laptop and curl into a ball, and never. write. again. – even to finish this blog post! The fear is real, and it’s paralyzing. And I’m so tempted to listen to the voice of the Dream Killer and stay in my comfy little life and simply stop.

But the shouts of fear can’t silence the whisper of God in my heart. So, for some crazy reason, I found myself in the Christian section at Barnes & Noble. I was doing some research to find out what kinds of books already exist that are similar to what I have in mind to write. Before I got to the bookstore, I figured my book idea was not exactly original but also not saturating the market. It turns out I wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t right, either. I poked around and found books just like what I had in mind, and some that were even better.

I sat on the ground in front of the Christian section, and looked at this massive collection of books. There were books by Mother Teresa and Charles Spurgeon and A.W. Tozer and Lysa TerKeurst and Ann Voskamp and Shauna Niequist and Todd Eldredge and… and… and I felt hope seep out of me. I felt my dream curdling in my stomach, and the heaviness of failure before I had even started to give my dream any true weight.

After a time I got up and left the bookstore, full of negative self talk and words like, “You’ll never be…” and “No one would ever want you to…” and the worst of all: “After seeing all those books in the store, what do YOU have to offer, Elizabeth? There is nothing significant or worthwhile that you can add to the conversation. Those REAL authors in the store have captured the essence of God in theological ways your little, pitiful mind can never fathom. Don’t even THINK you can play in the big leagues with those rock stars! Everything important has already been written. Everything that matters has already been said. You have nothing valuable to add to the conversation, so shut up and sit down.”

Sidebar: as I’m typing this blog post, I just got a text from a friend. This is what she sent. Wow! What perfect timing!

Back to the story…

I left the bookstore, got in the car, berated myself, then started driving. That’s when the Holy Spirit convicted me and I realized I needed to change the route my mind was taking. I prayed out loud and said, “Okay, God. Let’s turn on some music so I can sing to You instead.” I turned on the local Christian radio station (JoyFM) and the notes from a song that has special meaning to me filled the car:

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.”

It’s a song that reminds me of my parents. And it’s a song that reminds me of God’s ability to change me because I no longer cry like a baby whenever I hear the song or sing it at church. And then the chorus of the song started playing:

“My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.

My God – my Savior – has ransomed me.

And like a flood, His mercy reigns.

Unending love, amazing grace.”

For a brief moment, I flashed back to the first time I heard that song and I was at the end of myself. That song was a lifeline for me that first day. Now on THIS day, in the car after leaving the bookstore, it became a lifeline again. As I was thanking God for that song on the radio at that specific moment in time when I needed it, He gently whispered to my heart and I realized this: I am so grateful that Chris Tomlin wrote a new version of the song Amazing Grace.

Do you think he ever thought, “Why keep writing music? Every note has already been played and every word has already been sung. And why should I take a song that’s already been written – Amazing Grace – and add anything to it? That song is a classic and there is nothing little ol’ me can add to it.”

But Chris Tomlin didn’t listen to the Dream Killer, and he wrote lyrics and music that deepened a classic spiritual hymn and made it fresh for a new generation of believers. When Chris Tomlin listened to God, God showed him how to write in a new way. A way that’s authentic to God’s call on Chris Tomlin’s life. And HIS life only, regardless of whether anyone else sang the songs or played the music.

For me, that last part is the key to silencing the Dream Killer. It doesn’t matter if I write a book or a blog or even a letter that no one publishes or compliments or even reads. The point is not doing something because of the way it’s received; the point is doing something because it’s what my Father has asked me to do.

If God has placed words on my heart and dreams in my head, then who am I to say His dreams are less important than mine? And what if, just maybe, God is so good and so loving that He makes sure to intersect His dreams with my own?

God has placed a passion in my heart that needs to be expressed. He has given me spiritual gifts that He intends for me to use, which makes those gifts a Gift I get to extend back to Him. How amazing that The Giver of All Gifts lavishes us with love that becomes an offering back to Him and ultimately glorifies Him? God is the best recycler/upcycler/regifter of all!

“Unending love, amazing grace.” Indeed!

[A few weeks after my bookstore revelation, I got to attend the Chris Tomlin “Love Ran Red” concert tour. As he sang “Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone)” live, I took this photo. Look at the way people worship and sing along. It would have been a shame for Chris Tomlin to say no to writing a new arrangement of the hymn Amazing Grace. Thank You, God, for making all things new!]

Provision and PayPal

Health insurance. Gah! I know I’m not the only one who is frustrated and annoyed with her insurance and what feels like a lack of benefits.

On Tuesday, Dan stopped off at home in the midst of a rain hail storm as he was on his way to a physical therapy appointment. I asked him about how he planned to pay for the appointment, since our Health Savings Account had been tapped dry the week before. We talked about the lack of funds compared to the abundance of bills, and then I bemoaned a bill that had not even been incurred yet: my annual eye exam and contact lenses.

I’ve already made my lenses stretch for as long as possible (Yes, I’m guilty of – gasp! – wearing my daily lenses for more than a day. The horror!), but I’m down to a short supply and it’s time to bite the bullet and order more. While talking with Dan, I said, “The HSA is empty and contacts will cost $300. Where are we going to find that?”

In the back of my head, I already had an answer.

I met with a friend last week and we discussed a regular photography gig. She offered to hire me to photograph property as a part of her job. It intrigued me, and I told her I would pray about it. I tucked the idea into my heart, asked God to mull it over for me and let me know what He thinks I should do. While I don’t think that gig would be my ultimate employment answer, I do think it would provide income while I’m pursuing other callings from God (creative photography, writing, preparing a book). It looked like a good idea to me, but I wanted to sit on it and wait for God to confirm it.

Then bills started huffing at the corner of my shoulder and my unemployment guilt started elbowing me in the ribs a couple extra times. Add in a $300 need for contacts, and I felt like it was time to get back on the horse and pursue that photography gig. Dan left for his appointment before I voiced any of this, but I figured I could approach it with him later that night.

I went about my morning and tackled my To Do list. One of the tasks involved ordering a copy of a sports identification card so Katie can play on her softball team. Payment was required through PayPal, so I logged into my account to make sure I had the $5 to cover the order. The last time I checked, the account balance was less than $20. I figured I had at least $5 left. I was wrong.

The account balance was $300. Let me repeat that: THE ACCOUNT BALANCE WAS THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

Immediately, my mind raced back through past transactions and I couldn’t think of any reason there would be $300 in my account. I opened the screen that lists every transaction for the last 14 months, and got out my calculator and did the math. THREE TIMES. I should only have $16 in that account! So I called PayPal and spoke to a woman named Sandra. I started by saying I don’t understand my account balance. I’m pretty sure she must have flinched, because her response to my next words (“There’s money there that wasn’t there before!”) was: “Oh! Usually people call in here mad, but you’re not mad!” I chuckled and told her I wasn’t mad, but I needed her to help me understand how this money appeared. She went through the transactions too, and said the $300 is legit and I must have forgotten some money from long ago. Regardless of where it came from, the $300 is actually mine and I can spend it. I sputtered, “But there’s no way to explain how it got there!” She again confirmed that it IS there and it’s not a mistake.

Then I told her I was just talking to my husband about medical bills and needing $300, and she said, “Girl, the Lord works in mysterious ways!” To which I replied, “Amen, sister! He really does! I can’t believe He even works through PayPal!” I’m pretty sure our call was the highlight of her day, because it was definitely mine!

And now, there is a $295 balance in my PayPal account. (I used $5 to pay for the ID card, remember?) But even more than the $295, I received something of much greater value: I had a specific need and God gave me a specific answer. “I will provide for you, Elizabeth. Do not go running off, searching out your own solutions to problems. Sit. Wait. Give me time to work and I will bless you in ways that don’t make sense and can’t be proven with math or scientific reasoning or logic. I AM and I am providing for you. Trust me, dear one!”

In my life, I’ve heard people tell stories about being in financial need and God bailing them out in ways that seem “random” (unclaimed money or a neighbor dropping off a “random” gift card or a long-forgotten I.O.U. that gets paid or an anonymous donor paying for Lyme Disease treatment). I love hearing stories like that because it is always obvious to me that God isn’t random and His provision isn’t a coincidence. It’s an easy thing for me to say when a person is telling me a story about their “coincidence.” But when the “coincidence” happens to ME and God gives me a first-person reminder that He is taking care of me in ways I didn’t even bother to ask Him to, my mind is blown and I am left shaking my head in wonder at His might and majesty.

Later that day, I told a friend about finding God’s provision through PayPal and explained to her how I had been on the verge of taking on a new gig as my solution to a problem. She wisely pointed out that God is telling me to sit still and keep waiting through this unemployment, and He will lead me to the place He has prepared for me. It doesn’t mean this gig is a NO, but it does mean I don’t have to keep running around making my own answers to problems without waiting for God to confirm it first.

I can’t explain how thankful I am that God is a persistent God who speaks in ways meant only for me. He is generous, patient, and faithful to keep His promises to provide! (Psalm 54:4, Jer. 29:11)  And while I know $300 is merely a drop in the bucket (some people are in much greater need) and we aren’t in dire straits and we will get by, it’s reassuring and encouraging to know that God cares about even the smallest worries that stick like Velcro to my soul. Thank You, Abba!

Catastrophes = TROPHIES

Ten years ago, we had half of the basement finished. The day the carpet was installed, I grabbed some Sharpies and wrote lyrics, scriptures, and quotes all over the concrete before it was covered up. I also wrote a letter to the person who would uncover it next, not relaxing that person would be ME.

Yesterday, when our basement flooded, this was the first quote I saw when the carpet was pulled back. Right next to it was the entirety of Psalm 23. It spoke calm to me in the midst of a very stressful moment, and I'm so grateful that Elizabeth-of-Ten-Years-Ago was weird enough to go writing things on concrete. Elizabeth-of-Today needed the reminder that life is more than a series of catastrophes. Not only are WE bigger than anything that can happen to us, but GOD is!

Catastrophes = TROPHIES for God's glory and mercy.

[And for you @crossingstl folks, the Sharpie quotes were written 3 years before we ever stepped into church. I love that God placed me in a church that speaks my Sharpie love language, before I even knew there was such a thing!]

Tetelestai

I started Good Friday by reading John's account of the crucifixion to my children. It's hard for them to not skip ahead to Easter, because they are used to living in an Easter world. Oh, how we all take hope for granted!
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Today, may we rest in tetelestai, the last word on our Savior's lips. He says it is finished. The debt is paid and we can claim lavish freedom we don't deserve. Tetelestai means we get to go HOME one day. Thank you, Jesus.

Katie is Hooked on Holy Yoga

Katie attended her first Holy Yoga class with me this week. She loved it so much that she asked for her own yoga mat in her room. This morning we started the day with Pigeon and Child’s Pose while the sunrise came through the windows. Bliss!

Tomorrow Starts Tonight

Words of wisdom to my 11 year old daughter. At bedtime, we talked about rest tonight bringing calm tomorrow.

To Jackson on His 8th Birthday

Sugar Boy,

Let’s sum up this year so far with quotes from your 2nd grade teacher. She says, “Jackson actively participates in our classroom discussions and has become much better at listening to what his classmates have to say. I have noticed a shift in his personality to being more open-minded and accepting of others. He enjoys math and can comprehend and communicate math problems very easily. Jackson is also a good reader. I will encourage him to set a classroom goal of reading higher level books when he is finished with his morning assignments. He walks into our classroom each morning ready to learn! Keep up the good work, Jackson!”

Your teacher notices some of my favorite things about you:

1. You are smart. Really smart! Almost too smart for me, because you think through possibilities faster than I can keep up sometimes. Of course, this isn’t always good because sometimes you are already planning a way to get out of trouble before you even get into it!
2. You are a great reader. You are voraciously chewing through books faster than I can keep up with you. Every time we go to the library, I can count on having at least an hour to myself when we return home because you beeline straight to the couch and dive into your library books.
3. I, too, have noticed a personality shift this past year. You have become just a little more rational and able to comprehend things you weren’t able to assess before. Sometimes, this means you think through cause-and-effect prior to making a not-so-good decision. Other times, you’re still working on that a bit. (ahem) But I can definitely see a change in your compassion and empathy lately. You have been able to reach out to others in ways I haven’t seen before.

One thing your teacher didn’t notice that I have noticed is your growing faith this past year. You have been so eager to tell me, Daddy and Katie about Bible stories you’ve read. A few times, you’ve even corrected me on specific facts from a Bible story. (I was quite impressed the day you explained Moses’ Tent of Meeting to me, and flipped directly to the specific passage in your Bible!)

If I had to describe you in one word, it would be hard to choose just one (and I’d have to use a lot of compound words and hyphens). But, honestly, one thing that sticks out for me is your ability to love. When you love, man, you love in a purely unrestrained and thick way. For example, all you wanted to do for your birthday was to have friends over and have a Nerf gun fight. It wasn’t a present or spending money, it was simply hanging with friends and spending time with them. Your currency is people and truly, deeply loving them.

Lately, we’ve talked a little bit about that faint birth mark on the inside of your right forearm. It’s in the shape of a heart, and I’ve been telling you that it was God’s way of marking you and reminding you of your life’s purpose: to love others and to love Him.

You’ve already loved an entire lifetime full in just eight years, and I pray God gives you eighty more to keep on doing so!

I love you,

Mommy

Later

When I’m old and gray, and you’re bald and still handsome, this is one of the points of our lives I will look back upon and wish we could do over. Not the college days, not the early marriage years, and certainly not the early parenting years. (I happen to like sleep, thankyouverymuch.) This middle-aged time of working out the details of life.

Our current lives aren’t, by any means, stressless and idyllic. There are too many stains on the couch and dings in the wall. There are too many piles sitting on the counters and frantic rushing to make it to the band concert or ball practice or evening class on time. There are moments when I wonder what we’ll eat (not “if,” but “what” because I have to keep feeding these people I live with, for Pete’s sake!). I wonder how we’ll afford both kids’ college educations and how much longer our cars or washing machine or dishwasher will hold out. I wonder when I’ll get a job. I wonder when the pace of your job will slow to manageable. No, this time of our lives isn’t perfect; your morning back pain that lasts until bedtime and my hips that have to be popped into place each morning tell me we are both far from perfect.

But I do know this: perfect is overrated, and I kind of like messy! Being messy means being real. It means letting your junk hang out of its trunk in literal and proverbial ways. It’s a cliché, I know, but the love I have for you gets better – and more REAL – with time. (The reasons clichés are clichés is because they’re true.) It’s far from the polished perfect I dreamed of as a girl, and I’m so very thankful for that!

Your love is REAL for me and it becomes more real every day. You make it real in the way you seek me out for a hug when you arrive home from work each night. It’s real when you clean the dishes after dinner even after a long day at work. It’s real when you tell me to go for my dreams and promise to be on the other side no matter how things turn out. It’s real when you roll over in bed and spoon with me. It’s real when you walk that dog of ours that I know you weren’t overly eager to adopt (and it turns out you love him anyway). It’s real when you hold my hand at church and give me the sort of glance that reminds me of the singular biggest gift God has ever bestowed upon me: salvation with you.

I could write a book (!) about the ways you have loved me, and a sequel about the ways your love has shown me redemption and reconciliation and restoration. In fact, I am writing a book about us. It isn’t one that anyone can hold or flip through, but it’s a book we will get to read out loud to each other one day, later. When I’m old and gray, and you’re bald and still handsome. And still mine.

I love you, Dan.

Owning and Honing

At the start of February, I started taking the online photography course I purchased two years ago. It was time to finally tackle it! Whenever someone asks me to photograph them, I undersell myself because I don’t feel like I’ve had the formal training I need to charge what I’m worth. Finally, God spoke to my heart and told me to stop minimizing myself. I have access to the knowledge, so GO GET IT. Make it official, Elizabeth!

I started with lessons on photography basics. Yes, I learned new things. Yes, I gained a wider spectrum of knowledge. The course showed me that I already knew how to make the camera do what I wanted it to do; I just didn’t know the  mechanics of why. However, the most valuable part of the course for me was the realization that I already know much more than I give myself credit for. The hard truth is I don’t trust myself as enough of an expert to tell myself that. My self-confidence doesn’t feel qualified enough to make that sort of value judgment.

Which brings up this question: Why do I feel like something outside me needs to validate me?

I act as if  some external force needs to validate my internal self before my internal self has enough weight to be valid. The external “tests” and assessments seem quantifiable, while my opinion or belief does not. Why can’t my inner experiences and the Holy Spirit’s convictions speak louder than some external measuring stick? And when did I start placing so much value on the external instead of the Eternal?

God gave me a specific skill to be used in His honor. He wants me to own it and hone it. He wants me to stop minimizing who I am because it minimizes WHOSE I am.

I love photography. It is a spiritual pathway for me, and I feel like I’m communing with God when I get my camera in my hands. It can be my fancy Nikon D200 or my low-tech iPhone; the vehicle doesn’t matter. When I’m behind any sort of lens and capturing images, time stops and the world goes still for me. I’ve always said I might be the one who pushes the button, but it’s God who helps me capture the image.

Behind the lens, I notice details of the world I normally wouldn’t: emotions pouring out of someone’s heart.

A drenching of water that represents a life forever changed.

A moment of holy.

A moment of freedom.

The demanding, noisy need of animal instinct.

The first few raw moments of life.

Pure, happy, blissful joy.

The beauty of God’s fragile creation.

The delicate details of frost on glass.

The strength in a dandelion puff that reminds me of Strength with a capital “S.”

Other people have told me they don’t see the world like that. I can’t imagine how that’s possible, because seeing the world the way I do when I’m behind the lens feels as second nature as breathing. It feels so easy, so how can it be a talent of mine or something I’m set apart for? From what I’ve been told, that’s what a spiritual gift is: something that feels so inherently natural to you (and is affirmed by others) that you can’t NOT use it to shine light on who the Creator is.

At lunch with friends two Fridays ago, I told them how I didn’t “feel” like a photographer. One of my friends said, “You take pictures, right? You get paid for it, right? You’ve been told you have a talent for photography, right? I’d pretty much say that YOU’RE A PHOTOGRAPHER.” I blushed. It felt weird to be called something by someone I love and not be able to say it myself.

It’s time to OWN IT, Elizabeth.

So this past weekend at church, my friend Jim said his son needs senior portraits and his family needs photos. He asked, “You’re a photographer, right?” In the past, I would have hemmed and hawed and said, “Well, sort of. On the side. It’s a hobby for me but…”

BUT, this time, I simply said, “Yes!” Owning and honing. Thank You for trusting me, God!

Small Cages and Broken Wings

I once found a cocoon in the fall leaves. I wasn’t sure whether anything might be alive in it, or even if it was definitely a cocoon. I suspected, and decided to keep it and see what might come of it. I put it in one of my kids’ little plastic bug catchers and stored it on top of the fridge in the garage, and kind of sort of forgot about it through the winter.

About six months later, a flutter of movement on top of the fridge caught my eye. When I realized an enormous polyphemus moth had emerged inside the bug catcher (one just like the moth I wrote about here), I jumped into action. I showed it to the kids, and quickly realized we had two problems: the bug catcher was WAY too small for this huge creature, and he was too big to fit through the exit. I opened the door to the bug catcher, but it just wasn’t going to work.

I realized I would have to take the plastic and metal screen pieces apart to free him, but each movement of the  cage made him agitated. He would flap his wings (because, you know, he was made to do that), but because he was so big and his cage was so small, the flapping soon started wearing holes in his wings. Yes, holes.

I worked as fast as I could and finally pried the bug catcher apart. I placed Paul (by this time, the kids and I named him Paul the Polyphemus Moth) into a large, netted cage. But, sadly, the damage had already been done to his wings. He sat on the floor of the cage and flapped pathetically, and couldn’t rise.

I let him out of the cage to give him more space (and to take photos), but the holes in his wings had crippled his ability to be what he was made to be. I put him back into the bigger cage and pondered what I should do. If I let him go free, he would quickly be eaten by another animal. (He was big and juicy and meaty, y’all. Tempting for a predator!) Should I release him so he could die quickly or keep him caged and try to feed him until a slow death overtook him? I knew he would die in the near future anyway. (Once eclosion [hatching] is complete for a polyphemus moth, they live only about a week.)

I stared at him in his cage. I felt regret because I was the one who, in effect, clipped his wings. I put him in a cage that was too small for him, and limited his ability to grow and fly. I devastated him. And in his panic to be set free, he rubbed holes in his wings and killed his chances to take flight.

At this moment of my life, this moth’s fate felt so very much like my own. I was in a stage of my life where I felt caged. I was defining myself on my surroundings, and letting my “cage” dictate my abilities. I had stopped looking to my Creator to shelter me, and flapped my wings uselessly against walls that were suffocating me. I based my worth on what the relationships around me told me I was. I couldn’t see glory because of all the routine tasks of life that were squeezing my heart into a small space. The things my heart was soaring towards felt unattainable and I felt undeserving of fulfilled dreams. I was agitating and flapping and doubting myself, which kept tearing holes in my wings. I ignored my spiritual gifts and, honestly, looked at them like curses instead of blessings. And then the Holy Spirit convicted me of this truth:

The longer I stayed in my “cage,” the less likely I would be able to fly.

I HAD to get out. I needed to get out. I wasn’t quite sure what it would look like to be outside my cage, and the unknown was terrifying to me (because even though it was suffocating me, at least I knew my cage’s parameters). But I knew the longer I stayed where I was, the closer I would be to rubbing my wings into little bloody stumps. Painful, bloody stumps have a way of splashing pain onto other people because it’s tortuous to be around someone whose potential has been stunted. I realized leaving my cage wasn’t just for my own good, but for the good of Dan and my kids and those people who surrounded me with their love. But even more than that, leaving the cage was what my Father made me to do.

I decided to keep Paul until he died, and do my best to feed him whatever it is that moths eat. I couldn’t just set him free to be destroyed, and I selfishly wanted to keep him near me as a reminder to be brave in leaving my own cage. So I kept him until he died, then gently mounted his body and cocoon in a shadow box that sits in a place I can see him and be reminded to spread my wings and fly.

A Sample Day in Our Life

Long ago, in the early days of my blog, I wrote an entry detailing what a typical day in our life looks like. I wanted to write it down because I knew I would eventually forget how we spend our days. Today, I thought about that blog post again and decided to write a new one that shows what our life is currently like. So, here’s a typical school day in our house.

6:15am: I wake and shower. The dog thinks I should walk him first, but I keep him in the kennel so I can get through my morning routine a little faster.

6:50am: I slip into bed beside Katie and wake her gently. I stay beside her and whisper about any number of random things: dreams she had last night, plans for the day, or a book she’s reading. Sometimes, she is so groggy we don’t talk at all. This is when I listen to her breathe and silently pray for her, our whole family, and anything that comes to mind. An alarm on my phone goes off at 7:02am. That’s our cue to say our morning prayers together and start her day.

7:05am: I head to Jackson’s room and do the same thing for him that I did with Katie: snuggle, talk, pray. Since he doesn’t cuddle as long or as quietly as Katie, his alarm goes off after 5 minutes so we can start our day.

7:10am to 7:37am: I make the kids’ breakfasts (usually peanut butter toast and scrambled eggs, and Jackson slices a banana on his toast) while the kids pack their lunches and get their bags ready for school. One of the kids feeds the dog (Katie gets odd days because she was born on an odd-numbered day, and Jackson gets even days because he was born on an even-numbered day), I do Katie’s hair, then we all eat breakfast together until my phone alarm goes off at 7:37 and the kids know it’s time to get shoes and coats on and head to the bus stop.

7:45am: Jackson’s bus arrives.

7:5oam: Katie’s bus arrives.

This is where the most variance happens in my days. I like to start my day by going into my devotional time, but some days I go straight into another appointment or task. For example, today (and every other Monday), I went to Jackson’s school and volunteered with his teacher and one of Katie’s former teachers (she’s still my favorite of all). Then I bought groceries and went home to walk the dog and ate lunch and started a blog post. At 1:00, I met a new friend at Leftovers because she had never been there. I showed her around and shopped with her, and headed home at 3:00. On other days, I might have a coffee appointment (sometimes it’s at a restaurant, but I try to have people meet at my house because I have a coffee machine and don’t have to spend money), or I might have lunch plans or a doctor visit or any number of errands to run. Right now, one morning each week is devoted to a women’s group at church and soon that will be ending and I’ll start a book study with another group of women next. [When I used to work, I would get the kids on the bus and have devotional time until I left the house at 8:30 to make it to work by 9:00. I worked until 3:00 and raced home to meet the kids off the bus at 3:30.]

3:35pm: Jackson’s bus returns home, and Katie follows about 5 minutes after.

3:45pm: Most days, this is snack time with the kids, followed by Katie’s homework and Jackson playing outside or reading. But on Mondays, Katie often has a club after school and Jackson has a specific buddy over for a play date. I have down time with the kids, and then start prepping dinner.

5:30pm: Dan arrives home around this time, and we have a family dinner together around 6:00.

6:30pm: Kids take their own baths and we clean up after dinner. (Usually Dan is the champ who tackles that.) We read or sometimes play a round of Bananagrams (our new favorite game) or color or craft or any random set of things.

7:45pm: Kids brush teeth and Dan tucks Jackson in first. Lately, he’s been allowing Jackson the freedom to read another five minutes while he tucks Katie into bed. Katie gets to read until 8:30pm, then it’s lights out.

8:30pm until bedtime: Dan and I watch TV or email or sometimes he works on a puzzle while I read out loud to him. We try to head to bed around 10:00, but that isn’t always the case.

So, there you go. A day in the life of our family, set down for future posterity to read the mundane intricacies of life. For those of you I put to sleep with my drivel, you can wake up now!

Asset vs. Liability

When I found out I was pregnant with my first child, the first thing I felt was excitement. I couldn’t wait to share the news with Dan.

The second thing I felt was an immense amount of responsibility because of the gravity of the situation: I was officially responsible for someone else’s wellbeing. Dude. That’s a lot of pressure!

But before I got lost in the enormity of that awareness, I was overcome with the most important of all human emotions:

HOPE.

Responsibility grounded me, but hope gave me wings. I felt lighter because I had hope that this child growing inside me would give me a chance to get things “right.” I wanted to parent in a way I myself hadn’t been parented. (Not that I was abused or badly mistreated, but I wanted to do things a little differently than my parents had.) I began dreaming of all the joys I would help my child experience in this world: roller coasters and sunshine and fireworks and ripe peaches. I would get to help her celebrate joys and navigate heartaches. I couldn’t wait for this baby to arrive so we could get started LIVING. I had so much for her to learn because, you know, I’m an expert. Yep, me! I’m an Expert on Living because I’ve done it too! This baby was gonna be so lucky to have me as a mom to show her the ropes because I am an ASSET, by golly! [Would you believe I even wrote her a letter called “Tips on Living Written for My Unborn Child” and sealed it up so we could read it together later? (Ha. Is that even a question? Of course you would believe something like that from me!)]

That pride stuck for many years. Eleven, to be exact. (And it still has a good hold on most days!) But somewhere along the way, the feeling that I am an asset to my child was replaced by the feeling that I’m a liability. The hope I began the journey with was tarnished by reality because, in some ways, I reverted to the type of parenting my parents used with me. I repeated phrases I swore I’d never say and said things I didn’t even know I knew, because that’s how parenting was modeled for me.

When my daughter’s personality started shining through, I discovered a basic truth in the Nature vs. Nurture debate: human beings are born with an inherent nature that is part of their DNA. Realizing that half of my daughter’s DNA came from me caused me to flinch. I knew that Katie would inherent some of my struggles and my personality quirks, plus the Nurture part of the debate meant she would pick up some of my less-pleasing qualities because she watched me model them to her. Oh, man! The pride I felt from being an Asset quickly morphed into guilt for being a Liability.

I soothed myself with the reminder that everyone is broken. Everyone has faults. Katie is human, and her flaws would be unavoidable. “Oh well,” I thought. “It’s just the price of living.”

And then one day a few weeks ago, I sat with a friend whose child is struggling with the same illness my friend had when she was younger. I watched my friend’s tears fall as she cried out, “Why does my child have to carry the same burden I did?” She wondered if maybe SHE is the reason her child inherited this illness. In her grief, she wondered whether she “gave” it to him and then said, “Why couldn’t he struggle with something else?!” And that’s when it hit me: her child is BLESSED BEYOND MEASURE to have a momma who has walked the same road before him. He got a mom who knows the triggers and the relapses and the potholes and detours he will face with this illness. What if he had a mother like me, who didn’t know how to handle it and couldn’t recognize the warning signs? I asked my friend to look at me and I told her this truth: she is a blessing, not a curse!

God, in His sovereign wisdom, knew this child needed a very specific mother to walk the path with him. Those very same things we consider liabilities in ourselves are the most important assets we can give our children. These “liabilities” bring experience, which is a priceless inheritance we can bestow on our kids. In God’s resourceful economy, nothing is wasted.

The longer I live, the more I see the truth that all of us humans have a brokenness inside our beings. My kids are no exception. I don’t yet know the full extent of the burdens they will shoulder throughout their lives. Maybe it will be lupus or insecurity or an addiction or an abusive situation or lack of confidence or depression or any number of aches. But I do know that if their burdens even remotely mirror the ones I’ve carried, God will make me an asset for His use!