Grateful Acres

He's a collector, you know, of the worst kind. He collects disappointment, pain, patterns. He collects failure, mistakes, mindsets. Over and over he replays them, carefully turning up the volume until all the misery is shouting in my ears. He uses vulnerable spots to press on me, hoping I'll shrink away from the pain, further away from the ones that love me the most, weaving misery across my eyes until I can't see their love anymore. He used an old trick, and tricked me again. You see, any pain or failure or disappointment that I've given to the Lord, the enemy can't touch anymore. He can't dangle those and lure me away, because they are no longer mine. He can't steal from the Lord of heaven and earth. He steals from me, and from you. He steals the things I think are still mine. Seven years ago today, I gave birth to a daughter we didn't get to keep. The pain of searing loss was so great, I had to completely, thoroughly give her to the Lord. My hear...

Catchy title, right? A dear friend and I were both recently inspired to reconsider our definitions of submission and surrender, and to search the scriptures for perspective. What we found was shocking- the scripture has much less mention of surrender than I expected. But what about all our powerful, modern worship music about surrender?? What did we miss? Let's think about our cultural connotations for "surrender" for a moment. There are undertones of loss, giving up, defeat. Google defined "surrender" as such: Surrender: to cease resistance to an enemy or opponent, and submit to their authority And what about submission? (Don't freak out, hang with me a minute!) I think we've missed something here. Nothing the Lord asks of us should inspire us to climb the walls... He is GOOD! Google helped me with "submit" as well: Submit: 1) to accept or yield to a superior force or to the authority or will of another 2)to present ...

My mom often says motherhood is like waking up on a moving conveyor belt. I think she's onto something. We stumble into the kitchen, a little too early again, and greet yesterday's unfinished kitchen. The dishwasher needs emptying before dinner (and breakfast, which isn't made yet) dishes can be cleared from the sink. Feelings of overwhelm and never-ending relay start to click at our heels. Good morning, welcome to all that wasn't completed yesterday. School starts later than always hoped, because of the above paragraph, and a few "character training" moments that don't fit on the schedule or to-do list. You've heard all this before. More "character training" is required between subjects and lessons and between math problems, and the mental list of "incompletes" continues to grow. So does that feeling of failure, overwhelm. In the living room Mt. Laundry hollers each time we walk past, unmade beds and stuffed closets call...

This morning I felt some things stir in my heart that I hope to carefully articulate, with honor and honesty. This year our life took a sudden left turn. With a whisper of the Lord's leading, we uprooted and painfully left behind years of kingdom investment. We left the ground we had sown and tended, just as the harvest seemed to be near. We surrendered big dreams and big plans to the Lord, and He gave them away. As I'm writing, I have my favorite album from my favorite artist blasting... Brave New World by Amanda Cook. Fitting, right? She writes about the character of this enormous God. Her lyrics weave the waves of His mercy, His steadiness, His goodness. She wanders through tides of revelation after revelation of His magnificence. Her lyrics are surrender and rising as one. This album is important to me for so many reasons, but today's reason is just that- surrender and rising. Surrender AND rising. With the Lord, surrender is not defeat. When we find ours...

Part of me has always been drawn to old things. My mom and I like to go antiquing together. Family heirlooms capture my attention, particularly items from a ranch house belonging to generations past; a real ranch house, with cows and butter-churns and the like. My great grandparents were Wyoming ranchers, and as a child I remember marveling at the worn, weathered items that survived those hard, rich years. I still have a leather suitcase that my Great Grandpa strapped to the top of a stage coach when he traveled across the wild west. His name is ascribed inside in real ink and poorman's cursive. I've been on a bit of a symbolic heart-and-house purge for a good long season now, longing for a simple, almost old-fashioned life. The simple, hard-working life, less clutter, less busy-ness, more things that stand the test of time. I think about what my kids' memories will be... will they remember Mama stressed and bustling, will they remember being rushed out the door, ...

   One of my grandmas was raised on a ranch in Wyoming. She was taught to work hard and live smart, and she absolutely has. As a child she saved her pennies and bought herself a huge, beautiful piano from a preacher's wife. It's a full sized upright, with magnificent carvings, a beautiful stain, and the richest sound I've heard. This piano traveled the states to rest in my childhood home. I spent many, many hours pouring my heart into the keys as a child and into my twenties. I loved to take the front panels off, and let the vibrations of the strings surround me as I played. It felt like swimming in music. I wrote my first melodies sitting on that little swivel stool. When my beloved and I got married, we moved into a tiny, adorable little house. It was freshly remodeled and sitting behind a white picket fence on a corner lot, and we were very happy! We soon filled the house with a baby and another on the way, and decided to relocate for more room. The piano...

Will I  allow the Lord to work slowly? Do I really believe He cares more for me than the lilies of the field, and will not forget a single care of my heart? When I wait, do I wait in fear? Do I fill gaps, or allow Him? There must be longevity to prove He is faithful. Times of contrast reveal He is good. In the open space He crafts tapestries deeper than my imagination. His slow, steady works are filled with grace, transformation, and more grace. I need grace. I need transformation. I want a life filled with His faithfulness, I want to be neck-deep in His goodness. I want to be weaved in His tapestry. The bending and twisting of each color and texture is the art and beauty expressed by the Artist. I want to learn to see bending and twisting as a holy tapestry. I want to be His art, part of His masterpiece.