Tiptoes in the Water

I'm slow in returning to the world of public words… here, just beginning to poke my head in through the quiet and back to this virtual world of voices and beauty and community after a short-but-longer-than-planned hibernation from the same.   

There are a few reasons for my extended absence and they go like this:

-          My Internet has been down on and off for days (my apologies to the Imperfect Prose community most of all for my absence this week.) My phone data access from my house is spotty at best.

-          My fibromyalgia has flared up something awful and I've been particularly weak/tired/in pain the last two weeks.

-          I carved out time to write a dozen or so blog posts ahead of time only to find the next day that my computer had mysteriously dumped and disposed of them all completely…several thousand words just plain gone. I haven't had the energy to start over again, yet.

-          I've been up to my eyeballs putting out fires like dealing with a water heater outage for three days and catching up on overdue things like cleaning the carpets and folding laundry.

-          I found out I won't be able to go to Allume Social conference this year, which bums me out tremendously. It's for a good purpose (our adoption moving forward) but it's a tough thing to give up. 

Mostly though, I've lingered in the quiet space to give my brain and fingers and soul a rest and it's been good. The infamous fibro brain-fog meant not spending quite so much time in deep reflection as I had planned, but sometimes just walking through the daily things is healing and restful on a different level, and it was.

My tiptoes are back in the water, now, and my fingers teasing the keyboard again. Hope it's been a great September for you so far. 

When It's Time to Untangle

My heart took a big tumble this week. It bounced around and hit a few sharp corners. It is bruised and bleeding today still, pulse-tender like blistered flesh burned on an electric stove. It is still on crutches today, slathering itself in ointment and retreating to quiet spaces.

And I have a lot of thoughts to work out about what's behind all the brokenness and what God has to do with any of it and what it means for my understanding of The Church at large and my voice and my place in things. I don't know quite how much of the pain is a result of my clumsy tendency to stand up for unpopular injustice with a fierce spirit and too many words, and how much is an answer to that prayer I pray in the dark… the scary, exciting, beautiful, awful one. The one that goes, "Break my heart for what breaks yours."

But it's all tied together like a knotted necklace chain and I'll have to untangle it later, after the ointment works its magic, after the wincing has stopped.

Because I'm still slipping between raging indignation and quiet tears. I'm still racing from corner to corner of my mixed-up mind, from the icy shadows to the warmth of the sun.

Somewhere in the midst of this, truth and love and healing will bring me back. They're already beginning to.

But what's saving my life this week are the soft places, like the crook of my husband's arm…the first place I want to bury myself when the hurt stings sharp and the brokenness weighs heavy and he listens, quietly, and hears. Ryan is my safest place, the corner I retreat to when nothing is sure in the world… when my thoughts about God and friendship and mothering and church and work and life bury me in fear and doubt. And then he sits with me, quiet, and I don't need to speak and he doesn't either, and it's love all the same. Ryan is all I know about love on some days, because the way he does it is really something worth taking notes on. He understands the value of presence and his short words linger long when I'm tempted to ask "Why?" What's saving my life today is gratitude for the man in my bed who taught me all I'll ever know about staying.

What's saving my life today are the tiny miracles… picking up the right book at the right time, communities so full of grace and love that I can't escape from Jesus love even when I try to retreat. What's saving me now is that slowly, hour by hour, I'm reminded that there are others standing up for the kind of love I believe in, people who aren't afraid to listen, to speak up for the marginalized and the wounded, people whose stories and lifestyles make a lot of people squirm. Fear brings out the ugly in some people, but intolerance brings out the ugly in me. I'm working on it.

What's saving me now are people like Tammy and Lindsey and Annie and Emily, praying and loving and sending me emails like grace with skin on all through my day. What's saving me, as always, is wild, extravagant grace, and a Nazarene whose love is making nothing in my world comfortable anymore and I suspect it's exactly the way it's supposed to be.

When the heart breaks open because you prayed for it to happen, because you know deep and raw that there's more than the moldable deity you see in modern American culture, it will mess you up. I'm not all that sure I even know what to make of it yet, or what it's going to mean for me, but I know this. It's time to step into quiet for a few days (a week?), to tiptoe away from social media and politics, from hot button issues and phone calls, to quiet my fired-up soul, listen to the breeze that wraps around in an embrace, and learn love from my kids again, the ones who I overhear in their bedroom in tiny voices saying, "You are beautiful," and "I love you," and "Jesus gave us to each other", because this is the love that washes over and saves us all, the love that is worth stopping and smelling and tasting and grasping with all our grip on the tender, unsure days.

So, friends, thank you for grace as I slip quietly away from this space for a few days to read and bake and pray and paint and swing and slide and laugh and sing and be still.

I promise I'm okay… really, truly. Quite full of joy and peace today after the fog of hurt is lifting and just being mindful that this is a place I need to linger for a beat, a pause to usher in Fall and learn a few things about the nature of love and experiencing God. A sorta-kinda spiritual retreat, if you will, a chance to untangle. 

Love, love, love. 

Be back soon. 

Once Upon a Time, Amen.

A lot of people around the blogosphere (and gah, how I hate that word) talk about "a new normal" as they learn to embrace this or that, an unexpected hand dealt them. I tried to think of a less cliché way to check in with y'all today than under the pretense of "learning to deal with our new normal" but I come up empty, so please, forgive the triteness here, as you also forgive (I hope) my absence lately.

We are learning to deal with our new normal with the foster babies and the book project, learning to morph what started out as survival-mode chaos into functional, adapted, thriving life. I am learning how this thing works and how to roll with the punches around here in the interest of not-just-getting-by.

I know now how to do dishes and take a shower every once in awhile without my house being burnt to the ground, and this alone is progress. I know that shooing them out the door after breakfast to play before the air gets thick and hot is the key to getting my daily bearings, that a bunch of stickers and safety scissors and washable markers will get little feet off the carpet just long enough to vacuum. I know which one gets diarrhea if they drink apple juice, which ones have seasonal allergies, which ones hit when no one is looking, and which items around my home are shockingly edible. 

I know that (surprise!) the 2-year-old can dress herself completely and climb up into the car seat all by herself if I can exercise the patience to let her do so. I'm working on it, and my back is grateful. I don't (apparently) know how to find time to blog or write (yet), but I'm working on that too. 

I know that teeth-brushing time is a highlight of the evening for them and for me. For them, the splash and giggle and spit business is just too fun to suppress a squeal and for me, it signals bedtime, which signals breath and Husband and I have even found time to giggle and watch a movie or two. That feels a lot like my old normal, and I'm grateful for a few small anchors like that while this ship spins and swirls, even while we're learning to "Wheeeeee!" about it all the while.  

I know, too, that the little one will say, as I close every storybook's final page, "Amen" instead of "The End" and that I won't correct her because there are days where this alone keeps me from unraveling, the tiny, squeaky reminder that every one of these stories is just a prayer out loud, just living this out loud… Once Upon a Time… Amen. 

Be Authentic, For the Love of God - At BibleDude.net today

I write the truth. I have written a lot of words over the course of my 32 years on this planet and I find one element that binds them to those who stumble onto them. One string runs down the middle of my ramblings and (to God’s glory), that string can be a lifeline to people who feel alone.

Authenticity.

For the rest...visit me over at BibleDude.net today, friends. 

When an Ebenezer Becomes an Isaac. When a Blogger Stops Blogging.

It's about to get quiet around here, and I'm about to see what happens when my best laid plans get hijacked by God.

Things have been noisy around here. Noisy in my house, noisy in my heart, noisy in my cluttered brain.

And I had a big month in store for this little corner of the Internet. I told you, just yesterday, all about some of those plans, but I heard something a few days ago that rocked me and, well, the plans are changing.

I heard this, this week, at work:

"Think about how many people are talking in our world… blogs, Facebook, Twitter. Now think about how many are listening." 

Plenty of people are listening, I thought. I'm listening.

But over the days that followed, I started seeing what I was really listening to. I started realizing that in this season of disconnect, I was turning to blogs, to friends, to social media for connection. I was spending more mental energy on this virtual reality than on spiritual reality, and puffing my chest with the accolades of readers that barely know me. I was cranky at not having enough time to connect with my virtual support system but barely concerned with the hours I wasn't spending with my children in my arms, with my husband at my side, with my Bible open, with my pen in hand.

So when I went low in prayer on the topic of Lent, it should be no surprise that this was what was to be offered, the sacrifice that must be laid down.

"Stop talking to the world, and start listening to Me."

I've never observed Lent before, not really. And I didn't particularly plan on doing it this year either, but when I examined what my heart really needed in preparation for Easter, the whisper became a roar and I knew that my Ebenezer must become my Isaac in this Lenten season.

It's about listening. It's about getting quiet so I can be still and know that he is God. It's about seeking words for connection. Not the words of blogs or Facebook comments or Twitter, but the words I can only hear when my world gets quiet, when my ear is turned against the noise.

I'm laying down social media in observance of Lent. I'm attempting to turn, instead, to connection with the Creator in pursuit of a heart that more fully understands the Sacrifice we're meditating on during this season. This goes so strongly against my nature as the do-it-all queen, but I think that's entirely the point. There is nothing that needs to be done more than being present, more than fully listening, more than making room in crowded spaces.

The giving up? Fasting? This is never about what we can earn with our best efforts. It's about letting the Lord discipline our minds, hearts, and bodies to change course when we've gone off track, to allow for the craving of our flesh that can be fully satisfied by the cleansing of our heart.

I won't be around here much for the next 40-ish days. Won't be on Facebook or Twitter either. I do have a few book and product review commitments I've made that I'll honor (so I'll pop up every now and again), and I'll still be available by email or direct messaging by name, but for the most part, I'm just trying to quiet the constant stream making its way into my life, to tunnel my vision to the road toward Calvary.

See you around Easter, friends.

"Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." – Psalm 51:10-12

I blog for {you}

Have you had days when you wondered whether blogging was worth the effort?

I have.

As a busy working mom with a to-do list a mile long and an insatiable need to scratch my creative itch by writing (not to mention an emotional complex having me feeling guilty for every single moment I spend being nonproductive), I can get around to wondering whether the time I spend blogging is maybe, a tad bit… wasted.

I don’t have a million readers, and as of yet, WhimsySmitten hasn’t earned a nickel.  I’m often too busy to be completely “plugged in” to the blog world, and there are plenty of days when blogging doesn’t “pay off” for me the way it does for some more devoted bloggers out there.

But all this Relevant hooplah on my mind, watching the feeds and allowing my excitement to make me giddy, reminds me why I do this.

I do not blog for money.  I do not blog for stats.  I do not blog to get noticed, to make a name for myself, or because I have anything life-changing to say to anyone.

I blog for community.  I blog to reach across wires and space to tangle up inside your heart and head.  I blog so you’ll know, so I’ll know, that we’re all in this mess together, and to spotlight some of the beautiful moments on the journey, and some of the darker ones, too.  I blog because I love it more than laundry.  I blog to make sense of it all.  I blog because, along the way, I’ve discovered that you and I…we’re a lot more alike than different, and we’re all just trying to do our best and gather some wisdom as we go.

I don’t always have time to keep up with my blog subscriptions, but when I carve out time to read, in a matter of minutes or hours, I am transported to a world of kindred spirits, of creative inspiration and words that challenge my faith.  I am among friends…friends who, like me, haven’t had a shower in two days and have grape jelly in their hair, who start more projects than they can ever dream of finishing and find immense comfort in a cup of hot coffee.  Friends who love words and love Jesus and love this invisible space in the universe where we bare all to the whole-wide-world and watch the love and fellowship pour down all around us.

I blog for you.

And your comments, knowing you’ve taken the time to read what I’ve put out here, makes me smile the kind of wide smile that means all is right with the world, because I’m able to connect with amazing, beautiful you.  

Thanks for reading, friend.  You are the reason I blog.