The Best of Grace

I could blame it on a post-wedding slump, but this week has been heavy. 

Heavy, trying to navigate a new normal with someone missing. From dancing at your brother's wedding on a joy high to the quiet silence between empty walls. 

I've felt sluggish and altogether not at the top of my game. I've forgotten things on my to-do list, took wrong turns more than once in an attempt to navigate new roads, and burned bread in the oven. I've pardoned lousy workouts at the gym with "A bad workout is better than no workout" as if it was all the validation I needed.

I could blame it on the slump, blame it on an aching body, blame it on my overwhelmed mind, blame it on exercised-induced asthma so bad that I'm constantly coughing stuff up on the treadmill in an attempt to breathe. I can make legitimate excuses for mediocre. I can reason out an explanation for taking things easy and not pushing as hard as I can. 

Yet, I'll never be able to explain away the act of trampling grace. 

To do things half-heartedly and blame the less-than-best results on other issues is using grace as a trampoline net. Grace is not something to take advantage of- just because you know it will catch you doesn't mean you're to jump on into it anytime you'd like. It's a truth that goes beyond the gym, beyond my half-attempted workouts this week, to every area of my life. 

Grace is there when I truly make a mistake while I'm doing my best attempt. 

It's not my excuse to slip into a lazy schedule or take time out from my priorities that need my attention. It's not my excuse to run half of my miles just because I'm feeling tired that morning and don't feel the enthusiasm. It's not my excuse to have my head in the clouds and let everything else chaotically slip on by because I'm overwhelmed. 

It takes discipline. 

Discipline to run as fast and far as I can, even if I'm the only one constantly clearing my throat in a crowded gym. Discipline to be alert and quick. Discipline to get things done efficiently. 

If I'm disciplined, and I make a mistake? If even after running as fast and far as I can, I'm still short of my goal?

I'll take grace then. 

But not until I've done my best. 

Here's to throwing excuses out the window and giving it all I've got this week.

Free and Full // Finding Intentional Moments

Math was never my subject.

There's no scope for the imagination, as Anne Shirley would say, in the realm of mathematics. Everything exact, precise, no room for error. You can't just throw numbers in and out and expect the same result. It's structured, ordered, and refuses to bend the rules.

So, it gets slightly depressing and rather overwhelming when you try to nail down how many hours you have in a lifetime. It may be upwards over 657,000 hours, yet time never stands still. It's always draining, always fleeting, always growing shorter.

You can calculate the math all you want- but you still have a life to live, and each moment is one you'll never get back.

I want to live it extravagantly. Not to waste a single moment, to do it big and with a bang of praise to Him. To live it free and full- free of fear, full of His glory.

Yet, in order to do so, I have to take control of the ticking clock before it takes hold of me. Before just checking my email turns into checking blogs, before searching for one recipe turns into researching something entirely different. Before one quick text to ask a question becomes one long conversation that keeps me from the task I'm in the middle of.

Before I waste my moments doing everything, or doing nothing.

I need to make my moments intentional.

And yet, in the middle of taking time for everyone else, I need to take time for myself. To feed my soul so that I can in turn pour it out.

Last week we had an unofficial family gathering, all piled into my aunt's living room sharing old memories with a long-lost relative. My cousin got up and left the room while we were all settling in, and returned moments later with a medium-sized zippered pouch. I leaned over the arm of my end of the couch to watch as she pulled out an embroidery project, and the creative in me became memorized in utter delight. I watched her open a small box of brilliantly colored floss, carefully choosing the shades she wanted. Her zippered pouch contained additional scraps of fabric, bold and beautiful, just waiting to be crafted into whatever her soul desired. My fingers itched to trace each pattern as she showed me different pieces she was working on, and as she did so I realized how much I needed to do this, too- and I'm on a hunt for that perfect zippered pouch to call my own. 

In the middle of sharing stories and listening to each other, she busied her hands to take care of herself, too. To do what she loved, to share what she loved.

She took hold of her moments.

It was only a scattered few- we all had to pile into cars but ten minutes later in order to make it to the restaurant on time- but she didn't let them go to waste. She took care of herself even while taking care of others. Doing what she loved, it opened her heart to give more love.

While I so often am pouring myself out, serving in whatever capacity I can, it can feel so selfish at times to just make time for myself. Yet Yeshua- He left and spent His morning hours alone with the Father. He poured into His own soul before He poured into others. 

It's not selfish if taking a moment for yourself means giving someone a better hour of service later.

So in those few moments that are "mine"- my mornings and evenings- I become intentional in pouring into my own soul in order to be overflowing in service to those around me. In the mornings I pray, praise, and read Scripture. I take the time to read that book, blog post, or magazine article that has been sitting on my desk or browser for the past week, those words that I know will speak life to my heart and encourage me to be all who God has called me to be. In the evenings, I make the time to paint, to draw, to scribble ink on pages and let my heart bleed out. I stitch and weave stories and scraps of fabric alike. I take the time to reflect on all God has done that day, all the ways I must thank Him for His goodness shining through. I take time to develop these giftings He's graciously given to me, to improve them and use them for His glory and to bless those around me.

I take time to breathe. 

It's space my soul needs. 

It's exhaling into the grace of God.