Happy Birthday // Hope Extravagantly

My dearest brother-

Today is your birthday. 

How many years have I lived thinking there would never be another?

God. He is faithful. 

Cancer, it shouldn't be a routine or a part of anyone's life, but here you are fighting it like the bravest of them. Cancer doesn't give you a day off, so you keep fighting and scaling your mountains even when all you wish you could do is have a break. Have a breather. Do nothing for a while. 

But then, perhaps that is the secret that you know and none of us do- we never really get a day off. 

Every day is a precious, glorious thing. It's one you covet every morning you wake up and every night before you go to sleep. You do anything for one more day- one more chance to make memories, to say the words the hearts around you need to hear, to be there in the thick of it no matter the pain. 

How is it that you fight for this, while others just throw in the towel?

My childhood best friend committed suicide last month. Last week another girl I grew up with did the same. My shoulders bear the weight of phone calls and text messages from countless others who ask me, "Is this really worth it?" 

You and I, we're fighters, and it's hard for me to believe that not everyone is the same way. While they want to give up, I fight their battles for them on my own knees. 

And I pray you, when you feel that same weight, ask those same questions- I pray you do the same. 

Hope is what we crave. 

This year, that's what I pray over you, too. 

Hope. 

Not just hope for a day without cancer, or for one more opportunity. Not just hope for restoration, or hoping you've done all you could. 

I pray you hope in the God of Hope. 

Not just believe in God who sent His Son. Not just a deal with the Creator that if you obey Him, He'll give you your life back. 

He's more than that. 

I pray your relationship with Him fills you with hope in your inner being. That hope that says, "He is always in control and a miracle is always in every breath." That hope that fills you with joy and with peace, knowing that this is not out of His plan. 

Hope, because you trust Him. 

Those who throw in the towel, they lost that hope. They couldn't accept His love in the midst of pain, couldn't trust Him with their lives so they took their lives into their own hands. Nothing in the entire world could satisfy them with the joy and peace they desperately searched for- although He was right there, arms open to them, all along. 

I don't want you to merely survive cancer. I want you to thrive in the midst of cancer. 

I want you to live today- even with this kind of news- so full of grace and His glory that it's sloshing over onto everything you touch. 

Today- and every day- I want you to live extravagantly. 

Where we eat dessert for breakfast and go for midnight walks under starlit skies, where we randomly stop over people's houses to put flowers on their porches. Where no request is too much for us to do, no favor is too high a price. Where everything we do is motivated by love. 

Love does, after all. 

Isn't that the love He shows us? Always doing? Always giving? 

Always extravagant. 

This year, let's live the extravagant. Live moved by hope. Live being still in trust. 

And today, even though there's more treatments to think of and what if always plays in the back of your mind, I pray you celebrate without any hindrance of grief or depression. 

Because today, today is a gift. 

And you are an incredibly priceless gift to me. 

I love you always, 
Your sister
xoxo

Dear Me // Letter to Myself

Dear Me,

One day you'll read this and laugh, because you'll see all those dramas and embarrassments that made you want to sink into the floor as what they really are- such small, little things in comparison to what truly matters. Whether you smile with spinach in your teeth or walk with a twisted skirt, it really is not going to make-or-break your dreams. You may feel like they do- may feel like you've ruined your only shot at this- but I promise you, nothing will make-or-break the dreams God has placed within your soul. 

Don't sweat the small stuff. Even in a world that screams perfection, you were never made to meet that standard. Seeking after it will only leave you dry, empty, and drained of all the talents God wants to reveal through you. Give yourself grace and room to breathe. Give yourself time to take in the beauty, and time to heal from the wounds inflicted by others... and by yourself. Give yourself the freedom to be you- whimsical, lioness, freckle-faced and red-headed you- regardless of what other people say.

You'll look back on the biggest heartbreaks and see them as the greatest launching pads towards God's purpose for your life. Like the summer you had heat stroke and your military aspirations drained away with the IV in your arm, the year you traveled South and experienced culture shock but somehow your heart got tied there too, the winter where you went from joy to heartbreak in 6.3 weeks and your soul grew cold like the thick ice on the windowpane, the year you went to Israel and your world turned upside down and was shaken out.

Like the embarrassment, this pain will fade, too- so don't let it stop you from living life with gusto and whimsy, with joy and dancing and taking big risks. The only regret you will have in later years is from not spreading your wings to fly because you clipped them with fear. Don't spend life avoiding the "thud" of falling, because I promise you every "thud" is worth the 30 seconds of glorious flight living fully alive in the calling God has placed on your life. 

Through it all, you were made to worship with abandon, with every fiber of your being. Every meal you bake, every piece of art you make, is all a glorious song of worship to the King. Don't let others dictate what genre that song is supposed to be, what lyrics are to be spoken, or how fluent your Hebrew should be. God just wants you to show up- in the midst of all your passionate soul, in the midst of your imperfections, in the way that only you can worship Him.   

So dear Me, live with reckless abandon, with joy unspeakable, treasuring the raw blessings, wrestling in prayer, and counting the cost. Do life big, and in years to come you will be able to see this glorious unfolding. 

I guarantee, it'll leave you speechless.

Sincerely,
Me

Made for the Mountain

You and I- we were made for the mountain. 

We weren't made to wallow in the valleys, to camp out on the flat grasslands, to sit in the shade of complacency. 

We were made to climb higher, dig deeper, stretch further. 

That seems all well and good- but what about feeling like we're in the trenches of life? Like the mountain peak vista is so far away- so unobtainable? 

Can we get even a taste of that pure adrenaline glory-water that comes from standing on high places, in the midst of our mediocre mundane? 

You and I, we're made for the mountain- but what if we've got our eyes on Mount Everest instead of the mountains we need to scale today? 

The momma with her mountains of dishes, laundry, and children toppling on top of each other. The girl with her mountains of schoolwork, job complications, doubts and fears. The son with his mountains of bills, temptations, and workload. 

We pass over these mountains and look to the Mount Everests of amazing accomplishments instead- forgetting that we were made for these mountains too. 

Made to scale the mundane with grace. To overcome these obstacles with peace. Made to tackle each climb with gusto knowing that He is with us every step of the way- that these mountains are holy ground because He's with us.

Mountain climbers are made victorious in the overcoming. 

So take heart, friend- He's already overcome the world. 

Glorious Unfolding

The water pools in the streets, droplets dancing across the surface. The clouds rumble grey, dimming the lights before the wind carries them away. I watch from the window as the evergreens sway in dance and a mist rises from the ground. The curtains billow, and I edge closer, closer, until my forehead touches the screen.

My heart resonates with this.


I can't help but close my eyes and smile, water spray misting my face. My finger traces the damp windowsill, and I wonder if I should shut this glassy pane- but no. 


In the storm, I smell the fragrance of spring.

In the tempest and storm, life springs forth. In the waiting, He is still creating. And even when I feel the rain beat hard upon my back, I know it is yet for my good- purifying me, causing my roots to sink deeper into Him, into His grace, His love.

I trust in a glorious unfolding.

Because the rain is worth the majesty of the sun bursting forth in glorious array after the storm. Worth the vibrant green of the grass soaking it all up. Worth the brilliant bow of color bent across the sky, a reminder of His enduring promise.

Without the rain, the flowers cannot unfold.

This is life- the storms, the seasons of change, the new and the old and the yet-to-be. And I realize as I pray the Amidah in the jet-black morning, as I bang the pots and pans and the smell of breakfast brings the family together before the dawn- this is glorious. To watch as His glory unfolds- in this world, in the ones you love, in yourself. 

If we knew the end from the beginning, where would the anticipation of the unfolding be? 

I look back, and I am in awe- in awe of the constant refining and the outpouring of His grace to create new things within my soul. I'm speechless, unable to convey all that has been going on in my life and in my heart these past few months, the pruning being done in my life and the anticipation of being on the verge of something new. I am eager to see the unfolding- the gloriously unfolding- of what this new season holds. More refinement. More challenges. More beauty and clearer vision. More opportunity. New chapters, new stories penned by Him. After a year of betrayal and heartache and chemo and cancer, I've only been strengthened. My heart throbs with joy-

And this is just the beginning. 

So let the rain fall, dear one. Soak it up, drink it into your soul, let it seep into all the cracks and wounds. Don't shy away from the storm- life spring up from it. Don't run from the storm, hide in your room, build up fortified walls of protection.

Without the storm, the flowers will not unfold.

(oh, this- an anthem that has been on repeat for the past week. perhaps you'll do the same? make it your candle of hope in the midst of whatever storm you're in?)

Carving time to Breathe

Things have been silent on the screen, but much has been happening away from it. Another adventure to pack for, suitcases laying wide to be filled on the old honey-colored planks of floor, outfits spilling over the bed- a hodgepodge to be sorted, ordered, and made sense of. Evenings like this make my heartbeat quicken, makes it yearn for the things He's going to do. 

Yet it's a quiet evening, because in the midst of skirts and snacks and journals I carve out time for myself to simply breathe. 

This playing softly, in anticipation of a holy weekend of worship. Tea steaming in my old grad mug, perfect size for little hands like mine. Scripture scrawled on the wall, a reminder of His branding on my life, my very being, what He names me. Candles flickering on the table. 

I close my eyes and breathe. Breathe prayers of eucharisteo. Thanksgiving. Grace. Joy. Ponder the work He is doing, how He's weaving this story of mine. Taking frayed ends, tying them off, and weaving threads of gold through this tapestry instead.  

Who knew a story would be written like this? Not I.

So much higher. So much more beautiful. So much more meaningful. 

It's not just my story- it's yours, too. He's in the midst of your story, too- scripting and sculpting and burning away the dross. Bringing beauty from ashes. It's a promise- I've seen Him do it. 

So take a step back and pause. Close out the world. Take the time to breathe- when we stop rambling into the windy storm, shut our mouths and just listen, we will hear His still small voice in the whisper of the breeze. Enter in- and let Him show you the glory He's weaving, the ends He's snipping, and an awe-stirred realization of His faithfulness in your life. 

He's there in the quiet if you carve the time out to meet Him there. 

Grace-filled Simplicity

Growing up, summer was always my least favorite season. I hated the heat, the humidity, the sticky feeling when you go from AC to 90's. But this year, after a winter of darkness and cold, of chemo and pain, the sun's rays have seemed like soothing nectar to my soul. I've never experienced it before.

I can't stop drinking it up. 

Perhaps it's because after a taste of a muggy Southern summer I truly appreciate my balmy Northern one, or perhaps it's because my mighty Elohim is healing my soul- showing me how to sing again, to LIVE again. 

You only get one life to live- we have to embrace it. 

We have to get past the pain of chemo and the sting of relationships and the trama of death of loved ones. We have to learn to open our fists again and fully accept this crazy grace- HIS crazy grace. Choose to see these gifts He's given, to fully be alive and embrace every joy. 

I've found it in simplicity. Taking things slow. Recording these gifts, a living record of His faithfulness. 

I'm going to enjoy this summer to it's fading golden rays. Sometimes it's big things, like glorious weddings and traveling this beautiful country. Joy isn't materialistic things- it's dancing praise with all your might as your bare feet pound the plywood floor with a hundred other hearts, it's spending Shabbat by the lakeshore, it's mending relationships and building bridges. It's little things like sharing chips and pop in the shady grass with a fraction of the passel of nieces and nephews, it's coffee dates with mom, it's swinging on the hammock with my brother as the sun fades and we unburden our hearts to each other. These happy gifts are laughter, fresh produce, new friends and hearing from old ones. It's wrestling prayer, the breezes of fresh air, curly hair and long dresses that make me feel like a princess.

It's choosing to see everything with new eyes. Put the computer away, shut off my phone. Even if it's just for an hour or two- or maybe a whole week media free.

It's recording these moments of grace, these beautiful gifts He bestows on His unworthy bride...

Because love? It never stops giving. 

--
(care to share your list of grace gifts today? can we see if everyone can name at least 10- from sunlight flickering on the windowpane to cupping a hot mug of pumpkin spice latte? share yours in a comment below!) 

He's Passed Over // N.E.D.

I've been cleaning for days, trying to uncover any last remaining bits of leaven from this house. But today, it seemed longer than the rest. Passover Eve and still so much to do. I'll be honest, I didn''t do it all as cheerfully as I ought. Something was dragging me down. Chaining me. When life throws so much at you, sometimes you can only function in a fog. 

By now it's past 10:20 at night and I'm bone tired. Exhausted and barely able to keep standing at the computer. But we've been waiting. All evening we've been checking, waiting for my brother to finally tell us what his good news was. Waiting. Waiting. 

I didn't expect much. I know that now, because what he said put me in shock. 

He said the three most beautiful letters in the alphabet. 

N.E.D. 

The three most beautiful letters in the alphabet that I never thought I'd ever hear. N.E.D. No Evidence of Disease. I stand there in shock as mom starts rejoicing in the kitchen at this late hour. Did he just say...? My brain can't comprehend it. The only word it comprehends is HALLELUYAH. 

In that moment, the shackles fall from my ankles. The world rolls off my shoulders. 

My brother's living another day. Amazing how three little letters can change your world. 

I fall asleep with a praise on my lips. In the midst of the night, something disturbs my slumbers. I squint. Why is my room flooded with sunlight? It's 3 in the morning. I groggily pull back a corner of the blind. It's been months since I've seen such a bright moon. But in that moment I remember...

It's Passover. It was under this same bright moon thousands of years ago that Yehovah lead the children of Israel out of bondage. He lit their path, made clear their way. Tonight? He has passed over us, too. 

My mind screams "N.E.D" over and over and over again. If Ryan didn't live clear halfway across this great state, I'd beg him to waltz me around the room. To dance before the Father. No, Ryan is not the firstborn- but the Father has spared his life another day. Passed over. Passover. 

He's leading us out of Egypt. 

Joy // Flood Me

Joy.

When you're praying with a sister and come back from the prayer closet and this news greets your ear, when your heart sings a thousand hallelujahs, when the birds sing in the trees and who knew a brown Texas could look so green and beautiful? 

Joy. 

When the sunshine outside can finally touch my soul and He warms me from the inside out, when the flowers perfume the air and you can see beauty in this broken world, when each step you take is with more confidence in Him and isn't this what trials should do to you?

Joy. 

When the men break their fast and dad holds me while our hearts sing praise, when you're standing in the center of the food court reading the news and we gobble up His story before the food hits the table, when you follow the Father's leading and you SEE how all these fragments fit together, and shouldn't we all stand in awe that He should reveal a glimpse of His majestic sovereignty?

Joy.

When this story of our lives touches another cancer patient, tears streaming down her face, and dad tells her that her Creator loves her and has beautiful things for her, and we're all in a puddle of humble tears as  Yehovah God moves us and leads us for His glory- because isn't this what pain is all about?  

Joy.

When a father goes back to see his son, and can you imagine the love the Father has for His? 

Joy.

When I hold his hand and he squeezes back, when we say "I love you" again and again because we know now that this life is so fragile, when he kisses my cheek and I am overwhelmed with thankfulness, when this smile won't leave my face because I'm talking with him and we have undivided attention, and when's the last time you gave your brother yours?

Joy. God, You have flooded me to overflowing.

(yes, two posts in one day. but this heart is singing praise- even though it's not all over yet. with the surgery behind us, these next few days are critical and he's not out of the woods yet. continued prayers for pain management and healing!)