Singleness Series // Part One // Made for More than Typical

Last week, a friend asked for my thoughts on being single- specifically, what should she be doing with the extra time she has. It's a heavy question that all single young women ask, and if you're like me, you probably receive a multitude of answers in a very wide range of beliefs.

It makes the uncomplicated...complicated. 

Some say get a job. Other say date around. The ultra conservative ones say you should stay home and bake all day, and you should never look at or speak to a guy. The fence-sitters say get a local job and just put your toes in both worlds to feel out your beliefs.

If we're honest, everyone's advice (along with their mother's) is just not helpful. 

So when my friend asks this question, so many things run through my mind. There's so many different answers I could give, politically correct ones and those that are not, but truly the only one I want to give is the one I speak from my heart.

I get her- because I'm right where she is, too. 

I hear everyone's advice and input as they clamor to be right. I know what it's like to be the last one left at home, without little siblings to look after. I know what it's like to be an age far older than you thought you'd be while still unmarried. I've felt the shame people place on my shoulders along with- the worst of all- pity.

I have no reason to be pitied- and neither do you. 

Your life doesn't start once you say "I do"- it started the day you were born, the day God wove within your soul grand adventures and plans for you to fulfill. It pulses with the talents and gifts He's given you, just waiting to be tapped into to color your world and bless those around you.

If we're honest, we all wonder why He has us still here as single women. We wonder why it's taken so long, why our well-laid out plans lie crumpled on the floor. It seems He's testing the strength of our starch- whether or not we'll still stand tall. Unfortunately, some don't- they lose hope and succumb to being numb, living a typical American life, void of passion.

You were not made to succumb to typical. 

Let me tell you- the reason you are single is not because God is "still working on your husband".

(Can I pause here and say how much I can't stand that phrase?! Like, really- is my husband some caveman heathen? Because it shouldn't take this long, and that's just a really dismal thought!)

(okay, thank you for that release of steam- now back to original train of thought)

You are not single because of circumstances outside your control or because you are not refined enough. You are not single because your husband hasn't showed up on the scene or- God forbid- he truly is a heathen.

The reason is because you are more effective for the Kingdom in this season as a single woman. 

The reason is because God wants to bless you for your good in this season.

He is not withholding better things down the road- He truly has blessing for you. 

I want to tell you how to seize these moments, to embrace these blessings, to savor these opportunities. I want to tell you how I've found joy and purpose and passion where God has me- and how you can have the same, too.

There are so many things I want to share, so many things on my heart. I hope you stick around for a little series as I share my thoughts over the next few weeks- and I pray it sheds more light on your path, giving you great ideas and honing your vision. Stay tuned!

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

Fear and Fatih

2014 was an amazing year.

It was my year of redemption, to stand on the mountaintops and to see that the past two years of pain were not for nothing. That ever step I took- even in the dark- was on one sure path to the destination He had intended for me.

It was my year of E'chad, my year to be one with God- to be so focused on doing all for His glory and for Him alone that I wasn't concerned on pleasing the crowds and dancing for the approval of others. I won't pretend it was easy- but it was so, so worth it.

It was restoration. To see Him open His hand with good things as I sought who He is, as I pursued a deeper relationship far more intimate than it had ever been before. It was beautiful, and I didn't want it to end.

2015 came, and I determined I would continue on my one-word journey with Emuna- faith- knowing that everything that comes into my life is for a purpose and a reason. It's a year of hope, believing that He has good things in store and that He works all things for my good. Trusting that everything He allows is to shape my character and to grow me into the woman He wants me to be.

I was ready for another year of great things- but in order to get great things, it takes great work, too. Only real risk tests the reality of a belief.

Faith...it seems so simple. Believing like a child. No fear, no anxiety...serenity. Not knowing all the details, and that being okay.

I didn't realize that to say yes to the Year of Emuna was also to say yes to the Year of No Fear.

And that's terrifying.

It's terrifying to jump out of the boat. Terrifying to do the hard things. To do the uncomfortable, the uncommon, the overlooked. Terrifying to take the initiative, to put your heart out there and stake it all on what God has called you to do.

It's terrifying to take that leap of faith. 

Faith isn't defined by comfort or complacency. It's defined by forgoing all logic and statistics, by taking both feet off of solid ground and knowing God is going to meet you there.

Fear and faith cannot coexist. 

I can't trust God and not act upon it. If I say I want increased faith, I have to know that the ground I stand on is going to shift from underneath my feet. I have to know that when the walls crack and the rain pours and the storm swells, that it is well because He's got it all in His Hands. Faith means I can't sit idle. I have to be out there, getting my hands dirty and my brow sweaty, doing hard things in completely faith that He is going to take my tiny measure and make it into something more.

I can't fear failure. I can only trust His faithfulness.

From E'chad to Emuna, I stand at the edge of the cliff and my knees shake. My heart races.

But this is living fully alive. 

Throw fear to the wind- because faith demands the leap.

You may feel like you're falling, but this is how He will teach you to fly. 

The Girl with Blonde Hair

I had never been so broken before.

My heart thundered, then stopped, then thundered a million more rolls again.

I couldn't leave. I couldn't. 

This place where my heart was planted deep in the rocky terrain, where I bled and I cried, where I laughed and my heart was opened to joy again. To letting people into my brokenness. To being raw and vulnerable without fear.

Where my hand was opened again to receive His good gifts. 

Where I physically saw Him answer prayer in ways I could have never imagined.

Where I fell in love with Him all over again. 

Where He romanced my heart, danced with me through the storms and showed me just a glimpse of the breathtaking vistas He has in store.

I'm not a very emotional person. I could probably count on one hand how many times I've cried in public my entire life. Next to the time when we found out my brother's cancer had returned, I had never sobbed so hard in my life. Wracking sobs that shook my soul.

I felt like I was being emptied. I felt my heart leave my chest, heard mom calling my name, pulling my hands to get onto the van, but my eyes couldn't leave this place. They roamed and scanned wildly and tried to lock in every detail through blurry vision, eyelids blinking to clear.

Now thousands of miles away, months later, it's still a moment I relive a hundred times a day. The burning ache where my heart used to be, my soul yearning to be reunited again.

Some people don't get it. They try, but they just can't. They haven't seen what I've seen, felt what I've felt. They haven't had the dirt run through their fingers and the vision seep into their veins until it wraps and engulfs their very core.

And yet, others do. 

I may relive that moment a hundred times a day, but there's more than just feeling my heart being torn, falling onto the sand. I see more than just blurry images through the tears.

I see a girl with blonde hair. 

She followed me all that day. Hugged me. Wiped tears from her own eyes as she saw mine. She stood by me for hours as we waited for the bus. She whispered words of hope into my ear, then was brave enough to stand there in silence to give room for both our thoughts. She was real- beautifully real- giving of her soul not because it was the "right thing" to do, but because she simple did it without any pretenses or reservations. I may have been seven years her senior, yet she so faithfully ministered to my needs without even a clue. She didn't make it her "ministry". She didn't do it for praise. She just did it- because that's what love does.

And after 3 weeks of pouring into everyone around me, her action wrapped around me like a warm blanket that assured me I wouldn't be alone in this.

She didn't say it would be okay. She didn't say I'd get over it. She didn't tell me to stop crying, that the tears wouldn't stop the inevitable. She didn't say that I had a purpose elsewhere and that's why I had to leave.

She reminded me that He still loves me. 

She reassured me over and over that this was not the end- that He would bring me back. This was not a once in a lifetime experience- it was the beginning of a lifetime of purpose I had never known before.

That this look was not the last. 

There were others who had come by my side that day. They spoke as well, gave hugs and even prayed. But somehow, the girl with blonde hair vividly stands out from the rest.

She silently lived with me through that moment. Didn't speak the profound, just told me what my heart needed to hear. She cried, but she didn't leave. She stood with me as the minutes dragged tortuously onward as I waited for the van. She ran with me. She saw the unglamorous and jagged and didn't shy away.

I want to be like the girl with blonde hair. 

Want to live with people in the moment, in the broken, and be fully there to pour into their souls. Not because I have to, not because it's right- but because I'm right there with them. Not to be the hero- but to be the whisper in their ear that He still loves you. I don't want to shy away from the ugly, from the painful, but to embrace it with the arms of Christ.

It's not a duty, not a job to fix the world, never a place of glamor. It's a position of deepest humility, knowing you can't make it better, knowing your words are nothing.

It's standing there, even in the awkward and uncomfortable, to let Him live through you.

Even in silence and not saying a word. Through just being near. To say "You're not alone, because I'm choosing to walk this hard path with you"

And in that memory, I choose to live like that a hundred times a day.

Enough // Fill the Soul

The tea brews dark in the clear pot, the sound of the kettle still bubbling as the leaves sink deep. Steam curls upwards as I pour the golden liquid into an artsy hand-painted mug- the mug that is my favorite, with all its perfect imperfections and uneven beauty. I wrap my hands around ceramic and breathe long and slow. It smells of havdalah in a cup, sweet and spicy. Havdalah, the closing out of Shabbat, when we begin to count the days until it rolls joyfully around again. 

Some days, I wish I could speed the 24 hour periods between then and when I get to rest in His presence. To be undistracted. Still. Quiet. Listening. Ready. 

So instead I pour a cup a tea, steal away where it's just me and a whole lot of Yeshua. 

I sip slow and deliberate. I soak and absorbe the Word in front of me. I ponder hope. I sing softly holy melodies and try to embrace the few minutes I have before the schedule and grind being anew. Another day dawning, another race to run. Children to love on, souls to feed, people to serve. 

I can't do it on empty. 

I don't know what each day holds, but I know that I am not enough. 

I am not strong enough, brave enough, grace-filled enough, courageous enough, joyful enough. 

Yet He is. 

He fills my soul with the goodness of His presence and that, that is enough. Enough for 4:30am mornings, enough for fussy toddlers, enough for 21 meals cooked in the kitchen, enough for listening to another's life story, enough for my long to-do list, enough to love and forgive even when I just feel too tired to. 

My mug lies empty on the quilt, and time runs its last few grains of sand from the never-ending drip of an hourglass. But my soul- my soul is still and I know that this week He's going to give me all I need. 

All. It is enough. 

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?)

Personal // Girl Of My Heart

Precious Girl-

Oh girl of my heart, we're so much alike. I look at you, and I see me. 

And I'll say, sometimes it scares me. 

Scares me to think of all the struggles you'll go through, the lies you'll believe, the huge challenges you'll need to overcome. You'll have your fair share of tears and drama and heartache and depression. You'll fight to understand who you are, with ADD and a broken family and insecurity thinking you're at the bottom of the barrel.

And how I wish I could just hold you close. Make the ugly world hide its face. Open your eyes to see the truth and to stand up against the lies.

Ten years apart, you and me, but let me tell you, this aunt of yours still remembers what it was like to be your age. Plain as day. And your Mimi could recall countless tales of your ol' aunt sobbing in bed, thinking the world will end because the acne won't go away, friends shattering my world with their careless words and actions, comparing myself to girls prettier and smarter and skinnier until I could never measure up. 

It's a joy-stealer, darling one. Comparison will rob you blind. 

You are you. Beautiful, unique, amazingly wonderful you. You're the size you are, freckled the way you are, your hair straight and thick the way it is, all because God crafted you the way you are...because it gave Him pleasure. Every part of you, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet, was crafted specifically and purposefully to give glory and honor to your Creator. Don't mar the beauty He's given you, precious girl, just because the world says you need to be different. Don't compare, girl- because there is nothing and no one to compare yourself to. There's no one in the world who could come close to who you are- because God only created one of you. Take it from your ol' aunt- starving yourself to fit into someone else's size, dressing to appease fashions and trends, cutting your hair and coloring it do look like someone on the screen...it will never bring you happiness or the confidence you seek. 

Never. Ever ever. Looking outside of yourself, you will never see who God has created you to be- and that is where the happiness and confidence is found. In Him. In who He created you to be. 

God has beautiful, unique, amazingly wonderful plans for your one-of-a-kind life. No one else can fill that place, girl. No one else can do what He has placed you on this earth to do. It may never be rescuing orphans in India, cleaning the slums of Haiti, or traveling the world on a book tour. It may just be the little things. Caring for your brothers and sisters. Being faithful to stand for Truth even though you stand alone. Reaching out to the unpopular girl at co-op who sits in the corner- unpopular because the popular ones deemed her the wrong size, wrong color, or wrong style. 

 It may be little things, but believe me, He's got plans for you- and you're going to be a world-changer if you're faithful. 

You're not a mistake, girl of my heart. Your quirks and personalities are given as a gift- ADD, family history, and all. Yes, it will take years for you to grow into them and be confident in what God has given you. Your aunt still doesn't have it down herself- and that's okay. But girl, you know what? We can grow together to reach the highest heights when we embrace these giftings and let God have His perfect way in our messy, broken lives. 

You're not my baby girl anymore. You're on the fast-track to becoming a woman. Life gets more complicated every day, but promise me, darling- promise me you'll open your Bible every day and let the Truth seep into your soul, into the wounds and confusion and drama that life throws at you. Cling to your Heavenly Father. He'll never change- He'll be the rock you can stand upon even though the waves are crashing high. He'll be the Father who protects you and loves you and will never let you go. 

I miss you, sweetheart. Desperately.

Last week, I cried all night. My chest grew tight with missing you. Wishing I could hold you in my arms. Go over and babysit you again- and depend on you as my right-hand girl, in the midst of fists flying and bloody noses and everyone demanding they want something different for lunch. To hear you ask your million questions and try to answer them one by one. 

Remember when Ali came, and some of you ran hiding to the boys' bedroom? How we all just piled on the lower bunk, and I held you all close? How we talked and shared and laughed, and when you were ready we went back out- and the world wasn't scary anymore? 

I will always treasure that, dear one- because I know not when we'll be able to do that again. 

But never doubt this, girl of my heart- with every beat of my own, my love for you will always remain. I'm praying for you. Loving you. Missing you. And forever, always here for you. 

I love you,
Sho 
x0x0

Personal // Like Challah Broken

Shabbat is like a whisper of calm, a gentle breeze of peace that floats in through the windows as the sky turns to fire. The music low, the candles lit, the glasses filled, the bread broken. And now, just me alone in the rocker with Mr. Kitten snuggled over my arm as I type. The house quiet. The boys asleep. Mom at the table with the lights dim, book open. 

After one crazy week, peace feels so good. 

My life is not your typical American stereotype. It's a lot of reaching out, a lot of giving, and least I sound like a selfless religious angel, it's often a lot of giving I don't like to do.

Giving my time during a busy week. Giving my family when I feel like I haven't had much time with them myself. Giving our food and money when we're not sure when the next paycheck is coming. Giving up my schedule. Giving when it doesn't feel like it's appreciated. 

This week was a long one (you know, typical stuff- neighbor got arrested, another friend had a texting fight that got sent to our phone, huge misunderstanding over e-mail, having one hour notice before picking up a young teenage girl from the inner city, having said girl's stay turn into a week and a half instead of the originally planned four days, and completely feeling overwhelmed at the ticking clock as we rush to get packed for Israel. yep, can't see how it could get more typical than that), and peace is what my heart has been longing for. 

I've been broken- broken like challah, then passed around. Passed around until I feel like there is no crumb left for myself. 

That's a place I never want to be. 

If I'm at that place, I turn bitter- self-focused instead of other-focused. Too consumed about my own comfort that I withhold that last morsel of nutrition for myself instead of giving it to another soul in desperate need. When I don't like to give- of my time, family, resources, of myself- it's because my eyes have strayed from the goal. 

I'm not asked to give only to those who appreciate. I'm asked to give it all, to all, as He has given to me. 

I have truly experienced that it is more blessed to give than to receive. The neighbor arrested? His mother was the first ones to call us for help. It's wonderful to feel needed. The e-mail mix-up? It was a self-check for us to respond with humility. We all need to stop and look in the mirror of Scripture. To examine. Scrutinize. Become holy as He is holy. The inner city girl? She taught me so much- from grace and unshakeable faith to what areas of the city to avoid (yikes), what weave is (total enlightenment), and how squatters turn on the water and electric (not that I needed that. just sayin'). Everyone is a teacher if our hearts are willing to become a student. 

And packing? It'll get done, even though we'll blink and time is up. What's needed will end up in the suitcases, even if one of us forgets something else. It'll get done, because this is what Yehovah God has called our family to- and He's asking we step out of the boat and onto the waves. Giving to His people. Giving to His Land. 

When you live with hands cracked open to grace, you will be broken and poured out and- even in the chaos and drama- you will be blessed sevenfold. 

Shabbat shalom...sabbath peace...it fills the rooms on our last weekend together, and I cannot begin to imagine the lessons and the blessings this new venture will bring. 

And being broken like bread, passed around? Isn't this what Yeshua has done for us? Do it- whatever sacrifice or giving you're asked to do- in remembrance of Him.

Personal // It Is Good

To be honest, I dreaded this birthday. Between turning another decade and memories from last year's birthday that still leave me in tears, how could I not? 

So when I'm standing at the sink doing a mountain of dishes alone, still in sweats and the afternoon is flying by, with coughing children on the couch and germs flying in the air- things weren't looking up for this year and I'll admit, depression was setting in. 

It's been one long year. 

Cancer. Betrayal. Death. A horrible family emergency that's still underway. World-traveling. Often being responsible for 6 children when I least expect it. Joy. Tears. 

I stand at the sink and tell mom I don't feel like celebrating. My heart feels as grey as the winter sky above, flakes falling swift and sure, smothering the world below. 

But if you have to do it, you might as well make the most of it. Do something and your heart will eventually follow. I pick out mismatched plates in bold colors (chevron and zebra stripes, anyone?), hang a pin-the-tail-on-Zevi-the-Zebra on the door, try to get in the spirit of joy. Phone rings, I answer, and the bestie's voice bubbles on the other end. She's excited about my birthday, can't wait to show me something....and slowly, joy rubs off on me. 

I hang some streamers to celebrate. Another friend sends me a text out of the blue, makes the sun start to peak around the clouds. 

Mom comes home and surprises me with a bouquet of daisies, dressed in bright bold blues and yellows and pinks and greens. I start arranging them in my favorite little vases I picked up at rummage sales, and the smile comes. 

Yes, this birthday is good. 

Good to leave the past behind. Good to walk through this season and heal. Good to walk life as an adult and take responsibility for my choices. 

I get tangled by a rowdy bunch of kidlets at the door, all clamoring for hugs and kisses. I take the oldest niece to pick up my gluten-free/dairy-free pizza, and we chatter in the car. I share a Virgil's with my grandpa and spin the kids dizzy for pin-the-tail-on-Zevi. 

Yes- it is good. 

And when my Energizer Bunny Boy comes down with a fever and his little body shakes cold, I head out to the store on a medicine run and spend the rest of the evening rubbing Vicks on little feet, coaxing down medicine and wiping tears. Yesterday it was cleaning up blood and rocking the youngest, keeping her calm after a major bloody nose. Two days before that it was doing math and spelling at the kitchen table with six voices asking questions and me trying to wrack my brain to remember the answers (why didn't anyone tell me that I really would need to remember the things I learned in school?). 

Yes- life is good. 

So hello new year- let me take you on with shoulders squared, boots on, and pack empty. Here's to dancing for the audience of One and living fully where He has me- bloody noses, drama, and all. 

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!) 

Sundays are for...

...baking blueberry muffins...

...wrestling prayer...

...wearing "new"/thrifted jewelry...

...aviators in wavy hair...

...chai with mom in my favorite (local) city...

...shopping at organic healthfood stores...

...trying new gluten free items...

...walking around on the balcony as the sun sets...

...catching up with friends...

...watching a movie with mom...

...pretty envelopes waiting to be mailed on Monday...

...pondering the concept of transformation...

..."Ani Ma'Amin" in the kitchen...
...dabbling with watercolors...
...flickering lantern light...
...days of gratitude...

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. 

Raw Blessings

I started this blog so I could have a place during this cancer journey where my heart could bleed out words- so that it could heal through setting them free. My writings are raw because I tell things the way they are, the way they feel, the way they effect myself and my family. Cancer is not a happy topic- no hardship, illness, or trial is.  You can't sugarcoat heartache or emotions. Because of that, I will not tell you to lighten up through the trials you're facing. I will not tell you that you just need to get over the hurt and pain. However, I will tell you this: you have to wrestle through it- claim Him as your God, no matter what happens. I can tell you that, because I've gone through it. I could list pages of hurts, trials, disappointments, tears, frustration, and then some that this cancer journey has handed me. 

But I could also list pages of blessings. 

I can tell you the blessings of learning to wrestle in prayer, the blessings of treasuring every day as a gift from God, the blessings of loving and serving my family, the blessings of LIFE, the blessings of tears shed together, the blessings of someone's arms around you for comfort, the blessings of the Body of Christ coming together to encourage you and pray with you, the blessings of memories, the blessings of knowing how to help others in the same situation you're going through, the blessings of having nothing left to cling to but His promises, the blessings of a deeper and richer walk with Him as He walks you through the valley...

Sometimes, our biggest blessings...they come through raindrops. Tears. Sleepless nights and fears. The raw heartache. Emotion. 

This woman, she knows. The song "Blessings" was born through her husband's battle with a brain tumor. This song wrestles through all the things we want, the things we view as blessings...but comes to realize that maybe, we've had the wrong definition of blessings all these years. He's showering us with gifts, even through the storms. We just have to choose to see them as such. 

It's a feeling and a knowledge that I cannot describe in words. You'll only experience it when you're the one walking through the valley. I'm not just talking of cancer- we all have our shadows of darkness that we must walk through, whether it be broken relationships, job loss, death, or defeat. It's in those moments when you realize that your relationship with God is not fluff, it's not fancy words, it's not the glamorous blessings of prosperity...

...it's that He's there with you. Carrying you. Causing you to see that He is your all in all- everything you will ever need. Showing you how to cling to His promises. Knowing that even though we're blinded by our human instincts of frustration and anger and doubt, He's standing strong before us- guiding us and lighting our way. 

And that is the greatest blessing of all. 

(let's make this a declaration, shall we? share your raw blessings in a comment below. declare the promises you cling to. no matter who you are, whether i know you or not...we're all on this journey together. so let's praise Him together, yes?)