The Prayer Journey // Prayer Journaling Made Simple

Part One // Part Two // Part Three 

I am so excited for today's post, because I love practical application and sharing different ideas! Prayer journaling has been something I've always struggled with. In years past, I've started several prayer notebooks, but I never kept up on them. They felt too...structured. Intimidating. At times, even discouraging.

It just wasn't me. 

I'm someone who likes to see results, and to list all my prayer requests in a row just seemed deflating. Not that God doesn't work, but it just felt like a list of wants- even if it was on behalf of other people.

It was more like a record book of what God did rather than a living relationship, a breathing communication. 

After many years of trial and error, I finally found a system that works for me- and today I'm going to get really practical, open, and share what my tools look like. If you've struggled with keeping prayer notebook before, I hope this will inspire you to try again until you find something that works for you! Once you find something that works for your specific personality, it's really not that hard. 

I encouraged you in my last post to look for a perfect notebook to make into your own prayer notebook. This, is mine:

I was gifted this faux leather journal and as soon as I felt its cover I knew I wanted to use it for prayers. Using scrapbook paper and washi tape, I sectioned it off into different categories- family, friends, nations, self, husband, plans, praise, etc. Within each category, I either copied out prayers that I really loved from Scripture/biographies, or I wrote out my own prayers (I talked about liturgy HERE). The prayers I wrote out were my own "liturgy"- things that I want to make sure I pray for, and points that act as a springboard to pray for more. For example, if I have a friend who is sick, I can turn to the prayer I wrote out specifically for sick friends. As I pray through the words I've written, different things will come to my mind, and I'll pause to pray those things as well. It causes me to become specific and bold in praying, instead of simply asking, "Lord, please heal this person".

In other words, my written prayers become my go-to battle plans. 

Side note: for any young woman who has struggled to be faithful in praying for her future husband- this is an amazing tool. Writing out a prayer with specific points helps keep your mind focused on the spiritual battle! 

Another side note: writing out prayers for yourself is so powerful and keeps you accountable! Listing character traits you need to work on and reading them on paper instead of thinking of them in your mind brings it to a whole different level. 

To summarize- I have someone specific in mind that I want to pray for. I go to whatever section that person would be under and use a prayer there that is fitting to the circumstance. As I pray these powerful, precise words, different thoughts will come to my head and I'll pause within the sentences to pray for these things as well. 

So, I have my prayer notebook, but it's more general prayers in the sense that I can put anyone's name in if that particular category/situation is appropriate. I don't have specific needs written out, other than I do have names of friends underneath some prayers in my friend category. But as far as praying for other people outside of my family, my prayer notebook usually isn't used for them. 

Thus, I have my photo prayer book. 

It's just a simple photo album, with photos of friends who I want to be faithful in praying for. On the back of each photo, I have narrow sticky notes with different prayer points for that particular family/friend. This way, I can add or subtract points as the situation changes, keeping everything neat and tidy. During my prayer time, I can either pray for that person as I flip through the pictures, or I can pull the card out and pray specific points. I can also draw out one card each day and commit to praying for that person all day. For me, pictures keep me much more involved rather than just a name across a page. Seeing their faces keeps me accountable in praying faithfully!

As much as I'd love a picture of everyone (that's pretty much a hint to flood my inbox with your pictures so I can pray for you- win-win, right?), there are people who I don't have their picture. For these people, I have an empty slot that I simply put in sticky note strips with that person's name and specific request. I can see them all at a glance, or I can pull them out one by one. 

See? Not hard at all. 

To recap, I use my prayer notebook for specific prayers/liturgy/soundboard praying, and I use my photo prayer book for friends/friends' prayer requests. 

Lastly, during my prayer time, I also write out my prayers in my personal journal. I've found that- again- my prayers are more focused if I write out my prayers instead of just praying them in my head.  As I listen to worship music, I will write out what's on my heart and what I'm facing or struggling with on paper in my personal journal. There's no separate journal for this to make it feel professional or stiff- it's just pouring my prayer in ink just like I would share about an experience I had or a lesson I learned. So, after I've used my prayer notebook and photo prayer book, if there's anything I want to talk to God about my week or feelings of my soul or needs for provision or life in general, I'll write out a prayer in my journal. These are really my heart-prayers, the ones where I ask for guidance for specific situations that I face that week. They're honest, vulnerable, down-to-earth. They're "right now" prayers, not necessarily ones I go back and pray again because they're very specific to my life at that particular moment. 

They're prayers communing with not just my Heavenly Father, not just my King- but my Best Friend. 

And truly, it's the same He wants from you, too. Don't let fear of prayer, or of fasting, or of liturgy, or of journaling keep you from seeking after Him with all that you are. It's okay to have trial and error, to figure out what works and what doesn't. But keep at it. Each step, no matter how wobbly, is one more closer to a more confident you who takes bold steps of faith even when they feel scary.

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I really hope this was able to inspire and encourage you- the Father longs to hear from you, and hopefully this will begin your own prayer journey deeper to the center of His heart! If you start a prayer journal (or already have one that works for you!) I would love to hear about it- drop me a comment and share your testimony! 

The Prayer Journey // The Beauty of Liturgy

// PART ONE // PART TWO //

If I'm honest, I'd tell you that liturgical prayers used to scare me. From past church experiences, they were looked upon as almost unholy to pray because it wasn't your own words from your heart. 

I wish I had learned the truth of the beauty of liturgy years ago. 

Instead of fumbling through trying to express what's on my heart, if I had understood the sweetness and simplicity of reading a prayer- and then making it my own- it would have taken my prayer journey farther, much more quickly. 

Don't let liturgy scare you like I allowed it to scare me. 

I shared here how part of the challenge my brother and I did was to pray for 30 minutes every morning. We used a prayer book to start off with and then closed with our own prayers for the day. Every morning I knew exactly what I would pray, what I would add. It was special knowing that although in our separate rooms, my brother and I were joining together in unity, praying for the same things. It wasn't a time of trying to fill the air with stumbling words- it was filled with words with precise purpose. 

And truly, who wants to come bumbling and mumbling before a King?

I also challenged you to go through Scripture, find prayers that were spoken by holy men and women, and to make those prayers your own. For example, taking Ephesians 3:14-21 and replacing "you" with the name of the person you're praying for. This, too, is "liturgy" in its own right- powerful, purposeful, precise. 

There is something beautiful and powerful in praying the prayers spoken by holy men and women of old.

Can you imagine if we all began praying prayers like this? If we started praying back Scripture, reminding God of His promises and praising Him for His faithfulness? 

What would happen if we weren't afraid to pray bold prayers? 

Maybe you're just starting out on this deeper prayer journey. Maybe the words come slow, or not at all. Or maybe you've always prayed but it's become a ritual that needs to be sparked into a holy flame again. Maybe you've always shied away from liturgy and didn't know where to start. 

It's okay to join in and pray bold prayers from saints gone before. 

It may just be the spark you need to set your prayer life into a brilliant blaze. 

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This week, be intentional to incorporate liturgy into your prayers. Pray back Scripture, use a prayer book- or even search Pinterest for prayer quotes from missionaries or Kingdom-minded authors. Also, be on the lookout for a perfect notebook to copy these prayers into one convenient place that's easy to use. I know prayer notebooks can seem intimidating and confusing- they always were for me!- so next week I'll share a glimpse into what I've found to work the best.

The Prayer Journey // Fasting in Hunger for More

// Read Part One HERE //

In the journey of prayer, what takes you from simply saying words, to engaging with your whole heart? What kindles the fire in your soul, a yearning for the Kingdom that won't be satisfied until you see the restoration? 

What changes a struggling five minute prayer into hours spent before the throne, not wanting your time interceding to come to an end? 

Last week, I shared how important dedication is. In anything, if you want to master something you have to be dedicated in learning and investing time to that skill. It's no different with prayer. We can all say how we want to become closer to God, but unless we do something it's not going to change overnight. 

You may want a thriving prayer life- but what are you going to do about it? 

Many people find themselves at this crossroad, some without even knowing it. I didn't know I was there myself, until a couple years ago a friend of ours challenged my younger brother to spending 90 days seeking God like he never had before. He suggested fasting from all media, getting rid of smart phones, purging books and music. For a family who has pretty high standards when it comes to media, it didn't seem like too hard of a challenge- until he also asked that my brother would fast once a week and spend at least 30 minutes praying every morning. 

30 minutes. 

I joined in simply because I wanted to support my brother on his journey deeper to the Father's heart. I had no personal motives other than to help him stay accountable- and I had no clue the impact it would have in my own life. 

Fasting was an incredibly difficult thing to do for me. If I don't eat, my blood sugar drops, I get lightheaded, and my reaction time slows considerably. And now here I was, about to fast every week for the next 90 days. The first few weeks were torture- I'd barely make it to 4pm before I would end up eating. I wanted to give up, but it's amazing having accountability. If my brother could do this, I could too. As each week went by, I learned when my body would need to have a sip of juice in order to keep going and at what times I needed to be in prayer in order to keep focused. 

It was a journey, crying out for more of God and less of me. 

But that was only the fasting part- prayer was an even bigger mountain to climb. 

During our weekly fast day, we were supposed to take 30-60 minutes to pray in the afternoon. I will never forget my first few weeks of fasting. I'd go into my room in the afternoon to pray, sit on my floor and not know where to start. I'd read Scripture, listen to worship music, and pray...and then look in horror to see that it had only been 15 minutes. I was frustrated at how time dragged by and how I just couldn't seem to keep my attention. 

Yet I was determined- I would learn to enter in. 

I tried many things and slowly found what worked best for me. I'd listen to worship music and let that begin to direct my prayers. I'd write my prayers out in my journal so that I'd stay focused on every word. I'd read Scripture and pray the verses back to Him, changing it to make it personal. Soon, 15 minutes stretched to 30 and then into 50. Eventually it wasn't a chore or something I didn't know what to do with. While before it seemed void of emotion, now I was overwhelmed with who God was and who I was not. I would cry before the Lord over the things I was facing that week that burdened me, I would cry in repentance and in longing of heart. I would laugh with joy as a lyric or a verse would come, almost in response to what I was praying about. And, at times I would just be still before Him- soaking in His presence without a word. 

I began to lose track of time. 

Instead of feeling like I had too much time to fill, I began to feel like I didn't have enough. Soon I'd hear the family call for dinner and feel like I'd barely had time to pray. It was more than a beautiful change, it was the blossoming of a rich and vibrant relationship with the Creator of the Universe in a way I had never experienced before. 

If you do something with all your strength, your heart and emotions will follow. 

Somehow the 90 days went from dragging by to being over in a second. My brother and I had found a treasure we didn't know was missing from our lives, and we decided to take it beyond the 90 days- and I haven't stopped since. Each week, my prayer and fasting day is the one I look forward to the most. My soul craves it just as much as it craves the sabbath. It's my day to quiet my soul before the Lord, to intercede for people I know, to seek guidance for my week. It's one thing to pray every day, but it's another to fast in total dedication to seeking the Father's will. 

Whenever people tell me how they want to develop a deeper prayer life, I always suggest this same challenge. Yes, it starts out hard. Yes, it takes work and dedication. 

But be prepared to go deeper into the heart of God like you never have before. 

i will engage // yelling at the devil

It's the season of miracles. 

I suppose you need the darkness in order to see the light, but right now I'm not ready for it.

I'm not ready for more spots. More cancer. 

I'm not ready, so I hide. I go to work, take my classes, try to get over this never-ending cold I have while working out how to rearrange everything into a feasible schedule. I don't let my emotions engage. I take the news in survival mode, where things are statistics and solutions.

It's not that I don't care- I care too much. 

As siblings, we all have this bond. We have the same blood in our veins. When one of us hurts, we all hurt- each in our own way. Some of us hide. Some of us run. Some of us talk, some of us stay silent. We all process it differently, all share it differently...but we all hurt.

I don't want to hide- I want to engage. 

After a long week of classes and being sick myself, I drove home from work today feeling so unconnected. I think back to the last time there was spots on his brain, and no emotion was almost as bad as feeling so much. How can I engage? Stay sane? A song came over the radio, and I sat there in traffic feeling numb.

I am not ready to live without him. 

Words seemed trapped in my mouth, words I wanted to say but wasn't sure if it would be acceptable. If they would be appropriate. If this was how I needed to engage. I tried twice, but they didn't come out.

I took a deep breath, and forced my mouth open:

I yelled at the devil. 

I shook my fist in traffic and shouted-

You cannot take him. 

As soon as the words were out, the tears came. The wall I built around my soul to stop the pain came crumbling down in a flood. I blinked hard to see the slow moving cars surrounding me.

If God wants to take him, it's His right, but I refuse to sit by and let anything else steal him away. Refuse to see anything except the complete restoration and redemption in his life. I refuse to just stand by and pray simple prayers.

I will war.

There in traffic, I shouted out my prayers while the broken dam of tears found their release. I yelled out prayers for him, for my other brothers, for things that have weighed heavy on my heart this week but I've stuffed them aside in my mode to survive. I shouted out for redemption and restoration, for the ability to engage and to awaken my soul to war.

My voice shakes- but I yell out praise for the times he had clear scans. For the time we've had to breathe.

I won't be silent. Cannot be silent.

I will be the watchman for the restoration of my brothers. 

The enemy is defeated. 

When God Moves // Fear Cannot Hold You Back

The majority of the time, God surprises me. 

It's very rarely I ever sit back and say, "Oh yeah, totally knew He was going to do that." I wish I did. I wish my zealous soul wouldn't consult reality, or that fear would stalk behind faith. 

It didn't used to be that way. Betrayal, death, cancer, and the death of dreams tend to shake the child-like faith upside down and violently wring it out. 

They say time heals all things, but I know better- He does. 

My trip overseas last year left me changed in ways I never want to forget. I saw Him renew my hope, breathe into my soul that He still gives good things. And for this girl who's lived in the cold of winter too long, to see everything as blossoming and beautiful took my breath away. 

It still does. 

He answers prayers of improbability, and it still takes my breath away. 

--

I was convinced the door was closed. I prayed, I fasted, and after hearing nothing I just dusted off my hands and walked away. I wasn't going to keep pounding- no use breaking down a door if He wasn't going to be there. 

Turns out, it was open all along. Instead of pounding on a closed door, I just had to turn the knob. 

Within 24 hours everything just fell into place, in ways that left me utterly speechless. There was no way to hide when the Hand of God worked in front of you in such bold ways, laying it all in place. 

Yet, I wished I could hide. 

The thought of doing this utterly terrifies me. 

I find myself quaking, fearful, terrified of loneliness and sickness and being so removed from my life for such a long time. I'm terrified of the unknown. Terrified of what I've never done before.

Fear and faith cannot coexist. 

Of course, it's the Year of Emuna. The Year of Faith. 

Of course. 

To say yes to the Year of Emuna is to say yes to the Year of No Fear, too. Hand in hand. One cannot come without the other. 

This is the biggest leap of faith I've ever been asked to take. And to be honest, it feels like I'm just going to fall off the edge. I have no idea what to expect. I have nothing to compare what I'm about to do to. 

I just have to keep following His signs. His promises. His working and moving and His fingerprints in it all. 

I have no other choice. Wherever He leads, I have to follow. A covenant doesn't hold only for the sweet comfortable and familiar- it holds fast even if the fire grows hot and uncomfortable. Even if it's lonely or it's scary or it's difficult. Even if it requires unbelievable work and sweat and blood and tears. Even if it costs all I have and it takes every last drop. 

As Danessa Foo says, "Fear is placing your faith in What Ifs rather than God Is"

Never once have I ever walked alone. 

He's not going to leave me now. 

Craniotomy // Letting Go

I feel so far removed.

Since coming back to the States from my time overseas, I've been someone I have never been before.

I'm turning into an introvert.

I can't seem to get back to where my heart is connected to that around me. I know why- it's still on the mountain where I left it, where I felt it rip apart from my soul and stay in the soil when I had to leave. I couldn't tell you exactly where- I couldn't see through cascading tears, wondering when I'll ever be HOME again.

Without my heart, I feel numb. 

So when my brother has craniotomy surgery today, I'm sitting here waiting for news, calmly drinking coffee and watching craniotomy surgery videos, and I know this should not be normal. Why aren't I so involved, so wrapped up in the emotion and the fear and God only knows what the outcome will be? We thought he'd never make it through last year's surgery, when the clamped his lung shut for good and sewed patches on his heart. I vividly remember the fear then. I can still feel the utter exhaustion, mentally and physically, and my hands still shake whenever I recall the utter helplessness of the unknown. Everything about that day was a last- last kiss, last "I love  you", last walk as a family. We prepared, we prepped, we knew the stakes. We were ready. 

Today, I don't feel it. I haven't prepped, haven't gone through the risks. This isn't just a lung here. It's the drilling of the skull, the opening of a brain that pulses and one wrong move changes everything forever. Somehow, I can't even think beyond this surgery to imagine the possible outcomes.

Somehow, I have closure. 

I've done all I can. I've reached out, I've prayed, I've cried. I've been there- always been there- for my brother. I can do no more. 

We send one last email to each other across the miles, both of us awake in the night because still, you can't sleep on a night like that. We say "I love you" one more time. I tell how much I respect him, look up to him. As always, I treasure his words as only a younger sister can. 

But there is peace. 

I don't know how this surgery will go. I wish I could be more in touch, feel it in the depths of my soul. 

Yet there's freedom in the letting go. 

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

Life // Never the Same

The sun dawns brilliantly in ribbon strips of pink and blue. Orange rays hit the dark, cold pines, and the world begins to glow in flaming light. The ice slowly melts from inside the window. It's a normal winter morning. 

No, not normal. Every morning has become so precious. 

Because when you learn that cancer that has been staying in the chest possibly may now have moved to the brain? 

Your mornings are never the same after that. 

I thought this year would be a safe year, a year to heal and grow and blossom from all the pain that last year held. A time where we could laugh and make art and dance and never have the thought of cancer on our minds. On his mind. A year where grudges would be atoned for and everything would be back to the way it was before this battle ever came onto our radar years ago. 

Am I the only one who feels this way? The only one sounding the alarm?

Sometimes you just wish you could shake people, wake them up from a slumber so they can see life flying past. To stop holding grudges. To make amends. To love, because you may never have another day to love again.

Pass it by now, and you'll live with regret.

I just wish I knew my brother. I could count on one hand the memories I have of him from my childhood. And now that I'm older, our relationship has more to do with PET scans and chemo rounds and all the talking we ever do is done in a hospital room. I understand we're both busy. I totally get it. 

But I desperately want it differently. 

There's a large age gap between me and my older siblings, but I have treasured every word they have spoken. Some words, spoken carelessly, I shouldn't have hung on to- but what else is a girl to do? Aside from those few in childhood, I only have one other memory of my brother. He wrote me an e-mail for my 16th birthday and had my nephew sit on the counter with a Tupperware container on his head for a party hat, and sent me the picture. I believe that was around the time he was going through his first battle with AS. I treasured it- still do. I printed it off and pasted it in my journal, always to be remembered. 

This past summer, he told dad that any guy that came for my hand would have to be approved by him, too. I never felt so loved and protected by him before- and I cry every time I realize that he may never have a chance. That my husband may never know this brother of mine- to shake his hand, look him in the eye. He may never have the chance to draw from Ry's wealth of knowledge, to laugh with him, to know who he is. 

In the blink of an eye, life as you know it is suddenly drastically different. And your life? It will never, ever be the same. 

When Cancer Lurks Again

I sense that the nightmare is about to begin again. My brother's life flashes before my eyes. My past year plays over and over again in my memory- and I wonder if every year will feel this way. Will hold this pain. My body shuts down at the thought.

Three suspicious spots. 

I'm not ready for another battle. I'm not ready because I know this round will not grace us with hope. Options will soon be exhausted- and so will our souls.

Yehovah, fight this battle on our behalf- because we have no strength or wisdom to fight this on our own.

I cannot explain the feeling. How one moment you're laughing in the store with friends, and the phone vibrates. No matter how gently spoken, the words ruthlessly toss everything upside down and shake everything into insecurity. How your heart races- and won't stop racing- and your blood pressure throbs in your temples. How every muscle turns taught because it's entered into survival mode and you've been rendered mute because words won't come. You sit in silence- and silence mocks you.

You're filled with dread, because you are no stranger to this feeling You are filled with grief, because you are not ignorant of the grueling battle he will face. Your mind plays tricks on you, because any mention of the word "spot" thrusts your imagination into the scary places of the unknown.

So I pray, but I don't know what words to use. Abba, see our hearts and comfort our souls. We are weary and faint- renew your works as of old.

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. 

Finished

Cancer steals. Destroys. Devours. 

And I'm helpless to it all. 

I've told you about Kelly before. I met her high above the Texas skyline, and we caught the last glimpse of the sunset together. She was beautiful- wore a pretty hat to cover her head, hairless from what chemo stole from her. She smiled through the pain, her body attached by tubes and wires to a tree of life- or death?- with fluids and toxic materials pumping through her. Her quiet southern voice somehow illuminated the room, kept the shadows at bay. Sort of made the sun shine, even though it had slipped below the horizon. She told us of her two lovely girls back home, how God was still working, how she still prayed for the miracle. I gave her a hug before we left, told her we would be praying for her. Told her to keep trusting.

The elevator door closed, and it was the last I saw of her. Last time I ever will have seen her. Cancer claimed her body but five short months later. 

===

A father in our community discovered cancer was taking over his lungs soon after Ryan's tumors were removed from his. We've been praying, trusting, knowing that God is still working. I never knew this man well, but from the times I did spend with him I knew him to be a man of worship. Had a smile that somehow made you feel like you belonged. Quiet, but when he spoke they were words of life. Like David, he worshiped the Father will all of his might, with ever fiber of his being. 

Today I got the phone call everyone dreads, the one you pray against. The one you hope you never have to answer. The phone call that, as a cancer family, you pray you never have to make. 

It'll only be a few hours now. 

I hang up. Dad calls- I answer, and I weep. I grieve. I cry for the children, whose father is their world. I cry for the wife, so strong yet how can frail shoulders hold up the load of everything and watch as the love of her life suffers? I cry for the friends, the extended family, the community who is loosing a mighty warrior of Elohim. 

My soul longs to pour forth prayers but no sound comes from my throat. Dad prays for me instead. 

And Heaven weeps. 

The rain pours from the skies as my tears fall, as our prayers rise upward. Not long after, another phone call follows. 

It is finished. No more pain except the pain that is in our hearts, no more sorrow except for the tears we weep. No more questions, except for the ones we may shout in our frustration and grief. 

Finished. 
__

{please, be praying for this family and our community tonight and in the days/weeks/months to follow. thank you, from the bottom of our hurting hearts.}

Hey Girl

Hey Girl. 

Did the words hurt you? I know the feeling. They hurt me, too.  They say sticks and stones break bones and words will never hurt- but they don't just hurt. They crush. Leave you feeling worthless. 

Oh, how I know. Girl, you're not alone. 

They say the truth hurts, but I think it hurts worse when the truth isn't known. Lies are spewed. Your lungs scream for the freeing air of justice. Your back is against the wall and their hands are raised with stones, poised to strike. You never thought they'd do this, did you? Yeah, me neither. Didn't think it would come to this. Forgot that there's wolves in sheep's clothing and that there's tares among the wheat. 

I'm standing here, and I want to scream for justice at the top of my lungs. To silence the accusations. To set free the truth that's captive. To make known the innocent. You've been there, too, yes? You know the feeling. The burning flame. I can sense your heart is beating it, too. 

But take a deep breath. It's all you really can do when your hands are tied behind your back with pointed last words. Breathe with me, please? Lean your head closer to mine so you can hear my whisper. I've got my eyes closed, head tilted to heaven. Girl, this is going to shake your world...listen carefully now: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Soak it in- take your time. It took me a while, too. Do you see the injustice of thorns and spikes piercing the Body of the Son of God? Do you hear the curses, the lies, the accusations, the anger, the falsehoods that are slandering the character of the innocent and sinless Messiah? And after they flog Him and whip Him and mock Him and tear Him and diminish Him to nothing but a sagging package of bones struggling to make that walk with a stake on His back....He begs the Father to forgive them. 

But it's more than that, Girl. It's more. And this may shake your world even more: He opened not His mouth. 

It's called forgiveness. Compassion. Love. Grace. He extends it all to those who persecuted Him. All those who laughed in His face. Slapped His Face. Tore His Face. 

Soak that in, Girl. Try to process it all in. I'm still trying to fully comprehend it, too. When they're spitting their venom at us, and every fiber in our body demands retaliation...He didn't. Therefore, should we? Let them spew away, Girl. It's hard. It's painful. It's hurtful. But don't hold it in. Count yourself worthy- and know that He knows exactly how you're feeling. He's going to bless you. That's a promise. Count on it, Girl- He's going to get you through this with a spiritual strength that cannot be bent, with a testimony that will touch others, and with a new dependance and reliance on Him. He's going to make beauty from the ashes. 

Say it with me, Girl: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Say it out loud. Claim it while they continue to shoot their arrows at you. Those arrows don't pierce as deep now, do they? Compassion is seeping into your sight. You see how they don't understand His grace and forgiveness towards them. You want to reach out your hand in love to them, to try to break the callous hearts, to help them see all that they're missing. You're weeping for them. It's a different ache you're feeling now. 

Forgive them. 

The shackles fall from your wrists with those words. The arrows won't let up, no- but the prison door will swing open.

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?) 

Hope // Flood Me

"We have this HOPE as an ANCHOR for the SOUL, firm and secure." 

-Hebrews 6:19a- 

It's underlined in purple pen, the silhouette of an anchor penciled next to it. The pages worn, a spot in Hebrews that always falls open without much prompting. A secure hope. A promise of His that binds my soul, like a grappling hook from my heart to His- a way to bring down these promises, a source of constant hope. 

But sometimes? The storm blows, and the anchor starts to tug away from the cleft in the rocky seabed- and my heart bobs at the top, like a buoy tossed helplessly from the controlling wind. 

Hope. 

How can you live without it? What is there to look forward to without it? Why am I trying to live without it?

Hope. 

Ironic that such hope comes from links of metal, a solid weight, something that drags. We picture such things as bondage, as slavery, as children destitute to hopelessness. But these chains? They're a lifeline. Something sure in this storm, something we all must grasp until our knuckles turn white like it's the only thing left. 

Hope. 

When the cancer consumes and we're sitting here not knowing what to do next, when we're left alone and those you thought would stick around have abandoned you, when you've been tossed back and forth by these waves for weeks and months and years, when you're in the midst of all this- it's hard to see a break in the clouds, a glimmer of sunlight...a ray of hope. 

Hope. 

This hope, it's prayer. It's the certainty that Yeshua has entered into the Inner Sanctuary, petitioning on our behalf. It's praying and tossing this anchor into the heavens, praying His kingdom down. 

Hope. 

I struggle with it. The winds of fear blow me until my vision is blurred and my head is swimming. But I must have hope. Hope that the Son will come. He will shine from the Sanctuary, that the Father's mercy is not exhausted- His Hand is not too short to save me. And sometimes- no, all of the times- He's got us in the deep end for our good. To teach us, to grow us, to stretch us. 

Hope. God, flood me to overflowing. 

(hey you- keep clutching the anchor. i know it's tough. i know it's hard. but cling to Him 'cause He's not going anywhere. firm and secure, girl- those are His words to your storm-battered heart)

Please do // Please don't // How to best help cancer families

Please do pray fervently  //  Honestly, this is the most important thing you can do for cancer families. Don't just tell us that you're praying- do it. Take even just ten minutes out of your day for undivided prayer and wrestle in prayer for us. Beg the Father to give us the strength, faith, trust, and courage to go through what we're going through every single day. Ask Him to pour out His mercies on us. Yes, do pray for the miracle- but also pray that we are humble enough to accept His will as good. Pray for our doctors to have wisdom. Pray for us to have wisdom. Pray for you to have wisdom on how to best be an encouragement to us. Ask the Father to reveal to you what you should do and what you should say- and then do it. 

Please don't say these things  //  Don't say you understand what we're going through because your sister-in-law's father's cousin twice removed has a co-worker who had cancer five years ago. It's so not the same as having a brother, a son, a parent, or even a grandparent or other close family members go through cancer.   Don't say that it'll all work out for the good and not to worry about it when we're sitting in the surgery room. We're human. We get scared- it's our loved one under the surgeon's knife and against grim statistics. Don't say that there's always hope when we've just gotten the news that the cancer has taken over the body. We need to face realities, not fantasies. Don't say that our medical choices are wrong. If we choose to do chemo or choose to do natural remedies, it's because that's what we've prayed about and researched about and we don't need to be condemned for it. Words have much power, to hurt and anger others or to give them comfort and encouragement. If you are at a loss for words, tell us "I have no words to say." Sometimes the most comforting thing is hearing you say "I don't know what you're going through- but if there is anything I can do for you, I'm willing to do it." 

Please do respect our emotions  //  Cancer isn't just physically exhausting- it's mentally and emotionally exhausting. If we look tired, then know that now is not the time for a long chat over tea about the latest treatment plan that has been chosen. Know when to give us space, and when we need to be alone with our loved ones who are battling this disease. Don't be offended at this- we want to spend time with you, too, but know when it's time to say goodbye for now. 

Please don't be a prophet  //  We don't know the mind of God. We don't know what His plan is. So don't tell us, "I am already praising God for entire healing." Don't say, "I have the faith that God is going to give you back your loved one completely cancer free." Let's face it- most of these cancer journeys do not lead to complete healings and normal lives. Please be sensitive to that. This is a life and death journey. We cannot demand anything of God. It's hurtful and it can shake our faith when you say things that God has not said. 

Please do reach out  //  Please do drop us a note, comment, e-mail, text, letter, package, phone call, (you name it!), especially if you haven't heard from us in a while or if you know that we're going through another rough spot. We treasure these forms of your support. If the Father has laid something specific on your heart to do, please do it. It's so comforting to know that you're there, that you're thinking of us.  If you aren't sure of how to help, don't be afraid to ask us "What can I do to help you?". Also, take initiative. We can get overwhelmed with so much going on that we can't think of what we really need help with. Be specific. Ask if you can bring us a meal, or if you can watch the kids for a doctor's appointment. 

Please don't shy away  //  Don't be afraid or uncomfortable or overwhelmed or hide in the corner because you don't want to face the problem or don't know what to do or say. We need you. We can feel alone, and we need encouragement. We need your love. We need your support. Really and truly, the best form of comfort is just being there- take the time to sit with us. Don't think that you have to keep a conversation going the whole time. There doesn't need to be a word spoken. Just be there. Be available to be a shoulder that we can cry on, a hug that warms our heart, or even someone who will pray with us when we have no more words of our own.