The Best of Grace

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes discipline. 

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

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

I'll take grace then. 

But not until I've done my best. 

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

Free and Full // Finding Intentional Moments

Math was never my subject.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need to make my moments intentional.

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

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

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

She took hold of her moments.

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

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

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

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

I take time to breathe. 

It's space my soul needs. 

It's exhaling into the grace of God.

Top Ten Unconventional Overseas Packing Tips // Find Me Over Here

That You've Never Thought of Before 

...but you'll thank me later... 

{{ find my guest post over at Alisha In Progress today }}

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. 

Back to Blogging // The Groove of Thriving

It's been a while.

When you're moving, planning a bridal shower, helping with a wedding, hosting a new houseguest with an endless list of food allergies, having a garage sale, working every odd day and hour possible, and packing up what my life has always been...all within 3 months?

Blogging gets pushed to the back burner.

Truly, there have been so many thoughts and ideas running through my mind. So many words fighting to be freed, and yet whenever I sit down before that stark white screen of a new post, my fingers freeze and somehow my heart can't make the connection to my brain. It's the feeling of being trapped within my own soul, unable to soar because you're chained by...yourself, unknowing how to set your own words free. 

But no more. 

There's only so many well-meaning hints from your grandmother you can take before you start stumbling through typing again. When your Bestie starts outdoing you in posting, you know it's high time you start kicking into gear and just. start. writing. Scattered, unedited, absolutely unpolished, but get the words flowing. 

Eventually, my fingers will remember. Eventually, the words will become fluid again. 

I decided I'd take my friend Amelia's advice- sometimes you just need to get a change of scenery, a place that fosters creativity and serenity and just start. 

I find myself in a coffee shop after work, and I take a deep breath in. The nutty aroma of fresh-ground beans calm me, the deep rich leather chairs and dark rough wood floors speak of stories and stains, people who have come and gone. I find myself the only chair available- the one where I can't sit back and still have my feet touch the floor- squirming slightly self-conscious because I feel the eyes of others on me. But I begin to type...and the voices fade, the clanging of metal measuring cups dim, the footsteps and music disappear. 

I will find my groove again. 

And yet, it's in the pause that I find the inspiration. As Amelia shared from her heart, I feel it resonate with mine- sometimes you just have to stop, take a pause, soak it all in. 

The creative mind can't always be overstimulated. As an artist, I crave the colors, the ideas, the stories and the character. I can't help but search for the beauty in the broken like a wild treasure hunt, splashing paint and words and folds of fabric. 

Sometimes, it's the over-stimulation that stops an artist from continuing on. An artist needs white-space, too. A place of calm, no chaos, a place of peace where one can digest all the explosions of brilliant ideas. 

This unannounced blogging break I took, it's been my white-space. 

It's from this break that I'm learning to totter across a delicate balance of stop-and-go. Between soaking up these last few weeks before my brother's married, and yet exploring this new life and carving out community in a city so different from my hometown. Between taking the time each night to journal again (so many thanks, Tia, for the reminder and push I needed) and dabble with my watercolors, and yet still be intentional with my time to be there for friends and family in special ways. 

It's in the balance that I'm feeling the thrive again. Feeling alive again. 

I'm not just back to blogging, I'm back to living life in extravagant and wildly free worship in every little detail. I'm back to adventuring out of my comfort zone and grabbing the moments of creative grace that I can spill into the lives of those around me. 

Here's to a fresh start of blogging...and a fresh start of life. 

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

Unplug // The Technology Addiction

Addiction happens slowly. 

Well, maybe not-so-slowly. We're addicted to instant, quick, immediate. Fast food, drive thru, high speed, all the information we ever want always at our fingertips. 

So when my phone decided to check out of my agenda, I was caught off guard...and didn't expect it. 

I wouldn't call myself addicted to technology. Sure, my phone kills time while standing in Walmart's mile-long line, but I'm not always on it. I live my normal life and don't let technology hinder me. 

What I didn't realize was that it was hindering me. 

In today's society, it makes it nearly impossible to unplug. 

My phone blacked out and all of the sudden I realized I had no idea what the time was or what the date was. I couldn't look up a word from language class, I couldn't check my email, I couldn't answer a text. No one could get ahold of me, and I couldn't get ahold of them unless I borrowed someone else's phone. I couldn't check my lists or take a picture. I couldn't use a coupon or locate the nearest grocery store in a different city. 

It was frustrating. 

But it was freeing. 

The guy at the store told me there was nothing he could do but give me a new phone. All my data, all my notes, all my contacts...just gone like that. 

Yes, mom, you were right again- always store things on paper. No contacts because I don't have a paper address book. No passwords because my phone remembers. No notes because they're all in one neat little app that doesn't clutter up my desk. 

Technology isn't always better. 

Gratefully- oh thank you Lord!- I had backed my phone up about a month ago, so I was able to recover everything except for what I had this past month. No hassle with contacts or trying to remember what important notes I had logged. But it made me think- 

I need to unplug more. 

I don't need to answer every text. I don't have to instantly reply to emails. I'm sorry, friends, if I don't comment on every picture you share. It's not you, truly it's not- but I'm learning that if I'm driven to be intentional with a Kingdom-vision life, nothing can be wasted. Words, time, energy. It all needs to have purpose, a focus, an aim. 

Life can be spent trying to be in the loop on everyone else's life, but really you're just missing the loop of your own. 

Now, I don't have the wifi automatically set to connect on my phone. I don't need to know my emails the instant they come in. I deleted apps that really just clutter and don't benefit. I'm trying to be intentional with not having my phone constantly on me or within reach. 

I want to unplug, so I can truly plug in to my life. I want to use my real camera and take lots of paper notes. I want to send pretty mail to others' mailboxes and dream up beautiful ideas sans Pinterest. I want to meet for coffee instead of just a quick text. 

No, in this day you can't be technology-free, but it can be used less if you're intentional. I'm not throwing everything out the window. I still use technology, and often- but I cannot become addicted. 

Which means- note to self- I really should go by myself a wrist watch and a calendar.