These Days


road-sun-rays-pathI don’t have much to say tonight. Or maybe I have everything to say. The fact is I’m not completely exhausted. In fact I haven’t been completely exhausted for most of the week. This is new. Sometimes it’s hard to say if the exhaustion caused the overwhelmed or visa versa. I tend to think the latter. I’ve carried stones in my chest for so long.

I find myself thanking God this week. There are so many moments- not big moments, little moments! Infinitesimally small moments.; in fact some have been little more than a thought. And that’s the point.

My husband has to wear glasses. He hates it and when he puts them on he often jests “You people! You see like this all the time?!” I’ve lived with depression since I was a child. I mean, I think my time spent out from under that dark cloud over the last decade could likely be measured in months not years. The anxiety, the chronic over-analyzing, the feeling of constantly failing, trying harder, failing worse, and being so stinking tired all the time! I had just gotten used to it. Despair became my normal. I had given up on having a rational train of thought.

But God just wouldn’t let me accept it. Not in the way I was… which in a weird way was actually to deny it. He just kept at me until I was stuck in a dark corner and had to turn around and face it. And then!… then He started healing me! I want to say “You people! You’ve been able to think like this the whole time?!”

This week I can hear the poetry going through my mind as I watch the children make their way down the crushed limestone trail. I am present. I can hear my self-talk going somewhere it should not, or perhaps more accurately, starting from somewhere it should not. Some place other than His great love for me. I can hear myself talking through the scenarios. Slowing down enough to not react when a chaos bomb blows.

These things are gifts! Heavenly gifts and it’s as real for me as if I was being cured of cancer. Its so small. Each event a pebble in the tray until my new patterns outweigh the old one’s. Until normal is redefined for me. “Rome wasn’t conquered in a day…” (I think that’s the quote) and neither are our demons. There have certainly been supernatural moments in these last few months but God did not come and wave some magic wand. I wanted Him to but He knew that’s not how we are made. The healing has to go on layer by layer. It’s got to build and sit. Like varnishing old wood. The coat has to completely dry.

But eventually that thing will shine. And I am starting to feel the glow of a different life. The internal slowly radiating its way into the external. It’s not over. I still get into some sticky moments and there is a lot of untangling that has to happen. But each day is a reason to trust Him more. Each day I find that He is more faithful then I could have imagined. More sufficient then I could have dreamed. He’s got me.

We’re going to keep walking this path together and I am so grateful for that.


My Imperfect Heart


So… this is an important picture. It’s not going to win any awards. No doubt the photo could use some improvement as well. But still, it’s an important picture and I’d like to share why.

First of all:

I made it. This is the work of my own hands. This is my time and my energy and my worship of rest on a page. I undertook it as a representation of my Father restoring my own heart.


My parents gave me this book and the markers. Some weeks ago I made my third visit to the psychiatric unit of the local hospital. Days are long and sterile there (even if you need the solitude and encounter Jesus while there). I had asked them to bring me a book and some markers to help break up the days. I was only a little surprised when they showed up with the nicest set they could find. A beautiful, hard-cased collection of super-fine tipped markers and a lovely book. I couldn’t help but note the price-tag on the back and gulp a little bit. Not only were they coming everyday, faithfully to visit, but the love was lavish. And it reminded me… God’s love is so lavish. When we are broken. When we cry out to Him, He is not waiting with stingy fist clenched tight. He has our best in mind. He gives us Himself. He gives fully. He gives freely. He gives joyfully. That’s how they gave and every time I use the markers I’m reminded of His tender love for me. Especially when I’m at my weakest.


That ugly dark leaf. So, I’m learning a lot of new skills right now. Thirty-five years is a long time to “return to (your) vomit”. You know… those old thought patterns that keep you exactly where you’ve been. Well one of mine has to do with perfectionism. With everything looking as it should – being as it should. Well, I started this particular picture in pointillism because I found that the markers weren’t well suited for coloring. However, I couldn’t pull myself away from the idea of a bold leaf to contrast the pink flower. So, I tried it…. and it looked terrible (Sub-note: Another life lesson; use things for what they’re best for. Don’t try to make it something its not).

Crap! Now I just ruined my whole stupid picture. This was supposed to be a representation of my heart and I just messed it up! 

Then I could feel His Spirit speaking to my heart. “Yes, it is your heart… and you can change. You can do it differently. It doesn’t have to look perfect to be perfect. It can be a perfect reminder of what am doing in you. A new thing!” The nagging O.C.D. I usually experience dissipated with His words. I could see the beauty in it. The value of watching myself change, and keeping it as a reminder to not go back to the old way of doing things.

Father, for anyone today… anyone who needs your touch. Anyone who needs courage to change. I pray they would let you in. They would feel your love and your acceptance of them where they are. And they would see your fantastic ability to work in their heart, mind, life – to make something beautiful of all our scribbles. You are so good. Thank you for the access you have given us through Jesus. You have been so faithful to me. Please let each person here, experience your gentle restoring kindness today. To know You always. To see you as You are. Thank you. Thank you for the small slow way, dot on dot, you’re filling in my heart. And for the way that you fill in theirs. Little by little. Faithfully, tenderly, working to make us new in You! Help me, help anyone else who wants to, surrender to your Loving Hands. To experience that newness. In the precious name of the Lamb. Amen.

The Champion of a Cause


I may come to regret it later. I may have to go back and delete this but I think I’m going to try to blog a lot right now. I might change my mind tomorrow and this disclaimer will be obsolete. I’m not totally sure why I feel the compulsion to put it all out here but I’m just going to go with it and ya’ll can watch me fail publicly if that’s what happens.

I have come to believe that one of the things that killed my friend was that she was the champion of too many causes. Too many other things got married into the one cause we were all drawn to her for- the crazy, lavish, sufficient, radical love of God. How many of us drug ourselves up her front steps, or opened our front door to find here standing there in crazy bright colors, usually with some gift in her hand, and tenderness in her brown eyes and it didn’t matter what crazy thing we spewed out into her lap she just brought us back to the loving sufficiency of God. And we were comforted.

How wrong then? How wrong is it that after talking so many of us down off the edge, after visiting us in the psychiatric unit, after completely diffusing the fear that we were too far gone with her radical acceptance and undaunted gaze she quietly slipped off, and succumbed to lies. She silently imploded and took her life and left us.

And in so doing she made herself the champion of one last cause.

I imagine for some time depression (mental illness, spiritual warfare, anything else it might be dubbed as depending on what circles you run in) will be a running theme here. I’m couldn’t write this blog honestly and not talk about it. And while her death likely thrust many of us into a jarring examination of “how could this happen” this will not ultimately be the cause I choose to champion.

My purpose in life isn’t to fight depression. It isn’t to deliver people from it’s grasp. It’s not to expose its intricacies and plunge it’s depths. It’s not to debate the appropriate method of treating it or rally everyone to the cause of awareness. I’m going to talk about depression because it is the battlefield on which I intend to see my champion, Jesus Christ, most glorious in victory. I am going to talk about it because I intend to feel the Love of my Heavenly Father most acutely in this place of deepest pain and experience His Holy Spirit most fully in my greatest weakness. Some of you will relate to that battlefield. Some of you have a very different place that Jesus will have to prove your Champion.

But through all of this I intend, ultimately, to be a champion of one cause… one message.

God is love. Jesus is glorious. His Spirit is present always and available to anyone who wants it and that is enough for us. No matter what. His love is enough for us. It can fill any need. Heal any wound. Calm any fear. Steady any storm. It can feed you when you are hungry and quench your ceaseless thirst. He accepts us, radically, fully, purely. He cleanses us completely. He considers us intently. It’s okay. He is for you. The world is dark and twisted. He his not. He can handle your rage and your rebellion. He is bigger than it all and so very patient.

I wish that the truth of this statement meant that I didn’t have an uphill battle to fight. I wish it meant that I was going to feel better everyday for the rest of my life. I wish I wouldn’t ever lose sight of this truth. But I will and it will hurt. Manna may be the divine provision of God but you have to gather everyday. You can’t grab it once. You have to keep going out and admitting your hunger and partaking in His goodness. I fear the entrance to our tent is sometimes barred with many enemies who oppose and distract us from gathering the good manna of His love each day. But he promised that ultimately NOTHING can separate us from his love. This something I have not yet mastered the application of. Too many days I feel separated from His love despite the fact that He tells me it’s not true.

Still, I believe it is true. He loves me and that is enough. No matter what.


p.s. I’m not going to edit these very much so please bear… bare… (hmmm?…) with my egregious typos. I’ll send my editor (husband) in to fix them later. 


A War

black-and-white-person-woman-girlMy friend died in a war.

I don’t know how to put it all down here. In fact, I have no intention of putting it all down here. But somehow I felt the need to put some verbage out there. Something… why? I’m not really writing about her. I’m writing about myself. Despite my refusal at so many twists and turns I have to acknowlege that somehow her story is inexstricably linked to mine. More like tangled or fused to mine.

Her war is now my war.

At the end of the day it was the lies that killed her. There were factors for her. There are factors for me. Biological factors. Social factors. Spiritual factors. But those aren’t what kill you. They are just places for the lies to get in.

I often think I would have been a woman who snuck out onto the battle field with the men. I would have charged. But this is not a war where the lines are neatly drawn. Where the sides are neatly labled and the banners flying high. It’s more like Vietnam. It’s hard to tell friend from enemy. I’m not talking about people. I’m talking about thoughts. It’s really hard to tell which thoughts will protect you and which one’s will stab you in the back the first chance they get.

Sometimes I think I’ve had so much time learning from her death that I’ve still never grieved it. Three years to the day. A blink and an eternity. But I’m still sifting through the ashes. The fallout.

I don’t believe that its a crap shoot. Sometime when we talk about depression as a disease it makes it sound like it’s cancer. Maybe you’ll get better. Maybe you won’t. I believe depression is a real thing. A real factor. Even a physical factor but I don’t believe that we’re left to chance. Like I’m left to chance. Maybe I’ll make it. Maybe I won’t. No that’s not a complete picture of what’s going on here.

The fact is there’s a war in my head. It’s the most complicated, icky, boggy mess I’ve ever encountered. At time I struggle to recognize friend from enemy. It’s one of the reasons I’ve determined to keep people around me and trust them when I just want to pull back and stick to what I can see. It’s hard to admit that sometimes my perception is terribly off. And it’s hard to trust others. But I don’t think I’ll ever win this war if I fight alone.

I don’t know where you are today. This is a selfish blog I know it. I didn’t write it to invoke sympathetic responses or to declare some holy resolution I’ve attained (But love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken halleluiah.) The resolution I feel is still a very fragile seed. I’m writing because I hope someone who doesn’t know me will read this. Someone who isn’t part of my life and trying to read through the lines to know what’s “actually” going on with me. Someone who is struggling with severe depression and despair… and I am screaming at the top of my lungs. REACH OUT!!!!!! Get other people in your head. Get them out on the battle field. Confess every morbid awful fear and thought you have. Let them sit beside you and sift it. Get a counsellor, get a pastor, get 70 year old person whose been through some stuff and still stayed soft and talk to them and listen. Oh, and get a doctor. A really good doctor. Get my doctor. She’s amazing.

The hardest thing is to trust someone else. Not being able to trust your own thoughts is perhaps the most scary and vulnerable place I’ve ever been and admitting that I’m there (even too myself) feels like dying. It feels like I can never come back from that reality. That if I can’t trust my thoughts now I’ll never be able to trust them and then I’ll never be at peace within myself. That can’t be true! We’re not at peace within ourselves now! We’re at war and if we are alone we are losing! Don’t fight alone.

Find people. Find God. Adopt a pet! Seriously, do anything other than nothing. The lies will kill you.

No more casualties of war.

A Picture’s Worth….


Photographer: Karolina Grabowska.STAFFAGE

My life is crazy. Lately I’ve tried to slow down and capture it a little bit. Not just the shots that look good because that’s sort of like false advertising (no Pinterest perfect here my friends). Also, I’m a terrible photographer so not going for the “good shots” took a lot of pressure off. In the future I may add or modify it to keep telling the story. Some of it’s beautiful. Some of it’s ordinary. Some of it’s hilarious. It’s all life.

*If you actually click on the pictures in the album there are small descriptions at the bottom that (in my personal opinion) make the experience a little richer.

Life in Pictures

Much “To-do” About Nothing

Writing a bukket list“Okay, that is it! I have done nothing but work my hind-parts off all morning so I sat down to check off the items I’ve finished on today’s to-do list. Do you know how many of those items I had accomplished in seven hours (Yes by noon-thirty I’ve already put in almost seven hours #momlife)?…”


So I’ve made a decision. I am no longer using a to-do list unless it includes a standard itemization of all the things I already do. For instance…

  • Wiped someone’s bottom
  • Fed people
  • Combed Hair
  • Trimmed Nail
  • Answered ten questions
  • Answered ten more questions
  • Answered ten questions at the same time
  • Swept the floor
  • Quoted scripture
  • Corrected errant thinking
  • Had positive conflict
  • Encouraged someone
  • Repeated the same sentence consecutively three times in a row
  • Divvied out chores
  • Still answering questions
  • Started a load of laundry
  • Avoid foot-death by picking up a stray Lego
  • Changed a diaper
  • Immediately changed another diaper because the baby pooped in the clean one
  • Bandaged or otherwise soothed an injury
  • Wiped something down because it was so scary it could no longer be ignored
  • Devised a scheme to entertain a small child
  • Pondered the meaning of life
  • Took time to apologize for a mistake I made
  • Picked up and held the aforementioned small child because my scheme was only moderately entertaining
  • Settled a dispute with grace and wisdom
  • Encouraged my child in their identity
  • Got interrupted
  • Stopped to teach my child how to properly interrupt and made them try again
  • Lost my phone
  • Found my phone
  • Told my children to stay off my phone
  • Hugged someone
  • Kept the toddler from doing major damage to their body and/or our property
  • Put on music to clean to
  • Shut off music because someone was calling
  • Feigned interest in a joke that stopped being funny when I was eight
  • Exhibited patience in the face of nearly insurmountable frustration
  • Kept everyone alive and unabducted (not a word I know)
  • Prayed


Until the to-do list starts with at least these items… it doesn’t count anymore. Nope. INVALID! This is like the base list of any to-do for me. And now I’m really happy because I’ve got no less then thirty check marks on my to-do list today and that makes me A BOSS!

I’m Killing It!

Father, give anyone reading this the perspective to see the big picture and not just the narrow slice we like to focus on. Help them to know you and experience you in Spirit and in Truth today. Help us remember that there’s so much more going on then we can ever put on a list and to be humble and present enough to embrace that. Thank you Father, for your ridiculous mercy and grace through Jesus Christ. I surrender to you today. Be glorified in my broken life. Amen.

***Photographer: Glenn Carstens-Peters via


The Greatest Mother I Ever Knew


I wonder if she knew when she died what truly made her a great mother. Her name was tied to a lot of noble causes; large families, homeschooling, adoption but none of these were why, as a young mother, I hung on every word she said. See, she had five children before I had one (that nearly doubled to nine a short time later). But it wasn’t just her experience or even that unparalleled behavior of her children that really got me. I believe what made her the greatest mother I had ever met was that she saw her children.

Not only that, but she saw them in light of God.

She had a radar for each child no matter how different one was from the next. She could see their identity, she could see their pain and she would constantly cut right through the behavior to the heart. The more a child would act out in an area the more assertive she was that they were created for the exact opposite. I watched her do this over, and over, and over again.

Adoption sharpened her skills. Adopted children come with a special set of challenges that “begotten” children do not. This reality propelled her deeper into the Gospel and into the character of God. I watched her unravel the strangest behaviors with sometimes nothing more than eye contact. The truth was she threw herself into being a mom. She fought for her children. Fought to keep herself out of the turbulent surface waters and get to those deeper, stronger undercurrents. She was relentless and unabashed in her confidence that love would always have the final word and that God was bigger. She also refused to conform to other’s idea of normal when she knew it wasn’t in her child’s best interest. She was brave.

I’ve thought of her a lot this week. I am so grateful I had her influence early on in my journey as a mother. I dearly miss her example which taught me that this mom thing is not about all the stuff we make it about. Maybe that is why today was not a typical Mother’s Day for me. I did a lot of stuff you’re not supposed to do like cooking, cleaning, etc. I did it because I understood the needs of my family and because it brought me joy. It was a slight shift in my normal attitude which could largely be viewed as “I should get the day off”. But that seemed to be missing the point. Today isn’t a day to take a day off. You should do that when your stressed, tired or just want to.

Today was a day to celebrate what it is to be a mother.

So after I did what was needed I took one on one time with each of my children (I’m up to five now, like she was when I met her). I took time to look in their eyes and embrace their uniqueness. I did something different with each and received something different from each. I reminded myself that mothering isn’t so much a sacrifice as it is an investment and that a good ninety percent of what we associate with being a mother isn’t being a mother at all. Because you can hire maids, cooks, chauffeurs, nurses, teachers; but you can’t hire someone to look into the God-given soul of a little person and lay down their life to defend His purposes for them.

That takes a Mother.