"this is a call to all the dead and disappointed"

"your mercy's rising like the sun on the horizon, and we're coming home."

breathe it in, and come alive.
ejk

i should have gotten a philosophy degree

"Will I always be Judah?"

"Why do bad guys do bad things?"

"Do zombies tickle you?"

"What if I be a pigeon?"

"Is a bee always a bee?"

"What happens if I ride on that train. Hey! What happens if I be applesauce?"

"Are God and Jesus best fwiends?"

"When can I be a weal (real) superhero?"

"What happens if I be a church?"

"Will Selah always be Selah?"

"What happens if I be a wheel? And then what would I say?"

"How does the movie-theater-man sleep?"

glory

Tonight we trample down high grass overgrown, escaping to a field.

The evening sky sags heavy with purple, all trimmed out in gold, and we race for a better view.

I remind them again what the Bible says, about the heavens declaring the glory of God.

Belle asks what is glory, and I look to her daddy to answer such a weighty question.

Who can define glory; how can we wrap our minds around it?

I step into golden spotlight; my heart swells, and I laugh with joy at the sight blinding.

I have learned from my Selah.

I ask belle if she can feel it, God's love right in this moment of beauty.

She feels no hugs or kisses concrete and nods confused.

Till her daddy bends down and plants love right on her head.

"I feel that," she smiles.

"Well, that's God's love for you right there. Who do you think puts the love in daddy's heart for you?"

Judah, his warrior heart outdone by the lover within,

scurries about oblivious to all he's missing,

dipping sun glittering all she touches.

We are in a field full of life, every weed a flower for his mama.

Historically (in the car, on a walk, outside a business) with every flower we pass he speaks up

"I wish I could pick those dandelions for mama."

Tonight, he is overwhelmed by sheer volume, and picks feverishly, delivering blossom by blossom.

Clover and queen anne's lace grace my fingertips, never more beautiful.

My hands are heavy with purple, my heart all trimmed out in gold.

And I understand glory.

ejk

you have my heart, to infinity and beyond

you know there's a card for that

I told you how I teared up in the card aisle, not just once, and not over sentiment. No, in frustration my soul ached and my heart beat heavy lifting and returning each card to its alloted space. Our anniversary came and went and though my hand held no card for you, there is so much I wanted to say. You laughed at me, still searching for the perfect card days past our cherished date. Defeated time and again, I have come to the conclusion that Hallmark is lame-o, and that there isn't a card out there worthy of you.

What card can explain the way you come to me, so proud and so broken up over the wedding song you just wrote our 4 month old. And as you pick and it pours out, the way we get all messy and unglued, your voice breaking "Unchain my heart and take his hand, o-o-o I'm a gonna cry." We create side by side, the rest of the night meandering in and out of tears as you wittle it down to just right. Our hearts go somewhere together, a place only we two can understand, our experiences paint the landscape, and He meets us there, complete.

What card can describe your faithful heart, the nights bowed in humility, the ugly confessed and the clothing with righteousness. Your steadfast love, even in my dark places - the self absorbed and the sickness - you followed me there, refused to let me die, breathing hope into my lungs. He taught you how to fight; you showed me I was worth the pain. We promised each other grace, 7 years ago, and how we did not understand it that day. Even now, we are learning it, becoming it.

And surely no card can tell of your courageous soul, your bravery. How you lead our family in chasing the Spirit. Your abandon, your resolve. How you lay down dreams and take up your cross, and you count it all joy.

And the way you make us laugh. I have never met a man so wild, so pure. You play like a child, and we can't resist your beckoning toward joy. Your children think you a King, and rightly so. But can I let you in on a little secret? Even as she chides you over the obscene amount of ice cream you consume and begs you to be serious for a second and pay her attention, your wife knows her children are right.

Our David. He has called you beloved and He has called you son, and He has ushered you in to His court, crowned you with His name and given you this tiny little kingdom called 'our home'. And even now enlarging your influence, sending you out to bring back wayward sons and daughters. And I see His hand upon you, and I need you to know

I would follow you anywhere.

This next year of our journey, I am asking God for so much. I know it won't be easy, I know it will cost us much. But our Jesus, His glory is worth it. And you, you are ready. I have watched God lovingly call you out, prune you back so far and so deep I wondered if you'd ever recover. But He cuts with wisdom and love, and your branch abiding is now strong and healthy, bearing good fruit, to the glory of God.

Next year I'm going to start my card hunt earlier. Or maybe, like you, I'll look for one with a spoon and a fork and an off color joke to set the mood so wrong its right. I wouldn't have it any other way.
(secret work)
ej

on squirrels and selah

Ever seen a grown woman chased by a baby squirrel?  True story. I first spied this little guy approaching my 20 week old baby through the lens of my camera.

 I thought to myself that surely he would scare off. But the closer he came, the faster he charged. Right at Selah. I dropped my camera and swooped her up, saving her from his sharp little claws. Relentless, he turned, looked at me, and ran at my bare feet. Aron was across the park pushing the big kids on the swings. I ran and screamed and begged for him to save me, that crazy squirrel chasing me all the way to my husband, doubled over helpless in laughter at the sight.

Aron's a nature boy; I'm just a chicken. When we were 16 he showed up at my house with two baby chipmunks he rescued from the middle of the road. After a few days of bottle feeding them, I think they may have ended up at his sister's house...but that's another story.

We lay down Selah and released the little guy to run back to his mama, wherever she may be. But baby squirrel was tenacious in his pursuit of our Cocoa. I thought the thing must be rabid; turns out he was just ravenous.

Belle and Judah ran around, ensuring the squirrel chased them, leading it away from Selah and I. Aron ran to the Mounty for Judah's half eaten peanut butter sandwich.

The little buddy was half starved. Aron thinks he must have fallen out of his nest, small as he was. 

He ate his tummy full and bulging, and like my own tiny baby, curled up and went to sleep.

 "He'll get eaten tonight," Aron warned, "if we don't find a safe place for him. A raccoon will get him." Nature boy found an old stump, hollowed out, and tucked him inside on a bed of leaves, leaving his peanut butter sandwich closeby in case he needed a midnight snack. I'm a little frightened of wild animals, but it sure tugged at my heart to know a baby was fending for itself, lost from its mama. I could cry just thinking of it. And my heart turned instantly to the millions of orphans around the world, essentially with the same fate. I pray... I wonder what our family can do...

I am lingering in this tension, between the need and our resources. I wonder, if the Spirit is leading your heart, if you would join me here. Together we can pray.

Squirrel drama put to rest, I returned to my girl playing quietly on her blanket.
It was that magic time of day, the time when God came and walked with man. And even now the light bows all glorious in its remembrance. 

And our hearts bowed with it, enjoying His nearness in Spirit, longing for the day we will again be face to face. Selah Joy sings a song all her own of her Creator Love, faithful as the sun setting and rising.

The Word gives us a beautiful glimpse into the heart of Christ, telling us in Colossians that all things were created by Jesus and for Jesus, and in Him, all things hold together (1:16-17).

I have found much peace in that verse through the most fearful moments, knowing that Selah was created by Jesus and for His pleasure. And that in Him, she holds together. In Him, I hold together, even when I found myself nearly broken to pieces with worry or fear.

Selah flat out belly laughs at the sun, when it blinds her so and squinting hard, she can't even open her eyes. I think she knows something we've forgotten.

Oh, the wonder of it all.

By day the LORD directs his love, at night his song is with me— a prayer to the God of my life. (Psalm 42:8)

Even in hardship, even through trial, the Son is still blinding with goodness.

And nothing, as Judah would say "Not ANY-THING", can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:39). That, my friends, is a warm blanket in a cold, cold world.

The LORD is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1)

When you know your Father's love, when you trust in the deepest parts that He's got you...because He's crazy in love with you, what have we to fear?

"Not Anything."

ejk

honey

I asked for thick, and boy has he smeared it on. Thick like honey, His spirit comes and sweetens, soothes, coats us all with His goodness. It tastes like peace, making room for simple joy. Settles down like gratitude, enhancing the flavor of his goodness all around. The gifts of these children, this man, how can I miss how loved I must be, given this dream to share a lifetime, to be offered today with them? Even more, to invest this life ever discovering the richness of Christ in me, in us, the Hope of Glory.
I don't want to miss the beauty right in front of me. He has given me fresh eyes to see it, and I'm cherishing it all. I don't want to miss the privilege of a life lived abiding in Christ, in plenty or in want, his grace truly sufficient in my weakness.
I have tasted, and He is good.
Oh, to trust Him more.
ejk

thick in my thin

I type with one hand, pecking away while my left arm encircles my peaceful child, content as long as she's near mom. By the extended time it has taken to type that first sentence she squirms with hunger making a liar out of me.

Thin.

Across the dimly lit living room, we both collapsed in self poured-out exhaustion. I told Aron that all of life feels very thin right now. My frame looks fragile in the mirror, and its that time after the fullness of pregnancy when my hair falls out in clumps scaring me half to death I might really lose it all. For the health of my girl, I have chosen to eat only a handful of foods, and 3 months on end of eating to live and to nourish my child, and I feel thin in nearly every dimension.

I think it is the accumulation of much of life pressing in, but three children has been more challenging than I imagined, and I feel thin - my resources simply not enough for all their needs. My patience has been so thin at times, and my day to day often feels like a hamster wheel, running myself ragged and never going anywhere. All the while knowing these moments are my life, and they are a gift.

And so I stand over stove and pray through tears, "Jesus, come. Be thick among my thin."

And he does. He blankets me in presence and patience and perspective and hope. I pour grapeseed oil in my oatmeal, adding calories wherever I can, and I feel him nourishing my heart this way: taking my thin, pouring over me the richness of his Spirit giving me all I need to thrive for today.

This journey of motherhood, it is a constant pouring out of self. And I would be empty if He weren't constantly, moment by moment filling my hollow places so I have something to offer the lives at my feet.

I don't want to waste these hardships, and I feel myself bowing to them. A younger me would fight them in frustration, knowing this is not how life is supposed to be. But God taught me something right in the middle of labor, 8 centimeters of excruciating pain. And each wave seemed unbearable and I writhed and twisted and fought against the pain so hard. I sang, no, I pleaded somewhere between earth and outer space, "I may be weak, but your Spirit's strong in me. My flesh may fail, but my God, you never will." And I felt Him gently coach me to submit to the pain. To allow it to accomplish its purpose: to open me up to new life. As the next contraction came, I simply went limp, allowing my body to do what it must. The pain remained, but somehow, enduring it was easier now that I wasn't fighting against it. So now I remember James' words to consider facing trials pure joy because of what will be accomplished through perseverance. And Paul's words about God's discipline, so painful at the time, but only for a little time, for our good, that we may share in his holiness. So I whisper prayers in my thinness, "God let this hardship change me. Help me to allow it to accomplish the good it should. To birth new life in me."

So thin in my flesh just now, but as I explained to Aron, "Never before has Jesus' words been more alive for me, 'I am the Bread of Life.'" I feed on him, and he nourishes like no food can.

"There is rarely nothing you can do. Being still and knowing He is God is a long shot from nothing. Trusting in a God you cannot see is a long shot from nothing. Holding your tongue is a long shot from nothing. Being patient is a long shot from nothing. Counting it all joy is a long shot from nothing. Submitting is a long shot from nothing. Confessing sin is a long shot from nothing. Resting in Christ is a long shot from nothing, and hear this one really loudly: praying is a long shot from nothing."
- from James Mercy Triumphs study, Beth Moore

simple goodness

raspberry season is upon us.

we might turn a healthy shade of pink for all we're consuming.

i'm not sure there is a more delicious way to spend an evening than this:

a fresh raspberry milkshake, bursting with summer's richest berry.