It's what I do when I'm not doing everything else

I'm writing a book.

But some days I don't write and only think about my characters in a forlorn, wistful, ah, if we only spent more time together-kind-of-way.

This writing 'something' process is not how I imagined and I'm reigning in my brain to stop imagining how 'real' life might pan out and keep imagining the imaginary story I want to make real.

This is what I want to do, to write. So why is it so hard?
Well, (me preaching to the choir) just because I want to do it, doesn't mean it will be easy. It just means the motivation for it is often riper and easier to access.
Also - why should it be easy?
Why should anything worthwhile be easy?
Where the heck has that little lie bedded into my thinking?

Like life is easy.

So I think I need to get over that - and get on with the good hard work of making a good life and completing the story for these little friends running around my head.

Forgetting

Listening to the radio the other day, the words of the song hit me -
"You can't run when you're holding suitcases....Yes, it's a new day, throw away your mistakes and open up your heart, lay down your guard, you don't have to be afraid..."

Breathe

I carry around SO Much CRAP sometimes!
Goodness.
Just carry it around, letting the weight of it overwhelm me, lashing out at my beautiful family when I've got this stuff that actually isn't even mine - and I can lay it down.

This revelation just keeps on hitting me in sweet waves.

release

That's gonna be my theme song this year.

What's funny is as I was singing it, I realised I had been afraid of so much. So afraid.
So afraid of failure that I haven't started.
Afraid of the future being bleak when most days are actually pretty good.
Afraid of not having enough when I've got left-overs.
Afraid I'm not going to have good relationships with my children when they're being built right now.
Just nasty old fear, creeping in again, trying to look like stress or "busyness" - such a big 'ol liar.

I love this thought from Helen Keller, who overcame incredible challenges, she said, 'Security is a myth. The reason we don't experience it is because it doesn't exist. Avoiding danger or failure is no safer in the long run than out-right risk. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.'

So this year, I'm going to:
Rest in tiredness, when it comes
Dig wells in myself to make more space for my children's needs
Listen better
Push my mind and heart out of these four walls and take those needs I see to the Father
Be honest in love
Embrace the sacrifice of patience
Take deep breaths often
Smile for no reason until the reason appears

And I'm going to move FORWARD in the things burning in my heart, forgetting what is behind, believing that He'll give me the capacity and trusting that the good stuff is bedded in the soil of my heart, springing up even now.

Beginning again

2012

Is it me, or does this year have a certain ring to it?
And not just because of the London Olympics either...

2011 was a tough year for me.
Realised I still have A LOT of growing up to do! Hopefully some of that work has been done now though and we can go into 2012 breathing easier. Ah.

I've been fighting crazy things, you might even say the inevitable, and sometimes not knowing what the heck I was railing against, feeling out of control.

DIY has brought some things to the surface - I love how that happens - you start making your lounge a place you'd actually choose to pay to hang out in, and in the process you unearth and deal with some really broken places in your heart. I say, "you" deal with it, but really, HE has dealt with it and keeps touching it and healing it further and further back to the root pain. SO thankful my God is a healer.

So the house is getting more ordered and my head is following suit.

Thankful that the beginning of 2012 has started with healing, tidiness, laughter and connecting with people - those are the things (minus the tidiness) that never pass away.

The Real Light

Been thinking a lot about suffering...and how God uses it.. and redemption.

This year, more than ever, I've been struck by what Jesus' birth must have been like. So shatteringly humble. And hard. And bleak. And yet, there were amazing wonders in the sky, and Angels, real and blinding, and Shepherds, salt-of-the-earth people, making their way to visit a baby that was just born to a teenager in a barn.

It blows me away.

A baby born to live with God on Earth, show us the way, and die for everything that might separate us from God.

I'm on a journey discovering what I believe about all this...how I really see God...how I relate to Him.

Some of this stuff I'm thinking about I really need to get - I guess we all need to get it for ourselves at some point! - But this is the stuff I want to write about - cause there is so much suffering, so much...and people don't sometimes know how to reconcile that with a loving God -

I mean, he didn't spare His own Son, but His plans - well, I just know they're wonderful and sometimes we have to hang on through the dark, believing in the light all the time, believing when we don't see.

Praying that you find the light if you're going through a hard time - praying you'll know Emmanuel - God is with you, just a whisper away.

Hungry

My baby wants milk.

She doesn't understand, but if I give her milk, chances are, she'll vomit it up.
Tummy bug.

But the crying, nonetheless.

She's over a year old, so we're thinking we'll bite the bullet and stop the bottles now, since we're going through the pain of weaning anyhow.

We need her to fill up on meat instead of milk.

And as I was holding her - while she threw her head back crying, like, just give me a bottle already...pleading...

God was speaking...
Isn't this so like you sometimes...crying for what you don't have when what I want to give you is better. Bigger. Fuller.
And sometimes I have to take the milk away so you'll get hungry enough to want the meat.
I take the milk away - all the familiar connections that used to feed you - the relationships...I need you hungry for the meat.

And I do throw my head back wailing. Questioning. Hurting. Uncomfortable. Why do I feel so bereft?

But maybe He's been there holding me, offering me all that He is, and at once sympathising with my heartache but also knowing this must happen - and that I'll get through it - and have peace again.
And all the while He holds me, loving me through the thrashing and clashing of wills.

Cause I want milk, but He has something better.