Christmas Cleansing

After Thanksgiving, I committed to a cleanse to rid my body of built-up toxins. It’s a routine I have completed before, yet I always seem to forget the toll it takes—and how inconvenient the timing can be. This particular cleanse works by pushing impurities to the surface, manifesting as breakouts and painful sores on my face. With holiday events and gatherings in full swing, it was not exactly the most convenient time for my body to wear its detox on the outside.

This season has a way of catching me off guard every year. Deep down, I know there’s historical trauma tied to it, yet I cling to the hope that time will heal all wounds. In recovery, I have been told "if it's hysterical, then it's historical." And the truth is, some scars have a way of reopening without warning, reminding me that healing is an ongoing process and what I "resist will persist." 

It’s inconvenient and far from pretty, but the real danger lies in avoiding the intentional work of "clearing out the toxins." When I neglect this process, the things getting stirred up within me have a way of spilling over, affecting those close to me in ways I never intended. 

Sometimes, the right person asking the right question can draw out information I never intended to share. In the midst of my wandering thoughts and assumptions, I found myself having that exact experience—right in the middle of the grocery store.  Of course! 🙄 This person's simple but piercing observation stopped me in my tracks: “Julie, that doesn’t sound like you at all.” Deep sigh. I realized I hadn’t lost myself completely. It was more like yanking out a stubborn weed, not overhauling the entire garden. 

Holding the tension between the joy of the season and the grief of past wounds is messy, but even in the discomfort, I can see God’s gentle kindness. He uses this tension to bring healing—not just for me, but for my family as well. The holidays, with all the cultural busyness and pressure to create “magic,” offer me a choice: to join in the chaos and distraction OR to slow down and mirror nature’s Winter rhythm of rest. When I’m gentle with myself, that gentleness naturally flows to others.

Through the traditions and reflections of Advent, I’m drawn back to the foundation of my faith. It’s a time of rediscovery, where light exposes what’s hidden and pruning shapes what’s fruitful. Luke 6:45 reminds me that “the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” This verse challenges me to examine what lies beneath the surface. Left unchecked, hidden wounds or unresolved struggles can erupt, causing others—and myself—to question the fortitude of my foundation. There may be cracks from neglect, but it can also simply reflect normal wear and tear that requires care and attention. How do I know the condition of my heart? By slowing way down and embracing stillness and quiet. Simple enough, and yet the most difficult for me. Hebrew 4:11 sums up my efforts "striving to enter that rest." 

But the beauty of God’s work is in His discipline. While it doesn’t feel like love or progress in the moment, I am trying to see it as evidence of His active presence in my life. He has shown me, time and again, that even in the strangest of seasons, He is there—rescuing, refining, and resurrecting.  

One of my favorite Advent readings is the story of Zechariah. His season of silence might look like punishment, but it’s a powerful display of God’s grace. That time wasn’t wasted; it was a space for reflection, growth, and the fulfillment of God’s promises. It reminds me that God’s light exposes and His pruning refines, drawing me closer to Him and preparing me for greater fruitfulness. 🙏

Fear shouts that I’ve been spinning in circles, that my efforts have been meaningless, and I’ve missed the mark entirely. But when I reflect on my past experiences with God, I realize that whenever I start asking, “Am I crazy?” He is usually on the brink of something incredible. I see the evidence of growth in the rhythms and practices that sustain me. Over time, both physical and spiritual cleanses reveal fewer toxins, yet certain seasons stir up silt I thought had settled or awaken things I believed were long gone. This Christmas, I’m choosing to embrace the pruning process, extend extra grace to myself, and trust that it is worth it regardless of outcomes.

As this season of celebration and reflection unfolds, I’m choosing to slow down and remain open to the awakening it offers. God’s work in my life is steady and unwavering, even—and especially—when it feels uncomfortable. For that, I am profoundly grateful. Looking back at my written memories of Christmases past, even during the most turbulent times, I see a common thread: a miracle always arrived, in subtle and unique ways, but precisely in the way I needed it most.

Julie, Are you so foolish? After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to finish by means of the flesh? Galatians 3:3

What Makes Me More Dependent?

A few times each year, I get the chance to experience a unique blend of complete calm, intense exhilaration, and profound release—a sensation of transcending from one world to another. Paddling out into the ocean, just far enough that the laughter and chatter of kids swimming fades away. There’s complete stillness, except for the gentle roll of waves beneath me, and then I lie down, perfectly in line with the water. When I turn my head one way, I’m reminded of the shore’s safety, just minutes away. But turning the other way brings an entirely different feeling—a lump rises in my throat, and my heart races slightly at the thought of the unknown depths and distance stretching out beneath and beyond me. The feeling can be so overwhelming that I lose track of time and space, reduced to the size of a spec within the vastness surrounding me. When I surrender to it, I dissolve into an entirely different universe. In this out-of-body experience, I’m reminded that I am more spirit than flesh. Then I pull myself back, urged by a mix of fear and responsibility, reminded that the only choice left is to return—but not without releasing some of the weight I carried—a transformation of sorts.

How can I describe an experience that resonates at a soulful level when so much of my life feels measured by practicality, shaped by the depths of others’ experiences or what they choose to reveal about themselves? As I grapple with the cultural idea that freedom lies in individuality and independence, I find myself swimming in the reality that true freedom may actually come through dependence—a freedom that is accompanied by a cost rather than one that I simply deserve. This brings me face-to-face with an internal conflict.

The word for 2024 is "Wild," and reflecting on its implications sent me into a panic. But then the word "love" emerged as a soothing anchor, connecting me to the source of all love. As I was called to take steps and then leaps of faith, I became aware of parts of myself I never knew existed, and miracles manifested that I could never have imagined. Then, layers that needed to be shed were revealed in God’s perfect timing.

Love has been my anchor, but my understanding of it has been entirely changed. Surrender and I have become close companions in recovery, yet I’ve never had to be so willing. In a year filled with abundance and overflow, nothing and no one was taken from me; I had to choose to let go. The reflection looking back at me asks, "Julie, Have you truly 'came to believe'?"

A haunting from the past emerged in my nightmares. Was I ever genuinely invited into my relationships, or was I merely there for my function—something to offer, someone to be consumed? A statement made to me many years ago echoes in my mind: "You are a lot to take in; most people can only handle you in small doses." Questioning my relationships now, I wonder if I was only permitted to have input, experience a semblance of vulnerability, and share life rather than really doing life together (both of us participating actively in each other's lives equally)? 

And now the deeper end of the question...Was I doing a version of this in my relationship with God? I can see hints of it as I began to view Him increasingly as the gatekeeper of all answers and guidance. I knew I needed Him, but more often than not, my prayers were aimed at seeking direction to feel secure in my circumstances, rather than finding my security in Him. 

It only took a short stroll down memory lane to retrace His fingers in all my protection and provision. And one question that I had been taught a few short years earlier...What makes me more dependent? 

I needed to approach that question with some trepidation, as it has previously led to spiritual whiplash. My relationship with God has been nothing short of wild up to this point, and now it feels emphasized, bolded, and italicized with the word for 2024.

There is overwhelming beauty and terror in this question (similar to being one with the water and the sky in the ocean). Because the direction can change at any given moment...creating a dependence in and of itself. A few examples:

Continuing a relationship or relinquishing it.

The job that requires more time and provides more money or the job that makes me financially unstable

Pinching pennies to save for retirement or investing in something now

Sacrificing to homeschool or trusting God with my children in public school.

{Insert any crossroads or intersection of life}

In any given season or sometimes any given moment what makes me more dependent can change. I had a year that I was given 3-4 different directions for one single issue. 

Why on Earth would I want to be more dependent? Because, although it is incredibly uncomfortable, I have chosen to be a citizen in that upside-down economy of God, where every other day can feel like opposite day. 

As I've been provoked, stirred up, and shaken by this wild year, what settled at the bottom of my overflowing cup has been revealed. I realized that my own version of vulnerability has enabled me to exhibit transparency and a semblance of authenticity without truly engaging or participating as fully as I could. I was not really "going there" like I thought I was. 

My ability to be dependable, trustworthy, and attached is directly connected to how much I rely on God, trust Him, and engage with Him—delving deep to receive His love. Today, I realized that when I explore that level of “known-ness,” it can be overwhelming, much like being in the ocean. I often find myself scrambling to escape the fear of exposure and the beauty of acceptance. Yet, when I lean into it, the experience is profoundly fulfilling, and I emerge transformed. (Something that I typically sum up as "operating out of an overflow rather than a deficit.")

The path that encourages my dependence carves a way through a relationship that moves me forward toward Him, even in the absence of answers. And, paradoxly, therein lies the answers. 

John 15:5, Galatians 3:3, Proverbs 3:5-6, Psalm 37:4, Mark 2:22, 2 Corinthians 5:17, James 1:5 and 1:17

 

Frail Moments in a One Parent Home

When visiting my family in the Spring of 2012, I received the news that my grandfather had unexpectedly passed away. I did not get to attend my grandmother's funeral, so I was grateful to be in the area at the time. When we arrived at the service, I sat myself in the back row with my toddler and infant completely oblivious to the obvious...toddlers and infants don't sit through funerals. After several attempts, I accepted defeat and allowed my other family members a more peaceful grieving experience. In that moment, my heart realized my reality, I would not be afforded the luxury and privilege of tending to my grief when it showed up. 

At the time, raising two children on my own was temporary. My mantra was "I can get through anything with an end date." The art of powering through, until I could arrange for, or schedule the care of my children, and shield them from my own trauma, began. And to my credit or demise, I came close to mastering it.

Now, with older children, my four daughters are not easily fooled by any facade. They call me out when they catch that faraway look in my eyes, revealing I'm not fully present with them. Long car rides that once allowed me to quietly release pent-up tears are now noticed rather than ignored. They sense the palpable distance created by the weight on my chest that I try to carry with confidence. The guilt consumes me when my frail humanity shows through instead of the strength, they should be able to rely on. I have spent much of their lives shielding them from the negative behaviors and choices of others. But who is there to protect them when I fall short?

This week JoJo was upset about a minor issue right before bed. On a whim, I asked her if she could possibly stop being upset, if I allowed her to express her feelings the next day at 1:00pm. She paused her whole tantrum in shock over this request. She very matter of factly told me "Absolutely not, I feel this now, and I am going to get this out."  She is right. It is an absurd request.

I am 100% responsible for 4 humans. Experiencing life with them is one of the biggest joys most days. I don't wake up with the weight of responsibility, but rather the anticipation of what the day will bring with each individual personality and contribution to the collaboration. On my fragile days, though, I can be consumed with the fear that my weakness will create insecurity as their protector and provider. I never want my children to feel like they must take care of the person that is here to take care of them. 

Then, I had an interesting experience with JoJo.  I was doing yoga in the living room while JoJo played quietly by herself. As I attempted a difficult balancing pose, she noticed my foot wasn’t in line with my hip like the instructor in the video. JoJo gently placed her hand under my ankle to lift my leg. Although I was still using a good portion of my own strength and effort, she adjusted my leg in a way I couldn’t manage on my own while also keeping my balance. Once I moved to the next pose, she simply went back to what she was doing

The significance of that moment has run through my mind multiple times. I did not feel weak or inadequate. JoJo didn't lose her confidence in my capabilities. She saw that I couldn't manage that part of the practice on my own, then once I could, she returned to her play time. I did not feel guilty that she interrupted her play to participate in my practice. And most likely she left with a sense of pride that she had what was necessary to help. 

It's a delicate balancing act. I preach that there is a measure of grace given to each of us for the season that we are called into, and I can summon that belief for my children as well. Ultimately, I am not their protector or provider or the one that loves them most. And I can find gratitude that they have had opportunities to witness this truth.

In this recent season of uncertainty and waves of unexpected grief, I have been giving myself a 2 hour window (expanded from usual 45 minutes of spiritual maintenance). I pour myself into reading, writing, praying, meditating, and physical practice. And even though I can't prevent all the impromptu moments of sadness, grief, or frustration… This intentional, scheduled time fills my cup to overflowing; resulting in much more of me available to be poured out. There is also a release of guilt as I invite my children to swim in the overflow, share in the supernatural joy, and allow them occasions to support in the difficult. 

They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. Jeremiah 17:8

Advent Awakening with Abraham

 Fear, Shame, Doubt it all hit me this week. Questioning some of my spending  in a season of financial uncertaintity, doubting my own ability to make wise choices and also God's provision. I am afraid I have completely crashed the Christmas Spirit . Pridefully puffing myself up in believing I have the power to destroy all that God has done up to this point. These feelings evolve into grasping for control. I have a fairly laid back parenting style and even more so  housekeeping style and and also the way my children are perceived in public. When I start tightening up in these areas and becoming overly controlling and stressed, all signs are blinking for me to take a step back and reevaluate.

Abraham 

The last line of our advent reading last night. (Genesis 21:107) "Because of Him, we can sing fa-la-la-la-la-la and feel what laughter does inside of us--it sends soda-pop-fizzing, bubbly joy all the way down to our toes."

I am not crashing Christmas Spirit in all my control and doubt. Christmas is not going to by-pass our home this year because of my unbelief. I am in it's very presence, and I am missing it. Joy! It's here for the taking. 

 Abram said: "O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?" 

God promises Abraham more than he can fathom. Abraham is asking small questions in the midst of big promises. And for a good portion of the fulfillment of those promises, Abraham won't even be present to witness it. (Genesis 15)

My relationship with Jesus is fractured when it is outcome based. It cannot be prayers being answered my way and promises fulfilled in my timeframe. "No weapon forged against me has prospered."  And yet, nothing has turned out the way I wanted.  The plans He has for more were better. The security system that He designed far outperformed what I had put my hope in.  And even still, it's God with us that matters most. Abraham did not see immediate results in the big things, he saw promises fulfilled in the step by step faith walk, and God's demonstrative covenant proved that God was with him in it the entire time. 

The end of my advent reading this morning. I was challenged to remove Jesus from the nativity set, and put my prayer there until Christmas Eve. Then put Jesus back in his place. Trust my prayers my hearts' longings with him, and also the peace of Him. Just having him in this life and in the next. That string of hope woven into the fabric of the Christ centered life 

False Start

"What will you ask of me?" this is a line in a song by Plumb. When I am in a certain state of mind. It repeats over and over as a rhetorical question. I don't really want to know the answer. Interestingly when I first typed that sentence, I mistakenly wrote When I am in a certain state of mine. Perhaps that is me telling on myself. In a state of mine, I do not want to know what I will be asked, because I am fearful of what I may have to give up. 

Is life and scheduling and exhaustion getting in the way of Advent, or am I avoiding what the Holy Spirit will reveal to me? As I encourage you to lean in, I am tempted to do the opposite.  The wrestling patterns in my Christian walk are embarrassing. The outcomes are shareworthy and inspirational, but not so much the mess in between.

First, I avoid. If you send me a sermon, or bible reading, or book, it is highly unlikely that I will get to it within a reasonable amount of time. Why? Because you can't unhear, unsee, unknow something once you encounter it. And almost always an action step is then required, or at the very least a willingness to go deeper.

After, I get past avoidance, and learn the thing I didn't want to learn, I then say emphatically "No" to whatever it is. I am not willing. Sometimes there are consequences, sometimes I miss out, and sometimes there is grace. I have not ended up in the belly of a whale yet. But I have gotten close. And ultimately, I cause myself a lot more grief, and also others. 

Next, I edge my way into obedience. Full on temper tantrums and arguing and fussing all along the way. It is not pretty. 

Finally, I do the thing. And I bask in the peace and freedom that comes from letting go and the willingness to obey. I would like to envision heaven rejoicing in this moment. But I am pretty sure they are just shaking their heads up there. I hope this is becoming less and less of a pattern for me. However, the start of Advent 2022 would suggest otherwise.

Last night in exasperation, I forced myself to listen to a 5 minute Advent reading on my Dwell app (highly recommend). 

Isaiah 54: 1-8 Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband, says the Lord. Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back, lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. For you will spread out to the right and to the left; your descendants will dispossess nations and settle in their desolate cities. Do not be afraid; you will not be put to shame. Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated. You will forget the shame of your youth and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood. For your Maker is your husband the Lord Almighty is his name—the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer; he is called the God of all the earth. The Lord will call you back as if you were a wife deserted and distressed in spirit—a wife who married young, only to be rejected,” says your God. For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with deep compassion I will bring you back. In a surge of anger, I hid my face from you for a moment, but with everlasting kindness, I will have compassion on you, says the Lord your Redeemer.

And I remembered Galatians...the turning point in my relationship with Jesus, and sometimes remembering is all it takes to awaken and refreshen desire. I could write paragraph after paragraph on how these words resonated with my soul. But I would prefer to just bring Isaiah 54 and Galatians 4 to your attention. 

Galatians 4:27-31 For it is written: Be glad, barren woman, you who never bore a child; shout for joy and cry aloud, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman. Than of her who has a husband.

Now you, brothers and sisters, like Isaac, are children of promise. At that time the son born according to the flesh persecuted the son born by the power of the Spirit. It is the same now.  But what does Scripture say? “Get rid of the slave woman and her son, for the slave woman’s son will never share in the inheritance with the free woman’s son. Therefore, brothers and sisters, we are not children of the slave woman, but of the free woman.

 

Advent Begins

Without even realizing it my anthem went from Beyonce's Single Ladies to Surface Pressure from Encanto. When another single mom pointed out this ode to all the pressure...I had a major "me too" moment. In fact, I would vote for the entire Encanto soundtrack being added to the Christmas playlist every year. Holiday pressure is at a simmer point right now, but it has the potential ...as we measure this growing pressure, to keep growing, keep going..

There's a similar feeling in those hours before dropping the girls off with their Dad. Stuffing in as much love and fun and happiness possible before they leave. Adding pressure and shame and anxiety and expectations into an experience, rarely results in anything other than chaos and tears. I am unlearning my propensity to act on these feelings rather than just acknowledging them.  My intentions can be sincere, while my heart posture is out of balance.

For many years, I associated Christmas with performance, getting it right, providing and capturing the Christmas spirit. Then one Christmas I pushed myself to a breaking point. I allowed an incident, right before Christmas Day,  a life changing, terrifying event, to be swept under the rug in the name of Christmas. "It was a shame this happened around the holidays", so I pretended that it didn't. Pride snuck in, making me believe my "resilience" is what fueled my strength. I had passed the test, I could conquer anything.  Leading me to many holiday seasons where I manufactured the Christmas magic, or remained vigilant and on edge.

In 2018, I had reached my max capacity for creating Christmas bliss. It wasn't some Grinch filled episode of determination to ruin Christmas. I simply accepted reality regardless of the time of year. Christmas actually didn't need a bodyguard to ward off any threats of dismantling it. I allowed truth to be revealed and peace to come in an unexpected ways, rather than protecting my image and the image of Christmas. I was broken and weak. And in that, I realized my weakness was my strength.

Jesus arrived in the most vulnerable position possible...as a baby. He chose to enter into our heartache, our disappointment, our failure. This was mind blowing to me. I was too busy or flustered or scared to pay attention to this before. It was in my weakest moment of letting everything fall apart that clarity was revealed in Emmanuel. And that year, and every year since, Christmas has come to me, and I no longer had to produce it, bury my hurt to get to it, or succumb to the pressure. 

The foreboding fog that loomed over me each season has been replaced with anticipation and wonder.  I consider the 400 years of silence without a peep from God. I imagine it to be very ominous, going from keeping eyes and ears open for God's direction, to year 105 or 208.  Every sound creating a chill or dread at what could be lurking in the cavern of God's silence. But then, Zechariah, receives a prophecy and Mary is told the impossible...there's a stirring, restlessness, anticipation...advent.

41 Freedom

Opposing Versions

When someone says, "Oh that's just (insert your name)!" when explaining your unique traits. What would be said? What quirky thing is attributed to you? What would you like it to be?   

For me it could refer to a few things... my spur of the moment adventures, or my 15-20 minutes of wiggle room I give myself on time, sometimes hearing my laughter from afar, or very strange mishaps/misfortunes that seem to only happen to me (or because of me), or the strange things you will find under my car seats or the corners of my kitchen.

My hope would be that "Oh that's just Julie" would mean this:

-she's a little quiet today, she must be wrestling with God

-that's a strange choice, but we know she is Spirit lead

- she's off track now, and that means obedience and submission is just around the corner

-she can be passionate, and we see God using that 

-oh no that could fail, but she's been asked to fail for Jesus before (and she failed with flying colors) 

In short, at 41,  I want the evidence to be clear on the soul shifts that are occurring. I want to be trusted with my freedom in Christ, while also protecting it . 

Last year, 40 was on the horizon, and my baptism, the symbolism of coming out of the wilderness and celebrating not only surviving the last few years, but also moving forward. It felt magical. As though God was going to finally bestow on me the promised land. I put a lot of emphasis on that birthday. It was so much more than a milestone birthday to me. 

Now, weeks from 41, The enemy lurks around the corner taunting, as he is known to do, with holidays and anniversaries of events. Has anything really changed from the previous year? Did you really make any progress? 

The journaled timeline of my heart's progression proves, I am not the same. I am a new creation.  I am free! I  was under the impression that I would feel free when I got the house in my name, or the divorce was final, or a new relationship began, or my children affirmed that I had not completely messed up everything. But freedom was there for the taking all along, in my letting go, surrender. And I began choosing it over and over. When did that start happening? I do not know. All I know is that things that used to take me down, no longer do. That I gave other people the keys back to their choices. And even in wanting more, within my desires, I am held and content. 

A friend says, "You have been through a lot this year." I am a little confused. Previous years were much more dramatic...a rollercoaster ride with high highs and low lows, and a lot of turbulence in between. "I mean internally, you've processed and worked through a lot." 

 My promised land came in the form of renewal from within. My response, my outlook, my understanding was turned upside down, but in that paradoxal way that only Jesus can do. 

 I previously would have

overreacted, 

and created solutions to things that were not my problem, 

and forged paths that were not meant to be part of my journey. 

Truthfully, I tiptoed around old versions of me, danced on lines, and allowed my flesh to have too much dialogue in my subconscious.

 But I wrestled--the new version of me grew louder and more confident...and eventually my becoming new overcame the haunting of my former self. 

"Julie, do you trust yourself?" How can I answer that. I don't even know this person. This is a version of me that I have not been introduced to. When she speaks, and thinks, and takes action...it's as though I am seeing her for the first time. I like her, but I am not quite comfortable in her skin. And, I have a quintessential fear of success. And this girl is not playing around with breaking chains and patterns and being and especially being different. 

Integration 

1 Thessalonians 5:23 May the God of Peace himself sanctify you entirely (wholeness); and may your mind and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Renewal of mind and living from a surrendered heart and discovering my identity required the integration of the body. So much is being locked in there. Attention to the body strengthens awareness. Loving God within the body that he gave me, and accepting it, and nurturing it. 

A high value on my list is growth. I am attracted to people that desire ongoing personal growth through trying new things, choosing to be uncomfortable, and peeling back that next layer to expose what God wants to refine next. And, what is valuable to me needs to also be found in me...integrity of my mind, body, and soul. 

 I have integrity when my core values and beliefs penetrate all areas of my being. And if alarm bells are going off in one area, I can dissect/ explore all areas, and apply healing holistically, apply the spirit of power, love, and soundness throughout. 

1 Timothy 1:7 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love and of a sound mind. 

I had not idea I was neglecting my body, until I paid attention to it.  No longer forgetting my body to the integration of mind and soul, gives integrity to my overall being-who that I say that I am-who He says that I am throughout. 

Integrity creates wholeness, unification, soundness, and consistency...discipline.

Soundness reveals stability  and thorough knowledge/experience. In the bible verses that use "sound" the greek work is Sodzo--which is delivered, rescued safe. It gives an essence of already there, already covered, it's already yours for the taking---salvation. Can the body be part of my sanctification? 

 

Enter Yoga...an unexpected and yet integral part of the story. And it's metaphors are not lost on me. Yoga is a practice. My core is central to the whole thing. In life and in my body, I have concentrated on strengthening all the areas outside of my core. My yoga instructor could see my frustration. Very practically, she said " think of how long you did it your way. Be patient as you embrace posturing yourself in a different way." 

My stance, my movements, my coping, my worship all felt right..eventhough  it wasn't.  And now what is right feels painful and uncomfortable. Eventually, it will become a natural rhythm of life.  Muscle memory develops...with practice. 

And that sums up my frustration with life right now. 

Being told to sit, practice, endure, wait...allow this new self to develop trust, build strength, stamina. Allowing God to bring me a gift. The gift of the next step, the gift of rest, the gift of Him. 

But, God, don't you see?

Didn't you hear...there are plans for my future? 

So much to be hopeful about! I am amazed by the new life, thriving rather than surviving, the fresh possibilities that await! Abundance! Freedom! Awakening!

Be still, wait, practice, build endurance, receive

“I dare say you will think it a very easy thing to stand still, but it is one of the postures which a Christian soldier learns not without years of teaching. [Stillness] is one of the most difficult to learn under the Captain of our salvation.--Charles Spurgeon

Practice 

Isaiah 43:19 I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way/road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. 

A 55 year old friend in recovery, says to me "I don't get it, I am older, and yet I feel younger than          I ever did."

She put words to something I couldn't. The integration of it all has allowed for freedom to restore a youthfulness, an energy, a loss of  a weight. Freedom...newness. And as I continue to encounter those ahead of me in life and in books, God does not let up. He keeps shedding off the old and offering renewal. 

I am choosing slowness, bending my will, practice, taking it one step at a time, and asking a lot of questions. I am getting to know myself on this side, Jesus on this side, and others on this side. I am repositioning. My core strength tends to shift when I move from one thing to the next too quickly.   And it's a time to remember, recall, and recommit to the process. The Israelites built a golden calf-an idol while they were waiting, forgetting what they just experienced. 

God has plans. He has reawakened long forgotten desires and dreams--feels painful and hurtful at the moment. He has offered up a list of choices and possibilities. And He says let's go a little further and let's get to know each other here. So much has been reawakened, restored, revived. And my propensity to fall back into unbelief is there beckoning me to take control and make it all happen. And thus the practice begins.

Being Still But Not Stagnant

Joshua 3:8--"When you reach the edge of the Jordan's waters, go and stand in the river." I can't hang out on dry land doing nothing. I take the step and wait for the waters to move...and the pathway to emerge. God makes this point in Joshua 3:4--"Then you will know which way to go, since you have neve been this way before." 

So I am putting myself in the water. There is a stirring for sure and dry land is starting to emerge. I had to get in the water though. 

I recently had an interaction with my oldest. She is not happy with some of the steps I am taking. I asked a loaded question, not knowing which way it would go. I said, "Have I ever lead this family to disaster? I have asked a lot of big, heavy, and hard things of you---and did they every not turn out okay?" I braced myself for impact. And she shocked me. " No, Mom, you have made good decisions that were hard but they turned out good." What? I have a solid track record with her. I am trustworthy, that is,  God's direction is trustworthy. 

I am asked by a friend, her eyes dancing, half accusatory/half amused..."What is this life that you live?" and I am awe struck. There it is outside proof. The questions are changing..."How do you do it?" Are you going to be okay? How can I help? That's what I used to be asked. There's is something different on this side. True, real life. And it is noticed. A transformation that evokes curiosity. 

I will take on 41 with all it's lack of chaos, it's seemingly pause in a greater adventure, and it's consistency. And I will add my willingness, my practice, my mistakes, my realignment, my standing in the water waiting expectantly, my love, my hope, my faith, my passion, my wildness, my loudness, my laughter, and spontaneity and all that makes me a unique child of God.

I anticipate the waters moving, exposing the foundation laid before me, the path to open up and my family to arrive on the other side, to take a breather before being presented with the next water's edge.