State of the Union

It's right there. U.S. Constitution -- Article II, Section 3.

"...shall from time to time..."

"...give to the Congress," (so, I'm stretching this just a bit here), "Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such measures..."

This moment. Right now. The [present] State of Affairs.

With a recommendation to consider for how to proceed.

And isn't this what we're all craving?

The announcer's, "He's winding up, ladies and gentlemen... and he's ready for the pitch..."

We wait with bated breath.

For the decision. The diagnosis. The announcement. The call.

The benchmark.

Then...

(And one of my all-time favorite State of the Union addresses...)

The change of command, followed by this...

"Now therefore,"

That word: therefore. It's the image of strength and solidarity. It's, "listen, I've set you up for success. I've got you. Act accordingly."

In this case, the very next word after 'therefore?'

"...arise,"

ohmyword. Perhaps you're a little like me? Perhaps you experienced moments in which overwhelm paralyzed you? Moments where life took an unexpected, jolting turn? Or maybe, like me, you made a foolish decision that resulted in far-reaching and disastrous consequences? (Yep, I did that. With financial repercussions like aftershocks from an earthquake. ugh. I'll have to tell you that story sometime.)

But there it is. Now. Therefore. Arise.

"...go..."

"...go over this Jordan, you and all this people, to the land which I am giving to them -- the children of Israel."

And the One Who created this people and has a vision for their lives, continues, "Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given you, as I said to Moses."

He lays it out, "From the wilderness... to the Great Sea toward the going down of the sun, shall be your territory."

And I love how God knows we need a bit of reassurance that we're not in this alone.

"...as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you nor forsake you."

So?

"Be strong and of good courage..."

"Only be strong and very courageous..." And the counsel to not turn to the right or the left of Truth, but to stay the course, "that you may prosper wherever you go."

There it is. The recommendation for how to proceed. And what if we all considered such measures? Be strong and very courageous. Build a life of habits based on Truth. Know that you're authorized to prosper wherever you go.

And all the life hacks, programs, seven steps and frameworks? It's actually much more simple than the headlines have led us to believe.

For all the brokenness and heartache and the fact that it wasn't supposed to be like this, whatever our 'this' is, the truth remains that we can choose to fix our minds -- our hearts -- on Truth. That we can declare Truth, meditate on Truth day and night, and act on Truth.

"For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success."

And who couldn't stand to be a little, (or a lot), more prosperous and successful in their relationships, and work, and finances, and leisure, and health?

And just in case there's any doubt about our consideration to such measures, he reiterates, "Have I not commanded you?..."

[and because if you're anything like me and you've heard these words a gzillion-trillion times so you zone out with a haphazard, yeh, yeh, I've heard it all before... let these words spark neurons, strengthen hope-giving synapses, and breathe new life]

"Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."


Reflecting on 2018. Acknowledging the State of the Present. Moving forward with strength and courage, vision and expectation.

December Money Experiment, Season 1, Final Episode

“Your feedback on our December Money Experiment?”

It’s a rare occasion to have all six of us home at the same time. A quick glance at the family calendar provides a sense of urgency. I have less than twenty minutes for a team meeting. Now, huddled in the living room of our extra-large tiny townhouse, we’re asking those timeless questions, what worked, what didn’t? Asking, what might we do different?  

“Mom, our house is just kind of a crash pad right now.” Ezekiel’s eyes hold mine. I process his metaphor.

Later, I would look up the definition of crash pad… 1. informal – a place to sleep, especially for a single night or in an emergency. 2. a thick piece of shock-absorbing material for the protection of the occupants of an aircraft cockpit or motor vehicle. Also, for a gymnast or for boulder climbing.

This season of transition, the launching of ideas, work, goals, projects.

This experiment stripped the fluff and superfluous. In exchange for an overflowing pantry and refrigerator, we received the gift of insight.

There it was.

All our desires. Laid out bare.

Bare necessities, yes. Like food. Sure.

I’m curious, though… can a basic need like food cause the dreaded onset of …complacency? Maybe?

The first ten days or so landed nothing short of victorious. Working within parameters stirred my creativity and imagination, resulting in delicious culinary creations. The atmosphere went from tense and worrisome to hey, this might be fun after all.

Until the only items left on the pantry shelves were a bag of flax seed, white wine vinegar and yellow corn meal. Half a box of pasta and a bag of “Glorious Gluten-free Cookies” from Christ Kitchen faced one another in their private arena, their incongruence begging the question, What is the intention?

The challenge was to live on a grocery budget of $200 for a month with a family of six. That comes out to roughly $6.45 a day for December. Only ten days in and we had already spent $96.09.

Three dollars and sixteen cents a day more than the allotment.

Worry crept back in at the edges. The refrigerator door made a hollow fmp when closed. Instead of bold, faith-filled declarations, a few team members fretted, we might starve.

And, you know that question… What will you be famous for? Well, in our family, something I’m (in)famous for is “turning everything into a life lesson.” Yes, well, eh-hem… about that. Funny how a gnawing in an empty stomach can make space to consider the deepest desires of the heart. 

The stark reminder that we’re spiritual beings having a physical experience.

And the life-giving truths, metaphorically chewing on them, Delight yourself also in the Lord…* Then Matthew’s exhortation, But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness...**

Whispered reflection, what do I want most? What does my heart long for? Heh. I glance over at my vision board where there in the lower right-hand corner it reads …a gourmet chef’s kitchen and a team of world class chefs. They live on the premises and prepare healthy meals for all meals every day of the week. Ah! A small taste (excuse the pun) of heaven in all this grocery-budgeting, ingredient-improvising and recipe-innovating.

So, there’s the vision, the goal (at least for the kitchen)… and in the meantime… in the present…

{long smile} “Do not fret – it only causes harm.”*** And, “Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”**** Well, yes, about that, too.

Instead of fretting, instead of getting carried away by tomorrow’s unknowns, I wonder…

…how simple, how amazing if…

What if, I wanted to know more of God’s heart… you know, the way I want food? What if we longed to be filled with more of God’s Spirit, the way we hunger for savory succulence hot out of the oven? What if we decided to be wholly satisfied with the sustenance found in the Sustainer of our days? 

What if, we leveraged our physical longings as a nudging reminder of our soul’s deeper longing?

What if, we followed the example of the psalmist, the wholehearted declaration, One thing I have desired of the Lord, that will I seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple. (Psalm 27:4) Yes, that… to encounter His presence… in “the premises” of my heart and soul… an ongoing communion…

Last week I read The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis. There’s a part where Screwtape, a demon on a mission to ruin a man’s soul, writes to his nephew regarding gluttony, “But what do quantities matter, provided we can use a human belly and palate to produce querulousness, impatience, uncharitableness, and self-concern?” Yes, there. Not the quantity, just the mere appetite.

Funny how something as fundamental as food presented possible epiphanies. How it shook up the complacent areas and caused me to consider this foodstuff on a soul-deep level.

Of course, I only pondered this all in my own heart as I looked at the five pairs of eyes looking back at me during this team debrief. Yes, the crash pad metaphor. Back to that. I especially like the second meaning, “a thick piece of shock-absorbing material for the protection of the occupants…”

{hold the wheel, that’s right, hold the wheel as we continue round this corner} This curve in the road with grown children finding their way, all of us – us parents included – stepping out into new endeavors, the faith-filled, bold declaration: I will behold the beauty of the Lord, to delight myself in Him, to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness. To lean into the transition, the new rhythm.

To execute on an idea. To take on fulfilling work. To achieve a goal, and then another, and another. To challenge ourselves, stretch out of our comfort zone and pursue projects that build a legacy of impact, changing the world around us for the better.

What if those are simply the fruit of utilizing our appetites, cravings, hunger pangs – whatever you call them – to lay bare the deepest longings of our soul? And to know Spirit absorbs the shock of our disappointments, impatience, frustrations, and setbacks.

So, we didn’t exactly work out all the kinks and fumbles in this experiment. And we didn’t succeed in the $200 challenge. The receipts from December 1^st through the 28^th document $235.80. Then, for some reason, on the 28^th, we ended the experiment… the receipts totaling $307.86 through the 31^st of the month. whelp. 

Based on the numbers, the experiment failed. Yet, the insights gained are priceless.

“So how do we make this a strategic, functional, effective crash pad, not just to meet physical needs, but for soul-care, too?”

The next fifteen minutes or so, we brainstorm ideas, possibilities. We establish a few outcomes from the experiment that will inform our next steps. For example, this new season in our family creates an atmosphere that more closely resembles a fraternity/sorority house of creatives and innovators than anything we’ve had before. Rarely is there more than one or two people home at the same time. 

Based on what we learned, we'll continue to look for ways to practice frugality. 

We'll give each other grace and space as we're all entering and exiting the revolving door of our home. 

We'll support one another in our goals and ambitions.

We'll continue to look for ways to create a culture of honor both here and everywhere we show up. One way we'll do this is to check in with one another, "How is it going for you? Is there anything I can do to honor and bless you?"  

We'll up the ante when it comes to praying for and with one another. (Something we've allowed to fall by the wayside.) 

We'll continue to seize moments to laugh together and serve together. And, ohmyheart... the ongoing, life-giving conversations around here! Yes, those. Whether a few minutes or a couple of hours, we'll definitely continue those conversations. 

What about you? Where can you challenge yourself? In what area might you create an experiment that could help you and your team create an environment that's aligned with who you are and who you want to become? 

*Psalm 37:4

**Matthew 6:33

***Psalm 37:8

****Matthew 6:34

Counting blessings…

303. All this, written while my family is a swirl of activity around me, making the traditional requested breakfast for Ezekiel on this, his 20^th birthday. French toast, scrambled eggs with sausage, and orange juice. Small tastes of heaven.

304. A new job for me! A continuation of my life’s work and passion: investing in and coaching families! Woohoohoo!! Thank You, Jesus!

305. A husband and grown children who are all stepping out in faith and pursuing God-sized dreams.

306. Difficult conversations and the ensuing decision to reign in ego, ask questions, listen, clarify and validate, share authentically, listen more. The resulting intimacy.

307. The glorious and exciting news of a friend’s outrageous success on a project.

308. An evening spent in the company of matriarchs who have loved, coached, mentored and invested in me for over twenty-one years.

309. A book that’s hung out at the top of my “To Read List” for way too many years, finally finished. And the 5+ pages of single-spaced, type-written notes from The Screwtape Letters which has given me plenty of fodder for future conversational musings.

310. A whole weekend to read and study Ruby K. Payne’s Doctoral Thesis, A Framework for Understanding Poverty.

311. An afternoon and evening with Aunt Kathy and Uncle Jake, (Grandma and Grandpa to our children), engaging in deep conversation, bouncing around ideas, seeking solutions to challenges. Aunt Kathy makes a lasagna dinner with all the sides and then we wile away the rest of the evening playing a game and laughing until we find ourselves reigning each other back in for the next round. LeRoy and Uncle Jake bond over the NFL game on television.

312. The anticipation of the week ahead.

313. All six of us home this morning for Ezekiel’s Birthday Breakfast. And again, this evening for his Birthday Dinner. Annnnd, in the interim, the opportunity for Ezekiel to go skiing with Eli and Israel. For LeRoy and Isaiah to hang out together and watch the NFL game at Uncle Jake’s and Aunt Kathy’s house. For a few hours of quiet space for myself.

December Money Experiment, Season 1, Episode 1

"I'd like to propose a grocery budget of $200 a month." His tone is faith and resolve. After all, our oldest spent the last year traveling with a team of 21. They made the best of meager resources. They sacrificed, he says. And they learned to be creative. 

He's confident our team of six has seriously underestimated what we're capable of in the areas of meals, nutrition and budgets. No worries, he assures us, trust him and he'll show us what can be achieved.

"I second that." Our third born, all logic and data, says he's in. His frugality has paid him huge dividends. So he's backing the idea in wholehearted agreement. And he agrees with his oldest brother, that we've probably been overspending on groceries. 

Our second oldest listens from the sidelines. And our daughter? She looks on, both bemused and curious. Unaffected. 

The proposal came about during a team meeting. "Regarding finances, I'd like to renegotiate some terms." All eyes turned toward Ezekiel. He shared a few goals and then, Eli, (inspired by Ezekiel's ambition?), pitched his idea.  

How did LeRoy and I respond to this proposal? Well, I laughed as I retrieved the finance notebook. 

Tracking income and expenses -- to the penny, it's a hobby. Accounting for checks and balances.  Making financial strategies and predictions. Creating margin. Organizing outgo, crunching numbers, and moving us toward financial freedom is fun. Romantic, even. 

I casually flipped pages, reporting each month's numbers, each one hovering significantly above the new proposed amount. 

No matter. I smiled. "I'm in." 

LeRoy (very) reluctantly agreed. It's for a short time and we'll chock it up to an experiment, I told him. Who knows, I shrugged, maybe we'll discover something we wouldn't have otherwise. 

So here we are. I'm a little behind on the documentation of this experiment, but so far, so good. Each of us agreed to contribute $50 toward the grocery budget along with meal planning and preparation, with LeRoy and I taking the first week. 

ohmygosh. I love it! There's nothing quite like boundaries and limits to spark creativity. Each day I perused the contents of our refrigerator, freezer and pantry with the question, "What can I make with what we have on hand?" 

Pasta drizzled with olive oil and garlic. Cream of broccoli soup paired with garlic bread, a chicken casserole, breakfast burritos (made in an extra-large batch and frozen for quick lunches later). I regret that I didn't track the meals better, but the ratings were five out of five.

Ezekiel took the second week, slightly leaner, yet nonetheless delicious. A second round of breakfast burritos, (this time with sausage, less veggies), enchiladas, and tacos.

Heading into our third week of this experiment. Will keep you posted on the intrigue and suspense, the creativity and imagination sparked by this challenge.

Counting blessings...

(continued from this post)

297. Presence.

298. Moments.

299. Time.

300. Creativity.

301. The way Eli passionately suggested that our family shake things up, take more risks, make sacrifices and try new things. 

302. Being on a team of good sports who know how to both go for the win and still keep things lighthearted and fun.

Recap of 2017 and An Idea

If you had to put a title on 2017, what might it be called? For me, I believe I'd call it Transition.

Germany rang in 2017 with the usual conviviality and merriment, fireworks on nearly every street and in the cobbled town squares. The carousing begins at midnight and carries into the wee hours of the morning.

Across Europe, the first day of the year begins with a day of rest. Businesses are closed, including grocery markets, making the next twenty-four hours conducive to contemplation and scheduling of the 364 days ahead.

For us, plans included a short visit back to the States sometime in the late summer or autumn. But that was eight or nine months away.

In the short-term, the coming months meant finishing the book I was writing, seeing many friends pack household goods and attending their "until later" parties as they moved to the next assignment, and preparing a two-week holiday with friends arriving in the springtime.

We did what we've always done. Settled into the new year, we carried on with work, education,  church activities and time with friends. Nothing happened too out of the ordinary except for the occasional cause for celebration like a friend's promotion at work. Or Ezekiel's 18th birthday on January 13th, celebrated on a men's ski trip in the Swiss Alps.

Yet, the environment at LeRoy's job grew increasingly difficult. Bureaucratic minutiae and poor management wore on him. And while his love for the actual work never waned, the thought of being surrounded by less than ideal attitudes and perspectives took their toll. Toward the end of January, he suggested we cancel our two-year extension and return to Spokane, Washington in six months.

So, maybe I'd title the year, Pivot. Over the next several weeks, the subject of moving filled the bulk of our dialogues. To be honest, I tried everything I could think of to try to change the situation. (Ha! In my book, Living Your Legacy, I talk about change. About the ability to accept what is while moving the story forward through skillful improvisation.) I didn't want to leave Germany and (selfishly) I thought there might be a solution that would allow us to stay for two more years. (I also wrote about how life is too short to stay stuck in a rut with no vision and little impact.)

Then one evening in February, LeRoy made a phone call to his friend, mentor, and previous boss at Fairchild Air Force Base in Spokane. And when he hung up, he turned to me and said, "We're canceling our extension and returning to Spokane this summer." And all the frustration and angst of the previous weeks and months dissolved into perfect peace.

The extension was canceled the next day. We'd fly out on August 20th.

Over the next four months, I finished my book, Living Your Legacy, we enjoyed exploring Europe with our friends, Larry and Sherry Templeton, and we said, "Until later," to many families. The movers arrived on a Monday morning in mid-July and we transitioned into temporary housing. (Over the course of the next three months, we'd live in six different places.)

A highlight in the middle of our move was our holiday to the Belgium countryside with our friends, the Johnson Family. Over a weekend that went way too fast, we stayed in a rustic French Gite just south of Dinant.

Exploration highlights comprised of a tour of the Citadel, beer tasting at the Maison Leffe, and kayaking on the River Meuse. Of course, there was the elegant and delicious Charcuterie Platter prepared by our friends, Warren and Jasmine, who paired our cuisine with a perfect French wine.

Then, a few weeks later, on Saturday afternoon, August 19th, we visited with friends-who-had-become-family one last time at Trattoria da Salvatore in Landstuhl. And at 3 o'clock the next morning, we left for the Frankfurt International Airport, arriving in Spokane, Washington that same afternoon.

That evening we had dinner with the Stone Family, and enjoyed a surprise visit from the Eva's. We spent the week "in-processing" which is military-speak for a small mountain of paperwork and checklists. LeRoy started work the following week. We searched for a place to live. Ezekiel searched for a job. Israel and I attended Women's Bible Study at Life Center.

Over the next few months, things fell into place. LeRoy thoroughly enjoys not only his work but the camaraderie and teamwork at Fairchild. We rented a townhouse on the outskirts of Spokane toward the airport and Airway Heights. Ezekiel got hired at the Starbucks only a seven-minute walk from our home.

Outwardly, it looks as though, for the most part, we've picked up where we left off. But things are different.

*~*~*~*~*

The last three years brimmed with the richness of relationships. (That's not the part that's different. We've experienced that everywhere we've lived.) :)  But the friends we met while living in Ramstein, Germany, are dreamers. They're action-takers who chase after audacious goals with purpose and unwavering faith and hope. Their lifestyles demonstrate anything is possible. 

They dream outside the lines, intimately connected to the One Who plants the seeds of what's possible in their hearts. For three years, we lived alongside people who live large... in faith, love, hope... adventure. People who poured encouragement and optimism over everyone they encountered because they were always up to something. (So much so, that I'll have to save that for another post.) 

This isn't to say everything always went well. We held one another up and prayed each other through difficult marriage, health, and parenting seasons. But it was a steadfast and intense community. One couldn't be in their presence without having Christ's love and joy splashed onto them.

Which brings me to my flash of insight. 

There's so much talk in our world these days about how we can 3X, 10X, or 100X our focus and efforts. Sure, I track with what they're saying. I mean, we spent the last three years with folks who live 10X and 100X lives. But somewhere along the way, I grew weary and being all in has started to feel... intangible. Until now.

My business coach and mentor, Steve Roller, wrote something recently that stirred inspiration and restored my vision for what's possible. He wrote about how he doesn't set an alarm to wake up. He allows himself to awaken to ideas. 

It's the second time within the last five days that I've heard one of my mentors talk about this. Earlier in the week, I heard John Maxwell relate a similar story from his own life. 

How often I've woken in the middle of the night or in the early morning hours with ideas that could have produced fruit. However, I didn't so much as write them down and then when I finally woke up "for real"... they were gone. 

So, I'm excited to test this theory that we can multiply our efforts -- that we can 100X our lives? (That wasn't the way Steve Roller or John Maxwell put it. That's just my own mashing of two ideas together.) :)  That taking action on ideas -- or at least writing them down -- as they present themselves, might be an organic, rhythmic way to multiply the fruit in our lives. 

I'll keep you posted. 

*I'm curious, did you think of what you would title 2017? Hit reply to this email and let me know. I'd love to hear your title. 

Cue the Curtain

It's 4:18 in the afternoon. Less than eight hours until we close our calendars on 2017. The curtain will close momentarily and a cacophony of celebration will ring in the next act. Of course, some will sleep through the event and others will whisper prayers.

A couple of days ago, an acquaintance sent me a copy of his list of declarations, goals and dreams for 2018. Twelve pages, single-spaced. It's powerful. And it got me thinking.

I used to dream bigger. I used to set audacious goals.

Then somewhere along the way, amidst the day-to-day routines and rigmarole, dreams shrunk. They went from epic to... manageable. Doable.

Perhaps vision got a little fuzzy in the transition of moving back to the States from Germany this last year. The sudden change in plans from a five-year stay in Germany to the new plan of returning after only three years. The adventure of living in six different places in the span of three months. Maybe pulling inward and purposing not to be idealistic gave me the illusion of control.

However, we're not designed to play small. Really, it doesn't benefit anyone if we shrink back. We're made to live into our purpose, to chase ridiculous dreams with wild, reckless abandon.   

I want my life to be a movie I'd want to watch with my children and grandchildren one day.

You know, sometimes you have to reflect on where the plot line of the story is going. And if it doesn't align with who you are, if it isn't congruent with your vision, then revise the script.

I talk about this in my book, Living Your Legacy. How it's important to slow down, ask the right questions, pivot where necessary.

During this brief intermission, I'm taking the opportunity to review the story line. To edit to epic, love-based, solution oriented, idealistic scenes.

This is going to be fun.


*How about you? Hit reply to this email and let me know what's in your story line for 2018. And let me know if there's anything I might help you with.

Book Launch Party! With a FREE Download

Yay for Book Launch parties! Virtual ones, too.

What an adventure it is to write and publish a book. I've learned a ton in this process, but most of all, (and best of all), going through this process has changed me.

Kind of like when I knew so much about marriage -- before I got married.

And when I planned out all my perfect parenting strategies -- before I became a parent.

I think I know so much -- until I actually step out of my comfort zone.

It's easy to wax eloquent about showing up for our lives and chasing our dreams. It's a whole different story to step out in faith and take action. Anyone?

We don't know what we don't know. How grateful I am that we can be leading learners!

Someone asked me the other day what prompted me to write a book. Great question.

I wasn't sure how to answer at first and then after some thought, I said, "You know, when we do the thing we're made for, it inspires people around us to show up for their lives, too. I've learned from and been inspired by so many people who consistently show up for life, I want to be more like them."

Living Your Legacy is my contribution to inspiring, motivating, and helping leaders recognize their impact and intentionally build cultures of honor. At work. At home. In life.

CLICK HERE to download your FREE copy of Living Your Legacy.

Make sure you download the free Kindle version as soon as possible. It's only free until midnight tonight.

*Be generous and share this LINK with your tribe. :)

**And if you read anything inspiring or helpful, will you do a favor for me? Will you click on this link HERE and leave an honest one or two sentence review? It will help the book stay at the top of the rankings. That way, others can easily find the book, too.

And, one more thing, click reply to this post and tell me what dream you have brewing inside you that might require you to step out of your comfort zone and be a leading learner.

"You Are The Average Of . . ."

You know the saying. You are the average of the five people you surround yourself with.

Last night, we spent the evening with an extraordinary family. Before they arrived, we were mere acquaintances. Yet, from the moment their coats were hung and the salad and side dish they brought were set on the table, the conversation volleyed creativity and ideas and possibilities.

Although dinner time was early in the evening, our conversation went late. These people cultivate a no excuses culture in their marriage and in their home. (Yes, please. Surround me with more of that.)

Encounters like these are oxygen for when the journey is long and our creative brain starts to get a little foggy. Here's a bit of motivation . . . at one point in the conversation, the husband said, "My work doesn't bring its' own reward, so I need to find ways to bring the intensity."

Bring the intensity. I smiled. I told him I hadn't heard that term used in at least three weeks, ever since Isaiah moved back to the States.

People who look for ways to bring the intensity are typically people who also take extreme ownership for their lives. They're always upping the ante, for themselves and whoever has the privilege of sharing their space. It's refreshing.

Later in the evening, we got on the topic of our personal websites. I told them about the website I've had for three years -- which only four or five people know about. His response was classic.

"Wait. You have a website no one visits? You don't share it?"

I cringed. Without an ounce of shaming, his question challenged me to face my pride and ego and move forward.

So, here it is. My website: www.sharonannolson.com

One of the ongoing projects in my life.

And thanks to our new friends, (they're brave, daring, audacious folks who foster undaunted faith and passionate mindsets), I'm rolling out the red carpet and inviting you in.

Please excuse the dust, the mess, and the noise. Hardhat recommended. We're in the process of figuring out what it means to bring the intensity.

How about you?

Do you have any projects right now which might be challenging you to take a daring step of faith? To bring the intensity?

Who are the people in your life who energize and inspire you? (Have you told them thank you?)

Field Work

Give me profound. Something that rattles my paradigms and shakes loose the chains in which I store my judgmental, unloving perspectives. Let me go to the field.

There’s a scene in Indiana Jones, Kingdom of The Crystal Skull, which quickens my heartbeat. Dr. Jones and Mutt are on a motorcycle fleeing for their lives in a high speed chase. As Mutt attempts to out-maneuver their pursuers he ends up riding into the university library where he lays the bike on its side and slides down the center of the building. They skid to a stop just before colliding with a group of students attending a lecture. Without missing a beat, one of the students on the front row asks Dr. Jones – who listens while brushing himself off and getting back on the bike – a question about archeology.

Mutt restarts the bike’s engine and starts to ride away as Jones answers the question, shouting the last bit of counsel over his shoulder and pointing to the young man,

“If you want to be a good archeologist, you gotta get out of the library!”

He shouts this to the young man… but he may as well be shouting it to me.

And it was standing in a circle in the driveway, our family and the family we had just met the day before, them praying blessing over our family as we get ready to set out on an epic adventure, which made my heart race. This family who invited us to stay in their home while attending the homeschool conference for the weekend… the ones we stayed up with until 12:30 in the morning sharing stories and laughter like we’d been friends for a lifetime. The profound intimacy and beauty of Kingdom Connections.

I am finding profound in these Kingdom moments. These seek-ye-first-the-kingdom-of-God-and-His-righteousness moments when I am filled to so full that I think I’ll surely burst with the eternal-ness. Moments when Heaven’s horizon is so close that I can wrap my arms around it, embrace it, and revel in the all-these-things-shall-be-added-unto-you of it all.

It comes to me through the crackly, “wait, what did you say? You’re cutting out…” voice on the line all the way from Southeast Africa – in the friendship that transcends oceans and continents and the supernatural connection that doesn’t wane. Her laughter and encouragement a grace gift I tuck in my heart and replay over and over.

Field moments, one right after the other, connections between people turning ordinary into extraordinary in kitchens, on telephones, over e-mail, on the bleachers at the game, in a card thoughtfully chosen with a word of encouragement written inside, in classrooms, cafes…

Raphael's "And how can we pray for you?" in the French-bakery-turned-church.  The way our friends opened their home and their hearts, invited us to share in their ministry of loving people.  How they showed us that spending time in the field is tangible, moment by moment caring for the other in the tension and struggle and victory and celebration.

So it is with much anticipation that our family is setting out on an epic adventure, getting “out of the library” to do some field work, to use all our senses to experience what we’ve only previously read and heard about.

We leave for Nepal this Tuesday, arriving in Kathmandu on Wednesday afternoon. 

Grateful for the profound...

169. In the way that Israel finishes reading part of the story about Moses telling Pharoah to let the people go, closing her Bible with a sigh and, "All the good books stop right when it's getting really good and I wonder what's going to happen next."

170. The evening my girlfriend and I pulled into the driveway and the two-hour conversation that ensued.

171. And the depth of vulnerability and authenticity cultivated in a friendship through doing life together.

172. In the level of (desperate, eventually-joyful) dependence on God as I realize daily that I'm in way over my head in this mission of motherhood and the pressing into the struggle of training up becoming-adults.

173. ...Grace.

174.  Wisdom offered up when my attitude of defeat and self-pity bubbled out over the phone to a friend and she gently reminded me that there isn't anything in my life that's an oversight on God's part.  How that He's known it all along and He's got it all under control.

175. ...sense of peace that comes from knowing I'm not responsible for "running the universe."

176. Thoughtfulness of husband who sacrifices in a thousand small and not-so-small ways everyday.

177.  In the way that his love continues to cover in spite of my selfishness... and how that alone somehow loves me right into his arms.

178. Exhortation of 14-year old Zae who gently reminds, "Instead of stressing, stop and take a second to pray about this."

179. Laughter all round as we linger long at the dinner table sharing stories from our day.

180. Anticipation of not knowing what lies ahead as we embark on a Kingdom Journey together.

181. Dialogue filled with passion and conviction.

182. Awareness that almost five years have gone by since we moved to Germany.

183. Dreams that lie unfulfilled and how my spirit soars when I contemplate stepping through to this next transition.

184. Expectation of God's faithfulness and amazing grace in this next chapter...

185. Simplicity.

One Day Without Shoes

Yesterday, April 5th... {long, weary sigh... what do they say, "A day late and a dollar short"?} Ah, well, never mind. I'm passionate enough about this whole YOU WERE BORN TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE... WHAT'S YOUR IDEA TO CHANGE THE WORLD thing that I don't mind how late I am... I've jumped in as soon as I realized.

Realized what, you ask. Well, many (most?) of you probably went without shoes yesterday in honor of "One day without shoes," a day that Blake Mycoskie put in motion to bring about awareness for children who don't have shoes in third world countries. So. Today. I'm going without shoes.

Today. I'm going about my day with bare feet and whenever anyone asks me why I don't have shoes on I'm going to ask them what their idea is that could change the world -- another person's life. I'll tell them about one person's vision and the impact it is having on the world -- how it's changing lives... one life at a time.

And I'm going to think about my little corner of the world... and do some mental/heart inventory... and ask myself these same questions.

How about you? What is your idea to change the world?


Photo: my children at the North Sea just outside of Amsterdam, Netherlands.  July 2009.

Naked

What are your dreams?

Funny.  I'm writing this even as my children and husband are watching the movie Gifted Hands.  But here's the brutal truth... I'm in a slump.   Some kind of weird funk.  That strange space between final safety checks and the actual jump.  That exhilarating, heart-thumping, toes-hanging-over-the-edge moment... the one where fear shows up and tries to talk some kind of complacent sense into my illogical, radical idea... the moment when I'm just. about. to jump.

To take that vulnerable leap.

A couple of weeks ago, after I finished tucking blankets under chins, saying prayers of blessing, relishing seconds of silence, a switch flipped inside me.  THAT switch.  The one where... oh, goodness... you know the one.  It's that switch where the red light flashes brilliantly on my emotional dashboard.  The one that comes on after I've mulled over some nagging question all day or analyzed some topic until steam begins to pour from my emotional radiator.

LeRoy was already in bed.  I paused for a nanosecond, considering how rude it'd be to wake my already-showered, soundly-sleeping, have-to-get-up-in-the-morning-to-work husband.  But my rudeness won out.  And, bless this man with supernatural forbearance!  He threw back the covers, his command, loving, gentle, "You talk.  I'll listen."

I stood there in the shower.  Emotion, heavy with frustration -- indignation, really -- poured from my heart, soul's soliloquy with husband, my soul mate, listening intently to every word. 

Angst, passion, hopes, disappointments, hurts, and dreams tumbled out.  I traveled down the road of comparing myself to others, crumbled under the weight of not measuring up, entertained defeat. 

"I am so, so glad, LeRoy," the champagne-setting on the shower head nozzle washed over me, "that you and the children love me just because I'm me and not for any kind of success or accomplishment... not for my performance."  The last words sputtered through broken sobs.  He embraced me long, the strength of him protecting me from utter despair, my tears falling on his already shower-wet shoulder.

To be naked.  Vulnerable.  And... loved.

All this mental box-checking causes me to dwell in a place of shame and self-condemnation... self-pity.  A place where I'm tempted to succumb to self-loathing over unchecked boxes.  Complacency has appeal, however depressing.  I click on the computer game Luxor and fritter away almost three hours, stare off into space, eat three-fourths of an extra large bag of peanut M&M's in one sitting.

Passion is a tricky thing.  It fires me up, helps me see goals with renewed clarity, fuels motivation.  But just as quickly, I am my own worst critic.  I begin to edit myself, second-guess, doubt the wisdom of not going along with convention.  Dreams get muddled and I am embarrassed at the vulnerability and nakedness of being wrong.  The possibility of all that risk entails.

"Maybe this is a year of breakthroughs."  LeRoy said it casually in a conversation about goals and direction for the coming months.  I didn't volley hope back, but instead grasped desperate at the encouragement-laden words.

Maybe.  What if.  To be vulnerable enough to dream.  To be okay with outcomes I can't possibly anticipate... or with {gasp} dreaded outcomes.  Would it be the end of me?  And what if it were?  And what if all sense of self-preservation, this survivor mentality, was stripped away, leaving my heart exposed?  And what if all that I've held onto were left at the door, leaving nothing to hold onto but God and finding out that He's all I've ever needed.  To find out that all my successes and failures, performances and painful lack thereof were always superficial coverings after all.

What if I lived a naked existence... with the full on realization that I have everything I need.  It's more a statement than a question.

What if I show up in the moments of the day already full.  Filled with the abundance of Grace.  Grace tangible in the breaths I take, in each heartbeat.  Grace in the challenge and pursuit of dreams.  To let the moments stack up until Grace -- not performance -- is revealed.


Does this mean no more box-checking?  Could my day unfold naturally, holistically, without my manipulating and controlling... void of cancerous comparisons?  To live confidently on the offensive?  In complete freedom?

What if.

"Encountering the living God and receiving a fresh revelation of His heart both give us a greater hunger for freedom in our own lives and require us to 'set the captives free.'  This appetite drives us past the cultural norms and fuels us with supernatural courage...  Revival ignites life in people to press against the limitations and boundaries of society.  It calls to the deepest parts of mankind and screams 'Freedom!' so loudly that the same cry comes out of our mouths.

This is where we stand as a movement in our generation.  We are in the throes of a reformation.  No longer will we tolerate the status quo of an externally governed existence.  No longer will we accept training in powerlessness."    ~ Danny Silk, Culture of Honor

To dream big dreams just feels vulnerable.  Naked.  It's not really, though.  Right? 


"Sometimes that which ignites us with indignation burns a hole through the wall to a revelation."  ~ Beth Moore, Esther  

These are the questions I'm asking myself, (so I thought I'd ask you, too): What fuels your dreams?  What dreams feel so immense that they cause you to feel exposed?  What indignation has given you a revelation?  What are you doing about it?

Why I Go to Church But I'd Rather Be the Church

My sweet friend asked me the other day, "Sharon, where do you go to church?"  Ah, good question!  I replied that I don't really go to church anywhere.  At least I don't consider myself a "church attender" by my definition of what I think a church attender looks like.  Anyway, she e-mailed me a week later and asked me why I don't go to church.  Her note caused me to smile... and ponder for the duration of the day.  By evening, I decided to ask my friends the question that kept running through my mind.  I asked it via Facebook:

Why do you go to church?

Ah!  And so inspired am I by the passionate responses that I thought I'd share my subsequent thoughts here.  (I wouldn't ask you to go read the conversation on Facebook as I don't spend much time there myself... albeit I'm thankful for the connections with people I love... and feel especially appreciative of this most recent "conversation.")

"I believe the local Church is the hope of the world."  ~Bill Hybels


I believe that with all of my being and I shout a loud "Amen and amen!"

We pulled into Spokane, Washington on a typical Sunday afternoon this last August.  I dialed my in-love's phone number to get directions to their new house.  Aunt Kathy and Uncle Jake, the ones who raised my husband; the mother and father-in-laws I prayed for since I was twelve-years old.  "Do you think we'd have time to pick up our vehicle and still make it to the six o'clock service at Life Center?" I asked.  Our friends were special guests, sharing their passion and vision for Malawi, Africa, and we were hoping to get to hear them.  Besides... the whole Church... all our family... butterflies alighted in our stomachs, the way it happens when you're about to see someone who you haven't seen in what feels like forever, someone loved and treasured. 

Aunt Kathy's voice, soothing, perpetually solution-oriented, "No, I'm sorry.  Our house is too far away.  Is this something pretty important to you?"  I sighed quietly, letting go.  The butterflies didn't cease... in just minutes I'd throw my arms around this woman who occupies such a large portion of my heart.  And Uncle Jake, dear, precious Uncle Jake.  She finished giving directions as my sweet sister-in-law exited the freeway onto Maple Street.

A moment later the phone rang.  "We've figured out a way for you to be able to make it in time for the six o'clock service."  She told us where to meet them.  Told me they were bringing the vehicle to us.  I am overwhelmed by this tangible grace.  And so, minutes later we shared hugs all around, a couple of the children opting to go with Grandma and Grandpa while the rest of us went on to Life Center.

We pulled up just in time.  Holding hands, LeRoy and I and our two oldest children entered the enormous foyer, more like a great-room or family room, with its cafe table sets, sofas and armchairs.  Deliriously happy, we made our way toward the auditorium, where we could hear Pastor Joe introducing our friends.

But we never made it into the auditorium.  We met up with a friend coming out and stopped to talk.  And by the time we finished talking, our friends had finished their few minutes of sharing.  Though we know it was great... laughter bubbled all the way out into all the spaces.  That's the way they are.  Our friends.  Funny.  Courageous.  Faithful.  Fully alive... contagiously so.  They pushed open the double doors, entering the lobby all smiles and hugs and Amy's famous kiss on each cheek, the men doing the man-hug with slaps on the back.

Then it was another couple of hours of sitting on couches, putting our feet up on the ottoman, drinking coffee, catching up with so many friends passing through the commons area or coming there to loiter, to pass the time conversing, connecting, getting filled up, and pouring out... these people who have become family over the last eighteen years, dear loved ones who we've done life with together.

After a while I looked over to see a friend of ours talking to our boys at a nearby cafe table.  Their conversation appeared conspiratorial, them leaning in, our friend apparently asking questions as I watched my boy's expressions, thoughtful, somewhat serious, and then smiling broadly.  Some time later I looked over to see the same friend, his hands on their shoulders as he prayed for them.  Later I would ask them about the conversation and they would tell me he asked about their dreams, about their passions, that he prayed they would become mighty men for God.

And my heart... the seams pulled and stretched, me wondering how I'd keep from bursting with love... for this family... the local Church.

That week we got to spend more time with these people who mean so much to us... people we'll get to spend e t e r n i t y with -- such extravagant Grace! -- at the Global Summit Leadership Conference.  A conference with the vision "to transform Christian leaders around the world with an injection of vision, skill development, and inspiration for the sake of the local church."

Because we're passionate about the Church.

To say that I don't "go to church" isn't completely accurate, I suppose.  We went to church (buildings) three times in January.

One Sunday we went to Kingdom Hall with our friends who are Jehovah's Witnesses.  They came to our door sometime back in late August, asked if they could study the Bible with me.  They hardly finished speaking before I invited them in, made us all a cup of tea, began to get acquainted... to build relationships.  They've been coming to Church every Wednesday afternoon since.  (Since their religion doesn't permit them to go to any other other religion's church but their own, they won't attend a service in a building that we'd typically visit.  And this is that abundant Grace that lives in me, this Spirit of Love that loves through me, this lifelong adventure of being the Church... so that whoever I come in contact with... is visiting Church.  That makes my heart beat fast!  Lord, have mercy!)  So maybe Kingdom Hall didn't exactly count as church since our belief system isn't in accordance with theirs.  The important thing is that we were with people we genuinely love and care about.

Another Sunday we went to Trinity Baptist Church in the morning.  Got to be there to show our support for A. as she got to be baptized by her daddy.  Since she's only five-years old, he shared on her behalf a little about her spiritual journey...  It was the best part of my day!  The pastor spoke from Nehemiah and I was reminded about God's vision for our lives and His power to see that vision carried out.

But now I have to tell you... this is where my passion runs deep for the Church.  After the service was over, and we all stood there chit-chatting, (which, Lord help me, is constantly a source of anxiety for me), and my mind started to race, This can't be it!  This isn't Church!  A few praise songs, a Scripture reading, a sermon... though blessed by all these, Church isn't Church with me staring at the backs of the heads in front of me, (what? no eye contact?), wondering about the person's week next to me, wanting to know how God is moving, transforming, rocking these people's worlds, wanting to share my own experiences with my Lord and King over the past few days!  And so...  "What are your plans for lunch?"  I asked two families standing there.  When they said they didn't have plans, "Great!  Then will you join us for lunch at our house?  We'll have, um, uh, chicken salad sandwiches annnnnd, uhh, tomato soup.  LeRoy will run to the grocery store and we'll see you shortly.  Oh.  And here's our address.  ...And phone number in case you get lost."  You see, it seemed the only sensible thing to do.  Because God's heart is to enjoy intimacy with us... that must mean He wants us to share in-to-me-you-see with one another.  Right?

(By the way, my house was a big mess... which translated into more and more and more grace.)  

While going to church certainly has the potential to draw me closer to God's heart, it doesn't necessarily cause me to feel more "worshipful" or "closer to God."  Intimacy with Kingdom family who are Church draws me closer to God's heart.  Showing up in all my sloppy weaknesses and failures and knowing I'm loved for the mess that I am... receiving the gifts of grace and patience... receiving encouragement to press in to my Savior...  knowing we're sojourners on this adventure together...  This is the Hope of the world.  It's this Kingdom culture, this culture of honor that draws me to go to church to be with the Church.

I appreciate how my friend, Amy, said in our FB conversation, "I love when the Word of God is passionately changing me -- and without the body (the Church) -- it is a lonely journey."  Exactly.  The only thing I love more than a grand adventure... is experiencing a grand adventure with people I love.  Fellow sojourners.  The beautiful privilege of being together with other saints -- to be vulnerable, real -- to do life together.  Yes, an immense privilege!

And what about the sermon aspect of church?  Oh!  I love this part, too!  I feel like the pastor is talking just to me -- same as a concert, conference or a class -- but the person up front can share the message more efficiently than meeting with us individually over coffee to share the same thing he or she can share with 40, 150, or 5,000 at a time.  I just like it better when we can discuss it over lunch later.  That's all.     

The enduring weekly reminder to be the Church.  To meet once a week to get centered -- always, always with the focus to draw closer to God's heart.  Or, sometimes to draw my wandering heart back to God.  To challenge us to a higher standard.  To remind us to fill up on His Love daily so that we can pour out that which strengthens souls. 


Later that same day we went to the four o'clock service at the Chapel on Base where Chaplain Costin preached with both passion and compassion from Psalm 139 on the sanctity of life.  Again, what blessing and encouragement poured into my heart! 

God, you know me!  You knit me together in the womb!  You know my comings and my goings!  You see.  You know.  You know my insatiable appetite for depth and intimacy.  With You.  With people.  Savior, Jesus, help me dream bigger dreams.  Help me live a faith that is reckless, knowing You know all the details... knowing my messes don't scare You or overwhelm You.

So why do I go to church?  Because I'm drawn there by the overwhelming desire to spend time with really cool people who are as messy as me in this crazy world we live in.  People who are mutually passionate about living God-sized adventures.  People who get scared, lose faith, stumble, have foolishly arrogant moments, and walk in, grasping for Hope, (much like when Hope pulled Christian out of the Slough of Despondency in Pilgrim's Progress?).  My friend, Diana R. said, "...you realize how much your church family and attendance and being in his presence to worship with others who love him means to you and God."  What a privilege to be His Church.  What a responsibility we have to each other and to the world to be the Hope that pulls people out of a state of despondency!

I think the best example of why I go to church is the story of the time I saw my friend Marilyn R. in the Commissary (grocery store on Base).  We had only been here in Germany a few months and were just starting to get to know people.  A new couple who also recently arrived had visited our church the week before.  Since I didn't really know her as we had only briefly met, I glanced over and then quickly continued up the grocery aisle.  I stopped momentarily to find an item on the shelf and that's when I found myself in a holy moment.  The next thing I knew, Marilyn was there beside me, her beautiful Puerto Rican accent praising Jesus, me caught up in her motherly embrace.  She planted a kiss on my cheek and said, "Praise Jesus, I just had to come over here and give you a big hug!  I love you, Sister!  God loves you!  Praise Him!"  And then she walked away.  And I thought, I'll go to church where she goes.  Oh, wait!  How cool, she's goes to the same church as me!  I want to journey with the same Jesus she knows.  I want what she's having!  Praise Jesus!  And you know what, that wasn't just some weird moment for her... her and her husband and their teenage daughter live that all-out crazy-in-love-with-Jesus adventure faithfully, consistently.  They are the Church.

It's people like that that draw me into the presence of God, whether it's in a church building with a group of Christians, or it's just our family gathered for "pajama church," listening to Pastor Groeschel on LifeChurch.tv and praying for one another in the "hot seat."  Or on a hike with another family, admiring God's creation, discussing marriage, parenting, friendship, and how it all fits into the grand scheme of eternity.  Or sharing a meal with folks after the basketball game, the one where I worried over blowing our grocery budget for the week until Spirit reminded me that we are the Church meeting in J.R. Rockers for church and how during our time together we even made plans to visit Hamburg, (and possibly Denmark?), together.

Like one of my most favorite people on the planet said in our FB discussion, I go to church for "A million one reasons and counting..."  (Thank you, Uncle Brian.)  Another reason is for those hymns I am so passionate about!  Those hymns that I hum or sing all day long.  The ones I play on the piano during my personal worship times with Jesus.  How I'd love to hear the tenors, bass, and sopranos sing all three rousing verses of Wonderful Grace of Jesus!  If I close my eyes, I can still hear the harmony in our congregation when I was a child -- I'm sure it's a small sampling of what it will be like in heaven!

And do you remember this one?

Blest Be the Tie

Blest be the tie that binds Our hearts in Christian love;

The fellowship of kindred minds Is like to that above.

Before our Father's throne We pour our ardent prayers;

Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, Our comforts and our cares.

We share our mutual woes, Our mutual burdens bear;

And often for each other flows The sympathizing tear.

When we asunder part, It gives us inward pain; 

But we shall still be joined in heart, And hope to meet again.

~John Fawcett, 1740-1817

I am so grateful for the privilege and freedom to meet with Christians to read and study God's Word together.  What a joy to be able to live boldly, with conviction, without worry of persecution.  I hope that my life draws people to Jesus.  I pray that my testimony causes people to want to know Him and go deeper with Him.  Oh!  How I long  to step courageously, counter intuitively, passionately, full-on into living scandalous, tangible grace!  That my life might reflect gratitude.  To be the hope of the world.  That I would let Christ love His Church through me. 

I suppose sometimes that might be in a church building.  I'm okay with that.

Would you like to come over for lunch after? {humble wink} 

Books I recommend on the topic of living the passionate, adventurous life of a Christian, on Being the Church and leading others to passionately Be the Church:

It, How Churches and Leaders Can Get It and Keep It by Craig Groeschel

The Christian Athiest: Believing in God but Living As If He Doesn't Exist by Craig Groeschel 

Change Your Church for Good by Brad Powell

The Tangible Kingdom, Creating Incarnational Community by Hugh Halter and Matt Smay

Real Church: Does It Exist?  Can I Find It? by Larry Crabb

One Million Arrows, Raising Your Children to Change the World by Julie Ferwerda

Do Hard Things, A Teenage Rebellion Against Low Expectations by Alex and Brett Harris

True Religion, Taking Pieces of Heaven to Places of Hell on Earth by Palmer Chinchen 

The Hole In Our Gospel: What Does God Expect of Us?  The Answer That Changed My Life and Might Just Change the World by Richard Stearns

Radical: Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream by David Platt

Mission Statement

LeRoy hands me a hot mug, the aroma of the coffee and thin wisp of steam invoking tangible grace.  A tow-headed child peeks around the corner, his smile and boy-man "Good morning" whispering tangible grace.

The lavish breakfast cooked up by husband and son working side by side.  The plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns handed to me by my oldest boy after he asks me, "Can I serve you, Mom?"  Tangible grace.  All our family's values condensed into tangible, concrete motions.

Our original mission statement sits on a shelf near our dining room table... rarely noticed in spite of its visibility.  Wordy.  Somewhat abstract.  The bull's eye too obscure.

Perhaps we'll improve our aim with a clearer target?  This crazy grace.  And it's all grace, isn't it?

When I set it back up on the shelf, I realize the old mission statement ink shows through the paper.  I consider removing the old one from the frame completely and then decide that it's perfect how it is.  What better way to be reminded of this ongoing transformation than to see Grace placed boldly over the top of all my well-intentioned, grandiose "statements."

It's a gorgeous, (and rare) clear day today.  We're headed over to a friend's house... to take a long hike through the woods.  They called a while ago to ask if we would stay on to have dinner with them.

The grace of it all just makes me smile and smile.

Be the Hero

"But that's just the thing, Mom," passion rolls down one cheek, his lip quivers, "I'm not sure who my heroes are."  This being one of those conversations that churns a slow churn in my mind for the next few months.  Who were my heroes at his age?  My aunts and uncles on the Whitworth side.  My grandparents.  My piano teacher.  I had outgrown Wonder Woman and Cinderella.  I remember looking for the real thing, too.

I remember thinking that maybe I wasn't created just to be happy or have stuff.  That maybe I could actually be of some use to the world.  The adults in my life kept telling me that I was "created for a purpose."  And so, I set out on a quest to discover how I might make a dent for justice in the world's craziness.

But the spirit is a tender thing, isn't it?  And dreams get boxed, framed in the "truth of reality."  And what can make the heart beat fast for right, for justice, one moment, can be numbed by the "get real" and you've-got-your-head-in-the-clouds distractions all round. 

And so, after much thinking and prayer, I share the conversation from weeks before with the whole family.  I tell them, "I think you need to trust that God will put heroes in your life along the way but that you're supposed to focus on being the hero."  The dialogue turns lively as I attempt to stoke the spirit, pour fuel on dreams, praying that purpose and passion keep complacency from boxing what can be.

Hope rises as we speak courage into one another, affirming, "You are my hero!" and, "Well, let me tell you why you're my hero, too!"  Reminders of who we are in Christ, that nothing is impossible with God, restores vision.  Replenishes a sense of wonder.

Yet, even with my passion for all things words, splashed generously across pages in books, in beloved letters received joyously in mailbox, spoken over one's mind to set deep in the soul, I am exasperated by words.  Because without actually going out onto the field to face into the struggle, locker room pep talks fall flat.  I'm tired of the hype.  I want to change.  Really change.  Not just talk about dreams placed in the heart, but actually live them.  Powerfully.  Purposely.

My friend, Kenna, always challenged my verbalizing of lofty goals with, "How are you going to measure that?"  Indeed.  And isn't this the way to make the moments count all the way into eternity? 


"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."  ~Psalm 90:12
 

I start to break it down, to make it measurable, realizing -- this painstakingly slow realization -- that taking one measurable step after another leads one to heroically live beyond oneself, to be in that place where a dream becomes humanly impossible, but completely possible through His Spirit.

To live in that place where faith produces courage to step into the God-gap, that place where a full surrender is, like my sweet friend, Jeri, told me the other day, that moment where the launch into the atmosphere takes our breath away.

Oh!  How I long to live with complete abandon!  To be the kind of mama who demonstrates by example -- instead of lengthy monologues -- what it means to be the hero!  I long to change this year, to grow in areas where I've previously stayed grounded because it was safer, calmer, more manageable.  I want to take back the territories I gave to fear.   

"Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."  ~Matthew 19:26

In a series of sprints with a marathon or two thrown in along the way, (metaphorically speaking, of course), I'm learning to dream far bigger than what I can "realistically" manage, taking one measurable step at a time, longing to leave a wake of integrity and faith.  Perhaps a wake in which one following behind might find courage?

"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  ~Philippians 3:14 

*Photos of oldest son, Eli, whose courage, kindness, patience, sense of humor, vision, faith, sense of justice and inner strength makes him one of my greatest heroes.  Not just me, but to siblings with trembling passion, too!  First photo: at the Heidelberg Castle in Heidelberg, Germany; Second photo: roasting marshmallows in G'ma Kathy's backyard in Spokane; Third photo: running with the iron statues in Riverfront Park in Spokane, Washington.