instead of pursuing happiness

When I first met the man I would one day marry, I feared I was too young to settle down. There was so much that I had yet not done. He met me at a time in my life when my future stretched grandly in front of me. I had visions of living abroad, learning new languages, traveling the world on a budget, meeting interesting foreigners, and practicing a life of abandon that both honored God and gave me global experiences.

It was still in the early days of the relationship, however, when I wondered if, despite the many unfinished goals on my list, God might be intentionally pairing us. He had put a man in front of me who shared so many of my dreams. Travel and global adventures being a few of them.

In our first years of marriage, he challenged my ideas in the best of ways and took me to places I had never heard of before. We honeymooned on the Cook Islands, got our scuba certificates on the island of Utila (Honduras), served on medical mission teams in rural El Salvador, and in between jobs spent 3 months backpacking through Europe sleeping on trains and in some of the dumpiest hotels imaginable.

That was all before children entered the picture. Something happens to those dreams of wild and unconventional adventures when our families start to grow. We begin to pursue stability and consistency, schedules and routines, dependability and sleep. Mostly we pursue all things related to sleep. Stability is a necessity of survival during the little years.

Last week, my husband and I celebrated 13 years of marriage. I like this photo from our date night out because we look happy. And we are happy... mostly. Happiness doesn't happen on its own though.

In fact, we have spent the majority of the past year in conversations together processing some of the deeper issues of what this life should be all about. We find ourselves in a place with much of that dearly sought stability... with a house, and a big yard, and two cars, and three kids, and a good school, and nice friends, and a Bible-teaching church. This is what it looks like to live the quintessential American dream. We can feel immensely grateful for the blessings of this season in our life, at the same time as we wrestle with that niggling feeling in our hearts that this isn't the end of the story for us. Because never have we been fooled into thinking that pursuing the American dream is what makes "happy".

There was that time in my youth when I saw myself as an adventurous go-getter, but someone much more subdued has emerged out of me in these recent years of raising small children. Anything outside of our routine, that doesn't involve staying at home, with access to my car, and the closet full of entertaining toys for the kids, and the familiarity of my community just sounds really hard to me.

Perhaps it is for this reason that my personal journey this year has been to surrender more. That journey, and my husband's own mid-life "reflection", as we have come to call it, is leading us to let go of some of our so called stability in order to make room for the next thing God might have for us. We are being challenged not to fall into the trap of pursuing the things that deceptively lure us to a place we never intended to end up. Anything other than God that begins to master or motivate us can become a false promise to perceived happiness.

Our trust and hope cannot rest in the pursuit of stability, or the pursuit of empty promises, or even in the pursuit of happiness itself. More accurately, happiness comes as a kind of by-product to the pursuit of God's best. When we are becoming who God uniquely and individually created us to be, fulfilling our purpose in Him, then sometimes along the way we are gifted with that wonderfully warm feeling called "happy". The hard days still exist, but perhaps happiness finds us a little more often when the dreams we are pursuing mostly belong to God.

My husband continues to challenge and stretch my ideas, and he gets the major credit for what we are about to do next. I am not ready to reveal here on this public space quite yet, but keep checking back! Thirteen years into our marriage, another great adventure awaits. In fact, after thirteen years, the adventures just keep getting better... stay tuned for more details!

In the meantime, here are some photos of our past weekend/anniversary/family trip to a place that gives me a glimpse into God's incredible imagination - Yosemite National Park.

Upper and Lower Yosemite Falls at peak water flow due to snow melt
- the tallest falls in the United States with a vertical drop of 2425 feet.

resurrection sunday

There is no testimony like that of a child, whose innocence and sincerity cannot be argued with.

This year, Annike (my oldest), created a set of Resurrection Eggs with her class as a craft. Prior to this year I was only vaguely familiar with the concept of Resurrection eggs. To briefly explain, they offer a visual and hands-on way to tell the story of Jesus' death and resurrection using a dozen plastic eggs. Each plastic egg contains an object that represents one piece of the story, beginning with Jesus' entry into Jerusalem on a donkey and ending with the empty tomb. A perfect way to engage children in the story and make a connection between plastic eggs and Jesus Christ.

After Easter dinner, 12 of my family members and welcome friends lounged around our dining table, scraping at our plates and searching for room to stuff down more food. Annike was dying to share her craft and present the Jesus story to our table of guests. Eventually plates were cleared, and eyes turned to my 7-year-old.

She passed the Resurrection eggs around hot potato style, one at a time. In turn each egg was opened, revealing a palm leaf, a communion cup, 30 pieces of money, a cross fashioned from nails, a crown of thorns... all the pieces that tell the story.

Sommer (age 4) was in on the story having previously practiced with her sister. Giggling with glee at each new reveal, she wanted to give away the secrets contained in the eggs. Delighted squeals escaped saying, "The next egg is my favorite!" Her jubilant laughter was contagious.

The final egg was passed, and opened. Wait - is it EMPTY?

A four-years-old's excitement burst into the room as the joyful innocence of my most animated child could no longer be contained. Sommer squealed with conviction, "It's empty because Jesus isn't there anymore! He escaped from the tomb!! He's ALIVE!!!"

There were a few teary eyes at the table. No one can argue with a four-year-old who knows that she knows that she knows the truth about the greatest act of love shown to the world. She is loved. She believes.

He is risen, indeed.

Mine with new baby cousin!

My side of the family together for Easter.

surrender continued

There are sounds of sweet giggles coming from the other room, little voices playing. The 4-year-old is mothering the 2-year-old who is pretending to be her pet puppy. Two little children playing beautifully with each other... until, suddenly, they are not.

The music in my ears has quickly become shrieks, and thumps, and crying, and "that's MINE!" yelled with ferocious intensity. Best friends or worst enemies... they don't always bring out the best in each other.

It amazes me how children don't realize how much they love a toy until they have to let go of it. We all have to start out somewhere on our journey of letting go of things. The question ringing in my heart is: Where does it end?

I am pleased to report that I have made it past the toy stage, and I have no trouble handing over colorful plastic animals and other things used for the make believe world. If it has no practical purpose I am happy to share, toss, or pass it on. Instead, I have graduated to learning to let go of much bigger items and aspects of my life.

At the onset of the new year, I shared about my word for the year: surrender. This word translated into a simple discipline of daily prayer for me. Each day I asked God to reveal the thing in my heart that I was hanging onto most tightly. Once identified, I continued to pray over it until I felt the freedom to let it go. After a few days of basking in my new freedom over the surrender of one item, God would begin to reveal a new one to me, in which I began the process over again. And then again, and then again.

It was all very well and good when I could see things in my heart that shouldn't be there. I didn't want unfounded fears to hold me back from God's best, and my honest desire was to hand things like that over. Even though it took work, it felt good.

But now I have gotten in really deep. Things are getting harder than I initially envisioned. I am being asked to surrender more than I expected, including aspects of my life that are positive and I believed were healthy. Things like relationships and future plans. They aren't the kind of things you can buy again at the store, and quite frankly, I am a little afraid to fully trust God with them. What if I never get them back?

We are only 3 months into the year 2016, but I am finding that there seems to be no ending place in this journey to surrender. The more my eyes are opened to the things I need to let go of, the more I realize there is no going back.

A small sampling of some specifics, and what I am learning in the process, as I am challenged in...

* ... surrendering fear of working too hard - Life seems hard enough just living "normal". Adding any big change or any new goals sounds like a lot of work! BUT I have never been a lazy person, so why would I let a little hard work prevent me from moving into something better?

* ... surrendering fear of my life not looking normal - What is "normal" anyway? The American dream easily becomes a crutch as we pursue the next thing that makes our lives more comfortable. Especially with kids, it is so easy to get caught up in "creating a future" for them. BUT those are not the dreams I want my children to chase when they grow up. Why would we raise them to be "normal" if we don't want them to pursue that kind of normal when they are older?

* ... surrendering the approval of others - Any people pleaser has trouble surrendering approval. We want to live in a world where everyone agrees with us, supports us, and there isn't any conflict. It makes us easy-going and likeable. However, making decisions can be devastating because there are people who stand on all sides of a decision and someone is inevitably left disappointed, hurt, angry, or simply with a lack of understanding. BUT Jesus was the greatest example of someone who lived to a standard that pleased God instead of others. He prioritized fulfilling His God-given purpose and remained full of integrity, gentleness, love, and kindness. Would He have had the same impact if He had worried about what His family thought of Him?

* ... surrendering Christian community - We have a community of friends who have long been steadfast encouragers to us and it would break my heart to be separated from those friendships, even for a short time. BUT our long term purpose in relationships is not to be simply fulfilled by comfortable friendships. It is instead to show compassion and love to those who don't have it. Could releasing close relationships create space in our lives to foster new relationships with those of greater need?

* ... surrendering writing time - The rare moments when our house is somewhat quiet, and the chores are mostly done, and I have deeper thoughts to process, are when I steal away to write on this blog. These stolen moments have been a great gift to me during the years of raising little children when intellectual conversation is a non-existent part of my day. I selfishly covet, and grasp for, and love this time by myself that offers me some greater purpose outside of our household. BUT God has greater purpose for me yet, and isn't quite through with me. Could it be that letting go of my need for this time might usher in room for greater purpose still?

Many of these things I am letting go of are inherently GOOD things that make for a rich life. I am learning, though, that sometimes a thing can seem so perfect that it becomes more important than trusting God. A thing can be so good that it becomes an area that hinders us from walking into something better.

Perhaps God is challenging my priorities not because they are bad in themselves, but because of the way it will form and shape my character. The same way that I teach my children to share a toy, not because I care who was holding it first, or whose name is written on the tag, but because of the bigger lesson learned in letting go.

"But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 

I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which 

God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

Philippians 3:13-14

~ What might God be challenging you to surrender today? ~

the next thing

God has been teaching me about the word “overwhelmed” lately.

It is a word that creeps into many crevices of my life. I get overwhelmed by the messy condition of my home. I get overwhelmed by the behavior of my 4-year-old who seems to have more stamina for throwing tantrums than I do for disciplining. I get overwhelmed by the number of people to whom I should reach out, or return phone calls, or have over for dinner. I get overwhelmed by the projects that need doing that I will never have time to do in the foreseeable future. I even get overwhelmed at the grocery store by the sheer number of cereal boxes there are to choose from in every size and sugar level.

Feeling overwhelmed makes me shut down. I can't do anything very well when I am consumed by the feelings of all that looms too largely in front of me.

Then lately, there is this thought, that maybe the feeling of being overwhelmed isn't something I should entertain. Maybe it isn't from God. Maybe it is something that has worked against me my whole life in order to see me so stopped up by the daily chores that I would never consider do something grandly outside of myself for the love of Christ. 

You see, I also get overwhelmed by the dreams I believe God might be putting in my heart. Too big, too lofty, too hard, too impractical, too far to go from here, too unrealistic at this life stage.

A message has been echoing through the corners of my mind over the last few weeks, originally beginning with the words of Jennie Allen whose gift is sincerity of heart. The message is to begin by being faithful with whatever is the next thing. 

Don't look down the road at the things I might sacrifice or count the ways I am incapable. Simply be faithful with the next thing. Do what God wants for today. When the thing after that comes along, be faithful with that too. 

When I am overwhelmed by the disaster in my kitchen, I take a deep breath and dive into one task at a time. First clear the table. Then put the food away. Move the dishes to the sink. Wipe down counter tops. Do the next thing, and then the thing after that. After inevitable interruptions occur, return and press on. 

Wouldn't it make sense to pursue God with the same faithful step by step approach?

The next thing might be making a phone call, or it might be sitting down to read a book with a child who dearly craves attention. It might be doing dishes with joy. It might be something bigger like saying yes to leading a Bible study, or it might not.

The thing I am seeing clearly is that faithfulness starts little. Following after God's heart is not an overwhelming task looming before us. It has always been simple, requiring little, offering much.

"Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much..." 

Luke 16:10 

"It is like a mustard seed,

which is the smallest seed you plant in the ground. 

Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, 

with such big branches that the birds of the air can perch in its shade."  

Mark 4:31, 32

valentine repeat

Is anyone else thankful that Valentine's Day isn't on a school day this year?  

Below is a repost of something I hope to never repeat. Maybe I just need to remind myself not to strive? 

I wish you all stress-free, love-full, Valentine's days! 

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It's the second week of February and I am having nightmares of last year's Valentine's Day when I got a crazy notion that I should send a snack into the kindergarten Valentine's party that was both healthy AND cute. Yes, I do know that no child willingly chooses a healthy option at a class party. Still, we have our motherly ambitions.

Enter Pinterest, with its eye candy photos and links to the unimaginable. Pinterest and its simple inspirations for every occasion. HA! I settled on yogurt parfaits with blueberry and strawberry toppings in a waffle cone. The picture was adorable. All of the ingredients were readied the night before and I woke up early on the day of the party to be sure I had enough time to assemble the treats.

Friends, Pinterest is not mother-tested. I knew we were in trouble as my husband was carrying the parfaits out the front door in my clever egg carton carrying case. It was too late. We were already committed. I tried to ignore the wavering waffle cones, slightly losing their shape as the moisture began to soak through. I wanted to hope for the best. Let's just push them lower down into the carrier, I suggested as I ushered my husband out the door with the treats and my daughter, Can't be late for school drop-off on a special day like today!

After the ten minute car ride only half of the waffle cones looked edible. By the time the party rolled around mid-day, the entire tray of soggy mess had to be tossed. My contribution to the class festivities went directly into the trash can. Nowhere, I repeat NOWHERE, did the Pinterest-popular recipe mention that these treats must be eaten within 5 minutes of assembly lest they collapse and taste like a leftover bowl of cereal. That kind of information is apparently not Pinterest-worthy.

I had a similar experience making cake pops for my daughter's birthday. I will spare you the details, but if you want to know what happened just try making your own cake pops. If I ever want cake pops again, I WILL BUY THEM. They are worth every penny. (In defense of the cake pops, they at least still tasted good after falling apart.)

All this striving to impress 5 and 6-year-olds. The same 5 and 6-year-olds who have glue dripping off of every project and who don't always feel like coloring in the lines. The ones who are still learning to make their letters all the same size. The ones who think that when it comes to glitter or sprinkles, more is always better. Or was it really to impress them?

The worst part of these experiences was the way the word "failure" played on repeat in my head. There was the failure to create what I intended to create. There was also the failure to create the perception of perfection.

Pinterest gets a lot of slack for causing feelings of inadequacy in those of us who are less-than-perfect. For example, me. Pinterest itself is not doing anything inherently wrong. Pinterest only represents the ideology of women in my generation:  appear creative, original, trendy, or a perfect blend of healthy and cute, in order to give the illusion that we have it all together.

I am here to tell you that the perfect blend of healthy and cute does not exist. I do not, and will never, have it all together. I am admittedly far less-than-perfect. As proof, I will stand proudly behind my Pinterest failures and hope it sparks change in the ideology women subscribe to. There should be no more sleep lost or wrinkles gained over achieving an illusion. Failed crafts and projects do not define me, and neither do successful ones. I would much rather be known at school as the mother who would never judge others for their lack of presentation. The mother who would laugh at and learn from mistakes made, full of grace for all, especially herself.

For Valentine's Day this year, instead of Pinterest-perfect try something tested by time... like candy hearts and a paper Valentine. It just might be the most original thing the kids at school have ever seen.

This post originally appeared on A Child's Eyes Blog on February 11, 2015.

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surrender

I love coming off of the craze of the holiday season into the month of January. Back in the beginning of December, I loved putting out all of my Christmas decorations. But come January, I am so ready to put them away. They have become clutter, and I am in a new mindset to welcome clean spaces, empty tabletops, and a renewed sense of order.

December lacked routine.
January is predictable.
December revolved around us, and ourselves, and our holiday do list.
January can be less selfish.
December's schedule was packed full of parties and extra school duties and shopping for that last minute something or other.
January's schedule is crisp and clean and open.
December was the end of a year, and we crammed it full of whatever energy we had in us.
January is the beginning of a year and we start fresh.

December is that month when everything is so fun and so full that I lose track of where I am going and can't hang onto my priorities because they are trumped by the fun and the fullness. January is that month when I can re-calibrate my compass, find due north, and set myself on a path once more headed in the right direction. It takes the chaos of December to create desire for the peace and focus of January.

We came out of our December and left almost immediately for family vacation in Kauai. Of course it was a fabulous way to spend time with each other, at the beach, in the pool, sunrise to sunset, all the time together...
... all the time together, but no time to stop and process as I so desperately need in a January. Being together is a wonderful priority and privilege, but there is a lot of noise and chaos involved. Being together as a family often rules out thinking clearly.

Until this one glorious day when my husband released me to nature. My parents and a dear friend and I hiked 4 miles of the Kalalau Trail along the edge of the rugged cliffs of the Napali Coast to a remote beach. The trail begins where the island roads end. The only way to see this particular backdrop of turquoise water, green foliage, and deep red mud is by foot or by boat.

It felt like such a luxury to me to hike being responsible for only myself. I carried my own sandwich, bottle of water, and camera. That was IT! No snacks for days that no one will eat, or diapers, or wipes, or jackets in case of cold, or sunscreen or crayons and other forms of entertainment they usually don't end up using. I sure love my kids, but it felt right to soak up the blessing of being without them for a few hours.

My friend and I talked every step of the 3 hour hike, sharing our individual struggles, and what God has been doing in us over the last season, and what God is forming anew in our hearts. Every turn in the conversation was covered in truth and depth. I felt only mildly sorry for the strangers on the trail stuck in front of us while we possibly shared a little too loudly about our deepest passions. Only a little sorry for them. The rest of me hopes those individuals went home to find out more about this God who has changed our lives so dramatically.

The whole experience cleared a space in my head. Some puzzle pieces clicked into place about my past while a gentle lantern cast a glow on my future. It was a turning point for me in feeling ready to move into this new year.

Specifically, I felt the whisper of the word SURRENDER over my life... surrender. It's going to be my word for this year.

Surrender my dreams to a God who dreams bigger than I do.

Surrender the stereotypes of conventional Christian living in America to a God who created the very values themselves.

Surrender the lives of my family to a God who loves them even more than I do.

Surrender my idea of safety to a God who is most certainly wonderful and dangerous at the same time.

Surrender the fears I have... of failing, of working too hard for something, of disapproval in others, of being uncomfortable... of getting to the end of my life and looking back with regret over not having lived more boldly.

Surrender with open hands to the authority of a God who understands things I can never fathom.

It is a word that comes partially out of looking back at this past year we have had. It is strange to think that only one year ago in January we were just beginning to toy with the crazy notion that we should sell our lovely farm in the country with the historic red barn and acres of land where my kids ran free. At the time, I didn't understand how attached I had grown. It was a place we had revived from dirt and dilapidation, painting every surface, redoing every floor, reviving every bathroom. We had made it our own, but somewhere along the way it began to own us.

The process of letting go was both hard and healing at the same time (see the link to read that particular story.) It didn't fully become clear until later, but letting go of that place ushered in a kind of healthy freedom. The difference between saying that our things don't define us, and then acting on the removal of some of those things. It caused a weight loss of sorts.

Now there is this tug in my heart not to stop there. It felt so good to relinquish control of something big, but I realize that was only the tip of the iceberg. There is the reality of fear, and the conventional practical living details that are in conflict with a life lived in true surrender to a God who is never confined by convention. All this clutter is in my heart and I am clinging to it tightly. He is a gracious God in that He doesn't reveal it all at once, but slowly peels back the layers. Will I say yes to opening my clenched fists? Will my husband and I, together, say yes?

And still the whisper... to surrender. What if the miracle cure is in the letting go of more things that I love?

I am not sure where this journey in surrender is going to take me, and I feel a little nervous about my ability to remain faithful to this call. There is an understanding, however, that God wants to do something big with my life. The word "big" isn't going to be defined by the world necessarily... it doesn't mean fame or success or notability. Perhaps the word "big" is going to pertain to what God wants to do in my heart, and as a waterfall effect, the hearts of those around me including my children and family.

I will leave with this quote that someone recently reminded me about from C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It is said about Aslan, the lion who plays the part of Jesus in the allegory. It is a reminder to let go of what is safe and follow more closely after what is good.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "...Who said anything about safe?
'Course he isn't safe. But he's good.
He's the King, I tell you."

Surrender [suh-ren-der] :
1) to yield something to the possession or power of another. 2) to give oneself up. 3) to give up, abandon, or relinquish.
(www.dictionary.com)

sunrise

On the final day of Christmas vacation, I sat alone on the beach watching the sun rise over a pink-edged cloud hanging low over the ocean on an eastern shore in Kauai. We took the family for a week of respite, and this particular morning on the beach was part of my respite from them.

After watching the pink lining on a thunder cloud in the distance for a while, the sun finally emerged a giant sorbet pink and orange. I can't describe the color. It was so much larger than usual. I perched on a rock trying to capture the enormous size of the sun with my camera, without success.

That has happened to me before when I futilely attempt to take a picture of an exceptionally large moon, hanging bright and bold just above the edge of the world. The photo never looks like anything special, showing a tiny bright dot in a dark sky. I usually toss them. Why is it so hard to capture the size of an impressive object in the sky?

On this sun-spectacular morning the phenomenon spoke of God. He too defies being captured. God almighty, exceptionally large, boldly brilliant, full and indescribable. Sometimes we just have to experience how big He is for ourselves.

God has been showing Himself to be big to me lately. Big in a way that I can't describe, and I suppose you may just have to experience it for yourself. As God gets bigger I am realizing that this life I live keeps getting smaller. The problems that plague me, the issues I wrestle with, and the daily troubleshooting that frustrates me seem to diminish before the vast magnificence of God. He becomes more important while my problems become less important.

I know that the sun and the moon don't really change sizes. It is simply that at certain times I experience them to be bigger than usual. I always believed it was an illusion caused by the magnification of the earth's atmosphere, but I recently learned that this explanation is a myth. The phenomenon remains definitively unexplained. It struck me strange that with all of our scientific advances and knowledge of physics and illusions, after centuries of observation scientists still cannot conclusively explain the reason that at certain times the moon (or sun in my case) appears to be larger than usual.

Perhaps it needs to be looked at the other way around. The sun and the moon in reality are enormous, so much bigger than we can comprehend from afar. Perhaps we are not wrong in observing them large on a rare occasion, but wrong in observing them small on a regular basis. As with God. Perhaps we are forgetful of His true size and once in a while need to remember that He is so much bigger than we can fathom.

I want the year 2016 to be marked as a year of witnessing God in His fullest, biggest, brightest, most brilliant.