I cry fairly often when God speaks to me.  Sometimes they're sweet tears, where I'm reminded of his goodness and love. Other times they're desperate tears when I feel so far from who I want to be and what I want to do.  This morning at church it was no different. He was talking to me and I was crying.  He was reminding me of things he's spoken before and bringing hope and new ideas. Sometimes I can cry discretely and other times, not so much. Today was one of the latter. I had to put my head down and let my face contort, let my body give in to the cries. My spirit feels like it's being kneaded right now. Like it's in his hands and he's gently but firmly doing the work that only he can do to create something beautiful. Some of the beautiful things I've been wanting more of are love (the kind that takes action), peace (the kind that stands tall in the face of stressful situations), and inspired thoughts (the kind that show me what my hands and feet can do in the here and now to be fully alive and in step with God).

So after my sobbing fest, worship was coming to a close, and I was becoming aware of the fact that snot was running free, I had no tissues, and I was sure mascara was wildly strewn all around my eyes. I wanted to be able to make myself presentable.  As soon as I had these thoughts I heard the Holy Spirit interject. He was wondering why I felt the need to erase all evidence of my brokenness. Why did I want to make it look nothing had happened?  He was expanding this little lesson. I started asking myself, why in my daily life do I try to compose myself in a way that erases the evidence of my brokenness and dependence on God? Or the way he affects me? Can I learn to allow myself to live connected to my vulnerability and weakness in a way that allows all the strength of God's love, mercy, and hope to pour into and out of me?  Because this is what I want. Really, really badly. I want to live minute by minute aware that I'm connected to everything He's strong in. That there's no aspect of my life that has to remain unaffected by him and the endless possibilities he offers. No parenting situation, no business situation, no marriage situation, no financial situation, no future uncertainty...nothing.

I feel "undone" by God's love and grace regularly. He's so good and so kind. And I've always wanted everyone to know it and experience it as well. But I'm not great at letting what I experience come out of me in non-church settings.  I want to blow my nose and wipe away the mascara so to speak and then try and present myself in a normal, acceptable way. But what if the way I respond to God with tears and that feeling of being undone is meant to be shared in all it's snotty, mascara smeared glory?  And not just at church but with people I interact with on a daily basis. Not that I'm going to go sobbing to everyone I meet, but more so in the way I hold my heart. Am I willing to gush about Jesus? About how he is smiling over us and offers a peace we can't buy anywhere? Am I willing to live like Jesus, to have eyes that really see people and their needs? To be moved with compassion to act on their behalf no matter how foolish or vulnerable I may feel.

I'm tired of talking and thinking about who I want to be and what I want to do. I want to just do it. To just be it. Genuinely. I don't know where all of this is going to lead and how I'll be putting action to these words. But I do know I feel his hands holding my heart and he's so kindly kneading it. And I know he'll continue to knead it as long as I let him. I know that he has led me from a place of feeling like I needed to save the world to a place of being happy to be the one saved. That I no longer feel obligated to change people. I get it, that's his job. He's the love, the joy, the peace. And since I'm in him, I want to be that everywhere, in every situation. Not for any other reason except that this is my reality. Not an agenda, not a "how to" for being the best Christian, but simply this is life as a follower and friend of Jesus. As one who has been with him. Who's eaten his food, drank his wine, enjoyed his company.  

My house

Out of the blue, we are seriously looking at putting our house up for sale as soon as possible, with the hopes of it selling by the summer. It's strange how there are always a million options in our lives but until you have a specific, new idea, the current plan just seems like your only option.  About a week ago, Josh brought up the idea of trying to sell this summer instead of next summer and honestly my first reaction was, no way, that's not going to happen. I knew we were going to move, most likely in about a year and a half. A change like that felt exciting and sat comfortably in me when it was still seemingly far away. But putting it on the table for now, well that was completely different.

I was surprised by how unsettled it first made me. I think I pride myself on being up for most anything and I'm not terribly afraid of change. But it hit me hard that we were going to be the ones to sell the house my parents bought when my mom was pregnant with me, 36 years ago this spring. The house where all of my childhood memories happened. And now for six years it's been the home my children have known and we've made our own memories. I think of the community of people who have come through this house, the people my parents invited in. I think about all the sleepovers, birthday parties, and late night talks that have happened in these walls. So many wonderful conversations, so many dreams, so many experiences of God speaking his goodness. It makes me feel so full of emotion. The kind where it's in your throat, not quite spilling over yet.

I love this house. I love that I had a great childhood here, filled with wonderful family and friends. I love that I've been able to share this house with my family. That my kids have played in the same leaves I did, and have waded in the same creek. I love shared experiences.

But I also love new adventures. I love good change. I love the idea of not having to drive an hour and a half taking kids to and from school each day. It's fun to think of living more in the country and close to a lot of friends.

Who knows what will happen, even if we put it up for sale, we won't be in control of when it sells. I think that'll be comforting in a way. We'll do our part and then see what happens. But when it does sell, I know one thing for sure. I'll be sad, and I'll cry. I'll grieve what was, even as I look forward to what is coming.

My soul feels so satisfied right now. There's such a deep knowing that all is well when it comes to what is eternal. I was thinking about this the other night and overcome with gratefulness. I believe it was the Father who then spoke the words in my mind, "You've come home". And that's exactly what it feels like. I'm at home. I'm at home with my Father's overwhelming love for me. Even though I've always known him, my identity was more wrapped up in what I could do for him rather than who He wanted to be to me. I've come home and my Dad has thrown a party. I'm in agreement in a deeper way that all He is and all He has, is mine, because I'm His. It's like my spirit is shouting yes! I believe you. Not because I should, but because I actually do. I feel settled, like Someone's perfectly strong, capable hand is resting on my heart. I'm not alone, trying to do what I can with my goodness. I'm overcome by His goodness. I feel rich and I'm eating the best food.

I've read so many Bible verses for so many years and believed them the best that I could. But now I keep having those moments where what I'm experiencing is what I've read about in the Bible and inside I'm jumping up and down shouting, "this is what that is".  Even as I'm writing now, so many past prayers are coming to mind. Things I've told God I wanted to experience. And this is that. Man it's overwhelming in the most wonderful way. I'm blown away by His faithfulness. He is so kind and so patient. And He holds my heart so gently. I feel so taken care of by Him. It's so good to be the kid and let Him be the parent. I've desperately wanted to know how to receive like this, to rest like this. And now the tears won't stop.