I took a picture of my ceiling on Sunday. Because I'm strange. But also because I was so thankful to be home. In my own bed. Staring at my own ceiling. We had the best time away as a family, but ten days is a long time to be gone, and I am glad to be home. Glad we went. Glad we came back!
"I. Do. Not. Want. To. Swim." He mouthed the words dramatically and emphatically because he was looking up at me behind the second story viewing window at his swim lesson. It was both heartbreaking and hilarious. I smiled and gave him a thumbs up as the teacher (who could actually use words) coaxed him back to the water.
I started training for a triathlon. Today I ran for fifty minutes. I’ve been training slowly enough that I really can run for fifty minutes. But I get bored. And I have to play mind-games. Run 30 minutes. Then run 10 minutes past this spot. After that turn around and run 15 minutes in the other direction. Then run 5 minutes back, and you’ll be at your car.
I started training for a triathlon. Today I ran for fifty minutes. I’ve been training slowly enough that I really can run for fifty minutes. But I get bored. And I have to play mind-games. Run 30 minutes. Then run 10 minutes past this spot. After that turn around and run 15 minutes in the other direction. Then run 5 minutes back, and you’ll be at your car.
I wrote the following several months ago, for a women’s retreat at our church. But I’ve been thinking about it again and again since then. I’ve said it here a few times, how grateful I am that God’s faithfulness doesn’t depend on our ability to have faith. We keep thinking that He’s waiting on our faith to invite Him to be faithful. Could it be instead that His faithfulness is our invitation to faith? That the reality of His trustworthiness is an invitation for us to trust?
I wrote the following several months ago, for a women’s retreat at our church. But I’ve been thinking about it again and again since then. I’ve said it here a few times, how grateful I am that God’s faithfulness doesn’t depend on our ability to have faith. We keep thinking that He’s waiting on our faith to invite Him to be faithful. Could it be instead that His faithfulness is our invitation to faith? That the reality of His trustworthiness is an invitation for us to trust?
Last Friday, some friends and I floated down the Comal River. It’s a big thing to do in Texas, and I never had. It was a lot of fun! It was also a lot of work. I fluctuated back and forth between “I’m so relaxed” and “I’m so exhausted.”
On June 23, 2015, I signed my name and accepted the terms of employment. I signed my name and accepted, or maybe declared, the conclusion of a season.365. That's how many days were in the last year. It felt like forever. It feels like no time at all.
On June 23, 2015, I signed my name and accepted the terms of employment. I signed my name and accepted, or maybe declared, the conclusion of a season.365. That's how many days were in the last year. It felt like forever. It feels like no time at all.
I’ve always thought it was his bravest moment, stepping that foot over the edge of the boat, planting it firmly on water that everyone knows should not have held his weight (Matthew 14). I’ve always thought it was faith at its finest. The boldest trust. The truest courage. But five years ago almost to the day, I sat on a boat in the middle of the Sea of Galilee, and I listened to Beth Moore teach about Peter and the sea. And I knew that I didn’t know what she was talking about. And I also knew that one day I would understand.
I’ve always thought it was his bravest moment, stepping that foot over the edge of the boat, planting it firmly on water that everyone knows should not have held his weight (Matthew 14). I’ve always thought it was faith at its finest. The boldest trust. The truest courage. But five years ago almost to the day, I sat on a boat in the middle of the Sea of Galilee, and I listened to Beth Moore teach about Peter and the sea. And I knew that I didn’t know what she was talking about. And I also knew that one day I would understand.
I trust You. I say it like I mean it, but there is this tiny halting in my voice, and I know that I don’t really know what that means. I know it more than I did last year. Last month. Last week. But I still don’t really understand it.
Sarah is a dear friend from college, and she was my roommate sophomore year. She is one of the most genuinely kind people that I know. She is calm and thoughtful, and she moves through life at a pace slow enough to notice it. She refuses to get caught up in the whirlwind life tempts us toward, and she reminds the people around her to slow down, to look around, to enjoy a moment.
Last night, I had a lengthy and serious seriously hilarious conversation via text message about ducks. Yep, that's right. Ducks. One duck in particular. This weekend, I house-sat for my parents who live in the country. That means that house-sitting involves caring for their 2 geriatric dogs, 19 chickens + 1 rooster, 2 horses and 20 ducks. I recruited some friends for backup, and we enjoyed a relaxing weekend in the country between our morning and evening chores.
“Do you think you can run again?” she asked me. Our feet sloshed in soaked shoes, and we had just scaled a short wall. When I had started to walk, she had slowed, wordlessly, to match my pace. We were doing a 5k called the “Wipeout Run.” It was hilarious. It was messy. It was exhausting. And it was so fun!
My friend Angela sent me her post over a month ago, and I read it then, but I read it with fresh eyes this morning, and I'm so grateful for her words and her gentle reminder to draw near to the Lord. I pray her story and her encouragement will encourage you as well.
