Moms sometimes keep the strangest things. Locks of hair, pacifiers, baby teeth. It makes for funny discoveries and family jokes. But if you pause to think about it, is it any wonder?
Is it any wonder?
I recently pulled open the freezer and saw the last 2 batches of breastmilk sitting there. A few years later, I’m surprised every time I see them. Surprised that I did that, and surprised I still have them. I held on to the small frozen batch of miraculous milk. And I of course put it back in the freezer, to remember for another time. A token to the season of sleepless nights and fuzzy heads and growing way too fast babies, and being able to provide for them.
Like anything we might collect, it’s a reminder. A reminder that through a grand series of miracles, we were able to participate in some of the most amazing things- creation, new life, birth, growth.
Most of what moms do can’t be kept or measured, just given away.
This is a journey without miles markers. Without trophies. In a society that values accolades and beauty, there’s little of that to show for motherhood. If you’re doing it well, especially.
You can work all day and could hardly even tell you were there. (Unless you weren’t. ) Late night feedings and warm hugs. Dust that settles as fast as it’s wiped, laundry that doesn’t stay clean. Escorts to the bathroom and late night talks, disasters avoided. presents unwrapped, sandwich crusts discarded. Prayers she muttered that only heaven hears. While loving most of it, a mom can still look around and wonder, by the look of things, what it is she has done.
She gave. Everything that can’t be measured. She gave of herself.
Mommas are endless givers, from the moment they become one. Even the ones you might not think are. From the moment you begin your arrival, whichever way you come, moms start letting go. Letting go of pride. Letting go of plans. Letting go of how things used to be.
The way things rearranged forever, the stretch and crack of opening ribs, hearts. midsections, entire lives. The skin that won’t ever stretch tight again, not without a surgeons knife. The scars on a mom’s once-beautiful midsections. She let go of what was more beautiful to everyone else in order to hold on to something more beautiful, to her at least. And heaven.
It changed almost everything. But it was worth the price of admission. We now have a front row seat to these lives growing. We barely blink. Of her breath and bones, midsection and heart alike, life has bloomed. This is everything right here. Where dreams are born, where dreams are blooming. Where character is formed. Where character is sharpened. Where babies grow and patience does too. Where they crack open sometimes and we almost crack sometimes, too.
It left her bloodied and scarred. But not really broken. Only sometimes it seemed that way. (Maybe just a little cracked. But how else would the wine come pouring out so fully?)
But then, like a Phoenix. A flower. A zenith. She rises again.
And as you grow, she’s letting go even more. Letting go of pieces of you. Of pieces of her. But don’t worry. She’s becoming, too. Becoming more beautiful, more sacred, even while more scarred. Sacrificially somehow, being made more whole. The most beautiful scars, the ones worth holding onto, are the scars left by the sacrifice of love.
Some people call it the toughest job. The worst job. The dumbest job. It has to be one of the holiest. Holy, as defined in this way: ‘‘Living or undertaken with highly moral or spiritual purpose; saintly.’ The work of all parents, fathers too, are so important it can be a most holy work. But there’s something about what moms do that is so personal, it feels almost sacred.
WE are not holy (every mom knows. The hours are too long, some days too exhausting.) But the work is holy. And it is most holy when we remember as such. A 24/7/365 responsibility, inviting another human into your most personal spaces, to raise and care for.
We are not saviors, only called to love like One. To introduce them to Him. To be hands and feet and arms open wide in the middle of the night, an open hearts to listen to your worries and dreams, for length days.
It’s is a refinery. A wine press for the ages. It’s the pouring out of wine that only makes the next batch even better. She’s been poured out like wine, drunk from like a river, held a sacred life in the breadth of her arms. Not for personal gain, but a loving sacrifice.
The opposite of the old adage, she lost the whole world and gained her soul. We thought we’d be helping shape to them. The constant growing and rearranging is ours, too.
All of this letting go, she’s been collecting sacred beauty that no man can see, deep in her heart. God sees. God knows. She just wants to remember sometimes, too.
So, it’s no wonder she’ll hold on to the breatsmilk or the pacifier. Sometimes when the kids aren’t around, she might want something to hold on to. To remember. To remember how far you’ve both come.
Do you ever feel like no one sees or notices the good that you’re trying to do? The positive change you’re trying to accomplish? Me too. All of us do at some time or another. CEO to struggling artist, pastor, mother, parent, and friend. Humanitarian, policemen, poets and kings. We all have this in common: we struggle to feel like we’re really seen, appreciated, and hope against hope, maybe even understood for what it is we’re trying to do.
Not too long ago this was me, and human nature being what it is, probably will be again. Sinking into the end of the bed, barely able to think, I started reading the bedtime story to my kids. My shoulders were heavy with disappointment and my mind was heavy with self-doubt. I showed up there, but so imperfectly. I already felt like I was over-“performing” and under delivering
As I read the story aloud- a mouse with little stature and little significance- my own tired ears started to perk up. This mouse seemed so familiar. While doing everything he could, using every resources he had, working fervently to do something important and meaningful, he was coming up seemingly empty. He was trying to play some music on a ratty ol’ makeshift instrument. No one around him seemed to see or care, or even kind of understand. Some even scoffed. That very evening, that blessed(ish) moment, I felt exactly like that mouse. Haven’t you?
Feeling the weight of my heavy shoulders and the ones I saw mirrored on the paper, I turned a heavy page.
That little unimportant mouse was somber and sullen. Undeterred, but unsettled. Until that is, the king came rolling into town. The one everyone was waiting for. But everybody else missed it. They were too busy. Preparing. Primping. Criticizing.
The king rolled right by unnoticed. The only one that happened to find him was the mouse. Before he knew it, he found himself alone and before the baby king. Ready and not ready, all at once. But he did have a song to play. (Yes, it was a newer take on the drummer boy. And something about it being such a tiny insignificant creature made it hit home even more.)
The crowds were gone and all that mattered was this: the mouse in front of the king, with a song to play. The mere thought of the crowds and scoffers was almost laughable now.
But, wasn’t it always? By now I was sobbing. Of course. Of course of course. It doesn’t matter what the others had to say or not say. It didn’t matter anything about the crowd at all, really. At the end of the day, he played, I play, you play, we all play for an audience of One.
You played your heart out. Music or not. And nobody seemed to notice or care. But truth is, the One who really matters already sees.
“Audience of One” Courting the Extraordinary
This king doesn’t care what your size is or what kind of instrument you use. He looks past the details, he sees the effort, and HE knows your heart. That, my friend, is all that really matters.
We’re trying so much to communicate our hearts by our actions. But truth is, the One who really matters already sees.
We should do whatever it is that we do, not for the masses, nor to please any crowd. But because it beats in our heart, because it’s what we were made to do. And whether you or I understand it yet or not, we don’t do it for them, or for even for us.
You’re not meant to play to the crowd.
Even if you’re trying to help, the crowd is not supposed to be your aim. Which if you think about it, is quite freeing. The crowd is fickle, and harsh. They will love you as long as it serves them. They can become a slave master even before you realize it. They will never be as pleased as we would hope, at least not for long, and certainly not forever. One day you’ll be standing before a king and they’ll be long forgotten.
As we tucked my daughter into bed recently, we said a not uncommon phrase (and it would have been said to our son too, but he was already asleep.) “We’re proud of you.” Her one word question was new. “Why?” I knew the answer right away, and knew it must be clear. (As a “recovering” people pleaser, I feel acutely the importance of differentiating. God helps us not be or raise people whose worth is attached to performance.)
“Those nice things- helping out, being kind to your sibling, sharing from your piggy bank. Those are good things. But just doing them doesn’t matter quite so much. It matters most when it shows and reflects the goodness that’s in your heart,” we told her. We were trying to explain why we were proud of her, which extends BEYOND juts what she does, into the core of WHO she is, which can be reflected in actions. Like our son, too, who delights to pick us wildflowers ;and weeds) for no other reason, than because he loves. He sees their beauty, and wants to share.
I think that God looks at us and the things we do kind of like that, too. What matters more is not just what we do, but why and how we do it. Even if it’s imperfect or we make mistakes, Hr can see right past that to what matters more- our hearts. We can take a hundred good deeds and tie them up in a pretty bow, but it’s the heart that really counts. He doesn’t want us just to go through the motions and check the boxes, to “do the right thing.”
He wants us to “be” the right thing. To be filled with love. To be expressions of who He is, in us. The most beautiful acts might be simple, but when they come from that place of love, where God dwells with us, they are music to His ears.
It’s moving from a place of love instead of towards it. Accepting His love instead of thinking that I need to create it.
So, even if nobody seems to notice or nobody seems to care, it will not go unnoticed, your heart will not be unseen. No seed sown in love is ever wasted. No act of love is ever wasted, no matter how small or seemingly unnoticed. It never is wasted.
What you’re doing is for an audience of One. And trust me when I say, His love can make a garden and He is much more forgiving than the crowd. He understands what the others don’t. He sees your worth, he values the effort that you give.
So don’t do play to the crowd. Play for Him. Sow seeds of love, and live for Him.
I saw a tree, covered in an unexpected snow, while still blooming. I thought, ‘Will this beauty withstand the cold, the snow, the weight of the unexpected?’
The answer came to my soul, and yours, too.
“Yes, Beauty, you will.”
You are growing beautifully. You look back and see beauty past. You look forward and see potential beauty. I look at you now and see beauty, all of it, at once. Seed to sapling, flower to leaf. One day at a time, unfolding.
You are not judged by yesterday‘s mistakes nor today storms. I see you where you are trying to love, to stretch your limbs, to stand strong and bloom both delicately and fiercely. You are love just as you are today.
You look around and wonder if there was something more beautiful about your youth. About your younger limbs and your smaller frame. Some thing less pretentious or delicate, more hopeful, more beautiful. Tell me does someone look at the aging tree and judge it for its reach? For the strength of its neck, the width of its trunk? Do you regret the beauty of its blooms or what has it has become? Never, not once.
Look at how you have grown, look at the shade you now give, how much more. Look at your blooms. More than yesterday. More to come.
But today, beautiful still. Notwithstanding the cold or the snow or any other tree growing around you or how you thought you might grow. I see something beautiful, just as you look at this tree. She is not less than she was. She is not yet what she may be. But today she is beautiful. Beautiful.
Sometimes a run just feels different. Yesterday the load felt lighter because it was. Having dropped off the dog and set back out on a run, the pace was faster and somehow felt easier. A few glances down at my watch and I saw numbers I hadn’t gotten to see in some time. It was so simple. I was running free.
I start every run with the dog, and most often I don’t circle back home to drop him off. It just seems easier. But whether I realize it or not, it truly slows me down.
Truthfully, it felt like a good excuse for my slowness. I take comfort in having the dog there because it justifies my pace, the era of sluggishness I feel kind of stuck in. I don’t seem to have the same pep in my step that I used to, but I don’t mind that much. I’m mostly just grateful to get out there and keep going. After all, yesterday’s pace doesn’t define today’s success.
But.
The funny thing is, a run like yesterday made me realize how much I might actually hold myself back. I choose to have the tether, the leash, in my hand. I choose to think I should be going slower too. But I’m actually choosing to hold myself back.
It’s a funny thing when you run. Or when you do anything, really. You might feel propelled forward to success and speed, mile markers. It might be your own competitiveness which fuels your fire, or sometimes the thought of other people’s. There are times you can turn it off completely and just “get it done”. These are seasons and sections of fitness and life that are all perfectly good and normal. You don’t always have to go hard and fast. There’s time for recovery and rebuilding.
But sometimes your might be ready for a new season. But perhaps your mind is still stuck, and you’re spinning your wheels in the old one.
We tend to hold on to ideas about things. About how things should go. Like how we should parent, or manage our responsibilities, or spend our time. For me, walking the dog is a daily activity, and a good one. But I don’t need to be always do it in exactly the same way that I have been. I can still care for him and then carve out some time for myself. There’s something else attainable for me now if I would just try.
Is there something else that you might ready for you to go after, too? Is there a book you should be writing, a new eating plan for better health, a fitness routine you’re thinking of trying?
Maybe now is a season for you to go faster and further. Let go of the ideas of what “should be” that are holding you back, what you think you need to carry. You don’t need to get rid of your responsibilities. I’m not giving away my dog. I ’m just realizing I might be able to do something a little differently. You might be too. A small change might make a big difference!
“The universe is Abundant. You are Enough. Your opportunities are Limitless.” These words are thrown around a lot in the world right now. Unless you’re talking to follower of Christ about what they “should” do. We seem to prefer to build a lot of boxes for Christians. Surprisingly most for other followers in Christ. While the world shouts, “You can be and do anything, go anywhere!” The church likes to whisper to one another “But not that. Not you.”
“Be like Jesus. He didn’t become a king. He died on the cross. That’s what our lives hours look like. Humble sacrifice.”
Yes, your life should be marked by his His love and sacrifice, by the character of Jesus. But Jesus is not a two-dimensional character that can be nailed to any cross, last or present. He gave His life and He rose again. This is the entire crux of our faith. If he stayed on the cross, it would be a dead religion. His kingdom wouldn’t have come.
Yes, our redemption was found on the cross. But that’s not where it ended. To point to Jesus on the cross and say “do only THAT”, frankly, is wrong. He already did it. That cross is taken, its work completed. Our redemption was signed, sealed, and delivered. Mostly, because He didn’t stay there.
Though there are many that would like to keep Him (and you) there.
If we attempt to keep one another nailed to the cross of Christ, so will ours be a dead religion. He cannot be nailed to our understanding. He is a very real, very alive and extremely loving King. A risen Lord full of power and love and redeeming compassion. The crux of the Easter story is not that he stayed there, but that He conquered death, hell and the grave. He rose again. And He is still bringing out His work in earth. Believe me that image of him on the cross is where I fell in love with the Lord and that is sacred and holy. It is life-giving. But we must not let our theology keep him there for us.
Christ himself said “It is finished”. Finished. He didn’t tell us to pick up His cross and keep going.
What he told us was instead, this: “Take up your cross and follow me. “
Jesus didn’t tell us to take up His cross and die on the same hill he did. Or to die on any old hill, one we might pick. He told us to take up OUR cross and FOLLOW him.
What cross, then? Whichever one he tells you. On any single day, and best case scenario, every day. Remember, obedience is better than sacrifice. If we are ever to die on a hill, it should be one of His choosing, not ours. And most certainly NOT our neighbors.
If I choose the cross, form it based on what I see, form it to shape my own understanding, to look like anyone else’s- Jesus’, or Peter’s or John’s, or Mary’s, I am practicing sacrifice but perhaps not obedience. Maybe even idolatry if I am choosing for myself. Or anyone else. If I crucifying another person by and to my own understanding of the gospel, I am doing the same.
I am not in charge of my neighbor. Following Christ is the ultimate freedom, and we’ve been putting one another in the chains of our own understanding for a thousand years, twice over. Free in Christ means more than we are willing to admit, and more than we are often ever comfortable with. For ourselves and for others.
Taking up the cross might look for one like entering a political arena. Or staying out. It might mean going to work, or staying home. Stage or pulpit, classroom or coffee shop. YOU don’t get to say. That’s the entire point. You certainly don’t get to decide for anyone else.
I hear a lot theories around what Christians should and shouldn’t do right now. What’s in the Bible, what literally “fits” or doesn’t fit inside of it and the theology that surrounds it.
“Jesus wasn’t a king.” “Be happy with what you have.” “Sit down and be quiet”. “You can’t do that.” “You don’t belong”. “Settle for less.”
These can be the whispers of deception. Just as Jesus was tempted in the wilderness. There’s maybe a portion of truth. But not the whole truth. Not the truth that God is already speaking. To you.
Doubt comes rushing in. Taking the truth and twisting it ever so slightly. Just like the whispers in the garden. “Has God said?” We echo it for one another in the church more often that we must or ever should. It must make God so sad.
And it’s everywhere we turn right now. Even in the church.
We can identify it for someone else sometimes but maybe when it’s spoken for us though.
Stop listening to other voices. Stop listening for other people. Start listening for yourself. What is God saying to you, today? Where is he telling you to go? What cross is he asking you to take up? Do not think it has to look like anyone else’s. Not even the one Jesus carried. He did it for you, so you could walk in the fullness of whatever it is that HE has planned. Already. Before anyone else was alive and had the words to speak about it.
Get back to THAT cross. It will mean dying to something. Usually your selfishness. And that pride that would try to talk you out of it. The need for others to justify it, whatever it is.
Jesus was crucified in part because he had become too powerful. He didn’t come to be a King the way anyone else ever intended. But He came to be the King of your heart if you let Him.
Don’t sit down. Don’t shut up. He’s waiting for you not to ever even care what someone else should think. Trust Him more than anyone else’s opinion. Because HE is trustworthy. He is kind and gracious and he never is concerned with what anyone else’s plans are for your life or whether they’ll make any sense to anyone else.
Perhaps if we stop crucifying each other so much and we get something wrong or make a mistake, we will all be able to fly a lot more, even when we fail. We might stop snipping one another’s wings and really soar into our destiny. What would that look like? Freedom. Which is, after all, the work of Christ on that amazing cross.
The message popped up on my screen last Friday, “Hey, friend, I can’t wait to hear what you have to say!” There was a link attached. A current senior from our bible college was reaching out on an alumni Facebook group. They were looking for advice as they prepare to graduate, and decided to ask those who have gone before. My heart leapt inside of me, and I knew immediately what I would say.
“Always listen for the still small voice.”
My fingers were itching to type it, and more, truth be told. But as much as I wanted to chime in, I couldn’t. You see, I had just started, that very morning, a week long break from Facebook. All because I had, well, listened to that still, small voice.
The irony was not lost on me.
See, I love good conversation and I love to discuss important issues, like faith, freedom, love, family, to name a few. I love discourse and discovery that happens in the conversation, of others and myself. But sometimes I love it too much. And it’s good to step away and listen a bit more to the people and the life that are all around you. And of course, that still small voice.
Now almost a week later, my fingers have been itching to type the answer ever since. I’m not itching to return to FB and am really enjoying the space. That thread is probably long buried, too. But I realize that the beating words in my heart aren’t going away, do this is as good a place as any. So here goes!
**Let me say first, though this applies directly to someone preparing to graduate bible college, it doesn’t just apply to them. I think it applies to almost anyone who a) is transitioning into a new phase of life, b) has a heart to love God and/or other people, or c)wants to walk in their best life, their fullest potential. If that sounds like you at all, keep reading…
One: Always always listen for the still, small voice. God is always speaking, but His voice is most often quiet and gentle. Being a true gentleman, and not the controlling bully that too many picture Him to be, God doesn’t often shout. (Though He sometimes will if necessary!)
It starts most often in your heart, as a stirring or a feeling. Sometimes it even makes absolutely no sense to your mind. But you can’t deny how much it makes sense to your heart. If you’re wise you’ll listen. Even when it might not make sense on paper, there’s something in your spirit that agrees with it. It is also easy to connect with because it demonstrates His character. While his voice is not always big and bold in volume, it is always big and bold in love. Which is why you must keep your heart open to it.
When I was preparing to leave bible college, I had some really really good offers on the table. One was even the kind that got attention of the Dean of Students. Men actually. He was the sharp and serious kind. Though his words that I’d be “perfect for the job” meant so much, the job still just didn’t feel right. None of the options did. So I went home, worked in a coffee shop, and waited.
Two: About “ministry”: It’s all ministry. Your life is the ministry.
This might sound wacky talking to a group of bible college students or graduates, but the truth is, you’re not really called to a church, or to any other particular mission field. You are called first, to the Lord .
You’re called to know Him. Out of knowing Him, you will go to any number of places- all over the world, or around the corner- and share that Love that you know first from Him. You won’t be able to not minister His love. It will flow out naturally.
Helping should always remain secondary. Religion led by a desire to help or bless others, instead of led by your desire for the Lord, can quickly go awry, and even end up doing more harm than good. If it’s not connected to your first Love, it will quickly be in danger of becoming people pleasing of the most egregious kind- in the name of the Lord, but not in His Spirit.
Yes, some of you will be then called to serve in churches. Or neighborhoods. Or any number of places, secular or sacred. Since the Lord lives in you, and is with you everywhere you go, there is no longer a sacred and a secular. It is, all of it, sacred. Whether you’re painting a wall or holding a little person’s hand or giving someone a ride or sharing a message of hope or laughter, all of it is sacred. More ministry happens in everyday life than we often realize. (Look for it.)
Those great opportunities that I turned down? Led me to become a nanny and assistant for some really wonderful kids and families. If you know anything in life, you know that helping to care for another persons basic needs and wellbeing is, in fact, ministry.
Three: You can’t mess it up merely as much as you think.
There is one thing I’ve seen over time, and it’s that there is not one single path that you have to figure out and choose. Sometimes there are definite junction points upon which bing changes can hinge. But it is not something you can get either completely wrong or right based on your feeble choices.
It’s not even a choose-your-own-adventure. While it does feel like it, and holds a similar web of possible pitfalls, roads and opportunities alike, there is one guiding truth that sets it apart, one thing that matters more than your feeble efforts: God is more willing than you are to see your calling fulfilled.
As you look ahead, as much as you don’t know, you can know this: There will be so much grace. We easily forget just how gracious and loving our God really is. He will find more opportunities for you to walk in your destiny or calling than any number of pitfalls that you might stumble upon. Even if you placed them there yourself.
If you make a mistake, on purpose or by accident, know that He sees and knows your heart more than anyone, and He is more gracious than we often understand. He is not controlling, and He allows you to choose your direction, but if you do happen get a little lost at any point, He’ll help set your feet on a good path whenever you ask.
There probably a hundred ways to get where you need to go. Take some pressure off of yourself. Trust Him.
One last note, an addendum: Expect to be surprised. It’s often how God works. Even when we know Him, there’s still so much that we don’t yet know. He’s bigger than we can fathom, more gracious than we give Him credit for.
When your surprised one way or another, refer back to number 1 (Listen). And also, 2 (Love). Keep in mind 3 (Trust.) It is often not as complicated as we make it, but there is plenty to learn. Enjoy the discovery, and surprises.
I’m right there with you. My own surprises are unfolding now too. Twenty years after leaving bible college, it’s just getting started in some ways. Dormant dreams, stirred callings, and greater Love. We’re all still on a journey if we’re still breathing. I think there’s something in the air.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.
Hey, I'm Courtney, a pretty ordinary girl who thinks we've all been called to an extraordinary life and love story with God. I'm passionate about family, faith, motherhood, and the adventure of every day. I write lots of words, mostly because I can’t help it- and I think it's one of the things I was born to do. I hope that something I write encourages you, to walk in your own unique purpose and calling, set free to love and give it away, starting wherever you are today. That's what Courting the Extraordinary is all about. Finding the good all around you, and giving it away. Finding, too, the God of all goodness who wants to walk with you.
I love quiet mornings, coffee, prayer and “work” before sunrise. Quality time with my family is my jam. I can be found grinning ear to ear when we're out on an adventure. Whether that's in our own backyard or exploring someplace new all-together, I’ll for sure note something beautiful about nature aloud-and maybe repeatedly, ha!. Life is a beautiful, precious gift, and an adventurous path to travel! We might as well learn how to love.