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He has made everything beautiful in its time. He set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”  Ecclesiastes 3:11 

God knows our hearts intimately.

He created us, made us, fashioned us fine.

He knows what makes us tick, knows what makes us cry.

He knows all of us, every part of us, the beautiful, upside down, inside out bits of us.

When we step out in faith, He reveals His purpose, His best, His grand design for our lives on earth and into eternity, too.

This, I learned on one trip to Haiti, one trip to the Dominican Republic, and one Ginny Owens acoustic house show.

When you know, you just know – this moment is a gift from God, this opportunity is a gift from God, this place and this time is a gift from the only One who could give it.

So when we received confirmation that Ginny and two band members would, indeed, be spending the night at our home, I knew it was a gift. Sent from heaven alone.

God knows whose writing and singing heart matches mine most closely. Ann VoskampSara Groves. And Ginny Owens. So He sent one, the only one I needed now. Ginny Owens. To perform in our home, to be present, to give me a taste of heaven.

When everyone cleared the concert, she asked how she could help. A beautiful servant heart, indeed.

She loves washing dishes, so we stood side by side. She washed. I dried. It was simple, really. Whole. Lovely. Pure.

The concert was amazing. But this washing dishes together was the greatest gift, the quietest, most heavenly gift.

Depth of conversation came the next morn around the breakfast table. But this washing dishes together was one human heart plus one human heart doing life together.

Wash. Dry.

Wash. Dry.

Wash. Dry.

We chatted. Milk spilled and puddled around Ginny’s boots and I checked her dress for milk spots. Band members, Dave and Andrew, ate late night pizza at our kitchen table. I brought the kids to bed and came back down again.

Ginny and I washed and dried everything but the awkward glass beverage containers, then called it a night.

It was slow.

Good.

Simple.

Rich.

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received.

God says…I know you. I know both of you. I brought you together for such a time as this.

This washing and drying, this living side by side, this being God’s beautiful, holy creations complementing one another? This is a taste of heaven. Taste. Believe. Receive the gift. For it is given most kindly, most affectionately, most intimately.

Eternity.

It’s set in our hearts.

He speaks when the time is right, reminds us of the beauty before us.

Know.

No one can fathom the goodness.

greensig

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I admit. I was a bit off from the moment I woke up this morning. I know myself well, and something wasn’t quite right. I wasn’t super friendly when my husband asked if I could go to the bank today to pick up all the cash we needed for the next two weeks. He left for work right after that and I gave him a half-hearted good bye. I intended to text him with an apology for the lackluster good bye, but got distracted by kid stuff. Sorry, babes.

The kids wanted to go to the zoo for our summer bucket list and I had no good reason to say no, so after morning trumpet lessons, we made our way to the animals.

It was the last day to get in on regular rate for the girls’ day camp at church, so we stopped in to pay as we passed. I wondered. Why does God always seem to have an important church errand for me to do when I’m feeling a little off, when I’m feeling a little vulnerable and worn? And why do I always run into pastors who want to know how I’m doing? Hmmm…imagine that. Pastors at a church. Asking how people are doing. Revolutionary. Perhaps our Heavenly Father is on to something there.

After a quick (or not so quick) lunch at Taco Bell (there was an extraordinarily long lunch line), we were finally on our way to the zoo.

I was still feeling off, emotionally and spiritually not quite right. Like I would be better off home by myself today or doing something quiet in isolation or going to a retreat center where nuns could tend my soul. But there was no way I was going to let my feelings get the best of our day. The kids were excited and well behaved and I was determined to join in the fun.

So I did.

My son put on loud music for us to listen to as we traveled the interstate. My daughter talked my ear off with stuff she was excited about. I answered questions and taught them some practical things they didn’t know before. We imagined ourselves living in St. Paul and the kids agreed they like to visit, but wouldn’t want to live there. All was good and after a while, we arrived at the zoo.

We got a pretty decent parking spot, emptied ourselves from the car, got the youngest in her stroller (in case of lack-of-nap meltdown), and made our way to the zoo entrance.

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The new gardens were beautiful. I soaked in the various plantings, including some tropicals we don’t usually see outdoors in Minnesota. We admired the lily pads and breathtaking flowers in the water garden. The two oldest loved lilac. I loved the dark red one partially hidden behind a pad. I could have lingered longer, but the baby was running ahead and the kids were ready to go. Still. It was nice to move and get out with nature.

Step by step. Stop by stop. The four of us made our way through the zoo.

Ducks. Sea lions. Penguins. A polar bear. Bison and other horned and hoofed animals. Lions. Tigers. Kudus. Zebras. Gorillas. Orangutans. A rare wolf sighting. Pressed pennies. And even a little time in the fun park without spending a dime.

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We took our time. We didn’t rush. We stopped to take photos when we felt like it. We enjoyed the animals and each other.

We moved right through that zoo. The pace was perfect. Nobody crabbed until the end. And my spirits weren’t perfect, but notably lifted by the exit.

On our way home, we picked up some ice cream cones with sprinkles and dip from Dairy Queen. I got a chocolate cone with chocolate dip. Good for the soul. Good for the taste buds, too.

The zoo.

Total Cost: $8-something for the cones

Mom Lesson: When we’re in a funk, it might be better to continue moving through the day rather than sitting and dwelling on whatever’s ailing us. 

Kid Lesson: As long as you’re a tiny bit creative, it doesn’t take much to satisfy kids’ curiosity.

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This post is part of a summer-long series titled Summer Bucket List. This is my first summer home full-time with our three children. My hope for this series is that it will challenge me to adventure out of my mothering comfort zone, will provide opportunities to live and write simply, practically, beautifully and meaningfully, and will stimulate some some fun ideas for your summer as well! To check out the entire series, click here and you’ll be directed to the introductory post where all the posts are listed and linked for easy reading. Enjoy, friends! And have a blessed summer.

 

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It’s summer. Day one.

Hubs last words before heading out to work this morning were “have a great vacation!”

Hmmm…vacation.

Our oldest was offered a ride to his first day of basketball, then a ride to his first day of junior golf league.

The girls and I headed out for a morning of activities. First, the gym. Let’s be real. The gym membership hasn’t worked for me for the past two summers. I barely went at all, and by the end of both summers, I told myself I’d never do that again, that I’d put my membership on hold for summer because it was a complete waste of money. But this summer, I decided I’d add our oldest daughter and give that a whirl. She’s way too old for the child care center, but exercise is one of my lifelines. I need to workout for my sanity. So today was day one at the gym. The oldest already mentioned a bit of boredom, but we’re going as long as she can stand it. Or mama’s gunna be a crabby vacationer. After the gym, we hit the post office, which was followed by a quick lunch at Taco Bell, which was followed by a stop at the pediatrician’s office to drop off health forms that need to be signed for my daughter’s upcoming church camp. Next was a call to the music store to verify that her trumpet, stand and lesson book would be delivered to school in time for tomorrow’s first band lesson. They weren’t sure. They looked it up and nothing was showing up in the system. Daughter tells me the mass delivery was already made last Thursday, that all of her friends already have their horns. I’m not sure whether to believe her or the representative I talked to at the store mid-last week. We shall wait for the return call to confirm either way. We drove to Target. I didn’t want to make another stop, but truth is, we had enough toilet paper for two more trips to the bathroom, so that Target stop was a do or die. And yeah, we picked up some bug spray for “natural protection” at camp. After all that, we drove home and dear daughter literally jumped out of the car to go visit neighbor friends the second we pulled in the driveway.

The three year old fell asleep on the way home. I’d promised her a regular pre-nap episode of Sofia the First, but since she’d fallen asleep, my goal was to get her in the house as quietly as possible and straight upstairs for nap. She hadn’t used the bathroom in three hours, so I had to wake her enough for a fight to go “potty” on the toilet before nap time.

Oldest daughter was gone visiting friends.

Son was still gone at golf.

The three year old was “napping.”

So I broke out my computer to start a blog post. I knew I didn’t have much time at all. An hour of quiet at best.

Then she came down. “I want some oranges. Can you get me some oranges? I want lemonade.” “We already ate,” I said! “Remember we ate at Taco Bell?” So much for the argument. She kept asking. I couldn’t deny oranges. And I wanted to ensure a full tummy for sleep. So she won. I broke out an orange and asked her to sit down and eat it. “After you eat the orange, it’s time for nap,” I reminded her. “When you wake up from nap, you can play outside with friends!”

Back upstairs.

Back to “nap.”

Back downstairs to my laptop. Uploaded a few pictures, started a post I’ll no longer write. Heard the three year old walking around upstairs.

Back upstairs.

There she was. Up and about.

“I want some lemonade,” she exclaimed.

I put her back in bed and got her a glass of water.

She refused it. “I want lemonade!” she exclaimed.

“We’re not having lemonade now. We’re having water now. You can have lemonade after nap,” I responded calmly.

I left her on her bed, doubtful of a nap ever happening at this point.

Within a minute, our oldest daughter came in the door with her neighbor friend. They needed my help with their box house outside. I pressed save on my blog post. I’d only uploaded three pictures at that point. Not even close to approximating the dream or vision I had for that post. I helped them in their play box, closed the cardboard door, and reminded them to open the “windows” and not stay in it too long. “It’s hot today, and I want to make sure you don’t overheat.”

Back inside.

Back to the computer for a minute. Maybe less. I don’t think I got anywhere on that post.

Girls came back inside, went upstairs, then came back downstairs. “Guess what?” said dear daughter. “What?” I said. “Maisie’s awake upstairs! She’s playing in her room,” exclaimed my oldest daughter. She and her friend giggled. Apparently, they thought it was cool, funny. They asked WHY she wasn’t sleeping. “She knows there’s a whole lotta fun stuff going on around here today, I guess.”

The girls went back upstairs and began entertaining the three year old. They’re up there still. Talking and playing. Doors shutting and opening again. “Come on sweets, come on Maisie.” I imagine they’re going to do her hair now. I’ll go check in just a few.

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I surrender the beautiful blog post I was writing. Not going to happen today. I surrender the thoughts of all the blog titles and posts I’ve been drafting and dreaming up in my head the last week of school and moving into this first week of summer. Posts on friendship and community, fighting for our God-sized dreams, our identities when all the external stuff is stripped away, a commemorative post marking my niece’s 5th birthday and all the trauma that led up to her birth, a post where I ask you what God’s working out in your life right now. I think about the writing group I’ll have to miss (again) this week, for the 3rd time in a row, because the hubs has work activities and I have an out-of-town baseball game for our son. I think about this season, how it seems I’m supposed to be here, surrendering the dreams, surrendering the visions I have for myself, for the NOW, the here and NOW. For the kids while they’re little. While they’re here. While they’re still playing and dressing up and going to golf and basketball and trumpet lessons and singing Sofia the First cartoon songs. While they still want me to come with them to the park.

I feel guilty for dreaming something for myself. It’s a tearing of myself in two.

I surrender the beautiful blog post for a simple one I can type as fast as my fingers will write in the in-between kid moments.

They’re downstairs now. The three year old came down in the blue “bow dress” my older daughter wore to her dance recital in preschool. The “baby” is nearly that same age now. The bow dress fits perfectly and is her favorite. “It’s time for memories,” the older girls prompted her as she came downstairs to show me her loveliness. “It sure is,” I said as I gave her a big hug.

They’re here now. In the room next to me, trying to determine what to do next. It’s loud in here. They’re playing kazoo. My fingers are flying, determined to get anything out on this page.

It’s a balancing act.

And I’m not perfect at it at all.

This isn’t vacation. This is a season.

A season of surrender. To what is. To the now. To living for today. To enjoying and finding peace where God has me.

Yes, they are small. This is their vacation. My words will wait. A different kind of beauty is waiting. She’s tapping me now. “Can I go outside with the girls?” Then, “Guys, guys let’s go outside. Come!”

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When life is overwhelming…

When you can’t get out of your funk….

When all you can think of is heavy, deep and real…

When you’ve been disappointed…

When your dreams have been dashed…

When everyone seems happier and more peaceful than you…

When you can’t remember the last time you laughed hard…

When adults act like kids…

When kids act like babies…

When people are just annoying…

When you’re tired of drama…

When you have no clue how to answer the problems of the day…

When winter lingers longer than it should…

When you’re tired of seeing brown…

When you need sunshine, blue skies and a gentle, warm breeze…

When the to-do list never ends…

When the house looks like you never lifted a finger…

When there’s junk all over the kitchen floor and you just vacuumed it yesterday…

When you need some time alone…

When you need some time away…

When you need community too…

When you need someone to sit with you for hours and know it all…

When you want to fly away, zone out, drift off to a place where everyone just gets it…

When you need more time to do what you love…

When you wonder if you’re on the right path…

When life feels like a big question mark…

When all else fails…blow bubbles.

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View More: http://kimdeloachphoto.pass.us/allume2014

My brother and I hit a deer on the way to our parents’ house a few weeks ago. Our car has been in the shop for repairs for nine days. It might be in the shop for another three. As a result, I’ve driven my husband to work seven days in a row. And I’ve picked him up from work seven days in a row.

Some days, he’s ready to go when I pull up.

Some days, he’s not.

On the days I’ve had to wait for my husband in the vehicle, I’ve taken the moment to peer deeper into those corporate headquarters. It’s the end of a long workday. People flow out. I watch one woman on her phone. I wonder if she’s single or whether she’s headed to daycare to pick up her kids. I observe another woman who’s wearing a long peacoat and tall boots. Does she dress that way everyday, or just for work? I watch another woman with short, tidy hair walk confidently through the hall. I imagine the position she holds, the dollars that flowed through her hands that day, the power she so eloquently displayed in the board room. And I think about all the other women about to leave the building for the day. Who are they? What drives them? What do they love?

The truth of it all stares me in the face.

I’m not like these women.

I’ve faced this reality time and time again through the years. This comparing myself to the women with whom my husband spends his work days. This comparing, this feeling like I should be like them? It weighs on me. A lot.

These are the things I’ve said to myself in the quiet…

I’m not driven enough. Not competitive enough. Not extroverted enough. Not powerful enough. Not creative enough. Not outspoken enough. Not compelled to work full-time and climb the corporate ladder enough. Not secure in my intellect enough to spend a multi-million dollar budget. Not confident enough to do any of that. Not interesting enough. Not super excited about everything enough. Not providing for my family like them. Not modeling habits of a professional working mom like them. Not awesome at engaging in conversation like them. Not fancy necklace wearing, pencil skirt wearing, extra tall boot wearing like them. Not bringing in income that supports a full-fledged dual-income inner-ring $500,000.00+ home. Like them.

This causes me pause.

This brings me sadness.

This makes me feel less than.

This makes me feel like I’m not enough.

This makes me feel defeated.

This makes me feel like I should be someone else, like I should work hard to learn their ways, like I should emulate their behaviors so I can become more. Like them.

But I know. In my heart of hearts. That I’m not them.

I’m me.

Amy.

I’m not a corporate woman. I’m not a business woman. I’m not a board room woman. And I’m not a million-dollar budget spending kind of woman. And if you’d ask me how to sell cereal to the nations, I wouldn’t have a clue.

I struggle with this feeling like I need to be someone else.

I struggle with this feeling like I need to be more like that corporate woman and less like “the mom,” the part-time small business owner, the blogger who likes to write, take pictures and advocate for the least of these, but gets paid nothing.

WHY struggle? WHY doubt? WHY worry about any of this, you say?

WHY the comparison?

It’s about security.

Security in my identity.

Feeling confident I’ll be loved no matter who I am, no matter what I do.

Resting in peace, knowing God created me specifically, uniquely.

Maybe I’m not made for board rooms. Maybe I’m not designed to manage million-dollar budgets. Maybe I need to give up the comparing and worrying I’m not enough…and accept who I am once and for all.

Move beyond this.

Move beyond this, says God.

Go. Be who you are.

SPECIAL NOTE TO READERS: Recently, I’ve been in the mood to pull posts out of my unpublished archives. There’s something about bringing thoughts and words to light that’s powerful. I originally drafted this post on September 16, 2014. While the post is not as timely as it once was, I still struggle with comparing myself to the corporate woman with whom my husband works on a daily basis. I recognize the need to break free from this comparison trap once and for all, but also believe I’m not alone in the battle. Hoping someone relates to these words today. 

greensig

 

 

 

 

  1. Kaye Scovil says:

    It’s like you reached into my heart and pulled out all these emotions I have been storing there. My kids are leaving the nest…one will graduate from college this year, one is a college sophomore, and my baby is a sophomore in high school…my “job” is being phased out. I have been blessed to stay home, and am proud of the life I have created alongside my husband, but the voice inside that says “I am not enough”, still speaks to me. Thank you for sharing this….it has touched my heart today.

  2. Robyn Krause Sitarz says:

    I also struggle from time to time. Thankfully, to balance out the struggle, I’m often reminded that I have the best job in the world…for me. I might not help with the bottom line financially, but I’ve helped raise some great kids and been allowed to donate my time and energy to others. It doesn’t always chase away the struggle but at the end of the day, I’m doing what I love and do best.

  3. Gretchen Wendt O'Donnell says:

    I get it. But mostly I’m ok being who I am these days. It helps living in a small town!

  4. Beth Delvaille says:

    Oh, yes, I can relate! I need to continually remind myself to look straight ahead to where God wants ME to go, instead of side to side looking at everyone else. Thanks for the post!

    • Amy says:

      So glad you could relate, Beth. I’ve found that looking side to side is a good word picture in this regard. I really need to stay focused on where God has called me, how He made me, where He wants me to be focusing my energy at any given time. It’s easy to get sidetracked and totally off the path if we look here, there and everywhere at what everyone else is doing.

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