exploring.

This week marks our eighth month in Greenville, which I'm convinced is one of the most beautiful places in the country. There are mountains, swamps, trees and landscapes that are so different from the west coast, but so, so breathtaking.

At the beginning of January, Landon and I decided that we would explore a new place in the area every weekend throughout the month. We visited different parks and trails every weekend and I was reminded of how relaxing it is to just be in God's handiwork. To know that if He made the mountains, He can make anything new in us. The photos above and below were taken on our various adventures this month.

I do hope we continue to explore. It's nice to be reminded that His beauty is in everything, echoing grace and gratitude. xoxo. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty, the whole earth is full of his glory. Isaiah 6:3

hands, more or less?

Hands. Have you ever wondered why we have two? We wouldn't get through the day the same without them. Without those fingers typing, tying, pushing, holding, without our palms lifting, carrying, patting, pressing.

Now that the holidays are here, my hands have been in full force--Knitting, baking, stirring, wrapping. Simple tasks but without hands--open hands--impossible. And isn't it strange to think that the very things that create, that bring life and share love can also bring destruction? The same palm that hugs can hit. The same fingers that write words of affection can type words of poison. The same hand that reaches out to welcome can be folded in arms of frustration. The same hand that opens to His gifts can fist up against them.

And why just two? Wouldn't four be better for navigating airports or ordering coffee for a group? Couldn't Ashley or my mom use six or eight as they hold, pat, play, read to get through the day with three under age five? Perhaps if we had more we could be more.

But that's just it. Maybe, as is always the case, God gave us two on purpose. Because if we had more we wouldn't be inclined to reach out. We wouldn't need to ask for help. We wouldn't have to put down one thing in order to pick up another. We could have it all and do it all, but perhaps God did not intend for us to have it all and do it all with our own hands. Perhaps He meant for us to corral more fingers, find more open palms as we reach for His. Perhaps, as we stretch our palms, extend our fingers, open our hands, we can point to the hands that were always open for us--even to nails on a cross.

xoxo.

how does it know?

The question comes to me as I trim a sprig of basil. Deep, foresty green, its freshness filling the air as it fills my hand.

How does this plant know what to grow into? How, after each time its leaves are trimmed does it know to again spring forth, pushing through what was removed to give new life? How does it know?

All it requires is sun, water, soil. Such a simple equation. How does it know?

And then the answer whispers, it knows because it is fed. 

It is fed. 

Nourished. 

And it knows.

And if it were not fed, it would not know. Every effort to spring up would be thwarted, scorched, shriveled.

But when it is fed--not just once, but daily sun, refreshing water, roots in soil--it knows. And then, only then, will it yield freshness and purpose and beauty.

xoxo.

foreign places.

The suitcases are empty and the laundry is folded after a recent trip to Portland and Montana, but I’m still unpacking my thoughts.

At the end of our trip, my dad said that out of all of his kids, he would have thought I’d be the least likely to move far away. I had to agree with him--I am a homebody to the core. I love Portland, I love our families, and I love the familiar. It still surprises me sometimes that we’ve made our way across the country to places that were once foreign, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. God, in His patience and grace, has given me so many opportunities to trust Him as we’ve encountered new towns, different cultures, and unfamiliar faces. He has taken me to foreign places and shown me the depths of His provision, the beauty of His plans, and the heart of His people.

Though I once was afraid to venture beyond my front door, He has proved Himself faithful in all places. And now, I sense that there are new places He longs to take me.

His word says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20)

Sometimes, often times, I open the door for Jesus, and then I ask Him to kindly make His way up to the attic of my heart where I can think about Him, know that He’s there, and call on Him when I need to, all the while quietly refusing to let Him dine at the table of my heart, refusing to sit face-to-face with Him and take in what He is calling me to do. It is safer, easier, to keep Him in the attic.

But God does not call us to a safe, easy life. He calls us to fling open the doors to the foreign places in our hearts and love, bearing all vulnerability, absorbing all risk, fleeing what the world tells us is good for something better.

God has led me to unfamiliar places, and my prayer is that by His grace, I will allow Him to invade the foreign places in my heart, that I might be emptied of myself and filled with Him.

xoxo.

truth for today.

This verse in Hebrews stood out to me this morning. God has been gently and subtly placing things on my heart lately, and I believe He's preparing me to produce vegetation, not just to cultivate for myself, but for others. As I came across this verse, I was reminded that part of the preparation is rain.

This week in Greenville has been filled with rain. We started our long run yesterday morning on a trail covered by trees, and they were already dripping from heavy rainfall earlier in the morning. A few miles into my run, I came out of the trees onto an open part of the trail just as the rain was picking up again. It came streaming over my face, into my eyes, over my mouth, making it difficult to see the trail as I wiped my face to keep going.

Rain makes things unclear and uncomfortable. When you're caught in it, it covers you completely, offering no escape from its cold, wet heaviness. It is at times beautiful, and at others dismal, but it is always necessary. Without rain, there is no life.

My prayer is that I would welcome the rain in my life, knowing that even in its heaviness it is good, and trusting that at the right time, the rain will give way to the harvest.

xoxo.

the first few days in our new home.

Different seasons of life are marked by different expressions of God's faithfulness. I have felt so clearly in the last few years God's provision, His perfect will, and the ways in which He says, trust me, I will come through for you always. 

In this new season, I also sense God's matchless beauty. The wonders of His hands, the glory of His name. Through His creation, He whispers, if I created this, the Heavens and the Earth, should you not also trust me with every detail of your life?

I also sense His call to dig in, living deeper in relationships and less in stuff or circumstances. He has given us a clear mission, one that we can only pursue by trusting daily, hourly, in Him.

Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act. Psalm 37:4

xoxo.


photos from my iPhone of our first few weeks in Greenville: camping (nutella/banana breakfast s'mores anyone?), picnicking, setting up our new place, summer reading, enjoying God's creation, and lots and lots of running. 

more than i imagined.

A few people have asked if I'm feeling nervous about our move. And I almost surprise myself each time I say, "No, not really," because two years ago, when we were facing our move from Oregon to Texas, I felt a lot of uncertainty. We were leaving family, friends, familiarity. In this post from April 2011, I wrote...

I will have the opportunity to find a new community of friends and family-away-from-family.

And, most importantly, I will still have the joy and the trials and the opportunities for faith that come with being constantly refined by Christ's presence in my life. And likely in ways I can't even imagine. 

And it's been so, so true. God provided us with the best community--especially in our dear friends at UBCabilene. It's been an honor to serve alongside a such united group of believers who are truly committed to reaching Abilene for Christ. There have been so many small, sweet moments where I thank God for bringing us into a wonderful community. Small moments that have meant so much, like being given a dining table just before Thanksgiving, or seeing smiles on the faces of my FamilyLife girls every Wednesday night. 

And the joys and trials that we've faced in these two years have pushed me to lean wholly on God's plan and provision. We haven't experienced the highest elation or the deepest grief, but we have, in those small, sweet moments, known the joy that comes from serving Christ even through our daily struggles. 

Ephesians 3:20-21 says, Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. 

God has done immeasurably more than all I could have asked or imagined, not in loud or jaw-dropping ways, but in those small, sweet moments which have moved mountains in my heart. And so I trust that He'll give us just what we need in the days ahead.