On Being the Wick

I have learned several substantially difficult lessons over the past two months. Foremost, I have become aware of a gross lack of grace within myself. These lessons are never fun to learn, but I have come to know that when walking with the Lord, it is folly to glaze over, or worse skip over altogether, these lessons. Although I would enjoy a fast forward button every once in a while, I wouldn't change a thing. It is within these difficult seasons that the mercy of the Lord is most clearly made visible to me.

Building a fire is brutal work. To build a campfire, the wood must first be found, cut down- broken. Then, it is ignited, scorched- set ablaze. Then, as it burns, it breaks down further. It snarls and mangles- unrecognizable from its first state. It is here, in the bruised, slipshod, burned out embers that the blaze burns hottest. Fire consumes. Yes, fire is used for warmth and light and comfort, but flames are also a force of nature that can lay waste to anything they touch. God is referred to in the book of Hebrews, as an "all-consuming fire." Have you ever paused to reflect on this? This is not a cute phrase! It will not be embroidered on a pillow anytime soon. Why? Inasmuch as fire is purifying, it is also terrifying. When faced with fire, truly, unequivocally faced with it, fire is all you see. It is all you know. Fire is all there is.

Similarly, I feel like a bonfire lately. I am a snarled, angry, burning mess. I am a pre-school teacher. Five days a week, I am surrounded by three-year-olds. Snotty- nosed, grubby handed, squishy hugs-giving three-year-olds. Pants pooping, angry yelling, biting, kicking, unaware and infuriating three-year-olds. I get so frustrated with my kids and suddenly I become someone I do not recognize. In my worst moments, I bite out my words with the intention of pain. I clip the ends of my sentences with a serious tone with the conviction that this time, that three-year-old who is OFF THE WALL hyper will actually take a nap.

It is on these days that I hear the gentle and heartbreaking whispers of the Father, "my Beloved, have I ever treated you with such disdain? Whatever you do to the least of these… remember? These children represent Me, my darling." My heart hears these whispers and is snapped back to the reality of grace received and grace withheld. I expect grace. I grubby, angry fingered demand grace from God, but yet, I run out of it by 10AM with three-year-olds.

I am finding that when I get to this point without taking time to breathe, my fire is fueled by angry expectation and not patience-filled understanding. I have no perception of their curious pent-up energy. I have no frame of mind in which grace is present.

These are usually the moments where my co-teacher, Courtney- my dream version of myself - says something lovely about the Lord, or my across the bathroom teacher friend Amanda comes in and shares a deep, giggle-filled, exhausted, exasperated breath with us. Little glimpses of stolen grace. There are little glimpses of glory in the kiss of a boo-boo or in the quiet exchange of hushed giggles in the corner or in the loud and raucous laughter of three-year-olds at lunch as they are just learning to make friends. There is grace given and received in the subtle, understanding head nod between teachers in cahoots in the hallway, or in the overwhelmingly supportive attitudes of our parents.

I cannot help but wonder if this is how the Lord sees me and delights in me: "Look at my daughter! Watch as she groans and grows and longs for things she does not yet comprehend fully. Look how far she has come! See how far I wish to take her!"

Being a teacher is HARD work, but so is being a three-year-old if you think about it. May my want to give grace always match my demand to receive it.

Let the wild rumpus start!

Songs of the Blog:

I'm Safer on an Airplane- Copeland

Golden Train- Justin Nozuka

Holocene- Bon Iver

It Must Suck to be Four Year Strong Right Now- Four Year Strong

Fire Never Sleeps- Jesus Culture

The Wick- Housefires

On sitting, waiting, wishing.

Sometimes life lines up perfectly and every single day that you wake up your feet hit the floor and you feel like you are just freaking nailing it. This past season has definitely NOT been that for me. In our culture, we worship safety. We constantly sell our souls for consistency and the ability to not feel like the bottom is dropping out. Well, for the second time in the last year and a half of my life, my world has been flipped, turned upside-down. I am not sure where the Lord is taking me and I am unsure of what my next season looks like and I am kind of digging it. 

I sleep best on vacation and the truth of that makes me a weirdo. Most people that I know, (shout-out to my mama) HATE sleeping anywhere but their own bed. Even the fanciest hotels or the most luxurious vacation destinations cannot provide them with the comfort that a night of rest at home makes available. I sleep best in situations that would be considered less than ideal for others. It might have something to do with the fact that I am narcoleptic, but I choose to believe that it is the Lord's strength in me. My mother has always said that the most crucial element to being a minister's wife is the ability to bloom where she is planted. I used to think she was off her rocker. Now, I am not so sure. 

This season now looks totally different than I assumed it would. What I thought would be a season of rest has turned into a season of sitting, waiting, and wishing. In Genesis, we are told the story of Isaac. You might know him better with the association of the names of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, but do you know his story? Really? I thought I did, but like most of you, I associate him either with his father being instructed to kill him in faithfulness, or his son multiplying like the stars. Here's the deal, that isn't what he should be famous for. He was faithful. This is his legacy. He was unwaveringly aware that the Lord was going to provide every single step of the way. Consider this story found in verses 2:14-25:

12 Then Isaac sowed seed in that land and received in the same year a hundred times as much as he had planted, and the Lord favored him with blessings.
13 And the man became great and gained more and more until he became very wealthy and distinguished;
14 He owned flocks, herds, and a great supply of servants, and the Philistines envied him.
15 Now all the wells which his father’s servants had dug in the days of Abraham his father, the Philistines had closed and filled with earth.
16 And Abimelech said to Isaac, Go away from us, for you are much mightier than we are.
17 So Isaac went away from there and pitched his tent in the Valley of Gerar, and dwelt there.
18 And Isaac dug again the wells of water which had been dug in the days of Abraham his father, for the Philistines had stopped them after the death of Abraham; and he gave them the names by which his father had called them.
19 Now Isaac’s servants dug in the valley and found there a well of living [spring] water.
20 And the herdsmen of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s herdsmen, saying, The water is ours. And he named the well Esek [contention] because they quarreled with him.
21 Then [his servants] dug another well, and they quarreled over that also; so he named it Sitnah [enmity].
22 And he moved away from there and dug another well, and for that one they did not quarrel. He named it Rehoboth [room], saying, For now the Lord has made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land.
23 Now he went up from there to Beersheba.
24 And the Lord appeared to him the same night and said, I am the God of Abraham your father. Fear not, for I am with you and will favor you with blessings and multiply your descendants for the sake of My servant Abraham.
25 And [Isaac] built an altar there and called on the name of the Lord and pitched his tent there; and there Isaac’s servants were digging a well.

If you have been following my journey, you know that the past almost entire year and a half of my life have been excruciating. Mentally and emotionally, I have been stripped bare. The Lord has been my portion, but most of my breaths felt shallow and my feet felt so unsure. Nothing I prayed for came true; that boy didn't marry me- everything hurt. Then, all of a sudden, I began to breathe deeply again. Deep breaths that hurt your lungs because they feel so good. I was so excited to enter a season of rest with the Lord. I prayed and decided to not go to seminary just yet because I just wanted to sit and breathe with Him. I was content to just be sitting.

Two weeks later, everything got upended once again. I am no longer a nanny like I have been this past year, I am a full-time preschool teacher and I just moved in with a sweet family in Fort Worth. The story I shared before about Isaac is resonating so deeply with me these days. Isaac refused to allow the circumstances around him challenge his knowledge that the Lord was going to work it out. He was thrilled to dig the well, confident that water would rise, and ready to get up and go if things began to deteriorate. He was good at the waiting. He bloomed where he was planted. 

Psalm 27:14 says, "Wait and hope for and expect the Lord; be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring. Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord." Later in the Word we are instructed to wait on the Lord “more than the watchmen wait for the morning.” Isaac could have easily and excusably given up when the people came out of nowhere and took his wells from him. Perhaps just as understandable would be the instinct to put up a huge fight. He could have justifiably said “ I PUT IN THE WORK! I DESERVE TO STAY!” Instead, he gathers his house and his wife and his mind and moves on. 

What is the point in choosing to bloom where you are planted but refusing to believe that the Lord has the ability to provide the water to help you grow? My papa has been more than supportive during this whole upheaval of norms in my life and last week he drops this nugget of wisdom into my brain: “you must endure the sacrifice before you receive the blessing.” So, while I sit, and while I wait, I pray that I don’t lose sight of my ability and freedom in the Lord to wish for big things. To limit the Lord on what I believe He can lead me into over these next few months would be foolish and unwise. I might not have a clue where I am going to be resting my head come December, but I know that for now, I am going to sleep easy in my bed that isn’t technically mine knowing that the Lord who "knew the boundaries of my dwelling places before the earth was formed" is the one watering my tomorrow. 

Songs of the blog:

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson

Plane- Jason Mraz

Heart of Life- John Mayer

Winter Winds- Mumford & Sons

Manhattan- Kings of Leon

On studying politics

"For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn't understand growth, it would look like complete destruction." -Cynthia Occelli

The thing about living life with The Lord is that it is all about perspective- you cannot see the end from the beginning. You are not allowed to. Sometimes the beginning, middle and near-end look like complete destruction. But God (my favorite word combination in the World, by the way) never sees what we see and is not limited to what we think. Ever. 

Last night, someone asked me what I would tell youth about following The Lord and learning His word. I replied, "I would tell them that Proverbs 2 promises that "wisdom shall enter your heart and knowledge shall be pleasant to you" and the Psalms promise that His precepts (the crap that you're supposed to obey, but sometimes it kind of sucks because it's the exact total opposite of what you want to do) "will be sweeter than the finest honey." 

I believe that this is where it gets dirty trying to walk with The Lord. It's easy to have a "go get 'em" and "yes, Lord!" attitude when things are all neatly lining up in a row in your life. The mud and the uphill starts when everything falls apart and you are broken and angry and worn out and really freaking pissed off that God didn't answer the prayers that you were CERTAIN He would. Things get so very, very messy when you begin to crawl up that muddy hill back towards Him. 

You're crawling and 

crawling and 

falling and 

crawling and 

sleeping and 

running and 

crying and 

crawling and 

crawling. 

Your fingernails are dirty and falling off and your knees are bleeding and your arms are burning and your throat is raw from screaming and 

you're 

the 

dirtiest 

of 

the 

dirty. 

That mountain- the really hard, pain in the ass mountain, is the messy stuff. When you're climbing it, it's all you see. 

It is all you should see. 

It is all there is. 

With each step and each inch, you have the privilege to get to know a little bit more about Christ. So, you fight. You claw and scratch and dig because at the very tippy top of that mountain is the wisdom of God and the knowledge of His precepts. Wisdom and knowledge that (just before you inevitably go tumbling down that mountain to start over again) are sweeter than the sweetest honey. 

He is worth it. 

He is always, always worth it all. 

I grew up doing mission work in Nashville and I fell in love with it. While I have every intention of visiting my beloved Nashville very soon, I am so dadgum glad that The Lord didn't listen to me when I asked for Him to send me to a big city- to my Nashville. He sent me here to Dallas- Fort Worth instead. This season of coming undone is without a doubt the hardest with Him I have ever had. 

Everything hurts and 

everything is good and 

everything sucks and 

everything needs Him. 

As I claw and dig and cuss and bleed up this mountain that looks like destruction, I'm learning that He is worth it and the amount that I hate this mountain will pale in comparison to how much I love His lessons I learn from it. 

I am undone. 

I am chaotic. 

I am messy. 

He is worth it. 

Songs of the blog:

Studying Politics- Emery

The Earth Falls Asleep (acoustic) -Abandon Kansas

Cripple Me- Elenowen

Such Small Hands- La Dispute

It Is Well- Bethel Music

Moving For the Sake of Motion- Underoath

On Ramblings of a Beggar

There is a certain fearlessness necessary to pursue your dreams. For me, Texas was less of a dream and more of an escape from what was quickly becoming a nightmare in Jackson. Mississippi was my home for six years and so much of me longs to return. 

Have you ever considered the possibility of time travel? I don't often. I have always been more of a blaze forward and worry about the details later kind of girl, but this year has forced me to do just this. One year ago today, this was the last day Will and I were together. We had taken six weeks to pray and fast (for me, most of my time was spent crying) and I could feel the conclusion coming soon. We had agreed to talk on Friday (May 31st) after he got off work. I told my boss when I went in for work at 6:30 that morning and mercifully, she came home super early that day so that I could go home and have some time with the Lord before William got there. 

During the break-up William so wisely said that "the way we tell this story has the potential to show everyone in our lives how much we love Christ and the gospel message more than ourselves." How very right he was! He also asked me to write a blog about our story so that people with questions could reference it if they need to, also he knew it would be cathartic for me. So, one year later, I think I might have the courage to do just that. So, here is my love letter to it all:

I read once that falling in love was like falling asleep- slowly and then all at once. Well, Mr. Green, I am narcoleptic. That rule doesn't apply to me. In fact, I fell in love quite the opposite- hard and immediately. 

He had cold ankles. No matter how much time has passed, this is the first thing that makes me sad and it was what I've missed the most. He also has one ringlet curl that grows behind his ear. He hates it. I am pretty sure it is my most favorite thing. I could tell by the way he breathed what kind of mood he was in and knew by just glancing at his face what his thoughts were. Every cell of my being desired to be his forever. Every moment further away from being with him causes me to feel as though instead of moving forward, my soul is leaving pieces of itself behind with every step- a trail of breadcrumbs snaking a map back to where my heart wants to go. 

He took me to Cheddars for our first date. (Fancy, right?) I will never forget the look of panicked euphoria that crossed over his face as he realized I desired to continue spending time with him. I am still unsure of the exact time I fell in love with him but it was somewhere between realizing he smelled good when I met him and playing with his hair in the front seat of his gold F-150. These events were less than a month apart. 

He saw me and admired me long before I knew him. He was an addict and had gotten into a really bad spot in his life, so he didn't feel worthy or interested in getting turned down by "the good-girl" at church. Spoiler alert: He got clean and I didn't turn him down. We met officially on the way to Passion 2012, but I only remember him very briefly until four days later on the drive home. He was confident, blonde, gorgeous, and charming. I never stood a chance. 

I could write forever about our first few months together. He asked permission for every single thing we did. To put it mildly, I hadn't been treated or treated myself well in any of my past relationships. To have a man ask to hold my hand a month in to us dating was such an indescribable breath of fresh air. This pattern continued a few months later with our first kiss and several months later on the Fourth of July when he told me that "I had bewitched him body and soul and that I was the love of his life." Pride and Prejudice was his favorite movie. Not a line, really- he can quote the whole thing.

It was only then that I began to allow myself to really, truly dream of a future with him. I was never the girl who planned her wedding as a child and I was certainly not expecting William to come into my life like he did. Despite all of that, there we were. I have journal upon journal entry from this time freaking out that my life was turning out so lovely. People Will and I hadn't talked to in years were starting to comment on how we were their favorite couple and how inspired they were by the Lord's obvious hand in it all. It was all very surreal and delightful. 

I fell in love with his family almost as much as I fell in love with him. His father is stoney, and was the hardest out of all of them to get to know. He loved getting a rise out of me and would usually do so by any means necessary. I used to be scared of the man William would be if he ended up exactly like Rick. I can say now with absolute full confidence that if William ends up having a fraction of the heart, loyalty and strength that Rick has, it will be an honor for anyone who knows him. His mother is the strongest woman I know. There is no competition for her in this category. Her sons never knew it, but for years, she would set alarms and wake up in the middle of the night and pray over their hearts as the whole house was sleeping. There wasn't a moment of their life that hadn't been prayed over. She longed to be the hands and feet of Christ and I have never met anyone who embodied it more. She (along with my own wonderful mother) solidified my desire to be a wife and mother and gave me an unbelievable example of how to do so to the glory of the Lord. His brothers. Oh, my heart. Bryce has the most incredible heart of any kid I have ever met. The Lord has already blessed him with some pretty gnarly gifts and it was a privilege and a joy to witness him grow into them. Rabbit is the love of my life. There were days and nights that I could have ripped his little punk head off, then, Will would lovingly remind me that I was only frustrated with him because we were the EXACT SAME person. That little curly headed weirdo was the best ever and it is him and our tickle fights more than anything else that I miss the absolute most. Well, that, and family game nights. 

I know that it seems like I don't remember anything negative, or that perhaps I have escalated Will into an idol that did no wrong the entire time we were together. That's most definitely not true. He sucked. There were things he would do or tones of voice that he would use with me that would make me absolutely come unglued. It wasn't until, probably, honestly too late in our relationship that we both realized that words have IMMENSE power and for the person who knows you better than anyone on the planet, words can easily be used as a weapon. Even though both our tendencies were for intellectual or emotional damage, we never fought. Not really, not until the end. We had four fights in the year and a half we were together. Three of them were absolutely necessary, all of them ended in him praying over us, and all of them spurred me on for the Kingdom. Even the qualities I absolutely hated about him helped me know more of Christ. I believe that this is why when I begin to ponder our relationship, the positive outweighs the negative. 1 Corinthians states that "love keeps no record of wrong." I believe that. I am living proof.

I have never heard him tell his side of our story. I wonder sometimes about the things he remembers. I wonder what those final days and weeks were like for him. I remember every moment so vividly. Know though, reader, that I could very likely have all detail wrong. So, if you talk to him, and the story isn't anything like this. Forgive me.

The ring had been pick out and it was beautiful. Upon his request, I had taken one of my close friends with me to get my official ring size and I had reported back to him. I was very adamant about not knowing any details whatsoever about the proposal, so once he had the ring information, my questions stopped. I knew that we were looking at spring 2014 so I had some inclination that it would happen in the coming months and by the end of the summer, but I tried (unsuccessfully mostly) not to dwell on it. This was the world I was living in.  

I know very little about what was going on with him in those final moments. What I do know is that the Lord was so glorified. I was away for a few days and as I was gone, he chose that time to really start digging in to the Word about husbands, wives, marriage, and the lot. It was within these lessons that his world began to unravel. He saw scriptures like, "he who finds a wife finds a good thing," and, "it is wise for a man to remain unwed so that he might focus on the Lord." Beyond that, he began reading that "a man cannot serve two masters." He came to me with his confusion and with a broken heart, asked for us to take a break to pray, fast, and seek counsel. 

During the next six weeks, I was a wreck. Though we didn't speak, I knew him, better than anyone on the planet. He was a wreck too. About four weeks in, a movie came out that we had been waiting months to see together, so he took me. I felt like I was being tortured. I cried the entire time. I refused to touch him. I think I knew that if I held his hand or hugged him once, I would't be able to stop. I would've (and could've) manipulated him into staying with me. Is that really what I want? To force someone to love me? No. Hell no. No, thank you. I think he thought that I was being mean or stand-offish. I assure you, neither was the case. I loved him even then. Even when I was supposed to stop. I was selfish though. The next weekend, I got baptized in the reservoir. As everyone in our church was walking down to the water, I marched over to him and gently asked him to kiss my forehead. He did. It will forever be my favorite kiss he ever gave me. 

We were members of the same church and the sweet, wonderful people of Grace Community Church in Jackson loved us both WELL during this time. We received sound wisdom and many of them cried and prayed with me. One of them, Emily, sent me the verses from Hosea 2:14-20 along with the best smelling candle ever. Both the verses and the gesture changed my life! The passage states "¹⁴ Therefore, behold, I will allure her [Israel] and bring her into the wilderness, and I will speak tenderly and to her heart.

¹⁵ There I will give her her vineyards and make the Valley of Achor [troubling] to be for her a door of hope and expectation. And she shall sing there and respond as in the days of her youth and as at the time when she came up out of the land of Egypt.

¹⁶ And it shall be in that day, says the Lord, that you will call Me Ishi [my Husband], and you shall no more call Me Baali [my Baal].

¹⁷ For I will take away the names of Baalim [the Baals] out of her mouth, and they shall no more be mentioned or seriously remembered by their name.

¹⁸ And in that day will I make a covenant for Israel with the living creatures of the open country and with the birds of the heavens and with the creeping things of the ground. And I will break the bow and the sword and [abolish battle equipment and] conflict out of the land and will make you lie down safely.

¹⁹ And I will betroth you to Me forever; yes, I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy.

²⁰ I will even betroth you to Me in stability and in faithfulness, and you shall know (recognize, be acquainted with, appreciate, give heed to, and cherish) the Lord." I have an entire blog post planned for the richness of this passage but, for now, know that the main lesson is that I was the betrothed Bride of Christ always and a wife on earth…maybe. I held onto this truth like it was the oxygen I needed to breathe. I still do.

I was in bed when he got to my house that afternoon. I knew I would know by his face as I opened the door what he was there to say- I did. I walked straight back into my bedroom and got under the covers and he came and sat on the couch across from me. He tried to make a joke about the weather but I wasn't having a second of that. So, he got on with it. He was silent after he spoke that we were breaking up. He let me cry and read him prayers and journal entries and never once asked me to get over it or to stop. He then said really smart, lovely things that I cannot remember because I was busy memorizing his face. The little scar on his face that he HATED. That curl above his ear that he was keeping short at the time, but I knew the truth! The way his breath caught as he left my house. 

It has been a year. I think I want to vomit at that realization. I have 365 days of memories without him. How strange!  I cannot imagine how tired people are of hearing about him. I am moving on- I am dating or at least flirting a little, but it is all pretty frivolous. My heart remains as much his today as it was that day in Cheddars. I have learned some very important lessons from the Lord though:

1- I am strong. A broken, wrecked mess, I packed up my whole life and moved it six and a half hours away to a city of 8 million where I knew exactly 9 people. I am astounded by the resilience that I have seen the Lord work in me this past year. Astounded. 

2. When I love, I love big. I have never really been the type to do things halfway. This past year has only proved that fact. 

3. The Lord is faithful when I am faithless. I am in Texas now. I am surrounded by a growing number of friends that very intentionally love me and my mess. They continue to ask me how I am doing emotionally even though they know that they answer is going to be something about Will. They still ask and may God bless them for it.

4. I will be fine. The flip side of losing everything for the sake of Christ is that in Him, I am fully satisfied. I might hurt, I might cry, I might not understand, but I DO NOT lack.

5. Not all days are bad days which means that good days are coming. "You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with all of your heart." This is a promise to me in His Word. My joy is in the Lord. Lucky for me, He is infinite and worthy.

I have had several people ask me if the last year has been worth it. I believe that this is when I begin daydreaming about a time machine. There is a saying that "it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all." No offense meant to that idiot, but I wholeheartedly disagree! Life would be infinitely easier if none of the William moments would have happened. Emptier and less fun perhaps, but easier? I have no doubt. The truth about life though is that it takes the bitter to help you savor the sweet. I have officially applied to Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and should know their answer by the end of next week. I turn 25 in two weeks exactly. Life is happening all around me! For now, for as long as I am allowed, I am going to remember the bitter so that I might more accurately savor the sweet. 

Songs of the Blog:

Ramblings of a Beggar- Shawn McDonald

Wedding Dress- Derek Webb

Take the World, but Give Me Jesus- Ascend the Hill

Slumber- NEEDTOBREATHE

California- Copeland

Only Love- Ben Howard

My Oh My- Macklemore and Ryan Lewis

An Open Letter to Chicago

Dear Chicago,

I have never been to visit you, but within your limits now lives one of my life's most precious things. Her name is Taylor and she is sunshine and giggles and everything good. She is 20 going on 75 going on 6 and every day of her life is an adventure. 

She loves Jesus more than anything else in the whole of the universe (even more than pizza) but she is still learning about Him. So, provide friends who will encourage her, and give her a quick punch in the throat if her life gets crazy and she needs one. Let her love you like Jesus would because that's all she really wants in life. 

You have tall buildings and I need you to promise to be kind to her as she climbs on them and takes pictures from them and risks her life to do hoodrat things on them. 

You have pizza. Right now, her favorite is pineapple and cheese slices that are as big as her head. You're more about that deep dish life, but she adapts quickly! So, I need you to feed her all the pizza she could ever dream of, OK, Chicago?

I need you to provide fun hills and slick surfaces for her to longboard down when she has had a hard day, OK? To her, a long boarding session is a warm hug and since I am not there to make her cupcakes and yell at her for being all introverted and sad, I need you to let her longboard all over, OK?

Neither one of us does "girly" well. In fact, before her, I pretty much avoided it forever. Then, Taylor came into my life and refused to allow me to accept "lonely" as normal. She introduced me to all of my new favorite people in Texas, and I am so excited for her to love on the people of your fine city. But, know, Chicago, sometimes Taylor gets really sad for no reason. Sometimes there isn't anything else to do but give a little attitude right back and then go bring her pancakes. (Leave off the butter.)

You're a mess, Chicago with the murders and gang violence and whatnot, but you aren't allowed to hurt her, OK? If you hurt her, there is a whole slew of folks here in DFW that will rip your throat right out. 

Today, I told her dad that there is something about Taylor that demands your best self.  She brightens up the worst days and makes good days become the most memorable of your life. She loves adventure, basketball, and Being as an Ocean. She makes the real you better, just by being a part of your life.

Now you, Chicago, get to have the immense privilege of having her with you. 
So, be better, Chicago. 

Be better because Taylor Tippett is the best.
Be happy because Taylor Tippett is sunshine.
Be hoodrat because Taylor Tippett is hoodrat.

Finally, my dearest TipTup, Be rad. Eat pizza. Never change. and Guard your heart. For real.


With all of my love,

Ashlee Walworth


Songs of the blog:
Let it Go- Idina Menzel
Dear G-d- Being as an Ocean
Walls- Emery
Burn this City- Cartel
Acquired in Heaven- Beautiful Eulogy

On Tasting and Seeing the Sweetest of Love

Somewhere along the road from childhood to adulthood, I forgot one very important truth: hurting hurts. 

As a nanny, I have been privy to many different parenting techniques:

1) the "don't let her cry a single tear without picking her up" technique
2) the "let them cry when there isn't a legitimate reason, but comfort them when pain is involved" technique
3) the "well, they won't do it twice, will they?" technique, AKA the "rub some dirt in it" technique

I am unsure of how I will parent my children if I am blessed with that privilege, but I do know that none of those "good parenting" techniques are ones I usually attribute to God. When I hurt, I expect Him to not only make me feel better, but I get upset with Him that He "let me" get hurt in the first place. Further more, I begin to doubt His ability to save me should a harmful or hurtful situation arise in the future. 

I talk a big talk. 

With the ministry the Lord is calling me and gently leading me into, it allows me to sound much more spiritual than I want to be. I get to talk about how my Father has saved me and ransomed me and redeemed some pretty terrible situations. I leave out the part about how I was sobbing and screaming in the middle of my kitchen floor two nights ago because I had forgotten, once again, that hurting hurts. 

This season of my life has been lovely. Truly, lovely. I have met fellas and ladies here in Texas that genuinely care about my faith, life, and happiness. I have a job that (almost) every single day, I love. I have a home that fulfills my needs more than I could have ever asked or imagined He would. On top of all of that, the Rangers started the 2014 MLB season today! May His name be praised for His good gifts!!

Under (perhaps over) all of that, I hurt. I am in active pain. I keep having to remind myself that I need to live my life like today matters because I am not guaranteed a tomorrow. I know, that sounds all pintrest-y but really, James had some things to say about it:

"Come now, you who say, Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a city and spend a year there and carry on our business and make money. Yet you do not know [the least thing] about what may happen tomorrow. What is the nature of your life? You are [really] but a wisp of vapor (a puff of smoke, a mist) that is visible for a little while and then disappears [into thin air]. You ought instead to say, If the Lord is willing, we shall live and we shall do this or that [thing]." James 4:13-15

I was praying big prayers around this time last year. I could see so clearly the path before me and instead of walking one foot in front of the other and allowing the Lord to raise the road to meet my feet, I sprinted forward, refusing any path to the contrary. In a flash, I am now living in Texas and in two months there will be an entire year of memories without William as an active participant in my life. This makes very little sense to me. 

I was never a girly girl. I never planned my wedding as a little girl. Sometimes I wonder if this was the trigger to my pain. It wasn't a normal thing for me. Desiring the good, bad, and ugly of marriage was never something I expected. Now, much to the chagrin of the folks around me, I am still dwelling on the past. I still wake up more mornings than not having to remind myself: 1. I am in Texas. 2. William is not. 3. I am OK. 

Have you ever slipped on a slick surface and landed on your tailbone? While you are slipping, your legs fly out from under you, and you are breathless, all of your senses are bracing themselves for inevitable pain. Then, BAM! you hit the cold, hard floor. Every thing hurts all at once. In the deep recesses of your brain, you KNOW you are OK. There on the floor though, you are in pain, and you are embarrassed, and you're probably giggling a bit from the hysteria inducing combination of the two. That emotion is what I wake up to every morning. Painful, giddy, hysteria. 

I am so tired. I am so weary from the sick, strange sadness that won't clear.

I understand. I truly, with all of my heart, am so delighted and proud of the way I have gotten to see the strength of the Lord through William throughout this past year. Any semblance of sanity I have about the whole thing can be attributed to W.'s constant (sometimes infuriating) push to walk in the Lord's will for the both of us. I understand. On a Friday in May, he told me "how we treat this situation and each other from now on will be our witness of how much we love the gospel more than anything else." He was right. Most days, I love this. I have tasted and seen more of the sweetness and worth of the gospel more in the past year than I have in all of my other years combined. So much of the time though, this truth is bittersweet because it reveals the true nature of my heart and more days than I want to admit, I desire what I want or wanted far above and beyond what the Lord is currently placing in front of me. 

I get told a lot of things about how to make this time easier is to just not think about it as much (ummm, OK), about how it's clear I just need to spend more time with the Lord (probably true), or about how I need to just "stop being emotional about it"(have these people even met me??) Ten months into this mess, I am certain of one thing-  there is no road map. There are no rules in this phase of life I am in other than to "walk after the Lord [my] God and reverently fear Him and keep His commandments and obey His voice and serve Him and cling to Him." -Deuteronomy 13:4

Cling to Him. 

Cling to the promise that His love is better than life. 

Cling to His goodness. 

Cling to His coat-tails when I don't have the tenacity or strength to run into His arms. 

I am a mess. 

I am an emotional jokeshow. 

I am the Bride of Christ.

I am beloved.

I am redeemed and redeemable.

He is good- even when His good doesn't look like what I asked for.

Hurting hurts, but I know now more than ever, there is beauty in broken things.

Songs of the blog:

Who are we fooling?- Brooke Fraser

I breathe You in, God- Bryan and Katie Torwalt

Able- NEEDTOBREATHE

Nothing Fancy- Dave Barnes

Forgive me- Missy Higgins

Give me one reason- Tyrone Wells, feat. Jason Reeves

On Bringing a Knife to a Gun Fight

Several words in my (almost) twenty five years of life are tossed around to describe my personality. I have heard: fun, loud, intimidating, spunky, determined, flirty, happy, saved, crazy, and loving. I have known my entire life that the Lord blessed me with what we in the South politely call "a big personality." 

There are two descriptive words that have been haunting me lately: meek and mild. 

To me, these are desirable qualities. I would love to be able to have the personality of women I admire. They are gentle, quiet, receptive, and adorned with grace and patience. I posit that my covetousness is the Christian version of "straight vs. curled hair" debate amongst women. We see what "they" have and it makes us aware of what we "lack." 

I "lack" a gentle personality. Heck, the only thing "gentle" about me is that I am only five feet tall. I love with all I have, I hurt with all I am, and most of the time, I express my emotions with little-to-no filter. For the last three years, I have been all-together ashamed of my abrasiveness. Recently, this brain-bomb dropped: What if the trait I so wish I could alter is the thing others see and admire? 

Let's take a minute to see what the Word has to say in Luke 10: 38-42:

"As they continued their travel, Jesus entered a village. A woman by the name of Martha welcomed him and made him feel quite at home. She had a sister, Mary, who sat before the Master, hanging on every word he said. But Martha was pulled away by all she had to do in the kitchen. Later, she stepped in, interrupting them. “Master, don’t you care that my sister has abandoned the kitchen to me? Tell her to lend me a hand.” The Master said, “Martha, dear Martha, you’re fussing far too much and getting yourself worked up over nothing. One thing only is essential, and Mary has chosen it—it’s the main course, and won’t be taken from her.” (The Message)

My theory is that, like me, Mary has ADHD. Mary wasn't ignorant of her surroundings. She is aware that the house needed to be clean, the kids needed food, homework and papers were due, and the 
laundry needed to laundered. Yes, Mary was aware of those things, but, she chose to focus on the one thing her brain decided was most important- Jesus. I wish that my outbursts, procrastinations, and general Sonic the Hedgehog way of bowling through life's situations would all tie back to Christ. (Spoiler alert for my new friends: they don't.)

I believe the point to be this: some girls are Martha. They can do laundry, memorize scripture, bounce a perfect, giggling baby boy on their hip as they whip up a delightful meal for their husband right before they all do family bible study together. I KNOW those women. They are incredible, delightful, wise, and some of the greatest friends and leaders I have ever known. 

For just a moment, I would like to raise my rawkfist in solidarity for the women who can't get their crap together from one moment of life to the next. We are the dirty dishes leaving, semi-regular showering, loud, raucous bunch that roll into church as the doors are closing with wet hair, and a million emotions threatening to boil over at any moment. I'm also willing to bet, if we searched hard enough, I am certain we could find a stain or two on our dress or an old bobby pin in our hair ("WHEN DID THAT GET THERE? WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I WORE BOBBY PINS?!).

I have this crazy vision for women. What if instead of seeing ourselves as "less than" perhaps we could begin rejoicing in the versions of ourselves that the Lord declares to be lovely? 

"Your God is present among you,
    a strong Warrior there to save you.
Happy to have you back, he’ll calm you with his love
    and delight you with his songs." Zepheniah 3:17 (The Message)

This passage is so powerful. Hear this, daughters (and sons) of the king: your God is present among you. 

He is right there in the middle of your hot mess. 

He is just as much there on the days where by miracle of miracles you pretty much have all your crap together. He is there on mornings that you just can't get out of bed because to get out of bed would mean having to accept that your life still isn't exactly what you want and sometimes the pain of this realization makes it hard to remember how to breathe. He is there on days when divine appointments lead to having a really, really fun day right smack dab in the middle of your jacked up emotions. He is THERE when you are sad. He is THERE when you are so mad at Him that you could scream from the rooftops that you just don't understand his plan this time. He is there in the waiting. He is there in the joy. He is there on the days when you are delighted to be alive, and he is there on the days when death seems like an acceptable trade-off for the grief. 

Beyond all the differences between one personality type and the other, I encourage you, friends, begin to ask the Lord to reveal how He sees you. 

You are LOVELY. 
You are BLESSED. 
You are REDEEMED. 
You are DELIGHTFUL. 
You are WORTHY. 
You are SAVED. 

If only for a moment, don't see your personality, testimony, lack-of knowledge, or appearance as a burden. Strive to see yourself as His betrothed, beloved, accepted Bride. He loves us exactly as we are and through HIS sanctification the areas that need refining to better glorify Him will get there over time. 

Dear ones, sit in the calmness that comes from the knowledge that trying to fit in to tiny little boxes of what other people are doing is a lot like bringing a knife to a gun fight when you have a strong Warrior mighty, able, and willing to save you.




Songs of the blog:
Creating Something Out of Nothing, Only To - Norma Jean
Awake My Soul- Derek Webb
Saints Heart in a Sinner's Skin- Sean McConnell
Song of the Lamb- Harvest Bashta
Mighty Warrior- Rick Pino
Maybe You Can Love Me Anyway- Sean McConnell