restlesslycontent

Lately, I’ve had several occasions to watch the sun start to come up on my way into work. It’s my favorite time of day – when dark gives way to new opportunities. Just like so many times in life. That one ray of sunshine starts to breakthrough with fresh possibilities. It’s in the stillness before the day quickly runs off with new To-Do Lists that hopefully become Done Lists. It’s the time I am most settled and in tune. It’s when I am most likely to be reminded of why I am where I am. Whose I am.

Last night, JD asked me how I was doing. He’s my son, so he isn’t looking for the same answer that you would just give anyone – he’s asking because he wants to know how his mama is really doing. I answered with the first thing that came to mind – Son, I am right where the Lord wants me and there is peace in that.

Peace when life is busy. Peace when all the balls are in the air. Peace when things change with a quickness. Peace when I crawl in bed at night with a word of thankfulness for another day. Peace.

Knowing that you are where you are supposed to be doesn’t mean that weariness won’t creep in. Goodness, there wouldn’t be a whole scripture in the Bible that starts with – Let us not grow weary in well doing – if there wasn’t a time you would feel weary. It doesn’t mean you know exactly where the next step is. It doesn’t even mean that you always do everything just right. Or that you won’t have frustrations and questions.

But it does mean peace.

I drove in today, watching the sun try to wake up, singing along with the song I woke up with in my heart, so very thankful for peace.

Thank you, Lord, for this season. Where you so greatly remind me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. It’s the whisper in the morning that resonates with me all day.

There’s a joy in my soul

And it rises like the morning

This I know for sure

That Your grace is enough

And Your promise never breaking

I give my song to You

Leading up to the New Year, I felt a stirring in my spirit. I know the a new year can bring about thoughts of change and hopes for the future, but this was a little different. It felt bigger. Maybe even a little scarier. Not in the sense that I was afraid, but more so in the sense that I am on the brink of something more than I have believed for.

I cannot say that I am someone who has trusted easily. Unfortunately, as with a lot of folks, my early life set up a pattern where trust was hard to find and even harder to believe in. Being hurt by those who were supposed to love you was much easier for me to relate to. I could count that if you said you loved me it was probably painful, full of uncertainty, and wouldn’t last. I equated being loved with doing everything right. It all had to be just right. Let’s be real – that isn’t love, nor is that sustainable. And I sure didn’t do everything right. I screwed up on a regular basis.

I’m pretty sure I did not know real love until my son was born. In the beginning I was so worried that I was going to be a horrible mama. You talk about pressure? I wanted to make sure that he always knew I was in his corner. I would have taken down the biggest giant for that boy…and in some ways I did. I grew up going to church, but I started seeking the Lord when I became a mom. I needed guidance to show me how I was supposed to be. I found my identity as a mom within the pages of the Bible, with help from JD’s granny – and a lot of trial by fire.

Before I was 25, I was a divorced single mom (but not a single parent as those who know us know well) working nightshift at Waffle House. I was still going to church, and while I had trusted the Lord to show me how to be as a mama, that was about the extent of my trust. Oh, I said I trusted Him – and if you asked me, I would have told you that I did. However, I looked at Him the only way I knew how to look at people – and that was with a timid hope that I would be just enough for Him to not leave.

But y’all – that is how amazing the Lord is. He began to slowly but surely show me that I could and still can trust Him in all areas. The ones I gladly turned over. The ones I held onto. Not only could I trust him with my faults and failures, but I could turn over the dreams easily articulated, and the ones that I still can hardly find the words to express.

I was telling someone today that when I look back on my life, where I am today and where He brought me from, it amazes me to see how patient and loving He was and is. There have been years that have led up to this stirring in my spirit. Years of small steps of trusting – and Him proving time and again that His word never returns void in my life.

As I began to pray for the New Year, one word kept coming up in my heart – steadfast.

You see, those years of small steps led me to know exactly where my hope is found. It created in me a confidence so deeply rooted that it can’t be taken away. Somehow those doubts of ever being enough, were replaced with a relief of knowing that I always was enough.

This year (and every year) I believe the Lord has called me to remain steadfast. Not just for myself, but for those I have been impressed to pray for – not just pray for, but stand believing firmly that His plan will come to fruition. And while I haven’t even shared with them who they are – I believe a time will come when we will rejoice with joy for what the Lord has done. In my own life, I am praying some big scary prayers – and I cannot wait to see the Lord work. I’m talking about consistently fervent prayers like never before.

You see folks, people are looking for someone who has survived the fight and lived to tell the tale. They aren’t looking for someone who says they will pray and then says one or two words and promptly forgets. They need someone to grab hold and not let go when it gets hard. To believe when all else looks lost. To know that they know where the trust is found.

I am so thankful that the Lord took a young woman who could not trust and made her into a steadfast warrior who fiercely loves and fiercely trusts.

I’m even more thankful that He is not done.

This is a beautiful life.

I cannot believe that is has been over two years since I last updated this blog. While I share a lot on social media, this is a space I often found myself being more vulnerable – and maybe that is the problem. Because, who really wants to be vulnerable? At least, who really wants to be openly vulnerable? We all, after all, are vulnerable whether we want to admit it or not.

Last Sunday, a message was preached that has stuck with me. Honestly, it was a hard message to hear – and I was supremely irritated that I was on the second row at church and almost busted out crying during the sermon. I did not, but I’m pretty sure it was only by will alone – and also possibly because I was squeezing my own hand, super uptight, and tense. But I want to remember it. So here I am, dusting off the old blog, and reminding myself that there is strength in vulnerability.

Sometimes I go to church and it is like the message was prepared after reading my mail – all up in my business. In this case, I could not hide it because I had written on Facebook just an hour or so before church about how Christmas wasn’t always my favorite holiday, due to the fact that it was not an especially joyful time in my house growing up. It only became my favorite holiday when I was able to start helping others at Christmas.

As the message started, our pastor was talking about how growing up he and his sister loved Christmas because they always had the expectation that they would have something waiting for them on Christmas morning – and how he realized that it wasn’t that way for everyone. And how sometimes our trust in the Lord is colored by our disappointments with people in life. We wonder if we are seen. Whoa. That was hard. It cut to my heart in a way that hadn’t happened in a while. Especially as he went on to talk about how we allow ourselves to believe that where we are is good enough. We don’t need anything else. Or even hope for anything else. Sweet Lord, by this point, I was wholeheartedly wishing the sermon was finished so that I could rush out of the church. I was wishing I had stayed on my row third from the back. What was I thinking moving up? Clearly I am not a front of the church person.

I began to ask myself when was the last time I allowed myself to hope with breathless anticipation? In all areas of life? You see, I have no doubt that the Lord has been faithful – and that His provision has seen me through – but there are some areas I have found it hard to pray over. I have found it hard to believe – not that He can do something for me, but that He will. This is just me being honest on a Sunday night. I doubt I’m alone. Maybe there are others, who like me, find it very easy to trust in some areas – and yet act as if He is not interested in all areas. I keep that part to myself saying that He has already done so much, that there isn’t reason to bring it all to Him.

I think this message was so hard, because it wasn’t for the person dealing with forgiveness or bitterness or being malcontent – rather it was speaking to a person who feels happy and even thankful, but has not allowed themselves to feel that anticipation for great things in all areas for a long time. It was speaking directly to me. To understand that it is not more faith that is needed, but a higher level of expectation. It is knowing that you can place your hopes and dreams safely into the hands of the One that has never disappointed.

It’s a week later, and that message won’t leave me alone. It has sat within my spirit all week. There is a building anticipation that is taking place within my heart – and to be honest, it kind of scares me a little bit. It’s like standing on top of a high dive logically knowing that you can jump and it will be okay, but having to overcome the inherent desire to go back down the stairs and ease into the pool.

So here I am, Lord. A little nervous, but a lot excited. Ready to give it all to You and believe. With breathless anticipation.

This is a beautiful life.

We occasionally sing this song in church about how the Lord is jealous for us. Honestly, it’s not one of my favorites – even though I don’t have a good reason for it not to be – just that it isn’t.  Yet, it still gets stuck in my head every now and then.  Like today. I’m getting ready to go to church, singing this song, and it occurs to me….

I know it’s easy to say what I would or would not stand for in a relationship, being as I am single and all, but I do know that I don’t want to be with someone who invokes a sense of jealousy.  I guess maybe it’s because I view jealousy as a sign that one is not confident in where they stand in a relationship – either because they are lacking self esteem or because they do not feel assured of the place they hold in their partner’s life.  I do not lack in self esteem, so if I felt jealous over someone it would be because I did not feel assured of my role in their life.  This would not do well for me.  Period.

Yet, the Bible does talk about God being a jealous God.  That He does long for our affection.  And y’all that thought made me feel a little broken this morning.  Maybe a little convicted.

I want my eyes to be so firmly transfixed on Him, that there is never a doubt where my affection lies.  This life can be busy.  Oftentimes I’m not turning away based on some great transgression I’m trying to hide – rather that I am distracted.  I run from one place to the next, knowing I am secure in His love for me, but not being intentional in consistently carving out time in my life to sit and just really meditate on His word.  I take His love for granted.  If this was an earthly relationship, and I was on that end, I can 100% tell you that it would not work for me.  It would not work for me to lie down at night having only been spared a few passing words, but not any depth, over a period of time.  I would long for that connection.  I would worry over it.

As I stood there singing this morning, going through my routine, I said a prayer – one that I want to remember.  One in which I reminded myself Who I belong to, and where my affection lies.  Just like we have to be intentional with those we love, I have to be intentional in my time with Him.

Thank you, Lord, for that reminder.

This is a beautiful life.

 

Y’all, I’m not even going to sugarcoat it, I about had an old fashioned Pentecostal revival in my car on the way home just now from the grocery store.  The morning started out pretty normal (for me) – I got up early, dressed in normal Saturday clothes for this time of year – long sleeve t, jeans, flip flops, hair pulled back in a pony tail – ready to grocery shop.  While getting ready, I was channeling my inner Kelly Clarkson, scaring Cheese and Crackers the cats, because we all know I sound more like one of those screaming goats than I ever will Kelly Clarkson, but whatever.  Side note: If you’ve never been judged and found lacking by a cat – you probably don’t have one.  ha!  Truth.

I sang my way all the way up to the grocery store, where, to my delight, they have changed their normal Waylon Jennings soundtrack – which I love – to Christmas.  Patty Loveless and I sand Christmastime is Coming, while I loaded up some Conecuh sausage, cabbage, stuff for homemade hot chocolate, and whatever else was on my list.  And none of this has to do with my story, except that it was just a normal Saturday morning.

I got back in my car, and my music shuffled to Kelly Clarkson singing “Because of You” – and that is a song that gets me in my feels, even though I don’t listen to it often because I believe our words are powerful, and these lyrics are beautifully haunting in how accurate they could have described my life at some point.

And then it happened, out of nowhere – I’m singing along and it hits me: Thank you, Lord! Thank you!  Because of You – the story of my life – of my heart – of my completeness – is so much less “Because of You” and exponentially more “Because He Lives”.  Y’all, I was flooded immediately with such an overwhelming understanding of all He has done in my life and all I have to be so thankful for.

He turned a life that could have been defined by past hurts and fear into a life complete in knowing who holds my future – who held my past – and Who brought me right here to this moment.

Okay, I’m off – I still have groceries to put away and I’m firing up a little “Whole Lotta Woman” – because honestly any song that talks about being a woman and includes grits and hot biscuits is definitely a song that should be enjoyed while in my wheelhouse of a kitchen, cranking up my crockpot – getting ready to own my goat screaming.  “I’m a whole lotta woman….with classic confidence.”

This is a beautiful life.

It has been a while since I tended my blog, but I woke up with something on my heart this morning.  Actually, I woke up thinking I was burning something….and then realized it actually got cold enough last night that my heat kicked on for the first time since last Winter.  Anyways, I digress…

The month of November is almost upon us.  Which means the Holiday Season is right around the corner.  If you’ve known me any length of time, you know that this time of year is when I most find myself praying for people.  Those I know. Strangers. People in general.  I am a person who looks people in the eyes – no matter where I’m at – and I’ve never been able to hide from the truth staring back at me. This time of year can be very stressful, and can only seem to highlight what is missing in a life. In a world that claims to be easier to connect than ever before, people feel less connected and more overlooked.

Two years ago, I decided that for the month of November, instead of just posting what I was thankful for every single day, I would instead tell someone I was thankful for them. It wasn’t just people I know.  It was the cashier at the store who checks me out every week, or the waitress who served dinner one night so I didn’t have to cook, or maybe it was one of my sisters, or a co-worker, or a long ago friend I hadn’t connected with in a while.  You know what I found?  I can’t tell you how many times I was told that the waitress or the cashier hadn’t been told a simple “thank you” or “Happy Thanksgiving!” While it initially made me sad, it also warmed my heart – and I can tell you that I was more blessed with having told someone that I appreciate them than they were in receiving it.

In this upcoming season, I would encourage all of us to take a second to look at those around us.  A thankful heart sometimes takes practice, and sometimes it’s not easy to tell strangers you appreciate them, but I can guarantee some of y’all need to be telling the barista you see every morning what a godsend they are in your life.  =)  Some of y’all, there are people in your life who would gladly hunt down that barista and tell them what a godsend they are, because that coffee makes you easier to deal with.  Truth!

And, y’all, we need to see the beauty closer to home, too.  It can be even easier to overlook someone in our life who should be high on our list of people we appreciate.  We rush through life comfortable in the fact that they know us and love us and we feel the same about them, but when was the last time we sincerely told them how much we are thankful for them? Sometimes it’s easier to tell strangers how you feel – and that just shouldn’t even be a thing.  It shouldn’t.

The upcoming weeks will be filled. With laughter. Togetherness. Some stress. Hopefully even more relaxation. And thankfulness.  A month of being intentional with my thankfulness.  Yes, I’m thankful for my home, a car that runs, and a million other first world conveniences, but my prayer is that I will always first and foremost be thankful for the people I share life with – whether we walk hand-in-hand, or if it is a brief encounter.

 

Be intentional.

Thankful.  All year.

It’s a beautiful life.

 

When I was growing up, I often imagined what my family would look like – you know, once I had a husband and kids of my own.  I pictured a little house on a piece of land, at least two kids, but probably four. Simple things. A fairly common simple life.

The truth is, I think all of us have an innate desire to be part of a family. We want to have people who know us and love us – flaws and all.  Yet, the sad truth is, we can spend so much time searching for what we think family is, that we don’t take the time to appreciate the reality. We look for Hallmark, when the reality is a whole lot grittier than that. So, what does family look like?

 

Last Friday night, I sat in the midst of a large group of people, all waiting to watch one young man walk across a stage and get his diploma.  That group included my best friend of almost 20 years and her family, my sisters, nieces and nephew, brothers-in-law, an ex-brother-in-law, a sister’s boyfriend, my younger sister’s best friend of over 20 years – who is also one of my closest friends, JD’s dad, stepmom, granny, grandpa, aunt and uncle, step grandpa and his wife, a few people from church, and even a couple of band moms and one of their sons (although they weren’t just there for JD).  I had to smile.

This is real life. Real life sometimes isn’t as simple as a husband and four children. Sometimes real life and real family looks like rows of people, holding up cardboard cutouts of your only child’s face, screaming loudly, as 18 years of love, discipline, and growth culminates in a handshake and diploma.

It looks like heartache and redemption. Like sorrow and joy. It looks like celebrating the fact that no matter how differently life turns out than you once had imagined – in some ways it is sweeter than you ever would have wished for.

This is a beautiful life.

 

Twenty years ago today, I remember getting ready to walk out onto the high school football field, and hearing a teacher tell us to look around as this would be the last time we were ever in the same room with all of these people again.  I looked around and saw faces and smiles almost as familiar as my own.  We stood there in that moment in time, ready for the next step.  Honestly, I’m pretty sure I felt sick because I just envisioned myself being the one to trip across the metal stage, and fall flat on my face.  Looking back, I’m sure I couldn’t have been the only person who thought that might be their fate.  ha!  Alas, I did not trip. My name was called, I shook hands, took my rolled up “diploma”, smiled, and made it back to my seat in one piece.  Tassels were moved, caps were thrown…and twenty years passed in the blink of an eye.

I look back now, and in some ways, life seemed much more complicated at 18.  Every decision seemed like the one that would define you – at least it did for me.  It was a time of trying to figure out what the next steps were, and having no clue what my future would look like.  I heard teachers talk during my high school days of how I would one day look back on those days and wish I was once again in those halls.  I really hoped that wouldn’t be true.  Not that I didn’t enjoy high school – just that I didn’t plan to live my life looking back.  So, class of 2017, let me tell you some of my truths:

Life won’t always seem as big as it does now.  Every decision won’t leave you mired with self doubt.  People will eventually stop asking you what you’re going to do with your life.  Then you’ll start asking yourself.  And that’s okay.  You might change careers. Goals. Have kids. A spouse….or two.  Or none.  Maybe you’ll travel. A little of it all. Some of you might make a poor life choice. Don’t count yourself out. People are going to judge you no matter what you do – or who you are. So be exactly who you are meant to be.  On the other hand, some people are going to love you no matter who you are. You’ll be hurt. Times will be hard. You’ll get up. You’ll lie in bed at night and think that you were pretty sure adults are supposed to have it more together than you do. Some nights you might lie there and be in awe at just all that you are able to juggle.  You’ll pat yourself on the back for being a one-man-band, or keeping up with your own three-ring circus.  Then you just might realize you need a day on the couch. You won’t always do the right thing – even if you try. Sometimes you’ll be at a loss for words. You’ll experience more life – and with that, you’ll experience the pain of death. You’ll realize your own mortality, and how fragile life can be – but you’ll also fully realize just how amazingly beautiful life is. And hopefully, you’ll look back and realize that you did some things in those 20 years that stand out far above the memories that echo in the halls of that old high school.

Twenty years later, I sit here and I am two days away from sitting at another graduation.  Young adults will walk in while “Pomp and Circumstance” plays from the band,  and family members will be snapping pictures, waving, and pointing out their child in the line.  Somewhere in that crowd, I will sit there with a smile of pride, and try to just stay in the moment.  I’ll try to put aside nostalgia. I probably won’t be successful. I feel a lump in my throat just thinking about it.  You see, it’s crazy looking back on it – but that night I had no way of knowing that almost exactly 20 years later, I will look out across a new graduating class while my son moves his tassel, throws his cap, and begins……begins a new story. Because truly that really was just the beginning.

Here’s to 1997 Kim – girl you had no way of knowing, but by the 20th anniversary of your graduation, you will have raised a man.  Holy guacamole – what an amazing 20 years it has been.  And it only gets better. This is a beautiful life.