Psalm 33 & Shepherd Thoughts

"By the Word of the Lord the heavens were made, and all their hosts by the breath of His mouth" psalm 33:6

This verse makes me think of  being little in Illinois in the mornings of winter, pressing my face against a cold pane of glass, watching in delight as my breath forms a cloudy ring. Cade's to that age (and height) now, where he can pull up and press his chubby little lips against anything and everything. I think we left a few ring marks on at least two of the houses where we stayed in Texas this past week, complete with what I am sure is now his dried snot and saliva. Gross. But endearingly gross.

And what if this verse shows us that God has, like my favorite portion of Orthodoxy suggests, the tendency to be like a child, and way back in the beginning He pressed His mouth against the dark, cold pane of emptiness and breathed. And the remnants of His breath are our starry host, the entire universe, the galaxies, the potential other universes. He has really good breath. Really beautiful breath. And that same breath was what breathed into the dry, crumbling dust of the earth and caused the crown of creation to be brought to life. Us. We are the remnants of His breath too. In Proverbs 8 when it talks about creation, it says wisdom (Jesus) was "rejoicing in His inhabitable world, delighting in the human race." He loves us and likes us too.

This has probably been the worst week of my parenting life. I've been a complete mess, and so have my kids. Explosive diarrhea, running out of clothes in an airport, throw up in the pack and play kind of mess. My patience has been totally zapped. And at the end of the day, I just want to cry and tell the Lord that I don't deserve to be a mom. But I keep feeling, even at the end of these kind of days, this undeserved blanket of affection settling over me. Do you ever go through seasons like this? Like all I want is to hear Him say, "Yep, you've screwed up. I'm about to pull the rug out from under you like you deserve you worthless little..." but He never once has said that. Or made me feel that. In fact, the past few weeks its been too much. Too good. Everytime I got to have a quiet time, its like He's bending over my heart, just patiently rearranging all the mess I've made and its so sweet I just want to cry.

I've been reading Hinds Feet on High Places the past month or so, and if you haven't read it and you don't feel loved by God and you feel afraid of where He might take you in the name of love, READ IT. It has rocked me, and I've seen God as the Good Shepherd that He is. Today is October 23rd, which means that I ought to be reading Psalm 23 in my quiet time, but the Bible was left open to Psalm 33, which is how I landed on the aforementioned verse. But I know what Psalm 23 is about. Everybody does. The Lord is my shepherd.

Isn't it interesting that David, presumably hundreds of years before Jesus ever was incarnate, got a revelation about the heart of God that Jesus would later come and totally verify? Jesus proclaims in John 10 that He is the Good Shepherd. David says the Lord is His shepherd centuries before. David got revelation about God's character because he spent time searching it out. Or maybe it was less searching, and more seeing. Earlier in Psalm 33 it says, "The earth is full of the loving-kindness of the Lord."

I was laying in a hammock in a backyard in Waco on Sunday, while Chad went to get us food and my two sick babies were asleep, and I was so hunkered down in my own frustration that I almost didn't see it. Right above my head, in my line of vision, were these gorgeous glossy leaves arching over me in inquiry, their gnarled branches proudly boasting they'd seen many days rooted in that Texas soil, and bright yellow butterflies floating and hovering in their midst, and four birds singing and in tandem diving and dancing in the sunlight, all against a piercingly blue morning sky where little puffs of clouds hung contentedly over me. And it was then I thought, this beauty is for us. A love-song sung over us every day. "The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save. He will exult over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will exult over you with loud singing." (zeph 3:17)

"All His work is done in faithfulness" Psalm 33:4 tells me. But I don't really need it to tell me that. I see it everyday. His faithfulness to me. To let me start again. To refill my love-cup when its on empty. To quiet me when I'm rushing, to refresh me better than any down time can.

Mom told me when I was little some of the profound things about God calling Himself a Shepherd, but I will never get over the idea that when a sheep wanders off, the Shepherd has to discipline her by breaking her legs, and then He carries her around His neck while she heals, so she learns to love His presence, and never wanders off again. This week, in my failure, I have also felt more near the Lord than ever. Maybe something about seeing the sad image of what I can be when I'm tired, disgruntled, and annoyed makes me realize my need for God's help even more. I fell asleep last night thinking about how I wished I could be a sheep around His neck. I started to wonder what that would be like. What would He smell like? As a Good Shepherd, whose out in the field, working, tending, care-taking, providing? Would His hands feel calloused where he holds me? Would I feel the rumble of His voice in His chest? Would I sense His heartbeat? I don't know. But I know that's how near He holds us. And I don't want to miss out on breathing deeply of Him today.

The Wisdom in Weeds

Yesterday Eden and I went outside, where I shivered in the Indiana September morning cool, and picked weeds. It kind of turned into me picking weeds, and Eden talking about how much Daddy loved her, how God made the sky, wasn't it a beautiful day Mommy?, and picking up "baby" leaves and cooing, "oh, how sweet". Truth. So I was the one picking weeds. It was one of those times that the parallels from nature to real life were so easily drawn that it was kind of cliche. I ended the time with a sore lower back, a huge trashbag full of nasty weeds, and a renewed outlook on life. Seriously.

It's crazy how full earth is of natural things that play out spiritual principles. I was wondering the other day over how poetic Jesus must have been, using all those parables to encompass massive truths that basically overturned social, cultural, and spiritual misconceptions. Maybe the disciples just wanted Him to be literal sometimes. But I think He is so in love with the good work He made He felt like it would be wasteful to not incorporate it. He did it all on purpose, you know. It was His idea to make things that ingeniously have multiple layers to it. Sometimes when I read Tolkien or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle or C. S. Lewis I start to think, if these men were so smart...and could create such depth in their imaginations, how smart is God? How much are we missing out on just becuase we don't take the time to explore all the millions of Truths He has put into our every day life that are exclaiming, "HE IS!" Like Romans 1:20 says, "For since the creation of the world, His eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."

I could make a list of excuses why our flower beds have been neglected this summer. Something that involves trips to Texas, my son having surgery, his 21 days of recovery where he wore arm braces and basically I was pregnant again except this time the 20 plus pounds weren't safely encased, immobile, and most importantly, soundless and opinionless. But now that its September, and our neighbor's house still hasn't sold, (could it be our lawn?) I decided it was time. Needless to say, I had a hard time even seeing our intentionally planted flowers and bushes from the weeds that had overtaken our soil. It made me frustrated at some points because a lot of our plants didn't even bloom this year, and I am blaming it on the massive weeds, that were readily going to seed and sending out deceptively pretty yellow and white flowers. We put money into our plants, not to mention a lot of time spacing them out, planting them, watering them, and then one three month period of neglect, and suddenly it was as if all that time had been wasted. The unintentional had overrun what we were intentional about. Proverbs 24:33 "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest, and poverty will come upon you like a bandit, need like an armed man."

See where I am going with this? You can't make this stuff up. It's like God is by nature such a TEACHER, and His desire is so great that we'd learn His truths, that He just can't help himself. Here, He says, I will put it everywhere. Anywhere. He doesn't stand far off, laughing at our ignorance. He is practically shoving it in our faces. Acts 17:27 "He did this so that they may seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward Him and find Him. Yet He is actually not far from each one of us." Or maybe this verse is better validation: Jeremiah 33:3 "Call to Me, and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things that you do not know." Or Colossians 1:9- "That you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding."

Lately I have felt the Lord really addressing bitterness in my heart. Which is weird, because I always flatter myself to think I'm not a bitter person. I can't think of things I haven't forgiven. But I have been realizing that bitterness isn't about a one time forgiveness, and for me, its deeper than the basic offense/hurt/forgiveness/freedom cycle. It happens on a moment by moment, thought by thought basis. Throughout my day I find myself wrestling with a lot of thoughts,  and the tone of them are often bitter. "I bet this person has never sacrificed like I do as a mom"...(vomit on myself for thinking that.) Or "If I had the kind of means this person has, I'd be happy and free too" equally as disgusting. Or "I could really give them a lesson on [whatever thing I think I've really mastered in my life, which clearly by this thought alone shows I haven't mastered love, which binds all things together in unity according to Colossians 3:14]." Do y'all see what I'm talking about? Bitterness, for me, isn't just limited to the normal scope. It's pervasive, and deceptive, and it wears a lot of different identities."Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God. Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many." Hebrews 12:15

I so often wish that sin would wear one of those flashing lights, like "Hey, I'm sin, I'm here to destroy your life, your marriage, your kids' lives, your relationships, and your faith." How much hurt would I avoid if I knew sin at the moment it stepped into my life. But most often, it's disguised, and it comes in with my intention or desire. It's the unintentional, habitual thoughts that can take down years of victory in a certain area of my life. Like those weeds, it's not that I planted them. Chad didn't plant them. They came of their own accord, blown into our yard maybe by the dust in the air from our neighbors, or originating by their own spontaneous accord. Either way, they exist. And they rob the plants I intentionally put in our yard of their nutrients', and they are a pain to take out. In fact, some of the ones I wrestled with most had little younger counterparts that were so much easier to yank out and I kept berating myself for not getting out in the yard sooner. Had I, the work would have been twice as fast.

Yesterday I was reminded to be careful, to be on my guard against bitterness, in all of its forms, to get it at its root, to keep it from growing and multiplying, and to stop it from robbing the nutrients from the intentional fruits of the Spirit that the Holy Spirit has painstakingly been tending to in my heart. It's easy to be overrun by sin. God is the ultimate worker in our hearts, though, supplying us sun and and soil and rain and nutrients, our job is just to make sure that we listen to Him and get at those weeds quickly.

Growing Down

I started this blog post around Easter time, and am just now finishing it. I don't know what that says about my pace of life. Sometimes I think I'm busy, but then I realize I stay at home, and just orchestrate naps and eating times and bath times and bed times. It's not that busy. But let's be honest, my ability to multi-task is waning. So I finished it, a few months later, but at least it's finished.

I think Easter is my favorite holiday. Especially since moving north, its definitely the one that brings the most hope. I've been trying to explain it to Eden, and I just keep telling her it means we get to go to Heaven. But it's more than just that. Easter means we get to operate as if we already are in Heaven while we are still on earth. "If any man is in Christ his a NEW creation. Old things have passed away, behold, all things have become new!" 2 Corinthians 5:17

I wish I could live with that Easter-reality every day. Every morning is new, every day I wake up and get to behold the newness of life. I get to start over again, again.

I feel like in some ways I've really embraced getting older. But in some ways, I'm still trying to hold some things at arms' length. I still forget that I'm 25, and a mother of two. And to a lot of people, I'm old. I was on a run Saturday, pushing/heaving/wrestling our double jogger up a hill when I saw a very familiar neighborhood interaction between two girls and a guy...which culminated in a lot of sideways glances and no words exchanged. (I was going slow enough I got to really watch the entire thing) And I was struck at how long ago all of that feels. Not that I miss it. But its amazing how resolved those issues are now, when I used to so struggle with them: am I beautiful? Will someone notice me? Will someone love me?

Maybe the largest evidence of my age is the fact that Chad and I were ecstatic after we bought a Honda Odyssey a few weeks ago. We gush over its space, its recliner-like seats, its navigation/bluetooth/back-up camera, and its sliding doors...because its a van. A VAN. And I'm excited about it. Ever since we put our car up for sale, we've been back and forth trying to decide which car will suit our needs. A few months ago, I swore I'd never get a van. I was set on anything BUT a van. But then as Chad and I were discussing our options and we both came to this conclusion: the only reason I was avoiding vans was for image. And what's interesting is, I no longer/maybe never even fit the image I think I am trying to protect. In fact, the sobering thing is that no one we know would even be surprised that we would be driving a van. It's kind of a running joke in our house how trendy we aren't. So it's not like I need to maintain my coolness. I walked out of the bedroom the other day ready to go shopping only to realize I had Cade's spit up down my shirt. Can't get more classy than that. The more I try to avoid looking like a mom, the more I realize its what I am. It's my season right now. But before I go making our identity about how un-trendy we are, let me just say the point is that the Lord has really used this whole van-situation to highlight my own ideas of my identity. 

Its funny how quickly we like to categorize each other. I moved a few times growing up, and I can remember I used to sort people into groups...and ironically, every new place had similar "types" of the people I left behind. The funny ones, the serious ones, the athletic ones, the flirtatious ones, the melancholy ones...etc. But sometimes this grouping can become really crippling. Even in marriage, I've put Chad in the even-keeled category. He doesn't fluctuate in emotions very much, and he is basically the same person in front of every person he knows. Which is wonderful...but that category I've put him in doesn't lend itself to alot of leg room. I can remember the first year of Eden's life Chad would suddenly start getting a little teary-eyed when she would hug him, or when we would watch videos of her, and I'd be kind of frustrated...like, dude there is only room for one emotional person in our relationship. But I am learning to stretch his box. To not keep him so confined. It's okay for him to be multifaceted and for him sometimes to not act exactly in accordance with his category.

Its interesting how what we think of ourselves dramatically affects how we interact with each other, but chiefly, how we interact with God. A few years ago I was giving Josh, my younger brother, a free lecture on life and he dismissed me by saying, "Charis, you've always been the deep thinker in our family." Which probably launched a debate between Lindsay and Josh and I about who really is the deep thinker...and I can resolve the argument only by saying that each of us thinks deeper about different things. But regardless, it was the identity Josh had given me, whereby he got to dismiss any truth I might say because it wasn't HIS identity to think the same way. Don't we do this all the time? And don't we do it to ourselves? We let our decisions define us. We let our occupation define us. And in my case, recently, I let the car I drive define me. But I want to slap a bumper sticker on the back that says, "I am not JUST a van-driving mom".

What I believe about myself determines how far I will go, how deeply I will press in, how much hope I will have. Just like that verse in Proverbs 23:7 says, "For as he thinks within himself, so is he." I've realized during exercise how necessary it is for me to talk to myself about my ability. If I get to a hard part in a run or half way through a set of burpies and I start to say, "Charis, you just had a baby. You aren't in good shape right now..." I will give up. But if I get to the point where I want to stop and I say, "You can run for three more minutes"...or "You can do this last rep"...I can perform.

I love having Eden interact and talk, and its so great to train her to love God from a young age. Not in a forced way, but talking about Him to her, about what He created outside, what He does for us, how much He loves us. Recently she got up from a nap and told me she went to Heaven and saw Jesus. Who knows if that actually happened. But why not? The great part about being two and a half is that Eden doesn't have an identity of herself that gets in the way of her willingness to believe. She doesn't sit around lamenting all her sins, and worry she isn't worthy of going to Heaven. So she goes to Heaven at nap time, or dreams about it, and doesn't have a complex about it. She's not acting prideful, and she isn't living in fear of condemnation. She just takes Jesus at the words we tell her about Him. Obviously, she doesn't get every part of it. She probably repeats what we say a lot, but sometimes its just amazing how out of the blue she'll look at me and tell me, "Jesus loves me so much." And I'll tell her, "Baby girl, if you can believe that truth now, you're set for life."

There is something about growing up that hardens our willingness to believe. I know it happens for some people earlier than others. We get jaded by failure on the part of others, on our own part, and what we perceive to be on God's part. So we lose our hope.

I was doing homework for the James study I am in this morning, and one of the questions was about what things die when we give in to sin. I started to think about the times in my life where I've wrestled with habitual sin, and even right now, my inability to stay patient and live without anxiety. And I realized that when I give in to sin it kills off my ability to dream. My horizon gets clouded, and I start to think thoughts that isolate me from the nearness of God. Thoughts like: "I am just a failure. I won't ever produce the kind of fruit God wants, so He won't ever be pleased with me. And if that's the case, I'd better just throw in the towel." I've dealt with guilt and shame just like everyone else has in their lives, and its exhausting.

As we get older and get to see our own failure, we start to 'fret against God'. Proverbs 19:3 says, "The foolishness of man twists his way and in his heart he frets against God."

I have seen some amazing people emerge from addictions and abuse, and turn to follow God, but in a few steps they take a stumble, and rather than reach up and grab God's hand, they just close down their hope. They draw the curtain on their hope and they decide they're going to stay down. Sometimes we let sin become our identity. Or we think thoughts like, "I've never really been the spiritual one, not like [so and so]. So I might as well keep doing it on my own." It's that trapping identity that can often bring such paralysis.

There is a decorative block above our guest bathroom toilet that reads: "Live as if you'll die tomorrow; learn as if you'll live forever." Not sure that anyone ever gets a chance to read it, but I love it. Because the reality is, we will live forever. Somewhere. And I want to keep growing the older I get. A pastor I love says that we don't grow up in Christ, we grow down. The end goal is to be like little children who inherit the Kingdom because they don't think they have all the answers. Eden's new favorite question is why. We ask it about everything. Why do I wear lipstick, why did Poppy paint his hydrangeas blue, etc. She knows she doesn't know. She knows she wants to know. She knows to ask. And we all need that grace, to ask and grow and admit we don't have all the answers, and what is more, we don't really know who we are without the illuminating grace of God in our lives. I don't want to get old and excuse any discipline or change or diligence by saying that I'm just made "this" way...I want to get old and every day be transformed "into that same image, from glory to glory." 2 Corinthians 3:18.

And if I've placed you in a box, I'm sorry. I don't want to box you in, and I don't want you to box me in. Among all the creatures on earth, we are the only ones who have the capacity to be transformed from the inside out. To die differently than we were  born. In essence, the only ones to be redeemed.
 

When God Turns the Light Off

Eden's just now two and a half, and within the past two months, her ability to communicate has exponentially increased. She's like a walking chatterbox, and even right now, she's standing on her princess potty (because why go potty in it when it makes such a perfect stepping stool that you can stand on and see yourself in the mirror?) and telling her own reflection all about going to the doctor to check her heartbeat.

After years of wishing I could hear her thoughts, I am suddenly aware that the majority of my day is responding to them. It's kind of amazing. What's also amazing is how adamantly she can want certain things. Her vocab is a work in progress though. She still gets certain words wrong, but because I'm around her all the time, I interpret her without even having to think about it. Like when we're playing upstairs and she decides she's had enough of the princess tent and wants to go back downstairs where her princess trike is waiting, she tells me she wants to go play upstairs. And I get it. So we go downstairs. Even though every time she calls the downstairs upstairs I correct her, it still hasn't clicked. Down is up. And on is off. It's giving me a headache to even think about. She usually tells me not to turn the TV on, when she means she wants me to not turn it off. This is getting confusing. My mom was here before Cade was born, and she taught Eden that my name is Charis Rebekah. But Eden can't handle it. If I try and tell her that my name is Charis Rebekah, she gets really upset and says, "No, you Mommy." Which is true. But I'm also Charis Rebekah. But its kind of useless to argue the point. I don't know why Chad gets to by Daddy Chad without any argument. For some reason the idea that I might be someone else is particularly upsetting.

Last night we were driving home from dinner and Eden said, "Hey, somebody turned the lights on! [meaning someone turned the lights off] God, turn the lights on." This has been going on for a few weeks now. Eden isn't a fan of the dark. When we go into a restaurant while it's still light out, but walk out when it's dark, she's confused. And she frequently likes to ask God to turn the lights back on. But I've been trying to explain that it's good that the lights are off, that we get night time because it means it's time for bed and we get to rest so we can play more tomorrow. But again, that kind of logic doesn't really appeal to her. She'd rather do without the night. What's funny is that I agree with her. Ever since I was little, I've hated the dark. My main struggle with winter isn't the cold, or the snow, or the ice as much as it is the dark, seemingly ever-shortened days.

I was thinking about it last night, how Eden hates the dark, but how God created it. It's His idea. And it's for our good. I tried to google why night is necessary, and there were a bunch of reasons, but mainly its proof that the earth is going around the sun, and that way the entire earth gets warmed. If the earth stayed still, and we got sunlight on only spot, the rest of the earth would be uninhabitable and cold. And I hate the cold. And I hate being cramped, so if I got sun all the time and everyone on earth had to cram into the state lines, it would be uncomfortable. So I'm glad for night. God knows best.

I am an awful lot like Eden though, with Jesus. I frequently ask for things that I don't really mean. I learned this lesson with special significance eight weeks ago. I was 40 weeks pregnant, completely full term and in comparison with Eden, I was past full-term. And I told God I was ready to have Cade. I was finished being pregnant. We were scheduled for an induction on December 18th, my due date. Chad and I went to the doctor the night before where we discussed the process of induction, and when I got home, I began to realize I still didn't have total peace about it. But I told myself that it made perfect sense for me to force Cade out. Tons of women do it, without any harm to mother or baby, and besides, my mom had already been in town for a week, my dad and brother were coming for Christmas day and I definitely thought I needed to have a one week old before they arrived so I could avoid the first week craziness...and physically, I was just sick of being pregnant. As I was preparing dinner that night, I started to think back to the week before, when in a quiet time I had read Psalm 37: 7 and this verse stuck out to me, "Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him."

The last thing I felt that week of pregnancy was patience. It didn't help that about four times a day I got a text asking if Cade had arrived...trust me people, if he had arrived, you would know. But I knew God gave me that verse. So I was reflecting on that verse and what it meant for me that night before our scheduled induction, and Chad walked into the kitchen and announced that he didn't feel peace about going to get induced the next day. It was like someone had popped the already wilting balloon of confidence in my mind. "Me neither," I admitted to him dejectedly.

So we texted my doc, and let her know we wouldn't be going through with the induction. And the next morning, despite my wishes otherwise, Mom and Eden and I went up to the hospital for a routine ultrasound that would check to make sure everything was okay with this full-term baby who was taking his sweet time getting announced to the world. And the ultrasound tech spotted for the first time Cade's cleft lip. She wasn't sure if it was in conjunction with his palette, and she wasn't sure the severity of it. She didn't know if he would be able to nurse, and she basically couldn't give me any guarantees that he wouldn't need to be in the NICU in order to thrive.

The first thing I felt when she told me was relief...she had become so suddenly serious that I thought something really terrible had happened. A cleft is a great problem to have. As much as I'd rather not see my son go through surgery in his first year of life, this is a great surgery to have to face. And once I got with Chad, we both realized how gracious God had been.

It wouldn't have been the end of the world to be induced that day without knowing about Cade's lip, but it would have been far more difficult. The delivery would have been a little traumatic, going in with the assumption that everything is perfect with your baby, and hearing that something wasn't right. It might have been difficult to process.

I realized that what I had prayed wasn't really what I meant. I asked God for Cade to be born early, or on his due date. I thought I was ready. But God knew my heart, that I desired to be ready for Cade. That I wanted to be prepared for his birth. In Romans 8:26, it says that the Spirit Himself intercedes for us, and later in verse 34 it says that Christ Jesus intercedes on our behalf. And in 1 John 2:1 it says that we have an advocate/intercessor with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. In a lot of ways, its like Jesus interprets my meaning. He knows my heart better than I do what I really mean, and more importantly, what I really need. And so I got the answer to my prayer, Cade arrived when I was ready. A week and a day later, after refusing to research any sort of clefts online, and recruiting a lot of my friends to pray with us that Cade would be healed, that he would be able to nurse, and that he would only have a cleft lip and not a cleft palette, Cade was born with every doctor and nurse who saw him declaring that his cleft was one of the most minor cases they had ever seen. And the child eats just fine. He gained four pounds in four weeks, and from the ever-increasing double chin, I'd say he is probably still gaining. ;-)

Sometimes God turns the lights off, and a lot of times, its in a far more difficult way than the one week I faced where I was asking God to heal my son, and trying to realize that either way, God was good. But during that time where the lights were off, and my heart was trying to pray and understand and have faith and not be afraid of what could be, God was also storing up light in my heart. There is a verse in Psalm 97:11 that says, "Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart." Even in your dark time, somewhere in heaven, God is preparing a store of light for you, and a vat of gladness with your name on it. It might not come as quickly as mine did, with a peaceful delivery of a perfectly healthy little boy whose little cleft makes him look like an adorable cartoon lion. And I don't know how many nights we might be assigned throughout our life, but I know that God is trustworthy. And that He is faithful to His word, and if He says He stores up gladness and light, we can rest our weary souls on that eternal truth.

And just like I know what Eden really means when she tells me she wants me to not turn the TV on so she can continue to watch her Angelina Ballerina, Jesus can interpret our imperfect prayers, and all the while fulfill the desire of our hearts. Because He knows the best way to get us to the point of fulfillment, and that like the Psalmist says, "all of our fountains are in Him".

Advent

I feel in writing today its sort of like I'm calling a friend I was supposed to have called a few months ago and totally forgot about...and now its kind of awkward and there are somethings to be explained.

Like how I was planning on writing daily for the 30 days of May. and I did. Twice.  It's so typical me. Big ideas, poor execution.

I like to think maybe my excuse is a little bit valid. I started that blog in the throws of the first trimester of pregnancy. And unlike my rather uneventful pregnancy with Eden, this baby has made his presence known and felt in every month. The first few months, I dreamt about what it felt like before nausea became a constant companion. Thus, an unsuccessful attempt to blog every day in the month of May.

But now it's December and May was almost eight months ago. And this baby is allowed to be born any day now. In fact, if he were like Eden, he'd be making his debut tomorrow. At four. Oh how I wish he would.

And during these past eight months, my mind and heart have been in a different season than ever before. I could list the various circumstances that caused it, but truly I feel like I'm just now surfacing from months of searching. Not searching in the sense of wandering away from Truth, but finding out that the Truth looks and acts and moves without consulting me. It's like that verse in Psalm 115 that says, "Our God is in Heaven and He does whatever He pleases."

Over the past 3 years of marriage, I feel almost like all I've been learning is the goodness, the kindness, the enduring love and faithfulness of God. How faithful He is to all of His promises, and about what those promises are-- I have been learning so much about how to hang my hat on the character of God as revealed through His word. And I think part of me began to think that if I continue to love Jesus, my life will look and feel the way I perceive safety, protection and hope. The kind of thoughts that Job's counselors and friends had, that if bad is happening in your life, it's basically your sin, or your fault. In my search for the truth about God and His character, I began to think I understood Him perfectly. And, like the countless before me, I have learned these past few months that God will not be summed up. He will not be forced into the confines of my understanding. Bill Johnson says it this way, "You get the peace that passes understanding when you give up your right to understand." But who among us is brave enough to follow what we cannot understand?

Trying to reconcile the tragedy, brevity, reality of this world with the image of God as a loving, faithful Father isn't always easy. In fact, I'm learning its rarely easy. And over the past months, despite how safe my life has been from dark and depressing things, I've watched people I love and care about exposed to various caustic and hostile elements of life. And it left me reeling.

Where is God when a four-year-old is fighting stage four cancer despite the millions of passionate, faithful people praying on her behalf? Where is God when a perfectly healthy, godly couple loses a baby? Where is God when a man is wrongly accused, and still pays the punishment for something he didn't do? Where is God when a woman who lives her life solely to please Him is plunged into the depths of tragedy in losing a father, a friend, a love, and in them the substance of her dreams?

I was sleepless one night after hearing a few of these real life stories from people I love, and I could feel my heart putting up fortresses. When you start realizing how little control you have over your own life, your own health, not to mention the lives and health of friends and family, it is so terrifying. What is more terrifying is that I never will be in control. I felt like for a few months I was holding God at a distance, afraid that if I left Eden, Chad, my family, my life, in His court, they'd be tossed to the four corners of creation and I'd be left alone. And for some reason I thought if I cocooned them in my heart, they'd be safe.

I've seen friends' faith shipwrecked by tragedy. By unexplainable, unreasonable sadness and injustice that exists in the world because the enemy of our souls exists. They lose heart, they think that a good God would not allow evil. And so they walk away from Him. During these months of wrestling over these issues, I know I cannot abandon faith. I know that's not the answer, because most of those friends' lives are even more miserable now than ever. I know God exists, I know He is good because His word says He is good, but there is a gap between my knowledge of God and my knowledge of the world. During that night, I felt the Lord wake up my heart to this:

"Charis, you are spending your energy trying to understand who I am. But you're gathering all the evidence from outside circumstances, trying to fit together an image that isn't a just representation. I never intended for you to discover my character based on what's going on in the world around you, but to have FAITH in my character despite what it is going on around you. I have given you the Word to describe and explain me."

 It reminds me of that verse in Proverbs 25 that says, "It is the privilege of God to conceal a matter, and the privilege of kings to search it out." And Jesus, according to Hebrews 1, "is the sole expression of the glory of God [the Light-being, the out-raying or radiance of the divine], and He is the perfect imprint and very image of [God’s] nature." So we get a bearing on the character of God not just throughout Scripture in His promises, but in the very life of Jesus. And when Jesus encountered human tragedy, loss, death, and decay, He didn't respond as a stoic, He didn't respond as uncaring, He didn't respond as if it's what we deserved. He wept.

Why did Jesus weep when He saw Lazarus' tomb? He knew He was able and was going to raise his friend back up from the dead. I don't think anything Jesus did was haphazard; He says it Himself in John 5:19, "Jesus gave them this answer: "I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does." So why is Jesus, who can literally ONLY do what He sees God doing, crying at a funeral of a man He will raise from the dead in just a few seconds? I think the answer is that it's His nature to have a broken heart over the brokenness in our world.

Life isn't predictable. Even when we know God, some might say especially when we know God. We can't formulate how healing works, how to avoid death, how to avoid sorrow, how to avoid loss. We can bank on the fact that despite anything, despite the fact that Jesus guarantees in John 16 that in this world we will have trouble, we can take heart. He has overcome the world. And at the end of every one of my fears, even if all of them were to come to life today and be lived out on the giant screen of my heart, I have a home in the heart of God. And He is an ever present help in times of trouble, His grace is sufficient for me, and when I awake, I will be satisfied for I will see His likeness. The truth is, there isn't any other option but to trust God. David is so wise, in Psalm 34 to say, "I sought the Lord and He delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to Him will be radiant, no shadow of shame will darken their faces."

Graham Cooke says, "Sometimes the grace of God allows you to enjoy what is happening, and at other times, the grace of God allows you to endure what is happening."

I was talking with one of my friends who is in the midst of a "perfect storm" of events in her life, who has suffered so much in the past few months and I was stunned at her words. "I wish I could go back and tell myself not to be so afraid," she confided to me. "I have spent years being so afraid of these things happening. But its nothing like I thought....I still cry, I feel loss, but I have never felt more enveloped in the tangible presence of God as I have lately. For every realized moment of sorrow, He has been nearer and better than I could have ever imagined." Standing on the outside of her grief, her personal loss, her heart ache, I can't fully appreciate her pain. But I can be convinced that God is being faithful, right now, to her. And He will be for each of us, in whatever season we are in. God cannot deny Himself, and He calls Himself our comfort, our helper, our strong tower.

psalm 57:1 "in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge, till the storms of destruction pass by."

Just like cold is the absence of warmth, and darkness is the absence of light, death and decay is the absence of God. From the moment Adam and Eve sinned, death and destruction entered into the world. But also from that moment, we see God already had a plan in place for mankind to be reconciled-- put in right standing again with Him. Even in the midst of the first of millions of acts of rebellion on the part of our hearts towards God, God orchestrates a way for us to get back into a right relationship with Him. He refused to let us live without hope, even for a moment. And its so appropriate that this season is the advent season-- the expectation and celebration of the birth of the One who is reconciling the world to God, and the one who is our Hope.

It's been really amazing to be pregnant this month and realize that (even if our calenders are wrong) Mary was pretty much just as pregnant as I am. And she was carrying that Hope, the Messiah, the anticipated One, in her womb. If only we could understand fully the gift of Jesus, the promise of His hope, the way He loves us so perfectly. We wouldn't be afraid. 

I love how John 1 explains Jesus:

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it."

I think its interesting that the word for comprehend in the Greek is katalambano, which means to lay hold of (in the mind as well, which is where we get the translated word comprehend)...because even now, in the darkness of the world, it can be hard to understand the Light. But I refuse to let go of Jesus just because I cannot explain or understand perfectly the what and how about the pain the present moment. I do not want to keep in the dark, when there has been an invitation to walk in the Light. I will lay hold of Him, because He has already fastened an iron grip on me, and nothing can take me out of His hand.

The people who walked in darkness
have seen a great light;
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
on them has light shone.
³ You have multiplied the nation;
you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
as with joy at the harvest,
as they are glad when they divide the spoil.
⁴ For the yoke of his burden,
and the staff for his shoulder,
the rod of his oppressor,
you have broken as on the day of Midian.
⁵ For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
and every garment rolled in blood
will be burned as fuel for the fire.
⁶ For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon^[d] his shoulder,
and his name shall be called^[e]
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
⁷ Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

Becoming Aware

Some days I go to spend time with God and I think I am doing it more for His sake than for mine. I have this idea that God will be more gracious to me, more kind to me, more satiated if I just give Him my attention. It's usually on those days that I end up realizing that He never needs me. He doesn't need my flattery, my flighty attentions, my patronizing. And during those times I never walk away without the realization of how desperately, painfully, and deeply I need Him. You see, I was made to spend time with God. Each of us were. It doesn't look the same on any of us, but we were made for encounter with Jesus. From the very first man ever created to the very last man who will be born, we were made in the image of God with the purpose of walking with God in that perfect, unspoiled intimacy that Adam enjoyed with the Lord in the cool of the day.

Today I purposed to come up to our computer room and stay here with the Lord until I got some things settled in my heart. I've been wrestling over an issue in my mind, and I keep having all of these thoughts that are related to it that I know I can't carry any more. I was telling Chad the other day about how often I own thoughts in my head that I shouldn't be owning. I've heard so many times about how you can't help what you think, but you can always help what you do with the thoughts that land in your mind.

For example, one of my pet peeves is when people (and the Lord knows I do this a ton) use this sort of excuse for a sin pattern: "I'm just wired this way...I just am a depressed person...I just am more sensitive than most people...I just get worn out easier..." etc. Do I think we need to know our own personal limitations and have a keen awareness of what makes us fall apart? Of course. We need to own up to our faults, our failures, our unique temperaments so that we can work on what stinks...and then we need to do the hard work of asking the Lord to uproot the crud and leave the good. We need to be willing to put ourselves in the position of saying, "I'm not right. I'm in process. I'm not perfect yet. But I'm not willing to sit around and do nothing about this glaring issue in my life." I've never told someone that they have a booger in their nose and they regretfully respond, "Well I'm just a snotty person." People want to take care of their boogers. And junk in their teeth. Why aren't we just as eager to take care of the flaws in our inner person?

But back to my owning thoughts that aren't mine to own...So often the enemy-- who is called the father of LIES-- spits a lie at my feet, still steaming from its time macerating in his nasty belly, and I purposefully pick up the lie and think, "I must have dropped this." And soon I'm walking around holding this nasty lie and thinking it came off my person. But it didn't. It's not mine because I'm not the daughter of a liar. I'm the daughter of THE TRUTH.

You know, holding a lie is kind of like picking up a wasps' nest. It's a bad idea on multiple levels. First, it's a nest, full of furious wasps, and I'm carrying it like a baby. No matter how gentle I am with it, it's going to erupt all over me. And one lie, just like one nest, carries a billion potential injurers. A lie doesn't stay contained. It stings me all over. And if I don't get rid of that thing and RUN the opposite direction, I could end up a swollen, puffy, poisoned, potentially hospitalized mess of flesh for a while.

So anyway, I came up to this room today thinking I wasn't going to leave until I could walk of the room without the lie attached. I don't want it. I'm leaving it here. Usually I assume that when I'm believing a lie, or thinking about a lie, God is super far away from me. And I opened to Psalm 139. So I read it. And I was struck again at the nearness of God. Even when I'm believing/thinking/acting on a lie. He's close.

I've been wondering lately what the secret to intimacy with God is. Is it more discipline? More hunger? More trials? But in Psalm 139 I think I found the answer: AWARENESS. Awareness of God's presence, and the LOVE that emanates from Him to me.

I started writing out all of the verses from the chapter that talked about God's proximity to us. It's pretty staggering:
"O Lord, you have searched me and known me"
"[You] are intimately acquainted with all my ways"
"You have laid Your hand upon me"
"even there, Your hand will lead me, and Your right hand will lay hold of me..."
"for You formed my inward parts, You woven me together in my mother's womb"
"I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made"
"and in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them."
"how precious are Your thoughts toward me O God! How vast is the sum of them, were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand"
"when I am awake, I am still with You"

It's hard to not want to be with someone who really wants to be with you. Someone who really just loves and adores you. And when I became aware today of God's nearness, despite my struggling mind, I suddenly felt peace. It doesn't matter to Him that I have this glaring issue, because He's the only one who can fix it anyhow. And He still wants to be with me. So the lie loses its hold.

That's the thing about walking WITH God. If I were walking with Kate Middleton (oh a girl can dream), I would walk differently than if I were walking by myself. I wouldn't look bored or insecure, I'd feel honored by her presence. That's just a girl. If I'm walking with God, and I have an awareness of Him, I'm not going to pick up the lie Satan throws. Because I won't think it's mine. It won't look or smell or seem like anything that should belong in the company of someone who walks besides a good, loving God.

The secret to living free from sin is living with Jesus. And Jesus isn't like a task master holding a bunch of rules over my head. He loves us. He loves me. I love this quote from Brennan Manning, and it came into my mind today while I was thinking about all of this, and trying to believe the verses in Psalm 139 applied to me, and that God really wants to be with me, and is truly acquainted with all of my ways:

"In the 48 years since I was first ambushed by Jesus in a little chapel in the mountains  of upper Pennsylvania, and in literally the thousands of hours of prayer and meditation, silence and solitude over those years I am now utterly convinced that on judgement day the Lord Jesus will ask each of us one question and only one question:

'Did you believe that I loved you?

That I desired you?

That I waited for you day after day?

That I longed to hear the sound of your voice?'

The real believers there will answer,'Yes Jesus, I believed in your love and I gladly shape my life in response to it. But many of us, who are so faithful in our ministry, our practice, our church going, are going to have to reply: "Well, frankly, no sir, I mean I never really believed it. I heard a lot of wonderful sermons and teachings about it. But I always thought that was a way of speaking. A kindly lie, some Christians' pious pattern.'

And there is the real difference between the real Christians, and the nominal ones.  

No one can measure like a believer the depths and intensity of God's love. And no one can measure like a believer the effectiveness of our gloom, pessimism, low self esteem, self hatred and despair that block God's way to us.

Do you see why it is so important to lay hold of this basic truth of our faith? Because you are only going to be as big as your own concept of God. Remember the line of the French philosopher Pascal, 'God made man in his own image, and man has returned the compliment.' 

We often make God in our own image: just as fussy, rude, judgemental, unloving and impatient as we are.  The God of so many Christians I meet is a god who is too small for me, because He is not the God of the Word, He is not the God revealed by Jesus Christ... who in this moment comes right to your seat and says,

'I have a word for you. I know your whole life story, I know every skeleton in your closet, I know every moment of sin, shame, degraded love that has darkened your past; right now I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, and your inconsistent discipleship..and my word to you is this, I dare you to trust that I love you just as you are."

When you're grumpy, unloving, bitter, angry, selfish, shamed by sin...you have just as much right to access God's presence as when you're feeling pious, successful at discipline, qualified for the Kingdom, decorated by good deeds and good thoughts.

I've always wondered why James 4:7 says to, "Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." Why is the enemy so eager to leave if all I've done is just stand up to him in my puny flesh? The answer lies in the very next verse. "Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." Satan flees when we resist, because resistance towards him means we are pushing towards God- and God's response time must be pretty quick. After watching the Olympic track events the other night, Chad and I practiced getting down in the blocks and bouncing up to run as quickly as we could. (Yes, that's what we do in our free time.)  But maybe the Lord is kind of like those Olympic runners, who are constantly working on coming out of the blocks as quickly as possible so they can get to their goal. When we resist a lie, and we resist the father of lies, it's like that gun going off at the starting line of an Olympic race, and God's coming.

May 2nd: A God Beyond Time

Psalm 2


1 Why do the nations conspire[a]

and the peoples plot in vain?

2 The kings of the earth rise up

and the rulers band together

against the Lord and against his anointed, saying,

3 “Let us break their chains

and throw off their shackles.”

4 The One enthroned in heaven laughs;

the Lord scoffs at them.

5 He rebukes them in his anger

and terrifies them in his wrath, saying,

6 “I have installed my king

on Zion, my holy mountain. ”



7 I will proclaim the Lord’s decree:



He said to me, “You are my son;

today I have become your father.

8 Ask me,

and I will make the nations your inheritance,

the ends of the earth your possession.

9 You will break them with a rod of iron[b];

you will dash them to pieces like pottery. ”



10 Therefore, you kings, be wise;

be warned, you rulers of the earth.

11 Serve the Lord with fear

and celebrate his rule with trembling.

12 Kiss his son, or he will be angry

and your way will lead to your destruction,

for his wrath can flare up in a moment.

Blessed are all who take refuge in him.




I never turn on the news. For good reason, I can't handle all the bad news. I feel like I take it with me, after the TV is off, and it just sits in my heart and starts festering all this worry. The other day it was the one year memorial to when Navy Seals killed Osama Bin Laden, and of course that was the one day that I happened to turn on the news and hear how now there are threats of new terrorist attacks and bombs in intestines. I spent the rest of the day trying not to think about it, and praying that whoever was flying today was safe. And naturally, I dreamt about it when I went to sleep that night and woke up in a fright. I love this Psalm because it shows me that God hears the ragings, the threats, the conflicts of the nations, and it doesn't cause Him alarm. He's not pulling His hair, trying to decide who to protect and who to forget. This Psalm says He laughs at them, and the final verse is that blessed are all who take refuge in Him.

I wonder if sometimes God isn't laughing at me either. Especially when lesser worries start strangling my mind and threatening to errupt all over. Fear of aging, recently, has really been getting me. I wonder if God chuckles at me, kind of like I have to laugh at Eden when she gets herself wrapped up in my earphone wires, and she's standing there screaming and so distressed. She doesn't realize that a couple of spins means she's free, and so she can't see the humor. Maybe God has a similar reaction when I fear things like age, which can only mean that I'm getting closer to going Home.

I have a terrible memory. Most of my life is fuzzy, with a few pictures here and there of pleasant times and places and people, but for the most part, I feel like I've lost half of my life and its wandering around somewhere in my brain waiting to be recovered. I have to call some of my friends to remember what I did in junior high, high school, and I am starting to realize college is slowly fading too. (With that said, I have been researching how to jumpstart your memory on the internet lately and may or may not be looking at a few books at the library later on the subject.) The point is, the few memories that do stand out are usually pretty monumental--- the day i single-handedly killed my sister's favorite pet birds, for example, is one I am not sure I will ever get rid of. But lately watching Eden has been jogging my memory, and bringing back pieces of my past that I'd thought were long gone.

Since about 13 months, Eden has started to mimick almost everything I do. I know I posted a picture of it on facebook the other day, but she's unalterably obsessed with lipstick. I didn't know she'd ever seen me put it on until I caught her one day with the tube, puckering up and smearing it all over herself. Chad and I recently had a big scare where we thought she'd eaten some terrible product, only to realize she had mistaken my concealer tube for the lipstick, and her mouth, chin, cheeks, were painted white. Moms who don't wear much makeup, and are naturally beautiful, probably don't deal with this. I have to go searching for my brush every stinking day because one of her new favorite tricks is hairstyling, and nearly every time I get ready I find her sitting near my drawers, wearing every single one of my clean underwear as a stack of necklaces. She walks around wearing every bag she can find on her shoulder as a purse, and naturally, she loves to pull out my leapord flats and attempt to strut her stuff in front of our tv. Which normally is featuring Sesame Street.

At first I thought it was so amazing that she picked up on so many of my habits, and that she instinctively was copying me instead of Chad. Then I progressed from feeling like it was funny to feeling slightly intimidated by it, realizing that if she watches me so closely, I'm going to have be more careful to live in a way that is worth her mirroring. And finally, I've reached a point of wishing I could sit down with her and tell her to not spend her childhood wishing she could be older. Now, I get that its totally normal and healthy and so good for her to show all of these signs of recognizing me and life and the fact that she wants to be a big girl already, and wants to do what Mommy does. But somewhere in my heart is this realization that I spent most of my life trying to get to the next phase.

Maybe it's because I had an older sister who was doing the "next" thing all the time that I wanted to be where she was. I always knew what the road ahead looked like, roughly, at least. I can remember being so sad when it was week days because it meant Lindsay was in school, and I'd be sitting on our steps waiting for her to get home from elementary so I wouldn't be lonely anymore. And watching her play sports in junior high and wishing I were old enough to be on a sports team, and watching her go to prom and be part of FCA in high school and wishing I could be part of that when I was in junior high, and then when I was finally in high school visiting her at Baylor and realizing high school had nothing on college. And then when I was in college she was married and I realized how great it seemed to have the huge question of life resolved, "who will I love?" Somehow, in a strange twist, I ended up have a baby first. But that's about the only thing I've ever done before she's done it.

The point is, I wish I could go back and tell myself to just calm down. Just enjoy being too little to go to school. Enjoy the chalk and the barbies and the glasses of whole milk--cuz the good Lord knows I don't get to drink that anymore. And enjoy junior high and the lack of freedom and the protective wing of my parents. Enjoy high school and the non-seriousness of life, the pulse of going from school event to school event and just learning as much as I can. To enjoy college, its apparent freedoms, its failures, its pretend grown-up life that really is nothing like a real grown-up life. Life's not worth rushing.

Side note: One of my biggest pet peeves is when people talk about a certain season of life (I'm guilty of this, I'm sure) like it was the pinnacle of their entire career as a human. Like people who graduate college but keep talking about their glory days, wishing they could be back inside of the dorm, or the frat house, or at the tailgate or the function or whatever it is. People who spend all of their time telling everyone else to enjoy college because they wish they could go back to it. Before Chad and I graduated, I told him I never wanted us to pine for college. It was great. It was a season of life that I so loved and appreciated and met so many AMAZING people in. But it's over now. And I still love those people and that place and the season. But we're all on to new things.

Lately that anticipation of the future has suddenly shifted to a desire to put on the brakes. To avoid birthdays. To stop the clock. I don't want to turn 25. I don't want to think about getting closer to 30. I have had this profound sympathy for Jack Sparrow looking for the fountain of youth. I understand. If he finds it, I want to know. And I don't like this new fear any better than I liked the old rushing around eagerness. I think both grieve God's heart.

I keep thinking of that verse in 2 Corinthians 3:18: " but we all with unveiled faces beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord are being transformed into that same image, from glory to glory." Aren't I supposed to be going from glory to glory? And Proverbs 31, talking about the virtuous woman, and how she laughs at the days to come; her description is missing any cues about botox, age-defying creams, etc.

I love that the Lord IS. He was, of this we have TONS of evidence. He will be, of this we have equally as convincing evidence. But the fact that He IS, is what affects me most today. When I was 12 wishing I could be 17 so I could sing that song with Tim McGraw, He was sitting next to me wishing I would look at Him and learn about who He made me to be in that very season. When I was 17 wondering how my heart would heal after losing someone I'd cared about and wondering if I'd ever find a man equal to the image in my mind, He was walking with me trying to teach me about the beauty of a heart 'stayed on Jehovah'. When I turned 21 and wanted so badly to rush the next 11 months so I could finally be Mrs. Chad Freije, He was urging me to draw even closer in the last few days and weeks I had as single woman. It makes me so sad to think of all the time I spent longing for the future, and it also sheds new light on the fact that it's so terrible to sit here and dread the process of getting older. It's inevitable. It's going to happen. And I'd rather do it gracefully and with peace than irritably and with anxiety. And the secret to the future is that God will be there too. He will still be faithful. And the point is, He is right here. I don't need to look out there because He is right with me in this present moment.

I have a yoga video where the instructor says at one point, "Your power is in this present moment." Now, alot of the stuff she says is kind of bizarre. But this one phrase caught my attention. I stopped down-ward facing dogging and sat up and looked at Mandy Ingber and said, "Good word." My grace, my hope, my joy, isn't somewhere lodged in the memories of Bluebird Lane or Sky Ranch or Baylor or Tyler, Texas...and it isn't in the years when I'm past the child-raising age and I get to rediscover my passions that exist besides being a parent...its right now. God's right here, right now, and this moment is the one of to sieze and live and squeeze all of the proverbial juice out of.