Good news on dreary Sunday

I wake up early this Easter morning to a dreary heaviness in the darkness. Rain splatters on my windshield and fog silhouettes the horizon as I drive to the sunrise service, where there honestly wouldn't be much of a sunrise. It doesn't feel like life has defeated death this morning.

It is almost like the dreariness is seeping out of my soul, casting a gloomy cloud on the morning. I am tired and grumpy - grumpy that it is so early, grumpy that I still haven't finalized Easter plans, and grumpy that I am spending so much time focusing on Easter plans and not able to connect to the weight and meaning of the day. I want to go home but I don't want to drive the 2 hours to Charlotte. I want so badly to see family and old friends, but I also want to celebrate Easter with my church community - and I know I can't do both.

How frustrating that a simple decision can consume my thoughts so! Jesus is risen! He is risen and here I am sitting in my car crying like a little girl because I can't make up my mind. Once again I feel the wave of transience fall on my shoulders, a feeling of impermanence so common to my existence these days. I can't help but reach out for a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, a sense of home - when my heart feels so incredibly divided!

And in the midst of all this noise in my head, the fear of disappointment, the desire to please and this insatiable need for home, I am quieted by the memory of a story. The story of a woman crying in the garden because she can't find the man, the savior, that she is looking for. She is in much greater turmoil than I and yet I can't help but empathize. And while she is crying her savior comes to her in all his resurrected glory and speaks tenderly to her, saying, "Dear woman, why are you crying?"

And then he says her name. I imagine it strong but soft. Firm in its reality and coated with everlasting love - and everything in her being wells up inside to the sweet sound of his voice speaking her name. I am there and I can feel it. Her pulse pounding, hope rising, heart screaming, "You! You are the one I have been looking for!"

I can hear him in my head saying my name like that. So tender, so strong and sweet saying, I'm right here sweetheart, I'm right in front of you. I am your home. I am your purpose, your essence, your life. I was away for a little while but with great compassion I have returned to you. This day I have defeated death and sorrow and sin forever! I've taken your punishment and conquered it so that we can be together again - if you will only trust me!

How can I not trust him? He is risen and I am alive forever. No matter where I am on this dying ground or what I do in my impermanent life, he is my portion, forever! Words can't express how thankful I am. How overwhelming grateful I am to have parents who have raised me in the understanding of the gospel! Who have prayed for me, nurtured and set the example for what it really means to be faithful to the Lord. How grateful I am to be surrounded by the church, the body and bride of Christ, who constantly direct my wandering heart back to the gospel.

So be encouraged on this dreary Easter Sunday. We have a hope that far exceeds the disappointments of this world. May you rest in His sweet sweet goodness today.

Conversations in the Flex

Sometimes my head and heart are so full of dreams and ideas and funny little sayings that I am spilling over with things to write about. Unfortunately, this often leads to being too overwhelmed to actually talk about anything because I can't seem to pin down a good place to start. Which is my main excuse for inconsistent blog posts. So here are a few nanny snapshots because I can't write anything inspirational...

Like every day, we are driving home from school in the Flex. SB, from her booster seat in the back, is lamenting the fact that after Valentine's Day, there will be no holidays for a long time. From the front S agrees, sad that the 4th of July is more than five months away.

I am appalled at their ignorance of what is, in my opinion, the best holiday of them all.

A: "Hellooooo... what about Easter?!"

S: "Oh yeah, I forgot about Easter!"

SB: "Yay, the Easter Bunny!"

Again appalled because Easter is not about the Easter Bunny.

A: "SB, Easter is not about the Easter Bunny."

S: "Then what is it about?"

Luckily we are in traffic, so I can bang my head on the steering wheel without endangering their lives. I look at S in horror, but before I can say anything...

SB: "It's about candy!"

Can this get any worse? Really??! But I am determined to hold on to the hope that they really do know, they're just being ridiculous, or forgetful, or just plain silly.

A: "No SB it's not about candy!"

And out of nowhere H pipes up...

H: "Yeah, SB it's not about caannddy, it's about Healthy Food!"

I surrender in a fit of laughter. My frustration is swamped by H's sweet attempts at goodness. I calmly explain that Easter is actually about Jesus. How he left his Father and all his glory and came rushing to our rescue. How he chose to love us despite all our whining and complaining and lying and took all our badness and died, so we could have his goodness instead. And then in the greatest magical moment of all - better than candy or healthy food or the ending of the best fairy tale imaginable - he came back to life. And we are going to live with him forever and have the best adventures. 

Take that Mr. Easter Bunny. Then S says, "well of course I knew that," and my confidence in their holiday knowledge is once again restored. Later on S and I start talking about Valentine's Day....

S: "You know what's sad?"

A: "What?"

S: "It's really sad that Honey Boo Boo's mom has a boyfriend."

A: "I completely agree. What is this world coming to? That is very sad."

S: "Well, it's not sad for me, I'm 13 and have plenty of time. It's just more sad for you."

Bahahahaha! I laughed so hard I cried, and informed S that my standards for boyfriends were much higher than Honey Boo Boo's mother.

Conversations at Starbucks with a 4-year-old

H: Abby, who is your favorite person?

A: Is this a trick question?

H: Who is your favorite person?

A: Um... Jesus.

H: No, it can't be someone who lives in the sky!

A: (Hmm... good point?) I don't have favorites. I love everyone the same.

H: No, who is the favorite kid you babysit?

A: I like, S, SB and H the best.

H: If you don't say just me, I won't let you play with my toys.

A: That hardly seems fair.

H: (Takes another bite of doughnut) Well... since you got me a doughnut, I guess I'll let you play with them. 

I really do love them all the same. But H has such a knack for saying things that make me giggle. 

Real Life?

I'm sitting here listening to coyotes howl outside my window and wondering if this is real life. There are CAH-YO-TEES howling outside my window! I'm avoiding sleep and other such silly notions, and once again, I am blown away by the realization that this is not where I expected to be (SC) or what I expected to be doing (What AM I doing?). Welcome to the life of an obsessive planner.

The other day I wondered how 12-year-old Abby would respond if she saw me. Having just finished reading Mother Theresa's biography - I think she would be very disappointed to discover I was not caring for sick people in the slums of India. Actually I think she'd be surprised I was still alive - considering I was convinced I would be a martyr for my faith by age 19. Reading Jesus Freaks at a young age will do that for you.

But alas dear innocent 12-year-old self, I am instead listening to coyotes howl outside my window and wondering what 35-year-old Abby will be doing. If history is to be any sort of guide, I will obviously NOT be doing anything I expect to be. But as it turns out - I don't think that's such a bad thing.

Good Lord. May I be ever content in my circumstances but ever longing for your eternal glory.

Gloria

I love this time of year. The approach of winter, the anticipation of Christmas, the fresh start of the new year. It’s marvelous. But lately I have found myself becoming so very tired, overwhelmed by the to do’s on my Christmas list, worried about completing tasks, consumed with impressing those around me, all of which have completely eclipsed the joy that should be radiating through me during this season.

And today is a dreary rainy day. Call me melancholy, but there’s something about these types of days that are good for my soul. I love hearing the rain pound into the hard ground, feeling the cool mist on my skin and looking at the stark nakedness of the trees. I don’t quite know what it is about those trees, but I am fascinated by the way the branches twist and bend and spread out into tiny twigs that sharpen against the background of a light grey sky. It’s beauty, raw and harsh, glorious in its barest and most vulnerable presentation.

And in the midst of my tree ponderings, my mind is interrupted by a scene involving two young people and a baby in a stable. The roughness of the straw, the dank smell of animals and blood, the cries of a woman in labor. How raw and harsh was the reality of this baby’s birth. How vulnerable and bare they must have felt! And yet, and yet how glorious, how loud the whisper of his coming, how overwhelming beautiful was his arrival. That the God of sunsets and stars, trees and mountains, the God of joys and sorrows and kings and presidents and everything, this, yes this Almighty being has come to earth in His most vulnerable and tangible form to save us.

to SAVE us.

to save US.

Oh how glorious! Emmanuel! God is with us again. And there were shepherds watching their flock by night and behold an angel of the LORD came upon them, and the glory of Yahweh shone about them, and they were afraid. And the angel said, “Fear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joy that shall be for ALL people. For unto you is born this day a Savior, your Messiah, and He is Christ the Lord.

Gloria, gloria in excelsis deo!

It’s no wonder Mary pondered all these things, treasuring and storing them away in her heart. Who can understand, who can fully appreciate the glory and mystery of Jesus Christ, who came as a baby to save us from our sins.

May we not be too busy this season. May we sit and ponder these mysteries and treasure them, holding them ever close to our hearts. 

MUSIC

I'm sitting here listening to Pachelbel Canon and other various classical wonders, and I am overwhelmed by how stirringly beautiful the music is. Why is there such a strong emotional bond between music and our hearts? To me, it is one of the greatest masterpieces and gifts of God's imagination. Harmonies can make me cry. The violin and piano together - I could listen forever. That He would give us music, what a joy! Great music just makes you want to be a better person, it reminds us there's more to life than the superficial and calls us to something greater than ourselves. Why is that?

Here's music that has been inspiring me lately. What kind of music stirs you? I'd love your thoughts.

face-tweet-insta-pin

I am relatively content with my life until I get on facebook, or pinterest or twitter or whatever hateful God-forsaken website Satan created to force people to constantly compete and compare aspects of their lives with each other.

So today, I was content to sing at church, talk to a friend on the phone, go for a run, bake cookies, and watch Once Upon A Time. That's a good day for me. Anyway I decided to take a picture of the cookies and put in on Instagram because that's what kids do these days when they bake something awesome (which, by the way, were awesome, oatmeal-chocolate chip-craisin-deliciousness). And I just got consumed with everyone else's pictures and lives and it made me wonder if Moses or any of those people stranded in the desert really understood what it meant when God said THOU SHALT NOT COVET, cause I can't even touch a computer without wanting something someone else has or feeling insecure about what I don't have.

I mean the Israelites lived in the desert, what did they covet, their neighbor's plot of sand?

And it's not just stuff for me. It's people's lives really. Did God say do not covet your neighbor's life? Wasn't it your neighbor's donkey? (That's a fun one to read in the King James) I see picture after picture on Face-tweet-insta-pin of adventure and friendship and success and people getting degrees or married or traveling around the world and honestly, it made my cookies taste less fantastic than they really were.

I've attached worth to things people do, the things I do, and I rank myself as less successful, less worthy, less interesting because I don't have _____ .

It's ridiculous because I've been given so much. But I find myself wondering if my life is enough and if I'm living up to my own expectations - which is even more ridiculous because they're absolutely unattainable. And all this posting-tweeting-pinning-dreaming-coveting-lusting only fuels this idea in my head that life is supposed to be perpetually

happy. fun. exciting. sexy. interesting. adventurous. entertaining. rewarding. successful. PERFECT.

But the reality of it all is that life is hard and full of struggle. And Jesus said the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life. Somewhere along the way I missed this, and came to believe that this life and it's experiences are supposed to be happy and rewarding all the time, and if it's not I need ____ in order to make it so. It's like being in a race and somehow getting turned around - discovering I was striving toward perfection and not running toward the gospel.

How silly of me.

Here's what I'm NOT saying. I'm not saying that life is supposed to be miserable and people shouldn't enjoy anything and shouldn't post happy statuses on facebook. But what I am trying to get across is that living life in pursuit of the gospel isn't supposed to be easy. And it's okay to be lonely or bored or sad or afraid or unfulfilled. This isn't my eternal home, this isn't where my hope lies and therefore it is absolutely okay if my life is not perfect. I can rest in the promise that he who began a good work in me will see it to completion.

That doesn't mean I sit around and do nothing, it doesn't mean that I'm not seeking to live out the gospel in my daily life. But it does mean that I can rest in the faithfulness of a God who is generous and loving enough to let a sinner be a part of his great story of redemption and reconciliation.

Well, I've written myself into a much more encouraged state of mind. I think I'll go eat another cookie.