New Journal

I have a beautiful leather bound journal that I've been writing in for about 3 years. Today I wanted to write "THE END" in it and start a new journal. But I couldn't do it. You know why? Because it's only about a third full. In three years, I've only written in roughly 30 pages of my beautiful journal. 

I wanted to start fresh with a new journal today but I didn't. And the reason why is because of one word that I've committed 2015 to understanding better. The word is "BECOMING". I am in the process of becoming a committed writer, therefore, I need to finish what I started. This is difficult for me because I love beginning new adventures. My favorite word is "beginning" not "becoming". 

My journal has one of my favorite verses embossed on it. It says, "For I know the plans I have for you." Declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11. 

In my future, which is happening one second, one minute, one hour, one day at a time, in my future, I want to be a person who it is said, "She finished what she started. She became what she set out to become because she didn't stop when it felt like she had only made it inches from where she began. Her future was bright and bold and brave because she became those things  little-by-little, one day at a time." 

Where ever you are today, I hope you pick up your good habit, or your goal, or your resolution you began in January and you KEEP GOING today. We can become it if we keep at it. 

Get To The Other Side

I spoke at a women's retreat over the weekend and today I'm tired. Like, T-I-R-E-D! I spoke five times to this attentive and sweet and hilarious group of women - all of which I'm sure I could learn FAR more from than I could ever teach TO them. I spoke to them about their story. Advising them to tell their story. Helping them to shape their story. And reminding them that FEAR is the enemy of their story. And today I woke up feeling all afraid on the inside. Ugh.

I learned from God's Word as the Spirit taught it to me and through me. I taught that suffering is the way through to glory.  Some new great opportunity for growth and joy awaits each of us, but it seems that with it comes an obstacle to overcome. Growth comes through overcoming. I’m reading “Jesus Calling” and today’s first line, in ALL capital letters, screams at my restless soul, “DO NOT BE AFRAID”. Easier said than done. That hits me hard today. Today that feels as improbable as saying to my brunette head of hair, “BE PLATINUM BLONDE”. Not gonna happen.

The writer of this great devo continues to annoy my flesh with these words, “Hear Me saying Peace, be still to your restless heart.”

Peace sounds like a something unfamiliar today. But ‘restless heart’? Oh yes, now that one I know!

So I begin to pray because my heart won’t calm down. I open my Bible to the passage of scripture that this command from Jesus came from: Mark 4:35-41.

Jesus and His disciples are getting in a boat, escaping the crowds, and heading for the next place they are to help, heal, do the impossible. And so Jesus lays down to sleep, because pouring out your gifts to people is exhilarating and exhausting. As Jesus slept, a storm came up...scripture says, “a furious squall came up”. Oh you dang ‘furious squall’, I know you; I know you all too well. So the disciples totally freak out and wake Jesus to calm the storm. Mark tells us that Jesus got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!”

It calmed down. Completely calm.

And then Jesus turned to deal with the scaredy-cat disciples. He asked them, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

But the verse that stings my heart and soul today is early in this passage when Jesus and the disciples were getting into the boat. Before the storm hit. Before the fear came upon them. In verse 35, in red-Jesus-letters, it says, “Let us go over to the other side.”

There’s restlessness in my soul today. A battle raging. And Jesus beckons me to get on the other side of this thing. We don’t know if the disciples could see the clouds circling and building before they got into the boat. Did they see the sky turning grey? Could they see the impending darkness threatening? Could they see small white caps covering rocky waves? We don’t know. But we know our own hearts. We can see when the sky is turning grey in our mind, our mood. We can sense an internal fight for joy. We know the motion-sickness of the rocky waves of emotion or insecurity or fear or depression.

But Jesus offers me/you this: Let us go over to the other side.

I don’t have to go alone.

Us.

He said, “Let us go...”

I’m not taking His hand today. I’m full-on running and jumping into His embrace and letting Him carry me to the other side as He says to my racing heart, mind, soul, “Quiet! Be still!”

I’m going to trust Him to get me to the other side of this thing that threatens my faith.

And every single time I feel fear creeping, I’m going to punch fear with God’s Word, “Quiet! Be still! Jesus said I have nothing to fear and I believe Him over anything I feel.”

Praying that we get to the other side of our obstacle today.

And when you get to the other side, keep going! 

Keylockey

The other night I was tucking Emmy into bed. She says to me the thing she says every single night, "Tell me a story."  And so I began, "Once upon a time, there was a princess named Emery Noel---" 

Normally at this point in my Mark Twainesque story telling, my child begins smiling from ear to ear and I get all tingly on the inside like it's Christmas morning and I'm 5 years old. Approval from my baby...yes...awwwwe! But on this particular night she screamed, "NO MAMA! Not THAT story!" 

You can imagine my response: Shock! Horror! 

"What story do you want me to tell you, Emmy?"

She responds cooly, "Tell me the story bout Keylockey."

"Keylockey?" (pronounced in perfect 3-year-old vernacular:  "Key-Lock-Eeeeee") 

"Yes, Mama! Keylockey! Now tell me that story."

I wanted to. I really did. But I didn't know that story. For the life of me, I could not figure out the story "bout Keylockey".  If this situation was a Jack-Bauer-24-situation and the perpetrator had held a knife to my throat and told me to tell the story about Keylockey or else die, I would have said, "Please ask Jack Bauer to say nice things about me at my funeral." It was dire straights, people. 

And so the inevitable back-and-forth began between me and my tired baby girl. 

"Do you mean the story about Queen Esther?"

"NO! KEYLOCKEY!"

"Emmy, is that a story you want me to make up?"

"NO! KEYLOCKEY!"

"Baby, I don't remember that story."

Emery takes my face into her tiny hands, puts our faces nose-to-nose and says, "Mama, it's like this: KEY-LOCK-EEEEEEE!"

At this point I start laughing. What else could I do? She was so precious in this moment. Pronouncing it perfectly and drawn out in her southern little voice so that her slower-than-usual Mama could maybe understand.

But I didn't understand. 

And Emery was frustrated. FRU-STRA-TED!!!

I continued laughing, which escalated Emery's frustration into a meltdown, not my intention, but I couldn't help wanting to bottle this moment up and save it forever. 

And then it hit me, "Are you talking about the story I told you a couple nights ago?"

The fit-throwing ceased. She looked at me with hope in her eyes, "Yes? What is that story, Mama?"

"The story about Goldilocks?" 

"Yeeeessssssss!" She squealed with excitement, "KEYLOCKEY". 

We laughed and cheered for ourselves. And then I did the only thing I could do, I told her the story bout Keylockey. 

As I laid in bed that night and for many nights since then, I've thought about how in life we can feel so misunderstood. I'll be 35 this month and there are still times when I want to take life by the face, put it nose to nose with mine and scream, "KEYLOCKEY!" or in another translation, "Does anyone understand me? Hear me? See me? Know what I mean even if I don't know what I mean?" 

And every time God answers me, "I'm right here. Lean in. Lay down. Relax. I'm telling My story and you are in it! I understand you because I made you and I love you. Open My Word. I will tell you great things that you don't know. And look around, child, I have put people around you to walk with you, to teach you, to help you, to love you." 

There's so much I don't know, but I want to know. I want to be open. I want to grow. 

And I want people on the journey with me as they figure it out also. Some days/nights we cry out like Emmy did, just wanting to be heard and understood. That's why having a solid "tribe" around us is so important. When I cry out to my people, my tribe, I need them to be ready to impart truth, wisdom, laughter, tears, or even a butt-kicking, if I need it (I need it A LOT). God puts those people in our lives to help us navigate the areas we deem grey but others see as blue or pink or gold. We need a tribe to help us translate and figure out the "Keylockey" moments. 

I hope you are aware of your tribe. Pray for God to solidify that tribe in your life. And pray for God to begin shaping your spouse's and children's tribes with hilarious, loving, do-gooding, truth-telling, Jesus followers. 

Cuz we all need for someone to translate our Keylockey (and our Crazy). 

PS - Thanks for letting me indulge a "24" reference. It's my summer fling; my insufferable indulgence that I'm sure to reference in life b/c if anything is real it's the 24-hour-spans of time in the life of CTU Special Agent, Jack Bauer. 

Sweat or Cheese

I've been eating really healthy. I've been working out like a mad woman. And seeing great results! Don't "whoop whoop" too early...I'm not finished writing.

I reluctantly crawled up on my elliptical tonight, my body felt like it was in S-L-O-W motion. The slowest. My body was revolting saying "NO! Not gonna! Don't wanna!"  My energy was so low that at one point I actually laid my head down on the elliptical. Laid. It. Down.

Somehow I got the hour finished in record time. Record LOW, that is. Wrote down my pathetic results in my workout journal like I always do. Then I headed for the shower. 

I turned on the shower, put my towel on the towel rack and then it was time to step into the hot shower that I had not earned but sure was looking forward to...and that's when it happened.

I glanced down and something caught my eye...it's usually sweat b/c I'm a sweaty girl and I'm like totally nasty covered in sweat at the end of a work out. But this wasn't sweat.

No! It Couldn't be?!?! Oh the horror! NOOOOOO!!!! But it was. Graded cheese was inside my sports bra. The very evidence of my sins of the day. 

Today I blew it. Like big time. If I saw it and thought it might be consumable, I unhinged my jaw and devoured it whole. I attacked food today like one who's been locked away without food for a month. I attacked it so intensely that it was apparently lodged in my sports bra. I mean, seriously, are y'all gonna need to wire my mouth shut?!?! And because I ate junk food today, I had low energy when it came time to work out. My own choices leading to my failure. One choice and step at a time. Cheese in the sports bra. Classy, Jes. Real classy. 

I laughed it off as I stepped in to the hot shower and I thought, "Hey, at least I got my workout done. And tomorrow is a NEW day! Hallelujah!" 

So if you blew it with your healthy choices today, don't feel alone and don't give up! 

We can do this!!! #FitbyFourth 

Ask someone to hold you accountable. And if you have a day when you've got cheese in your sports bra just know: you're not the first, you're not alone, and you can do better tomorrow. 

Keep Going!