Momma-isms

As I get older, I find I'm having moments where little snippets from my childhood are coming back to me at random moments. My dad was such a goofball, and had a million little things he said that made us all laugh--at least the first 150 or so times he said them. Those little "Ralph-isms" keep coming up in my speech and even in my husband's here and there, and warming my heart. As a matter of fact, I even hear them come out the mouth of my oldest now and then. We can all smile now as we remember that side of my dad. Surely, God has done a healing work!

Repeating truths is so important. I have verses that have literally gotten me through written on cards and stuck all over my house from the walls to the refrigerator. They're like old friends now that encourage me when I need a lift and remind me when I forget how big my God is. Eventually, they get stuck in my mind.

You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You. Isaiah 26:3

The other day I was repeating one of my own phrases that make my children roll their eyes. I have said these things to my children all throughout their lives, and though they roll their eyes now, I'm sure they will find them coming out of their mouths someday! For now, I'm going to write them down--just in case they try to forget!

1. Do the thing until you feel the thing.
This has a couple applications to me. When the kids were really small and someone hurt someone else's feelings, an apology was needed. Oftentimes, one sniffling toddler was made to look the other one in the eye and say a genuine, "I'm sorry." I can just see their little faces as they would look at me and say, "But, I'm not really sorry! Why do I have to say it?"
Well, because sometimes the feelings follow the words. We say we are sorry and sure enough when we see what that meant to somebody else, all of a sudden we realize we did mean it after all! It worked like a charm.
It also makes me think of my little ones who were taught about the goodness of God in our family, but our story hadn't become their own yet. I remember one of my little ones saying, "I want to love Jesus, but I don't really feel it yet."
Again, I would say, "Do the thing until you feel the thing." They learned what love looked like, and claimed it over their little lives before they even realized how powerful those words would be! It wasn't too long before our faith became their own--when the love of God became more than a family belief and was known deep in their very own spirit.

Isn't that true for us? There are so many times in my life, whether I'm working or dealing with a family issue where my heart isn't really where it should be. My words can lead me, though; in a good way or a bad one! Maybe I'm not feeling like I'm brimming over with love for my husband in a given moment, but when I let my words of love lead, feelings can change. We don't want to be led by our emotions. We want to be led by what is truth.

2. A job worth doing is a job worth doing well.
Granted, this one's been around a while, but I say it every time chores are done halfway around here. Isn't it so true, though? Why bother putting the effort in if in the end you can't be proud of it?

3. Never put off for tomorrow what you can do today.
This one goes hand in hand with number two, but has pushed me many times to follow through and finish something I've started when I really wanted to quit. Procrastination is a bad, bad habit and when you do it a little, you can easily begin to do it more often.
Now, this comes in moderation for me. If there is fun to be had playing with my family, I'm a firm believer in enjoying a stolen moment. Work will be there tomorrow!
As a child, too many adults in my life validated themselves by working hard. It was very easy to overlook a child who needed some love and time.
Moments cannot be retrieved.

4. There's nothing you and I can't handle together.
I want my kids to have this one engraved on their hearts. It's so important for them to know that if they bring their stuff to me and their dad, we will help them through it. If they hide things, they go alone and we walk separate paths. Our paths as a family were not meant to be walked alone. We have arms to hold each other up.

5. You do bad things, bad things happen. You do good things, good things happen.
There are things in this world called natural consequences. We can look around at the lives of people around us and see this seemingly obvious truth in every direction. Sometimes, when faced with a temptation we need to be reminded of the outcome. It will most definitely reflect the decision.

6. Do the best you can do. That's all you can do, Kid.
This one is a recycled Ralph-ism. My dad didn't pass on a whole lot of wisdom to me, but this one I remember. He would tell me this when I had a test to take, or was nervous about an upcoming event.
It's really so simple it's almost silly, but it's so true! All we have to offer is our best. If we are being faithful and doing our very best, no one can really expect more, can they? And if we fail after having done our best, we should have no regrets.

My last one is one is just a universal truth known by all who dwell in this home. It helps them keep stay focused and put things in their proper order. It reminds them that secrets are always found out, Daddy will always come to my defense, and there's no use fighting too hard because...

7. Momma always wins.

Isn't that great? So simple, yet so eloquent. I've even made them repeat the rule back to me should they sound like it's fading from their minds.
I really like that one.

I want to hear some of your words! What things do you find yourself repeating as words of wisdom at your house? Please share them as comments here on the blog. I have a feeling there's a lot of wisdom to go around!




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The shape I'm in

Image--1. a mental picture or impression of something
2. An exact likeness

Recently, I spent some time in a dressing room.

If you are of the female persuasion you know how devastating this can be. I firmly believe that the most disheartening experience a woman over about age 13 can face is the set of mirrors that encloses you on three sides and shows you glimpses and views of yourself you haven't seen in quite some time. And come to find out, you didn't want to see at all.
The person who has the brilliant idea to utilize softer lighting and flattering mirrors in a dressing room will sell more clothes than every other store put together. As I see it, the ugliest, brightest lights that show every lump and bump are the ones currently being used. And I swear those mirrors are shipped in from some sadistic funhouse.
You know I'm telling the truth, ladies.

This time, oh so thankfully, was not the dreaded bathing suit or undergarment shopping.
And at the risk of sounding like I'm bragging, I will tell you that my husband took me shopping and helped me choose clothes for this fall and winter, and we had a great time. Usually, clothes for me are dead last on my list of priorities, and consist of clearance rack rescue.
But this year, the closet pickings were looking a bit slim, and I guess he figured I'd get a little chilly, or embarrassed, running around this winter without any on because he hooked me up. He's so good to me.
But, despite the best possible shopping experience, I left feeling disheartened and discouraged. I struggled with the image in the mirror. It just wasn't what I had hoped it was. I wish I was over this stage in my life where it matters. Apparently, I'm not.

The store that is my favorite has salesgirls that helped me pick things out and give me advice. It's really the only way I know how to to shop any more. I don't know what section to shop in in any department stores. Maybe it's because I don't know exactly how a woman my age should look.
Probably because in my head I'm still about 22. I think of myself as a girl. Not an almost forty year old woman. Big, HUGE sigh.........

No matter our size or shape, I firmly believe every person struggles with body image at some point or another, and some of us struggle a bit longer in life than others.


Obviously, everyone at some point has made a conscious effort to create the image of themselves that they want to portray to the world. Much as a sculptor forms an image from raw material into art.
It begins around adolescence, (when we realize that our mothers actually had a good idea when they made us brush our teeth and do our hair), and hopefully changes and morphs until eventually one presents him/herself the way they want to look.
We start with a costume of sorts to fit into whatever crowd we associate ourselves with (depending on how hard we are trying to not look like our parents), and then, somehow, we spend the rest of our lives trying to look like whatever unrealistic, airbrushed picture society tells us to emulate.

What bothers me is that we have this picture in our mind of how we should look, and then we base our success or failure on that image in our mind.
What also bothers me is how much we are compelled to dwell on our outside sculpture and how much less we are compelled to shape our inside.

What shows more?

At the end of the day, aren't you more moved by the encounters you've had with people than the way they presented themselves. What did you notice? How they behaved, or what they were wearing?

Today, I was blessed to run into a man at the grocery store that I met only once, but he hugely impacted my life. He was used by God to speak life into my world at an age when I had NOTHING going for me. I happen to know he has impacted literally thousands of people in the same way, yet all these years later he knew my face. Our spirits had connected once upon a time and again today. I wept in the baking aisle as I thanked him for making room in his world for me.

I have no idea what he was wearing or if he had gained any weight over the years. Wouldn't that have been ridiculous to notice?

When I looked in his eyes, I saw the image of my God reflected.
"God created man in His own image." Genesis 1:27

Typically, when I step out for the day, I have spent nearly an hour preparing my outside to look as good as it's going to look.
How about preparing the image that should matter? What do people remember from an encounter with me?

I'm facing the fact that I'll probably never find perfection in a three-way mirror. But, I have the opportunity to look into the eyes of several people in any given day and reflect a different image of One Who I've allowed to shape me. Hopefully, its an image that looks a lot like pure love.

Because He is the three-way reflection of me that tells me who I really am.

The voice of my Sculptor Who loves me is the One I want to hear. Not the one in my head that usually spews lies.

The following is a love letter that gently screams truth. This is going to be printed tonight and put on my bathroom mirror and that of my girls.

This is the voice I choose to hear...

"My dearly loved daughter, I love you with an everlasting love, a lavish love. You are my princess, the apple of My eye. I gather you in My arms and carry you close to my heart. I rejoice over you with singing.
Carefully and skillfully, I knit you together in your mother's womb. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Every hair on your head is numbered. Every smile catches My eye. I think of you constantly. Were I to count the number of times each day I think of you they would outnumber the grains of sand on the seashore. I know you completely. I know when you sit, and when you rise. I know your thoughts before you think them; I know the words you say before you speak them.
Daughter, let me have all your worries and all your cares for I know all that concerns you. I know the thoughts and plans I have for you; plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future. Open wide your heart and I will fill you with My holy love.
My love will satisfy you. My love will fill your deepest longings. Keep your heart bound up in Mine, for with Me you can do all that I have called you to do. My love for you is higher, deeper, wider than you can possibly imagine. I'd do anything for you--I gave My Son's very life for you.

I love you, precious one.
Your Daddy

And if that doesn't convince you, take a few minutes and listen to this amazing new song from Cody Carnes. It changed my world.


Love letter borrowed from Lorraine Pintus--author of Jump off the Hormone Swing


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One note at a time

I had my third cello lesson this week. Oh, my. Let me tell you, there has been no other instance in my adult life in which I have felt so dumb. Having taught piano for 21 years seems to help me very little with this instrument. It helps me read the music, but that's about it.
To make music on the piano, you touch the keys. To make music on the cello requires thinking of about 250 different things at the same time, and apparently, even then, it may sound like a tortured bovine.
The first week of practice, I may have apologized to my family a thousand times, and truly, I almost quit for their sake alone.
The second week, I got to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in some variations and sometimes it sounded like a real song. My hope was renewed. I brought this and page after page of brilliance back to my teacher who said I was doing very well and that this week we were going to concentrate on how I played the notes.
Wait...what? Didn't you hear how many pages I got done this week?
Who cares if I'm using the bow like a handsaw! My D scale actually sounded like eight real notes!
I don't think she cared.
She wants me to focus on each bow stroke; how much of the bow I use for each note, how lightly I use the bow to produce a good tone, to keep my elbow and wrist loose and "flowy". This in addition to everything else. I can't just saw my way through a million little songs. Sigh.

Christian and I were talking about this very concept this week upon his return from Europe. Every time he has been there, he has been struck by one glaring truth. Europe produces quality. America produces quantity.
In Europe, you buy handmade pastries and bread and fresh fruits and vegetables every morning. You don't go to Walmart and stock up on supplies for the week.
When you dine out in Europe, it is expected that the meal should take hours. I mean, maybe 4 hours. Waitstaff does not earn money based on tips so there is not the need to turn so many tables in a night and no one is in a hurry. Each bite of the food is tasted and enjoyed for pleasure.
Buildings there date back closer to the fall of the Roman empire than to current date and have the beauty to prove it. Old buildings here are torn down rather than restored, and then, ironically, a new one is built to look just like the first.
Here, we mass-produce and massively consume. What has it gained us? That answer should be obvious.

The other day was senior day at my local grocery store. I chuckled and thought of my grandparents as I inhaled the smell of mothballs. That, and some browsing in some antique stores this week reminded me of some of my grandparents' way of thinking.
When one bought clothing, you bought few items, but they were good quality and you took care of them so they would last. My grandpa, bless his heart, always smelled of mothballs when he pulled his best suit out. Wonder how long he kept that thing.
When one bought furniture, it was solidly built and you'd better like it because you were gonna slipcover that stuff from now til eternity to make it last. My grandma, bless her heart, had practically the entire living room covered in plastic. Floor runners ran in mazes covering every path you might walk, plastic or flowery slipcovers adorned the "sofa", and the original plastic covered the lampshades so they never got dusty.
Now, we buy cheap products, and when they're ruined, we buy another.

I have been bemoaning the arrival of fall. I'm such a summer girl, through and through, that most times all that fall feels like to me is a precursor to the season I dread. Sock-sweater-huddle-around-the-fire-to-keep-warm-season. No-basking-in-the-sun-season. "Can't-I-just-feel-warm"-season.
As I was driving down the road I rolled my eyes at the leaves that were beginning their metamorphosis, and I knew the voice of my God as He said to me, "Look around you! Isn't it beautiful? I made it just for you."
Humbled, I smiled. "It is beyond beautiful. You made this just for me."


"I'm speechless, in awe—words fail me.
I should never have opened my mouth!
I've talked too much, way too much.
I'm ready to shut up and listen." Job 40:3-5

If I take a minute to look--to really see--instead of always thinking about the next thing. To slow down and look around and notice what I've been given. To taste and enjoy what I eat. To hear, or create a single, beautifully played note. To see the beauty and perfection in what's been made just for me.

To hear the music, smell the roses, and live this day one note at a time...




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I didn't sign up for this...

Today was one of those days! The kind where if I would've known ahead of time all that I needed to accomplish in one day, I would've tried to skip! I worked so hard from early until late that I fell asleep when my head hit the pillow, rather than suffering through the "hamster on a wheel" that is often my bedtime brain.
It doesn't help that my husband has been somewhere across the ocean for some time now. He comes home very soon, but not having my best friend here to notice and care makes the days even longer.

I have definitely had my share of time with my husband traveling. For nineteen of our twenty years together he has traveled for his job, and the amount, distance, and length of trips has only increased over time. Today, the difficult part is mostly that I miss him. Once upon a time, the difficult part was parenting little ones virtually alone.
Back in the day, I had twenty-four piano students in the afternoons and evenings when two of my three kids were getting home from school, an infant, and a husband who worked at the office, traveled, and worked two to three days out of an office in Detroit. Not to mention, I had no dishwasher!
Honestly, I don't know how I survived that season.
Then, he started working in the aviation industry and began traveling to Europe in addition to all the state-side travel. At some point in there we were called to homeschool. This did put a lot of the work-burden on me. But, on the flip-side, the kids and I became quite the little band of merry men. I look back very fondly on those years.

Now, here I am with one still home doing school with me, and two in the workforce. And my husband far away from me.

It's so easy to sum all of that up into a nice little story, but it doesn't tell you about the day-to-day difficulty of doing all that needed to be done--virtually alone. There were many tears and feelings of loneliness and hopelessness for me throughout those years. In one particularly ungraceful moment of wallowing in self-pity, after hearing Christian was leaving again, I remember saying the following embarrassing, ugly words: "I didn't sign up for this."

This week in a movie I watched and in a book I read, I heard two wives say those words, and each time I was reminded of saying them myself.
Because, guess what. I DID sign up for "this"! And everything "this" entailed. It's called better or worse. It's called thick and thin (literally and figuratively). :o) It's also called perspective.
Two years ago today, we had just arrived home from a 4800 mile 17 day trip that made a big circle from Michigan to the East Coast, up to Prince Edward Island and back around through Canada and home again. Last year at this time, we were several weeks into a three and a half month, epic adventure from coast to coast covering almost twelve thousand miles. In the span of twelve years or so, we have now road-tripped all 48 states together!
Two of my three have been to Europe with their Dad, and the third is gearing up for her turn.
I say all that not to sound boastful because I know without a doubt that those trips have all been gifts from my heavenly Daddy, but it reminded me that what I had so pathetically complained about also became my blessings. It just depended on how I looked at it! Christian's job had allowed us the chance to see the world.
I could have had a more typical lifestyle, and would have missed out on so very much. Getting "thrown" out of the box was to my benefit!
Good thing I signed up for the "this"!

Life is so much like that, isn't it? We commit, then complain along the way, and then eventually, with some perspective we can look back and see how the struggles actually grew us and somehow became something to be grateful for.
Now, I'm working on skipping that whole complaining part, and just starting out being thankful. For what is surely for my good (Romans 8:28), knowing the plans He has for me can only be for my good (Jeremiah 29:11), and realizing that in the end I've developed character; and that is priceless.

There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 5:3-5
The Message






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Coming soon to a woman near you...

I just have to share this. It is definitely a change from my usual blog postings, but I just had to address it. I so wish I would have had some of this insight twenty years ago.
And for those of you husbands who might be reading, if you have any love at all for your wife, please read on.

For years, my husband has loved me through a roller coaster of hormones that may have sent a lesser man packing. For some reason, this girl has had issues regarding estrogen and progesterone and their wild, wild ride that most times hasn't seemed quite fair.

I listened to these messages this morning and cried. It is so important to relate and know that someone understands. Maybe most importantly that it is not my imagination.

PMS is truly a physical issue that is used as a spiritual battleground. We cannot afford to take it lightly and dismiss it. Especially when it is such a real and relevant issue, or maybe it would be better described as a clear and present danger. :o)

Please, take the time to listen to this. There are two messages available, and both are amazing. They are also on iTunes as a podcast titled "The Hormone Swing." It will change the way you think.

If you've struggled in this area and can relate please comment here on the blog. I'm thinking this might be a topic worth discussing further...

A poem by the author of the book I'm reading called, "Jump off the Hormone Swing," Lorraine Pintus:

The Crowd that is Me

Within this body live many women
There's one that is holy, and one that is sinnin'.
One woman sings loudly with lots of praises
Another spreads fear for the rage that she raises.

One wife is gracious, selfless and kind
Another is toxic and out of her mind.
One mother is gracious and stunningly wise
Another is foolish even in her own eyes.

The woman that emerges depends on one thing
The nature of her hormones and the height of her swing.

Kids...

If my father-in-law reads this someday, he will definitely cringe at the title. Dad, I'm sorry. Yes, I know kids are really baby goats, but somehow my children are my kids, too. And aren't your baby goats just the cutest things ever? :o)

A few days ago, I walked down "the kids' hallway" in our house and saw the strangest thing. Every one of their rooms was clean! And I didn't tell them to do it! I could see the color of everyone's carpet! No funny smells were present! Each of my kids were on their beds reading or talking on the phone, and there was no visible mess anywhere. It was a sight to behold, I'm telling you.
I literally stood in the hallway and gaped for several minutes. Angels may have sung--if they did I was too much in shock to notice.

It struck me that I have most certainly turned a corner. No longer am I the mother of children that play with toys. I am no longer the one who has to say, "You can play outside when your room is clean." In fact, I barely have to ask for dirty clothes because they pretty much do their own laundry now. Every night after dinner, my "babies" clear the table, do all the dishes, and clean the kitchen because I made dinner so "Have a seat, Momma."

I own only one sippy cup. I bought it for babies who come visit. I still have an Ariel, Ronald McDonald, and Veggie Tales plate in the cupboard. Not sure why. I have several American Girl dolls packed away next to the Barbies in the basement. Now, in the driveway, I have a car with the name Addilac (Addie's Caddie) instead of Little Tyke and a truck called Ford instead of Tonka.

No more fighting over which Nickelodeon show to watch at my house. Little Bear has now been traded for some documentary. No Sonic on the Sega. Now, my Kyrsten may be playing Black Ops with her brother some evening doing something involving lots of guns in a nuke town...?

Now, problems involve jobs, and relationships, and future decisions when once upon a time, they were blankies needing to get washed, and sleepless nights due to bad dreams, and fights over whose turn it was.

My next step in all this is GRANDMA! Oh, don't you worry about me! When my kids are happily married and have their kids, I will be the happiest granny you ever did see! Bring on the diaper butts!!!

But, for now, I am just a bit reminiscent. I talk to fellow moms who have kids just now in their first days of college. I watch their eyes and hear their hearts cry out as baby bird number one leaves the nest. It's such a difficult thing, this letting go. You spend your life knowing it's coming. In fact, preparing them for just this thing! But, to experience the separation, and to not be there to see what they see and watch out for them. To not know what they eat, or be able to help them get a good night's sleep...it goes against a mom's nature.
From the moment we had them we began a painful separation. I felt this deeply when Justin moved away. As if a huge chunk of my heart couldn't function properly.

I also hear mommas with their little ones getting ready to go back to school. Sadly, to me, some cannot wait for the school bell to ring so their little guys can get out of their hair. I never related to that. I missed them like crazy when they were at school. Life happened when they got home! I guess that's another reason homeschool ended up so perfect for us.
I also hear parents who will miss their kids as they head back to the land of poster paint and recess. Any of these moms may be like I was where while some were off finger painting, mom was at home with other little ones doing naps and diapers. My days (and nights) were so very full that I'm not sure I could appreciate the joy of it as fully as I tried to.

Those days are so few. And fast. And so very, very precious.
But, let me also say this. Do not believe the lies that the teen years are miserable. Yes, they are challenging and will ask you to dig for strength and wisdom beyond your capacity sometimes! But, they are also full of joy if you let them be. It is positively fascinating to see these little people go through an absolute metamorphosis into real-sized people. My parents always said the fun part was over when we were no longer little. How sad! I know how that made me feel! We all need to know we matter just like we are; that we have purpose and worth no matter how many hormones are surging uncontrollably!

Hug your "babies" today. That little face will only be little for a half a second. We don't get to snuggle them nearly long enough. Look at that little person as just that. Not a "being" sucking the very life out of you or getting in the way of the things you have to do, but a little soul who just wants to matter and be loved.

From the momma of three simply amazing kids (with really clean rooms, I might add), I give you two pieces of advice.
Leave no doubt in their minds that they are loved beyond measure--that the things that matter to them matter a great deal to you.
And, make each day count. It is a gift.



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Divin' in

I promise, I was not hired by anyone from the Pure Michigan campaign to write the words that will follow. But, I must confess, I am in love with our lake. It's true. Though I've seen the rest of this amazing country and have fallen in love with the views and vistas in dozens of other states, I'm a summertime, Michigan girl through and through.

I simply cannot imagine living anywhere that I could not take a five minute drive and be at my beach. Christian knows this about me. He puts up with my obsession with my beach and even occasionally joins me there. But, he cannot keep up with my need to bask in the sun and swim in the waves, and looks at me a bit strangely once in a while.
One of my dearest childhood friends lived on Lake Michigan and we spent an awful lot of time together in our growing up years. Much of that time was in the water. When my kids were little, there was nowhere easier to take them for a day of fun. We all tend to be a bit fish-like so to this day, we are at the lake several times a week.

Today, was a sunny day, so to live up to my goal to be at the lake every single sunny day since the water hit 68 degrees, I jumped in the car after all my work was done and took off by myself to my beach. All I bring is a towel and my keys and license. When I arrive, I'm alone and no one is even in sight as far as I can see in either direction on the beach. I set up my towel in my spot and blissfully lay in the sun until I'm nice and toasty and then go for a swim.

Today was apparently Ladies' Day at the beach as two other nice women found their own spot and enjoyed their beach time as well. One was the reading type. She set up her pink umbrella and parked her little chair underneath and read to the sound of the water and seagulls.
The other was more like me. Bring on the crispy, brown skin and occasionally take a dip. No book necessary.

Beach etiquette is a funny thing. There is an unspoken rule, at least at our beach, that you pretty much don't need to make conversation with anyone. Or eye contact. Everyone just does that thing, kinda like at restaurants, where you are in a public place pretending you're all alone. Of course, you are looking to see what other people are doing, but you can be sly about it. Like, you pretend your sleeping, and you just peek out from under your eyelashes to see if what they are up to. No need to say hello. Everyone is just content to be in their own happy little beach bubble. One time, I broke etiquette by complimenting a lady on what a nice mom she was. It was awkward. She really looked at me like, "Are you really talking to me at the beach?"

So, today, the ladies and I, we just made ourselves happy and pretended we were all alone.

Let me just tell you, there is nowhere that I am more content than underwater in Lake Michigan. Well, swimming underwater (just to clarify). There is nothing like the underwater world with nothing to hear but the muted sound of water, and everything you see is blurred and beautiful. No one else can interfere or interrupt.

Today, the water was so calm and warm that I just laid on the top of it and back floated for as long as was possible. The sun kept me warm, the water was crystal clear and I just laid back and felt peace.
Here is where I know my Creator best, in the midst of His Creation. I laid there on the water, and thought about how it felt like being in His arms. That place where everything else can be a total mess, but I can just lie back and know peace. I totally trust that I'm safe.

No matter how heavy my heart may be, I still float.

As I laid there I thought about how much being in the water is like my relationship with God. There were definitely times I didn't feel like getting all the way in.
I laugh at my Kyrsten when we go to the beach together because when the water is cold, she tends to dive right in. I tend to take my sweet time and work up my courage. She is constantly saying, "Mom, go all the way in! You'll feel better once you're all the way in!"

You really can't fully experience swimming in the lake if you're not willing to get all the way in. And you can't really experience what God is like if all you're willing to do is get your toes wet.

And, you can't really experience what my Lake Michigan is like from a picture. You might think it's lovely looking and may want to visit it someday.
Or, you might see a picture of the lake when it's stormy or hear a story someone told of its rip currents and the lives that are lost. From this, you may decide it's not worth your time.
But, if you get all the way in...if you totally surrender and experience it firsthand on a warm, summer day, you will be changed. You may not want to leave!

That's what it like with God, too. You may have seen a good representation of Him in the the kindness of a stranger. Or there could have been something done in His name that looked dark and not at all appealing.
Or maybe a some "wave" came your way in your life, and knocked your legs out from underneath you, and you decided that if God would allow that, you don't need anything to do with Him.
I know that I would hate to have people try to get to know me from what other people had to say about me. And, I sure wouldn't like it if someone decided they didn't want to get to know me at all based on someone else's opinion or representation of me.
And, I could spend all day getting mad at that wave that got me all wet or realize that wave was part of something bigger than I'll ever understand.

There is nothing like the moment when you realize that His love is like an ocean just waiting to refresh and carry you, even when your heart feels heavy--like it could never float again.

I've learned to surrender. Just like I learned to back float. At some point, you just have to do it. You can't surrender a little bit. You either do or don't. At some point, it's just about letting go of what you know, maybe taking a chance even though it goes against what feels natural, and trusting in something bigger than yourself. You were, after all, made to float.

There is a goodness available--a sweetness that only comes from letting go. A peace you can only know when you get all the way in. When you walk up to LOVE and look it full in the face, the only real option is to dive in headfirst.

Kyrsten's favorite song when she was a baby...(seems appropriate)