The Fields Lay Fallow
Do you have dreams laying dormant in the fields of your heart? I encourage you to find the strength and resolve to make them a reality. It will cost you something. You will have to be brave. But the reward is always worth the vulnerability.
This is one of mine: to share the words that have been pent up in my soul, choked back by time and fear, by self-inflicted busy and the worry that there's nothing left to say. But it hasn't all been said. The view from my side of the mountain has never been seen- the unique shade of beauty and pain that colors my life. I have some things to say, to extricate from my mind and leave here on this brave, naked page. I invite you to drink them in, the rawness of my journey, from the wild abandon of little dancing feet on hillsides, to the aching sorrow of losing someone before their time.
Walking with Jesus
This is a space to follow Christ together-- to be encouraged, inspired, challenged, discipled and prayed for. I want to share the full gamut of what's been tightly guarded behind quiet fingers because you just might relate. You just might find hope, joy, a morsel of insight, or confidence that at least you're not as crazy as that sappy rose lady! So here's to laying things down, here's to sowing new life into the paper fields of this revived blog. For five years it's been beckoning my return, but I had some growing to do, some life to live and digest and enjoy and survive.
Webster's defines fallow as "land left unseeded after being plowed and harrowed during a growing season... to regain fertility for a crop to be harvested." I thought, how appropriate. Just like me: "undeveloped, but potentially useful." Haha. That's my prayer- if you join me on this lyrical and emotive journey, perhaps my struggles, my losses and wins, my stagnation and my growth might be useful to you. And if not, then I will have obeyed a prompting from the Lord and planted seeds from my mind that craved to see the light of day and unfurl their leaves. And that will be enough. For me to know that I finally took them off of the shelf and set them gently down. Find rest, sweet seeds in the soft fields of posterity. Burgeon and thrive for the eyes that need to drink you in.
A Girly Tom-boy
A little about me. I can breath easier when I'm surrounded by beauty. I'm more than a little obsessed with roses- growing them, painting them, wearing them. Long after fashion has left them behind, I'll be stuck in a time warp of floral prints. You know it'll happen. Just like all the parents who went before us and could never adapt to skinny jeans and then again to baggy fit, I'll be rockin' my rose-cluttered closet. I'm super girly, but my life is full of rambunctious, stinky little boys. Four to be exact. And one Daddy. I love waxing eloquent about forrest flowers and shining stars, but my daily grind keeps me grounded in a boyish, lego-infested, mud-spattered reality. And I'm totally down to wrestle and run and build. I also love to write and speak and teach. If I'm not gardening or tidying or tending, I'm happiest digging into the Word, composing a message to preach or to prep a simple video devotional.
A Practical Romantic
I spent my childhood soaking in delightful tragedies like the Lady of Shallot from a perch I found halfway up a weeping willow on my parents' acreage in California. Like every good romantic, I would draw and sing and daydream as I watched the colors fade on the mountain nearby. But similar to my Anne with an 'E', I never wanted diamond sunbursts or marble halls. I just wanted one brilliant and kind Buz Hannon. Of course, he didn't have a name yet, but I knew I wanted a life of Christian ministry, of family values, of historical fiction, of analytical nerd-gaming and, above all, true love. Money has never been a high priority for us and we've certainly felt the sting of its absence at times. But we've also known the utter bliss of doing life alongside your soulmate and doing work that is eternal.
Currently, I work from home at the loveliest and hardest job- mommying. I speak Norwegian from a year abroad and have my Master's in ESL, a Bachelor's in Psychology and Art, but who wants those when you can wipe snot smears and diarrhea and dried glue off of children and nearby walls all day long? Not I. I prefer incessant questions, constant motion and tight hugs from soft, chubby arms. I cook as little as possible to make more time for my true passion- getting to the bottom of the dirty laundry closet. Yes, that's correct. We don't just have a hamper- we have an entire closet. It's wonderful. You can just shut the door, walk away and pretend you're not Cinderella for a minute.
'Will Work for Hugs
I homeschool my younger boys, not because I'm a saint with heaps of patience- in fact, quite the opposite. But I am a sentimental and I can't bear the thought of sending them away for all of those hours while they're still so little. It was finally time to send our oldest two sons off into the brave, blue yonder and my heart nearly cracked in two that first week. They are thriving and gobbling up school as I knew their academic souls would. And that makes it a little easier. But also, I'm kind of mad about it. Why don't they want to stay with Mommy forever? I'm freaking awesome.
Vulnerability is My Super Power
I live for Jesus, for quiet meanders through nature, for baby cuddles, artwork, gardens, iced coffee, for mentoring women and for honesty. If it isn't true or honest, I'm just not interested. I think the raw truth of who we really are is the most honoring thing to God and helpful to others as they join us on this purview of life. I'm comfortable with direct questions and crying in public. If I'm feeling broken or moved by compassion, I think it's ok to show it. I've found it invites others to join me in being vulnerable. And being vulnerable in a safe place can lift your spirit and bring healing to hidden places. So I endeavor to be candid here on this compositional journey. And to let the tears flow when I need to. You may not see me ugly-cry, but rest assured-- it's happening.
A Cup of Honesty
I'm a busy mom with a crappy camera. I'm not here to impress anybody, but just to let you in, to encourage you, to inspire you and to pray for you. If the window into my world is pixelated or blurry, I apologize; I'm trying to get away from perfectionism. Not in my camera skills per se, but in my soul. I invite you to join me. Let's talk about our faith and our fears, about parenting, discipling, and mom-bossing. We can discuss discipline and self-care, how to throw a great party or navigate through pain. I want this space to be as rich and variegated as we are-- Christians in real-life. Meet me here and let's share a cup of honesty with four pumps of caramel and extra cream.
PRAY WITH ME
Dear Lord, Would You meet my every reader with the richness and fullness of Your presence today, to affirm their identity, to assail all their fears, to set right what has been broken, to meet their needs-- financial, emotional, relational. If they are in turmoil, descend like a soothing quilt of compassion, warmth and intimacy. If they are in apathy, pervade with Your invigorating, life-altering, all-consuming power to motivate them and draw them back to Your heart. If they are at peace, would You remind them that You are the source and the sustenance for every good thing?
May they feel Your nearness today in the beauty of a shady lane as they drive home, in the contagious laughter and energy of their children, in the quiet that descends at eveningtide, in starlight and good food, even in the simple words of this lyrical record before them. Amidst even the pain and bustle and disappointments of their lives, would You help them to see the beauty, that this great Ecclesiastical life, full of joy and sorrow, is a gift from on High? If there is anything true or noble or right, pure, lovely or admirable, help them to seek it out and dwell therein. May they come to know Your love as palpable, as healing, as more real than the next breath they will inhale. May they know You are for them, and therefore who can be against them?
In Jesus name, Amen.