wake-up walks

Sunday morning Rory and I woke up early to a neighbor dog barking and then he remembered, "there's a blood moon! let's go out and see it. I'll make coffee." So at 6:20 I got out of bed and we stood in the kitchen waiting for the coffee. It was then, while reading more about the blood moon on my phone that I pieced it together. The blood moon would peak at 6:43 on April 4th. But was April 5th.

So there we were, bundled and ready for a morning walk. We still went out and enjoyed a full white moon on a very crisp Easter morning.

It turned out to be the best way ever to start a day.

I had recently read of a movement starting called the 100 day project where lots of people online are committing to doing something for 100 days. I like these sort of efforts but hadn't landed on what I might do until we were out looking for a blood moon on easter morning. We didn't find a red moon, but I did find a glorious day waiting for me to enjoy. The birds were singing, the trees were still and there was fog on the horizon. It was stunning.

So I made a goal: I want to get up before my kids and take a walk. Just to get outside and have some personal time before my day begins. There isn't a distance or exact time of the morning I'm aiming for. The goal is to get outside and go for a walk.

Rory is nervous about the 100 days part, but that's also not the goal. I'm not going to be legalistic or defeated if I miss a day. And I'm not actually participating officially with the online movement. But I do want to feel accountable to something so I decided to track this on my instagram account. If you want to follow along with my daily #wakeupwalk (or even join in!) be sure to swing by my instagram page.

oma zina

Zina is my sister-in-law Lisa's, mom. She moved to Minnesota a few years ago and we are so lucky she did. You might remember Zina from other posts, like when she fried up our pumpkin flowers (I still think about them and can't wait for pumpkin flower season to come!) or when she brought all of her bee keeping equipment that her husband used decades ago. Every time she comes she brings bread for the chickens...loaves and loaves that have been delivered to her apartment from a bakery that doesn't sell day old bread. My chickens love her.

When Zina comes to my house, stuff gets done. She helps in the garden, she folds all of my laundry, she washes all of my Easter dishes. I can't even explain how magical it all feels. Lisa is the same way. They came on Saturday to drop off the ham and then stayed to fold four loads of laundry, run three loads of laundry and help set the Easter table.

And definitely the most meaningful, she prays for my kids every single day. She's such a gift to us.

Happy Easter!

Every Easter Sunday growing up we would say a responsive reading at our church that my dad wrote. And every Easter Sunday since I wake up with these words in my head:

He is Risen!
He is Risen Indeed!
He is Risen!
He is Risen Indeed!
People of God, whom do you seek?
Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified one.
(then there's a whole middle part that I seem to have not memorized...)
The grave could not hold him.
The cross could not contain him.
And nothing will ever be the same!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Today I actually got my hymnal out to look up my favorite Easter hymns. Made me think I should make a set of hymn cards for Easter. I've always meant to make a set for Christmas...

This was my third year hosting Easter and I think I'm getting the hang of it! It helps greatly that I have a family that brings almost all of the food. What a dream. This year I decided to throw some brunch items into the menu, but it ended up being a crazy amount of food. We could have had twenty more people here and I think everyone still would have been fed and full. I'll adjust for next year. Oh but I love hosting for this day. And I love decorating for Easter. Everything becomes so colorful and cheerful. I got three bundles of tulips at the grocery store and and used peeps again for the place cards. Some peeps were partially eaten by the time the guests arrived, thanks to my sneaky children, but I still like using them. And this year we made an Easter Egg tree. My mom always cut a lilac branch the week of Easter, put it in a coffee can filled with rocks and water and by Easter it would have green leaves. Ivar and Elsie loved having an Easter tree and even put the eggs on themselves (I later spread them out onto more than one branch).

Elsie told me she wanted to be "a pretty pink princess" for Easter, so I splurged and got her a new dress at Target. She wore it proudly all day long, part of the time with her winter coat on while in the house... The kids loved hunting for their Easter baskets (hidden in the same places as last year) and really loved the outdoor egg hunt with all the cousins. Auntie Lisa led the pack outside and later we had everyone taking a turn at chopping wood with the ax and walking across a slack line tied between to trees.

Most people got in a nap at some point in the afternoon as the rest of us sat and talked and ate our way through the nine desserts to choose from. It was a really nice day and made for a lovely easter.

I'll end with my favorite moment...finding five family members talking theology in my downstairs bathroom while visiting the awkward adolescent chickens. Of all the rooms in my home, who knew the downstairs bathroom would be the hub of conversation and togetherness!

hey, we're fun!

While in Mesa we left our kids with my folks and took their car on a day long date (thanks for the kid-care and the car, mom and dad!) We started by getting sausage egg mcmuffins, something that delighted us both because we never seem to get to eat off the breakfast menu. Then we went for a hike.

I was very explicit in my expectations from the start. I wanted a short hike, not strenuous in the least. But at a certain fork in the trail, one of us said we should go left and the other of us said she didn't think so. But we went left and the trail began to gain in elevation. It hit 93 that day and it was about 10 in the morning as we hiked, so it was also on the warmer side. One of us started to feel awfully sorry for herself, pregnant, hiking on slippery rock, in the desert, on a trail she did not pick.

The other of us kept checking in with the pouting one, but she was pretty silent and crabby. Crabby enough to be analyzing her crabby attitude while living the crabby moment. She thought about how if she were with anyone else on the planet she wouldn't be this toddler-like. But somehow with the person she loved the most, she was throwing a downright silent fit. She was huffing and puffing, making absolute conclusions in her head like, "I will never hike in the desert again. It's just not my thing." But of course stopping long enough for the kind couple they met to take the happy picture above.

Eventually the trail began to go back down the little mountain and she started speaking to her husband again and by the end of the hike they even kissed and made up. And then they talked about how much better they are at quick fights, getting over it, moving on. And that's a step in the right direction. It was all very gracious of her husband, who probably had also concluded never to hike with her again in the desert.

But as it turns out, the rest of the day was nearly perfect. We had a picnic at Canyon Lake. I have said it before and I will say it again, there is no meal I love more than a picnic outdoors. Ham sandwiches and string cheese become my favorite foods in the world if eaten outside. I am a very happy girl if I am dining outside.

Then we drove to Tortilla Flats for ice cream cones and a few gift shops, and then down a very steep and narrow and curvy gravel road to Apache Lake. We were listening to my dad's John William's Greatest Hits CD and listening to Jaws while eeking around trucks coming up the hill made the adventure just that much more exciting.

The views were amazing and we ended the day eating steak and french fries in a little ghost town. It was an awesome day. I do wish I could have pulled it together for the hour of our hike that was uphill, but we'll blame it on the hormones. And that I'm human. But the day was a blast. A good 14 hour date. On the drive back I told Rory, "hey, we're fun." For four years I have already lamented my kids moving out of the house (you know, when that happens in twenty years...) But on this little adventure I realized that's going to be a fun season too. Rory and I know how to laugh and tell stories and save each other from moodiness. Twenty years from now is going to be a fun season too. 

We ended the day by going to see Cinderella. I had already seen it once, but wanted him to see it too and he was game. I love that movie so much. And Rory said he smiled through the whole thing. It's so good. I liked it as much the second time as I did the first. Oh, and I had gummy peaches, a personal favorite candy. Definitely an awesome ending to an awesome day-long date.

a personal revival

I was with a group of friends on Friday night and was telling about the prayer counseling I did this past summer. I heard about this program offered at our former church, Cedar Valley and the way this friend talked about it left me slack jawed and wanting what she had. She was free, fully herself and confident in her identity in Christ. I filled out the online form from their website and then had a consultation with the woman who runs the program. What she said at that first meeting was so new to me.

She said, "I'm going to schedule you for four sessions. Maybe five. But no more. Because all of the topics you have brought up will have one root. We don't know what that is yet, but God does, and he wants it removed so that he can fill that space. It doesn't take long for God to show how all of our troubles come from the same cause. And if we are willing and able, he is swift to pull it up and fill that space with his presence."

So I went for four sessions. And they were good and I was grateful and some big stuff was dealt with. Sessions were just an hour and easily half the time was spent in prayer. It was remarkable.

Then in the fall, Rory and I started our marriage counseling at our own church and something came up that the counselors wanted to deal with directly, just with me. I was hesitant at first, but ended up going and meeting with two women at my church for a three hour session of prayer.

And we found the root.

They had me tell my whole story, whatever parts I wanted to share, parts I thought were of importance. Unto itself, the gift of listening ears, eager to hear my story told fully was quite amazing. But even more amazing were the parts I chose to share. Things I hadn't thought about in a long, long time. The things the Holy Spirit was bringing to the surface.

They listened and we prayed and then they began to explain soul ties. That through relationship and connection, we give parts of our selves to others all throughout our lives. But this isn't actually healthy, allowing others to judge and critique us. Christ Jesus is the only one who our soul should be tied to.

My root was my need for approval and affirmation from others. I was raised in an awesome church where I was beloved by the congregation. I got strokes and affirmation constantly. And so as I moved on in life, I was still looking for those hits of approval and recognition.

Suddenly every part of the life story I had just told started to share the same theme. The professor at the seminary who wrote the hurtful words on my paper, the professor in college who used my final project as the pawn for her own inner-colleague battle. Stories of betrayal and heartache and still feeling misunderstood. All of the stories shared the same theme: I was still wanting resolution and approval from all of these people.

So slowly we began to pray, one person at a time. They helped me get started and then I used the words. We prayed first for my biggest soul tie, that in the name of Jesus we were cutting this tie. That anything this person still needed from me would be forgiven, and that the parts I had given them (ability to judge me) would be taken back and plugged back into Jesus alone.

We prayed like this for hours. I cried. I felt relief. And freedom. And peace. I had so many soul ties out there! At one point I saw myself wearing a hula skirt, all of these soul ties, dangling around my waist. And as I prayed each one tied back into Christ Jesus, my actual source for approval and affirmation. He calls me his child, he loves me without condition, he knows my sin more fully than I do, and yet he loves me with a love I can hardly fathom.

And oh, I slept like a baby that night. As Elsie would say, I slept like "a baby sister daughter." Because that's what I am in the eyes of my God.

I was thinking about all of this transformation that happened in my 33rd year. And as I drove home this past Friday night, after sharing a bit of this story with these girl friends, I realized how much God has done in my heart in one years time. I was so taken aback by all of the ground I have gained this year, while not really recognizing it at the time. And then I remembered that it was almost a year ago that I spoke at women's Bible study about praying for a personal revival. I hadn't been feeling much connection in my own faith life for a while and spoke candidly about this and that I knew the answer was to ask. To seek. To knock. To pray for a revival in my own heart.

And now, a year later, my eyes are wide open in awe and wonder. So grateful for all I have seen and learned. I have absolutely experienced a personal revival. Because this year I also have been reading through The Story with my church and discussing each chapter with our weekly small group. And the revelation and renewed belief I have gained through this time of exegetical study has been nothing short of a wonder. I am seeing the new testament come to life through the lens of the old testament and each week I am left more and more amazed at the story we are all still a part of.

I sat down to write this all tonight because earlier this evening I went to a Seder Meal at my church. For two-and-a-half hours we walked through the entire feast as a Jewish family would celebrate it. And for each prayer or practice our pastor showed in scripture how Christ has come as our true Passover lamb. The meal was holy for me, a feast of food but I also had a heart of gratitude for all the ways I have seen Christ come alive for me. The meal was a celebration of remembering my own exodus from the bondage of seeking the approval of others. To God be the Glory.

A life of faith is an interesting road. I do my part: I pray, and I can wait, and I can seek. But there is so much that happens that is without my doing a thing. It's sort of like this baby I'm carrying right now. I'm eating and sleeping, but other than that, miraculous things are happening every day in my womb and I can take no credit. A life of faith in Jesus Christ feels like that for me. I open my Bible and read God's Words, I go to church and pray for a personal revival. But it is not I who controls what He has next to teach me... or show me... or to grow in me.

I'm just now looking back on the road I have been on over the last year and I am grateful. And will be on my knees praying for another year of gentle teaching.