A Real Treasure

My astute husband scored major brownie points a few years ago when he gave me the perfect gift: a wooden, velvet-lined treasure box he lovingly filled with my favorite chocolates.
I nearly swooned.
He then told me this was my chocolate, and nobody in the house would touch it. Considering that my normal stash consisted of Ghirardelli chocolate chips in the pantry--which routinely disappeared long before I'd had my fair share--this was monumental.
My delightful treasure chest sits on a small table right next to my bedroom chair. Whenever I need a pick-me-up, a reward, some motivation, or (ahem) the nutritional, scientifically proven benefits of a chocolate boost, you'll find me poking through my treasure chest. With a smile.
The best part of my treasure chest is my hubby keeps it filled for me. That's right--I know where my chocolate is, I know it's always there, and I know it's all mine.

What more could a girl want?
Before you longingly sigh and run out to buy your own treasure chest and stuff it with your favorite chocolates (cuz you aren't getting mine), know this: Jesus is our real treasure. Though He is definitely not in a box, we know He is near, we know He is always there, and we know He's all ours.
The best part is, He always keeps us filled.
What more could any girl want?
"My whole being shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips." ~ Psalm 63:5

I Wanna Hold His Hand

Ever had one of those weeks?

After taking our daughter to the hospital's emergency room five times this week, starting physical therapy for my shoulder, dealing with a nationwide shortage of my daily medication that left even my doctor not knowing what to do, and injections in both of my wrists (for carpal tunnel), I think it's fair to say it's been a rough week. Lack of sleep, stress and juggling the unexpected have left my brain in tilt-a-whirl mode.

(I won't even mention my daughter starting high school on Monday, her fish dying on Tuesday, the pump for our well breaking on Wednesday, and a wicked little bug getting stuck in my eye for 12 hours on Thursday.)

I found myself feeling needy. Very needy.

So, I reached out my hand into the empty air next to me and simply said, "Jesus, please hold my hand."

I needed to feel His hand in mine this week. Because truly, when I'm at the end of my rope, a knot at the bottom just isn't good enough. I need a strong hand holding mine. I need His powerful hand gripping my fingers, walking with me when I'm heading where I don't want to go.

And if anyone knows about walking toward a place you'd rather not go, it's Jesus. His walk to the cross was painful, agonizing, cruel. He understands painful, hard walks.

Psalm 139:2b says, "You understands my thought afar off." I like that. There's something precious and deeply satisfying about feeling understood.

But mostly, I like the comfort of holding hands. Because it means I'm not alone.

Are you experiencing one of those weeks, too? Just reach out your hand--Jesus longs to grip it in His.

Update: Our daughter was finally admitted to the hospital - she stayed 4 days, recovering from Serum Sickness (an acute hypersensitivity reaction to antibiotics). It's been an exhausting week, but we're so grateful she is now home, where she continues to recuperate. If you breathed a prayer on her behalf, please accept my deepest thanks!

A Lesson from My Kitchen Floor

When a hefty spoonful of finely chopped veggies accidentally catapulted onto my left sandal and spilled onto the floor, I groaned. Transferring minced onions, celery and carrots out of our food processor and into a glass bowl turned out to be trickier than I thought.

Grabbing a paper towel, I knelt to scoop up the mess. That's when I noticed the sorry state of my kitchen floor.

Really sorry.

Only moments earlier it looked fine. But with my face inches away from scary goop, I gasped. What struck me is that in that position, there was no escaping the truth. Just a single glance convinced me I needed to do some deep cleaning.

Likewise, kneeling before God puts us in a position for Him to reveal the scary goop clinging to the edges of our own hearts. Things might look fine on the surface, but our hearts are depectively wicked (see Jeremiah 17:9); probably even in need of some heavy-duty scrubbing.

Kneeling is an outward sign of inner humility. It's a posture of reverent listening, as opposed to the distracted listening that qualifies as today's normal. Kneeling allows us a completely different perspective--and sometimes that's exactly what we need.

The next time I'm making pasta fagioli soup, I won't mind at all if I accidentally send food flying over the edge my kitchen's island. God knows I can always use a little more time on my knees.

Bear Trap

Are you ever tempted to hold a grudge?

Several years ago a friend's words at a party strongly upset me. Rattled, I left early and fumed the entire drive home. By the time I walked into our front door 30 minutes later, my anger was cranked to full-throttle. I stormed into our bathroom and proceeded to give my teeth a severe brushing.

When my husband innocently wandered in to the bathroom to ask how my evening had been, he hardly expected a toothpaste-flinging rant-fest. Ducking for cover, the look in his eyes told me I needed to simmer down--and pray--fast.

I gave myself several days to calm down, pray, and really think about what had happened. When I felt my attitude was finally right, I made what I hoped would be a conciliatory phone call to my friend. Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, the issue remained unresolved. I felt trapped. I wanted to make things right, but in this situation it simply wasn't possible.

Romans 12:18 says, "If possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." But what about when it's not possible? Then what?

As I prayed about the situation, God showed me a picture of a large, jagged-metal, jaw-shaped bear trap. Hunters hide bear traps beneath moss and leaves in a forest. The purpose of these dangerous traps is two-fold;

• to inflict injury


• to prevent the animal from moving forward

Holding a grudge and refusing to forgive is like getting caught in a bear trap. It's so easy to zero in on the pain of our wound instead of focusing on God, His will, and freedom. As long as the trap remains embedded in our flesh, we can't heal. And the enemy succeeds in chaining us to that place.

I forgave my friend that day, even though it wasn't easy. Who ever said forgiveness is easy?

But when we make the decision to forgive, God can begin healing our deepest, most painful hurts. Though it's not always possible to navigate around the traps that the enemy sets and hides in our lives, how quickly we’re released is always our choice.

My Prayer Room Story

Though the She Speaks conference has turned out to be the spiritual highlight of the year for me, it didn't come without a price.

There's always a cost, isn't there?

Friday night's speaker evaluation was quite possibly the most intimidating moment of my life, simply because speaking is the the last thing on earth I desire to do. Truly. When I sensed the Lord nudging me to begin speaking at the beginning of the year I thought, Surely You must be kidding. I'm a writer. I like writing; it gives me time to think, backspace, delete or just start over.

Then I thought, Maybe I'm just making up the speaking thing. Maybe I'm imagining one of those worst-case scenarios my brain seems compelled to create. Like when I'm driving over an impossibly high bridge on a freezing day and I try to figure out if I could get my window open and unbuckle my seat-belt and swim to the shore without freezing in the event my car plunges over the guard rail.

Finally, the Lord accosted convinced me while I drove one afternoon, (not over a bridge) and I surrendered, uttering a simple yet incredibly brave one-sentence prayer: Lord, if you want me to speak, please confirm it.

Two days later my laptop slid to the floor when I saw my name on Lysa TerKeurst's blog as a scholarship winner for She Speaks with this post.
But still, months later as I cried on a comfy bed after the She Speaks speaker evaluations on a Friday night in Concord, North Carolina, I couldn't help but think I do not want to speak. God, why are you making me speak? Furthermore, my body betrayed me when I did speak. I could do without the internal earthquakes and the Niagara Falls armpits, thank you very much.
My comfort zone had not only been imposed upon, it had utterly vanished.
Saturday morning found fresh tears on my cheeks. Another speaker evaluation loomed like a pistol-waving terrorist only inches from my face. After choking down a few bites of breakfast, I hurried to the prayer room for some desperately needed spiritual fortification.
And there He was. My Prince of Peace. My courage. My strength. The lover of my soul. And the One through Whom I can do all things.
A beautiful prayer warrior named Charlotte whispered, "Would you like to pray with me?" Heads bowed, hands clasped together, we prayed.
God showed Charlotte a few things, and she shared them with me. And just like that, everything changed; my perspective, my countenance and most of all, my heart. I left that prayer room equipped with His grace and His joy, which is my strength. And I suddenly realized that I was walking, with Him, toward my destiny.
How about you? Do you have a prayer room story? I'd love to hear it!

She Glows

The She Speaks conference offically surpassed my expectations.

It wasn't the excellent, informative break-out sessions.

It wasn't the truly inspiring worship led by Cheri Keaggy.

It wasn't the outstanding messages by Lysa Terkeurst, Renee Swope or Jennifer Rothschild.

It wasn't the amazing, wonderful women I met in the hallways, over a meal or at the book table, and the new friendships born as a result.

Believe it or not, it wasn't even the fantastic food.

It was that God met me there in a profound and deeply intimate, smell-your-breath close sort of way...I'm positively glowing!

And I am undone.

I'm still in digest-mode, savoring the words He has lovingly whispered to my heart...and overwhelmed by God's goodness.

I'm also overwhelmed that when I finally made it home last night (after many delays, 2 missed connections and no luggagge), our 19 year old son is suffering with a serious, painful cyst. Two years ago our son underwent 5 months of excruciating treatment to deal with this cyst, and now it has made a surprise, unwanted encore appearance. Doctor appointments and possible surgery loom in our immediate future. Would you add Josh to your prayer list this week?

I hope to post more about She Speaks later this week. And I'd love to hear from you. Tell me about your She Speaks experience!

Jennifer Rothschild's in-your-face wisdom

captivated every woman in the room.

Lisa at She Speak's final general session. Notice the light ray

streaming down. That's Renee Swope sitting on the left.

The oh-so-organized Tracy Vinson, who organized the
Early Bird dinner (which I missed, thanks to being stranded in Atlanta).

The authentic, inspiring and humble Lysa TerKeurst and me, exhausted
but filled to the brim on Saturday night. Thank you, Lysa, for blessing me with a She Speaks scholarship!

My new best friend, Kelly Hancock at Faithful Provisions. Check
out her wildly popular website and save you some money, ladies!

Please pardon the low-quality pictures - all I had was my cell phone camera.