Whooo Are You?

When I was a little girl Alice in Wonderland was one of my favorite movies. It’s not surprising… for a girl with an imagination that liked to run wild.

When I found out they were making a new Alice movie I started counting the days. Finally opening day came and I headed to the theatre.

As the movie opens we find that Alice is all grown up. But strangely, magically, she finds herself back in Wonderland, only she doesn’t remember it. Doesn’t remember the Tweedles, the Rabbit, or the Red Queen. And even more disheartening… Alice doesn’t remember who she is.

But the others do… Hatter, the March Hair, Chess… they all remember her. And as they try to tell Alice who she is and why they needed her to return to Wonderland she adamantly denies that she is the girl they seek.

Fortunately for the little girl in me, Alice eventually remembers Whooo she is. She remembers the brave girl with the unquenchable curiosity. She remembers her friends, and her love for them. She remembers the Jaberwocky, the sword, and the power she has to slay the dragon. She remembers that she’s not the girl who fits in the mold. She’s the girl who stands out in the crowd. Who has crazy dreams. And who lives life with passion.

Lately I’ve found myself whispering the question “Who am I?” The world would like to tell me who I am. What mold I’m supposed to fit in. How I’m supposed to act. What I’m supposed to wear. What I’m supposed to say. And, like Alice, I’ve followed the world’s rules. Tried to fit in, not cause a scene.

But the whispering won’t go away… like Absolom whispering to Alice… God is whispering to me “Whooo are you?”

And I remembered… I’m the little girl who loves a good story. I’m the curious soul who loves to explore. I’m the dreamer who believes the impossible. I’m the brave one who loves to dance in the rain. I’m the daughter of the King, the princess in disguise.

I am Alice. And that Jaberwocky better hide.

I'd love to know... Whooo are you?

Go Play!

Today I had the chance to do two of my favorite things… I went to lunch with my girlfriends, and I sat quietly surrounded by nature and poured my heart out on paper.

Too often I neglect the things that bring me joy.

But today I am thankful that I made time. Time to laugh. Time to connect with friend. Time to be quiet. Time to listen to God.

I know that when I get up from this computer there will be many things waiting to pull me in many different directions. Good things. But things that will stretch me. Demand energy of me. Things like thawing chicken, helping with homework, sorting whites and adding bleach, balancing check books, and feeding pets.

The “have to’s” of my day.

Most days I dread the “have to’s”. Most days I feel stretched too thin, like I have nothing left to give.

Today I feel full. Energized. Ready to tackle my list.

Why? Because I stopped. I made time for peace. I made time for joy.

What brings you joy? What fills your heart and gives you energy?

Is it journaling? Scrapbooking? A quiet walk? Talking to a girlfriend? Bubble bath? Crafts?

When was the last time you made time for what makes you smile?

What’s stopping you from making time today?

Go play!

Home

Well I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old,

So I'm going home.

Daughtry, Home

Home is sitting at the foot of the cross

Home is wrapped in my husband’s arms.

Home is Uno Flash at the dining room table.

Home is good night hugs, and whispered prayers.

Home is bubble baths with a brand new book.

Home is quiet worship in deep woods.

Home is tickle fights and Wii bowling.

Home is weeding flower beds.

Home is licking batter from bowls.

Home is fresh paper and my favorite pen.

Home is quiet coffee houses with favorite friends.

Home is head on pillow, Bible in hand.

Home is where His love is enough.

I don’t regret this life I’ve chose. But at times it’s draining. At times 4am gets old. At times I miss home. At times the business of life robs me of the simple joys of life. But, I’m going home. I’m taking time.

I’m going home to find refuge. To find strength. To find joy. Home refreshes and renews. Home equips us to live our life with no regrets.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. learn the unforced rhythms of grace. Mathew 11:28-29 The Message

I’m going home.

Salvation is Calling

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why are you troubled, O my heart?

Why are you fearful of winds and waves,

Of darkness and night?

Have you forgotten joy?

Have you misplaced peace?

Have you abandoned faith?

Lift up your head! Lift up your eyes!

Do you see Him?

Sleeping in the boat with you.

Put your hope in Him!

He is your refuge in the storm.

Look as He wakes.

Listen as He speaks.

Marvel as the wind obeys.

Rest in the peace He brings.

Fear not, sweet child.

For He has redeemed you.

He calls you by name.

He knows just where you are.

He will not abandon you

In the depths of the sea.

He will not leave you

In the raging fire.

Lift up your face.

Look to Him.

Salvation is calling.

Love waits for you.

But now, this is what the LORD says-- he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior… Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you… Do not be afraid, for I am with you… Isa. 43

Restless

I’m pretty good at juggling. Always have been. I’m not sure if it’s just part of my nature, or if it’s something I developed after having 4 kids, a job, and ministry. Regardless, it’s a fact. But the last week the juggling that is usually a joy has become a strain. I feel like at any minute I’m going to make one wrong move and drop everything. And it’s stressing me out.

I can always tell when I’m overly stressed because I find myself clinging to my lifeline of music. I’ve always said life should be a musical, but in the trenches music moves from the background to the forefront. Friday God sent me a song. It’s beautiful, peaceful, full of hope!

Yet this morning I realized that there’s a big difference between a song and a musical. Songs are sung, musicals are acted out. And if I really want my life to be a musical then it’s time to put on my dancing shoes and put some action behind the words. It’s not enough to sing of resting in Him. I. Must. Rest. In. Him!

So today that is my goal. To stop juggeling long enough to rest. To find peace again.

Are you restless? Tired? Weary? If so I’d love to share my song with you…

Restless by Audrey Assad

Our praises filling up the spaces

In between the frailty and everything You are

You are the keeper of my heart

And I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

Oh God, I wanna rest in You

Oh, speak now for my soul is listening

Say that You have saved me, whisper in the dark

‘Cause I know You’re more than my salvation

Without You I am hopeless, tell me who You are

You are keeper of my heart

And I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I wanna rest in You

Still me heart

Hold me close

Let me hear a still small voice

Let it grow

Let it rise

Into a shout

Into a cry

And I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

I’m restless, I’m restless

‘Till I rest in You, ‘till I rest in You

Oh God, I will rest in You

Lift Up Your Face

Today I am weak.

Yesterday I fell.

Tiredness. Temptation. Testing.

Arrows from many directions sailed toward me. And for a moment, I dropped my shield and my heart was pierced.

Angry words.

Cold stares.

A sleepless night.

Morning came. And with it regret. Guilt. Sadness. Confession. Repentance. Forgiveness. Acceptance.

The cycle of life.

I desperately wish I wouldn’t fall. Wouldn’t speak angry words to innocent hearts. Wouldn’t let weakness cause my words to sting.

But it is here… in brokenness that I realize how much I need Him. How horribly things go wrong when I forget to depend on His strength.

And here… in my weakness He sings to me.

Joy Comes in the Morning

The preverbal straw that broke the camel’s back showed up last night. It’s silly really. This little thing that went wrong. But it’s the last in a string of bigger things that have gone wrong this week. I feel like I somehow have stuck a stick in Satan’s hornets’ nest… and they’re after me.

Then this morning I log on to Facebook to see that I’ve been tagged in a note from a sweet friend who is also being chased by a swarm of hornets.

Her take on life?

Be thankful.

Ouch. I’m telling you, reading her list of blessings my pity party came to a screeching halt. Conviction wrapped its loving fingers around my heart, and I knew… I knew that God would not be honored in my whining. He would not be glorified in my complaining. I knew that my response to any situation could only be praise.

So without further ado…

Today I am thankful for notes from friends that remind me of a gracious God. The perfect song at the perfect moment. Friends who know the deep dark secrets, and love me anyway. My sweet boy when he wraps his arms around me. Blue skies and white puffy clouds. Sprinklers and green grass. Teenage girls who are more concerned with their reputation with God than their reputation with their peers. A youth pastor who loves unconditionally and pushes students out of their comfort zones. Comfy pjs. Borrowing shoes from my daughters. My super-styling minivan (with the window that won’t roll up). Guacamole. Hagen-Dazs Dulce de Leche. Girls Night out. Mommas that didn’t birth me, but love me like they did. High school sweethearts that still love you when you’re all grown up. A job that matters. Facebook. Words. A good book. A king size bed that holds one mom and three daughters. Intimate conversations between said mom and daughters on said king size bed. Church. Pot lucks. (seems appropriate that they be together) My iPhone. Thunderstorms. Lakes. Woods. Peace and quiet. Libraries. Long hot baths where no one knocks on the door. Opening my Bible and finding comfort, every time. Texting. Teenagers. (those two go together as well) Theatre. Musicals. Sonic’s happy hour. Suffering with hope. Never knowing oppression, hunger, or war. Pedicures. Journals and the perfect pen. Blogs. Knowing He loves me, even when I’m acting crazy. Knowing that He knew. Before I drew my first breath, He knew me. He had a plan for me. He called me and anointed me. Knowing that suffering may come… but joy always follows.

"What ifs" and "you can’ts" are terrible things. They hold me hostage. Mock me.

What if I fail?

You can’t forget.

What if they laugh?

You can’t forgive.

They dig up my past and paralyze my today.

But what if I were free?

What would that look like?

What would that feel like?

Thinking about freedom brings to mind…

Little girls in spinning skirts.

Giggles. Dreams.

Cries of “push me higher” and “hold me daddy”.

Joy. Wonder.

Starry nights. Fairies and frogs.

Books under blankets.

Whispered secrets.

Buttered popcorn fingers. Sweet fizzy soda.

Popping gum and hopping scotch.

Prince Charming. White horses.

Castles. Queens.

Bedtime kisses and bedbugs.

Bare feet in the grass.

Ladybugs and fireflies.

Best friends.

Baby dolls.

Dancing. Skipping. Twirling.

Innocence.

But innocence has been lost. Childhood has been stolen. And the little girl’s dreams turned to nightmares along the way.

But what if…

What if innocence could be restored?

What if what was stolen could be returned?

What if nightmares turned to dreams?

What if Prince Charming was real?

I’ll tell you a secret… He is!

When you were a child, I loved you. I took you by the arm and taught you to walk. I led you with kindness and with love. But you rejected me. War visited you.

But I cannot let you go. I cannot give you up. My feelings for you are much too strong. I will heal you and love you without limit. I will be like the dew—then you will blossom like the lilies and have roots like a tree. I will lure you into the desert and speak gently to you. From that day on you will call me your husband. (from Hosea)

We’ve been locked in a tower. Our only company our fears. But there is a Prince. There is a knight in shining armor riding in on his white horse to save the day. He longs to rescue us. To redeem us.

To set us free.

Innocence restored. Dreams renewed. Princesses crowned.

Go ahead… twirl away!

Keep Out

Lately I’ve noticed something in my heart that bothers me. It’s this innate reaction to keep people out. What is that causes me to put up a “No Trespassing” sign on my life?

In theory, I love people. And, in theory, I desire to be used by God to love people. But in reality, I shut the world out. I close the blinds. Don’t answer the phone. Look the other way.

Why?

Because I am afraid.

I’m afraid of meddling. Of butting my nose in where it doesn’t belong.

I’m afraid of not having the answers. Of being overwhelmed with the depravity of deep wounds.

I’m afraid of letting you down. Of letting you see my mess.

I’m afraid that I’m not good enough.

But then I read of one who wasn’t afraid. And one who was.

Jesus had no fear. He also had no walls. He loved people. Touched people. Meddled in their business.

Then there was Peter. He was afraid. He denied Christ. He ran away and hid.

And yet… Jesus called Peter. He sought him out. He appointed him as one to carry Hope into a Hopeless world.

And he did.

The man who denied Christ on the eve of his death, is the same man who proclaimed Christ on the day of Pentecost. The man who was quick to draw his sword in the Garden of Gethsemane is the same man who proclaimed to the cripple “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”

And therein lies my problem. My focus is on what I don’t have. And I easily forget what I do have.

I don’t have wealth. I don’t have a clean kitchen. I don’t have the right words. I don’t have it all together.

But I do have Hope. I do have Peace. I do have Life.

A few years ago God called me, like Peter, to proclaim the Good News. In fear my heart clung to Jeremiah 1:5-9. Today I was reminded of those words.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,

Before you were born I set you apart.”

“Ah, Sovereign Lord” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am only a child.”

But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a child’. You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you” declares the Lord.

Then the Lord reached out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me, “Now, I have put my words in your mouth.”

The Lord says to me today…

Do not say,

I am afraid

I’m not good enough

I do not have

You must go. You must speak.

But don’t be afraid. You don’t walk alone.

I will rescue you. I will put my words in your mouth.

Tear down the “Keep Out” signs. Unlock the door to your life.

I know you. I set you apart.

Now… go!

I am a slinky...

OK, not really. But I’m aspiring to be a slinky. That is my goal. Right now I’m more like a Jenga tower.

This confuses you? Me too. Allow me to (attempt to) explain through pictures!

My life is like Jenga pieces:

Each block represents a different piece of my life. There is my public life. My private life. My life as a mom. My life as a wife. My life as a girl who gets irritated and wants to say mean things to the checker at the grocery store. My life as an aspiring writer. My life as a speaker/teacher. My life as a worshiper. My life as a housewife/maid/cook…. As you can see there are many pieces of me. For a while now I’ve spent lots of time and energy trying to figure out which part of me fits into which block. Does the funny interaction with the kids get filed under “mom” only? Or can it also be filed under “radio host” or “blogger”? And how do I make sure that the irritable girl never gets filed under “public life” or “worshiper”. I tell you its exhausting trying to keep everything categorized.

Lately I’ve been feeling like it’s time to bridge the gap between “public” and “private”. After all, I keep praying for God to allow my life to be effective. And how can I be effective for His kingdom if I’m worried about categorizing my life and filtering every part of me. So, I thought maybe I should build a tower.

I attempted to stack the pieces up. Instead of being spread out everywhere and trying to keep certain things “separate” I tried to bring everything together into one cohesive unit. There’s only one problem with stacking blocks. Especially when someone as clumsy as me is involved.

Inevitably, something will happen to upset the delicate balance of block stacking.

And when that happens…

You’re left with a big mess.

So maybe the tower isn’t such a good idea after all.

Thankfully God likes to send people into my life that are smarter than me. Recently I had an amazing conversation with someone who told me that God wanted me to be a…

That’s right a slinky.

Here’s the thing with slinkys.

They are made up of many parts:

But they are all connected:

Slinkys aren’t fragile.

You can stretch them:

Twist them:

And hold them:

You can even drop them:

And they’ll always bounce back.

Slinkys are fluid:

In motion:

Always changing.

Yet staying the same.

This is my slinky. It sits on my desk. Surrounded by pieces of me. My computer, my family, my calendar, my memory verse. It sits there as a reminder. A reminder of who God made me to be.

A multi-layered, transparent, flexible, fun, and whole woman.

My name is Keri. And I am a slinky.

Wanna play?

Something to Wear

Have you ever worn a jacket that doesn’t quite fit? Maybe the sleeves are too short, the shoulders too tight or the length just not right? I have. And I tell you, I turn into a fidgety mess. Pulling and tugging hoping that it will feel right if I adjust it enough.

Joy is like that for me.

It fits, but not quite right. It’s awkward, uncomfortable. But it looks good. When I go out I like to wear it. It makes others more at ease. But when given the chance I slip off Joy and hang it back in the closet. Then I slip into something a little more comfortable.

I wish this wasn’t so. I wish slipping into Joy was like slipping into my favorite pair of jeans.

I’ve tried to excuse it away. I’m a deep thinker, a ponderer, a reflector, a lover of stories and thus pain and sorrow are natural friends. I hold them close. Snuggle in them like a warm soft sweater on a crisp fall day.

But then I read of Jesus. Of Joy in suffering. Of Joy in pain. And I wonder… where can I buy this Joy?

Maybe it’s like a new pair of shoes. Maybe I just need to break it in. Wear it for a while. Maybe, then it will feel less foreign, more like me.

You May Say I'm a Dreamer

I have big dreams.

Big scary dreams.

Always have. Years ago a friend said I reminded her of Joseph. A dreamer who is often misunderstood. For a while I had Gen. 37:19 (Here comes that dreamer) tacked to my computer. I’ve lost the post-it note with the scripture on it, but I haven’t lost the dreams.

They’re still there.

Lately my dreams have felt like sand. Big and vast yet slipping through my fingers. I feel like I can’t grab hold of anything. Like the harder I try to hold on to it the more it slips away. It’s exhausting, this grasping at sand. I’m working myself into a frenzy trying to fill my bucket.

But dreams weren’t meant to be carried in buckets. Dreams are meant to carry us. They are the path we walk upon.

The Wild Ride

I LOVE roller coasters! I’m an official roller coaster junkie. We have actually planned vacations around new roller coasters. It’s sad really.

But there’s this moment…. you know the one I’m talking about. The moment between securing your seat belt and the first drop. It’s the giant climb up the GIANT hill. As the coaster click, click, clicks its way to the top of the hill I have me a “come to Jesus moment”. And it’s not a quiet, in my heart moment. No, this girl is making sure everyone strapped in with me is ready to meet their maker.

I don’t get it. I wait happily in line for hours. Grin from ear to ear when they strap me in. Then completely panic as we approach the crest of the first big hill. Every time I ride a coaster I have a moment of sheer panic where I am convinced that I. AM. GOING. TO. DIE!!!

I know it’s not true. I know that I’m not actually going to die. In fact I know that in about 3.2 seconds I’ll be having the time of my life. But I can’t help it. I can’t stop the panic from gripping my heart.

And right now, sitting at my perfectly safe desk in my perfectly safe office, I feel that panic. I can hear the click, click, click. I can feel the steady chug of the coaster pulling me to the crest of the hill. I feel the slight breeze, hear the nervous chatter, and see the clouds getting closer. In my heart the ride is just about to begin. And I am literally, physically trembling with anticipation.

I know it will be one wild ride. But, man, I’m sweating it.

Dear Miley, Rihanna, and Christina,

I’ve noticed a change in each of you recently. I’m pretty sure it was intentional. Freshening up your image as you release your new albums. And I have to say, you’ve each produced some high quality, creative music. You are all very talented.

I wonder though, why the need to change your image? Why the need to change lyrics from your former creative expressions to line upon line of sexual innuendos? Who told you that in order to sell records you need not be only talented but also a “sex symbol”? Why the sudden plunge into this world of "less is more" and "everything in excess"?

Do you not know that you are of infinite value? Has no one ever told you that you are loveable, not as an object, but as a woman? Haven’t you heard that you can be strong, and beautiful, and talented without selling out?

And yes, I truly believe that the new sexy image you have created is selling out. I’m disappointed that I have to explain your behavior to my daughters. They looked up to you. They admired you. But now you have joined your voice to the countless other voices shouting to our girls that women are not to be honored and cherished, but that we are objects to be lusted after, used and discarded.

And it breaks my heart… it breaks my heart to see you trying so hard, when you needn’t try at all. Some have said that you are young women trying to “find yourself”. I understand that. I too have traveled that road. I pray that you find what you are looking for. I have a sneaking suspicion that if you ever do find the peace that currently eludes you that it won’t be found in your fame, but in your value. And not your value as an artist, or a sex symbol. But in your value as a beautiful, loved, child of God.

Because under the makeup, extensions, and high heels… that is who you really are.

~Keri

The Time In Between

Francesca Battistelli writes:

Don’t take much for this crazy world
To rob me of my peace
And the enemy of my soul
Says You’re holding out on me
So I stand here lifting empty hands
For you to fill me up again

But it’s the time in between
That I fall down to my knees
Waiting on what You’ll bring
And the things that I can’t see
I know my song’s incomplete
Still I’ll sing in the time in between

I feel like this is where I am living right now. In the time in between. It’s a season of transition. Of change. Of sifting sand. My footsteps are unstable. The path before me dim.

It’s tempting to look back and cling to what was. It’s scary to look forward and anticipate what will be. So I wait, in between. Sometimes scared. Sometimes filled with wonder. Sometimes anxious. Sometimes at peace.

I know that this time, this in between time, is important. I know that it’s not about rushing to the “next thing”. I know that there is purpose for the grey space between the leaving and the arriving. This twilight of the soul, where darkness recedes and light begins to fill the sky.

Here I know that sunrise is inevitable. Here I know that morning will come.

Yet I linger. In the soft light of in between. Hushed and silent. Listening. Watching. Waiting.

Thankful, for the time in between.

... You can listen to Francesca's The Time In Between here.

All in the Family

Confession…. When it comes to the “family of God” I’ve always felt like an outsider. Like I don’t really belong. Almost like an illegitimate child.

I’ve always been envious of those with a deep heritage of faith. Those whose parents & grandparents served the Lord. Those that were born into the family of God.

See, I wasn’t born into God’s family. My parents & grandparents didn’t raise me in church. I joined the family later in life. And unlike those born in, I’ve always felt like I haven’t quite earned my place just yet.

But I realized something this week… no one can be born into God’s family.

Hear me out.

We are all illegitimate children. Whether we were raised by alcoholics or preachers, we are all separated from God. We are all born into sin. And the only way that any of us can become part of God’s family is through adoption.

Joining God’s family is not through birth, but through choice. We must choose to allow Him to be our Father. He must choose to accept us as His child.

Do you realize what that means?

That means that I am just as loved as the pastor who stands behind the pulpit and preaches in the shadow of his father, and his father’s father. I am just as wanted as the missionary kid born in a remote village on the other side of the world. I am just as much His as the little girl who prayed to receive Christ while still too young to remember life without Him.

I am His. Not because of my parents’ faith. But because He picked me! He saw me, alone and orphaned, stuck in my sin, and he signed the papers and paid the price to make me His.

It’s just the way He does things… for each and every one of us. Regardless of our pedigree or our parents. Being born into a family that serves Christ doesn’t guarantee our place at His table; and being born into a family that doesn’t serve Christ doesn’t exclude us from becoming His.

Whether we were born in a palace or a pit we must all choose. And once the choice is made, we are His. Equally, fully, completely… Praise God!

“Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes. God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure. So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son. He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins.” Eph. 1:4-7

I'd like to take 2/3 of married women out for coffee...

so we can have a little chat.

I found an article this morning. It has me good and mad. I was hoping to simmer down, but I haven’t yet.

Here’s some statistics from the article that have me all in a tizzy!

• 62% of women admit to fantasizing about having sex with someone other than their spouse, while one in ten has already done so
  
• 2/3 of married women would rather read a book, watch a movie, or take a nap rather than make love to their spouse

Let me get this straight… we’d rather read than make love to our spouse, but if Mr. Perfect were available we’d find the energy for him. Is it just me, or is this crazy?

Don’t get me wrong… I’m guilty. That book is quite appealing after a long crazy day. And temptation is something we will always wrestle with. Which is why it’s so important to deal with our run away thoughts. But the truth is; sex is important to our marriages.

Yes it can become a routine; yes we can be overwhelmed and not have the energy for it. But, ladies, if we’re going to invest our time and energy into something shouldn’t it be the guy we chose to love for eternity?

Fantasizing about Mr. Perfect isn’t going to strengthen our marriages. And for the record, the only difference between Mr. Perfect and your hubby is that he doesn’t live with you. Trust me the super sweet, compassionate guy at work or the gym or in the movie leaves his dirty underwear on the floor too.

There is no such thing as the perfect guy. One who will magically make your heart sing and all the cares of this world disappear. No, relationships don’t work like that. They take work. Lots and lots of hard, selfless, painful work. But it’s sooo worth it.

I love books. Really. I do. I collect them, treasure them, devour them. But sometimes, most of the time, the book needs to take a backseat to my lover.

Fantasy is so overrated. But a marriage that is filled with passion, now that’s something worth investing in.

Book Review~ Thin Places

I'm too tired to think, much less blog. But I did just finish an amazing book that everyone needs to read.

I love to read! Books are treasured friends. And to be honest, I fall in love with most every book I read. So I'm a Publishers dream reviewer! :o)

But then there is the rare gem. The book that captivates you from page 1 and leaves you better than it found you. It's a book that doesn't leave your heart once you've finished it's pages.

"Thin Places" is one of those books.

Mary Demuth is an author, speaker, wife and mom. Her parenting books are perfect for any first generation Christian parents trying to find God's way in this crazy world. But the majority of her books are novels. Artfully written, compelling novels. This book is different. It is her memoir. Her story, in her words.

And let me tell you.... this lady has a heck of a story to tell. Abused, neglected, and lost Mary reaches back into the thin places of her childhood to search for the fingerprints of a Holy God in the midst of a tragic series of events.

If you've ever suffered. If you've ever questioned why circumstances happened to you, you need to read this book! I promise you will find healing for your soul from a girl who has "been there"!

If you read it I'd love to hear your thoughts! I hope it is as powerful for you as it was for me!

Details:

Mary's web-site: http://www.marydemuth.com/index.php

Thin Places preview: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LImEJ8om2qo&feature=player_embedded

A Letter

We found an interesting question that we plan to use tomorrow morning as a fun conversation starter. It’s supposed to be lighthearted, but somewhat serious. The question is:

If you could travel back in time to when you were five years old to impart a single message to yourself that would enrich your life what would it be?

My short, fun answer would be: invest in Google. But I have a hard time with short and fun. I’m more of a “ponder till you find depth” kinda girl. So, my entire afternoon has been filled with thoughts. Permit me to write them down in letter form. Call it cheap therapy.

Dear 5 year old Keri,

Life is pretty good for you right now. You are deeply cherished by your family. Life is fun and carefree. But it won’t always be that way.

In about 10 years your family will disintegrate. It will be sudden, unexpected, and ugly. Instead of processing the destruction of your parent’s marriage, you will pretend that nothing happened. You’ll stuff your feelings, and put on a smile. This is the beginning of a habit that will stick with you into adulthood.

High school will pretty much suck. You’re dad’s drinking will get worse, your mom will be absent, and your brother will need you to take care of him. You’ll have to grow up really fast. And you will. You will step up and take care of the men in your life.

It’s not all bad though. While home life may be a mess, you do meet someone to help you. Jesus. You know all those questions you have about life and meaning? Well, Jesus is the answer. And when you finally meet Him... it will all make sense.

Another good thing happens in High School. You’ll meet someone and fall in love. Shortly after High School you will marry him. And you will be given ample opportunity to put those marriage vows to the test. There will be a lot of “worse” before there is a glimmer of “better”. You will push him away, afraid that he too will abandon you. Things will get really dark. So dark that you’ll want to give up. But don’t! Because one day you will find the light again. And something amazing will happen. You’ll discover a love that you never thought possible. A love that you’ve only read about in cheesy romance novels. One day you’ll quit pretending that you have a wonderful marriage, because you will actually have one.

You know all those things that you’re afraid of? Those things that keep you from sleeping at night? Most of them will never happen. Some will. You’ll lose your Noni to cancer. And you’ll miss her. You’ll miss her more than you can imagine. You’ll be broke. You’ll bounce checks. You’ll lose a job or two. You’ll be in a few car wrecks (your biggest fear at five). But you’ll survive it all. You’ll sit beside hospital beds of loved ones, stand beside graves, and wonder where God is. You’ll lose friends. You’ll be a crappy friend. But through it all, you will grow.

I wish I could tell you not to worry so much about what others think. You’ll waste a lot of time trying to make your parents proud. The truth is, for many years they’ll be too wrapped up in their own pain to even notice you. But they’ll come around. And they will one day tell you all the things you’re longing to hear. And those girls, the ones with flat tummies and perfect hair. Well, you’ll forget all about them. Those boys that look through you and the nights without dates, you’ll treasure those times. It’s the boys you’ll cling to to find your worth that you’ll regret.

Friends will be few and far between. The pattern you start in High School of keeping people at arm’s length will continue for many years. As a defense mechanism you’ll lock your heart up in a fortress, and you’ll push a lot of people away. But there will be a few who stick around. A few that will see through the pain enough to love you, in spite of you. Hold on to them. Trust them with your heart.

They’ll be good times too. You’ll get to be a momma. And it’s even better than you think it will be. You’ll get the “happily ever after”. Only it won’t look like what you think it will. It won’t be a perfect life. There will be no wealth, no picket fence, no elaborate vacations. But it will be a full life. Full of meaning, and joy, and love. Full of life. And it will be beautiful.

I’ve learned something recently about beauty. In the absence of the ugliness of life beauty is simply common. It is nothing to behold. It will not inspire you or take your breath away. But in the presence of lack, in the midst of the dark, ugly places in life... beauty is glorious. It is magical.
So I say to you, precious girl. Don’t hide your eyes from the darkness. Don’t try to avoid the things you fear. Because God will see you through and it will all be worth it one day.

Love,
Keri

Inspire Me

I’m an information junkie. Always have been. I love to read and do research. I follow countless blogs, subscribe to too many podcasts, read magazines while waiting in line, keep a dictionary and thesaurus next to the bed…. It’s official, I’m a nerd.

Case in point…

Lately I’ve been wrestling with “information” verses “inspiration”. In true nerdy fashion I grabbed the dictionary.

Information- knowledge gained through study, communication, research, instruction, etc.; factual data; to supply oneself with knowledge of a matter or subject

Inspiration- to produce or arouse a feeling, thought, etc.; to influence; to animate; to guide or control by divine influence; to prompt or instigate utterances, acts, etc. by influence; to give rise to, bring about, cause; to breathe into or upon

It’s a lot easier to get information than to get inspiration. To get information I need only open a book, click on Google, listen to a podcast. I can gain knowledge while busy, distracted, or tired. I don’t have to plan for it. I don’t have to put much effort into it.

Inspiration, on the other hand, is a lot harder to come by. You can’t just decide to be inspired. You have to pursue it. Make time for it. For me it usually involves turning off computers, turning on some great music, and searching out beauty. Inspiration comes in moments of solitude. It comes in places filled with wonder.

Information awakens my mind.

Inspiration awakens my soul.

I long to be inspired.