2010 July | chatting at the sky

my vacation sky

July 10, 2010

After so many years of spending time on Hilton Head Island for our vacation, you might think I would tire of taking photos of the same things. But every year, I see things a little differently through that lens of mine. That’s the beauty of rest and creation. When you mix the two together, your eyes see better.

I had some time to stop and chat at the sky while on vacation. As much as I love our hometown with all the green and leafy trees, sometimes I miss not being able to get a good look look at the wide open sky.

There is something about being able to take in the whole thing at once that leads to a deeper understanding of who God is and the wonder of my small place in his big story.

Sometimes the view from the ground is more interesting if, instead of looking straight ahead, you simply look up.

And even though we gathered to watch the man show with all its pop and bang and razzle dazzle…

…the God show was much more impressive.

Filed Undera photographer 33 Comments

the daisy :: a guest post

July 9, 2010

photo credit

I want to be a daisy
unassuming, humble,
Willing to share my joyful face
wherever I am found.

In a prairie of grass
Unseen,
And alone,
I will tilt my face
toward the Son.

Bordered by peonies showy dresses
or the scandalous red of poppies
I’ll not be intimidated.

I won’t droop in the rain.

I will stand tall
And outlast them all.

I will pretend nothing.

I will smile

And be content to be me:
A bloom,
A delight to my Maker.

I want to be a daisy.
Washed pure white
With a heart of gold.

Kristina is a follower of Christ in pursuit of un-wavering joy. She home schools her three kids and is married to an entrepreneur. Together they ride the roller coaster of new adventures. She loves living under the open sky of rural Minnesota where every farmhouse window gives view to the glory of God. I am so glad to have Kristina here to share these few words with a big heart. To learn more about her, visit her at A Joy Walk.

Filed Underguest post 11 Comments

how the end is like the beginning

July 8, 2010

I had to force myself to cut the tag off the shorts. I don’t buy shorts anymore because I am emotionally allergic to the cellulite. You know. But I bought the shorts because, hello? we live in the South and it is hot with a capital H-O-T down here. So I bought the shorts with every intention of returning them. But then, I realized I needed them one percent more than I hated them.

But the worst part of the shorts? They are two sizes bigger than they were the last time I wore shorts. And I blame it all on the book.

I blame a lot of things on the book – my overwhelming fear of failure, my unpredictable crying fits, my dirty dishes, my lack of motivation to come up with a meal plan. And now, my two-sizes-bigger shorts. I told The Man the other day how the last nine months have been some of the most emotional of my life and it’s no wonder because, you know, the book and all. And he smiled and listened. He didn’t seem surprised at my declaration of emotional hardship and this uncovering of dormant insecurity that has been taking place. After all, my book is all about the hiding, the uncovering, and finally, the rescue. He reminded me of that, in his own way.

And then I started to cry and said maybe I don’t have my ducks in a row enough. Or maybe I’m not praying enough or quiet enough or brave enough or whatever enough. He reminded me that God doesn’t look for lined up ducks, but for the smallest bit of faith, the kind that rolls around with mustard seeds. The kind you can hardly see. Because he takes that kind of faith and does miracles with it so that nobody could look at it and say Oh, well of course she could do that because she has it so together. Have you seen her ducks?! Instead, he does things through and with people so that they will say I never could have done that on my own. I don’t even have any ducks.

This is how the end of this manuscript writing journey is a lot like the beginning. Because at the beginning, I wrote this post. And now, I’m wearing shorts and talking about ducks. This process has been bookended by crazy. Aren’t you thankful for the guest posters that are holding this place together while I am a lunatic person?

Seriously, I have three weeks until it’s due. I will be ready, even though I know all the crazy talk might say a different thing. Even with all of the insecurities that have been smoked out in this process, I am learning to embrace my frail humanity and receive grace as it is offered. Thank you for your part in the extension of that grace with your constant encouragement, prayers, and friendship. Tomorrow I’ll post a sweet poem by a new blog friend Kristina. She’s a twin and her husband is a twin too, so I automatically like her.

Filed Undera little bit crazy, a writer 51 Comments

flower patch farmgirl :: a guest post

July 7, 2010

Shannan is an ordinary girl who finds beauty in the everyday. She is the wife of a man who thinks all of her jokes are funny, and who regularly indulges her late-night, thinking-out-loud ponderings. They have three funny babies who came to them across rivers and oceans. Together, they are embarking on a fresh adventure and they are confident that God will meet them there. To learn more about Shannan and her brood, visit her at Flower Patch Farmgirl.

I have always been drawn to stories of craggy farmers with their industrious wives at their sides. I’ve come to know them quite well. They are suntanned and serious, eyes fixed to the horizon, sniffing the air for rain. Always overalls, always apron. They are church-going, but with faith that runs deeper than the pond waters of their rebirth. Their foreheads are lined as much from heartache as from years. This is what I decided, as I plucked from the shelves, again and again, a novel with a white farmhouse on the cover.

I turned the pages and I sewed those seeds vicariously, longing for an apron and a tin of Gardener’s salve of my own.

I turned the years, and found myself living in a white farmhouse, with a slice of acreage just begging to be tilled.

Sod gave way to chocolate cake earth. Rows were staked. Hope was sewn.

We waited, brim-filled with expectation.

And then, I fell in love. With the beans and the Brandywines, of course; but also, with the weeds. Ever-persistent, they forged green. Ever-persistent, I plucked. With each pinch, my soul settled. Things made more sense. My mind exhaled. It was up to me to protect my seedlings. I was dutiful, even without the apron.

As that first summer became the second, then the third, my confidence grew. I dreamed of ranunculus – that dreamy combination of symmetrical and ruffled and cotton-candy colored, with the occasional willy-nilly stem. I balled up hope and tossed it into the sky as hard as I could. I whispered practice condolences to myself, “It’s ok if they don’t grow” and “Even if they don’t bloom, as least the leaves are pretty!”

And then.

The blooms arrived and the Sugar Snaps clapped and the spinach bowed and the honeybees delighted. My heart ached, in the best kind of way, to see the tight-fisted buds of lemon meringue and watermelon sherbet.

I set out to clear the intrusive green, always knocking, knocking still. I plucked and I dreamed. I considered what it took for them to become what they were meant to be: dirt diet, perpetual rain, sun scorching. But beauty can be hard-won, and hard-won beauty is lasting, and lasting beauty is really the only kind that matters.

My fingernails packed tight with grit, I considered the woman I have always wanted to be. It turns out it’s not the fictitious farmer’s wife with the sun bonnet and the sensible shoes. It turns out, the woman I want to be is the one who knows all the way into her heart and back out the other side that the only life worth living is the one that was decided from the Beginning. So, let the sun burn me a bit. Let the drops fall. I have learned first-hand what it means to grow. I know for a fact that there is One very near to me watching, protecting, cheering me on.

Any day now, the fuzzy claws will unfurl rows of ruffled deliciousness and we’ll host a ticker-tape parade fit for a garden queen.

I will look to the horizon and my heart will beat one less with the thought of what might lie in wait. And I will know it’s sure to be good.

“The Sugar Snaps clapped!” Y’all, I’m in love with this girl and her writing. I am blessed to have her here today, even if she does put my just-learning-to-grow-things self to shame. Her home is lovely, her photos are beautiful, and her writing is laced with humor and charm. Please welcome her and visit her at Flower Patch Farmgirl.

Filed Underguest post 21 Comments

living on a tuesday

July 5, 2010

There is a time to live life and then there is a time to write about it. Lately, I’ve been doing some living and it has been nice. It makes the writing flow more quickly when the time for writing comes. I have taken a short break from the writing for a week or so to live a little, and it has been refreshing.These are some of the girls in my small group. That’s me, in the middle. They are rising 10th graders and I love them to bits and pieces. I am still learning them, the way they see God, the world, each other, and me. Because who am I kidding, I totally want them to like me. It’s funny how high school girls bring out my high school girl. They are smiles and youth and questions and silly all wrapped up into one beautifully dramatic package. They are gifts, each one.

Is there a person in your life who is a gift to you today? Is there a moment you would like to unwrap here with us? The guidelines for Tuesdays Unwrapped are here. In summary, link up with the permalink to your unwrapped post, or your link will be deleted. I would also ask, as a courtesy, that you would please link back here to Chatting at the Sky by either using the button or a text link somewhere in your post. Thank you.

Filed UnderTuesdays Unwrapped, youth ministry 20 Comments

practicing rest with ice cream

July 3, 2010

I have so enjoyed the writers who have been guest posting over the past few weeks. Aren’t they fantastic? I have more to come in the next few weeks and I am ever so grateful for them. Their writing this week has enabled me to practice rest with my family. It takes effort and purpose to turn off the mind of worry and anxiety, to close the door on the running to-do’s and to simply decide to be together. I am thankful for this freedom weekend to do just that. And now it’s time for a random question:

When you eat mint chocolate chip ice cream, do you like it white or green?

Filed Undera girl 40 Comments

the gift :: a guest post

July 1, 2010

The following is a guest post by Kelly Langner Sauer. To learn more about Kelly, see below.

There is a new side to me from which I’ve been living in recent weeks. It hails from some new-healed place in my heart I didn’t know existed. I want to call it confidence, and indeed, it is. But it is not simply “confidence.” It is love. A “being loved.” An “I know that who I am has a place in someone’s heart.” It says “who I am is beautiful” and “I don’t have to measure up.”

I told someone once that I wouldn’t believe I was beautiful until I heard it from a man who loved me. I figured at the time this one who would make me beautiful would be my husband. I was half-begging anyone to love me then.

As it turned out, it wasn’t my husband. I got married, and I still didn’t believe it. Because you see, husbands have to say we’re pretty. You know. Like they have to tell us we’re not fat. (Which of us really believes them when they tell us that?) My poor husband completely believed I was beautiful. And he told me so. And I completely didn’t believe him.

He told me he loved me too. And I acknowledged that, like I acknowledged that God loved me. Of course he loved me. He married me. Of course God loved me. He sent Jesus for me.

But I didn’t believe it. Not really. Not deep down.

.

A couple years ago, I received a comment from Amber Haines. Emily had roomed with her at Blissdom that year, and I guess they had been sharing links and friends.

“Emily said you have an amazing blog,” she said – or something to that effect.

All I read was “Emily said.”

She had noticed me. Me, puttering away and not thinking about too much and thinking about way too much at my blog. I straightened up a little. Realized that there was someone reading my words. Someone thought I mattered, enough to recommend me to someone else as cool as Amber.

.

Someone else thought I mattered too. Someone whose heart for me caused Him to take on my dust, walk around in it, die condemned in my place.

I didn’t know how He loved me. I was still waiting for the “I love you” to be real enough to make me believe it. Then, “while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

While I was what I was, while I was where I was, before I was ever born to become the mess that I’d be, God noticed me. He’d created me in His image for His glory; for that alone, my dust was worth redemption.

He had noticed me.

.

I don’t think Emily meant to be Jesus to me. I don’t think she knew when she shared my blog around that I was one of “the least of these.” But her gift opened my eyes to God’s gift, the Jesus I now dare to speak without shame. He spoke His love over me, and He spoke deep into heart-wounds that said love could die.

I’ve got news. It can’t. It doesn’t.

Because He who is Love died already, once for all. “Who I am” was no longer condemned. “It is finished,” He said.

And He doesn’t have to say “I love you.”

…..

Kelly is a talented writer and photographer, wife and mama. She sees, not only with her eyes, but with heart and spirit. She writes about the invisible grit, the soul parts that we feel but can’t see. And she does so with grace, honesty, and whispered words of faith. I’ve not yet met her in real life, but I hope to one day soon. She is a gift to me. Visit her at A Restless Heart or at KellyLangnerSauer{dot}com. You’ll see what I mean.

Filed Undera friend, guest post 18 Comments