Live Out Loud

     Have you noticed? It's hip to be an introvert these days. Online quizzes, diagrams, stories, and personality tests have explained this enigmatic quality far too many times to be revolutionary, far too meticulously to be misunderstood, and far too popularly to be the profile of a minority. Everyone, it seems, is an introvert.

what is this, Monopoly?

     Why is introversion so popular? How is it that seemingly everyone relates? An introvert needs "alone time." Needs to recharge without the constant clamoring for attention from outsiders. Needs to have breaks from pouring herself into those around her. Needs to be able to focus on personal priorities.

     Or, to put it bluntly, an "introvert" needs to have moments of no accountability. Needs to be thought "special" instead of "selfish" in her insistence on being left alone. Needs to be pitied (instead of called out) when she is disgruntled from long-term interactions with others. Do these qualities - these needs - sound like descriptions of a misunderstood personality, or an egocentric individual, longing to be justified? 

     I'm not denying the legitimate differences between "introverts" and that mysterious, little-known mutant group dubbed "extroverts" (I love you guys!), but I do see a GREAT propensity - in my life and others' - to excuse everything short of murder in the name of, "but I'm an introvert!" After all, who doesn't love a get-out-of-jail-free card?*

I'd rather just keep quietly to myself

     All growing up, I was the bookworm in the corner. I remember, on multiple occasions, my mother pulling me aside and correcting me for reading while guests were present. I took books to parties, to dinners when I didn't know the family, to the store - they were my escape, and my parents had to work hard to keep me from disappearing into a self-satisfied loner at the ripe old age of 10.

     The most memorable time my father shoved me beyond my "I'm-shy-and-I-like-it-that-way" comfort zone was when he insisted I introduce myself to a fellow student (we attended a home school science class) to recite a memory verse assignment. I declined in no uncertain terms, claiming I wished to recite to him, but he was undeterred. Scooping up his tween daughter - who, despite her "shyness", had no qualms about kicking and arguing in front of the class as she was carried across the room - he deposited me before another student with the implacable declaration: "She would like to recite her verses to you!"

     When I look back on this winner of Mortifying Moments in Sarah's Life, I feel little (aside from amusement) beyond regret. I see now that what I then called "shyness", and later called "being an introvert", is nothing so noble, so glorious. It was, rather, a hearty blend of pride, selfishness, and the fearful sentiment that if I didn't know for sure that someone would like me, I'd rather not risk it. So I embraced the world's labels, and excused my recluse habits. It was safer, more comfortable, and happier to just keep quietly to myself. 

do I need a spotlight?

     There are those, on the other hand, who find the forefront of a group naturally. Whose personalities sparkle. Who have a quick wit, an open demeanor, and a magnetic charisma to which people flock. Those who carry within themselves the gift of making all around them feel loved, and important. These happy individuals (because, of course, they're always happy) are not necessarily seeking the spotlight; they simply live their lives there, unaware of the sentiments of the sideline shadows. But as a shadow who's struggling not to check out of the real world and into her own personal one, I feel the pressure. 

     If my tendency is to withdraw from life, to live focused only on those things necessary to me, to shrink from reaching out to others - if this is my natural, selfish preference, are the Ones in the Spotlight my models of complete death to self? Is that who I must become to live as God created me to be? Am I somehow broken, that it is so difficult for me to talk to the lady beside me in the grocery store, while my friend can entertain an entire room full of people she has never before met? Should I - horror of horrors - be in a spotlight?

not about the introverts

     My answer used to be yes - but I'm learning it's not true. As an introvert, I face specific challenges in reaching out to others, but identifying and overcoming "introvert" weaknesses,I've learned I'm learning, is not accomplished by pretending to be someone you're not. God has given each and every one of us - introverts and extroverts alike - specific gifts, talents, and strengths. As unbelievable as it may seem, these gifts are not tied to whether you'd rather spend your free time with a gang of friends at the mall, or with a solitary pot of tea in your room. These gifts are based on who God created you to be, and the tasks He has given you to do - and following His leading is not any easier for Spotlight-Dwellers than it is for Shadows. It requires stepping out boldly and running down the path He has laid for you, even when you can't see past the bend. That's the funny thing about following: it implies that someone is ahead of you; someone who partially obscures the way, but who you trust to know the directions.

Live Out Loud

     So, as a girl who'd much rather quietly read in her corner, I'm being taught to live loudly - but this doesn't mean I've magically become the sought-out one, or have found myself a spotlight. Building relationships with the two girls who sit next to me in class? It took a lot of determination to introduce myself and exchange phone numbers - but my Father loves them, so shouldn't I act like that? Paying for the coffee of the person behind me in the drive-through was nothing - but when, today, I wrote him a note to say I was praying for him, and encouraging him to look up a Bible verse, I was almost light-headed with panic just asking the barista to pass it on.

     The fabled extroverts would laugh. This is what it means to her, to live out-loud?

     Yes. Because to live loudly is to live beyond the bounds of my own, controlled little world. To reach out to those around me when I know they can offer me nothing, because I have something, Someone, they desperately need. To remember that grades at school, veggies at the grocery store, or coffees in the drive-through are not the purpose of my day, but a means to lead me toward the people - classmates and coffee addicts alike - who Christ asks me to love.

     And to love them, I must break my silence. Will you live out loud?

*Lauren wrote a beautiful article confronting the introvert mentality head-on, and I strongly encourage all you fellow-introverts to hop over and get a perspective shift

Photo 1 Credit Heigl, Michael. AKG K550 Loud. 12 June 2012. Flickr Creative Commons.
Photo 2 Credit Vanova, Photo. Untitled. 10 January 2015. Flickr Creative Commons.
Photo 3 Credit Barker, Kenneth. imagine what is over there. 6 June 2010. Flickr Creative Commons.

Do You Play?

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     A wee Aspirer, clearing the door handle by mere centimeters, marches into my music room with an Alexander-the-Great measure of self-confidence and pride. Whipping her violin from its case, she announces that she has "already learned" an entire list of songs. Which, she graciously desires to know, would I have the pleasure of hearing first? As I frantically snatch the poor instrument away from imminent destruction in her whirling hands, laughter chokes me, and I am required to inform the maestro that, having never before taken a single music lesson, she does not, in fact, know how to play the violin.

     "Let's start at the beginning, ok? First you have to be introduced! Do you know what this part of your violin is called?" Thus begins the first of many lessons - sometimes months of lessons - before Aspirer will scratch out even her beginning tunes. Yet, for all there is to learn, for all the lack of music her practice holds in these opening weeks, you could bet your bottom dollar that she announces, with child-like importance, that she "plays the violin!"

You have begun, my dear, but let us work hard in the months to come. Only then will you truly play.

     As Aspirer twirls out to the car, Intermediate strolls into the room. Standing an inch or two above me - he has suddenly sprouted in these last months - he arranges his books upon the piano stand and maneuvers the bench to a precise distance from the instrument with a nonchalance that bespeaks several years' habit. Settled before the piano, he plays his assignments with a familiarity that often tempts him into carelessness, resulting in the occasional discordant fumble. Half his life he's played. He knows the instrument, the notes, the techniques, the challenges - in fact, he knows pretty much all there is to know about his instrument. He's here for accountability in applying his knowledge, but mistakes are insignificant when you know how to fix them, right? "Yeah, I play the piano," he will agree when asked, with a blasé shrug of the shoulders.

Oh Intermediate, you have learned so much. Can you not decide to diligently apply all you know to your music? Then you would really know what it means to play.

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     Finally, Advanced enters the room. With a cheerful smile and few words of greeting, she lovingly lifts her violin from its case. As she turns to face me, she looks carefully about to be sure no quick movement will knock her strings out of tune or scratch her tenderly-polished wood. Yes, she is careful now, when her instrument is as familiar to her as the back of her own well-practiced hands. Before we've even begun, she has several questions from her week of study: "What should this tempo be?" "Do I use such-and-such technique for this passage?" "Have you heard Joshua Bell's performance of this piece?"

     When she plays, her music dances like sunlight through the room. Her performance is as perfect as she knows how to make it, and my role has diminished to that of merely pointing out new ideas or interpretations of the music. "Do you play?" "Well, not very well - but I do take lessons," is her reply.

And yet, my dear Advanced, you are the one who knows - 
You know what it is to make music. 

When you play, it is not with the optimistic songs of Aspirer; she does not realize all she has to learn, and her music is unrecognizable to any who hear her. When you play, it is not with the confidence of knowledge held by Intermediate; to know is his intention, and to do is inconvenient. When you play, dear Advanced, your music touches others - because you sing to your fullest capacity, always striving for excellence, always mindful of all you have yet to learn. And that is how music is made.

Do you play?

The Love That Knows

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"And this I pray, that your love may abound still more and more in knowledge and all discernment, that you may approve the things that are excellent, that you may be sincere and without offense til the day of Christ..." - Philippians 1:9-10

How does my love abound in knowledge and all discernment?

I don't just want a succinct, theological answer. I'm not looking for a catchy slogan or profound motto to become my life catch-phrase. And I'm only remotely interested in what the great theologians of old have laid out as doctrine on the subject. That is not the point. My question is both smaller and bigger than a simple explanation/expounding of the Greek. What do I do, how does my life look different, where do I aim, for my love to abound within these qualifications? What do I say or do with Suzy as a result of having a knowledgeable, discerning love for her? My love has to encapsulate far more than good fellowship and similar tastes, surely. It must constantly be looking beyond the immediate moment and situation, and remembering its origin and purpose - that we both may know our Father more. A love full of knowledge and discernment envisions what a person can become in Christ, and kindly, relentlessly, sharpens and pushes her toward that goal. It involves confrontation - from which I shrink - with tact & sensitivity - which are not my gifts. How do I learn these things??

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But it is more than even this, I think.

To have a love abounding "in knowledge and all discernment" is not merely for the benefit of the person I am to love. A discerning love may well allow me to know when and what to say to Suzy, should the need arise, but it is equally necessary for my relationship with Christ. Suppose Suzy will not be challenged? Suppose she cannot, will not, seek the LORD for all areas of her life? Suppose she refuses to surrender certain likes, tendencies, and dreams? If I love her mindlessly, as it were, ignorant of where such actions lead or unaware of how I ought to respond, I will first accept, then approve, then adopt her way of life. This is the only possible outcome of a mindless love. A love built solely on shared histories, events, tastes, and times. A love with no anchor in morality. A rootless love: it either withers or destroys.

Springing from the LORD, growing constantly in wisdom - it is this caliber of love which enables me to not only see my friend clearly, but also have the vision (eternal eyes) with which to respond to and love her. If Suzy is not willing to rise through the challenges, this love will give me the wisdom of how to interact with her, and that Christ-taught response may be what softens her heart. And if my eyes are on the LORD and how He would have me to love her, I will have the discernment to know where I personally need to draw boundaries in my relationship with her.

So much for the good of wisdom and discernment in loving all those the LORD has placed in my path. My question remains the same: How do I learn to love deeply, with knowledge and discernment? Since this principle comes directly from the Word, I am sure to find the answer there. This, my friends whom I love, is what I have been pondering on lately.

St. Patrick's Day, Give-Away Ending, the Death-Of-All-Things-Battery-Operated, and Lessons from Anna

Inspiring title, no?

This is a post wherein I hereby bestow upon you a potpourri of such thoughts and happenings as have so defined my wee Monday.

*ahem*

Part I:

Happy St. Patrick's Day!! I almost forgot to wear green, had soggy iceberg lettuce instead of cabbage (apparently brothers don't tend to notice the differences between the two when shopping...I mean, the label "iceberg lettuce" and "cabbage" have at least 3 letters in common) and didn't even remember to watch this 'dorable tradition-of-a-video with the Littles:

Nevertheless, the sentiments expressed in this post (coincidentally one of the first posts on my blog) remain the same as I consider the day. Pray for Ireland!

Part II:

I realized there was rather a lack of information regarding last week's give-away! It officially closes Tuesday night (March 18th), at 11:59pm Pacific Standard Time. Wednesday's video post will reveal the winners!

Part III:

And now, for a sad tale.

Once upon a time there lived a girl (that's me) who had a job (that's music teaching) to go to upon a Monday morn (that's today). She ventured forth into the sun and cold (that's March weather), only to be rudely stopped dead in her tracks by a dead car (that wouldn't even start!). Said girl (still me) called upon her helpful bro (Mr. Doesn't-Know-Cabbage-From-Iceberg-Lettuce) to assist her, and since said brother was brilliant (despite some minor deficiencies in reading skills), he righted the aforementioned wrong (that is, a dead car) in record time. Thankful girl (who had only had to cancel the first two lessons of the day) drove off into the sunshine, sure of a happily-ever-after ending.

But it was not to be.

Several hours later, tired girl (that is, the first person) returned home and opened up her computer to check email (that is, paperless communication). No sooner had she loaded the page then said laptop (that is, Polly) "popped off as you might say" (who knows that quote?), never to be resurrected again. Aforementioned girl (SarahJayne) nearly cried with remorse that all things battery-operated were thus withering beneath her touch, and bravely called her father (on a battery-operated cell phone which did not die), who promptly reassured her all would be well.

And so she hopes for her happily-ever-after ending...

Part IV:

We were studying Anna this last week in our girls' Bible study, and I found these discussion questions particularly convicting. Too often, I am tempted to think merely that how I act around people is testimony enough to my Savior. I mean, with the Holy Spirit in me, how could the difference not be obvious? These questions challenged me to look for every opportunity to faithfully, verbally point to Christ. If I am the only one who could speak to them of Truth...what a tragedy for me to say nothing and wait to be asked.

We don't know what happened to Anna after the experience described in Luke 2. We can only imagine that she told everyone she knew about God's revelation. What do you tell everyone you know? If their encounter with you is their only spiritual encounter, what are they learning? - John MacArthur, Twelve Extraordinary Women

What are ways you speak of Christ, even when just having met someone?

Seeking Glory

My hands covered my eyes, and I turned my face toward the floor.

"Oh be careful, little eyes, what you see."

Settled in beside my friends and brother, I had put up my feet and was all set to enjoy an evening in the ever-so-comfortable reclining theater seats. The first preview to our film was unnecessarily gross, but one at which  I shrugged through my shudder, muttering to myself about the sad state of entertainment taste held by so many in my world today. Then another preview, worse than the first blazed across the screen. And another. By the end of the revolting third, I was waging war in my brain to ignore the sounds coming from all around me, but it was a loosing battle. "Do you want to leave with me?" I whispered to my friend, as a momentary relief occurred, "I'm going out." She promptly agreed, and we made our hasty, yet purposeful, exit from the room.

Perched on a bench outside the theater, I couldn't keep back a shudder and gasp: "Oh, those are awful! Why would they play previews like that?" We were not alone. It took all of two seconds before we were followed by first one person, then another. Within 2 minutes, half of the auditorium exited en masse, declaring that the wrong movie was now playing on the big screen. That explained the bizarre, strange, and evilly supernatural trailers to which we had been subjected. But although we did get to watch (and enjoy!) our movie later in the evening, the trailers haunted my sleep that night.

"Oh be careful, little eyes, what you see."

My experience the other evening is not the first time my eyes and ears have observed scenarios I regret. Our culture abounds with sinful and unsavory words, actions, and entertainment. What's a Christian to do? To be shut up in convents, monasteries, or communes, shunning outside influences, is not the answer, for Christ has commanded us to be in the world. However, to avoid being of the world, we must be willing to stand - and leave - with courage. Courage to face not only the scorn and ridicule of the unsaved, but (which feels worse) the patronizing condescension of our brothers and sisters. Far more often than not, I have failed to flee evil because other Christians remained, either condoning or - at best - failing to condemn. "Oh, Sarah can't handle this. Doesn't she know it's just a joke?" Or "Just a trailer?" Or "Not real?" Thus, paralyzed by fear, I too stay, stamping a reluctant approval upon the wrong.

But it gets worse.

Because I do not expose my God-bestowed senses to unnecessary searing only when under the convenient excuse of peer pressure. No, no. Be it picture, book, song, or movie, I am guilty of observing - even reveling in - the quiet solitude of evil, as well.

"For the Father up above..."

"Actions speak louder than words." A weak resolve may flutter uncomfortably in the company of moral carelessness - or even mourn the delayed reactions: "should have walked out earlier," "should have stopped reading sooner," "should have looked away quicker" - but flimsiness of the will is, at its very root, a shamefully tragic lack of conviction. In his second epistle, Peter earnestly instructs Christians to give all diligence and "add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self control...godliness...." In other words, to conviction we must add character, knowledge of God's will, discipline to choose His will, and a fervent love for the good. "For if you do these things," encouraged Peter, "you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ."

"Neither barren nor unfruitful"? I want that to be me! Conviction of right and wrong is not merely enough- it is like faith without works: worth nothing. Not because it is nothing, but because, like going to a movie and having the wrong one play, it is not the right type of something.

"...is looking down in love."

Oh, let us never forget that we have the power of the Most High God on our side! Let us flee from being so "shortsighted, even to blindness" that we do not see the dire consequences of thinking upon anything besides the True, the Noble, the Just, the Pure, and the Lovely. Regardless of how or when those around us respond, let us care ever-and-always only for the opinion of the One who gave us our eyes and ears! With all our senses fixed on Him - quivering, straining to discern His plan and purpose - we will have no regrets, no "should have"s, no "but what will they think of me?"s. With our sights set on eternity, we will see the beauty of our Savior.

And with the joy that comes will be the power of God to thrill our conviction, strengthen our legs, and crystallize our resolve. With the joy that comes, we will no longer desire what C.S. Lewis called the "mud pies in a slum," but will revel in the "offer of a holiday at the sea." With the joy that comes, we will no longer be so easily pleased.

Let our eyes seek glory of the LORD.

"Oh be careful, little eyes, what you see."

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New Year's Cleaning

It's 2014, and I'm in the midst of a surreal game of "looking-back." January has marked some pretty life-changing events in my life for the past couple of years, and I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved that the last two weeks have seen nothing drastic, dramatic, or out of the ordinary. In fact, January rather appeared out of no where and is cruising along like any other old mind-your-own-business sort of month. Maybe it's just me, getting older, but the beginning of a fresh year with unlimited possibilities gives me a sort of restlessness I can't seem to shift. Over 300 days stretch before me, and a giddy sort of dizziness lays hold of my heart every time I think of all with which I want to fill them. There are so many books to read, improvements and experiments to try with my studio, travels to explore, friends to know better, lessons to learn, people to meet, and things to do that I am overwhelmed with both a sense of urgency and excitement. 

I want to be sure of where God wants me this year.

There is so much to challenge, see, and pursue - I cannot possibly do it all, but I dread complacency. Contentment was never really something with which I struggled. I am too easily contented; I was born complacent. It is my fear.

How I want to seize every opportunity the LORD sends my way! But as I go forward in planning this year, I want, most of all, to plan with my palms up and hands open. I want, most of all, to run after opportunity because I hear the Spirit telling me, "This is the way - come on!" I want, most of all, to know my King more, and understand better how I am to serve Him.

I want, most of all, to listen.

I want to rank lessons from the Scriptures over math or philosophy. I want to desire time on my face, seeking the LORD's direction more than coffee dates with friends or trips to NYC. I want to reflect and really chew on the lessons that I am taught and learn how to express them, rather than read a novel or scribble one-liners on facebook. I want to challenge my mind, and use it in an honest, transparent way that will honor the One who loves me more than I could begin to hope to understand.

And so, to think clearly, express fully, and share openly, this year, I resolve to write more. This year, I resolve to blog.

Not weeks on end of "Watch-It Wednesdays."
Not month-long summaries with pictures and thisismywholelifecrammedintoaparagraph descriptions.
Not weeks and months of silence.

This year, I resolve to blog every Monday because I love words, and I want to practice using them well in honor of the life-giving Word. 

There will still be "Watch-It Wednesdays" (sometimes).
There will still be pictures and journal-like entries about daily life (like throwing my cell phone away, or getting towed in Portland).
There will still be the occasional, completely random posting.

But most of all, I hope there will be the soap. Yep! Soap. The soap that the Master Cleanser uses to turn a moldering, lifeless mess into a fresh, new daughter.

Will you join me for my cleaning?

Make-It Monday: Memories

Thanksgiving behind us, Christmas before us, many of my projects and crafts have turned in the direction of gifts. There are some few spare items floating around that I will post about eventually - socks, leg warmers, fingerless gloves - but in the meantime, I will reminisce about my favorite things to make: memories!

A few years back, a small, dear group of friends and I began what was to become our annual "Beach Weekend." A teeny-tiny cottage by the beach, complete with pint-sized hot tub and quirky but endearing leopard-print carpet was our original destination (you can read about our first adventure here, but no one blogged Year Two, to my knowledge). Due to shaky schedules and questionable availability of "our" cottage this year, however, we opted for an entirely different experience: A weekend in Portland! It was such fun to explore a city we all live near (our hotel was a mere half hour from my house!) but rarely peruse. Despite the fact that two of our gang were in and out because of school and work, we had a grand time!

Day One was our shopping day...

We took the max downtown, and popped into all sorts of fun places. Tea Zone, Anthropologie, Powell's -

{I do beg pardon, but I must interrupt myself here for a (brief?) paragraph about Powell's! The largest used-and-new bookstore this side of the Mississippi, Powell's takes up an entire city block and stands an impressive three stories tall. We wandered around in dream-like delight, blissfully ignorant of all time, for several hours. I love having friends as book-crazy as I! Exercising GREAT restraint, I bought only two books: a brand-new Wuthering Heights (after reading it, I had to own it), and an old (and copyright-date-less) A Child's History of England by Dickens which I had been longing for ever since Anthony Esolen's mention of it in Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child. I could here launch myself onto a soap box about how much I love that Dickens and MacDonald (to name only two) wrote children's stories using complex sentences and large vocabularies - relying upon the interest of the subject to keep Littles engaged - rather than using 3-letter words in 4-word sentences, but I shall hop right back down again and get back to our weekend. :)}

 

- as I was saying, Powell's and any other shops that struck our fancy along the way. As you can see from the pictures, it was characteristically windy and rainy, but beyond an umbrella flying up in completely the wrong direction, we were none the worse for wear!

 

Nonetheless, we were glad to get back to our {luxurious-feeling} hotel room, change into warm, dry clothes, and commence all sorts of goofiness refined entertainment. From four of us "hiding" under the covers in an attempt to keep one tired friend from going to bed, to playing "chubby bunnies" with exceptionally juicy grapes, I think we must not have had many rooms around us occupied, or our noise would surely have turned out many disgruntled neighbors!

 

 

What seemed like a few short hours later, we were up and breakfasting, having bid adieu to one friend, and waiting hopefully for the arrival of another. Settling down with notebooks and Bibles, we worshiped together that Sunday morning in our room, with mugs of steaming tea and a wonderful sermon by Alistair Begg. Our theme for the weekend, the lesson that seemed to repeat itself over and over, was the overwhelming truth that every insignificant thing - the quietest person, the most mundane schedule, the smallest choice - does not merely "matter in eternity", but has the power, by God's miraculous grace and pleasure, to transform the lives and futures of all around us. Even the coffee cup from the breakfast room reminded us...

 

We Know Small Choices Make a World of Difference

After worship, we had lunch, hit a few shops, and came "home" to dress up for our special evening! Salt and Straw ice cream (now a highly-recommended P-town stop!) was our first destination. Notorious for its unique flavors (the most popular being Salted Carmel Ice Cream), Lauren, Mikaela, and Kaytra bought Lavender Honey Ice Cream (it was delish!) while I opted for the slightly stranger-sounding Cardamon Ice Cream With Carrot Custard And Pistachio Butter Cream (in case you couldn't tell, I forgot the actual name). Scary-sounding though it be, it was a true treat of unique and tastefully blended flavors.

 

Stop number two was a lovely church hosting the beautiful performance of Bach's Cantata Number 8 ~ it was wonderful! Finally, we finished our evening out with a trip to the original Old Spaghetti Factory. Back at the hotel, we played games, ate cookie dough, and watched the entire four hours of North and South from start to finish. Thus ended a delightful Day Two.

 

 

Monday morning dawned far too early, but as we rolled out of bed we were greeted with the happy prospect of a Tea Taste Testing (thank you, Lauren and Mikaela)!

 

A trip to the store, a visit to a friend to congratulate her on finishing a test, and the weekend was over {far too soon}. Next year, if the LORD wills, we will return to our little cottage by the sea, but I (for one) will never forget the year we did our "Beach Weekend" in Portland!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There is, of course, so much more to spending a few days with wonderful, Christ-seeking friends than shops and restaurants. Together, we eccstatically discovered a "new" author of whom we'd never heard (Joseph Addison) and shared histories and lessons that, in the telling, served to pull us tighter together as sisters in Christ. I am so grateful for these dear, dear girls I call my friends! These memories...they'll last forever. :)

 

 

*all pictures...most pictures...taken by Kaytra

Watch-It Wednesday: Our Identity

This isn't the post/video I was planning on posting today, but sometimes you are just so surrounded with a theme, that it's impossible to ignore, you know? Lately, the LORD has been teaching me so much, I feel like I don't have enough pens and paper to be writing it all down - and I'm filling out sheets and sheets!

 

Here are some beautifully encouraging lessons on God's love and grace; which, as He has bestowed them upon us, give us a whole new identity: that of a child of the King. First, you really should read Alistar Begg's devotional here. (And while you're there, sign up for the daily emails - they are such an encouragement to read each morning.) Are you, like Daniel, a "man greatly loved"?

 

And here's a song I've been listening to over and over again...it's become my theme song, this last week, echoing precisely my thoughts and prayers as, daily, I realize more and more just how badly I mess up:

 

 

Beautiful, isn't it? Our Father's love and grace - there is nothing as lovely and glorious. He is so sufficient for all we could ever need. Rest joyously in this, and have a wonderful Wednesday!