Tribute to the Bluff #3: Deep Roots

Dawn signals the arrival of each day's sun approaching just behind the mountain range. I have a clear view from the bluff. Like clockwork the sky lights up in an array of blue and orange colors. The sign of a new day. I've seen many days come and go.  

I've lived here a long time. Don't know how old I am. My roots are deep here.  They keep me stable and secure, especially when the brisk wind blows along the bluff. Or the thunder storms rattle my limbs.

I've seen the changes here on the bluff. From an untouched vast land to an occupied residence. Two - Dad & Mom- who then become a family of four with Son and Daughter.

Dad works hard on the land.  While others sleep, he walks the pasture in his black irrigation boots and a shovel in hand; moving water to quench the ground's thirst. He is up with the moon many times throughout the night. His toiling is the result of green pasture for his livestock. Irrigating season is long, and Idaho is dry. He is up early in the winter season too; supplementing the pasture grass with bails of hay.  He beckons his sleepy herd with a familiar sound, "Sa-boss! Sa-boss!" Steers and heifers form a single file line down the cow path they've created over the years. Their breath visible by the cold morning air. They recognize his voice and know his call. I saw the hours he spent pounding steel posts into the ground and building barbwire fencing around the property. I saw the piles of wood being chopped, hauled, and stacked to keep his family warm during cold nights.  I saw ditches shoveled and burned to help water flow. It was his to care for.

Mom spent much time working the land too. Hours in the garden, preparing the land to produce a harvest of corn, radishes, peas, carrots, and beans. She put her two children to work, picking raspberries. I watched as she planted trees and bushes around their home, weeding flower beds, arranging rocks and stepping stones, and staging antique artifacts around the front of the house. She too wasn't afraid of hard work, working along side her husband; willing to put in the hard work it takes to make a life for yourself and your family. 

(Mom giving Son & Daughter a horseback ride. Evidence of the old oak tree behind.)

Son and Daughter were active, riding their motorcycles up and down the long driveway, trying to go as fast as they could; hitting the breaks before running into the barbwire fence at the end of the lane. During the summer months, it was their 4-H cows they walked down the lane, training them for upcoming local fairs. 

Daughter used the pasture as her driver's training.  She had the choice of two small Datsun cars (one yellow, the other blue).  The pasture became her range to practice turns, shifting, and parking. 

The land invited its dwellers to explore, to try new things and master skills, experience the pride of hard work, learn the lessons of responsibility, find boredom can be turned into creative imaginations. I watched as the family enjoyed special traditions - the excitement of corralling the horses early Easter morning and hauling them to the sunrise service on horseback. 

The land aided in producing roots for this family. A safe nurturing place to dwell, to be themselves, and grow up developing deep roots to the bluff, which gave them stability and strength to carry on.

While I saw the joys of living on the bluff, I also saw sorrow. Son's heart break when he learned that his dearest companion and friend, Sonny, a beautiful sorrel horse, had to be put down due to a leg injury. A very difficult decision for a young man to make. He raised and trained Sonny as a young colt. He loved him.

Daughter too felt the pains of grief. I can remember the night, seeing her standing on the edge of the bluff overlooking Linder Road. She experienced death for the first time as she looked down to see her horse, Bunny, lying in the middle of the road surrounded by people, lights, and police cars. Bunny had been hit by a car - sadly, two lives lost. Bunny was pregnant.  The next day Mom told Daughter not to go outside because Bunny was still there.  Daughter could not resist and snuck out to say good-bye to Bunny one last time.  She slowly crept around the side of the bluff so her mom couldn't see her through the kitchen window.  As she peeked around the corner, there her precious friend lay lifeless.  The little girl cried tears of great loss, nothing she ever experienced before, feelings of sadness, anger, and confusion all wrapped up together. There the Daughter laid with her body resting against the side of the bluff, curled up with her knees to her chest, weeping out loud for things to be different. 

As the dawn signals the sunrise, dusk cues the sunset and invites life to rest and work to end.  Each day's events and activities form whom we become. The storm winds come, but our roots bury deep into the soil of the land where we dwell, keeping us strong and steady. Son and Daughter have since grown and left the bluff.  Dad and Mom sold the piece of property they worked and toiled for 36 years. 

The land was just as much home for this family as the house built on it. 

Today my view is obstructed from the visual alarm of each morning's sunrise, but I still have first class seating when twilight begins and the sun says good-bye for another day. I can recall many evenings of Dad, Mom, Son, and Daughter enjoying the same show I still enjoy today. They grabbed a popsicle from the garage freezer and stretched out on their freshly mowed grass to pause and take in the amazing sunset display. 

No matter what happened on the bluff that day, the evidence in the sky of a good, loving Creator always held true, making the bluff a sacred place where roots grow deep.

-The Oak Tree

Tribute to the Bluff 2 - Strangers To Family

If you read my last post, this is the second of this month's Tribute to the Bluff.  The piece of property my parents bought as a young couple, seeking to start their life together and raise a family on.  I'm taking a break from my present fast-paced living to pause and relish the small moments in my past; honoring the simple deposits into my childhood for which I'm truly grateful for.  

The only thing left standing on the Enzminger Ponderosa is one large oak tree.  When I was young, I didn't recognize this tree all that much.  It was surrounded by scrubs and other trees and a little red house sat in front of it, that of a elderly couple named Jim and Margaret Peterson. 

(Margaret and Jim Peterson with our dog Tara)

They owned the twelve acre bluff, which was a small portion of the 400 acre homestead owned by Margaret's father.  

In 1969, my young parents knocked on Peterson's door with a bold request - to ask Jim & Margaret if they could buy one acre of their property from them.  They said no, but then added, "You can buy 11.5 acres from us though." Shocked by their response, knowing they could not afford to buy almost the entire piece of property, Jim and Margaret Peterson gave my parents a deal they could not refuse. A most generous gift. The transaction was made, and these strangers became neighbors.  And the old oak tree watched as this young couple began working the land and raising my brother and me in their double wide mobile home on the northeast corner of the property; making it their home.

 (Me in front of the double-wide)

My brother Adam and I would ride our bikes (or motorcycles) down the lane to Jim and Margaret's little red house. They didn't have any children of their own so we gladly took the liberty of being spoiled by them.  Our neighbors became our friends. 

Margaret had a doll I gravitated to every time I stepped foot into their house.  I would rummage through the toy box just to hold the doll while I was there.  Her body was odd shaped, made of a gray cloth and red polka-dotted plastic material. Her plastic face had a cracked chin held together by a small bandaid. She wasn't a pretty doll, but I loved her still.  It was her big blue painted eyes that stole my heart. Before leaving their house, I'd always ask if I could take her home with me...

Margaret would kindly remind me that this was her home, but I could visit any time. After the Petersons moved off the bluff many years later, Margaret finally granted me permission to take her home with me. 

Our favorite time at Jim and Margaret's was pulling up to Jim's bar in his pool room.  I'm speaking billiards here.  I would place my order for a 7UP and Adam always had a Pepsi on the rocks.  Jim would place our full classes on a battery powered contraption (I don't have a better word for it) that would motor our drinks to our side of the bar.  Even though Jim would do this routine every time, Adam and I would anxiously watch as the full glasses approached the edge of the bar at full speed.  And just in the nick of time, it would stop.  Laughter always ensued, and Jim's shoulders would shake up and down as he laughed, tears welling up in his eyes.  It never failed...laughter brought on Jim's tears and caused him to pull out his cloth handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his eyes.  Jim was the first one who taught me that tears can be happy.  That tears can also be an expression of joy and happiness. 

Selfishly, Adam and I went over to Jim and Margaret's because we knew they had toys, soda, and unusual contraptions, but we also knew our time together brought them joy. We began calling Jim and Margaret our godparents.

Jim died before I was married, but I was blessed to have Margaret, represented as one of my grandmothers at my wedding. When I look at that old oak tree still standing, I don't think about things.  I think about people and how they made me feel.  I'm not writing about all the homework I had to do, all the responsibilities required of me growing up, the school projects or deadlines...when time passes we remember the people and the memories we shared with them. 

I wish life could be lived in hindsight all the time.  I think there would be less regrets that way.  My last moments with Margaret was sitting by her bedside, not knowing if she could hear my last words to her.  She couldn't respond back.  Through heartfelt tears and great sadness, I expressed my love to her the best way I knew how as a 26 year old. Praying she could somehow know how much she meant to me. 

That oak tree saw strangers become neighbors. And neighbors become friends.  Friends earn the title of "godparents" and then become forever family.

Don't take for granted the people around you. Those neighbors living right beside you could be a hidden treasure for you and your children - new members of your family!

(They loved us as their own.  Here Adam and I are with Jim & Margaret 

and their niece and nephew)

Tribute To The Bluff

Two weeks ago, I went back to the bluff. 

The bluff that taught me about livin’ and what growing up looks and feels like. 

It will probably be the last time to walk its premises and take in the View from the Bluff. Sadly, it’s no longer mine to enjoy. Life changes and some changes are easier than others.

I spent much of my time looking at the outskirts of the newly developed property - the parts untouched by progression.  The edges that seem to still hold my life story. Like the plum trees still near the base of the bluff along the canal or the physical features of the side of the bluff that brings back memories of digging, traveling, and exploring the bluff’s terrain. I didn’t know dirt and the ground could mean so much to me. 

My dad’s old fence line still stands on the back of the property behind a now beautiful and expensive rod iron fence. Dad’s barbwire fence is one you’d see in an old Western movie...picturesque.  As my parents and I take inventory of what is left, my dad proudly makes known, “I put that old railroad tie into the ground.” Still holding the fence securely in place. I’m sure flashbacks of the hours and hours he poured into this land ran through his mind. 

Part of the ravine where my brother and I spent hours riding our motorcycles up and down brought about the sweet memories of spending time with my brother and how I wanted to ride a motorcycle just like my big brother did.

The bluff supports a new foundation now. There is not much of the land that isn’t developed, paved, or landscaped. It’s purpose has changed. The only thing that remains on the original 12 acre homestead is the old oak tree that stood next to our neighbor's house, which sat right in the middle of our property.  

It still stands, but no longer is able to see the sunrise coming up from the northeast mountain range.  A new structure blocks its view, but the aged tree can still enjoy the pleasure of the beautiful Idaho sunsets in the west.  Those were my favorite!

This tree watched our neighbors, Jim & Margaret Peterson, build a little red house next to it.  Then in 1969, a young couple bought 11.5 acres from Jim and Margaret’s 12 acre property and raised their two kids and various livestock on the bluff for 36 years.  I’m always mesmerized by large elderly trees; wondering what they could tell us from their point of view.

It’s November…a season of gratitude easily overlooked as the festivities and flurry of Christmas expands into Thanksgiving’s territory.  But this year for the month of November, I would like to pause and find gratitude in the stories that have made me who I am today by making a Tribute to the Bluff.  I want to share with you what this wise old tree saw over a short course of 36 years and has survived to tell even with all the recent changes. Life lessons that live on inside of me, yet easily forgotten in the much faster-paced and complicated lifestyle of adulthood.  

There are treasures in our past we often forget when we are so focused on our futures. 
I pray my words this month will honor the days gone by and bring about a new found joy and gratitude in unwrapping the ordinary moments and reveal the extraordinary value in our stories.

Join me this month as I share my stories, my past, my old homestead as a

Tribute To The Bluff!

What Do We Do When Tragedy Strikes?

Tragedy.  An event causing great suffering, destruction, and distress.

The emotional suffering of loss and grief. The physical destruction of hurricanes and wildfires. The distress of chronic pain and life-threatening illness.  The horror of inhumane events like shootings. Each situation leaves us confused, angry, and at a loss. Tragedy happens in our fallen world.

This summer, I received the shocking news that my good friend’s husband had passed away from a sudden heart attack. Physically fit and healthy-looking on the outside did not reveal any health concerns nor any imaginable heart problems.  A young wife suddenly a widow and two beautiful girls fatherless.  What do you do?

Two weeks later, word of another friend was delivered.  She had finally found the cause of her cough: a cancerous tumor attached to her lungs. My husband and I have sat beside her at many lacrosse games and enjoyed discussing the topics of the game. But we’ve never sat beside her to talk about the more serious issues of death and eternal things.  What do we do?

Then came Fall, introducing itself with the opening ceremony of a solar eclipse, bringing people from afar to catch a glimpse.  With our heads raised upwards in anticipation to watch the outer world align, we easily grasped our own smallness; mere spectators of something greater out there.  

However, the awe-inspiring works of creation took a turn. Nature revealed its destructive power as hurricanes pummeled our U.S. coastlines, leaving piles of homes and trees as evidence of our smallness once again. We are not as in control as we think we are or hope to be.  What do we do?

Tragedy strikes again with the devastating event in Las Vegas. No words can describe such horror, but our souls feel it deep down inside.  No words can explain the why; tragedy is complicated.   We try, but the answer to why questions are not easy nor simple. So what do we do?   

It doesn’t stop there within these past five months.  Uncontrollable fires raged across California, leaving hundreds of people homeless and more lives lost. But after every tragedy, whether seen only through a television screen or experienced personally in our own lives, there is a choice to make and a question to answer:  What will we do?  How do we respond?

The beloved disciple pens Jesus’ words in the gospel of John:

“I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” 

(16:33 NIV)

Jesus did not sugar coat the future for his disciples. He didn’t paint a pretty picture of what was to come. Instead, he disclosed the honest truth that trouble would come. But take heart! Jesus doesn’t leave his followers without another promise and truth for them to hold onto through the trouble: “I have overcome the world.”

The events of these past five months sent me seeking for some understanding of how to process these tragedies in my own mind as well as encourage those who are personally experiencing the suffering. 

A message from Passion City Church’s pastor, Louie Giglio, caught my attention: “Hope When Life Hurts Most.”  He states that when life’s tragedies come, all we can do is look to the cross.  

He goes on to say, “There is an anchor for the soul at the cross of Christ.” When we look at the cross we see Jesus, who took on all sin and darkness, who endured the indescribable simply because He loved us.  We would also recognize that Jesus had every power at his disposal to prevent this from happening. However, His love for us drove him toward the unspeakable and gave him the strength to take on evil in a way that would have looked like defeat to us. Jesus’ followers that day must have thought the worst had come. They could only see one moment within the larger story. 

If we examined only the cross that day, we could only see the most inhumane injustice.  But when we put the crucifixion in context along with hindsight, the cross becomes the most beautiful gift of all. A gift that overcomes death and all the pain and suffering in this world.  

Louie shares with his audience, “The cross is saying I understand. When we look at the cross we can say:  Jesus, this happened to you!  You suffered death. Pain. Loss. Rejection. You’ve been there. Which allows us to run to the cross. Sure, God can change the circumstances, but the cross proves He doesn’t always change the circumstances.  But it proves He always has a purpose in every circumstance and will be our Anchor.”

 “We have this hope as an anchor for our soul, firm and secure.  

It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, 

Jesus, has entered on our behalf.”  

Hebrews 6:19-20a (NIV):

What do we do when trouble and tragedy strikes in our world or in our own personal lives? We focus on the cross. How do we respond when friends lose their husbands or are battling a rare form of cancer and cliche words only hurt not heal?  We point them to the cross. When why questions cannot be answered and unthinkable events take place, what can we do?

We make the cross of Christ our soul’s anchor to steady us through the world’s tragedies. We take refuge in the cross because He knows our pain. And we take heart because we know ultimately He has overcome it all.

Overcome. To defeat; triumph or prevail over.

Louie Giglio - Hope When Life Hurts Most

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSwJqRJF7JM

Embracing Different

I followed my daughter to church one morning...

I'm realizing very quickly these moments of simply being with my daughters are becoming less and less.  It's more complicated now.  

The days of picking up my girls from grandma's house after work and taking them all home with me are gone.  I loved gathering them up and having them all to myself as we nestled in at home during the evenings.  We didn't do anything super special - just listening to the stories of their day, giggling around the dinner table, literally running in circles on stick horses, sitting in the shade of the old oak tree in our backyard. Simple things like that. 

I've gotten used to having them around.  The sounds of their chatter back and forth, their contagious giggles, creative play all throughout the house.  

Our girls are still with us, but it's starting to look different. 

Gathering them up isn't as simple and easy and routine as it used to be.  Instead of gathering my "chicks", I'm scrambling to keep up with their schedules and whereabouts. They have scattered to participate in their own unique worlds of middle school and high school, of sports and activities, of friends and boyfriends. And much of that time does not involve me. 

That's the hard part, but it's exactly as it should be.  

My dependents are becoming their own self-sufficient beings, and the joy of gathering them all up together is a bit more of a challenge.  The time of being all together has now become more sacred and priceless to me because it doesn't happen as naturally as before. I have to be intentional about our togetherness, which can feel a bit artificial or forced sometimes. What do you do?

I rode my bike home from church by myself and pondered the new phase I'm entering into... 

whether I like it or not.

  

Each new chapter of motherhood stretches me out of my comforts and beyond my control, forcing me to adapt the way I nurture and interact with my girls, and how I gather them up. 

I'm reminded that nothing stays the same...except change. 

My role as a mom changes. Therefore, my expectations have to change. I can't pretend my growing girls aren't becoming young independent individuals. You see...

Change brings along "different".

As Love & Respect speaker Emerson Eggerichs would always say, "Not wrong, just different."

When different arrives at your doorstep, do you invite it in and embrace the changes it creates in your home? Or do you slam the door in its face and refuse to let it in even though it will find its way in no matter what?  

Different doesn't mean wrong or worse or even less. Different can be exactly what God has planned - personal growth, new opportunities, maturity, self-awareness, new found courage, or perhaps greater depth in relationships.

Even though I miss the days I could gather my family up and keep them all to myself, my selfishness in that is very clear to me.  My girls were not given to me to meet my needs. They were given to me for a time and a purpose - to nurture and equip and prepare them for God's high calling. God has given me the unique privilege and responsibility of raising these three valuable girls, and with each new chapter I must take a step back, look at different, and embrace the divine and natural changes that occur with time.  

Not wrong, just different.

Be The Miracle

"When you don't get a miracle, 

you can be a miracle to someone else."

- Nick Vujicic

Nick prayed for arms and legs.  It's a simple request to God, and Nick knows a miracle such as this would not be too difficult for the Creator who spoke the world into existence   He even described to us last weekend in Nampa, Idaho how amazing it would be if God would grant him the miracle of arms and legs while he was speaking on stage to us. Wouldn't that be incredible?  Wouldn't that type of miracle explode all over the news & social media? We would see with our very own eyes the power of God, and people would then believe. It seems like a no-brainer to us.  

But God doesn't always work the way we think He should. And at times it's hard to understand why because our wishes and requests seem so right to us.  If God is a good God then why wouldn't He grant us these good pleas for a miracle?

Why wouldn't He want to give Nick a whole body? These are the situations that can bring about doubt, discouragement, confusion, and even bitterness.  But I did not see that in Nick even when he has every right in our eyes to ask "Why me?" and to believe life is unfair.

In 2010, I watched thousands of people in Arequipa, Peru gather to hear Nick speak about his faith and life with God.  Because of his story and his words, people's lives were transformed. They found hope. They found the strength to keep going. They found healing from spiritual and emotional bondage. They found Truth, purpose, and a Loving Father they never knew.  

Nick's life could have been wasted with self-pity and bitterness and anger when life did not turn out as expected. But instead the "handicap" he was born with has become the very thing God has used to draw people unto Himself and change the lives of others in miraculous ways.  

Nick hasn't received his miracle, but he has experienced first hand the miracle workings of God through him. He has become the miracle to someone else; in fact, to countless amounts of people. 

"Each time he said, "My grace is all you need.  My power works best in weakness. So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses so that the power of Christ can work through me. That's why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ.  For when I am weak, then I am strong."

2 Corinthians 12:9-11 (NLT)

When life throws us a curve ball, we have a choice. Do we focus on what's seemingly unfair or find God's strength in our weakness?  Do we hang on to doubt or can we grasp ahold of a steady, trustworthy, and loving Father, who can work through all things? Or as my mother-in-law would ask, "Are we going to let this make us bitter or better."

Nick said it succinctly, "I don't need to know God's plan for my life, I just need to know He has one."  Rest assured, God has one for you, and it's probably bigger than the miracle you are asking for.  In fact, the miracle is right in front of you, looking back at you in the mirror each morning...that miracle is you!

When you don't get the miracle you want, be the miracle others are praying for.

Thanks, Nick, for sharing your life with us and being a miracle to so many others!

From Song to Prayer

Some of the best writers are those who compose songs.

How often do we sing in church and miss the depth and rich meaning of the words to the song coming out of our mouth because it's become so familiar to us?  Rote. Mindlessly singing. Habitual repetition. Yet when the mind sees the words and connects those words with the heart and soul, it becomes Spirit-filled and the door opens wide to pure worship.

This past Sunday I saw the words of the song, "King of My Heart" for the very first time.  No, I've sang this song before; in fact, many times, but this time the words came out of my mouth and transformed into a heartfelt prayer instead of a familiar church song.

The writer of this song, Sarah McMillan, shared on Facebook, "I wrote King of My Heart to remind myself that there was no joy or sorrow that could dilute the pure goodness of who God was.  Everything I thought I lost, could actually be found in the Force of His goodness."

This morning as you start your day...may God's goodness overwhelm you.  Whether you quietly read these lyrics to yourself or belt them out at the top of your lungs or listen reflectively to the link below...open up your heart and soul to this message of who God is or can be in our lives. Perhaps this song will become a prayer and heartfelt cry to the one good, good God:

Let the King of my heart

Be the mountain where I run

The fountain I drink from

Oh-oh, He is my song

Let the King of my heart

Be the shadow where I hide

The ransom for my life

Oh-oh, He is my song

You are good, good, oh-ohh

You are good, good, oh-ohh

You are good, good, oh-ohh

You are good, good, oh-ohh

Let the King of my heart

Be the wind inside my sails

The anchor in the waves

Oh-oh, He is my song

Let the King of my heart

Be the fire inside my veins

The echo of my days

Ohh! He is my song

You are good, good, oh-ohh

You are good, good, oh-ohh

You are good, good, oh-ohh

You are good, good, oh-ohh

When the night is holding onto me

God is holding on

When the night is holding onto me

God is holding on.

Listen to the song:  

"King of My Heart" by John Mark & Sarah McMillan

How About That Analogy

"Walk with me and work with me - watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

Matthew 11:29-30. (Message)

I was in charge of having something to say.  

We were gathering women together who have poured their lives into ministry and supported husbands in church leadership. Their roles are unique, and even after I found myself in the same position, I still cannot explain the complexity of the role they live out each day. But because I've been in their shoes, I now understand.

With great empathy. 

I wanted these women to know they were not alone.  That they had a place to be themselves, a safe place to share, laugh, and have fun. My desire was for them to leave inspired.

What do I say?  I wrestled with ideas and words that just wouldn't be penned (pun intended). These women were giving up their Saturday to come, and some were driving quite the distance.  I felt the pressure...and then in frustration, I dropped to my knees and began to plead God with the only words I could form:

"I've got nothin', God."  

"You're gonna have to give me something."

I didn't even have words to pray.  So I sat in silence.

I heard the door to my bedroom open and footsteps walk across the room.  I felt the presence of my youngest kneel down beside me and place her arm around my shoulders. She didn't say a word...and then God gently spoke:

"How about that analogy?" 

I smiled and took in the moment of my 11 year old doing what came naturally to her. 

"Unless you become like little children..." (Matthew 18:3)

Her actions spoke volumes to me. Her presence did more for my spirit than words ever could. I didn't need an eloquent speech or a creative activity to lead the group.  Our gathering itself created the space in our schedule to come along side, be present, and put our arms around one another - the unforced rhythm of grace.  No words necessary.  

God doesn't lay "heavy" on us; we lay it on ourselves. I force things; He enters gently and naturally. I often complicate things in this life while Jesus simplifies the things of this world.

How about that analogy? Is there someone in your life, who simply needs a friend's presence today? No need to perform or say the right words, just live freely by keeping them company as Jesus does for us in our times of need.

He says, "Watch how I do it." 

And sometimes his modeling is displayed through our very own children. 

Loving Well

"The more we love others, the less we will love our sin." - Billy Graham

A friend of mine was impacted by a scenario she read in a book.  

The scenario was...if you died and went to heaven and were presented with this question,

"How well did you love?" 

How would you answer that question?

The scenario struck a cord with me as well.  Defensively, I could rattle off numerous ways I've loved my husband, made loving sacrifices for my children, reached out to friends and neighbors with compassion. But on the other hand my thoughts reveal countless moments when anger and frustration got ahold of me, times when I allowed judgement to override kindness, when my pride was the source of offense, and my actions were self-seeking. 

I've loved, but have I loved well?  The adverb certainly transforms the meaning of the sentence. Yes, I fall short...really short, but I don't feel shame nor beat up about it.  In fact, I feel encouraged in this challenge because I know God is a loving and merciful God, who is parenting me to be the best "me" I can be.  Just like I discipline and instruct my girls, I do it because I love them and want them to be vital contributors in the world.  Make a difference.  Have influence.  Change the world. Isn't that exactly what God wants for us?

I also find freedom in this scenario of heaven.  That in the midst of a crazy-busy schedule my ultimate strategy and focus is simply to love well today.  One task.  No matter the circumstance.  No one else to seek approval from. No other expectations to live up to. Don't have to prove myself. It sets me free from what I pile on myself to accomplish in a day, and I'm able to set others free from my expectations and approval as well.  

1 John 4:18 "There is no fear in love. But perfect loves drives out fear."

If we examine the times we fall short, I believe most of our actions and attitudes of sin stem from our own fears and insecurities.  So as we practice loving WELL, we also drive out the fear that keeps us in a love relationship with sin. 

Break up with sin today by loving well!