Washed by the Water

Growing up, I was raised believing in God, and attended Lutheran churches for my entire childhood, as well as my first couple of years in college.  I was baptized in the Lutheran church shortly after I was one year old.  I went to a Lutheran elementary school for my first two years of education, and sometime after my family and I moved into town in the spring of 1991, I began going to a Lutheran church just down the block from my house. 

I loved going to church, largely because I was going with my grandma, who loved going to church.  The services were very traditional, and I learned them quickly, able to recite the various parts alongside the congregation before too long, without needing to use the hymnal for reference much of the time.  I attended confirmation classes in that same church, was confirmed, choosing Proverbs 3:5 as my life verse, and took communion for the first time in that church.  I can still picture the red carpet, warm wooden pews, and countless stained glass windows that surrounded us.  My senior year of high school, we had our baccalaureate service in my church.  I helped teach Sunday school and vacation Bible school there. I felt so at home.  

Even now, as an adult, when I attend a Lutheran church, I can pull the traditions out from my memory and integrate myself seamlessly amongst those who regularly attend.

Halfway through college, I discovered new churches, and began to attend them.  At first, they seemed a little “out there,” with contemporary worship songs instead of traditional hymns, following different layouts for the service.  Communion was more open to everyone, and often less traditional in how it was taken.  There was much less repeating creeds, call and responses, and the sermons were more vivid to me.  I stopped taking sermon notes, as I had learned growing up, and started to really just listen and remember the messages.  I started laughing in church.  I started to love the music, raise my hands, and sway along with the beat.  

I found myself focused much less on what was coming next and much more on the experience as a whole.  I grew up knowing God loved me, Jesus loved me, and Holy Spirit loved me.  I grew up afraid of messing up and going to hell.  I grew up reciting memorized prayers.

My former husband and I were married in a contemporary church, with contemporary services, although our wedding ceremony was still traditional in most ways.  After a few years, we moved to South Dakota, and started attending new churches all over again.  We found one we fell in love with, the pastor, the programming, the children’s ministry, the worship, the Bible studies, the community.  For the first time since my childhood in my hometown ELCA church, I felt this church was home. 

By this time, I began feeling differently about tradition and was working on letting go of the “rules” I felt religion called to me, and more on trying to just feel, hear, or sense what God was calling. At first, when our oldest son was born, I was unsure of dedicating him instead of baptizing him in infancy like I grew up knowing we were supposed to do, but after prayerful consideration, I really believed that’s what was right for our family.  Along with our dearest married friends who had also recently had a baby boy, we dedicated our sons in that new home church. 

After a couple of years, my marriage started on it’s beginning toward the end, and we sadly went to church less and less.  Our second two children never were dedicated, and for years after my former husband was gone, I felt such guilt about this. I knew in my heart it wasn’t a “necessity” and if they grew up believing and trying to know God, whether or not they were dedicated as babies was not going to keep them from a life of salvation.  The enemy tried hard to dissuade me of that for many, many months.

By June of 2015, my marriage was basically over and my children and my world was crashing down around us.  We no longer attended that church, were living in transitional housing as I worked a new job after being a stay-at-home-mom, with my former husband more a figment of our imagination than a person that was actually around.  I began attending a Lutheran church that was close to where we were living at the time, because I could walk there.   I attended only a few times, and felt so out of place.  

At my new job, however, I was placed in a room at a church daycare, with mobile infants and a couple other staff, one of which became my confidante, one of my best friends, and a beacon of hope and shining light of Jesus love.  Eventually, she convinced me to come to a Sunday service at the church where our daycare located. I confided in her that I was anxious about it, not sure I would fit in, worried what it would look like to be a single mom with three little children, and hated the idea of sitting alone.  She invited me to sit beside her and her family, right there in the second row.  I put on my brave, and I attended the church.

I was completely surprised by how welcome I felt.  The children’s pastor welcomed me and my children with open arms and a heart full of joy.  Over the years, she has become another one of my closest friends, even though she has moved on from that pastoral role.  The congregation welcomed us as well.  There were so many kind, caring people who began to love on me and my littles, and we never stopped going.  That church is still our home.

Soon after we attended, there was a baptism service.  At this church, as well as the one before, children could be dedicated, but you choose when and if you want to be baptized.  I recall, so clearly, watching, cheering, and worshipping as baptisms happened up in front, and in an instant, I had this thought.. “What if some day all three of my children were baptized, and I was re-baptized, and we did it together?”

I could almost envision it in my mind.

That thought never left.  Over the years, we witnessed many baptisms.  The children would often watch, and they would cheer alongside us all as people re-surrendered, re-professed, and publicly invited us all to be a part of the joy as they celebrated their re-birth by water baptism.  Each time, I would think, “what if…”

Occasionally, throughout the years, I would ask my children if they were interested in or ready to be baptized.  Each time, they would say no, for various reasons. I would not push it, because I knew in my heart it would happen when they were ready for it to happen.

Fast forward to a couple of months ago this year, 2023.   My daughter, the youngest child, watched baptisms happening at church and told me she might be ready next time it happened, but she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to do it on her own.  Immediately, I went back to my vision, though I did not tell her that.  I simply said that perhaps, by the time they happened next, someone else in our family would want to be baptized too. I prayed it would happen, and we let the idea rest quietly.

My oldest son woke up one morning, a month or two later, and after I sang the “good morning, I love you” little song I sing each day, he asked me, before any other words came out of his mouth, “Mom, when is baptism happening again?”  I was so shocked that I was not sure I heard him correctly, and asked him o repeat the question.  It was the same thing.  I asked why, and he said, “I think Jesus wants me to be baptized.”  I found out later that it was because he had a dream he was with Jesus, and Jesus lead him to be baptized in it.  

That same day I went and found the children’s pastor and we figured out when the next baptism Sunday would be. I shared the news with my son, and he did not say much more about it.  During the end of the school year, he began attending a youth group at my friends’ church instead of our own, and started becoming more invested and open in his faith.  One day, the second week, he asked me for his own adult Bible.  He attended a youth-group summer camp with that youth group, and about a month later, a youth-group retreat with our own.  The retreat was the week before baptisms were to be happening at our church, and I had not heard much about it again, and was hesitant to ask and make him feel coerced, but I found out he told the children’s pastor at our home church that he was still going to be baptized.  I was elated for him.

The week prior to the youth-retreat that lead into baptism Sunday, I began asking my second son, the middle child, about the possibility that he might want to be baptized, too.  He was largely not committed to an answer, and would sway back and forth between a yes and a no depending on the breeze or his mood.  He told me he would think about it, seriously, and asked multiple times about the temperature of the water.  Once he heard from the children’s pastor that the water was warm, he told me he was ready to be baptized.

Just like that, it seemed, after 8 years of holding onto this vision, all three of my children were planning to be baptized on the same Sunday.

I was ready, too.

I know that to many, it may seem strange that I would choose to be baptized again as an adult, considering the fact that I was baptized as a young toddler back in my first home church.  Even I was battling that thought for a moment or two.  

I wanted to lead by example, on one hand, and on another, I wanted to stand alongside my children and proclaim to everyone that Jesus is MY Lord, Savior, Father, Friend, and Brother.  I wanted to make a public declaration that I believe in His life, and how he gave His for my own, so that I would not go to Hell because of my birth into a fallen world, like I was afraid of growing up.  He makes us new and washes away our sins, and it was time to declare all of those things for myself, of my own choosing.

On Sunday, July 30, 2023, in the middle of worship, all dressed in t-shirts that read “You are a treasure,” my children and I were water baptized in our home church, surrounded by our church family that has prayed for, over, and with us, for most of my children’s lives.  They have supported us in so many known and unknown ways, and loved us during our worst times.  

It was a perfect morning.

I entered the water first, guiding my daughter to join me.  She declared that she loved Jesus, and because of her faith, I was able to baptize her in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  The joy in her face as she rose out of the water was indescribable and she giggled quietly as I hugged her so tight.

My middle son was next, as he had asked me to baptize him too.  I was unsure what reason he would give for deciding to be baptized, because the entire week leading up to it, he was not really able to form an answer if I asked.   When given the opportunity to speak, however, he told, with beautiful language, how he knows Jesus loves him for who he is and he is under God’s wing (in his own words, which are recorded on the church Livestream for revisiting). I baptized him the same, and he rose with one of the largest, most genuine grins I had seen on his face in years, and we embraced before he left the water.

Next, our Lead Pastor joined me, and after we joked about me baptizing him, he asked me why I was choosing baptism that day.  I told a brief account of my vision 8 years ago and how every one of my children had decided, individually, to be baptized, just like the idea I had, and this was fulfilling that vision.   Pastor Brent, the first lead pastor I have met who really sees me for me, loves me for who I am, me, Nicole, as a person, was who I knew I wanted to take this step with me.  Our pastor, who is a brother to us as well, is legally blind, but really, truly, has been the first lead pastor to see me as a sister in Christ.  

 The actual submersion of the baptism felt like it was happening in slow motion. I felt the water as it rushed from my torso up over my head, warm, light, comforting, and freeing, and as I rose, it all fell away with utter weightlessness and I was immediately filled with joy.  I immediately knew that this was a prophecy that he had spoken to me, over the life of my family, being fulfilled, and I had not thought of it that way prior to that moment.  I felt strong, confident, and peaceful, all at the same time.  And as I peered out into the congregation, I saw, even without my glasses, the smiling, cheering faces, of so many who had been there while awaiting the prophecy to be fulfilled. I turned to Brent and hugged him so tight, and then made a way for my oldest son.

My son has become such a brave young man over the years.  Once, he was so anxious about things that he would hide in the back and sometimes cry.  He did not want people watching him.  But this day, he walked with pure confidence and determination, and entered the water ready. I could sense it.   He spoke of how God came to him in a dream, calling him to be baptized.  He too had Pastor Brent baptize him.  He is blessed to have an amazing, honest connection with our children’s pastor too, who has watched him grow up for many years now, and had deliberated between both of those amazing male role models to baptize him.  When he rose from the water, I saw the most brilliant grin on his face, and he came, arms wide open, to embrace me.   As we did, Brent cheered him on from behind, with the church family joining in their seats.  The hug was electric.  It was a perfect moment.

It was a perfect family baptism.  

I have watched and re-watched the baptism and looked at the photos I have multiple times over the last week.  I can play the experience back in my mind so effortlessly. I pray I never lose that ability.  I have cried beautiful tears over it all, and been amazed by how steady God has been through our lives as we all aligned to that day. He is so, so good.

(Thank you to my friend Jolynn of Beloveds Design Photography for capturing baptism photos, including the one I share publicly here.)

Disclaimer: Nothing I have expressed here is meant to condemn or ridicule the Lutheran Church (or any other traditional ones). For me, personally, the church I was raised in was becoming more tradition and repetition and feeding my soul less, and I needed a change. Contemporary church is where I found myself at home again. I still have love and fondness for my roots!)

Relating to the Christmas Story

 A couple of weeks ago, my pastor asked me if I would be willing to light the Christ candle at Christmas Eve church, read a verse, and maybe even read something that I might write.  I said yes before I could talk myself out of it, which I knew I would do in a short amount of time if I was given the opportunity.  You see, I am not really fond of speaking in front of groups of people, and even though I know almost everyone in my church family, standing up front and talking in front of all of them… is unappealing.  I would much rather write something and just leave it for others to read on their own.

So, naturally (haha), I said yes.

I decided my best approach was to pray about what to write, which I did, and then (im)patiently waited for an idea to flow.  A few days passed before late one night, when I couldn’t sleep due to pain, an idea sparked into sentences and I text myself the very beginning of a rough draft.

I worked on it a bit the next day, and then got distracted.

So, I waited a few more days, and then let the remaining words flow through my fingers, onto the keyboard, to be printed onto my screen.

It was a bit lengthy, but the idea behind it was genuine, and it seemed to be the only thing I could think of to write about.

Fast forward to this afternoon, I was preparing for church, and trying to print out the two pages I had developed, and for the first time since buying it, my printer decided it was going to give me issues.  First, it was low on ink.  Then, I couldn’t get the ink cartridge area open.  So, I googled the issue, switched the ink out, and then wouldn’t you know it… there was a paper jam.  I couldn’t find a paper inside the printer ANYWHERE, so I decided to try and print again.  I printed, but it looked like someone had taken the top half of all the letters and slid them to the left about a centimeter, and it was incredibly difficult to decipher, even though I knew what it said.  I tried again, and it printed a little more clearly, but still not in a way I was comfortable trying to read from.  Suddenly, the jammed piece of paper popped out, so I figured I was good to go.  I was wrong. I wasted 12 more pages of printed text that looked like I was trying to read through someone else’s glasses, or those drunk goggles you used in high school learning about drinking and driving.  It was terrible!  It was also a half an hour until church started.  I tried one more time, and finally, a version that was mostly legible popped out, and I gave up so we could go.

Tonight, I stood in front of our church, recorded and broadcasted live over the internet (so nerve-wracking), lit the Christ candle after only two clicks of the silly lighter (I hate those things), read Luke 1:14, and then my 3 minute piece.  I’m sure my voice trembled and my daughter said I looked nervous, but I was nervous, so I’m not surprised.  My children all said I did a good job, and the message was good.

After I left church tonight, I decided that maybe I should share the rough, unedited, longer version on my blog, in case there is someone out there who needs to read it, for whatever reason.  So, without further adieu, here is the long, first draft of how the Christmas Story spoke to me this year, and became more relatable than ever before.

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In the hustle and bustle, mingle and jingle of the holiday season, I find myself captivated by the sounds, the sights, the flavors and scents that evoke emotions and memories of Christmases past, and rejuvenate anticipation of Christmases coming. I can be overtaken by the sparkle and the joy in the atmosphere, the smiles and friendly warmth of many you come across, but also the very real truth of heartache for others, activating my empathy and compassion just a little bit more.

It’s easy to get caught up in the here and now of the Christmas season, or to reminisce on both good and bad memories of the Christmases we have already been through.  It’s so easy to buy the gifts, to sing the songs, watch those movies, to decorate the trees and homes, send the cards, fill those red buckets, recreate your family traditions, and say “Merry Christmas” to those who cross your path.

It’s so easy to forget to see the days blitz by without reflecting deeply on the true meaning of Christmas, until Christmas Eve church, a lot of times.  We know both in our hearts and our minds what the real meaning of Christmas is, but it’s just so easy to get caught up in the festivity of it all.

For many, myself included at times, even knowing the meaning of Christmas, the Christmas story seems like it’s so far removed from our modern day life, that it’s just a beautiful, true story that reminds us that Jesus is the reason for the season, and that God so loved us that he gave Jesus to us as the best Christmas gift ever. 

This year, life circumstances have slowed me down, yet again, and I have had ample time to sit and reflect just a little bit more on what Christmas means. 

This year, I have spent hours creating decorations with scenes from the Christmas story, the manger, the angels, the wise men, the shepherds, and as I’ve sat with Christmas in my heart, I’ve come to find that the Christmas story is much more relatable than I ever realized before.

As I sat in silence, painting the starry night sky, I began to see the myself in the parts of the Christmas story.  I wonder if you can see yourselves scattered throughout the story, too.

In a way, I feel like we are all a little bit like Mary, believing in God, waiting for him to speak to us- to give us a sign, a word, a plan.  Sometimes, he surprises us, and shows up in a way we never imagined, asking us to things we never saw ourselves doing.  And like Mary, we sometimes say yes.  We invite him within us to fulfill this plan he has spoken over us, and in doing so, we birth Light and Love into this world to change it for the better.  We may not always know what we have gotten ourselves into, but we trust that he will guide us, just like he guided her all those centuries ago.

In a way, we are all a little bit like Joseph.  Sometimes, we make plans, and we end up blindsided by the way things end up panning out.  We occasionally get thrown a curveball that sends us well out of our comfort zones, and on a long, arduous journey where we feel out of control.  Sometimes, there’s panic and frustrating urgency, trying to get everything lined up according to our own plan, searching for comfort and security and a place we see fit for whatever is coming next, all while trying to meet a deadline.  We run into doors being shut right in front of us and other obstacles on our journey.  We find that we must relinquish control and just let God lead us on our way.  He has a destination and an outcome in mind and it may be beyond anything we’ve ever seen coming.  

We are all like the shepherds.  The shepherds, who at the time of the Savior’s birth, were minding their own business, off in the hillside, on a quiet, peaceful night.  They were undoubtedly disheveled, likely smelly, and probably socially awkward outcasts, just doing the one thing they did best to provide in this world.  There they were, just doing their own thing.  And suddenly an angel appeared to them.  While we may not have knowingly seen angels in our lifetimes, we, like the shepherds, have heard joyous heavenly messages that have completely shattered the mundane moments we find ourselves in, and change the course of our lives.  Or, at least, I hope that we have, or will, at some point.  This is also a clear demonstration that God doesn’t see us for our rank or notoriety, and he is willing, able, and excited to bring his message to even the outcasts, the lower society, the “nobodies” of the world.  I believe at some point, we have probably all seen ourselves as a nobody, but how amazing is it that when we peer into the Christmas story, we can see that even THEN, God is excited to speak to us.  Like the shepherds, those words from Abba spark joy inside of us, and should lead us to shout from the mountains, the valleys, or plateaus of our lives the good news of Jesus in our world.

We are like the angels as well, in some ways.  It is in our love and admiration for our Father in heaven that we sing, we exhale, we praise Him.  Our worship and praise rings out to those around us, breaking up the darkness with a divine splendor, echoing in hearts all around.  Like the angels, we live to spread the news, share the promises of heaven, and inspire the lives of those around us. In some instances, we may even be like Gabriel, in that we have heard a specific message from the Father, and through his voice and urging, we are able to tell others that God has something unique and wonderful in store for them if they choose to say yes!  Yes, like the angels, we can hear our Father’s voice.

We are all like the wise men, (and even that fictitious little drummer boy).  While we all come from different backgrounds, upbringings, families, and economic standpoints, just like these people, because we love and revere Jesus, we long to bring gifts.  We shower him with these gifts, whatever they may be.  For some, their gift is song, like the legend of the drummer boy.  For others, their gift is more tangible, like that of the wise men.  Each of us has our own unique giftings, and Jesus loves when we use those gifts to honor Him.  In honoring Jesus with our gifts, we are also blessing others. If you think about it, in the Christmas story, the gifts that were brought were for baby Jesus, but he was not the only person there who could benefit or be impacted by them.  The scents and splendor of spices would carry through the air to anyone in the babe’s vicinity.  The sparkle of gold would bring beauty to the atmosphere.  A song of love and worship catches in the hearts of others and brings radiance and joy to their spirits as well.    

Perhaps most importantly, God calls us to be like Jesus, who entered the world, hungered, grew, and learned as we do.  He entered the world the same way we all did, hungered as we do, grew, learned, walked, and lived alongside others, just as we do.  His miraculous entrance to the world as a mere human baby led showed us how to live and love as God calls us to.  We are one with the Father, just like Jesus.  We were born at the perfect time, for a perfect plan, just as Jesus. 

Each of these characters is integral to the Christmas story. I hope, like me, with a bit of pause, you can see the Christmas story is not only one of the first Christmas, but a relatable representation of where we’ve been with Jesus, where we are now, and the places we will continue to go on our journey with Papa God.

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Merry Christmas, everyone!

NMW

 No Matter What

NMW

Those are my initials. 

Actually, years ago, my dear cousin, my Bean, Tarah, pointed that fact out to me.  She said when she saw the phrase “no matter what,” she thought of me.

In church this morning, Pastor Brent Parker gave an amazing message about peace.  I recommend it to anyone right now, and it’s accessible via Church at the Gate’s website.

In the midst of the message, he used the phrase “no matter what” and it latched my attention, hook, line, and sinker.  I actually picked my phone up from under my chair and wrote myself a note- “NMW + Peace” is all it said.

Peace, no matter what.

Peace, NMW.

This world has been shaken this year in countless ways.  We are living through something that I believe most would think, we were completely unprepared to live through.

Because of the chaos and the uncertainty we all face right now, the world as a whole is struggling.  There’s upheaval and unknowns and it is unsettling for many.

The world needs peace.

It was a timely message, in that it’s December, it’s advent, and we are preparing for Christmas.

Christmas is the celebration when none other than the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, inhabited the earth.  He born himself among us, to walk alongside us, to show us the goodness of God.

Then, he gave His life so that we could be with him, always.  We are with Him now, in each and every moment, and if we allow Him to, He is with us in each of our hearts.  He is our spirit and soul.  

The world is searching for peace right now.  They’re looking for it- as a thing.  

And, as Brent pointed out, peace isn’t a thing.

Peace is a who.

That Who is right here, right now, every moment before, every moment coming up, every miniscule space of this gigantic world.  Peace is all around.

I know, to someone who doesn’t know the Prince of Peace yet, it all sounds silly.  It sounds like something that cannot possibly be true.  It sounds like something to research and try to prove as reality instead of just going all in and believing.  It sounds too good to be true.

But it is true.

We can have Peace, NO MATTER WHAT, because Peace has us and is just waiting for us to accept Him.

No matter what, NMW has Peace.  While I know I have it, every moment of my life, because I have Him, I also know the reality of the situation is sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it.  I’ve found that’s usually because I’ve forgotten to look for peace as a who, and have started striving again for peace as a thing.  It’s easy to fall back to that, though it gets less frequent with time.  

I’m still learning this.  It’s a lifelong journey, and the destination is not the goal, it’s the process we take to arrive there that has the most meaning.  It’s what grows us the fullest and roots us the deepest.  It’s what softens and expands our hearts and our minds.  When we finally arrive at the destination, we will understand that much better. 

Honestly, when I realized my Peace is a who, I can see CLEARLY that I've been walking this year, this lifetime, out in Peace all along- even when it didn't seem like it.

I write this not only to you, but to myself, as a reminder.  This year has been incredibly difficult and I’ve spent days lacking peace as a thing.  Thankfully, I’ve been blessed with a family that has been so firm but gentle, and overwhelmingly loving, when they steer me back to my Peace as a who.

I pray that in this Christmas season, you can join me in preparing and accepting the Peace that’s been here all along since the figurative beginning of literal endless time.   I pray striving ceases, and acceptance abounds, and from that acceptance, Love will overcome the world before our eyes.

“Our faith in Jesus transfers God’s righteousness to us and he now declares us flawless in his eyes.  This means we can now enjoy TRUE and LASTING PEACE with God, all because of what our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, has done for us.” -Romans 5:1 (TPT)

Cautious Bravery

When I decided to blog after church today, I heard the enemy telling me "People are going to just think you're crazy, hearing voices, and psychotic. You didn't 'hear' God or 'feel' Him. It's all in your imagination."

Screw you, Satan.

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Recently, there's been a change brewing in the life of me and my children.  Something unexpected happened, and as a result, I had to make some decisions I wasn't mentally prepared to make.

I prayed about it for days.  I took a break from social media and filled the time I would have spent catching up with friends online praying and seeking wisdom as to how to proceed.  I sought advice from trusted companions, and found confusion in doing so, with divided opinions and advice coming from multiple avenues, so I kept on praying about that as well.

After about a week, I had what I decided was the next step, and proceeded with cautious bravery.

Cautious bravery.

I'm not sure that's a thing.  If you google "cautious bravery," you find a few different takes on it.  On one hand, people seem to think you can't be both cautious and brave or courageous, and then on the other, it only makes sense to do so.

For example:

That said, this new juncture and all of the possibilities of what could happen based on whichever decision I made was nerve-wracking, slightly terrifying, anxiety inducing, but also hopeful-exhilarating.

As I mentioned, I took my options, prayed about them, tried to imagine probable outcomes, and went with what I thought God was calling me to do.

I was afraid of being wrong, afraid of interpreting what I thought God was telling me wrong, and afraid that even if I was doing what was right, it could all go wrong anyway.  But, I owned the decision, and I stepped forward on faith.

I decided, in doing so, that if I was going to just assume it would all go awry, I was speaking words of death over the decision, and also placing my faith, trust, and hope in humanity instead of God's divine sovereignty.  I decided to anchor myself on hope and God's ultimate goodness, and I committed myself to continued prayer, because I know that human emotion can be wishy-washy sometimes, and I knew myself well enough to be able to foresee that I wouldn't always be completely hopeful, and the old patterns of condemning thoughts and negative assumptions would slither into my mindset occasionally.

I told myself that even though the decisions I make affect more than just myself, and that all people are infallible, God can use everything and anything that would come from it for His ultimate good.  I know that while it is best and important that others in my life have God in their lives, all I needed to rely on was Him, and who I am in Him.  I know who I am in Christ, and I believe I have a good idea who my children are in Christ, and that was enough to solidify my choice in proceeding.

Now, I acted on my decision, and so far, good things have come from it.  I give each day to God, and when I start to fear and worry, if I turn to my closest confidants first instead of God, they remind me to give it to God.

Today, in church, I had a big God moment.  During the beginning of worship, which is generally the part I connect with most emotionally, I was singing along, but struggling to be emotionally invested in it.  I kept having random thoughts filtering through and I realized partway through the second song, if I recall correctly, that I just couldn't "see" or "feel" who it was I was singing to.  Usually, this is not an issue for me, but today, I just felt disconnected.  Realizing that, I decided it was probably an attack from the enemy, and with the knowledge I've gained through the past couple months, I decided to use Jesus as my ammunition and attack back.  I had a moment of bravery, in that I would normally be apprehensive that others would hear me or notice, and I spoke aloud, "The enemy MUST go NOW in the name of Jesus Christ.  You have no business here."

It sounds silly, I know, and I've felt that it was silly on the multiple occasions that I have needed to conduct warfare in such a way.

I continued on, praying audibly, "I feel like I can't see you Jesus, and I don't know why.  I know You're always there."

I stopped singing almost instantly, and tears started falling.

"You can't see me, because I'm hugging you."

That's what I heard him say.

And it made so much sense.  I was suddenly flooded with the image and feeling of a warm embrace, my head buried in His shoulder, as I heard him tell me that he was proud of me, that He has made me strong, brave, courageous, and that it is okay to be cautious.  He knows that I worry sometimes and I fear other times, and He understands how sometimes I find it difficult to come to Him first, but He forgives me, accepts me, doesn't condemn me, and appreciates my honest attempts to keep Him first. I am okay, I am perfect.  He told me that what decision I made recently didn't matter as much as the fact that I sought His counsel and waited earnestly before acting, choosing what I believed He was telling me to do over what the world told me to do.  He reaffirmed that no matter what, because my hope is anchored in Him, it's going to be okay.  He reminded me that He has been there through every peak and valley so far, and that He has ultimately won it all for us anyway.  He reminded this little quiet warrior girl that she is filled with His peace and grace, and that good things will come from the trust I've placed in Him.

While I don't know what will come from my decisions and what is in store for us, I trust that it will all work out for God's good.

Sometimes, it's scary to not know His plan.  Sometimes, I fear I don't know if I'm listening or hearing or interpreting correctly.

Sometimes, I just have to latch onto the cautious bravery he's formed within me.

Not oddly at all, the next song in worship was about sitting with Jesus, being with Him, hearing His heartbeat, and so forth.  The pastor spoke how the Holy Spirit was heavy within the place.  He spoke of God's gifts being imparted right then and there, and the sermon was about healing.

It made sense.

I've found freedom, healing, and seen myself through God's eyes this year.  It's amazing what will happen when you give it to God.

You've Got a Friend

It's been said many times that as we get older, it gets more difficult to make friends.  Maybe it's not necessarily difficult to make them, it just isn't as easy to come across them, I suppose.

I have found this to be true.  I look at my children, and they will make friends almost instantly. Sure, most won't be lifelong friends, and half of the time, these "new friends" are people they'll never see again, but they're so non-judgmental and uninhibited in their friendship making that it's something in which I find myself awestruck.

I remember being in kindergarten, like my oldest is now, and making new friends.  Thanks to the technology of my generation, I am actually still friends with many from my youngest school-age years, even if we aren't close, we can connect on Facebook and keep up with each other's lives.  I am still friends with my high school best friend, and my college best friend as well.  I have a handful of online best friends who have also been there for 16 years or so.

I have been blessed with the fortune of making a few really close friends in the end of my college years, as well as a really close friend in the beginning of my motherhood years.  I have one close friend from my the end of my childbearing years as well (that makes me sound much older than I am, I suppose).  

I then found my world quaking and myself withdrawn and secretive about it.  My walls and my guard went up, and I shut myself down in many ways.  I got a new job and met new people, but I didn't really allow myself to make friends with them for a while. I was terrified that what they would find, they would not like, and then I would be an outsider who was nothing but drama and chaos.  

As time went on, I opened up to some, and grew quite close.  I gained a few of my current closest friends in life at that job, and I am so very blessed.  Through that job, I began attending my church, where I have met even more people, that I would consider to be more than just acquaintances, they're my friends.

Much of these friendships, while I wouldn't say are superficial in any way, are not deep-rooted at this time, though many have the potential to be so.  I hope that more become rooted as time goes on.

That said, this evening, I had an experience that caught me off-guard.

It was a transitional experience, I think.

I think I made a new friend.

This friend.. well, I've known her a while, and I thought of her as my friend at church anyway, but as I said, not necessarily a deep rooted friendship.  But tonight, I found myself feeling like a school-age child as I went home, realizing I had exchanged phone numbers with my friend and text her a couple times.

Now, this friend, I've seen her and conversed with her many times, topics both light and deep, and we've exchanged quite a few hugs. I always enjoy seeing her, and I have hoped she felt the same.

Tonight though, I don't know what really switched.  Perhaps nothing really did, except that I really sat down and realized I had this friend, who had been there for quite some time, and she really did want to pursue my company and my friendship.  She told me "I love your heart."

Immediately after, the enemy was on my back telling me that people couldn't really "love my heart," it was just something you say to be nice.

Ugh.  At least I knew it was a lie.

It got me thinking about making friends as an adult.  As a mom.  As a single mom.  As someone who had recently let down her guard in a big way, and is allowing new people in without them really having to "prove" that I could trust them, because I'm not nearly as guarded as I was even a few months ago.

Where I am in life, I do not get out much. I go to work most hours of the week, I go to church, and I go to the grocery store.  That's pretty much it for any invested time regularly.  So, in line with my invested time, most of the meaningful friendships I've been blessed with over the past two years are through work, and one that was mostly through church.

But tonight, I realized I made a new friend, in my new season of life, with my new hope and my new faith.  And for some reason, that seems like a big deal. I am excited to get to know her better in the time to come, and I am so very thankful that she feels the same way.  

I have been so very blessed by the rich friendships I carry in life, especially through the hardest struggles and deepest valleys I've been through.  But, there's always room for new friends, too.

Free in 2017

It's been a few years since I made any resolutions as many people do.  New Year's Day is a time to refresh, to start over, to move forward from the year past and look forward to what is to come.    Granted, this is something we should be doing daily anyway, but New Year's Day is a day that most everyone seems to set aside for big changes and resolutions.

Generally speaking, when I decide it's time for a change, my resolution starts that day.  Some things I've decided to work on are my excessive sarcasm, personal time and bible time with God, playing on the floor with my children, reading more, speaking words of life instead of words of death, and getting back in the grind with my health.  I'm hoping that soon, I'll have more energy and less fatigue because I'll be better about getting more iron on a regular basis, and I will get back to where I was with working out, because I love and miss it.

Those things were all decided upon in 2016, so they're not really New Year's things.

Today, though, I chose a word.

Free.

One of my best friends has chosen a word of the year for a few years now, and she's shared it publicly.  Each time, I have admired her for doing so, and thought it was inspirational. I've seen others join alongside her, choosing words, themes, mottos, and Bible verses that they plan to live their life in accordance to for the course of the new year.  

Up until today, I really haven't had the urge to join. It just hasn't felt right.  I've never been able to choose a word that seemed to make sense.

In church this morning, I was singing in worship, to the song "No Longer Slaves."  It is a song that has been powerful and resonated with me each time we have sang it, to the point where I've written it out for myself at home more than once, downloaded it on my phone, and sang it throughout the apartment multiple times.  But this morning, it hit me harder, and made even more sense to me.  Instead of the just relating and finding the opening verse beautiful and applicable for me personally and how God often talks to me through song, the chorus struck me.

"I'm no longer a slave to fear.  I am a child of God."  The bridge proclaims, "You split the sea so I could walk right through it.  My fears were drown in perfect love.  You rescued me so I could stand and sing 'I am a child of God.'"

Slavery.  Fear.  

Last year, as the years before, had it's share of rough patches and emotional rollercoasters, dark valleys, high peaks, and personal discovery.  My marriage was legally dissolved, and I wrestled for months with that realization.  In the fall, I took the Cleansing Stream course at church, and found bondages breaking left and right, freeing me mentally and emotionally from countless years of baggage, chains, and scars.  

I found myself evolving into the strongest woman that I have ever been, I think, emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually.  I've lived another year out in faith, anchored by hope, trying to trust, trying not to worry, trying not to fear.  

This morning, our pastor was talking about New Year's changes, much as I have already written about.   As he was talking, I heard the still, small voice saying, "Nicole, you're free. You're free. YOU ARE FREE."

I've known it.  I've known it for a long time, years, months, weeks, days.  I've known in theory, and I've felt it increasingly over the past couple months since walking through the Stream.   But this morning, I really felt it.  And I knew that this year, I had a word.

Free.

God has freed me from my bondages.  He has won every battle (for me, for my children, for my family, for my friends, for everyone, really).  He bought it by his blood. I've known it all along.  But today, I could see it.  I could see that I am not who I was last year in yet another way. As our pastor was talking about looking back and how we can't dwell in the past, but have to move forward, I realized that the past woman was worried and feared things that I had no control over quite frequently- more frequently than I realized at the time.

This year, I can see there are big things ahead.  I closed out the last year by opening up doors I never imagined would be in front of me already, if ever, and I took a leap of faith in doing so.  I prayed fervently, thought deeply, and trusted in God that no matter what decision I was making in that hallway, He would be alongside me and He had it all under control for me and my children, no matter what.  I chose to believe in life over death, and in doing so, I chose not to fear and not to worry.

I stood there in church this morning, seeing how, as many times in the past, I could be sitting here, worrying away the minutes, afraid that things could and would fall apart, placing my trust in and investing solely on the will of man instead of the sovereignty and protection of God.

Instead, I realized I'm free. I have finally accepted my freedom.

My word- free.

My word and my goal are perfectly stated in the verse I've chosen for my year.

"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery."  Galatians 5:1

My personal spiritual, mental, and emotional challenge for this year, summed up by the word "free" is to fall back on God, to stand firm in my salvation, firm in my faith, and to not let the enemy entice me back into my bondage.  I need to keep my eyes forward, walking in my freedom.

I am free.

Children and Light

I have mentioned in the past how grateful I am that my children and I have found a home church- the Church at the Gate.  Due to circumstances surrounding their father's abandonment, it was too difficult for the kids especially to continue attending our former home church, and one weekend last June, I attended CATG for the very first time, and aside from weekends when we were too ill or it was negative 40 degrees outside, we have attended church there every Sunday and many Wednesdays since.

Now, I love our church, and I have started to be a bit more open and friendly with other members, but I still find myself quite reserved, especially with people my own age.  I am not entirely certain why I find it harder to connect with them other than often they're two parent households with young children and I feel in my own mind like I don't fit in.  Even that is a bit of an assumption.  But, I often find myself connecting with people who are a little further along in life than I am, with children older than my own.  I feel more at peace with them, but I think I've always sort of been that way. I remember loving to spend a lot of time with my aunts and uncles growing up, as well as my grandmother.

I digress.

I feel, as I stated a few posts ago, that I'm nothing more than an ordinary, forgettable person who blends into the crowd (unless my kids are being boisterous).  I'm used to this, especially after my former husband was the charmer and charismatic one, and I was just sort of there.  He was the socializer for our family.

Before the message began at church today, as always, we engaged in worship after greeting one another.  As is occasionally true, God speaks to me individually during this time.  Today, He spoke twice.

During the greeting part, I shook a few hands.  I have been challenging myself to branch out further and walk farther away from my seat and to greet people that I don't know.  It's tough, and I do not succeed as well as I would like to claim.  Every Sunday though, there are two people who I always see.  One shakes my hand as I return to my seat, but the other finds me if I haven't found her yet, and for the last month or so as I have been recovering from the pneumonia and broken rib, she's suddenly been giving me hugs.

Another thing about me is that during the last couple years of my marriage, although I love hugs, both giving and receiving, I've found myself questioning whether it is okay, whether I can, or should give a hug to any given person at any given time.  I found myself feeling this way in my marriage, unsure if I could hug my own husband, but not really knowing why.  So, I struggle with that still and overthink giving an actual hug.  But, I will gladly receive one at most any time.

Goodness, I cannot seem to stay on topic today.

So, as is becoming customary, I approached this beautiful and friendly woman who is older than I, as I have many Sundays before, and for the fourth or fifth time ever, she gave me a huge hug.  Today, after asking how I was and I inquiring about her, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "You're always such a bright light in my day. I love seeing you here."

I stared at her, probably blushing, feeling incredibly shocked, and said "I really don't know how to respond to that, but thank you."  She smiled and hugged me again and I returned to my seat thinking about the moment.  And then I laughed.

As per my last post, you may (correctly) assume I've been exhausted and stressed out.  I feel like I've been in a funk the past few days after a pretty wonderful week all around.  I personally have been seeing myself as closed off, not very friendly, and certainly not full of light.  But then, I felt like God was whispering to me, "You shine."  

I shine?  Me?  No way.

I have Christ in me.   I prayed with a friend this week over my relationship and understanding with the Holy Spirit.  It's a concept I understand less than my relationship with God and Jesus.  As we prayed, I visualized the wall that I had between the Spirit and I formed a door, and with her encouragement, physically stepped through it.  She asked what I felt or saw, and I said something about it being much brighter.  She talked with me and affirmed that I do have the Holy Spirit within me (which I knew theoretically but still do not entirely grasp, yet to day).

Well, I think the Holy Spirit is what gives us our light.  

I don't see my own light.  I really don't. Not often. And when I think I see it I am probably way off anyway, so I try not to dwell on it too much.  But today, someone I see once a week for a few moments at a time told me that I'm a bright light to her.  

The ironic thing is- she's a light in my eyes.  She's one of many I see at church regularly and think to myself "s/he's got Jesus inside."  You can just see it radiate in their face, their actions, and their words.

I then recalled a month or so ago how a coworker that I do not work with often had written me a note telling me that she sees Jesus in me. I remembered tears in my eyes and some confusion as I read the whole note, not understanding how others see that in me when I feel I cannot sense it myself.

When we were singing, and truthfully I do not remember which song at the time, I was contemplating the whole light situation, and my thoughts were suddenly turned to my childhood.  The lyric was about having God with us every day, he wouldn't let us fall, and he never failed us.  He's faithful, always faithful.  That song.  While singing it, I realized that I am one of the fortunate ones who has grown up with God.

My grandmother was one of my best friends, and I am so blessed to be able to say that, because she is the biggest reason, I believe, that I had faith growing up.  I loved to spend time with her, and many Sundays, I would go to church with her.  I went to Sunday School and parochial school for a couple years beginning my education, but after, for the most part, my family went to church on holidays, until we moved into town  and I started going to church regularly with my Grandma.  (At least this is how I remember it, though I believe it's fairly accurate.)  I continued going with her through my junior high and high school years when I entered confirmation classes, taught VBS for one summer, and was confirmed. I absolutely adored sitting next to her in that sanctuary with the bright red carpet listening to our pastor and singing hymns. The sermon notes required for confirmation class were never a burden, they were interesting to me.

I went to college at an ELCA Lutheran college for two years, did youth lock-ins with an outreach ministry, and worked at a bible camp in the summer.

Without my grandma's light, I don't think any of that would have happened.

While I strayed somewhat from time to time, distancing myself from our Father, He never left me, and I never abandoned him.

I have often worried about the effect I have on my own children's faith, and I worry more often than I should that I will fail them or I'm not doing good enough.

And God told me this morning, "One light is enough."  Yeah, because my grandma was the one light I had.  And I can be the one light to my children.

The message began and it was about raising the faithful- raising children in the church.

While I went to a church and "belonged" to it as a child, the church, to me, didn't feel like I believe it feels to my children now.  I had adults there and all, but I wasn't really close to them.  And our church is filled with not only children, but an amazing children's ministry with a loving pastor and countless volunteers who I know help my children feel loved and important and special.

The message was aimed at us adults and how we need to make sure we have inter-generational relationships, and how the children learn scripture and God's word in the classes on Sundays and Wednesdays, but it is our job to share the testimony of his Goodness and Faithfulness in our own lives, so they can see the Word brought to life. Our pastor urged us all to connect with the children and speak Life and Truth over them and share our testimony.

And then I felt overwhelmingly grateful for the adults in my children's lives who have been doing this already for many months.

I'm not alone in this.  Yes, I'm one light.  But my children have many.  So, even when they are not with me, they are at daycare in our church with teachers who have lights.  And they spend time with our dear friends every so often in their home, and I know they speak God's word and His love to my children, and they see them living and striving for a Godly life.

I realize I have many friends and family who are believers, but not a lot of them ever really talk about it, especially with my children.  Most do not urge them to pray, though, or bring God into every day conversation.  

Our pastor spoke also about the children having a strong anointing.  I believe this to be true of my children, though they are so young.  My oldest, I have been told, is an amazing prayer warrior, and he is only five.  It blows me away, because my prayer life is something I am still really working on shaping, and often feel overwhelmed or confused about how to pray, when to pray, which words to use, and so forth.  But, according to some, my son has it in him.  When our pastor spoke of anointing, that's immediately what I thought of- my prayer warrior.  I realized as pastor spoke about the children's ministry in our church how blessed we are to be there, yet again.  There are adults there who notice these gifts in the children and work to strengthen and guide them, which is such a blessing to this momma who worries and struggles on her own sometimes.

Starting at the Gate

A year ago, I was still attending and a member of the same church that my ex-husband and I attended beginning in 2010. I loved that church (I still do) and had absolutely no intention or interest in finding a different church to call my home.

God has plans that we don't always foresee, however, and in June, one weekend when the boys were at a family gathering with their father, Norah and I took up my friend's invitation to check out the church that we both worked at during the week, that she and her family have attended for many years. 

Every Sunday since that day in June, with the exception of less than a handful where the kids or I were very sick (or it was -40 degrees outside), I have sat amongst her family at 8:30am to worship our God and learn more about Him.  They welcomed my children and I into their church and their family, and we have felt at home ever since.

The opportunity arose this month to attend an informational night on church membership, and without hesitation, I decided to go. 

This morning, I started at the gate. I am now a member of the Church at the Gate. Not only have we been welcomed as family by my friend, but now we belong to the church family officially.

I've felt for months I belonged there, and it feels solidifying to vow myself as a member there. It's exciting and challenging all the same time. I don't know what will come of our time there yet. What I do know is that we are welcome and wanted. 

I was talking with the Children's pastor, who I also consider a friend now, how I feel like I know it's the right place to be because my children have been excited pretty much every single Sunday since June to attend church and Sunday school. They've made relationships with kids and adults there too. They love going on Wednesday nights too, and the staff and volunteers who interact with my children are so kind and patient, and many have let me know personally they really appreciate my children and want us there.

This past week was the official end of my marriage and the family that I had hoped, dreamed, prayed, and fought years for. 

But today, we were adopted into a new family, a large family, one that I have faith will support and encourage us for our journey ahead.

I pray that I will have the strength and courage to open myself up wholly and let the family really get to know me. I have struggled for many years letting "strangers" or new people really in, especially spiritually. But I feel like I have grown so much in this area already that God will carry me through it in time.

Breathe. Overcome.

Overcome, overcame, overcomer... this is a trio of words that two friends consistently call me, or refer to as my words.  I hear them say this, I feel where they're coming from, but I don't always see it or feel it as truth.  

Here's a little story of the last 18 hours or so, and how I went from feeling defeated and overwhelmed to realizing that I really am an overcomer.  I apologize in advance if at the end it really was hard to follow or see the point.  But, I just need to type.

I never really chose these words as "mine" but they keep coming back again and again.  Now, yes, I have a relationship with God, but as many, I often have times hearing what he's trying to say to me.

I wrote recently about doorways, and how I'm closing one door from the manipulative marriage I was in, and moving forward to whatever is beyond the next door.   I have been through fires and trials, and somehow, I'm still able, most days, to laugh, smile, and relish in the many joys that God bestows upon me.  

Some days, though, I still falter.  I grapple with negative thoughts, fears, and worries.

This past week was a week filled with the grappling.  I've stayed up late mulling over the what-ifs and fearing what may or may not come in the future.  It's been EXHAUSTING.  I had a beautiful reprieve yesterday when I was able to spend a few hours with some long-time friends, allowing my children to play with theirs, and to voice some of these issues and talk through them without children in ear shot.

But for some reason, when I left their house last night and my children fell asleep in the van, they came flooding back, more intense than before.  Fears like... "if I were to die on a weekend, how long would it be before someone was wondering where I was, and how long would my children remain scared, hungry, tired, and alone."   

Now, this fear has plagued me since I first had a baby, and my husband worked overnights.  It would fall into the background from time to time, but it's always been there.  

When I finally returned home, the children were all still asleep, and I had a text from one of my friends who speaks "overcome" to me.  She was asking how I was, and my fingers flew across the keypad on my phone as I emptied my heart to her again.

I had been only half-clinging to God throughout the week, and more clinging to myself, my mind, my strength, my fears.  I knew it even if I couldn't say it.  But, then God reached out and grabbed me, and brought me back to Him.

She called, I didn't answer the first time, but she called again, and I laid down my pride and I answered.  She talked with me, let me cry, and prayed with me.  When she was done, a song I cling to that comes to me often at the perfect time, started on the van radio.  It was the first song I think I heard the entire drive home.  

"Lord, I need you.  Every hour I need you.  My one defense- my righteousness..."  It hit me, as it always does, like he was calling out to me to call out to Him.

She suggested I listen to one specific song when I got home.  I never got to it, unfortunately, because the three children all woke up very upset, and I went through and extensive bedtime routine before getting them to sleep.  At that point, I opened my Bible, which I have admittedly neglected this week, and began reading where I left off.

I laughed to myself as I realized God was showing me what just happened in the van, (as it has many times before) and how it's been His plan for me all along to have that sort of thing happen when I need it most.  As my friend says frequently, I'm not meant to go at it alone, after all.  It happens when I start feeling like I'm crumbling, I find a friend or two that build me up.   I sat there, amazed, though I shouldn't have been, I'm sure, by the verse.  I prayed then that I could be that person for someone else who may need it.  I still pray that.  I've always prayed that, actually.

I digress.  I then began apologizing to God for not trusting Him through the week and worrying so much about things I can't control, that He has under control, and things I can't begin to work on yet while I'm still before the next door in my journey.  I felt a sense of relief, and started sobbing. 

God often speaks to me through music, and right before my friend text me to check on me, I started humming a melody.  It took me only a few moments before I realized what song I was singing.  It's an old favorite called "Breathe on Me" by Jennifer Knapp.

The key lyrics that came to my mind were:

No temptation seize a man that he can't overcome.

Who am I to be fallen?

Crack your back on a slab of wood

come freedom, nail it down, I come crawling

I come crawling.

Come trickle down and save the world

two hands that I can't see

come breathe, come breathe, come breathe on me.

Split rib water, blood and bone,

come now, come Calvary.

Come breathe, come breathe on me.

Testimony come now quickly, whisper in my ear

Celebration

Peace at last not far away, 

empty sheet, a borrowed grave

Salvation

Come freedom come.

Exhausted, I fell asleep on the couch.

This morning, when I woke up to Norah in my bed, stealing my covers, I realized she had slept better last night, than she had in weeks.  She only woke up once (yes, she still sleeps like a newborn).   I went to church, excited as I am every Sunday for that last 8 or so months.

Two songs brought me to tears.  The first was the song that my friend suggested I listen to last night but never did, "Great Are you Lord," by All Sons and Daughters.

She even quoted it to me last night, "It's Your breath in my lungs."  Another breath related word.  Breathe is another message I find myself getting often because I really forget to breathe in the right air sometimes.  

The second song, talked was "No Longer Slaves" by Bethel Music.

You unravel me with a melody,

you surround me with a song

of deliverance from my enemies

til all my fears are gone.

I'm no longer a slave to fear,

I am a child of God.

As I mentioned, I have been dwelling on fears.  Last night, when we prayed, we prayed that be broken.  And here it was, again.  That, and the first line... that's totally me.  I already mentioned that also, God speaks to me through song quite often.  I find he speaks to me through song, through a few close friends especially, and through the Bible readings when I get over myself and my need to do other things with my time and sit down and read it.  I'm working on it.

Today, the message was about overcoming offenses.  I immediately flashed back to a book, "The Bait of Satan" that I had borrowed from my friend and read a few months ago. When I read that book, I felt such a release.  I forgave and moved on from offenses I had been holding onto at the time.  It was such a blessing.

I had said to my friend last night that I wasn't sure what else was burdening me, and we prayed I would see it so I could release it.

Well, there it was.  As soon as I saw the title of the sermon I knew.  I had latched on to new offenses since then, and I needed to overcome them.  A fresh freedom is what I needed.

So, I listened, reflected on the book and the message.  And when the pastor prayed, I released again.  I still need to work, I will admit, because some offenses run deeply. But, I truthfully don't want to hold onto them.  So, I'm working and praying on it in the days ahead.

He mentioned this verse:

This verse, for a few months, has been the screen lock on my phone.  "I have overcome the world."  I see it daily.  Today, I realized I have been seeing it, but I haven't been really reading it.

After church, my other friend said to me again, something along the lines of "how'd you like that?  It was your word again."

It was. 

I sit here, this afternoon, my children with their aunt and uncle a few hours so I can clear some of the clutter from our apartment, and I feel much lighter, not totally.  I still need to figure out what else is burdening my heart and work through it.  But, I'm sitting here with clearer mind, again, seeing my words.

Overcome.  Breathe.

I can do both.  I have done both.  God's done the overcoming for me and He's the air I breathe. 

And my weary heart is going to be okay.