Always.

{I ran across this post on another blog I was writing a couple years ago and felt challenged.}

There's a sentence that has been in the front of my mind for a couple days now. I've been singing it in the car, singing it while I clean, and remembering it when I am faced with challenges and temptations.

It's simply: We are always before Your throne.

What's been amazing is how many ways the Lord has interpreted this to me.

For one, these words remind me of our dependency on Him. Hebrews 4:16 says:

"Therefore, let us confidently approach the throne from which God gives grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace in our time of need."

We are always before His throne in need of grace. Purity of heart for us means readily confessing our sins and remaining submitted to God's authority. If this is the case, we are always {repeatedly} before His throne, confidently seeking His grace because we have learned to trust He will be faithful to give it.

On another note, We are always before Your throne is a reminder that we are never acting outside of His gaze. We are never hidden from His sight. We always have an audience, even when we think we are most alone. This is a challenge to act in integrity at all times, because we will give an account of all of our actions and decisions. Hebrews 4:13 says:

"Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give an account."

This applies to our thoughts as well. NOTHING is hidden. Our most secret thoughts are laid bare before God and will be accounted for. In moments of weakness, it helps to remember we are always before His throne.

In the same way, this reminds us that none of our good deeds go unnoticed. When we act in Love for the benefit of others, they may never know. But God always does. And that is enough. To know that He sees and acknowledges our efforts in Love is all we need to know.

Lastly, I am reminded that He is always watching over us. We are always before Your throne. Always being looked after. He always sees us and is guiding us when we are submitted to Him. Always. Psalms 121:1-4 says:

"If I raise my eyes to the hills,
from where will my help come?
My help comes from ADONAI,
the maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip - 
your guardian is not asleep.
No, the guardian of Isra'el 
never slumbers or sleeps."

This is a promise that brings peace in every circumstance. We are always cared for.
Always: all the time; continuously; uninterruptedly.

How good it is to know: We are always before Your throne.

Unhinged

Unhinged.

That's a word I've used a few times in the last few days to describe how I'm feeling. Completely unhinged. I hesitate to write this, mostly because I'm someone who would rather keep the ugly off of social media. You know: Don't air your dirty laundry. But here's the deal, I also like to be real. And right now,  my real is real ugly.

My husband, Josh, is in Japan right now. That isn't the real ugly part. That's the exciting part. He's preparing the way for all of us to move in early spring. I can't wait. But the moment he left, the second he was gone, the attacks came from all sides.

I currently feel:

Incapable as a mother. Incompetent as a writer. Fake as a worshiper.

For some reason, our kids have let loose every possible strategy to make mommy pull her hair out. Let's be real, kids do that. I won't go into detail, but let's just say every button has been pushed, all my patience has been drained, and I feel unhinged. But that can't be all of it. That can't be the only reason.

I don't like feeling unhinged. In church this morning, I sat in the back. I always sit near the front. I love to worship and I love to listen to our pastor's sermons. I'm a note-taker. I'm a highlighting, reading glasses on, all my attention listener. Today I sat in the back of the sanctuary with a haze around my thoughts. I worshiped during that part of the service, because worship is like breathing to me - a natural response to being alive. But I felt that haze even then. Do you ever feel that? Kind of emotionless.... empty. I'm not particularly soft in the center naturally. Somewhere along the way, I became a fighter. In many way that's been a good thing. But lately, it's steeled my heart. And I don't like it.

I've been examining my heart, trying to understand myself. Am I depressed? I lost a baby a few months ago. The second mid-pregnancy loss in a row. I felt those babies move before they died. Am I grieving? I could be. Are my hormones still balancing? Yes. But I don't think that's it.

Josh is in Japan. Am I missing him. Absolutely. Through the best and through the worst, he is my best friend. When he's gone, I easily feel like I'm operating at 50%. But that's not it either.

That last one IS what drew me to the answer though. When Josh is gone, I feel like I'm operating at 50%. That isn't right. That's completely wrong. Because as much as I love him, Josh isn't my Source... and he'd say the same thing.

Here's what I am realizing. In the last few weeks, I've been neglecting God. I hear His call and I feel His beckon, but he's been brushed aside. And now I'm unhinged.

To me, worship has always been a lifestyle. It has very little to do with the music on Sunday morning, though I love that too. Worship is an attitude. It's a discipline. Worship is a lifeline. It's a daily practice. Worship is like breathing... a natural response to being alive. And I haven't been doing it. The more I've neglected worship, the farther I've fallen down this real ugly spiral. Because to worship is what I was created to do.

"All things have been created through Him and for Him..." Colossians 1:16 ...For Him. It's all for Him. I was created for Him. It has nothing to do with me. Its so so so much bigger than that. 

He is the Source and He is the reason. I believe that. God has placed eternity in the hearts of humans. Eternity changes our perspective. It's how I can say goodbye to my babies and still trust Him. It's how I can love people who hurt me. It's how I can admit when I've hurt others and ask for their forgiveness. It's how I can fight for my marriage and fight for my children's futures and write books. He's the whole point. Stray from that, and I'm asking for trouble. Stray from that, and I can't breathe right; can't feel right; can't mother right.


Tonight I'm listening to this one on repeat:

Paths.

I was thinking about Matthew 7:14. My son read it to us this afternoon and the images of the wide path to destruction and the narrow path to life have been cycling through my thoughts ever since. There are many obvious applications.

The wide path is crowded, masses following masses, not brave enough to step out and be different. 

The wide path allows for all appetites, with many temptations which are eagerly eaten up. 

The narrow path hedges you in, with little wiggle room inside God's perfect law that leads to righteousness. 

The narrow path gives no room for veering around obstacles. They must be faced head on for our maturity and growth. 

The wide path is easy, while the narrow is hard and few choose to follow it. Fewer still stay the course once they're on it. 

A word came to mind in reference to the wide path that will only destroy us.

Avoidance.

I can picture myself walking that path, sidestepping anything that makes me uncomfortable or asks to much of me. I see myself taking wide circles around pain and bowing out of situations that might hurt, but cause me to grow. Avoidance. On the wide path, we can avoid accountability, correction, and responsibility. We can choose to run from consequences. We can avoid truth and change it to what feels good, which is why sometimes the wide path looks strangely like a good place. A holy place. But avoiding truth and replacing it with one more comfortable is not holiness. It's avoidance, among other dangerous things.

Then I can picture the narrow path. There is no room for avoidance. When pain comes, we must wade through it. When responsibility arises, we have no choice but to rise and face it. Accountability is a given because we are living in 'tight quarters', walking a path so close that we are rubbing shoulders with one another, instead of avoiding uncomfortable conversations. Consequences for actions must be faced. There are no wide circles around sorrow. There is no opportunity to sidestep because we are hedged in by God's Word. Everything that comes at us must be faced head on.

And we are better for it. We are real, authentic, whole. We aren't avoiding and hiding and copping out. We produce life giving words because we've lived. We can be vessels of hope because we've had to rely on God's peace to sustain us. We know pain, so we can offer encouragement.

Avoidance is easier. It is more comfortable for the moment.

But only by living life can we gain it. We must be willing to face the truth and the pain and the shoulder rubbing to get to the joy and the grace and the hope.

The wide path leads to destruction and has no purpose, except to indulge in momentary pleasures. The narrow path is life lived fully... avoiding no thing that would draw us closer to Him. On the narrow path, your vision is singularly focused on His face. And you run like mad to get to Him, through whatever comes.

The Why.

Why.

The word touches our lips probably more than any other will in our lifetime. Why this. Why now. Why not. Tell me why.

It falls out of silent, gaping lips; tangled with painful, strangled weeping. It dances from laughing tongues, silly at the irony of life. Sometimes it tumbles through clenched teeth.

There's nothing wrong with asking why. Even Jesus used the word when he was in his dying moments on the cross.

"Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" He cried. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Why.

It is a natural part of the human experience to crave reason. To demand the meaning. When we experience pain, we need to quickly define it. Cast the blame. Give it purpose so it doesn't become a black hole that will consume and destroy us. It is a desperate attempt for comfort. And we all do it.

What would happen, though, if we set aside the why. Perhaps not for forever. Instead, for a moment. What if we set aside the why for the sake of grounding ourselves. Getting our footing. Why is shifty. The word tempts us to abandon. If we ask it in our most unstable moments, we are at risk. Why is not wrong. But it is to be handled carefully.

Instead, what if we pause. Close our eyes. Breathe. What if in our ugliest moments, in our deepest aches, we first pause to look at our Creator. What if we had our feet fitted with readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. Peace is grounding. It steadies our shaking limbs. Face to face, we stare into our Creator's eyes. It doesn't mean we say words. Sometimes we're too hurt to say anything at all. But we share a knowing look. We let Him see into our deep and we remind ourselves that He knows it. He's seen it before. He has experienced it.

We breath it in. The peace. We breath it into our lungs and let it absorb into our blood, our tissue, our cells. We wait. The waiting solidifies it, allowing our hearts to engage.

Then.

Then, when we've reminded ourselves who we are, children of the most high God, we begin to ask. When we let ourselves grip onto who He is, we breathe out the why. This time from a different place. Not from anger or hatred or doubt. But from brokenness. Brokenness doesn't bother Him.

He is the Great Repairer.

Show me.

It hurts, guys. I'm not gonna lie to you and make it pretty or poetic. Finding out that my womb may no longer be a safe place for children to grow... hurts.

I thought I ought to wait until the initial sting of loss had passed before I wrote this. But why? Isn't pain a universal language? Can't we learn and bond and grow together through it?

I went in for an ultrasound yesterday. I was 18 weeks and expecting to discover the baby's gender. My kids waited anxiously at home. My husband was asleep in Japan, expecting to wake up and learn great news. Instead, we repeated a nightmare.

This happened to us before. Four years ago I was 17 weeks and learned the same thing, staring at an ultrasound, knowing before they said a word. I remember the way the tech slowly turned the screen from my sight. They did that again yesterday. It wasn't until I sat down with my doctor that I was given the news straight up.

It hurts.

It will go on hurting.

I will be afraid to ever try this again.

But the only thing I can think today, over and over, repeating in my mind like a broken record, is this:

Show me Your glory.

God, show me what you can do with this. Show me how big You are. Show me. You don't have to convince me. I'm already convinced. Show me. I want to see it. I'm sitting on the edge of my chair.

My eyes are red ringed and my head aches from heaving sobs all night.

And I want to see it. What will You do with this? How will You use it? Oh, God, I can't wait to see it.

Show me. Show me.

I'll wait. I'll hurt and I'll heal. As long as You show me.

I want to see Your glory so bad it aches.

Cows are really good listeners.

Sometimes it's just too much. The demands of parenting and cleaning and homeschooling and creating... it grows to a steady roar, constantly filling my head and pushing me to the edge of sanity. {This isn't an exaggeration. Mom's globally, you get me.} Lately, I've allowed myself to shut off completely. Too much became too overwhelming and I just... stopped. Instead of handling this well, I just quit everything. I stopped writing, stopped parenting on purpose, stopped reading, stopped seeking God. It was easier to quit.

The other day, the kids were running around in the woods behind their Granddad's house and I slowly followed along behind them, trying my best to be alert and aware and appreciative of the natural world around me. The woods are small enough and fenced in, so I could let the kids roam free.

There is a hill in the back that leads to the horses yard. Near the top, my feet landed on this rock:

And this was my view:

Okay, minus the cow patties, it was perfect. With the kids in earshot, I found myself breathing deeper than I had in a while. There's something about the country. 

Then these guys showed up:

Who knew cows could be such good listeners? They kept creeping closer until finally they were right up against the fence. Well, until I moved, at which point they all took off running. Have you ever watched a herd of cows run scared? It's hilarious. 

I stood on the rock for a while. The kids would climb the hill, calling me to come join them. Most days that we are in the woods, I do. But this day I needed something I hadn't grasped yet. I encouraged them to go play and fixed my eyes again on the rolling hills. 

I prayed. Nothing fancy or scripted. Just...

What do You want to say to me? I'm listening.

I'd love to tell you I had a life-changing, mind-blowing encounter; something that was so monumental that my life will forever stay on track and I won't ever wonder or question again. 

But to be honest I don't think that's what God intends for us. The questioning and wondering and struggling is what defines our faith in the end. It amplifies the love story. If we never questioned, never wrestled with understanding, our faith would lose it's depth.

What I saw in front of me, the rolling hills and rocky bluffs and, yes, even the cow patties, was life. Life stretched before me like a great adventure. And the question that I received in response to my first was:

There is life stretched before you. What are you going to do about it? 

What I needed was perspective. I needed a glimpse at a bigger picture. Our singular lives become prisons when we lose sight of the bigger picture. The walls slide in around us, pressing us into a space too tight to function.

I had stopped writing because I was too overwhelmed. I had stopped reading books because I was too distracted. I had stopped reading my Bible because I was too frustrated. I had shied away from prayer because I didn't want to be corrected. And I was parenting and wife-ing on autopilot. 

I was choosing nothing. Doing nothing. 

Disappearing. 

But there it was. Life. Still waiting to be lived. 

We each stand on a rock with life rolling and stretching before us. It is wide and long and beautiful. It is full of barriers and pitfalls and cow patties. There are billions of people filling a diverse and beautiful and broken world, and we each have a part to play. 

"You are salt for the Land. But if salt becomes tasteless, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except being thrown out for people to trample on. You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Likewise, when people light a lamp, they don't cover it with a bowl, but put it on a lampstand, so that it shines for everyone in the house. In the same way, let you light shine before people, so that they may see the good things you do and praise your Father in heaven." 

Matthew 5:13-16

We were created for a purpose greater than ourselves. But we will never reach it sitting still, doing nothing, feeling sorry for ourselves, or quitting. Trust me when I say that I get it. More than I wish. What gets me is looking at my children. When they reach adulthood, will they look to me as an example of determination and life-living. Will I be that for them? In a decade, what will I have accomplished? And will it be an arrow pointing to God, or will I have gone my own way, ignoring the Gift-giver completely? 

It knots my stomach to imagine the latter. 

So I'm happy to say I have been thoroughly chided. I feel the weight of responsibility again that comes with realizing your gifts and knowing they aren't to be wasted. Life still demands so much, but the bigger picture is in my heart again. 

Oh, and I got these. So now I can see. That helps. 

Paper Kindling.

You know that moment in a project when you're like, Yeah, this isn't working. And you're tempted to scrap the whole thing and start over? Only, you've already put so much work into it that trashing the whole project feels a bit like homicide and starting over a bit like pulling teeth?

This was my struggle for the last couple weeks. 

As a writer, specifically an author of fiction, I get to these points in a story when I wonder what in the world I was thinking. The plot is all over the place and I can't get a read on the characters. The beginning was great. I was inspired and the words flowed out like water. But 20,000 words in (essentially 40 pages of a book),... I think I have never hated a story more. 

I have a feeling this problem plagues more than just writers. No matter what our craft is, at some point, we all want to tear the pages into teeny tiny pieces and use the scraps for kindling. <<< or is that just me?

Well, since you asked, here's how the problem worked out:

I tried a new thing. It's ground breaking folks, at least for me, so hang with me on this...

I kept going. (I know. Mind officially blown. <<< no sarcasm here. I won't tell you how many files are stored on my desktop... books I started and walked away from.)

I ended up pressing delete more than any other key, I re-wrote a few scenes, scrapped others. I started with 17,748 words written and at the end of the day finished with 16,378.  Looks like I'm moving in the wrong direction, but now I actually HAVE a clear direction to move in. I can move past the problem because I took the time to re-evaluate what I had in front of me. It was not easy deleting entire scenes. I hesitated. (My son loves that word right now. He'd be really excited I used it. He asks me questions then says, "You hesitated." Thank you, Olaf.)

Yes, I hesitated, but once the task was done, it felt oddly FANTASTIC. Yes. It felt empowering. No longer was I bond to loyalty to the words I'd written. I was in charge. I chose who stayed and who went. I felt like this guy: 

And I may have done a few impersonations. 

At the end of the day, I walked away feeling like I'd grown as a writer. It takes a while to get comfortable with the process of revising. But if I ever want to accomplish anything as a writer, I have to accept that everything that my fingers type is not instant gold. And I have to learn to push forward and stick with a project; to see it to completion. 

So there that. :)  

FREE book!

Hi, friends!

Today and tomorrow my first book, To Be Free, is available for FREE on Amazon! I'm so excited about the positive feedback I've received from so many of you who have taken the time to read and review! It means so much to me!

To Be Free is a story of young woman lost in grief. As she navigates nightmares and roller coaster emotions, the ache inside of her never relents. A new neighbor brings hope in the form of friendship, family, and a different perspective on God then she'd ever known. Her stubborn views are challenged simply by the way Vin unconditionally cares for her.

The idea for this book came after a period of loss in our family. I watched people I love struggle through grief and I began imagining what it must be like to wade through that without the peace of God.

I hope you enjoy reading To Be Free and don't forget to follow it up with the sequel, To Be Loved! Available NOW on Amazon Kindle for $2.99!

In Love always,

Laura

Remembering...

It's been four years almost to the date. In the final days of September 2010, I was 17 weeks pregnant with our third child. Or so I thought. The bleeding was the first indication that something was completely wrong. I rushed to the hospital and called my husband, who was, at that moment, over 1,000 miles away.

My mom and I sat and waited for me to be taken back for an ultrasound. When the kid finally came to wheel me back, there was a growing feeling of foreboding in my chest. I knew.

The ultrasound tech said very little and at one point turned the screen so I couldn't see it. I'm sure she was trying to shield my emotions, or perhaps she just didn't know how to handle the dread she may have felt for me. Avoidance is always easier.

When the doctor entered the triage room with a woeful expression, I knew my fears were about to be confirmed. Spontaneous abortion, miscarriage, fetal demise. All of these terms were used at different moments as the reality that I'd lost the baby was explained to me. It turned out, the baby had been gone for 2 weeks already. This explained why, when I'd been sitting near the fireplace a week before and rubbing my stomach, I'd noted that I hadn't felt much activity. A week before, we'd also toured a castle that was nestled between New York and Canada. I'd taken the elevator because of cramps.

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I know so many women who have lost pregnancies, some who have suffered still births, and others who have lost the baby they'd already had the privilege to hold. We discovered, a couple weeks after my 4 day hospital stay, that our baby was a girl. We named her Hannah Grace Teague. The names Hannah and Grace both carry a meaning of 'favor'. I wanted to name a daughter this for forever. First Abigail, which is the name of our first daughter, then I wanted a Hannah. The day I found out our baby had been a girl, that dream came true.

I write this to you, women familiar with suffering. The loss of a baby at any stage in his or her life is a mark of suffering. In time, God has healed our gapping wound, but the scar will always be there and there will always be a part of my heart that is waiting to meet Hannah. Please, I beg you, do not be silent in your suffering. The statistic is that one in four women will experience a miscarriage. Some will experience more than one. The habit of women is to suffer silently, not wanting to burden those around them with the sadness they're feeling and the emptiness they are falling into. Friend, I feel your pain. I know that ache in your chest that feels like it's become an extension of who you are.

The experience of miscarrying is now forever one of the greatest testimonies to my walk with God. You see, I was born into Christianity. I was raised in church. While others are more skeptical and struggle to believe the words taught through the Bible, it always came naturally to me to trust it. Still, there needed to be a defining moment for me when I really chose it; when I knew, without a doubt, that I was in for life. God is just and He is good. He took my pain and used it to draw me closer to Him, if I would so choose to let it. I distinctly remember a choice. I remember a quickening in my heart that, if it had been any louder, was almost audible. I became very aware that I had to choose one of two things: despair or worship. Do I bury myself in my pain and let it consume me? Do I become angry with God and shut him out?

Or do I find the strength to worship through it? I chose to worship, and God chose to pour out his love and peace into my life. I felt Him more then than I ever had in my life to date.

In my mind, I vividly saw an imagery that has never left me. I won't call it a vision, but it was definitely an image God was planting in my head to strengthen me, then and for forever. In my mind, worship became a weapon, and depression and despair the enemy. I saw a woman, much to brave to be me, clothed in armor and wielding a powerful-looking sword. Each choice to trust was a slash to the enemy. Every word of belief was a stab to it's heart. A warrior, with a tear-streaked face, fighting desperately for her life. The harder she fought, the stronger she became - infused with the Spirit of God and armed with His Word.

You, beautiful woman, are that warrior. You, beloved mother, have a choice. And imagine an army of women, all choosing worship, bound together by our pain.

Please do not hide your story. If you share your experiences, others become brave enough to share theirs. And for them, it might mean freedom they've desperately needed.

He sees you. He knows you. You're never left alone.

I'll fight beside you. I'll worship with you, desperately fighting for your life.

Always,
Laura

Tomorrow... Only a day away.

I'm waiting anxiously for the season to officially change in Oklahoma. Yes, it's October 8th so technically it's been fall for a little while now. However, if you step outside the door you'll be greeted by thick, humid air and what is forecasted to be a 90 degree day. Those of you who are already wearing thick coats and beanies... I envy you.

But isn't it so typical? Isn't this what we do? We find what's wrong with the right now and sit around longing for tomorrow. I mean, in a few months, when we're stuck in our house because the mid-west was hit by another ice storm, we'll be crying for summer again. That's just what we do.

I don't know about you but I sure miss out on today when I'm craning my neck and crying for tomorrow. {Whoa, that just turned heavy.}

Truly, though. What about contentment? People who are successful, people who achieve their goals, people who do great things and make a difference: are people who have learned the art of contentment. If I'm too busy pacing around, scatterbrained about what's coming next and not focusing on what's right in front of me, I won't ever get anything accomplished. As a writer, I have to be content where I'm at in the process. This is tough for me, especially when I'm first starting a project. I want to see the meat of the story coming to life RIGHT NOW! {Okay, to be honest, often times in writing I do jump the gun and write that scene I just can't wait for way ahead of time. But that's a strategy that works and well... another topic.}

The point is, yes. It's still hot out. But in just a short matter of time, it will be cold. Then I'll wish it was hot. Then I'll wish it was cold............................

Be content. Right now. Where you're at. That doesn't mean don't DO anything. That means do what is right in front of you NOW. Then the next step will be able to come in it's perfect time.

5:30am

It's almost 7:00am as I'm typing this, but I started the day at 5:30. Before you go admiring me for being an early riser, let me stop you. I'm not. Even now, an hour and a half in, my eyes keep peering over at the bedroom door and grow heavier with the desire to sleep as they do. I won't go to bed. But I sure want to.

That's the difference, I think. Attitude. Decisiveness. Determination.
You see, I'm changing the way I look at this morning person or not morning person thing. Because I'm finding it's not really about that. It's about WHO I want to be in the great story of my life.
Will it be a great story at all? And what makes it great?

There are people in my life right now that are making a difference. {And I guarantee most of them get up early.} It might be a small difference, or it might be a move to the other side of the world and shake things up difference. There are many of them. And for a long time now - years, really - I've felt that these people are in a different league then me. I've sat on the sidelines in my "mundane" "normal" life and longed to be like them. I've longed to walk beside them and sit in cafes and enthusiastically tell our stories and experiences and adventures and feel a genuine camaraderie with this species of world-changing powerhouse superhuman. I've longed, but that's the extent of it. Because truth be told, I'm by nature a hermit. I'm socially awkward and uncomfortable and it's SO much safer for all of us if I stay shut away at home where I can't generally screw things up and say the absolute wrong thing or get red-faced when I'm greeting someone familiar I bumped into at the store.

Excuse me, but: What a load of crap.

No, Seriously! I have spent YEARS of my adult life now hiding. I have accepted that I am too awkward and that I make other people uncomfortable because of it and that I'm a waste of their valuable time and energy. I genuinely, GENUINELY, believed that.

I do not write that for your pity, so put away the tissues and hugs ;-) I'm writing it because I KNOW I'm not the only one who's ever felt that way.

The only thing that will make our stories great is if we stop letting dumb, stupid, ignorant lies control our ever move. Listen, I'm honestly worked up about this. It gets at me. When you realize how much time you've wasted and how many people you've grown distant from, all because you've let yourself believe you're just not worth it, it should bring up some feelings.

Embrace those feelings! And let them usher in change.

I woke up at 5:30am when I normally wake up closer to 9am as an act of defiance, albeit a little one. And at the same time, an act of surrender.

I am defying the lies. I am waking up hours before my kids so that the first moment they lay eyes on me, it will be a revved up me who's spent time in the power-infusing presence of God and not a defeated me who's dragging herself around and wishing the day would fly by so I can hide in sleep again. I'm defying my own nature and forcing myself to examine who I am and who I want to me.

And I'm surrendering my sleep so I can give God the first hours of my day. So I can change. I'm surrendering all the things I've believed about myself for a really, really, really long time.

Whether or not I'm a "morning person" plays no part in this. Am I existing just to keep myself safe and comfortable? Or am I making every. single. moment. count. for something OTHER than ME.

I raise my glass of Matcha to you, friends. Here's to living on purpose.

The Lego Theory

So those of you with children will {hopefully} understand. Or perhaps hopefully not. Hopefully your kids are the image of obedience, honest to a fault, and never give you reason to lecture. I mean that genuinely. {No sarcasm intended}

Our kids are incredible. They're funny, smart, exceptionally witty and never ever boring. They are also humans. And they mess up. {Shocker! I know!} 

I was sitting in front of our 6 (1/2) year old son and trying to come up with something motivational to say to him to help him make some better choice. His choices as of late have been... well... 

I look over the room and what do I see EVERYWHERE {just waiting until night falls so they can assault my feet}? Legos. 

Ok, I've got this, I think to myself.

Colton, your life is like a giant lego project. Do you know what kind of man you want to be when you grow up? 

I get answers like: BRAVE, A MAN WHO LOVES GOD, A GOOD HUSBAND, A DAD... 

After my heart is done swelling with pride, I tell him this:

Every choice you make from this moment on is like adding another lego to your man. You're building him, you see? You and God together. Only the right legos will build that man you have imagined in your head. Good choices get you closer to being that man, bad choices mean you have to take a bit of it apart and start that section over. 

The truth is, we all have a vision for who we want to be when we grow up. I know I'm not yet who I want to be. I make bad choices. I have to back up and remind myself who I'm trying to become. Now, it's inevitable that we're gonna mess up. We're human. What's important is that we learn from that mistake and become better lego builders... I mean, oh you know what I mean.

This is so very relevant for me right now in my ambitions. As a writer, I'm one step closer to my goals when I sit down and hash out some words or jump on a promotional page and introduce my work. I'm stalling my progress when I rush things and release a work to soon, just to find it riddled with errors, or I procrastinate and watch too much Doctor Who instead of working. {I'd never really do that......}

Life is like a box of legos. You've got to add the right blocks to get the right results. 

Better than life.

As I sit enjoying my Saturday with my children re-enacting Star Wars around me and my husband resting off this virus we've all been fighting this week, I'm - hang on I need to correct my kid.................. - okay, where was I? Oh right. I'm so happy.
Seriously!
The good, the bad, the really bad, the ugly... it's life. It's living. I'm so happy to be living!
I get angry sometimes. I get irritated and rude and out-of-line.
I also get repentant and I get humbled.
I have giggle fests with my family of four after one of our kids says something hilarious - they are the funniest people - or after my hubby tells a ridiculous story.
I get to see people changing and growing and maturing... and sometimes that gets to be me!

Life is, well, all inclusive!
You have to have the good.
You also have to have the bad to enjoy the good. To appreciate it.

This week we were all sick in different increments with a variation of viruses. There were some bad days in there to be sure. Now I'm dealing with a huge spider bite on my leg and a possible torn muscle in my calf. (Same leg, by the way).

But I'm so happy!

My favorite verse for, well forever, has been:

Psalm 63:3
"Because Your love is better than life, my lips will praise You!"

That's the key for me!

God's love surrounds me and fulfills me and corrects me and changes me.

That's the greatest good there is!

Make today a good one!

Always,
Laura :)

Meaning.

What makes life meaningful?

I ask this because it's my birthday and that's what you're supposed to do, right? Reflect?

I haven't shared this very often or to too many people, but it's what keeps popping into my head today, so here goes.

Four years ago, we lost a daughter to a mid-pregnancy miscarriage. Technically it was too late in the pregnancy to be called a miscarriage. It was one of the hardest things my husband and I have been through together. I spent 4 days in the hospital and had my first emergency surgery during that stay. Why in the world would I bring this up on a day like today..my birthday???

Because that was one of the most significant times in my walk with God. There have been several times in my 28 years that I've petitioned for God's peace. I've begged and snotted and cried out for it. But that day, the day I couldn't even muster the strength to ask, He breathed His precious Holy Spirit over me and I didn't even have to. He knew I wasn't strong enough. And like a loving Father, he knew what I needed and just met me where I was. It changed my life. Seriously.

You see, I agree that the beautiful, happy, celebratory moments bring so much joy to life. The moments that we spend cuddling our kids and giggling together bring fullness.

But what brings meaning?

I think what brings the most meaning is the nights I spend nursing my sick kids who are puking and crying and need tummy rubs when my eyes don't want to stay open.

I think what brings meaning is the hug that comes after making up from a big fight with your spouse.

I think meaning is long all-nighters working for your dream and persevering even when you're ready to scream so that one day you see it all come to life before your eyes.

Meaning is spending grueling hours working under the hot sun in a garden, to finally one day reap a harvest.

I think meaning is found when you have a complete mental breakdown over health issues that lasts weeks or months and your parents still look at you with respect and understanding in the years following (true story).

Meaning is discovered when the only way you make it through the day is with a silent "Help me..." prayer and you do, day by day, make it.

And I am still finding so much meaning in the fact that in the moment of our biggest loss, God had me. I was safe, tucked in His love, and He didn't make me beg for comfort. He just knew.

Meaning is so often found in the hardest times. Don't despise your struggles and the things that break you down. Allow the process to play out. If you'll cling to God (and by cling I mean holding on desperately until your knuckles turn white and your finger are aching, but you DON'T LET GO) I PROMISE that somewhere down the road He will help you find the meaning in the pain. Doesn't mean He caused it, it means He was there, rooting for you and loving you, and can cause good to come from what was meant to harm you.

He'll give it meaning.

What is your work really worth?

I've read posts by other creators and artist who say "You have to value your own work, or no one else will..."

When I first pushed 'Publish' on KDP and allowed Amazon to make my first book available to the world (literally), I was nervous. Words are so personal, even in fiction. How will the world receive them? I did a little research on how to price my book and ended up pricing it at the lowest possible price where I could still benefit from the 70% royalties. $2.99. There wasn't any kind of strategy in this. I was simply afraid that if I priced it any higher, no one would buy it.

Over the last couple months, I have uploaded the book again, correcting minor grammatical errors I had missed (self-publishing with no budget also mean self-editing until you have a team of beta readers who agree to do that for you...). My very first review was a 5-star from someone I'd never met. That's when it started to hit me, that perhaps I needed to start believing in my talent and trusting I was on the right path. It was exciting!!!

In June my sales started to plummet. The longest stretch without a single sale happen near the middle of the month. 9 painstaking days without a single sale.

I couldn't figure out what was going on. I had earned 12 reviews (nothing monumental but a great start!), all of which were 4 or 5 stars. I knew people were enjoying the book. So why the drop in sales?

Then I read a blog from a successful KDP author. He did an experiment, slowly raising the price of his book and what he found was a turning point for both him and me.

When you price your work too low, be it books or photography or paintings, people will see how much you value it and will do the same. Just like enthusiasm is contagious, so it the value you place in your art. This author saw an immediate increase in sales simply by pricing his books at the value he believe they deserved.

I did this. I only took a small step, raising my price by $1 to the grand total of $3.99/book. The result was surprising. Where as I only ever had POSSIBLY one book sale a day, now I have multiple sales a day!

Don't be afraid to place a higher value on the work you are doing. Don't sell yourself short because of fear! Be confident in your work and allow others to be as well.

Love always,
L

Oh, the places you'll go! -Dr.Suess

Well it's been a few days since I've been on here!

We are busy with life and our evenings with VBS.

I wanted to share some pictures with you today. 

Here they are!

(Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan)

(I took this from the top of Iwatayama Monkey Park in Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan...this guy was chillin..)

(Taken in Mino Park)

 (Also taken in Mino Park. These little ones were EVERYWHERE!  :-) )

My world expanded when my husband and I took a trip to Japan this last April. 

Before then, I'd only been to Guatemala (at least in the years I'm able to recall the memories. I don't remember being in Germany as a baby...). 

The trip to Guatemala was equally eye opening!

We forget, I think, that beyond our comfort zone is a huge world that was created by God for us to see, experience, and enjoy. 

There are things that our eyes will never see unless we get on a plane and go somewhere far, far away.

Places I still want to go are:

Israel
Eastern Europe
China
Vietnam
Australia
Canada
Alaska
and
Somewhere really tropical :)

I would challenge you to travel. Whether it's within the borders of your country to places you've never seen,

or to a completely different continent to places you never knew existed, PLEASE travel. 

You'll be glad you did :-)

Always in love,

L

Value.

In my book To Be Free, Annora addresses her struggle with social anxiety. This is in no small part because it gives a more concrete depth to her reclusiveness and the level of grief and loneliness she feels over the loss of her parents. People who struggle socially tend to grieve more tragically. 

As a teen, I dealt with a hearty dose of social anxiety. It stretched far into my 20's and has been a factor in many relationship struggles, both romantic and in friendships. 

I tried for years to understand why I had such a hard time with it. In high school I had friends, dated, and went to school functions. I was involved in choir and other activities. But inside, I was absolutely and constantly terrified. Every blunder stayed with me forever. Every awkward moment scarred me. I can still recall them! I spent a lot of time walking fast, trying to look busy, or, on the worst days, hiding in the bathroom until lunch was over because I was too afraid to approach anyone to ask to sit with them. 

Did people treat me badly? No.

Had I done something to shame myself? No.

But for some reason I was always scared. 

Why is it that some people can't seem to loosen up and feel comfortable in their own skin?

Why is it that some people, like me and others I've talked to, analyze every word they say and torture themselves over even the smallest inflection?

I'm pushing the big 3-0. I've hit a point in my 20's when I am now seeing it in the distance and realizing that life moves so so fast and I want to grow and be and live. 

In that desire to live fully, I've learned something about myself, and possibly other's who struggle socially. 

While I have always valued the people in my life, I have not always valued my place in their's. 

Let me explain.

If you don't believe you matter to people... 

If you don't think people really care about you...

If you are convinced people just put up with you...

If all you do is focus in on what you can't do and ignore what you can:

You will ALWAYS be afraid. 

I realized looking back that my problem wasn't whether or not people cared about me or were genuine friends, ect.. my problem was that I didn't value myself.

I believed myself to be disposable.

I believe I was everyone's second choice.

I believed I was just making a fool of myself.

I believed that once I made a mistake, there was no redemption for me. That the blunder defined me, no matter how small or insignificant it might have been.

I couldn't see what I was good at because I was staring at all the things I was terrible at.

I know I'm not the only one who felt like this. 

I know there are others who feel this way now.

Here's what I would say to you:

You have to believe you are worth knowing. 

You have to believe that God put you on this earth intentionally,

and that that places a value on you that is untouchable.

You have to remember that we were all given gifts (talents, abilities) and they MATTER and are NEEDED.

You have to remember that because you DO have a purpose, 

there will be opposition to that and that making you feel insignificant and unworthy is just one tactic to make you QUIT.

Remember who your enemy is. God is your greatest ally and the devil (yes, satan, the devil) is your greatest enemy. There is a spiritual battle being being fought over you. When you give in to feeling insignificant you are laying your purpose down and the enemy just laughs at you and chalks it down as a point in his favor. 

Don't let that happen. 

So, friend, lift your head and wipe off your apprehension. 

Smile and remind yourself that you are important, needed, and here ON PURPOSE. 

Value yourself. 

What you bring to the world really matters.

We need you.

A Writer's Obligation...

Yesterday evening I spent a couple hours at the library with my laptop and my headphones.

I try to do this as often as I can, it's my favorite place to write at the moment.

It's hard sometimes because a place will inspire me for a while, 

then suddenly one day I won't be able to focus there anymore. 

I was sitting by a large window in the corner of the library; the US History section. 

Directly in front of me was a small round table for the purpose of studying. 

I was about 1000 words in and feeling warm and fuzzy and inspired, 

when a woman and her son sat at the table. 

"How sweet." I thought, as I watched him open his book and begin to read.

"She's going to study with him."

I focus my eyes on my screen again. 

A minute later - above my music - I hear a loud, irritated voice.

I look up to see the mom is on the phone, clearly joining a friend in a fuss over someone, all hand-gestures and accusing eyes and sharp words.

I look around to check if anyone else is seeing what I'm seeing or hearing what I'm hearing.

The only person around ducks into an aisle, hiding from the disruption in the How To section. 

I do my best to ignore the noise. 

I do my best to not roll my eyes or huff.

I keep my body language under control and, eventually, the annoyance recedes and I just block her out.

Not two minutes later, a no-older-than three year old comes running past me. 

Thirty seconds later, he runs past again. 

He's doing laps. 

Thirty more seconds pass, but this time I heard him coming.

He's yelling...no...screaming in glee as he runs. 

This goes on for at least five minutes.

I want to say, "Is this the library?! Can't a girl get some peace and quiet?!" 

But I don't and I just try my best to block it out. 

Then something hits me and I pause Ellie in my headphones and listen to the noise around me. 

I look up and discreetly glance around, taking it all in. 

I realize that this is the stuff that makes life interesting. Sure, it's not always pleasant, but it's life and it's being lived right in front of my face. As a writer, I have an obligation to take it in. Not block it out. This is the stuff that makes stories rich and people unique. 

Before long I'm smiling each time the little boy superman's past my chair. 

I smile at the lady with the cell phone when she gets up to leave. 

Life is being lived by everyone around me and if I pay attention, I get to join in.

Always in love,

L  

Be nothing.

You're perfect. 

You're wonderful.

You're doing everything exactly right, don't change a thing.

You can do no wrong.

Those sound really nice, don't they?

That's what we want to hear, affirmation.

But affirming what?

Affirming our own personal belief that we've arrived, that we have peaked at perfection?

Sometimes phrases like that are important to hear. 

Women, you are perfectly made by a perfect creator. 

But does that mean you don't have any room to improve on yourself 

where your imperfect human nature has done some damage?

Men, you are wonderful. You were made glorious and strong and brave.

But does that mean that in your faulted humanity you never fail?

It's OK to receive encouragement.

But be careful you aren't purposefully aiming to surround yourself only with

those who will feed your ego.

None of us are perfect. 

We need people around us who will challenge us and who are committed to 

our growth just as we are committed to their's. 

Constructive criticism (given with good intentions) is just as important as praise. 

Without it we never change. 

We just stay in our muddled state of lack because we can't see ourselves clearly enough to 

improve. 

True friends show us the things our own eyes have missed. 

Choose wisely if you want to be something. 

Always in love,

L

Shoes.

I can't tell you how many times I've been frustrated because the things I 

thought I was ready for just weren't happening.

I'd pray: God, I'm ready for this! Please! I'm ready.

But nothing would happen and I'd start to wonder if He even believes in me.

Did I do something at some point in the past that made Him decide I wasn't 

cut out for the job? 

Why is everyone else advancing, succeeding, doing, experiencing...

and here I am... nothing. 

I've been there.

For LONG periods of time.

God, when will life change? 

When will things start looking up???

So today I saw this:

Our daughter is 5. 

She wants to be 25.

(It's actually pretty hilarious half the time.)

She was playing quietly for a while, so I thought, 

when she came wobbling out of the bedroom in my shoes. 

"Look at me, Mommy!"

Of course I told her she was beautiful. 

But I also told her to be careful; that her feet weren't quite big enough to fill those shoes...

and that she might fall. 

mmhmmm... yep. You got it. 

It hit me like a wave of perfect clarity. 

He does believe in you. He does want to use you. 

Maybe your feet just aren't big enough to fill those shoes yet.

Maybe you still have some growing to do.

I know I do!

I look back now on those times when I was stomping my feet and begging to be used

and I kind of laugh to myself. 

Thank you, God, for making sure my feet are always grown enough to fill the shoes I'm needing to wear. 

#maturity