I blame the kale.

All pre-chopped and bagged.
It’s why I took the kids into the store in the first place.

Have you ever been to Trader Joe’s? It’s—interesting. The layout is odd, it’s significantly smaller than I thought it would be, and the shopping carts are tiny.

On this morning, I plopped my three-year-old into the back of the cart and allowed my 5-year-old to ride along on the outside. You know. The way the little diagram on the seat warns against? Yep. That way.

It would have been fine if I hadn’t paused to grab the kale.

That light-weight shopping cart couldn’t handle the combined weight of both boys at one end, and in a flash, it flipped. The three-year-old rode it down and tumbled out with nary a scratch. (I think he enjoyed it). My five-year-old suffered two completely different injuries.

The first was physical. The cart landed on his arm. So minor it never even bruised.

The second was to his heart, and there was nothing minor about that one. He stood there, tears pooling in the eyes he refused to raise from the floor, saying, “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry, Mama” over and over. And because he is so much like me, I knew that his regret had as much to do with causing a scene—with “messing up”—as it did with the trampled flowers and flying strawberries.

Once I’d confirmed no one was bleeding, I sat right there in the middle of Trader Joe’s and whispered, “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident. I’m not upset. I think you’re awesome and I’m so glad you’re okay.”

I want my little man to grow up secure in the knowledge that there is nothing—NOTHING—he can do, that will ever change my feelings for him. He’s going to make messes and he’s going to get hurt, and he needs to know that I am always and forever going to be on his side.

But the truth was that even as I comforted my little guy, I was fighting the voices in my head. You know the ones who point out how everything you just did was W-R-O-N-G. The ones pointing out the workers righting the buggy, the shoppers pausing to see if the kids were okay, someone picking up the kale. All because of my mistake.

By the time we had finished shopping, the voices in my head were screaming. I was replaying the incident from the moment I put the boys in the cart, to the second I turned loose to grab the kale, to the fact that I was so focused on the kids, I never thanked the people who got the buggy back on its wheels or located my strawberries and how rude was that and was I teaching my kids to be ungrateful?

As we approached the cashier, a woman asked if the boys were okay. Then she did the craziest thing. She looked at me and said, “You’re such a great mom. The way you were comforting him . . . you’re doing a great job.”

I wanted to ask her if she’d noticed that I was the “great” mom who’d let her kids be mauled by a red shopping cart, but instead I mumbled something like “Thanks, just glad they weren’t hurt” and moved on before her words made me cry.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized what had happened. That my heavenly Father—who saw the whole thing go down and knows me better than I know myself—chose, in that topsy-turvy moment, to remind me that He thinks I’m awesome. And He used a stranger to say it for Him.

He knows that while I have no trouble believing He loves me when I’m singing praise songs with the kids or volunteering in Sunday school, it’s so much harder to believe when I’ve messed up. Dropped the ball. Blown it.

I don’t know how your Monday has been. How you’ve struggled. Where you’ve failed.
But this I know.
He loves you.
He thinks you’re awesome.

Zephaniah 3:17 – The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing. (ESV)

I Blame the Kale – What I learned about God’s #love in the produce aisle. #motherhood #faith (Click to Tweet)

***I want to apologize for my lengthy absence.  I spent three months frantically writing a novel and I have no idea what happened to the month of June! I’m hoping to be back here on a more regular basis in the weeks ahead.

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I saw it yesterday morning, green morphing into yellow.
And then, today, I saw the first to fall.
One lonely leaf, landing at the base of the tree.

I felt sorry for him. 

Imagine it. Poor guy burst out of a blossom a few months ago. He’s hung on through day after day of rain (we’ve had a lot of rain here in South Carolina this summer). He’s held on through storms that removed entire limbs that grew nearby. He’s endured the baking heat that finally showed up at the end of August.

My guess is that he was ready to hang on all winter, but…things changed.

Circumstances beyond his control took hold. Chlorophyll production ended, no matter how hard he tried to keep it going. And now, here he is, laying at the bottom of the tree, while everyone else is still clinging to the branches above.

I wonder if he feels like a failure. Weak for dropping so soon.

I wonder if he’s shocked to find himself on an unexpected path. He never imagined he’d touch the ground, or be the playzone for squealing toddlers, or find himself living out his days tucked in the bumper of a minivan or trapped in a gutter.

Sometimes I feel like that leaf. My guess is that you do, too.

Maybe you feel like a failure because life has gone off on an unexpected path. Circumstances you never wanted or planned for took hold of you and now?

You never imagined the divorce, the unemployment, the silence of an empty womb. You didn’t expect to be living out your days in a shelter or buying your groceries with food stamps. 
You didn’t anticipate the aging parent who has forever altered your perception of the term “empty nest” or the diagnosis that messed with your definition of “healthy.”  
You knew your children would never flunk a class or have a DUI or father a child out of wedlock, and no way you’d ever struggle to get out of bed or fear the depths of the night.

You were ready to hang on to life and make it awesome, but here you are, wondering how on earth you could have fallen so far.

We think falling is bad. A mistake. A catastrophe. A sadness. At times it is. 

But what if, like our leaf, the fall was not a disaster, but was simply the next step in fulfilling your purpose here on earth for this season.

The promotion that didn’t happen puts you on a path that leads to a co-worker’s salvation.
The child who broke your heart puts you on your knees and you find that prayer is more powerful than any other weapon in your arsenal.
The marriage that disintegrated, the finances in disarray, the depression that nearly destroyed you puts you in a place to be used of God in a way no one could have anticipated. Especially not you when you were young, green, and flapping high in that tree.

You aren’t the first to fall and this fall probably won’t be your last.

As you watch the leaves floating on the breeze, settling in the grass, being blown into piles, or ground into mulch, know that while they may be surprised to find themselves no longer flying high in the sky, they aren’t sad.
They are fulfilling their purpose and they find rest in that.

Oh that we could do the same.

Psalm 138:8 ~ The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands. (ESV)

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          I did not ….






If you want to read the rest of this post, you’ll need to pop over to my dear friend Lori Roeleveld’s fabulous site, Deeper with Jesus in Rhode Island. It is an indescribable honor for me to be guest posting there. 


Lori’s blog is the first one I recommend whenever someone asks me which bloggers I follow. If you’ve never visited her site, do it today. And go ahead and sign up to have her posts sent to your email. You’ll be amazed by the encouragement (and occasional kick in the rear!) you’ll find there!

The post Let Down appeared first on Lynn H. Blackburn.

I love hearing my kids find their voice as they learn to talk to God.

Emma goes for loud and proud. “Dear Jesus,” she’ll begin, then we usually get a nice pause. This is followed by her thanking Him for something about her day, or the food, or something really random like swings or a television show.
I know God looks forward to her prayers. I believe they make Him smile.

Then there’s James. At four, his prayers are already starting to sound like the prayers he’s heard. He’s likely to ask God to help us “have a great day” or “keep us safe” and he’s been known to throw in a request for frozen yogurt or a trip to the park. He also is starting to question things. 

He recently wanted to know why we say “Amen” at the end of our prayer. I told him what I’ve always been told, that “amen” means “so be it.” That went flying over his head, so I backed up and went with, “it’s a word we use to end our prayers.” He hasn’t started saying “goodbye” or “later” so I think he’s good with amen.

Of course, I imagine God cracking up as this little guy starts to have more of a conversation with Him. I think He loves the questions and looks forward to James coming to Him with more complex queries in the years ahead.

And then there’s Drew. At two, his prayers go like this…Dear Jesus…(long pause)…Amen.
It’s cute, right? Adorable really.
He’ll grow more verbose in the months ahead.

But I wonder if God kinda wishes he wouldn’t.

I wonder if He wishes more of us prayed the way Drew does.

Dear Jesus…(long pause…sitting quietly, waiting for Him) … so be it.

So often, I try to tell God everything I need, because I know what I need. I try to explain the mess, because I know all the ins and outs of the situation. I try to propose a solution, because I’ve been thinking about this for a while.

Wait…why am I praying again?

Maybe we could all take a lesson from Drew. Maybe we need to approach the throne, not with a laundry list of desires, but with one desire.

Dear Jesus…whatever You want…so be it.

Amen.

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My two-year-old learned a hard lesson this week.

Christians don’t get to take the summer off.

My dear friend, Ginger, and I are going to be working through a study on Gideon by Priscilla Shirer. (You can read the blog post from Beth Moore about it here). If you’d like some accountability (because I’m not pretending this is easy!) we’d love for you to join us. Get the book, and be ready to start next Tuesday. I’ll be blogging about it as we go through the summer.

The post Commit to Staying Plugged In This Summer appeared first on Lynn H. Blackburn.

As a Mother, I’m tuned to the needs of my children.

I know when the whining has more to do with hunger than attitude. When the fighting has more to do with cabin fever than hostility. When the drama has more to do with fatigue than the situation at hand.

As I tucked pillows into cases I could feel God’s whisper in my heart…

The post The Kids Need Rest appeared first on Lynn H. Blackburn.

Emma getting ready to flip over the bar.

Last Friday night, our family had the privilege of watching a Special Olympics gymnastics meet. There were many amazing moments—the flair each athlete brought to their floor exercise, the impressive balance demonstrated on the beam, the jumps on the vault, and our own Emma’s bar routine that she had mastered minutes before the competition began.

Me, Emma, and Brian – after the meet.

I thought about him again this morning as I read the story of Samuel anointing David to be king. Each time Samuel thought he’d picked the right son of Jesse, God said no, reminding Samuel that He was not interested in the outward appearance, but the heart.

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So many things are messed up. So many people I love are hurting. So many friends are broken.

And while I’m a lifetime member of the “I can fix this” club, there are some things I cannot fix. Some hurts I cannot heal. Some wrongs I cannot right. Some hearts wearing scars I cannot fade.

But I know Someone who can. So I pray.

And I pray.

And I pray.

When God answers, I rejoice.

When he doesn’t? I beat my head against the back of my chair and I look at my husband with tears streaming and I say, “I’ve prayed so hard. So hard. And it hasn’t done any good.”

I am broken.

And I cannot fix myself.

I have so much in common with Eve.

I think I know best. In fact, I think—although I never say this out loud because good Christian girls know better—that maybe God hasn’t thought this out as well as I have. Because if He had, He would agree with me. 100%.

I want my way.

And when God’s way makes no sense to me?

My faith cracks. Sometimes it’s a tiny fissure. Sometimes a gaping cavern.

Always it’s a wound. A wound that will not—cannot—heal without Him.

It’s at this point that I have a choice. We all have a choice.

We can stay broken, wounded, bleeding. Live out our lives miserable and bitter.

We can try to fix ourselves. Patch up the wound with whatever feels good. Cover up the scars with laughter and a heavy layer of denial.

Or we can let Him fix us.

We lay it all out there. Our hurt, our confusion, our anger, our desperation. We hold back nothing from Him.

We believe with the shards of faith we have left and we beg Him to help our unbelief.

And He does.

When He takes our broken pieces and puts them back together, the craziest things happens.

Our faith grows back . . . stronger than before.

But how do you do it? When faith stumbles? When belief wavers? When you don’t know where to start?

For me, it’s music. Songs that give voice to my pain and confusion. Songs that remind me of what I believe. Songs that help me worship when I don’t feel like it.

Here is my playlist for the broken. If you’re hurting today, I invite you to listen. Just listen. Let Him put you back together again. Stronger than before.

Abba – It hurts. So much. Nothing will ever be the same. It feels like nothing will ever be right again. We don’t understand. But we choose You. Over getting our way. Over what we think is best. Over having what we want. We choose You. We choose to believe that You are God and that there is no one like you. You are worthy of our praise. Father, we believe. Help our unbelief.

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Last week’s post – Are we taking the “RunPee” approach to the Bible? – generated some interesting feedback both in the comments and in person.
The basic gist of it was this….it’s all well and good to say we need to read and embrace all of Scripture, but we don’t want to just go through the motions.
How do you actually DO this?
To answer that question, I’m going to give you a brief rundown of what I do to help me through the more challenging parts of Scripture. It’s not the only way, but it works for me.
1. Pray about it. I know that sounds like the Sunday School answer, but it’s the most important and very first step. If you’re a believer, the Holy Spirit lives in you. He is more than willing to open your mind and eyes to the nuggets tucked away in random Old Testament passages. Ask Him!
2. Don’t panic. When you read three chapters in Leviticus and have absolutely NO IDEA what you just read…That is OK! Some days you’ll close your Bible and say, “Well, God, um, that was, um, well, I have no idea what that was!” Don’t let days like that make you feel like you’re missing something. Again, the Holy Spirit will show you what He wants you to see. Keep showing up and giving Him the chance!
3. Bible in Five videos. These videos, produced by Blackhawk Church (the people who developed the Eat This Book program we are doing this year) are fabulous. They help you get the big picture of the entire book, which makes it easier to see how it all fits, especially when you have a day where nothing makes sense!
4. Study Bible. I prefer to read out of a Bible with minimal notes, but I’ve recently pulled out our massive ESV Study Bible as backup! I usually read out of my Bible, but keep the study Bible nearby so I can check the notes when something is confusing. You can get a “personal size” ESV Study Bible from Amazon for $15. It contains all the notes in the regular ESV Study Bible and then moves some of the longer articles on-line where you get free access.  I haven’t purchased the personal size yet, but it’s just a matter of time.
5. Patience. Depending on your background, some of this stuff may not only be dry, it may be brand new. Think of it like building a house. You are laying the foundation right now. It’s not flashy. It can be downright boring. But you’ve got to have the foundation before you get to see the masterpiece the architect has designed.
I hope that helps! I’d love for you to share your favorite Bible study tips in the comments!

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How many times have you been sitting in a theater—jumbo Coke and large popcorn forgotten—trying to concentrate on the movie while another part of your brain is analyzing each scene for an opportunity make a mad dash to the restroom.

You can check to see when the best times are to “run pee” during the movie—then, when you have to make a dash, you know you aren’t missing anything important. The good folks at RunPee have determined which minutes you can miss without impeding your understanding of the story, and just to be sure, they provide a handy summary of what happens during your time away.

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