Wholly Yours, Holy One

(Yet AGAIN, I'm posting this several hours after I wrote this)

After two hours of arguing over the matter, Paxton is finally down for a nap! Yes, it’s too late for a nap and he probably won’t want to go to sleep on time tonight but I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Sometimes the little victories need to be celebrated in life. Also an accomplishment, I’m finally starting to feel really cozy here. This has various meanings, but right now it means burning a candle that smells like Christmas (yes, it’s premature) since there is simply no feasible way that we are going to have a tree this year while eating some delicious tomato basil soup. I’ve also been stocked up on eggnog for about two weeks now. The holidays never had too much significance in the past, but these days the concept of them has taken on a whole new meaning. It took a while before I was really able to fully feel like a family with Paxton, it was as if he was some sort of extension of what I consider to be my immediate family (Mom, Dad, and Madison). And while he certainly is that, he is also my “new” family. That might not make a whole lot of sense when put into words, but basically, for a good while I felt sort of awkward about being young and single, like I was somehow excluded from the “Mom’s club” or that he wasn’t entirely mine. I’ve encountered moms that are condescending because of my life stage, but I just remind myself that no one really knows what they’re doing when it comes to parenting. It’s something we figure out along the way. I am no less significant in Paxton’s life and no less of a parent because of my age.

Anyways, I think in general Moms are way too hard on themselves. I was reading an op-ed piece by feminist Erica Jong (find it here) she touches on the new fad of attachment parenting and what it means to be a mother in today’s world. She definitely makes some valid points as to how destructive it is to constantly rescue a child from making their own mistakes. Of course babies want to be held all the time, but when we give into their every desire, we’re not best preparing them for a world that is no stranger to rejection and hurt. I know that if Paxton does have a similar temperament as his mother, hovering is probably the most volatile thing that I could do. We can’t prevent their every misstep, and it really isn’t our responsibility to do so. Don’t misunderstand me, I’ll still be Mamma Bear, but I also know that it is a great disservice to Pax if I don’t encourage self-sufficiency and acceptance of responsibility when necessary. Jong raises important questions about the pressures that we as mothers feel but I don’t agree with her every opinion – she somewhat condemns cloth-diapering, baby wearing (it’s an odd term – the concept of having baby strapped to Mom/Dad as a way to increase bonding) and homemade baby food, all of which we do or did.

For us, the Green Movement is an important commitment that we’ve made, one that I really wish that more Christians would take initiative in. It isn’t always the most convenient solution but we were only given one Earth, and it isn’t someone else’s duty to take care of it. Everyone generates waste, and as technology brings us closer and closer to being able to reduce the negative impacts that we have on nature, I don’t think it’s ethical to try and pass that torch along to someone else. Moms are among the most wasteful of them all. Disposable diapers take up to 500 years to decompose in a landfill. In a baby’s first year alone they will go through an average of 2,788 diaper changes. So, as a response to Jong, I don’t feel that my involvement in the Green Movement is somehow disabling me as a woman nor trapping and oppressing me as a Mother. Ideals on parenting will always be at the forefront of society because humans are constantly breeding. Paxton and I are content doing things one way but I’m okay with the fact that our way wouldn’t work for a lot of others. Motherhood can be a time of great insecurity or an opportunity for uninhibited empowerment. As most things in life, it’s what you decide to make of it.

Woo, that was a much longer rant than I had intended on! Sometimes I just get too excited about certain subjects. Speaking of, one topic that I’m particularly fired up about right now is Sozo. Let me explain. It all started with Bethel church’s Sozo ministry. After hearing such great stories of restoration, my church decided to adopt it as well. “Sozo” in Greek means “to save, to heal, to deliver.” Basically, it’s an inner-healing ministry which seeks to identify anything that might be impeding one’s ability to connect with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This takes the form of a two-on-one session that pairs two intercessors with one person who is seeking restoration. The session is essentially a conversation with the Holy Spirit in which the person in question talks openly with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. It is typically led by questions from the intercessors, which help to pinpoint any broken aspects of these relationships. The Father is compared to our image or concept of our earthly father, Jesus to a sibling, and the Holy Spirit our Mother. It isn’t all solely based on these perceptions, but because there are often broken aspects of these relationships, they are important to consider. There were areas of conflict in my life that I wasn’t even aware existed and repair was quickly delivered. My experience was based heavily on images of holiday cheer that kept flashing through my mind. The Lord began to reveal to me that the sort of joy that is experienced during the Christmas season is obtainable all throughout the year, and what’s more is, I heard Him whispering to me that He desperately desires that constant joy and wholeness for me. The time spent allowed me to drive out many of the lies the enemy tells me that so often cloud my vision.

To continue sentiment of exuberance, a few days before my Sozo session, in the midst of a rather weary period, I finally decided that in an effort to eschew the negativity that was surrounding me, I would take the simple step of opening my curtains and let the light in. Upon doing so, I was flooded with this indescribable elation. I felt a maniacal sense of happiness and relief. It was as though I had taken a two-week vacation and was returning with a renewed sense of hope and optimism.

He is the Cleanser of spirits and Deliverer of Truth. He has spoken sweet words of encouragement and been faithful in the acknowledgment of my prayers. Holy Spirit, I am grateful for your presence. Thank you for pronouncing purpose over our lives.

To eternal Thanksgiving,

Lauren

(Again, this is one that I started on Friday and hadn’t gotten around to posting until now)

Sitting here on the couch in my living room, 7:00 feels like midnight. Pax and I are going to a party later, so I’ve put him to bed early so that he won’t miss an opportunity to entertain in a couple of hours. He is much better at parties than I am…what a strange realization to have about an eleven month old. Babies may be the most unpredictable of all humanity, but there are a few things that I know to be true about P, like that he prefers his deli meats for lunch, not dinner, or that telling him “no” is the equivalent of begging him to do something. He’s one strong-willed little dude and I have no doubt that he’s going to be one of those kids that never says no to a challenge. I recognize many of his character traits as ones that I too possess so I know that this journey is going to (at the very least) be an interesting one.

When I was younger, I spent a lot of time comparing myself to my big sister. I was absolutely convinced that my parents loved her more because she was more inclined to follow the rules. Even though Paxton and I are beginning to face some challenges in the way of obedience (to the extent that he can comprehend at less than a year), there isn’t a thing that I would change about him. And I feel like I can make this statement with certainty, having had another baby as a roommate for a few months. I also finally understand that my parents were never trying to mold me into something else either, they simply didn’t know WHAT to do with me from time to time. And so my prayer for Paxton to have a teachable spirit begins…

Anyways, it took a lot of straightening out in my head before I realized that God wasn’t trying to make me into someone else either. I only recently discovered that not only does the Lord cherish my bold (for lack of a better term) spirit but He also has a much better idea of what to do with it than I do. If you’ve been exposed to the stereotypical Christian youth group as many times as I have, you as well might be under the impression that God only has a heart for a certain mold of person. I pray for the expulsion of this lie.

Ephesians 2:10:

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Because I wrote this a few days ago, I feel as though I can't quite "end" it with much resolution since the moment has come and gone, but I can sign off with assurance that I will post again soon, as my weekend (and the week thus far) was full of little revelations and such.

To restoration and a really good cup of tea,

Lauren

I Am My Beloved's and He is Mine

First of all, I'd just like to thank those of you who read my blog and have left feedback through way of comment or e-mail. Again I'll mention what a crazy last couple of weeks it has been and your encouragement has really provided me with renewal and hope. Moving on...

I've learned more from watching my son grow than from anything I've soaked up in school or anywhere else. As he reaches that final stretch in his attempts to walk, he isn't able to do so not because he is incapable, but rather because he is afraid - somewhat ironic for the one who so thoroughly enjoys reeking havoc otherwise. The Lord has offered me a very visible comparison in my life, as what stands between me and Him is not a mountain and a valley like it used to be but instead a tiny creek whose waters I'm trying to command the flow of. I know how much would change for Paxton if he just took that first step, and I wonder what would happen in my life if I finally just gave it all up. I've been fighting and resisting a lot over this past week and I thought it was just an expression of how homesick I am, but after about two hours of tears on Friday, I heard my Savior saying "Come home," and I knew he didn't mean to Dallas.

Then at church last night, after a few consecutive weeks of bad news, I felt the Lord delivering such sweet promises of joy and restoration. We had share time, and there were a slew of positive prophetic words that mostly revolved around Him welcoming us to partake in the message of how He pursues us so relentlessly. A very tangible atmosphere of hope was present as He beckoned to us near to remind that He is the Anointer and He takes delight in His children. I think that we do the dance a lot where we pretend to grasp that He loves us and cherishes us and so on but do we really TRULY understand that he desperately wants us? In the secret places of my heart, I know that there are unruly places that I have deemed so unlovable and undesirable that I conceal them from others with all that I have. There are things that I have done that seem impossible to compensate for. But He loves the most grotesque corners of our beings. And the great thing is, he doesn't ask us to be anything that we aren't. He wants us even in our most vulnerable and broken states...He wants especially then.

So finally, I pray that this season brings dancing and laughter and joy. As I was reminded last night by one particularly wise fellow, He doesn't ask us to take ourselves nearly as seriously as society says that we ought. God did create humor, after all. So when you find yourself in a spot where you're critiquing every aspect of every minute detail, ask yourself if this drive towards perfectionism is really what was intended of you. I know that this has been a struggle of mine that I often fail to recognize because we've all been programmed to strive for success so much so that we don't realize the corrosiveness that coincides with humans attempting to be in control of our own behavior. So let it go and lighten up, I promise you won't be sorry.

In Him there is rest,

Lauren

Clarification, etc.

Dear cheesy radio station that I still listen to for reason unbeknownst to even myself, optimism is inarguably a good thing but I’ve had it with your Christian fluff. Humans are capable of experiencing a wide array of emotions and I’m pretty sure that there’s reason for this. To pretend that everything is okay in the midst of crisis and chaos is to deny oneself the ability to become vulnerable enough to let Christ intervene. Furthermore, it paints an extremely false picture of faith. If everything were easy all the time, faith would be practically meaningless. There is no need to advertise Christianity as a means to end all pain.

This world is one strange place and ultimately we’re all just trying to figure out what it's all about. I don’t think that it’s our job to run around shoving our revelations and beliefs down other people’s throats. Take Solomon for instance, God bestowed upon him infinite wisdom not so that he could correct everyone else's foolishness. Even the best of intentions can be construed as condescension. The inextricable stigma attached to Christianity deems us judgmental and close-minded. That may not be true for all of us but we didn’t get that reputation from nowhere. We’ve got to stop making assumptions about where other people are in life and start LISTENING. The most effective evangelism doesn’t come from shoving beliefs down someone’s throat, but rather from patiently and carefully constructing a relationship with someone. What’s more is, I’ve noticed that a lot of conversion attempts are more an effort for said Christian to feel better about themselves than for the other person to actually come to form a meaningful relationship with Christ. Just like marriage doesn’t stop at “I do”, our job isn’t finished once someone welcomes Christ into their lives. Discipleship and availability are vital parts of pouring into someone.

Listening to this particular radio station a couple of days ago, there was a segment in which listeners were encouraged to call into to tell the DJ about something “selfless” that they’d done for another person that day. I cannot even reasonably express how disgusted I was by this. We’ve got to start realizing that we aren’t God. We are merely a means through which Truth can be spoken.

The idea of serving as a vessel for Christ leads me to another point that I think it’s important to touch on. We often place a supernatural importance on the church. But in reality, the church is not a building. In fact, the word “church” is derived from the Greek “Ekklesia” which translates to “Called-Out Ones”. (In Classical Greek this actually holds a political meaning but nonetheless, that makes it “an assembly of citizens summoned by the crier”) We are the church. But until we can die to self enough to grasp that change within ourselves as a body is not only desirable but absolutely essential, we will serve as an interference between the Divine and humanity. 

Romans 12:3-5 reads:

 3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. 4 For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others

God loves the murderer, the pedophile, the woman who had six abortions, the homosexuals, the prostitutes, the alcoholics, and whoever else has been caste out by society just as much as he loves you. And let us not forget that God is everywhere and everything. We've got to start expanding our comprehension of what "God" is and where He lives. He is everywhere, sometimes it just takes a second glance before it is readily apparent.

Anyway, I apologize for this rather extensive rant and please note that I'm no exception to this rule. Below I've posted a poem by Derrick Brown and though it wasn't written for the meaning that I assign to it, this particular piece has come to have spiritual significance to me.



To embracing change,

Lauren

And Somedays, They Last Longer Than Others

I would like to start off by saying that I have no "real" justification for taking so long to update my blog. Time has been molasses over the past two weeks - well, in the way that time does, eternal days that accumulate collectively and then seem so fleeting in retrospect - but practically everything that could have gone wrong has, so I haven't exactly been bursting at the seams with encouraging words. Even my little one, who is usually bubbling with mischief and whimsy and all that is good is currently ill so I've had to find other ways to satiate my drive for adventure. Today that included going to a pro-life/pro-choice rally on campus (it's a weeklong event so Pax and I are discussing the possibility of making an appearance tomorrow) and finally tapping into some uninhibited dance moves. Yes, that's correct, I locked the doors and decided to dance. And what should happen when I went to turn on my ipod? Ah, my headphones were broken. Fortunately it didn't prevent me from seeking alternative means to accomplish my impromptu dance party but it was the straw that broke the camels back. I realize that this phrase usually carries a negative connotation, but tonight it presented itself in a much different light. I started laughing hysterically. If anything (and this comparison is undoubtedly quite presumptuous on my part), at least I can somewhat get a glimpse into what it must've been like for Job. At the end of the day though, I can sit around and mope about some misfortune that'll probably pass in a week or two - this is my first bout of true homesickness - or I can dance like a fool in my living room and say "Screw you demons! Your shenanigans have authority over me no more! Be gone with all of you!"

And if it wasn't self-evident enough, I'm learning to be more self-assured. There's something so empowering about this season in my life. While I'm still relying on the support of my awesomely patient and supportive family, friends, and boyfriend, I'm finally getting the hang of carving my own way and I'm finally beginning to hear what my own voice sounds like. Several months ago, I had an encounter with a recently divorced woman who had just moved to Texas. She accepted a temp manicurist position at a local Dallas spa and I happened to be there for an entirely unrelated thing but they were running behind and offered me a manicure to "appease" my demand for high-quality service that I both fortunately and unfortunately inherited from my father. Anyway, she and I entered into a conversation that started with the typical small talk and as I asked how she ended up in Dallas. As she began to tell me that she moved to live with her sister after divorcing her husband, I was rather quick to vocalize my general distrust of the male population (which has, for the record, since restored itself). Before I could finish listing my grievances/explaining to her the ups and downs of raising a child sans father, she cut me off rather abruptly and told me this: "I used to think that I needed to tell everyone what it was that I was going through so that they might understand or it might help to explain why I was as I was. But then I began to realize that I am who I am and I don't need an excuse for that." This statement totally rocked my world. At the time I couldn't imagine toting my precious P around, who used to take advantage of every opportunity to cry, and not making apologies and offering excuses to everyone around. (Sam - my boyfriend - once said in response to the judgmental eyes that we received upon the incitement of one of Paxton's breakdowns at some coffee shop, "Oh! You think YOU'RE tired of hearing him cry!?" I have an unyielding respect for the way that he manages to tackle stressful situations)

Today, some five or so months later, I'm finally beginning to understand what this lady meant. While obviously I'm not proposing that we approach the world with a general spirit of disregard, I do think that we should make a more conscious effort to quit attempting to explain ourselves to others. We are all existing in exactly the place that we are supposed to be. I happen to find a whole lot of comfort in the notion that we are divinely created with meticulously mapped paths. This is why I can find solace in a string of fourteen bad days because I know that He makes no mistakes.

I have a painting hanging up in my home that my Mom did for me. It reads "Don't wait for the storm to pass, learn to dance in the rain". As for me, I'm going to dance until I can't feel myself move anymore.

To splashing through the puddles,

Lauren

This Story Simple Told, I Waited for the Lord and He Heard My Cry

(I began this post on Friday, only to make some modifications as the weekend unfolded)

"Friday" used to have an entirely different association in my mind. Pre-pregnancy, it represented an inkling of freedom in schedule, a glimpse of retreat before another monotonous five days of state-mandated education. Once my friends began leaving for their various collegiate destinations and I was left alone with a baby-to-be, community college classes that weren't particularly conducive with forming new friendships, a rather hostile working environment, and one very stressful decision to make, the weekend came to mean seemingly endless hours of isolation and anxiety. Thinking back to where I was a year ago evokes an array of unwelcome feelings. It seems more than surreal that I spent a year of my life without any close friends nearby. Loneliness has been one of my biggest struggles over the years and becoming a Mom provided no relief from this. While I have a precious son who will talk my ear off, the fact that we don't quite speak the same language often presents its difficulties. There are ample opportunities for lunch dates and daytime activities, but when it comes to the night, deviating from our bedtime routine is an unchartered territory that makes going out with a little one extremely unpredictable. I wish that I could say that since rethinking the way that I follow Christ that these burdens have become easier to bear, but they often represent a very real pain. Particularly as Pax gets closer and closer to turning one (and as the weather changes nostalgia seeps in), I've grown slightly weary of this routine. However, living in a missional community has certainly transformed the way that I perceive the lies that I tell myself as far as loneliness is concerned. I'm coming closer everyday to embracing what Single Motherhood means for my life and in many ways, I'm growing to deeply appreciate it.

Though lately certain resentments have begun to surface more so than they have in some time, I think I'm finally prepared to give them up. I wasted a considerable portion of the first six months of Paxton's life waiting for a phone call from someone that I once thought to be detrimental to Pax's well-being. That anxiety in me quickly transformed to anger and bitterness where it has resided in the shadows of my heart ever since. Much of it has been neatly tucked away, knowing that those who love and support me most do not benefit from my ranting. Furthermore, I often find myself giving into some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. I let the lie that I will never compensate for certain choices in my past take control over my future. I've carried rejection from certain events in my veins for far too long. I will no longer be  defined by past mistakes. I am a new creation in Him. Goodbye bitterness. Goodbye shame. Goodbye disappointment. I hereby declare that I'm giving the Lord full reign over every burden that I'm so unwilling to let go of, the ones that I clutch so tightly in the secret. It's all Yours. And to whom it may concern: I release you and forgive you. I will daily, consciously make the choice not to carry around these negative feelings towards you. Though you will never understand how disrupting the dynamic of a family affects its members, it is now time for me to let go. You don't have the power any longer.

Last night at Corporate Worship (our church is formatted somewhat differently than the traditional setup, we meet as a body only once a month and the other three weeks we come together in smaller groups of people, called "house churches", each of which has a specific focus), our Pastor Ken was talking about what it means to be great in the eyes of the Lord. He referred to the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5) for this teaching and though I've read it so many times, I find a new meaning upon each reading. Ken preached on how we as Believers are called to greatness and how oftentimes when we finally resign ourselves to the Lord, hardships and temptations begin arising like never before. Oh man can I attest to this! As he went on, he reminded us that such is a mere test of faith and greatness can only be found by breaking through to the other side. He also reminded us that greatness is not negated by daily routine - and that monotony is not the equivalent of insignificance. I found this to be very comforting, as it is often difficult to see any real meaning in the trivialities of my day to day life. As I have mentioned before, I'm feeling more and more called to a mission and though I am not yet sure where I am needed, I am onboard and ready for a new adventure. For once I feel that everything is exactly as it should be.

I began this post full of doubt and hopelessness but have somewhere along the way gained an awesome sense of clarity. The Lord is faithful. He navigates for the lost and provides solace for the downtrodden.  While I can't promise that anything in life will be easy, I do know with certainty that there is rest for the weary. I was particularly encouraged by this passage in Matthew 5:


 “God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,^[a]
      for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
    ⁴ God blesses those who mourn,
      for they will be comforted.
    ⁵ God blesses those who are humble,
      for they will inherit the whole earth.


And to my dear Paxton:


I have been thinking especially of you. Children are the lifeforce that holds us together. God set the world down to create you and whispered His favor over your life. I hope that you never forget how deeply loved and embraced you are by those who surround you. Thank you for being my son. 

Insert Inspirational Title Here

It seems like an interesting time to be "inspired" to write (1:59 AM), particularly when I consider that I have a test tomorrow morning and oh, yeah, I have mono. But not for lack of effort, I can't seem to get the rest I so badly desire. I'll go ahead and use mono as my go-to excuse as to why I've gotten off to such a great start in the blogging world but in all reality mono is probably the perfect excuse to update. I just haven't quite gotten a feel as to what I hope to accomplish from starting this blog but I suppose the only true way to find out is through trial and error.

My son went to visit his grandparents this week so that I could get some much needed rest. Unfortunately for them, I'm pretty sure my rest is coming at the expense of theirs - one ear-infection and a few sleepless nights later. This week has been extremely eye-opening for me. Though I usually don't pay much mind to it, there is a tiny little voice in the back of my head that sometimes asks what would be if Paxton were not. Let me just lay it out there: I really don't like teenagers. We're a selfish selfish breed and experiencing what a "normal" existence might look like this week has more empty and unfulfilling than I could've imagined. Though I never considered myself a particularly maternal creature in the past, my Momma Bear instincts have had PLENTY of opportunities to develop in the past ten months. I can now say without the slightest doubt in my mind that I would not have things any other way. First of all, knowing that I have to fit certain tasks into strict time limits ensures that I am much more productive than I have displayed this week. Secondly, being able to pull the "Single Mom" card is so extremely helpful. This week I've just been another college kid in a town full of college kids. That lingering glance of pity, disdain, and reverence really comes in handy. I've learned that people are most vulnerable and generous when they are confused as to what they should make of you. Watching people calculate personal reservation, religion, and social standards into one equation is amusing to say the least. Thirdly, his smile and laugh nourish my soul. Fourthly, see number three.

Anyways, the point that I'm trying to make is that I miss my baby like crazy! In a strange way, this is actually quite relevant to the title of my blog. "He is jealous for me" is the first line of the song "How He Loves" which was originally composed by John McMillan and more recently performed and recorded by David Crowder. The song factor isn't really important (though it is a great song), the part that I'd like to further examine is the breakdown of those words. Jealousy is, if you are anything like me, not an concept that you're immune or stranger to. Coveting seems to have somewhat lost its "sin-factor" in today's society, and wanting what we can't have is, if not human nature, then an intrinsic ideal of the capitalist system. But what about being jealous for someone's attention? As silly as it may be, everytime I've heard Pax laughing while on the phone with my parents this week, it has evoked a certain tinge of jealousy in knowing that they get to spend precious time with him while I am miles away missing him. I'd never really experienced anything like this other than perhaps that "protective" envy that arises when significant others are involved. I started putting this in the context of the relationship that I have with God and "He is jealous for me" kept re-emerging. The more and more I think about it, the more and more I begin to grasp what that means. It means that He genuinely desires a relationship with me so badly that when I deviate from the path, it actually hurts him. (I was tempted to end that "revelation" with an exclamation point but for some reason it just didn't seem fitting.) The concept of our Heavenly Savior being jealous for my attention is another one of those mind-blowing ideas to me. I mean, I'm talking, the One who created the whole entire universe and everything that's in it is actually jealous for my time? That's pretty insane. (There's actually a really great song by Derek Webb called "Wedding Dress" that paints a beautiful picture of this) Yet, again and again I turn to alternative means, spiritually adulterous relationships and outlets to seek whatever it is I think I need to get by. Though I'll never truly be able to digest what that means, if it's anything close to what it feels like when a loved one betrays me, that's not exactly a feeling I'd like to revisit on a regular - if not practically constant - basis.

All this to say, I'm in continual awe of how awesome God truly is. Reading through Isaiah 1 has convicted me to begin accepting God's grace more fully. The progression of this chapter is truly fascinating. The first part of the chapter is spent blatantly condemning the people of Jerusalem for the unfaithful rebellion:

15 When you spread out your hands,

I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers,

I will not listen;
your hands are full of blood.

While the second part of the chapter calls them to repent, God is almost attempting to "level" with them, to beg them to return to His arms for shelter and restoration.

18 “Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord:
though your sins are like scarlet

they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,

they shall become like wool.

As we miss our loved ones when they are away, as we become uneasy and possessive in love, Yahweh misses us and approaches with righteous envy the idols that so often capture our attention and hearts. He is greedy for your attention and desperately wants to restore your heart so that you might experience the depth and richness of life in Him.

I'm not sure that my ability to articulate effectively is still working considering that it is three in the morning and I'm sure I will be a groaning mess in the morning, but for some reason I felt it necessary to share my thoughts!

This is the best version of Derek Webb's song that I could find. I don't know why people can't seem to resist the urge to create cheesy slideshows of strings of "touching" photos to songs...it just ends up feeling like I'm reading one long forwarded e-mail. Needless to say, I went with the live version.

Room to Breathe

I've never been much of an avid blogger so I can't say that I really know much in the way of introductions. I suppose this doesn't really have to fit any one particular format though since it's my blog so I'll be content to go wherever this curser takes me. My name is Lauren, I'm nineteen years old and I'm searching for meaning in this crazy mess of life just like everyone else. It would be a gross oversimplification to suggest that my life resembles anything close to "normal" though. I have a ten-month old son (see below) - his name is Paxton but you can call him Trouble for short - and my roommate's son is nearly one. So, as one might imagine, life around these parts is pretty darn chaotic. Parenting is the most fulfilling disaster I've ever embarked on and I enjoy (most) every minute of it. 

Photo by Molly Shute  

Paxton after he decided to empty the trash for me

My world functions between utter bliss and breakdown. In addition to being a single Mom, I'm also a full-time student at a large university. When I think about my son, an image of myself as a young girl flashes vividly in my mind. As a child I was extremely high-energy and whenever I felt too "still", I recall hastily leaping up from wherever I was at the time and literally jumping up and down to sort out the stillness (we called it my still dance). I'd get so agitated by it that I simply could not bear the notion of inactivity. In a similar way, when I think of Pax, I get so overwhelmed within myself that I feel as though I might burst from loving someone so deeply. In fact, as I meditate on it at this moment, it's taking all of my self-restraint not to charge through his door, snatch him up, and hug him tightly. I'll resist though, knowing that the outcome would be more than traumatizing for both of us (mind you, he gets to wake me up whenever he pleases). Anyways, this journey that the two of us have been on together has truly opened my eyes to the love that God has for me. Parenting allowed me to experience Him in a whole new way. My faulty image of God as Judgement and Punishment has finally been shattered and I am liberated. I now and forevermore grasp that I am a daughter of the King. Growing up in a Christian home, with "saved" friends and an opulent albeit cookie-cutter neighborhood that baked up a pretty little version of religiosity, I heard that line a million times. Of late though, being a daughter of the King seems like a pretty damn special thing. If He loves me even more than I love my son, I can't even imagine the abundance of His devotion and forgiveness. What's even more mind-blowingly awesome is that He allowed HIS son to die a brutal, humiliating, lonely death for MY sins. I seriously cannot fathom this. I think I need to do my still dance again...this makes me all sorts of itchy with excitement. This might all be basic theology but seriously, when does this kind of grace ever become any less radical and any less awe-inspiring? 

You see, if Jesus is Lord, this changes everything. If we are sons and daughters of the King, then we're also brothers and sisters by association. Even though my sister and I often disagree on things, my relationship with her is one of my top priorities and I'd do anything for her. Now how about applying that thought to the rest of humanity? Woah. Today as I was heading to school when I heard the song "My Own Little World" by Matthew West. I'm not usually one for contemporary Christian music but listening to the lyrics of this song, I began to feel something starting to emerge from the bottom of my soul and before I knew it, Jesus was right there next to me. I'm not sure how most people experience the Son of God but for me he usually brings shivers of joy and a whole lot of tears. Today was no exception. (Yes, walking into a class of 150+ was indeed awkward.) I drove listening to these words:

In my own little world it hardly ever rains

I’ve never gone hungry or always felt safe

I got some money in my pocket

shoes on my feet

In m own little world

Population me

I try to stay awake through the Sunday morning church

I throw a twenty in the plate but I never give ’til it hurts

and I turn off the news when I don’t like what I see

it’s easy to do when it’s population me...

And as he often does, I felt the Fisher of Men gently unhinging the clutches of my heart. I rested in the arms of my Savior as he told me that as always, he has everything perfectly mapped out for me. But this wasn't the message He was there to deliver. Instead He began describing to me stories of those who need Freedom, Rest, and Love. Though I cannot feasibly provide such on my own, He assured me that I am a vessel for Him and in order to fulfill this purpose, I've got to become more aware of what breaks His heart. This is one of the first times that I've felt truly called for a missional purpose and I cannot explain how thrilled I am! I'm not sure yet where this expedition will lead me but I invite you to join me for the ride. 

To Planting the Seed,

Lauren