My Response to FYI (if you’re a teenage girl)

Quite a few of my fellow facebookers have posted your article, presumably with the intention of praising it. Personally, I have a huge problem with it and find myself unable to stay silent on this issue. I cringe at the language you used in this post. I cringe for the girls that this was intended for and I cringe at the intention of causing them shame. It is baffling to me that you have taken it upon yourself to rifle through your sons’ social media accounts with a recognition that they are too young to be responsible for viewing whatever scandalous photos they might happen upon, yet you are unwilling to hold the girls in question to the same standard of helplessness. If I had a daughter who was posting provocative photos of herself to the internet, I would certainly hope that a parent would be kind enough to inform me first instead of blacklisting my daughter. I am horrified by the insinuation that due to one poor decision on the part of some teenage girl (and it’s not like teenagers are known for their ability to anticipate consequences) that you would call them unworthy to be around your sons. That certainly doesn’t sound like Jesus to me. I seem to remember Jesus reaching out to some pretty sketchy folks – folks who did a whole lot worse than post a provocative photo of themselves to Instagram.

“I know your family would not be thrilled at the thought of my teenage boys seeing you only in your towel. Did you know that once a male sees you in a state of undress, he can’t ever un-see it? You don’t want the Hall boys to only think of you in this sexual way, do you?”

Where is the conversation about the importance of self-control? We do not teach our men to be leaders by insisting that they are mere creatures of lust. The burden of lust and purity does not fall exclusively on women. If you heard that a man was cheating on his wife, would your response be to sympathize for him because he was obviously seduced by a temptress? I should hope not. We don’t create leaders by teaching them to act as victims – we bring up leaders by planting seeds of truth and righteousness. We teach men how to be leaders by equipping them with the tools and skills that will help them to respond in the face of temptation and sin. We teach them strength and resilience. We don’t teach them that sexuality is inherently evil. In this tipsy topsy "Christian" world of purity, we are disabling our children by not allowing them to have some control over their own sexuality.

Don’t get me wrong, though my son is only four, we do intend on monitoring his internet activity when he comes to an age where he is regularly browsing the internet. With that though, I also think that this comes with discussions of accountability and WHY it’s important to be pure. Ultimately, when it comes to his relationship with girls, we can only guide him in the right direction and pray that he is responsive. I trust that even if he doesn’t choose to listen to us that the Lord is eternally good and redemptive and that there will be something to be learned from it.
Then there’s even more…you chose to spruce up your lovely lecture with photos of your sons flexing at the beach. I’m not sure if you were just really trying to bring home your double standards or what, but I found myself pretty appalled that while you were ranting and raving about girls posting scantily glad photos, you thought it was also appropriate to show off photos of your sons posing in a way that shows off their muscles. As you so eloquently stated:

“if you want to stay friendly with the Hall men, you’ll have to keep your clothes on, and your posts decent.”

Is it too much to ask for your sons to live by the same standards? Listen, after Miley Cyrus' recent VMA performance, I understand why we're all so up in arms about the way that women present themselves. At the same time though, I do not understand why we're not outraged by the lyrics of her fellow performer's song "Blurred Lines". It breaks my heart that we choose to shame women instead of feeling deeply saddened when they choose to put their worth in their sexuality. How surprising can it be though? We live in a society that tells us that we are only as valuable as our outward appearance. That same society also spits us out and calls us names for embracing its values. I'm not about perpetuating that and I really hope that I can help teach my kiddo that women and men are valuable for what's on the inside. You should understand this firsthand as someone who does have a daughter...how would it feel to you if you found out that she had become an outcast because of one poor choice that she made?

As someone who had my son out-of-wedlock at eighteen, I sure am glad that I was surrounded by people who chose to cover me in love instead of shame because they knew that shame was most definitely not what I needed. I don't know, that feels a whole lot more like Jesus to me.

I've Been Down That Road...And I'm Traveling Now

I think toddlers are the greatest. I know that a lot of people wouldn't agree with that sentiment, and perhaps it wasn't so well-received tonight when Pax decided to chunk some play food at a family portrait during a reading of the Christmas story at my Grandparent's annual family Christmas get-together, but I truly love all of Paxton's mischief. Toddlers are by far the most resourceful humans I can think of (they're second to raccoons when it comes to creation's resourcefulness). I love their imaginative spirits and their budding independence. Pax is defiant and squawk-y but he's also tender and sweet. He is an absolute expert at testing my patience, but one simple "I'm are-ee" (his pronunciation of "sorry") followed by a hug and a kiss always seem to replenish any patience that may have slipped away. The thing I always say about toddlers is this: God doesn't start them as toddlers or we'd all return them. However, watching them wriggle out of their infantile stages of development into fully interactive children...there's nothing like it. I'm also extremely blessed with a toddler who has quite the sense of humor. That's the way Pax and I have to approach one another some days - with lots of laughs and lots of grace. And sure, I miss the days when I could simply walk out of the room for a second if I felt overwhelmed (now the tantrum clings to my leg and follows me out, but when the future is looking grim, I just always remind myself of what Sam says...naps are God's gift to the parents of toddlers.

Anyhow, as of late I've been meditating quite a bit on all of the feelings that are associated with parenting. In a way it's a constant grieving process of always looking back on where you just were while also trying to navigate through the next stage. In the past, I've viewed this as a negative thing but now I'm beginning to praise the Lord just for his provision of all these different experiences. I'm grateful that he so intricately designed us to sail through and enjoy the voyages of life. I don't know what His purpose for creating a lifespan is and I don't know why people have to die. I do, however, know that it's okay to be still and soak in the feelings that come with it all. I know that it's okay to have feelings about loss of control and major life changes. I know that grief has its place and that patience, peace, and grace were meant to be asked for (even pleaded and begged for) in abundance. And then sometimes we just have to jump through puddles and say "to hell with it".

The Lord created us to experience both times of mourning and times of joy. We exist in this epicurean society that wrongly suggests that pleasure ought to be our norm. In all reality, suffering often a more "noticeable" component of our existence. So what do we do with that? I'll get there, and without referring you to Job, I'll just go ahead and suggest that we start approaching it more honestly. Suffering isn't fun and there are plenty of times in our lives when it's simply unavoidable.

Well, a few days ago on a run, I had a pretty clear picture in my head of an egg. I wasn't really sure what it meant and so I began praying that the Lord reveal more of what He was giving me. When it came to me, I was almost unsure as to how I could feel about it because it seems so opposite of what I've always heard. Here it was: the Lord is the Great Heart Breaker. I've always seen Him as the great Lover, so to have this revealed to me was pretty fun. It's relates to the egg in that, once you crack an egg, it can be scrambled, fried, poached, hard boiled, etc, but it can never be the same. It's the same with heartbreak...once it's happened to you, you're never quite the same person you once were. This week God continued to reveal that not only does he want to break our hardened hearts, but that He wants to replace all the icky crap with everlasting joy. Two weeks before I found out I was pregnant, I prayed that the Lord would do whatever it took to make me His. It might not have been totally what I had in mind, but I’ve never once regretted investing more in my relationship with Christ. That's really what it comes down to...for some reason we are so prone to dreading spending time in the word and in prayer but I can honestly say that I've never once wished that I hadn't done so. The additional beauty in all of this is that the Lord already knows our hearts and He doesn't hold it against us - so why not go for it?

For those of us who sometimes feel like screaming during the Christmas prayer,

- Lauren

This is an old(er) one but it warms my heart every time.

Happytimes, etc.

I know it's been a while since I last posted, but I needed a spot of time to have some intimate time with my Savior. This has by far been the most fruitful semester that I've had in some time. It's late so that's all that I'll say about that for now, but expect more quite soon.

It occurred to me recently, naturally while doing the goofiest form of exercise (rollerblading), that I tend to get so caught up in defining who God is without ever actually asking Him who he is. The image that came to me was this: God busting out of his workshop with a Moray eel around his neck and shouting lightheartedly and excitedly for all of heaven to hear, "Look, look what I made!" In this picture, He thought it was hilarious that He, God, Creator of all had created something so hideous. That's when it dawned upon me for one of the very first times that the Lord is the one who created my sense of humor. He is the creator of the child's heart. He is giddiness and exuberance at the core. He is every squeal and giggle that escape Paxton's eager lips. There is such freedom in embracing God's true character and in asking Him to reveal Himself. It's one of my new aspirations to begin cataloguing different aspects of His personality.

Can you believe that this little prince is two?

Soon,

- Lauren

A Song of Hope

I started this blog last Thursday and am just now getting around to posting it...

Well. The strep monster is back. I have to say, sickness in parent or child is probably one of the hardest things about being a parent. I can't imagine falling ill with something chronic, and this little bout of strep has me vowing to appreciate our good health. This morning the absolute last thing I wanted to do was chase little P around the house. I tried to tell him that I had an "owie" in my throat. His solution? Run up to Mom and grab a chunk of the skin on her neck. Toddlers are the best.

I always feel bad on days in which I have 1:30 classes because Mr. P has to go to school earlier and for longer because 11:30-2:30 is nap time. So, it seemed like maybe we could squeeze in some quality time at the doctor. Oh Lauren, you're so silly sometimes. Yes, take him with you to the doctor and leave the diaper bag in the car. Then expect him to sit quietly on your lap while you wait for the doctor to see you. Right. So there's that, then I get home and it finally dawns upon me that I am absolutely and utterly exhausted. I haven't slept well in about a week and the house is an utter disaster - laundry needs doing, dishes need washing, garbage needs taking out, homework needs completing...the list goes on and on.

By 11:30 I'm falling apart. I even shed a few tears because I'm so frustrated by all the things I need to do between now and 5:45 tomorrow when I pick up Sam from the airport. So I'm lying across my bed, wallowing in a world self-pity and unpreparedness (for a quiz in an hour that involves material that I haven't read) when the Lord decides it's a good time to start a conversation. Hah. And what, of all the things My Divinity might suggest right now does he choose? Which words - after promising me this season of rest and revitalization - does he impart on me? He tells His Daughter to embrace the season and do just that which seems unfathomable - He tells me to rest. I choose to resist this nonsense. I question God's state-of-mind, His vacation day policy, His goodness, and so on and so forth. Rest, My Child, He repeats, unaffected by my resistance. It isn't long - but it's long enough - before I finally understand what is being communicated. There is peace to be had in the midst of chaos and if I let Him, He will take care of the burden.

I meditated on this for a while - the ability to find rest in the least ideal of situations. I like having a scripture reference as a little bit of extra comfort when I'm having a difficult day, so I turned to Psalm 37:7-9:

7 Be still before the LORD
and wait patiently for him;
do not fret when people succeed in their ways,
when they carry out their wicked schemes.

8 Refrain from anger and turn from wrath;
do not fret—it leads only to evil.
9 For those who are evil will be destroyed,
but those who hope in the LORD will inherit the land.

Sure, it's a little heavy at the end there, but it also helped me focus again on letting go of worry. Then while I was at church on Sunday, a very wise someone asked the group if they were feeling a little overwhelmed by the new semester and all that implies. And guess what? Psalm 37:7 was the verse he referenced as well. I love it when the Lord does things like that, it feels like a nice little pat on the back after a tough week.

And then, when nothing seems to be enough, there's this. This right here puts it all back into perspective again.

He Will Break Every Chain

As often happens, I sat down to write this blog post with one thing in mind, only to have the Lord take me in a different direction entirely. Yesterday morning as I was brewing some coffee, Pax was sitting in his highchair with his breakfast cut into neat little pieces for him and suddenly I look over to see him shaking his head and saying to himself "No, no, no, no". I chuckled to myself because I knew exactly what was about to go down. No matter how hard we try (and this really has been a group effort) to teach him to say that he's finished when he doesn't want to eat anymore instead of picking up all of his remaining food and throwing it (last night this was particularly fun - at a restaurant - with yogurt). He was trying so hard to talk himself out of throwing his food but about thirty seconds later I saw that glimmer of helplessness in his eyes as he scooped up all of his food and chunked it across the kitchen while letting out a squeal of excitement. I often have to leave the room to avoid laughing at just how naughty yet equally charming that little boy can be. The older he gets, the more and more I see myself in him. I love his fiery spirit and his inclination to do the opposite of what he's told. While he tests my patience on a more-than-daily basis, I can deeply appreciate all that his character reveals to me about our Creator. Nothing displays the grace, humor, and even mystery of the Lord more than children.

On a separate note, I've been thinking a lot about character traits because of a pretty lengthy self-assessment assignment for one of my courses. I was somewhat disheartened to find out that I am much quicker to identify my weaknesses than my strengths. While humility is certainly desirable, I think I sometimes tend to interchange that concept for "verging on self-loathing". As I open my heart to allow the Lord to replace Satan's lies with His truths, I've discovered something that I'd for whatever reason never considered before: He uses our weaknesses for His glory. It says in 2 Corinthians 12:9&10:

9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

There are times in which I just can't even wrap my mind around how sweet God's love is for His children. This brings me to another truth that I so often need reminding of: He is still jealous for me. And by that token, He is still jealous for you. Say it. Say it aloud. Whenever I need affirmation or refreshment in my faith, I say this to myself. There is nothing more powerful than God's pursuit of His children.

Though there are many other things on my heart right now that I'm excited to share about, they'll have to wait for future blog posts. I'd forgotten about the balance between mothering-spirituality-relationships-studying-etc. that exists when school is in full swing.

To the promise of an abundant season,

- Lauren

Into the Mystic

Beginning this post, I feel torn between guilt at not having updated in so long (thus spurring a desire to apologize) and a certain stubborn rebel force that wouldn't even hear of apologizing. Anticipating this about myself, knowing full well that 92% of the conflicts in my life are caused by my - as I graciously prefer to put it, ability to stick to my guns - I'll take responsibility for being a flaky blogger and insist that I'll make an effort to update more. There's a long litany of excuses that I could list off but mostly it comes down to a long season (or three of them) in which my inspiration and connection to anything within the creative realm seemed to have flown south for the winter (or west...). It seemed justifiable to skimp on writing for a while as I was diligent in corresponding with Sam via letters on a daily basis. But, on my drive back home after his very long-awaited arrival in Dallas, my mind was already frenzied with all sorts of new story ideas so I've been catching up for the past two months. No matter how hard I try to stay away from it, my writing roots always manage to creep back up on me.

Enough about that. In other news, Paxton is at my favorite stage ever. I say this about all of his stages (always carefully excluding 0-3 months though) but it's because they're all the best. Lately he's taken to imitating many of my behaviors - my personal favorite is when he grabs my phone and talks to himself on it, walking around the house and picking things up as he goes along, occasionally stopping to switch ears or readjust. Pax and I have too much fun together. While he's developing his imagination, I get to put mine back on. One of my favorite games is playing dress-up by cloaking myself in "adult parent" conversation. This is particularly amusing at the park (I also recommend the pediatrician's office or Super Targets everywhere) where there are no shortage of Gap clad parents who are panic stricken with thoughts of up-to-date shot records, developmental milestones, sharp objects, and any male creature standing within 100 yards of the given location's boundaries. Anyway, it's fun to make small talk and, only for a moment, to glimpse into what it must be like to be a parent "on their own terms". Paxton is pretty wild, so I doubt that even if I had this exact same child ten years from now that anything would really be "on my own terms" but sometimes talking to older parents feels like some sort of detective endeavor because their world is completely foreign to me. There's certainly nothing inherently wrong with having concerns for a child's well-being (and as a parent it's our job to protect them as best as possible) but I think a lot of parents today are over read on the subject child-rearing and all that comes with it. People have been having babies successfully since Adam and Eve, most of it seems pretty intuitive anyways. No, Timmy probably isn't going to contract rubella from being in the same room as Suzie two days ago who now has a funny looking mark on her arm. I really shouldn't act as though I don't have my bouts of anxiety...just ask me about the time I thought I had scabies. It was great that the house got such a thorough cleaning, I just wish I would've waited until after seeing the doctor to strip all the sheets that I had only washed the day prior.

As a society, we seem to be pretty fixated on the idea of fear. We eat it up. I'll be the first to admit, I was practically tailgating waiting for updates on the Casey Anthony trial. We watch scary movies. We pursue tragic news stories. We peruse WebMD for a diagnosis on our latest symptoms - I was really banking that those extra few pounds were hypothyroidism. Nope. Just cookies. Always cookies. Anyway, one of the biggest opportunities for fear to work its way into our lives is during the vulnerable years of early parenthood. I speak as though I've experienced late parenthood, obviously not the case, I would just imagine the earlier years to be slightly more impressionable. Fear presents itself in many forms: literal panic or fear, nightmares, phobias, the list goes on. One element of fear that many of us often fail to recognize is worry. It seems so innocent and justified (and practically a natural maternal instinct, no?) but at the core of it, it's still a unwillingness to trust that the Lord will ultimately provide for us and work in our best interest. I struggled a LOT with anxiety while Sam was away. He was injured about two months into training and so while bootcamp should've taken three months, it took six. We kept hearing one thing, only to have it be delayed or changed at a moment's notice (except we wouldn't find out until receiving a letter several days later). In the end, the journey took a turn that none of us expected, with him coming home and returning to civilian life. Though it was a whirlwind of an experience at the very least, having absolutely no control over the situation taught me a lot about waiting on the Lord's timing and accepting His divine plan for my life. The day that we found out he was injured, I had an extremely intense encounter with the Lord only hours before. Despite getting to be a part of one of those most amazing spiritual journey's of someone very dear to me, I had been extremely hesitant to initiate any sort of conversation with the Lord and weeks had gone by since I'd really talked to Him. I was working out when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the force of the Lord just hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to leave the gym because I was so overcome by emotion - I got some interesting looks on the way out. The Lord kept asking me "Lauren, do you trust me? Do you trust me?" When God starts a conversation and He's got the whole world in his hands, it doesn't seem too wise to shrug it off so finally I started talking. I've never really felt interrupted by the Lord before (refreshing though) but he kept repeating "Lauren, haven't I ALWAYS provided for and taken care of you? Don't you know that I love you and will protect your family?" Five hours later I received a call from Sam's Mom saying that he had been injured and was being dropped to a medical platoon for an unspecified amount of time.

Now, I realize that was a lengthy anecdote, but it was a really defining moment in my ability to truly grasp that the Lord really does work in our best interest. I was crushed when I found out that it would be even longer before I was able to reunite with Sam (and there are certainly aspects of the past few months that I could've handled more graciously) but ultimately I have such a strong sense of faith and peace that the Lord worked with intention in allowing Sam to get pack palsy. Let me relate this all back to kids and germs and whatnot. Does He not love our children EVEN more than we do? Does He not delight in the sweetness of their actions and the innocence in their laugh? You bet He does. It's a daily struggle for me to say "Lord, have my worry today" and there are many days where I wrap the cord of my anxiety too tightly around myself to hand over to God but when I do allow him the ability to ease my burden, I'm never worse off for it. The Lord is so good to his people. Lately I've started being more intentional in the things that I pray for throughout the day: "Lord grant me the ability to just be in this moment with my sweet son." "Lord please give me the patience..." I've noticed that He always delivers the little things that I need to get through the day.

The more that I contemplate being intentional in my prayers with the Lord, the more I consider how that will impact my little sponge of a toddler. He's so curious about everything that I do that now seems like the time to begin setting the framework for a spiritually abundant life. All I know is that right now I have nothing but things to look forward to. I feel so revived for this upcoming season in life and cannot wait to spread that passion around. I love that my school is preparing me to defend social justice and is engaging me in a way that has me so excited to attend 8:30 classes. I love that Paxton greets me in the morning with "ticka ticka ticka" (He thinks that delivering tickles to those without is one of the most helpful things that he can do). I love that Madison and I made our annual watermelon sugar cookies (a longstanding summer tradition in the Kerner household). I love that I'm reading a book for enjoyment for the first time in far too long. I love that everyone has settled into new routines (and houses) and finally, I love that this summer weather will soon be cooling down a bit.

Alright, I think after an hour and a half of writing I have sufficiently made up for my absence. I like to include a word of scripture or something at the end of my posts as a sort of summary. Okay, that's pretty presumptuous to state that the bible is a summary of MY thoughts but it's late and it amuses me so I'm going to leave it. This passage is particularly meaningful to me because in one of my most anxious states, I flipped my bible open to this:

Matthew 6

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[e]? 28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Spreading peace and refreshment,

- Lauren

He's Got the Whole World in His Hands

I realize it’s been far too long since I last posted a blog entry – somehow the last month and a half or so have escaped me entirely. The last couple of months have been non-stop in our house. Between a one-year-old birthday, pneumonia, RSV, exams, the holidays, new teeth, a quickly approaching Spring semester, and Sam heading off to the Marines in less than two weeks, I hardly know what to do with myself. Resistance to change seems natural enough to humanity – or perhaps creation in general, and I’m certainly no exception within this. There’s something undeniably significant about Sam’s departure – not only as it pertains to us; our history, the simplicity and all the goodness that has come to fruition in the past year – but rather what this means in the life of Paxton as his awareness of the world around him becomes more and more evident.

(My little prince on his big day)


Perhaps in part because of any of the aforementioned factors, lately I’ve felt as though I’m watching life dance mystically just out of reach. The phases of life are so difficult to identify sometimes but I've much benefitted from a little alone time to organize my aspirations. Yet, as I grieve (while also very eagerly anticipate) this next chapter in my life, I am coming closer and closer to truly discovering what it is to solely depend on the Lord’s provision for my family. Several prophetic people in my life have spoken a season of harvest over this next season so I've been attempting to configure how to most effectively incorporate that positive energy into my routine. A prophesy ought never go ignored. Winter always shakes something eerie and resplendent my way so sometimes it feels a tad more difficult to prioritize.

My bones have felt a tad restless of late, through listening loudly for the Silence of the Holy Spirit, I've received a strong response concerning the release of my creative spirit. Children are the best excuse to bringing to fruition the root meaning of what it is to create. Paxton is a constant inspiration to me. His newness and instinctual responses ignite a desire in me to strip everything down to the basics. That which I often consider necessary in the realm of technology and such is so frivolous to the perceptions of a child. He makes me so itchy for nature...I love it! That being said, I suppose I ought to limit Paxton's early exposure to all that is "natural" since he has been mistaken for a girl three times this past week. Sigh. I suppose it really is time for that first haircut after all. It's so strange to think that his hair has remained untouched since the day of his birth - sometimes it seems all I have left of that precious 4 1/2 lb. premie. I digress, and the constant stream of letting go, the ever-prevalent theme of parenting floats on.

Anyways, this post is inevitably a bit jumbled because I'm a bit jumbled but I don't think it's beneficial to any parties to constantly pretend to exist in a state of utmost clarity. There is much to look forward to in this next series of life. I never cease to feel baffled by how extremely fast days seem to move. I remember always wanting to be older as a child. Adulthood seemed so enticing until I paid bills for the first time! A few months ago, Sam and I took Pax to the Science Museum because we had such fond memories from childhood. It was a colossal disappointment at best...perhaps from the aftereffects of years of mandatory education or because we aren't so ignorant as to the basic functions of nature anymore. Either way, I'm trying for Paxton's sake to become more like a child so that I might understand the way that he is experiencing things for the very first time.

Adulthood and our acquirement of knowledge reminds me a lot of Adam and Eve. As I learn more and more about the way the world is, I desperately long for the days in which I truly believed in the innate goodness of humanity. At least my lessons in reality have been gradual, Adam and Eve experienced it all at once at the Tree of Knowledge (and it should be noted that they came to know a whole lot more than we as humans ever will...I can't imagine what it is to be able to comprehend eternity). They teach us that perhaps naivety faith is what we ought to rely on. Children depend on their parents entirely to fulfill their needs. In most cases, they are incapable of considering what the alternative would be if they weren't fed, housed, or clothed. What if we stopped worrying about all the potential negative outcomes that would be if the Lord didn't provide for us? We have so little control over the tides in our lives that perhaps relying on the deliverance and goodness of God's authority wouldn't be so bad after all...Personally, when I have been faithful through prayer (and even when I haven't) the Lord has had a way of configuring the situations in my life to exactly what they need to be. So, I'm thinking whatever He has in store for us is probably a whole richer than whatever we can come up with on our own. He did kind of design this whole world, after all.

To Belief in a Better Tomorrow,

Lauren

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