Finding Faith in the Mess
I have some goals this summer. Like, get my kids to make themselves breakfast and tie their shoes. I want them to be able to man themselves for more than 2.5 seconds without Mama Camp Counselor calling the shots. I created three of you. Three …
“When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf! Then Noah knew that the water had receded from the earth.” Genesis 8:11
You don’t need to be a Bible scholar or even a Christian to know the story of Noah. Some people were making poor choices and living life according to their desires. Noah begged God to give these people a chance, so He did; time-after-time again-and-again. The people didn’t change so God sent a flood. Noah built the ark when there was no rain or need for a gigantic boat. The earth flooded and Noah, his family, and all the animals (Even the snakes and mosquitoes. Why, God?). Every once in awhile, Noah would send a dove out to see if there was dry land. Finally, the dove returned with an olive branch.
The olive branch symbolizes peace, hope, and renewal. When the dove returned with the branch, Noah knew the flood was over and a new life was about to begin.
When we talk about the Church, I think of the olive branch. The Church isn’t a building or a place we attend. It is not something that only serves us and our needs. We are the Church. You and me. And the olive branch? That’s our ministry.
The problem with the Church is that it is filled with people. People are messy. Life happens and hurts occur. Most of us want retribution and accountability. We want those that hurt us to be held responsible for what they have done to us. Yet, we were created to be the olive branch.
Who is trying to give you an olive branch that you have denied? Who is trying to bring peace back to your relationship but you are waiting for them to pay their penalty? Who do you need to give an olive branch to? You need to relinquish the desire for payment and usher in peace. We do so by accepting or handing over the olive branch.
You see, the Church isn’t a place. It isn’t a building. It’s not something that solely gives to us and fills our needs. The Church is you and me in action giving love and grace at all times; especially when it is undeserved.
The olive branch symbolizes the Church: hope when all hope seems lost. It is a symbol of new beginnings and fresh starts. The olive branch shows love and mercy even when they are totally undeserved.
We search and search for the right church. We run from the church because there are too many hurts in that space. What we don’t realize is that the church is made up of people. That we are the Church and the olive branch is our gift.
Relinquish the desire for punishment. Let go of the need for others to be held accountable before you can love them again. Be the olive branch and you will be the Church.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
I pinned plans and pictures of farmhouse tables to my Pinterest board. It was time for us to get a new table and I had the perfect one pictured in my head. The table we had was getting a little small and a little worn …
I was sitting at Starbucks typing away and doing some research when a party of four sat down next to me. It was crowded and the tables were close. The two couples chatted about general life stuff for the first ten minutes or so. Yes, …
FLASHBACK FRIDAY
I am a recovering perfectionist. Weeellll, I can’t honestly say I’m recovered, but I am working on getting there. I did have to do about a bazillion things and get them all perfectly in order before I could sit down and write today. So there’s that.
I have always chased perfection. Ever since I was little, I have had a longing for everything to be in its place; including my life. My lovies had a particular place on my bed. The knick-knacks and barbies all had a home. When I got married, my husband used to mess with my throw pillows because I had to have them in a certain order. I usually can’t sit down until everything is picked up and put away. When something in my life goes wrong, I react illogically and emotionally and typically clean and organize like a mad woman. It’s my fantasy for control.
Perfection is not attainable this side of Heaven.
I was on a walk admiring the scenery around our town lake. Everything grows naturally. There are so many types of plants, bushes, and trees. The turtles sun-bathe on the logs floating in the water. It’s gorgeous. Some people would love to see the landscape a little more manicured. I like it a little wild which is in contrast to how I like my life. Neat and tidy vs. wild and unruly. I enjoy the lake disorderly and overgrown. My life? Not so much.
As I exited the trail, I thought about my boys. I thought I wanted perfection for them. But, I don’t. Perfection isn’t reality. I want them to live life, make mistakes, and experience reality. I don’t want them chasing something that they will never find. I want them to grow naturally, like the foliage around the lake. It is in that wild growth where beauty blossoms.
We desire to protect our children. We long to keep them safe and cushion them from getting hurt knowing that our hearts will shatter just as hard as theirs, if not more. But, when I look back at my journey, I see a slew of mistakes and bumps in the road that made me who I am today. My mistakes and the twists and turns of life taught me, humbled me, challenged me, made me stronger, shifted perspective, shifted directions, and taught me more than I would ever had known had I lived a sheltered life. I don’t want my boys to hurt, but I do want them to learn.
“Not that I have already obtained it or have already become perfect, but I press on so that I may lay hold of that for which also I was laid hold of by Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:12
Perfection isn’t reality until eternity. If I convince my sons that they can live a perfect life than I am preventing them from wanting more for themselves, for their friends, for their families, for the strangers they meet. I don’t want to limit them by sheltering them from imperfection.
I look at the trail down by the lake seeing the untamed landscape and am reminded that life grows there. Life expands in all its twists and turns and knotted limbs. Sometimes, there is overgrowth that needs to be trimmed back or weeds that need pulling. But, that’s where experience happens and wisdom matures.
I want life for my kids (and myself), not perfection. I will (slowly) give them wings as they filter out this life being there to help them trim back the impassable trail and pull out the stuff that’s choking them down. I will remind them that they were meant for more: their longing is a longing for eternity where perfection will meet them at the gates. For now, however, I will teach them to embrace the longing for perfection and not to shy away from the imperfect because that’s where Jesus resides. I will show them my scars and allow them to see that mommy, too, lives an imperfect life. We will trudge along together on the path where the terrain runs wild and free learning, growing, and searching for the only One that can bring us true perfection.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
It’s that time of year again; the time when things come to an end and we get to stop making school lunches. Ah. Sweet summertime. By the middle of May, we are all pining for lazy days, swimming to take the place of showers, and …
Dear End of the School Year,
You got me. Long gone are the days of a freezer filled with meals ready to bake. No longer are lunches packed perfectly the night before containing sweet little love notes to my boys. Clothes are not washed and organized on Sunday ready for the week’s wear. The alarm goes off and I do not immediately spring into action ready to tackle the day before me. Nope. You got me end of the school year. You got me good.
The snooze button is often hit one too many times. Lunches are packed in a panic as I wipe the drool off my face impatiently waiting for my coffee to finish brewing. I have every good intention to pre-make dinner stocking our freezer full, but find myself instead scrambling to make dinner because I forgot to defrost the meat, yet again. Laundry piles are high and school forms forbear to be signed. School projects are completed the night before they are due. Library books are forgotten on the shelf at home and reading logs lack a parental signature.
We are all longing for the lazy days of summer. Bare feet and sleeping in are on the agenda. I long for the days where I don’t take a shower because we have been at the lake all day not because I am running around and don’t have the time. I long for snow cones for dinner and side walk chalk covering my driveway; days where we play outside well into the night not knowing the time nor caring. I need days that aren’t demanding we be somewhere on time or have something to do. Days where we watch too much TV because it is too hot to be outside. Fireworks, swimming, and the smell of sunscreen on my skin is beckoning me. I want to eat fresh watermelon and burgers right off the grill. I am ready to feel the warm ground under my bare feet watching my kids get dirty and sweaty in the heat of summer.
I typically long for organization and activity as opposed to laziness and chaos. But this soul is churning for some rest. I need a break and I am not even the one going to school. I feel the teachers pushing through each day, all the while, the countdown to summer is also on their minds. I know because I used to be one. So, this organized type-A personality gal is throwing it all to the wind and surviving these next 2.5 days. Soon the school year will come to a close and endless summer days will be upon us. Our bodies will ache for routine to come back around in a few months. I will long for days planned out and meals on-hand in the freezer once again. But, for now, I long for summer. End of the year, you got me.
Love & Blessings,
Meg
I wanted to wrap-up my series on miscarriage by telling our complete story. It’s always helpful to get the whole story instead of just bits and pieces. My husband and I were married for almost four years before we started trying to have a baby. …
