Gather

On Tuesday, registration opened for IF:Gathering 2016.  The event is held live in Austin, Texas, but it is simulcast into IF:Locals that are hosted by women desiring to disciple.  How long did it take for the 2,000 spots in Austin to sell out?

4 minutes.

FOUR MINUTES!

That's crazy!  Why are so many women wanting to be involved in this?  What in the world is IF?

Here's my story, in brief:

In January 2014, my mom started telling me that I needed to come to a conference at her church, 2 hours away.  It was a simulcast and she just felt like I really needed to come, and to bring 2 of my girlfriends along. "It's called IF", she said.

"If what?" I asked.

"If God is real, then what?" she answered.

"I still don't get it." 

"I'm not entirely sure, either, but Ann Voskamp and Jen Hatmaker are speaking."

"OK, I'm in," I relented and then convinced my friends, Kerin and Jen, to come along.  "It's free and a night away at my parents' house." 

Kerin agreed.  Jen said she shouldn't.  Then she called the morning I was leaving and said, "I need to come.  Is it too late?"

The 3 of us had a great weekend and I came back with this awakening inside me.  I had to dive deeper into this.  I needed to be involved but had no idea what that looked like.  When women at church who knew I had went to it asked me how it was, I answered that I wanted to host one the following year if they did it again.

They did.  I did.  26 women in my area showed up and I spent the weekend in tears at God's goodness.

Gather.  Equip.  Unleash.  That's the motto of IF:Gathering.  Gather women together to equip them before unleashing them into their communities to make disciples.

I can't tell you how many friendships have formed out of this.  I can't begin to describe the awakening I've seen in women I know.  They are suddenly walking around with this hunger to be in their Bibles, mentoring younger women, sharing the Gospel with people around them.  It's beautiful.  It's the Church in action.

When we start to break down the barriers of denominations and culture and race, we start to get a glimpse of Heaven.  I attend a Baptist church.  My pastor was raised Christian Reformed and his wife is pretty charismatic.  I did not grow up Baptist.  Tim and I are more Spirit-led now than we've ever been.  It can be very frustrating to drive around our small town and see way more churches than I think there needs to be, all because of small differences, most being man-made. 

I think that is why I love IF:Gathering.  They love church and are for the church.  If you are not a part of a church, then they encourage you to get into one.  It's important to them.  Yet, they know that together we need to be the Church. Talk about and respect the differences, but stop letting it divide us from working together to spread the Gospel.  It's not the Baptists vs. the Lutherans vs. the Catholics vs. the Methodists vs. non-denominationals vs. the Wesleyans vs. the Pentecostals.

Gather.  Equip.  Unleash.

If you would like to attend an IF:Local in your area, check out ifgathering.com and search for one in your area.  If the closest one is 2 hours away - go anyways.  It's worth it!  Or, pray about hosting one in your own home or church if there is not one close to you already.  You won't regret it!    

Senders

We've been leading our small group from church for the last 4-5 years.  There have been changes within it as families have moved away or new families have joined.  The transitions have always been very seamless.

The people in our group have been faithful prayer warriors.  They've been listening ears.  They've shared wisdom and knowledge.  Together we have dived into theology and studied books of the Bible and people in the Bible.  Every Monday (besides summer, school breaks, and Michigan weather days) we have gathered in each others' living rooms and walked through our time of study.

It's been great.

Tonight, however, was mine and Tim's last night meeting with them.  We have recently felt like God is pulling us toward our neighborhood, the people we live around. Who are they?  After 7+ years living in our house, we don't honestly know some of their names!  So often we're so wrapped up in ourselves that we haven't even considered the lives and souls of the people within our walking distance, the ones that are writing the same street name down on forms they fill out when asked to give an address.

We don't know what this looks like.  It's scary for me as it is outside of my comfort zone.  I don't mind meeting new people now and then.  To really put yourself out there, though, and try to invite new people into your life is a bit vulnerable.  Yet we want to walk in obedience to what we believe God is telling us to do. 

When we met with a couple from our group over the weekend to hand over the reigns to them, they commented on how they pictured the small group being our "sending group."  When missionaries leave to enter the field, they typically have a "sending church" that is backing them financially, prayerfully, etc.  I loved the picture of this group that has spent so many years together being the ones kind of sending us out into a new endeavor, covering us in prayer. 

Transitions in relationships can be difficult.  We will still see our small group friends around church and town and in life, but it will be a little different.  Not every Monday night will be spent in their company anymore.  Yet we'll be connected through prayer and I'm grateful for their relationships in our lives. 

Bedtime

Yesterday, I had a mass text message from a friend looking for advice in dealing with her 10 year old son who constantly pouts.  I couldn't help her because I have a 10 year old son carrying around attitude like it's his job.  Thankfully, a wiser-than-us friend came to the rescue:
Hormones are coming into play I am sure...Give opportunity to explain feelings daily and privately but sometimes a girl/boy just has to sulk.  End of day...How are you feeling?  What did you enjoy about today?  Was there anything that bothered you today?  Share that [his] emotions affect you and impact the family. You've got this.  I've heard that bedtime is one of the most opportune times for sharing.  Lights low, and no eye contact paired with physical closeness can really open a kid up.  We snuggle our kids nightly. It takes a while but they value the time.  

I decided to try this out tonight.  I've heard the "high-low" conversation suggested multiple times as something to do over dinner but I started thinking that this approach makes a lot more sense for our family.  For instance, over dinner, one child may not want to open up about a low point in front of their siblings when everyone is looking at him or her.  I felt like the bedtime opportunity seemed like a non-threatening environment.

As I climbed onto the bed next to Noah, I asked him how we was feeling. He said, "What do you mean?" I think he thought I was trying to ask if he felt sick.  I said, "Are you happy, sad, mad, tired?"  He laughed and said, "Happy.  Really happy."  I went through the other questions and he talked for a long time about his favorite part of the day.  He thought for a moment about what might have bothered him but said he couldn't come up with anything.  I used the time to talk to him about a situation earlier that had happened and explained how it made an impact on some other family members.

You know what?

Instead of brushing me off or tuning out like he usually seems to, I could tell he was actually listening to what I was saying.  I think about how sometimes when I'm mad at Tim about something, or if I am struggling to explain how I'm feeling if it's self-esteem related, it seems to tumble out when we turn off the lights and go to bed.  When he can't see my face, I feel safer spilling my emotions and thoughts.  It shouldn't surprise me that my son would feel the same thing.

We're going to start adopting this into our bedtime routine.  I'm hoping that by doing it now, it will start to create an environment in which our kids feel safe to talk to us about what they might be struggling with as they grow older.  A full decade ago, Noah was cradled in either mine or Tim's arms each night while he fell asleep sucking down his last bottle.  There was something memory-sweet about cuddling next to him tonight and listening to him talk.  

Mother-Daughter

Woops.  While enjoying a lazy gloomy-weather Saturday, I forgot to hop on and put up a post on Saturday.  I'm a day late, but here it is.  

This kind of post is not one that my mom typically enjoys me writing because I think emotionally it's difficult for her to read as a grandparent (so, Mom, you can stop reading if you want, but I think you should stick it out.)  However, I find that when we are able to share even the broken and ugly parts about ourselves and how we're being formed through them, it makes us real to other people, lets them know that they're not alone if they're sharing a similar struggle, and brings God glory in the redemption.

I was overjoyed when I find out I was expecting a girl back in late 2007.  After Tim shot down the name Adalynne and I shot down the name Iris, we quickly settled on Eleanor Lee, giving her the first name of his maternal grandmother and the middle name came from my paternal grandmother's middle name.  I remember late in the pregnancy when they started telling me I was showing signs of pre-eclampsia (which, thankfully, never actually happened), I would have to go in for Non-Stress Tests and occasional ultrasounds to check development of lungs, etc.  During one of these ultrasounds, they captured the most beautiful picture of her.  She had these full lips, we called them her Angelina Jolie lips, and little wisps of hair that you could see kind of breezing in the amniotic fluid.  It made me even more excited to meet her.

I remember writing this blog post, dealing with a concern that was so opposite from all the moms I heard around me: not how can I love another child as much as my first, but what if I love my second child MORE than my first because we're of the same gender and I can relate to her?  Imagine my surprise when life hit.

After a difficult labor and delivery, resulting in a spinal headache from an epidural gone wrong, this beautiful bundle made her entrance. 

I'm not going to lie, the first 7 years have been rough. Something just didn't click between us.  I think a lot of it goes back to me having to spend the first week of her life flat on my back, helpless.  We brought her home on  a Monday afternoon and were back in the hospital first thing Tuesday morning to find out why I kept having this pain, headache, passing out.  Tim and I spent that day in a darkened hospital room with him holding Ellie, passing her to me when she needed to nurse, and then taking her back so I wouldn't drop her.  As I was having my blood patch done, I could hear her screaming in another room, wanting to eat and have me not be available to meet her need.  I think Tim finally relented and accepted a bottle of formula to give her some kind of nourishment.  I was even more frustrated later that day, when, finally feeling good enough to bend down and pick something up, I knocked the patch off and there was nothing more to do but let it heal on its own while chugging cherry coke to lessen the headache and resting my head on frozen bags of peas and corn.

I am a detailed and structured person.  While I enjoy times of spontaneity, I also like schedules and knowing what to expect when.  I do not like surprises.

Ellie is a free spirit.  Carefree and artistic, she does not like being tied down.  It has taken me a LONG time to appreciate this about her because it is opposite of my nature.  We have spent the past 7+ years butting heads, yelling at each other, me apologizing to her again and again and again and again.  I have received countless lectures from my mom on needing to back off, watching the words I speak about Ellie, and figuring out how to love her.

Then something shifted recently.  I mean, within the past 3 weeks.  I went away to a conference in Orlando and since I came back, things have been different with her.  I have been more patient and have tried to connect with her in her world.  She has respected when I really do just need a break and the opportunity to sit down by myself after spending a morning teaching them.  Her hugs are tighter and more often.  She cuddles up next to me in church with her head against my arm.  She has broken me down in a good way.  She is shattering a hard exterior that has probably sub-consciously been built up when I was just trying to survive post-partum.

Sometimes you think life is going to go a certain way and it doesn't.  Relationships turn out different than you think they're going to, even in the mother-daughter world.  Your perfect dream doesn't look quite as you imagined it, so then it's up to you to shift to the reality if you want to make it work.  I could continue to fight to make Ellie who I think she should be instead of appreciating how God made her.  Honestly, though.  I am tired of breaking her spirit and I'm ashamed of it.

We're on a path forward to healing and renewal and I wouldn't trade it for the world.  
 

Forts & Villages

I saw the relationship between my children change in significant ways this summer.

I'm sure a large part of it is due to each of them getting older so they're playing well with each other instead of the younger ones always destroying creations of the older ones.  My oldest and third-born have never gotten along well with each other.  Now, they will spend hours playing Legos together and actually enjoying the company of the other.  Whatever the cause is, it was a true joy to watch and listen to all of them play with each other (the majority of the time.  Don't get me wrong - they still fight.)

One of the things that I loved witnessing was the creation of their forts and villages.  It started small.  My daughter became obsessed with wanting to sell things after a friend and I had a garage sale earlier this summer.  She would go to the neighbors' houses and they would graciously buy stones from her.  She thought she would try her hand at selling sticks and that was when the oldest came into play.

"Let's set up stick stores in the backyard," I heard him say one morning.  They all tromped out, collected sticks, and set up "stores" in our backyard (which feels woodsy despite the fact we live in town.)  Their currency was in air soft bullets that they found around the back yard, leftover evidence from kids on another block passing through during an escapade.  Every morning they would head out to the backyard after breakfast and I would call them in for lunch.  The afternoon looked similar.  I would clean out air soft bullets from pockets and the lint trap in the dryer.

Soon their individual stores became a village.  A bank and a jail sprouted up as they started playing "Cops and Robbers."  Visiting friends and cousins set up their store fronts when they came to play.  A mayor was elected (naturally, my oldest, except when his cousin of the same age was visiting and then they shared the title.)  They spent almost the entire summer playing together this way.

Forts popped up everywhere we went.  While playing with friends at the beach, a girls' fort and boys' fort were formed in the dune grass and a "Capture the Flag" type game ensued.  My friend and I loved looking up at the hill and seeing our boys in their adventuring state, looking like survivors in the wild: sticks at the ready.

We went camping with my family in mid-August and were not surprised to see the excitement as they discovered areas along the shore covered with limestone that quickly became forts and stone stores.  If they weren't up by the tents eating, they were down in their forts playing, lost in a world they had created.

I loved this summer.  I loved watching the way their creativity flourished.  I was stunned to see the depths to which their imaginations could take them within the detail of their forts and villages.  More than anything, I loved seeing them want to play with each other - from the 10 year old to the 7 year old to the 5 year old to the 3 year old.  Each desired the company of the other to make their village run smoothly.

Last night after dinner, my husband and I sat at the table, lingering.  We saw our youngest in the living room trying to form pillows from the couches into a fort.  His oldest brother saw him and asked, "Do you want me to help you with your fort, Zeke?"  A smile lit up Zeke's face.

"You and me will build a fort, Noah.  Me and you." 

 

Thirsty Women

I sat in a group of 11 women this morning, Bibles open. 

For some people, a Bible study setting can be a scary thing.  The first thing we start with in ours is prayer requests and praises.  To share a serious request, you have to trust the women sitting around the table with you.  If I reveal this part of my life that desperately needs prayer, will they tell other women in their lives about it?  If I'm struggling through something, are there going to be people not in my Bible study who are aware of it the next time I walk by them?  Trust is hard, but important.

I have been participating in Ladies' Bible study at my church for the past 6 years.  Some women in the group are the same, some are new, some have left.  The group this year is bigger than last year, which I think speaks to a growing number of women who want to grow deeper in studying God's Word.

I have laughed and cried with women in my Bible study.  I have poured out my heart at times and confessed struggles that I'm not proud of.  Every time the women are loving and speak words of Truth to my soul.  I know that I can trust these sisters.  I know that we are bonded together by a love for Jesus.

Bible study morning is probably my favorite morning of the week and has been since I started attending.  There is a warmth and comfort knowing that these women don't judge but that they also want God's best for me.  They are not afraid to correct or call out sin for what it is.

It's a quite beautiful picture, really.  A group of women of different ages and from different journeys in life to come together, open their Bibles, wanting to quench a thirst to know God more...seeking refreshment and community.

   

Dancing Children

Our church does a 24 hour prayer event at the end of January.  People can sign up for an hour time slot and then they spend that hour in the church praying and listening.  This accompanies a time of fasting as well.  The 24 hours ends with the monthly prayer meeting, also a place for people to share their experience.
My prayer time was on Sunday afternoon and when it came time for me to leave, Ellie asked if she could come along.  I know I should have immediately answered, "Yes!  Of course!" and looked at it as a time of teaching and been thankful that my 6-year old wanted to come with me and pray for an hour.
My first response was to try to talk her out of it, though.  I hesitated and repeatedly pointed out that I was committed to be at the church for ONE WHOLE HOUR in prayer, not playing, but my argument fell on deaf ears as she continued to beg to come, promising that she would be quiet and pray and would not ask me when it was going to be time to leave.
I relented and she hopped in the car.
When we arrived, we walked through each room of the church, praying for the events that happen in the room, the people who enter and leave it throughout the year, the people who lead in it.  I was surprised at the way she prayed out loud in some of the rooms, epecially those she frequents herself on a Sunday morning or during AWANA.  After we had made our way through, we ended in the prayer room where I put on some music I had brought along and got out my journal.
She wandered around the room while I read my Bible, prayed, listened, and journaled.  Occasionally, she would draw.  I could tell once she wanted to ask if we were finished, but she settled herself on a couch and listened to the music instead.
Kari Jobe's song, "How Majestic" began to play through the speaker and not long into it, I noticed Ellie had gotten off the couch and was beginning to gently sway around the room.  Her arms went up above her head and she said, "Join me, Mom."
What??
No, thanks.  Isn't dancing outlawed in Baptist churches?  What if the people scheduled to pray after us showed up early and saw me? What if I tripped, sprained an ankle, and had to explain by saying, "Well, I was dancing in church...."
But I looked at her, singing and dancing before her Lord, her Abba Father, in a recital for her audience of One.  While my heart still held reservations that came from years of jaded church experiences and hurts and an overall self-conscious way of worshiping because someone may judge me, her experience was truly that of a child.  Caught up in music of praise, knowing she has a God who loves her, she gave her offering of worship with abandon.
How do I do that?
How do I throw off everything and worship freely?
I stood and joined her.  We held hands and circled, singing along with Kari Jobe.  We twirled pirouettes as tears wet my cheeks.  Oh, the joy!  If the Moores arrived early for their assigned hour, they may find us crazy, but who cared at that point?  Not me and certainly not Ellie.

My daughter taught me an important lesson that day.  She helped me remember who it is at the receiving end of my praise, who it is I sing to.  He just wants me to come to Him, worship Him. He lifts my heart and my head and my soul.

"All rise
All rise
In highest praise
Your name
Will reign through all eternity
Our hope
Our strength
Our victory
We bow down
At your feet
How majestic is Your name
How majestic is Your name
Jesus
Wonderful, powerful
You're the Lord of all
How majestic is Your name."
Kari Jobe, "How Majestic"

"Praise the Lord!
Sing to the Lord a new song,
his praise in the assembly of the godly!
Let Israel be glad in his Maker;
let the children of Zion rejoice in their King!
Let them praise his name with dancing,
making melody to him with tambourine and lyre!
For the Lord takes pleasure in his people;
he adorns the humble with salvation.
Let the godly exult in glory;
let them sing for joy on their beds."
Psalm 149:1-5

Eleanor of Mine

There are dishes to be cleared off the table, boys playing (and at times arguing) in the Lego room, a husband trying to fix a pipe in the bathroom, and a puppy under everybody's feet.  The night is not going the way any of us anticipated.

I was upstairs in a bedroom, with a sobbing girl curled up in my lap.  Half an hour before that moment, she threw her glasses on the table and stomped away from dinner, crying that she didn't want to eat the food in front of her.  Minutes later, while the rest of us were in conversation about the day, she came back, calmly took her glasses back in her hands, and as I heard Tim yell, "Ellie, NO!" I also heard the crack and snap of the flexible, "unbreakable" frames. 

With that, she was scooped up by a frustrated (and rightfully so) father, placed in her bedroom, and told it was early to bed for her.  Because, really, what person who isn't overtired and exhausted, snaps her glasses? 

Now, let me just say that God somehow took over my mind and body right then and there because the following would be an unusual reaction for me.  Normally, I'm the one wound so tight that those snapped frames would have resulted in me being the one to scoop her up, drop her into bed, and seethe until morning while mumbling over the cost of new frames and what is her problem?

What happened this time is that I gathered a pair of her favorite pajamas from the pile of folded laundry in my room, brought up her toothbrush and toothpaste, and a hair brush.  I calmly went up to her room, helped her get ready for bed, and sat while brushing her hair.  As she sobbed, we went over why her decision was not good.  We talked about asking for and accepting forgiveness and the peace it could bring to her heart.  I should say, I talked about forgiveness, because she had so many walls up around her that she refused to believe her dad would ever forgive her or love her again after what she did. 

I took her out of bed, wrapped her up in my arms, and started to pray over her with intensity.  When you can feel the war within a child, it's heartbreaking.  When you know that you're the cause of some of it, it's...well, I can't even find an accurate word.  You feel like a failure of a mother, that's for sure. 

As I prayed over her, taking responsibility and confessing words she has heard me say about her, or praying against words that others have said to her in the past, asking that the Lord would remove those lies from her heart, I could feel her body start to physically relax and her crying ceased.  I am not proud of it, but I have had my part in breaking her, as I try to mold her free spirit into my firstborn-Type-A-personality desires of how a "good child" should be.  While I was aware of it at the time I was praying, it wasn't until after that I truly felt it hit me. 

I started to sing "This Little Light of Mine" since I had prayed God's love and light would shine through and break the dark places hiding in her small heart.  While singing, I was reminded that "Eleanor" means "light."  I realized I have not done very well at letting my little Eleanor/Light shine.  It was one of those breakthrough moments for me. 

My mom reminds me often, very often, of the power of words and what we speak...whether or not people are even around to hear us say them.  I'm guilty of negative words.  I want to change.  This night, as it comes to a close, has also been a reminder to me of the verse I chose to meditate on today, Romans 7:15 -

"For I do not understand my own actions.  For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."

Whether it's Ellie breaking her glasses in a fit of calm anger, or me and what I speak, there is an importance in realizing life is a battle.  Light and dark.  So I will fight to let my lights shine - both God's light in me, and also to let Eleanor shine in the way God made her - footloose and fancy free, full of sparkle and song with an imagination running wild with creativity.

.