The late sleeper and the early riser.

It's 5:30am, and I'm just finishing my first cup of coffee. Maple stayed up late last night; so she won't be awake for a while.

Oh, nothing in our schedule changed.

Around 6:45pm we started putting on PJ's and washing hands and faces. Brushing teeth. Giving kisses. Quieting down.

By 7:15pm, both girls were in the bed. Lights out.

Around 7:30pm, I heard Maple singing and kicking the wall. Nothing new. She often sings herself to sleep (much to the chagrin of her older sister, with whom she shares a room).

Around 8:00pm, I heard a bump in the night. Since I was drowning in a sea of half-folded clothes, I yelled, "Get back in bed!" Silence.

A few more bumps. A few more threats. This is better than last night, I thought. Last night, I caught her sneaking out of her bedroom on all fours, flashlight in hand, crawling into the playroom.

Finally, around 10:00pm, I went to check on them before heading going to sleep myself. As part of our nightly routine, the girls and I tidy up their room. Books in place. Dirty clothes in the basket. Shoes in the closet.

Imagine my surprise when I open the door to this:



I left her there for a while. I knew daddy would come in soon and check on them, and I wanted to make sure he got the same chuckle I did. Ah, the joys of raising a toddler.

But now it's 5:33am. Not even the birds are stirring yet. It's 50 degrees outside, and there is a light breeze. I'm making hot chocolate and taking a few quilts outside to the lawn chairs.

I've been missing Chloe these days. I mean, we have been together, in location. But I'm feeling a bit disconnected from her. I want to know her little heart, and I want her little heart to know she is important to me.

So at 5:45, I'm going to sneak into her room and stroke her hair. I'm going to whisper for her to come down out of the top bunk. I'm going to help her slide her arms through her jacket sleeves and slide her little toes into a pair of pink socks.

And we're going to watch the sun rise.

Thank you, Jesus, for early mornings.

Say THAT five times fast...

Lord, thank you for freedom. Thank you that I walk in victory. Thank you that, in you, I am the head and not the tail. I am above and not beneath. Thank you that, by your stripes I am healed and set free.

I am a daughter of the High King. A princess in the Heavenly royal court. My inheritance is eternity, freedom, power, victory.

I wear the Helmet of Salvation. My mind is protected from bondage, deceit, malice, judgment - anything less than the freedom that comes through salvation.

I wear the Breastplate of Righteousness. Christ is holy; therefore I am holy. Christ is righteous; therefore I am righteous. Accusations from my past, words and judgments and old reputations - they are powerless. They hit my breastplate - the righteousness I wear in Christ, my undeniable right-standing with God - and they dissipate, evaporate, like they never existed.

I wear the Shoes of the Gospel of Peace, leaving footprints of Jesus' blood - evidence of His love and mercy - everywhere I step. My footing is sure, my steps deliberate, and my path laid before me by the Holy Spirit. I do not fear a stumble or a fall, for whether I sit or stand, walk or crawl, run ahead or lag behind, I carry Christ's gospel - the power of grace, mercy, and forgiveness - with me.

I hold in front of me the Shield of Faith. I am not afraid to advance, to step onto the field of battle, to move forward into unknown territory. Because of faith, I am allowed to love without regret. Because of faith, I can hope without fear. Because of faith, I move forward in this knowledge - if God is for me, who can stand against me?

In my right hand, I hold the Sword of the Spirit - the Word of God. It is the double-edged sword that both pierces through my own masks and fears and assumptions, and also cuts off the heads of the giants and the serpents. The truth of this sword cuts to pieces the lies of my enemies. It changes my position from offense to defense. I am not a victim; I am a victor. I am no longer under attack; I am the attacker. I am no longer the prey; I am the hunter.

With this armor, I am victorious. As a daughter of the King, THIS is my inheritance. Through Christ, THIS is my right. I am free. I am free. I am free.

Do I live a life that requires God?

This question has been haunting me over the past few weeks.

So much of my life is manageable. Doable. Acheivable. Feed the kids. Wash the clothes. Put gas in the car. Be nice at work. Be nice at home. Make the beds. Answer the emails. Cook the meals. Play the games.

Sure, there are days when that list seems overwhelming. Still, it's just... life.

I am not attempting anything daring or impossible. Nothing out of my comfort zone or beyond my own strength.

Out of obedience to the Lord, I am getting up early (most mornings), cleaning out the junk (except in my car), eating healthier (at breakfast), and shutting my mouth (except when I'm not).

These things seem so simple. Manageable. Doable. Acheivable.

Until they're not.

Until I forget that I need Him.

Until I stop spending my early mornings with him.

Until I think for one moment that I'm strong enough to do these manageable, doable, acheivable tasks on my own.

And the things is - from the outside looking in - a day when I rely on Him doesn't look much different from a day when I do.

My car still gets messy. I still fall asleep on the couch too early. I still down half a pan of monkey bread all by myself. Emails go unanswered. Things get said that shouldn't.

Technically speaking, my days with Him aren't very different from my days without Him.

Except for two things. Two things that, for me, make all the difference in the world.

Two things: grace and hope.

Grace reassures me of His love, despite my failures. Grace picks me up and dusts me off and tells me that all fall short. All. Everybody. Including me. Especially me.

Grace reminds me that I'm not known for my shortcomings. I'm known by His gift. His life. His sacrifice. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Grace tells me who I am, regardless of what I do.

And hope...

Hope lifts my head. Hope directs my sight. Hope shows me what is possible in Him. Hope reminds me that today is only a moment - and tomorrow has great promises.

Hope means I won't always be overweight. My home won't always be a wreck. My words won't always get me into trouble. My life won't always be an unfinished list.

The harsh truth is that without grace and hope, I fail. The harsher truth is that with grace and hope, I fail.

But with God's grace, today's failures don't define me. And with God's hope, tomorrow's successes are possible.

So, yes, I need God today. Even if it's just to organize a closet. Even if it's just to get dinner on the table on time. Even if it's just to live life.

Especially if it's just to live life.

5:45am

It's Saturday morning, and I am awake at 5:45am. There was a time in my life that I would have thought such an early Saturday morning was downright ungodly.

But now... now I revel in the cool, dark, quiet house that eases me into the day. It's as if I have been transported to another dimension - one where adults are allowed to finish a cup of coffee, or a chapter in a book, or (oh Heaven!) a blog. In this world, house work is easy and quick. Time with the Lord and in the Word is uninterrupted. The soul is soothed by the sound of the clocks ticking, the fan whirring, and the deep breathing of little ones in their beds.

I love that when Maple (always the early riser) stumbles out of her room and shields her eyes from the lamp light, I am there to greet her with a smile and a cuddle. I love that I have had time to gather my wits and determine that today - this morning - will not be rushed or stressful.

Bags are often packed before little feet hit the carpet. Breakfast is enjoyed together at the table. Getting dressed becomes a game and an excuse to snuggle. Fixing hair (no longer a race to remove tangles) is a discussion about hair styles and which bow matches.

I feel like I can breathe. Like I can love. And it's all because of 5:45 on a Saturday morning.

Not every morning is like this. I still have morning when fight to get out of bed before 7:15am. I still have mornings where I hit the snooze button more often than I should. And I still have mornings that are full of "hurry up" and "why aren't you dressed yet?"

But those rushed and fitful mornings only make me more grateful for right now. For sitting on my couch with a cup of coffee. For blogging. For listening to the birds and the clocks and the deep breathing. For peace.


Psalm 143:8
Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.

Werd.

I know you've been holding your breath since my last post. What could Brandy possibly be leading up to? you ask yourself. I'm on the edge of my seat with the anticipation of reading her follow-up post.

I know, friends. I know.

Now brace yourselves because, alas, the follow up must be postponed.

Try to pull yourself together and be consoled by the fact that it will come soon.... Soon I can let you in on the project that has consumed so much of my time and energy... but not today.

Today I plan to blog about housekeeping and schedules and routines. Please try to stifle your collective groans.

So I have been attempting to wake up at 5am each morning. Honestly, most mornings, I am awake before that time anyways. However, there are some mornings when I am forced to drag my tired body and heavy eyelids out of bed so I can stumble into the morning.

Why would you choose to start your day so early? you ask. Especially when you don't have to be at work until 8:30am?

Good question. And one I can answer in three simple words: God said so.

Seriously. No, I can't find scripture to back it up. No, I will not commence a 12-point-sermon on the importance of being the Early Bird (trust me, I have enough worms already... more on that later).

Now you don't have to believe me on this. And maybe you've never experienced anything like this before. But the truth is this: God woke me up at 3am several weeks ago and said, "Get out your iphone. You're going to need to take some notes."

Surrreeeuhslay.

I have only heard the Lord's voice that clearly one other time in my life. The first time it was emotional, gut-wrenching, convicting, and life-changing.

This time it was gentle, almost professional, convicting, and life-changing.

I have held onto His words for several weeks now, debating whether or not I should share it with all of society (or, you know, the 7 people who read my blog). I have, to this point, only shared it with a handful of close friends. But for those who have heard it, they too have been impacted.

So, after prayerful consideration, here is (most of) what the Lord told me:

Your ministry to your home is priority. It is your energy tithe to me. I want the first 10% of your day spent focused on your home.

You are going to have to started getting up at 5am. [5:00am - 7:30am is 2.5 hours, approximately 10% of my day!] Use this time for loving your husband in housework and meal prep, and loving your children in your time and patience. Don't be afraid to read books, go outside and play, go for walks, talk about me, cook breakfast together, or leave the house early and go to the park. These times will become your cherished time with them. Be jealous of this time. Protect it. I will use it and bless it. This small amount of time, when dedicated in obedience to me, will be the greatest display of love to your children. They will grow in the knowledge that they are VIPs. They are loved first, and not fourth or fifth. This is your daily offering to me.

For Brandon, answer his phone calls. Listen to his day. Love and support his job because that is part of who he is. And show him that he is priority by preparing your home for peace.

This home will be a respite for you both. Take care of it. Love it as a symbol of love for each other. Don't keep score. Don't bicker over chores and things that don't matter. Do every chore as an offering to me, not a to-do list forced upon you in slavery. You are free to love me this way. You are designed to love me this way. It will bring you joy and peace and room for love. And I am pleased.

Go to bed on time. Your evenings will no longer be your time to clean or work on your home. Go to bed with a messy house. See it as a symptom of love and memories and a family full of life. Then wake up refreshed and ready to reset the stage in which you will perform the acts of love for your family.

You will set the tone for your home over the coming weeks. Schedules will change. Calendars will fill up. You will be busy. But - this is very important - you do not have to be hurried. You will be busy, but you do not have to be hurried. You will be busy, but you do not have to be hurried. Allow plenty of time for what you need to do. Be early. Start before you think you need to start. This will be crucial to the atmosphere of your home because - hear me on this - you cannot love in a hurry.

Remember to seek me and my Kingdom. Remember the bottom line - to love me and love others. Everything else. Every. Thing. Else. is temporary.

Know your worth. Know that you are called to more. I will set you free. That thing that holds you captive has lost its charm. I have disarmed it. You need only to walk away. Walk into my arms. Let me walk with you. I have given you the power of life and death; so speak love to yourself. Speak love to your body and your appetite. You are created for this - to glorify me with your temple. So speak love. Your tongue is the mighty weapon with which this battle will be won.

Know that I love you. Know that I am for you. Know that these offerings are pleasing to me. Your life is pleasing to me. Walk in that knowledge. Love in that knowledge. Bless in that knowledge. Worship in that knowledge. Live your life - full as it is - in that knowledge.

I. Love. You.

More to come...

Dropping Anchor

I have called many places home in my last seven years. Although, I suppose, if my hubby and I ever talk about "home," we're referring to Athens, GA - the place we were raised and where most of our family still lives. But even when we were dating, and in our early months of marriage, we knew we wouldn't be in Athens forever.

All of our "homes" have been transient. For a season. Temporary.

And I have loved this life. I have loved knowing that my family is not called to plant roots in anything (or any place) except the Kingdom. I have reveled in the idea of a new horizon, a new city, a new landscape, a new me.

But the thing about being transient is that it's hard to lay claim to anything. It's difficult to invest in something that is fleeting, you know? I tend to maintain surfacey friendships if I know the person will be leaving me (or vice versa) in the near future. I don't hang pictures on the walls of a house if I have to patch the holes a few months later. I know it's temporary; so I wait. I know it's only for a season; so I watch the seasons change. I don't drop anchor; I just look for the next big wave to carry me away.

That's the safe thing to do, you know. It's easier to never hang pictures than mess with putty when you move. It's easier to leave the boxes upacked than to repack them later. It's easier to love a little than lose a lot.

It wasn't until my seventh month in Korea when I realized how much that mentality permeated every area of my home. My relationships. My life. It's as if the Lord opened my eyes to what I was missing - who I was missing.

I suddenly realized that, with my roots firmly planted in the Kingdom of God, I was free (and required) to love people and places with reckless abandon. It could never be wasted. I might be abandoned by people, but the love that I gave (and lost) would be invested in a far greater place and Person. I committed in those last three months that I would give 100% of myself in those relationships and people. And I have not regretted one moment of that investment.

Fast forward a year (give or take).

It's December 2010.

I'm living in Memphis, my new temporary home. Chick Nite at The Life Church. Minding my own business. Expecting to have some fun. Riding the waves.

Then the speaker began to throw out some random statistics:

"Memphis, TN was recently named the Hungriest City in America."

What's that?

"26% of people in Memphis could not afford to buy food for their families in the last 12 months."

Come again?

"83% of people who come to the Food Bank have to choose between paying for food or paying for utilities."

"32% had to choose between food and rent or mortage payments."

I feel like I can't breathe.

"One area of Memphis has one of the highest infant mortality rates in the country - nearly twice the national average."

I'm heartbroken.

Then she told a story that haunted me - that night, and several nights since then.

For Christmas, our church gave out live Christmas trees (among other things) in one of the most impoverished areas of our city. They came complete with decorations and lights - as any Christmas tree should.

When they arrived at one home, the mother said, "We don't need the lights. We don't have any electricity."

Her little boy turned to her and said, "But Mom, can we please get them anyways? It will make it feel more like Christmas."

That night, it was 12 degrees in Memphis.

Twelve. Degrees.

And here is a family without heat.

Only 10 miles from my house.

Where I snuggled in a warm bed.

My heater turned on 70 degrees.

My pantry full of food.

Leftovers in the garbage.

My two healthy, happy children deep breathing in their beds.

I wouldn't have known that it was twelve degrees outside if I hadn't looked it up on one of my two laptops.

Yeah.

I didn't sleep at all that night.

I saw the anchor splashing into the waves.

I felt the ground shift beneath my feet as the roots began to creep their way through.

I knew I couldn't live in this place - in this city - without investing.

Fast forward to today...


(come back soon for Part 2)

A few days ago, Cindy Beall posted a recap of what the Lord has done in her life since her world fell apart 9 years ago. If you don't know her story, check it out here. (You can also check out her book, which will be on shelves soon.)

At the end of her post, she asked a simple question: What sort of amazing fruit have trials produced in your life?

I left a comment without thinking much about it. Then I went back to proofread my comment. Then I read it again. And again.

By my fourth time through it, I was crying as I realized how very good the Lord has been to me.

I whined and complained. I argued and bickered. I doubted His love, and I doubted His goodness. I asked him to save me from my circumstances. I bargained and begged. I didn't talk to Him for a while. Then I worked my tail off to "earn" the answer I wanted.

And he brought me to a place where I finally had to say, "I'd rather have you." Even if everything I believed about Him was a lie. Even if He wasn't good. Even if He only loved me a little bit. Even if I could never earn my way. Even if I would live in poverty and debt for the rest of my life. Even if my marriage and life was destined for mediocrity. I would still rather have Him.

And out of that moment - the moment when I realized He really is all that I have - He birthed a new desire. No longer all I have, He is truly and undeniably all I want.

See the comment I left on Cindy's blog below:

As Christians who attended (and volunteered at) church regularly, my husband and I had the same dream – to make a lot of money and retire early. We set about purchasing properties in our hometown, with the desire to either rent them or turn them over for profit. Right after we bought our second property, the economy went to pot, and we found ourselves $35k in debt (not including the mortgages) with very little income to live on.

That was when we finally turned to the Lord and said, “What do we do?” The Lord sent us to South Korea, where we taught English at a church and made less income than we had ever made in our lives.

He taught us to live on a budget, and to live a minimalist lifestyle. We realized that we didn’t need “stuff” in order to be happy. Actually, we realized the opposite. We learned that the “stuff” (and the financial burden that came with it) was preventing us from following God’s will for our life.

We have been back in the states for 13 months and, out of obedience to Christ, we are currently renting a small home, living TV- and Internet-Free, and using every extra penny to pay off our debt. We have never been more at peace, and we are looking forward to the day when all of our time and money can be dedicated 100% to the Kingdom (and not to our credit card bills).

I love love love that the Lord removes our support, leads us into the desert, and slays us with thirst – only to have us lean on Him, hide in His love, and drink of His goodness. (Hosea 2).

Thank you for sharing your life, Cindy, and for helping me remember what He has done in mine.


.......

From Hosea 2...

She said, ‘I will go after my lovers, who give me my food and my water, my wool and my linen, my olive oil and my drink.’ Therefore I will block her path with thornbushes; I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way. She will chase after her lovers but not catch them; she will look for them but not find them.

"Therefore I will take away my grain when it ripens, and my new wine when it is ready. I will take back my wool and my linen, intended to cover her naked body. So now I will expose her lewdness before the eyes of her lovers; no one will take her out of my hands.

I will stop all her celebrations: her yearly festivals, her New Moons, her Sabbath days—all her appointed festivals.
I will ruin her vines and her fig trees, which she said were her pay from her lovers; I will make them a thicket, and wild animals will devour them.

I will punish her for the days she burned incense to the Baals; she decked herself with rings and jewelry, and went after her lovers, but me she forgot,” declares the LORD.

“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of [Trouble] a door of hope. There she will respond (or sing) as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt.

“In that day,” declares the LORD, “you will call me ‘my husband’; you will no longer call me ‘my master.’

I will plant her for myself in the land; I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not my loved one.
’
I will say to those called ‘Not my people’: ‘You are my people’;and they will say, ‘You are my God.’”