won’t your let Him?

she runs from the past. becoming hardened by her anger. she is in desperate need of someone to  love her back to tender.

she is a single mom who just happens to be 19. she loves well, but she does it solo. her 19 year old heart just wants a do over with love.

she is a timid preteen that is searching for her place.

she is a girl who wants to be accepted. for just being her.

she sits alone in a crowded room. wondering if it’s her that’s the odd one. hoping that someone will just look her way and see her.

she is so very lonely.

 

 

she went to draw water on a dry and dusty afternoon.

she met Him at the well.

He offered “living water” and “told her everything she ever did”

she knew He wasn’t supposed to speak to her…she didn’t expect to see the love in His eyes.

not a love of any other man she’d met…He saw her.

REALLY SAW HER!

at first she wanted to cover her eyes so He couldn’t see so deeply..

but in her desperation, she just wanted someone to see HER.

and He did!

Beloved, His name is JESUS and He sees you!

 

she was given to a lover to produce an heir.

her mistress sent her away after God fulfilled His promise.

so, she sat under a bush while she watched her son slowly die.

and HE saw her!

in her dispair…in her loneliness.

and she wasn’t alone or invisible!

Beloved, HE sees you! El Roi is His name! 

 

He is the EVERLASTING GOD! He is the same today as He was then. He still draws us Living Water from His Well. He still looks under shrubs and sees our tears. He still looks deeply. Seeing the hidden and loving you anyway. He is the Gentle Shepherd.

Let HIM look! Let HIM see!

You are worth at least that much! (pssst…and SO MUCH MORE!)

~S

i’m still a southern girl

he held the door for my daughter and me, then tipped his hat.

“Thank you,” i said with a smile.

his returned smile caused me to remembered…

being raised in the wide open spaces of West Texas.  where sunsets filled the horizon and tumble weeds were more prevalent than trees. where oil equaled money. and “hot” meant a temperature of 100+  in the shade.

where men held open doors for EVERY lady. and “Ma’am” and “Sir” were part of everyday conversation.

that Southern Charm was something you did, not something you were taught.

i always thought i’d marry a cowboy and grow old on a porch swing watching sunsets in the desert.

but i’m so THANKFUL that God wanted MORE for me than i wanted for myself.

that He hand-picked a “Yankee” to sweep me off my feet.

he may not be a Southern boy, but he’s mine!

he may not wear a Stetson, but he looks quite cute in the occasional baseball cap.

he may prefer flip flops to spurs…

he may drive “the man van” instead of a big truck…

he may be a “Yankee” but he’s still my charming man!

he may not resemble John Wayne, but he resembles JESUS CHRIST which is A MUCH BETTER MAN!

HE’S MINE and I AM HIS!

and WE CHOOSE to do life together…till one of us goes home to wait for the other.

 

i do not live in the desert anymore. trees are sometimes less prevalent than corn. but i do still enjoy the occasional fabulous sunset.

Courteous Southern Charm is present and TAUGHT in our home.

we are slowly teaching our girls never to accept less. especially from  boys that will one day haunt visit our home.

I want my sweet girls to have doors opened for them. i want that boy to be enamored with her heart.

and so, these are the rules:

  • he will shake their father’s hand before asking to court our daughter.
  • he will call me “ma’am”.
  • he will open my baby’s door and be a man of honor or he will not get a shot at her hand!
  • he will be genuine and faithful to Christ.
  • and he will be worthy of her.

and when the day comes when we give her away, he will pledge himself to her and choose to do life with her till death.

cause every lady deserves that.

the occasional tipping of a hat is a plus too! 🙂

~s.rae

Sometimes it takes a good cry

 

in my teens and early twenties i hated to cry. i did my best not to, specially when people could see.

now…i cry and i’m better.

my husband would tell you that i wear my heart on my sleeve. and he would be right.

do you ever wonder why we cry? it’s silly really when you think about it, water makes it where you can’t see and you get snot everywhere. but it’s so cleansing sometimes, isn’t it?

washing away the worry, the fear, the anger, the hard. making you better afterward.

i think tears are a good thing, a needed thing, and sometimes the only  thing…

my oldest babe is emotional like her mother, and i don’t want life to harden her! i don’t want her to ever feel like she cannot cry or to live in a world where tears are not allowed!

 i don’t want her to live a life dictated by how she feels either!

this week as she wept because she was confused.  i closed my eyes (i do that to focus when i’m agitated…try it it’s a good trick!) and held her little hands in mine.

“you are in control of your emotions. you need to tell your eyes to stop…we can fix this after you are in control again.”

no it didn’t help. she went to lay down for a bit, and came back later, better.

we are in control of our emotions, they do not control us.

i think we get that wrong so often. letting “our feelings” dictate our actions , leaving the conscious choice by the wayside along with the repercussions  that said emotions caused.

we do have control over them if we so choose.

and that’s what i try to teach my girls. not that their tears are bad, but that they don’t have to cry if they don’t want to.

i’m sure we’ll have to learn that lesson in reverse the first time their little hearts get broken and when puberty makes life confusing. but for now, i hope we are learning how to trust the Father to dictate  life and not our feelings.

as for me…i’m learning to “use my words” instead of my tears.

i’m learning to save them for when there are no words. when cleansing is what the Father needs to do.

and i’m finding it’s better this way…

i didn’t choose to be a nun

“what do you want to be when you grow up?” she asked as we floated in our flip-side pool pretending to be in a big one.

“a nun or a mom.” was always my answer.

“but what else?”

“nothing else.”

every time i give my testimony, it begins something like this:

“i always wanted to be a nun or a mom. and since i’m not Catholic, i’m a mom.”

giggles and head nods usually follow.

“mom” is defined as: a female parent. but “mom” is so much more than that. 

she’s a  late night snuggler, a definer of words, an answer-er of questions, feeder of mouths, changer of diapers, tickle monster, doer of laundry, player of repetitive games, reader of repetitive books, color-er of pages, lover of husband, and is honored to love her children.

whether she works outside of the home or not, she is so much more than “a female parent.”

i miss my girls when they’re not with me. i don’t know what to do w/ myself when they’re absent.

i’m sure to some it would seem that i have no life. that i’m stuck at home all day. or that i have actually ever had a bonbon or watched a soap opera.

BUT I DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY!

i am living my calling.

not always with a sincere smile on my face, not always w/ a quiet and gentle tone, but LIVING it nonetheless.

yesterday #2 asked me, “what does a soul look like?”

“it looks like who you really are. we are a soul with a body on.” i replied.

her sister went on to explain it in kid terms.

i looked at #2 as her little mind switched topics and smiled.

it’s an honor to be their “female parent.” to watch them grow. to start to understand the world around them. and in all of that, i pray that i’m living my calling to the fullest.

not only putting their needs before my own, not only struggling to learn patience, but LIVING this MOM Calling.

and not only because i’m not catholic, but because THE FATHER chose me for this calling. CHOSE ME!   me with all my faults, with my temper, and with my “what about me?”s.

i was hand picked to be their mother. and i’m humbled by the thought.

do i fear messing them up? YES!

do i fear they’re missing something because this moron is their mother?  YES!

but as in all things i hear HIM say, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”

and i know that when i am weak, then i am strong!

and ya know what, i don’t think i would have chosen to be a nun anyway.

~s

P.S. you. yes you, dear mother. you are precious. you are doing the most difficult, most fulfilling JOB there is. you are shaping lives. being used by THE CREATOR to help grow a person. you are ENOUGH! Jesus offers strength in your weakness. Rest in your exhaustion, and joy in the sad and difficult. how do i know? BECAUSE HE IS GIVING ME THE SAME THING! and I know i couldn’t live another day if He didn’t. so hold your chin up, and embrace this mom-calling. i’m rooting for you from here.

 

 

 

and time passed

She chose a life of counterfeit. thinking that by being so,  she would convince herself that the lie was true.

and time passed

her Father chose and brought prince charming to her door. she answered and let herself be swept away.

as their courtship escalated to love and “forever” no longer just a word, he convinced her to shed her counterfeit suit. showing her that it no longer fit and that what was beneath was beauty and a deformed God made suit that could be remedied with time.

he begged her to burn it, to let the underneath shine through the ashes. with struggle and tears, she did.

and time passed

with timidity she learned to let Her Master straighten her twisted deformed limbs. mending and straightening gently. her beloved was there holding her hand through the pain. encouraging through the struggle to healing. her prince was brave and strong. their love for each other magnificent.

and time passed.

sadly the others in the kingdom didn’t recognize the princess without her counterfeit suit.

preferring that of their memories rather than the memorable beauty of the present.

wishing her to stroll on old paths. hold old hands. laugh old laughs and sing old songs while wearing that which they recognized.

they did not know that her suit had long been ash.

she and her prince much preferred the God made to the counterfeit. the real to the fake. the ordained to the mundane.

and time passed

the prince and princess were happy and they LIVED forever after!

change of view

 

its funny how over time view changes

how we see ourselves.

how we see others.

how we see “things” in general.

i’m finding the longer that i walk with the Lord the more I see through His eyes.

i guess this is what “working out your salvation” really means.

not taking pieces of the Word to see what fits my life…but looking at things again and again from different angles till i see it His way.

view…what do i see when i see the hurting? the “lost”? the broken? the mourning among us?

what do i see?

there was a time when i saw what i wanted to see…judgement being an instinct.

and then mercy happened. (see definition)

i asked God to show me people  like He sees them.

so often i’ve gotten that part wrong too, but i think i’m finally starting to see it slightly more His way than mine.

looking at His kids like i look at my own.

loving them…crying with them…laughing with them…offering a hand up and a shoulder to cry on.

cause isn’t that what Jesus did?

i think that’s what loving the least of these looks that.

not judging them for their ick or even trying to fix it.

but just giving them something to eat, something to drink, clothing them, looking after and visiting them.

cause let’s face it…WE ALL HAVE ICK!

“There is no one righteous, not even one;
    there is no one who understands;
    there is no one who seeks God.
All have turned away,
    they have together become worthless;
there is no one who does good,
    not even one.

instead let’s love and THEN help others keep out of the icky puddles.

not because we’re better…but because we know that this view is!

 

brave.

BRAVE

 

i’m not

i guess i should say, i’m not most of the time.

because when it comes to my kids, i am.

i have to be.

it’s like when i get sick first and then they catch it, i can’t be sick anymore because they need me.  maybe bravery is like that.

I am brave because they cant be.

i have a friend who wrote something phenomenal. she was brave to say what she said. to relive some things in order to heal.

she’s brave!

i’m married to a man who goes to work with mostly women everyday. he’s brave!

am i brave for me though?

are you?

bravery as a choice…i guess so. everything else in this life is.

my youngest asked me about death:

“what happens to your body?”

“you are a soul with a body love. not the other way around.”

“what’s a soul?”

“it’s who are inside your head.”

?

“if i cut your toe off you’d still be you.”

“hehehe”

brave is answering the hard questions.

speaking to those who need my bravery, so they can choose bravery in this moment too.