Since I am teaching both my older girls and younger boys, I’ve tried to teach the boys to ask, “Whats’s next, Mommy?” after they finish a project. I need to help them learn not to run off the minute I go help the girls. I’d say they remember 50% of the time. The other 50% they run off and make a mess somewhere in the house, and I have to go find them and show them what’s next.

Spiritually, I’m a lot like my little boys. As I’ve been teaching them to say, “What’s next, Mommy?” throughout the day, He’s been teaching me to ask, “What’s next, Father?” too.

You would never know from these photos that we were not deep in a winter wonderland…unless, I showed you the second photo of the speed limit sign. In reality we were right by the main canyon road and just off of another road that goes up to the normal sledding spots further into the mountains. With a slight shift of perspective, my camera only saw the snowy wonderland and not the road a few steps behind us. One view was an ugly, muddy mess, and the other view was beautiful and magical.

I don’t have to know where I’m going anymore. I’m fine with riding passenger. It’s taken a while to get rid of the bad theology of “The American Dream” (or most of it, I hope). I’m not the “master of my fate” or the “captain of my soul” as stated in Invictus. I’m content, joyful even, to know Jesus is leading me. Even with so many reasons to be discontented, I’ve found God has given me contentment. I’m less “in control” than I have ever been. I honestly don’t even know what this summer or next year will look like, what I’ll be doing, or if things will resolve in so many respects. Yet I know this is where God has led me. So how can I have contentment without any “game plan”?

It’s the time of year that many people look back on the year that is drawing to a close and highlight all the good or say “good riddance” and wish for a better year to come. I’ve thought often about what this year means to me in retrospect. It was certainly an “ebenezer” year, and I wish I had an actual stone to put somewhere in remembrance. It was a year I saw a true miracle: God spared my husband’s life when he had, at best, a 2% chance of survival. It was incredible, undeniable and I will never be the same or stop being grateful that we can all still be together as a family. But we can’t tie up our story with a nice bow. We can’t say “God saved Jonathan and this is why.” I can’t negate the dark valley I walked through afterwards or the fact that Jonathan still lives with a medical condition that gives him pain and hinders normal activity. He still can’t run around in the yard with our kids and he’s not back to 100%. The discouragement and limitations that continual nagging pain causes is hard for us both, especially because it looks like there may not be any resolution on the horizon apart from another miracle of God. 

Limitations can be blessings if we let them. Have you ever thought of how most songs, even something as complicated as a piece in a symphony, is technically comprised of only 7 different notes of a single scale? The art of painting is even more limited. All the colors used come from a mere 3 primary colors. Drawing is mostly made up of 3 shapes: circles, triangles, and rectangles. All the beauty of nature cycles through 4 seasons, year after year after year. Whole worlds are created from these limited means.

The hardships I’ve been through, this past year especially, have felt like falling overboard in the middle of the ocean and plunged into icy depths. The undertow is stronger than my ability to push upwards, and am horrified to find my struggle only takes me deeper and deeper down. My only hope left is God, and without His help I will certainly drown. Maybe you’ve been there too. There are in life those moments that take all the breath from your lungs and all the strength from your body and soul. All the light of day becomes small fragmented beams that dance mockingly on the surface of what pulls you under.

I remember when I was in the throws of having newborn twins, moving into a new house, and starting a new homeschool year. We had just transitioned from three kids to five. It was a continual cycle of feedings, meal making, school, feedings, and naps. Rinse and repeat all day. To be honest I was living in survival mode, constantly stressed and frazzled. I never got much of a break and was needed nearly 24/7. I wanted to find joy in my numerous blessings, my five kids, and our life, instead of drowning in all the work it took to keep everyone alive and fed. I wanted to be a calm and gentle mom, not a stressed-out mom. I wanted God’s peace, not a constantly hectic feeling.

Our sweet little Elias broke his collarbone last week. It was pretty rough to see him so pitiful and hurting. After his accident he wasn’t very responsive, which was so scary for me to experience so soon after Jonathan’s emergency surgery and ICU stay. At the ER I watched him being scanned by the same machines that had just scanned my husband and hooked up to heart rate and oxygen monitors, all of which felt eerily similar to what I’d just been though. As I sat in the ER room waiting for answers about our son, I wondered why God would allow this to happen as I was just finding healing from nearly losing my husband. I couldn’t hold back the tears as my precious son grimaced in pain and the surroundings took me back to those trying days in the ICU.

No risk. No reward.

We’re often willing to take many risks in life. Financially we make that investment. Relationally, we reach out to that guy or girl we like. We send that text with our heart attached. We book that plane ticket. Interview for that job. Climb that mountain. Sign that mortgage. We know we might loose out or fall our face in the process of “risking it,” but we know what might be on the other side makes it “worth the jump.” Read a just about any self-help or business book, and you’ll find the message is unanimous: take a risk…you might fail, but get up and do it again until you make it. We know this “no risk, no reward” principle is true in life. We’re willing to take a risk on a lot of things in order to gain whatever it is we desire.

But when is the last time you took a risk in your faith? Jesus is pretty clear about the call to follow Him. It’s all or nothing. It’s complete surrender. And yet, we often act like we can choose the “safe bets” with God. It’s easy to be afraid that if we take that jump, He might have us do something crazy, you might look foolish, or it may involve suffering. Again, Jesus is upfront about the call: yes, it will most assuredly involve suffering, and He will probably take you somewhere you never imagined you’d be. He also uses the “foolish things to shame the wise.” (1 Cor. 1:27) But it’s the most sure risk there is! He says that risking it on Him produces eternal dividends. We can stop taking risks for our own little kingdoms and start taking risks for His. Maybe we forgot which kingdom lasts forever, or that our life here can count for something so much more than just for today or 30 years from now.

At the end of December I felt the urge to step away from the sphere of social media as I entered into the new year. I needed a sabbath for my mind, and to clear out extra clutter and noise. I have mostly found social media a positive place. It can be harnessed for immense good, foster beautiful connections, opens up great entrepreneurial opportunities, and help us reach further than ever before. In fact, you're reading this on a screen right now and I may not even know who you are. That's pretty amazing. I also had an online-based business for 5 years, and was so blessed to connect with people from all over the world. There is much to be gained from our online world, and yet I confess, it is easy to put too much importance on what happens online. I have often struggled with getting on and zoning out, consciously and unconsciously comparing myself to others, or caring too much about what I see and the little numbers on posts. Even if it is mostly positive, those positive things can still negatively affect my heart. I'm no psychologist, but I think a lot of people see themselves negatively affected by so much "connection" via screens and social media. For me personally, it was so refreshing to unplug. I reached for books, instead of scrolling on my phone. I had to ask friends what is going on in their lives, because I didn’t read about it online. I allowed myself to experience a lull during downtime, and found my mind quickly filled the space productively. I went about my life without knowing what everyone else was up to, and it helped me find deeper contentment in my ordinary. It was like a cloud lifted from my mind and my thoughts found more clarity. But even when I stepped back I knew I wouldn't stay away for very long. The nature of our world has changed, and it's all online. For better or worse.

This year I really don’t want to post about anything we’re doing for Valentine’s Day. It’s not that those things aren’t good, or that I don’t want to celebrate my wonderful husband or do fun things with my girls. But looking at so many posts gets to be too much sometimes. I don’t know were your click on this post fell in your feeds full of happy faces, lovely dates, crafted perfection or special gifts, and I just don’t want to be another one of those this year. Instead, I want to tell you a story about a time I messed up.

I had just made one of those sweet, heartfelt posts for a special occasion…you know, sort of like today. I was happy and feeling the love. Later that day, the same special person I wrote about said something and I took it the wrong way. I’d like to say I responded in a loving and gracious manner, but the truth is that I didn’t. In my pride, I responded selfishly. And I felt pretty awful about it afterwards. I wish I could say I repented right away as well, but again, I didn’t. Putting something kind and loving online is a lot easier than actually being kind and loving all the time. Of course, I’m not advocating that we should all share our mess-ups with the world online. It’s just that what we say online and what we do in person are sometimes different. I’m no more immune to my own humanity than anyone else, but I carried around the shame of my words the rest of the day. I felt the dichotomy between what I had said and how I had acted, and it felt like a chasm.

To be “on fire” is often how we term someone who is visibly passionate for God, and the ones who seem consumed by working for God’s glory. It’s a good term. Rewind about 15 years, and you’ll find little teenage Jenny (as I was called then) sitting on her bed reading of the heroes fo the faith, and asking God to make her “on fire” too. I wanted to live out God’s purpose for my life with passion, all in and whole-hearted…on fire. But how does it actually happen?

I don’t know much about building fires, but I do know that you can’t rush it if you want it to be long-lasting. Sure, you can get a lot of heat quickly by grabbing anything flammable, pouring gasoline on top and lighting it. Will it last? Probably not. A truly good fire takes experience to construct. It needs the right kind of wood, kindling and design. Our lives are the sticks for the flame. God has created us with passions fit for a purpose in His Kingdom. The potential for flame is there and often the desire for it too. The problem with passion and wanting to be “on fire” comes when we rush God’s purpose or try to arrange our lives on our own. We feel a nudge towards our calling, and feel as though it must happen immediately. I sense God’s calling, so I want to pour gasoline on everything. I want the sticks to light. I want to see a tangible result in burning brightly. It’s easy to think God should make our flame start quickly. We’re passionate, after all! We want to follow the Lord’s calling on our lives. And then we look around us and don’t see it happening how we envisioned. Our sticks aren’t arranged how we think they should be. Maybe we question, “Surely my calling can’t happen here?” Or perhaps we look at someone else and think our fires should burn like theirs. We can easily presume that we know the way God should light the fire of our lives. We can go after things in our own strength, but we’ve all seen how that turns out: burn out. Lasting fire comes when we first let God arrange the sticks of our lives and light them in His time.

Life has seasons, just like nature. It has been so helpful for me to view my life through the lens of seasons. They don't last forever, and whether enjoyable or not they do pass. Around the time we got married 7 years ago, I had a year-long season of stillness. It was a humbling time when our dreams seemed like they'd never work out and God said "no" to so many things. It was also an incredible time of growth in my life, and God's nearness was palpable. When we got married, we thought our plan was for Jonathan to finish school and then head off to seminary. We'd both get our Masters of Divinity and then head out to serve God in some big, beautiful way. After a few months of marriage, regular jobs and real life, God took away that desire entirely and we knew it wasn't what He had for us...but what did He have instead? We didn't know. We longed to get of what we felt like was not much of a mission field, if I'm honest - Dothan. It's natural really. We wanted to do something BIG for God and smack dab in the middle of the Bible belt didn't seem like the most obvious place. I don't think it ever crossed my mind that God might call us to stay.

I said goodbye to the job I have loved for over 5 years now. I shot my last wedding I have on the books this past Saturday, for a while at least. For the sake of laying out there, I still get plenty of inquiries and everything looks amazing - but to every single one God has said no. There is no explanation. Only a closed door. It feels scary to type this out because I still have hopes that I'll do some here and there. I have LOVED loved LOVED every minute, and feel so overwhelmingly thankful for the privilege God has given me over these years. Never in a million years did I see myself becoming a wedding photographer. It has been such sweet years of growth, learning how to find my feet as a business owner and wife, then minister's wife, mama, etc...It was just when I felt totally confident in my system, workflow and had been doing it long enough to feel so comfortable with my clients. I enjoyed the knowledge and experience and utilizing it to anticipate their needs. It truly brought me joy to serve however I could on these special, monumental days. Every single wedding has a special place in my heart. Every one was a true joy and honor. I cannot thank God enough for giving me this work, using it to grow my faith, to draw me closer to Him and bring such incredible people into my life. So many sweet friendships have been made and and beautiful places visited. It filled my soul. His gifts are good.

You know what freedom feels like? Letting go of any desire to "make it" in the industry, to have our music "out there" in some way, the desire to be published here or there, caring about likes or followers, traveling to certain places, shooting for a certain style of client, to be known, "keeping up" with people/ social media, to have people perceive me a certain way, to do anything "big" for God, etc, etc, etc...God broke me of the chains I didn't even know I had this Summer. And I have felt so much freedom since. I don't have it all right, and I battle against caring too much about what others think and not enough about what GOD thinks. What is there to strive for if not good goals? Goals are good right? Absolutely! But the Lord is leading me to let go of all that in pursuit of small things. No more striving. No more looking for when the flowers will bloom - just digging in the dirt and being faithful to tend my little plot of earth every day and keep out the weeds.

There is this deep-rooted fear in my heart of not being good enough, not measuring up and being  tried and found wanting still. I think many of us have this same fear. For me it goes back to when I entered a new class in first grade. I was the new girl, venturing into a new class. I was a little shy, but I don't think I'd ever struggled too much with self-consciousness. But that day changed me. Fairly carefree, I asked a table full of girls if I could sit with them for snack. They replied, "This table is only for cool girls with sparkly chapstick." And my fate was sealed. Uncool. Not enough. 

Exactly one month ago I entered into a month of rest from work (except for email checks once a week) and all social media. I knew I needed to do it, but to be honest, I had more than a little trepidation about what my days would look like without the things that usually fill them. I did not expect to be catapulted into an old way of life that felt like how I was meant to be living. It took me by surprise that I didn't miss the companion of constant distraction. (Because let's be real, with a little one running around I have plenty of that already.) In my foolishness, I hoped to be "productive" and "get a lot done" during this time. I wanted a more clarity about the next 6 months and hoped to gain new insight. I didn't expect to come out on the other side with even more questions and craving even more time for true rest. However, I did come to understand more of what real rest looks like and that rest revealed the true state of my heart.