Something's Afoot...

Ever look at things that are happening around you and realize that Someone is trying to draw your attention to something that he really wants you to pay attention to? You keep seeing references to a topic in newspapers, in books friends lend you, in conversations, in chats with your children...everywhere!

Ever noticed that in Christian circles there is a huge amount of things that are 'taboo' to talk about? Things that are unspoken because of their secrecy or connection with shame - you know the ones! Ones that you would rather choke down than bring up if your pastor and his wife came for tea. That thing that if mentioned you would like the ground to swallow you. Things that are labelled too 'sacred' to be talked about (like sex) or too intimate to be discussed (like the intricacies of marriage) or too imperfect to mention (like alcoholism)?

Well, it's time to spill the beans... I'm in both those places. I sense God is at work. I can feel His Spirit nudging me and gently leading me.

Now before you read further understand something. I have .... evolved seems like a good word to use. I used to be a very "prescriptive" Christian - there was a black, a white. There was a right way and a wrong way. There was only one kind of Christian to be and that involved a early morning 'quiet time' church every day of the week. [And again a disclaimer for those of you who may have just started reading this blog. I am NOT knocking those things. For me, and my heart, God has led me somewhere different - it is never my intention for you to feel judged or condemned by what you read here, even if we disagree...] 


Now I'm more of a "descriptive" Christian. I realize that God wants me all day of every day. That I can talk to him morning, noon and night. That 'church' means any gathering of people who believe in him, anytime, anywhere. There is a path of incredible grace that challenges me every time I think there is only one way (and no I do not believe all faiths lead to heaven!) - he's made me see that the colors black and white are not mine to use when I look at things.

And so here I am.

Longing to speak the unspoken.

Longing to break the chains of silence.

Longing to be different.

The thing God is confronting me with? Being an awesome wife. Yip. Not your average, normal wife. An awesome one. One that Braveheart will be thankful for each day. One that he cannot live without. See, Braveheart and I are facing our toughest season yet. Our marriage, which seemed so impenetrable and strong, is showing signs of wear and tear. Not bad though after 10 years and 3 kids! And why this last weekend was so incredible. A touch of heaven. A reminder that this thing, this thing called marriage, is worth a fight. God is at work in our restoration project, little by little. And it begins with me.

Marriages require work. No one told me that on my wedding day! If they were a living, breathing entity I am confident that we would take better care of them. But they are silent. And undemanding. And because of that they often become uncared for. God is highlighting this to me. All the ways that I put Braveheart second - because we are an incredible parenting team, our focus has been primarily on the kids for the last 6 years. My focus needs to and should always have him in the top spot, no matter how cheesy or old fashioned that might seem. O God change me! Of course it's easy to do with the kids, but it can no longer be the excuse. I find it exhilarating that there is such hope, and if i'm truly spilling the beans? Downright scary. Because as the proverb goes, it's hard for an old dog to learn new tricks. But dear friends, we need to learn. And here's the grace part - Lord, do this work in me. Permanent change is effortless. All of him. None of me.

See. Being honest like this just makes you wonder doesn't it? :) You're sitting there wondering how I can bear my inner thoughts to you in cyberspace. There's something here that God wants this blog to be about. A blog to serve women. A blog for women to be honest and share their souls whilst deeply loving and respecting their husbands. perhaps not this one....but one to come....? And I'm not afraid to be the first (she said pausing nervously whilst typing that line!).

Here's the thing - my struggle is that these struggles that I/we have faced are not new to anyone of us. But somehow under the guise of protecting/respecting our husbands and shrouding their egos we fail to be honest with one another. We all appear perfect. Now look here, the very last thing I am suggesting is that we call together pity parties or belittle our husbands to one another. But there is something very real about community, about love, about older women teaching younger women  -  the whole Titus 2 thing - becoming ALIVE amongst us.

And the issues that are taboo to talk about? Not quite that brave yet! But I will say this - we are supposed to be tangibly different to the world. So different that when people spend time with us they walk away CHANGED. How come the world can talk about everything and anything, and yet we, the church, fail to have an alternative? What are our answers? I know God wants me to find my voice here too - and yes, I'm scared. But if I feel imprisoned by all the things that just aren't spoken about, and God is shining his light on this, then I choose to believe this isn't only about me.

It's about the countless people he loves.

Food for thought huh?

K & M

We celebrated this lovely couple this past weekend. M has been a member of our family for years, our closest bachelor friend, adopted brother and surrogate uncle to our three children. We have spent many years praying with him for a wife, and excitedly, he met K, fell in love with K and asked her to marry him! Needless to say she said yes, hence the wedding!

I love quoting this excerpt at weddings from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, it's such a powerful allegory.

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."
The Rabbit sighed. He thought it would be a long time before this magic called Real happened to him. He longed to become Real, to know what it felt like; and yet the idea of growing shabby and losing his eyes and whiskers was rather sad. He wished that he could become it without these uncomfortable things happening to him.