All The Little Blessings

He said it so clearly. Whispered it into my heart in that moment…

“Don’t get so hung up on waiting for the answers to the big things you are praying for, that you forget to stop and worship Me for all the little blessings I’m sending in the meantime.”

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1558380803031-BFOPQV6TZSFQ80QYR6KR/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kDCPJx5CXgnCxGyfZrDVw8J7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0pmy3nA_zcH46jcY3zQ1h8g_FNYzQB9C1g4oEzntxIUvwy5WtNg-YWltkTaCEnH3xg/IMG_4427.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

We were simply trying to get two new keys made for our van.

THE van.

The one from a short list of things my husband had been faithfully praying for every day for nearly two years.

God had answered.

He’d answered that big prayer and two weeks later, we were still overjoyed and in awe. Still thanking God for it every single day.

But deep down, a part of my heart was also starting to look ahead at the next big thing we’d been praying for.
Longing.
Anxious.
Wondering.

Almost as if that one answered prayer sparked more discontent in me, rather than ushering me into the eternal gratitude and trust I thought it would.

{To read the rest of this post go visit my friend Kerry’s blog. She graciously asked me to write this post to share with her readers, but I wanted to make sure I shared it here with you all as well.}

Be blessed

Becoming Alike: {Mother’s Day Thoughts}

It shows up in the eyes of my little ones, again and again.
This searching.
This watching.
This learning.
And this becoming.

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1557709317851-DL7HC1COHZ4B3AKWPHR7/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kIUnZ7F61d6kUErKMFUG9yx7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0oGwQPSn8VqSSM4mc7rOnoiSVtBZdsXS7gJn3q8MEfLVmmn_5Sp7NN1Sx1GsGIEG9A/Image+50.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>




  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1557709385161-U167G9JI1H2H31ITN284/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kK60W-ob1oA2Fm-j4E_9NQB7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0kD6Ec8Uq9YczfrzwR7e2Mh5VMMOxnTbph8FXiclivDQnof69TlCeE0rAhj6HUpXkw/Image+51.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

I see in his eyes. This desire to become alike to those he loves.

In the eyes of a three year old, it easy to see and to interpret that look. That desire.

But in the eyes of a twenty year old, a twenty-eight year old, a thirty-eight year old, a fifty-right year old, it’s harder to spot.
It’s still there though.

This desire to be alike to those we love or to those we admire doesn’t go away with age.

Because perhaps, if we look closely, we can find beautiful ways that those we love have already shaped us. And that they have shaped us so deeply, it’s hard to distinguish their influence from who are most deeply are.

That can be a painful truth.
But it can also be a beautiful truth.

It has struck me again and again this year, and particularly this Mother’s Day, how there are so many pieces of me put in place by others. Unintentionally maybe. Subtly. Beautifully.

And as I become aware of them, it’s up to me to keep them, or change them.

Today, I want to focus on all the wonderful, beautiful things about me that were taught by and learned from my mother. I’m still learning from her, becoming like her, seeing the fruit of my childhood admiration come out of the deepest parts of me.

And today, I’m thankful for so many beautiful pieces of me that are credited to her. To her teaching, her loving, her serving, her planning and organization, her openness and honesty, and most of all her willingness to admit weakness and failure and her need for Jesus.

I have so many memories of her leading and guiding us toward Jesus, or simply watching her pursue Him herself.

I pray that this can be my legacy as well. That those memories and habits I watched in her all these years become so deeply a part of me that they become who I am too.

“Mama”

So many pieces of me
I take for granted,
Mistake as innate.
Till I stop and watch
You live and love.
Then with sudden clarity
I see myself,
All the pieces of me
That aren’t accidental at all.
Instead they are hours
And days and years
Of you sacrificing,
Pouring yourself into me.
Yourself out for me.
And most of all
Pouring yourself out
Before Jesus.
Letting Him fill you
So that you could pour
Into me something better
Than just yourself.
I hope that I
Can pour myself
Out that way too.

Alesha Sinks

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1557709278407-W4VMAQG3Z1CLFL0W8XBP/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kBli73Htgs-NafDnOYQBlvN7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z5QHyNOqBUUEtDDsRWrJLTm8gdG5xRTtrVVyLXkddLwcg0lFwGgNRFzrle14-MGomKmTAiGKVyCZ3FL6eVFJJ3F/MamaPoem.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

“Thank You”

I should have said
thank you
For the lessons you taught
All the ways you pushed me
Out and out and out of comfort
Till I could step on my own.

I should have said
thank you
For the footprints to follow
The path cleared and waiting
The shaping of heart and mind
The formation of me.

I should have said
thank you
For the things I learned
To not be as well as to be
There are both together
And I am thankful.

I should have said
thank you
For the things you taught
They are part of me so deeply
I can’t separate them out.
And I don’t want to.
Thank you.

Alesha Sinks

Be blessed

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1557709265815-EVO6WMXW5Q9HSG5J0HF3/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kBli73Htgs-NafDnOYQBlvN7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z5QHyNOqBUUEtDDsRWrJLTm8gdG5xRTtrVVyLXkddLwcg0lFwGgNRFzrle14-MGomKmTAiGKVyCZ3FL6eVFJJ3F/ThankYouPoem.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

More Than One Right Answer

I'm learning to see

That there just might be

More than one right answer

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1556473877123-3L88E8PRYFMFREA8CQK8/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kDHPSfPanjkWqhH6pl6g5ph7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0mwONMR1ELp49Lyc52iWr5dNb1QJw9casjKdtTg1_-y4jz4ptJBmI9gQmbjSQnNGng/IMG_4559.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

I was less than five minutes into that podcast episode when I found tears springing to my eyes, heart beating faster in agreement.

It was me.

It was all me.

Everything she said about feeling this weight, this pressure to find and make the right decision, it was like she had looked inside me and was reading back what she found.

I've lived, and I still live, so much of my life under the fear of messing up. Under the fear of missing out. Under the fear of making that one wrong decision that unhinges everything.

And through the painful, beautiful, soulful work of others, that they are graciously sharing with the world, I am beginning to see that maybe God doesn't work the way I think.

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1556474337810-Q1P09IADMC4SE1VD1XSL/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kNZr331BLc-Rota1ZP1Yh3h7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0hReLB75oIvKxcDxwlnLXaYNPa96OWO5Z21xzWqpQF_bv3E39NLc0xdQYNJZ7z0n0g/IMG_4565.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>




  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1556474363041-RE1LFQYUID2DI68EP5PU/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kHH9S2ID7_bpupQnTdrPcoF7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0nQwvinDXPV4EYh2MRzm-RRB5rUELEv7EY2n0AZOrEupxpSyqbqKSgmzcCPWV5WMiQ/IMG_4563.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>




  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1556474370303-0RISX9JWMIJJO1UX58VK/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kNZr331BLc-Rota1ZP1Yh3h7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0hReLB75oIvKxcDxwlnLXaYNPa96OWO5Z21xzWqpQF_bv3E39NLc0xdQYNJZ7z0n0g/IMG_4564.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

Just maybe, He gives us far more freedom in our decisions than I think.

And

Most definitely

A bad decision is not near enough to unhinge God's eternal plan.

Yes

I can rebel my way out of God's favor.

Yes

I can make stubbornly, unwise choices that will lead me far away from who God designed me to be.

Yes

I can miss out on certain life experiences by choosing one thing over another.

But if I humble myself and seek God, I will not miss out on Him. No matter how many "wrong" decisions I make.

Because God is The Great Author.

An Author Who can write His plots to beauty and purpose and good despite the foolish blunderings His characters create when trying to write their own stories.

Because God delights to give us free will and the ability to choose based not on formal command from Him, but on the good desires He has already placed inside us.

Because God lavishes His goodness upon us, primarily, in the form of intimacy with Himself. And that gift can be given no matter where we physically are in life.

If we will just turn to Him.

If we will just humble ourselves to seek Him.

If we will just delight in His presence.

If we will just enjoy His goodness to us. His presence with us.

Oh to live in that space of freedom and joy and delight in Jesus. That space where my decisions can flow freely and confidently. Not necessarily because He speaks to me directly about every one, but because I am confident in His love and care for me, and resting in the trust that what He has already placed inside of me will guide my decisions as I draw near to His heart.

May we each learn to live in that space of freedom and trust.

Trust that He will give us everything we need to make good decisions as we draw close to Him in love.

Trust that He is powerful enough to accomplish His will in me and in the world regardless of my decisions along the way, as long as I am making those decisions in a posture of drawing near to Him.

I'm learning to see

That there just might be

More than one right answer

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1556474800457-C20XK06DCETYQQ7ZRHPC/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kNiEM88mrzHRsd1mQ3bxVct7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z4YTzHvnKhyp6Da-NYroOW3ZGjoBKy3azqku80C789l0s0XaMNjCqAzRibjnE_wBlkZ2axuMlPfqFLWy-3Tjp4nKScCHg1XF4aLsQJlo6oYbA/IMG_4568.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

Be blessed

This Is Holy Saturday

This Is Holy Saturday

Today is Holy Saturday.

Like a butterfly in its cocoon, waiting to emerge, Jesus spent Saturday in the grave.
Stone sealed.
Disciples mourning.
The rest of Jerusalem moving on with life, like nothing had happened.

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1555795634846-Z355WV3Y2UKGWFWL2R9A/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kFj5W396ntPbLSkYjwN2Jdl7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z5QPOohDIaIeljMHgDF5CVlOqpeNLcJ80NK65_fV7S1UUNe3m3u1dYWoTZOsV10loclyfiZD31sczTnjU4lrD-9E8Dhi5lIXKj5XtUVuYW2VQ/12BAE9AC-8A96-49CA-9802-D0713C796071.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

Like a butterfly, Jesus didn’t stay cocooned by death forever. He emerged victorious.
But that is what we celebrate tomorrow.

Today, is the day in the middle.

The day His followers thought it was all over.
The day of mourning and loss and waiting.

I’ve never thought much about this day, Holy Saturday, until this year. But this year, it resonates with me so deeply. This mourning and waiting. This longing for what we don’t have anymore…or don’t have yet.

But unlike the forgetful disciples, we know the hope of Sunday. And because of that day, because of Easter Sunday, we know the hope of heaven that we have waiting for us.

In many ways, we are in a prolonged Saturday, an extension of this Holy day.

But we mourn not as the disciples did that day. Not as Mary mourned. Not as His followers mourned. Not as those *”who have no hope”.

Rather, we mourn the pains and heartaches of this life, knowing that our tears will be wiped away. Knowing that, as Jesus said, we have the Holy Spirit with us always, which is even better than Jesus on earth with us.

We may live in Saturday, but because of the joy we celebrate tomorrow, on Sunday, we know the hope that is coming.

Today’s poem is about this day.
Holy Saturday
What it must have been like to wake up the day after the crucifixion.

Eyelids flutter open
Everything is hurting
Head throbbing
Throat burning
Eyes searing with the pain of yesterday’s tears
Mingled in that moment
With the first tears of today
The day after
The day after a nightmare
The day after it starts again
The bargaining, calculating
The begging for it all to be a dream
A nightmare
An awful nightmare
But no.
The events of yesterday
Begin to roll through
Flashback followed by horrible flashback
So many questions
Why?
How?
Why?
This hurts so much
These years…
Are they just wasted?
Was I a fool?
But the miracles.
Couldn’t He have done
Just one more?
To save Himself?
Wouldn’t that have been better
For everyone?
Tears tracing their course down cheek and chin
How to face the day
The day after
With so many questions
Unanswered
With so much pain
Unsoothed

Be blessed and Happy Easter

This Is Holy Saturday

This Is Holy Saturday

Today is Holy Saturday.

Like a butterfly in its cocoon, waiting to emerge, Jesus spent Saturday in the grave.
Stone sealed.
Disciples mourning.
The rest of Jerusalem moving on with life, like nothing had happened.

  <img src="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/55c38a57e4b00989028332c9/1555795634846-Z355WV3Y2UKGWFWL2R9A/ke17ZwdGBToddI8pDm48kFj5W396ntPbLSkYjwN2Jdl7gQa3H78H3Y0txjaiv_0fDoOvxcdMmMKkDsyUqMSsMWxHk725yiiHCCLfrh8O1z5QPOohDIaIeljMHgDF5CVlOqpeNLcJ80NK65_fV7S1UUNe3m3u1dYWoTZOsV10loclyfiZD31sczTnjU4lrD-9E8Dhi5lIXKj5XtUVuYW2VQ/12BAE9AC-8A96-49CA-9802-D0713C796071.JPG?format=original" alt=""/>

Like a butterfly, Jesus didn’t stay cocooned by death forever. He emerged victorious.
But that is what we celebrate tomorrow.

Today, is the day in the middle.

The day His followers thought it was all over.
The day of mourning and loss and waiting.

I’ve never thought much about this day, Holy Saturday, until this year. But this year, it resonates with me so deeply. This mourning and waiting. This longing for what we don’t have anymore…or don’t have yet.

But unlike the forgetful disciples, we know the hope of Sunday. And because of that day, because of Easter Sunday, we know the hope of heaven that we have waiting for us.

In many ways, we are in a prolonged Saturday, an extension of this Holy day.

But we mourn not as the disciples did that day. Not as Mary mourned. Not as His followers mourned. Not as those *”who have no hope”.

Rather, we mourn the pains and heartaches of this life, knowing that our tears will be wiped away. Knowing that, as Jesus said, we have the Holy Spirit with us always, which is even better than Jesus on earth with us.

We may live in Saturday, but because of the joy we celebrate tomorrow, on Sunday, we know the hope that is coming.

Today’s poem is about this day.
Holy Saturday
What it must have been like to wake up the day after the crucifixion.

Eyelids flutter open
Everything is hurting
Head throbbing
Throat burning
Eyes searing with the pain of yesterday’s tears
Mingled in that moment
With the first tears of today
The day after
The day after a nightmare
The day after it starts again
The bargaining, calculating
The begging for it all to be a dream
A nightmare
An awful nightmare
But no.
The events of yesterday
Begin to roll through
Flashback followed by horrible flashback
So many questions
Why?
How?
Why?
This hurts so much
These years…
Are they just wasted?
Was I a fool?
But the miracles.
Couldn’t He have done
Just one more?
To save Himself?
Wouldn’t that have been better
For everyone?
Tears tracing their course down cheek and chin
How to face the day
The day after
With so many questions
Unanswered
With so much pain
Unsoothed

Be blessed and Happy Easter

Subscribe To The Blog

Subscribe To The Blog And Get My “Perspective Reset Devotional" For FREE

Congratulations! You Are Subscribed To The Blog And Your Devotional Is Being Sent Right Now.

Pin It on Pinterest