Author: Jackie

Auntie, school teacher, serving God wherever He calls me.🤍 "Will you let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you? Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too."

How Beautiful

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This post is slightly overdue, but my heart and mind needed a few days to let the emotions settle before I could process them in words.

A bridesmaid bouquet adorns my kitchen table, not quite as fresh as yesterday, but still beautiful. I pulled it out of the vase tonight, just to smell the roses, to play with the ribbons, and smile again at the memories of when it was fresh and new on Saturday morning…

Just before the sun came up, I drove to a familiar home once again. I had the honor of driving my bestie to the photo location for her wedding, witnessing their first look, then standing with the wedding party for photos.

The drive there was filled with heartfelt conversations, giving her the wedding gift I had carefully chosen, and a playlist of her favourite songs I had created with her suggestions.

Close friendships are beautiful.

We’ve shared momentous occasions that we had in common, and some we have not, but we’re always there for each other.

There were seasons it came easily to relate to each other, but in the last year, our paths have been vastly different as our lives took changing directions.

Yet we’re closer than ever, and it was so good to celebrate her marriage with her.

She had a gift for me, too, that morning.

There was one song in her playlist I hadn’t heard before, and when it came on, she told me to listen, because it’s what she wants her bridesmaids to know.

So her sister and I, the bridesmaids, listened while she sang along.

“Like a treasure in the deep, your heart is a diamond

And your Hero will do what it takes to find it so He can hold it tenderly.

And become your Defender

He even laid down His life just to make your heart His.”

Could there be anything more beautiful in friendship, than a bride reminding her bridesmaids of their worth and identity on her wedding day?

Every little girl dreams of her wedding, but not every girl gets married. So when girls grow up, it’s so important that they know Who they truly belong to.

Regardless of where we are today or what our future brings, we all are fully known, fully loved, fully chosen – and precious to our Creator.

Weddings often focus on romance, but witnessing Christian marriage is so much more than that.

When two godly people form a Kingdom union, every witness is reminded of the relationship between Christ and the Church.

The way his love creates a secure place for her heart to call home..

The way her devotion and adoration let him know she is committed to him forever…

The way he accepts her, just as she is, and always protects her…

The way she puts effort into presenting herself perfect, because she wants him to have the very best she can be… (and truly, my besties husband married a gem. Just saying.😉)

All these things should point every one of us to a greater Love story.

The story of a Creator pursuing the hearts of His unfaithful, flawed, rebellious creation, literally going to His own death just to win us back.

A Creator Who so desperately didn’t want to spend eternity without us that He entered our world so that we could share His.

Can I complete my end of the story? Am I doing my best to be perfect, so that I don’t cause any blemishes to be seen in His Bride, the church?

Does my level of adoration for my King and devotion to Him convince others that I’m committed forever?

Someday, my name will be called to another wedding feast, and every one of us who has accepted His redeeming love offer will have a seat at the bridal table.

His protection of my heart as I surrender it to Him is a security greater than anyone in earth can offer me – and when I see His face, I will know without a doubt I am finally home.

On that day we’ll all rise as one, and everyone will focus together on the beauty of our King.

The celebration then will be so much grander than anything here…

The security of coming home to Eternal Love will be beyond anything any bride has ever known…

The adoration we feel for Jesus will be greater than ever when our earthly eyes are finally opened to see the magnitude of His love…

And it will be beautiful.

So very beautiful.

How beautiful that every one of us has this in common.

And until then, we are all just walking each other home.

Cozy & Content

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My fuzzy blanket wrapped around me, I’m relaxing after another busy day.

The sun has set (a few hours ago) in a fiery blaze that framed the hills in the distance.

Today was good.

I stepped into the little white church this morning, and it felt good. Almost… normal. I still miss my home church people, but I’m getting to know this congregation. They are a gift from God, all of them have given me such a warm welcome since I moved here.

I sat beside a little boy who decided to be friends, and put a fishie sticker in my Bible. He’s about the same age as my nephew that I miss so much… and my auntie heart was delighted to have that bit of interaction with a child again.

I came home from church and warmed up leftovers for lunch. (The bacon in the casserole was a gift from friends who visited me recently. I think the world would be full of happier people if we would all gift each other with bacon occasionally.)

I took a nap in my comfy bed, then went upstairs to spend the rest of the day with my people.

I blow dry hair, go for walks, serve meals, give hugs, sing Christmas carols, trim fingernails, search for missing hearing aids, change bedding, give hugs, draw pictures to color, retrieve abandoned walkers, listen to sad hearts, put clean laundry away, give hugs, brush teeth, lay out fuzzy pajamas, tuck the sheets just so…

I give one more hug, and say “Goodnight, I love you, see you tomorrow!”

The Christmas carols today. That was so fun. We were having a great time, some of us singing the lyrics on the page, others singing the best part of the song over again just for good measure.

Sunlight streamed in on our impromptu choir, and grey heads and wrinkled faces were shining golden as we all praised Jesus together.

Heaven comes a little closer in moments like those.

Or when someone says, “One of these days I’m not gonna need this wheelchair anymore! I’ll be walking in heaven!” I reply, “Not only will you walk – you’ll be flying!”

She asks who I think will run faster, me or her. I said, maybe I can race you!

She laughs and says, “Let’s do that someday. But first I gotta go see Jesus. After that, we can race!”

Another gentleman, who is a wealth of sage advice, has told me that I’m stuck here forever. “You can try to leave,” he warns, “but I’ll always pray you come back again! And God hears me!”

These dear people.

I like being here, too.

This life really is beautiful.

They Call Me Mom

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My people are all sleeping.

Blankets were tucked around wrinkly chins, gray hair was brushed into ponytails for the night, and shaky arms reached up to hug me before I turned out the light.

I held hands larger than my own and prayed bedtime prayers for a good night of pain free, restful sleep.

They’re not my children.

Most of them are old enough to be my grandparents, or at least my parents.

But they call me, “Mom.”

Sometimes they say it teasingly, but there’s an underlying note of seriousness. And other times, depending what they’ve just asked me to do for them, there’s a depth of emotion in their voice when they say, “thank you – Mom.”

A lot of the residents in the care home where I volunteer are children at heart.

They remained dependent on their parents into adulthood, and still need to be mothered. But their moms have either passed away, or are too elderly to care for them anymore, and so they are here to receive the care they need.

I wish I could have met the moms represented by the people I serve.

These women who must have been wonderfully dedicated mothers, for how affectionately they’re spoken of by their now-elderly children.

These women who knew just how to tuck the sheets, and which kind of bedtime snack, and how to soothe a hurting heart.

I’m trying to learn these things about each resident, because they deserve to feel at home. I come here to work; they live here. This is home to them, and we need to provide care with all the homey touches their moms had.

It’s daunting.

But I love them. And even though it’s challenging, and not always easy, I’m determined to love them well.

Whenever I’m faced with a task that’s not so appealing, I remind myself that this person was created by Jesus. I visualize Him kneeling beside this bed, or pushing this wheelchair, or cleaning up this floor.

And I ask, “How would Jesus love this person?”

I can never replace their mothers that they still miss so much.

I certainly can’t know and meet their needs in perfection like Jesus would.

But maybe, with the daily challenge to do each act of service the way Jesus would, I can provide care that lets them know without a doubt: they are precious, and they are loved.

I know one thing for sure: they fill my heart.

And, out of all the names I get called in a day (trust me, there’s a wide variety) I always smile when they call me “Mom.”

Muddled Musings after a Recent Move

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The sun has set over the valley, and all is dark outside my window.

My dorm sister is sleeping on the couch before she goes to work the night shift.

A stack of clean dishes is drying beside the sink, where I’m content to leave them until tomorrow morning.

There is leftover shepherds pie in the fridge. It was amazing (though I do say so myself.)

My laundry is all clean and dry and in a basket, ready to be folded.

(I could have done it after lunch, but I had a delicious nap instead. Then I went out with my new house mate, and there went the rest of our day. It was so good though!)

I just enjoyed a hot shower and now I’m thinking about heading to bed – I get to stay in bed all night – so that I’m awake to go upstairs for more training in the morning.

Tomorrow evening, some people from church are coming here for a cottage meeting. I think I’ll go upstairs and join them – in church clothes, no scrubs, since I won’t be on my shift.

The residents here are mostly in bed by this time. No doubt they’ll be walking by my window again tomorrow, so they can tell each other they “saw Jackie in her house!”

If hugs and laughter make one live longer, my lifespan is definitely increasing every day. This will be a very healthy place to live!

How is this my world I’m describing?

11 short days that feel like forever ago, I moved hours away from home.

I packed my life into my car, drove all day, then moved into a VS dorm at a home for adults with cognitive disabilities.

New volunteer job. New home. New church. New youth group. Literally, my whole life has changed.

The people here are amazing, the view from my windows is breathtaking, and I know I’ll thrive in this season.

But… just for this time of transitioning, when all is new, I feel like I’m grasping at a kaleidoscope of swirling bits of familiarity.

Things are starting to settle down – I figured out how to use the washing machine, I found the finger nail clipper where my bestie put it when she helped me unpack, and I’ve found a massage therapist close to here.

I’m not quite sure what my identity is here, because I haven’t stepped into the caregiver role yet. I’m looking forward to completing my training so I can lean into my role of service more fully.

Last night, one of my besties came and sat on my couch, and we solved the world’s problems over chai lattes.

(If I can do that here, it must be home. It’s also really great to finally live in the same area so we can hang out whenever we want to!)

I asked her what I’m doing here? What’s the purpose in a temporary term of service? What impact will I leave, and what will I take home?

This VS business is a stretch for me, since for the past few years I was minded to make a career of teaching. To build for the future and stay committed to the place I was in.

God allowed those plans to be interrupted when He called me here – and I believe there’s a reason.

I’m excited to see what He does in my life through this time. I know I’m going to be stretched and grow. I hope, with Christ working in and through me, that my time here will be a blessing to others.

I don’t know how He will choose to use this season, but I know He has a plan and purpose for my being here.

I know He causes all things to work together for good, and even though it feels so crazy and random that I ended up here, it is part of a divine plan, specifically planned for a good purpose.

Tonight, I don’t need to figure out what that might be. I’m content to just enjoy each day for what it holds, and let God use the moments according to His will.

Tonight, I’m in my cozy house on top of the hill, with my comfy new bed awaiting me, and friends – old and new – coming to see me tomorrow evening.

Tonight, it doesn’t matter who I am or why I’m here. I belong to God and I followed Him here. That’s all that matters.

I like my new little world He’s placed me in.

It may be new and strange and different than home at times, but it is beautiful. It is good. It is my own dreams and the hopes of the people here come true… I am walking in the answered prayers of so many who’ve waited so long for this day to come.

“All shall be well, and all shall be well.”

Good night!

The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning… it’s time to sing your song again.

Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes.

Bless the Lord, oh my soul.♡

Emotions, Questions, and Questionable Emotions

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There is a common struggle among women, and that is dealing with these things called emotions.

The very word brings understanding nods and knowing looks and amused grins.

It brings an animated discussion into our rather quiet youth girls Sunday school class.

We know what emotions are!

But there’s a prevalent misconception among us that to be emotionally mature, we need to master our emotions, and that means we deny feeling them at all.

It is true that we should master our feelings, rather than letting them control us.

The denial of their existence, however, is to live a lie.

God knows us intimately well, far better than we could ever express ourselves, and we try to pretend we’re not feeling the emotions He created us with!

I hear it so often from friends in all walks of life “I need to just accept this and not question God.”

So God doesn’t expect that you’ll feel anything in response to the hard situation you’re in?

He’s okay with it that when you don’t understand Him and His ways, you don’t even bother asking Him about it?

The Creator of galaxies, Who pursued your heart to the cross, doesn’t mind that you aren’t even acting interested in getting to know Him in deeper ways?

I don’t support angry ranting at God, but I don’t think that all hard questions need to be repressed, either.

There’s a slight shift in wording that makes these two phrases mean vastly different things: “questioning God” or “asking God questions.”

To question something is to doubt it, to lack confidence in it’s legitimacy, to challenge its credibility.

To ask questions is to seek information, to learn more about the subject, and it is an expectant act believing that there will be an answer.

We do not question that God is good.

But when we don’t understand how His ways are good, we ask Him questions.

Faith filled questions that express a belief that He is Who He says He is, but we are seeking to know more about Him.

For a simple illustration of this, follow me down a quick bunny trail: I was asking math questions the other night. Dad was showing me a shortcut for manually extracting a square root, and of course he did it so quickly I didn’t have time to grasp the concept.

I saw that it worked, and I was impressed, but I wanted to understand how it worked. I didn’t question the math – I knew it was legitimate – but I sure had questions to ask about the concept that made it work!

That’s how it is with God and our emotions sometimes. We don’t question that He’s good, but we wonder how He’s good. We struggle to see the deeper work going on.

And those feelings that come with that – He created those emotions. Grief. Hope. Anger. Compassion. They exist because He gave us the ability to feel them.

Feelings produce action, and since some feelings produce good actions while others don’t, we classify our emotions into categories of “acceptable” and “unacceptable.”

What if it’s not about what we feel, but how we deal with it, that matters?

What if we can take the feelings we don’t like to God, and ask Him what to do with them? He can then replace them with His peace, since we’ve invited Him to do so instead of just pretending the yuck didn’t exist.

If we react to our circumstances with emotions that make us wonder who God is or how this can be love, we don’t need to push those questions aside.

God is inviting us to learn more about Him!

And the emotions we judge as negative… are the very ones that inspire the hard questions. Questions which will lead to a deeper connection with the heart of the Suffering Saviour.

The only way to know a subject well is to ask questions. Dig deep. Relentlessly pursue all the information you can get.

Why would we not pursue knowing our Redeemer and Father in the same way?

We don’t question that God is God.

But because we believe by faith that He IS our Good Father, and therefore we want to know as much as we can about Him, we ask questions to learn.

And as we wait expectantly on Him, He will reveal His heart to us in answer to our questions.

So, ladies, let’s be brave. Let’s be vulnerable before the God Who already knows every corner of our hearts.

And maybe, our questionable emotions will be redeemed if they are the motivation to getting to know God in a deeper way.

…and that is a summary of my thoughts on emotions and questions, following various recent conversations with friends regarding said topics.

Behold, ‘Tis Eventide

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The stars twinkle against a black sky.

The lights are all off in the neighbour’s houses.

The campfire is burned down and my youth group has gone home.

Tis clearly Eventide… and well past.

My nephews are oblivious to what Mom and I are very aware of.

The 3 year old just escaped his bed and ran to the other end of the house giggling.

Little brother is trying to climb out of his crib to follow when I enter the room.

It’s only 1:00 in the morning, and the excitement of going to sleep at grandma’s house has apparently not worn off enough to actually do the sleeping part of this.

Also, they feel quite grown up after sitting solemnly beside me at my youth campfire and forming silent observations of the group – which they freely shared as soon as I took them inside.

I went back outside, assuming the two sleepy heads that were dozing off by the fire would be tucked in and sound asleep within minutes.

Much later, I came in and was greeted by two very energetic, very much awake little people.

They needed goodnight hugs from auntie Jackie. The ones I had given earlier weren’t recent enough to go back to bed on, they needed another one.

So, we did hugs. We did a story. We took them back to bed. And we tucked them in.

Auntie Jackie needed to stay, apparently. Just Grandma staying with them while they went to sleep wasn’t going to do.

So, I lay on the floor of our guest room, beside the crib, softly singing “Abide With Me.”

I was well aware of the fascinated gaze of a very upright 2 year old in the crib, but all was quiet in the bed on my other side, so I forced my weary self to sing a few more lines to ensure success.

At least if one would go to sleep…

It was almost me that drifted off. That, however, wasn’t the victory we were looking for. (I will go to sleep quite nicely when I’m told to lie down.)

I sensed someone looking at me, and became aware of a face very close to mine. Apparently the occupant of the quiet bed had crawled to the foot end and was peering delightedly at me over the edge.

He giggles. His brother sees him from the crib and grins back.

They know they have me stuck here while they play their games…

We resituate everybody.

Mom lies down beside big brother while I stroke little brother’s face, the way grandma used to mine when we cousins had sleepovers at her house and I couldn’t sleep.

More “Abide With Me.”

Less giggles. A longer stretch of calm.

I begin to hope, in the silence, that we’re winning.

The silence is broken by a distinct declaration:

“My pillow is… YUCKY!”

This, followed by an uncertain giggle, as though he’s not sure if Grandma and Auntie will appreciate his 1:15 am attempts at humor to evade sleep.

They don’t. They envy his pillow. It looks very inviting.

His pillow is definitely not yucky, but when you’re 3 and you’re learning to use adjectives, you practice them in various contexts. Hence, a yucky pillow.

Since singing has failed, and the protests are beginning again, I try reasoning.

I explain that my poodle is sleeping, and their kitten is sleeping, and they will be sad if the boys are too sleepy to play with them tomorrow.

They reply that they don’t want to sleep. (I’m sure they think we just don’t get it.)

Grandma explains it won’t be for long, because morning will soon be here.

(yes, sooner all the time)

A giggling voice replies, “but my pillow is yucky! Yucky pillow, yuck!”

The continuously fascinated grin coming from the crib, and the jubilant voice telling us all about his pillow, is too much.

Auntie leaves the room to have a few giggles herself.

And as all has quieted down in the meantime, she diverted from sleep duty to writing this post rather than interrupt the potential progress being made.

All is quiet now, and I think Mom may have succeeded in getting two of the world’s cutest little boys to close their sparkling eyes and go to sleep.

Now, I think we will do the same.

“Behold, tis Eventide!”

Forever, Amen.

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If I could type in whispers right now, I would.

Beginning this post after typing the title feels like an intrusion.

As though I’m breaking the silence after a heartfelt prayer.

But I couldn’t use anything else for my title, because my thoughts are centered around the concept in that simple statement.

How often do I say “amen,” only to pick up the topic of my prayer again later?

How many times do I skip the “amen,” because I’m having a continuous conversation with Jesus as I work?

What does “amen” even mean?

The literal translation is, “let it be,” or “so it is.”

It’s an expression of strong agreement, or a statement that says, “that’s the way it is.”

I think of “amen” as a peaceful, final punctuation mark, so that nothing can be argued after “amen” has been said – the topic is simply laid to rest.

That’s the way it is… so let it be.

Yet I say “amen” to prayers every day that I pray again the next day.

We all do that.

It’s because we live imperfect lives, in an imperfect world.

I may pray through my fears to a place of peace, and say, “amen.”

I can give all possible outcomes to God and reach total surrender, and say “amen.”

I can praise Him for the many ways He is good to me, both seen and unseen, and say with conviction, “amen.”

But that stamp of completeness, of perfection, that statement of “this is truth” isn’t permanent in a faulty world.

Those problems aren’t gone overnight – and God invites us to keep praying continually.

Our messy hearts will have more emotions to work through – and the Father wants to help us sort them.

His goodness won’t run out, and we will see Him move for our benefit and protection in many more ways. There will always be new things to thank Him for.

It’s not wrong that we pray many prayers. And say frequent amens.

But what would it be like to live in a world where no more amens were needed?

Where completeness would be eternal… where perfection would be unshaken, unchangeable, and amen would last forever?

That’s going to be our reality… in heaven.

This evening, my youth group sang in a long term care home for a beautiful group of people who’ve lived long lives.

One lady broke down in tears as we sang, and I wondered, what unmet longing in her heart caused her to cry?

Was she simply longing to go home after many years of living in this world?

How many other hearts in the room held silent aches for different things, and cry hidden tears for them?

How many in the room regularly take those heartcries to our Father… and often say “amen” to prayers that really aren’t completed yet?

“Eternal God, Faithful and True, all of our longings come Home to You.”

As we sang those lyrics, my mind was wandering deeper pathways than the simple beauty of the music.

Those lyrics were profound in the moment. I don’t know what caused the tears we witnessed – but I do know the One Who can fill every longing.

Every pain that every causes us to cry can be soothed by the perfect love of Jesus.

Every pain we carry here will fade and disappear when we at last “come home to Him.”

After singing a few more songs, we went to another location to practice for our youth program.

One song ends with each part coming in at a different time to sing “amen,” which is where I got the inspiration for this post.

We had to practice singing “amen” so often!

Why? Because none of them were truly perfect.

Just as our prayers here are continuous, and we always end up needing another “amen,” because our lives aren’t complete and perfect.

We eventually stopped singing amen. (I won’t pretend to imply it was heavenly, however it was sufficiently improved to allow us to move on to the next song.)

We will eventually stop having heartaches and tears and needs that we wrestle with until we reach an “amen.”

There’s a day coming where we’ll step out of time and brokenness into eternal perfection.

Into the Light of Jesus…

Into His welcoming embrace…

And every longing will be fulfilled in Him.

Every tear will be wiped away by Him.

Every aching heart will be soothed by Him.

Together, we will enter the completion of His will…

That we are united with Him in glory.

When we feel the perfection of Heaven fill our beings with eternal life,

All the angels will hush in anticipation…

Every heart will be flooded with joy…

And together, we will turn to face our King, then with one voice say, “Amen.”

“This – right here in Your Presence – together in heaven – all things made new – THIS is true. THIS is how it is meant to be. THIS is the way it is. Nothing can change that. So let it be… forever, AMEN.”

Alive in His Goodness

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It’s Sunday afternoon again, and I’m here enjoying solitude in another park.

I’m smiling as the breeze blows around me, the joy in my heart evidence that I’m alive.

Not only physically, but deep in my heart and soul there is this sense of awareness, of gratefulness, of the fullness of life.

There are notes of God’s goodness in the ordinary all around me…

In recent moments I see signs of His abundance, and of beauty that makes life worth living.

Visiting a mission and being inspired by the study of God’s word with people who are becoming excited about it for the first time.

Sharing at teacher’s institutes and remembering how I prayed until I was 17 that God would make me shy… then I finally realized He designed me talkative for a purpose. I started praying instead that I would speak words that are useful, and today I see Him answering my prayer every time He gives me words to share with others.

Doors opening with opportunities where I can serve my King, in ways I didn’t imagine when I said, “If this is where You want me, Jesus, I will give You all I can from this place.” He delights in our willingness, and calls us to be alive for Him.

Living in answered prayers. Evidence of His goodness.

He is good in prayers that go unanswered, too.

Flying down a trail through the woods with a friend who I call the little sister, singing every songs in our hearts and on our current playlists, praising Jesus in our storms… The gift of people to share our journeys is evidence of God’s faithfulness.

Hearing the mechanic tell me that my car and I experienced a miracle as we drove for hours through the hills with serious problems under the hood… proof of God’s protection over me. Keeping me safe, reminding me there are valid reasons for my faith to stay alive. The One in Who I believe is truly Worthy of every bit of my faith, trust, and praise.

Running through the surf on the Atlantic shoreline, between my besties, singing “Stepping on the Clouds” and radiating the joy of Jesus to those around us… His living in our hearts makes us fully alive.

There’s a little pain in my ankle as a souvenir from my adventure last week. It split open again and bled in the Atlantic Ocean, but I swam anyway, because life is too beautiful to stop living because of a little wound.

Breakfast in my favourite coffee shop away from home, with two dear souls who sometimes ache for heaven as much as I do. Over ordinary omelettes and lattes, we shared our excitement about everything we’ll see when we get there… then each went to face our day with purpose, living while we are here, so the moments He gives us are never wasted.

I’m still limping a little from the adventure I had last week, but I don’t regret taking the risk and experiencing something new. I’ll keep the scar as a reminder of how good my Father is in all things, and keep on walking.

It reminds me that sometimes, we need to keep on living with a little lingering pain in our hearts, too.

Playing volleyball with teachers, then washing cars with my youth group, didn’t help the ache where my foot is still bruised… but the joy of living those moments was worth it.

Embracing every opportunity in life instead of staying on the sidelines will cause our hearts a few bruises and cuts, too.

But full faith in God means we don’t miss out on anything He has for us…

And it’s worth going on living alive, even if there’s a little ache in our hearts…

Life is so much more vibrant when we dive in, and live fully, and don’t try to protect ourselves behind walls or in self-created prisons.

God will be good and faithful in everything I face.

I will hold His hand, trust Him every step of the journey, and live in the Light of His goodness.

Plunging into His Goodness

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“Mightier than the waves of the sea is His love for you.”

It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m here for some solo time in “my” gazebo in my favourite little park in the world.

The last few days have been a whirlwind of travelling all over the state, catching up with various friends, and now I finally have time to sit and write.

Yesterday, two friends took me three hours south, to the beach. The surf was wild – wilder than we’d ever seen before.

The waves were a relentless fury of crashing water.

The wind was strong.

But the chaotic waves were irresistible by later in the morning, and we decided to test them.

They were too high to jump over.

You couldn’t float up and over, either, because they always broke over your head.

The force of the first ones we ran to meet nearly knocked us over.

Really, the only way to play in the surf was to either stand there getting hit in the chest with water, or dive straight through the waves.

It felt wrong, honestly.

It seemed like I should run for shore, and try to keep my balance as the force of each wave hit me.

To hold my breath and dive straight into a wall of crashing water seemed crazy.

But my heart was intrigued by the way others were confidently diving in, trusting the waves, and popping up on the other side.

I gave it a try…

The force of the first one knocked my hand off my nose and I came up with the taste of salt water in my mouth.

I did master it though; prepared for the force and holding on tight the next few dives went much better.

Later, my friend suggested, “Try just laying down under them.”

I watched her as the next wave came. She leaned forward, then lay down parallel to the wave as it broke over her back.

That was even easier than diving in. The waves never hit me, I never felt the power of the surging water, unless I reached above me to feel what was going on.

Laying down and being pushed by the current was the most gentle yet powerful ride.

And there, under the waves, my heart was learning profound things about trusting God’s goodness.

Unless we stayed in knee deep water, missing out on the experience of being in the ocean, the effort to stay standing in the water of the pounding surf was too much.

We had to keep bracing ourselves and keeping our knees locked.

But diving through the waves, laying down under them, totally yielding myself to their force… was much easier.

Under the waves, the water carried me. It rolled me in gently with the wave instead of catching me in the crashing water on the surface.

And what if God’s love is like that ocean? We often compare it to an ocean, because of how vast and endless His love is.

But what about the times His love doesn’t make sense?

Times when waves of emotion crash wildly on our heart, threatening to knock us down with each blow.

Exhausted, we fight to stay on our own two feet.

Desperate not to be knocked down and swept into the fury.

Confused and doubting how events can be part of God’s goodness, we resist stepping into the water.

What if, instead of trusting my own strength to hold me up, instead of holding back in the shallows, I could wade confidently out into the ocean and meet each wave?

What if I yield myself to the crashing water and lay down in this great expanse of love?

What if I immerse myself in it instead of fighting it, and trust God to carry me on the currents?

What if yielding to His goodness, even when it doesn’t make sense, would spare me the chaos on the surface? What if I could rest in the power of His love to roll me gently to shore?

It took a lot of holding my breath to swim this way.

It feels like holding a breath and taking a reckless plunge to just dive all in to the storms on life’s ocean, too.

Praise God, in the storms of our heart He is our life and breath.

It’s safe to lay down and let the waves wash over your soul, sweet friend.

It’s safe because God is in the ocean… His love is the current…

And He’s going to use every wave to take you gently to the place He wants you.

You only need to stop fighting, dive in, and trust Him.

“Do You Know Who You Are?”

Published on by Jackie1 Comment

Summer has been a whirlwind so far, and here, nearly the end of July, I’m finally pausing to catch my breath.

I fully expected to be writing long blog posts processing all the changes in my life when school ended, but instead, I have had no words.

There have been all kinds of feels to feel, and no way to describe them.

Choosing to step out in faith and close the door to teaching after living in that role for six years…

Preparing to move hours away from home to start an exciting VS opportunity…

Enjoying every opportunity to spend with my family and church people and friends, because soon I won’t be seeing them as often for a season.

And now, here I am at the beach. With the besties. For three blissful days in a glamping dome.

Yesterday, trying to catch up, all of us used many words in an attempt to explain our lives to each other.

As I muddled through a description of my transition season, a calm voice asked me, “Do you still know who you are?”

Yes and no.

I know Whose I am.

And I know who I am, in Christ.

Redeemed. Chosen. Beloved.

But my role in my family, my church, my youth group, and as a teacher… those are all either lost or changing. Who am I going to be to the people currently around me, and who will I be to those who will share the next season with me?

I don’t know what that will all look like.

She nodded, satisfied.

“Whoever loses his life for my sake shall find it,” she reminded me.

And finally, I have something solid to grab hold of in all the shifting unknowns.

I followed God’s guidance to “lose my life,” or very much let go of the comfortable life I had.

Jesus promised that if we do this, if we lay down our plans for His, we will find life.

He’s not going to leave me uprooted forever. There is a beautiful planting ahead for me where I will put roots down again and thrive.

And last night, as I lay cross wise in a king size bed, sandwiched between two awesome friends who make this crazy life a whole lot easier, I smiled up at the plastic dome overhead.

Right then, I knew where I belonged.

In the middle of everything that is changing, I have Jesus to walk with me. He is going to fill my life in the next season.

I will always belong with my family and friends, near or far.

And knowing my place with my friends is especially easy when they’re so near that rolling over is impossible without waking somebody up.

I’m smiling out at the clear blue water that will soon lose its tranquility when we go splashing in.

I do believe, time at the beach is good for my heart.