Overcoming the Grumpies

Written on April 16, 2009 by emily

It’s no secret I’m not a morning person. It takes me a good few hours to really come to in the morning…and if you catch me before that time, I make no guarantees that I will be cordial or that I will even respond. My sleep-stupor is something I’ve  battled for years, and I haven’t yet figured out just how to loosen the grip the grumpies have on me. Yet, becoming a mama, you get less room to conduct your affairs just how you please, because there are these little faces that come to your bedside and stare you awake…or poke you awake…or shout you awake. There’s no telling just what you’ll get on any given morning. This week, however, our little ones have slept in a smidge longer (oh the blessing) and are delightfully cheerful when they wake. Makes it tough to stay grumpy! We’ve made a habit of all piling into our big bed and having morning cuddles, tickles, and odd toddler conversations. Even the youngest has taken to babbling with inflection in such a way that even if you have no idea what he’s talking about, you know he means it…you know when he’s making a statement and asking a question. I can’t say my grumpies will be gone from this day forward, but with all my heart, I want to be a cheerful riser with joyfulness bubbling out of me even before I know what day it is. Maybe these little ones will share the secret with me.

1 Comment | Emily

Simple Things

Written on April 14, 2009 by emily

Some of the simple things I love:

1. Sleepy children want nothing more than to cuddle into me and just stay put for a while.
2. When my husband gets excited about something…usually something nerdy…and can’t contain himself.
3. Phonecalls from far-away friends, especially the unexpected ones. I feel energized afterward.
4. Crunchy things, especially of the savory sort.
5. Discovering things I thought I lost.
6. Baby Feet. Toddler ones are cute too.
7. Pretty paper. I usually opt for the economical stationary, but the pretty papers call to me.
8. The smell of sweet things cooking in the oven.
9. Flat shoes. I’m just not a heels girl.
10. Taking a hot shower before bed. I like the tingling feeling on my skin as I slip into the sheets.
11. Sitting in the passenger seat. Driving in L.A. stresses me out.
12. When my house is delightfully clean.
13. Singing at the top of my lungs. I know my neighbors hear me, but I don’t care.
14. I like arriving at places. I don’t always like getting there, but its always a relief to park or get off a plane to meet smiling faces.
15. Morning kid-cuddles. I especially like the attack-baby kind.
16. Listening to my daughter sing random syllables when she doesn’t know the words to a song.
17. Randomness. Some think I’m far too practical for it, but I do love it.
18. Things that make me think. Especially really simple things.
19. The hugs my husband gives me that linger for a long time. I call them, “Disappearing Hugs.”
20. Reflecting. Connecting. Growing.
21. Discovering new things about people I know well.
22. Thoughtful gifts and gestures. Especially handmade/homemade ones.
23. Hearty baby chuckles.
24. A refreshing glass of water.
25. Curling up in a cozy blanket. Most preferably with a friend and a cup of hot chocolate (with marshmallows).
26. Squealing kids when the daddy tickle monster comes home.
27. Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs, Hearts, Trees, etc. Do they do pumpkins at halloween?
28. Googling stuff I want to know about.
29. Finding new music that speaks to my soul.
30. Bargain finds.
31. Sleeping in.
32. Reconciling and rebuilding relationships. I don’t like breaking them in the first place, but the reconciliation is wonderful.
33. Hearing tales of overcomers.
34. Making lists. Without them, I would be lost.
35. People who make stress disappear. I need help with that sometimes.
36. Familiarity. It’s nice to know and be known.
37. When my daughter plays “princess” and “superhero”…both involve the same costume–a blanket tied around her.
38. Seeing people smile. Especially when I know they’re going through hard things.
39. Optimism.
40. Painting. I’m no good at it, but I still like it.
41. Post-it notes. They’d be all over my house if it were up to me.
42. Ball-point pens that write smoothly. These are especially handy for my lists.
43. Witty humor. I’m not an easy egg to crack, but if you crack me, I’ll laugh until I cry.
44. Packages. Sending and receiving.
45. Comfy pants. I always change into some when I get home. They’re not always beautiful though!
46. Witnessing the creative genius of others.
47. Brave moments when I forget how insecure I am.
48. Exercising my heart. My body is another matter. One day maybe.
49. Strawberries. Real ones and Strawberry flavored anything really.
50. Jesus.

What are some of your favorite things? You don’t have to put 50 things if you don’t want to I don’t know how my list got so long so quickly!

3 Comments | Emily

Joys Renewed

Written on April 14, 2009 by emily

Joy Arising is now brand new. Hooray! There was nothing wrong with the old look, but it certainly didn’t have the joyful orange of this new template. I must give thanks to my beloved husband for creating yet another beautiful website for me….If you don’t know us well, just know that he gives new websites to me much like other men give flowers to their wives….only I like the websites better! Thanks babe.

I’m turning over a new leaf. At least, I would like to think its a new leaf. I may be turning over the same leaf over and over, but this is the first time I see it all as I do presently. This leaf is named ‘joyfulness’ and I’m learning that joy has almost nothing to do with our circumstances and everything to do with our attitudes. My journey toward joy has not been sunny day after sunny day…but I see now that sunny days are not even a key ingredient in the kind of joyfulness that is springing up in my garden. I’ve still got the same challenges and the same problems to deal with, but I suddenly feel light when I clue in to the hope Jesus has for me on a daily basis.

I recently said goodbye to the restlessness of my heart, and I’d like to also say goodbye to the overwhelming heaviness that I’ve carried on my shoulders for as long as I can remember. It is a nameless heaviness that has masqueraded as my friend, but I think our relationship is done. It’s so over. Because until I bid farewell to it, this joy cannot be with me at all times. They don’t seem to exist well together. So goodbye heavy heart, and hello joyfulness!

I do hope you enjoy the new look, and hope you’ll be back to read more soon.

8 Comments | Emily

Ebb and Flow

Written on April 8, 2009 by emily

So its been a while since I’ve ducked in. The longest stretch since I started on this writing journey, so I’m a little anxious to get my groove back. I’m surprised I’ve had so many new readers find me…I do wish all ya’ll would leave some comments and let me get to know you a bit. After all, I am baring my soul here. Seems only fair.

Change is in the air…well…I guess its more in my heart than anywhere else. I’m going on 14 weeks gestation with my third child and something about this little bean is changing me. In fact, each little bean (when they were little beans) changed me in the months before their birth, each in their own special way. The first one introduced me to rest, joy, freedom and many other things that were not part of my former life of heaviness. The second one brought purpose and a greater trust in God, a learning how to give my cares away to the One who carries them to the farthest corner of the universe. The third….this is getting serious here. This little bean is giving me vision and motivation to see my eternal calling as a worshipper and intercessor, and my present calling to be fully engaged as a servant to my family. There is a stirring and longing for holiness in a space where I used to tend my ambitions. I can’t say I really understand yet, but I see it. Visionary me.

As with the lovely hormone imbalances that come with pregnancy, my emotions have been subject to the ebb and flow of all things. Overall, I am very well. Feeling very good and peaceful about the adventures ahead. I’m still very up and very down at times, but I think that happens with passionate ones. I don’t think I’d be myself if that were not happening to some degree. But steady me, O God, that I would be unwavering as I look heavenward, and faithful to the daily things You have put before me.

New things are coming to Joy Arising, and though the timing isn’t set, I do believe they’ll surface soon. Be a gem. Leave a comment.

2 Comments | Emily

Curls

Written on February 24, 2009 by emily

Her curls are a manifestation of the free spirit within her. Not just free like wild, but free like free (though wild too at times). I don’t (at all) advocate neglect, but sometimes I choose to not pull them back in a ponytail or bring a brush to them because the curls are so lovely to me just the way they are. Wild and free. They bounce when she walks, and float when she dances. They poke out of the holes in her helmet when she rides her bike, and they tickle my face when she climbs up to cuddle with me. I suddenly understand why my own curls enchanted my parents when I was a little girl. There is something about them that tells of joy and exuberance. Something that passes on a smile.

I feel like I met her with the first flutters that happened in my womb around 23 weeks gestation. I had recently gone to bed, and was lying awake in the dark. The husband had already (just barely) drifted off. I don’t remember what I was thinking about (who can keep track?) but I do know there was all at once, one instant that I shot straight up in my bed. My breath was caught in my throat and for a moment, I thought I had imagined it. Flitter flutter. I immediately teared up and started shaking my love awake, exclaiming that I had felt the baby move! There was no mistaking it as it continued, and tears streamed down my face between bursts of astonished laughter. I marvel now that my darling girl was dancing long before she took her first breath.

Dancing and I have a sour history at best. Somewhere in my ‘barely surviving’ years, I lost the capacity or desire to expressively move my body. Perhaps because my expression might have been less than positive in keeping with the feelings I had inside, or perhaps because my rigidity was the only structure holding me together (so I thought). I was truly paralyzed. Even as a singer, I stood on the stage stiff as a board because one iota of movement threatened to fling open the floodgates I was so dutifully keeping closed. So I became a master at closing down. I grew up very fast, and convinced many that I was truly mature beyond my years, when in fact, I just became good at stuffing my childlike heart in the dungeon where no one could find it, including myself.

Its tragic that people can close down so quickly and take so long to open up again. Rediscovering my childlike heart has been a long and arduous journey, but I do believe my children, especially my firstborn, have accelerated the process. I recently shared with a friend what I have gained from each of my children during pregnancy and their early years. I feel like each one has changed me from the moment I knew of their existence…like they added to me a blessing, or blessings, that go far beyond the delight a new baby brings. Blessings that could not be anticipated or scripted any more masterful form. My firstborn has taught me how to dance again, and has unearthed that childlike heart I’ve been missing. She makes me laugh, and we spend at least some time every single day dancing around our house together. Because of the joy I have in her, I can understand the joy God has in me…and the joy He has for me. Those who knew me back in the day know how monumental a discovery this is. Go Jesus.

She shows me the beauty of freedom, the joy of surrender to God, and the overwhelming meaning that comes with turning a stone heart outward again to be vulnerable, moved, inspired, and filled. Her curls are therapy for my wounds.

5 Comments | Emily

Identity Crisis

Written on February 23, 2009 by emily

I started this topic some 6 months ago, and it is very safe to say that I have slightly new and different thoughts on it after just a half a year of percolating. I’ll be the first to admit that this has been a notable part of my journey through my early twenties, but I will also be the first to admit that there is much more to life than ‘finding yourself’. First of all, ‘yourself’ is such a dynamic and changing entity, especially in youthful years. The young often think of themselves much differently than they really are, for better or worse. I have known countless gorgeous girls who think they are not attractive, plenty of folks that think they are the bees knees and spend all their time trying to convince everyone else they are too. I have known individuals who talk about having the freedom to do anything they want to do, but having seen that they are not in fact free from the bondage they sow with their self-proclaimed license, I’m not so sure they understand what freedom really is. I have met people who literally believe that they are worth nothing. Who we are, and what we think about ourselves are two very different things.

There is something to be said for exploring the world, asking questions, and acknowledging that not all things are settled within you. I don’t mean to belittle that journey or rob from it any meaning that might be found. I myself have been on a similar journey. I also don’t have any judgement for the above listed, those who see themselves differently than they might really be. I have my own moments. The ones that leave me feeling like I’m the world’s worst mother, or the weirdest person around. In my rational moments, I know neither of those are true. Note to all: Be aware that the way you think about yourself is not the foundation of truth. We’re so quick to let our feelings guide us, but whoa to ye on the wayward path of feelings. Trouble is ahead, if not present.

What I hope to say here, in this space, is that searching for your ’self’ may not be what you really want or need. I’m beginning to think that searching for oneself often becomes a circular journey, or one that really doesn’t take you anywhere at all, which is certain death to the adventuring spirit. Searching for God however…sweet adventure. Who can discover all of who He is? Who can comprehend Him even in tiny doses? The very idea of knowing Him as He is in all His grandeur excites me beyond belief. The intimacy of knowing Him as He is in all His humility comforts me much the same. Learning about Him teaches me about me, and exactly who I am in Him. He is the One that is unchanging and ever true. He is the One who is constant. Certain. Faithful. While I am ever changing and only sometimes true. Fickle and Faithless. How thankful I am to be hidden away while the Alpha and Omega illuminates for me who He is and who I am in His thoughts. 

I urge you to build your house…your thoughts…on the rock. The sand has nothing to give you.  Matthew 7:24-27

2 Comments | Emily

Seasons and Surprises

Written on February 23, 2009 by emily

Sometimes the seasons change all too quickly. Perhaps that is why they are seasons, and not eras or ages. One day you can wake up and the snow is gone, the sun is out, and new life is budding. Not that I’ve been ‘in winter’ inside my heart…quite the contrary. I’ve been full of joy and purpose and thanksgiving for the blessings in my life. I have learned to enjoy quietness, though it is still not where I’m most comfortable. I have learned to open my hands instead of keeping a tight grip on things. I have learned to listen more often than I speak…some of the most important lessons come in whispers. And I have learned to just say Yes to Jesus when He’s up to something I don’t understand.

One of those times is now. I say Yes to what He has for me. That just happens to be a new baby, for those who didn’t catch on in the last poetic midnight prayer. Surprise! I’m surprised too. In one terrific moment, God leapt out of a 2×4x1 inch box labeled “First Response” to tell me, “Surprise! I have another blessing for you!” I love surprises, but am not often truly surprised, because my brain is constantly gathering and organizing information. I find myself picking up subtle cues and clues without meaning to, and those attempting to surprise me get about half the bang they were looking for. That annoys me about myself sometimes. If I were only a little more oblivious, I might be more easily surprised. I guess in this case, it is a non-issue because I was true blue surprised. 

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Midnight Prayer

Written on February 13, 2009 by emily

Many miss the blessings you give, Oh Lord. Shouldering disappointment. Stuck with a pin called inconvenience or faithlessness. Shades on their eyes that keep them from seeing the sparkling treasure you have planned. Some let the weight of worry come sooner than the wave of joy that is surely at home with your gifts, no matter how surprising they be. 

Don’t let me be a foolish woman. I say yes to You. I say yes to what You give to me. Whether or not I understand why, I want what you’re offering, and I sit here with open hands and heart. I have tears – rejoicing ones that are glad to sacrifice whatever it takes, and glad to be poured for Your purpose at any time. Bless me, O God, and I shall be blessed. I shall be joyful and filled with gratitude for Your lovingkindness toward me. I will exalt Your name in all the earth, and I will be a living testimony of Your goodness…Your majesty. Within me I carry Your miracle of life. I’m so humbled. And so desperate to hear Your voice for each step I must take. Be with me now, and speak to me, Jesus. My ears are open.

No Comments | Emily

Small Fish

Written on January 23, 2009 by emily

I feel small a lot of the time. Not small in stature, and not even small in the self-depreciating sense, but small in comparison to the story I’m a part of. I feel like a small fish in a big sea…but even if I could trade up and be a big fish in a small sea, I think I’d have to pass. There is something compelling, something captivating about being part of a story bigger than myself; something refreshing about being part of a movement that is beyond my control or my imagination. I find great comfort in knowing that my adventures are just beginning, and the best years of my life are still ahead, because though I’ve had a few in my day, God continues to surprise me in delightful ways as I gain some distance and perspective from those passed.

When I more closely resembled a belly-up fish, I couldn’t really register the movement of the water, or the significance of the story outside my small, broken heart. I was consumed with myself, my pain, my struggle, and my loss. Granted, when you lose everything you hold dear, I think there is grace for the time you need to come to terms with it and search for hope as well as what comes next. It took me almost a decade, but grace faithfully held me up. Now the ‘my’ part of the story seems so small…like me…And the bigger story is becoming clearer in my spirit. I feel like a strong, but little fish who is ready to be caught up in the wonder of God’s epic tale of love. 

I feel small because my understanding is quite elementary. I’m able to stack up the blocks of truth, ‘He is love,’ and ‘I am His,’ but these are really only the ABC’s of God’s Kingdom. There are 123’s and what I imagine to be more like encyclopedias than storybooks about the riches of God’s heart, waiting on shelves in places I’ve not yet discovered. I feel small because I feel like God has hidden me in my own little space, where He visits me personally, gives life to my weary soul, and speaks His mysteries when I’m still enough to listen. It’s just me and Him, though I know there are schools and schools of saints also hidden away in their own little spaces. I love the privacy and community of life in God. I love that it is intended to be both personal and public. More than ever, as I make new friends who love Jesus, I’m thankful to be a small fish amongst other small fish with big faith. 

When you’re a small fish, there is a lot to explore, a lot to experience and enjoy. Simple trues are welcome because complex ones seem more like a fisherman’s hook. When you’re a small fish, you can swim in the shadows of the depths of the deep, and even the smallest spaces can accommodate you. I envision some of the corners of God’s heart to be like the tiny spaces in a coral reef…hidden treasures in unreachable places except by the smallest sea creatures that dart through and around them with ease. Small fish rarely brave the waves all by their lonesome. They hang with their gang and journey together. That’s why I like to think of myself as a small fish. Speaking of my gang, I appreciate those of you who are journeying with me. Writing this frequently and faithfully has always been a big challenge for me and your continued encouragement helps me to continue. Bless you, small fish friends.

No Comments | Emily

Goodbye, Restless Heart

Written on January 20, 2009 by emily

I will not miss you. I once thought I’d be lonely without you. Lonely or lost. Truth is, you never were a terrific companion. You clung to me with feverish desperation, but your constant presence was anything but loyalty…anything but faithfulness. You were not a friend. You were more like a blister, constantly reminding me of my pain instead of my promise. The half-empty cup instead of the one running over with restoration. You let me believe, or at least entertain, that hope for healing was futile. You put mufflers on my ears to keep me from embracing the kindest words I’ve ever heard. Jesus loves me. Jesus loves me. He loves me, and the future and hope He has promised is now under my feet. He is my future and hope, as well as the Rock on which I am standing.

You’ve spent far too much time illuminating my wounds, letting me live as a victim instead of a victor. You’ve let me wander and wail without direction. You built a seemingly strong and sturdy wall around me, and though your intention was to protect me, walls can never take the place of the One who is refuge. The trumpets have sounded, and your stones have crumbled to the ground. Still, I am protected…by walls, or hands if you will, that do not fail. You tried to be the glue that held all things together, but as we’ve concurred, that didn’t hold. You tried to be the solver of problems, but accepting one packaged problem to throw up on your back in the giant bag of others you carry is no way to resolve. It is a quick way to be buried. But the funeral is over, and there no more lies a lifeless body in the ground. 

You’ve been with me for many years, on a journey I have been proud to take. I would not change it, but I will not miss you. I bid you farewell as I discover new purpose and a new heart of confidence in the Holy One who has carried away my sorrow. I no longer need you to hold me together. So goodbye, restless heart.

No Comments | Emily