Bursting

Two months ago today, my husband walked up the steps and across the Pacific-black-and-red platform to accept his diploma and doctoral hood.  It was a hot, humid day in May when, surrounded by my family and his, I watched my husband finish his journey as a student and step into his new role as Doctor. (I only cried a little) Four years, three major Boards exams, four different preceptorships, and countless hours upon hours of studying later… we’re done. This post has surely been a long time coming, but – as it is wont to do – life inevitably hit “fast-forward” the moment he crossed the platform. And here we are, two months later.

Dr. Cole Boboth. I could not be more proud. “Proud” even seems the wrong word. I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I could not be more honored. I feel so honored to have been the one chosen to stand on the sidelines of this journey of his, cheering him on and watching him excel and grow into one incredible doctor.  Guys, can I just tell you about my husband for a second?

Here’s the deal: Optometry school ain’t no joke. It’s four intense years of studying, dilating, refracting, studying, testing, and studying and studying and studying. It’s a lot of material and a lot of work; and it takes a lot of time. And you know what? He’s done. We’re done. And through it all, Cole maintained the most incredible attitude and balanced his roles as husband and student with amazing grace.

It certainly was not easy, no. However, in the midst of the late nights and the big tests and the multiple relocations, these four years have been a phenomenal display of God’s faithfulness and grace in our lives.  I want to sit here and spill ALL.THE.WORDS. about how amazing my husband is and how hard he’s worked and how sacrificially he’s loved me and how proud I am to call him mine – but if we’ve learned one thing over these last four years at all, it’s that it was never about Cole in the first place. Granted, Cole worked his hiney off and I am humbled and grateful beyond words at how God has blessed Cole’s hard work; but even then, it’s not about that.

These four years have been so, so sweet and so, so hard.  They have been years of God wrenching from my hands plans that I’ve held too tightly – only to be replaced with plans far better than we could have dreamed up.  They have been years of late nights riddled with anxiety, as God gently put His finger on places in my heart over which I warred for total control. They have been years of discomfort, as we struggled to find our place and establish friendships in a new city – and then, as we had to say goodbye to those friends who had become family. They have been years of selfishness, frustration, and sanctification, and God (oftentimes through my husband) graciously reminded me that all is grace. They have been years of ridiculous laughter and hormonal tears and so many more games of “Four on a Couch” than we can count. They have been the very best four years of my life, spent by the side of my very favorite person. And I am so stinkin’ grateful.

This journey has been so long and so very short. And here we are at its end – a teensy bit travel-weary, a little overwhelmed, and so, so, so very grateful for the way in which we’ve seen God work in our lives through it all.  And now we stand at the beginning of our next adventure – excited for what’s to come and eager to trace the faithfulness of our Father in the journey.

In My Valley

There have been times in my life when prayer has not come easily.  For one reason or another I am occasionally rendered uncharacteristically speechless, whether I cannot put words to the pain or joy in my heart, or I am simply so confused that I do not know where to start.  It is in those times that I lean heavily on Scripture.  Praying through Psalms or other passages has often been a source of comfort and peace. Other times, I have been incredibly encouraged through the prayers of other saints.  

These last few weeks have seemingly stripped my prayers of any content.  So many days, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, I fall before the throne of Grace with no words, just tears.  My prayers sounded more like, "Please, please, please..." than anything else. I read and reread Romans 8, hoping desperately that the Spirit would intercede and make sense of my senselessness.  And then, I came across this prayer (from Valley of Vision) that echoed so deeply in my heart:

"Lord, in the daytime, stars can be seen from the deepest wells, and the deeper the well, the brighter the stars shine.  Let me find your light in my darkness, your life in my death, your joy in my sorrow, your grace in my sin, your riches in my poverty, your glory in my valley."   -Valley of Vision

This is it.  This is my prayer.  This is my prayer for me.  This is my prayer for my husband. This is my prayer for my family.  All of it.  May He shine more brightly in my brokenness, may I seek His glory in my valley.

Prepare Him Room

My heart has been cluttered.  I don’t know about you, but when my desk or kitchen counter is cluttered, I feel like I cannot be productive until it has been stripped clean and organized. And that has been my heart lately.

This holiday season, I have really been struggling to ‘get in the Christmas spirit.’  Yes, our home is decorated, the presents wrapped, and the Christmas classics are played on repeat.  But, this year has just been a little off for me.  So many times, I've felt like I am just going through the motions; and I have had little motivation to even decorate Christmas cookies and an unusual apathy for all things in general.  There have been days when I have actually wondered aloud, “Where is my JOY?”

I haven’t been able to put my finger on it.  This empty feeling, this foreign sense of apathy, this lack of joy.

Then, it hit me.  Hard.  Like a ginormous semi-truck to my heart.

We were standing in church on Sunday, singing an all-too-familiar Christmas carol when the truck hit.

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come; Let Earth receive her King!

Let ev’ry heart prepare Him room….”

How many times have I sung those lyrics mindlessly?  (I might have even breathed a sigh of disappointment that the music team had chosen this carol, when the song first began. Couldn't we have sung one of my favorites like, “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” or something?)

And then I sang, “…let every heart prepare Him room…”  Wham. I stopped singing, my voice caught in my throat. Let every heart prepare Him room... ... ... Isn't this what Advent is for: making room, preparing hearts?  What have I been doing these last few weeks?

I’d prepared my home.  I’d prepared my fridge.  I’d prepared my gifts. Heck, I’d even prepared my nativity.  But, my heart?  No room in the inn.

I have allowed the urgent to crowd out the Important. Rather, I have forgotten what is truly important in the first place. I have cluttered my proverbial workspace with trivial things in such a way that my “productivity” has come to a complete halt.  And, in turn, I have developed my own definition of “productivity.”  I have been so busy cleaning out the barn that I have overlooked the child in its manger.  I've forgotten The Joy.  And I'm tired of it.

I want to be stripped bare.  I don’t want my heart to have to “prepare Him room;” I just want my heart to be all Jesus in the first place.  He rules the world with truth and grace.  The truth is, I've been struggling; the Grace is, He's helping me to strip bare my workspace, prepare Him room, and He's settling in.

I don't want to wrap this up with a shiny bow and sparkles, however, because it's not over.  This is, and will be, a daily, messy battle.  A daily purging and cleaning.  A daily choice for more of Him and less of me.  A daily letting go and holding on.   A daily shoving aside of those things that scream for stake of my heart in order to preserve Him room.  My hope in sharing this is that this proves, by His grace, the glories of His righteousness and the wonders of His love.

I hope you all have a wonderful, Christ-filled Christmas!

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Amnesia

I did it again.  I forgot.  Now, I know that forgetfulness comes with age, but I'm not ready to claim that as an excuse just yet.  Somehow, I forgot that I don't have to keep trying, I don't have to keep forging ahead on my own, I don't have to lay awake at night worrying in a fruitless effort to control my circumstances.  

He is good.  He is always good.  And He is extraordinarily faithful, even when I am exposed as completely faithless. 

In two specific circumstances this week, we received favorable outcomes to situations about which I had been *somewhat* concerned. (Ha! Understatement.) In both situations, I breathed a sigh of relief and simultaneously marveled at God's goodness and faithfulness to us. 

Then it hit me.  It happened again.  And I realized that my interpretation of that which is good and that which evidences God's faithfulness is incredibly skewed.  So often I view God's goodness as that which answers my prayers as I had hoped or meets a desire or need in the way I wanted.    (Of course, this is only after I'd been worked up with worry, failing to rest and trust.) And, when those good things happen?  Well, sure, I'll happily marvel at the way that, yet again, God has been good to us.  It's pretty easy, actually.  

But when things get hard?  Well, that's when I have a tendency to look to the one person I just know will never fail me.  Me.   And I try harder, and work longer, and worry stronger, and worry stronger.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I may cry out in prayer begging that circumstances change - all along hoping for that favorable outcome that could finally signal that God has not forgotten about me.  But all too often, what I fail to see is that, yes, even in the *seemingly* unanswered prayers and the unfavorable outcomes, God is still good and God is still faithful and God is still El Roi, the God who sees, and I am still a child sinfully whining to get her way, even if 'her way' may lead to destruction.

It amazes me how quickly I forget His past provision.  It's embarrassing how easily I write off trials or frustrations as such, and not as "His Ultimate Good."  So, what do I do now?  Well, I promise to try harder to remember, I resolve not to overlook His workings in my life, I try... I try.... I try... and, there, I've done it again.

And all I can do is repent and pray for the humility to recognize His ongoing faithfulness and goodness in all things.  All things.  And rest in the Grace.  Rest, not work.  Rest and remember.

All is Grace.

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Trust Issues

It's been quiet around these parts - and that completely belies the pace of our lives. For the past 5 weeks, I have been in and out of town on the road for work.  It's been a challenging 5 weeks, and we're only just halfway through.  This season has certainly given us a greater appreciation for each other and a greater appreciation for our military families who endure much harder and much longer absences than this.  Either way, it's been tough.

I've sat down to write often, but have never really been able to put my feelings to words.  Then, once I was able to, I didn't like hearing the negativity that poured forth.  You see, these last five weeks have been riddled with loneliness and anxiety; and, lest you think we have it altogether (ha!), I'm afraid that this place would have been a broken record of the two.  

But He is faithful. 

And in the exact moment I needed it, He was there. And in the moments when I was sinfully unaware of my need, He was there too.  Encouraging sermons, edifying books, and sweet Scripture have buoyed those days that are particularly dark.  And then, as if that's not enough, He paints skies like these:

I've been reading through Lydia Brownback's book, Trust; and, I came across a quote that has been a lifeline of sorts as I strive to unbuckle this burden of anxiety and lay it at the foot of the Cross.

"Real faith isn't the belief that God will do a particular thing; real faith is the conviction that God is good, no matter what He does and however He chooses to answer our prayers."  - Lydia Brownback, Trust.

All is Grace.  How quickly I forget.

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Safe Place

It's him.  And it's Him.

If there's one thing I've learned, it is that life never ceases its crazed pace.  We continue running until we're worn through, then we strap on new shoes and run all the more. Stress finds fertile soil and drives its roots down deep.  Its early buds begin to peak out in the quiet of the night, when the mind seeks hibernation and then the sleepless nights string together in a blur.

And yet, at the end of a long day, when it seems that my mind will not cease its spinning, he is there. And everything else disappears. And it is us, again. The rest of the world fades away. The frustrations, stresses and fears evaporate with the sound of his laugh, the smell of his shirt; and I am at peace.  The sound of his voice slows my heart and quickens its pace all the same.  The strength of his arms and the words of his prayers tell me I am untouchable. 

And, in that moment, he leads me to the Safe Place. And he lays me at the foot of the Cross and he lifts me up and he holds me tight and I am safe.

And I know, my heart has found its home.

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Note to Self

I could use this reminder every day...

"Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.  If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves. Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else,  for each one should carry their own load."

-Galatians 6:2-5

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Trying

I want to be the best.  I want to do it all.  I want to be all things to all people.  And, I want to do it flawlessly.  I want to be the best wife, the best daughter, the best sister, the best friend, employee, runner, cook, Christian, housekeeper, musician, writer... the list goes on.  Whatever I do, I want to do it well.  Better than everyone else.

And it's exhausting.

This is nothing new.  I've always had a mean competitive streak.  A character trait that is somewhat helpful in a game of cards, but not always so helpful in life.  I often even find myself unwittingly 'competing' against no one in particular, rather my own idea of perfection.  A goal completely unattainable.  And so I fail.

Then, when I inevitably fail, the only option that remains is to try harder.  You can deduce the downward spiral from there.

Lately, through divinely placed books, conversations, and wise, loving friends, this particular issue has been brought to the forefront of my mind.  Ever so slowly, I am being taught how imperative it is that I let go of this cycle of striving.  Life seems much more manageable when I think that I can control my surroundings.  Funny thing is, that couldn't be farther from the truth.

What I need is not to be all things to all people.  What I need is not to be the best at whatever I put my hand to.  What I need is to fail.  I need to recognize how truly broken, needy, incapable, and far from perfection I really am. And until I do, I will not be living the life that glorifies the One who is worthy.  For it is in my weakness that His strength is revealed.

I write this, not as one who has come, seen, and conquered.  I write as one who is yet in the midst of the battle.  The war rages, the blood stains; yet I must - in His strength - continue to fight to seek and obtain the freedom, the peace that comes with releasing my self-inflicted burden at the foot of the Cross, for He promises that His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

May I ever step aside so that when others look at me, I disappear and they see Him.

"What heights of love, what depths of peace... When fears are stilled, when strivings cease.
My Comforter, my All in All... Here in the Love of Christ, I stand."    - In Christ Alone

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