spring break // 2018

People always say this, but I'm going to say it again because no matter how many times you say something it doesn't make it any less true: 

the Lord's plans are not our plans. His timing is not our timing, and His ways are definitely not our ways. They're higher and they will prevail every.single.freaking.time. And sometimes, in our human perception, they suck.

I've heard this all my life, and I still need to remind myself of it before I get too confident on my own high horse and think I've got control of my every move. The truth is I have zero control, and I'm pretty sure the Lord knows that the best way to drill this reality into my head is to let me experience it up-close and personal.

Nearing the middle of this semester at college, I was feeling done. (Done in this instance means any one of frustrated, exhausted, incapable, or starting to hate all my teachers, not literally finished, because unfortunately this is only my first year.) I was holding out until Easter break, when I could forget it all for a little while, and the sun would come out, and we could wear short sleeves and go places and watch movies and make cookies like I didn't have time to. Mike and I had such wonderful plans for break and all the things we could do. My sister Sadie had been sick for a week, but I was still feeling great, and in my proud head, there was no way I was getting sick.

(You see where this is going, don't you?)

I got sick. My mom got sick. Sadie stayed sick (with me, which was really nice of her.) My dad got sick. Molly came home from school, made it through Easter, went back to school and got sick. (Shocker.) So I spent my whole first week of break in bed, I had no voice to sing Easter morning, and had a nasty cough following me for the rest of my second week. Not what I had planned. At all.

Part of me was like, what the heck? Here it is Easter weekend and my whole family feels like literal crap, when we need to be celebrating the Savior! Part of me was a little mad. But I know how I am, and I know how He speaks to me. I kept thinking, Yes, Lord, I get it. I'm not happy about this but I get it.

It's humbling. That you can still worship the Lord when you do feel like literal crap -- and you should. That you can settle for less than your best, because it's not about your strengths and whatever you're capable of. Cause here's the thing, my friends, and you already know this: we are really, really weak. In fact we're useless, without the Savior in us. When we forget He's there, and edge Him out on what should be His control in us...well, He's in control in the end, and He's going to get that across. It might come on like a cool spring breeze, but more than likely it's going to come on more like a sore throat and a headache.

I didn't get to travel far and wide while I was on break, but I did learn a few things. I'm blown-away grateful for a guy who will come to my house and spoon-feed me when I look like crap just because he wants to, and for a family who can still make me laugh when we're all in the same rocking boat. 

Sara Groves, in her song called This Cup, sings about our "chasm of need" as humans. I love this phrase so much. Do you know what a chasm is? It's defined as a "deep fissure in the earth, rock, or other surface" or  "a profound difference between people, viewpoints, feelings, ect." I'm going to combine those two and call it a "profound fissure between what we need and what we can provide for ourselves." That's where our Savior comes in. That's why He was sent, worked, died, and came back -- because we have such a huuuuuuuge chasm of need that we can never, ever fill or compensate for. But that chasm is erased, and so I can stand in Christ, and run and dance and sing (even when my throat is swollen and I have no voice!) and be lacking in nothing because my spirit is full, and my need is no more.

See? I'm blown away.

Easter never disappoints. This whole past week I've been thinking about it, and slowly getting back my health, and I have gotten to do some of the things I wanted to over break. Nothing has been a mistake, about my silly little disappointments, down to the serious details of my life. I may not have wanted it that way, but I don't know. His ways are not my ways; His ways are far, far above and better.

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the why of it

     I don't know why chocolate chips taste better frozen.
     I don't know why some people make you angry just being around them.
     I don't know why Ryan Bingham is so unbelievably amazing.
     I don't know why I get so set on one thing and then fall apart when it doesn't happen like I wanted.
     I don't know why it's so hard to drive a stick-shift.
     I don't know why my cat has to go outside for three seconds and then come in again.
     I don't know why Amish men are so much more attractive than regular (um how about English) men. (Oh wait I do know why - it's because they work and use their muscles, duh.)
     I don't know why it's so easy to check Instagram first thing in the morning when my Bible's sitting right there.
     I don't know why I always want what I can't have as soon as I can't have it.
     I don't know why the Flicka soundtrack sounds like National Treasure.
     I don't know why some words are considered bad.
     I don't know why my favorite people live so far away.
     I don't know why Texas is so much cooler (I mean hotter) than any other state.
     I don't know why I have clumsy days.
     I don't know why I have mean thoughts sometimes.
     I don't know why some evenings are so beautiful it physically hurts.
     I don't know why Jesus loves me all that much.

     But I know He does.

     I know why He put you and me together.
     I know why He gave us all different gifts.
     I know why He made it take so long for me to realize some things.
     I know why He made some dreams fall through.
     I know why He made twilight.
     I know why He gives us a day of Rest.
     I know why He put us in families.
     I know why He tests us to our limits.
     I know why He gives us another chance when we least expect it.
     I know why He sends judgement.
     I know why He gives grace.

     I don't understand it, but I know why.

     "For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace."  - Romans 6:13

     **********

     YOU GUYS you should really go read Romans and listen to Ryan Bingham's music (but not at the same time).

~Emma <3

create

 

      To preface this, I will say that Youtube is a beautiful thing. This afternoon while I was writing a very boring paper for school, listening to one movie theme after another, I realized that my entire homeschooled career would have been 99% less interesting and bearable if it hadn't been for Youtube and its unending musical possibilities. Also, autoplay. You never know what's going to come on next. You discover the most beautiful gems (like this one that's got me walking around with stars in my eyes) (I just want to listen to that song over and over and over).

    Today the music made me think. I write. I don't know why, I just do. I have all my life. I'm really bad at it but once in a while I crank out something really good (I only show the good stuff on this blog, so you all think I'm amazing, but actually...I'm not). I'm terrible and yet I keep trying -- even when I hate it -- even when there doesn't seem to be any point or any reason to keep going.

    So...why do I write? Why do we all have that one thing we love to do that we couldn't live without? I think maybe everyone does, even if they haven't found what it is yet. It's some sort of need to create. Why do we have this crazy urge to make our own form of beauty when everyone else and their second-cousin has already written the book, made the movie, recorded the song, stitched the quilt? It's all there for us to enjoy, but no, that's not enough. We've got to do it ourselves, our own way, and we don't feel complete until we do.

    I believe it's because we are born of a Creator. We are all made in the image of God and we are His beautiful work. He was the first One to create beauty, and He planted that same seed of desire in all of us. Because of Him we have to do this.

    Those are my thoughts. How do you feel about it?

~Emma

 

when my people pray

the sky is pink - we must take a picture.

 
      People talk about love languages. I don't know for sure what mine is -- maybe acts of service. But one thing I've realized is, nothing makes me feel loved so much as when somebody prays for me.

     There are all sorts of definitions for what prayer is. For some even the word is super intimidating. I know when I was younger, at church or bright lights or whatever, when I heard, "Emma, would you pray?" it was about the same thing as "Emma, would you go stand on those tracks until the next train comes?" I'd heard so many people pray -- I didn't know all those words. They sounded stupid when I said them. No, I can't pray for you. I don't know how.

     So I was never much of a pray-er. Not out loud anyway. I got bored in church when the pastor's prayer went on too long (or what I presumed to declare too long) and I tried to avoid praying whenever I could. Well, one good thing about getting older is you learn stuff you didn't understand before.What I didn't see before is that prayer is about the best thing we humans have got going for us. Prayer is the distinct honor and sacred privilege of talking with the Lord. It's a weapon, it's a balm, and it's a gift. It's the gift part I've seen in the last week.

     I had an interview last week over the phone with a guy in Colorado. I hate talking on the phone, even to my friends. (It's not you; it's the phone.) But I really want this position, so I was all ready to give all the right answers. When the call came I was prepared. I thought. But I wasn't. Because the first thing he did was say a prayer for us, for me -- over the phone -- and I was so impressed and humbled and overwhelmed with his kindness and the fact that he was praying for me, some person he didn't even know, over the freaking phone, was just too much for my soul to handle. My cup runneth over. I started to cry.

    Last night my sister and I were at rehearsal for worship on Sunday. There's always a prayer time before we start. Good old J. O. -- Pastor wasn't there so he took over leading the prayer, and he asked us specifically if we had anything we'd like to pray about. He asked after our family. And then he prayed for us -- those two girls who've been coming for six months, the ones in cowboy boots, the shy one and the one who plays the violin.

    I was tired. I don't have a hard life or anything but I started a job last week and I'm taking a college class somewhere other than my own house for the first time in my life and I'm trying to keep up with the expectations everybody has of me, and when I write it down it sounds really trivial but the truth is I'm just tired. When he prayed, it was better than eight more hours of sleep, and it was better than being given a perfect score on an essay, and it was better than any other method of relief, because it was straight to God the Father -- who cares -- from somebody with such a golden heart who cares, about little old me and my folks. Like how.

    When people pray for me it lifts a weight. It pulls back a curtain and lets light in. It's so noticeable, you can't mistake it. It's what they call a peace that transcends all else.

    I'm learning to value prayer a lot more than I used to. Part of that is learning how to receive it and give it as a gift -- one of the most important parts. It's a lot easier than you might think. It's a lot easier than I used to think, and the rewards are sweeter than anything else can bring.

    So I can pray for you, because you prayed for me, and because He listens to all of us and knows when we need it most.

~Emma

P.S. Happy Valentine's Day a day late!