where the light leaks through

We spent a week with my husband at a camp he spoke at last week. We danced and clapped during the worship songs, and my sons automatically raise their hands up in worship. It feels good to know we are raising them in a worshipping environment. My husband reads them Bible stories every night before bed, we listen to songs about the Father as we drive down the road, and we run after the Holy Spirit like a wild goose chase.

I sat with a friend while we were away, and she spoke into our life. she listened to my story. Spoke confidence into my heart. Reminded us that we are tethered together. Walking in the same direction, tethered by God. For a bit in our marriage it’s felt like we were tied together, running in opposite direction. Then my husband sent me some words tonight that confirmed how tethered we are, walking in the same direction.

I remember when we moved away, I sat in my dream but I kept hearing Him say, “the dream becomes the curse when you worship it more.” And the more I tried to control the dream, the more it unraveled. But He was so kind, so patient. To let me realize and see in our own time. To give me the dream despite the posture of my heart. So I give it up, hand it over to Him and trust Him to do whatever He wants to. And He was so kind and faithful in that. His sweetness forever changed the posture of my heart. And I’m no longer afraid to outwardly express to Him the way my insides have always felt for Him.

I know Father’s showing us deeper things. I know I’ll never be perfected, but He continues to strip back the old ways. The old things. Bringing new things to life. It’s like standing on the tip of my toes, reaching for more. More of His heart.

There’s something silently holy in this, like the unsung hero. These intricate moments of motherhood. My husband is gone another week for ministry, and our sons play at the sink together, here at home. I sit on the kitchen floor, head leaned against the wall, soaking in the ministry of being their mom. The light leaks through the window, and the Holy Spirit dances around the room as my boys laugh together.

We are patient for His direction and we are here, tethered together. And the Father keeps whispering, a new song is going to come out of me. And I’m learning where to find it. Where the light leaks through.

Photo by Amanda Allen

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down in the dirt

In 2015 I was prayed over in visions, and the Father showed me a wolf that was chasing me as I ran to a mountaintop. I was fearful until a brave welled in me at the top of the mountain as I was able to turn around, look into his yellow eyes and kick him in the face. I got that wolf tattooed on my hand with Genesis 50:20. Because the enemy is always after our story. he wants to bite our throat before we make it to the mountaintop, where we can scream it out loud. There’s some sort of healing in ourselves when we speak out our story, then that same healing flows through to others. The wolf was catching up with me again the last few years. I was believing that what I said was just pointless words and I was believing that my story didn’t matter. I was hiding behind my husband and motherhood and anxiety and the fear of (wo)man. Then yesterday, my sweet friend gave me a prophetic letter with the mention of that wolf. I immediately looked at my tattoo and remembered the first time I kicked him in the face. I remembered what he is after. And that I’d rather lay my head deep in the dirt next to Jesus than to please anyone with silent words just to make them comfortable. There’s a time to walk quietly in the deep of the woods to heal and let go and there’s a time to turn around, kick the wolf in the face and use your voice. 🌿 you intended to harm me, but God’s using it all for His good..

Holding loosely

When I had our firstborn, I held him so tight. He was a gift from the Father that I fervently prayed for for years. And when he arrived, I was afraid to let go. I was afraid that if I did, I would lose him. He was my dream and I was not willing to risk any pain of loss regarding him, I didn’t completely trust the Father with my son and I refused to loosen my grip. The feeling of control that welled within me became too much to carry. The anxiety of keeping him safe at all times caused tension throughout my life.

It wasn’t until a friend gave me a prophetic word over my life a few years ago. She wrote me a letter full of words that no one else would know besides my husband and the Father. She mentioned my burden’s and my grip on the things I wasn’t trusting the Father with. Because I wasn’t trusting Him with the things He gave me in the first place. And it was all weighing heavy on my shoulders. Jesus was asking me to hand over a box full of my things, in exchange for His hand. But I was afraid.

I think the thought of a Father having better things for me was unbelievable. It was foreign to me. The only good memories I have of holding my dad’s hand was when I was a little girl. And the memories of then seemed so distant a few years ago. Trust was broken and I hadn’t held a good father’s hand in a long time.

But thankfully, I handed the Father that box. And I took His hand. And I still do it daily. Before we moved from home, I sat with my husband and our pastor in tears as I knew leaving meant handing over my box again. I had a vision of what I wanted our life to look like, here at home. At our church. And in our ministry. But He was inviting us away for a while. So I took His hand. Then He gave us our second son. The exchange was so worth it.

I stood in church today, it was the first Sunday in our new building. For a moment, the old vision snuck up. What I already gave to the Father a few years ago. I closed my eyes and damned the lie that anything could be better than where we are at now. I told Him the story in my heart this morning and He whispered words over me that allowed my soul to unravel. Then our pastor told us to hold the hands of the people next to us, but I was alone in my row. So I close my eyes and start to pray alone. A pastor in our church quietly said my name and reached for my hand, and I grabbed it. It felt like a father’s hand in that moment and I was overwhelmed.

I know within me I’m always searching for a father’s hand. And I know He is always reaching for mine, like this pastor did this morning, reminding me to hold on loosely to the box, and grip tightly and full of trust to His hand.

Oh Abba, I’m continually letting it all go. The dreams. What I thought I knew. My pride. Sometimes it aches to let go but I know you have the best in store for our family. And anything I’ve ever put in Your hands You restore more than I ever could have imagined. So I’m doing that again, right now. Holding loosely. And reaching for You.

the art of unlearning

You know that fight or flight feeling that overcomes you when the path splits & an unknown thing shows it’s scary face? Me, everytime, would search for the nearest open window. When the plan turned to the right or to the left off course, I would question every little word the Father whispered in secret. “But you said..! ..and I thought…! this way is better…easier.. faster…!!” And it happened again, a few months ago. Immediately I made my own plans to find that window. And I could have. The Father might have maybe even opened it for us to escape. But quickly, thankfully, my stomach turned and I remembered a word He spoke in secret. A new way. Not the old ways. A new thing. Watering the garden slowly… and surely, the flowers spring up. And all the while, there was nothing to escape from. Just the enemy showing who he really is again, a liar in the disguise of fear. Someone true told my husband years ago, don’t give up a million dollar future for a dime right now. And I’ve held onto that. I’m not questioning the things and the places and the people the Lord has tethered to my heart anymore. Well, I do for a second sometimes. But then I remember. The zig zag plan is good. And for our good. The people He gives us to do life with are good. He’s good. And always for our good. It’s all His great adventure. Wooing us in, never in a hurry for the next thing. I’m just quietly sitting back, trying to drink it in & unlearn it all. ☀️