Sooo thankful for...

Jesus.
The sound of Jason coming through the garage door.
Wise insights from friends.
Kanah wanting to get in bed with me in the morning.
My daughters’ curls.
Jason reading the Bible with the girls and seeing them mimick David doing his slingshot and the people singing hosanna and adam eating the apple.
Grace saying sweetly “that’s fuuuuunny” with a huge smile on her face.
Kanah asking me to sing Snow White in the dark at night (I make a different one up each time b/c I can’t remember the last tune I did) and then her pleased little giggle afterwards.
After-nap snuggles from the little ladies.
The book of Ephesians.
Random conversations with my hairdresser.
My husband's prayers over me.
Convictions.
Salem on my shoulder snoring before bed.
Having a son. What an insanely wonderfully amazing surprise to my heart.
My son crawling in high speed towards me with a hissing, excited-noise (you have to hear it) grin all over his face.
Unexpected doors to talk about being a Christian. Lights up my day.
Facebook homepage. Love listening in on so many lives.
Jeans that fit in a size I could stick with.
Our live-in family (as Grace said tonight – “Shawn Cowan, Kalle Cowan, Pearce Cowan”).
Morning snooze snuggles.
My toddlers teaching me they can handle memorizing Scripture “Be kind and compassionate to one another.”
$1 Large sweet tea from McDonalds.
When no one is in the house but me.
When everyone is in the house with me.
Salem loving playtime in his crib for thirty minutes every morning.
My kids liking church.
The Holy Spirit wanting to talk to me all day.
Helping my kids reconcile from the “I’m sorry for _” to the “Will you forgive me?” to the “I forgive you” and then laughing as Kanah runs away from Grace who wants to end it all with a kiss and a hug.
The rain setting on my sound machine, perfectly muted with two layers of clothing over it.
Lipstick notes on my mirror.
A clean floor.
Community group in my family room.
Posted comments, especially from my husband, on my blog.
My publisher online books.
The City (online network for churches).
How kanah exclaims “mommy!” if someone else has been watching her for me and she sees me for the first time in hours.
Grace’s trust for me.
Salem’s little legs wrapped on my left hip.
Writing night.
Piecing together overlapping tidbits and lessons and insights in my life and to see resolution.
Divine moments.
Moments I am convinced, by their actions or words, that I am loved by someone.
A look from my husband or friend from across a room that speaks volumes.
Sticker books with stickers that can be moved around.
Velcro shoes. Not for me, people.
Days I don’t have to wake up until 7:00am. (the college version of me would be so confused why I’d be thankful for that…)
Text messaging. Oh what a nice surprise. Shouldn’t have stayed stubborn so long.
Family. (I can’t believe I haven’t written that one yet).
Christmas cheer. The more obnoxious the better.
Forgiveness. I’m wrong so much, I don’t know how I’d live without it.
Scripture TRUTH running through my head.
Our marriage retreat.
Wednesday mornings. (me time)
Wednesday nights. (me and Jason time)
When someone tears up at something that means a lot to you.
Being heard. Being noticed. Being understood.
Being rooted in Christ’s love.
Hearing my mom’s voice when she answers.
Intentional gift giving.
People loving on my kids.
GRACE (=undeserved gifts from God).

"I believe" Retreat

Jason decided that we would go earlier this summer. I cried. I really wanted to go. We had the location. The season. The help with the kids. Inside of three years my heart handled miscarriage, waiting, a difficult hospital bedridden twin pregnancy, preemie difficulties, transition to mommy life, a surprise baby with two toddlers in tow, and many other toted burdens and heartaches from friends and family on this intercessor’s heart.

A marriage retreat was in order.

I’m selfish about sleep. But the idea of waking at 6:30am to get on the road didn’t make me cringe a bit. Popped right up. Stopped in at the bucks to get a breakfast pairing, made a second stop for Jason’s treats of choice and then got on with our four hour drive.

The plan was simple, but packed. We wanted to give each other individual retreats for a half day. Then we wanted to come together, share what the Lord said and what we had meditated on and then visioneer together about our marriage and family life. We needed to sit with Jesus, to know him better and to listen to him closely. I had many things I had been wanting to pray about and ask the Lord to minister to in me. I felt a near desperation to know for certain that the Lord would be able to root out certain sin issues in me, and to be completely transparent I’ll go further to say, most of which revolved around emotionalism – extreme sensitivities, reactiveness, defensiveness, and idolizing human relationships over my identity in Christ. I felt overwhelmed…by my own self. I needed to hear from the Lord and I hardly knew where to begin.

I was so looking forward to the alone with Jesus part. I’m a melancholic on paper. Melancholic mommies like to sit during their kiddos’ nap times. We think it would be nice if we had to go to “time out” . We like music but we also really like silence. We like to stare at things and think a thousand words. We don’t love in the moment questions or icebreakers because we know that to come up with our most sincere answers, we’d need some quiet time. We like to pull our little shells up over our heads and ponder. When my husband talks to me, I respond with lots of interesting comments in my head and think it’s all outloud until he says, “Do you have anything to say about that?’ I tease one of my friends, who is the truest version of this personality type, that when we had a lot of people over to our apartment in college, her favorite place to be was in my bedroom closet.

So with those tendencies of me in mind, envision my happiness in my lovely little shell thinking and writing and meditating and creating, and then contrast that with me in my family room with two toddler girls attempting to “share”, one crawling ankle muncher perched under the bottom shelf of the coffee table, dinner going on the stove, a re-heated cup of coffee in my hand, me ignoring the phone, and very frequent words of instruction and discipline and direction flowing off my tongue. Basically, although melancholics love to be at home, learning to take on the God given gift of mothering three children under three kind of means lots and lots of grace and a large learning curve.

So, needless to say, the alone part sounded like Christmas and birthday all wrapped up with a big bow!

Jason stationed himself at the “Sleepy Monk” coffee shop, since he loves people and action for his inspiration. Whereas I bundled up in my shell and a down vest, tucking essentials like my ipod, small Bible, and moleskin into various small pockets. It was super windy outside and kind of freezing but I could not wait to just walk and walk. Although I missed the little ladies and baby sa almost as soon as we pulled away, it was nice to not have to think about who needed a nap next or what I needed to cook for dinner in a few hours.

Jason had set this time aside for me to talk to Jesus. For me to hear from him about the deep things stirring in my heart, the convictions I was feeling, and to respond to him in praise and prayer. I am actually not great with free time. I kind of freak out about it and waste it a lot because there’s all this pressure on how to spend such a precious gift. So I thought about it before we had even left.

I started down the beach and happened upon David Crowder. The guitar picking began, starting my heart. I set my intent on just listening. Listening to someone else lead me in worship, teaching me the words of praise. Instructing my heart to just start saying to God the most simple and full truths I could muster myself to say. I was coming into this time with mostly thoughts in disarray. Confessions in a pile. Questions in phrases not yet legible. And thoughts scattered like puzzle pieces on a table, waiting for order. The Holy Spirit inside of me confirmed that this is where I needed to begin.

In the car on the way down I came upon Isaiah 43:19-21. He spoke to my heart and said, “Forget the former things. Do not dwell on the past. See I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. The wild animals honor me, the jackals and the owls, because I provide water in the desert and streams in the wasteland, to give drink to my people, my chosen, the people I formed for myself that they may proclaim my praise.”

The relieving message that rested on my heart was this: you do not need to conjure anything up or desperately figure anything out or set out to strategize the perfect plan. My work is to praise the Lord. I knew I had wastelands in my heart that were relieved to know that he would be sending a stream my way. Instead of seeing myself standing by that stream, I remember distinctly that I saw myself standing there and the stream came rushing towards me, where I had previously been standing on a dry place. I just had to stand and look towards Him. My work is to look to Jesus. To praise him. That word is so old sounding. So southern gospel sounding. How can it feel closer? Praise really isn’t much work besides stopping everything else and extending my thoughts to a humble place before Him. We mostly want to experience God and see Him work around us and then praise Him. But I think we are to lead with praise. Because then it’s about who He is and not just about what He does that pleases us. I was formed for the work of praise.

And let me just say…it’s like everything in me knows that when I do it! I was walking and praising and not worrying about my words or what to figure out or to sort through and I just felt a pleasure in enjoying God. I passed faces and groups and individuals talking and searching for shells and looking out into creation like I was and I could barely contain my silly smiles and sweet stinging tears. I wished for a beach for just me and Jesus so I could run with arms high and laughter all around. He would gift me with something of the like the next morning. But for now, walking and walking without time or concern but for what to praise next.

I sat for a long while on a huge piece of driftwood. I was so cold on my walk but I had found myself secluded from the wind and almost warm sitting there with my prayer journal. There were many people walking but I felt tucked away there, and unnoticed. I found such joy in reading Scripture over each of our children and then over various burdens I had for Jason in a moleskin I lovingly call “Jason 101” (an idea from the Song of Solomon series). I read the Scripture, placing their name within the verses. I read slowly and deliberately, so that though it was me reading, I would listen and meditate even more closely and intently upon the truth and life and grace I was praying over their sweet lives. These were not just words but the words of God breathing life.

I eventually found my way back to the Sleepy Monk, having no idea how long I’d been gone. We traded journeys, with me taking some time on the laptop to write while he checked in our room and then went on a walk. And then the remainder of the evening we ended our alone time and enjoyed a conversational journey back through all God had done.

When I woke up in the morning it was raining sideways but I was compelled again to go out. I walked into the wind bundled from head to toe for a total of about ten seconds, my flared pant legs blown tight against my ankles like skinny jeans, and my giant down, furry hood blew right off of me. As far as I could see up the beach I counted maybe three other determined combers. The music beat loudly in my head and I could barely see with the stinging rain on my cheeks. I relented and spun around the other way and stopped for a moment and my hood blew straight up again. I didn’t move. I felt God still me right there in that spot. Sometimes the most strange, anti-cultural thing we can do is to be still and stop the moving and spinning and clamoring and all of the noise.

I looked. And before me was a spoken word from the Lord. The sand was whisping past my feet, making quick zig zags all along the beach. The waves were ferocious and with each whip of the wind, the crest of the crashing waves blew wildly up into the air a few feet. The impressive Haystack rock sat unaffected by the sea, determined to be unshaken. The morning fog set itself over the scene and the backdrop of it all being a muted gray-blue sky, the dramatic contrast like that of something in an artsy movie. The strength of the wind and the fury of the ocean and the might of the rocks and the presence of the skies all felt so chaotic and untamed and wild. Yet there was order. And I just saw this as God’s word picture to me. The Holy Spirit whispered to me that God was greater, so much greater, than all of this, and though it appeared wild, the truth was that there was order in all of this. And to the unsettled places deep with in me that seemed to rule my entire being, which felt too big for God to order in me, he spoke that they were under His greatness. He could order them. He was enough. And in that moment my heart simply said, I believe you.

I needed belief. And he gave it to me. More than a formula or a deep study with numerous interesting revelations, I needed faith that God was bigger than all I was feeling overwhelmed by in my heart. This wasn’t a quick fix. I also felt him say more to me and confirm in the following days:

Confess these full truths to other believers. Lean on them. Let them minister to you. Let yourself cry. Break. Bend. Humble yourself. You need Truth. You are lost in lies. You must allow other believers to place truth on your mind. And I will give you the strength and courage to keep asking for it and accepting it. You need phonecalls with prayer, you need verses, you need checked on, you need accountability. You need to pray outloud almost constantly, even just one sentence at a time. You must read the Truth, the Word of God. It is your Life. You need to be laid low. Stay low. Stay on the ground. Stay out of fire. Lay at my feet. I will fight. I will place truth on your head. Lay the lies down. Let others lay them down when you cannot. Ask them to lay them down. Do not pretend you do not need help. Confess all weakness. Do not mind passing judgment even from those who love you. You must only take pride in the I Am. Not in who you are. Your biggest battles are believing I AM ENOUGH. I Am. Believing I am your Savior even in this. I Am. Believing I am the God who drives out despair, disappointment, hate, strife, jealousy, depression, fears and discord. I AM.

After my movie like moment on the beach under those muted blue skies, when I found my land legs again and began to walk, I looked down within just minutes and found a sand dollar. I love beach combing. And I especially love finding little treasures when I am not looking for them. That’s the best because it’s a gift instead of a clamoring. It felt a lot like the way I had found faith that day. I simply turned around and there was the faith before me and it all fell on me. I could not have wished it to be or made myself believe. I was given the faith and I was given the sand dollar when I didn’t even know to look for them. I picked up my little treasure, finding an inside pocket to stash it away in. And I immediately decided that this would be an “Ebenezer” for the faith God gave me to believe in him that day. And Ebenezer is a tangible reminder of what God has done in your life. The Lord put it on my heart right there that I should start a box of ebenezers, with each one labeled with what God did for me so that I could praise him in the coming years and with my children and their children.

Jason and I packed up our things when I returned. I put my tote together, which held a few Christian inspiration books, my calendar, my journal, my laptop and some pens. I don’t think I hardly touched any of them. It turned out that what God wanted to do was set me right in the midst of the magnified version of the unfettered places in my heart and demonstrate to me his loving power and might over them. God stilled me. I believed Him. And just weeks after a total meltdown over these very words I am about to write, I knew in my heart Jesus was enough.

She Speaks: Too much broccoli, more prayer

So it turns out that there's always something difficult going on for everybody. (Boy, will this be a bummer post, you're thinking. Well maybe not...)

Rocks hit our windshields. Traffic takes up our days. All our manmade stuff breaks. Even our God made stuff, like our gardens, get weeds and grow knarly and out of control. Our bodies and other people's bodies always have breakdowns going on, whether temporary like the flu, or ongoing like lupus or heart disease.

And then there's the bigger stuff that is kind of just continual. The jobs we were relieved to get or be promoted to get all wacky with discontent or demotions or a quirky co-worker or disillusionment with purpose in general. More serious disease or illness that weakens the body over time and steals life from not just one person but all who want that person to stay around to enjoy life with. Then there's the below the surface, hard to brush off, truth that every single relationship we are in is a good dose of hard work, whether it's simple forgiveness that they used an off tone or more devastating messes that consume every ounce of existance between two people.

I'm not even going to get into the worldwide crises of hunger, abortion, rape, genocide, disease, torment, abuse, slavery, or tyranny.

We are consumed with brokenness. Agreed? It's everywhere. If it's not for you, then somehow you must be playing that hop scotch game of life, avoiding the most dangerous squares, even though all of us at some point or on some days is inevitably going to be just that.

FYI. My gift is discernment. I'm doomed to write like this, though if you can make it to the end, there's always LIGHT. Can't help it ;). It's a gift, if you're willing to see it that way.

So on to my processing.

I had a friend over recently who is going through quite a lot. I actually admire her going through it. A lot of people stuff the kinds of things she is mentally and emotionally navigating and I know she'll come out on the other side of this or even just moment by moment in LIGHT instead of darkness.

My question for her was this: How do you live? How do you continue with life even though this difficult thing is consuming for you, understandably? How do you keep it from becoming an idol?

I ask for two reasons. One, I just think it is hard to function when incredibly hard things are happening. But two, even the things we hate, abhore, or want to resist with an outstretched arm can become our idols: our obsessions and ultimately what we "worship" b/c we think about them all the time and give all of our thoughts and efforts toward them.

I like what she said she'd learned. You get 20 minutes a day to process outloud. It's too hard to not talk about it so you must. But twenty minutes is enough to acknowledge it, work through a piece of it and then let it go again.

And to that, we added prayer. "Let it go" is a joke, right? I mean if it's really pain. If it's really sorrow. If it's really depressing. Then "letting it go" sounds kind of ridiculous. I mean, most of us are violently, wildly shaking and tossing our arms about trying to get this "thing" that is so difficult to un-stick on us, so just "letting it go" doesn't even seem like an option.

But then there is prayer.

If prayer is a piece to this puzzle, then this step of processing might just possibly bring a bit of freedom. Just this second as I am writing this I paused to try to think how to possibly sum up and capture what benefits to prayer there are when it comes to being able to let something go. And immediately came to mind a verse I just read the other day super randomly, maybe just possibly for this moment now.

Psalm 68:19 "Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens."

I think that might be one of the most beautiful pictures of God that I can imagine. The other night at community group (you know who you are!) the husband of my sweet very pregnant friend picked up their toddler and then she went to get the pack n play and he insisted on carrying that too. On Sundays at church, Jason almost always makes it a service to me to lug the kids around so it's easier for me to mingle with friends and so that he can keep a close eye on them. Even in little ways, when someone carrys our burdens, it is such a demonstration of love and we feel such gratitude and freedom for it. So in some spiritual, emotional and maybe sometimes physical sense this verse is suppose to relieve us as it becomes a reality. This verse says that is what he does. Do I have an exact explanation of what that means or feels like? No. But I bet you he longs to demonstrate that to each of us and to ask him to show us personally what that means and should be like for us.

Also, as far as what our little family is going through personally with trials, it is actually a pure waste sometimes how much we talk about things and resist "letting them go" or relinquishing them through prayer. Sometimes we can talk and talk and just circle like vultures but after some time (well maybe after 20 minutes!) we just are kind of over indulging. We're idolizing. Something we say we don't like we find ourselves obsessing over and it doesn't make sense. We're eating our broccoli (or whatever food you don't like). Then another helping. Then another. Then another. And soon we're stuffed with broccoli and want to throw up. (I happen to like broccoli but Jason would definitely be the one throwing up after one bite in this! He he).

So Jason and I's resolve and conviction lately is this: To pray. To not think too much of our chatterboxing that we can solve everything by talking or dialouging or counseling till our brains bleed. We need to encourage more by praying more. And figure things out more by praying more. And in this not only am I putting the burden back where it needs to be (on Jesus' shoulders) but I am letting my heart be transformed to the place it needs to be at the same time. So much happens in prayer. Aligning our heart with God. Talking it out with him. Giving up. Taking on the right heart. Letting him speak. Understanding. Growing. Confessing. Thankfulness for gospel. Trusting. Loving. Being loved. Letting gooooooo.

Less broccoli servings. More praying. Meal done.

She Speaks: My Thing

I've been a little silly on my evening outings with friends lately. Put my kids in bed and get me in a room full of women and I get a little naturally tipsy, no alcohol necessary.

Most recently I was out for an evening baby shower for a lovely, glowing pregnant friend of mine. The beauty who hosted it loves to paint and as I went from living room to kitchen to bedroom, she had wall after wall decorated with her own paintings. That was definitely her "thing." Painting. I thought it was sweet how she could make her whole home beautiful by her very own hand. I went over at some point to grab an appetizer and was admiring all the cooking another friend had done to make the night special. I was scared to pick them up they were so cutely done. In fact, I did end up dropping one as I picked it up too timidly. *Sigh*. Cooking is definitely her thing and thankfully she's moving in with me for five weeks soon ;). You know who you are. Anyhow, above each little treat on the table was a cute little tag with a description of the food underneath a personalized design for the shower. My friend who made them would like to do designs for every aspect of parties like this, from tags to invites to thank you notes. She's good at it and it is quickly becoming her "thing".

So you see a little pattern forming, right? I got to joking with some of my friends at the party, as I admired all the handiwork. And even as we joked, I realized every single person I was talking with that night had a noteworthy signature "thing" that everyone knows they are good at. Personal training, sewing, photography, homemaking, you name it. My silliness at this point all became directed at how hilarious I found it to be that literally everyone's "thing" was obvious except for mine. Especially as shower gift after shower gift unveiled more gifts and talents of each woman in the room. (My gift incidentally was $ towards the group gift). Thankfully, with a lot of sarcastism, I enjoyed letting my jaw drop each time, each "thing" topping the next in awe and excellence.

When in laughter I pressed my friends for what could possibly be my "thing", they finally declared one for me. Scrapbooking. NO. That is stupid. Okay then, Legacy. "Legacy?" you ask. I asked too. Because I like do things that point to legacy - scrapbook, take pictures, journal, teach, write, and create traditions and memories for our family. In and of themselves, these things are not "wow" and unique but altogether they are certainly an expression of the deepest places in me. I haven't been able to dismiss this label since then and Jason confirmed it as well when I got home.

So there it is! I have a "thing"!

Today I was trying to figure out what it is that got to me, underneath all of the joking around about it all. I mean, it was funny. But also there was a heart issue going on in me. I do want my life to be special. I want to stand out and do big and wonderful and noteworthy and awe inspiring things. But is this okay? What's that all about anyway? Isn't that me trying to "find" life when the Bible says that whoever wants to find life must lose it? This means that I have to let go of all I'm wanting in order to find what true life looks like in the eyes of God. I think even Christians, for sure, get very much caught up in being on top, in doing big incredible things and we order and arrange and elevate what we think is GREAT. We all want to be great.

There's a story in Matthew 20 where the mother of two of the disciples comes up to Jesus and basically wants to know if they will be greatest in heaven. Reading it, I'm sure we're all like, Geez. That was bold...and ridiculous. I can't believe she asked that. But basically she's saying, Hey my sons are great right? And I think we all kind of want other people and also Jesus to say that about us.

I mean, when I am jealous that other people have "things" or envy that they do xyz amazingly, I am that mother of the sons of Zebedee coming up to Jesus saying, Hey can you make say that I'm the greatest one?

But here's how amazing Jesus is. Check out his thoughts a few verses later in Matt 20:25-28 "But Jesus called them to him and said, 'You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. IT SHALL NOT BE SO AMONG YOU. BUT WHOEVER WOULD BE GREAT AMONG YOU MUST BE YOUR SERVANT, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of Man not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many."

Wooow. I was randomly letting my mind wander around today and thought 'hey i might write about the whole "my thing" idea i was thinking about at the shower' and then i sat down to read the Bible and journal and was reminded of this Scripture and it just all came together. This is what Jesus has to say about greatness.

Do I want to be great? Do I want to be first? Then although it sounds wildly crazy and impossibly ridiculous...the way to greatness is humilty and laying down my life to be THE LEAST OF THESE. Jesus, you defy everything I know in this world. You are so OTHER that I barely know how to wrap my mind around your truth, though when I encounter it like this, my Spirit declares THIS IS SO TRUE AND I AM IN AWE.

To me, Jesus declares "Be not jealous. Do not seek to be above. To compete. To top. Lay down your life, becoming the least of these. Serve. Become a slave for the benefit of others. And this will be your greatness."

My mind is blowing. And yet my Spirit is rejoicing and soaring. With or without a "thing", I run in the path of your truths for you have set my heart free.

Mrs. Speaks "My Mud Pit"

I think i generally avoid books on marriage.

I'm not proud of this. I mean, I've got a ring on my finger, I love my husband, and I want to grow with him over time. It's just that the thought of opening one of them feels ho hum. However, my mother in law recently bought a bunch of copies of a great one she is reading and gave me one. It's called Sacred Marriage. And I'm realizing it's been a little too long since I've been counseled on marriage. My accountability group would certainly concur that this does not mean that I haven't been wrestling like a contestant on survivor in the mud pits over worthy battles in my marriage though. My relationship with Jason is constantly on the forefront of my mind and the Holy Spirit won't let me wrestle free from his refinement for me in this sin area. So it's funny that I've avoided certain written counsel over it.

So the question I'm putting on the table today is something I've been chewing on the first three chapters:

Isn't it ridiculous to look for something in humans that only God can provide?

This is the constant shove I feel from the Holy Spirit on my heart concerning Jason. I have a feeling that my writing on seeing Jason as an idol in my life - so much more than what to expect from a husband - will be a topic on my blog for a long time. Not because I am not dealing with it, but because it's actually the biggest root I have ever had to weed out of my life by the power of Jesus in me. My decisions, my reactions, my hurt feelings, my pursuits, my love withheld, my expressions, and my sighs all say:

I am in this to benefit from you.
I am in this to experience a perfect relationship with you.
I am in this to be served by you.
I believe I can find fulfillment from you.

Does this ring a bell, wives? Or maybe you just read that and go, "Wo, she's got issues." That's fine. I think I do ;) But I bet some of you do too. And if you don't, keep reading so you can understand your friends' hearts who struggles like me.

The headline under the title of this book says, "What if God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy?" True. But I've heard that statement so many times it's kind of bug to read it again. I have this super judgmental place in me that hears something like that and immediately my inner eyes begin rolling and tisking. But as I read the first three chapters the Holy Spirit began to unravel my irritation and started pouring grace in my hands for this probably over used Christian chatter. I heard, It IS true. So let it be true and don't let your heart be seared from it just because it has been said a thousand times.

So I kept reading. And the discussion behind that statement ministered more and more to me. The main thesis is this: "...we use our marriage to explore God. If we are consumed with highlighting where our spouses are falling short, we will miss the divine mysteries of marriage and the lessons it has to teach us." There are two main ways to view marriage - as a way to be fulfilled by that person (happiness) or as a relationship which God can use to show us about Him no matter what amount of benefit it brings to us (holiness). Our relationship with God will outlive our marriage and will carry into eternity, so therefore that earthly relationship is what this author would call the "penultimate rather than the ultimate reality." The "end" is to get to God as we enjoy, struggle with, pursue this earthly companionship.

There was a section that talked about in earlier church history there was seemingly an unofficial stance that married Christians were a sort of second class Christians who had comprimised integrity, as opposed to nuns and monks. "Most of the Christian classics were written by monks and nuns for monks and nuns. The married could at best feebly try to simulate a single pursuit of God; the thought of pursuing God through marriage wasn't really given serious consideration; instead, the emphasis was largely on pursuing God in spite of marriage."

I was so surprised to read this because prior to marriage I thought I was actually pretty great and since marriage the Lord has done nothing but reveal more and more layers of who I really am apart from him. The author goes on to say:

"If you want to be free to SERVE Jesus, there's no question - stay single. Marriage takes a lot of time. But if you want to become LIKE Jesus, I can't imagine a better thing to do than get married."

My goodness. Amen to that. Although I certainly would give myself no credit for being like Jesus since unlike Paula Abdul, all it seems like I do is take continual three steps back, I can feel in my core that at least I am learning the truth about myself. And anything good happening out of that truth is the Holy Spirit claiming ground.

I am learning to see marriage like this. But I've gotta tell you, it's not like a sweet little Bible study early in the morning light with a cute coffee mug and happy Christian music blistfully playing as I close my eyes and my spirit soars with Jesus. (Well, the coffee part is usually true). It's more like a tug of war and every morning I get tears in my clothing. I read these chapters, underline, agree in Spirit, and then ten minutes later I'm selfish, annoyed, grasping, irritable and crying out from the fountain in my heart, "It's about me!!!" Ah. Sin nature. So lovely!

Thank goodness for grace: God's unlimited unconditional patience for this looong journey of learning the humility of being like Jesus. Jesus does with me exactly what I begrudgingly withhold from my marriage - he covers me in grace, keeps loving me, keeps pursuing me, and never gives up hope for what he wants to see in me. Jesus you are teaching me who to be. How is your love so great?

And Jason, my love, I'm meditating, I'm thinking, I'm praying, I'm constantly relinquishing these over the top expectations rising up in me and if Jesus Christ is who we believe he is, this WILL get rooted out. Keep believing in Him in me. Join in that tug of war on behalf of me. I love you.

She Speaks

I'm changing up my blog a little bit because I find myself thinking, living, experiencing, learning, and being transformed in four different categories of my life all wrapped up into Kelly Chandler Cowan. I'm a 31 year old woman, who feels girlishly young enough to still be grasping at what that word means as I gain years on my age. I'm a wife of eight years who has walked with a faithful husband through a move across country, job changes, babies, constant decisions, and a never ending journey gifted by the Holy Spirit for us to refine one another for His glory. I'm a mama of three who's finally enjoying that crown on my head. And I'm a believer in Jesus' testimony to be God who came down to us in all humility and grace to save us from ourselves and to show me how to live like he did. Woman, wife, mama, believer. I generally find myself living, moving, and having my being in each of these four pieces of me. And I see that I write out of these parts of me as well. So I think for a while when I post, I will speak from the viewpoint of woman, wife, mama and believer as you continue to track with me as I meditate on this life gifted to me.

Starfish

I hate to wake up early in the morning. It must have been the thought of being alone on an adventure while all the little ones slept soundly that got me up and going. It might have been the empty streets, filled with a slightly hazy, humid air with the light just starting to think about breaking it into a clear day. Or maybe all those shots I had already put a box around in my mind and wanted to bring into reality onto my photo card. For all of these and more I nearly bounced out of bed with quiet cat like feet, into my black stretch pants, a tank, and some tennis shoes to take off for a early morning photography adventure.

I closed my door and started the Honda, wishing I could have put a sound buffer even on those noises, wincing a little with a glance in my rearview at the windows at the condo above. It was 6:45am and Kanah, Grace, and Salem would probably rest another hour if not interrupted. It would be best for me mentally if they were asleep while I was gone, so I didn’t have to think about what mothering roles might need doing. I stopped quickly at the little market and got a coffee with creamer and dashed back to my car to be on my way. Even just being in a Honda Accord brought me all kinds of nostalgic happy feelings that my husband would laugh at me for having. Given a “would you rather” car scenario I would take an Accord over any of his Road and Track indulgences any day ;).

My mind quickly scanned through all the images in my mind I had preserved as stopping points for my drive. I tried the highway bridge first but chickened out when I realized there was not a very safely designed pedestrian walkway. Every time we crest this bridge, which links the mainland to the beach islands and crosses over breathtaking green grassed marshes, I breathe in the delights of east coast beach vacationing and instantly feel happy. I have always wanted to stop at this point and capture it. Hit with that small defeat, I wondered if this was all a bust or if I was cut out for photo adventures. But looking towards Sullivans Island I picked up my pace again and soon found myself wandering along the marshes, practicing changing my f stop to make either the foreground or backgrounds blurry. I had a series of obsessive shots of the lock straight docks that lead over probably a hundred yards of marshy grassy land before ending with a drop into the canal. I was back in a stride and forgot my disappointment completely.

Feeling satisfied, I stopped next on the small neighborly bridge to Sullivans, enjoying cropping the swerves of the coastal surf below and capturing the rising light hitting only certain parts of the picture. I was patient, wishing away little details from my mental box, like runners and frolicking dogs and the like. I began to wish to be down on that quiet beach, so I drove into the adjacent neighborhood and cruised slowly, passing alluring double decked screened in porches with whirling ceiling fans and rows of rockers. Palm trees and twisted oaks leaned and craddled the shapes of the homes. As my eyes took in each dwelling with a curious joy, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been off on a journey like this one. Searching for a pathway to the beach and enjoying each moment along the way felt like a freshness I had missed from years ago. I finally saw a sandy walkway, drove up closer to make sure it was for the public, and parked my car next to a house where a lady with curlers sat staring at me from her porch chair. I felt slightly intrusive and brave all at once and parked my car to sneak through the dunes.

I walked through what felt like my very own “wardrobe” through the dunes and landed on a very desolate area of beach. Even at 7am, the heat hit me hard and I wished for a rubberband, but quickly decided to not care, as the beauty and isolation welcomed me for my little adventure.

I developed a small obsession right away for the orange colored seaweed clusters that had lined themselves up along the beach, probably from that morning’s high tide. Like from the hands of flower girls down an aisle, they lay dropped one after the other as far as I could see. Crouching and lining up my lines right and searching for new angles, I felt so free to enjoy capturing. I am truly a Capturer. It sounds like such a princess word or something, but I find utter DELIGHT in capturing expressions and beauty and moments and scenes that make my heart flutter and click with connection. It was a moment like that as I stood under the dunes and walked along the seaweed and peered out at shrimp boats and let my eyes measure the almost silly enormity of the southern style pillered and multi-porched beach front homes.

I let my tennis shoes get wet as I got closer and I found myself begin to pray outloud. Praying outloud might possibly be the most therapeutic and joyous and comforting and revelational thing I do, whether around my kitchen or there in that perfectly isolated spot. I talked to Jesus about my marriage, my heart, my kids. I felt very small. I felt humbled. I felt keenly aware of my faults and my tendencies for making big emotional and relational messes. We talked about all of that as my treads went along, sticking lightly to the muddy sand beneath fingernail deep waters. It didn’t matter how heavy the sentence that flowed off my lips. As soon as it was spoken it seemed to feel lighter and seemed to return to me from the Lord in grace, in an undeserved word of hope.

And then there were the starfish. They were alive. I found one, then another, then another. When I came upon the first one, my heart stopped and I crouched down above it. I thought it might be dead and then as I waited I saw that it was moving with an ever persistent, yet seemingly still pace back towards the ocean, which was reaching its long arms from stretching and thinned out waves only a few feet away. Then the starfish reached up one of its legs, curling it up into the air with slow control, like a graceful dancer, and I decided to help it. I picked it up and it began to curl itself backwards over my hand, and fighting my every urge in my creeped out being, I set about tossing it as far as I was able back into the waves. And then I did the same with the next and the next.

And about that time the Spirit inside of me seemed to speak about those starfish. See how they are on the edge of this ocean. Alive and crawling ever so slowly towards something great. And they are creations, given life and strength and everything they need to live and move and have their being by their Creator God. And God made it so that they could enjoy this big and beautiful ocean, far bigger and greater than they. And they are crawling. And I felt myself realizing that I am crawling with God. The things I had prayed about myself and who I am felt so heavy leaving my lips, like I had prayed these things about change a hundred million times. And to see all of those little legs on the bottom of that starfish moving ever so slowly and beautifully towards that great ocean felt like my walk with God every single day. And that’s what it’s supposed to be. I wish for God to pick me up and toss me into his greatness, that would be a lot easier. But he gave me these little legs to make little strides, with him, by his strength each and every day and to seek his vast greatness and glory before me.

I stood facing the ocean, thankful for the starfish. For our talk. For the picture of myself that gave me peace about what to do with where I am and who I am. I knew my adventure was felt complete that morning. With all I had taken in and discovered and enjoyed, it was there looking at those starfish that I myself felt captured up. God found me there and I let him show me what he saw about me. And I believed him. With that peace, I knew I could go away from this morning journey and get back to my life, crawling and inch towards my big and great God and enjoying the many more adventures he has planned for me.