I wonder where he gets it?!

There are days when I wish someone would push a camera in my face all day long ... just so I could see if he gets this from me or if it's just a God-given gift to have 362 different expressions in a matter of hours.

I think it's a God-given gift.

And I wouldn't trade my 5-year old {gift} for anything ...

or my 8-year old gift either.

Expressions make a person awesome.  

So don't waste a minute ... go be awesome.

enough.

I know it's silly, but I often wonder if I'm enough.

I think we all do.

Am I doing enough?  Am I saving enough?  Am I resting enough?  Am I playing enough?  Am I encouraging enough?  Am I praying enough?  Am I enough?

I wonder & I fret, and I wonder some more ... and then I look up.

And I see the sky, and the clouds, and the beauty in all that is surrounding me & I remember.

It's not about me being enough or doing enough.

It's not about me at all.

It's really not even about my boys or my husband, or my mom or dad, or even my best friends being enough.

Nope.

It's about trusting in the One who is {enough} - in the light ... and in the dark.

The One who gives strength the weary & hope to the hopeless.

The One who loves the unlovely & clothes them with righteousness.

The One who protects and sings over us.

We had a bit of snow that was just enough at the end of December. It was enough to get the sleds out.  It was enough to build a snowman.  It was enough to remember that even when what you have doesn't seem like it's much - it's always enough.

It was enough to get us outside.  It was enough to slip and slide on.  It was enough to remind us of the beauty a skiff of snow can create.  It was enough.

And so tonight, as I find myself wondering if what I'm doing & who I am is enough again for the 589th time ... I'm going to remember this day in December of 2012 when it didn't seem like there was going to be enough, but there really was more than enough.

More than enough of the One who gives us just enough.

And that is enough.

I surrender.

There are NERF bullets of every size and shape at my house.

Under couches, chairs, tables.

On top of shelves, stuck to the window, and even broken in two.

Bullets that I tend to curse, but bullets I need to see.

Bullets that have the fingerprints of God all over them.

Bullets that are brightly colored for a reason.

My boys love their guns, but without bullets, they're useless.  {sort of}

I've been collecting stray bullets in a giant jar.  Every bullet I find goes in the jar, and 25 cents has to be paid to get a bullet out.  This is not a popular scenario right now, but it is teaching all of us a bit about surrender.

Surrender - because without a bullet ...

• It's giving up control.
• It's yielding to a power higher than yourself.
• It's agreeing to stop.
• It's handing over, laying down, turning in.

And it's not something we're good at around here.

We love to make the decisions.

We love to be right.

We don't enjoy voluntarily giving up anything.

We don't like to feel powerless.

We - being all {4} of us.

But so much of who we are has to do with surrender.  More than we could ever imagine.

If we want to truly be fee, we have to understand that this life we think we're in control of really isn't ours.  And the more I think about it, the more I realize that for surrender to be grasped, it has to be modeled.

How can I expect my boys to give up that which they love so very much, when I'm not giving up anything visible to them that I love?

How can I expect them to smile, when the person they're looking at isn't smiling back?

How can I expect {surrender}?

This is a new year.  And each day is full of choices.  Choices and chances to say {I trust in You}even if I don't understand. Opportunities to whisper or even shout:  I surrender.  Because with your hands raised high in complete submission, there is nothing left for you to control, but a whole lot for you to follow.

Surrender is something that has to be modeled, and it has been.  Jesus paved the way, and although it appeared He lost everything, He really gained it all.  And not just for Himself, but for all.

His death, His surrender, His recognition of that which He was called to do is the lead we should be mimicking.  His dance steps, His gracefulness, His humbleness - surrendering all.

...................................

I'm going to keep collecting bullets, and I'm going to keep surrendering - daily.  And hopefully my boys are going to see something different.  Not a mean mom that takes everything away, but a mom that gives purpose to the tiniest of things.
A mom that models surrender by leaking {grace} and {mercy} ... and a lot of {love} too.

My hands are up.

I'm hungry and thirsty for more than what I think I can do for myself.

And I want to know, and feel, and live the freedom that can only be found in the realization that I don't have to control everything to truly have everything.

Are your hands up?

They should be.

why do you follow us?

We don't spend much time inside.

Not much time at all.

Even when it's cold, we're outside. Outside, living.

Trying to figure out ways to stay warm, entertained, and smiling.

We run, we push, and we lead the way home - that place where you know you're meant to be.

And we're followed.

Not just by cows, but by people too.

I think they follow us for the same reasons really.

Reasons that we may never fully understand, but reasons that seem to draw the best out of those who follow.

It's as simple as this:  following a life that is shared is a life worth following.

Willingly, openly, and freely shared.

Ordinary to us, extraordinary to others.

Simple to us, supernatural to others.

Head turning, eye-raising, and definitely worth your attention.

Not because of our name, our status, our height & weight, our circle of friends, our bank account, or our stuff, but because we are sharing real, authentic, genuine life with you. Not perfect, but real and true.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

It's got Jesus written all over it ... & I pray with all that I am {and all He's made me to be} that it isn't a show you're following ... it's a life, a story, and maybe even a chapter book that always keeps you coming back for more.

Not more of us, but more of Him.

Because this really is His story.

learning to dance.

Dear friend, co-worker, relative, and perhaps even stranger,

I'm going to let you in on a little secret - which in all reality probably isn't a secret at all.

I can't dance.

I never took ballet, jazz or hip-hop ... and as hard as I tried, I could never quite get the hang of the country swing.

36 years later & I still fumble my way around the dance floor.  {some of you are nodding your heads in agreement right now ... and I'm good with that}

Cartwheels were something I watched others do with ease, while envying their graceful and seemingly effortless attempts to land a flip on the trampoline.

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun was not me, but oh how I wished it was.

I was {and still kind of am} a wall-flower when it comes to letting loose and moving with the music. Oh how I wish I wasn't.

................

How can someone be so "natural" about knowing how to have fun, striking up quality conversations with just about anyone, telling stories, teaching school, journal writing, folding laundry, laughing out loud, and even swinging a golf club, but absolutely  horrible at dancing?

Maybe it's because it requires letting someone else lead, and trusting they're going to take you where you need to be.

Or perhaps it's got something to do with going with the flow of the music by actually listening to the music and not just hearing the noise.

Right now, life is a whole bunch of noise.

It's status updates. It's Pinterest. It's reality TV. It's comparing and contrasting what others have that you think you should have too.  It's not clear.  It's an ISO of 3200.  It's payment due dates in bold.  It's a messy kitchen.  It's unmade beds.  And in my world, it's being afraid to dance.

Afraid to look foolish.  Afraid to trip and fall.  Afraid to follow someone else's lead.  Afraid of saying the wrong thing.  Afraid of being misunderstood.  Afraid.

............................

This sounds a lot like my post the year I embraced the word "fearless" ... and in some ways, the two are related, but more than anything, in 2013, I want people to see me dance.

Not on a stage, not at the local bar, and not even at a wedding necessarily.

I want a stranger to see me dance with my kids across the parking lot at Wal-Mart.  I want my principal to catch a dance party  in action first thing in the morning.  I want my neighbor to watch Ian & I swinging our way around the driveway in the rain we've prayed would finally arrive.  I want my two little boys to know that their mama likes to dance.

Dancing isn't about having all the right moves and each of the counts.

Dancing is about living.

Dancing is going to be about being carefree, full of joy, footloose and fancy free in my words, in my actions, in my relationships, and in my journey with Jesus.

Dancing is going to be hearing the music of life and living it gracefully.

This word, this time of growth, this journey ... it's going to be about listening to the rhythm, feeling the beat, and choosing to grab hold of the Grip that will never let go.

....................

I know I'm going trip and fall at least once during the next 365 days, but I also know that His Grip on my life will keep me moving forward ... one step, one twist, one turn at a time... again, and again - day after day.

So as a new year finds it way into my home, my life, and my heart & soul, I'm going to pray it's full of the best kind of dance music - music that turns sorrow into joy & brings life in abundance.

~ Lindsay

By the way, did you know that you don't have to be a natural to be good at something?

True fact.

I'm going to be living proof.