How Words Matter

There is something holy and powerful about words.

I wonder about God and Jesus and the fact that He is the Word. The Word in living flesh is Jesus. A person. God.

The Word.

There is something scary and powerful when it comes to words.

Words are things to be weighed. Thought through. Sifted. Held.

A few months ago I got a typewriter. A gift from my husband: an old IBM Selectric. It has since broken {we need to figure out how to fix the vintage machinations} but when it sat on my dining room table, near the windows with it’s own chair, I was often tempted to steal a piece of paper from the printer in the guest room, to roll it down at the back, make it square with the side and begin to type.

It took me a few days to get used to the analog-ness of the keys. I made mistakes and striked-through many a C that should have been a D. There are few do-overs on typewriters. Aside from white out {who wants to wait that long} and correction tape, typewriters make us think before we pound out a flippant word.

I wrote a couple letters on the typewriter. A note of thanks to my husband. My seven year old tap tap tapped out a few sentences, mostly her name N-A-O-M-I-G-R-A-C-E-M-A-R-K-L-E-Y. So proud of herself, she sat back and looked at the magic at her fingertips.

She tried so hard to make those letters count. Bent over the keys, she was so happy at her accomplishment. Each word was a mountain to climb and every mistake was monstrous.

There is so much more permanence to words than we give them credit.

Sitting around with family and friends over the weekend we talked about the times someone commented on our weight gains or acne or teenage awkwardness over the years. Of five adults, every single one of us remembered something significant. Something horrible. Something funny. Something that wounded and took on a life of it’s own 30 years later.

Words are full of power.

Words inch us together over long divides. Words knit together hearts that have been broken over seventeen years. Words reach down deep and save.

Words whispered, written, spoken to our people, the ones who are the closest {our partners especially}. These ones need to hear these permanent words.

And what can be more holy than the words I-Love-You.

My Arthritic Heart

My girls. It seems as if they are growing even as I look across the breakfast table at them.

Their bones stretch and they seem to get taller and taller every time they emerge from their room with rubbing-eyes and hair that’s been knotted overnight by their pillows.

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They are stretching and growing and moving and sometimes I just want it to slow down. I get a panicky feeling when I think that it will all be over so soon. That in a blink it’s done.

It’s done.

Here are these children who need me less and less and who will I be when I’m not needed? Here are these children under my roof for only a few more years and they are turning into women right in front of me.

But then I wonder that as their bones stretch and hands lengthen into the hands of teenagers, will I be able to grow into the mother they need? Because at this point, I don’t even feel equipped to mother an eleven year old and a seven year old.

It’s easy for kids to grow. It’s who they are. They are born growing. But me? It’s hard for me to adapt and change and growing for me isn’t natural.  Not at all. It feels like I’m cracking and arthritic as I try to stretch to meet the needs of a family who is all growing older.

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And it’s not just their bodies that grow. It’s their hearts and minds and spirits. And all of a sudden when they ask the big questions, they really expect a big answer. Or at least one that makes an ounce of sense. And most of the time I really don’t know the answer.

{I’m learning to say, “I’m working through that one too.”}

So will I be able to stretch my stiff heart into the elastic heart that my children need? I hope so.

I’ll have to rely on them a bit, I think, to show me the way. I’ll take their lead: to grow when they grow, stretch when they do and move with grace as they are learning to do so beautifully.

 How are you being stretched right now?

God is Good All the Time

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I’m learning that God is good all the time. I’m learning that God is good even in a desert. I’m learning that the power of waiting on him and learning what that actually means. I’m learning about God is true even when I don’t see Him or feel Him. My understanding of it doesn’t change [...]

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For When There Are No Words

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For the days when there is nothing to say except, “Make sure you stir the brownie batter just the right amount,” For the days when your wisdom has flown and all that you really want to do is curl up with your Instagram feed, For the days when you can’t type one more word for [...]

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I’m Your Biggest Fan

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There is nothing more life-giving than when someone truly believes in you. Not the clichéd slap-on-the-back “I believe in you.” No, not that. It’s the I-got-your-back, you-can-do-this, I’m-amazed-by-you super-fan that only your  closest people have the power to be to you. I can sit across the out-to-breakfast table with a friend and say, “Girl, you [...]

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Speaking Up for Grace

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This post is one of several you will see around the internet in coming months about a unique gathering of believers in Austin, TX this September called The Idea Camp. I’ll be there. I’d love for you to join me. I’ll be honest I feel so inadequate. I’m no Chris Marlow, and I’m no Lindsey [...]

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This is Revival

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I’m up on Deeper Church today. Wanna come visit? This is Revival Revival was the thing whispered when I sat in pews as little girl. When we prayed for God to return to the land, to our schools, to the US of A {as if he’d abandoned us already} we asked for revival. Revival was the [...]

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What is Right and What is Right

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“Mama, don’t you want to be with me?” I kissed her still-babyish cheek and fixed the pillows behind her head. “Of course I want to be with you, but Mommy and Daddy need some time by ourselves for a few days.” She began to cry. “If you wanted to be with me you wouldn’t go [...]

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Confessions of a Secret Perfectionist

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I’m up on (in)courage today with a confession. I’d love for you to join me over there. Confessions of a Secret Perfectionist I’ve never been a “house” perfectionist, so to speak. I usually have piles of mail on my counters and a dish full of to-be-washed dishes. But I’ve been a eating and fitness perfectionist. I’m [...]

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We Die Without Each Other

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I had a rough start to my week: Our car got broken into on Monday and we found out some distressing news in another area of life. Mondays basically suck. And as I was crying at my kitchen table on Monday afternoon, I thought about the importance of the women in my life who love [...]

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