A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes...

I think I have successfully erased the majority of my memories from middle school. I usually complain about my permanent loss of brain cells during pregnancy, but when regarding the years of 5th grade through 7th grade, I am forever grateful to the miracle of forgetfulness. I was usually one of the first kids on the bus in the morning, which meant sharing a long ride with kids that didn't particularly like me (and let's be honest, I didn't like them either.) But, bus rides had a funny way of bringing 'not usually' friends together, just to stay entertained during the bumpy ride. The kids on my bus liked to play MASH.

Mansion. Apartment. Shack. House. A game where you hoped the odds were ever in your favor as your fate was determined by someone who didn't care if you lived in a shack someday with Pauly Shore, had 18 kids and worked in a toll booth. But everyone DID care... when it was their turn... hoping to be paired up with the cutest guy on the list of possible husbands (JTT was a fave) and hoping that guy was a rich lawyer and lived in a mansion. Even as a middle schooler, ideals and standards had been set in our minds as to what the perfect "dream" life would look like when we were older. And a scribbled game on a torn piece of notebook paper was the preteen tarot card of our future.

Now, I absolutely adore Disney movies. But the story of Cinderella really set our young, impressionable hearts up for disappointment. I would have LOVED a fairy godmother to swoop down, hours before my sophomore semi-formal and turn my short-sleeved brown - yes, BROWN - dress into a shimmering, head-turning beauty. Let's face it, every little girl wants to grow up to marry a prince and live in a castle. It's the ultimate fantasy. Fantasy.

I'd had different ideas of what my future would look like. By the time I was a college student, I knew a couple of things for sure. I wanted to be married. Soon. Like the day after I graduated. It just made sense. I also knew that I wanted to have kids, probably four or five and really hoping for a set of twins. I wanted to be a working mom, and actually, I think 'saving the world' may have been on my list of tasks to conquer. Dreams for me have always been BIG. Go big or go home. Oh, how God must have looked down on me and laughed at me when I said that. "Go big? You think that's big?" He'd ask. I can just picture Him laughing, saying, "Ok. We'll go big." And I had no clue.

I think I often get stuck in 'dream' mode. I see the end result and I want to get there so bad. My dreams are perfect - I am in control of them and they always turn out exactly how they should be. The odds are always in my favor. But here's the thing with my dreams - the parts where I have to work really hard to get to the 'dream', the parts where obstacles arise and new plans need to be made in order to overcome them, the parts where the characters and circumstances change... all those get left out of my thought process. That's because a dream isn't just a dream. It's a journey. And a journey isn't something we can plan out. It's an unknown adventure. And as much as I desire to arrive where I set out to be, I will never get there if my dream doesn't line up with God's vision for me.

In Psalm 20:4 David presents this prayer, "May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed." There were so many times I prayed for God to give me what I wanted. A better job. A different boss. Friends in new places. Healthy babies. A bigger house. More time. Patience. Smaller stretch marks during my second pregnancy (I really should have prayed for NO stretch marks the first time around, kicking myself for that one!) So often my prayers were centered around me - my plans - what I thought would be the best thing for ME. As my faith and relationship with Jesus deepened over the past few years, I came to understand that Scripture in the Psalms differently. Instead of asking God to give me what I want - I have begun to ask Him to make the desires of my heart like His.

I don't have the best track record in knowing what is best for me. Plenty of times I have said "no" to God - whatever He was asking me to do just did not fit into my dreamy vision. And as many times as I have said no, God has come back with a big fat YES and proven me ever so wrong about what I thought I wanted.

Thirty-two years old, married to a farmer, two kids in tow, living in a house owned by my husband's grandmother, in a small town with no Starbucks or Anthropologie... Had I had this glimpse of my life five years ago, I would have been singing the Sesame Street song, "Which one of these things doesn't belong here?" But I know now what I didn't know then, and that is the journey I took to get here. And I wouldn't change a thing.

I am much different than I was five years ago. Though there have been some hardships, disappointments, and BIG changes to MY plans, my life's journey that God has allowed me to experience has taken me all over the world, meeting some incredible people. He has allowed me opportunities to use my gifts and talents in ways I never would have been able to create for myself. The Lord has blessed me and my family in unimaginable ways. And I am proud of the hard work my husband and I have put into creating this dream life for our family. It's no easy task raising two little boys (twins, what was I thinking?!?) and there are many days that I dream of a bigger linen closet where our sheets, blankets and towels can each have their own shelves. But, I am learning to appreciate and anticipate the journey, more than dwelling on the end result.

This past week, the Lord gave our family a big leap forward towards our dream of building our own house. We closed on a nice little chunk of land out in the country. A creek with a line of trees borders one end of the property, and there is the most perfect sledding hill with a lovely narrow valley nestled in between. Our dream home will sit perched on top of the hill, surveying the lush green acres below. It is going to be hard work - cleaning up the land, tearing down barbed wire fences, excavating the ground, and of course all that goes into building a house - but when I remind myself of Galatians 6:9, "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up," I recall God's promise to me, His plans to prosper me with a bountiful harvest.

I am excited about this life that God has blessed me with. Though I had always pictured something different, God wanted to go bigger. And although I haven't saved the world yet, nor do I even aspire to do such a thing (I've learned my limits), its moments when my two and four year olds climb into my lap and tell me they love me, and I feel like a superhero. I am so thankful to serve a God who knows me better than I know myself.

Tonight, the boys and I brought some homemade pizza out to Eric who was tearing down some old fencing and rotten tree stumps on the new property. We set up a little dinner table amidst the alfalfa and ate as a family, in a spot that will hopefully someday be an actual dining room in an actual house. Cinderella can have her castle. I'm loving every bit of this BIG dream that God created for me... and I'm along for the long haul.

 

 

 

 

 

Puttin' Up Your Dukes

It was the most physically exhausting season of my life. I was doing 8 mile runs with hills and Indian sprints in the middle of them. Hours of calisthenics, intense workouts, sparring matches... gosh, I could do 200 push ups and hold my own. All I ate was pasta... for four months. I was the only girl I knew who walked the halls of my high school with a huge Nalgene bottle that I had labeled "Life Support." I was training for my black belt.

The training was intense. I didn't have much of a social life. The grades in my honors and AP classes took a hit. But I was determined to achieve the well-respected, honorable status that a black belt in karate would bring me. I worked hard. And victory never tasted sweeter. When I finally tied that belt around my waste, I knew in that moment that all the training was worth it. I had been equipping myself for three and a half years for that one particular moment. And even though my black belt is currently packed away in a box in our crawl space somewhere (not exactly sure where to display it... maybe next to my Willow Tree collection??), the resulting self confidence, attitude of perseverance, and whole-hearted devotion to anything I tackle, has remained embedded in my spirit (as well as the ability to throw a mean right hook, just sayin'.)

Earning my black belt was an intense commitment that required complete devotion. I could not have achieved that status without the proper training. You would never see a white belt spar a black belt. The white belt is just not equipped or physically ready to hold up against someone who has put in the time and work required to achieve and maintain such a high status. Can you imagine if our country didn't train its soldiers before sending them overseas into battle? I have family members who have served overseas, in dangerous places. The amount and degree of military training is extreme for anyone wishing to carry the well-respected title of Marine. Navy. Army. Airforce. I have the utmost respect for these men and women who march into battles - some seen, some unseen - on a daily basis. But the only way I am even ok with this a little, is knowing they are fully equipped for the mission.

We physically train for physical battles. We cram and study for exams in school. We go above and beyond our requirements at work to get the promotion. We put in the time. We equip ourselves. But there is another battle that is raging... one we need to be equipped for as well.

The apostle Paul tells us in Ephesians 6, "Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand."

How do we prepare for a battle we can't see? I struggle with this daily. Screaming kids, dirty dishes, dinner that needs to be made, groceries that need to be purchased, diapers that require changing, doctor appointments, the list goes on and on... When do I find time in all this mess of life to open up my Bible and attempt to hear God's voice? I can't even hear myself think sometimes! I am too tired to get up out of bed in the morning, and too tired before bed in the evening to discipline myself to have a consistent quiet time. But Paul is talking about battle here. And my mess of a life is living proof that this battle exists.

It happened all too quick. This past Friday night I was sitting at the kitchen table. The boys were playing in the living room. My husband, myself and a friend were enjoying the last few savory bites of veggie parmesan when my precious 2 year old, Gabe, fell and smacked the side of his head into the coffee table. The scream was still building in his throat when he placed his hand to his head and a steady stream of blood flowed through his fingers, down his neck, onto his shirt... A not too quick trip to the ER and three stitches later, I was tucking my sweet little boy into bed, praying a prayer of protection over him and his swollen little face. Not more than 16 hours later, my injured baby fell face first off his tricycle. Add a red, scraped up bump on the forehead, a bloody nose and a fat broken lip to his already punctured face. The poor kid looked like he had survived a fight with a pitbull.

As the injuries kept coming, the tension between my husband and I kept building. Who was to blame for this? We couldn't agree on anyone. Then last night happened. It was dinner time again. (Anyone else experience horrific dinner times??) My 4 year old, Jack, decided to get down from the table early. Monkey see, monkey do. Gabe pushed his chair away from the table but the legs of the chair wouldn't budge (probably due to the sticky floor that hasn't been mopped in five months) and the chair tipped back, slamming the back of his head into the door frame that was behind the table.

ENOUGH already!! I felt my emotions building. My anger was directed at God. My child was screaming, yet again, and the whole time I am silently screaming at Him - "Why are you doing this to my sweet angel? Hasn't he had enough this weekend? Give him a break! PLEASE!!!" Then, as my crying baby carried on, my anger overflowed. I scolded my husband (for simply breathing - when things got this bad, it just had to be his fault.) Then I yelled at Jack for getting down from the table. I wasn't standing my ground at all... I was falling apart. I needed someone to blame. Someone to take the heat so I could make sense of what was happening. I stormed out of the house and walked and walked. And then I realized what God was trying to show me in all this.

I wasn't prepared. I wasn't equipped for this moment. My armor was flung off somewhere, tossed in a corner or stashed in a box in the basement. I was wide open, completely vulnerable to an attack.

Accidents happen. Things go wrong in our perfect little lives that we have no control over. And there is always someone waiting for us to screw up, waiting for an accident so he can whisper lies that it is God's fault.. and when we are vulnerable, we believe him.

Training for spiritual battle is tough. But Paul reminds us of what we need to do so that we are prepared. "Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests."

As I read that Scripture this morning, I recalled my black belt training. I was devoted - giving of my body, mind and spirit to accomplishing a goal. Training was essential to getting where I needed to be. So when it comes to spiritual battles - when I am faced with a challenge where I can either choose defeat or victory in Jesus, I need to make sure I am fully prepared for such a fight! The military doesn't hold just one 2 hour training event a week for its recruits in order to prepare them for war. They are mentally, emotionally, and physically training morning, noon and night. Attending church Sunday mornings is vital to my growth as a Christian, critical in the development of my friendships that hold me accountable, and instrumental in giving me opportunities to serve the Lord by using my spiritual gifts. However, if I am to be fully prepared to stand my ground against flaming arrows and whispered lies, I need to extend that Sunday equipping session into week long training. I cannot expect to stay strong against an enemy that wants me dead - with little or no work on my part.

My busy little life that I have created often prevents me from my one on one training sessions with Jesus. He is always available - the ultimate Life Coach. He has won every battle He has ever fought, and will win every battle He fights. And He is CONSTANTLY fighting for me. For you.

Jesus tells us in John 16, "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." I find such peace knowing that Jesus has already overcome every battle I will ever face. I just want to make sure that I am standing in victory with Him.

Busyness isn't an option anymore. If I am going to win these battles - getting into His Word DAILY is the only thing that is going to protect me from an ever present enemy. When things get rough, I want to have the knowledge and strength to turn to God for help. I want to be able to have teachable moments with my children - raising them up in the Word so that they know who to turn to when life hands them lemons. I want to be able to turn to my husband and pray with him when we hit our breaking point... not the alternative of exploding and regretting later.

I love what my Zondervan NIV study Bible says about the belt of truth. The belt of truth is symbolic for the clothing of the Messiah. Just like Jesus, character wins the battle, not brute force.

What flaming arrows have been pointed straight at you lately? I think its time we put up our dukes... we are in for the fight of our lives.

We'll be ready for next time!

The Gardener

My husband, Eric, and I moved from Memphis to Denver three weeks after we were married. The draw - sprawling mountains with the promise of endless adventures. For the first six months of our lives together, we lived in a tiny, 500 square foot apartment with barely enough room to have a decent argument (like the one that happened after Eric walked in the door just having purchased a $200 pair of ski boots and a $50 pair of ski goggles for himself... with our wedding gift money.) Desperate for more space, we immediately began the building process for our new home.

Seven months after tying the knot, Eric and I became homeowners and parents to an adorable six week old yellow lab - all in one day. I had heard the same advice from about 87 people on our wedding day - "Buy a couple of plants first. If they are alive a year later, then buy a dog. If the dog is alive a year later, then you are ready to have kids." As I lay in bed the first night in our shiny new home, listening to the crying pup downstairs, I had a pang of fear and turned to Eric in panic - "I forgot to buy plants! We don't have any plants! What if I'm no good at this? Our dog is going to DIE!" Within several days, I had three beautiful, healthy green plants in decorative Crate & Barrel pottery, carefully placed in the sunniest rooms in the house. Two of the plants were dead within a few months.

My middle name is not Green Thumb. Eric and I have lived in several homes since our first house and I have only managed to keep about 10% of any plant I have planted (inside or out) alive. I haven't had a potted plant in my house in years. So when we got settled into our new rural home amongst the most fruitful, self-sustaining farmers and gardeners in the country, Eric about went into shock when I told him I wanted to plant a garden.

Wanting to embrace my new role as farmer's wife (I am an all or nothing kind of gal), I joyfully signed up for Gardening 101. I spoke to other gardeners for tips, read lots of books, and even learned how to can and preserve the fruits of my labor. Eric helped me build the garden bed. My older son, three at the time, helped plant the seeds and water the little plot of turned soil.

And the waiting began.

One week past... doubt crept in. Could I really pull this off? Two weeks past my planting, little sprouts finally emerged. I was elated. I was determined to be successful (especially after my husband lovingly told me, "Don't be disappointed if this doesn't turn out. It's your first time.") I had EVERYTHING to prove. I carefully tended to each seedling, packing soil around its delicate little stem and watered each one daily (I just so happened to start gardening during one of the worst droughts in twenty years.) I pulled every weed that poked its unwanted head out of the soil. This garden was MINE. I was its protector. Nothing was going to destroy it.

I used to think bunnies were cute. The morning I awoke to the little chewed nubs of my zucchini, pea and bean plants those furry little nuisances became my mortal enemy. Up went the fence around my garden. A couple of weeks later my garden was flourishing again, with my firstfruits of spinach and arugula. A salad never tasted so good! I really could do this whole gardening thing! By the end of the summer I had made 8 or 10 (I lost track) loaves of delicious zucchini bread and canned an abundance of tasty pasta and pizza sauce that lasted us through the winter.

(My latest homemade chunky garden pasta sauce using - get this -

 NINE veggies and herbs from my garden!)

 

 

I had impressed my husband, gained confidence in myself, and provided food for my family. God bore fruit in my life in more than one way.

God has taught me so much about His love for me through this whole gardening process. In John 15: 1-2, Jesus tells us "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." In verse 5 he elaborates "I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

NOTHING.

As I watered... as I pruned... as I grew fierce in my protectiveness for each little plant, God spoke directly into my heart - "This is how I love you, Heather." I wonder what He sees sometimes as He looks down on me. Some days I am perky and strong and bending towards His light. Other days I am wilting, drooping, my fruit in danger of becoming spoiled. I bet there are days when He sees me completely aloof to the danger around me... the days I forget to ask for His protection... but He is always fierce for me. Always.

I know with a fact that I had nothing to do with the prosperity of my garden. Gardens need water and sunlight or they cannot grow. I can provide neither of those things. I am only able to prosper when I remained attached to The Vine. He is my Living Water and Light of the world. Apart from Him I can do nothing. Like a piece of fruit that falls from its vine, I am dead the moment I pull away from Him. Subject to spoilage and disease. And even though at times His pruning process can be painful, I know that when friendships fade and circumstances change in my life, He is essentially cutting out the things that are taking too much energy from me, so that I can bear even more fruit.

What I really love, is that God was so incredibly awesome to create us in His image, then allow us to step into some of the roles He claims for Himself, so we can come to know Him better. Amen to that.

  Fruitful blessings

 For those of you who may have been concerned about the well being of our sweet dog, Zoya, the above photo was taken this past weekend on a hike in one of our favorite spots - Starved Rock State Park. She will be nine years old this November. I am very glad I didn't listen to that wedding advice... or I may just have never made it to this point in my life.

Finding the Treasure

I was a high school student, a native to central New York. The city of Syracuse, with its six-story Carousel Mall, roaring college life, and sprawling suburbs that offered every restaurant, recreational activity, and beautiful state parks with trails and beaches, was the perfect place for a girl like me to grow up in. Convenience had spoiled me. And I hadn't even been introduced to Starbucks yet.

I vividly recall this conversation with my mother. It's funny how God doesn't let us forget some things. We were standing in a clothing store, (most likely a J.Crew) and I was making my typical, pleading comment of, "Oh, I loooove this!" And my ever-loving momma looked at me and replied, "You better marry someone who makes alot of money to keep up with your expensive taste." My witty, unthought out retort was, "I'll marry anybody but a farmer."

I am now a thirty-two year old mother of two beautiful and rambunctious little boys. And I am the wife of a farmer. It is a very long story as to how I arrived here, but I AM here... living in a small, quaint little town, somewhere in the middle of Illinois. Corn and soybean fields encompass this little pocket of life. After years of pleading with God to bring me ANYWHERE but here, THIS is the place He wanted me. And the biggest shocker of it all, is that there is no place I would rather be.

Jesus was a storyteller. In one parable he tells us, "The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it."

I am a wife, stay-at-home mom, daughter, sister, and friend. I forget almost everything, love to cook but hate doing the dishes, and consider late night ice cream indulgence to be just as important as breakfast. And God has given me a story. Abandoning the life I thought I always wanted brought me to a place of new beginnings. A place where my story took a sharp right turn and landed back on the pages of His story. And once again, as God always does, He brought me to the place I have always wanted to be... a place overflowing with His grace, love and mercy. Standing in a field of pearls.

I have journaled (privately, in books kept in my night table for noone else to read) for 14 years. After resisting nudges from friends, and well, let's be honest, Someone I should have learned to listen to by now, I have decided to take the plunge and put my thoughts "out there"... Not for my own benefit, but for the sake of sharing about my struggles, hopes, fears, failures, and blessings with the faith that there are others out there like me... exhausted moms who love their children, wives who adore their husbands but who still struggle with insecurities inflicted by the world, girlfriends who have the greatest women in their lives but still struggle with loneliness, Christ followers who desire to have a heart after God's own heart but fail repeatedly, and others with... a story.

We all have one. As I look out into my backyard and see the tall, green fields of corn stalks swaying in the breeze, I am reminded of the treasure I find when I trust God's plan for my life. I am excited to see how this continuing story unfolds.