Broken, Fragrant and Beautiful

It is a sight to behold when 3,500 mothers of preschoolers from around the globe gather in one room. Feather boas draped around necks, tall leather boots adorning the lightest feet, contagious boisterous laughter echoing off the walls, hugs galore, happy tears, chatty mouths with grins stretching ear to ear. Why? Freedom. Freedom from wiping snotty noses. Freedom from eating cold meals at odd times of the day. Freedom from interruptions. Freedom to speak in complete sentences. Freedom to pursue intimacy with friends. Freedom to focus, or refocus rather, on the One who often is neglected as a result of our daily demands of motherhood. Freedom to be a woman, in all of her essence, as she was created to be.

I had the privilege and blessing of being able to attend a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) convention this past weekend in Kansas City, Missouri. It is always so good for my soul to be able to step away from my hectic life and have an opportunity to miss my family. And I did miss my men - all three of them - in the worst way. Just knowing that I am almost 500 miles away from my most precious loves makes my heart ache. But I needed this four day moment to refresh my perspective on mothering, engage in sessions meant to equip me as a ministry leader, and most importantly, reconnect with my God who hadn't been receiving much attention from me lately.

Being a mom is hard. Motherhood is physically and emotionally exhausting. It requires a full time commitment to placing the needs of my children above my own. I fight - hard - for my children's well being and security in all situations. I stay up all night with my sick children, comforting them, singing lullabies to calm their weary souls. But all those things I gladly do, with little degree of difficulty. It is in my blood. I am a mother - a warrior woman who will happily jump on top of a grenade if it means shielding my precious children from a blast. Those choices are not hard to make. At all.

What makes motherhood so hard are the lies I tell myself. I am not good enough. My children will grow up hating me because I screamed at them for ripping pages out of their bedtime stories. When I give my kids pop tarts I am doing them an injustice and they will most likely develop a rare form of cancer and it will be all my fault. I am too overprotective. I am not protective enough. Despite my professional grade camera, and the fact that I take a zillion pictures of my beautiful children every day, I have never paid for professional pictures to be taken of my kids and that is just not fair to them. I don't entertain my kids every minute of the day and if I stay at home with them this shouldn't be a problem. Because I stay at home my four year old should already be able to read and write, tie his shoes, ride a bike... I just don't do enough. These lies have been added to my very being, like sandbags tied around my waist, weighing me down, turning every moment - every decision I make as a mother - into a resonating question in my mind - "Is what I am doing good enough?"

As I sat in my chair this weekend, listening to amazing Godly women pour out their hearts in pure unadulterated honesty and vulnerability, I began to witness a beautiful, colorful thread weaving its way through the stories of these women. Real women. World renown Christian and inspirational speakers with published books, highly successful Bible studies, blogs, and thriving BLESSED ministries. Sharing stories of their brokenness. Weaknesses. Mistakes. Shortcomings. And it hit me - THIS is what unites us women together - our brokenness. Our weaknesses. Our mistakes. Our shortcomings. When the stone walls that protect our pulsing, vulnerable hearts come crashing down and we are left exposed like Achilles' heel - this is when our true essence is able to emerge.

         essence (n) - 1. fundamental nature or quality. 2. a substance distilled or extracted from another substance and having the special qualities of the original substance. 3. PERFUME.

This word... essence... has been on my mind lately. I am currently leading a Bible study with my fellow MOPS moms, and the question we have been asking throughout this study is "Do I have beauty to unveil? If I do, how do I unveil it?" How do we strip off the sandbags that weigh us down, the added baggage that pollutes our fundamental nature - our very essence? This past weekend I believe I got a glimpse of the answer. Mark 14:1-9 and John 12:1-8 reveal Mary's heart, a woman who poured an entire bottle of expensive perfume (worth a year's wages) over the feet of Jesus and wiped his feet with her hair. First of all, Mary did this publicly, and was criticized for it. She didn't care. She pushed any insecurities she may have had aside, knelt before her King and poured perfume over his feet. But I don't believe it was just perfume that she gifted Jesus with - it was her very essence - her vulnerability, her devotion to her purpose, her pure love for her King, that she poured over him.

I love how God has the ability to speak through Scripture that I have read so many times, and breath new life in it over and over again. In thinking about my essence - which by definition could also be my "perfume," I recalled a verse in Psalm that I used to sing back in college worship services. Psalm 141:2 (KJV) says, "Let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense; and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." The Hebrew word for incense in this verse is qetoreth, which can also be translated in the Bible as perfume.

I need to interject here that I LOVE pulling out my Strong's Concordance and uncovering the deeper meanings of the words used in our common Biblical translations. I have Beth Moore to thank for this (who, by the way I had the IMMENSE pleasure of meeting at this conference... if I lived in the 60's the Beatles would have had nothing on her.)

So we have this image of a wonderfully fragrant perfume being poured over Jesus. Could this be the ultimate picture of what it looks like to unveil our beauty - to reveal our very essence? May my prayers be sweet smelling incense... may my heart pay no attention to the criticism that resounds around me AND in me of myself... may I willingly and generously pour out my own fragrant perfume that is uniquely found in my soul alone over the King that longs to be covered with it.

I have spoken with so many women who long for transparency in their relationships. We CRAVE intimacy with other women. We have been made in the image of Christ, and this desire for authentic, transparent relationships stems from that likeness we share with him. Revealing our true selves - broken and choosing to recognize the beauty in that brokenness - will not only help us engage in deeper, meaningful relationships with other women, but also draw us into Jesus' arms, who is so jealous FOR us... how can we not feel beautiful in His presence?

My mind has been reeling ever since I got home from Kansas City... questions rolling through my mind of how I can improve my ministry, what I can write about that can even somewhat capture my experience... so much that I forgot to bring my 3 year old to preschool this morning. I think on most mornings I would have beaten myself up over this. But this morning, as we finished a late breakfast while all three of us got dressed - in less than 3 minutes - to get Gabe to school an hour late, I was thankful for the relief of the pressure to be a perfect mother. It's in my imperfection that my children will learn how to trust in their God. It's through my mistakes that my children will learn how forgiving their Heavenly Father is. They will learn that it is ok to be imperfect, broken and have moments of weakness because there is a God who can refine, fix and make strong absolutely EVERYTHING.

Being a mother is hard work. But being a mother who finds freedom in surrendering her heart to her King makes being a mother a whole lot easier.

View From the Top

My happy place. Encompassed by towering pines and golden aspens, bathed by a brilliantly warm sun, while breathing the pure, crisp and cool air - standing in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. Enjoying some much needed time alone as husband and wife, Eric and I ventured into the heart of the Colorado mountains, seeking nothing but adventure. We had no schedule, no reservations of any sort, and for the first time in a long time, time was on our side. Visiting an area we once called home, Eric and I trampled our old stomping grounds, and explored a few new places as well - one of which was Steamboat Springs.

An old friend's wedding brought us back out to the mountains that I love. A beautiful ceremony in the middle of an aspen grove, the sound of the trembling aspen leaves whispering in the background of two people professing their love to one another - a perfect reminder of what Eric and I were seeking last weekend as we embarked on this trip - a rekindling of our love, in a place marked by beauty and memories.

One of our favorite things to do while traversing through the mountains is just to drive - with nowhere in mind, no destination foreseen. Eric enjoys searching for beautiful homes. They inspire him, giving him ideas on how to plan for building our own future home. I, on the other hand, tend to keep my eyes peeled for state parks and roadside stops with trails that venture into the unknown. During one of these drives, where Eric was admiring the timber frame mountain homes and I was appreciating the beauty of the fall colors splashed across the towering slopes, the road dead ended at a hiking trail - Fish Creek Falls. It was a no-brainer for me to get out of the car. Any trail with "falls" in the title has me - hook, line and sinker. We had a few water bottles and some trail mix that we threw into a back pack, and we were on our way.

It was a quick 1/4 mile jaunt to the first waterfall. As we descended into the valley, the growing sound of the waterfall served as our guide. A bubbling creek with swirling eddies behind every protruding rock bordered our path on the right, and a sharp upward slope of pines sprinkled with fresh snow on our left kept us on course. A wooden bridge led us across the stream, with a picturesque view of the cascading falls before us. I could almost taste the clean mountain water in the air as the water rolled and turned over the smooth, interrupting rocks. The sound of the falls echoed in the canyon, creating a steady roar that vibrated in my chest. The waterfall stood at 283 feet. A mighty beauty to behold.

Fish Creek Falls

 

 

 

As we crossed the bridge, we overheard a couple of hikers talking about another waterfall 2.5 miles up into the mountains. Another no-brainer. We began the trek that led us out of the canyon, up the side of a mountain, through forests of pines and aspens, and along snowy and slushy trails. Eric and I have been on quite a few hikes throughout the Rocky Mountain range, and this was by far one of the most breathtakingly beautiful trails.

 

The bright warm sun broke through the stretching trees creating freckles of moving light on the forest floor. Emerald green moss blanketed the rocks, the powdery snow clinging to the soft sponges. The sound of the falls became a distant hum as we climbed further up the mountain. Cold drops of melting snow kissed our foreheads as we walked under the canopy of pine trees. The earthy scents of the various pine trees all intermingled into a fresh spicy scent that left me longing for Christmas time. The sun shown through clusters of bright red berries encapsulated by snow, which gave the appearance of jewels embedded in crushed diamonds.

 

Every turn, every step we took, lended itself to a more beautiful view. A grove of tall, stretching aspens greeted us as we neared the 2 mile mark. The quaking, delicate round leaves were the only proof that there was any wind at all. The honeyed leaves were ethereal - adorning the trees like a net of golden flecks. I could sit and listen to their hushed melody all day long. The smooth white bark reflected the sun's rays, illuminating the path that meandered through the forest.

 

Aspen leaves

 

Soon after the forest of aspens, we encountered some rocky and slippery terrain which the melting snow had turned into a trickling stream bed. Clusters of wild sage grew in the clefts of the rocks. We followed the rock path higher and higher until the sound of rushing water alerted us to the second waterfall nearby. The view at the top is always worth it. No matter the obstacles - the sludge covered trails, the thinning air, the slippery rocks - the view is always worth the work. Always.

  

 

As I looked out past where we had come from, I could see for miles and miles. The valley walls opened up to sweeping slopes that rolled on and on. The shifting clouds gave the illusion that the hills were moving and breathing. Something is awakened in me when I stand in the heart of the mountains - like a dream that becomes reality or a wish being fulfilled. The untouched beauty of the mountains, so majestic in nature, invites my heart to sing. As an artist, every view inspired me to want to paint. And as my mind narrated my journey through the mountains, and my eyes took snapshots of breathtaking views, and my nose captured scents that Yankee Candle could never match, and my ears were fancied by the sounds of nature's heartbeat, and my lungs breathed the cleanest and purest air - I thought about how much God must be delighting in me, delighting in His creation. I wonder if He just took His fingers, as He was Creating, and ran them along the earth... molding it like clay... his finger tips forming valleys, the mountains building up in between. The wilderness, in all of its glory and splendor, invites us to be still before its Creator - the beauty around us nothing but a dazzling display of God's love for us and a desire to reveal a bit of Himself to us - a mere glimpse of His glory and splendor.