Breathing Expectation




Regrets. Feel the weight? Just reading this simple 7-letter word feels the same as an elephant sitting on my chest. Worse yet, a talking elephant that chastises me while continuing to press the breath out of my body. I’m flattened and wallowing in shame all at once.

I can avoid that elephant for a time. But eventually she catches up to me. Sometimes I even throw her peanuts. And then, I’m really in trouble. Welcoming regrets is definitely something about which I should have regrets.

One of my wise sisters-in-law (I am blessed with many!) lent me a book last week. Chapter 2 suggests I fast from regrets. I love the concept so I’m doing that. Not fully successfully yet. But making progress. Have you ever tried to make an elephant disappear? It’s a bit of a slow process. But not futile. I’m claiming space, as well as my breath.

The biggest revelation so far is understanding what sinking into regrets has done to me.


An idea so foreign and repulsive to me on the surface, yet turning my regrets over in my mind and entering again into the shame and disappointment of them accomplishes pretty much the same thing. Yuck!

That comparison has been an incredible revelation for me. I’m not interested in physical self harm, so why do I engage in the mental version?

Understanding what spending time and brain power in regrets actually does to me is making it easier to stop, but I have it written on my bathroom mirror in red lipstick just in case.

My lipstick is pretty, but the bible always says it best:

For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.

2 Corinthians 7:10


Embracing Damage

It’s a season of fixing.

The need to fix, of course, generally means something has been broken. I have a number of things that currently require fixing, such as drywall, tile, and a few clothing items to be mended.

Unfortunately, I also have a few intangible items that need fixing as well. Getting around to these repairs is more difficult to face and follow through on than, say, picking up a wall patch and some paint.

Nevertheless it’s time to get busy fixing. I’ve been pondering a few changes of my own lately and then a conversation last night with Oldest Son veered into a discussion (with a smattering of lecture thrown in) on Living Well. As we chatted, I realized I need to take my own advice and confront the areas where I am not living as well as I know I can.

On facing the necessary fixes, it’s a little daunting but also exciting imagining what the end result might look like. A new coat of paint in the entryway, a kinder/less judgmental view of others as my first, rather than learned, response. Both are extremely appealing and therefore I move forward with anticipation.

The thing about my brain though–a trait shared by Oldest Son–is that I don’t move forward without looking back. As I assess the fixing required, I also dwell a little on the damage done. Broken pieces of wall, tile, self. Mostly self.

Its not that I don’t trust that Jesus is enough to sweep away the mess, fill the cracks. I do. Most days anyway. But I’m always mournful of the time and resources wasted on the mistakes. I hate making mistakes. And, oh, not being right all the time. I hate that too.

This week, though, I’ve seen the beauty in surrendering, rather than reliving, the damage. God was gracious enough to teach me about kintsugi. I’m not an artist. Nor do I have an inclination to seek out things art-related so it truly is a merciful intervention this information was presented to me.

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery or ceramics with lacquer mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The repair method has been referred to as “embracing the damage.” Words that sweep my heart clean.

The damage was done, yes. But it has been repaired, also yes. And when repaired well, the new look is sometimes more interesting than the original.

While I’m still sorry there is repair work required within me, I can see the damage is not irreparable and is, in fact, transformed into beauty. Jesus again takes my breath away by making all things new.

And He who sits on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” And He said, “Write, for these words are faithful and true.” Revelation‬ ‭21:5‬ ‭NASB‬‬

Pay Attention!

I’m simultaneously watching the Vikings game, a series on Netflix, and reading, as well as keeping an eye on my smartphone for game and social media alerts. Read: I live a distracted life.

Over the last few months I’ve been pondering my attention to and presence in my day-to-day living. More often than not, I find myself trying to manage too much at once. Not necessarily multi-tasking but more multi-focused. Guess what? It doesn’t work so well.

Last night I was sharing with (possibly lecturing) Oldest Son on recent personal decisions. I questioned whether some of his choices were really driven by his personal character makeup or if they had simply become habits. I was really pleased with my momentary parental wisdom until I realized this morning that I need to ask myself the very same question.

So much of what I do is because I’ve gotten into the habit of doing so. Drinking water and exercising routinely are two I feel pretty good about. Living a distracted life by habitually giving limited attention to a number of things at once is not so great.

Over the past 2 months (minus today obviously), I have been forcing myself to try more often to pay attention to the issue of the moment without letting anything else in. It’s been surprisingly difficult. For example, I am a life-long reader. I enjoy everything about books and can’t get enough of them. However, I no longer just read. I read while monitoring my phone and checking one thing leads to another and another until I’ve lost an evening wondering what I even looked at and why. I am most surprised to discover I now have difficulty reading without constant interruption.

Right now I can’t tell you the score of the game, the next suspect in my Netflix drama, or the key moment in my book without “rewinding.” Not a very smart way to go through life.

I’m only making one New Year’s Resolution for 2018 and I am going to start now. I intend to live a focused life attending fully to whatever requires my attention that moment/hour/day. I will hear people when they speak to me and I will respond appropriately (even if that is respectful silence) because I will know what they said and be able to read the emotion on their face.

I suspect I may even lose my coffee cup and phone less frequently simply by paying attention. Cheers to 2018 and getting in better touch with the things and people that matter in life!

Keep your eyes straight ahead; ignore all sideshow distractions. Watch your step and the road will stretch out smooth before you.” Proverbs 4:25-26 (MSG)

Miracle not Merit

Miracles aren’t based on merit.

Everyone has reason to hope.

These words came to me as I was pondering the number of people I know right now who are counting on a miracle. Some for health issues, others for improved finances, and more for a singular difficult life circumstance to be changed.

I am also waiting for something about which I have been praying specifically for a year and a half. I was talking to God about my request again a couple of days ago and shortly after that made a fairly poor life choice. Almost immediately I decided God will never honor my prayer because of my sin.

That’s when he struck my heart with the words above. If a miracle is based on my behavior, it really isn’t much of a miracle. Then life would always be good as long as I am good and I would be controlling everything. And although I really like having control (topic for another day), that would be a ridiculous and exhausting way to live. It also minimizes who God is and the awesomeness of supernatural intervention.

I contemplated those words and as they sunk into my very soul, the very obvious answer that I am not the recipient of a miracle based on my own merit became real to me.

Miracle as defined by is: 1 an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.

2 such an effect or event manifesting or considered as a work of God.

Supernatural. Meaning I can’t, He can. Also meaning He doesn’t need me to make it happen. I recognize the power of prayer and the important role that so often plays in the result of miracles day after day. I’m simply saying miracles don’t hinge on my own tally of good versus bad behavior.

As with all gifts from God the Father, Christ the Son, and the Holy Spirit, miracles are given by grace alone. As was the greatest gift of all–Christ himself.

Letting that message through to my brain and heart is very freeing. It’s all in God’s hands and there is no better place for a person’s desires to be.

If you are waiting for an answer to prayer or a miraculous intervention, let these words permeate you and live in hopeful expectation.

Wisdom from the Hammock

Lacy pattern of green leaves with deep blue sky filtering in between. That was my view recently when I lay in middle son’s hammock. Above me were branches of three different types of trees (I can name only the popple and oak). I swung quietly and studied them as though I were again a 10-year old with few cares in the world. I had forgotten to grab a blanket but found myself wrapped in the peace of just being. Stopping the noise, chaos, and cares of everyday life to become a part of the beauty surrounding me. I breathed more deeply than I have in a decade.

In that silence and dappled light, thoughts that I’ve been turning over in my head finally had a quiet space to land. Mainly thoughts of perfection and performance. I resist the label perfectionist with a wrestler’s tricks and movement, yet I can’t deny the performance-based foundation I have created for myself in so many ways.

I’m an achiever. Which makes me valuable to others in a lot of areas but also weighs very heavy on me. Nobody can perform THE BEST all the time. And trying to do so is ludicrous. Striving to meet temporary goals is exhausting and leads to disappointment and self-condemnation. It takes away from true life. And quite honestly those to whom those traits are most valuable don’t fit the category of core people in my life. Hmmm. Seems a life change is in order.

True life is that time spent deeply with those I love and who love me back with fierce commitment (the core people!). I am beyond blessed to have a husband, kids, parents, in-laws, and friends who fill that category to overflowing again and again and again. Sometimes I’m a rockstar at showing and giving back that love and time. And sometimes I get distracted because I’m so busy in another area of my life working so hard for that incredibly-best outcome.

God has pressed convictingly on my heart in 2017 about this issue. The choice is unbelievably simple. All those I love ask is that I be present. What has been an ongoing internal wrestling match is starting to become a natural choice. I now clearly see that where I felt conflict, I, in truth, have created my own conflict. 

I woke this morning a little heavy of heart. But this time, before my mind started ticking about how to positively control everything for an excellent outcome, I heard God ask me, “How would you feel right now if you weren’t immersed in A, B, and C?” And I smiled. Jesus fixed A, B, and C for me long before I took my first breath. It’s gonna be a good day. And I’m living some of it from the hammock.

An Open Letter to my Readers

I’m working on a blog post right now that I am finding supremely difficult. Basically it’s about harmony with the larger body of Christ—the worldwide set of those who believe in Jesus Christ as the risen Son of God. It shouldn’t be so difficult. Jesus says love each other and Paul later reinforces that message in his letters to the various new churches. Lots of material and wise words to reference.

To be honest, I’m struggling with personalizing the message. Personalization is key to making valid points and engaging whoever happens to come across my wee little blog. To me that means sometimes sharing my own shortcomings and hopefully providing some encouragement that our bad attitudes and general failures can be overcome.unnamed

I am so grateful to those of you who encourage me in my writing and let me know when and where it touches you. I am also grateful to those of you who tell me I am too hard on myself and that I’m “not that bad.” But for those of you in the second group, please hear me: My point isn’t to publicly self-condemn. It really is about sharing the “me too” moments of this life walk. What better way for us to connect than when and where we find the “I get it; I get you” connections. That’s where I put the sweat of my words. Maybe in some small way, I am contributing to the oneness of the body of Christ by sharing what I can do better by following Him. And I thank you for the privilege of sharing that with you.

A Reflection on My Dad

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

Thank you for 50 years of practical guidance, heartfelt moments, and loving me as unconditionally as a human being possibly can.

I am so grateful for decades of memories. Many hilarious, some serious, and a few anger producing. The anger was on my end and from when I was about 14. Thanks to you and Mom for both hanging in there and shaping me into a better person than I could ever have become on my own. 

I spent the first 30 years of my life believing you were never wrong. What a relief to finally discover you are as human as the rest of us! This revelation didn’t diminish my admiration for you. Rather, I realized you had the ability to maintain positive leadership and earn our respect through what must have been your own uncertainties. Thank you for being a strong parent and showing me how to love and lead my own children. 

Relationships are made for change and ours is no different. We have navigated this dance of life as best we can. Some life change has been remarkably difficult and we have been powerless to stop it. But we have faced it together and that has made the difference.

We probably won’t celebrate today the way we used to. I know some days are really tough for you. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to wish (my word, not yours) a body would remain physically capable of all that it once could do.  I’m okay with the changes we are experiencing because you are still here. We both know that is nothing short of miraculous and I am beyond grateful.

It may surprise you to know that the moments we spend visiting now are some of the sweetest in my memory bank. I hope they are for you too.

Dad, you are still and always will be My Superman. (Minus the tights of course!)

Happy Father’s Day! Thank you for making every day of my life richer and fuller because I have a dad who cares and has asked me the hard questions and always come through for me. Life may have changed your body a bit but it has not changed your strength of character. Thank you for passing that on to me. I love you, Cindy

PS: Your worst piece of advice to me ever was to stop having babies. Where would we all be without your youngest, extremely tenacious grandson?!

My Saturday Morning Heart

Saturday morning, cup of coffee in hand, is a weekly ritual when I “take stock” of what occurred in my life the past week. 

Unfortunately, this beautiful Saturday morning finds me steeped in regret. Words I spoke, actions I chose, thoughts I let percolate in my head until they became nearly poisonous. Why? I know better, so why don’t I “do better?” These words from the Apostle Paul at least tell me I am in good company:  I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. Romans 7:15
I really do have a desire to speak uplifting words, choose wise actions, and think positive thoughts. Unfortunately I also (almost simultaneously) don’t want to make those better choices and all too often I choose to speak/live/think in destructive ways. Strong word that–destructive–but completely appropriate. When I choose to not live in the freedom of Christ, it negatively affects not only me but those I talked about and also those who share in the consequences of the poor choices I made.

Enter this week where I have to face what has developed out of some some really bone-headed decisions. I know better. I mean, I really know better. But something about those moments drew me to the point of no return. Where I almost couldn’t help but push myself over the lines of good judgment. Truth is though, I could help myself and simply chose not to. Repeatedly.

I continue to look for what my new best friend Paul has to say so that I might find hope to cling to. Throughout Romans 7, he references the internal war we all face:  I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out . . . who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

There is, as always, a way out. Jesus. And when I look back through the telephoto lens of my week, the truth is that I didn’t want to reach out to him. I could have. Oh the avalanche of self-destructive habits I could have stopped with even one silent plea. 

The good news is it is absolutely never too late to turn my heart, thoughts, words, and decisions over to my savior. That’s Paul’s point. On our own, we aren’t wired toward goodness and unconditional love of others. That comes only through our belief in Christ and our continuing surrender of our lives to him. 

This morning, I am not going to hang onto the mess I put in motion. I’m handing it to him, telling him I’m sorry, and asking for mercy to help get it right next time. And he says, “Yes.”

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. -Romans 8:2

That’s me! And Saturday is looking up!!


I’m simply undone. The church I attend semi-regularly has a first Sunday of the month evening worship service that I say I really love but haven’t made a priority in several months. Tonight I pulled myself together 20 minutes before the start and headed out.

I asked God for an answer to a specific prayer on the 5-minute drive. It’s a prayer I’ve been asking off and on (more off than on) for the past 5+ years. I haven’t really been serious about receiving a response from Him because to get one requires something of me. And I’ve been really reluctant to know the outcome of this one. Anyway, question asked on the drive and kind of forgotten as I took my seat.

Sunday night typically has really good worship music. Tonight was no exception, but none of the music was really impacting me. In fact, I had to mentally remind myself several times about where my focus belongs. At some point during the service, I mentioned to God that if He were looking to get a hold of me tonight, the music was going to have to be something really meaningful to me. And I suggested in my heart that it should be something I really like and probably as moving as The Agnus Dei.

The night proceeded. I was touched by the readings, the prayers, the fellowship, and by the music (a little). At the close, the attendees were reminded this was the last Sunday evening service ever. And the worship team closed. With . . . The Agnus Dei.

Total heart silence on my part. Barely able to sing the words. And then I realized God was answering my 5+ year prayer. With the last song. Likely chosen by the worship team days before. On a night when I didn’t even anticipate going to church. Bam. That’s just how God is. I am not random. You are not random. We are forever in His thoughts and He loves us through words and songs and every individual way imaginable.

The answer He shared with me tonight is not one I am thrilled with. In fact, I wrestled with Him a little on the way home, lightly arguing that I meant I wanted better music and that part really wasn’t about answering my prayer. I gave up pretty quickly though. It’s not remotely arguable. He reached out and touched me without a doubt.

What’s next? A whole lot of trust. Because this step isn’t going down without my leaning on him for every footfall. It requires mental, physical, and spiritual commitment of more than I can put forth on my own. Good thing He’s God and I belong to Him. He told me so on a quiet Sunday night in a small town church during their last Sunday evening service.



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