I Talk Too Much.

Remember my chains.

I spent a few minutes in Colossians this morning. In brief, Paul is in prison, and he is writing with joy to a people who had encountered heretical teachings encouraging them to stay the straight path with fervor.

Y'all. He is in prison. With joy. AGAIN.

His last words to the Colossians are, "Remember my chains." In other words, "Y'all better not forget about me here! I know it's bad, but I'm in prison and still spreading the Gospel with JOY. Keep it going, people!"

I'm not quite sure that's exactly how he meant it, but in my head, that's how it goes down.

What in the world does this have to do with me talking too much? And more importantly, where do you come in? Let me take you back a few (five, to be exact) months...

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May 2015: The last time I wrote (within this medium). You've noticed the radio silence, yes? Looking back at a few of my last posts, I can't help but notice: I talk too darned much.

Yes, I know that's kind of the point as a writer. I'm supposed to engage you, the reader, and enlighten you in new ways and introduce familiar concepts with a fresh eye. I'm supposed to inspire you to find new perspective or maybe even enrage you so you feel stronger than you ever have before.

But I talked and talked until my face turned blue about following your calling, obeying God's will for your life, and rid yourself of the unsettling feeling of not living up to your potential. But while I feel I provided you with sound advice, I stopped short of my promise. I didn't follow through, nor did I follow my own path.

Our dear friend Paul, in his sweet letter to the Colossians, also says this:

Work willingly at whatever you do as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people. Remember that the Lord will give you an inheritance as your reward, and that the Master you are serving is Christ. (3:23-24 NLT)

I guess this is an apology of sorts. For Talking the Talk, but not Walking the Walk. For painting a picture of what obedience looks like, but not living it myself. And I have no excuse but for the chains that bind me: fear.

The thing about fear is that it's a slow, yet sudden take-over. The swirl of smoke is almost pleasant until you realize it's blazing out of control and has consumed all that surrounds it. So while I continued receive confirmation that The Incredible K be a platform of encouragement, faith, and a little home-y goodness (add in a splash of my cute kiddos), the more I felt as if my words would have no impact. Worse, the more those around me urged me to continue, the more I felt I wasn't equipped to share God's plan for me. For you.

And guess what?

I'm not.

Equipped, that is. But neither are you. Most grand gestures have the greatest impact when they're a step out in faith; a belief in the unknown, but just knowing it's right. The thing is, God has given us each unique gifts to fulfill His glory-filled plan. And when our plans align with His will, we need not be "prepared" in the classical sense, but to openly follow what we know He has called us to do. As Paul says, we are to work willingly at whatever we do as though we were working for the Lord Himself (paraphrased). We're not to work in His glory as a means to an earthly ends, nor are we to work to please the people around us. Serve them? Yes. Please them? No.

Do you feel the needling in the back of your mind? The one that says, "YES! That's it! That's where you're supposed to be!" Is it confirmed often, but you haven't yet taken the steps? THAT is what I'm talking about. When ten different people ask me why I haven't written in a while, then three different friends forward me an email about an upcoming writer's conference, and then I participate in a workshop to determine my God-breathed gifts in my life and WRITING comes up number one? That's it. That's where I'm supposed to be. My lack of follow through despite God-given directives has directly resulted in the uneasy, restless feeling I've had this year, my year of CONNECT. Because I just simply haven't.

What it is for you? What keeps you up at night and gets your heart racing? Come with me. Come as I unabashedly write from the heart, reach out to others, and fulfill the call in my life at this moment in time with joy. And you do the same. Follow that small voice. The Holy Spirit is strong, and He confirms your gifts. Come with me.

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. 

Ephesians 2:10

xoxo, K.

Week 4: God Does Not Resent You

God Does Not Resent You

The first time I read those words, they hit me over the head like a ton of bricks. And even though it was two weeks ago, they continue to resonate like a sounding gong over and over and over again.

God Does Not Resent You

The people pleaser that I am, I don't like making a stink about things, or really being much of a bother to anyone. Apparently this translates to all things divine as well. I'm a self-righteous God-pleaser, and I'd hate to bother Him for anything, really, so sometimes I just keep my brain quiet, as to not disturb Him in all of His business.

There was a time in my life that I don't like to think about. So many great things happened during that time, but one part of me kept my heart in a state of unrest: my ignoring the gentle tugs of the Lord's call. He would whisper, Come to me and I will give you peace, and I responded with the equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and singing, "LA LA LA LA" as loud as I could. I didn't want to hear about His mercy. His peace. His forgiveness. His redemption.

Why? It wasn't as if I didn't believe He was there. I am fortunate enough to have known about God's presence for most of my life. But the thoughts in my head sang the tune of, I'm just not that important. I don't want to be a bother. My troubles aren't big enough. Just little 'ol me. Nothing to see here.

It's funny, looking back on those few years of my life, and I'm able to see His hand in all of it. Without my asking, He placed me in the safety of His arms, saving me from myself and my self-destructive behavior. He knew how the story would twist and turn, with my eyes slowly changing direction and refocusing on His grace and forgiveness. Even though I blatantly and purposefully ignored Him while claiming just not wanting to be a bother, He actively pursued me and my heart. He slowly showed me what true acceptance of His love meant.

The thing about God? He doesn't care where you live, or what you've done. He actively seeks each of us as individuals. Despite war and famine and poverty, and all of the things that seem significantly more than little old you, He still cares. And He'll still pursue your heart. Because He wants you to pursue His. God shows us this perfect way to live, because he wants us to live in Him fully so we can show love and kindness to others despite their place in life.

Those years ago I think, despite my child-like response to His call, deep down I knew the Truth. I knew there was spiritual warfare taking place for my soul specifically. And He went (and goes) up to bat for me every. single. time. He let me fail, and learn, and grow. But He never left.

Because Christ always wins.

No matter your past. No matter your present. No matter your wrongs. No matter your actions. He does not resent you asking for help. He does not resent you for seeking His guidance. He does not resent you for constantly pleading for His hand in your life.

God wants you. All of you.

xoxo, k.


Today's post was inspired by the completion of my small group's study of Beth Moore's Children of the Day. Go read it. Right now. No compensations here, just spreading some good 'ole love.

Need some more inspiration this Monday? Head on over here to enjoy some other courageous writers!

http://www.blessedbutstressed.com/2015/01/26/follow-god-not-fellow-christians/

Day 7: Drain and Re-Spin

Yesterday, in the standards of playing princess and doctor while making sure I'm not overrun by dog hair and dust, it was a pretty good day. The kids let me clean the kitchen as they diagnosed and treated "silly-belly-itis," we used a lazy Monday as an excuse to stay in pj's until 11 am, and said kiddos were being quite sweet and helpful to one another, and to me. Win.

And then.

As I started taking clothes out of the wash, I noticed that they seemed rather... wet. Absentmindedly, I reset the load to "Drain and Spin," anticipating that it would do just that.

So when I came down to check in with the load after the kids had settled nicely into quiet time, I hadn't really prepared for a machine full of water. With my clothes in it. The ones I needed to wear.

The next hour was a blur of me problem shooting with the washer people (lovely that they are, they had no explanation), and eventually scheduling a repair man. We somehow got out of the house to run our errands, which included my sweet girl's ballet class.

We dropped the library books, got the gas, and pulled up to ballet with myself feeling quite satisfied how I had handled everything. Even Miss E's bun looked pretty darn good (if I do say so). But as I turned to my little ballerina to talk about her upcoming class, reality hit: We hadn't grabbed her ballet bag. We had no shoes. No ballet belt. Nothing.

As this realization hit, Mr. C groggily woke, looked at me with tears on the brink, and signed for milk. We had no milk. We had no milk and no ballet stuff, and the weight of the slurry of the afternoon hit me like a ton of bricks. I hung my head trying not to show my face red hot with anger.

"It's ok, mommy. Just pray."

With those five words, the red drained from my face, and my world spun right around. I looked at that sweet little thing, and she was right. And she was watching my every move.

I think we've made it clear that no one is immune from imperfection. Thank God. So I did what she told me. I prayed aloud for peace in the stress and rush of the afternoon. I prayed for Miss E to enjoy her time in class, despite not having shoes. I prayed for Mr. C to have patience with his momma, and to embrace the hour we had just the two of us. Because they're watching. They need to see what my faith looks like, even when it's a little messy and things aren't going my way.

As "Amen" came across my lips, Miss E looked at me and declared, "That's great mommy. Let's go to ballet! I think we just need to ask Miss Emily if it's ok if I barefoot in class."

She uses barefoot as a verb, as in "I love to barefoot outside on the sidewalk." It's one of my favorites.

Here's my point: Sometimes days are undoubtedly hard. Sometimes they're not. Sometimes we almost have it all together, and then we watch things spin out of control. When that happens, stop. Breathe. You're only a prayer away from getting it all back together. Did we fix the problem? No, but thanks to my mighty three year old, we gained new perspective. If you can't see past it, look for a new perspective. It's there, and it will change your outlook. I promise.

xoxo, k.

Day 6: The Perfectionist

I'm sitting here Sunday night, with 10 different drafts in my arsenal, nothing speaking to me, finding nothing. to. say.

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The perfectionist. She's in all of us, but only rears her ugly head when we least expect it. Unfortunately for me, I'm often left feeling paralyzed, and in this case, 2 hours and 38 minutes from Day 6 with nothing to show for it.

I have to say, though, since having kiddos the perfectionist in me has been brought down to a low hum. At least in some areas of my life. Right now? There's stuff on the floor. In multiple rooms. But this is the first time I've had a moment to myself since I woke up to, "Mommy, I made my bed!" And found every stuffed animal within a five mile radius of our house on my daughter's bed. "Thanks for being a big helper, honey."

But this writing space? Somehow the little thoughts of perfectionism have slid into the cracks of my exterior, and just like that she's taken over, deceiving me in believing I'll ever reach anyone on a cool Monday morning in October.

And it's got me thinking about this perfectionist. This thief of joy and benefactor of unattainable ideals.

When I'm a perfectionist, I teach my children it's not ok to make mistakes.
When I'm a perfectionist, I build a wall around myself that doesn't let others see my true self.
When I'm a perfectionist, I waste time worrying about...everything.
When I'm a perfectionist, my facade tells others their best isn't good enough.
When I'm a perfectionist, I miss the true beauty of this life, and as a result I'm robbed of what is pure and different in the world. Perfectionism makes us believe that there's only one way, which alienates us from our community, friends, family.

Perfectionism strips us from the very threads of the world around us. It deceives us into believing that there is something perfect to strive for. But these distinct differences of this world, that's what makes it go around. That's the beauty of it all! And that's what helps us to grow in relationships with others, break down barriers and move closer to a more fulfilling and rich life.

When we first moved last year, I invited a new friend over so our children could play together. Mr. Kuda had been traveling for work, and despite the fact that we had lived in the rental for a few months, we were not unpacked, and I just couldn't find it in me to clean up to the perfect house I wanted to portray. I was mortified, but something in me just couldn't get it done. I apologized profusely, but she told me to stop, and that she was somewhat relieved that I didn't have it all together all the time. Those were her words: I'm kind of relieved because that means you don't have it all together all the time. What a blessing! Not only to me, but to her as well. It was that moment that a friendship grew; just one decision made allowed her to get a glimpse of my true self.

What if? What if we let those barriers fall, just one brick at a time? What if we allowed others to see our imperfections? The healing nature of doing so is powerful, if only we have the courage to do it every single day.

That's your challenge today: Expose your imperfections, and allow others to see who you truly are. As we embrace the ways we don't have it all together, and in that we will give the greatest gift to one another: ourselves.

xoxo, k.