bsmiles and sunny days

  Every morning my alarm goes off just before sunrise. Some days I hurry out of bed to see it. I pull my chair closer to the window to get the best view of the wonder and brilliance of light filling the sky. Every single time, the words of a song echo in my mind. “I see Your face in every sunrise, the colors of the morning are inside Your eyes. The world awakens in the light of the day, I look up to the sky and say, ‘You’re beautiful.’ “ It never fails. I see His face in every sunrise. I’ve spent a lot of my Christian life wrestling with the “doing” for God and neglecting the “being” with God. With Him is where everything beautiful happens.  John Piper teaches that God is most glorified in us when we are most SATISFIED in Him. Sitting with God in the morning fills me up in a way that nothing else does. It disengages me from my life and my hustle and my role to join Him in His. And let me tell you, it is absolutely soul satisfying.  “If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask wh

Found this little piggie in a blanket when I was cleaning out my corner cabinet. Usually I get the fever to purge my house a few days before New Year’s Day. This year it started a month early. When I finished my last library book, I was perusing the available titles and came across a book called “The Minimalist Home.” Minimalism has always appealed to me because I’m a hoarder by nature, and I loathe clutter. It’s the perfect storm for a family the our size.  I listened to the first chapter in the car by myself. It was so inspiring that as soon as I got home, I unloaded half of my closet’s items into a garbage bag for donation. The next day I listened to another chapter. Right away I started emptying drawers and cabinets, closets and storage areas.  I knew I would love how it felt to have less stuff, but I didn’t know I’d be excited to get out of bed every morning and get rid of more. I can’t understand why I keep things, but it has taken me years to finally let them go. I have noticed

  This afternoon I found myself with a bowl of Puppy Chow (muddy buddies) in my possession. People were taking handfuls from all sides when one of my girls backed away and said, “I don’t know how to stop eating this stuff.” I joyously anticipate the holidays all year long, and every year I am plagued by the same demons. I go to bed feeling stuffed, sick, and miserable because I don’t know how to stop eating. I make promises to myself that I won’t make the same mistake again tomorrow only to repeat the same ridiculous gluttonies day after day.  It’s not the food, it’s me. I don’t require any sort of restraint from myself. I don’t prepare myself for the onslaught of delicacies that will be within arms reach for days on end. I go in blind and hope for different results knowing all too well that without a plan I’m defenseless. After reading a chapter in Proverbs last week, I shared the dangers of drinking too much alcohol with my kids. They seemed to understand and absorb the wisdom, and t

  I spent the last week in a quiet hotel room with no agenda. My usually hurried life went from high gear to neutral. Dale couldn’t understand why I wanted to stay in that room all week when we were at a conference full of great minds in a city full of adventure. I couldn’t answer, really, except that the in quiet, my Lord called to me. Now that I’m home, the roar of all the things that need my attention is all around me. It scrambles my brain. I know I have to do some things and I want to do other things and I get distracted by the things someone else needs done and there are all these little lives that I should be attending to, and what in the world am I going to make for dinner?? It’s overwhelming. But the quiet remains in my soul. The Lord in His kindness filled me to overflowing and keeps calling me back. This morning I woke up to the roar, but in the midst of it I could hear Him calling me to order my day. If I don’t order the hours, they will run me down.  So I made a list.  A s

  I’m sitting in a hotel room on the 14th floor next to a wall entirely made up of windows. There is a jackhammer jumping on the street down below. Cars are zipping through the city streets and cruising down the highway eight lanes deep. The sky is full of wispy clouds slowly drifting across the sky.  This is where I’ll spend five silent minutes of focus and gratitude. It’s how I am learning to be still and know that He is God. It’s where I quiet my soul. It reminds me how small I am in a big world in a busy city, and how enormous my Father is as the world slowly turns and the shape of the clouds change moment by moment. Here is where I refuel after being immersed in crazy busy hustle for the past few months.  Quiet. Still. Open. Whole.  This is heaven on earth. I can hear the jackhammer loud and clear, which proves that I am still in the world, but here I am with Jesus and I am no longer of this world. I am a citizen of heaven. “Cease striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted

  Here is the evidence of my harvest this week. 4 tiny strawberries, 1 little cucumber, and 1 green bean. I couldn’t be happier! Unless, of course I had a bushel of green beans, and maybe if my strawberries were bigger and sweeter. I mean, I’m not complaining because I didn’t expect anything to grow since my yard gets pretty limited sun exposure. This summer has had me scrambling every single day, which makes me think that next year I might not invest so much time and energy into planting and tending a garden. (2 gardens, really, but whatev.) Maybe I’ll just collect my summer harvest the old-fashioned way, from the Farmer’s Market. I have aspirations of lining my pantry shelves with jars of produce that I’ve canned at home, just like my grandma used to do. But I have a lot of life calling my name and vying for my attention. There’s no sense in fighting for my dreams when the only things are going with me to the next life are my people.  It’s become my most critical aim to get quiet wit

  When we moved to Platte City from Lompoc, California, I was breathless as we pulled into the driveway of our new house. The duplex we moved out of had a yard full of sand and only a few shrubs. Our new home had green grass everywhere and two gorgeous trees in the front yard and two gigantic blue spruce trees in our side yard. I couldn’t believe we had our very own trees. Only God knew how much I would treasure them. This year as the barren branches began to bud, this beauty remained the same. The leaves that never fell through the winter stayed put as everything around it came to new life with the spring. Last week I finally resigned myself to the reality that she had died and we needed to make arrangements for removal.  It wrenches my heart a little; I don’t like change. But at the same time, I have been dreaming about planting an apple tree. Once the removal is complete, I will have the space to begin something new. It reminds me to hold on loosely to all the things in my life that

  For the past few months I’ve been waking up in the night with a tickle in my throat. Usually by the time I am fully awake, I’ve been coughing hard enough to cause tears to trickle down my cheeks. It’s terrible. I’m not sure what is causing it, but I have desperately sought some sort of relief.  At the National Worship Leaders Conference in Nashville last week, I learned some valuable lessons in vocal health. With that I discovered this throat spray. It provides moisture and dissolves mucous on the vocal cords. I’ve been keeping it by my bed to use during my midnight coughing episodes. It works like magic to settle down whatever is causing the tickle. I’m so thankful for these little gifts! “Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.” ‭‭James‬ ‭1:17‬ ‭NASB1995‬‬ https://www.bible.com/100/jas.1.17.nasb1995

  This is my happy place. When things get overwhelming for one of the littles in my family, I take them to a quiet corner and read them a book. It carries us both out of whatever is happening into the world of Frog and Toad, or Little Bear, or Grandad and his boy.  It took me a long time to cross the chasm from reading because I had to, to reading because it soothed my soul. I think it was because I wasn’t good at it and people kept shoving reading assignments into my hands. When I got out of college, I abandoned reading indefinitely. But when I found the joy of it by the gentle nudges of the Holy Spirit, I discovered a whole new dimension of this life. This summer God has gifted me the great honor of teaching my Sunday school class, in order to give our great leaders a soul rest. Because of the nature of the summer study, I have the opportunity to read one of my most treasured books to the girls I have grown to love so dearly.  If you would like to join us, even for one week as a gues

Every time I open the trash can my dog’s eyes light up. I usually give him some of our leftovers, but then I have to guard the trash can. Once he’s had a taste of the good stuff, he’s insatiable. He doesn’t know it would be bad for him to eat it all. He doesn’t understand how it could effect his digestive system, or his heart, or what a choking hazard is. He just knows the other half of what he got went into the trash can. If we aren’t watching, he will do everything in his power to open the lid and devour it’s contents. Even a newspaper is appetizing to him with a little drizzle of gravy on it. He can’t be trusted to keep himself safe, so we must be in guard. We want him to live a long, rich life with us, but every time he gets into the trash, he puts that dream at risk. Sin has a filthy connotation, but it’s allure is silky and powerful. It’s noxious. It will scramble your senses with pleasure and turn you into a dog with its face in the trash and a total disregard for the consequenc

One year at church camp, each cabin huddled up. We took turns standing in the center of the huddle, while everyone else said something encouraging to that person. I loved every minute of it.  I am a builder. Words are my love language. I love to build people up, and be built up, so to spend 30 minutes engaging on both the giving and receiving ends, as well as observing others was nourishing for me. It was one of my favorite camp memories. During my turn in the middle one girl said, “I wish I could put you in my pocket and take you back to school with me so I could say, ‘I have a Becca and you don’t!’” That was 30 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.  When Moses showed me the post-it note he had received, I was over the moon. His Sunday school class did a similar activity, but they wrote the encouragement down instead of saying it out loud. My kids talked about it for days. It was a precious offering from one kid to another. I stuck the note on my fridge to remind me to s

Our church pulled out all the stops for VBS. They always do, but this year was like a grand re-entry after a year of Covid restrictions. My kids were so excited they could hardly sleep. When I snapped this photo, I had just broken the news to the boys that it was over. Their medals shined a little less at the prospect of waiting a whole year for it to happen again. I was blown away by how many people showed up every single night to help. There were over 100 volunteers that showed up night after night. Each time I walked in to pick up kids, I felt a little regretful that I couldn’t volunteer this year. In the helping, there is more that takes place. Community is built. Roots go deeper. Connections happen. People that don’t know anyone on Monday have a place to belong by Thursday. It’s the part I always forget about. When the people of God make sacrifices for the kingdom by showing up, He rewards them abundantly. Hearts are secured. Lives are transformed. Relationships are established. I

  I had my first hand-held video game when I was in grade school. It had two buttons, L and R, that were used to dodge cars and debris in the road. I was insanely jealous when my brother was given a watch that he could play Pac-Man on. I love video games. I love them too much. When Dale and I were first married I used to sit at the computer and play Burger Shop for hours and hours. As a young mom I spent all my free moments playing Solitaire on the desktop. In my darkest depression I played Diner Dash while the days and weeks passed unnoticed. I can remember feeling the shame of wasting so much time staring at a screen. My hand would cramp up from holding the mouse, and instead of taking that as a cue to stop, I’d shake my hand out and keep clicking away. My vices, while they may seem harmless, entrap me nonetheless. Sugar and video games work like quicksand. I dip my toes in and before I know it I’m sick to my stomach and I can’t move my hand. Pornography is an easy dodge. Overindulge

  After I graduated high school, I spent the summer in Chicago working with a ministry that served the inner city. It was my first long-term experience away from home, and it was like my eyes were open for the first time. I saw beauty everywhere I looked.  Our dorms were in a quiet neighborhood away from the hustle of the city, so we did a lot of driving. I remember longing to pull the van over so I could run through the fields of wildflowers. I grew up un Kansas, the sunflower state, and had never wanted to run through a field before. Somehow when I was on my own, the tiny faces of the flowers in the most unsuspecting places caught my attention. God was calling my name. Yesterday I spent part of the afternoon pulling weeds at the farm where I have a small garden. I’m not good at gardening yet. I’m still learning how to decipher weeds from seedlings. I had to look outside the perimeter of my garden for comparison. That was when I noticed the wildflowers blooming. As I walked through th

 It’s a small thing to plant seeds and see them springing up out of the ground, but it brings me an exorbitant amount of joy. It’s crazy to me that at middle-age I am still learning such elementary skills as gardening. Just like when I bought six packages of green bean seeds, I didn’t realize that there are different stalks and bushes, and they grow different kinds of beans. I’m watching these little sprouts to see if they will need to be staked or caged. I have no idea what they will do as they reach for the sky. I can only hope that they will produce a harvest that is as wonderful as seeing these tiny sprouts come out of the ground. Whether they do or don’t I am thankful in the waiting. “They sowed fields and planted vineyards that yielded a fruitful harvest; he blessed them, and their numbers greatly increased, and he did not let their herds diminish.” ‭‭Psalms‬ ‭107:37-38‬ ‭NIV‬‬ https://www.bible.com/111/psa.107.37-38.niv

  This may come as a shock to some people, but I’m extremely maternal. The impulse to nurture shows up in the weirdest ways. I sweet-talk my sourdough. I pray over my plants and tell them they are beautiful. I have been doting on my little garden every chance I get. It’s brings me an unreasonable amount of happiness to go out in the cool of the day and watch the sprinkler sway, dousing each little plant with refreshment.  With that in mind, you can see how it would pain me to pluck these beautiful buds off as they are beginning their formation. These are my strawberry plants. They need to spend their energy building a strong root system, rather than blooming and growing strawberries, at least not this year. It’s for their own good, but it still hurts me a little when they are trying so hard. Don’t worry, little darlings... Next year you will bring a bountiful harvest the likes of which you cannot even begin to imagine! “...every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear

 I used to live for the fall, and only the fall. Winter is bearable before Christmas, but after it has passed I would set my eyes on September in an exasperating waiting game. When I moved these lovelies to the front yard where I could watch them do their magic, I had something to look forward to in the spring. The first signs of color after the long winter promised brighter days ahead.  Every year I learn a little more about how to help them thrive. This year I was diligent about dead-heading: the process of removing the wilted flowers to protect new buds and vibrant blooms. As I picked through them every couple of days, I was surprised to find that some of the wilted petals were clinging to new growth and killing it. The poor things wouldn’t have stood a chance without me keeping a close eye to remove the dead things. There are dead things in me that I leave lying around because they don’t seem like they matter until the seemingly insignificant things choke out new life and destroy n

  Followers of Jesus, be kind and compassionate. Walk in love. #offwiththeold #onwiththenew #Ephesians

There’s a new sheriff in town and things at my house look a little different. These two took to cowboyin’ like fish to water. They spend their days running and shooting and talking about what real cowboys do. It’s remarkable how such a little shift in perspective can give you a real sense of purpose. We spent the past few weeks loading dirt, unloading dirt, digging in the dirt, planting in the dirt, and basically living the homesteaders dream without an actual homestead. I got up early to get a jumpstart on the dirt today, and then spent the day hanging out with my crew before an appointment.  When I got to my car, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and laughed out loud. Not only did I have dirt under my nails and in my cuticles, there was a trail of dirt running down my face. The nurse must have thought I was really falling apart. I promise you I washed my hands multiple times before I left, but when your life is dirt, it shows up everywhere.  For the time being, me and these

 This is Jasper’s posture toward me 75% of every waking hour. He usually follows me around hoping to catch my attention, but when I am sitting down he is relentless. I try to read his eyes, I really do. And that’s probably why he comes to me, because sometimes I know what he needs. But most of the time I get irritated because he looks so eager to communicate with me and there is a language barrier.  Honestly... if I can’t fix it, please stop staring at me. Stop quietly pleading with that high pitched whine. It’s unbearable. My job is to fix things. Problems. Attitudes. Misunderstandings. Broken things. When I can’t fix it or it feels too big for me, it irritates me. Here is a spotlight on my frailty. I am not ok with broken things staying broken. They haunt me when my day turns to quiet. The bathtub. The bathroom faucet. The shower gaps. The kitchen faucet. The peeling caulk. The green stuff on the side of the house. A few dozen other things that raise my blood pressure.  Jasper, once

 I can remember being 5 years old when I had a dream that no one wanted me, so I walked around my neighborhood looking for a place to live. It wasn’t that I wasn’t wanted in my home; I was well-loved and cared for. It was something inside me, a darkness, that whispered the lies that held me hostage for decades. I wasn’t enough. I would never be enough. I could never do enough to make myself someone that mattered. I didn’t realize that God had this incredible plan for me all those years ago. He was shaping me and guiding my steps and preparing me for all of this. And now here I am, living the dream He planted in my heart, not because I did something to make it happen, but because He loves so beautifully. Because His kindness is boundless. His goodness is endless. His love is so deep and so wide that words cannot begin to describe it. Because He is good, my life is full of meaning and purpose and beauty. We used to sing this song in Sunday night church years ago that articulates my encou

  It didn’t matter what I did to try to stop this day from coming. It was determined to arrive and rob me of another little bird from under my wings. My sweet Deisha turned 13 today. It was bittersweet. She’s had intellect beyond her years since she was little, but she was also sad to say goodbye to her tween years.  She is a bright light with boundless energy and imagination. Daily she sits with her notebook, scribbling out storylines in a world she has created with rich characters that have become like family to her. Sometimes people tell me we did a good job and that’s why our kids are amazing. As much as I would love to take the credit, I can only thank God that He chose us to raise them. Children are born people. They are becoming the people they will be. In His mercy, God grants us the privilege of holding onto them for a little while. I’m really grateful today that I get to be Deisha’s mom on her 13th birthday.  “Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, The fruit of the womb is

  I’m still floating on the wake of our anniversary party. I keep going back to the pictures and videos and pouring over them with pure indulgence. I can’t get enough. My heart is so full I feel like I could burst. And then I come across these pictures, and I’m struck to the core.  Life in a big family came with it’s own set of rules. The oldest kid ran things, and everyone else did what they had to do to survive. My parents were faithful and diligent in tending to our needs, but they were busy bringing home the bacon and keeping the house in order. When we were left to our own devices, there was tyranny. I never dreamed we would like each other. Not like this.  This photo is the evidence of God’s faithfulness. The people in this photo are more dear to me than I could ever fully articulate. They get my jokes. They know my harmonies. We share a long history and the same bloodline. We belong together, even as adults living in different states. We are still one family with extensions and

Saturday marked one of the happiest surprises of my life. On the weekend before our 25th wedding anniversary, my people got together for a huge surprise celebration. I knew a few details about it, but I had no idea what all would be involved.  Family and friends came from near and far to wish us well and congratulate us for staying together for all these years. It was a huge deal for me because I really wanted a wedding remake, but I didn’t have the physical or creative energy to make it happen. That’s what made this even more wonderful. Everyone worked hard to make it an incredible day for us, including a beautiful cake table and etched stemware to commemorate the day.  All day long, all I could think about was how God remained faithful to keep us together through so many impossible things. Even when we had given up on each other, God never gave up on us. We made a covenant with Him, and He held up His end and both of ours too, during hard times. I am not so naive to think difficult t

Tis the season for all kinds of wonder and adventure! This guy was an early attender at our spring celebration. Last night we found a snake in one of our flower beds. I went to bed giddy with excitement at some of the shrubs I harvested from a mess in my backyard. They have waited patiently for years in a garden of snarled weeds and piles of yard waste. Their time has finally come for something greater, and I can’t wait to see what they become under my watchful eye and careful cultivation.  I feel a little like that, deep down in my guts.  “Now in a large house there are not only gold and silver vessels, but also vessels of wood and of earthenware, and some to honor and some to dishonor. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from these things, he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work.” ‭‭2 Timothy‬ ‭2:20-21‬ ‭NASB1995‬‬ https://www.bible.com/bible/100/2ti.2.20-21.nasb1995

  I woke up to a quiet house early this morning. I slipped out of bed, made myself a cup of tea, and settled in on the couch. After some quiet meditation, I picked up the book we are reading in my Sunday school class to start on my homework. I mean, it is due tomorrow!  I want to be transparent here, I am not crazy about the author. I like the subject we’re studying, but I have had a hard time getting wholly onboard with her writing style. Because I’m persnickety, I guess. But I love my class, and I want to have something to contribute in our discussion, so I read the chapter. Probably in the same vein of my dislike, my attention to my people has been average at best lately. I feel like I’m here, but I’m only partially tuned in. Sometimes I am waiting for the end of a long story someone is telling me, so I can go back to staring out the window. It’s exhaustion on multiple levels, I’m sure, but I feel guilty about it.  As I started reading, the Holy Spirit grabbed my attention with thes