On Infertility, Trivia and Toucans

There's something I haven't talked about on yet social media:  infertility. 

But I think I'd like to. This IS part of my life, even if I resent it. And I've seen so much beauty come from it-- in the way people have supported us and the Lord has taught us and we've grown as a couple-- many good things are coming from one terrible thing.

And the more I share this with others, the more I've been able to be a blessing to people. And people have been HUGE blessings to us in return. 

So, I guess now I'm off to try sharing in the social media world and connecting with other infertile social medialites. It's going to be an adventure. :) I hope you journey through it with me!

My husband's family has the gift of making the most incredibly beautiful children ever. Seriously though. Each and every one of my nieces and nephews are crazy adorable. It's unfair to the rest of society. So if you stick with us, and (fingers crossed!) all goes well in the end, then I promise something super cute is coming. :)

Here's a journal entry from this summer. It explains everything. 

July 11, 2015

I found a toucan on my nightstand yesterday. 

This was no ordinary toucan-- it was a toucan of hope, of promises, of God's goodness. It was a toucan of grace.

These silly birds are one of my favorite animals but I've noticed over the years that it's not often you'll find a stuffed animal depicting the jungle aviators. More often than not, people desire stuffed bears, cats, monkeys or dogs. Then, last Tuesday as we gathered with friends at a nearby bar for our weekly trivia game, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. A stuffed animal game machine and in the corner was a tiny, bright-yellow-beaked toucan! He was small and a little chubby and just so super cute.

My mind immediately began racing through visions of the happy child who would eventually win the bird. From there, my brain began producing images of our future children. And I'm sure, sweet journal, you know what happened next. What if I won that little toucan and was able to give it to our baby one day? It's small enough to fit in a diaper bag and we could take it anywhere. And I love the bright yellow beak-- it's my favorite color on my favorite animal. The next thing I knew, I was lost in daydreams of having babies with Dan and that little toy bird was the common factor in all of them. 

It became a vision of hope. If there were indeed stuffed animal toucans in the world and I happened across one here at a bar of all places, then surely there is hope for other things in our life as well. Like children.

I had to win that toucan.

I kept my eye on it all evening, counting down the trivia questions (Benjamin Franklin invented bifocals! Jupiter is the planet with the shortest day!) until it was at last time to leave. After saying our goodbyes, Dan and I went to his car to get coins and then sneaked back into the bar towards the machine. (Yes, sneaked, because we wanted to avoid the moment we told the hostess, Don't worry about seating us; we're just here to get a toucan.)

We dropped our fifty cents into the box, moved the claw into position and let it drop. A few seconds later it returned to its starting position, toucanless. I was crushed. This was supposed to be my symbol of hope. This was supposed to come easy-- God always promises hope and he was surely trying to use this bird to prove his promises are trustworthy.

My husband tried next to no avail and it was very clear to see that because of the way it was positioned, this toucan was not budging. No sense in wasting more quarters. We were only going to fail.

Crestfallen, we walked back to the car. My husband drove in silence as I held his hand and cried the whole way home, believing in the worst parts of my heart that our situation was definitely, in fact, hopeless. 

A few days later, my husband and I were hanging out in the living room and I needed to pick up something from our bedroom. It was a nothing moment-- nothing special and nothing expected. As soon as I walk into the bedroom, I discover a cheerful, stuffed toucan perched on my nightstand, a letter laying across his feet. Inside the note, Dan's messy handwriting greeted me with these words at its core:

"Let us run with endurance the race set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith."  I don't know what the Lord's purpose is for us in this season as we struggle through this, but just like Christ, we can set our eyes on what lies before us and endure the worst of it for God's glory and our good. 

Somehow, in a way that was unseen and completely out of my control, the toucan of hope found its way to us. It's not the exact same toucan I had envisioned-- this one was much larger and had a beak of orange instead of yellow. I didn't obtain this bird in the way I had originally planned-- he didn't come easy and I had to wait, creating much sorrow and, to my shame, much doubt in God. 

But somehow deep down I just knew the Lord was using that toucan to remind me of the hope there is in his promises and that's exactly what he did. He reminded me that hope is not my own design but his, and his ways are higher than my ways. He reminded me that while there may be struggles, his character is unchanging, his love steadfast and unfailing. And he reminded me that while things may look different in the end than I originally envisioned, he works all things for my good and his holy purposes.

I haven't moved the toucan off my nightstand just yet. I like spying him there when I first wake up and when I lie back down again at night. It helps me start and end my day with hope, with the promise that I don't have to rely on my own strength today but on God's.

And with that truth, I've already been given all the "toucans" I could ever possibly desire or need through the fulfilled work of my amazing and loving Savior. 

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I'm excited to journey through this season with you, sweet readers. THANK YOU to everyone who has and still are supporting us, loving us, and encouraging us. People truly have beautiful hearts. :) :)

Agape, 

Carrie

When Grandma Leaves

I've had to say goodbye to a lot of people recently. Two different women from my church group moved overseas within a week of each other. My husband and I visited with so many family members and friends over our holiday break in Ohio and then turned around and left them all. And lastly, most importantly, my grandmother passed away shortly after Christmas. My caring, silly, stubborn, cookie baking, chicken frying, hard working farmer's wife, kinder-than-anybody-you-know grandmother. She was truly an amazing woman for all her 95 years.

However, this will not be a post about how much I miss her. I do. Greatly. But she was unwell and in a nursing home for so long and I live so far away that each time I went to Ohio and visited her, I would say goodbye just in case. This went on for years (Grandma was quite the fighter!...) so my heart was more than well prepared to let her go.

This will not be a post about how much my grandmother touched my life. Please do not mistake that sentence for saying that she didn't touch my life at all. I am a different woman because of her and only in the most incredible ways. She shaped so much of who I am and who I still desire to be.

But this will instead be a post about what my grandmother left behind. What she did not take with her into her grave. How the pinnacle of all the lessons I learned from her actually occurred after she had passed. (And I promise--this will not be a depressing post!)

It was the day of her funeral.

It was raining coldly. (Of course, because it was a funeral winter in Ohio.)

The viewing was finished and the funeral was about to begin. Friends and extended family were gathered inside the church, while the immediately family waited outside in the lobby, ready to walk in following Grandma's casket. It was just Grandma's children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and all their spouses-- but there were So. Many. People! Grandma had four children, who then had ten grandchildren, who then had fifteen great-grandchildren (and more currently on the way!... NO, not from me...) Throw in the spouses of each of these and you have a group of over 40 people.

And all I could wonder was, Not a single person in this lobby would be standing here had it not been for my grandmother.

I'm one of those dreamers who really believes that just one person can change the world. Can you imagine the change that can be created by 40 people?

My grandma left behind amazing recipes, beautiful handcrafted quilts, and a 30-acre farm that is home to countless memories. But she will not be remembered for that like she will be remembered for the way she inspired, encouraged, loved, prayed for, and cared for the people around her. She had one of the kindest hearts that I've ever known and that's what will be her memory. Her legacy. Her impact and significance. While amazing and tasty-- a recipe will only go so far. While cozy and intricate-- a quilt can only do so much. Lasting change is made by people. To create enduring impressions, my grandmother invested in the people around her. She cherished her children and grandchildren. She adored her husband better than any girl on a chick flick can replicate. And she loved the Lord her God with all her heart, soul and mind.

And because of this, I am different. Her family is different. The friends and neighbors and loved ones in her life are different.

Therefore, by changing little bits of people's hearts, itty bitty pieces at a time, my grandmother has changed the world. And she will live on, first inside of me, and then inside of everyone who follows thereafter.

Here's to you, Grandma. And all that is different now because of your amazing spirit. I've been singing your favorite hymn over and over ever since your passing, and I love that for every day you've been gone, you've no less days to sing His praise. ❤ Love you.

The current message on the chalkboard in our kitchen. For my Grandma. ❤
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And I love you, too, sweet readers!
Agape,
CC


In case you are interested, here is the "unconventional" eulogy my sweet cousin and I wrote together and read at her funeral. 


Ruth lived a long life filled to the brim with love, hard work, and family. She was raised in east Dayton and graduated from Stivers High School. In 1942, she married Clarence (Perk) and through 61 years of marriage, they remained devoted, faithful, and adorably in love. They worked hard together building homes, maintaining farms, and raising four children while living in the Dayton area.

Five thousand hand planted trees and a cozy glider swing-- that's what greeted you when you went to visit Ruth and Perk at their farm. Walking into the kitchen revealed the unmistakable embrace of homemade care. There were always oatmeal cookies in Ruth's cookie jar and a container of her famous jam to be retrieved from the basement.

From winning square dancing titles with her husband all around the country, to beating all her relatives in Euchre, (her favorite superstition: if you were losing, just get up and walk around your chair), Ruth was full of life and joy. She also enjoyed making beautiful quilts, goofing around with her grandchildren, and hosting great family events, including the annual Easter egg hunt.

Faith was a prominent part of Ruth's life. Together, she and Perk were charter members of St. Luke Catholic Church. When you held her hands in church during the "Our Father," they would be so very cold, but she'd just smile and say, "Cold hands; warm heart." And with that simple sentence, she described herself perfectly,

Today, she is succeeded by her four children, ten grandchildren, and fifteen great-grandchildren. Ruth leaves behind a legacy of faith, love, just the right amount of stubbornness, and unmatched kindness. Ruth will be missed but never forgotten because she has certainly planted herself in our hearts forever. 

Confession of a Yankee Doodle Dandy

Early morning on July 4th, after dropping my car off on the roof of a parking garage to secure our prime firework viewing spot for the evening, my husband and I sat at a Starbucks table on a hazy, city street corner. As usual, he read and I wrote. I wanted to share with you my journal entry from that morning as it wasn't only our country's birthday but mine as well. Maybe my heart's ponderings will resonate with yours, too. :)

July 4, 2014

26 years old today. At what point do birthdays become dreaded things? When the promise of friends who want to celebrate and share good food and make great memories isn't enough to ward off the feeling that life is dripping, draining, rushing away. Is it now, when college cannot, (no, it just cannot!) be farther away than the time it took to live it? High school went by slowly, perfectly. I had just enough time to make best friends and lose them and make new ones again. I grew, I changed, I became who I am. At the end of it all, they handed me a Prom Court sash and graduation cap and sent me on my way. College drifted by calmly like leaves on a river while I sat on the bank and formed relationships that felt like family, experienced my first real heartbreak, and eventually fell in love with the man I now call my husband. College promised so many things for the future-- every painting it portrayed was beautiful-- and the river pulsed at just the right pace so that by the time it was done, we were ready to move on. We wanted to climb into our own canoes, paddles tossed aside so we could never go back, charging towards the infinite ocean waiting at the river's end. 

But it was no ocean. Greatly fooled we had been.

It was a waterfall, relentless, thrusting all in its path away at an unforgivable speed. Instantly, college is four years ago but only feels like one. Suddenly, I'm 26 but when people ask my age, I want to say 22 because I still feel like a giddy young girl lost in her engagement and the prospects of new life. 

So, is "my whole life still ahead of me"?

Are there still "things I'll understand when I'm older"?

And sweet goodness, please tell my my "biological time-clock" isn't really ticking away...

I watched a friend lose his life during college and ever since then I've been fine with the notion of getting older. It's a privilege. A gift. Grace. Every year when the Fourth of July comes, I'm fine watching my years go up and up and up. What bothers me is how quickly that holiday comes around each year. The mothers in my life tell me about how fast their babies grow and I think really it's just life  in general that moves so fast, the waterfall raging, propelling all of us out to sea.

A downpour. A burst.

A firework. (It is the Fourth of July, after all. Surely it's only appropriate to include a pyro reference.)

The usual responses you'll hear after a firework display: That was beautiful! That was a great show! I really love the ones that shimmer. My favorite had the sunbursts at the end. It was awesome, just awesome.

At the end of the show, have you ever heard someone comment, "Okay, that felt way long enough. It really should have ended ten minutes ago..."? I surely hope not! If you have, please punch that person directly in the face.

But I think for today, a firework show is the most fitting analogy for my life thus far. It's had really hard times. There's smoke everywhere. I watch things explode. I watch things be destroyed. And if I step too close to the commotion, it only worsens-- hot ash raining down, little fiery pieces of debris from something that once promised to be beautiful.

Yet that promise was kept. Through the blaze and haze of smoke, there was a glorious, scintillating light, cascading over the sky, glittering off the city buildings nearby. I dare not look away, captivated and enchanted, my heart in a trance against the kaleidoscope above, each flash leaving and then coming so swiftly again. Awe-striking. Magnificent. And even though it's covered in fire and carnage, once it's done, all I want is more. It would never, could never, move too slowly, this prismatic concoction of death and vibrancy, which blinds my eyes and crushes my ears and leaves me in a daze. This birthday that came too quickly, this year that flew too fast, this life of bursts of florid light littered in wreckage. Rich, piercing goodness amid deep, abiding sorrow. Lovely, perfect moments among the taxing burdens we bear. Impenetrable, amazing grace flowing out of the garden that fell.

This is a life that captivates me, that will always move too fast. But as long as I have eyes to see, may I be thankful to sit on top of this parking garage and enjoy the show at all. 

Happy summer, sweet readers! Enjoy the show before you. :)

Agape,

CC

Thanks for celebrating the 4th and my birthday with us, sweet friends!!
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An Engagement Story

❤❤ This past weekend, I had the extreme pleasure of visiting one of my best friends from college, Riley, in Washington D.C. where she currently lives... and being there for her engagement! It was so marvelous! Two other friends from college were also there, and when our soon-to-be engaged friend went to the airport believing she was picking up her boyfriend, she met us instead. Oh, her face was priceless! She began hugging us, half smiling, almost crying, all while shouting "It is happening today, isn't it?! It is, it is!"

Although the actual moment of getting engaged was not a surprise, the day of it was indeed and we spent the rest of the afternoon preparing. Going to lunch (on her boyfriend! Thanks, Aaron!) at the place where they had their first date, getting our nails done, picking out a new outfit, and just enjoying one another and showing our friend how loved she is.

I had the joy of sneaking up on the couple during the actual proposal (ok, I tried to be sneaky but there was just nowhere to hide. I stayed far away at least...). I feel so honored to have been able to watch this moment, let alone capture it on film, and I wanted to share the product with you.

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I think the best part of the whole experience was that while watching the proposal, all the emotions I felt during my own engagement came flooding back. Mostly the deep anticipation for the wedding to come and the overwhelming feeling of being unconditionally loved. And my dear friend Riley got to experience these emotions all day long while we prepared together.

I just kept thinking about what a beautiful picture this is of Christ and his Bride. And how the entirety of our lives will be spent in deep anticipation, awaiting the day we meet our Savior face to face. And through the waiting and yearning and longing, we can rest knowing that we are overwhelmingly, unconditionally loved.

Oh, how loved we are indeed!

Just as we did with Riley that afternoon, let us spend the rest of our days preparing, for we never know when the King will emerge from the shadows and calls us back home. ❤❤

Agape,
CC

Summoning the Spring

A wintertime journal entry to start off your spring. :)

February 16, 2014

Do you ever have a moment that you know in your mind you are sharing with a million people but deep in your heart, you feel it was really meant for you alone? A firework bursting can be seen by thousands but what if you, in  that moment, were the only one who needed to?

That's how I feel about the recent snow.

It had been fifteen years since they've seen a similar weather pattern hit the Carolinas (so the newsman said...) and this time it was spreading from Georgia all the way north past New York. We sat at home on the first of three essential-staff-only snow days, watching the TV as one by one all the southern state governors declared a state of emergency. The flakes floating down outside were big, fat and beautiful, while the reporters on the screen were loud, sharp and terrified. We were told to prepare for power outages, to ration our food, get all of our blankets and please, dear God if anything, don't go out on the roads.

Like good little citizens, we obeyed, and spent most of those three days watching movies, reading books, working on house renovations, and admiring the snow outside as it piled higher and higher. By evening on day two, we still had not seen a single snowplow push down our street, but why should we when tomorrow's snow day was eagerly announced at ten o'clock in the morning and the news unceasingly displayed the whited-out highways that couldn't seem to be cleared?

The National Guard they brought in had better things to attend to at the moment than our little neighborhood.

Little do they understand, I believe this all may have been for me.

Why? Because the Lord wanted to show me how quickly he can melt an ice-cold heart back to flesh.

Friday morning we woke up to a sunny, snowy wonderland, our two best friends with a four wheel drive jeep and not well heated home sleeping upstairs in our loft, also being awakened by a bright golden sun. We chatted over breakfast near a window, squinting at the rays demanding entrance through the blinds. Dan and I lamented over it being Valentine's day and how we would most likely be stuck inside again, but smiled when we found we were able to take the car out for a mid-day coffee run. And by the time evening came, a lovely date and our favorite restaurant calling our names, we drove down shining, wet, and absolutely clear roads, a smirking sunset fading in the distance. Saturday was again gloriously golden, and soon the only remnants of our state-of-emergency were the giant snow piles and a few snowman bottoms. It took over a week to prepare for yet only two days to destroy. Completely. The sun feeling betrayed by the way we doubted his rays.

Suddenly, the Carolinas were back, a fifteen year spell broken and erased so quickly it's hard to remember it ever happened at all. But we do remember the sun, warm and bold, prepared to deliver us from our outages and rations, and the great wave of hope that emerged when we saw the first sign of light.

My God works in wonderful, mysterious ways. My God can cover half of a country in a blanket of white and lift it off again faster than any snowplow, salt truck, and neighbor boy with a big shovel combined.

My God clears damages and restores to perfection. With immediacy. Who am I then to believe he cannot do the same with my heart? Who am I to say the sun is not bright enough to cast away all the demons I've kept hidden within? No matter how trapped I feel under the deep, heavy snow, no matter how icy the top layer becomes, he can break through. He will break through.

Because he is the redeemer and healer. And he restores my soul.

And when I'm walking once again down the shining, clear street, there will be no stains left on me from the mess I was just in. No wet clothes to pull down on my skin, no black slush to fling up from my feet, no trace at all of the state-of-emergency for my heart.

But the on beautiful thing I'll be able to recall is the warm, glorious light that so cleansed me of it all.


Happy Spring!
Agape, 
CC

Here's some tulip pictures I took a little while ago. :)

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A Penny for Your Thoughts

When I was in high school, I started collecting pennies. These were not pennies I bought or traded for, they were pennies I found. On the ground. Heads up, tails up, it didn't matter and I didn't discriminate against the little copper coins. I just scooped them up... ignoring the OCD in me screaming about germs... and said a prayer over the penny for my future husband.

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Did I know him when I was seventeen and began collecting my prayer pennies? Of course not. But I prayed anyway over every little penny I found. All throughout the remainder of my high school days and into the college ones, through first jobs and internships and mission trips and moving into my first house with some girlfriends-- you'd be amazed at how many pennies you'll find if you keep an eye out.

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I even spread this habit on to some of my college friends, and soon we began bartering over who found the penny first and would get to keep it. We'd sneakily drop pennies around each other's cars and in each other's bedrooms when someone needed a little cheering up. One housemate even left a penny with a friend in Rome she met over a spring break trip who then bestowed the penny to me when I visited the following summer.

A few fellow penny-praying ladies. :)
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But it is amazing how the Lord can use something so little, something that literally costs one cent to do so many incredible things. 

When I first began praying over the pennies, I desperately prayed that my husband would believe in Jesus as God and Savior like I did. I knew this conviction of mine was too strong and took over too much of my life to ever marry someone who didn't share the same beliefs, so I prayed and prayed for this future husband of mine to meet the Lord... until sophomore year of college when I suddenly realized that I wasn't praying that anymore. Instead I was praying that my husband would grow in Christ and continue to strengthen his faith. And a few months into dating, Dan told me that he wasn't really a Christian growing up... but became one our sophomore year of college. 

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A year before on Halloween, I was bombarded with pennies all day long. I found them next to the laundry machine and in the street and in front of my dorm room. Thirty pennies total in just one day. I told this to Dan when we were married and he knew exactly which Halloween I was speaking of. He said it was a night he needed prayer desperately, all the while having no idea that across campus, a girl he'd never seen was covering him with prayer throughout the entire day.

I prayed a lot that my husband would be a good dancer, or would at least be willing to attempt for me. I just adore dancing, especially swing dancing. And where were my husband and I when we first hung out together? Surrounded by friends at a swing dance uptown. And what were we doing when he asked me to marry him? Swing dancing. And what does he still interrupt my dish-washing to do with him in the middle of the kitchen? You guessed it... :)

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But the coolest prayer penny story of all is our second date. We were at a conference in Indianapolis and took one night to ourselves to grab Starbucks and explore the city. It was Christmastime, and in the middle of downtown was a soaring statue illuminated with lights to resemble a Christmas tree. In true Dan and Carrie fashion... We decided to climb it. We stopped to talked when we reached the highest possible climbing point, and looking at the ground I spotted a penny. And then another. And then another and another and another. Then the realization hit me: with the water missing for the winter, we unknowingly climbed into the fountain.

We. Were. Surrounded. By pennies. It was as if the ground below were made of them, a copper floor shimmering up at two smitten college seniors, the girl laughing at the irony of it all.

I slowly began to fall in love with pennies. They became a symbol of commitment, a metaphor for growing old with someone and knowing them inside and out. Pennies meant love. And every time I found one, I felt love-- from this unknown future man and from my great and ever-present God. On my wedding day, I wore a handmade anklet composed of four pennies: one old, one new, one I borrowed (and haven't given back yet...) and one painted blue. On our first anniversary, my husband bought me this necklace with scripture on the front made from a penny. I adore pennies now. They mean more than just prayers. Then remind me of something much, much greater. 

Something Old, Something New...
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I have a father who is just as quirky as I am, and when I was a little girl, he would throw pennies out the car window. (I know, so not environmentally friendly, I know, I know). We'd go shopping, he'd sort through the spare change, wait until we were driving fast, then chuck it out into the breeze. He said one day an archaeologist would find them and imagine crazy things about the culture that made tiny copper pictures of an old man.

The little girl in me LOVED this. I loved thinking about those pennies being dug up. So imagine in high school when suddenly I was the one collecting the thrown-out pennies. Without even realizing it, my father was leading me to prepare for my future marriage, just as my Heavenly Father was preparing me for it. And when my father walked me down the aisle and passed me on to Dan, when my loving, caring, compassionate, amazing father let go of my hands and put them in his, he undoubtedly had a huge part in crafting me for that moment,  in raising me as a future wife and preparing me to be let go of. He was simply mirroring my God in Heaven and the work he had done in both Dan and I for marriage. 

He would NOT stop looking at me!... I loved it :)
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On the night of our rehearsal dinner, I placed the jar of pennies in my fiance's grasp, telling him, "These are all the ways I took care of you before you even knew me." I told him of all the prayers I said for him and all the ways these little copper coins have slowly made me fall more in love with him over the years. That jar currently sits on the dresser in our bedroom, and my husband tells me constantly of how grateful and loved he feels by the priceless gift.

Dan would never forgive me if I posted wedding pictures
without sharing this one. He's pretty proud of it, haha!
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But I think the gift was really mine, because while I pursued my husband in prayer throughout the years, I was reminded of a good and loving God who is always pursuing me. How he sent his only Son to come on my behalf, who now spends his days interceding for me, abiding with me, and praying for me. He will never leave me or forsake me. It is the marriage no divorce can break, no separation can sever.

And unlike my husband who is beautiful yet human, my God's love will never fail me. 

Ever.

And he is waiting for the day to take me by the hand and whisper, These are all the ways I took care of you before you even knew me.

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This blog is just my hobby-- nothing I'm trying to promote or turn into a business-- so I'd normally never ask you to share posts. But this tradition is so near and dear to my heart, if you know any single girl who may enjoy it, please share! I would LOVE for other women to get the same joy from it as I did! :)

Happy late Valentine's Day, sweet readers. Remember the one who's great love will never fail us.  :)

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Agape,
CC

PS-- Check out my AMAZING wedding photographer, La Vita Photo! She was so much fun to work with and her pictures are stunning!! Thanks, Victoria :)

Going Back for the Glass Diamond

HAPPY NEW YEAR, FRIENDS!! I hope you've enjoyed  a lovely holiday season with friends and family... and that you drank lots of those white peppermint mochas (ugh-- seriously so delish!)

Here's another gospel game situation for you:

My hub-hub and I love walking around the mall at Christmastime to look at the displays and people watch and see all the screaming kids forced to sit on Santa's lap. My husband really wanted a watch for Christmas this year, and before we found one on Fossil's website for 70% off the regular price (woot woot clearance!) we hunted around the jewelry section at department stores... which I LOVE doing. Everything is so sparkly... And shiny... And colorful... It's like a carnival for my eyes...

Leaving the mall to go to our dinner destination, I glanced down at the cheap, plastic, cost-three-dollars-at-most jeweled ring on my finger and found that the giant gem in the middle had fallen out. What a strange feeling I encountered! After spending so much time admiring all this 'real' jewelry, gawking at the extreme price tags, swooning over the rich colors, and being captivated by the brilliant sparkle-- I felt so silly feeling sad about my missing fake gem... But I was! I was so disheartened! I loved that little ring and as inexpensive as it was, it brought me so much joy. It was also colorful, and sparkly, and although you'd never find it behind the sealed glass case of a department store, it was mine. It belonged to me. And it was my responsibility to care for it which I had apparently failed.

I showed the ring to my husband, which now resembled a skeleton more than fine jewelry, and he offered to take time to retrace our footsteps. "I don't know," I told him, "It could be anywhere and I don't want to miss our reservations. We're never going to find it. It's not worth it."

"It's absolutely worth it if it makes you this sad," was his reply, so off we went, heads down, scanning the floor, in desperate search for the most invaluable diamond at the mall. We dodged the hurried shoppers, flew passed Santa and his screaming visitors, slowly making our way right back the department store jewelry section. Splitting up, we walked around each counter-- and there, laying face up on the floor in front of the most colorful jewelry (the ones I had admired most) was my little glass gem, still intact but now covered in dust and debris. 

It was found.

The Lord used that moment to speak so loudly to me about beauty and redemption. You don't have to lay down next to the 'more brilliant' diamonds, He whispered. Don't waste your time wishing you were one of them. One day, every precious stone will fall from the prongs and lay among the dust. Every pearl and piece of gold will fall apart and cease. All my creation is slowly eroding-- I designed it that way. Because I will come again to make everything new. To make everything redeemed. To make everything shine.

And until that day comes, you can run as far as you'd like. You can slip yourself from my prongs and hide in corners on the floor, you can call yourself 'invaluable' and 'unworthy' and every other lie the world wants you to believe. It won't be true. Because I'll come looking for you, desperately searching for my little glass gem, each and every time. And I will find you. You are mine. You belong to me and I will protect you. You'll never get far enough to be outside of my care. To me you are the most colorful, you have the most sparkle, you are as priceless as can be. 

You are my treasure. And the price tag underneath you is not labeled with numbers, but labeled with a man's name, written above his cross. The price paid for you is the greatest. And never again will I let you be lost.

Readers, we are beautiful, loved, pursued, redeemed. Let your heart yearn after this more than anything during the holidays. :)

Agape,

CC

“What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’” Luke 15:4-6

Christmas Forgiveness

Christmas season should be a time filled with long reflection, considering all the workings of our coming Savior and the great humility with which he entered the world. And if we still resided in Eden, I’m sure this would be the case for most of us. But instead we live in a world where December is unbelievably busy—there are parties to prepare for, family to visit, presents to buy, and (of course) white peppermint mochas to drink (I will find a way to mention this in every Christmas post…).

In honor of keeping this blog real and vulnerable (because I’m anything but close to perfect), let me confess to you that when it comes to communing with the Lord, I pretty much stunk at it this holiday. I don’t really even know what occupied my time instead, but it found itself occupied and God’s Word and prayer were not part of the equation. But this is not an accusatory blog post against myself. It is one of grace. And so I give you:  yesterday’s journal entry… which was written at a coffee shop after deciding to purchase a plain latte instead of a white peppermint mocha (miiiiiiistake…)

December 27^th,

Almost the entire month of December and no journal entry. How many advent seasons do I have to waste? Probably not many… at least not in the grand scheme of things. I feel so foolish, so childish for allowing my heart to get sucked away by such worldly things during this month: greed, appearances, acceptance from others, selfishness, control and perfection. What could I have learned from Christ’s sweet humility? The King of Kings being born in a barn, in a place where I find it necessary to wear boots that I can wash and yet he wore swaddling clothes. December 27^th is the date and my open Bible finally finds its way to my lap. I feel like true God-fearing woman would have cherished this lovely season, would have covered every inch of her journal with prayers and petitions and thanksgiving and here I am, having an affair with worldly things.

But I guess, a true God-fearing woman knows that there is no journal entry big enough, no prayer long enough, no Bible read enough to earn favor with God. And maybe that’s what I was supposed to learn this holiday season. That Decembers aren’t given to me for my own benefit directly, but for God’s glory. For him to be known and adored… because I am already infinitely known and adored by him. No amount of quiet times will add to it. And that he came to that manger as a child not to give Decembers a new meaning, but to give all of life as we know it a new meaning.

He’s already done all that needs to be done. It is finished. My life is won.

So Decembers spent abiding won’t give brownie points but grace. Journals filled with prayers won’t raise my status—in fact, it should lower it. Lord, I pray the more I commune with you, the more aware I’ll become of all that you’ve already completed. Forgive me, Father, for my negligence and lack of faith and my vast making of idols. And thank you—oh, thank you!—that my position before you has not changed as a result. Thank you that I am still cloaked in the righteousness of Christ, and although I’ll surely struggle for the rest of my life to take it off and put on things that I myself have done, remind me that the only gift I need this season is one I cannot buy. That you loved the world so much, you gave us your son’s life.

Keep bringing me back to the infant in the barn, the bleeding man in the garden, the dying Savior on the cross.

Merry (late) Christmas, sweet friends! You are covered in Christ's work and nothing will ever tear you from  God's strong hand. :)

Agape, 

CC

James 4:13-17

The sermon this morning was on James 4:13-17, which talks about our lives being short, fast, and completely out of our control. How many songs have been written about life moving too quickly? How many grandmas and grandpas have told you to 'Enjoy things while you can.' That's why I'm eating lots and lots of cookies before my metabolism slows down. . . :)

But if I'm being truthful with you, the brevity of life isn't new to me. In fact, I believe that I gathered a fairly firm grasp on it at a very young age. Don't know why-- there were no near-death experiences or tragic passings to produce this quality in me-- but I always knew. Life will go fast. I need to take advantage of it.

When I was in college, I bought a guitar. I love to write so much that I thought writing songs would be equally as enjoyable. Turns out playing guitar is vastly different from the piano I fiddled with in middle school. And I have to let my fingers get calloused? What? Gross. I gave myself one solid summer of learning chords and playing 'Lone Rider' until my fingers bled, then gave my guitar away. My reasoning was not that guitar was too difficult. It was that I just didn't enjoy it. And life for me was too short to be spent on things I only halfway enjoyed.  (Ain't nobody got time for dat!)

And at twenty-one, I began assessing my hobbies and deciding which were worth the investment of my sweet and precious time. Running? Yes, I adore running and will continue with that. Guitar? Nope. Piano? No, but I will keep one song memorized. Telelvision shows? I'll keep up with one show each season, maybe, but books? Yes! I will read every book I can get my hands on! Writing? Absolutely, maybe I'll start a blog... :)

Who does that at twenty-one?? Most of my friends in college still viewed their time as infinite, like they had thirty years left to take up guitar should their heart desire so. 

And to some extent, don't they? Am I the one who is acting oddly? Should I be less frugal with my time? My heart just gets so stirred up when I think about the brevity of my life-- it's probably the reason I'm so quick to make productivity an idol. But it's also forced me to enjoy the things I'm doing, to give thanks to God for these enjoyments, to find what will point me to Christ and cling to it. So in that regard, I'm so thankful the Lord showed me life's quickness while I'm still young enough that most of my days are ahead of me. 

Statistically, most of my days are still ahead of me. Readers, please don't let me become one of the young bloggers who writes like she knows everything. I don't. I absolutely don't. I write because I like to write, that's all. And there are so many older, wonderful, wise women in my life who I desperately want to learn from. And when it comes to the brevity of life, I could benefit from another lesson (or another fifty...) on using my time productively, on making my life missional, and on finishing well in the end. But when it comes to enjoyment-- on finding reasons to smile and finding the gospel and Christ in everything-- I feel the Lord has taught me this well. Not perfectly, but well. And I'm so so grateful for that!

So here's the video my pastor played at church. I saw this video floating around Facebook and purposefully avoided watching it because I knew my heart would just begin twitching with productive thoughts, angry at my twenty-five years that are gone. But it's good. And needed. And I hope you enjoy it. I hope you enjoy everything in your day today, because the Lord gave it to you. He decided it years and centuries and eternities ago, and there's nothing in your control to make it otherwise. If it's difficult, I'm sorry, but God is with you and it will go by quickly compared to eternity. If it's beautiful, praise Jesus, and savor it intently. 

The Time You Have In Jelly Beans

I love you all dearly!! I just drank a white peppermint mocha and I hope you are out there getting your first holiday drink of the season as well!! :) 

Agape,
CC

The Spoiler Alert

There is a television show that I recently became obsessed with (which is a rarity in itself) but I just loved it. The show was called "Capture" and the premise was essentially an extreme, glorified game of tag. Each day a hunt team was selected from the casts' twelve teams of two, and the remaining teams became 'prey'. The hunt team had to complete two hunts, capturing one team each time, and eliminations were conducted against the captured teams (or the unsuccessful hunt team!) Players could also earn the chance to sabotage other teams or gain supplies. On each hunt, if a team stood still for longer than three minutes, their location would be revealed to the hunt team for the remainder of the game. They lived in a small village inside the 3,000 acre outdoor arena where hunts were performed, sleeping in cold tents with minimal food at each meal. Tensions rose as alliances formed and failed; teams were outcasted, bullied, favorited, and helped, adding their own social elements to play out in the games. Each contestant proved great strength and endurance just by surviving the living conditions-- let alone the daily hunt. 

But I think my favorite part of the show was that through all the acting, all the people trying to look tough to become a threat, or weak so as not to be voted off, trying to play the social game and decide whether or not to hide the fact that they sabotaged another, through all the games within the grander game, you saw little pieces of each player being real. Really real. It came out when one of the supply stations contained a cell phone and the voices of mothers and best friends and boyfriends were heard for the first time in weeks, causing genuine tear to flow. It came out when teams realized they had been sabotaged and had to endure a new challenge amid the treacherous terrain to avoid capture. But mostly, it came out when teams were captured, when they lost the fight, when they knew they'd be facing elimination within a matter of hours. That is the place where the camera caught unbridled pride, deep pain, anger, sadness, defeat and remorse. About half of the time, people showed that their character was ugly. Mean. Selfish. 

But the other half of the time, you'd see deep within the beautiful depths of a humble heart. When the players took their defeat well, when they cried "Good catch, good job, great game!" through the pouring, defeated tears, it excused all the meanness and bitterness previously exhibited and proved reason to sympathize once again. Even more so is when a team handled winning well. Not becoming haughty and prideful, not mocking the fallen team but taking their victory in a humble, intentional stride. Claiming it, but calmly, as if nobody needed to know.

Now the most upsetting part about my Capture obsession came the night before I watched the season finale. We didn't see it live on TV and had planned to watch it online. I was looking up a fan-site that evening, preparing myself for the next night's show, carelessly forgetting that other fans may have already witnessed it. And thanks to the glories of the Internet, would begin talking about the results.

And without warning, I came across... A spoiler. The final results. The ending of the end. 

And I... Was so...

SAD!

Oh my goodness, was I ever sad! I mean look at the great number of words I just spent to just tell you about this little show-- I loved it! I told all my friends, I bugged my husband constantly with gossip about it. It was by far the most fun I had had with television in a long, long time.

And that was all ruined. Ruined! I did not just invest hours of my life to have the adrenaline pulled away in the final stage. The excitement smashed. The surprises stolen. To me, this was one of the greatest battles I had witnessed-- why, why would somebody ruin the ending??

And then, a thought hit:

 "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world." John 16:33

My ending on this earth has already been ruined as well. The final lap has been run. The credits are rolling. The spoiler alerts taken down and the results shouted over the mountain tops. Jesus has won! He is King, he is victorious, he will forever be on the throne! For all the trials I will face in this life-- Christ has won. For all the tears I will cry, alliances that will break, sabotages that will come my way-- Christ has survived. For all times I will get captured by the delights of this world-- Jesus will set me free. Through the first siren signaling the start of the first hunt, to the final elimination when I am asked to leave forever-- Jesus will be there. As Savior. As Healer.

As Victor.

And every eye will once and for all witness the perfection of a win handled well. Of a champion who boasts not in pride but in his glory and his holiness. It will draw people to him like a moth to the flame, as he promises that every jail and iron bar will be torn down forever, that we'll never have to worry again about the dangers chasing us, and that we will at last be home. 

With an ending as such, wouldn't you give anything just to play the game? Do you hear the siren signal? Let's start the hunt, sweet friend. Let's sleep outside in the cold, eat our meager food, build alliances to sharpen one another, and run- run!- because we do know the ending. Because nothing is uncertain. Because it's impossible to fail.

"Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God, and everyone who loves the Father loves whoever has been born of him. By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God and obey his commandments. For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome. For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?" 1 John 5:1-5

Annnnd in case you're interested:  Footage Montage!

I love my readers so much. Thank you for all your encouragement lately. It means more than you know!

Agape, 

CC